mdni. whiny top vi. fem bottom reader. tribbing. vaginal sex. short drabble. based off this video.
vi masterlist
thinking about vi who has a clit that’s noticeably larger than the average size. it would be such a lewd sight; a rosy-pink nub that sticks out from between her pussy lips, that jumps and twitches at even the slightest touch, constantly sensitive and exposed because it’s too big to fit behind the protective skin of her labia.
she would jerk it off between her index finger and thumb and the pleasure would almost feel like too much. she would potentially buy a fleshlight too and just grind against it at first, pretending it’s a real pussy, before ultimately deciding to stuff her clit inside the toy. it would feel heavenly, a sensation she’s never felt before, something that she didn’t think was possible for her to experience as a woman.
so when the two of you began dating, she took every opportunity possible to her fuck clit inside your pussy.
earlier, you were bent over in front of her, on your hands and knees, while vi fucked her clit inside your small hole with slow strokes. then you were kneeling in front of her while she rubbed her clit against your tongue, suckling on the little nub as if it were a piece of candy.
right now, though, vi is pinning your legs back to your shoulders, your cunt on full display while she rocks her hips against yours. she’s trying to force her clit as deep inside you as she can, needing to feel as much of you as possible. you assume you feel tighter in this position because vi is moaning louder than before, her blue eyes are entirely unfocused—and you can hear the obscene squelching noises your pussy is making when it sucks on her clit like a kiss.
vi is a whiny mess on top of you, spreading her pussy lips wide with her one hand so the entirety of her clit can slip in and out. your entrance is fluttering around her spongy, swollen clit and you’re opening yourself wider with your palms, needing more of her—as much as you can get, and then some. just feeling her inside you, knowing how intimate this is, has been enough to make you come your brains out in the past.
”mmffuck—you’re gripping me so tight, baby.” her hips are smacking against the back of your thighs with animalistic fervor.
the sight of you is completely obscene, it’s debauched. your breasts are bouncing with the strength of her thrusts, your chest is heaving from how severely you’re panting. your legs are spread wide like an easy whore, confidently in a state of your own salacious nakedness. your cute pussy is soaked in a combination of both your juices.
vi’s eyes are glazed over, her pink tongue is hanging out dumbly—consumed by the mindless lust and intense sensations radiating from her aching clit. she’s never felt so much pleasure before you, never known the sheer ecstasy of having the most sensitive and intimate part of herself engulfed in slick, rippling heat—squeezed and massaged from all sides. it’s like nothing she's ever experienced before and she’s easily addicted to your pussy.
”your pussy is so wet—unghh!”
god, she’s needed this.
the air is musky and tangy with sex; it’s vi’s favorite scent next to your own natural pheromones. her muscular frame is casting a shadow over your own and it makes you feel safe and secure. and the sounds of your lovemaking is obnoxiously loud; the clap, clap, clap of skin is echoing like gunfire in vi’s obsolete bedroom.
then you bring your middle finger to your clit, stroking it with ferocity, and you’re quick to come because the feeling of vi’s clit inside you is the nastiest thing you’ve experienced thus far in life. and vi’s whole body convulses when she feels your contractions around her clit. her own muscles are clenching and unclenching as wave after wave of mind-numbing ecstasy rips through her—all because of the way her throbbing, pulsing nub is buried inside the velvet-heat of your hole.
summary: she has always trusted fate. she was destined to someone and she was determined to find it. she found herself wrapped in hands that feel warm like the sun, but that belonged to someone else. she keeps on looking, only to find out that her fate had been watching over her, just like the moon.
chapter index
pairing: jinyoung x reader
genre: angst!! fluff
summary: he showed up at your place unannounced, looking tired and small, at 12:04am - something he never did - with the excuse he missed you. was that really it?
word count: 4.4k
read it here
pairing: jinyoung x reader
genre: smut, hints of fluff/angst?
summary: while looking for your contact case, jinyoung came across something much more interesting at your top drawer.
word count: 4.4k
read it here
pairing: got7 x reader
genre: a little bit of everything
summary: a collection of requested got7 drabbles based on this prompt list
index
pairing: yugyeom x reader
genre: stripper!au, smut
summary: it was your last night as a stripper, so why not enjoy it by devouring the cute, inexperienced and mesmerizing birthday boy?
To the common troll, the very utterance of the word evokes worry, suspicion, a suspicious glance to those around us. We all know our history with their people, a history full of deception, espionage, assassinations and infiltration. To the common troll, a changeling brings with them tragedy and misfortune.
But indeed, it is not just the common troll that suffers. To be a changeling is to never know peace. If they are found by trolls, they are killed. If they are found by humans, they are killed. This is the life of a changeling.
(Please click below for the full story)
Let’s make one thing very clear. I don’t excuse the horrors brought to our communities by the hands of these half-trolls, half-humans. There have been many deaths, and many tears shed, all for a purpose that none of us have yet to figure out, and may well never know.
But, at the same time, I will not deny that their existence is an ongoing hardship, and even those who have attempted to return after being taken have been chased away with stone and steel and the cries of ‘Impure’ at their backs. There is no home for them among trolls, or with humans, where they must always play pretend. Pretend has many more downsides, I’ve learned. Man may not be made of living stone like my people, but they are just as bloodthirsty, and capable of the same evil as Gumm Gumms and those who worship Gunmar.
Now, I know it’s going to be foolish to admit, but I did try tracking down a changeling up in Arcadia a while back. Not to capture or fight, but to speak with. It wasn’t easy, obviously. They hide in plain sight, and I cannot be out during the day like them.
Perhaps they got tired of my snooping, or suspicious at the very least, but I did catch the attention of one. Death threats aside, he was polite, and with a few exchanged words, a deal was struck.
He would grant me audience, I would agree to leave his people alone and not disclose any information that could be seen as a threat to their security. I imagine he was also amenable to the idea that a story may make sympathizers among trolls, making their goal easier to obtain. Doubtful, of course, but the idea of sympathy was not a poor one.
“The old Vespa Warehouse,” he told me. “Tomorrow night. We shall speak there, and you may ask for whatever story you wish. I cannot promise that it will be legitimate, though.”
Of course not, I thought. But the cataloguing of a real changeling’s life would be a welcome addition to my archives of Trollkind, and I’ve always been told that my curiosity was my constant lead to trouble.
Say what you will about changelings, but they keep to their words when bargains are struck, regardless of if they intended a backstab or not, which I had a feeling wouldn’t be necessary here.
He was in a small office within the building, sitting alone in a deteriorating room, waiting patiently. He seemed rather pleased that I’d shown up, at the very least. He greeted me, I took a seat nearby, and he asked a definitive question. What did I wish to know. I asked for only two things. His name, and what he’d done to survive among humans for so long.
The first was easy, just Otto. A surname was inconsequential, he was bound to change it in a few decades anyways.
The second, he found, was harder to answer.
“I am not sure if I understand this question fully, mein freund.” He said carefully, arms crossed.
“You’ve been on the surface for the last couple of centuries, right? We all know the humans have gone to war with themselves more than a few times. What was it like going through them, pretending to be human?” I asked.
Again, he found trouble finding his answer.
“I... hm. The last I was caught in, I did not pretend to be human for very long, I will admit, but that is a long, and difficult story.”
I encouraged him to tell his tale, though I could tell that the memories were something he did not want to bring to surface. This was a story to earn sympathy, to show the hardships of his species, to keep record of their stories as I would any other troll. It took some time, and some silence, but eventually, he told me his harrowing years in Poland, back in the human year of 1939.
“You must forgive me now if I do not remember everything correctly, but these times, they were chaotic, and I did a great many things to survive them. You trolls had long left to America by this time, with very few communities remaining as far as my people could tell, so I doubt you’d know much about World War Two outside of books. Back then, I was just another changeling, so to speak. A bit of muscle, just a quiet ear to the ground to send word back to the others in the area as was needed. My human life was nothing important... but that meant that food got harder to come by at that time, and neither of these things seemed to deter German soldiers from seeking me out. They were looking for magic, you see. Their fuhrer wished for power, be it from the deaths of other humans or from that which they call supernatural and arcane. Fellow changelings were captured, and it makes me understandably sick to think of what was done to them, but the most important thing was the safety of our sanctuary at the time.”
He paused, and looked me in the eye.
“I only mention it because it is gone now. Months before its destruction, sights had finally been set on me, and that place was the only that would keep me safe. We are not as indestructible as you, after all. Humans are always looking for ways to kill things even faster, even more painfully. One could easily brush off an arrow or sword, but wartime ballistic weapons pierce and hurt even our hardiest changelings these days. That much has been the way of things for a hundred years or so, now. But that is is aside from the point. You wish to know how I lived through such a dangerous time, when humans could easily shoot me down and were actively hunting me. The truth is, I’m... not proud of how. It was certainly not my first option, either, but one does what they must when they are cornered.” He paused, pushing his small glasses up his face a little.
“The first time it happened, I was cornered by a soldier in a back alley, in a town that I doubt still exists. He’d shot me in the leg, I was limping and helpless. I’m not sure how I’d been exposed, but he was after me because I was a changeling. A lucky reason to be hunted, many humans did not have that luxury, and were taken for far more mundane reasons... The first time it happened, I was cornered, and I was injured, and something in me snapped. I was a younger troll then, more quick to act on instinct.”
He shook his head, and looked troubled. I assured him that he didn’t need to continue if he didn’t wish it so, but he told me it was fine. It was difficult, but it was indeed something to be archived. If anything of changelings should be remembered, it’s what happens when they are pushed from all sides.
“One moment, he was approaching gun raised, the next... I was no longer in my glamour, and no longer hungry. It was... Hm. I was, scared, I think. We changelings were never part of the Pact you trolls follow, but we also normally don’t... eat, uh, humans. We ourselves are half human, so in a way it is cannibalism, yes? I was horrified, naturally. Killing a fleshbag is easy, but to lose control and eat was something different entirely. That’s when I knew I needed to return to my sanctuary. They would have food there, and shelter, and surely safety from the soldiers who wanted my capture. It was months before I reached it, having to hide often, trying to avoid losing control, and... occasionally losing it.” He laughed, nervously, as if it was an embarrassment. “The safe haven was gone when I came across it. Whether those inside had destroyed it to keep our existence safe, or there had been a lucky strike from a Luftwaffe, I will never know. It was still burning when I got there, with the soldiers pouring over it for anything useful. Those bastards, they do not realize how easily we crumble to dust. There was nothing for them there, but for me, it just meant there was nowhere for me to go... This is where things get fuzzy. I lost control, again, I think. And there are... moments, I remember, of lucidity, after that. Forests, snow, sometimes I think I came across soldiers, but I don’t know if I killed them or not. I was... not myself, then, but I still was particular. Only the soldiers and men with the armbands were eaten. You look in those history books from the surface, mein freund. You’ll see I did the fleshbags a service.”
“Ah, but that’s beside the point. The point is. Humans drove me into the woods. I did not have any changelings alive to help me anymore, and the local trolls would easily sniff me out. You asked me what I did to survive? Apparently, I lost my mind and ran off into the wilderness, for a length of time I still cannot seem to comprehend. I’ve been given numbers numerous times after being found, but they mean nothing to me. I survived by becoming a wild animal, because there was nowhere else to go.”
It’s been a few days since the meeting with the changeling, and I still wonder about a great many things. What is it like to lose yourself to instinct to survive? How do you life your life unable to find community, unable to trust others of your kind? What must it be like, to not be welcomed by anybody in times of trouble? The life of a changeling is a complicated one, and despite what many full blooded trolls may believe, they are still as much troll as any of us.
Perhaps Otto told a lie to earn sympathy, perhaps he told a truth to get it off his chest and forget about it for good... Or, perhaps, he hoped to have something of his people remembered in some way that wasn’t of fear or distrust. I don’t think I’ll ever know the truth, I don’t even know if he still lives, though changelings are notorious for faking deaths. There is only one thing for certain that I learned from this.
What would we do to survive in a world that is against us from all sides? Who would we turn to out of desperation and anger? What would we do to keep our people from extinction? These are questions we should always ask ourselves in the face of changelings who work against us. You do not have to like them or what they do, but you cannot deny their existence.
These are real trolls, three dimensional and complicated as any other, and we must never forget this.
mdni. sub-top vi with a dick. fem power-bottom reader. vaginal sex. breeding. p in v sex.
vi masterlist
word count: 1.5k
thinking about whiny girlcock vi, who has the most sensitive dick you’ve ever bared witness to. the two of you have been hooking up for months now and she might be the best sex you’ve ever had. her reactions are priceless too, especially when she first pops the head of her cock inside your hole and she looks like she’s ascended to heaven. you can always picture her blissed out face so clearly in your mind whenever you touch yourself.
her cock is girthy, so fat that you can’t even fit your entire hand around it, and when she’s inside you, you can feel her reach your bellybutton. plus, when she’s fucking into you, she moans as if she’s the one getting fucked. if anyone were to overhear, they’d assume those were your squeaky whimpers, the sounds of you begging.
sometimes you try to just lay back and relax, allow vi to ravage you with her cock, but then she’s breaking you out of your trance and asking if it feels good, if she’s doing it right—and you sigh because she’s so dependent on you, she needs you to tell her what to do. your pussy makes her feel dumb, it makes her brain melt out of her head.
currently, you’re in her lap, bouncing on her cock like she’s nothing more to you than a toy. you’re riding her with a maddeningly slow rhythm, just because you like the faces she makes when you do; like vi can’t decide if it feels good or if she’s going to cry out of frustration.
you whimper, clenching down hard on the thick shaft impaling you, feeling it pulse and throb inside your fluttering walls, feeling the heartbeat in the thick veins running up the sides. you grinds your hips down, taking vi as deep as she can go, loving the way that her fat cock-head kisses your cervix.
vi’s desperation is palpable, her hips twitching and jerking with the effort of holding still, of letting you set the pace. It's clear that she's absolutely dying to just grab your hips and rail into you with pathetic fervor, to fuck you through the goddamn mattress until you’re both a babbling, drooling mess. but she's trying so hard to be good, to let you use her like the fucktoy she is.
vi’s hips twitch with uncontrollable desperation against you and a sudden cry escapes her lips. “baby, fuuuck, please—just, just a little bit faster—ohh!”
“are you really going to—hmmff—going to make me tell you again, vi? stay still,” you say, grabbing her face firmly, cupping her chin so she’s forced to look up and see the disappointment in your eyes. then you lean in, capturing vi’s lips in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue as you suck the air from her lungs. you bite at vi’s bottom lip, tugging on it with your teeth before soothing the sting with a kitten-lick of your tongue. she moans into your mouth, pulling you closer to her chest with frenzy of hands. “just make me come. okay, sweetheart? then we can, ahh, talk about what to do with you.”
vi chokes on a sob. her eyes, so blue, are staring at you pleadingly. “you’re so t-tight—unghhh! holy shit, i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she mindlessly babbles.
vi clearly doesn’t realize the strength in which she’s gripping onto your waist, because it’s hurting you, but right now you can’t even bring yourself to care enough. you’re consumed by the thought of her cock, excited to feel her come inside you, to stuff you full of her arousal. the pain at your waist stings pleasantly anyway, it makes your pussy clench around her cock harder and she gasps as if she’s been stabbed.
”shhh, i know it’s hard, baby. but you gotta—hnngh—hold it together for me, you gotta wait until i’m, ahh, ready to come. don’t you want to feel me come around your cock?”
vi’s chest is heaving and her face is flushed a deep, pretty candy-pink. she’s staring at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. she looks utterly debauched, completely lost in the feeling of your velvet heat squeezing her so fucking tight, but she nods obediently anyway. she’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
”mmm, you can take it,” you say encouragingly, rubbing circles on her rosy nipples. vi’s head falls back against your headboard, moaning like she’s been gutted. you know she’s going to have a sore throat after this because she hasn’t been quiet once.
”ughh, mmmff, yes—“ vi’s moans are raspy and urgent. her breaths come out in sharp, staccato gasps and her eyelids flutter as she struggles to keep them open.
you hum pleasantly, pleased to see that you’re making vi feel so good, like she’s on another astral plane. sex with her is always intimate and passionate, despite how cruel you can often be.
vi puckers her lips, tilting her chin up to capture your own in a slow, deep kiss. it’s a stark contrast to the frantic, desperate kisses you shared earlier. your tongue traces the seam of vi’s lips, coaxing them apart, and then you’re slipping inside to stroke along vi’s own tongue, tasting her, savoring her.
vi whimpers into the kiss, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair, holding you close as she loses herself in the sensual slide of your mouths. she can taste herself on your tongue from an hour ago, when you had her cock down your throat. the lingering flavor of her own arousal mixes with the unique taste that is purely you, and it makes her head spin with desire.
pulling away, you pepper kisses down her neck—vi is sensitive everywhere, not just her cock. you suck more bruises into her flesh, laving your tongue over older marks that are beginning to fade away.
vi gasps sharply. she’s always been a sucker for neck kisses.
then, despite your numerous warnings this entire time, vi’s cock starts swelling as her orgasm approaches faster. you can feel her skin buzzing and you’re about to give her a piece of your mind, to remind her that you haven’t come yet, until she starts thrusting her hips up into your with abandon. you bite your tongue, holding onto her broad shoulders for dear life. your breasts bounce right in her face.
”yes, yes—oh my god, yes!” you cry, and you’re close, you can feel electricity starting in your toes and making its way up your body.
vi’s back is arching off your headboard, her toes are curling in the sheets. her toned body withers beneath you, the muscles in her arms flexing as she starts to lose herself in the intense pleasure radiating from her core.
“fuck me, fuck me—nghhh, fuck me!” vi is chanting, then her words dissolve into a soundless scream of ecstasy as her climax crashes over her.
vi’s entire body tenses up; she feels like a rock beneath you—hard muscles and all. her cock erupts like a volcano inside your pussy, jet after jet of white-hot come filling your womb. she’s shamelessly painting your insides white and her eyes are rolled back in bliss, her tongue lolling out of her mouth like a dumb puppy. she’s completely lost in the throes of her orgasm; she’s dizzy with the pleasure wracking her body.
you have no choice but to clench down hard on vi’s spasming cock, milking it for her entire creamy load. you grind down hard on her twitching shaft, taking every last inch of it inside your pussy. you want to feel vi’s come sloshing around in your stuffed cunt, you want to be absolutely filled with her essence.
vi’s cock gives a few more feeble pulses inside your hot, clenching cunt before finally starting to soften, the thick shaft slumping heavily against your stuffed walls.
that’s when you begin to orgasm on her cock, while she’s sensitive and exhausted, and vi lets out a sob when she feels your pussy walls contracting around her. it’s her punishment for coming before you. and you redouble your efforts, slamming your hips down with a brutal, punishing force that has the headboard slamming against the wall.
“ohhh, vi—mmf! feels so good, babe,” you moan, rolling your hips fast and uncoordinated. you’re grinding down on her so hard that you can feel her heavy balls slap against your ass, the ones that emptied her thick load inside you.
vi grips onto your waist, trying to pull you off her cock with hazy eyes, but you shove her hands away until you’re completely satisfied. vi lets out a garbled moan, her eyes rolling back in her head. every time you roll your hips and drop them into her lap, it sounds like you’re jumping in a puddle of rain outside; because vi’s lap is completely drenched in your wetness, her fat loads of come are messily spilling out around her cock, too much to fit inside you—making the mess even worse.
“fuuck—unngh!” vi sobs.
when you’re done, you collapse against vi’s chest. she looks utterly ruined, completely fucked out and satisfied in a way that makes your heart clench with possessive pride. vi sits there, utterly boneless and spent.
jinx has always had a vivid imagination. her creative yet chaotic mind is something she’ll never be rid of, so it makes sense when that transfers over into her REM state of sleep.
she used to have night terrors—relentless, haunting things that made sleep feel like a battleground. but since meeting you, she says the nightmares have subsided. as long as you’re sleeping beside her, jinx’s dreams are nothing more than a quiet, endless void—a darkness that, for once, feels safe.
but you have an inkling as to what she really dreams about now. because every night, once she drifts deep enough, her hips begin shifting, moving lazily against your leg.
it starts off languid, almost imperceptible, but the further her dreams pull her under, her movements grow more insistent, more intense. soft whines escape her chapped lips, her breath hitching as she unconsciously seeks out friction. even in her sleep, she's desperate for something just out of reach, lost in a world of sensation she won't remember in the morning.
you can feel it—the heat of her pussy, the dampness seeping through her thin, pink panties, smearing against your bare thigh. she’s soaked, wet and sticky, sloppy in her haste to make herself come.
her fingers twitch where they rest on the sheets, grasping at nothing, moaning sleepily, “uhh, uhh, mmm.”
you tense your thigh, helping to create more pleasurable friction while jinx humps you like a dumb mutt, and you wonder what she’s dreaming about. is she remembering how you stuffed her needy pussy full of cock earlier that day? how you fingered her in that gross, grimy alleyway the other week, making her cry?
her slutty body is completely debauched while her face is peaceful with sleep, mirroring a fallen angel. the juxtaposition is amusing—funny almost—and so is the way jinx’s pussy always needs your constant attention, even in a state of rest.
she’s teasing you and she doesn’t even know it.
every night she only sleeps in a little pair of panties, her legs and torso bare, pink nipples pebbled due to the bite of chilly air. and right now, all you want is to push her panties to the side, to stuff your nose inside her cunt until her pheromones make you feel drunk, to kitten-lick her little hole while her arousal soaks your chin like honey nectar, to feel her spongy walls cling to your fingers like a corset drawn too tight.
her nose is wiggling like a bunny, pink tongue sticking out between her parted lips. you imagine she’s dreaming of kissing you now, of how you fuck your tongue inside her mouth until she grows dumb, how all she can do is hang onto you for comfort while you ravage her sweet lips.
she’s such a needy little thing, always relying on you to make her grow stupid and mindless.
jinx looks so sexy like this; vulnerable and trusting, unaware of the depraved thoughts running through her own mind. the bed is starting to creak and shake with the strength behind her thrusts and you’re surprised she hasn’t woken up yet.
you know she’s getting close because she’s humping against you sloppy and staccato now. her panties are nothing more than a sopping, squelching mess every time they make contact with your thigh. you can hear the obscene sound clearly in the quiet of your bedroom, the way the soaked fabric clings and sticks to jinx’s swollen pussy lips, only to peel away with a lewd, wet schlick.
her eyebrows are creased and she’s panting with more desperation. your own cunt throbs in sympathy.
”that’s it, baby. let it out, there ya go,” you murmur, brushing her bangs from her eyes.
and she listens to you—despite her unconscious state—because she comes against your thigh suddenly. her back arches like a drawn bow and her pussy is scalding hot like lava, a fresh flood of arousal gushing out of her tight hole.
her pink tongue lolls out, dripping down her chin with drool as she pants and mewls, drowning in the sensations that consume her dreaming mind. and as quickly as it began, it's over. jinx goes limp, collapsing against the mattress like a puppet with its strings cut. her little chest heaves as she gulps down air, her skin flushed in the darkness.
she settles back into the mattress, one of her thighs still thrown carelessly over your hip, pinning you in place. you don’t mind, finding a perverse sense of comfort in jinx’s claim on you, even in her sleep.
mdni. sub-top puppy vi. power-bottom fem-reader. ass tribbing. pet play. degradation. orgasm denial. based off this video.
vi masterlist
word count: 1.1k
vi humps her cunt against your ass any chance she gets—sneaking up on you in the kitchen and rutting away like a dumb mutt; grinding her clit against you in the early mornings, while you’re still pliant and sleepy; pulling you into dark, grimy alleyways and pressing you against a cold brick wall, rubbing her clothed-pussy against you and saying, “i’m sorry, baby, i’m—hnghh! needed you, need you!”
and you let her take what she needs; finding a perverse sense of satisfaction in knowing she’ll have to wear sticky, soiled underwear until you two get home.
tonight, you return late after a long day, ready to knock out in bed. you should’ve known vi would never let that happen, not when her pussy has been leaking all day thinking about you.
it’s unsurprising, but nevertheless lewd, to find vi in your shared bedroom, humping your pillow in specific. she has drool dribbling down her chin, teeth marks imprinted into her lips from the severity of her gnawing on the skin. she looks like a feral dog. and, of course, you’ll have to punish her, train her to be a good puppy.
”jesus, baby, how long have you been at this for?” you murmur, tossing your bag to the floor and kicking off your shoes.
fuck, your pillow is soaked through—no doubt, ruined. judging by the severity of the stains, she’s must’ve come at least thrice, rubbing her pussy raw in your absence. you’ll have to throw your pillowcase in the trash, sleep on it bare tonight, all because vi decided she couldn’t keep it in her pants until you got home. what a naughty girl she is.
“i—i can explain, just—“
you shush her plaintively, tugging your pants down your legs, followed by your underwear, and crawl onto the bed.
“come here, doggy,” you say, nice and syrupy, patting your lap slow as if she’s too stupid to understand. it’s degrading, it’s condescending, and vi’s blood burns white-hot. still, she crawls over to you.
you flip onto your stomach when vi reaches you, and she instantly knows what you’re suggesting, body going boneless, head fuzzy. her round puppy-eyes are wide and a little desperate—especially crazed when she sees your wet pussy squished between your thighs, and she wants to touch you there so badly, but she knows you won’t allow her to, given that she’s been a bad dog.
instead, she settles her cunt onto your ass—and vi has always run hot, but the warm slick of her pussy feels profoundly molten against you right now. she languidly drags her clit along the curve of your rear, huffing air through her nose, and patience is obviously not her strong suit, never has been—poor, needy puppy—so she briskly picks up the pace, having waited for you long enough. her arousal spreads across the skin of your ass in long, soggy stripes.
”oohh—oh, hnngff—fuck!”
she’s mewling high in her throat, digging crescents into the skin of your hips, holding you still like you’re a fuckdoll for her to use. you almost want to scold vi for being so needy, for treating you like nothing more than an object to be played with. but you’re tired after a long day, your mind is mush, and the desperate little noises she’s making are so cute. vi can have her fun for now.
you melt into the plush of your bed like butter on toast. the damp, pink hair framing her cunt tickles your skin every now and again.
she presses her breasts against your back, hooking her arms underneath your torso like a backpack. her clit feels so swollen against your ass—pretty thing must be flushed purple and red with need—and then she starts rutting against you at a breakneck pace.
”slutty baby,” you coo. “that’s right, just make yourself feel good.”
vi whines in response, high-pitched and vaguely animalistic. “shit, shit, please—“
she’s humping your ass like a dog with a chew toy, whimpering through gritted teeth, and her nails pinch the skin of your shoulders—hard enough to sting. vi’s so far gone, so fuckdrunk, you doubt she notices. and it’s okay, the sharp pain bites pleasantly, makes it even sweeter when you feel big, messy globs of cream drooling out from vi’s hole, warm and glossy against your skin. fuck, her cunt is making a dirty mess of you.
and vi’s pussy has always been a talker, but it’s particularly loud today, especially prominent in the quiet hum of your bedroom—schlick, schlick, schlick. she must have been soaked and needy since this morning. it’s laughable, it’s pitiful. what a dumb doggy.
her skin is hot, fevrish, warming you like a furnace, snd you know her clit must be sore from playing with her pussy for hours, must hurt every time she ruts against your ass. you can hear it in her raspy whines, the way she flinches—but, still, she takes what she needs, rocking back and forth like a rowboat.
”always so horny, sweetheart. we gotta do something about that, gotta get you spayed.”
vi gasps, sharp and wounded, as if your words have sunk their teeth into her, shaking her down to the bone. you and your filthy mouth. she should tell you to stop treating her like a dog, stop reducing her to nothing but a mindless, dumb animal.
but she can’t, won’t.
she likes it too much.
rather, she proves you right; rubbing her cunt against your ass with newfound desperation. she’s trembling and panting, whimpering like some poor, pent-up bitch in heat—hugging her thighs around your rear, holding you still, keeping you at the perfect angle to put the right amount of pressure on her clit.
”hah, baby, i can’t take it—“
“go faster,” you interrupt, and vi obeys, like a dog on a leash.
your bed frame groans and it sounds like the wood is sighing, tired and worn, creaking under the weight of vi’s hypersonic thrusts. her lips are at your ear, drool dribbling onto your skin, and fuck, she’s so loud. and you’re muttering filth into the sheets, making her clit twitch against your ass, pushing her closer to euphoria.
when her pace peters out into uncoordinated jerks of her hips, you ask knowingly, “are you gonna cum, sweetie?”
”uh-huh, yes, fuck—“
god, she sounds so cute, so desperate for you, slurring gibberish into your ear—but you can’t help yourself; abruptly, you sit up on your knees, effectively pushing vi off of you. she plops onto her ass, still whorishly naked, except now she looks even dumber, utterly perplexed. she whines petulantly, crawling on her hands and knees toward you.
how embarrassing. such a needy thing.
and you sigh deeply—as if it hurts you to do this, as if it’s not filling you with a sadistic sense of satisfaction—saying:
