honey

boo

[hanniewho]

𐙚˙✧˖°Welcome to my blog-°☆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Call me Han ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆──★ ˙ ̟ 🐇 !!

⋆✦ She / They

⊹♡ I write some fanfic and make comics!

✮⋆˙ Fandoms I'm in and will write about:

My Chemical Romance

Arcane

Pierce The Veil

Tokyo revengers

Sally Face

Call of duty

The last of us

Resident Evil

۫ ꣑ৎ I also do Dead Doves do not eat, and you guys can spam my inbox with your freakiest desires, I don't mind!

[hanniewho]

hello everyone im gonna give you guys a notice ill be taking a break till may because im not doing great right now!! im so drained and tired ive got multiple death threats and just left my groomer which im supposed to be happy about but I know its not okay when I started to miss him. im currently trying to get my shit together and get my issues sorted up🤍

thank you all so much for supporting me stay tuned for more fanfics🫶

[hanniewho]

HI GUYSSSS IM HAVING A WRITING BLOCK SO IM SKETCHING ILLI AND WARREN BCOS WHY NOT

I MEAN ITS JUST A ROUGH SKETCH SO HEH

[hanniewho]

I loveee your recent fic of Gerard “GAGGED!!”

Gerard worshiping our body and taking his time instead of just a quick fuck OMFG that was so so hot and sweet!! Lowkey have a feeling that reader actually knows it wasn’t a wet dream but is deliberately teasing Gerard but who knows

I just wanted to know if you’re gonna make a part 2 or if you can 👀

If you don’t it’s fine I just wanted to let you know I enjoyed reading this fic!! <33

GASSSPPP honestly, seeing you catch that detail made my entire night. the idea of the reader knowing it wasn't a dream and just teasing Gerard? that is literally so delicious and fits the power dynamic perfectly. you’ve got the vision!! I’m actually working on some notes for a pt 2 now... stay tuned for the fallout!! mwah mwahh!!🤍🤤

ALSO IM SO SORRY GUYS I TOOK 5 BUSINESS DAYS TO REPLY SOBSSS

[hanniewho]

should I start a new series for illi mcmillin

YAY

NAY

Voting ended onMar 26

[hanniewho]

hihi welcome back!! I hope your doing so well! I was lowk wondering if you'd write something comforting for Mikey? it could be any plot you want it to be or head canons for different scenarios!

much much love xox take your time <3

HIIIII!!

Oh my god, seeing your name in my inbox literally made my day! You’ve been here since the literal trenches of this blog and it means the world to see you still here a year later! 💖

I’m doing great, and I hope you are too! You always have the best timing with your requests—we definitely needed some Mikey healing after that Gerard madness LMAOO. Taking my time to make this extra soft just for you!

THE STATIC BETWEEN STATIONS

.⋆♱ CONTENT WARNING: Self-harm mentions, mental health struggles, heavy angst, purely comfort/healing.

MIKEY WAY HEADCANONS!! 🩹

Mikey is a tall, lanky guy, and he uses it to his advantage. When you’re out in public and people are crowding you, he just kind of... looms? Not in a scary way, just in a "I am a human barrier between you and the world" way. He’ll rest a hand on the small of your back just to let you know he's there.

He doesn't do big, grand gestures. Comfort with Mikey is a quiet text at 3 AM that just says, "saw this comic and thought of u," with a blurry photo attached. It’s his way of saying you’re on my mind without the pressure of a deep conversation.

He’s the king of "low-energy" dates. If you’re too tired to exist, he’ll show up with a bag of cheap gas-station snacks and a stack of movies he knows you’ve seen a thousand times. He’s perfectly happy just sitting on the floor of your room, eating Flamin' Hot Cheetos in total silence while the movie plays in the background.

If he sees you’re getting overwhelmed in a loud room, he doesn't ask if you're okay (because he knows that just makes you panic more). He just pulls one earbud out of his own ear and holds it out to you. He’ll play something calming—Iron & Wine or some obscure indie band—and just sit there with you, tethered by a single cord.

He’s the type to "accidentally" leave his favorite, oversized, scratchy thrift-store cardigan at your house when he knows you’re having a rough week. It smells like his laundry detergent and old bookstores, and he knows you’ll wear it until it loses his scent.

Unlike Gerard, who is all chaos and intensity, Mikey is the steady ground. He’s the one who remembers to make sure you’ve actually eaten or drank water. He’ll just wordlessly set a glass of water no Kool-Aid, just pure water! in front of you and nod.

Mikey has those long, spindly "bass player" fingers. When you’re sitting together, he’ll wordlessly press his palm against yours, comparing the size of your hands. He doesn’t say anything, but he’ll hook his fingers through yours and just leave them there, letting the size difference between your knuckles be a quiet anchor.

When he’s comforting you, he doesn't always have the words, so he hums. Usually a line from a song he’s practicing. It’s a low, vibrating sound that you can feel if your head is resting on his chest, and it’s more soothing than any "it'll be okay" could ever be.

He’s the best person to drive with when you're sad. He won't make you talk. He just puts on a CD, rolls the windows down just an inch so there's a breeze, and drives the long way home. He’ll keep one hand on the gear shift and the other resting on the edge of the steering wheel, right where you can reach it if you need to.

Mikey knows his brother is... a lot. If Gerard is being too loud, too intense, or too "Artistic" and he sees you starting to wilt, Mikey will interject with a dry, sarcastic comment that snaps Gerard out of it. He’s the only one who can roll his eyes at Gee and get away with it, and he does it specifically to protect your peace.

He’ll show up at your door with a ridiculous, oversized vintage t-shirt he found for two dollars. "It looked like something you'd sleep in," he’ll mutter, looking at his shoes because he's too shy to see your reaction. It becomes your favorite pajamas immediately.

If you fall asleep on his couch, he’s not going to do anything weird. He’ll just awkwardly drape a knitted throw blanket over you, making sure your toes are covered, and then he’ll go sit in the kitchen and eat so he doesn't wake you up.

Mikey has a gut feeling about the basement. He doesn't know exactly what Gerard is up to, but he notices when you come upstairs looking pale. He’ll start "accidentally" hanging out in the kitchen more when you're over, just to make sure you're okay, offering you a plain, safe soda and a quiet look that says "I'm watching out for you."

If you wear glasses, he’s the only person allowed to touch them. He’ll notice a smudge before you do, wordlessly reach out, take them off your face, and fog them up before wiping them clean with the hem of his softest t-shirt. For those few seconds, you’re looking at his blurry, focused face, and he’s looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the room.

When he’s nervous or trying to comfort you, his hands are never still. He’ll drag his knuckles softly back and forth along the sleeve of your hoodie, a repetitive, rhythmic motion that’s incredibly grounding. It’s like he’s trying to "pet" the anxiety right out of your fabric.

Mikey is the king of the 3:00 AM snack. If you can't sleep, you’ll find him in the kitchen in his boxers and a giant band tee, staring into the fridge like it’s a TV screen. He’ll just silently hold out a half-eaten bag of grapes or a slice of American cheese, a "peace offering" for the ghosts keeping you awake.

If you’re too stressed to read, he’ll lay on his stomach next to you and read his latest comic book out loud. He does all the voices—badly—just to make you crack a smile. He’ll point out the art details, his long finger tracing the ink lines, until you forget why you were even upset.

If you ever fall asleep with your head on his chest, he doesn't move. He’ll stay perfectly still for hours, even if his arm goes numb. The rhythm of his heart is steady and slow, like a metronome, and if he’s humming a bassline under his breath, you can feel the vibration in your skull. It’s the safest you’ve ever felt.

It’s his signature "I’m here" move. He’ll just hook a large, warm hand over the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing the base of your skull. It’s not a hug, but it’s a tether. It says I’ve got you, and you aren't going anywhere, but in a way that feels like a promise, not a trap.

If he sees a new bandage or a stray mark you didn't hide well enough, he doesn't gasp or demand an explanation. He just leaves the room for a second and comes back with a clean glass of water and a small kit. He’ll sit on the floor at your feet, wordlessly waiting for you to offer your arm or leg, and he’ll clean you up with the steady, practiced hands of a bassist.

He develops a habit of gently tugging on the cuff of your sweater or hoodie—not to pry, but just to feel the fabric. It’s a silent way of saying, "I know you’re hiding, and that’s okay, but I’m holding onto you anyway." He’ll keep his fingers looped in your sleeve for as long as you let him.

When he senses the "darkness" coming over you—that specific, glazed-over look in your eyes—he’ll suddenly become very "clumsy" or "needy." He’ll ask you to help him find a specific bass pick or help him untangle a knot of cables. Anything to get your hands busy and your mind out of your own head for five minutes.

On the nights when your skin feels too tight and the urge is screaming, he’ll just show up with two freezing cold sodas. He’ll press one into your palm and hold it there. He’s read somewhere that the cold shock can help ground you. He won’t say that, though; he’ll just say, "This one’s extra carbonated, try it."

He knows the worst thoughts happen when you’re alone in the dark. He’ll start "falling asleep" on your floor or at the foot of your bed while reading a comic. He makes himself a constant, lanky presence in your peripheral vision, making sure you never feel like the only person left in the world.

If he sees you reaching for something sharp or picking at your skin, he’ll just… cover your hand with his. He won't take the object away with force; he’ll just lay his long, heavy hand over yours and squeeze. He’ll wait until your muscles relax, and then he’ll lace his fingers with yours and start talking about something mundane, like a movie trailer he saw.

Mikey knows what it's like to feel like the "broken" one in a family of big personalities. When you apologize for being "difficult," he'll just push his glasses up his nose bridge, look at you dead in the eye, and say: "I’m not going anywhere. You’re just you, and I like you." It’s simple, blunt, and 100% the truth.

Final thought, Mikey is not a loud person. He is not the one who will give you a big, dramatic speech about how much he loves you, and he’s not the one who will scream at the world on your behalf.

Instead, Mikey is The Anchor.

In a world that feels like it’s spinning too fast—filled with the chaos of the band, the intensity of his brother, and the weight of your own struggles—Mikey is the only thing that stays still. He is the quiet hum of a bass amp in a dark room. He is the person who will sit on a cold floor with you for four hours without saying a single word, just so you aren't alone.

His love isn’t a fire; it’s a constant temperature. It’s the feeling of a heavy blanket, a steady heartbeat, and the knowledge that no matter how many times you "break," he’s just going to keep sitting there, adjusting his glasses, and waiting for you to be ready to breathe again. He doesn't want to "fix" you; he just wants to be the person who holds the flashlight while you find your own way out of the dark.

[hanniewho]

GAGGED!!

⋆˚࿔SUMMARY : Childhood best friend share everything. Even the things they should have  kept down.

࣪ ִ ֶ ָ☾. NOTES : GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM THE DEAD?? I survived high school and all I got was this new color palette and a very specific kink for Gerard Way. I’m rebranding, I’m obsessed, and I’m finally posting again. Starting things off with a literal bang (and a heave). This is a Dead Dove, guys. Do not eat. Or do. I’m not your mom. Hope you guys love the new look as much as I do!

.⋆♱ WARNINGS : somnophilia (non-con), drug-use, biting, toxic behavior (manipulation, jealousy), dub-con, graphic description (vomit), virgin gee

✃ WORDS COUNT: 5.4K

.✦ ݁˖PAIRING : Virgin Gerard Way (Basement era) x AFAB reader

"Jesus Christ, Gee, your mom went hard on the lasagna tonight," you groaned, flopping onto the couch beside Gerard with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. Your stomach gurgled ominously, and you pressed a hand to it, willing the sensation to settle.

"You sure you didn't, like, inhale an entire pan?" Gerard snorted, nudging your knee with his socked foot as he grabbed the remote. The blue glow of the TV washed over his sharp cheekbones, catching the smudged eyeliner he hadn’t bothered to wipe off after the gig. "I saw you go back for thirds. And then fourths. And then—"

"Shut up," you mumbled, burying your face into Gerard's shoulder as he chuckled. The pressure in your stomach rolled like a storm warning, but you swallowed hard, focusing on the flickering screen where some poor idiot was about to get gutted by a masked killer. The gore was almost comforting—at least someone else was suffering worse than you right now. Gerard's fingers absentmindedly twisted a strand of your hair around his finger, the way he'd done since you were both sixteen and sharing his twin bed during thunderstorms.

The nausea hit you like a gut punch, sudden and undeniable. One second you were laughing at Gerard’s shitty horror movie commentary, the next your throat clenched tight, saliva flooding your mouth in a hot, urgent warning. "Oh fuck—" you barely managed to choke out before lurching upright, nearly kneeing Gerard in the process as you scrambled off the couch.

Gerard’s "Whoa—!" was half-laughter, half-concern as you bolted for the hallway, hand clamped over your mouth. The bathroom door was already swinging shut behind you when you heard his footsteps jogging after you—too late, you were already collapsing onto your knees in front of the toilet, heaving violently into the bowl. Lasagna chunks splattered against porcelain, the acidic burn of bile searing your throat.

The door slammed open before you could even register the cold tile against your palms. Gerard’s hands were on you instantly—one pressing warm and firm between your shoulder blades, the other gathering your hair back with a gentleness that shouldn’t have existed while you were retching into the toilet. His fingers trembled slightly against your scalp, but his grip was steady. The silence was wrong. Gerard was never quiet, not like this, not when you were bent over and shaking apart in his childhood bathroom.

Gerard's palm pressed harder into your spine as another wave of nausea wracked your body, his fingers twitching against your sweat-damp shirt. You could feel his breath—hot and uneven—against the back of your neck, closer than necessary, closer than normal, but right now you were too busy gagging into the toilet bowl to care. The silence between your retches was thick, broken only by the wet splatter of half-digested lasagna hitting water and the shaky exhale Gerard let out when your throat worked around another violent heave.

You slumped back on your heels, throat raw and trembling, spit and bile still clinging to your lips. The cool bathroom air hit your sweat-slicked skin like a slap, but Gerard’s hands were already there—one still tangled in your hair, the other rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. "Hey, it’s okay," he murmured, voice low and rough in a way that sent an entirely different kind of shiver down your spine. "I got you."

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, panting, and Gerard’s grip on your hair tightened—not painful, but present, grounding you in a way that made your skin prickle. His thumb brushed the nape of your neck, sticky with sweat, and you could feel him watching you, his breath still uneven against your shoulder. "Fuck," you croaked, voice wrecked. "I think I’m done."

Gerard’s hand lingered on your shoulder a second too long before he finally pulled away, his fingers dragging lightly against your damp shirt. “I’ll get you some water,” he murmured, voice low and oddly strained. “You should clean yourself up.” The bathroom door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with the sour tang of vomit still hanging in the air.

Gerard leaned against the hallway wall outside the bathroom, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to see stars. What the fuck was that. His pulse hammered in his throat, his skin too tight, his jeans suddenly unbearable where they pressed against his—no. No, no, no. He couldn’t be hard right now, not while you were in there puking your guts out, not when your sweat-damp hair had stuck to the back of your neck like that, not when your throat had worked around every heave like—Jesus Christ. He bit down on his bottom lip until it hurt, the metallic tang of blood snapping him back to reality.

The faucet hissed to life inside the bathroom, water splashing against porcelain. He could picture it—you bent over the sink, rinsing your mouth, wiping your chin with trembling fingers. His stomach twisted. He shouldn’t be picturing it. Not like this. Not ever. But the memory of your shoulders shaking under his hands, the way your breath hitched between retches, the heat of your skin through your shirt—fuck. He dragged a hand through his hair, gripping hard at the roots. Get it together, Way.

The glass trembled in Gerard's grip as he filled it under the tap, water sloshing over the rim and dripping onto his fingers. He barely noticed. His mind was a fucking car crash—worse than the splatter-fest playing on TV when you'd bolted for the bathroom. Twenty-four years old and he'd never so much as kissed someone properly, let alone—fuck. Meanwhile, you? You'd been fucking your way through half the scene since you turned eighteen, laughing about it afterward like it was nothing, like it didn't twist something hot and ugly in his gut every time you mentioned some stranger's hands on you.

Especially after his gigs. Especially when you'd disappear into some backroom with a groupie still buzzing from his performance, like his music was just foreplay for your next hookup. Pathetic. He was pathetic. He squeezed the glass tighter, knuckles bleaching white. At least horror movies didn't laugh at him when he got off to the fake screams and fake blood. At least they didn't know.

The medicine cabinet door squeaked as Gerard pulled it open, his fingers hovering over the rows of half-used prescriptions and dusty bottles. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the muffled sound of water running in the bathroom down the hall. His gaze snagged on the familiar amber bottle tucked behind his mom’s sleeping pills—chloral hydrate syrup, the thick, cloying stuff he’d choked down during the worst of his insomnia nights. The label was peeling at the corners. He remembered the way it made his limbs heavy, his thoughts syrupy slow.

Just a little. Just enough.

The bottle was heavier than he expected when he grabbed it. The cap twisted off with a dry pop, the smell beneath the lid sickly sweet, medicinal. His throat tightened. He didn’t measure. Didn’t care to. The syrup glopped into the glass of water in thick, uneven swirls, clouding the clear liquid. He stirred it with his finger—cold, sticky—then licked the residue off his skin without thinking. Bitter. Familiar. His stomach rolled, but his jeans were still too tight, his thoughts still too sharp where they circled back to you—your sweat-damp hair, the way your throat had worked around every heave, the heat of your skin under his trembling hands.

You won’t mind. You never mind.

The glass clinked against the counter when he set it down too hard. His reflection in the dark kitchen window was a ghost—pale, wide-eyed, lips bitten raw. He wiped his palms on his jeans. The syrup would take time. Not much. Enough. Enough to make your limbs heavy, your thoughts slow, enough to let him—what, exactly? Watch? Touch? Taste? His breath hitched. He didn’t know. Didn’t let himself think further than need, hot and clawing under his ribs.

The fridge door swung open with a soft whine, the fluorescent light casting a sickly glow over the contents. Gerard's gaze snagged on the half-empty bottle of cherry-red Kool-Aid shoved to the back—Frank’s leftover from their last hangout, because the idiot refused to drink plain water like a normal fucking human. His fingers closed around the plastic before he could think better of it, squeezing a generous glug of syrupy sweetness into the cloudy glass. The red swirled through the water in thick tendrils, bleeding into the dissolved syrup until the liquid turned a murky pink, the bitter medicinal scent drowned under artificial cherry.

The basement stairs groaned under Gerard's weight as he descended, the glass of murky pink liquid trembling in his grip. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and old band posters, the flickering overhead bulb casting long shadows across the concrete floor. And there you were—sprawled across his mattress like a discarded marionette, limbs loose and heavy, head lolling against his sweat-stained pillowcase. Your shirt clung to your chest, still damp from the bathroom sink, the fabric riding up just enough to expose a sliver of stomach.

"Brought you something," Gerard murmured, voice rough as he nudged the door shut with his hip. The latch clicked softly behind him, sealing you both in the dim, humming quiet of the basement. You blinked up at him, slow and unfocused, lashes fluttering against your flushed cheeks. Perfect. The word slithered through his mind like smoke, curling around his ribs until his breath stuttered. You looked wrecked—lips chapped, throat bobbing with every shallow swallow, fingers twitching where they lay limp against the mattress. So fucking weak. So fucking sick. So fucking his.

You groaned, squinting at the murky pink liquid Gerard pressed into your hands. The glass was cold against your clammy palms, condensation already beading along the rim. "Kool-Aid? Really?" Your voice came out hoarse, throat still raw from heaving. The smell of artificial cherry mixed sickeningly with the lingering bile in your mouth.

Gerard sank onto the mattress beside you, the springs creaking under his weight. His thigh pressed warm against yours through the thin fabric of his ripped jeans. "It works," he murmured, fingers brushing yours as he guided the glass closer to your lips. "Trust me." His breath hitched when you finally took a tentative sip—the syrupy sweetness cloying, masking something darker beneath.

You drained the last of the murky pink liquid with a grimace, throat working around the cloying sweetness. "Man," you rasped, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "I can't believe Frank could drink this shitty stuff." The aftertaste clung to your tongue—cherry syrup and something medicinal, something that made your head feel heavy the moment it hit your stomach. You slumped back against Gerard's shoulder, the mattress dipping under his weight as he leaned closer. His fingers traced idle circles on your knee, too deliberate to be casual.

Gerard's fingers twitched against yours, his grip tightening just enough to make your sluggish pulse stutter. "How do you feel?" His voice was too low, too careful—like he was balancing something fragile between his teeth.

"Like shit?" You sighed, pressing your forehead against Gerard's shoulder as the room tilted lazily around you. The glass was still clutched in your limp fingers, empty now except for a thin film of pink clinging to the bottom. "Man, I'm so sorry for destroying your toilet. I cleaned it, though." Your words slurred together, thick and slow like molasses, and you didn't miss the way Gerard's breath hitched when your lips brushed against the fabric of his shirt.

The glass slipped from your fingers, thudding onto the mattress with a dull sound. You barely registered it—your limbs felt weighted, your thoughts syrupy slow. "Gee," you mumbled into his shoulder, lips dragging against the worn fabric of his shirt. "M'head's all… fuzzy."

Gerard's hand slid from your knee to your fingers, his grip warm and damp as he laced them together. "Yeah?" His voice was low, rough—closer now, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. "Fuzzy how?" His thumb pressed into your pulse point, the pad of his finger catching on the rapid flutter beneath your skin.

Your eyelids dragged like lead weights, the dim basement light fracturing into hazy streaks across your vision. Gerard's fingers tightened around yours—too warm, too tight—and his thumb pressed harder into your wrist like he was counting each sluggish pulse point. "Mmm," you managed, tongue thick against your teeth. The word dissolved into a sigh as your head lolled against his collarbone, the sharp jut of bone digging into your temple. "Like… cotton. Or—or static."

Gerard’s exhale was shaky against your temple, his fingers twitching around yours like he was fighting the urge to squeeze tighter. “Static,” he repeated, voice rough—like he was savoring the word, rolling it around in his mouth like hard candy. His free hand brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, his fingertips lingering against your damp skin a second too long. “That’s good. Just… let it happen.”

Gerard's hands were suddenly everywhere—guiding your shoulders back against the mattress, fingers slipping beneath your knees to ease your legs down, his palm cradling the back of your head as it sank into the pillow. The room tilted violently, your vision swimming with dark spots that pulsed in time with your slowing heartbeat. "I got you," he murmured, lips brushing your temple as he leaned over you, his shadow swallowing the dim basement light. "You trust me, right?"

You managed a weak nod, your chin dipping toward your chest like a marionette with cut strings. The movement sent another wave of dizziness crashing through you, your eyelids fluttering shut against the blur of Gerard's face hovering too close, his breath hot and uneven against your parted lips. "M'kay," you slurred, the word thick as syrup. Your fingers twitched against the mattress, searching for something to grip, but all they found was the damp fabric of Gerard's shirt as he pressed you deeper into the bed.

Gerard's fingers trembled against the hem of your shirt, the fabric damp with sweat and clinging stubbornly to your skin. "I'm sorry, baby," he murmured, voice cracking like old vinyl as he peeled the cotton upward, inch by agonizing inch. His breath hitched when your stomach came into view—soft, still trembling faintly with every shallow breath. "I need this so bad." The shirt caught under your armpits, and he paused, his thumbs pressing into the delicate skin there, hot and insistent. "And you're just… so fucking perfect like this."

Gerard's lips brushed yours—hesitant at first, trembling like his fingers as they skated up your ribcage. The kiss tasted of bile and cherry syrup, bitter and cloying, and he groaned into it like he was starving. His hands shook where they palmed your stomach, fingers pressing into the soft flesh as if memorizing the way it yielded under his touch. "Fuck," he gasped against your mouth, his breath hot and ragged. "You taste—" His teeth grazed your bottom lip, biting down just enough to make you whimper. "—perfect."

The shirt hit the far wall with a soft thwap, lost somewhere in the dim clutter of Gerard's basement. His gaze flickered down to your bare chest—the flush creeping up his neck clashing violently with the smudged eyeliner still clinging to his waterline. His breath stuttered when your nipples pebbled under the basement's stale air, his fingers hovering just above your skin like he was afraid you'd dissolve under his touch. "Fuck," he whispered, more to himself than to you, before his teeth grazed your left nipple—hesitant, testing—his tongue flicking over the sting before he pulled back with a shaky exhale. "Do those people see you like this too?" His voice cracked on the last word, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "Those fucking— randoms after shows?"

You whimpered, head lolling against the pillow as another wave of drowsiness dragged at your limbs. The words tangled in your throat—no, never like this—but all that escaped was a slurred, "Gee…" His name dripped from your lips like syrup, thick and slow, and Gerard groaned like it physically hurt him, his forehead dropping against your sternum.

Gerard's grip on your hips faltered, his fingers twitching against your bare skin as he lifted his head. His eyeliner had smudged further—black streaks cutting through the flush high on his cheeks—and his lips were swollen from biting them raw. "Why is it never me?" His voice cracked like broken glass, sharp enough to cut through the syrupy haze clouding your thoughts. "Is it because I'm a virgin? Because I—" He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing violently. "Fuck, I don't know—because I'm a loser to you?"

Your fingers twitched against Gerard's wrist, weak as a dying moth's wings. "Gee… no—not now…" The words slurred together, thick and clumsy on your tongue. You tried to squirm away, but your limbs were lead weights, your muscles slack under the syrupy haze pressing down on your thoughts. The mattress groaned as Gerard shifted over you, his knees bracketing your hips, his breath hot against your collarbone.

The basement air clung to your bare skin like damp gauze as Gerard hovered above you, his breath ragged against your collarbone. His fingers traced the curve of your ribs—too hesitant, too reverent—like he was afraid you’d shatter under his touch. "You don’t get it," he muttered, lips brushing the hollow of your throat. "Every fucking time you come back from some stranger’s bed, laughing like it’s nothing—" His teeth grazed your pulse point, sharp enough to sting. "—I wanna ruin you."

Gerard’s teeth sank into the meat of your shoulder, sharp and sudden, and you gasped—more from the shock than the pain. His tongue lapped at the mark immediately after, hot and apologetic, but his hands were anything but sorry. They roamed your torso with a feverish desperation, mapping every dip and plane like he was trying to memorize you before you dissolved.

Gerard’s fingers fumbled at the button of your jeans, the metal cold against his shaking fingertips. He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound ragged as he wedged his knee between yours, spreading your legs wider across the mattress. The denim resisted for a heartbeat before yielding with a quiet pop—too loud in the thick silence of the basement. His breath hitched when the zipper slid down, teeth catching fabric as he peeled the jeans down your hips with a rough, jerking motion.

"Fuck," Gerard muttered, his voice wrecked as his knuckles brushed the damp fabric of your underwear. He hesitated there, fingers trembling against the waistband, his throat working around a swallow. The air between your legs was warm, thick with the scent of sweat and something faintly metallic—blood, maybe, or the ghost of bile still clinging to your skin. His nostrils flared. "Fuck, you’re—" His fingers curled into the fabric, twisting it tight enough to strain the seams. "—you’re wrecked."

The elastic of your underwear snapped against your hip as Gerard tugged it down in one rough motion, his breath catching when the damp fabric peeled away from your skin. His fingers traced the crease of your thigh—too hot, too shaky—before dipping inward, brushing the soft, overheated skin between your legs. "Jesus," he breathed, voice cracking like thin ice. "You're already—" His fingertip grazed your clit, feather-light, and you jerked beneath him, a weak sound escaping your throat.

You jerked away instinctively—or tried to—but Gerard's grip tightened on your thighs, pinning you to the mattress with surprising strength. His fingers dug into the soft flesh above your knees, blunt nails leaving half-moon indents as he leaned down, his breath hot and uneven against your inner thigh. "Just a taste," he murmured, lips brushing your skin—too close, too intimate—his voice cracking like a bad record. "I promise."

The words dripped from his mouth like honey, syrupy-sweet and cloying, but his hands were anything but gentle. They held you open with a desperation that bordered on violence, his thumbs pressing into the tender skin of your inner thighs hard enough to bruise. You whimpered—weak, pathetic—and Gerard shuddered above you, his eyeliner-smudged gaze locked on the wetness between your legs like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

Gerard's teeth sank into your inner labia with a sharp, sudden pressure that made your entire body jerk—not pain, not quite pleasure, just too much all at once. Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, tugging weakly as a garbled noise tore from your throat. His eyeliner-smudged gaze flicked up to yours, pupils blown wide and black as ink spills, before he groaned against your skin like the vibration alone could ruin him.

Your feet kicked uselessly against Gerard's shoulders, heels skidding against his sweat-damp shirt as he buried his face deeper between your thighs with a muffled groan. "Gee—fuck—you—you really don't know how to eat a pussy…" The words slurred together, thick and clumsy from the syrup clinging to your tongue, but the way Gerard's entire body shuddered against yours said he'd heard every syllable. His fingers dug harder into your thighs in response, blunt nails leaving crescent moons in your flesh as he dragged his teeth over your clit with deliberate, awkward pressure.

Gerard glared up at you through the tangled mess of his hair, eyeliner smeared into raccoon-dark crescents under his eyes—exactly like those shitty horror movies he’d forced you to watch since you were kids. The ones where the villain always got off on the victim’s pain, where the blood looked like cherry syrup and the screams sounded suspiciously like moans. His lips were swollen, spit-slick, pressed too hard against your clit as he sucked like he was trying to pull the venom from a wound.

Your heel connected with Gerard's shoulder with a weak thud—barely a nudge, really, your muscles still sluggish from the syrup—but he recoiled like you'd burned him. His grip on your thighs slackened just enough for you to squirm backward, the mattress springs creaking in protest as you dragged yourself up onto your elbows. "Stop—" The word came out garbled, your tongue too thick in your mouth. "I don't—I don't want this."

"You do," Gerard whispered, his voice cracking like dry kindling. His fingers trembled against your inner thighs, sticky with sweat and something else—something that made his stomach twist when he licked his lips. "Just rest that pretty head of yours, alright?" His thumb brushed your clit again, too light to be anything but teasing, and you whimpered—weak, pathetic, exactly how he wanted you. The sound punched through him like a stray bullet, hot and jagged.

Gerard’s breath hitched when your fingers tangled weakly in his hair again—not pushing him away, not pulling him closer, just there, trembling against his scalp like moth wings. He pressed his forehead into your inner thigh, exhaling shakily against the damp skin. "You’re so warm," he murmured, the words slurring together like he was the one drugged. His tongue dragged a slow, wet stripe up your slit, savoring the way your hips jerked beneath him. "Taste like—fuck—like cherries and salt."

Gerard looked up at you through the tangled mess of his hair—your eyelids fluttering shut, head lolling against the pillow, lips parted around shallow breaths. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. His fingers trembled as they fumbled with his jeans, the button popping open with a choked gasp. He was already impossibly hard, the fabric straining against him, damp with precome where it clung to the outline of his cock.

The zipper hissed as he dragged it down, teeth catching fabric, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet basement. His breath hitched when he finally freed himself—hot and heavy in his palm, veins standing stark against flushed skin. He squeezed once, twice, biting back a whimper at the slick drag of his own fingers. Fuck. Fuck. He wasn’t gonna last. Not with you spread out beneath him like some fucked-up offering, not with the way your thighs trembled when his thumb brushed your clit again.

Gerard's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he lined himself up, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts against your overheated skin. His cock twitched against your entrance—hot, slick with precome—and he hesitated there for a long, trembling moment, eyeliner-smudged gaze locked on where you were joined. "Fuck," he whispered, voice cracking like dry kindling. "You're—" His hips jerked forward involuntarily, the head of his cock catching on your rim before sliding in with a wet, choked sound.

The stretch burned—not quite pain, not quite pleasure—just too much all at once. Your fingers scrabbled weakly against the mattress, nails catching on the frayed fabric as Gerard bottomed out with a ragged groan. His hips stuttered against yours, sloppy and unpracticed, his breath hot and uneven against your collarbone. "Fuck," he gasped, voice cracking like cheap vinyl. "You're—fuck—you're so tight." His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise, blunt nails leaving crescent moons in your skin as he pulled back slightly, only to thrust forward again with a rough, jerking motion.

Gerard's grip tightened on your hips, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh like he was afraid you'd dissolve beneath him. His thrusts were uneven—too shallow, too sharp—his breath hitching with every clumsy snap of his hips. His forehead dropped against your sternum, his eyeliner-smudged gaze fixed on where you were joined—his cock sliding in and out of you in ragged, uncoordinated thrusts. "Fuck," he muttered, voice cracking like thin ice. "I'm not—fuck—I'm not gonna last."

Gerard’s hips stuttered against yours, his rhythm fracturing into uneven, desperate snaps as his breath came in ragged bursts against your throat. His fingers trembled where they gripped your thighs, blunt nails digging crescents into your skin—anchoring himself to you, to this moment, like you might vanish if he loosened his hold. "Fuck," he gasped, voice shattered, eyeliner smudged into dark streaks beneath his wild eyes. "You feel—fuck—you feel perfect." The words dripped from his lips like syrup, thick and clumsy, as he rutted into you with the frantic, graceless urgency of someone who'd waited too long.

Gerard's hips stuttered against yours with a final, desperate thrust—his entire body locking up as a broken whine tore from his throat. His fingers dug into your thighs hard enough to bruise, blunt nails biting crescents into your skin as he came deep inside you, hot and messy and completely unrestrained. His chest heaved against yours, sweat-slick and trembling, eyeliner smudged into dark streaks beneath his wild, glassy eyes. "Fuck," he gasped, voice cracking like cheap vinyl, his lips brushing your collarbone with each ragged exhale. "Fuck, fuck—"

He slumped forward, forehead pressed against your sternum as he fought to catch his breath, his hips still twitching weakly against yours. His fingers trembled where they gripped your hips—too tight, too desperate—like he was afraid you'd dissolve beneath him if he loosened his hold even slightly. His eyeliner-smudged gaze flickered down to where you were still joined, his spent cock softening inside you, his come dripping slowly out around him. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.

Gerard's breath hitched when your fingers twitched weakly against the mattress—not pushing him away, not pulling him closer, just there, limp and trembling like moth wings. He traced the delicate curve of your wrist with his fingertips, marveling at the way your pulse fluttered beneath his touch—slow, sluggish, but still there, still proof that you were alive beneath him. His lips brushed your inner wrist, tongue darting out to taste the salt on your skin. "Fuck," he whispered, voice rough as gravel. "You're so—" His fingers tightened around your wrist, thumb pressing into the delicate veins beneath your skin. "Perfect."

"Like a ghost in the snow," Gerard whispered against the damp hollow of your throat, his voice frayed at the edges like torn fabric. His breath hitched when you didn't respond—when your fingers stayed limp against the mattress, your pulse slow and syrupy under his lips. The words tasted like winter, like the static between radio stations, like the hush of a basement at 3 AM when the furnace clicks off and the world holds its breath. He'd read it somewhere—a poem scrawled in the margin of a library book, ink bleeding through the page—and now it clung to his tongue, desperate for purchase in the thick air between your bodies.

Morning light seeped through the basement's high, dusty windows in weak yellow streaks, painting the concrete floor in fractured rectangles. You blinked awake with a tongue that felt like wool and a skull full of wet cement. Your shirt—Gerard's shirt, you realized dimly—was buttoned crookedly, the collar askew where it dug into your throat. The waistband of your jeans pinched uncomfortably tight, the zipper only half-closed.

The mattress beside you was empty, still indented with the shape of Gerard's body. You reached out instinctively—fingers brushing the warm spot where he'd been—before curling them into the damp sheets. The basement hummed with silence, broken only by the distant rattle of pipes and the muffled sound of a car passing outside. No footsteps. No creaking floorboards. No Gerard.

You groaned, rubbing your temples as you dragged yourself up the basement stairs—each step sending a fresh wave of nausea rolling through your stomach. The kitchen light was blinding, harsh against your bleary eyes, and you squinted through the glare to see Gerard and Mikey hunched over the dining table, forks scraping against plates.

Mikey's head snapped up first, a piece of toast dangling from his mouth. His eyes widened. "Holy fuck," he mumbled around the bread, crumbs tumbling onto his Ramones t-shirt. "You look like you just got hit by a truck."

You scratched absently at your ribs—something felt off beneath your shirt, a dull ache that pulsed when you moved—before shuffling toward the sink. "Yeah, yeah, make fun of me," you muttered, voice still thick with sleep and something else, something syrupy. The glass clattered against the porcelain as you filled it too fast, water sloshing over your fingers. You gulped it down like you were trying to drown the taste of bile and cherry syrup still clinging to the back of your throat.

Mikey snorted into his cereal, milk dribbling down his chin. "Dude, you look like you got fucked by a poltergeist." His grin faltered when Gerard's fork screeched against his plate—a sound too sharp, too sudden—and his brother's knuckles went white around the utensil.

"Unlike you virgins, I had the best wet dream yesterday," you announced, slamming your glass down on the table hard enough to make Mikey's spoon rattle in his cereal. You dropped into the chair beside Gerard with a wince—your hips ached strangely, thighs sticky beneath your jeans—but the smirk stayed plastered on your face. "Dude had these fucking hands—like, knew exactly how to—"

Mikey groaned into his cereal bowl, the sound muffled by a mouthful of soggy marshmallows. "It's seven in the fucking morning," he grumbled, milk dripping off his chin as he gestured wildly with his spoon. "And not in front of my Lucky Charms, you deviant." The plastic leprechaun on the box seemed to judge you from its perch near the salt shaker, its painted grin suddenly sinister in the fluorescent kitchen light.

Gerard's knee nudged yours under the table—once, twice—the pressure deliberate against your thigh. You knew that signal. The one that meant lean in, I've got something without saying it aloud. You tilted toward him instinctively, catching the stale scent of his unwashed hair and last night's eyeliner before he whispered, "Told my mum the lasagna did a number on you." His breath hitched when your shoulder brushed his, knuckles whitening around his fork. "She said you should stay for a while."

You leaned closer, lips brushing Gerard's ear—his skin smelled like stale eyeliner and something metallic, sweat-damp at the temple. "Hmmm," you murmured, letting your breath hitch just enough to make him stiffen, "if only you let me talk about the wet dream I got yesterday."

Gerard snorted—too loud, too forced—his fingers twitching around his fork. "You know I always listen," he muttered, but his throat worked around the lie like it was barbed wire. His knee pressed harder against yours under the table, denim scraping denim with a sound like teeth grinding.

Your grin split your face wide enough to hurt—that same sharp, shit-eating smirk you'd perfected at fifteen, just to watch Gerard's ears turn pink. "Deal," you drawled, dragging the word out like taffy between your teeth, and his fork screeched against his plate again. The sound set your molars on edge, but the way his eyeliner-smudged gaze flickered to your mouth made it worth it.

But oh, how he wished you knew those ‘wet dreams’ were real—and that he was the man who was finally making you feel so fucking good.

its 3.20 am and is it normal for cats to snore bcos mine snore loud as fuck but yeah im tired goodnight everyone!!

[hanniewho]

ughh i just ate and now i feel sooooo sick and throwing up💔💔 but then i remembered gerard likes watching people throw up so now i have to write about basement gee getting hard watching you throw up but im a dirty fuck like that so im itching to write a dead dove instead of a normal fic.

decisions...decisions...

[hanniewho]

hey guys since ill be writing again what do you guys want me to write/looking forward for?

stuff that you guys want me to write

mcr stuff

tlou2

Resident Evil series

ghost of yotei

Voting ended onMar 18

or you guys can simply dm me!!

[hanniewho]

clarification of my writings

hi also I wanted to clarify that yes, I use grammarly because for backgrounds im Asian but I grew up in a household where we all speak English and I just turned 18 so— somemore i am a perfectionist so I really want my writings to be perfect but I am fully AGAINST use of ai. I am digital comic artist myself and a graphic designer. im trying my best to make my work perfect whether its my drawings or my writings🙏

im sorry that some of you think I use ai generated prompts or something but I can assure you all my writings are 100% mine and my thoughts that i wrote in my notes whenever im bored or have an idea popped in my head. though it might look like its not perfect/weird/odd its because I dont really write all of my stories in one seating.

but thank you all for staying with me and reading my rambles!!🤍🤍

[hanniewho]

HI EVERYONE IM BACK SORRY I HAVE TO TAKE A YEAR BREAK I WAS SO LOCKED IN FOR SCHOOL BUT NOW I HAVE GRADUATED YAYYY SO I WILL FINALLY POST AGAIN!!

[hanniewho]

⋆˚࿔I'll meet your eyes, I mean this forever 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ Summary: You're feeling insecure about your body, and Vi found out about it and helped you to feel loved and desired.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Notes: I should make a taglist so I could tag yall and I take the title from a song called demolition lovers. I love it sm bro oh and yes I switch the colors of my acc bcos why not

𐙚˙✧˖° Words: 6.1k

༘ ⋆｡ ˚ Warnings: Comfort sex, Cunnilungus (r receiving), Fingering (r receiving), Squirting, Body worshipping, Mention of porn, Using vibrator, Strap-on mentioned.

⋆✦ Pairings: Vi x Afab reader

You were standing in front of the full-length mirror in your shared bedroom, scrutinizing your reflection with a critical eye. The soft glow of the evening light cast a warm, comforting hue over your rounded curves and the way your favorite shirt clung gently to your frame. Your hand traced the line of your waist, pausing briefly to tug at the fabric that had grown snug over your belly. It wasn't something you dwelt on often, but tonight, you found yourself wishing you felt a bit more...desirable.

Vi, your girlfriend, barged in without knocking, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She had a knack for sensing your moods, and she could tell that something was on your mind. "What's up, cupcake?" she teased, tossing her headphones onto the bed.

You spun around, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. "It's nothing," you mumbled, trying to brush off your insecurity. But Vi knew you better than that. She stepped closer, her gaze softening as she took in the way you held yourself. "You know you're beautiful, right?" she said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Her touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce exterior she often presented to the world. "But I...I just don't look like the girls you usually go for," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You had always envied the lean, athletic figures that Vi was drawn to.

Vi's smile grew, a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes. "Is that what you think?" she asked, her hand sliding down to grip your waist. "You're perfect just the way you are," she murmured, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies. You could feel the warmth radiating from her, and your heart skipped a beat.

Her touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, making you acutely aware of every sensation. You looked up into her eyes, searching for any sign of mockery, but all you saw was sincerity and desire. For a moment, you just stood there, frozen, trying to process what was happening.

Then, before you could overthink it, you leaned into her embrace. Vi's arms tightened around you, and she kissed you, her lips pressing firmly against yours. It was a kiss that spoke of passion and longing, a kiss that told you she had felt this way for a long time. Your hands found their way to her back, exploring the muscles beneath her shirt as she deepened the kiss. You felt a strange mix of excitement and comfort, a feeling you hadn't experienced in a long time.

You broke away to catch your breath, staring at her in disbelief. "Does this mean..." you started, but Vi cut you off with another kiss, more urgent than the last. "It means I've wanted you for as long as I can remember," she murmured against your lips.

Her words sent a thrill through you, and you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. Vi's hands roamed over your body, tracing the contours of your hips and thighs. You felt a warmth spread through you, and suddenly, all your insecurities melted away. You were here, with Vi, and she wanted you.

The kiss grew more intense, your tongues tangling together as you explored the depths of each other's mouths. You could feel her excitement pressing into your stomach, and a matching heat began to build within you. Vi's hands began to unbutton your shirt, her touch growing more urgent. She peeled the fabric away, revealing the soft flesh beneath, and you shivered at the coolness of the air against your skin.

"Vi, wait," you managed to breathe, a hint of panic lacing your voice. You tried to cover yourself with your arms, suddenly aware of your vulnerability. But Vi just chuckled and gently pushed them aside, her eyes full of adoration. "You're so beautiful," she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "Don't hide from me."

Her words had a soothing effect, and you let your arms drop to your sides, allowing her to appreciate your body. Vi's gaze lingered on your chest, her pupils dilating as she took in the sight of your full breasts, the peaks of your nipples tight with anticipation. She reached out and cupped one gently, her thumb circling the sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You gasped, arching into her touch.

"Vi..." you whined, your voice thick with need. "I'm not..." but she didn't let you finish.

"Not what?" she asked, her voice low and seductive as she leaned down to kiss your neck, her breath hot against your skin. "Not skinny? Not fit?" She paused, her teeth grazing your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. "You're perfect to me."

With a gentle nudge, Vi pushed you towards the bed, her strong hands guiding you until you were lying back on the soft mattress. Your heart pounded in your chest as she hovered over you, her eyes never leaving yours. She trailed kisses down your chest, her tongue flicking out to taste the salty sweetness of your skin. You felt your body respond, your breasts growing heavier, your nipples hardening further as she approached them.

When her mouth finally closed around one, you couldn't help the moan that escaped you. The sensation was exquisite, her teeth grazing lightly as she suckled. You tangled your fingers in her short hair, pulling slightly as the pleasure grew more intense. Vi's other hand found its way to your other breast, teasing and caressing in time with her mouth's rhythm.

You felt your body come alive under her touch, every inch of your skin begging for more. "Vi," you whispered, "please..." and she seemed to understand what you needed without words. She kissed her way down your stomach, her tongue tracing the lines of your belly, pausing at your navel to swirl around the sensitive dip. Your stomach quivered in response, your body growing wet with anticipation.

When she reached the waistband of your pants, Vi looked up at you with a question in her eyes. You nodded, giving her the permission she sought. With a deft hand, she unbuttoned them, sliding them down your legs with a gentle insistence. You were now exposed before her, feeling more vulnerable than ever, but also more alive than you had in a very long time.

"Vi, no," you protested, trying to sit up, but she held your arm firmly. "I wanna make you feel good too." The determination in your voice was clear. You didn't just want to be the recipient of her affections; you wanted to give back, to show her that you weren't just taking but also capable of giving pleasure.

Vi chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, cupcake," she said, her voice dropping to a low purr, "I want you to lay back and take what I give you. I want to show you how pretty you are." She pushed you gently down onto the bed, and you felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation.

Her hands moved to the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly, inch by inch, her gaze never leaving yours. "Now spread those pretty legs for me, yeah?" she instructed, her voice a soft growl. You complied, feeling a thrill run through you as the cool air hit your exposed skin.

Vi's eyes raked over your thighs, her gaze lingering on the stretch marks that crisscrossed your skin, reminders of the battles your body had endured. But instead of seeing them as flaws, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to one, then another, trailing her lips over each line as if they were the most precious of treasures. The tender gesture brought tears to your eyes, and you felt a weight lift from your chest.

Her thumbs spread your legs wider, exposing your most intimate parts to her hungry gaze. You felt a blush creep up your neck, but Vi didn't seem to care about any of the things you were so self-conscious about. Her eyes were filled with a fiery passion that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. "You're so wet for me," she murmured, her voice thick with lust.

With a grin that was both playful and predatory, she leaned in and kissed your folds, her tongue darting out to taste your arousal. "Mmm," she hummed, "I wonder how gorgeous you're gonna look when you squirt." The thought sent a bolt of excitement through you, and your body responded with a jolt, your hips bucking upward. Vi chuckled, her breath hot against your skin.

Her mouth closed around your clit, her teeth grazing the sensitive nub as she began to suck, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You bit your lip to keep from screaming, your hands clutching at the bedcovers. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. You had never felt this way before, so utterly consumed by desire.

Vi looked up at you, her eyes dark with lust, and murmured, "Let it out, baby, I wanna hear you." The sound of her voice, so confident and commanding, gave you the push you needed. You let go of the last of your inhibitions, arching your back and crying out as she worked her magic.

Her mouth was a masterpiece of pleasure, her tongue circling and flicking against your clit with an expertise that left you gasping for air. You felt the pressure building, your body coiling tighter and tighter with every passing second. Your eyes squeezed shut as you focused on the sensations, trying to hold on just a little longer, to savor every moment of this exquisite torment.

But the dam broke, and you shuddered, your thighs clamping around Vi's head as your orgasm washed over you. She didn't relent, continuing her ministrations as your body spasmed, riding the waves of pleasure until you collapsed, boneless, onto the bed.

Breathing heavily, you opened your eyes to find Vi looking up at you with a smug smile. "See?" she said, her voice smoky and satisfied. "Perfect."

You couldn't argue with that. Your body felt like it had been rewired, every nerve ending pulsing with new life. You watched as she licked her lips, tasting you, and the sight of it was almost too much to handle. Your thighs, which had been squeezing her head, relaxed, allowing her to sit up. She leaned over you, placing a gentle kiss on your belly, making you squirm with the lingering aftershocks of your climax.

"Hey, cupcake?" Vi asked, her voice a smoky purr that sent shivers down your spine. "Can I ask you a favor?" She had moved up the bed and was now straddling one of your legs, her weight pressing down on your thigh in a way that was both comforting and exciting.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "Anything," you managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Vi's grin grew even wider, and she scooted back on the bed, laying down and patting her face with her hands. "Sit on my face, pretty girl," she said, her voice low and filled with want.

You stared at her, your own desire battling with your shock and confusion. But the heat in her eyes was undeniable, and you felt your body respond, eager to explore this new side of your relationship. With trembling legs, you straddled her face, feeling the warmth of her breath on your inner thighs. You took a deep breath and lowered yourself onto her, her nose nestling in your folds.

Vi's mouth wasted no time, her tongue sliding over your swollen clit with a hunger that took you by surprise. You threw your head back and moaned, the sensation of her tongue lapping at you making you feel like you were floating. Her hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, urging you closer as she devoured you with a ferocity that was both thrilling and a little scary.

"Vi, no..." you whined, trying to push yourself up, but she was having none of it. Her arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you in place as her mouth worked its magic. You could feel yourself growing wetter with every flick of her tongue, and the sound of her smacking against your skin filled the room, making your face burn with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment.

Vi looked up at you, her eyes glazed with desire, and she pulled you down harder, forcing your plump cheeks to engulf her face completely. "Shh," she murmured against your flesh, her voice muffled but clear. "Just let me make you feel good." And with that, she buried her nose in your folds, inhaling deeply.

The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but let out a moan, the vibrations echoing through your core. Vi's tongue began to explore you, tracing the length of your slit before delving deeper, tasting every part of you. You felt her teeth graze your clit, sending a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. "More," you moaned, your hips rocking gently against her face.

Her grip on your thighs tightened as she complied, her tongue swirling around your clit with a relentless rhythm that had you panting for breath. Your hands found their way to her hair, gripping tight as she worked you closer to the edge. The room was filled with the sound of your gasps and the wet noises of her mouth on your skin. It was carnally erotic, a symphony of passion that had your toes curling with every stroke.

Vi's tongue delved deeper, penetrating you with a gentle ease that made you realize just how much she knew your body. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment, studying every curve and dip, every spot that made you shiver with pleasure. You felt her teeth graze the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. The mix of pleasure and pain was intoxicating, a heady cocktail that had your hips grinding against her face.

Her tongue found your G-spot, the slick muscle that sent bolts of ecstasy through your body. She flicked it, the sensation setting your nerves alight, making you tremble uncontrollably. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension in your belly tightening like a coil about to spring. "Vi, I'm...I'm going to...oh God," you panted, your voice shaking with need.

Vi's only response was to double her efforts, her tongue curling against that magical spot with a fervor that left you breathless. You felt yourself begin to spasm, your orgasm building like a crescendo. With a final, desperate cry, you shuddered, your body giving in to the waves of pleasure that washed over you. Vi's mouth remained on you, her tongue lapping up every drop of your release as if it was the sweetest nectar she had ever tasted.

Finally, she pulled away, her face glistening with your arousal. She licked her lips, a contented look in her eyes. "Mmm," she murmured, "you taste like heaven." The words sent a warm flush through you, making you feel more desired than you ever had before. You slumped down onto the bed, your legs quivering with the aftermath of your climax.

Vi climbed over you, her body straddling yours, and you could feel the warmth of her against your sensitive skin. She leaned down and captured your mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, sharing the taste of your passion with you. Her hands roamed over your curves, exploring every inch of your body as if it was a map she had been dying to uncover.

Her palms slid up your sides, cupping your breasts and kneading them gently, her thumbs circling your nipples until they were pebble-hard. You moaned into her mouth, the sensation of her touch sending shivers down your spine. Her hips rocked against yours, and you felt her own desire, her need pressing into you insistently.

Breaking the kiss, Vi reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head to reveal the taut muscles of her stomach and the firm mounds of her breasts. You couldn't help but stare, the sight of her bare skin making your heart race. "Like what you see?" she teased, her voice thick with desire.

You nodded, unable to form words as you took in the sight of her. Vi's body was a masterpiece of strength and power, a stark contrast to your softness. But in this moment, you didn't feel any less desirable. In fact, you felt more so, knowing that she wanted you just as much as you wanted her.

With trembling hands, you reached up to trace the lines of her abs, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips. Vi's skin was hot to the touch, and she moaned as you touched her. You felt a thrill of power, knowing that you could affect her so deeply. Your hands moved to the button of her pants, and you fumbled with the clasp, eager to feel more of her.

But she had other ideas. With surprising gentleness, she pushed your hand away. "Relax, cupcake," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Just lay down and enjoy the view." You obeyed, your body feeling heavy with need as you laid back on the pillows. Vi took your wrists in her hands, her grip firm but not unkind, and placed them above your head.

Her eyes never left yours as she unbuckled her pants, the sound of the zipper echoing through the room. She slid them off, revealing her own arousal, and you felt your own desire spike in response. She was so confident, so sure of herself, and it was incredibly arousing. She climbed back over you, her legs straddling your hips, and you couldn't help but stare at her.

Her pubic hair was a soft, downy mess against your skin, tickling you in the most sensitive of places, making you squirm with delight. It was a stark contrast to the bare, waxed girls you had seen in magazines and porn, and you found yourself fascinated by the way it felt. It was real, it was hers, and it was incredibly sexy.

Vi began to grind her pussy against yours, her clit rubbing against your own in a slow, deliberate motion that had your eyes rolling back in your head. The feeling was exquisite, a new form of pleasure that you hadn't experienced before. It was intimate and raw, and you felt a connection to her that went beyond just physical attraction.

Her hand slid down to your clit, her thumb pressing against it in time with her movements. You bucked your hips up, trying to increase the friction, and she chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Greedy," she murmured, her voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. She increased her pace, the slick sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.

Your breathing grew ragged as the pressure built, your eyes locked on hers. You could see the desire in them, the hunger for more, and it only served to drive you closer to the edge. Her free hand trailed up your body, her fingers dancing over your skin before finding your right nipple. She pinched it lightly, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, the sensation making you gasp.

Vi's movements grew more urgent, her hips moving faster as she rubbed against you. The heat between your legs was stifling, the scent of your arousal heavy in the air. You felt your body responding, your own wetness slick against her thighs, a testament to how much you wanted her. "Vi," you whimpered, your voice needy and desperate.

"Come for me, cupcake," she whispered, her eyes locked on yours. "I wanna see that pretty face of yours when you cum." Her words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, and you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your hands clenched the bedcovers, your knuckles white with the effort of holding back.

But the anticipation was too much, and with a final grind against her, you shattered. Your back arched, your eyes squeezed shut as pleasure washed over you in waves. Vi watched with a satisfied smile as your face contorted with ecstasy, her own desire growing with every whimper and gasp that escaped your lips.

"Yeah, like that, baby," she cooed, her voice thick with lust. "Oh, you're so pretty when you cum." The sound of her praise sent a warm glow through you, and you felt a newfound confidence in your body, in your ability to give and receive pleasure.

As the last of your orgasm subsided, Vi leaned down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss, sharing the taste of your arousal. Her tongue danced with yours, her body still moving against yours in a slow, sensual rhythm. You could feel her own need, the heat and wetness of her pussy grinding against yours, and it only served to stoke the fires of your desire once more.

Her hand slid from your wrists to your waist, her fingers digging into your flesh as she pulled herself closer. You felt the weight of her breasts pressing into your chest, the feeling sending a fresh jolt of pleasure through you. Your hands moved to her hips, holding her in place as she continued to rock against you.

"Vi," you whined, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion, "I just came-" But she didn't stop, her own hips bucking harder, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I know, baby," she murmured against your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. "But I need to feel you cum again."

With a wicked grin, she leaned down to whisper in your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "I will fuck you until you feel pretty," she said, her voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. "You got that, cupcake?" The promise in her words was like a drug, and you found yourself nodding, eager for more.

Vi's smile grew wider as she pecked the tip of your nose, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Good girl," she murmured, her voice a gentle caress. It was a simple act, one that was filled with affection and ownership, a silent declaration of her intent to cherish every part of you. It sent a thrill through your body, making you feel more alive than you ever had before.

Her movements grew more deliberate, her hips grinding against you in a rhythm that matched the beating of your heart. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every stroke, your body begging for more of her touch. "Please, Vi," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea.

Vi's smile grew wider as she leaned down, her eyes locked on yours. "Tell me what you want," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr that made you quiver. "Say it, baby."

You took a deep breath, feeling a blush creep over your cheeks. "I want...I want you to...to fuck me," you finally managed to say, the words feeling strange and powerful on your lips.

Vi's eyes darkened, and she gave you a predatory smile. "With what?" she asked, her voice a low rumble.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "With your...strap-on," you whispered, feeling a thrill of excitement and nerves.

Vi's smile grew even wider, if that was possible, and she leaned down to cup your face in her strong hands. "Baby," she murmured, her thumbs tracing over your cheekbones, "today, I just wanna worship you, not rearrange your organs. You deserve that, don't you?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. "But, Vi," you protested weakly, "I want you to feel good, too."

Vi's smile softened, and she leaned in to kiss you tenderly. "Trust me, I am," she murmured against your lips. "But tonight, it's all about you."

With surprising grace, she climbed off you, moving to the side of the bed. She rummaged through the nightstand drawer, her eyes glinting with excitement as she pulled out a velvety pouch. She turned to face you, holding it out like a treasure. "Let's see what we have here," she said, her voice filled with a playful tone.

You watched with bated breath as she unzipped the pouch, revealing an impressive collection of sex toys. Your eyes widened at the sight, a mix of curiosity and nerves swirling in your stomach. Vi noticed your expression and chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't worry, cupcake," she said, "I've got just the right thing for you."

Her hand hovered over the collection before finally settling on a sleek, pink vibrator. "This one's my favorite," she murmured, turning it on. The buzzing filled the room, sending a shiver down your spine. She brought it closer to your ear, and you felt the vibrations tickle your skin. "It's got different settings," she explained, "so we can find one that makes you scream."

Vi positioned the toy at your entrance, her eyes never leaving yours. She slid it in gently, watching as your eyes widened with shock and pleasure. The vibrations were intense, sending waves of pleasure through you that made your toes curl. She began to move it in and out, the sensation making you feel like you were floating on a cloud of bliss.

"Is that good, baby?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern. You nodded, unable to form coherent words as she hit a spot inside you that made your vision swim. She twisted the vibrator, the sensations changing, and you gasped, your body tensing with the newfound ecstasy.

"Vi, mmmm, more," you whined, your voice needy and desperate. She chuckled, the sound sending another tremor through you. "Greedy little thing," she murmured, her thumb circling your clit as she pumped the toy in and out of you.

The vibrations grew stronger, and you felt your body responding, your hips lifting off the bed to meet each thrust. Vi's eyes never left yours, watching you intently as she worked the toy, her other hand playing with your breasts. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt your second climax approaching like a freight train.

With a gentle touch, she placed a hand on your plump stomach, pushing you back down onto the bed. "Ah, ah, ah, relax, cupcake," she cooed, her voice a sweet symphony of reassurance. You took a deep breath, feeling the mattress conform to your body as you allowed yourself to be held in place by her firm grip. Her fingers traced lazy circles over your belly, sending shivers through your body.

Vi's eyes never left yours as she continued to manipulate the vibrator, her thumb now playing with the sensitive bundle of nerves at your center. You could feel your orgasm building again, the pressure in your belly growing tighter with each pulse of the toy. "Vi, I...I think I'm gonna-" you began, but she shushed you, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

Without warning, she leaned down, her mouth capturing one of your nipples. She sucked hard, the sensation making you gasp as she rolled the other between her thumb and forefinger. "Cum for me, cupcake," she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. "Let me feel you tighten around my toy."

Her words sent a fresh wave of desire crashing over you, and you felt your pussy clench around the vibrator in response. Vi's eyes grew darker, her movements more urgent as she watched your body react to her commands. She switched to the other nipple, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, making you arch your back.

"Vi, oh God, it's...it's too much," you moaned, your body on the brink of ecstasy. She chuckled, the vibrations increasing in intensity. "It's never too much, baby," she murmured, her eyes never leaving yours. "You can take it, I know you can."

Her words were like a command, and your body responded with a fervor that surprised even you. You felt the orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to consume you whole. Vi's hand worked in tandem with the toy, her thumb pressing down on your clit as the vibrations grew stronger. The combination was exquisite torture, and you couldn't help but moan louder, the sound echoing through the room.

The tension grew, coiling tighter and tighter until it was a live wire, ready to snap. Then, with a cry that was half-moan, half-scream, you came, your body spasming around the vibrator. Vi's eyes never left yours, watching with a look of pure satisfaction as your climax washed over you. The vibrator remained inside you, the sensations too much to handle, but you didn't ask her to stop. Instead, you clung to the edge of the bed, your knuckles white as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

Vi's movements grew more deliberate, her hand pumping the toy in and out of you with a rhythm that was almost mesmerizing. She switched the setting again, and the vibrations grew more intense, making you squirm under her touch. "Do you like that?" she murmured, her voice a gentle purr that only added to the eroticism of the moment.

You nodded, unable to speak as the pleasure grew. "Mm-hmm," you managed to get out, your voice barely a whisper. Vi chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Good girl," she praised, her thumb pressing harder against your clit. "You're doing so well."

Her hand moved the vibrator in a slow, deliberate pattern, the varying speeds and intensities making you feel like you were on the verge of a third orgasm. It was as if she was conducting your body's symphony of pleasure, and you were the instrument she played masterfully. Each pulse of the toy sent waves of ecstasy crashing over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Vi leaned down to whisper in your ear, her hot breath sending shivers down your neck. "I want you to cum again, baby," she urged, her voice a seductive growl that sent a fresh jolt of arousal through your core. You nodded, eager to please her, eager for the next peak of pleasure. She increased the vibrations once more, the buzzing growing louder, more insistent.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as the sensations grew, the vibrator filling you completely, the vibrations resonating through your entire being. Vi's thumb never left your clit, the constant pressure driving you wild with need. You felt your body tense, the coil of pleasure in your belly tightening once again.

"Vi, I'm...I'm gonna...oh, please," you panted, your voice a desperate plea. Vi's grip on the vibrator grew firmer, her eyes locked on your face as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge. "Cum for me, cupcake," she whispered, her voice a seductive promise. "Let go."

With a final, almost painful twist of the vibrator, your body obeyed, your muscles spasming around the toy as a gush of wetness spurted from your pussy. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt before, a sudden release that took you by surprise. Vi gasped as the warm fluid hit her face, her eyes going wide before she leaned back to watch the show, her mouth hanging open.

Tears streamed down your face, a mix of pleasure and pain as your body shuddered through the most intense orgasm of your life. Vi looked shocked, her eyes wide with amazement as she took in the sight of your face, contorted in ecstasy. She gently slid the vibrator out of you, setting it aside with trembling hands. The sudden absence of the intense vibrations left you feeling empty, but the pleasure still lingered, like an aftershock following an earthquake.

Vi leaned over, her eyes filled with concern as she studied your reaction. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle. You nodded, unable to find the words to describe the whirlwind of sensations that had just swept through you. She kissed you softly, her tongue tracing the contours of your mouth as you both caught your breath.

When the tremors had subsided, she pulled back, her eyes searching yours. "Was that...was that okay?" she asked, her voice filled with a vulnerability you hadn't heard from her before. You managed to give her a weak smile, the corners of your eyes still glistening with tears. "More than okay," you murmured, your voice hoarse.

Her expression softened, and she leaned down to kiss away your tears. Her touch was gentle, tender, as if you were made of the most fragile glass. You felt yourself melt into the kiss, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure. When she pulled away, she looked at you with something akin to awe. "You're so beautiful," she whispered, her thumbs tracing the curve of your cheekbones.

Vi's eyes roamed over your flushed body, taking in every detail of your curvy form. She leaned back, her hands sliding down to caress the soft flesh of your stomach. "You're perfect," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "So fucking perfect."

You felt your cheeks heat up, a mix of pride and disbelief at her words. "I'm not," you protested weakly, but she silenced you with a kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. "You're mine, cupcake," she whispered against your lips, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. "All of you."

Her strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the warmth of her chest. You felt the steady beat of her heart against yours, the reassurance of her embrace seeping into your very soul. "I'll be damned if you say you're not pretty enough," she murmured, her voice a gentle rumble that made you melt into her. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Her words washed over you like a warm wave, filling you with a sense of belonging and acceptance you had never experienced before. Vi's confidence in your beauty was intoxicating, and you found yourself believing her. You allowed her to pull you closer, her fingers tracing patterns on your back as she kissed the top of your head.

Her hand moved lower, her palm cupping your ass, squeezing gently. "You know, I've always had a thing for a nice, round ass," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper. You blushed, but instead of pulling away, you pushed back into her touch, feeling a thrill of desire at her words. It was as if she had found the key to unlock every inch of your body, making you crave her touch in ways you had never thought possible.

Vi's fingers began to knead, her touch firm and sure as she explored the softness of your curves. She leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. "And next time," she said, her voice a promise, "I'll use the strap-on you like so much." The thought sent a bolt of arousal through you, and you couldn't help but moan at the thought. You felt a rush of wetness between your legs, your body already eager for the next round of pleasure she would give you.

Vi chuckled at your reaction, her grip tightening on your ass. "But for now," she said, her voice a gentle command, "I just want to hold you." You nodded, feeling the warmth of her body enveloping you. It was strange, but you felt more connected to her than you had ever felt to anyone else. Her acceptance of your body, her worship of it, had broken down the walls of self-consciousness that had plagued you for so long.

Her hands began to roam again, her fingers dancing over your skin as if it were the strings of a finely tuned instrument. She traced the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts. Each touch was a declaration of love, a silent promise to cherish and adore every inch of you. You felt yourself growing more and more relaxed, your body responding to her tender ministrations.

Vi leaned in, her breath warm against your cheek, and whispered, "I love you, cupcake." Her words were like a balm to your soul, soothing the ache of insecurity that had lingered there. You turned your head, your eyes meeting hers, and she captured your mouth in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of love and passion, a promise that she would never let you doubt your beauty again.

[hanniewho]

What are your guys' thoughts if I write vi as your sugar mommy and you're a spoiled brat and she had to put you in your place

[hanniewho]

⋆˚࿔ Vivid Dreams𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ Summary: You told your roommate about your vivid dreams, but now you don't think it's a dream anymore.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Notes: I'm sorry for not posting for a few days. I got caught up with my graphic design project, and I had to walk around the city to take pictures, and my feet are killing me. I'll answer some of you guys' request ASAP 🙏

𐙚˙✧˖° Words: 6.0k

༘ ⋆｡ ˚ Warnings: Noncon, Creampie, Overstimulating, Fingering, Degrading, Name calling (slut), P in V, Squirting, Slapping, Slight choking in you squint, Manipulation, Telling her that you love her as she fuck you w/o your consent, Porn mentioned, Spitting. (Lmk if I miss anything :3)

⋆✦ Pairings:Pitfighter g!p Vi x Afab reader and a bit of jinx(your roomie)

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

"You know, I've had the strangest dream again," you murmured, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your roommate, Jinx, barely glanced up from her book, a non-committal "Mm-hmm" her only response as she flipped a page.

"It's always the same, you know? This...this woman with the most piercing eyes I've ever seen. She's powerful, dangerous even. And she keeps telling me things I don't understand." You paused, watching Jinx's reaction, hoping for something, anything that suggested she was actually listening. But her gaze remained glued to the book in front of her.

"Jinx, are you even listening to me?" you sighed, a hint of frustration tinting your voice.

Your roommate, Jinx, looked up from her book with a sheepish grin, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Huh? Oh, sorry, I zoned out for a sec. What were you saying?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but return the smile. "It's fine," you said, standing up from your bed. "It's probably just my mind playing tricks on me anyway." You walked over to the small kitchenette and began rummaging through the cabinets for a snack to curb the early morning hunger pangs. The apartment was silent except for the faint rustle of pages turning as Jinx went back to her book.

As you pulled out a box of crackers, she looked up, suddenly alert. "Oh, uh, hey, have you had someone over last night?" she asked, her tone casual but the curiosity in her eyes unmistakable.

You froze mid-reach, crackers in hand, and turned to face her. "What? No, why?"

Jinx's cheeks flushed a vibrant shade of red as she hastily closed her book. "Well, uh, it's going to be awkward, but last night when I was fixing my gun, I heard some... sounds coming from your room." She paused, searching for the right words, then blurted out, "It sounded like you were having sex, or I- ARE YOU WATCHING PORN?" The accusation hung in the air, awkwardness thickening like smoke in a closed room.

You stared at her, crackers forgotten in your hand. "What? No, I was just sleeping!" you protested, feeling your own cheeks grow hot. "What makes you think that?"

Jinx bit her lip, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. "Well, it's not every night I hear someone going 'plap, plap, plap' in there," she said, mimicking the sound with a teasing smirk. "It's like someone's slapping a fish around or something."

You furrowed your brows, utterly confused by her accusation. "Jinx, I was alone. I swear," you said, your voice firm. "It's probably just the pipes or something." But even as you said it, doubt began to creep in. The dream had felt so real, so vivid. Could it be more than just your subconscious playing tricks on you?

Jinx's smirk faltered, and she leaned back in her chair, eyeing you skeptically. "You sure?" she pressed, her curiosity not quite satisfied.

You nodded, setting the crackers on the counter. "Positive," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. "I was just sleeping." But the memory of the dream washed over you again, the feeling of fullness and the sound of your own voice crying out in pleasure echoing in your mind. It had been so intense, so real, that you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just a vivid fantasy.

Jinx leaned back in her chair, her curiosity piqued. She tapped her chin with a finger, her eyes drifting off into the distance as if piecing together a puzzle. "So, about your dreams," she began, pausing to gauge your reaction. "What really happened?"

You turned to face her, the memory of the dream still lingering in your mind. The woman from your dream, her eyes so intense and filled with passion, had felt so real. "It's nothing," you replied, trying to brush it off, but your voice betrayed you, shaky and uncertain.

Jinx's eyes searched yours, and she leaned forward, placing her book aside. "Look, if something's going on, you can tell me," she said gently. "You know I'm not going to judge."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the secret pressing down on you. "It's just...it's so weird. In the dream, she was...doing things to me," you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. "And it didn't feel wrong, or scary. It just felt...good."

Jinx's gaze softened, and she reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Dreams are just that - dreams," she assured you, her voice soothing. "But if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you."

You took a deep breath, weighing your options. You hadn't told anyone about the dreams, not even your closest friends. But there was something about Jinx that made you feel like you could trust her with the darkest of your secrets. So, you decided to take a risk and opened up. You recounted the dream in detail, the way the mysterious woman had taken you in her arms, the sound of her breath against your neck, the feeling of her hips grinding against yours. Jinx's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't interrupt, just nodded along, listening intently.

When you finished, you felt both relieved and embarrassed. You avoided eye contact, focusing instead on the crackers you hadn't realized you were still holding. "It's just so... intense," you murmured, fidgeting with the box. "I don't even know who she is, and yet she's all I can think about."

Jinx was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then she leaned in, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Well, what does she look like?" she asked, a playful lilt to her voice.

You described the woman from your dream: her short, spiky hair, the muscular physique that spoke of strength and agility, and the piercing gaze that had you feeling both vulnerable and safe. As you talked, Jinx's expression grew thoughtful. "Hmm," she murmured, her eyes lighting up with an idea. "I might know someone who fits that description."

Her words sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you turned to face her fully. "What? Who?"

Jinx's grin grew wider as she leaned back in her chair. "My sister," she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Vi. She's got that same look in her eyes when she's... concentrating. And she's definitely got the moves."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Vi. The woman from your dreams had the same name as Jinx's sister? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? "Vi?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Your sister?"

Jinx nodded, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Yeah, you know, the one who's always breaking down doors and causing a ruckus?"

You felt your cheeks flush hotter. "I-I don't know what to say."

Jinx leaned forward, her grin morphing into a smug smirk. "Well, if you're that interested, I might be able to arrange a meeting."

You stared at her, your heart racing. "What? No, I didn't mean..." You trailed off, your thoughts tangling in a mess of excitement and anxiety. "It's just that the dreams are so intense," you protested weakly.

Jinx's smirk grew knowing. "Intense, huh?" she said, her tone teasing. "Well, if you're ever curious about the real deal, you know where to find her. But maybe you should tell her you're a fan first."

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "I don't know if I could handle that. Besides, it's just a dream," you said, trying to convince yourself more than anything. But the way Jinx's eyes gleamed with mischief had you wondering if there was more to the story.

Jinx shrugged, picking her book back up. "Suit yourself," she said, her tone light. "But if you ever change your mind, just let me know."

The rest of the day was a blur. You couldn't concentrate on your classes or your studies, your mind a tumult of thoughts and sensations from the dream. Was it possible that Vi, the woman from your dreams, was actually Jinx's sister? And if so, what did that mean? Was your subconscious playing a cruel trick on you, or was there some deeper connection at play?

That evening, as you lay in bed trying to fall asleep, the memory of Vi's powerful embrace consumed you. You felt the ache between your legs, the same ache that had been present every time you woke up from the dream. It was maddening, and yet you couldn't ignore it. The desire grew stronger, and before you knew it, your hand was moving under the covers, exploring the wetness that had gathered there.

You opened your eyes to the darkness of your room, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears. The dream had been so vivid, you could almost feel the weight of Vi's body on top of you, her strong thighs pressing into yours as she moved in a rhythm that was both fierce and tender. The sensation grew more intense with each passing moment, your hips bucking against the pressure of your hand.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with light, and you gasped as the figure from your dreams leaned down and kissed you hard. "Oh fuck, you're awake," she murmured against your lips, her voice a gruff whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. It was Vi, just as you had imagined, her short hair a wild mess around her face, her eyes glinting with a mix of surprise and desire.

You stared up at her, heart pounding in your chest. This couldn't be real, could it? You tried to speak, to ask what was happening, but all that came out was a strangled sound. Vi pulled back, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "You okay?" she asked, her voice softer now.

You nodded, still unable to form coherent words. She was really here, in your room, her body pressing down on yours, her cock still inside you. You felt a mix of fear and excitement, unsure how to react.

Vi studied you for a moment before a slow, knowing smile spread across her face. "I see," she murmured, her eyes darkening. "You liked it, didn't you?"

Your body seemed to respond of its own accord, your hips moving slightly, the friction of her cock still buried inside you sending waves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't deny it, not with the evidence of your own arousal so clear. "I-I don't know," you stuttered, but the words lacked conviction.

Vi leaned closer, her breath warm against your cheek. "Lie to me again, and I'll make sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow," she whispered, a hint of a threat in her voice that only served to excite you further. Her hand slid down your body, cupping your ass and squeezing gently. You gasped, your eyes widening with surprise.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks - this wasn't a dream. This was really happening. You felt the weight of her body pressing down on you, the solidity of her cock still embedded deep inside you. The smell of sweat and sex filled the air, and you could feel your own wetness mixing with hers.

Vi took your silence as consent, her smile growing more wicked. "Good," she murmured, and began to move again, her hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as she filled you up, the sensation of being claimed by someone so strong and dominant overwhelming.

Her hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and crevice with a hunger that was palpable. Each touch sent sparks of electricity through your nerves, making you squirm and gasp beneath her. You felt vulnerable and exposed, but instead of fear, a heady mix of desire and excitement took over.

Vi's eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze stealing your breath away. "You're so fucking beautiful," she murmured, her voice a gravelly growl that resonated deep within you. The way she said it, it didn't feel like a lie or a line; it felt like a truth she had discovered and couldn't help but voice.

Your body responded to her words, your muscles tightening around her cock. She groaned, her grip on your hips tightening as she pushed deeper, her movements becoming more urgent. You felt a thrill of power, knowing that you had this effect on her, this powerful, almost mythic figure from your dreams.

Her hand slid up your body to cup your breast, her thumb flicking over your nipple. You arched into the touch, the pleasure shooting straight to your core. Vi's eyes never left yours, watching your every reaction with a hunger that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

As she picked up the pace, you felt your orgasm building, the pressure growing with each thrust. You bit your bottom lip to keep from screaming, the intensity of the sensations threatening to overwhelm you. You could feel her own need, the tension in her body as she held back, drawing out the moment.

Your hands clutched at the bedsheets, your nails digging into the fabric as you tried to anchor yourself to reality. But it was no use; you were lost in the haze of pleasure that Vi was creating. Her movements grew more erratic, her breathing ragged as she approached her climax.

You felt your own orgasm building, the tension coiling tightly in your stomach. You didn't know if you could handle this, didn't know if you wanted to. But your body had a mind of its own, responding to her touch like it had been starved for it.

Her hand slid down to the juncture of your thighs, her fingers finding your clit and beginning to rub it in a rhythm that matched the pounding of her cock. You gasped, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure grew too intense to bear. You could feel your muscles clench around her, desperately trying to hold onto the sensation, to keep her inside you forever.

Vi's movements grew more frenzied, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck," she muttered, her voice strained. "You're so tight, so wet." The words only served to fuel your desire, and you found yourself bucking your hips up to meet her thrusts, your body begging for more.

The sound of your skin slapping against hers filled the room, a cacophony of pleasure that seemed to resonate in your very bones. You could feel your orgasm approaching, a storm of sensation building inside you, ready to break.

Vi's hand on your clit was like a masterful conductor, guiding you closer and closer to the edge. Each stroke was precise, each touch a masterpiece of pleasure that had your toes curling and your back arching. Her teeth grazed your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and you knew you were moments away from the most powerful climax of your life.

Your body tensed, muscles coiling like a spring ready to release. With one final, deep thrust, Vi sent you over the edge, and you screamed out her name, the sound muffled by the pillow you had shoved into your mouth to stifle the noise. The pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing around her, clenching her cock like a vice.

Vi's own orgasm followed closely behind, her hips bucking wildly as she filled you with her release. You could feel the heat of her seed inside you, a strange, primal sensation that only added to the intensity of the moment. Her breathing was harsh and ragged in your ear, and you realized with a start that she was whispering your name, her voice filled with a raw emotion that didn't quite match the cold, calculating demeanor she usually had.

As your body began to relax, she leaned back, her eyes never leaving yours. With a sudden movement, she pulled out of you, making you gasp with the sudden emptiness. Before you could react, she brought her hand down in a harsh slap across your pussy, the sound echoing in the silent room. Your eyes snapped open, and you jolted at the unexpected pain and pleasure that shot through you.

Vi smirked, watching the shock play out across your face. "You liked that, didn't you?" she taunted, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

Her hand hovered over your sensitive flesh, and you held your breath, waiting for the next slap. "I said, did you like it?" she pressed, her voice low and demanding.

You nodded, unable to form the words. The sting of her hand had sent a jolt of pleasure through you that was almost unbearable. You felt your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and desire.

"So, you liked that, huh?" Vi's smirk grew wider as she watched you squirm beneath her. She slapped your pussy once more, this time a bit harder, and you gasped aloud. "You're going to get used to this," she murmured, her voice a dark promise. "Being used like a cumdump by a girl you never even knew existed."

Your eyes watered from the pain, but the ache between your legs grew stronger. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, knowing that she had taken you without your consent but finding yourself desperate for more. "Vi," you whimpered, not knowing what else to say.

"That's right," she said, her voice low and smoky. "Call me by name, let me know who owns you now." Her hand moved to grip your jaw, tilting your head up to look at her. "Open your mouth, pretty girl," she ordered, her eyes gleaming with a dark excitement.

You obeyed, your mouth opening slightly, unsure of what was to come. Vi leaned down, her spit glistening in the soft light of the moon filtering through the curtains. With a flick of her tongue, she sent a wad of saliva into your mouth, watching as you closed your lips around it. The taste was surprisingly warm, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Swallow," she demanded, her grip on your chin firm. You did as you were told, the act strangely intimate and degrading all at once. Her saliva slid down your throat, leaving a trail of wetness that seemed to echo the wetness between your legs. Vi's eyes never left yours, her gaze a mix of challenge and triumph.

The reality of what had just happened began to sink in. You had been taken by your roommate's sister, a woman you had only ever dreamt about, while you were unconscious. It was a violation, a betrayal, and yet your body sang with satisfaction. You were torn between anger and a desperate need for more.

Vi leaned down, her breath hot against your ear. "You want me to stop?" she whispered, her voice a dark caress. You hesitated, the words on the tip of your tongue, but the truth was that you didn't. You were scared, yes, but also unbearably turned on. You bit your lip and shook your head, and Vi's grip tightened. "Good," she murmured, her teeth grazing your earlobe. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

With that, she slammed back into you, her cock filling you completely. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling of being stretched to your limits sending shivers down your spine. Your nails dug into the bedsheets as she began to fuck you with a ferocity that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room.

Your thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and lust. You had never experienced anything like this before, and yet you found yourself craving it, your body moving in time with hers as if you had been doing this for years. You felt like a ragdoll in her powerful grip, utterly at her mercy.

Vi's hips ground into you, her movements unrelenting as she claimed your body over and over again. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your core, making your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to process the sensations, but all you could do was feel. Feel her, inside you, dominating you.

Her hand found your throat, her thumb pressing against your pulse. "Look at me," she whispered, her voice a hoarse demand. You opened your eyes, meeting her intense gaze as she continued to fuck you, her thumb moving in slow, deliberate circles against your skin. The intimacy of the gesture was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the roughness of her movements.

The pleasure grew, a crescendo of sensation that you couldn't fight. You felt the beginnings of another orgasm building, and you whimpered, your body desperately seeking release. Vi's eyes never left yours as she drove you closer to the edge, her own breathing growing heavier, her strokes more erratic.

Her thumb pressed harder against your throat, and the sudden rush of fear only heightened the pleasure. You could feel your heart racing, your body responding to the mix of pain and pleasure in a way that was almost primal. "Beg for it," she growled, her voice thick with need. "Tell me you want it."

Your voice was hoarse from the gag of pleasure, but you managed to force out the words. "Please," you whimpered, "I want it."

Vi's grin grew wider, the power in her gaze never wavering. "Good girl," she purred, her hand tightening around your neck, the pressure just shy of painful. "You're going to come for me now."

Her words were a command, and your body obeyed. You felt the orgasm crest over you like a wave, your muscles clenching around her cock as you were consumed by the most intense pleasure you had ever felt. Your eyes rolled back in your head, a keening cry escaping your lips as you shuddered beneath her, the sensation of her thumb on your throat only amplifying the intensity.

As the climax washed over you, you felt a sudden gush of wetness, your body squirting out a warm jet that soaked the bedsheets and made Vi gasp in surprise. She stilled for a moment, her eyes going wide before a grin of pure satisfaction spread across her face. "Fuck," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "You really are something else."

You lay there, panting and trembling, the aftershocks of pleasure still rolling through you. Vi leaned down, her breath warm against your neck, and whispered, "I'm not done with you yet." Her teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Her hand left your throat and slid down to your clit, her fingers beginning to rub it in a slow, teasing circle.

You moaned, your body already responding despite the fear and confusion clouding your mind. "No," you managed to gasp out, pushing feebly at her chest. "It's too much, I can't..."

Vi just chuckled, the sound low and dark. "You think I care?" she murmured, her eyes glinting with a sadistic excitement. She slapped your pussy again, harder this time. "I didn't ask if you could take it," she said, her voice a harsh whisper. "I'm going to use you until I'm satisfied, and you're going to take it all."

You whimpered, your body already beginning to respond to the mix of pain and pleasure. It was wrong, you knew it was wrong, but you couldn't help the way your hips lifted to meet her hand, the way your breath hitched in anticipation of the next blow.

Vi's grin grew, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "That's it," she murmured, her voice a dark purr. "You're going to be such a good little slut for me." She slapped you again, the pain making your vision swim before pleasure flooded your senses, your body arching off the bed.

Her fingers slid back inside you, pumping in and out with a rhythm that was relentless and punishing. You could feel her knuckles brushing against your clit with each thrust, sending sparks of sensation shooting through your body. You moaned, the sound muffled by the pillow still pressed to your face.

As the pleasure mounted, you felt something inside you snap. The words you had held back for so long, the words you never thought you'd say to someone like Vi, tumbled out of your mouth. "I love you," you whimpered, the confession weak and pathetic.

Vi's movements stuttered, her eyes widening with shock. For a brief moment, she seemed to freeze above you, the hand that had been so brutally claiming you going still. Then, she leaned down, her voice a low rumble. "What did you say?"

You repeated the words, your voice stronger now, though still a whisper. "I love you, Vi." It was the truth, and you didn't know why it was, but it was as clear to you as the moon outside your window. The woman who had just violated you in the most intimate way possible had somehow stolen your heart in the process.

Vi's expression softened, her eyes searching yours for a sign of deception. But all she found was raw, desperate need. Her hand stilled on your clit, her cock still buried inside you. "You don't know what you're saying," she murmured, though there was something in her tone that suggested she wasn't entirely convinced.

You shook your head, the tears of pleasure blurring your vision. "I do," you insisted, your voice a broken whisper. "I love you, Vi. I don't know why, but I do."

Vi stared at you for a moment longer, her eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or fear. But all she saw was the truth of your words, reflected back at her in your glassy gaze. With a groan that was almost a growl, she leaned down and claimed your mouth with hers, her kiss brutal and possessive.

Her tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the sweetness of your submission as she began to fuck you once more. Each stroke was deep and hard, a declaration of ownership that resonated through your very soul. You moaned into the kiss, your body responding eagerly to her touch.

Vi's hand slid down to cup your ass, lifting you up to meet her thrusts. The angle was perfect, sending her cock deeper with each powerful push. You felt the head of her cock brush against your g-spot, the sensation making your eyes roll back in your head. "Mine," she growled against your lips, claiming you in every way possible.

Your legs wrapped around her waist, holding her tight as she ravaged you. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and her grunts of effort. It was a symphony of lust and dominance that you never wanted to end.

You gripped the headboard tightly, the wood digging into your palms as you tried to hold on to something, anything, in the face of the overwhelming pleasure. Each time she drove into you, you felt like you were being split apart, only to be put back together with a new piece of her embedded deep within you.

Her hand left your ass to wrap around your throat again, the pressure increasing slightly as she pulled back, only to slam into you with even more force. You could feel her getting closer to her own release, her body tensing and her breathing growing ragged.

With a whine of desperation, you reached up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from your throat and instead guiding it to your chest. You needed more, something to anchor you to the world as your body was lost in the maelstrom of pleasure she was creating.

Vi's hand complied, cupping one of your breasts roughly. You moaned into her mouth, feeling her palm against your sensitive flesh, the calloused pads of her fingers grazing your nipple. The feeling was almost too much, your body already on the edge of another orgasm.

With a growl, she broke the kiss, moving her mouth down to your neck. She bit down, hard enough to leave a bruise, and you couldn't help the whine that escaped your throat. She soothed the sting with a flick of her tongue, her teeth scraping against your skin as she moved to your collarbone.

Her hand squeezed your breast, her thumb flicking your nipple in a way that sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You felt the pressure building again, your body responding to her every touch, her every move. It was like you were a marionette, and she held all the strings.

Vi's rhythm grew more erratic, her breathing harsher, and you knew she was close. You tightened your legs around her, pulling her deeper, silently begging for her to let go. You felt the head of her cock pulse inside you, and the pressure was too much to bear. With a scream that was muffled by the pillow, you came again, your body shaking with the force of it.

This time, the orgasm was accompanied by a gush of wetness that soaked the bed and spattered her face. Vi chuckled darkly, her hand coming down to pat your pussy gently as if she were praising a pet that had performed a trick. The sensation was strange, almost tender amidst the harshness of her fucking, and you squirted again, the warm liquid hitting her cheek and mixing with the sweat already there.

Vi's strokes grew harder, more demanding, as she neared her own climax. You could feel her cock swelling inside you, her hips slamming into yours with a force that was almost painful. Your eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure grew too intense to handle, your teeth digging into the pillow to keep from screaming.

Suddenly, she pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. You looked up to see her stroking her cock, her eyes never leaving yours. "You want me to cum inside you?" she asked, her voice a mix of challenge and temptation.

You nodded, unable to find the words to answer. Your body was on fire with need, and the idea of feeling her fill you up was almost too much to bear. Vi's eyes narrowed, and she leaned back in, lining herself up with your entrance. With one final, powerful thrust, she sank back into you, her cock pulsing as she reached her climax.

You felt the warmth of her release flood you, filling you completely. It was a strange feeling, one that was both humiliating and thrilling. Your body was no longer your own; it was hers to use and abuse as she saw fit. And as she emptied herself into you, you realized that you had never felt more alive.

Vi pulled out slowly, her cock leaving you with a wet pop. You felt the emptiness keenly, your body already missing the feeling of being filled by her. She sat back on her haunches, her chest heaving, and looked down at you with a smirk. "You're mine now," she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction.

Before you could react, she leaned down, her hand moving between your legs. You felt a finger slide into your pussy, and then she was scooping out the cum that had leaked out, her gaze never leaving yours. The act was strangely intimate, a claiming of your body's response to her. She brought her hand up to her mouth, her eyes never breaking contact as she licked the cum from her finger with a slow, deliberate motion.

"You taste so sweet," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "I can't wait to have more." The words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and anticipation. You had no idea what she had planned for you, but you knew it would be intense.

You looked up at her, trying to gather the strength to protest. "Vi, please," you gasped, your voice weak and trembling. "I can't take any more."

But Vi just smiled, a wicked glint in her eye. She leaned down, her face inches from yours, and began to pepper your cheeks with gentle kisses. Each one was like a butterfly's touch, light and feathery, a stark contrast to the brutal fucking she had just given you. She kissed your eyelids, your nose, the tip of your chin, her lips moving with a tenderness that was almost tender.

Her hand continued to play with your sensitive folds, her thumb circling your clit lazily. "You're so beautiful when you come," she whispered, her voice a soft caress. "I could watch you all night."

The gentle touch was too much, your body already overwhelmed with sensation. "Please," you begged, not sure what you were asking for. Whether you wanted her to stop or keep going, your words hung in the air, a silent plea for mercy.

Vi's eyes searched yours, the smirk slowly fading into something softer. She leaned closer, her thumb still circling your clit with a maddening gentleness. "Can I- can I kiss you?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

For a moment, she seemed surprised, the tenderness in your voice reaching something deep within her. Her hand stilled, and she looked at you, really looked at you. Then, with a nod, she leaned in, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was gentle and searching. It was a stark contrast to the brutality of the past moments, a kiss that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken promises and dark secrets.

Your body responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around her neck, pulling her closer. You tasted the salt of her sweat, the tang of your own arousal on her mouth. It was a heady mix that only served to heighten your need for her. Vi's hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair as she deepened the kiss.

For a moment, you forgot about the pain, the fear, the confusion. There was only the two of you, lost in a passion that seemed to burn brighter than the sun. Your bodies melded together, moving in a silent dance that spoke of a connection that went deeper than just flesh and bone.

Vi's thumb began to move again, her gentle strokes sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You moaned into the kiss, your hips lifting to meet her hand. She broke away, her breath hot against your cheek as she whispered, "Do you want more?"

You shake your head, "I really can't." Your voice was barely audible, a soft protest against the onslaught of desire that was consuming you. But Vi was insistent, her hand moving faster, her eyes never leaving yours. "You can," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr. "You're stronger than you think."

Your breathing grew more ragged, your chest heaving as you struggled for air. The room felt like it was spinning, the pressure building inside you like a volcano ready to erupt. You could feel the blood rushing to your head, the world going dark around the edges. "Vi," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea. "I'm gonna pass out."

But she just chuckled, her eyes never leaving yours. "Not yet," she murmured, her thumb moving even faster. "I want to watch you come one more time."

Your body was on the edge, teetering between agony and ecstasy. You couldn't take it anymore, but somehow, you also couldn't get enough. Vi's thumb was a brand on your clit, her hand moving with a precision that seemed to know every secret of your body. You felt the pressure building again, a crescendo of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

"Come for me," she whispered, her voice a dark caress. "Come for me, my little slut." The words sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core, and with a scream that you didn't recognize as your own, you did. Your body arched off the bed, your back bowing as the orgasm hit you like a freight train.

You felt yourself tightening around her hand, your pussy clenching and pulsing as you spasmed beneath her. Vi's eyes were alight with triumph and hunger, watching the show she had orchestrated with a greed that was almost palpable. She didn't stop, her thumb still working your clit as you rode the waves of pleasure.

The orgasm was unlike anything you had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. Your toes curled and your nails dug into the bed, the fabric tearing beneath your grip. The room was a blur of sensation, your thoughts scattered to the four winds as you lost yourself in the feeling of her hand on you.

Vi's thumb didn't relent, the steady rhythm keeping you on the edge of the cliff, unable to pull back from the precipice. Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation as she pushed you further than you had ever gone. "Vi," you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. "Please, I can't."

But she just grinned, her eyes gleaming with a dark excitement. "You can," she whispered, her breath hot against your cheek. "You're going to come for me until I say stop."

Your eyes rolled back in your head, the world going fuzzy around the edges. You couldn't take much more of this, you were sure of it. Each stroke of her thumb was a brand, a mark of ownership that seared into your very soul. But as much as your body protested, it also craved more. The pleasure was an addiction, and Vi was your dealer.

Her hand was relentless, the strokes coming faster now, the pressure increasing until you thought you might shatter. You felt another orgasm building, a monster in the depths of your core that threatened to consume you. "No," you moaned, your voice weak and trembling. "Please, no more."

But Vi wasn't listening, her eyes locked onto yours, her expression one of pure, unbridled lust. She leaned down, her mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was almost gentle, a stark contrast to the roughness of her hand. You could feel her smile against your lips, the warmth of her breath mingling with your own.

The pressure built, your body a tight coil of pleasure and pain. You felt yourself slipping away, the edges of your vision going dark. "Vi," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't..."

But she was unrelenting, her hand moving faster, her thumb a blur against your clit. You felt yourself falling, the world around you fading into a sea of sensation. You tried to hold on, to keep your eyes open, but it was like trying to grasp at water. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, dragging you under and leaving you gasping for air.

As the pleasure consumed you, your vision went dark, the room spinning out of control. You felt yourself slipping away, the last of your strength leaving you. Your body went limp, the tension draining from your muscles as the world grew quiet. The only thing you could hear was the distant sound of your own ragged breathing.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the uncomfortable weight of your clothes. You were fully dressed, your pajamas sticking to your sweat-soaked skin. The bedsheets beneath you were new and clean, the smell of fresh laundry filling your nose. For a moment, you wondered if it had all been a dream, a twisted nightmare that had felt all too real. But then you felt the ache between your legs, the sticky mess that was a testament to what had just transpired.

With a groan, you pushed yourself up, your muscles protesting the sudden movement. Your body was sore, a delicious reminder of the relentless pleasure Vi had wrung from you. The room was quiet, the only sound the distant echo of the city outside your window. You knew you had to face the music, had to tell Jinx what had happened. So, you took a deep breath and slowly slid off the bed.

Your legs wobbled, threatening to give out beneath you, but you managed to stay upright. Each step towards the door was a battle, your body still pulsing with the aftermath of your encounter. You didn't bother to smooth your hair or straighten your clothes; you knew that your disheveled state would be the first clue that something was amiss.

As you opened the door, the cool air of the corridor hit you like a slap in the face, jolting you fully awake. You stumbled into the hallway, leaning against the wall for support. Your heart was racing, your thoughts a chaotic jumble of lust, fear, and confusion. You had to tell someone, but who? Jinx was the only one you could trust, but how could you explain?

You could hear her laughter from the living room, the sound echoing down the hallway like a taunt. She seemed to be talking with someone, her voice a mix of amusement and something darker that you couldn't quite place. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You had to tell her, had to make her understand what had happened.

As you stepped into the room, you saw Vi sitting on the couch, her legs sprawled out in front of her, looking as if she owned the place. Jinx sat next to her, a smug smile playing on her lips as she glanced up at you. "There you are, sleepyhead," she said, her tone mocking. "Soo, about yesterday when I told you about my sister, here she is!"

Jinx's elbow jabbed into your side, and she winked. "Well, have fun guys," she sing-songed, her voice dripping with mischief as she got up and left the room, shutting the door behind her with a snicker. You stared after her, your mind racing. What was she playing at? Did she know what Vi had done to you?

Vi looked up at you, her eyes glinting with a knowing look that sent a shiver down your spine. She had the audacity to smile, a smile that was both sweet and sinister. "Hi," she said, as if you were two strangers meeting for the first time. "Nice to finally meet you."

[hanniewho]

Hi!!! I was wondering if u could do some Gerard Way hcs?? Maybe something cute ^_^ I love your writing btw!!!

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Notes: LET ME COOK

༘ ⋆｡ ˚ Warnings: None just full of fluff

𝜗𝜚˚⋆Dating Gee hcs!

Loves taking selfies with you. Especially when you're not ready.

You could be doing the most horrendous face, and he already took a pic.

When you tell him to delete it, he said,'Okay!' But never deleted it, and somehow it got leaked on Twitter.

Text you the most ridiculous time like this:

He would sulk really badly if he didn't get what he wanted.

It's even worse when he's sick.

He's like a bed bug and won't let you go.

"Gee, you have to let me go, and I need to cook food for you." He puffed out his cheeks and whined as he clung to your arm 'nooooooo don't wannnaaa'.

He will cover with kisses until you fall sick with him too.

And when you're sick and he's all better, he would take care of you and wanted to kiss you, but you had to push him away.

He would take you to comic store date too.

And yaps about the comics the whole time you guys at it, and you just smile and listen to him talking with passion.

LOVES kisses. You're washing your hands after dinner? He kisses your cheek. You're hanging out with the band in his basement? Mwah, a kiss on your forehead. He just love to kiss you as much as he can.

You guys would have so many matching stuff. Matching bracelets, necklaces, Keychains you name it.

Night drives are a must with him. He doesn't care if you're sleeping or whatever he'll barge in and drag you out for a night drives.

And he let you do his makeup, too! But he won't stay put or shut up when you do his makeup and keep yap about how pretty you are when you're focused.

[hanniewho]

⋆˚࿔ Bass Practice 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ Summary: Bass pratice with your boyfriend that turns into something else!

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Notes: I lost the ask, but it's a request by @mikestarrswife and thank you for requesting I accidentally post the draft of this fic and I deleted it 😭😭😭 I'm a dumb fuck I know.

𐙚˙✧˖° Words: 2.9k

༘ ⋆｡ ˚ Warnings: Grinding, Mirror sex, Riding, Creampie, Handjob, Dirty talk, Getting caught by Frank

⋆✦ Pairings: DD era Mikey x afab reader

"Remember, honey," Mikey said, his breath warm against your ear, "just feel the rhythm." His arms snaked around you, his fingers brushing against yours as he hovered over the bass strings. The room was a cozy cocoon of sound, with only the gentle hum of the amp to keep them company. You sat between his legs, your back pressed against his firm chest, feeling his heartbeat sync with the bass line.

You had never played bass before, but Mikey had insisted, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's all about the vibe," he had said, setting the instrument in your lap. His hands had been a gentle guide as you fumbled through the chords, his thumbs stroking your wrists in silent encouragement. Now, as you strummed clumsily, his body molded to yours, his thighs framing your hips and his chin resting on your shoulder.

Shifting to find a more comfortable position, you unintentionally brushed the curve of your ass against the bulge in his pants. The contact was electric, sending a jolt of surprise through both of you. His grip on your hips tightened, and you felt his cock twitch beneath you. Heat flooded your cheeks as you froze, the vibration of the bass strings against your skin now a pulsing reminder of your shared secret.

Mikey's breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he was going to pull away. Instead, his hands began to move more deliberately, his fingers tracing the neck of the bass, guiding yours to a new pattern. His hips rolled slightly, a silent question that your body seemed eager to answer. The music grew louder, more intense, and the room grew hotter, the air thick with anticipation.

You felt your own heart racing now, the thrill of the forbidden mixing with the steady rhythm of the bass. Each time your hand moved to the next fret, it was as if you were reaching for something more than just a new note. Your eyes met his in the mirror, and the smoldering desire reflected back at you was impossible to ignore. You bit your lip, trying to focus on the music, but your thoughts kept drifting to the tension building between your bodies.

Mikey's breath grew ragged as he leaned in closer, his mouth grazing your earlobe. "Keep playing," he murmured, his voice low and rough with need. The vibration of his voice sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself swaying in time with the music, grinding against him unconsciously. The bass line grew more complex, but your body seemed to understand the language of desire, moving in sync with his.

The scent of sweat and leather filled the air as your chemistry reached a fever pitch. You felt the heat from his arousal through your jeans, and your own need grew more urgent. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, your breaths coming in shallow pants. The bass became a living thing beneath your fingers, a pulsing, demanding force that seemed to require more than just music.

You glanced at him in the mirror again, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice as you whispered, "Baby, just let me help you out okay?" The bass thumped on, a steady, insistent rhythm matching your heart's beating. Mikey's eyes never left yours in the reflection, his pupils dilated with lust. "You're poking my ass." The words were a teasing challenge, and you couldn't help but smirk.

With a sudden, decisive movement, you placed the bass down, leaning it against the amp. The strings sang out a final note that hung in the air, echoing the moment's intensity. Your hand slid from the neck of the instrument to Mikey's, entwining your fingers with his. His eyes closed briefly, a shiver running through him as he felt your skin on his. The bass guitar was forgotten now, a mere prop in the unfolding scene of passion.

You turned in his embrace, straddling his lap. His erection pressed against you, and you rocked your hips gently, watching his face contort with pleasure. He whimpered, his hands sliding up your body to cup your breasts through your tank top. His thumbs grazed your nipples, eliciting a gasp from your parted lips. The room was a cocoon of sound and heat, and you were lost in the symphony of your shared desire.

"You're so horny today," you murmured, smiling coyly as you leaned in to kiss his neck. His pulse throbbed beneath your teeth, and you felt his hands tighten on your hips. "What's up?" You didn't need to ask; the answer was written all over his flushed skin and the desperate hunger in his eyes.

Mikey's mouth found yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep as he pulled you closer. Your hips rolled against his, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of you. You could feel the wetness growing between your legs, and the way he was grinding up into you told you he was just as turned on. The bass guitar was now forgotten, a silent witness to the passion unfolding before it.

You reached between you, fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans. His cock sprang free, hot and heavy in your hand. He moaned into your mouth as you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him in time with the lingering bassline echoing in the room. The fabric of your own jeans grew damp as you rubbed against his thigh, the denim rough against your swollen clit.

With a whimper, Mikey pulled away from your kiss, arching his neck as you began to circle your thumb on the sensitive tip of his cock. The sound was music to your ears, a sweet symphony of need that only spurred you on. You watched his expression in the mirror, the way his eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open, and it was all the encouragement you needed.

"Oh, fuck," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, grinding your hips down onto him. His cock was slick with pre-cum now, making it easier for you to glide your thumb in slow, torturous circles. Each pass brought a new, sharper sound from his throat, and your own arousal grew with each whimper that escaped him.

"Oops," you whispered, your eyes gleaming with mischief as you pulled away, your hand slipping from his cock. You pretended to examine your fingertips as if surprised by their sudden absence. "My hand slipped."

But the joke was lost on Mikey, his eyes snapping open and focusing on yours. You could see the tears prickling the corners of his eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming pleasure that washed over him. It was a vulnerable moment, a glimpse into the depth of his need for you. And it only made you want him more.

With a smirk, you reached back and grabbed the hem of your tank top, pulling it over your head in one smooth motion. The fabric glided over your skin, the cool air hitting your bare breasts making your nipples pebble even harder. Mikey's eyes widened, his gaze dropping to take in the sight of you. You weren't wearing a bra, and the sight of your naked chest made him groan.

You leaned back slightly, giving him better access as his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your sensitive peaks. The sensation was exquisite, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You ground down on his thigh, the fabric of your jeans rubbing against your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

"Please," he begged, his voice hoarse. "I need you."

With a wicked smile, you reached down to unbutton and unzip your own jeans, sliding them down your legs with a sinuous grace that made Mikey's eyes darken even further. You stepped out of them, leaving them in a rumpled pile on the floor. The sight of your bare skin, the smoothness of your legs and the patch of dampness at the apex of your thighs, was almost too much for him to handle.

"Look," you whispered, your voice low and sultry, your eyes never leaving his. "Look in the mirror and watch how I'm going to fuck you." You positioned yourself over his erect cock, his tip grazing the damp fabric of your panties. He could see your hand, hovering just above him, the anticipation playing out in the tightness of your grip.

Mikey's gaze followed your instructions, and in the mirror, he took in the view of your bare back, the smooth arch of your spine, and the seductive way your hair fell in soft waves. You watched him watch you, the sight of his hunger reflected in the glass sending a thrill down your spine. With a deft movement, you pulled your panties aside, and with a gasp, you sank down onto him, inch by torturous inch.

The mirror showed his eyes widen with shock and pleasure as he was engulfed by your warmth. Your hand traveled down to your ass, and you began to knead it with purposeful strokes, feeling the tension in your body coil even tighter. The sight of your hand moving across your skin, the way your fingers dug in slightly, had Mikey whimpering, his hips bucking up to meet you. Each stroke was a silent promise of what was to come, each squeeze a tease that had him begging for more.

With a sudden, decisive move, you slammed down onto his dick, the force of your motion making him throw his head back and moan your name shamelessly. "Oh, fuck, baby mghh.. ah... right- that's it" The sound reverberated through the small room, mingling with the lingering bass notes and your gasps for breath. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you held on tight, riding him with a fervor that seemed to match the tempo of the music still echoing in your mind.

You watched his face in the mirror, the way his eyes rolled back in ecstasy, his mouth parting in silent pleas for more. The sight of him beneath you, his muscles straining, his cock disappearing inside you, was almost too much to handle. You began to move faster, your hips rolling in a sensual dance that seemed to be choreographed by the bass line itself. The room was alive with the sound of your bodies slapping together, the scent of lust thick in the air.

Mikey's hands gripped your ass, urging you on, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. His hips met yours in a frenzied rhythm, his cock hitting that spot inside you that sent stars exploding across your vision. Your movements grew more erratic, your breath hitching as you chased the orgasm building deep within. The bass guitar was forgotten now, a silent sentinel watching over the symphony of passion playing out in its shadow.

"Wanna cum inside, baby?" You leaned back, grunting with the effort of each thrust, your hand reaching down to stroke his chin, tilting his head back so you could look into his eyes. The question was a challenge, a promise, and a declaration all rolled into one. Mikey's eyes lit up with a fiery need that mirrored your own. He nodded frantically, his voice a garbled mess of pleasure. "Wanna milk your pretty dick dry?"

Mikey's grip on your hips tightened, his nails digging into your skin as he pulled you down onto him harder. "Fuck yes," he managed to get out between gasps. "I want it all." His voice was a raw, pathetic whimper that sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned in, capturing his mouth with yours, your tongues tangling together in a dance as old as time. The sound of your skin slapping together filled the room, punctuated by your shared moans and the occasional squeak of the couch beneath you.

You felt him swell inside you, his cock growing even thicker as you bounced up and down with wild abandon. Your tits jiggled with the motion, bouncing in front of his face like a delicious, erotic buffet. He leaned forward, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting as you rode him. The sensation was exquisite, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body that seemed to center around his cock.

As your movements grew more frantic, your hand moved down to cup his balls, the heat of his arousal radiating into your palm. You squeezed gently, rolling them as you watched his face contort in the mirror. The sound that left his throat was one of pure, unbridled pleasure, and it sent a thrill through you, knowing you had that power over him.

Your orgasm was building, a crescendo of sensation that washed over you like a tidal wave. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, and you could feel Mikey's own climax building in the tension of his body. His muscles tensed, his breaths grew shallower, and his hips bucked up into you with a desperation that had your toes curling.

"Fuck," you groaned, your voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I'm gonna cum."

Mikey's eyes snapped open, the intensity in his gaze searing into your soul. "Do it," he breathed, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Let me feel you cum around me."

With a whimper, you gave in, your body tightening around his cock as your orgasm crashed through you like a storm. You threw your head back, your hair a wild tangle around your face as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you. Mikey's hands never stopped moving, his thumbs now circling your clit as he fucked you through your climax, drawing it out until your legs trembled and your vision swam.

And then, as if the music had reached its crescendo, he followed you over the edge. With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room, Mikey's hips bucked up into you, his cock pulsing with the force of his release. You felt the thick, hot spurt of his cum fill you up, a warmth that seemed to spread through every inch of your being. It was a feeling of utter surrender, of being claimed in the most primal way possible.

You collapsed onto his chest, your breaths coming in heaving gasps. His heart pounded against yours, a tempo that matched the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through your body. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go. The room was quiet now, the only sound the distant echo of the bass line that had started it all.

Mikey kissed your neck softly, his breathing gradually evening out. His cock remained inside you, a gentle reminder of the fiery passion that had just blazed between you. You could feel his heartbeat slowing, the throb of his pulse matching the dwindling tremors of your own climax. For a moment, you just held each other, basking in the afterglow.

"That was..." Mikey began, but the words seemed to fail him. You laughed, the sound light and airy as you pressed your cheek to his. "Yeah," you agreed, still too breathless to form coherent sentences. "It really was."

You lay there, still straddling him, feeling the sticky warmth of his cum inside you, his cock still twitching with the aftershocks of his release. Your own body felt like a live wire, every nerve ending singing with sensation. "I think we should make bass practice a regular thing," you murmured, a hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

Mikey chuckled, his arms tightening around your waist. "I think I could get used to that." He nuzzled your neck, his breath warm and comforting. "But maybe next time, we should lock the door," he suggested, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

Suddenly, the door to the practice room flew open, slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. "Guys, guys," Frank's voice boomed into the room, "you guys would never believe it- woah." His eyes went wide as he took in the scene before him. You both froze, your hearts hammering in your chests. The bass guitar leaned forgotten against the amp, your jeans pooled around your ankles, and your bare chest heaving with the aftermath of passion.

Mikey's eyes went from shock to annoyance in a heartbeat, and he buried his face in your hair. "What the fuck, Frank?" he growled, his voice muffled. You couldn't help but giggle into his neck, the absurdity of the situation bubbling up inside you.

Frank stumbled back a step, his cheeks reddening. "Oh, shit, sorry, guys. I didn't know... I'll, uh, I'll just..." He gestured awkwardly before turning on his heel and retreating, the door swinging shut behind him. His footsteps faded down the hall, and the sound of his retreating laughter was like a distant echo.

Mikey's shoulders slumped, his grip on you loosening. "Well, that was... unexpected," he murmured, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. You couldn't help but laugh, the tension breaking as your giggles turned into full-blown laughter. It was the kind of laugh that made your belly ache and your eyes water, the kind that left you gasping for breath.

You slid off his lap, his cock slipping from you with a wet sound that had you both blushing. Quickly, you pulled your jeans back up, tugging your tank top into place. Mikey stood, tucking himself back into his own pants, his cheeks still flushed from the interruption. "I guess we should get back to it," he said, his voice still thick with arousal. But the mood had shifted, the intensity of the moment diffusing into a comfortable, intimate warmth.

[hanniewho]

I loved your Mikey headcanons, Can you write your Gerard headcanons? You can write anything from sfw to dead dove

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Notes: I have so many things to yap about this skrunkly pookie wookie cookie of a man. And stalker gee would be so perfect omgomgmg

༘ ⋆｡ ˚ Warnings: Noncon, Panty sniffing, Masturbating, Privacy invasion, Corruption kink, Mention of piss, Blood and literally disgusting shit (I do not condone any of this behavior in real life so don't do it it's not cool and it's not hot!)

⋆✦ Pairings: Stalker! Gerard x Underage virgin fem reader

۫ ꣑ৎ DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

𝜗𝜚˚⋆SFW

The first time he saw you was one of the tour they're having, and you're in the front row with your mum and the closest to the stage.

You look so happy and smiling widely to him it made him almost forgot that's he's singing.

He feels so disgusted of himself for crushing on you, a high schooler, and not even legal yet, but he can't help it. You're so gorgeous and look so innocent he just wanna ruin you.

He would leave you flowers and gifts everyday with a note on it "Keep going you're great!" "Have some treat you're the best♡" "Even with all of these flowers none of them can show how much I love you :)"

You're wondering where these are coming from and who sends them. It's sweet and adorable but you're freaking out.

You don't even feel safe at home anymore because you feel like you're being watched, so you go to school even more often even though you hated it but it's better than staying home.

You feel your anxiety grew each week, and you talk about it to your friends. All of them are concerned for you.

And when you're at home you rarely came out of your room anymore.

You made sure all the windows are covered in curtains and locked, but of course, he found a way to break in he just loves you so much.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ NSFW

He would take so many pictures of you just to touch himself right after it he can't help himself.

He will break into your room just to kneel next to your bed and admire how pretty you are. And in the morning you wonder why your thighs always ended up with sticky load.

Your panties always go missing, too and here he is sniffing someone's panties and playing his rock hard cock.

He just love you so so much that he can't help himself but to dream to fuck you so good.

He always imagine how tight your pussy is since he knows everything about you.

He knows you're a virgin, and it turns him on even more he just wanna ruin your cute pussy and make you his!

You jolted awake to a pounding, your heart racing. At first, you thought it was the bass from your neighbor's stereo, but it was something more... personal. You lay in your small, dimly-lit room, the only source of light the flickering street lamp outside your window, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The mattress beneath you protested with every thrust, and the headboard thudded rhythmically against the wall. Panic set in as you realized the pounding was coming from inside you. You were being violated, your tight, virgin body being used against your will.

The pain was sharp, like a knife slicing through the tender barrier of your innocence. You tried to scream, but a rough hand clamped over your mouth, stifling the sound. You tasted the metallic tang of fear as you bit down on your lip, trying to hold back the tears. Your eyes searched the room frantically, but all you could make out was the dark figure hovering above you, his identity obscured by the shadows. His breath was hot and ragged, a stark contrast to the cool air in the room, and you felt his body weight pressing you down into the mattress.

He leaned closer, his grunts becoming more feral with every thrust. The smell of him, musky and unwelcome, filled your nostrils as he whispered into your ear, "You're tighter than I imagined." His words were a dark revelation, confirming the horror of what was happening. The hand over your mouth moved to grip your neck, his thumb tracing the pulse point, as if he were fascinated by the throb of your terror. "You're like killing me," he groaned, his voice a sinister rasp, "squeezing my cock like that." His eyes gleamed in the dim light, a sick, twisted pleasure etched into his features as he took in your wide-eyed, horrified gaze.

You couldn't help but moan into his hand, the pain morphing into a confusing mix of agony and arousal. The person you called your hero, your celebrity crush, was fucking you in the sacred sanctity of your own room, your parents' house a prison keeping you trapped with this monster. You felt a tear slip down your cheek, only to be lost in the pillow beneath you, as your body began to betray you. Your hips moved of their own accord, desperately seeking some semblance of comfort in the unyielding assault, and your walls clenched around him, a reflexive response to the intrusion.

Leaning down, he whispered into your ear, "Relax, okay?" His voice was soothing, a stark contrast to the violence of his actions. "It won't hurt so much if you just let go." His breath was warm and minty, and you realized with a start that he had been watching you, learning your routines, memorizing your scent, all while planning this twisted rendezvous. His teeth grazed the tender skin of your neck, and you felt a pinch as his fangs pierced your flesh. The pain was immediate and sharp, but it was soon overwhelmed by a rush of heat and pleasure that flooded your body. You were being turned on against your will, your traitorous body responding to the bite of the man who had been stalking you.

As he bit deeper, you felt your muscles relaxing, a strange lethargy seeping into your limbs. His hand around your neck tightened, and his thumb caressed your pulse as it raced under his touch. His eyes held yours, the gleam in them now one of power and satisfaction as he watched the fear slowly recede. You couldn't fight anymore; you were his to do with as he pleased. He began to move in earnest, his hips pistoning into you with a force that made the bed frame creak in protest. Each thrust sent waves of conflicting sensations through you: pain, pleasure, disgust, and a sick, twisted need for more.

"Fuck, you're so good," he grunted, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. His cock was thick and merciless, stretching you to the brink of what you could bear. His words were a taunt, a declaration of his victory over your will. "You're going to take all of me, aren't you?" His hand left your neck, instead reaching down to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of resistance, any spark of defiance. But all he saw was a dull acceptance, a silent plea for it to be over.

He slammed into you again, his hips punishing your vulnerable form. "You want that, don't you?" His voice was a mix of lust and malice. "You want to be filled with my kids." His words were a violation in themselves, a perversion of the innocent crush you had once held for him. You felt your stomach clench at the thought, but your body responded, your walls contracting around him in an involuntary invitation for more. "Say it," he demanded, his voice now a growl. "Tell me how much you want it."

You shake your head 'no- please don't i-', your voice muffled by his palm, but he only laughed, the sound echoing through the room, sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, I know you do," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic delight. "Your body's singing it for me." His thumb traced the outline of your lip, smearing your own blood onto your skin. "Say it," he repeated, his voice a seductive command that seemed to resonate in your very bones.

The struggle within you was visceral, a war between the primal instinct to survive and the uncontrollable desire that his bite had kindled. Each thrust brought you closer to the precipice of pleasure and pain, and you felt your resolve crumbling. "I-I don't," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling.

He leaned in closer, his eyes burning into yours. "Say it," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. "Say you want it." His thumb slid over your lip, the coppery taste of your own blood a stark reminder of the power he held over you.

You felt his tongue, warm and wet, trace the line of your neck. His breath hitched as he took in your scent, his pupils dilating with arousal. "I saw how you looked at me that day," he murmured, his voice a low, dark rumble. "Your eyes, it's like you're looking at me like I saved your life." His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of disgust and a perverse thrill that made your stomach churn.

His licks grew more insistent, his tongue circling the bite marks like a vulture over fresh kill. Each pass sent a jolt of sensation through your body, and you couldn't help the small whimpers that escaped your lips. The pleasure was wrong, a twisted mockery of what it should be, but it was there, undeniable and intoxicating. His hand moved from your chin to your throat, squeezing gently, reminding you of the power he had over your life. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice a whispered snarl.

You met his gaze, those piercing eyes that had once held so much hope and admiration now filled with a dark, possessive hunger. "Tell me," he said, his voice thick with desire, "tell me how much you want me to fill you with my cum." The words were a slap in the face, but your body responded with a betraying throb, your arousal growing with each twisted second that ticked by. You felt your cheeks flush with shame and anger, but the fight in you was waning.

With a snarl, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and exposing your throat. His teeth sank into your flesh again, this time with a ferocity that made you gasp. The pain was intense, but it was quickly drowned out by the flood of pleasure that followed, as if your body had been rewired to crave his bite. He began to fuck you harder, his hips slapping against your thighs with a wet, obscene sound. His hand moved to your chest, his long, cold fingers playing with your nipples, rolling and pinching until you moaned into his palm.

You couldn't believe what was happening. The person you had once adored, the one whose posters lined your walls, was now the monster that owned your body. And yet, the pleasure was undeniable, a sick, twisted dance of pain and ecstasy that made you feel so alive yet so dirty. Your not fully developed breasts bounced with each thrust, and you could feel the ache deep within you, the pressure building, threatening to shatter the last of your resolve. You cursed your parents for being out of town, leaving you at the mercy of this madman who had invaded your sanctuary.

As you felt his fingers tease and pinch your sensitive nipples, you bit down on your bottom lip, the sting of pain mixing with the sensation of his teeth in your neck. It was as if your body was torn between the need to scream for help and the betraying pleasure that coursed through your veins with every twisted caress. You could feel his excitement growing, his movements becoming more frantic, and you knew he was close to his release. Your eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the reality of his possession, trying to find a shred of dignity in the dark corners of your mind.

The curses you silently whispered to your parents grew louder in your head with every thrust, your anger a fiery beacon in the sea of fear and despair. They had always been so overprotective, so concerned about who you talked to, who you saw, what you did. Yet, here you were, in the most vulnerable moment of your life, and they were nowhere to be found. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow, making the situation feel even more like a nightmare you couldn't wake from.

As the pressure within you grew, so did the intensity of his bites, his teeth digging deeper into your tender flesh, his hands now a vice around your throat and the small mounds of your chest. You could feel his hunger, his need to claim you fully, to make you his in the most primal way possible. Each pinch of your nipples sent a jolt of pain-laced pleasure through your body, making your toes curl and your back arch involuntarily. Your breaths came out in ragged gasps, muffled by the hand that still covered your mouth.

His laugh was a low, guttural sound that vibrated against your skin, sending goosebumps down your spine. "Oh fuck," he groaned, "you're clenching around me like a vise, baby. You need to stop that, it's killing my dick." His words were a twisted mix of pain and pleasure, the kind that made your stomach drop and your pussy clench around him even tighter. His hips rocked into you with renewed vigor, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the quiet room.

The pressure within you built to a crescendo, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of an orgasm you never wanted, never asked for. His eyes bore into yours, the hunger in them unmistakable as he whispered, "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" It was a question that didn't need an answer; his cock was a living testament to your body's response to his violent ministrations.

His hand trailed down from your throat, over your chest, and paused at the bulge of your stomach. He pushed into the soft flesh, the feeling of his hand so alien, so wrong, and yet your body responded with a betraying shiver of excitement. The reality of his invasion was stark, a physical manifestation of the deep, dark secret that was now lodged within you. He grinned, his teeth stained with your blood, and you realized with a jolt of horror that he was watching the signs of his own pleasure reflected in your eyes.

"Look at that," he murmured, his voice a dark caress that sent a shiver down your spine. "You're so full of me." His fingers circled the swollen flesh of your abdomen, pressing down as he thrust into you, emphasizing the depth of his penetration. The feeling was overwhelming, a mix of revulsion and a perverse thrill that had you biting down harder on the hand muffling your screams. You could feel the head of his cock nudging against your cervix with every plunge, the sensation both terrifying and exhilarating.

His eyes never left yours, watching with a twisted fascination as you squirmed beneath him. "You're going to take it all," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to take every drop of my cum, and you're going to beg for more." His hand on your stomach grew more insistent, his nails digging in slightly, a reminder of the power he held over you. You felt the first tremors of an orgasm you never wanted, your body's natural response to the relentless pounding that was driving you closer to the edge.

Your eyes searched his, pleading, but all you saw was the monster that lurked beneath the surface. His hand moved lower, his thumb circling your clit with a practiced ease that made you feel even more violated. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to make your body respond even as your mind recoiled in horror. The pressure grew unbearable, and you knew you were going to break. "Please," you whispered, your voice a trembling mess. "Please stop." But the words were lost in the cacophony of your own moans and his grunts of pleasure.

His eyes narrowed, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" His thumb pressed down harder, and you felt your body tighten around him. "You're going to scream my name when I fill you up." The thought of giving him what he wanted was unbearable, but the sensation was too intense to ignore. You bit down on the hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds that were threatening to escape. "I feel like I'm gonna pee," you sobbed, your voice muffled and pathetic.

Gerard chuckled darkly, his teeth still buried in your neck. "That's it," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're gonna come for me, baby." His hips bucked faster, his cock slamming into you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. You felt a warm rush building, the pressure in your lower belly becoming unbearable. It was as if your body was being torn apart by the force of his lust and your own unwanted response.

You couldn't stop the moan that escaped, your body arching off the bed despite your attempts to hold back. The pleasure was like a wildfire, consuming you, turning your fear and anger into something darker, something that made you feel alive in the most twisted way possible. His eyes never left yours, his smile widening as he watched you fall apart beneath him. "That's it," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "Let go for me."

And then, with a final, brutal thrust, you did. The orgasm ripped through you, tearing apart the last shreds of your dignity. Your walls spasmed around his cock, milking him, and you felt him tense, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into you. His bite grew deeper, and you felt a warmth spread from the puncture wounds, a strange feeling that was both soothing and terrifying. His cum filled you, a thick, hot presence that made your stomach churn with a mix of pleasure and disgust. You were his now, in the most intimate way possible, and there was no going back.

Tears streamed down your face as he pulled away, his eyes still gleaming with triumph. He licked the blood from his teeth with a satisfied smack, a grin spreading across his face like a dark shadow. "See?" he murmured, his voice a dark purr. "It's not so bad, is it?" He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "You liked it, didn't you?" His hand slid down your body, coming to rest on the sticky mess between your legs, his fingers coated in your blood and his cum. "You're going to want more," he promised, his voice dripping with a sinister anticipation.

The sobs that tore from your throat were a mix of pain and anger, a visceral rejection of his claim. "No," you slurred out, your voice thick with tears and fear. "Fuck no." But even as you denied it, your traitorous body was still quivering with the aftershocks of your unwanted orgasm, the muscles of your pussy clenching around the emptiness he had left behind. You felt dirty, used, and utterly destroyed. The taste of your own blood in your mouth was a stark reminder of the reality of the situation.

He pulled out of you with a wet pop, the absence of his thick cock leaving you feeling both relieved and violated. He leaned over, his smile wide and predatory, and pushed your leg over his shoulder. The gesture was almost gentle, a stark contrast to the violence that had just occurred. "Aww, you're clenching around nothing," he cooed, his voice a twisted parody of affection. "That's so cute." His thumb traced over your swollen clit, and you couldn't help the involuntary jerk of your hips, the sensitivity of your overstimulated flesh making you shiver.

The room spun around you, the smell of sex and fear thick in the air. You felt his eyes on you, watching you with a mix of curiosity and hunger. It was as if he were studying you, cataloging your every reaction for some twisted, future encounter. "You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice a low purr that sent a shiver down your spine. "I can't wait to see what else I can get you to do." His fingers slid back inside you, coated in your juices and his own seed, and you whimpered, your body betraying you with a shudder of pleasure.

He began to pump his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing slow circles around your clit. Your body responded despite the horror of the situation, your walls clenching around his intrusion. The sensation was too much, a blend of pain and pleasure that you couldn't escape. His eyes never left yours, a silent challenge that made your stomach twist. "You want more," he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek. "You can't help it."

You felt yourself trembling, your muscles tightening around his fingers as he worked you expertly. Your mind screamed for it to stop, but your body was a traitor, responding to his touch like it was a lifeline. He leaned in closer, his mouth grazing your ear as he murmured, "Just say it. Tell me how much you want me to fill you up again." The words were a dark seduction, a siren's call that your body was powerless to resist.

With each word, his grip on your neck loosened slightly, his thumb tracing gentle patterns along your jawline. His breath was sweet, a stark contrast to the metallic taste of your own blood. "Let me love you," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress that made your skin crawl and your stomach churn. "Let me give you everything you've ever dreamed of." His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, and you felt your mouth open slightly, his words a drug that clouded your judgment.

Your mind reeled with the promise of escape, of a life free from the pain and fear that now suffocated you. You wanted to believe him, to give in to the dark allure of his words. But deep down, you knew it was a lie. He was a predator, a monster masquerading as a savior. "Anything," he murmured, his eyes searching yours, "just tell me what you want, and it's yours." The weight of his body was a constant reminder of his power, his fingers still moving inside you with a disturbing gentleness.

You searched for something, anything to cling to, a way out of the horror that had become your reality. And in that moment, a spark of defiance flickered to life. "Get out," you whispered, your voice hoarse from screaming into his hand. "Leave me alone." The words were a whispered challenge, a declaration of your refusal to be his plaything.

He paused, his eyes narrowing, his thumb still circling your clit. "What did you say?" His voice was deceptively calm, a serpent coiled and ready to strike. But you felt a shift in the air, a hint of doubt in his touch. You knew you had to be careful, to play the part of the victim while searching for a way to fight back.

"Please," you whimpered, forcing a tremble into your voice, "please don't do this." Your eyes searched his, trying to find a shred of humanity in the monster that held you captive. His hand stilled, and for a moment, you thought you'd convinced him. But then his smile grew, a chilling twist of his lips that sent a cold shiver down your spine.

"You're so convincing," he said, his voice low and mocking. "But we both know the truth, don't we?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your face. "Your body tells me everything I need to know." His hand around your neck tightened, a silent warning not to challenge him. His thumb slid back to your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your breath hitch.

You felt a flicker of anger, a small flame of rebellion that grew with each sickening stroke. "No," you choked out, your voice a hoarse whisper. "It's not what I want." But even as you denied it, your body was betraying you again, your pussy clenching around his fingers. The pleasure was a living lie, a mockery of everything you felt for him before this night.

Gerard leaned in closer, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Oh, but it is," he murmured, his voice a dark symphony of temptation. "You can't lie to me, not like this." His words were a taunt, a declaration of his victory over your will. You felt his breath on your neck as he took in your scent, his fangs scraping against your skin. The anticipation was a knife's edge, cutting through the fog of fear and pain.

You swallowed hard, your eyes searching the room for anything that could serve as a weapon. But it was a futile effort; he had chosen his hunting ground well. The room was empty, stripped of anything that could help you. The only sounds were the ragged gasps of your own breath and the wet, obscene noises of his fingers moving in and out of you. You could feel his cock, still hard and demanding, pressing against your inner thigh. The thought of him taking you again was almost too much to bear.

With a snarl, you reached down and grabbed his wrist, trying to pull his hand away from your pussy. He laughed, the sound a chilling counterpoint to the seriousness of the situation. "So feisty," he said, his grip tightening around your throat. "But it's too late for that." His thumb continued to circle your clit, and you bit back a whimper of pleasure.

He leaned in, peppering your face with wet, open-mouthed kisses. "How about you be a good girl and just take my cock, yeah?" he murmured, his voice a seductive hiss that made your skin crawl. His other hand reached up to fondle your underdeveloped breast, his cold, claw-like fingers pinching your tender nipple. The sensation was a mix of pain and arousal that had you writhing beneath him, hating yourself for the response your body couldn't help but give.

With a grin, he flipped you onto your stomach, your face buried in the pillows. The fabric muffled your cries as he pushed your legs apart, his body looming over you like a dark specter. "Don't go stiff," he warned, his voice a harsh whisper, "it'll hurt." The reality of his words sank in, and you forced yourself to relax, your body trembling with fear and revulsion.

You felt the mattress shift as he positioned himself behind you, his cock, still slick with your blood and juices, pressing against your bruised entrance. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back as he entered you once more, the pillows muffling your screams. Each thrust was a painful reminder of his dominance, your body stretching to accommodate his thickness. The smell of him was everywhere, a heady mix of lust and power that made your stomach churn.

His balls slapped against your ass with each movement, the sensation a stark contrast to the coldness of his skin. Each time he buried himself to the hilt, you felt the heat of his body deep inside you, the reality of his invasion impossible to ignore. His breath was hot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings that curdled in your ears. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a dark symphony of possession. "I own every part of you."

The bed frame groaned in protest, the springs squeaking with the force of his thrusts. You could feel the sticky mess of your combined fluids coating your thighs, a sticky reminder of his dominance. His hand moved up to your neck, his grip tightening as he began to fuck you harder, the pain bringing tears to your eyes. "Scream for me," he ordered, his voice a harsh command. "Let me hear how much you love it."

You bit down on the pillow, muffling your cries as best you could. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg, but your body was no longer your own. Each thrust sent waves of painful pleasure through you, a twisted symphony of agony and arousal that you couldn't ignore. His other hand slid down to your clit, his thumb pressing down with just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours was a rhythmic beat in the quiet of the night, a morbid soundtrack to the horror playing out. You felt his cock swell even further inside you, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable. Your muscles tightened, preparing for the inevitable release. You clenched your eyes shut, willing it to stop, but it was as if your body had a mind of its own.

With a feral growl, he leaned down and bit into your shoulder, the pain sharp and sudden. Your muffled scream was lost in the fabric of the pillow as you felt him come, his hot seed filling you up. Your body responded in kind, betraying you once again with a powerful orgasm that had you bucking against him. He held you down, grunting with each spurt of his release, his teeth still embedded in your skin.

As the tremors of his climax subsided, he pulled out of you, his grip on your hair releasing. You collapsed onto the mattress, your body a trembling mess of pain and pleasure. The metallic taste of your own blood mingled with your tears as you lay there, panting and defeated. He rolled you onto your back, his eyes gleaming in the dim light as he licked the blood from your neck, his tongue hot and rough against your sensitive skin.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice a low growl. You met his gaze, the defiance in your eyes replaced with a dull emptiness. He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?" He whispered, his thumb tracing the fresh bite marks on your neck. "You're going to do everything I say."

You nodded weakly, the fight draining out of you. What was the point in resisting? Your body had already betrayed you once; it would surely do so again. He smirked, pleased with your response. "That's my girl," he said, his voice a dark caress that made your skin crawl. He leaned in and kissed you, his tongue forcing its way past your lips, tasting of your blood and his own saliva.

As he pulled away, you felt a strange warmth spread through your body, a sensation that was both soothing and terrifying. It was as if he were marking you from the inside out, leaving a part of himself in every inch of your being. Your eyes fluttered closed, unable to meet his gaze any longer. The weight of his body lifted from yours, and you heard the rustle of clothing as he dressed.

The sound of his belt buckling was a stark reminder of the reality of your situation. He was going to leave you here, used and discarded like a piece of trash. "Are you just going to leave me like that?" you managed to croak out, the words barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Gerard paused, his eyes flickering down to the mess between your legs before meeting yours again. "We're not done yet," he said, his voice a dark promise that sent a cold shiver down your spine. "But you need to rest, little one. I have big plans for you." He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I'll be watching you, always."

The room grew colder as he left, the door clicking shut with a finality that echoed through the silence. You lay there, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pain and unwanted pleasure. The smell of him lingered, a heady mix of cologne and sweat that made you want to retch. Your mind raced, trying to process the horror of what had just happened, the reality of your new life as his toy, his pet, his...lover?