NEED to be best friends with these four losers in senior year of school and be the only girl in the group and thus get special privileges at sleepovers aka they all sleep on the floor while you get the whole sofa. Frank usually tries to bide his way onto the couch by promising 'to keep you warm' which, out of pity of his lying next to Ray, world's biggest snorer, you grant him.
ALSO need to get stoned at these sleepovers aaaaaand have Frank suggest spin the bottle only for him having to make out with Gerard on the first round which he pretends is super rock and roll. It's the 2000s so you probably call them Gaylords </3. Inevitably ends with you making out with all of them one by one as the bottle miraculously almost always lands on you. Bottle lands on Mikey when Gerard spins it and you all start pissing yourself laughing at Mikey's look of horror, and decide it's a sign from God to stop playing.
Being too high when they try and teach you how to play DnD so you're just giggly and keep forgetting the rules. Frank and you are the only two who don't absolutely adore DnD so you and him are in giggles when Ray gets annoyed at you for 'not listening'. They give up trying to teach you and someone (probs Gerard bc he's a horror perv) throws on Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Mikey's like "urghh this is the last thing I wanna watch when I'm high dude". Gerard tells him to take his glasses off so he can't see it and you're all in fits of giggles again.
AT LAST falling asleep at 2am like fifteen minutes into the film sandwiched between Mikey and Ray (Frank and Gerard are on the couch; Gerard intently watching and Frank covering his eyes pretending not to be scared) who quietly pull a blanket up over you. Mikey not daring to move a muscle in case he wakes you up whilst Ray lets you snuggle into his chest while he absolutely demolishes a bag of popcorn, occasionally dropping a kernel in your hair and picking it out and eating it with a quiet "whoops". Mikey's like "dude quit it she's gonna wake up!"
The morning after wondering if the making out stuff actually happened last night. This being confirmed when you look around the room at their sleeping faces (they suddenly have all ended up with one part of their body touching you in a big pile on the floor) in the early-morning light, your lip gloss is all over their faces. SIGH. What happens in the basement stays in the basement.
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Huge cuddle pile with all of the mice boys, just enjoying the comfort of everyone after a show and all winding down together❤️
this was too cute, thank you for requesting it<3 no warnings just fluff
The tour bus rattled down some endless European highway, the engine humming low beneath the rain tapping the roof. It was well past midnight, the only light in the narrow bunk corridor some dim orange glow from a reading lamp clipped to the curtain rail.
Gerard and Frank were squeezed into the bottom bunk like they’d been all tour. Gerard sat with his back against the wall, knees up, a beat-up copy of Doom Patrol balanced on one thigh. Frank was half-draped over him, head on Gerard’s chest, pointing at panels and whining every time Gerard tried to turn the page too fast.
The curtain fluttered. Gerard reached out without looking and yanked it open. “Mikey. Get in here.”
Mikey stood in the aisle in an oversized hoodie and socks, glasses slightly crooked from sleep. He didn’t even bother arguing, just sighed like this was an everyday inconvenience and crawled in, knees and elbows everywhere. Gerard shifted to make room that didn’t exist and Mikey ended up half on top of Frank, bony shoulder digging into his ribs.
“Ow, fuck—“
“Shh,” Gerard said, already pulling the curtain mostly shut again. “You love it.”
Ray appeared next, blanket in hand, clearly aiming for his own bunk. He took one look at the pile, shrugged like what’s one more body? and flopped in headfirst. There was a muffled oof from everyone as four grown men tried to occupy a space meant for one moderately sized person.
That’s when they noticed you hovering in the aisle, wrapped in Gerard’s stolen hoodie, trying not to laugh at the absolute chaos happening in that bunk.
Frank cracked one eye open. “Oh no,” he mumbled, voice thick with fake dread. “She’s gonna leave us for the top bunk and no spinal damage.”
Gerard reached out a hand, making grabby fingers. “Get in here or I’ll miss you and start crying.”
You didn’t need more invitation than that. You crawled in, the mattress groaning in protest. They rearranged like a puzzle solving itself—like it would clear up space, and suddenly you were in the middle, limbs draped over everyone like you belonged there. Which you did.
Gerard was under you the most, chest rising and falling slow under your cheek. He slipped a hand under the hem of your—well, his hoodie and began tracing little circles on your back, lazy and sweet. Frank was half asleep, face smushed against someone's shoulder, mumbling something that only made sense to him. Mikey, quiet as ever, wormed his ice-cold hands beneath the fabric of your hoodie and pressed them flat against your stomach.
You squeaked.
“Shh,” Mikey whispered, “I like this. You’re warm.”
Ray’s curls were everywhere, tickling Frank’s neck. Frank kept twitching, trying to blow them away without moving his arms, which were pinned. His legs were tangled under Mikey’s, slowly going numb.
“Mikey, foot’s asleep,” he grumbled, not moving.
Gerard tightened his arm around your waist. “Don’t you dare move,” he said into your hair, voice low and content. “I’m so fucking comfy right now.”
You laughed, quiet. The bus hit a pothole, and everyone swayed together like a single organism.
Ray’s voice came out soft, thoughtful. “We needed this.”
No one said anything else. There was the rain, the low rumble of tires on wet asphalt, and five heartbeats slowly syncing up in the dark.
Summary: Pretty much about Stoner!Frank, whom you met at a basement party your college friend threw. He was cute, and he knew it. You were the prettiest girl at the party.
Words: 1.468.
Warnings: mischievous reader, weed mention (written by a weed lover, sorry), alcohol, stoner!Frank supremacy, excessive flirting, poor life choices, mildly suggestive content.
A/N: hiii everyone! i've been obsessed with this kind of content lately, so I ended up writing this in my free time. pls mind that english isn't my first language and i've never actually been to the us, so some details or cultural references might not be 100% accurate.
i wanted to keep this simple and easy to read because that's basically the whole vibe. anywayyyy, i have no idea if i'll end up writing more stuff like this, but pls let me know if you liked it! ♡
A friend invited you to a shitty (yet somehow the most fun) basement party he threw every now and then at his late grandmother's old house on the outskirts of the city, in a quiet suburb that resembled the countryside more than an urban neighborhood. It always felt like a good option whenever you wanted to get away from New York.
From the outside, the house looked quiet enough. But the second you stepped through the front door, the noise hit you. Music, laughter, people talking over one another. It didn't take long after walking in for you to realize that everyone there felt pretty much the same as you and was looking for a break from real life.
You ran into a couple people from your color theory class near the bar and ended up talking with them for what felt like an hour. By the time you felt the buzz settling into your limbs, all you wanted was a cigarette, inviting one of your classmates outside for a smoke.
That's when you saw him.
He was standing against the wall, a joint hung loosely between his fingers as he passed it around to the guys next to him. When he exhaled a cloud of smoke and glanced your way, your eyes met.
And just like that, you thought he was cute.
Dangerously cute.
You lit your cigarette and kept talking to your classmate about teachers and classes, but every now and then your attention drifted back to the cute stoner with the crooked smile.
"I think you've got a fan" your friend said.
Your eyes followed hers and landed on the stoner guy. He had been watching you without even trying to hide it.
Not looking away.
Not pretending he hadn't been caught.
Just watching.
You were curious and mischievous, so you stared back without breaking eye contact for several long seconds, until he finally looked away.
You couldn't help but smirk.
You always liked making guys uncomfortable, especially the ones you liked.
By the end of your second cigarette, it felt like a shame to go back inside and lose sight of him, but when Whatsername by Green Day started playing through the speakers, you felt the urge to sing along.
You were halfway through the second verse when a voice interrupted your singing.
"You definitely look like a Green Day kind of girl," he said.
"I'll take that as a compliment," you replied, tucking your hair behind your right ear and knowing exactly what you were doing. "Are you a Green Day kind of boy?"
"In every possible way, pretty" he laughed.
It was the kind of laugh that made your stomach betray you. The kind that immediately told you it was trouble. The fun kind of trouble.
"I'm Frank."
"Cute." you said it so casually that he widened his eyes before laughing out loud.
"So you think I'm cute?"
"Sure." you smirked. "And your name somehow makes you seem even cuter."
"Are you with anyone, or...?"
His curious eyes wandered across your face as if you were some kind of artwork.
“You mean… If I’m with anyone?” you watched him nod slowly, wearing the dumbest smile. He was definitely high. "No. Not really."
"So do you like cute guys?"
"All cool girls like cute guys."
Something lit up in his eyes. You had him.
"Do you like cool girls?" you asked.
"Yeah. I also like pretty girls and for the record, I think you're the prettiest girl at this party." he gave you a smug smile that somehow still looked vulnerable.
You felt like you could eat him alive.
"Probably the prettiest girl I've ever seen."
You gave him a nasty look, letting him know how unbearable that sounded, and took his beer can from his cold, tattooed hands.
You took a long, painful sip on it before giving it back and turning your back on him as the song was about to end.
You knew he’d follow you, which is exactly what he did. Once outside again, you found a safe spot far from most people, a place in between the parked cars.
You lit a cigarette as you leaned your back on someone’s dirty Corolla and watched Frank stumble on his own feet as he walked his way to you like a lost puppy.
God, you were loving it.
You didn’t say a word and offered him your own cigar when he was close enough, giving him a hungry look as he reached it.
“At first look I thought you were too goofy,” you said. “You know? But now, looking again, you seem annoyingly adorable."
“I thought you said I was cute.”
“Isn’t it the same thing?”
“As long as you like it,” he took a step in your direction, “and as long as it guarantees I have a chance of… You know… Getting to know you better.”
“You don’t wanna know me better, I’m fucking trouble. But you already know it, right?” now you took a step in his direction.
“All New York folks are trouble,” he said.
You could now feel the warmth of his body as you slowly stepped back to lean on the car, and he followed you, gently pressing his body against yours.
You tilted your head to reach for his lips without losing sight of the stupid hot smirk he gave you. When you finally touched, Frank raised his hands to both sides of your waist and let out a long sigh in between your kiss once he finally touched you.
Smiling in between the hot kisses you shared, you felt the air thicker and hotter with each passing second, being unable to control the urge of letting a few wet moans fill Frank’s lips.
You felt him getting harder and bigger while pressing you against the cold car, and your legs started to tremble when he slid his cold hands inside your shirt.
“You’re not fucking me here outdoors, but you got 10 seconds to figure out where you can.” you said breaking the kiss for the first time.
Frank laughed loudly, and it took him just 3 seconds to recompose himself and stare at you with starry needy eyes.
He didn’t say a word but gave you a wide smile and started walking between the parked cars when, at some point, he took his car keys from the back pocket and unlocked an old Toyota, guiding you inside it on the front passenger seat.
Frank entered the car on the driver's seat but didn’t give you time to ask where you were heading to, simply throwing his body over you as he reclined your seat and started kissing you again.
This time he seemed more desperate, hungry even. His hands ran all over your body as if he wasn’t sure it was real.
Grabbing, nailing, and pinching, it was a messy way to gain more and more moans out of you in between kisses.
When you couldn’t hold it back anymore and took out the belt on his already tight pants, he moaned loudly inside your mouth, taking a few seconds to let his lazy eyes take a good look at you again.
“You’re so fucking pretty, jeez."
The small space between the car made everything feel even hotter, his devoted eyes, his whimpering and troublesome hands.
As your moans got louder and louder and bottom clothes went missing, he kept pressing his body against you as if he could come just by it.
The situation made it pretty clear that both of you were in sync and foreplay wasn’t much needed.
Frank held you tight and warm that Saturday night in his car for the first time, making you reach your most delicious peak so easily you felt ridiculous.
When you had enough of the sloppy and wet kisses and both could finally breathe again, Frank sat back in the driver's seat and opened the windows.
You shared a joint and spent hours talking about your lives, likes, and dislikes.
Frank was from New Jersey and was heading back home in 2 days. He liked dogs, worked on a tattoo shop and played on a band. He sang along to all your favorite Green Day songs and took you home.
You never told him your name. He did ask, but you'd rather not. He saved your contact as Whatsername.
Frank was adorable, which made him an absolute no.
No ever meeting again, no ever sleeping together again. No ever meeting your parents and no, absolutely no, never, giving him your sour heart.
Yet, when you got home and laid down on your bed, putting your phone off on the bedside table, you couldn't help but wonder if he’d ever call you again.
Omg quiet shy basement Gerard but in a mental hospital with a female readerrrrr
INSTITUTIONALIZED
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pairing: gerard way x female reader
summary: you meet him while in a mental institution, shy and silent, and start to finally enjoy a bit of your time here.
notes: THE NAME IS FROM THE SUICIDAL TENDENCIES SONG. Im sorry if i portrayed anything incorrectly. I tried my best with no previous experience and im sure they would not be allowed to get this close in an actual facility but like this is fanfiction its fake i cant be perfect idk
word count: 2106
FLUFF BELOW THE CUT!
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He shuffled in the same pattern every day, up and down the hall outside of his room, muttering to himself. You sat in your doorway, chewing your cheek, watching him pass you for the thirteenth time today without noticing you. You weren't sure why they let him do this - but as long as it made him feel better, you guessed it was okay.
On the seventeenth pass, his eyes shifted up from the floor, catching yours for a moment. You gave him a small, awkward smile, and his shoulder length black hair fell back into his eyes as he shifted away. He was right back to pacing. Your smile fell. Damn, you tried.
You retired back to your room, sighing and flopping down onto the shitty, thin mattress. As you stared up at the ceiling, your roommate came in, shoving chips into her mouth at mock speed.
"Fuck," she groans, standing in the corner and indulging on her own. It was kind of her thing - she was always first in the commissary line - she needed her sour cream and onion chips. After talking to her for a while, you learned it was her replacement for other addictions. Two snack sized bags of sour cream and onion Lays a day curbs drug cravings, apparently. When she told you, you shrugged, nodding. Whatever works.
You were forcefully admitted by your therapist last week for depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts. This hospital felt a lot like a prison. Matching outfits, everything fenced and guarded to avoid jumping, floppy stationery to avoid injury. You hadn't taken up your favorite hobby of drawing since arriving because you couldn't handle the phallic nature of the provided pen.
It was honestly terrible. Many people see these places as a mental break, an eden of calm and solace - but that is because they've never been. This place is made to make you appreciate seeing the sun. A warm meal that doesn't taste like dog surgery. The touch of another. Shoelaces. The chill of an afternoon breeze brushing through your hair.
By depriving you of all of these things, they think they're making you dream of the outside world - and while it worked to an extent at making you dream of real life and comfort - being in a concrete prison like this made you want to die more than being outside ever did. Every time you thought you were almost free, you were placed on another 72 hour hold for evaluation. It was bullshit.
The only thing that kept you entertained was the pacing boy. You could hear his slippers drag on the shitty linoleum floor past your door every two minutes. You counted the seconds. With his pace, it took him exactly two minutes. He had it down to a science.
In the rec-room, he didn't ever move from the couch, eyes trained on the TV. Today, you felt bold, and you shuffled over to the couch, plopping down next to him. His mouth thinned into a line at your closeness.
"Hi, I'm Y/N." You say softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. He doesn't look away from the TV, and you chew the inside of your cheek and grind your teeth awkwardly, fighting off an audible sigh. Once again, you tried.
You decided to just sit in silence with him, crossing your legs and tuning into Dr. Phil. You hated the guy, he was a fucking fraud, but if anything distracted you from being stuck inside of these walls, you'd take it.
You heard him chuckle a bit under his breath, a huff of air puffing through his nose and teeth, his expression never changing. You glanced over, a small smile on your lips, before looking back to the TV.
"I think she just needs to get her ass kicked a little bit," you sigh, not expecting him to respond. He cracks a small smirk on the side of his face that you can't see. "But, I think it's all the Mom's fault."
He pulls his arms to his chest, not acknowledging your opinion, but listening all the same. Eventually, you let out a light laugh, and he looks at you out of the corner of his eye, enjoying the sound of your joy. After a few more minutes, you leave him alone without a goodbye, wandering off to go play Apples to Apples (which fucking sucked.) He thought about you for the rest of the day. He couldn't help it.
He had a bit of a problem with obsession. He wasn't diagnosed with anything yet since his admission last month, but things took over his mind without permission frequently, and he knew it was a problem. After seeing you smile, it was all he could think about. He wanted to make it happen again. His previous fixations were the movie scripts of Kill Bill and The Devils Rejects- he walked up and down the halls muttering them to himself by memory. Sometimes you could hear him whisper "Tutti fuckin' frutti." It made you crack a smile even on a bad day. Normally he got to that part of the script when he reached your doorway on lap fifty two.
Now all he could think of was you. There was nothing to mutter with that, but he still paced past your door, each time peeking in to get a look at you in a way that he thought was discreet. It wasn't. By lap twenty five on Thursday, you met him in the doorway, hoping he would stop. He finally did after you stood there for three more laps, and you were face to face with him, his body towering over yours, greasy hair in his eyes.
"Gerard," he says quietly, "That's my name." He stirs for a moment and walks off quickly before you can respond, leaving you brushing your hair behind your ear and blushing. Gerard. Unique. You smile.
The next day at lunch, you sit next to him at his lonely table, and not a word is said other than "Hey, Gerard." You eat in silence, clear most of the mush off of your plate, and leave him with his thoughts once again.
Today, in rec, you saw him scribbling on a small notepad with one of the phallic pens provided. You plop down next to him as you both listen to Dr. Phil again. He kept his sketchpad hidden, curled up in a ball with his knees to his chest, using them as a desk.
"Hey, Gerard." You said, becoming routine, not even looking over at him. You watch the TV as he draws, until the curiosity begins to eat you alive. "What are you drawing?"
He freezes for a second, chewing the inside of his cheek with a huff through his nose - presumably of embarrassment. "Nothing."
Hearing his voice was cathartic, a relief in this concrete hell, a breath of fresh air inside of prison-like walls.
"Okay." You say quietly, looking away again, accepting it. You'd gotten very good at just taking things how they are since arriving. Nothing really mattered. After a few minutes, Gerard's sketchpad is in the lap of your crossed legs. You glance down, and it is your own face in ballpoint pen, your heart skipping a beat.
"Wait, um... is that me?" You say, looking up at him. His face is a hilarious shade of red, and as he flushes he looks away, nodding.
"Y-Yeah."
"This is so cool, Gerard. Can I keep it, or do you want it?"
"I want it." He says, pulling it back to his lap, glancing over at you. "You'll leave soon."
"Is there any way we can get in contact with each other?" You say, scooting a bit closer, body facing him now. He swallowed thickly.
"Myspace." He says quickly. He rips out the page behind his drawing of you, scribbling intensely before handing you the paper. "I won't be able to respond."
"Yeah, they take everything, I get it. But honestly, I hope you're out before me." You shove the paper into your pocket.
He lets out a dry laugh, looking away. "Right."
"I mean it. You deserve to be free."
He pauses for a moment, looking up at the TV.
"And you don't?"
"I don't know."
"Hah," he chuckles, a real laugh escaping his lips around you for the first time. "You do too."
There's an awkward silence for a moment as you look away from him, and he swallows awkwardly. He had to make you smile again.
"You..."
"Huh?" You say, glancing over, trying to coax him into finishing his sentence. He needed time, and that was fine.
"You are beautiful." He says, quickly standing and backing away from the couch. A smile grew on your lips, and his eyes widened with excitement as he stepped away. "I have to... I, sorry. Bye."
He stalks away, making his way to the hallway, where you knew exactly what he would do.
Later that day, you heard a light knock on your doorframe, and your eyes snapped up from your book. A small smile came onto your lips when you saw it was him.
"Hey, Gerard!" You say, swinging your legs over the bedside. You hadn't kept up with his laps since you were reading.
"H-hey," he says, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed uncomfortable with the sound of his own voice. "Um, yeah. Hey."
"Good to see you again." You say, standing, folding a dog ear in your book.
"What are you reading?" He says, voice soft, and you bring your book over to him.
"Some mental health shit my Grandpa got me. It's not bad." You handed him a copy of No Bad Parts by Richard C. Schwartz. "When i finish it, I'll lend it to you."
"Cool," he says breathlessly, thumbing through it. After a little silence of him reading a small excerpt of the book, he asks, "Um, do you like comics?"
"Yeah," you say, a small smile on your lips. You looked over your shoulder - your roommate was fast asleep, plush llama in her arm, a bag of chips next to her head on her pillow. You turn back to him. "I do. My favorite is Johnny the Homicidal Maniac. I like anything by Jhonen Vasquez."
His eyes widen slightly. "Um, cool. I'm more into Alan Moore, Watchmen, myself. Dave Gibbons' art is fuckin' amazing." He says, shifting in your doorway and leaning against it. "Hmm. You like Spawn?"
"Eh. A little overrated."
He scoffs. "Overrated? It's fucking iconic." A bit of personality comes out in his voice, his offense tantalizing, as if you'd never understand his stance. You smirk.
"I've read it all up to my admission. Didn't necessarily impress me, but I've liked it enough to keep up, I guess."
Gerard's mind wanders back to his walls of shelves of collected comics back home in the basement, frowning slightly. It would be a while before he read them again.
"What, so you like Bone?"
"Bone is fucking legendary."
"Sure." He laughs lightly, from the top of his belly. "Bone is for middle schoolers."
You scoff. "Well I guess I'm fucking eleven years old."
"Ew, no, take that back." He laughs, crinkles by his eyes as he smiles. You hadn't even seen his teeth yet, he'd been so silent. It was refreshing to see a genuine smile.
"What, you don't find my taste cute?"
He leans against the doorway, arms crossed as he towers over you. "I do. That's why I need to stay the fuck away from you."
"You seem to be having a very hard time doing so."
"I am." He shifts slightly. "I wish I could take you on a date, or somethin'... anything not here. Good food. Good music."
"You talk a big game for someone who has been on hold since I got here."
He laughs. "Yeah. I'm a fucking danger to society."
You grin up at him, leaning closer.
"A danger to me, for sure."
He flinches slightly away from your touch as you place your hand on his chest. He licks his lips, looking down at you.
"I want..."
"To kiss me?"
"Yeah."
You lean up, standing on your toes, giving him a soft peck to the lips.
"No touching!" The security guard in the hall shouts, and you step back with a panic as he looks at you with a dazed expression, unmoving.
"Dr. Phil tomorrow?"
"I'd like that." Gerard says, his cheeks bright red as he backs away. "Tomorrow."
He makes his way down the hall to his room, muttering, and you follow him with your eyes, smiling to yourself.
Gerard coming home from work and catching reader watching porn on her laptop when she was home alone......... and then punishing her by sitting her naked on his lap and going through her history and making her watch the videos with him, making her embarassed and horny and not letting her touch herself because good girls shouldn't keep secret from her daddies sigh.... anddd send request!
an: thats my shit right there. holy cow best request ever and all my requests are fucking awesome
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gerard pushed open the front door after a long day at work, loosening his tie with a heavy sigh. the house felt quiet at first but then he heard it, faint moans and the wet rhythmic sounds of porn coming from the living room. his jaw clenched as he walked closer, staying silent on the carpet.
there you were, his sweet little crybaby curled up on the couch wearing nothing but one of his shirts pulled up around your waist, laptop on your thighs, one hand desperately rubbing between your legs, eyes locked on the screen completely lost in it. you hadnt noticed him yet.
he stood there for a long moment watching the way your body twitched and your breath hitched, heat building in his own gut before he finally cleared his throat loudly.
you jumped hard, nearly dropping the laptop as you slammed it shut, face instantly turning bright red. “oh my god gerard youre home early, i i was just cleaning up i swear.”
“save it baby,” he said, voice low and controlled, crossing the room in a few strides. he took the laptop from your shaky hands and set it on the coffee table. “strip everything off right now.”
your eyes went wide already filling with embarrassed tears. “but daddy- please i didnt mean for you to see-”
“now.” he repeated firmly, patting his lap after he sat down on the couch, thighs spread wide.
you obeyed with trembling fingers, pulling off the shirt and panties until you were completely naked and vulnerable, crawling onto his lap, straddling him so your bare pussy pressed against the growing bulge in his work pants. his strong hands settled on your hips holding you still as he reached for the laptop again, opening it back up.
the browser history loaded and his eyebrows raised as he scrolled through page after page of filthy videos. your face burned hotter with every title that appeared.
“look at all this,” he murmured, one arm wrapping securely around your waist to keep you from hiding while the other clicked on the most recent one. the video started playing, loud moans filling the room as the scene showed a girl tied up and teased mercilessly by a dominant figure edging her over and over without mercy, the camera close up on her desperate squirming and dripping arousal.
you whimpered, burying your face against his shoulder but he caught your chin gently but firmly, tilting your head back toward the screen. “eyes open crybaby, watch it with daddy just like you were doing when i caught you.”
“gerard p-please im so embarrassed,” you whispered, voice cracking as the video continued with the girl begging incoherently for release only to be denied again, her body shaking with need.
“embarrassed,” he repeated teasingly, clicking to the next one in your history. this one was even darker, a long scene of intense humiliation where the girl was made to confess all her dirty secrets on camera while being fingered and denied orgasm after orgasm. the dirty talk from the video was raw and degrading, calling her a pathetic little slut for getting wet from her own shame. “you were touching yourself to this while i was working all day baby. fuck, i love knowing my sweet girl gets off on this shit.”
tears pricked your eyes as you squirmed on his lap, feeling yourself get even wetter against his pants, the embarrassment mixing with arousal in the worst way. “i i dont know why i like it, it just makes me feel-”
“makes you feel what?” he asked, voice teasing as he started another video. this one focused on a slow teasing punishment scene where the girl was sat on her partners lap just like you were now, forced to watch her own recorded masturbation session while he commented on every filthy detail describing how desperate and soaked she looked.
you let out a soft sob, hips twitching helplessly but his grip tightened, stopping you from grinding down. “good girls dont get to rub themselves during punishment,” he reminded you with a low chuckle, clearly enjoying how worked up she was getting, “especially not when theyve been keeping such nasty secrets from daddy. but we both know you love when i catch you like this, dont you my little masochist.”
“daddy i-i promise ill delete it all,” you tried, voice small and shaky as the video played on, the girl on screen crying from overstimulation and humiliation, begging to be allowed to cum while her partner laughed and made her repeat how much she loved being exposed like this.
“delete it,” he chuckled darkly, scrolling deeper into your history, his tone playful and teasing rather than upset. “oh no baby, were going through every single one. look at this one,” he clicked play on a particularly long video involving heavy power exchange, the dominant making the submissive edge herself for hours, describing in detail how her pussy clenched and leaked every time she thought about being caught and punished. the moans were loud and broken, the closeups showing every twitch and drip.
“were you watching shit like this when you were growing up,” he asked conversationally, his free hand stroking slowly up your inner thigh stopping just before he touched your puffy clit, clearly amused and turned on by her reactions. “is that what my innocent little crybaby was doing all alone back then, touching her pretty pussy to fucked up videos like these, imagining someone catching her and making her confess everything. i bet it made you so wet knowing its so dirty.”
you shook your head quickly, tears slipping down your cheeks but your body betrayed you, clenching visibly at his words. “no no i started later i swear, but it always made me so ashamed and horny at the same time.”
he clicked another one, a detailed scene of lap punishment, a gir being spanked, full of mocking praise calling her a secret masochist who craved the embarrassment.
“fuck, listen to that,” he said, voice low against your ear, teasing and affectionate. “sounds familiar doesnt it, my little masochist getting soaked just from daddy finding out what kind of nasty porn she hides. look how wet you are, dripping all over my pants while we watch this shit together. you love this humiliation, dont you baby.”
“please daddy i cant take it anymore,” she whined, trying to close her legs but he spread them wider with his knees, keeping you fully exposed and pressed against his hard cock.
“you can and you will,” he replied firmly but with clear teasing warmth, starting yet another video. this one even more intense with prolonged teasing and verbal degradation, the girl on screen sobbing as she admitted every twisted fantasy while being edged mercilessly. “you kept all these secrets from me baby. good girls dont do that. good girls wait for daddy to come home and take care of their needy little cunt instead of sneaking around like this. but damn if it doesnt make me hard knowing how much you crave getting caught and teased for it.”
the conversation stretched on as he went through more videos, each one prompting new questions, all delivered in that playful, humiliating tone because he knew exactly how soaked it made you. “did you touch yourself thinking about me doing this to you or was it just random strangers online making you feel this dirty, hm? how many times a day were you watching stuff like this when i wasnt home? tell daddy the truth baby.”
you answered between soft embarrassed sobs and whimpers, confessing bits and pieces as the videos played on, never letting you touch yourself or find relief, just keeping you there naked and throbbing on his lap the whole time.
after what felt like forever going through the entire filthy history he finally closed the laptop, setting it aside. your body was trembling with unreleased tension, face streaked with tears and pussy aching from all the denial.
you broke then, just sobbing openly against his chest, overwhelmed by the humiliation and the intense need he had built up.
“shh, shh its okay baby,” he whispered, immediately switching to gentle mode, his arms wrapping around you fully, pulling you close against his chest. one hand rubbing slow soothing circles on your back, the other stroking your hair. “daddy has you now. no more secrets okay. i love you just like this even when you’re just a filthy little masochist.” he teased, giving your head an affectionate scratch.
you kept crying softly into his shirt as he rocked you gently, kissing the top of your head and murmuring soft praises. “youre my good girl, just a needy little thing hm?”
he held you like that for a long time, letting you sob it all out until the tears slowed and you felt safe and small and loved in his arms again, the punishment melting into tender aftercare as he continued whispering how perfect you were to him.
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↪︎𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “After a month without seeing your boyfriend because he’s been on tour, you finally get to surprise him. And it seems he’s been a little.. frustrated..”
↪︎𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: established relationship, one-shot, MCR, gerard way, revenge!gee, smut
↪︎𝐀/𝐍: guys i know gee most likely would NOT do this and it’s unrealistic, but if i write with out an ask, it’s for MY pleasure so if you dont like it don’t read it 🩷🩷
You stand in the crowd full of people, sweat dripping down your skin. You were in San Francisco, and it was hot. It was also the middle of summer, which made it worse. But, if you got to see your boyfriend perform it made it better. Especially after a month without seeing each other.
There has been a lot of nudes sent, and a lot of sexting which is all you can say. And for you, your vibrator and Dildo have never been used more. And for Gerard, well his hands were definitely used a lot more than usual. But now, you’re surprising him. No more fake cock, hopefully a real one.
You look up at him performing, wondering how he hasn’t noticed you. The manager knows you very well of course, from all the calls last Warped Tour and you having to call the manager to take Gerard on a walk. So he got you barricade tickets. He’s been screaming and jumping around, but you notice he’s much more energetic when you’re at his shows.
You were on the shorter side, so maybe that’s why he couldn’t see you. You asked a fan if you could go on their shoulders, and of course they said yes considering you were their ‘cult leader’s’ long time girlfriend that saved his life. You smiled, watching him perform. Now, he has to be able to see you.
“If you were..” He sang, then looked directly at you. He trailed off for a second, but went back to singing. He smiled and gave a little wave to you, then went back to screaming and thrashing around. You were never a huge fan of the music, but of course you still moved a little bit.
You giggle to yourself, thinking about what would happen if you flash your tits to him. He’d probably be pissed, you shouldn’t. But on the other hand.. If he’s angry you get it rougher.. Oh fuck it, what’s he going to do? He may be bigger but he’s a total pussy.
You wait until he looks at you again. He thrashes his head right next to you, and you can feel the sweat flick on you. You wait until he’s looking back up at you again, and that’s when you do it. You lift your tank top up, your tits bouncing out. You didn’t wear any bra, because it would just be extra work for Gerard.
Gerard’s eyes widened but he still sang. He reached out to pull your tank top down, his thumb (very much on purpose) brushing against your nipple. You laughed, watching Gerard keep singing. He looked pissed, that’s for sure. You could already feel yourself soaking your little thong, hopefully this girl can’t feel the warmth spreading through your shorts.
It’s after the show, and you’re walking to backstage. The security guards instantly let you in, having a note from the manager obviously. You walked around, trying to find Gee. You started to get a little scared, what if he left already? What if h-
You get cut off when you feel someone smack your ass roughly. You turn around instantly with a smile on your face, already knowing it’s Gerard. He always slaps your ass. “Hi baby!” You exclaim, getting on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
He speaks, smiling slightly but the anger still evident in his face. “I just thought I’d surprise you. Couldn’t wait much longer.” You smile, running your hands through his greasy hair. You move your thigh a little bit, then feel something like a brick press against your inner thigh. Yep, as you expected.
“You just.. couldn’t wait till we got backstage huh? Gotta show your tits to everyone?” He says, not a single trace of a smile evident on his face. “I just thought I’d give you a sneak peek.” You smile, trying to crack a joke but he doesn’t laugh at all. “Yeah, it wasn’t really fucking funny.” He mumbles, grabbing your wrist and practically dragging you to the dressing room.
You bite your lip in anticipation of what’s gonna happen. You’re almost 100% sure you’re so wet you’re leaking through your tiny shorts. He shuts and locks the door behind you, then he’s instantly shoving you over the arm of the couch. “What the fuck was that out there?”
He scolds, bending you over. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to get your attention!” You say, trying to put on your best scared act. But you still arch your back and just try to get even the tiniest poke of his cock against your painfully aching pussy. “Well job accomplished, you have my fucking attention.” He spits out, grabbing a chunk of your hair from the scalp and pulling your head back.
You moan, looking up at him. “Open.” He commands. You open your mouth, letting your tongue loll out. He spits in your mouth, and it tastes like shit, probably because he most likely hasn’t brushed his teeth in days. You swallow it regardless though, thankful for anything from him. He lets go of your hair and lets your head fall forward, and before you can even function that, he’s pulling your jean shorts down.
You hold your breath, knowing he’s looking right at your skimpy little lacey thong. He hasn’t seen it yet, you bought it a few days ago. “Such a fucking slut, wearing a piece of string.” He says, giving your ass a firm smack. You whimper, arching your back more for more. Instead of smacking it again, he yanks your thong down to your knees.
A string of your milky clear arousal connects your slit to the rest of the wetness soaking your thong. “You’re soaking just seeing me. You’re a fucking cunt.” He says, giving your aching pussy a firm smack. You moan, your knees turning inward slightly. “You missed me huh? Missed my cock? All your dildo’s and vibrators can’t compare to the real thing can they baby?”
He whispers in your ear, throwing his belt on the dressing room floor some where. “M-mhm..” You hummed, just wanting him pounding you already. “Use your words.” He speaks firmly, pulling his jeans down to his mid-thigh. “Yes..” You say shakily, getting a tiny glimpse at the huge bulge in his boxers.
Your pussy leaks out a little bit more of wetness just at the sight of it. “Been thinkin’ about your little tight pussy all tour.. My hand just doesn’t compare..” He mumbles, pulling his blue boxers down, and you can hear his cock slap against his pudgy tummy. You almost moan just at hearing it. “Please..”
You beg, desperate. “Please what?” He asks, teasing you. “Please fuck me..” You moan, getting impatient. “I guess, since you’ve been a bit better..” He says, but you know he’s also impatient also. And the second you feel his thick, leaking tip rub against your folds, you swear you lose your mind.
You moan, feeling his leaking head nudge between your folds as he grinds his slit against your puffy clit. “Gerard please!” You moan, your hands gripping the couch cushion. He doesn’t respond, but instead just gives your sopping pussy a few slaps with his girthy length. You’re about to start sobbing until you feel his abnormally thick head press at your entrance.
“Oh god.. fuck..” He groans, slowly but surely pressing into your tight hole. You moan, his cock stretching your tiny hole perfectly. You feel him push deeper in, and you get more and more full with every inch he basically squeezes in. Your legs tremble, feeling his tip press against your cervix as he’s about balls deep.
You’re a bit disappointed that he’s going slow, and you’re about to ask him to go fast, but then you feel him quickly pull out until he’s basically falling out of you, then he slams back in. You practically scream, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He moans loudly, repeatedly copying that move as his balls slap against your ass loudly with each rough thrust.
“Fuck Gerard!” You moan, your pussy clenching his dick like a vice. You feel him grip your hips, his love handles pounding abnormally fast in and out of you. He pants and moans, and he can feel himself about to cum. He’s always been a little embarrassed with how fast he can cum, but he knows you don’t really care.
“Oh god I’m gonna cum..” He moans, his hips snapping more and more harder. “Me too!” You moaned, your walls squeezing him so tightly he could barely move any more. He groans, shooting hot, thick, deep ropes inside you. You moan loudly, cumming right after.
He pulls out slowly, watching his cum drip out of you. How the fuck are you guys gonna clean up?
i got a new job. this is totally not inspired by it. not at all. mikey is totally not an insert for the cute door dash guy i met.
also shoutout that one interview where mikey said he likes pizza.
tags: mikey way x reader, fluff, sfw, drabble, gn!reader
ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃
"Is that it?" you asked the man across the counter. You looked at his current order. Fucking Christ. You've worked at this place for a while now, and you've never seen a list this long. Hell, you had to actually scroll down to view everything.
Despite your poor attempts at masking your judgement, your eyes couldn't help but carry a look of concern. The man could tell you were making mental commentary about him.
"...No," he said with a sigh, as if he was disappointed with himself. You had to physically restrain yourself from having a reaction.
"Can I- Uh... Just one more pepperoni, please", he said politely, like manners could socially save him from this awkward ass situation.
You typed the extra pizza in, looking up from your register after, hoping (for the both of you) that that was the last item. When he gave no response, you read the list to him.
"Alright. So you've got," you scrolled back up to the top of the screen, then mustered up the cheeriest tone you could, "two pepperonis, three cheese, one hawaiian, one everything with stuffed crust, four breadsticks, and two garlic knots." You held your breath, praying that you didn't miss anything, and trying to stop yourself from laughing at how ridiculous his order was.
The man nodded his head, his lips pursed. You displayed the price on the register, to which he promptly paid... in cash. Wow. This really couldn't get any rougher. You had to give it to him, he was pretty good at counting coins.
You handed him his receipt. He thanked you for it and started walking away from the counter — though not before leaving a couple dollars in your tip jar. There was a whole policy your company had about tips, but with you being the closer for the night, and the absolutely insane order this guy was giving you minutes before closing, you told yourself it was ok to pocket what was left for you that night.
While baking the... you lost count, actually. Anyway, while baking the fifty billion things the guy got, you couldn't help but overhear him on the phone, presumably with his friends.
"Y-Yeah, I'll be home soon I just-" He was doing a bad job at keeping his voice down.
"Ok, well you guys wanted like thirty things! I'm not gonna be outta here until like... I dunno, the next fucking day."
There was silence as the other person on the line spoke.
"You guys are all talking at once."
Ok, other people on the line, then.
"Frank just shut the hell up! Okay? Get Gerard on the line Jesus fucking Christ..."
You couldn't help but giggle to yourself. You had to admit, it was pretty entertaining hearing this shy dude be suddenly so lively on the phone, even if he was getting a bit agitated.
"Hey, Gee. I was just tryna let you kn- ...Yes. Yes, I got your hawaiian. Now where's- Did you just fucking hang up on me? Hello? Oh my G- Oh! Hey, Ray. God, you're the only sane person in that room right now..."
The man had lowered his voice quite significantly, so you shifted work stations to hear him better. Waiting on the breadsticks to bake, you stood at the prep station to make some more dough.
"I mean, it's kinda embarrassing, y'know? Like, I feel really bad... They're closing, and I just ordered a buncha shit... Now I just look like a fatass, just buying all this stuff for myself."
He was right. You did kinda think he was getting all this just for himself. After all, he was ordering alone. And he was the last customer of the night.
"And to make things worse," he swallowed before speaking again, "w-well... they're kinda cute."
You froze at that. Surely he's not talking about you...? Okay, maybe you judged him too harshly earlier. You had to admit, he was pretty polite, and not bad-looking either. Besides, he left a tip. A shitty tip, but a tip nonetheless.
"Yeah, I tipped. It was a bad tip though..." Hey, at least he was self aware.
"Well if you guys gave me more cash then- What? I'm not desperate! Hey, even if they weren't hot, I would've tipped them anyway. It's not like I'm paying for them to give me a shot. I mean, I'd like it but-"
"You're all set!" you called out, plopping the man's boxes on the counter.
He froze, turning to you, a red hue flooding his face. "I'll see you later," he quickly said to whoever he was calling before snapping his phone shut and hanging up.
The man walked over to you, thanking you as he picked up the boxes. An idea came into your mind. "Oh- hold on!" You ran to get some napkins, leaving his sight. You pulled a shitty knock-off Sharpie out from a random drawer, scribbling your number on the bottom napkin.
You returned to the counter, placing the pile of napkins on top of the boxes. You flashed him a smile, and he gave you one back.
"Thanks, have a good night," he called out as he began to leave the pizza shop.
"You too," you replied, watching him walk out the door.
You woke up the next morning to two new texts from an unknown number.
hii sweet baby anon, yes yes my beautiful ray toro!!! i got a really nice ask last night for ray so thatll come next. love u all!! kisses ♥︎_♥︎
• he found you really cool and unknowingly he chased you down at the end of their shows, one of their first in jersey
• you thought he was cute and decided to give it a shot, it had been a while since you dated anyone ever since your last break up
• on your first date, he did everything right opening your door, laughing at all your jokes, complimenting you. although you were a bit shy at first the both of you opened up to each other after a while
• he was always at a show or practice, making time for you but it was never enough he was always too busy
• but you guys made it work, he always always invited you to band practice and took you back to his place afterwards. made sure his friends knew their place with you and had them be on their best behavior
• once the band took off, he made sure you came on tour with him. he couldnt handle being far away from you for so long so the only reasonable choice is bringing you with him! he makes sure your all taken care of while on the super! nasty! tour! bus!
• the kindest boyfriend ever, he still acts like just how he did when you guys started dating. peppering your face and neck with kisses, complimenting you every morning and night. “baby,, baby youre so cute, come lay with me sweet girl i can take such good care of you,,cmon bunny” ALL. NIGHT. LONG.
• buys you everything and anything you want. you pick up a necklace? he has the receipt in hand! you skim some skirts? he has bought you every type!
• me thinks,, acts of service & words of affirmation. he will do everything at the snap of your fingers and praise you til the world ends.
• you show him the same amount of love all the time but he always ends up one uping you ♥︎
• you guys are always together and attached at the hip, he wouldnt have it any other way!!!
