2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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★
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Misplaced Lens Cap
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@desperatendeprived
🎲/dice/dee, 19, he/she blog for horny thoughts and mcr x reader stuff, sometimes dddne inbox is open for fic request and love letters...
tags:
desperate n deprived - all my posts
dee writes - my writing
delivery for dee - asks sent to me
deesigns - my moodboards
🎲 - asks i sent in
dee digresses - off topic
writing masterlist
claimed anons
Orgasming isn’t the climax of sex it’s actually when you’re done and sore and shaking and they’re shushing you and rubbing your back and pushing their thumb in your mouth to soothe you until you fall asleep
smth smth lynz forcefemming g b/c her clit (dick) doesn't get hard anymore (meds/age/wtvr)
i think this should be w the sheriff during pro rev. given the whole everything going on at those shows g was basically begging to be dicked down and given the whole everything going on in between those shows lynz should be the one to do it. the way their clit won't get hard is just more proof that they aren't a real man like they pretend to be on stage, they're a sweet little lady who needs lynz to show them how a real dick works
some light reading
scary email from tumblr abt explicit content on my blog but it turns out they were just upset at ray toro beer bong blow job
just orgasmed standing up for the first time and wow my knees feel weird now
please save me gerard way big naturals in an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini
You belong in my trunk with your wrists and ankles ziptied together and duct tape over your mouth
Her smile really lit up the room
nicotine patch for the summer (step dad frank x reader) pt.3
step dad frank x reader tw; dddne elements. he is your actual step dad. but nothing in what i would call the danger zone. you do some shit (sex) in public, he's a little rough. this one is cute though. w/c: 1420 LOL I CANT WRITE SOMETHING SHORT TO SAVE MY LIFE love u
Walking home, the air is dry. Your lungs feel chalky, your skin drying out with every moment passing. You can’t really speed up and you’re too exhausted to care. You give in. Finding shade under a tree. Then you you pull out your phone and text frank. It’ll be fine, right?
Hey, come get me? Drop a pin. where. .. idiot.
You didn’t tell him you were going out, you just did. He wasn’t awake yet- and screw you for wanting a walk on your day off. On his day off. He gets there in under twenty. Seems fine.
The car is busted, it putts down the corner as he rolls around to you, he’s smoking a cigarette. He drops it when he spots you, patting the car loudly with two harsh slams. “Cmon, were doin’ something”.
Your legs stick to the leather seat when you slip in the passengers side, the denim of your shorts riding up to expose the length of your legs and thighs. It’s too fucking hot to argue about it.
He speeds off, you make something thats close enough to a conversation as you ride out on the motorway. How was work, why did you get up so early?, how’s your head? Meeting friends, fixing the porch light. And its good, nothing’s really changed, you like laughing at his jokes, you like looking at him like he’s something- a degree further from you.
You take a step out of your body and imagine what people who look at you think, and you can’t think of anything bad. When you reach a stop light, you take a long shot and lean over and kiss his cheek. Thanks for comin’ t’get me. He blushes, like a school boy and winks like a grown man. “I’ll always come get you-“
You pull in to a movie theatre just out of town and you beam. You’ve never been here before, but frank seems pleased with his surprise date day. Date day? Father daughter day? Who knows. “There's a new one- something about space, you wanna see?” You squeeze his hand before he turns to unlock the door. A silent yes. He chokes before he keeps speaking. “I uh-already got tickets, s’is not like your getting a choice anyway” you cackle, biting your tongue and not making a dirty old man joke. You bound out of the car and rush to meet him around at the other side, but he’s holding out a sweater of his-blocking your path
.Huh? “You’ll get cold, kid. Take it-“ its fucking; boiling, c’mon nah-is’chill- “take the fuckin’ sweater-“ dude-m’fine- “im not some fucking dude, im your dad and im saying it’ll get cold. Now-“
He shoves it over your head with one hand, the other keeping your shoulders in place. You’re surrounded in a cocoon of him, the smell of him, until he tugs loosely at your hair to pull your head through. Dad says you’ll get cold. You panic at the sensation you get in your gut. You think he’s right, you also consider the length of your shorts, the cut of your shirt, and the possessive words frank's taken to whispering when he’s 6 inches deep in you. You let him dress you, and mumble an effable wh-whatever when he ruffles your hair when he’s done.
The theatre is old, high ceilings and 80’s sticky carpets. But it smells like popcorn and sweet drinks, and you give in for a moment, tugging at the length of his flannel shirt to get his attention. Get me a drink? He doesn’t say anything, he just nods and guides you to a counter with a hand on the small of your back. Walking you directly in front of him.
Just before you reach the ever glowing pre-teen incel-like mass at the confection stand he whispers at the back of your neck, “right now, m’your boyfriend-not not your dad, kay?” And you’re shocked at how easy it is to think of him that way. You let your sweater clad gut bump into the desk, and speak easy. Hi, how are ya? Can I get aaaaaaa’ diet coke, large- actually make that two- right frank? And a large popcorn? You want anything honey?
You flip your hair over your shoulder, locking eyes with frank as he turns more red by the second. But then he realises what he said, then follows up to what you said, and smiles at the apathetic concept of a teenage boy in front of you both. He then kisses the crown of your head and says “nah you got it hun, thats all”
It takes all the energy you can muster not to break out in a fit of giggles, and he looks like he’s at the same space as the boy hands you the card reader. You almost burst into hysterics when you shake your head childishly. Your mind chanting every variation of the word daddy you can think of. Frank pays for it, and before you get caught laughing at what is seemingly nothing, you guys sprint into the cinema screen elbow to elbow.
The screen is cold. Your legs stick to the seat in a different way. Franks puffs out a long sigh when you giggle at the memory of the interaction. He tugs your legs over the arm of the chair so your feet are in his lap again. As much contact as he can have, always. He drags a palm up your leg. You make a grabby motion with your hand for your drink and he hums “mhm honey-“ and passes it to you.
The lights go down, slow as ever, and you lock eyes with frank as you sip at your drink, lips wrapped around the straw, your upper lip sweaty and face flushed. He keeps you locked on him, and the mouths over good girl for dad, baby just as the room drops too black. Your thighs twitch, he puts a hand there to steady them.
It moves quick, the movie and you, as you shift in your seat when you realise that the cinema is a) pretty empty and b) fucking pitch black.
You get on your keens in front of him after 15 minutes of pretend footsie. He nearly bats your hand away before you whisper over, just loud enough let me dad, you made me lie s’bad today- you can almost almost see him thud his head on the wall behind him. You knew he was hard when he tugged the sweater onto you.
You take him in your mouth as quietly as you can, but he’s done this before. He bucks into the back of your throat and wraps a hand around the base of your neck, keeping him down your throat. he bucks his hips into the wet plush there. fucking your face with virtually no sound heard. You don’t choke anymore, not like the first time. You feel him toy with your earlobe, he strokes at the side of your face, and when he gets close, he flicks your cheek with a harsh thud. He can’t stop himself moaning take it, take it as he fucks into your passage. You rear back, and he sticks his thumb onto your tongue with one hand, pulling down your sweater with the other so you drool onto your chest. He hums like he’s hearing a good song, and maybe he is. The movie isn’t done.
You sit there for another 10 minutes, keeping him warm. What? The cinema is cold. When you move to wipe him off of your décolletage, he swats your hand away, and bundles you into his lap. “Dad says no, kid. Keep the mark on, hm?”
The rest of the movie is good, you think, you couldn’t care. You puff out long sleepy sighs on his chest for the latter half, and eventually wake up in the passenger seat again, franks flannel draped over your thighs.
When you twist your eyes open, he looks over a smiles. He moves a hand up your calf- then slips a finger under the seam of your shorts too dip into your cunt. “Wanna be dad’s lil’ girlfriend from now on, baby?”
You moan as you wrap a hand around his wrist to push his fingers deeper into you. Perversion, though uncomfortable- is so much better shared, you nod up and down so fast- it’s like you’re trying to shake the innocence off of you.
wait i wanna campaign for best bj everyone vote ray
alright day ten no mcr who’s best at sucking dick
gerard
frank
mikey
ray
smth smth lynz forcefemming g b/c her clit (dick) doesn't get hard anymore (meds/age/wtvr)
killing, before killing was cool (stripper! reader x frank!)
stripper reader x frank! again this was gonna be a blurb but I can't stop and I won't stop. tw: actually kind tame guys. there is smut, but not a lot. this is to me, very very romantic.but yeah lil bit of sex, and physical harm done to a creep at the start. w/c- 1800 LOL
13 shitty songs and no turn around is pretty fucking bad for an early evening but, not to worry, cause the mood is perfectly murdered when Bella has to kick the man she’s dancing for, upside the head-cause he won’t get his hands off her fucking skirt.
You tug her to the break room by her shoulders, as she mumbles different energetic points of hatred. You walk by donnie, and smile lopsided. Let her be, you know its this kind of night, but he smiles back- stretched out and languid. He’ll make you pay for it later.
Baby why did you have’t kick him? “You saw it, doll- you did- he was fuckin-i mean come on-dont tell me-“ I wouldn’t let him, hush it- show me your foot.
You pull her into the dressing room- onto a chair just by the stage mirror, and tug her pink pleasured heel into your lap, inspecting it for a bruise which is so painfully obvious you feel like kissing her foot as an apology. She can still work, she should still be able to dance. But it looks like it hurts. You look over as she tugs on the small shoulder bag left on the desk, hers. You give her a soft nod, and she pulls out a cigarette and a neon lighter. You nod again and she rolls her other foot to sit in your lap.
You remember when you both started, you remember how often you used to sneak in here and smoke cigarettes out the high vent near the laundry basket. You remember gossip, the flurry of getting ready- you mourned your girlhood together in real time. Volunteering your bodies to lonely men on the i90, arms linked and tied together. You watched her fall for Henry, you watched her get happy with him. You know she’s safe now, but her anger spikes now she’s taken- for some people, self respect is best found in the hand of a partner.
You do it again, just for each other- you talk about the new dancers, you talk about donnie, you talk about your cat. You hold onto her ankle as she laughs so hard she chokes on her newport. When the 16th song of the night finishes up, you tell her to go home n’kiss him for me and she smiles, holding your hand tight enough that her ring imprints on your skin. She’s still just your girl, and you’re still just hers.
Going back out into the hallway- Donnie is already pointing at a man at the bar. Tattooed up to high hell, with a dark beard matching his mop of dark hair. You cant see a face from here- but who are you to care what he looks like. why him? “Looks lonely, just fix it-“. As you walk by- he grazes his hand down the centre of your spine- you suppress as shiver as you try and walk to the beat of the music over to him. He turns just before you touch his shoulder in greeting-
Hello?
You think about taking a step back, maybe you made him nervous, but he looks down to your heels, then up your stocking clad legs. He puffs out a long breath as he looks at the under bust stain corset wrapped around your ribs- and finally, he chuckles at the wig. bitch. “D’ya have a name?” You consider doing the whole, ill tell you my real name cause your so pretty bit- but he is actually very pretty so you mumble out dolly before you change your mind.
“Like a doll or?-“ Parton, we’re in Texas right? And he laughs at that, cause he’s meant to- your obviously not in fucking Texas. “You-“
And he looks you up and down again, really over all of you. You know you don’t give off what is the stereotypical dancer, but he seems into it. You thank god for the years of study, Dita von Tease, Betty Paige, May West. You have the history down, now you just need the ideal. He coughs before finishing the sentence, “you look-look great”. And you let yourself pretend, like you have to most nights, that you aren’t being paid to talk to him, and he might let him self believe it for a moment too.
You end up talking at the bar for the rest of your shift, at one point you’re sitting on the bar top itself, laughing so hard you nearly fall off as he tells a story about his band, and eating dog food. He makes a showgirls reference and you loose it.
You talk genuinely, about work and dancing, about buying heels being the best part of your week. you talk about the wig- and he boyishly says he wants to see the real hair. And you consider telling him to wait till you get off. maybe he’ll get the hint that you haven’t fucked in a while, but the big beautiful state says you can’t ask him to fuck you- you can only imply for the sweet fee of $13.99 an hour. But if you want him to actually touch you- you have to figure out a way to get his number without being on the premises.
And look, doing this isn’t smart, or cute. But he’s both of those things. And watching Bella get driven home in henry’s fat pick up stuck jealousy in you like a splinter. You look over to donnie, and he’s gleefully smiling at loula’s ass moving in circles. So you take a shot and look at frank, his name is frank, dead centre and whisper: I get off in 20 minutes. Do you drink coffee? And he looks like he’s been struck with a lightning bolt. he jumps out of his seat and nods quick, slamming a pocket full of 20 dollar bills onto the table.
You look at him quizzically, and he whispers back “can’t I like-tip you out, so you can leave earlier? Waffle House shuts for the morning clean in like-“ he looks down at his watch, and then back up at you “2 hours and you must be fucking starving I mean, its so tight-“
If you could, you would kiss his cheek and skip out the front door with him. But instead, you whisper the license plate of your car in the lot, and tell him to wait You do pick up the stack if 20’s though. He was right about tipping out.
donnie’s still obsessed with loula, so you take a the opportunity and flip out of the wig, unlace the corset and roll into an oversized white t-shirt. You look in the mirror at the impression of the coset on your stomach, and run you fingers against the risen marks. You think about how much it used to hurt, and then realise how much things don’t really hurt anymore.
He’s waiting by the car with a cardigan under his armpit. When you get close enough he explains. “When you like- go in, the ask to take your fucking jacket? And this is like-all I had so, uh-yeah” you nod, and laugh at his boyish pathetic-ness. He tilts his head to the side, like your cat Louis, but he’s just moving so the street lights illuminate you more. “You look-“
You wait for the cliche, you look better like this, you’ve heard a million times from men trying desperately to end up 6 inches deep inside you, - but he don’t say anything, for at least 1 minute.
“Oh fuck sorry, you look like, exactly the fucking same, I was trying to think about a joke for the wig- but I like the blonde-ish, it suits you, they both do-“
You kick him in the shin and he makes a noise like a teen trying to flirt in class, sheesh.
You go to waffle house, you get coffee and something greasy and warm to eat- he does the same. He talks about home, new jersey, he talks about his band again, the music they make. He talks about traveling all the time. you guys debate the worst place to get a tattoo and mutually agree that its the elbow or the knuckle.
You stay till the morning cleaning break, and get back in your car- he hands you a cigarette, and you swap numbers. You think about asking him if he wants to fuck you. But you know he does. You think about pulling over the car and riding him to tears in the passenger seat, repaying him for his kindness. But actually, he would’ve been this nice no matter how he found you. And for once, you actually fucking like him.
Frank- “don’t- its cool, I get it if you wanna go home- could you drop me?” Nah-look, d’you “no its okay, it’d be weird to go on date I sooo get it-“ frank quit talking, “yeah sure yeah, sorry- what’s up?”
You look over to him, and wrap a hand around the mass of his cheek- and pull him to kiss you. You let yourself fall into it again, cause its a pretty easy thing to do. He kisses back, hands glued to his sides until you tell him to hold you. So he does. You kiss for a while, just figuring each other out. It feels like dancing, in the good way.
You place a hand over his crotch, and he whines like a dog. You tell him that you think he’s really cute, that he’s really handsome too- and he rolls his hips up into you. He cums fast, but he feels big- and he rolls his head back when he finishes like he’s genuflecting. but the compliment is all the same. I mean you were standing in front of him in a corset 2 hours ago.
You lean back and mumble, stay the night, and take me on a date tomorrow, and he nods yes- you can hear cogs turning in his head. Figuring out how to convince you to travel with him on tour, or how he’s planning to eat you out when you guys get back to your place. You let his mind whirr on as you power up the car. The car radio is playing quiet and the air is sticky outside as you drive home. You’ve got a feeling.
who has never known god (lltbp gerard x reader)
second name for this would be unforgettable, but the joke was too obvious from the beginning. nsfw blurb with plot, for your enjoyment. tw: entrapment, themes of kidnapping and confinement, themes of remembering what is once forgotten, bitch.
darling, its incredible
The music is old, American. You feel your head swim as he turns you once, twice, three times. His leather clad hands dancing around- either touching you too firm and not firm enough. he grazes you with each step, and tugs you with each break. He couldn’t be on beat if he tried.
The music pools out from their break room, the record scratches- and you can see how happy music makes him. Even if this isn’t what he plays on stage, he looks so commanding, like he’s leading you though it- even though he’s just as naive as you when it comes to slow dancing. For example: eye contact, is an obvious struggle.
But in moments, he impersonates people he’s seen before. “You are-good,” as he moves a hair from your face, “nice-nice evening?” As his lips rest against your cheekbone. You give him the benefit of the doubt, the music is quiet. Impossible to properly move to anyway, you move to wrap both arms around his neck- less of a waltz, more of a social.
He seems more comfortable, slotting toward you with a smile. You rock back and fourth for the songs 9th repetition. You count each recycle, incredible, unforgettable, unforgettable, stay.
Gerard’s cheeks are a pale pink, as he pulls in closer. His body tight. You kiss him once, a small peck- and he trills.
“It-it is romann-?-“ romantic. maybe. “You-you think maybe?” I think-this-this is the best we’re going to ge-get “the be-best! What, what joy, best-here-i will-woo-woo” woo me? “Hmmm, quite right-i should rather-“
and something slips, and he’s altogether. Like squinting at something far away, and realising you’ve seen it before. Familiar and perfect like recognising an old friend. He smiles, his hands still- and you see a small moment of a full person that there once was. On beat and charismatic, confident- well almost. He holds the sides of your face and whispers. “I can see you-“. There’s an urge to cry, that's been lingering in you for days when you consider the true madness of this place. You brush tears from your own cheeks and hold his head back, each hand on his neck- and whimper kiss me- just to see if it feels the same.
It does. But deeper, like he knows what he’s doing now- you kiss for one repetition incredible, unforgettable, unforgettable, stay and move together to the point you can feel him and his cock stiff against you.
You reach a hand between you- you feel like its prom night, or the first dance after getting married. Primed with innocence and excitement, looking forward to a life together- you force yourself to hone in on the moment, and not the big picture. Think of the leaves, not the root. He rolls his hips into your hand- and even his voice is smoother as he moans “thank you, thank you-right, right there-“ he moves a hand to copy your motions, you plot your head into his shoulder to focus.
He cums hard enough to buckle his knees, but he holds you up to keep going. Repeating your name, again and again like a command. His voice still smooth- his eyes narrow and warm. It is romantic. When you feel his fingers brush against that spot inside you- wailing is the only option as you double over and fall with him to the ground. satisfied.
He said your name. Repeated it. He kisses your name into the crown of your head, strokes it into your hair. He mumbles your name into your ear, and finally- voice un-tampered by an accent so obviously foreign to him, he whispers- fully conscious and self aware. “We’re not meant to be here”
she’ll be right here in these arms
frank iero x fem!reader
ahhh writing for frank is sooo scary pls don’t prosecute me. i’m a lil tipsy rn and this seemed like a fun idea (¬_¬") i tried my best. this is really just a short lil blurb w some dirty talk nothing too crazy
summary:reader being desperate for frank i guess ?
warnings: franks a bit rough, he’s not very nice either,name calling,not quite oral but the penis is out,frank is described as tall,dirty talk
𓏲ּ𝄢‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ 𓏲ּ𝄢‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ 𓏲ּ𝄢‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ 𓏲ּ𝄢‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ 𓏲𝄢‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹
