armor4freak

who wants to jack me off and call me a loser

[garlicbreadmustdie]

i almost started crying oh my fuck

i love him so much

forever my favorite person to walk this godforsaken earth

[fuckingweirdofreak]

i feel like theres no gay bandom guy x reader fics so i have to imagine some chick getting railed cause that is NOT me bro.

[selfishchemicals]

After Practice

gerard way x patrick stump

Summary: After a simple gig, things get steamy between two friends who hate to admit they like each other..

Authors Note: this is my first time ever writing official smut (so ignore any incorrect terms…)

Word Count: 2,946

Pairing/Ship: Gerard Way (My Chemical Romance) x Patrick Stump (Fall Out Boy)

This includes…: internalized homophobia (slurs mentioned once), slight angst, cursing, two losers but one is more dom, pathetic sub gee, soft dom patrick, scent kink, slight overstimulation, awkward intimacy

. . .

the garage smelt of weed, sweat and a hint of leather as another “concert” was held in gerard’s garage. he knew his parents would probably kill him later, but that wasn’t what mattered at the moment, knowing he had a show to finish.

gerard gripped the microphone tight, voice loud enough to shake the room. patrick was beside him, fingers working meticulously against the strings, striking strong chords that filled the space.

it was the last song of the night— they had to make it count. sweat trickled down patrick’s throat, catching gerard’s attention, a bit too much than he’d like to admit. before he knew it, the band had already started another song while he was distracted. he quickly darted back to the microphone in front of him, feeling utterly embarrassed about missing the first lyrics of the song.

shit.

patrick noticed. he always did when gerard stared for too long. he played it off as something he did “when he was in the moment”, as if he didn’t stare patrick down like he was eye candy.

the crowd roared, thrashing limbs, dancing bodies, and smokers in an empty corner. the music buzzed through gerard’s ears as he concluded the final song of the night, microphone screeching abruptly.

“well, i hope you all enjoyed this.. concert.” gerard cleared his throat, sore and raspy. he fidgeted with his fingers, actively finding words to end the event. "we’ll have another gig in about two weeks— yeah, two weeks." he repeated firmly, voice still shaky.

the garage slowly emptied as the last bystanders began walking out into the cool night air. gerard still felt the faint buzzing like the music hadn’t fully faded yet.

patrick set his guitar down, unplugging the amp on the side. “think we did good tonight?” he asked, panting slightly.

gerard leaned against the wall, wiping the sweat off his palms onto his dusty jeans, the ones he wore far too often. he glanced down at patrick, before tucking a messy strand of hair behind his ear.

“i guess,” he shrugged. “could’ve fixed some things.”

patrick looked up at him, scoffing. “dude, you missed the first lines of the last song.”

gerard quickly averted his gaze. “don’t remind me.”

the band finished packing up in silence, duffle bags rustling against the ground. the stale smell of weed lingered in the garage, mixed with dust.

soon enough the rest of the band left, exchanging small waves before shutting the garage door behind them.

patrick slung the large bag on his back. “i should probably get going—“

“wait.” gerard said quickly.

he paused in his steps.

“you don’t have to go. well, not yet.”

patrick tilted his head, before shrugging. “i mean, sure. my mom thinks i’m sleeping at pete’s anyway.”

“basement?” he asked, before getting a confirming nod from gerard.

——————————————————

gerard’s room— well, basement was everything you’d expect from someone like him. the room was filled with half empty cans of soda, and dirty clothes in piles on the floor. horror movie posters lined the walls, ones from popular to lesser known films. nerd.

patrick’s eyes traced the room, even though he’d been there millions of times. he sat down, bed creaking. gerard went off somewhere in his room, running a hand through his damp hair. patrick is quick to take off his dirty converse, looking up at his greasy friend, who was changing right in the middle of the room like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

he couldn’t help but stare. hard. he’s never seen him like this before— soft, pudgy skin coated in a sheen layer of sweat. closely examining the slight curve of his hip dips, he wondered what it would be like to grab them.

fuck.

he couldn’t think of his friend like that. before he got out of his thoughts, he saw gerard looking at him, a bit embarrassed.

“dude—“ gerard stammered out, face a tinge of pink. he quickly shoved his new shirt on, flattening it out. “i’m no fag, got it?” he hissed, knowing deep down that was bullshit.

“i— i wasn’t staring. what the hell are you talking about?!” he spat out, acting as if he wasn’t a nervous wreck. patrick was lying through his teeth. he’s had a crush on gerard for as long as they’ve known each other. “i’m not gay either… i don’t do that stuff.” he scoffed, staring at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in room.

gerard went back to sit on the bed, now at an awkwardly close distance to patrick, knees brushing against one another. the silence was deafening, both of them not knowing what to say after that weird encounter.

——————————————————

time went by, the pair settled into gerard’s bed watching a movie— horror, of course, to gerard’s request.

patrick wasn’t entirely a fan of it, but he had to do something to get his mind off his best friends body. the soft pink of his nipple, god. the faint trail of hair creeping up to his belly button.

he wasn’t gay. he wasn’t. he knew that. he couldn’t think of his friend like that, even though it gave him a sick thrill.

he took a agonizing breath, before putting his attention to the movie in front of them. gerard was entranced, eyes glued to the screen. he couldn’t forget about it, not now. his pants suddenly felt tight. seriously?

gerard suddenly felt thirsty. he lunged his body over patrick’s torso, grabbing his soda can off the armrest. his forearm unknowingly grazed against the tent in patrick’s pants, making him jump up with an embarrassing whine.

gerard froze mid-sip. his eyes widened, fully registering the whine, and even worse, the hardness pressed against his arm.

for a moment, they sat in silence. then;

“holy shit,” gerard yelped, because what else was there to say?! he quickly yanked his arm back from patrick’s bulge like it was on fire. (which he’d much more prefer.)

“dude— dude. what’s wrong with you?!”

patrick’s face burned so hot he could’ve melt right in that bed. “wh— me?!” he screeched, sitting up almost instantly. “you’re the one who’s touching my boner!”

“YOU’RE HALF-HARD IN MY BED!!!” gerard practically screamed.

despite the tense atmosphere, patrick found himself leaning inches closer to gerard, close enough to feel his shuddering breaths.

gerard’s face softened, the initial anger fading away, turning into a newfound curiosity. he watched the way patrick looked him— like he wanted him to. he kept his gaze locked on his mouth.

“we really shouldn’t be doing this—“ gerard murmured, voice trembling ever so slightly. he obviously didn’t move, instead waited for patrick to make the first move.

patrick’s breath hitched, body betraying his thoughts. “i know, i know we shouldn’t.” he replied shakily. “but… i don’t care.”

something snapped in gerard’s body, making him lunge forward, capturing patrick’s mouth in a kiss. it was a sloppy, messy, desperate attempt to figure out the feelings they’d felt for each other for god knows how long.

patrick grabbed at his shoulders, gripping them tight. their teeth clashed against one another, both clearly inexperienced with anything intimate.

gerard’s breath shook as patrick pushed him back against the headboard, the sudden force made his heart race— fuck. he was already hard from just a kiss?

patrick’s body pressed against his, instinctively making gerard spread his legs for more room. he felt the friction between them, making the already strained bulge in his pants throb needily.

his hands squeezed tighter around gerard’s shoulders, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks. this was really happening.

gerard gasped into the kiss while patrick rocked against him, hips perfectly aligned despite their jeans in the way. “p- patrick..” he let an embarrassingly loud whimper against his lips.

patrick pulled back enough to see the state he was in— head thrown back against the bed, eyes watery and body quivering. he also took notice of the tight shirt he was wearing, how it hugged against his plush hips.

he needed that shirt off of him. now.

“take your shirt off- please. i wanna see you.” patrick begged, as if he wasn’t the one straddling him right now.

gerard complied, yanking the fabric over his head in one swift motion, showing his soft pale torso. he gripped patrick’s front tightly, seeking purchase on his best friends shirt (if that’s what they even were right now.)

patrick nearly moaned at the sight alone. god he looked so good. he couldn’t get any harder than he already was.

at that, patrick paused, eyes taking over gerard’s exposed bare skin. he swallowed the lump in his throat before mumbling a soft, “god.” his hands came up to squeeze his stomach, earning a shaky noise from gerard underneath him.

he took a moment to run his fingers over the underside of his belly, tracing along the faint happy trail, reaching the black waistband of his jeans. “can i…?”

gerard shivered at the touch, but nodded enthusiastically, breathing heavy and shaky. he lifted hips up, encouraging patrick to continue. his face was a red mess— watching his friend play with his waistband. “please- please..” he whined.

“yeah- i.. i got you.” patrick said quickly. he was just as eager as gerard, if not more. he pulled the jeans down, letting them pool around the other boy’s ankle, leaving him sprawled on the bed only in his grey boxers.

patrick bit his lip, letting out a hoarse breath, “look at you..”

gerard squirmed under his gaze, feeling exposed— vulnerable. his pudgy thighs threatened to shut under the attention, but patrick gently grabbed them, spreading his legs open once more.

“no, no, no. let me see all of you.” he said, voice raspy with desire.

before he could register what was happening, patrick leaned down, pressing kisses along the inside of gerard’s thighs, licking at the sweat. god— he felt like he was going to explode.

gerard shuddered, and he couldn’t help but buck his hips against patrick, rubbing the damp bulge in his boxers against his face.

the tiniest grin spread across patrick’s lips, before leaning in to pressed an open mouthed kissed right on the damp spot on his boxers— letting him feel every amount of pressure he was putting on it.

“knew you couldn’t wait, pervert.” he mumbled, knowing gerard probably didn’t care how horny this made him look right now.

“please don’t stop- please..” the words barely left his mouth, as his hips twitched subconsciously, grinding against patrick’s mouth. he continued his pleas. “i- i want you... please keep going—“

his breath was strained, as well as his cock in the thin fabric, making him grab at the sweaty sheets beneath him in an attempt to calm himself. his body was on fire, he’s never felt like this before. it made him feel exposed, yet wanted.

patrick huffed against the fabric, sending vibrations straight to gerard’s hips. that alone could’ve made him cum from how desperate he was.

with a final yank, gerard’s boxers peeled off, pooling to his knees, exposing the flushed, leaking cock between his legs.

patrick looked up at him, eyes dark and wide with need. “can i—“ he cleared his throat, motion shaky. “can i?” he repeated, but more eager.

gerard nodded, almost too quickly. “yes- yes. please, i need it..” he could barely finish his sentences, his whole body trembling with excitement. he knew he probably looked crazy, but he no longer cared. he only cared about two things: his dick, and what patrick was gonna do with it.

patrick didn’t hesitate any longer, before taking him in his hand. he gave him a small squeeze first, teasing him, to see if he’d make another sound. gerard grunted loudly at the touch, already so hard. he leaked precum, making a mess on his friend’s fingers. all he could think about his how much he needed this, about how much better this was than jerking off with his own hands.

“s- shit— patrick..” gerard stammered, voice wrecked. patrick looked back up at him, shaky smirk crossing his lips. “you’re— you’re so fucking loud,” he let out a tease, stroking his cock again with an extra slowness.

gerard whimpered pathetically when he felt patrick’s calloused hand work around him, leaking more than he’d expected.

“pa-patrick.. i’m close—“ he sputtered out, earning a small squeeze from patrick. he was already about to cum— and they’d hardly started yet. pathetic. he faltered in his stroking for a moment, squeezing around gerard’s length. “no, no. not yet. i— i wanna try something.”

“what’re you talking ab—“ were the only words gerard could get out before he felt patrick dive onto his chest, lapping his tongue around one of his nipples. he teased along the soft skin, nipping at it with his teeth.

gerard’s back arched off the bed, hands grabbing at anything he could touch, ragged moan escaping his mouth. his mouth against his sensitive chest could just about make him snap, but he held on, afraid this would end too soon.

patrick was too invested in pleasuring him to feel himself get closer to the edge, jeans hanging off his hips. gerard noticed— how much patrick was getting affected by it, and needed to see him. now.

“l-let me touch you too— i wanna do this together..” he choked out, practically begging as he grabbed at patrick’s wrist like his life depended on it.

the request left the room quiet for a moment, before patrick realized what this was. he was going to jerk off. with his best friend. that was going to be a lot to discuss later on. he pulled his mouth off his nipple with a pop, before giving a shaky nod to him.

gerard didn’t wait for a response; hands already yanking off patrick’s tight pants, the ones he find insanely attractive while watching him during band practice.

he pulled at the waistband, needing the friction he’d be waiting for after weeks (months? years?) of pining over him. their sweaty bodies moved against one another, causing them to pant.

patrick’s breath hitched as gerard unbuckled his pants, belt snapping open with a sharp click. “fuck— gerard, wait-“ he stammered out, but it was too late.

the moment gerard’s shaky hands wrapped around his cock, patrick’s body immediately reacted. a broken moan escaped his throat, as he bucked into his palm.

gerard watched him break on top of him, hips stuttering against his firm hand, precum spilling onto his belly. his pupils were blown out, watching as gerard figured out how to stroke him properly.

they both knew this wasn’t something meaningless, more of them both finding out that they needed eachother just as much as the other boy needed it. patrick thought he was straight— but he couldn’t deny the past glances at each other, the jokes which felt too real, and the lingering touches.

gerard’s breath stuttered as he pressed his nose against patrick’s throat, inhaling deeply. the sharp smell of sweat mixed with the cheap deodorant, and musk of a boy who played his hardest during guitar lessons.

a small whine escaped gerard’s throat, huffing against his skin.

patrick froze from on top of him, “dude— what the hell are you doing?” but then he felt gerard’s hips jerk against his thigh while his nose was pressed harder onto his sweaty throat. was he.. getting off to this?

“holy shit, you— you like that stuff?” patrick huffed. he wasn’t sure if he thought it was more digusting or insanely hot, the way he could get off just from his scent alone.

gerard only whimpered in response, inhaling greedily at patrick’s collarbone, where the sweat clung the most— cock leaking pathetically onto their touching thighs, just to feel closer.

patrick didn’t realize he was grinding against the boy underneath him, before feeling himself getting close. gerard was also feeling the same way.

“m—m’close.. please let me cum—“ gerard begged, rutting against patrick’s cock. “i’m so close— so close..” he continued.

“cmon— cum for me.. god- cum for me-” patrick hurried, stroking faster, and then, with a final touch— they both released, spurting needily against each other’s bellies.

patrick breath came in ragged gasps as the aftershocks filled his body, his forehead pressed against gerard’s damp shoulder. the basement smelled of sweat, sex and the lingering smell of them.

gerard whimpered, solely from the overstimulation— as patrick’s weight pinned him to the mattress. “fuck..” gerard mumbled hoarsely into patrick’s neck where he was moments ago, huffing his smell.

a moment passed where they sat in complete silence, before slowly peeling their bodies away from eachother, covered in their own fluids.

gerard ran a hand through his greasy hair, taking a deep breath. “yknow.. this kinda changes stuff between us— or something.” he muttered, stating the obvious.

patrick let out a soft sigh, looking over at him. “yeah— obviously,” he gasped out, chest heaving. gerard wanted to call him out on his bullshit, but was way to exhausted to do so.

they both laid boneless on the bed, sharing glances at each other. “y’gonna stay here? please stay.” gerard pleaded softly, feeling completely idiotic for even suggesting that, after they both just jerked off to eachother. why would patrick want to stay?

patrick didn’t reply right away, only lazily flopping his arm around gerard’s waist, squeezing lightly.

“we’ll talk about.. whatever this is tomorrow.”he spoke faintly, quite literally half awake.

the two boys finally let the sleep overcome them, soft snores filling the room shortly. whatever they were now, friends or more than, they both knew they were definitely going to do this together again.

[fuckingweirdofreak]

THIS FIC IS SO FUCKING GOOD I THINK ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME 🥹

[selfishchemicals]

After Practice

gerard way x patrick stump

Summary: After a simple gig, things get steamy between two friends who hate to admit they like each other..

Authors Note: this is my first time ever writing official smut (so ignore any incorrect terms…)

Word Count: 2,946

Pairing/Ship: Gerard Way (My Chemical Romance) x Patrick Stump (Fall Out Boy)

This includes…: internalized homophobia (slurs mentioned once), slight angst, cursing, two losers but one is more dom, pathetic sub gee, soft dom patrick, scent kink, slight overstimulation, awkward intimacy

. . .

the garage smelt of weed, sweat and a hint of leather as another “concert” was held in gerard’s garage. he knew his parents would probably kill him later, but that wasn’t what mattered at the moment, knowing he had a show to finish.

gerard gripped the microphone tight, voice loud enough to shake the room. patrick was beside him, fingers working meticulously against the strings, striking strong chords that filled the space.

it was the last song of the night— they had to make it count. sweat trickled down patrick’s throat, catching gerard’s attention, a bit too much than he’d like to admit. before he knew it, the band had already started another song while he was distracted. he quickly darted back to the microphone in front of him, feeling utterly embarrassed about missing the first lyrics of the song.

shit.

patrick noticed. he always did when gerard stared for too long. he played it off as something he did “when he was in the moment”, as if he didn’t stare patrick down like he was eye candy.

the crowd roared, thrashing limbs, dancing bodies, and smokers in an empty corner. the music buzzed through gerard’s ears as he concluded the final song of the night, microphone screeching abruptly.

“well, i hope you all enjoyed this.. concert.” gerard cleared his throat, sore and raspy. he fidgeted with his fingers, actively finding words to end the event. "we’ll have another gig in about two weeks— yeah, two weeks." he repeated firmly, voice still shaky.

the garage slowly emptied as the last bystanders began walking out into the cool night air. gerard still felt the faint buzzing like the music hadn’t fully faded yet.

patrick set his guitar down, unplugging the amp on the side. “think we did good tonight?” he asked, panting slightly.

gerard leaned against the wall, wiping the sweat off his palms onto his dusty jeans, the ones he wore far too often. he glanced down at patrick, before tucking a messy strand of hair behind his ear.

“i guess,” he shrugged. “could’ve fixed some things.”

patrick looked up at him, scoffing. “dude, you missed the first lines of the last song.”

gerard quickly averted his gaze. “don’t remind me.”

the band finished packing up in silence, duffle bags rustling against the ground. the stale smell of weed lingered in the garage, mixed with dust.

soon enough the rest of the band left, exchanging small waves before shutting the garage door behind them.

patrick slung the large bag on his back. “i should probably get going—“

“wait.” gerard said quickly.

he paused in his steps.

“you don’t have to go. well, not yet.”

patrick tilted his head, before shrugging. “i mean, sure. my mom thinks i’m sleeping at pete’s anyway.”

“basement?” he asked, before getting a confirming nod from gerard.

——————————————————

gerard’s room— well, basement was everything you’d expect from someone like him. the room was filled with half empty cans of soda, and dirty clothes in piles on the floor. horror movie posters lined the walls, ones from popular to lesser known films. nerd.

patrick’s eyes traced the room, even though he’d been there millions of times. he sat down, bed creaking. gerard went off somewhere in his room, running a hand through his damp hair. patrick is quick to take off his dirty converse, looking up at his greasy friend, who was changing right in the middle of the room like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

he couldn’t help but stare. hard. he’s never seen him like this before— soft, pudgy skin coated in a sheen layer of sweat. closely examining the slight curve of his hip dips, he wondered what it would be like to grab them.

fuck.

he couldn’t think of his friend like that. before he got out of his thoughts, he saw gerard looking at him, a bit embarrassed.

“dude—“ gerard stammered out, face a tinge of pink. he quickly shoved his new shirt on, flattening it out. “i’m no fag, got it?” he hissed, knowing deep down that was bullshit.

“i— i wasn’t staring. what the hell are you talking about?!” he spat out, acting as if he wasn’t a nervous wreck. patrick was lying through his teeth. he’s had a crush on gerard for as long as they’ve known each other. “i’m not gay either… i don’t do that stuff.” he scoffed, staring at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in room.

gerard went back to sit on the bed, now at an awkwardly close distance to patrick, knees brushing against one another. the silence was deafening, both of them not knowing what to say after that weird encounter.

——————————————————

time went by, the pair settled into gerard’s bed watching a movie— horror, of course, to gerard’s request.

patrick wasn’t entirely a fan of it, but he had to do something to get his mind off his best friends body. the soft pink of his nipple, god. the faint trail of hair creeping up to his belly button.

he wasn’t gay. he wasn’t. he knew that. he couldn’t think of his friend like that, even though it gave him a sick thrill.

he took a agonizing breath, before putting his attention to the movie in front of them. gerard was entranced, eyes glued to the screen. he couldn’t forget about it, not now. his pants suddenly felt tight. seriously?

gerard suddenly felt thirsty. he lunged his body over patrick’s torso, grabbing his soda can off the armrest. his forearm unknowingly grazed against the tent in patrick’s pants, making him jump up with an embarrassing whine.

gerard froze mid-sip. his eyes widened, fully registering the whine, and even worse, the hardness pressed against his arm.

for a moment, they sat in silence. then;

“holy shit,” gerard yelped, because what else was there to say?! he quickly yanked his arm back from patrick’s bulge like it was on fire. (which he’d much more prefer.)

“dude— dude. what’s wrong with you?!”

patrick’s face burned so hot he could’ve melt right in that bed. “wh— me?!” he screeched, sitting up almost instantly. “you’re the one who’s touching my boner!”

“YOU’RE HALF-HARD IN MY BED!!!” gerard practically screamed.

despite the tense atmosphere, patrick found himself leaning inches closer to gerard, close enough to feel his shuddering breaths.

gerard’s face softened, the initial anger fading away, turning into a newfound curiosity. he watched the way patrick looked him— like he wanted him to. he kept his gaze locked on his mouth.

“we really shouldn’t be doing this—“ gerard murmured, voice trembling ever so slightly. he obviously didn’t move, instead waited for patrick to make the first move.

patrick’s breath hitched, body betraying his thoughts. “i know, i know we shouldn’t.” he replied shakily. “but… i don’t care.”

something snapped in gerard’s body, making him lunge forward, capturing patrick’s mouth in a kiss. it was a sloppy, messy, desperate attempt to figure out the feelings they’d felt for each other for god knows how long.

patrick grabbed at his shoulders, gripping them tight. their teeth clashed against one another, both clearly inexperienced with anything intimate.

gerard’s breath shook as patrick pushed him back against the headboard, the sudden force made his heart race— fuck. he was already hard from just a kiss?

patrick’s body pressed against his, instinctively making gerard spread his legs for more room. he felt the friction between them, making the already strained bulge in his pants throb needily.

his hands squeezed tighter around gerard’s shoulders, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks. this was really happening.

gerard gasped into the kiss while patrick rocked against him, hips perfectly aligned despite their jeans in the way. “p- patrick..” he let an embarrassingly loud whimper against his lips.

patrick pulled back enough to see the state he was in— head thrown back against the bed, eyes watery and body quivering. he also took notice of the tight shirt he was wearing, how it hugged against his plush hips.

he needed that shirt off of him. now.

“take your shirt off- please. i wanna see you.” patrick begged, as if he wasn’t the one straddling him right now.

gerard complied, yanking the fabric over his head in one swift motion, showing his soft pale torso. he gripped patrick’s front tightly, seeking purchase on his best friends shirt (if that’s what they even were right now.)

patrick nearly moaned at the sight alone. god he looked so good. he couldn’t get any harder than he already was.

at that, patrick paused, eyes taking over gerard’s exposed bare skin. he swallowed the lump in his throat before mumbling a soft, “god.” his hands came up to squeeze his stomach, earning a shaky noise from gerard underneath him.

he took a moment to run his fingers over the underside of his belly, tracing along the faint happy trail, reaching the black waistband of his jeans. “can i…?”

gerard shivered at the touch, but nodded enthusiastically, breathing heavy and shaky. he lifted hips up, encouraging patrick to continue. his face was a red mess— watching his friend play with his waistband. “please- please..” he whined.

“yeah- i.. i got you.” patrick said quickly. he was just as eager as gerard, if not more. he pulled the jeans down, letting them pool around the other boy’s ankle, leaving him sprawled on the bed only in his grey boxers.

patrick bit his lip, letting out a hoarse breath, “look at you..”

gerard squirmed under his gaze, feeling exposed— vulnerable. his pudgy thighs threatened to shut under the attention, but patrick gently grabbed them, spreading his legs open once more.

“no, no, no. let me see all of you.” he said, voice raspy with desire.

before he could register what was happening, patrick leaned down, pressing kisses along the inside of gerard’s thighs, licking at the sweat. god— he felt like he was going to explode.

gerard shuddered, and he couldn’t help but buck his hips against patrick, rubbing the damp bulge in his boxers against his face.

the tiniest grin spread across patrick’s lips, before leaning in to pressed an open mouthed kissed right on the damp spot on his boxers— letting him feel every amount of pressure he was putting on it.

“knew you couldn’t wait, pervert.” he mumbled, knowing gerard probably didn’t care how horny this made him look right now.

“please don’t stop- please..” the words barely left his mouth, as his hips twitched subconsciously, grinding against patrick’s mouth. he continued his pleas. “i- i want you... please keep going—“

his breath was strained, as well as his cock in the thin fabric, making him grab at the sweaty sheets beneath him in an attempt to calm himself. his body was on fire, he’s never felt like this before. it made him feel exposed, yet wanted.

patrick huffed against the fabric, sending vibrations straight to gerard’s hips. that alone could’ve made him cum from how desperate he was.

with a final yank, gerard’s boxers peeled off, pooling to his knees, exposing the flushed, leaking cock between his legs.

patrick looked up at him, eyes dark and wide with need. “can i—“ he cleared his throat, motion shaky. “can i?” he repeated, but more eager.

gerard nodded, almost too quickly. “yes- yes. please, i need it..” he could barely finish his sentences, his whole body trembling with excitement. he knew he probably looked crazy, but he no longer cared. he only cared about two things: his dick, and what patrick was gonna do with it.

patrick didn’t hesitate any longer, before taking him in his hand. he gave him a small squeeze first, teasing him, to see if he’d make another sound. gerard grunted loudly at the touch, already so hard. he leaked precum, making a mess on his friend’s fingers. all he could think about his how much he needed this, about how much better this was than jerking off with his own hands.

“s- shit— patrick..” gerard stammered, voice wrecked. patrick looked back up at him, shaky smirk crossing his lips. “you’re— you’re so fucking loud,” he let out a tease, stroking his cock again with an extra slowness.

gerard whimpered pathetically when he felt patrick’s calloused hand work around him, leaking more than he’d expected.

“pa-patrick.. i’m close—“ he sputtered out, earning a small squeeze from patrick. he was already about to cum— and they’d hardly started yet. pathetic. he faltered in his stroking for a moment, squeezing around gerard’s length. “no, no. not yet. i— i wanna try something.”

“what’re you talking ab—“ were the only words gerard could get out before he felt patrick dive onto his chest, lapping his tongue around one of his nipples. he teased along the soft skin, nipping at it with his teeth.

gerard’s back arched off the bed, hands grabbing at anything he could touch, ragged moan escaping his mouth. his mouth against his sensitive chest could just about make him snap, but he held on, afraid this would end too soon.

patrick was too invested in pleasuring him to feel himself get closer to the edge, jeans hanging off his hips. gerard noticed— how much patrick was getting affected by it, and needed to see him. now.

“l-let me touch you too— i wanna do this together..” he choked out, practically begging as he grabbed at patrick’s wrist like his life depended on it.

the request left the room quiet for a moment, before patrick realized what this was. he was going to jerk off. with his best friend. that was going to be a lot to discuss later on. he pulled his mouth off his nipple with a pop, before giving a shaky nod to him.

gerard didn’t wait for a response; hands already yanking off patrick’s tight pants, the ones he find insanely attractive while watching him during band practice.

he pulled at the waistband, needing the friction he’d be waiting for after weeks (months? years?) of pining over him. their sweaty bodies moved against one another, causing them to pant.

patrick’s breath hitched as gerard unbuckled his pants, belt snapping open with a sharp click. “fuck— gerard, wait-“ he stammered out, but it was too late.

the moment gerard’s shaky hands wrapped around his cock, patrick’s body immediately reacted. a broken moan escaped his throat, as he bucked into his palm.

gerard watched him break on top of him, hips stuttering against his firm hand, precum spilling onto his belly. his pupils were blown out, watching as gerard figured out how to stroke him properly.

they both knew this wasn’t something meaningless, more of them both finding out that they needed eachother just as much as the other boy needed it. patrick thought he was straight— but he couldn’t deny the past glances at each other, the jokes which felt too real, and the lingering touches.

gerard’s breath stuttered as he pressed his nose against patrick’s throat, inhaling deeply. the sharp smell of sweat mixed with the cheap deodorant, and musk of a boy who played his hardest during guitar lessons.

a small whine escaped gerard’s throat, huffing against his skin.

patrick froze from on top of him, “dude— what the hell are you doing?” but then he felt gerard’s hips jerk against his thigh while his nose was pressed harder onto his sweaty throat. was he.. getting off to this?

“holy shit, you— you like that stuff?” patrick huffed. he wasn’t sure if he thought it was more digusting or insanely hot, the way he could get off just from his scent alone.

gerard only whimpered in response, inhaling greedily at patrick’s collarbone, where the sweat clung the most— cock leaking pathetically onto their touching thighs, just to feel closer.

patrick didn’t realize he was grinding against the boy underneath him, before feeling himself getting close. gerard was also feeling the same way.

“m—m’close.. please let me cum—“ gerard begged, rutting against patrick’s cock. “i’m so close— so close..” he continued.

“cmon— cum for me.. god- cum for me-” patrick hurried, stroking faster, and then, with a final touch— they both released, spurting needily against each other’s bellies.

patrick breath came in ragged gasps as the aftershocks filled his body, his forehead pressed against gerard’s damp shoulder. the basement smelled of sweat, sex and the lingering smell of them.

gerard whimpered, solely from the overstimulation— as patrick’s weight pinned him to the mattress. “fuck..” gerard mumbled hoarsely into patrick’s neck where he was moments ago, huffing his smell.

a moment passed where they sat in complete silence, before slowly peeling their bodies away from eachother, covered in their own fluids.

gerard ran a hand through his greasy hair, taking a deep breath. “yknow.. this kinda changes stuff between us— or something.” he muttered, stating the obvious.

patrick let out a soft sigh, looking over at him. “yeah— obviously,” he gasped out, chest heaving. gerard wanted to call him out on his bullshit, but was way to exhausted to do so.

they both laid boneless on the bed, sharing glances at each other. “y’gonna stay here? please stay.” gerard pleaded softly, feeling completely idiotic for even suggesting that, after they both just jerked off to eachother. why would patrick want to stay?

patrick didn’t reply right away, only lazily flopping his arm around gerard’s waist, squeezing lightly.

“we’ll talk about.. whatever this is tomorrow.”he spoke faintly, quite literally half awake.

the two boys finally let the sleep overcome them, soft snores filling the room shortly. whatever they were now, friends or more than, they both knew they were definitely going to do this together again.

[wifekeyblogz]

nerd!patrick x reader

ofc i return w some patrick headcanons it’s taken me an embarrassingly long time to get around to this. smh. how have i not written a nerdtrick fic yet i am a disappointment to my fellow stump lovers. enjoy a short list of headcanons for my loves belated birthday.

to everyone that sent requests i promise they’re coming!! life has been busy busy busy but it will come !!

he’s a lil perv,panty sniffing,sock sniffing,they’re in college ,porn, sub!patrick elements, degenerate behavior,stalking i guess,

𓏲ּ𝄢‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ 𓏲ּ𝄢‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ 𓏲ּ𝄢‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ 𓏲ּ𝄢‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ 𓏲ּ𝄢‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹

nerdtrick! who may or may not be in love with you. sure you’ve only offically talked to him once and it was just to ask if he had the answer to number three(he didn’t) but those five seconds were magical to him. he thought about those five seconds for weeks. it was tattooed on his brain.

nerdtrick! who is awful at chemistry. he planned on dropping the class before he stumbled across you. ever since your fated meeting he stayed up for countless nights on end studying and memorizing. in his mind if he could master the art of science you’d be so impressed at his dedication you’d fall head over heels.

nerdtrick! who sketches you in his notebook during classes. he fails his open book exam because instead of notes the pages were filled with little sketches of you. your eyes. your full lips. your lips wrapped around his cock. what? he isn’t a pervert he jsut really likes to draw.

nerdtrick! who stares at you an unsettling amount during class. for a duration of the time his eyes are fixed in your direction taking in every detail of your pretty face. one particularly slow class he counted how many times you blinked. it’s not that he’s obsessed he’s just observant. two totally different things.

nerdtrick! who was devastated when you moved classes. he didn’t mean to freak you out. it wasn’t his fault you had him so mesmerized. you were a goddess meant to be worshipped and praised.

nerdtrick! who would daydream about you constantly. while sitting through another boring lecture he’s dreaming of you forcing him to obey your every order. you’d force him to eat you out for hours and he’d happily sit there and do it. anything to please you.

nerdtrick! who is thrilled you live on campus too. not because he was a creep but because he just wanted to make sure you were safe. he would follow you back from your last class keeping an eye on you. he would imagine what it was like to hold your hand

nerdtrick!who spends most of his day in the library waiting for you to come in. that’s the only place he sees you nowadays. he needs his fix. he palms himself through his jeans as he watched you giggle with your friends. you had such a pretty smile. he would kill to have you spit in his mouth.

nerdtrick! who comes across your bag when he’s leaving the library. he knows it’s yours. from the color and the small pins littering the front part of th bag. he can practically smell you on it. he is quick to snatch it, rushing out of the library. he holds it close to his chest as he sprints back to his dorm.

nerdtrick! who doesn’t sleep a wink for about a month. oh my god your socks smell heavenly. the faint scent of sweat was like a drug to him. he pressed the fabric to his nostrils as he furiously jerked himself off. “fuck, y/n” he chants under his breath like a prayer. for nights on end he’d stay up all night smelling and touching your things.it was almost like you were right next to him.

nerdtrick! who slowly falls into a porn addiction. he imagines it’s you instead of the faceless actress moaning loudly. “you’re so pretty when you touch yourself like that y/n”. he groans at the dimly lit screen. “what i would do to eat that pussy. you’d like that wouldn’t you”.

nerdtrick!who’s grades start slipping. his teachers say he’s losing focus. they’re absolutely right. you’re begining to consume his every thought. he can’t sit still in class,he can’t finish any of his assignments or study for exams. nothing in school is as important as his love for you.

nerdtrick! who gets put in a study group with you. turns out you both are on academic probation never in his life had he been so happy to be flunking school. he seats himself right next to you keeping his eyes lowered. he cpuld smell your perfume. god you smelled so good. his jeans got tighter as he continued to bask in the wonderful scent.before he could register what was happening he was painfully hard, erection uncomfortably pressing against the denim.

nerdtrick! who rushes to get up. he mutters an excuse as he makes his way to the bathroom. he is so ashamed of himself in this moment. this lack of self control was so unlike him. before you came along he was the top of all his classes, his grades were prefect. and now he’s stroking his cock in the bathroom willing himself to stay silent. you were so effortlessly pretty without even noticing it drove him wild. he squeezes his eyes shut as he imagines it’s your hands touching him not his own.

nerdtrick! who’s heart stops when you approach him. “um i think you dropped this”. you say handing him his notebook. he couldn’t bring himself to speak. he smiles awkwardly. the love of his life was finally talking to him and he couldn’t bring himself to say a word.

nerdtrick! who is relived. the note books you had picked up happened to be the one dedicated to your routine. it’s not like he was going to kidnap you but a guy can dream.

[xxmcr05xx]

Darling Nikki | Patrick Stump x f!Reader

Summary: F/N cheers up Patrick as he struggles to record his first album.

Warnings/Contains: Sub!Patrick, making-out, dry humping, groping, cumming in pants, dacryphilia

WC: 1,174

Originally Posted: 12/05/25 on AO3!

Title Song: Darling Nikki - Prince

16+ Mature Themes

Divider by @purefantasia

Patrick groaned out loud for the fiftieth time that day, scribbling out another line in his notebook.

He had been spending the entire day trying to come of with lyrics from their first album - gaining some popularity from the previous EP. Currently, he was seated on a beanbag in his room, he ripped out a page that was full of scribbles into the bin, which was now overfilling with scrapped pieces of paper. "Ugh, maybe I should leave this for Pete to do..." Patrick sighed out loud, "I mean, he said he would be fine with writing the lyrics. But I can come up with my own, right?"

Across from him was his girlfriend. F/N was laying on her stomach, leaning her face on her hand as she skimmed through a rock magazine. The girl hummed in agreement, "I think... um, that you should uh totally write some lyrics, 'trick. You'll do well," F/N answered slowly, still not looking away from the magazine. The CD player on the floor was quietly playing Prince's Purple Rain album.

The ginger frowned and pouted, staring down at his distracted girlfriend, "You're not even paying attention to me," Patrick called out, his forehead creasing ever-so slightly. F/N just nodded, still not paying too much attention to what Patrick had said. Patrick got up from the beanbag and crawled over to his girlfriend.

This caught F/N's attention.

She looked up at Patrick and raised an eyebrow, "Wow this is new - you crawling on the floor for me," F/N joked slightly. Patrick's face went red as he sat back on his butt, looking down at F/N as he crossed his legs.

"Just want you to pay attention to my woes, that's all I want..." Patrick complained with a pout. F/N just laughed at him, she finally closed her magazine and sat up, crossing her legs to copy Patrick and faced him.

She was very close to him now - they were touching toes.

"Well, all my attention is on you now, Patrick. What now?" F/N asked with a grin. The ginger cleared his throat and shrugged slightly, his face was growing redder - clearly he didn't think ahead.

"I uh.. I do- don't know.... just need some material for writing I guess."

F/N giggled and slid her hand onto Patrick's thighs, rubbing the denim material of his jeans, "Well... I am right here," F/N whispered, starting to climb on top of Patrick's lap now. He let out a small whimper as F/N sat directly on top of his lap now, "You gonna write about me? How your hot girlfriend fucked you while you were trying to write music?" she teased.

Patrick gulped and shrugged again, his hands were practically glued to the floor, too scared to try and touch his girlfriend. "C'mon, you can touch me, 'trick. You know I don't bite," F/N grinned, moving her hands to Patrick's face to get him to look at her. He did so and looked directly into F/N's eyes, his eyebrows upturned - giving her puppy dog eyes.

The girl gulped at Patrick's facial expression, "Wow... you are really asking to get touched, aren't you?" F/N asked rhetorically. Patrick nodded nervously and moved his shaky hands to her waist. F/N grinned and leaned down, finally relieving the tension between the two as their lips met. Patrick gripped F/N's waist tighter as he moaned into the kiss.

F/N moved away from the kiss right as it was just about to get heated, which made Patrick cry out. "Get your ass on that bed right now, 'trick," F/N demanded as she took her shirt off.

Almost as if he was a dog, Patrick followed her command, almost tripping over a pair of shoes. He laid on his back when he got to the bed, basically ogling her tits as she walked over. "Such a good boy," F/N teased, she climbed onto the mattress and above Patrick. The ginger licked his lips as his hands, who seemed to have a mind of their own, basically attached themself to F/N waist, rubbing her bare skin up and down.

"You're so gorgeous, F/N..." Patrick huffed out.

F/N smiled and leaned down, moving her hands towards Patrick's face and holding it and whispering a small thank you. Their lips met again more passionately - F/N's butt sitting properly on Patrick's bulge now. The man let out a whining moan into her mouth at the relieved tension. F/N decided to tease Patrick even more now by grinding onto Patrick's cock harder now.

Patrick started to feel overstimulated - his hips were rutting up desperately to meet his girlfriend. His tongue poked F/N's lips softly now, he was desperate to taste the inside of her mouth now. F/N gladly opened her mouth, teeth clashing as their tongues desperately touched.

Moans filled the entire room loudly as the CD played continued to run.

The man's hands rubbed F/N's sides softly, slowly making their way to her chest as he groped her lightly. Patrick just needed more from her so he flipped the two over, F/N now underneath him. "P-Patrick, what are you doing?!" F/N asked as they moved away from the kiss.

"I'm sorry... you just... ugh I need to be on top, please," Patrick whined out, his face was red, saliva was dribbling down the side of his chin as he basically caged her. He couldn't think or hear straight, only listening to what his cock was wanting him to do. Patrick latched his lips onto F/N's neck, sucking and biting down on it softly. His saliva covered her entire neck.

His humping continued, his hips moving harder now as the two moaned together. "Patrickkk... fuck- oh my God- please don't stop!" F/N cried out, tears were in her eyes as she stared down at her desperate boyfriend, tears fully running down his face as he panted and moaned.

"Need to c-cum oh my God oh my God-" Patrick whined out, he was full-on crying at that point from pleasure.

He then came prematurely.

Embarrassed.

Extremely embarrassed.

Patrick looked down at his pants and his face was flushed in embarrassment; on the front of Patrick's jeans was a wet spot of cum.

F/N let out a small chuckle as Patrick got off of her lap, "Oh man..." Patrick sighed out, he bit his lip and looked over at F/N, "I'm sorry, F/N. I was planning to you know... kinda fuck you. This is so embarrassing."

"It's okay, 'trick. You just shower now, okay? I'll put your clothes in the wash," F/N responded, giving him a cheeky smile as she got up from the mattress. Patrick muttered out a small thank you as he headed to the bathroom. He stripped out of his clothes and gave it to F/N who was laughing at the mess that Patrick made in his pants.

[floralsfadingg]

number one fan

basement gerard way x singer reader.

summary: gerard is your biggest fan. he’s at every show, every meet and greet, eyes locked on you the entire time. one night, you finally snap.

tags: parasocial relationship, gerard is a creep, obsession, stalking, illegal videotaping, blackmail, degradation, handjobs, rough sex, sub gee, fem reader.

a/n: my take on basement gerard. happy holidays! wc: 4,432.

The lights were blinding, white-hot and punishing, burning down on the stage as your band tore through the opening tracks of your debut album. Ferocious riffs, perfected live over months of practice, shredded through the battered speakers as you leapt across the stage, voice sharp and raw, every note dripping with the chaos the crowds had come to love.

The venue stank of sweat and stale liquor, beer sloshing from raised cups into a writhing mass of bodies, drunken adults pressed shoulder to shoulder with scene kids who had waited hours in the freezing cold for entry. Outside, the Jersey winter gnawed at bare skin, sharp and unforgiving; but inside, the air was thick and suffocating.

The stage quaked beneath your boots. Stickiness and grime clung to your clothes. Every bass thrum vibrated through your bones.

The song slammed to a stop. You gulped water, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before leaning into the mic.

“This next one…” You rasped, lungs still burning, “You better scream it like you mean it!”

The count hit. The kick drum exploded. The crowd went feral.

It was your song, the one everyone knew. Voices slammed back at you, raw and messy, lyrics shouted off-key and way too loud.

You’d spotted him early in the set. Pale, draped in black from head to toe, motionless except for the moments he nearly got swallowed by the thrashing kids at the barricade. Midway through the song, you prowled to the edge of the stage, boots pounding against the wood, crowd pressing in towards you. You crouched low, thrusting the mic into his face as the bridge tore in.

“Sing it for me.”

He froze, shock and hesitation flickering across his soft yet sharp features. For a moment, his hands twitched nervously as if unsure what to do. Then his hazel eyes locked with yours, wide and uncertain, before his thin, trembling voice cut through the chaos. As he began to sing, his voice and confidence grew stronger, the crowd surging around you both, hands clawing and grabbing at the moment.

You leaned down until your foreheads touched, breaths mingling, sweat slick against skin, while feedback shrieked and rattled through the room. Together, you screamed the final lines, raw and unrestrained.

When the last note slammed into silence, you pulled back with a grin and a wink, spinning upstage as the hall exploded behind you.

That was the first of many times you spotted him. After that night, he started appearing at every one of your shows, always pressed against the barricade in the exact same spot. Never moving, never singing along. Silent. Hazel eyes locked on you from the moment you stepped onstage until the lights dimmed and the venue emptied.

You didn’t know who he was or what he did for a living. But it was clear he had the resources and the determination to follow you on tour for months.

You told yourself he was just shy, probably more interested in the band than he was letting on. Nevertheless, something still felt a little off about him the more you thought about it.

He started showing up at your meet and greets. Always lingering at the back, never fully joining the line. Even after the crowds would thin, he never asked for photos or autographs. Never spoke a single word to you. He just stood there, close enough to feel. Eyes fixed on yours as if the shows weren’t enough anymore.

One night, you finally mustered up the courage to address him.

“What’s your name?”

He flinched as if the question hit him like a blow. His mouth opened, then closed. When he finally spoke, it came out in a stuttered whisper.

“G-Gerard.” He hesitated, eyes darting everywhere before locking onto yours. “I-I’m sure you get this a lot, but… I’m your biggest fan.”

The intensity in his gaze made your stomach twist. You masked it with your signature smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Gerard,” you said, reaching out your hand, voice light, almost playful.

Another night after a show, you and your guitarist stumbled out into the cold, laughing and tripping over each other as you exited the back door, drunk on the energy from the crowd and cheap beer. One thing blurred into another, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a messy, spontaneous kiss.

You didn’t see Gerard standing across the parking lot.

Didn’t notice the way his eyes followed your every move.

Didn’t notice as he slipped a camcorder from his coat pocket, switching it on as you pulled your guitarist into your car, laughter rising, moans escaping, windows fogging up from your movements. All of it unfolding under his watch, every sound and motion captured, the red recording light winking faintly in the dark in a silent warning.

At the next meet and greet, Gerard finally got in line and asked for a picture.

Just with you.

No one else.

Strange.

You forced a smile as his arm yanked you against his side. You twisted away to end the photo quickly, but he lingered, presence heavy and suffocating. Even after the shutter snapped, he refused to let go. Instead, he leaned in, voice harsh and low, almost a growl.

“You have no idea,” he paused. “How long I’ve waited for this.”

A shiver ran down your spine, suddenly aware of how cold his grip felt despite the heat radiating from his body. Your pulse spiked. You took a sharp breath, instinctively stepping back to break his hold, brushing off his hand. His eyes held yours, unblinking, making it impossible to look away.

Sure, you had dealt with your fair share of overzealous fans chasing after you, but none quite as unsettling as this. There was something in the way he watched you: too focused, too intent, as if he could see straight through your soul.

At another meet and greet, he showed up with a bouquet of flowers. Red roses, wild and unruly, their thorns jutting out like barbs. You told him you couldn’t accept gifts from fans, reaching out to brush his arm in apology. A thorn caught your finger as you tried to pull away.

Blood splattered across the petals, dark and vivid, and you recoiled on instinct. Gerard didn’t release you. His fingers clamped around your wrist, nails digging into you as he pinned you in place, pressing down on the cut with calculated force.

“Let go,” you said, voice calm but sharp, locking eyes with him in silent resistance.

He refused. His grip clamped tighter, deliberate and chilling, a silent reminder of his control. "You’re bleeding," he murmured, voice thick with something unplaceable. His eyes flickered from your face to the wound and back, gaze violating.

Security moved in swiftly, hands firm as they pulled him away. Even as they led him off, you stood rigid, breath choppy, and your heart hammered in your chest. The sensation of his stare lingered, heavy and suffocating, as if he hadn’t left at all.

Christmas Eve rolled around. Darkness surrounded your apartment, the only light in the room coming from the soft glow of the TV as you cuddled with your guitarist on the couch. Snow fell thick outside, muting the world to a hush, but even in the warmth of each other, a faint tension lingered in the air. With only a short break from the tour, there was no time to spend the holidays with family this year.

Your guitarist got up, untangling himself from you to fetch more blankets from the closet. He passed the window, pausing as something outside caught his attention. He looked again, slower this time, peering through the glass and the snowfall.

“I think,” he said carefully, “There’s someone parked in your driveway.”

“What?” you whispered, sitting up slowly, heart tightening as your eyes followed his gaze

He didn’t answer right away. He moved closer to the window, pushing the curtain aside. Just enough to look again. The porch light glinted off the falling snow, illuminating the car at the end of the driveway. Engine off. Headlights dead. Waiting.

“There’s someone inside the car.”

Your stomach dropped. “What… what do we do?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the car. “Stay here,” he said, voice low and steady. “I’m going to check who it is.”

You yanked him back before he could move. “Don’t go out there!”

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Three taps at your door.

You turned to him, fear gripping your chest, eyes wide and trembling. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Hold on a sec,” he says, moving to the door slowly and peering through the peephole. “There’s no one there… Wait. It looks like something’s on your doorstep.”

He glances through the peephole again, opening the door quickly and pulling the object inside.

Red roses.

A note.

“Merry Christmas.

From, Your Number One Fan.”

You didn’t see him again until your New Year’s Eve show. You wouldn’t let him win, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of having a hold over you, having any control whatsoever.

The crowd chanted down from ten… at five, you moved towards your guitarist, grabbing him by the cheek and pulling him into a kiss just as the clock struck midnight.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

You smiled on his lips, letting the moment play out for the crowd, but beneath it, your pulse spiked.

You knew Gerard was watching, and from the corner of your eye, you could see a vein protruding from his forehead, knuckles white as he gripped the barricade so tightly it seemed his hands might break.

Hopefully, he’d take this as a message.

You stepped into the parking lot long after the show ended, cold air slicing at your skin, snow crunching under your boots. The lot was nearly deserted, a few cars scattered, headlights glinting off the ice. You pulled your coat closer, trying to shake the dread crawling up your spine.

Your hand hovered over your car door, ready to slip inside, when a firm, gloved hand shot out and stopped you.

You froze, stomach knotting as you turned. Gerard towered behind you, face flushed, pale and unreadable, his eyes searing into yours with that same fierce, unblinking intensity.

“Gerard…” you breathed, trying to keep your voice steady. “What are you…”

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours, desperate, clammy, demanding, pressing into you with a force that made your stomach twist.

You tried to pull back, but his grip was relentless, hands locked on your shoulders, keeping you close. Panic surged through you, heart hammering, breath coming in short gasps as you tried to push him off of you.

“Stop!” you snapped against his lips, voice sharp, but he didn’t release you. His eyes flicked to yours, dark and unyielding, and a twisted smile ghosted his features.

You pushed back as much as you could, gasping for breath. “I just want to talk,” he said, voice low and controlled, but there was a dangerous edge under the calm.

“I don’t want to talk,” you snapped, heart hammering, stepping back, trying to put distance between you. “Leave me alone. Now.”

He tilts his head, eyes glinting in the dim lot, a faint, unnerving smile curling his lips. “Leave? You don’t get to tell me that. Not anymore.”

“Huh?”

He stepped closer, the faint crunch of snow under his boots echoing in the empty lot. “You don’t understand,” he said, voice low, deliberate. “I have a video.” Of you. Of everything.”

Your stomach dropped, irritation flooding your veins. “What… what the hell are you talking about?”

He let the words hang, watching your face closely, the weight of his gaze suffocating. “That night… what you did with him in the car,” he said slowly, pausing for effect. “I saw everything.”

Even in the dim light, the color drained from your face. “You… saw what?”

“Listen to me,” he said, voice low and deliberate, each word pressing down like ice. Your chest tightened, heart hammering as panic surged through you.

“I want you to get in the car.”

You let out a shaky laugh, more breath than sound. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

His jaw tightened. For a split second, something dark flicked across his face, then it was gone, soothed over by a calm that unsettled you more than anger ever could.

“You don’t get it,” he said quietly. “This isn’t a request.”

You took a step back, the cold biting through the thin soles of your boots. “You think threatening me is going to get you what you want?” Your voice shook, but you forced the words out anyway.

“You think I won’t scream?”

A corner of Gerard’s mouth twitched. “Go ahead,” he said. “There’s no one left. Crew cleared out ten minutes ago. Security’s on the other side of the venue.”

Your breath fogged between you, the lot suddenly deafening with silence.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he continued, almost gently. “I just want to talk. Somewhere private. Somewhere you won’t feel the need to  perform.”

“Perform? Is this a game to you?” you asked, the words brittle in the cold air.

“Get in the car.”

The way he said it, flat, final, made your pulse spike. You glanced past him, gauging the distance to the street and the glow of a lone streetlamp at the far end of the lot.

Shakily, you slid into the passenger seat, the door slamming shut with a deafening echo. The seat was cold, stiff beneath you, the interior dim except for the faint glow of the dash.

“Keys,” he said.

Your fingers trembled as you dug them out, the metal biting into your palm before you dropped them into his waiting hand. He didn’t rush you. Just watched, patient in a way that made your skin crawl.

The doors locked with a sharp click.

Gerard remained silent as the car slowed, veering off the main road and into a quiet suburban street, finally stopping in front of an old, slightly weathered house with peeling paint.

“This is where you wanted to talk?” you asked, voice tight.

He didn’t answer. He simply got out, walked around, and opened your door.

He led you inside, hands brushing along the walls as he navigated the dark. At last, he reached a door and pushed it open, revealing stairs that plunged into pitch black.

“No way in hell am I going down there,” you snap, voice sharp and unwavering, planting your feet firmly at the top of the stairs.

He paused, a faint, unsettling smirk tugging at his lips. “Suit yourself,” he said smugly. “But everything you need to see… is down there. And like I said… I’m not going to hurt you.”

The darkness seemed to swallow the staircase, the air thick with dust and the faint, musty scent of something long forgotten. Your pulse hammered in your chest as you stared into the black void below.

“You first,” you challenged, voice steady despite the churn of fear and defiance inside you.

He didn’t hesitate. He stepped down into the darkness, each footfall echoing off the walls as you reluctantly followed. When he reached the bottom, he grabbed a pull chain. A single bare bulb flickered to life, swinging slightly, casting harsh, shifting light across the basement. Shadows stretched and quivered, and the space that had seemed small and empty now felt suffocatingly alive.

As the light steadied, your eyes were drawn to the walls. Hundreds of drawings covered every inch, pinned, taped, framed, and layered over one another. Pencil, ink, charcoal, every one meticulously rendered. Faces, poses, fleeting expressions…

Of you. 

All of them of you.

Your stomach tightened, a cold knot forming in your throat as you took it in. Some sketches captured moments you didn’t even remember, tiny details no one else could have known.

“This… this is insane,” you whispered, taking a cautious step back.

Gerard didn’t answer. He simply stood behind you, letting you absorb the scope of it, the obsessive care in every line, the detail, the love. The faint, unsettling smirk on his face told you he knew exactly how powerless the sight made you feel.

Something inside you snapped, a mix of fear, disgust, and anger igniting into unrestrained fury. You reached up to the nearest sketch on the wall, crumpling it in your hands before casting it to the floor. The paper fluttered and landed with a sharp crack, startling in the stillness of the basement.

He took a step forward, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t back down. Your hands darted to another drawing, ripping it from the wall and tossing it aside. The sound of crumpling paper echoed around you.

For the first time, he blinked, caught off guard by your sudden, unrelenting rage.

He opened his mouth, maybe to explain, maybe to regain control.

And you didn’t let him.

You stepped into his space, forcing him to stop short, your presence undeniable. “Don’t,” you said, voice low and shaking with restrained anger. “Don’t try to justify this.”

His jaw tightened. “You don’t understand…”

“No,” you cut in sharply. “You don’t.”

You gestured at the walls, the hundreds of drawings staring back like witnesses. “You’re disgusting.”

He didn’t have time to respond.

You stepped into him, grabbing his coat and slamming him into the wall, the force enough to make the frames rattle and the papers rustle behind him. He sucked in a sharp breath, more startled than hurt, eyes snapping wide.

“Look at me.”

He does.

Your lips crash into his, sharp and unrestrained. Not pleading. Not soft. A choice you made with your whole body. Your hand stayed planted against the wall beside his head, holding the space, almost caging him in.

Gerard hesitates, then kisses you back, slower now, careful, like he was realizing a balance had shifted, and he hadn’t noticed when.

Your lips part just enough to let the words slip out, low and dangerous.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked, letting your gaze pierce into his.

He blinks, caught off guard, the smugness he had worn all night faltering. For the first time, he looked uneasy.

Your chest pressed closer, heat radiating against him. Without giving him a moment to recover, you captured his lips again in a rough kiss, claiming the moment entirely. His eyes widen, caught between surprise and something else. Something he hadn’t expected.

You pulled back just slightly, letting the weight of your presence settle. “This isn’t about me anymore,” you whispered, voice low, husky. “This is about you. And you’re going to do exactly as I say.”

He nods, heat creeping up his cheeks, and before he could react further, you press your lips to his again. “You want me?” you growl, unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants down in one swift motion. “You need to be able to keep up.”

Gerard whimpers into your mouth as you bite down on his lower lip, untucking his already hard cock from his boxers to stroke it, his eyes squeezing shut at the contact.

“This is why no one wants to get near you,” you laugh, voice low and venomous, spitting onto your hand as you begin to pump him. “You’re a fucking creep.”

“I-I know,” he gasps out, glassy eyes meeting yours in a haze. “I’m s-sorry.”

“Sorry?” You scoff, the sound harsh and humorless. “You’re sorry?” You repeat again, frustration building in your chest.

You pump him faster, palm swiping over his leaking tip with every stroke, cruel and unforgiving, gliding down his length with ease.

You shake your head slowly, disbelief hardening into something colder. “No. Sorry, doesn’t even begin to cover it. Why the fuck are you showing up at my house? Sending me flowers? Writing me notes? Are you in love with me or something?”

He doesn’t answer, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you start squeezing along the base of his cock as his hips try to rut into your palm. Your knees keeps his body pinned against the wall.

“I thought,” he grunts, jaw locked as the pleasure builds steadily. “Y-you’d like it.”

“You thought I’d like it?” You repeat it back to him slowly, a wicked grin spreading across your features as your hand slaps his cheek.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” You demand, leaning forward to drag your mouth over his neck, sucking a thick bruise onto the skin.

“You’re pathetic.”

The harshness in your voice is all it takes to make his body stiffen, every nerve on edge as it hits him sharply. His chest rises and falls unevenly, and he swallows hard, sticky ropes shooting out all over your hand and onto the front of your coat.

“Ugh, Disgusting,” you scoff, but make no move to slow down, maintaining the same pace even as he starts to soften in your palm. You want him to feel it, want him to hurt as the pleasure becomes painful.

In one swift movement, you knock him down onto the couch, plaid cushions sinking beneath your combined weight as you straddle him, making quick work of your clothes.

“Get these off,” you hiss as he fumbles with his shirt, lifting it over his head to expose his pudgy body.

He’s embarrassingly hard again, rutting his flushed cock all over your thighs in an effort for more friction, more heat, more something.

You can’t wait to deny him.

“God, you’re so easy. One look from me and you’re spreading your legs like a desperate whore.” He’s panting as you dig your nails into his greasy scalp, yanking his head back to look at yours.

“Where is it?” You snark at him, your other hand brushing his jaw. “The camcorder?"

He whimpers, pointing to the top drawer on his desk. You leave him exasperated on the couch, hands shuffling through the piles of paper and trash to get to the device.

“Delete it. Now.”

Gerard takes a shaky breath, hands fiddling with the device until he reaches the video, wiping it from memory.

“Any copies?”

He shakes his head.

“Good boy.”

Gerard is shaking like a leaf, hands trembling and pulse racing, utterly unprepared for this. He never expected it to go this far, never thought you could be like this. Seeing you now leaves him stunned, caught somewhere between awe and fear.

You climb up onto his body again, parting your legs as you reach down to rub your clit. His hands linger, ghosting uncertainly down your body as you huff and slap them away.

“Don’t touch me.”

Without wasting another second, you line his length up with your entrance, sinking down on him in a single greedy glide. You set a brutal pace, hands wrapping around his neck for support, slamming down onto him.

Gerard’s already blissed out, eyes glazing over and rolling around every which way as he fights to stay grounded. His kiss-bitten lips are parted, drool slipping freely as his hands claw into the couch so hard the fabric starts to tear. The sounds spilling from him are filthy, desperate, and completely unrestrained as you slam down harder.

“Fuck I-I’m close.”

“Already?” You grunt into his neck, taking that as your cue to move faster, taking him up and down to the hilt effortlessly with how wet you are.

It’s almost humiliating how much this drives you wild, how turned on you are despite yourself, teeth digging into your lip so hard you taste blood.

“Hold it for me,” you whine as you suck bruises all over his neck and collarbones, blues and purples spreading over the skin like watercolor.

“I don’t think I can,” he whines, wetness pooling in his eyes at the speed you’re taking him. Exhaustion’s set in your legs at this point, thighs shaking from the efforts, but you don’t relent.

You’re using him, scratching deep lines into his back as you grip him hard enough to bruise. “B-beg me, and I might let you,” you grunt, pace faltering slightly as the pleasure becomes a little too much.

“Please… please,” Gerard sobs, hands shaking as if you’re the only thing keeping him upright. “I need it. I need you. I can’t—” His voice fractures completely. “I can’t do this without you. I can’t live without you.” Tears fall unchecked, dotting your chest as he presses closer, desperate for something solid.

There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, the raw, desperate honesty in his eyes, the devotion that feels too heavy to bear. It’s almost suffocating, pressing himself flush against your chest as you mewl out, scratching at him. He means no harm, yet the sheer weight of him twists your stomach and quickens your pulse.

These thoughts continue to spiral, twisting tighter in your mind with every heartbeat, every thrust of your hips as your vision blurs and you see stars.

Gerard can feel how close you are, his large hands gripping your waist as he slams you down against him. “P-please.” he chokes, breath breaking, spit flying. You’re the only thing keeping me alive,” his voice turns completely thin as he buries his face into your hair. “I-I can’t take it anymore.”

And that’s all it takes, vision going white as he shoots into you, cock flush against you so tight he’s sure not a drop will escape. You’re coming before you even realize it, mouth opening in shock as no sound comes out at first, pleasure coursing through your lower body in sharp waves. Your cunt clenches around him, milking his cock for all it’s worth, contracting as he cries out.

You’re still trembling in his hands as Gerard pulls you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. When you don’t protest, he lingers. You pull away, unsteady, feeling his fluids trickle out of you as you reach for your clothes on the floor. The room feels airless. Too quiet.

You dress without looking at him. Keys in hand, you move for the stairs as you look back one last time.

“Stay away from me.”

Gerard doesn’t speak. His eyes follow you from where you left him, still and hollow, as though he’s already accepted what this moment means. A goodbye.

Almost a year later, your band had signed to a major label and was finishing its second album, killing time between sessions with a string of shows up and down the Northeast.

Your dressing room is sterile, cold, when a knock rattles the door. Your manager steps in, holding something carefully.

“Someone left this for you.”

It’s a rose. Dark. Thorny. Misshapen. Cut too short to survive. There’s no note. No name. You don’t need one.

You toss it into the trash, the petals crumpling under your fingers, and move toward the stage as you wait for places to be called.

You force the unease down, swallowing it like bitter medicine.

Deep down, you know this is something far from over.

dividers by @/sisterlucifergraphics.

[razed-rosary]

basement gerard x reader because it's one of my guilty pleasures <3

This was the last place you thought you’d be giving a blowjob, but here you are, on your knees in Gerard Way’s basement bedroom with a cock teasing at your lips. 

It’s a fucking pigsty, with laundry strewn all over the floor and furniture, empty energy drink cans on his desk, even his bed is a wreck. But somehow, the mess—and the smell—does nothing to dampen the unexpected arousal coiling low in your belly.

Gerard had a certain… charm to him. You met at the comic book store he worked at, and the way he couldn’t meet your eye and stammered through “W-would you like the, uh, receipt with you, or—or in the bag?” made you feel unimaginably powerful.

So you went to the store more often, just to watch the way his hands twisted anxiously in his shirt when he watched you bend down for a comic on the lowest shelf, knowing your skirt rode up just enough to give the poor pervert a glimpse of your lacy panties. At the time, you had shamelessly imagined those thick fingers shoved down your throat.

This is a whole different level. When Gerard invited you over to watch a movie (“it’s—it’s this stupid s-slasher flick, we can, um, we can make fun of it, or whatever”), you didn’t know what to expect. Some tension, maybe. Plenty of awkward looks, maybe some snacks. 

Never in a million years would you have expected to catch the poor guy getting hard as a girl was getting hunted on-screen by a masked maniac. 

He had tried to hide it, shifting, subtly adjusting his jeans. But every time you glanced over, you saw how big his pupils were, how he kept chewing on his lip. You decided to put him out of his misery when you said “are you getting off on this? You really are a freak.”

He went red, eyes round and panicked as he tried to explain it away, as if anything could make the situation any less disturbing. Something about it made you want to eat him alive.

So now, you’re getting what you asked for. The poor thing’s a trembling wreck as your tongue circles the swollen head of his cock, thick and hard and weeping. 

"Uhn—please, I-I ca-an’t—" he sounds like a wreck, voice high and breaking just from the slightest touch of your lips on his dick. You take pity on him, engulfing him in the hot wetness of your mouth, jaw opening to accommodate him.

And it’s like a switch flips. He grabs onto your hair hard enough to sting and thrusts into your tight throat, whimpering when you gag around him.

“Fuck—‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry, I just—just can’t, fuck. Let me, please, l-let me just have this, honey, fuckfuckfuck you’re so tight here, is your pussy this tight? Shit, this is so much better than—than the pictures I took up y-your skirt. I’m such a fffffuck—fucking freak, ‘m sorry baby.”

He uses your mouth like the fleshlight he has stashed away in his nightstand. Only this one gags and drools and swallows every hot rope he shoots down your throat in messy, jerky thrusts.

[fuckingweirdofreak]

hi uhm im just a horny guy theres no harm in that..

anyways… who wanna degrade me?