stars watch me descend ℘

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) you’re a heart attack in black hair dye ── .✦

[operaticsk3leton]

ʚɞ everything i do is bittersweet, you could tell me secrets that i’ll probably repeat ୭ ᵎᵎ 🧁

🐾 romina ! · she ⋮ her · slowest writer on

earth · vanilla enjoyer · puppyboy

lover · depraved fangirl ! ᯓ★

🍰 masterlist + rules !

[operaticsk3leton]

⤷ 🧁⋆.˚ sloppy, sloppy makeouts with illi… both of you kneeling on her bed in nothing but panties, her pretty little girlcock straining against the pink cotton of her undies while she rubs against the wet spot of your black ones. her tongue colliding against yours, occasionally sucking on it as if trying to get out all the flavor— cherry lifesavers.

illi’s hands wander indecently, groping at your tits and pinching the hard buds of your nipples between her index and thumb; yours roughly grasp her hips, squeezing the flesh so hard in hopes it’ll mark her pale skin in pretty purples and reds.

both of your chins drip with drool, mouths falling open in wanton moans every time her leaking tip catches against your sensitive clit, the fabric in between creating the most delicious friction. your mouths barely even move in cohesion, you catch her supple bottom lip between your teeth and she whimpers, rolling her hips at the sensation, eliciting another groan from you.

illi reeks of overly sugary perfume and sweat, but it only turns you on all the more, grinding your hips against hers with more fervor, your sticky bodies pressed together. your efforts earn you more of her pitchy whines and a particularly sharp nip on your lower lip, her tongue lapping up the bead of blood immediately.

her body tenses as she cums with a broken cry of your name, ruining her favorite pair of panties. illi hisses as you dip your fingers into her waistband and scoop some of the sticky substance up with two fingers before dipping them into your mouth. her face reddens impossibly at the sight of you, all fluttering lashes and pointed eye contact, swishing around her essence in your mouth.

you purse your lips and she catches on quickly, leaning down and opening her mouth expectantly. her cock stiffens with renewed interest as a fat, bubbly glob of her cum mixed with your saliva dribbles from your generous lips to her waiting mouth. her swollen, kiss-bitten lips close around your gift and she swallows with a shy grin, eager to please you. you press delicate, chaste kisses to her pink face for her obedience, her eyes already flitting shut with drowsiness.

sloppy makeouts that end with a very content, dazed illi that clings to you in her sleep, dreaming sweet dreams of you.

a/n: me when 🤤 me when spitting in mouths 🤤🤤 with illi 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤 i’m such a chud all i can muster rn is drabbles sorry for the short stuff guys… send me your thoughts please im starved of a community i beg

[operaticsk3leton]

thinking about your needy, annoying boyfriend frank who simply can’t seem to get enough of your attention, no matter what you do.

your week has been killer; drowning in assignments and errands to run and your stupid professor who you can’t get an a out of because “nothing is perfect, therefore nobody receives a perfect grade”. and on top of that, frank, who pouts when you won’t pay him attention (but really he js doesn’t have shit to do all day except hotbox his car and play guitar until his fingertips bleed).

you’d think he’d never touched you before, the way he complains when you tell him “just 30 more minutes” and he shoots back a “you said that an hour ago” with a furrow of his brows.

thinking about your needy, annoying boyfriend who paws at your thighs like a clingy dog in a feeble attempt to get you to give it up and hold him, maybe let him lap messily at your cunt if you’re feeling sweet. but finally, blessedly, the last assignment has been submitted, your efforts rewarded with the confetti screen on canvas.

frank, who jumps you as soon as you shut your laptop, face burrowing into your neck as he breathes in your scent (the sick freak, you haven’t even showered yet), arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his warmth. your needy, annoying boyfriend whose face you grasp between your index and thumb harshly— just the way he likes it— and squish, all soft and pliable. your thumb that grazes his slightly chapped bottom lip before pressing against it.

frank, who parts his lips with a warm huff and swirls his bunny-pink tongue around the intruding digit. poor thing, so shameless— you can feel his growing erection press up against your thigh, dampening the soft, gray material of his sweats as he ruts into you slowly like you won’t notice.

he looks devastatingly pretty, hair mussed and unwashed, pale cheeks flushing apple-red. his lower lashes cling together as tears wet them, your thumb delving deeper into his mouth, his teeth nibbling and his tongue soothing the ache.

frank, who flashes you those perfect, wide puppy-dog eyes, all glossy and full of affection and want, that he knows you can’t resist, his intentions clear in their depths. thinking about your needy, annoying boyfriend…

a/n: i’m so frankpilled i need that soo bad… do ygs fw the word vomit or no… i find its easier to js do smth short like this and run with a thought than try to flesh it out cuz i have so many wips for oneshots that will never get finished 😭 but ill try maybe hopefully,,, sorry for another mention of fingersucking no fingersucking makes me a dull girl okay goodnight

[operaticsk3leton]

જ⁀➴ 𑣲⋆ i’m your little doll, use me ‘til i’m broken

gerard way x gn!reader

word count: 1.1k

tags: breakup, gerard’s pov mostly, angst, crying, implied toxic relationship, not proofread, idk i’m still bad at tagging

a/n: remember when i said i would try to upload consistently lmfaooo hey guys i missed you all. i honestly have no excuses or anything i js stopped writing entirely; this is literally the first thing ive written since i last posted NINE months ago im so sorry babies. i was overcome w shame at everything i’ve written and was tempted to delete it all but you all are very nice so i got over it. anyways this is rough and i didn’t wanna keep writing so that’s why it ends fairly abruptly and is short. also, sorta inspired by this post , i read this and was struck w inspo yes ik he’s not a stalker here but he’s vaguely creepy right yes yes also im super into breakups mppfhh. ok, i love you all and sorry for disappearing for nearly a year, i hope you enjoy this at least a little though, xo romie ❦

gerard had lost count of all the nights he prayed and pleaded to a god he didn’t believe in that you’d never leave him. that those weary stares you aimed in his direction as of late were nothing but his insecurities muddling his perception of you.

your eyes were always full of stars and affection whenever you’d stared at him, right? you were his entire world, his beating, bleeding heart, and it was only logical to assume you felt the same about him, right?

“i just… i can’t. do this, i mean. us. you- gerard, you mean so much to me. but, this just.” you huffed, voice contained, like you’d practiced this very spiel, “this just isn’t good for me, or you, even. i can’t handle it anymore.”

for a moment, gerard was starstruck. but not the soft, blissful feeling that makes one dizzy with delight, no. it felt as if a meteor struck him through the ribs at a million miles a second. felt like his heart was just torn out by the one he’d entrusted it to.

and for a moment, he was unsure if this was real. many a times he’d had this exact scenario play out before him, but he’d always wake up in a cold sweat, seeking your warmth and comfort after the nightmare.

you always promised you’d stay until he awoke.

and now, your words—scarily real— sliced through him like a dull blade trying to rip through cartilage and muscle, but catching at the soft, tender flesh. tears immediately burned in his eyes, and bitter bile rose in his throat, coating his tongue with a sickening taste.

he had to grip onto the musty sheets of his bed— the bed in which you’d shared— had to tether himself to reality before the earth swallowed him up. “how could you say that?” was all gerard managed to croak out, voice wobbly as he took a shaky inhale and continued. “you ‘can’t handle this’?”

his love, you had meant to say, he was sure of it, but the thought wrecked him. his presence was a plague. his love was a burden. that was what you meant to say.

his breathing quickly became labored, coming in short, unsteady huffs. he felt like his lungs were searing, the room was too small, not enough air. you felt your own heart rate bump up at his apparent panic. “how could you- i love you, how can that not be good for me? baby, please. w-what did i do?”

“gerard, please. i need you to understand. this relationship isn’t working for me. it’s not healthy. for either of us. you have to see that, don’t you? i-i’m sorry if i rushed us into this or something, or…”

your explanation fell on gerard’s deaf ears, the only thing audible was the sound of his heart thumping rapidly in his chest, as if it were about to reach a fever pitch before flatlining entirely. his wet eyes flitted to your hands, delicately placed in your lap, your fingers fidgeting as you spoke.

your perfect, perfect hands which he adored. adored the salty-sweet taste of them when he sucked on your digits greedily, adored the way they’d wipe his angry tears when he accused you of being unfaithful or not loving him, adored the way they fit perfectly within his own cold, clammy ones.

he didn’t know had long you had gone on for when he interrupted, “you don’t love me anymore.” it wasn’t a question, or a need for reassurance like he often held against you, it was sure. he was sure. why else would you be hurting him like this? were you so cruel?

his mind wandered to all the times you’d dealt with his outbursts, his fits of jealousy-induced rage when you were too friendly with one of your coworkers, when you claimed you had to study for a really important exam, his insecurities and his bouts of misery that led to him being bedridden and you having to take care of him.

no, you weren’t cruel. somewhere along the way, you had stopped aching for him in the all-consuming, maddening way he ached for you. and now, you couldn’t even bother to pretend anymore.

the tears only intensified, gerard struggling to speak around the sudden hiccups and hot tears that blinded him. you held your hands up as if to reach for his reddening cheeks and comfort him, hold him, and he almost fainted with relief. but you stopped yourself before you could rush the short distance from his desk to his bed and relieve him of his sorrows.

“y-you don’t- don’t love me anymore… you-”

“gerard, please don’t make this any harder than it has to be, i’m begging you.”

he could puke; your voice held grief and yet it was nowhere near as soft and dolce as it always was for him. impersonal.

gerard’s stomach twisted with every word—you sounded so sure, so certain that this would mark the end of your relationship. he’d rather die.

“please, please, please. baby, please. you can’t do this to me, i- please don’t leave me, i’m nothing without you, i need you!” he babbled, voice thick with emotion and barely coherent.

it was pathetic. you knew it and so did he, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, and you only felt worse for him. he’d drop to his knees and plead until his throat went raw if that’s what it took.

still, you wouldn’t budge. your nails dug into the supple skin of your thighs, deep enough that the sharp sting kept you present. if you relented, if you gave up like all the other times he tried to guilt trip you, you’d never leave. you’d lick away his tears and tell him you could never stop loving him, that he’s all that matters and then you’d be stuck.

caught, like a small animal between his jaws.

“i need you to calm down, gerard, please. i know this is hard to understand and it hurts but i’m- we can’t keep going like this. see?” you gestured to the space in between you, his breakdown at your confession, voice faltering for just a moment, “don’t you see? this isn’t normal, gerard! couples aren’t supposed to live inside each other’s skin, i’m suffocating!”

your voice rose without meaning to, nails digging so hard the pain stopped registering. your heart nearly shattered at the way he looked at you, completely and utterly devastated.

gerard wasted so many nights praying and pleading, all to a god that wouldn’t listen, all for a person who couldn’t stand to love him.

[operaticsk3leton]

taste

frank iero x fem!reader

word count: 5.0k

tags: smut, praise kink, public sex (technically but not really), inebriated sex, piv, blowjobs, vaginal fingering, fem pronouns used, bratty frank iero, softdom!frank iero, begging, crying, unprotected sex, hair pulling, use of petnames, abuse of italics, not proofread

a/n: somebody start a count for how many times i’ve apologized for taking forever to post. i’m sorryyy guys i just really have not been feeling it lately :( i get ideas but i just can’t write them well enough i hate it ugh. but i had a lot of fun writing this, even though i had basically no time to write throughout the week. but thank you to all the people who continue reading whatever i post, and for being so patient and sweet— i love you all. anyways enjoy, xo romie ❦

three things you’re absolutely sure of: your friends are stupid drunk, you’re stupid drunk, and that guy over there has looked at you five consecutive times in a row now.

maybe it was the three particularly strong peach daiquiris you had, the lights of the dingy bar blurring together as your hips swayed with each of your steps. or maybe it was that he was painfully obvious, his eyes seeming to linger and follow you wherever you went.

whatever it was, it was distracting in the best way possible. maybe a little narcissistic in principle, to be so intrigued by someone because they’re clearly into you, but when some hot stranger eye-fucks you from across the room, you’re allowed to be a little cocky.

the music was blaring and a little obnoxious, only being slightly covered by the drunken chatter and babbling of the bar’s patrons. his gaze seemed to find you, only you, but you reveled in the attention. might as well give him a show, no?

you noticed twenty or so minutes ago, and only once your friend, mandy, pointed it out to you while… dancing is what it looked like, or at least what she was going for.

a big, teasing grin tugged at her lips as she used your shoulders for support. her breath was warm as she whisper-yelled into your ear, “y’know, that guy over there’s been staring at you a lot. like, a lot.”

mild confusion sank in as your eyes scanned the bar for your mystery admirer— you hadn’t thought anyone was paying attention to you, what with how you were focused solely on not puking and forgetting how much you hated your professors.

apparently, that was enough to catch someone’s eye.

it didn’t take you long to spot him, and when you did, god, you’d have jumped him if you didn’t have any self-respect or restraint left. he was gorgeous, the kind of pretty that almost makes you jealous.

the hefty amounts of rum coursing through your bloodstream weren’t enough to have you on him that quick, though, and instead you made sure you weren’t crazy.

maybe they had made it up, gotten him confused with somebody else.

but, no. he was definitely staring at you. leaned up against an old-timey looking jukebox, a beer in his hand, and a piercing gaze. from a short glance, you found that he was alone, backed up into a corner, simply observing.

your friends kept giving you these looks, these annoying, insufferable looks where they wiggled their brows like twelve year old boys.

sticky bodies pressed up against you from every direction, the stench of sweat and liquor invaded your senses and only made your buzz all the more dizzying. it was getting harder and harder to not bump into people, shoulders knocking yours as you attempted to dance in the tight space.

all the while, his eyes flitted to your movements, roaming over your figure. your audience made you all giddy, eager to have more.

but soon enough the attention bored you; another 10 minutes passed and he hadn’t made a move on you, just watched with those eyes of his.

funny, they were so soft, his eyes. big and doe-like and sleepy, catching subtle glints of light as he stared you. but he was staring like he couldn’t wait to get his hands all over you. fuck, you needed his hands all over you.

he must’ve read your mind, must’ve noticed that his indecision was starting to lose your interest, because as you made your way back to the poor bartender, letting your friends know where you were going, he slid right next to you.

he was even prettier up close, you noted. his eyes were made softer, warmer, by their hazel hue, and his plump lips were all too enticing, his lip ring adding to the smile he wore.

“i was starting to think you were just gonna keep staring.” you quipped as you looked him up and down like an animal sizing up its prey. he seemed to be doing the same, and suddenly you didn’t need another drink; he could give you that same effect.

“had to make sure i wasn’t dreaming.” his grin widened when you smiled— it’s more of a scoff, really. “wow,” you extended the ‘o’ exaggeratedly, “i’m sure you’re proud of that one. took you half an hour to come up with that one line?” your lower lip jutted out in a faux pity-pout.

you’re sweet, he thinks. sweet as the scent of peaches on your breath when you leaned in so he could hear you; he’s sure you’ll taste sweet, too.

“is it working? or am i gonna have to take another half an hour to get you to dance with me?” you entirely forget about your friends, and how they were probably (definitely) unsuitable to be without their slightly-less intoxicated friend.

but he was peering at you like some sort of heaven-sent angel. or maybe a siren— they all mix up once you’re drunk enough.

everybody got more pushy, and he stumbled forward, invading your personal space like it might as well be his. his hand gripped the worn wooden countertop, hovering just above you as you stared up at him.

“so are you gonna tell me your name or am i gonna have to keep calling you ‘handsome’?” it was his turn to scoff, though the cheeky smile that tugged on his lips gave him away. there he was, all prepared and worked up to be the one to make the moves, and you were showing him up. poor thing.

“frank. my name’s frank.” you repeated his name back to him, rolling it around on your tongue to see how it tasted; he looked as though he could keel over. “now do i get yours as a reward?”

he didn’t miss the way your eyes narrowed at his offer, as if you liked the idea of rewarding him for being good. a few minutes in and he already had an idea about your type.

still, you remained silent. frank thought it was only fair, right? his in exchange for yours. that, or that dance.

but those eyes were just too piercing, so revealing, that you conceded, spilling your name like some sort of secret. still, the ridiculously loud music didn’t aid in setting the mood.

“so,” you loved the way your name sounded coming from him, “can i have that dance? or am i gonna have to beg for it?” everybody in the bar seemed to push you even closer, seemed to be in on it as he took another step forward. his cologne was penetrating, tobacco and cedar, and just a slight muskiness. his eyes drifted over your face, as if in an attempt to memorize it— they lingered on your lips.

“as much as i’d love to see that, and i would, i won’t torture you.” you replied, wistfully, holding out your hand princess-style. he grabbed it, pressing a kiss to your knuckles like being able to touch was a god-given gift and not the result of inebriation and a pretty face.

your friends had been too preoccupied to notice that you’d taken frank to the dance floor, how he followed behind you, pushing through the mass of people, like some sort of eager puppy.

you managed to find a small spot, but it was a tight fit. his body pressed flush against yours, and hesitant hands found your waist as his eyes met yours, wordlessly asking for permission. your small smile was enough to reassure him.

his grasp was strong, softly digging into your skin like he couldn’t stand to lose you. your arms wrapped around his neck; he held you as though you’d known each other for far longer than five minutes.

“…so, how’s your night been?” his smile widened, his lips parting to show off a white row of teeth. “what? sorry that i’m bad at small talk,” you groaned— there wasn’t really a need for small talk, and it seemed to amuse him that you wanted to get to know him like it was a date.

you both swayed to the rhythm of the song, loud and fast and somehow not there at all as you focused on him. he led and you followed, all the assurance in the world as he easily handled you.

“no, no, it’s okay. my night. well, i dunno, other plans fell through— was supposed to hang out with some of my buddies but they all flaked last minute. it was within reason, though, so no hard feelings.” even being only a few inches from your face, frank still had to project his voice. “i had nothing better to do than to get piss-drunk so here i am. but hey, turned out pretty well, wouldn’t you say?”

his hands crept down to your hips, giving a small squeeze and you inhaled sharply. frank had this easy-going charm to him, and you were starting to think that he could be a wonderful experience.

the lights dimmed to a light blue and red hues, painting his features those same colors as the song shifted to a slower, more grunge-type ballad. “to be determined. i’m not sure what you’re aiming for— you’re a little bold, aren’t you?”

he shrugged his shoulders, giving an innocent expression before speaking, “i’ll take whatever you give me, sweetheart. unless you wanna take whatever i give you?”

this fucking guy. your eyes narrowed, biting back a grin at his words. warm fingertips ghosted the small of your back before he pulled you impossibly closer. the bar was hot, so hot you were slightly sticky with sweat, but his searing warmth was tantalizing. “you sure you can handle me, sweetheart? you look like you need to be put in your place.”

“and what, you think you can do that? please, i’d love to see that.”

enough dancing, you needed frank now. you couldn’t let him say something like that, so subtly teasing, and get away with it. you reached to place your hand atop his, and he thought he’d messed up when you pulled it away from you, but instead you grabbed it and turned on your heel, tugging him across the bar.

you walked with a grace that was entrancing, and the click of your heels seemed to be deafening in such a loud, booming room. after pushing through and receiving a few drunken protests, you made it to the miraculously empty women’s restroom. you needed to wipe that stupid smirk off his stupid face.

he was giddy with excitement as you pushed him into the largest stall, the cold tile wall making contact with his back. he stayed put. the bathroom certainly wasn’t romantic in any way; it was a standard public restroom: dingy, fluorescent lights that needed to be fixed, and the stench of previous “experiences” and mistakes. and a hint of puked up alcohol, obviously.

his breath was already coming in short gasps, a high giggle resonating in the echoey bathroom. he pulled your hips to his, already searching for the beginnings of sweet friction. fucking dog. his tongue swept out to wet his lips, “are you gonna make me beg for it now? you sure are easy to rile up.”

you muttered a low, “shut up,” before slamming your lips onto frank’s. he was right, you tasted even better than you looked.

your lips were fervent and hungry, sliding between his own as you swallowed his soft moans. he tasted like the beers he was nursing earlier, with a hint of earthy tobacco. you chewed at his lip, pulling softly as he squeezed your ass, lifting you to your tip-toes.

frank could probably pass away; he planned on saving your mental image tonight, maybe regretting not saying anything on the drive home, but he was thanking the heavens above for liquid courage. your hand reached up to grip his face, forcing his mouth open for you to shove your tongue down his throat.

his tongue was slick and hot and fuck he was evangelical. although clumsy, his movements were dizzying with the enthusiasm of someone willing— no, desperate— to please.

he groaned into the kiss as your hand drifted down to palm him, his dick already semi-hard but twitching at the tease. your kiss turned almost aggressive, lips swollen and bitten and slick with each other’s saliva. you bit down hard enough to taste warm copper coat your tastebuds as you lapped up the small bead of frank’s blood.

the tight denim of his jeans was providing that delicious friction he so badly needed, his hips bucking forward as he essentially humped your hand. you couldn’t help the boastful smile that spread on your lips as you pulled away, connected by a string of saliva.

his brows furrowed and he leaned forward to recapture your lips, but you pulled back at the last second. you gave him a scolding look, watching with willful eyes as he responded to your touch. he was clinging to his composure, pretending like he wasn’t already going crazy.

frank gave a shaky laugh, a weak attempt to regain his illusion of control, “c’mon, you’re already done? you’re gonna have to do better if you want me to ‘learn my place’,” he quoted you. you’d make him eat his words.

in one swift movement, you undid frank’s belt with an ease that had him swallowing nervously in anticipation. then, you pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, sucking lightly before sinking down to your knees.

he thought you were absolutely gorgeous before, unbelievably so, but you were seriously angelic looking up at him. his chest rose and lowered with each labored breath, and you played it up as much as you could. your fingers tugged his zipper down painfully slowly, and that was enough to make him whimper in anticipation.

you could see the struggle on his pretty features, face all screwed up as he tried to not himself go too much. “it’s okay, ‘s okay, just let me take care of you,” you cooed, and he nodded weakly.

you pulled his jeans down to his thighs, his dick bulging through his briefs. the eye contact was too much as your began to mouth at him, your hot breath making him moan out your name like a plea.

all frank could was writhe as you tortured him, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like once you gave him your mouth. “fuck, hurry up, hurry up. stop being such a fucking tease and just suck it already,” he hissed, composure failing him.

you ceased your movements; he sure was a brat when he didn’t get what he wanted, huh? but you wanted to ruin him more than you wanted to antagonize him, so you dipped your fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs and gave a sharp tug, exposing him fully.

he gasped softly, like this wasn’t what he was bitching about seconds ago. “what, you shy?” you teased, earning a scoff and an eye roll. but he was quickly silenced once you wrapped your hand around his stiff length, giving him a few lazy strokes as he shuddered above you.

but it wasn’t enough, no, not nearly enough. frank let out an exasperated huff, his gaze locking onto yours as you started sticking sweet kisses to his tip, eyes doll-like and wide as you gauged his reactions. every single twitch, every microexpression and pitchy gasp sent heat straight to your core, your thighs clenching as your attempts to soothe your own ache, too.

your kisses trailed along his shaft, up his pelvis and along his lower stomach as you traced his inked-up skin. “look at you, honey, so pretty for me.” you looked up at him through dark lashes when your tongue parted your lips, giving him little kitten licks, the slight salt of precum coating your tongue.

your knees were beginning to get sore, but you pushed through; you weren’t even nearly close to being done yet. frank’s spine tingled, skin covered in goosebumps and a slight sheen of sweat— the bathroom was awful cold, but it only intensified the sharp contrast of the heat of your tongue.

your tongue lolled out and you slapped his cock onto it, making a show of the drool dribbling down your chin. with shaking fingers he pushed your hair out of your face, grabbing your chin with his thumb and index with an almost startling admiration filling his gaze. he looked like he could burst into tears because you were just so stunning.

slowly, you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, tongue swirling at his slit as you hollowed out your cheeks. frank swore he could see stars, was sure he was already trembling as he peered down at you, admiring you and your work and those fucking lips of yours.

frank’s hand flew to your hair as you took more of his dick in your mouth, your cheeks caving in around his length as he filled your throat. tears formed in your waterline; you only had half of his cock and his tip was already kissing your uvula, making you gag around him. you pumped what you couldn’t fit into your mouth, needing more of his mewls and whines. each convulsion of your throat was sweet heaven as you bobbed your head, lewd slurps and his pretty moans echoing and ringing out, filling the bathroom.

he tried not to pull your hair, but fuck, you made it so hard and he just had to make you go faster— you were being so mean. “ah— fuck, baby, you’re so good, so, so good, taking me so well,” frank purred, barely able to string together a sentence that wasn’t interrupted by his wanton whimpers. “i think you can take it all, can you do that for me, sweetheart? wanna choke on my cock?”

arrogant bastard— he was good and he knew it— how was he whining like a slut above you and still spewing such filth? but his sweet words went straight to your pussy, already soaking through your pretty lace panties. you nodded, lashes clinging together with tears as you struggled to catch your breath.

you pulled off him with a wet pop, throat burning and mascara effectively ruined, gasping for air and letting out a few coughs. he held your hair back, stroking your cheek like a lover would and not some guy you’re blowing in a dirty bar bathroom. he looked at you like a lover.

frank’s heart was pounding in his ears; he wasn’t sure what he did to get so lucky but he was thankful as all hell. he wiped your chin to clean you— or, tried to— of your bubbly spit, your makeup already smeared around your mouth. his stomach twisted at the sight of your wrecked face: lips all wet and swollen, tear streaks staining your face and catching the bright lights, making you look almost like you were sparkling.

without warning, you gulped up his cock again, this time much slower as you struggled to fit his entire length in your mouth. your eyes screwed shut as he invaded your throat, tilting your head back to try and make it easier. frank’s moans of anguished pleasure were so worth it, though, and only fueled you and stroked your ego.

god, you were seriously too good to be true. frank’s vision blurred with unshed tears, too, and he couldn’t help but buck his hips forwards. you gagged around him, brows furrowing as more glistening tears ruined your makeup. you gave a muffled giggle; you’d let him use you if that was what he wanted. you stilled as he did all the work, hips jumping forwards in sporadic bursts, and each time your nose met his pelvic bone, his cock shoved down your throat, he swore he couldn’t take it anymore.

his expression got even more and more anguished, mouth hung wide open as he spewed obscenities and your name like it was some sort of unholy prayer. he gave a single tug to your hair, the soft strands tangled in his grasp, and pulled you off of him. you gasped like you’d been at the bottom of an olympic swimming pool and just resurfaced for air. your chest was slick and shiny with your own saliva— you were sure you looked straight out of a wet dream, but frank still gave you a hand and helped you to your feet, pressing his lips to yours once he could.

it was a little strange, really— there he was, pulling you closer by your waist, cupping your cheek while he kissed you gently and whispered thank you’s in between, and all because you sucked him off. it didn’t matter though, it was like he just knew you, as silly as that sounds.

his tongue slid against yours, and he groaned as he tasted himself, the sweetness of fresh peaches mixed with a subtle saltiness. so, so sweet. his lips trailed kisses down your jawline, sucking purple bruises into your throat that he’d abused only minutes ago. your moans were soft as he marked you up; frank had to make sure you’d remember this, that this would be more than just a good fuck.

a fairytale romance was far-fetched, and it wasn’t the start of any fairytale he’d ever heard before, but you have to start somewhere, right? he lapped at your neck, kissing and sucking along your collarbone, his spit mixing with your own. his hand lowered to your hip, and he flipped you to face the wall, grabbing your hips roughly.

“wanna be inside you, pretty girl. is that okay, baby? please, just wanna fuck you so badly, please?” he pleaded in your ear, his fingers already sliding up your thighs and lifting your dress up. you nodded feverishly, voice hoarse when you spoke, “uh-huh, please, frank, need you to fill me up.”

you held onto the cold tile for support as he backed your ass up onto this throbbing cock, already pushing your dress up to pool at your waist. you heard him sigh dreamily, like the sight of you was one to witness.

frank took a moment to simply cherish you; your black lace panties all soaked and clinging to your folds, ready for him to worship. “shit, sweetheart. i wasn’t kidding when i said you were straight outta my dreams, god.” he bent down to press chaste kisses to your shoulder as he squeezed the plush of your ass. he pulled your panties to the side, not even bothering to get rid of them, and sunk his middle finger into your sopping wet cunt.

a broken moan escaped your lips as he pumped his finger in and out languidly, curling just right. it was his turn to earn your melodic sounds. “oh, yes, yes, yes. ah— fuck, thank you,” you mewled, voice crackly and breaking up. “need more, please frankie, need more.” he could’ve came right then and there; his nickname rolled off your tongue so easily, sounded sugary sweet. call him cheesy, call him naive, but this couldn’t just be a one-night thing.

he gave in, needing to please you, and dipped another finger into your hole, your walls clenching around the added digit greedily. frank only wished he could see your face, but the sight of his fingers disappearing inside your pussy would suffice. his thumb rubbed at your clit, heat pooling in your tummy as you shivered.

your wanton moans only grew louder, and you nearly screamed when he pulled his fingers out, your own hands clutching the wall like your legs were about to give up. frank licked his fingers clean, savoring the taste of your arousal like the finest delicacy. “you taste so yummy, sweetheart. gotta let me eat you out next time, wanna taste your pretty pussy,” he swooned, voice all dreamy-like. you decided not to comment on how he said “next time”, instead storing it for after— teasing purposes— and only smiled to yourself.

you were just about to protest his lack of touch when you felt frank line himself up to your entrance, tip spreading your folds, then his hips met your ass as his cock filled you up. the sting was momentary, your pussy adjusting to his size then fading into a dull ache. fuck.

“too much? i need you to talk to me, baby. wanna hear your voice, can you do that for me?” his voice was gentle and caring as he held your hips. “more, i can do more, i n-need more, frankie, please,” how could he deny you when you asked so nicely?

he pulled out, only to push back in, this time more deliberately. eventually, he found a steady pace, deep and deliciously torturous. each time, he sunk in even deeper, and each twitch and pulse of his dick made you cry out. you weren’t sure you could last; he was going so fucking slow.

he held your hair in his fist, the strands damp with sweat as was your entire body. your dress clung to you where it was bunched at your waist, and you were wearing far too much for frank’s liking. oh, how he’d so love to tear your lovely dress off, leave hand prints all over your smooth skin, make you his for longer than a few hours.

soon his thrusts turned harsher, the lewd slapping of skin and the heavy perfume of sex filling the stall. he whimpered your name like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality, “you’re too perfect, god, so, so perfect, baby. taking me so well, does that feel good?” you nodded fervently, unable to speak, you were so choked up.

“just wanna make my baby feel good…” frank whispered, and you could practically hear the smile that tugged at his lips at his own words. he pressed his fingers to your clit, parting your slick folds as he rubbed at the throbbing pearl. too much, too much, you were almost there. your cunt took every inch of his dick effortlessly; you felt it in your tummy like a stomachache and, christ, was it dizzying.

your head was spinning as you cried out, “just like that, oh my god, ‘m so close, harder!” he let out a breathless laugh at how shameless you were. what happened to putting him in his place?

but he was never one to gloat, so he sped up, dick so impossibly deep inside you that it made your eyes roll back in your skull, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. your broken whines were interrupted by unintelligible babbling, his name and yes’s being the only thing he could make out.

your head lolled back as frank’s hand gripped your waist, pulling you forward as his hips snapped to meet your rear. he felt the telltale sign of his nearing orgasm, his balls drawing up painfully tight as your walls clenched around his cock like a vice grip.

the heat in the pit of your tummy grew uncomfortable as frank fucked relentlessly into you. “oh, god, frank, i’m gonna— ah!” your thighs trembled as you went deadly still. the moan you let out as you came on his cock was one of pure agony and blinding, overwhelming pleasure. “god— shit!” your pussy spasmed and clenched around his length as your orgasm wrecked you. he pulled out of you with a shaky hand, giving himself a few pumps until you felt his warm load paint your lower back.

it took you a moment to regain mobility in your limbs, frank holding you up like a ragdoll. when you did, a breathless laugh left your lips; his, however, were trailing worshipful kisses along your shoulder blade, whispering soft praises about how good you did. your own release coasted your inner thighs, sticky and hot. you felt sore all over.

once he was sure you could support your own weight, he stepped away to grab some toilet paper and wiped you clean, pulling your (ruined) panties back and lowering the skirt of your dress. once you were dressed, he tucked himself back into his briefs and tugged his jeans back up. he had this stupid smile on his face, one that made you tilt your head in confusion and ask what he was so giggly about.

“i thought you were gonna make me beg for it. you sure love to make empty promises, don’t you?” you smacked his shoulder, rolling your eyes at how he just had to brag about it. “don’t act like you weren’t begging me to suck your dick earlier.” you moaned exaggeratedly, calling out your own name as you mocked him. “you should be grateful i even let you touch me, honey.”

he laughed, pulling you into his arms by the small of your back. “i am! thank you. you were so good.” he sealed his promise with a sweet kiss, his lips moving against yours like he was yours and you were his.

you tangled your fingers in his hair, giving a small tug when his tongue brushed up against yours. the contrast in his movements now compared to just a few moments earlier left you reeling; you felt like a teenager being kissed for the first time again. he was so gentle, like he was afraid you’d crack and shatter if he held you wrong. frank thanked his lucky stars that his friends had bailed on him.

to your dismay, he broke the kiss, gazing at you adoringly as he held your cheek. you leaned into his touch, the warmth of his fingers melting you inside and out. “there’s still time for me to beg, y’know. let me take you home. please?” those eyes again, all soft and doe-like, his waterline glistening with tears.

“aren’t you quite the gentleman?” you teased, eliciting a dopey grin from frank. “i guess you’ve earned it…” you can’t very well cuddle on the bathroom floor of a bar, now can you?

[operaticsk3leton]

wish i could tell you

gerard way x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

tags: teenage love, fluff, mutual pining, prom, fem pronouns used, self-deprecation, idk honestly, song lyrics used

a/n: hello sorry i’ve been gone for like ever, writer’s block is killing me send well wishes. anyways this is based off of 7 minutes in heaven (atavan halen) by fob. fun fact this was the first story i ever wrote for this account which is why it’s so strangely written. not proofread and there’s also a surprise at the end xo romie ❦

just your luck. prom night, and you’re spending it alone like a loser; sitting out dances on the wall, trying to forget everything that isn’t him.

how long has it been, and at what point does it get weird? freshman year, maybe. only 14 years old the first time you laid eyes on him, and since then you’ve been hopelessly, pathetically in love. you don’t even think he really knows you exist besides whenever he glances at you in class on the odd occasion. being a teenage girl in love is hard; being a lousy tag-along at your prom is even worse.

you’d asked him out to prom by some miracle and sheer nerve, and it took just about everything in you to not puke all over his shoes when you spoke to him. you’re friends with him, but certainly not as close as you’d wish. not like his little ragtag group he wanders the halls with. but, he’d never been anything except perfectly polite. so, with that in my mind, you thought, hey, what’s the worst that can happen?

“we can all go together!” is the worst that can happen. of course, you’d managed to stumble over your words and forgot to clarify that you meant as his date, and with no audacity left, you meekly accepted with a weak smile and a jerky head nod.

that’s how you ended up here, leaning against a cold brick wall outside of the gym, the biggest hits of 2004 becoming a soft, drowned out melody in the background as the brisk air nips at your cheeks. it’s not like you were having a terrible time, it was just kind of… awkward.

none of the boys were dancing or anything, just talking amongst themselves at the table where the group sat as you somehow excluded yourself. you couldn’t really join in on their riveting chatter about d&d, but they were still sweet to have you tag along.

you’re in a dress much too unlike yourself to be comfortable in it; all the baby blue satin, glitter, beaded stitching, fabric flowers, and sweetheart necklines in the world don’t make you forget about how lame you feel. your heels hurt your feet, your matching blue opera gloves feel silly, and you feel much too dressed up in your fancy hair-do and makeup. isn’t this the part of the story where the love interest finally notices her?

you guess it’s your fault, really. you’re the one who wanted to make the most out of your junior year, or whatever; the final year before everything’s all about college, the final “fun” year.

and in that idealistic dream in your head, you’d arrive on gerard’s arm, his date, and not walking in awkwardly next to his group of friends. it’s a miracle you even got him to let you join his group. at least you’re not totally alone; can’t have your cake and eat it too.

does he even know how devoted you are? is that pathetic? to be so obsessed and in love with someone who doesn’t even know it, and who definitely doesn’t reciprocate it? in your wildest daydreams, sure, he’s been feeling the same way and wants you just as much.

but the bubble bursts, and you’re back to being the same sullen girl sitting out her junior prom while the object of your affections is inside, probably talking about cartoons or comics or music with his friends.

no, he doesn’t know, you decide. how could he? he’s kind of… daze-y, always in his own world, in some far off daydream. you just wanna be in his fictitious worlds, too.

just as you’re in the middle of your teen angst, nursing a cup of spiked punch, the loud clanging of a heavy metal door shutting snaps you out of your brooding, your eyes darting to a figure walking in your direction.

gerard, looking huffy and exasperated in his black tux, runs a hand through his hair as he leans against the wall a few feet away from you. he doesn’t seem to notice you, the inky night veiling you as he reaches into his coat pocket. he pulls out a cigarette and lights it, muttering to himself as the bright flame illuminates his face. it’s a little creepy to stare, but god, he’s so beautiful.

you swallow harshly, your mind already running rampant with silly fantasies of turning this night around, becoming the girl to save him and make him realize that it’s been you all along! a sweet cliché; one night won’t redeem three years of awkward stares and shy smiles. definitely not enough to make him feel the same way.

his smoke curls in grey wisps, floating on the cool wind as some tendrils frame his pretty face. he’s yet to notice you, but he looks well disgruntled. you mull over your options— you could speak up and finally do something about the dull ache, or you could let this pass like you always do.

you did technically ditch him and his group to come out here, but not out of ill intent, only insecurity; you were feeling kind of left out, anyways. but before your mind stops you, you clear your throat, and his head whips in your direction at the sound.

shit.

god, he had never felt more stupid in his entire life.

were you asking him out to prom as his date? was that what this was? you had this look on your face that he couldn’t quite read, like you were almost… hopeful? or maybe it was just that he couldn’t handle looking at you for longer than a few seconds. couldn’t stand to look at you because if he did, maybe those eyes of yours— fuck, those eyes— would see right through him.

would see just how hopelessly, devastatingly in love with you he is.

“just talk to her, man. she’s nice. what’s the worst that can happen?” mikey’d groan, sick of gerard gushing about how you lent him a pencil in your 5th period, or how you did your hair different that day, how pretty you looked when you read, how you chewed your lower lip while solving a problem— it sounded almost stalker-ish, really.

and gerard’d always respond with the same old, “no, dude, i can’t. she’s so… everything, and i’m just— i’m just me,” and he’d kiss his teeth and roll over onto his stomach, sighing loudly like a petulant child.

it was pointless, or at least he thought it was. what could he give you that some other boy couldn’t? no one had ever liked him, or they never made it apparent, and it seemed unfathomable that you could by the one to finally change that. to finally see something where everybody else sees nothing.

“worst case scenario, you don’t tell her you like her and you can be friends. best case scenario, she likes you back. c’mon, man, i feel like i know her just from the way you talk about her.”

right, like it’s that simple.

“hey! gerard, can i,” he jerked subtly as you tapped him on the shoulder, looking around as if anybody else had the same name. “sorry, can i talk to you?”

he had been on his way to 4th period when you tapped him. “i don’t mean this to sound, like, weird or something, but, um… prom’s coming up soon. if you didn’t know— i mean, you probably did, sorry.” you swallowed harshly, your throat suddenly feeling raw and swollen, and the words tumbled out, “but, um, i was just wondering if you were going?”

gerard still had his eyes glued to his shoes, and you were starting to wonder if this was a horrible mistake. his lack of eye contact, how he was tugging at the frayed edges of the sleeves of his blazer, was making you queasy; had you done something wrong? you rack your brain, running through every minimal interaction with him, but you couldn’t find anything.

“i don’t— i don’t really know, honestly. what about,” he cleared his throat, his voice peaking at the end, “what about you?”

“oh, well, i dunno, i mean. i kind of wanna go? i just don’t have… anyone to go with. not that that’s like a problem, or whatever! i was just gonna ask you if, maybe, if you’re okay with it,” you steel yourself, your heart doing somersaults as you prayed for the best, “maybe we could go together?”

gerard wasn’t sure he heard you right. go together. together. he could’ve sworn that his heart sunk to his ass; what did you mean by that? a date? was that an invitation to be your prom date?

what could he have possibly done to be so fortunate? he thanks his lucky stars for the fact that you’re even talking to him, but his hands begin shaking as he remembers you’re still waiting for a response. shit, what was he supposed to say? fuck, fuck, fuck.

“we can all go together!” he blurted out, then immediately regretted it as soon as the words rolled off his tongue. “i mean, like, with my friends. i’m sure they’d wanna go, too. you know frank and mikey and ray, right? yeah, er— i wouldn’t wanna, y’know, leave them out.”

his gaze flitted across the beige walls, to posters promoting spring sports, prom, upcoming events, and the words seemed to jumble together as he struggled to form a sentence.

“…yeah! no, yeah! o-of course, that sounds good! um… yeah, we can go, like, as a group. totally!”

gerard ran home that day and begged his friends to go to prom through a rushed and intelligible phone call.

begrudgingly, they agreed, simply due to how utterly desperate gerard sounded. he pleaded and pleaded, explaining how if he went alone with you, he’d make a total ass of himself and then there was no way you’d ever like him.

“she asked you out as her date, dumbass. why would you say we could go as a group? now she probably thinks you’re not into her or something,” ray sighed, gerard’s pitchy whining muffled through the receiver.

“i panicked! she was just— she caught me off guard! how the fuck was i supposed to know she meant as a date? it’s not like she said that, and i didn’t wanna seem creepy if she just meant as friends or something!” gerard almost shrieks, much to the dismay of frank and ray who are on the line.

“please guys, please. i’ll literally never ask you guys for anything ever again, i promise! if i go by myself, i’ll just be super weird— please. i need you guys to go.”

the weeks came and went, and before he knew it, the night of prom rolled around and he had never been so stressed in his short life. he seriously contemplated just not going at all, pacing in front of his mirror, muttering about how you’d notice this or that, how his coat fit him just a little too big, how his hair just couldn’t behave, oh, god, did he smell bad? shit, he should—

“hey, you know you’re saying all this shit aloud, right? you look fine, dude, chill. she’s gonna think you look fine. she asked you out, remember?” mikey interjected, snapping gerard out of his spiraling. he took a shaky breath and tried to tell himself it would all be okay.

nothing was okay. oh my gosh, nothing was okay.

the moment you walked in, he could’ve sworn that a meteor hit him smack dab between the eyes; he had never, ever seen anything more beautiful than he did when you walked into the otherwise dull gymnasium with your baby blue dress, the sparkles glimmering beneath the light of the disco ball as you seemed to glow. there was just no way you could be real.

you had to be something his lonely mind dreamt up; just too good to be true.

you walked up to their table as soon as you spotted the boys, already chattering away happily. gerard stood up to greet you, shaking your hand much too formally and you chuckled at his antics before sitting in the empty seat next to his. your heart could leap out of your throat you were so nervous.

it was just so painfully awkward. gerard was such a wreck and such a bad “date” that mikey, frank, and ray were all watching in second-hand embarrassment as the two of you struggled to keep a steady conversation.

“you— you look r-really pretty. your dress, i mean. your dress is really pretty,” he tried to save lamely, hoping he wouldn’t come across creepy. you only smiled shyly and nodded, a soft “thank you, you too. i’m glad we could, um, do this,” barely audible over the blaring music as the words tumbled from your lips.

he figured you were bored. you certainly seemed to be, the way you kept to yourself, eyes wandering around the gym as you people-watched, attention anywhere but with gerard or the rest of the table.

elated teens filled up the space, laughter harmonizing with whatever was playing over the speakers. you admired, sighing as you so badly wish that was you. why did they get what you wanted, seemingly without even trying?

people tend to be the most beautiful when they think they aren’t being seen.

the same was true with you.

gerard was sure he was going crazy. every time he opened his mouth to talk, tilted his head in your direction to maybe make eye contact with you, it seemed like every single one of his muscles tensed up and stopped him from doing anything. so instead he just sat there and talked to his buddies about the same old things, all the while his mind kept drifting over to you.

“they were so fucking good, dude, oh my god. it was like billy was singing to me. totally worth the lecture from my ma, i swear,” mikey gushes in reference to the smashing pumpkins show he went to last sunday. “you sound like those fangirls, mikes,” frank teases with a smug grin, ray laughing as he agrees.

gerard tunes out the voices of the other guys as he watches you stand up from your seat, the chair scraping against the floor as you push it in and walk towards the back door of the gym. he blinks, and you’re gone.

like you were always just a dream.

“gerard? you okay?”

his eyes widened as he recognized the voice coming from the darkness. he inhales once more, lungs constricting from the smoke as he holds it a little too long before breathing it back out. the tiny ache in his chest seems to remind him that tonight is real, that he’s real and you’re real and you’re both out here, joined by the night sky and he loves you and he has no idea how to tell you.

your heels clack lowly against the concrete of the basketball court as you step towards him, a tight smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“you look… not so good, honestly,” you laugh and he joins you, shaking his head in amusement. he just felt so stupid.

after you left, he sat there, dumbstruck and disappointed and disillusioned. all the self-hatred began to bubble up, and suddenly all the laughter in the gym was towards him. how come they had it so easy? how come they just somehow knew, how come he couldn’t just be normal?

but he was never very good at sorting through his feelings. “hey, don’t worry, man. i’m sure she just needed some air or something, it’s super hot in—” frank’s consolations were only met with a scowl and a jerk of the table as gerard rushed away the same you had gone.

he thought maybe you just went home, though. his cheeks reddened as he saw you, finally illuminated by the dying led lights that lined the gym’s roof. you managed to be just as beautiful with that somber, let down expression on your face.

“hey, um… i’m really sorry if, like, you didn’t wanna come with me or something. i didn’t mean to make you feel pressured. i feel kind of lame, actually. i invited you just to ditch you.” you swallow, unsure where the words were coming from. “but yeah, i dunno. sorry for ruining your prom, i guess.”

you always manage to make him feel so speechless. you felt guilty for ruining his prom. you felt guilty for giving him an opportunity he’d been praying for in every glance, every smile, every word.

he lets the cigarette fall to the concrete, the ember nearing his finger, and squashes it with his hand-me-down shoe. he laughs bitterly— where does he even begin?

“no, no, not at all! you didn’t ruin anything. please don’t apologize, it’s not your fault at all. it’s me. i’m just… i don’t know how to be around you.”

your stomach sinks. here he goes, he’s gonna tell you to stay away from him, how weird you are, how you’re not slick and your pining is so obvious and to just—

“i just admire you so much. i sometimes watch you, in like, the least creepy way possible, and i-i wanna be friends with you, y’know? not that we’re not already friends! kind of, but, um, just closer? i wanna know you and understand you, and i think we’d make good friends, actually. but i’m just so bad at talking to people, especially pretty girls and…”

“you think i’m pretty?”

he hadn’t realized that had slipped. you had this soft look to your features, your smile warm and shy, and it was getting harder to not kiss you.

“…well, yeah. i mean, of course, but. that’s not the point, and i… fuck, you made me forget what i was on about.”

for the first time tonight your anxiety eases as you two stare at each other, nervous smiles soothing the other.

“you make it sound like i’m some sort of unapproachable jerk or something,” you joke, immediately holding your hand up once his eyes shoot open.

“can i tell you something and you promise you won’t think i’m totally weird?”

gerard nods. whatever it is, he could never think any differently of you. “anything.”

you hesitate. then you don’t, and you hear your voice before you can think it through. “i’ve always had this… massive, super embarrassing, honestly-really-pathetic-and-lame crush on you that i just can’t seem to get rid of.”

gerard swears his heart stops beating in his chest. then, “why would i want you to get rid of it?”

divider by @uzmacchiato

surprise! cliffhanger! (my laziness consumes me)

[operaticsk3leton]

i’ve been working on this gerard x reader fic where they’re at prom and they like each other but don’t know it and i genuinely don’t know wtf to do with it </3 somebody anybody tell me if they would wanna read that :( i’m working on requests rn, keep leaving them!! i love you all xo romie ❦

[operaticsk3leton]

hii!! i saw that you take requests i was wondering if you could write a fluff fic about teen ryan ross x teen reader just hanging out in readers bedroom and listening to cds and just hanging out and ryan ends up sleeping over to avoid going home and dealing with his dad. /nf!!

hii okay so i actually kind of lost the plot w this one im so sorry 😭😭 hopefully you still enjoy it somewhat but thank you for the request!!

the resolute urgency of now

ryan ross x reader

word count: 1.6k

tags: teen!ryan ross, teen!reader, gn!reader, fluff, angst (if you squint it’s really just context), teenagers in love, cuddling, mentions of alcohol abuse, comfort, established relationship, i’m so bad at tagging

a/n: i listened to the tonight, tonight cover by panic while writing this. yes it’s inspired by that song i love that cover so bad oh my god. i honestly forgot what i was doing at some point oops. anyways as always not proofread enjoy xo romie ❦

ryan loves his dad. he loves his dad because he works tirelessly to be able to afford the hefty fifteen thousand dollar price tag that comes with his private school, always cheers the loudest whenever ryan scores in his hockey games, always tells him how proud he is to have ryan as his son.

but he can’t help but hate his dad, too.

he hates the way his father finds solace at the bottom of countless bottles, the way he calls him ungrateful for not wanting to go to college when he’s had far too many, the way he calls ryan a pansy for his passions. hates the way he calls his dreams of focusing on music ridiculous and useless.

but he could never bring himself to say it aloud. although, his father can tell. can tell by the way ryan looks at him like he’s not even there— like he’s seeing past him— the way he goes quiet and has a constant scowl whenever ryan talks to him. he can’t say it aloud; how could he? how could he hate somebody who works so hard to give him a good chance? but they both knew.

so instead, ryan just spends a little too much time with you, or at band or hockey practice, avoiding his dad as much as possible. it almost always works out, too, what with the man usually being passed out on the couch or slumped over like a crumpled shell at the dining table, empty beer cans littering the space and creating a shameful halo around him.

ryan found himself depending more and more on your company, the fact that you would always be around whenever he needed it. best friends forever— it was a silly promise made on a playground as children, tiny pinkies interlocking as you both swore that you would never leave one another behind, that you would always be as close as they were that day by the swingset.

and surprisingly, you never once had any reason to believe that the promise would ever be broken. if anything, you had only become closer. so close that eventually he got this sickly feeling in his stomach whenever you were around. it started off subtle, his heart rate picking up every time you gave him that smile, your eyes bright and crinkly, the apples of your cheeks soft as they framed your grin.

then, it was in the way he wanted so badly to be whoever you needed him to be. to make you happy, to see you succeed— whether it was you acing your chemistry test or listening to your dreams about your future and knowing without a doubt that you would someday make it.

but, it became overwhelming. so much so that he’d get all stuttery and clumsy around you in a way that was confusing and frankly embarrassing. his head would run rampant with daydreams of you, what you thought of him, if you even thought of him the same way he thought of you. turns out, you did.

you were convinced you were losing your best friend. your sophomore year was as close to “distant” as the two of you ever got in the ten years you had been his best friend. ryan had always been so open with you, so honest and unapologetically himself. he had this shy exterior that seemed to melt away with the warmth of your presence, leaving behind the ostensibly cocky, impassioned artist he was.

and yet, you couldn’t get rid of that nagging feeling that he was drifting away from you. he became quiet— reserved, even. shrunk into himself.

but ryan was driving himself crazy trying to be somebody who he thought you might fall for.

you tried so hard to believe that everything was the same, that nothing had changed. that you were still those little kids who promised they’d always be best friends.

the summer before your junior year, you told him you needed to know the truth; he had never been so anxious in his life. it only took your voice getting wobbly with emotion and your lip trembling as you tried not to cry for ryan to see just how wrong he had been in approaching this. interrupting your shaky plea for him to tell you what you had done wrong, he blurted out how sorry he was, sorry because he had fallen in love with you and he was so afraid that he would lose you.

“and i know you don’t feel the same, and i know i’ve been acting weird but i just— i didn’t know what to do, and this doesn’t have to change anything, like at all. you’re still my best friend and we can just pretend like this never happened, please? i just—”

you never failed to make him breathless, never failed to make him feel like he could lift off the ground if he didn’t plant his feet hard enough. he could’ve sworn he would’ve floated into the stars had he not held onto you while you kissed him with all the fervor of your pent-up affections. neither of you needed to say anything to know that things had changed, but only in the purest, sweetest way possible.

it had been the third day in a row that ryan got home from school and found his father piss drunk, slurring and stumbling around the house. the sight made him queasy and hot with resentment, wanting to scream and cry all at once. instead, his footsteps were heavy as he rushed to his bedroom, flung his backpack on the floor, and headed back out the front door towards your house.

he knew he was always welcome in your home; your parents absolutely adored him, and knew of his situation, so they always tried their hardest to make your home a sanctuary for him.

and it always was. you greeted him with nothing but that perfect smile that he’s so infatuated with, the same one that he’s dreamed about and lost sleep over.

you led him to your room, and he stood in the corner awkwardly before stepping out of his sneakers and slinking his arms around your waist.

“missed you, pretty boy,” you murmur into his hair— although you saw him in the morning— as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume as you hum softly. you nearly stumble as he begins taking steps forwards, still clinging to you in a tight embrace, until the backs of your knees hit your bed.

you pull away from his grasp, walking over to your shelf and skimming your cd collection before picking in and out of luck, one that you and ryan both adore. you put on the cd and lie down, patting the spot next to you invitingly.

he climbs onto the mattress, his weight making the memory foam dip as he settles atop you, his arms draped lazily over your form as he nestles his face in your chest. the soft thump of your heartbeat instantly soothes him, the dull headache that had been lingering all day easing up.

your fingers card through his hair, your nails scratching his scalp just right, his eyelids fluttering shut at the sensation. he holds you tighter, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets you go.

“my dad’s already bugging me with college applications— he just doesn’t listen, i swear. he doesn’t think i can make the band work. i mean, yeah, it’s risky, but spencer’s parents support him, mostly. i just wish he believed in me or something, y’know?” he breathes, like a great weight is being lifted off his chest. “and then i got home and he was drunk again… i hate when he does that shit. i didn’t even talk to him, just came straight here.”

his voice is solemn as he goes on his mini tangent, teetering on the edge of exasperation like he’s sick of getting worked up about the same things over and over again. your hands drift down his torso, fingers dipping beneath the hem of his shirt and pressing against the smooth expanse of his back as if to ground him. “he’s just… you’ll prove him wrong, ry. i mean, in a few years you won’t even have to worry about him, and you’ll have your band and your friends. you’ll have me.”

the way you hold him is enough to make him forget, even if just for this moment. it’s times like these that ryan’s reminded of just how lucky he is to have you, how undeserving he feels to have someone as special as you. to have someone like you love him, see him, like nobody else has before. it’s juvenile, sure, to think you’ve found your soulmate at 16, but what else is he supposed to do? it’s all-consuming, what he feels for you. it’s what keeps him sane, what keeps him afloat amidst a sea of turmoil. it’s you.

the final song comes to an end, and you get up to change out the cd, humming as you look through your selection; you settle on take this to your grave. you pop the disc out of its case and place it into the player, the first track softly playing as you crawl back into bed with ryan. the silence is comfortable, and you know he’ll stay with you, will keep you close throughout the night, hold you and forget and pretend like nothing else exists.

the sun seems to dip below the horizon at an alarming speed, as though the world outside the four walls of your bedroom were rushing past you, the two of you stuck in a different timeline, one where everything stays the same and everything changes and time is never time at all.

divider by @uzmacchiato

[operaticsk3leton]

better in the dark

prorev!frank iero x reader

word count: 1.3k

tags: smut, prorev!frank iero, blindfold kink, quickie, piv, no pronouns but afab described, light degradation (m receiving), sub!frank iero, dom!reader, unprotected sex, creampie oops, begging, pwp tbh, anything else i forgot

a/n: this is rlly just for me honestly. blindfolded frank iero consumes me on a daily!! title isn’t inspired by the song i js didn’t know what else to title it. also not proofread but enjoy xo romie ❦

you don’t think he even intended for it to get you all worked up. it was just the way he played that night, deft fingers moving across the fretboard, sweat rolling off him in droplets and mouth hung open like it is whenever he’s moaning beneath you— all while blindfolded. the excitement of his performance went straight to between your thighs, heat blooming in your stomach; you wanted that show over right then and there.

as soon as the first set had ended and frank walked towards the wings of the stage away from view of the screaming fans, you yanked him towards an empty room, any room.

you find an abandoned dressing room and tug him inside, locking the door behind you. before he can get a word out, ask you what’s wrong, your lips crash against his. the force of the searing kiss causes him to stumble backwards against a wall and you swallow his surprised gasps and sharp grunts of pleasure as you nip at his bottom lip.

frank’s hands are already all over you, fingers settling on your hips to pull you flush against him before drifting down to squeeze your ass. his lips move against yours like if he stops kissing you he might cease to exist.

just as soon as it began, though, it’s over, and he can’t help but give a pitchy whine in protest. you have no idea how much time he has before the second set, but you know it’s not enough.

he still has that blindfold tied around his neck.

you lead him to a small couch and push him onto it. you climb onto his lap immediately, straddling him as he gazes up at you like you’ve already made him wait too long. a pair of inked up hands find your waist, pushing you down onto his semi. frank groans at the stimulation, his features screwing up all pretty as your hips start rolling in small circles.

in one movement, the white cloth is back over his eyes, a breathless slew of, “fuck, yes, please,” spurring you on.

blessedly, you palm him through his jeans, frank’s cock stiffening further and straining against the denim as you torture him. he only wishes he could see you, but the thrill of not knowing where you’ll touch him next is dizzying. “god, such a whore, aren’t you? so greedy, always taking whatever i give you, huh? they can probably hear you moaning like some slut, y’know that?” you coo, grinning as he squirms beneath you.

“uh-huh, yours, your slut- fuck— c’mon, please baby…” he babbles, unable to string together an intelligent sentence. “just— please, just fuck me already.”

frank’s whines only get louder, needier; in a moment of mercy, you make quick work of his jeans. he lifts his hips to help you as you yank the denim and his boxers down until they rest at his thighs. his cock springs out, already leaking precum from his slit, his tip a flushed shade of pink. your mouth waters at the sight and he shudders as you wrap your fingers around his length, giving him a few good strokes.

you get rid of your jeans entirely, tugging your soaked-through panties to the side. he starts getting impatient as you line the head of his cock up with your entrance, but a choked moan claws its way from his throat as he feels you sink down on him harshly.

you hiss softly at the subtle sting, but it soon turns to pleasure as you take a second to get used to him. no matter how many times you have him inside you, filling you up just right, you’ll always be stunned at just how big frank is. you lift your hips, hands settling on his chest for balance, before slamming them back down against his own. your name falls from his tongue desperately, “yesyesyes, fuck, baby, you’re so—” you cut him off with another sharp movement, earning a whine as a reward.

you soon find a sloppy rhythm, your pussy gulping up his perfect cock like that’s all it was made to do. his head tilts back against the couch, unable to do much else but writhe and moan since he can’t even see you. your hands use his shoulders to keep steady, soft moans coming from your lips as your walls clench around him maddeningly— god, you’re too much for him.

frank’s lack of vision allows him to focus solely on the feeling of you fucking yourself on his dick mindlessly. the wet squelch your cunt makes each time you sink back onto him is awe-worthy, and soon enough you’re trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses on his jaw and neck. you suck purplish-pinkish spots onto the flesh, tongue laving over the bruises once you’re through with your work. each press of your lips against his throat drives him crazy, the scent of your perfume invading his senses and making it all so much more intense.

he’s so deep, so so deep that it’s almost painful as his tip kisses your cervix, each time his hips jerk forward hitting a new angle. every twitch of his cock inside you makes you see stars, your pussy clenching spasming as if sucking him back in, needing to keep him merged with you. heaving and thighs quivering, your quick movements come to a lull as you try to regain your breath.

you take the time to just watch as his brows furrow in confusion at how you’ve slowed down, a pitiful whimper from his lips making you all sorts of hot. “wanna cum, baby, please can i? i’m so close, please, need to…” you’d let him plead, make him beg just to get your approval, but a sharp knock on the door and a ten minute warning from one of the crew has you slapping a hand over his mouth. once the steps fade into silence, your pace picks back up, even faster, unforgiving, as you rush for time.

you didn’t think frank could get needier, but somehow he has, his whines getting higher in pitch while his hands start helping you with each brutal slam of your hips against his. his grasp is tight enough that you know it’ll leave pretty bruises along the smooth skin. you could deny him his orgasm, make him go back out there all worked up and frustrated as his release becomes a distant memory, but…

“baby,” he drawls, and it’s enough to rid you of your cruel intentions.

pressure builds low in your tummy, your breathing becoming erratic as your impending climax is just within reach. to your shared delight, you use his dick selfishly, sinking down on his throbbing length with reckless abandon. his tone becomes unmistakably bratty as he begs once more to cum. “please— need it so bad. you’re being mean, please just let me cum, baby, please!”

you nod, forgetting he’s still blind. “only because you asked nicely.”

at that, frank goes rigid, mouth falling open in a loud moan as his features become almost agonized. his orgasm is sweet, white-hot bliss, tears welling in his eyes as he screws them shut beneath the blind fold. warm ropes of his seed spurt inside your aching pussy, the sight of his pleasure enough to tip you over the edge, too. your muscles tense up, thighs shaking as your orgasm washes over you in waves, leaving you breathless and reeling.

a blinding light, then frank is met with the sight of you, flushed and looking well-fucked with a woozy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. he can’t help but chuckle and pull you in for a sloppy kiss, muttering thank you’s against your lips. you climb off his lap hurriedly, remembering that he needs to get on stage soon. you’re both cleaned up and dressed just as a yell of his name is heard through the door, thankfully.

exhausted, yet somehow even more worked up than he was 20 minutes ago, he gives you one final peck before running off. you laugh as you get a glance at gerard’s unamused expression. next time, you might as well fuck on stage.

[operaticsk3leton]

yellow!! saw your requests were open, so may I request a ryan ross or gerard way x fem!reader?? it can be what ever genre u want hehee. thank you so muchiesss!! 💕

hiii yes thank you for the request!! doing ryan bc he doesn’t get enough fics on here, but i’ll have a gerard fic up hopefully soon… anyways sorry that it’s so short!! had no direction for it at the end 😭

7:42 am

prettyodd!ryan ross x fem!reader

word count: 0.6k

tags: fluff, pretty odd era p!atd, established relationship, cuddling

a/n: baby’s first ficlet thank you anon!! listened to behind the sea while writing this, and had no idea where it was going sorry! not proofread so please excuse any mistakes. but enjoy and please leave requests!! xo romie ❦

you groan softly as early morning light seeps in through the curtains; a rude awakening to whatever sweet dream you were having. the sun insists on you getting up and seizing the day, and the incessant chirping of birds only irritates you further.

begrudgingly, you attempt to sit up so that you can start your far too early day, but an arm tugs you back down and pulls you against a warm body. “‘m tired. stay,” you hear ryan mutter against your skin, voice low and gravelly with sleepiness.

he didn’t even bother to fully change out of his clothes last night— he’d been so exhausted from a long day full of interviews and press that as soon as he got home at around 11 pm, he undid his tie, threw his button-up somewhere to be forgotten on the floor, and knocked out in his slacks.

all the interviewers were so painfully unoriginal, their questions redundant and vaguely condescending. “your new record— pretty. odd.— it’s so different from your debut! are you boys intentionally trying to rebrand yourselves?” and “from ‘emo’ heartthrobs to wannabe beatles; what’s with the harsh left turn? are you worried about how your fans will receive the new album?” were what most of the questions resembled. he couldn’t help but grow to hate interviews and the way none of the questions were about the music. that’s what he, and the other guys, cared about: the music.

he and brendon mostly got the creepier questions— overeager budding journalists who’d ask about their love lives, if they would “date a fan,” and all they could do was laugh awkwardly and subtly try to redirect the interview. it’d made ryan all too happy to flop into your shared bed at the end of the night and pull you into a tight hold, all of the tension in his body oozing out as he got comfortable against you.

but he’s especially clingy, even if not explicitly. it’s in the way his arms wrap around your waist, the way he tugs your back against his chest, his chin resting atop your shoulder as his nose nudges your cheek. soft huffs escape his parted lips and fan your jaw, your name coming out of his mouth in an almost dreamy-like sigh. “too early to get up…” he whispers, and you can’t find it in you to disagree.

he gets this week to himself in preparation for next tuesday, when the band is off to san diego for the first date of the tour. you’d been whining about how much you’d miss him and he’d tried to sate you, saying he’d email and call you as often as possible, but it still left you feeling all achy and restless when you thought about how you’d be without him for an extended period. apparently, this is him trying to make up for the time that’ll be lost.

“i can’t believe you wanna make me get up now when you know i’ll barely be getting any sleep for the next few months. you’re the worst girlfriend ever,” he teases, eliciting a huff of amusement from you.

his voice makes your heart do funny things inside your chest, his lips grazing your cheek as he speaks before he presses a lingering kiss to the plush flesh.

“i can’t believe you won’t take me with you. you’re the worst boyfriend ever.” he squeezes your hip lightly at that, and you settle against the pillows.

“i am, aren’t i? just so awful for trying to sleep in with my girl.” you roll your eyes and go lax in his arms as he gets you right where he wants you— soft and lazy and already being lulled to sleep by his slow breathing. you soak up his warmth; soon you’ll have to get used to the feeling of a cold bed.

[operaticsk3leton]

masterlist + rules ⭑.ᐟ

what i write ⟢

only x readers, fem! or gn!reader. my fav is dom! reader so there’ll probably be a lot of that on my blog.

what i won’t write ⟢

incest, stepcest, pedophilia, age play, zoophilia, noncon, scat, etc.

who i write for ⟢

gerard way, frank iero, mikey way, illi mcmillin, ryan ross ◡̈

please remember ⟢

be kind, be patient, be considerate. i’m not obligated to answer requests. if i don’t know how to write it, or i just don’t feel comfortable with it, i won’t write it. sorry babies :( i’m also too lazy to be checking or even care if everyone who reads my stuff is a minor or not, i am not responsible for the media you consume. if you don’t like something, simply dni!

my chemical romance .⋆♱

better in the dark

prorev!frank iero x reader

synopsis: frank playing blindfolded leads to a quickie in a dressing room

wish i could tell you

gerard way x fem!reader

synopsis: clumsy confessions at prom

taste

frank iero x fem!reader

synopsis: frank fucks you in a bar bathroom

panic! at the disco 🂡

7:42 am

prettyodd!ryan ross x fem!reader

synopsis: lazy mornings with ryan

the resolute urgency of now

teen!ryan x teen!reader

synopsis: ryan forgets about time with you