desolation row / bad boy wannabe gee n the reader is ACTUALLY like a hardcore criminal or whatever and she tops him yum 😋
DANGEROUS
⋆༺♱༻⋆
pairing: badboy!gerard x criminal!afab!reader
summary: you, a certified criminal, meet a wannabe in the bar that you take home and give the time of his life.
notes: this took me forever. Fuck. But i love it thank you for the idea <3 the title is a sleep token song, i thought it suited them. Lmk if you want more of these goobers
word count: 1963
NSFW BELOW THE CUT!
⋆༺♱༻⋆
You spot him first. Shaggy black hair, leather jacket, attitude too big for his britches at the end of the bar. A cigarette hung from his lips, and you wanted one for yourself.
Sauntering over, all low waisted leather flares and mystery, you lean against the edge of the bar and look over at him. His eyes lock on you immediately, gaze hungry.
"What you want?" He asks, voice gruff, puffing his smoke into your face. You frown slightly.
"A cigarette, sugar." You say, smooth and low, one hand on the bar and the other on your exposed hip. "Care to share?"
"No," he says with a chuckle. You chuckle along with him, laughing lightly until you discreetly pull your gun from your thigh holster and hold it to his ribs, cold metal poking into his side under his tattered leather jacket. You were turned to the side so no one could see, but he could sure as hell feel.
"You got one now?"
He's scrambling to hand you one, dropping the pack a few times, and you tuck your gun away quickly. No need for anymore dramatics, giving him a bright smile and tucking your hair behind your ear.
"Thanks, honey."
His eyes are wide as you place it between your lips, holding your hand out expectantly for a lighter. He places it in your hand, and you light and drag, puffing the smoke into his face - giving him a taste of his own medicine.
"Name?" You ask, sliding the lighter back over to him and crawling up onto the stool beside him.
"Gerard, you?" He says, and you can still hear his voice shaking, although he's trying to keep his cool. You tell him your name, and it looks like he's going to explode either from being turned on or terrified, you couldn't decipher.
"Didn't mean to spook you," You sigh, but you don't feel bad in the slightest. "People around here know better, so I guess you're not from around here."
"I ain't scared," he scoffs, and when you give him a cold look, his eyes widen again. "Alright, maybe a little. I like a strong woman, though."
"I think I might be a little more woman than you can handle."
"I think I can prove you wrong, sugar. I might be just the man you need."
"One who trembles from a girl with a gun? I think I'm set."
His hand is on your lower back, big and warm, and he's leaning over into your ear. "Let me show you somethin'."
The two of you are sliding off of your stools, and he takes your smaller hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he pulls you out of the bar - you hadn't even gotten to finish your cigarette yet, so you pouted, but you liked a man who could take charge.
He was dragging you through the alley, and stopped in front of a sleek black car - a corvette. Two seater.
"Are we supposed to fuck in this?"
"No, we're supposed to drive to where we can fuck." He says, lifting his keys from his pocket and dangling them on his fingers. You had to admit, the car was sexy - and if he was weird, you had a plethora of weapons all over your house - literally.
"My place."
"Hop in."
You're hopping into this stranger's car, which, you've done much worse in your life - you've shot many people, maybe killed a few too, you didn't stick around long enough to find out - so this wasn't too bad. Your feet are up on his dashboard, eyes lingering on him.
"I live on 21st,"
"So, right down the road? We could have walked."
"And pass up a chance to be in this sexy car?" You say, hand coming over to rest on his thigh, dragging your fingernails across the fabric of his jeans. "No way in hell."
He pulls up to your house - a big one. His eyes were wide as he stepped out, looking at the towering structure. He goes to open his mouth when the two of you walk through the door, but you bring your finger to his lips.
"Don't ask where I got the money. It'd pull you into shit up to your knees." You say, walking forward and tossing your jacket on the couch. You plop down, kicking off your shoes, crossing your legs and looking up at him as he awkwardly shifts, looking around at your decor. Dark, eclectic, rough. You were way more hardcore than he could even imagine pretending to be.
The house didn't really look scary, just the things in it. Knives, guns - all hanging from the walls like southern taxidermy decor. It felt empty, not physically, but emotionally. Like you never had time to be there - or like it might not be yours at all. It made him shiver to think of how you got it, but he could tell at least the weapons were yours.
"So I take it I just shouldn't ask what you do in general?"
"You'd regret it." You say, slipping your thigh holster down your leg and placing it on the coffee table. He walks over, sitting next to you on the couch. He stays still a while, watching you look at your nails and hum awkwardly. You looked innocent, but he could feel danger radiating off of you.
"So, tough guy, not making a move?" He was staring at the shotgun over the tv now, gulping. "Thought you were gonna fuck me."
Gerard looks over at you again, eyes slightly wider than usual as you crawl over to him on the couch, placing a hand on his thigh.
"Guess I'll have to fuck you, then, huh?" You say, climbing into his lap. You press your chest to his, running a hand through his messy black hair and down his neck, messing with the collar of his jacket. Your hand comes up to his throat, gently brushing your thumb over his jugular.
"Are you scared?" You ask, leaning forward and licking a long stripe below his ear. "Say something."
"Not scared, never scared," he says, hands coming up to your hips, his posture relaxing.
"Then touch me."
His hands are all over you and your mouths are crashing together, but you're in control, tugging his jacket off of him and tossing it to the side. You're nearly ripping his already-tattered shirt off of him, and he does the same for you, leaving the two of you in only your bottoms.
"You ever been told what to do before?" You say, gripping his cheeks and looking into his eyes. He shakes his head, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. "Well today's your lucky day, sugar."
You're slipping off of his lap, unbuttoning your leather flares and tugging them slowly down your legs as he watches.
"Take yours off, now." You say sternly, kicking your pants behind you and stepping up to him again, towering over him. He scrambles to take off his jeans, kicking them off of his feet, looking up at you for his next instruction.
"Good boy." You say, bringing your hands back down to tug down your panties, painfully slow. "Now I'll give you a little of what you want. Keep being good, and you'll get more."
You slide your panties down your thighs, and he groans at the sight of you naked, rubbing himself through his boxers.
"Boxers off, too, sugar."
He scrambles to tug them down, now at his ankles, and before he can kick them off, you're in his lap and pressing his length to your entrance.
"Don't you fucking move," you say, lowering onto him and bottoming out. You moan, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Now you can. Hands on my ass, baby." You say, rolling your hips.
His hands immediately come up to your ass, gripping gently as you roll your hips on him, moaning your name. You bring your face down to his neck, gently kissing his skin as you ride him.
"Smack my ass," you command, and he brings a hand down on your right cheek, making you groan.
"Good boy." You say, running a hand through his hair as you mark up his neck. You grind your hips, rolling slowly, grunting. He was moaning, too, gripping at every inch of your body, desperate for contact.
You begin to bounce, torturously slow at first, drawing a few desperate moans and pleas from him before gaining a steady pace.
"Fuck," he moans, gripping you through your bra. He roughly tugs it over your head, not even bothering with the clasp, pulling your chest to him. He kisses your collarbones, trailing down to your breast, suckling gently on your nipple as you bounce on him. "Thank you..."
You're grinding your hips now, your hand slipping into his hair and tugging his head back from your chest. "So good for me. Even saying thank you... like a good boy should."
You cup his cheek as you ride him, cooing, and his eyes are nearly crossing with pleasure, his body going almost limp except for his wandering hands.
"Fuckin' thank you," he breathes out, twitching inside of you. "God, you feel so good."
"Did I say you could say anymore than thank you?" You say sternly, stopping your hips and placing a finger over his lips. "Good boys listen and thank their master."
"Master-?" He starts, but clamps his mouth shut. You start moving again, and his lips fall apart in pleasure. You capture them in yours, kissing him hungrily, beer and cigarettes on his tongue.
You groan, rutting your hips into his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "That's right," you mutter into his mouth. "Master is how I like to be addressed."
He nods frantically, twitching inside of you, your pussy pulsing around him driving him insane. "Now, would my pet like to cum?"
He's nodding again, gripping desperately at your hips. His hips come up to meet your grinding, and you let out a low moan at the pressure in your lower belly, clenching around him. He whimpers, swirling his tongue around yours messily.
"That's right, fuck me back." You say, pulling away, bouncing slightly with each grind, taking him as deep as you can. You grip his chin as his head falls back, forcing him to look at you. "Don't cum until I say it's okay."
He nods again, breathless and moaning, rutting up into you. "Thank you, master." He says, leaning in for another kiss. You indulge him, groaning into his mouth, clenching around him again.
"Mmm, that's what I like to hear, sugar."
He's twitching uncontrollably, clearly fighting not to cum, and you smirk against his lips.
"Poor baby," you coo, nails running down his chest. "You want to cum so bad, don't you? But mean ol' Master just wont let you."
He cries out, throbbing within you, hips stuttering. "P-please-" he starts, and your mouth is on his again, riding him roughly.
"You can cum now, 'cause I'm gonna." you mutter against his lips, and he's gripping your hips tighter, disobeying a little to press you down onto his cock as hard as he could. You yelp as he fills you up, squeezing around him when you cum, convulsing slightly from the pleasure of the pressure.
You're both breathing heavily, sweaty and breathless, bodies pressed together. You slide off of his lap, lying back on the remainder of the couch, laying your legs across his lap.
"Fuck, that was good. You should call me sometime," you say, and Gerard is still lying there in shock, hands resting on your shins.
"I... wow. Never had a fuck like that. Yeah, I'll fuckin' call you."
He's lighting a cigarette - but not without handing his Master one and lighting it for you first.
I made a draw this in your style challenge as celebration for hitting 2.5k followers on instagram and I thought I'd share the art here too! I got the pose reference from a pic of Freddie Mercury ❤ ANYWAYS MY MIND IS BLOWN AT 2.5K FOLLOWERS OMG!
