#ray toro x you

[bunni-writing-desk]

"Feeling Left Out"

all of MCR x drummer!male reader

(mentioned: Ray x Mikey, Gerard x Frank Kinda Implied: Mikey x Frank, Ray x Gerard)

Warnings/tags: Emotional hurt/comfort, extremely self-indulgent, MCR as a polycule with y/n, self-indulgent use of pet names, set sometime during Revenge era

based on how I hide in bathrooms when I get upset at hotels, as mentioned this is extremely self-indulgent :]

The four boys that lay around you, sleeping soundly and holding onto each other, you loved them so much but things were going through your mind. All five of you finished your last performance a couple of days ago and being on the road since then.

Tonight was a hotel night, which was when all of you would gather in the biggest bed the hotel had in a single room and cuddle while watching movies. The movie, which Gerard had picked this time, had ended hours ago but you were still not asleep. You looked at the two pairs on each side of you, both of them looked cozy. Ray and Mikey were practically tangled together on your left, while Gerard and Frank were snuggling on your right. As much as you love seeing them all peaceful, you felt left out.

Tears started to blur your vision, you hated crying around your partners. Just as little sniffles started bubbling up from your throat you got up. Shuffling off the bed as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb your boyfriends, you walked to your suitcase. You quickly moved your clothes around and pulled out your comfort blanket, the blanket you've had since you were born, and walked into the bathroom. The cold tiles made shivers run up your body. You shut the door behind you, lock it, and sit on the floor. The blanket is held close to your chest, running your fingers over the worn texture of the ripped-up and old fabric.

Finally, you let the tears run down your face, but you still made cation to keep as silent as possible with your sobs. You let yourself cry for a while, finding safety in your blanket and the closed door of the bathroom.

You had always felt a little left out of the band, you knew that they never meant to do that logically but right now your mind wasn't being very logical. You were always sitting up at your drum set, watching the rest of the boys dance around and interact. Kisses, hugs, and other things that only served to fluster you, it all made you feel more Isolated.

Of course, you loved to see your boyfriends being happy and jumping around, but it felt like they didn't have time to turn around and even just send you a wink. It's like they always forgot you were there, just keeping the tempo for them to do amazing things on their guitars and hit high notes with their voices. You were in the background, forgettable, merely a drummer. Nothing special, you were a dime a dozen and you knew that. You felt like you didn't contribute to anything relating to the music, they could find a million other drummers better than you. Why were they keeping you around? It must be out of pity, right? There was no other reason. They only included you in cuddles out of pity, they only let you join the band out of pity. You were just a small disabled drummer that was easy to ignore.

Suddenly there was a noise coming from the entryway in the dark. It was the sound of the door handle being pulled, and the door not budging against the lock put in place. The abruptness of the situation made you jump in place on the ground and pull out your thoughts. Your breathing was made heavier by the scare, chest rising up and down fast.

Meanwhile on the other side of the locked door was a perplexed and very tired Frank. He tried the handle once more before looking over at the bed to see who was missing beside him. Realizing that it was you in the bathroom, he returned to the door and noticed the lack of light from the crack under the wood. His eyebrows twisted up in worry and he knocked gently next to the handle.

"Y/N? You in there, hun?" You had always loved that he called you that, made you feel like a 1960s couple, but the most you could respond to the concerned voice was with a hum. Not a decisive or answering hum but more of an acknowledgment of the question. Frank frowned at that, thinking for a few moments before softly asking another question. "Can I come in?"

You didn't know what to do. Should you let him and possibly see your tear-stained face? Or should you keep the door locked and make him walk to the gas station on the corner just to use the bathroom? You couldn’t handle the thought of making Frank pissed off by not opening the door so you got up. You unlocked the door, opened it, and walked out. Frank watched you step out of the bathroom and then sit on the floor by the entryway.

"Sorry." Your voice was barely a whisper, but in the quiet stillness of the room, your boyfriend that was up was able to hear you. Your body and head were facing to the front, but your eyes avoided Frank's shadowy silhouette. You could practically feel his eyes on you as he stared with worry. He then turned into the bathroom and closed the door behind himself. Thoughts droned on in your head as your eyes bore into the carpeted ground.

The sound of the bathroom door clicking open again brought you back to the current. Not knowing how long you were zoned out for you looked up at Frank who had just walked out of the closet-sized room. You thought he was just going to go back to the giant shared bed and fall asleep again but he didn’t. Instead, he sat right next to you, pulling his knees up to his chest like you. You must have looked surprised because Frank smiled gently.

“I’m not going to just leave my boyfriend alone to wallow in his thoughts. I’ve seen that face on Gerard plenty of times, what’s going on in that brain, hmm?” He laid his head on top of his knees, facing you as if he was going to decypher your thoughts from your expressions. You took a few seconds to gather your mind, what were you going to tell him exactly? You couldn’t tell him everything, that would be too much, so you settled on a simple answer.

“Just feeling… left out?” You phrased your answer like a question hoping that you wouldn’t hurt Frank’s feelings with your words somehow. He just hummed in response, looking over your face again and waiting for you to go on. When you didn’t continue talking he spoke up, asking another question.

“Left out?” He echoed your words, making sure you knew that he was wanting you to keep talking about how you felt. You hated this, you hate talking about how you felt, especially to people you’re close to. But you continued on anyways, convincing yourself that it would be okay and that Frank had asked to hear your worries.

You took a short breath before starting to dislodge every thought from your mind to your mouth. “I just see you four on stage in front of me, all interacting and dancing around and having fun. I guess I just feel so left out because I’m separated by my drum kit, up and away from the rest of you. And it’s not like I contribute much to the band anyways, I’m just here to keep tempo so all of you can make the music. I joined late. All of you had known each other for so much longer before I ever joined, you all know each other so much more than I do. It just feels like I’m an outsider, even if I’m in the middle of all of you I still feel like I’m not even there.” You stared at the ground, the overwhelming silence swallowing you whole. “Sorry for rambling, that probably sounded stupid, huh?”

Head in your hands, you started to contemplate why you even opened your mouth at all. A sudden intake of a breath beside you made you lift your head, just to try to get a glimpse of what Frank was feeling. “First of all, I want to say that you mean so much to all of us. We all love you so much, and what would happen if you weren’t there to keep the beat going? We would all be lost within the notes of each song. You are so important inside the band and outside. Ask any of the guys and they would all tell you that they love you and think you are extremely important. Sure we knew each other before you got here, but we didn’t have the same chemistry- no pun intended-” He cut himself off, making you chuckle at his little joke.

He picked up where he left off in his sentence, “We didn’t have the same chemistry without you. You showed us how to love, and who to love. You can't be replaced because without out we aren’t anything. We’re just a bunch of discordant guys playing random guitar riffs into the void. Without you there to hold all of us together to a rhythm we don’t exist the same way.” He set a hand on your shoulder, trying his best to comfort you. You had always forgotten how good your short-haired boyfriend was at putting things into words, he really should’ve become a poet. But here he was, using his words to serenade you with sappy comfort.

A smile finally graced your features, and tears started to run down your cheeks again. He brushed some of them away with his sweater sleeve, holding your face after doing so. “You’re so wonderful and important and amazing, my love.” You leaned into him, moving your face from his hands to hide in his shoulder.

“I love you so much, I love you all so much.” That was all you could utter under your breath as you sobbed lightly into one of your boyfriends’ arms. He gently ran his hand up and down your back. The two of you sat on the tile ground for a while until your soft sobs turned to little sniffles. Gently Frank pulled away from you just a bit to look at your face.

“Want to go back to bed?” He softly asked and you nodded your head yes. Frank smiled and put one arm under your shoulders and the other under your knees. He lifted you up, surprising you as he hadn’t done this before. Carrying you to the bed carefully, he tried to stay as quiet as possible until he dropped you onto the bed. You let out an involuntary yelp which made the rest of the group groan and wake.

Looking up at Frank you quickly whispered to him in an incredulous voice, “What was that for, now everyone else is awake.” You were annoyed that you had woken up the other three, hoping they were not mad at you. Frank only chuckled in response to your question and with a normal voice, which was far too loud for the middle of the night, he said, “Cuddle pile.”

You nearly yelped again when Frank jumped on top of you, the rest of the guys surrounding you quickly in a pile. Each of them laid a hand on you, trying to show you that they were all there. Frank only ever called for a cuddle pile when one of you wasn’t feeling well, they knew by now that that meant getting to the person in the middle as fast as possible. You reveled in the warmth of all your boyfriends surrounding you, cuddling into your side or laying on top of you. Just like that all of you gradually drifted off to sleep. You would explain in the morning why Frank had called for a cuddle pile and were sure to get more snuggles far into the evening tomorrow, but for now, all of you rested on the comfortable hotel bed.

#gerard way x reader #ray toro x reader #mikey way x reader #frank iero x reader #male reader #frank iero x male reader #frank iero x you #mikey way x male reader #mikey way x you #ray toro x male reader #ray toro x you #gerard way x male reader #gerard way x you #mcr x reader #mcr x male reader #poly mcr #poly mcr x reader #poly mcr x male reader #fanfic writing #fanfic #mcr fanfiction #bandom fic #hurt/comfort #cuddle piles :]

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Priorities - Ray Toro x Reader

Summary: Ray offers his help when you struggle with a learning a song on bass Word count: 2 233 A/N: inspired by that picture of Mikey sitting in Ray’s lap. Wrote this entirely on my mobile, while my parents were driving us to meet family. Thought it was around 800 words. Obviously I can’t estimate.

It had been a sweet idea of your best friend, to ask you to take the position of the bassist in her band, while their regular bassist had broken his wrist. Usually you wouldn't have felt up to that task, but you had helped write most of their songs they were supposed to play this tour, even without being a member of the band. That your favourite guitarist, Ray, was a member of the band they were touring with played no part in your decision to join this tour. At least that's what you told yourself. Well, okay, maybe a little.

Ray and you were from the same town, having attended even the same high school. You had already noticed him back then, more than ten years ago. He had been one of the quiet kids, just like yourself, and maybe that was part of the reason you had never had the courage to talk to him outside of class. After high school you had moved towns, and not seen him again until one evening, when you had attended a small show in a shabby little bar, in which My Chemical Romance had played one of their first shows. You had enjoyed their music, so you had visited a more shows, and even dragged your best friend along, who had immediately wanted to talk to the band, and a few months later both bands had gone on tour together for the first time. Without you. Since you had been no member of either band.

It was only a few weeks ago, when it had been decided you would replace their bassist for the time being, that Ray and you had really talked for the first time since high school. His eyes had widened slightly when you had entered the room, a smile spreading over his face as he had gotten up to greet you, causing raised eyebrows from his band mates.

"Hey (y/n)! What are you doing here?"                         

At your surprise that he knew your name, he assumed you didn't remember him from school, so he had hastily introduced himself to you. His smile grew even wider when you told him you did remember him, and that you had been to several of their early shows.

Ever since that introduction a few weeks ago, everyone teased you and him. His band members loved pointing out how much the two of you hung out, and yours kept reminding you that you knew each other since high school and how cute it would be if something romantic were to happen between the two of you.

Ray always furrowed his brows in confusion when his friends brought up that topic, sometimes even getting a little angry at their relentless teasing. You on the other hand ignored it entirely. You liked Ray, for sure. Hell, you had never liked anyone as much as him. That he was so sweet to you the entire time, always seemed to look out for you, and you were able to talk for hours without getting bored, did not make things easier. But you knew you had no chance, not with someone like Ray. He was so talented, so focused on his music, a true genius. Even if he were interested in you, he'd always put the music first, and a lover would only distract him from that. At least that's what you told yourself, building a wall around you to protect yourself from the teasing of your friends and the hopes it occasionally threatened to ignite. Instead of paying their comments any more thoughts, you simply focused on music as well, and did your best to learn as many songs of your friend's band as possible so they could switch up the set list more. Which brought you to your current problem, namely that of a song the other bassist had helped write and you struggled to learn.

There were multiple runs in the melody, and even though you were a skilled musician, you had trouble with them. For hours you had sat in the small backstage room of tonight's venue, playing the notes over and over again, but the steady flow of the melody just wouldn't come to you. The others had all gone out, sightseeing, eating, shopping or whatever, leaving you all by yourself.

Or so you had thought.

"Wow, that sounds difficult!"

At the familiar voice of Ray you looked up for the first time in hours, your neck aching.

"I just don't get this run," you whined, plucking the strings to demonstrate the uneven rhythm that just wouldn't turn into the smooth progression you had heard the original bassist playing.

You could see how Ray began brainstorming, his mind immediately latching onto the challenge of helping you.

"Want me to show you something?"

Eagerly you nodded, hoping someone would finally be able to help you master this problem.

Reaching out his hand for the bass, you quickly handed it to him, and watched as he tried the run out a few times himself. How he had memorised the melody so quickly was a miracle to you, and hadn't you been so fascinated by him being able to play the thing after a few times, you might even have gotten envious of his skill.

"Okay, come here," he handed the bass back to you, and signalled you to get up from the chair you had been sitting on. You slung the strap of the instrument around your shoulder, and felt Ray step behind you.

"So, first, place your hand like this," he instructed, placing his left hand over yours and moving it up the neck of the instrument a little. "And this hand here." With his right, he adjusted your own. "It's about the coordination of both hands together, right? So we're gonna start really slow."

You wanted to protest, wanted to tell him you had played this run slowly for days, but you bit your tongue, and followed his guidance.

"Your left hand is too tense," he observed as your fingers skipped over the strings. "If you want a smooth progression, you need to relax your hand."

Without giving it a second though, he reached around your front, taking your left hand in both of his and massaged it gently. Any other moment this scenario would have given you a heart attack, Ray basically hugging you from behind, his rough fingers gently working into your tense hand, but now you were too focused on his advice.

"Let's try again," he suggested a few moments later. "Uhmmm..."

You felt him draw back his arms from around you before his warm palms landed on both sides of your waist, gently guiding you backwards, and pulling you to sit in his lap as he sat down on the chair you had already spent half of the morning on.

Still you were too focused on the advice he was quietly telling you, to notice how soft and warm his legs were underneath your own, or how strong his chest was which you were leaning against.

Ray had you play the difficult part of the song multiple times, as slowly as possible, before he allowed you to speed up, again and again reminding you to keep your left hand relaxed whenever you tensed up in an attempt to hit all the notes.

You didn't know how long exactly it took until you managed to play the melody in the original speed, but when you did, Ray cheered quietly, and you turned your head to look at him, a wide grin on your face. Only then you noticed how close he was, how his arms were wrapped around your body, his chest pressing into your back, his curls tickling your shoulders and his face only inches from yours.

His smile faltered and his eyes grew wide as if he too only then realised the position you were in. Wide eyed and surprised, if not even a little shocked you stared at each other, awkward silence beginning to build in the little space between you.

You wanted to say something, a joke to defuse the tension, literally anything to get rid of the awkwardness. In all the weeks prior in which you had secretly admired Ray, things had never been awkward. And you wouldn't allow them to start to be now.

Just as you were about to open your mouth, Ray suddenly leant forward, closing the last inches, and pressed his lips to yours.

For a moment it felt like your heart stopped before beating with twice the previous speed, this time in your throat, as your cheeks grew hot. Hesitantly you returned the kiss, unable to believe this was really happening. But it was, the way Ray snuck his one arm around your waist, bringing the other hand up to cup your face while his lips gently worked against yours being undeniable proof for it. Letting go of the bass neck, you reached your hand to the side of his head, twisting your fingers in his soft curls, holding him in place.

For a moment worry shot into your mind. What if he didn't like it, what if- but your thoughts were interrupted by Ray kissing you harder, making your stomach feel like it was doing somersaults. His lips tasted sweet, his whole body radiating warmth that engulfed you securely, drew you in, and let you forget about the world around you, as you sat in his lap, twisted strangely, and kissing him gently.

A soft sigh escaped him, making your heart leap once more at the knowledge that it had been you, you and nobody else, who had drawn this sound from him of all people.

Only when you were dizzy from euphoria and a lack of oxygen did you eventually pull apart, but only far enough to be able to breathe. Ray's fingers were still brushing over your cheek and jaw, yours wrapped in his hair, neither allowing the other to pull away too far.

"I'm not sorry," Ray whispered, his breath fanning over your lips like a reminder of the kiss you had just shared.

"I wouldn't want you to be," you replied with closed eyes.

Only when Ray suddenly pulled away, ending the soft moment abruptly, did you open them. With a little bit more distance you could see his face better now. His cheeks were tinted a soft, cute pink, his lips were red and swollen, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of insecurity, hope and determination.

"I want to be with you," he declared, carefully monitoring your reaction. "Not just- not just as a tutor or friend or friend with... I don't know, benefits. I want to be with you for real, in a relationship. You don't have to agree immediately, we could go out first, see where it goes from there. Just... Would you give me a chance?"

You were too stunned by his words to properly process them, your first thought being the one you had always used as an argument why Ray would never be interested in you: his music. So that was the first thing you blurted out.

"What about your music?"

"What about my music?"

"I mean-" you adverted your eyes, suddenly you feeling silly, sitting in Ray's lap, the bass still strung around your shoulders, the hand you had tangled in his hair now resting on his chest, as his dark eyes tried catching your gaze inquisitively. "The music comes first, right? Wouldn't... Wouldn't I just distract you? Be a time-consuming nuisance?"

Ray furrowed his brows unhappily at your words, using the hand he had still resting at the side of your neck to cup your chin, and tilt your face until you finally were looking at him.

"I want you to understand one thing right now, and I don't want you to ever doubt it: you are not a nuisance. And never will be, not to me. I don't think you could be, even if you tried. And I treasure every moment I get to spend with you. And about the music... It is time intensive, touring, rehearsals, writing and all. But music can never be the first priority, because what should music be about if not life?"

The way he said it made it impossible to doubt his words. For a long moment you were looking at each other, as if you could read the answers to all the questions of the universe in each other's eyes. Slowly a smile tucked at your lips, and you brushed a stray curl behind Ray's ear. Questioningly he tilted his head.

"I wanna be with you too," you admitted and watched as a happy smile spread over his face.

"Would you mind if I kissed you again," Ray asked, his eyes skipping between yours and your lips.

Again you felt your cheeks heat up, but you shook your head.

"I'd mind if you didn't," you answered teasingly.

That was all the encouragement Ray needed, before he leant in again.

At one point he would have to confess that he had dreamt of this moment with you since he had seen you at his first day in high school, and once he did he would be surprised to find you returning the confession, but right now neither of you spent a thought on that, too consumed in the moment with each other.

Tagged:

@alexstyx​​ @jayloverthe3rd​​ @robinruns​​ @lookalivefrosty​​ @butterflycore​​ @omgsuperstarg​ @fivelegance @deadlovers​ @kpopchangedmylifesstuff​ @casmustdiee

#ray toro x reader #ray toro x reader fluff #ray toro x reader imagine #ray toro x reader imagines #ray toro x reader fanfiction #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance imagines #my chemical romance x reader #mcr x reader #mcr x you #ray toro x you #revenge era

[dumblilb]

till my jaw locks and my tonsils are raw

#my chemical romance #frank iero #frank iero x reader #frank iero smut #gerard way #mikey way #ray toro #my chemical romance smut #pro rev #revenge era #revenge frank #pro rev frank #you brought me your bullets i brought you my love #the black parade #mcr tbp #three cheers for sweet revenge #tcfsr

[on-this-day-mcr]

On this day, December 18

In 2011: My Chemical Romance released the single "Every Snowflake is Different (Just Like You)" as part of the "Yo Gabba Gabba!" episode "A Very Awesome Christmas". (🖤)

Stream "Every Snowflake is Different (Just Like You)" here!

#this one better blow up. yo gabba gabba x mcr collab forever and ever #2011 #single release #december 18 #ray toro + gerard way synchronised bounces i miss you please come back

[mintspidey]

passenger- ray toro

summary: either it was the budding chill in the air, or the wet dream you had about him, but you could not get ray toro out of your mind. going so far as to ignore him at every chance you got not only hurt him, but you as well. you couldn’t focus on anything, ray consuming every single facet of your brain. when gerard offers you straightforward advice, you actually consider his ramblings, no matter how useless he was when he came to his own love life. you weren’t sure if it was worth blurring the lines of friendship. but you did know that you couldn’t wait any longer.

author’s note and warnings: ray toro/gn!reader. friends to lovers, some frerard mentions, smut, porn with plot, oral sex (m receiving), dry humping, reader gets off on his leg while sucking him off, car sex, no reproductive parts of the reader mentioned, ray is HUNG. reader doesn’t suck they swallow.

“fuck… i’m so close…” you breathed out.

you rocked your hips, thighs straddling his waist. his large hands covered your back, gently pulling you into him as he threw his head back, exposing his neck. your lips latched onto the awfully bare looking skin under his jawline, planting open-mouthed kisses as his hips bucked into yours.

“fuck, i’m not gonna last if you kiss my neck like- ah- like that…”

you felt his pulse against your lips, nibbling on the skin against his collarbone. “then i better keep going, huh?”

he suddenly stopped moving. confused, you sat back up and looked at him, “what?”

“do you want to take a break?” he asked. you tilt your head, bewildered.

“no, do you?”

“do you want to take a break?” he repeated, his face deadpanning.

“what? what’s- going on, are you okay?” you were concerned. why was he acting like that?

his voice was louder this time, “do you wanna take a break?”

“no, i don’t, why do you keep asking me this?”

“do you want to take a break?” you pulled back into reality as ray’s voice broke the daydream you embarked on, not realizing how you had spaced out mid-rehearsal.

it was two in the afternoon, the chill in the air slowly seeping through the crevices of your bandmate’s basement door. chapped lips and a dry tongue had you croaking into your mic, audible gulps following each line of yours. you sweated through your flimsy shirt, shifting weights with the guitar on your neck pulling you down to the floor. restless fingers grasping stray strands of your hair to move them back into place every few seconds, making sure you looked presentable.

the distorted note on ray’s guitar rang in your ears before he muted it, leaning in your direction. the drums in the back trailed off as you practically heard frank’s eyes roll.

you roughed up your bottom lip from chewing on it like fodder. you needed to rip your hair out one follicle at a time. you wanted to scream. you wanted to slam this stupid guitar that strained your neck against the wall and storm out.

a sudden, strange pressure to be perfect in front of your bandmates took over you. before that week, you didn’t care if they saw you fuck up because you knew that they knew how good you are at what you do. you respected the band and the art just as much as they did.

did it have something to do with the sort-of life-changing information you received a few days ago? definitely not, you thought.

so why was it that when you and gerard grabbed coffee a few days ago, and he made a passing comment on the fact that ray, a good friend and the lead guitarist of your band, had a sex dream about you, you spat out hot coffee on his new jacket?

why was it that you had tuned out gerard whining over his ruined jacket because you were too busy trying to calm your heart rate?

why was it that that exact night, you dreamt about making out with ray in the backseat of his car, fogged up glasses, handprints, and all?

and why, of all that is good, did you tell gerard about this? he had not stopped teasing you about it, and it started to feel like he never would.

you could almost hear that sneaky little shit’s thoughts through his expressions- which ray was happily unaware of. gerard grabbed his mic, held it close to his open lips, and pressed his tongue against his cheek repeatedly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, mocking your dream.

it was bad enough that your brain decided to see ray, your bandmate, in such a new light, now you were daydreaming about dry-humping in the back of his car and being called out by gerard for doing so.

if you could kill anyone at this moment, it would be that fucker.

that was the fourth time you messed up at rehearsal. arriving late, sweaty and out of breath to practice wasn’t enough, apparently. it was as if you had to piss off your bandmates further. gerard and mikey’s house was fifteen minutes away from yours, but when you woke up five minutes before band practice, you barely had time to put on a decent outfit let alone eat something, before grabbing your backpack and bolting.

so, when you ran into the brothers’ basement, you were greeted by a symphony of annoyed groans and “finally!”s, unable to meet their eyes.

you wish you started off with tiny mistakes that didn’t matter too much. you wish. first, you missed your cue to sing. second, you simply forgot the lyrics.

and anyone who said third time’s the charm,was a liar, you soon realized. you spaced out mid-song staring at the boy in front of you, long curly hair framing his eyes, fanning out over his soft lips.

fuck, not now, you scolded yourself.

“guys, i’m so fucking sorry, i just…i don’t know what’s fucking wrong with me today-” you ducked your head, hands reaching for the guitar strapped around your neck to free yourself from the weight that felt unbearable at that point.

“i can think of a reason…” gerard quipped sing-songily, cocking an eyebrow at you.

the glare you threw at him was equally as charged, making him motion at his lips as if he were locking them up and throwing away the key.

“maybe you should take a break…” ray repeated, ignoring gerard and readjusting the strap around his shoulders. frank looked like he couldn’t wait for this conversation to be over so he could start playing again. mikey was quiet as usual; he was one of the more easygoing of the bunch. no drama, nothing.

you looked up at ray, guilt painting your visage as you exhaled slowly. you knew you need a break. you know he’s right of course.

you cannot blame yourself either. the fact that you both had sex dreams about each other makes you want to chew drywall. you promised yourself you would not ever fall for any of your bandmates, not even accidentally: a promise that seemed laughably doable after the first week of knowing them.

now that you actually noticed his every movement: the way his curls bounced, the way his fingers moved like butter across the fretboard, the way he could improvise the best melodies at the drop of a hat, the way he threw his head back while experimenting on the guitar that looked like it weighed nothing to him.

it was like there were permanent rose-colored glasses surgically attached to your face that emphasized every breath and blink of the hunk of a guitarist standing in front of you. thinking about him made you feel high, and you hated the amount of pleasure you derived just from recounting every feature of his.

you couldn’t look ray in the eyes. it was way too risky. what if you start giggling for no reason, or acting weird?

“i think i’ll… go home and take a nap. maybe that’s what i need.” you accepted defeat, rubbing your temples and bending over the couch behind you to grab your backpack.

“what you need is to get lai-”

“are you okay to perform tonight?” mikey asks, interrupting his brother, the only other guy to have his head screwed tight.

oh, right. the show.

amongst the whole sex dream fiasco, you had forgotten about all your responsibilities, including the gig you signed the band up for.

you nodded, “i’ll see you all at the gig tonight. i’ll be better, i promise.” you knew they would understand, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the massive weight of guilt crush your shoulders.

“do you need me to drop you off if you’re not feeling okay? It’s no big deal,” ray offered, about to take his guitar off his shoulders.

“no!” you shrieked. too loudly. gerard snickered in the back.

it was bad enough that you couldn’t even meet ray’s eyes, you didn’t think you could handle him driving you home, sitting so close to you, his legs spread apa-

“i can go by myself. you guys should rest up too. we have practiced enough i think… not you, gee, you could warm-up a bit.” you winked at him, hoping the playfulness in your voice didn’t sugarcoat your absolute hatred for him at the moment.

the speed with which you left the stuffy basement that smelled like beer breath, shocked you (you were far from athletic). you preferred working on your music and overanalyzing movies in your own time.

getting out in the open, fresh air made you feel much better. the growing distance from ray left you feeling empty almost like a dopamine detox would.

a slight sense of relief tagged along. the jersey air nipped at your nose as you squinted your eyes and buried your chin in your coat’s neck.

at least the headphones trailing from your ears to your backpack protected your ears against the sharp chill in the air. the thin, dark-wooded trees barely harbored leaves, forming nerve-like patterns against the dark-gray sky. the crunch beneath your converse soothed your nerves a bit as the effect of the numbing cold made you forget everything for a while. the next track in your mixtape undid all that.

it was the song you heard ray play the first time you met him.

this tall nerd in g’s basement, fooling around with his guitar to play what happened to be your favorite song. quietly humming along, toothy smile as he tried new variations of the underlying riff, shaking his head to the rhythm, huge hands knowing exactly what they were doing. the mild scent of lavender in the air as watched his fingers fly across the fretboard, being painfully obvious that you were watching him closely.

you didn’t think you remembered so much of that day. maybe you already had a thing for him, and you didn’t know it.

but how could you not? being in a band with someone who was as talented as ray made you want to become a better musician. plus, the word “crush” made you wince- it was so middle school. it was more than just physical with him.

he was always there for everyone: the responsible one, the one that made sure that when the two rowdy dumbasses, g and frank, were out of line, he fixed it. the one who made sure everyone’s input was considered.

there was no doubt that you found him the most attractive in the band; the mastery of his instrument had you obsessing over learning as much as you could from him. you would spend the most time with him than any other bandmate. sharing a cig when you could, even though neither of you were addicted to it like gerard or frank were, asking him to show you how to pinch the strings even when the band was on a break from rehearsal, him enthusiastically hearing everything you had to say about the most recent movie you saw. it was comfortable. you felt safe with him.

you just never realized how important he was in your life till that day. and that made you want to throw up.

he was just a guy. he was just some dude. he was just a man. he was just a friend.

by the time you entered your apartment to kick your shoes off and lie down on your bed, the words “just a friend” became jumbled sounds. even gaslighting yourself into believing something did not work.

was he ever just your friend?

you tried recounting every interaction with him: every time you walked to his apartment with a new movie stashed in your bag that he hadn’t seen, gifting him a mixtape you made for the songs you wanted him to listen to.

adjusting his glasses for him when they were slightly knocked to the side, grabbing and shaking his thighs when you were excited about something in a movie you liked.

huh, you weren’t completely blameless.

your dreaded gaze shifted from your ceiling to the clock on the wall at three pm. three hours until your gig.

three hours until you had to see him.

you let out a wail of agony into your pillow before kicking off your clothes and shutting your eyes for what you hoped would be fifteen minutes.

you woke up an hour later, groggy and nauseous from the ill-timed nap. you panicked for a few seconds before realizing you were on time for your show.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t played in front of people before. you had performed maybe fifteen shows with the rest of the boys for even bigger bars than you were about to tonight.

but of course, that night was different, because you would carry the curse of knowing you liked someone you should not be liking.

he was your bandmate. mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea, from the countless movies you had seen with ray himself. you knew this was a bad idea. but something about wanting something you cannot have just made it more enticing.

you did know not to let this interfere with the show. your work was always the bigger priority; not some stupid crush that was probably just a temporary effect of the dream.

after tripping on your way to your bathroom sink, you splashed cold water on your face to snap yourself out of sleep. an all-black ensemble; a tank top and jeans; to go with the slightly expensive shoes you saved up for was enough self-decor. you weren’t a fan of showing skin: usually seen with sweaters or cardigans and sweatpants, but you didn’t mind it for performances. especially that night.

yawning and climbing through your clothes, you dragged the tip of the eyeliner over your eyelids and on your waterline before taking your finger and smudging it. you were glad that this sort of rushed make-up satiated your desire to look good. gerard or frank, on the other hand… they went all out.

but to your pure disappointment, it had only been ten minutes.

well, fuck.

when you met your band after that disaster of a rehearsal, you made your ability to make gold out of pure shit work wonders for you. an annoying smile on your face and a strong avoidance of any eye-contact with ray had you at the perfect headspace for the performance.

even when he said hi to you, you simply nodded at him and turned your attention to your guitar in the green room, practicing and focusing on the technique and the order of the chords.

the turnout was more than you had expected. as much as you hated to admit it, gerard was the best frontman, frankie headbanged his way through the show, mikey and ray played next to and off of each other, engrossed in their performances. your stiff, focused posture received multiple side-eyed glances by your bandmates, especially mikey, but you couldn't care less

you didn’t miss cues, you remembered the lyrics, and you, surprisingly, improvised on your solo. just a little more than the bare minimum. you could work with that. you just wanted that night to end as fast as possible.

but of course, just like everything else, gerard had to make your life harder.

your attempt to drink yourself to normalcy didn’t pan out. as soon as you sprinted to the bar to get a drink (or ten) in you, you heard gerard talk about a “kickback” at his place. an afterparty, he explained. it wasn’t like you could tell him no, you lived fifteen minutes away from him, and more importantly, he could sniff out a lie when he needed to.

when you saw gerard sneak out after the show to the band’s van, you followed him, ready to confront him and get away from the crowd yelling and screaming around ray, frank, and mikey.

gerard leaned against the van, lighting up a cigarette, the flame casting a dim orange hue over his face. you catch up to him and flick the back of that idiot’s head.

“ow! the fuck was that for?” he exclaimed, trying to hit you back on your arm, but you were already away from his reach.

“you know exactly what that was for!” you yelled, slamming back into the van's door, sulking, turning to the left to stare daggers into your cherry-haired friend’s face.

“tell me the truth. did you tell ray about my dream?”

“that’s what you’ve been worried about? no, you freak!” gerard scowls, “you know i don’t gossip!”

“then why did you tell me ray’s secret?” you counter.

“because it wasn’t a secret! the others know about it too! he told them!”

“but he didn’t tell me, you asshole. that’s what makes it a secret.” you seethed, trying to flick his forehead.

he covered his head with his hands trying to swat yours away, “okay, alright i fucked up! he just didn’t make it seem as big a deal as you did, so i thought it was okay to tell you.”

oh.

you went back to stand with your back against the van, the cool metal suddenly sending sharp shivers down your spine. a rude reality check. your lungs flattened, a blunt punch to the gut making you instantly nauseous. why did you not think about that? of course it wasn’t a big deal to him. you guys were friends after all. just friends.

the older man, noticing the obvious change in energy, tried covering up, “maybe he wanted us to tell you because he was too scared to tell you himself..”

you stayed quiet, leaning against the car window, letting the chill in the night envelop your sweaty skin. the adrenaline rush of having performed seemed to have crashed as you felt your feet turn jelly.

gerard blew smoke out, ashing it between the two of you. the smell of tobacco and nicotine enveloped you, almost like a comforting hug amidst the sharp twinges of the wind.

gerard extended his cigarette to you, “i’m sorry.”

you didn’t speak. the cigarette fit perfectly between the gap of your index and middle finger, like it was crafted for your digits, you realized, sipping it slowly.

the slow burn of the smoke in your lungs almost made you want to choke almost instantly, but you fought back, blowing out the cloud of cancer.

“i think i see why you smoke… you probably go through this every day with frank, huh?” you tried pullingyour friend’s leg, earning a swift punch on your arm.

“you’re a dick.” he said, choking out smoke, clearly surprised by the sudden jab at the state of his pathetic love life.

“you love me.” you stated with a smile, sucking the last of the cigarette before crushing it under your feet and dragging open the door of the van. “when are we going to learn?”

“before we die, i hope.” he answered you, climbing into the passenger seat.

before you knew it, mikey, ray, and frank ran back to the car, a chorus of laughter following them. you straightened up at the sound of ray’s voice and hoped to god he doesn’t sit next to you in the car.

god, however, seemed to have a personal vendetta against you because mikey decided to drive, leaving only you and ray in the backseat.

frank, for some reason, decided not to come with. said he was “busy.”

99% chance he was about to hook up with a dude whose name frank wouldn’t remember the next morning. scratch that, he definitely already forgot. you admired frank for his ability to fuck randos in bars and then forget about them the next morning. anonymous orgasms, he called them. as much as you hated it, you wanted to be like him. be carefree. be selfish. not some loser who, through the fault of their idiot, red-haired friend, developed a possibly destructive crush on their band member which would absolutely interfere with their day-to-day activities.

ray scooted into the backseat, telling mikey to turn the radio on as he rolled down the window near him, “i feel fuckin alive right now.”

“i know, those cheers had crack in ‘em. not one heckler either!” gerard added with an overtrying smile, clearly trying to recover from the fact that frankie was about to fuck a complete stranger, a whole year after their (secret) one night stand.

you felt ray look at you from the corner of your eyes but told yourself he was looking at your window.

you liked lying to yourself.

he shifted further in your direction and casually laid a hand out. a move so subtle, it would’ve seemed normal to the naked eye. a guitarist stretching his fingers after a show wasn’t uncommon, certainly not questionable. but you. you knew exactly what he was doing.

and you did not care for it.

“he didn’t make it as big a deal as you did.” why. why. why did you do this to yourself.

if it were acceptable, you would have hit yourself but you didn’t because you had to look like you didn’t care. you had to look like you didn’t care that ray could tell you were bothered without you having to say a word. you didn’t care that he was caring and still wanted to talk to you after the way you treated him.

and you loathed yourself for it.

he was nice to everyone. he was observant with everyone. right?

ray, however, did not remove his hand from near your thigh, almost bumping into your leg multiple times as the car rode over bumpers.

“drive properly, way!” you barked, looking back at the buildings and cars whooshing by in a blur.

you tried your hardest not to be part of any conversation by sulking into your seat so much that you hoped you would turn invisible.

by the time you reached gerard’s place, you were positive you wanted to drink yourself into the next morning because you did not want to remember anything. having a crush never bode well with you, and you were starting to think that it would never.

you were the first one at the cooler in his basement to fish out two beers and camp on the right end of the couch. the soft, sinking cushions had you exhaling in relief as you cracked open the beer.

ray, mikey, and then later, gerard filtered into the room, taking seats on the floor, or the ottoman.

and of course, ray sat on the small couch. right next to you.

his thigh pressed up against yours, his (huge) hands covering his knees as he shifted back and forth to make himself comfortable. g threw him and mikey a can each before perching on the ottoman and turning the tv on.

as you chugged the beer, you ignored the heat radiating off ray’s body; the scent of cologne mixed with sweat from tonight’s performance made you straighten your posture. there was a dull throb between your legs from the sudden contact he made, but of course, you did what you did best.

ignored it.

the more you drank, however, the harder it became to ignore it. so much so, that you crossed your legs and leaned away from him onto the armrest for some well needed friction.

then, ray spilled beer on his pants.

it was an accident. ray was fixated on the tv— some cheap horror flick that g thought would be hilarious to make fun of. ray, no matter how tall and buff, was a pussy. so when that jumpscare hit and instead of laughing like g and mikey, his body jerked, he spilled his whole drink on his pants, muttering a string of “fuck”s that caught g’s attention over the loud volume of the tv.

“oh, toro, don’t tell me you fucked up my couch!” gerard whined, again, getting up from his seat, flailing his arms.

“dude, i’m sorry, i wasn’t expecting to jump..” ray trailed off, rising to his feet to look down at his pants. mikey tugged ray’s arm to the door, “come on, i have some clothes you can wear.”

gerard, noticing that you looked… off, offered you a water bottle from the cooler. you chugged the bottle, cherishing the moisture that your dry throat needed and looked at your friend whose gaze bathed you in such pity that you wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

“it’s that bad, huh?”

you dropped your head in his lap, groaning and getting back up to lay across the couch, “g, i don’t know what to do with myself.”

“you were normal a few days ago, why can’t you just... be normal again?” he questioned, humor coating his voice.

“you’re saying that? miss i-wanna-fuck-frank-so-bad-i’ll-sit-through-him-fucking-the-whole-town-before-me?” you snapped, in no mood to joke around.

“touche. i’ll just go fuck myself, i guess.” he got up to walk back to his seat, genuinely sounding hurt.

“i was kidding, g. please tell me what to do. please?” you begged, hoping he would notice the sincerity of your words.

gerard pretended to think about his options for a moment before sitting back down, “fine, only because you asked nicely.” you sat up, ready to hear genuine advice.

“you need to tell him.”

“you have ten seconds to get the fuck away from me before i kil-”

“think about it!” he prefaced, “the longer you let your crush on ray stew, the more painful it’s going to be. just tell him and get it over with!”

not that gerard didn’t have a point, but it’s that you wanted a simpler, less confrontational way of solving this problem.

“what if it makes things awkward?” you whined, sulking your shoulders.

“you know ray doesn’t care about any of that right? he’s like the calmest person on the planet, and he cares about you.” gerard informed, walking back to his seat at the sound of crescendoing footsteps.

ray entered the basement before mikey, a new pair of pants that looked strange at first.

he was in grey sweats, mikey’s clearly, they hugged his legs and rode up at his ankles but he didn’t seem to mind. the moment he walked under the light, your eyes immediately threw their focus on gerard who was also looking back at you, noticing the obvious elephant in the room.

jesus fuck, was he hung. it was hard not to stare at the obvious dickprint against the cotton fabric of his sweats. gerard let out a “look at that” whistle, knowing exactly what was going through your mind.

“these are kind of tight, huh?” ray addressed, to nobody in particular, stretching his legs and adjusting the fabric around waist. a jolt of energy traveled between your legs as you watched him adjust himself in those pants.

gerard, tired of your pussyfooting, talked to you directly, “you wanna go home already?”

huh?

you looked up at him, confused, trying to figure out what was cooking in his head, “what? when did-”

“aww, shucks. i wish you could stay longer. well, i guess ray will have to drive you home since you’ve had a beer already!” he was bad at being subtle, to say the least.

what. the. fuck.

your eyes widened. you wanted to punch that fucker’s face in so bad. you weren’t ready. especially after what you saw.

“yeah, totally, um. are you okay with that?” ray asked you, his lips looking pinker than ever. almost like he was begging you.

no. no. no. nope. you were not-

“sure!” your mouth had a mind of its own.

-you were going with him.

gerard smiled sickly sweetly at you before turning off the tv and walking towards the door, a sign for everyone else to get the fuck out. you flipped him off before turning to ray and walking ahead of him so that you did not see. that.

you couldn’t get the image out of your head. sweet, guitar-nerd ray, had a huge-

“good job performing today.” ray muttered, looking down at you, breaking your horny train of thought.

“oh! uh, thanks. and you were uh-” fuck, quick think of a word, “breathtaking.”

great going, idiot. if he didn’t already know before, he definitely knows now.

“that is the first time anyone has ever used that word for me,” he chuckled, “but thanks…” his voice that was usually husky and light, now levering lower than usual.

at that moment, you wished for any god out there to take you. the embarrassment was too much.

crickets chirped in the starless night as the two of you walked through the stone-laid path between grass. your tank top was purely decorative at that point, doing barely any work to protect you from the cold. ray, a gentleman, noticed you shiver, and of-fucking-course offered you his jacket.

“won’t you be cold?” you asked through chattering teeth, hugging yourself.

“nah, im wearing a thick shirt underneath. you might as well be naked right now,” he commented, eyeing your tank top.

a furious blush rose to your cheeks at his comment. something about the way he said it, made your breath hitch, as if it implied that he had consciously thought about you naked.

ray stopped to give you his zip-up hoodie as he tore it off his torso, the hem of his tight black shirt riding up to reveal the tuft of hair trailing down his underwear. you gulped involuntarily as you watched him adjust his shirt underneath and place the jacket around your shoulders. you never realized just how tall he was before he towered over you; your eyeline was at his chest.

fuck, this wasn’t helping the butterflies in your stomach.

you thanked him, trying not to look into his eyes too much before walking to his car. ray took a beat before starting toward his car again, almost as if he was waiting for something.

his car was new— well, as new as a second-hand car could be—painted in jet black with the plate reading “jet-star” some reference to his favorite comic book series. you chuckled under your breath before climbing in, trying to warm up fast so that you wouldn’t need his stupid jacket anymore, with his stupid scent of soap, cologne, and sweat, and the stupid warmth that you definitely wanted to steal from him.

you tapped your feet nervously against the floor of the car, as if that would get you closer to your apartment somehow.

ray walked over to the driver’s seat, mirroring you and strapping on his seatbelt. he was huge. no, not just like that, but physically. larger than you in every aspect. as his fingers reached for his keys, you noticed his pants shift, igniting every dirty thought in your mind.

fuck. fuckity fuck.

“you comfy?” he asked, looking behind the car. you nodded, noticing that he placed his hand on the back of your headrest and started to back up.

you didn’t know whether it was him leaning so close to you, or the hand he threw over your seat, but your stomach would be a gold medalist gymnast for the sheer amount of times it flipped. you noticed the freckles he had, somehow more prominent under the dim orange light of his car, forming miniature constellations on his face. you were well aware that you were staring but you didn’t care anymore.

it was better you told him. you had been this way for two days already, and your condition was only getting worse. it was like ray had cast a love spell on you, and you couldn’t get rid of it no matter what you tried distracting yourself with.

ray’s eyes flickered to your face, previously brown now hazel under the light. you had never felt safer in your entire life as you did then.

he broke into a smile, “what? is there something on my face?” he asked, his left hand flying to his cheek gauging for something to pluck out.

you shook your head, edge of your lips curving up in fondness, “you know, you’re really pretty.”

instantly, he furrowed his eyebrows, clearly taken aback, “huh-what? where is this coming from? did you drink too much? you know you’ve been acting weird all day, what’s with yo-”

it was time, “g told me, you know.”

he tilted his head, like he was trying to recall what you were talking about, “about wha-”

your heart was in your throat, every beat vibrating your torso. it was then or never.

“the fucking sex dream, toro.” you deadpanned, sitting up and facing him.

“oh. that…” he trailed off, taking his hand off your headrest and resting them on his thighs. “listen, i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, which is why i didn’t tell you. i didn’t want to weird you out.” he explained, avoiding eye-contact.

your gaze was fixated on his face, listening to every single word carefully.

“is it true?” you asked, turning toward him and unbuckling your seat belt since the car was no longer moving. confusion washed over his face as he unknowingly fidgeted his fingers.

“do you feel that way about me?” your heart pounded so hard, you wouldn’t be surprised if ray could hear it too. ray looked ahead, his eyes glued to the road ahead. the faint noise of static from the radio dwindled in the air, alleviating your anxiety just a bit.

“do you?” he whispered, like he just gave away a secret.

you stumbled over your words, not expecting to be interrogated in his place, “i asked first,”

“and i’m asking you now. do you feel… that way about me?” a mixture of hesitance and expectation brewed in his tone.

your palms turned white hot, eyes widening at the accusation. you knew that the more time you took to answer him, the more obvious your feelings would be. on one hand, you wanted to tell the truth. on the other hand, you feared the worst of what could happen.

what if he didn’t feel the same way? what if this was just a ploy to get you to confess and then leave you high and dry. what if-

time moved slowly. ray let go of the steering wheel, placing his hand on your cheek, warmth spreading over your face. his fingers caressed your cheekbone, eyes looking into yours and dipping down to your lips, “tell me you don’t feel that way about me… and i’ll pull away and we will go back to being…” he looked up at your eyes, “just friends.”

the hands that were once on your thighs, gripping them out of nervousness, now tangled in his curly locks, guiding his lips to yours.

you could feel your organs jump from excitement, fingers roaming and threading his hair as he kissed you. his soft, plump lips guided yours skillfully, making you moan into his mouth. ray smiled against you and gently pulled back.

he leaned his forehead against yours. you breathed out slowly “you have no idea how long i have wanted to do this for.”

“me too. i can’t believe i’m kissing y-”

“less talking, more making out, toro.” you interrupted, pulling him in, by the collar of his tight shirt, making him gasp in surprise before pressing his mouth to yours again. his hands trailed from your face to your waist, covering half your torso.

he handled your waist like he was scared to break you, fingertips ghosting over your skin, itching to sneak underneath the fabric of your shirt and feel you. an accidental contact of his arms and your thighs made you arch into him, arms automatically hooking behind his neck.

you moaned without a care in the world, leaning back into your seat and pulling him on top of you, ready to be ravaged.

“ray …” you whimpered through the kisses, “please just-”

“not yet, i need to savor this-” his lips latched to your neck, “need to taste you.”

you bucked your hips in desperation, your arousal getting unbearable. you never knew ray was this experienced. he did mention being in relationships here and there, but he was never like frank or mikey, open to anyone.

he nibbled gently on your ear as you pawed at his broad, firm chest, “toro, you didn’t tell me you- fuck- worked out.”

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said through heavy breaths, trailing kisses down your neck to your collarbones. he looked up at you, fingers grabbing the hem of your tank top. you nodded, giving him permission to take it off you.

as you were about to lift your back up to get rid of the flimsy black fabric, ray’s hand snuck under your shirt, supporting and lifting your back as his other hand swiped the tank top off you in one go. his fingers almost spanned your entire back, placing you back down as you lay there shirtless.

the leather seats were uncomfortably cold, making you shiver in response. the everloving, observant man on top of you let you go and moved back into the driver’s seat, pulling the lever under his seat, reclining as low as the seats could go, “get on top.”

the sheer gray fabric of his pants now stretched as his legs spread apart, leaving virtually nothing to the imagination. your lips parted in surprise, your gut twisting deliciously. you grabbed his thigh for support as you climbed into his lap, thighs straddling his waist.

in a moment of deja-vu, you giggled softly, looking away from the man beneath you.

“what? what’s so funny?” ray asked, amused, shifting closer to your hips.

“this is exactly how it went it my dream.” you confessed, shifting your gaze to him, receiving a cocked eyebrow.

“you dreamt about fucking me in a car?” he asked, barely censoring himself like he usually would.

that earned him a playful smack on his torso, his calloused fingers drawing circles on the small of your back. you arched into his touch, trying to explain your dream. ray, however, barely focused on what you said, was distracted by your chest. hardened nipples adorned with piercings met his eyeline, and he wasted no time to kiss one of your pecs and lick them, making your voice go an octave higher.

“ray, fuck, please…” you begged for nothing, grinding down on his hips, feeling him move against your crotch.

“tell me more about your dream, was i any good?” he gave you a toothy smirk, cock stirring in his pants.

“you were so good, oh my god, you went do-” you croaked as he surprised you by pushing your hips down on his clothed dick, “you made me cum on your tongue so many times,” you answered, your digits creeping under his tight shirt, feeling his happy trail against your fingertips. you heard ray gasp softly and throw his head back at your sudden touch.

taking a mental note, you played with the band of his — mikey’s— sweatpants, leaning down to his ear to whisper, “can i? please?”

he groaned, roaming his hand up your back and down to the flesh of your ass, “yes. please, now.”

his voice exuded desperation, bottom lip jutted out in anticipation.

you climbed out of his lap and onto the floor of the car, knees resting against the floor mats. you placed careful kisses on his stomach, ambling them down his v-line. licking your lips, you hooked your fingers under his waistband, slowly pulling them off him. the pace at which the fabric dragged across his shaft made him buck his hips into nothing.

his cock jumped at the first contact with your fingers. you wrapped them around his impressive length, obviously not able to make a fist around his girth.

you weren’t a complete stranger to oral sex, but the sheer size of ray’s dick made you a bit nervous. you didn’t realize how you were already salivating at the sight of his hard, throbbing dick, palms feeling up his inner thighs and trailing up his hips, lips inching closer to his tip.

“you ready?” you asked, one final check before you crossed the friendship line forever.

“yes, definitely yes, but are you? i wanna make sure that yo-”

you cut him off with your tongue circling the tip of his cock, the saliva accumulating slowly dribbling down to his cock. ray threw his head back, cursing under his breath at the sensation of your warm tongue around his dick. he looked down at you through his bottom lashes, licking a stripe up the underside before taking him in your mouth, a visual he had been aching for.

the warmth of your mouth made him fist your hair as you moaned at the feeling of your hair being pulled, sending vibrations up his cock.

hollowing out your mouth, you sunk your mouth down on him, one hand resting on his thigh, massaging it slowly.

tears prickling, you let your drool lubricate him and drip further down before pulling him out with a pop. your drool mixed with his precum connected the edge of your bottom lip to his tip.

“you keep going like that, and i’ll be useless to you,” he gasped out, breathing heavily like he did not expect you to treat him so well.

the corner of your mouth twitched up before coiling the string of saliva around your thumb and smearing it against the slit of his tip, etching an embarrassingly loud moan from him.

“what the actual fuck…” he was enamored by you.

“how many times have you thought about me like this, toro? gagging over your cock on my knees?” you kissed his thighs, fist pumping him slowly. he felt better in your mouth than anybody else had. like his dick was made for you.

“too many fucking times to remember if i’m being honest…” he answered you immediately, twitching at your mercy.

before you could ask him another question that would make him blush furiously, turning his cheeks pink, he continued, “ever since i saw you in that choker g gifted you on your birthday... i haven’t been able to stop thinking about how easy it would be to break that fucking thing with me deep in your throat.” he mewled, the inside of his eyebrows twisting up in pleasure.

one your hands flew to ray’s leg for support, your hips involuntarily bucking against his ankle at his comment.

“fuck, why didn’t you tell me sooner, toro?” you asked, finally seeking friction against his leg, “you’re a pussy…” you wanted to provoke him.

“you are what you eat,” he countered, tossing the ball in your court.

this is what attracted you to ray in the first place. his ability to go along with whatever you said because he knew you would never say anything in bad faith. he liked you. he wanted you.

your cheeks grew hotter with every second, relishing the fact that you were exactly where you have wanted to be for a while.

he saw you blush furiously at his confession before you twisted your grip and pumped him faster, gathering spit at the tip of your tongue. ray’s fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair before lowering you onto his cock.

you spat on the tip, earning a guttural groan from him. you wasted no time to wrap your lips around him once again, closing your eyes and letting him reach deeper down your throat with every stroke.

“you feel- so fucking- oh my god-” he spewed out nonsense as you went further every time you came back up for air. ray’s thighs twitched, knees leaning toward each other, trapping you between his legs.

his grip on your hair tightened, pulling at and scratching your scalp more than before. now that you were between his legs, his cock bottomed out in your mouth, you felt your throat contract around his tip, his thighs pressing your mouth further on his dick.

ray swore that he would have simply cum from the sounds you made choking and crying over his dick. your eyeliner had bled down from your waterline to your chin, the tears and drool painting your face pathetic.

your jaw hurt from cockwarming the man above you, but he clearly seemed to enjoy the show you put on. gasping and smiling down at you like he does at his shows when he shreds on his guitar. the adrenaline all too familiar to him, yet enthralling as ever.

“you make me crazy… fuck i’m so close,” he announced, biting his bottom lip.

your left hand, with a mind of its own, walked up his thighs to cup his balls. his cock jerked in your mouth before you took him in fully, your nose pressed up against his happy trail.

“fuck, i’m coming, oh fuck oh fuck-” he wailed, pressing you further down on him before spilling his cum down your throat, twitching with each wave of orgasm taking over his body. you pulled your mouth off his dick, rubbing against his ankle, chasing the high you had built up so far.

with each swallow you rocked against his leg faster, falling apart quickly. as you tripped over the edge of orgasm, ray bumped his leg up, meeting you halfway. white light engulfed you as you shut your eyes, riding your orgasm out for as long as possible.

“fuck, you came just from humping my leg?” ray asked, astonished. your head fell into his lap, drawing small circles on the side of his thighs before kissing up. rising from your knees, you climbed back into his lap, giving him enough room to put his sweatpants back on.

“was that good?” you asked, looking down at him, hands at his waist.

his hands stroked your cheeks, fingers nudging your chin toward him. the aftershocks of your orgasm made it hard for you to rise to the seat, your grip on his thighs tightening for support. he grabbed your hips, pulling you up easily.

heavy-lidded gazes entwining, the warmth of his arms around your torso pulled the corners of your lips up.

ray didn’t even have to answer you. he craned his neck to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. you nibbled on his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from him.

“why didn’t we do this earlier?” you ask softly, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

“better late than never,” he sighed, slowly closing his eyes shut, “i’ve wanted you…”

your heartbeat quickened.

“...for so damn long.”

butterflies. those damn butterflies made your heart feel like it was budding something new. something exciting.

“well you can’t get rid of me now,” you smiled, admiring the freckles on his skin; sweat glistening on his neck. the bite marks you left bloomed in reddish-violet hues under the dim light of the car. fogged car windows giving you the illusion of privacy as you kissed the corner of his mouth before climbing off of him and back to your seat.

“you’re coming over right?” you asked, looking ahead. you were not going to fuck this up.

“thought you’d never ask,” he stated simply, turning the car on and stepping on the gas.

_________________

an: heyyy!! thank u for reading!! mcr brainrot has me by the throat... lmk if u liked it :)

#ray toro #ray toro x reader #ray toro/reader #ray toro/you #gender neutral reader #gn reader #gnc #smut #mcr #my chemical romance #my chemical ray #my chemical romance fic #mcr fic #fanfiction #mychemfic #my writing #writers #mcr5 truthing #ray toro is hung #mcr fanfiction #my chemical romance fanfiction

[centralperkspoison]

I Can See You - G. Way

PAIRING: Gerard Way x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: sexual references, a little fluffy.

SUMMARY: You and Gerard have known each other for years. When you finally confess to him, everything works out! But how do you keep it as a secret? (Based loosely on I Can See You by Taylor Swift)

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

OTHERS: me posting? whattttt?! this was highly inspired by the song I Can See You by Taylor Swift, so I recommend listening to that while you read. Also, I haven't posted a fic in like a year this is crazy. also!!! not my usual work, not that much fluff just more back story. idk i have wrote in a while so im sorry!

---

YOU KEPT EVERYTHING PROFESSIONAL. You and him only showed your true emotions behind closed doors. You'd brush past each other in the hallways most of the time ensuring to not let anyone catch on.

Of course, you and Gerard were friends to the public eye. You and him were the two lead singers of My Chemical Romance, but what happened behind closed doors stayed there.

You'd moved next door to the Way family when you were fairly young, quickly becoming friends with the two brothers despite the slight age differences; Mikey was three years older than you and Gerard was six years older, which is why in the beginning everything had to be quiet. But of course, you had kept your feelings for the nerdy older brother hidden since you were six, so that wouldn't be too hard.

When the band began recording for Bullets you had just turned eighteen and Gerard was almost twenty-five, which is when it first started.

-

"Why don't I understand basic song structure," You groaned. "You clearly have it down."

Gerard scoffed, "I do not have it down whatsoever, I just actually ask for input unlike someone who's stubborn as hell." He laughed. 

It was only the two of you on the bus, the rest of the guys were inside a restaurant buying breakfast while before you traveled four hours to only record half the album for Bullets.

"Here, bring it over so I can look at it." He said, sitting up on the couch on the bus. You slowly walked towards him, hoping he wouldn't realize who it was about. You silently hoped he couldn't tell, then sat next to him and handed him the lyrics you had written so far. He began analyzing them and handed them back to you.

"It's good, but the bridge should have more meaning. You've described this person in such a beautiful light, then the bridge is just happily ever after? Include some of the struggle in the relationship." You nod, beginning to write. He watches you closely from over your shoulder causing you to face the other way and lay down on him so he could get a better view. This was nothing unusual for you two, it was normal for you to lay on him or anyone else in the band.

You took his words into consideration, then started writing lyrics along the lines of 'If only he knew,' and 'I could see you being my addiction, you could see me as a secret mission.' along with some more context.

"Hey, (Y/N)?" He called, you could feel his heart speed up from your spot on his chest. "Yes, Gee?" You say, looking up at him. "Who is this about?" He asked quietly, playing with your long hair. You dropped your pencil and sat up, facing him. "Is that really important right now?" "I mean not really, I'm just a bit curious." He says with a slight smirk across his face. You just shrug and walk to where you were sitting previously to the whole song structure conversation. Once you sit down, he began speaking again.

"I mean of course the description sounds a little similar, short black hair, hazel eyes, crooked smile," He says, walking behind your chair and gripping it and looking down at you from over the back of the tall chair. "I would say Frank, but his hair doesn't exactly fall under that category anymore, and when you think about it, I'm the only one with short black hair now." He smirks. He already knew, but he was just trying to play around and have a little fun before he had to make his own scary confession.

"God, okay Gerard, the song is about you." You roll your eyes trying to make it come out as if you're not afraid to say it. "Wait, you're actually admitting it?" "Yes, I have a big fat crush on you, now can you please just turn me down already so I can get over it sooner." You sigh, and he walks around your chair so you two are facing each other now. 

"(Y/N), I'm not rejecting you," He smiles. "C'mere." He says, opening his arms for a hug, and you quickly throw yourself in his arms. You two linger in the hug for a while before you take a step back and look up at him. You two were so close your noses were touching. 

"May I?" He asks, moving his hand up so he's cupping your jaw. You lean into his touch and nod.

-

After you two established your feelings, your situationship turned into a relationship that ranged from sweet moments to insanely sexual ones, not that you had a problem with that, of course. It was just difficult keeping it from your best friends.

Eventually, fans began sniffing the two of you out. How you would always sit next to each other in interviews, when you were on stage you would always seem as if you were singing to him and he was singing to you, when they watched Life On The Murder Scene every time there was a video on the bus you'd have your legs sprawled out on top of his or you'd be laying on him, and even away from the bus he'd always send you looks.

You started seeing the fans reactions on Twitter in the two of your comment sections.

(Y/N)(Y/L/N): Day off with my boys! <3

mcrlover616: OMG R U AND GERARD DATING

frerard4li4e: Gerard belongs to Frank, girl. Back off.

bugmomma24356: You and Gerard are so cute ug! <3

After trying to cover up everything to the best of your abilities, nothing made them believe you, even your own band mates started thinking the two of you were together, so you two had to act more distant. 

No more laying on him, no more lingering hugs, and definitely no more making out on stage just to "make the crowd go wild". 

-

The two of you had to be entirely secret for almost a year now, and it was the first night of your new tour, Rise Against the Black Parade. 

Gerard brushes his shoulder against yours in the hallway while you two walk into the dressing room, shooting you a look. "Oh sorry, (Y/N)." He says quietly and slides his arm across your back before sitting two seats away from you in the dressing room. 

Makeup took a while, but you and Gerard were the last to finish. Once your artists left the room he sprung up to lock the door, and quickly met you in the middle of the room. 

He rested his hands on your hips and you hand your arms on the back of his neck, while he pressed his lips to yours aggressively. You parted from him for a moment, "Now don't go messing up our makeup," You smirked. "We can fix it ourselves." He grunts, picking you up and placing you on the counter.

The two of you were in there for a total of five minutes before someone started knocking on the dressing room door, causing you to jump like two teenagers caught by parents. "Hello? Who's in there, we need to change!" You hear Frank say from the other side of the door. The two of you quickly check your makeup to make sure it wasn't messed up, then you walked to the door to unlock it before turning to Gerard.

"You know, if stopped hiding... it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world." You said and he began to shake his head. "The age difference, (Y/N)." "It's six years, Gee. At least it's not like twenty or thirty like some other couples." You say, causing him to shrug. "I guess it's not the worst thing in the world." 

You walk over and unlock the door allowing Frank to come in with the costume cart. Once he realized it was the two of you he gasped. "You?" He said pointing to Gerard, "And you?" He said pointing to you. You turn to Gerard and tilt your head. "Yeah yeah, big deal." He said walking over to wrap an arm around your waist.  That night was one of your best shows yet. You two started showing affection on stage once again, you put your emotion back into your lyrics, and you even got a chance to preform the song you wrote for Gerard that started the whole relationship.

#mcr gerard #my chem gerard #gee way #gerard way #my chemical romance #my chem #gerard way x reader #fem!reader #frank iero #mikey way #bullets #you brought me your bullets i brought you my love #tcfsr #three cheers for sweet revenge #revenge era #tbp #the black parade #fanfiction #mcr #ray toro #danger days #killjoys

[rdiowx]

Me after getting the 30th female reader ask this month

Idk if you guys know how to fucking read but i DONT WRITE FOR FEMALE READERS AS I AM NOT A WOMAN MYSELF NOR WAS I BORN FEMALE

THAT IS ASKING A MAN AND A GAY MAN AT THAT, TO WRITE FOR WOMEN (a nonbinary man but my point still stands)

#PLEASE GIVE ME A BREAK #so close to making this blog fem dni cause of this #i write nonbinary stuff because IM nonbinary that isnt an invitation for you to assume that this is a fem based blog #SO FOR THE LAST FUCKING TIME THIS IS A NBLM/MLM BLOG #mcr x reader #frank iero x reader #mcr x reader smut #frank iero x reader smut #gerard way x reader #gerard way x reader smut #mikey way x reader #ray toro x reader #ray toro x reader smut #mcr smut #gay #mlm #mlm and nblm only #nblm

[gghoulishdelight]

"At the End of the World, or the Last Thing You See.."

pairing: mikey x gn!reader x ray

genre: fluff xtreme!!

a/n; based off of a dream i had, except not ghost of u mikey cuz i dont want him to die

/ look at these nerds<33 luv them /

"micheal james way, stop messing with your hair before i pin your hands down!"

mikey jumps at the stern sound of your voice coming from the entrance of his dressing room, a sheepish look on his face as he meets your glare through the mirror he's facing. he couldn't help himself, he was nervous and he didn't feel as if his hair looked like it should, but then again, he wasn't all that interested in costume design like you were. you technically weren't their costume designer, but you were definitely the one who ran around making sure everything looked according to plan when they had photoshoots and videos. his hands drop back down to his sides under your stern glare before you have the chance to make your threat come into fruition, his face turning the slightest bit pink as he heard gerard's giggles echoing from their own dressing room. god, he's never going to hear the end of this.

"if you would stop messing with your hair, you wouldn't have to be teased by your brother and i could finally help ray get his hair into a ponytail before you lot have t' go onstage," you scold the taller way brother while you fix his hair in place again, having to stand on your tiptoes the tiniest bit so you can reach. speak of the devil, mikey thinks as ray pops his head into the room, curious to know what's being said about himself. he grins at mikey through the mirror, silently giggling at how silly the two of you look right now and venturing into the room further.

"i heard my name, what's up?" ray's gentle voice draws your attention away from mikey for the time being, your face softening as you look at him and smile sweetly. ray always had a calming effect on both his partners, no matter the situation.

"nothin', just your boyfriend here can't seem to stop messin' with his costume long enough that i can help you get ready," you tease a little more lightheartedly this time, earning a little grin from mikey. he stays quiet as you trail your hands down from fixing his hair to gently cupping his cheeks, only letting out a little hum of content when you reward him with a gentle peck on the lips.

ray clicks his tongue in mock disappointment as he wiggles his way behind you, resting his chin atop your head and wrapping his arms around your midsection to pull you in close. "let me guess, you already threatened to pin his hands down?" he teases with a grin, only to giggle when you turn your head away from them both to try and hide the blush dancing on your cheeks. mikey takes this as a chance to start peppering soft kisses along the side of your neck, smiling at the way you try to squirm out of ray's grasp.

"guysss, c'mon! you gotta go out in 15, and i still needa fix up ray!" you complain in a whine, yet there's no actual bite behind your words, just soft love and warmth for the two. they end up letting you go after a few more seconds of affection, but only after mikey steals one last kiss from you.

"thank you," he whispers almost silently, taking your hand and tapping thrice on your palm, his silent way of saying 'i love you' when he didn't have the words to say it aloud. you just smile, tapping back and grinning widely at the way his eyes light up at your understanding. you don't think you'll ever get over the way he seems so fascinated with you responding in turn. he and ray share a kiss before you tug ray out of the room, only to be met with gerard and frank mockingly 'making out' (aka pretending to kiss and moan while also giggling their asses off) outside of frank's room, clearly pretending like something unholy had been happening between the three of you. you just sigh and bite back a grin, ignoring ray's noise of protest at their actions as you drag him away from the scene and into his own room, only to blush furiously at frank's shouts of "use protection!".

you don't know what you'd do without these guys, even if they tormented you to no end.

#mcr x reader #mikey way #my chem #mcr fluff #mcr fanfiction #mcr ray #ray toro #ray & mikey >>> #my chemical romance #x gn reader #x nb reader #frank iero x reader #x male reader #x reader #ghost of you #ghost of you mikey #mychem #mikey fucking way #my chemical fucking romance #frank iero #gerard way #my chemical romance fic #my chemical ray #my chemical mikey #my chem ray

[your-averagewriter]

I THINK THIS IS WHERE I REQUEST SO IVE JUST HAD AN AMAZING IDEA. So, Gerard x reader. This could go two ways. Way number 1- reader and Gerard hate each other, or way number 2- reader and Gerard are dating. So the reader is messing around with Gerard or he’s annoyed at the reader and he gets really close to the reader and the reader just moans. Like on accident they moan at him. And they’re both in shock and reader locks themselves in their room and one of the other band members comes in somehow and are like ‘it’s okay, also Gerard wants to see you’ for way number 1- Reader comes to see gerard and makes out with reader or for way 2- gerard is like ‘it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed’ and they’re just in love cutely. I hope this wasn’t confusing (but i know it was).

Summary: Gerard hates (y/n) who is Ray Toro’s sibling, after a while, they get annoyed with the constant insults and the rest so they decide to hate him back. They annoy Gerard afterwards for months, back and forth bickering until Gerard accidentally makes them moan leading to confessions from the both of them.

Enemies to lovers, Gerard Way x gender neutral!reader

Warnings: making out, smoking (cigarettes), swearing, alcohol, no smut but kinda heated

Word count: 1.9K

-

-

Long car rides are boring but not today, today I’m sat next to Gerard. One of my favourite things is to annoy him and get him riled up, it’s quite entertaining to watch. He hates me, I don’t know why because I never did anything to make him hate me. 

When they were looking for a drummer I turned up for the audition and joined the band a week later. We started rehearsals and I was nervous as shit, what if they only let me join because Ray’s my brother? I did everything I could to make the others like me, I was polite, early and did my best in rehearsals but for some reason the frontman just didn’t like me. Everytime I tried to talk to him or be his friend he’d brush me off or be rude and after a while it started to affect me because even though I didn’t want to admit it, I had developed a crush on him.

I asked the rest of the guys if they knew why he didn’t like me but none of them came up with any good ideas, a few joking ‘what if he has a crush on you’s came up from Frank. I felt my heart flutter at the thought but I tried not to get my hopes up.

So once I’d been in the band for a while and had attempted multiple times to be Gerard’s friend I decided that I wouldn’t let him keep making me feel like shit. Instead of trying to be his friend I started answering back and matching his energy. If he doesn’t want to be my friend then I don’t want to be his. It also might have been me overcompensating for liking him but we don’t talk about that part.

So on this car ride, we’re using a five seater car but there’s five of us so we’re all cramped together except from the guys in the front, Mikey’s driving and Frank’s next to him sorting out the GPS and maps. Obviously I was put next to Ray (in the middle) because we’re siblings and best friends and that leaves Gerard who was put on the other side of me.

The whole car ride was full of us bickering and arguing, I would prod his shoulder and do stupid things like that which annoy him. Everytime I saw him nodding off I would ask him if he was asleep therefore waking him up and annoying him.

“Hey, hey Gerard.” I whisper to him but he doesn’t reply. “Hey, I know you’re awake.” I say starting to prod his shoulder. 

“(y/n) leave me alone.” He says surprisingly calm. “You’ve been bothering me the entire time.”

“Yeah, well it’s not my fault you smoke in the car and are a bitch about everything.” I say talking about when I took his cigarette and threw it out the window because it smelled bad.

“I’m not a bitch.”

“Oh, you so are.” I counter him, smirking. “You’re such a bitch that you can’t even admit it.” I say laughing.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” He asks rolling his eyes

“Only for you, baby.” I say blowing him a mocking kiss. 

Silence fills the car and I turn around to see everyone but Mikey (who’s driving) looking at us.

“What?” I ask with a chuckle then turn to look at Gerard. His arms are crossed and he’s starring out the window in silence.

“First time I’ve seen him silent in a while.” Frank jokes from the front.

“Shut up, Frankie.” Gerard says sounding very pissed off.

“Okay, everyone, there’s not long left, just leave each other alone.” Ray says trying to calm everyone down. 

I turn around to Ray and we just talk quietly for the rest of the ride. He wasn’t wrong and there was only thirty minutes till the next tour stop. 

This show is one of the biggest shows on the tour so the place we’re staying is slightly bigger and nicer. We grab our night bags, basically the bags with our pajamas. The rest of the bags will be unpacked tomorrow when either we can be bothered to do it or someone will bring them in. 

I grab mine and yawn as I walk towards the hotel we’re staying in.

Someone signs us in and we make our way up the stairs to our rooms. We each have our own room and beds but there’s a communal room attached to a kitchen.

Once everyone’s thrown their bags in their rooms they all regrouped in the lounge area. I walk in afterwards walking into the kitchen and I check the fridge for some beer. Grabbing one I walk over to where everyone’s sat and slouch on the sofa.

“Why do they keep giving us kitchens, we never use them.” I say opening the can. 

“Why don’t you invest in a cook book and cook us all some food then.” Frank says jokingly.

“Nah, not worth it.” I say resting my arm on the arm rest.

Gerard finally walks in and has to sit next to me because there are no other spaces. He pulls out a cigarette pack and lighter and starts clicking the lighter. 

“Smoke outside!” I say not wanting to inhale the smoke.

“Fine! Calm down.” He says jabbing me with his elbow and I…moan.

My eyes go wide and my hand flies to my mouth. Frank looks shocked but amused. Ray’s head is in his hand and Mikey’s already laughing. Gerard, I don’t even want to look at him.

I stand up quickly and hurry out the room heading towards my room. I lock my door behind me and stand not moving a muscle still in shock.

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Oh my god!” I mutter to myself quietly now pacing around the room, head in hands. 

I drag my hand through my hair, cringing at the memory of a few minutes ago. I feel my cheeks warming as I wonder what’s going to happen next. 

Is Gerard going to mock me? I know Frank and Mikey will. Is he gonna ignore me? Am I gonna get kicked out the band? I think that might be a bit too far but who knows.

A knock on the door disrupts my racing thoughts.

“Go away.” I say not knowing who it is.

“(y/n), it’s me, Ray, can you let me in?” He says and I groan before standing up and unlocking the door. 

I sit on the bed and cover my face with my hands.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He says sitting down next to me and placing his hand on my shoulders.

“No, it’s not! It’s so embarrassing!” I whisper shout still covering my face.

“It happens to the best of us.” Ray tries to reassure me.

“No, no it doesn’t, has that ever happened to you before?” He stays quiet. “Or anyone you know?” He stays silent. “See, it’s weird and embarrassing!”

“It’s not. Frank and Mikey aren’t even talking about it, they’ve moved on. And Gerard, he wants to see you.”

“Tell him I don’t want to.” I say finally looking at Ray.

“Just talk to him, it’ll be fine, and if it’s not we can kick Gerard out the band.” He says jokingly.

“Ugh, fine. Where is he? I’m not meeting him in the communal room.” I say scoffing at the thought of talking to him in front of the others.

“He was in his room last time I saw him.”

“Okay, I’ll go when you leave, I need to mentally prepare myself for rejection and humiliation.” I say with a sarcastic smile and thumbs up. 

He shakes his head before leaving, closing the door. I lay back on the bed and take a few deep breaths before leaving my room. The walk to his room feels like the walk to a slaughterhouse. Finally, I end up outside his door, I knock.

“It’s unlocked.” I hear him say from within so I push open the door and walk in finally looking him in the face. I shut the door behind me and wait for him to speak but he doesn’t.

“Can we just get on with the rejection and humiliation please? I have things to do.” I ask him as he stands a few steps away from me.

He leans forward quickly, pouncing on my lips. He kisses me harshly and I stand in shock before pushing him off.

“Nope, you can’t do that!” I say annoyed. “You can’t hate me and ignore me then kiss me!” He steps back away from me.

“I don’t hate you.” He says quietly.

“Yes, you do, when I joined the band I tried to talk to you and befriend you many, many times and you either ignored me or were straight up insulting! You’re just rude to me and you brush me off all the time!”

“You’re the same to me.” 

“Yeah, because I decided to not let you make me feel shitty anymore and match your energy. You’re shitty to me so I am back to you.” I say like it’s obvious, sadness and anger dripping from my voice.

“I’m sorry.” He says with a sigh. “I-I just, I knew that if I was friends with you I wouldn’t be able to stay away. I knew that I would catch feelings for you.” He pauses. “But I guess it wouldn’t have mattered because I did anyway.” He explains. “I thought you hated me aswell.” 

Silence fills the room at the unexpected confession I was definitely not ready for.

“I could never.” A small smile plays on my lips.

I grab his collar pulling him towards me. He stumbles but doesn’t fall as our lips crash together. I feel my back pressed up against the wall as his arms pin me to it, my stomach is tied in knots as I thread my hands in his hair. The bleached strands frame his face and I tug on them experimentally and Gerard moans into my mouth. Separting, I pull apart from him and smirk.

“Pay back for earlier.” I say and observe him. His cheeks are flushed red, his mouth open slightly releasing quick breaths, his eyes dreamy and loving. But he turns it on me quickly.

“I can’t believe you moaned because I elbowed you-” He says mockingly.

I interrupt him, pulling him back in and kissing him. He pulls me forward slightly, pressing our bodies against each other, warmth spreading between us. Shivers run up my spine as my head is pushed against the wall. His confidence overwhelms mine as he pushes his tongue into my mouth, swirling it around mine, my eyes flutter close and I feel my stomach jump. He tastes of coffee and cigarette smoke. I hate cigarettes but he pulls it off so well, the remnants of smoke play on my taste buds as the kiss deepens. 

He moves to stand inbetween my legs, pushing them apart, I moan at the sudden movement in between my thighs. Excitement overwhelms me and I feel my legs become weak.

“Hey guys, I came to check on how things are going.” Ray says pushing the door open. We jump apart as soon as we hear him but it’s too late anyway. He covers his eyes quickly and backs out the door. “Sorry, should’ve knocked, umm, well done though.” He says the last part in a weaker voice. He must’ve realised I liked him at some point.

I stand next to the wall still looking at Gerard. “Do you think we broke him?” Gerard asks and I just shrug before pulling him back in by his shirt.

-

AN: Thanks for the request, I hope you liked this @heaveaux!

Feel free to send in any requests you have, I'll make a post with all the people/shows/bands I'll write for.

#mcr #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance #fanfic #fanfiction #mcr fanfiction #x reader #x yn #gerard way #gerard way x reader #mcr gerard #my chem #mikey way #ray toro #frank iero #my chemical romance x reader #my chemical romance x yn #x you #x you fluff #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #gerard way x yn #gerard way x you #ray toro x platonic reader #writing request #emo bands #emo

[bodysnatcherrs4ever]

if you guys send requests for my chem fics maybe ill write some, smut or fluff i do not care just not angst i cannot cope with angst im a pussy when it comes to that stuff i can even read it 🙂

female!, gn!, male! ,afab/amab reader is fine

if i do write male!reader content dont be expecting something great.. 😬😬😬 ill try tho,, im sure ill get there one day.

#frank iero smut #frank iero x reader #mikey way smut #frank iero x you #mcr fluff #gerard way smut #gerard way x reader #ray toro smut #ray toro x reader #my chemical romance #smut #fluff

[bunni-writing-desk]

Would you be able to write some cg!ray toro headcanons? /nf

(Also I absolutely adore your work, it's made me want to start writing again :] )

of course I can, and I'm glad I could inspire you :]

CG! Ray Toro hcs

Just a bit tired

Likes to play you lots of soft songs the guitar

Comfy pillow forts and kiddo shows all the time

Probably likes to watch Mister Roger's Neighborhood with you.

I imagine he's the kind of cg to wrap you in a blanket and carry you off to bed when you look sort of sleepy.

If he were to have any sort of rules it would be ones that make sure you take care of yourself, stuff like "make sure to brush your teeth every morning + every night" and "remember to take your meds" (if you have medications)

Bluey watching dad for sure

Sassy wine mom (doesn't drink around you he just likes to fake spill tea about the other mcr members with you to make you laugh)

Took you to the park one day and found you stuck somewhere "What are you doing?? How did you do that?"

Teaching you to play guitar like Frank

He's Trying His Best ™

Makes you simple things like grilled cheese and soup

I feel like he's kind of an inside CG much like Gerard but likes to take you on outings if you want

Likes to go stargazing with you, probably buys a nice telescope for the two of you so you can see them more clearly

"You promise you got the glitter glue and aren't gonna get it all over the place? ... Okay, I trust you, but if it gets every where I'm giving you the glue stick again"

Definitely gives alternatives to things so like if you don't want to watch the TV he is currently playing you have the option between two other shows or if you don't want to make crafts then you can color or play with your toys. (this helps me with decision anxiety a lot)

[DNI ID: "DNI if sexualize age regression" /.End ID]

#ray toro x reader #ray toro x you #ray toro #mcr x reader #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fic #fan fiction #fandom age regression #age regressor reader #sfw age regression #age re safe space #mcr fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #mcr ray toro #sfw age regressor

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

No Doubts and No Conditions - Ray Toro x Reader

Summary: You wake up, on the bus, early in the morning, still confused about the kisses you shared with your bandmate and friend Ray last night, wondering where that leaves the two of you Reader: should be gender neutral (no pronouns used) Word count: 1 960 A/N: I currently have a thing for neck kisses. I won’t apologise. Also as per popular demand (literally all three people who voted, voted for this! Thank you for participating, the other stories are in work!): Ray morning kisses.

The sound of the tour bus motor being turned off was what woke you up. Sleepily you rubbed your eyes, turning to your other side to get a glance at the clock. Only a few minutes after five am. Certainly nobody was awake but the driver. Pulling the curtain in front of your tinted little window far enough to the side to get a glance outside, you saw you had stopped at a petrol station. Outside it was still dark, and only the lights that were illuminating the station were shining brightly.

You rubbed your eyes again, suddenly remembering the events of last night. A quiet giggle escaped your lips, and quickly you buried your face in the pillow, trying to hide it. You still could feel Ray’s breath on your face, his hands gently holding your waist. You had never been so close to him, had never allowed yourself so much time to admire his eyes, the way they took you in.

It had been after the show, when everyone had wanted to go out for a late dinner. It was past midnight, and you declined their invitation, preferring to have quick dinner on the bus, and going to bed instead of hanging out in a diner. Ray had agreed with you, and together you had made sandwiches, which you had eaten side by side, sitting on the sofa in the bus.

How it had happened in the end, who had leaned in first, who had initiated the first of so many kisses last night, you did not remember. But you did remember the way your heart had soared, how butterflies had erupted in your stomach, had made you dizzy with euphoria. How long had you liked Ray? Too long, far too long. And suddenly kissing him had been better than anything you could ever have imagined. He had been so gentle, firm but so gentle when he had kissed you. His lips had tasted sweeter than you thought a kiss could taste, and his hands, rough from playing guitar all day, had carefully held you in place, brushing over your cheeks and jaw, down your neck. Sometimes he had even slipped his fingertips underneath your shirt, caressing the skin on your waist, as if testing your reaction.

But what kind of reaction had he expected? You had dreamt of him for years, so if anything his touch was barely enough. Then again, even the touch you got already sent your heart into a frenzy, being more than you knew how to deal with, so you were secretly glad he did not try to initiate more, because that surely would have been too much for your still somewhat confused mind.

Instead you had focused on what you got, Ray kissing you, his hands carefully running up and down your sides, as if you were made of the thinnest glass. It might sound like a cliché, but you had lost all sense of time. Although ‘lost’ was perhaps the wrong word. You had let go of all sense of time, happy to just drift along, while Ray and you had kissed, ignoring the world around you, ignoring that you were still on a tour bus, and your friends could come back any moment, and that you were band mates who probably should not kiss, especially not like that. But everyone deserved a few moments of utter peace in their life, didn’t they? And this was one of yours.

You only had gotten interrupted, when the loud voices of the others had neared the bus, and jumping apart, it had taken only a quick glance between Ray and you to agree that it might be best not to be found like this, so you had slipped into the bunk bed area. The last glance you had taken at Ray was still burnt into your memory: His hair dishevelled, cheeks pink. He had smiled at you like he always did, in a way you previously thought you had only imagined, but now could see clearly: his eyes were so soft, so caring, and almost you would have gone back over to him, buried your hands in his hair and kissed him again, just for looking at you like that. But then the door to the bus had jumped open, and you had quickly retreated to your bunk.

Now, the morning after this – could this qualify as a make-out session? – you could feel doubts rising in your stomach. What had it meant to him? You knew to you it had meant the world, and if he only wanted you, you were all his. After all, you had kind of dreamt of that for years, and had always had to come up with stupid excuses why you never wanted to try dating people. The honest answer would have been because none of these people was Ray, but you could hardly be honest about it, so you had always said you wanted to put the band first.

So… did Ray know how you felt? If so, what did he think about it? Would he be creeped out by it? If it had been Gerard, or Mikey yesterday, you could have easily written off the make-out session as some post-show-high that did not mean anything. But Ray was different. He usually did not initiate such intimacy unless he was emotionally involved; at least this was what you had heard from Gerard when you had talked about relationships a while back. And those kisses had been anything but pure adrenaline high. They had been sensitive, emotional, almost… loving.

So did that mean Ray had some sort of interest in you? He had kissed you like he had waited years to do it, but that had been yesterday. What about today? Was he still interested? And how were you supposed to find out? Should you just walk up to him and ask ‘Hey Ray, about last night: what did that mean to you? Are we a thing now?’ Yeah. Probably not how this was gonna play out.

Feeling sick from the insecurity that had settled in your stomach, you crawled out of your bed. The bunk area was only sparsely lit, to keep it dark and still allow enough light to not stumble around blindly. Walking past the bunk beds with their closed curtains, you headed towards the tiny kitchen, making sure to close the door behind yourself so your early morning endeavours to the fridge would not disturb anyone.

You expected to find the kitchen deserted, but to your surprise you seemed not to be the only one who had been woken up by the stop at the petrol station. Ray lifted his head, his eyes wide first, before he recognised you. A soft smile tucked at his lips and he got up from where he had crouched in front of the fridge. He held two tetra-packs of chocolate milk in his hands, placing them on the counter before he closed the door to the fridge.

“Good morning,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Morning,” you replied equally quiet, suddenly not sure where to look or what to say.

You were about to ask if you could have one of the chocolate-milks, just to break the awkward silence, when Ray walked over the few steps that separated you, and placed his hands on your waist, pulling you close.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, making you want to laugh.

It had been not even three hours since you had been kissing on that sofa behind you, and sure, you sort of had missed him too, but it felt incredibly strange to hear him say it out loud.

Before you had the chance to say something, his lips were on yours, kissing you just as gently as a few hours ago. It made your heart almost stop, immediately erasing the insecurity that had plagued you enough to get out of bed.

When he pulled away a few minutes later, he looked down on you, almost as if he expected you to be mad at him.

“I hope that was okay,” he asked, as if you had not wrapped your arms around him, just to be closer to him.

“’course it was,” you smiled up at him, making him blush a little.

In that moment the motor of the bus awoke to new life, and quickly grabbing onto the nearest counter, you waited until the bus had pulled out of the parking lot, and back onto the highway.

“I suppose I can have one of these,” you asked, still facing the counter, and pointing at one of the chocolate milks.

You felt Ray come up behind you, his hands back at your waist, as he hummed in affirmation. Reaching out to grab a milk box, you were about to turn around to face him, when suddenly hot breath fanned over the side of your neck, and a moment later his lips pressed to the delicate skin right beneath your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as you closed your eyes. The contrast of Ray’s soft lips to his scratchy stubble was dizzying, making your head swim as you hummed quietly in approval. You could feel him smile against your skin, before he continued placing short sweet kisses against your neck; his hands warm and safe on your waist as you leant back slightly, feeling the muscular plain of his chest against your back.

Just as you were certain his kisses would cause you to lose your mind, another thought, one that had caused your stomach to churn badly earlier, pushed into your mind.

“Ray?”

He hummed against your neck, making no attempt at pulling away.

Now that you knew you had his attention, you did not know how to phrase your concern. Eventually you settled with a deep sigh and the question “Is this going to continue?”

You could feel Ray stop in the motion, before he pulled away. Slowly you turned around in his arms, looking up at him shyly.

“What do you mean,” he asked, furrowed eyebrows.

“The kisses and the-” fireworks in my stomach. Will you continue kissing me, as if it isn’t the most heart wrenching thing? Are you really interested in me like that? “I don’t know, just… you know.”

Ray blinked, and concerned you watched his features harden.

“If you want to stop-”

“No! I don’t, that’s the point!” Immediately the wall he had begun pulling up between the two of you crumbled down again, and he relaxed as you continued. “I don’t want to stop. I was just wondering if you did. And what that means for us and how it’s going to continue...”

Expectantly you looked up at Ray, who gently cupped your chin with one of his hands.

“I’ve liked you for a pretty long time,” he confessed, “and kissing you is honestly one of the best things in the world I can think of, so if you’re asking me if I want to continue this, if it were up to me, then yes, absolutely. No doubts and no conditions. I don’t care if it’s official or unofficial, if we tell people or not, I don’t care. Not as long as I can be with you.”

His words made your heart race, and quickly you leant up to press your lips against his again, making him smile.

“I take it this means you feel the same,” he asked between kisses.

“Yes, one hundred percent.”

Ray grinned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you to pull you as tight against him as he could, making you giggle as you kissed him back. The chocolate milk on the counter behind you was, at least for now, completely forgotten.

Taglist:

 @alexstyx​ @jayloverthe3rd​ @robinruns​ @lookalivefrosty​ @butterflycore​  @omgsuperstarg​ @fivelegance​ @deadlovers​ @casmustdiee​​ @cmtryghoul​​  @xocasper​ (as promised!) and @doc-martens-enthusiast​ (also as promised!)

#ray toro x reader #ray toro x you #ray toro x gn!reader #no pronouns #ray toro x reader imagine #ray toro x reader fluff #ray toro x reader imagines #ray toro x reader fanfiction #ray toro x reader fanfic #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance imagines #mcr fanfiction #mcr imagine #mcr imagines #mcr fanfic #fluff #angst to fluff #the morning after

[dumblilb]

I’m gonna rip his clit off if he doesn’t get in my bed right now

#my chemical romance #frank iero #frank iero x reader #frank iero smut #gerard way #mikey way #ray toro #my chemical romance smut #pro rev #revenge frank #revenge era #mcr #tcfsr #three cheers for sweet revenge #the black parade #i brought you my bullets you brought me your love #danger days

[mintspidey]

just text me- ray toro

summary- you don't expect your tutor to be remotely attractive. you certainly don't expect him to care about anything other than his transcript. but seeing the recipient of the president's scholarship and the name on top of the dean's list shredding electric guitar on stage with his tattooed and pierced band members has you reevaluating your life; did you want to fuck your tutor? author's note and warnings- ray/ftm!reader, cunnilingus, sexual tension, nerd ray, suspicious gerard, pete wentz mention if you squint (comment if you find him), trans allegory, smut. enjoy :)

you stare blankly at the loading webpage, gut coiling at the speed of the buffering dots in the middle of the screen. rubbed, red eyes and undone hair bathing in the fluorescent light of the screen, instant noodles steaming near your keyboard in a cheap plastic cup, you lean back in your chair, the plasticky armrests pricking your skin. the only light source in your room is the laptop you were given last year, especially because the main white tubelight in your ceiling makes you depressed, something about the emptiness it casts over your room, reminding you of hospital lights; the feeling of being on display bothers you deeply. 

the digital clock on your nightstand reads 3:03 am; near the giant text is a small symbol reading the time you set for your alarm, 8:00 am. most days you would get less than four hours of sleep, so this was not surprising for you at all. you toggle your index finger on the mouse, scrolling down to the end of the page, clicking on “see available tutors.” incisors sinking into the plush flesh of your bottom lip, you skim through the math tutors listed on the pdf. 

most tutors were listed under first-year math courses, resulting in an immediate elimination from your shortlist. you word-search “fourth-year data statistics,” meeting with only one result. you pout at the lack of options but click on his profile anyway; not like you have a choice. 

there is no profile picture on his listing, just the words “raymond toro: fourth year, dean’s list.” your eyes flicker to his tutoring times and contact information, fingers reaching for the nearest pen and pad to jot down the information. you have definitely heard his name before in classwide emails about how he received the president’s scholarship. but, fucking hell, you never expected him to tutor people; you figured he was just too busy studying to do anything for others. 

shutting your laptop, you kick away from your study desk, looking over your roommate’s bed behind you to make sure she doesn’t wake up. she stirs slightly and goes back to softly snoring, making you sigh in relief. tiptoeing to your bed, you lift the covers as quietly as possible and climb in, switching your phone on and going over to instagram.

you ignore your inbox and any notifications that pop down from the top of your screen and focus on typing the tutor’s name into the search bar. you click the top result, the one with the most mutual friends. that has to be him you think, hoping his profile was public.

it was, but it didn’t help; his profile picture was an electric guitar, and he had not posted. furrowing your brows, you bite the inside of your lip, pressing on the tagged pictures. 

bingo.

the only picture he was tagged in was posted by the username “gwayyy.” your thumb is quick to scroll through the post,  barely paying attention to the owner of the account, tapping on each slide to see if any of the tagged people in the pictures is this “raymond toro.”

you end up in the last slide, meeting the back profile of a man with shoulder-length curly hair, a broad back, and a slimmer waist than you would expect. 

you pictured a gallon of hair gel slicking his hair to the side and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses; you know, someone who would get a hard-on from every a-plus they get in their classes. 

you switch your phone off, place it on the nightstand and shut your eyes, trying to fall asleep, even though you know you stay up past four in the morning every day. 

your eyes shoot open to stare at your wall, the queen poster staring back at you. the aircon sends a chill down your spine, triggering a pang of anxiety and turning your legs into jelly. you cannot afford to lose your scholarship, and your declining grades only add pressure to every fiber in your body.

you miss the first-year of your undergraduate degree, when you could pass exams without studying too much, get high every few days, and waste time with your friends. it definitely does not help that your family wants you to get a well-paying job right out of college, and you are already in your fourth-year, no clue what you want to do with your life. you barely meet with your friends now, forget about getting high for no reason and spending time at some rando’s dorm party getting tipsy, trying to flirt with the nearest warm body you find. 

the focused, determined student you once aspired to be had died, leaving but a husk of weak motivation. one part of you wants to graduate and leave this place, the other part does not want to enter the workforce that would put you in a cubicle with other mindless drones feeding capitalism’s drooling gluttonous gut. 

or something like that.

plugging in your headphones, you lie on your back, eyelids drooping down. the lulling melody submerging you under a thin layer of unconsciousness. 

you dream about a budding flower that night, a dahlia, it seems. it looks fake, though, almost like it is made of plastic. it grows thorns, roots growing deeper and stronger into the soil. dew drops slide into the center of the flower, swirling into a hurricane-like pattern, revealing a red rose. 

the enticing nature of the flower, the way it swings against the wind like its first breath of fresh air. the flower stands tall, taller than it did when it was a fake, plastic dahlia. rose petals glow against the moonlight, almost smiling. your chest feels warm, you feel your body rise to the air, disintegrate into rose petals. you are happy.

the deafening ringing of your alarm wakes you up, fluorescent rings of pink and yellow emerging from the darkness under your squinted eyes. 

“turn it off, bitch!” you hear your roommate muffle through her pillow, your fingers reaching for the top of the alarm to slam it off. your roommate was never a morning person, exactly like you, so you don’t mind her cussing you out even though she was basically a twenty something year old mother teresa if she were a stoner reincarnated any other time of day.

your phone in one hand and toothbrush in the other, you email the tutor, not putting too much thought into the message before sending it and shoving your phone into your hoodie’s pocket. dark circles curve under your eyes- remnants of last night’s anxiety keeping you up. splashing ice-cold water helps them depuff, you heard.

*

the library is colder than usual, making you bring the cup of coffee to your eyes and warming them one at a time as you walk toward one of the study rooms. the email he almost immediately replied back with, said he would be in room 102, followed by five exclamations. 

way too enthusiastic for a tutoring session. and nine in the morning. and data statistics.

the gray carpet in the building makes you sleepier for some reason, sipping on your drink and knocking on the door labeled ‘102.’ the liquid warms you, soothing your organs as the door creaks open and your head cranes up. 

“hey! nice to see you! i’m ray,” the boy flashes you a toothy smile, curly brown hair like you saw in “gwayyy’s” instagram post. you marvel at how tall he is, almost reaching the doorframe. you don’t know whether to feel inferior or attracted to his height, but you nod, reaching your hand out. 

his hand engulfs yours easily, fingertips clearly calloused by the way they feel against the back of your palm. your cold hands that were once rigid, are now warm and protected, almost making you gasp at the reintroduction of the aircon to your skin when he pulls back. 

he walks in, making way for you as you assess the room. pale eggshell-white walls, destroyed on the edges with water stains, envelop the two of you. it smells like old books and mothballs at first as you drop your back near the foot of the chair nearest to you, and take a seat, adjusting your clothes. 

“thanks for replying so fast, by the way. i kind of needed help with this class.” you state, bending down to fish your notebook out as you feel his footsteps near your chair. 

his backpack was perched on top of the other side of the table, near the whiteboard, so you knew he was coming near you. 

“of course! yeah," raymond speaks. his voice is higher than you expect, masked by a husky filter and you look up at the direction of his voice, surprised by how close he was. 

it isn’t weird, he is there to tutor you after all. all he does is pull out a chair near yours, and place his hand on the table, fingers sprawled across the wooden top. you take a millisecond to see how his hand was basically the size of your notebook before meeting his face, closer to getting a better view.

“you know, i don’t get many students hitting me up to tutor them, so this is refreshing. i was totally just going to rot in my bed all day.” he comments, rolling his eyes playfully, trying to make you warm up to him. you smile, looking down at your notebook and grabbing your pen. your go-to move with anyone, platonic or romantic, is avoiding direct eye-contact for as long as possible. you straighten your back, swearing you watched his eyes flicked to your chest before switching to the whiteboard across the room. 

“so, what do you need help with?” he asks, pushing his chair back against the rough carpet and walking to the other side, watching his tight black shirt bundle up near his waist. your gaze scans his figure, noticing how the flimsy black fabric hugs his back and trails down to the waistband of his jeans that hug his hips tight. you make a mental note to stop staring but where else are you going to look? you’re there to watch him teach. 

nope, you are there to learn, so you don’t fail your classes and lose your scholarship. 

that reminder makes you snap out of the staring contest you had with the small of his back and look back up at him, ready with an answer, “uhh. confidence intervals.” 

it comes out more like a question, spoiling how clueless you are with the subject and you see him smile and nod at your tone before grabbing a dry-erase marker. five pens lie on the thin metal tray across the underside of the white board, and of course, ray doesn’t grab the one that works well the first time. or the fourth time. 

you watch him struggle and cuss through the process, biting back a smile at the way his curls shake at every sigh of disappointment. 

“there we go!” he exclaims, writing down the concept name on the white board, involuntarily flexing the muscles bulging near the ends of his short-sleeves. you see the hint of a tiny tattoo under the sleeve but you decide to save that for later amusement and focus on his words. 

“so, it’s super simple,” he begins, rambling about the definition, something about how it is the range in which you expect your test value to follow, and you soon realize that it, in fact, was not super simple. 

you nod, wanting to let him know that you were listening and alert. your eyes widen, and an unknowing smile spreads on your lips. he talked with his hands. a lot. the more animated he was, the more his hair moved around his face, and the more distracted you were. 

“so basically that is how you end up with the test value, do you know how to figure out if it is a right or left-tailed test?”

fuck, what the hell was that? you look away from him, pretending to think, knowing full well you have no fucking clue what it is. you press your lips together and squint your eyes, “...no.”

“no worries, that’s what i’m here for,” he smiles this time, a toothy grin, almost unexpected from someone of his stature, flashing before he turns around to draw yet another bell-curve on the white board. you watch his shoulder blades move with every letter he writes, how the small of his back stands prominent with the tightness of his shirt. 

he looks back a few times to confirm your attention, his lips pursing before turning back to the board and continuing teaching. he likes to ramble a lot, you notice, but it isn’t unnecessary by any means. if anything, it helps you retain information. 

you ask him questions, pen gliding against the thin notebook paper as you write down what is on the board. he folds his hands, one arm propping up on the other and reaching for his chin like he’s thinking of the answers. 

as more time passes, his shoulders relax, the back and forth between the two of you reaching a comfortable rhythm. you ask a question, he goes on a tangent and you fill out another page with ease, all the pieces of puzzle from different lectures falling into place. 

you let out a couple astonished “ohhhhh”s, like you finally understood the meaning of life and your tutor just smiles at your surprise each time. you bite down on your lip and knit your brows as he asks you if you understand him or not. 

“holy shit, this makes so much sense now.” you drop your head in relief and look back at him screwing the lid of the marker back on. he walks to the chair near you as you pen down the last of the diagram he drew before shutting your notebook close. 

“i wish you taught this class instead of higgins,” you comment, stuffing your belongings in your back, “i swear he hates his students.”

“higgins can be a toughie, but he’s just old, you know? and maybe slightly senile.” 

you chuckle, “thank you, raymond, seriously,” you rise to your feet strapping your bag on and looking down at where he sits. 

“oh, you can just call me ray, raymond is more for the official student records.”

oh, ray toro. has a nice ring to it. 

“okay, cool. do you teach anything else, ray?” you don’t expect your words to come out as flirtatiously as they do, but you can’t swallow them so you go with it, flashing a smile to coat them as platonically as possible. 

“uh… not officially. but if you ever need me to look over essays, or whatever, i’ll do it, i don’t get much traffic nowadays anyway so i’ll probably be free unless i’m at a gig.” 

so that electric guitar in his profile picture wasn’t for show. 

“oh, you perform?” you ask, feeling like a stalker. 

“yeah, i play guitar in this band, you probably haven’t heard of us.” he waves it off, clearly not one to boast about his personal life. 

“i’d love to catch a show,” you blurt out, not expecting your statement to sound as intense as it does. 

he cocks an eyebrow, “oh, for real? let me give you my number then, we have this show tomorrow night.”

already exchanging numbers? you giggle internally, watching his fingers tap the screen before giving you his phone. 

“i’ll just text you the time and address, gerard's still working out the logistics.” ray explains, erasing the whiteboard and pushing all the chairs into place.

you tilt your head in confusion, “gerard…?”

“oh, he’s our lead singer. you’ll see him tomorrow. hard to miss him.”

*

ray is right, of course. the next night, after hours of stewing in excitement to see ray perform, you watch this “gerard” dance and sing around the stage, flicking his tongue at the crowd, glistening in sweat from the stage lights beating down on the band. they are good. 

you aren’t at the very front though, that space was occupied by people who look like they have been waiting all their lives to see ray’s band perform so you sit right off the pit, pulling your jacket taut into yourself. you squint, trying to gauge a feel for each member. there is one on the left, banging his head, his lips spread apart like he’s mid orgasm at any given moment, tattoos spreading up his arms all the way to his neck. there’s one on the bass, seemingly timid, a beanie pulled over his straightened hair swooped to the side, the only one with glasses on and the tightest shirt on the planet. 

then there’s ray whose gaze is fixated down at his guitar, his tongue sticking out like there is nothing more important in the world. his guitar is crystal clear even when the expressive, red-haired frontman screams into the microphone. you feel your heart race at the sight of him shredding on the instrument, bouncing curls and flexing forearms prominent under the yellow lights. 

the overpriced drink in your hand that is seventy percent tequila and ten percent juice has you nodding along to the song, even though rock was never in your top genres on spotify. it may be the alcohol or their talent in general, because they sound good. like, scream your heart out to their songs and want to be their groupie good.

okay, maybe the latter is the alcohol talking. 

mostly girls around you fawn over the band’s frontman, or the one playing the bass, mikey, you gather from their screams. as their set comes to an end, he girls beeline from the pit to the backstage, excited giggles erupting one after the other. you feel like shit. 

ray is probably straight. he probably fucks girls left and right, he’s in a rock band after all. 

the defeatist in you, however, soon fails as you find your fingers fighting the cold and typing out a message to ray. 

-hey, i watched your set. you were great!

a sense of superiority dawns over you. do the others have his number? fuck no, they don’t.

your eyes follow ray as he walks out the stage with his guitar in one hand and the amplifier in the other. fuck, he’s strong. 

the tequila has hit you, you realize, as you rake your eyes over his body from the crowd, a strange sense of jealousy over someone you met only yesterday pricking at your chest. your phone vibrates against your palm in your coat pocket, and you see a text from ray.

-super! you wanna come backstage?” 

bing-fuckin-o.

you send a thumbs up and begin your trail around the venue, budding anxiety popping like bubbles. your eyes scour for the backstage, or any group of girls bunched together. where there’s smoke there’s fire, after all. 

you hear your name through the commotion of screams and giggles and whip your head in the direction, spotting him. he waves from inside a shed, the door open for anyone who wants to meet the band. you flash a smile, feeling giddy that he has the same interest in you as you do after only a few days of meeting him. 

he’s just being nice, you tell yourself.

he wants to fuck you, you argue, immediately knowing which part of you is the drunk one. 

you fight the wind, running toward the shed that has a string of fairy lights wrapped around the inside of the room. the room isn’t huge; enough for about twenty people to stand around and mingle. a sudden warmth embraces you as you blow a tired breath out and approach ray who’s nursing a beer, his eyebrows shooting up.

“you made it! how’d you like us?” ray raises his voice over the slightly loud music playing over somebody’s bluetooth speaker. you look over at the noise and look up at him through your eyelashes, feeling smaller than him. 

it turns you on. 

“you were awesome! the way you shred, it was so fucking cool.” ray hears you curse for the first time and giggles, the same toothy grin flashing across his face. he takes a swig of his beer, bringing the mouth of the glass bottle to his- wow his lips were plump.

the shed is barely lit, a lavender-colored sunset light on the right corner of the floor was the only light source. a strong scent of cigarettes and weed lingers in the air and occasionally clears out as the door opens when someone has to go out to piss, you assume. people huddle in groups, some way larger than the others. but ray stood alone when you walked in.  

he leans down to you, and your heart stops momentarily. his breath fans the shell of your ear. his face was fucking near yours. 

“i didn’t think you would make it.” he says, this time at a regular volume now that his lips were right near your ears. you shiver when his breath hits your skin, failing to compute what he says for a second.

you lean toward his ear, pulling him in by his arms on reflex because he seems too far to your tipsy ass brain, “of course i did. i need to get my grades up!” you joke, hoping to god he sees the humor lacing your voice. 

he chuckles, oh how sweet his voice is, you think, relief fighting the cortisol in your brain. 

“ray! what are you doing all the way over-” you hear his name being called, a blur of red hair knifing through the little crowd around him. you could see girls’ hands drag across his chest and even grab his shirt and he flashes them an obligatory get-the-fuck-off-me smile before catching up to the man in front of you. 

it is gerard, his red hair dripping in sweat making him the most easy to recognize. you watch the shorter guy turn his head towards you, “who’s this, ray?”

ray introduces you, “i tutored him yesterday.”

gerard’s eyes scan you from head to toe, a polite smile appearing, “good to know you’re not trying to rip ray’s clothes off like that crowd back there.”

if only he knew. you chuckle at his comment, looking at ray nervously before turning toward gerard, “you guys were super great, by the way.”

“you’re sweet, aren’t you.” gerard tilts his head, his fingers massaging ray’s biceps. you believe gerard notices the way your eye twitches at his move on ray and the corner of his mouth perks up, “huh, maybe not.” 

the crowd filters out of the shed, leaving the band and a couple of their friends, you assume, to let their hair down and get a couple of drinks in. 

“how long do these,” you look around at people rolling joints and pout, impressed, “...afterparties go on for?” 

ray looks up, trying to come up with an answer, “uh, like a few hours, no one knows really. i live on campus so i leave whenever i want to, sometimes g and frank stay back. sometimes we see mikey come to practice the next day with the same clothes on,” he shrugs, “it’s different every time.”

you aren’t sober by any means, but you aren’t piss-drunk either when you meet frank and mikey, the shorter one with a scorpion tattoo on his neck, with closer inspection, betraying his onstage persona. mikey, who you’re told is gerard’s younger brother, is as quiet as he seems when he plays on stage. you smile at him and make small talk, compliment his neon genesis evangelion shirt and he grins in surprise, revealing his pointy canines. 

ray is across the room, mingling with some people who you assume are from other bands who performed before them. a man with a shorter stature and a fuckton of eyeliner, wearing a zip-up hoodie that barely hid his torso, a tattoo around his collarbone with nothing underneath, sips on a cigarette and talks to ray, looking up at him like you did yesterday.

you don’t realize how long you’re staring until ray finds your stare, downing the beer he holds so casually between his index and middle finger. your gut flips. heat spreads from your chest to your stomach, making you crush your paper cup and throw it away in dismissal. 

you dream of the same flower you did yesterday. an odd sense of belonging tags along the haze you’re merged in. this time with another rose beside it. the roots of the other, pinker rose intertwined with yours, the ends connecting and becoming one. 

you wake up the next morning with a headache you haven’t had in months. you’ve heard of hangover remedies like swallowing a raw egg yolk. but you would never do that, even if it meant you were throwing up in the paper bag near your nightstand. which you do. 

admittedly, throwing up makes you feel better before you realize what you have to do today. 

the stack of papers on your table resembles mount everest as you contemplate the quantity of it all. not only had you forgotten about the project, but it is also due tomorrow night.

grabbing a coffee and a breakfast sandwich from the cafeteria, you sprint back to your dorm, trying not to wake your roommate up who had worked late last night and met you on the way to your shared room after the afterparty with ray’s band. 

ray was offering and insisting that he drop you off since he invited you there, but you politely declined, horny and exhausted out of your mind. 

the way he looked at you last night. his gaze clinging to every inch of you before looking away, had not only given you some interesting dreams that may have involved getting fucked in the lecture hall, but also left a lasting feeling that there was a ball of fire in your ribcage. 

you consider asking ray for help on your project. 

no, you can’t. he has better things to do. 

scanning through the question on the paper only makes you lean into the idea. suddenly forgetting everything ray taught you the day before. time blurs for you, and you don’t realize you have already texted ray and asked him if he can help you, fixing your hair and second-guessing your outfit.

wait, why did you care?

your phone dings. 

-all of the study rooms are booked :( 

you throw your phone on the bed, the pile of papers making your stomach sink lower into your body. fuck, you’re going to fail the class. you’re going to fail all because you went to the show yesterday to look at this fucking boy, who caught your fucking eye, and you wanted to fuc-

-unless you’re okay with me coming over.

you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t pound so hard against your rib cage that your ears started ringing. you send the same thumbs up emoji, pretending to be casual, regular; anything synonymous with normalcy. the coffee in your system kicks into overdrive; you straighten out your room, tell your roommate to get the fuck out once she gets up and receive a bunch of sex jokes in exchange, all of which you blush at. 

“have fun blowing that dude,” she yells, probably loud enough for your neighbors to hear. she closes the door on the way out, missing the paper ball you threw at her. 

*

“oh wow, your room is way cleaner than mine.” ray appears at your dorm in another tight black shirt, this time with the iron maiden logo that has clearly fought the washer and lost the fight multiple times. 

you see him duck through the door frame, fixing his hair back into position, and you try not to feel your heart wrench at the sight of him being adorable. you bring the papers down to the floor, a signal for ray to mirror you. he sits next to the foot of the bed, leaning against the wooden leg. his hands wrap around his knee, neck craning near yours to get a better look at the questions laid out on the fluffy grayish white carpet. 

you don’t realize that the shorts you’re wearing ride up your thighs, almost presenting themselves to the taller figure in the room. your legs lay on top of each other, almost parallel to the direction ray faces. you prop yourself up on the ball of your left palm, the arm that is stretched behind you, leaning into ray. ray begins helping you, talking about the different mistakes you make as you go through the process of solving the questions. his voice rings near your face, and you find yourself adjusting your seat on the carpet, moving the hem of the shorts closer to your pelvis. 

ray begins stuttering, and for a while you wonder what that is about. he strokes his chin like he’s thinking hard but it is clear that he is pretending to do so. the room gets hotter and you turn your head to check the thermostat. 

it’s the same. 

maybe it is the way you meet ray’s eyes, his plump, berry lips curving into a smirk at every joke you crack, or the way he, at least you think, gets distracted by your legs on display. he bends down to the papers, the fabric of the shirt stretching over his back, and you can’t help but think about leaving scratches on his back and trailing your fingers down his spine. 

ray smells like soap and the kind of cologne that a college kid can afford, not too charming, not too repellant. his hair is nearer to you than his face, and you can smell his shampoo that’s kind of coconut-y and beachy, and you try your best not to audibly inhale. 

you go through the papers at the speed of lightning with ray there to coach you through it. you chew and bite your lip, working through the problems with utter concentration. sometimes you don’t realize that ray is talking, and you end up ignoring him and apologizing for spacing out at the project. 

“holy shit, you were focused huh? like shiva at his penance,” ray comments, and you don’t understand. and he figures.

“shiva is a hindu deity. he’s known to be the sage of all sages, nobody would disturb his penance on top of this mountain in india,” he says, like he's almost embarrassed about knowing trivia. 

“wow…” you trail off, “and you just know all this?”

he chuckles, ducking his head and looking back up, “i used to google things a lot as a kid…” you cock an eyebrow, not believing him.

“...and maybe i still do.” he admits, palming his face, hiding that smile of his you love to see. 

“i admire that actually. i used to be obsessed with dinosaurs, google was like my life for a good few years” you comment, not expecting his countenance to be that of enthrallment; almost childlike joy. 

“you’re kidding, right? i did too! if you ever come over, you’ll see dinosaur stickers on my laptop and some of my drawers.” and you try not to think too much about the implication of the statement. 

you sort through the papers to make sure you don’t miss a single page and then turn toward ray, who was closer than before. you see specks of gray and black in his eyes, the way his nose bumps up slightly, freckles adorning his olive-toned skin. you notice he has dimples, appearing with each smile. his toothy grin melts you, and you feel that similar warmth you felt last night blossoming in your ribs. 

your breath hitches in your throat before you realize you’re staring like a madman into his eyes. 

“good job today,” ray says, his hand shaking your shoulder, jolts of electricity branching up the point of contact. you look away, a tight-lipped smile masking the sudden pulse his compliment sent straight between your legs. 

“oh, thanks. i really couldn’t have done this without you.” 

ray waves you off, leaning away, upsetting you slightly, “of course you could have. i just pointed you in the direction, you were the one on the journey.”

“any chance you play dnd?” you question, almost teasing his attempt at being poetic.

“it’s that obvious, huh?”

you both laugh, voices ringing out. you don’t remember laughing like this in a while, especially with someone you admired this much. the laughs settle into a comfortable silence as the two of you look out at the plane passing through the window. 

“you know, you’re super talented.” you say, out of the blue, and immediately regret it, thinking you were giving away too much. he turns to you, you observe through your peripheral vision, almost like he knows you have more to say. 

“i mean. the way you just performed like it was breathing to you, it really is rare to see talent like that, especially in this dump of a town.” you finish, clearing your throat in the end, waiting for him to say something. 

“i don’t know what to say,”

“for starters, a thank you would suffice,” you quip, a humorous tone tagging along. 

he starts to rise from his seat, “thanks, i do appreciate it. it’s difficult for me to take compliments, though, if you haven’t figured it out yet.”

you ignore him, “oh yeah, you probably have to leave, sorry to keep yo-”

“no no! i love helping other students, you weren’t keeping me from anything else. i just have band practice in a few, so i have to get going,” 

you swear you hear regret in his voice but maybe you liked to lie to yourself. 

as you watch him see himself out, you wait for him to turn around, say something. 

come on, don’t leave without giving me something. 

“oh by the way,” ray turns around. you hope he doesn’t notice your eyes gleam at the sudden lightbulb moment of his. 

“there’s a mixer on sunday. the band’s gonna be there. you should come, if you’re not busy.”

you nod, and he leaves with a promise that he’ll text you the address. 

he does, followed by a text that says, “hope 2 c u :)”, and you receive a side eye from your roommate who watches you bury your face in your pillow and kick your feet. something about the way ray had to peel his eyes off your legs subconsciously makes you pick something that shows them off, ending up with fishnets and a short skirt you bought on a whim months ago that collected dust in the back of your closet. 

at this point, you know one thing. ray isn’t straight. you very well know you can imagine and exaggerate situations to fit your narrative, and that very well may be the case, but you don’t care. 

it’s your last year. it doesn’t matter if you’re rejected or if you really are imagining things. senioritis in university makes you hit a special low where you could care less what happened. you borrow a jacket from your roommate, ignoring the comment on how she would be really mad if you got ray’s jizz on it. 

*

sunday rolls in and your stomach does not stop jumping. you had somehow completed all your work ahead of time without having to ask ray for help. anxiety was nowhere to be found, just excitement and a little bit of nervousness to see him after days of texting him. 

he had sent you a picture of the dinosaur sticker on his drawer unprompted, and your heart skipped a beat at the notification before you began having conversations that extended late into the night. 

late night conversations turn into exchanging music recommendations and funny videos you find. he sends you videos of his band playing, and he’s the only one you watch, but of course you say, “you guys are going to make it big someday.”

saturday night before turning in, you text him.

-good luck. can’t wait to see you guys perform.

-you’re sweet.

you keep going back to the text, giggling at it throughout the day, even as you get dressed for the mixer. you keep telling yourself he’s being nice but you are at the event, looking around for ray or gerard, or anyone you know. a rotating light hung low in the middle of the floor, a small podium for people to perform at the mixer. people hover around the bar, clearly no age check involved in the process as they swipe drinks and trail off with a huge smile on their faces. 

you feel a hand on your shoulder, and you swear your heart jumps into your throat. 

“ray! i’ve been trying to find you forever.” you look up at him, a sliver of purple and pink lights from the disco ball light streaks across his face like an illuminated scar. 

“so have i, come on back, this place is just for the general public,” he nods his head toward the other direction, fingers grabbing your wrist and nudging you toward him.

“ooo, i feel like a groupie,” you comment, and you hear him giggle, thanking god he doesn’t take you seriously no matter how much you want your words to be true. 

gerard sips a cigarette indoors, frank tunes his guitar with an ear down to the strings, and mikey is nowhere to be found. gerard looks amused at you as he blows smoke out. ray steps out to grab drinks, and you feel vulnerable. exposed. 

“so…” gerard begins, and you know he’s not about to make small talk, “ray has told me a lot about you.”

“all of us actually,” frank interjects, and you look at both of them, bewildered. 

“oh,” he talks about you? “all good things, i hope.”

“oh yes, overwhelmingly.” gerard ashes the stick between his fingers on the crystal tray near him. you sense mischief in his voice as he gives you the same head-to-toe scan that he did the first time you met him. 

“ray isn’t the outgoing type,” mikey walks in. you turn around in surprise to see him without his beanie and glasses for the first time. you can see how similar his features are to gerard’s. 

“yet, here you are, after what?” gerard tilts his head, “a week of meeting him?”

his tone isn’t malicious, nothing he says could sound malicious because he knew how to talk to people, how to handle them. that’s what made him a good frontman. 

“would you be surprised if i say i don’t gel well with strangers either?” you shrug and straighten your back, trying not to seem so timid around them.

they chuckle with you at the irony of the statement, gerard simply says, “i like you,”

you tilt your head slightly, not sure what to say and gerard offers you his cigarette, “ray doesn’t trust people often. and when he does he’s rarely wrong.”

you wave his offer with a small “no, thanks,” and he continues, “i hope he isn’t wrong.”

*

“are you okay?” ray asks you after the show, a beer in his right hand as he leans back into the wall of the green room. 

“yeah, i’m fine, i think i was just too close to the speakers so my head hurts a bit,” 

you aren’t fine. you’re thinking about what gerard said to you, and you barely paid attention to the performance and focused on distracting yourself with a shot of tequila that burned deliciously down your throat. 

you make eye contact with gerard across the room who is sitting on frank’s lap for some reason, his stare less threatening at this point because ray is there. he can’t be obvious. 

gut slowly burning and the alcohol in your system climbing up to your head, you ask ray if he wants shots and before you know it you’re carrying a small tray of salt and slices of lime with two little vials of tequila. 

“do you know how to do this?” you ask, not knowing what you got yourself into. 

“yeah it's super simple,” you hear, trying your best not to giggle at his go-to phrase, “lick, shoot, and suck.”

you dip the back of your hand in the hill of salt, where the index finger and the thumb meet, you glance at ray once before nodding, and lick up a stripe of your hand. ray does the same and you try not to think about the fact that that is how he would look between your legs. you throw your head back in unison with ray, squinted eyes and sour face, sucking at the bright green slice of fruit before smacking your lips. 

ray sits beside you, thighs pressed up against yours, leaning into you, giggling. a rosy blush rises to his cheeks, and his eyelids lie lower than before. your body is on fire. tipsy words making you stutter and laugh for no reason, forgetting about what gerard said for a while. 

ray walks you to your dorm that night, stumbling on the street and giggling at nothing in particular. you clutch his shirt for support as you burst into a fit of laughter at a joke he makes, not caring if you’re loud. 

the lingering breeze in the air makes your skin feel less hot even though being near ray was enough to make you sweat through a leather jacket. the streetlights shine down on the two of you, slowing down in your path and strolling, kicking pebbles and making a game out of them.

you ask him how he got into playing guitar, he tells you a story about how he got ripped off buying his first guitar that broke in the first fifteen minutes of playing it. you tell him about your university experience, your plans for your career. 

he beams at you with genuine admiration in his eyes, eyes softening. the spirit had weakened its effects on your body; you walked with a straighter back and a higher chin than before. almost like a gateway opening for your anxiety. 

“so, gerard told me something,” you begin, not sure what you want to know from striking this topic up.

“hm? what’d he say?” he asks, kicking the poor pebble on the pavement. 

“he said you don’t make friends that easily.” it sounds bad out loud, but you know that he knows what you mean. 

he chortles, “yeah? what else did he say?”

you raise an eyebrow, as if checking with him if you should continue, “he just… he said he hopes you’re not wrong with me.”

the two of you enter your dorm, shuffling through pockets and keycards. ray stays quiet. you noticed he does that when he isn’t ready to talk just yet because he’s thinking of the most logical and rational answer possible.

“why did he-” he begins, and you listen, ignoring the fact that ray follows you to your actual room, trying to justify his friend’s words. 

“he said something about how you can’t stop talking about me and thinking about me,” you flash a shit-eating grin, his eyes widening immediately. 

“that fucker…” he trails off, his head dropping down in defeat. 

“so it’s true?” you ask, leaning your back against the main door, a foot propped up on the surface. your back is straight, if not arched. you feel the after effects of downing two shots of fireball take over, the haze of the liquor blurs the line between “study buddies.”

he steps closer to you. there’s barely anyone outside in the hallways, they are either out partying or fast asleep. his hand trails up the doorframe, palm against the bumped surface. he’s so big that he casts a shadow over you from the main light. you notice his eyes trace your figure, backed up against a door, at his mercy. 

his left arm trails up your waist and stays there, “do you want it to be?” 

*

your bodies move in the dark, an orchestra of heavy breaths and moans bouncing off your dorm’s walls. the posters in your room are but flies on the wall as ray carries you to your bed, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. you lick into his mouth, his warm and soft lips slick with your saliva engulfing yours. 

you breathe in, the scent of his sweat driving your senses into a frenzy and your grip on his hair tenses up. he pulls away to look at your face under the moonlight beaming through your frosted window. ray tastes like the tequila you downed with him, deliciously bitter and intoxicating, his shiny lips sending waves of lightning to your clit. 

neither of you have spoken a word, fingers and lips grabbing and groping each other like hormonal teenagers away from their families at summer camp. ray places you on your bed, your sheets suddenly feeling foreign to you with him hovering above you, his fingers nosing toward the curve of your ass. 

involuntary whimpers escape your throat as his fingers stroke down the back of your thighs; he hooks one of them to the fishnets and rips them in one go, handling your thighs like he starves for something more than open mouthed kisses over his lips that make his cock stir in his tight jeans. the gasp you let out is more out of pleasure and surprise, and less of you mourning the loss of your clothing. 

“all this time, toro, yo- ah, fuck you- you liked me?” you kiss his neck as he works on peeling the fishnets off your legs, throwing your legs over his shoulders, elbows digging into your mattress, leaving kisses up your inner thighs. your arousal was obvious, ray- even you- could smell it through your underwear. 

ray stops and climbs up to face you, his fingers stroking your happy trail and you buck your hips for more just at his touch at your sensitive waist. he asks you if you’re okay and if you want to stop, you need to tell him. 

you grab him by his collar and pull him in, teeth clashing, skin feeling like a burning matchstick, flame eating away at its wooden body. you blabber nonsense, not able to get enough of his full lips around yours; hands lacing around his waist pulling him so close that if he didn’t pull away you would be crushed by his body weight. he kisses down your stomach, his calloused fingers soothing under your hoodie and to your breasts, tracing under the mounds of flesh before his hands flew to your thighs. 

soft trailing kisses become warm, careful presses down your stomach. you breathe like you don’t want him to hear how bad you need him, but your efforts are soon wasted as he presses his nose against your clit. 

inner thighs pressing into his ears, hips bucking up to the warmth of his mouth over the damp cotton underwear, you look down at him, locks of curls falling beautifully over his eyes. his tongue licks a stripe up through the fabric, the frills of your skirt resembling one of those bell-curves ray drew on the whiteboard the first time you met him, with him underneath it.

skilled tongue that circles on your clit before curling his digits under the hem of your panties, yanking the fabric off your skin, a sudden chill making you feel exposed. ray doesn’t let you feel that way any longer; his tongue licks up the folds of your pussy, tasting you whole and you almost pass out from the sheer euphoria locking down the ends of your spine on your bed, the arch in your back pushing your clit further against his nose. 

you beg and beg and beg him to do something. he simply chuckles and swipes the pad of his thumb on your slit before dipping his middle finger into you, a guttural groan emanating from your throat. your feet move against his crotch and you feel his dick strain against his tight jeans, his tongue replacing his finger and tugging you into his face, delving into you. 

hands thread through his curls, clutching and pulling at him needing to feel a release expeditiously. the hotness of his mouth against your pulsing core has you palming your tits hoodie, playing and pinching at your nipples. 

teeth pulling at the skin on your thighs, making you moan helplessly has him circling your clit with his thumb, wanting to hear more of your voice. you chant his name like a prayer, like he would somehow lift your soul up to the heavens with his tongue. 

his stubble adds delectable friction to your cunt and you gasp like your life depends on him; you forget everything. every word, every person in the world, every fucking thing is wiped clean like patterns in the sand under the foamy waves of the ocean. 

your thighs clench around his head, the honestly fucking corrupt noises of him devouring your pussy muffling under the flesh of your tastefully bruised thighs. he hums lowly, gulping and licking and gorging, the vibrations of his voice (that you didn’t know could get that fuckin low) driving you closer to the white light of orgasm that seems so close. 

his moans crescendo as the heels of your feet grind into his cock, his lips pressing and sucking harder at your clit, his fingers that once moved carefully in your slick walls, now quickening and curling up into you. 

you plead, you beg, you pray to him, hips jerking againsts mouth as his teeth lightly graze over the swollen lips of your cunt, your nails scratch his scalp perfectly, the tip of his tongue licks up your clit perfectly and his fingers, oh his fingers, scratch an itch seated so deep inside you that you swear you see stars before tipping over the edge, bottom lips falling open in a silent plea.

you ride his nose, his tongue, you push his head down, fist his hair, do whatever it takes, to make your orgasm last as long as possible, ankles meeting at the back of his neck. the way your legs shake at his last lap on your swollen clit, moonlight reflecting off of his beautiful brown eyes and your arousal dripping down his chin makes you go dizzier- if it was even fucking possible- and you feel like you’re high on the world’s most euphoric drug. 

you smile down at him, fingers holding his cheeks gently, nudging him up to meet your face; his palms digging into your ruined sheets on either side of you, lowering his wet lips onto yours, wanting you to taste yourself against his tongue. you breathe into his kiss, his hair falling on your face, you feel him smile against your mouth and you suddenly remember. 

“ray, do you want me to-” you start, eyebrows twisting up in concern and he cuts you off with another sweet kiss to your lips.

“you expect me to not cream my pants when you’re splayed out like this in front of me, in this little fucking thing around your waist?” his words sound harsh, but admiration fills his eyes, and you know it’s just an amalgamation of what the both of you have been feeling for the past few days. 

“you fucking-” you sputter, still recovering from incredible high- the type of orgasm that the little toy in your nighstand or your fingers could never give you, “-you fucker.”

he sits back on the bed, pulling down your skirt and helping you up to sit, his hands sturdy as a brick wall holding you up while your legs still solidify. as viciously as he ate you out mere minutes ago, he was back to being himself, sweet, nerdy, kind ray. helpful as ever. 

“can i take you out tomorrow?” he asks, his thumb stroking yours, like he’s afraid he’ll break you. 

you kiss his neck and then his jaw, smiling up at him, “just text me the address.”

#writers #fanfiction #music #mcr fic #my chemical ray #mychemfic #my chemical fucking romance #my chemical romance fic #my chem romance #mcr fanfiction #my chemical romance #my chemical romance fanfiction #mcrfanfic #mcrfic #ray toro/you #ray toro x reader #ray toro #ray toro/reader #ftm reader #trans reader #ftm #gerard way #mikey way #frank iero #pete wentz #fanfic

[201-klz-dead]

she went down to by the pit <33 low quality pictures my beloved

#i took so many pictures help #but she was so pretty #he was headbangin #i love her #i really enjoyed that show #ray toro #raymond #mcrmy #my chemical romance #my chem #if it helps you see #ray is by the speaker with the X on it #love em #raymog

[milquetoad]

do you guys think gerard has ever drawn his and the guys dnd pcs

#this is a rhetorical question bc i know that he has I know it for a fact #in my heart #this came from me looking at a picture of an old flail and i started thinking abt what kind of weapon class ray would use. obviously #i believe wholeheartedly that he either plays two handed weapons or pcs that don’t do combat whatsoever #ray toro peace domain cleric truthing on the dash tonight (voice of a guy who plays a peace domain cleric) #you can’t stop be dnd x mcr posting the vatican has already tried and now they’re down two cardinals