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eviebuggg · 1 month

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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 :)

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eviebuggg · 2 months

Text

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!

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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.

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