#Billie Joe Armstrong x reader

[shinyrhinestones]

Youthful Hearts

Part one

Series summary: Readers new around town, and therefore doesnt know the place or people. However, she ends up befriending the most chaotic people she could find.

Warnings: Idk let me know if u spot any. (Also this isn’t historically correct bc i want it my way ig).

Pairing: Billie Joe X Fem!Reader

A/N: Alright so I’m bored and I’m gonna apparently explore different fandoms, cause heres a Billie Joe fic. However I lowkey dont know where to go with this fic so I’ll only post this part for now, and to my surprise there isn’t a lot of fics within this fandom..

——

On a regular day at the week you found yourself in a whole new place. You were actually here for studying, but it was gonna be a long year if you didn’t make any friends or connections at all. Now, making new friends isn’t all that easy, which is why at first you settled with s cat. A male cat who would keep you company. He was cuddly, but also took care of himself, like all cats pretty much do.

But at one point you had to face the fact that you didn’t do well without social contact. Yes, you still called back home, not only to your family but also friends. But who would be there for you when you hung up? Exept for your cat of course.

You really didn’t know how to meet new people. What kind of communities were there in your area? And how did you join?

For being a 21 year old, on your own in a new place, you really hoped that there was communities for your age. And interests. One to mention could be music. Music means a lot to many people, including you.

You pondered and wondered but you just physically couldn’t come up with anything. So you gave up.

A week later, walking down a street you weren’t familiar with. You were on your way home, and unfortunately couldn’t go the way you always did, when coming home from a long day at your school. You weren’t all to familiar with your surroundings yet, and therefore mostly only felt safe walking the known path, you had to walk pretty much every day.

But this time you were stressed out because the path you always walk, was unfortunately closed down. In a sense that an accident had happened, down that specific street. Ambulances and police cars parked down that street, with flashing lights everywhere. You knew you couldn’t just find your way around, but you tried walking down other Streets to see if anything was looking familiar.

But you only got more stressed as you felt completely lost. Your mind was racing with a thousands thoughts at once. What was gonna happen now? You were starting to get sweaty under your jacket, which was even more frustrating cause it was already hot outside. You wore a dark coloured summer jacket, cause every now and then the summer breeze would hit, in such a relieving way. But instead of standing and not knowing what to do you kept walking around. Walking down a street where you a bunch young people hanging around. It was little funny, so hang on here.

By a pair of stairs, leading down into what normally would look like a shop. But you could tell this wasn’t a shop. A few youths sitting or standing by the stairs, chilling. Most of them with a cigarette in between their fingers.

You hesitated walking down the street, because not only did this look like a closed off space, but you weren’t that well around people your age. Why? Not sure, but maybe its the way its so easy to get wronged by people you thought would understand you.

At first you thought you’d just walk past them, but what if you had to go past them again, cause you walked in the wrong direction, like you’ve been doing for some time now. Your stomach churned.

You then decided to go up and ask them for directions, since it was probably what you should’ve done for so long now.

You probably looked extremely nervous walking up to them by the way your lips curved into an awkward smile, and your slightly shaky voice.

“Uhm..Hello. I’m new around here and I seem to be a little lost..” You were trying to explain your situation as you were facing completely new humans. From what you could tell they were all men. It only made you more nervous to talk to them, as you also took in completely new appearences.

Most of them had unnatural hair colours. Blue and green. Tattoos and piercings. By a first impression, you’d think they were open-minded. And you tried to calm yourself with that. Maybe they wouldn’t judge you, like you always worried would happen anyways.

You felt like they had such an intense gaze but when a stranger approaches you, that will probably be an outcome.

“Yeah so, this is the street I’m headed.” You pulled out a piece of paper from your pocket. A piece of paper you had kept on you ever since you moved in, because of the fear of exactly this scenario.

One of the guys with with a tatto on his arm, and an earring hanging from his earlobe tried to reach out for it before one the others snatched it out of your grip. You took a look at the guy who tried, but failed. His hair was dark but not black. Quite lighter actually. And he was probably the tallest one, but you couldn’t exactly tell when most of them were sitting down. His face had a few sharp features. Like the shape of his face was sharp and somewhat bony. He had a long nose and a long face in general. His hair was messy.

He gave the other nameless guy a look, which you couldn’t read. You figured it was just normal teasing among friends.

The man holding and reading the piece of paper, was the one sitting on the top step of the stairs. His hair was blue, a quite bright one.

He read it, as the other ones let their eyes get a glimpse of the writing. He stood up and you could tell that he was definitely shorter than the other one. Now you got a better look at his face. His eyebrows were a bit long and black. His face oval and his eyes were green. But you noticed how he had small dark circles under his eyes, and you yourself knew what that was like. He probably didn’t get that much sleep, and if he did it wasn’t enjoyable.

He started explaining the directions for you but you could barely keep up. You had never been good at directions, or finding your way around. You really tried to understand, and you didn’t wanna make a fool of yourself.

You felt like giving up and just letting yourself wander around for hours again. But what good would that do? When he was done explaining he was looking at you. His eyes squinted from the suns rays. Which made a Line appear between his eyebrows, and a subtle scrunched nose. You gave him an awkward smile and shrugged. “Thank you for the help.” You said, but he could sense the insecurity beaming out of you.

“Alright, come here.” He walked down to the end of the street as you followed behind. When he reached the corner, he started pointing to a bunch of directions while explaining. You were finally understanding, and he gave you back the piece of paper. “No problem.” He replied after you thanked him a second time. He kept standing for a moment by the end of the street, watching you for a few seconds as you made your way home. He turned away, and walked back to where he came from.

His friends had been joking around, and sounds of laughter escaped the young men. He sat down by stairs again, as one of his friends shoved him. “Should’ve asked for her nummer while you were at it.” A goofy tone echoed in his friends voice.

“Yeah, you snapped that piece of paper so quickly, I didn’t stand a chance.” His other friend joked along.

The blue haired guy shook his head, and reached for his friends cigarette box. “Hey!” He exclaimed in protest, but didn’t snatch it back. “You owe me now.” He gave a faint smile, and lit the cigarette with a black lighter.

For you, you couldn’t shake off the fact that this was the longest and most helpful conversation you had had in your everyday life outside of school yet. Not only that, but they were interesting guys. They looked different and probably on purpose. And to be honest they were interesting to you. What a bummer this is how it went.

—-

if anyone is actually interested and wants a part more let me know (: also there’s probably spelling mistakes sorry! English is not my first language guys. I’ll probably right one anyway but at the same time i would need something to be motivated for like be fr.

You can find the other parts here

[elvis-presleys-stuff]

I finding fanfic has gotten so bad lately I've had to go back to wattpad 😨

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine the moment Billie-Joe realizes he doesn’t want you to leave his side.

Billie smiled at the crowd and looked over towards the VIP section where you were standing. You were close to the stage, but having the ability to see the band every night, you had moved back a bit to let the others be closer. Once more, he was struck by how kind hearted you really were.

As he watched you smile back, his body visibly became more calm. His grip on the guitar slipped and he let it hang from the strap around his shoulder. There was no tenseness anywhere - all because he could see you and see the smile that was on your face. Something that he wanted to see forever.

It seemed like time had slowed down. You two have been together for a couple of months. It grew serious, Billie Joe was getting older and didn’t have time to waste playing the dating game. But it was in this very moment right here that he realized how much he loved you.

But the show must go on. He sent a wink in your direction, started to pluck a couple of strings to make the crowd loud enough to bring back his adrenaline and started to play. He couldn’t wait to get back to you and tell you that he was now extremely sure of how he felt, and that he wanted you by his side now at every show. VIP was too far away.

[astoriawritings]

Dating Billie Joe Armstrong headcanons

Set in '94, but if you ignore some parts, it can very well apply to any era.

Requested by @coconutmilkenthusiat. Sorry it took so long and sorry if it didn't meet your expectations!

Billie wrote songs about you before you two got together and never really told you which songs were about you.

He still likes surprising you with songs, even if it is simple guitar riffs.

It's not that often, but you go on gigs with the band.

However, when you don't he tries to call you every evening.

He LOVES cuddling and wraps his body around you; even when it is super hot and it is the last thing you want, you still find yourself in his arms.

He is sarcastic and snappy when mad.

Really, he doesn't mean it, but it happens.

Irresponsible. Maybe way too much. It is a reason for band arguments and arguments between you two.

You live separately. You have your own apartment and he has a basement in a house down the street where he does band practices with Tre and Mike.

He often sleeps at yours though.

You have a strict no-smoking-inside policy, whether you smoke or not, because of your landlord and yet Billie still smokes inside which makes you want to behead him!

He isn't the type to go to parties so if you are, you drag him there.

However, that was until he got so drunk and pissed in your closet. Since then it is if he decides to tag along or not.

He doesn't like parties, you don't like trouble.

And his middle name shouldn't be Joe, it should be Trouble.

No, scrap that, it shouldn't be Billie Joe Armstrong, it should be just Trouble Trouble Trouble.

He takes you out with his buddies to different smoking hotspots; half of the graffiti in Rodeo are his(and yours, at this point) company's; they sometimes break in cars and drive them down a few blocks then ditch them; and that's only a little bit of the shit they do.

Soon enough it became fun for you. The fear of police is exciting you have to admit.

Christie Road is one of his favourite places and you love watching the sunset whilst laying on the hood of his car.

You love going to the movies together.

Drive-in cinemas are his favourite and it gives a more intimate setting.

In public, he's reserved and quiet which led to you not knowing exactly what you were getting into when you started dating.

He loves kissing your hands.

His lips aren't the softest in the world, but you love them.

My Masterlist!

[myveryownfanfiction]

"(Y/n)?" I looked up from my laptop to see Billie standing in the doorway. "Huh?" I asked as I went back to the homework that lay before me. It was taking a hell of a lot longer than I thought it was going to. I ran a hand through my hair and tried to read the words on the page and make some notes. "Come to bed." Billies voice was soft and tired. I glanced up at him as he pushed up his glasses and shook my head. "Gotta finish." I said as I tried to stifle a yawn. "It's not due until Wednesday. It's late. Leave it til tomorrow. Come to bed." He said as he shuffled closer to me. I shook my head again. "Almost done." I said. Billies head hit my shoulder and I looked over at him. He was having trouble staying awake. "Let me finish this chapter." He nodded sleepily. "How much more?" He asked through a yawn. "Couple more pages." I said as I leaned my head against his. He nodded again and I tried to finish as quickly as I could. I finally finished and closed the book. I left everything where it was and gently pushed Billie off my shoulder. He stood up and offered me his hand. I took it and hugged his arm. We made our way to bed. "Finally." Billie mumbled as he collapsed onto the bed and curled up under the blankets. I slid his glasses off and put them on the nightstand and got into bed with him. "Finally." I mumbled back. Billie put his arm across my waist and pulled me close to him. I tucked my head under his chin and let out a yawn. It wasn't long before we drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

[just1riqht]

where’s the Tre Cool fanfiction

[alien-4-life]

i spent an hour on this,better be worth it

(The guy is Billie joe Armstrong) AM SO BAD AT DRAWING I DONT REMEMBER THE LAST TIME I DREW DIGITALLY SO THIS IS MY FIRST TIME IN MONTHS MAYBE A YEAR🙏

[kimhargreeves]

Fell For You-Billie Joe Armstrong

"Goodnight San Francisco!"

My best friend Billie shouted at the crowd after leaving the stage and smiling over at me,Mike and Tre exchanged looks and smirked.I wonder what those two idiots are up to.I walk over to where the three of them are standing and see Billie putting his favorite guitar Blue on his case.

"You did great Billie." I tell him.

Billie replies with a smile and after that he asks me a question, "(Y/N) ..I know i've been busy for these couple of months and you've been with us all this time..What i wanna ask you is..would you want to have dinner with me tonight after i head back on tour?"

Billie stood in front of me and i couldn't say no to those beautiful green eyes and black messy hair ahh! Why does he have to be so perfect.He's always been there for me when i most need him and i've listened to them ever since they became a band.

"Yeah..o-okay." I replied as i blushed.Billie nodded his head and heads over to the showers when Mike and Tré walk over to me with them both grinning from ear to ear.

"Ho ho looks like someone got a date." Mike teases.

"What no! We're just getting to know each other more-"

"As if you don't know each other well already." Tré says.

"Our little girl is already growing up." Mike fake cries as Tré hugs him.

"Haha very mature." I reply and walk away trying to find my best outfit to wear,what should i wear? Something cute,fancy,punk or casual? I decide to wear something casual a nice dark purple dress with a black cardigan and my flats. As i get ready i begin to listen to their newest album and i hear a knock on my door.

I walk out and meet face to face with Billie he's wearing his black ripped jeans and dark blue shirt, "You look nice." I blush and compliment him. We make our way into a fancy restaurant not caring if people stare at us at the outfit we chose,we begin to talk to each other as we wait out meals and i hear a nearby bush move.

"So..(Y/N)..i've been meaning to tell you something important."

He says and rests both his hand on top of the table,again the bush moves and we both look over to it confused. Billie rolls his eyes and looks at me again, "Ever since you began to go on tour with us i've..had feelings for you."

My heart pounds faster and i was about to reply when my phone buzzzed and saw a text.

Hope you're having fun ;)

Bille and (Y/N) sitting in a tree

I roll my eyes and shove my phone in my pocket, "Is everything alright?" Billie asks concerned

"Y-yeah! So you were saying?"

"I like you..more than just a friend..i fell for you."

Billie smiles and stands up and stood beside me and helped me up, "Do you feel the same?" I could only nod my head and blushed even more if possible when Billie leaned down and kissed my lips. I deepened the kiss until a bright light came and we both parted and we heard voices.

"Damn it Tré you didnt turn of the flash?!"

"I thought you did it." Tré responds.

"What the fuck are two morons doing?" Billie glares at them.

"We wanted to see how (Y/N) reacted to your confessions dude."

"Yeah you can't blame us.come on don't stop kissing."

I blushed and hid my face from the guys as Billie pats my shoulder.

"See i told you they would kiss tonight..you owe me 50 bucks dude." Mike says.

[greenday-artsy-1312]

IMAGINE BILLIE JOE SMILING AT YOU

Imagine- You were hanging out with Billie and were talking about how you day had been going and then you noticed that he was staring at you

Y/N : Billie are you okay?

Billie : Yeah... Just thinking *gif*

You shrugged it off and keep talking about your day while he was staring at you lovingly

[BTW I am sorry for the grammatical mistakes if I did any english is not my maternal language so hope it's okay.]

[hiddenreamers]

I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.

[internetgremlin-writes]

Of Punks And Nerds

YAAAAS I got my first request! This one is for @frizzy2ne1 who requested a Billie Joe Armstrong imagine.

Prompt/Summary: Requested - High School era Green Day. You are a high achieving student with an unfortunate crush on your delinquent homeroom classmate

Pairing: Billie Joe Armstrong x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drugs/underage drinking

Word Count: 3933

I don’t know when it got so bad, but then again you never really do. Heck, I don’t even remember when it all started. I sigh and stare out of the window, a million thoughts a second racing through my mind, mostly of him. I scold myself: I need to stop thinking about him so much, but I can’t help it. He’s become everything to me, and yet I don’t even exist to him. I’m vaguely aware of my best friend, Lindsey, whispering my name, but I decide she can wait, my daydream taking priority over mindless gossip.

A sharp elbow to the ribs makes me flinch and I shoot a dirty look at Lindsey. “Fran,” she hisses again. I blink a few times and readjust from my sulky daydream to miserable reality. “What?” I hiss back. “Frances?” Mrs Peterson calls from the front of the room. “Yes, Miss?” “Are you present today?” “Oh, er yes,” I mumble, the blush must be obvious on my face judging by the fact that my ears feel like they’re on fire. My voice is a mere squeak, embarrassment eating me alive as I shrink back into my seat.

I’m too afraid to look over at him, I don’t want to see him laughing at me with everyone else, even if it is a sign that he knows I exist. Lindsey sends me a look that says “Sorry, I tried to warn you,” I shrug and chance a glance over at him. Typical, this would happen on one of the rare days that he decides to show up, but my panic is calmed. He’s not looking at me, he didn’t even giggle with everyone else. His eyes are wide and glazed over, and he’s staring blankly at the ceiling. A small smile flickers across my face and again I curse myself. I can’t be this obsessed with someone like him. Lindsey catches my look and smirks at me, wiggling her eyebrows and winking for effect. I flip her the bird under the desk.

Technically, this is all Lindsey’s fault. At one of her sleepovers a few months back we had been up late and giggly on wine coolers and were discussing boyfriends, or in my case lack thereof. Like a lion with a piece of meat she refused to let the subject go, determined to find out who I was crushing on and like any best friend she refused to take no for an answer. With help from the others and lots of probing and pushing she had managed to extract my “type”, which in all honesty I didn’t really know and so to keep the beast at bay I began randomly listing features.

“Billie Joe Armstrong,” she said with a triumphant smile, leaving me to snort loudly into my drink. “W-what?” I spluttered, cooler running down my face. “You described Billie Joe,” “I most certainly did not,” I snapped venomously and told her exactly where Billie Joe could go. That boy is nothing but trouble, he’s been in my homeroom since freshman year at Pinole Valley and on the rare occasions that he feels like showing up (and even rarer on time) he’s either stoned, hung over or just plain rude. He’s got a gang of friends that dress like he does - skinny jeans that shouldn’t be so tight, beat up Chuck Taylor’s, flannels and shirts with bands on them or other vulgar symbols. He is loud and obnoxious, you’d hear his laugh from a mile away and his voice is very distinctive being slightly more southern than most Californian scents. Billie Joe Armstrong is the type of kid who thinks he’s above teachers, and he makes sure that the teachers know it.

Because Lindsey had mentioned it, the following Monday I kept a watchful eye for him, and on Tuesday and Wednesday when he didn’t show up. On Thursday he strolled in twenty minutes late without so much as acknowledging Mrs Peterson, whose face was growing red as she scribbled out a detention slip. Billie Joe had thrown himself into his seat at the back of the room and was lounging with his feet up as if he owned the place. “Mr Armstrong, feet off the desk please,” he had stared at her with the same interest that one would give a dead fly. “Bite me,” Peterson’s face was a picture as she stormed over, batted his feet with a rolled up newspaper and slammed two detention slips on the desk. He picked them up, the look on his face amused and careful, maintaining eye contact with her as he very pointedly ripped the slips to shreds. “That’s it! Get out!” She flipped and Billie Joe stood up, knocking the chair over and sauntered out of the class, hands stuffed into his pockets. “My pleasure,” he grinned.

He didn’t show up the next week.

Unfortunately, that only piqued my newfound interest in the delinquent. Over the next few weeks I started to notice things about him, the fact that his hair was out of control but it totally suited him, the reddish brown colouring looking unacceptably good, how those skinny jeans made his legs look like heaven, how he wasn’t particularly tall but still had all the airs and graces of a ringleader, how his teeth were crooked but his smile was still dazzling, the fact that he was stoned a lot was suddenly funny rather than disgusting, his bad attitude and habits became endearing, how his shirt always hung off him in a way that only made me desperate to know what’s underneath.

Before I knew it my school days were spent scanning the corridors for any sign of him, heartbeat wildly out of control with anticipation waiting for him to walk through the door, stomach flipping somersaults every time I did see him. It was ridiculous, getting this silly over a boy, and a delinquent one at that, but here I am nauseas and more nervous than usual and desperate not to make a fool out of myself in front of him. Fortunately, we don’t share any classes otherwise I would never be able to concentrate, and if I want to stay on track for Valedictorian at the end of the year I need to.

I stumble through the rest of the week, as usual barely seeing Billie Joe and feeling like an idiot when I do. I always seem to see him when I’m doing something embarrassing like readjusting my clothes, fighting with books in my locker, tripping over my own feet or just leaving the bathrooms. At least he never looks at me, otherwise I think I would die. “Frances?” “Huh?” “Seriously you have to stop zoning out so much. It’s not healthy man,” Lindsey tells me off on Friday. I glance up from where I was idly twisting my pasta, if that’s what you could call it, thoughts on the group sat across the cafeteria as per usual. “Sorry, what’re we talking about?” I looked up, pushing my glasses back up my nose with a guilty grin. Lindsey rolls her eyes in good nature. “Party, tonight?” I titter nervously and fiddle with the hem of my shirt, a bad nervous habit. “Uh, I don’t think so. I have a shit ton of homework,” “We all do,” one of my close friends, Jessica, pipes in. “C'mon, Fran, one night won’t kill you,” Sarah adds from where she’s sat beside me. “I, I’m really not sure, you know I’m not the party type guys,”

Lindsey’s eyes flicker across the cafeteria as a loud guffaw and various whoops and shouts echo through the room. The table that had just erupted seats Billie Joe and his friends, and apparently one of them had cracked a well approved joke because they’re in uproar, fists banging on the table and hyena noises filling the large space. Billie Joe’s laugh hits me and I fight the smile on my face, his laugh makes me happy, even when it’s at someone else’s expense which judging by the minuscule freshman who’s stood picking his lunch off his shirt, it is. “His band is playing,” Lindsey says to me, distracting my attention away from the scene back to the conversation. “Oh?” I feign polite interest. In reality my pulse rate has just gone through the roof, I can feel the butterflies beginning to build up in my stomach and already my mind is working on all of the best-case-scenarios of Billie Joe and I at a party. “So, you coming?” I don’t want to seem too keen, as far as Lindsey and the girls are concerned, my crush on Billie Joe Armstrong was invented by them and is nothing more than a funny joke that they like to wind me up about. I refuse to let them know that he’s wound his way into my head and is seemingly not leaving any time soon. “I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it,” I offer, before gathering my books and heading off early to double history.

I convince myself to forget about Billie Joe and the party, knowing already what a bad idea it is, and instead drive myself home in my ancient car and focus on actually getting some work done this evening. Or at least, I try to until less than two hours after I arrived home, Lindsey and the group are walking into my room with various bags in their arms. “Guys?” I ask “We’re getting ready here, going to the party and then sleeping over at yours,” Lindsey states casually, throwing her stuff down on my bed as if she had been planning this for weeks. “I’m not going to the party,” I remind her. “You said you’d ‘think about it’ that’s a yes,” Jess pipes up.

Lindsey wants to play makeovers, but I’m not in the mood. I don’t really want to go to the party in the first place let alone allow the girls to make me up like a clown first. I throw on a pair of shorts with a white top and a flannel. It’s fairly warm so I don’t bother with pantyhose or hoodies, I fish out a pair of white pumps which I decide will do. Lindsey manages to wrestle me into a chair and make me sit still long enough for her to shove a necklace around me, neaten up the loose curls in my hair and smudge some eye makeup on. After what feels like forever of watching everyone change their outfit god knows how many times, we finally leave and head out. I offer to drive, but Lindsey insists we walk so we can all have a drink.

When we get there I instantly feel sick, this isn’t the usual kind of party I get dragged along to. The parties Lindsey usually goes to are held by the rich kids, they’re usually in Berkeley or Pinole or anywhere outside of Rodeo, where I live, they’re held in big houses with big driveways and no neighbours near enough to worry about. Tonight we’re in deep Rodeo. The place is a small family home, the front yard is scruffy and littered with kids toys and beer cans already, the music is so loud the sidewalk is pulsing and it looks like it might fall down any second. I’m instantly glad I ducked out of Makeovers 101 because the group look very overdressed.

Never losing her smile, Lindsey waltzes in and immediately is greeted by a big burly guy with a mohawk. “Hey guys, this is John, it’s his place,” Lindsey introduces us briefly and I smile tightly at him. I have no idea how Lindsey knows a guy like John, she’s very sociable but we all tend to avoid the punks. It’s not too bad though, most of the senior year is here so I know nearly everyone, although there are definitely a lot more punks here, so I’m guessing it was one of Billie Joe’s gang who’s throwing this thing. I notice that there are also people here who look a lot older than me, but I try not to let it bother me.

“AW FUCK! Alright who wants to hear some real music!?” A rough voice rings out loud and clear after a second of shrill white noise as the microphone attaches to the amp. There’s a cheer and a lot of shouting and suddenly a furious guitar begins followed by equally enthusiastic drums, bass and vocals. If the house seemed to be pulsing from the radio music, this live stuff was making the place shake to the point of near collapse. I snort a laugh to myself and turn to tell Lindsey, but notice that I am alone.

On instinct I walk away from the loud music, although you can hear it clearly from any room in the house. I stumble across the kitchen which has been transformed into a self-service bar and spot the rest of my group already chugging something a lot stronger than wine coolers. Trying not to be a pooper and ruin the mood, I make myself a spritzer and cradle it pathetically. The music changes slightly from furious to more upbeat and I can feel my body thrumming with it. Whoever the band was, they were great. Lindsey catches my eye from where I’m floating on the periphery and I motion that I’m going to the music.

Following the sound is very easy, and I end up in a basement. Thinking ahead, I down the spritzer before descending the narrow staircase, it wouldn’t be great to spill my drink all down myself at eighteen years old. The first thing I smell is sweat and booze. The band are barely visible at one end of the room, while the rest is a mosh pit which is majority punks. I give in to all my inhibitions and let my sudden adoration for this music to control me as I dive into the pit. The band sound great, you can’t understand most of the lyrics to the songs, but it doesn’t matter, the singer shouts enough to get the general meaning of each song across. Everything is ferocious and energetic and I wonder why I haven’t ever listened to this style before, I feel great. I don’t even mind that I’m being virtually crushed by guys three times my size, I’ve worked out that it’s easiest to move with them, pushing and jumping in a large circle that takes up most of the room. If you try to stand still you’ll get crushed. I wonder briefly if this is Billie Joe’s band that are playing, but I discard the idea. This band is too good to be a high school band, they’re talented and electrifying and clearly professionals, that John guy has probably booked them especially. All too soon the set finishes up and the band draw to a close. Everybody stops moshing and aside from being drenched in sweat, heads back upstairs as if nothing had happened. Considering that I’ve never done anything like that before, I’m not so adept at recovering and instead let the crowd wash over me as I stand hunched over and gasping for air. Eventually the room clears out and I can feel the fresh air from the open windows beginning to infiltrate the hot, recycled air.

I’m not really aware of the fact that it’s just the band and I in the room until there’s a gentle tap on my shoulder. “Frances?” I spin round to stop, face to face with green eyes. Instinctively I push my glasses up my nose. “Here, thought you could use it,” the person says and I feel a sudden cool relief. I look down to see that he’s pushed a bottle of ice cold water into my hand. I snap the lid of and down the contents immediately, the liquid soothing the burn in my throat and brining my temperature back down a little. “Yeah, thanks,” I gasp once I was done. The guy gives me a low chuckle in return. In the dim lights I take a second to actually get a look at the guy. Looking over his shoulder I can see someone disassembling the drum kit and someone else packing away the guitars, so I guess that this is the lead singer. I have to admit, he’s very cute, with his sparkling green eyes and messy hair that’s fairly short, but long enough to run your hands through and bleach blonde. He’s got a sweet but cheeky smile, and his skin is dewy and flushed from playing which makes him glow. Even his sweaty clothes that are hanging off his body and make him gorgeous. “Wait,” my tired brain catches up. “How do you know my name?” I question, certain that I’ve never seen him around before. If I had then I would definitely be obsessing about this guy, not stupid Billie Joe. “Uh, Frances, we have homeroom together every morning,” he says in the kind of voice you use when you’re talking to someone very slow. My eyes rake shamelessly over his body again, trying to pick out a feature I would remember. I know that I’m a daydreamer and spend a lot of my time zoned out, but I thought I knew everyone in homeroom pretty well. I frown a little and tilt my head, as if it will help, and slowly it starts to dawn on me. That figure, those eyes, that smile. “Oh my god, Billie Joe!” I gasp and his rich laugh echoes across the small basement. “You didn’t recognise me? I’m offended,” he pouts and suddenly my face feels like I’m sat next to a fire and I want the ground to swallow me whole. I can’t believe I didn’t even recognise him. “And for fuck’s sake please, it’s just Billie, or BJ. I’m only called Billie Joe when I’m in trouble,” he adds as I’m still stood, eyes now fixated on the floor.

“You, er, you changed your hair,” I offer meekly. For the second time in a minute his laugh bounces off the walls. “I guess I did. It needed cutting ages ago,” he mimes his old big hair and I find myself tentatively laughing with him. “I like it. I mean, it er, suits you. Your new hair I mean. Blonde looks, yeah, I like you blonde,” I stutter my compliment awfully, but it seems to have the desired effect because Billie runs a hand through it and shrugs, muttering a thanks to the floor. I want to die, I want to die, I want to die my mind is screeching at means begging to get the hell away and never show my face near him again, but I can’t seem to make my body move. “Good, uh, I’m glad you like it y'know,” I smile shyly, but my brain is mush. I can’t seem to comprehend anything other than the fact that he knew my name and was voluntarily talking to me.

“Your band is very good,” I blurt before thinking about what I’m saying. My brain has definitely turned itself off. “Thanks,” he responds with a lopsided grin, his teeth flashing in the dim lights. “I’m really glad you made it, y'know,” Billie’s voice is completely different to the one he used on stage, it’s soft now, and almost sweet. My whole system seems to have gone into shut down and I can’t seem to control anything. “Really? Me?” I pull a face. “Yeah, you. That’s why I got John to throw this thing, because he’s friends with Lindsey and I hoped she’d drag you along,” Billie is rubbing the back of his neck, and staring at the floor as he speaks. I can’t understand what he’s saying, my mind is in total whiteout and I’m not processing a thing. “I’m sorry, I’m not follow-”

I’m cut off as Billie steps towards me, his arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me into his body, one hand cupping my face as he pushes his lips against mine. Instantly my knees go weak and I melt into him, arms wrapping around his neck on instinct, pressing back against the soft heat. He moves his mouth slightly and I follow suit. The world could be sucked into a black hole and I wouldn’t notice right now, the current situation completely overwhelming my senses, the musky scent of boy and sweat combing in the most delicious way, my eyes are closed but Billie’s image is burnt into my brain, his skin is on fire under my hands and smooth to the touch, the soft tendrils of his hair begging for me to run my hands through it, the thumping sound of the party above us is all but white noise and all I can taste is his mouth on mine, the both of us taste faintly of alcohol and something personal that only makes me crave him more.

As soon as I feel his tongue, hot and wet and just as wonderful as the rest of him, I pull back slightly. Although this isn’t my first kiss (it’s most definitely my best one) I’m not one to full on make out with a guy I’ve barely spoken to before, crush or not. “Billie,” I begin, my voice small and breathy as I slowly drag my hands off him, much to my distaste. “Frances,” he responds in the same hushed tone, then something snaps in his eyes. “Fuck, Frances I’m so sorry,” he gasps and immediately my stomach falls through the floor. “I didn’t mean to do that to you, well I did, but y'know not yet anyway, but fuck you just look so good and oh god I’ve fucked up,” he groans, words blending into each other as he buries his head in his hands. “Don’t be sorry,” I say as I peel his hands away from his face, immediately getting lost in his eyes. In the light they’re a dark green shade in a small ring around hugely dilated pupils that make him look almost puppy-like. “You’re not mad?” “No,” I almost whisper. A small smile makes its way back onto Billie’s face. “Good, because I know this is fucking stupid and we’ve literally never spoken before, but I can’t help but notice you and everything about you and fuck labels and cliques and all that shit, do you wanna hang out sometime?” The grin on my face must be huge, but I try to remain reserved. “Depends what you mean by hang out,” I challenge. “Fuck, I dunno. Whatever you wanna do, go to the movies, the diner, Gilman Street - that’s the music club - fuck even the mall if you wanna, my house to listen to records? I don’t fucking care,” he rambles.

“All of the above,” I murmur, my voice only loud enough for him to hear. Billie closes the small gap between us by gently grabbing my face and planting a chaste kiss on my lips, before interlocking our hands. “C’mon, don’t wanna miss the rest of this shit thing. If we’re lucky they’ll just be starting seven minutes in heaven,” and with a cheeky smirk he pulls me back up the basement stairs to join the rest of the party, my mood beyond elevated.

———–

Read more of my work here: Masterlist

There ya go! I really hope you enjoyed it, please feel free to send feedback!

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Rage and Love, Le Gremlin :)

[guppyyurii]

recording while im hittin' it

★ warnings ; thigh riding, usage of slut, cheating, strap usage, dom ! billie x cheater ! bottom ! reader, recording sex

★ an ; Hi this is for nay :) @billiesmainwife

its ten o'clock and your girlfriend is waiting for you at the door, hoping you'd come home tonight. she knows you might be out with someone but she only cares that you come home safe, you softly unlocked the door and put your keys on the rack "where have you been y/n?" you freeze and turn around slowly "i thoug—" she bangs her hand on the table and runs her fingers through her hair "answer my fucking question"

"i was out with keria." you look down and she walks over to you "does she do it better than me?" you look at her confused "wha—" billie pushes you back against the counter "does she do it better?" she looks at you, the sadness filling her eyes and rushing through her veins the feeling of your not loving her is overwhelming and overbearing "no baby, what are you talking about? me and ria don't fuck i promise." you cup her cheek and she pulls you in close

"are you sure about that?" she looks at you with those soft blue eyes, the ones that guilt trip you into saying anything "we kissed." you whisper, loud enough for her to hear you. "right."

she kisses your neck all over and pulls the sleeves of your shirt down "let me show you, no one will ever do it better than me mama." she pulls you upstairs and opens the door to your shared bedroom, the tension is thick as she closes the door behind her, billie sits down on the edge of the bed and looks at you with the light blue of her eyes glistening with the warmth of the light above you both. "ride my thigh." you had no choice, you walk over and sit on her thigh, her legs are covered with her pants so its a bit uncomfortable when you sit down

"start slow baby" she says softly and puts her hands on both sides of your waist and moves you slowly, teasing you. a quiet moan slips from your lips "you like that?" she looks you in the eyes and smiles, you try and speak but all that comes out are struggled moans. "mm, good mama. go faster." you obey and start speeding up, the coil in your stomach forms slowly. the wetness coats your underwear, she lifts your head up so you can look her in the eyes

billie pulls her phone out her pocket and looks at me, "i'm gonna record this and send it to keria, when she gets the video you're gonna block her and never fucking speak to her again, do you understand me?" you nod your head and she sets the phone up, and starts recording. you lay your head on her shoulder and whimper loudly, you've been riding for too long its starting to get harder to move

"such a big mess you're making." you slow down and look at her, she slaps your thigh and shakes her head "i didn't tell you to slow down, now did i?" you whine and go back to the pace you were just at, the coil gets more and more hot in your body and you start speaking with a shaky, slurry voice "i cant hold it" she moves your hips slower, making you groan in frustration "now you can hold it." you look at her with teary eyes and whine loudly, laying your head on her shoulder

the feeling in your stomach pops and everything spills out, all over you and her pants "oh baby look at the mess you made, such a bad girl. you need a punishment, lay on your back and wait for me" you stand up and lay on the bed, waiting for billie to come back. when billie walks in she comes back with the strap you hate, the 8 inch one that's too thick. "i know you hate this one baby, that's the point" she slips it in with no warning and your hands grip the sheets tightly, your mouth drops open and everything goes blurry

she moves in and out slowly, stretching you out, making the hole tear a little bit "so fucking tight, its hard to push." she growls lowly and starts pushing in a little faster, everything starts blurring and you cough and choke up tears. you try and spit out what you're about to say but you cant think straight, shes practically fucking you dumb and you cant do anything about it. "helpless little slut. look at you." she turns you to be on your back and slaps your ass hard, leaving a sting behind. no words can explain how much you cant think.

she starts thrusting hard and the coil forms again, she whispers in your ear "dont come until i say so mama." she rubs your waist and starts going harder than before, making you grip the sheets and tears pool out your eyes, she speaks again "cum. now slut, before i change my mind" you cum hard, practically almost squirting all over her legs

she pulls the strap out and immediately slides two digits in, your hole is already throbbing and she's making it even worse than before. every time she pumps in it stings and you try to pull away but she just doesn't stop. she holds your waist down in place, making it even harder to squirm away. you finally come for the 3rd time tonight and she wipes your face

"next time, don't act stupid" she turns the video off and kisses you all the way up your back "such a good girl f'me, taking something you know you cant handle. you did s'good." she leaves light kisses and hickeys spelling the a letter 'b' as if shes marking her own territory "you're my sweet girl, my girl, all mine." she mumbles and rubs the side of your waist

"4 minutes and 45 seconds, im so quick. she could never."

[elvis-presleys-stuff]

So I wanna start writing fanfiction again but idk what to write... HELP ME!!!

🫶

[ilongfor-the-arts]

can i request a billie joe Armstrong smut? maybe where reader is a virgin and she’s over it. she manages to talk her way backstage, where she meets him, and he’s happy to help her out??

I Saw You Staring

Pairing: Billie Joe Armstrong x virgin fem! Reader

Warnings: language, smut, unprotected sex, very VERY mild degradation, loss of virginity, oral (f receiving)

Summary: *in request*

Word Count: 5.4k

“Y/N, why do you have to be so negative? It’ll be an interesting experience at the very least!”

I rolled my eyes.

“Why don't you just go by yourself?”

My friend stumbled over to my side of the bed, where she sat on her knees and gave me a scathing look. We have discussed this subject extensively in the past. No matter how many times I questioned her, her response remained the same.

“Because I don’t want to go by myself! Who knows what’ll happen! I need a friend to go with me!”

I just wanted to enjoy the movie. I had no desire to humor my friend by pretending to consider her offer only to turn it down again.

I was sick of this conversation.

“It’s not my fault your date canceled on you! Don’t drag me into this! Go by yourself or don’t go at all!”

I whipped my head around to focus on the movie, doing my best to drown her out. My friend wouldn't give up, though, so she persisted. She was a woman with a mission.

“Oh come onnnnn Y/N! What on earth do you have against Green Day?”

She clung to my arm. I shook her off, annoyed. I never considered myself to be a pessimist, but if she mentioned the Green Day concert just one more time, I might just be tempted to slap her.

“I don’t have anything against Green Day! I just would rather not spend my Friday night being thrown around in a mosh pit while listening to a band I don’t really care for!”

I wouldn’t be able to count on both my fingers how many times I’ve heard about this concert.

“Oh come on, Y/N!”

She exclaimed, beseeching me to give in.

I didn’t cave.

She leaned in close, and the warmth of her breath made me shiver.

“Maybe you’ll find a cute boy.”

I groaned, shoving her off of me. I didn't cast her a sidelong glance. She was more likely to change the subject of the conversation the less she thought I cared.

I shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’ll happen when it happens.”

I made an effort to change the subject. It would be more interesting to talk about my previous relationships than the idiotic Green Day concert.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you died a virgin.”

When I finally met her cunning gaze, I knit my brow.

“What do you mean by that?”

I inquired. My friend shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m just saying it almost feels like you don’t want to do it.”

I scoffed in disbelief.

“What makes you think that?”

My friend sat cross legged on the bed, staring at the television. She was attempting to act casually, as if to broach the subject of relationships without shocking my naive and impressionable mind.

“You’re a pretty young girl with a nice personality, Y/N. If you were really worried about dying a virgin you would’ve bit the bullet and done it with some moderately nice and moderately attractive guy.”

I ran my tongue along my dry bottom lip.

“Well, it's not that I don’t want to do it, I just want my first time to be a memorable experience.”

My friend laughed loudly, piercing the relaxed atmosphere with her chuckle.

“Alright Y/N, whatever you say... But don’t you think you should be a little more experienced for your future prince charming?”

My friend wasn't entirely off base. It certainly wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a few tricks under my belt.

My eyes watched the film but failed to fully process what was being shown on screen as it dragged on.

My stomach flipped.

I could do it.

Nothing was stopping me.

“I mean…”

I bit my bottom lip.

Jesus, she was going to be absolutely floored by what I was about to say.

I've been rebuffing offers to attend her pointless Green Day concert for the past week.

And here I was about to take her up on it just to get some random guy's attention.

“Do you think there will be hot guys at the concert?”

My friend whipped her head around, her eyes beaming with unadulterated delight.

“Yes! Yes, most definitely! Does that mean you’re going?”

I shrugged.

“I guess so.”

My friend sprung upon me, exclaiming incoherent praise about how proud she was of me.

I wasn’t listening.

I was mentally preparing myself for what was to come.

I spun around in front of the large mirror, assessing my outfit.

Was it enticing enough?

It was just a plain black dress. To be fair, it did hug my body beautifully, highlighting all of my curves.

But would it really pique a guy's interest?

Maybe I needed something flashy, something that would stand out for miles. Something that screamed “give me attention!”

No, then it may have the opposite effect.

Should I not wear panties?

I already decided against wearing a bra, as the dress did enough to keep me covered and secure.

If I was in an intimate situation being completely barren under my dress would certainly be a turn on.

But I decided against the idea. I didn’t want to be worried about accidentally flashing someone while searching for a hot date.

“Y/N! How long does it take you to get your ass dressed!”

My friend screamed up the stairs.

Jesus, I suppose this will do.

“I’m coming!”

I yelled back.

-

The concert was completely sold out. The moment I stepped into the crowded auditorium, I felt claustrophobic.

How was I supposed to stand out among hundreds of other people?

My plan suddenly didn't seem so feasible. I began to lose hope as sweaty bodies pressed against me from all sides, the uncomfortableness draining my good spirits.

My friend noticed my sunken face, and quickly attempted to alleviate my sadness.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m sure someone in this crowd is staring at you. You look really hot.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Think this dress is enough?”

My friend scoffed loudly as if I was behaving totally irrationally.

“It’s more than enough! You look fucking gorgeous!”

I smiled, my mentality growing slightly more optimistic.

“Thanks a lot. I’m sure I’ll find someone.”

My friend opened her mouth to speak just as the lights began to dim.

“Oh shit! It’s starting!”

She exclaimed, her gaze refocusing on the barren stage. Everything was quiet for a moment before the deafening sound of an electric guitar shook the walls.

The band members began to come out and…

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Hey! Why didn’t you tell me the leader singer was hot as fuck!”

I shouted to my friend over the din of punk rock music. She had a giant smile on her face, her voice giddy with excitement.

“I don’t know! You didn’t ask! I assumed you wouldn’t be interested!”

I didn’t sing nor did I dance the entire night, despite enjoying many of the songs. I was just staring, gawking, completely taken aback by the gorgeous lead singer.

Thank God we were in the front row.

“What’s his name!”

I screamed. We were right next to the speakers, which made it difficult to communicate.

“What?”

“I said what’s his name!”

My friend chuckled loudly.

“His name is Billie Joe Armstrong!”

The way he moved made me so… wet.

Jesus.

Jesus Christ.

How come the one guy I was interested in just so happened to be the most unattainable man in the entire stadium.

He met my gaze.

Shit!

My heart stopped.

He smirked.

He fucking smirked!

“Did he just smirk at you!”

My friend asked. But I didn’t answer. I was deep within my own mind, already imagining the crazy amount of trouble I’d get into later.

-

I ran through the crowds, looking for one man and one man only. I knew this was crazy, completely crazy. But I’d be so angry with myself if I didn’t at least try.

Two burly, bald security guards stood by the door that led backstage.

Fuck.

This was definitely a problem.

I should just give up and go home.

But I wasn’t about to give up so easily.

I swallowed, taking a deep breath to regain my composure.

“You can do this Y/N.”

I whispered to myself.

I put on my best sexy groupie demeanor and sauntered over to the two men. I hope I looked sexy and not like a total idiot.

“Hey you two.”

The two men stared down at me, their muscles bulging menacingly. I sounded surprisingly calm, my voice didn’t quiver as I spoke.

Thank God.

“Billie’s expecting me. Why don’t you guys move aside for me.”

I flashed them a sly smirk.

Their vision was obstructed by black sunglasses, faces expressionless as they stared down at me with pursed lips.

Shit.

This was going to backfire.

The man on the right pulled out his phone and quickly punched in a few numbers.

The phone looked tiny in his large hands.

Jesus, they could kill me with those fists.

“Hey boss. There’s a girl out here who says you’re expecting her.”

There was a beat of silence.

My heart was beating out of my chest.

I was dead.

I was so fucking dead.

“She’s…”

He looked me up and down.

“She’s wearing a black dress, high top converse.”

Another beat of silence.

“Alright, I’ll send her in.”

No way.

No fucking way.

Sighing deeply, the man slid his phone back into his pocket. He fully expected Billie to direct him to take me away.

“Alright little lady, I’ll let you through.”

I gave him a sensual wink as I ran my tongue over my top teeth.

That seems like something a groupie would do, right?

“Thanks.”

I threw open the door, keeping my cool until it closed and completely obscured me from the men's gaze. I breathed a sigh of relief and rested my hand on my chest.

“Jesus Christ that could’ve ended badly.”

My head fell forward, eyes closing to relax my racing heart.

“Hey baby!”

My eyes shot open. At the end of the dark hallway was the man I’d been thirsting over for the past three hours. He was smug, hands stuffed in his pockets. The dim glow of the fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling made him appear eerie.

“Black dress, high top converse. I figured it was you.”

He confidently strode forward, quickly closing the gap between us.

“So, what can I do you for?”

His eyeliner was smudged, his face was caked in sweat that glimmered in the pale light, and his black hair was extremely disheveled.

He looked badass, like a fucking rockstar.

“Um…”

Jesus I was gonna sound like a fucking idiot.

But, what was the worst that could happen? He’d probably kick me to the curb tonight. Whether it’d be before sex or after sex depended on how comfortable he was with my request.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“This is probably gonna sound completely crazy.”

Billie shrugged.

“I’ve heard a lot of crazy shit.”

I exhaled.

“I’m a fucking desperate adult virgin.”

I expected him to flinch or summon security to escort me out of the building. But he just stared, his small smile on his lips unaffected by my confession.

“So, what I’m getting at is that you want me to take your virginity.”

His tone seemed slightly sarcastic.

Oh God, he was gonna laugh at me.

“I know it sounds stupid and crazy. If you say no I’ll leave right now no questions asked.”

Billie chuckled.

“I’ve done way crazier shit… come on, let’s go to my dressing room and have a chat.”

The way he emphasized the word chat indicated that he had something up his sleeve that didn’t include chatting.

He indicated his right. I cocked my head. Among the gray walls, a small black door stood out.

There was still time to back out.

Hell no, I wasn’t fucking backing out.

I strode confidently to the door, opening it and passing through the threshold.

His dressing room was modest. The only items were a red couch, cluttered counters along the back wall, and a full-length mirror to my left.

The lock clicked into place.

The walls felt like they were closing in on me, the room shrinking as my heartbeat quickened to match the intense anxiety coursing through my veins.

The room was becoming smaller.

Was it always this hot?

I ran my finger under the collar of my t-shirt in the hopes of exposing more of my hot skin to the cool air.

“I bet you didn’t expect your night to end like this.”

I swiveled my head around, my body following until I was facing him. I dropped my hand, crossing my arms over my chest to hopefully sway his eyes from perceiving my nervousness. Billie leaned his shoulder against the door frame, his hip cocked to the side.

“I’m not gonna lie to you. I went to this concert in hopes of getting laid.”

We laughed softly in unison, the muffled bustle of people practically nonexistent in the closed confines of the dressing room.

“Kick off your shoes and stay a while.”

He stated smugly. I did as I was told, bending down to untie my converse and kicking them to the side haphazardly. Billie followed suit, taking care to draw out his movements to heighten the suspense of the situation.

“I like you… you’re different.”

Billie seemed approachable for a super famous rockstar. He was smug, but not arrogant. He had a soft exterior.

“What? You mean like… different than your other groupies?”

Billie used his own weight to push himself off the wall. He began striding confidently towards me, hands stuffed in his front pockets.

“No, just different.”

He continued to walk forward. I wasn’t nervous at the idea of having sex with possibly one of the most attractive and approachable men I’ve ever met.

I was nervous about the unknown.

I was nervous about what was to come when he slipped his hands under my shirt.

“You barely know me.”

Billie came to a halt as his deft fingers found his collar. He gradually undid the top three buttons, revealing a few more inches of his pale chest. My gaze was drawn to his newly exposed skin, the simple action sending a spark of pleasure to my core. I traced my wet tongue along my chapped bottom lip, already feeling myself grow wet at the mere idea of getting hot and heavy with Billie.

Only my virgin ass would become hot and bothered by seeing a few inches of a guy’s chest.

Jesus, if I had this reaction to seeing a small fragment of his torso I hate to imagine my body’s response when he removes his pants.

I just prayed it was the intimacy of the situation that affected me more than his slow and sensual actions.

“Well…”

Billie's voice faded as his rough palm cupped my cheek, forcing my gaze to shift away from his shirt collar. The proximity of our chests generated sexual electricity between us. I was being drawn towards him by an unseen force. But my fear of the unfamiliarity of the predicament held me back.

His intense gaze made my knees weak with anticipation. I dug my nails into my forearms, my cheeks flushing hot.

“We should get to know each other a little better.”

Billie cocked his head to the side, his lips ghosting over mine.

My stomach flipped.

My nerves were set on fire by his hot breath. I closed my eyes, wanting to close the gap and taste him on my tongue. But I held back, allowing him to be the leader and exploit my vulnerability.

The blood rushed from my face to my core as he pressed his lips to mine, leaving my skin hot and my insides cold. My arms relaxed, hands tangling in his short black hair as I groaned involuntarily against his mouth.

Billies surprisingly large hands moved down my chest, halting to cup my tender breasts through my clothing. The heel of his open palm brushed against my sensitive nipples, the buds hardening into peaks under his heavy touch.

I moaned loudly, parting my lips further and inviting his tongue to push between my lips. Our tongues began clashing, the kiss transforming into a heated battle as our teeth clashed. Heavy gasps of air were blown from our nostrils, Billie’s hands moving further downwards to grip my hips. He rocked my pelvis against his growing erection, the warmth of his excitement radiating through multiple layers of clothes. His cock was halfway soft, yet it was prominent against my covered mound.

Jesus, he was bigger than I anticipated and he was still fully clothed.

This newly discovered fact made my brain hazy with desire. I wasn’t thinking straight anymore, the need to be fucked overwhelming any rational idea that crossed my brain. My open palms began to travel down his body, fingers desperately grasping at anything I could get my hands on.

My touch discovered his belt. I snagged a finger into the leather, yanking him impossibly closer to me.

“P-please.”

I whispered softly against his gloriously plush lips. Billie smirked into the kiss, delighted that he had a profound effect on me.

“Please what?”

I gulped. Billie began walking forward, pushing me backwards until my knees came into contact with the couch. He released my hips as I thudded against the cushions. Billie glared at me, and I cocked my head back to meet his gaze. His intense eyes made me clench my thighs together in an attempt to gain friction for my now throbbing cunt.

“Please what?”

He repeated himself.

His tender grasp cupped my cheek and sensually held my face. His thumb dragged along my bottom lip, his fingertip lightly grazing over my plush mouth. My hands began to shake, so I stuffed them under my thighs.

“Please fuck me.”

I murmured, my tongue failing to follow my brain's commands after that mouth watering kiss.

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

To regain my composure, I swallowed, a large lump forming inside my throat.

“I said please fuck me.”

Thank God, my mouth was at least somewhat working in my favor. Billie drew my bottom lip downward before releasing it, my lip snapping back to its original place. He smirked devilishly.

“Can I taste you first?”

Billie’s honeyed tone dripped from his lush mouth and traveled straight to my core. I pursed my lips, shifting my pelvis to hopefully relieve the painful throbbing between my thighs.

“Yes…”

I whispered, nodding my head vigorously. Billie chuckled lowly at my desperation.

“Needy, are we?”

He began to shrink until he was on his knees in front of me, placing his calloused open palms on my thighs to pry my legs open. I forced my muscles to relax in order to make the process easier for him.

I was now wishing I had gone with my original plan of not wearing panties.

Billie's palms trailed upwards, grazing over my smooth skin until he reached the soft flesh of my hips. He grasped the sides of my panties with both of his hands, tugging them downwards. I lifted my legs ever so slightly off the couch, watching intently as he removed the soaked fabric from my body. He tossed my panties to the side, his hungry eyes landing on my now exposed cunt.

My distress obscured any potential feelings of insecurity that raced through my mind. I drew my hands from beneath my thighs, reaching forward to tangle my fingers in Billie's short hair.

“Please… do something.”

I begged.

Billie, thankfully, didn't hesitate to throw my knees over his shoulders and pull me to the edge of the couch. My dress bunched up around my hips, allowing Billie easy access to bury his face between my legs.

He began kissing along my sensitive inner thighs, every pulse of my cunt setting my body ablaze with hot desire.

“Just relax baby, I promise I’ll make you feel really good.”

It was extremely hard to “just relax” when his mouth was mere inches from where I wanted him most. Defeated, I allowed my head to fall onto the back of the couch. The tender kisses do little to quell the now painful throbbing.

I traced the cracks on the white ceiling, gritting my teeth to distract my brain from the edging. When Billie noticed that I was losing passion for the current predicament, he quickly licked a long stripe between my folds, the tip of his tongue grazing over my swollen clit. I bucked my hips against his mouth, my thighs crushing his head between my legs as my breath hitched loudly in my throat. I groaned, my eyes squeezing shut.

“Fuck!”

I exclaimed, Billie’s tongue expertly flicking my bundle of nerves, waves of pleasure coursing through my veins.

“Jesus baby, you’re so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

Billie hollowed his cheeks to increase the suction on my swollen bud, my pelvis grinding against his face.

“I can’t wait to fuck you. Your pretty little pussy is gonna feel so sweet wrapped around my cock.”

I knit my brow in pleasure, my hand turning white knuckled as I increased the intensity of my grip, pulling loose strands of hair from his scalp. His painted nails dug into my plush thighs, holding my hips in place.

“Ohhh fuck. That feels so good.”

I could feel warm liquid pooling in my lower abdomen. I was close, very close, but I needed an extra push in order to reach my long awaited release.

“Billie?”

“Yes.”

He mumbled rapidly against my core, the vibrations of his throat bouncing around my insides. I moaned shakily, my train of thought falling off a cliff.

“Yes baby? What do you want? Tell me.”

Oh, right.

“Can you… can you use your fingers please?”

My words tumbled out of my mouth in a frenzied mess. Frankly, I’m surprised he was able to pick up on my request due to the rushed nature of my voice. Billie smirked against my cunt.

“Yes I can baby. Thank you for asking so nicely.”

He released his death grip on my thighs, his dull nails leaving red crescent shaped wounds in their wake. Billie trailed one hand towards my core, two fingertips prodding teasingly at my wet entrance. I utilized my newly granted freedom to buck my hips forward against his fingers.

Billie retracted his fingers a few inches, the movements of his mouth halting. I groaned at the sudden loss of contact.

“Please.”

I gulped.

“I can’t take it anymore.”

Billie began to move his tongue lazily against my clit, slowly reaching his previous pace.

“Sorry baby.”

He slipped two fingers into me, thrusting them slowly against my spongy walls. My entire body convulsed, back arching off the couch in response to the in-sync movements of both his fingers and his warm mouth. I was soon reduced to a moaning mess, my body rushing towards an unstoppable orgasm.

“Billie… I’m gonna cum.”

Billie inserted another finger, stretching my walls further.

“Please cum on my mouth baby girl. I wanna taste you.”

He hollowed his cheeks once more, the suction increasing tenfold. Billie’s pace was becoming merciless, his intense actions traveling straight to the growing pool of liquid inside my lower abdomen. I trapped my lower lip under my top teeth to muffle the moans ripping through my body and piercing the quiet atmosphere of the dressing room.

With one final thrust of his calloused fingertips against my walls, I released on his face, the tension leaving my body in a sudden wave.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good.”

My chest heaved as I regained my composure, Billie lazily drinking in my juices, his fingers resting inside of me.

“You ready for me to fuck you now?”

My eyelids fluttered open, my retinas taking a moment to adjust to the soft light.

Was I ready now?

I had been ready this entire night!

I swung my head forward, growing wet once more at the image of Billie’s face buried between my thighs. He retracted his mouth from my core once he was satisfied, lightly setting my shaking legs back down onto the couch.

He pulled his fingers from my wet walls, leaving me feeling empty and hungry for more. My jaw dropped as Billie brought his cum soaked fingers to his lips, sucking them into his mouth erotically while igniting intense eye contact. The area around his mouth was wet with my juices, the damp skin glistening in the soft fluorescent lights.

He pulled his digits from his mouth with a soft pop, bringing his hands to the buttons on his shirt. My gaze followed his fingers as he exposed more of his skin for my eyes to take in. Tendons bulged from Billie’s ink-covered forearms as he hurriedly undid the numerous buttons.

Jesus, I never knew tattoos could turn me on this much.

My entire body stopped functioning when he exposed his dark happy trail.

I couldn’t breathe, my internal organs weren’t cooperating. I could only stare in utter disbelief.

Shit, was this really happening?

I expected to wake up at any moment with my panties soaked and my cunt throbbing.

This was a wet dream.

No way was I about to lose my virginity to fucking Billie Joe Armstrong.

“You wanna take off your dress? Or are you gonna keep gawking?”

My gaze snapped back to his eyes, cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment. I removed my socks first before extending my arms behind my head, only to realize the zipper was barely out of my reach.

“Could-could you do it?”

Billie scoffed, standing to his full height.

“Sure… come here baby.”

He motioned with his index finger for me to come hither and stand before him. I gulped before rising on shaky knees, hands at my sides. Billie cocked his head sideways.

“Turn around.”

He demanded, his tone light and playful. I turned to face the back wall, my eyes glazing over the various clutter on the counters. Billie's hot fingertips grazed over the cool skin on my back as he gradually dragged the zipper on my dress downwards.

The dress fell, pooling around my ankles. My breath caught in my throat as Billie wrapped his large hands around my breasts, kneading softly. I groaned involuntarily, his hair tickling my neck as he rested his chin atop my shoulder.

“God, I wanted to fuck you the moment I caught you staring at me in the crowd.”

I inhaled shakily.

“You’re the lead singer. What was I supposed to do? Not look at you?”

Although my words were sassy, my tone was anything but. Billie scoffed.

“There’s a difference between looking and staring. Believe me, I know.”

He placed a gentle kiss on my neck, dragging his wet tongue along my jugular. His lips came to rest against my earlobe.

“I could tell by that sleazy look in your eyes that your mind was up to no good.”

I gasped as he pinched my hardened nipples between two fingers, my head falling onto his shoulder.

“Please Billie, just fuck me already.”

He pulled my back against his front. Our bare skin collided, the cool metal of his belt buckle pressed against my lower back. I could already feel my juices dripping down my inner thighs.

“Alright baby… since you asked me so politely.”

He breathed against my earlobe, his hot breath raising goosebumps along my skin.

“Bend yourself over the couch. I wanna fuck you from the back.”

I suppose I was losing my virginity in a rather kinky manner.

Whatever, I wasn’t about to complain.

I strode forward, kneeling atop the soft cushions and leaning my torso over the back of the couch. I rested my chin on the back of my hands, waited patiently for Billie to make the next move. My exposed ass and wet cunt was on display for his gaze.

The prominent sound of a clinking belt buckle cut through the quiet anticipation.

Fuck.

Shit.

This was really happening.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t want to look back.

I knew his cock was definitely mouth watering.

But the image of his thick, rock hard cock on full display had the potential to place thoughts of doubt and fear inside my brain.

So I chose to allow the suspense to consume me.

The cushions shifted under me as a second person climbed atop the couch. His open palms dragged along my sides, the subtle touches sending a chill down my spine. He stopped to tenderly wrap his hands around my fleshy hips.

“I’ll go slow at first. Let me know if you want me to stop.”

I nodded.

“Alright.”

Billie dragged the swollen tip of his cock through my folds, eliciting a low groan from the back of my throat. I dug my nails into the couch, bracing myself for what was to come. He slowly pushed in, my walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

“Fuck…”

I mumbled, the insertion of his cock cursed subtle waves of pain to pulse through my stretched cunt.

“Does it feel good?”

He murmured raspily.

It did.

It hurt so good.

“Yes… it feels really fucking good.”

Billie began to rock his pelvis, pulling almost completely out before burying himself balls deep within me. This process continued slowly at first, my body moving slightly with every slow thrust.

“Fuck Billie, you’re so big.”

Billie groaned.

“If you keep talking like that sweetheart I may have to fuck you harder.”

My eyes fluttered closed. He utilized his gentle grasp on my hips to pull me back to meet his slow thrusts.

It was far too slow for me.

“Please fuck me harder… I need it.”

Billie chuckled as he began to quicken his pace.

“You’re a little slut, aren’t you?”

I knit my brow.

“Yes, I am.”

I couldn’t even deny it.

Billie began yanking me backwards to meet the intense snap of his hips. My body rocked with every thrust, soft groans falling from my lips every time he buried himself into my soaking cunt.

“You’re so fucking tight Y/N. I could fuck you forever.”

I wanted him to fuck me forever. This angle was perfect for him to slam into my g spot everytime he slammed into me. The wet slapping sounds of sex bounced off the thick brick walls.

It was truly erotic.

A moment ripped straight from a porn.

“Can I cum inside you baby? Would that make you happy?”

His tone was surprisingly stable, not faltering.

I admired the self control.

I scratched my nails against the couch cushions, hoping to gain some leverage. The mention of cum made me notice the tightening pinch slowly building in my lower abdomen.

“Yes, that’d make me happy. Please chin inside of me.”

Billie’s calloused fingertips found my clit, and he began rubbing soft figure eights into my swollen bundle of nerves.

I moaned loudly, the pleasure consuming me.

I was unable to form a coherent thought.

“Fuck, your pussy is so sweet. I’m gonna cum.”

His cock twitched within my spongy walls.

I was close as well.

The subdued pain made my toes curl.

It hurt so fucking good.

The gentle movements of his finger against my clit pulled the coil tighter.

“I’m gonna cum too… please keep fucking me I wanna cum on your cock.”

Billie grunted.

“Can you cum for me?”

I clenched my abdomen, his raspy tone sending me over the edge with a pornographic moan. Billie followed shortly after, his hot cum coating my walls. I was thrown into cold water, my body overcome with a sudden onset of erotic euphoria.

I could’ve cum a third time just by the sexiness of his cum filling me to the brim.

He continued to lazily thrust into me, his fingers moving slowly around my overstimulated clit.

I came down gradually, wanting to prolong this delicious feeling for as long as humanly possible.

Billie chuckled.

“You should come to our shows more often.”

He leaned in, brushing his plush lips over my earlobe.

“Maybe next time I’ll tie you up.”

[astoriawritings]

Anybody interested in a David Bowie or a Green Day rp? I am looking for something casual and I don't demand much. One sentence replies are okay from time to time. Preferably long-term since I can reply once or twice a day. Pm me :)

[deadbeatphobos]

Bang the Doldrums

Rockstar! Jason Todd x Rockstar! gn! reader headcanons

"And I cast a spell over the west to make you think of me, the same way i think of you''

WC: 200+

Would write an album dedicated to you, and the album cover for it would be something that is symbolic for the both of you (that album would then become his best-selling one and would later win a grammy for it)

Keeps your old guitar picks and turns them into a necklace, wears it every time he has a gig/concert

He's your BIGGEST fan, whenever you have a gig, he will always be there to support you, whether it's being in the front row where you can spot him cheering you on, or bringing you and your bandmates food and drinks right after your gig 

Will have your name or initials on his guitar (kinda like how Frank Iero has his ‘’pansy’ guitar/Billie Joe Armstrong having his initials on his) 

Would try to keep your relationship with him a secret, but soon people eventually caught on 

Secretly has a fanpage dedicated to you, where he posts so many edits of you, and started posting ship edits of you and him when people started catching on that you two were dating

Once people found out that both of you were dating, he immediately changed his handle to “Y/n l/n’s #1 and BIGGEST fan”, you also changed your handle to Jason Todd’s #1 fan’’ 

The day he proposed to you was the fifth anniversary of the release of the album he wrote about you. 

On the day you both got married, when exchanging gifts, you both exchanged your guitars with each other. 

Likes, comments and reblogs are all greatly appreciated <3

By @deadbeatphobos not copy, translate or post my fics on any platform without permission