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loverontheleft · 1 year

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Tease (Revised)

Revised 03/2023

Original anonymous request: heyyy i don’t know if you do specific eras but could you do vices!b smut where he has like the dirtiest most sinful mouth ever; like so dirty that the reader comes because of it one day and he decides to use it to his advantage in… certain… places… and it ends with him “apologizing” and then making it up to her in the bedroom

Brendon x Reader; 12k words (7k more than the original 😂)

Warnings: filthy language, degrading praise (good/best/etc slut), and some public sex.

-||-

You’re curled up together on the couch in your usual loungewear; that is, Brendon’s in sweatpants and nothing else, and you’re in underwear and one of his shirts. He likes to joke that between the two of you, you usually wear one complete outfit.

At this moment, he’s scrolling through Netflix, but you’ve both shot down every option. You yawn and stretch a little and, as your back arches, you press against him. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t intentional; you’ve been craving his hands, his mouth, his body.

One of his hands instinctively curves over your hip and pulls you back against him, while the other strokes idly over your chest with lazy fingers teasing and gently rolling your nipples through the shirt.

You love when he holds you like this, pulls you close, like he can’t get enough of you. He’s got his hands all over you, his hips pressing forward slightly so you can feel how hard you make him, mouth on your neck as he whispers how badly he wants to touch you and make you feel good. How good he feels when he sees you completely undone for him, quivering and wholly satisfied, and he knows he’s taken care of you, his ‘best, favorite, and only girl.’

You rock back, seeking more pressure. “More, B,” you whimper finally, and he groans happily while he rubs against you. His hands are still wandering, but with purpose now, and you can feel just how hard he really is. You realize he didn’t have any intention of finding something to watch either.

“Shit, Brendon,” you murmur, working your hips back for a moment before just deciding to turn over and face him. You can’t help it; you cling to him, face buried in his neck, and start pressing yourself along his length, getting lost in the feeling. “You feel good.”

He props himself up on one arm and nibbles a light path along the shell of your ear. “I should be saying that to you, sweet baby, the way you’re rubbing your pussy all over me. Fucking love my sweet girl and how she grinds on my dick, silently begging to get fucked, showing me how badly she needs me, how wet she is for me,” he whispers, nuzzling your neck before inhaling. “Mmmm, you smell good too.”

You grin, hitching a leg over his hip and pushing forward for more. “Thanks, B. I showered this morning.”

He rolls his eyes and pokes you gently in the side. “Yes, I know, love. I was there, remember?”

You sigh happily at the memory of his hard, silicone-lubed cock filling you over and over again as he pressed you into the shower wall with your hands pinned over your head; he grabs at your ass now and pulls you into him, taking over the lazy thrusting you’ve started and giving it a sense of urgency. He knows just how to hold you and just how to angle his hips to ensure that he presses the head of his cock right against your clit before grinding his entire length into you with firm, purposeful strokes; you whisper how much you love it, and he shifts you underneath him and spreads your legs wider.

You’re sure you’re wet enough that you’ve soaked through your underwear and onto his sweatpants, and as much as you love the tease of your fiancé’s thick cock pressing into you through two layers of fabric, you guide his hand down. You need more from him, and he happily takes the hint.

“Fuck,” Brendon groans, sliding your underwear to one side and trailing his fingers through slick heat. “Babygirl, you’re so damn wet. You’d think I’d be used to that by now, but goddamn, if it isn’t the hottest thing. Always so fucking sexy. Can I have you, sweet girl?”

When you nod eagerly, he kisses you deeply, murmuring against your mouth, “Kitten, I’m gonna make it so good for you.”

You shiver in pleasure at the terms of endearment; ‘Babygirl’ is one that he knows makes you squirm out of your panties if you’re even wearing them, and he only calls you ‘Kitten’ when he plans to absolutely ravish you. The combination now is sending your mind to new levels of arousal. He’s always the best you've ever had, always mind-blowingly good, but something about him using both just takes it up another level.

You just know you’re going to thrash and squeal as you come hard on his cock or his fingers or his face. You particularly love coming on his face; you love feeling his eager tongue collect everything he’s coaxed from you, thumbs keeping you spread so he can really taste you as you rock your wet pussy over his face.

Now, Brendon’s fingers slide over you again, teasing and stroking while his lips move down your neck. You desperately want his fingers to go deeper. When you squirm down into his hand, he grins at you.

“Naughty Kitten, trying to get my fingers in her wet cunt.” You both feel the surge of arousal against his fingers, and he groans. “Fucking love how you respond to my mouth, sweet girl.”

“Technically,” you manage, still rolling your hips, “I was responding to your words.”

“Ah, yes,” Brendon concedes. “But if I were to slide down this couch...” he pauses to work his way down so his head is resting between your hips. “Get you out of these wet panties, and eat this gorgeous pussy, then you’d be reacting to my mouth.” He’s worked your underwear down your legs as he’s been talking and, once he concludes his thought, he buries his face in between your thighs.

“Fuck!” You grab at his hair and grind back against his tongue eagerly. “Shit, that’s so good; fuck, Brendon—don’t stop, don’t stop!” Your thighs clench around his head, and you’re breathing hard; you can feel your orgasm building.

Brendon groans happily before his tongue flicks at your clit, but then he’s pulling back, pulling away. He kneels between your legs, breathing hard and staring down at you longingly. “Fucking love your pussy. Love you, babygirl. Love getting you riding my tongue; the way you grab my hair and fuck my mouth by grinding all over me, letting me taste all of you as you come on my face. Do it, Kitten. Do it for me; give me all this sweetness. Let me get my mouth back on your perfect cunt, then you can rub your pussy against my tongue while I finger you. Fuck, want you to soak my face; come hard, sweet girl.”

You whimper at his words, and you know he doesn’t want you to come until he’s licking your clit again, tasting you. You can’t help it though; his words are almost as good as his tongue. Your back arches, and you can feel your orgasm rip through you. There’s a ringing in your ears, but you can still hear him swear with happy disbelief at how hard you’ve just come, and without him even touching you.

You’re shaking now, and you can feel the slickness all over your thighs and the couch under you. He’s watching you in awe, thumbs pressing into your hips, and you make a small sound of pleasure that makes his cock twitch.

Transfixed, Brendon dips two fingers between your thighs and lifts them to his mouth, licking slowly. He groans, and you whine, wriggling in place as he sucks them clean. Unable to resist, he presses his tongue to your clit, and you sigh happily when you feel him.

“Fuck, Kitten…” he murmurs with a slick, shining mouth when he finally pulls back, gazing up at you through dreamy, heavy eyes. “All this, just from my words?” You’re breathing hard and nodding, and Brendon takes a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “Goddamn, that’s so hot. You’re so hot. So fucking sexy. That’s—fuck, incredible.”

“You make me wild,” you offer weakly, laughing a little at how much of an understatement that is.

He’s still staring at you, licking his fingers contentedly. “Kitten, we’ve been together so long. How have I never known that I can make you do…this?”

You shrug as best you can from your prone position. “Not sure. I’ve definitely come from you talking before though. Maybe this is the first time it’s happened where you haven’t been actively touching me too? You know I love the dirty talk. I’ve always said that.” You blush a little, and Brendon grins, acknowledging this.

Gently, his hands spread your legs again, and you eagerly guide his head back where you need him. “So fucking hot, seeing you come like that,” he murmurs against your inner thigh. “Fucking love it; love that I can get you off just by telling you what I want to do with you. Wanna make you come again. Love you so much. Yeah, Kitten, get me right where you want me; grind your wet pussy down on my tongue and ride it, baby. Give me everything you’ve got; you know I want to eat you out ‘til you can’t come anymore. God, you sound so pretty, getting off on my tongue. You’re such a good girl for me; my best girl is going to come on my face, isn’t she?”

You’re making soft, desperate sounds as you thread your fingers through his hair. You’re close again, just from hearing him talk like this. He loves when you pull his hair while you rub your clit on his tongue, and he’s happy to assist now by creating a tiny rolling sensation and pressing two fingers to your entrance.

His tongue disappears after a moment though, and you gasp at the loss while his fingers press a little harder. “Wish I could fill you with my cock and lick your clit at the same time, baby. Know you’d come so hard; know you’d soak on my face and my cock. Fuck, I’d love that. Get my girl’s slick sweetness all over me, everywhere. Let me drown in your cunt. Can you imagine? I’d come on the spot, feeling you on my face and cock at the same time. You’d lose your mind with my cock filling you up while my tongue works your clit in soft circles. You’d love that too and come so hard for me, wouldn’t you?”

All you can do is whimper your agreement; he sucks gently at your clit now, relishing your reaction and gazing up at you adoringly. “The only scenario I can think of that allows you to get fucked and licked at the same time,” Brendon murmurs thoughtfully, “is a threesome, but that’s not happening. And besides, there’s the logistical issues. Who would get the privilege of suckling my baby’s perfect clit? Who’d get the absolute bliss that comes from feeling your sweet cunt take every inch of their hard cock? Doesn’t actually matter though; I don't share my good girl, my pretty Kitten now, and I’m certainly not going to start after we’re married.”

You know they were rhetorical questions, but you answer anyway. “Only you get me. I only ever want you, Bren.” You’re wiggling your hips and searching for his tongue or fingers. “Give it to me. Need your mouth. Need your cock. Give me something; make me come for you again.”

“God, you know I want to. You know nothing makes me happier than feeling your pussy tense against my mouth or around my cock before I get your sweetness all over me. Shit, I wanna make you come again. Can you come for me one more time, babygirl?”

“I can,” you tell him desperately. “Just need —fuck—you to lick my clit and give me two fingers. I’ll imagine it’s your thick cock filling me up, fucking me hard. Pull my hair a little, call me your slut for wanting your cock so desperately, then call me your best girl when I come from your touch, your fingers. Or just fuck me; B, you can fuck me any way you want, and I’ll come on your cock.”

“You know I want to,” Brendon repeats, caressing your face, though he looks like he’s just realized something, and he’s disappointed by it. “But if I fuck you the way I want to fuck you, we’ll be late.”

You blink, processing this.

“Dinner, Kitten. With your parents? We probably need to go get ready. We definitely need another shower; we both smell like sex. You’ve got sex hair, my love; the result of writhing around on our couch humping my face, and, therefore, my face is absolutely covered in you. I love it, but your parents might not.”

“Fuck.”

“No, babygirl, fucking is exactly what we can’t do,” Brendon says playfully, pushing himself upright and off of the couch. Once he’s standing, he adjusts his cock, so the waistband of his sweatpants presses the head to his stomach.

You have a sudden urge to lick the shining beads of precum at the tip; you shift onto your knees on the couch, tugging him forward and wrapping your mouth around the exposed head of his cock. He groans, hands immediately going to your hair to guide your mouth even lower while you shove his pants down. He swears under his breath, thrusting into your mouth, and you’re pretty sure he’s going to give up on the idea of showering.

You suck eagerly, head bobbing and tongue stroking his length. You increase the tension around his cock; you’re sucking so hard that you’re hollowing out your cheeks, and he’s breathing slowly, trying to keep in control.

“Fuck, Kitten; you’re gonna suck me dry,” Brendon manages with a short laugh, grunting when you swallow him fully and cup his balls in one hand; you’re rolling and squeezing lightly the way he loves.

“Shit, that’s good. Suck my cock like a good girl, suck it like my favorite slut who’s wild for my cock, honey; you’ve got the best fucking mouth. Such a good girl, such a slutty girl, you’re my best girl. Best girl,” he pants, rocking his hips a little. “Taking all of my cock like this in your mouth. You deserve to come so hard, Kitten. But—shit—we just don’t have the time.” You can hear the regret in his voice, and you sit back, wiping at your mouth.

“Hell, just keep talking while I blow you then. You know I can come from your dirty talk now, and I’m always at least halfway to coming when I’ve got your cock in my mouth.” You’re a little desperate, dropping your mouth back down the length of his cock and grinning to yourself when he groans your name.

Instead of succumbing to your methods though, he tugs his sweatpants up, effectively lifting your mouth off of him, and scoops you into his arms. “Kitten, we’ve really gotta go upstairs and get ready.”

You cling to him as he heads for the stairs. As he walks, you press gentle kisses down his neck and keep trying to grind against his cock. “Fuck me,” you beg, and he laughs softly.

“Kitten, I said no.” He nips at your shoulder delicately, and you whine, scratching at his back. You normally love when he’s bossy, love when he’s dominant and in control, but that’s when it’s in the form of him tying you down to your bed, or spanking you, or holding your head while you suck his cock so he can fuck your mouth. Now, you’re just frustrated.

“Please, B?”

When he hesitates, you know you’re wearing him down. You caress his back, pressing more soft, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. He groans, and you can feel his cock throb. You tug at his hair, and he stops walking upstairs; you assume it’s to compose himself.

Instead, he presses you against the wall of the stairwell and kisses you roughly. You moan into his mouth and buck against his cock. “Fucking love you. We can make out in the shower,” Brendon concedes, giving you a small grin. “My naughty baby, begging.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” you tell him happily, tangling your hands in his hair and kissing him hard. “I’d prefer to get your cock, or your tongue, or your fingers, but if all you’ll give me is a hot and steamy make out session in the shower, I’ll take it.”

-||-

“God, you look so damn good soaking wet,” Brendon murmurs, leaning back against the shower wall and stroking a conditioner-covered hand over his cock. “Wish I could take the time now to fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

“Oh, is that the excuse you’re using?” You raise an eyebrow as you rinse the shampoo from your hair. “That we’re not fucking right now because it’d be rushed, and I deserve better than that?”

Brendon laughs, stepping under the water with you and kissing you sweetly. “Yes, Kitten. That’s the ‘excuse’ I’m going with. Trust me, I do plan to fuck you once we’re home and have nothing but time.”

You huff, nibbling at his lower lip. “Maybe I don’t wanna get fucked when we get home.” You’re obviously kidding, or at least you think you’re being obvious. Instead, Brendon takes a step back.

“Oh, okay. Got it. No fucking.” He slides the glass door of the shower back, stepping out and reaching for a towel. He wraps the towel around his waist and walks out of the bathroom with his hands raised in surrender and an amused smile.

“Wait, don’t go! I was teasing! Bren—come back! We barely made out!” You call after him desperately. “Bren?! I’m owed more kisses!”

There’s been no resolution to your banter, but that smile of his tells you that he knows the truth; he knows how badly you want him. If that’s the case, you’re afraid his teasing as retaliation will only get worse. “Shower, Kitten,” he calls back, laughing. “I’ve got to get dressed.”

-||-

You’re sitting in front of your vanity, carefully lining your lips when Brendon comes into the room in very tight pants and an unbuttoned shirt. He’s got a tie in one hand and a pair of suspenders in the other, and he leans against the wall, watching you in your mirror. “Here’s my dilemma, Kitten. This dinner is definitely jacket and tie level, but I really want to do suspenders and a bow tie, which are more casual. Can I get away with it?”

You pause, looking at him in the mirror, and you have to catch your breath. “Uh. I don’t know. You booked the reservation. I don’t…I don’t know. Wait—what was the question?”

You can’t focus when he’s half-undressed like this. With his still-damp hair, flushed skin, and undone shirt, he looks like he does after a show, and you’ve always found him particularly irresistible then. He must know this; you were with him for his entire tour that ended just two weeks ago—most nights, you couldn’t even make it to the bus or hotel room.

Instead, you would drag him into his dressing room, bend over the vanity, and lift your skirt or shove your leggings down. The last month of the tour, you didn’t even bother with underwear.

Brendon would drop to his knees behind you and eat you out eagerly, noisily, messily, groaning into you that you’d better be watching yourself in the mirror to ‘see how good you look with a tongue and two fingers deep in your cunt.’ Between his talented tongue, two fingers flexing and curling in you, and his other hand gripping your ass or occasionally giving you a hard spank while he ate you out, you always came fast, hard, and hot all over his face and fingers.

He’d insist on making you come at least twice before he stood back up and fucked you with your hands braced against the mirror; it was rough and urgent, and you were both incredibly loud. You couldn’t make any sound on the bus, and there weren’t nearly enough hotel nights, so you both took full advantage of each private dressing room. The rooms weren’t completely soundproofed, but they did have locking doors, which was a step up from bus bunks.

You shiver at the memory of Brendon’s hand on your hip and the other tangled in your hair as he thrust into you at a frantic pace; the memory of his groans as they echoed down the hall, that he was going to come once you came all over his cock, going to fill his best girl up with his cum, going to give it all to her, going to come in her wet cunt and fuck her through it all.

Or, sometimes, he’d let you shove him down onto the couch and ride him fast and hard, both of you scratching and clawing at each other desperately until you fell apart for him. As much as you loved seeing yourself get eaten out, you also loved the look on his face when you rode him.

He’s never liked to make you do any work; however, you know that sometimes after a show, he’s tired and just needs his girl on his cock, bouncing and riding and rocking, driving him wild. You’d get him close before getting on your knees in front of him and lifting, pressing your breasts together so he could jack off and come all over them. You’d more than happily swallow for him, but he loved the visual of his cum dripping into your cleavage. You loved it too.

You consider going over to him now, shoving his shirt all the way off, tugging his pants down, and making him fuck you against the wall. The only reason you don’t is because you’re pretty sure he knows this is exactly what you’re thinking, and he’ll find a way to resist and tease you more. Instead, you give him your most wide-eyed, sad stare. “Why are you punishing me?”

“Oh Kitten, this isn’t a punishment.” He stands behind you now, warm hands rubbing your shoulders and thumbs pressing carefully into your neck the way you love.

“Isn’t it, though? You’re teasing me, still calling me Kitten, even now that you know I could come from the shit you’re saying. And I definitely could, but it wouldn’t be as satisfying as actually getting you.”

Instead of responding, Brendon looks thoughtful. “Speaking of me: back to my dress code question. Personally, I want to go with suspenders because it’ll give you something to hold onto when I’m kneeling between your legs, licking your clit.”

You flush, lip pencil trembling a little.

“But,” he continues, “if I go with the jacket and tie, I’ll be able to bind your wrists behind your back when you’re blowing me in the back of the car later. Know how much you love that. I love it too, how you show off for me, taking all of me in your mouth, no hands. My dirty Kitten is a bit of a performer too, isn’t she? She loves hearing me praise her when she sucks my cock.” He looks back at you, an eyebrow raised. “So, what do you think?”

You can’t speak, lips parted slightly, and he nods. “No, you’re absolutely right. It actually doesn’t matter what I wear, because you don’t want to get fucked. So, I might as well do what I like. Why not both? I’ll wear the suspenders under my jacket with the tie. Such a good point, my love.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and walks into the closet to retrieve a jacket; you gasp for air, realizing you’ve forgotten to breathe. “Fuck,” you whisper, staring at yourself in the mirror. “Fuck.” With shaking hands, you go to finish your makeup before he can distract you again. He’s never teased you like this before, but now you both know you can only take so much of his dirty talk before you come. You’re a little afraid of how far he’s going to take this.

Brendon comes back out, and you glance up. He’s holding two black dresses. “I think you should wear one of these. This one,” he indicates the dress on the left, “is short enough that I could finger you in the car on the way there. But this one,” he shakes the dress on the right, “is a wrap dress, which means if we needed to pull over for a quickie, it’d be easy to get off—just like you, m’dear.” He grins a little at the double entendre, and you groan. “Oh, but we won’t need to, that’s right. Sorry Kitten, I’m used to planning our wardrobe around our mutually high sex drives. Guess it doesn’t matter tonight though.” He hangs up the wrap dress on the door along with his jacket and winks at you.

He then bounds over to the bed, laying across it on his stomach, watching you. “Damn baby, you’re so fucking pretty. I love watching you get ready. It’s so satisfying, knowing I’m going to be the one to mess up that lipstick when you get down on your knees for me and I fuck your mouth. You suck my dick so good; there won’t be a bit of that color left on your pretty lips. It’ll all be smeared along my cock. You want it, Kitten? Want me to slide this thick cock over your tongue, thrusting slowly until I come in your mouth? You want to swallow for me, baby? Or maybe I’ll just come on your tongue. You want to watch me stroke my cock until I come on your tongue? You can let it drip onto your chin and down to your perfect tits. God, I fucking need to get my cock in you. You doing your makeup is the adult version of building a Jenga tower; both of us know I’m going to knock it down. Fuck, I love wrecking you.”

His tone is neutral, level, and there’s not a hint of desire in him—except for his eyes. His eyes are dark and burning, and you shiver a little when they meet yours.

“Brendon Urie, you are being a tease on purpose,” you hiss, trying to steady your breathing so you can apply mascara.

He ignores your comment and focuses on the wand in your hand. “Jesus, and don’t even get me started on the rest of your makeup. ‘Better than Sex,’ my ass. TooFaced has never seen us in action. You look so good when we go out, but after I get you home and in bed, everything about your face would tell people how good I fucked you. Mascara smudged, lipstick worn away, foundation missing from all the marks on your jawline that remind others you’re mine. TooFaced would need to rebrand after seeing you when we’re done. Don’t get me wrong, you still look fucking sexy as hell, but it’s definitely not because of your mascara.”

You squirm a little in your chair, feeling how wet you are, and whimper a little. “Brendon, please,” you whisper, and he grins.

“You’re begging already? I haven’t even touched you, babygirl.” You glare at him, and he keeps grinning. “Ready to go?” You rise from your seat at the vanity and drop your robe. You can tease too, you reason in your head. You’re sure he can see the shining on your inner thighs and how hard your nipples are. You’re right. With a determined look in his eyes, he gets off the bed and crosses to you.

With one hand tangled in your hair and the other between your thighs, he backs you up against the wall, pressing hot kisses down your neck. “Fuck, Kitten. You are so ready for me,” he murmurs as his fingers curl and press right where you want him. “You want my cock, pretty girl? Love you on my cock; love sucking and licking and pinching your nipples while you fuck yourself onto my cock. Tell me you want it; you know I love to hear you.” His fingers spread a bit, and you gasp how much you want it, how much you hope he’s getting you ready to take all of him.

His fingers curl again before slipping from you; it doesn’t last long enough to push you over the edge, and you gasp and clutch at him, trying to find any words while you lift a leg up over his hip. Instead, he presses a hand lightly to your hip, keeping you in place.

“I know you want to get fucked right now. You want me to shove my pants down, lift you up, and bounce you on my cock til you come. You’re so goddamn sexy; I love you so much. You want to be on this thick cock, sweet girl? Fuck, I’d take you against this wall, let you bite and scratch at me while I work my cock deeper and deeper into your cunt until neither of us can take it and you come all over me while I come in you. You want that? You want to get filled with my cum, Kitten? Love that little whimper you make when you feel my cum deep in you. Love watching it drip down your thighs after I’ve come in you, given you everything. So dirty, but I fucking love seeing you covered in my cum. Love coming all over you, but love coming in you most.”

You buck against him, begging, and he kisses you hard, murmuring against your mouth how needy you are. You nod, and he groans a little, stroking your cheek. “Maybe my needy Kitten wants me to turn her around, press her into this wall or drag her to bed and get her on her hands and knees. Damn, babygirl,” Brendon moans, burying his face in your neck, “if you were on your hands and knees right now, you know I’d fuck you from behind, one hand pulling your hair and the other rubbing your clit. Whisper in your ear how slutty you’re being. You love when I call you a slut while you’re on your hands and knees for me, when all you can feel is my thick cock pounding into your slutty cunt before I come in you, don’t you?” You both groan and you nod as best you can.

Brendon tugs at your hair lightly, continuing. “Yeah, I know you love when I call you my perfect slut while you take my cock from behind. Be my best slut and beg me for every inch of this big, thick cock.”

Brendon’s always so indulgent of you, and you love him for it. He was admittedly amused the first time you said you wanted to hear him call himself ‘big.’ He conceded ‘thick’ with a small groan as you wrapped your hand around him and stroked eagerly, but he told you that he just couldn’t see ‘big.’

However, when you told him it was all a matter of perspective and made him compare the length of two fingers to his cock, he understood your point. You know he’ll never believe it himself, but he knows why you think it, and he loves your reaction, so he says it when he wants you particularly hot for him.

Now, hearing it, you whine desperately like he wants, wishing his fingers were still teasing your clit or curling inside you. You’re so fucking close.

He spins you around and you eagerly press yourself against the wall, dipping your back and lifting your hips so he can fill you easily. His hand in your hair guides your head back gently, and you know he wants you to say it.

“Give me that big, thick cock, Bren; fuck me, please fuck your slut, I’m your slut,” you plead, and you hear the rasp of his zipper coming down. That sound alone has you on the edge of coming. Your breath catches in your throat, but instead of thrusting into you, he starts rubbing the hard length of his cock against the curve of your ass. With your head tilted back like this, he can whisper right in your ear.

“You are my slut, and I know you’d take it so good, Kitten; you know this big cock is all for you and you know I want to give it to you.” He tugs lightly at your hair, just enough to make your stomach clench. “Want to feel your hot cunt squeeze my cock, get you to come all over me before you get down on your knees and suck my cock. You’ll swallow for me when you make me come, won’t you, babygirl? Know you love tasting us together.”

“Please,” you whimper, biting at your arm to try to temper your lust. You can feel your arousal all over your thighs, and you know you’re dangerously close to coming. If the words ‘big’ or ‘thick’ leave his mouth or he pulls your hair one more time, then you know you’re going to come. You won’t be able to stop yourself.

“Fuck, Kitten. You know I love when you’re this wet for me, this ready for my cock.” His fingers trace along your inner thighs and you whimper; it’s enough, and you writhe in his grasp, breathing hard, back arching, hips bucking, and body trembling as wet heat rolls down your thighs and over his fingers. Brendon turns you around once more and presses your back against the wall; you know from the look on his face that he knows he’s just made you come again, and all he wants is to drop to his knees and bury his face in your pussy.

Instead, he rests his forehead against yours and takes a shaky breath. The desire is positively rolling off of him. His next words are calculatedly casual; you appreciate knowing he’s struggling with this tease too. “But that’s not what I meant by ‘ready to go,’ unfortunately.” Stretching a bit toward the top of his dresser, he plucks a tissue from the box and wipes lazily between your legs. “What I meant was we need to get you dressed, so you’re ready to go to dinner.”

Your eyes narrow and he chuckles as you stomp over to your dresser and throw on a bra and underwear. You’re fastening your bra when you hear his zipper slide back up into place, and you whine, slumping over on the bed to shove your feet into the shoes he’s set out for you.

“Come here, my love; don’t pout. You must know that I have plans for you later.” His voice is soothing, and you allow him to coax you over to him once you’ve got your heels on. You slip your arms into the dress he’s holding, and he wraps it, dropping to his knees and tying it as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, lips parting and tongue teasing as his mouth moves upwards.

You moan a little, and Brendon smiles up at you. “You like this, babygirl? Me down on my knees for you?” You nod weakly, and he kisses your thigh again, suckling gently and leaving a faint mark. “I do too. Can still taste your sweetness all over your thighs. So worked up for me, fuck. Got me so worked up too. You going to let me take you to our bed later, pretty girl? Show you just how much I love eating your sweet pussy? You know I love tasting you before I fuck you.”

You don’t need to answer; he knows. You nod anyway.

“Love that,” he murmurs, standing back up and caressing your face tenderly. “You’re always my best girl. My favorite girl. You’re my only girl,” he says with a small smile, “but still my best, favorite girl. So good for me, so good to me; you’re my sweet baby, my babygirl.” He’s giving you the softest, most reverent look as he murmurs, “my forever love, my precious Kitten, and my future wife.”

You feel your knees give out and as you crumble, both of his hands grab your hips, supporting you while your hands clutch at his shoulders.

“No, sweet baby; you can’t be hitting the floor for me just yet.” Brendon’s fingers flex possessively, and you can see the hunger in his eyes. “We have to have a nice dinner with your parents. Then we can play as much as you want.”

You whimper internally, not sure that you’ll make it through dinner at this rate, and you dig your fingers into his shoulders. Still, you have to try.

“Take me to dinner, Brendon.” You steady yourself and he pulls you flush against him, lips just barely brushing over yours. You lean in, desperate for him, and he leans back, just barely evading you with a smile. “Tease,” you murmur.

“You love it,” he retorts with a smug grin before leading you out of the house.

-||-

“Brendon,” you laugh, putting a hand over your mouth. “Why on earth did you get a limo?”

He shrugs as you both slide into the back of the waiting car. “I sent one to the airport for your parents; figured my sweetest, best girl deserved one too.” He holds out an arm to you, and you snuggle into his side, mumbling about the unnecessary expense.

He kisses your temple lightly. “You were an absolute angel and came with me for the entirety of my tour because I needed you. It was a successful tour because I had you with me. This is a very nice dinner to celebrate the end of said tour with you—my beautiful fiancée—and my future in-laws. Why shouldn’t I spend the money?” He raises an eyebrow as if he’s expecting an answer, and you shrug helplessly.

“I guess I just don’t want you to think I expect this sort of thing. I love you. Not the fancy shit.”

“And I love you,” Brendon replies, caressing your cheek and brushing his lips over yours. “And you were more than a good sport about essentially living on an overcrowded tour bus for many months, so let me spoil you a little with some ‘fancy shit.’ Besides,” and his voice drops, “it would be dangerous to fuck you or let you ride my cock in the back of a regular car.”

“Don’t start teasing me again,” you whimper, twisting in your seat to cling to him with both arms. “I cannot take it.”

He laughs, scooping you up so you’re sitting in his lap and facing him as he presses the button to raise the partition. “I’m not teasing you, love. It’s true that I can’t kiss you the way I really want until after dinner because it will ruin your pretty lipstick, and you can’t grind your sweet pussy against my cock until after dinner because we’ll both come from that, but if you think I’m not gonna have you as an appetizer, you’re very mistaken.”

“Appetizer?”

You can hear the tremble of longing in your voice, and he smiles, stroking your hair with one hand and your thigh with the other, since your dress has fallen open from the way you’re straddling him.

“Admittedly, it doesn’t seem like a great plan…mostly because I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. Goddamn, if your pussy isn’t a five-course meal, I don’t know what is. And we both know after I get you rubbing your wet cunt on my mouth and tongue, all over my face, I need it on my cock.”

“Brendon…” you whimper, closing your eyes. There’s a coiling in your stomach that’s been building, tightening with every stroke of his fingers along your thigh. “Bren, you’re seriously going to make me come if you don’t stop talking.”

You can practically feel his soft tongue lapping between your legs at your clit, and your brain feels like a bag of Pop Rocks has been dumped on it.

He keeps talking. “Honey, I could live and die with my tongue in your pussy. My god. You don’t even know. Jesus, the number of times I catch myself just daydreaming about pushing you down into bed or onto the couch, tugging your clothes off and burying my face in you. Like when we were on tour, and you knew how goddamn badly I needed you, so you would just bend over the vanity and wait for me, for my tongue, my fingers, my cock. Fuck, eating you out, grabbing your thighs, pressing closer, working my whole mouth over you until I just had to hear your happy squeal from my fingers fucking you. Shit, babygirl, I’m always fantasizing about that gorgeous pink slickness, luring me in. Begging to be touched. Licked. Stroked. Caressed.”

“Bren, I’m gonna—”

“Such sweet softness, surrounding my tongue and holy fuck; just the taste of you gets me hard. Shit, you’re the best. Kitten, I don’t think you understand how addicted I am.”

“Brendon, please, you don’t understand—I’m clo—”

“The taste, but also how it feels to have you move against me. Feeling you roll your hips in my hands, rubbing your pussy all over my mouth. Sometimes right when you’re getting close, you grab my hair and rock so the tip of my nose presses against your clit—”

“Brendon, I’m fucking close right now; you need to stop talking, or I’m gonna—”

“—while my tongue goes deep. Fuck, the way you thrash and squeal, grabbing my head, riding my tongue, coming on my face, gasping my name; it’s heaven, Kitten. Hearing, feeling, tasting you like that, knowing I made my best girl, my love, feel that damn good, it gets me so fucking ha—are you okay, sweetness?”

You’re breathing shakily, swearing under your breath, hand clenching his on your trembling thigh, and your head is tipped back with your eyes shut. He must have figured it out though, because he sounds delighted when he murmurs, “Kitten, again?”

“Shut. Up.” The words leave your mouth in a sharp hiss. You take his hand, the one on your thigh, and slip it between your legs. His breath catches when he feels your pussy, wet and quivering post-orgasm, and you glare at him. “Don't even try to act surprised, Urie. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

His face is a mixture of arousal and amusement. “Shit, baby. I don’t even know what to say.”

You shoot him a dirty look. “An apology would be a great place to start. And then I would say nothing else for a while since that’s what got us here.”

“Right, but I’m not sorry though.” He’s stroking a thumb over your cheek and lips as he says this, and you bite his thumb. His eyes darken, and you know he’s enjoying the sensation. You relent, internally cursing his proclivity for pain, and he continues.

“I mean, obviously I’m sad that you’re upset with me, but that’s not an apology; that’s putting it all on you, and that’s not fair. But no, to apologize sincerely, I would have to be sorry for the things I said, and I’m not. I regret none of them. I stand by every word that came out of my mouth. You could read everything I said in a court of law, and I wouldn’t deny any of it.”

You huff, crossing your arms.

“And further,” Brendon continues, “it continues to be so fucking hot. I’m really not sorry at all. Please don’t be mad, babygirl. Though please, feel free to bite me again; you know I love that.” You roll your eyes while he presses chaste kisses to your neck. It’s when he starts nuzzling you affectionately that you feel your resolve weaken.

“I’m not mad, B. I’m more embarrassed than anything else.” It’s not entirely true, but he’s being so sweet, and his mouth feels so good on your neck and you’re weak for him. This comment makes him pull back though, and he really looks stunned.

“Baby, no! Don’t be embarrassed! Kitten, sweetheart, please don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s so hot, so sexy.” He’s cupping your face in both hands now and looking at you earnestly. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I promise.”

“Still,” you whimper. “You know I love you more than anything, but please, don’t take advantage of this…new discovery.”

“I’ll behave, sweet girl. Are we okay?” You nod, and he gives you a light, sweet kiss. When he pulls back, he murmurs, “Now let’s go enjoy dinner with your parents.”

You stand up, and when he moves to follow, you hold up one hand. “Hang on. I can’t wear these all night.” You wriggle out of your wet underwear and tuck it into his pocket, settling back down in his lap. You’re fully aware you’re most likely staining his pants, but they’re dark, and you don’t actually care right now. “Your prize, sir.” He uses two fingers to push them deeper into his coat pocket and groans when he feels how wet they are. You can feel his cock twitch under you, and you’re weak again, flush against him.

Brendon has to lift you up and out of his lap, and you can see the reluctance in his eyes. Once he’s placed you gently to the side, you have a mental image of spreading your legs, tangling a hand in his hair, and guiding his mouth right where you both want it most. Your wrap dress has fallen open, and your underwear is already in his pocket; it would be so easy. He’d be so eager: pressing his face closer, grabbing at your thighs and hips, working his tongue over your clit, groaning into you as you hold his head with both hands and grind down on his mouth.

He shifts a little, and you think for one moment about grabbing him by the tie and pulling him on top of you, but you know you can’t. Instead, he stands and opens the limo door, stepping out before reaching back in to take your hand. You let him help you out and pause to look at him softly. “I love you, Bren.”

He smiles back at you radiantly. “I love you too, sweet baby. Come here.” He pulls you to him and kisses you deeply, hands caressing your hips as his tongue explores your mouth. You respond eagerly at first, but after a moment, you regretfully put both hands on his chest and push yourself back and away from him.

You look at him seriously. “We need to behave. You need to behave.” You give him an expectant look, and he nods, holding up three fingers, scout’s honor style. You smile, and he grins, flipping them around and crooking them toward himself while flicking his tongue at you suggestively.

“Fuck,” you groan, flailing a hand at him. “Don’t do that. You cannot do that. Behave.” Brendon just laughs, guiding you into the restaurant with a hand stroking the small of your back.

-||-

Dinner, all things considered, is going well. Brendon has only had to step away once to take a call, and your parents are relaxed and laughing now as the two of you recap some of your more parent-appropriate tour stories.

You’re curled into his side in the booth, and he’s got an arm wrapped around you while the other moves between his bourbon glass and your hand on the table. He strokes the diamond of your ring with his thumb idly while chatting with your parents, and you couldn’t be happier.

You're all halfway through your appetizers and your mom has gone to the bathroom when Brendon and your dad start comparing the steaks they’ve ordered. “Medium-rare is the way to go,” Brendon murmurs, with the arm once around your waist now resting between you so a surreptitious hand can caress your upper thigh under the table. “Such gorgeous pink tenderness; every bite, every taste lures me back for more. God, I would live and die in a steak like that.”

Your eyes widen and you kick him lightly. Even if his wording now is only coincidentally similar to his earlier musings on your pussy, it’s too close for comfort. As a response to your kick, his fingers slip between your legs and move steadily higher. Your head is spinning a little, and you can’t believe how composed he is, practically fingering you in front of your parents. You squeeze your thighs together; his hand can’t move any higher. Still, he finds an advantage when he stretches out two fingers and manages to rub at your clit.

“Stop it,” you hiss while your father is distracted by the server bringing a refill, and Brendon smiles at you innocently as he starts running a foot up your calf. Your dad notices none of this as he turns back and tries to explain to Brendon why medium is a better choice; you’re dying slowly.

Brendon picks up his bourbon glass and takes a sip that’s slightly too big, causing a drop to linger on his lower lip. He turns and meets your eyes as the tip of his tongue darts out to swipe his lip clean.

You’re genuinely afraid you’re going to break a nail from how you’re digging your fingers into his thigh.

He leans in close, nose brushing your ear, and whispers, “Babygirl, you know I like the pain.” He winks as he pulls back, and you close your eyes, willing your arousal away.

Brendon turns suddenly to your father. “Jack, I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be rude—my phone died—sweet girl, will you see if Zack has sent you any updates on our flight for tomorrow morning? When we spoke earlier, I told him to text you if my phone died, and it has.”

Your dad is interested and asks where you’re both headed so, fortunately for Brendon, he doesn’t see the confusion in your eyes. You don’t think you two have any travel scheduled tomorrow. It’s the first you’re hearing about it anyway.

Brendon starts talking extensively about scouting locations for an upcoming video while he takes advantage of your slightly parted legs—his fingers curve possessively over your upper thigh, flexing a little the way you love.

You’re almost positive there’s no travel tomorrow but Brendon sounds so convincing and you’re curious, so you pull out your phone. You feel your eyes narrow when you see—not a text from Zack, but—several messages from Brendon. You realize he wasn’t taking a call; he was texting you because he knew your phone was on Do Not Disturb. You open the messages with some trepidation.

Don’t be mad you know I love you and I just can’t help myself

You cut your eyes to Brendon and see him tacitly ignoring you as he continues to discuss video production with your father and mother, who has just returned. You continue reading, even though you’re sure it’s a bad idea, and you can feel your face flush and your body tense.

Loved having you in my lap in the car, babygirl

the way that wrap dress fell open and left you exposed for me was such a tease (I know I’m one to talk)

I can’t wait to lay you out on our bed and get my face in between your legs, really get your cunt all over me

Got you smeared on my pants, but you know I need that hot pussy all over my face and fingers and cock

Fuck, babygirl, I wanna lick and suck that gorgeous pussy until you’re coming on my face, begging for more

I want to get you so wet for me that I can touch you and I’ll be able to use your slickness like lube while I stroke this big thick cock for my best girl my slutty girl until I’m coming on your tits or your tongue

Goddamn I want to make you come so hard that we have to change the fucking sheets and

There’s more to that message and more texts from him below it, but you can’t read them; you can feel your orgasm rushing towards you and you cannot be at the table for that.

You scramble up from the booth. “I’ll be right back,” you whisper, and bolt for the bathroom. You can hear your parents exchange concerned comments, and then Brendon offers to go check on you. He’s not nearly in the rush that you are but he ends up in the secluded bathroom hallway moments after you.

He finds you leaning against the wall, trembling all over and chest heaving. Your eyes open, and you see him and that face and those lips and you are so close. “Urie, you fucking—”

He cuts you off by crushing his mouth over yours and sliding a hand inside your dress, rocking two fingers up into you. You cry out into his mouth, tugging at his hair, and he just kisses you harder, thrusting his fingers through your orgasm. “That’s it, Kitten; come for me, come on my fingers, think about coming on my cock, you’re such a good girl. Gonna lick these fingers clean later. Fuck, babygirl, I love you so much, I love feeling you come on me; shit, I can’t wait to get you on my face. Kneel over my mouth and ride my tongue while I stroke my cock, knowing I’m gonna fuck you so good, gonna fill you up with my cum; know you love feeling all of my hot cum deep in that sweet, slutty cunt.” He’s murmuring against your lips, and you moan as another rips through you.

His free hand is wrapped around your waist, holding you to him, and your fingers are tangled in his hair as you come down from your high.

His lips are pressed to your forehead, and you’re still trembling against him when you manage to speak. “That was mean.”

Brendon looks confused and you clarify. “Those texts. You knew exactly what you were doing.” He smirks a little and kisses you lightly on the lips. You talk through the embrace, pushing at his chest. “And I am not happy with you.”

“No?” He starts stroking you again with two spread fingers, grinning when you whimper. “You sound pretty happy. You sound like you always do when I’ve got my fingers buried in your pussy, getting you ready to take this thick cock.” He presses forward and rubs his erection against your thigh. You can’t help it; you moan.

“Yeah, babygirl, that’s all for you. Gonna give it to you so good.” You glare and push him away again; he holds up his free hand in surrender. “Or not. My bad. Should we head back to the table or—” Brendon falters when he sees the incredulous look on your face. “Or… am I taking you home now?”

You laugh humorlessly. “Home. We’re going home. You are going to go out there and make an excuse to my parents, take me home, get my order to go or get me food on the way home, and then you have some serious apologizing to do.”

His eyes light up. “Please tell me you mean something utterly filthy when you say ‘apologizing,’ because that’s exactly where my mind has gone.”

“Don’t even joke right now. I swear Brendon, you owe me a big apology. You promised you would behave. You promised you wouldn’t do this to me.”

You feel like you’re about to start crying, and he can tell, because he wraps you in both arms. You go limp against him, tears spilling over, and he holds you tightly, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead.

“Oh sweetheart. I’m so sorry. You’re right; I know, baby. I’m sorry for breaking my promise. I’m so sorry, my love.” His voice is soft, and even when you’re angry at him, you find it soothing and calming.

“Don’t worry, sweet baby; I’m going to take you home and take care of you. My sweet girl, my precious Kitten. I’m so sorry, love. Hang in there, and I’ll get you home. My best girl, my babygirl.”

You look like an absolute mess, so your parents don’t question the need for you to go home when you say you’re not feeling well. Brendon pays the bill and gets your food boxed up before guiding you out to the limo. Once you’re both settled on the bench seat, he opens his arms to you.

“Do you want me to hold you, sweet baby?”

You nod and crawl into his lap, clinging to him and pressing your face to his shoulder. His hands move gently over your back, and he’s being so sweet, whispering to you how sorry he is and brushing soft kisses over the top of your head. Even as you clutch at him, you can tell you’re still mad, and he can too. The tension hasn’t left your body.

Still, you want him holding you. You’ve both always said that your love is more than any other emotion. No matter how mad, how hurt, how frustrated either of you are, you will always love each other more. You know it’s true. You may not always like him, but you will always love him.

Once you’re home, he lifts you easily and makes his way out of the limo and heads to the door. You shriek and laugh a little; telling him you can walk, but Brendon scoffs playfully. “No sweetheart, you said you wanted me to hold you. So, I’m going to hold my girl.”

The process of getting into your house with you in his arms plus the food is a slow one, but Brendon manages it and never puts you down. You’re still wrapped around him, head on his shoulder and legs tight around his waist, and he nudges you gently. “Shower, love?” When you nod, he asks, “do you want me to shower with you?”

At this, you hesitate. Some time alone might be good. He can read your hesitation, but you can tell he doesn’t take it personally. He carries you to the bathroom, sets you on the counter, and turns the shower on. Then, after testing the water, he returns to you, kisses your forehead softly, and murmurs that he loves you, he’ll be downstairs, and you can come join him whenever you’re ready. You squeeze his hand as he leaves, and he squeezes back with a small smile.

The shower is hot and relaxing and everything you need it to be. When you finally get out and see he’s set out your favorite of his t-shirts for you and a pair of what you both call your ‘snuggling panties’ (because of their ultra-softness) on your bed, you’re feeling far more at ease.

You dress quickly and head downstairs to find him reclining on the couch in your favorite pair of his sweatpants. His hair is damp; he must’ve showered in the guest bathroom. “Damn, you’re sexy,” you comment, aiming for levity in your voice as you lean against the railing. He turns and grins, seeing you bare-legged with the hem of his shirt barely keeping you covered.

“Hello pot, I’m kettle.” He extends a hand and beckons you closer. You saunter over, dropping onto the couch and curling up on top of him, legs spread over his hips, your head on his chest. “I haven’t eaten yet,” he tells you. “Thought we’d eat together.” You nod, snuggling into him. “Are you hungry, babygirl?” You shake your head a little, breathing in the scent of his body wash. “Then let’s eat later,” he decides, stroking your hair.

You nod, and he kisses the top of your head. “I’m sorry I was mean and broke my promise,” he whispers, and you look up at him. You had some time to think in the shower, and you know he means it.

“It’s okay, B. I may have overreacted. There are worse things you could’ve done.” He frowns, running a finger down your cheek.

“Don’t say that honey. You were upset because I made you a promise that I didn’t keep, I pushed your boundaries further than you were comfortable with, and really, I betrayed your trust. You didn’t overreact.”

You smile a little, realizing he took the time to think in the shower too. You squirm up to kiss him softly now. “You’re being quite hard on yourself, my love. Here’s where I’ve landed, after some time alone with my thoughts. I always feel so close to you after you make me come, so intimately connected, and when you pushed and broke your promise, it made me feel like our sex life was just a game or something to you; like it was a challenge or entertainment.” Brendon goes to protest, and you press a gentle finger to his mouth. “But I know you, Brendon. I know you love me; I know how much our intimacy means to you, and I know how seriously you take our love and our life together. You would never purposely disrespect me or our intimacy. As soon as you realized how upset I was, you stopped and you took care of me, took care of us. You are a good man, Brendon Urie, and you are mine. Tonight wasn’t your finest moment, and it took you a bit longer than ideal to realize how serious I was, but you took care of me in the end, and you showed me how much you care. I love you. So, I’m good. Are you good? Are we?” He smiles, blinking back tears, rubbing his nose against yours.

“I’m good. We’re good, sweet baby. I love you so much.” He holds you close, and you sink into his arms. He strokes your hair, and you sigh happily. There’s a long moment, and then he asks in a low voice, “would now be a bad time to ask about my dirty apology?”

You raise an eyebrow, and he scoots you higher so he can kiss you deeply. You run your hands through his wet hair, tugging happily, and he groans into your mouth while rolling you both over. “You know,” he murmurs through kisses, “my dirty apology, where I show you how much our intimacy and your orgasms mean to me. How much I love being close to you like this.” His hands are roaming, and you grin against his mouth, telling him you’d love a dirty apology.

“Excellent,” Brendon mumbles, kissing a lazy path down your neck. “Now, where would Madame like her dirty apology?” He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Madame has the choice of our lovely sectional with the romantic glow of the tv, or our exquisite bed with soft candlelight. The house recommends the bed, but Madame is, of course, free to choose.”

You giggle at his feigned formality and pretend to think. “Madame believes she will take the house recommendation of the bed.”

He nods in satisfaction and stands up, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you back up the stairs. You tighten your legs around his waist and sigh happily when his lips find your neck to start pressing open-mouthed kisses.

You’ve finally made it to the bedroom, and he places you at the head so you’re reclining against the pillows. He moves to the end of the bed and goes into what appears to be some form of child’s pose, except he’s looking up at you. “Bren, what are you doing?”

He grins and starts to wiggle back and forth. “Pouncing.” You’re about to ask another question when he does just that: pounces and grabs you by the hips. You shriek with laughter when he starts playfully growling and nibbling at your thighs; he stretches over your body, buries his face in your neck while making ridiculous noises, and lightly bites at you. “Om nom nom nom nom,” he growls, tickling your sides.

“Brendon, what the hell?” You’re gasping for air, tears streaming from laughing, and he looks up at you seriously.

“I’m eating you, pretty girl. Om. Nom. Nom. Nom.” With each sound, he presses a kiss to your neck, slowly moving lower and lower. You’re wiping at your eyes, still laughing.

“Or is this not what you had in mind?” His eyes twinkle up at you playfully, and you shake your head. “Oh Kitten, I know what you really want. I won’t even make you say it, even though I love to hear it.” He inches his way back down your body, lifting your shirt up and leaving soft kisses over your newly-exposed skin as he goes. “You want my tongue on your pussy, licking and lapping at your clit until you’re soaking wet for me, and I can slide my fingers in. You want me touching and tasting you until you can’t stand it, don’t you?” You nod weakly, lacing your fingers through his hair, and he smiles softly. “Well, I live and love to please you, babygirl.” Gently, he slides your panties down, spreads your legs wider and presses his lips to the inside of your thigh. You let out a quiet moan and he looks up at you. “I don’t want to tease you anymore. I’ve tortured you enough. Tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

You sigh happily, rolling your hips up to his mouth. “Just make me feel good, Bren. Make me come.”

He grins. “That, my love, I can do.” His tongue is moving over you in soft strokes while his thumbs massage the inside of each thigh, and his eyes have slipped shut as his mouth works. He’s being so gentle with you, and you think you might pass out from how great it feels. “Is this good, Kitten?” His voice is soft, and you nod languidly. “Just want you to feel good.”

“Trust me Bren, I feel really good.” His tongue is delving deeper now, and his thumbs have moved farther in to spread you wide for him. He increases his pace and pressure a little bit, moaning against you when you grip his hair. “That feels amazing,” you whisper, and he nods. “Baby—Bren—can you—” your words are coming in fragments; you can feel yourself getting close already— “softer with your tongue and add two fingers?”

“So fucking sexy, you knowing what you need to get off, Kitten.” He takes your requests and plays with your clit lightly with his tongue while his fingers press into you, stroking. You arch your back when his fingers hit a good spot and he does it again, gazing up at you from between your legs.

You’re whimpering, rocking your hips gently into his touch, and he watches you. “Is this okay?” He murmurs the question into your pussy while his fingers slide back and thrust deep, and you manage to suppress the low moan that bubbles up in you.

“Fuck yes, Brendon; it’s so good.” Your fingers tighten in his hair, and you spread your legs wider. “But I need more, more of your mouth,” you tell him, and he nods.

He’s slipping his fingers out of you to go back to covering you with his mouth, softly, alternately between slowly letting his tongue roll out against your folds and sucking lightly. “God, yeah,” you whimper, and he keeps going, wriggling in closer to get more access.

“Fucking love eating your pussy, babygirl; fuck, you are incredible,” he groans when he pulls back to breathe hard, resting his head against your thigh. You look down at him, his lips and chin slick, eyes dark with want, and you can’t help but moan at the sight. He licks his lips and stares up at you. “God, will you sit on my face?”

“Fuck Bren, as if I’d say no, with you down between my legs and looking at me like that.” You’re incredulous and willfully let yourself be rolled over to your stomach so you can pull back and sit up. He crawls up the bed into your place, settling down into the pillows and adjusting one under his neck.

“Commere, Kitten. Come ride my tongue.” He’s breathing hard again, pupils fully dilated, and you sling a leg over him and kneel over his chest. Carefully, he guides your hips into place so you’re reclining against his collarbone, and he can curve an arm around behind you to give you more support.

“Fuck yes,” he moans as you settle into place, and he goes back to the soft licking and sucking that had you close before. His tongue is rolling over you, really tasting you, and he brings his other hand back, resting it on your hip. “Can I?” He lets the question hang as he applies pressure to your hip with two fingers. You nod eagerly and he adjusts his hand to slide his fingers in and spread you wide for his tongue. With more access, he can really stroke you and tease your clit with light flicks of the tip of his tongue. You cry out with pleasure as he rocks you closer at a better angle with his arm. “God, babygirl, can’t wait to feel you come all over my face like this. All over me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you hiss, closing your eyes. “I’m really close already.”

“D’you need anything different, or are you gonna come?”

“Don’t fucking change a goddamn thing,” you whisper, moaning again when he returns to his ministrations. “God, yeah Bren, right there. Suck just a lit—sweet fuck, don’t stop, fuck fuck fuck oh—God yes!”

It’s hitting you hard so he curls his fingers forward and you can’t stifle your scream. “Fuck, Brendon, yes!”

“Ride my face; don’t hold back, let yourself feel it.” His words are muffled by your pussy, but you catch the gist and give in, rubbing and bearing down on his mouth. He keeps up with you, tongue and fingers working hard, and you’re thinking that you might come again when he sucks gently. “Give me one more, come for your man one more time. Soak my face once more, pretty baby.” His words push you over just as he reaches up to brush a slick thumb over your nipple. The sensation rips through you and you’re panting hard, hands in his hair.

“Holy hell.” You manage to whisper, coming down from it. You glance down and see his dark eyes sparkling from between your thighs and you can feel the wet curve of his smile. “Fuck, Bren, I love you.”

“I love you too, Kitten. Am I forgiven?” He looks eager as he licks over you gently and into the corners of his mouth, collecting your taste.

“If I say yes…”

“Then I’m making you come again on my tongue before I flip you over and give you my cock, fucking you so good and leaving you shaking and clinging to me after you’ve soaked our sheets.”

“Yes.” You’re a little breathless, already clinging to him like he wants. Brendon grins as he flexes his fingers into your hips, and you shriek happily when he slides his tongue over you again.

“Gonna make it so good for you, Kitten.”

#brendon urie #brendon urie smut #brendon urie fic #brendon urie fanfic #brendon urie fanfiction #brendon urie x reader #my work #revised version

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misson-impossible · 2 years

Text

Still not over it-

#ryan ross x reader #ryan ross #panic at the disco #brendon urie x reader #brendon urie #jon walker #jon walker x reader #spencer smith x reader #spencer smith

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dirty-urie · 2 years

Text

Stubble (Claim Me)

1.5k words

Warnings: oral sex, penetrative sex, condomless sex, unwanted hickeys

You wrinkle your nose disapprovingly as Brendon comes out of the bathroom. He raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, pretty girl? You’re normally happy to see me naked.”

You scan down his body and flush at the sight of his cock, half-hard. You wonder if he touched himself in the shower, or if seeing you really gets him going that easily. You are naked after all. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the nudity. Keep that part,” you laugh, standing up from the hotel bed to press yourself against him.

He puts one hand on your ass and the other on the back of your neck. “Then what’s wrong, darlin’?”

You run your index finger down his cheek. “You didn’t shave for me,” you pout. “You always shave for me when I visit. I love your face all soft and smooth. Mmm, and when you smell like aftershave,” you sigh dreamily.

He presses a kiss to your forehead and the long stubble presses into you slightly. “I’m sorry, I have to stay unshaved for my show tonight. Part of the stage persona. But I’ll shave as soon as I’m done, deal? You’ll get a whole three days with your smooth man.”

You giggle. “Okay, fine. I’ll put up with stubble.”

Brendon’s nostrils flare. “Oh, baby. Put up with the stubble? Tsk tsk, y/n. Challenge accepted.”

You bite your lip, and he squeezes your ass. Your cunt begins to buzz in anticipation. “What challenge?” Brendon’s a competitive little shit, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s turning facial hair into a challenge.

Brendon suddenly scoops you up and drops you on the bed. You bounce a few times, and Brendon’s eyes darken at the sight of your tits moving up and down. “Fuck, you’re a work of art.”

You whimper, needing him. “Brendon, cock.” You reach for it in vain, but he’s standing at the foot of the bed, a hand wrapped around each of your ankles. Too far for you to get to his cock.

“You’ll get me.” It’s a promise. “But first I want to demonstrate to you the many pleasures of stubble.” He pushes your legs apart easily and crawls between them, his breathing heavy. “God, love this fucking cunt,” he groans.

He nuzzles your inner thighs lightly, his not-quite-beard tickling the sensitive skin. “Oh,” you gasp. He sucks on your thigh and nibbles on the skin while his scruff brushes your skin. “Oh.” You feel Brendon smirk against you, but you don’t mind because he’s already making you feel so fucking good. He moves to your quivering pussy without taking his face off of you, the rubbing hair stinging slightly and leaving a pleasant tingling feeling behind. He licks and sucks the skin of your mound, and you rub against his face desperately, relishing the extra sensation against you from his rough hair. He finally slips his tongue between your folds, tonguing your clit. “Fuck,” you groan. “I’ve missed this goddamn tongue.”

“Good,” he says, and it comes out muffled by your slickness. Luckily, you’re used to figuring him out with a mouth full of clit. “Because I’ve missed this sweetness,” he groans, and you peer down to confirm that he’s grinding against the bed. He pushes two fingers into you, crooking them expertly.

His tongue is on your clit, his fingers are buried in your pussy, and his stubble is rubbing against the skin inside your thighs. All of the sensations coil tightly in your stomach, hot and intense.

“That’s right,” he encourages, speeding up his fingers. “Come for me, baby.”

You flush, embarrassed at how well he can read you. “Brendon,” you whine. “So good.”

“Come,” he coaxes, and you moan deeply, squeezing his face with your thighs. “Good girl,” he praises breathlessly, crawling up your body to lie on top of you. His erection presses insistently into your thigh, but he doesn’t seem overly needy. You admire his self-control.

Your thighs are warm and burn slightly with all of his abrasion. You relish the reminder of him between them.

You crane your neck, silently begging for kisses, and he acquiesces easily, letting you suck at his lips before pressing your tongue in needily. You gasp against his mouth when you feel his face, hair soaked with your arousal. He’s rubbing yourself back onto you, and your whole body feels utterly claimed by him. “Fuck me,” you plead, and Brendon lines himself up before pressing inside you.

Pain intermingles with pleasure hotly when he rubs against the irritated skin of your thighs, and you groan, devouring his lips, tasting the mix of him and yourself on his tongue. He fucks you quickly, needing you to come so he can get ready for his show. He brings a hand between your bodies, stroking your clit. “Good girl. So good for me,” he praises when your walls spasm around him. Jolts of pleasure wrack you, and you moan, drawing him closer to you.

“So good, Brendon,” you cry before you resume kissing him sloppily. You kiss down his cheek to his neck, sucking lightly.

Brendon inhales sharply. “Baby, baby, no marks,” he reminds. You pout, and he kisses you in consolation. “You can mark me up as much as you want once the tour is over,” he promises, and your pussy spasms at the thought. “You’re squeezing my cock perfectly. God, I’m so fucking hard.” He throbs inside you, and you grab his hair.

“Fuck me harder,” you groan, and Brendon squeezes his eyes shut before he picks up his pace.

Brendon pants hard, and his face is flushed. You know what he’s about to say before he does. “Baby, gotta come soon,” he warns. “You know how eating your pussy gets me.”

“Oh I know.” You nibble his lip. “I'm about to come, baby. Don’t worry.” His thrusts falter, and you sink onto his cock, clenching around it hard. “Fuck, fuck, amazing.”

Brendon comes with you, warm semen spilling into you as ecstasy raptures his face. “I love you, baby,” he sighs, rolling off of you and slipping out.

You roll out of bed, and come drips out of your cunt onto your rubbed inner thighs, and you feel like his. “Bren,” you sigh, sated, and Brendon looks at you expectantly with his gorgeous brown eyes, “I can get behind stubbly sex again. Need be.”

He grins, eyes glinting. “And maybe I’ll get behind you next time.” He winks as you half-walk, half-limp to the bathroom to clean up. He’s only been gone on tour for two weeks, but you’re still slightly sore from being out of practice. You don’t use any internal toys while he’s gone. None can replace his perfect cock thrusting into you. Plus your thighs tingle a tad unpleasantly when you rub them together.

You pass by the mirror on your way to the shower and do a double take. “BRENDON,” holler, storming out of the bathroom. You flare your nostrils and put a hand on your hip.

Brendon bites his lip sheepishly. “Yes, beloved?”

You gesture to your lower face. “What is this?” you demand.

“…beard burn.”

You huff and walk back into the bathroom indignantly, studying the pink irritation all over your cheeks and chin in the mirror before rejoining your boyfriend in bed. “Brendon,” you whine, “everyone is gonna know we’ve been fucking.”

Brendon growls and his nostrils flare. “Fuck, baby.” He grabs his hardening cock. “I kinda like that. Let everyone know you’ve been claimed as mine.”

You pounce on him, sucking hard right above his collar bone. A place that should be covered by his shirt, but could easily become exposed if he’s not careful. You nibble down his chest and suck several little marks in a horizontal line above his dick. Once again, covered by clothes in theory, but you know how his pants ride down and his shirt rides up.

Brendon bucks up his hips under you as you work, fully erect now. He moans and doesn’t bother to protest, just reaches between your bodies to touch himself.

You sit back on your knees to admire your handiwork. Six unmissable dark marks on his abdomen.

“Y/n, what happened to no marks?” he finally has the sense to pant.

You let out a single dry laugh. “Tit for tat, baby boy. You claimed me, and then I claimed you.”

Brendon shudders in arousal, his erection leaking before he regains his composure and smirks at you. He cradles your breast in his spare hand. “Fair enough, love, but I’d prefer tat for tit if you don’t mind. After all, these tits are fucking incredible.” He leans forward, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and his beard hairs tickle you delightfully.

“And they’re all yours. Claim my tits, Brendon.”

#brendon urie smut #brendon urie fanfiction #brendon urie x reader #brendon urie imagine #my work #long post

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sluttyemopuppyboy · 11 months

Text

Average nightly activities include getting off on the idea of Brendon Urie pissing himself in those tight leather pants and begging for the reader to humiliate and punish him

#brendon urie #brendon urie smut #Brendon Urie X reader

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bookdaddysworld · 6 months

Text

Reader x Ryan Ross(protective)

*writing for a friend enjoy*

"Alright cut! That's lunch!" called the director.

The music in the background stopped and the lights went down as everyone stopped what they were doing to go and eat.

You walked away from your fellow performers to see your boyfriend Ryan waiting off to the side with a smile.

"Hey babe" He said.

"Hey!" You said as you greeted him with a hug.

You two walked and talked as you headed to the makeshift cafeteria that had been built on set. The music video for "I write sins not tragedies" was being filmed and you were lucky enough to not only be a dancer on the set but the girlfriend of one of the members, Ryan Ross.

"What do you wanna eat?" he asked.

"I trust your opinion."

"You sure about that?" he replied quirking his brow.

You laughed "Yes I'm sure".

"Okay, I'll be right back" he chirped as he walked away to the line.

While you waited you kicked your feet up on to a bench and put in your earbuds to listen to some music on your iPod. You weren't paying much attention so when you felt a tap on your solider you didn't expect to see someone other than Ryan. Instead it was a fellow performer who you had briefly been introduced to when filming started. You remembered his name was Tom.

"Hey Y/n" he said tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

"Oh um hey Tom, what's up?"

"Ya know just tryna find someone cool to hang out with".

"oh okay" you laughed.

You tried to go back to listening to your music but he persisted with his attempt to converse with you. Seeing as Ryan was taking forever you humored him and had a casual conversation. But you kept looking around wondering where Ryan was and Tom noticed.

"Who are you looking for" he questioned.

"Oh no one there's just so many people it's crazy."

"Oh yeah there really is but you're pretty easy to pick out"

"Oh?"

You laughed awkwardly but grew a little uncomfortable as you tried to figure out if he was trying to hit on you. You continued to carry on the light conversation but it was hard when he kept getting bolder.

"So what are you doing after this?"He asked.

"um probably hanging out with some friends" you say trying to be vague on purpose.

"Anything set or.."

"um kinda"

"Well maybe you should ditch your friends and come hang out with me" he said getting closer to you on the bench.

"I have a boyfriend you know"

"I don't see him" he said putting his hand on your knee.

Okay so he was a creep, great. You went to push him away and tell him to get lost when somebody from behind pulled him away. It was Ryan.

"Excuse me why are you touching my girlfriend?" Ryan said with a hard stare.

Tom eyes practically bugged out of his head as he stuttered out a response that required one braincell.

"Oh this is you're girlfriend?! I'm sorry I had no id-"

"No" Ryan cut him off "She told you she did and you still tried to come on to her.

Tom stumbled as he got off the bench I was sitting on. Attempting and failing to look cool as he bullshitted a response to my very angry boyfriend.

"listen dude you gotta understand man to man, you gotta shoot your shot when you can."

What a piece of work.

"Well dude you gotta understand that when someone tells you they have a boyfriend that you need to fuck off."

"why so serious it's not like she a 10 out 10 why are you so angry."

"The fuck did you just say." Ryan said quietly.

Ryan looked like he was about to lose his shit, which as hot as he looked was not what needed to happen right now. So you tried to interject.

"Alright that's enough, Tom you need to leave you're making a fool out of yourself"

People had started to notice the scene that was unfolding and you could see a security guard a ways away starting to notice the situation. Tom failing to hide his embarrassment turned on you.

"You need to learn when to shut up bitch!" Tom pushed you away and you hit the ground.

Before you knew it Tom was on the ground too and Ryan was seemingly hell bent on beating his face in.

You wanted to tell him to stop but was torn between that and letting that asshole get what he deserved.

Before you could make up your mine the security guard you had seen was tearing a slightly disheveled Ryan off of a bloodied Tom.

Ryan was breathing heavily and his hair was ruffled. He had a slight bloody nose and his knuckles were bruised but was otherwise unharmed.

The same could not be said for Tom

I looked at the security guard and saw a name tag that said "Mike".

He looked at me and asked "I saw what happened are you okay?"

I could only nod because my attention was on Ryan who was now in front of me helping off the ground.

"Are you okay" he asked.

"Yeah I'm fine, you're bleeding"

"I'm fine and you're lying your hands are all scraped up"

"I honestly think that's the least of my worries right now"

He chuckled and rolled his eyes

" Come on let's get you cleaned up" I said grabbing his hand and leading him away from the screaming shitbag flopping around on the ground as Mike tried to restrain him.

I managed to find a first aid kit and lead him to a family restroom. I washed my hands off while Ryan waited patiently. He went and sat on the counter while I opened the kit and stood between his legs to begin cleaning and wrapping up his hands.

"You know" he said in a quiet tone "I should be cleaning your hands".

I scoffed "I washed them I'm fine, you are the one who needs first-aid".

"Well still you shouldn't have to do thi-"

"Oh my god", I stopped cleaning to look at him in the eye, "enough just let me help you".

"Okay" he said dropping the subject as I finished wrapping his hands and went to wipe the blood off his face.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that asshole" he said breaking the silence again.

"You have nothing to be sorry about". I paused then laughed before saying "plus you did one hell of a job at getting him to leave me alone".

We both laughed as I finished wiping his face and put down the wipe. When we stopped we just stared at each other in a silence that was steadily filling the room with tension.

He really did look good. His hair was still ruffled and he was so pretty you couldn't stand it.

"You know I'll always try my best to be there for you right?" he said grabbing my waist and pulling me closer to him.

I smiled as my stomach filled with butterflies "yeah".

He looked at my lips then back at my eyes then smiled.

"Good" he said leaning in a closing the gap between our lips.

A warmth starting at my lips radiated throughout my body as our lips slowly moved to together. I slowly brought my hands up his back and tangled them in his hair as he deepened the kiss, thoroughly taking my breath away. My mind became hazy as he became more passionate pulling me flush against him and running his hand up and down my body. I had forgotten where I was and was well on my way to forgetting who I was when there was a knock on the door.

I pulled away quickly, breathing heavily, as I said "occupied" while signaling to Ryan to be quiet.

He just looked amused. Well actually he looked far more than amused, he looked hot as hell with his hair messy and lips swollen, but I was too distracted by whoever was currently banging on the door.

After I was sure they walked away I turned back to Ryan.

"We should probably go."

"Already?" he said with a sad and stupid pout that made me laugh.

"Yea but" I said pulling him close to me again by the collar of his shirt "we can finish this later".

He smiled and looked me up and down

"Can't wait."

The End

*Did y'all get the five nights at freddies reference with mike the security guard or are you lame. Anyways y'all like it?*

#ryan ross x reader #ryan ross imagine #panic at the disco #the young veins #brendon urie #jon walker

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misguidedswagger · 2 years

Text

trust: chapter 2

w/c: 3.4k

trust masterlist

entire masterlist

Y/n said nothing as her older brother and his friends continued to buzz about their very new signing. She hummed to herself as she placed the cake in the oven before cleaning up the kitchen, washing the dirty dishes, utensils, and then drying them. Y/n pursed her lips before she turned to face her brother once again,

“Bren?” She asked softly, resting her hips on the counter as she crossed her arms. Her brother lifted his head and quirked a brow towards her, still looking at Spencer as they conversed about some of the songs they would possibly be changing up for their new sound, like Time To Dance, Camisado, and Nails For Breakfast.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Brendon teased his baby sister. With a huff and roll of her eyes, Y/n pushed herself off the counter by her hips, making herself busy. “Was gonna ask if you needed your laundry done. But after the nickname, fuck you, do it yourself.”

Spencer snorted at her comment, “Damn, kiss your mother with that mouth?” Another eye roll later, Y/n sent an annoyed middle finger to Spencer, checking the timer she’d set on the oven. “I’ll be back in like fifteen minutes, losers.” The girl spoke before running upstairs to her room, grabbing her laundry and throwing it into the machine.

Ryan’s gaze trailed after her slowly and rested on the stairwell straight ahead of him. He cleared his throat before walking to his friends sitting at the kitchen’s bar. Ryan opened his mouth to contribute to the conversation before Brendon interrupted him. “I think we need to celebrate our tremendous feat. Whaddaya guys say, huh? What if we throw a mega banger in celebration of our signing?” Brendon wiggled both of his elbows into both Spencer and Ryan, causing the two to laugh softly.

“Here?” Jon asked, a brow raised. Brendon spun around in his chair and nodded before leaning back and crossing his arms. “Hell yeah, here! This is where the magic happened, baby! Obviously it’s gotta be here!”

A set of hands and a chin found their home on Ryan’s shoulders. He looked at the girl who was suddenly back downstairs among him, her brother, and their friends, “What’s gotta be here?” Y/n queried, once again completely oblivious to the fact that she was making Ryan’s heart race a mile a minute. Ryan would usually focus on the words leaving the girl’s mouth, but right now, he had to focus on calming himself down so Y/n wouldn’t hear or feel his speedy heartbeat, or notice his sudden loss of breath.

Spencer spoke up now, his arms crossed over his chest as he spun to face the younger Urie, “Your big brother wants to throw a celebratory signing party. You down?” He smirked at her before walking over to the fridge and grabbing a soda from the second rack.

With a small hum in thought, she asked softly, “I’m invited?” Ryan spoke before he even realized he did,

“Yes!” He shouted, before shrinking down in embarrassment, a tinge of red fanning over his cheeks. He held his face in his hands, muttering apologies. “I’m sorry—Just…” He didn’t even need to look up to know his friends were staring at him intently, and Jon was giving him a stern, almost motherly, look. Clearing his throat, the guitarist continued, “Just surprised at the fact that you’d think you weren’t invited after everything you’ve done for us. You proofread our-“

Y/n interrupted now, “Your.” She whispered, standing up straight as she offered a reassuring shoulder squeeze. “My lyrics.” He corrected sheepishly,

“You made food for us when we had long sessions, made us hot chocolate, coffee.. God, you’ve always supported us, you’ve always been our number one fan…” Ryan trailed off, having to stop himself before he got too ahead of himself and started going on about his love and overall adoration for her.

Y/n had a hand over her heart and opened her mouth to speak before Spencer spoke up again, “And not to mention, you always made sure we got rest of some sort, whether it be small breaks, actual sleep itself, or you just talking to us to bounce ideas off of.” He took another sip of his soda before going back over to Jon and Brendon.

Jon spoke up now, “Ya always made sure we were hydrated too, ran to the store for us when we needed paper, pens, or other bullshit like that. Food, etcetera, etcetera. You’ve been a great help, kid. Ya need to hold yourself to a higher standard.”

Isn’t that right? Ryan thought to himself, nodding in agreement with Jon, subtly looking towards him. Before Y/n could thank the boys, her brother walked to her side and threw his arm around her shoulders, giving her a noogie as he gave his thanks to her,

“What would I have done without my little sis always making me food, doing my laundry, and my chores so I could be with the guys? You’re the best, Y/n. We really love you, and of course we want–no, need you at this party! Couldn’t have gotten this far without you!” With a large smile, the youngest in the room nodded.

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll start getting the house ready-” She gave her brother a quick squeeze before slithering out of his grip to start preparing for the party. Ryan stopped her though and grabbed her hand, causing Y/n to turn towards his voice, “Woah, woah. We are gonna get the house ready together.”

Unbeknownst to Ryan, Spencer grew wary of his bandmate’s hands on the frontman’s little sister. Jon, completely oblivious to Spencer’s glare, nudged him, “Older Urie’s gonna send out invites and all that shit, but me ‘n Spence’ll help out, don’t worry.” Jon smiled, walking towards Y/n and Ryan. The girl grinned and gave Ryan’s hand a quick squeeze before moving forward to hug the others. Ryan hadn’t realized how long his hands had lingered on Y/n until she was out of his grip, she just felt so much like home. It was scary.

As Y/n flew into Spencer and Jon’s hugs, she hadn’t noticed the very obviously fake smile on Spencer’s face. No one had the opportunity to before an annoying ringing sound echoed through the kitchen. Y/n pulled away and clapped her hands excitedly,

“Yay! Cake!”

Y/n was in her room getting ready for the party as she heard new voices under the blaring music entering her house. She looked in the mirror, brushing invisible specks of dirt off of herself, smoothing her outfit down as much as she could. With a frustrated sigh, she held her face in her hands.

“You look beautiful. What’s stressing you out?” A voice asked her from the doorway, causing her face to shoot up out of her hands. She stayed staring at herself in the mirror, staring at him through the mirror. He kicked himself off the door frame as she spoke.

“I don’t know, I guess this party just feels different because of the event it's celebrating.” Ryan walked up behind her and let his hands rest in his pockets as he looked her in the eyes through the mirror, “Hey, you’ve got nothing to stress over.” Tentatively, he placed his hands on her shoulders, flicking his eyes back to hers, silently asking if he could continue. With a silent nod from Y/n, Ryan began to rub her shoulders, much to Y/n’s pleasure.

“If anything, it should be us stressing, it’s our signing party.” The elder reassured, causing a smile to finally find its home on the girl’s face. She smiled brightly at Ryan and turned around and gave him a tight hug. “Thank you.” She said softly and sweetly. Ryan smiled and let his chin rest on her shoulder as he embraced every inch of her hug. His hands found solitude on her waist as he pulled her in tighter.

“For the record, Ross, you look very handsome yourself, and you give incredible hugs.” Y/n complimented, letting go of the hug when she heard one of her favorite songs playing downstairs. She grabbed Ryan’s hand and dragged him down the stairs with her before forcing him to dance with her.

Ryan laughed and Y/n spun messily to the song playing, but when she grabbed his hand, he let his body take over. He gave her a proper spin, causing her to giggle, a sound Ryan swore he could never get over. Y/n rested her hand in Ryan’s, her other on his shoulder. She stopped laughing as much and only smiled, maintaining eye contact with Ryan the entire time, and he did the same.

When the song ended, Y/n smiled wider and stepped back, “Thank you for going along with that. That was really fun! Want a drink?” She pointed towards the drink table, and Ryan nodded. “You continue dancing, Urie, I’ll grab the drinks.” He grinned at her, causing her to cheer and nod, already dancing to the next song.

With a small laugh, Ryan walked over to where Y/n had previously pointed, grabbing two red solo cups. He was in the process of pouring their drinks when he felt an elbow in his side. Ryan snapped his eyes up to the culprit, not surprised to see Jon connected to the elbow that’d nudged him. “I saw you two lovebirds. Finally spill the secret?” Jon teased, causing Ryan to turn his face away from his friend’s burning stare, in an attempt to hide his blush. “Holy shit! You still haven’t told her!” Jon basically yelled, causing Ryan to shove his shoulder,

“Dude, shut it!” He pleaded, quickly glancing around to make sure no one else had heard their conversation. Jon laughed heartily before shaking his head, “Man, you gotta tell her! Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, which won’t happen, it definitely will go somewhere, she has a right to know!” Jon said seriously, offering an encouraging smile. He placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and rubbed it, “Trust me, Ryan. It’s better to be rejected than to regret not saying something.”

Jon and Ryan’s conversation was interrupted as another person walked up, “Hey, guys! Crazy turn out, huh? Told ya I’m a god at invites!” Brendon placed a hand on both of their shoulders and smiled, “What were you two talking about?” Ryan tried not to show his panic when Brendon asked that, and before Ryan could stutter through an excuse, Jon bit the bullet and saved Ryan’s skin.

“Was asking Ryan for some advice about the girl over there.” Jon gestured lazily to a group of girls in another room, taking a sip. “Wanna walk over with me Bren? Ryan’s too nervous to just walk over with me and I need backup.” Jon offered, looking at Brendon hopefully.

Brendon blew a raspberry at Ryan and held an “L” on his forehead to him, “Of course I’ll go with you Jon, I’m not a pussy.” He laughed before clapping Ryan on the back, “Kidding, I get it. Enjoy the party man, I know Jon certainly will.” He smiled.

As the two walked away, Jon turned his head and winked at Ryan before turning back around quickly. Ryan smiled a tight smile and nodded at Jon before turning to walk back with his and Y/n’s drinks. However, as he turned to walk back in her direction, he collided with another body, startling him. He turned back around to see he’d bumped into the girl he’d been on the way back to. With a laugh, she took a cup from Ryan, “What took ya so long?”

Ryan gestured to the room that Jon and Brendon were currently in, “Oh, ya know, your brother.” He chuckled softly, taking a sip of his drink. She laughed softly and nodded, “Yeah, he can be quite the handful sometimes. I’d know.” The two of them laughed together before walking over to another corner of the room to get out of the way of the people dancing in the middle of the living room.

Ryan leaned against the wall, drink in hand, free hand either in his pocket or gesturing with his sentences, as Y/n was standing, slowly sipping her drink, more listening than talking. Their conversation was going pretty well when all of a sudden, a guy slammed into Y/n, spilling his drink all over her, causing Y/n to shiver at the sudden cold liquid seeping through her shirt.

The drunk guy looked up at Y/n and muttered an apology before doing a double take, “Oh, holy shit. You’re Brent’s ex right?” Y/n’s face paled and Ryan stood up straight, eyeing the guy angrily. Clearly, the drunk moron didn’t realize that no one wanted to talk about that, “Yeah, you gotta be. I remember your brother or whoever goin’ batshit on him in the middle of that party, almost two years ago now, right?”

Ryan shoved him, “Get the fuck away from her. She doesn’t wanna talk to you.” The man looked up at Ryan now, “Go home, Ronnie.” Ryan snarled at him. “You’ve had enough to drink, anyway.” Ronnie looked up at Ryan and raised a brow,

“Since when are you two dating?” He flicked his eyes over to Y/n, who looked to be on the edge of tears. “You settle for Ryan here just because you missed fucking one of your brother’s friends?” And that was it, the wall that Y/n had built up had come crashing down with waterworks.

Y/n ran upstairs, sobbing. Ryan shoved Ronnie into a wall and immediately followed after her, calling her name. “Y/n!” He watched her door slam shut, and against his better judgment, opened the door without knocking, “Y/n, look what he said-” He looked up at her shriek and saw her shirtless, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” He put his hand back on the knob to close it, but before he could reach the knob, she spoke up.

“Wait! Don’t… Don’t leave me.” She pleaded softly, breaking Ryan’s heart. He held a hand over his eyes and still kept his eyes down, though it was pointless to do both. He shut the door behind him and stood in the corner with his back to her. “I won’t leave but I won’t look. Just tell me when you’re done, okay?”

Y/n let out a small hum of affirmation and Ryan sighed shakily, waiting patiently. After a minute or so, Y/n pulled him off the wall by his shoulder and uncovered his eyes. “You change qui-”

Ryan wore a nervous smile on his face as he finally brought his hands off his eyes. He froze when he realized what he was looking at: a shirtless Y/n. “Oh-my god.” he stuttered out, his cheeks turning bright red as he turned his face away, “Y/n, I-” Her soft hand reached up to his cheek and turned him back towards her. “This is w-wrong, Y/n, you’re not thinking right, you’re upset, you-I don’t want to take advantage of you, I-”

She hushed him and smiled, “You’re not taking advantage of anyone, Ryan. Promise.” Ryan swallowed hard as she took a step closer to him. The boy’s breath grew more jagged as his crush stepped closer and closer to him. Ryan finally took things upon himself, he placed his hands on her waist and kissed her deeply as Y/n’s hands moved to his hair.

Ryan’s heart jumped to his throat. This was all he’d ever wanted, to be able to kiss Y/n, to hold her in his arms, this was the moment he’d dreamt of for as long as he could remember. So why did things feel so strange? He’d imagined this situation playing out several times and he’d planned everything down to a t, how he’d hold her, exactly how he’d kiss her, how softly he’d-

Ryan’s train of thought was interrupted when Y/n brought him back to her bed, yanking his shirt off of him and shoving him down as she sat on her knees in front of him. Y/n brought her hands to Ryan’s belt and looked up at him through her eyelashes. Ryan’s lips were trapped between his teeth as he watched her tear-jerkingly slow movements. She shuffled his pants down and Ryan raised his hips to help her, looking deep into her lust flooded eyes–matching his.

Ryan smiled down at her, raising a hand to pet her hair, “Is this your first-Oh, fuck.” Ryan’s own moans cut off his question as his head fell back as his hand moved to clench the bedsheets under him. Now, by no means was Ryan a virgin, in any sense of the word, but there was something about Y/n that just made everything feel like it was his first. He could only hope he was her first, but by the way she was skillfully moving her head up and down, followed by the swirling of her tongue, he was positive he wasn’t.

He decided not to focus on that, but on the fact that this was even happening. Ryan moaned her name, “Y/n, fuck.” He let his eyes flutter shut and Y/n felt a zap of electricity shoot from her mouth to her toes. She loved the hold she had on him. She added her hand to Ryan’s cock and from that point on, his groans got even dirtier. Y/n’s heart began to race in arousal and anxiety, she’d never had anyone wound around her finger so tight, but it felt great.

Ryan’s moans were heavenly. Y/n wanted more and more, so she did everything she knew how. She looked up at him and started to bob her head faster, licking up his cock to his tip. She flicked her tongue across his slit and Ryan swore he’d never moaned louder; she was so much better than he could’ve imagined, and he imagined a lot. They were both grateful for the booming music downstairs, or else they certainly would’ve been caught.

Ryan sucked in a deep breath through his teeth and let a hand find its way in her hair and he tugged on it softly. Y/n moaned softly, sending a delicious vibration up Ryan’s cock. “Fuck, Y/n, you’re so good at this~” At the praise, she slightly sped up her movements and continued to look up at him, smirking when his face twitched, “Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum.” He grunted, Y/n kept her head down and let him spill into the back of her throat, riding out his high with him. Involuntarily, Ryan bucked his hips into mouth with another small moan.

He looked down at her and caressed the side of her face, running his thumb over her cheek. “So beautiful. You gonna spit it out?” Y/n instead stuck her tongue out of her mouth and showed him his cum before swallowing it.

Ryan’s face lit up in a blush and he licked his lips before pulling her off the floor by her face, kissing her deeply. With a hand on the back of her head, he stood up and lightly pushed her on the bed before unclasping her bra with one hand, causing her to blush and turn away. “Guess this isn’t your first time.” Ryan smiled softly and turned her face back towards him, “No, but I know this’ll be my best time.” He leaned down and kissed her deeply, sliding off her bra in the process. He sat up now, his knees on either side of her. Y/n swallowed hard and tried her best to maintain eye contact, but it was evident that she was anxious.

Ryan immediately picked up on this and did a double take, “Shit, are you a virgin? We shouldn’t-” Ryan went to step off of her, but Y/n grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“I want you to be my first, Ryan. Please.” Y/n begged softly, causing a whole other side of Ryan to take over.

“Do you have a condom?” He asked, his hand on her cheek again. The girl sat up and shook her head, “Bren has some in his nightstand drawer. You can go grab one.” She spoke timidly before Ryan nodded, basically sprinting to her brother’s room.

She giggled at his speed, but when he was back and shut the door, it sunk in that she was really about to do this. Ryan resumed his position above her and shuffled her underwear down, before running his fingers up and down her sides.

“Are you ready, Y/n?”

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french-vanilla-in-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍! ´ˎ˗

𝐡𝐞𝐲! 𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝟏𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬! 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬! 𝐢'𝐦 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐭. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, *𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞!* 𝐢 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝟐𝟎 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬! (𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞!)

𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜! 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞 -- 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐮𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐗 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫 --- 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

- 𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖆! ♡

˗ˏˋ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒! ´ˎ˗

"𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕..."

➹ 𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖓𝖔𝖔𝖓! send me the name of a character plus a timestamp and I'll write a short blurb for you! (ex- castiel, 2:30 am)

➹ 𝖎 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖘! write a short letter to a character and I’ll send you their response! (ex - dear sherlock, I miss you…) - please don’t write anything longer than 100 words!

➹ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖆 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖆! I’ll give you three p!atd songs and a music video based on your blog’s theme! (if you’re an anon, give me a few fun facts about yourself!)

➹ 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊! For my gorgeous, gorgeous moots, I’ll be sending off handwritten notes! xxx

➹ 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖗! Let me ship you with one of my random crushes! I’ll whip out a beloved from my collection. Just tell me a bit about yourself!

➹ 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖆 𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖊! Send me a few songs you think I’d like!

➹ 𝖘𝖚𝖌𝖆𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖗! send me the name of a character or celeb and your aesthetic - I’ll make you a mood board! - open for all fandoms! - even those I don’t write for! (ex: cottage core, loki?)

➸ ➸ 𝖗𝖔𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝟐𝟎'𝐬! ➸ ➸ It’s my birthday soon, so send me questions you’re curious about!

˗ˏˋ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒! ´ˎ˗

"𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒊 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒇𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚..."

➹ only one event per ask, please! but you can totally request more than one party favour!!! <3

➹ be sure to add the title of the party favour before sending anything in. Just so I can keep track! (ex - 𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖓𝖔𝖔𝖓! - let’s do... sam and dean, 11:30 am) :)

➹ You can find a list of fandoms and characters I write for HERE. Refer to this if you’re requesting a blurb or letter. Mood boards are open to all fandoms and celebs!

➹ I’ll leave submissions open for the next while a few updates here and there. I’ll start sending out posts from December 20th - December 31st!!! Thanks so much for participating!!!!! Again, I just want to say how much I appreciate you all!!! Much love!!! <3

➹ tagging a few lovely moots!!! you’re all so wonderful, and I’m so grateful that I get to interact with you all!!! <333 : @goldencherriess @starstruck-loner @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me @lumosouls @thespiritoflife @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @classickook @astudyinlaura @baby-bloos @natti-ice @misaverawrites @lucywrites02 @bakerstreethound @frostandflamesfanfic @aephereal @starryeddie @foxmulderlovebot @andthevillainshallrises

➹ 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#french vanilla's roaring 20's #birthday bash and 1k milestone #panic! at the disco #brendon urie #sherlock fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #The x-files fanfiction #sherlock x reader #castiel x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #stephen strange x reader #fox mulder x reader

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lilicy-secrets · 1 year

Text

The End Chapter Six

I opened my eyes tiredly what I assumed was a few seconds later. I saw the funnel cake stall lights shining brightly. Strong arms were wrapped around me, and I felt safe. I looked up expecting the one person who I could feel safe around, but instead of seeing Brendon, I saw Dallon. "Hey, Sunshine you're awake," he said when he looked down at me. We continued moving as he carried me to the car. He set me in the back. Then he went around and sat beside me and cradled me in his arms. I looked ahead not feeling as safe as I did when I thought it was Brendon, but I couldn't just tell Dallon that. "Thank you for saving me," I said quietly.

"Oh, it wasn't me. Brendon found you, but handed you over to me to keep safe. That way he could tell off those girls. He'll be here in a few to take back over. Honestly, I'm beginning to think that maybe-. HEY!" Suddenly Dallon was pulled out of the car by someone dressed in black.

The person blended into the darkness, another shadow figure appearing person walked up holding him down as the other seemed to punch him. I felt my muscles become lead, but I pushed through it and jumped out of the car assuming the people were after me. "I'm over here!" I looked to see them leave Dallon, who was barely moving, and started to dash towards me. I took off running pushing the leaden feeling out of my muscles. 'I'm not going to continue to be useless.' I ran through the fair trying to find a cop. I looked behind me to still see the shadow people following me through the brightly lit, merry place. I recognized the shapes and stopped and looked at them head on. "Robert, Jane, I should've known you wouldn't give up."

"Do NOT disrespect your parents, BITCH!" My father's gruff voice was slightly muffled.

I felt the years of pain, abuse, and absence of all affection build up. Brendon had showed me what I had been missing out on; I saw it all as it seemed to flash before my eyes, and all I felt after these two days was rage at my parents and my helplessness. "I'M NOT A BITCH!" I hollered as I started to get close to my parents. They started removing their masks. "I'M NOT USELESS!" I felt all of the heaviness that weighed every fiber of my body down and the dizziness dissipate as I progressed. "I'M NOT A WHORE!" I was now right in front of them. I saw rage in their eyes, but I felt that my hatred was stronger. "AND I REFUSE TO BE YOUR FUCKING PUNCHING BAG ANYMORE!" Jane's hand went to grab my hair, but I punched her in the nose blood started trickling out after impact. Robert grabbed my wrist and I gave him a nice, swift kick to his groin. "Neither of you will ever touch me again or my friends. It's time you drug addicted, worthless, no good abusers get the fuck out of my life, and I swear if you ever show yourselves in it again you'll no longer be walking the streets. I was never that stupid; you think because I never fought back that you were safe. Wrong! I was waiting until I had the right strength to get back at you. I took pictures of every bruise, cut, and non documented hospital stay. I kept proof of your drug use too. Unless you want to go to prison, heed my warning." I looked at the bloody, horrified face of my mother and the pained, worrisome look my father wore before pushing past them.

"(Y/N)," Brendon's voice rang through my head, and I turned around to see him holding out his arms in a hug. Behind him stood Spencer propping up a slightly bloody and bruised Dallon. I couldn't help but run into his arms. I felt proud, safe, and happy.

After a few minutes we went to the car silently, but inside Dallon started laughing. "It looks like (y/n) no longer needs a hero, Brendon. What are you going to do?"

He smiled as he drove, "you'll just have to wait and see on that one, Dallon."

"Whatever you choose to do, I'm sure it won't be as shocking as the news that came right after Sarah left you," I heard Spencer say while scoffing.

I looked at Brendon with intense eyes. "What news did you give them after Sarah left you."

"Oh, sweet, (y/n/n), that is for the guys to know and for you to find out. By the way, when is your birthday?"

I looked at him confused, "in a few months, but what does that have to do with anything?"

He smiled and once again said, "you'll see."

~Time skip brought to you by Brendon's party planning~

I had been to the doctor a few times now, and today was going to be, supposedly, the last day. The best birthday news if you ask me. Well, Brendon had woke me up by slightly shaking me and calling my name gently. Upon opening my eyes, I saw he was only wearing a frilly, pink apron and a pair of black boxers. He had made me breakfast in bed. I had bacon, eggs, toast, and, of course, coffee. He ate with me with a goofy grin spread across his face. After we finished, he removed the plates and trays from my bed, so I could get ready for school. I put on a white button up tee shirt and black skirt that almost went to the top of my knees. Then I slipped on my flats and walked out with my bag to see Brendon dressed in black skinny jeans, sun shades, black loafers, and a black leather jacket. I started going to the kitchen to make my lunch, "why are you dressed up so early this morning?"

"It's your birthday, so I'm driving you to school. Also, don't make any lunch because I'm taking you out. Then we have to go to the hospital. Next we're going to dinner, and we'll end up at my favorite bar. Now let's go," he said grabbing my hand and leading me out the door. In the car there was a necklace with a silver guitar pick on it, with a tag reading, "For (y/n)" hanging from the rear view mirror. He put it on me, and took me to school. There, in every class I had various presents. One was a pair of earrings, another was a bracelet, and the last class had new head band resembling a tiara in it. When I got out for lunch, Brendon had a balloon, a card, and a box of chocolates. "Someone sure does love to spoil people on their birthday."

He just smiled and took me to a sandwich shop down the road for lunch, and then he dropped me off at the hospital. When he got back he held out a strapless, (f/c) dress, matching shoes, my make up bag, and a new purse. He let me change in the hospital, and we were on our way to some resturant. He acted completely normal, and the entire time I just thought how lucky I would be if he was in love with me. Today seemed like the best day to do it, but I was waiting until we got home. After dinner and desert, he took me to the bar where he had set up a big party with all his friends and mine. Patrick Stump and his wife, Pete Wentz and his spouse, Brendon's band, and my best friends (b/f/n), (b/f/n) were all there. The place was decorated in my favorite colors, a big birthday banner and balloons everywhere, and smiling faces made it even more special. Brendon stayed by my side the whole night and we even danced a couple of times. Then right after midnight I blew out the candles on a cake and opened gifts from everyone, but they couldn't compare with everything Brendon had done for me. At about one Brendon put the presents in the car, and I guessed we were going home. I was wrong. We pulled up to the first place I had met Brendon, the coffee shop. It looked closed, but Brendon had the keys. We went inside, and there was an vanilla frap and a cup of coffee with two chocolate chip chocolate muffins in between them at the booth we met in. I smiled and felt happy tears come to my eyes. We sat down, quietly and began sipping at our drinks.

"Brendon, thank you for the most perfect day in my life."

"Well, (y/n), it was my pleasure. Oh, you have to try Marg's muffin," he said sticky a bit in my mouth. "They always have a surprise inside."

I looked down to see a simply silver ring in the center. I looked at it confused.

"(Y/N), this isn't the last perfect day I want to give you, and I'm not asking for marriage, yet. But, on the day I met you, I fell in love with you, and I planned then to get you to fall in love with me."

"Brendon, you were too late that day... because I already loved you," I said looking into his eyes beyond happy. He leaned in and stole my first kiss. I blushed, but eagerly kissed him back.

"Does that mean you'll be mine?"

"Of course," I said smiling then I heard an elderly voice behind me.

"It's about time, Brendon, she's perfect for you."

I looked over to see Marg, and she smiled going back upstairs. Then Brendon's delicate fingers made me look back at him, and he kissed me and I felt all the love in the world in that one moment. I knew that this is where I wanted to be. He had been my hero, and he always will be. I smiled into the kiss and wrapped my arms around his neck imagining our future.

#brendon urie #panic! at the disco #x reader

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loverontheleft · 1 year

Text

Artist (revised)

Revised 02/2023

Brendon x reader

warnings: mild consensual bondage, language, mild dominance, fingering, oral, protected sex (yay condoms; make good choices), now with fluff! and I think that might be everything.

9.1k words

-||- the present -||-

Oh fuck, Brendon— please,“ you moan, fingers grasping for the silken ties holding you in place and your hips arching.

A pair of dark eyes flash up at you in amusement as he nibbles gently at your inner thigh. "Patience, baby,” he chides gently, running his tongue over the bites. Brendon’s fingers softly stroke your skin as he lifts his head to look at you. “This is still okay, isn’t it?” He must notice you struggling against your confines.

You can’t find the words to express how turned on you are, how more than okay you are with being tied down and spread for his own enjoyment; the sensation from the light touch of his fingers is shooting electricity straight to your core, but you nod emphatically. He gives you a small grin and chuckles to himself as you bite your lip.

“Good. I’m not done exploring.” You can’t stifle your sharp whimper of pleasure at his words, and he smiles again, stroking your face tenderly.

Releasing your lip from its confines, you make steady eye contact with him. “I want you.” You’re reasonably confident he knows this, given your prone position and willing participation all night, but it can’t hurt to remind him.

His eyes darken ever so slightly, and his lips return to your inner thigh. “You’ve got me,” he murmurs against your skin. Without another word, both fingers and tongue move into the delta of your hips, and you’re speechless again as he dips his tongue into you, running the length of your pussy. His fingers move to your hips, gently applying pressure as his tongue works your body into a frenzy heretofore unknown to you. He looks up, locking eyes with you and you whimper. He’s obviously enjoying himself and that might be the most enjoyable part for you.

Well, no. The way his tongue moves flat against your clit, stroking and teasing and urging you onward toward orgasm, is definitely the most enjoyable part. But seeing how much he loves eating you out is a close second. You inhale sharply, desperately wanting to tangle your hands in his hair. His eyes are closed now, dark hair matted slightly to his forehead, and you attempt to raise your hips to give him better access. You know that if he continues like this, you’ll come in no time. He pulls away from you right as you think this, and you can’t help the whine of disappointment. “Don’t stop,” you beg. His thumbs move in circles over your hips as he gazes at you.

“Don’t come yet. Savor it.” With those words, his mouth moves decisively north. His tongue runs over your lower stomach, drawing small patterns against your skin as you writhe under him. Upward, upward, until his hands encircle your rib cage and his lips and tongue find the underside of your breasts. You’re breathing hard, chest rising and falling as he captures your left nipple in his mouth, fingers of one hand moving to stroke the right while the other continues to caress your side. Your head is spinning, hips desperately bucking—you need more.

Brendon shifts to kneel over you, pressing a strong thigh in between your own and you bear down against him—the friction is exactly what you need. A simultaneous groan between you both before his lips continue their journey upward. He’s kissing your neck, hands moving over your breasts. You roll your head back, giving him full access to your collarbone and neck. His tongue traces a path up to your ear before teeth latch onto your earlobe, tugging gently. He nuzzles against you, whispering that he loves feeling how needy you are, loves how you hump his thigh desperately, loves feeling your wet pussy on him, and he promises that he’s going to take such good care of you.

“I know,” you manage to respond before his mouth is on yours. It’s gentle, almost sweet—you pause in your grinding against his thigh—your lips touching as his hands move to the small of your waist. After a moment, his lips urge yours apart, deepening the embrace, and you can’t help remembering how this night began.

-||- flashback -||-

You hadn’t intended on sticking around after the benefit auction ended. Galas were not your thing, and your strapless bra was torture. You’d stayed past your speech thanking everyone for attending, and your PR manager had nodded, giving you her blessing to sneak away. You worked your way through the crowd, eyes down to avoid tripping over the hem of your very heavy, intricately beaded dress. It should have been no surprise that you crashed into him, and your heel slipped out from under you—his reflexes were quick though, and he caught you with one arm around your waist.

“I’m so sor—” you were halfway through an apology when you looked up and your words caught in your throat. “Oh. You’re—” but you couldn’t finish the statement; you were too stunned.

He gave you a warm smile, setting you on your feet and offering a hand. “Brendon. And you are?”

You shook it, slightly in awe as you mumbled your own name. You prided yourself on your general ability to remain levelheaded in most situations, but if there was one man who could break you, it was him.

“I don’t mean this as rudely as it’s probably going to sound, but…why are you here?” You gestured around the ballroom at the tables your event planner had supervised the arrangement of earlier that morning and the large banners with different cats’ and dogs’ images emblazoned across them with bold numbers announcing your foundation’s rescue and adoption success. He shrugged, following your gaze.

“I love animals. I want to help them. This foundation lets me do that. Why are you here?” You smiled back at him now.

“This is my foundation, actually. I’m not big on parties, so now that my PR woman gave me the go-ahead, I was planning on making an Irish exit, but I think I’ve ruined that,” you explained, putting your weight more evenly on both feet and wincing at the pain. He immediately looked concerned, and you waved a hand. “I’ll be fine, there’s a lounge in the back where I got ready; I’ll go and ice it and elevate it and whatever.”

He shook his head. “I’m not letting you walk alone and fall again. You obviously need me.” His tone was flirtatious; you laughed and accepted his proffered arm, admitting to yourself that it was certainly a helpful and very appealing arm. “Lead the way,” he told you, and you set off for the private lounge.

He pushed open the door and followed you in, looking around the room with interest. It was a hybrid lounge and dressing room, and you’d scattered the space with cosmetics and various gowns, indecisive until the last minute. You blushed. “Sorry it’s so messy. I thrive on chaos.” You dropped onto the couch and leaned over to release the straps of your shoes.

He shook his head, sinking down into the couch beside you and offering a hand toward your foot. “No judgment. Chaos—so, is that why you chose to cash in your trust fund and start a foundation for strays who just need a second chance?”

You blinked at him, raising your injured foot ever so slightly and allowing him to lift it into his lap so he could free you from these damn shoes. “How did you know that?” The question was, admittedly, a silly one. You’d founded a very successful charity, one that was gaining more and more attention than you could really process. The fact that he was not the first celebrity you had seen that evening was a testimony to that fact.

He gave you a small smile. “I do my research. I like to know exactly where my money is going.” Instinct kicked in and you shifted slightly, thanking him for his donation. He waved your thanks away, correcting you, “No, thank you for taking my money and doing something important with it. You said you had ice?” He was looking around the small space and you pointed helplessly to the ice bucket in which the unopened bottle of champagne still rested with a towel dangling over the edge.

He rose, placing your foot gently on the couch, to cross the room and returned with the towel as a pouch of ice. He really was beautiful. You gazed at him in casual amazement as he sat down again and lifted your ankle into his lap to apply the ice and inspect it carefully. “The good news is,” he told you while rotating your ankle slightly, “I don’t think it’s anything more than a twist. Your swelling isn’t bad and there’s no bruising. But I’m not a doctor so…” he looked up and shrugged.

“Do you have a lot of experience with damaged bones?” He chuckled, pretending to be offended.

“Well now I know you’re not a fan,” he joked, moving the ice so it fully surrounded your ankle. “Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of clumsy moments.”

You shook your head. “I am, actually.” Brendon looked up at you quizzically and you continued. “I’m a fan, I mean. I’m freaking the fuck out on the inside. You’re incredible. Probably my favorite artist.” He glanced at you with equal parts gratitude and caution, eyes steadily on yours while you cursed internally for not being more aloof. “Don’t worry, I have excellent self-control.” You smiled faintly and gestured at your elevated ankle still in his grasp. “Besides, you could definitely outrun me.”

He laughed, nodding. “Well, that’s reassuring.” He shifted slightly and lifted the ice to check your ankle again. “So, tell me everything. How did you start this thing? What did your parents say? What’s the best part? What’s the worst part?”

You relaxed back into the couch, letting him lift your other foot into his lap and tried your best to answer all of his questions. He seemed genuinely interested in your foundation and how it worked, and this was a good way to ensure you stayed in control of your feelings.

You had been talking for at least an hour, each leaning in more and more until your head rested on your knees to gaze up at him and he was curled into the couch facing you, one hand stretched across the back of the couch and the other resting over your ankle protectively. He had freed your good foot from its shoe as well and occasionally, almost idly, he would begin massaging a foot, his eyes never leaving yours.

You were struggling. He was funny, charming, kind, an animal lover; he was insanely attractive, and you were far closer to him than you had ever imagined being possible. He hit a particularly good spot in the arch of your foot and—you moaned and quickly bit your lip to stifle it, embarrassed. His eyes were on your lips when he glanced down at your ankle and jerked the towel away. “I’m so sorry. I’ve gotten you all wet.”

You choked, shifting slightly, feeling the truth of his words between your legs. Still, you couldn’t believe what he’d said. How did he know? “What?” You stammered, and he met your eyes with some amusement, realizing his own double entendre.

“The ice. It’s melted. I must have gotten you all wet.” He repeated in a slightly different, more insinuating tone. He gave you a slow, seductive smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing and saying. You leaned forward again, gazing at him steadily, feeling infinitely more confident from his, what you hoped was, flirtation.

“I kind of want to kiss you.” You couldn’t have stopped the words if you’d tried. His eyes darkened and his grin faded. His original demeanor, lighthearted and fun, was gone and had been replaced by one of desire.

“I want you to kiss me. Come here.” Brendon released your ankle and shifted, patting the couch closer to him. You moved closer and gasped as his hands tangled in your hair. Your lips brushed over each his; it was tentative and gentle, and you were hyper-aware of your rapid pulse. He brought you even closer, lips teasing yours, and he whispered against your mouth, “I want to really kiss you.” You nodded; he murmured his thanks and kissed you firmly.

It was still simple and chaste, until he nudged your lips apart and pulled you closer, tongue seeking out yours. You couldn’t help it; you let out a soft moan and pressed yourself closer still. The kiss quickly turned heated and urgent. You cursed yourself for this long dress that was keeping you from getting in his lap as his hands cautiously moved over the curve of your exposed cleavage in the dress. You arched into his touch, and he looked up into your eyes.

With a hand on the back of your head, he lowered you slowly back to the couch. “Is this okay?” His voice was rough, and his eyes were heavy as he watched you reach for him.

“More than okay,” you assured him, tugging him down on top of you. “Kiss me.”

Brendon stretched out over you, propping himself up with one forearm while the other hand roamed your body. Even with your dress keeping you mostly prone, you could still rub back against him, and you could feel how hard he was. You were contemplating how forward it would be to stand up and shed your dress, but instead you focused on getting him undressed. You pushed at his jacket, and he let it fall easily to the floor. With shaking fingers, you freed each button of his shirt until he could slip his arms from it, and you stared at him shirtless above you.

“Is this real?”

“This is real,” he reassured you, and he sank down lower into the embrace, holding you to him. His hands were all over you, and you were scratching at his back, desperate as his kisses increased in fervor and desire. You’d never been so turned on just from making out with someone, but you were sure if he’d been able to get his hands under your dress, he’d make you come with just his touch.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been kissing when he pulled back, staring down at you. His face was flushed, lips swollen, and his hair was a mess; you could still feel his cock pressing insistently into the delta of your thighs, and you were acutely aware of how wet you were.

He cupped your face tenderly, stroking a gentle thumb over your lips. “You’re stunning, and fuck, I want you so badly,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. There was a rush of heat from your head to your core, and you felt dizzy with desire. “You can tell me to leave, or we can stay here, and just keep making out. That’d be great.” He opened his eyes and looked at you intently. “Or you can come with me.”

“Come with you?” You thought you knew what he meant, but you didn’t want to assume. He kissed you again, like he couldn't imagine doing anything else, breathing hard and nibbling down your neck.

“To my home,” Brendon clarified, his voice husky and his hands still stroking over your body. “I want you to come home with me. If you come home with me and we keep going, I promise I’ll make you feel so damn good. I’ll make it so fucking good for you, baby.”

Your entire body tensed at the term of endearment, and you guided his mouth down to yours for a desperate kiss. It was through the urgent, messy embrace that he mumbled, “but you can tell me that you want us to stay right here, not do anything more than this, or you can just tell me to leave. I’ll call you a cab, so you get home safely. I don’t want to push you. Fuck,” and he pauses, groaning your name and pressing his hips to yours. “I want you, but I don’t want to push you.”

“How will we get to your house?” You asked the question a little breathlessly as you considered the optics of leaving your event with him, and he cupped your face and brought you close for another kiss.

“I’ve got a private car waiting out back.” The words were murmured against your mouth, and you clung to him. You both knew you’d made up your mind.

“Take me with you.”

-||-

If his driver was surprised at the extra passenger when the two of you climbed into the back of the limo or noticed that Brendon’s shirt was buttoned wrong, he didn’t show it. Brendon had you pulled in close beside him, one arm slung low around your waist and caressing your side as you rested your head on his shoulder, and the other reaching across to your thigh, where it lingered possessively.

The drive was a long one, taking you out of the inner city and out into the more peaceful and private neighborhood developments. As the lights of the city faded, he guided you into his lap. “Need your mouth,” he groaned, and you whined, reaching down to lift the heavy hem of your dress so you could straddle him. He groaned again when you pressed down against his cock, and the friction he created by thrusting up into your soaked panties had you tugging his hair and moaning his name.

The drive continued, and you desperately considered unbuckling his pants and riding him. Before you could do that though, the limo pulled to a stop. Then, as you passed through a large security gate, Brendon pressed warm kisses down your neck. “We’re here,” he told you softly.

Once the limo parked, Brendon took your hand and opened the door, helping you out of his lap and bringing you out into the fresh air of the night. His house towered behind him, but you were focused on his face and his arms around you. “How’s your ankle?” He sounded concerned, but you waved this away.

“I’ll be fine.” You gave him a sly glance, raising your eyebrows a little. “Besides, I don’t plan to be on my feet much for the rest of the night.”

“You’re damn right,” he murmured, lifting you easily and locking an arm under your thighs. “Unless you need anything first, I’m taking you to bed,” he told you, and you nodded eagerly, urging him to take you to bed. He approached the garage, tapped in a code on a panel, and carried you inside. Part of you was curious, wanting to look around the house as he made his way toward the stairs, but his neck and jaw were more interesting; you occupied yourself with pressing hot, urgent kisses over his skin. He groaned, gripped you tighter, and wasted no time getting you upstairs.

Once he hit the second-floor landing, he nudged open the closest door, laid you out on his bed, and then stepped back to lean against the wall opposite you. “Do you want anything? Need anything?”

“Want you,” you said simply, and you beckoned him closer with the curl of one finger. He moved to the bed eagerly, and you moaned happily when he laid you back, crawling on top of you, and kissed you feverishly.

“Tell me to stop,” Brendon said, and he pulled away to stare down at you. “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop at any point.”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “Please, don’t stop.” His mouth was on yours again, his hands exploring more desperately, pushing down the dress and your bra to gain better access. You made quick work of his tie and pushed his suit jacket off of his shoulders, fingers searching out the buttons of his dress shirt as his lips moved down your neck.

“Don’t stop,” you repeated, struggling with the third button of the shirt. Without breaking contact, he moved a hand and, grasping the shirt firmly, pulled roughly and sent buttons in all directions before shrugging out of the now torn material.

“Fixed it,” he mumbled against your chest, tongue exploring and teeth occasionally nipping gently at the exposed skin, testing your reaction. You yelped in pleasure, arching your back to press closer, running your hands over his own back, exploring the muscles and smooth skin you found. He paused, rolled off of you, and ran a fingertip along the neckline of your dress that was now pushed down to your stomach. “I want this on the floor. Is that okay?”

You stood immediately, not even flinching at the faint pain from your ankle. He shifted on the bed, sitting up, and reached behind you to the zipper. With one deft move, your dress pooled on the floor, and he pulled you back into his lap.

You gasped in pleasure, feeling his erection pressing through his dress pants as you straddled him. His hands relieved you of your bra and you pressed yourself more firmly against him as his mouth returned to your chest. Instinctively, without thinking, you started grinding down on his cock, the friction setting your whole body on fire. He responded just as enthusiastically, thrusting back up against you, a hand grasping your hip firmly to control your pace, all while he murmured soft praise against your skin.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered, before tangling your hands in his hair to bring his mouth up to yours. You kissed him again. “I need you.” It was true. You weren’t sure if it was one thing or, more likely, a combination of everything; his tongue exploring your mouth, his thumbs making small circles against your hips, the strain of his erection…but you felt the pressure building and knew you were close.

He must have known it as well because he gently lifted you off of his lap and, shifting carefully, laid you down on the bed. He stood beside the bed, slipping his belt free and stepping neatly out of the pants. You didn’t know if you’d ever been worried about coming from the sight of a man getting undressed above you, but it was a very real possibility as he shed his pants. He left his boxer briefs on and sat back down on the bed. You moved to straddle him again, whispering in his ear how badly you wanted to come for him, how close you were already.

“Not yet.” He murmured, stroking the side of your face. He must have seen the frustration and desire in your eyes. It was these things present in his own that had you slipping out of his lap and off the bed to kneel in front of him. Your fingers traced up his thighs, tugged his boxers down, and wrapped a hand around his flushed cock. It was hot and heavy in your hand, and you wanted to feel that weight on your tongue. You wanted to feel that warmth as he filled you.

“Oh, baby. No.” Brendon’s hands stopped yours and he searched your face, realizing how you interpreted his refusal to let you come. “You’re going to come first, and then several more times, before I come. Getting a guy off is easy.” He smiled ruefully and continued, his eyes hooded with lust. “The female orgasm is an art and I intend to remain your favorite artist.”

With that, he drew you back up to the bed and reached for the tie you’d discarded earlier. He looked at you, the question in his eyes, and you nodded, still feeling the thrill of him calling you ‘baby.’

“It’s okay.” You shifted onto your back and raised your arms above your head so he could secure the tie around your wrists and bind you to the headboard. He glanced down at you and you nodded again, testing the restraint. “It’s good. Not too tight. It’s good. I think it’s so hot, having you tie me up.” You grinned and he looked at you for a moment, running his eyes over your entire body.

“You’re hot,” he corrected as he adjusted the tie a little. “Tying you up just emphasizes it. You know you can stop me at any point, but here’s what’s about to happen, assuming you don’t stop me.” He swung a leg over your body to hover over you completely. “I’m going to explore and taste every inch of your body.” A thrill of pleasure sent a shiver through you.

He continued. “I’m going to make you come with my fingers and when you think you can’t take any more, I’m going to do it again with my tongue.” You were biting your lip now, desperate for him. “And then,” he paused to lean down to run his tongue along the shell of your ear. “And then, I’m going to fuck you so good that my name is the only thing you can think or say.”

You shifted with pleasure. “I should warn you; I was an English major. I know a lot of words.”

Brendon laughed, running his hands down your stomach to rest at the edge of your silk underwear. "Then I’d better get to work.” In one fluid motion, he had your panties around your ankles and two fingers stroking you gently. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he murmured, moving his free hand to caress your face.

You pressed your cheek into his touch, both of you letting out a small gasp of pleasure as he slid both fingers in. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, all the while steadily working you with his fingers. “More?” He asked, and you nodded desperately. He increased his pace, adding his thumb to apply gentle, steady pressure to your pelvis. “You feel so good,” he said as he stretched out beside you, going deeper than before, eliciting a moan from you. “I can’t believe how wet you are for me,” he continued, and your pleasure spiked as the walls of your pussy clenched around his fingers. You leaned forward to capture his mouth with yours.

After indulging in the kiss, matching your urgency and passion, Brendon pulled away. “You like this?”

You nodded quickly, spreading your legs slightly and rolling your hips up into his hand. “I love it. All of it.”

Brendon grinned, nipping at your neck. “Good. Because you feel so good and I am gonna lose my damn mind over how warm and wet and tight your pussy is, how I want to just bury my cock in you and how I am going to make you come like no one before.”

You were biting your lip, eyes closed while he talked. You were close, and his words were pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Oh fuck, don’t stop,” you begged, looking at him imploringly.

“You like me fucking you with my fingers, don’t you? You love how deep I go, how good it feels when I spread them apart, getting you ready for my cock. You love my thumb on your clit, rubbing and rubbing until you can’t stand it and you just explode.” His words fell right against your ear, and you could feel his cock pressing against your thigh.

As promised, he was spreading his fingers within you, stretching you wider. His thumb started over your clit, and you let out a small shriek of pleasure. Brendon smiled against your neck, increasing his pace, and biting gently from ear to collarbone. “Gonna come for me, pretty girl?”

You were writhing against him, desperate for release. You were so close, but you needed more. “More. More. A third.” You couldn’t form full sentences, but you knew a third finger would make you fall apart.

He dutifully added his ring finger to his index and middle, slowing his pace but thrusting harder and deeper, thumb pressing firmly against your clit. “I should have known you needed three,” he told you in a low voice. “I saw you, and I said to myself, ‘that’s a woman with high standards.’ Wasn’t thinking about fingering you at the time, but the high standards translate.”

You laughed but quickly lost your breath. He was right. You were right; his fingers were pushing you right there. "Fuck, Brendon. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop. Get me ready for your thick cock, can feel you, want you, fuck me with your fingers; oh shit, Brendon, it’s so good.”

“Come for me; imagine you’re coming on my cock, baby.” It was as though your body had been waiting for his permission. Within a split second, you were falling apart, gasping and bucking against his hand. He doubled his speed, intent on dragging you over the edge now that he had successfully pushed you there. You had your head turned to one side, pressing your face into the pillow, muffling your cries of pleasure, but as they subsided and you were trembling with the aftershock of your orgasm, he gently pulled you back to awareness with delicate, gentle strokes. “Next time, I wanna hear you come. No muffling or stifling.”

His mouth was on yours, tongue dipping and caressing yours. You reflexively moved your hands as though to cradle his face but stopped short. You whimpered in frustration, tugging at your restraints. He froze against your lips, and you were quick to speak. “I’m okay, it doesn’t hurt. I promise. I just want to touch you.”

He smiled now. “And I promise you will have your hands back soon.” His own hands were moving up over your body, feather-light touches that were driving you wild. “How do you feel?”

You couldn’t stop the lazy smile that spread across your face; you were luxuriating in the afterglow. “I feel amazing.” With almost no hesitation, he brought three fingers back to your core, rubbing gently. Instantly, you were gasping, rolling your hips to meet his touch. “Fuck, I’m sensitive…if you don’t stop, I’m going to come again.”

Brendon looked down at you thoughtfully, three fingers moving at half speed now, fucking you hard and slow. “I don’t see that as a bad thing. Is that a bad thing?”

You shook your head, and he grinned, kissed you again, and curled his fingers slightly. Your head tipped back, and you let out staccato moans of pleasure unashamedly. His fingers moved steadily within you, thrusting and twisting and rubbing, and you were struggling to catch your breath. You’d had skilled sexual partners before, but no one like Brendon. He was right. He was going to make you come like no one else.

“I need you.” The words fell out of your mouth again and he caught his breath, resting his forehead against yours. He was so beautiful, so indulgent, and you could see in his eyes that he needed you too.

“I’m right here. You’ve got me, baby.” He began working over your neck, biting lightly and soothing the area instantly with the tip of his tongue. You were shaking, your legs spreading for him, hips arching and rolling, desperate for climax. “Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he whispered, and you cried out again. “You feel amazing.” His fingers, his tongue, his words, his erection pressing into your thigh—it was all too much.

It was almost embarrassing how soon you were going to come again, and you tried to control it—deep breaths, in and out. Focus on anything but him and the bliss he’s giving you. Your head rolled back, and you closed your eyes.

Brendon whispered your name, and your attention was back between your thighs. “I want to feel you come all over my fingers again. I want to feel your pussy squeeze my fingers tight and watch you ride my hand and hear you screaming my name. Come for me, baby. Think about my cock filling you. Soak my hand with your sweetness, let me lick you off my fingers. I need a taste.” You arched into his caress; you knew he was going to make you come hard. It was too much. It was too good. His voice, his fingers, his face; every part of him was urging you toward your climax.

“Brendon!” He had curled his fingers, his middle finger pressing insistently into you and stroking firmly. “Fuck, Brendon, right there.” You couldn’t control yourself, you couldn’t even breathe steadily; all you could do was feel as his fingers rubbed inside you.

You moved to hide your face but remembered his earlier request and found his eyes instead. “I’m coming, I’m coming; fuck, Brendon, you’re perfect, please don’t stop.” The words fell from your lips in a breathless chant, and you were writhing under his touch. He watched in immense satisfaction, stroking your hair with his free hand.

“You’re incredible.” He withdrew his fingers, soothing you after your soft moan of loss, and carefully ran his tongue up and over each individual finger. “And you taste so good. I knew you’d taste incredible. Fuck, baby, your pussy...”

His eyes closed in ecstasy as his tongue worked its way back over each. You moaned, craving his tongue on your body instead. He was running his fingers through your hair now, across your parted lips, down your chest, over your stomach and drawing circles on your hips. “You’re fucking phenomenal, and I don’t want to stop touching you, even for a second.”

You twisted slightly, letting your legs twine around him and pull him closer. You were still breathing hard, relishing the feeling of his hands on your thighs, when he moved toward the end of the bed. “But I want to eat this gorgeous pussy. I promised I’d eat this gorgeous pussy, and I keep my promises,” he murmured, clasping your ankles in both hands and pushing them toward your body.

You moaned when he feathered a kiss to the inside of your thigh. With one hand under the small of your back, he tilted your hips slightly upward. He shifted his head to the side, exactly three inches to the right of where you most wanted him and teased your hip with the tip of his tongue.

-||- the present -||-

“Do you think you can handle it?” He’s mumbling against your mouth, reluctant to break the kiss. You’re brought out of your reverie by his words and with the feeling of his thumbs rubbing across your breasts and his leg pressing insistently between your thighs. You bite his lip gently, and he lightly pinches a nipple in response, sending lightning straight through you.

I think I need it,” you murmur, spreading your knees apart but still grinding against his bare thigh. He smiles, releasing your lips, and tracing a slow, tortuous path with his tongue down between your breasts to your throbbing clit.

With both hands against your thighs, pressing them apart, he gazes up at you steadily. "Is this what you need?” He runs the tip of his tongue across your pussy, moving in soft circles before flicking against your clit, and you shudder, wishing you could grab his hair.

“Or this?” He’s much more forceful this time, his tongue finding exactly where you want it and moving steadily back and forth. You’re shrieking, trying to keep your hips still as he torments you with his mouth. It won’t be long; you’re too turned on from everything else he’s done to you. You can feel your climax building, the pressure intense.

His hands leave your hips, and he carefully presses two fingers against your pelvis and pushes up—you gasp instantly; the move gives him full access to your clit and he’s taking full advantage of it, his tongue going flat against you and sending shockwaves through your entire body.

Before you can catch your breath, Brendon slides two fingers back inside, thrusting and curling relentlessly as his tongue strums against your clit.

You throw your head back, raising your hips and chanting his name, desperate for release. “God, you’re beautiful.” He pulls away to watch you for a moment before returning to his previous work. Using a shoulder, he nudges your leg closer to your body and withdraws his fingers momentarily—before you can even react, he’s back inside you, both tongue and fingers doubling their force, and you’re practically screaming your orgasm, nearly weeping his name in ecstasy. You’re trembling, shaking from head to toe, and he moves up and over your body, kissing your stomach, chest, neck, forehead, and finally dipping back down to your lips.

You arch up into him, cradling him in between your legs, kissing him urgently. One of his hands cups the back of your head, and you can feel the other untying the tie that holds you in place. The silk goes slack, and you shoot your arms forward, one now around his shoulders, the other hand tangling in his hair.

“You’re amazing,” you murmur against his lips, twisting your legs around him to keep him pressed against you.

He smiles into the kiss, both hands running through your hair and down your back, holding you close to him before pulling back slightly. “You’re pretty incredible yourself. How do your arms feel?” Brendon looks at you with concern, running the tips of his fingers up your arms and across your shoulders.

You shrug, wanting to get back to the kissing, and you snuggle closer to him. He chuckles. “Not ready to let go yet?” You shake your head, burying your face in his neck. He kisses the top of your head, stroking your hair. “Let me just check your arms, baby.”

He shifts so he’s behind you, hands rubbing over your shoulders and upper arms carefully. “No pain?” You shake your head, going limp against his chest. “I just don’t want you to have pulled something…” he’s using his thumbs to apply pressure between your shoulders and neck, and you’re groaning in pleasure, arching your back and pressing against him. “I think you’re good.” He’s still rubbing your arms, and you cuddle back into his body, relishing the feeling of his hardness pressing insistently into your back.

“I think I am too.” You slide down his body, resting your head on his leg and closing your eyes. “Orgasms always make me sleepy,” you confess, snuggling against his leg and purposefully brushing the tip of your nose against his erection before snaking a hand up to palm him through his boxers. He inhales sharply as you stroke him, running his fingers through your hair and leaning back against the headboard.

“You better take a quick power nap, because as far as I can tell, you still know words other than my name, meaning I haven’t kept all of my promises.” His voice is playful but contains an undertone of desire, and a thrill of pleasure goes through you as you remember there’s more. He’s already brought you to orgasm—was it really three times? —and there’s still more he’s promised you. Your toes curl at the thought, and you gaze up at him, biting your lip. “You really are stunning,” Brendon murmurs, and you smile lazily.

“I’m usually not this kind of girl…sleeping with someone immediately,” you tell him, hand no longer stroking but wrapping around his dick instead. He tucks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up to meet his eyes.

“Hey. One, I’m definitely not judging you. I am definitely planning on fucking you,” he gives you a small grin, “but I’m not judging you. Two, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being the 'kind of girl’ who sees something she wants and gets it. Who cares how we met or when we met? It’s no one’s damn business. What’s important is that we met. I wanted you. You wanted me. I brought you home, and now here we are.” Brendon leans down and kisses you deeply, and you twist yourself up into his arms and back into his lap, responding eagerly.

He pulls you closer and you tentatively rub yourself against him again. He leans back slightly and meets your eyes. “So, we’re good? You’re not mentally beating yourself for being 'that kind of girl’ which we have determined is crap?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah, we’re good. Will you please kiss me again?” He complies with a smile, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you gently. “Thank you,” you mumble against his lips, grasping his hair and twisting it between your fingers. As the kiss continues, you tug at his hair, eliciting a sharp groan. He bites your lip, and you roll your hips against his, relishing the feeling.

“Someone’s awake again,” he comments, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You nod, grinning. “Someone better get ready.” You wriggle excitedly, promising him you’re ready.

With that, he lowers you back onto the bed, kissing you more firmly and coaxing your lips apart with his tongue. Moaning into the kiss, you wrap your legs around his waist and reach between you to get his underwear off. You need to feel his cock.

“Love that you might be more eager than me,” Brendon mumbles, kicking the discarded boxer briefs off the bed. You gasp when his erection springs free, and you press closer to him. He grins, grasping your hips and pulling you against him firmly while kissing your neck. “You feel what you do to me? You make me so hard, and you’re so wet. I can’t wait to feel you take me. But first,” he pauses, leaning over you and groping blindly in the nightstand. You prop yourself up on one arm, watching in interest as he tears open a condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls it down into place. “Safety first.”

He’s hovering over you once more and he kisses you firmly, two fingers working between your legs, twisting and spreading slowly, before taking his cock in one hand teasingly running it over the length of your pussy. You whimper, trying to wriggle down, needing him to fill you, to fuck you. He makes a soft, soothing sound, pressing the head of his cock against you, watching you whine and writhe against him. Finally, he relents, grasping your hip and entering you in one swift movement. You cry out, nails scratching at his back, instantly grateful for the work he had done to prepare you earlier. You bite down on his neck as he fills you, and you whisper, “you feel so fucking good.”

Brendon flips his hair out of his eyes and looks at you intently. “You feel amazing,” he replies, grabbing one of your legs and pulling it higher on his waist. Immediately he’s deeper, thrusting hard, and you're working to keep your composure. He drops down onto a forearm, still thrusting into you. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how you like to be fucked.” His tongue traces a path from your ear down your neck and ended in the hollow of your collarbone while his free hand moves over your breasts, torturing you by barely brushing his thumb gently back and forth over a nipple.

You shudder with pleasure, arching your back and lifting your hips to offer him more of you. “You, fuck, I want you, fucking me like this, fucking me any way you want me, like you can’t get enough of me.” He grins, hitching your other leg higher as well and bites your shoulder when you shriek in pleasure from the angle change. “Fuck, yes. I want you to fill me up with your cock, give it to me, Brendon—I’m gonna come, oh fuck, fuck, fuck you’re right there, don’t stop!”

You’re trying to catch your breath, but his pace has nearly doubled and you’re digging your nails into the sheets with one hand in his hair; the sensations are proving to be too much for you. Every inch of your body is vibrating and taut with need. All he needs to do is tell you to come for him, and you know you’ll explode.

“Would you hate me,” Brendon murmurs, pulling out of you suddenly and stroking himself idly, “if I made you wait for it?”

You’re quivering at the loss, legs spread and hips twitching, and you stare up at him. “Keep talking.”

“I want you to come, baby. Trust me on that. I want to feel your gorgeous cunt tighten around my cock, want to feel that sweet, slick heat, want to watch your head roll back and your eyes flutter shut when I make you come.” Your breath hitches in your throat at his words, and you can’t help it when you start to tease your clit with two fingers. His eyes follow your fingers, and you can see his cock throb in his hand.

“Goddamn, that’s so fucking sexy,” Brendon whispers, stroking himself even slower, obviously teasing himself too. “Fuck, touch yourself for me, honey.” Moaning, you let your eyes fall shut as your hips move in time with your fingers. “Eyes open. Let me see those gorgeous eyes.” You meet his eyes, whimpering. “Keep going. Tell me how it feels, please.”

“Fuck it feels good; Brendon, I love it. I love you watching me, I love watching you stroke your cock while I finger myself; fuck, I want to ride your cock.” Your voice is high and tight, and your breathing is shallow. “Please, fuck, Brendon, please let me.” He groans appreciatively, and you give him a pleading look, using your fingers to spread yourself for him. “Let me ride your cock.”

He sinks down beside you, rolling onto his back, and you straddle him eagerly. With warm hands on your hips, he guides you down. “Fuck,” you mumble, rocking back and forth slightly, adjusting again. “Fuck, you’re thick.” You can feel him twitch inside you, and he’s under you, biting his lip. “God, you feel so fucking good. Is this okay?”

You’re leaning over slightly, hands on his chest, and he nods, breathing hard. “You’re so sexy,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs. “I really didn’t expect you to do any work,” and he gestures at the way you’re rolling your hips, riding him slowly.

“This is hardly work,” you say, laughing a little and moving faster. “This is me, riding the perfect cock of a man I’m so fucking into. This is me—oh god, that’s good—showing him how into him I am.”

He’s thrusting up into you slightly, whispering breathless praise, and holding onto you tightly; you shift, really grinding down on him now. One hand leaves your thigh, and he tangles a hand in your hair.

He brings your mouth down for a hard kiss. You gasp; the kiss is rough and demanding and possessive, and you want it to last forever. He pulls back after a long moment, his eyes dark with lust, and he reaches up to rub at your clit. “Don’t think I’m not enjoying watching you ride me,” he starts, swearing under his breath when you sink down onto him again. “Because it’s fucking phenomenal, feeling you, watching you like this. But I think you’ve been teased long enough; I think you need to come.”

“God, I really do,” you agree, whining when he lifts you off of him.

“Hang on, baby; I’m gonna get you there,” Brendon promises, petting your hair and bringing you down to lay next to him. “Want to try this.” He twists so he’s spooning you, and he takes you in his arms. One hand gropes at your breasts and tugs at your nipples, while the other lingers between your legs, lifting your top leg so he can slide in deep, before stroking your clit. “How does this feel?”

You can’t find the words; you can only cling to his arms around you and let out small sounds of bliss. You roll a little so you’re more on your stomach than side, and he’s curved over you, still thrusting hard. Rolled slightly like this, he’s got more leverage to use for filling you, and you know you’re going to lose control shortly. What you want to say is that it feels incredible. This angle is far tighter, and you can feel everything at a higher intensity—you can only imagine what it feels like for him. His lips brush your shoulder, and when you sigh happily, he bites down gently as he begins to rut against you.

You’re in sensory overload. The feel of his fingers on your skin, the sharp sensation of his teeth, and the overwhelming pressure and sound as his hips crash into you from behind—you can feel your legs trembling and know your climax is close. “Fuck, Brendon…I’m right there.”

The hand on your chest moves to your hair, and he tilts your head back slightly, so he can whisper in your ear. “I wanna hear you come, baby. Come for me, come on my cock, tell me who makes you come like this.” Abandoning your clit only briefly, he grabs your hip, lifts you a little, and thrusts in hard and deep. It’s exactly what you need; you feel a rush of pleasure spread from your core through your whole body, and you’re shaking, squealing, swearing that he’s the only one who’s ever made you come this hard as he fucks you through it.

It’s while you’re rocking back against him for more that you beg him to come; he moves his hand down to find your clit and strokes gently, teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna. Don’t think for a second I’m not gonna come, feeling you take my cock so good, feeling you buck against my fingers, begging for more. Fuck,” he breathes, burying his face in your neck, feeling you squeeze around his length in response to his deeper strokes. “I’m gonna come; you’re gonna make me come.”

Your whole body tightens again as a second wave rolls through you, and he groans your name, biting down on your shoulder. Between his arms around you tight and his teeth marking you, he’s holding you firmly in place as he comes, and you love it. You can feel his cock throb inside you as he thrusts erratically, riding his orgasm out; his body tenses and then relaxes above you.

“Oh god,” Brendon groans, breathing hard and rolling to one side. He reaches for you, bringing you closer, and tucks you into his chest so he can press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Fuck,” you agree, going limp against him. “That was incredible.”

He sighs contentedly. “It was. Holy fuck.” He lifts your face to his, kissing you softly. “I’ll be honest; I planned to fuck you in a guest room.”

You falter, leaning back to give him a confused, hurt look. “You didn’t want to—in your bed? Am I not— This is a weird way to ask me to leave, but okay.” You laugh a little self-consciously, trying to disguise how wounded you feel, and his eyes go wide.

“Fuck, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I meant that we’d fuck there, so that I could take you to my bed for actual sleep. I planned on fucking you so good we’d need to change the sheets,” he grins when you relax and nod, giggling a little. “So, I planned on fucking you in a guest room, soaking those sheets, and then I’d carry you to my bed to pass out. I fully intended, and still intend, for you to spend the night in my bed. I’m definitely not kicking you out.”

“You keep saying you planned on fucking me in a guest room.” You look around the room for the first time and then back at him. “This doesn’t look like a guest room.”

“It’s not,” Brendon admits, grinning. “When it came down to it, when I had you in my arms headed up the stairs, I decided I wanted to see you lose control in my bed. Wanted to watch you take my cock, come hard for me, squeal my name in my bed. Not some random guest bed. I wanted you, and I wanted you here.”

“…I did ruin these sheets though,” you point out with a soft laugh, guiding one of his hands over to feel. “So, are we going to go sleep in a guest room?”

“Hell no,” Brendon mumbles, nuzzling you sleepily. “I’m going to scoop you up and place you in that lounge chair,” he flings a hand haphazardly toward a plush chair in the corner, “and find the energy to change these sheets. Then I’m taking you back to bed and falling asleep with you in my bed, the same bed where I drove you fucking wild, just the way I planned.”

He makes good on his promise, dragging himself from the bed and carrying you over to the chair. He places you in it gently, lifting your face to his for a soft kiss. “I’ll be quick, baby.”

You watch in interest as he works, stripping the bed down and remaking it carefully. You’d assumed he’d rush, just put a new fitted sheet on the bed and fling the blankets across, but he’s tucking and folding down the top sheet now, carefully draping the blankets over the length of the bed, layering them the way they were initially. When you comment on all the effort, he smiles at you sweetly. “Well of course I’m going to put in effort. I plan to take my girl to bed, but it has to be a bed worthy of her.”

Your breath falters. “Your girl?”

Brendon nods, crossing back to the chair and standing naked in front of you without a hint of self-consciousness. “I’m going to see you again.” It isn’t a question, not really, and it sends shivers of pleasure through you. “And I want you to be mine.”

“Brendon…” He looks down at you, and he must see in your face everything you can’t put into words, because he leans down, brushes your hair back from your face, and gives you a deep kiss.

You smile into the embrace, arching your body into his, making a soft sound of satisfaction as he slips his tongue into your mouth and lifts you up into his arms. He sighs your name, then— “You are mine, aren’t you?” He whispers the words against your lips, and you nod, kissing him again. Reverently, he brings you back to his bed, placing you down and covering you up before sliding in beside you.

You turn in his arms to face him, twist your fingers through his hair, and kiss the corner of his mouth before pulling back to meet his eyes. “Brendon?”

“Yes, baby?”

“You are still my favorite artist.”

He beams down at you, kissing your forehead. “I’d better be, after tonight,” he teases sleepily, and you laugh, tugging the blankets higher and snuggling into him.

#brendon urie smut #brendon urie #brendon urie fanfiction #brendon urie x reader #imagine #my work revised #brendon smut #happy valentine's day #enjoy some fluffy filth #smuff! smutty fluff 🥵💗

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misson-impossible · 2 years

Text

"It was always you"

(Not my GIF)

Dallon Weekes x Reader

Angst

Set in the V&V Era minus Dallon, you are the keyboardist, multi-instrumentals, and backing vocals for P!ATD.

"So yeah guys life's pretty good.." Dallon says to his phone on an insta live. You look at him tears welling up in your eyes from the statement. "Yeah its been pretty smooth these last couple weeks. Haven't had many issues popping up-"

You run out of the room into the bathroom before he could finish his statement and slam the door. You start to sob silently so Dallon doesn't hear you.

Dallon hasn't really spoken to you for a couple weeks for no apparent reason but when he did it was to be an asshole.

After you let all your tears go you walk out of the bathroom and back into the livingroom. Dallon didn't even look up as you walked by and go to your shared bedroom.

He had been your offical boyfriend for about a year and nothing like this had ever happened.

You grab a guitar off the wall and start playing chords as loud and as hard as you can in frustration. Tears start falling again.

"One moment." Dallon says to the phone and sets it down. He walks into the bedroom "Can you stop being obnoxious for once in your life?!" He says in a yell whisper so the phone doesn't pick it up. You raise your head up to him "Will once you stop."

"I could never match yours."

You throw the guitar to the side and Dallon go's back to the livingroom to continue the live "Sorry guys had to adjust something."

You grab a backpack and start throwing stuff in it. You put your guitar in its case and throw it over your back.

You walk into the livingroom and stare at Dallon. After several seconds until he looks up. He sighs "One second guys gotta take care of something."

He stands up and towers over you "Why are you so dramatic?!" He keeps his voice low.

"Me?! I'm not the one who keeps ignoring the person you said you would love forever!" You say loud.

"Its not like we're married!! We live together! I've had a lot going on!"

"I don't care you can at least tell me if you hate me!"

"Maybe we just shouldn't be together anymore.."

"What?"

"Yeah. We've grown apart. I loved you but-"

Tears start stinging your eyes and run over to the couch and throw his phone across the room "Well I mean sure! You care about random strangers more than me so fuck you Dallon! You can just go and get 45 cent jobs in an alley way that's all your worth!" You scream with tears still falling.

He looks at you shocked but then runs after his phone. A lot of his viewer left but not after commenting things like "Fuck boy" and "Dip shit.". Some of course say that your a crazy bitch and that they are single.

"Goodbye Dallon." You say between sobs. You were about to run out the door but first steal the bass he was playing on the live.

"[Y/N] wait!" He yells. You were already out the door. The bass wasn't he worry. "I'm sorry." He whispers to himself before ending the live.

---

You walk over to Brendon's apartment he shares with Spencer. You bang on the door several times loudly until one of them answers the door.

"God damn it's 10:30pm!" Brendon says before he sees its you "Oh sorry [Y/N] I- what's wrong?"

You sob "I- he-"

Brendon takes you into the apartment and hugs you "Tell me later."

Spencer walks out of his room to see what happened "Whats going on?"

You just break out in more sobs. Spencer puts his hands up and doesn't speak again. Brendon puts his hand on the back of your head so your head is in the crook of his neck "Its gonna be ok..". He rubs your back.

"We have a third room you can stay in if you need it."

You nod. "Dallon-" you say and that's all you get out before getting into a sobbing mess again. Brendon hugs you again and leads you to the room.

"Whats with the bass?" Brendon asks. You shake your head and put all your stuff on the bed "Thank you." You say with a voice crack. Brendon nods "No problem. Tell me what happened in the morning?"

You nod.

~The next day~

You get up and look at your phone just to see a picture of Dallon as your lockscreen followed with several texts from him. You block him as tears start welling back up.

You walk into the living corridors where Brendon and Spencer sit. "Morning!" Brendon says in a happy tone. You continue to walk but hold your hand out as a wave.

You go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. "No wonder Dallon broke hated you." You say soft and tears well up again. You shake your head "No.. he didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve this face, this personality." You try to make your self cheer up. You force smile and wipe tears so Brendon and Spencer don't have to see you in that state.

After you get your self together you walk about and go to a recliner silently.

Brendon and Spencer look at eachother awkwardly.

"What happened honey?" Brendon says sweet and calmly.

You wipe your eyes again "Dallon hasn't been talking to me much for weeks and we finally broke. He said he's glad he's not me and that we've grown apart. He cares more about random strangers than me anyway. He hates me." You start crying again.

"He doesn't hate you, if he doesn't know what he had. He didn't deserve you anyway." Spencer says to cheer you up. You nod wipe your eyes "Thank you." You say softly.

"We can go over there and get some of your stuff." Brendon says. You shake your head eagerly. "We can go in." Spencer responds to your disapproval. "No you don't have to do that." You say assuring him.

"No we have no problem doing anything for you."

"We can go now even." Brendon responds. Spencer nods.

~At Dallon's house~

Brendon knocks on the door. Dallon answers after a few seconds. Dallon's eyes were puffy from crying. "Hell are you crying?" Brendon asks pushing past him. "[Y/N]?" Dallon says hoping you were with them. "She's not here. Why would she want go see you anyway." Spencer says before walking past him and follows Brendon.

Brendon start just putting a bunch of stuff in a bag. Dallon watches "Tell her I'm sorry. It's been a lot these last few weeks I didn't know how bad it had impacted her." He says and starts crying again.

He and Brendon do the 'bro hug' thing "Will do.".

~Back at the apartment~

You are sitting in your room hugging the bass. Brendon sees you doing that and is immediately saddened after seeing both of you. "Dallon says he's sorry." He's says handing you the stuff. "Sure he is." You mumble under your breath.

~Weeks later~

You've been living with Brendon and Spencer. You haven't really had many things career wise you've had to do so it's been pretty chillatious. Brendon and Spencer have took care of you and made sure you ate.

Before Ryan and Jon left they had asked you if you would go to their new band. You considered it but ultimately declined after you saw the impact the split had on Brendon and Spencer. You were glad you stayed in Panic! now.

Today you have an acoustic performance for a radio station. These were always fun...

You only had to do backing vocals as Brendon would cover the acoustic guitar part.

You get to the stations set up and sit silently. "You sure you can do this?" Spencer asks quietly. "Yeah.. it's not like I'm dying. Only inside." You respond. Spencer nods.

You and Brendon were going to duet the songs. The station gave you the list of songs There were five of them and they went straight through you. "Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off", "Northern Downpour", "When The Day Met The Night", "New Perspective", and of course "I Write Sins Not Tragedies".

"Can I do this?" you asked yourself. Well you were gonna find out.

You sang all the songs in duet form and as soon as you were done with the last song you stood up and just walked away before anything else could happen.

~Dallons POV~

Dallon saw the performance in his YouTube feed. He held back tears as soon as he saw you. You didn't look as full of life.

The first song was I Write Sins. You and Brendon did the face to face thing which Dallon always laughed at but not this time. The song didn't really get to him, hearing your voice did. The next one however it was different.

It was Lying Is The Most Fun. You looked straight at the camera when you sang "You know it will always be me." It was as if you have sang it straight to him. Dallon had tears falling.

Then there was Northern Downpour. That song is just sad in general but him hearing it come out of your mouth after what happened made it sadder.

Then you sang New Perspective. Dallon felt every word go straight through his heart especially when you sang "Who cares divine intervention I wanna be praised from a new perspective but leaving now would be a good idea so catch me up I'm getting out of here."

Last was When The Day Met The Night. It was like the story of the both of you and Dallon so hearing you sing it he lost it and started sobbing again.

He sees you leave the set as soon as you finish singing and has an idea why. Him.

~Your perspective~

You sit backstage wiping your eyes before tears fell.

Brendon and Spencer came back to you as fast as they could. "It was like the whole set was about Dallon!" You sobbed. Spencer hugs you "Its ok. It'll be alright." He rubs your back as you sob.

You walk out to the car Spencer and Brendon guarding you from pictures as you were embarrassed about the entire situation.

You get to the car and sit in the back seat.

"So [Y/N].." Brendon says driving.

"What!" You yell not wanting to speak.

"See its that time of the month.." He mumbles under his breath to Spencer not expecting you to hear it.

Spencer chuckles.

"You asshole! I can be mad any day of the damn month!"

Brendon and Spencer tense up as you yell at them.

"Brendon have you even had a girl long enough to know what happens? How did they even get it through both of your bone heads?! You both can preform but you're both dumb as fuck! Do you even want me living with you? Dumb fucks I could take you both in a fight any day! Pull over lets go right now!"

"Me and Spencer are going to this performance thing at a bar tonight. Come with us?" Brendon says trying to de-escalate the situation to prevent homicide or even more distracted driving.

"No." You yell back "Why would I want to that that would be rather embarrassing going out in a public bar with you both!"

Brendon looks at Spencer not knowing what to say. Spencer motions in a way to say I don't know. Brendon motions back that he doesn't know and to say something.

"Oh yes you are." Spencer says "You need to get out and around. You can't stay locked up forever. We could be like you dads?"

"What the fuck?" Brendon mouths theatrically to Spencer.

"I don't know?!" He mouthes back in the sane fashion.

You don't respond.

As soon as you pull up you storm passed them both and into the apartment.

~Later, at the bar~

Spencer and Brendon drug you out of the apartemnt and to the bar bit not without a fight.

You follow either of them around just depending on where they go.

About an hour later the music begins. You watch in admiration for some of them and really enjoy it until you hear oh so familiar names.

"Next up we have Dallon Weekes and Ryan Seaman!" The announcer says.

You start to walk toward the door but Brendon catches you "No. You have to listen."

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do!"

He drags you back to Spencer fighting you

"Your not my dad!" You yell.

"Yes I am!" Brendon realizes what he said to late "I take that back Im your brother figure!"

"I don't care!"

Brendon eventually drags you back before it starts.

"Hey so I'm Dallon Weekes and we are gonna be singing a song my friend wrote called "Always". I'm also dedicating this to a girl that probably wants to set my house of fire and murder me so yeah go's like this."

You look at Brendon and Spencer and then back to Dallon. You try to tip toe away but Brendon and Spencer have their eyes on you.

When you actually listened you could feel the emotion in every lyric he sang. After the first chorus tears started to form. Did he still love you? That's all you wanted.

The performance felt so genuine and you just wanted to give him a hug and tell him it's all better now.

After he finishes he walks off. He didn't see you. Brendon and Spencer lead you back stage where Dallon was on his phone.

There were tears in his eyes as well as yours. You immediately ran up to him and started hugging him. "[Y/N]?!" He said exicted and immediately returned the hug. "Yeah!" You say with tears running down your face. You continue to hug and tear up for several moments.

"I didn't think you'd ever forgive me." Dallon admitted.

"I didn't think I ever would when it happened."

Dallon wipes your tears away "I was going through a lot and regretted everything Insaid immediately. I'm so so so sorry I didn't mean anything said or that I called you. I don't think I could ever get tired of you."

"I don't care." You say and kiss him and wipe his tears.

When you turned around Brendon and Spencer were already gone.

"Can I come back." You say and start tearing up again.

"You shouldn't ever have to ask that baby. Yes, you are always aloud its your house too."

You smile "I love you."

Dallon smiles back "I love you too."

You and Dallon walk back into to the audience area close together. You find Brendon and Spencer and they are happy with the outcome.

After you get all your stuff from the apartment you go home with Dallon and finally get to sleep in your bed.

"It was always you." Dallon whispers to you thinking you were asleep. You were glad you go to here those four words coming from the love of your life.

This ending sucks that's all I've got say. This was also really long so.

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dirty-urie · 2 years

Text

Behave

4.7k Words

Warnings: public sex, oral sex, brief mention of drugs

Based on these requests

Your mouth gapes open. “Bren,” you sputter. “Why didn’t you tell me this before I got here?”

Brendon smiles guiltily. “Then you wouldn’t have come.”

You glare at him before glaring at the bus that you’ll all be crammed into for your week-long visit.

“C’mon, baby, it won’t be so bad,” Brendon says. “You liked living on the tour bus with all the guys when we first started dating.”

“That was before you spoiled me with our own bus! Plus we all lie at the beginning of relationships. You pretended to like feminist literature for like three months.”

“I do like feminist literature! The Bell Jar was deeply poignant!”

You sigh. “You only know that book because it was in 10 Things I Hate About You.”

“Okay, fine. I should have told you my bus broke down,” Brendon finally caves. “I’ll get you a ticket home. You shouldn’t have to deal with the peasant bus.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “Oh no no. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, pretty boy,” you say, pecking his cheek. “I may hate crowded tour buses, but I hate being away from you more.”

Brendon strokes your hair. “So brave for me, baby. And lucky for you I’m very good at bunk sex.” He winks.

You scoff. “Ha, nope, mister. You are not getting any this week.”

“We’ll see. I’m pretty irresistible,” he says, walking with you onto the bus.

You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll manage. Plus you said I get my own bunk, right?”

Brendon nods, punching in the code for the door. As soon as you’re on the bus, Brendon grabs your shoulders, in both an attempt to comfort you and an attempt to prevent you from immediately running away. There are food wrappers strewn about, a carpet of dirty clothes lining the floor, and two flies buzzing anxiously about the enclosed space. “I will clean this up, don’t worry, sweet girl.” Brendon laughs nervously.

You take a deep breath while Brendon gathers dirty underwear and greasy pizza boxes. You crack open a few windows and start tidying up the kitchenette, making the place decently livable. “Sorry to be such a diva, Brendon.”

Brendon shakes his head, putting a bag of laundry and a bag of trash near the door for Zack to take out later. “We’ve all been complaining about the mess for weeks. We’ve just been too lazy to do something about it.” He walks forward. “Plus, a clean bus means I get to do this.” He lifts you up by your hips, and places you on the now-clean kitchenette counter.

You grasp the back of his head with both hands, frantically crashing his lips against yours. You waste no time getting your hand down his pants, finally wrapping your hand around his stiffening cock like you’ve been dreaming of. He groans, deep and guttural, as his head tips back in bliss. He yanks his sweatpants down, and you feel his erection between you. You wrap your legs around him and grind on his cock, kissing him desperately. You slide your hand up his back under his shirt. “Oh god, Bren, I’m so wet you whine.”

“Fuck. I’m so hard,” Brendon groans. “Need to come soon. Can I come inside you?”

“Please,” you whine, and he starts to press into you.

You hear the beeping of the electric keypad to the bus, and before you have time to react, the bus door slams open and Brendon’s band mates pour in. You scramble to pull away from each other, and you blush bright red as you tuck Brendon’s cock into his pants.

Nicole wolf-whistles and cackles. “Oh gross, guys. That’s where we cook! Or, er, that’s where we put our pizza boxes when we get take out.”

Mike flushes brighter than you and Brendon. Zack, forever unfazed, just rolls his eyes. “I would like to remind everyone, not anyone in particular, I’m not singling anyone out, that the tour bus still has a strict ban on fucking.”

Dan, Nicole, and Mike snort, and you bury your face in Brendon’s chest, partially to hide your embarrassment, and partially to hide your giggles. “Brendon didn’t respect the no fucking rule back in his single days, and he certainly won’t respect it when the love of his life is here,” Dan teases.

You grin at the words ‘love of his life’ before sliding off the counter. Brendon pulls you close to him immediately, and you don’t realize why until you feel his erection pressing against your ass. He’s using you to hide it. You bite your lip, trying not to rub back against him. “Don’t worry, Zack. We’ll behave,” you promise. Brendon kisses up the nape of your neck, and you have to fight back a moan.

Zack stares at both of you disbelievingly. “Mhm. Brendon? You’ll behave?”

Brendon grabs your ass, and you squeal, turning around to lock your lips with his again.

Someone clears their throat behind you, and you separate again, both staring at the floor. “I’ll make him behave, Zack,” you mumble. “He’s in trouble anyway.”

Everyone settles into the lounge, and you do too, sitting in Brendon’s lap.

“Why’s he in trouble?” Nicole asks curiously, sipping a diet soda.

“He didn’t tell me his bus broke down before I showed up,” you explain, and everyone else in the lounge cracks up at you. Your cheeks heat, and you fidget as embarrassment rises back in your throat. They’re distinctly laughing at you, but you’re not sure why.

“Aww, poor princess, you’re stuck in the shithole bus,” Zack snarks, and Brendon strokes your arm soothingly.

“Hey, she served her time in the shithole,” Brendon snaps. “She spent a whole tour during Too Weird in a bus with all the guys. And need I remind you that you fuckers are paid to be here. Y/n is gracing us with her presence out of the kindness of her heart.”

You twist to peck him on the cheek. “Thanks for defending my honor, babe.”

Brendon waggles his eyebrows. “Oh I'm sure you’ll find a way to thank me later.”

“Nice try, baby boy, we’ll be in separate beds anyway,” you scoff, “I’ll be able to resist your Urie Charm just fine.”

“Oh fine,” Brendon sighs.

“Such a good husband, baby boy,” Zack mocks.

You pinch Brendon’s cheek affectionately. “Look at dis man. You’re just jealous he’s not your baby boy.” You snuggle against him.

Everyone fakes a gag, and Brendon kisses all over your face. “Mmm, I’m a slut for you, honey.”

“Y’all are fucking gross,” Nicole howls.

Brendon kisses the top of your head, standing up. “Nah, we’re cute. Admit it,” he says playfully before turning his back to the lounge and heading to the bunk area. ”Okay, I’m turning in. Use my card if you order any food or drinks.”

Cheers erupt from the group, and Brendon turns over his shoulder to shoot a wink at you.

Nicole makes Zack pick up Sonic during his trash run, and you stay up later with the band playing strip go-fish, a game Brendon invented when he wanted to get naked but was too drunk to play poker. Now it’s a beloved Panic! past time.

“Dan, do you have any queens?” you ask Dan nervously. You’re down to a t-shirt, bra, and panties, and if you don’t get this card, you’ll have to drop out.

Dan grins, and your stomach drops. “Go fiiiiiii-,” he starts and your nostrils flare. “Go figure, you’d ask for the one card I have,” he laughs, handing you three queens.”

You slump in relief before you smack his arm. “Fuck. Dude. You had me going there.”

The key-pad beeps, and you all look at the door, expecting Zack back with your food. Instead Fall Out Boy pours in, and Pete pumps his fists in celebration. “Zack said there’s strip go-fish?” He asks, as everyone, in various states undress, flocks to the newcomers.

“Hell yeah, now it’s a party,” Nicole calls, turning up the music. “Are you staying the night?

“You know we are!”

Zack follows behind the band, holding three massive bags of fast food and a garbage bag of clean laundry. “Everyone behave, we have a show tomorrow,” he reminds before checking his watch, a difficult feat with the food. “Or, um, later today I guess. It’s 5 am.”

“Shit that’s late!” you exclaim. You kiss Patrick’s cheek, the last of the boys you greet. “I’m sorry to leave the party as it’s getting started, but I’m jetlagged, I’ll see you guys at the show?”

The FOB guys nod.

“Oh!” Zack calls after you. ”Y/n, do you mind bunking with B? We’re low on space now,” he asks, and you try to glower at him without anyone else noticing.

“That’s fine,” you grumble, going into the bunk area and shutting the divider. It somewhat muffles the music and laughter, but you can clearly hear them, and you know they could clearly hear you.

You crawl into Brendon’s top bunk and shed your bra. Brendon instinctively nuzzles against you, and you whine. Your brain may be pissed at him, but your body can’t resist him as temptation burns through you. “You feel good,” Brendon says, nibbling at your lip. “Mmm, and you’re not wearing pants.”

You pull away from him as much as you can in the tiny bunk. “Don’t start something we can’t finish,” you whisper sharply.

Brendon places a gentle kiss on your temple before scooting against the back wall of the bunk. “Not trying to. Just love to be close to you.”

You roll onto your other side, facing away from him. He hugs you from behind, sliding his hand under your shirt to rest it on your boobs. You sigh in contentment, squirming back against him.

Brendon nips at the back of your neck. “What happened to not starting something we can’t finish, baby?”

“You’re the one with the hand on my-” you hiss. Brendon puts a finger on your lips before silently pointing down to an occupied bunk below.

“Fuck,” you mouth. You need him inside you. You place your mouth right next to his ear. “Are you actually good at bunk sex?” you whisper. You don’t remember ever having bunk sex with Brendon. You usually waited for a hotel night. Or you tried to secretly fuck in the back lounge. Or the front lounge. Or a bathroom. Or somewhere backstage. Or one memorable time, on the roof of some producer’s mansion. But bunks are cramped and inconvenient and hard to clean. They’re a last resort.

Brendon nods eagerly. “Although, fair warning, it’s been a while. Okay, you get on top. Lie flat on top of me.”

You look at him quizzically. There’s not nearly enough space to ride him if he wants that.

“Just trust me, okay?” he murmurs, and you groan, rolling on top of him.

“I need you to fuck me,” you hiss quietly.

“Baby,” he says, amused, “I can’t fuck you if my dick is trapped between us. Scooch up a bit.”

You straddle him, standing up on your knees so he can shimmy his briefs down. He lifts his hips, and you smack your head on the ceiling of the bunk. “Fuck, Brendon,” you say at full volume before you blanch, imagining how a nosy eavesdropper could misconstrue that in a sexual context.

Brendon lays back flat on the mattress, murmuring hushed apologies.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you wave him off, ignoring the unpleasant throb of pain in your head. “Hm, I can make this work,” you muse, assessing him. His briefs are half-way down his thighs, but at least his cock is out.

You stand up on your knees again to position yourself over him, and your knee slips off the bunk’s edge. Brendon grabs you to keep you from tumbling onto the floor, and you end up smashing into his chest with your other knee.

“Damnit,” he mutters. “Fuck, this shouldn’t be this hard.”

“You shouldn’t be this hard,” you laugh, grabbing his cock. “The minor contusions didn’t kill your erection?”

“I haven’t gotten laid in so long, baby! Don’t judge me!”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Bren, I don’t think sex is going to happen tonight.”

“Let me try one more thing,” Brendon pleads, and you try not to get your hopes up.

“Okay.”

Brendon kisses you in gratitude. “Roll on your side away from me. Towards the curtain,” he instructs.

You roll on your side, and you feel him roll next to you, spooning you, his erection pressing against your ass. He pushes your panties to the side and moves your leg back over his hip. He pushes into your pussy and you inhale, trying to keep yourself from moaning. “God, I love your cock,” you whisper.

He reaches over you to stroke up your clit, and your body jerks at the shock of pleasure. He thrusts into you quickly but shallowly, restricted by the wall behind him and you in front of him. “I’ve missed this, baby,” he tells you, slamming his hips hard against you trying to get deeper.

You bring a hand to your breast, rubbing your nipple and making a mental note to get your tits in Brendon’s mouth the next time you fuck. He bites your shoulder to keep quiet, and you clench your teeth, only letting out small whimpers.

He speeds up on your clit, and your walls tighten. A shriek escapes your lips right as the music in the lounge turns off, and Brendon stills. “Bren! Wha- fuck! Keep going!” you demand.

Brendon kisses your shoulder and strokes your hair. “Baby, people will be coming to bed soon, and even if you could stay quiet when you come, which I doubt, you are… how do I put this? Uh, audibly wet.”

“Bren, I need to come,” you whine. “And you do too, you’re so hard. And you said so yourself, it’s been so long.”

You hear the door to the bunk area slide open, and you and Brendon both fall silent.

“My dressing room tomorrow,” Brendon breathes into your ear. Your heat pulses, and Brendon squeezes your hip with your hand. “We have to behave until then though.”

•••

Someone snaps the curtain of your bunk open, and you flinch as harsh lighting floods the tiny space.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauties,” Zack barks right in your face. You’re glad Brendon covered you with a blanket because he’s still buried in you. “Time to get into the venue. You’re the only people not ready to go.”

Brendon grumbles and swats at him blindly. “A few more minutes.”

“Now. Or else I’m making you haul equipment.”

“C’mon, Uries, I need to shower,” Nicole whines from behind him.

You yank the curtain shut and moan deliberately loudly as you fuck yourself back on Brendon, hard from a dream.

Everyone groans. “Get a room,” someone calls.

Brendon laughs, pulling out of you with a playful moan. You roll out of bed, only wearing soaked panties and a thin t-shirt.

Brendon follows behind you a few seconds later in boxers, an oversized hoodie, and a pair of slides. He slings his duffel bag over his shoulder. “Kay. I’m ready to go.”

You grab your backpack and climb on Brendon’s back. “Me too.”

“Babe, you wanna put clothes on?” an amused Brendon asks, turning his neck awkwardly to look back at you.

“Nah.”

Mike grins as everyone heads out of the bus. “Brendon, did you meet y/n on a dating site for nudists?”

You and Brendon chuckle. “Nope, he converted me,” you say affectionately, pulling his hair.

Brendon’s knees buckle. “Baby, you can’t do that while I’m holding you… or, uh, while I’m wearing loose boxers.”

You grin at how you’re affecting him, and everyone else cackles.

“Awww stop being all cute and gross and horny while I’m single,” Nicole mutters.

“I don’t foresee that happening,” you say apologetically before turning your attention back to your husband. “Hurry up, Brendon, I wanna get to the dressing room.”

•••

You slam the door to the dressing room with your foot as soon as you and Brendon get inside it. You hop off his back and peel off your shirt, exposing your bare breasts. “C’mon, babe, fuck me,” you plead. “I need you.”

Brendon rushes towards you eagerly. “I need you too. My wife, my love.” His lips collide with yours, and he shoves his hand down your panties.

Zack pounds on the door. “Open up.”

You groan in frustration and collapse on the couch, still shirtless. You hope Zack will get the message and leave you alone.

“Fuck,” Brendon mutters, opening the door.

Zack is holding a clipboard, and he does not seem apologetic that he clearly interrupted a tryst. “Brendon, you need to get dressed, you have interviews with Alternative Press, Paper, a local radio station…” Zack drones on with lists of sources that need your husband. You need your husband damnit. Your clit hasn’t stopped throbbing since you first laid eyes on him in the airport.

Brendon looks at you helplessly, his arousal draining away as it’s replaced with annoyance. “Zack, give me fifteen minutes to get dressed and finger my wife,” Brendon attempts to compromise. “Then I’m yours until showtime. I promise.”

“Okay fine, but no complaining and no sneaking off. You will go where I want when I want,” Zack says, leaving the dressing room.

Brendon closes the dressing room door and pounces on you as you shriek and giggle, grabbing his head. “Where were we?” he breathes.

“Fingers. Clit. Now,” you choke out, sliding down your panties.

Brendon takes off his hoodie. His muscled chest is bare. You stroke his stomach, relishing the way it quivers and flexes under your touch. “Baby, no,” Brendon says. “You can’t get me too worked up. This is about you.”

“I can’t get off without touching you,” you whine, stroking his cock through the fabric of his boxers. You straddle Brendon’s lap, grinding on his hard cock as your lips meet his urgently. Your tongue slides into his mouth and you soak in his familiar taste. “I’ve missed this mouth.” You roll on him, relishing the feeling of his throbbing thickness under you.

“You feel so good,” he sighs in bliss. “But, baby, you’re not going to come like this in time. Let me get a finger on your clit.”

“Don’t wanna come without you,” you pout, rocking back and forth on his shaft.

Brendon looks at the clock before he shoves his boxers down. You slide off of him onto your stomach, parallel with the couch, you suck Brendon down, fighting off your gag reflex triumphantly. You spread your legs, and Brendon gets the message, reaching between them to bring them under you to finger you.

You squeeze his base while you catch your breath through your nose before you swallow the rest of his pulsing cock. You suck hard as you pull back, your tongue pressing right against a sensitive vein. He bucks up and you moan around him, sending a thrill through his whole body. You taste precome as his fingers speed up on your clit.

“So greedy, babe, you love my cock,” he says in wonderment. You snort, his cock is perfect, but you don’t love it nearly as much as he loves your pussy. “God, play with my dick, rub my tip.”

You continue to bob on his cock, tonguing at his tip on your upstrokes, until he hisses. “Shit baby, about to come,” and you pull off his dick completely. “Wha- baby baby what have to come,” he says all in one breath.

You cackle, sitting up and sliding away from him. “Nope. You’re still in trouble. And you only have two minutes to get dressed. You can come after your show.”

Brendon sputters, looking down at his dick helplessly. “Y/n. Do you know what happened to the last girl to give me blue balls?”

You nod, half a cheeky grin on your face. “Oh I know. Never talked to that girl again. But,” you lean in close to whisper right in his ear while you grab his cock firmly, “you weren’t legally bound with her.” His cock twitches and leaks precome like a faucet. You squeeze his base hard, worried he’ll come even with as little stimulation as you’re giving him. “Behave, Urie,” you purr, “or I’ll put on the cock ring. Can’t have you coming before you do it in my tight pussy.”

Zack raps on the door impatiently. “One minute warning, B.”

Brendon limps awkwardly to his bag and pulls out a pair of jeans, which he can barely close and zip over his erection. The fabric strains noticeably, a small dark spot already forming over his tip. “Fuck,” he groans. “This isn’t going to work. Everyone is going to see.”

You lick your lips, approaching him. “Hm, as much as I would love everyone seeing how big and hard my husband gets for me,” you start. You unzip his cock, and he sighs in relief.

“Are you going to get me off?” he asks hopefully.

You scoff, pointing his dick straight up and pressing to his stomach before closing his jeans over it. His head peeks out the top. You hand him the biggest shirt he owns, so there’s not a great chance of him accidentally exposing himself. “I don’t want you too uncomfortable, baby. Plus, I don't want any of those interviewers getting too nosy.” You kiss his nose. “My boy.”

Brendon pulls you in for a real kiss, tender and chaste. “I’ll miss you, baby,” he sighs.

You rest the palm of your hand against his cheek. “I’ll be right here, love, go do your job.”

•••

“This song is called Middle of a Breakup, and I’m dedicating it to my beautiful wife in the audience tonight,” Brendon says into the microphone, walking around on stage with his confident swagger. The audience goes nuts, and you grin. They all know how much he loves you. “Not, uh, not because we’re breaking up, but because I fucking love having sex with her.” The audience explodes, the loudest they’ve been all night, and Brendon shoots a wink right at you. He sings the beginning of the song, and you watch with pride. “Oh shit, you’re grabbing my hips, drenching my cock, now I remember why we feel in love…” Brendon sings next, maintaining steady eye contact with you. Well those aren’t the words. The entire arena shrieks in elation, completely drowning out the next twenty seconds of the song. A girl in the front row begs Brendon to have her babies.

You grin. As much as they want him, he’s all yours.

“Oh shit, you’re getting me hard, making me come…” He brings his left hand down to his thigh, pressing quickly and drawing even more attention to his perfect cock. You need him. The crowd is going insane, and Brendon is feeding off of their energy. You scream right along with them. Brendon shoots another suggestive look at you.

He loves to make you scream.

•••

“Inside me, now,” you plead when Brendon finally retreats offstage. You don’t care about everyone milling around him.

“Yes,” he pants, “I need you.”

You both make a bee-line to the showers, which are blessedly empty. Brendon strips, slips on the shower shoes you brought for him, and gets under the spray. You lean against the wall, scanning his body with your eyes. God, he’s so hard. “Bren, you wanna touch yourself?” you offer.

He shakes his head. “Just want your pussy on me as soon as possible.” He finishes showering, and you hand him a towel to wrap around his waist. He has to press cock against his stomach again to keep him from completely tenting the towel. He presses you against the wall, and brings his lips down to yours. “My dressing room?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You run to Brendon’s dressing room, both of you giggling like teenagers even though you’re hardly getting away with anything. As soon as you’re in the relative privacy of the locked room, you cling to each other, devouring each other’s mouths roughly as he peels off your clothes. “How do you want my cock, baby?” Brendon asks.

“Hard. From behind.” You walk to the vanity, which is taller than usual, and you bend over it. You brace yourself against the surface. You see him shed his towel and approach you in the mirror. You spread your legs wider in anticipation. He presses against your entrance, and you gasp, moving your hips back against him to try to take more of him in. “Bren,” you whine, “fuck me.”

He thrusts forward to fill you, every throbbing inch making you moan. He moves until his hips are flush against your ass.

“Oh, fuck that’s so satisfying,” you say.

“So tight. So wet,” Brendon chokes out. He grabs your hips hard, giving him even better leverage. You love the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin. “Do you feel good

“Incredible,” you pant. “Your cock is the perfect size. Fills me just right. And so thick. I’m so stretched.” You admire him in the mirror. His hair is a mess, and he’s flushed from his neck down. He’s pouring all of his post-show adrenaline into fucking you hard and fast. “You’re beautiful, Brendon.”

“You’re the beautiful one. And you look especially good taking my cock. Your eyes are all wild and desperate, and your mouth is so pretty when it falls open to moan my name,” he gasps, and you blush despite yourself. You duck your head down. “Baby, let me compliment my beautiful wife,” Brendon says.

You tilt your head back up, so he can look at you. “Fine. Thank you, Bren.” Brendon kisses your neck in appreciation. Your cunt squeezes around him rapidly, and Brendon shuts his eyes in bliss as his head tips back. “Bren, keep your eyes open, baby, you have such beautiful eyes,” you request.

Brendon slows slightly as he forces his eyes open, exhaling hard through his nose. He takes a second before resuming his practically bruising speed.

“Good boy, show me how much you missed me.”

Brendon grins. “You love it like this, don’t you, baby? Rough and messy.” He shifts the angle of his hips to hit your g-spot, and your knees buckle.

“Fuck. You know I do. Love your cock however I can get it though,” you answer. “I hate to be apart from you, but I love coming back together. You feel so big.”

“And you’re so much more sensitive too. You’re squeezing my cock like crazy.” He reaches around you to rub your clit.

“Fuck me harder, Brendon. Faster. Let me come,” you beg.

Brendon moans. “Come on my cock, baby.”

You cry out in ecstasy and collapse forward onto the vanity. “You make me come so hard, Brendon,” you shriek.

Brendon chuckles. “Yeah, people definitely heard that, love.” He pulls out of you, and you turn around to pepper his face with kisses.

“I don’t care,” you giggle. “How do you want to come?” you ask him. “You’ve been a good boy, you can come however you want.”

“On your knees please, babe, wanna come in your mouth.”

You drop to your knees eagerly, suckling his tip. Brendon starts to jerk himself off, but you swat his hand away, replacing it with your own. Your own slickness aids you as you jack him.

“Baby, gonna come,” he warns before hot come floods your mouth. You swallow him eagerly while he moans, grasping your hair.

Brendon helps you to your feet, and you both collapse on the couch intertwined. “You’re incredible,” Brendon marvels.

“So I’ve been told,” you giggle, tracing down his arm.

The band barges into the dressing room, and you both groan. “You’re ruining our afterglow,” you whine.

Nicole rolls her eyes. “C’mon, we’re going to an afterparty at some label guy’s mansion. Get up. You can fuck at home.”

Zack nods. “Yes please, you two need to learn how to behave and keep your hands to yourselves. A night of illegal drugs will be good for you.”

You smirk, turning to Brendon. “Hey Brendon?”

“Yes, love?”

“Do you happen to know how many bedrooms this mansion has?”

#brendon urie smut #brendon urie fanfiction #brendon urie imagine #brendon urie x reader #long post

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misguidedswagger · 2 years

Text

trust: chapter 1

a/n: hi! i’ve been gone for a VERY long time, i know, but i’m back with this! idk if anyone’s gonna wanna read it, but oh well lol. i found out live in denver was remastered and now my ryan ross obession is back full force lol, enjoy!

warnings for this story include: angst, smut, cheating, and more. read at your own discretion.

trust masterlist

entire masterlist

w.c: 2,085

Brendon, Jon, Ryan, and Spencer sat and listened to the studio version of the album that they'd created together. Nervously, they stared ahead at the older male who listened intently to their music, staying completely silent. Once the demo album had finished, the eldest clicked pause on the computer to prevent the tracks from looping, and leaned back on the couch before nodding and clasping his hands together. The four barely-out-of-high-school boys had matching racing heart rates as they waited in anticipation for him to say anything at all. Every moment of silence felt like an eternity.

"I've gotta sign you guys. You have such an excellent sound that the world needs to hear. Don't even get me started on how phenomenal your lyrics are," He turned to Ryan, nodding at him as he kept talking, "You're so young yet so poetic. I dig it, man. Keep up the good work." Pete said, a large smile overtaking his face. An honored smile slowly wriggled its way onto the tallest member's face as he looked down at his hands, embarrassed and nervous, yet grateful.

Brendon was the first to shoot up and yell, "Are you serious?! Hooooly shit!" He laughed giddily, Spencer and Jon high-fiving as Ryan sat in shock, voiceless. Brendon pulled him up and gave him a very tight hug, "Dude, thanks to your awesome lyricism, we're going places!" Ryan still hadn't been able to speak, but when he opened his mouth to attempt such, Pete stood up and grabbed the phone buzzing in his back pocket and glanced at it before making a quick exit, "Sorry guys, gotta head to my own rehearsal. Talk soon." The boys had all nodded and basically yelled their gratitude as he walked away, and Brendon followed behind him to let Pete out, as they were at Brendon's house. Though, before Pete left the Urie house, he turned and spoke loud enough for the whole band to hear him, "And hey, congrats. Seriously."

Brendon nodded his thanks as he let the man out and turned back to his friends and bandmates. For someone who never really knew when exactly to be quiet, Brendon was pretty much speechless, minus some excited laughs. He pulled everyone into a hug, to which everyone gratefully partook in. Though, a kind and gentle voice interrupted their excitement and celebratory hug,

"Woah, I leave the house for like two hours and everyone's hugging. Everything okay-" Before she could properly formulate her question, the younger girl was swept off of her feet by her older brother, causing her to giggle. "Jesus, Brendon, what the hell happened? You finally get laid?"

Her comment caused the boys to laugh, including her obnoxious older brother. "Pete just left–"

It was her turn to interrupt now, "Did you guys get signed?!" Brendon's words dissolved into excited giggles and he nodded emphatically. She squealed in excitement and hugged him tightly.

"So, is it just a Urie thing to interrupt each other, or...?" Ryan finally spoke up, mostly directing his comment towards Spencer and Jon rather than the two siblings. The two siblings' hug broke and the girl laughed at her brother's best friend's comment.

Ryan felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of her laugh, but he turned his head away once his and her eyes connected. She couldn't see him blush. Her brother would kill him if he found out how Ryan felt.

Y/n Urie was untouchable, deemed so by her protective older brother. It bothered Ryan to extraordinarily painful degree, the fact that he'd never be able to have Y/n all to himself, he'd never be able to take her on meaningful dates, to be able to kiss her beautiful face, touch her incredibly stunning body, be the man she told her deepest secrets to, or anything remotely similar.

A year ago, Brent fucking Wilson ruined that for him, and he'd never forgive him for that. Brent and Y/n had dated for about 3 years, and Y/n loved him with all of her soul, and Brent acted like he loved her all the same, until New Year's Eve.

Keltie Knight. A girl that the Urie's, and Ryan grew to hate.

Y/n had been looking everywhere for her boyfriend, as she wanted to kiss him as the year changed, she walked around the party, opening several doors, calling for him. She finally opened a bedroom door and found her so-called love of her life on top of Keltie, and she felt her heart absolutely shatter at the sight. Her world began to spin. Who knew that in a party with blaring music, the sound of a heart splintering could still be heard?

The worst part? Brent showed absolutely no remorse. As he kept his pace, pleasing the girl beneath him, he held eye contact with Y/n. Y/n dropped the cups she was holding and ran out of the house, pushing past her very concerned older brother and his best friend.

Brendon felt his chest tighten in anxiety and worry as he looked at Ryan, he tilted his head towards the doorway Y/n ran through and started speed walking in the direction she had come. "Make sure she's okay." Brendon spoke before turning back around.

Ryan sprinted out of the house, following Y/n's footprints in the snow, "Y/n!" He called after her before she turned to him, the moonlight highlighting the tears that now cascaded down her cheeks. Ryan lost every sentence he'd prepared as he looked at the girl he'd loved, truly distraught.

So he did what he thought best, he held his arms open for her. She ran into his arms and sobbed her heart out as Ryan pet her hair soothingly, "Hey...Shhh, let it out, sweetheart. I'm here. Talk to me, what's going on?"

Ryan didn't mean to use a pet name on her, it just kind of slipped. He felt his face heat up in embarrassment before he mentally smacked himself; his girl, his best friend's sister, was very clearly upset over something and he was making things about himself. How selfish could he be? He couldn't help that Y/n truly brought out the protective side in him.

Y/n didn't realize that Ryan called her 'sweetheart', or if she did, she said nothing about it. She only pressed her face deeper into Ryan's chest, feeling if she hid her face far enough into him she'd forget what she'd just seen and felt.

Ryan lightly tapped her shoulder before he pulled her back a little bit to look her in the eyes as he cupped her face. "Y/n?" He pressed gently, causing her to take a deep breath as Ryan used the pad of his thumbs to wipe the tears under her eyes.

"Brent...Brent and Keltie Knight..." was the only thing she could muster before she collapsed in on herself, sobbing even harder than she previously was.

With as few words and she had used, Ryan pieced together what happened and held her as tightly as he could. Anger raged through his bloodstream and he felt his body start to heat up from pure fury.

Ryan then realized how cold the girl in his hold was. Ryan took off his gray sweater, placing it over the shaking girl's shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her once more and rested his chin on her head before sighing softly, "I know the last thing you want to do is go back in there, but you're freezing, Y/n. Plus, Brendon was really worried about you."

She only nodded against his chest before pulling away and smearing her already smudged makeup with the back of her hand. She held Ryan's hand tightly, and she looked up at him.

They've always said the eyes are the window to the soul, Ryan would know. He knew almost every poetic saying there was: that saying was loud and true, especially right now. His heart cracked into little slivers as he could see how broken the younger girl truly was.

She squeezed his hand tightly and he glanced down before looking back up at her, "Please don't let go." She quietly begged, causing him to nod.

He forced his feelings, heart racing and all, to steady. He couldn't believe how his body was betraying him, Y/n was just cheated on and he couldn't keep his thoughts from swimming.

"I promise I won't." Ryan affirmed, squeezing her hand back.

Ryan guided her back to the house and the music that was previously blaring was now completely off, or turned down. Ryan and Y/n could hear the loud booming of a crowd and the grunting and yelling of two males, the sound of skin to fist echoing into the dark night.

The two made their way back into the house and shoved their way to the front of the circle that'd formed. Ryan, the taller of the two, spotted their friends, Jon and Spencer and made their way over to him. Spencer, like another older brother to Y/n, took her from Ryan's grip, and she momentarily let go of Ryan's hand. She pulled away before moving over to Ryan, taking his hand again and hiding in his chest once more.

She tilted her head slightly, watching the fight in front of her, for her unfolded.

Her brother was on top of Brent, punch after punch landing into his nose. Brendon was unscathed, which surprised even Brendon himself. He was smaller than Brent, which had both advantages and disadvantages. Brendon was more agile due to karate, but he was a little weaker. At least, typically he was, but seeing his supposed friend, who was dating his sister, cheating on her unapologetically activated a different type of adrenaline in him.

Brent was bleeding and started to swell like a dropped fruit. "How could you do that to her?!" Brendon shouted down at him, another blow landing into Brent's face, "She and I fucking trusted you!" Another hit.

And another.

And then, Brendon stood up.

He walked over to Y/n and pulled her into a hug, still staring at Brent. He hadn't seen her and Ryan holding hands. A good thing. Especially right now. Ryan would've been lying if he said the cuts and blood on Brendon's hands didn't freak him out, at least a bit.

He walked Y/n towards the door before stopping at Brent's barely conscious body and kicking into his side as hard as he could, spitting on him. He wrapped his arms around Y/n once more, Ryan, following after the two.

As they got into the car, Brendon slid into the driver's seat, looking at Y/n in the rearview mirror, "I'm so sorry, Y/n, I won't let another one of my friends hurt you."

An elbow to the side knocked Ryan out of his reverie, and with a grunt of pain, he let out an irritated, "What?"

Jon snorted before gesturing towards Y/n who was now standing in front of him, no longer in the arms of her brother,

"I said, are you allergic to anything? I'm making a celebratory cake for you all! Pay attention, Ross!"

Ryan did his best to keep his composure, he rolled his eyes and shoved her playfully, "Obviously not, shouldn't you know this already?" He teased, smiling at her.

"Just making sure. Not trying to hide your dead body if you actually are allergic to something I make." And with that, she turned away and headed toward the kitchen, Spencer and Brendon following after her, excited to eat her awesome cake.

Jon lingered back for a moment with Ryan, "You gotta be careful man. I can't always save you." And then he headed towards the kitchen too.

Shit, was it that obvious he was thinking about her? There were some things she did that made him feel like she could possibly feel the same about her: the small stolen glances at him, the laughing sincerely at his jokes, making sure he was never left out of a conversation, the reassuring hand squeezes when he was nervous, the excited hugs. Man, her hugs were heavenly.

Jon was the only one who knew how Ryan felt about Y/n, hell, Jon was the only one who knew their song 'Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off' was really about Brent and Y/n, and not him and his ex girlfriend. Jon knew everything and helped Brendon know nothing.

Ryan knew he needed to relax and hide his feelings better, but, come on!

She was wearing Ryan's sweater.

That had to mean something, right?

Right?

#ryan ross #ryan ross afycso era #ryan ross afycso #ryan ross x reader #ryan x reader #spencer smith #a fever you can't sweat out #ryan ross fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader #jonathan walker #brent wilson #brendon urie #panic at the disco #patd x reader #live in denver #x reader fanfiction

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lazyjellyfish300 · 1 month

Text

The Woman He Didn't Choose Part 3 🥀

Bachelor!Miguel O'Hara x Fem contestant!Reader

Synopsis: back on the beaches of Paradise, Miguel prepares to face you for the first time since breaking your heart in front of millions during his time as the Eligible Suitor. Word count 3.1k 🖤 one of the scenes is inspired by the casino night episode of The office between Jim and Pam.

A/N: If you're unfamiliar with the show Bachelor in Paradise, here's a clip to give you an idea. Basically, it's another dating show usually in a tropical location where single people couple up, and new arrivals come in every so often and ask people on dates to shake things up, leading to drama and chaos, and couples can choose to stay together or break up in the end and there's typically an engagement. DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO RIGHTS TO THE SHOWS THE BACHELOR OR BACHELOR IN PARADISE, ALL RIGHTS TO THE OWNERS. I CHANGED THE NAME OF THE SHOW IN THE STORY.

TW: MINORS DNI, ANGST, SMUT (DRY HUMPING, FINGERING, CUMMING IN PANTS, SPANKING, FANTASIZING) JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, PINING, DANGER, BULLYING, HEARTBREAK) sorry if I forgot anything...

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 4

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Thud...thud...thud....

"I...okay come on now...Mig...jeez. Get a grip!" Jess weakly tries to yank Miguel away from the bar which he was starting to pathetically knock his head against, the feeling in his body becoming deadweight; the buzz from the tequila partially responsible as he slumped backwards towards Jess.

"Aaaa! Noir-HELP!"

Jess jumped out of the way, no match for Miguel's huge frame and Noir was too sluggish and he toppled backwards off his bar stool onto the ground with a small thump.

Noir and Jess looked down at the dazed expression on his face. A man tortured by Cupid laying in the sand, shirt half unbuttoned.

"You know, she had to watch you makeout with a different woman every single Monday for twelve weeks?" Noir points out. "Sometimes even back to back-woof."

Miguel blinks at him in response.

"Seriouslyy though, not to mention the fairytale suites when you literally hooked up with two other women." Jess adds. "Honestly, you deserved this one."

Miguel starts to groan, mumbling incoherent word jumbo, the inflections in his voice raising higher in pitch, making him sound like a giant baby as he rubbed circles in his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Noir and Jess look at each other. It was gonna be a long night with this one.

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You and Peter keep getting busy by the pool, everyone stayed clear of a 50 foot radius while your passionate escapade went on, the sounds you were making were painfully obvious.

You were straddling Peter still, one of his hands in your swim suit bottoms as he curled two fingers inside your soft pussy. Peter looked up at you, your bouncing breasts, the soft texture of your skin, God everything about you was completely divine in this moment as you rode his lap.

"Fuck...." He bit his lip as he thrust his hips, synchronizing them with yours. "You're close baby, aren't ya...? Talk to me, beautiful...."

"Peter...." The pretty sounds you were making became more breathy. You brought your own hands to your tits, squeezing them, giving them a caress, putting on a show for him as you erotically lolled your head backwards.

"Good God...." Peter's mouth slowly inched open, leaning back just a little so he could get a better view, the burning hickory color in his eyes completely overtaken by carnal desire, making him look so sexy in the dark.

"I could get used to watching you do that, baby...." He panted harder, adding his thumb to your clit.

You whined sharply and he pulled you down closer, groaning as he felt your breasts squish against his chest, you nearly shoved your tongue down his throat but this only excited him further. He gave a low sensual growl into your mouth at the sensation. "So eager...mmm I'm loving this..."

"Yeah baby?" You coo sweetly into his ear, letting him hear your impassioned moans.

"Fuck.... yeah..." Peter groaned, his hand landing another sharp spank on your ass, his fingers locking around your ass cheek right after it made contact. "Cum all over my hand, sweetheart..." he said through clenched teeth.

"Peter..." You plead, the peak of your arousal nearly reached with the way his thumb gently kneaded your clit, delivering waves of wetness between your thighs. "I wanna cum on your cock..."

"Oh my God...." Peter shut his eyes, that fiery coil building momentum in his body, he was close to his end as well. "I'll let you cum on my cock later, baby...I promise..."

"Please, Peter?"

"I know, beautiful...I know... it's okay, lovely girl..." He bites his lip again, curling his body deliciously below you. "Cum on my hand for me... just like this..."

You scream his name and give him just that, your warm arousal leaking all over him, and he cums in his swim trunks. He groans loudly, grabbing you by your neck with his free hand. You jerk towards him harshly at first, then the movement is more gentle as you meet him in a tender kiss. You melt as your tongues dance once more. You can't resist a cheeky smile in between kisses, a faint chuckle rolling off his lips into your mouth as he cutely brushes his nose against yours.

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The cameras focus on you and Peter making your way down the stone steps onto the beach where the rest of the couples were hanging out. You had a huge smile plastered on your face, your fingers tangled with Peter's as one of his arms rested comfortably around your shoulder, holding you close. Your unofficial first entrance as the newest couple in Paradise.

"Here-sit up." Jess hits Miguel's stomach with the back of her hand when she sees you and Peter approach, and he corrects his slouch and sits up proudly in his seat, his large pecs pushed up in a slightly comical matter.

"You're overdoing it..." Jess murmurs out of the corner of her mouth. Miguel gulps and relaxes his shoulders a little bit, his heart beating out of his chest as he sees you face to face for the first time in months.

All eyes are on you and Peter as people stand up from around the beachside bonfire, cheering for you two. Felicia squeals and runs up to you. You giggle and give her a hug and tug her back towards the tiki bar where you two go to catch up on the spicy events with Peter that just transpired.

Ben pats the seat next to him, gesturing for Peter to sit down with a smirk on his face. "Well?"

Peter just nods silently, a huge smile breaking out on his lips and the tops of his cheeks turning a healthy red.

"My man...." Ben slaps Peter on the back and hands him a beer, a snap and fizz as the can cracks open. "I'm happy for you buddy...let's drink to that." They laugh loudly and clink their beer cans together.

From across the fire pit, MJ's face remains neutral, although an intangible aura of tension hangs around her. She starts to blink rapidly as she tries to not give away her obvious jealousy, turning her attention to George next to her instead who's yapping loudly with Web-Slinger, cringing internally when she hears the problematic quality of the drunken jibberish he's spouting off.

Miguel's face and chest gets hot again as he watches Peter and Ben, his jaw tense. Then, he looks over at you, playfully gossiping with Felicia. He stands up, slowly walking towards you two at the bar, his fingers tightening around the now sandy and slightly wilted rose he dropped earlier.

In your peripheral vision, you sense someone approaching. You turn your head just a little, locking eyes with the target, nod, then turn back to face Felicia. Your neck nearly breaks when you jerk your head to look back at the target again, realizing it's not just anyone.

It's Miguel.

Your biggest heartbreak, the one who sat at the back of your mind at all times. His voice and his words a record that your ears forced you to listen to over and over again. The man responsible for humiliating you in front of millions of people behind a TV screen. The man who promised you the world and planted visions of a fairytale ending in your head then did a 180 the next day. The man who quite literally ripped your heart in half, repeatedly, forced you to watch him develop feelings, get physical and whisper sweet nothings to other women week after week as the show aired.

Your Roman Empire standing before you in the form of rich scarlet eyes, a chiseled jaw, and that damned shy smile that was tugging at your heart strings, even now despite the months of torment he brought you.

"Hi...." He says softly, eyes not wavering from yours. He was looking at you like you were the only person on that beach. Felicia's jaw fell open, the cameras were painfully close to your face, capturing your deer in headlights expression as you reacted in real time to this unbelievable twist of fate.

You remain a statue as he gently lifts his hand, offering you the lightly soiled rose. "Can we go talk, please?" His voice reduces to a whisper, the pleading in his tone emphasized by the way his eyebrows crinkle in the middle, those crimson eyes in an expression mimicking a sad puppy.

You feel your knees get a little weak as your neck slightly cranes to look at him, his countenance reducing you to a puddle, but you realize immediately that you need to stay strong, don't be so fast to lower the drawbridge to your heart just yet. This man didn't choose you, and here he conveniently was right when you thought you had a spark for someone else.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, your eyes narrowing, tone crisp and sharp. Miguel takes a deep breath, prepared to meet your figurative blade you had pointed at him in self defense.

"It's a long story. I'll explain everything if you let me?" The corners of Miguel's eyes soften even more, every bit of his body language is submissive, begging, pleading with you to hear him out.

Felicia looks at him incredulously, her icy eyes flicker to you, trying to read your expression.

"Don't do it..." she mutters to you quietly.

Miguel clearly heard what she said, but that doesn't stop him from still staring at you, holding his breath.

Your eyes move to Felicia and you place your hand on her forearm, gently pushing your cocktail towards her.

"Just trust me...I got this..." you mutter back.

Felicia nods slowly, taking your cocktail in her hand. She shoots one last suspicious glare in Miguel's direction and walks back towards the bonfire to sit next to Ben, who's laughing loudly with Peter, both of them not paying any attention to what's going on.

Miguel offers his arm to you but you shake your head, crossing your arms as you both walk side by side along the beach, the waves gently crashing as the nighttime descends along the shore. One of the cameramen keeping a healthy distance behind you.

"So?" You say, keeping your eyes straight ahead, concentrating on some of the rocky cliffs in the distance. "What happened with Xina?"

Miguel sighs. "I ended it."

"You ended it?" you ask, slightly surprised at the revelation. "Thought you were in love..."

"I was..." Miguel said curtly. You feel your heart skip at the past tense of his words.

"What happened?"

Miguel blows out air slowly from his nostrils. "She wasn't who I thought she was. I realized we were incompatible."

You raise your eyebrows. You know him well enough to know there's more to the story. You'd get it out of him later when the cameras were off.

"Well, sorry to hear that." You say, feigning sympathy.

Miguel tries not to smile, thankful the darkness is concealing his face. He also knows you well enough to know that you certainly aren't sorry for him in the least. "So, you and Peter, huh?"

You smile, looking down at the sand. You both come to a stop in the middle of the beach, now quite a ways away from the others, the moon keeping watch above you, a camera zoomed in on your face.

"Yeah..." you say, trying not to go into too much detail. "He caught me by surprise. We have a lot in common, so... I think I'm going to give this a shot." you nod, looking up at Miguel.

Miguel is completely disappointed by this, but he nods, doing his best to conjure up a smile.

"I'm happy for you."

A lie.

"I hope that things go well with you two."

Another lie.

"You deserve to be happy."

The truth, even if it cut him a million times to say it out loud.

"Thanks, Miggy..." You whisper.

God, he would kiss you right now if he could. Why'd you call him by his damn nickname? Miguel's hands bunch into fists in his swim trunk pockets. His eyes go a little half lidded as he looks down at you. Heartbreak aside, you looked absolutely magnificent under the beach moonlight.

Under different circumstances if he wasn't so foolish, you two would be in a location like this on your honeymoon, where you two wouldn't have any responsibilities besides letting the sun bathe your skin, and he'd keep your wine glass full, weaving pretty tropical flowers into your hair as you sat across from him at some lively outdoor restaurant on the waterfront.

Where every night he'd take you to the shared cozy bungalow you two were staying in, groaning and biting his lip at the sight of your strapless maxi dress being tugged down the curves of your body, your lips parting, calling for him, begging for him to be inside...

"Can we be friends?" You ask.

Miguel huffs, his fantasy brought to an abrupt halt, bringing him back to his less than ideal reality. "Don't do that..." Miguel shakes his head, looking upwards in defeat. "I want more than that..." He whispers, a lump forming in his throat.

God, how much you wanted to just pretend like the last several months didn't happen and wrap your arms around him in that moment, too. But you know you can't. You owed it to yourself to see this through with Peter. It was time to put yourself first. "Well...I can't..."

Miguel shakes his head, cutting you off. "I don't wanna hear it...sorry." Miguel sighs.

You nod, understanding that every word that came from your mouth would just be a dagger to him. You stand there with him in uncomfortable silence.

Miguel thinks deeply for several more moments, then speaks, "Maybe one day, we could work towards that..."

In his mind he knows damn well he's not referring to being just friends. He's smart enough to know that if he truly wants to win you back, he'll cut his loss and remain civil and friendly. Then, and maybe just then, this little "fling" you have going on with Parker will fizzle out and he'll be there, ready to catch you.

You look at Miguel, a little surprised at his change in demeanor but you welcome it, happy that things don't need to remain bitter between you.

"Absolutely..." You hold your hand out to him, a friendly truce. "We're good?"

Miguel nods. "Good..." He echos.

You two shake hands and your lips part slightly at the warmth of his palm and how tightly he wraps his fingers around yours. The corner of Miguel's mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly as he pulls you closer to him, a little bait and switch behind this supposedly platonic handshake.

You're helpless, drowning in the ruby waters of his eyes, the oceanic atmosphere making him all the more tempting.

He's helpless too, a situation he was trying to avoid altogether but he put himself in it anyway. He'd put up with seeing you all over Peter if it meant you'd still be within arm's reach. He'd be the broom and dustpan for you at a moment's notice the moment Peter carelessly dropped your heart. There was a good chance it would happen since he knew Peter was as stuck on MJ as he was on you.

Felicia calls for you, and your intimate moment is interrupted, Miguel stifling a sigh of defeat as you whip your head in her direction. You start walking back rapidly towards the bonfire, picking up the pace when you see Felicia is frantic, the cameraman struggling to keep up with you.

"It's Jess..." Felicia huffs, out of breath. "She's sick, we gotta go make sure she's okay... there's an ambulance here and everything!"

Your heart drops to your stomach and you look at Miguel, also worried at the sudden change of events, hoping all is well.

You three scurry towards the resort entrance, but the ambulance is already pulling away. Ben is hanging his head grimly, walking towards you, Felicia, and Miguel. "She's gone to the hospital, Noir is with her..."

You bring a hand over your mouth in shock. Felicia lets out a soft whimper in sadness for her friend. Ben wraps Felicia into a hug. Miguel looks at you with worried eyes, going to place his hand on your shoulder in consolation but he freezes when he sees Peter approaching.

"Hey, you..."

"Oh!" You're caught a little off guard when Peter sweeps you into an embrace, Miguel turning around in the opposite direction. You close your eyes and relax, wrapping your arms around Peter's waist. "Will she be okay?"

Peter looks at you, carefully brushing hair out of your eyes. "I think so...don't worry, she's at the hospital getting the best care in the world."

You nod and smile, looking up at him. The group stands around for a bit, murmuring in confusion, Miguel awkwardly on his own, trying not to make eye contact with you as he paces in place.

The host, Jason Donner, speaks in a voiceover:

"Next time, on Singles in Paradise..."

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Felicia runs across the wooden bridge connecting the resort bungalows, nearly tripping into the shiny swimming pools on either side of the walkway.

"New arrival! New arrival! Wake the fuck up! There's a new arrival!"

You and Miguel are sipping smoothies in the common area, awkwardly sitting on opposite sides of the couch when Felicia runs in, huffing and puffing... "New girl...just arrived..."

Before you can ask who or what, Felicia's already disappeared leaving both you and Miguel puzzled.

A small brunette walks in. Her hair is in a bob cut with fiery blue eyes. She has a pearly white smile and a stringy pink bikini. You get a rotten feeling in your stomach.

"Dana?" Miguel asks. His eyebrows raising in surprise.

Why the fuck did it have to be Dana...she was one of the villains during Miguel's season. She was eliminated probably only on week 3 but she was AWFUL. Just plain rude. She would smile sweetly and ask the other women where they got their outfit only for her to say it was the ugliest fucking outfit she ever saw in her camera confessionals.

Boasting loudly how she'd gladly fuck Gabriel if she ever had the chance, making you and the rest of the women in the house totally uncomfortable. The complete opposite of a girl's girl. A real pick me.

She waltzes up to Miguel, completely ignoring you, a date card in her hand. "Miguel! Wanna go chat?"

No....

Miguel looks bewildered but he smiles politely, nodding as he stands up. She takes his arm, looking up at him with doe eyes as they walk away. Miguel glances at you then looks straight ahead.

Jealousy sinks its fangs into your neck once more...

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@miguelhugger2099 @kodo1221,@mimiemie @laysmt @cheerrioeoz @spicydonut25 @thisistotesnotspam-heart , @famouscattail @thekidscallmebosss @librababe99 @ce3stvu @irishbl0ss0mz @nommingonfood @mauvecherie-writes @royale-skeleton-key @thesilenthill @dimitri-needs-therapy @a-lil-whore @aisyakirmann @sylveon-of-heart @hobiebrowns-wife @weirdothatwritess @reader-1290 @thesmutconnoisseur @koyukilove

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@stellasloth @migueloharasoulmate , @cynwing

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