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Brendon Urie imagines & ficlets

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You pull his shirt out of his pants, unzip his fly, hand going straight under his...panties...satin ones. He just waggles his eyebrows, grinning. God, you're thinking of teasing him through them later as you wrap around his mostly hard length, and he rocks shamelessly into it. Rub your sex on him through them. Pull them down and peek his dick out of them, like you're doing now. Stroke your hand over him--his dick's so silky. Lube him up--fuck knows you're wet enough for both of you. Your other hand paws at his hip. "Get your damn pants off," you grin.

You don't need to tell him twice; he sits up, flinging his pants off, wet panties too. You manage to get up on your knees, lean over, suck him about halfway down, jack him, working up saliva to get him nice and wet, as he rocks into it, and even his heavy breathing is sexy. His moans when you lick over his tip, the desperate groans, the shaking when you rub your tongue over the frenulum...you smile and moan around him too. His hand finds your hair, but you pull off to his "fuck, such a tease," hips bucking into your grip, kiss him, slow, tongues stroking, tastes mingling as you both unbutton his shirt. You're still so lightheaded you'll collapse if you straddle his hips and slick him up with you and hump him like you were planning.

"Want you on top of me, Bren," you sigh, then giggle. "I'm getting old."

He snorts, shirt coming off, just looking at you as you splay out. "Nonsense...Mrs Robinson."

"Brendon!" you respond in mock outrage. "You're just such an energetic twink." You grin as he winks.

"Not my fault I'm such a beautiful man."

You giggle. "Not your fault you've got all the boys n girls coming to your yard." You kiss him, arms going around his neck, bringing him down with you. He parts, but just to get you completely naked too. So you were born the year of Depeche Mode's Speak & Spell, him of Music for the Masses. Hardly Mrs Robinson, but he was still an overjoyed pup physically and mentally, as if he was twenty and not thirty most of the time, even with his upcoming Kinky Boots run.

You wrap a hand around his dick, stroking his tip along your vulva, and he slides into your grip, panting into your mouth. "Baby boy..." You lightly circle him over your clit, but it's still a little much. You guide him down to your lower labia over the bulbs and--"fuccck..." You can feel yourself get wetter, that ache. "Get you soaked like I am..." You wriggle, press the tip past your rim, feet planting firmer on the mattress, pelvis bearing down on him, engulfing him, rocking. Thank you science for vasectomies. It was one of his presents to you on your first birthday with him.

"Fuck, y/n...I'll be lucky to last a minute here."

"Jesus, B," you gasp, his pelvis now flush with yours. "Think you can hold still then? Let me just feel you?"

He groans, biting his lip, still rocking, nudging your cervix. "Ok, yeah, ok. Fuck."

You squeeze around him repeatedly, breathing deep as he swears, finds your hips, thumbs stroking. You stroke over his back, his ass, squeezing it too--"dat ass," you giggle--fingers slipping between his cheeks, massaging, and he whimpers. "Think I'll get the lube n finger you open later, use it to jack you off too. Make your dick taste like peaches or strawberry, and you know how much I love fruit," you murmur, kissing over his face and neck. Luckily you're both giant goobers. And that was a clever hint about the other part of later if you do say so.

You just circle over him, him inside as far as he'll comfortably go, just reveling in the sensations of your cervix and walls and labia massaging and being massaged by his dick, getting subtly to internal parts of your clit, your flushed clit and lips rubbing over his pubic bone too. "Get our toys out too, see how quick I can make you come with a bullet vibe on your frenulum. Wring another out of ya with a prostate toy of yours."

"Fuck, babe, talkin' like that will make me come..." he murmurs into your neck.

You bet if you stilled, you could feel his dick twitch inside you, so close, aching, so you do, teasing you both, and you're right.

"Should I let you come like this, or should I make you wait?"

"Shit. It's my birthday, y/n."

You shift, grab and raise his hips, so he's only a couple inches in. "Is that a now or...?"

"It's a now...just a question of how quick...pretty much anything would make me come soon."

"Not too much yet, B..." Those intense orgasms, that fingering open from before really helped; you still feel lax. You like squeezing down on him, getting on top and bouncing, then rocking, then bouncing, laying out and having him rub all over and inside you, guiding him in and over you, by hand or word or both. You usually like switching back and forth. It's a heavenly combination. Especially those bulbs, the pressing on your bladder, the cervix strokes, your full labia hugging his penis, and you love his dick between your thighs, your vulva pressing on him, his balls on your vulva, dick between you both. You love how much he finds everything so sexy and straight up worthwhile. How he would let you get fingers, even toys inside him, liked it so much, including while he was in you. Tell you to ride his thigh, or roll over and present one of his best assets for you to rub on too. How often he'd go down on you, at any time, keeping you all wet. Getting you ridiculously turned on, helping you come and come. Fucking hell.

Your rim gets sore easily, and even the walls sometimes, even with him being a bit thinner than average, and your cervix can't take deep thrusting (talk about pain with the average and bigger guys who wouldn't listen, wouldn't stop), even with him being quite shorter than average. Plus your age. It had embarrassed and inhibited you for years, made you feel half-broken: not being able to take dick like you should, even as a grown ass woman. Then you realized that was a male bullshit trip, including the Cosmo style "You go girl! Feel empoweredTM and be sexy just how the boys and we tell you to (and spend time, money and endure pain to do it)" garbage.

You preferred the outside stuff, the outercourse, and oral, and hands, and other rubbing, order of preference shifting, and intercourse wasn't way down the list, so you wouldn't want to give it up entirely. Especially with how it was with him, how good he was at not having it hurt, having it feel so good. Those fluid, subtle movements of both your hips. Grinding on him. Generally only taking him partway in, maybe wrapping fingers around his base, everything wet. How magnanimously he got the vasectomy just based on you worrying you've been on hormones too many years, saying he probably should have years ago, him never complaining about condoms before that (and well, you still used them, just usually for bum fun on him). You not wanting to at all or only in certain ways.

He just loved fucking you, every kind and in every way you wanted to. Neither of you thought in clear numbers or narrow definitions for fucking, just had these big (sometimes medium when you didn't have hours) fuck sessions that most people would say usually had no fucking, doing whatever you felt like doing, and little fucklets when you just had minutes, but couldn't keep your hands/mouths/genitals/thighs/everything else off each other.

You keep thinking as you just wriggle around with him halfway in, telling him to slide in, or engulfing him, then out, rubbing over the outside of your swollen pussy, back in at various depths, as he moans and pleads and gasps. You love seeing and hearing how crazy the things you do get him, how much he loves being stroked with and rubbing along your hands, labia, mouth and tongue and lips, vagina, thighs, even between your asscheeks. You take him out, just slide your labia along his shaft, avoid the tip, when he gets close, too shakey and noisy, hips going, managing several times before he's moaning "Oh, god, I'm gonna--" spurting over your snatch. You jack him wetly through it, gliding his tip firmly along your labia, calling him your sexy boy. You try to avoid the frenulum; soon after, it is just too intense for him to be touched there. He doesn't beg off until he's been limp for a while, your pussy still rocking over him as you cup his balls, run your other hand over his hips and thighs and ass.

"Messy pup," you whisper, wrapping your legs and arms around his lax, sweaty nakedness, petting and gently scratching his back. You suck on your fingers, loving how your juices mingle.

You pet his hair and he grins sleepily. "Will just have to clean up later. Question is how?" He licks his lips, kisses you, licks into your mouth, and what a hint as to how.