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Brendon Urie imagines & ficlets

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You stroke his perineum, palm his balls, other hand focused on sliding the foreskin and tip wetly over each other. Kiss his pelvis, lips sucking and rubbing over his length, delighting in his flushed chest and stomach.

“Oh fuck...y/n...” You can feel him get firmer, pulse, contract, spurt. Not a big one considering the three days, a slow but surprising one. You catch the end with your mouth after it lands on his thighs, pubes, dick and your shoulder, hand, cheek, you bet your hair too... Your noisy shaky baby boy... “Jesus Christ. Jesus,” he pants, as you kiss him more, lick up and rub the saltiness, sweat and skin and semen mixed, into his skin.

“Babe, fuck...c'mere...” His hands shift from your hair to shoulders, and you stand up too as he sways, light headed, still shaking. He kisses you, lapping it from your mouth, moves to your shoulder, breast, getting as much as he can. You stroke over him, pulling his panties up, squeezing his ass, finding his thigh, rocking a bit.

You kiss over your lovely boy's face, cradle him in your arms, and he leans into it. His head moving to your shoulder, body slumped, both of you holding him up, as you kiss over his hair, stroking his back. “Wish I could carry my baby over... Or I can piggyback you.”

“We can do it, y/n,” he says with a thick Hawaiian accent, giggles, turning, still leaning, pulling you to him. “That's fucking teamwork!”

“I swear to fuck, if you keep singing Fuck Her Gently...” You kiss him.

“Oh, how 'bout...” He launches into diva level high notes with “All I want for Christmas is youuuu.”

“Fabulous, darling...” He can sing not just higher than you, but you swear he matches Mariah when he pushes himself. “Another reason people think we're a fag hag and her fag.” You grin as you say it, glad he embraces that fact, holding his hands to bring him too as you sit down on the mat. Noisy plastic sheet. “You pick the oil...” you sigh, spreading out comfortably, grabbing a pillow for your head, eyes closing. Mmmm, mango-pineapple.

When he first touches you, your heart picks up, cunt pulse too, remembering everything you thought earlier. How is he so sexy?

“Hopefully it's warm enough for my fag hag,” he jokes.

“Mmmhmm...Tickles...in a good way...” Wrigging your butt and thighs to provide some stimulation on your vulva. Kisses follow his hands. Your neck, shoulders, collarbone, breasts. Fingertips, then sucking mouth, on your nipples. Thinking about doing the same to him next time, how responsive he is, lapping his small hard nipples, teasing over him until he's shivering, gasping... Everything feels so nice... More oil for your stomach, hips, sides, pelvis, his thumbs stroking, palms pressing as he calls you his good girl, so sweet for him... You're just as sweet as he is, you want to say, but just gasp, buzzing all over, as he kisses over your tummy, hands still working your hips. Whole pussy throbbing, aching but melting, and you don't need to come soon.

He circles around your mound, the outline of your panties with his oiled hands, upper thighs, hips, and your legs, through your haze, spread. “'M so ready, honey.” And finally. “Thank god, B...” you sigh as he rubs more oil over your mound through the silk, outer lips, your slick mixing with it.

“That's my girl...” And he starts singing All I Want for Christmas is You again, from the start, soft enough to soothe more. Rocking his open palm all over your pussy... He's your boy.

You tummy growls. “Feed me?” you giggle. “But alas, food, not your cock.”

“I would never!” he says dramatically, and you open one eye to see him looking scandalized. He kisses your lips, still touching your pussy, other hand stroking over thighs, hip, belly as you watch, eyes closing when he leaves. Strawberries with whipped cream meet your lips. He kisses your neck, breasts, tummy as you chew, feeding you more. Blueberries and raspberries too. “Can I...?” he trails off, sliding your panties to the side, stroking between the lips. You “mmmhmmm,” eyes opening when you hear him suck on a strawberry; warming it up, you realize. He moves them to the side again, brushing the berry over your outer labia. You spread more, legs in a diamond shape, and he slips into your heat. Sliding up and down a few times before finding your clit, circling, back down, back up, circling for longer, back down.

“Sweet baby Jesus...”

“Know your sweet, darlin...” He moves it away, and your eyes open again when you hear him sucking on it. “If anything, you're sweeter than this. Wanna taste?” He dips back over you. You do, and you gaze in each other's eyes as you suck softly, nibble, getting the juices. Circling a raspberry over your clit slowly before bringing it to your mouth. You are sweeter than them. He trails down your body as he gets a blueberry, slides it inside. Another, resting between your lips. Berries and cream in a bowl for you to munch on, sliding a raspberry in your mouth for your tongue to press into. He gets between your thighs, pulling the fabric aside again, tongue rolling the one between your labia, up, back down, then eating it as he eats you. Other hand entwining with yours and his lashes flutter open, gazing up at you as he kisses over what he can get too.

You stop eating to play with his hair and he hums, moaning softly into it, lips vibrating yours. You wriggle a little. “Fuck... you can take them off,” you sigh.

“That's my girl,” he murmurs, kissing over your mound before shifting to ease them down as you lift. He bites his lip, eyes heavy as he...oh god, brings the crotch of them to his mouth, sucking. You rub over your mound, upper lips, clit as you watch each other. He winks, tosses them aside, grins as he spreads you more, kisses over your thighs, hips, pelvis, wrist, hand, licks over your fingers, and you hold one out for him to slowly, firmly suck... “Fuck,” you sigh, palming yourself, the shivers going through you to your pussy as you moan out “fuck, Brendon..."

He slides off and you spread yourself, popping out your clit. He barely presses his tongue tip against it, and you wonder if he can feel the blood pulsing there, how swollen it is, because you sure can. He laps gently over, using lots of wetness, a few times, then switches to back n forth, and you take his hand again, squeezing, other in his hair, rotating your hips. “Circles, baby...fast n soft...” and he does... You like circles the best usually, with anything, tongue, finger, the tip of his dick...when you grind on him... “My sweet baby, my sweet boy,” you moan. “Oh god, B, don't stopdon'tstopfuckIneedI'mgonna—oh god fuck me like that, faster, fuckmeohfuuuuck...fuckfuck...” He switches to your labia as your contractions subside, letting you come down some, still trembling and panting. He doesn't even give you a minute before he's sucking over you firmer, moving till he gathers up your clit, lips sealed, sucking and sucking, rhythmically, quickly, and not too hard. Cupping your ass, kneading it as you rock into it for more, back when you need it gentler. Head, womb, pussy, everything throbbing as you burst again. “Oh, god, B...cmere...”

He moves over you, fingertips swirling circles over pussy before you wrap around him, pressing as much of him, including his half hard dick, to you as you can, wriggling, rocking, loving his weight on you. You pull his panties down his ass, and he eagerly takes the hint. Kissing him long and a lot, sharing your taste, the flavored lube. Faintly tasting the fruit, even him. Doing a drum roll on his bum, with sound effects, as you both giggle, then stroke, then squeeze. “My bestest squishie...” Kiss over his jaw, cheek, nose. “With the cutest nosie,” you sigh...fuck you love his skin on yours, feeling both your laughter, your breaths. Your soft, muscled, warm squishball cutie pie.

“My bestest, favouritest squishie,” he answers, lifting you both up for you to straddle and wrap around him and it's too soon--“Too dizzy, babe”--so he places you back down, grinning as he launches into a different song. Tenacious D again, but an even better one: Double Team. Kissing your neck, shoulder, rocking his underside along your snatch, making sure you're pressed together, the oil letting you slip along each other some easily. Both giggling a lot. B sometimes follows the action of the song, and you join in too.

“Really flowing, B,” you giggle. “Feel how wet I am?” you whisper, rocking back faster. Stroke his back, his ass, suck and kiss over his neck as you dip between his cheeks, rubbing softly. “Where's the incense? We can settle for candles.” Passably beat boxing a disco beat until you both fall into giggles.

“I'm not gonna rip my jeans, I'm gonna cream them.”

You chuckle at the mention of that I Ripped My Jeans song. “Ridiculous. No, ridiculously hot...seeing my horny boy come in his pants... Sex.”

“Have you ever been worked on/By two guys who are hot for your snatch?”

“Sex...And yes, many a time...” Mostly with him, and only with him since you got serious.