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Brendon Urie imagines & ficlets

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He often liked a bit of roughness like loving slaps, light bites, being pinned, hair tugging, scratches, his knees aching on the floor, being fucked every which way, including her riding his face, wrestling… It all felt so good in the moment. He only worried sometimes if it was because he was becoming deadened to softness how a lot of others were like Selena worried, especially men. (She was a moon goddess like she told him her name meant… Naked, protective, taking him over, guiding…) Shutting it down and having others shut it down. But he loved that softness too, wanted it even more than anything rough and he didn’t need that stuff. And it was still friendly, affectionate.

His girl friends, others he felt that stronger tugging with, would help him out of it with that caring, tenderness, if he felt like he did need or deserve it, felt lost, unworthy, the best they could. Jen cried from him being like that, and he had to try to be strong for her too, so they could hold each other, stroke, kiss, say how they felt, try to say the right thing back. He wasn’t sure if the mutual tipsiness made it better or worse.

“You really are a puppy…” she murmured with wonder, petting, kissing his face. Rubbing her eyes, sniffling, nuzzling over his neck, arms pressing him close, burrowing into him. “Thinking he deserves those kicks… When you’re a… fucking puppy. Or a mouse.” Playing with his hair. “Cutest mouse ever. Bden… Pouse.” Both giggling. His thigh squeezed by hers, him stroking her back, sensing she was wanting to, telling her it was ok, she could hump his thigh, making her chuckle. “I think I might be the puppy who always humps your leg…”

He hoped he always offered even more back than he took in. He wanted to serve, to be shown and taught, for girls to feel good with him, to open up, as much as they could.

He was worried about showing most of that with guys. A few girls over time had gone beyond unthinking into carelessly cruel with him, and he had been thoughtless too, still could be, but guys could really fuck you up. Even ones you were messing with as some girl friends and lovers told him. In their cases simply for being girls, especially if they were known as sluts. For him, for being weak, a faggot, for being too nice to girls even. Brittany and Leah said it was because they were jealous that girls liked the faggy boys more. They could use it to rip into you, put you through hell.

He also wanted to be friends, kind to each other, funny too, very… all over each other, never anything cruel, with sex or just as friends… a lot of girls liked that, but not a lot of guys. Many really didn’t like it and would let him know it not just with names, but shoves, trips, punches, threats of worse, of treating him like the faggot he was, the bitch he acted like.

He’d heard of femdom, even sought out porn of it, wondering if that was what he was into, was like, but it wasn’t that either. It all seemed to be women in dumb outfits punishing and humiliating men and getting them off. Not being themselves, not seeking pleasure, but doing what he wanted. At most for the woman, there’d be some oral, but she had to play this role of bitch from hell who tormented him to get it.

Most regular porn, at least in the moment and it was usually easy to get into said moment simply seeing them naked, all curves and softness, or being teased, touching those gorgeous pussies or being touched, spread open and inviting… Holy shit. Those occasional times they were paired with young, cute, more boy next door, easygoing guys who fucking moaned, showed how much they wanted her, and he couldn’t help, uh, noticing them too… (And that recent time he found Katy Kay’s gay porn stash folder open on her laptop: others’ slashfic, drawings, video… Pleasantly surprised most of it wasn’t anal or macho shit like he’d thought it’d be based on an earlier glimpse of gay porn that put him off it. He may have saved some of it to a thumb drive.) He thought that they liked it, enjoyed it, that the coming was real. Like those soft core videos and magazines that could be unintentionally hilarious and still sexy that a few of his guy friends’ dads had. Girls together, girls getting eaten out, 69ing, riding the guy or rubbing pussies, riding thighs, when eyes locked, massages … but… that wasn’t really in femdom.

If girls were actually leading things, it wouldn’t look like that. It would be what she wanted, chasing and getting pleasure, taking care of each other, getting lost with someone who wouldn’t use it to hurt.

He wanted to show them how good he was, how good guys should make girls feel, see and feel them shake, tremble, pant, grind, rock, tense up, come, everything. Wanted to know what felt best: touches, licks, sucks, kisses, which parts of her body, her pussy, which parts of him felt best on her, how… It’s how he tries to be: giving, pleasing, but goofy, “do with me what you will” enough they felt and were free.

He couldn’t name it, only describe it badly. It would look like women are together, he fully realized with Leah and Brittany, only… there could be some overt submission on the man’s part, and it’d be ok. Others would call it submission anyway. Surrendering? Welcoming female power?


He wants to keep giving in to yours too. “Know you’d do it so good too, like you fucked my dick…”

And this way, maybe you can 69 once you can’t sit upright anymore. Or let you rest your head, still over his face. Or he can lay you out on your back so you can relax. Fuck you back with his mouth like you’ll show him you like it by fucking his. He cups your ass, nudging you up, going “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You grin. You settle over him, and he can’t keep his hands off you, wanting to get buried in your pussy but not wanting to rush you.

“Honey, keep your hands away? Would that be ok? If I could just grind on you?”

He nods, biting his lip. Fuck.


Keeping his hands off you is easier said than done.

Shit, he wishes he could grab your hips or spread your thighs, that he had a hand free so he could spread your lips open better but you asked him to keep his hands under the pillow or to his sides, whichever was more comfortable. He wants to be such a good boy for you, do what you say, so you don’t even have him tied up. You didn’t suggest it, but the thought makes him shiver, his dick ache more. He’d do that too. Bet he’d love it. You told him not to touch so he doesn’t even though he wants to make you feel even better.

He doesn’t know when, how this shifted so surely into him being so… submissive, taken over, but it’s honestly not much deeper than he usually is with girls. With girls… there’s those added things, wanting to do almost whatever they want, let them use him to get off, to feel good… to varying degrees. It’s not usually this strong. Or maybe it’s usually buried deeper.

He loves how pussy feels and tastes, loves getting the wetness on his face, how she gasps, holds her breath, pants, moans, how her hips move, pressing to his scalp, pulling his hair, pressing him to her… And you, doing all that with him. Getting to taste you, hear your breathing, feel your hands in his hair, guiding his head, playing, tugging, scratching, with his scalp and hair, giving him gooseflesh, sending pleasure through him. It all combines to turn him on so much, get him moaning, panting almost as much as you.

He needs your lips and clit in his mouth, to lick inside you, over you, suckle you.

Fuck, he wonders how a man who claims to like women couldn’t like this. Some guys like it a lot, but he has never heard a guy actually say he’s loved it like he does. Some guys admitted to getting close to his level of love of it once he’s said he couldn’t get enough of it, but a lot of guys are neutral, even negative about it, and that’s a fucking… injustice. It makes him want to make up for it.

He had one girl, after he got her so crazy, telling him she must’ve come five times, and she’d never come that much before with a guy, that it was so great he was so good at it, so into it, so excited by it, because his mouth was fucking made for it. Leah and Brittany said the same, and took full advantage of his mouth and the rest of him. Most were shier, even feeling guilty about how long he loved to spend down there, making them feel good, easing or rushing or inbetweening orgasms out of them, licking and sucking their flesh, their juices.