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dweebobeebo-blog · 7 years ago

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I Love Her Anyway: Ch10

A/N: ack! sorry it’s an hour late, i had a busy day today. this chapter was inspired by an ask suggestion in my inbox, kudos to whoever came up with that naughty idea, this one’s for you ;)

the longass tag list: tag list: @cupcakesweetness @un-amoosed-padalecki @pettyiestpersonyouknow @amazingtyjo @converse-or-vans @uriellybrendon @rupphirerydenphan @loverontheleft @vessyvk @yagirlcammmm @brendonuriehimself @myaestheticsareshit @moveondontholdon @pageoftheclouds @lugialagia @galaxy-moonlight @timisnotmontydlc @jigglypuff1999 @geekybeauty8793 @echoloki @greatheromuffinpalace @svintsandghosts @kitykatnumber @dragonqueendany @mtb04308

After taking a nice evening swim in the jacuzzi, Brendon takes you inside and wraps you up in a fluffy robe as well as him, then sits you down for a nice dinner. His chef makes both of you a nice stir fry with veggies and noodles along with some dinner rolls and smoothies. Your head spins at just how good it tastes. Brendon then dresses you in your clothes again carefully and he changes into his own before picking up his keys and heading to the door.

“Come on,” he beckons.

“Wait- what?” you stare at him, confused. “It’s literally night time.”

“We’re going out,” he insists. He picks up your heels then tugs on your hand to get you out the door, handing them to you when you reach the garage. You roll your eyes and groan, reluctantly putting on your heels, not wanting to go out at all. He slides in his seat and revs up the engine, you settling in your seat.

“Where the fuck are we going?” you narrow your eyes, buckling in your seatbelt in the shotgun seat of Brendon’s car. “It’s literally eleven.”

“Exactly, it’s not even late,” he rolls his eyes. “Come on.”

“What if someone sees us?” you hiss. “What then? What if my fucking dad sees us? I told him I was at my friend’s!”

“Believe me, where we’re going your dad isn’t going to be there,” he insists.

“What are we doing?” you tilt your head to the side.

“It’s a surprise,” he says flatly. “And if I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore.”

“Right,” you nod sarcastically. “Okay.”

“What do you think it is?” he wonders, taking a turn.

“Well I don’t fucking know because you won’t tell me,” you pout.

“Guess,” he prods. “Come on, babe. Don’t be such an ass.”

“Fine,” you comply. “Um, clubbing? Oh my god. I swear, if you sneak me into a bar or try to give me a fake ID I swear to god Brendon-”

“We’re not clubbing,” he laughs, shaking his head. “God no.”

“Well where else would we go in the literal middle of the night?” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’ll see,” he winks. “Patience, my love.”

He pulls up to the last place you thought you’d ever enter in your entire lifetime. “No,” you shake your head. “No, no, no. There’s no way in hell I’m going in there.”

“Yes, you are,” he narrows his eyes. “Now come on.”

“Brendon!” you hiss. “There is no fucking way in hell I’m going into a sex shop. They’ll think you’re a child molester or something if you’re seen with someone as young as me! I doubt I’m even allowed to go in!”

“Oh fuck off,” his eyes turn cold.

“Okay I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like-” your words get caught in your throat. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re going inside,” he sighs. “And please, for the love of god, don’t act suspicious.”

“Okay,” you whisper. You still feel sour from offending him like that. You shouldn’t have said that. That probably hurt. A lot.

“Come on, princess,” he gets your car door for you. You get out and he takes your hand, instructing you to take a deep breath and that everything is going to be just fine. Sounds like a lie, but okay. You walk in, eyes instantly glued to the mannequins donned in leather and lace lingerie, ball gags strapped around their heads and whips in their hands.

“Kinky,” you smirk and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, no shit,” he scoffs. “Now come on.”

He takes you towards the back of the store, where a wall is lined with all sorts of sex toys labeled “Women’s Pleasures.” There’s dildos varying in lengths and shapes and colors. Butt plugs with rhinestones and animal tails and different designs. Vibrators created with different styles, settings, and sizes. You’re kind of overwhelmed. This was the type of stuff you only ever saw in porn. Brendon takes a step towards the wall, letting go of your hand, and you can barely breathe. He picks out a slender vibrator, one that’s covered in black silicone, with a simple three function control and an on and off button. He holds it in his hand then walks down the aisle without saying a word. You don’t speak either.

“Hello!” a cheery guy with giant gauges and snake bites approaches both of you, company logo of a little devil wearing lingerie sported on his shirt. “Searching for anything in particular?”

“No, just browsing,” Brendon gives a small smile.

“Alright then,” the worker nods. “Here’s a little shopping bag for you to place your items in. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” he replies. You’re shaking so bad, you don’t even notice that you’ve latched onto his hand. “Come on, babe. We’re not done here yet.”

He halts once he reaches another wall, this one labeled “BDSM.” It was something you had seen on the internet before, definitely in porn, but also while scrolling through some of your social media. Your breath hitches as you see him reach out for a pair of handcuffs, placing it into the bag before then brushing his fingers across a bundle of silver silk rope, adding that as well. You feel like you might explode. What the hell is he doing? He peruses a collection of whips and chains, gags and garters, before picking up a leather paddle. He places it along with the others. You feel yourself turn pale. Was he planning on using these on you?

“Brendon,” you mutter. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Getting supplies for tonight,” he simply responds.

“What?” you feel your knees grow weak. “T-tonight? Like tonight, tonight?”

“Yes darling,” he hums, running his fingers over a pair of nipple clamps before taking it off the shelf and adding yet another item. “Is this alright with you?”

“Y-yes,” you swallow awkwardly.

“Are you sure?” he pauses, pulling his hand away from the items. He’s still not facing you though. “You don’t have to say yes.”

“I’m sure,” you say in a soft voice. “I-I’ve always wanted to try this stuff but I’ve always been way too scared to ever do it. Plus, well, I’m young and I thought they were only ever in the… Uh the, um, those videos-”

“Videos?” he turns around, eyebrows raised. “You mean porn?”

“Well yeah,” you turn shy. “Yeah, porn I guess.” You cough as a cover up.

“You watch porn, little one?” he hums, lifting your chin up to face him.

“Sometimes,” you squeak out.

“Do you touch yourself when you watch porn?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” you repeat, voice even softer this time.

“Alright,” he retracts his hand and begins to walk down the aisle, making your heart thump in your chest. You feel like you could melt in a puddle onto the floor right there in the middle of the store.

You reach a section where another couple are, two girls holding hands and whispering in each other’s ears, cheeks blush red as they pick out a dark red lace bodysuit. It’s the lingerie section. “Ooh,” you can’t help but let out a small sound at the sight of a pastel pink leather thigh garter with tiny roses decorating the straps that catches your eye immediately. It’s so pretty and simple and cute it makes your stomach fill with butterflies. You imagine wearing it in the office with your skirts and thigh high socks, one of your button up blouses with your hair curled and cascading down your shoulders, a bright shade of pink lipstick to match. You can’t help but reach out to touch it.

“Do you like that one, sweetheart?” Brendon places a soft hand on your back. “You can get it if you’d like.”

“Really?” to turn to face him, already pulling it off the rack.

“Of course,” he lets out a small laugh. “I think you’d look quite beautiful in it.”

You stick it in the shopping bag and giggle like a small child, then lace your fingers with his as you walk through the store once again. “What time do they close?” you can’t help but whisper. “It’s like, almost midnight.”

“Midnight,” he responds. “Most shops do unless they’re twenty-four hours.”

“So you’ve been here before,” you murmur.

“Well yeah,” he nods. “How else do you think I got my toys?”

“You have toys?” your eyes almost bulge out of your sockets. “Like what?”

“It’s a secret,” he gives a small smile, getting in line to check out.

“No fair,” you narrow your eyes. “I want to know.”

“Maybe you’ll find out one day,” he chuckles. “But that day is not today.”

You watch carefully as the cashier pulls the items out of the cart and scans them one by one. The handcuffs, the silver rope, leather paddle, the nipple clamps, and the pink garter you’ve selected all are placed inside of a black bag. Brendon swipes his card and gives a thank you before picking it up and guiding you out the door. You still can barely breathe. On the ride home, Brendon turns the radio on soft volume, just enough to fill up the silence that had lingered there before. He has on hand on the steering wheel, the other on your thigh, but it stays put. He doesn’t move it.

When you pull up to the driveway he gets out of the car, and you can pretty much tell that bedtime isn’t coming anytime soon. Especially after remembering the contents of the bag he’s holding. However, he doesn’t say anything about it. He simply hands it to one of his maids and whispers something incomprehensible to them before they head off up the stairs. You swallow down your nervousness and hold his hand as he leads you to the sofa. “Want to watch a movie?” he wonders.

“I’m kinda getting sleepy,” you admit.

“That’s alright,” he reassures. He waves down another one of his maids. “Can you please fetch one of my t-shirts from my wardrobe? Something a bit bigger for her to wear. As well as an evening outfit for me.”

“Yes sir,” they nod before rushing off.

“How many assistants do you have?” you pout. “A chef? A maid? A helper? A pool cleaner? The list goes on and on.”

“Too many,” he chuckles. “You’re right. But it is nice to give people a job if they need it.”

“I never really thought of it that way,” you shrug.

“I overpay them and take care of them, but they treat me wonderfully and they do their job exceptionally well,” he explains. “So I don’t have a problem with it. Besides, it’s going towards their families and wellbeing, and I have enough money to keep up with it.”

“Admirable,” you kiss him on the cheek.

The maid comes back with a baggy shirt, one with a beer brand on it, as well as sweatpants for him. He thanks them before slowly undressing you, then slipping you in his shirt, smiling. “You wear it well,” he beams. He then slides off his own clothes and puts on the sweatpants, staying shirtless. “Come here.” He curls you up on his lap by the touch and you snuggle into his arms, then he picks up the remote and opens up Netflix. He chooses some action film and you close your eyes, resting your head on his chest, sighing. The loud noises, flashing lights, huge explosions and occasional screaming didn’t bother you. You fell sound asleep in just a couple scenes in.

You stir awake when you feel two arms lifting you up from where you are, and you feel slight movement, beginning to mumble something. “Brendon?” you flutter your eyelids open, groggy and tired. “What’s happening? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me sweetheart,” he chuckles. “You kind of fell asleep. You’re really cute when you’re tired.”

“Whatever,” you grumble into his chest. “Just take me to your bed already.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, princess,” he replies.

He lays you down on the bed, wrapping you up in the sheets, kissing your forehead. Then he lays beside you, pulling you on top of him, his arms around your waist. “Goodnight,” you murmur.

“You too, love,” he whispers. “Get some sleep.”

“D-didn’t you want to d-do stuff though?” you stammer before letting out a long yawn.

“It’s okay,” he shakes his head. “You go to bed.”

“You got all that stuff and everything I don’t want to ruin it,” you whine sleepily. “I can if you want to-”

“No,” he insists. “Please, go to sleep baby. It’s not like we’re never going to do this again. There will be other times. No pressure.”

“Are you sure?” you feel your eyelids getting heavy.

“Absolutely,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. Just go to sleep. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“Alright,” you comply. “I love you.”

You’re almost fully asleep again before you hear his response, but it doesn’t matter. You know. You know he loves you. He doesn’t have to say it. He shows it. And you could never thank him enough.

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dweebobeebo-blog · 7 years ago

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I'm so very sorry, my phone quit working and I lost all my writings. Some that I was currently working on, I can't get back. Hopefully I can start new ones and post 🙁

#panic! at the disco #my chemical romance #fall out boy #falling in reverse #brendon urie #bring me the horizon #twenty øne piløts #dallon weekes #ronnie radke #tyler joseph #josh dun #5sos #black veil brides

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dweebobeebo-blog · 7 years ago

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I Love Her Anyway: Chapter 8

A/N: sorry for the weekend break, my life’s been a little busy lately and school is staring (wtf?!?!) but anyways, thanks for bearing with me and being patient! you’re the best

the neverending tag list: @uriellybrendon @rupphirerydenphan @loverontheleft @vessyvk @yagirlcammmm @brendonuriehimself @myaestheticsareshit @moveondontholdon @pageoftheclouds @lugialagia @galaxy-moon @timisnotmontydlc @jigglypuff1999 @geekybeauty8793 @echoloki @greatheromuffinpalace @svintsandghosts @kitykatnumber @dragonqueendany @mtb04308 @un-amoosed-padalecki @cupcakesweetness

After taking a short nap with Brendon in his bed, you both eventually get up and get redressed. He’s so sweet, careful to package all of your new clothes in a bag, giving you a bottle of water for the road, then escorting you into his car. You kiss him again and again before you leave the driveway, never wanting to leave. All of this is so beautiful, so amazing, nothing like you had ever experienced. Although your body feels a little sore and you are extremely tired, you can’t help but admit this is the best night you’ve ever had. Especially with Brendon by your side. When you brush your teeth, slip on pajamas, and get into your bed, you hear an unfamiliar text tone. You pick up your cellphone, but realize it isn’t that, before going to search for your work phone. There’s a message from him, and it makes your heart skip a beat as you go to open it up. “Thank you for one of the best nights of my life. Sweet dreams, y/n.” You can’t respond fast enough.

When you get dressed for work the next morning, you’re sure to wear one of the lingerie he’s bought you. You smile at the fact that you still smell like his soap. You slip on a baby blue blouse and a white skater skirt as well as some heels and then grab a muffin and head out the door once you hear the obnoxious honking, rushing down the driveway and slipping into the shotgun seat of your father’s car. “Enjoy the movie last night?” he wonders.

“U-uh yeah,” you nod a bit too eagerly. “It was great. Had a fun time shopping too.”

“Who all came?” he asks.

“Um, you know, the usual,” you shrug, rambling off a list of your friends.

“Hey, I don’t mind you staying out that late since it is summer and you are just a kid, but do remember to get up for work when you have it,” he reminds. “You were cutting it close this morning.”

“I know,” you insist. “I’m sorry about that.” You take a bite of your muffin and stare out the window, trying to figure out if last night was all a dream or actually real.

“I’m glad you had fun though,” he smiles. “Even though you’re working, it’s important to enjoy your summer too.”

He drops you off at the coffeeshop this morning without you mentioning it, and you walk in and grab the orders before making your way to the office. When you knock, the door opens immediately, and Brendon grabs you by the hips and kisses you, almost making you spill the coffee. “Sir!” you whine, trying to keep your balance as he attacks your neck with his mouth and closes the door.

“Sorry,” he blushes, pulling away. “I just, I couldn’t stop thinking about you since last night.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you roll your eyes, handing him his cup.

“Like you weren’t,” he scoffs playfully.

“Give me my errands and let’s get to work already,” you sigh. “I don’t have time to mess around.”

“Alright,” he raises his eyebrows, surprised. “Whatever you say, Miss Jackson.”

You spend the morning delivering newsletters to each of the departments, updating the information on the human resources associates, creating a spreadsheet of the intern salaries, and sorting documents into folders on a flash drive. You’re coming back into the office after having run a couple files down to the receptionist when you check the clock. Lunchbreak. You shudder at the thought of what he might have planned for you today. Your body tingles at the possibilities. You saunter over to his desk and lean on the edge, head propped up on your hands, ass sticking out. “About finishing up?” you inquire.

“No, just started,” he mumbles. “Why?”

“It’s lunch,” you inform.

“Take off without me,” he decides.

“What?” you frown. “No way. Come on, Brendon, you gotta eat too.”

“It’s fine, I had a big breakfast,” he lies.

“Come on,” you whine. “Please, let’s order pizza or something, it doesn’t have to be healthy.”

“There’s no way I’m going to order pizza to my office,” he narrows his eyes. “You can get me a salad and flatbread if you’re so keen on making sure I don’t skip a meal.”

“Aren’t you going to eat with me?” you complain, moving to walk around his desk and go up behind him, rubbing his shoulders. “You seem tense, I think you need time to relax.”

“I just got a huge order in today, baby. I need to concentrate,” he argues, scooting his chair closer to his commputer and letting your hands slide off of his shoulders.

“You’re being mean,” you pout. “I want to eat with you.”

“Jesus Christ, did I not give you enough attention last night?” he snaps, swiveling his chair backwards to face you. “Daddy needs to finish up his work, princess.”

“What?” your face goes pale, eyes wide, swallowing down your dizziness. You forget about making him angry and instead focus on the last part of what he’s told you. “W-what did you just say?”

“Daddy needs to work,” he repeats slowly, grabbing onto your wrists, tugging you towards him. You fall onto his lap and he tugs you further onto him, making you gasp.

“Brendon-” you begin but he shakes his head.

“No, it’s daddy to you,” he corrects. “And if you’re going to act like such a needy slut, then I’m going to have to treat you like one. Understand?”

“Y-yes daddy,” you whimper. Just calling him that name makes you so wet.

“Straddle my hips, you filthy whore,” he growls in your ear. You do as told, scooching your legs apart to make room for his bulge to rest against your pussy. “Now grind.”

“Daddy,” you whine, rocking your hips back and forth, arms around his neck, his hands on your hips. “P-please daddy…”

“Please what, babygirl?” he asks.

“Please touch me,” you beg. “I need it, I need it so bad. I want your fingers in my pussy.”

“All you have to do is ask,” he smirks, running his hand down your side and in between your legs, brushing against the lace and moaning. “Oh you’re such a dirty little slut, wearing this for me. In the office too, just like I’ve instructed. Just imagine if they found out, my sweet secretary actually such a filthy fucking whore, yearning to have me finger her. Hmm?”

“Oh god daddy, please,” you plead, pushing down on his fingers. “Please, please, please.”

“I could listen to you beg all day, princess,” he sighs. “God, you sound so pretty like that.” He moves the fabric to the side and slips his fingers into your wet cunt, making you moan into his neck.

“Fuck,” you gasp as he moves them in and out, making you only grind down on him faster.

“I don’t have time for this,” he grumbles, rubbing on your clit hard and making your head tilt back, moans spilling out from your mouth. “You have twenty seconds to cum or else you’re going to have to wait until the end of the day, sweetheart.”

“Shit daddy, please,” you whimper, his thumb rubbing circles harder and his fingers pumping in and out of you at twice the speed. He’s some sort of magician at what he does, how he touches you, how he makes you so weak. You feel like you’re falling apart, you’re so overstimulated.

“Fuck,” now he’s the one cursing as you squirt all over his hand and his lap, almost falling off the chair as your vision whitens with euphoria. He catches you, pulling you close to him, letting you collapse in his arms. His legs are damp and you feel your juices running down your thighs, and you turn shy, hiding yourself in his shoulder and gasping for air through labored breaths.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his collar. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, shit, I made such a mess-”

“It’s okay sweetheart,” he reassures, rubbing your back. “I wanted this, I wanted you, I’m should be apologizing, I didn’t mean to be so rough-”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s not your fault, I’m the one who was begging for it and distracting you and-”

“I was the one yelling at you and being rude. I shouldn’t have acted that way and I was so caught up with work that I just-” he stops his talking when there’s a knock at the door. You both freeze, going silent, staring at each other with huge eyes. This wasn’t the time for arguing. This was the time for panic.

What if someone had heard you? Oh god, what if someone walks in on both of you? This would be bad, this would be so very bad. What would you say? How the hell would you or Brendon ever come up with an excuse for this? Perhaps you were doomed. A sick feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, replacing what had once been euphoria, and you close your eyes tight before reopening. Maybe you had just heard it wrong, maybe it was for another door, maybe you were overthinking everything. This was bad. This was so fucking bad.

“Shit,” you whisper, looking down at the mess you’ve left on his lap and all over your thighs.

“Uh…” Brendon just stares at you, not really sure knowing what to do.

Another knock on the door. “Mr. Urie? This will only take a couple minutes-” a voice is heard from outside the door.

“Give me just a moment,” he calls out, reaching into his desk for the towel and letting you crawl off of him, wiping up your legs and pussy before scrubbing at his pants, but it’s no use. “Fuck.” He looks around urgently, eyes settling on his coffee cup.

“Brendon no-” you try to stop him but it’s too late, but he’s already begun to pour the coffee all over his pants, right where the big stains are. Not exactly how you’d go about the situation, but it works.

“One second!” he calls out to the door, then races over to grab it. You’re standing there, still unsure what to do, but when he settles his hand on the doorknob, you quickly head to the sofa and pull out your computer, pretending to be working and busy. “I am so sorry, I just spilled coffee all over my lap and was trying to clean it up and it took me a while to get to the door, my apologies.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the person at the door apologized. “That must be awful. Why don’t you run your secretary over to a shop to grab you some new slacks at a department store? It is lunch break after all. You shouldn’t really be scrubbing at your pants, it’s bad for the fabric. I can do it if you want.”

“No, no, that’s not necessary,” he shakes his head. “I’m sure I can just run home and change if it’s really that bothersome. Just embarrassing, that’s all I guess. Anyways, what might the matter be?”

You pretend to be engrossed in your pretend project, eyes on your screen, but you overhear them ramble on about blueprint errors and needing to reprint them with the proper dates. Something he’ll probably make you do during the evening. As he speaks to the guest at the door, your mind lingers on how daunting his actions were, spilling coffee all over himself just to save you. Did he really care about you that much? Well then again, what kind of excuse was he supposed to say? Even if he did tell the truth, you wouldn’t exactly be the one whose behavior would be frowned upon. In fact, it was his lap the evidence happened to land on anyways. Your face turns red at the idea of how you had squirted all over his legs. Never had you ever done that in your life before, even while touching yourself alone.

“Thanks for your time, Mr. Urie. I promise I’ll keep the coffee incident between us,” the visitor gives a small smile. “Enjoy your lunchbreak.”

“You too,” he gives a fake grin. Brendon closes the door, then sighs, walking back whilst unbuckling his pants.

“Excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow. “You should probably keep your pants on in the office in case someone else comes knocking on the door.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, unzipping and pulling it down his legs, then crumpling it up into a pile on the end of the couch. “I should have some sweatpants in my desk somewhere if I remember correctly.” He fumbles to put the towel back into its appropriate drawer after wiping down his chair and then reaches into another to find a drawstring bag with some sweatpants in it. He quickly slides them on, then sits down, sighing from exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” you close your laptop and walk towards him, sitting on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “That was kinda scary, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shhh babygirl,” he puts a finger to your lips. “There’s no need for apologies. It’s okay.”

“Alright,” you kiss his finger, making him chuckle, before kissing you on the lips.

“Now come on, maybe you’re right. Let’s go get something to eat,” he complies. “Even pizza if that’s what your heart desires.”

“We can get pizza?” your eyes light up.

“Whatever you want,” he smiles. “So if that means pizza, then yes, go for it.”

“Thank you, daddy,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I like the sound of that,” he chuckles. “Now come on, let’s go place an order.”

“Can we get stuffed crust?” you wonder. “Pretty please?”

“Of course, darling,” he nods.

Both of you sit on the couch and drink soda, munching on stuffed crust pizza even though Brendon had insisted he didn’t want any. He later gave in after seeing and smelling just how good it was, shoving his salad aside and digging into the box for a slice of his own. It proved to be quite adorable. “You know,” you begin. “It’s kind of silly to see you wearing sweatpants with a dress shirt and tie.”

“It’s business casual,” he shrugs. “Business on the top, casual on the bottom.”

“Right,” you slowly draw out the word, staring at him as if he was a lunatic before being unable to keep up the act and bursting out into your own fit of giggles. “God, that’s so fucking ridiculous.”

“I can just take off my shirt if you think it doesn’t match well,” he offers.

“I wouldn’t mind you shirtless in the office at all,” you smirk.

“I’m wearing an undershirt, dumbass,” he narrows his eyes, chuckling. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Aw man,” you pretend to pout, making him laugh.

“God, I love you,” he rolls his eyes, going in for a kiss. “So much.”

“So much,” you repeat, kissing him back. “So fucking much.”

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dweebobeebo-blog · 7 years ago

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I Love Her Anyway: Chapter 7

A/N: happy friday my beautiful readers! the long awaited chapter is finally here and the neverending tag list just keeps growing… have at it!

tag list: @cupcakesweetness @un-amoosed-padalecki @mtb04308 @dragonqueendany @kitykatnumber @svintsandghosts @greatheromuffinpalace @echoloki @geekybeauty8793 @jigglypuff1999 @timisnotmontydlc @galaxy-moon @lugialagia @pageoftheclouds @moveondontholdon @myaestheticsareshit @brendonuriehimself

Walking into his mansion felt like an absolute dream. It was like entering Hogwarts or Disney, a gorgeous castle-like building with a stunning estate full of refined foliage and stone statues. As you enter, two puppies race up to you and eagerly hop up on your legs and begin to lick at your hands. You laugh and squint your eyes to make out a small Jack Russel and a Boston terrier. Brendon introduces you to them as Bogart and Pennylane before he ushers you farther into the house, walking you past the brilliant paintings, tapestries, and decorations. Sure enough, there’s chandeliers that dangle from the ceiling, marble floor and pillars, golden trimming, as well as a gigantic aquarium filled with a variety of multicolored fish. Brendon interlocks his fingers with you as he takes your hand, guiding you farther into his home, your mind spinning at your surroundings. He lays you down onto a Victorian fainting couch and sets down the box and bags before embracing you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“So what do you think?” he smiles.

“I’m absolutely amazed,” you admit. “This is insane.”

“I thought you might like it,” he chuckles. “Now come on, I want to see your reaction to these gifts.”

You can’t help but blush as he places the box into your hands and you unwrap the ball gown from the packaging, your eyes sparkling. “It’s gorgeous!” you gush, standing up and lifting it towards your frame, doing a small spin and giggling. “Oh my god, I love it! And it’s just my size!”

“Come on, you have more goodies too,” he reminds.

You set down the dress carefully and then reach for the bags, pulling out the lingerie one at a time. The look on your face makes him smirk, and you can’t help but become breathless at the thought of being sprawled out on his mattress wearing nothing but these small pieces of lace. “Thank you,” you whisper as you pull out the last one. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Thank you, darling,” he beams. “I expect you to start wearing them to work from now on when you get a chance.”

“Of course,” you nod happily. “I would love to.”

“Now come on,” he takes you by the hand and guides you towards the kitchen. “Let’s have a drink.”

Both of you curl up on a loveseat on the porch outside admiring the view of a lake, a tennis court, a golf course, and a fire pit. He has plenty of hammocks and armchairs, along with a bar counter and stools, as well as a small gathering space adorned with fairy lights and lanterns. “Are you the only one who lives here?” you dare to ask, leaning your head on his chest as he takes a swig of beer. He’s poured you a glass of virgin sangria, but you’ve only taken a couple sips.

“I have several butlers and maids, as well as a handful of chefs,” he replies. “Other than visitors though, it is just me.”

“Wow,” you murmur to yourself. You can’t imagine only one person living on such a huge property. You’re starting to wonder if maybe he’s not even a millionaire, but a billionaire. You make a mental note to look up his net worth when you get home. This all feels surreal.

“But I worked hard to get here, don’t get me wrong,” he says. “My father helped me, but I put in plenty of hard work and effort myself. School was hard trying to work and educate myself at the same time, but it paid off beyond what I could ever imagine.”

“I’m proud of you,” you mumble, unable to hide your smile. “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be here with you.”

Both of you lay down and cuddle, just holding each other and staying there, taking sips of your drinks and watching the sunset together. It’s something you had only ever dreamed of, and you would’ve never thought it to go down like this. Perhaps maybe on a grassy hill after a picnic with one of the boys in your neighborhood or while eating cotton candy at a carnival with a guy from your high school or in the back of a truck blaring music with a best friend turned lover. Not at all like this. Not in the backyard of a mansion with your newest boss, laying down on a satin loveseat drinking fancy concoctions and taking in the view. You wished you could freeze this moment and keep it forever, revisit it when you needed it, years from now when he would have forgotten about you and you felt lonely.

“I’m kind of getting hungry,” he sighs when the sky begins to get dark. “Ready to make dinner?”

“I’d love to,” you grin. “What were you thinking?”

“Filet mignon,” he offers. “Medium rare.”

“I’m still stuffed from the luncheon,” you joke. “But that sounds absolutely delicious, I think I won’t be able to resist.”

“Perfect,” he decides, scooping you up from the loveseat and carrying you inside.

After a lengthy argument with the chef trying to insist that he wants to cook the meal tonight, he picks out two slices of meat and seasons them before placing them on the pan with a drizzle of olive oil. He then picks out veggies and a knife and begins to chop them, your arms around his waist and your lips peppering kisses on his back. He pours the mix of broccoli, onions, carrots, and peas into another pan and sets it on low, sprinkling it with salt and pepper. He turns around and kisses you on the forehead before picking you up and setting you on the counter, your legs dangling off the side and your head nodding back and forth as he goes to place a record on the vinyl player. It’s Frank Sinatra, and you hum at the beginning of the song, one of your grandfather’s favorites.

You watch intently as Brendon flips the meat over, pan sizzling slightly before he goes to stir the vegetables. You’ve seen plenty of people cook before, but the way he does it is like someone create art. He’s so graceful and meticulous, dancing around the kitchen and adding ingredients as if splattering a new color on the canvas with his brush, concentration and precision at a high priority. It has you absolutely mesmerized. He softly sings along to the Sinatra vinyl as he begins to plate your food, and you feel like you could melt upon his granite countertop and drip all the way down to his marble floor. His voice is smooth and soft and sultry and savory. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, begging to hear more. Everything about this man absolutely entranced you.

His dining room is lavish, and it almost seems silly to sit at such a large table with so many chairs when it’s only you two, but you do anyways. It reminds you of the scene in The Little Mermaid where Ariel and Prince Eric ate at the fancy table all alone, her slamming the plate cover over Sebastian once she spots him in the salad. You giggle at the thought. “What?” Brendon raises an eyebrow, smiling.

“Nothing,” you chuckle to yourself. “This all just feels straight out of a fairy tale.”

“As it should,” he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You’re my princess, remember?”

He slowly cuts into your choice of meat, revealing the rosy pink inside. Just the smell makes your stomach grumble, and as soon as he lifts the bite up to your lips with the prongs of his fork, it’s gone. It tastes delicious, tender and succulent and flavorful. You’re dying to get another taste. You wouldn’t have expected him to be such a refined chef, but then again, there’s a lot of unexpected things you’ve found out about him. His singing voice, for one. You were still dreaming about it as you munched on your veggies.

“So, what’s after this?” you inquire as you take another sip of your sangria.

“It’s honestly up to you,” he shrugs. “We can watch a movie in the theatre, spend some time in the library, play a game of ping pong or tennis, go to the jacuzzi, take a ride on the helicopter, maybe play some music and dance in the ballroom, it’s whatever you want baby.”

“That’s- a lot,” you swallow down the information, overwhelmed. “Damn.”

“Don’t worry about getting it all in,” he reassures. “I do plan on taking you back here again.”

“Can we dance in the ballroom?” you ask shyly, blush on your cheeks. “And can I wear my new dress? The one you just bought for me?”

“Sure sweetheart,” he smiles at the request. “Would you like me to dress up, too?”

“You’re already wearing a suit and tie,” you argue.

“Perhaps a tuxedo for my lovely lady though?” he wonders. “We can play dress up, just have fun. Even if it is just for an hour or two.”

“Alright,” you can’t help but giggle more at what he says. You feel like a small child. You love the feeling. You absolutely adore it. “Sounds like fun.”

He makes you feel so young, so invincible, so powerful and exhilarated. Being with him was the best feeling in the entire world. Now, being here, dancing in the ballroom in your heels and brand-new dress, staring into his eyes, his hands on your hips and yours on his shoulders, you were sure that this had to be the best night of your entire life. Never had you ever been in love with someone like this, felt comfortable and safe yet thrilling and daring at the same time. “You are so gorgeous,” he whispers, caressing your face after twirling you in his arms.

“You’re beyond handsome,” you mumble, eyes still sparkling.

“I think-” he stops himself, closing his eyes, looking down.

“What?” you soften your features, concerned.

“I think I might love you,” he admits, looking up at you, eyes radiating genuine emotion.

“Brendon,” you breathe his name, shocked. “I- I don’t- I can’t-”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he quickly covers up. “I just um, I wanted you to know. How I felt about you.”

“I think I might love you too,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you, I know it’s only been a couple days but-”

“No,” he shakes his head, smiling softly. “I get it. I understand.”

“Really?” you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah,” he nods. “You’re my whole world, y/n.”

You kiss him as you sway back and forth in his arms, your feet grounded to the beat, your tongues moving with the melody, your fingers tangled in each other’s hair. You loved him so much and yet you only knew him for such little time. It killed you on the inside knowing that this moment wouldn’t last forever, that someday you’ll be far away from each other, that you’ll find a new job and a new person to love and a new life. Even though you were young, you weren’t stupid. You knew you wouldn’t last forever, you knew this was simply just a spur of the moment thing, two lovers caught it a spark soon to fade away. You had heard of it a thousand times before and you were intelligent enough to spot it out yourself. That was far in the future though. All that mattered was now, because he was here now, and you loved him right now. As the next song began to start, you pulled away from each other, sharing smiles and holding hands.

“I think I’m ready for a little late-night swim,” you tell him.

“We can make that happen,” he nods. “Let’s go.”

Splashing each other with water in the jacuzzi like little kids, him hilariously letting you win at ping pong even though you were literally miserable and couldn’t hit the ball to save your life, and allowing you to peruse his collection of books in the library only made your decision on calling this the best night of your life even more secure. You had never been this overwhelmed before, but you thoroughly enjoyed it. You walked around his mansion with him, wrapped in a towel embroidered with his name, hair dripping wet, holding his hand. He led you up the flight of stairs to a room and swung the doors open, your face turning pink as you realized where he had taken you.

“Leading me to your bedroom, Mr. Urie? Tsk, tsk,” you smirk. “Naughty boy.”

“Says the one who was sucking me off at my desk yesterday at work,” he backfires. You giggle, embarrassed at his comment.

“What are we doing in here?” you tilt your head to the side, curious.

“Taking a shower,” he replies, carefully unwrapping you from your towel. “Come on baby, we got to get all of that salt water out of your hair and skin before you dry up.”

“Alright,” you comply, letting him untie the back of your bathing suit. You’re a bit nervous though. You’ve never been completely naked in front of him. Your insecurities start to cloud your mind, making you chew on your lower lip, self-conscious and hesitant. However, as he slides the damp fabric off of your body, all of that changes when you turn around to face him, swimsuit pooling at your feet before you step out of it and into his arms.

“Y-you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he stumbles over his words, staring at you with complete awe. “Holy fuck, y/n.”

“Thanks,” you feel yourself blushing even harder.

“Jesus,” he scans your body from head to toe, hands on your hips, still in complete awe. He gives you a kiss before shedding his own bathing suit and then scooping you up and carrying you to the bathroom, turning on the water and letting it heat up.

You had never taken a shower with anyone else in your entire life before. You had watched it in movies and tv shows, steamy scenes of people making out or having sex, but this is nothing like that. This is purely romantic. He lathers soap onto your body and carefully washes your hair with shampoo, massaging your back and pressing kisses to your shoulders. He hums sweet songs in the shower, mostly Frank Sinatra, which you eventually hum along to yourself if you recognize the tune. When you get out of the shower, he dries you off carefully with a towel, working from your hair down to your neck, then your breasts and waist, then your legs and feet. He treats you like a goddess. You don’t know how you were ever so lucky to deserve him. After quickly drying himself off in about a fourth of the time he’s spent on you, he picks up a bottle of lotion and works it through his hands and fingers before touching your skin. He smooths out the cream onto your arms and legs, your face, and your body. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh at the sensation. It’s soothing and comforting and absolutely divine.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he closes the bottle and sets it back on the counter.

“I just want you to feel like the beautiful girl you are,” he insists. “I want to treat you right. I want to make you feel loved. I want to show you that I’m not just saying these words because I want to, I’m loving you because I need to. Alright, y/n?”

“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile, giving him a kiss. “But still. Thank you.”

“You’ve been such a good little girl for me all day, especially at the meeting,” he hums, closing the space between you and tugging your naked body towards his. “I can’t help but think that after a long, exhausting, grueling day of work you’d like to lay down with me and continue what we started back in the taxi this morning, hmm?”

“Sir,” you breathe, knees weak.

“Is that what you’d like, babygirl?” he mumbles into your neck, starting to suck at your skin, grazing it with his teeth, sliding his tongue down and breathing warm breaths, making you start to get wet for him.

“Mmm please,” you beg, wrapping your arms around him, raking your fingernails down his back as he sucks on your shoulder.

“It’s so hard not to leave marks,” he confesses, pulling away and letting out ragged breaths, staring at you. “Fuck baby, come here.” He kisses you harshly, pushing his tongue into your mouth and pressing it up against yours, your breasts against his chest.

“Please,” you whimper, and he picks you up, allowing you to hook your legs around his waist.

He carries you to the bed, your face buried in the crook of his neck, and slowly lays you down. You let out a sigh as you feel your back press up against the soft mink faux fur on his mattress and your head resting upon the memory foam pillows. Everything here is so luxurious, you yourself feel like a treasure just being surrounded by such rich possessions. He lays down on top of you, kissing you softly, sure not to crush you. It makes you moan, the feeling of his chest up against yours, his lips traveling down your neck to your breasts, his hands kneading both of them gently, causing you to whine even more. “God, those sounds you’re making sound so angelic,” he croons. He begins to flick your nipple back and forth with his tongue, then nips at it, making you roughly grip his shoulders, letting another moan fall from your mouth.

“Brendon, fuck please more,” you implore as he traces his tongue around your other nipple before biting it softly. “Shit, shit, shit oh my god fuck-”

“Such naughty words coming from such an innocent, pure, sweet little girl,” he teases, squeezing your tits one last time. He then kisses his way down your stomach, spreading your legs apart with his hands to make room for him to slide down in between them, your fingers finding their way to tangle themselves in his hair. He lets out a warm breath onto your clit, making you squirm, and he then presses his lips to it, giving a soft kiss. “So beautiful.” His voice is so soft and gentle. He removes one of his hands from your thighs and uses two of his fingers to run through your folds, collecting your wetness, and he hums at the sensation. You whimper, bucking your hips up to meet his fingers, and he complies, pushing them in slowly.

“Oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you curse at the feeling, absolutely adoring it but yet terrified of it all at the same time. This was so new, so intimate, so different. Being in a taxi cab trying to sneak around and be dirty for a few seconds was one thing, but now, here, laying in his bed with him in between you, his fingers inside of you, it was something completely off the charts from what you had previously accomplished. “More, more, more Brendon, fuck please more.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” he smirks, pushing in and out of you, your fingers tugging at his hair, back arched, erotic sounds spilling from your mouth. You can’t get enough. “God you have such a tight, wet, pretty little cunt for me, don’t you? Look at this pussy, fuck, I could just finger you all day if I could. Especially with those sounds you’re making for me, damn baby…”

He slides his fingers in and out of you, even adding a third at one point, only increasing the volume of your noises as he decides to roll his thumb in circles over your clit, driving you absolutely wild. Before you know it, you’re screaming his name, begging for him to go faster and faster, your walls clenching around his fingers, knuckles turned white at how hard you were tugging at his hair, and a flash of hot white, his fingers slowly sliding out of you, your head tilted back in attempts to catch labored breaths. You focus on your heavy breathing, vision still hazy coming down from your high as you watch Brendon lick his fingers carefully, sucking on each one. You feel like you might pass out. You had never had such an intense orgasm before.

“Jesus Christ,” you sigh, collapsing into the mattress.

“We’re not done yet, kitten,” he crawls back on top of you and kisses you, pressing his hips to yours, and you feel his hard on.

“Fuck Brendon,” you whine, bucking your hips up against his. You begin to grind against him, his cock sliding against your wet folds, his head teasing you, barely sliding in. It makes you whimper. “I want you inside me, please.”

“We need to be careful,” he whispers. “Listen to me baby, if I say I’m going to cum, I’m going to need you to promise you will lay your legs flat on this mattress and let me pull out, understand?”

“Yes sir,” you nod your head. “I promise.”

“No matter how good it feels, I can’t get you pregnant, alright?” he looks into your eyes, making sure you know how serious he’s being. “I need to make sure we’re both safe.”

“C-can’t you get a condom?” you murmur, looking up at him.

“If you would like me to, I can,” he offers. “But I want you to feel it for your first time baby. I want you to feel all of me. Okay?”

“Okay,” you decide. The idea of fucking with a condom hadn’t always sounded the best idea to you, you never really cared for latex, and assumed it was a safety precaution more than anything, something you just had to do whether you liked it or not. But the idea of having him inside you raw, the possibility and danger of something going wrong, the anticipation of reaching the climax and acting quick, it only made the adrenaline rush through your veins more. “I promise sir, I want this. I want it please. I want it now.”

“As you say, sweetheart,” he gives a soft smile. He reaches his hand down towards his dick, stroking himself before lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing into you.

“Fuck,” you whimper, tears surfacing in your eyes as he begins to move into you inch by inch. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“You’re doing so good, babygirl,” he insists. “Just a little more, I promise I’ll go slow.” He pushes even more into you, the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach growing even more, the pain spiking upwards.

“Mmpft, please, please, please,” you whine, closing your eyes tight, clinging onto him. He stops, resting at a comfortable position, letting you adjust to his size.

“Just tell me when you’re ready,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “I can wait.”

“Go,” you choke out the word. “Please, just go.”

“I want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he insists, concerned look spread across his face. “Take your time baby. If it’s too much, I can pull out-”

“I said fucking go,” you argue, pushing your hips up to meet his and making him let out a low moan, surprised by your actions.

“Shit baby,” he whines, slowly moving in and out of you. Your pain is slowly replaced with pleasure as he works his way back and forth, his hands behind your head, your hands on his shoulders.

“You feel so fucking good,” you mumble, pressing your hips up to meet his thrusts. He begins to go quicker, making you whine, fingernails digging into his skin. “Brendon, shit, fuck- oh god.”

“Come on sweetheart,” he huffs through his heavy breaths. “I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum for me.”

“More, more,” you beg, the rolls of your hips beginning to get sloppy and uncoordinated as you feel your climax coming on. “Fuck, don’t stop sir, please don’t stop.”

“I don’t plan on it,” he chuckles darkly, thrusting into you over and over and over again.

“Shit I feel it- I feel it- oh my god, oh my god,” you moan as you feel your second wave of orgasm wash over you, your entire body shaking and trembling.

“Princess you feel so fucking good when you cum around my cock like that,” he hums, working in and out of you still, only overstimulating you even more. “Just a little while longer.” He moves back and forth, your body now exhausted and tired, barely able to keep up at his pace.

“Want to- make you- feel- good,” you manage to get out between your gasps for air, still in a haze of pleasure.

“Jesus,” he thrusts one last time before pulling out and cumming across your stomach, the warm sticky substance dripping down your breasts and torso. “Oh god baby, fuck…”

“Mmm,” you tilt your head back and revel in the feeling of his semen coating your body. It felt so good to know you made him feel just amazing as he had made you feel.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he moans, taking a moment to recover and catch his breath before leaning down to kiss your lips. “So beautiful for me.” He kisses you again and then gets up, fumbling with his drawer before getting out a towel. Once again, as always, prepared for the situation. He also ends up getting a warm wash cloth to clean you off even better, then dries you with a towel, wiping himself off as well as your pussy before dropping it to the floor and wrapping both of you up with blankets, cuddling you gently, both of your bodies tangled together.

“Thank you so much,” you whisper into his ear, peppering kisses all over his face. “That meant so much to me, that felt so good, thank you. Thank you.” You take a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget how that felt for the rest of my entire life.”

“I am so madly in love with you, Miss Jackson,” he replies, kissing you passionately. “I don’t think I’ll ever want to let you go.”

“Fine by me,” you laugh against his lips, and he does as well, both of you smiling and joyful. When you pull away, he looks at you, grinning, then going to kiss you again. And again. And again. And again. You never want this stop. If you could, you would make this night last forever. In fact, kissing him here in his bed, pleasure still buzzing in your mind, the sweet smell of sex in the sheets, you feel like you just might be able to. In fact, you feel like you could do anything in the world.

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