#brendon fanfic

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Brendon Urie gives Ryan Ross a milk enema. 

Author: Druscilla_Way

Note from submitter: this is not an endorsment of the content or the author. Only submitting this for curiosity as this is a very infamous fic. 

[loverontheleft]

Yes (revised)

Original request: ok, this request is very specific because I fantasize about it a lot. you and b are roommates (nonfamous AU) and ur in the shower, rubbing one out, having a grand ol’ time and b gets home and BARRELS into the bathroom cuz he has to pEE like nOW and obvs catches on to what ur up to and offers a hand. or a mouth. or a dick. whatevs.

AU!Brendon x reader.

Word count: 2.7k➡️6.7k

Warnings: language, dirty talk, oral, brief thigh-riding because it’s me, shower sex, talk of spanking, general feelings and shit.

-||-

The shower is the perfect temperature; the ceramic tiles are no longer cold to the touch and you’re leaning against the wall with your handheld shower-head pulsing on a low pressure between your legs. “Oh fuck,” you sigh, rolling your hips against the stream. You’re lost in the sensation, letting yourself imagine Brendon’s soft, eager tongue working at your clit, when the floor outside your bathroom door creaks. Before you can do anything, the door slams open; Brendon’s flying into your bathroom, and you’re shrieking.

“Shit! What the fuck?!”

Brendon babbles his apologies. “Got stuck in crazy traffic had to pee barely made it inside couldn’t make it to my bathroom,” he says in one breath, sighing in relief. You’re trying to catch your breath; the showerhead is still between your legs and when you move it, it hits at just the right angle. You whimper a little, before clapping a hand over your mouth in horror.

“Y/n?” You can practically hear Brendon’s head cock to the side. “Are you…okay?”

“Uh huh,” you manage in a strained voice, silently willing him to leave.

“Okay…you just sounded…Wait a minute—are you getting off in there?”

There’s a long pause, and you know that says more than enough. You choose honesty. “I was trying to,” you say through gritted teeth, and he makes a thoughtful sound. “Until my roommate came bursting in and threw off my—”

“Groove?” Brendon suggests, and you want to throttle him. “My bad. But if you want to start again, I could hel—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply, replacing the shower head in its clip and slamming the water off.

“Just saying, I apparently owe you, and I’ve helped bef—”

“Shut up,” you tell him, wrapping yourself in a towel and flinging the curtain back. “We said we wouldn’t talk about that again.” His gaze moves slowly over your body wrapped in the towel, and he looks up at you with a glint in his eyes. “Seriously, Brendon. That was a one-time thing; we were both incredibly drunk and horny, and we didn’t even—you just—we just—I just—” you falter, fumbling for the words. You’re equally aroused at the memory and frustrated that he’s being so casual about it. All these months later and you still aren’t sure what his feelings are, but his joking now makes you think it wasn’t that serious for him—which hurts. But the way he’s looking at you now—

“Yeah,” Brendon murmurs, cutting off your thoughts and still eying you. “I just fingered you while we just made out and you just gave me one of the best han—”

“Shut up!” You press your hands to your face. “You promised!”

Brendon holds up both hands innocently as he heads for the door. Stepping through, he looks back at you. “Well, the offer stands. You know where to find me if you decide you need me, darlin.”

You freeze at the name and turn to stare at him. He arches an eyebrow and bites his lip suggestively; you storm past him into your room across the hall.

“Oh, don’t be angry, Y/n. I just want to help!” He calls through your door, which you’ve just slammed shut. “I’m sorry, darlin!”

-||-

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—no!” You moan, rolling onto your stomach, fingers rubbing at your clit furiously. “Why—fuck!” You’re almost in tears, and you bury your face in your pillow, moaning in desperation. You need to come. “Well, the offer stands. You know where to find me if you decide you need me, darlin.” His voice echoes in your head, and you freeze, remembering that night. You can feel your heart rate spiking; you try to press the memories back into their small box.

-//- 6 months earlier -\\-

It’s been a hell of a week for both of you at your respective jobs, and Brendon has declared it Drunk Movie Night as a coping mechanism. He’s in the kitchen, and you’re sprawled on the couch waiting for him to come back with the first round of drinks. He’s promised something incredible and delicious, and you’re looking forward to it.

You can hear his footsteps; you look up. He’s got two large glasses in his hand, filled with clear liquid. “What is that?”

“No spoilers,” Brendon chides playfully, passing you a glass. He takes a long sip, and you do the same. You choke, immediately coughing. “It’s straight tequila,” he admits, making you laugh.

“You aren’t fucking around on this drunk movie night thing, I see.” Better prepared now, you take a small sip from your glass. Brendon nods and settles on the couch at the opposite end. Glass in one hand, remote in the other, you turn on the tv. When you open Hulu, prepared to scroll, Brendon flings a hand at you and then points at the screen.

“Black Swan,” he says. You blink at him. Brendon can see your confusion, and he clarifies. “Black Swan. The Natalie Portman ballet movie. Wait. You’ve never seen it?”

You shake your head, commenting that he doesn’t seem like the type for a ballet film, and Brendon shrugs. “It’s deeply fucked up. You’d like it.”

“…thanks, I think?”

He grins, lounging back against the couch cushions. You click Play.

-||-

You’re both done with your first tumblers of tequila and halfway through a refill. You’ve done the math; the two of you are drinking from sixteen-ounce glasses, so being halfway through a second glass means you’re at the equivalent of your sixth margarita, sans any mixer. But you don’t need math to know you’re both more than a little drunk when Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis lunge at each other in the bedroom. You toss a pillow in Brendon’s direction; it ricochets off his foot and falls to the ground.

“You pervert. This is why you wanted to watch Black Swan?”

“It’s a definite factor,” Brendon murmurs, his eyes on the screen. You glance back at the tv, and your breath catches. You’re not enjoying this the way Brendon is; instead, you are painfully aware of how long it’s been since someone pushed you onto a bed like that. You’ve been so caught up in work, but you’ve also been trying to process your feelings for Brendon. Living together has been mostly great, though having him in such close proximity has been hell on your emotions. You’d honestly expected living together to end your romantic interest, because you’d see all of his bad habits and annoying tendencies—but it hasn’t. If anything, it has only solidified your feelings.

“I should‘ve known you didn’t care about ballet,” you grumble, and Brendon laughs, draining his glass. As he swallows, his eyes leave the film, and he looks at you. You’re aware of the heat in his gaze; your breathing gets even shallower. He’s never seemed interested in you, but the look in his eyes now makes you wonder if you’ve been missing signs from him the way he’s been missing them from you.

You cave. “What?”

Brendon shrugs. “We’ve lived together for fifteen months, and you haven’t had anyone over.”

Your mind catches on the ‘fifteen months’ detail; you can’t help but think that he’s been keeping track. Why not just say ‘a year’ or ‘more than a year’? He clears his throat, and you realize he’s waiting for something. “Oh, sorry. Was that a question?”

“I guess my question is, don’t you miss it?” He gestures at the screen, where Natalie Portman is writhing on her bed. You desperately do, and you desperately want him. You can’t tell him that though; you need to deflect.

“I don’t miss Mila Kunis eating me out, no,” you manage, and Brendon snorts, shaking his head. “Why are we talking about this?”

“Because you need to get laid.”

“…Do I?”

You wonder if he can feel the tension and desire radiating from you. He nods, turning to face you more fully, and you think your heart is going to explode. His face is flushed, his hand is inching across the space between you, and his eyes are moving between yours and your lips. You can’t breathe.

“Yeah. You do.”

You can feel your pulse in your ears. Before you can respond, Brendon’s sliding across the couch and kissing you deeply. You gasp when his tongue finds yours, and he pulls back. “Shit, I’m so sorr—”

But you cut him off, grabbing him by the back of the head and crushing his mouth back over yours. He groans into your mouth, and you move together as he guides you into his lap so you can straddle him. The kiss is desperate and urgent; you’re tugging at his hair, he’s clutching you closer, and your hands are roaming over each other. He’s hard, and you’re keenly aware of how wet you are. You moan and scratch at his chest, begging for more. Instead of giving you more though, Brendon pulls back and looks at you closely.

“Hang on a sec. Are you drunk?” He asks in a rough voice, hands framing your face and thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he peers into your eyes. You know he knows how much you’ve had. He’s been pouring the tequila all night. You know there’s no point in lying. You nod, and you know the answer to the question you’re about to ask.

“Are you?”

“Yeah,” Brendon admits, breathing hard. “Should we—you can’t consent if you’re—I don’t want to push—”

“Let’s just…not have sex then,” you suggest, still trying to convince yourself that it’s the right choice, the responsible choice, even as the words leave your mouth. You really want to have sex with him.

“Let’s just not have sex,” Brendon agrees, staring at you longingly. “But…if it’s okay with you—can we keep—” and he gestures between the two of you.

“Please,” you moan, kissing him again. You can feel how hard he is, can feel his erection pressing into you. You bear down against him; you think you could probably come even if all you two do for the rest of the night is make out. If he’ll let you grind on him while he kisses you like this, you know you’ll come.

-||-

You’re not sure how long you’ve been kissing when you find your hand wandering down and your fingers grazing his cock. He curses under his breath, staring at you hungrily.

“Is this okay? Me touching you?” Your voice trembles, and Brendon nods, leaning back. You can’t take your eyes off of his erection, can’t stop tracing the length of him; meanwhile, Brendon is groaning your name and pressing his hips up to feel more of your hand. Hearing him say your name like that makes you brave enough to ask. “Is this from me, or from Natalie and Mila?” You’ve chosen a teasing tone, but you’re desperate to know.

His own hands have made it down to your hips, and you can feel his fingertips tease the waistband of your leggings. “Fuck, it’s all you. It’s all for you. Can I touch you?” When you nod, he works a hand down into your leggings, murmuring how he can feel how wet you are through your underwear. “Is this okay?” He’s caressing you through your panties, pressing and rubbing lightly in a way that makes you regret suggesting abstinence.

“So okay,” you murmur, curling your hand around him through his sweatpants. “Is this?”

“Yeah,” Brendon says quickly. His face is slightly flushed; his hair is a mess, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. You stroke him intently, wishing you could really feel the hot weight of his cock in your hand.

“Even though we’re both drunk?” You don’t want to stop. You just don’t want him doubting anything or stressing.

“I think as long as we don’t actually have like—sex. Hands are fine.” You can see in his eyes that he desperately wants you too, and you love him for showing restraint. You also know that you can’t tell him you love him. Not now, anyway. Not like this. He interrupts your thoughts. “Hands are good. Are fingers good too?”

It takes you a moment to process what he means. When it clicks, when you register his two fingers between your thighs and the way they’ve spread to tease the edge of your underwear, you make yourself a little dizzy and nauseous from how fast you nod.

And then he’s got two fingers inside you, and everything aligns for you in total clarity. It just feels right: Brendon holding you, touching you like this. His fingers are, and you tell him this breathlessly, better than good—they’re absolutely perfect. His thumb rolls against your clit; your head falls backward, and you wonder if you should be embarrassed by how quickly he’s going to make you come.

“Hands aren’t sex, right?” You ask the question to try to temper your lust. You know your personal answer, but you need to make sure you’re on the same page. Brendon shakes his head.

“Hands and fingers are foreplay,” he murmurs against your neck.

“Right. Yes. Good. When does foreplay become sex?”

“Mouths,” Brendon says reluctantly. You whine, even though you expected that. You’ve been thinking about his tongue replacing his fingers, and if his tone is any indication, he has too.

“Mouths,” you agree, shifting to get his fingers deeper. “Can I—” and you tug at his sweatpants. “I want to touch you more. If you’d like that.”

“I really fucking would,” Brendon tells you, lifting his hips a little and leaning against the cushions to make moving his sweatpants and underwear down easier. You’ve shifted back in his lap, his fingers are still in you but at a different angle now, and you can’t stop staring at his cock. You’ve had your hand all over him, but feeling him through his sweatpants and seeing all of him, fully hard and curving back so the tip presses to his stomach, is different. Seeing the way beads of pre-cum roll from the head down his shaft makes you wish mouths didn’t count as sex. But you know Brendon is right. Better to linger here with hands and fingers.

Still, you need to hear it again. “Mouths are definitely sex, right?” You rub your thumb lightly over the tip of his cock, spreading the slick pre-cum and hoping he’s imagining your tongue doing the same thing. You’re definitely imagining his tongue replacing his thumb on your clit.

“Mouths are sex,” Brendon repeats, his eyes closed and head tipped back. “Wish they weren’t. Wish I could—wish you could—god, just your hand though…”

“Would normally just spit in my hand,” you tell him, and he opens his eyes to look at you. “But I should probably use something else to keep me from eventually…” you fumble for the words, but you can see he knows what you mean. If you just used spit to slick up his cock, you’d eventually end up sucking him off. You need to use something that’ll keep you from blowing him. “Lotion,” you decide finally, making him laugh.

“Gonna make me feel like a teenager again,” he murmurs. “Except your hand on my cock, jerking me off while we make out will be much better than anything I experienced as a teenager. Plus,” he adds, “I’ve got my fingers in your wet pussy.”

“Which is hopefully an upgrade from your masturbation sessions,” you tease, squirting some of the hand lotion you keep in a basket on your end table into your palm. You press closer to him again, whimpering happily as his fingers slide in deeper.

“Definitely an upgrade,” he assures you, bringing you in for a long kiss. You wrap your hand around him, already stroking eagerly. “Goddamn,” Brendon murmurs into your mouth. “Darlin, your hand feels so fucking good.”

“Love that,” you moan, working your fist over him. “Love you calling me that.”

“Love calling you that too.” His fingers curl inside you, seeking your G-spot, and you squeal, rocking against his hand. “You like that?”

“So good; you can go harder though,” you pant, squeezing his cock as you stroke downward. “Is this how you like it? Show me how you like your cock played with.”

“You’re so damn hot,” he groans. “Yeah, do it just like that—squeeze when you get to the base, twist on the way up, fuck yes…yes, god, you’re incredible. Don’t stop.”

“Won’t stop,” you assure him, moving against his fingers. “If you don’t. Shit, I’m close. The way you press right—yeah, like that, yes! And your thumb, fuck that’s—that’s gonna make me—oh god, Brendon, yes!”

“Want you to come all over my hand,” Brendon says, curling his fingers more insistently and picking up his pace. “Want to feel you let go; come hard, darlin.”

“Want to come together,” you counter, kissing up his neck and nipping at his earlobe. “Can we come together?”

“Fuck yeah; if you keep tightening your grip like that and then rubbing the tip with your— shit, is that your pinky pressing on, teasing my balls? Oh fuck, that’s great…”

“Guitar Hero was good for something—stretching my pinky,” you laugh breathlessly. Brendon chokes on his laughter, staring at you in wonder. “What?” You’re a little self-conscious, but you also love his eyes on you.

“You’re incredible,” he says simply. “Just incredible. God, I’m gonna come if you keep—darlin, need you to whisper in my ear that you want me to come.” He’s tense under you, his fingers are working steadily, and you’re right on the edge.

“Bren, I want you to come for me.” Your lips are right under his ear. “Need you to come for me so I can come on your fingers. God, I’m holding back, holding on; want you to—”

Brendon cuts you off with a desperate groan, kissing you fiercely and rocking his hips up into your grasp. “Coming,” he manages, flexing his fingers in you. “Come for me, darlin.”

You let the tension leave your body, and your orgasm rocks through you. You can feel him spilling over your hand, and you know from how he’s gasping your name that it feels good for him. Meanwhile, you’re trembling on his fingers, clutching his head to keep his mouth against yours. It’s hot waves of pleasure coursing over your whole body, and you can barely breathe from how good it feels to come like this with two of his fingers still curling and thrusting while his thumb keeps moving on your clit.

“Fuck,” Brendon groans, and you nod, going limp against him. He holds you close and slips his hand from your leggings.

“Fuck,” you agree, resting your forehead on his shoulder. You’re both trying to catch your breath when you ask, “was that a mistake?” You freeze. You didn’t mean to ask that.

Brendon tenses under you. “Do you think it was a mistake?” His voice is hesitant; you can’t read his tone otherwise.

“I don’t know.”

You do know. You know exactly how you feel. You don’t think it was a mistake; you love him, and you’re so content curled into him now. But if Brendon isn’t sure, if Brendon’s regretting it, then you’re not about to volunteer any of that.

“Okay…should we talk—”

You know where this is going. You have no interest in hearing him tell you how much you mean to him as a friend and how he doesn’t want to lose you or ruin your living situation.

You cut him off. “We don’t have to talk about it.” You can hear the shift in your own voice now. You’re getting guarded. You’ve never liked being vulnerable, and this feels pretty vulnerable.

“But maybe we should—”

“I’m gonna head to bed. We don’t have to talk about it,” you manage, crawling out of his lap. Your main goal is to get to your room before you burst into tears.

-//- the present -\\-

You open your eyes, groaning. You couldn’t stifle the memories, and you can’t stifle the feelings. Worse, you’re remembering how good his fingers felt. “No,” you say out loud. “No. No.”

His shower across the apartment turns on, and you freeze. “You know where to find me if you decide you need me, darlin.”

“Fuck.” You roll onto your back again and close your eyes, wondering if he’s touching himself while thinking of you. You remember how he moaned your name and bucked into your fist as his tongue teased yours and his fingers worked inside you. You can still feel his fingers curling when he made you come, and you can remember how his cock throbbed in your grasp. Fuck.

You can picture him in the shower, stroking his cock and panting your name. Your fingers move faster, and you’re arching your back, gasping and moaning; you’re almost there when — “You know where to find me if you decide you need me, darlin.”

“Son of a bitch.” There’s a shift internally; you feel like you’ve come to some conclusion. His voice in your head is breaking your concentration, so clearly you need to just go to the source.

You throw yourself out of bed and slip into a t-shirt and shorts, well aware of the slickness on your inner thighs. You’re not sure what your plan is as you pad across your apartment and toward his bathroom door quietly; still, you’re sure this is what you need. The water is running, but you can hear him through the door.

“Fuck,” he grunts, followed by a low groan of your name. You’re desperate for more, and you know it’s a bad idea to twist the doorknob and slip silently into his bathroom. You do it anyway. The room is foggy, and you lean against the wall opposite the shower.

You’re telling yourself you aren’t going to do anything—you’re just going to listen for a bit, then sneak back to your room and get yourself off—when you hear his fist start to slide over himself. Is he using shampoo, conditioner, or lube? The question pops into your head and you blush, biting on your knuckles. And what is he imagining? That night, your hand on him, stroking him urgently while he rubbed your clit? Or—is he thinking about your mouth? You feel a rush of want, and it makes you dizzy. You’re grateful for your knuckles in your mouth because they muffle your whimper.

“Y/n?”

Or you thought they did. You freeze.

“Y/n,” he sighs, his hand audibly picking up speed. You relax. He was just imagining things. “Darlin, your mouth,” he groans, and that’s one question answered. Your stomach tightens. “Honey, you’re gonna make me come if you keep sucking my cock like this; that’s it, fuck, please—oh shit yeah, suck just like—I’m gonna—god, I’m gonna eat your pussy so good, just you fucking wait.”

You can feel yourself getting wetter, and you try to slip your hand inside your shorts without making too much noise. A voice in your head tells you not to be greedy, to just keep this moment in your mind while you go back to your room, but you can’t walk away. You want to get yourself off by listening to him touch himself to the idea of a blowjob from you or going down on you.

“Y/n, oh God, you’re fingering yourself while you blow me? So hot. That’s it, darlin; ride your fingers, think about taking my cock. Fuck, you look so damn sexy, three fingers deep in your cunt. Think about my cock filling you; I’ll give it to you.” You’re in a lust-driven fog; you feel like you’re obeying him as you slide a third finger in. You feel incredibly full, and you can’t stop remembering how your fingers had to stretch to fully wrap around his cock. He’s right; three fingers are more realistic for imagining him inside you. You whimper again, and it’s silent for a moment.

“Fingering yourself, Y/n?”

At first you’re confused why he’s repeating himself, but then you realize that his tone is different this time; it’s less sex-fueled and more knowing, more amused. Fuck.

He pulls the shower curtain back with a snap; you don’t have time to pull your hand from your shorts, and he’s looking at you, hair soaking wet and plastered to his forehead, his erect cock in his hand.

“I—” you squeak, face aflame. “I’m—I was—” you realize your hand is still between your legs, and you yank it out quickly. It makes both of you moan—you at the loss, and Brendon at seeing how your fingers shine with your arousal.

“You here because you need some help, darlin?”

“Fuck,” you whimper, staring at his naked body and the way his fist is wrapped around his erection. The water is dripping down his body, his cock is throbbing, and he looks like he’s moments from coming. You want to watch, you want to make him come, you want him to keep groaning your name. You want him.

Brendon extends a hand, smiling at you softly. There’s no way you can spin this. You’re inside his bathroom, listening to him jerk off, and you’ve got your hand in your shorts. It’s obvious what’s happening. You’re in too deep; you might as well give in.

“Oh, hell,” you mutter, stripping your shirt off and shoving your shorts down before accepting his hand.

The water is hot, and you gasp as he presses himself to your back; you whimper when his mouth finds the back of your neck, and his hand reaches down to tease your entrance. “Brendon,” you moan when he slips two fingers into you; he groans that you’re so fucking tight, and he’s right, you are. He feels so good, and you desperately want more. His dick is pressed against your ass now, and you’re grinding back against him. “Give me three, let me really imagine your cock filling my pussy,” you beg.

“You heard that, huh?” He grins and bites gently at your neck. “Yeah, baby, I’ll give you three.” He pulls his fingers out instead; when you protest, he nips at your earlobe. “Patience. Need to do this right; don’t want to hurt you.” He stretches for a bottle of silicone lubricant on the built-in shower shelf, and you squirm against him happily. His cock throbs against you while he pours the lubricant over his fingers; you spread your legs and lean back against his chest. “There we are,” Brendon murmurs, sliding three slick fingers against you. “Now I can take care of my girl.” Your heart lurches happily at his words, but before you can comment, his fingers are back inside you.

“Darlin,” he murmurs, his breath hot in your ear. “You gonna make me promise not to talk about this later?” You let out a wordless whimper, and he bites down before sucking hard. “Because honestly, that’s just not going to work for me.” You gasp, and he grins, lips pressed to your skin. “If I’m doing this, if we’re doing this, it’s because you want me. Not just because you want to get off.”

“God, Brendon,” you sigh, arching your back and rubbing against his cock. “Yes.”

“Yes, you want me?” His voice is soft. “Or,” and his fingers stop moving in you, making you whine. “Yes, you’re gonna make me promise not to bring it up?”

“You,” you manage, grabbing his wrist and trying to get him to move again. “You.”

“More specific, honey.” He bites down again in a new spot as his fingers flex; you go limp against him with a soft cry, and he wraps his free arm around your waist. “Yes or no, do you want me? Beyond sex—do you want to be with me? Because that’s how I want you. Been driving me fucking crazy since that night; I can’t stop thinking about you. Have wanted you for so long.”

“Yes,” you whisper, rolling your head back on his shoulder.

“Yes or no, you’re going to let us talk about this later.”

“Yes,” you repeat, turning in his arms and clinging to him. His mouth crushes over yours; you kiss him urgently, desperately. “Yes, yes, yes,” you murmur between kisses, your hips rocking as you press his cock between you. “Yes.”

“Good,” Brendon says simply, sinking to his knees. You become aware of his thick bath mat, and you file that away for future reference before your mind goes blank. His arm around your waist tugs you closer; he nudges your legs apart with his shoulder. “Spread these perfect legs for me.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, both hands on his shoulders. “Brendon.”

“Yes, darlin?” He looks up at you from between your legs, and you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. He looks so serious; there’s not a hint of playfulness in his expression now. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you repeat, and he smiles faintly, biting his lip. You can read his mind. “I do know other words besides ‘fuck,’ ‘Brendon,’ and ‘yes,’” you manage, and he licks between your legs. “Fuck!”

“I’m sure you do,” he murmurs, “but I’m not sure that you’ll need them in the near future.” And with that, his face is pressed between your legs, licking and sucking eagerly as his fingers work their way up the back of your thigh. He laps at your clit tenderly and, when you’re moaning, he slips three fingers deep inside you from behind.

“Fuck!” You cling to him. You honestly think you could come right now if he told you to. Instead, he moans against you. It vibrates up through your body; you bend over, clutching his head. “Brendon,” you choke. “Please.”

“There’s a new word,” he mumbles, fingers speeding up while his tongue moves in gentle circles. “A good word. Please, what?”

“More,” you pant, hips rocking against his face. “More, baby, please.”

“Darlin,” he moans, grabbing one of your legs and guiding it over a shoulder. He’s breathing hard and licking over you longingly. “Love when you ask so sweetly.” His can fingers go deep now that you’re spread wide with a leg draped over one of his shoulders; you gasp, hips spasming. “More?”

“More,” you moan, nodding frantically and leaning back against the shower wall for leverage. “I can take more; give me more—really eat it, eat my pussy, B; oh fuck!” Brendon groans again, and his tongue goes deep between his fingers, rubbing alongside them as his lips close over you. He’s sliding them over you so gently while his tongue strokes you, and you think you may lose your mind from how good he is at eating you out.

“Oh god,” you whimper, tugging at his hair. “Oh fuck, Brendon!”

He nods against you, and his tongue presses and rubs; you cry out with your orgasm, legs shaking and trembling. His tongue and fingers keep going, keep pushing you over the edge, and his arm around your waist tightens when your legs give out; you slide off of him and drop to your knees. You’re both breathing hard, kneeling on the floor of his shower, with steam and hot water flooding your senses. He’s smiling at you so brilliantly, and you moan, pulling his mouth to yours. Both arms tangle around your waist and he pulls you flush against him, one of his legs slotting between yours. You whimper into his kiss and grind tentatively on his thigh, both of you gasping at the feeling.

“Hang on, darlin,” Brendon groans. “I can make it better.” He stretches an arm to reach behind him, and when he brings his hand back, you see the bottle of silicone lube again. Without taking his eyes off you, he pops the lid and pours it freely onto his thigh; you start moving again, and the ease with which you can ride his thigh now makes you louder than ever. “Ride it, grind this sweet pussy all over me, make yourself feel good.”

“Want you to feel good too,” you murmur, rocking your hips fervently. “Want you to feel good.”

“Trust me,” he grunts, grabbing your hair and pulling you in for a long, heated kiss. “Trust me, I feel good. You feel so good.”

“Yeah?” You nuzzle a spot under his ear, and he groans, grabbing your ass with both hands and moving you faster, pressing you down harder. “You like this?”

“Only thing better than feeling your sweet cunt against my thigh would be feeling you on my cock,” Brendon whispers in your ear, tongue flicking out to tease the shell, making you shiver. “But it’s okay if you’re not—if it’s too—”

“Brendon,” you whimper, squeezing his erection firmly. “Yes. I want to.” You reach down between your legs to collect some of the silicone lube, and, watching him longingly, you start stroking a slick hand over his cock.

“Fuck, darlin,” he moans, kissing you gently, his tongue brushing yours. You clutch the back of his head, your other hand still stroking fervently while your hips roll. “Gonna let me get you on my cock and make you feel so damn good?”

“Please,” you manage, kissing down his neck. “Please.” He jerks back suddenly and you moan at the loss, but he’s climbing carefully to his feet and tugging you up too. “Brendon,” you gasp, and his lips are on yours as he pushes you up against the shower wall, nipping and sucking down your neck and collarbone. “Brendon, please.”

“Yeah, darlin, say my name.” He’s rocking against your thigh, cock slick with pre-cum and whatever he was using to jack off earlier, and you cry out. “I remember you liking how rough I fingered you,” he whispers in your ear. “You like getting fucked that way too?”

“Yes,” you whimper, spreading your legs on the mat, grateful for its traction keeping you upright. “Yes.”

“Shit, Y/n,” he groans, one hand gripping his cock as he guides it to your opening. “I’ve been thinking about this, about you, since—”

“Me too,” you admit, spreading your legs slightly to sink down on him. “Oh god!”

“Y/n,” Brendon grunts as he sheathes himself in you fully. “Your cunt—god, you’re incredible.” He grabs both of your hands with his and pins them over your head, thrusting into you quick and shallow. “Honey, if you’ve been thinking about it too—I gotta know, why did you go to bed that night without letting us talk about it?”

“Thought you thought it was a mistake,” you groan, crying out happily when he tugs at your hair.

“You’re the one who asked if it was,” Brendon points out, and you whine, nodding. “I never said I thought it was. Just asked you—and then you went to bed and made me promise the next day to never bring it up.”

“Got scared,” you admit. “Was self-conscious and scared, and—harder,” you pant, pushing your hips into his to meet his thrusts. “Harder, fuck me harder.” He groans and speeds up while going deeper, making you cry out with every stroke.

“Yes!” You squeal when he angles himself slightly and presses right where you want him with the head of his cock. “Fuck, yes, Brendon, yes, yes!”

“Up,” he commands, one hand leaving yours to grab your thigh. “You’re not going anywhere; I won’t let you fall.” You nod and carefully wrap a leg around his hips. “Other one too.” You lift the other, and he bites a spot low on your neck. “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you. I want you. Want this,” he groans, hips rocking again. “Want us. Want you to be mine, want to be yours.”

“Brendon,” you gasp, tightening your legs around him. “Please. Please.”

“What do you need, darlin?”

“Make me come,” you beg, hands tangled with his as he holds them over your head. “Make me come. I’m yours, all yours. Make me come.”

“Mine. Darlin, if you don’t come on my cock, I’m going to spank you.”

“Oh shit,” you whimper. “Bren, I—I love—getting—”

He grins. “You love getting spanked?” You nod, and he thrusts into you harder. “I knew it. I knew I had a wild girl on my hands.”

“On your cock,” you correct with a breathless laugh, and Brendon laughs too before grabbing the showerhead and aiming it against your clit. “Oh god, yes—fuck—Brendon, hold it right there—god, yes! Just thinking about you spanking me—and it’s right on my clit, baby, yes oh god—Brendon, please, please—oh!” You fall apart, crying his name, and he kisses you hard, hips snapping forward as he fucks you through your climax.

“Honey, I’m fucking close,” he groans. “If you want me to pull out, I will, but you gotta tell me—Y/n, I’m gonna—tell me now!”

“Oh god, in me,” you pant, your legs tightening around his waist. “In me, I want you to come in me, fucking give me everything.”

“Fuck,” Brendon grunts, burying his face in your neck. You can feel him pulsing in you, can feel the warmth spreading, and you close your eyes. You desperately want to remember this moment forever. When his breathing evens out against your skin, you carefully untangle your legs from his body.

“Fuck, B, that was so damn good.”

“Yes,” Brendon groans, kissing you. “Yes, it was.” He reaches to the side and turns off the water before opening the curtain and snatching a towel to wrap around you. “Here, darlin.” He kisses your forehead, and you melt, hugging him tightly. “Sweet girl,” he murmurs, holding you to him. “Y/n—can I take you to bed? Want you in my bed.”

“Yes,” you whisper, and he twists your hair into a rope around his hand, wringing it out gently. “Please.”

-||-

“You’re unreal,” he moans, sucking on one of your nipples as you writhe under him. “You’re incredible, darlin.”

“You’re not half-bad yourself,” you say with a short laugh. “B, I’m so sorry I got scared and didn’t let us talk about that night. About us.” You reach over to stroke his cock. “Hard again,” you marvel and he grins, switching breasts.

“Easy when my bed partner looks like this,” he murmurs against your skin. “Darlin, no need to apologize. We’re here now; we’ve talked. God, I’m just glad we finally got our shit together.”

You whimper in agreement, and he sucks harder, one hand moving down between your legs. “Love those sounds you make for me.” He sighs when his fingers trace through your heat. “Wet again,” he says in a tone that matches yours. You smile and tug at his hair.

“Easy when my bed partner looks like this,” you tease, gasping when his fingers slide into you. “Oh, Brendon, baby, yes.”

“Or it could just be that my girl let me come in her, and that’s why her hot cunt is so slick,” Brendon murmurs, grinning when you moan. “Have I mentioned how much I love when you say yes?” He’s shifting to hover over you. “Can I have you?”

“Yes,” you sigh happily as he pulls his fingers out and thrusts into you gently. “Yes.”

“I’m gonna be slow and gentle with you this time,” Brendon tells you, kissing your cheek. “Loved having you in the shower like that, but I want you every way. You deserve to be loved slowly and deeply, and I’m gonna be the one to do it.”

“Yes,” you repeat. “Brendon, yes.”

“God, darlin, don’t know which I love more, my name on your lips or you telling me yes.”

“I could, oh fuck, say another name,” you tease, and his eyes narrow playfully. “I think we have your answer then.”

“Damn right. I’m yours, and I’m committed; I want you to be committed too. I want you to be mine. I want to be the only one making you feel like this. I want to be the only one getting to see you come undone, getting to feel you take my cum. I want to be the only one fucking you, making love to you, getting you coming like this. Yes?”

“Yes,” you agree breathlessly. “Yes. Have wanted you, have needed you for so long. I only need you, and I only want you. You’re mine, Bren, and I’m only yours.”

“Good,” Brendon murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips over yours. “We’ll talk more later, but Y/n, I’m entirely yours. You know that means I love you, right?” You smile radiantly and nod. “And you love me, don’t you?” Brendon’s voice is soft, hopeful.

“Yes.”

[merryro]

bottom ryan ross fic recs =D

this post is what it says on the tin! mostly ryden, i'll indicate if otherwise. fics w ☆ means they're my FAVES. will update as i find more, so check it every so often and there Might be a new fic listed heh ^_^

fics on livejournal! (most of these are written by the same writer?!)

☆ Rose Is a Four-Letter Word *sort of gsf (but mostly ryden), summary: Ryan's allergic to roses. Well, maybe "allergic" is the wrong word for it. my absolute FAVOURITE fic. ever.

☆ There's No 'I' In Ryan Ross *gsf, summary: Jon Walker attempts the impossible: to make the gayest band on the planet even gayer

hormones in key *panic! gsf + pete wentz on the phone

The Taste of Red *summary: It would seem absurdly ordinary, Ryan waking up next to another body like this, except for the fact that Brendon's not breathing. vampire brendon!

We Were Dreamers Not So Long Ago *rywalk, summary: Set about ten years in the future in a cabin in the woods, Jon and Ryan go to unwind before they start up again. Ryan's less than pleased, but that changes quickly.

We Were Heading For The Sea *summary: "Across the kitchen table, I fired several rounds, but you were still sitting there when the smoke cleared." – Ani Difranco post-split ANGST ANGST

☆ and set this cruise control for crash *rycer, summary: We had to, Ryan says, for the band. my notes for this fic was "CDSZZYYFUCKING FIC IM LOSING ITTTTT"

☆ Crush (With Eyeliner) *gsf, summary: Yeah, honestly, Jon Walker totally is that kind of guy. He just doesn't know it yet. anything written in jon's pov is automatically a 10/10 fic

Broken Glass and Rusty Nails *summary: When Ryan gets the tattoo, he bears it casually, sprawled out in the chair and smiling at Brendon's chatter as the needle traces over his skin. ryan has a freaky pain kink

Here Be Dragons * no summary but here's the main gist: time travel fic, ryan wants to be the one to take brendon's virginity underaged brendon but not by a lot

A Little Less Sixteen Candles A Little More Schoolboy Crush *rywentzden or whatever the shipname for ryan/brendon/pete is, double penetration, summary: What if Ryan can have them both?

The Pros and Cons of Group Sex With Your Bandmates *gsf + pete again! that man is always in patd's business

☆ That First Inconveivable Touch *summary: Ryan never gets what he wants like this. It's just not how his life works. dirty sex in a bathroom!

Like a Game *sequel to That First Inconceivable Touch summary: Boys are only after one thing, Ryan is. Ryan doesn't know what he's after, but he hopes to find that only one thing one of these days so he can stop looking.

This Is Screaming 'Photo Op' *summary: Brendon thinks Ryan is totally sexy. brendon finds pics of ryan naked

☆ laid bare for all to see, but mostly just for you *no summary but here's the gist: ryan is a slut and brendon fucks him against a window (its REALLY hot)

☆ NaNoRyRo *a compilation of ryden smutshots over 30 days. literally felt like i struck gold finding this

Bets Off * summary: "I know you guys are taking bets on me and Brendon," Ryan said, "and I want in." kinda sad since we’re actually in the future now and… they didn’t last forever

you’ll be platinum *summary: Brendon's sex tape gets mixed reviews. i honestly love the way this fic went from brendons sex tape is leaked to ryan has an existential crisis

after i have dreamed *summary: Brendon’s eyes are huge and brown and his lashes are approximately as thick as trees, and yeah, their noses are brushing because Brendon has just leaned in closer. He’s thumbing Ryan’s arm carefully, blinking, and Ryan swallows and squeezes his eyes shut, suppressing the urge to bite his lip. such a beautiful fic, chockfull of wonderful imagery

In The Sound *was deleted off lj but luckily someone saved this on the wayback machine! so that’s the link i put here, summary: How could you walk away from it? Why are you still walking away? this fic. wow. ok it doesn’t count as bottom ryan bc theres no explicit sex, but its just such a good story so i wanted to recommend it! its a ‘what if’ brendon left the band scenario n yeah its heartbreaking but its a happy ending!!!

Take Center Stage And Step Up To Save The Last Dance (He Was A Sk8er Boi) *ryden switch! ryan tops first then brendon, if udm!! summary: They come from two different worlds. a fic inspired by Sk8er Boi by avril lavigne! ryans a skater and brendon does dance

like you imagined *summary: Yeah, Ryan's thought about it. ryden’s first time! sooo hot

Spin Cycle *ryan has a dirty stinky tshirt kink, doesn’t technically bottom cs he just sucks brendon off but its really hot!

To A Man’s Heart *side couples jon/joe and spencer/patrick summary: Desperate to escape an arranged marriage, Charleston belle Ryan Ross heads to Denver and takes his chances as a mail-order bride. When he arrives, he discovers that handsome rancher Brendon Urie has absolutely no desire to marry--until Ryan charms him with his sweet nature and even sweeter kisses.

One Summer Last Fall *summary: Fall Out Boy never existed, so life is pretty tough for Ryan Ross. no actual fucking in this one but its such a hilarious read!

In Medias Res *summary: One minute they were watching tv and Brendon was groping Ryan good-naturedly, and the next...

The Ones You Can Count On *ryan/william beckett/mike carden no summary but basically ryan is sad bc he cant have brendon so bill and mike carden of tai… fuck him! really hot and really good

☆ Four Men And A Little Cabin *gsf, Unrelated, non-linear scenes from a recording cabin

The Hand That Feeds *summary: It's always easy enough for Ryan to come to him after the fact, after ignoring Brendon all night, after being with her; easy enough for Brendon to give in.

☆ That’s What He Said *gsf, idk how to tag this but everyone fucks everyone, its hot, summary: Truckstops and Statelines and boyfriends, etc.

Sweeter Than Candy, Better Than Cake *gsf, summary: It's really no big deal that their male guitarist smells fruity and has unnecessarily glossy lips.

The One Where Ryan Ross Gets Gangbanged *panic! gsf, but mainly ryden, summary: All Ryan wants on his birthday is to get fucked. A lot.

just a little longer, long enough *kind of rycer? and joncer.. and also ryden… summary: Spencer has plans, Spencer gets what he wants, Spencer is clueless. A spencer character study, really worth a read!!

☆ where the light bends at the cracks *ryon, with a super subtle tiny hint at ryden, no summary and idk how to describe it even, just read it!!!

Hum Along With The TV *not really explicit sex but im pretty sure ryan bottoms… summary: "Brendon." There's a smile as he sits down on the bottom step, knocking Ryan's knees slightly; a smile with straight, white teeth and an imperious mouth, one that gets imprinted into memory. He cups his hands around his lips and tilts his head. There's a brief orange glow and a lazy stream of smoke as Brendon asks, "So, what are you here for?"

"penises are for boys, vaginas are for girls, unless of course, something crazy happens. then anything's game." *fem ryan!

☆ Date Night *summary (ok not a summary, its an excerpt, live with it.): It’s almost like starting from scratch, even though they’ve been invading each other’s personal space on a fairly regular basis for a couple of years now. But there’s a big difference between friendship and relationship and up to this point, everything that’s been done has been for show. i really loved this one for some reason… so sweet!

Moulin Rouge AU *rycer, (toxic-ish) brencer and ryden, MAJOR character death(s), no summary but its basically what it says on the tin HAHA. i really wanted to love this but god that ending is just SICK. maybe one of you will be into the heartbreak as terrible as this one gave me

Retail jobs and cracks in the ceiling *they fuck in the second part! summary: Such a muddy line between the things you want and the things you have to do.

☆ Always Leaving, But *brendon bottoms in the 3rd part but the rest of it should be bottom ryan! has ryan/keltie and a little brendon/pete, summary: If there's a science to it, Brendon can't figure it out. This fic. THIS FIC. fucked me UP. read it!!!!

False Advertising *kind of rycer at the end, summary: AU. Ryan makes a mistake. Spencer helps him out.

☆ (sequel to False Advertising) Small Blessings *rycer/brencer and joncer too, summary: Spencer Smith puts up with a lot of shit. okay so this was a really strange whack fic, but in the BEST WAY possible. totally recommend it, just. read itttttt

It’s All Secret Love *summary: Flashbacks and love making.

everyone is shaking to your name *summary: Okay, so, um. Ryan really, really hates admitting this – and, well, he's never really admitted it before, the only person who knows is Spencer – but... Ryan goes on the voyeur website things. this one’s a little strange, so do heed the notes and warnings!

Carousel *this one’s a bit tough to tag the ships HAHA its gsf, ryden-leaning with jealous spencer, and also its MPREG (read the prequel linked in the notes), summary: "Don't do anything drastic before coffee. I don't want to miss it." huh! this one was strange too… do read it though, its interesting… a housemd crossover (kinda)

☆ ☆ All We Fear is All That Can Save Us *summary: Jon and Ryan still talk to Spencer, and Jon still talks to Brendon, but since that decision was made last May, Ryan and Brendon haven't really talked. And Brendon knows that he shouldn't be surprised that Ryan's here; after all, he's here and he's never been as, well, expressive about sex as Ryan has been. TWO STARS BC THIS FIC IS GENUINELY LIFE CHANGING. dom brendon and sub ryan post-split and its ough my GOD. read it read it NOWWW

Elsewhere *small hint of one-sided brencer, The Giver (novel) au, summary: According to Spencer, the Community is the way it is for the good of everyone. “Choices are dangerous,” he tells Brendon. “What if people were to choose the wrong thing?” ~20,000, this reawakened my childhood obsession with dystopian novels, give it a read!

☆ Nerds In Love *summary: "Sorry, man. Maybe you should call Geek Squad."

this one time, at band camp… (or; save a drum, bang a drum major) *summary: Spencer's best friend is falling for the guy they used to refer to as "the annoying kid from All-State". definitely my favourite band au

☆ the trapeze act was wonderful but never meant to last *wentzross, summary: Someday we'll be loved the way we want to be loved by the people we want to love us. SO BEAUTIFUL AND TERRIBLY HEARTBREAKING. read it if you hate/love yourself

Except under the pale light *wentzross, summary: Later, Pete will make pancakes. Maybe he'll bring Ryan along to the studio, maybe he'll let Ryan talk him into eyeliner again.

Walking Sideways Takes Longer, But You Get There Eventually *spyan, summary: Ryan tries to have a positive heteronormative influence on Spencer, but it doesn't go as planned, because come on! Who do you think you are kidding, Ryan Ross?

Dealing With Bullets *summary: “You know these words, though.” Brendon points out. Ryan just shrugs and says, “Yes, my mind does, but do my fingers?” Brendon thinks about the question for a long, long time. Three days later, Spencer is already asking about how Ryan got Brendon to be this quiet and would he mind sharing the secret?

pointy fucking shoes *this one’s kinda fucked up, so, summary: Ryan isn't sure who he is so he tries to forget.

☆ Back To The Place You Are *brendon/OFC but its ryden-centric and ryden endgame! summary: “He’s cute.” Brendon looks over at her, startled, and wonders if it’s all as obvious as it feels, if she can see it scrawled across his face after only talking to him for ten minutes. “He’s uh. He’s my band mate.” She smiles and nods like she knows there’s more to it than that, but doesn’t know him well enough to ask. really cute brendon character study sorta? its a good exploration of ryden’s relationship and its a happy ending =) readdd ittttt

I thought *summary: In the beginning, the Thing that Brendon and Ryan start up isn't supposed to be anything other than a way to relax and unwind. After awhile, Brendon stops being sure what it actually is, and what either of them want.

These Elegant Crimes *wentzross (technically its more petekey which has nothing to do w ryro but i digress, its a good fic!) summary: After his Summer of Like ends, Pete convinces himself that Ryan is what he needs. Pete's still got a few hang-ups, however, and that's made clearest when Infinity on High is produced. In other words: No one is getting what they need.

Hasselhoff *wentzross, jailbait ryan, summary: Pete Wentz can't seem to drink enough to have a good time at this rep party. The beer doesn't taste right, the band playing pretty much sucks, and everywhere he turns dumb teenagers shanghai him. But when one teen, a slight, brown-eyed boy, pops up, Pete can't help but feel something other than annoyance.

Like Light Ends, With a Z *ryden switch!! brendon gets bit by a chinchilla and enters a sex craze 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Clandestine *summary: Ryan doesn't expect Brendon to actually show up in New York at the show and he certainly doesn't expect what happens, only now he can't quite let go. the young veins postdivorce era fic!

I Am the Derivative and You Are the Curves *summary: Brendon’s good at math. Ryan isn’t. In fact, Ryan’s so bad, he needs a tutor. In fact, his tutor is Brendon. This, of course, leads to weekly meetings, but sushi breaks and local concerts follow, to costume parties and beer pong, first dates and thanksgiving break, and more than Ryan could've thought possible from someone with a stack of books that thick. theres some past jon/brendon

Acquiescence Hard Gained *actually a joncer fic, but theres SOME ryden and i love this fic so im reccing it anyway. summary: Spencer had the control. It took Jon a little longer to notice that perhaps Spencer didn’t want that role. d/s elements

Irrevocably Combined *summary: Wherein Ryan really just needs some time to figure a few things out. takes place after ryan’s dad dies

Meant It When I Said “The Pleasure Is Mine” *no fucking, just really intense rimming and YES

☆ The Width of a Circle *summary: An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted upon by an external and unbalanced force.' Patrick watches the pieces fall together. just, the sweetest fic ever. tells the story of ryden getting together through the eyes of patrick

Bedazzled (blinded by the light) *summary: Brendon is Ryan's canvas.

Synergy *gsf, summary: They weren't so much dating as simply existing.

☆ Ryan Ross’s Guide To Sex Positions *summary says it all tbh, summary: Ryan's favorite sex positions with all three of his boyfriends, and his favorite with all of them together, THIS FIC IS EVERYTHING IVE EVER WANTED

Asphyxiophilia *spyan, summary: Ryan discovered his biggest kink, the thing that could get him off the fastest, make him come the hardest, when he was almost too young to even understand what he was feeling. breathplay! super hot. underaged spencer though

fics on ao3!

not to shamelessly plug but my patd fics are all bottom ryan. it's not much but check it out if you wanna ^_^

☆ ash in your mouth *summary: Ryan just tilts his head, hands behind his back on the table, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, make-up runny and smudgy, eyes alive, little pearl teeth biting his lips as if he’s holding something back. the end has a little kick to it.

Give Me Envy, Give Me Malice, Give Me Your Attention *summary: The aftermath of Brendon running into Ryan at the 2015 Halloween party.

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out *rycer (implied gsf), summary: Ryan has a strange affinity for sweat. And when I say affinity… sex pollen-esque

Hands Down *summary: Brendon is experimenting, but he doesn't know that Ryan is too.

Out of Tune *this fic is locked so you need an account to read it, summary: Brendon wakes up tone deaf. Ryan has no idea what to do. Maybe sex will fix it?

What We Have Is What We Will Be Given *summary: They finally have a hotel night, and Ryan's got everything planned, even if he's not the one in charge.

☆ No Object *wentzross, ryden switch, summary: The first blowjob Pete gets from Ryan is startlingly mediocre, considering that it's the kid's job.

Fucking like rabbits *summary: Ryan has been desperate for the whole show, Brendon is sweaty and in love, and their last song is a fucking love song. They really were reinventing love right on that stage. stage gay on another level

it's just flesh, it's just flesh *locked fic! summary: Ryan's mouth tastes sort of like the sour candy he got from the vending machine earlier, but mostly it's just hot and wet and warm. this one also has a lil kick! small kick

Drive Faster, Boy *summary: Ryan, Brendon, backseats, secrets.

☆ That Left a Mark *DUBCON (brendon is super drunk) summary: Alcohol initially serves as a stimulant, then induces feelings of relaxation and reduced anxiety. Consumption of two or three drinks in an hour can impair judgment, lower inhibitions, and induce mild euphoria.

An Unlikely Victorian Heroine *locked fic, summary: "You're like a Victorian heroine," Brendon says, rolling one bracelet over Ryan's hand to expose a little more skin, then another and another until he has a small pile on the bed. "Arms aren't supposed to get me so hot, Ross."

☆ How Did I Fall In Love With You? *summary: Bad things happen when Ryan reads fanfiction. i love meta fics like this

You Will Know The Difference When I Touch You *summary: It wasn’t a gay thing at first. Well, it was possible that Brendon had a tiny little crush on Ryan, but it was a buried thing in the back of his still-half-Mormon brain, emerging very slowly.

Two of Cups *the second part is gsf, summary: Spencer and Ryan are part of Pete's travelling circus. Jon and Brendon come for the show, but there's something about the place that keeps them coming back for more.

It must be an alien thing *idk if this counts but its ryan getting girl parts and brendon fucks him and if bden fucks him then yeah hes a bottom idc, summary: “His dick’s missing too,” adds Jon, and if Ryan had lasers in his eyes, Jon Walker would be history right then and there. “And he keeps telling this alien theory, but it can’t be fucking aliens, man. Aliens are too busy doing their shit to give you tits and a pussy.”

☆ Leaving Without Moving *mainly ryden but theres a hint of one-sided rycer from ryan, summary: "I'm not trying to embarrass you or anything here. But seriously, I'm just trying to make things clear - what you want is to be my own personal little toy, is that it? You want to be my pet in the... pet sense?" I HAVE NOOO IDEA HOW IVE NEVER COME ACROSS THIS FIC BEFORE ITS SO GOOD!!

☆ Hard to Believe in Sundays *rywalk, summary: Ryan shouldn't be making out with one of The Academy Is…'s techs in the dusky brown darkness behind his own tour bus where everyone, anyone, could see. Truckstops and Statelines-era. Just. wow the writing and the story are super amazeballs

Candyman *summary: It's a strange and beautiful thing to hate yourself so much you'd let someone else do this to you. Even stranger is trusting them enough to say these things and not mean it. Or mean it and love fuck you anyway. post-split, kinda poetic and angsty

☆ Give me more *read the tags! summary: They called this tough love. 2005, just starting out the band, brendon getting kicked out his house, just a really interesting and well-written fic. couldn't put it down once i started!

☆ Dog Ears, Frozen Lakes and the Resonance of Your Voice *gsf (mainly ryden), summary: The boys go on vacation to a secluded cabin in Switzerland for Christmas. a short sweet and hot fic! ryan just loves his whole band

Bossy *summary: In which Ryan is like, kind of a bitch to be honest, but in a good way. Subby top brendon and dom bottom ryan

☆ We’ll Reinvent Love *brendon bottoms in the last chapter, summary: “He remembers back when he was younger, and he would scrape his elbow, and because he hadn’t yet started these daily screaming matches with his mom, she would place a band-aid over it, ever so gently, and then an even gentler kiss on top of that. And because Ryan looks like his world is one big scraped elbow at the moment, Brendon leans forward and kisses him, butterfly-soft, and pulls away before Ryan gets a chance to do it first.” read this all almost in one shot and it made me slighty crazy… read it, it is SO wonderful

A Little Push *summary: In which Brendon finds out some interesting info about Ryan and acts on it.

[thebongwaterbimbo]

You know in about 2018 I had made an Instagram account roleplaying as Ryan Ross from THROAM. (Yes it’s still up if you’re wondering @thisistherealthroamryanross).

At the time; I thought it was silly. Was just roleplaying as a fanfic character. However, it started to catch on and people made other characters accounts. So I started gathering them and even seeking out other willing throam fans to be characters.

We had a groupchat too, I read every chapter for the week and would send a text to update everyone and have them post what they needed. Even had an updating account so followers (I will not make a joke here) would know where we were in the trilogy.

I miss it, the community and bonding of being a kid and having a silly fandom. I used to have so many stupid anon tell asks and I always had so much fun replying as this cynical fucked up guy: never knew how I could do it so naturally.

Well, anyway long story short; years later I find out I have DID and just had a throam Ryan fictive. So that’s one hell of a legacy, I guess.

[saturnplaza]

𝐈𝐭 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐖𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭// 𝓐 𝓡𝔂𝓪𝓷 𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓧 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽

I love Ryan Ross and there simply are not enough fanfics about him out there so I am here too add.

This is Circa 2002, set in a different universe where the Pre-Split Panic! boys are a friend group instead of a band.

Simple premis for this one.

Reader Invites Ryan to skip school and get high, they end up confessing eachothers feelings.

There are no trigger warnings this fic is very lax.

This is definitly not my best work, but I do still like it, Kudos and Comments a greatly apreciated<3

Word Count: 3,934

Have a good rest of your day <333

[l0verswhilewesleep]

My toxic trait is I read throam every few years or so and each time I finish it I swear the trajectory of my life changes

[dashiellqvverty]

everyone wants to talk about rpf these days but no one wants to talk about larry stylinson. sad.

[mikeywayat2005warpedtour]

Ryan was kneeling in the bath tub

[formula1fanfiction]

Charles Leclerc / Pierre Gasly / George Russell

Title: sweet little victories

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Pierre Gasly / George Russell

Characters: Charles Leclerc, Pierre Gasly, George Russell

Prompt: George and Charles comfort Pierre after his podium at Zandvoort. As part 3 of what happened between Gasly/Russell and Russell/Leclerc earlier. Bottom Pierre

"Surprise baby." Pierre gasps in shock as he opens his hotel room door and finds Charles and George? already waiting for him. George is sat awkwardly on the bed, his huge legs taking up most of the room. Charles on the hand is practically beaming and jumping up and down on his feet, which means he has something planned, and that plan clearly involves him and George as well.

"I know he fucked you in Miami, then I fucked him in Italy and I thought it was about time we came together-" George cuts Charles off, appearing behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "About time we came together and celebrated your podium."

"Yes, to celebrate your podium." Charles beams as if he had forgotten." Pierre shuffles from one foot to the other very confused. "Celebrate my podium?" Charles takes Pierre by the hand and aggressively pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms around his neck and whispering into his ear. "So what do you want to do?"

"We could double penetrate him." George says from somewhere behind Charles, clearly feeling left out. Charles nearly chokes on his breath seeing the lust in Pierre's eyes. "That's not possible, you only see that in porn."

"It most certainly is possible, I speak from experience." George wraps his arms around Pierre's neck and rests his head on his shoulder. "So what do you think Pierre?" The Frenchman shivers from the kisses George is leaving on his neck. "Fuck, please."

"Who double penetrated you, I don't think it's possible." Charles asks coming out of his trance. "Alex and Lewis." George shrugs "And they aren't what you would call small."

"Please, can we at least just try?" Pierre moans sounding much more slutty than he intended but Charles has had him begging for his cock before and clearly George his participated in extremely kinky activities before, so he can't find it in himself to care.

"Course baby it is you we are celebrating but if it gets too much i'm putting a stop to it." Charles watches the look of irritation on George's face as he removes Pierre's team jersey and neatly laying it on the back of the chair. "I'm obviously not going to hurt him, Charles."   

"Why don't we get this thing started?" Pierre gently nudges Charles away from him and uses the time to push down his underwear and jeans with one swift move and frees his already hard cock from it cotton prison. "Why don't you get on your hands and knees on the bed?" Charles asks grabbing the bottle of lube from his bag.

"I'm going to open him up." Charles raises his eyebrow at George. "I don't trust you do it." Charles tosses his Ferrari jersey onto the floor and settles himself behind Pierre and lubes up his fingers.

"Are you just going to stare at me George or are you going to come over?" Pierre's question comes out breathy because Charles had chosen that moment to sink the first finger inside. George doesn't waste a single second and climbs up onto the bed with them.

"Such a shame." George wraps his hand around Pierre's cock it's huge and heavy in his hand. "I'd love to feel this inside of me." Pierre's eyes are unfocused, Charles has two fingers inside now and it's easily thrusting them in and out of him. "Stop being slutty George, maybe if you did something worthwhile for a change we could celebrate you."  Charles snaps while adding a third finger.

George feels like a spectator these two are clearly in love with each other, it almost feels like he's intruding. He continues to stroke Pierre's cock anyway, using his pre cum as lube.

"Don't worry George, i'll make you feel so good." George is confused, when did Charles finish? He doesn't even have time to remove his clothing but Pierre is straddling him. His pupils are dilated with lust and his hand shakes as he takes George's cock out of his pants. "Fuck, Pierre." George moans and places his hand on Pierre's hip for support.  

Charles sits beside George's head and watches as Pierre sinks down onto George's cock, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he reaches the hilt with one swift move. Pierre throws his head back, hands gripping tightly onto George's shoulder, clenching and unclenching around George's cock as he gets used to the feeling. Charles watches George's knuckles turn white from how hard he's squeezing Pierre's hips as the Frenchman slowly starts to ride him.

"Pierre," Charles calls out and Pierre moans and his eyes snap open. "Are you fine?" Pierre nods rising the whole way up, only to sink back down onto George again, both of them crying out in pleasure.

"I'm so proud of you." Charles cups Pierre's stubbled jaw and presses a kiss onto his mouth, it takes Pierre a minute to catch up but he soon starts kissing back, their tongues battling for dominance. George is starting to feel a little left out again, so he thrusts up extra hard making him moan into Charles' mouth. "Fuck."

"Tell me what you need me to do baby." Charles pulls away from Pierre's mouth, who is panting heavily. "Your fingers, I need you inside me Charles, please your fingers first."   

"Anything for you baby." Charles circles Pierre's rim where he's already stretched wide around George. Charles' cock is much bigger than George's and he's still not sure how they are both going to fit but there is nothing he won't try for Pierre.

Charles grabs the bottle of lube and pours a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and pushes the first digit inside. "Charles..." Pierre pants, stalling his pace. "feels so good.

"You're doing so well." George soothes, rubbing circles into Pierre's hip as Charles sinks a second finger inside, pulling a ragged breath from Pierre. "It feels so good I promise." George distracts Pierre by kissing him as Charles adds a third finger and starts thrusting them in and out of him.

"I'm ready Charles, please." Pierre pants into George's mouth. "Are you sure?" George asks feeling nervous, he's still not sure how this is possible. "Please Charles, I need it."

There is just nothing Charles won't give to Pierre but he still feels a little hesitant as he climbs over George's massive legs. "If you need to stop, please just say." Pierre chuckles. "That won't happen but i'll tell you okay?" Charles nods. "Okay, then lets stuff you up."

George grunts as Charles pushes Pierre onto him, he manages to catch him and peppers little kisses across is slack mouth as Charles nudges the head of his cock against Pierre's hole.

"I'm going to start Pierre." is the only warning before he feels the pressure against him,  for a moment he thinks Charles' huge cock won't fit but the head slides inside much easier than he expected. Pierre moans a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"It will start to feel good soon, I promise." George slides his hands down Pierre's body and spreads his ass open, giving Charles much easier access. Pierre braces himself, his breaths coming out in slow pants.

"Charles." Pierre grunts in a pained whine. "P, are you okay? Do you want me to stop?" Charles stars but Pierre cuts him off. "I'm fine, keep pushing." Charles does as he told, giving Pierre an inch at a time until he's all the way inside. Charles feels dizzy from Pierre's vice like grip around him.

Pierre is breathing heavy and ragged, his eyes remain closed. "Fuck this hurts so much." Pierre laughs. "I feel so stretched open, I don't think i've ever been so full." George's hand is softly rubbing is lower back in soothing circles as Charles peppers kisses over his sweaty neck, giving him all the time he needs to adjust.

"I'm ready." Pierre pants to no one in particular, letting himself go completely limp against George's sweaty body. George remains completely still as Charles slowly starts to move.

George remains mostly quiet, Charles is the one controlling the pace filling Pierre with slow deep thrusts, George himself starts move, just barely just enough to let Pierre knows he's there while kissing Pierre through every thrust.

"I can take more." Pierre whimpers into George's mouth as the Brit spreads him wider, George speeds up to meet Charles pace, both filling up with deep thrusts, sending him wild with pleasure. Pierre bites down on George's shoulder desperately, his achingly hard cock is trapped against George's stomach and rubs against his skin.

Pierre tries to arch up his thrusts to meet Charles' now much harder thrusts but becomes overwhelming all too soon and instead just lays against George's chest, enjoying the way George quickens his pace to match Charles, both men filling him beautifully to the brim. Pierre can't do anything other than just lay there and enjoy the ride.

Charles pushes his head down onto George's chest and kisses the Brit. "What? I'm just a hole now?" Pierre laughs, watching the two of them kissing pushes him towards to point of no return, fuck it's so hot.

Pierre loses it first, the overwhelming feeling of being stretched to the brim and fucked hard is enough to push him over the edge, he screams as he comes spilling himself over George's body. They continue to fuck him hard through his orgasm, making sure to avoid overstimulation him as they search for their own orgasm.

George is the next to lose it, his fingers claw at Pierre's skin as he reaches the height of his orgasm and spills his load inside, he slips out instantly, letting Charles have his own moment with his boyfriend.

"Fuck, you're so hot, i'm so proud of you." Charles pulls Pierre back until he's sitting in his lap, his sweaty back pressed against Charles' chest. "You did you good today." Charles pants and fucks into Pierre with all his might, the sound of skin slapping against skin echo's around the bedroom.

"Think you can mange one more?" Charles wraps his hand around Pierre's once again hard cock and strokes him to the same pace as his thrusts, until  they come together, Pierre blacks out from the force of his second orgasm as Charles spills inside of him, his cum mixing with George's.

"Is he okay?" George asks as Charles gently lays him on top of the bed covers. "I think he's fine."

George wipes the mess off Pierre's body with a damp wash cloth, which seems to be enough to wake him from his sleep.

"That was fucking amazing, I think I need to podium more often.

[dangerousblues708]

made a playlist for throam :3

[cookies3038]

ABSENCE (BRENDON URIE X RYAN ROSS)

TW: Self harm, self harm references, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, child abuse, blood, sharp objects, suicide attempts, suicidal thoughts and suicide references .

Please do not continue to read if you are sensitive to any of these topics!

Angsty/fluffy Teen! Brendon Urie x Teen! Ryan Ross oneshot.

Word Count: 6753

Hope you enjoy, please comment on any errors or improvements/suggestions or if there are any trigger warnings i missed! This is my first post. I apologise if it's bad yikes >_<.

Also put any one shot requests you have here:

If you have any other ships or x readers (of emo men) put them here:

Also! Credits to one of my best friends called Ash!!! My platonic soulmate :p They helped me with the story line, especially the angst :3

—————-

Ryan kicked his shoes off and walked into his house. The horribly familiar scent of alcohol filled his nose, quickly running upstairs to avoid his dad. They lived in a relatively small town, his dad only went to his job for alcohol. He was getting money from his dead wife's bank account; he figured that kept Ryan’s needs sorted. Ryan would often get beatings from his dad, he never had a safe place until he went to school. Even at school he would be bullied and Ryan usually went home to cry himself to sleep. He always wishes everything would be different. Perhaps it would be better if his mom was here; he still went to visit her gravestone every weekend. His dad didn’t care for her except for the money he obtained from her death.

Ryan usually woke up at 5:45am to get ready for school. He had to do everything himself, so it took him longer than others who had their parents support. Ryan had set out all his clothes for the day, until something caught his eye. He looked down at the faded scars on his wrist; they reminded him of the times where he used to self-harm to feel better. Especially after his mother’s death. He stared around his room; the wooden box containing blades had an unusual enticing aura. fuck. He couldn’t relapse now, he’s 3 whole months clean; nearly 100 days.

He swiftly grabbed the blade and made 7 deep slashes across his wrist. He grabbed a tissue to clean himself up.It was the middle of summer and 71.6°F outside. He’d either just have to risk being spotted by teachers or wear a jacket all day. It was way too hot for a jacket and he had sports today; there is no way he could go with a jacket on all day. His school didn’t even have any goddamn air con. Ryan eventually decided to leave his jacket at home and try to cover up his fresh scars with band bracelets. He scrambled down the stairs with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“GET HERE RIGHT NOW!” His dad furiously shouted, Ryan could feel his stomach bubbling with anxiety and dread. He had to obey his father otherwise the punishment would be 10 times worse. He knew what was coming, it happened everyday. His father would punch him and occasionally break glass bottles on his head. Ever since he was born his dad became addicted to drugs. He blamed it on Ryan as he became a father when he didn’t want to.

As Ryan obtained eye contact with the burly irate man, he could see him clench his fist and shake with frustration. He braced himself as he took a clean strike straight to the head, that would definitely bruise quickly. Ryan always had to lie to the teacher and make up excuses. For example ‘I fell over.’ or ‘I got in a fight with another student.’ but Ryan knew he couldn’t keep up th at counterfeit for much longer.

Tears burned his face as his dad yelled for him to leave. He didn’t have anyone anymore. No mother, an unloving father and zero friends. The teachers that he could supposedly go and talk to didn’t even care, that's their job! They're supposed to fake sympathy even if they don't even mean it.

Ryan slammed the door and shoved his headphones in his ears. Even if he didn’t have any special people in his life, he had music. One day he dreamt of being famous. School had recently been getting worse for him; people would constantly call him gay or emo. Sure, he dressed in band shirts but he wasn’t the definition of emo. He never dated anyone, how would he even know if he was gay! His favourite band was my chemical romance, he always looked up to them. Everyday he would listen to them on the way to school. They truly changed his life, they were his source of comfort and inspiration he needed.

Ryan sucked in a deep breath as he arrived at the school gates. Almost immediately getting shouted at. When would this stop? Would it ever stop before it got too much? He just headed to his locker to prepare for English. BANG. There he was in Ryan’s eyeline, the well-known school bully. Already being bullied 3 minutes into the school day…yay. Ryan hated this, being bullied everyday just to go home to an even worse environment. He learned life isn’t always fair but can always be unfair.

He sat in English literature class, alone and bored. The students awaited the arrival of their teacher, Mrs Kay. Everyone was throwing paper aeroplanes and pencils at each other; until, Mrs Kay walked into class with an unfamiliar student. As she saw the disastrous sight of the classroom, she gave a disappointed sigh.

“Class! sit down, please welcome to our classroom a new student. His name is Brendon Urie.” He slowly made his way to the back of the classroom and sat in one of 3 empty desks next to Ryan. He tried to ignore the stinging on his wrists as a new wave of anxiety hit him. He tried to cover his fresh, beedy, scarlet cuts as best as he possibly could; hopefully no one would notice because then he’d be perfect for the bullies to target. They already did anyways, he just couldn’t have anyone see what he went through. His mental state was at an all time low. But, his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the new kid.

“Hey, as you know I’m Brendon. I thought you look pretty cool; I like your style. So, I thought I’d come sit next to you! What’s your name?” Ryan stared at him with shocked glassy eyes. No one had ever been this nice to him.

“Oh, um hi, thanks I’m Ryan Ross. I like your style too.” A smile crept upon his face. He hadn’t felt a genuine smile since his mother was still alive. Brendon shot back a true friendly smile back at him.

“I was wondering if we could have lunch together? If you have any friends I’d love to meet them!” Ryan’s smile faded away slowly. The other boy gave him a sympathetic confused look. He cleared his throat as Ryan just stared off into space.

“Shit, sorry. Yeah I’d like it if we had lunch together,” Ryan paused before continuing with the hard part. “I don’t have any friends though, the only human interaction I usually get is teachers or bullies,” He sighed and let out a small laugh. Brendon stared wide-eyed at the skinny tall boy.

They sat through the rest of the English lesson quietly, occasionally making jokes or commenting on things Mrs Kay said. Ryan kept seeing the teachers glance at his wrist, he continued to shift in his chair. RING. That was the bell for class to be over. Finally! He could get to know Brendon a bit more. But he just had to be interrupted by Mrs Kay.

“Ryan, could I have a word with you please?” Of course Ryan had to agree to it. Who was he to refuse a goddamn teacher? There certainly is no way to get out of this. He just nodded his head and walked towards her. “Ryan, I’m concerned about you. I’ve seen your wrist and I have these mental health concerns and possible ways to fix them on these documents. I need your dad to have them, is that ok?” His palms became sweaty and he tapped his fingers together.

“Is there anyone else we could give it to Mrs Kay?” Ryan anxiously asked.

“Do you have any friends that could help you?” She questioned, obviously knowing the boy’s social life.

“Actually I do,” Ryan replied as he snatched the papers out of her hands and ran to go meet Brendon in the lunch hall.

He took a deep breath before he entered the grand lunch hall. Ryan sat down next to his new friend; he quickly grabbed his lunchbox out of his bag.

“Hey, so I need to tell you something important. Then I have a huge favour I need to ask you,” He spluttered as Brendon took a bite of his sandwich. He happily replied with a simple nod. “Around 5 months ago my mother died,” Brendon looked at the boy with a flabbergasted expression upon his face. “Also, my dad beats me and he is addicted to drugs and alcohol. Obviously having all of that happen to me is quite a burden, after my mom died I fell into a deep spiral of depression…” Ryan didn’t quite realise how many tears started flowing down his face at this point. Brendon wrapped his arm around him as a source of comfort.

“It's ok Ryan, take your time,” He took a small slurp of his drink before panning his attention back to him. Ryan sucked in a deep calming breath before continuing. Words failed to come out of Ryan’s mouth, so he did the next thing he could think of. He carefully removed all the bracelets for his wrist and showed them to Brendon. “I get it Ryan, I’m here for you.” He engulfed him in a warm caring hug.

“I’m sorry, we just met. I shouldn’t have told you this, I understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore.” He got up to run away but Brendon grabbed his arm to pull him back. Ryan winced at the stinging sensation reappearing.

“Ryan. I still want to be your friend. I can tell beneath everything that you’ve put up with is a boy who just wants to feel loved again,” He stared at him with an understanding look in his eyes as Ryan slumped back down. “Anyways, what was this ‘favour’ you needed me to do?”

“Mrs Kay gave me these papers about mental health. She said I need to give them to someone because they might be able to help me with panic attacks and stopping self harm,” Ryan sniffled. Brendon took the papers out of his hands and quickly scanned over them.

“How about we go to my house later? We can get to know each other even better and we can discuss these papers,” He flashed a toothy smile at Ryan. He just replied with a simple nod.

The rest of lunch and school went a lot smoother than usual from Ryan’s perspective. Having a friend around really does make life more enjoyable. They agreed to meeting each other in the parking lot after school.

Brendon talked about himself on the walk to his house, simply so Ryan could get to know him better. They scraped their shoes along the warm concrete sidewalk as they approached the Urie’s household.

“I’m home now mom!” brendon shouted as he took a step closer to his kitchen. “I brought a friend over, hope you don’t mind,”

“Of course not honey!” Mrs Urie exclaimed whilst wiping her hands on a towel. Ryan nervously gulped before gaining the courage to speak. His eyes nervously flickered around the room, seeing quite a few religious items such as multiple bibles.

“Hi Mrs Urie, I’m Ryan, nice to meet you!” He blurted before being pulled into a motherly hug. Tears filled his eyes. He forgot what a mothers love felt like.

“Nice to meet you too Ryan, friends are always welcome here!” He only had time to reply with a small nod as he got dragged upstairs by Brendon. Before he knew it he was entering Brendon’s colourful yet very teenage room.

“So, I had a look at the papers and it’s just about frequently checking up on you. I think we can handle that,” Brendon cheerfully explained.

“Yeah, I think we can!” Ryan replied with a cheshire-cat-like grin spreading upon his face. His smile was clearly contagious as brendon has an identical one spread across his face as well.

They continued chatting together but were eventually cut off by Ryan’s phone buzzing. Seeing as it was his dad, he thought he better answer it or there would probably be consequences. “Sorry Brendon, I have to take this,” Brendon simply nodded as Ryan headed just outside his room.

“RYAN! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” His dad shouted down the line. Ryan started to anxiously pick at his nails as he thought of his response carefully.

“I’m at a friend's house, sorry.” His breathing slowly picked up as he awaited his dad’s reply.

“Just get home now, I’ll just have to punish you later!” He sighed. Ryan’s eyes pricked with tears as he slid down the wall. Teardrops soaked his jeans as he quietly sobbed. He ripped a piece of paper from his homework and wrote an explanation to Brendon.

‘Sorry. I had to leave :P’

He grabbed his bag from the hallway and left the Urie house. Thank god his house was only a couple blocks away. God only knows what his dad was about to do.

Brendon slowly creaked his door open; it’d been 10 minutes since Ryan left to take the call. Surely it can’t take that long. To Brendon’s surprise, Ryan wasn’t there at all. He frantically scrammed back into his room to flop back onto his bed. Had Ryan text him?

From Ryan:

I left a note, sorry.

His heart raced as he crept back outside and read the note. He left Ryan a few texts along the lines of ‘Don’t worry’ or ‘Where did you go?’ to say he was concerned about him was an understatement. He was extremely distressed over his new friend. What if he gets beaten again? Even though he only met him today, Ryan was his number 1 priority. The scent of food disrupted his thoughts. He went downstairs and slumped down at the dinner table.

Ryan took a deep shaky breath as his dad opened the door. “Get here you little shit.” His dad’s voice rang through his ears. The only sound Ryan could let out was a weak whimper. Before he knew it, an empty beer bottle was smashed against his head. His dad gave out a menacing chuckle, pushing him straight to the floor. “You are garbage, don’t forget it.” Ryan sluggishly walked upstairs; he felt exceedingly lightheaded. Even more than all the normal times his father beat him, he was so used to the sensation. But he could tell this was unusual. When he entered the bathroom, his vision went blurry and dark as he collapsed into a heap on the ground.

Three hours later.

It was 8:15pm, 4 whole hours since Brendon last spoke to Ryan. Brendon was casually scrolling myspace, until he noticed how alarming it was that Ryan hadn’t responded. His mind panned back to what he had told him earlier, wait, did he go home? What happened with his dad. He didn’t have any time to waste as he chucked on his shoes and yelled to his mom. “I’m going to check on a friend, is that okay?”

“Of course honey,” and with his mom’s confirmation he sped out the door. His sneakers scuffed along the damp concrete and he puffed out heavy exhausted breaths. Rain fell upon his face as he ran so hard his legs nearly gave out.

Hang on, how was he going to get in? Fuck. He should've thought of this before he sprinted here. After pondering on what he should do, he spotted a window which was cracked open. He squeezed his body into the tight gap and got into the house. He could see the staircase from where he was standing. Loud chuckles and clattering of beer bottles against tables were erupting from the room next door. So, if that was Ryan’s dad he could easily get upstairs without being caught.

Once he tiptoed upstairs, a thud sound came from behind a closed door. Surely no one else was here, right? As the cogs turned in his brain, it came to him that it was Ryan. Frantically, his hands turned the doorknob to reveal Ryan curled in a ball on the ground. Brendon examined his whole body checking for injuries; blood was streaming out of his head. He inspected the injury closer and pulled small shards of what looked like beer bottle glass out from his brown locks.

“Ryan, can you hear me?” Brendon calmly spoke as he shook the young boy. He didn’t respond. His body laid unconsciously on the freezing tiles. Small teardrops turned into loud sobs as Brendon held Ryan as if he was fragile porcelain. He picked up Ryan and retraced his previous footsteps to end up back at his house. “MOM!” Brendon let out a shaky cry out of terror.

“Brendon? What’s wrong honey?” His mother quickly rushed to the front door and gasped before being interrupted by Brendon.

“Help me to get Ryan to hospital please,” He said through his teeth whilst choking back tears.

“He’ll be okay honey, I promise. Now, go get in the car,” She quietly answered as she rushed to get her keys. Brendon buckles his seatbelt faster than ever as he props Ryan up against him. Mrs Urie didn’t say a word to him; it was clear he was very distraught about this whole situation. I mean, who wouldn't be?

Brendon wiped away his tears as they stepped into the Emergency Room. His mom rubbed his back as a source of comfort; he just hoped that Ryan would be okay. Brendon sucked in a deep breath before talking to the worker at the front desk.

“What seems to be the problem?” The worker asked in a caring tone.

“My friend has an abusive dad, he didn’t respond to my text for hours. So, I went to check up on him and found him with glass in his head and he was unconscious on his bathroom floor.” He sniffled as he awaited the response.

“Ok, your friend will be in to see a doctor in 5 minutes max,” They thanked them before sitting down. Brendon anxiously shook his knee up and down as he waited. Ryan was so precious to him. They’ve only known each other for a day, but Brendon still felt this overwhelming need to take care of him and be there for him.

After a five minute wait, the nurse asked for them. “Ryan Ross? Doctor Lockwood is ready for you.”

“I’ll wait here, good luck.” Brendon’s mom gave him a pat on the back. He carried Ryan to the doctor; then he was instructed to place him on a hospital bed. Before he could even blink, the doctors got straight to work as they stitched up his wound.

“Mister Urie,” Dr Lockwood began. “I would like to discuss Ryan’s injury with you,” Brendon sat with the doctor for 45 minutes and explained. Worry ran through his veins as he thought about Ryan. “Well, Ryan’s stitches should be finished, if you would like to go and see him!” Lockwood exclaimed whilst looking at his rusty watch.

Brendon nodded and rushed to go see his friend. “Hi Ryan, how are you holding up?” He quietly whispered.

“I’m good, what happened? I don’t remember much..” He sniffled and gave Brendon a half smile. He explained for a 3rd time what happened and after an hour Ryan got discharged.

They got back into their car and Brendon sat in the back, just in case anything happened. “Ryan,” Mrs Urie spoke up, “I don’t think you should go back to your house, at least not tonight. It really does not sound safe for you, also I’m sure Brendon wouldn’t mind a sleepover!”

“B-but my dad will be really mad if he finds out I left and I’m not there.” Tears slowly welled up in his eyes.

“Ryan, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. May I have your dad’s number? I’ll tell him you're staying at ours, then I will have to tell the police, okay?” Mrs Urie had her mind set on this, it was extremely wrong to do this to a kid. What a monster he must be. Ryan just leaned his head on Brendon’s shoulder, occasionally lifting his hand to wipe his tears away.

They silently unbuckled their seatbelts and made their way inside the house. Brendon led Ryan upstairs to the bathroom and got a spare toothbrush out for him.

“Uh Brendon, I don’t have any clothes to sleep in,” Immediately after, he went to get clothes for him. He grabbed shorts and a baggy hoodie. Ryan took the clothes from Brendon and muttered a small thanks.

“You can get changed in here, I’ll go to my room.” Giving him a little smile, he exited the room.

A few minutes later, Ryan was ready for bed. He stared confused at the floor; oh great, there’s only one bed. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor, Bren?” His heart fluttered at the thought of a nickname. Brendon blushed before clearing his throat.

“Oh no, I don’t mind you sleeping in my bed! It’s massive anyway,” He awkwardly chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. Ryan slowly crawled into bed next to Brendon. He clicked off the bedside light and snuggled down into his pillow. “Night Ry,” Ryan felt his cheeks heat up and glow red with the simple nickname. No one ever made him feel this way, what emotion even was this? He couldn’t quite figure it out; he copied Brendon’s previous movement and fell into a calm slumber.

-

The next morning, Ryan awoke with an extra warm sensation to one side of him. It seemed that Brendon had attached himself in his sleep. He wasn’t complaining, it was quite relaxing. He reached over to his phone on the oak table. His eyes squinted as the bright screen flashed violently. Brendon stirred in his sleep as Ryan took a few pictures on his phone. He could tell Brendon was waking up, his deep snoring stopped and he was constantly moving. Eventually he ended up with his head on Ryan’s chest, Brendon rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Morning Ryan, sorry for kind of sleeping on you,” He let out a content sigh and grabbed a bottle of water. Ryan stretched out his long arms and sat up.

“It’s ok, I don’t mind,” He grinned and headed to brush his teeth. Brendon quickly did the same thing, after proposing the idea of pancakes. Ryan eagerly agreed as he leaped down the stairs.

They sat together on the couch with the white noise of the television buzzing in their ears. After they had finished their pancakes, they shared memes on their phone and had a normal chat. Brendon’s mom interrupted them with an idea. “Y’know you guys could go out today!” Ryan quickly accepted the idea with a cheerful nod. Brendon exchanged glances with him as they decided upon a final decision. “There’s lovely restaurants in the town centre, I’ll give you some money boys.”

“Oh, It’s okay Mrs Urie. You don’t have to give me any money; you’ve done more than enough by letting me stay here.”

“Don’t be silly,” She chucked, “having your company is lovely, I don’t mind giving you money!” Mrs Urie smiled as she handed Ryan $50.

“Let’s go get ready then!” Brendon grinned as he excitedly ran upstairs. “I’ve got some clothes you can wear,” He shouted. Ryan flinched at the loud shouting, growing up he always hated shouting, even before his dad started to abuse him. His dad would usually have screaming wars with his mom; no matter what, it would end in his mom crying and Ryan trying his best to comfort her. He was only young, he couldn't do much about it.

Twenty minutes had passed, they were both completely ready and went out. “Mom! We’re going now,” He yelled, waiting for his mother’s response.

“Okay, remember to be safe!” Mrs Urie scrambled to grab her phone as they left. She dialled the police’s number to tell them about Ryan’s dad. Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello ma'am, what are you calling us for?” They answered; she went on to explain about his situation (In extreme detail) for almost an hour straight.

“Thanks for your report, we’ll send the police around there now and hopefully remove any harmful substances from the house.”

“Thank you so much, goodbye.” With that being said, they hung up and presumably got to work.

Brendon and Ryan were in the town centre now; they walked the streets together, hands occasionally grazing each other. They eventually entered a small restaurant tucked in the corner of a street. Two lengthy hours sharing conversation and eating lunch.

Once they had finished their meals, Brendon had called the waiter over and paid for the food.

“How about we head to the restroom quickly and then go home?” He suggested with a small smile on his face as he admired Ryan. He replied with a mini nod and smiled back at him.

Brendon was washing his hands in the marble sink as Ryan stared at him. He grabbed a few paper towels, drying his hands off. Straight after, they left the restaurant, feeling content.

“That was a really good meal!” Ryan beamed but was abruptly cut off by a man in all black + a mask attack Brendon. He was put in a headlock and had a gun put to his head; it wasn’t a busy street and the restaurant windows were tinted. No one would see.

“GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!” The man barked. Brendon whimpered as he couldn’t reach his pockets and stared at Ryan for help. He proceeded to punch the man square in the face. He couldn’t stand to watch Brendon be hurt any longer.

“Fuck off; don’t ever threaten us again.” Ryan growled as he scrammed. Brendon had tears in his eyes, frozen in shock. He engulfed him in a hug, Brendon only responded by resting his head on Ryan’s shoulder.

He rubbed his back and sighed. They stayed like that for a good minute until Ryan cupped his cheeks and wiped his glistening tears away. Their eyes were locked onto each other as they breathed deeply. Brendon slowly leaned closer and just before he could pull away; Ryan’s lips collided with Brendon’s. It was a sweet caring kiss, nothing but care and affection.

A moment was spent with Brendon longingly looking into Ryan’s hazel eyes. Suddenly, Brendon pulls back and pushes him away, a new-found rage filling his pupils.

“Ryan, boys can’t love boys,” He said as he ran away, shouting at Ryan to not follow him.

The bus was due in 3 minutes.

Brendon ran like his life depended on it; his lungs felt as if they were collapsing. His feet were on fire, he finally reached the bus stop just as it arrived. The bus hissed as the air brakes were being used. The double doors swung open as Brendon eagerly ran inside and raced to the back of the bus.

His hands traced designs on the polyester fabric of the bus seats. Thoughts raced through his mind at a 1000mph. Brendon couldn’t get Ryan out of his head. Every thought or idea was centred around him.

Shit.

He didn’t like Ryan. He couldn’t! His mum simply would disown him, she’s the most religious person he’d ever met. She would NEVER let Brendon see Ryan again. But, did Brendon actually have feelings for him?

The way his stomach gets butterflies whenever he thinks of him. The way a light dusty blush brushes his cheeks whenever they touch. The way he admired every movement Ryan made.

Fuck. He wasn’t just simply in love. He was head over heels. He had to tell someone, it had to be Ryan.

His mind wandered, taking him back to a time where his mother had a strong point of view.

~ Flashback ~

“Brendon! Pay attention, young man,” His mother disciplined as he played with his shoe laces.

“Sorry,” He muttered, turning his attention to the boring pastor. The pastor was talking about being homosexual, he didn’t appear to have a very fond opinion of it. Brendon’s mom was so brainwashed by him, she fully believed his opinion on homosexuality was right. It wasn’t; everyone should be accepted for who they are.

In the end, her views were so extreme that homosexuality is the reason they moved. She’d found out that there was quite a few homosexual kids at his school and refused to stay there.

~ End of flashback ~

Brendon had come to a realisation, he was bisexual. Even though his current love interest was a man, he had felt sexual attraction to women as well.

The bus came to a halt. He rushed out of the musty bus and raced to his house. He needed to make things right, but first he needed to know Ryan was ok.

Swinging open the door, he shouted for his mother. “MOM!” He yelled in a frightened tone.

“What is wrong? Where’s Ryan?” Brendon felt a sickening sensation form in his stomach at the small mention of the boy.

Ryan sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, tears flew down his face as he thought of Brendon. How could he just ditch him like that? He thought that Brendon was there for him after the incident with his dad. Oh, that was another thing to sob about. His shitty father. Why did he have to end up like this? Ryan reminisced on all his memories with his mother, tears increasing their quantity.

He did know one thing that would make him feel better. He knew it wasn’t the best solution, but it would put a temporary stop to his emotion. Cutting himself, that's all he could think to do. The sky had dimmed, now being a dusky grey. Ryan shuffled down the alleyway and yanked the shiny, metal blade out of his pocket. His hands roamed to pull his sleeve up. A few cuts, that's all he needed. He couldn’t seem to stop.

Ruby blood pooled around him and darkness overcame him.

“Mom, I left Ryan in the town centre. We had a slight argument,” Brendon whimpered. He curled up into a ball on the floor and weeped. “Please, go get him,” He pleaded.

Mrs Urie nodded and responded in a soothing voice, “Ok dear, you go upstairs and calm yourself down!” She exited through the front door and started up her car. Brendon dragged his body upstairs and flopped onto his comforting bed, recollection of cuddling up to Ryan washes over him.

After a while, she arrived at her destination. She glanced around the restaurant, Ryan was nowhere to be seen. Un popping her pocket, she grabbed her phone out of her pocket.

To Brendon:

Hey, is (restaurant name) where you went? I can’t s-

Her typing was cut off by her view being attached to a boy in the alleyway. Hurriedly, she scrambled over to him, her heart felt as if it was in her throat. It was Ryan.

“Ryan,” she called out, “I’ve come to get you!”

No response. Dead silence. The blood glimmered in the dull street lights.

“Oh my…” She gasped. Mrs Urie picked up Ryan in her arms and ran as fast as she could to the car.

She frantically propped his body against the leather seats. Her hands rummaged in the back of the car for her first aid kit. A green bag was quickly opened, strings of bandages were pulled out.

Slowly, stretchy bandages were wrapped around Ryan’s wrist, she applied firm pressure as it soaked up his blood. His limp body was put into a more comfortable position, buckling up their seatbelts, she started the car.

Ryan stirred in his slumber, his eyes soon adjusted to the colourful street lights.

“Mrs Urie?” He earned a small gasp out of her mouth.

Shocked and stunned, she replied, “Yes Ryan?”

“Where are you taking me?” He said with his eyebrows knitted into a confused expression.

“Just back to my house,” She said with a friendly smile on her face. She pondered for a moment, then got the courage to express her thoughts. “What happened between you and Bren?”

Several tears were appearing in his eyes, just at the simple mention of the boy. Gosh, he really was in love. It was just a shame his gay realisation had to be so tragic.

Eventually, he spoke up, “Uh, I kissed Brendon,”

“YOU WHAT!” She screeched.

“I don’t even know! It just felt right at the time…” He trailed off.

“You and Brendon are seriously in for it when we arrive at home! And do not even THINK about texting him to warn him!” She scolded. Ryan sat silently for the rest of the ride; he wished the ground beneath him would open up and swallow him whole.

They arrived and to say Ryan was horrified was an understatement. His hands were shaking and his eyes were threatening to spill tears.

“BRENDON! GET HERE NOW!” She squawked. Brendon knew that he was in for it. By the tone of her voice, reminding him of his father, Ryan grew more anxious.

Thundering steps boomed down the staircase as Brendon came rushing down. His eyes bulged out of his head; as he looked at Ryan, a panicked expression spread across his face.

“What happened Ryan?” He blurted with a soft, worried voice.

“You! You don’t care about me,” Ryan yelled, emotion loud in his voice. Brendon stared at him in shock, he felt as if a piece of his heart shattered into a billion pieces.

“Ryan, listen to me!” He pleaded, but Ryan slammed the door and ran to their bathroom. Brendon thought that Ryan hated him; little did he know, Ryan was going through the exact same thought process.

Ryan curled up in the corner of the bathroom, tears didn’t just fall, they were crashing around him. He thought back on wanting the world to swallow him up; he realised he was just suppressing his feelings. Ryan was suicidal.

He balled his fist up and shoved them inside his denim jacket pockets. Something cold pressed against his knuckles.

The blade.

Resisting wasn’t an option, he was overcome with an extreme need. A need his mind said he must fulfil.

However, he found his wrist wasn’t enough this time. He needed more. More blood. More thrill.

More pain.

This urgency for more resulted in him slitting his throat. First, only starting off with small cuts, blood rushing to the surface, but not dribbling onto his skin. The emotion had gotten so intense, he began to cut deeper. Blood rushed down his neck, ruining his shirt and occasionally dripping onto his jacket.

Ryan had started to feel light-headed. He stumbled around the bathroom; fuck, how was he meant to hide this scar. Before even taking any protocols into consideration, he began to clean up. Brendon didn’t have anything to clean cuts with. Of course he didn’t, what was Ryan thinking?

Carefully, his freezing hands pressed the paper towel against his neck. Sucking in a breath - caused by the pain - as it began to sting.

Why didn’t his attempt work? All he wanted was to be gone, he’d thought there was nothing else left for him on Earth. He might as well just die. He thought he was pathetic, that's what drove his passion for pain.

A knock came from the old, creaky door.

“Ryan,” Brendon said firmly. Ryan’s heart leapt out of his chest, he couldn’t face Brendon, at least not now. Quickly, he wiped his teardrops away and tried to steady his voice.

“Yes?” Ryan said, his voice slightly shaky from previous events.

“Come out, please…” His tone was hopeful; all he wanted was for Ryan to come out of the bathroom.

Ryan choked back his tears as he examined his neck in the mirror. “I can’t,” Ryan thought carefully about his response, but nothing was a good enough reason.

“I promise I don’t hate you…” Brendons voice trailed off before he continued. “I actually have some, uh, complicated feelings. I'd like to talk to you about it. But only if it’s alright with you!” He took a huge gulp, awaiting the other boy's reply.

No reply was made. Ryan lowered his head into his knees; he’d never been this bad. He let everything get to him, every comment, every action and most importantly everything. Some things (or people) are better off being shut out.

“I’m coming in Ryan; I can tell you're not okay,” Brendon waited for any final reponses. Finally, he turned the door knob with his hand.

He was speechless, bloody tissues and more cuts on his wrist. But, he hadn’t seen the worst of it yet. Brendon sat opposite Ryan.

He rubbed Ryan’s shoulder comfortingly. He was waiting for some form of eye contact; looking to find meaning and emotion in his eyes. Any form of communication would work, a sign even!

Ryan pricked his head up. Brendons breathing faltered as he saw his neck. Hundreds of thoughts ran through both their minds.

Suddenly, a harsh slap was delivered to Brendon from Ryan. It was all too overwhelming for him. His brain was shutting down and he wasn’t thinking straight.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” Ryan raised his voice.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE! RYAN, I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU!” Brendon felt his eyes rapidly well up.

“Well. Maybe I don’t want your help!” He said, quite a bit quieter this time.

“Clearly, you need someone's help! You can’t go a single fucking day without cutting yourself,” He muttered, Brendon was extremely pissed off by now. He had never been in a situation like this; all he yearned to do was help. Help the special person in his life.

Brendon realised that he shouldn’t have said that, he could’ve just ruined their (complicated) relationship completely. He seemed to snap out of his thoughts when Ryan was sobbing.

Brendon did that. He realised he made Ryan this sad.

“I’m so sorry Ryan, I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean it,” He apologised, Ryan meant so much to him. How could he do that to him?

“Go away,” Ryan sniffled. “I hate you,” He wept. Brendon knew he didn’t actually mean it. Even Ryan knew he didn’t mean it. Ryan had also come to the realisation that he did in fact need help.

Brendon stayed sat opposite him. He was lost for words; he had no idea what to do. He stayed silent, wishing that Ryan would say something first.

Fortunately, his wish came true. Ryan finally spoke up after what felt like an hour of silence - in reality it was less than a minute.

“Bren,” His cheeks dusted a pink shade at the pet name. “I need help,” He said and took a gulp of courage.

Brendon took Ryan’s hand in his hand. “Y’know I’d get you any help you needed,” He told him, maintaining a calm eye contact.

“All I need is you,” Ryan sighed softly; finding a sudden surge of confidence. Their eyes were like gravitational pulls towards each other; not leaving their view.

Brendon pulled Ryan into a deep, passionate kiss. Breath slightly shaky as their lips parted.

“When I left, I realised that I’m in love with you…” Brendon blurted. His cheeks burned a bright pink hue.

“I guess it’s true,” Ryan snickered, the other boy just stared, confused.

“What?” He questioned, trying to think of the answer, mind blanking.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,”

—

A/N That is the end of this oneshot! Hope you enjoyed it! Fun fact: this was based off of something I wrote in class :p

[loverontheleft]

Don’t Take Me Home (revised)

Original request: oooh maybe car sex with b? perhaps teen!Brendon and you need a place bc both of your houses are occupied so you take this long romantic drive out into the middle of nowhere and just…

Brendon x reader

Warnings: dirty talk and language, car oral and sex.

Word count: 4.9k➡️5.5k

-||-

“Brendon,” you murmur, clinging to his hand with both of yours as you leave the theater. “I don’t wanna go home.” He turns to you and meets your eyes, biting his lip. “Don’t take me home yet.” You’re practically begging now. “It’s a Thursday night, tomorrow is a teacher workday…don’t take me home.”

“But your parents…” Brendon’s hesitating, understandably so, and you squeeze his hand.

“Are at that wedding three hours away, and are staying the night. They got the sitter for Henry for the whole night.” You give him a suggestive smile. “So they won’t know when I get home. But…” and you tug him closer as you get to his car, leaning up against the side so he presses against you. “Home is also not an option. We’d never make it upstairs without the sitter noticing, and the couch is therefore obviously not a viable location for making out.”

“Hmmmm.” Brendon’s face tells you he’s seriously considering your request. “Well, I do want to make out with you.” You nod and tip your head up to kiss under his jaw. He groans and presses against you more. “I really want to make out with you,” he murmurs, his arms tightening around your waist, fingertips brushing the waistband of your skirt. “Damn, I mean…Y/n, I…fuck,” he sighs helplessly.

“What about your house?” You look up at him hopefully, and he shakes his head, pushing a hand through his hair. You can feel the frustration and regret rolling off of him. “Oh wait, your parents are having that dinner party, aren’t they?” He nods, eyes shut. His cock is stirring against you, and you rock your hips, seeking more. You love the pressure, and he leans against you more firmly. “We should at least get in the car,” you tell him, lips moving over his neck again.

“You’re right…get in the car, Angel,” he tells you, moving his hands down your back and over your curves. “Get in the car, please.” He shifts you slightly so he can open your door. “God, get in the car so I can kiss you, darlin.” You slip under his arm and settle into the seat while he crosses around the front of the car and yanks open his door. “Come here.” He beckons you urgently and you clamber over the center console to settle in his lap, your skirt spreading, as he reaches down between his legs and slides his seat back.

“Hi, B,” you giggle, cupping his cheek. He turns his head slightly to kiss your palm before brushing a finger down your jawline to curl under your chin and draw you close. At his touch, you weaken. At his kiss, you melt into him. You can feel his groan rumble through his chest as your tongue teases his; he clutches you closer and you rock against him as he murmurs how much he loves you.

“I love you too,” you tell him. “I love you so much.”

“So much. Let me keep kissing you,” he begs, snaking an arm around your waist and rubbing back against you, matching your movements. He’s urgent now, thrusting up, pressing his cock right where you want him, and the friction against your underwear is incredible; it’s driving you closer and closer to the edge, and you know he’s got to be just as desperate as you are. “I gotta—Angel, please.” The petname sends a thrill through you. You nod, telling him yes, and he freezes. “Yes?” He doesn’t want to sound too hopeful, but you can feel his body tensing under yours.

“Yes,” you repeat. “I want you too. Fuck, I need to come too.” At his stunned silence, you pause and look at him carefully. “Shit. That isn’t what you meant; oh god, Bren—I’m—” and you cover your face with your hands, blushing deeply. The two of you have only been sleeping together for a few months now, and you’re obsessed with the way he can get you worked up with just a single look or touch. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about sex with him all the time.

“Hush, Y/n,” he says softly, kindly, moving your hands and crushing your mouths back together. When you part for air, he stares at you longingly. “That is what I meant—but we can’t—not here.”

You glance around, confused, and he clarifies. “I mean. It’ll have to be here in my car I think…I mean, if you don’t object…we don’t have a lot of options,” and he grins ruefully, nuzzling your nose with his. “…but not here. Not in the movie theater parking lot. We need to go…somewhere else.”

“So take me somewhere else,” you whisper, nuzzling his jawline. “Take me somewhere we can be alone.” He nods and kisses down your neck, hands squeezing your hips and tugging you down against the bulge in his jeans for a brief moment before urging you back into your seat.

“We might be driving for a bit,” Brendon warns you, his hand moving up your skirt and over your thigh. “But I’ll try to be quick.”

“We’ve got nothing but time. Just get me somewhere we can be alone safely,” you tell him, resting your head on his shoulder and shifting slightly so his hand slips between your thighs. He groans and nods, fingers flexing gently. “Need you,” you murmur, resting your hand over his. “Bren, I need you so badly.”

The drive is agony, and you’re both silent; his eyes are fixated on the road while yours are on his face. His thumb is rubbing soft circles over your inner thigh, and you’re subconsciously spreading your legs so he can move his hand higher. You’re both tense, and you know as soon as he parks the car, you’re going to be on top of him. It isn’t long before he pulls off the road and kills the headlights; as he does, you’re unbuckling and scrambling into his lap. “My sweet girl,” he says softly, caressing your cheek. “I love you, you know that—right?” He looks at you seriously, and you nod, nuzzling his palm. “Good,” he whispers. And with that, he leans in to kiss you softly as your hands move to his jeans. Quickly, you unbutton and unzip them so you can reach inside and wrap a hand around his erection. “Fuck,” he groans, letting his head drop back on the headrest. “Your hand, baby; your hand is so good.”

You stroke him firmly and he grunts, hips bucking up to your grasp. “If you think my hand is good, wait til you see what else I have in mind,” you tell him, and he laughs a little desperately, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you in place while he leans to rummage through the glovebox. When he produces a foil packet, you take it eagerly and rip it open, meeting his eyes as you roll it over his hard length. “Need you,” you murmur, rising up above him slightly so you can guide him into you.

“Fuck, Angel,” Brendon groans, fingers flexing against your hips as you sink down and settle into his lap. “You’re my fucking angel; I love you so much.”

“I love you,” you tell him, resting your forehead against his. “I love you too; fuck, you feel so good in me.” You gasp when he moves against you, lips finding yours. “Oh god,” you whisper, clutching his shoulders. “Brendon, I can’t—I can’t like this—” you’re at a loss for words, your thighs burning and back starting to hurt. You look at him helplessly, frustration and discomfort evident.

“It’s okay, we can stop,” he tells you, and you protest, whining and shifting so you’re resting against the steering wheel, telling him to fuck you like this.

“Yeah?” Brendon watches you carefully, staring at your face as you work yourself down against his cock. “Is this okay? Is this better?” You nod, and he leans over to kiss your neck. “My dirty Angel, begging me to fuck her in my car; she’s such a bad girl, but just for me, isn’t she? She’s my bad girl, my best girl. Love her so much.” He’s whispering this against your skin as he nibbles along your neck and collarbone. “My girl gonna come for me?”

“Yeah,” you moan, back arching off of the wheel as you press yourself against him. You’re both fully clothed, with his jeans down just enough and your skirt bunched around your waist. “Yeah, I’m gonna—”

“Be my sweet girl and come for me,” Brendon pleads, hips moving faster now. You close your eyes and nod, clinging to him. “Baby, you gotta—I can’t hold—you feel too good,” he murmurs. “You gotta come first, oh fu—yes, fuck!” His voice drops into a guttural moan as you clench around him, coming hard. “Yes, Y/n, come for me,” he encourages, panting and thrusting urgently.

“Fuck! Brendon, yes, yes, yes!” Your eyes are wide, and you’re moving against him eagerly. “Your…fuck,” you manage. “Your turn.” He bites your shoulder and you feel him pulse with his orgasm, the heat—even with the condom—spreading through you. “Oh god yes, Brendon, yes!” He’s gasping your name as you tug at his hair, both of you moving gracelessly, frantically against each other. “Holy fuck,” you whisper when your pulse evens out. “That was…”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pushing his hair out of his eyes as you can launch yourself forward and kiss him hard. “I love you,” he repeats, your lips moving together tenderly. “I love you so much.”

-||-

“Brendon!” You squeal with laughter as he lifts you off your feet and tosses you over his shoulder outside the bar where he’s just finished a small acoustic set. The rest of his bandmates laugh and turn away, giving you some privacy. “Urie, you’re drunk,” you declare, beating your fists against his back gently. “And I’m drunk. Put me down.” Obligingly, he places you back on your feet and looks at you.

“Are you actually drunk?” Brendon’s examining your face closely. “You know my rule, Y/n.” He wags his finger at you playfully. “No sex if you’re inebriated.”

“Well now I know you’re not drunk,” you shoot back teasingly. “Getting ‘inebriated’ right on the first try.” He laughs and pulls you close, burying his face in your neck, murmuring that he’s high on you, but not drunk. “I’m not either,” you promise, scratching at his back idly. “Definitely tipsy and in love, but not drunk.”

“Yeah? You wanna hang out for a bit more, sober up, then get out of here?” He looks at you suggestively and you nod, wrapping your arms around his waist. “My place is off limits; Shane is hosting game night,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Hannah is doing some Mary Kay party,” you say with frustration evident. “So it sounds like both of our places are off the table.” You’re both visibly frustrated by this, until you see an idea register on his face. “What?” You look at him suspiciously. “You’ve got your thinking face on…”

“Mmmm,” he agrees, kissing your jawline. “Thinking about senior year, when we fucked in my car after the movies.” You blush, and he gives you a teasing look. “You remember, don’t you, Angel? You begged,” and he stresses the word ‘begged’ with relish, “me not to take you home yet. You were desperate for me.”

“I always am,” you murmur, tipping your head back to give his lips more space to roam. “Don’t you know your girl is addicted to you?” He grins, grabbing your hips and pulling you flush against him. “Shit, you can’t do that,” you warn him. “Feeling you start to get hard like this gets me all worked up, you know that.” He mumbles that he does know that and he likes it. “Tease.” You give him a playful shove, and he bites at your neck in response. “Fuck,” you groan. “You gotta stop, Bren. You’re making me want you more and more, and now I know I can’t have you. We don’t have any place to go.”

He pulls back and gives you a curious look. “Angelbaby, didn’t you hear me say that I was remembering senior year?” You nod, and he grins when he realizes that you clearly aren’t getting it. “We’ve got my car,” he tells you. Your eyes widen. “Yeah. Exactly. We’ve got my car. Give me twenty minutes and a bottle of water, and I’ll be good to get us out of here and somewhere we can be alone.”

After he’s sober enough for both of your liking, he loops an arm around your waist and pulls you close, leading you back out into the parking lot. “Take me somewhere we can be alone,” you tell him, running a finger down his chest. “Want to be someplace private with my man.” He nods and opens your door for you, closing it after you. He settles in the car and inhales sharply when your hand rests over his erection. Without commenting, he puts the car in drive and leaves the parking lot, fingers wrapped tightly around the wheel. “You doing okay there, Urie?” You tease, squeezing lightly. He nods, giving you a quick glance.

“I’m doing great. Thinking about eating out my girlfriend in the backseat of this car, getting her hot cunt all over my face. You?”

“Fuck,” you mumble, letting your head roll back as your fingers trail over his erection. “That wasn’t what I was thinking, but it sure is now.” He grins, telling you to keep thinking about it. “I will,” you promise. “The way you kiss my inner thighs and along my pussy, letting your tongue tease me…” you close your eyes. “Damn…want you between my legs, baby.”

“I want to be there,” he reassures you. “Want to taste my sweet girl as she rubs against my face. Wanna make her come with my fingers and my tongue. Wanna lick her clit and make her squeal, wanna see her lose control from my mouth. Wanna watch her from between her pretty thighs, wanna hold her hips and kiss her all over…”

“Brendon,” you moan, wriggling in your seat. “Need you. Hurry.” He nods and, scanning the road once more, pulls off into a deserted clearing. “This isn’t sketchy at all,” you remark as you climb into the backseat. He laughs as he follows you.

“Do you want me to go back to driving so we can keep loo—oh god.” He cuts himself off when you slide your jeans down your thighs, leaving you in his favorite pink lace underwear. “If you don’t mind, I’m not driving anymore,” he tells you, kneeling between your legs on the backseat.

“You look horribly uncomfortable,” you remark, watching him try to bend down far enough to taste you. “We can reevaluate positions if you need.”

“Yeah,” he groans, rolling his neck. “I love eating you out and that position was going to ruin it. I’m just gonna—” and he slips off the seat so he’s kneeling in the foot space, back against the back of the passenger seat. “Now if you’ll scoot down and—” he beckons you and as you move, he reaches up and spreads your legs while coaxing you forward. “Is this comfortable?” He pushes one of your knees up so it’s parallel to the back of the seat.

“Yeah, I’m fantastic. You?”

“Definitely better. It’s a tight fit, but I’d put up with far worse circumstances to get my tongue in your perfect pussy, Angel.” He grins at you and rubs his thumb over the dark center of your panties. “Right through…damn…” Brendon sighs, and you watch his eyes dilate in pleasure at the mere thought of tasting you. “So wet, Y/n…”

“I am,” you agree in a low voice. “You should do something about it. It is your fault after all.” You grin at him and he laughs appreciatively, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses to your thigh as he shifts higher onto his knees to get closer and work your underwear down your legs. “This is an interesting change, you being on your knees for me.”

“You make it sound like I don’t—” Brendon starts to protest, clearly insulted at the idea of him not loving to eat you out, and you shake your head quickly.

“No, no—I just mean this position. You’re very generous with your mouth, baby, and I love it—and you. But we’re usually in bed or I’m on top of you. You’re not normally literally on your knees. That’s all.” You tug his hair affectionately and roll your hips towards his mouth.

“That’s better,” he comments with a grin. “Didn’t think you were taking my mouth for granted or anything…but I’d hold out on you if I needed to prove a point.”

You pout, and he laughs. “We both know I wouldn’t last long.” He gives you a teasing lick, letting the tip of his tongue move in a quick circle over your clit. You gasp and your back arches; you tug at his hair and he makes a soft sound of approval, switching to deep, slow strokes while his fingers slide into your heat.

“Oh fuck, don’t stop,” you groan, rocking under him. “Brendon, baby, so good; lick it honey, just—oh god, so fucking good!” His fingers curl while his thumb rubs; his eyes meet yours as he mouths over you, tongue rolling repeatedly against your clit. “Oooooh shit!” The squeal is practically ripped from your body and your eyes snap open wide. “Brendon, yes! Yes yes yes!!” The leg that is parallel to the seat back drops and pins his head between your thighs; he groans, pressing closer and keeping his fingers moving. “Oh god!” Your voice is high and tight, and you’re rocking eagerly against his mouth, holding him in place with your grip in his hair and the pressure of your thighs. “Making me come, oh fuck!”

“Come for me, Angel,” he begs in a muffled voice that sends you over the edge, shrieking and moaning and swearing. “That’s my good girl,” Brendon murmurs when your hips stop moving and your legs part, freeing him. He starts licking your inner thighs idly, watching you with dark eyes. “My Angel knows how much I love her coming on my face. Love tasting you, licking you, sucking you…my best girl.” He places a soft kiss against your hip before crawling up on top of you, propping himself up on his forearms over you.

“Kiss me,” you say softly, craning your neck to reach his mouth. “Need you.” You throw an arm around his back and press him to you; he grunts as his full body weight comes down on you and your legs tighten around his hips. “Any chance of you whipping that cock out and fucking me while we’re back here?”

“You did not just use the phrase ‘whipping that cock out,’ did you?” Brendon looks at you in amusement, body shaking with suppressed laughter. “I cannot take you seriously with those words coming from your perfect mouth.” You blush, and he laughs, catching your lips again. “I will fuck you, but only if you promise to never ask that way again.”

“That’s a more than fair deal,” you agree, before zipping your lips shut. “I got a little carried away, sorry. I was going for ‘desperate,’ but in hindsight, not my most sexy phrasing.” He laughs again and kisses you hard, one hand cupping your face while the other works between your bodies to unzip his jeans. When, together, you’ve worked his jeans down his legs, he grips your thigh and rocks into you slowly. “Oh god,” you moan, closing your eyes. “That feels so good.”

“Yeah,” Brendon groans, face buried in the crook of your neck. “Oh god, yeah. Angel, you feel so fucking good…” He’s moving at a painfully slow pace, and you squirm under him, trying to get more. “Patience,” he chides, lifting your leg higher on his waist so he can fill you. “I’m gonna take care of you, Y/n. You know I’m going to take care of you and make it so good for my girl.”

“Yeah,” you manage, both hands clawing at his back through his shirt. “Yeah, feels so good; Brendon, my god, yes!” His mouth is moving over your neck and the way he’s holding you, keeping your hips tipped up so he can go deep, is sending you closer and closer to the edge with each thrust. “Brendon, baby, you’re gonna make me—oh god, please don’t stop, please, please, please!”

“Yes, Y/n, oh god, your pussy feels so—you feel so—oh fuck, Y/n, I’m gonna come,” Brendon groans, picking up speed and biting desperately at your neck. “Can I come, Angel? Can I come in you?”

“Fuck, please!” You scratch at him desperately, the pleasure you’re feeling evident in every breath and word and movement. You two have only recently made the choice to stop using condoms, and you’re still enthralled every time he asks to come inside you. You can’t get enough of him. “Come, Brendon, come for me. Come in me.” You feel his body shudder against yours; it pushes you over the edge. You let yourself tense around him as your back arches. He groans, and you whimper when he comes. “Yes,” you moan, clinging to him. “Oh fuck, yes!”

“Angelbaby,” Brendon murmurs, breathing hard. “My sweet girl, my good girl, my perfect girl looks so good coming on me…” he’s stroking your hair now, lips pressed to your forehead.

“Brendon,” you whisper, tipping your head back to kiss him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he replies, twisting a lock of hair around his index finger. “I love you so much. Goddamn, I want to marry you.”

You freeze and look at him with wide eyes. “You don’t mean that.” Your voice is soft, and he raises an eyebrow in amusement, though you can see the nervousness reflected in his own eyes. You pause. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes,” Brendon tells you without hesitation, his voice steady. “Yes, I mean it. I—but this isn’t me asking—I’ll do it better, my love; I’ll make it so romantic and special for you, and I’ll—dammit, I’ll have a ring too. Fuck, I’ve ruined everything by saying something now—ah, shit Y/n, I’m so sorry; you deserve—”

“Yes,” you murmur, kissing him. “Yes. Yes, Brendon. Yes.” His face lights up, and he takes you in his arms, peppering your face in soft kisses, laughing when you squeal in pleasure. “Yes, I will marry you!”

-||-

“Y/n Y/m/n Urie, your husband needs you!” Brendon’s voice rings through your bedroom, and you shake your head with a laugh, heading for his closet. “Hi, Angel,” he purrs, opening his arms for you to step into his embrace. “You look gorgeous. Love this dress on you. Will you pick out a jacket for me?”

You both look at the pile of clothes on the floor. “B,” you say with a smile. “You are thirty-four years old and what’s more, you manage to pick out clothes for and dress our children every day. You can’t pick out your own jacket?”

“I just want to look good,” he grumbles playfully, swinging your entangled hands back and forth. “Throwing my Angel a birthday party tonight, and I just want to look good enough to be on her arm.”

“You’re sweet, Brendon,” you murmur, hugging him. “You know you’ll look good in anything.” He looks at you expectantly and you smile, bending down and selecting a black jacket with metallic detailing. “This one. This will look good with my dress.”

“I hope you know I don’t mean to make it about me,” Brendon murmurs in your ear as he slips his arms into the jacket. “I just—” but you silence him with a kiss.

“It’s all good, B,” you assure him, kissing his neck and pushing him back against the wall of the closet. He groans and rolls his head back, letting you step closer so you can keep working your lips up his neck and behind his ear. “Want you to be comfortable. Want the photos to look good—know we’re gonna be taking photos, so…” you nip behind his ear and let your hand slide down between his legs; you grin when he grunts and rocks forward into your palm.

“Angel, don’t tease me right now,” Brendon pleads, wrapping an arm around your waist and rubbing himself against your hand. “You know I want you.”

“And I want you,” you retort playfully, flexing your fingers. “You want me to drop to my knees and take care of you the way we both want?”

“That,” Brendon manages in a strained voice, “sounds more like a birthday present for me. Today is your birthday.”

“True,” you murmur, nibbling at his earlobe. “But neither of us have ever needed a birthday in order to get the other on their knees.” Brendon laughs appreciatively, and you think you may have won and are moments away from talking your husband out of his pants, but instead, his hand comes up and tangles in your hair.

“We can’t be late, Angel,” Brendon whispers, and you can hear the regret in his voice. Instead of pushing him, you slip out of his grasp and coax him to the door, curling a finger as you linger in the doorway. Without hesitation, he follows you, all the way out to the driveway.

“Does it ever amaze you that we’ve been wanting each other for seventeen years?” You look at him with a sweet smile once you’re both settled in the car. “We started dating the night before my seventeenth birthday. And here we are now.” You rest your hand on his thigh, squeezing lightly.

“Here we are now,” Brendon agrees, moving your hand higher. “Married with two beautiful children; meanwhile you don’t look a day over twenty-two.” You laugh and thank him for making you old enough to drink; when he kisses you, you palm his dick through his pants gently, rolling your hand to hold him in place while still driving him wild. He wraps a hand around your wrist to keep your hand against him. “God, you get me so hard,” Brendon groans after a minute, and you flex your fingers. “Fuck, Y/n, teasing me so good…”

“Me? Tease? Never. But my husband is so hard for me…really I’m just teasing myself…” you moan and squeeze his erection. “Seventeen years with you and fucking you, and I’m still insatiable.”

“Like I mind,” Brendon says, watching you through heavy eyes. “Wanna fuck my Angel good for her birthday…” you both glance ahead of you, gauging the distance to the venue and then at the digital display clock. “I think we have time,” he tells you. “I’m gonna pull over now.” Brendon guides the car off the main road, into a shopping center and parks behind one of the stores, positioning the car behind a loading dock.

You smirk at him and open your door so you can crawl into the backseat. “You’re bad, Urie,” you tell him.

“You love it,” he shoots back, following you. “Now, I want that dress up, the panties down, and you should brace yourself against the window.” You obey and put a hand flat against the window, raising your hips in offering to him. “That’s my good girl,” Brendon murmurs as he rocks into you from behind. “Seventeen years together, so she knows exactly how she likes me to fuck her. Such a good girl, my Angel. But she’s my dirty girl too, isn’t she? Look at her, on her knees in the back of this car, showing me her wet pussy, spreading herself with two fingers, showing me exactly where she wants my cock. Yes, honey, yes, you know I’m gonna give you my cock,” Brendon groans as he starts moving slowly.

“Brendon!” You yelp his name, and he spanks you gently. You give a small squeal of pleasure at the contact and push back for more; he obliges and moves faster, moaning your name as he works. Carefully, you move your other hand to the window so you can fully brace yourself against the glass. You spread your knees slightly so you’re more stable on the cushion of the backseat; Brendon shifts with you and just the feeling of his hands on your hips as he thrusts into you hard is overwhelming your senses. “Yes, Brendon, yes!” Your voice breaks with pleasure and he moans, kissing your neck and digging his fingers into your hips.

“My - Angel - gets - fucked - good - for - her - birth - day,” he pants, filling you fast and hard with one hand moving to rub your clit while the other wraps your hair around his fist, tugging gently and making you moan louder than you have yet. “That’s right,” he murmurs in your ear. “Let me hear how much you love getting fucked in our car like we’re still horny teenagers. Desperate for each other, can’t keep our hands off each other; just want to fuck you til we both collapse—you like that, Angel? You gonna come on your husband’s hard cock?”

“Brendon! Love it, love you, love your cock, oh fuck fuck fuck! Brendon, make me come!” You’re gasping and moaning and bucking back against him, head tipped back so he can hear you clearly. “Fuck me, make me come!”

“My Angel wants to come all over my cock?”

“Please!” You’re whimpering now and he bites your neck lightly, making you squeal and tighten around him as he thrusts hard.

“Good girl, begging for it. Come,” Brendon tells you, doubling his pace before bending over you and resting his hand on the window to keep himself upright. “Oh fuck, Y/n, I’m gonna come, gonna make me come!”

“Ooooh shit!” Your words come out high and loud, and you push back onto him as you come. “Oh fuck shit Brendon yes fuck fuck fuck!”

“Angel, fu—” Brendon just manages his pet name for you before his body tenses over you and you feel him come, fast and hot. “Yes, fuck yes…”

Both of you are breathing hard and trying to steady yourselves when he pulls back and out of you. “Fuck,” you say with a breathless laugh as you turn around and curl into him. “The car has changed, but we have not.” He laughs too, dropping a hand down to fix your hair. “Do we have napkins or anything? We have to go be polite and civilized and appropriate at this party, don’t we? And I’m fucking soaked and have your cum dripping out of me. God.”

Brendon groans, settling into the seat beside you and running a hand through his own hair before he guides his pants back up into place. “Fuck, you’re so damn sexy. I think there’s a pack of tissues in the glove compartment. I’ll check.” Leaning forward now, Brendon rummages through the glove box and center console, finally producing a few napkins. “Here we are. But I’ll be honest, the thought of you wet and dripping with us all night is not a bad one,” he says with a laugh. “Just think about it; the two of us slow-dancing, my hand pressed to the small of your back, mouth dipping down to your ear to ask if you’re still wet for me. We both know you will be.” You whine and swipe between your legs before tugging your panties up into place.

“You’re being a tease,” you tell him, pushing your dress down before resting your head on his shoulder.

“Maybe a bit. Should I be sorry?”

“No, probably not.” you smile up at him, snuggling into his chest as he drapes an arm around you. “We broke tradition,” you point out, tracing hearts on his pant leg. He gives you a curious look, and you smirk. “We always fucked in the car after whatever we were at because we couldn’t or didn’t want to go home.”

“Oh no,” Brendon says in mock horror, grinning a little. He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text and when he catches your inquisitive look, he laughs. “I just asked Steph to stay later with the kids.” You raise an eyebrow, and Brendon squeezes your thigh affectionately. “I asked because it sounds like I’ll have to fuck my perfect wife in the car again before we get home to our beautiful children. My life is so hard, clearly.” He gives you a faux-longsuffering expression, making you laugh.

“Mmmm, your life is hard,” you agree, kissing his cheek and palming him through his pants. “Just make sure that when we leave this party, your cock is too.”

[rookieoneil]

Rising Star

Chapter 8

Preview

Jackson went back to LA, and Lucy had to admit that she was beginning to miss him. She’d been spending this week, mostly by herself. Per Angela and Nyla’s request, they wanted to cool down public appearances, not wanting to do too much. So Lucy had hardly seen Tim since the impromptu photoshoot with Jackson.

In his absence, she went to rehearsal, did some yoga, and for the first time since she lived in Los Angeles, she added a photo to her house. Jackson had sent her a very rough photo of her and Tim laugh mid shot. She couldn’t help but put it up, it was a good memory.

He had breakfast delivered this morning and told her to be ready by five for Aaron’s party. Aaron Thorsen was a well-known socialite and a friend of Tim. Lucy was excited, she never really went to big star-studded parties, so she was excited to see what the fuss was about.

[thebongwaterbimbo]

Sometimes Throam need to be bracketed by cigarettes…

[superbeth18]

I wish Uri don't see this

[l0verswhilewesleep]

Quick throam chart for fun lmk what y’all would change😭