#brendon urie x reader imagine
A/N: to be completely honest, I wrote this one for myself after fantasizing a little too much during closing shift at work one night, but I feel bad that I haven’t posted on here in so long, I guess I’ll give you lovelies some smut too ;)
Working at the Mini Mart wasn’t half that bad of a gig. You got paid above a minimum wage and picked up shifts between taking courses at the community college. Between groceries and rent, you still had a little bit to spoil yourself with, and you got benefits like dental and vision. Again, not half that bad. But the other half, the part that was bad, was the people. Not only did you get bitchy moms and irritated elderly folk, but creepy old men who loved to toy with you. They would make disgusting comments or lean in for an undesired kiss, hit on you and ask you on a date, even sometimes inquire your manager about your relationship status. Once in a while a halfway decent guy your age would come in, and you’d twirl your hair around and bat your eyelashes to have a little fun, and it would end in a hook up or a night out for dinner, but that was all. People always came and went, in one door and out the other, just customers, just business. You never remembered many faces, they all seemed to look the same after several months passed, even the regulars were simple nods and waves. But the day he came in, oh god, you would never forget it.
Tuesday shift, late evening, the time when most came in to buy either booze or cigarettes. As your manager called it, nine p.m. was the addiction hour, and he wasn’t half that wrong. A couple lonely people coming in for a DVD rental and a bucket of ice cream, others snagging a twenty-four pack of beer or some smokes. Young couples, old veterans, middle aged burn outs, some teenagers on a snack run… You were wiping down the belts with some cleaner spray when you looked up and saw him coming down the aisle and your face flushed. Messy but fluffy dark hair, plump lips, slight stubble, leather jacket and ripped jeans, ring adorned fingers carrying a sizable bag of chips, a case of beer, and a small bottle of painkillers. “You open?” he raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side to get a better look.
Still flustered, you falter before nodding eagerly. “Uh y-yeah, of course!” you quickly slip your spray bottle and box of paper towels under your stand, wiping your palms on your apron, looking up as he approaches and places his items on the moving belt. He’s quite attractive, you can’t help but blush even harder. “Find everything okay?”
“Sure,” he simpers, glancing up at you and widening his smile. “All the essentials, right?”
“Of course,” you give a small bit of laughter, placing his chips and painkillers in a bag, then looking up at him. “Total comes to eighteen dollars and twenty-six cents.”
“Oh, and can I get a couple cigars?” he wonders and you gaze up at him, thinking hell, you’d give him anything he wanted.
“Definitely,” you turn back to the display case full of selections and produce the small key from your pocket, opening up the glass door and waiting for his selection.
“Those ones are good,” he agrees before you take out a couple and relock the case, ringing them up and then handing them to him, watching from the corner of your eye as he swipes his card in the machine. You want to so badly ask him something, try to carry on the conversation, but it’s so hard to when there’s nothing to go off of. As much as you hate to admit it, he’s supposed to be just another customer to you.
“Have a great day,” you force a pained smile upon your face knowing you’ll probably never see him again as you hand him his receipt and his bag, those ring adorned fingers taking it from you gratefully. You quickly make note of the way he doesn’t sport a wedding band.
“You too, darling,” he shoots you a wink and you think you might as well just die right then and there.
He’s turning on his heels and headed towards the door when guilt pangs at your side and you can’t help but muster a finagled cry. “Wait!” you call out for him and he turns around, confused and attentive, panic seizing your entire being. What the fuck were you doing? Think quick! You sputter out the first thing that comes to mind. “Have you heard about our rewards program?”
“Hmm?” he stops and looks at you, case of beer and purchases still in hand, unsure of where this prolonged interaction was leading.
“The store, we’re offering these new rewards programs, you sign up and you get a card and some points…” the more you ramble on the more awkward you realize it’s getting. “I just, I don’t know, I thought you might be interested before you left. Probably should’ve mentioned it before you paid for your things, I just didn’t…” You stop rambling as he walks closer, placing his items on the counter, smirking.
“Rewards program?” he asks.
“Yeah, yeah,” you look down, now embarrassed. “I don’t know, we’re required to ask but I forgot and I thought-”
“No, go on, I’m interested,” he seems to pierce your gaze with those dark brown eyes.
“So, you call this number on the back of the card and give them your information,” you begin the spiel you’ve been trained, kicking yourself in the ass all the while for realizing how stupid of an attempt you were making wasting this poor attractive man’s time.
“Y/n,” his eyes flicker down to your name tag and he stifles a chuckle. “If it’s not too rude to be honest here, this really isn’t about the rewards program is it?”
“Well,” you try to catch yourself, halfway realizing just how much of a dumbass you really are. You don’t even know his name and you’re already at his heels trying to catch whatever he’ll throw at you.
“Don’t think I didn’t catch your interest,” he purses his lips, amused. “I noticed the blush on your cheeks and the stutter in your greeting.” He smiles, not nervous in the slightest. He’s confident and cocky. You like it. “You’re fond of me, aren’t you?”
“I guess,” you admit shyly, still embarrassed. “I mean, I just thought you’re quite handsome, that’s all. Had me a little flustered there.”
“You aren’t too bad yourself, darling,” he praises. “What time you off tonight? If it’s not too late, and it’s alright with you, I’d be more than happy to buy you a drink.”
“Yeah?” you seem surprised.
“Of course,” he insists. “Pretty little lady like you working late shift? I’m sure you could use a drink or two once you get off.”
“I’m here until eleven,” you offer. “I can give you my number?”
“Sounds good,” he smiles.
Still in a daze, you reach for a scrap of receipt paper and scrawl down your digits, handing it to him and telling him you’ll see him in a few. Your eyes are still glued on him as he walks out the door and the next customer approaches, wondering how the hell your feeble attempt at scoring a date with the most handsome stranger you’ve ever seen in your life went so goddamn well.
The rest of your shift you’re glancing at the clock counting the hours and minutes until you get to rush home and change into a cute little outfit and meet that man once again. “Brendon. By the way,” is what the text reads from the unknown number on your cell phone. You’re off your shift and making you way to your car when you see it. “If you’re still up for it, corner pub downtown or crash at my place? Your call.”
“Is your place too soon?” you dare to ask but he quickly argues.
“No such thing as too soon or too much when it comes to me, sweetheart,” he quips. The way he calls you nicknames makes you practically swoon.
You throw on a sweater and some leggings, restyle your hair, and touch up your makeup before heading out the door, restless until you see his face again. Brendon is the name had given you. You can’t stop thinking about his eyes, or his lips, or the way he calls you darling. You barely even know him and you’re practically obsessed. It’s probably unhealthy. Definitely unhealthy. You can’t help it.
“Look who pulled through,” his lips spread into a smile when he sees you at his door, loose shirt and ripped jeans, beer in hand. “Make yourself at home, love.”
“Thanks,” you feel your heart flutter in your chest already as you enter.
He grabs a beer from the fridge and hands it to you as you sit down on the couch, noting the art that adorns the walls and the several guitars propped up against the sofas and tables. There’s a couple notebooks scattered about alongside empty beer bottles and cigarette stubs. “I have whiskey if you’re into harder liquor,” he offers as he takes a seat beside you, eyes flittering up and down, drinking you in. “Or we can save that for later if you’d like.”
“Either way,” you shrug, still in a daze at his appearance. He would’ve fooled you if he wasn’t a model of some sort.
“I’m surprised at your brazenness,” he admits. “First time a girl has ever tried to win my interest. Usually the other way around.”
“So you weren’t intrigued by me?” you tease, taking a sip of your beer to hide the possible disappointment, glancing at him for an answer.
“Oh honey, I would be a liar to say you didn’t catch my eye,” he insists. “Just didn’t wish to disrespect or be a bother, you being at work and all.”
“You could bother me anytime,” you find yourself confessing aloud, a bit shocked at yourself for admitting it to him. You take a couple more swigs. “God, if we’re being honest, I’d probably beg you to bother me.”
“Really now?” he pursues. “You like to beg? Because I love a girl who will beg for me.” He chuckles and looks at you for a vibe check, wondering how you’d take his teasing, and you find yourself involuntarily biting your lip. You don’t even need alcohol to loosen up around him. Just one look and you’ve practically come undone.
“To tell the truth,” you find yourself turning bright red at the revelation. “I’d probably do anything for you.”
“You’ve just met me, darling,” he caresses your face, fingers tilting your chin up to look at him, and you think you might just melt. Your heart is racing as he sets his bottle down on the coffee table and leans in towards you. “I’m practically a stranger.”
“You’re just so fucking charming though,” you can’t help but whimper. “I can’t help it.”
“Weak already?” he smirks and you feel your insides turn to mush and his lips are barely brushing against yours. “You almost make it too easy.”
“Well,” you find yourself chuckling, eyes flickering up to meet his. “Would hate to make anything hard on you now, wouldn’t I?”
He kisses you and pushes you back into the sofa, causing you to drop your bottle of beer onto the carpet but you couldn’t care less at this point. He’s all you want and more. You’re against the cushions and he’s on top of you, his lean frame parallel to yours, lips soft and warm, hands finding their way to yours, interlocking fingers as his tongue finds his way into your mouth. He tastes oddly sweet, something you wouldn’t expect from a man, but you love it all the same. His hands trail down to your breasts and squeeze them softly, your fingers getting lost in his hair, and his mouth is on your neck. You’re giving breathy moans as he sucks on your skin, grazing it with his teeth, one of his hands working further down to cup your ass and then grab it tight. You want nothing more than for him to be inside of you.
“You’re so goddamn perfect baby,” he groans, moving both his hands down to squeeze your ass, and you let out a soft moan of his name.
“Fuck me, god please just fuck me,” you whine. “That’s all I want, Brendon, please.”
“I can make that happen,” he purrs into your ear, tugging down at your leggings and helping your work them off of your ankles. While you work on untangling them off of you he’s stripping off his shirt, tossing it to the ground, and you stare at his perfect build in awe. You’re so distracted you almost don’t anticipate for when his hand presses in between your legs, and you can’t help it, you’re tossing your head back in surprise, pleading for more. It’s like this man has owned you his entire life and all you’ve ever wanted is him to touch you in that perfect place. He’s a drug. You can’t get enough.
His fingers run up and down your folds, proving just how wet you already are for him, before he inserts a finger, pumping in and out slowly before adding a second, curling deep inside you and rocking in and out, making you bury your head into the crook of his neck. “Feels so good, fuck,” you shudder as his thumb struggles to find your clit before rolling frantic circles, drawing you to your edge.
“Shhh, not yet darling, not yet,” he soothes, drawing his hand away, your shaking body still craving his touch. “Want you to cum around my cock, yeah?”
“Please,” you beg, tears almost in your eyes. You would do anything for this man. Really. “I want you inside of me so fucking bad, please, fuck me.”
“Anything for you,” he kisses you roughly as he works at his jeans, shoving them down and kicking them off before spreading your legs open with his hands, lifting his hips up and aligning his cock with your entrance, slicking his head up with your wetness.
“God stop teasing,” you whine, bucking your hips up and he presses them down into the cushions softly.
“Patience, babygirl,” he hushes, still teasing you with the head of his cock. “Want you to really want it.”
“I do,” you reassure, practically squirming in his hands. “I want it so fucking bad, Brendon, I don’t know why but I need it, I need it so bad-” You’re a blubbering mess and you’re begging so fast and so desperately when he pushes into you it’s pure ecstasy.
He’s thick and long and oh so perfect, stretching you out good as he sinks deeper inside of you, making your head spin, rocking out slightly just to push back in fully this time, earning a gasp out from between your lips. “Jesus baby, you’re so wet and so tight for me, fuck…” he groans, resting his head against yours, waiting a moment as he settles inside you, then lifting back up and starting to pick up a pace. “Shit, you feel so good. So fucking good.”
“Please,” you find yourself digging your nails into his biceps.
He withdraws back and pushes in again, hands on your shoulders, going harder and harder, making your head spin. It feels so fucking good you find yourself wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing himself deeper inside of you. He fucks you hard and rough, until he lets out a panted “turn around” once he pulls out, and you do so, propping yourself up on your knees, ass up for him, face down. You feel his cock press up against your heat and slide in once again, this time a new angle and new position, stretching you out even more, sliding in even deeper.
“Jesus, don’t stop baby,” you moan as he gets into a rhythm, hands moving from grabbing your ass to pulling on your shoulders for leverage, tugging at your hair, digging into your hips, trying to find the perfect way to fuck you roughly. You arch your back up slightly and feel him hit that sweet spot, making you moan into the sofa, legs fixed around his, hips bucking back and forth onto his cock. It feels so good it’s like you’ve never been fucked in your whole entire life before.
There’s a moment where he groans, low and deep, the kind of noise that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head in bliss, and he just goes at it, fucking you as fast as his hips allow him to, pushing deep and hard and rough. You sink your fingernails into the fabric of his sofa, head pressed against the cushions, gasping for air between your lips. His hands are gripping your ass so hard you hope to god he leaves fingerprints, and with each pant and groan coming from behind you know he’s working his way closer and closer. It’s sending you towards the brink of pure ectasy.
"Please,“ you beg, barely even audible, but you know he hears you because he keeps going harder. "Please, fuck Brendon, please-”
"But I don’t know if you’re, I’m not-“ he begins to protest, faltering for a moment but you shake your head.
"It’s okay, please just, I want it. I need it. Come inside me,” you implore and that’s all it takes. “Fuck, please just come inside of me.”
He’s thrusting sporadically, his breathy moans getting louder and more strained, and there’s one final push before he groans and his chest falls onto your back, his hands grasping at your breasts, legs buckling into the backs of your knees, and you feel it. He comes inside of you, the heat flooding your core, hot and thick and full, making you bury your face into the sofa, moans muffled by the fabric. His hips buck up a couple times, draining whatever is left inside of you, and then he pulls out, the liquid starting to drip from your folds, and he scoops you up, laying by your side and pressing a kiss to your forehead before picking you up completely, putting you ontop of him.
"Fuck, that felt so good,“ you sigh, raising your head to kiss him on the lips, and he deepens it, his tongue pressing against yours, warm and rich. "Thank you.”
"Thank you,“ he responds, humming, stroking his fingers through your hair as you rest your head on his chest, both of you struggling to catch your breath. "God that felt fucking fantastic, I don’t, I don’t ever think I’ve ever come that hard, shit…” He lets out a short breathy laughter and then sighs, pressing a kiss against your head, playing with your hair for a bit before running his fingertips down your back. “I don’t um, I don’t want to pressure you into anything but would you-”
"We are soooo fucking again,“ you finish for him, and you both chuckle, his lips smirking against your forehead.
"Okay, good to know we’re on the same page,” he responds with a laugh. “God you’re- you’re breathtaking, y/n. Fucking gorgeous.”
"As are you,“ you responded sleepily, although part of you craved more. Your fingertips traced circles on his chest, thinking for a moment, before you raised your head, looking at him, sly smile on your lips. "You know… I don’t have work tomorrow…”
"Yeah?“ he raised an eyebrow, curious.
"Yeah,” you drew your bottom lip in between your teeth, nodding. “I have all night. And all morning.”
"We,“ he corrected, grabbing your ass, making you shudder. "We have all night.”
"Whatever you say,“ you tell him, pressing a kiss to his lips, closing your eyes. When you pull away you whisper. "I’m all yours.”
