*Hey guys so this is something new. I'm gonna write a smut story that has a few parts. I'm doing a smut story cause I got a few people telling me that the last one was pretty good and it gave me the confidence (somehow) to write another one 😂 The smut smutty part isn't yet and will come later in other parts. So yeah, kinda strong language in this one. But there is mention of sexual stuff so if u don't like that then read ahead. Also the picture kinda fits the story line a little and in general is currently my favourite picture of Shawn 😏 If you aren't a fan of strong language or smut then I'd really appreciate it if you guys go and read my 1st chapter on my new story "Everything Means Nothing" xx hope you guys enjoy this one, love you all so much 💕
-
*y/n POV
"Well shit," Andrew said turning around to face me and Shawn. My back was pressed against Shawn's chest as his left arm was wrapped around my waist securely and his right hand held his phone. He was trying to distract himself from the situation. Even from the inside we could here the flashing of paparazzi cameras and loud voices of fans.
Shawn had finished his VerizonUp event in New York City just a couple of hours ago. His sweaty after show appearance was still present: his damp brown curls a cute mess - some stuck to his forehead, his rouge cheeks and lips, his black vest top clinging for dear life to his toned chest and abs - revealing his smooth arms, his scuffed black boots - only shiny in some places, and finally his very tight and skinny black jeans - supporting his tucked in vest top. The jeans were the problem. More like what's inside the jeans.
After the show, me and Shawn had to hang out for ages in his dressing room backstage because there were too many paparazzi, as well as fans, waiting outside the venue. And the current issue is they're still outside. Whilst in his dressing room, Shawn got a little ... impatient ... In his pants.
We both tried to solve the issue quickly by attempting to do it on the leather squeaky sofa in his dressing room, but alas, Mr spoil - sport Andrew Gertler waltzes right in just as we're making out. What a dickhead. And now we have to get from the venue into the car to get to our hotel without the paparazzi snapping hundreds of pictures of Shawn's boner. So thank you Andrew, really appreciate it. This won't just be embarrassing for Shawn but it'll be embarrassing for me too as it's pretty obvious that I'm the reason behind it.
*Shawn POV
The rest of the crew are finding this highly amusing but me and y/n aren't, as well as Andrew who now finally realised why he should've just let us carry on earlier.
"Why don't we just use the back entrance?" Eddy suggests, shrugging his shoulders as he just joins the rest of the crew downstairs.
"Because, Eddy," I reply sarcastically, "If you hadn't of been so late, you would've have been here when we said there's paparazzi at the back entrance too," I state.
"That's the first time you've spoken through this whole thing," Zubin acknowledged.
"Well gold star for you Zubin, I don't really give a fuck about who's speaking, I only care about getting out of here without the whole ass world knowing I've got a fucking boner," I say, fake smiling through gritted teeth.
"Jesus, Shawn, no need to get your knickers in a twist!" Zubin chuckles.
"Oh wait, what about 'no need to get your boxers all stiff,'" Eddy jokes and the entire crew laughs along with him.
"Fucking dipshits," I say under my breath. Y/n chuckles below me, her hand over her mouth trying to mute the sound. "Hey, this isn't funny!" I remark, squeezing her sides. She squeals and turns around in my arms and laces hers around my neck, twirling my back curls around her index finger.
