Shawn Mendes one shots

Quiet (Smut)

Shawn's dark eyes watches you carefully while his lanky body is leaning against the table with a few water bottles and some fruit on as you continue to scroll carelessly through your phone, untouched with the amount of people entering and leaving the backstage area in a rush.

Shawn is heated and bothered, feeling slightly irritated without having a proper reason to.

He can hear the soundtec in the distance, preparing for the show tonight and though he should be getting ready, all he does it watch you.

Watch how you're chewing into your plump bottom lip and how your hand is running through your wavy hair to remove tots from falling in your eyes. It makes him even more tense than he already is and it forces him to close his hands around the edge of the table.

You flew out this morning to join him on tour for a couple of days before university starts again and you'll be tied up for good. What is really bothering Shawn is that you've been in the same room as him for exactly three hours and all he's gotten out of you is one bloody kiss.

Only one kiss and not even a proper one.

Shawn have been aching for your touches since you stepped through the door, wanting to feel you against him but apparently that wasn't in the cards. He had plans with you. Plans that involved a lot less clothes and ended with you being underneath him while begging for mercy.

Shawn was sick and tired of those late-night phone calls where you moaned out his name, he was tired of touching himself to the thought of you and tired of only seeing you naked on a photo.

Most of all, Shawn was tired of watching you sit across from him in that tight blue dress, fully aware of what you were doing to him by wearing it, when all he could do was look at you. And oh boy, did Shawn love you in that dress. It hugged your curves and fitted around your ass like a wet dream.

Shawn was certain you were teasing him on purpose. Wearing a dress like that, looking as good as you did when you knew, Shawn wasn't able to fuck you until much later tonight. Therefore, he was annoyed.

Annoyed at you for looking this good, annoyed at people for not leaving the two of you alone. Most of all, Shawn was annoyed that you're still wearing that dress when it was made for him to rip off.

Shawn struggles to breathe when you stand from the black couch and move towards the long mirror hanging on the wall next to the bathroom door. When you adjust your dress with your hands, he feels a throb between his legs and he almost lose his shit when you wriggle the fabric further down your ass.

Shawn's jaw drops while your ass is swaying a little, turning back and forth in front of the mirror to see how you look.

He mumbles swear words under his breath in pure frustration with how good you're looking but you don't notice his desperation, though it's written all over his heated face. You catch his eyes in the reflection of the mirror and you send a short smile. Shawn wants to smile towards you, but he isn't capable of doing so.

He's too busy imagining the things he wants to do to you, too caught up in the fantasy in his head. He's fully aware that his stage call is in twenty-eight minutes, even more aware that the venue is crowded and the chances of his team walking in are massive.

But Shawn doesn't need much time alone with you to get a release. A release he really fucking needs.

Since your arrival, you have managed to make him suffer in ways he didn't think was possible. He is aching and horny and cares less and less about getting caught.

Shawn walks towards you with his eyes locked on your body and then, he drags you into the bathroom and locks the door.

"Shawn!" You squeal in surprise by his rough and unexpected move.