Shawn Mendes imagines

Get Him Angry

More smut

You'd been curving him all day, you know exactly why. He'd been trying to shower you in love since about 11 AM. He persisted, pushing it well into the day, but you ducked and dodged every attempt. The both of you were now busy at his red carpet event tonight, meaning he was distracted and you were holding all the power in palm of your hand.

His mind raced and rioted, picking apart every little detail to uncover the well-hidden secret of why you wouldn't let him lay even a finger on you. It was pissing him off if he was being honest with himself, but you're a person all your own and he always respects your choices.

He now stood, free of conversation and a delicate champagne glass perched in his hand, the golden beverage bubbling in its home. His eyes were trained on you, almost always were; the way you walked, the way you talked, it all left him so enamored, yet he didn't have the courage to pull you away like his conscience was so desperately trying to guilt him into doing.

It was when someone you'd met in the bathroom walked away that Shawn swooped in, taking the previous conversationalist's position. "Don't you look ravishing." You mutter, flashing Shawn a smile.

The look on his face reveals that he's not up for the games. Clenched jaw, fingers tightly wrapped around his now empty glass, and deep brown eyes that no longer reflect a tawny warmth per usual. "I could say the same to you." He finally utters, his eyes boring deep into your own.

The slight eye contact there was enough to make you feel small. You stood your ground as if you weren't cowering a bit on the inside, understanding the anger exhibited by his body language at the moment. "Why are you so upset?"

"Not upset, just confused on why my girl's been avoiding me all day."
"I'm not avoiding you." You lied right through your teeth, slotting your fingers back and forth through each other.

Shawn knew you much better than you ever gave him credit for, recognizing your little nervous quirk. He knows you're only ever nervous when you've got a presentation at work or you're lying. Any project you would've raved about during your night routine so you've got to be lying to him. "Bullshit." He hums, downing the rest of your glass.

Now with your sense on high alert you drink was long forgotten. "So what's up? Did I do something wrong?" He hates to think it was him especially with how much you tell him he's so good to you, but he never knows. You shake your head no quickly, wanting to diminish all possibilities in his head that it's him.

Truth is, you'd been studying Shawn to, more often than you thought about. It was rare for you to be up before him, so when you were you took note of how relaxed and youthful he was when he slept or the furrowed brow he had in his sleep if he had a dream that angered him. You knew him too; and you knew that if he was angry, by the end of the night you'd both be satisfied.

He stopped talking, a light bulb instantly going off in his head; like he was reading your mind. He knew what you wanted and he was gonna make you work for it. "Let's get outta here, I'm getting bored now."

"Okay." You agreed, following him warily.

His body visibly relaxed, all traces of whatever previous fury nowhere to be seen. That's what made you even more nervous than before. You keep still in his passenger seat as he drove home, resting his right hand on your knee. He squeezed every once in a while, laughing when you jumped out of your skin. Now you were starting to doubt your elaborate little scheme.

It's another 15 minutes before you guys are home, you taking the keys from Shawn's hands to unlock the front door. You can't do it, the sweat slicking over your palms making it hard to even hold the key. He reaches around you, slipping the key from your fingertips and opening the door in seconds. You scurry off to the bedroom, kicking your heels off as soon as the door is open.