shawn mendes imagines

christmas

Thought I'd gift you beautiful people with some good old Shawn smut for the holidays. Merry Christmas loves.

Disclaimers: This shit is VERY dirty. Please don't read it if you don't like smut. I have plenty of G rated imagines for you all :)

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"Shawn, grab the champagne from the fridge, would you?" you call out, internally rolling your eyes at your fiancé, scrambling down the stairs and into kitchen in attempt to get everything ready for the Christmas dinner you and Shawn were hosting this year.

His family and your family were set to be here in half an hour, and you'd spent the entire day getting all the food prepared, making sure the house looked spotless, littered with christmas lights and decor. Shawn sat comfortably on the living room couch, long legs kicked up, phone in his hands. As soon as he heard your voice, he clicked his phone off and slid it in the pocket of his infamous black skinny jeans, hurriedly standing up as he sheepishly smiled.

"Sorry Angel, I'm on it," he chuckles, walking over the to kitchen island, stopping dead in his long strides when he set eyes on you.

Although Shawn had been of some help during the afternoon, he made it clear that he just had to watch the football game as soon as it began airing, abandoning you in the kitchen for the last 2 hours. In that time, you'd managed to change into silky champagne slip dress, the fabric setting almost perfectly on your figure, the low neckline adorning your collarbones. You were also clad in black thigh high boots, the heel adding a couple of inches to your frame - however, not nearly close to the striking 6'2 height of Shawn.

"Jesus Christ, baby," he mutters, eyeing you from a couple feet away, quick to close the gap between you two as his lust filled eyes neared your own. He grips his freakishly large hands into your waist, pulling you close, allowing your chests to meet with a soft thud.

You smile softly, thanking the few layers of make up for covering the noticeable blush creeping onto your cheeks. Shawn was never one to hide his feelings for you, no matter the occasion, no matter the place, no matter the time. When you looked good - which, to him, was pretty much always - he made sure to vocalize it.

"You look fucking incredible," he whispers, eyes looking down on you with so much love it made your heart swell. You could see the lust beginning to cloud behind those light brown eyes of his, though, causing a knowing smirk to line your red painted lips.

"Thank you," you grin, "as do you."

One of your favorite things about your breathtakingly handsome boyfriend was his sense of fashion, because God did the man know how to dress. His black jeans fit snugly against his thighs, the crisp white button down he adorned strained at the bicep, 3 of the buttons undone so that it allowed access to his firm chest. His favorite watch felt cool against your skin as he brought his hand up to grip the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your curled hair.

He smirks as his way of saying thank you back, kissing your lips gently, and you giggle when you see the new print of red on his. Abruptly picking you up with both hands still glued to your waist, he places you on the edge of the marble kitchen island, sneaking in between your parted legs.

"What time is it?" he inquires, letting loose of your neck, flipping his wrist to check the time on his watch.

"7 o'clock," he breathes, looking up at you with a cute little smile, "that sounds like a perfect amount of time to get-"

"The champagne out of the fridge," you cut him off with your eyebrows raised, knowing exactly where his mind was going with that one, "both our families are going to be here in like, thirty minutes Shawn."