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your-divine-ribs · 1 month

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Good Touch

Words: 4.6k

A very stressed out Van comes into your salon for a massage so you help him to relax in the best possible way… I wrote this just after the Cardiff 2022 gig got cancelled 😭 // Just pure self-indulgent smut because I fancy this man so bad I have no other excuse lol sorry 😂

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"I'm so glad we're nearly done for the day, I can't wait to get home. Thank god I've not got any more clients."

Your colleague and salon receptionist Naomi looks up as you push through the door after heading back from a much needed coffee break. A small frown creases her forehead.

"Actually Y/N, you do have another client. He was a late booker from this morning. Haven't you seen it in the diary?"

"No..." Your heart sinks as she slides the appointment book towards you across the counter, squinting at Naomi's practically indecipherable scrawl. "Mr... what? Mr McCarr? McCaw? Don't recognise the name. He's not a regular then..."

Great, you sigh to yourself. A brand new client last thing on a Friday. These days your diary is full of satisfied repeat bookers and you've got to know all of them well during your time at the salon. It's almost like you can forget you're working at times, you just switch on the relaxing music and chat to them whilst you massage away their tension knots and usually their worries too. It's often soothing even for you, but this week has been long and exhausting and the thought of making polite conversation with a total stranger for a whole session when you're ready to go home is totally draining.

Well... let's just hope he's one of the quiet ones who just wants to lie there and zone out.

"It's actually McCann... excuse my terrible writing!" Naomi laughs. "But yeah he's new. He came in grumbling about his manager ordering him to come for a session. He's had some shit go down at work or something... I don't know. He was pretty vague, mumbling like he really didn't wanna be here."

You look quickly towards the treatment room door which is thankfully shut. "He's already here?"

"Uh-huh," Naomi nods, scrunching up her face. "He looks like shit... really stressed out... like maybe he's not slept for a month." She grins mischievously. "Shame really as I reckon he'd be proper fit normally!"

"Naomi!" You exclaim in a hushed whisper, stepping over in alarm. "For Christ's sake keep your voice down!"

Naomi just shrugs, unfazed, tapping her manicured fingernails on the counter. "He won't hear, the door's shut. Chill out! Anyway, enjoy... he's booked in for a full body massage!"

Her eyebrows shoot up suggestively at the final few words, but you don't partake in her smutty behaviour. You've always prided yourself on your professionalism. You'll just go in and do your job... work your magic... in forty-five minutes you'll have another satisfied customer.

You take a deep breath and open the door...

You should have realised. You should have put two and two together, but why would you? Okay... McCann isn't exactly a common name, but the thought of having a real-life, living, breathing, famous rockstar casually dropping into your salon is the last thing you'd expect on a Friday afternoon.

But sure enough there he is, larger than life and a hundred times more handsome than his videos on YouTube, perched on the edge of the treatment bed wearing nothing but a pair of tight-fitting black boxers. Very tight-fitting actually, you note, quickly wrenching your eyes upwards to meet his sparkling blue gaze and his awkward looking slightly crooked smile.

"Alright love?" He greets you in that familiar tone that you've grown to love by watching every interview of his that you've scoured the internet for.

You're flustered even though you tell yourself that you shouldn't be. In your line of work you deal with clients in various states of undress all day, every day. It's just that they're not normally Van McCann, singer of your favourite band. The very same band who've just brutally broken your heart and put a serious dint in your finances by pulling out of a stadium gig you'd been set to attend only weeks away. You'd been devastated and frustrated, not to mention fuming about the band's lack of communication with their loyal and dedicated fanbase, but all of a sudden those feelings of resentment take a backseat to your utter shock at having this most elusive of your idols sitting there before you, eyes glowing with a subtle kind of amusement at your stunned expression.

"Oh... errr sorry... wasn't I supposed to get my kit off yet?"

"Yes... yes... of course!" You blurt, checking yourself when you realise you sound overly eager, making out you're clearing your throat so you can take a moment to compose yourself, forcing your inner fangirl back into hiding. "I mean, sure. I can't massage you fully dressed now, can I?"

Van nods but his smile slips as you step forward to retrieve a towel off the bale on the wall, and now you're a little closer you can see what Naomi was talking about. The skin under his eyes looks dark-tinged and puffy, his skin sallow under the lighting. He sighs under his breath as he gets to his feet. "Might as well get this over and done with then."

His comment makes you bristle slightly but you recall Naomi's earlier comment and you take the chance to explore his lack of enthusiasm. "Oh, my colleague mentioned something about your manager making you come? You don't sound too thrilled about it. Most people love coming for a treatment. It's therapeutic you know."

"Yeah well... I don't need therapy," he says quickly, his voice tight and defensive. You've obviously hit a nerve. You hadn't realised that you'd stepped back, recoiling, but Van notices. He looks immediately embarrassed, offering an apologetic smile, pushing a hand through his hair as he talks.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to snap... it's just... errr... it's just I've really been going through it at the moment. Things have been... difficult... really difficult." His eyes dart around the room before they meet yours again. "You could say pretty much everything I touch is falling apart these days."

You're full of intrigue, literally bursting with curiosity to find out the reason behind the band's demise, but he's made no reference to show that he knows that you're aware of who he is. In fact you think he probably suspects you don't and he's relieved about that. Despite your desperation to find out the band's fate you really can't probe him. You don't want to scare him off, but you also don't want to treat an unwilling client. It just doesn't feel right.

"Look... I'm really sorry to hear that, but I probably shouldn't treat you if you don't want to be here..."

Van cuts you off, looking contrite. "It's not that I don't want to be here, really. Please don't take offence. It's just that I don't know how a bloody massage is supposed to miraculously cure all of my problems, that's all."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, and you smile back, holding out the towel to him which he accepts.

"I'm sure it won't... but it will relax you, I can promise you that. You can just lie back and close your eyes and check out of real life for a little while. C'mon, why don't you just try it? You might like it. Let me take care of you for a bit."

Oh... you hadn't meant it to come out quite like that, so intimate-sounding. You feel your cheeks begin to warm as his grin widens.

"Well, if ya put it like that how can I resist? I'm sure I'll be in very capable hands! Now... how do you want me... on the bed?"

His last line's said innocently enough but there's an underlying cheekiness simmering just below that gorgeous smile that makes your belly flip. You bite back the smirk that's threatening to surface along with a very inappropriate smutty comment, trying to restore the composed and professional demeanour that you usually display with your clients.

"Yeah, just lie down right here." You look down quickly to hide your flushed cheeks, patting the soft sheet draped over the bed. "If you start off lying on your front then I can do your back, and then you can turn over." You pause, mentally bracing yourself before you say the next line, but ending up blurting it out in a tumble of rushed words. "You can... umm... take everything off if you like... you don't have to but some clients prefer it that way. It's completely up to you though. You can use the towel to cover yourself if you do."

Fuck... your cheeks are on fire now, your pulse starting to race. The room suddenly feels like a furnace as you watch Van quickly hook his fingers under the elastic waistband of his boxers without hesitation, starting to inch them down his slim hips.

"Oh... I'll step out and give you some privacy!" You exclaim, hurriedly whirling around to avert your eyes at the realisation that he means to completely strip off right there and then in front of you.

"Not a problem," comes his relaxed voice from behind you. "I'm not shy."

A giggle of pure embarrassment bubbles up inside and you bite down on your lip to stem it, trying to control your pounding heart. You need to pull yourself together and fast. In a moment you've got to turn around and deliver a relaxing and professional massage but all you can think of is getting your hands on his naked body for all the improper reasons.

"Just let me know when you're ready!" You say brightly, stepping forward to peruse the massage oils, deciding on a blend of patchouli and sandalwood. You tap the small speaker on the shelf and a wave of soft, soothing meditative music fills the small room. Scented candles are already lit to give the room a calming ambience.

"Ready... I'm all yours!" You hear him call back.

Yes... yes you are, you smile to yourself as you move over to dim the lights before finally turning around.

He's laid out on the bed on his front as instructed and for the first time you can get a good look at him uninhibited. His wiry body is lean but taut, his skin pale save for the slight flush where he's obviously caught the sun on the tops of his arms and around his neck. The tiny towel that you gave him is draped temptingly over his pert little ass and you curse yourself for not giving him an even smaller one.

"How are you feeling? Are you comfortable enough?" You ask, tipping some of the oil into the palm of your hand and warming it between your fingers, coating them in the fragrant liquid.

"Uh-huh I'm good... yeah I'm all good," he replies, shifting slightly where he lays and bringing his arms up to fold across the end of the table. He lays his head sideways against his crossed arms. You have a clear view of his face from here and you can see that his eyes are shut. "I've never had a massage before... I don't really know what to expect."

"Just relax," you tell him. "That's all you need to do. Just leave the rest to me."

You step forward until you're inches away from the table, looking down on him. You can hardly believe that this man who's dwelled in your fantasies up until this moment is lying here in front of you, naked as the day he was born, completely at your mercy. Tingles of excitement are sparking through you and again you have to take a moment to compose yourself, surreptitiously shaking out the tension from your fingers which are trembling slightly.

You start by placing your palms on either side of his spine just below his neck, trailing your hands down to his lower back, then up again, this time moving in circles, firmly smoothing his flesh as you go. He lets out a small sigh and you feel him sink down further into the bed.

"That feels nice already," he murmurs. "Think maybe I am gonna enjoy this after all."

Not as much as I'm going to enjoy it, you muse to yourself, smiling as your fingers nudge the towel aside to smooth over the top of the contours of his ass, thumbs pressing into the small of his back.

"I'm only just getting started," you say. "I can feel a lot of tension in your muscles, so I'm going to have to be thorough."

His only reply is a soft "mmmm" which sounds far more sensual to your ears than it probably should. Your mind wanders, imagining him flipping over and pulling you down on top of him, hitching up your dress whilst you straddle him and grind shamelessly against him.

You try to clear your mind, moving upwards again and using your fingers to caress the muscles across the tops of his shoulders, working out the knots of tension as you go. His skin is soft and smooth, more so than you would have imagined, and the way your oil-soaked hands glide across his flesh is arousing you beyond belief. His body glistens in the candlelight. Maybe this was a bad idea. You can feel your professionalism ebbing away as you bring your hands down to focus on his slender waist, not making a move to replace the towel when it slips to the side, exposing his bum.

Van doesn't seem to notice or maybe he does but he just doesn't care. He has a blissed-out expression on his face, his eyes screwed shut and his lips slightly parted, a small crease adorning his brow as he lets out a sound that's halfway between a whimper and a sigh.

"You have no idea how good that feels... really. You're some kind of goddess, I'm sure of it."

His words fan the flames that are already simmering inside of you and you can feel the ache grow between your thighs as you shift your position to move down to his legs.

"Oh, I don't know about that," you reply, laughing softly. "My clients always seem to go away happy though."

"I don't doubt it.... mmmm... god that's so good... ohhh..."

There he goes again. Christ... those little moans that he's making are not helping matters. If he's this expressive just from a basic massage how would he react if you showed him your real talents? You push the thought away, reaching for more oil before you begin on his legs, wrapping your fingers around his calves as you massage your way up, spreading your hands wide as they slide up his thighs.

"F... uck," he groans, low and drawn out and you see him push his pelvis into the bed as your fingers trail dangerously close to the sensitive area between his parted thighs. Now you're certain that you're not the only one getting turned on, but it's hardly surprising, with each stroke you're pushing the boundaries of decency, edging closer and closer to forbidden territory. His arms move from their relaxed position so he can grip the edges of the bed and you smile to yourself as you feel his body stiffen.

There are strict rules of conduct for masseuses in your salon and you're breaking every single one. If your manager could see you now you'd be facing a disciplinary at the very least, or at worst you'd be fired. That doesn't stop you though, your fingers kneading teasingly at a spot that makes him visibly shiver until you feel the muscles in his thighs clench up tight under your touch.

"Are you still feeling okay?" You ask, finally moving your hands away, wiping the excess oil on the towel before you gently drape it back over his bum.

"Yeah... yeah I'm all good," he answers, but his choked up voice would suggest otherwise. Maybe you're going too far. Your salon prides itself on offering the most soothing treatments, leaving clients feeling calm and relaxed, not wound up tight like a spring, gripping the treatment bed like their lives depend on it.

"Are you sure? I know my massages can be pretty... intense."

He lets out a throaty chuckle. "Intense? That's one way to describe it! Think maybe I'm... errr... enjoying it a little too much."

You can't help the grin which stretches wide on your lips at his words which are like music to your ears, a green light to continue in your endeavours to make him feel good. You've never really considered your ability to make a person's body react to your whim a talent before, more like a gift. So what's wrong with bestowing a gift of your own on someone else every once in a while? He so obviously needs it.

"It's time to turn over now," you tell him, grasping the edge of the towel to lift it, allowing it to screen him as he moves.

"Al... already?" He stutters, uncertainty in his voice as he shifts. "I... errr... umm... okay then."

He rolls on to his side and you train your eyes on the far wall as he does to allow him his privacy, only looking back down to replace the towel when he's settled on to his back.

Oh...

All of a sudden the source of his hesitancy is abundantly clear as you see the the towel tenting slightly over his cock. You have to fight hard to suppress the self-satisfied smirk you can feel trying to surface, quickly looking away, your eyes meeting Van's in an awkward moment of understanding.

He smiles sheepishly, his cheeks tinged an adorable shade of rosy pink and you fleetingly consider acknowledging the situation you've both found yourselves in, but you decide against it, opting to just carry on instead.

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn to reach for more oil then you step to the head of the bed, looking down on him. He blinks up at you, stunning pale greeny-blue eyes framed with thick, long lashes. You're certain you're not imagining the wordless exchange that you can feel taking place, a tender kind of lustfulness that his imploring expression conveys. He wants this. You know he does.

You place your hands on either side of his neck, letting them trail down to his collar bones and then outwards across his chest before drawing them back and repeating the movements over and over. You can feel his heartbeat thundering under your fingertips at each pass, his chest rising and falling deeply.

"You okay?" You check in on him and he nods, eyes swirling with intensity.

"Uh-huh..." he breathes out, then he clears his throat. "You're pretty incredible at this, you know that?"

You smile, soaking in the praise, wondering if he thinks every client of yours gets this extra special attention that he's receiving, wondering if he cares?

"It's working then, is it?" You grin.

Van laughs and you can feel it vibrate through his chest under your palms. "Put it this way, I'm not exactly thinking about my problems right now!"

"Good... that's good... that's the aim."

You step back around to the side of the bed so you can reach further, moving your hands down over his abdomen, letting your fingers slip under the edge of the towel and trail down the V of his hips. He lets out a shaky exhale and you glance up to see his eyes fluttering shut, his mouth slightly agape. He looks divine lying there, his oiled skin shimmering in the flicker of the dim candlelight, the temptation to pull away the towel so strong that you find your fingers twitching with longing. That's just a step too far though. Teasing is one thing but giving one of your clients a sneaky hand-job is another entirely. Besides, just because he's turned on it doesn't mean he's giving you consent to relieve his tensions in such a sensual way. He'd definitely have to ask... or maybe even beg...

Fuck... you wonder what that would sound like falling from those full pink lips of his, the same lips that are currently being pulled in between his teeth to stifle a groan. You coax it from him anyway as your hands move down to grip his thighs, pushing them slightly apart as you knead at the sensitive flesh. The towel rises up even further in response and now you know you've really crossed the line. Van's gripping the edges of the bed tightly, his breathing coming heavy and ragged. His hips press upwards as if to chase your touch as your fingers wrap around the top of his thigh under the towel, the backs of them just barely grazing his balls as you move away.

"I think we'd better finish there for today," you say hurriedly, watching carefully for his reaction, pleased when his eyes flick open with a look of dismay. "That's if you've... umm... had enough?"

He pauses for a moment, his brow furrowed in a hopeful kind of eagerness. "You mean there's more... if I want it?"

"Yes," you say with no absolutely hesitance, boldly meeting his needy gaze, gauging his reaction whilst you try to formulate your next words in your head. "I mean I think we both know that there's more than one way to relax somebody... a more unconventional way to relieve that obvious tension if you like."

You try not to think of Naomi innocently sitting outside at the reception desk filing her nails whilst you're in here propositioning a client in the most sordid kind of way. Despite her earlier teasing you just know that she'd be horrified by your actions. You start to fret that maybe you've made a mistake, but then Van speaks, and your worries melt away in an instant.

"I want it... I really want it... please."

In a deft motion he tugs at the towel and it falls away on to the bed, exposing him completely. As expected he's gloriously hard, his cock just as delectable as the rest of him, thick and rigid with a flushed tip, just begging for your attention. You waste no time in wrapping your fingers hungrily around his girth, swiping your thumb over the sensitive head.

"Shit," he mutters. "I can't believe this is happening."

He hoists his body upwards, propping himself on his elbows, craning his neck to watch as you begin to caress him, taking your time, sliding your oil-slicked fingers slowly and deliberately up and down his length.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," you murmur, the shock and excitement of what you're doing hitting you as he lets out a throaty groan and you worry that Naomi might hear.

"No... don't stop," he gasps breathlessly. "Please don't ever stop. It's so good... mmm."

His eyes flick between yours and his cock, dark and heavy-lidded, strands of his hair fallen forward on to his face which is creased in pleasure. You don't think you've ever witnessed a sexier sight, the obvious enjoyment etched on his face, his hips pistoning upwards needily as he fucks himself into your hand.

You pick up your pace, gripping him firmly, flicking your wrist over the head at each stroke, loving the way he writhes under your touch. His jagged panted breaths mingling with his choked groans and the obscenely wet sounds of your slick hand moving over his length seem to bounce off the walls of the small room making everything seem more intense.

"Keep going," he groans pleadingly. "Please... just like that... ahh fuck."

You're torn between wanting to stretch this out and wanting to drive him to his peak, the sinful noises he's making travelling down to your own core, soaking your panties through. You move to cup his balls with your free hand, gently massaging them, satisfied when he grits his teeth and lets out a particularly primal sounding groan.

"I can't hold on... I'm gonna come... fuck, fuck... FU-CK..." he hisses, thrusting into your hand, his whole body spasming. You watch him, transfixed as his jaw falls slack and his eyes glaze over as the swells of his climax peak and he comes, hard, milky splatters of cum painting his belly and spilling out over your knuckles.

You tug him a few more times until you've milked every last drop out of his orgasm and he's shuddering under your touch, his head hanging forward, muttering incoherently under his breath.

You release your grip on him, reaching for the towel and perching on the side of the bed, waiting for his reaction as you clean off your fingers, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Holy fucking shit," he finally murmurs, raising his head, his blue eyes meeting yours, full of wonder and shock and an awe-like reverence that makes your breath catch in your throat. "I know I'm brand new to this whole massage thing but I'm guessing that's not how it usually goes down?"

He accepts the towel from your outstretched hand as you offer him an awkward smile, the enormity of what you've just done hitting you now. "I can promise you I've never done that before. I... I don't know what came over me... sorry."

"Sorry?" He echoes quickly, his eyes bulging in disbelief. "Please don't apologise! That was..." he pauses, shaking his head, searching for the right words. "That was probably one of the hottest experiences of my life! Really... I mean it!"

A deep scarlet flush washes over you. "I hardly think so..."

"Trust me, it was," he cuts in, his eyes bright, a kind of youthful sparkle in them that looks good on him. "My only regret is I didn't even ask you your name... you know... before..."

He stops, chucking warmly, dabbing at the sticky mess on his belly before he drapes the towel over his lap and swings his legs around so he's sitting next to you on the bed.

"It's Y/N," you say, quietly.

"Van," he offers, holding out a hand to you in a greeting gesture, laughing when you accept it. Then you're laughing too at the absurdity of the belated formalities now when you've already shared an intimate moment together.

"Note to self," he grins up at you as you break away and get to your feet. "Make sure you're on first-name terms with a girl before you accept her offer of a hand-job!"

"Oh my god!" You giggle, cheeks glowing, huge grin splitting your face in two as you raise up a hand to your face, embarrassment flooding you now.

"I... errr... suppose I'd... errr... better give you some privacy now... you know, to get dressed." You start to back away, glancing down as you start to turn, feeling awkward now the heat of the moment has dissipated and it's painfully obvious the two of you are nothing more than strangers thrown together under a happy coincidence.

"Hold up... wait... Y/N..."

Van's voice comes urgently, stopping you in your tracks. You spin around, coming to face him, looking at him expectantly, surprised to see an awkward hesitance about him. He's still naked save for the small towel he's holding which is barely covering his modesty and you battle with yourself to keep a straight face.

"On my way in I saw this little coffee shop just across the road. I don't suppose you'd like to go and grab a drink with me would ya... if ya not busy that is? I figured you probably got off work soon?"

His voice rises up hopefully and your stomach flips with excitement but you try not to let it show, keeping your inner fangirl in check who's bursting to start doing a celebration dance at this dazzling turn of events.

"Yeah," you nod, returning Van's warm grin with one of your own. "Yeah... I'd really like that."

#good touch #catb imagines #van mccann x reader #fanfic #vanfic #smut

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catb-fics · 7 months

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Kinktober 2023 Writing Challenge

Hi guys welcome to the shit-show which is my first Kinktober Writing Challenge! 🫣 I didn’t manage to write 31 minifics/headcanons and I still need to finish some off but I’m aiming to get 31 completed at some point (hopefully before November 2024!)

Since these got deleted off Wattpad I’m going to post them on here. The masterlist is under the cut and I’ll link them as I post them.

Thank you for reading lovelies, hope you have a good laugh lol 😘 xxx

Masterlist

1. Bad Girl 🖤 Prof Van (spanking)

2. Inside 🩵 Sam Fender (cock-warming)

3. Secretive ❤️ Red Van (thigh-riding)

4. Burning Desire 🧡 Prof Bond (wax play)

5. Truth 💖 I’m with the Band Van (squirting)

6. Sweet Dreams 💙 Ice Cold Van (somnophilia)

7. Daredevil 🩶 Playing Hard to Get Van (exhibitionism)

8. Borrowed Time 💗 (69) Dad Van

9. Limit 🖤 Prof Van (overstimulation)

10. Confession 💜 Pure Van (corruption)

11. Surrender 🩵 Sam Fender (idk… size kink maybe?)

12. Privacy ❤️‍🔥 Devil Next Door Van (voyeurism)

13. Blade 💙 Ice Cold Van (knife play)

14. Cheat ❤️ Red Van (exhibitionism)

15. The Show 🖤 Prof Van (sex toys)

16. Baby Fever 💗 Dad Van (breeding)

17. Anything ❤️ Red Van (edging)

18. Picture Perfect 💖 I’m with the Band Van (sex tape) WIP

19. Poolside 🩶 Playing Hard to Get Van (nipple play) WIP

20. Incentive 🖤 Prof Van (orgasm denial) WIP

21. High 🩶 Playing Hard to Get Van (stoned sex) WIP

22. Miss You 💘 All the Mixed Feelings Van (phone sex) WIP

23.

24.

25.

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

I’m open to suggestions for any of the blank numbers!

Kinktober talk

#kinktober #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #johnny bond #sam fender #au fanfic #vanfic #smut

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okayohay · 10 months

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Two chapter updates to TOLBINY over on Wattpad.

I’ve been in out of the state and trying to enjoy summer a bit but I realize that I reallllllly miss writing any time that I’m away from it. These two chapters are the last of the lazy chaps for a while before the dram really starts.

Playlist update

THIRTY-ONE - “I Wish I Was Sober” - Frightened Rabbit

THIRTY-TWO - “Just To Keep You Satisfied” - Inhaler

Story found here

Playlist found here

Also, I reallllllly miss CATB today. Like a whole lot.

#van mccann #catfish and the bottlemen #catb #fan fiction #writer #bob hall #benji blakeway #johnny bond #fan fic author #fan fic update #fan fic smut #fan fic things

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storiesbyrhi · 2 years

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hi! how are you? i hope you dont mind me asking but how did you get into writing fics and posting them?

I absolutely do not mind!

I have been reading fanfics for about 20 years (I'm in my early 30s now.) As soon as my family got the internet (we had to wait a couple years longer than most people because a - I grew up very poor, and b - I grew up in a remote location technologically speaking), I was dialing up and logging onto the very first fanfic sites.

Even before that though, I was planning and 'writing' fanfic. I used to think about me and Jack from Titanic, me and Nick from Backstreet Boys, me and... Lola Bunny... I wrote stories the best way my teeny tiny little kid self knew how. When I hit puberty I started to write slash fic, mostly dudes in bands. I don't write RP anymore, but it was my bread and butter for a long time.

In my late teens and early 20s, I didn't write as much. I moved out of home and had to work to keep myself afloat, and I was studying. I still read a lot. Still a lot of emo band guys making out, you know? I got back into reader insert then though.

In my mid-20s I fell in love with a band called Catfish and the Bottlemen, and I started to write Reader/Van McCann fics. I wrote multiple stories every day and had a pretty successful Tumblr blog dedicated to those fics and the band. In the great Tumblr porn ban and purge, my blog got deactivated. I didn't even write like, hardcore smut. I was devasted because I had a whole little family through that blog. A community. And it was all gone just like that.

I stopped writing RP after that. I dabbled in Reader/Bucky Barnes for a little bit, but then went years without writing anything. Maybe it was the pandemic. Maybe I lost some of the passion I felt about... idk... everything?

Then... 2022... Eddie Munson. I'm back baby. Hahahaa.

As for posting my writing, I just... always have? I've gone through stages where I wanted to stay anonymous, but for the most part, I've been pretty honest about it all. I'm not ashamed and all my friends and family know I'm a fanfic queeeeennnnn. Dead proud of my word count and the communities I've built actually.

TL;DR: I've been here forever, and after I am gone I will surely be a ghost in the computer.

#Rhi Answers

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somethinglikethatyeah83 · 2 years

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I HAVE AN ANNOUNCMENT

I am writing an imagines book! It will be on wattpad (my account is 'somethinglikethat83') and will consist only of Van McCann imagines because why the hell not.

The first imagine will be up soon! Like, tonight (GMT)! I'll link the story when the first imagine comes up but just keep a look out on my wattpad and tumblr page.

I do have a lot of ideas but I will run out eventually so if you want me to write a fluffy Van imagine just request here or privately on wattpad, I will need inspiration. There is just one rule though, NO SMUT REQUESTS. I will not take any smut requests, will not write any smut imagines or read any smut imagines. That is the only rule.

That's all for now I guess, keep a look out for the first imagine and just a thank you for the future!

💕💕

#imagines #van mccann imagines #van mccann #catb #fanfics #wattpad #please read!#thanking you #:)

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lovely-van2 · 4 years

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only you - van mccann

“I don’t really do relationships anymore. They never work, me being gone all the time. It’s too hard and we both end up hurt. Just doesn’t work.”

warnings: smut, language

word count: 5k+

notes: hello everyone! i’m new here and this is my first fanfic. i may end up editing it or reposting it in the future but enjoy!

“Van.”

Your voice was soft when you answered the phone that night. You had just fallen asleep a few minutes prior to his call, your room pitch black still, the only sounds coming from the street below.

“Sorry, I know it’s late, love. But I just got back. Are you home?” You closed your eyes, resting the phone against your ear, relishing in the way his voice rasped over the phone. You hadn’t heard it in a while.

He didn’t even ask if you wanted him to come over. He knew you did. Not that it was a bad thing or out of the ordinary - whenever Van was home from touring or recording or whatever else it was that rock stars had to do, he gave you a call.

You had met him at a bar one night a few years back, after one of his shows. At the time, you had no idea who he was or why he acted a little cocky when he first spoke to you, him expecting you to recognize him. But you liked the way he spoke, his laugh, the way he held his cigarettes. So you invited him back to your apartment for the night. You thought it would surely be a one time thing. Except it wasn’t. He took your phone number and within a few weeks called you up again, showing up at your front door with that sideways grin.

It was a casual thing, strings free. Just what you both needed. Van was a man of the road, designed for singing in front of thousands of people and touring for months on end. He had no reason to be tied down, no time for it. And you were in your last year of University, focusing on finding a job in the real world, not even a thought of trying to find a proper boyfriend.

So there was Van, someone you could call upon when you were upset or happy or just sexually frustrated. You saw other men occasionally and you knew he was with other girls while on tour but none of it really mattered. You had the perfect situation. Well, nearly perfect. You knew what you had with Van was sex and nothing more but the last few times you had seen him, you realized you were staring at him a little longer, hanging onto his words, almost sad to see him walk out the door. But you tried not to think about it.

A short knock sounded on your door, three taps like always. You switched on your lamp and rose out of bed, not even bothering to put pants on as you walked to the front door.

“Hi,” he said with a smile.

“Hi, Van,” you said, letting him in.

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

“Good, yeah. Been busy with school and everything. You?” You leaned against the door, watching as he shrugged off his leather jacket and tossed it onto your couch, slipping off his old ratty boots.

“Pretty good, just back home for a bit, we have a break in the tour for the holidays then we’ll be back after New Years.”

He walked toward you and put his hands on the sides of your face, pressing his lips on yours, not wasting any time. You sighed into the kiss, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch was so familiar, his hands rough against your jaw, his tongue tasting like smoke and mint, the slight scratch of his stubble. His hands dropped to your hips, his fingers nearly burning your skin as he pushed your t-shirt up slightly. You tugged at his hair which was getting a little long but actually looked quite good on him.

Van pulled away after a moment, his eyes dark. “Missed this,” he muttered before grabbing your hand and bringing you to your own room. You laid down on the bed, letting him crawl on top of you, hands going up your shirt right away, lips to your neck. You pulled your shirt off quickly, his necklace dragging across your skin as his mouth went to your breasts, leaving you only in your underwear.

You bit your lip, watching as he pulled away and tugged off his own shirt, throwing it behind him. His movements were rapid and needy as he leaned into to kiss you again, his hand rubbing over your underwear. You reached for his belt, unbuckling it and you nearly laughed as he struggled to pull off his jeans, tight as usual.

Van knew your body better than anyone. Over the years, he learned what made you squirm and what could make you scream. He knew every line, every mark, every curve of you.

You basked in the feeling of his tongue, fingers curving inside of you just like you liked. You tugged on his hair and moaned his name, knowing how much he loved to be praised. “Can’t wait anymore,” he mumbled against your skin, crawling up your body. You both watched as he pressed inside of you slowly, his head falling backwards, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck,” he muttered.

It had been so long since you had seen him you had forgotten what it was like. Forgotten how he would lift one leg up over his shoulder, then both, his hands wrapped around your neck, sweat glistening on his chest. You would choke out his name, “Van, Van, Van.”

Van always tried to make you finish first, almost as if it was a game to him. Maybe it was. And it usually worked. The feeling of his thumb rubbing over you and him inside of you was enough and you came undone, shaking underneath him. “Fuck,” you let out, squeezing your eyes shut. Van slowed down for a second to let you recover and locked eyes with you, as if to ask a question. You nodded slightly, teeth pressing into your bottom lip as he started fucking you harder, gravelly moans spilling from his lips.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered, his hands pressing you down into the bed. After a moment, he pulled out of you, spilling onto your chest. You watched as he squeezed his eyes shut, head tilted back, his mouth formed in an ‘o’.

He grabbed your shirt off the ground and handed it to you, letting you clean yourself off. “Fuckin’ needed that,” he mumbled as he flopped down on the bed next to you.

“Mhm, me too,” you agreed. And you did. You had just finished up final exam season and had been stressed out of your mind. “Are you staying?” you asked.

Van glanced at you, running his hand through his hair. “If that’s alright. Dead tired, dunno if I’d even make it home,” he said with a chuckle. You could tell he was exhausted, the circles under his eyes even darker than usual.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, rising out of bed to go to the bathroom. You went quickly and brushed your teeth. By the time you came back, Van was out cold, snores coming from his mouth. You laughed to yourself and slipped into bed next to him.

In the morning things were a little slower, both of you less desperate for immediate release like last night. You took your time. Riding him slowly. Him shoving your head into the mattress, pulling your hair. Letting yourselves enjoy it a little more.

You laid in bed as you watched him mill around, tugging his clothes back on, checking his phone. “Better get going. I’m heading to my parents later, so,” he said.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds fun.”

He nodded. “Mhm. Haven’t seen ‘em in a while so I’m excited.” He leaned down to kiss you quickly. “I’ll be home for a bit, so I’ll probably see you soon, then?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Bye, Van,” you said with a small smile which he returned. Then he was gone.

It went on like this for a few weeks while Van was home, one of you calling the other and him coming to your place, sometimes spending the night, sometimes not. You would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it. Usually when he came home, it was for a few nights at most. You rarely saw him this many times in such a short period of time and you were taking advantage of him being just a phone call away.

Then he started to stick around a little longer after sex, cooking you breakfast, maybe watching a movie, making you laugh. At night, he wrapped his arms around you, fingers ghosting over your skin as you talked about everything, upcoming things for Catfish, your plans for after school.

Every time he came over, he stayed longer, as if testing the boundaries. You didn’t ask any questions and he gave no explanation.

But then the holidays were over. Van left for tour again, leaving you back alone in your apartment. The night before he had left, he stayed at your place. You both lied there awake for a long time, your head on his chest and his arm around you, stroking up and down your arm. When he left in the morning, he kissed you at the door a little longer than he usually would.

When second semester began, you tried not to think about him, intending to focus all of your energy on your school work. But you missed him. You thought of the way his hands felt, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

You invited different guys to spend the night that you had seen previously but it didn’t feel the same. You texted back and forth occasionally, mostly just about his shows or your classes. But he was busy, each response taking a little longer than the last. You knew that it didn’t matter, that he’d be back eventually. You wondered if it would be the same.

Van didn’t come back until their tour was over, nearly four months later. When his name flashed across your phone screen, your stomach dropped.

“Hi, Van,” you said.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice even raspier than you remembered. “Are you busy?”

“No, not really, just watching a movie.”

Van sighed into the phone. “Love, would you be able to come pick me up?”

This surprised you. Since meeting him, you had never seen Van outside of that bar and then your place. You’d never even been to his house or out for a drink or anything. You liked keeping things confined to the walls of your apartment, like your own world.

“Uh, yeah, of course. Where are you?”

So you drove to the airport, turning the music up louder and trying to drown out your thoughts of what was to come. You pulled up to the curb, seeing him standing there, smoking a cigarette with his one small suitcase, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He peered into your window and smiled, dropping the cigarette on the ground before opening your back door and tossing his bags in.

“Hey,” he said, settling into your passenger seat.

“Hey,” you replied, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Sorry about this, turns out mum and dad are out of town and then I tried to phone a few other people but I guess they’re all busy,” he said with a laugh. He fidgeted around, playing with your radio, rolling the window down.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind. Um, where do you live again?” Van described it briefly, giving you directions along the way.

He told you all about the tour, his hands waving around as he told different stories and funny things that had happened to him since he had been gone. He told you about his favorite cities he visited in the States, where the best audiences were.

You drove for a while, not realizing that he lived quite a distance from the airport. When you finally arrived, you parked the car and waited for him to get out. He unbuckled his seat belt, climbing out the front door and grabbing his things from the backseat. He opened the front door again and peeked his head in. “You coming in?”

His house was nice but modest. It was messy and pretty apparent that whoever lived there wasn’t around much. Van tossed his stuff down on the ground, running his hands through his hair. “Mind if I have a shower?” You shook your head. “I’ll be back in a minute. Make yourself at home.”

You sat down on his couch, looking around at his things. He wasn’t one for decorations but he had a lot of records. His bookshelf was full of them, along with a vintage-looking record player. You ran your fingers across them, appreciating his music taste. You wondered how long it had taken for him to get this many. You heard a noise behind you and turned around to see Van in the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his waist “Tea?” he shouted to you.

“Yeah, thanks.” You sat at one of the chairs in front of the island, leaning your arms onto it. You watched as he put the kettle on, grabbing a couple mugs, admiring the curve of his back. “Be right back.”

He came back slightly more clothed, in a pair of underwear and an old band t-shirt. He asked how you liked your tea and slid it in front of you, then turned to search through his cupboards. “Got no fuckin’ food,” he sighed. “I’m starving.”

You took a sip. “We should’ve stopped somewhere. I didn’t even think about it,” you replied, feeling a little bad for him. He was probably so jet lagged and of course he was hungry.

He shrugged. “All good. I can go somewhere in the morning.” You both sipped on your tea, catching up a little more. Van told you about his plans for their next album already, already excited about some songs he had been working on. His face lit up when he talked about his band, his eyes glimmering. You could tell he just loved it, loved being on the road, the chaos of tour life, the feeling he got when he came up with a perfect lyric.

When he finally pressed inside of you, you could barely contain yourself. You had missed this feeling, the weight of him on top of you, how his lips formed your name. You had missed the cold feeling of his necklace tracing your skin, the way his hands felt around your throat, his thumb inside your mouth.

When you were finished, you laid your head on his chest, tracing your thumb across his skin. He smoked right there, his window cracked, trying to blow the smoke away from you. You thought about how lonely you had felt when he was gone, how good it felt to finally be able to touch him. And you thought about how much it was going to hurt when he had to leave again.

“Van,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“Hm?”

“I… can I say something?”

“Mhm, go ‘head.” You felt him shift and drop the butt of the cigarette into an old cup he kept on his nightstand. He settled back in, moving your hair off your shoulder, tightening his grip around you.

“I know that what we have is good. No strings attached, that kind of thing. But Van... I’d be lying if I said I don’t have feelings for you. I started to realize it when you came back around Christmas, and then fully figured it out after you left. I missed you so much while you were gone. And I… I know you have a lot going on, but I like you. I really like you. I like being with with you.”

You felt Van tense up a little. He sighed softly as you pulled away slightly to look up at him finally. He ran a hand down his face, closing his eyes. “Love, I’m sorry. I don’t know if I gave you the wrong impression or somethin’ but… I can’t. I don’t really do relationships anymore. They never work, me being gone all the time. It’s too hard and we both end up hurt. Just doesn’t work,” he said softly.

You nodded, pulling your lip in between your teeth. “Yeah, I understand,” you said, trying not to let your voice shake. “Yeah, it wouldn’t make a lot of sense, anyway. We both have a lot of stuff going on.”

Van’s eyes scanned your face, knowing you were disappointed but not knowing how to fix it like he usually could. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I like what we have, though. And it’s not that I don’t like being with you, I do. But, y’know, just not really in that way, I s’pose.” A tear fell down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away, more threatening to follow.

“Yeah, Van, I get it.” You pulled away from him and reached for your underwear on the floor, slipping them on along with your shirt. You stood up, looking for your pants.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’m gonna go home,” you mumbled, tying the knot on your sweatpants. You looked down at him in his bed, seeing how small he looked, how young.

“Don’t be silly, it’s nearly three in the morning, love.”

You shook your head, digging through the blankets to find your phone. “I can’t stay here, Van,” you whispered. So you left. You walked to your car, tears streaming down your face, hoping that maybe he’d run out of his house after you, explaining that he did feel the same and he wanted to try with you. But he didn’t. As you drove home, you hoped maybe he’d call you, begging you to turn around and come back to him. But he didn’t.

So that was it. Over the next few weeks, he texted you a few times, always at night, asking what you were up to, occasionally calling you. But you never answered. For a while, you looked at pictures of him posted online, keeping up to date with what he was doing, what the band was up to, projections for their next album. You listened to his voice every night, replaying his songs over and over.

Until eventually, you stopped searching his name. You unfollowed the Catfish accounts on social media, deleted their songs from your phone, trying to forget him. To forget the way he whispered in your ear, the way his eyes grew wide when he told a story, the way his skin felt on yours.

And it worked. You started seeing someone from your English class. Sam was nice and things with him were easy. He took you out to dinner and pulled your chair out for you, kissed you on the cheek after your first date. He called you the next day, already wanting to make more plans. He made you laugh and he always called you or texted you when he said he would. You were busy with school but you saw him when you could. You went out with his friends and he met some of yours.

“What are you up to, babe?” Sam asked over the phone. You were finishing up a paper that you had spent hours on. It was nearly midnight and your eyes burned from staring at the screen.

“I just turned in my Lit paper, finally. But I think I’m gonna go to bed,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

“Okay, sounds good. Love you,” he said.

“Mhm, goodnight.” He had told you he loved you a few days earlier but you the words got caught in your mouth when you tried to say them back. He was a little hurt of course, but you just told him that you’d never said it to anyone before and that it might take you some time to be able to say it back. He was understanding about it, like he was with everything.

You shut your eyes and leaned your head back in your desk chair, reaching your arms up and stretching. You jumped a little when your phone started buzzing. You answered it without looking, figuring it was Sam calling back about something.

“Hello?” you said. You heard some shuffling over the phone and what sounded like breathing. You furrowed your eyebrows. “Hellooo?”

“Love.” His voice came through your speakers softly, wrapping around your body, making you nearly drop your phone.

“Van?”

It was really loud on his end, like he was around a lot of people. You heard some more shuffling and then it was quieter. He sighed into the phone. “Hi,” he muttered. “Love, I - fuck,” he said, and it sounded like he dropped his phone. “Oops, sorry. Slipped right out my hand.” His words were slurring together, his voice a little deeper than normal.

“Are you drunk?” you asked quietly.

“Uh, mhm. Reckon I am. Too fuckin’ drunk, can’t even light my cigarette.” You could faintly hear the flick of his lighter. You knew you should just hang up, leave it alone. He was drunk and probably out at a pub with tons of people with no reason to be calling you. But for some reason, he had clicked on your name. “Christ, I am fuckin’ drunk but I’m sorry. I’m sorry I fucked everything up with us. Been missing you so much, can’t believe how I fucked it up. God, I miss your body,” he mumbled into the phone.

Your head was spinning. You knew you needed to hang up, now. But you just couldn’t. “Really?” you whispered.

Van sighed. “‘Course. Wish I was with you right now, but I’m stuck in fucking Leeds with some fucking girl who looks kinda like you, but not enough. She’s not gonna fuck me the same,” he breathed into the phone. “They never do.” He sounded almost sad now, his voice a little quieter.

“Van… I have a boyfriend now,” you said after a moment. He didn’t say anything so you kept talking. “We’ve been together for a few months. I’m sorry but-”

He cut you off, “I know, I fucking know. Spend every night looking at your pictures with him. Spend every night wishing it was me,” he said, his voice cracking.

You stood up, pacing around your bedroom. “You know, I gave you your fucking chance, Van. I told you exactly how I felt and you told me you didn’t feel the same, didn’t even give me a chance. And I was finally getting over you and then you fucking call me out of the blue like this, drunk and telling me you miss me?” Your voice grew louder, nearly shouting.

“I know, love. I fucked up,” he murmured. You heard his lighter flick again. “Fuck,” he breathed out. “Just need to see you. Wanna feel you.”

You shook your head, scoffing. “You’re full of shit. You don’t speak to me for months, only texting me when it’s late and you want sex, then you call me up only when you’re shitfaced because you want sex again. You can’t play with people like this, Van. It’s fucked up and it hurts, don’t you get that? I don’t want to fucking see you,” you said, your voice shaking.

Van exhaled. “I’m sorry I-”

You hung up, throwing your phone. Your eyes burned and tears threatened to spill and you let them, curling up in a ball on your bed. You sobbed for a long time, letting every emotion this stupid man had made you feel out, until you were out of tears.

In the morning, you woke up with a headache and your throat hurting. You looked in the mirror and nearly jumped back at how puffy your eyes were. You splashed some water on your face and tried to push any thoughts of Van out of your head.

You did your best to avoid thinking about him pretty much all day. You didn’t think about him as you ran errands. You didn’t think about him when a friend called, begging you to go out with them for someone’s birthday in a few days. And you didn’t think about him when you knocked on Sam’s door.

“Oh, hey,” he said, giving you a smile which you couldn’t return. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were coming over,” he walked inside, expecting you to follow him. You hovered by the doorway, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Sam,” you started. He looked back at you, confused, before walking back towards you.

“What’s up?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.

You sighed. “I can’t do this,” you whispered. “It’s not fair to you. I just think that I’m not really ready for this with you. I just… I don’t know if I can get to where you are, you know?”

He understood. He was upset of course, begging you to try changing your mind. But your mind was made up. You hugged him goodbye and left, knowing you’d never see him again.

A few days later, you woke up, remembering it was your friend’s birthday. You debated canceling but realized maybe it would actually be good for you. You got ready for the night, excited to go out for a change, excited to dress up a little. You hadn’t seen your friends in a while and thought some alcohol might be the cure for how you had been feeling.

You met up with your friends at your favorite spot, immediately ordering a double and a tequila shot. “Woah, you okay?” your friend asked jokingly. You just laughed. You had a few more drinks and you danced, letting loose for the night. Thoughts tried to creep into your head but you drowned them out with more alcohol. You laughed with your friends, catching up with them. You told them about your breakup and they offered to comfort you, but you brushed it off, not wanting to deal with it. You talked about your plans for the future, how you were excited about a job interview you had coming up for after graduation. You all sang happy birthday, snapping pictures throughout the night, dancing some more. You felt really good for the first time in a while.

By the time you climbed into a cab, you were fairly drunk. You told the driver your address with a little giggle. You checked your purse to make sure you had your phone and keys, knowing that you tended to lose one or the other when you had a bit too much to drink.

You thanked the driver and tipped him probably a bit too much. You fumbled with your keys, trying to get your hands to listen to your brain as you tried to unlock the door. You finally climbed the stairs, singing this song under your breath that you’d had stuck in your head for weeks but you couldn’t remember what it was, and then you saw him.

He was leaning against your door, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, tapping his foot. You squinted, trying to figure out if you were imagining things. He turned his head and saw you, his mouth dropping open.

“Van?” you said, confused. “What are you doing here?”

He licked his lips, looking at the ground and then looking back at you. “I know, I shouldn’t have just come here unannounced, ‘m sorry. But I had to see you,” he said, his eyes wide.

You rolled your eyes, pushing him out of the way so you could unlock your door. You walked inside, slipping your heels off and heard him close the door behind you. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of vodka from your cabinet. You figured you’d need it.

Van followed you in the kitchen, watching as you made a drink. “Where were ya?” he asked quietly.

You took a sip, then added a little more vodka for good measure. “It was my friend’s birthday, we were at Kelly’s.” You walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa, making yourself comfortable.

Van followed you there too, standing awkwardly. You took a long drink before setting your cup down on the coffee table and staring at him. “Why are you here?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He cleared his throat, sitting down next to you. He looked at you, his eyes tired, his hair an absolute mess. “Look,” he started, “I made a mistake. When you told me how you felt, I shot it down right away because I was scared. I’ve been with a lot of different girls in the past and I know how it turns out. Things start real good and all but after a while, it gets so hard when I’m gone for so long-”

“Yeah, and someone always gets hurt, I know. Thanks for telling me this again, Van,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Van grabbed your hand, licking his lips. “The thing is, none of those girls were you.” You looked up at him, jaw dropped slightly. He reached his hand up, tucking a piece of your hair behind your year. “None of them drove me crazy like you do. None of them made me laugh like you do,” his voice was so quiet, like he was scared to even speak. “They didn’t dance around the kitchen while they cooked breakfast like you. Or tell awful jokes like you. Or leave post-it notes around their apartment of things that make them happy, so they could like at them when they were feeling sad, the way you do. None of the girls I’ve been with insisted on sleeping with the windows open, even when it’s freezing out. They didn’t organize their records alphabetically and by color or hum my songs when they think I’m not listening and their hands didn’t fucking burn my skin when they touched me like yours do,” he said softly. Tears streamed silently down your face, Van’s holding your jaw gently.

“I know I fucked this up, and I made you feel like shit,” he said. “I don’t give a shit about what I said, about things being too hard. I don’t care. I want to be with you, I don’t fuckin’ care if it gets messy or maybe it doesn’t work out. I want you,” he finished, wiping away your tears.

No combination of words in the English language could describe what you were feeling. So you leaned forward and kissed him hard, letting your body speak for you. He sighed into the kiss, pulling you onto his lap. You had nearly forgotten how his tongue tasted, like mint and smoke, same as always. You kissed him as tears continued to fall down your face, and you tasted them against his lips but you didn’t care. He picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist and he carried you into your bedroom, setting you down on the bed gently.

He hovered above you, unzipping your dress carefully and sliding it off of you, then tugged your underwear off, too. You were totally naked, so vulnerable at that moment but you didn’t care. He dragged his lips across your neck, working his way down your body, wrapping his mouth around your breasts for a moment. He kissed down your stomach, his hands feeling every curve of your body, feeling the way you shook just from his touch.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your skin. “I fucking love you.”

When you slid down onto him, Van sighed, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around your waist. He buried his head in your neck, breathing you in, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “I love you. Only you,” he rasped, kissing your neck softly. You rode him slowly, wanting this moment to last forever, never wanting to forget how he felt against you, the way he made you tilt your head back, moaning his name. You knew at this moment you’d never be with anyone else. No one would ever be able to make you feel the way he did, the way he could make you laugh so hard you spit out your drink or the way he could make you shake from his touch.

“I love you, Van,” you whispered back. “So fucking much.”

You knew that maybe it was a bad idea and it was going to be hard, just like Van said. You knew that he would have to leave again, go back on the road, where he belonged. And you knew that you’d get hurt eventually because that’s what happened in life - there was no way around it.

But you didn’t care because Van was it for you. This man with his stupid crooked smile and childish sense of humor and habit of drinking too much. You didn’t care about any of it besides the most simple thing. The reason that people get out of bed every day, the thing you grow up believing is fake after your parents get divorced, what you read about in books but never can really be sure of until it happens to you. You loved him. You loved Van for everything he was and everything he wasn’t - and that was all that mattered.

#vanfic #van mccann #catfish and the bottlemen #catb #van mccann fanfic #van mccann fanfiction #my fic #van x reader #van mccann smut #vanfiction

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vantene · 4 years

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just a thought i had today during love jesus hour so here's this blurb you and van were getting ready for church and you guys get into some argument and it gets pretty heated and you're left super closed off and quiet and van is absolutely fuming and you two just stare at each other silently for a bit and he notices you're off and to avoid further conflict he says "let's just get going, yeah?" and you guys leave the house during the ride he has his hand on your thigh as usual but it feels wrong in that moment and makes you wanna crawl out of your skin when you're at church during the mass everyone is singing o come all yee faithful and it's just droning in the background and you feel very disoriented (you did during the entire mass) and you hear a ringing in your ears and you're eyes are darting kinda frantically between the alter and floor and anything in between and it gets so overwhelming and you push past the people in the pew and run out to the parking lot where you crouch down next to recollect yourself and van runs out after you you know he's angry bc he's yelling 'what the fuck?' and other curses at you and he slams his hand on the car causing you to jump stares at you with a look of disbelief because you guys live in a small town and everyone in that church knows one another and the older folk have known van since he was just a child and you just embarrassed him in front of everyone eventually the anger dies down but the tension is thick you're still super disoriented and now scared of van when you get in the car you sit in the back van shoots you a hurt look through the rearview mirror but you refuse to sit in the front next to him he knew he fucked up but your attempt at creating distance really nailed the feeling in the right place he tried apologizing in the car but you ignored it and looked out the window the rest of the day went by silently too you did all you could to stay out of van's way at home pretty much avoided him at all costs by the end of the day just as you were getting ready for bed van comes into your shared bedroom and says your name softly you can hear the pain in his voice he approaches you and drops to his knees he closes his eyes and rests his forehead on your stomach holding your hips he apologizes over and over "we need to work this out, y/n. i can't lose you. god, i can't lose you. please talk to me. i love you so much." he rambled you ran your fingers through his hair sighing softly and agreed to have a conversation about the events of the entire day

so ye anyway i can't write fanfics or anything very well but enjoy that clusterfuck i would love to make that into a proper oneshot just let me know if any of you want that and i will do my best to provide decent content

#van mccann #van fanfiction #van mccann smut #vanfic #van mccann fic #van mccann fanfiction #van mccann fanfic #catfish and the bottlemen #catfish and the bottlemen fanfic #johnny bond #bondy #benji blakeway #bob hall #catb

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greasyvan · 5 years

Text

Vanilla [A Van McCann Oneshot]

Rating: M. Actually it might be worse than M. I’m pretty sure this has earned me a one way ticket to hell

Word Count: 5k

Request: Not technically but y’all have been asking for this and you deserve it

Author’s Note: We’re all goin’ to hell for this

When Van came home from tour, it was habitual for the both of you to stay locked in your bedroom for a few days. You wouldn’t leave the comfort of the sheets, save to do the absolute necessities, like retrieve food or make cups of tea, or shower together. You had to get reacquainted with each other’s bodies, learn about all the new marks that had occurred while you were apart. Van would hold your thighs in his wide, calloused palms and brush his nose against the fading bruise on the inside of your knee. You’d press your fingers into the ridges of his spine and reveal in his skin. New bumps, scratches, marks that had been inflicted while he was away. You relearned the texture of skin so when he left again you could remember the feeling of his body.

It was on the fourth naked day when you decided it was time to rejoin the world. You woke Van with your lips around his shaft and your fingers laced in his. An hour had passed, you’d had your morning romp, and now a naked Van was laying between your legs with his head resting on your thigh. He stroked your skin absentmindedly, staring out the window into the outside world. Memorizing.

The light on his eyelashes were casting shadows on his cheek bones in a way that made your stomach hurt. He was too beautiful, you couldn’t help but want to capture the moment. You reached for your phone on the bedside table and opened up the camera.

“Hey,” You called softly. When his eyes flicked up to you you snapped the picture. “You’re so cute.” He laughed slightly and rolled onto his stomach and rested his chin on your lower belly, his arms around your thighs.

“Ain’t that my line?” You took another picture. Even better. He had a slight smirk, his eyes were dreamy. You hummed as he placed kisses on your stomach and across your hips all while you took pictures. Something in the air changed and the feeling went from sleepy and cozy to electric and needy. You whined as he shifted himself down the bed, keeping his arms around your thighs and licked a wet stripe up your center. You opened your legs wider as his tongue delved into you, Van’s mouth making obscene noises against you. An idea popped into your head and you held the phone up, turning on the video function and recording him.

“Say hi,” You whispered, his eyes opening and looking directly into the camera. He grunted and you could feel him smile against you. Van was never someone who was camera shy, in fact knowing that there was a camera on him made him even more eager to please than he already was. He released one of your thighs and pushed two fingers inside of you, tugging them upwards while his tongue circled your clit. You moaned loudly, never one to necessarily be quiet during sex, and wound your fingers into his hair. He relished in the little noises you were making as you squirmed beneath him, his long fingers pistoning inside you so hard and so fast it almost hurt, but in the best way possible.

“Fuck,” You yelped as he tugged upwards against your walls, a new sensation spreading through your stomach. You pulled at his hair and he hissed against your wetness, pulling away from you to catch a breath but keeping his fingers deep inside you. You let out a long, low groan as white spots spread across your vision and you felt your body go rigid. Your legs felt numb as heat exploded through your being and you dropped your phone on your chest. You shook for a couple of seconds and when you came back down to earth you were acutely aware of an unpleasant wetness against your thighs. When you opened your eyes Van’s chest was wet and he was looking at you, face half bewildered half smug.

“Did you just,” He trailed off, not really sure how to finish that sentence. Your eyes were wide like dinner plates and you nodded. “Have you ever done it before?” Quickly you shook your head and Van sat back on his heels, genuinely smiling. He was so fucking cocky. “That was... Yeah that was hot.” You didn’t know if he was referring to the video you both had just made or the fact that he was able to get you to do something you never thought you were capable of doing but you hummed in agreement. Van flopped down next to you after cleaning himself off as you rewatched the video and you could hear Van mutter something against your skin.

“Send that to me,” He requested, and you craned your neck to look at him. “What? Noises you make are somethin’ else. I’ll need it for when I’m gone again.” He took the phone from you, watching the video again and smirking when he made you come.

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus christ do you want a fucking metal.” The video was forgotten temporarily as he dropped your phone and rolled on top of you, pinning your arms to the bed.

“Actually I think I would,” He grinned and placed a kiss on your throat. “‘Van McCann, first lover to make you squi-’” You groaned and shoved him off, sitting up in bed, covers falling to your waist.

“You’re gross, that word is gross.” He reached out for you, pulling you back into his arms, not quite ready to rejoin the world yet.

A couple months later you were back on tour with Van and the lads. You and Van were supposed to be meeting Bondy and his new girlfriend, Nina, for dinner but after half an hour of waiting in the lobby they still hadn’t arrived. You suggested going up to their room and checking on them and Van agreed, grumbling about being hungry. Their door was slightly open and before you could tell Van to knock he was barging in, about to call out when he froze on sight. You peeked around his arm to see what was happening, your cheeks immediately heating up. Bondy had his back towards you, muscles taut and jeans around his knees. Nina was bent over the bed, arms pinned behind her back as she moaned in pleasure, back arching as Bondy slammed into her. Before they could notice your presence you wrapped your hand around Van’s bicep and tugged him out of the room, gently shutting the door behind you. You watched Van squirm for a moment, tugging his shirt down over his crotch and clearing his throat.

“Really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. His cheeks turned pink and he just shrugged. The elevator dinged, the doors opening up and you stepped inside. “Had no idea you were into voyeurism.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, the tips of his ears turning bubble gum pink.

“’m not,” He whined, looking at the buttons as they lit up.

You were having too much fun teasing him though. “All this time I had no idea you were a kinky little shit.”

“I’m not!” He insisted, practically tumbling out of the elevator into the lobby.

“Your crotch begs to differ there mate,” You cackled. “I’d always taken you for this vanilla guy, maybe we should take the time to explore your kinks babe.” You were laughing so hard you hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking and practically ran head first into him. He turned on his heel and smirked down at you.

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, love.” Your hands moved to his arms and you squeezed them.

“I have every intention to.” You pecked him on the lips and grinned back. A couple minutes later, after the sexual tension had dissipated a bit, Nina and Bondy emerged from the elevator looking disheveled and a little worse for wear.

“Sorry guys,” Bondy apologized. “This one likes to take her time.” Nina rolled her eyes as you and Van exchanged a knowing look.

“We’ve all been there,” You assured, linking your arm with Nina’s and grinning at Van. “Van and I are just glad you both came.”

Later that night you’d stumbled back to your hotel room a little drunk and immediately began disrobing.

“So what else are you into?” You called from the bathroom as you washed your face. Van’s head peeked around the door frame, eyebrows furrowed.

“Whaddya mean?”

You patted your face dry with a towel and removed your dress, letting it fall to the ground.

“What are your other kinks?” Van sighed and rolled his eyes.

“This again.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and flopped down onto the fluffy bed. “I don’t have any! I’m a regular lad! Your body is more than enough for me.” You leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom in just your underwear and smirked.

“That’s sweet,” You commented. “But you’re full of shit.” He groaned and burrowed himself under the covers, pulling the duvet up over his head. He looked like a child, pouting, face peeking out from the sheets as he frowned at you.

“What about you eh? What do you like?” You waved your hand dismissively at him before hitting the lights and slithering under the sheets next to him.

“Please, I know what I like.” Van raised his eyebrows, urging you to go on. “I’m a verse, which means I like to be the boss and get bossed around, depending on how I’m feeling.” You saw Van take his lip between his crooked teeth.

“Anything else?”

You snorted. “Choking, spanking, bondage, teasing, praise, water sports.” His eyes bulged to the size of saucers at the mention of the last one. You giggled. “That last one was a joke.” Van rolled his eyes and turned away from you.

“G’night Y/N.”

“I’ll figure it out,” You insisted, scooching closer to his and wrapping your arms around his middle. “Gotta keep my freaky man happy.” Another groan caused you to laugh and press a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Love you, you kinky bastard.”

The discovery of Van’s first perversion was completely accidental.

He wasn’t one to forget things, which is why it made it oh so much worse on the very few occasions that he did. He promised you. He said he’d be home by seven, seven thirty at the absolute latest, so you two could enjoy a delicious meal that you spent hours making and a night home together, which you’ve had few in the last month. You had confirmed with him in the morning before he left and he swore he wouldn’t miss your homemade pasta for the world. It was the first time you were breaking out the pasta maker since Bondy got it for you for Christmas.

You spent the day kneading dough and rolling it thinner and thinner through the machines until it was nearly paper thin and longer than both of your arms. When you had made enough pasta to feed your entire family as well as Van’s you cleaned up and ventured out into the garden to pick some fresh basil and oregano for the sauce. When that was made you cleaned the entire house top to bottom out of sheer boredom and went to the market to buy a fancy bottle of wine. It was shaping up to be a rather lovely night.

When six o’clock rolled around you texted Van for an ETA. When he didn’t respond after twenty minutes you called him and it went straight to voicemail. You frowned at your phone and decided to give him another twenty minutes. When that rolled around you shrugged and started making the garlic bread and boiling the water for the pasta. You set the table, lit the candles, made the plates, and waited.

By the time eight rolled around you were pissed and had already eaten two plates of pasta, half the loaf of bread and were three glasses of wine deep. Everything was delicious but that was beside the point. You glared at your screen and slammed your palms on the table, sick of watching the candles slowly disintegrate into nothing.

You could’ve easily fixed this situation. It’s not like you were worried about him or what he was doing. You knew Van would never cheat. He was just over at Bondy’s with the band and Larry despite having spent the last four months with them. You had Bondy’s number, Larry’s, hell you even had Bondy’s girlfriend’s number. If you wanted to contact him all you had to do was call one of them and ask to speak to Van. But you were in a new mood. You wanted to wait it out, see just how far he would push it.

You didn’t care that he was out, you didn’t care that he was late. The thing that irked you the most was the fact that he promised you he’d be there, and he wasn’t. If he wanted to stay out all night with his friends, you were more than welcome to the thought. Hell, you’d even join them. His fatal mistake were the words “I promise,” and insisting that he wanted to spend time with you. If he’d told you he’d be coming home at midnight you’d welcome the jingling sound of keys and his drunken stumble over the door frame. You would’ve welcomed him into your shared bed you’d been warming up, and you’d be more than happy to ride him to completion if he asked. But he kissed you when you told him to have fun and promised he wouldn’t be late.

Nine thirty rolled around and you had yourself a slice of cake before going up to the bedroom to exact your revenge. You left the table set, the candles burning, even cut him a slice of chocolate cake and set it next to his made up dinner plate. You took the bottle of wine with you though and sipped from it intermittently as you got undressed and redressed. The simple teal cotton dress and tights you’d been wearing getting swapped out for one of your more adventurous outfits.

Van had spotted it in the lingerie store before you had and held it up, giggling slightly.

You shrugged and said, “Looks like something the fembots from Austin Powers would wear.” His expression went blank and he was dragging you to the cash register so he could buy it for you before you could even think of protesting.

It was baby pink and made of light, gauzy fabric, every hem of the mid thigh length robe covered in a slightly lighter pink shade of faux fur. Van had admitted to you one night when he was drunk in the back seat of Larry’s car that the fembots turned him on. He loved strong women. Bondy and Larry teased him relentlessly about it. You paired it with an almost nonexistent red thong, sat on the loveseat facing the door, turned the lights off, and waited. There was a sheer yellow glow from the fairy lights twisted around your headboard, but other than that the room was mostly dark. You continued to let your rage fill you up, that and red wine.

It was almost eleven when you heard the lock on the front door jingle. You pictured him, unsuspecting as he turned around to lock the door as he called out for you. “Baby?” And then he’d see the made up plate, the dilapidated candles, the slice of cake and you heard him swear under his breath. There were a couple of minutes of silence before you heard clinking and pictured him pouring himself a drink. His boots were heavy as he climbed up the stairs, you could almost envision his pout.

The door cracked open the smallest bit. “Love?” He questioned, having not seen you yet. He fully swung the door open, apologies tumbling from his mouth when he stopped himself, taking the vision of you angry and mostly naked in the loveseat. He dropped his coat on the ground and slowly moved towards you as you watched him through your best seductive put pissed gaze. He fell to his knees in front of you and you uncrossed your legs, letting him get a peek of the fabric- or lack thereof -between your legs.

“Baby,” He practically whined, his palms coming to rest just above your knees. “I’m so sorry I forgot.” You sipped from the bottle, watching him with an almost bored expression. “I lost track of time, John and I were writing and...” He trailed off, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Let me make it up to you, eh?” His hands wrapped around the backs of your calves and he tugged you to the edge of your seat, licking his lips. Before he could descend between your thighs for a proper apology you grabbed a fistful of his hair at the crown of his head, stopping him. His wince made you let go, and you traced your fingers down the side of his skull, across his cheekbone, and along his jaw, tilting his face up so he could look in your eyes.

You leaned forward until your lips were at his ear and spoke, softly. “I don’t need you, Van Mccann.” You could hear him swallow at the brush of your lips. He wanted to look at your face to see if you were being serious or not, the words exceptionally harsh, but you kept your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, locked in place. “I have my own hands.” You let up the pressure just enough so he could see what you were getting up to.

Your hand was slowly rubbing circles on your clit over your underwear, the fabric quickly dampening. He swallowed again, his eyes flitting up to your face though he desperately wanted to watch your ministrations against what he wished he was kissing, what he wished he was buried inside of. Van’s mouth flooded with saliva as you released him and pulled your panties to the side, letting him get a proper view of your increasingly slippery play. You moaned, more for his pain than your pleasure, and slipped a finger inside. It felt nice, but you made sure to be extra vocal just for him.

“Fuck...” He gulped and rolled a fist over the hardness tucked in his jeans. He ran a hand up your freshly moisturized leg but you quickly swatted it away.

“No touching,” You softly commanded. He bit his lower lip so hard he could practically taste the blood and nodded. “You know...” You trailed off, slipping another finger inside with a hitch of your breath. “I was thinking, because you wanted to spend time with me, we could try something new.” Without warning you stood, knocking Van onto his butt before strutting over to your side of the bed and pulling the drawer open.

A few days after your discussion with Van in the hotel room, you were let loose in a big city all by yourself. The boys were doing an interview and acoustic gig, and you decided to do some exploring. In under an hour you found yourself outside of an adult store, smirking at your reflection in the black tinted windows.

After a quick discussion with the very kind woman behind the counter you left the store with a pair of red handcuffs and small pink vibrator. You returned back to your hotel and tucked the items in the bottom of your suitcase and you had all but forgotten about them until that moment.

You hung the handcuffs off your index finger and Van visibly gulped.

“I was gonna let you use these on me but considering your behaviour tonight...” You trailed off. “Take your clothes off and get on the bed.” Your voice was low and firm and Van obeyed almost immediately, hesitating for a split second.

You couldn’t help the butterflies that infiltrated your tummy at the sight of a naked Van resting on top of your clean white sheets. He was breathing heavy and flushed all the way down his chest, his erection standing stiffly upright, prominent and needy. He looked soft, vulnerable, ready. It made your mouth water. A part of you wanted to just get on top of him and ride him until you both came in an explosive crescendo, but a bigger, more sadistic part was going to enjoy what you had planned.

Van’s blue eyes looked practically black as he watched you climb onto the bed and straddle his lower stomach. You shot him a soft, reassuring smile before taking one of his hands and brushing your lips along the inside of his wrist, snapping the cold, red metal around it. His breathing hitched as you lifted both arms over his head and clicked the other cuff around his wrist, effectively restraining him to the metal headboard.

You brushed some hair from his wide blue eyes and ran your fingers over his parted lips. Your forehead pressed against his as you spoke. “If it’s too much, your safeword is grapefruit, okay?” He quickly nodded and you pressed a kiss to his plushy red lips. “Good boy.” He choked on the air in his lungs as you began your descent down his body. It was slow, maddeningly slow, as you stopped at every weak spot you knew Van Mccann possesed. The first spot was the conjunction where his jaw and throat met. You traced your tongue over the spot, reveling in the noises he was making already. You took your time, nipping and suckling and kissing at his soft flesh until he was keening and panting deep in his chest.

“Y/N,” He groaned in a voice you’d never heard from him before. You pulled away from your spot with a satisfied smirk and looked at Van’s face, nearly gasping in surprise. His pupils were blown wide and his forehead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His lower lip was chewed raw. He looked absolutely ruined. You placed your palm against his cheek.

“Oh sweetie, if you’re this wrecked already it’s gonna be a long night for you.” He blanched and swallowed thickly as you moved to your next destination, the slight dip in his chest, right beneath his sternum. You repeated your sloppy, teasing process here, as well as at both of his hip bones. By the time you were sitting between his legs Van was a complete mess. For the most part he let you work in silence, save for the occasional groan when you would sink your teeth into his flesh. You had an idea to get him to be more vocal.

At first you started by just tracing your finger up his inner thigh, under his belly button, and back down his other thigh, skipping over the angry red length that was leaking precum like a broken faucet. As you traced, you drew closer to his shaft, eventually gripping it at the base and giving it a solid tug upward. A struggled cry ripped through Van’s lung and you smiled, satisfied.

“There we go Baby,” You gave him another pull. You could feel the warmth and weight of his erection against your palm. “Let me hear you.” Your stroking became more regular, but still just as slow as Van thrashed against his restraints, the metal cuffs cutting into his wrists. “Do you want my mouth Love?”

“P-Please!” His hips bucked into the air, trying to find something more dense than your hand. He was doing so well and you wanted to reward him, but you thought about why you were in this position in the first place, and changed your mind. You leaned up to whisper in his ear, not stopping your manipulations as you spoke.

“Then you should’ve been home on time.” In a second you released him and completely lifted yourself from the bed, standing at the foot. Van looked like he was about to explode and a long deep moan erupted from his throat.

“Y/N, please, I’m sorry.” You placed your hands on your hips.

“I know sweetie. But you look so good like this.” With a swift tug you undid the ribbon holding your robe closed and let it fall off your shoulders, the pink fabric pooling at your feet. You quickly dropped your panties and clambored back onto the bed, sitting yourself right above his member and grabbing the vibrator. Clicking it onto the lowest setting you moved the buzzing head to your clit, a shudder rolling up your spine. Van watched you work with hooded lids as your hips started to jerk around in an attempt to quickly reach your climax. Your other hand, which was previously placed firmly on Van’s chest to balance yourself, moved behind you to grasp his heady length. Van cried out as you slowly jerked him while you ground yourself against his lower abdomen.

You could feel your end approaching quickly and you could tell by the way Van’s back was arching off the sheets that his was too.

“Van,” You breathed, searching for his eyes. When they finally met yours he offered you an exhausted smile. Despite this being a “punishment,” he seemed to be enjoying himself. “You’ve done so well baby.” You removed the vibrator to click it off and shuffled down his body so you were positioned right above his member. “And even though I’m still mad at you, I’m gonna fuck you.” He licked his lip and nodded once.

“Thank you.” With that you sank all the way down onto his cock, both of you hissing as your fingernails dug into the skin of his chest. You could feel his heartbeat through his length, pulsing and warm inside you as you waited for your strength to come back to you. You were both so close to the edge that you were sure it would take only a few minutes to reach the end so you sat, just enjoying him for a moment.

You gave an experimental roll of the hips, preening at the mewl that van emitted, and just like that the flood gates were open. Bracing both of your hands on his chest you ground and rolled and swiveled your hips like there was no tomorrow. Both your bodies were slick with sweat and the sound of your skin meeting and combined moans echoed around the quiet room. You were teetering right there at the abyss, so close your arms gave out and you let yourself drape over Van’s chest, your face buried into the crook of his neck. He took over then, bending himself at the knees to find steady grounding, and thrusted himself up into you until you exploded around him, messy and white hot.

It took a couple seconds for your head to stop throbbing and for you to come back down to earth and when you did you took note of two things: The first being that Van had stopped moving and the second being that your hand was wrapped firmly around his throat. Leaning up a little to see his face you could only describe it as dumbstruck.

“Sorry,” You murmured, pulling your hand away but he quickly began rambling.

“No! No, uhm,” He gulped. “I-I liked it.” You raised an eyebrow at him, a little surprised that he was so open to all the new things you were throwing at him, and then you remembered who you were dealing with. “Can you, uh, can you do it a bit harder?” And if your body hadn’t been completely spent you’d probably come again just from those words. You leaned down and pressed a bruising kiss to his mouth.

“Of course you kinky little freak.”

With both hands wrapped around his throat pressing firmly down you slowly began working your hips over him, his pale face quickly going red from lack of air, making his freckles stand out against the flush. It only took a few solid swivels before his eyes were rolling back into his head, his back was lifting off the bed, and his entire body went rigid as he reached his peak deep, deep inside you. He gulped air in as soon as you released him, panting hard while you cooed at him, kissing his face and chest while you waited for him to calm down. You ran your fingers through his damp hair to get it out of his eyes and when he finally smiled at you sleepily you pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth.

With a silent dismount you went into the ensuite bathroom to clean yourself up, returning with a damp towel for Van. You worked on unhooking the handcuffs and frowned when you saw bruises already forming under his delicate skin.

“Babe you should’ve told me they were too tight.” His head lolled over to look at you and he grunted out a word that sounded almost like ‘Sorry.’ With a shake of your head you wiped his forehead clean of sweat and cleaned up the mess made at his crotch. His entire body jerked when you touched his shaft and you giggled softly. You left the room to get you both some water and some pain killers for Van, pausing to pull his discarded shirt over your head. When you returned you could tell he was just on the edge of passing out.

“Y/N,” He mumbled. “‘M really sorry.” You helped him sit up and handed him the water and painkillers.

“I know.” You kissed him again. “You did very well. And now we know that Van Mccann isn’t just some boring vanilla rockstar.” You both got under the covers, letting Van be the big spoon. You were just about to fall asleep, absolutely spent, when he whispered in your ear.

“Next time you’ll be the one in handcuffs.”

#ASJLDAKSJDLJK SEE YALL IN HELL #van mccann #vanfiction #vanfic #van mccann smut #catb #Catfish and the Bottlemen #johnny bond #larry lau #benji blakeway #Bob Hall

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vanmccannyoudome · 2 years

Text

It had been a while. A while since she had been to a gig, strangers swaying against you in the crowd, the air damp. A while since she’d seen him, floppy brown hair and infectious smile. A while since he’d touched her, gentle yet burning as his fingers trailed across her skin. He’d been away, album promo and an arena tour, taking him around the world. Tonight was his first night back in the country in months. Her stomach had erupted in butterflies when the short text came asking her to come to the gig, and when her backstage pass was dropped off to her house by a guy in a beat-up van with an unkempt beard.

There he was on stage, surrounded by his bandmates in front of thousands of people. A sold-out arena. Dressed simply in black jeans, Chelsea boots and a black shirt, with the first few buttons left undone at the top. So completely at home performing. The songs, guitar and drum heavy belted out of the speakers, inciting the crowd to bounce. He crooned the lyrics, his voice lowering intimately and straining to belt out the fast-paced choruses. His voice wove lyrical stories, casting a spell on everyone, but most of all on her. She could swear he was trying to enchant her. His guitar was nestled between his arms and against his hips and she hadn’t realised it was possible to be jealous of an instrument.

The frantic music and flashing lights came to a halt, and the band moved backstage leaving only him and his acoustic guitar. The song was low, slow. His fingers danced across the strings and his voice dipped and curled around the notes. This was her favourite song. Written about another girl, of course, long before they’d ever met. The lyrics were so intimate, so gentle and showed a different side to him than she’d seen before. This showed him completely, irrationally in love with someone. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he sang, soaking up the echo of the fans singing his lyrics back at him. He squinted as he looked off to one side of the front of the crowd. Sure it was a coincidence that it was the side she stood; she didn’t allow herself to hope he was looking for her.

When they had met, it was clear he wanted a good time, some fun and laughs and nothing to stress about while he went off to live his rock and roll lifestyle. They had fun, lots of it. Drinks in quiet, back-alley bars followed by evenings in his place, or hers. A day or two here and there when he had free time or when she did. FaceTime calls late at night full of flirty banter, discussions about life, politics, music. But there had never been any promise of anything more, and she had never asked for anything more. Or rather, had never dared to ask.

Something about their connection, the distance and time apart, and this intimate song made her heart flutter as his eyes kept wandering back to that side of the crowd. If he was trying to catch sight of her, his chances were hindered largely by the bright stage spotlight and her petite frame in the vast crowd. The song came to an end, punctuated by a discreet smile, one familiar to her. She had seen it the night he first asked to take her home, as she sipped on her drink and her heart pounded. She had seen it on FaceTime when their conversation dissolved into comfortable silence laden with tension. She had seen it as they laid tangled up in his sheets, early morning sun spilling over his face as he twirled a strand of her hair around his fingers. This song was now dedicated to her, his smile confirmed it.

The band came bounding back on stage, playing some of their most popular songs, the music crashing and the crowd going crazy. She followed the instructions he had left her in their text conversation. Find this door, see this person, show them your pass. The look she received from the security guard who led her through backstage conveyed his thoughts with abundant clarity. She was one woman in a long line of women led along the same path. How many artists, bands had paraded women through here for a quick shag, a night of fun. She tried to take that look with a pinch of salt knowing full well they were just having fun, yet knowing full well she was not just a quick fuck. Had he brought other women back recently? Since they’d met? She shook that thought off.

The corridors were long, vibrating to the music coming from the stage. The security guard opened a door, and the sound was once again deafening. Surrounded by equipment, wires, people, she stood in a spot in the corner that she was directed to. Her heart pounding, knowing he was coming offstage soon. Nerves, anticipation, excitement flooded through her, causing tremors to run through her. She leaned against a large equipment box, only for it to move under her weight. Several people saw her almost fall and shot her irritated looks. She kept her stare firmly on the ground as her cheeks blazed crimson. A familiar guitar riff rang through the air, signalling the song and the set were almost over. Fuck. The sound of cheers rang through the arena. No drums, no guitars, no beautiful voice. Just the crowd.

Loud laughter and laboured breathing neared. She peeked up through her lashes as she saw a slender figure deposit a guitar in a stand. Goosebumps. Her hair stood on end; her heart was pounding again. She met his eye as he stood in front of her, blue eyes blazing, skin glowing, brown hair soaking wet and flopping over his brows. Stomach flipping, she subconsciously held her hand in front of her, not sure what to do. She was right there in front of him, a sight for sore eyes. Having craved her touch, even just needed to see the contours of her face in person for so long, he didn’t want to wait. And he crashed into her. Hands gripping her hips and lips colliding with hers. He pulled her closer until there was no space between them, kissing her roughly.

She giggled ‘Hey, V- ‘

‘Shh’ He interrupted brusquely, then deepening the kiss.

She melted into his hold, her feet feeling as though they were no longer on the ground. She kissed him back, allowing his tongue to battle with hers. She inhaled his scent of cigarette smoke and musk, feeling intoxicated. And Jesus, he didn’t know if it was just the adrenaline, but he could swear he had never enjoyed holding someone, kissing someone this much before.

‘Van- ‘She began, pulling away as she began to remember her surroundings, the people around her who were strangers.

‘Shh’ He cut in again, mumbling against her lips. His hands ran from her elbows to meet her hands, interlocking tightly. ‘Just kiss me’.

And who was she to argue? That’s all she wanted too in that moment. Then he was pushing her backwards, guiding her with his legs on either side of hers, hands and lips still locked. She giggled against his lips in between kisses. Her back was against a door while he reached around to push the handle. They were plunged into the icy night air, a shock after the hot, damp air inside. His free hand dropped down to her waist, then lower to the hem of her dress. Her spare hand grabbed his soaked, sweaty hair in anticipation. Her thigh burning where his calloused fingers roughly stroked.

They were in a quiet corner outside, lit by a bright white light on the brick wall above them. He backed her against the wall, breaking their kiss to move his lips to her neck. She held her soft groans in, between her legs throbbing almost painfully. He bit the most sensitive spots, the places he had spent a lot of time finding, sucking and then licking to soothe when it smarted. Her breathing grew heavier as his fingers ducked inside her dress and up her thigh. She was hyper aware of him and his presence, only vaguely aware that anybody could come outside and see what they were doing.

The fingers that had tenderly strummed his guitar earlier moved her underwear to the side with such swiftness she wasn’t ready for the contact. She gripped his hand tighter as he stroked her over her most intimate area, nudging her legs apart. He was focused on refamiliarizing himself with her, her sensitive spots. It had been so long since he had seen her, touched her that he was worried he’d forgotten how to make her tick. He needn’t have worried, if her tight grip on his hair and hand, and heavy breathing was any indication. They’d just had so much practice; he’d replayed all those moments over and over in his head until it was impossible to forget. And as he stroked her in all the right places, he could feel himself desperate for more, to be even closer to her. Her perfume, the scent of her shampoo cloaked his senses and made him dizzy with comfort and with desire. His fingers moved in slow, lazy circles at first, gathering her wetness. Gradually his circles grew faster and more concentrated and her legs began to feel weak. Pulling his body closer to hers to pin her to the wall, she got lost in his kisses and what he was doing between her legs. It took an unusually short amount of time before she could feel her orgasm approach. As he kissed just below her ear, she fell apart. He watched her face, so beautiful in agonising pleasure. He watched how he made her feel, how only he could make her feel as he carried on guiding her through the intense fireworks. She stiffened beneath him and then relaxed around him as he milked her orgasm.

Again, she wasn’t even sure if her feet were touching the ground, it all felt like it was spinning around them. She felt his fingers gently cup her chin and lift it up until her eyes met his. As her breathing started to even out, the look in his eyes made her tingle in anticipation of what she knew was to come. Before she had the chance to kiss him again, his lips were already on hers, not wanting to waste another second. Privacy? They didn’t need it. Hotel? Too far away. He knew he’d missed her while he’d been away, but this connection and tension was insane. And well, she’d always been crazy about him. Her hands crept down his shoulders, dragging along his torso, fingers playing with his belt until her palm met the bulge in his trousers.

She began to pull his belt from the belt loops, struggling when she came to the buckle. At her struggle he became frustrated and rushed to get the belt open, quickly followed by his button and zip. Pulling his member from his boxers, he sprang free from the restraint of his jeans, urgent and desperate to just be closer. And fuck if she didn’t want that too. He gripped her shoulders and spun her round quickly, so quickly she stumbled in her heels. Feeling guilty, he steadied her and placed her hands on the wall in front of her. She’d always been clumsy. She held her breath in anticipation, throbbing between her legs as he pulled her dress over her bum and slid himself along her slit.

‘Ahh’ She gasped aloud as he pushed inside her, him groaning into her ear at the feeling of her hot, tight wetness pulling him in. His damp chest and hair felt cold from being in the night air as he pressed himself against her from behind and she just wanted more. He pulled out slowly as she adjusted to the feeling of being full after so long, and began to thrust into her. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t gentle. He pushed into her roughly and quickly, pulling her waist length hair down her back so that her head didn’t hit the wall as he fucked her. She couldn’t hold in her gasps and moans, her whole body felt like it was buzzing but her core was being assaulted with pleasurable strokes over and over again.

He needed to see her face. The one he’d searched for in the crowd while singing his most intimate and heartfelt song. The one he’d longed to see when he was 7 hours behind on tour in the States. The one he was desperate to touch and kiss while he looked at her through FaceTimes. He pulled out of her, taking care to spin her around more slowly this time to avoid a broken ankle in those sexy heels. Pushing her back against the wall, he slid his eager hands down her sides to her thighs and squeezed, gesturing for her to jump. She did, and he lifted her up against the wall, legs around his waist as he pinned her tightly to the cold, rough bricks. She cried out as he slid inside her again. They locked eyes while he fucked her once again, hardly pulling out but rather thrusting in as deep as he could. She could feel the brick wall leaving scratches on her back, but she didn’t care, loving the roughness.

This wasn’t quick and dirty; this was raw and urgent. Their eye contact confirmed that. His eyes told her he needed her. This meant something, but it could not wait. Their unbroken stare was a catalyst, she cried out his name as he furiously chased his peak. The feeling of her soft curves and warm cunt around his member undid him. He groaned as he came, reaching the end. He jerked against her, squeezing her bum.

The silence was only broken by their panting as the leaned against each other for support, feeling spent. Somewhere in the distance, they heard a crowd chanting some of his songs. He chuckled into her hair.

‘M sorry I didn’t last long darlin’; it’s been a while ‘ant it?’ She just shook her head, it didn’t matter. He pulled out of her, as he had softened, and his fluid seeped down her thigh.

Giggling, she stepped out of her underwear, holding onto his hand for balance, and wiped away his cum with them.

‘What the hell do I do with these?’ She wondered aloud, looking around for a bin, or somewhere to dispose of the soiled underwear.

He laughed as he zipped up his jeans and did up his belt again, then held out his hand. Hesitantly she handed them over to him, and he slipped them into his back pocket. ‘Let’s find a bin back inside, yeah?’

She giggled and stepped towards him to follow him back inside the building. He held his arm out behind him for her to grab her hand, but quickly spun around to face her.

‘Oh- hello’ He said, remembering he had interrupted her with kisses when she’d tried to greet him. He blushed slightly, feeling a bit rude.

She looked up at him through her lashes, a smile spread across her face with a hint of adoration in her eyes. ‘Hi.’

‘It’s so good to see ya, thanks for coming tonight babe’ He said, remembering his charm and manners. He had just gone at her like an animal, the least he could do was make up for it now.

‘Thank you for inviting me. You were so good up there.’ She stared up at his face. His eye bags which showed his fatigue, but his eyes shone bright, wide awake. His hair was starting to dry into waves falling over his face. ‘You look good, Van. Tour suits you.’

She wished he didn’t have to be away so much, wished that maybe he didn’t love being away as much as he did. She wanted to say more, but held back, not wanting to make things too heavy. She’d always been too afraid to spook him, scare him off. He saw it in her eyes, the many questions floating around that she was holding back. He wanted to give her answers, he wanted to give her anything she wanted.

‘It’s been great. But you know, it doesn’t have that Mexican bar, so...’ There was more he could have said, more he wanted to say. Like how maybe he loved tour, but this time round he found that he didn’t feel so free when he was away. Like maybe he’d missed her.

She giggled at his reference to their favourite place to go for tequila and margaritas when they hung out. She stared down at his feet, nervous that meeting his eye would give away just how deeply she felt for him in this very moment, his presence overwhelming, the feelings washing over and consuming her. He saw her hide a smile and wished she would look up at him. He’d imagined that smile for so long. He noticed her skin broke out in goosebumps and she began to wrap her arms around herself.

Her slinky black satin mini dress, with its skinny straps did everything to accentuate the softness of her curves, but nothing to protect her from the cold. Even as a feeling of protective tenderness overtook him, he still couldn’t help but notice her hard nipples and wish he was sucking on them. Albeit in a warm room.

He moved behind her and wrapped his hands around her front, cloaking her in his natural warmth.

‘Let’s go inside, yeah?’ He murmured in her ear, and all she could do was nod.

***

The dim light above the door lit up as she turned the key in the cottage door and jiggled it while shoving it open. She knew the little knack to it by now. He followed her through the gate and up the garden path. He was pulling a large suitcase behind him while struggling with two duffle bags slung over his shoulders.

The empty cottage was cold, having been vacant for months. She reached to her left and switched on the hallway lamp, then pushed the front door wide open to make space for him to come in behind her. He pushed the front door shut and dropped the duffels and suitcase on the faded rug.

The house may have been cold, but being back there brought feelings of warmth back to her. The times she had stayed over, listening to music, watching films, fucking.

‘Why don’t you go upstairs while I turn the heating on?’ He suggested, resting a hand on her waist and stooping down to place a soft kiss on her shoulder. The butterflies that had been there since the moment she saw him earlier in the night went crazy. She nodded, and headed up the narrow stairs.

The fourth step creaked loudly, bringing a smile to her face. They would always take care to avoid that step if they came in late at night so as not to wake up his housemate Larry. Larry had chosen to go to a bar with the other guys after the gig, saying he couldn’t wait for a beer. She suspected he really was going to give them some privacy in the cottage. She navigated her way across the landing in the dark, pushing the last door to the right open. She could hear Van downstairs opening and closing cupboards. She moved across the room to turn his bedside lamp on, but tripped over something on the floor, probably a shoe. She cursed as her toe throbbed and hobbled to the bedside table, switching the lamp on. The light revealed a messy floor, clothes and shoes strewn across the carpet. The bed was roughly made, with a couple of records sat on the covers. She smiled as she pictured Van packing last minute before tour, in a rush because he’d spent the night with her.

‘There should be some clothes in the second drawer if you wanna get changed’ He called up the stairs to her. She responded with a thank you and kicked off her strappy heels, placing them under his wooden bed frame.

She opened the top drawer in his dresser, and found a pair of boxers at the back of the drawer which she knew he never wore, and an oversized flannel shirt. As she slid the shirt over her head, inhaled the musky, woody scent of Van, with only a hint of cigarette smoke. Spotting a pair of thick white socks in the drawer, she slipped those on and set about closing the curtains and fixing the bed. Van was bound to crash from the post-gig adrenaline rush and jet lag soon, and she thought he might appreciate if she cleared his floor quickly.

The bedroom door opened, and he appeared with two steaming mugs. ‘Sorry I’ve not got any milk for tea so it’s instant hot chocolate instead’ He smiled and handed her a mug before setting his own down on a bedside table and kicking his boots off. He put on a record- The Kooks- then sat next to her on the bed while she moved underneath the covers.

‘Thanks’ She sighed contentedly as she sipped the hot drink and sank further under the covers. His stomach flipped at seeing her in his home, so comfortable and looking like she belonged in his clothes.

As they drank their hot chocolate, he began to tell her stories from tour. His favourite gigs, his least favourites. The sights he had seen, the laughs with the lads. She stared at him while he talked, loving how animated he became and fascinated by the stories he had to tell.

‘Larry won’t stop goin’ on at me though, cos there was this one night, they swear it was the best night of the year. So we went to this right wicked bar in New York and this girl Emily- someone Bondy met a few years ago- brought her friends over. But I missed a lot of the night. They said they think they broke some world record or summat’ He chuckled, but his face told her there was more to the story.

‘Well, it sounds like you had a really good time while you were away.’ She was equal parts happy for him and jealous of his time that all those other people and places got. She set her mug down onto the floor and rolled over, resting her elbows on his chest and looking up at him through her hair that fell forward on her face. He looked beautiful from any angle, but from here she could see his long, dark eyelashes perfectly. She could see the slight smudge of mascara under his bottom lashes.

Looking down at her, Van thought this might be his favourite view of her. Aside from her being naked underneath him. ‘Yeah, it was great, mind.’ He hesitated, considering his next words carefully. He was usually confident, reckless even, with his words. This though, was new territory. ‘I missed ya, though.’

She looked down at his necklace, began twirling it between her finger, unable to look him in the eye. A hint of a smile that she was trying to fight broke out on her face. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I… missed you, too.’ She had, of course. She was just still so scared to show how she felt about him, not wanting to mess things up and lose him.

‘Yeah?’ Humour coloured his voice, his lips matching hers in a subtle smile.

‘Yeah.’

She huffed a quiet laugh and dipped her head down to try and conceal her blush.

‘How much?’ She was sure he was teasing her now, trying to draw things out of her that she was, rather pathetically, being too shy to reveal. ‘A little, or a lot?’

‘Ahh’ She groaned. ‘A little, tiny bit’. She held her hand up, indicating with her fingers the little bit she was talking about.

‘Oh really?’ He was teasing again, but decided to keep pushing. ‘But see, I missed you more than that. Quite a bit more actually. Thought about you a lot.’

Her stomach fluttered. Was she picking up the right vibe? Or was she overthinking? Fuck it. ‘I missed you. Loads. And I’ve been thinking about you, too.’

This conversation was painfully slow and awkward. But his heartbeat was picking up pace, feeling as though she might feel the same as he did. Grow up, he thought to himself.

He placed his hand under her chin and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear so he could see her face more clearly. Her hazel eyes looked more brown than green in this light, which he knew she would hate but he thought they were perfect. Her top lip had a scar that was only visible in dim lights like this. He wondered how he could have ever had any doubt whether he wanted to commit to a relationship with this woman. The way he saw it now, he didn’t have a choice.

‘Babe, I think this is something more than just fun, for me. Do- I mean, what d’ya think?’ He was twirling a strand of her hair round his fingers, watching her eyes intently.

Her grin made his heart beat faster, but in a good way. She leaned up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. It was cheesy as fuck, but they grinned as they kissed. She ran her hands through his hair, she’d missed that feeling. And fuck, he gripped her waist, hidden beneath his clothes, which hung from her body in the sexiest way possible. She felt him pull her all the way on top of him, deepening their kiss. This time, it was slower than right after the gig. It was lazier- no, not lazy. It was them taking their time, drawing the moment out. Exploring again.

He lifted his shirt higher up her back, running his hands up her spine. Further, around her ribs and up to cup her bare breasts. He began rubbing around her nipples softly, loving the soft moans it elicited. She pushed her chest further into his hands. Breaking their kiss, he lifted her arms in the air. Slowly, teasingly, he ran his hands down her arms, trailing down her ribs until he reached the hem of the shirt. He pulled it over her head and threw it somewhere across the room. Van wasted no time leaning in to suck a nipple, toying the other one with one hand and peeking up at her face, angelic and beautiful.

She placed her knees on either side of him, naturally, instinctively moving her hips to grind against his crotch. She began to unbutton his black shirt, slowly revealing his chest. She pulled back and lifted off of his lap so he could sit up and take the shirt off. She worked on unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. There was no slow and sexy way to take off his skinny jeans, he jumped up and removed one leg first, hopping while pulling them off the other leg. She kicked off her (his) socks and then took off the boxers she wore.

He playfully shoved her back on the bed, making her squeal and laugh. The got tangled in each other, kissing and laughing, feeling each other’s bodies properly for the first time in more than 6 months. They’d both been fantasising about being able to do this for so long. And they were both so ready.

He hooked his arm under her leg and positioned himself at her entrance, marvelling at her naked body, even better than he remembered, even better than the late-night fantasies. As he pushed inside, he realised he’d missed that little gasp she did every time, the way her nose and brow scrunched up. She wrapped her legs around him as he pushed into her, slowly. This time wasn’t like all the other times before, it wasn’t even like the time earlier. It was so much more. This time, all the emotions that had been building up from the last 6 months, even the last year or more. Since the moment they met, this connection and intensity had been building.

She had known he didn’t want to commit to a relationship, and she hadn’t pushed for it because she had been having fun, liking where it was going. He knew he wanted to spend as much time as possible with her but had been so stupid, not wanting to commit to her. It was just he had seen relationships fail because he wasn’t always around, and there were always women and drugs and late nights. None of that mattered. He’d been falling for her before he left for tour. He’d thought it would kill him to leave her that night. Realising that he wasn’t interested in women and late nights the way he was before, he’d rather call her, wait for her call. And this time round it was more than he would have imagined.

He thrusted hard, but slow. Keeping the pace, wanting it to last. The sex was always good, but she could have sworn there was something this time that made it as good as it could get. His stare made her body buzz again, like an out of body feeling.

She gently pushed his chest back, until he was sitting up. She climbed onto his lap and sat down on him, wrapping her hands around his neck. Keeping their stare unbroken, she began to ride him just how she knew drove him crazy, slowly, steady rhythm.

‘Fuck… just like that’ He groaned, gripping her bum as she bounced. His groans spurred her on, wanting to make him feel good. ‘Ohh, that’s it, babe.’

She kept going, feeling him so deep and hitting that angle just right. As he chased his orgasm, he started thrusting up into her. Soon, they were both gripping each other tightly, matching each other’s pace.

‘Ahh, Van’ She moaned into his hair, as their peaks came closer and closer. The sound of skin slapping, the bed frame squeaking and both of them moaning echoed through the room, through the whole cottage.

She exploded first, tightening around him and pushing herself further onto him. He cried out at the sensation of her wrapping around him. Then he cried out as he came undone, tugging on her hair.

They sat like that, her on top of his lap with her legs wrapped round his torso for a moment. He broke the silence first. ‘I love you’.

Her heart skipped a beat. She should probably see a doctor at this point, with how irregular her heartbeat was around him. ‘Pillow talk, Van.’ She teased, not wanting to get her hopes up. She already couldn’t believe her luck at him wanting to be with her- only her- she was afraid he was getting caught up in the moment, the passion and saying things he wouldn’t mean tomorrow.

He gently lifted her up from his lap and laid her back on the bed. Feeling his cum run down her legs again, she asked ‘What did you do with my underwear?’ with a laugh.

He laughed ‘Fucked them in the kitchen bin. Hold on here a second.’ He left the room for a few moments, still naked. He returned with a damp towel and a smile, coming to gently wipe between her legs, then throwing the towel in the laundry basket.

He threw himself back on the bed next to her, holding an arm out until she lifted her head and rested it on his shoulder, nuzzling in.

‘I meant it, ya know.’

‘Will you mean it in the morning?’ She hated how insecure she sounded. She never wanted to be that girl; she wasn’t that girl. She just needed to know it was real.

‘I’ll love you tomorrow, and the day after that, and for as long as you’ll have me. I wouldn’t mess with you about that. I’ve fucking missed you this whole time. I love you.’

She couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. ‘I love you, too.’

‘So, you wanna give this a go then?’ He was stroking her shoulder lazily. And it felt like this was where they were meant to be. ‘Cos I’m all in.’

#catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #catb #vanfic #vanfiction #van McCann fanfic #catb fanfic #catfish and the bottle men fanfic #smut #van x reader #van McCann x reader #the balcony #the ride #the balance #smutty fic #Van McCann #Van McCann fanfic

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you-andthebottlemen · 7 years

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36 -

I have combined two requests for this fic as I am not 100% confident with my smut writing. Also the second request is from an anon who originally requested it from @storiesaboutvan . So thank you anon for passing your request on to me! Hope this is okay, sorry it's kinda short!

For any smut requests I receive from now on I will be passing them onto @mintyvan as she is incredible! And not just at smut. Check her out!! X

I feel so awkward about posting this oh man, smut is not my thing. I feel like it reads really awkwardly?? Idk.

Request: “hello! this isn't necessarily smut and idk how you feel abt writing smut but could you do a fix where *the reader* gives van a lap dance? like something intimate/sensual :)”

Request: "Okay not sure if this smut counts as kinky but hear this: Van seated on a chair, hands tied on his back. Therefore, he cannot touch the reader. She undresses him and herself, she's a tease. Obviously, consensual. Like they've been a couple for a long time and decided to try new stuff."

******

You still remembered the first time you had sex with Van all those years ago in the untucked sheets of his tiny mattress that sat in the corner of his little bedroom at the BnB, hoping no one heard you. It was messy and chaotic teenage sex that was full of bad moves and awkward sounds, rushed actions and heavy breaths, teeth and tongue and everything in between. It was completely ungraceful and not at all poetic but it was passionate and it was the closest you and he could be physically and that was something profoundly important to the both of you.

One night, you and Van were curled up together in the bath like yin and yang, sat facing each other. You were laughing and flirting like there was no tomorrow and were treating yourselves to chocolate dipped strawberries. As the flirting escalated, you began to take turns lustfully detailing every little thing you wanted to do to the other. Between giggles and blushing cheeks, something that you loved you and Van still got with one another, you had both agreed it was time to change things up a little; try something new. Something sexy, intimate, sensual...the works. Van left it up to you to decide what that was.

While Van dried himself off after the bath, you’d drawn the curtains in the living room and cleared some space and set up a chair. You had an idea and weren’t sure if it’d work, but Van, who was unaware of your plan was a more than willing participant. You led him delicately by the hand into the room and sat him down on the chair. He followed your guidance, your heart was racing. Would he be into this?

“Okay so you know how we said we should spice things up a little? I have an idea...”

“Babe, I’m up for anything,” he replied, looking up at you, his eyes swimming with excitement. All these years and still a moment didn’t go by where you weren’t mesmerised by all the ways he looked at you.

You pulled his t-shirt over his head, your fingers trailing ever so slightly along his skin as you did so and threw it on the floor beside you. You then pulled a black ribbon from your back pocket and crouched down behind the chair. Your plan was to tie his hands so he couldn’t touch you; you’d tease the absolute shit out of him.

“Wha...?” He mumbled as you softly pulled his arms behind the chair.

“This is okay yeah?” You asked as you tied the ribbon around his wrists; ribbon because you didn’t want to hurt him.

“Yeah,” he replied in a husky voice. He was starting to get it.

You stood up and stood in front of him, a smirk plastered to your face.

“Wait here,” you said, blowing him a kiss. His chest puffed up and down in a deep breath. Men are so weak, you laughed to yourself.

You skipped out of the room and quickly changed into some simple black lace lingerie. Something sexy but not over the top. You looked yourself up and down in the mirror and even applied a little lip gloss which was totally out of the norm. Van didn’t care how you looked, least of all during sex; he always thought you were beautiful. But you were excited by the thought of exploring unknown territory with him so you felt like doing just that small thing for yourself too; the lingerie and the lipgloss.

You entered the room with a newfound sense of confidence and an aura of sexuality that teemed off you. As you entered from the door behind Van, he struggled to turn and look at you.

“Fuck, y/n...” he breathed as you strut past him; you knew you looked sexy. His eyes raked over your body slowly. He was taking in every inch of you as if he were memorising this moment and you could see his eyes grow hungry. It filled you with confidence and satisfaction to see him focus on every detail of you like that.

“You like?” You asked in a flirty tone as you stood between his legs, pushing them apart and resting your hands on this thighs, leaning into him.

“Do I ever...you look so fucking good,” he responded, licking his lips impatiently and staring longingly into your eyes.

You moved your face closer to his as if you were going to kiss him but instead of doing so, when you were millimetres away from his lips, you tilted your chin upright a little and looked down at him. The eye contact created a buzz of tension between you; that in itself was a turn on. You then moved your face to be by his neck, gently trailing your lips along his skin but not quite kissing it, breathing out warm air and sending shivers down his spine.

“Do you want me?” You whispered seductively into the hair by the nape of his neck. You could feel the muscles of his arms tense as if they wanted to vigorously break free from the ribbons already.

“Yes,” he shuddered beneath you.

“Well you’re gonna have to wait,” you smirked, standing up again. It felt like pulling apart two magnets that were longing to snap back together.

Van watched you with a pained look as you went to turn the light off and began striking matches. The crease of his brow and forehead told you he was struggling already, bless him. You carefully but quickly lit a dozen little tea light candles you’d placed around the room earlier, to set the mood. Van’s eye’s followed you wherever you went and you made sure to keep your eyes on him too over your shoulder. You couldn’t deny how sexy he looked right now. He sat slightly slumped in the chair, arms of course still bound behind his back and his lip bitten between his teeth. His hair was ruffled, messy after the bath and hanging into his eyes, no shirt and just in his worn black jeans with the band of his underwear peaking above. You licked your own lips unconsciously as you checked him out. Desire was inked into his face and the tension between the two of you was excruciating.

Once you’d lit the candles, you went back over to Van and slowly pushed between his legs again. The candles, being the only light in the room, created a warm and romantic ambience to the place. The flames made yours and Van’s skin glow a golden orange and the reflection in his eyes was heavenly.

This time you began to plant painfully slow kisses down his neck, sucking ever so slightly. You could feel him grow hard beneath you and a muffled moan rumbled in his chest already. You smiled against his skin and ran your hands over his body while you kissed now across his collarbone, taking your sweet time. He tipped his head back and his leg bounced in anticipation and probably frustration at not being able to break free and run his hands over you too. Van was always about giving, touching, feeling. Being unable to properly interact with you and your body was unnatural and painful for him, but still just making him want you more. Crouching, you moved your hands to his hips, running a thumb along the waistband of his underwear. You looked up at him, biting your bottom lip as you began to unbutton his jeans from down below. Van exhaled strongly.

“Christ y/n,” he whined, his mouth hanging open slightly and you grinned, pulling the jeans off down his legs.

You threw them aside impatiently and eased yourself onto his lap, straddling him. You traced your fingers up and down his arms softly, watching as goose bumps erupted under your touch. Van’s chest began to move up and down faster as he struggled more. You sat back into his lap, straddling him tighter, squeezing your legs into his hips. You then ran a finger down his chest, stopping just underneath his belly button and between the band of his underwear.

You reached for your bra strap and tucked your thumb under it, snapping it down on your skin. Van jolted ever so slightly at the sound and you smiled. His eyes were now glued to your chest, which was exactly what you wanted. You almost wished you could stop and take a photo of the look on his face.

Carefully, you ran your fingers over the bra, its lines and its lace. His eyes trailed your fingertips. It was one of those bras with the clip at the front so in one swift motion, you undid it and let it fall down your arms into the crease of your elbows, hanging. Van’s eyes widened at the sight of your exposed body. He looked as though he’d never seen you before; like it was the first time all over again. That in itself drove you crazy. You let the bra fall to the floor, residing amongst the pile of Van’s discarded clothing. You wanted more than anything to forget this whole thing and just pull him straight into bed with you.

But you didn’t give in that easily.

“Don’t you just wish...you could touch me...” you said quietly with a slight moan for the effect as you took your breasts in your hands and squeezed them gently, running your hands over your chest and down to your hips. You did what Van wished he could, but wasn’t able to do.

At that, he physically shifted under you, rocking the chair and whined, letting out a breath; he needed you. Now.

Just when you thought Van couldn’t take anymore, you leant into him with your arms around his neck that was now flushed pink and you could see the vein protruding from his skin. His necklace clung to his chest, sticking to the sweat. You began to gently grind on him and kiss his neck, nibbling at his earlobe. He let out a deep groan you felt the heat of his breath on your skin. The whole plan was to tease him, making him crumble; but you were struggling too. You underestimated your desire and you were aching for him. But you wouldn't even let yourself kiss him. You rolled your hips against his body and began to breathe raggedly. The two of your were quietly moaning in sync and your whole body felt like it was on fire you were so turned on.

"Untie me y/n," Van growled, almost begging. You pulled back and looked at him; he had small beads of sweat on his forehead, his hair was ever so slightly damp on the tips. His lips were bright pink from him biting and licking them so much. You shivered at the sight of him.

You couldn't control yourself anymore; you crashed your lips onto his and firmly pressed your chest against him. You were both slicked in a thin layer of sweat and you ran your hands desperately through his hair. Both you and Van were beyond the point of teasing being a turn on, you stood up and felt your underwear completely drenched. As you frantically untied the knots around Van's wrists and he was visibly shaking in the chair. Once the ribbon was loose, he pulled away violently and stood up, knocking the chair to the ground and pushed you against the closest wall. He grabbed your face and kissed you deeply, running one hand down your body hungrily, as if he were trying to make up for the lost time.

“Fuck...” you moaned quietly.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Van rasped with a slight laugh between kisses.

“That was the point,” you breathed.

You melted under his touch and your back arched as he wedged his knee between your thighs. The tension between the two of you spiralled out of control and before things escalated any further in the living, you guided him urgently to the bedroom as if you were about to implode unless you and he became one.

#Catfish and the Bottlemen #vanfic #van mccann #VanFiction #Van Smut #smut #van mccann smut

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thousandfourhundreddays · 5 months

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Just cleared out my inbox because I wanted a totally fresh start requests wise, so here a reminder that my requests are open!!!❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

#matty healy #van mccann #mason mount #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy fanfic #van mccann imagine #van mccann x reader #van mccann fanfic #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x reader #mason mount fluff #mason mount smut #catfish and the bottlemen #the 1975 #van mccann smut #matty healy smut

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your-divine-ribs · 2 months

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Private Dancer Part 1

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: brief drug use, Y/N is a lap dancer, a brief account of a sexual assault (not graphic) // Part 2 is hella long but will get it uploaded soon xxx

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

The loud bass emanates through the thin walls of the dressing room. Girls rush about, scantily clad or completely naked, frantically looking for items of clothing or rushing to perform. Glossy red lips and heavily mascara-ed lashes, sky-scraper heels and barely-there lace, the products of fantasies for the lecherous men gathered outside.

You'd worked at the club for a year now. When you auditioned and were offered the job as a dancer you promised yourself it was only temporary, simply a way to pay yourself through your final year of university. But you'd graduated three months ago and here you still were, several times a week, parading yourself like an object for the customers, wrapping yourself around the pole or tantalising in private dances. Your family and most of your friends knew nothing of your sleazy double-life but the handful that did were disappointed in you. They said you were belittling yourself, losing dignity by playing up to the customers' sordid wet dreams, but they didn't know the half of it. They didn't know how it made you feel. When you were up there on the stage you felt powerful, desired. You were in charge. The men could look but they couldn't touch, you were completely in control.

It's a Saturday night much like any other and the club is packed, full of customers eager to fulfill their desires. You sigh to yourself, appraising your reflection under the harsh fluorescent strip lighting in the dressing room, turning this way and that. You're wearing a black lace underwear set with intricate detail, hold-up stockings, and the highest heels that crazily enough are impossible to walk in but easy to dance in. And mostly importantly they show off your best feature, your long slender legs.

A loud wolf-whistle goes up and you turn to see your friend, Cayley, looking at you with a cheeky grin. "I would!" She chuckles.

"Yeah well, you'd fuck anybody so coming from you I won't necessarily take it as a compliment!" You tease, dodging her as she playfully swipes at you.

"You love me really!" She grins, then you watch as she delves into the cup of her silky red bra, producing a small plastic bag of white powder. "Little pick me up before you go on?"

You shake your head. "Nah, I'm good. I'm already feeling pretty confident tonight. I've finally managed to pull off that tricky pole move I've been practising for weeks. Gonna wow 'em tonight!"

"Suit yourself!" Cayley shrugs and proceeds to tap a small amount of coke on to the nearby surface, using a credit card to chop it into thin lines. "You're lucky you know. There's some good customers out there tonight, probably gonna be big tippers."

"Oh really?" You say, not really interested, leaning into the mirror to titivate your hair. All the customers are the same to you, just faceless men who you don't really see as individuals. It's easier that way. You can just go out there, perform your ass off and collect your tips without even giving them a second thought.

"Yeah... some band apparently... they played a show at the arena tonight..."

"A band?" Your interest is piqued, and you turn towards your friend, waiting for her to elaborate. Someone playing at the arena must be pretty big...

She looks back at you blankly. "Oh I don't know... you know I hate that kinda music. Mick told me the band name but I forgot. It was something weird... what was it again? Catfish something... I don't bloody know!"

Fuck...

"Catfish and the Bottlemen?" You almost squeal, your mouth going dry.

"That's it... d'ya know 'em then?"

"Yeah I fucking know 'em!" You cry, your heart starting to beat that rapidly you feel faint. "They're only like my favourite band of all time!"

You can feel a flush rising steadily up your body, your mind teetering on the edge of panic whilst you pace. You can't do it, you can't bloody do it. You'll go to pieces, probably stumble and fall.

"What's the problem?" Cayley says, as nonchalant as ever. "Hey... you might even get more than an autograph tonight, eh?"

She gives you a lascivious wink, loaded with suggestion, rolling up a ten pound note.

"Y/N! You're on in 3! Get your shit together!" Mick, your boss calls out from the doorway.

"Oh shit!" You mutter, feeling your legs start to tremble with nerves.

You suddenly shoot a hand forward, snatching the rolled up bank note from Cayley's hands. You definitely need a bit of assistance on the confidence front tonight. You dip your head down, snorting up a thin line of the coke, wiping your nose and shaking the tension out of your arms.

"You ready?" Cayley looks at you with an expectant grin.

You just nod, heart pounding, head spinning. "As I'll ever be."

A quick glance in the mirror, then you step through the door and into the short corridor that leads to the side of the stage. You can hear clapping and a few cat-calls as the last act comes to a finish and you try to steady your breathing as you see one of the other girls making her way backstage.

"It's a big crowd tonight... good luck Y/N," she smiles as she slips past you.

You're on.

You hear the opening bars of your song and take a deep breath, slowly moving forward, eyes fixed on the silver pole in front of you. You daren't look out into the crowd for fear of recognising a band member.

You reach out for the pole, wrapping your fingers around the cool metal. The steady, slow beats of the music fill your head and start to pulse through your body as you swing yourself around, coming to a stop with your back to the pole, slowly sliding down, running your free hand down over your body.

You hear a rumble of appreciation from the table to your left and glance over, smiling at the middle-aged men in suits that are sat there, keeping your eyes on them as you slide up and down the pole, moving your hips to the beat.

You're just turning to swing around the pole again when you catch sight of the table directly in front of you and your heart starts racing wildly. There's no mistaking those faces, you've been to enough shows and watched enough interview and gig footage online that you'd recognise them anywhere. Bob, Benji, Bondy... and Van.

It occurs to you how surreal all of this is. Just weeks before you were in an audience of 15,000, watching the band on stage, screaming out their lyrics at the top of your lungs. Now here they are in this comparatively tiny crowd, watching you perform. And they're certainly watching. Four pairs of eyes taking all of you in as you sway and writhe around the pole. You're in the zone now, nerves melted away, putting on the show of your life.

Your eyes lock with Van's for a long moment as you slide around the pole, coming to a rest at the foot of it with your legs splayed suggestively. A spark of satisfaction shoots through you as you see his mouth fall slightly agape and you hold his gaze as you run your hands sensually up your stockinged thighs, smiling to yourself as you watch Bondy lean in to speak to him and he can't tear his eyes away. You finally look away, rising to your feet, throwing your head back and moving your hips in time to the music, grasping the pole to twirl around it once again.

All too soon the song comes to a finish and you peel yourself away from the pole, gratified to hear the appreciation of the audience, sure you've earned yourself some decent tips and maybe a few private dances later in the evening. That's where the big money can be made. It definitely isn't your favourite part of the job, you aren't able to keep your distance from the customers, it's just you and them and although they're under strict orders not to touch you've had to fend off drunken groping hands before. Security have even been involved on more than one occasion. You know some of the girls offer 'extras' too, but that isn't your style.

You allow yourself a quick glance over at the band's table before you duck backstage, noting a pair of cool blue eyes still trained on you. You hold Van's gaze for a few seconds before you slip away.

"So... were they watching?" Cayley's waiting with an eager expression back in the dressing room.

"Yeah..." you breathe, fanning yourself with a hand. "Fucking hell Cayley they were all there. And Van, the singer was staring... like really staring. Oh my god I think I'm gonna die!"

Cayley giggles, shaking her head. "Well don't drop dead just yet! You won't get any tips that way. Go on... get out there! Work your magic!"

She starts ushering you towards the corridor which leads to the bar area and you practically stumble on your heels.

"But I've not even re-touched my make-up!" You protest.

"No need. You look bloody gorgeous! Now go... before some other lucky girl gets in there first!"

The bar area is dark and it takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust after the harsh lighting of the dressing room. There's lots of customers in tonight and this part of the evening involves you taking drink orders over to tables, maybe catching a customer's eye so he'll be tempted to splash out on a private performance. You scan the room, locating the table where the band are sitting, and are just starting to head over when the feel of a hand on your arm stops you in your tracks. It's Mick.

"Y/N, you have a private dance already," he grins. "You put on a hell of a show!"

Damn! You're sure that one of the other girls will end up waiting on the band's table all night if you don't take your chance now. You crane your neck to peer past Mick, just making out Bondy's hat.

"But... I was just..." you protest, but Mick cuts you off.

"No buts... come on. Booth 4. The guy was very insistent that he wanted you."

You sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that you've missed your chance, already steeling yourself at the prospect of a sleazy, middle-aged guy leering over you. "Okay, okay I'm going..."

You make your way back to the corridor you've come from, locating Booth 4 and pushing through the door. A pause, a deep breath before you grasp the thick velvety curtains which open out into the small room... only to find Van McCann sitting there, eyes a little wide with an awkward smile on his lips.

Immediately your pulse races and your nerves bristle as you walk forward, trying to show poise and confidence even though your inner fan-girl is practically having a cardiac arrest.

"Errr... alright love?" He offers, looking every bit as nervous as you feel, which surprises you somewhat. In interviews he comes across as such a self-assured person, and when he's up on stage he practically oozes confidence from every pore.

"Hi... it's errr... Van right? I... umm ... I've heard some of your songs," you stumble over your words, crossing over to the music controls as a distraction so you don't have to look directly at him.

"You're a fan?" He says in a hopeful tone, and you can hear the grin in his words without looking at him.

"No... not really..."

Crap... what are you saying? You curse yourself inwardly. You've been so preoccupied in not coming across as star-struck that you probably just sound plain rude. You scroll through the tracks on the small screen, purposefully still not looking at Van.

"Oh... oh right," he says, his tone a little flat, then he pauses. "So... what's your name?"

Now you allow yourself to look at him, using the same line you use every time someone asks you this very question. "I'm Candy... but you can call me whatever you like tonight..."

Van shifts in his seat, letting out a nervous little laugh. "That's not your real name though... is it?"

You just smile at him, taking a surreptitious deep breath to try and calm your nerves as the opening beats of the slow, sultry music start to fill the air. "Did you come here to talk... or to watch me dance?"

You can feel your confidence slowly starting to trickle back now as you step out so that you're facing Van, the routine you've performed countless times flowing through your head and into your body. It's like muscle memory.

"I... errr... I've never done this before," he suddenly blurts out, and his obvious show of nerves just bolsters your own confidence. "You know... had a private dance."

As he sits there fidgeting in his seat he looks a world away from the charismatic performer you witnessed up on the stage a few weeks previously. You place your hands on your hips and fix him with an even gaze. "Just sit back... relax... and enjoy the show."

As if on cue, the steady beat of the song changes pace, the signal to start your routine. You tip your head back, raising your hands up to run them over your body, swinging your hips, slowly sinking down on to your knees. Van watches on, seemingly mesmerised as you plant your hands on the floor and toss your head back before starting to crawl across the floor towards him, your movements sensual and feline.

"Christ..." you hear him utter under his breath as you reach him, rising up slightly to place a hand on either knee, pushing his splayed legs even further apart, your eyes flicking suggestively down to his crotch.

Your fingers travel upwards, gripping his thighs as you rise fully on to your feet until you're leaning forward on a level with him.

"Please tell me your real name," he says, his eyes locking on to yours. God, they're striking close up. You've always thought that when you've seen pictures of him online, but in person they're even more captivating.

"Why d'ya wanna know?" You purr, moving even closer, placing your hands on the back of the seat near his head, pressing your body into the space between his legs.

"I just... I just... wanna know. You're bloody gorgeous ya know..." His voice hitches a little as your body comes into contact with his, and you push into him even harder.

"I can't tell you. It's not real life in here... it's just a fantasy," you whisper into his ear as you roll your hips into him. Then you pull back slightly, maintaining his hungry gaze. "I can be your fantasy tonight..."

You're on a roll now, feeling energised by the desire in his eyes, enjoying this far more than you probably should. You grab on to the collar of his shirt, bringing your face close to his, so close your lips almost brush.

You wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. His lips look full and soft, parted just a little as he looks on in awe. His tongue flicks out to lick his lower lip as you sway in front of him. Of course you'd never dream of kissing a customer... until now.

"I know I don't even know you but I'd love to kiss you right now," he breathes as if reading your thoughts. As he speaks his fingers curl around your hips.

You pull away instantly, placing your hands over his and sliding them back on to his lap. "Nuh-uh, that's not how this works. You can look but you can't touch."

"It's like bloody torture!" He complains, his eyes slipping down to roam over your body where his fingers are forbidden to go.

You step slightly away to allow him to appraise you further, running your hands seductively over your frame once again. "Sorry but those are the rules..."

A cheeky grin appears on his face as you step back close to him, this time planting your knees on either side of his upper thighs on the seat, coming to a rest fully straddling his lap. "Can't we like... just bend the rules... just for tonight?"

"Sorry Van..." you smile down on him, satisfied when you feel his body shudder a little as you press yourself flush against him.

You wouldn't normally get quite so close but you're feeling a little reckless, spurned on by his obvious enjoyment and your attraction to him. As you roll your hips against his and he lets out a small groan your mind starts to wander. Maybe just this once...

No! Pull yourself together Y/N! You don't even know this guy! You met like five minutes ago!

You lean right in, your lips grazing his neck and you can hear his breathing getting deeper and more erratic. God, being this close to him is making you lose your inhibitions. Your hips are undulating at an escalating pace almost like they're moving of their own accord.

"Fuck..." Van moans, hips twitching beneath you. He's definitely fully aroused now, you can feel it with increasing certainty as you feel his stiffness through his jeans.

This only makes you drive your hips even harder, moving in purposeful waves, the friction on your own body making you gasp as shivers of pleasure start to radiate through you from your core.

All of a sudden you feel Van's hands on your hips again and his grip is harsh this time, fingers clutching at you, bringing you to a standstill.

“You gotta stop!" He says urgently, his voice a strangled kind of groan.

You quickly lean away from him, slightly concerned and you're taken aback. His face is flushed and his eyes are glazed over with lust, he's even got beads of perspiration on his forehead where his hair's pushed back. Despite his obvious excitement his expression is uncomfortable. Have you gone too far? Your customers are usually left begging for more, not pleading with you to stop.

"I'm sorry!" You blurt out, and by some timely coincidence the music starts to slow and fade out, prompting you to rise up off the seat and move back.

Van's hands fall into his lap and he squirms in his seat, looking down before he raises his gaze to you. "Don't apologise... please... it's just... errr... shit!" He looks away again, screwing his face up, then you watch as a small grin emerges, slowly spreading. "Thought I was gonna lose control there for a moment... if ya know what I mean!"

Realisation floods you. "Oh! Oh right! Don't worry about that!" You reassure him, wanting to giggle but not really sure whether that's appropriate.

"Sure you're used to that though, eh? That was really something."

His smile is wide now, mischievous, and you find you're smiling too. You can't help it. You've just made Van McCann nearly blow his load AND he's fully dressed. Your inner fan-girl is practically doing a victory lap.

"Yeah... I mean no... not really... I mean... oh god I don't know what I mean. You've embarrassed me now!" Without your dance routine to hide behind you're a bundle of nerves, all of a sudden faced with one of your idols, blushing furiously.

Van stands, awkwardly adjusting his clothing which makes you both laugh, and he's got a hopeful look in his eyes. "So... since we're... errr... a little better acquainted now do I get to know your real name?"

You hesitate, hearing Mick's words in your head.

Never, and I mean NEVER, give out your real name or any other personal details. You do not want any crazies tracking you down at home, believe me!

But he's not a crazy. He's Van FUCKING McCann for god's sake. And he wants to know your name. He likes YOU. The realisation sets off a spark inside you that floods your whole body, conjuring up thoughts which you probably have no business thinking. I mean he's only asked for your name, not your phone number.

You're aware that you're grinning like an idiot nevertheless, just about to open your mouth to speak when there's a sharp rap at the door and Mick's voice booms out. "Next dance, Booth 6... five minutes!"

Disappointment sinks in you and you're not the only one. Van's face visibly falls before he plasters a smile back on. "Damn! I should have just booked you for the whole evening I guess!"

"I'm sure you have much better things to spend your money on!" You giggle, a little shyly, then you throw caution to the wind, stretching out a hand to him. "I'm Y/N by the way."

Van's smile makes your belly flip as he reaches for your hand, and instead of shaking it he raises it to his lips and plants a small kiss there.

"It was really good to meet ya," he grins, and then he hesitates like he's about to say something, but Mick's at the door again, calling to you, and he looks down.

"I'd better let you go then," he says, edging closer to the exit. "Let that other lucky fella spend some time with you now."

A mild panic shoots through you as you realise that Van probably thinks that you give other customers the same intimate treatment he's had and you don't want him to think that. But then as you watch him duck through the door you immediately dismiss the notion that he might be bothered about you in that way. I mean, why would he be? He was just after a quick thrill tonight and you delivered it. End of story. You watch him go.

Your next dance is for a balding, overweight guy who’s easily old enough to be your dad. Your heart sinks as his eyes trail over your frame as you enter the booth and you detect the cloying smell of body odour as you move closer. You force a sweet smile as he asks your name and you repeat your usual line.

"Mmm... Candy... you're so sweet baby," he coos, his hands raking up and down his thighs.

You take a deep breath, hiding a shudder, before you start to perform your usual dance with much less enthusiasm than you did for Van, keeping a small but definite gap between your bodies as you gyrate in front of him. Something's changed. Usually you can clear your mind, performing your routine flawlessly, feigning a seductiveness which drives your customers wild. They'll be so caught up in their little fantasy that you're hot for them when the reality is that your mind is actually focusing on something completely mundane like running through chores that you need to do or what you're going to cook for dinner the next day. Now all you can think of is how you'd rather be anywhere else than here. You feel suffocated.

"C'mere Candy baby," the guy drawls, and as he speaks you feel his fingers grasp hold of your hips, trying to pull you down on to his lap.

You immediately go to push his hands away, but he's surprisingly strong and he's not backing down, he just grips you tighter.

"No touching, you know the rules!" You cry, trying in vain to prise his fingers away.

This isn't the first time this has happened and you know it certainly won't be the last, and just that thought alone fills you with a kind of despair. All of a sudden you don't feel desired and powerful, you just feel tired and degraded and more importantly really pissed of. And not just pissed off. Fucking livid actually.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" You yell with vigour, surprising yourself and the sleazy man, but he doesn't back down, further taking liberties, one of his hands sliding between your legs.

That's it!

Your knee connects with the man's groin and it's hard enough that his face contorts and his body folds as he cries out, cursing you loudly. You reward his insults with a slap across his face, delivered with force. Then before he has chance to recover from the shock of your retaliation, you hastily make for the exit, pushing through the velvet drapes and flinging the door open. You barrel through the door with so much impetus that you slam straight into another figure in the corridor. It's your boss, Mick.

"Bloody hell Y/N! Look where yer going! Hey... aren't you supposed to be dancing?"

"I've had enough Mick!" You cry. "I'm going!"

Mick looks shocked and annoyed. "But your shift's not over yet. We've got a list of punters wanting a private dance after your performance. You can't just walk out!"

"Watch me!"

At that moment the door of Booth 6 swings open to reveal the guy from earlier, red-faced and fuming, one hand holding his injured groin and the other pointing at you accusingly. You know Mick won't give him the time of day. Customers not obeying the rules do so at their own risk, but you don't wait to see what ensues. You're already storming down the corridor, making for the dressing room.

"Y/N! What's up? You look upset!" Cayley comes rushing over with concern, thrusting a glass of what looks like vodka at you. "Here, have a drink!"

You don't accept it although you'd like nothing more than to knock it back. You just want to get out.

"I quit!" You shout out loud enough to carry across the whole dressing room, and this causes a few of the girls to look up, but the majority look disinterested. In this line of work it's not unusual for girls to come and go.

Cayley tries to talk you around but you've made up your mind. You grab your bag of clothes, not even bothering to get dressed and slipping into your faux fur coat. Then you're making for the corridor and the exit of the venue, leaving behind the dark, sweaty atmosphere and pushing through into the cold winter's night.

Read Part 2

#private dancer #catb imagines #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann x reader #fanfic #vanfic #smut

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catb-fics · 3 months

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Red Part 3

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: sneaky smut, cheating, Van and Y/N are bad people but it’s hot (sorry) 🫣

Story Masterlist Main Masterlist

The last thing you wanted was a situation where you and Van were left alone. And yet here you were. The two of you. Definitely alone.

"Well... this is fucking stupid," you snap, going to walk past Van into the corridor but he counters your movement, stepping to the side, blocking you.

"Hold up, I think you owe me an apology," he says stonily.

"You called me a bitch!" You shoot back, considering trying to push past him but you know by his stance that he's not going to let that happen.

Everything about him is confrontational. He doesn't have a large build but his height alone means that he looms over you... and as for the way he's looking at you... There's anger there but there's something else simmering just beneath the surface. Something that makes your pulse race and your whole body feel hot.

"You heard Larry... he says we need to talk."

"I've got nothing to say to you!" You retort, taking a chance at moving forward, roughly shouldering Van and to your surprise he relents, moving aside to let you pass.

He doesn't leave you though. You hear the sound of his boots on the kitchen floor, heavy steps as he trails closely behind you.

"So what... are we just going to ignore it?" He says, and although you don't look back, you can feel his presence closely behind you as you step to the kitchen counter, reaching for your bottle of wine.

You can't explain it but he exudes some kind of magnetism. You can feel the pull now, a low kind of tug in your gut, urging you to turn around but you don't, finding a glass and filling it with wine instead, hoping it will dull your senses which just seem to be heightened whenever he's around.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, immediately following it up with a large mouthful of wine.

"I think you do."

He steps closer, close enough that you can feel his body heat. Your thoughts go to last weekend and how you felt him pressing into you in the kitchen. A part of you yearns for that again and you hate yourself for it.

"Van... just cut the crap. We don't like each other, so let's just agree to stay out of each other's way, okay?"

"You really want me to leave you alone?"

Even as he says the words you feel a stirring somewhere deep inside, the version of you that you've been trying to keep hidden. It's awakening now, imagining him ghosting you, no more loaded glances across crowded rooms, no more featherlight touches when you brush past each other in the corridor. Hidden exchanges which you try to tell yourself are all in your head but you know in reality are far from that.

"Yes... I want you to leave me alone. I mean it."

The words leave a sickly taste in your mouth and you wash them down with even more wine, aware that the more you drink the more your resolve might weaken but you're not thinking straight.

"Do you though? Do you really mean it? If you do, turn around and say it to my face. Look me in the eye and tell me..."

There's a long pause before he speaks again.

"Tell me that you don't want me."

Fuck... there it is.

No more veiled comments. No more talking in riddles. Your head spins and you grip the edge of the kitchen counter tightly for support, screwing your eyes shut.

It's out in the open now and it hangs in the air like some kind of dangerous hex, threatening to take hold of you in its spell if you dare to acknowledge it. But what choice do you have?

You open your eyes, blowing out an exhale between pursed lips, trying to steady your breathing. Now is your chance to end this. Tell Van to stay far away from you. Tell him exactly what you think of him for even entertaining the thought of betraying his lifelong best friend in such a brutal way.

You turn around, hesitantly, steeling yourself, chanting a silent mantra in your head to just tell him to leave you be, but when you come to face him the words just catch in your throat. You swallow, hard, raising your gaze to look at him directly, those cool blue-green eyes that seem to captivate you somehow.

"Well...?"

He raises his eyebrows questioningly, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips which look plush and full and pink. A wicked part of you asks how they might feel pressed up against yours.

"I... I don't... want you," you say, slowly, dismayed that there's little conviction in your words, so you dig deep, searching for some anger that you can use. "I mean how can you even suggest that I do? I'm with Larry and I love him. And he's your best friend for fucks sake. What the hell's wrong with you?"

Now you've said the words out loud it just seems all the more immoral. You feel furious at Van, but you're even more livid with yourself for getting into this situation in the first place. You could have shut this down a long time ago but you didn't. You were too busy enjoying the heat of his gaze lingering on you, relishing the feeling of being desired by the one person who was strictly off limits.

He's forbidden fruit. But god... you just want to take a bite.

"What's wrong with me?" He chuckles low with an edge of disbelief. "Don't put all of this on me Y/N. I've seen the way you look at me. Don't play the innocent. You want this just as much as I do."

This inflames you. "Don't flatter yourself!" You blurt, full of scorn. Your hands clench and unclench at your sides, itching to lash out at him again.

His grin widens as he shakes his head, ignoring your denial. "You know you look pretty sexy when you're mad, like a little wildcat!"

He steps forward and you counter his movement, pressing yourself back into the counter. He was close before but now your hips are practically touching.

Those hips... You imagine how they'd feel, naked, clashing with yours.

STOP IT Y/N!

You're sure Van can read your mind from the knowing look he's wearing and heat rises to your cheeks. He moves his hands forward so that he's gripping the countertop on either side of you, effectively caging you in. Your heart practically leaps out of your chest.

You know what you should do. You should walk away. Plant your hands firmly on his chest, push him back and walk away. But you don't. You just stand there, letting the tension simmer unbearably, your mind in a spin.

"You're fucking infuriating, you know that? This is all a game to you isn't it? You just don't give a shit about anything! Hold on... you actually think this is funny don't you? Is that it?"

"Nuh-uh." He shakes his head. "Not funny. Not funny at all. In fact I've never been more serious about anything in my life."

His eyes lock on to yours and they're mesmerising. You can feel yourself melting under his gaze. One of his hands raises up to your face, two of his fingers brushing gently over your cheek. Your knees feel weak as your legs knock against the cabinets.

"Van... don't..."

Your voice is barely a whisper, more of a plea than a command and Van ignores it, his fingers trailing down to rest under your chin which he tilts upwards, ensuring that you can't look away.

"I don't think you want me to stop..."

"I do..."

"Prove it then..."

Your eyes flick down to his mouth as you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lower lip. When you look back up his eyes are firmly on your lips too. It's so quiet in the kitchen all you can hear is both of your deep breathing. You want him. You want to kiss him. You want it so bad you can almost taste him.

BUT WHAT ABOUT LARRY?

Your mind is blaring at you but you're powerless to resist. It's like you're entranced as Van leans in, he's now only inches away, his breath warm on your face. If you closed the gap your lips would be on his.

Van moves at the exact same time that you push up on to your tip toes and your mouths connect. It's feather light, they barely brush but you both hover there, eyes wide open watching the other's reactions.

"What if Larry comes back?" You whisper, and your gut twists as you digest the fact that this is your most immediate and biggest concern, not the fact that you've just crossed an illicit line that there's no way back from.

You hear Van swallow, hard, his breathing deepening as he raises his other hand to your face, cupping it gently now, his eyes burning with a hungry fire.

"He won't be back for at least ten more minutes... do you realise how much damage we could do to each other in ten minutes?"

FUCK...

There's not even enough of a pause for you to take a breath this time. Van's lips are on yours in a fraction of a second and this time he's not gentle. His mouth is warm and intoxicating, his tongue swiping the seam of your lips demanding access. You grant it to him, sighing into his mouth as you finally let yourself go. The relief is incredible and your mind spins away from the fact that what you're doing is wrong.

How can something that's so wrong feel so goddamn good?

He kisses you with passion and you respond fervently. The taste of him, his breath hot in your mouth, the way he dominates the kiss, it's everything. Your body reacts autonomously and your hands shoot forward to curl around his hips, drawing him in. He has one hand on the back of your head, his fingers wound tightly through your hair like he can't bear the thought of you pulling away. Not that he needs to worry. You feel like you could carry on like this all night, drowning in him. His body's flush against yours, pushing you back hard against the counter.

Eventually he breaks away, catching your bottom lip in his teeth before he pulls back, his eyes darkened with lust.

It hits you then. Even as you feel the pulse of desire throb between your legs you realise the enormity of what you've done.

But it doesn't stop you from wanting him, if anything you just crave him all the more. Self-loathing floods you and you turn it on Van, trying to resist.

"I still fucking hate you," you say sharply.

Van smirks as he watches you with hooded eyes, in no way bothered by your comment.

"And you're still a bitch," is his simple reply, and he lifts a hand up to your shoulder, hooking a finger under the strap of your dress, easing it slowly down until it's hanging loosely around the top of your arm. "But that doesn't mean that I don't want to fuck you..."

His words should enrage you but they just flood your lower body with heat. You do nothing whilst his finger dips down to the neckline of your dress, pushing lightly inside, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. He holds you there in his gaze, a sly smile curling his lips as his fingertip grazes your skin, moving slowly, tracing over the tops of your breasts. You feel your nipples pucker under the fabric of your dress as he skims the top of one. Your breathing hitches and his smile grows.

"I could bend you over the kitchen counter right now. What d'ya say? No one would ever need to know anything about it."

STOP IT Y/N! STOP IT BEFORE YOU GO TOO FAR!

Once again your mind is screaming at you to stop but your body is on automatic pilot, driven by the desire that's now flooding between your thighs. You go to squeeze them together, but one of Van's legs slides in between yours, parting them. He pushes his hips into yours and the sensation of his body pressing against you almost makes you lose control.

"We can't do this," you say, and you can hear the arousal in your voice, deep and breathy. "We can't..."

"Yes we can." He cuts you off, his fingers straying even lower, lightly brushing your stiffened nipple. You let out an involuntary moan, face flushing at your obvious need. "This is just between us okay? We can do whatever we like..."

He emphasises the word and your mind immediately clouds over, the illicit fantasies you've been trying to deny flooding you. His thigh slides higher and you push yourself on to him, trying to find some relief. Your body shudders as it connects with his and you feel something inside of you let go, your need overtaking any sense of decency. You grind yourself on his leg, one hand clutching at his hips, the other raising up to the nape of his neck, your fingers twisting through his hair.

"Van..."

His name escapes through your lips, unbidden, deepening your shame. He's looking at you like a hungry wolf might regard his prey, eyes dark, lips slightly parted, drinking in your need as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

"That feel good, huh? Do you want more?"

"Yes," you urge, completely lost now, your whole body thrumming, your back arching as he pulls the front of your dress down, exposing your breasts completely.

You're coiled that tightly you feel like the slightest touch will tip you over the edge and he knows it. The smirk he's wearing is wide, victorious, his eyes trailing hungrily over you as your hips twitch, rolling against him, the friction a tantalising promise of the pleasure that you'll feel when he finally touches you there.

"Fuck... you look so good," he murmurs. "You wouldn't believe how long I've wanted this. And I knew it... I knew I'd have you one day."

The knowledge that he has you right where he wants you fills you with self-disgust but you're too far gone to care, if anything the wickedness just makes you even hotter.

"Just shut up and fuck me!" You hear yourself say, any shock you feel at your depravity being borne away on the swell of desire that consumes you.

His head dips down to kiss a hot wet trail down your neck. You bury your fingers further into his hair, tugging it at the roots as he descends further, taking a nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud, making you gasp. Your other hand clutches at the fabric of his shirt, balling it into a fist.

His hands are on your thighs now, roughly hitching up your dress around your hips, his fingers immediately finding their way to the thin scrap of lace between your legs, caressing you through it.

You let out a desperate moan at the sensation, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, the feeling of his lips and his fingers in unison driving you into a frenzy. Your body goes taut as you feel his fingertips curl around the edge of your panties, moving them aside, sliding against your skin which is slick from your arousal. His teeth graze your nipple as his tongue flicks against it.

"Fuck..." you hiss, pressing yourself on to his fingers, feeling one pushing inside you as his lips go to your neck, kissing and nipping, his breath hot in your ear.

You're turned on beyond belief, not caring about anything but your own pleasure now, hungry for it... desperate. You grab at his wrist, holding it firmly in place, needing more, grinding yourself shamelessly against him.

"That's right baby, wanna see you fuck yourself on my fingers."

And then you hear the front door slam shut.

Your heart almost stutters to a stop as your eyes flick open and you release Van in a instant, pushing him back as you do. He stumbles but quickly rights himself, his jaw slack, his eyes glazed-looking. You let out a noise which is halfway between a whine and a whimper, frantically pulling up the neckline of your dress and smoothing it down over your thighs which are still trembling. You press your legs together, a nauseating guilt squirming in you at the feel of the sodden lace there, confirmation of just how badly you wanted him.

"Y/N..." Van hisses, his voice low, and you look over at him, panic setting in as you hear footsteps in the hallway accompanying the crisp sound of plastic carrier bags rustling as Larry makes his way to the kitchen. "Pull yourself together for christs sake!"

Van straightens up, brushing down his clothes with one hand, running the other through his hair. Despite his initial flustered reaction his recovery is swift and flawless, unsettlingly so. He looks unruffled, cool and collected whilst your whole body still feels on fire, anxiety lighting up your nerves and chasing away the passion.

The bastard's probably used to this, you think bitterly.

You go to open your mouth, scathing words ready to roll off your tongue, but before you can even form them Larry appears around the doorway, eyes bright, holding two carrier bags aloft.

"Wait till you guys see what I got!" He announces proudly, plonking the bags down on the kitchen counter with aplomb. The same counter Van had you pressed up against only moments earlier.

"What ya got mate?" Van replies in excitement, stepping forward to peer into the bags. "Hope you remembered my ciggies."

"Course I did, beer, fags, more wine for Y/N, and loads of snacks. Jaffa cakes for you Van, and those spicy crisps you love... they're your favourite aren't they?"

Larry's looking at you now, waiting for a reaction, an approval for what he's purchased, but you can't answer him. All you can think about is him perusing the shelves of the local shop, thoughtfully picking out the best loved snacks for the two most precious people in his life whilst you were both there, betraying him. You feel sick with guilt, mumbling a thank you, moving forward to reach for your glass of wine then stepping quickly back, as far as you can away from Van.

"What's up with you? You pair haven't been arguing again have you?" Larry's smile slips right off his face as he looks between you and Van. "I told you to sort it out. What do I have to do? Lock you both in a room together until you're forced to get along?"

You can feel your cheeks flushing crimson at the thought of what might occur in that situation, eyes darting to Van who's standing there like he doesn't have a care in the world.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that anymore," he says, moving across the kitchen towards you as he speaks, slipping an arm casually over your shoulder. You stiffen, not sure how to act, taking a gulp of your wine so you don't have to look at Larry.

"Had a really good chat whilst you were gone didn't we Y/N? Got things out into the open. It's all sorted now. I'm pretty sure things are gonna be very different from now on..."

You swallow your wine down with difficulty, your throat thick, the urge to shrug Van off and walk away strong, but you resist, raising your eyes to meet Larry's instead, giving him a meek smile.

"Yeah... yeah, things are all good now," you mumble, feeling Van's fingers gently squeeze your shoulder as he tucks you tightly into his side like you're best friends.

Larry's face instantly lights up as he reaches into one of the carrier bags for a bottle of beer, smiling to himself.

"It's about bloody time! Honestly you don't know how happy that makes me feel hearing that. Come on then... let's go and finish watching this film shall we?"

#red #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann x reader #fanfic #vanfic #smut

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