Greta Van Fleet // Oneshots

All For Me // Danny Wagner *SMUT*

"It's okay," Danny said and even though it wasn't, the way he said those words did make it feel like things would turn out alright. "I want you to have fun. Maybe just not that type of fun." His hand left your cheek and slid down your side, curving gently around your hip. "Not without me, anyway."

Just that simple touch began to pull you into his depths. You wanted to soothe him somehow. "How mad were you earlier?" you asked, pressing your whole body against him and brushing your lips against his. "Like, really? How mad?"

Danny just barely reciprocated, but then he tilted his head back and put a firm hold on your hips as if to push you away. "Pretty mad, Y/N."

Without him actually pushing you back or pulling back more himself, you ran your hand up his thigh to the waistband of his jeans, toying with the leather belt he had taught around his hips. "I never see you get mad," you said, daring to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "There's gotta be so much pent-up anger in there somewhere. Unless drumming helps–" Your words were cut off by your own surprised yelp as Danny smacked your ass.

"Sometimes it does," he agreed, then one finger was hooked through your belt loop and he was dragging you to your bedroom with very little effort. It seemed to take even less effort for him to toss you back onto the bed and climb over you, two strong thighs straddling your hips as Danny's hair hung over your face. You barely had a second to see if there was actually any anger showing in his face before he sealed his mouth to yours, wasting no time in licking past your lips in a messy, heated sequence of kisses.

Strong, skilled fingers quickly undid your jeans and slid over your underwear; you hummed in surprise, melting into Danny's kisses. This was all you ever really wanted–him. No one else. You managed to unbutton his shirt and feel his chest, his skin overheated, and run your fingers through the faint sprinkling of dark hair there. Danny's own fingers began to stroke you over your underwear so lightly in comparison to the harshness of the messy makeout session that was still happening above; the gentle whispers over the thin fabric were still enough to make your hips buck.

Danny tugged a small handful of hair at the crown of your head and pulled you back. "Do you ever think about anyone else?" he questioned, his dark lashes fluttering once as he looked down at you, waiting.

You couldn't even feel the mattress beneath you or the sheets around you. It was all Danny. The darkness of your room–neither of you had managed to get a light turned on–cloaked his usual darkness, leaving him almost as only a silhouette. The help of moonlight through the windows cast light on his face in certain angles and you looked into his eyes as best you could as you answered: "No. Never. Seriously."

Danny sat back on your hips completely, sparing none of his weight from settling down on you. The problem wasn't that he was too heavy, the problem was that his ass was right against your crotch and his thighs were flexing around you and you couldn't do a thing about it. "So when you're flirting with other people," he started to say, tracing his fingertips down your scalp to the side of your face, then to your neck. "You're not thinking about them? You're still thinking about me?"

You were such an idiot sometimes. How many lines had you crossed without a care in the world for anyone else? "Okay," you said quietly, tentatively putting your hands on Danny's thighs. They were so hard, the denim strained over muscle, surely even harder from the tension brewing in his body. "I'm not thinking about you." You pet your hands over his quads. "But only in those stupid moments."

"Right." Danny grabbed your wrists and pinned one on each side, bending over you again. He was close enough to steal a kiss from, but you didn't dare–this was interesting. A little unnerving. But still hot, the jealousy and anger that had built up inside your boyfriend slowly trickling out in a sequence that you'd never even fantasized about before, because you had been too dense to realize what you'd even been doing.