whispersofwerewolves:

Jasper Hale imagine requested by anon! “Hey there amazing writer, would you be interested in doing a Jasper smut please. Perhaps one where he’s over at the readers house at night and he’s determined to be a Southern gentleman but then he sort of snaps and it’s really, for a lack of better word, hot. It’s okay if you don’t have the time or don’t like the request but if I haven’t been clear enough could you please help me out. I adore your writing and I think you could be published one day. I hope you have a good day. ☺️” Hope you like it!!

WARNING: SMUT

It wasn’t as if he’d never been in your bedroom before; Jasper had graced your humble home with his glorious presence on more than one memorable occasion, but the staggering beauty of him, the stark contrast of his alabaster-hewn image standing out like milk against the inky backdrop of your bedroom window… well, it never failed to knock the breath from your lungs. As your eyes harvested the sight of him, his did the same to your face; the heat of his honeyed irises washed over your forehead, your cheekbones, the curvature of your lips as he studied the shape of you. No wonder his touch was so frigid; any warmth that remained in his being was spent through his eyes. He straightened under your gaze, his hands clasping stoically behind his back, his jawline hardening as he fought to constrain the laughter that built in his chest. Your eyes followed the lines of his clothing, devouring every impossibly perfect ich of him; his broad chest, the elegant whittling of his waist, his strong thighs, the cut of his trousers as they smoothed to the tips of his shoes. He cleared his throat, calling your attention to the very best part of him, physically at least. His eyes sparkled, somehow, in the darkness, twinkling like stars set in caramel.

“Everything in order, Miss?” he chuckled, his velvet voice crackling with the potential for full-bodied laughter, docking his volume as if he thought your parents might overhear; you knew he was aware the house was empty save the two of you, but he never failed to maintain an air of absolute secrecy when it came to the two of you alone in a bedroom. Your lips pinched to conceal your smile, your eyes raking over the width of his shoulders, his posture impeccable as he stood at parade rest before you. “I’d hate to disappoint,” he continued, his voice softer somehow, a verbal indication of the blush he could no longer produce. You grinned, stepping closer to the window, closer to him, your feet finding their path through the dark with the ease of familiarity, your body hyper-conscious of Jasper’s unwavering hold on your eyes.

“I may need a closer look,” you whispered, your voice feather-light to adjust to your new proximity, your next inhale flooded with the scent of him; lavender and ocean spray, something earthy and solid but not unclean. Your fingertips toyed with the material of his shirt, your eyes watching as Jasper’s hands unclasped from behind him, his hands trailing delicately, icily over the exposed skin of your forearms. You shivered involuntarily, though not entirely from the cold, as Jasper’s head bent to the crook of your neck, your arms winding around his back in time with his own movement. You buried your face in his chest, allowing yourself to be held, pressing your body as close as was humanly (and inhumanly) possible to his. You tilted your face, pressing your lips to the smooth skin of his throat. “You passed inspection, Mr. Whitlock.” Jasper whistled an exaggerated sound of relief, leaning away from you to better see your face, his fingertips chilling along your temple as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“I’m sorry to intrude. I would have called first, but I…” he exhaled, losing his train of thought as his eyes roved your features. He smirked when you fluttered your eyelashes, your dramatics eliciting a tightness in his biceps that brought you closer to his chest. “I was in the neighborhood, I suppose. I was hoping to spend some time with you, if that’s alright.” His offer stood like an open gate without a fence attached; a perfectly polite invitation, but unnecessary to gain entry. You wee already dancing over his threshold. Your palm reached upward to cradle his face, his nose dipping to your wrist as you moved. He inhaled deeply, his eyes closing as he concentrated on the scent of you, his arms relaxing at his sides as he exhaled. He breathed a shallow laugh. “That’s never going to get easier, I’m afraid. Every time…” he trailed off, shaking his head with expected disbelief. “Like a fire roaring down my throat. How could something so beautiful,” he paused, his hands finding your cheeks, thumbs like ice as they smoothed over your cheekbones. “How could something so beautiful cause so much trouble?” You scoffed, clasping your hands behind his back, walking him backwards until he was propping himself up against the window’s ledge.

“Oh, I’m trouble now? You haven’t seen trouble, Jasper.” Jasper’s gaze remained trained on your face, his brow relaxed, his lips pursed.

“I’d sure like to,” he breathed, his hand dropping to your waist. You stifled a giggle, your jaw dropping at his words. Jasper’s eyes rolled to see your dramatic reaction, the hand left cradling your face reaching up to sift through his golden curls as he awaited your scolding.

“Jasper Hale. I never thought I’d live to see the day you’d say something like that. You’re supposed to embody the… the… the charm and good manners of the South. What a let-down,” you jested, your eyes locked on his, watching clouds pass over his irises as he thoughts tracked your words. He inched closer to you, pushing himself away from the window ledge, his hands dropping to secure your hips to his. When he spoke, his voice melted against your skin. It was easy to see just how little effort it would take for him to talk someone to their grave…

“Am I not charming?” His hands brushed along your waist, his touch light as the breath that blew coolly against your ear, stirring your hair as his fingers tickled your rib cage. You shuddered, not from the cold but from the heat, your hands reaching upward to grasp his collar, though your head remained bowed; if he had anything else to whisper to you, you wanted to hear it. “I can read you, you know. You seem… well, charmed,” he smirked, a gentle burst of air alerting you to his laughter. You lifted your gaze, finding his face much closer than you had anticipated. His eyes were hard on yours, burning from within with an intensity you’d never witnessed in the man. Your fingers tightened around the collar of his shirt, bowing his body to yours with a firm tug against the fabric. His face lost all expression of humour, his jaw clenching at your unexpected action. He might be able to sift through your emotions, but he sure as Hell couldn’t predict the future. You angled your face towards his, as if to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your lips finding the curve of his jaw just beneath his earlobe. You pressed a slow, soft kiss to his skin, your breath rushing from your lungs when you spoke.

“What about now?” Jasper twisted your body around, pressing your back against the wall and winding your legs around his waist within the course of a second. You exhaled audibly, the shock you felt physically carried on your breath, eliciting a ravenous smile from the vampire. His hands moved more securely now, rushing along your thighs and coating your hips in flames.

“My good Southern manners forbid me from saying just what we’re feeling right now,” he chuckled, his lips diving to meet yours with a hunger he rarely allowed himself to bend to, your arms flinging around his neck as Jasper’s kiss set your pulse ablaze. He separated from you, his hand guiding your jaw upward, exposing the flesh of your neck to be peppered with fiery kisses, your throat strangling a moan as the sound threatened to bubble to the surface and between your lips. Jasper seemed to do the same, collecting himself before he spoke, his hands cradling your face with far less delicacy than before, his lips a hair away from touching yours. “I’m sure I can make up for it.” Your brow furrowed in confusion, your mind fogged from his kiss, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Ladies first.” His hands worked like lightning to remove your shirt from your torso, lifting the fabric up and over your head with little ceremony, your hands beating his to the clasp of your bra. You fiddled with the mechanism as Jasper’s face fell to your breasts, his tongue tracing over the hills of your skin, his hands tearing the garment away once you had undone the dryer-bent clasps from their hooks. Your hands tangled in his curls as his tongue darted over your nipple, his fingers melting ice against the fever of your flesh as he kneaded the breast his mouth was not ravishing. Your breath caught in your throat when he tugged at the sensitive bud; it did not hurt, but the sensation was so far from the gentle demeanor he had always displayed. His eyes found yours, his face lifting, his brow furrowed in question. Breathless, you nodded, your head tipping backwards as he returned to his task, repeating the action until you pulled him upwards and towards you. Your hips had been grinding against his, though your bodies remained clothed from the waist-down. You’d had enough of his manners.

“This is all feeling a bit unfair,” you breathed, your voice ragged as the air that hissed from your lungs, your fingers clumsily toying with the buttons of his shirt, Jasper’s hands removing your legs from his hips to set you on the ground, his own hands unbuttoning your jeans. Your hands slowed to a stop as Jasper’s fingers undid your zipper, his hand sliding easily between the denim and the fabric of your underwear. His fingers slid against you, your toes curling against the floor. Jasper’s fingers moved your panties to the side, the ice of his skin shocking the bundle of nerves between your legs. You cried out, your hand slapping to your mouth, as he moved along your skin. Your unoccupied hand found his chest, pushing him backward, his hand leaving you, opting instead to remove your pants entirely. He kicked off his shoes as you finished the buttons of his shirt, tearing the fabric from his chest as hungrily as he had done with you, your hands roaming the bands of muscle beneath his skin as he kicked his pants off. His hips met yours, backing you once more against the wall, your bodies separated now by the mere whisper of cloth covering your heat. His hardness pressed against you, one hand closing around your hip, the other at the nape of your neck.

“Is here alright?” he breathed, his tone vibrating with intensity. You nodded, desperation polluting your voice.

“Here is perfect,” you whispered, finding his lips briefly before he ducked, removing your underwear, the fabric pooling at your feet. You kicked the material to the side, watching as Jasper stepped out of his boxer shorts, his erection hard against his stomach. You both paused, devouring the sight of each other for the briefest moment, reliving his entrance what seemed like hours ago, before your eyes locked. There was hardly time to breath before Jasper’s body was pressing against yours, his strong arms lifting you without so much as the thought of exertion, your legs wrapping firmly around his hips. Your hands clung to his shoulders, pulling him against you, your body arching as the head of his cock brushed against your folds. You ducked your face to his shoulder, your teeth daring to nip against his diamond-hard skin, the vampire groaning at the sensation before he thrust within you. You felt the air leave your lungs as he stretched you, his movement slow, his hands clutching to you like a drowning man does a life preserver, your spine melting against your bedroom wall. You had a feeling you’d be thankful your parents were miles away; if they heard you tonight, every good impression Jasper had made in the past would rocket out the window. “Jas-” you prompted, his body rolling into yours before you could finish uttering his name, the second syllable corrupting to a gasp. He thrust within you once more, his muscles hardening as he moved, your hands clenching to fists in his hair.

He moved with pointed precision; he was faster than he’d been before, but never sloppy. His actions were harder, but never abrasive. He moved in time with your staggered breathing, his hands on the wall beside your head, his hips jutting to meet yours every other second, his exhales carrying moans of pleasure from deep within his chest. Your fingers struggled to find purchase against his chest, clawing without prevail against the bands of muscle you found there. Your hand fell back against the wall, pushing yourself away, your body clinging to his as he spun you, collapsing beside you atop your bedspread. He separated from you, moving with impossible speed, your back cradled against his chest as he moved the both of you towards the headboard. He inched your legs aside, thrusting from behind, one hand wrapped around your stomach cementing you to his chest, the other rubbing excited circles against your nerves. You moaned, pushing your hips back against his as he thrust, his thighs beneath yours tensing as he drew closer to his release. Your senses were overwhelmed entirely, his arm around your waist hardening as his muscles contracted, his thrusts coming faster than ever, your mind hazing as the sensation between your legs grew dizzying. You called his name; a warning, an exclamation, an oath… you couldn’t be sure. He buried himself within you, his fingers never slowing as your body tightened around him, a surprising warmth spreading between your legs. He slowed, his arm loosening, your bodies collapsing backwards. Jasper shifted, his breathing laboured, moving to lay beside you, his hands turning your body to face him. You exhaled in timeless bursts, your heart hammering in your chest, your legs convulsing as Jasper’s fingers slowed, eventually lifting away from your heat once your body had calmed. His eyes rose from watching you, meeting yours with a patient sort of pride, a mischievous glint glittering deep within his pupils, his hair falling gracefully over his forehead despite the trauma it had received at your hands.

“Like I said,” he breathed, his marble body pressing against yours, his lips at your ear. “Trouble.”