Summertime [Daveed x Reader]
Description: Female!Reader x Daveed. You’re partying at the Wave House in San Diego, when you run into a very attractive stranger who buys you some very expensive tequila. Who are you to refuse?
Genre: Smut
Rating: M for bathroom fucking and dirty talk.
Notes: This is set when Hamilton was in its Public days, so Daveed’s pretty much just begun work on it. Ft. my favourite clippng song and Rafa because Rafa is huggy bear. (I don’t know if he can surf- just go with it shh)
The ocean air was a relief to your lungs- San Diego never disappointed for a vacation. Pacific Beach was one of your favourite places to go, be it for a morning tan, sunset bike ride, or a night at a party you were sure to regret in the morning. Of course, you never could bring yourself to regret it the next day, as the west coast vibe just kept you in a good place.
The night breeze rolling off the nearby waves sends you shivering in your bikini top and shorts, but just as soon as it comes, it’s replaced by a wave of warmth from the fire pits. The nearby screams of Belmont Park ring out through the night with the music, the Big Dipper coaster roaring by every so often. Where you are, the bar is crowded, the flow barrell is still open, (flow rider is closed; the kids had all gone home hours ago), and the music is loud. Sauntering over to the steps where people are watching someone surf the barrel, you lift your beer to your mouth, drinking the last of it. The guy on the wave’s been up there for a while; he has dirty blonde hair and a couple of tattoos up his arms... not bad looking, you think.
You consider the guys around you, wondering how many of them would try and come onto girls looking to get lucky tonight. You had really just come out here for a good time, and you certainly weren’t in the mood for any half-baked pick-up lines from a... well, half baked guy.
Until you approach the bar, and find a drink plopped down in front of you.
“Thanks for the gift,” you smirk, and the bartender, (who looks a little like Shaggy Rogers, and stoned enough for it too) just puts up his hands.
“Hey man, normally it would be on the house for a pretty chick like you... but this one’s from Corbin Bleu over there-” he leans in close, smirking, “Dude’s been eye-fucking you all night.”
Your eyes follow his gestures, and you see a guy with curly hair in a black Oaklandish tank staring over; he looks familiar to you, for some reason. He doesn’t smirk at you, doesn’t wink, doesn’t do anything usually cheesy... just gives a small wave, offering a genuine smile your way. Interest piqued, you lift the glass his way in thanks, and tip it back.
Patron. Expensive tequila. Who is this dude?
Bringing it down from your mouth, he’s gone.
“So... you accepted my drink,” his voice said behind you, speaking over the roar of the music and the cheers of the surfer’s growing audience, “Can I assume you’re a little interested?”
“A little,” you reply nonchalantly, swishing the ice around at the bottom. You swivel around to look him over up close, admiring the toned muscles he’s got all the way up his arms, flexing every time he makes a move. Suddenly, a new song begins- Summertime, by clippng. “God, I love this song,” you mutter, getting up to sway your hips a little to the californian style beat. The guy immediately laughs, ducking his head. “What?” you scowl, ready to defend your taste, “They’re a great band.”
“Yeah, we are,” he laughs, and your eyes widen.
“Oh fuck! Are you-”
“My name’s Daveed Diggs, I’m... the vocalist of this band, yeah.”
“It didn’t even hit me...” Your eyes widen.
“Well, at least you didn’t say we were shit,” he grins, “Then you’d be in an even more awkward position than I am.” You can’t help but adopt his infectious beam and laugh with him.
“No, but... I do really love this song,” you murmur, lifting your arms above your head to move a little more freely, “You guys are great.” When your eyes open again, you catch his own eyes dropping down to your chest... you realize the bikini top you were wearing had no support whatsoever, and the button of your shorts had snapped off months ago, so...
It's summer, that pot stick Block burning, G's banging on the beach White tees, no socks shit Palm tree on lean, bass rocks with the knock
“Where do you live?” you ask, because talking more would probably eventually lead to talking less.
“Far away from here,” he grins endearingly, “New York, actually.”
“New York? Shit, what’re you doing all the way out here?”
“A bay boy’s gotta come back to his roots when he’s got the time. ‘Course, San Diego’s no Oakland, but the nightlife here is lit.”
“Can’t disagree,” you smile, “Is it a good scene in New York?”
“Busy as all hell right now,” Daveed huffs, “It really is the city that never sleeps, and I can see why. I’m in workshops right now for this rap musical about the founding fathers...”
“Rapping founding fathers?”
“Yup,” Daveed frowns, “Terrible idea, fucking brilliant music. Guy who created it’s a genius.”
“Who’re you gonna play?” you murmur, biting your lip, “The guy on the ten? He’s hot.”
“Ha! No, he’s the title role. I’m the guy on the two.”
“I could try and remember who’s on the two, but I’m a little tipsy and I kind of don’t care about the order of the presidents right now,” you smirk, and he laughs loudly, subconsciously leaning in closer.
“That makes two of us.”
“Mmm... wanna buy me another tequila?” you suddenly come out and ask, feeling bold as you dance closer to the attractive rapper. His eyelids droop a little as he shakes himself free of your spell. Opening his mouth, his filter seems to temporarily malfunction.
“Actually, I... low-key wanna make you come up against a bathroom stall.”
“Only low-key wanna?” you tease, wiggling your hips back against his ratty jeans, predicting something to grind against and... yep, there it was, his boner.
“Okay, very high-key,” he corrects himself with an inopportune voice crack, and you giggle flirtatiously, wrapping your arms backward around his neck. He leans forward a little, trailing his lips up your neck. You keen a little, leaning back into him and his erection that keeps on filling out, and he places kisses up your exposed throat- you can feel his hot breath on your skin, and a shudder runs through you. The night ahead of you will sure be a story worth telling your friends, the way this is heading.
Low nose clown on they pogo bounce when they slow-mo round Make the hoes go down, homies smoke that loud 'til they choke fall out And they run they mouth, what they don't know might end 'em Cause the women so fine in the summertime Turn a six to a dime in the summertime
“Hun- are you sober enough for it?” he all but whispers, and you can feel him swallow apprehensively.
“Hell yes,” you breathe, moving your hips, “But hey, I’m here partying in San Diego for a reason... I’m bound to make a couple good, memorable mistakes tonight.” You smirk, turning around to face him. “Wanna be one of them?”
“I’d love to be all of them,” he growls, and grabs your wrist, leading you through the people dancing and over the cool sand to the shacks.
“That surfer’s really good,” you comment on the way, and Daveed looks back absently.
“Oh, yeah. That’s actually my friend Rafa- we grew up in the bay area, so surfing’s been his thing, aside from poetry and spitting bars of his own, for a while.”
“Wow... he’s amazing on the barrel!” you repeat animatedly, hoping to get a rise out of him, “Normally, folks barely last five minutes on the thing.” As you had expected, Daveed gets a bit of a jealous flash.
“Yeah, well... he’s not good at much else, shit.”
You giggle, squeezing Daveed’s wrist lightly. Too easy. “Chill, Diggs, it’s not like I want his dick in me.” Daveed huffs, and opens the door to the women’s room, peeking inside.
“Oh shit,” he mutters, pulling back out, and you frown.
“What?”
“Someone’s puking in there, let’s try the men’s.”
A couple of burly guys exit the men’s, giving you a once over, but Daveed seems to scare them off with his stature alone. You and Daveed go in... empty, but your eyebrows immediately go up.
“I thought there’d be a little more room in here,” you murmur, “These stalls are small for a five year old, same as the women’s.”
“Oh yeah,” Daveed lets out a laugh, “We’re probably gonna break the stalls if we try to fuck in there.”
"Wall?” You lick your lips invitingly, backing up to splay yourself against it.
“I don’t feel like getting arrested tonight if someone walks in and reports us for public indecency, thanks.”
"Arrested?” You tug at his shorts.
“It’s not fun to say the least, wouldn’t recommend it,” he nods, and leads you into a stall, “I guess this is fine... we didn’t need breathing room anyway.” With that, he slams the stall door shut and smashes his lips into yours, teeth grazing upon impact. His pelvis is grinding against you, providing a frustrating friction you wish he would increase. Your hips chase his as he pulls back just a little, and he smirks at you. "Oooh now, impatient."
"Desperately turned on," you correct with a frustrated huff.
"I wonder what else I could make you do for my dick..."
You huff, untying your flimsy bikini top and dropping it to the sandy floor. His eyes immediately fall to your naked breasts, widening comically. You smirk right back at the power shift, twisting a finger in one of his tendrils and tugging. "You were saying?"
"Uhummm..." he mutters, rendered absolutely speechless, so you take over, bringing his face down into your cleavage and moaning a little. He whimpers, and his instincts kick in as his dick practically guides itself back toward you.
“Fuck me,” you whisper through a grin into his hair, and Daveed doesn’t need to be told twice. Placing fervent kisses around your nipple and stimulating one with a bite between his teeth, he tugs your denim shorts down to your ankles as you squeal.
“How the fuck can you even call these shorts?” he breathes, kicking them aside, “It’s practically a damn thong.”
“Would you rather I’d worn my great aunt capris today?” you tease, and his long, slender fingers squeeze into the meat of your ass and roll it around, lifting you up against the stall wall.
“You could’ve been wearing a damn wetsuit, wouldn’t change the fact that I’d still be getting you naked.”
“I’d be too hot in a wetsuit,” you complain with a pout.
“Good thing you opted for butt floss then,” he laughs, and goes back to attacking your neck with kisses.
“Fuck, get in me,” you moan, squeezing your legs around his back, and he uses one arm to hold you up, one to untie his tented swim trunks. Digging around in his pocket, he pulls out a saltwater soaked condom packet, tossing it up to you, where you open it and roll the thankfully dry protection onto him. “Holy shit.” According to you, size mattered, and well...
“What?”
“I didn’t know you would be so huge.”
Daveed’s visibly aroused by the praise. “I’ll go slow,” he murmurs, though he gulps while saying it.
“Ha! No thank you,” you whisper back, and thrust your hips forward, burying his tip just inside of you. Daveed lets out a strangled noise, and clutches at your shoulders as he finds his footing, sinking into you all the way. Already, the warm Californian breeze has made the air between you hot, sweat beginning to bead between your breasts and over Daveed’s face and chest. You can hear the music thumping outside, with the beat of the midnight tide nearby; you feel endless.
“Good for you?” he asks, mouth slightly ajar in bliss.
“Amazing,” you breathe back, digging your nails into his back and resting your forehead against his. Breathing each other’s air, you both lean in every few thrusts to facilitate a sloppy kiss, tongues down each others throats as Daveed continues to bring you and himself closer. For your part, you squeeze yourself around him and slide down to meet him every time he slams in, making him groan for you.
“Touch me,” you manage out, and he uses one hand to massage a perky breast, the other to rub circles around your clit. He’s keeping your body up against the stall with his body weight only, which is pretty impressive. “Mmm, that’s good, that’s good, oh my god...” you whisper, and a shudder runs through him, making his curls bounce.
“I can’t last- ugh... you’re so damn hot...”
“I’m so close,” you groan, tossing your head back. Daveed is just as far gone, chest heaving and thrusts uneven as his body quivers. “Come for me, hun,” he murmurs, and with that encouragement, you squeal, gushing around his thick cock. Watching your face contort with your orgasm, Daveed lets out a choking noise, offering two deep thrusts before blowing his load inside the condom.
“Wow,” you breathe, running a hand through your hair. He pulls out, and sets you down gently, grabbing some toilet paper to clean off.
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit.”
“Totally, right?”
“I guess I... won’t be seeing you.”
“Right... I guess not.”
You clear your throat- parting was always weird after a no strings attached type thing. “Good luck on your, uh... history show!”
“Yeah, you too,” he replies, then his face scrunches up at his painfully awkward response.
You two put the clothes you had taken off back on, (all this sand would be a horror to try and get out of the crotch of your shorts later) and walk back out to the Wave House. The place’s vibe has since chilled out even more, and Rafael’s not up on the barrel anymore- it’s a girl now.
“Diggs!”
“Yo,” Daveed says to someone, and you turn around to find Rafael draping himself over his friend.
“Get this, right- I forgot my shirt in some chick’s place last night... I’m pretty sure she threw it in the ocean out of sheer spite,” he said, squinting. Daveed snorted.
“No shirt, no cash looks like... guess you want a ride home.”
“Hell no! The party’s not over yet, I’ve got a tab going, and hey- you haven’t introduced me to your lady friend yet!”
“Oh, I’m-” you jerk a thumb in the opposite direction, but Daveed suddenly pulls you close, so Rafa bows dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows. “Greetings, lady friend.”
You giggle, wondering where this was going. “My...my name’s (y/n). Your name’s Rafa?”
“Diggs, you tell people about me?” Rafa mocks swooning, and falls into Daveed’s arms. Daveed shakes his head, and gives him a hug before standing him up properly.
“Go have some drunk sex, Rafa, it’ll do you good.”
“What, like you? Nah, I’m spent, man. Let’s go smoke up, I’ve got the sweet sticky shit!”
“I’ve got an off broadway show that’s about to open, shitcarriage, pot kills my chords.”
You speak up. “Let’s buy some tickets to Belmont, then.” Rafa’s eyes widen, and he stumbles over to you.
“You’re my hero. She’s my hero, Diggs. I like her. Keep her, or I will.”
“Noted,” the taller rapper grins, steadying his friend again, and he picks you up off your feet and into his arms. You swing your legs over his shoulder as you make your way to the beachside carnival under the stars.
“Let’s ride the Big Dipper first,” you suggest, and Daveed nuzzles into your neck with a smirk.
“I thought you just did,” he grins, and Rafa’s wolf whistle is so loud you hear it over the current clippng song they’re blasting back by the bar.
