#sry mine is so low res..... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nctrenjunie · 5 years

Text

Angel~ Haechan x Reader (M)

Author: Sera

Pairing: Mafia!Haechan x Reader

Genre: Smut

IMPORTANT: I wanted to open a instagram acccount for this blog for requests etc. and just be closer to my followers. PLS TELL ME YOUR OPINION?

Request: I started writing at 12pm its 2.45 am and I have to wake up at 6am. It took me 3 coffees and 2liters water to stay awake. I still have to wash my hair. Hope youll like it. Sry for taking so much time, school is killing me physically and mentally. Feedback is very welcomed! <3

The fact that it felt like a humiliation wasn't really what made you feel this strong desire to kill him. It was the loss of respect and control that drove you crazy to the point that just from sitting still on the chair he commanded you to sit on your blood started to boil up.

His dark sinister filled eyes matching yours that were sternly fixed on his rapidly movements through the room, walking from wall to wall, trying to figure out what to do know with his thoughts and you. The gun that he was fidgeting through his hand made you surprisingly nervous as the small sound of the trigger rang through your ears once in a while.

The lack of reaction you gave him, with a slight scoff and a smirk didn't surprise him, knowing you trusted him. Still, it pissed him off, knowing that there really is someone who doesn't fear him, that could read him like an open book, someone who even he couldn't shoot a bullet through the head.

He wanted to make you feel as transparent and readable as he felt, the moment as he saw you pinned against the wall, one of his workers leg between yours whilst the servants and the man could see right through his face. The pissed, furious look plastered on his face, mixed with a hint of betrayal, not really coming from your side but from his underling that thought taking chances on his baby would bring him somewhere else than waiting for his death in the big mansion off his once boss.

Wanting to make you feel as humiliated as he felt he made you sit down in the middle of one of the living rooms in the mansion, making sure that it was middled enough for everyone that was pacing near the living room to hear your cries and moans later. The gun was still pointed carelessly against your head, his index finger on the trigger as he finally started to talk.

”Care to explain to me what happened angel?”

He knew what happened, he went to watch the CCTVS after the incident, leaving you waiting there for him, dress pulled down on the shoulders, showing of more of your cleavage that it should be if it wasn't for Haechan.

“He started touching me, I pushed him away, he pulled on my dress and pinned me against the wall, trying to seduce me to runaway with him, for you to give him money to get me back, dumb boy, you came in, some of the servants behind you. The rest you know yourself. Stop being a fool and try to show dominance by pointing a gun at me. Now let me go, I want to shower.”

He kept steady, satisfied with your obvious answer but overthinking your words about him trying to show off his dominance.

“Aren't you the same Y/N? Always trying to show how much control you have over me at every little moment you get the chance to. We are the same angel.”

You knew where this was going to go as he started to move the gun down against your jawline and then to your neck, touching over your shoulders before gliding the gun firmly over your cleavage down to your heart where he unlocked the gun, letting the click of it echoing through the room. Your eyes were locked the whole time, not like the gun that was slowly gliding down the rest of your body to your core as he suddenly lifted his hand up, shooting up at the ceiling, breaking the lust filled silence as he let the gun fall down to the floor leaving you in semi shock from the shot.

”Now behave for me angel.”

“I thought we were the same, shouldn't you behave then too, angel?”

“Heaven already lost an angel when I signed up honey, don't follow my way to hell since you're the only way up for both of us.”

Hachean didn't left you time to think about his words as he yanked you up from the chair, pulling your legs around his waist. The kisses that he crashed against your lips were quick and sloppy yet passionate and long enough to claim the dominance over you. Your hands were wrapped around his shoulder, tangled in his soft hair that were getting messier every second whilst his hands were making their way up to the hem of your dress, rapidly undressing you, leaving you in confusion. You stopped the kiss, pulling away as your hands went down to his cheeks.

“Aren't we gonna go to the bedroom? I don't think it's a good idea to do it here.”

Smirking at your words Haechan let you down, letting the dress fall down to the floor as his hand went down to your core, touching over your underwear. You didn't even realise you got so wet until Haechan pressed against the damp fabric, spreading a welcoming feeling from your clit up into your stomach. He unbuckled his belt with one hand, using the other one to pull you closer before making its way back to your clit, this time leading it underneath your underwear, sliding two fingers over your slit, leaving you squirming from his touch.

“That's your punishment angel. Everyone will hear you scream my name for me and only mine, companied by your angelic moans.”

You weren't even surprised by your lovers attitude but now more likely busy with keeping your moans down low as you were already struggling with the volume of your noises. Haechan took of his pants and boxers, blouse still on with the two first buttons unbuttoned as he kept rubbing his finger over your slit, keeping his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles on it. Moving you backwards you felt his big member against your belly before he threw you down on the couch, landing on you and making sure not to hurt you.

You tried to relax into his touches, feeling his cock against your inner thighs now as you let your guard down, slowly moaning into the feeling of his two fingers on your hole. A loud scream escaped your mouth as he suddenly rammed both fingers deep down your pussy. Keeping the fast movement you couldn't help yourself to squeak out loud lust filled screams, pinching your nails deep into his forearm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...Haechan please, its too much..”

Haechan didn't stop his movements adding a third finger, filling his ears and probably lot more with your loud euphoric screams as he grew bigger with every second, slowly growing impatient and just wanting to ramm inside of you rapidly to get both of you to a full filling orgasms.

Seeing you roll back your eyes and stop your breathing for a second Haechan abruptly takes his hand away from your body, pulling your underwear to the side before slowly moving his cock inside your hole, making you scream again. You lay there, already fucked out as you start to scream your lungs out again. Haechan starts to pant with you, moving his hips not fast but hard enough to ramm himself deep down into you, feeling your walls clench every moment around his dick. Knowing you are close and wanting to come with you he speeds up.

“Youre my little dirty angel, right Y/N? Screaming out my name for everyone to hear, letting everyone know how good im fucking your brains out.”

His words make you cry out even louder feeling your high approaching. Haechan puts his hands on your hips, holding you still to ramm himself with his last thrusts into you, bringing both of you to feel the relief of your orgasm. You feel him pull out, cum spilling out of you on the expensive couch. His passionate kisses falling onto your lips before you drift of to sleep.

“Sleep tight angel.”

#nct smut #nct smut blog #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct haechan smut #nct127 haechan smut #nct dream haechan smut #nct smut scenario #nct smut imagine #nct hard hours #haechan smut #nct donghyuk smut #mafia au #nct!mafia #kpo smut #kpop smut blog #kpop hard hours #kpop imagine

314 notes · View notes

dmenace20-blog · 7 years

Text

A Tall Mocha. By: Dennis Saunders

“I’ll have a tall mocha please.”

And just like that my sugar laden coffee drink was being prepared by a young barista with several hours worth of tattoos draped down her arms.

Why is it this cold in December?

I was supposed to meet Justin here 17 minutes ago, and the anxiety that he backed out from seeing me was setting in… hard. My stomach was turning, my breathing becoming ragged, and my heart racing, anticipating spending the afternoon alone, hands cold and empty. The fear of being rejected before he even met me triggered a pang of self-loathing that started in my lower abdomen and slowly radiated through each extremity of my body, before being met with violent vibrations in my right pocket. A text.

“B there n 5 mins running late sry”

Wow he’s running late on the first date…

My mind was, however, put at ease and I could feel my pulse slow as I re-read (and silently corrected) his text. Eight simple words that had the power to torque my mood from nervous to, well, still nervous. Honestly, the thought of meeting him for the first time scared the hell out of me. My phone erupted into a fit of vibrations. Another text.

“Drivin an old blue truck almost there”

A blue truck? I don’t even like trucks. If we go anywhere after coffee, we’re taking my car.

I figured that I still had a minute to run to the bathroom and puke my guts out, or fix my hair – whichever came first.

What if I’m not what he is expecting? What if he doesn’t know how big I am? What if I’m not manly enough for him?

I exited the bathroom, leaving the mirror behind, and putting the unanswered anxieties in my back pocket to be confirmed or denied shortly. I sat down in a cold iron chair on the patio outside and started playing through possible scenarios in my head, but my wandering was interrupted by the sound of eight rusty cylinders grumbling across the lot. I heard the low growl of the engine shut off and the sound of a door in desperate need of WD-40 slam shut.

I pretended like I didn’t see him, like I was too enveloped in looking at what color Kylie Jenner’s hair was that week on Instagram to notice his cocky gait approach me. But I did notice. I noticed his dirty blond hair, and how the short locks moved gently as Winter sighed a sigh of relief across the parking lot. At five foot eight inches, he was shorter than my six foot frame, and his chest was broad and defined, despite being concealed inside the warm layers of his coat. His Levi’s were made of dark denim and fit closely to his thighs, slowly loosening slightly above his knees and continuing down to his ankles to his black Nikes. He continued to walk across the parking lot to where I was sitting on the patio, walking as if the pavement were under his command. I stood up to greet him.

“Hey I’m Justin,” he proudly introduced himself while shaking my hand.

His hands are warm. His bicep flexed under the tan fabric of his Carhartt jacket as he shook my hand.

I quickly noticed the subtle definition in his chest and responded.

“Nice to meet you in person, finally. Do you want to go inside for a drink?” I asked.

“Yeah sure, but I don’t know what to order,” he said staring back at me. His eyes were blue like my own, but different. They were much lighter than mine, and seemed to be searching my soul for something. What does he want from me?

“It’s ok, I’m fluent in Starbucks, and you really can’t go wrong with any drink here.”

“Ok,” and he led me into that closet small space which smelled of coffee, blueberry scones, and the sweat of young scholars furiously typing last minute essays.

There was already a line forming, and we would have to wait to order his drink. I still had half of my mocha left and couldn’t stomach another. This wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t late. We wouldn’t be waiting in line, then we would already—

“Why were you sitting outside?,” he asked with his head turning so his eyes could meet mine, “It’s really cold. I’m sure you’re ‘bout to freeze.” As he asked, He used his hand to brush my cheek, which was sporting a week of facial scruff that was soon to need attention. The silky ridges of his fingerprints drew across the coarse grain of my soon-to-be-beard and ended on the chapped surface of my cheekbone, pulling the blood from my feet to the surface of my cheeks.

Oh my god, he touched me. He really just touched me. What do I do? I settled for a smile and responded to his question, “Ah-um, I um… I don’t like how busy it is in here, so I waited for you on the patio.” My face was red from his contact, and he smirked as if he knew I was putty in his hands.

“Oh ok,” he answered, his gaze and half-smile drifting back to the menu, which must have looked like a foreign language to him. The line was moving forward at a rate much faster than I originally anticipated, and the only thing between him and a cup of coffee was the woman ahead of us. I grew silent and examined all that I could of him from the corner of my eye without turning directly to him and gawking. His posture was relaxed, his shoulders slightly concave, and he continuously shifted his weight from foot to foot. Was he as nervous as me?

“Ok I still don’t know what to order.” I pondered his statement and offered some advice.

“Well since it is December, you could definitely take advantage of the seasonal drinks, like an eggnog latte, pumpkin spice latte, praline latte-“

“I want the praline latte,” he interjected.

“Alrighty, praline it is.”

The woman ahead of us finally finished placing her elaborate order and the same barista with tattoos from earlier took Justin’s order.

“That’ll be $4.73”

Beep. The machine approved my card in the amount of time it took Justin to dig around in his pockets looking for his wallet.

“You didn’t have to pay for me,” his face looking genuinely disappointed about the fact that I paid for his coffee.

“I really don’t mind,” and I reminded him, “you’re the one who had to drive 45 minutes to get here. I only had a 15 minute drive, so this is fair.”

“If you say so,” his lips turning back into a smile as he gestured me back outside to the patio, coffee in hand.

We sat next to each other on a bench facing the parking lot, both holding our drinks, both looking straight ahead, both silent. The only sounds filling the void of non-existent conversation were the passing cars, the echo of people laughing on the other side of the glass, and the bell mounted on top of the coffee shop’s entrance door.

“Soooo…,” he dragged out, trying to decide how to finish his sentence, “what kind of music do you like?”

“Hmmmmm… Lately I’ve been obsessed with Imagine Dragons, but I’m always a sucker for Taylor Swift.”

“No way! I love Taylor Swift,” his face lit up and we turned to face each other to continue talking.

We talked for almost an hour about the evolution of Swift’s music from her first album in 2006, to her newest album which was released just a few weeks before, titled “1989”. We discussed our families, the good and the bad, our hometowns, our interests, and my plans for school since I was set to graduate in June before heading off to WCU. While explaining why I was so excited to start a new life at Western, he snaked his arm down to gently grab my hand. I tried to keep my thoughts and speech coherent as his slender fingers intertwined with mine before our palms rested against the other. Woah, are his hands always this warm? I continued droning on about how exiting and difficult being in a collegiate level marching band with a nationally applauded reputation was going to be, and he continued to hold my hand and smile.

I asked him, “What about you? What do you want to study?”

His grip became more tense. Did I strike a nerve?

His face wrinkled up, tensed, and he responded, “I didn’t go to college after graduating two years ago. It was too expensive so it wasn’t an option,” he paused to take a deep breath, “So, I started working, and I just keep on keeping on hoping that one day I’ll find a decent career.”

I’ve been here for almost two hours now. Mom is going to wonder why, “having lunch with Diana,” is taking so long.

“As long as you don’t stop reaching for more, you’ll do great,” I responded, and the tension in his brows melted away, his mouth curling back into a handsome smile. I could feel the buzz of his phone sandwiched between our touching thighs. Justin withdrew his leg to check his phone, allowing the cold dry air to fill the gap between us. The cold air permeated through my denim and found the damp spot of sweat created by his thigh on mine, and it felt like drinking ice water after chewing peppermint gum. Responding to a text, he let go of my hand, and the bitter air found a new home on my sweaty palms too.

After a few minutes of hearing the tapping of his jagged, chewed nails against the oily glass of his phone screen, he said, “I have to go.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, “can I walk you to your truck?”

“Of course” he smiled.

He stood up, readjusting his pants which fell slightly below his waist line from the prolonged sitting. I followed suit, repositioned my coat, and ran my fingers through my hair one final time.

“Alright, lets go,” he started, “trucks this way.”

As if I didn’t see where he parked

The distance between the patio and his truck was no more than 150 feet, and I silently wished that he’d parked further away. Just a few more minutes.

Within the minute, we arrived at the driver’s side door of his truck. He reached inside to start the engine since it was cold from sitting for so long. This is it. This is where he tells me we should see other people and he would rather be my friend. Justin will never want to see-

“That was fun. Can we do this again-”

Did I hear him wrong? He wants to do this again? I inhale.

“Only if you want to, of course” his eyes darting back and forth from the ground to my eyes.

He is nervous.

Before I could respond, he stepped closer to me, leaving inches between our chests, our faces, our lips. I could smell the remnants of coffee on his breath, and see the prickly hairs that framed his jaws and mouth. He leaned in even closer, causing me hold my breath and try not to pass out, but I wouldn’t dare back away. All noise ceased to exist and I could only hear my heart pounding in my ears, and slamming on the walls of my ribcage. First, his left hand met the right side of my neck, while my earring toyed with the sleeve of his coat. He pulled my face down, closing the last few inches of space between our faces, and he grabbed my left hip with his right hand. Our lips met setting my body on fire. He kissed me over and over, pulling me into him and gently biting my bottom lip. It was pure sensory overload. My chest felt like it was going to implode, and in that moment, the tension, the anxieties, the questions, the fear, the unknown, was all put to rest. I could finally breathe. After what felt like hours, he pulled away and the cold replaced the space that our interlocked bodies once occupied. He smiled, but it wasn’t cocky or all-knowing; it was just a smile. I beamed back, face red, cheeks chapped, and hands shaking, but warm.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said with a quick wink.

“That is definitely a yes,” I returned.

#lgbt+ literature #gay romance #short story #A sequel to come maybe?#gay culture #amateur writer #creative writing #dennis saunders #inbox me suggestions please #first publication

6 notes · View notes