Sweet Like Cherry, Burns Like Hellfire- 2 (18+)

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Pairing: Mob!Draco x Stripper!Reader

Summary: He never really had a choice. He was but a boy when he signed his life away to Tom Riddle and started doing his dirty work. He was cold, heartless and ruthless until he met her...his precious flower.

Warnings: mature language, themes, smut, filthy talking, fist fight, mentions of violence. drinking, voyeurism, public sexual acts, reader discretion is highly advised. Please make sure you read the warning before proceeding.

A/n: I missed writing smut so this story is a bit on the smutty side. Still wanted there to be plot though. Tom Riddle is not Voldemort in this one if that makes sense. If you want to picture him, picture him from Chamber of Secrets before he became bald and noseless. 🤧. I am just having some fun with the plot for this. Pls take with a pinch of salt if you may.

Words: 3000

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She knows he's watching.

So she swings her hips with the music as she crosses the stage in that bejeweled bustier she picked out just for him. She knows what the colour red does to him. She knows exactly how he reacts to it, so she uses it to her advantage. She wields it like a lethal weapon.

Maybe one of these nights, he will stop drinking from the whisky glass he's always holding and drink from her lips instead. Maybe one of these nights she'll be brave enough to approach him and tell him off for leaving her hanging after that night. She'd love to straddle his lap and innocently grind her hips against him to make him regret leaving just a bit. She'd abandon every reasoning as to why she shouldn't rub her barely covered cunt against his slacks and just get off to him.

But for now, pretending like she didn't see him would have to do.

The lights keep flickering around her and the music does nothing to pacify her steadily spiraling thoughts. The more she stands on the stage, moving her hips, bending purposefully low to give him a show, the more she wants him. She's not the only one in the bar that wants him though. Every night, she hears whispers and exchanges about him in the changing room amongst the other girls.

He is wickedly infamous.

He owns more than half of the town and makes the people that defy him pay for it–dearly. Apparently his father used to work for some guy that's "evil incarnate" and after his demise, the mantle was passed on to Draco. Or at least that's what the gossip tells her.

The girls keep trying their luck with him every night and it makes her skin crawl. She knows she shouldn't be jealous. He probably doesn't even remember her.

She still remembers how he called her his precious flower when he fucked her against the shelf of that bookstore though. How he had carefully placed his weapons on an empty table before he'd undressed. She hadn't asked him a word about it. She'd dare not.

While he was buried inside her, he had promised he'd protect her. From what, or who she doesn't know but still, he'd vowed. He'd promised he'd be there when she woke up the next day.

Empty promises. Ones he probably made during the throes of passion.

Trouble.

He is the devil himself, disguised in a tailored suit and she is this close to walking up to him to make a bargain.

Before she can act on her urges, she walks away and out of the back door of the club into a back alley. Day after day, focusing on her job is becoming increasingly tiresome. She's tried so hard to run from burnout but it is slowly catching up to her. At least she's paid off most of her mum's medical bills. She can now afford to quit this job and support herself and her mother on her bookstore clerk salary.

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