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Possessive

Possessive

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing3h 20m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Aug 3, 2016
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Fanfic
1Direction
"She's mine." He purred as he watched her hands snake up the length of her curves. Leaning forwards in his seat, his tongue eagerly glided over the bottom of his lips. "She's no ones." His eyes didn't once leave the Blonde gliding across the floor as if it were her second nature. Flipping her hair to the side he watched as she seductively made her way over to him. Making a figure eight with her hips, a sharp inhale of breath could be heard from the boy 2 feet away from her. Slowly lifting her shirt as her hips rolled in rhythm to the music, his eyes trained down her curvy body landing on a small tattoo above her pink-laced underwear. "Mine." He said again as the girl slowly shook her head, tracing the length of her body with her perfectly manicured fingers. "No." She swiftly said before turning her body around in a circle, swiftly moving her hips as she made her way down to the ground before snaking her way back up. Mine. The boy quietly thought. She's all mine.
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Everyone thought she was just the quiet girl. Kept to herself. Always early to class. He was the boy with the bike, the bruised knuckles, and a reputation that came with warnings. "Stay away from him," they warned. So naturally, she found him on the rooftop one afternoon, leaning against the railing, cigarette in hand. He raised an eyebrow. "Wrong place, angel." She stepped in, smirking as the breeze played with her hair. "Nah. I make everywhere the right place." He chuckled-right until she snatched the cigarette from his hand, dropped it, and crushed it under her shoe. "You've been staring for weeks," she said, tilting her head. "Figured I'd save you the trouble and come say hi." His smirk vanished, but he said nothing as she turned and walked off. That night, he texted . Him: You always this bossy? Her: Only with boys who look good when they obey.

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