quiffed

bonnie & clyde

mobster! dean au pt 1

 →word count: 3.9k

 →warnings: smut; references to sexual abuse;

 →a/n: i know dean isn’t exactly a kpop idol, but i really love him and his music, he is one of my favourite artists at the moment. me and my friend were both loving the idea of gangsta! dean or mobster! dean and it got my creative juices flowing (soz that’s kinda gross).

pt2 here

Originally posted by iaxifin

“oi, baby, get you’re hot ass over here,” dom calls over to you, “my lap’s feelin’ a little lonely.”

you sighed to yourself and made your way over to him, his harsh hands cuffing onto your waist, like you’d dare escaping such a man.

“my boys were saying how you were having a little chat with the delivery guy yesterday.”

his grip immediately tightened painfully as you look at his lackeys all hanging their heads sheepishly. you got along well with his guys, so the fact that they got you into trouble like this made you feel betrayed.

“baby,” you put on a fake voice to cover up your fear, “it was nothing like that, he was just being polite.”

he gave you a twisted smile, “well maybe he should know next time to stay away from what’s not his.”

his hand clutches onto your wrist instead and he drags you off of his lap and down the corridor to his room. you knew what this meant.

“i’m gonna make sure that everyone in this whole building knows who you belong to.”

dom’s party had just kicked off downstairs in the club, the bass of the music coming up from under your feet.

after what happened earlier with dom and you, you’d rather die than sit on his lap all night like his little pet.

it was a few years ago when you became dom’s ‘pet’ after you courageously stepped in for your ex boyfriend and told dom to take you instead of him. but the minute your ex got out, he had moved on immediately. it was a foolish idea, to think that your boyfriend would save you. but you were so young and naive then. so you were stuck as dom’s and there was no escape. you were trapped and labelled as “his” forever.

you look over to you’re shared bed with dom and see a note with a box laying there.

because you should always look like a princess.

d x

in the box laid a silk dusty rose cami style dress. as beautiful as it was, you didn’t want it. it was just a way to try and win your affection, but there was no real love or kindness intended by it.

but you wore it anyway because if you didn’t, there’d be a repeat of earlier’s events.

in the elastic of your stockings, you slipped your pistol in case things tonight got ugly with any unwanted guests. dom may have been a nasty piece of work, but he would never leave you vulnerable.

your put on a pair of daps with it and a fur coat over the top, you knew it would please dom if you looked “classy”. a knock at the door interrupted your thoughts and dom walked in his signature suit.

“wow baby,” he looked you up and down perversely, “you look fucking hot.”

you tried not to scoff at his words, so instead just kept your face emotionless, looking down at your daps. he grabbed your hips and pulls you out the door with him, down towards the party.

the music was getting louder and louder as you walked down the corridor. the entrance to the club was taunting freedom. as dom opened the door to the club, the guests all roared with whistles and hollers at the big man himself making his big entrance.

“ladies n gents,” he puts on a triumphant smile, “welcome!”

he walked over to where he sat for every event, his guys following closey behind, and pushed you down onto his thigh, your chair for the night.

as the night dragged on, people came over to dom, giving him a firm handshake. of course, everyone knew it was better to be pals with dom, then to make him your enemy. or you we’re fucked. last time someone came to his club looking for a fight, he got one. but it didn’t look so pretty for him afterwards.

but by 11:30, a dark face came to pay dom a visit.

“dom, how’s it been?”

it was the first time you’d ever seen dom looked shocked. his lips parted slightly as his eyes stayed frozen on the figure before the two of you. his face paled in the poorly lit club.

“uh johnny, long time no see, what are you doing at my place?” dom put emphasis on my place, trying to act like he had the upper hand here. the man seemed unphased by dom’s attempt at intimidation. by this point you’d managed to figure out that this johnny guy was not a pleasant surprise for dom.

“baby, why don’t you go have a little dance or something? i’ll catch up with you in a bit, eh?” he gave your butt a quick tap and scooted you away to the dancefloor. this was the first time dom let you out by yourself, and the thought excited you. but clearly something bad was about to happen.

you moved through all the people convulsing to the heavy-bassed music, caught up in the hot, rousing atmosphere. everyone dancing seemed to look so good, so alive on the dance floor. you found yourself joining in, swinging your hips to the beat, your eyes closed and your lips parted as you let yourself go for the first time in years. the dancer’s bodies were so close to yours, this was the most human contact you’d had with anyone except dom in so long.

it was your free spirit that caught his eye tonight. from a corner booth he was sharing with a couple of buddies, his eyes clearly settled on you. he was fascinated by how your hair swung as your head swayed with your hips, how each slight jump you did made your jacket raise, along with your dress, showing your smooth thighs and your hidden weapon. he noticed how you had a small smile on your lips, like this night was the best of your life. he noticed how your soft face looked completely out of place amongst all the mobsters.

you felt the need for a drink after so much dancing, so you made your way over to the bar. he seized this opportunity to go over and talk to you.

“one cranberry juice and vodka please,” you called out to the bartender.

“make that two,” a voice called from the other side.

your turned your head to the voice, and you were dumbstruck at the view facing you.

a lean figure in a pinstripe suit and creepers looks down on you, his hair quiffed up, but his fringe flicking round on his forehead. his hands were in his pockets, and he leaned against the bar with a poised gesture. he had a modest confidence about him, like he wasn’t confident in himself, but he was confident in life in general. like nothing could stop him. his style was slick, and it was enticing.

“i saw you dancing out there,” he pointed to the dancefloor, “i don’t think i’ve ever seen someone dance like that before.”

your brow creased in confusion, you weren’t sure if you should be offended or not.

“umm thanks?”

“i mean you looked really good out there, you were quite mesmerizing”

you smiled bashfully at his words instead now, “oh, thank you.”

he flashed his teeth at you in an honest smile, eyes creasing at the sides.

“so uh.. you know dom?” he looked at you sheepishly. you gulped at his inquiry, scared at how he might act. you were so close to finally being free, but you still couldn’t escape it.

“i-uh- i work for him,” you look down at your feet.

“work? if that’s what you call it..” he trailed off.

you started getting angry now, what right does he have to judge you? did he think this was something you wanted?

“you think i like the way he touches me? you think i enjoy being treated like someone’s play thing?”

“no no wait that’s not what i meant, look i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to upset you. i just don’t think it’s right for him to get away with treating you how he does. you should never get touched so… cruelly. it makes me sick seeing the way he manhandles you.”

“you really think that? most guys just get jealous that he gets to have  such an obedient little slut.”

you choked on your own words a little, but covered it up with a swig of your drink.

“i think you’re far from a ‘little slut’. you seem so much more than that.”

you were shocked. he barely knew you, yet he was disgusted by your treatment. and he saw you as more than an object. for once, you were human in someone’s eyes. your heart warmed at the thought.

“look, let’s not talk about dom,” you avert his attention instead, “why don’t we dance uh..?”

“dean, my name’s dean. and you are?”

you smiled slightly at his fitting name, “i’m y/n.”

you slipped your fur coat off and left it on the barstool, his eyes glancing over your bare arms and shoulders, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. you looked almost angelic in such a harsh environment, you’re subtle innocence becoming more obvious as time passed.

you grabbed onto his rough, callus hands and dragged him onto the dancefloor, and letting him guide your body instead. his hands stayed on your waist politely, but as the two of you got closer and closer to one another, they settled on your hips, one travelling up to your hair affectionately. as you danced, he stayed gentle with you, never getting grabby or inappropriate, but staying tender with his actions. it was refreshing to be treated with care for once, you craved it, you craved warmth and loving devotion.

quickly, the two of you got too caught up in each other to notice the number of dom’s men in the area.

“dean, we need to go.”

“what do you mean go?” he mumbled into your ear.

“i mean we need to leave right now,” your heart beat quickened as you worried about what could happen to dean if you got caught.

but he caught on and wasted no time leading you by your hand to the exit. as scared as you were of getting caught, your were excited at the thought of having freedom.

“y/n? we should run.”

“why?”

“because they are.”

dean pulled you through the manic crowds, down the dimly lit hallway to the exit.

“dean look out!”

in front of you were too of dom’s men, taking up the whole corridor with their large builds. you lead the way and pulled him down a nearly black hallway, with people lingering the whole way though it.

“i’ve got an idea,” dean whispers. they were getting closer.

“what is it?”

“just go along with it, okay?”

before you even had the opportunity to respond, his lips landed on yours. his arms locked on either side of the wall, blocking you in and hiding you. his lips continued kissing you as you still tried to get over the shock of somebody else being so intimate with you. it felt better than you’d imagined kissing someone else, so much more caring and light compared to dom’s painful, hard kisses that bruised your lips.

the two of dom’s men went straight past you, barely even noticing your attempt at blending in.

dean’s lips slowly detached from yours, his head resting against yours still, one arm sweeping hair off your face.

“sorry if that stepped over any lines, i thought it would help disguise us,” he whispered.

“it’s okay, it worked anyway. they’re gone now.”

“if they’re gone then why are we still whispering?”

you chuckle at his light-hearted humour, grabbing both of his hands and intertwining them with your comparably small ones.

“do you wanna come stay at my place tonight? you’ll have a bed and food and someone there to keep you safe from the baddies,” he joked.

“oh and who would that be?” you playfully replied.

“the guy who just saved your cute ass.”

“touche.”

the paced walk to his apartment was filled with trivial conversation, the two of you just enjoying the peaceful aftermath of the club.

finally you arrived outside of his flat. dean lived in a big city apartment on the top story with 5 other guys, all tall, muscly, tattooed. it was obvious that they were the gangsta sort too. they all dressed smart and in their jacket’s lining pocket you could make out the shape of pistols.

but you were used to these kinds of men, and they didn’t scare you one bit.

“fellas,” dean announces, “this is y/n, shes dom’s girl.”

they all looked at him with shock.

“what, and dom just gave her to you?” the first one spoke up, “if he find’s her here, you’re dead, we’re all dead.”

“we’ll be fine, vin, i’m gonna make sure nothing happens to her.”

you looked up at him, but he only sternly looked vin in the eye.

“if you can promise that none of us get our asses kicked, then she’s more than welcome to stay.”

dean showed you to his room, and let you in. the room was more open than you’d imagined, the whole of one wall was a window overlooking the lit up city. his bed was up against the glass, low to the ground and unmade with a laptop lying on it. but it still looked inviting. in the corner was a laundry pile, blood stained t-shirts lying on top. he had a record player in the corner and stacks of vinyl, and a wardrobe. but that was it. no more possessions and no more furniture.

“it’s very..” you tried to find the right words.

“empty? i’m aware,” he looked out the window.

“i was gonna say simple but yeah, that works too. but i like it, it feels.. right.”

“right?”

“yeah, like, i feel comfortable in here, which is surprising for me,”

you slipped his jacket he’d given you earlier off and dropped it onto the floor.

you stood there lit up by the city and moon’s lights in nothing but a small dress, and he swore to himself he had never seen anything more beautiful before in his life.

“y/n, i,” dean didn’t know how to get out the right words, “i don’t want you to think that i expect you to, ya know, do stuff.”

“i know,” you replied softly, “thank you for everything. you didn’t have to give up so much just to save someone like me.”

“someone like you? y/n, you deserve so much more than what i can give you, but for now this is all i have.”

you lean up and leave a small kiss on the tip of his nose. his eyes shut and he leans his head into the crook of your neck.

“nothing whatsoever is gonna happen to you, no one else is gonna lay a hand on you with out your consent. and i’m gonna make sure of it.”

dean may have been a face from only a few hours ago, but nothing about him was going to cause you harm. he made you feel safe for the first time in so long.

fatigue hit you as you exhaled, sinking into dean’s stature. his arms snuck around your waist and he lifted you up and carried you over to his bed, your legs wrapping around his waist.

he softly placed you down, pulling the covers over you. he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, showing you his toned, slightly scarred upper body, along with his trousers, and changed into a pair of sweatpants.

“you have tattoos?” you question, grabbing his wrist and pulling him down to you. he crouches at the side of the bed next to your head.

“i have a few,” he turns round shows the back of his neck,

r e b e l

and then along the side of his neck and down his left bicep was a plum tree with inky branches spiralling off the side, blossoms coming around the sides.

“they’re amazing.”

your hands trace along his shoulder and down the side of his bicep, moving down to grip his waist. you’re exhaustion had somewhat disappeared and was replaced with a desperate, desire to have more of dean. but this time, you didn’t want to please because you had to, but because you wanted to. you were free to make whatever decision you wanted to make, and your decision was to have dean.

much to his surprise, you pulled him onto you on the bed and covered his lips with hungry kisses, his hands gripping your hips in shock. but he reacted quickly and picked up your hands from his bare waist and pinned them above your head. if dom had done that, you would have been disgusted, but when dean held your wrists so delicately, it felt blissful.

wrapping your legs around his naked torso, you kissed down his jaw along to his neck and ear. playfully, you nipped and tugged at his earlobe, his groans filling the air and your head.

“i wanna see more of you,” he started to slide the strap to your cami down your shoulder, leaving tender kisses along your burning skin as he went.

underneath your dress was nothing except panties and your stocking-hidden pistol. he slipped it off of the top half of your body, your breasts completely on display to him. he swallowed audibly and licked his lips slightly at you. but he only saw you as beautiful. not “hot”. or “sexy”. just beautiful.

his hands softly cupped around both your breasts, kneading them slightly. you let a moan past your lips, but he shushed you and motioned to the door, meaning he didn’t want the guys to hear them.

you gulped and nodded, and he continued to rub your breasts, his lips coming down on one and grazing your nipple. you gasp at the feel of his cool breath on your hot skin. nobody had ever touched your body with so much delicacy before in your life and you were basking in it.

his hands slipped the dress the whole way down you body, all that remaining were the matching pink panties and stockings, which he took the pistol out of and placed at the side of his bed. his fingers dusted over the lace of your underwear, fingers hooking round and pulling down, and off.

he grabbed your thighs and pushed them up against your torso, giving him a clear view of your aroused, glistening heat. he exhaled loudly at the magnificent sight before him. you looked so stunning like that, completely content yet so flustered by his small movements on your thighs.

his fingers finally made there way to your damp core, and he wasted no time in giving your clit a firm press and rub from his thumb. you released a suppressed moan at his actions, your hands gripping the bed sheets with such force, your knuckle turned white. his thumb was suddenly removed and replaced with his wet tongue. he licked from the base up to the top of your clit, making you’re already damp core wetter.

“dean, more,” you whimper, “i need more.”

he instantly pushed a finger inside you at your request, slowly pumping at first. normally, you would have an felt uncomfortable stinging every time dom fingered you. but dean took care of you properly, making you feel like you were in ecstasy.

with each pump you grunted with a slight whimper, your breathes becoming shallower and unstable. dean took out his finger and left you feeling empty, as he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers together. he sat back on his heels and kneeled down on the bed, grabbing you by the hips and sitting you on his lap.

“are you ready?” he whispered, “we can wait if you want.”

“no,” you wanted this, “please go on.”

he took no time at all as he lifted your hips and settled them on top of his length, his width taking you by surprise. you arched your back against his chest, your breasts pushing against him flushed.

“dean keep going,” you breathed.

he started to push into slowly, starting a rhythm and a pace for the two of you. you rolled your hips onto him, eliciting a hiss from dean’s bitten lips.

the two of you had no struggle reaching your climaxes easily, both so desperate to make the other come undone. you were finally going to experience your first orgasm. no matter how many times dom had fucked you, you never got any enjoyment out of it. and your ex before that always came before you. so you were stuck in a cycle of almosts.

dean sucked along your neck and left dark marks all across the smooth expanse of skin and his thrusts became hard and rough, the sound of your skin hitting his.

“dean i’m gonna,” you yelped in surprise of the feeling that had exploded in your lower body. dean made one lay thrust and came with you, his breathes loud in your ear.

the two of you clutched each other as you caught your breath, all of your body touching the others. the city and star light lit up your glistening bodies, the glow off your incandescent skin.

“how was that?” dean mumbles into your neck, your hair muffling his words.

“it was..” you didn’t know how to describe how incredible that felt. you were overwhelmed with intense feelings, “amazing.”

he smiled at your eyes twinkling in the city light. dean got up to grab you a clean shirt to sleep in for the night, and some underwear for himself. you pulled the cosy shirt over your head, sighing contently as you looked over the city view.

he climbed in next to you and wrapped his sturdy arms around your waist, snuggling into your neck and back tightly. you giggled at his cuteness, surprised to see such a light hearted side to a mobster.

dean was unlike any other, he had a heart of gold that had been stolen and exploited. and your heart aches for him, and how misunderstood he must be.

“how did you get into this job then?” you were beating around the bush a little, you knew mobsters didn’t like their label. you turned around and rested your head in the crook of his shoulder.

“i was born into it, my dad used to be the head of our mob. but during a debt collection, he was surprise attacked and shot in the head. so i started working for them too, hoping to find my dad’s killer. i started off on routine deals and then started getting better with a gun and my fists. the new mob leader liked my dedication to the cause and so he started taking me out on collections like my dad did. i’ve been doing it ever since. but i’ve never killed. i mean i’ve fucked up a few faces here and there, but that’s it. i can’t put others through what i went through myself.”

you stayed silent and placed a kiss on his bare chest, showing your comfort in your actions. you wanted to show him how much you cared, so you snuggled even further into his side.

who knows what you were gonna do now. dean was a face from a few hours ago and he had already seen so much of you. he was your hero, whether or not he’d done his fair share of damage in the past. he may not see himself as a good guy, but you saw him as the best.

When You Say It Like That- Simon Imagine

Miniminter X Reader

Warnings: Smut

You and Simon broke up but at a party and discover you miss each other 

So this is roughly based on the song Say it by Flume (ft. Tove Lo) I just go the idea when i was listening to that song this morning so enjoy. Also sorry I haven’t written much lately I’ve been really busy and getting busier now but I’ll be trying my best to get stuff out so if you have any requests feel free :)

Keep reading

✿without thinking✿

↳ Simon x Reader

Requested: can you do a simon imagine where he’s just acting like a complete asshole to some guy who was hitting on you and there’s angst and fluff and stuff because you didn’t know he felt that way?

Warnings | swearing

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Bad Teacher pt. 1

It was the last hour of the day, and with the four hours of sleep you got last night combined with the completely uninteresting math lesson being reviewed in front of you, you couldn’t help it when your head began to nod and your eyes became too heavy to be forced open any longer. Giving up, you lie your head down on your crossed forearms, quickly drifting into a light sleep. You weren’t the type to sleep during class, but, given the conditions, you figured it would be fine.

No more than five minutes passed by before your teacher, Mr. Hemmings, slammed a heavy book down on the unoccupied desk in front of you. Bolting straight upright from your catnap, you looked up at the narrowed eyes of the young teacher in front of you, who wore a judging look upon his handsome, hard face.

“Sorry to bore you, Miss (Y/L/N), but I hope you will be considerate enough to put up with the remainder of the insipid review I’ve put together for you,” he stared at you harshly while you wiped the dried drool from your cheek. You avoided making eye contact with the man, assuming he would walk away and continue the review, having already embarrassed you in front of the whole class, but he continued, “I imagined you would appreciate it, considering the upcoming mid-term will be composed of the first five chapters in this unit; pardon me for attempting to make your life easier.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a small sigh, not agreeing that your power nap was the end of the world, as your teacher thought it was. Again, he spoke loudly, “You want to roll your eyes just one more time?” He dared you, pushing his large hands into his pant pockets. You felt your cheeks growing bright red as you noticed the stares of all your classmates, some of them giggling with their neighbors. “Well?” He questioned you again, his voice was hard, reminding you to choose your words carefully.

"No,” was all you could quietly choke out.

"Excuse me?”

"No, sir,” you spat, louder this time, glaring at him.

He stared down at you with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow before responding, “See me after class,” and turning sharply on his heel before clearing his throat and continuing the lesson in his regular tone.

You put your head in your hands, wondering what crawled up his ass and died. All day long, you had looked forward to getting home before your parents arrived and began their nightly drunken brawling, but now it looked like you would get just as much sleep as last night, if not less.

After staring down every tick and every tock of the clock, its hands finally reached 2:42, and the bell dismissed each of my classmates, who scurried out of the room as quickly as they possibly could without trampling the body in front of them.

You gathered your things and slowly shuffled to Mr. Hemmings’s desk, where you stood in front of him, but did not meet his icy blue stare. After standing like this for what felt like forever, he finally cleared his throat, making you meet his gaze and attempt to swallow the lump that had lodged itself in your own.

"So, (Y/N),” he began slowly, “would you care to explain to me why you were sleeping in my class when you are well aware of our no-sleeping-in-my-class policy?” He raised his eyebrows while resting his chin on his intertwined fingers. Again, you averted your eyes, feeling sweaty under the intensity of his unwavering stare.

In response to his question, you just shrugged; you were unwilling to discuss the conditions of your private life with the man who had just barked at you like a military sergeant in front of your peers.

You heard him sigh loudly as he stood from his rolling chair. Glancing up, you furrowed your brows as he made his way to the front of his desk; there was now less than three feet between the two of you. You swallowed again, still attempting to remove the lump from your throat. Leaning against the front of his desk, he crossed his arms. “You are usually a very attentive student in my class, as well as the rest of your classes,” he spoke as he tilted his head back and licked his plump lips. For a moment, you wondered if he had asked your other teachers about your classroom behavior, but shrugged it off as unimportant. “Lately, though, you seem to have trouble focusing, and even staying awake,” he nodded in the direction of your desk, obviously referring to the incident that happened just twenty minutes earlier.

Again, he stood, creeping toward you one step at a time. With every step he took, your breath seemed to catch in your throat as you looked him up and down, from his neatly quiffed hair to his tight black dress shirt, which hugged every muscle he possessed perfectly, to his matching black dress pants, which were just as tight, all the way down to his shiny black dress shoes, and all the way back up. When you reached his clear blue eyes, he towered above you while standing less than a foot away from you. Given the close proximity, you were drowned in the smell of his earthy cologne. Inhaling deeply, you searched his face, trying to decipher his motives. A look of concern lived upon his face, and he lifted his arms to place both of his hands upon your shoulders while staring deeply into your eyes; your breath hitched at the contact.

"You know, (Y/N), you can tell me anything.” At the soft tone he spoke with, you trusted him, but you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so harsh during class, but so kind now.

When you lowered your head to look at your shoes, inspecting them to avoid replying to the man, he stepped closer to you, not leaving any space between your bodies as he wrapped his arms around your figure. With wide eyes, you slowly wrapped your own arms around your teacher’s muscular shape, not knowing if you should be hugging your teacher.

You gasped as you felt Mr. Hemmings’s hands rubbing small circles down your back until they finally reached your butt. Your hands tightly gripped his shirt as his own hands squeezed your ass, to which he let out a soft groan.

“God, (Y/N), your ass is incredible,” he continued kneading your bottom and he began placing light kisses on the nape of your neck.

“Um, Mr. Hemmings,” you stuttered as you slightly pushed against his body, trying to create some space. You could feel the wetness of your throbbing heat growing as you panted, although you would never admit that.

He mumbled in response, just enough to let you know he could hear you, while he lifted your skirt to play with your panty-covered ass. Silently, you thanked yourself for wearing a cute pair of underwear.

“What are you doing?” Your face was bright red as you, once again, put less than half of your effort into pushing him away. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” you lied, wanting nothing more than to be doing this.

He whipped you around and bent you against the cold, wooden desk. His fingertips dug into your hips as he stared at the curvature of your ass and the way your black lace panties hugged your bottom just right. He pressed himself against you and began grinding into your ass, making you cover your mouth to muffle the loud moan that escaped.

He bent down over you to whisper hotly in your ear, “So you’re telling me you don’t want this?” Slowly, he thrusted into your backside. You kept your hand over your mouth as yet another moan slipped by your lips. Shaking your head, you hoped he would see through your lie. Behind you, he stilled for a moment before reaching a hand down to feel your aching heat through your panties. You groaned as he rubbed you through your soaked underwear. Moving the fabric to the side, he rubbed small circles into your clit, making you cover your mouth again to refrain from calling out and drawing the suspicion of passersby.  

“This part of you doesn’t seem to be so sure of that.” You didn’t even have to look at him to know that he wore a cocky smirk on his face. Lying your head on the cool desk as you bit your lip, he asked you another time, “Are you sure you don’t want this, (Y/N)? All you have to do is say no,” he spoke softly into your ear. As much as you wanted to tell him to stop to not give him the satisfaction of having you so vulnerable, you could not bring yourself to give even the slightest shake of your head.

His body weight was removed from on top of you, but as you started to turn around to look for him, you were quickly turned back around and your head was pushed into the desk, making you gasp. From behind you, you heard Mr. Hemmings say, “Be a good girl and sit still.” Although you wanted to disobey him and see what he was doing, you thought it best to do as he said. A moment later, you felt the man’s large hands push your thighs apart and hold them in place. Seconds after that, his tongue dove in between your folds, slurping up your wetness and licking every inch of your pussy.

“Mr. Hemmings!” You exclaimed and whimpered as he did this. Your back arched to help him find more areas to lick. You could no longer hold back your voice as the man between your thighs sucked on your clit, making your legs shake. A long finger eased itself inside of you, twisting around and stretching your pussy, making way for what was to come. A slight burn accompanied the finger, but you still felt a knot growing inside of your stomach as your teacher continued to work on you.

“I-I think,” you were cut short by Hemmings adding another finger, making you wince slightly, but the pain quickly subsided as he curved his fingers up into you, hitting a spot inside of you that felt better than anything else. You curled your toes inside your shoes as your vision was blurred and white dots appeared in front of your eyes. “Oh, god,” you whimpered quietly as you felt the knot inside of you burst and you came around your teacher’s fingers.

He turned you around to make you sit upright on the desk and watch as he licked his fingers clean, making you tilt your head back and moan softly. He pulled you forward into him, making your lips meet for the first time. As you opened your mouth, he inserted his tongue, allowing you to taste yourself on him.

After he pulled back, he placed his hands on either side of you and asked, “Has any boy ever made you feel so good?” As he placed small kisses on your collarbone. Slowly, you shook your head, still dazed from your prior orgasm. Pulling away from you with a smirk on his face, he asked, “What’s the farthest you’ve ever gone with a guy?” He pecked your lips with a small kiss.

You avoided his gaze and question, feeling the blush find its way to your cheeks yet again. His hand reached your chin and turned your head to look at him. “I asked you a question, Miss,” he said sternly, narrowing his eyes again, “and, as your teacher, I expect an answer.”

You swallowed before quietly mumbling, “Nowhere.”

He cupped around his ear and asked you to speak up.

You let out a deep breath before saying, “I’m a virgin,” and looking him in the eyes. The smirk was wiped off his face and he took a step back, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“I, uh,” he started slowly, “did not know that.”

This time you were the one to narrow your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest and asking, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He seemed to panic as he tried explaining himself, “No, I, uh, didn’t mean that I think you’re easy or anything, I just assumed because most seniors nowadays have, you know, uh, had sex, and such.”

“Well, I haven’t found anyone who I’m willing to give it to yet.”

You were both silent for a minute before you stepped onto the ground and walked over to him, pulling him down by his tie into a passionate kiss. “Until now,” you said shyly as you pulled away from him.

The cocky smirk returned to his handsome face as he watched you straighten your skirt and skirt before gathering your things. “I’ll see you tomorrow in detention, (Y/N),” he called after you as you opened the door and walked away.

Use The Spare Bedroom

Summary: Phil starts bringing boys home. Dan starts tweeting song lyrics. 

Word Count: 3436

A/N: List of songs referenced at the end. 


It started one Friday night. Dan was sprawled out on the couch. Laptop up and open to tumblr. He was settled for the night.

Then Phil came out of his room. He was in black jeans and a button up shirt.

‘I’m going out with some friends from uni.’ He announced.

'Oh.’ Dan took a few moments to process the information. 'Since when?’

'About forty-five minutes ago. I got a message and I thought why not?’

'Why not.’ Dan echoed.

'So… I’m not sure how late we’ll be out. Don’t wait up for me.’

'Ok.’

Dan didn’t normally get to bed until about 2am on a normal night. He sort of thought he would see Phil come in before he headed off to retire for the night. But at 1.30am when he was heading off there was still no sign of Phil whatsoever.

He was woken up at 3am to the sound of a door slamming.

'Sshh.’ Followed by a giggle. 'My roommate is asleep.’

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Triplets - Smut

Warnings: NSFW Smut!!!!!!!!!

Pairing: StuartxReader

Word Count: 2.1k

Disclaimer: So this is a Stilinski Triplets smut and I tried so hard to make it good so I hope you love it. Ily!!! And Request!!!

Originally posted by teaaaaa-po

New school, new me, you thought to yourself. Pushing through the bulky blue rust covered doors of Beacon Hills High School. You thought to yourself that you would have never thought of moving during your senior of high school. But low and behold your parents picked the most utterly inconvenient time to move because that’s who they were, a big giant pain in the ass. Your life was great in L.A, you had friends, a boyfriend, and you were captain of the cheer team. So when you got the news that you were moving about 100 miles from your old home you were not too thrilled. So now you weren’t the popular one, or the smart one, or the cool one. You were just Y/n, no one knew you, and you knew no one.

First Period: English

Walking into the class you of course got the stares of many, which wasn’t a big deal if there wasn’t a pair of honey eyes staring at you as well. Whoever he was he was gorgeous, moles freckled around his jaw, hair quiffed in the perfect manner, and his eyes… his eyes were amazing. A blush spread throughout your cheeks at you trying not to look at him for too long.   The loud ringing of the bell startled you, and a loud voice of a not-so-pleasant sounding man roared from behind you. “Hey Blondie, what are you doing?” You didn’t understand why he had to yell. “Oh I’m new, I’m Y/n.” You handed him your schedule, his eye brows raised, “Alright, you sit behind Stilinski.” Turning forward, having really no clue who this ‘Stilinski’ person was. Turning back to “Coach” you asked who that was. “Stilinski raise your hand.” He says not even looking back up at you. When you turned around you were meet with not one, not two, but three hands in the air. They all looked alike but they all looked completely different at the same time. Your eyes widened at the sight of three boys in three completely different parts of the room, completely different outfits, and had completely different ways they were looking at you. The one on the far right next to the window, had a blue v-neck on, his hair was quiffed but not like the one you saw before his was more done up. He looked very nervous. The one in the middle back of the room, he had a beanie on, and his phone completely glued to his hand at all times. He tried to look like he couldn’t care less but it didn’t work you could see it in his eyes that he cared too much. The on the far left on the room, the honey eyed one, had a flannel on and a smirk on his face as you were looking at the other two boys.

“Which one?” You asked seriously, but the whole class erupted into laughter. Coaches yelling cause the commotion to calm down, “The one in the blue.” He said. The one in the blue, okay sure lets pick the one who looks like he’s about to throw up, why not. Strutting over to the desk behind him, he didn’t even give you a second look then went right back to his notebook, the page covered in x and o signifying that he was writing football plays.

Lunch:

 After a long four periods that surprisingly went very well. You had met some new girl friends who welcomed you in very quickly and all your classes were surprisingly really great. Walking into the lunch room you got a text from ‘Lydia’ who was one of the 4 girls you met during your third period class. The text read to meet them at one of the outside lunch table. When walking to them you could make out a figure that looked very familiar to you. The one guy who met your eyes with right as you walked into English class. Getting closer you could see that his arm was draped around Lydia so you obviously couldn’t go for that anymore. But that’s okay the other two intrigued you more. Lydia introduced you to everybody that was at the table which included: Lydia, Allison, Kira, Malia, Scott, Stiles, Liam, and Issac. They were all really nice and made you feel right at home. Your curiosity got the best of you and you had to ask, “So you and your brothers are triplets?” It caught him off guard but only for a second, then he laughed out. “Yeah Stuart and Thomas. There my brothers, obviously.” He laughed again. You couldn’t help but ask another question, “So which ones which?” He and the others started to go on and on about the two boys, Thomas was athletic and popular, while Stuart inherited the brains and wit, so did Stiles but Stuart go more of it. Also Stiles claimed he got the looks even though they all looked the same. But he insisted. And Stuart was the one with his phone glued to his fingers and Thomas was the one who looked like he was about to throw up looking at you. This otta be interesting. The last 4 classes were great and no triplets in them, but Gym was my very last period and that had Thomas in it. But all was normal, or so you thought.

The next day:

 Was like any other, you got to first period English and instantly Stiles insisted to be your partner for the group project, which you were really happy about because you could hang out with him and get the deeds on his brothers. Which you have found an attraction to. After the period you and Stiles discussed that you would be meeting at his house to finish the project. You were quiet happy about that because you wanted to check them out and learn little more about all of them. The bell rang signaling you for your next class, yours and Stiles stuff was strung out all over the two desks so you both were the last two out of the class room. “Where are you going?” He questioned. “Chemistry.” You said with an eye role which made him laugh. Stiles was cool but totally not the type of guy you were looking for. His attention went from you, too his brother Thomas. “Hey ass-hat bring back my Lacrosse stick.” His brother just gave him an eye role. “See you later; I’ll text you if anything comes up.”  And then he was off, this was about to be an interesting night.

Knock, Knock, Knock:

Three steady knocks on the wood door with the mail box besides it read; “Stilinski”. Your heart was pounding and you were hoping and praying that Stiles would be the one to open the door. The click of the lock and the yank of the door almost made you want to pass out. And of course not, of course it wasn’t Stiles. Stuart stood in front of you with his school outfit hanging off of him. He was definitely the cockiest Stilinski boy. He always had the ‘I’m-better-than-you look’ all the time and this time he was looking at you and it wasn’t any different. “Hi.” You said sheepishly and shy. “Can I help you?”  He spat back, your shy left your body and your bitch came right out to play. “Yeah actually I’m looking for Stiles, so if you could go and get him that would be peachy, thanks.” His face softened and he almost looked hurt. Almost. “Yeah well he’s not here.” He walked away from the wide opened door. “You’re welcome to wait if you’d like.”  He said plopping onto the sofa that looked like the leather was from the late seventies. The house was nice; but you could tell only boys lived there because of the mess evrywhere.

After about the most awkward hour of your life, you decided to go home, Stiles wasn’t answering his phone, and you were just about done with the small talk with Stuart. “I’m going to go because I’m obviously just an annoyance to you.” He chuckled deeply. And something tinged in your core. “Where you going baby? We had so much more to talk about.” Right as you turned around to say a snarky comment, you were met with pair of two big brown eyes and soft pink lips. He was close to you, to close, you tried to back up but your back was suddenly met with the door behind you. His warm breath casketed onto your face and in that moment you have never felt more safe and secure. “You know, you should be a little nicer to me, you are in my house after all.” You could tell he was nervous but excited. And you could also tell this wasn’t his first time with a girl because he knew all the right moves. “Make me.” You spoke out into a silent whisper. After that your legs were wrapped around his waist and dirty make out session was in place. You could tell he was walking up the stairs, because he had an even tighter hold than he did before on your ass. The kiss ended when both of you had to catch your breath. You were in his room now, the slightly messy but organized space fuelled your imagination and you could help but think, ‘this guy must be really smooth to get me in here so fast’. “Now we want to play naughty? Or, do we want to play nice?” He spoke. He was hot, like really hot, there was always this gorgeous smirk plastered on his face, he made your heart melt even though you have only known him for a few days. “What ever you want honey, you’re the boss, I mean this is your house isn’t it?” You spoke low with the sexiest voice you could find yourself doing. A low growl came from him, and then he lunged at you taking his shirt off in the process.

Tangled limbs left you both in just your underwear. His mouth started to travel down the valley of your boobs, and make his way to your stomach. The hickies he left on you were a dark lilac color and were in every spot noticeable. When he got to your pussy he wasted no time ripping off your undies and eating you out like it was his last meal. “Fuck Stuart.” You screamed when your orgasm came crashing down onto you. Your whole body shook from the enormous amount of pleasure, and you were sure you had never cum that hard in your life. “Wow baby girl that was hot, but no time for sex cause Thomas is almost home and when I fuck you, I want to hear you scream.” With that he helped you get dressed. Apologizing for ripping your underwear and claiming he will buy you knew ones. As the two of you got dressed and down the stairs stopping at every second to kiss and touch on another. He walked you too your car and said your good bye’s. He was sweet and gentle appose to being rough and dominating just five minute’s earlier. You knew that wouldn’t be the last time you two did that.

The next day:

All you remember from getting home was: eating some leftover cold pizza and crashing in your room half naked. So when you woke up in the morning half late from school you didn’t even bother looking in your mirror. You threw on the sexiest casual outfit you had and grabbed your makeup bag and headed out the door. Lydia was honking for a good ten minutes, before you actually made it out side. And she made sure to lecture you about waking up on time. You did your makeup on the ride there, and you thought you looked pretty good. When walking through the halls, you got some strange looks from a few people. You had no clue why but you continued on your way to your locker to get your stuff. Opening it and placing your bad inside, you felt a presence to the left on you and you turned to look that way. Thomas stood there in a simple white tee and some kaki joggers on looking as ‘fuck boyie’ as ever. “So how was my Brother?” You were taken aback for a bit. But then cooled down and asked calmly. “How do you know about that?” You raise your eye brows at him and he lets out a loud chuckle. “I heard you two, and it’s not hard to tell considering you have his signature hickie on your neck.” You panicked and looked into your locker mirror, there was one hickie just to the left of your neck and now you knew why they were all looking at you. You might as well just wrote ‘I had sex’ on your forehead with how obvious it was. Thomas walked away leaving you in shock and confused on how he knew, he wasn’t even home. Or so you thought.

Oh Hell No.

Shocking, Right? [a Barry Allen AU]

a/n: there was a request but…i lost it. did you need more stripper!barry cuz I needed more stripper!barry


“Who the fuck are you and why the fuck do you have my face?!” Barry seethes, trapping his leather-clad doppelgänger against the wall, forearm pressed to his throat. Earth one Barry cringes slightly, squeezing one eye shut with his slender face turned. “I’m not asking again.” he grits his teeth, squaring his bare shoulders. “You were in my house, near my daughter… I swear, if you don’t answer…” he vibrates his hand, scowling.

How did Barry get into this situation? Think, think… “Why am I a stripper?!” Earth one Barry blurts out, gulping. His light green eyes travel down his double’s body; thick eyebrows furrowed together. “And why do I have a belly button piercing?!” he adds in, frowning, eyes creeping back upward. “And earrings?!”

“Gauges.” Earth four Barry corrects, shifting on his black Vans. Honestly, this guy is really getting on his nerves. “And by you, you mean me. Also, why the fuck have you been following me? If you’re even thinking about my wife or my daughter, I’ll kill you.” he says blankly, squinting. “Who do you work for? I thought I made it clear to Snart…” he huffs, tugging on one of the backs of his small black gauges.

A sound of confusion exits the hero and he cocks his head to the side. “I have a daughter?” Barry breathes, pale forehead crinkling. “With Iris?” he questions, tucking his chin. The evil him blinks, shaking his head. “With who? Who would have a kid with a stripper?!” he mumbles; feeling guilty when the other him growls. Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

The door to the safe house creaks open and Earth four Barry covers his doppelgänger’s mouth. “Barry?” your tired voice echoes in the air as you curl your arms to your chest. “Are you out here? I…” you yawn, “I only have two more hours with you…” you frown, resting your head on the doorframe. It’s almost time for his next heist.

His lips flip down; he peers behind him. “Yeah, babydoll, I’ll be there in a minute, okay? Stay with Ellie.” Barry calls out. “I love you.” A second later you say it back, closing the door. Earth one Barry stares at him with wide eyes, backing up slightly. “What? Y/N and I… She’s my babydoll.” he smirks, “Now, would you leave? I don’t want you near my daughter.” he bites, stepping back and crossing his arms over his pale chest. His abs scrunch slightly, hiding the silver ring.

Earth one Barry gulps, “Okay…” he breathes, running a hand through his quiffed hair. “This is crazy…” he mumbles, speeding off,

A grunt escapes Barry’s plump lips and he spins on his heel. “I’m coming, baby…”

Coffee on me - chapter two

A Kwon Jiyong/ G-Dragon Fanfiction

Description: She moved to Seoul in search of stardom, but after one year all she has is a douche for a boyfriend, and a job at a cafe that pays minimum wage. after a particularly bad day she starts to wonderif she should pack her bags and head home, but when kwon jiyong strolls into her cafe she begins to wonder if things might start going her way… that is until she spills his coffee on him.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: mentions of alcohol abuse, fluffy fluffy Jiyong

A/N: sorry it took literally forever for chapter two but here it is! and boy does this plot get thicc!

Another week came, and with each ring of the service bell I forgot more and more about the cute customer with a gummy smile. Focusing on making aesthetic latte designs while juggling angry customers makes it almost impossible to dream about a certain sunshine haired boy.

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boneyard

Pansy Parkinson was the type of girl to end her love letters in x’s and o’s.

Except her x’s were bones and her o’s were skulls and her love letters were always more like death threats taped to her lover’s locker.

She wore black lipstick and choker necklaces and was the kind of crafty, never-present student all the teachers despised, yet she managed to be top of the class ever single fucking time and it drove everyone mad.

She smelled of peppermint and looked like Persephone’s softest daydream. Her kisses were sweet and her punches were like cotton candy.

Pansy was possessive. Like the moon in the sky, desiring every eye to fall upon her precious being.

And when she wanted something, she would stop at nothing to ensure she was queen of it. All the boys were afraid of her and all the girls idolized her.

With her perfectly manicured midnight-colored nails and her ironed pleated mini skirt, she practically owned the school.

Yeah.

That is, until she works her way through an entire bag of exceptionally well-charmed licorice meant to bring tangibility back to the dead.

In her state, though—her very alive state—she transforms into a ghost.

 A fucking ghost.

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anonymous asked:

That pic of Tarjei where he's filming his new TV show gives me some rich bad boy vibes haha! Somebody write the fic *cough* *cough* haha :D

RIGHT?

The slicked back hair and narrowed gaze? He’s seriously giving me some wealthy bad boy son of a powerful business man vibes. I can just picture him rolling up to the school in a Porsche or Lamborghini or some outrageously expensive car with the weird doors that open up instead of out, and then he climbs out one black skinny-legged jean clad leg at a time and just- grins at all of the teenagers staring at him. And maybe winks.

And when I’m thinking this, I’m thinking he’s out and proud, so he doesn’t flinch away at the obvious appreciation a couple of the guys (and so many of the girls because that’s Isak fucking Valtersen it doesn’t matter which way he swings he’s a fucking god.

But he doesn’t return it either because standing in the midst of the stares and grins, is a tall boy in a cool denim jacket and Raybands- hair quiffed and shiny- greeting his arrival with an expression that would seem bored to anyone else, but that’s only because they can’t see the mirth underneath. (Let’s say Even circa beginning of the season when Isak watched him stride through the yard to his friends.)

And Isak wouldn’t hesitate, strutting through the schoolyard with a cool gaze, nodding at friends and admirers and until he manages to make his way to Even, who just throws an arms around Isak’s shoulder and they make their way into the school’s entrance.

And everyone just watched them go because Isak and Even? 

They are the fucking power couple of the school.

6

Scott Caan Rides The Hollywood Wave His Own Way


There are few actors left in the world today who you could rightly refer to as ‘legend’. James Caan is one of them. Rather than let the weight of that name drag him down Scott Caan reveals how he carved out his own piece of the entertainment world and beyond.


“I’m a high-school drop-out,” Scott Caan says, laughing all the way from Oahu, Hawaii. The 40-year-old actor and LA native is taking time out of shooting the hit CBS show, Hawaii Five-O.  Earlier in the day he visited the beach and squeezed in a session with his jujitsu instructor – as far a high school drop-outs go, he’s not doing too badly. He goes on, “I knew school wasn’t for me. Everybody in high school was thinking about what college they could go to or where to apply…and I was thinking about how not to go to the 11th grade.”


He is of course joking – in reality, Caan grew up in California as the son of the legendary actor James Caan and spent his childhood being immersed in the business of Hollywood. You might recognise him as the brash, blonde quiffed quick talker in Entourage, the crisp Turk Malloy in the Ocean’s 11 series or the slick detective Danny ‘Danno’ Williams in the long running hit Hawaii Five-O. It’s perhaps unsurprising then that he realised at an early age that academia wasn’t for him and there was an option to pursue his passion to be creative.


“My dad didn’t want me to get into the business,” laughs Caan. ”He knew it would be hard to do this job over and over again and it’s creatively hard to get excited about playing the same dude for seven years.  My dad is probably one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.  When you’re young you don’t see your father as a legend, you just know that he’s an interesting, colourful, wild kinda cat and you think, ‘I want to be like that guy’. If you come from creative people it’s just in you.”


The creative impulse is something, it seems, that was in his blood from the very beginning. Caan has done almost everything – music, surfing, photography, acting, directing. As a teenager in the early 90s he co-founded the hip hop collective The Whooliganz with his long time producer friend, The Alchemist, after gorging on artists like Nas, A Tribe Called Quest and Eric B & Rakim.  At the time when B-Boy culture was making its way to LA from New York, Caan was beginning his love of counter-cultural art forms. “Hip hop was our punk,” he says. “It became the biggest culture in the world but at the time it was us being misfits. Graffiti, B-Boying, MCing and breakdancing was a way for us to be like, ‘we don’t wanna be on the football team, we don’t want to be on the baseball team, we wanna do this’.”


“At 15, I didn’t look up to the captain of the football team, I didn’t look up to the guys getting the best grades, I looked up to the guys in Venice [Beach], the guys smoking weed and surfing at the breakwater.”


Wanting to navigate his way through the world away from the preoccupations of the mainstream is a theme of Caan’s creative life away from acting. Now, the slick aesthetic of designer surf wear and slick surfers being captured on Instagram looks aspirational but, for Caan, it was the countercultural aspect of the culture that appealed to him as a teenager back in the 80s. “Surfing and skateboarding was our way of saying ‘fuck you’,” he says. “At 15, I didn’t look up to the captain of the football team, I didn’t look up to the guys getting the best grades, I looked up to the guys in Venice [Beach], the guys smoking weed and surfing at the breakwater.


“Now you have 13-year-old girls getting boards for their birthday. You go surfing and there’s guys pulling up with Range Rovers and long boards sticking out of their cars. All that stuff used to be underground and punk and now it’s mainstream. For us, it was our world, our version of being outcasts.”


He cites the infamous 2001 skating documentary Dogtown and Z -Boys as a good representation of what the culture felt like at the time – “skating is what we did when there were no waves” – and, for him, it was the freedom of being in open water that spoke to him. Today he still surfs as a way to force himself to reflect on ‘the moments.’ Its power might be why he now also works with A Walk On Water, a charitable organisation that seeks to use surfing as a tool to support children with special needs.

“I surf today because there’s something about being in the water – when you’re surfing a wave there’s really nothing to trip on. There’s really nothing else but the moment. It’s just something I don’t know how to explain.” For someone who lives in the highly structured world of Hollywood, the option to shrug off the tight structure of work life is understandable.


Article by Jolyon Webber

Luke Hemmings - My Dirty Little Secret

Pairing: Luke and Y/N

Word Count: 5.6k+

Rating: smut smut smut

Requested: Nah

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Imagine signing up to carry an Alien Fetus to term ...

(All characters 18+)  

Part 1         

PART 2

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, right? HAVE YOU GONE COMPLETELY FUCKING INSANE!!!” Doug yells at you across your master bedroom. You sigh deeply and scrape back your quiffed locks. “Sweetie…”

“DON’T YOU DARE!! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW CRAZY THIS IS? WHERE DO I FIGURE IN THIS? OR AFTER EVERYTHING WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH, DO I, ONLY YOUR FUCKING HUSBAND, SUDDENLY NOT FACTOR IN ANYMORE?”

“Doug, this is something I really want to do!” You plead with him to see your side.

“At what cost John? We’ve never had secrets!” A sharp intake of breath kept Doug’s tears at bay for now. “You got me back from the brink of cancer! All those long and painful days as my wounds healed, the physiotherapy, the horrible days of my looking at my mutilated body with you holding me and comforting me, the uncontrollable grief at no longer feeling like a true man. Then you’re asking me to marry you. Our wonderful life so far! I may have only lost my testicles and half my lymph nodes but I’m beginning to seriously worry that you’ve lost your damn mind! I thought I knew better of you than just springing this on me!”

There’s a very long painful pause as tears fall singly from each of your eyes.

“I …….. I just don’t know you anymore!”

Doug sobs as he grabs a bag and storms for the door. The lamp causes your wedding ring to shine into your field of vision and you cringe into your sobs as the door slams behind you. Shuddering at the sound, you look over at your picture on the bedside table, slumping down the wall in tears at your now suddenly very quiet and very lonely apartment.

The sunrise pulls you from your thoughts as a new day begins. It’s been 13 hours since Doug left, you quietly pick up the receiver and dial the number of your mother in law. It rings several times.

“Hi, you’ve reached Kathy and Robin. We’re sorry we can’t come to the phone right now but if you’d like to leave a message we’ll get back to you.” BEEP …..

You breathe slowly ….

“Kathy, its Johnny. Doug and I had a fight. If he’s there could you please, please get him to call my cell. I start work in an hour. Thanks honey. I love you all ……. Bye!”

Leaving the bedroom you notice Doug has taken his keys from the dish and you are a little more settled in your mind that he intends to come back.

Arriving at the clinic, you look as bad as you feel, big dark circles under your eyes, your skin has taken a pale and pallid appearance. The blonde and always chipper receptionist, Debbie, warmly greets you as you place your camera case upon the counter.

“Morning John, Doctor Graham is in the Suite but he asked me to direct you to the side viewing room. It’s along the corridor, third door on your right. A security guard will verify your ID as you enter.”

“Thanks darlin!” You say quietly.

Upon entering the viewing room you are waved to by Mac, clad as always in his green medical scrubs, hair cap and surgical mask. His gloved hands held ready for the latest arrival. You hear cries of pain and repeated shouting of the word “No!” as the latest pregnant lad is hustled into the Suite. He looks to be in his early twenties and with a Hispanic heritage. This one has one ripe belly indeed, gown opened to observe, the unborn fetus thumping visibly against and distorting the tightly curved skin. He is sweating profusely amidst being restrained by guards on both sides, his hands are pulled from his belly and held behind his back. They soon strip him naked and get him on his back, arms shackled and legs tied together ready for summoning the pains of birth.

Mac walks around to him as you set up to begin filming. The lad sobs to him. “Doc, I can’t do this! It’s huge, everywhere it pushes out or moves it hurts. It bites me! I’m so scared! Oh shit, Please Doc, don’t make me do this! Huuuuuuuuuurhhhhh!” he lets out as he pushes his stomach up towards the usual delegation on the upper viewing gallery.

Mac rests his latex clad hand on the naked belly and moving his mask aside he looks into those striking eyes.

“Son, we have to do this. It’s only gonna keep growing until you rip open or it decides to eat its way out. You’ve gestated longer than the rest as we needed to see how well you perform. This is the final hurdle for you, you knew what you were signing up for. The money is there for you when all this is finished and you can start afresh! Just one final hurdle of pain and effort and it’ll all be over. I need to inject the Pitocen to encourage your womb to start labour and contractions alright? Don’t worry I’m here and the best hands you can have!”

The lad breathes heavily as he is poked just below his herniated bellybutton with the needle and injected with the drug.

Within minutes he hisses through his teeth, panting into a guttural cry of agony as his stomach visibly tightens and quivers in a strong first contraction that ruptures his sac, allowing the thick, blood tinged and slightly green amniotic fluid to burst out of his tight hole between his cheeks. The fetus awakens abruptly and thumps around in his belly, earning shrieks of pain every time it thrusts outward. The lad sweats almost immediately and his exposed skin is soon slick with it. Mac takes up position over the great belly and places his stethoscope in every conceivable place to observe the fetus directly.

Contractions come fast and hard as the lad struggles to weather the pain and audibly let’s the entire congregation know just what agony he is in. Mac soon has his legs untied and strapped into the stirrups as he starts pushing and screaming, Mac holding his belly with both hands, positioned between his sweat soaked, quivering thighs as he grunts and bulges up his belly with the efforts of pushing.

You notice this time that his hole is bulging outwards, stretching open around something large.

A full hour later, filled with screams, pushing and bulging, your orgasm contained by your shorts, the lad has screamed himself hoarse and slaps his belly back down onto the table as he stops his latest efforts, Mac fumbling around between his legs. The squirming and bouncing around in his belly is the strongest it’s been since the onset of labour and he begins breathing rapidly and thrashing around, trying to escape as a set of teeth begin to dent outward on his slick skin to the left of his bellybutton. He finds his voice as the jaws try to bite downward. Mac, observing aghast at what is happening, rushes to his aid and slaps his belly where the teeth have positioned themselves. They suddenly disappear back within the womb but it’s already too late. The lad has passed out and is laying limp, belly still swollen up into the air as his vitals flatline. “Ahhhhh shit, it’s torn his womb! He’s bleeding out! CRASH CART PLEASE!” shouts Mac as he quickly grabs a scalpel and wastes no time in opening the huge, jumping belly and womb. The blood is obscene as it pumps out of the mangled belly onto the floor, Mac pulling out the aggressive alien as nurses begin resuscitation attempts. The thing tries to attack Mac as he slashes its umbilical cord with the scalpel, leaving bloody whack marks on his scrubs as he successfully gets it into isolation behind a glass partitioned holding cell. The nurses immediately begin chest compressions and rescue breaths as Mac administers a continuous blood transfusion. He then sets about repairing the poor, traumatised body before him, grimly having to perform a complete hysterectomy as the nurses rejoice at regaining a faint heartbeat. Mac wipes the sweat from his brow, leaving a smear of blood as he starts stitching up.

It’s another twenty minutes before Mac, bloody and exhausted sends the poor lad into Intensive Care and pulls off his blood splattered mask and cap. The angry alien newborn still jumping around aggressively, blood from its hosts belly still splattering the glass. Mac presses the cryogenic button and it’s instantly frozen solid with liquid nitrogen. Jaws agape and fiercely sharp teeth in a permanent grin.

You leave your camera stationary on its tripod, turned off. You walk to the door and let yourself into the Suite. The mess is awful. The metallic smell of congealed blood in the air is nauseatingly strong as you gag. Mac slams his fist down on the sweat soaked bed.

“His name is Jimmy, kicked out by his folks for being gay, he was hoping to start a family of his own one day, if he ever got off the streets!” Mac states as he grimly fingers the tattered remains of the shredded womb within the metallic organ dish. “Never gonna happen now ….” he breathes quietly as he turns back to stare at the frozen newborn in the cell then upon the congregated officials still standing sentry over the wrecked delivery Suite.

A male General pressed the comm button and spoke.

“Doctor Graham …. *sigh* …. I don’t know where to begin. We all agree that you performed magnificently. We are all in agreement that you did what you could and the fact that he is still alive is one true accomplishment. Your skill and performance under pressure really shone through today. To thank you would be patronising, so please take these words as the true compliment in that they are intended.”

A female surgeon wiped tears from her eyes and left the room first as they all took their leave, leaving Mac and yourself alone in the Suite. You both stand before the blood splattered glass of the holding cell.

“Jesus Christ Mac, its grotesque!” you say unable to take your eyes from it.

“It nearly killed him!” Mac says gently as he snipped the cell and nutrient rich cord from the placenta ready for analysis and processing. “It wasn’t fully matured to term, he still had a few days to go!”

Mac removed his gloves and placing a hand upon your shoulder, turned you to face him.

“Are you sure you really want this? Jesus John, think about this!” he pleads as you stare at him in complete shock.

“I have Mac! My god, Doug has left me, I’ve just witnessed the most harrowing delivery of my life and I’m still resolute in going ahead. The cells and research we can gain and my participation in this is what I want. I can’t wait to have one growing in my own belly. I can only hope Doug forgives me and comes back to me!”

Mac nods slowly and you both leave the Suite together. “You’re not the first guy to get off on having or playing with a preggo belly dude, I saw your dick the other day!” Mac states with a slight smirk. “Trust me mate, I’ll do everything I can to ensure you make it!”

“I know you will!” You say as your cell rings out in your camera bag.

Part 3 coming soon … :-)

greaser boy - part I

High school AU - bad boy!Bucky

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Characters: All the avengers, Peggy Carter, Loki

When a new student from Brooklyn joins the reader’s school, she doesn’t know what is in store for her. He is the epitome of trouble and she finds herself caught in his headlights. The more she resists, the harder it gets. Limits are tested and so is patience. Will she fall for the greaser boy with the bad reputation?

Word count:  1,294

A/N: I’m not sure if bad boy! Bucky is a thing, but I noticed the drought of these sort of imagines and decided to write one myself. Just imagine 1940s Bucky, with greaser style. Also, Peggy is in this because I thought, what the hell! If you want to be tagged just ask, I really don’t know how long this mini-series will be. 

All parts of Greaser Boy are on my masterlist

Originally posted by dead-rom4ncedsdsds

Originally posted by winter-barnes

“I’m telling you Y/N, Mrs. Dott hates me,” Your best friend, Nike exclaimed.

“That’s because you called her a bitch and you said she looked like the Stepmother from Cinderella,” You said.

“Hey, she had it coming. As for the Stepmother comment, the resemblance is uncanny,” She continued.

“And that’s why you’re gonna fail American Literature,” You added and adjusted the strap of your backpack.

The school campus was nearly empty except for the cross country team that was getting ready to practice. You and Nike had just finished your community service at the school library. She fiddled with the keys of her car and continued to talk about which teachers she suspects of hating her.

The school day was finally over and all you wanted to do was go home, order a pizza and continue watching Game of Thrones. There are perks of being a good student. You managed to get ahead on your homework and you found yourself stress-free. You were proud to say that you had a whopping five A’s in the grade book. Nike, on the other hand, was freaking out over missing assignments. Of course, you would lend her your completed homework to let her copy.

You and Nike weren’t exactly part of the ‘popular’ group, cause there is no popular group. There is only a handful of well-known students that are all friends and you happen to be a bit close with them.

Steve Rogers, captain of the football team. He has never lost a game ever since he started playing. He has a big heart and is the most down to earth person you’ve ever met. Steve’s girlfriend, Peggy Carter is an exchange student from England. Plenty have tried to woo her, but the Captain managed to capture her heart.

Tony Stark and Bruce Banner are the smartest students at the school. They take every AP class, are always creating new inventions and are both quite dashing. Together, with brilliant minds like theirs, they can put Isaac Newton to shame. Everyone is convinced they’ll find a cure for cancer. Tony is well known for being a player and rich, whereas Bruce is just a quiet person who always seems to be learning new things through books.

Natasha Romanoff is one of your close friends. You’ve known her since freshman year when the both of you were assigned partners for biology. She’s one of those girls that you don’t want to mess with. She will make your life hell if you do. Her best friend is Clint Barton. They’re inseparable. Two peas in a pod. Clint is the star basketball player of the team. He has never missed a shot. The team has an impressive winning streak thanks to Clint.

Thor is an interesting character. He and his brother Loki are always arguing over stupid, yet simple things that can be handled easily, but they exaggerate everything. They’ll argue over anything. Girls, who’s hair is better, the last slice of pizza. Nevertheless, they throw the best parties. Something insane happened at Thor’s party? That’s nothing new.

Sam Wilson is a certified ladies man. His good looks can kill. He has, not only girls but guys at his feet as well. Sam is on the soccer team. He’s one of the best goalies. Of course, he’s also Nike’s crush since sophomore year.

Wanda and Pietro Maximoff are also exchange students. They’re from Sokovia and have only been here a little less than a year. Pietro is one of the fastest runners as the school. He’s the reason the track team’s been getting more wins that loses. Wanda always goes to his meets to cheer him on. She’s his biggest supporter. Wanda is really sweet. You have two classes with her and you occasionally copy off each other’s homework and notes when one or the other wasn’t paying attention.

“Rumor has it, we’re gonna get a new guy,” Nike said.

“Who told you?” You asked and slid into the passenger’s seat.

“Margery,” She replied and started the engine. “She claims that he’s a total bad boy. I think he got kicked out his previous school for getting into a fight. He’s from Brooklyn. His name is James or something like that”

“Exactly what we need, another troubled kid that will fight anyone that looks into their direction,” You rolled your eyes.

“Watch yourself there Y/N,” Nike stated. “You might find yourself falling for him.”

“As if, the last thing I need is a distraction from my school work. I’m not gonna get into a good college if I’m in La La Land, thinking about a no-good guy,” You huffed.

“You never know, Y/N, you never know.”


You groaned and reached for your phone. Mornings were always such drags. From getting up early to eventually sitting on a chair in Music History. Your eyes squinted at the light coming from the screen.

8:15 AM

You were suddenly fully awake and you were very late. It was a race against time as you pulled on a T-shirt and a denim jacket over your shoulders. At that point, you didn’t care how crappy you looked.

Your father never worked on these days, so you asked him for a ride. Your parents never dared trust you to drive one of their cars. Not after you accidentally crashed into the fence and caused major damages to your Mom’s Subaru.

You walked as fast as you could across the English hall. First period was in the band room and even though Mr. Smith never marked anyone down for being late, you wanted to get there on time because you actually liked the class.

You turned the corner and crashed into something hard and sturdy. They reached out and grabbed onto you before you fell back, that would’ve made you look like a complete fool.

“Whoa there.”

You looked up and were faced with a very handsome guy. His blue eyes were filled with mischief. A small smile played at the corner of his lips. His brown hair was perfectly quiffed. He looked straight out of an 80s movie. A teenage heartthrob that was a total pantie dropper.

“Uh-yeah,” You stuttered, dumbfounded. You mentally smacked your forehead at how you fumbled with your words. This guy was hot.

“You okay there, doll?” He asked. Oh, my god, you said to yourself.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He released you from his grip and let you settle down in your own body.

“Gotta be careful, don’t want you to get hurt,” He continued. His black leather jacket, white shirt, dark jeans and Doc Martens screamed greaser. He definitely looked like a modern day greaser.

“I’m new here, any chance you can direct me to the correct classroom?” He asked. You tried to ignore the fact that his voice was dripping with velvet and sex. His gaze was on you. You could practically feel him burning holes in you. With a shaky hand, you took his schedule and examined it. After explaining to him where each class was, you realized you had two classes with him. Fifth and sixth.

“Thank you,” He smiled and you nearly melted. “I’m James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

This is the new guy Nike was talking about. He sure lived up to the explanation. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well Y/N I hope to see you around and if not, I’ll come find you. I want to see your pretty face again, doll.” He winked and turned on his heels before walking down the English hall. You released the breath you didn’t know you were holding. The conversation replayed in your head. Heat rushed to your cheeks when you remembered that he called you 'doll.’ You realized one thing: Bucky Barnes was gonna be trouble.