i wish you were my president

manicgunpixie  asked:

I wish you would write a fic where... how about your take on a fanfic of the perc'ahlia wedding? When during the year break did it happen? Who all knew? Was Tary best man? Did Cassandra preside?

Thank you, @manicgunpixie, for being my first ever ask! And with a great prompt, too! Enjoy :)

It was a day like any other. Percy and Vex were in the library studying up on Orcus, as they had been quite a bit over the last five or six months. Well, Vex was studying; Percy quietly watched her. Even now, went they spent all of their time together, he occasionally found himself suddenly overtaken with his love for her. As he watched her quietly reading and taking notes, working to make good on a promise to save her brother’s life, it happened again.

“I choose you,” he said, breaking the silence.

“What was that?” she asked.

“We haven’t gotten to choose many things in our lives, dear, but we do get to choose our futures. And I choose you.”

“Percival, are you proposing to me?”

“I think I am.”

From there, things happened rather quickly.

After a few minutes of discussion, Vex ran to gather and organize the short list of necessary people: Tary, Cassandra, and Keeper Yennen, as best man, maid of honor, and officiant respectively. She quickly went shopping for a white dress, but upon finding none to her liking in the Whitestone shops decided to wear her new, half-enchanted white dragon armor in its stead. When she arrived at the Temple of the Dawn, Cassandra was already waiting with a small bouquet of flowers for Vex, picked fresh from her own personal garden.

Percival was late. He rushed in, looking impeccable as always in his own ceremonial clothing, with a satisfied smile on his face. Behind him lumbered a happy Trinket. Somehow Percy had found an adorable bow-tie big enough to fit around the bear’s neck, but even more striking to Vex was the harness strapped around his middle. It held a small pillow to Trinket’s back, and even from far away her perceptive eyes, trained to look for shinies, caught a glimpse of metal atop it. Percy smiled at her incredulous face.

“I thought Trinket could be our ring-bear, but oh gods I already hate myself for the pun. And, well, I already had the rings. The de Rolos have hidden nooks and crannies that not even the Briarwoods could find, and these were my grandparents’. But if you don’t like them we could always take a trip to Emon and find something—”

Vex silenced him with a kiss. “I love it.”

All involved expected the small affair to remain secret, but of course that’s near impossible when royalty is involved. One of the acolytes saw the ceremony and told the head chef in the castle, who told his sister, who told their cousin, and soon the entirety of Whitestone learned of the new addition to the de Rolo family. And they all smiled, happy to see the de Rolos grow and heal and knowing that this was one more step on their city’s road to recovery.

I Wish You Would Write A Fic Where…

Professor Turned Call Boy | Taeyong Smut

Can I have a call boy smut with Taeyong? He’s your professor in Uni and you’re stressed so you want someone to help with that 😏 You call and ask for the one under the name “Taeyong” not thinking it would be him despite the same name? You’re both surprised, but he found you a sexy student so he does so anyways (really rough, and daddy kink?) Please and thank you 😊😊

Character: Taeyong (NCT) / gender neutral reader (*ignore the fem in the gif, I swear this is gn*)
Word Count: 2989

Warning: well, smut of course. bad language, slight name calling, no condom, creampie, rough daddy kink, teacher/student kink, call boy?? can’t think of anything else :) enjoy!

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Hillary Clinton Makes The Moral Case For Abortion Rights
...and reminds everyone that she is, in fact, a human being.

“Let us respect people’s convictions,” she said. “But never back down from our commitment to defend the ability of every woman to make these deeply personal decisions for herself. I wish there were common ground, but I know for sure it is higher ground.” 

“I’m a grandmother,” she said, “and much to the surprise of many, I am a human being. I’m also a person of faith who doesn’t take my positions lightly or come to them with a cavalier attitude.” 

“I believe that anyone who is opposed to abortion should be in favor of preventing unintended pregnancy, expanding economic opportunity and fighting for policies that actually support parenthood,” Clinton said. 


I apologize. Buoyed by our success in bed (and against your living room wall, your kitchen counter and that dreadful sofa), and my return to something approaching full recovery, I took on just a little too much on my return to Washington. This department doesn’t run itself, and if I’d left it much longer, the President would have had to put a new nominee before the Senate.

I think you’re now very clear on my feelings about giving up positions of power.

Still, a few calls and messages isn’t enough. I told myself I’d answer your most pressing question in person, but finding the time has been a victim to the mountains of bureaucracy that plague my days, not to mention your recent spaceship-banishing exploits. I’ve never noticed quite how much you flex when pushing tons of metal until now.

To answer that question though, of course I’m happy, Kara. Giddy. Satisfied. Thrilled and eager for more. Oh God, I want so much more. It takes considerable effort not to summon you at supersonic speed each night when I leave the office for the car, but I’m not sure I can hold out much longer. There’s so much I still need to know, details missing from this exciting narrative that only you can supply.

Did you repair the plaster where I shoved you against the wall? I find myself in meetings distracted by the thought of you in short dungarees and a bandana, a pot of spackle in hand. Did your throat hurt at all from the ways I made you scream? You seemed more surprised than I did, that I drew such a sound from you. Do the sheets always wrap around your hips like that? Your bare back is something a Grecian sculptor would weep to recreate, white cotton bunched around you like a gift I haven’t finished unwrapping.

As luck would have it, I just arranged my next trip back to National City, subject to Secret Service clearance. They weren’t entirely impressed by my impromptu trip a few days ago, so I’m playing by the rules for now. The President also sends her love, we had lunch just a little while ago and she was impressed by your recent victories. Perhaps love is overstating it, but fond wishes were definitely involved.

Hold on to that damn cane just a little longer. When I next see you I want you to snap it in half for me, before we get to anything else. You’re right, Kara. I am feeling much better. I really can’t wait to show you again just how much.

Find enclosed a stock certificate for shares in PepsiCo. With the amount of energy drinks you’ll be getting through, it seemed like a sound investment.

Impatiently yours,

Let Me Touch Your Fire (8)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 1200

Warnings: Angst and fluff!

Summary: You’re a mutant who was experimented on by Stryker. He changed your mutation so instead of feeling others’ emotions and transferring emotions to them, you can now only transfer emotions and you feel nothing.

A/N: Thanks everyone. I’m glad people liked this :)

Tagging: @imagine-that-100 @sexysamsungl @cassichaiser @sugakookiesandmochi @fanshortfictiondtory @loveyourselfcreateyourself @summerbabypjo @posessedobsessed @sumafamouxx @w1nterchild  @elaacreditava @sarcasticvodka @w1nterchild @97britt @stormy-thomas

Permanent Tag List: @meganlane84 @mizzzpink @bringmetheemobands @kimistry27 @fireandicewillsuffice @vacam79 @amrita31199 @badassbaker @feelmyroarrrr @aekr @sexy-sea-basss @isaxhorror @actual-bucky-barnes-trash @cassandras-musings @kimistry27 @mo320 @ssweet-empowerment

<– Previous Part

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So @moyabird​ sent me a message requesting more of this prompt fic about a forced marriage between Credence and Graves. (Originally a request from @kamikazesoundsociety who is too good to me, tbh). Technically what I wrote is longer than I would usually post on Tumblr and also it’s totally unedited.

But this is what I did with my weekend.

WARNINGS: idk I implied lots of sketchy stuff but no one does anything sketchy. It’s blink and you’ll miss the implication sketchy.

Rated T for heavy kissing.

“I could officiate the ceremony,” Seraphina says, after she’s put Credence back in a cell with armed guards.

“And?” Percival asks.

“Well,” she begins. “There are certain ways to enchant objects — a ring, perhaps — which limit the wearer’s magic. Something which would prevent him from using his magic against you or any of us.”

Percival looks at her. He knows the kind of magic she’s speaking about. It has an ugly history: It was last legally used on a wizard who was found guilty of using magic in assistance of a No-Maj revolt in Louisiana in 1811.

It seems to be an endorsement of how serious Seraphina finds this problem that she would even suggest it.

“Absolutely not,” Percival says.

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Why   /part 16/

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6, 7 , 8 , 9, 10 , 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

I turned around slowly, cautiously, and gave Soryu a confused look.

“…What do you mean they were going to kill me?” I asked and gradually made my way deeper into the ally where Soryu stood. He looked down and scratched his neck, looking ashamed.

“I’m sorry I got you into this mess. I’ve hurt you trying to protect you. I knew the risks and consequences and yet like an idiot I went the easy way instead of fighting for you.” Completely baffled, I stood in front of him and reached out before flinching. I…do I really want to touch him? Shaking my head, I leaned against the wall.

“Explain.” I said.

He looked up at me for a second before sighing and straightening up, becoming Mr. Emotionless again.  

“…Alright.” He said and I waited patiently for the story to begin.

“For the past few months, the Ice Dragons were experiencing…trouble.”

“Don’t you always experience trouble?” I interrupted.

“Yes, of course, but not like this. Men were disappearing and dying at an alarming rate. Entire families were being wiped out all over the place, and we couldn’t figure out who was responsible.” He looked at me and glared. “They were efficient, fast, calculative, and manipulative. They were always one step ahead of us and even our connections couldn’t track them down.”

“So…what happened?”

“They eventually made themselves present. Turns out it was an American organization called the White Dragons.”

“The White Dragons? That sounds a lot like…”

“The Ice Dragons? Yes, we were quite aware.” He grumbled then sighed. “They were only located in the west and they’re relatively small, but that didn’t stop them from picking a fight with us. Apparently, the names were too similar for their liking, so one of us had to change it…and they made it abundantly clear who it should be.”

“That’s…so stupid.” I said, taken aback that all the violence started by a single name.

“They were also looking to expand their territory far east, but we already had men in the areas they wanted. Areas that benefited them the most. When we refused to give it to them they took it by force.”

“So…they were grumpy over a name and some land?” I swear I’ll never understand mafia stuff.

“I wish…” He mumbled. “In an act of what was assumed to be some form of rebellion, one of my men assassinated the son of the White Dragons president. His only son. It sparked an all out war. One where no one was safe…not even you.” He looked at me sadly and I gulped, feeling funny in the pit of my stomach. One of his men killed the president’s son? No wonder they were out for blood. “Since I don’t have any children of my own, if they wanted revenge they’d turn to you.”

“…but that’s crazy…right?” I knew it wasn’t crazy. I’d been kidnapped before, I’ve been hurt before, it was totally possible. My mind, however, never wanted to believe it. It always wanted to picture a good little world filled with sunshine and rainbows. Honestly, after spending this much time with the guys, I’m surprised I’m this optimistic.

“No, it’s not…” he trailed off and lowered his eyes, remaining silent for a while.


“…a month or two ago I…received a letter from the White Dragons. Inside of it were multiple pictures of you. It appeared as though they’ve been stalking you for a while. Pictures of you working, you shopping, and even sleeping.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “One picture had the blood of presumably my men around your neck so it looked like…it appeared as though you had…” he trailed off and it looked like it physically hurt him to finish the sentence. I nodded my head in understanding, feeling somewhat…sympathetic.  

“I was beyond worried for your safety.” He said and looked at me. “If they did anything to you I…I would never be able to forgive myself. I knew I had to stop this feud before anyone else got hurt.”

“So…what did you do?” I asked.

“Attempted to negotiate of course. Fortunately, some White Dragons favored peace as well since there was such a population difference between our two groups.”


“The President and I eventually sat down to discuss the problems of each group as well as the threats and the dangers we each possessed to one another.”

Okay, wow. That went in one ear and out the other. I should really be more concerned on this issue since my own freaking life is in danger…or was?

“Yeah, yeah, so after all that, did you come to a conclusion?” I asked.

“We…did…” he admitted then stayed silent, glaring at something to the right. I waited for him to add on and when he didn’t I cleared my throat.


“It was not supposed to be like this…I…I swear. All I wanted to do was keep you safe…but instead I gave you unimaginable pain, I…” his voice cracked and he turned away from me. Something in my heart cried out in pain and I held my chest.

I…I hate seeing him in pain.

“Soryu.” I said again, trying to be firmer. I saw him straighten his back but he still didn’t turn around.

“He wanted to combine our groups. Figured out that it’d be ideal and beneficial for both parties. Of course…there were  few…conditions.”

I did not like the way his voice sounded when he said that word…’conditions’, it sounded like he was scared of it. My…no, The fearless Soryu…afraid.

“After the death of his son…he only had one child left.”

“Lemme guess…Koibitio?” I asked, starting to piece everything together. He gave a little grunt and I assumed that it meant yes.

“Okay, okay, so…let me get this straight…” I said, walking to the left, rubbing my temples with my eyes closed. It was quite a lot to process. “So this rival American group…the White Dragons…have been a humongous threat to not only you and your group, but to me too? A-and the only way they’d stop hurting your guys was to bang his daughter?” I questioned and stared at his back.

“No…not…not that, marry her.” He grunted.

“M-marry…?” I felt like he kicked me in the stomach.  “You…you were planning on marrying a girl you didn’t even know before actually talking to me about marriage?” I asked, watching as my eyes filled with water for the umpteenth time today.  “Soryu…h-how…why? Why Soryu, why? Why would you do this to me?!”

“Please…please stop…crying…” he whispered. One arm supported his weight on the wall while the other held his face.

“Why…did you do it? W-why didn’t you tell me what was going on? All those months you just let me suffer! Why didn’t I hear about these White Dragon people until now? Why do you always hide stuff from me? Why did you allow yourself to become this kind of man? This isn’t you! Y-you’re kind and sweet a-and you love omelets. You get annoyed when Inui and Samejima fight but you love them like family! E-eisuke is your b…best friend! Ever since you were little! You’re brave and you’re strong. You…you were my hero Soryu…” I sobbed. “You…you were…mine…” my heart is on fire and my eyes won’t stop. I look up at him, and try to wipe away the liquid pain seeping from my eyes. His form is shaking and he’s trying to stay quiet. But he can’t…he just can’t.

“Soryu…” I said as a single tear rolled down my cheek. “Why?”    

Roll credits! Aw, nice ending right? 

Kidding, of course it’s not over yet. This is my Valentine’s gift to you. Happy Valentines Day. 
Oh gosh, I forgot who to tag, please forgive me if I mess up…        @donnaintx, @teacupdreams, @dayspringsylph, @random-writen-words, @hifftn, @lone-wolf155, @sketchbidders    I swear I feel like I’m missing two people…

Defenestrate Yourself (Lin x Reader)

Summary: Political rant??

TW: Politics, swearing


You sigh. Today was the day that Donald Trump would become the president of the United States. You were not nearly as lucky as your husband and had to work with Americans who voted for him.

You walk down the halls of your office, holding your binders as close to you as you can. You ignore your boss in a “Make America Great Again” hat, and you bite your tongue as one of your co-workers says that he doesn’t understand why people are protesting.

You set your binder down and immediately open your laptop, pulling on headphones as soon as you can. You start transferring numbers from the paper into the computer, ignoring anyone who tries to talk to you.

You finish almost all your work by lunch.

“Hey, (Y/N), we’re watching the inauguration in the break room, if you want to join us.”

You smile sweetly at the woman who poked her head into the room. “I’d love to, but I was planning on calling my husband.”

She returns the smile and walks away.

You groan and FaceTime Lin, who picks up immediately. “Hey, baby!” He smiles enthusiastically.

You giggle at his happy face on the screen. “I wish I had your enthusiasm.”

He laughs. “How are you?”

You sigh. “That asshat is becoming president today.”

His face falls. “Oh. Right.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Yeah. At least you don’t have to be here for it.”

He sighs. “I wish you were here.”

You shrug. “I know.”

“Let’s talk about literally anything else. I can’t stand to think about him.”

You laugh. “How’s filming going?”

His eyes light up while he tells you about every detail. “I can’t wait for you to see it.”

You smile sweetly. “I still have vacation days from last year. I’d love to visit you.”

He jumps up. “Oh! That’d be amazing!”

You giggle. “So, you’d be okay with that?”

“Of course! That’d make my life great again.”

You glare at him. “Defenestrate yourself.”

Sugar Daddies and where to find them

Chapter 7
Heart attack

One of the things Newt likes about Percival is that he always gets himself some time to help him with his creatures. He spends the afternoons in the case, feeding them and keeping Newt company while he takes care of the rest.

He has no idea how, but the Niffler has grown fond of him and even Pickett is not as grumpy as he always is when he has to share Newt with another human.

And Percival actually listens to him; he learns about magical creatures and the best way to take care of them. He also has started to convince Picquery to change (little by little) the laws in America in order to protect them.

That’s when Newt gives him the first kiss. He’s so happy to hear Percival’s ideas about teaching the auror how to handle a situation in which a creature is involved, that he throws himself at him and gives him a quick peck on the lips.

For a second, Percival is so surprised he freezes, but as soon as he recovers from it, he walks towards Newt and cups his face in his hands.

“May I?” He breathes. Newt can see his dark eyes open wide, his look focused​ on him with such an intensity that makes him shiver in the spot.

“Yes,” Newt decides after a few seconds. He knows his face is completely red, he knows he shouldn’t be nervous about not having much experience in that kind of things, but he is anyway, still, he wants to try.

Percival’s kiss is very different from his, the Director moves like a predator and his eyes are full of mischief and his heart responds with a jump inside his chest even before their lips touch.

It’s different, but Newt finds himself liking it. Percival kisses like he’s desperate, like Newt’s lips are the answer to a question he’s been asking his whole life.

It’s overwhelming, but addictive at the same time.

The Director’s hands are on his waist, his grip tightens and suddenly Newt is being pulled close to the other’s body. He gasps when he feels teeth trapping his lower lip gently and as soon as his mouth is open Percival’s tongue starts​ its exploration. Newt moans and tries to follow the pace of the kiss, giving as much as he gets.

This time is Percival the one that shivers.

And then he stops because he needs air and because he’s not as distracted as he was before and his rational thoughts are coming back to him. Newt realizes he has never kissed someone with so much passion and the desire as he kissed Percival.

He groans, embarrassed, and buries his face in the curve of the auror’s neck.

Percival chuckles.

“What is it, mon coeur?”

Newt groans again. It’s gonna take him a while to get used to such intense, undivided attention.


Now that he’s aware of Percival’s feelings towards him, Newt notices he seems unable to keep his hands to himself; he likes putting his hand on the magizoologist's​ back as they walk side by side, he smiles before kissing Newt’s cheek and it doesn’t matter if they’re not the only ones in the room, if they’re in the middle of a meeting or if Picquery is rolling her eyes at them.

That’s how everyone finds out they’re dating, although Queenie told him once they already knew the Director was ‘head over heals’ because it was obvious for the whole department.

Newt also realizes how much Percival loves to buy him things and how 'dangerous’ is for him to mention, even briefly, that he likes something.

He finds out when they’re on the streets, looking for a wizard, known to be one of Grindelwald’s followers, and Newt spots something after the corner of his eye. The shop is closed, but the objects on sale are on display and Newt sees the golden necklace with the tiny dragon in the middle.

He grabs Tina’s coat, she’s the one next to him, and mentions how accurate the dragon is crafted and that is obviously a Ironbelly. She smiles at him, but shushes him almost immediately and tells him to focus.

The next thing he knows is that Percival approaches and takes his hand.

“Stay close to me,” he mutters and Newt nods.

And that’s the end of it, he forgets about the necklace. At least until the very next day that Percival Graves arrives MACUSA with a present for him and Newt gasps when he opens the box to see the very same necklace he liked.

He’s ready to tell Percival, as many times before, he doesn’t need to buy him anything, but the Director looks so pleased with himself that Newt bites his response and allows him to put him on the necklace.

Of course Percival takes advantage of the moment and hugs Newt from behind and kisses his neck.

Newt looks at the tiny Ironbelly in his hand and smiles despite of himself. Although, he’s still not used to the expensive gifts.


Theseus Scamander arrives days later; it’s a complete surprise for Newt when he sees him especially because he’s in Picquery’s office. Tina had told him the President wanted to see him and for a second Newt panicked thinking it was about one of his creatures.

It’s not, but Picquery doesn’t seem very pleased.

“Mr. Scamander, could you please remove your brother from my office? It’s very early in the morning and I do not wish to deal with personal matters right now.”

“Yes, of course, Madam President!”

“Come here, little brother! I’ve missed you!” If Theseus is annoyed it doesn’t seem like it, at least not at the moment; he grins as soon as his eyes lay on Newt and takes him in his arms.

“What are you doing here, 'Seus? I thought you were busy.”

“I am, but I always find time to visit my favourite brother!”

“I am your only brother,” Newt points out, unable to hide the grin on his face.

“And that’s why you are the favourite,” Theseus says and pulls him close. “I’ve decided I’m gonna spend a few weeks here in New York with you, what do you think?”

Before Newt can respond, Picquery sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose and pours some liquid in a cup that doesn’t look like coffee or tea.

“I'm​ glad you decided to come,” he says.

Picquery drinks​ the content of her cup in one go.


“So… Newt. I… heard some disturbing news from Clarice. But you know how she is so I thought she got to joking or something, because it seemed so… unbelievable when she said it. I came here not only to take care of you, but to make sure it wasn’t… real. Because it’s not, right?”

“I think I don’t follow, 'Seus. Are you talking about the Grindelwald problem?”

Theseus shakes his head, impatient.

“No, I meant- Wait, what’s this?” Frowning at Newt’s necklace, Theseus asks.

“It’s an Ironbelly! Beautiful, isn’t it?” He practically beams, taking the figure in his fingers.

“Well… yes, but it seems a little- I didn’t think they payed you that much for being a consultant.”

Oh, right. Theseus doesn’t know about Percival, because Newt hasn’t told him yet. Feeling a little flustered, he looks down and bites his lip.

“I didn’t buy it, it was a gift.”

“A gift, huh? Who gave it to you?”


Theseus leans in, lips pressed together.

“Percival as in Percival Graves the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?”

“Yes.” After his brother’s response, Theseus’ eyes roam over Newt.

“Is that a new scarf? What about that pocket watch?” There’s something wrong, Theseus seems tense asking those questions.

“They’re all gifts from Percival.”

“He seems a very generous man,” the british auror says through clenched teeth.

Newt grins from ear to ear, perhaps his brother won’t react too bad if he tells him, after all he just complimented Percival.

“He is! He also helped me with Clara!” And Newt tells his brother the story; Theseus is indeed very focused, he doesn’t notice he’s grabbing his cup of tea a little too hard.

“Such a nice man.”

Glad that Theseus thinks highly of Percival, Newt decides it’s the perfect moment to talk about his relationship with the Director.

“'Seus, I think you should know, Percival and I are-”

“In a relationship,” the Director finishes the sentence for him, while he stands next to Newt. He bends to kiss the ginger’s cheek and offers hand to Theseus. “Percival Graves.”

“Are you okay, 'Seus? You look like you’re about to get sick,” Newt worries, stating at his brother’s frown.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles and only then takes the Director’s hand. They both shake hands, but the grip might be a bit strong, or at least that’s the impression he gets from watching them.

“Theseus Scamander, Newt’s older brother and also his guardian,” he emphasizes.

The younger Scamander rolls his eyes.

“I’m not a child anymore, 'Seus.”

Theseus rises from his seat to be at the same level as the other wizard. He ignores Newt completely.

“Mr. Graves, you say you’re in a relationship with my brother. May I ask what kind of relationship is this? What are your intentions towards my little, innocent brother?”

“I just want to make him happy.”

“By buying him pretty things?” Theseus snarls and now Newt’s is on his feet too. He wants to walk in between, but the table makes it impossible. “I know what you’re doing.”

“You do?” Percival’s eyebrow quirks up and he grins with all his teeth, but Newt knows it’s not a sincere smile, he knows this looks like when a predator shows his teeth to another. “Please, enlighten​ me.”

“My lovely Newt, I was looking for you!” Queenie’s melodic voice snaps them out of it and Newt has never been so glad to see her. “Tina and I were planning on inviting you to grab something to eat, but as I see you have company…”

Theseus opens his mouth, but Queenie cuts him off before he can even speak.

“You must be Newt’s brother! I’m Queenie Goldstein and this is my sister Tina.” Theseus shakes their hands. “I have an idea! Why don’t we all go to eat something? Yes? Oh, it’ll be lovely, don’t worry…”

Newt's​ not so sure anymore, but at least Percival and Theseus are more relaxed now. He hopes things stay that way.

I miss Carrie Fisher.

I was one of those who interacted with her on Twitter.

I didn’t call her my momby, my friends did though, (do still) and I can vouch for what a lovely extra mom she really was to them, genuinely, and with her real heart.  Her love for them was no show. If you see any extra mom in any TV show or even in everyday life and observe how they act to their extra kids, that was how Carrie acted towards my friends. Little notes,  likes, even on things she wasn’t tagged in. She was their momby and will be forever.

For me, she was an example of how to live with disability. Our disabilities were different, hers psychological, mine physical. But we shared having service dogs and I loved how her visibility with her service dog Gary, made people more aware of service dogs. 

One of the personal memories I’ll never forget though, was when I tweeted her that I was afraid of being a disabled person in this country if our current president was elected. She liked the tweet and then liked my thank you to her for hearing me. It was small, but I felt grateful to her for acknowledging my fear. I felt better knowing she was there.

She also tended to like tweets I sent her about she and Harrison Ford, (she loved everyone’s positive tweets about them together really) and I know this is controversial, but she and Harrison were an example to me in terms of romance and disability and I wish they’d gotten a happy ending.

That she slipped again doesn’t change my love for her or the example she is/was to me. I love her for who she was, all of who she was, even her struggles,

I only wish she was still here. 

And that I’d been fearless enough to call her “Momby,” even just once, myself.

Dear little black girl

Dear little black girl,

You’re beautiful. Your skin is like the clay of the promised land. A place of refuge, of solace. Your hair tells the story of your ancestors. The ones who made it possible for you to have peace of mind. Every curl and every coil sings a song of liberation. A song of resilience. Don’t ever be ashamed to let the wind flow freely through your hair. Your curls and God’s breath intertwine creating harmonious melodies that ring from the mountain tops. This, my dear, is your crown. A crown of insight. A crown of identity. A crown of depth and character. Your crown was handcrafted by God only for you. Every gem, every jewel, and every strand. It’s yours. You see those lines in the palms of your hands? Their treasure maps. They hold the hidden path to your innermost being. Everything you create is a direct translation of that thing on the inside. That thing that makes you come alive. Your passions. Your desires. Put your hand on your chest. You feel that? That’s your heart. Pay attention to the rhythm it makes. That’s the melody of your heart’s song. The more it beats, the louder it sings. Baby girl, let your heart sing..LOUD! Sing until your heart’s content. One day that song will turn into a whistle. And that whistle will turn into a soft hum. Eventually that soft hum will turn into a subtle murmur. So, sing! Sing! Please… SING! Your big brown eyes reflect things to come. They’re the gateway to your future. Maybe you’ll be a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a movie star. Maybe you’ll cure cancer and end world hunger. You could be the President. An Empress. A Queen or a Warrior Princess. Your eyes hold the answers, my dear. I was once told to laugh as much as I breathe. I wish I would have taken heed to those directions when they were given. In this life you’ll go through some things that threaten your smile.. Things that try and hold your laugh captive. Don’t let it! Nobody deserves to take your smile and lock it in a cold and lonely box somewhere in a dark room. The world is a lot brighter with your smile. A smile that melts cold hearts and laugh that latches onto those around you. Your smile is like a warm embrace in this cruel and ugly world. Smile. Smile and flourish. Smile, flourish and live. Live on purpose! There’s only one you! One beautiful you. Climb every mountain. Cross every bridge. Sing every lyric. Paint every picture. Kick every ball. Write every book and tell every story. And when they look at you and ask ‘how’; tell them you have super powers. It’s called Black Girl Magic.

Good luck princess. 👑


Your head flew to the side, a bit of blood dripping out the corner of your mouth as the Irishman brought his fist back down back his side. Your head was throbbing from the numerous punches you had taken. You stopped counting after 7 but you were sure they were way passed that by now. Your right eye was already swollen to the point where you couldn’t see out of it, you were sure you had a gash on your cheek from their rings and your lip was busted to the point of slurring your speech. You were a tough girl, you had made it into the Sons, but you had to admit that things weren’t looking good for you and you had gotten your ass beat.

You’d already been wherever you were for days and your captors hadn’t been the best hosts. They’d only given you food twice in 4 days and when they did feed you, it was just bottled water and a stale bologna sandwich that you could barely eat anyways because of your split lip. You had faith in your club but you were going on 5 days and you were still stuck in this warehouse. The men never spoke in front of you and sometimes they spoke in what you assumed might’ve been Gaelic so you were completely clueless to everything.

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head back and silently talked to Juice and your brother, wishing them to hurry up and figure this shit out so you could get out of here.
At the Clubhouse, all the guys were sitting in their seats around the Reaper table having Church. “It’s been 4 days Jax! They’re going to fucking kill her if we don’t do something!” Juice’s patience was wearing thin with all these debates and discussions about what they should do. He knew they had to be careful when dealing with the Irish but you were his Old Lady and he thought that Jax would be a little more active when he found out they had his baby sister. “You think I don’t know that Juice? She’s my sister and I want her back as much as you do but she’s still a member of this club, which means this still falls into club business. We can’t get all emotional and jump head first into this without having a plan.”

Times like this were when Jax wished he never had the gavel. As just a son or even V.P. he would’ve gone with his instincts and gone with Juice the first day to get you back, guns blazing. But he wasn’t just a Son. Clay was dead and he was the President now. He knew a lot more now than he knew then and he knew they had to go about this the right way.

Jax put his hands together in a praying fashion and leaned his head against them,closing his eyes, trying to keep a level head. The Chapel was silent as he thought. Finally he lifted his head and looked to his Brothers. “Let’s get all our weapons together. Hap,” Happy nodded to him, already agreeing to whatever Jax was going to say. “Get Tacoma down here.”
At this point all you wanted was a warm meal and a bath. Your stomach was growling almost continuously and every part of you was sore from being tied to this chair for hours on end, even sleeping in it. They only let you up to use the bathroom and then put you right back. You could feel the dried blood on your face making your skin tight, pieces of your hair stuck to your face. You didn’t need a mirror to know you looked rough. You closed your eyes, deciding to try and get some sleep.

You had started nodding off when you heard gunshots and yelling in the distance. You lifted your head up and felt your heart rate start to increase. More shots followed by more yelling continued but they didn’t sound like they were getting any closer. Suddenly, the metal door swung open and Jax ran in and coming straight to you, immediately bending down and beginning to work on untying the bindings on your feet. “About damn time.” He laughed a little and stood up straight to untie your hands. Looking to your face, he stopped. It was dark in the room but he could still see you were beat to hell. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart for leaving you like this for days.

Finally untying your hands, he pulled away and you stood up, only for your legs to give out. He caught you before you hit the ground and held you up. “Shit.” Being mindful of your injuries, he picked you up gently and held you in his arms bridal style. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head against his shoulder as he walked towards the door. “It’s ok sis. I got you.” you nodded and closed your eyes, grateful that this was finally over.

Am I upset? Oh boy you bet I am. I’m upset because I live in a world where everyone’s told they’re a snowflake. Everyone’s told they’re special and different and one of a kind. I’m upset because I live in a world where I’m lied to, you know? When I was younger I thought I was special, I thought I was going to change the world. I thought I was better than average. I’m not. I’m a special snowflake all right, but I’m a special snowflake that’s lost in a drift with a million other snowflakes who are as, if not more, special than I am.
You know what makes it worse? Nobody will tell me that. Whenever I say I’m not going to make a difference or that I’m not special, a soccer mom comes running in screaming that I am. If the participation medal I got when I was seven or the paper honor roll certificate I got in eighth grade is what makes me special, boy do I have a reason to be upset. That’s not special. Maybe compared to someone else it is, but they’ve probably got something special of their own that suburban moms are gushing over.
I’m upset that kids are told they’re special. You’re not born special. You played on a sports team? Well good for you kid, that doesn’t mean you’re the next Babe Ruth. You won a debate round? Great, let me know when you become president. It’s harsh I know, but maybe if we stopped telling kids they were amazing, talent, wonderful flowers from God’s own garden, they’d stop believing it their entire lives. Maybe they’d get their heads out of the clouds and work towards being something special.  
You know what believing I was special got me? A whole lot of anxiety and an inferiority complex, that’s what it got me. Because my mom told me I was special my entire life, I believed her. So when I saw some kid do better than me, I thought, gee I wish I was that good. Instead, I was constantly living short of my so-called potential. Maybe if I was raised to think, you’re okay, but you’re never going to be better than average if you don’t try and work for it, I might actually have worked for something and not assumed it would be handed to me because I was a special perfect snowflake that was gracing everyone’s life by simply drifting through.
So yah, I’m a little upset. Worst of all, my parents’ generation and their parents’ generation sit around complaining that people my age are entitled, prissy, lazy, narcissistic, broke, stressed for absolutely no reason, underachieving punks with no work ethic. Well guess who raised us to be entitled, prissy, lazy, narcissistic, broke, stressed for absolutely no reason, underachieving punks with no work ethic? I can promise you it wasn’t the special little snowflakes and God’s personally grown flowers that feel like they don’t live up to their parents expectations because they were raised in a world where they have a little special something that other kids don’t have and yet if anyone else asked, they’re all equal because you don’t want a kid to feel bad about themselves. Don’t let other kids know that they might be less by giving them participation trophy when they suck. Don’t let other kids know that they might not make it far in life by giving them a bogus award that doesn’t mean anything so that they don’t feel bad that some kid got a four point oh by studying non-stop while they sat around and did nothing and scraped by with a two point.  
OF COURSE I’M UPSET. Even now, I have some much stress and anxiety in my life I can barely keep my sanity for a semester. I cry when break comes because it’s over, but I know it’s going to start again in a month. I was raised with a sense of entitlement that lead me to think everyone wants to give the special snowflake everything I wanted. So now that scholarships are harder to get and there’s fewer jobs and everything costs more and there’s downright awful social conditions for me to live in, don’t think for one second that I wouldn’t be upset.
I’m upset because I’m working so hard to be special and make a difference, but so is everyone else. Maybe if someone didn’t destroy everything for us before we got there and then say that it was our fault that the world was going to hell because we’re a bunch of entitled, prissy, lazy, narcissistic, broke, stressed for absolutely no reason, underachieving punks with no work ethic, we’d stand a chance. Maybe if we didn’t think we were special snowflakes in a world where we’re nothing but average, we’d try and be something more instead of falling short to outrageous expectations. If we were raised to believe we were average, we’d set our goals to be above that.
I’m upset because kids are raised to believe that they are above average. You know where goals are set when you think your above average? They’re set at perfect. I’m upset because an average kid can’t ever reach perfect, yet they were raised to believe that that is the only place they can go. So, yes, I’m upset.
—  KJS // Excerpt from the book I’ll never write #15
The Great Campaign

As should probably be unsurprising, I’ve never liked school that much. So, in high school, whenever a school-sanctioned opportunity arose, I’d leave the Concentration Campus.

One day, a teacher came to my class during a free period and said that he needed members of the student council for something. At this time, my friend Alex and I were on the council. Both of our positions were completely pointless. I mean, it was worse than the Russian Duma between 1905 and 1917, and that much pointlessness takes skill. Let me briefly digress to explain how we got them:

One day, the faculty decided it would be nice if there were a Student Council so they could get points for Representing The People. To this end, they selected two students from the fifth form (final year) as the candidates for President of the Student Council and announced in the assembly (kind of like homeroom) at the beginning of the day that everyone would be expected to vote for one of them.

During the day they went to each class to collect votes for the Student Council President while also asking each class to nominate and vote for a Class President. When they reached my class, they asked for someone to volunteer to run for CP. I put up my hand but no one else did. The teacher shrugged and said “Alison is your new Class President. See ya later.”

After all the votes came in and were considered by the staff, they declared the winner of the Student Council’s Presidential election to be… My friend Alex in form 3 who was never on the ballot. Because logic.

Anyway, I was pretty surprised they actually wanted us for something. It was almost as if we were important! So, Alex and I followed the teacher to the staff-room where we were briefed on the Super Special Mission of Specialness. Basically, we needed to send a few representatives to a conference the Ministry of Education was holding where they were going to lecture us on Leadership and Responsibility and Dying For Your Führer or some shit. So, slightly less boring than normal school. I was in.

That is, until a girl we thought was sick turned out to be not-sick and actually in school. She was the Secretary and the other people present were the Treasurer, the School President, and a Class President. At this point the teacher decided to mention that he was only allowed to bring three people: the President, Treasurer, and Secretary; with alternates only being accepted when the others were unavailable. Crap.

So, I turned to him, steadied myself, and cranked the charm up to eleven. I made some argument about being a full member of the council too and needing to learn about The Glorious Führer or something like that. I don’t recall because I was too busy thinking don’t send me back don’t send me back please don’t send me back while radiating deadly amounts of Charisma. Evidently, the C-Rays must have fried his brain because he finally relented and let me come with them.

[Comedic travel montage in which we manage to get lost in a town of 6000 people while looking for a well-known landmark, but I forget the details.]

When we arrived at the place, I noticed the Fatal Flaw to my plan. Since we were late due to errors of shipping & handling, everyone else was already there. In my country, all the secondary schools have uniforms, so I could see that everyone was in clusters of three students per school. We very obviously had four. I didn’t know who or where or why or how but someone was going to ask Questions and then I was going to Die.

Luckily, due to some combination of bystander apathy and me rolling into an exceptionally uninteresting ball, the wolves passed without harming me. I was able to sit there and listen to the speech about the Führer…

…Wait, you thought I was kidding, didn’t you? No, no. I never kid. This is what the lecturer said:

“So, how many of you would describe Adolf Hitler as a good leader?” He looked over the crowd and decided to pick on the most uninteresting ball he could find.

“You, at the back!” He called, pointing at me.

“Uh,” I began eloquently. “I would say that the question has multiple interpretations with different answers. He was certainly good at leading, but if the job of a leader is to steer you in the right direction, then no, he wasn’t.”

“Brilliantly stated!” He lied. “Well done! What about the boy next to you with his hand up?”

I turned to look at Alex, who proudly declared “I think Hitler was a great leader! Sure, Germany may have had its ups and downs, but Hitler did nothing wrong! In fact, he should have done more!” Alex turned and looked me in the eye. “If Hitler had been more successful, I might have fewer classmates today. Y’know what they say about small class sizes, right?”

I couldn’t take it. I laughed first, losing the game to him.

The lecturer on the stage before us was watching Alex with an expression that my (occasionally buggy) Facial Expression Recognition Software (GPLv3) flagged as a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and indigestion. I wondered what he’d eaten.

“So, uh, that’s, ah, one way of looking at it.” He said, sounding like he’d just seen a perfectly ordinary witch transform into a cat.

He then went on to explain why Hitler was a bad leader because being a good leader requires following Jesus and leading behind his leadership; which definitely doesn’t include doing bad things to Jews, but maybe to Muslims on alternating Tuesdays. I wasn’t really paying close attention.

However, he soon started describing an election – and this I did pay attention to. He told us that the Ministry of Education had decided that there was going to be a National Student Council to represent all the students in the country. Hooray! I thought. Another Duma!

He told us there would be such New and Exciting positions as President, Vice President, Secretary, Treasurer, Executioner, Head of The Inquisition, and Ass Kisser++ With Extra Lipstick. OK, I may not have been paying very close attention here either. In my defence, the conversation with Alex was far more interesting.

“You should run for Treasurer!” Alex told me excitedly.

“Did you completely forget the part about me being smuggled goods?” I asked incredulously. “I’m lucky they haven’t tossed me in the harbour yet!”

“Details.” Alex said, waving the problem away. “Come on! No one could be more qualified!”

“I suck at accounts.” I understated.

“That isn’t what makes you a good treasurer. This,” he pointed to my nose, “is what makes you a good treasurer.”

“You can’t literally sniff out corruption,” I informed him. “You do know that, right?”

“No, you idiot!” He shook his head. “You’re a Jew! You have powers mere mortals have only dreamed of!”

“Pass.” I replied. “I like not being in the harbour.”

“Come on!” He complained. “You can’t pass up your destiny! You were born to guard a massive pile of gold and roar at the foolish adventurers who come to slay you.”

“Firstly,” I began patiently. “I think you may have confused Jews and dragons. Secondly, even if being Jewish were a sane reason for taking a job, there’s no reason I couldn’t be the President or the Secretary.”

“Your handwriting is shit, and Jews can’t be president.” Alex informed me, sounding like he’d settled the matter.

“What?” I asked. “That’s not true! Look at Benjamin Disraeli.”

“Prime Ministers aren’t Presidents!” Alex announced gleefully. “You lose a turn!”

He turned back to the stage, satisfied with his victory.

The lecturer was now instructing all those who wished to run for a position to put up their hand so he could call on them to introduce themselves and announce which position they were running for. I decided to throw caution to the wind and put up my hand. They hadn’t found me yet and if I was going out, then I was going out in style. I’d decided that running for President wouldn’t be a good idea since that’d be the position with the greatest competition and, as anyone with hereditary business savvy knows, the best way to succeed is to use politics to avoid competition. Likewise, I wouldn’t run for Vice President because I didn’t want to have to assassinate the other guy. I’d promised my mother not to be that evil before my eighteenth birthday.

The lecturer was apparently calling on people in a systematic order. I was somewhat surprised to see this much organisation from someone who worked for the government and wondered how long it would take him to get fired. When he finally reached my side of the amphitheatre, his face changed from disinterest to trepidation. He pointed to Alex the way a sentry might point to the barbarians approaching the city walls as they chanted “doom doom doom, doom doom-doom doom doom-doom…

Alex stood, introduced himself, and announced his candidacy for president. He flashed the room a dazzling smile which, statistically speaking, must have made at least three girls faint. Impressive, I thought. A dumb choice of position; but still impressive. It is a common misconception that presidents are the most important people in an organisation. Not so. The most important person is the one holding the president’s balls – which happen to be permanent residents of the organisational purse.

Next it was me. I too introduced myself, and announced that I’d be running for treasurer. I decided not to attempt the smile since it was clearly an Advanced Technique and Alex was still the acknowledged master in the Art of Charisma. I decided to bide my time…

…For 3 seconds. The moment I sat, Alex turned to me and said, “Good job! I’ll vote for you.” I then turned to the person on the other side of me and offered my outstretched hand. “Vote for me.” I said with a smile that was slightly less catastrophic-systems-failure-inducing than Alex’s, but still quite potent at close range. Clearly my attack roll was a Critical because the guy shook my hand and said “Of course, dude.” Success! Oh, the poor bastard.

I repeated the routine with all the people near me. I only rolled a one once. That time, my target looked at me with a little scepticism and asked “why should I?”

Shit. I’d forgotten that, once in a while, someone votes for a politician for a reason instead of just failing a Will save. I wracked my brain, immediately rejecting Alex’s justification of Jews and dragons.

“I’m studying accounting,” the idiot that was in control of my vocal cords said. All systems were flashing ‘abort mission!’ and ‘you stupid piece of…’ and similarly justified alerts. I cranked my pokerface up to the max and waited for him to inevitably ask me what my grades were in accounting.

Then, a miracle I dared not hope for: a twenty.

“OK,” He said, fooled into accepting my stupendous bluff. “What’s 73 times 9?”

“657,” I answered, almost automatically. The boy nodded, apparently satisfied.

“You’ve got my vote,” he said. All systems were now flashing ‘hooray!’ and ‘you’re still a stupid piece of…’

By this time it was lunch, so we retired to the courtyard after giving the lecturer our names so he could make ballots. I made sure to work the crowd, pulling my handshake routine on each of them. This time I had to turn the charisma past eleven. I set it to ALL, making sure to have each of them feel special and loved – like they mattered – before moving on to the next one and leaving them with the metaphorical baby. I never stuck around to find out how the guys handled their metaphorical pregnancies, but I heard from second-hand sources that it wasn’t pretty.

Unfortunately, a few wanted to be married before they’d agree. This is a deep and complex political concept which can only properly be encapsulated by, “I’ll vote for you if you vote for me.” Most of them literally said that.

Of course, I couldn’t simply say “sure”! I was an individual of class, dignity, refinement, and racist humour. As such, I questioned them. I asked them what they’d do if they were president and smiled at them when they answered; as if they’d told me just what I needed to hear. I asked them about world politics, and congratulated them on their shrewdness when they located Australia in Europe. I asked them what they thought of a quote by a famous person, and praised their intelligence when they told me it was, like, soooo deep. In the end, I assured them that they, without a doubt, were the most qualified person for the job. They had my vote.

I told sixteen people this. I have never claimed to be a good person.

Eventually, I was finished and went to get my lunch. I brought it over to the table Alex had already commandeered. There were also two girls from schools I didn’t recognise sitting at this table on the opposite side from Alex. I sat next to my friend and began telling him of my exploits without any details of how exploitative it was. After all, there were potential voters right there. Alex, on the other hand, informed me that he was doing no campaigning, and that I shouldn’t vote for him because he’d just been joking.

After I’d finished describing the way I’d secured promises from everyone – including the two girls sitting across from us before they’d arrived here – one of the girls turned to me and commented on how successful I seemed to be. We stared into each other’s eyes for what I realise, in retrospect, was longer than Standard Eye-Contact Time. I didn’t know because I’ve never read the manual. We engaged in some witty banter which I no longer recall. What I do know now, though only in retrospect, was that this was me flirting – for the first time. I was not set on fire even once throughout the whole experience, so I count it as an unqualified success.

After lunch, we all returned to the amphitheatre for the actual voting process. The lecturer handed each of us seven printed ballots – one for each available position – with a list of all the candidates for that position, with check-boxes next to their names. Very well done. This guy’s days were numbered.

After we’d all filled out our ballots, another ministry official went around and collected them in a box. She then brought it back to the lecturer so the votes could be tallied and entered into a laptop. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, he began to speak.

“And the President of the National Student Council is,” he said, and a name was displayed on the wall behind him with the number of votes received next to it. Below that name were the names of the runners-up with their vote numbers. Alex had gotten three votes – most likely the fainters. The person who had been selected walked down the steps and approached the stage. There were a few scattered claps. The lecturer repeated the process for every position, with each winner getting a plurality of the votes and a couple claps here and there. Treasurer was the last.

“And the Treasurer of the National Student Council is…” Click. The scene on the wall changed and the name displayed at the top of the list was mine. Next to it: 54 out of 73 votes. The crowd went wild. The applause was loud and excited. I stood and swept a bow to one side, increasing the volume. I bowed to the other side and the roar became deafening. I proceeded to approach the stage. Halfway down, Alex started chanting “Alison! Alison! Alison!” The rest of the crowd adopted the cry as well. “Alison! Alison! Alison!”

When I finally arrived on stage I turned back to the audience, flashed a smile that undoubtedly caused four people to faint, and gave one last bow before sitting in a chair which had been provided. The lecturer had to order everyone to quiet down, calm down, and sit down. Of course, there was no ‘down’ for me. I was on top of the world.


Group: EXO
Member(s): Sehun
Type: Playboy Sehun!AU / Fuckboy Sehun!AU / Smut (requested)
Warnings: Begging / Wall Sex / Blowjob / Language

Ah there he was, Oh Sehun, the ultimate playboy of this elite high school that he managed to weasel into with his parent’s money. I hated him and for good reasons. He was what you might call a “player”. As far as I (or anyone else) knew, he had slept with nearly every girl at school and never slept with the same girl twice. He has never been in a serious relationship. He used his parent’s social status and their wealth to get anything he wanted. Yeah, anything. Expensive cars. Memberships to clubs. Good grades. Girls. His very being sickened me. And yet here I was, standing at my locker before my off period as he approached me for the first time since school had started in August.

“______?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, not looking up from the books I was trying to situate in my locker.


“I know who you are,” I cut him off.

“I figured you would,” he smirked.

I rolled my eyes at him, “Did you want something?”

“Yeah actually, you might be familiar with my reputation here. You see, I’ve had every girl in this school … except you. My friends bet me a lot of money if I could get you under me. And I don’t plan on losing any of my money.”

I glared at him as he talked. I wanted nothing more than to slap that smug grin off of his face, “Well it looks like you’re going to have to because I don’t plan on ‘getting under you’ ever.”

I closed my locker and turned to walk away but his hand grabbed my wrist and he shoved me against the locker, leaning against the locker next to me, locking down on me. I wished I were taller so that I wouldn’t feel so intimidated by his size, but I tried my best to hold my ground.

“Oh that’s right, you’re student council president right? So you’ve got a little ‘good school girl’ reputation to uphold? Well this may come as a shock to you sweetheart, but that reputation isn’t going to last long. So you might as well ruin it now, right?”

My breathing got deeper as I glared at him. Boy if looks could kill …

“Like I said, I’m not interested.”

I pulled my wrist out of his grasp but I was shoved back into the locker.

“Look, if you have sex with me I’ll be getting $300 from my friends. I’ll give you $75.”

I scoffed, “That’s only a quarter. I don’t think so. I want $200.”

“You must be crazy… Half and half?”

“ … Deal.”

He smirked, grabbing my wrist and quickly pulling me behind him down the hallway. Luckily most people were in class so my reputation was safe now that no one could see me with him.

“Where are you taking me?”

“There’s an empty classroom by the janitor’s closet.”

“Wait, we’re going to do this now?” I exclaimed, glancing in all directions to make sure no one was following us.

He stopped at the unmarked door and smirked at me as he opened it, “Why not?”

I rolled my eyes as I walked into the dimly lit room. Sehun shut the door behind us and had me shoved against it in seconds flat. I heard the lock click into place before Sehun’s fingers were expertly unbuttoning the buttons of my blouse. My hands rested at his nape, pulling his lips against mine in a heated kiss as my tongue fought for dominance over his. But he wasn’t so easily submissive. He fought back just as heatedly, his teeth nipping at my lips causing me to surrender with a moan. His hands pulled my bra down far enough for him to massage my breasts as he nipped and sucked at my neck, leaving his mark on me. His hand went down to my skirt, snaking up underneath the school uniform, pulling my underwear down to the ground. I stepped out of them as he rubbed his index finger up and down my folds. I was growing more and more wet for him by the second. Hey, just because I hated him didn’t mean I couldn’t find him attractive and sexy as hell.

I moaned as he plunged his index and middle finger into me, his thumb adding to the pleasure by rubbing against my clit. I moaned louder, my head resting against the door. Sehun’s free hand covered my mouth.

“Someone might catch us, we don’t want that now do we?”

I groaned in frustration as his fingers curled in, hitting my spots just the right way. I felt my core tightening and he wasn’t even in me yet. My hands went to his belt, unbuckling his belt buckle and ripping his zipper open. I pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees and Sehun pushed them down the rest of the way. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. His hands gripped the back of my thighs as he slid into me. I moaned so loud that I was actually afraid someone would hear me, but in the moment I didn’t care. All I wanted was relief, and if Sehun was the one to give it to me then so be it. His thrusts were quick and deep. It shocked me how turned on I was getting just by his hot breath hitting my neck. His low grunts in my ear sounded like beautiful music.

“Mhmmmm,” I groaned, biting my lip to keep anything louder from escaping me.

“That’s it, I want you to beg for me,” he growled in my ear.

“I don’t beg, I’m not a dog,” I snarled at him, tugging ruthlessly on his hair.

He chuckled, “You will for me.”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

With that being said, I quickly unwrapped my legs from his waist and put my feet on the ground. I removed him from me and shoved him against the door. His member was wet when I wrapped my hand around him, rubbing him as I got down on my knees.

“If anyone’s going to beg, it’ll be you,” I said, looking at him through my eyelashes.

“I don’t beg either,” he said sternly.

“You will for me,” I mocked him before I licked the slit at his tip.

He moaned out loud, his head falling back against the door. His eyes screwed shut as I took him into my mouth, pumping him as much as I could. His groans only got louder and louder and that’s when I knew when he was getting close. Right when I felt like he was going to release I took him out of my mouth.

“W-What are you doing?” he exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked innocently.


“What do you want me to do?”

“I … I want you to let me cum got dammit!”

“Beg,” I demanded.

He glared down at me but all I did was smirk back at him.

“Beg and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fine. Please, please let me cum. Put my dick back in your mouth and let me cum. Pleeeease~”

I licked his shaft before wrapping my lips back around it, pumping him a few more times. He finally released, his cum shooting inside my mouth and spilling out of the corner of my lips. I licked him clean before licking my lips.

“Don’t think I forgot about you,” he smirked.

He pushed me back against the door where I started, only this time my chest was being pushed against the wood of the door. His member slid back into me easily as we were both wet. He thrusted for a few minutes before I eventually came. I groaned his name under my breath.

“What was that?” he asked snidely.

“Oh shut up and fuck me,” I growled at him.

He chuckled and rode out my high, his thrusts slowing down after I was drained. His breath was heavy in my ear, his hands on my waist, holding up my skirt. My cheek was pressed against the cool wooden door. My hair was a mess and I had to fix my outfit. He took himself out of me, giving me a nice slap on the ass.

“Good work,” he said.

I playfully slapped his arm in return. There was a mirror on the opposite wall so I went to it, brushing down my hair with my fingers so it didn’t look obvious that I had just been fucking someone in a classroom. I quickly buttoned my blouse and smoothed out my skirt. When I deemed myself decent I grabbed a few tissues and cleaned myself up before checking myself once more in the mirror.

“Okay, I’m going to head to my next class. It’s on the other side of campus and I don’t want to be late,” Sehun spoke as he fixed his tie.

“What about my money?”

“You’ll get it,” he said, opening the door and stepping out.

“Hey! Where are my underwear?” I yelled at him.

He smirked, patting his pants pocket before closing the door. That cocky bastard.

The next morning I went to my locker and opened it, an envelope fell to the floor and I quickly grabbed it. It was addressed from Sehun. When I ripped it open there was $150 cash sitting inside with a note.

We should do this again sometime. Call me.

anonymous asked:

do u have a frerard reclist? or lyk, can u direct me to ur fav reclist or smth? thnxxx

i’ve been wanting to make an official page but omg i’m so lazy AND DISTRACTED BUT OMG OKAY


Keep reading

A few years ago, the young republicans at my alma mater invited Ann Coulter to speak and were planning on using university funds to pay her speaking fee. In 24 hours the rest of the student population mobilized in protest. The president of the school (a Jesuit and badass) wrote a public and strongly worded letter asking the young republicans to rescind her invitation and donate the money to a worthier cause. In the next 24 hours she was disinvited and Fox News came and did a segment on Ann Coulter being “censored” by elitist New York college students. It was hilarious.

Mr. President | Part 1 (Luke Smut)

Summary: Luke’s the president of the biggest frat around, and he also happens to be your brother’s high school best friend who you haven’t seen in years


Going to a frat party had never been something you had considered doing, but after the week of tests and papers you had had you needed some stress relief. And that’s how you found yourself dressed in an oversized t-shirt with knee high socks and slippers on your way to a sleepover themed frat party.

Walking up to the door you were surprised at how nice the house was, it was huge and made of brick with large windows. You had always expected frat’s to be dumpy houses on the verge of falling apart. Walking in it was clear that the party was confined to the basement, the music coming through the floor.

Making your way down with your friends, you found the bar immediately and downed three shots in a row before heading to the dance floor with a mixed drink in hand. You could feel the alcohol start to set in as your dancing got a little bit riskier, and as the room became a little more blurry.

Feeling a set of hands on your waist, you turned around to ward off the stranger, but rather than be met by a stranger you found yourself staring into the blue eyes of Luke Hemmings - the president of the frat, and none other than your brother’s best friend from high school. “How would Parker feel if he saw you dressed like this Y/N?” Luke said, his breath smelling of alcohol.

“Probably just how he would feel if he knew you were dancing up on his little sister.” You said, rolling your body against his in time with the music. Luke responded by spinning you around and pulling your ass against his crotch.

“It’s a good thing he isn’t here then isn’t it.” Luke mumbled against your neck, dropping kisses down it and across your shoulder where your shirt had fallen down. His lips were cold against your skin, and each time he moved to a new spot you had to hold your lips closed to avoid gasping out loud.

His hands had slid so that they were now pressed against your stomach, and you had laced your fingers through his to keep yourself steady as you ground back in to him, causing a growl to release from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N.”

Your body was pulsing with the adrenaline from the alcohol, and from the feeling of Luke against you, but you still wanted to be closer. So you flipped around and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face close to yours as you melded your hips together. “Luke, can we go somewhere a little more private?” You whispered, “Some of the things running through my mind right now, aren’t exactly appropriate for public.”

A smirk slid on to his face, and he quickly grabbed on to your hand, rushing up a few flights of stairs until he flung open a door to a gigantic bedroom. When he saw your eyes widen at the sight of his room he smirked, “Perks of being president I guess.”

Looking at him, his hair messed up from when you had ran your hands through it, his eyes bleary from drinking, and his ever so noticeable tent showing in his pants had you pressing your legs together, “Well, Mr. President, I’ve got something to show you so if you could take a seat on the bed we will get started in just a moment.”

Luke shivered at the possibility of what was coming next, taking a seat on his bed without ever taking his eyes from you. You left your slippers near the door, before following Luke to the bed and straddling his hips and realizing for the first time that night that he was shirtless.

“Mr. President, are these your pajamas?” You said, running your hands over Luke’s chest and down to where his pajama pants were tied around his waste. He gulped and nodded his head, “It’s awfully revealing for the president.” You said, before running your hand over the outline of his dick.

“Princess,” he gasped, “I think since you’re seeing so much of me it’s only fair if I see a little more of you.” His big hands slipped underneath your shirt, and helping him out you held your arms straight up as he lifted it over your head.

Upon seeing what was underneath he dramatically flopped back against the bed, “Princess are you trying to kill me?” You giggled, before leaning over him.

“What you don’t like my lacy,” You dropped a kiss next to his navel, “black,” you slid down his pajama pants, “lingerie,” you licked him over his boxers as he covered his face with his hands, his breathing getting more labored.

“Shit.” He mumbled out, as you continued to pleasure him through is boxers. His hips were starting to leave the bed as you slid your hands under the waistband of his boxers pulling them down until his member was completely exposed. 

Leaning forward you circled your tongue up and down him, before gripping on to his thighs tightly as you took his cock in your mouth, smirking as you heard him moan at how warm and wet your mouth was.

Pulling off of him after working him up until you could hear his labored breathing, you pouted your lips, “Mr. President, I would appreciate it if you could take your hands off your face, I want to see the look in your eyes as I suck you off.” Luke braced himself, tearing his hands off of his face nearly loosing it at the sight of you between his legs, with your lips swollen and wet.

“Much better.” You said, when he propped himself up on his elbows, so that you could look directly into his eyes as you lowered your mouth on to him once again. You relaxed your throat, taking a deep breath and just as you felt him hit the back of your throat there was a knock on the door.

You pulled back, seeing Luke’s face you had to keep yourself from laughing. He looked like he might cry, but snapped out of it when the knocking came again only this time louder and with shouts of Luke’s name.

“Shit, sorry princess this’ll only take a second.” He gently guided you off of him, and stood up taking a second to compose himself before just barely opening the door, “What?” Luke said, his voice tense.

The voice on the other side of the door was too quiet for you to hear, but the way Luke was reacting it clearly wasn’t good news. He sighed, “Fuck, fine just give me a few minutes and I’ll be down.” Luke shut the door, dropping his head as he leaned against it.

Getting off the bed you walked over to Luke, sliding in the space between him and the door. Looking up, he groaned when he saw your lip pulled between your teeth and the innocent look on your face when he knew you were anything but, “Damn it Princess, I wish I didn’t have to do this but presidential duty calls. I’ll be back soon, so just sit your pretty little ass on my bed and don’t move an inch, okay?”

You nodded, Luke’s gravely voice causing shivers to run down your spine, as you made your way back to his bed, making yourself comfortable before calling out to Luke just before he got out the door, “Hurry back Mr. President, or I might just start taking things in to my own hands.” Your hands tracing your own body, a smile growing on your face as you heard Luke whimper before shutting the door.

A/N: I’ve had this in my drafts for some time actually, and I thought I’d go ahead and finish it! Sorry I haven’t been writing much, but school got incredibly busy, but I’ll be back to writing as soon as finals are over! Let me know what you thought of this, and if you want a part 2 send me messages here :)

Part 2 up now!

battlingbugs  asked:

Ref GAAMBH, even though the recorded version is nice, and they did a great performance on the Voice and the BBMAs, my favorite performances have always been the live versions. I wish to hell there was full one from the WH State Dinner. There were MAJOR peeps going up front to video them (Shefani even owns the Major Playah's) , and you could see President Obama's foot moving in time.

I still can’t even wrap my head around that White House performance! What an amazing honor to perform for that event. 😍

– M