#tw: trump's fucking voice

[izzy-b-hands]

Challenged myself to listen to the full Trmp call to the Georgia secretary of state and

Jfc. An hour. This is an hour. Long. Call. He's not making sense, and just. Keeps repeating the same shit and no one is interrupting him at all like. I had listened to a clip prior last year but the full thing is. So much. He's such a fucking idiot seditious asshole.

I just checked the time stamp and that was 12 fucking straight minutes of rambling. It's important to be informed, and I really should have listened to this full thing ages ago but. Good fucking christ on a dildo bike this is terrifying and ridiculous all at once.

#text post #tw trump #and when others on the call do chime in they literally ELI5 it to him #and he just immediately gets mad and uses the loud stubborn old man voice and repeats the same shit again like #u dumb fuck just cuz u start yelling doesn't make it true!!! stop wasting these ppls fucking time

[miheartsedthings]

Billy request if you do em :)

52. “Can I kiss you?”

TA-DA! Hope you didn't think I forgot you or anything.

Summary: Post- graduation, Billy's found-family has been teaching him about consent. He hasn't fully grasped it.

"Can I Kiss You?"*

TW: Dubious consent

Billy and his friends approach you at the first party of the semester. Billy’s one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen in person, overshadowing anyone else you’ve met on campus and easily trumping everyone at the party. You don’t expect to look up from your drink and have his undivided attention. Yet there he is, sauntering over to you in a leather jacket with no shirt underneath. In his eyes is such a steady determination you find yourself unable to look away as he approaches.  

“Ask her first, B.” Steve urges him but Billy's eyes are cloudy with drink and intention. Nancy stands red-faced between him and Robin while Steve is shaking his head at the way Billy is invading your personal space. Whatever group mission they're on has already derailed and you're at the center of it.

“Damn,” he says, his eyes dragging up and down your form “Gorgeous, every time.” His proximity forces you against the wall. 

“Billy boy,” Robin calls with a chuckle, “Ask.”

“Ask–?” you're interrupted as he takes your cheeks into his warm palms.

“Can I?”

Billy pulls you into a kiss, intense and greedy. He knows you want him just as much as he wants you. His mouth is warm, beer sour. His breath brushes your face as he turns that penetrating gaze into your eyes. 

“You liked that. Yeah?”

His words are buried under music for the others, but you hear him loud and clear, nose to nose as you are. You nod. 

“What did you wanna ask?” 

Your tone is distracted, and your brain goes fuzzy when he kisses you again, your back bumps into the wall and you hold his forearms. His friends are snickering behind him. 

“There goes the consent rule” Steve says. 

“Was that ever a stable subject for him?” Nancy adds. 

Billy picks you up and you straddle him, earning moans from the others which both of you ignore. Billy takes you somewhere, a playful grin spreading his lips as he carries you up the steps. He’s drunk, stumbling to the side a little, bumping you into the wall. The two of you laugh. 

“A little sloppy, huh?” You chide. 

He snickers, tossing you up against his chest, his hands gripping up under your skirt, the sudden violation elicits a startled, thrilling sound as you look down at him with renewed excitement. His eyes amused, daring you to doubt his control. 

“Yeah,” he says, “A bit.” 

Upstairs, the music slightly faded, the darkened hallway is sparse of bodies. The occasional mumbled voice from behind a closed door is all. Billy backs you against a wall and now your tongues have met. Your fingers play in his hair and his crotch is pushed against yours, warm and so close. This feeling is painfully good. The power of being that thing he wants to fuck. Radient with some golden honey men can smell. His tongue curls into your mouth to taste it, hands messaging your ass, his fingers rubbing the little strip of cloth covering your pussy. 

He moves to your neck, biting hard enough to startle you and then sucking, intent on leaving a mark as his hips grind into you. The hard curve of his tip bumps your clit and your hand tightens in his hair. He’s warm. His toned body between your legs, pressing you to the wall, his mouth against your neck, drawing moans without hardly trying. The pressure of him between your legs feels so sweet. So perfect. 

He moves his mouth to your cleveage, then pulls down your dress, exposing your tits, and in the moment between seeing your nipples and sucking them, words tumble from his lips which reach your ears at a delay. 

“Can I?” 

Every swirl of his tongue around your nipple sends a little surge right through your clit, a magic trick that makes you press his head in harder, urging his sucking and gently nibbling. 

“Fuck,” you breath, every little swivel of your hips grinds against his shaft, and he moans, switching to your other nipple. Footsteps on the stairs send a flush of raw nerves buzzing through you in a warm rush. “Someone’s coming.” 

Your words hushed against his ear only excite him more. The idea that someone will see the two of you- see you with your legs open for him, as close to fucking as kissing can get. 

“Billy,” you whisper. The people have reached the hall and you know they’ve spotted you, their loud voices drop to hushed tones. A flush of embarrassment makes you squirm against the wall, burying your face into his neck to hide. “Billy, please.” 

Finally, he listens. Abruptly, he takes your weight against him and continues down the hall, bursting into the first room you find unlocked. You find yourself tossed onto your back on a mess of blankets. Billy pulls off your panties, his eyes heavy with lust and focused on your nakedness as he stands back and takes off his jacket. 

“Fuck, baby,” his eyes trail up to your chest, and finally your face. He smirks. “Don’t look so nervous.” 

“I’m not,” you say, though your words are belied by the quiver in your voice. You prop yourself up on your elbows as Billy is crawling onto the bed, his hand falls to your lips, rubbing your wetness over them, staring down at the act like it’s just so beautiful. 

“Billy,” 

“Yeah?” 

He doesn’t look up. Transfixed as he is by the slow swirling. 

“What did you wanna ask me?” 

He pushes his middle finger inside, and as he does, as he’s sinking in past the first knuckle and you’re softening at the feeling- his lips part, a wisp of an exhale. Finally, he looks at you with those drunken, lover-boy eyes and all of you goes warm from the center of your stomach out.

“If I could kiss you,” he says, leaning closer, eyeing your mouth again, his weight sinking the mattress beside your hip. You feel like a small animal about to be eaten. You start to form words, but he’s so close, and just as you try he pushes in another finger. 

“Ask me? You didn’t–”

He’s kissing you, and his fingers are buried inside, curving into your flesh, pulling wetness out of you like fingering fruit. He groans and pulls back to look down. 

“Fuck,” he says, “I knew it. Fuckin knew you were like this.” 

He pulls harder, his fingers pushing hard and slow and every stroke brings more out of you, making you moan, turning your mouth onto his neck, your hands into his hair. You never do manage to answer the question. He never gets around to properly asking.

Hope you loved it ~

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things #stranger things #fanfic #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove 18+ #miheartsedthings

[thecryptidenthusiast]

[tw medical trauma? I guess?]

@sidesteppostinghours

At first, he can’t quite tell what he’s supposed to be seeing.

The video opens to a stark white room, figures almost as white as their surroundings moving around a- table? Odd blotches of red he can’t make sense of on the figures hands and clothes. Time has eaten away at the tape’s quality, painting the footage in a grainy haze that has him moving his chair closer to the screen to make out the details.

“…severe frac-“ A voice crackles in and out, the audio even worse than the video. The only steady noise is the droning beep of a machine he can’t see.

“Watch- rate-“ There’s a body, stripped bare and laying out on the gurney he mistook as a table. His brain starts rapid fire connecting dots from there - the featureless scenery shaping into an operating room, the figures in white shifting into doctors in scrubs.

The splashes of scarlet…

“Spike-“ There’s no urgency in the tinny voice, even as the beep, beep, beeping starts to race. The hands buried wrist deep in the faceless corpse’s chest cavity don’t move any faster. “-cauter-“

Turn it off.

It looks like a horror movie with terribly realistic practical effects. A film student’s project in the macabre. Layers of pallid skin are peeled away and pinned back, giving the faceless figures room to work on their motionless- patient?

Turn it off.

This is some sort of shitty prank from somebody in his building. A practical joke meant to scare whichever unlucky idiot they decided to fuck with. The unmarked box, the manilla envelopes- all just meant to give a sense of unease. He’s just the dumbass that fell for it

Don’t look.

Logic can’t trump the primal fear coursing through him, the looming sense of dread that’s making his palms sweat. It’s an instinctual knowledge, his brain realizing he’s going to regret what he’s about to see and giving a last ditch effort to protect him. He manages to move, arm stiff, a marionette on strings. He almost brushes the power button.

The figure at the head of the table, the one covered in the most blood, shifts out of the camera’s view. There’s a clattering of tools, more beeping from machine’s settings being changed, but he can’t process anything beyond the body’s face.

Her face.

His stomach lurches, liquor going sour as bile rises in his throat. He has one single thought, so far away that it doesn’t even feel like his own.

Huh. I’m going to puke on my carpet.

It’s the face of a ghost. The one in every dream, every nightmare he’s had in recent years. The one his mind turns strangers into, that he never stopped looking in crowds in desperate attempts to see just one more time.

He’s on his feet, so sudden he knocks his chair backwards. The room is spinning, his world narrowing to pinpricks as his pulse beats a staccato rhythm in his ears. He doesn’t notice the rush of ozone, not until his mods arc a violent blue, but he recognizes the smell of fried electronics as the screen goes black.

#Ortega #fhr #hopefully tagging you was okay btw!! #I never managed to connect this together into anything coherent #I couldn’t get to a point where I was happy with it #I just liked the idea of having a convo about the autopsy w/ Ortega #and the farm feels fucked up enough to film these kinds of things #what’s a little medical trauma and secrets between ‘friends’ huh? #oc: erin becker #my writing

[axolozzy]

vent (tw for extreme ablism transphobia and overall terrible stuff idek if i should even post this im sorry i just really need to vent i will probably delete this later)

y’all i’ve finally gotten comfortable vocal stimming in front of people im comfortable with like my friends and family and now my mom all of a sudden thinks im hearing voices or that i have “multiple personalities”????????* like no i promise nothings “going on” with me and j don’t need to see a mental health professional im just stimming because im happy. what the fuck

*also i’ve literally told her for YEARS that it’s called DID and talking in different voices does not fucking mean someone has “multiple personalities” because this has come up SOO fucking much over the years and i’m getting tired of explaining it. i repeat things in funny voices because it’s fun. i’ve done it my whole fucking life it’s called echolalia it’s called STIMMING and she doesn’t listen to me whenever i explain that

so much for being comfortable being myself around people. “you never used to act like this” BECAUSE I WAS SCARED!!!!! BECAUSE I HAD TERRIBLE ANXIETY AND DIDNT WANT TO BE JUDGED FOR BEING WEIRD!!!!!! my parents genuinely think there’s something severely wrong with me now. they literally told me that. because i meow sometimes as a vocal stim. and so do LITERALLY ALL OF MY FRIENDS AND PEOPLE AT SCHOOL. PEOPLE IN CLASS TALK IN WEIRD VOICES AND MAKE ANIMAL NOISES TOO ALL THE FUCKING TIME!!!!!! ITS NOT FUCKING SERIOUS!!!!!! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT

i’m genuinely so fucking tired of this god who fucking gives a shit of im weird. i’ve been like this my whole life its not my fuckign fault that you didn’t pay attention and don’t remember. FUCK

my step dad’s a fucking dick too i genuinely hate him so fucking much i cant fucking take it anymore. NO!!!! IM NOT GOING TO FUCKING MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH YOU BECAUSE IT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE AS FUCK. “why” because im autistic. “that’s not an excuse” yes it fucking is bitch its literally a symptom of fucking autism. no i AM going to keep calling myself autistic because thats what i am. no its not “putting a label on myself” because im actually fucking diagnosed autistic im not going to pretend it doesnt exist. because i fucking exist. im not going to “beat” my autism by suppressing all of my autistic traits because you want me to. “why?” DO YOU FUCKING HEAR YOURSELF???????

and this guy worked in mental health for 17 years. he worked at a psychiatric hospital for 17 years. he never went to college or learned anything about mental health at all. he thinks he knows more than me about my fucking disability when he says the most outdated offensive shit ive ever heard about autism or DID or schizophrenia. he doesnt listen to a word i say because he’s “older than me and has more life experience” and therefore he automatically “knows more than me and im wrong.” he doesnt listen to anyone actually. he literally says to people not to correct him when he’s wrong because he doesnt like being told he’s wrong to being told what to do or think. he’s “not going to change his beliefs for anyone” even if he knows his “beliefs” are literally just fucking factually wrong or actively harmful. he purposely makes people feel like shit if they stand up for themselves against him. he purposely makes me feel like shit because im the only one in this fucking houses that dares to disagree with the shit he says. he’s a republican he’s obsessed with trump and blasts conservative transphobic racist news channels on the tv right outside my room at night so it keeps me awake and doesnt turn the tv down when i ask because apparently he has hearing problems but has never once got that checked out. he deadnames me and says “because of his adhd he’s not sure he’ll ever remember to use the right name so he’s not even gonna try.” and he says he loves and supports me but is constantly saying the most ableist transphobic shit to me and says he’s just giving me a hard time because he loves me. he has said on multiple occasions with a straight face that “fat people piss him off and they’re the one type of people that he doesnt feel bad for being outwardly hateful and discriminatory towards.” he tries to make me feel guilty for not believing in god. he’s anti abortion. he doesnt want me to get gender affirming care under his roof because he thinks its weird and disgusting and doesnt want me to get a dick even though i have told him a million fucking times i never want bottom surgery and i dont know why this is any of his fucking business anyway. he constantly tells me my online friends aren’t real friends and when he knows i love talking to them he purposely turns the wifi off. he asks me why im acting so weird and i say its how ive always acted alone and with my friends and im just being myself and he says “stop acting like that.” “why. im not going to change who i am for other people.” “well i want you to around me.” KILL YOURSELF IM SO FUCKING SERIOUS. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I HATE HIM SO FUCKING MUCH

he’s a manipulative bastard and whenever we get into arguments, SOME FUCKING HOW a few hours later were happy and forgiving eachother and im the one saying sorry. he’s an asshole to me and everyone around him, he’s an asshole to my mom. they are constantly fighting but always deny it. i cant fucking take it anymore

sorry for this vent i know people dont follow me to know about my personal life i know i shouldnt say this stuff but i dont fucking care im so sick of this. i woke up this mornign feeling more excited happy and motivated than i have felt all week and it was ruined the second my mom came in my room saying that the way i act (my literal vocal stims) make her think there’s something severely wrong with me. i love her more than anything in the world she’s the best mom ever but what the actual fuck??????? anyway i hate my stepdad and even though i dont believe in hell i hope he fucking burns

#vent

[fullofgutsndopamine]

sway (you’re swimming in my veins)

or: hasan is too big of an idiot to say he likes you, so he gets into fights to get your attention

or: you'll have to pry drunk, frat hasan from my cold dead hands

tw/creepy men, toxic masculinity, drunk people, alcohol, cursing, excessive use of “princess” as a pet name

the music is so fucking loud, you can't hear yourself think. Your hands are wrapped around a red solo cup of water, mostly to try to fit in it, to not draw attention to yourself- your eyes scan the crowd as you nod to the music, even though you don't know what this music is at all-

"You're staring." Your friend comes over, elbows you in your side, a smirk is covered up by the rim of the solo cup.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You lie,

"Frat guys are gross and I simply like to stare at them like they're creatures at a zoo. Some sort of odd creature to point at in awe."

"Right," Sam, your best friend snorts at your elbow, "And this has nothing to do with that hasan guy, right?"

"hasan," you snort, eyes everywhere but at Sam, “i didn’t even remember that’s his name-“

Sam rolls her eyes, "You need to leave him alone. He's bad news. And no-not in the 'i can fix him' sort of way-in-the-this guy needs to be looked at professionally sort of way."

Your voice drops, "What happened?" You ask, like it's a conspiracy theory. And it almost is, in the way you've heard whispers of him, of the bad things he's done, friends grabbing each other's elbows and pulling each other in close, cupped hands to the others ears when he walks in-but no ones ever elaborated beyond a warning to keep away.

Sam sighs, a deep breath, like it's the weight of the world on her shoulders, even though she's just telling someone else's tragic backstory.

"He's-" another sigh, "Just a dick, okay? He talks with his hands, not his mouth. He's always trying to get into a fight. Just-watch him, alright?"

Your head whips around to the guy pushed in the corner, throwing ping pong balls into red solo cups, stopping long enough to yell and throw his fists over his head.

"We're looking at the same guy, right?" You push.

This guy has a mop of unruly curly hair on top of his head, how he stops every once in a while to nervously mess with it, a too big black hoodie on, these dark bags under his eyes-you wouldn't talk to him for the fun of it, but he definitely doesn't look like he'd cause any real harm.

"Just because someone looks harmless, doesn't mean they are. Remember that. I'll be right back, I gotta tell James we'll be ready to go soon."

and she squeezes your shoulder and is off to find her boyfriend. You roll your eyes, the two of them are practically connected at the hip, and it makes you even more self aware of how alone you are.

"Y'know, you look like a creep in the corner?" A voice enters next to you, making you jump. You've never seen this guy before, short, blonde hair a mop on top of his head. "Did I scare you? I'm scott” when he smiles it reveals a partially toothless smile.

you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. a hard thump in your ears. something is wrong, you can tell.

"N-No, I wasn't scared." You try and play it off with a smile, "My friend Sam is around. I should go look for her. Drunk people, yknow-" you laugh, turning to leave, when he reaches out, his hand grips your wrist, hard.

"Stay."

in the corner, hasan is half listening to his two fraternity brothers attempt to talk politics ("Bruh. if you actually think Trump is bad-“) begging his eyes not to glaze over, just nodding his head, when his eyes meet yours.

Originally, he's caught in almost a dead space stare, just somewhere to rest his tired eyes (he'll insist later that it was just that, nothing more. nothing less.) but when he sees you try and move your arm away from this guy and him advancing on you more, well-

"Hey-" He's by your side before he can even stop himself and his Ma's voice is in his head immediately: why are you putting yourself somewhere you don't belong? but he shakes his head, pushing the thought down deep, "What's the problem over here?"

and he stands up straight, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed, trying to look intimidating because he always insist he isn't scary at all, even if his bruised knuckles say otherwise-

And you look, well-relieved and he hates how visibility less stressed you look now that he's here, like he's some sort of hero or as if he did anything big-

"No problem." The guy speaks right away, a slight slur on his lips that makes hasan roll his eyes.

"I think you should leave, Scott. I think they're uncomfortable." hasan keeps his voice low, you have to strain to hear it over the music.

"I think they're big enough to talk for themselves, yeah?" Scott smiles and it makes your skin crawl, an involuntary shiver coming out as you shrug his hand off your shoulder again.

"Get your hands off of them," hasan is taking a step towards Scott, "I'm not telling you again to leave them alone."

"hasan-"You try, not even knowing this guy, trying to talk him off the ledge, wondering if you're about to see what his reputation is here for.

"Yeah, hasan," Scott smirks, his voice high pitched, obviously making fun of you, "Listen to the little-"

Later, you'll insist you didn't see who threw the first punch, even if you definitely saw hasan’s knuckles collide with Scott's jaw first.

A small crowd forms around the two, and in Scott's defense, he gets a few good punches to hasan’s left eye before he's yanked away by a friend.

Sam finds you, tries to get you to leave, especially after this run in with Scott still has you on edge, but you insist you need to talk to him after his little stunt.

So naturally, that's how you find yourself holding his hand, dragging him upstairs to the bathroom, ripping off the out of order sign on the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. You set the toilet seat down and nudge him to sit down and he does, with a groan as goi go through cabinets.

"I didn't even get a thank you." He mumbles.

"Are-" your head pops out from behind a cabinet, where you're digging to find some kind of disinfectant, your narrowed at him, "are you pouting right now?"

He shrugs, staring straight ahead.

"I'm so sorry, but i can't take you serious with that bag of peas on your face." You manage to finally say, barely getting it out without laughing at him as he sets it on the counter.

"Here," You roll your eyes as you finally squat in front of him (even if he towers over you) "So you don't get an infection at the very least. Jesus, that's a nasty cut."

Your hand touches the edge of it and he winces,

"You sure you know what you're doing, princess?"

You look up long enough to glare at him, pouring some alcohol into the lid, decide his comment doesn't deserve an answer.

Instead, you do what you usually do when you're uncomfortable, and make jokes: "charming. haven’t been called princess in years-“ Sure, you've never talked to him but this feels like something someone would usually add onto the nasty impressions they do off him.

he pulls away as you put your hand to his face, his eyes narrowed, eyebrows one, "thanks, i like to think it’s original-“

You stare at him hard because he has to be joking.

“sure,” you level, knowing he won’t remember this in the morning, “i’m lying.”

He nods, satisfied with himself until he sees you unwrapping various supplies, spreading them out in front of you.

"You sure you know what you're doin', princess?”

your hand is against his face as your try to bite your tongue from pointing out the pet name , instead giving him a hard look as you bring the alcohol soaked pad to his eye.

"Fuck!" He finally yells, his hand flies to yours, rests on top of your hand, "Warn someone next time, why don't ya?"

"Can't handle a little alcohol?" you tease with a smirk, bringing gauze up to his eye to blot at it.

"You're a mess."

"You should see the other guy." He mumbles flatly with a groan, "So-that thank you? i'll take it now."

you finally look up and meet his eyes and he's smirking at you.

"Let me get this straight." You grab the peas and hold them, "you just got into a huge fight-in the middle of a party your frat is hosting and you want me to say thank you?"

"I was defending your honor, princess." He insists, that stupid smirk doesn't leave his face.

"I don't need anyone to defend me, certainly not you." You pick the peas up and put them back on his face, maybe with a little more pressure than necessary you hold them there for a second, "I'm leaving, so i won't be here to patch you up. Don't do anything stupid."

and you turn to leave before you do something stupid, like thank him for helping you, or worse-sees the pink splashed across your face.

three weeks pass before you see him again, and honestly-between midterms, your job and everything else in your life, you almost forget about his existance.

That is, as usual, until your eyes wander over to his again.

He sees you staring, and before your head can whip away from his, he gives you a smirk, a wink, throws back what's left in his cup and makes his way to you.

"Funny seeing you here, princess'" He smirks, leans down to talking your ear.

You roll your eyes, "Your frat is with mine. don't act like i'm here for any other reason."

you don't tell him how happy you are to have someone to talk to, always feel out of place at these parties, and he's like a forgotten puppy in a room at a party and you're happy to see him.

"Nah, not for another fifteen minutes or so” He smirks into his beer bottle, almost empty.

"Sorry."

you can tell by his smirk he isn't sorry at all.

and you aren't either, but you have a role to play up, so you groan.

"I gotta check on Sam, make sure she's still alive." you sigh, standing up, wiping imaginary dust off your pants.

"Awe, come on, princess. just five more minutes."

"Goodnight, hasan." you roll your eyes again, walking away.

so naturally, his first thought when Adam, who's equally as drunk as him, gives him a shove, is well, at least he'll see you again, as his hand collided with Adams jaw.

"we've gotta stop meeting like this." he smirks as he holds up the bag of peas to his nose, the fight now over and he sits on the hard title of the bathroom, his knees to his chest. you only knew about the fight because when people were tending to him after he asked for you specifically, by name.

"Is that the same fuckin' bag from three weeks ago?" you ask instead, "Jesus fuck, do y'all ever grocery shop?"

But, against your better judgment, your opening and closing cabinets for cleaner.

"They're frozen, it's fine." he insists as you kneel on the floor next to him and eh closes his eyes immediately when you sit next to him. "You smell nice." he adds.

"Fuck off, hasan." You groan, but you're grateful his eyes are shut so he doesn't see you blushing.

"i'm only speakin' the truth, princess' he smiles, his eyes shut, and he's feeling too confident-until there's more alcohol on his nose and he's groaning-

by first instinct-purely, first instinct, you insist-your hand reaches out and you wrap your hand around his. "You're fine. this should probably warrant a visit to the hospital." you sigh, his hand "You're fine. this should probably warrant a visit to the hospital." you sigh, his hand stays around yours.

"I'm fine." he sighs, opens one eye, still has his teeth barred from the alcohol. "Just stings a lil is all. Listen, lemme get you a drink.

“Just one."

"if i say no am i going to meet you in the bathroom again to patch you up?" you sigh.

"Probably." he smirks, shrugging. at least he's honest.

"One drink, that's it. And no more fights." he laughs, doesn't say anything at first as he stands, offers his hand and helps you up.

"Deal. c'mon, i know just the place." and you let him wrap his hands around yours, fingers interlocked as he leads the way.

#caroline writes #hasan #hasan piker #hasan piker fanfic #hasan piker fanfiction #hasan piker ff #hasan piker fic #hasan piker imagine #hasan piker x reader #hasan piker x y/n #hasanabi #hasanabi x reader #hasanabi x y/n #hasanabi x you

[alexlesuagz]

Small Snippet of a Fanfic I’m working on! I hope you enjoy!

[TW: Mention of Drugs]

Feb. 13, 2018

10 more minutes until lunch.

Vicky raps her pinky against the desk repeatedly in anticipation.

Come on, damn clock, go faster!

She grabs her paper and scribbles some more answers onto her worksheet. It’s science, a subject she gave zero shits about, so she doesn’t care whether her answers are correct.

Once she finishes, she scratches her left cheek as she glares up at the clock, now continuously tapping her foot against the floor like it’s some belated kind of morse code.

8 more minutes.

She lets out a loud exhale through her nostrils as she puts her head down on her desk, her hands running through her wavy black locks.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Chelsea, her best friend, giving her a small look of concern from the other side of the classroom.

Are you alright? Chelsea mouths.

Vicky nods quickly. I’m fine, she bullshits silently.

Chelsea looks back at her worksheet, and Vicky looks back up at the clock.

5 more minutes.

Fuck this. If she had to last another unbearable 5 minutes in Miss Goldfinch’s class, she was going to lose her fucking mind.

Also, it was 5 mere minutes, so why not just ditch? She thinks as her hand shoots up.

“Yes, Vicky?” Miss Goldfinch asks.

“CAN I USE THE BATHROOM?” Vicky exclaims in her best I-am-in-pain-and-I-must-piss voice.

Miss Goldfinch glances at the clock. “Vicky, dear, it’s 4 and a half more minutes until the end of lunch, can’t you just hold it in?”

Welp, that didn’t work. Time for the Trump card.

“I DON’T THINK I CAN, MISS GOLDFINCH.” Vicky says through clenched teeth.

Miss Goldfinch looks back at her and frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

Vicky walks up to Miss Goldfinch and whispers some words into her ear.

“Oh…OH…okay, then. Do you need anything?”

Vicky shakes her head rapidly.

“...Well, alright, then, go right ahead to the bathroom, and take your backpack with you if you must.”

“Thank you, ma’am!” Vicky shouts as she grabs her bag and power walks out of the classroom.

Great. Now that period 4 torture time’s basically over, now all I need to do is wait for…wait, what’s his name?

She pulls out her phone and checks her notes.

Julian Ramis “The Murderer Kid”

…Ah, yeah, him.

According to reports, the kid was arrested for murder around five years ago, which is why people tend to avoid him. However, she did not know everything that happened, and even information about the crime wasn't exactly what she wanted.

What she wanted was cannabis.

“Who’s that?” Vicky asks, pointing to the boy sitting alone at the less crowded side of the bleachers, typing on his laptop.

“Oh, him?” Chelsea asks.

“Yeah, beanie boy.” Vicky replies. “Is he a transfer or something? I haven’t really noticed him before until now.”

“Oh, no, he ain’t a transfer.” Chelsea responds, shaking her head. “That’s Julian Ramis. Apparently, dude, uh-”

Chelsea’s hesitating now.

“He what?”

“He, uh, ‘game over’-ed someone, like 5 years ago.”

Vicky could feel her eyes widen and her jaw drop. “Are you, like, serious about this?!”

“Yeah, like totes serious!” Chelsea exclaims as the two girls walk down the bleacher stairs. “Why else would he be so emo-looking?! Constantly smells of weed, too. I feel kinda bad for him, but at the same time, he’s like, really scary. Last time I tried talking to him, he immediately started getting high and mighty, calling me a ‘ginger, rat-faced bimbo!’” She shudders.

Of course, a guy who constantly smells of weed would have weed in his general vicinity, right?

Vicky rehearses her plan in her hand once again. Alright, once the bell rings, find Julian, drag him over to the gender-neutral bathroom, and force him to fork over the drugs. And if all else goes to absolute shit, then remember that one self-defense acronym!...What was that one acronym again-?

BBBBBRRRRRIIIIINNNNNG!!!!!

Oh yeah, ‘solarplex’, ‘instep’, ‘nose’, and ‘groin’. Alright, I’m ready.

When lunch comes around, the whole school grounds are open, so Vicky knew she had a lot of searching to do. However, considering where she had seen him the first time, she had a good idea on where he was going to be.

Sure enough, as Vicky clambers onto the bleachers, she spots Julian in the relatively uncrowded corner, eating a ham sandwich with one hand and typing on his laptop with the other.

He’s also hidden in the shade, like a true emo.

Vicky takes a deep breath in and exhales. Fuck it. Just introduce yourself and try not to get into trouble.

She walks over to Julian, who’s still too invested in his laptop to even acknowledge her.

What is he even doing, anyway? Writing fanfiction?

As quietly as possible, she looks over his shoulder to study his screen.

Oh.

Oh.

First of all, Chelsea was right, he does in fact smell like weed.

Second of all, what the hell is he even trying to type? “Rejected and despised by all, I walk a dark and tormented path, leading to despair…”

Julian suddenly shuts his laptop.

“You know I know you’re behind me, right?”

Shit.

#criminal case #criminal case the conspiracy #vicky lopez #julian ramis #chelsea bloom #tw mention of drugs

[aspenforest732]

Mortem ad Wrens Chapter 10: Whispering Voices Strike a Spark

tw: bullying, child abuse, ableism, flashback, body memories, abuse victim signs, ED behavior, body policing, food rationing, light verbal abuse

'text' JSL Text thoughts

---

Akira groaned as they saw the matchups. No fucking way am I losing to Yaoyorozu. I’ll just have to throw the quarter-final.

Shinso charged into the center, clearly counting on Midoriya not having full control of his quirk. Akira watched with pride as he tried to goad Midoriya into responding but never quite pulled out their trump card.

“Who do you think will win?” Ashido asked excitedly from the row above.

‘Midoriya, 100%,’ Akira signed with Koda interpreting.

Ashido scowled, “Aw, you’re no fun. Why not root for your friend?”

Mad Banquet chuckled, and Tokoyami said, “We are. Future underground heroes don’t want to advance too far into the brackets, though. The public being overly familiar with our quirks will only be a detriment.”

Akira nodded, adding ‘Getting to the brackets is to show we have physical prowess outside our quirks. Animal Whisper and I will be the only ones in our group who want to get past the first round.’ At Tokoyami and Koda’s confused looks, Akira darkened. ‘It’s Rich Miss. I’m not losing to that prick.’

Midoriya bodily tossed Shinso off the platform, the strange red lines glowing under his skin but not leaving any immediately apparent broken bones. Huh, hopefully he’s starting to get a grip on it.

Shoto’s complete over display of power left Akira confused as the crowd wasn’t sure whether to cheer or be disappointed at the quick victory. Shoto was the definition of calm and collected in fights, and Sero wasn’t the type to provoke him.

Akira winced as Kaminari stepped onto the stage, electricity already arcing around him in excitement. Koda’s rocky skin would act as protection against Kaminari’s attacks, but a highly concentrated shock might get through. As the pair traded blows back and forth, Kaminari tried to focus his energy but most of it still spread out too much to be effective against such a grounded opponent. Akira noticed Midoriya excitedly writing in his notebook as he mumbled about Kaminari’s new level of control and potential as a human taser. Koda ended the match by continually pushing the smaller kid back, eventually forcing him to use their million-volt technique, which momentarily stunned Koda but ultimately let him walk Kaminari off the stage.

Akira reveled at Hatsume’s presentation, thoroughly enjoying both Ida’s growing frustration and the girl’s ideas. Those boots would help with jump distance over rooftops. I probably wouldn’t have to warp or use my capture weapon to get to higher buildings with those. They could probably even include more support for overusing my quirk with how flexible her uses seem. Akira made a note in their own notebook to visit Hatsume in her classroom to see about costume and mobility improvements.

Mina easily beat Aoyama, dodging his rays with figure skating-like maneuvers, although Akira winced at his damaged support belt. ‘Hopefully there’s someone available to fix that for him, I’ve never seen him without it.’

With that, Akira headed for the tunnels, hanging an eager smile on their face that didn’t quite reach their eyes as they stepped out with their name. Yaoyorozu met their smile with a condescending one, stance relaxed even as the match started. Darting forward, Akira punched her in the stomach, letting her hastily formed shield drop into a clone as they warped behind and roundhouse kicked the girl’s head, sending her stumbling forwards.

As Yaoyorozu whipped around, Akira danced back, watching for the sparkles of Creation. They grabbed her wrist and pulled as they warped, legs now wrapped around Yaoyorozu’s neck as they both hit the ground, Akira spinning to land on her back and pin her arms. In moments, Yaoyorozu yielded, and Akira backed off, not offering a hand but bowing shallowly as they left the arena.

Instead of going to the stands, Akira grabbed a couple protein bars and made their way to the other side’s break room and knocked.

Cracking the door, Ashido brightened, “Oh! Come in, did you want to talk about something or just chill? I’ve got some protein bars if you want.”

Akira smiled but shook their head, holding up their own. They wrote in their notebook, “I came to talk about our match. I’m not going to try for the semifinals because I don’t want the exposure.”

Ashido pouted as she sipped boba tea. “Why advance from the first round, then?”

Akira scowled. “Because Yaoyorozu is an ableist prick, and I wasn’t about to give her more ammo. I came to ask if there’s a specific style or unusual way to use your acid that you want to showcase. The class powerhouses will probably take the podium, but we can still put on a good show.”

Ashido grinned and started outlining her ideas, Akira asking a few questions but otherwise letting her drive the meeting. Akira kept an eye on Tokoyami’s match with Kirishima, but they’d already worked out showcasing the former’s abilities in case any of their training group got matched up.

As they sipped on a protein drink in the stands, Akira watched Uraraka and Bakugo’s fight in awe. Respect and alertness sparked in Bakugo’s eyes as shapes kept floating a little too long in the cloud. What is she pulling? Akira wondered as Bakugo kept her at a distance, tearing apart the stage as the cameras tried to keep focus on the shadows within the cloud of dust. With so little to see on stage, Akira started following the floating debris up, grinning as they noticed the field Uraraka was setting up. Glancing at Tokoyami, they nudged him and gestured up, happy to see a similar shocked expression.

Even as the crowd booed and Aizawa rebuked them, Bakugo grew more nervous, the tension in his shoulders increasing with every blast. Uraraka finally stopped her assault, trembling slightly as she stood upright and thanked Bakugo for keeping his guard up. Akira grinned as Uraraka let the meteor shower rain down with “I’m going to win!”

While most of the cameras were focused on the meteor shower or Uraraka running up, Akira watched as Bakugo started to brace his arm. No… he’s never made an explosion that big without his gauntlets, right? Akira stared in wonder as the force of the blast rippled out, obliterating most of the debris above Bakugo, showering the field and roof with the rest, and catapulting Uraraka back to the edge of the stage. The crowds were blown into their seats from the air pressure, and a hush fell over the crowd as the smoke cleared on the two opponents.

Both were clearly exhausted by the efforts, but Bakugo grinned as Uraraka started gearing up for another attack, both charging only for the girl to collapse after a few steps. Bakugo immediately pulled up, concern flickering over his face even as she crawled forward and he dropped into a hesitant stance. Her body fully gave out a meter away though, and as Midnight checked on her, Bakugo was declared the victor. Tsu and Ida slipped out of the stands to check on her as med bots wheeled Uraraka away.

Midoriya’s fight with Shoto went shockingly horrible with the power Akira knew him to be capable of. It almost seemed like instead of trying to win, he was trying to get Shoto to do something. Remembering the overheard conversation earlier, Akira blanched and glared at Midoriya.

“I don’t understand the strategy here,” Tokoyami muttered.

‘It’s not a strategy,’ Akira signed derisively. ‘He’s trying to force Peppermint to use his left side. That kid’s been through a lot, Broccoli shouldn’t be toying with him like this. Especially with how many times he’s breaking bones again. He’s going to regret that next time the weather sours.’

The match continued for a few long minutes, waves of ice barely missing some of the crowd until the two were not even a meter from each other and a blast of heat surged through the stands. Squinting, Akira could barely see with the raging inferno that must be coming from Shoto. Moments later, Endeavor loudly started congratulating his son on stopping his rebellious phase, and Akira wanted nothing more in the moment than to strangle the man. Tokoyami put a hand on their arm, Dark Shadow offering support from the shadow of his sleeve as Akira nodded stiffly at the gesture.

As the two geared up, Shoto activating both sides and Midoriya surging forward, Akira barely made out structures sprouting between the two before they exploded outward, showering the stands with debris and blowing everyone back as a large plume of smoke erupted from the stadium and obscured the opponents before revealing Midoriya slumped against the far wall. The crowd erupted in cheers as he was carried off by the med bots and Uraraka quickly left the stands. The rest of Midoriya’s clique soon followed as there was a break to reset the stage.

‘I’m going to talk to Shoto,’ Akira signed distractedly. The rest of Mad Banquet nodded, opting to stay and wait for the next match. After a moment, though, Akira slowed as a soft pair of footsteps caught up to them. ‘Do you need something?’

Shinso frowned, ‘He’s the one you were talking about, right? I want to go with you.’

Akira paused, turning to face him. ‘I don’t have proof right now, and I don’t know if he’ll even want to talk with me. I’m not going to stop you, but he might feel cornered with two approaching him.’

Shinso just shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets after signing, ‘If nothing else, I can interpret for you.’

As they rounded on the break room, Akira almost ran into a chest of flames, jumping back at the heat. They squinted, barely concealing their hatred as they signed, ‘What are you doing back here? This is for students and faculty only.’

“Hmph I was just speaking with Shoto, not that it’s any of your business,” he sneered, towering over them. “Now, out of my way.”

“You’re really not supposed to be back here,” Shinso drawled, expression a touch more neutral. “You should leave before you get kicked out.” Akira pulled their phone just far enough out of their pocket to make sure they selected the right contact before pinging their location.

Endeavor’s flames flared as he stepped towards Shinso, “Insolent boy, I am the number two hero and will go where I please.”

Shinso’s eyes briefly flashed with fear as Akira swiftly put themself between the two, biting back memories of fire raging across their skin. ‘Like we said, you’re not supposed to be here. Please leave. Eraser will be making his rounds soon, and he wouldn’t like you back here.’

Endeavor scoffed but pushed past after leveling them with another glare. A tense moment later, Akira sunk to the floor, back against the wall as they canceled the alert. From down the hall, they distantly heard Aizawa’s voice with a rarely heard anger instead of the usual frustration or monotone he used with the class.

“Do you have the ball Inui gave you?” Shinso signed as he asked. Akira shook their head, gesturing to the lack of storage in their uniform. “Can I do anything to help?” he continued softly.

Akira just shook their head, gesturing to the floor and focusing on their breath and senses as their heart tried to hammer out of their chest. After a moment of thrumming their fingers while their arms itched, Akira hesitantly held out their hands, which Shinso immediately took, gently rubbing circles. As they started to calm down, Akira tensed at another set of footsteps approaching, only to relax as they recognized their teacher’s “I want you to hear me coming” gait.

Taking a deep breath, they stood and offered a hand to Shinso as a mask of neutrality settled on their face. Shinso gave them a worried, searching look before accepting the hand as Aizawa walked around the corner.

“Are you two alright? I saw your ping,” Aizawa said gruffly. Shinso looked confused, about to pull out his phone when Akira showed him theirs.

‘Sorry, Endeavor was being difficult, and we knew he wasn’t supposed to be here.’

Shinso snorted awkwardly, “That’s one way to put it. He tried to threaten us when we pointed out he shouldn’t be back here.” Shinso added with a bit more venom, “And he already spoke with Shoto.”

Aizawa looked over them again for injuries before raising an eyebrow. “I’ll make sure that’s noted. Why is him speaking with his son more of a problem?”

Shinso looked to Akira, who just crossed their arms. He may have followed through faster than they would’ve thought, but Akira wasn’t about to trust Aizawa with this. At least not yet.

Eyes narrowing at the silent refusal, Aizawa sighed, “The next round is about to start. You two head back to the stands, and I’ll check on Todoroki.”

Koda’s fight with Ida lasted longer than any of Mad Banquet was expecting, Koda’s improving hand-to-hand and use of birds as distractions earning him the precious seconds he needed to dodge. Ultimately, Ida still beat him with Recipro Burst, but from the crowd’s murmurs, Koda would definitely be getting a couple offers. Akira grinned and gave him a thumbs up as they passed in the hall.

As Akira and Mina walked up to the stage, Akira attuned to the song Mina was humming, matching their steps to hers as they found their rhythm. When the match started, Mina opened with an arching slide to her right as Akira matched their steps to the staccato rhythm they’d talked about. Just as Mina aimed an acid ball, Akira warped from an acid patch to behind her, going to punch her shoulder only to get met with an acid-covered fist.

Dancing back, Akira matched her steps again, this time charging forward first, weaving around the puddles Mina had been dropping until the last second. They warped from one to the far side of the field, Mina rapidly firing off a spread of smaller acid balls as Akira warped between puddles and let each clone dispel before warping again. As they closed in on Mina, Akira shifted to the left, and with a nod, Mina let acid pour into her hands before tackling Akira as they warped, hurling the acid ball in the opposite direction. It connected with Akira’s side as they spun to face Mina, knocking them off the stage. The two shook hands, Akira flicking some acid onto the girl as the two laughed and separated.

“Hey, Reaper!” Bakugo stalked up to them, face stormy. “The hell was that? You just threw the match!”

Akira cocked their head. ‘I told you during training. My goal was never to reach the finals; hell, I wouldn’t have gone past the first round if I hadn’t been paired with Rich Miss. Pink Queen and I just coordinated so she could show off an unusual style she’s been working on. It wouldn’t have been effective in the first two rounds, and you obviously aren’t a good matchup for her, so I was happy to help.’

“Well, next sparring session I want a match.” Akira’s eyebrows shot up. “You could’ve easily pulled the same shit you did with that prick and won, so I expect you to go all out.”

After a moment, Akira nodded. Bakugo was more perceptive than they originally though he was, but the loud blonde had been surprising them since he first asked Akira to get lunch with his group. He did seem to be mellowing out marginally… ‘Hey,’ Akira signed, tapping on the blonde’s shoulder as he turned. ‘Don’t let that get to your head, okay? I don’t want to know what they’ll do if you try to refuse the podium.’

Grabbing their pack from the break room, Akira chugged the last of their protein drinks and grabbed a jelly pouch. They weren’t in trouble yet, but it took a bit for the adrenaline to die off and their quirk to slow down. As the semifinals wrapped up with Bakugo and Shoto taking the top two spots, as expected, Akira’s thoughts drifted back to Aizawa. What is his baseline? It doesn’t seem like he considers the weight I have now as a buffer even though it’s above starvation mode.

Akira glared at Midoriya as he tried to egg on Shoto, who was clearly still conflicted. As Bakugo made an impressive spiral of smoke in the air, Akira gasped at Shoto’s left side briefly lighting up before winking out. Oh, kid… Akira winced as Shoto was tossed like a ragdoll by the blast, his glazed-over and unseeing eyes having little to do with the blast.

Kirishima and Kaminari stood up with Shinso and Akira, acknowledging each other with a nod before quickly making their way to Recovery Girl. As they reached the nurse’s secondary office, Akira noticed Inui coming out with an angry and confused Bakugo. Kirishima and Kaminari hesitantly peeled off to wait for them.

Inside, Shoto was awake but unseeing. ‘I think I know what’s going on, can I assist?’

Recovery Girl nodded, quietly telling the pair to be gentle.

‘Hey Peppermint, can you hear Blank?’ Akira asked, Shinso interpreting.

A slight nod.

‘That’s great. Do you know where you are?’

‘Nurse.’ After a moment, he grimaced, seeming unsure. ‘House.’

Akira and Shinso blinked at each other, neither aware he’d been learning. ‘You are at Nurse’s office. He’s nowhere near you right now, you’re safe. Right now, it’s just you, me, Blank, and Nurse in her office. You’re on one of the medical beds, and it smells like disinfectant in here. Can you describe what the bed feels like?’

Shoto slowly started to look more aware as he fingerspelled. ‘Coarse, firm, narrow, cold.’

‘You’re cold?’ Recovery Girl brought a few more blankets as Shinso interpreted. ‘Nurse brought some blankets. Would you like them? They look a bit softer than what’s currently on the bed.’

They spent the next fifteen minutes coaxing him out of the flashback. At some point, Inui stepped in, and they had to reassure Shoto over again that the heavy footfalls weren’t his father. He still seemed a little dazed but nodded when Inui asked if Shoto would be able to attend the presentation ceremony.

When only Bakugo and Mina were next to the podium to be raised, Akira turned to Cementoss. ‘Is Engine Calf alright? I didn’t see him at Nurse’s office.’

“He had a family emergency, unfortunately.”

Bakugo was still seething but seemed significantly calmer then when he’d stormed out of Recovery Girl’s office with Inui. I wonder if he also continued therapy. That would also explain some of his mellowing out, although I’d imagine Kirishima and Kaminari helped, too.

Shinso and Akira stuck by Shoto’s side, Tokoyami and Koda giving them some distance after reassurances they were there for support. The latter two and Aizawa ran interference when Endeavor tried to approach Shoto on the way to the bus while Shinso and Akira kept the kid’s focus on getting back. By the time they reached U.A., Shoto was back to his reserved, quiet self instead of the haunted look he’d been sporting.

‘Thank you,’ he signed hesitantly as they started to unload.

Akira smiled sadly back. ‘Let us know if you want help getting you and whoever else away. I know some people, and I know Blank’s on board, too.’

Back in the classroom, Aizawa announced they’d have the next two days of school off after which they’d be given their internship offers. Akira hung back, waiting for the others to disperse and Shinso to give them space as they approached Aizawa.

“Can I help you with something, Mori?”

Akira took a breath, fiddling with their backpack straps before signing, ‘I’m down to the last jelly pouch after the festival, and you said to tell you when I was out.’ Aizawa raised an eyebrow, and Akira quickly backtracked. ‘Sorry, I assumed it was you. Never mind, it’s fine.’

“Kid-”

‘Really, I should probably get going,’ Akira spun on their heel to leave.

“Mori, it was me. Next time, I expect you to tell me sooner, so you never run on empty.” Aizawa motioned for them to follow him as they made their way to the teacher’s lounge. Striding past a few teachers Akira recognized and a blonde man with All Might-like hair strands, Aizawa brought them to a box marked with his name and opened it to reveal several rows of jelly pouches organized by flavor. “Take as many as you want; Nezu keeps it well-stocked.”

Midnight gasped from behind them. “Shouta? Sharing his jelly pouches? Who are you and what have you done with that grouch?”

Akira winced, retracting a hand from reaching towards the mango flavor. Aizawa fixed her with a glare while putting several in Akira’s hands. “Mind your own business, Nemuri.” He turned to Akira, signing, ‘She’s just teasing, don’t mind her.’

After a moment, Akira continued, grabbing ten pouches. “Is that it, kid?” Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow. He sighed at their nod, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The point is for you to eat these as needed, not to ration them out. Here,” Aizawa started grabbing handfuls of the flavors they’d selected and handing them to Akira, who was forced to put them in their backpack or let them keep piling in their arms. “If you run out of a flavor you’re in the mood for or are down to five pouches, tell me or any nearby teacher if I’m unavailable.”

Akira hesitantly nodded, signing a quick thanks. As they left the teacher’s lounge, Shinso met back up with them. ‘I just need to grab my duffle bag, you don’t have to wait for me,’ Akira signed as they started down the hallway to the locker rooms.

Aizawa frowned, “Why do you need your duffle? Your things are safe here.”

Akira briefly froze before forcing themself to relax. ‘I left some things in it that I’ll need over the next couple days.’

Aizawa narrowed his eyes but allowed Shinso to pull him along to the gate. That bullet dodged, Akira quickly gathered their things, double-checking that nothing was missing before starting the long walk to the train station.

---

last chapter and this one’s title are actually lyrics to We Are Determined from Amazing Grace the Musical. I swear when I was writing the chapters from here on out I thought the lyrics fit. They do not most of the time, but I can't be bothered to find better chapter titles.

Flashbacks are rough, and they’re not always the full-sensory flashbacks like you see in media. In this one, I pictured Shoto having a primarily touch- and sight-based flashback, so while things weren’t lining up, he was having trouble convincing himself that he wasn’t back in that moment.

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#bullying #child abuse #ableism #flashback #body memories #abuse victim signs #ED behavior #body policing #food rationing #light verbal abuse #when good people go to war #mortem ad wrens #chapter 10 #nonbinary mc #nonbinary shinso hitoshi #nonbinary kaminari denki #nonbinary dark shadow #dadzawa #popmic #sports festival #mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #wattpad #ffnet #lgbtqia

[miggylol]

#yes his official account posted this #tw: trump's fucking face #tw: trump's fucking voice

[salazarslytherin]

head boy (j.p x y/n)

requested: nope! just a short birthday tribute to the one and only mr james potter himself send in your own request here!

🃛 masterlist

cw/tw: smut, oral sex (male-receiving)

summary: in which james gets a birthday surprise from you

word count: 0.8k

a/n: a bit short and slightly late but i hope you guys like it!

You crept towards the secluded room, fingering the little plaque that said 'Head Boy' on the door before flicking your wand, muttering an incantation under your breath to dismantle the wards James and his friends put up around the room.

"Bloody hell, what's the point of this many wards. Need to do this every time I'm here, what's the fucking point."

A soft, muffled 'click' sounded from the door, causing a small 'yes' to be elicited. Pushing the door open, you shot a quick glance down at the watch you were wearing.

06:30, perfect. Half an hour till sunrise, which meant half an hour before the rest of the marauders inevitably come to wish James a happy birthday.

Half an hour was all you needed to give James his birthday present.

Well, his first birthday present.

⚔︎.

The head boy was sleeping soundly in his bed, blanket half tossed aside to reveal most of his quidditch-toned chest, red and gold pajama pants slung lowly on his hips, snores bubbling from his lips.

You stood above the bed, admiring the sight of your boyfriend sound asleep, his tousled hair shining in the soft rays of light that managed to creep into the room, the rising sun casting shadows on his handsome face.

Leaning down, you placed a soft kiss onto James' sharp jaw, leaving your lips on the boy's tan skin. Your lips traced up and down his jawline, before moving down to the soft spot behind his ear, sucking a small hickey onto the skin.

A soft groan came from the sleeping boy, shifting in his sheets as you moved down towards his neck, landing kisses on the skin, tracing your tongue down his throat and to his collarbone.

⚔︎.

James shifted again in his sleep, his eyelids fluttering. He hadn't had a dream this vivid in a while – of course, having the real thing trumped the dreams, rendering them nearly non-existent.

But the chaser wasn't complaining, of course.

You moved a hand down into his pants, grabbing his crotch softly while you sucked a hickey into his collarbone. Leaning back to admire your handiwork, you pulled his pants down to reveal his boxers, a semi forming to pull the material taut against his body.

Licking a long strip down the middle of his chest, your head hovered over James' crotch, ghosting your hot breath over his member to press a kiss on it.

Sitting up, you unbuttoned your shirt, throwing it aside before moving to kneel between the boy's legs, bending down to lick down his clothed shaft slowly.

"Fuck, Y/N."

James muttered in his sleep, making you wonder for a moment what the boy was dreaming of.

Was it this?

Your fingers hooked into his waistband, pulling them down to reveal his semi-hard cock, a hand darting instinctively to squeeze at the base.

Your lips wrapped around the head, tongue tracing the slit as a groan rippled through the boy's body, his shaft hardening with every flick of your tongue.

James fully hard, you took as much of him into your mouth as you could, hollowing your cheeks around him.

A guttural moan was pulled from James' throat at your movement, his eyes shooting open as he realised, this isn't a dream.

"Fuck, Y/N!"

He looked down at you, only to be met by your sparkling eyes staring up at him through your lashes, shirtless and clad in red lace, his favourite thing to see you in.

You ignored his outcry, moving up and down on James' cock, one hand wrapping around the base you couldn't fit in your mouth, the other moving to caress his balls lightly, making the boy jerk his hips, his head hitting the back of your throat.

Your head was pushed down by James' hand gripping your hair, choking on his length as you were moved up and down it, James moaning with every movement.

"Oh you're so good to me baby, waking me up in the best fucking way possible."

You hummed in response, the sound sending vibrations down his shaft, adding to the growing pit in his stomach.

James' cock began twitching in your mouth, his voice growing louder as you bobbed up and down his shaft, his orgasm building further as his moans became incoherent.

"Fuck–"

Without warning, hot spurts of white shot out of James, hitting the back of your throat. You swallowed the liquid, pulling back off of him with a pop, a droplet of white rolling down your lip that you licked away seductively.

"Happy birthday Mr –"

The door burst open behind you, making you whip your head back to see who had interrupted the two of you.

"Bloody hell!"

James let out a high-pitched squeal, grabbing his blanket to cover his naked self.

"You're early!"

Sirius laughed, throwing a bunch of balloons to the ground.

"So are you!"

Remus and Peter slipped out from behind the door, giggling as you grabbed your shirt to cover yourself up, feeling a little bit awkward that your best mates were staring at you half naked.

"Well, you're clearly making good use of that plaque now aren't you, Mr Head Boy."

#mine #writing #james potter smut #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter imagine #marauders imagine #marauders smut #harry potter #harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #james potter #hp imagine #hp smut #hp angst #birthday

[starnovacreates]

Going along with the incel trend other anons started, may i request the OG incel of them all? Crusty shiggy. He seems like the type to join discord groups and just be generaly creepy with the reader there, the whole demanding pics, and openly masturbating in a call. Having the most disgusting and misogynistic views on women that he isn't ashamed of. Maybe one day he snaps because you mention meeting a guy and he isn't about to get cucked by a chad. P.s i really love your wirting style!

of course you can request him- he’s disgusting.. but i love him<3 also thx !!

tw: incel, sexual harassment

he always rubbed you the wrong way. sure, you had encountered other incels in your traveling of the internet, but he trumped them all. he was so open with his disgusting tendencies, making comments that made you extremely uncomfortable. he was open with his views on your rights as a woman. ‘your only purpose is to be a cocksleeve for men.’ ‘harassing you? its your obligation to please me.’ ‘that big mouth of yours should be silenced with my cock.’

you were traumatized when you were chatting in a call only to hear his breathing heavy and obscene noises leak into your ears. he wasn’t afraid to answer you when your terrified voice asked what he was doing. “just stroking my cock to your selfie. come on, stop being a prude, send me some more explicit material, slut.”

the worst of his online torment arose when you had mentonied to a friend that you had a thing for a guy you had met. you weren’t even sure how the news got to him, but eventually he was messaging you from a spare account (since you had blocked his main one.) ‘so you think you can just fuck another dude?’ ‘you’re a fucking whore, you belong to me, not some fucking soyboy.’ ‘i know all your friends. what about i tell them some secrets you don’t want them to know?’

you couldn’t have regretted more your previous sick realations with him. you didn’t know he had friends with the ability to hack. now you truly had an obligation to give him what he wanted.

#shigaraki x reader #incel shigaraki #shigaraki tomura

[lydias--stiles]

the smile you gave me (it’s magic)

juke | meet-cute au | tw: alcohol + annoying men in bars | written for @alexjulies as we have the same headcanons about luke

What Julie Molina was about to do was horribly unfeminist and Flynn would hate her forever, but really, it was all the man’s fault - as usual.

She rejected his advances three times now in the last hour. The bartender gave her a drink on the man’s tab and she sent it back, the man brought it himself (introduced himself as Levi) and she politely declined once more. The third time he asked her to dance and then she fled to the bathroom. Julie wasn’t the biggest partygoer, occasionally joining Flynn for happy hour - like today. Her friend was late however, due to an emergency meeting at a magazine she worked at and Julie had to endure the bar alone. Grave mistake. She should’ve just waited at a McDonalds or something; even if she’d look out of place in her cocktail dress.

im there in 15!! hang in there <3 <3

Julie groaned. Great. Fifteen more minutes in a smelly bathroom stall as women outside were drunkenly crying in front of the mirrors and babbled about their own grievances regarding men. For such a universal problem, she had hoped all men would’ve taken the hint by now.

No, she didn’t want to dance. No, she didn’t want a drink. No, she wouldn’t give her number to someone that kept pushing and coming into her personal space. Levi could fuck off. It was bad enough how he had given her a suggestive once-over like he was deciding whether he wanted brunette or blonde tonight.  

The reminder angered her, pushed her out of the stall with a scowl. Was she really going to let a dumb man (nay: boy) ruin her night before it even started? Her songwriting session with Hayley Williams had gone really well and she deserved to celebrate that! She deserved to end her day on a high note! A quick look in the mirror to assure her make-up hadn’t smudged, she marched out the bathroom back into the dimly lit bar.

Her eyes scanned the room, relieved to not catch Levi close-by. Did he give up and leave? Was he cornering another girl? Whatever. As long as he wasn’t bothering her, she’d be able to breathe and maybe forget about the altercation.

If he did bother her again, she’d use her privilege as a girl and yell at the top of her lungs that he was harassing her. Surely then security would kick him out, right?

Over by the bartop was clamour, two men pulling each other into a laughing embrace as one hauled their backpack over their shoulder as the other dropped it. Changing shifts, Julie noted, halting on the man that had arrived. Well then. The theory that bars only hired attractive people seemed to be correct, the guy straight from a CW show. Mussed up brown hair, sharp features, big eyes, cute smile. A ten out of ten.  

He shrugged his red shacket off, fully black outfit beneath and began washing off discarded glasses. His muscular arms made her throat dry up; he wasn’t attractive, he was hot.

(Oh God. Was she just as bad as Levi, gawking over a stranger? But wasn’t part of his job that girls were supposed to gawk over him? More tips and all that? Julie decided she shouldn’t feel too guilty.)

Her feet moved on their own accord towards the bar, sliding into a leather high stool and wondering what she’d order as she waited for any of the bartenders (him?) to approach her.

Luck was on her side, the new bartender pressing his hands into the counter, brows raised expectantly. “What can I get you?”

Her lips tutted, debating between a margarita and a strawberry mojito. Both were appealing and at a marginally low price. “What’s better?”, she asked. “Margarita or mojito? Honestly.”

He grinned. “Honestly?”

“Yeah.” She crossed her arms atop the counter, a brush away from his hands. “I’ve bartended before. I know you have to lie a little.”

His muscle tee shifted around as he chuckled, slivers of tattoos peeking through on his chest. Her eyes averted, hoping she was a bit more subtle than she felt, and kept them trained on the stacks of whiskey in the glass rack.

His fingers drummed on the wood. “The mojito, then.” Leaning in as if imparting a secret, he added: “We’ve been buying the cheaper tequila. Gotta pay those bills.”

Satisfied at his reply, she gave him a pleased nod. “Okay. A mojito, please.”

He pushed himself off with a click of the tongue, as if he auctioned her something, and turned to grab the ingredients. As he poured the rum into a tall glass, he fell into casual conversation she was all too familiar with.

“You here alone?”

“Waiting on a friend.” Eager to distract herself from the reason why she waiting, and what caused her to wait in a fucking bathroom, she asked: “What’s the tattoo?”

The bartender paused for a beat, as if momentarily forgetting he was inked up, and then tugged his shirt out the way to showcase more skin. Had she not been so curious, she’d focus on the fact that he was defined as hell. The tattoo was a detailed sun with an ocean wave drawn inside. More uncovered: a play and pause button, ‘now or never’, a stick and poke tattoo of a lightning bolt. It was as if she herself doodled onto her skin and then left it there, but it somehow worked. It was personal. Maybe she was also a bit intrigued since he seemed especially interested by music. Granted, it was LA. Everyone was some type of artist with varying degrees of success. Still - she was curious.

“They’re cool,” she complimented, him going back to making her drink with an appreciative grin.

“Thanks.”

“Was the lightning bolt a drunk decision?”, she teased. The only instance someone got a stick and poke tattoo was when they felt chaotic or impulsive.

His grin widened, throwing crushed ice in the glass. “That obvious? Yeah, me and my boys all got one. This whole idea of-” He waved his hands around, trying to find the right words. “-bonding us together for life, I guess.”

Warmth thudded in her chest at his story, endeared by the way his voice became lighter when he talked about his friends. They must be like brothers to him.

As he placed the completed drink in front of her, she contemplated her answer. She’d rather keep talking to him than wait for Flynn in silence. “That’s nice. Having friends like that, it’s special.” Twisting her wrist, she showed her own tattoo. “I got this one when I turned eighteen.”      

They were two, small butterflies dancing on the inside of her forearm. When her mother passed away, she always knew she’d get something to commemorate her. Doodles of butterflies marked her skin in high school, finally becoming permanent when she was allowed to. Knowing everyone inevitably asked about the why, she continued talking.  

“It’s, you know, it’s about metamorphosis and beauty and transcendence and I just-” She caught herself before blabbing her sob story to a stranger. With a chuckle, she muttered: “It’s a reminder that change is good.”

When Julie looked up at him, she was struck by the wonder on his face. He didn’t look as confident as he did before, probably taken aback by her sudden spiritual spiel about butterflies - or by her, in general. The thought let a quiet thrill course through her.  

He snapped out of it, a smirk falling on his lips as his nail chimed against the glass. “It’s on me.”

“Is that a move?” Her head tilted, amused.

“You want me to lie or be honest?” The man leaned across the counter again, much closer this time. “Cool tattoo, by the way.”

She laughed, biting back a silly grin from blooming. This was his job, she reminded herself. Act all cute and get her to buy more drinks so that eventually, her tab would be enormous. It was like winning once at a game of poker and then becoming cocky.

Coy, she ripped her gaze from his and sipped on her drink. She’d let him simmer for a bit.

That was when it happened. Her unfeminist deed that would make Gloria Steinem shudder. Levi, the devil reincarnated, shot her a smug look from the other side of the bar. Swerving past people to the beat of the music, he tried approaching her again.

Julie groaned behind her glass, her good mood instantly shattered once more. Why couldn’t this idiot take a fucking hint?!

“Damn,” bartender mused, “I thought my mojito skills were good.”

The brash words tumbled out at a rapid pace, her need for a solution trumping her pride. “There’s a guy coming onto me right now and you need to help me ward him off. Please.”

He grimaced. “Yeesh. Ex-boyfriend?”

“Worse,” she bit. “A fool.”

A stressed smile pinned itself on her cheeks as Levi sidled beside her, one arm bracketing her left. Her back tensed as she shot a quick, pleading look at the bartender. He zeroed in on Levi, mouth curled downwards.    

“There you are,” Levi grinned. “Thought you left.”

Julie didn’t entertain him anymore. “I’ve told you. I’m not interested.”

He dismissed her. “I see you got yourself a drink? What is it?”

“I’m not interested,” she snapped, eyes flickering once more to the bartender. Was he really not going to help her?

It spurred him into action, his arm reaching over to create a barrier between Levi and her. “Dude, you heard her. Back off.”

Levi snarled. “Can you not? This is between me and her.”

“No, actually,” he exclaimed, blunt. “I’m her boyfriend.”

Her vigilance got her acting swiftly, shifting her expression into a believable nod and placing a hand on his outstretched arm.  

“He is?” Levi was gobsmacked, a hint of anger lacing his voice.

“Yeah,” Julie bit, silently thanking him when he played along and enveloped her hand with his. Her final strike spit his venom right back in his face. “So can you just leave us alone?”

The man rolled his eyes with a scoff, kicking one of the stools and mumbling a string of curses. “Bullshit…”

When he was out of sight again, having stormed off like a petulant child to a shadowy corner, Julie let out breath of relief. “Finally!” Shooting the bartender a bright smile, she kept babbling. “You have no idea how annoying that is. And smart idea - the boyfriend card always works!”

He squeezed her hand, worried. “You sure you’re okay? That was fucked up.”

“Yeah…” She trailed off, the soft touch reminding her of his words from before. Squeezing back, she watched as the pinch between his brows vanished. “I’m okay.”

They kept their stare for a beat, the revolving pop music and excited chatter merely background noise. Neither have let go of their hold on each other. She didn’t want to either; his hand was warm and gentle and a calloused thumb absentmindedly caressed her skin. Levi should learn from this.

Sometimes, a connection just happened.

He let go first, collecting himself into a casual stance that was far more amusing than it should be. Ducking beneath the bar and grabbing a beer, he tapped it against her glass with a cocky nod. “My name’s Luke.”

Julie matched his expression. Luke. Luke, the bartender. It fit him perfectly. “I’m Julie. Are you supposed to be drinking on the clock?”

“I work in a bar,” Luke deadpanned. “It’s expected. And I’m sure Jack can handle it.”

“Why would he have to serve alone?” she inquired teasingly, eyes glimmering with challenge. If there was one thing she loved, it was getting the upper hand in a fun game of flirting.  

He lifted his bottle with a wink. “I’m drinking with you.” A pause, his gaze matching her intensity. Damn. He was a good opponent. “Unless you want me to go?”

She shook her head, took a sip from the mojito and wiggled her brows. “Cheers to warding off annoying men, fake boyfriend.”

“I better get some good karma from this,” he joked. “Cheers!”

(Later that night, she’d realise Flynn never came by. When she asked what happened, Flynn told her she had walked in and saw Julie completely wrapped up in a conversation ‘with that cute bartender’ and left. The joyous announcement that Julie got his number made her friend screech over the phone.

Julie went back to the bar many times. Drinking and talking bled until deep in the night, once till closing time and then he walked her to her apartment. He didn’t resist when she kissed him, his lips kissing back with hunger.

It didn’t take long for the ‘fake’ to be scrapped from that label.)  

🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸

@blush-and-books @willexx @bluefirewrites @ourstarscollided

#as an apology for last night's angst #here's something lighter lmao #juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better

[seijohsbabe]

Mission tame

Tw: smut, degradation, nicknames, swear words,dubcon

Genre: Enemies to ,,lovers“, Mafia AU

Wordcount: 2,3k

So here you are, back in a big mission, which your boss chose for you. It is important and has high standards. But your years of experience, especially with this group, trumped everything. The group in question was called Seijoh. They were very well known in the underworld. Dangerous and a lot of influence on everything. And at the head of the group is the all too feared Oikawa Tooru. But after all these years he no longer scared you, far too often you saw how cowardly he was. Still, you never managed to overpower him. And today would probably not be the day either, because it should only be an exploration tour to check the current situation. Unnoticed and quietly you crept through the air ducts to get into the room you were heading for: The office of the great Oikawa Tooru. He's on a mission right now anyway, so you had enough time to sniff.

Your card in a pocket on which the system of the shaft is told you that you are not far from your destination. And actually, when you looked down you saw the familiar red carpet floor of the office. You gave a short radio contact to your colleagues that you had arrived. Quickly dismantled the grille you were already in the room, and it was tidy as always, and as expected nobody was in sight. Careful not to leave any traces, you rummaged through the drawers of the large wooden desk to find a few documents, but that wasn't enough for you. The big bookshelves are your next destination, but in the middle of browsing, you heard loud laughter down the hallway which came closer and closer, several voices talking to each other in amusement. Your eyes widened. You quickly passed it on to your radio contact who, however, was just as perplexed as you. They should have been on the road with Seijoh at the moment. Security guards? Whatever, you should get out of here. But just as you were about to disappear into the air ducts, you were pulled back with a jerk on your foot and thumped on the floor. Three pairs of eyes stared down at you, and you recognized those damn eyes all too well. Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa‘s most familiar and best partner. Matsukawa Issei and of course Hanamaki Takahiro Oikawa‘s other closest friends. All of them had a smug grin on their face. You tried to grab your gun on your belt but Iwazumi was faster and grabbed your hands to pin you down. His face came closer, you tried your best to wiggle yourself free but he caged you with his body.

"Look who’s here, lil y/n. Nice to see you again.“ he said while he looked in your angry face. How could that happen?” Oikawa should arrive soon, I think he will be happy to see you.“ He nodded to the two others who just watched the scene. They grabbed you and put you on a chair, grabbed all your belongings. You’ve kicked and slapped but they're just too strong.

"Wowow- I didn't think you would be that wild kitten-" Matsukawa said while he got slapped by you, but he just kept going. You gave him a bad look while he tied you to the chair. Your legs and arms were now immobile, and so you were completely at the mercy. Matsukawa took advantage of this directly, by grazing up your thigh and getting closer and closer to your center, while he smirked at your face. But before you could say anything a familiar voice interrupted you.

"Oh that’s a nice present Iwa-chan! Wow thank you. You guys planed that didn’t you?“ Oikawa came in with his graze on you and a little smile.

"Well I think Matssun, Makki, Iwa-chan, you can go now. Thank you very much.“ They’ve nodded and all went out with an knowing smirk. The whole situation, you knew this is definitly not good.

"Just kill me, Shittykawa, I don’t play your shitty games.“ you spat out, with an disgusting look on your face.

„Oh really y/n? I think you have no other chance.“, he pouted. You knew it was fake. But then he simply loosened your bonds and with a jerk, you got up to first put some distance between the two of you. "Careful as always, huh?" He said with a grin that only he could manage. One that made your hairs stand on your neck. "What do you want ? I know that you want something so finally spit it out so that I can get out of here." you literally spat out. Your discomfort is big, because no matter how long you have known Oikawa, he was unpredictable to this day. Every step he took came without warning. With big steps he came to you, but you stepped back until the hard wall hit your back. Without thinking too much you stepped aside but his arms caged you in front of him so that he could now look down at you. He was just wearing a perfectly fitting black suit. It annoyed you to came into this situation despite your caution. It made you angry. He came nearer and pinned you against the wall now.

,,So, what should I do with you now?“ he said while he grabbed your chin with his fingers to let you look up. Your looked up with an disgusting gaze. You shouldn’t let him bring you down, not yet. But your breathing gets heavier and your cheeks flushed, from all the excitement. He just looked... calm and composed, even amused. But you knew that’s his facade.

"You have no idea what i want to to with you right now.“ you’ve pushed his strong chest, but he didn’t even moved an inch. You’ve tried everything, you even spat, but that spurred him on even more.

And then his head dipped down to press his lips against your neck.

"But you will see what I wanna do.“ he mumured against your skin, lips moving against your skin, and the sigh which left your lips was anything but angry now.

In the back of your mind you know exactly how wrong that was, but his soft lips which went deeper and deeper, and worked your skin by every centimeter, silenced the little voice in your head. Your hands ran through his soft, chocolate-brown locks. He was getting faster and faster and without noticing it he took off your top. Stop, what are you doing here? As if struck by lightning, you pushed him away, this time with success because he was unable to concentrate. He stumbled back a few meters until he grinned at himself again, "Oh bunny, come on, I know you want it." With eagle eyes you watched his fingers slowly taking off his suit and shirt button by button, until you could see his perfect torso. He had scars here and there, some large, some small, many probably from his battles as the boss of a large group of the underworld. He was suddenly in front of you again, this time pressing your lips hard against his. His tongue demanded entry which you refused him at first, but when he held you on your thighs to lift you up and press you against the wall, you could not suppress a little scream. So he had given himself entrance. Your tongues fought for dominance, nobody wanted to lose. Your hands now literally clawed his hair, which made him moan. When you had to stop to take a breath, you murmured against his lips. "Just fuck me already you bastard." His grin grew. You knew it was the wrong step, you gave him exactly the thing he wanted, and he always got what he wanted. But you couldn't suppress that demand, regardless of whether it was an enemy or a friend, as long as it helps you, you should be fine. "Oh dear, I won't have to be told twice." He carried you to his desk to let you fall on it. The things that were on there were pushed down. Faster than you could see, your pants were on the floor like your underwear. He got down on his knees while looking into your face. His face now at eye level with your center, he looked up at you again. But you just rolled your eyes, pressed your legs around his head to bring him closer. Your hands supported you behind you, but you didn't know how long, because feeling his tongue between your slit made you tremble. His tongue got faster and faster and you came closer and closer to the climax. ,, I-I‘m .. “

"What it is? Use your words bunny." He said against your cunt. "Keep going you asshole, I'm c-ah" you couldn't even finish the sentence when his lips sucked on your clitoris. Your climax came hard and fast. Your moans would be heard 5 rooms away, but this climax was just as good as riding a wave.

You just hated him even more because no one had ever gotten such an orgasm out of you. Even now after that, your legs were shaking and everything was tingling. Oikawa's chin full of your arousal, got up on his legs again, and slowly and with relish took off his pants, but you can’t wait, so you fell over him to clap his hands away, which he put without comment in the air, as you opened his buttons with trembling hands. You tugged the pants and boxers with ease down and his cock just sprung out. It wasn’t that big, but a nice shape.

You sank to the ground without comment, which of course he had to comment again. "You probably already know what to do y/n, you see it isn't that bad, isn't it?" But his grin didn't last long, because in one go you took his cock up to the stop in your mouth. This finally wipes his dirty grin off his mouth, replacing it with a groan. Music for your ears to finally have him in your clutches. Your hands played with his balls as your rhythm got faster and faster. His moans, the knees trembling, his eyes closed and head tucked back while his hands gently entangled in your hair, made you humming around his cock. You felt how near he must be, but his hand in your hair pulled you back.

Now you were the one who smiled in his face. ,,Well well Oikawa, king of the underground, so easy to get you a trembling mess huh?“ Oh, how miserable he looked, his gaze was down on your figure, and his breathe was fast. The sweat rolled down from his forehead. "Don’t celebrate so early darling.“

Without predicting it, he pulled you up and slammed you repeatedly on his table to bring his face very close to your ear. His hot breath brushed your ear and made you shiver. "My lil bunny, you just screamed the whole building together, at least I could pull myself together, let's see how long you can hold out this time." And with that, he sank into you in one go while he bit your earlobe. Your eyes widened and your mouth hung open, but no sound came out, too overwhelmed by the feeling of being suddenly filled was too much for your senses. His length hit exactly that one point that makes you roll your eyes every time. Having overcome the shock, you now looked him in the eye. He stared at you, practically studying your face, but he didn't move. "Just move god damn." You said with an impatient tone. And with a jerk, your back landed on the desk, and his hips moved with a steady and rapid speed. You had the feeling he was getting faster and faster, while you were looking for something to hold on to and found his back. Your hands dug into his back, sure to leave marks. He groaned but kept his pace. The clap of your skin on each other echoed through the whole room. You couldn't take it much longer, because it kept banging against your point. Loud animalistic moans escaped you as you got closer. These were quickly caught when his mouth pressed against yours again and practically sucked you out. Your hands brushed up his back to bury themselves in his hair again. He let go from your mouth to let out small moans between his thrusts. "Your m-mine y/n" His pace was getting sloppier, he was getting close. "You wish bastard." And with that, his final snap he sends you over the edge. You only saw stars, heile your walls clamped around him, sucked him in. Your whole body trembled as he painted your insides white. The body parts from you now hung lazily next to you while he was still inside you, looking down at you, and his upper body paced up and down quickly. Its length slowly slid out and let you whimper briefly through the sudden emptiness. Your wobbly arms tried to lift you up but your lack of strength did not allow it. So you stayed there until his hand pried you open from behind. Without a word, he handed you his black shirt. With a raised eyebrow you took it from him to put it on. Slowly your strength came back to slowly get up and look for your underwear, which you quickly found and put on.

"Well it wasn't that bad, but I guess I have to-" When you were about to turn around, he stood in front of you and pressed you into the wall, your hands got pressed together over your head with one hand from him. His pants were already on again. "When I said you were mine, I meant it" and with that, the door opened and Iwaizumi came in. "Bring her to the guest room, make sure she has it comfy. He just nodded, took you, hands behind your back with, down the aisle, while he grabbed your ass, still on display under the light shirt of Oikawa.

#Oikawa #Oikawa smut #Oikawa tooru #Oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #enemys to lovers #Oikawa Enemy #Seijoh #aoba johsai #haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #anime #haikyuu scenarios #sports anime

[avewritesmr]

hello hello, may i request prompt 37 (“is this some kind of joke?”) with jeonghan (seventeen) but,,, make it Angst?

Prompt: “Is this some kind of joke?”

Word Count: 1804 words

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Male!Reader

Group: Seventeen

Genre: Angst

TW: there is mild cursing but nothing explicit

A/N: Sorry this took a while anonie, I am really happy to get back to writing though, if you want I might do a part 2 to this, hated leaving my baby so hurt in the end 💖

Jeonghan was scrolling through his camera role looking for a photo he had taken earlier of Joshua, he had complete control of the groups twitter that day and he was planning to use it to his full advantage in order to expose all his members.

His playful grin faded into a soft one when he found the picture he had been looking for right next to a picture of y/n pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He had yet to call y/n today and now that he saw the picture he wanted nothing more than to dial his boyfriends number and hear his voice.

Quickly selecting the picture with Joshua he clicks the tweet button without giving the action much second thought.

He waits a couple seconds before he reloads the app to see his tweet and his stomach drops, eyes widening.

That is the wrong photo, as quickly as his shaky fingers can move he works to delete the tweet, when he has it deleted he lets out a sigh of relief.

The dread is still ever present in his heart and his heart is still beating like he just ran a marathon, but that photo was not up for more than a minute and Jeonghan is going to pray that whoever saw it did not take a screenshot or save it.

His hands are shaking as he slides down on his bed, he squeezes his fingers tightly to try and stop the shaking, taking deep breaths to calm his heart beat.

Should he tell y/n? or a manager? maybe Seungcheol? Should he tell anyone at all?

It is almost as if God hears his questions and sends a reply because Seungcheol chooses this moment to walk into his room.

Seungcheol is about to say something but Jeonghan talks first, “I made a mistake.”

“Okay?” Seungcheol is looking at him in concern.

“I was going to post this silly picture of Joshua but I accidentally posted a picture with y/n and I deleted it in less than a minute but people must have already seen it.” Jeonghan feels the words tumble past his lips and his hands are shaking more than they were before, fingers cold and cramped.

He watches Seungcheol’s face change from concerned to shocked to slightly angry to concerned again.

“It is okay, you deleted it, so we just have to hope no one is going to re-post it right?”

Jeonghan hadn’t been expecting that response, in the few seconds of silence that passed he had expected Seungcheol to grab him and throw him out of the dorm telling him to leave the group as irrational as the thought was.

“What if they do?” Jeonghan asks, he feels nauseas and a little faint and the thought that he shouldn’t be this scared of people knowing he is in a relationship crosses his mind.

“We deal with it when it happens, right now I am gonna go talk to manager and you’ll go over to y/n’s dorm and give him a warning.” Seunghceol shoots him a reassuring smile but Jeonghan is anything but reassured.

Minutes ago he had been excited to call y/n, ease some of the stress the other was feeling from all the promotions he was doing for his album, but now just the idea of going to see the other makes Jeonghan wish the fan hanging from his ceiling would fall down and strike him dead.

Seungcheol can se the fear in his eyes and he moves forward to hug him, “It’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, there are worse things in the world than a boy who likes to kiss other boys.”

Jeonghan nods, he can’t agree more, but he worries that the general public doesn’t agree, he doesn’t know if the company agrees, and he doesn’t know if his career is standing on its last leg.

“I am sorry, all of you guys will get hurt by this.” The guilt trumps all emotions in that statement, the thought of his career coming to an end isn’t as scary as the thought that he might be dooming his friends careers as well. It isn’t fair.

“You don’t have to be, just go to y/n talk with him about it, I’ll work thigns out with management don’t worry.” Jeonghan nods hugging Seungcheol one more time before he grabs his coat and a face mask, he shoves his phone into his pocket unceremoniously, hell just go to y/n’s apartment, and try and figure out what to say on his way there.

He gets there too soon, the trip that usually feels like it drags on for way too long today feels like it finishes too quickly today despite Jeonghan making an effort to walk slower than he usually does.

He hesitates with his fingers hovering over the keypad  before he decides to knock instead, his hands are sweaty and shaking, his stomach is knotted and uncomfortable, and his heart is beating so fast it is almost painful. He shakes his head in hopes of clearing it and forming some form of coherent sentence in his head.

y/n opens the door with a smile on his face, he is wearing a pair of jeans and a hoodie, he must have been getting ready to head out.

“Jeonghan? Why didn’t you just let yourself in?” y/n’s smile fades a little when he sees Jeonghan’s hunched figure, “Is something wrong?”

“I made a mistake, I am sorry.” The words leave Jeonghan’s mouth before he can think them through.

y/n’s eyebrows furrow and he moves aside beckoning Jeonghan into the apartment.

“Come in, take of your jacket and get comfortable then you can tell me.”

y/n closes the door and leans against it watching Jeonghan slip of his shoes and face mask, he doesn’t take off his jacket because his entire body feels like its been dipped in ice cold water.

“What’s wrong?” y/n asks the question again guiding Jeonghan into the living room.

Jeonghan shakes his hands lightly and swallows a lump in his throat trying to decide how to approach the situation, he can skip around it a little or get right to the point.

He surveys the room they’re in and judging by the packed backpack and clothes y/n is wearing there isn’t much time to waffle around so he gets right to the point.

“I acciedntly posted a photo of us together, while trying to post a picture of Joshua.” opposed to the last time when he told Jeonghan the words don’t come asily this time the come out as a forced breath and they make the air in the room feel like it has gotten so much colder.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he flinches at y/n’s harsh tone and looks up at him wide eyed, “If it’s a joke it isn’t very funny.”

Jeonghan shakes his head taking a step towards y/n, “It isn’t a joke, it was an accident and I took it down really quickly, and I came to tell you because I was scared if someone saved it they would start spreading it around.”

y/n scoffs, “An accident? Jeonghan you are probably going to end both of our careers, that isn’t a fucking accident.”

Jeonghan looks up at y/n with tears in his eyes, “I know, I know, but it really was an accident, you’re talking as if I did it on purpose but I didn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter if it was an accident or not, it was stupid, you should have been more careful.” y/n is glaring at him so intensely Jeonghan feels like there is laser coming out of the others eye and burning a hole into his head.

“But I took it down and nothing seems to have reappeared about it yet, maybe no one saw it, or they didn’t recognize you, please don’t be angry.” Jeonghan can feel the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over.

y/n just sighs rubbing at his forehead, “I don’t have time for this, I have to go for a radio show right now, so lets hope nothing pops up online.” He turns to look at Jeonghan his eyes still cold.

“We’ll figure this out later, you can wait here if you want.” y/n walks past Jeonghan and grabs his bag, slipping on his shoes, Jeonghan stands in his place and watches the older leave without so much as a second glance his way.

When he hears the front door close he lets go of his tears and sobs silently into his hands, worse than losing his career he might lose his boyfriend over this mistake, he thinks again that it isn’t fair, he shouldn’t have to be so scared about having a boyfriend.

When he feels like he has no more tears to cry he slips of his coat and deposits it on the coach moving to y/n’s room, he grabs on of the others hoodies and slips it over his head snuggling into the smell.

He curls up on the couch and prays that when y/n gets back he’ll be less angry and more understanding about the situation.

#svt #seventeen #yoon jeonghna #seventeen x reader #seventeen x male reader #male reader #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #jeonghan x male reader #male reader fic #kpop angst #seventeen x reader angst #svt yoon jeonghan #male reader insert

[arsonistblue]

Alright, fuckers. Listen up.

(TW politics, swearing, caps, and the State Of Things)

Alright, starting off: we all know the voting system is fucked up, right? Well apparently it's even more fucked than we thought. 

In a democracy, everyone has a voice, everyone has an equal vote to elect one leader for a term. That is the literal definition of democracy. Everyone's vote should be equal. 

California is a majority Democrat state, correct? And Wyoming is majority Republican. Well, theoretically, no matter what state you are in, you would have an equal vote going to the electoral college. But that's not the case. 

If you live in California, say your vote counts for one. The same person in Wyoming, a Republican state, counts for fifty-fucking-seven. Let me put this in perspective. 57 CALIFORNIANS WOULD HAVE TO VOTE TO EQUAL ONE WYOMINGITE. And that's just the start. 

So when someone says that the electoral college is a good system to make voting easier and more fair, NO IT FUCKING ISN'T.

ALSO. AL-FUCKING-SO. 

If a country has so many incarcerated people that allowing them to vote could sway an election, maybe, just maybe, there might be too many incarcerated people. 

Because the incarcerated are not allowed to vote, the government therefore has a HUGE INCENTIVE to imprison the people who oppose the current government, AKA A FASCIST MILITARY GOVERNMENT ADVOCATING TO TAKE AWAY THE RIGHTS OF MARGINALIZED GROUPS. 

That's why there are so many wrongfully imprisoned or nonviolent black, Latinx, or queer people in prisons around the country. 

AND THAT'S JUST THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG. 

Did you know that approximately 2/3 federal prisons are LEGALLY REQUIRED to be at a certain capacity? Let me say that again. AT LEAST 2/3 OF FEDERAL PRISONS ARE REQUIRED TO LOCK ENOUGH PEOPLE UP. THAT'S YET ANOTHER INCENTIVE TO IMPRISON PEOPLE WITH DIFFERENT BELIEFS THAN THE GOVERNMENT. Voters who would vote against the fascists advocating for the death and limited rights and healthcare of minorities are being imprisoned to stop them from voting. 

It's also a huge reason why so many peaceful protestors, typically poc and/or LGBTQ+, are being thrown in cells. So they can keep getting funding to incarcerate more people who actually give two flying fucks about human rights. 

There are MILLIONS of people being incarcerated for (NON VIOLENTLY) opposing the fascist government advocating to take away healthcare and basic rights from marginalized groups. It's all a fascist, capitalistic ploy to get more money, keep dictators in charge, take away the rights of marginalized groups and minorities, and keep the rich, white, cishet men in charge. 

If that's not fucked up, I don't know what is.

Do I even need to mention COVID? Apparently I do. 

The government actively ignored a raging, deadly virus. They have literally admitted to it. Hundreds, probably thousands of doctors have criticized how they handled it. It almost makes me think that maybe, in a pandemic, you should fucking listen to scientists and doctors, rather than rich white men who only care about money. 

The way that the current government has handled COVID is atrocious. If you think we couldn’t have done better, I hope that goddamn rock you live under has air conditioning. 

I am so done. 

I don’t care if you don’t like Biden. I don’t love him either. But would you rather the president be an old man who stumbles his words, but actually gives a fuck about the people, and not just money? Or would you rather the president be another old man who stumbles his words, but is a literal fascist with detention camps, only cares about money and white power, who refused to condemn white supremacy, and has on multiple occasions signed and agreed with policies that would take away the rights of marginalized people?

IF YOU DO NOT VOTE, I HAVE NO RESPECT FOR YOU.

SILENCE IS COMPLIANCE.

IF YOU ARE SILENT, YOU COMPLY WITH WHAT TRUMP IS DOING TO THIS COUNTRY, AND TO THE WORLD. 

IF YOU ARE SILENT, YOU ARE SAYING THAT YOU DON’T WANT TO CHANGE WHAT HE DOES. YOU ARE SAYING YOU DON’T CARE ENOUGH TO TRY AND SHUT DOWN DETENTION CENTERS, GIVE PEOPLE BASIC RIGHTS, AND KEEP MILLIONS OF PEOPLE FROM HAVING TO FEAR FOR THEIR LIVES.

If you do not try to vote Trump out, that is what you are saying. You are saying that you want the person in office to be a man who will advocate for the death and imprisonment of minorities. 

If you are a Trump supporter, get your conceited head out of your ass and think of someone else for once in your goddamn life. 

I dare you to try and argue with me. I have sources, a fuck-ton of research, and even more pent-up rage. 

#tw caps #tw swearing #tw politics #tw anger #tw trump #tw covid #tw detention centers #tw #ask to tag #tw vent #tw rant #debate #politics #us politics #Blue rambles #serious post #blm #bidenharris2020 #biden/harris 2020 #biden #joe biden #trump #donald trump

[bangchanstudio]

my roommate is a ghost | han jisung (ch. 2)

pairing: han jisung x reader (fem)

genre: college;au, parallel universe??

tw: mild nudity, mild talk of death, ghosts, cursing

word count: 1,360

writer’s note: so i guess i was a little more inspired lol 2 chapters in one night! sorry if it’s still a little bland, its hard to get the bases down lol please let me know if you like it!

plot: you had a bad habit of seeing ghosts. sometimes they were scary, sometimes they were rude, but hardly were they ever cute. one day as you were getting ready for class you walked in on your roommate showering… except you didn’t have a roommate. and he wasn’t exactly a ghost. (loosely inspired by the webtoon Freaking Romance by Snailords)

[10:55pm]

ghost han jisung was sitting cross legged in the middle of your small couch while you paced back and forth nibbling on your thumb. this can’t be right, you insisted in your head mumbling mindlessly the thoughts running through your skull. if he was a ghost why didn’t he disappear when you slapped him? he didn’t even disappear the second time you slapped him when aelin left for hana’s either.. you stopped abruptly turning to face ghost han jisung, the sudden movement making his eyes go slightly wide as he flinched back. safe to say he wouldn’t be messing with you, though you did feel bad for slapping him... twice.

“how old are you?”

jisung tilted his head curiously before responding, “19, you?”

“19″ you mumbled before going back to pacing. “so, just to be clear, you’re not dead?”

“how many times are you going to ask me that? I am not dead. I’m sure i would have remembered such a traumatic life event”

you waved a hand dismissively, “you say that but explain how you disappeared this morning? I was waiting for you to come out of the bathroom but you never did. and when i went to go check on you, you were gone. just- vanished into thin air. like a ghost.”

“I don’t know how to explain it either. I woke up at 6:15am, got in the shower, washed my hair, scrubbed my body, brushed my teeth and that’s when you so rudely walked in on me. i never left my dorm.” he crossed his arms, his biceps distracting you a bit. pull yourself together, you can’t crush on a ghost, that’s all kinds of weird.

“okay, so let’s say you’re not dead. what year is it?” there has to be some logical explanation to all of this.

“2020″ jisung answered, “this is columbia university, weather today was partly cloudy 87 degrees, a small earthquake hit cali last week, lunch in the main cafe today was chicken pasta and ceasar salad,”

everything sounded right until he said, “President Clinton spoke today at-”

“Trump, you mean?” you clarified stopping dead in your tracks.

“No... Hillary Clinton.” both of you stared waiting for the other to say sike, but neither of you broke. you moved around the small coffee table sitting on it and leaning to face jisung eye to eye, the closeness making him flatten his back into the couch.

“who is the 45th president of the united states?”

“hil-hillary clinton,” jisung stuttered blinking as if to see you more clearly. “the first female president.”

“no...” you said quietly, “donald trump is president. the first cheeto.”

jisung bursted out laughing, “did you just call donald trump a cheeto? no, he lost the race. what are you even saying?”

“I’m dead serious!” you insisted, quickly pulling up trump’s wikipidea page on your phone before showing him. jisung looked at the phone screen intently reading it before pulling out his own phone and showing you his screen.

It was a news article with the exact same date as today,

tuesday, august 18, 2020 president clinton addresses the rumors of...

“there’s no way...” you trail off. a thought suddenly occurred to you. “can i use your phone?”

jisung handed it to you and you quickly went to dial your phone number from his phone, you placed the phone to your ear hearing it ring but your phone sat idle on your lap, the screen black.

“hello?” you hung up immediately as a deep male voice answered. definitely not you.

“Here,” you said shoving your phone into jisung’s hand, “call your phone.”

“why? if you want my number you could just say so.” he said wiggling his eyebrows.

“no you dummy, i just called my phone number from yours and someone else answered.”

he nodded and dialed his number placing the call on speaker. it rung for 20 seconds before going into, “you have reached the voicemail box of Doctor Sarah Ledwi-”

jisung ended the call before saying, “so, what exactly is this suppose to mean?”

what was this suppose to mean?

[6:30am]

the blaring alarm of your phone woke you up cutting through the dark fog of whatever dreamless sleep you were in. the room was dark but someone left the bathroom light on last night and by someone it was probably jisung. you hadn’t figured much out, the only things you two were able to gather through google searches and quizzing each other was that you seemed to live in different realities. you both were alive, just not in the same dimension. jisung admitted to seeing you in his bedroom mirror during move in day last week but it was only for a second, so he chalked it up to a trick of the eyes and a hang over. but that was the first day you were seeing him. eventually jisung got up to use the bathroom and never came back, that was around 4am.

luckily for you today was your late day, lecture wasn’t until 9am, though you set your alarm early to try and have some type of decent schedule or a routine but you couldn’t help giving into sleep just a little while longer.

a little while longer ended up costing you both of your lectures as you forgot to set another alarm to wake you up, instead you were awaken by a pounding at the door.

“what the hell?” you grumbled covering one eye with your hand and squinting with the other. you tapped around the night stand looking for your glasses but the insistent pounding made you get up blindly just to shut up whoever was at the door.

“who the hell are you?” you answered, not recognizing the prick at the door. he wasn’t much taller than you, sporting black on black and a baseball cap.

“oh sorry, i didn’t realize jisung had a girl over.” he said with an australian accent. “could you let him know i finished the beat we were working on?”

wait a second... did he say jisung? no, this can’t be happening.

“who’s the 45th president of the united states?” you asked,

the guy looked at you as if you were crazy, before chuckling, “uh- hillary clinton?”

you groaned telling him you’d let jisung know before closing the door and looking at your surroundings. this definitely wasn’t your room. there was take out left on the coffee table, men’s clothes laying in the bathroom floor. there was a clock by the tv that read 12:32pm and on the desk by the window was a calendar. it had, what you assumed, was jisung’s schedule.

“lecture 1: 9:30am-10:45am, lecture 2: 11:00am-12:15pm.. he should be back soon then,” you mumbled to yourself talking a look at the other things on his desk. a midi keyboard, studio monitors, a recording microphone. was this guy some kind of soundcloud rapper or what?

since you missed your morning lectures, you were free until the afternoon your last lecture of the day being 7pm. but... how exactly were you suppose to get back? jisung doesn’t even know how he was able to go back and forth twice. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror realizing you were still only in a towel from last night. the both of you had been so caught up in the mystery of what was happening that it never occurred to you to put some clothes on, and fuck that’s how you answered the door just now.

*beep, beep, beep, beep, click*

you turned as jisung walked in with another guy trailing behind him. they were laughing about something but jisung gasped as he saw you standing there... in a towel.

“Sorry mate, but you can’t come in I- uh,” Jisung fumbled for an excuse as he shoved his friend out the door.

“Ohh, you didn’t tell me you had a girl over, now i know who caused those bags under your ey-” he shut the door on him mid sentence before turning back to you and running his hand through his hair.

you pulled at a black supreme tshirt he had in his closet, “mind if I borrow this?”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids scenarios #han #jisung #han x reader #jisung x reader #han scenarios #jisung scenarios #han imagines #jisung imagines #myfic #hjs #mriag #mriag2 #han jisung #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader

[lotusofhope]

tw election; tw racism over 30% of white people you see in the streets voted for Trump (over 50% of voters). Idk if other white people can imagine what that’s like. I can only barely begin to grasp it using my context as a trans person, but it’s not the same. When was the last time you were the only white person in a room? Has that ever happened?  It happens every fucking day for BIPOC. Well, save for our new covid hellworld where maybe they don’t go out every day. 30% of people in that room, give or take given on state, voted for your oppression. Something like 45% didn’t vote against it, and while many of those may have valid reasons for that, others don’t. And you don’t know who is who. This is of course using the framework that a vote for Biden is a vote against racism, which is laughably false; while it may be intended that way for many Americans, it falls short of that in many ways.  30% of people in a room trample on your rights. More probably don’t care, and surely don’t understand your issues. Imagine that. Every day. Anyways, take this time to check your following list. How many are white? How many are Non-Black? How many times do you hear Black people talk about their issues, or how many times is it a white person like me talking about them with no context of my own? Use this time to diversify your following. If you aren’t following Black voices, then the only voices you hear about Black issues are ignorant white peoples’ and the Black posts ignorant white people decide is worth reblogging. I’m new to this site so I can’t give too many recommendations, but so far I’ve really enjoyed @gem-femme and @afronerdism .  But please don’t just take my white voice as anything but an express plea to diversify your blog.  oh btw; i don’t care if you reblog it (I would appreciate likes), but if you’re white and you feel like a lot of your white followers fall into this issue (so many do) then go ahead and reblog. The only reason I am using my voice this way is because I feel like Black voices aren’t amplified to the same places; rather than taking the time to reblog me, your effort would be more effective if you just found more Black people to follow.

#tw racism #.tw election #us politics #politics #racism #black lives matter #all numbers are incredibly guestimated other than more than 50% of white votes went to Trump