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#drabbles
ikinremu · 2 days
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more harry content please. that is all i ask.
Hi anon!! I’ve been meaning to work on some more Harry content, and this really motivated me so thank you!!! Hope you enjoy :)
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Distraction
Harry Potter x Fem!Reader
! Smut Warning !
Tags: P in V, Praise, Unprotected Sex
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Your tightly balled up fist propped your head up, forcing your gaze down at the text before you - not that you were absorbing any of the information. Truthfully, you didn't particularly mind studying when it came to certain subjects, though you were growing tired of spending your evenings begrudgingly hunched over your desk.
"Harry?" You sighed heavily, peering at the, rather sizeable, book you'd slammed down on the desk just over an hour ago, "Can you help me?"
"Sure, sweetheart." Your boyfriend mumbled from this rest upon the bed not far behind you, rustling the sheets a little as he took a stance. Suddenly, the large familiarity of his hands found your shoulders, thumb gently sweeping back and forth over your jumper. Tension unwound, your body soothed by his light touch.
"I'm so bored." A weighty exhale escaped your lips as you turned to stare up at him, desperation gleaming through your eyes.
Harry offered your shoulders a kind, soft squeeze, "I know. You've been sat here for an hour and you've hardly turned any pages."
Despite your self-awareness, you scoffed, eyes flitting to the dusty book cover as Harry suddenly flung the novel shut. You shot him a puzzled glance - although you couldn't deny the relief of a possible break.
"You're not concentrating." His lips tugged up, supporting a playful smirk, "Come on, it'll help if you have a distraction for a bit."
A sultry cloud of his breath grazed your neck, as a tempting kiss pressed to the angle of your jaw.  Your cheeks swarmed with a sudden heat, breath caught in your throat, "Harry.."
"Hm?" He mumbled, quietly satisfied as he observed your failure to follow through with whatever was to leave your lips.
Quickly, he discarded the clutter atop your desk, callous palm patting at the surface as his mouth left the crook of your neck, "On the desk."
Unable to deny what was before you, you hopped upon the - now uncluttered - table, perching yourself right at the edge.
Harry parted your legs slightly, stepping between them, your skirt naturally riding up your thighs. His hungry mouth connected with your own, bringing a newfound ferocity as your tongues collided rather immediately. You flung your vacant hands to the broad of his back, fingertips pressing against the fabric of his jumper.
His low groan seeped into the kiss, and he trailed a single hand upon the small of your back, the other snaking beneath your skirt. Heat buzzed between your legs as the familiar sensation of his touch met your panties, tracing soft circles over your clit through the damp material. You whimpered faintly against his mouth, feeling his lips curve into a satisfied smirk against yours.
Harry's fingers moved quicker, causing your body to shudder as you shattered the kiss, head falling against his shoulder.
"F-fuck.." Your hushed, sultry moan vibrated against his shoulder, endlessly fuelled by the flow of his digits.
"That's it, sweetheart." He encouraged, "Let me hear those pretty noises."
His lustful words struck your arousal, spiking it rather drastically. Harry's skilful fingertips slipped easily beneath your sodden underwear, tugging them aside, cool air hitting your bare cunt.
With a gracious chuckle, he tilted your head back from its fallen rest upon his shoulder, gaze flickering to yours, “I need to feel you."
Harry made light work of his trousers, pulling them downward, freeing his hard, bare cock with a deeply relieved groan. Craving the feel of your skin, his large hands splayed over your ass, finding a tender hold under your skirt.
"Ready, angel?" He braced, aligning his tip with your drenched, achingly unfulfilled entrance.
"Mhm.." You uttered, somewhat masking your need, fingertips digging into his back, his eyes trailing over your flushed face.
Harry eased his hard, unattended length between your legs, sliding between your slick folds, pulling an airy moan from the pair of you as he filled you.
"You feel so fucking good.." He praised with a heavy exhale, lips spilling gruff groans as your tight cunt squeezed at his cock.
His naked hips bucked against yours, tip hitting deep within your soaked pussy. His callous palms caressed your behind, the warmth of his mouth capturing the skin of your neck once more.
Your walls clenched around his length, the pulses of his tip reaching your g-spot, drawing a loud whine from your lips.
"So pretty." Harry cooed, giving your hips a motivational squeeze as he abruptly picked up the pace of his thrusts. The desk wavered slightly beneath your flushed, quickening bodies.
You couldn't help but allow your head to fall back a little, both overwhelmed and thrilled by the stimulations. Harry switched a single hand to your jaw, tipping your chin back down, forced to focus your gazes to one and other, "Eyes on me."
The intense buzz of his words lingered in your abdomen, your teeth puncturing the pillow of your lower lip.
Alternating his grasp from the tip of your chin, he returned attention to the swell of your clit. With present amusement, he applied just enough pressure where you most yearned for it. Breathy noises flooded the room, nude hips slapping against eachother, his hot breath tickling your cheeks.
“Right here, hm?” Harry smirked, heat-ridden bodies rocking together, bringing yourselves closer and closer.
“F-Fuck, yes..” You whined, back arching invitingly, a release brewing inside the both of you.
"That's it, fuck, just like that.."  He grunted, the jerking of his hips growing much lazier.
Practically melting against the work of his fingers, the sheer strength of your orgasm seized you, washing over your entirety. A breathy, passionate sound rolled off your tongue as you revelled in the climax. Tortured by the sensation of you clenching around his cock, Harry panted, sliding out as a burst of warmth painted your inner thighs.
Breathing far from steady, your glistening foreheads leant together, Harry’s lips parting to speak with a familiarly charming smile, “Better?”
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Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the requests/asks feature on my page - it’d be so greatly appreciated!
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|| HAZBIN HOTEL MASTER LIST PART 2 ||
[Key]
-💕means it has sexual content/Implied sexual content..
-💔means it is an angst fic
-😍means it is a family fic
-💘means it is an angst fic with a happy ending.
-🚫means it contains a Trigger Warning.
─ ★
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─ ★Lucifer Morningstar.
🪽:Cuddling with Lucifer
🪽:helping you when you're sick
🪽: comforting you when you're feeling anxious
🪽:proposal with Lucifer
🪽:wedding hc with Lucifer
🪽:
🪽:
🪽:
─ ★Dad!cifer Fics n Things.
🪽:
🪽:
🪽:
🪽:
─ ★Alastor "The Radio Demon."
📻:Dad!Alastor when you're uncomfortable during pregnancy / going into labour?
📻:wedding Hc with Alastor
📻:
📻:
─ ★Dad!Alastor Fics n Things.
📻:
📻:
📻:
─ ★Overlord!Husk
🎰:Cuddling with Husk
🎰:
🎰:
🎰:
─ ★Husk
🍻:Giving Husk a bj under the bar table.
🍻:Husk kneading into you
🍻:Wedding hc with Husk
🍻:
🍻:
─ ★Dad!Husk Fics n Things.
🍻:Husk snore-purring with his head resting on the baby bump
🍻:Husk napping with his kits
🍻:Overlord!Husk meeting Husk's kits
🍻:
🍻:
🍻:
─ ★Adam
🍎:Comforting Adam / tending to his wounds
🍎:wedding hc's with Adam
🍎:
🍎:
─ ★Dad! Adam things
🍎:Adam's daughter slapping him for snoring.
🍎:
🍎:
🍎:
🍎:
─ ★Angel Dust { Anthony }
💄: Wedding Hc's with Anthony.
💄:
💄:
💄:
💄:
💄:
─ ★Vox
📺:light bondage with Vox
📺:
📺:
─ ★The Archangels / Big G
🌟:Michael babysitting Edna
🌟:
🌟:
🌟:
🌟:
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that-safe-public-term · 15 hours
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elmhat · 2 days
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// dsmp rp
@sam-and-dream-week day 4 — "torture"
TW: aftermath of torture (duh)
“It shouldn’t be stuck in this far,” said Sam, tugging at the wooden stake lodged in Dream’s arm.
Dream winced at the pain, biting the inside of his cheek. “Sorry,” he replied, with a healthy touch of sarcasm. Maybe Sam should ask Quackity to apologize, if it was such a big deal. They must have some pretty interesting conversations anyway.
Sam eyed him while he worked. “Don’t use that tone with me. We both know who’s to blame for this.”
“Y’know, I kinda— I feel like we’re gonna have pretty different answers,” said Dream. He couldn’t help it, he was amused.
Sam ignored him entirely. With one hand, he dug metal fingers into the flesh of Dream’s arm. With the other, he gripped the stake, grunting as he pulled it free in a flurry of oozing blood. Dream yelled out, of course, but Sam ignored that too, immediately going to apply regen to the fresh new hole. “All you have to do is give me the book,” he said. “That’s it. That’s literally it. It’s not hard.”
“Like you actually give a shit about that,” Dream muttered. His arm hurt. His arm really hurt.
“Of course I care about the book, what? I’ve told you that since day one.”
Day one was who knows how long ago now. Dream would guess it had been a couple of weeks, at least, but he was painfully aware that time was probably passing far slower for him than the rest of the world. A lot could change in a couple of weeks; Dream had always been good at making use of his time. Quackity was also good at making use of his time.
“Really,” said Dream. “So, before this, when I was still… free… you still would’ve cared about the revival book? That’s— That still would’ve been, like, top priority?”
Sam sat back on his heels, wiping a bloodied arm across his bloodied forehead. “Dream, what are you saying. Before you were in here, we didn’t even know the book existed!”
“No— but if you did, though.” Dream took a nervous breath before he said the next part. “Pretend Punz doesn’t show up. And then I tell you— as a friend, I tell you, about the book. Then what?”
In an obvious bid to avoid the question, Sam began rifling through his medkit. Lots of bottles in there—healing potions, mostly, but also regen and fire res, for emergencies. Maybe Dream could steal one, at some point. When he had two functional arms. Sam soaked a cloth in more regen, which he wasn’t gentle about applying. “It doesn’t even matter what I’d do,” he said, “it didn’t happen.”
“But if it did,” said Dream.
“You shouldn’t have that kind of power,” Sam snapped, forcing eye contact. “You shouldn’t. And the rest of the server wouldn’t allow it either— you know, it’s not just us who need that book. It’s for all of us. For the good of the world.”
Through the throbbing, nauseating pain, Dream felt a kind of smugness settle in his chest. Even now, even here, he was able to provoke a reaction from his warden—and they both knew that Dream was right, Sam was just too much of a coward to admit it. There was power in words, and words were the one thing that they would never be able to take from him. Not if they continued claiming to want that precious book.
“Sorry,” Dream said eventually, and he even bowed his head a little, just to make Sam feel like he had won whatever contest this was.
Within the walls of this prison, Dream had never been honest. Not with Sam, not about this place or its purpose. That was the nature of their relationship. The builder and the mastermind. The puppet and the strings. Sam could send in his attack dog all he liked, but Dream was still the one holding the leash.
That was what his mind repeated, long into the night, while he awaited Quackity’s return.
~
[ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 ]
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foxdrabbles · 1 day
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Pramanix 🤝 Lava
having feranmut gfs
"Oh, I don't need Kjeragandr for this one."
Lava frowned as the Feline seated across the table from her swept the parchment in front of her back into a neat pile. "You don't...?"
"No. Listen." Pramanix tucked a braid of hair back behind her ear and leaned forward. "Firstly? Food. Good food is always an appropriate gift. Talk to Matterhorn in the kitchen, tell him I sent you. Secondly. Don't worry about trying to live up to the expectations you put on yourself. You don't have to give her the grandest, most extravagant gift she's ever seen - you have thousands of years of life to compete with! Give her something that only you can give. Write a poem, or paint a painting, or make something with your Arts. She doesn't want something fancy or expensive, she wants you."
Lava slowly nodded. "And you're sure that will work?"
"Positive." Pramanix tucked her papers back into a woven handbag. "I've been married to the Goddess Kjeragandr for years now, I think I would know how to buy an immortal a gift."
"You're - wait, married? I thought you were dating your handmaid."
"No, I am." Pramanix folded her hands, smiling politely at the confused Sarkaz.
"Is - is it like a symbolic thing? Because you're the Saintess, and the Saintess is 'married' to the Goddess? I've read something like that before."
"Nnnno, not exactly."
"But - wait, hold on. Does that mean - ?"
Pramanix winked. "Honestly, you would think, with her codename, more people would have figured it out by now. Subtlety isn't her strong suit."
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hiskillingjar · 3 days
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could we get some t4t law w a transmasc mc? I'm absolutely feral for any t4t btd content but ur transfem law portrayal has me in a chokehold I need that girl so bad
YES!!!!!!!!!!!!! YES WE CAN!!!!!!!!!!!!
1200+ words, t4t love is divine <3 love your local transfem today <3
You took in a low hiss through your teeth as the skinny needle slid into your skin, sinking deep into your flesh.
"That okay?" Law mumbled lowly from where she was kneeling at your feet, her hand (big, lovely, a little bony) on your soft hip as the other held the syringe tight and pressed the plunger down, injecting the testosterone fluid into you.
There was something phallic about the gesture, and had you pointed it out, she probably would have agreed with you (though might have chided you afterwards).
"Yeah. I just never get used to the sting, you know?" You mumbled quietly, biting your lip to hide your coy smile as she rubbed a soothing circle into your skin, shaking her head (shaking out her blonde hair, she had cut it yesterday with a razor and made her bangs too short) with a little chuckle.
She laughed a lot more these days. She blamed therapy. You blamed yourself.
"Mm, I know," She nodded and drew back the needle, giving your hip a quick kiss as she stood to her feet, her willowy height putting her almost a head taller than you. Not like you ever minded that, though, you certainly made up for her height advantage in other respects (when she let you). "You're a big boy though, you can handle it. It's not so bad."
"No, it's not so bad…" You murmured as she started to prep her own needle (after disposing of yours in a trash can under her sink, never properly), admiring the harsh slope of her crooked spine, her broad shoulders, her slim waist, clad in nothing more than a cropped vest and a pair of sleep shorts.
She was beautiful, you thought, as you slipped behind her and rested your chin on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her freckled skin against yours, but a beauty that was strange and personal. You liked that more than conventional beauty, though.
"Needy," She mumbled softly, a smile on her delicate features.
"Mmhmm…want me to do you?" You replied, watching attentively as she drew in her own hormone fluid with the new syringe and glanced up at you through the mirror, those once lifeless grey eyes filled with sweet fondness (in spite of how dead they remained).
"Yes, please…" Law whispered, her voice raspy and low, not the higher tone that she usually took these days.
She was honest with you. She used her true voice, and showed her true self, even if it had the potential of being scary or dangerous.
You were never scared of her.
It was an equivalent exchange of submission, you thought, as your hips pressed tightly together and your arms circled her skinny waist (too skinny, she should eat more, she should eat better), taking the needle in hand.
The willingness to be penetrated, to be the vulnerable one, to be the one taken…she submitted to you as you did, so often, to her.
She was trembling slightly from the anticipation, maybe the cool air of the bathroom too, but managed to keep her voice as level and calm as she could, like she didn't want to show you how much she wanted you, how much she wanted this.
"Ready…" She mumbled softly, though the word trailed off into a low moan as you pressed the tip of the syringe into her flesh, almost to the very hilt of the needle. Too deep, you knew that, you'd been injecting yourselves for months now, but...it felt right to do it like this now.
"How are you feeling, baby?" You asked quietly, pushing the plunger down and emptying the contents of the syringe into her.
"Mmm…mmh," She moaned again, tipping her head back against your shoulder (her blonde hair tickling your collarbone as she did so), her hands trembling as they went down to your hand on her thigh.
Her cock was stirring to attention in the loose sleep shorts, and you could see it gently twitch and jump beneath the gusset of the thin cotton.
"Ah, someone's getting excited," You murmured with a coy smile, as your other hand slid to her hip and trailed along the harsh V-line of her pelvis, to squeeze and grope at her cock and stroke it into full arousal.
"Hahhh…" She breathed out shallowly, her chest rising up and down as the last of the estrogen was emptied into her body. She gripped your wrist tightly, her underlying strength still clear as she dug bit nails into the delicate lines of your veins.
"So hot," You murmured, taking the needle out of her thigh and planting your now free hand on her hips, pinning her still against the bathroom sink.
Her body pressed tightly against yours, and you wanted nothing more than to merge into her, melt into her, feel your skin graft with hers and your bodies become one. But you couldn't do that, at least not physically, so you held her hips tighter and forced her to turn, seeing her flushed face up close, her backside hitting the edge of the sink.
"You make me feel like a God, Law," You rasped lowly (your voice had sunk a couple of octaves in the months of doing this together), pressing a hungry kiss against her neck, running your tongue over her throat.
She stifled a weak cry as her arms wrapped around your shoulders and clutched onto you tight, her bitten nails digging into your skin, threatening to tear into you.
You wanted nothing more than for her to do that.
"And you feel like Heaven…" You gasped, running your tongue over her sharp collarbone (so sharp, you wondered how it hadn't punctured her skin), before erratically shoving her tank top up her chest, still groping her hard cock through her shorts. "I hope every angel in Heaven looks just like you…"
"Mh…" Law shivered as you tongued her skin, running her own tongue over her lips as you kissed and nipped down her sternum. "I'm…mm, I'm no angel." She whispered with a shy smile, her pale skin flushed.
"Yeah, you are…" You replied in a tone as close to awe as you could manage, reaching up to grope her tiny chest, the growing swell of her breast filling your palm, and pinching at her sensitive nipple. "I hope all the angels are girls like you…sharp noses and broad shoulders and perfect tits, just like yours."
"Ngh-!" She gasped, her body tensing up and her grey eyes fluttering shut as you toyed with and stimulated each of her most sensitive spots, the gradual squeezing of her cock turning into subtle jerks, up and down the impressive length. "Ah…g-god…"
"Mm, you can call me-" You growled your name with a grin as you dipped your head and suckled her nipple, pressing your body even closer to hers.
She wheezed out a husky giggle at your bad joke, her trembling hands reaching up to cradle your head against her breast, like a baby to its mother, fingers pushing into your hair and pushing her chest outward, as if presenting herself to you.
"Mm, you're my God," She mumbled, reaching down with her free hand to rub against the damp patch gathering in your boxers, making you moan and bite down on her nipple. "You shape me, you mould me into a proper woman, a proper girl…an angel, that's what makes you my God…"
"You too, baby…" You whispered, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips to her breast. "You make me more of a man…"
"You are…you're my man," She smiled, holding you even tighter. "And I'm your God…"
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greenhousethree · 2 days
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twenty-two
That year, the seventh month dies on a Wednesday and they leave town.
for dearest @turanga4, if a little belated. thank you for being so wonderfully you.
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preview below the cut, full piece on AO3:
It has them both feeling like kids again, like sneaking out— stuffing his rucksack with shorts and sun cream after work in the dead of night, rolling the top to force it closed around a broken drawstring. By the time he’s shouldering the bag she checks her watch and it’s gone midnight. Twelve minutes into the thirty-first.
She doesn’t acknowledge it, but now he’s looking at her with his brow furrowed and a question forming on his mouth. She kisses it away, sweet and nutty from leftover Thai. Takes his hand from her hip, locks the flat behind them. She’s thinking they just might Apparate somewhere way out west this time— Charlie says California’s beautiful— they could nudge right up to where yesterday’s only half gone, buy him another day before he’s older than his parents ever got to be.
But they won’t. 
He leads the way down the steps and around the corner. There’s hardly a breeze, but the night is cool on the back of her neck as the street slumbers under orange lamplight. A block away, back doors of pubs are clanging open for closing staff, bin bags thrown in the skips, keys and change jangling en route to bus stops. The light over the mouth of their usual alleyway is burnt out, so they slip into the dark.
He’s looking at her now, tugging her close till she can smell the soap and linen from his shower, something a little richer in the crook of his neck like the cologne on his top shelf. He’s motionless, concentrating— it’s always like this for a second before Apparating so far. Last week for a laugh she offered to book a Portkey this time instead, something about him getting on in years. Earned herself a spatter of marinara flicked from a spoon.
“I can do it,” she offers now. She’s already picturing cobblestones and stucco and a blue door.
“S’fine,” he murmurs into her hair.
He twists, and for a long moment they’re somewhere between here and there.
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lexithwrites · 2 days
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Hi :) 80 + wolfstar
hi izzy!!
prompts
80. “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?”
slight TW for this one, just Sirius having negative thoughts about himself but just in case anyone is upset by that the warning is here!
—————————— ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ —————���————
"I love you."
Sirius stared at him, eyes darting across his face to try and read any ounce of humour or deceit, but there was nothing there. Remus was being genuine, but how? How could he love him?
It was Sirius.
"You've had too much to drink, Moons." Sirius snorted, shaking hands moving to grab his wine glass and fill it up. Slightly contradictory, since Sirius had drank most of the wine that night. Maybe that's what it was; he was drunk and he misheard him.
"No, I haven't," Remus was frowning at him from across the kitchen island. "I mean it, Sirius—"
"No you don't,"
"Yes I do!"
"Stop it!" Sirius voice sent Remus back a step and he swallowed. The glass in his hand was shaking now, too, and Sirius put down the wine bottle before he accidentally dropped it on the floor. "You...you don't mean that, Remus. And it's fine, really, I'm not mad at you—"
"What are you talking about?"
"You can't love me, no, you don't love me," Sirius shook his head and took a long gulp, wincing at the burn in his throat. He fucking hated white wine. "We're friends,"
"If that's how you feel about me that's fine—" Remus tried to step closer to him again but Sirius backed up and against the counter.
"No, don't do that," he mumbled, his voice trembling. Remus was playing a cruel trick on him now, that's all it was. He felt sorry for him because Sirius couldn't hold a healthy relationship down and Remus had never dated anyone. It was all too convenient and it wasn't true. Remus didn't love him. "You're being mean."
He could never love him. He was a fucking mess.
"I"m telling you how I feel, how is that mean?" Remus didn't understand. He saw how Sirius looked at him, how often he touched him. He knew. He knew he wanted this so why was he denying it? "Sirius—"
"I don't believe you."
"Why not?"
"Because why would you love me, Remus? What good am I to you?" Sirius spat and that made Remus pause.
"You don't think you're good enough?" He whispered. Sirius hated being vulnerable, fuck. But now he had backed himself into a corner and couldn't escape. “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?”
"Stop it—"
"I've always loved you,"
"Moony, please—"
"I mean it, Sirius. Ever since we first met I've been mental for you and I'm sorry but I need to tell you before I explode because I know—" Remus took his hand and Sirius jumped at how close they were. "—I know you feel something for me. I know I'm plain, and all I do is read my books and mind my own business, and I wear these ugly fucking jumpers and I smoke too much, but I know you feel it too, Pads. I see it in your eyes when you look at me."
Sirius looked up. Guess he wasn't as slick as he thought. He watched as Remus' soft brown eyes scanned his own face for something, anything, and he let out a whimper.
"But it's me," Sirius mumbled, putting down the glass and fisting Remus' jumper. They were always so soft and smelt so good, like sandalwood and pine cigarettes and him. "I don't deserve someone as good as you, Moony. I never have. S'why I never said anything."
"You silly git," Remus chuckled, tears welling in his eyes that made Sirius' mouth part in shock. He never saw Remus cry. "You say everything that's on your mind but that?"
Sirius' cheeks flushed. "Well, you know how I hate rejection—"
Remus pulled him against his chest and Sirius melted. Just like he always did. Then it slowly started to sink in that Remus loved him. He loved him. All these years of pining for him in secret—or as secret as telling James as often as he could was—just for Remus to love him back. Maybe he was a silly git.
"Can we promise to just tell each other everything from now on?" Remus mumbled into his hair and Sirius shivered. His voice always did that to him.
"Yeah, okay." He nodded and nuzzled his jumper. "S'always been you, Moony."
"I know," Remus replied, "and it's always been you."
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player1064 · 14 hours
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accidentally outing themselves on live tv? dunno how or if anyone else at sky knows but it’s something they’d do providing some images from the carraville discord that we were talking about yesterday
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god they WOULD end up accidentally outing themselves bc they already can't keep their hands to themselves imagine how much worse they would be.......... I shudder to think............
---
“I’m here pitchside with Gary Neville –“
“—Carragher were meant to be joinin’ us, but he’s late getting up from London.”
“Yes, quite. I’m sure he’ll be arriving soon. In the meantime – Gary, what are your thoughts on United’s starting line-up tonight?”
*
Gary is nodding along to something Kelly is saying when his attention suddenly shifts to something off camera. He rolls his eyes as Jamie comes crashing in, bag slid halfway down his shoulders, seemingly unaware of the producer holding his earpiece who’s trying to get his attention.
“Sorry, love,” he says as he hurries up to Gary, immediately stepping into his personal space. He ducks his head down to press their lips together in a quick greeting before he continues, “there was a crash on the M6 or summat, a whole section of the road was closed off. Bloody nightmare, I’m tellin’ ya.”
As he talks, he doesn’t seem to notice Gary’s wide eyed stare, the blush rising in his cheeks, or Kelly clamping a hand to her mouth while her shoulders shake in laughter.
Gary tries his best to compose himself and turns to the camera with an expression caught between terror and amusement, and he says “well, now that Jamie’s very kindly provided us all with a traffic update I think it’s time for us to hear from our colleagues in the studio.” When the light of the camera turns off, he reaches out to give Jamie a slap round the back of the head and hisses “live television, James, how many years’ve you been doin’ this again?”
“Wha?” Jamie looks over, already surrounded by a small hoard of tech people and a make-up artists trying to get him camera ready as quickly as they can.
“Oh my God,” Gary mutters, pinching his brow. “Jamie, you dolt, you just kissed me in front of our live audience of what – a million people?”
“I never,” Jamie says with an offended glare, far too confident for someone who definitely fucking did.
“Oh my God,” Gary repeats. “You don’t believe me? Check your fucking phone.”
*
“You don’t even get Sky Sports in America, Philip, how have you already seen it?”
“Tray sent it to me, it’s all over Twitter.”
“Oh, well that’s just great then in’t it?” Gary huffs. At Jamie’s questioning look, he repeats “it’s all over Twitter, apparently.”
For a moment Jamie looks almost proud that he’s a trending topic, but he shuts his expression down when he sees Gary’s glare and turns back to his own phone call (“no, Ma, I –”)
“I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me, Gaz,” Philip whines down the phone. “I tell you everythin’”
“An’ I keep askin’ you not to tell me everythin’! Isn’t a man entitled to a little privacy?”
*
Group: STF Gang NO PARENTS > Jill: who had money on it being Jamie cos I’m pretty sure I’d said Gary > Roy: I think we all said Gary > Ian: statistically it was most likely to be Gary. > Ian: but Roy said it’d be while they’re covering a match so I think he wins it > Jill: :(((
*
(24 new messages)
Stevie G: > you’re trending on twitter what have you done now > NEVIlLE??? Carra have some self respect
J Redknapp: > you melt 😂 > everyone in the studio is running around panicking rn
MO: > did everyone know except me?? > you’re shite at texting I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend > I didn’t even know you liked men? > Gaz is nice though we should all go for drinks sometime
*
(57 new messages)
Scholesy: > twat why didnt u tell me > u was moaning about him just last week
Philip MU mob: > you hung up before I could say but proud of you Gaz!
Roy Keane MU mob: > does this mean we’re allowed to tease you two about it on camera now > here if you need anything > [image: a blurry, blank-faced selfie with a thumbs up]
BIG MEEKS: > you could do better 🙄😉
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tw/cw;; got bored again and decided why not do some FNF content??maybe sum headcannons??? So erm, mentions of violence , gore , angst , fluff , sick beats , and a lotta beep bop Bo’s.
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bf [keith] with a tall partner actually makes me shed tears of utter happiness. Like yes give me a short king who is confident as hell. Also have a little headcannon that his hair is not naturally blue and is like blonde or summat , just damaged as fuck from all the hair dye. Also have a headcannon that he has nightmares about the lemon demon hurting and/or killing those close to him and the whole corruption thing happening again. Thunderstorms/ lighting immediately put him on edge because of the first encounter they had after skid & pump’s rap battle. Also the headcannon that he and pico had a precious relationship has me fucking kicking my feet ‘n giggling. Yes i love the enemies to lovers trope who the hell doesnt??? Just dont do the “oh bf is so preppy and bby” no his ass literally — in case you forgot — rap battled against fucking DEMONS so i dont wanna hear shi bout no sensitive and soft bf because his ass is a full on warrior and savage. I dont know bout y’all but i ain’t stepping near one with no damn mic in hand — gun maybe — but no fucking mic.
pico most definitely has a collection of guns in his house like it has to be somewhere in his home; his room , basement , kitchen , i dunno a fucking secret compartment — he’d be the type top have one of those — he most likely gets all his weapons from tankman , who’s like his father figure. He CRAVES attention and affection like c’mon give him some love he needs it. I have this little thought rummaging around in my head that whenever he’s near a school a sick and twisted grin will form and he definitely thinks of shooting the school up. Also, he most definitely is a playboy; has had off ‘n on relationships with his classmates you cannot tell me otherwise. Yes , he did partake in a school shooting , but he still has nightmares about being in one. Hey, it was the first one that made him this way. He just has something against redheads now, he hates ‘em. Have an idea that pico has shot himself once — not on purpose , hes not suicidal — but has shot himself accidentally while trying to reload a gun. His pain sensors are probably fucked up because of how much chaos and violence he’s involved in. Also you cannot tell me that bf doesnt like bothering and teasing pico about how he has shot himself like its just a go to just to piss him off. All out of love, though. All out of love.
gf [wiki i read calls her Amelia so ya-] most definitely has insecurities about her height. Have a headcannon that shes about 5’9–5’10 and it makes her feel like no one would want her for that but our homeboy Keith is into them tall ‘n thicc girls. Also another headcannon that amelia is plus sized its just making me giggle ‘n smile like yes we love thicc thighs and how they save lives — we have a motto here; to die by thigh is the way of a warrior. You know what they say; if you you can make her smile and giggle , you can make that ass clap and jiggle- im sorry I’ll stop. I think that she has like an obsession with speakers like she has a speaker in every room she can. You know youre real close with her when all the speakers she has in her house auto connects to your phone >>>> she most likely has thousands of pairs of headphones just for her, rare if she shares a pair. Shes just like me Fr she cant go a second without music, like who cant?? Dawg and whoever listens to fucking white noise i will find you-
skid ‘n’ pump are the sweetest little balls of chaos to ever roam this fucking planet. You cannot tell me that they’ve never committed felonies and atrocities that would make the devil sick. And they’re most definitely the type to listen to ICP (insane clown posse) and they wear Juggalo makeup you cannot tell me otherwise you CANNOT- they also like hello kitty because yeah ofc who doesnt. Whenever someone they care about is sad they’ll do le spooky dance. I feel like they’d be the super weird kids in school who wear onesies to school and have fucked up grades. Skid most likely is the more athletic one and pump would be the one who’s just all brawn and no brains. I dont know why, but imaging them as feral ADULTS ! ! ! Dawg like pump being a gigantic monstrosity who terrifies anyone he can and skid being the one who sits on his shoulder or climbs him like hes A fucking play set. I dont know why but the image of it makes me CRUMBLE.
tankman can respectfully get it. He can get it any day. Like yes , we love the sassy man apocalypse, give us that fine man. I don’t know bout y’all , but that man is MNNGMMNGMNN- idea that he — if he and reader are a thing — would allow only them to wear his helmet if they ask. And im imaging like a fucking DILF under that fuckin’ helmet. Im talkin stubble , cigar in mouth , tired eyes , the whole pack. Fuck the dad bod for now, he would be fucking ripped and i mean riiiippedd like jacked. Might be my obsession with dilfs bc of my daddy issues but him calling the reader fucking any petname HRRRNGGG- im foul for this man and i can go into heavy detail i can get real shameless. Hes the cocky and smug bastard we all need in our lives. He’d be the type to let you sit on his lap and decorate his mask/face or tactical gear in stickers. Just give him one lil kiss and hes all lovely dovey with you. And its so sos sos nos sos sos soo so canon he has a southern accent.
senpai is one envious and jealous motherfucker. Headcannons that he has ripped out a guy’s guts just because they talked to his crush. (ehem reader ehem). He most definitely has every perfume/cologne that the reader likes because he wants them to like him. He is most def a yandere and there’s no deterring me from said claim. If his crush likes something about him , it’s never changing ever again. He’d be the type to hide himself if something about him isnt perfect; say hes having a bad hair day and he’ll wear a beanie, if he didnt have anytime to do his skincare routine he simply will wear a medical mask. He feels like he wont attract your attention if hes not perfect, but hes always perfect because hes amazing like duhh. But he does have thousands of insecurities there’s no hiding it. In all reality hes just a little baby who needs reassurance.
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I can continue this type of stuff , just lemme know if you want more of my little drabbles n blurbs.
Should i do poppy playtime things too??
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truetogaia · 2 months
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just thinking and crying over the way simon would continue to refer to you as “his girl” even after your sudden passing.
he would talk about you as if you were still alive whenever relationships came up in conversation. and he’d be so reluctant to allow anyone, even his respected comrades, to try and comfort him.
“yeah, me n my girl have been together for years now. she’s everything. all i’ve got, ya know?”
he would make sure to always keep your resting place full of life. Whether that was by planting your favorite plant, and naming it after you, or always keeping it filled with bouquets of your favorite flowers. and he’d always take your beloved pet that you left behind to go see you.
“did you miss mommy, p/n? i bet our girl missed you so much.” and he’d smile sadly when your baby showed signs of recognizing your grave. his heavy hand petting it comfortingly “so excited to see her today, yeah?”
cod masterlist
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sprout-fics · 3 months
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Neighbors Alpha Ghost except he’s extremely polite for a man who is the biggest scariest alpha you’ve ever met. Alpha Ghost who’s lived beside you for years and has developed a rapport of trust with you, the sweet omega that lives next door. Ghost, who trusts you to watch over his place when he’s deployed and in return he helps you repair the various odds and ends in your place. Ghost who routinely asks you if you need anything from the store, and in return you give him baked sweets to take to base.
Ghost who’s gone for weeks at a time for work and you try not to entertain the idea that he may not come back, that one day you’ll wake up to your landlady emptying out his apartment and learning the hard way that you’ll never see him again. Ghost who always comes back, and feels a warm flush of fondness at the relief on your face when you see him again.
Ghost who once came home to find you cornered in the stairwell by an alpha you’d rejected, your face horrified at the things your would be suitor was snarling at you. Ghost who bodily hauled the smaller alpha down the stairs and threw him into the street with a snarled warning to never return, fangs bared beneath his mask. Ghost who returned to make sure you got home safe, and the next day helped you install a secure deadbolt for your safety.
Ghost who allowed himself a rare encounter that night when you hugged him in thanks, swallowing down tears and apologizing for the hassle. Ghost, who’s thought of the moment ever since, of how nice you smelled, how the feeling of you in his arms felt right.
Ghost, who hears you through the thin wall you two share a few weeks later, crying your eyes out. When you answer his gentle knock your face crumples. You confess that said rotten alpha showed up to your job and made a scene, and you were reluctantly let go because of the disturbance. Ghost, who for all his cold hearted demeanor and apathetic nature, feels only anger when you tell him this. Silently, Ghost vows to track down the fellow and discreetly ensure he’ll never hassle another omega again.
Ghost who stays at your request despite himself, allows you to put on old TV reruns and sniffle into his shoulder before you fall asleep there on the couch. Ghost, who’s instincts swell with pride at this omega who deems him safe enough to let into your den, to keep you safe while you rest against him.
Ghost who hears from you a week later, when you knock on his door embarrassed but standing strong with your fists clenched at your sides. Ghost, who is amused at your demeanor and listens as you tell him you have money for rent and groceries this month, but not for your suppressants. Ghost half expects you to ask for money, but is floored when you instead steel yourself and ask him to help you with your coming heat because you trust him. Ghost who freezes where he stands and finally tells you he’ll consider it, unable to shake your pleased smile for hours afterwards.
Ghost who sits on it for a few days, ignores the possessive, prowling thing in his chest as he weighs his options but agrees to help you. Ghost, who watches Price raise an eyebrow when he puts in for leave- his lieutenant who never seems to stop working, but approves it anyways. Ghost who researches what omegas need during heats, from nesting supplies to physical touch to…everything else and tries to remind himself it’s just a favor. It doesn’t mean anything, even if you asked him out of everyone else you know.
Ghost who gets a text on a lazy Sunday morning and is in your flat five minutes later willing but oddly nervous. He expects to find you in a state of debauchery but instead pads into your bedroom to find you curled under the covers sweating and glassy eyed, still coherent to smile and offer a weary thanks. Ghost who supplies a bag of scent laden clothes that has you curling into his familiar smell with a pleased whine. Ghost who tries his best at making you food while you arrange the clothes into a nest with sluggish limbs.
Ghost, who stiffly sits at your bedside and dabs at your sweaty brow, ignoring the flare of base instinct at the sweet, hypnotic smell of an omega in heat. His omega, his instincts purr. Just not yet. Ghost who cedes to your demands to cuddle, watching you go pliant and soft in his arms with a sigh, drinking in his scent as you drift off to sleep.
Ghost who wakes up hours later to you squirming and whining against him, panting and hazy eyed as the telltale scent of slick clouds his nose and draws an answering, primal growl from deep in his chest. Ghost who, with great restraint and gentleness works to prep you with large, calloused fingers, taking more time that he should just to make sure you’re ready. Ghost who firmly hushes your complaints and instead allows himself the selfish act of being completely involved in you, far beyond that of a clinical touch. Ghost who smears your tears of desperation with his thumb, murmurs a dark and heady “pretty omega” before finally, finally sinking into you.
Ghost, who maneuvers you as he pleases, watching the awareness fade from your eyes only to be replaced by heat-addled lust and your lips begging for more. Ghost who braces his full weight on you and rocks with slow, powerful motions that have you hiccup and writhe under him, pushing back onto his cock. Ghost who’s fangs pop out as he carefully refuses the instinct to bite the gland of the mewling, whimpering omega underneath him, but failing to restrain the instinctual growl of MINE that thunders in his chest.
Ghost who makes you come so slick dribbles down your thighs and you fist the sheets with a whimper of his name. Ghost who coos praises into your ear and grinds his cock into you so your eyes roll back into your head. Ghost who has you come twice more before he finally empties himself into you and silently feels the instinctual hope that it takes. Ghost who has no need to measure his stamina, ready to go again in minutes as you reach blindly for him, presenting oh so prettily for your alpha.
Ghost who takes all the time in the world for the days that follow, allowing himself to cave to the alpha instinct of providing, protecting, caring for the perfect little omega in his care. Ghost who watches you like shark as you fall asleep in the bath, sitting you in his lap after and making you eat before sinking you on his cock again. Ghost who coos at you as you go slack jawed and glassy eyed as he mounts you once more- ruining the sheets he just changed as you gush around him.
Ghost who wakes on the third day sore in all the best ways, noticing the way you cling to him like an octopus as you sleep. Ghost who pets at you fondly and noticed the scent of your heat finally ebbing away, blissfully shortened by his attentions. Ghost who watches your peaceful face and once more purrs happily at the thought that you’re his.
Ghost who can’t help but think about the next time he’s due to rut, about stretching you out on his knot and feeling the sensation of you clench down on him in climax. Ghost who reminds himself that it’s only one thing to look forward to, that courting is a careful process and that you deserve to be treated well in the duration of it. Ghost who now lays a palm on your scent gland and rumbles deep and primal, fulfilled at you being soaked in his scent, warding off any other alphas. Ghost who promises you and himself to do this right, to be the mate you need him to be.
Ghost who drifts back off thinking how beautiful his claiming bite might look against your throat.
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celestialwhoree · 2 months
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♡🎀
Simon Riley is the type to get his partner a dog, argue with the wall.
He maybe even pulls some strings to get them a retired K9, or maybe one that didn't make it all the way through training due to size, injury etc.
He literally cannot stand the thought of them alone when he's deployed for long periods of time, not just worried about them being lonely despite having loads of friends, a bookclub and a job. He also can't stand the thought of them unprotected in their home.
Their house is practically a safe house with the way Simon's done it up with help of the boys and some pretty fancy security equipment, but the fact that there's also a massive, scary looking dog in the house is just another layer of protection.
The dog is absolutely just the sweetest, most gentle thing, but after all those years of training, it's fiercely loyal to its owners, and won't hesitate to bare its teeth if they're threatened - much like Simon himself.
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elmhat · 18 hours
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// dsmp rp
@sam-and-dream-week day 5 — "lava"
TW: self-harm, abuse
“Sam!”
The lava wall was bright. Dream still felt his eyes burning, just a little, when he looked at it, but he had mostly gotten used to the pain. There wasn’t much else to look at in here.
“Sam!”
He imagined he could see him on the other side, standing tall and proud and unyielding. He was always standing like that. What would he look like without his armor? Dream genuinely couldn’t remember. He couldn’t really remember what anyone looked like besides Sam and Quackity, and Quackity hadn’t visited regularly in a long, long time.
“Sam! It’s serious, please!”
Lazily, Dream raised a hand in front of him, stopping just short of losing it to the light. It burned, being this close to it. It shimmered. Glowed, like the sun. It filled his soul with more warmth than most things could anymore. Slowly, carefully and slowly, he inched his hand forwards, until the edge of his palm was grazing the surface and he was hissing in pain, pulling back, but he forced himself to keep holding his hand near it anyway. It was warm. Dream wanted to feel warm.
A voice from beside him. “Stop! What are you—!”
Dream was grabbed, hauled backwards and thrown to the floor. He smiled up at Sam; he hadn’t seen him come through the wall of lava, but he had known that he would.
Sam seized Dream’s hand, taking one look before slapping it away again. “That’s it, that’s your emergency? How many times have I— You can’t just—”
“Sorry,” said Dream, automatic. Half of the words he said these days were sorry. But that was okay. Sam was still coming and going at the prisoner’s whim, like the loyal lapdog that he was. Dream still had him.
“This is the last time I’m coming in here because of your— issues,” said Sam, spitting the word like a curse. “Understand? This isn’t gonna be rewarded.”
“You said that last time,” Dream muttered.
“What was that?”
Dream knew that it wasn’t rhetorical, Sam wanted an answer. So fine. Dream answered. “I said, you said that last time,” he repeated.
Sam’s stare was piercing. There wasn’t much else to do when the fury was this blatant, so Dream smirked up at him, feeling pretty proud of himself. It was what he deserved. Sam, predictably, reached down, and he backhanded Dream hard across the face. He grabbed his chin before he could hit the floor.
“Do you want me to bring Quackity back here?” Sam asked him.
Dream searched his face for the sincerity of the threat, and he saw only the warden’s mask. He didn’t feel warm anymore. He felt very, very cold.
“Answer me.”
“No,” Dream said quietly. “No, warden.”
Sam remained silent. For a worrying few seconds, Dream feared that he had pushed it too far this time, but then Sam stood, releasing his face in a manner that ended up with Dream essentially thrown to the floor again.
“I’m not healing that for you,” said Sam over his shoulder.
Dream nodded. Good. He didn’t want to forget.
~
[ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 ]
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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 months
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If your requests are still open may I request Adam, Alastor or Lucifer doesn't matter which taking care of sick reader? I'm sick rn, like can't breath though my nose and sore throat all that jazz
A/n: I AM SOERY FOR MISSING THIS! Tumblr never lets me know! I hope you feel better!
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Adam:
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"Shouldn't you be resting? Didn't I order you get someone else to do this shit?!" Adam didn't mean to snap but you were sick and yet here you were working.
Wrinkling his nose, he took a step towards you then lifted you onto his shoulders. A small squeak left your lips as the angel carried you off towards his room.
"Adam" you let out a small cough, too weak to struggle. "Put me down! I have to work"
Nearly tossing you on the bed, you let a groan burying your face into his pillow as he slipped into next to the spot next to you.
"Didn't you hear me? Someone else can do it." He muttered into your neck. "Now get some sleep, when you wake up I'll get someone to bring you some shit to make you feel better."
Alastor:
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Stopping his show, Alastor slowly made his way towards the sound of the constant coughing. Gripping his cane tightly the demon opened his mouth until he saw who it was. It was a pathetic sight really.
You curled up into a small ball coughing away, tissues all around you. He could see shivers wracking your body.
'Idiot, he told you not to stay out, he told you this would happen.'
Part of him wanted to brag about it, to gloat to you but how could he really gloat to someone he...cared about. { that was something he was still getting used too }
Now hovering about you, Alastor let out a dramatic sigh he lifted you up in his arms. "Let's go so you can be back in tiptop shape."
Groaning, you nuzzled into his chest as you let out another cough. "T...thank you." Your voice raspy as your eyes slipped closed.
"Oh dear, you do not have to thank me."
Lucifer
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The moment you mentioned to Lucifer that you weren't feeling well the man whisked you away to the bedroom. He did his best to make you as comfortable as possible, he couldn't have the one he loved being sick.
Sitting on the bed, he pouted fixing the cold press on your head. You were still feeling warm, he hated that, he hated seeing you sick.
Flinching from your cough, he sat down on the edge of the bed holding your hand gently. "Do you need anything to eat? Drink?....how about another blanket?"
Letting out a weak laugh, you did your best to give him a smile as you squeezed his hand gently. "Can you cuddle me?"
Lucifer's eyes went wide for a moment though his gaze softened as he nodded his head. "Anything for you."
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