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#b: harry potter
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evoke - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 289
Hogwarts without James was miserable.
No. That wasn't true. It was..it was fine. But as Regulus exited the thestral-drawn carriage and approached the castle, it hit him over and over that James wasn't there.
"It's one year, baby," James had reassured him before he left, both of them clinging to each other. "I'll be waiting for you the entire time. Kick arse on your NEWTs and come back to me, yeah?"
But as confident as Regulus tried to be in his and James's relationship, every corner of the castle seemed to remind him of his boyfriend- seemed to evoke a feeling of unease and longing. He missed James. And how was he supposed to go so long without him?
The feast passed sluggishly, but he waited until he got to his dorm- now labelled Seventh Years before he opened the present he promised James he would wait to unwrap. He wasn't sure what would make him feel better, but he did it anyways, eager for even a small token of love.
So he was a bit let down and shocked to see a mirror in the wrapping. "What the-?" he stared to ask, before he realized it wasn't his reflection in the glass, but James's. "Jamie?" he asked, emotion flooding through him at once.
"You didn't think I'd wait a whole four months to see your beautiful face, love?" James grinned back at him through the mirror, his entire face alight. "I begged Sirius to let you borrow this for the year. He agreed as long as we didn't use it for anything unsavory."
Choking with laughter on unshed tears, Regulus murmured, "What Sirius doesn't know won't hurt him."
He fell asleep with the mirror by his pillow.
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starry-bi-sky · 3 months
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I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.
Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.
And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.
Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.
They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.
When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.
Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.
When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.
"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.
"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.
Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.
Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.
Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.
When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.
Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.
because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far
when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)
danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.
and god help him, he's going to help people.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#dpxdc prompt#this is just me torturing danny for a little bit because im stressed and i cried for an hour while i was driving so im taking it out on B#thanks for being my little stress ball danny#aha my old middle school habit of frankensteining two characters together is resurfacing again :) yall should've seen my wattpad drafts#in middle school. i had 50 of them and most of them were me combining two characters together to make one person and putting them in one au#my most memorable being skydoesminecraft and harry potter. THAT was a fun worldbuilding experience#do i think that growing up with the fentons would fix bruce/danny completely?? hurm. no. dont kid yallselves jazz is not a licensed#therapist not even at like. nine when she meets danny. she's not helping him through his trauma in the slightest. she's nagging.#she's his sister or sister-like figure before she's his therapist. would he be#*entirely* like canon bruce tho?? no. dannybruce is a mix of the both of them. but this is still the first post of the au and is more so#just me doing the equivalent of popping a stress ball so nothing is smoothed over. mostly im just trying to keep bruce's trauma prominent i#danny's character because he IS Bruce. i dont want him to just be 'danny with bruce's backstory but without any of the ugly bits'.#danny and bruce is used interchangeably because they're the same person but sorry if his personality feels imbalanced i came up with this o#the spot. was going to type more but the stress has left me. for now. watch ur back danny 👀
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slytherinslut0 · 6 months
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My Roman Empire is complicated arrogant openly sadistic men with power who only have eyes for you but will never admit it and fuck you like they hate you
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#welcome to my asylum #sumthins purrin and it aint my cat #oh how’d that picture get there?
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short666bread · 9 months
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risetherivermoon · 9 months
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James, age 9: hey mum? i have a question
Effie: hm? alright then, lay it on me
James: who would be a better father? me or barty?
Barty, age 8, with his arms folded, standing next to james: 😒
Effie: why are you asking this?
James: mum! its important
Effie: Ok! Barty,
James: WHAT?!?
Barty: WHAHAHA
Effie: hes more responsible, somehow
Barty, running out of the room excitedy: WOO I GET THE KIDS IN THE DIVORCE ITS BEEN SETTLED
James, going after him: WAIT WE NEED TO WORK OUT A CUSTODY SCHEDULE!! BARTY!!
Monty: kids??
Effie: i stopped questioning it a while ago
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POV: Draco and Hermione are silently judging the messy drunks at the Ministry Christmas Party.
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Dear, James -4
| part 1 part 2 part 3
Harry has seen his Papa in many states before, whether he remembers them or not is different, but he knows he was there.
He has never seen Papa as angry as he is now, clutching at the front door, rage rolling off him in the form of magic, causing the ceramic key and trinket holder near the door to crack and the wood under his feet to splinter. He can see how Papa is clutching at the door so hard his fingers turn white as he peaks into the front hallway.
Papa told him to stay in the kitchen, to continue eating, but he didn't listen, shoveling in the last of his cereal so it didn't get soggy in the milk before he carefully walked to the front door. Harry can't see who's past the door, Papa has the door mostly closed and his body in the opening. He wants to know so badly, he itches for it, but Papa always said that curiosity isn't a good thing. But Papa is also very angry right now, and maybe Harry can get a kick in before he's sent to his room...
"I heard of what happened... Mr.Black" The voice of the stranger paused between the words oddly, and Harry watched as the wood on the door started to peel from where his Papa was gripping it.
"Sadly I still insist, you have the wrong house. Please get off my property." Harry can see how Papa's jaw clenches, and well, Papa is wrong, he is a Mr.Black, and he did also get fired from his job recently. It was upsetting, but as Papa said, they still had enough money so that Harry could have seven children and those seven could have seven children each and they'd still be comfortable for life and then some.
He doesn't want to have seven kids though, but that's not important.
"I don't believe I am ever wrong," The voice said, and Harry wrinkled his nose. Apparently Papa has the same reaction because when he opened his mouth to speak, the stranger spoke again.
Harry is glad they have magic, as the ceramic piece by the door finally shattered, keys and rings and one of his mini plastic dinosaur from several years ago that he keeps forgetting about scattering along the surface of the hall table.
"You're son is very like you, despite appearances." Shit. Caught. He tried to shuffle back to where he wouldn't be seen, but Papa turned his head too quickly, a glare being pinned on him, and Harry couldn't help to shuffle in place before rushing up to his parent's side, holding the back of Papa's shirt. He's been caught already, why not ride it out?
"Get off of my property." Harry nods enthusiastically, frowning at the old man in front of him because his Papa is right and the man needs to go.
Though the stanger's beard is very long, it's funny, the grey compared to the colorful... something or other that the man is wearing. He still isn't welcome hear though.
"I have a job opening for you, Mr.Black." The man says and Papa rolls his eyes, groaning, giving up all pretenses of pretending. Harry would have kept with it though, if he was Papa, just until the man gave up.
"Oh? What a coincidence. I just get fired from my job as an astronomy professor and suddenly you're here, telling me you can solve my problems." Harry has to fight down a smile at his Papa's tone. So sassy.
The stranger raises an eyebrow, and Harry can feel the anger flare again, so he tries his best, leaning against Papa and he thinks it works. He can't feel it much anymore, but Papa is still so angry.
"I wouldn't know what you are implying Mr. Black."
"Really." Papa doesn't ask a question, keeping his glare and, personally, is Harry was in the strangers position he would have already been sent up to his room.
"I believe it would be best to talk about inside however." The stranger smiles and Harry can't point it out, he's never been too good at that, but it doesn't feel like a nice smile. Harry doesn't know how that's possible.
"How about you go and suck the dick of the lover you left rotting in prison again." Harry should tell Papa to put a coin in the swear jar, but he holds it in. It can be excused just this once he thinks. Papa deserves a swear once in the while.
The stranger doesn't say anything, just staring and staring until finally Papa bites out a "Fine." and lets the man in.
Harry would have just shut the door on the man, but oh well.
The stranger walks in like he knows where to go already, and after a few seconds Harry is surprised that the man does, walking right past them and going to the sitting room. Papa sighs and turns to Harry.
"I thought I told you to stay in the kitchen."
Harry shrugs, "You were taking too long."
Papa sighs and rolls his eyes, but still kisses the top of Harry's head as he passes while Harry hangs back, looking at what Papa will have to fix later, because despite Harry having a wand already and knowing how to use it, Papa says it's just for emergencies, and a few peeled pieces of wood, a cracked photo frame, and a broken ceramic is probably not an emergency. He bites his lip, but still turns to follow the older two into the sitting room.
When he gets there, Papa is on one side while the stranger is on the other. There's almost like an invisible line across the room and Harry doesn't hesitate before standing next to Papa.
"Did you get the letters?"
"Harry isn't going to Hogwarts."
The man raises an eyebrow as Harry looks up to his parent with a puzzled expression. He knew he wasn't going to Hogwarts, that's not what he's confused about, he already has most of his stuff for Beauxbatons anyways. What he doesn't understand is why the man is bringing it up.
"We need an astronomy professor, and with your recent gap of employment, I thought we could come to a conclusion Mr.Black."
"I'm perfectly fine where I am."
It's silent for a second before the stranger sighs, shaking his head, "I heard that another Mr.Black and a certain Mr.Potter are quite distraught as of late."
Harry watches as Papa stands up straighter, and he can't help the uncomfortable bubbly feeling in his stomach because Papa clearly doesn't like this man, and suddenly he's bringing up people who Harry knows he's related too. They've always been sensitive subjects when it come to his parent.
He looks down and tugs an arm away from being crossed against his chest and holds that hand. He thinks some moral support could help, but Papa still crumbles the same, letting his other arm drop and pushing his shoulders back as he stares at the man.
"What about them?"
Harry knows that his papa still cares about his brother and his ex, but Harry doesn't. He's never even met them for Merlin's sake, they never even bothered to visit or see either of them despite how lonely Papa has been.
Yes, they still have Aunt Pandora and her wife Aunt Lily, along with their daughter who is Harry's best friend, but Harry knows that Papa still misses them, from how he gets caught staring at the letter writing supplies late at night, how even after all this time Papa will stare at a photo album that Harry once managed to sneak a peak into only to see the so called family that left the both of them to fend for themselves. And Aunt Pandora. She was also in the photobook.
The stranger purses his lips, and Harry squeezes on his Papa's hand. "It seems they recently got a letter that was quite disturbing. Left them both in shambles, my dear boy."
Papa wrinkles his nose, but apparently let's whatever comment he had saved up go.
"A letter from the name Regulus Black."
"That's not new." Papa sounds bored, but Harry can tell by the sudden slight squeeze on Harry's hand.
"Ah, my boy, but it is. See, apparently they miss you. I've seen them for years, and despite everything now is the time they seem quite torn up."
Papa lets out a breath of air and Harry watches as his free hand clenches. He's almost tempted to reach over and hold that one too, but then he wouldn't be able to frown at the stranger. Somethings are a higher priority then helping his papa. Like discomforting this random old guy. He doesn't seem to be fazed, but Harry swears it's working.
"If they regretted it, a letter would have sufficed instead of you coming here."
"They believe it's been too late for far too long. I thought I'd go out of my way."
"I'm still not taking your shitty job, I'm fine right here. I can find another if needed."
The stranger walks closer, "Can you truly, Mr.Black?" The way he says it means something that Harry either doesn't know or hasn't caught onto yet, but one look at his parent and it seems like he's the only one, face paler then normal, eyes slightly wide as he stares as the other man. A noise of confusion escapes him and Papa's head shoots down, looking at him for a second before turning back.
"I can, I know I can."
The stranger smiles a little, like something Papa said was funny, and now the weird feeling in Harry's gut traveled up to his chest. What does the man mean? Why is he hurting Papa in their own home? Sure it might not be physically, but that's not the only way someone can hurt. He knows that, so why doesn't the stranger? Is it because that is what he is? Nothing but a stranger?
Papa's jaw clenches and his eye twitches in a way Harry doesn't think he's seen before, "What did you do?" The stranger doesn't answer though, smiling the same weird smile as he has in the past before speaking himself, already moving out of the room.
"I'm sure you'll make the right choice my boy."
Papa is still standing there as the front door shuts and Harry finally asks the question that has been on his mind since he saw the man.
"Who was that?"
| part 1 part 2 part 3
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wckdwtchx · 1 month
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⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀♱ ⠀⠀ᶜᵒʳᵛᵘˢ ᵒᶜᵘˡᵘᵐ ᶜᵒʳᵛᶤ ᶰᵒᶰ ᵉʳᵘᶤᵗ⠀ ⠀♱
Her 𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓 soul is ancient and black as the midnight sky. It will caress you to the Stars, while seducing you 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟.
Darkness envelops her heart and soul, the perfect Lestrange. Cruel and sadistic, not only her personality is strongly reminiscent of her infamous mother, but also her appearance. The typical long, dark hair, curly and thick, frames her face. Dark brown eyes that make the blood run cold, light shadows under her eyes that tell of how much she has experienced over the years. Her body is marked by scars, scars that remind her of the cruel deeds of her parents, of the many times she was shown that emotions are a weakness and that they must be driven out in order to become a strong, infamous and evil witch guided by dark magic and as a novice of the Dark Lord. - 𝐀𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐱 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞
𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮 and slow movements. She knew what the hell she is doing. Long days when she is brewing - A potion to make him wanna lose it. Shuts the door and kills the switch. Next thing he knows is he's tasting 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕡𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙.
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devdevlin · 6 months
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Cover art by Nurchie: Cat and Mouse
For Little Bird on AO3. Completed fic is now yours to devour 🖤
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regulussxblack · 30 days
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Severus snape
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rewritingcanon · 1 month
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thought for the day! andromeda getting drunk one night and asking teddy to metamorph into her daughter’s face so she can see her again. but when he does it there are some parts of her face that are just slightly off and wrong, because teddy hasn’t known his mother’s face past photos of her.
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Notoriety - Drarry
Harry Prefers to be known for some things more than others.
Warnings - a/b/o dynamics, alpha!harry, omega!draco, pwp, p in a smut, begging, slight d/s dynamics, i'm wary of tagging tbh don't want it taken down
Harry Potter is known for a lot of things. He has been since shortly after his first birthday.
He's known for defeating the Dark Lord twice, for fighting in a Wizarding War, for winning said war, for being the youngest Professor in Hogwarts, and for being Witch Weekly's most eligible bachelor for eighty-three consecutive weeks.
He's also known for being the coolest godfather ever, the best friend a man could have, and for being the most awesome professor ever. All three of these are the accomplishments Harry relishes in having, clinging to those compliments when the others attempt to be too heavy to carry.
He's been accused of many other things.
Never this. Never in his wildest dreams had he hoped or even allowed himself to hope for this.
Draco Malfoy was willingly in his company, willingly stepping between Harry's spread thighs with flushed red cheeks.
Things were tentative, still just new to them both.
"You have to be the most self-restrained Alpha I've ever come across," Draco murmured, lowering himself to his knees.
No one had ever accused Harry of having self-restraint. Especially not Hogwarts' newest Potion Master. The second youngest Professor to ever be employed by Hogwarts.
"Is that so?" Harry's voice had dipped several octaves, coming out closer to a growl as Draco rested his hands on Harry's thighs. He smelled overbearingly sweet, the scent resting on Harry's tongue and reminding him of Honeyduke's most decadent chocolate.
"I've never had the issue of having to beg before, Harry." Draco looked up through his lashes, biting on his bottom lip. "But if that's what it will take then I'm willing to."
Harry freed Draco's lip with his thumb, smoothing the teeth mark gently. Draco's eyes were almost black as he slipped the digit into his mouth, letting his tongue brush the pad of Harry's thumb.
"Isn't there a three-date rule?" Harry chuckled, pressing down on Draco's tongue, trapping it so he couldn't speak, could use the usual Malfoy snark. "I'm trying to be a gentleman, to court you."
In truth, Harry had wanted to bend Draco over the hardwood of his office desk that day he had approached Harry tentatively on his first day in Hogwarts. He had come to make amends as if Harry could hold a grudge against the man.
As if Harry had a choice. As if he hadn't been half in love with him since they were children. The obsessive stalking, the dreams that had plagued him since he had first presented at sixteen.
There was something confusing about wanking yourself raw every time he spotted the man he was supposed to hate so fervently. Especially in the midst of a war where they had fallen on opposites sides.
But this Draco Malfoy, Professor Draco Malfoy, was no angst-ridden teenager. He was for all intents and purposes, the most attractive Omega Harry had ever seen.
Long graceful limbs, hair that had been grown out just long enough for Harry to wrap his fist in, and an arse that Harry had a hard time taking his eye off.
Harry watched saliva pool along the sides of his thumb, dribbling down Draco's chin as Harry kept his thumb in place, keeping the Omega silent.
Draco mewled, his hands sliding further up his thighs to the button of the Alpha's slacks. Harry allowed Draco to undo his button but caught his hands with his free one when they moved to his zipper. He stared Draco down when he swallowed roughly and dipped his head slightly in deference.
"I'm trying to treat you as I should. Trying to be chivalrous, walking you back to your door every night, buying you flowers, and treating you like a proper Omega should be treated." Harry reminded him. He pressed harder down on Draco's tongue when he attempted to speak. Instead, a garbled moan fell from his lips.
Harry arched into Draco's hands, pressing them tighter to his crotch with his own hands. "Coming back to my own chambers and fucking my fist thinking of that tight little hole."
Draco's eyes rolled in his head as he began to suck on Harry's thumb in earnest, flexing his hands. "You don't want to be treated right, do you?"
Draco blinked, attempting to focus on Harry's words but he was too far gone, his arousal permeating the air like a vat of Amortentia. Harry inhaled deeply, his cock throbbing. Draco flexed his hands again.
"You don't want me to buy you flowers or drop you off at your chambers every night, do you? You want me to drag you back to my own chambers and fill that tight little hole, don't you?" Harry released Draco's hands, batting them away to undo his own zipper. He freed his cock with a hiss.
Draco's hands fell down by his side as his breath heaved and his eyes locked on the almost angry-looking tip of Harry's cock like he was a starving man. "So here's what we're going to do. You're going to prep yourself, get that tight little hole all wet and loose for me. I'm going to stroke my cock and if you're ready before I come then you can sit on my cock. If not, well then I guess it's your hard luck."
Harry released Draco's tongue, spreading the saliva on it over his cock and groaning to himself. Draco watched with rapt attention, quivering in place. Harry smirked, stroking himself from root to tip before Draco spurred into action.
He vanished his trousers and pants, rather than move from his kneeled position, and his scent's potency increased tenfold. Harry groaned again, speeding his hand up and twisting his wrist just how he liked it.
He'd had a lot of time to perfect his wanking ability, none more so than in the last three months since Draco had joined the faculty. He was surprised he hadn't given himself carpal tunnel with how often he had found himself thinking of Draco exactly like this.
The man in question was moaning loudly, bouncing on the fingers he had unceremoniously shoved inside himself. He was sweating, a red flush spreading down his chest. Harry had missed him vanishing his shirt.
"That's it, baby. Just like that." Harry grunted, fucking up into his fist. "Show me how you fuck yourself while thinking of me."
Draco's eyes rolled in his head but he focused on Harry's cock again, adding another finger if his moan was anything to go by. Harry pressed his thumb against the gland that ran the length of his cock and bucked up again, clenching his jaw.
Draco appraised him with hooded eyes before deciding he'd had enough and scrambled up to straddle Harry's lap. When Harry attempted to push his trousers down Draco shook his head, one hand replacing Harry's and dropping himself down on Harry's cock.
"Let me get these off." Harry insisted, hand on his trousers again. Draco shook his head, freezing on Harry's cock as he bottomed out. His arse clenched and the tight heat had Harry restraining himself from thrusting up.
"Leave 'em on. It's hotter." Draco insisted. Harry smirked at Draco's very obvious interest in this power play, leaving him at Harry's mercy. before he could tease Draco about it his words were cut off by a loud growl as Draco began to bounce on Harry's cock.
"So good, so fucking good." Draco whimpered, falling forward to press his face against Harry's bonding gland, inhaling deeply.
"So fucking tight, Jesus Draco." Harry couldn't fight the urge, wrapping an arm around Draco's waist and fucking up into him. Draco was babbling incoherently now, every second word was Harry's name.
Slick dripped down Harry's cock, a sticky mess on his balls and thighs and he was sure that he'd smell of Draco for days to come, all of which drove Harry to fuck into Draco harder and faster.
"Please, please," Draco begged against Harry's neck, his hot breath making Harry's hair stand on end. "Knot me, knot me, knot me."
"That what you want, baby? You want to be the perfect little Omega, taking my knot, huh?" Harry growled against Draco's shoulder before biting down on the soft flesh.
Draco howled, babbling incomprehensibly again. Harry could feel the beginning of his knot, that familiar heat that had his eyes clenching shut. "Don't know if it'll fit, if you can handle me."
"Please, I can. It will fit." Draco wailed desperately. "I'll be so good, I promise. Alpha, please."
Harry tilted his head back as he thrust up, pushing the knot into Draco who screamed. Harry thrust shallowly, pulling at Draco's abused rim. "Please, please."
Three more shallow thrusts had Draco clenching down impossibly tight and cumming between their bodies. He sagged against Harry, hitching sobs as Harry continued to fuck into him, chasing his own release.
"Wan' it, Alpha. Please." Draco whimpered, clenching around Harry's knot. Harry gave in, allowing the sensation to pull him under, his hands clenching into Draco's hips as his vision whited out and he came.
When Harry blinked his eyes open again he smiled gently down at the Omega who was purring contentedly in Harry's arms. Hary stroked a hand up and down Draco's sweat-slicked back and the Omega sat up, clenching accidentally around Harry's knot.
He wore a soft smile, bashful after everything. Harry raised a hand to cup his cheek and pulled him into a sweet kiss, more than aware he hadn't kissed Draco since they were leaving the restaurant they had dinner in.
"Sweet boy." Harry hummed when he pulled away. Draco groaned, attempting to hide his smile in Harry's hand. "How do you feel?"
"So good." Draco stretched, clenching down on Harry again. This time it wasn't an accident. "Think you can go again, old man?"
"You're older than me." Harry protested with a laugh. "'sides, maybe we should let this knot go down first."
"Why?" Draco asked, bouncing himself shallowly. His own cock began to stir with interest and Harry felt his breath catch as he looked over his Omega.
His head was thrown back, one hand against Harry's chest for balance and the other on his own cock. "Alpha, my Alpha."
That one might be Harry's favorite thing to be known for these days.
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impishtubist · 1 year
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happy birthday, reese <3
For @r33sespieces :) 
---
“Shh, no, you have to be quiet.” 
Sirius pauses outside Harry’s room, cocking his head. Harry’s been holed up in there since shortly after dinner, but Sirius hadn’t thought too much of it. It’s been pissing down all afternoon, and Sirius figured both of them could use a lazy day. For his part, he took a luxurious nap earlier, and the newest book in a romance series he’s been following arrived by owl post this morning. He’s looking forward to curling up with it in front of the fire. If he’s lucky, maybe Harry will come downstairs with his chess set later and ask to play a game together.
There’s a whine from behind the closed door, and then a soft yip. Sirius blinks.
“Hazza,” he says, rapping his knuckles softly on the door, and he hears Harry curse. “Everything alright?”
“Fine!” Harry says quickly. “I’m just--”
He’s interrupted by a loud bark, and Sirius’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline.
“Can I come in?” he asks, and he hears Harry sigh.
“Yeah.” 
Harry’s standing over by the bed, dripping wet and clutching a soaked brown-and-white puppy against his chest. 
“Well, hello,” Sirius says as he steps into the room. “Who’s this?”
“Dunno,” Harry says, cuddling the puppy close and shrinking away when Sirius takes a step forward. Sirius freezes. “Found him out in the garden.” 
“Poor thing,” Sirius says. It’s been miserable outside for two days now. “Can I take a look at him?”
“Why?” Harry asks, instantly suspicious. 
“I just want to make sure he’s okay, that he doesn’t have any injuries or anything like that.” Sirius starts to pull out his wand, but Harry backs away, so he quickly pockets it. “Can we sit down?”
They sit on the circular rug in the middle of Harry’s bedroom, and Harry gently places the puppy in front of him. The puppy shivers, and then takes a few uncertain steps. He’s wobbly, but that seems to be due to how young he is, not any injuries. Sirius puts out his hand, and the puppy sniffs him. His tail wags.
“Aren’t you mad?” Harry asks softly, not meeting Sirius’s eyes.
“I’m not thrilled you snuck a puppy in here without talking to me first,” Sirius says. “But no, Harry, I’m not mad. If you’d told me you’d found him in the garden, I would’ve had you bring him inside, too. We can keep him warm and dry for a night, and then tomorrow we’ll take him to a shelter. Speaking of, can I dry him off? He’s shivering. You as well, kiddo.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Harry nods, and Sirius pulls out his wand. He performs a quick drying spell, and then a cleaning charm, and then casts a heating spell over both Harry and the puppy.
“I bet he’s hungry,” Sirius says. “Why don’t you bring him down to the kitchen, and we can feed him?”
Harry hesitates again, then gathers the puppy in his arms and goes down to the kitchen, Sirius following them. He doesn’t know what exactly is causing Harry’s reluctance, but he has a suspicion. 
He cuts up some leftover chicken for Harry to feed the puppy, and then goes into Remus’s office to gather up the rope toys Moony likes to use, as well as the crate he sometimes curls up in to nap off the Wolfsbane during full moons. Harry eyes the crate warily when Sirius comes back into the kitchen.
“So he’ll have somewhere warm and safe to sleep tonight,” Sirius says. “I doubt he’s house-trained, and sorry mate, but I don’t fancy him pissing all over the house all night.” 
Harry reluctantly nods. “Yeah, okay.” 
The puppy eats and drinks his fill, and then Harry entices him to play with one of the rope toys. Sirius can’t help the smile that touches his lips as he watches them, the puppy having the time of his life and Harry giggling--giggling!--while they play.
The puppy eventually tires himself out and falls asleep curled up in Harry’s lap. 
“There was a dog in the Dursleys’ garden once.” Harry’s not looking at him. He strokes one of the puppy’s ears with a gentle finger. “She was a stray. I brought her scraps from the table whenever Aunt Petunia sent me outside to do chores.” 
Scraps that Harry had probably needed for himself, but he’d split them with a stray instead. His heart ached. “That was really kind of you, Hazza.”
“She was my first friend,” Harry says softly. “My only friend. She lived in the garden for most of the summer, until Dudley found out about her.” 
“Oh, Harry.”
“He and his friends chased her off. Hit her with sticks and threw rocks at her. I never saw her again.” 
“She probably found a home,” Sirius says. “She sounds friendly. I’m sure someone took her in.”
“Yeah,” Harry says. “I hope so.” 
Sirius hears the Floo roar, and then Remus calls out a hello.
“In here, Remus,” he says.
Remus comes into the kitchen, and his eyes widen. “Well, you two were certainly busy today.” 
“Harry found him in the garden,” Sirius says. “The weather’s shite. I don’t see a problem with letting him stay tonight, and then we’ll take him to a shelter tomorrow.”
“Sure, of course we will,” Remus says, sounding amused. 
The puppy wakes himself up with a yawn, and then eyes Remus curiously. He gets out of Harry’s lap and trots over to the other man, sniffing him curiously. Remus holds very still--animals tend to have very strong reactions to him. Either they adore him, or they’re terrified of him. 
The puppy is apparently in the former category, because his tail starts to wag and he lets out a series of happy yips. Remus crouches down to pet him. 
“You’re a handsome fellow, aren’t you,” he says. “Yes, you are. And much better behaved than Padfoot.”
“You hear how he talks to me, Harry?” 
Harry laughs, and Sirius wishes he could bottle the sound. It doesn’t happen enough.
Harry and the puppy are inseparable for the rest of the evening. Remus keeps throwing Sirius significant looks that he tries to ignore. They’re not getting a pet. Hedwig is enough. In the morning, they’ll take the puppy to the nearest shelter, and Sirius will personally make sure he goes to a good home. 
When it comes time for bed, Harry lines the crate with plenty of blankets and sets the puppy inside. He closes the door and locks it, and the puppy immediately begins to whimper.
Harry chews on his bottom lip. “You’re sure he’s going to be alright in there?” 
The puppy whines, and Harry looks distraught. Remus squeezes his shoulder.
“He’ll be fine. He’s got toys and water and soft blankets. He’ll probably make a mess, but that’s alright. That’s what magic is for. He’ll settle down as soon as we all leave him be.” 
***
The puppy cries for an hour after they all retire upstairs. 
Sirius stares at the ceiling. He’s not going to give in and check on the puppy. He’s not. 
“Don’t even think it, Sirius,” Remus murmurs from his side of the bed.
“I’m not,” Sirius says. “It’s just--do you think he’s cold?”
“We gave him blankets and cast a heating charm.” 
“Maybe he’s hurt.”
“You checked him over before bed. He’s perfectly fine.” Remus rolls over and rests his head on Sirius’s chest. “He’ll settle down eventually.”
Remus is right--the puppy does eventually quiet down. Remus’s breathing evens out soon after that, and Sirius quickly follows him into sleep.
Sirius wakes up before dawn, his new normal, and pads downstairs to make some tea. Harry will sleep for at least another couple of hours, and they won’t see Remus until almost noon. 
But when he comes into the kitchen, the first thing he notices is his godson curled up on the floor. The crate is open, and the puppy is nestled in Harry’s arms, also fast asleep. 
“Sirius?” Remus comes up behind him, knuckling his eyes. 
“What are you doing up?” Sirius whispers.
“Needed a piss, and the bed’s cold without you. What--” Remus finally catches sight of Harry and the puppy, and immediately softens. “Oh.” 
“That’s why the puppy stopped whining last night, I bet.” 
“Probably,” Remus says. He wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist and props his chin on Sirius’s shoulder, though he has to stretch to reach it. “You can’t make him go to a shelter.”
“No,” Sirius sighs. “I won’t. Looks like we’ve got a pet, Moons.” 
“Looks like it. Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to write to the Board of Governors,” Sirius says. “I have six weeks to persuade them to add dogs to the list of approved pets for Hogwarts students.”
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spicypepperjack · 9 months
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HC on the eve of Gwen and the Spider-Band leaving for Earth-42, Peter B. catches Gwen sitting on the edge of a building by herself. As he approaches, he notices her staring at the polaroid selfie of her and Miles.
As he sits down next to her, Peter B. says, “So, all of this is for him?”
Gwen quickly glances at Peter, then goes back to gaze at the photo silently. Peter smiles slightly and asks, “After all this time?”
“Always,” Gwen replies.
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risetherivermoon · 10 months
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barty, randomly: you know, maybe i should punch that stone wall until my knuckles bleed
james, who is begrudingly attracted to this, but worried: how about i give you a hug instead
barty: can it be a knife filled hug?
james: im sorry, a what now?
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clockworkbee · 10 months
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When character A needs to tell character B something but they hold back in that moment thinking “there will be time” and the readers just know, ‘no, there won't be time.’ The way that makes me feel is just unmatched.
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