2023 Tumblr Top 10
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Steve is a beast
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Niall Horan The Show World Tour info
Pre sale:
Album pre-order (UK, DE, IE, PL, IT, NL, AUS, NZ, FR, ES, SE) and Citi/AAdvantage pre-sale (NA) are on May 30
Newsletter pre-sale is on May 31
TikTok (NA, UK, EU), Live Nation, and Spotify pre-sales are on June 1
Details:
Album pre-order presale begins May 30. Fans who have pre-ordered ‘The Show’ from their local official store by May 29 in the UK, Germany, Ireland, Poland, Italy, Holland, Australia, France, Spain, Belgium, New Zealand* and Sweden*. Please visit your local official store for more details.
Citi® / AAdvantage® is the official presale credit card of Niall Horan’s The Show Live On Tour 2024 in North America. As such, Citi / AAdvantage cardmembers will have access to purchase presale tickets in the US and Canada beginning May 30 at 10AM local time through Citi Entertainment. For complete presale details visit www.citientertainment.com.
Artist presale for all dates globally begins May 31. Sign up for the official mailing list for updates.
TikTok presale begins June 1 for the US†, Canada, UK and Europe tour dates. Follow @niallhoran on TikTok by May 31 to be eligible.
*Pre-order from JB HiFi for access to presale in New Zealand and from Bengans for access to presale in Sweden
†Does not include Kansas City, MO or Rogers, AR dates
General Sale:
General onsale begins June 2nd at 10am local time https://www.niallhoran.com
Ticket Prices:
EU & UK VIP packages:
GA Early Entry package
Premium Seated package
link
North America VIP packages:
VIP Lounge Package
Premium VIP Package
link
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I probably can't do all of them, but I promised @kit-williams that I'd at least do Dorn. So here I am.
Summary: Rogal Dorn knows what you are (ovulating)
Word Count: 1164
Content Warnings: BREEDING, that hormone smelling stuff they can do I suppose, office sex, more anatomically incorrect stuff because apparently y'all are into that, praise, female reader
Image Credit: @squishyowl
The office was large and suffocating. Of course it was, it was built for a man maybe twice your size. You'd forgone the crowded halls of his wing of the Imperial Palace and shut the door. You'd quickly noticed that you were at eye level with the desk at which your husband worked. He was out of his normal golden armor, this time sporting a simple shirt and leather trousers. He turned his head at the sudden noise, first looking at the door before looking down at you.
"Why do you call me in?" you asked, slowly pacing towards him.
He slid his papers to the side, crinkling them before turning to you. He slipped his hands under your arms and picked you up, setting you on his desk. He ran his hands along your sides, pushing your shirt up. He was silent for a few moments before he spoke.
"You're fertile," he said. His voice was deep and reverent as he moved a hand up to your face. "I can smell it on you."
You felt your heart speed up in your chest. "Oh?" you asked, putting a hand over his. His hand engulfed you, and yours was laughably small against his.
"My lady," he said. "If I could have you here, would you be willing?"
You looked up at him. Even when he was sitting in front of you, you had to turn your neck to look up at him. His expression was ever stoic, but there was a softness in his eyes that you didn't see often. With his hand in place, he ran a thumb down your cheek.
"Please," you replied softly.
He leaned in, hands placed close to your legs. You wrapped your legs around him as he went in for the kiss. He was rough with you, his tongue soon parting your lips. You let out a whimper, grabbing at his shirt to pull him closer. His hands trailed up your sides, pulling at your shirt. He pulled away, looking down at you.
"Your shirt, my lady."
You lifted your arms as he pulled it off of you. It fell to the floor, out of sight and out of mind. He fiddled with the clasp of your bra before unclasping it, pulling it off of you with ease. One hand slid along your body, and the other caged you underneath him. You shuddered as your face went warm, placing your hands on his chest before he began to gnaw at your collarbone and you relented. Your hands ran through his cropped hair as he pressed kisses against you, leaving marks with some of them.
"Nngh... Rogal..." you moaned.
"Quiet," he commanded. "There are people outside."
You yelped as he bit your nipple, thankfully not hard enough to puncture you there. He stayed there for a while before he moved to the other one, giving it the same treatment. Despite the fact that you were wearing pants, you felt a finger press between your legs. You let out another moan, high pitched and feeble, before he released you and tugged at your pants. Before you knew it, they were off, along with your underwear, and his head was between your legs.
"Lay down, my lady," he cooed.
You looked behind you. There were papers and inkwells there. "But your papers..." you said quietly.
He slid his office supplies to the side, and you slowly laid back on the desk. It was hard against you, but the feeling of your husband between your legs more than made up for it. His tongue soon grazed your entrance, and you let out another moan.
He pulled back for a brief moment. "Remember. There are people outside."
He pushed himself in deeper, holding you down at each side. You writhed in his grip, holding onto his forearms like a lifeline. He pushed himself in until you came on him for the first time, his name on your lips as you threw your head back in pleasure.
He pulled back after a while, looming over you. You were out of breath as you looked up at him. His hands left your sides to push his pants down slightly to reveal himself to you. He was thick and throbbing, and let you look for a few moments before pressing himself against your entrance.
"Please," you cooed as he rubbed himself on you. You grabbed his shirt and looked up at him.
"Come sit on me," he said, taking you off of the table and placing you on his lap. He lowered you down on him, prompting yelps and squeals from you. You were stretching out on him, a bulge forming in your stomach. You buried your head in his chest as you sunk down on him, muffling your moans. With one hand he brought you down, with the other he ran his hand through your hair.
"You're taking me so well, my lady," he grunted as he slid all the way in. He kept you there on him for a few moments, running his hand up and down your back before sliding his hands to your hips to lift you up. You could only choke out muffled moans in response.
A rare smirk dusted his face. "You look gorgeous like this," he said, pulling you down again. He went in a little easier this time, and you stretched out a little less. Your face scrunched up against him and you clutched his shirt even tighter.
"Rogal..." you managed to choke out, stars in your eyes.
"What is it?" he asked, pushing himself in and out. You looked up at him and opened your mouth to speak, but you were only able to manage a loud moan. He let out a chuckle as he drilled you even faster. You looked up at him as he planted a kiss to the top of your head.
He had a Primarch's endurance, and while you knew he was enjoying himself, you got the idea that all he wanted was to pump himself into you one last time, filling you up. You lost track of time as he worked you on that chair, until he started to speed up. By this time you were practically a drunken mess on him, eyes drooping in euphoria.
"How much do you want this?" he asked, finally starting to show signs of tiring.
You couldn't formulate a coherent sentence, instead letting out more pitiful moans. Your hands and head were pressed against him, anchoring you.
He smirked as he released himself inside of you. You squealed as he throbbed inside of you, releasing more with every pulse. He held you down on him, staring intently down at you as your eyes scrunched shut. While liquid dripped down your legs, he held you close to him, once again running a hand up and down your back.
"I could not have asked for a better mother to my children," he said as you leaned into him.
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*Pixelated* [fluffbruary-ing 🐇 2024]
Chapter 1
[2.1 prompt: clinic]
...................................
John stands next to the kitchen table, his recently charged laptop tucked into the crook of his elbow, strangely reluctant to set it down and get about the business of setting up a zoom call. It's not the call itself that is problematic: oddly enough, it's the fact that the table's surface is completely empty.
There's no need to wrangle space for the computer -- to try and wedge it in amidst the footprint of a large and unwieldy microscope, dubious solutions and dodgy specimens in fragile glassware, and an aggravating assemblage of Sherlockian detritus. The microscope, the dubious and the dodgy, the aggravating detritus, and the man himself are all resident elsewhere -- Sherlock having reluctantly slipped away just under the lockdown deadline to rusticate with his elderly parents, so as to be close at hand due to the unpredictability of the threats posed by the spread of COVID-19.
[ Read the rest here: continued at ao3. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged :-) ]
xoxoxo to the @fluffbruary honor guard for providing guidance and infectious enthusiasm in spreading fandom fluff to one and all: [prompt list]
@totallysilvergirl
@mydogwatson
@calaisreno
@keirgreeneyes
@helloliriels
@blogstandbygo
@fluffbruary
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