#grey’s blurb

[phefics]

i know that you’re spent, just let me sing you to sleep

an empty on-call room with the lights off, pristine white sheets on bunk beds, trying to fall asleep with the sound of beeping monitors, heavy footfalls, and panicked voices bleeding through the door…it wasn’t ideal, but it had been george’s life throughout the entirety of his internship so far.

but when he finally gets to leave the hospital, he doesn’t return to his bedroom at meredith’s house. instead, he shows up at your door, dark circles beneath his eyes and a sleepy smile curled on his lips.

you crawl into bed with him, his head resting on your shoulder.

“tough shift?” you ask, stroking his hair.

he nods, nuzzling into your neck. “i’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

“sounds like a plan,” you reply, pressing a little kiss to his forehead.

as george dozes off, you find yourself humming softly, something he had once mentioned helps him sleep after a particularly hard day.

you hum a familiar tune, something you’d heard on the radio, until george’s breath is steady, his body relaxed. it doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, too.

[toasttt11]

jewelry

May 18, 2023

Luke quickly jumped out to the car the second he parked it not seeing the bewildered looks from Quinn and Jack.

“Moose why did you drag us out here so early!” Jack whined dramatically.

Luke having stayed the night at Jack’s apartment, having spent the day just hanging out with his brothers after he dropped off Grey at the airport in the morning but he made Jack wake up early and Quinn was already up and pushed them to the car and he drove them thirty minutes away from Jack’s apartment.

“What are we doing?” Quinn curiously questioned not minding Luke dragging them around having missed him doing that.

“I got my first check the other day.” Luke told them as he continued walking down the sidewalk. Luke having got his first payment from being in the NHL.

“Ohhh! Are you gonna to buy something?” Jack perked up, he remembered when he got his first check and bought something absolutely ridiculous.

“I am.” Luke confirmed as he got to the shop was looking for and opened the door walking in.

Jack looked at the store name and furrowed his eyebrows, “Why are you going into a jewelry store?”

“To buy jewelry.” Luke chirped not even looking at his brothers and walking forwards ans looking down at the cases, specifically the rings.

“Are you buying a ring!” Quinn quickly realized and stood next to Luke where he was looking at the rings.

“You’re gonna propose!” Jack dramatically whispered looking like he was gonna faint, either from shock or happiness.

“No, i’m buying the ring to one day propose to her.” Luke wanted his first purchase with his first check from the NHL be to buy a ring for Grey.

“How can we help you today sir?” The woman employee walked up the the brothers.

“I’d like to buy this ring.” Luke knew exactly what Grey wants, something small and simple but is also small enough she can wear on a necklace when racing.

Luke was smiling the whole time as he got rung up and he happily paid the amount for the ring and he protectively put it in his pocket.

Jack and Quinn were waiting for Luke on the other side do the store watching him buy an engagement ring for his girlfriend.

“It’s so weird seeing him growing up so fast.” Jack commented having felt like Luke’s been growing extremely fast the last few years, he still remembers his little brother who would follow him around everywhere.

“Yeah, try seeing both of you.” Quinn responded, having watched both of them grow up and remembered when they use to sneak into his room and cuddle him in his bed when they were little.

“Eli would have love this.” Jack softly spoke, everyone knowing how much Elijah wanted Grey and Luke to be together and knew how much Luke and Grey are sad that Elijah never got to see them together.

“He would.” Quinn smiled sadly, Elijah always was the one saying that Luke and Grey were perfect for each other and was always convinced the two would get together one day.

[bookishcarmela]

Masterlist

started: 11/22/23

last edited: 7/20/24

Coriolanus snow x reader

ch1 ch2 ch3 ch4 ch5 ch6 ch7

pairings: jacaerys velaryon x targ!reader, aemond targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: Princess Y/n, the eldest daughter of Daemon and Laena Targaryen, faces a tumultuous life after her mother's death. Her father marries Rhaenyra Targaryen, and Y/n is betrothed to Rhaenyra's eldest son, Jacaerys. Over time, Y/n and Jacaerys grow to love each other deeply. However, their lives are thrown into turmoil when Y/n unexpectedly reunites with her cousin, Aemond igniting new emotions. As the threat of war looms, Y/n grapples with her feelings and the competing demands of love, duty to her family, and her betrothal to Jacaerys. She must navigate this emotional and political minefield to find her true path amidst the chaos.

ch1 ch2 ch3

[freedomfireflies]

hi, i saw that you’re accepting requests and i’d really think you’d be the best to write this if you can. so i’ve been watching a lot of greys anatomy lately and i’m always thinking of harry as a patient. so could you do like a greys anatomy resident reader x harry ou blurb where harry is famous and all that just his normal self and reader is a resident at seattle grace hospital. so maybe reader and harry are secretly dating or engaged and when harry gets hit in the eye with the skittles he goes to the hospital to get checked out and reader takes care of him extra carefully and dotes on him and maybe meredith and christina and lexie see them and start to put the pieces together and all of that? idk if this made any sense whatsoever but if it did i really hope you can write something abt it 🥰 (also sorry this was so long lol) also, could you use the season 5 greys cast but have it be set in 2022? ahhh sorry if it sounds stupid and confusing 🤣

“It’s her face. No, look at it. Right there, it’s doing that weird, red, splotchy thing—”

“She doesn’t have hives, Cristina, just give her the water bottle and she’ll be fine—”

“No, I’ve seen this before, this is bad. This is really, really bad.” Cristina extends her hand to grasp onto the bottom of your jaw and tilt your head up for examination. “Are you having trouble swallowing?”

You swallow. “Uh…no, but…Cristina, I’m fine, I just...I was just...I wasn't even—”

“Mhm. Incoherent thoughts, got it,” Christiana replies, nodding as she glances down at her chart. “What about your heart? Does it feel like it’s racing? Can you breathe? Do you feel flushed? Nauseated? Dizzy?”

“Cristina,” Meredith laughs, attempting to wrangle the woman away from you. “You’re scaring her.”

“Good. She should be scared. What we’re dealing with is terminal,” Cristina retorts, and your eyes widen. 

“I…I feel fine,” you try again, but Cristina’s inquisitive and invasive stare immediately returns to you, drilling right through your pupil.

“Tell me…have you ever heard of Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire Syndrome?” she asks, in absolute all seriousness.

Meredith rolls her eyes while you blink.

“Uh…what?”

Cristina studies you carefully for a moment before nodding her chin at something just over your shoulder. “It’s quite deadly if not treated…immediately.”

“Cristina, what the hell are you talking about?” Meredith sighs, now moving to stand beside you.

“See, I thought I saw her exhibit some symptoms when we first wheeled him in,” Cristina begins to explain. “But I chalked it up to the side effects of celebrity sightings. The green eyes, the curly hair, the tattoos. You know, if you like that sort of thing.”

Shit. You swallow again.

“But then, her face started doing the same thing that it’s doing now,” she continues on, and you stumble over a shaky breath as Meredith turns to look at you. “So, I thought I’d keep her under observation…just to make sure she wasn't gonna keel over and die...and after a few tests, you wouldn’t believe what I discovered.”

Shit, shit, shit. She saw.

Meredith looks between you and Cristina now, desperate to be clued in. “Well?”

Cristina raises a brow at you, indicating the answer is yours to divulge.

But you can’t.

You promised.

“I…I was just trying to be nice to him,” you answer, the excuse burning its way out of your throat. “I thought he was probably…you know, nervous. Maybe a little overwhelmed—”

“Yeah, see, lying is also one of the symptoms of the disease,” Cristina interrupts. “Mhm, we lose millions of people a year to it.”

Torn between doubling down and just giving up, you look between them.

Then…you groan.

“Okay,” you huff as Cristina crosses her arms. “Fine. All right? You win. I’m fucking him. Happy?”

Meredith’s eyebrows just about fly up her forehead as she slips her hands into her coat pockets. “Oh.”

“Wow, look at that, you’re cured,” Cristina muses, tucking the chart under her arm. “Although, I can’t say the same for the raging case of stupidity.”

“Cristina,” Meredith scolds, but you simply shake your head with defeat.

“No, she’s right. I know better,” you concede, running a hand down the side of your face. “I just…when you said he was being brought in, I got worried something bad had happened, and I freaked out…and, I don’t know. I think I was just relieved to know he was okay.”

Cristina blinks. “Ew.”

With a smirk, Meredith shakes her head. “I think it’s cute.”

Cristina looks at her. “Ew.”

“Look, I promise it won’t happen again,” you finish as you meet Cristina’s eye, desperate to put this embarrassing afternoon behind you.

“Well, I would hope not,” Chrstina snorts. “Bailey would have an aneurysm, and then I would be stuck working with McDreamy all by myself, which is absolutely not happening—”

Suddenly, Meredith puts a hand on her friend's shoulder and begins to encourage her to step back. “You know, actually…Cristina and I have a few things we need to go do. All of a sudden, right now. So...would you mind going ahead and discharging the patient for us?”

Cristina looks at her, confused and unimpressed. “I’m sorry, what?”

In turn, Meredith shoots her an incredibly pointed look. “Yeah, you know…we’ve gotta do that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing—”

Cristina scoffs. “We don’t have a thing—”

“Yes, we do," Meredith insists. "The thing…with Alex…and the thing—”

“Okay, I’m sorry, did you hit your head? Or something? Because we don’t have a thing with Evil Spawn. Why on Earth would we have a thing with Evil Spawn? We never have things with Evil Spawn, that’s…I don’t even wanna imagine having a thing with Evil Spawn—”

“Cristina,” Meredith hisses until Cristina stops and looks at her.

“Oh.” She blinks, seeming to come to some sort of realization before she turns to you. “So...we have a thing. With Evil Spawn.”

Finally catching on to their attempt at discretion, you smile. “Right, okay. Well…good luck with your thing.”

“Yeah, thanks. Hey—” Cristina adds, just before Meredith can drag her down the hall. “No funny business. Okay? I don’t wanna come back and see something that’s gonna give me nightmares. Or a migraine. Or both.”

Flushing yet again, you nod quickly. “No, I wasn’t…we aren’t…that’s not—”

“Cristina,” Meredith tries for a third time with a defeated exhale. “Let’s go.”

“Fine. Fine.” Cristina steps back but not before offering you one last look of warning. “Seriously. I mean it, Junior.”

Your nose scrunches at the less than affectionate nickname before Meredith finally succeeds in dragging Cristina down the hall and out of sight. But you don’t miss Cristina’s comments that echo between the walls as they go. “God, it’s just gross. We were never like that. No, we were not. I mean, I don’t see the appeal. Does he sing when he comes? Is that, like…a thing? God, poor Lexipedia. She’s gonna be crushed—”

Despite yourself, you smile and exhale a relieved breath before turning on your heel to make your way for Harry’s room.

“—I loved it, I thought it was really sweet,” Lexie is saying as you walk through the door, smiling giddily at the man on the bed. “I mean, I’m…I’ve been keeping up with your tour. Not like…keeping up. Like, not in a creepy way or anything. I just…I saw. The posts. And…the stuff. You posted. And TikTok. The outfits and everything. Which I loved. And the album. I love the album. I tried showing it to my friend Mark. Well, he’s…I mean, he’s one of the doctors here. Mark Sloan? I don’t know if you…met him. He’s…yeah, he’s my friend. We’re friends. Just…just friends. Which is fine. I’m fine with it—”

You watch as Harry nods along with every unnecessary bit of information to spill from her mouth, grinning to yourself at his strained attempt to appear interested.

Which, to be fair, he probably is.

“—and he liked it, I think. He’s not really…you know, he doesn’t really get excited about a lot of things, but I think he liked it,” she says, sighing some before she seems to notice you out of her peripheral. “Oh! Hi. Sorry, I was just…I wanted to check in. See if he needed anything.”

“She’s been very sweet,” Harry adds, nodding his thanks to the excited woman now scrambling to her feet as she heads for the door. “I really appreciate it, Dr. Grey, thank you.”

“Oh, no problem. No problem…at all,” she beams, eyes falling down to the floor as if to hide the giddy expression on her face. “Yeah, so I’ll just…yeah. I’ll go. So nice to meet you, Mr. Styles. Sir. Mr…yeah. Okay. Bye.”

She forces herself from the room, quickly spinning around to race down the hall as you swallow a laugh and finally return your attention to the man in question.

He sits, perched on the edge of the small bed, a rather triumphant grin on his face.

Doing your best to remain professional, you pull a small light from your coat pocket and step up to him. “Okay, let’s see the damage.”

His lips press into a smug smile as you tilt his head back and dip down to examine his eye. You flick the flashlight back and forth across his pupil, searching for any signs of scratching or trauma as he waits patiently beneath you. 

“Looks good,” you muse quietly. “Does it hurt?”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “No.”

“What is it you said hit you?”

The smirk deepens. “Uh…some sort of candy, I think. Maybe a Skittle?”

Surprised, you lean back, hand dropping to your side. “I—what? Who the fuck was throwing Skittle’s at you?”

He shrugs once, rather nonchalant about the whole affair. “They just get a little excited, I guess. Maybe they thought I needed a snack.”

You snort as you pocket the light. “You really need to start setting some ground rules if you’re gonna let people stand that close to you. Okay, this really could have done more permanent damage. You’re really lucky it seems to have only hit your eyelid, but if it had been any closer—”

Suddenly, his fingers are slipping around the backs of your thighs to sneak you closer to him, easily and effortlessly settling you between his legs as you swallow a gasp.

He gazes up at you adoringly, thumbs rubbing circles over your scrubs as you swallow. “What are you doing?”

“Just…trying to get better,” he responds, lashes batting innocently. “Is there a problem? Doctor?”

Your lids narrow. “Okay, very funny. You can let go now.”

“Yeah…no.”

“Harry—”

“What?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek and anxiously glance over your shoulder to make sure the coast is clear. “We had a deal—”

“Right, and we still do,” he agrees. “I’m just looking at you. S’not breaking any rules, is it?”

You huff yet again. “Patients don’t normally hold their doctor’s like this. Except the old, creepy, pervy ones.”

He exhales a laugh. “Fine. Do you want me to let go?”

No. God, no. Never. “Yes, before Bailey shows up, and fires me.”

He studies you for a moment before obliging and bringing his hands back to his own lap. “So…am I all good to go?”

Swallowing the disappointment creeping up the back of your throat, you nod once. “Yeah, everything looks good. Maybe wear some sunglasses next time you’re on stage, though.”

He nods as well. “Great, so…I’ll go, then.”

“Mhm.”

He stands as you step back to make room.

The room grows silent. Eerily silent as a hundred missed opportunities pass between you.

Then, he reaches for his jacket. “Thank you for everything, Doc.”

Why the fuck does this feel so wrong, you can’t help but ask yourself. “Yeah, no problem.”

You don’t want him to be upset at you. But there’s a reason you made this arrangement. A reason you decided to keep your relationship to sex only. No feelings, no getting personal, no obligations.

But even despite all of that…you still felt your heart ache when you saw his name on the board. When you’d heard the passing comment that Harry Styles was being rushed to the hospital for treatment. 

Your mind had run rampant with the worst possible explanations, and you’d had to slip into the bathroom to collect yourself before you burst into tears.

Today, it’s a Skittle to the eye.

But what if tomorrow…

He makes his way for the door as you look down at your sneakers, expression weaving into a grimace at everything you wish you could do and say to make this better.

You can’t ask him to stay. Can’t tell him how you really feel. Can’t give in to what he wants, especially not here.

All you can do…is let him go.

You hear him stop.

And your heart stops with him.

“So…I’ll see you tonight, right?” he calls, and you feel your chest tighten.

Tonight. You turn around. “Of course, why wouldn’t you?”

He leans against the doorframe, smiling some at your response. “Attagirl. Same time?”

“Sure.”

“Good.” He steps back. “Cause I have a feeling I’m not gonna be feeling so well.”

You fight a grin. “Oh, is that right?”

“Yeah, I’m…gosh, I’m just already feeling a little woozy,” he says, pretending to stumble back into the hall. “And…my mouth has gone dry, and my hands just feel…antsy.”

He’s terrible at this. Absolutely awful, and you snort as you watch him retreat backward. “Uh-huh.”

“So, I just…I’m really glad you do house calls,” he continues slyly. “Cause I’m really gonna need your expertise and care.”

You wave him off. “Okay, goodbye. Go away now.”

He chuckles as you continue shooing him toward the lobby. “So…you’ll be there, right?”

“Yes, Harry. I will be there.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He comes to a screeching halt, nearly forcing you to crash into his chest as he thrusts his pinky into the air between you. “Swear it.”

You eye his hand closely, heart leaping into your throat. You will not fall in love with this man. You absolutely will not do it. You won’t. 

You intertwine your finger with his. “Swear.”

He beams proudly. “Good. I’ll see you tonight, Doc.”

You can say nothing as he turns around and heads down the hall, rounding the corner before disappearing from sight.

But you stand there. Hopelessly and so unbelievably fucked as the realization begins to settle atop your chest like an anvil.

Despite your best efforts, and your self control, and your desperate attempts at keeping it from happening...

You are in love with Harry fucking Styles.

And Cristina is gonna kill you.

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[carlandoxlestappen]

Quick 3am second before I got to sleep thought

I don’t know it just popped into my head, the fact that at the end of days of future past, we saw that Logan went back to a timeline where everything is okay and everyone is alive, but he does not have any memories from it, only from his timeline.

So a lot of things definitely went differently in this timeline.

So I just thought of a moment where they’re talking and then they bring up a mission/moment or literally anything and they’re all laughing about it and shit and they’re looking over at Logan and meanwhile this man is just like the fuck when did that even fucking happen what are these people even talking about

I don’t know why this just cracked me up.

Okay goodnight pookies

Edit: I haven’t watched the movies in a while so sorry if something isn’t the way I remember

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Always my beloved; Thorin Oakenshield x reader

*Author’s note*

For my first ever Thorin Oakenshield story I hope I did you Thorin fans justice with this sweet little oneshot. So @firestrike004​ thank you soo much for your patience and I hope you all enjoy this fic.  

Not really any warnings just injuries, some fluff, some angst (fairly minor but still some people need warnings).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queen-paladin​

@gay-and-ready-to-cry​

____________________________________________________________

We knew the risk of going on this quest, but never did I think we’d come across the bane of Thorin’s family, Azog the Defiler.  We had believed he had died back at the battle of Azanulbizar from his wounds but low and behold there he was astride upon his infamous white warg.  We barely made our escape thanks to our burglar as well as the Great Eagles I had read so much about as a young dwarrow-dam.

Now we decided to take some rest to rest and for Thorin to recover.  The wounds from Azog’s warg were probably the worst I had ever seen and I’ve doctored warg bites before.  But thankfully with both mine and Oin’s help, my beloved should be back to his old strength within a few days.

Aye I did say beloved. Thorin and I are currently in the courting stage of our relationship, and have been for these past 5 summers. He had made a vow to me that once he would reclaim Erebor, we would finally be wed and I would rule at his side as Queen Under the Mountain.

Of course at first when Gandalf had persuaded Thorin to go on this quest, he wanted me to have absolutely no part in it.  In fact he had tried to send me off to live with his cousin Dain in the Iron-hills for safe keeping until the Mountain was reclaimed.  And being the stubborn female dwarf I am, I can be just as stubborn of not more than Thorin Oakenshield himself.

After some heated words, and even a fight to decide my fate, Thorin had kept his word that after defeating him in combat I had a right to go alongside the Quest.  In fact I was one of the first after Dwalin and Balin had agreed to follow Thorin.

I had just changed out Thorin’s bandages as well as flushed out any signs of infections before they could spread and cause his healing to delay or worse make him sick. As I returned to put my stuff back into the pack, I caught sight of Bilbo sitting down to some of Bombur’s stew. I walked over to him and asked.

“Mind if I join you?” he turned to me.

“Not at all (Y/n).” Hobbits truly were polite people.  Even back at his home when I was the only one out of the 13 dwarves to not to help myself to his food cabinet, he graciously tried to offer me something before one of the boys took it for themselves.  I took my seat next to him and he asked, “Do you mind if I—”

“Oh not at all Bilbo, please eat. Mahal knows we’ve been practically starving you since this quest began.” When we were in Rivendell and I caught Bilbo eating both dinner and supper within just a few short hours apart he had told me that Hobbits have seven meals every day.  I took it upon myself to first apologize for starving the poor lad and then when breakfast came that day, I had helped the Elves with serving something not only for the Dwarves but for Bilbo as well.

As he went to his stew, he took a few sips before looking around and whispered to me.

“How’s Thorin?” the lad truly has grown fond of my beloved.  Especially after what had happened along the Misty Mountains.

“He’ll live fortunately. Unfortunately for him, he’ll have to be put on bed rest for the next 24-48hours before he can even move. Warg bites are nothing to sniffle or chuckle at. And believe me getting Thorin to stay on bedrest is a challenge in on itself.”

“No doubt I imagine. I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of it being Thorin’s wife.”

“If it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve been called Thorin’s widow.” He stopped his eating and looked at me.  I placed my hand on his shoulder and continued, “What you did last night Bilbo, it’s something that I can never truly repay you for.”

“There-there really is no need to repay me. I just did what anyone of you would’ve done. Though I don’t know why I did without no skill of a blade it was all just—”

“Instinct. I get the feeling. But I am grateful nonetheless my friend.” I patted his shoulder.  “And if you’re up for it later today, Bofur and I can show you a thing or two about fighting. Same with Fili and Kili.” He nodded.

“I do appreciate it (Y/n).” I smiled at him before standing up and went off to join the others for my own meal.

Truthfully I don’t know what I would’ve done had I lost Thorin last night.  He and I have known each other since we were young Dwarves in Erebor, my father being one of the King’s proudest and strongest fighters but was sadly killed when the Dragon took our home.  My mother tried her best but she too succumbed to grief leaving me with no family, till Thorin stepped up.

He helped support me when we worked in the villages of Men and when we were finally able to make a temporary home in the Blue Mountains, that’s when my feelings for him began to deepen.  And eventually he came to accept he felt the same for me and never did I think Thorin would ever choose a wife, he never really showed much interest in wanting to court anyone, not since we lost our home.

I reached up to the left side of my hair, brought some of the hair that rested on my back to the front but something was missing.  No it-it cannot be! I looked down at my hair and brushed through it with my fingers and couldn’t see the courting beads Thorin had braided into my hair.  Not only that but some of the strand felt uneven (particularly where the braid once rested).

My heart raced as I tried to remember where and when the last time I felt the braid was. Obviously it was still intact at Rivendell, the Goblin tunnels I still had it, when Azog attacked us and—oh makk an E ha’ak!  When I fought alongside Dwalin, Fili, Kili and Bilbo to hold off the orcs from Thorin before the eagles came, one of them must’ve cut my braid off without my knowing!

A million thoughts were racing through my head.  First it was to curse the orc that did this and that I vowed to kill them if they ever show themselves again.  But most of my thoughts trailed back to Thorin.  What would he say? How will he react? Will he still want to be my One? Will he be furious that I lost his courting bead?

In our customs, a courting bead is so precious and is never given away lightly (especially if your One is someone like Thorin is).  By gaining the bead you’ve not only come to accept your One’s feelings for you, but also accept a courtship and eventual marriage to bond the two of you into one. Losing it or returning it is like having your heart getting grind up, slammed with a forging hammer until it’s nothing but tiny little pieces and then returning the heart to the one who gave you the courting bead.

And never have I once undid the braid nor removed the bead from my hair ever since Thorin gave it to me.  Everyone knew where it lied and if they saw it gone……what would the other’s think? I was so focused on my thoughts that I barely registered that I had walked into someone. When I looked up I had seen that I had walked into Gandalf.

“Oh Gandalf, forgive me.”

“No worries my dear (Y/n).” he looked me over and continued, “You seem to be worried about something.” I looked around to see if any of the others were nearby.  When I saw that no one was within hearing range, I asked Gandalf to come closer to my height with my two fingers.  He knelt down and I whispered to him.

“I’ve lost Thorin’s courtship braid.” He separated from me for a bit as I further explained, “It must’ve been that orc I faced off against when Azog caught us along the Misty Mountains. Gandalf, what if Thorin takes notice of it? Or someone already has and will tell him?”

“Now, now my dear, let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“But Gandalf you know what courting braids mean in our culture. You know what losing one’s courting bead means? I—I can’t lose Thorin. Not again, especially not after last night. He’s all I have left in this world.” He placed both of his hands on my shoulder.

“Thorin may be stubborn but I know he would never do that to you. You both have been through far too much to let something like this be the final straw to divide you both. Remember it’s not just him that’s helped you, you have helped him as well.”

He wasn’t lying. After his grandfather’s death and his father going missing, Thorin was practically lost in how to help our people. Whilst I too, grieved over my father I also had to support Thorin for he was hurting just as much as I was.  We depend on each other and support one another, the other’s beacon of light in the dark mines.

“But how do I tell him Gandalf?” I asked uncertainly.

“You’ll know just what to say my dear girl.” I took a deep breath then exhaled.

“Okay Gandalf, I trust you.”

“And you’ve learned to never doubt it.” He gave me a soft wink before going on his way.  I took a deep breath before heading back to rejoin the others.

The day was spent helping Bilbo train with his sword, scouting out for Azog or his orc pack, and helping Oin with Thorin’s wounds.  Which was what was happening right now, I held onto Thorin’s hand as Oin was once again flushing out the slightly infected bites and stitching them back up. Thorin was tense throughout the whole process.

He never did like to show pain whenever he had to get patched up.  Said he was afraid that others would view him as weak.

“Alright Thorin, just continue to not move about so much and those wounds will heal up quickly.”

“Thank you Oin. I know I’m skilled as a healer but I am nowhere near your degree of knowledge.” I told him.

“Do not doubt your own skills milady.” He told me.  “We’ll be lucky to have you as our Queen once we reclaim the throne. The first Dwarf Queen to be skilled in the knowledge of healing that could be rivaled by the Elves.” Him saying that suddenly gave me an uneasy feeling in my stomach.  As much as I do trust Gandalf in his words from earlier, there’s still a lingering shadow of fear that’s clung itself onto my like a thorn that won’t come out.  He soon left Thorin and I alone and I heard my One say.

“He’s right you know.” I turned to him.  “Never before as a Dwarf woman been so knowledgeable about herbs, healing methods and skills as you have my beloved. Erebor will be lucky to have you as it’s Queen.” He cupped the side of my face, “My only regret is that it will take us longer to get there.”

“Your health is what we should be focused on right now. I would rather Erebor have a King in good health rather than poor or worse dead.” I brushed the long strands of hair from his face before I began braiding it.

“Every hour lost hasten Durin’s day.” I rolled my eyes.

“Thorin. Durin’s day is not going anywhere. It lies on the same day as it always does. Not a week before not a week after. As I said, I would rather have you in good health to rule at my side, than you pushing yourself only to make your health worsen. Even if I have to bind you to this tree I will.”

“Reminds me of the time when you did just that to get me to have me teach you how to fight. Is that how you intend on delivering punishments? Bound the prisoners to trees with your tight knots?”

“Only to those truly stubborn enough not to follow either mine or Doctor Oin’s orders.” We both laughed softly before I gave him a soft kiss.  I felt as his hand went from cupping the side of my face to going around the back of my head, right to where I knew he’d always like to stroke his courting braid.

I separated our kiss and quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled it away from my head.  Immediately I could see the thoughts spinning in his head like a spider’s web.

“What is it (Y/n)?” he asked me.

“Nothing.” I quickly said.

“It’s not nothing. Never before have you stopped me from touching your hair.”

“I—I haven’t had the chance to brush my hair yet.” Even to me that was a pathetic excuse.  Thorin’s brow rose skeptically then he asked me.

“What’s really going on?” I sighed deeply and turned my head away from him.

“I cannot say.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“(Y/n), amrâlimê.” He lifted my chin up to look into his deep blue eyes.  “What was it you once said to me when we first began courting?”

“That there should be no secrets between us.” I answered.

“So why are you starting now?” I sighed heavily, already feeling the wetness of tears forming under my eyes.

“I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“That I’ll lose you.”

“(Y/n). These wounds of mine aren’t—”

“It’s not the wounds or in battle that I fear amrâlimê, it’s—” I took another deep breath before I took the section of my hair where he had given his courting bead and showed him how it was now gone.  As I expected his eyes widened in shock as he reached out for the cut strands of my uneven hair and brushed through them.  Almost hoping the bead would reappear along with the braid but it was gone.

“How long has it been missing?” he asked.  His voice stern as I knew he was trying to suppress his anger.

“I only noticed it this morning. My best guess is that it was the orc I was fighting with along the mountainside when Azog ambushed us. I’m sorry Thorin, this is my fault for allowing that foul creature to even graze my hair. I should’ve been more careful I should’ve been more aware of what I was carrying upon my head. I was careless, foolish and—” I was stopped by the feeling of his arms wrapped around me tightly.

“But you are not hurt, yes?”

“No.”

“Then that is enough for me.” I separated our embrace and looked at him in shock, his eyes that were once filled with shock and anger now appeared soft and gentle.

“I don’t understand. Thorin, my courtship braid to you has been severed. Your courting bead lost forever.”

“Mere objects. A new braid can be made, a new bead can be strung into your locks. But there is only one you,” he cupped my face into his hands, his thumbs gingerly stroking the apple of my cheeks just above the strands of my own beard.  “And I could not bear the thought of losing you.”

“You—you still wish to court me?”

“You are my One, (Y/n). Who else would I want as my Queen?”

“I just…..I know how special our courting traditions and symbols are. I was worried if you took notice of your bead and braid missing that you—you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.”

“Amrâlimê,” our noses softly grazed one another’s as we stared deeply into each other’s eyes, “I would rather share one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone. You are my One, and nothing will ever change that. As I said, I can give you a new braid, I’ll find you a new bead. A more finer bead once we reach the mountain and reclaim our home. But there is only one of you. And I would be a fool to let someone like you go.”

He then pressed his forehead to mine and I shut my eyes as I felt his love and strength enter me as our forehead remained together.

“I am sorry I doubted your love Thorin.” I said after awhile of silence between us.

“There is no need for apologizes. You are always be my beloved, no matter what the world gives us…..”

“We’ll always be One.” I finished our vows that we made for one another when we first began our courtship together.  He soon moved his lips over mine and once again we kissed.  

His hand going back towards the area where my braid once stood, and I felt his fingers softly brush through those strands of hair and I felt myself finally relax under his touch.

[warriors-naming-ceremony]

this is clancy, he turned 8 years old last month :)

Raintuft, an experienced warrior, was named after his long fur. Many of the clan's apprentices are jealous of how soft his fur looks, but they'd never say it to his face.

[st4rfckerz]

in my head sam monroe is obsessed with liz vicious and never misses any of her videos

[stxrslut]

Doctor!jj, I think your innocence is what attracted him to so much. All he can think about is corrupting that innocence. But you would have moments of brattiness that he would have to tame or try to anyway.

he definitely has that surgeon ego. acts like he knows so much better than you allll the time, and you listen to him cause he just reeks of casual dominance!!

whenever he gives you a punishment he drills it righttt into you, he’s the doctor and he knows what’s best so you should behave next time!

[look-at-the-soul]

Hello, Mar! Hope you are okay! 🥰

This is a gif blurb female edition, I'm sending you the one and only Polly!

Not rush at all to write it! Just have fun ♥️

Hello Flor!!!! @raincoffeeandfandoms thank you so much for sending this gif in! I had the idea for a while, but between the holidays and all, I couldn’t write it back then.

it was so much fun writing for Polly and pissing Tommy off 😂 I hope you enjoy this little blurb! xxx

The ladies club

“You’re taking Y/N fucking where?!” Tommy spat banging his hand against the desk. “To a ladies club.” Polly repeated with all the calm of the world. But her nephew was fuming, eyes almost popping out from its place. “Absolutely the fuck not.” “So you’re telling me for your bachelor party, you can get to go with the boys to a gentlemen strip club, but Y/N isn’t allowed to enjoy a ladies night out?” “That’s different…” “How? Showing off tits is the same to show off-” “Stop it Pol, I said no.” Tommy protested through gritted teeth. Polly flicked her cigarette, ignoring her nephew’s death stare. “Relax Thomas you sound like an old man.” Then, taking her handbag from his desk she stood up. “Besides, everyone is going, Ada, Lizzie, Esme… even Linda!” She made the signal of the cross. “Pol…” “I’ll sent her off perfectly trained for your wedding night…” “I’m serious…” Tommy was heavily breathing like a bull. “Don’t worry they will be gentle…” Reaching the door, Polly found Y/N biting down her nails, terrified. “Polly I’m warning you.” The matriarch of the Shelby clan saw a thick vein pulsing against Tommy’s temple, jaw clenched. “Why should the boys have all the fun?” She asked as if it meant nothing. “Over my death body.” Tommy marched towards his fiancée furiously. “So what? Are you going to strip and dance for her?” Looking at the ceiling, he exhaled. If that would keep Y/N away from those greasy men…

[toasttt11]

first nhl game

April 11, 2023

Grey walked through the prudential Arena with her dad, Ellen and Jim. They headed to their seats and sat down, Her dad wearing a devils bomber jacket, Ellen having on her devils scarf and Jim wearing all black, and Grey proudly wore her Luke Hughes Devils Jersey.

Grey bounced her leg, excited to see Luke. Grey having just started her season and have been out of the county for the last few weeks having just gotten back early this morning from London, having to go to the factory after having won her race in Australia.

She sadly couldn’t make it Luke’s frozen four tournament and she really wanted to have been there for him especially since it was his last games, but she was glad she got to go a bunch of his games at Michigan when her season ended and got to watch him play at Umich once more.

She watched as the lights dimmed and couldn’t help but smile so extremely proud, watching Luke skate on the ice and start his NHL rookie lap, she held onto Ellen’s hand tightly as they all watched him begin to start his dream.

Grey was loudly cheering for her boyfriend with a proud smile etched on her face and knew it was going to be there all day.

Grey watched the whole game intently against the Buffalo Sabres sitting at the edge of seat, the game was definitely super intense and the Devils played an amazing game and ended up winning 6-2.

Grey laughed softly watching as Luke skated off the ice having just played his first ever NHL game.

Carter, Jim and Ellen all had proud looks on their faces as they watched Luke play.

The four walked down to the locker room waiting for the team to come out, Grey stood slighty behind her family wanting to suprise Luke, as she didn’t tell him she could make his game tonight.

Luke ran a hand through his wet curls as he walked out of the locker room after his first NHL game, Jack walking right next to him having just had one of his most favorite games he played getting to play with his little brother.

“There’s a surprise for you.” Jack smirked at his brother and nudged him towards their family, knowing Grey was here.

“What?” Luke looked down at Jack but Jack only gestured towards their family. Luke looked over seeing his family move slight letting him see Grey.

He let out a breath of disbelief and could feel a wider smile forming on his face, He let out a fond chuckle seeing Grey just shrugged with a smile and Luke quickly walked towards her pulling her into a tight hug.

Grey let out a breath of relief resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around him, “I’m so proud of you baby.” She whispered againt his chest pressing a soft kiss against his chest.

Luke smiled contently as he had his girl in his arms for the first time in almost two months, he leaned down pressing a kiss to the top of her hand and rested his chin on her head, “I thought you couldn’t come today?” Luke having been understanding that she couldn’t come but was pretty sad.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Grey promised, having spent longer days in the factory to make sure she could get to his first NHL game.

“Thank you.” Luke whispered softly kissing the top of her head.

“Wanna go home?” Grey giddily asked, knowing that Luke had moved into her apartment while she gone and couldn’t wait to go home with him.

“Let’s go home.” Luke smiled pulling back from the long hug tucking her against his side, he looked down at her and couldn’t help but smirk slighty seeing her in his jersey, Grey in his jerseys have always been one of his favorite things on her.

[hotchs-bitch]

Fluffy Feb Day 28- Comfort Sex [Greg Montgomery]

Warnings: established relationship, praise kink, some dumbification, overstimulation, oral sex (both receiving), condescending Greg, p in v sex, comfort sex but make it a little kinky because February can be very tough and I know the girlies are struggling rn (I am one of the girlies)

Pairing: Greg Montgomery x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: big love to @greg-montgomery for reading it over, and inspiring me to write this, and to @doctorstethoscope for putting on this amazing event❤️ this is the first thing I’ve written for a non CM character, so please let me know what you think! Happy fluffy feb, folks. That’s a wrap

“Hi, honey!” The predictable kiss to your cheek when Greg sets his briefcase down should make you feel better, but the smile you force makes him pause. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” The lie rolls off your tongue with ease. You’re fine. “How was your day?”

“It was Anderson’s last day, so Pete brought a few strippers into the office. Oh, and I finished up that divorce settlement that’s been dragging on.” Greg’s jacket comes off and he hangs it on the coat rack before moving toward the sofa. “My mother wants us to come over for dinner on Friday to discuss the charity luncheon. It’s for sick horses, or maybe women, I think; she either said ‘equestrian’ or ‘equality’, but the stripper music was really loud.”

“So a normal day, for you.” Your teasing falls a little flat, and he frowns as he sits down next to you on the sofa.

“I guess. Hey, what’s going on? Where’s that smile?” His coaxing doesn’t have the effect he’s looking for, you’re sure. Instead, your chin wobbles and you let out a huff of annoyance. “Talk to me. Come on.”

“Everyone’s just… everyone is an idiot,” you snap, catching yourself off-guard with the fury behind your words. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s just, I feel like I’m the only person at work who has a brain and knows how to use it, and I feel like I’m doing everything, and now my boss is mad at me because I’ve made a few mistakes because I’ve been doing everyone else’s job, and now we have this luncheon to worry about for your mother’s horses, and-”

“Hey.” His voice is sharp, and one hand encircles your wrist. “Just breathe. Don’t apologize to me. I want you to tell me this kind of stuff, honey, you know that. Is anything else bothering you?”

The laundry list of things that have been annoying you seems meagre when you actually have to say it out loud. “I got stuck on the way to work behind a car that didn’t use its turn signal,” you mumble. “And the diner was out of sandwiches when I went there for lunch because they didn’t make enough to last all day. It’s all dumb stuff, I’m just tired.”

“It’s not dumb. If it’s bothering you, it’s not dumb,” Greg promises. “What can I do to help? Just say the word.”

You huff again, ignoring the way his lips twitch at the sound. “I don’t know. I just feel like you and I are the only people in the world who have two brain cells to rub together, and I’m tired of it. I spend every single day thinking for everyone and fixing things they should fix, and doing things they should be doing.”

Greg puts one arm around your shoulders, pulling you in sideways. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, dragging his lips against your cheek in a long kiss. “You know what I think?”

“That I should get promoted? Or at least, get in less trouble?” You grumble, allowing him to pull you close. “Good luck with that.”

“Well, yes,” he agrees after a second. “Of course. But I can’t do that. What I can do is, I can turn your pretty little brain off for a while.”

Oh. That’s not what you were expecting to hear, but it sounds nice. “I just don’t want to think,” you mumble, playing with one of the buttons on his shirt. “It’s too much.”

“I know it is, baby. Come on, it’s okay,” he soothes. One of his hands slides down your side, seamlessly unbuttoning your pants. “Can I? Let me take care of you.”

That’s the magical sentence, the key to the kingdom, and you nod in answer. Your eyes start to flutter shut when his fingers toy with the waistband of your panties, but you force yourself to keep them open so you can look at him.

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs again, leaning in to line your neck with kisses. “No need to think. You’re mine, remember? And I take good care of what’s mine.”

It’s true, he does, and you can already feel yourself going fuzzy around the edges when he circles your clit with one finger. “Mm…”

You feel his smile against your skin, that self-satisfied smirk he wears whenever he turns you to putty. “That’s it. Just take it, just like that. My good girl’s already getting so wet for me, so perfect.”

Greg won’t push a finger in until you’re dripping; you know that from experience. One of his fingers keeps circling your clit, and he uses his other hand to push down your shirt and bra, giving him access to thumb at your nipple.

“I’ll, I can take it off,” you offer, already thinking about sliding off your shirt and unclasping your bra, and Greg sinks his teeth into the skin of your shoulder in warning.

“I’ll take it off when I want it off,” he promises. “Stop trying so hard. You’re mine, I’m in charge here. You’re going to get what I give you, yeah? You’ve got a safeword. If you aren’t saying it, you’re taking what you get.”

“Y-yeah.” Your breath hitches through the word when he pinches your nipple, his finger rubbing you faster with more and more pressure as the seconds pass. 

His hand moves down slightly, and he groans into your ear when he swipes a finger through your folds to discover how wet you are. “That’s it. Is this turning you on, hm? You like it when I take good care of my princess?” One finger moves back to rub at your clit, lubricated with your arousal.

When he pulls his head away from your shoulder, you bury his face in his neck. It hardly muffles your moans, or your whines of, “Gonna, I need to, please,” against his skin.

“Come for me,” he coaxes. “You don’t have to ask, it’s okay. All over my hand, just like that, go ahead.”

The permission is like a release all on its own, and you moan unabashedly into him as you come, shaking and writhing against him as you grind down onto his hand. 

His finger stays steady against you, working you through your orgasm while you whimper into his neck. When he doesn’t stop playing with your clit, you pull back with a soft groan.

“Was good,” you sigh out, and Greg kisses you sweetly without his rhythm faltering. “I’m- oh, I’m good, baby, thank you.”

“Very good,” he agrees, his voice soft and husky against your lips. “I’ve got such a good girl. You can come again, good girl, I know you can.”

“Greg…” You squirm under him, pleasure mounting quickly as your first orgasm starts to build into your second without letting you come down first. 

He shushes you, kissing your neck again as you come undone on his fingers a second time, your orgasm cresting like a soft wave. “You can take it, just like that. So wet for me, sweetheart, so perfect.” The praise kisses your ears as he kisses you again, finally, blissfully withdrawing his hand as you take a deep breath.

Several deep breaths later, you start to return to yourself. The orgasms weren’t fireworks, or mind-blowing. They were good, of course, but they washed over you in a gentle wave of pleasure rather than making you cry out or making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Ready for more?” He asks with another slow kiss, and you pull back to blink at him.

“More?” You echo, and Greg chuckles at that.

Standing up off the couch, he offers you one hand and you take it. “Yes, more,” he promises, leading you toward the bedroom. “My girl hasn’t had enough yet. I want to hear you beg.”

The bed is soft beneath you when he lays you back, skimming both hands down your eyes before slowly- painfully slowly- tugging your pants and underwear down until they hit the floor. “I want to taste you,” you mumble, and he grins.

Something about sucking him off, having the most intimate part of him under your control, never fails to drive you crazy. Some days, he comes home to find you already on your knees because you crave the taste of him so badly. Although, ever since one incident where you’d nicked the head of his dick with one of your teeth, he has a new… approach.

“You think you can take it? Already, baby, but you need to be careful,” he warns. “Remember, my good girl knows how to listen. You can unzip me.”

His zipper comes down so fast that it’s almost comical, and when he gives permission you push his pants and boxers off while he discards his shirt. 

“I want it.” Your voice is breathless as you eye his hard cock, hard enough to be standing up when he lays back on the bed.

“I know you do,” he says, his voice equal parting soothing and husky. “Okay, greedy girl. You remember what to do?”

This part always frustrates you; the way he talks like you’ve never blown him before, like you’ve never had him whining for your touch. “I know,” you huff, and he wraps one hand in your hair to steady it against the back of your head.

He continues talking like he hasn’t heard you. “First, you can grip it. Stroke nice and slow, get me ready. Stick out your tongue, that’s it. Look how fast my girl is learning.”

You’re perched between his thighs, one hand gripping his hairy leg while you take his cock in your other hand and stroke it. Nice and slow, just like he said, and when you see a bead of pre-cum your tongue slides out of your open mouth of its own volition. 

“I’m ready,” you insist, and Greg twists his hand in your hair just tight enough to hurt. “I am! I’m ready, I can do it.”

“You can do it if you can follow instructions,” he corrects you. “Tap the head on your tongue, sweetheart. Let me feel that mouth.”

“Could feel more of my mouth,” you mumble, but he ‘tsk’s at that until you follow his direction.

“Not yet, I can’t,” he sighs while he watches you, sympathetic. “Now, maybe if my greedy girl weren’t a safety hazard, we could do this however you want. But for now, you’re listening to me.”

You want to complain about that, but then he’s got his free hand steadying your jaw. “Open up more,” he murmurs, and your jaw drops obediently. “Good girl. If I feel anything other than that tongue and those pretty lips, I’m going to edge you until you cry. And we don’t want that, do we?”

He uses the hand tangled in your hair to shake your head for you. “No, we don’t.” He answers his own question, then slowly pushes into your mouth. “Just like that, good girl,” he praises. “You can stroke the rest of it, for now. You feel so good, I don’t want to finish too soon.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you listen to his instructions, bobbing your head only as much as he allows you to. Drool escapes your mouth, making the glide of your hand on his cock smoother, and you shift with excitement when you hear him sigh in pleasure.

You’re doing it. You’re being his good girl, following his instructions so perfectly, and if you could live out the rest of your days with your head between his thighs and his hands holding you in place, you surely would. It’s blissful, the familiar weight of him in your mouth, grounding you.

Time passes- how much, you can’t say- and Greg lets you get closer, take a little more of him. He even lets you suckle at his sac at one point before guiding you back up to his cock and thrusting shallowly; something he does so rarely that it feels like a reward for you when he does. He pumps into your mouth, once, twice, and you can feel him twitch against your tongue before he pulls out completely.

“Didn’t finish,” you complain, and he shuts you up by pulling you closer up on the bed with the hand in your hair and kissing you.

“I know, baby,” he soothes when you’ve broken apart, discarding your shirt and bra to the floor. “I know. But you got to taste, and now I can make my girl feel so good, can’t I?”

“Fuck me.” It’s half demand, half plea, and Greg is having none of it.

“Not yet.” He lays you back on the bed and gets between your thighs, kissing a line down your neck. When you whine with impatience, two of his fingers nudge your lips. “Suck on those, sweetheart. You can be good for a little longer.”

He’s right, you can be, so you eagerly suck the digits into your mouth as his lips caress your breasts, then your stomach, then your upper thighs while he slides down the bed. “Mm,” you protest around the fingers when you spread your legs for him, and he doesn’t immediately dive between them, instead pulling the fingers out of your mouth and tracing your nipple with saliva.

Sucking his cock has gotten you worked up again, and you’re ready for one of those mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasms that only he can give you. Luckily, he acquiesces after a long moment, wrapping his lips around your clit to suck. Hard.

His tongue pushes into you, curling and probing perfectly, and he pulls off after a minute just to murmur, “Come when you’re ready,” and then he’s back on you with fervour. When you do come, your back arches and you cry out and this time you definitely see fireworks, but he’s still not stopping. “Again,” he insists, panting into your skin as his tongue flicks against your clit and you moan.

Both of your hands are tangled in his hair by the time he pulls away, and by then you’ve got no idea how many times you’ve finished. Orgasm has blurred into orgasm, one continuous stream of pleasure that has you blinking away tears and breathing heavily when Greg comes up for air. His chin is wet, his eyes sinfully dark, and he’s still got a stupid smirk on his face, and if you could possibly come again you would probably do it just from looking at him.

“Just a few more,” he promises you, fisting his cock. It’s an angry purple, the bedsheet under him spotted with pre-cum, and you moan aloud at the idea of him enjoying eating you out so much that’s turning him on. His promise of ‘a few more’ doesn’t even register, at first. You’re drunk off the feel of his tongue, unable to form a sentence if you tried, and you need him inside you now.

“Please.” It’s a whine, and Greg grins at your needy pout while he kisses you. “Please, I need it.”

“I know you do,” he whispers. “Can you ride me? Can my princess handle that?”

You shake your head, no, you can’t handle it. Your legs are trembling and achy, you’ve come too many times, and you couldn’t move right now if you tried.

Instead of getting frustrated, Greg just chuckles while he pushes your legs back open. “No?” He teases, pressing the head of his cock against your hole. He pushes the head in slightly, then pulls it out just to hear your lewd moan at the loss. “Did I make my good girl so dumb she can’t even ride me? I’ve been so nice to you, sweetheart, and you can’t help your man out?”

Tears prick at your eyes as you nod furiously. “M sorry,” you gasp out, willing your legs to spread further for him. His thumb grazes your clit again and you flinch, overstimulated. “It’s, it’s too much, I can’t.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby.” His grin doesn’t falter as his thumb speeds up, pressing directly on the bundle of nerves until your eyes roll back and your back arches off the bed. “I’ll forgive you if you can come again, how’s that sound?”

It sounds impossible, but the way he’s giving you no reprieve is starting to make you shake under him all over again. “Can’t, I can’t, please!”

“I think you can.” He presses his cock into you again, hardly an inch. “You love it when I do this, you love being my dumb baby. You beg for it. Soak my cock, get it nice and wet so I can fuck you.”

Your whimper almost breaks the sound barrier, you swear. Greg’s thumb doesn’t slow down or break the rhythm at all when you try to squirm away, and he pins you down with one hand on your abdomen. “Please, please, please, please!”

It’s hard to tell what you’re begging for now, but he doesn’t care. His tongue pokes out in concentration, staring down at your pussy as you clench around the head of his cock. When his eyes dart up, connecting with yours, you shatter.

It’s like falling off a skyscraper, becoming a firework, a train of pleasure colliding with your body as you howl. Words escape you and your mouth falls open in a silent scream when he finally, blissfully, pushes in the rest of the way. You can’t focus on him or the way he cups your cheek or the words he mumbles, you can’t focus on anything except the slick drag of his cock inside you.

“Knew you could do it,” he pants, squeezing your jaw a little. “So pretty when you come for me, baby.”

“Greg, Greg, Greg-” You’re gasping out his name with each punctuated thrust, the only word in your brain now. You can’t even remember your own name, you’re so fuzzy.

“Did I get my girl all stupid?” He croons, grinning down at you with that sinisterly innocent smile. “Oh, I did. Look at those pretty eyes. All glazed over, not a single thought in there. You like my cock that much, princess? Hm?”

“Mhm, mm,” you moan behind closed lips, and you hear his chuckle.

“I thought so. You like it when I treat you good? When I rub that clit until you can’t breathe?” Your sharp inhale follows the sound of him spitting onto his hand, reaching down to roll circles around the swollen bud. “I know you need it, baby, you can do it.”

There are tears streaming down your face now, and you hardly know when they started. You’re too overwhelmed with pleasure, you can hardly stand it, you don’t know how much longer you can go. You don’t want to stop, that’s the only thing you know. He’s in charge, like he always tells you. He knows best, you’re his dumb baby, and you can take whatever he gives you, you can.

“That’s my good girl,” he coos when you don’t try to argue. “Just like that. I’m thinking for you, remember? You’re all mine. You’re going to let me keep playing with this pretty pussy, aren’t you?”

Swallowing a sob, you can only nod as he kisses you again. You let him invade your mouth as you grip his back, leaving scratches that are sure to burn but he only hisses in pleasure. You’re being so good that you’re almost dizzy with the thought of it, so good for him, he’s mumbling into your mouth that you’re so fucking perfect and it makes you shudder in pleasure. 

It can’t be possible for your body to come again, but it also shouldn’t be possible for one man to be so perfect, and you think that Greg can find a way to do anything. When you start to feel that familiar twist in your belly you whine, and he pulls his hand away, and you don’t know if you’re disappointed or relieved.

“Can I come?” He asks, breathless, just what you’ve been waiting for, and he places his hand on your stomach. “Right here, can I fill you up?”

The sigh of relief he lets out when you nod is orgasmic in its own right. He thrusts again, once, twice more, and then you can feel him flooding your insides like he promised, filling you up with him. “Good girl,” he gasps out as he ruts through it, crushing his lips to yours as you kiss back hazily, messily.

Instead of collapsing on the bed when he pulls out, he immediately moves back down your body and mouths at your hip. “I’m gonna clean you up,” he says, gazing up at you as his lips trail lower and he sucks a mark on your inner thigh. “One more, on my tongue. My good girl can do it.”

Truthfully, you don’t know if you can. You feel weighed down, boneless, and the idea of ever coming again sounds impossible. But you’re good for him, you’re his good girl, you’re his, so you just nod. 

“Eyes on me,” he whispers, and he keeps his gaze locked on you as- fuck, as his tongue pushes inside you and curls, lapping up the taste of himself before it can leak out of you. Greg moans against you, into you, and as soon as you can feel your arms again you place one hand in his hair. It’s damp with sweat, the locks sliding through your fingers, and when you tangle your fingers in it to keep a grip on him he only licks harder.

Your hips rock up off the bed to meet his mouth, and his nose bumps against your clit as he tries to get even closer to you. Once he’s satisfied with cleaning his cum out of you he pulls back, still holding eye contact with you, and you see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

You must have died, several orgasms ago. This must be heaven.

Greg latches back onto your clit in a frenzy, sucking hard as he rolls his tongue over the bud, and a fresh stream of tears escapes you when you sob, yanking his hair hard, chanting yes, yes, yes, and please, Greg, fuck, as you come undone on his tongue like you have so many times tonight.

His tongue laves over you as you come down, an unspoken apology to your overused pussy, and he pulls away after you whine softly. Your hands release his hair and he moves up the bed, kissing you gingerly.

This might be your favourite part; lying in his arms in the afterglow, with no need to do or say or think. “Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs once you’ve settled into him. “You did so well for me. How’s my best girl doing?”

Words haven’t returned to you yet; maybe they never will. When he wraps one arm around your shoulders, you roll over on your side to nestle your head in your favourite spot between his jaw and his collarbone and hum with contentment.

“So perfect,” he praises, and you turn your face into the crook of his neck. He loves to praise you, especially afterwards, and you both know how badly you want- no, need- to hear it, but it still gets you embarrassed sometimes. “You took me so well, sweet girl. I’m so proud of you.”

“Sorry.” Your voice is raspy, your throat dry, and your words are muffled against him. “Couldn’t ride you, Greg. ‘M sorry.”

“Hey,” he pulls back just enough to kiss the side of your head, “No apologizing. You could never let me down, angel. You’re so perfect for me, all the time.” When you relax back against him, he continues speaking, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Honestly, after all that, I’ll be impressed if you can even walk.”

There might be a challenge in his tone, or maybe you’re just imagining it, because when you hmph indignantly he lets out a tranquil sigh and starts stroking soothing lines down your back with the hand wrapped around you. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s not find out tonight. You deserve some rest. Do you need anything else?”

After a moment, you inhale deeply. You’re surrounded by the scent and feel and voice of the man you love. The taste of him is still in your mouth, and you’ve got a perfectly-captured image in your mind’s eye of the beautiful smile he gave you before he kissed you. You’ve got everything you need, and you shake your head to tell him that.

“Alright. You’ll let me know if you need anything, okay?” He waits for you to nod. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” you mumble. You want to hear more of him, you want him to speak until his is the only voice you recognize, so you ask the only thing you can think of short of asking him to read you the dictionary. “How was your day?”

A smile pulls at his lips, and you can see it in your head when you feel his jaw shift above you. It’s that lopsided smile that always makes you want to kiss him silly, you just know it is. “It was good. It was Anderson’s last day, and we had a party. How was your day, princess?”

You sigh against his skin, relaxing into his embrace like it’s a warm cloud you could sink into and never emerge from. “It was perfect.”

Fluffy Feb masterlist | < Prev Day

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[foggyxrayspecs]

Can you do a one shot of cub standing upright??

Sorry it’s the anon from before

YESSS. Thank you for being patient, friend! You got it! Here's a one-shot about a year and a half after the Security Measures main series. Warnings: dark-ish, sub-themes of human trafficking, heavy pet play Word Count: ~1500 Excerpt: You swallow down your growls. You straighten your spine against the stress. No slouching. Slouching turns to bending, bending turns to curling… You roll your shoulders back and puff out your chest intentionally. Your focus shifts back to your breath — the only thing you can control at the moment.

IN A WAREHOUSE IN YEKATERINBURG, RUSSIA It took roughly a thousand hours of mobility training and practice to get you here, but you are here on your own two feet.

You stand stoically, a sentinel outside the room where your owner engages in a high-stakes meeting with the Yekaterinburg mob boss. Your hard gaze wills your sight to bore through the closed door. Your auditory enhancements are dialed up to try and catch every sound, including the cadence of Yelena’s speech rhythms as she negotiates for keeps. 

You are dressed head-to-toe in black tactical. Always mindful of your comfort and mobility during missions, Yelena designed your suit to be roomy enough to accommodate any necessary movements. The fabric clings to your body but is not too tight, allowing flexibility without compromising protection. Your hood, a custom piece, resembles a K-9, complete with little ears that stand up on either side of your head. It extends with a longer snout build-out that provides ample space for a muzzle when required while still optimized for breathing. 

Around your neck, you proudly wear your day collar, a symbol of your loyalty and Yelena’s ownership. A simple bulldog harness adorns your torso, providing additional support and security. Plus, you love it when she tugs on the strap to pull you close. 

But it's the footwear that still feels strange to you. Yelena insisted you wear shoes after you accidentally burned the pads of your feet. These steel and supple leather boots have been expertly molded to fit your feet like a second skin. You wiggle your toes, still adjusting to the sensation so different from what you were accustomed to. So weird.

As the negotiation progresses, you study the tone of the voices in the room, Yelena's trademark confidence, and the mobster's unpredictable temperament. The rhythm of their conversation, the pauses, and the inflections become a catalog of information that you analyze every nuance for potential threats.

You swallow down your growls. You straighten your spine against the stress. No slouching. Slouching turns to bending, bending turns to curling downward… You roll your shoulders back and puff out your chest intentionally. A tiny bit of your focus shifts to your breath — the only thing you can control at the moment.

XXXXX

ONE YEAR AGO (TRAINING MONTAGE)

Yelena's determination to have you on more extended missions made her focus on your mobility earnestly. Due to the regulations that required HK-9s to travel in crates in the cargo holds of planes, Yelena wanted to find a way to keep you close to her side. So, she started you on a rigorous routine, retraining you to stand upright after spending most of your adult life walking on all fours.

The training began with early morning workouts, targeting your core muscles and balance. You could sit up on the ottoman for an entire movie as you gain strength. Well, if the movie wasn’t too scary (and didn’t set off your protective instincts enough to lunge at the screen.) From there, Yelena guided you to stand using support from a wall or other sturdy objects, allowing you to grow accustomed to being upright. Climbing up her while she stood was always your favorite exercise, with the instant reward of affectionate kisses and nuzzling.

Gradually, Yelena decreased the amount of support you required. With time and practice, you could stand unassisted for extended periods, your muscles growing stronger as she molded your body through her instruction.

Once you could stand freely, Yelena shifted her focus to re-teaching you how to walk. Advised by Oksana, she transformed the home gym by installing parallel bars and other physical therapy equipment, providing you with stable tools for practice. 

The effort wasn't without its snags. Melina offered her assistance when you experienced unexplained bouts of vertigo during your first steps. She expertly assessed your sensory inputs and made slight adjustments near your vestibular nerve (to reverse tampering from years ago), alleviating any concerns of nausea or dizziness. Your progress kicked into overdrive when you could stop worrying about losing your lunch.   

Yelena ensured the house environment was safe and free of obstacles, so you could no longer leave your toys everywhere. Bipedal-only walking days were implemented inside the house, pressing you to practice on surfaces like wood, carpet, tile, and grass. Yelena remained patient and positive throughout, even when frustration got the better of you. 

She stood by your side with a cane during sessions on the treadmill, gently tapping you on either calf to correct any toe-turning. She listened keenly to your body's messages and promptly ceased training if you experienced pain. She was better at that than you were. 

But the playful moment when you confidently moonwalked backward across the kitchen floor — a move taught to you by one of the widows during some downtime— signaled to Yelena that the time had come to take you out.

XXXXX

BACK IN THE CORRIDOR

You stand at attention as Yelena exits the dimly lit room; her expression is unreadable, and her gun is smoking. Her eyes briefly look up and meet yours, a fleeting acknowledgment. There is no need for words; you are leaving now. You fall into step beside her as you walk down the corridor. Your eyes sweep the area and over her head, knowing that four widows are covertly covering the building but will not reveal themselves unless signaled. 

Together, you and Yelena move in sync, a well-practiced vigilance. Each turn you take, each hallway you navigate, brings you closer to the exit. Yelena quickens her pace, and you adjust accordingly, seamlessly matching her movements. You share an unspoken understanding, a mutual trust forged through countless missions and shared experiences.

Finally, you reach the exit. With a subtle nod, you guide her toward the sleek egress vehicle, its polished exterior gleaming under the moon. The car door opens soundlessly, and Yelena gracefully slides into the driver’s seat. You ensure her safety with a gentle click as the door closes.

The engine purrs softly. With a smile on her lips, she reaches over and opens the passenger door, motioning for you to join her. She whispers with her voice laced with pride and anticipation, "Get in, cub." 

XXXXX

AT A SAFE HOUSE NEAR THE AIRPORT

She opens the door for you when you get out of the car. You reach out, then stop yourself. Yelena looks back at you and smiles softly, then reaches to curl her pinkie around your index finger. “You always need a leash, yes?” You roll your eyes. She continues while leading you to the door, “You know you love it.”

You smile shyly with a shrug and sign. Maybe just a little.

Yelena opens the house with her security access, then locks it down when you are both inside. Once in your bedroom, Yelena stands before you, her eyes scanning your tactical gear. “You did a very good job, my cub, and you looked very cool in your new suit.” 

Yelena’s inspections were familiar after a mission, but this time, she had a mischievous glint in her eyes. With deliberate movements, she approached you, her fingers deftly undoing the fastenings of your suit, one by one. 

You stood still, anticipation building as she removed each piece. As her fingers released the buckles of your harness, the straps fell away. When she unzipped the suit, her fingers brushed against your skin, igniting a trail of shivers. The hood was the next to come off. Her fingers lingered, tracing the contours of the muzzle as she set it aside.

Yelena's touch ghosted over the day collar, a silent affirmation of her possession. With gentleness, she leaned forward to press her lips against the lock that symbolized your devotion.

With every piece of clothing removed, you stood before Yelena, bared and vulnerable. Her eyes met yours, a mixture of affection and possessiveness shining in them. She took a step closer, caressing your cheek, and whispered, "You're mine." You close your eyes briefly, then open them, knowing that her claim extends far beyond the physical. 

You take a long breath and sign. Please?

Yelena smiles slowly and nods once. “Kneel.”

A wave of relief hits you, and you can barely help yourself from folding in midair.

As you lower yourself, your eyes never leave hers while your perspectives are inverted. You go from towering over her down to her eye level, then lower until you are on your knees, looking up at your owner.

It's hard to describe the transference. Looking down at Yelena makes you feel protective, strong, and ready. It also makes you feel loving and compassionate. When you look down at her, you see not only her physical appearance but also her vulnerability. You see a person who trusts you. 

But looking up at someone you love can also be a very intimate experience. It makes you feel safe and protected. It makes you feel excited and grateful. When you look up at Yelena, you see her body but also her soul. You see the person who makes you feel happy, loved, and cherished.

After a thousand hours of training to stand and move, it becomes clear that kneeling for her requires no time at all.

[ghost-proofbaby]

I feel like eddie definitely loves elvira like he has one of those magazine posters of hers somewhere in his dresser

oh 100%. that man is such a sucker for elvira and mortician adams and such. if you ever decided to dress up as one of them for halloween, he’d lose his goddamn mind.

you’d initially bring it up casually (after finding that said magazine — but he doesn’t need to know that) and already his heart would be skipping beats thinking about you in that fashion, but when a few weeks pass and you actually do it? oh. oh dear lord help the boy. he’d be so dramatic about it. worshiping you and kissing the ground you walk on the entire night, never going more than a few minutes without complimenting you. at the first reveal he’s doing his chest stabbing moment, falling back on the couch and playing dead. you’d be giggling and lean over him like “get up, dumb ass” and he’d just mutter out the corner of his mouth “i can’t, your beauty killed me” with his eyes still closed.

and you’d tease him, saying, “oh, yeah? that’s a shame. guess i’ll have to go find someone else to be the gomez to my morticia-“

in an instant that boy is sitting back up and wrapping his arms around you to pull you into him as he starts to kiss you all over, and you’d resist complaining “my makeup, eddie!” and he’d just have his mouth still latched onto your neck as he said “don’t care. fix it later.” before kissing your red lips 🥺

he definitely ends up wearing more of your lipstick than you are, and he definitely doesn’t bother cleaning it off

[7ndipity]

"May your trials end in full bloom"

Happy Birthday Yoongi💙

[battle-subway-ghost]

{Transmission..?}

[Paris can be seen pacing around the room, looking agitated over something. He's repeating the same path over and over, briefly stopping here and then to either look out the window or at the radio.

"God- i need to get out of this fucking house... uuugh."

The pacing immediately stops as he hears the radio crackle to life, as he nearly trips over his feet hurrying over, his look of frustration immediately replaced with pure excitement...

It was a dud.

He slumps down, resting his head on his arm as he... pouts? Tapping his finger against the table as he watches the radio, waiting...]