#going through my Anons and trying to answer them all!!

[dina-winchester]

Just Let Me Take Care of You

Pairing: sick!Dean x You // Established relationship

Summary: Dean is sick and trying to hide it—you’re not having none of it.

A/N: thank you to anon for the request. 🩷 I hope I did it justice! I chose to go with sick Dean, instead of MOC Dean since I feel like the Mark made him more angry than nauseous.

Feel free to send in your requests. 🫶

You find him in the kitchen, hunched over the counter like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His coffee’s gone cold beside him, untouched. Dean’s skin looks off—too pale, flushed in the wrong places—and he doesn’t even lift his head when you walk in.

“Dean?”

“M’fine,” he mutters, throat thick, eyes squinting against the low kitchen light like it’s trying to kill him.

You step closer, fingertips grazing over the back of his arm. He’s burning up.

“You’re not fine,” you say softly. “You look like you’re about to hurl or pass out.”

“I’m not—” His sentence cuts off with a sharp inhale, his jaw tightening as he sways. You catch him with both hands at his waist, steadying him as he grips the counter harder.

He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Okay,” you murmur, keeping your voice gentle. “Come on. Back to bed.”

“I don’t need—”

“You do. You can barely stand up, baby.”

He still hesitates, but you nudge gently at his side, thumb brushing the hem of his t-shirt where it rides up. His stomach tenses like he might argue again, or throw up—honestly, it’s a coin toss.

Dean huffs, breath shallow. “Just… don’t make a big deal outta it.”

“No big deal,” you promise. “Just helping my very tough, very sweaty boyfriend lie down.”

He grumbles something under his breath that might be not sweaty, but lets you lead him out anyway. The second he hits the bed, he groans—deep, miserable—and curls halfway onto his side.

You press the back of your hand to his forehead again, watching his lashes flutter.

“Still think you’re fine?”

Dean mutters, “Shut up.”

You grin, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. “I love you too.”

A full-body shudder rolls through him, and he groans again, curling tighter.

You’re already slipping off his boots, tossing them to the floor. He doesn’t stop you.

“Want me to grab a bucket just in case?”

He doesn’t answer right away, then murmurs, barely audible, “Maybe.”

You return with it, set it beside the bed, then pull a cool washcloth over his forehead. He exhales like it’s the first breath that doesn’t hurt.

“This sucks,” he mutters. “Hate feeling helpless.”

“You’re not helpless. You’re just sick. Happens to the best of us.”

He squints one eye open, and there’s a tiny smirk there under all that misery. “I am the best of us.”

You laugh. “Glad you’re not too far gone to flirt.”

He reaches for your hand then, rough fingers squeezing weakly. “Thanks for… y’know. Not making it weird.”

You lie down next to him, resting your forehead against his temple, still clutching his hand.

“I like taking care of you,” you whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just swallows hard, like that admission means more to him than he’s ready to say.

Then, very softly, “I know. That’s why I let you.”

[thelawfulchaotic]

o mister lawyer of the internet do you have anything to teach us what do we say to a lawyer (or what do we do when we get one) how do you know if a lawyer is good or bad, and how much does it affect us what happens to the lawyer when you lose, or win -a very naive anon who wants more information

It is madam lawyer, I gotta slap my pronouns around here somewhere. (Ms./Mrs. feel bogus after you get called Madam Counselor enough times.)

Absolutely nothing happens to the lawyer. No matter how my clients cases go, I'm leaving the courthouse the same way I walked in, and I'm going to go sleep in a comfortable bed tonight in my safe home. Some people who try to be public defenders can't handle this, knowing that their clients are suffering while they aren't. Truth is, I need the sleep and the comfort and the safety to come through for the next client and the next and the next. I do my best not even to think about active work problems while at home (I think about them anyway).

If you get a lawyer, especially an appointed lawyer, CALL THEM. Do not wait for them to call you, because they have piles of cases and plenty to do. Don't be scared to be a little annoying, because they work for you. Leave a few messages, if they have administrative staff then make an appointment and show up for it. Best way to get a lawyer's attention is to be right in front of them when their schedule says to pay attention to you.

Whether a lawyer is good or bad will absolutely change everything. Lazy idiot attorneys just move their clients towards pleas. Energetic attorneys who litigate issues get a reputation for it, and they get better offers.

How you know a lawyer is good or bad is a pretty hard question to answer. There are a lot of things that make a lawyer good: they could be intensely well-researched, they could have an impeccable reputation that causes judges to listen to them when they make arguments, they could be from a locally-famous lawyer-judge-politician family which again causes judges to listen, they could be empathetic and good with client counseling. There are a ton of ways to be a good lawyer, and a ton of styles for being a good lawyer.

In general, a good lawyer will make you feel better after the interview than you did before. You'll have a good idea what the possible consequences could be and what the vague shape of some paths forward might be. You'll feel empowered in the sense that you'll know at least the important decisions are in your hands.

But those things are pretty easy to tell in the moment. Some more subtle red and.green flags that you might not know to look for are:

The lawyer pauses to look something up: GREEN FLAG. It's easy to mistake this for a red flag (lawyer doesn't know what they're doing!) but this is a sign of caution and thoroughness. Lawyers have to remember a lot, and the best know that they don't know everything.

The lawyer promises you results: RED FLAG. The lawyer is not in charge of the outcome and doesn't get to make the call. Weird shit happens in court all the time. No one making promises about the overall outcome can be trusted.

Lawyer won't give you a straight answer to your fucking question: completely neutral flag. Some questions don't have straight answers and lawyers love to say "maybe."

The lawyer makes some remark about the tendencies of the particular judge/prosecutor: most likely green flag. That lawyer is paying attention to their court and how it does things.

Lawyer is impatient and hard to connect with. Neutral flag. One of the most impatient attorneys with trouble with attorney/client relationships in the office is one of our best trial attorneys, and they get a lot fewer complaints after they win.

Shitty suit: Neutral flag. They should look put together, yes, but what a pain in the ass to put together a whole wardrobe of suits, much less GOOD suits.

Hitting on you: extremely red flag and possible ethical violation.

The rest is pretty easy to figure out on the fly.

As for what to tell them... confidentiality is absolutely real and very serious. The lawyer is not allowed to tell anyone else what you tell them. But some lawyers have different styles on what they ask. I'd say follow their cue, answer what they ask, but don't bury the lede, make sure to tell them the most crucial details. Bring documentation of stuff: text messages, screenshots, even diary entries. ER discharge notes. School transcripts. Whatever. Lawyers love documentation.

Honestly, I have so many great public defenders hanging around this blog, y'all can probably add some good stuff.

[phantasm-ae]

I want my boy Gaz some recognition 😭😭😭😭

Maybe the team will get to meet her🤨🤨🤨🤨

(okay but like imagine... Gaz having a wife similar to Price's and Ghost's wife like she is all sweet, loving, and caring... And then boom! She's Carrying Gaz like it's nothing! Like she has that Texas Cottage core vibe (is that even a thing?) like girl is sunshine and strength)

omg omg omg... im so sorry it took so long anon RAAAA. But! I have an ideaa hehehhe. Soo yk Rick and Morty?? Hehehhe well…

cw: chaotic afab reader x kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, slightly mad scientist afab reader, fluff

HEADCANON: The team meets Gaz’s bird. And well…. She was probably more than they’d expected

PAIRING: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x afab reader

Kyle has been dating her for months.

Wildly intelligent and hilariously blunt. Slightly feral lass who wears chaos like perfume and can talk about planetary physics and frogs in the same breath.

The kind who corrects documentaries mid-sentence, and once told Kyle after snooping through his documents, about how his missile trajectory calculations were “embarrassingly phallic,” and sincerely meant it.

And Kyle? Well... He’s absolutely gone for her.

Has been since day one when she marched up to him after attending a childhood friend’s lecture, shoved a melting popsicle in his hand, and said:

"If you had to save the world with only one mathematical constant, which one would you choose? Don’t think — answer!"

Caught between her unblinking stare and a rapidly dripping sticky mango mixture near his cargos, Kyle had only blinked twice and mumbled, “...Pi?”

“Coward,” she said, then grinned like she’d just met her new favorite problem.

That was it. Done. Hooked. Doomed, even.

And well Kyle?

Kyle, awestruck, bemused, and surprised — fingers and wrist sticky with artificial sugar and syrup. The gossamer and sweet liquid staining his newly acquired cargos — could only smile back and nod almost knowingly.

The 141 meet her months later though, during one of those rare in-between missions when there's time for drinks and dinner and recharging before the next chaos hits. But here he was. Fucking sweating and itching through and through.

Well it wasn’t like he never expected all their paths to cross eventually. He always knew she’d meet them. Meet this.

Introduce herself to this part of his life soon enough and not as an accessory or a passing visitor. But as something inevitable. Like gravity. Like sunrise. Something meant to be embedded into every bit of narrative she could sew herself into.

Because if Kyle was ever honest, she knew she wasn’t the kind of person you could keep in a separate drawer. No, never. Would never even think of ever shucking her away on some pent up flat or four-cornered bedroom. Pretty little bird kept and fed well with jewels and soft perches? No. That wasn’t her.

That was never going to be her.

Never.

She was storm and thesis, claws and questions, and Kyle -- sweet, brilliant Kyle -- knew it from the moment she walked into his life like a living paradox, equal parts catastrophe and charm. She didn’t visit chapters. She rewrote them. Annotated margins. Circled themes. Demanded footnotes.

So yes, he always knew.

She overflows. Gushes. Deluged. Trickles sweetly and syrupy into the vestiges of the gloomy part of his existence. Will spill into everything and into him. And Kyle, hopelessly, stupidly gone for her, will never really try to stop it.

So if he was being honest, some part of him had always imagined this moment -- her walking into the same room as the lads, sharp-tongued and starlit, leaving a trail of sparks in her wake. Not if. But more on when.

And now it was when.

But Christ was he still bloody nervous, aye?

Collar too hot and cap a bit too tight on his forehead, palms vaguely clammy like he was back in basic waiting to be called for his first ever inspection all over again. Which was stupid, because this wasn’t a mission. Wasn’t even a bloody op.

It was just.... her -- meeting the rest of his team.

And yet, Kyle was still internally combusting like she was a ticking biochemical warhead that could either charm the lads or annihilate the entirety of Price's backyard.

He glanced sideways at the entrance. No sign of her yet. Okay. Okay. That was fine.

Soap, across from him, was already two pints in and mid-rant about the correct ranking of fast food crisps, while Ghost sat with his arms crossed and offered the occasional low grunt of disagreement. Slow blinking in boredom and lazying around near some of Mrs. Price's potted plants.

Price nursed a whiskey like it was an old grudge and pretended not to be listening, albeit trying to stifle the slight quirk of his lip every time Soap seemed to look even more chauved and disgruntled at Ghost's lack of interest at the importance of learning the difference between Cheese-flavored crisps and barbecued ones. The younger bloke almost fuming at the disinterested and blased remarks he received from his superior. Snobbish over Ghost not knowing the based characteristics on Vinegar vs Vinegar-coated.

“She’s gonna love you lot,” Kyle muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“Still don’t get why you’re sweatin’ bullets, mate,” Price replies after sidling up next to Gaz after Soap started yelling at Ghost over the massive and weighty bastard choosing Walkers over Pringles, shaking his head with an amused grin. “You said she’s a wee genius, yeah? She'll be fine aye?"

“She's just.... odd” Kyle said after swallowing

Price’s eyebrows drooped a bit reassuringly. Boonie hat tilted, expression something between humoured and understanding -- the same look he gives rookies before a live op. “Odd’s never been a problem with us, son. You seen Soap’s sock drawer?”

“Ah sort them by how often I wear ‘em, obviously” Soap called out from the booth, clearly listening now after a huff. Stomping back to grab another pint. “It’s practical warfare.”

“Freak behaviour,” Ghost muttered behind his own drink.

Kyle exhaled a nervous laugh, glancing again at the door. “I just mean… she’s different. Proper brilliant, but she says things like ‘Diogenes walked so Newton could run,’ and she means it. Like, genuinely. She once argued with Siri and won.”

“She sounds like a bloody delight,” Price replied dryly, then gave him a nudge with his elbow. “C’mon. You think any of us are normal?”

Kyle looked down at his hands, a little calloused, a little sweaty. “She just means a lot. Don’t want her thinkin’ she’s gotta tone herself down for anyone. She deserves better than that”

Price’s voice lowered, sincere. “Then don’t let her. The team’ll love her for exactly who she is. Just like you already do.”

Kyle was about to respond -- probably with something sarcastic and choked-up -- when the door creaked open.

She walks through the gate carrying a box labeled “Absolutely Not Explosives (Maybe Snacks)”, wearing a bright-green button down with her usual tenured slacks and folded manila envelopes tucked in one pocket. Windblown, wide-eyed, her glasses sliding down her nose, and grinning like she just stepped out of a fever dream and into someone else’s backyard. Armed and saddled with that same barefoot-in-a-storm kind of confidence that had ruined him from day one.

“Hi!” she calls out.

And it’s not just a greeting -- it’s an announcement. A declaration of entry. Like Archimedes, entropy, and the snack box had all been waiting for this exact moment to collide.

Kyle’s heart stuttered once, then promptly gave up any hope of ever functioning normally again.

She beelined for him as usual like a woman on a mission, but halfway there.... she noticed the fire pit --

-- specifically, the way it was constructed.

Oh shit, not again.

She veered without hesitation, knelt next to it, squinting like she was analyzing a nuclear core, and muttered, “Someone built this using a Fibonacci spiral as emotional support.”

“Fuck's Fibonacci?”, Soap whispered loudly, nudging Ghost with his elbow. “This Gaz's lass then, aye?”

Ghost gave her a slow once-over. Head tilting a bit at her mismatched flats and patched pockets. “Bird looks like she drinks Red Bull and argues with God.”

Before Kyle could respond -- or run, depending on the emotional weather -- she reaches into the sleeve of her coat and yanks out a... suspicious-looking metal rod.

No one spoke.

Then -- click -- a blade folded out. But not like a normal blade. No, this looked like a half-melted Swiss Army knife made love to a soldering iron. Wires dangling at the bits of shorn metal. Clinking and sinewy it was. A button at the side of the make-shift handle blinking blue rapidly.

Yep. Something definitely hissed, Price concludes as he minutely flinches for the first time at the sight of something so foreign and obtuse near his wife's petunias.

Ghost tensed, gaze locked like he was trying to identify what kind of improvised weapon she’d just birthed into existence, while Soap -- daft numpty -- only leaned forward in fascination.

“What the fuck is that?” Price asked, calm but also not calm, the way a father might ask why there’s a raccoon in the dishwasher.

She didn’t look up. “Thermodynamic calibrator-slash-ultralight torch. Built it from scrap and spite. Give me a sec.”

Then she jammed it into the soil like she was performing surgery on the lawn. A sharp hum buzzed through the air. One of the lawn lights flickered. She squinted at the fire pit, adjusted a dial, then jammed the device again into the soil near the base. The fire pit roared to life, its flame suddenly tall and balanced, licking upward in a soft golden spiral. It was mesmerizing, a near-perfect bloom of heat and symmetry.

The men collectively leaned back.

“Hell's bells” Soap muttered.

She stood, smacked some dirt off her knees, and grinned with both pride and a worrying amount of glee. “There,” she said, adjusting a final dial before stepping back. “Now it distributes heat evenly -- low flicker rate, too, in case anyone here’s prone to headaches or, you know… prefers not to feel like they’re being interrogated by the sun.”

Her tone was light, but her eyes flicked briefly toward Ghost -- casual, gentle, like it was just an offhand observation. But Kyle caught it. The way she noticed things most didn’t. The way she chose to.

Soap leaned back slowly, a grin now stretching across his face like a man watching the birth of a new religion.

“I like her", Soap grinned.

Kyle was already up on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, love… you gonna say hi properly, or you planning to interrogate more of the landscaping?”

She stood up straighter now, poised and readied, like nothing was odd once more, turning with an inviting and warmy grin, holding the box up proudly with a small and enthusiastic wave. Almost like she didn't just reconstruct a fire pit with a weaponized calculator and a god complex. “Hi! Sorry, got distracted. The heat ratios were offensive. Also, I brought snacks!”

She shook the box once for emphasis. It jangled. The sound was deeply suspicious.

Ghost, once relaxed and a bit.... touched alarmed that someone picked up on his discomfort with flickering light without him saying a word, now sat a little straighter at that. Eyes sharp once again. Cautious and perched. Shoulders just barely tensed under his hoodie as something absolutely squeaked when she juggled the looming cardboard in her wry hands repeatedly.

Price side-eyed the box like it had a timer.

Soap was still smiling like he’d just found a new hobby. Gait shifting to approach her closer. Reading the “Absolutely Not Explosives" label aloud. “Tha's either a bloody threat or a right good promise.”

“Depends on who opens it,” she replied cheerfully, then smiled open and inviting, adjusting her grip to shake Soap's outstretched palm. Shoving the box right after to Kyle's chest. Price humming in amusement at the sight 'oof' Kyle breathes at the weight and mounty thing now in his grasp. A misguided care package from a mad scientist at that. He was sure of it.

Making him stagger a step back, having to catch it again with both hands as it tilted precariously to one side. Something clinked. Something else sloshed. Something definitely clicked.

Price hummed, one brow rising as he took another sip of whiskey. “She always gift-wrap danger?”

“Only on the holidays,” Kyle muttered, staring down at the box like it was about to start reciting code.

Meanwhile, she was already gripping Soap’s hand with a firm shake, her grin bright, chaotic energy radiating off her like a short-circuited sunbeam.

At his sergeant's words, Price shakes his head in hilarity and interest, a slight lift from his beard for a surprised smile before stepping forward himself and offering his own hand. “You must be the chaos professor.”

She blinked at his hand at that, his words making her pause but grin proudly, grasping his sinewy fingers firmly as well in return. “I’m not a professor. Yet. But I am a Doctor of Applied Theoretical Physics, with a minor in Quantum Physics”

“You’ll fit right in,” he replied, clearly entertained. “I’m John.”

“Captain John Price,” she said then, squinting. Almost like something just pieced itself together in her head. A corner of her glasses slightly blinking green and blue. However, light and subtle -- just a shimmer beneath the lens as if scanning data only she could see.

She tilted her head. “Ohhh. You’re the John Price. Task Force 141. SAS. Operation Kingfisher, the oil rig interception, three confirmed HVTs neutralized in twenty-one minutes. That John.”

Price raised a brow, his grip still firm in her handshake. “That’s a very specific résumé you’re rattling off.”

She grinned, shrugging. “I like to research my boyfriend’s coworkers. Helps me know what kind of cookies to bake and what kinds of extraction plans to draft in case things go horribly wrong. And can I just say for the record, that you truly have a ridiculously symmetrical face.”

Price chuckled low in his throat, that rare and gravelly sound of a man both flattered and bewildered. “Symmetrical, huh?”

She nodded, eyes narrowed with faux scrutiny. “Yep. It’s giving ‘military recruitment poster.’ Like someone made you in a lab to sell patriotism and protein powder.”

Soap let out a loud bark of laughter. “Och, she's clocked you dead-on, Cap"

Kyle was standing off to the side now, box still in his arms, looking like he was debating whether to set it down gently or hurl it into the bushes before something in it decided to hatch. “Please don’t feed her ego,” he called over. “It’s already got its own gravitational field.”

She shot him a wink at his response. “That’s rich coming from the man who cried at my thesis defense.”

“That’s -- I had a cold,” Kyle protested, cheeks already pinking.

“She presented using live fluid simulations and built a metaphor about dark energy and love,” he added for the others, like that would somehow make it less devastating.

Ghost muttered into his glass, “Startin' to think you didn’t pull her… bird drafted you.”

“She did,” Kyle said, deadpan. “I was conscripted.”

Price shook his head, that amused smile now tugging higher under his beard. “Well, Doc, welcome to the madness.”

She glanced at the squad -- all casually observing her like she was both a field report and an open flame -- and clapped her hands once, bright and fearless.

“Excellent,” she said. “Then I’ll make tea after this. Also, about that fire pit--”

Soap looked delighted. “Aye, that wee disaster? That wis me, cheers.”

She gave him a mock-somber nod. Almost cringing at Soap's enthusiasm as if it physically hurt her to try and school someone for something pointless and small at the end of the day. “I admire the conviction, Johnny. But the stones.... were holding a grudge.”

Ghost tilted his head. “Fuck do stones hold a grudge for?”

She looked at him over her glasses. “Vibrations. Like people. Only less dramatic.”

Soap leaned over to Price, muttering, “This one’s a unit. A proper mad scientist.”

Price snorted. “And you love it.”

“You know I do.”

Finally, Kyle placed the suspicious box on the table with the care of someone setting down a baby rattlesnake. “Alright, so are we opening this or performing a ritual?”

She lit up. “Both.”

Something beeped.

Ghost stiffened.

Soap leaned closer.

Price calmly took another sip of his whiskey like he was very used to seeing strange things unfold in his garden.

And Kyle?

He just grinned, wide and resigned, as she started peeling back the tape with the flair of someone revealing buried treasure. Because this was her. All of her.

Spilling and overflowing for sure. All light, wit, and kinetic mess. Sharp edges wrapped in cellophane, brilliance hidden beneath layers of glitter and chaos and a worrying understanding of black-market circuit boards. Solar flare in the shape of his other half is what it is.

But somehow. Bloody somehow.

Still. Will. And is --

-- utterly Kyle's.

“Alright,” she said brightly, flipping the box open now with a flourish, “Let’s play snack roulette!”

Revealing the inside of the malty cardboard now filled with neatly organized rows of tiny vacuum-sealed parcels, each labelled with suspicious enthusiasm:

Nutritionally Suspicious Brownies

Possibly Radioactive Jam -- Only Kyle's

Chili Lemon Cry-Biscuits

Emotionally Unstable Muffins

Entropy Taffy

Soap leaned in with glee. “Christ, ye name yer snacks like they’ve got emotional issues”

“They kind of are,” she replied, plucking out the Cry-Biscuits and casually tossing one to Ghost, who caught it one-handed with all the enthusiasm of a man expecting to be poisoned. He sniffed it once, then gave her a look.

“Why’s it humming.”

“Because it’s fresh,” she said simply, then added, “And also maybe reacting to trace particles in the air. The spice is… volatile.”

Ghost stared. “You trying to kill us bird?”

“If I was, you'd already be carbon scoring,” she chirped.

Soap popped one of the taffies into his mouth with a crunch. Immediately blinked. “Holy shite. I can taste colors!”

masterlist

[amacaronexpert]

Hello I really like your writing. Can I request about Aleph with reader who always sleep with their emotional support pillow? Like a small pillow that they were given since birth. They will have a hard time sleeping without it, and carry it with them every time they have to sleep outside. Will Aleph think it childish?

Sorry for my English, I'm just an alien who trying to learn human language 👽

Better hide from the government Alien Anon- or take me away from this Earth-

I would say that Aleph wouldn’t exactly think it would be childish, sure Dr. Merlin might think it is childish but even he understands that the pillow has importance to you, it was something given to the reader since they first gotten out of their mother’s womb, bundled with it in the tiny bassinet when the reader’s parents couldn’t hold them, and even having it all the way through adulthood, it doesn’t just supports Reader’s emotions or help them sleep. It was the most important part of Reader’s upbringing.

Plus Reader sleeping with ease with that pillow around, Aleph wouldn’t really judge since it keeps reader quiet and keeps you from waking up in the middle of the night to pounce on him.

The Idealist think it’s cute of Reader to still have the pillow, just composing a simple yet soft poem, the slow moments where the reader quiets down as they hold the pillow, their body curled up in a fetal position to sleep, Aleph is just watching them sleep, not moving an inch of the Reader is close by them.

The Answering Machine definitely keeps track of the pillow, many a time, the Reader is frantically searching for the pillow only for the Answering Machine to hold it up for the Reader to take. Any time he notices it in a place other than your bed, he nabs it to take it back to your bed.

And as much as Dr. Merlin acts like he could never touch the pillow. He does, ironically to hold you, in a sort of figurative way, just a quiet lone moment, his gloved hands touching the aged pillow, fingers caressing the soft fabric that many times cradled your head whether to weep into it out of sadness or scream into it out of frustration, your scent and your lingering warmth is still there. And when you are gone on missions, Dr. Merlin secretly holds it close to ground himself while grumbling about some random stuff.

Going to sleep outside, Aleph just hangs around you, whether observing, cooing at your form, or grumbling about how it is unnecessary, he is staying near your resting form, just watching over you as he ponders over transcendentality and his alter egos.

Remember, Aleph is constantly overwhelmed due to his Hyperthymesia, he doesn’t control what memories he remember, this point of exhaustion, he might use the Reader’s pillow to ground himself, let the exhaustion go, only for a bit, the pillow offers him a respite, to smell your scent, the lingering warmth, knowing that from the day that you were born, the pillow was there, he just quietly holds still, his face slowly resting into the pillow, almost mimicking you when you nuzzle into the pillow, before he takes a few long deep inhales, and exhales, as though he was about to go to sleep.

And then he remembers you…..

[woobiedoovo]

teen!ford chasing old!stan, who is oblivious to just how intensely ford lusts after him and keeps treating ford like a little brother/son!!!!!!!!!!!! head pats and praises and walking around in his slutty little tank top and boxers bc he's an old man who doesnt have to worry abt someone perving on him, completely unaware of the way ford eyes him so dirtily!!!!

teen!ford who is so flustered and frustrated by stan's behavior that he pops angry boners and constantly has to excuse himself. stan is sad because he thinks ford is avoiding him out of hatred. little does stan know that as soon as ford is out of stan's sight he's fisting his cock to the thought of bending stan over and showing that old man just how much of a grown up he is.

Literally going insane over this ask, thank you so much Anon. It’s a lot, so I’m putting it under the cut!

Teen!Ford with Old man Stan is one of my favorite tropes, especially when Stan is the bottom, (is that even a surprise at this point?) because teen Ford would be going feral around Stan. Whether it’s where Ford has been de-aged, a time travel incident, or it’s simply a world where Stan and Ford weren’t twins, Ford would be so fucking thirsty over Stan.

We’re going with the Grunkle Stan/Grand-Nephew scenario >:)) maybe I’ll expand on the others one day!!

So! Old man Stan is estranged from his family for many different reasons, but mainly because he’s a criminal and was disowned by his Father when he was a teen. But he was able to stay in contact with Shermie and his son, who eventually reached out to him about housing Ford for the summer. Apparently it was his last summer before he went off to college and his parents wanted the kid to have a good send off before he left.

Stan is fucking ecstatic, though a bit wary. He wasn’t the best influence, he knew that, and he hadn’t seen Ford since he was a itty-bitty baby. So he was a bit nervous about seeing the kid again.

Ford on the other hand was not looking forward to spending the summer in a hick town with his crook of a Great-Uncle. That was until he saw him.

The man was exactly his type. Broad and large, with greying hair and a crooked, yellow grin, and holy shit Ford was hard as hell. He almost fainted when he got home and found out what Stan’s home attire was, with his stomach hanging out for Ford to ogle. The man wore a girdle, hiding the absolute masterpiece of a body underneath it. It was blasphemous, and Ford needed to find that girdle and burn it immediately.

That night he masturbated to Stan, fucking into his fist and imagining it was the man’s mouth. He wanted to feel the man’s chapped lips around his cock. He wanted to grab his short grey hair and force him to take him whole, to choke on his dick. He wanted to look into those dough eyes and see them tearing up as he struggled to breathe.

The next morning Ford acted like he didn’t just cum the hardest he’s ever had in his entire life, and asked Stan to take him on a tour around town.

After that, he spent every moment of everyday trying to get close to his Grunkle, and slowly his lust transformed into love.

Stan is having the time of his life. He never realized how lonely he was until Ford came into his life. Now he had a little shadow that followed him everywhere. He started to see Ford as his own kid, and he has never been happier.

Of course he didn’t notice the way Ford looked at him. How whenever they hugged Ford’s hands rested just a bit too low on his back. How when Ford insisted they cuddled on the couch when they watched T.V. together he would bury his head in Stan’s chest, practically suffocating himself in his tits.

He didn’t notice how his clothes would go missing, only to appear a few days later like nothing happened. He didn’t notice when Ford would glare at anyone who dared to flirt with him. And he never knew that Ford had found that old porn magazine he had posed for in his storage room and practically worshiped the damn thing.

Ford has been trying to show Stan how mature he was the whole summer. He laid down his entire life plan (which involved going to West Cost Tech, getting 12 PHDS, becoming the lead researcher in CryptoZoology, getting married, and then spending the rest of his life researching anomalies) and Stan had only laughed and asked who he was planning on marrying. Ford couldn’t just blurt out that he was the one he was going to marry, and then had to suffer through Stan telling him how anybody would be lucky enough to marry him and how he’d meet the one someday, not knowing that Ford had already found them.

Ford was just happy Stan was still single. He had no idea how the man hadn’t been snatched up yet, he was literally sex on legs, but Ford was forever grateful.

After many, many more attempts to make Stan see him as something more than a little kid, he decides to take a more… unconventional method.

He started to try to seduce Stan. He’d walk around with no shirt, wear his green shorts he knew were way to short and hugged his dick and ass just right, he’d walk around in only a towel after showering claiming he forgot to bring his clothes to the bathroom with him, and he made sure to grunt and moan loudly every night when he was masturbating to that stupidly hot magazine he found of Stan.

Stan is literally going insane. Ford had been acting differently. He’s been walking around the house practically naked, he’s jerking off crazy loud at night, and he swears between the grunts and moans he’s hearing whispers of his name. This shouldn’t be turning him on so much, he shouldn’t be getting hard at the thought of Ford masturbating to him, so he starts to pull away from Ford. Maybe if he just avoided it, it would just all go away.

This, obviously, does not please Ford, and he decides that he was done playing games.

The next night, Ford corners Stan and confesses to him. He tells him about how he loved him, how he wanted to stay in Gravity Falls with him after he goes to West Coast, and how they were meant to be together.

Stan is trying to tell Ford that he’s just a kid, and that he was confused, but Ford isn’t having it.

He pins Stan down and starts to rut against him, wanting to show him that he wasn’t confused at all, and that he wanted him.

Stan has the strength to pull away, but he doesn’t. Whether it was because he wanted this or he didn’t want to hurt Ford, he was unsure. So he allowed Ford to press his dick against his hip and to pant and moan in his ear, talking about how good Stan felt, about how he’s wanted to do this since they met, how he couldn’t wait to fuck Stan.

Stan of course tries to pull away after that, knowing he’s let things get out of control, and as the adult he shouldn’t be encouraging this, but the way that Ford whined when he tried to move away made him freeze.

Ford trails his hands over Stan’s wife beater, pulling the tank-top under Stan’s armpits to suck eagerly at his chest, biting and pulling at his nipples in unpracticed, rough motions.

Stan would just moan and throw his head back, wrapping one hand around the back of Ford’s neck, just resting it there. He couldn’t encourage this, he repeated to himself, but the way Ford eagerly ran his hand over his body drove him insane.

Ford pulls back, eyes wide and pupils blown with lust as he stares at Stan’s now puffy, abused nipples. Gorgeous, his Grunkle was gorgeous.

“Not a little kid now, am I Grunkle Stan?” He’d say, sitting on Stan’s chest, tapping the man’s stubbled chin with the tip of his cock.

“I’ve been waiting for this since we met. Please Grunkle Stan, for me?” The way Ford’s lips curled around the words made Stan feel light headed, and he allows Ford to slowly inch his dick into his mouth, easily accepting the intrusion.

“Ah, I knew you’d be a good cock sucker Grunkle.” Ford whispers, slowly pumping his hips back and forth, gently fucking Stan’s mouth. Then, he’d grab Stans hair like he’s dreamed of doing and starts to jackhammer his hips, forcing his cock deeper and deeper into Stan’s throat. The old man’s gag reflex is non-existent, and he quickly deep throats the boys cock. Stan is gurgling and moaning under Ford as he fucked his mouth ruthlessly, and Ford’s thrusts grew more and more sloppy before he came, not allowing Stan to pull away, pumping his seed down the old man’s throat.

Collapsing on top of the man, Ford pants, exhausted. Stan is still recovering underneath him, mind racing, and he knows that the rest of the summer just got a lot more complicated.

[waterfallofspace]

Are you attracted to another person on snzblr (it’s obvious)🙄

so I normally delete attention seeking anon asks like this but uh. this is the third time i've gotten one like this, in the past, idk, week? so I'm guessing you're the same person so hey!!! let's talk about it

firstly, you uh? couldn't say this to my face? off anon? why not? if it's so desperately important to you to know who I may or may not be attracted to, something tooooootally your business in the first place, why not ask it face to face? mayyyyyybe because you know it's a shitty thing to ask, and don't want people to know it's you? hm. just something to think on <3

secondly!!! actually yeah, I'm attracted to a fair number of people on snzblr, that's. kinda a big part of what this space is used for. sharing things that are attractive to us with this kink and being attracted to them. isn't that just wild??? this community is really amazing that way, and I'm so happy and honoured to be a part of it. but, in the words of your previous asks, 'in love with', haha, no. and even if I was? that would be my business, maaaaaaybe something I'd share with them if we were both single/available and close in that way, buuuut that would still be my choice, and not something you would get to know about, especially hiding behind the anon <3

and thirdly!~ fuck off my blog please!~ <3 i answered this one because I'm getting a bit sick of this shit, and think you deserve to see that you are deeply unwelcome here talking like that!~ maybe if you fix up your attitude, try being polite, and stop hiding behind anon, we could have an actual conversation!~ but otherwise? go away <3 there's no room for you here, and I will not be answering any further drama seeking messages on this blog <3

consider that an official stance, I don't answer obviously drama seeking shit, so send it if you really feel so deeply that you have to, but know it's getting deleted and laughed at between my close friends <33

[ponyrepress]

I think we need to blow up the mouthwashing tag on every social media site

Solid fucking agree 🚬🐴

[deoidesign]

Can you make a tutorial on how you world build and make ocs? I can't seem to make any people in my brain, but then when I try to come up with environments jobs, beliefs and little details to slowly come up with someone, I think: well I don't really know how people have influenced the world- it's a weird loop

To be honest, I don't think I can! Writing is an extremely personal process. The way I write is directly related to how I process things, what I find important in stories, years of my own analysis of my and other's writing, etc... The way you write will be unique to you, as well. But I can explain how I personally think of it.

The short answer:

Write. Write anything and everything, it's a tool to explore your ideas. Analyze your own writing, and write more. Then, as you discover which ideas you want to develop, write more to explore them more. You won't know what you want otherwise!

The long answer:

I think this kind of loop is common. It's easy to feel like everything needs to be done "at once," because our job as writers is to make elements logically fit with each other for our readers. But as you've discovered, developing multiple elements simultaneously isn't really possible, or at least is extremely difficult.

Personally, when I think of writing, I break it into three major elements; characters, world, and plot. As much as possible every scene explores one or more of these, and as much as possible these three things tie back into what I personally consider most important: theme.

Everything I do is in service of the themes I want to present. Without them my events feel aimless. It can take a while to discover them, but they're the core of my work. You will have to discover what you feel is the core of yours. Analyzing other media helps with this too.

Concepts in your brain exist in a state of infinite potential. But when you start writing you have to start making choices, which removes potential as you move forward... But you have to move forward anyways. If there's ideas you want to explore later, you can always explore them later.

What this ends up meaning, to answer your question, is that I don't think of my characters as "people in my brain" or my worlds as something people have influenced... Not at their core, at least. They are tools that I use to represent specific ideas. Obviously they're also my blorbos, but mostly they're serving a specific narrative purpose.

So above all else... Write. Write, and discover what you're writing about, and then start over and write with that in mind. Keep doing this. But you have to write!

[erros429]

out of curiosity how many asks do you have backed up /gen

uhhhmmmm……… 227………..

[piningpercussionist]

hey hi uh would you be able to check if y'all have The Land Before Time IV back in stock yet?

Sure thing- one moment.

*Kim turns to the monitor and pulls the keyboard a little closer to herself before she starts typing away. After a minute, she slides it back to it's original spot and turns back to the customer.*

It looks like we do, yeah. It should be in our Kids and Family section- let me know if you need help finding it.

[jokeringcutio]

u should do arthur harrow / evil, condescending, manipulative

do you like a big bully /that is good in bed?

u should do arthur harrow / evil, condescending, manipulative I should. It's about time we get some more Harrow content again.

do you like a big bully /that is good in bed? I don't know. I never tried one. 🙃

[thestarsaboveme]

Reader thinks the Lads men are cheating with MC

masterlist

this was a request from a kind anon.

summary: angst with comfort, reader and lads men having a misunderstanding because reader is overthinking that they’re cheating on her with the mc since they always spend time with the mc and spending less time with the reader.

xavier ver. | rafayel ver. | zayne ver. | caleb ver.

sylus x reader | angst/comfort

You were used to Sylus being quiet.

Not cold. Just…quiet.

So when his messages started getting shorter, when his gaze didn't linger as long on yours, when his kissed turned into brushes of habit more than affection, you didn't notice right away.

Until it started to hurt.

-

You saw them again.

Sylus and MC in the lab.

Her laughter reached you before their voices did. Sylus stood beside her, arms crossed, watching her monitor as she demonstrated something. He wasn't smiling. But he also wasn't pulling away like he did with most people. He was listening. Engaged.

You waited for him to notice you.

He didn't.

After ten minutes of watching from the hallway, you left.

-

Are you free tonight?

You messaged him later.

We haven't spent time together in a while.

He didn't reply for two hours.

Can't. Late testing with MC. Tomorrow?

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow. It was always tomorrow.

-

You told yourself you were being irrational. That he'd always been closer to MC, given their compatibility, their shared background, their synced missions. This his loyalty ran deeper than words, and if he was cheating, you'd know, right?

But your gut twisted every time you saw them together. Every time he mentioned her like she was another heartbeat.

And tonight, as you sat alone in your room again, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You called him.

He answered on the second ring, voice calm. ''Hey. Everything okay?''

''No,'' you said, and your voice cracked more than you meant it to. ''Can you come over?''

A pause. ''Now?''

''I need to talk to you, Sylus. Please.''

A longer pause. Then: ''I'm on my way.''

-

When he arrived twenty minutes later, he looked tired. Dark circles under his eyes. His hair slightly disheveled from running his fingers through it too many times. He took one look at your expression and stepped in without a word.

You stood by the couch, arms folded across your chest.

He said nothing at first, just watched you. Waiting. Patient.

That made it harder.

''Are you cheating on me with MC?''

The words came out like broken glass.

Sylus blinked. No dramatic reaction. No flinch. Just stilness.

Then a slow, quiet, ''No.''

You let out a shaky breath. ''Then why does it feel like you're never here anymore? Why does it feel like you replaced me with her?''

Still calm, he asked, ''Is that what you think I've done?''

''I don't know what to think, Sylus!'' you snapped, voice rising. ''You've been with her constantly. You talk about her like she's in your head all the time.'' You make time for her, not me. And I sit here, waiting like I'm some background character you forgot about.''

He stepped forward slowly. ''You're not.''

''Then explain it to me,'' you whispered. ''Because I'm tired of guessing where I stand with you.''

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Quietly, heavily.

''There's nothing going on between me and MC,'' he said. ''But I haven't made that clear. That's on me.''

You swallowed hard. ''Then why have you been so distant?''

He hesitated, then moved to sit on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees. Not his usual posture. He looked vulnerable. Smaller, somehow.

''I've been working with MC on some dangerous tech,'' he said slowly. ''There were…anomalies in her readings. We thought they were unstable. I needed to make sure she was okay.''

You frowned. ''So you were protecting her?''

''I was doing my job. I was trying to prevent another incident. Something like what happened to me.'' He looked up then, eyes locking onto yours. ''And I didn't want you anywhere near it.''

You hesitated. ''Why not tell me that?''

He looked away again. ''Because if you knew, you'd want to help. You'd want to be involved. And I couldn't handle the thought of something happening to you.''

Silence fell between you.

You sat beside him on the couch, not touching.

''You think keeping me in the dark is protecting me?''

''I thought I could carry it all without hurting you,'' he said. ''But I was wrong.''

You exhaled. ''You made me feel like you were slipping away. Like I was being replaced by someone who understands you better.''

His jaw tightened. ''No one understands me like you do.''

You met his eyes again. ''Then why couldn't you just say that?''

He stared at you for a long time.

And finally, he said, ''Because you're the only person who makes me feel like I'm still human. Like I'm more than what I was built to do. And that scares me more than anything.''

Your heart clenched.

''Sylus…''

''I'm not used to needing someone,'' he admitted. ''But I need you. And I didn't know how to say that without feeling like I was putting you in danger.''

''You're not,'' you whispered. ''You're just hurting both of us instead.''

He nodded, slowly. ''I know. I'm sorry.''

You reached out, brushing your fingers against his hand. He didn't move away.

''I don't want to be protected from your truth, Sylus,'' you said. '' I want to stand beside you, not behind you.''

he finally turned his hand over, letting your fingers intertwine.

''I can try,'' he said softly. ''If you'll let me fix this.''

You leaned into his shoulder, the silence between you no longer cold. But healing.

''I want to,'' you said. ''But next time…talk to me.''

''I will,'' he promised.

And somehow, in that quiet, broken space between heartache and hope, you began to believe him.

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for anon

Request: orc x female with cum inflation, breeding, ferel sex, and size kink?

A/N: This has no much plot, or plot at all… it’s just very, very filthy. Enjoy!

Dick imprint

Orc x fem!reader || cum inflation, breeding, feral sex (light), size kink || tw: pregnancy mention

When your husband told you he wanted to have mating sex, you thought it would be as any other sex you had, but you aren’t expecting his body to become bigger, harder, wider… The second you see the change, your pussy is clenching in need and your insides are twisting in anticipation. He stands before you with a raging erection as you pant.

“Suck,” he instructs, pressing two of his fingers to your lips. You open your mouth obediently, your tongue playing around his fingers until he grunts. He presses down against your tongue, caressing it and making your pussy so wet you feel your juices running down your thighs. “Such a good girl, you are going to take me so well, aren’t you?” You nod against his fingers, sucking hard and groaning.

He pulls back his fingers, kissing your now wet lips and pushing your legs further apart, falling between them as you pant. He stares down at your cunt, making you all kinds of flustered, but his body is so big that you can’t close your legs, you can’t hide away from him.

“Look at that sweet pussy, I’m going to fill it so well. You are going to take me so well, little mate.” His words ignite a fire inside of you, arching your back in a try to get your needy pussy closer to the huge bulge in his pants. He chuckles. “How brave, trying to bait me? Not happening.” And then he pushes his two wet fingers inside your pussy without preamble. You scream his name as he finger-fucks you relentlessly, carelessly… And you fucking love it.

His eyes are blown wide, so dark you can barely see the hazel color they used to be. He’s panting as he finger fucks you, his precome forming a wet patch against his pants that has your mouth watering. But when he curls his fingers just right, you can’t do anything but to close your eyes and roll your hips against his hand. He praises you, but your ears are ringing too loud for you to process his words. He adds another finger and you feel like you are about to burst.

He’s so big.

His fingers are bigger than any toy you ever tried… and his dick is even bigger. You are trembling in anticipation, and when he presses hard against your G-spot, you see fireworks behind your eyelids as the first of many orgasms crashes over your body. You scream incoherently as he finger-fucks you through it.

“Just like that, little mate. Let it all out, let me see how good you feel around my fingers. You are going to feel even better around my cock, aren’t you?” Your mouth is too dry to answer. He pulls back his fingers, patting your pussy like it’s nothing more than a pet, and you shiver, your whole body reacting to that little degradation.

You whisper his name, and he looks up at you. “I need more. I need you.” If you thought his eyes were dark before, you know nothing.

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, he’s tearing his pants in half, and roaring like a monster. His green skin is flushed all over, and his tusks look dangerous against his skin, but you can’t be worried, you can’t do anything about it but whine in need as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock.

He turns you around, pushing your hips back until you are on your knees, face pressed against the mattress. “Come on, little mate, let me in…” He pushes a bit harder, the tip of his cock entering you with what feels like a pop. Stars dance in your eyes, the stretch is impossible and your body is trying to fight it, but his still wet fingers rub over your clit, and you moan, your body relaxing enough for him to slip a little bit further. “Just like that, come on, you are doing so well…”

He goes slow, panting as if it’s running a marathon, speaking nonsense as he fills you little by little. He feels so big you can’t talk. You can feel him in the back of your throat and you are sure he’s not even half-way in. You are going to explode at any moment, but he keeps going. And going. And going...

By the time he’s completely inside, your body is his. You are nothing but a toy for him to use and you are in fucking heaven. He starts slow, allowing you to adjust to his girth as he praises you, your pussy clenching around him and making him grunt and whine. That makes you hotter.

But he starts to talk, you are done for. “I’m gonna fill you up until you are overflowing, until your cunt is so full of me that you can taste me in the back of your throat.” You whine at his words, your mouth hanging open over the pillow as he pressed your face to it. “And you are going to take it all, aren’t you? Your hungry pussy is gonna take all of me.”

You try to nod, but he’s holding you down, so you just groan, rolling your hips back against his erection, making him grunt and pull back a friction, just to slam back into you as a punishment. Your eyes roll back into your head, the pleasure so high you can’t even process it, your mind blank.

“Do you want to be bred? Do you want to carry my orc children, little mate?” You clench around his length accidentally, his words making your insides twist. You can’t say no to him, so you just nod mindlessly against the pillow as you feel his cock hitting your cervix.

The knowledge that you can be pregnant, that he could breed you completely drives him into his more primal understanding of mating. Leaving behind the sweet words and praises, a roar leaving his mouth and making the windows rattle as he grabs your hips with a bruising force. And then he starts to fuck you in earnest.

You let go, and an earth-shattering orgasm rocks your body, a silent scream breaking your throat as he fists your hair and fucks you harder. The skin against skin sounds are deafening as his heavy balls hit your clit over and over. He’s so big, and he’s filling you so well that you don’t know if you are still coming or the pleasure is truly that insane.

He starts to come, and you follow right after, your body responding to his hot come inside your pussy, so deep… He screams your name, his dick not getting soft, only harder. He fucks you through another orgasm, filling you again. And then he does it again. And again. You know how long he can last, but you never had him like this… this feral… And you can only guess his stamina has only improved.

At some point, he turns your body around, manhandling you until your legs are over his shoulders and he’s hitting home once again. His dick feeling huge inside of you, your pussy quivering as one of his fingers finds your clit, and he starts rubbing mercilessly. You scream when the first shot of his cum fills you. But it doesn’t stop. He keeps coming and coming, his seed overflowing and gushing around his dick as he fucks you thru it.

You look down in time to see your lower abdomen bulging with each thrust, the tip of his cock so deep you can see it. You scream his name, another orgasm rushing over you as he roars in victory, more shots of his come hitting you deep.

You look down in time to see your stomach bulging, so much come inside of you it feels like you could burst, but he’s not done with you. And neither are you. You keep rolling your hips, trying to get him deeper, harder… He complies, so much dick… so much come… You don’t know where you end and he begins, but you can’t care. You only care about the molten lava seed inside of you, the amount of it and how it sloshes around his dick as he keeps fucking more and more inside of you.

By the time he’s spent, you don’t know how much time has passed, you only know that you are a mess of fluids inside and outside. Your pussy feels tender and abused, and you can feel every single drop of his come gushing down your tights. You are sure the bed is a mess, but you can’t care. He picks you up and walks to the bathroom, helping you into a bath and cuddling until you fall asleep…

[asiatic-apple]

Smut prompt 2 is def a sylus fic with a female reader. I will like he would do this at a fancy hotel after taking the reader on a date

Yessss anon you were so right for this req! I’m a little worried the actual smut is rushed bc I was trying not to keep this too long LOL but hopefully you still like it <3

Reminder: requests are closed!

On display

Sylus x female reader

Words: 1.3k

Prompt: sex in front of a big window where anyone could glance up and spot them

Content: reader wears a dress and heels, use of "kitten" and "sweetie" as pet names, exhibitionism, possessive sylus, creampie

After a fun night on the town, you’re a bit tired on your feet. Your heels were abandoned as soon as you and Sylus entered the hotel suite he chose for the weekend. And now, the two of you watch the city skyline in quiet contentment.

The soft shimmer of your dress glints across the glass window in front of you. It’s a beautiful satin that complements your complexion perfectly. When you shift, the high slit along your right thigh exposes just a little more skin than might be deemed appropriate. But Sylus insisted you wear it to dinner tonight—even if you felt a little out of place with how elegant it is.

He stands behind you, his large reflection framing yours as you get lost in the sight of the city glittering beyond the glass like spilled jewels. His fingers trail down your spine, slow and deliberate, until they settle at your waist.

“I chose this suite for the view,” he says, lips curving in that gorgeous smile of his. “What does my little Hunter think of it?”

You know exactly where this is going.

Tonight isn’t about the view or the fancy dinner or even the indulgent hotel suite. Not entirely. It’s about a conversation you’d had not even two weeks ago, curled up in his lap.

You had hesitated before admitting it—that quiet itch that had been lingering at the back of your mind. You’d told him, breathlessly nervous, that you wanted to try something risky. But only if it wasn’t in Linkon or the N109 zone.

You didn’t want the possibility of being seen by someone who knew you—or someone who might run into you again—even if that chance was small.

And Sylus, ever the attentive lover, had listened to your little fantasy carefully. He'd kissed your temple and murmured, “Then I suppose we’ll need a setting worthy of your imagination, kitten.”

So the moment you stepped into the penthouse suite earlier tonight and saw the floor-to-ceiling windows and the gleam of the skyline outside, you knew.

He’s giving you exactly what you asked for. And now he’s wondering if you’re still up for making fantasy a reality.

Your pulse quickens, anticipation winding tight in your belly. You’ve both been building to this all night—his fingertips drifting over your thigh under the dinner table, the occasional lean-in to whisper sweet promises about what he planned to do to you once you got back.

And now, with the city sprawled out before you and his voice low in your ear, there’s no turning back.

His fingers play with the thin straps of your dress, slowly sliding them down your shoulders as he holds your gaze in the reflection of the glass.

“It’s not too late to back out, sweetie,” he says. “Do you still want this?”

You shudder as you stare out at the city. The floor you’re on is high above the streets full of whizzing cars and busy passersby. But it's not so high that someone couldn’t glance up and catch the faint silhouette of your body pressed against the pristine, clear glass.

And that thought makes your skin burn hotter with need.

You nod eagerly before blindly reaching back for Sylus’s silver hair and raking your fingers through it with a desperate little whine. It’s all the answer he needs to gently tug the top of your dress down, baring your chest to the world below.

“A-ah, Sylus,” you hiss in surprise, heat rising to your cheeks as your pebbled nipples graze against the glass. But you’re not protesting, exactly. Just vocalizing how wrong this feels and how much you love it.

He brushes your hair to one side and presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “Let them look,” he growls by your ear, “if they’re lucky enough to catch a glimpse.”

One hand snakes along your waist, and you begin to realize why Sylus insisted you wear something with such a high slit. It makes it easier for him to slide his fingers beneath it and stroke over the cotton of your panties without bunching the long dress up around your waist.

You gasp when his fingers graze the dampness you’ve shamelessly left there.

“You’ve been wet since the appetizer, haven’t you?” Sylus chuckles, knowing all too well the effect tonight has had on you so far. You whine at his teasing, but he just smiles against your skin. “I saw the way you crossed your legs every time I touched your thigh at dinner. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

He hooks your panties to the side with a quiet hum of approval, his fingers dipping past your slick folds to spread your arousal up your slit. You tremble, your head falling gently against the glass as you sigh in pleasure.

The soft buzz of his pants zipper cuts through the stillness of the hotel room, and more of your wetness coats his fingers in anticipation of what’s to come. He can feel that you’re more than ready for him—and neither of you can wait any longer.

Sylus gently nudges your feet, murmuring, “Bend over a bit, sweetie.”

The position feels a bit awkward at first, one cheek pressed against the window while you stick your ass out for him behind you. But when you hear the quiet rustle of clothes and feel his large hand slide your dress up around your hips, you don’t care about the cool sting of the glass against your bare skin. 

He yanks your panties to the side again and finally pushes his cock inside you slowly. The familiar pleasure of being stretched so perfectly makes you brace your hands against the glass and gasp.

You keep your eyes on the city below, heart pounding in your chest as his body molds to yours and presses you harder against the window. He fucks you with deep, measured strokes, each one drawing out a moan you barely try to stifle.

“Look,” he whispers, “there are people walking by. One glance from them, and you might gain an audience.”

Your breath hitches as you see the people on the ground below, all oblivious to the show you’re putting on for them. You’re grateful the room behind you is just barely lit. In the back of your mind, you know no one would be able to get a full glimpse of your body.

They can’t see the way your pussy glistens and greedily swallows Sylus’s thick girth. They can only see the shadow of two figures merging into one—and maybe the way your tits bounce with each sharp thrust of his hips—if they even dare to look hard enough.

But it’s the possibility of being caught that makes your cunt clench tighter around him, dragging a low groan from his throat.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks as he trails his lips along your neck. “Letting the whole city watch me ruin you…”

His hips snap harder once—just once—and your knees nearly give out. He steadies you, possessive even in the smallest gestures, his hands firm where they hold your waist.

“Careful,” he warns, voice rough with arousal. “Don’t fog up the glass too much, sweetie. They need to have a clear view of you.”

Your whimper stutters into a moan when he thrusts again, setting just the right pace that always makes you fall apart for him. His hand slides around your front, fingers finding your clit to rub slow, teasing circles.

“Let go for me,” he commands softly. “Let them see how beautiful you look when you come.”

After a few more hard thrusts, you break with a strangled cry, pulsing around him and shuddering against the window. Your release comes in waves, tightening every muscle in your body. Sylus fucks you through it, gritting out a low curse as he spills deep inside you with a long groan.

For a moment, there’s only your ragged breaths and the thrum of the city below.

Then he kisses your shoulder again, reverent this time. “So gorgeous,” he praises you softly.

You turn to face him, still breathless, and he cups your jaw for a slow and sweet kiss—the kind that promises more. And when he pulls you toward the bed with that look in his eyes, you follow without hesitation.

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[asxgard]

Open Secret | one shot

Dr. Frank Langdon x chief resident!fiance!f!reader

Requested

Summary: A patient just won’t take no for an answer — making your relationship with Frank all the more obvious.

[ Masterlist ]

Anon Request: request for Frank and the reader where they are engaged and enjoy the privacy until the patient the reader is consulting on, continuously asks her out and ignores how she says no. Just making the reader uncomfortable

Note: I apologize for how long this took! I hope you like it

Word Count: 1.5k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content

Warnings: foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, patient making reader uncomfortable, reference to past violence against healthcare workers, sexual harassment

not beta read

It had taken Frank a lot of hard work, but he came out on the other side — now an attending in the Pitt. You had been promoted to chief resident, and then came his proposal. Sweet, to the point, after a fancy dinner and a vow of everlasting love. You had, of course, said yes.

The Pitt was known as a gossip mill for a reason, so while you never wanted to keep your relationship a secret, you wanted it private.

Especially to keep as much stress off Frank as possible.

You had seen him through his hardest times, and he had promised you the best after rehab, from there on out. Robby was hesitant and made his caution obvious, but the Pitt ran on as normal.

After busying yourself for most of the morning, you began evaluating the next patient, trying not to ground your teeth in annoyance. You were a pretty woman, but patients flirting with you almost always set you on edge. You had to laugh it off, smile, gesture to the engagement ring on a chain around your neck and try to let them down easy — rinse, repeat whenever necessary.

This patient — a thirty-five year old male with a scruffy beard and a helluva lot of persistence — was only souring your mood further. Frank had been freed from the confines of resident overtime, but you were still expected to pull your fair share, even as chief resident.

“Come on,” he drawled, “I can take you out, relax you real nice.”

His shit-eating grin sent shivers down your spine.

You forced a smile, “I’m sorry, it’s unethical to go out with any patients of mine. And I don’t think my fiancé would be all too thrilled.”

You tried to busy your hands on the computer, going over his history. He had cut himself pretty good on a construction site, and then proceeded to faint, hitting his head on his way down.

“He clearly ain’t doin’ his job! You’re wound tighter than—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Halverton, I’m going to go order your MRI. I’ll be right back.” You were quick to exit the room, throwing a warning glance at Perlah who was coming into the room.

At the charge desk, Frank immediately caught onto your foul mood, as you were typing forcefully like it might calm you.

“What did that keyboard ever do to you?” Frank asked, a smile lilting his voice.

“You know if MRI is backed up?” You asked instead of answering.

“Aren’t they always?”

Your frown deepened.

“Something wrong?”

You let out a long sigh and shrugged, “I can handle it.”

He raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t say anything. You excused yourself to check on a few other patients. You were just wasting time, but why was this patient getting to you? You had certainly dealt with worse. With a huff, you figured to just face your problem head on and move on with it. Once he was stitched, you would have no other reason to see him except to check on him — and surely, you could pass that off to Mel or Whitaker.

“Sugar!” He said as you entered, and you winced.

You reiterated your name to him, repeating your last name twice so perhaps he would catch the hint.

“Aw, your boyfriend not use pet names with you, dollface? You not used to a man’s affection? That’s a damn shame.”

Your jaw tensed, “Fiancé.” You corrected tersely, “Now I don’t talk about any personal matters at work, especially with my patients — so if you could stop, I would appreciate it.”

“Appreciate it enough for a date?”

Your eyes flickered to his chart again, double checking he wasn’t drunk or high. Both negative, so he was just an irritating dick who couldn’t take no for an answer. Had you been at a bar, you would have at least been able to walk away, or leave — but you were getting close to passing him off to Frank or Robby and just be done with it.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“Feisty! I like it.” He chuckled before wincing, looking back down at the gash along his arm. “Maybe you can kiss it and make it all better? Sure would love that mouth—”

“Mr. Halverton, we need to get you stitched up.” You said, cutting him off, “Let me go get that set up for you.”

While Mel was capable, Whitaker made more sense — plus he was less likely to be flirted with. You could supervise and hopefully that would force the man to shut up.

As always, Whitaker was happy to help — especially when you offered to get him a muffin afterwards. He had been confused by the offering until he stepped into the room.

“Oh, sugar, he ain’t gonna do — I want you.”

Your jaw locked into place and Whitaker looked back at you with wide eyes.

“Mr. Halverton—”

“Ted, please.”

“Mr. Halverton, this is a teaching hospital and Dr. Whitaker is a very capable resident.”

Mr. Halverton’s eyes flickered between you, then he raised a brow. “And I can refuse. I want to be seen by someone who’s not a resident.” He smirked like he had won, “Know you want to get your hands on me, come on.”

A dangerous smile curled on your lips, “Well, if that’s what you want, then I will be sure to do that for you. Whitaker, come with me. I’ll be right back, Mr. Halverton.”

You escorted Whitaker out of the room, eyes scanning for Robby.

“That guy’s a real piece of work.” Whitaker said, glancing back to the room.

“You get used to it.” You told him, leaning on the charge desk.

Whitaker frowned, “You shouldn’t have to.”

You let out a long sigh, “You’re right, but we still do. Can you go find a nurse for me? I’m going to get Robby.”

Whitaker raised a brow in question.

You smirked, “I’m still a resident.”

His eyes lit up at the revelation, smiling to himself. He darted off to find a nurse.

Frank slid beside you, “Looking for someone?”

“Have you seen Robby?”

“Trauma-1. Can I help with something?”

You pursed your lips, “You’re not going to like him.”

He raised an eyebrow and you drank in his handsome features. His smile and blue eyes always seemed to steady you, and the deep breath you took felt like you had finally gotten some air.

“Patient wants someone who isn’t a resident.” You explained with a shrug. “Just needs some stitches and an MRI.”

Frank hummed beside you, “I’m free for a few minutes, want me to take a look?”

You side-eyed him, “You’re really not going to like him.”

“Puh-lease, I could do stitches in my sleep.”

“Alrighty then, Central-5.”

Frank disappeared into the room with Princess trailing behind him with a suture kit. You glanced back up at the board, looking for something on the other end of the Pitt. You made small talk with Dana as you assessed who would be your next patient.

“Give a guy a little warning next time.”

You jumped, startled by Frank suddenly beside you.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like him.”

Frank narrowed his eyes at you. “He kept demanding to see you and I informed him you were a resident — our best resident, but still — and I was going to be handling his case. He was pissy and uncooperative after that. Said he needed your number because I quote, ‘her boyfriend clearly isn’t satisfying her’. Boyfriend.” Frank’s lips set into a deep frown at the last part.

“Why did you think I wanted Robby for a cut-and-dry suture?”

With a frown, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are you pouting?”

“No! Just…”

“He was being a pig, Frank. Every time I steered him away from flirting with me, he rounded back with even more persistence and gross comments. Even after I reminded him about the morals of going out with a patient, having a fiancé and being generally uninterested. Several times.”

“You could’ve come to me sooner.” He said. “Could’ve gotten Ahmad to stand in there with you.”

“I was uncomfortable, Frank, not in danger.”

“You know things can escalate from 0 to 100 around here. You deserve to be safe and not be harassed.”

You sighed, remembering all the times it had, “Yeah, I know.”

He rubbed his hands along your arms with a sincere smile, “Gotta ask for help if you need it, sweetheart.”

“Not sure asking my fiancé to come in to fend off guys flirting with me will really deescalate the situation.”

He scoffed, “I’ll defend your honor every day of the week. As your attending…and maybe a bit as your fiancé.”

You chuckled, “Did you give him a piece of your mind, then?”

A sly smirk stretched across Frank’s lips and that was answer enough.

“He wasn’t so subtle.” Perlah said, dropping off a chart.

“So I suppose our engagement will be the shot heard ‘round the world.”

“Engaged? Thought you were only dating, congratulations!” Princess said, coming to stand next to Perlah, who undoubtably had gossiped about Frank’s interaction with Mr. Halverton.

For as much as an open secret you regarded your relationship, Perlah’s voice carrying across the Pitt made it much more open and not so secret.

And honestly? You were okay with that.

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I’m really struggling to get through these requests huh lol most of my hyperfixation has switched to the mcu whoops

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

Could i request some general headcannons about various mechs (tfp) with a way taller reader? 🙏

Just like how they feel about it or if they allow you to pick them up etc (maybe even about having a sparkling thats also taller than them 💀)

Choice of who is all yours as long as soundwave is included

♡ [TFP] CONS WITH A TALLER S/O & sparkling!!!

i love this ask and thought it was so cute and funny... anon, i love you for this mwah. my first time answering an ask yay

warnings: mildly suggestive

including: Megatron, Soundwave, Starscream, Shockwave and Knockout

Megatron:

— He's not sure what to feel about it. At all. On one hand, he absolutely despises having to crane his helm up to see you. The warlord wasn't used to it in the slightest at the start and it took a long time to get accustomed to it. After all, he's usually the biggest mech in the room.

— But at the same time, he believes he deserves the best. A bot who can match up with him when it comes to strength and dominance, he finds it more thrilling that way. So he isn't exactly upset about it.

— Just because you're his s/o doesn't mean he'll be soft on you in public! It's hysterical to watch him bark out orders as he's tilting his helm up to meet your gaze. And don't you dare hunch your backstruts down to make it easier for him! He will visibly scowl. It's like you're insulting him for being short when you're just too damn big!

— Pick him up? Don't be ridiculous! He will never let anyone pick him up. Even if you were Primus himself. The only time Megatron willingly lets himself get carried away by you is if he's that injured. Even then, the best you can do is support him as he limps.

— But him, carrying you? Oh ho ho ho. He has the exact opposite feeling about it. Megatron loves it. It's like he gets to show off just how strong he is and he is insanely strong. He loves having you full on bridal style in his servos with a look of disapproval as he's got a cocky smile flashing right at you.

— If you try to surprise him, his battle instinct will flare and he will absolutely one hundred percent accidentally hit you smack across your helm and send you flying half way through The Nemesis. Megatron would be baffled you even attempted such a thing and might even feel a little bad about it.

— A bit NSFW but Megatron will love the idea of dominating a bot bigger than him, the ego rush he gets is gratifying. Also will fold like a lawn chair if you try seducing him.

— Now if there is a sparkling involved and said sparkling is bigger than him? Again, very, very mixed feelings. It was like yesterday his little starlight was just up to his hipstruts, begging to be carried up with wide optics and now he has to look up at them? Megatron is going to look at them and just zone out sometimes, how much have they grown… How quickly has time passed? But they're still not fully matured yet, so they're still his ‘little’ starlight… but they're not little anymore and it physically hurts his spark when he thinks of it.

— However, he is really happy to know that his child is intimidating and scares others. It makes him feel proud. It's like living up to Megatron's name. But because of that, he might have some skewed expectations of his sparkling. He's like a strict father in every sense of the word and he's got targets he would want them to meet.

— Imagine his amusement when his overgrown Cybertronian equivalent of a twelve year old frightens the wits out of Starscream. Proud fatherly tears, if he could shed any.

Soundwave:

— Soundwave has absolutely no issues with it in the slightest. If anything, he actually likes it. More area for his data cables to wrap around you.

— He also doesn't really mind being picked up by you. Like he won’t say he hates it or likes it, he's indifferent about it mostly. But he absolutely hates it when you pick him up unwarranted. He does see it coming but he doesn't have any way to avoid the inevitable. If you do it in front of others, expect a ‘no-interaction-with-you-for-sometime’ treatment.

— Soundwave quietly enjoys being carried back-pack style. He's got a lot more visual feed now and it doesn't get tiresome for him to hold on since his datacables play their part in helping him out with his grip. Again, he won't admit it outright and you will struggle trying to get any admissions from him.

— This mech actually likes it when you hunch down for him so that he can communicate with you better. He knows you're just being considerate so he doesn't hate it. You have no ill intentions. And he can tell when you're trying to mock him so it's really not a huge deal for the guy.

— I think Soundwave would try to lift you up with his datacables at least once to try and return your treatment and it ends up with the two of you as a tangled mess of limbs and data cables. Never again.

— This also means Lazerbeak has a nice spot to perch on, your paldron. He's going to be sitting there like those pirates and their parrots, like a crow on a lamp post.

— A bit NSFW but like I said earlier, he gets a lot more area to wrap his datacables with. More… opportunities.

— Again, he has absolutely no quarrels with his sparkling being bigger than him. I think Soundwave would be a girl dad. Like it doesn't matter how much bigger or stronger or smarter they are; they will ALWAYS be his baby. His brightest star. Of course, Soundwave wouldn't outwardly baby or pamper his sparkling but the thought is always in his helm no matter what size they are. So even if there's a minor injury involved, he's going to sit you down and patch them up like he used to when they were tiny. Soundwave is more of an action type of mech.

— Totally expects his sparkling to hunch down so that he can give them helm-pats. Soundwave strikes me as someone who would definitely give headpats as a sign of approval, affection and as a sign that he's proud of his literal child. Soundwave will just stand there and expect his sparkling to do so.

— Lazerbeak will sit on the sparkling's helm as they walk around. Sort of like a monitor.

— He's actually a really good dad. Even if he usually always busy he still makes time for his kid.

Starscream:

— The bombastic Starscream, where do I even start? He used to be very intimidated by you. Extremely. You're hovering over him like you're some sort of all seeing eye. It used to creep him out.

— Even after all your time being together, it will still unnerve him sometimes when you just stand behind him and look down at him but it's also kind of… hot.

— He will hiss like a cat if you try to pick him up. And if you try to pick him up by surprise, he's going to let out his embarrassingly high pitched squeal and then proceed to grumble while you make fun of him.

— But the thing is, Starscream actually likes being picked up unlike Megatron who genuinely despises it with all his spark. It's just Starscream's pride not allowing him to admit it, telling him to resist the allure of your warm servos and comforting EM field. If you are going to pick him up, make sure it's a bridal style. He's less grumpy about it that way.

— He doesn't even attempt to lift you up.

— One thing he does like is the privilege one gets when they have an intimidatingly tall s/o. Oh, you're trying to beat him up? He's running immediately to you. You give him scary dog privilege in a way and Starscream isn't ashamed about using it. He'll nervously laugh as he stands behind you as if you're a shield.

— A bit NSFW, just like Megatron, Starscream too finds it appealing to dominate a bot bigger than himself. But it also makes his submission feel oddly thrilling.

— If there's a sparkling involved, Starscream is going to be utterly disappointed when they turn out to grow bigger than him before they fully mature. His wings droop and everything. He remembers back then when he'd have this baby plane flying right next to him back when he used to take them for regular flight practice… and how they'd marvel at his flight stunts. If his sparkling gets cocky with him, Starscream will not hesitate to hit them with the: “just because you're bigger doesn't mean you can talk back to me like that!” while they blow a raspberry at him. Starscream knows it'll get to their helm and he hasn't the faintest idea on how to discipline them.

— But a part of him is relieved. An intimidation factor means that bots are less inclined to pick a fight with them and height plays a crucial role in that so at least his kid is safe from getting into too many fights… However, since they're his, it's likely that they're the one to start the fight.

— Unfortunately has to rely on his sparkling to get things from the top shelf. He's got a grimace while the sparkling is all smug about it.

Shockwave:

— Much like Soundwave, he is mostly indifferent to it. He doesn't even feel emotions to begin with, or so he claims. Shockwave thinks of this in a ‘pros & cons’ way. Logically.

— If you can pick him up, it's a miracle because he is a literal tank. He will be surprised and Shockwave will definitely be intrigued, he would want you on his examination table because that is not normal. While the slight fuzziness blooming in his spark is foreign, a part of him doesn't actually mind you carrying him at all. If anything, he finds it highly convenient because that means you can easily escort him out of an area quickly in a situation where he's severely injured himself.

— When it comes to what he really feels about it… he doesn't exactly like it. But it's mostly because he's not used it. However, once he does get used to it. He's going to be reading some or the other scientific journal as he's being piggy-back carried by you, it's a part of your exercise routine now.

— Shockwave, surprisingly, could have picked you up if he had both servos but unfortunately, he doesn't. If he did have both servos, he would be able to hoist you up for a while actually.

— One thing he does enjoy the most is the fact that this means he can make even more custom upgrades and mods for you since you might have a hard time finding any given you're not in any of the regular size classes. Shockwave enjoys making things for you.

— Also, this makes you the ideal lab assistant because you can just reach over and stretch to get things that Shockwave would need to walk and get. He likes that a lot.

— Now, the chances of Shockwave even having a sparkling is slim to none and if he did, 10/10 chance it was a lab accident. So things between the sparkling and him are already kind of awkward.

— He is very, very indifferent about his sparkling being taller than him at some point in their life, even if it's before they fully mature. If anything, he finds it to be an opportunity to study gigantism in Cybertronian sparklings. But a part of him, a very small part of him will miss the little hellspawn that would tinker around in his lab and mess with things. Mostly because he found it amusing. However, at least he doesn't need to clean up any messes in his lab anymore.

— I feel like Shockwave would stack up a ton of datapads on sparkling psychology and growth so he would be surprisingly prepared to deal with this.

Knockout:

— Knockout is foaming at the mouth, on all fours, optics popping out of his helm, howling at the moon, steaming from his vents and fanning himself. In short, he likes them strong and dangerous so out of everyone here, he is the happiest with an extremely tall s/o. He's got a thing for big and strong. Real heavy duty.

— Knockout would feel very, very cocky because his s/o is amazing and kinda scary in his optics and just like Starscream, it gives him scary dog privilege. Someone to run to if he messes up. I also feel like Knockout would be a flirtatious and smug iteration of a wife-guy. Someone could be talking about their partner and Knockout would go “Yeah but my s/o can-” *proceeds to say why you're better*

— Endless flirts directed at you as he's craning his helm up with a smirk to meet your gaze, Knockout doesn't mind. Besides, he's got something to soothe his neck at the med bay. So flirtatious, it'll get you absolutely flustered because you're basically the embodiment of his type.

— He's the happiest out of them all to be picked up. Public or not, Knockout really doesn't care. Hold him anyway you want to. He enjoys your servos on him, being in your embrace and the comfort of your EM field.

— Again, much like Starscream, he isn't going to even try and pick you up himself. He's happy in your servos. Knockout will let out a squeal just like Starscream if you sneak up on him though and he will give you a peace of his mind for that but he won't resist your embrace.

— Knockout having a sparkling is purely because he messed around a little too much and ended up having to be a parent.

— Knockout has absolutely no clue how to cope with his sparkling being bigger than him. He kinda can't even believe they're his internally for a moment because he does not have this sort of coding in any of his programming modules. Regardless, he would be trying his best and is actually pretty decent at taking care of a sparkling.

— He typically avoids sparklings but as a not really licensed medic, he's come across many so it's no big deal. But he does struggle at disciplining his sparkling. Knockout does miss it when they were just a tiny terror violently giggling, running around his medbay with all his tools in their little servos as the red race car had to chase them down while yelling at them. But now he’s breaking his neck here.

— If they're a land alt. then Knockout is def taking them racing and probably giving them tips on how they could move faster because since their frame is bigger, there's a huge chance they won't be able to move as fast as him.