#touch sampling rate

[reasonsforhope]

"For most people, a rat is at best an unwelcome guest, and at worst, the target of immediate extermination. But in a field clinic in Tanzania, rats are colleagues—heroes even.

Far from a trash bin-dwelling NYC street rat, the African giant pouched rat is docile, intelligent, easier to train than some dogs, and for East Africans, the performer of lifesaving tuberculosis diagnoses every day.

400,000 new cases of tuberculosis (TB) were estimated to have been prevented by these rats, whose sense of smell would make a bloodhound take notice. As [TB is] the number-one killer among infectious diseases worldwide, many of those 400,000 can be translated into lives saved.

“Not only are we saving people’s lives, but we’re also changing these perspectives and raising awareness and appreciation for something as lowly as a rat,” said Cindy Fast, a behavioral neuroscientist who coaches the rodents for the nonprofit APOPO.

“Because our rats are our colleagues, and we really do see them as heroes.”

APOPO uses giant pouched rats to sniff out traces of TB in the saliva of patients. In parts of Tanzania, a saliva smear test under a microscope by a human may only be 20-40% effective at detecting TB.

By contrast, a giant pouched rat like Ms. Carolina, a now-retired service rat who worked for APOPO for 7 years, raised the rates of detection on TB samples by 40% in the clinic where she worked.

Pictured: An APOPO employee with one of their trained rats

It would take 4 days for scientists to analyze the number of samples that Carolina could screen in 20 minutes. For that reason, when Carolina retired last November, a party was thrown at the clinic in her honor, and she was given a cake.

TB is sometimes thought of as a thing of the past—a disease for which doctors used to prescribe “dry air,” leading a modern sense of humor to muse at the antiquated, pre-antibiotic medical advice.

But it remains the number-one cause of death globally from a single infectious pathogen, and Tefera Agizew, a physician and APOPO’s head of tuberculosis, told National Geographic that once people see what the nonprofit’s rodents can do to slow the spread, they “fall in love with them.”

3,000 times in her career did Carolina detect one of the six volatile compounds that can be used to identify Mycobacterium tuberculosis, and she got a hero’s send-off to a special compound to live out the rest of her days with her closet friend and sniffer colleague Gilbert, in a shaded enclosure dubbed “Rat Florida.”

“We’ve made special little rat-friendly carrot cakes with little peanuts and things on it that the rat would enjoy,” Fast said. “Then we all stand around and we clap, and we give three cheers, hip hip hooray for the hero, and celebrate together. It’s really a touching moment.”

APOPO has made headlines for its use of these rats in other lifesaving tasks as well: landmine clearance.

One of the world’s great underreported scourges (a lot like TB, coincidentally) is landmine contamination. There are 110 million landmines or unexploded bombs in the ground right now in about 67 countries, covering thousands of square miles in potential danger. Thousands of civilians are killed or injured by these weapons every year.

GNN reported on APOPO’s demining efforts using pouched rats back in 2020. One rat named Magawa alone identified 39 landmines and 28 items of unexploded ordnance across an area the size of 20 football fields.

If at the start of this story you didn’t like rats, maybe Magawa and Carolina will have changed your mind."

-via Good News Network, March 31, 2025

[foldingfittedsheets]

It sounds funny but I’m actually a second generation sex shop employee. My mom worked in one for a while when I was little. It definitely set a very blasé tone around sex growing up which was great until it was mortifying because I was a teenager.

I don’t have many clear memories from when I was a kid but a few stand out. First is that when I was too sick to go to daycare I’d get to hang out in the back room of the shop my mom worked in. It was basically paradise.

Firstly, because my mom was in charge of inventory and there was always a kings ransom in boxes. So most of my sick days were spent in custom box fortresses filled with blankets and pillows. I got to watch the TV in the safety of my cardboard castle. My mom’s boss would also usually let me play with the stone otters she kept on her desk. I adored those otters and looked forward to sick days where I got to caress their carved stone features.

Second, mom’s work had the best candy. There was a novelty brand they carried that I still think about. Sure, the chocolates were shaped like boobs, but I did not care because they were the most delicious chocolates I’d ever had. I only got a candy if I were very good so I stayed on my best behavior most of the time.

I did get in trouble once for wandering into the back stock while looking for props to play with. I ended up finding a joke pack of condoms that were super tiny and using them as hats for my little toys. Thank goodness they were unlubricated. I was chided for this and the teeny condoms were carefully returned to their package.

But my absolute favorite was when I go to stay until closing. While mom was counting down the til I could wander the display shelves and touch all the sample dildos. I only had a vague sense that these represented anatomy- mostly I just cared about their relative texture merits. I poked and squeezed my way through the displays dongs, approving particularly squishy ones, disdaining the hard plastic offerings.

I rated them from worst to best until my mom secured her cash box and we went home, leaving behind a wonderland of yummy candy, stone otters, and cardboard kingdoms.

[wachinyeya]

400,000 new cases of tuberculosis (TB) were estimated to have been prevented by these rats, whose sense of smell would make a bloodhound take notice. As the number-one killer among infectious diseases worldwide, many of those 400,000 can be translated into lives saved.

“Not only are we saving people’s lives, but we’re also changing these perspectives and raising awareness and appreciation for something as lowly as a rat,” said Cindy Fast, a behavioral neuroscientist who coaches the rodents for the nonprofit APOPO.

“Because our rats are our colleagues, and we really do see them as heroes.”

APOPO uses giant pouched rates to sniff out traces of TB in the saliva of patients. In parts of Tanzania, a saliva smear test under a microscope by a human may only be 20-40% effective at detecting TB.

By contrast, a giant pouched rat like Ms. Carolina, a now-retired service rat who worked for APOPO for 7 years, raised the rates of detection on TB samples by 40% in the clinic where she worked.

It would take 4 days for scientists to analyze the number of samples that Carolina could screen in 20 minutes. For that reason, when Carolina retired last November, a party was thrown at the clinic in her honor, and she was given a cake.

TB is sometimes thought of as a thing of the past—a disease for which doctors used to prescribe “dry air,” leading modern humors to muse at the antiquated, pre-antibiotic medical advice.

But it remains the number-one cause of death globally from a single infectious pathogen, and Tefera Agizew, a physician and APOPO’s head of tuberculosis, told National Geographic that once people see what the nonprofit’s rodents can do to slow the spread, they “fall in love with them.”

3,000 times in her career did Carolina detect one of the six volatile compounds that can be used to identify Mycobacterium tuberculosis, and she got a hero’s send off to a special compound to live out the rest of her days with her closet friend and sniffer colleague Gilbert, in a shaded enclosure dubbed “Rat Florida.”

“We’ve made special little rat-friendly carrot cakes with little peanuts and things on it that the rat would enjoy,” Fast said. “Then we all stand around and we clap, and we give three cheers, hip hip hooray for the hero, and celebrate together. It’s really a touching moment.”

[preciouslandmermaid]

burned within like a dying star (anakin x f!reader)

rating: e (sexual content!) tags: smut, fem!reader tho no descriptors are use, no use of y/n or l/n, sex pollen, smut, p in v, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, desperate anakin, light praise, vaginal fingering, oral (m/f receiving), nipple play, anakin has a big dick, set during clone wars tldr: anakin & reader fuck nasty on the floor of his spaceship wc: 5k of pure filth lol

summary: You spent the last ten years perfecting an artificial pheromone to save an alien species from extinction. And you've almost perfected it when a Separatist force ambushes your research station, destroying your samples, and placing yourself and the Jedi, Anakin, in the crossfire of it's potent fumes.

// READ ON AO3 // 🌟

Anakin's body writhed over yours in a tangled, sweaty mess of limbs. Your spine slid across his smooth, slick chest. His cock nudged deeper and deeper as he pinned you beneath him against the cold, metal floor, where your fingers scrambled for purchase and your breath wheezed from your lungs in short, desperate gasps.

Your eyelids fluttered as your eyes rolled back into your skull and Anakin grunted a low, lewd curse into the shell of your ear.

“Don't stop," he rasped, though he had all the physical power in this situation, his cock buried deep within your folds, his hands locked tight around your hips as he drew you back into him with forceful, short tugs.

A string of saliva trickled from the corner of your mouth and suddenly Anakin's gloved fingers were pushing between your lips, his index and middle smearing over your tongue, and pulling your jaw open with the curl of his fingers pressing into the blunt edge of your teeth. You suckled on his fingers, groaning around the solid, soft digits and he released a low, primal hum of approval.

He dragged his wet, gloved fingers from your mouth, across your throat, and between your breasts before he found the sweet spot between your legs and began swirling his two fingers across your peaked, throbbing clit. You moaned, loud and reckless, the hollow-sound reverberating across the cockpit as Anakin Skywalker made you burn from within like a dying star.

“Anakin, please," you choked the words free from your tight throat. your walls convulsed wildly around his thick, heavy cock, attempting to pull and squeeze him deeper, as your release hit you in a shock wave of buckling pleasure.

You would've face-planted onto the metal floor if Anakin hadn't caught you with the slight, mystical touch of the force. He guided your face down slowly and you pillowed your head upon your folded arms, your sweaty body pulsing and jerking forward with every one of Anakin's deliberate, fast-paced thrusts.

All of this from a mere pheromone sample?

A delirious laugh bubbled in your throat, but it was swallowed and replaced with a drawn-out moan as you felt Anakin swell and spill inside of you.

8 HOURS EARLIER

Though the war threatened to swallow every quadrant of the universe, you refused to cower and abandon the precious experiment that you had spent the past decade perfecting. The planet below, Decuurr Gamma, was a lush, humid planet teeming with great rocky mountains, rich in mineral deposits. But, more importantly than the resources, was the nearly-endangered Vux species.

The Vux were an intelligent, humanoid type species: larger than humans (the average male height was nearly 7ft, and the average female was 6 and a half), with their skin color ranging from ashen gray to smoky twilight. Their eyes were small and black, and they had ears shaped like a Chadra-Fans', only slightly smaller.

And they were dying. Not due to war, or famine, or disease, but an extremely low-birth rate and medical difficulties with Vux's carrying offspring to term. You had been tasked with the daunting responsibility to help the Vux.

A third of your research had focused on their mating habits and patterns. The Vux differed from humanity in the sense that they had a biological imperative that bonded them to a specific sexual partner. An offspring could only be born if the Vux became intimate with the correct partner. The Vux had attempted to circumvent this issue by engaging in intercourse with non-mates, but the pregnancies wouldn't reach their full cycle and the chance of a live birth was slim. 

Another half of your research went into discovering the how and why this mating prerogative existed. After serval dead-ins, threats to remove funding, you had discovered that the Vux's natural pheromones weren't releasing the right 'signals'. Rather than a 'come hither' message to their kin, pinpointing their mates like a tracking beam, the pheromones produced were pushing potential mates away.

And everything had been going well...until the Jedi arrived.

He walked into your brightly lit, white and chrome laboratory, his curly hair framing his handsome face with slight sheen of glistening sweat on his brow. After introductions were made, his voice like velvet over your ears, Anakin revealed his reason for the impromptu visit.

“Why would the separatists care about this planet?!" you demanded, “we're all the way in the outer-rim."

“The Vux don't have a strong military presence anymore, do they?" Anakin asked, though you suspected the question was rhetorical.

Once upon a parsec, the Vux had an impressive starship fleet, a strong military power that ensured their planet remained unharmed by junk-dealers or criminals operating in the outer-rim. But...these past ten years had changed the fabric of the galaxy- including Decuurr Gamma. Their population couldn't risk becoming involved in conflict.

“And the separatists need resources," he said as he looked from your large, observatory window facing the tall, impressive mountains in the distance.

Your brow crinkled. "then...then I’ll -" You fumbled for the correct decision. Your research was almost complete. The vials, beakers, computerized files, and technology surrounding you were proof enough of that fact and the latest, perfected batch was set to be tested tomorrow morning. You couldn't leave.

“I’ll arrange for my team to evacuate," you struggled the words out, a hard knot twisting in your throat. "but, I’ll stay here."

Anakin turned toward you and you were forced to meet his stubborn, darkened blue gaze. His eyes reminded you of the misty, fog-covered mountains in the early blue-gray dawn.

“With all due respect, I don't think that's wise." He shook his head. “You should take your research and come to the inner-rim. it's safer there and the republic--"

You anxiously cut him off, “And how will the Vux survive? I doubt they'll let me re-enter the planet with all this." You gestured with one arm towards your lab as your other arm remained secured around your midsection.

Anakin frowned.

“If they go for an all-out attack then--" he stopped and something imperceptible crossed over his intense gaze. A bright and blaring alarm cut through the research station and his body drew taught as his hand flew to his lightsaber.

“Get down!" he yelled as the doors hissed open and two droids trotted into the room, blasters screaming through the air, and crashing into your equipment. You screamed: in fear, in anger, in distress. Your knees ached as you crawled behind the pristine white work benches and glass shattered over your head.

The droning hum of a lightsaber cut through the air in melodic, swooping arcs. Another terrifying, awful shatter of glass and the blaster-fire echoed through your ear drums. A fine, lilac-hued smoke clung to the air, causing your eyes to smarten and water. It took your frazzled mind a second to realize what the droids had hit. Oh. Oh fuck. Oh no. This was bad. Very, very bad.

You risked popping your head from behind its cover and shouted roughly to the young Jedi, “Don't breathe it in!"

“Is it deadly?!" he yelled in return as he force-pushed a droid away with a quick shove of his hand and deflected a blaster-beam with his lightsaber. You shook your head and clammy sweat prickled at the back of your neck.

“No." You coughed. “Won't kill us."

You couldn't and didn't study the effects of a Vux pheromone supplement on a human body. Your research focused on the Vux themselves; their bodies, their chemicals, their minds. Many of their organs mirrored humans, but they had a few biological differences besides their 'mating scent'. The Vux child bearers could carry two separate pregnancies and the entire species had a brief refractory period, lasting only a few minutes at most according to your research.

Your experiment had taken all of this into account. You measured for it. The artificial pheromone chemical you produced was designed for a sexually-developed Vux. A creature much larger than you or Anakin. You tugged your stiff, clean lab coat from your arms and sweat bloomed over the dewy surface of your skin. Your logical mind tried to cut through your reeling, impulsive thoughts. Could you flush out the fumes? 

Anakin approached you, helping you to your feet by gripping your elbow, and then he stumbled into your body with a dazed, glazed look. He pressed his damp forehead against yours.

“What's happening?" His tongue darted out to wet his lips and you longed to pull his mouth down onto yours

“They blew up my research," you said sourly, gripping the tense, solid firmness of his shoulders. “We're breathing it in...it's going to cause...ah..." You struggled to get the words free as another ripple of heat pooled within your lower abdomen. It's causing us to behave like mated-Vux, you wanted to explain, but the words wouldn't come. 

“Master Yoda mentioned that your team." His nose bumped into yours. “Was assisting in...fertility research?"

“Something like that, yes," you replied, breathless and aching. “This will pass." You hoped it would, anyways. A paired Vux mated for hours, another biological drive to ensure offspring was produced, but, this couldn't last that long, could it?

“We need to go. C’mon."

You nodded numbly, foolishly enjoying the warm dance of air on your lips from Anakin's mouth. He was a Jedi. The Jedi didn't...well…they didn't have wives, or husbands, or lovers, or even families. Everyone knew that. And you were grateful that Anakin was stronger than you. Once you arrived at his ship, you’d hide away in one of the bunks and wait to sweat this out like a bad fever.

Anakin cleared a path to the docking bay and managed to send a message to the Republic, but you both knew there was little chance of rescue for the Vux people. This ambush was won by the separatists. They’d take Decuurr Gamma by force and have the Vux at their mercy. And there was nothing more you could do…

Your limbs were locked into motion by sheer adrenaline and several, desperate thoughts of what Anakin's muscled back looked like beneath his robes. He pulled you by hand into his ship and threw himself into the pilot's seat. You clenched your thighs together as you watched at his gloved hands flying with familiarity over the controls.

You never imagined you'd nearly cum just by watching someone in their element--but fuck, there was a first time for everything, wasn't there? Embarrassed, you turned your hot, sweaty face away as small, wrecking shudders pulled through your body.

Anakin, misreading you, asked, "you alright?"

“Hate flying,” you grit out as your fingers clenched over the armrests.

It wasn't until the ship lulled into a quiet auto-pilot that you unclenched your fists and opened your eyes. And Anakin was there. He was kneeling in front of you, breathing heavily, his hair matted with sweat and dripping into his pupil-blown eyes.

“What's. Happening. To. Me." He met your eyes and set his jaw in a painful, agonized clench. “The thoughts I’m having...the things…I want..."

“It'll pass," you repeated as your fingertips left the armrest and came to cradle his face and Anakin sagged into your touch like he needed it. You licked your lips.

“The Vux are a unique species," you said as Anakin's trembling fingers reached up to unclasp your safety belt. “Who can only conceive if they're with the correct mate."

His hands settled on your thighs and burned through the fabric of your skirt.

“They don't engage in sex for pleasure." You scooted forward and braced your knees on either side of Anakin's broad chest, your skirt bunching as it rode up your thighs and hugged your hips. “But the pheromones they were releasing naturally weren't sending the correct signals..."

“And your artificial one did?"

“I don't know.” You shook your head, feeling dizzy. “We hadn't released it. It wasn’t done.” You drew your lower lip in-between your teeth, a stab of sadness cutting through the haze of lust. “Now, we'll never know."

The last ten years were lost. Burned. Ruined. You had always secured and saved your notes, but it would take years to replicate the formula. And the Vux didn't have years to wait.

Anakin's thumb touched your lower lip, drawing it free from your teeth, his pupils blown wide and hungry.

“Come closer," he said, a slight hitch to his deep, masculine voice. and you were in no state to deny him nor did you want to. Your lips dragged tentatively over his. Once. Before he pushed his hands under your skirt and slid his tongue between your waiting, eager lips. His kiss was fluid, but sloppy and impatient. His hands tugged your underwear from your legs and tossed it somewhere within the cockpit.

You barely had a second to breathe before Anakin wrenched your legs apart and buried his face into your pulsing, sensitive cunt. You yelped, one hand gripping his hair, as your hips jolted into his face with a hurried jerk of a motion. His tongue ran velvet-smooth licks along your folds before he closed his perfect mouth around your clit and suckled until your spine arched from the back of your seat and your thighs clamped around his sweat-matted head.

“Don't stop - mmh- fuck," you whined, bucking into him, all previous thoughts of Jedi lacking the skills (or desire or interest) in sex immediately forgotten. Anakin's tongue played against you like your moans were his favorite, sweetest song.

Your head thrashed to the side. “Please."

Anakin's inner chaos quieted once he had you on his tongue. You quivered around him, begging him, tugging at his hair as you rocked your hips into his face.

You had explained that his emotions were tied to the chemical pheromone that your team had manufactured and although he didn't fully understand how the chemical worked, he did understand on some primal level that he needed you like nothing else. He needed you all over him, mouth, hands, everything. Everything you'd give him, he'd greedily take, like a back-alley junk dealer looking to swindle tourists.

You came, shouting his name, and Anakin drew back and wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hands.

“Take it off," you whined, grappling for the front of his Jedi robes.

He snatched your mouth with his and pulled you both onto the floor, placing you in his lap, and rocking his clothed, tented cock into your wet core. You gasped sweetly and dragged your folds over him in rhythmic, desperate little motions. The air thickened with heat. Your intelligent eyes went glossy and glazed. Your nostrils flared as you tried to contain your needy pants. You were gorgeous and insatiable and he wanted to lose himself with you. Forget the Jedi Council. Forget the tragedy that happened on the planet below. He wanted your wet heat enveloping him. He wanted his name to fall from your lips. 

He reached up and yanked open your shirt and sent its tiny fastening buttons pinging like rain across the metal floor.

Your breasts were perfect. Beautiful. And he needed to touch you. He needed to taste you until his tongue went numb. He needed to fill his ship with the sounds of your pleasured cries.

He tilted up halfway to draw one of your sweet, peaked nipples into his mouth and relished in the surprised, luscious sound you made as you cradled his head to your chest. His tongue laved over the bud, sweeping and suckling, flicking it and molding kisses along the tops and undersides of your flesh.

“Fuck," he grunted, holding your hips steady, and enjoyed the friction his clothes provided against your warm cunt. Time stretched, lasting forever, lasting for seconds. He kissed you. Strong and firm. Nothing else existed beyond your tongue between his teeth and your body gyrating above his.

“You can't take me yet," he moaned when your hand snaked down his chest to feel him through his clothes.

“Someone's confident," you said with a breathless laugh, though the mirth died in your throat when your palm touched the hard, large length of him. You worked your fingers down from shaft to base and choked back your astonishment. Anakin's eyes glimmered with satisfaction. You slithered your hand beneath his robes and pulled him free, lowering yourself as he parted his Jedi robes to reveal the smooth, cut expanse of his chest. You kissed lightly across his stomach and Anakin moaned your name at the first touch of your lips upon his cock.

You ran your tongue across the salty, masculine heat of him, up and down, until he was slick with your salvia before you attempted to close your lips around his head. Anakin practically growled from above you, one hand tight on your shoulder, the other in a fist at his side.

You slowly drew his cock into your mouth, your tongue flat against your jaw, and a quake of pleasure ran down your spine like an electric live-wire. Everything within you pulsed with sheer, primal desire. You wanted to please him. And you wanted him, in every position, on every surface. Whatever functions to your logical brain had been turned off. All that mattered was muscles, and limbs, and quenching this bottomless thirst within you.

Anakin groaned, arching his neck and exposing the vulnerable column of his throat as his dark, curly hair fanned out around his anguished, tortured expression. You drew him out of your mouth, licked him in slow and teasing strokes, gifting him with little soft kisses over his shaft before you repeated the cycle over and over again.

"'m close--" Anakin shuddered, his grip on the back of your neck almost painful, though he didn't trap you to him. You worked your fist over his slick cock, feeling him pulse in your palm, watching him writhe through your lidded eyes. He finished with a loud keen and his warm seed spurted and spilled across and over your breasts.

Anakin gasped, bright-eyed and flushed, before he pulled you by the arms toward him and devoured your mouth in hungry, satin kisses.

Your head spun, delirious with pleasure. He tore your shirt from your shoulders and ripped the bunched black skirt from your hips with little effort, bearing yourself before him like a statue of a divine figure.

He laid back. His brown Jedi robe sprawled beneath your naked bodies like a picnic blanket. A boyish, cheerful light sparkled through his eyes, so light and carefree that your chest clenched.

“Anakin,” you whispered as a prickly chill danced over your skin. You pressed your bare, aching breasts to his chest and squirmed against him, attempting to meld your bodies into one.

He pulled one glove free and licked his bare fingers before he dragged them across your cunt and plunged two fingers into you. You spasmed, fingers clawing into his chest, as he pumped two fingers in and out of you with a controlled, measured pace.

“Faster, please, Anakin," you whimpered, hips shifting in an effort to speed him along.

“No, mhm-nn.” He toyed with your earlobe between his soft, teasing lips. “Not yet." His thumb circled your clit and you stopped arguing as the slick sounds from between your thighs became obscenely erotic. You couldn't remembered ever being this turned on, this wet, for anyone before. Was it the chemical? Or was it Anakin? But, you didn't have the brain power to solve that particular puzzle.

“More." You were close. Close already?! From nothing more than his mouth on your neck and his fingers pumping into you. Stars, save you.

“More?" he echoed, a third fingertip teasing your cunt.

“Please, Anakin." You nuzzled into the side of his face, breathing deeply, perhaps taking a full breath for the first time this morning. Anakin blessedly chose to indulge you and coax a third finger into your hole.

You adjusted to the slight discomfort, your body stretching and welcoming, your skin prickling with anticipation. He gripped your ass with his gloved hand, holding you close and tight, while his bare fingers stoked a roaring inferno in the lower pools of your stomach.

“N-need you ready," he whispered huskily, "you're so wet. so close. wanna - oh - fuck.” He pressed his lips together, his control unraveling as you squeezed his fingers. “Be s-so deep inside you. feel you."

"yes, yes, yes," you babbled, "yes, please. everything."

He tucked face into your chest, leaving hot, suckling kisses along the sensitive skin, bruising and marking you with the blunt edge of his teeth.

You came so hard that your teeth clacked together as your body seized and a thunderstorm of pleasure tore through you. Anakin muttered in approval and praise, his voice its own aphrodisiac.

The aftershocks barely passed before you wordlessly gripped the base of his cock and lined him up to your aching, still-throbbing entrance. You watched his adam's apple bob when he swallowed. You met his gaze and nodded. And he nodded in reply.

You slowly sank onto him. "O-oh.” He let out a strangled moan. “Like that, yes."

“Yes," you agreed, your face pinching with pleasure as the full girth of him speared between your folds inch by delicious inch. Every inch of you was filled by him like a lost key sliding into a forgotten lock. He bottomed-out and your shoulders shuddered with exquisite, cloying satisfaction.  

“You look nice like this," Anakin said, his words slurring as if he was drunk, "backlit by starlight."

You craned your neck behind you to see the viewport at your back and the wide, brilliant expanse of stars. Anakin told the ship to lower the cockpit lights and dipped you into semi-darkness: intimate, quiet, with nothing but the star-spun space beyond and the humid space between your damp bodies.

You brought your mouth tenderly and appreciatively to his as your inner walls fluttered around him. Anakin started slow, merely rocking into you, as his arms wrapped around your torso. The heat within built at a rapid, concerning pace. You shouldn't be able to finish again so quickly, so soon, but the Vux pheromones ran wild and unchecked through your veins. You wiggled one hand between your legs and rubbed tight, firm circles over your sensitive clit, gasping every time Anakin withdrew a little further than the last.

You tossed your head back, grinding into Anakin and touching yourself in tandem with his shallow, controlled thrusts. Your mingled panting breath and hollow, deep groans filled the circulated air as your knees pressed into the hard, metal floor. His heavily lidded, dark eyes watched you hungrily, never leaving your face, soaking in your raptured bliss as if it were his own. 

Your orgasm hit you in slow, syrupy waves, a slower and deeper pleasure than you would've expected and your walls snugly wrapped and quivered around his throbbing cock, pulling another shuddering, sharp gasp from your lungs. Your inner thighs were soaked. But, there was no time to care, or feel embarrassed, because Anakin cupped one of your breasts and lightly circled the nipple beneath his index finger, sending little shivers into your core. 

“More, please, I need you," he breathed and braced his knees upright.

You settled your palms on his chest, for leverage and stability, as Anakin wrapped one arm around your back. Your body relaxed. Unfolded. The muscles gave into him like wet sand against the rushing ocean as Anakin withdrew his cock and plunged back in with a hard, swift thrust. Your body jolted, but he held you firm, and he took you like a man lost on a desert planet without hope of an oasis.

Your eyes squeezed shut, short gasps pushed from your diaphragm as he pounded into you with hungry, feverish motions.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck, yes." Anakin whined into your ear. “So well. taking me- fuck- well. so well. come for me again. come for me." he repeated your name over and over again, burying his face into the side of your neck, pleading with you to let him fill you again and again. “Let me feel everything."

Your ass bounced, your skin jiggling from the sheer force and rapid desperation of Anakin's movements. Somewhere in the haze of pleasure, his mouth found yours, and he drank in your every sound as if they belonged to him. Your walls tightly gripped him, though there was little room to do so, as his big cock filled you to the brim. You'd feel him after this. Your muscles would remember the fullness and satisfying ridge of his cock-head teasing your lips before he sank into you.

“Say you're mine," he gasped, his cock hitting the deepest point within you and causing the backs of your eyelids to flash with stars.

"m yours."

“Again." The sound of your skin rapidly slapping together overwhelmed your senses as he took, he took, and took everything you gave him. 

“Yours, Anakin."

He grunted, a low, deep sound, before he gripped your hips and slammed you onto his pelvis. You felt him swell from within and fill you. A needy sound escaped from your lips as you abruptly followed him off the edge and gushed around his twitching cock.

He trembled beneath you, gasping your name, and rocking his hips slowly as his orgasm faded into a fuzzy, blurry background. Some of the terrible, burning heat finally seeped from your skin, a promising sign of relief. Perhaps the artificial pheromone was waning?

You wiped your damp face with both hands, smiling for a moment, before Anakin rolled you over beneath him. “I don't want to stop," he said, his thrusts slow and unhurried. “Do you want to stop?"

“No!" you blurted and you quickly looked away in embarrassment. "it feels—”

“Too good?" Anakin guessed before he captured your lips in a searing, almost angry kiss. You made a soft noise of agreement against his mouth. Anakin tugged free his other glove, revealing his prosthetic limb, and he cradled your jaw. The metal was wonderfully cool against your feverish body. He trailed his fingers down, eliciting a rush of excitement, as he gently tweaked one of your nipples with his cold fingers.

Your head arched back, your hips thrusting in time with his, as he toyed with your nipple and brought the other into his waiting, warm mouth. He alternated the sensations, teasing your nipples until they throbbed and glistened with his salvia. Your eyes clenched shut. Your fingers sank into his soft, curls and molded against the shape of his skull. Every dance of his tongue across the sensitive bud created another pulse through your inner walls, hugging his cock and begging him to go impossibly deeper.

"Ana-kin," you cried. Another flash of lightning sparked across your eyelids as Anakin worshiped your breasts and your thighs quivered around his narrow, sculpted hips. 

Time stopped (if it mattered at all within the vacuum of space). You and Anakin driven by a biological impulse that was not fully your own. You had thought the Jedi handsome when he stepped into your lab, but that initial attraction would never have blossomed into this under normal circumstances and you didn't have the mental energy to ruminate upon what would happen to you after.

You laid boneless and exhausted upon Anakin's broad warm chest and listened to the steady strong rhythm of his heart. He draped his cloak over the lower halves of your body as his metallic fingers trailed lazy circles over your upper back. For a long while, neither of you spoke. Your lips were puffy and kiss-swollen, your eyelids heavy.

Anakin's neck and chest were covered in your enthusiastic love-bites and dotted his fair, muscled skin in pink splotches. You recalled the moment with a brief, saccharine smile. You had been in his lap in his pilot’s seat and after enjoying the ravenous noise he made when you sucked his collarbone, you made a mental commitment to hear that noise from his perfect, bowed lips again and again. Your little activity lasted only until Anakin clutched the nape of your neck and pinned you against his shoulder before he drove into you with a punishing, desperate pace. You had screamed out in agonized pleasure, slick with sweat and release, and Anakin had then slowed, coaxing you through the final, intense waves of your - fourth? fifth? (you had lost count) -  orgasm. 

“Can you resume your research within Republic’s territory?" Anakin asked.

You closed your eyes. “I can try."

“If not, then I’m sure the republic's forces will do all they can to reclaim Decuurr Gamma.”

You lifted your head to study the planes and angles of his face. In the low, quiet humming light of the spaceship, Anakin looked carved from stone, as beautiful and untouchable as the figures within ancient mythology. His blue eyes, no longer swallowed and darkened by lust or battle, were shadowed by a slight, thoughtful furrow in his brow.

“Will they?" A note of skepticism entered your voice. “Forgive me, Master Jedi, if I lack your optimism."

“It doesn't make sense for the republic to allow the separatists to keep control," he said, "they took it with a small force and they wouldn't waste their stronger warships on a planet with such a small population." His eyes brightened. “We could take it back with a handful of soldiers."

You settled back onto his chest. “Just because the pheromone reacted with our physiology doesn't mean it'll have favorable results with the Vux." You sighed. “Despite my efforts, I must consider myself back at square one and prepare to start over."

“Wow." Anakin chuckled. “You're a pessimist."

You hummed. “I’m merely being realistic considering the grim circumstances. but..." You lifted your head to meet his gaze again. “If the republic does reclaim Decuurr Gamma…”

“You'll be the first to know," Anakin assured you. He brushed his lips over yours, stirring the embers of desire into a sparking, sharp heat that traveled down to your bare toes.

“In the meantime..." he mumbled before pressing his lips firmly to yours and losing himself in the delirious pleasure of your kiss as cold starlight streaked across the viewport.

bonus author's note:

The entire time I was writing this I was like "where's padme. i love padme. how do i explain anakin's lack of yearning for padme?" and you know what...I still don't have an answer. So. AU, Padme?? isn't here?? Padme and Anakin aren't in love?? I don't know.

anyway. i had this idea in my head for days ever since i started watching the clone wars animated series so here we are!!! my first ever anakin fic, so i hope i did him justice <3 also!! the name of the species + planet were created via a random generator online and have no ties (to my knowledge) of actual Star Wars canon :)

[roboticchibitan]

I used to work at JoAnn's and let me give you a tip. Don't buy fabric there if you can help it. It's overpriced low quality crap. You can absolutely find fabric for just as cheap online and if you're a "have to touch it before I know if I'll hate it or not" person lots of online places sell samples.

Case in point: Robert Kaufman Kona solids. I've seen claims online that the Kona solid quilting cotton, which is the highest quality quilting cotton solids JoAnn's sells, is different and lower quality than the Kona cotton you can get at a quilt shop. I can't speak to the validity of those claims but I 100% would not be surprised if it were true. But let's set that aside and just see how JoAnn's prices measure up.

As you can see, the regular price at JoAnn's is $9.99. The regular price at this random quilting online store I spent 20 seconds on duckduckgo to find is $7.95. Sure, the sale price is 15¢ cheaper at JoAnn's. But JoAnn's is constantly playing this "our fabrics are cheap because they're on sale! Don't look at how much they regularly cost anywhere else" psychological warfare game which I do NOT appreciate.

I'm sure if you looked harder than the 20 seconds I spent on duckduckgo you could find Kona cotton for cheaper than JoAnn's has it and you wouldn't have to wonder about the quality claims. And all their fabric is like this. Maybe a decade ago it was a good deal but now? There's a reason they've gone bankrupt.

Just because I could, I compared fabric wholesale direct's price for solid color polyester Jersey knit fabric, which is regularly priced at $5.99 and is currently on sale for $5.09. JoAnn's comparable fabric starts again at $9.99/yard and that fabric is currently on sale for $6.99. There are 10 colors of the JoAnn's $6.99 fabric and 45 colors of the FWD $5.09 fabric FWD does free shipping over $99 and flat rate shipping at $7.95 for anything below that. Depending on how much you buy, you'll potentially be paying the same or less for the FWD fabric and 1. It's probably higher quality and 2. There's 4 times as many color options.

JoAnn's is good for if you need less than a yard and have the time and ability to go to the store in person. And yeah, if you're shopping in person, you don't have to pay shipping. But the quality of all their fabric is low and the "sale" prices are around the same as a place with higher quality fabric.

I buy embroidery floss and thread at JoAnn's cuz embroidery floss is cheaper in person than on DMC's website and you can't trust product photos of thread to be color accurate. And I buy sewing notions there sometimes cuz it's convenient. But even the scissors I spent $30 on there a decade ago (who knows how much they are now) were $17 at Walmart when I lost the first pair and had to replace them 4 years later.

Also they treat their employees like shit and currently no one besides store managers gets health insurance through them because the only full time position in their stores is the store manager. And even before the bankruptcy they shortstaffed and did everything in their power to avoid paying for benefits and overtime. It was the worst job I ever had and that's saying something because I worked at Walmart and had a "this creepy guy went to JAIL over what he did to me" experience there.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hello!

I hope you are doing well.

Could I request a fem!reader x Miguel imagine where reader is a medical doctor and relatively new to the spider society. Rather than fight against anomalies, she's taken on the task of healing these spiderpeople after they get injured because she is the only one who really can due to their unique physiology. She's known for her venomous sarcasm and biting wit, trading insults and quips like they're her love language. But in striking juxtaposition to her usual behaviour, her bedside manner is extremely comforting, gentle, and maternal. This is the first time that the head of the spider society himself, Miguel, has been one of her patients. He came in with really awful injuries from a mission gone awry. This is the first time he gets to see this side of reader. Because I am such a slut for the "playing nurse" trope. Bonus points if she gently refers to him as "good boy" at some point 😫 And because our boy could really use a comforting touch

Thank you so much!

This is amazing, I love this idea! I'm so sorry it took so long!

Sharp Words

Miguel O'Hara x f!Reader • Rating: PG pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Warnings: surprise kiss, injury, brief mention to a spider backstory, overuse of italics, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 864

Miguel had been so close to not coming in at all, his mind practically already made up. 

He wouldn’t die. He would heal. He could do this on his own. 

And while most would think he was either just not taking care of himself, or dismissing how bad his injuries actually were, it was Lyla who hit the metaphorical nail on the head.

“Just admit you’re scared of seeing her.” 

“No.” He’d winced, his voice sounding childish even to his own ears. And obviously lying. 

“Prove it.” Lyla folded her arms across her chest and, of course, that gave Miguel little choice in the matter.

He’d expected your tuts, eye rolls and sharp words, including a fair few comments on ‘how stupid he had been to get his messed up’. Even as he walked to the med bay he’d been mentally rehearsing his answers. 

“It’s not that bad.” 

“It looks worse than it is.” 

“People were in trouble, it was either get out the way and let them get hurt or stay where I was.” 

“This Green Goblin had a teleport glitch that made evading attacks pretty difficult when you don’t know he has that yet.” 

Maybe he’d just stay completely quiet. 

But none of that had happened. 

Your eyes had widened when you’d seen him and ushered him to a bed. You’d fussed over him quietly, only asking questions that were pertinent to his care. 

Your hands were warm and your expression soft. 

And weirdly, it hurt. 

“I just need to run a few blood tests, okay?” You say gently, waiting for him to nod. 

Miguel gives you the go ahead. “What for?” 

“Well,” You take the samples quickly, the actions practised to an art form. “First time I’ve treated you, I just need to check your physiology is what I think it is…” You trail off for a few seconds as you focus. “And second, I want to make sure there’s no contamination.” 

“Contamination?” He frowns.

“Don’t worry,” You lay your hand on his uninjured shoulder and he shivers. It shouldn’t feel as nice as it does, as safe. It shouldn’t make his heart rate spike. 

“Some Green Goblins have a toxin on any bladed weapons, I don’t think this one does,” You pull up the information the Spider Society has gathered about this particular iteration on your holo pad and skim through it. “But I just want to be safe, rather than sorry.” 

He hums quietly, and laments the loss of your touch when you move away, his shoulder cold now that your fingers had left his skin. 

Miguel lets you work in silence for a moment, trying to quell his racing mind. To think of nothing. 

“Is the Green Goblin the reason you didn’t come here straight away?” 

Your voice catches him off guard, “I…” 

You move closer, pulling over a chair and sitting before you spray the largest gash on his chest with numbing spray before you start to clean and stitch the wound. 

There’s a moment of quiet once more before you glance up at him from under your lashes, “Because that’s not…” You sigh and look back to your work. “That’s not something you need to worry about, I’m not made of glass.” 

“I know you’re not.” He says softly. 

The Green Goblin from your universe had been responsible for many tragedies in your life, including how you became a spider person to begin with. It was only when he’d died - something you were partly, if not wholly responsible for - that you’d discovered he had been your Uncle Ben. A canon event in your timeline. 

“Then why did you wait seventeen minutes to come to med bay?” You sit up fully and fix him with a stern look. 

And to your absolute amazement, and secret enjoyment, Miguel O’Hara blushes. 

“I…” He looks at his hands intently. “Wait, you were timing me?” 

“I was rounding up, sixteen minutes and forty eight seconds if you’re interested.” 

“Why…?”

“Lyla told me you’d been hurt bad and when you portaled back, to be honest I was expecting you to portal directly here.” You motion to your surroundings. 

Miguel swallows. “It’s not that bad-” 

“Don’t give me that.” You stare at him, letting him squirm for a moment. “You know I have the medical clearance to ground you.”

“That’s-”

“You’re the one that gave it to me, if I’m not happy with someone’s physical or mental condition I can stop them from working until they’re recovered.”

Miguel looks ashen. “You’re-”

“Why didn’t you come straight away? And I can tell when you’re lying.” 

He groans and closes his eyes, certain that he’s regressed to a ten year old at that moment. “I was… I didn’t want you to get angry.”

You pause. “What?” 

“Or snap at me,” he continues, his eyes still closed. “I know we’re both usually pretty sharp with each other and I didn’t want to disappoint you and-”

You smile and lean forward lightly pressing your lips to his. 

Miguel groans, kissing you back as he opens his eyes in surprise. “I…?”

You pull back a fraction. “Good boy.” 

He pauses, staring quizzically at you. 

“For telling the truth.” 

Thank you for reading!

Taglist 1:

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If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[ailoda]

updated: 09.03.25

˚☽˚.⋆ fluff

Is It Chill That You're In My Head? (❤❅): your best friend James isn’t sure why he’s so angry about the fact that you’re going on a date with someone else. (@boneblushed)

Dreamy Eyes (❤): smitten james. (@carpentvrs)

James being super soft around reader. (❤) (@theemporium)

5 People James Didn't Mean To Kiss (and one he did) (❤): James Potter is a very affectionate person. (@g1rld1ary)

Pretty Boy (❤): you think James is really pretty—unfortunately for you, Sirius notices and decides to take matters into his own hands. (@alwaysmoncheri)

Something He'd Overheard (❤): James finds himself head over heels when he sees you defending a first year student. (@sleepiexx)

The Marauder's Map (❤): James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter need help for a special resource for their pranks, so who better to go to than the best charms student Hogwarts has to offer- also the girl James seems to be in love with. (@starcrossedslytherin)

Best Surprise Ever (❤): firefighter!james. (@inkluvs)

Side Effects May Include (❤): after snagging Veritaserum from Slughorn’s office, Sirius is convinced he has concocted the perfect prank for his next victim, you. And what better way to start the day than revealing all your true feelings about your friends. (@mischievousmoony)

↪︎ Part Two (❤)

Wildest Dreams (❤): finding out that your ex-best friend might have smelt you in the Amortentia feels as surreal as you smelling him. (@pretty-little-mind33) (warning: harassment, non-consensual touching (non-sexual))

Fell Hard (❤): when James finds himself talking to the other marauders about reader. (@lupinsversion)

Shut Up Mom (❤): Harry decides it's a good idea to prank your husband. (@uramakimochi)

Something Stupid (❤): James has always adored your sweet heart and gentle ways and feels nothing more than obligated to tell you how much he loves you, even if he isn't completely sober enough to tell you. (@illicitvalentines)

Raison D'être (❤): James Potter never thought that the most terrible day of his life could give him a new reason for existing. (@santaasi)

A Little Manpower (❤): reader moving into an apartment and meets James. (@g1rld1ary)

Stop Flirting With The Nurse, Its Embarrassing (❤): it’s hard to act cool if James’ beautiful, hot nurse can hear his heart rate. (@perpetuallydaydreaming)

Bed Hopper (❤): after creating a tradition of cuddling James before bed, you'd think you'd have the path down by now. (@unconventional-lawnchair)

What If I Was You? (❤): it all started innocently enough. James noticed how kind you were. But over time, he began to notice things he probably shouldn’t have. The way your hair fell over your shoulder as you wrote something on the board. The soft sound of your laughter. The way your eyes sparkled when you looked at Harry. And for a moment, James let that forbidden thought take shape again: you at home with them, laughing, caring, belonging. (@ikkyfics)

Boudoir Photoshoot (❤): you have your bridesmaids show James, your, now, husband, polaroid samples from your boudoir photoshoot on your wedding night while you enjoy his reactions from afar. (@kquil)

Our Names In The Paper (❤): footballer!james potter x fem!sports journalist!reader. (@g1rld1ary)

Heart Chaser (❤): James tries to woo you over many times before, with what he does best- being a showoff and with a promise of a hogsmeade date if they win the quidditch tournament. (@empress-simps)

No one makes James Potter feel the way that his girlfriend does and he definitely knows it. (❤) (@alwaysmoncheri)

"This is betrayal!" (❤): in which James accused you of committing treason in the humble Potter’s household. (@wintrsoul)

new! Just My Luck (❤): you get stuck in a shed with your quidditch captain. (@thatdammchickennugget)

[angelesca]

over and over, you read the sign outside a small agency, rolling the name in your head and flipping it up and down: teyvat's sleuth operatives, sleuth operatives... sounds tacky and lame...

it is only when a brown-haired someone approaches you, that your doubts are erased. their uniform neat, mastering the archetype of a professional private investigator, amber eyes unexpecting your early arrival. “you must be the new recruit, why don’t you come inside?”

edit: i think my tumblr is finally working again, hopefully this post works(-ω-、) w.c. ~3.5k / content: modern au! private investigators (PI) au! [not canon, slight ooc?] bulletpoints and scenarios, writing out of my arse again, lil' crack, another gang of idiots, total braincells: 8.88 (a high score!!), surprisingly they co-exist pretty well, zhongli doesn't know what a waffle maker is, you and childe watch a traumatic talent show, alhaitham's love lang is bickering with you, and wrio has a depressing backstory👍, tldr; working with 4 very fun guys / boss!zhongli / rival!childe / childhood friend!alhaitham / colleague!wriothesley / x gnreader

𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢 as your boss!

��� oldest member, worked in the profession for many years. however, when you ask about that, he is suspiciously evasive. zhongli seems to have lived a long life, though his appearance does not tell it

✦ out of touch with the new generation and technology. asks alhaitham to fix his computer and the kettle (bro just needed to plug it in) or asks you what the newest trendy slang means. it is a wonder how he manages the workplace

✦ tea buddies with wriothesley. hosts tea parties in the local retirement home to discuss and rate tea (power scaling tea real). there's enough boxes to last a lifetime in the breakroom. oh, zhongli is pointing at the clock. it’s… tea time… again

✦ talks your ear off about philosophical questions such as what happens after death, or whether a hotdog is a sandwich

✦ you and childe share a joint role as zhongli’s personal wallet. as to what your boss spends his paycheck on… maybe the countless snacks he leaves at your desk. and tea. more tea. poosssiibly those trinkets he has gifted you too

✦ glasses wearer. appears when zhongli is in deep concentration, due to an unexpected influx of cases so he's staring at the computer often, or during an intense reading session

ᯓ★

you flick through the papers detailing the information you recorded from your client. you and zhongli are out on a scouting mission to obtain clues that could point the case in the right direction. “are you listening?”

“mhm,” zhongli claims, but you can see your words are flowing in one ear and out the other with the way he is plucking free food samples as if they were flowers, bunched together in his hand like a bouquet, offered to him by the fawning ladies at the market stalls. the foreboding premonition of another unproductive day is brimming to the surface.

“where should we start?” you clear your throat, keeping the task on track.

“we should entertain any threads and trace it back, even if it proves to be a dead end. there is no such thing as a bad clue,” zhongli pauses in front of a shop. “for starters, what’s this?”

you raise an eyebrow. “a waffle maker.”

“interesting. what about this?”

“a robot vacuum cleaner. would be good for the office.”

“indeed,” zhongli’s eyes shift. “and this? such a profound colour, this corrosive yellow that erodes my vision is quite unpleasant. could it be…? is this a weapon of mass destruction?”

“zhongli, sir, that’s a banana.“ you shake your head. “is this important?”

zhongli nods. “could be. is it really a banana? a true investigator must question even the simplest of theories.” he points a finger at your pocket. “and this?”

“... that’s my wallet.” 

zhongli has a penchant for being attracted to your money, if he can trace the imprint of your wallet against your pocket. 

zhongli nods, closing his eyes. “a sacred item indeed,” he opens one eye which looks at you expectantly. “i suspect you have quite a formidable sum of mora on your person. and mora is an imperative factor that may save the day, or destroy the world. after all, we still do not know if the banana is deceiving us in its testimony, hm?” 

you give up, handing the money over to the shopkeeper.

his philosophy remains a cryptic language to you. perhaps it’s the gap in experience that makes it hard to connect a bridge to whatever planet zhongli lives on, a divide in universes between you, a disciple, and a master. sometimes, you do believe that there’s a rip in time and space with how zhongli’s senses lag behind as if stuck in the past.

you hand one over to your side. “here—huh?” where did he go?

one look behind you and you find zhongli by a lamp post. a young girl, scratching the ground with a sharp branch with a pout, gazes at zhongli. “who are you?”

zhongli slowly crouches down. “someone who listens to everyone’s troubles. would you mind telling me yours?”

no response. then, a small stomach growls.

zhongli motions at you. immediately, you walk over. “may i take one of the bananas?” you hand him one. “why don’t you take this?”

despite her embarrassed expression, the girl grabs it. she hesitates. “... mama, gone.”

your lips part in realisation.

“come now, we’ll help find your parents.” zhongli offers a hand but the girl extends his invitation, taking his whole arm instead, hugging it. he chuckles, picking her up, her arms naturally cradling his neck as if he is family.

you observe the warm scene, smiling. “you’d make a pretty good parent.” 

zhongli watches you, quiet for a moment. “why don't we raise one together?”

“oh, i’m not—”

“alhaitham can be the teacher; wriothesley will do the cleaning. i can do the cooking, and childe can do all the shopping. you can play the toys with the child.”

“ah. of course,” teyvat’s sleuth operatives is one big family, after all. you have to ask, “also, that banana, how did you know to buy it?”

“well, who knows?” zhongli pats the girl’s back, helping her fall asleep. there’s a glint in his eyes when he looks at you, asking you to work out the mystery. to chase after the clues he left.

another cryptic answer. the master really does live in another world—one that you want to keep learning about.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞 as your rival!

✦ works for the rival agency which, unfortunately, is much more popular. when watching cat videos, their adverts often pop up with childe’s annoying face plastered on it, winking at you

✦ tags along when you are on a case. doesn’t he have anything else to do? at least he buys your fav drink from the vending machines. although he trails around you like baggage, you hate to say that he is good at what he does.

✦ … a bit too good at his job. you’ve spotted him slinking into dark alleys occasionally. what’s he doing there? one day you will know.

✦ trained under zhongli before. therefore, he is lowkey in competition with you. any task is met with the following question: who’s the better apprentice? so far, the score is even, but you’ll get him next time

✦ never enters your agency through the front door. opts to crawl in through the window (no idea why, maybe it's the challenge). comes bearing gifts such as expensive fruit baskets, bouquets, and medicinal roots like ginseng. you’d think he’s meeting his in-laws or something. rare, but may bring his younger brother teucer as well. on these days, teyvat’s sleuth operatives becomes half private agency and half daycare. 

✦ for uniform, the red shirt from his birthday art is nice. maybe a leather jacket that hangs on the shoulder. wears accessories: earrings, rings, bracelets, watches, gloves. bro is something of a fashion icon, tbf he’s rich so might as well

ᯓ★

desolation unwraps itself before you, beckoning its finger at you to sink into the drab swamps. you saw a tuft of ginger hair disappear into this alley, submerged by its fog. it is inevitable; you need to know the truth behind the mystery to quell the ‘investigator’ in you. 

as soon as you think that, your face hits against, according to your common sense, a wall—if the wall defined was actually an amalgamation of flesh and muscle. 

“need our help?” 

a voice irritates your ears. you frown, looking up at the culprit. “you can’t steal our catchphrase like that, childe.” 

childe—your rival, your nemesis, the guy who childishly filled a ketchup bottle with strawberry jam so that he could chug it in front of you, without flinching, solely to disgust you, and counted it as a victory—that childe, shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“boss, who’s dat?” a voice calls from the darkness.

your ears perk up. boss? childe? a responsible leader? no way. you push childe aside. “... who are you guys?”

a whole lot of people are uncomfortably staring at you. “us?” one man stands out from the crowd. “the fatui, duh. have ya not heard of us, newbie?” the man proudly puffs his chest out.

childe rubs his forehead. “you doofus.”

bells were ringing in your head, red alarms were sounding. “the fatui? aren’t you guys wanted?”

before you can reach for your phone, childe catches your hand. “don’t,” his tone is rigid. it takes you by surprise. “look,” childe sighs. “they’re not bad people, promise.” he lets go.

a fatui agent is dancing. “yup, we have many talents, like stealing lunch money.” that is literally illegal. “say, why don’t we host a talent show?”

“oooooh!!” a chorus of easily amused delight.

“me! me!” a burly man wearing a tank top and shorts, holds up a jar of hotdogs. he twists open the lid.

you and childe exchange glances. the next sequence of events you witness are really unfortunate. “oh– please don’t shove that up your– well, okay then.” the sky looks especially wonderful today.

these guys should be in prison after all. 

“ahaha, okay, okay,” childe gestures with his hands, asking everyone to quiet down. “alas, this should be enough–”

“but i can break into people’s houses without triggering the alarm system!”

“i can use my anemo vision to amplify my fart!”

“aha…” the light in childe’s face falters. suddenly, he grabs your hand. “run!”

“—!” in an instant, your legs suddenly burst into strides, finding the right pace to keep up with childe. “where are we going?!”

“anywhere! anywhere is good!” under the sky, the breeze carries his airy laughter. in his eyes, the blue sea parts, a brightness coruscating on its horizon. it is refreshing, brilliant, childish. and vulnerable. 

you can’t help getting carried along by the waves.

.

“i should report you… for almost getting me killed by an anemo-amplified fart,” hands on your knees, the words struggle out of your mouth.

“sorry about that, they’re just really friendly.” he laughs. you notice, the way childe expresses himself towards the fatui, it is a delicate artistry woven with heartfelt tenderness. it’s the same fragileness as when he talks about his family and home. “how about i buy you a drink?” 

you contemplate his offer. after taking a few more breaths, you stand up. “even though i know you meddle with the fatui? how does a vending machine drink suffice?” childe tilts his head, encouraging you to speak. “for a week straight at least. there’s a new cafe opening, but the prices are too steep for my wallet.”

“okay, okay,” his gentle, tender voice extends to you, lifted by a smile. the blue sea parts, and behind it is childe, offering you a place in his home. “you win this time.”

𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 as your childhood friend!

✦ more like estranged childhood friend. you left teyvat at a young age, leaving your childhood friend, alhaitham, behind. you only returned recently, surprised to find that little alhaitham grew up well 

✦ does not concern himself with anything that doesn't yield results, keeps conversations succinct, conveying what needs to be said for the job with as little words as possible. only interjects if something intrigues him, or when anyone makes a clueless comment that needs correcting

✦ favours are not regarded well. one time, you asked him to grab you some coffee if he was going out for lunch break. alhaitham sighed, listing the side effects of overconsumption on caffeine and how a sufficient amount of sleep will do you better. although, when you came back to the office after an outing, you found a mysterious cup of coffee on your desk. must be the wind

✦ dislikes outputting energy where it’s not needed. when finished with his tasks, he will head to the breakroom or the corner with the bookshelf to relax until zhongli’s next order. rarely seen at his desk

✦ went to uni for a comp sci degree but it wasn't challenging enough. dropped out, but zhongli, a guest lecturer, managed to recruit him after witnessing his talent. has rejected prestigious titles and positions in favour of a peaceful life. but with you in the picture, he wonders how long this peace would last

✦ wears strapped pouches and harnesses… around the chest... and biceps... straps around the thighs... (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) for utility ofc. equipped with useful items for the job, like a gps tracker, voice recorders, spy cameras, and his music player. 

ᯓ★

“can you afford to be slacking off right now?” the silence breaks, and you are forced to speak.

“i’m not.” you quickly glance at the time on your screen. “besides, i should start heading home before the last train runs—”

“the last train has already gone.”

“... great.” you sigh. “how come you didn’t tell me earlier?”

“the sharp possibility that you’d insist on finishing your work is comparable to chasing after a dead end, and ultimately, a waste of time.”

a trained oracle, predicting every branching future based on your rooted disposition. it is difficult to debate against that which has inputted all your details, computing every possible output.

you rest your chin on your palm. “what are you even doing here? shouldn’t you be getting your healthy eight hours of sleep?” 

“and in the time that has spanned since you’ve sat at your desk, shouldn’t you be done already?”

you object, “you can’t deflect me with a question.”

“which principle asserts otherwise? i can.”

“you can’t.”

“can.”

“can’t.”

“can–”

you sigh frustratedly, knowing that you’re talking to a wall. throw your words at it and it bounces right back, a ball hitting at you squarely. 

with purpose, you blurt out, “little haitham was so much cuter, you used to follow me everywhere.”

and finally, alhaitham looks at you for the first time today. and for the first time today, you get a good look at him too. his posture manages to be effortlessly upright, not a lick of exhaustion burdened on his face.

“why are you bringing that up?” alhaitham returns to his monitor.

the buzzing of the ceiling light fills the silence. you blink. once. “we promised to the stars that we’d be the best detective duo in teyvat.” the mechanical clicking of keyboards clogs your ears. blink. you tug at the cuffs of your sleeve. “to solve all the mysteries, crimes, and beat up the bad people hiding in the world.” 

sounds of the mouse clicking. a pause builds. alhaitham glances at you. “and? we’re doing that pretty well, aren’t we?” you can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic.

“i thought you’ve forgotten about that,” you admit.

“it was you who forgot.”

you sit up. “come again?” your eyes twinkle, watching alhaitham, your childhood friend. the hope that swells on your face, and alhaitham notices it; the stars in your eyes, he’s tracing the constellations in them. 

"why do you think i'm here in the first place?" his voice dips, as if hoping you didn't hear that.

a promise embedded in the stars, and one of them was waiting for the fated reunion. then, in a split second, you see a younger haitham tugging at your sleeve, following your footsteps. you hide the smile behind your hand. “you’ve been waiting for me all this time?”

“don’t flatter yourself.” alhaitham quickly extinguishes. ouch. another pause washes over before he speaks up, “come over.”

your eyes widen. “over? where?”

“to mine.”

“mine? yours?”

“my apartment. it’s close by.”

“your place?”

“yes,” alhaitham glares at you. “do i happen to be speaking in another language?”

“i mean, how come?” 

“i do not want to be investigating a missing person’s case anytime soon,” alhaitham stands up, packing his belongings, leaving you no choice but to swiftly follow suit. “and our photo albums,” he stops moving. “i've kept them.” 

your heart skips, touched by the rare sincerity. you tease, “so you do care about me.”

alhaitham scoffs. “it's only a sensible suggestion. i don’t.”

“you do.”

“don’t.”

“oh, come on.”

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 as your colleague!

✦ was classmates with you at a police academy. by the academy was an arcade where you two played too many games. after graduation, you two silently seperated. wriothesley worked in enforcement for some years before gaining his investigators licence, moved to teyvat, and eventually settled at teyvat’s sleuth operatives

✦ your current hangout place with wriothesley is still an arcade, the one by the agency - it reminds you two of the past. favourite games include money-grubbing claw machines, boxing machines, and “dancing dance rev rev” (i dont wanna get sued–). that, or you end up chatting the day away about whatever new complaints you received from alhaitham, not realising the sun has set and the owner ends up shooing you two out

✦ owns a red motorbike. will take you on rides for fun, watching sunsets on the highway feeling the breeze. will take you home whenever you need—just give him a call. he insists that the best place to hold onto is around his waist

✦ the tea connoisseur of all time. drinks a minimum of 5 cups a day, and you worry he might drop dead one day. you’ve tried to get him onto different drinks, like the popular boba tea, but plain old tea always triumphs in the end. tea is life and zhongli agrees

✦ good at subduing any targets. prefers not to shed blood, but will deescalate confrontations, usually by submission rather than violence

✦ messy uniform. shirt not buttoned all the way up, rolled sleeves, fingerless gloves, dark colours. often seen with bandages along his arm. wears a choker. like a werewolf, rugged

ᯓ★

years back, before you returned to teyvat, you attended a police academy to aid in the preparation and experience needed for your investigators licence.

you always frequented the desolate arcade by the academy. there was no door, the arcade was impartial to any of its visitors, like an open hug.

time and time again, you blew your stress off after a long day. the boxing machine was particularly satisfying in that regard. you and that machine watched the early evening resign, and the night shift taking over everyday. 

the tedium was so easily penetrated by soaking crimson, the liquid leaked vividly dripping down from the forehead. a moment was needed for you to process it. 

a dark-haired person sat languidly against an arcade machine, in a uniform you recognise. half bent-over, head tilting. the sanctity of life departing through hurried breaths. 

“h-hey,” you crouched next to him, hands outstretched but were waiting for a coherent command. “shit.” the lectures slipped by you, running past but never handing the baton. it felt useless.

suddenly, your hand was flicked away by the person. behind his fringe, it was frozen, crystallised, icicles shot past his dark strands piercing you. “don’t bother. it’s nothing.”

eyebrows furrowed. “you’re insane,” you brushed the hair out of his face, finding splotches of bruising. his lip, busted red. injuries walked all over his skin, trampling the delicate layer. his complexion ghastly pale, you weren't sure if it was his skull peeking through his skin. “i need to call you an ambulan–”

“i’m serious,” he reiterated, “i… i just need a moment, some quiet. please. i don’t want them to find…” his sentence trailed off. 

you gulped, hands trembling. “you’re sure you don’t need me to call?”

he nodded.

he reassured you, but you can’t help but feel weighed by the fact that an injured person was right next to you. you made a mental note to ensure he visits a doctor by the end of this. sighing, you slowly sat next to him.

“... i’m just stressed. tired.” his words hung heavy in the blank air.

a familiar word. a sentiment that resonated. all too familiar. 

if there was a way to cheer him up... there was only one thing you knew about feeling burdened. you point a thumb at the boxing machine. “wanna blow off some of that stress?” 

.

“do you think that the arcade by the academy is still open?”

“i hope so. i wanna know if we’re still first on all those machines. and if my bloodstain still frightens people when they walk in,” a snicker. “remember when we played ’dancing dance rev rev’ for six hours straight? those were good days.”

you and wriothesley watch the boxing machine, your joint high scores blinking on the leaderboard in excited colours. 

“do you still have those old plushies i gave you from the claw machine?” you ask.

“of course,” wriothesley searches his pockets and pulls out his keys. a miniature wolf plush keychain hangs, bobbing up and down. “like this one. named it after you, how adorable they are.” he playfully pokes "mini you", cracking a grin.

you smile at the gesture. after all these years, you never forgot each other. “hey, no bullying.” you pause. “... weren’t we supposed to be tracking a suspect? i think they have already left this arcade.”

“oh, yeah. oops.”

a pair of fraternal twins stand outside outside a small agency, reading the sign over and over: teyvat's sleuth operatives… sounds tacky and lame... they think in unison. 

it is only when you approach them, that they stop hesitating. your uniform tidy, almost mastering the archetype of a professional private investigator, smiling at your newfound clients. you are no longer the new recruit. “need our help?”

a/n: i havent played genshin seriously since inazuma so i missed out on many events ( ; ω ; ) sorry alhaitham and wrio i tried my best⭐ lemme know if my reserach sucks bc my references were ace attorney and google (ﾉД`) also i wanted to draw their uniforms but got lazy, so i drew the banner instead (･ω<)☆ anw im off to read more manhwa (great start to the year), ill be back when the motivation finally whacks me hard again. if anyone wants to request ideas, feel free! my inbox is open 24/7! happy new year!!!! 🎆🎆🎆2025 will also be the year of the snake, so shoutout to all my snakes😎

[acepalindrome]

Emmrich was somewhat surprised to find that he was still able to cry as a lich.

After years of observing the lich lords, wise and solemn and seemingly removed from the concerns of mortals, he had assumed he might feel similar. Perhaps a great enlightenment would come over him, and he would find a sense of calm and peace, emotions settling into a still lake within.

Instead, he found his experience with lichdom to be quite the opposite. Without the distractions of a flesh and blood body, he was nothing but emotion. He felt everything so keenly.

What broke him that day wasn’t some great moment of pain and tragedy. It was Rook, reaching up to stroke his cheekbone. There was no hesitation, not a hint of fear or disgust. They touched his skull with all the love and tenderness they had ever shown him when he was made of flesh. They called him ‘sweetheart.’

Emmrich was completely undone.

A noise lurched out of him that he didn’t immediately recognize as a sob.

Rook was frowning, concerned, worried. Their hands had moved from his face to his arms, pulling him towards the couch and murmuring confused words of comfort that Emmrich simply couldn’t process at the moment. There was only emotion, only the rush of relief and love and guilt and fear and oh, Rook still loves him. Even as he is now, Rook loves him. They promised they would, but he had still braced himself, because how could he ask them to stay? How could he expect them to want him now? But they do, they do, they love him. He collapsed against Rook onto the couch, his bandaged hands gripping at their shirt to anchor them in place.

He kept pulling in great breaths that turned into heaving sobs and hiccups, which was perhaps the strangest part of this emotional outburst. He didn’t have lungs! There was nothing inside his ribcage at all. And yet, his body seemed determined to go through the traditional motions of crying. He might have called it ‘muscle memory,’ but without any muscles, that term did not feel appropriate.

He was vaguely aware that this reaction was overblown and was probably alarming to Rook, but he found himself quite unable to stop, or even rein the intensity of his outburst back in. As a mortal, he could have taken deep breaths to calm himself, pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off tears, gulped down a lump in his throat. He didn’t know how to make himself stop now, and was helpless to do anything but cling to Rook until the storm had run its course over him.

It was a strange feeling too, as the emotions began to ebb. There were few of the usual side effects of a crying fit. No headache, no nasal congestion, no red and puffy eyes. There was only a sense of exhaustion, and a fogginess in his mind. He leaned into Rook and let himself drift as he calmed, watching the slowing tears drip down into his lap.

But they weren’t tears at all, were they? Not normal mortal tears, at any rate. They seemed slightly more viscous, a bit slow to drip out of his eyes and down his face. But most notably, there was a very faint, brief glow as he watched them fall, vanishing immediately as they soaked into his trousers.

“Rook, my love,” Emmrich croaked quietly, “please fetch me that vial on the table. I must collect a sample.”

“A sample? Of what?” Rook asked, leaning just far enough to grab the vial without taking away their arm that was still curled around Emmrich protectively. And then they burst out laughing when he held the vial beneath his still leaking eye sockets.

“These aren’t simple saltwater tears,” Emmrich insisted primly. “I would be remiss to let the opportunity to study them pass me by.”

“Now I know you’re feeling better,” Rook said with a fond chuckle, and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

Emmrich managed to not lapse into another fit of sobbing. It was a start.

[peakyrain]

activities to do w/ your s/o!

˚➶┊｡˚ poisonous candy!

lay out a handful of candies—it could be skittles, m&m or whatever candy you prefer—and secretly choose one candy each to "poison" w/o the other person seeing. don’t forget which one you picked.

once you've both picked, take turns eating one candy at a time trying not to eat the poisonous one! after each candy, the other person says "safe" if it wasn't the poisoned one.

you continue back and forth until one of you eats the "poisoned" candy and loses the game.

˚➶┊｡˚ wedding cake taste test!

buy samples of different wedding cakes and rate them together from 1-10, because why not! it's a fun way to learn about your partner's likes and dislikes when it comes to sweets.

and if you're not having a big wedding, like me, you can still have fun and instead spend your (very unlimited) money on cute experiences like this!

˚➶┊｡˚ customized t-shirts!

get two plain t-shirts and fabric paint. paint each other's arms and carefully hug each other while pressing your painted arms onto the shirts to leave a print. then gently remove your arms and let the paint dry.

you can leave it at that, or add cute finishing touches—like writing each other's names or initials on the shirts :P

˚➶┊｡˚ workout competition!

compete to see which one of you are able to complete certain activities while carrying the other person. if you manage to do it—you get one point for each completed move! the challenge includes:

a hip thrust with your partner sitting sideways on your lap.

a squat, with your s/o climbing on your back and wrapping their arms around your neck and legs around your waist.

a deadlift, with your s/o lying down sideways while forming "handles" with one arm and leg for you to lift from

and a push up, basically just a normal push-up with your lover balanced on your back.

then you switch roles and see who gets the most points! maybe even choose a prize for the winner before starting to raise the stakes :)

˚➶┊｡˚ pros and cons list!

grab notebooks and pens. start writing everything you love and appreciate about each other—this would be the pros list. include things you admire, little habits you adore, and what you wouldn't want them to change for the world.

then, move on to the cons list. this part is for constructive criticism or feedback—things the other person does that might bug you or you'd like them to be more mindful of. the point is to be kind and thoughtful, not mean.

once you're done writing, take turns sharing you lists. promise to listen and be understanding. don't get defensive, and use it as a way to grow closer and improving your relationship!

that's it for now, maybe i'll make a part two :D

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 24th

Day 24: Glove Kink // Masturbation //  Somnophilia

Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Somnophilia, prior consent, oral sex (female receiving), teasing, body worship, vaginal sex

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Being pried from sleep is like waking up in a sensual dream. Hands are always gentle, even for how large they are, how strong you know they are. 

His lips are always warm, slightly wet and full of unspoken praise as they move across your body. Showering you in that feathery light touch that makes you sigh out, even if you are still wrapped up in the most pleasant dreams of the night. 

“Shhhhh sweetheart.” It’s whispered in your ear, but you don’t hear anything but the tone. It settles you and there’s a curve of his lips in happiness when it does. “I’ve got you.”

Marcus always wants you. There’s something about the deep connection between you that makes him constantly crave you. You never brush off his affectionate touch, leaning into his kisses and giving them back just as reverently. It just fuels the need for you that has built over the course of your relationship. 

He had also confessed something. He loved the idea of waking you up to his touch. His tongue, his cock if he could. Biting his lip in worry as he then quickly assuring you that it wasn’t something he had to do, just something he had been thinking about. 

It made you smile, remembering how you have woken up so many times to him hard to the point of aching and subtly grinding against your hip as he kissed you good morning. 

When you had told him that you didn’t mind waking up to him fucking you, he had almost choked on his tongue before smirking and from that confession your weekend ritual had been born. 

Softly, his hands remove the barriers between you. You sleep naked so it’s just a matter of unwinding the sheets from around your limbs, spreading you out and moving between your thighs. 

He had loved that you consented to this, that being key to his pleasure. That you trust him to love you into waking and starting your day off with him doing this for you. 

Hands squeeze your hips, broad shoulders braces between your open legs and if you were to open your eyes, you would find the sweetest brown eyes staring at your folds with a worshipful hunger that would make you feel like a goddess, even before the first touch of his tongue hits you. 

He loves this. The sweet, tangy, musky scent of your pussy after sleep is intoxicating. You are obsession worthy. He’s addicted to the smell and taste of your skin. Coaxing small sounds from your still sleeping body as he slides his tongue through your folds and flicks it over your sensitive clit. 

Even in sleep, you are responsive. Your thighs spread and then press against his shoulders, your pussy clenching so prettily around nothing. Making him pull away for a moment so he can just watch in the soft morning light. 

Smiling when you whine unconsciously and grinding down. Seeking out that friction and contact even if you don’t know you are doing it. How you are searching for him. 

That makes him eagerly dive into you again. Keeping his tongue sliding against your sensitive clit as he groans quietly. Urging your hips to move with the gentle pressure of his palms, pulling you down every so slightly into his face. 

You would never know it, but his cock is hard and leaking. Grinding it against the bed while he laps at you like you are his favorite treat, because you are. Moaning softly in your sleep and whimpering his name makes him throb in pleasure, twisting that butterfly sensation deep in his stomach. 

Pushing lower, his tongue curls up inside your velvety walls. Sampling the sweet juices that are already dripping out of you. Groaning and vibrating the sound into you as he licks deeper. 

Slowly, so slowly, you are starting to move more. Breaking from that deep sleep into something lighter. Hovering on the edge of consciousness and pleasure. Something delicious is happening to you and wanting to feel more of it as it filters through your being. 

Marcus continues, slowly working you up until your body is hovering on the edge of that pinnacle. Poised to cum and body aching for it. Still your eyes are closed and your body pliant, letting him move you how he wants. 

Only when he feels that first tremor does he stop. Making you whine softly when he pulls away and trails soft kisses up your body as he moves over you. Hovering on his elbow to slot himself between your thighs. Fitting himself at your entrance and starting to break you open with the slowest roll of his hips that he can manage. 

It takes so long to fill you. Every pulsing grip of your walls makes him want to push forward faster but that would wake you up. He loves watching your sleeping face as he slips inside you. Filling you up to the hilt. 

When he’s buried deep, he slowly pushes an arm up underneath your shoulders. Curling you up into him and finally kissing your lips. 

That always wakes you up and he loves how you immediately smile against his lips before you even open your eyes. Your hands coming up to caress his shoulders and your hum into his mouth is loving. 

Opening your eyes to see Marcus above you. His eyes full of love and wonder as he stares down at you. Lighting up even more when he sees that you are awake and looking at him. Your walls clench down around him, still amazed that this thoughtful, handsome and loving FBI agent is yours. 

“Good morning, baby.” Your voice is still thick with sleep. But you still groan in pleasure when he pulls his hips back to rock into you again. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” Marcus rasps out. “Want you to cum for me.” He groans. “You’re so close, I feel it. Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me this morning?”

You whimper, knowing that it won’t take too many more thrusts before you do. Always worked up by the time you wake from the way Marcus takes care of you while you are still sleeping. 

He wants you to cum because he is trying to hold out. Ready to cum himself because he gets to indulge in somnophilia with you. Loving every second of it and thanking his lucky stars you love it as much as he does. 

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Discovery and Progress (part 5)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

He snuck away to check on the little creature he made every day while he was waiting for his books to arrive. He was hoping they had more information because he had no idea what the little thing was! It was cute and he’d named it George but he didn’t know what it was and despite what he was working with it hadn’t occurred to him that he might Create Life!!

Like, yes he was planning to resurrect some things later, or at least test those things, but create it out of basically nothing? No, he was not expecting that and it did worry him a little bit about his future tests.

He had hit up the nearest pet store for three dishes and some cat food and rabbit food because he didn’t know I f the little thing was a herbivore or not. He put both and water in the circle but as far as he could tell it hadn’t eaten anything yet. It occasionally landed in the dish of water and splashed around a little, which he filmed, but it had yet to eat anything.

He might have worried but George was still bouncing around its enclosure as energetically as ever and actually seemed to be growing, though not at an alarming rate. He was curious about where the mass was coming from but he had taken a few samples, apologizing the entire time as he used a needle soaked in Lazarus Water to extract just a little so biopsy. He had learned quickly that things not soaked in Lazarus water couldn’t touch the little thing if it didn’t want to be touched.

From what he could see it really was just more of what he had used to make George in the first place. If it was internally producing this emotionally stable variant of Lazarus water he would have said that was a solution to his problem, if only it didn’t obviously hurt the little thing to have it extracted. He wasn’t sure how it hurt George because it had no nervous system and no mechanism with which to feel pain that he could see but it was obviously at least uncomfortable so he was going to have to find another way. Damian would never forgive him if he did anything else.

His books finally arrived a few days later, one to the manor and Sam passed the other two to him at school so he told his family he had a club to attend and then skipped out on the club to head to Crime Alley. Safe in his lab with George sort of pebbled on his lap and a blanket around his shoulders Danny settled in to read his arcane and forbidden texts. He should bring a kettle, he wanted tea but felt silly boiling water for it on one of his Bunsen burners.

He skipped until the section on the Infinite Realms, he would probably go back and read the sections on the other known magical realms later but right now he was particularly interested in why the infinite realms were calling to him. He found out why as soon as they described what the Realms looked like in the book. A galaxy full of floating islands and inhabitants who were tinged green? Now that sounded a lot like what called for him from deep inside the Lazarus pools.

Had… had no one made this connection before? But no, as far as he knew he was the only one who had ever been to the bottom of the pool and returned. He was the only one who had seen that hole in the world, and he had never told anyone about it. He had told Damian about the call but never about what he had actually seen. The league of assassins had control of the pits and they’d never done experiments regarding emotion so no, the connection had never been made.

He put the book down and pushed his face into his hands while George gave a worried little trill. It was the Infinite Realms that had been calling to him in his dreams for years, it could be something within the Realms but he doesn’t think that it was, with how huge and agent the voice was he thought it was the realm itself. Holy Shit.

He sighed, rubbed his hands over his face and back through his hair, and then kept reading. The book went on to describe the realms and the ways that people got to them, the occasional natural and unstable portals that opened on their own. Again the Pits were not mentioned, but those were not temporary portals! They had been there for centuries, and they didn’t seem like portals, they seemed like wounds.

He ran his hand back through his hair again and sighed, well that would explain why it needed help if it was wounded somehow. In that war he’d been given dreams of? Maybe. It also talked about the ambient energy of the place that they called Ectoplasm, the energy of the dead though it wasn’t only dead who lived there. That transitioned to them talking about the known species that inhabited the Infinite Realms, starting with the most basic.

Those seemed to be a sort of octopus creature and a… blob ghost. Naturally occurring species that just came into existence when the requisite elements came together. “Well, I guess I know what you are now don’t I?” Danny said, gently squishing the little creature on his lap which hummed louder and relaxed even more onto his lap, spilling over the edges of his legs just a little.

The octopi could be predatory to smaller, weaker inhabitants of the realm, and were sometimes responsible for hauntings on earth, but according to the book blobs were completely harmless. They were filter feeders just wandering around consuming ambient ectoplasm through their skins like frogs in water. That was a relief! Danny had started to worry about George not eating anything, and he could let the blob out of the circle finally too though Danny would miss it if it left.

It was also very interesting because George Had been growing which meant that that energy must have been available to it. It did say that in certain places where ‘the veil was thin’ bits of the energy of the Infinite Realms could leak through.

He gently nudged George off of his lap and went to get one of his Lazarus treated filters he’d been using to add and remove emotions and set it to filter all before waving it through the air. He felt a bit silly doing this but this was basically the way his blob ghost had been wandering around its enclosure. Once he felt like he would have caught something if there was something to catch he went and slid it under his microscope and, sat down to have a look.

There it was, in very small amounts, just traces but still he the particles of that magical chemical he was intimately familiar with now. Well that was… interesting, but it did explain some things about Gotham’s particular brand of fucked up. But that was all hypothesis, what was certain was that his attention needed to shift from Creating to Harvesting and filtering.

He already had the filters he’d used to add and remove the emotions from the Lazarus water, but they were small and impractical for this purpose. He knew the direction he needed to go though, and that was a big step!

First things first though. Letting George go, he’d already spent enough time trapped in that circle. Just to be safe Danny set up a protective circle around his safe storing the Lazarus water, he wasn’t sure if George would try to get into his supply, and for now it was still limited. Once that was done he went over and scuffed his foot through the chalk forming the ring containing George the blob. Danny hoped that it wouldn’t leave really, he was fond of the little guy! But it wasn’t right to keep it contained just for his own enjoyment.

He stood back and watched as George bumbled towards Danny, as they often did when Danny was close enough. They seemed startled when they didn’t run into the wall, tumbling a little through the air and bumping into Danny’s face.

Danny was a little startled by his own laugh, how purely delighted he felt as he held up his hands to catch George as they took a tumble. He grinned down at George as they blinked up at him and then trilled, leaping up from Danny’s hands and started nuzzling enthusiastically against Danny’s face. He laughed and playfully turned his face away as George chased him and kept nuzzling before zooming around Danny’s head excitedly cheeping before zooming off through a wall.

It left Danny breathless and smiling, feeling an odd combination of hollow and happy. He was going to miss George but they were clearly so happy to be able to fly free, and Danny was glad to be able to finally give them that. Maybe if he was lucky George would come back to visit later. Danny would be glad to see them.

He shook himself out of the bittersweet melancholy and returned to planning what the best way to filter out the ambient ectoplasm that existed in Gotham. He needed a bigger filter, it would help if he knew whether it moved with the air or if it was an independent material. Still a fan wouldn’t be hard to add, and air circulation might help. He needed to make a few prototypes and see what worked best. While they processed he could work on a way to detect it in the air so he could find the best places in Gotham to set up the finished products. Only in crime ally though, and he’d let Jason know first so he wouldn’t think the strange machinery was a bomb or something.

His mind was three steps ahead as his hands worked on the first and most basic of his prototypes. When they moved to fast and he knocked something over he forced himself to sit back and breath, re-centering himself in this moment. He could think about what he was doing next any time, but he could only work on this when he was in his lab. He needed to focus on this, and what he could add to his next prototype, before he completely lost track of what he was doing and broke something.

He exhaled and closed his eyes, taking a few more breaths before he returned to his current task.

By the time his alarm went off to remind him it was time to go home he had finished two of his prototypes and had started on the third. He considered ignoring the alarm briefly but it wasn’t worth it so he sighed, regretfully putting down his project and starting to pack up. He would have to come back as soon as he could and finish the third one. He’d set them all up at the same time and see which collected the most after a few days, then produce more of that one. They should be fine to leave, none of them were built of anything particularly volatile.

He got home just in time to pretend to everyone he’d been there the whole time, but he couldn’t stop thinking about his work, and couldn’t hide how distracted he was. He blamed it on a book he’d been really into before they came home, but he didn’t think Damian was buying it really. That was going to be a problem, he’d never really been allowed to indulge his interests as a child, he hadn’t known just how fixated he could get on things!

Tim was the same way but that was different, he didn’t really hide anything that he was working on, sometimes he just didn’t talk about it but… well Tim was always working on something! Some cold case or some new piece of tech so when he was particularly distracted no one thought anything of it. Danny wasn’t sure that Tim was of course, but if Tim wanted to hide anything he could do it in plain sight because no one questioned his obsessive behaviour.

If Danny did, if he started looking tired all the time and his grades started to slip there would definitely be questions about it! He needed to work on that, or find an excuse. An excuse sounded like a better idea if he was honest and maybe he could find one?

He excused himself to bed once he was sure his family was alright, but he didn’t sleep. At first he pulled out his notebook he’d hidden in the floor of his room and worked on ideas for a Ecto-sensor, he had to get those ideas out of his head before he could focus on what to tell his family. Once he had gotten his ideas out and replaced the book in it’s hiding spot he sit on his bed, crossed his legs and started rocking side to side a little as he thought.

The easiest excuse was the most obvious he thought. Damian’s and his childhood had been traumatic by any definition. The effects it had on Damian had always been more obvious but Danny had always presented himself as fairly well adjusted, though he knew the people closest to him saw the cracks in that facade. He could play on that. Now that he was safe and secure in his place in the family he could say the trauma of it was really settling in. He could blame being tired on nightmares about his childhood, any slip in grades or distracted behaviour could be blamed on being tired.

Bruce would believe it, and worry, he might try to get Danny into therapy but, frankly he wasn’t opposed to that. Especially if he could get some of the rest of the family into therapy as well to ‘support him’, since they all really needed it. It might also give him some tools to better help Jason. He’d already read up on some but talking to a professional to see how they act would help him better slip into the role of covert therapist for his wayward brother could be helpful.

The only thing that worried him about that option was if his family would see him as weak. He didn’t think they’d do it consciously, even Damian had gotten to the point where he wouldn’t tease Danny about showing weakness. But they might think it, treat him as something fragile and breakable. Coddle him and keep a closer eye on him making it harder to sneak out.

It was a risk, but everything was a risk and in this case… he thought the benefits would outweigh the risks. If the family did start coddling him he could always weaponize the therapist and tell them that being smothered was making it worse, he though that would be enough to make Bruce back off.

He hummed to himself and grimaced before rocking further and flopping down on his bed. He wouldn’t talk to Bruce tomorrow, or the next day. Maybe in the next week he would come up with a better idea. And if not… he thought it would be a good idea to talk to Bruce about this before he was confronted with it. Having the appearance of being open and trusting of his father was key.

It was almost 2 am when he finally got to sleep and woke up bleary eyed and annoyed to his alarm at 7 am. He sighed and dragged himself out of his bed, washing the grit out of his eyes with cold water to wake himself up before he got dressed and went down to breakfast. He ignored the worried looks Damian gave him and kept his usual smile on his face as he complimented Alfred on the food, and teased Tim about using coffee as a crutch for working to late. He didn’t think they noticed just how tired and out of it he was too, maybe he should start drinking coffee too, but he didn’t want to stunt his growth when he was already short for his age.

He let himself zone out on the way to school and put his face back on in the halls on his way to class. He doodled and leaned on one hand through class, staring in the direction of the teacher without really seeing them. His notebook was full of little cartoon ghosts, and very few notes by the time the class was over. Maybe Sam wouldn’t mind if he borrowed hers, or he could always sweet talk one of his classmates, he was good at that.

He asked Sam and Tucker to not eat in the cafeteria, and with fewer eyes on him dozed off while they bickered companionably. When he woke up it was because of the silence, and he found them both looking at him worriedly.

“Danny are you okay?” Tucker asked hesitantly.

“You’re not in any sort of trouble are you?” Sam added, with a look in her eye that promised hellfire to anyone who was giving Danny a hard time.

“No I’m fine,” Danny sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’ve been making a lot of progress with my tests, but it’s coming at the cost of sleep. I don’t know how I’m going to balance family, school, sleep, and work, especially when I’m still keeping the work secret. And I don’t want to neglect either of you either!”

“Damn, that’s not really something we can defend you from,” Sam said with an expression he’d call a pout on anyone else. It made him laugh.

“No, but thank you for the thought.”

“Maybe we could hang out with you while you work? So you can at least combine too things. We could help you study then too when… whatever you’re doing doesn’t take to much attention?” Tucker suggested, which was a helpful suggestion.

“Not for now,” Danny said shaking his head. “The chemicals I’m working with have… affects from long term exposure. It’s to late for me already but until I understand them more or know how to stop them I don’t want you around that shit.

“Helping me study though… If you wouldn’t mind I think that would be really helpful. Can we do a study group once a week or something? I’m sure I’ll be zoning out more in class and be more tired as I work, helping fill in the gaps of things I miss, would be really helpful.” Danny said giving them his best puppy-dog eyes.

“God damn it that is the most boring way you could possibly ask us to help,” Sam groaned dramatically. “But fine, and as soon as there’s something more interesting we can do you let us know!”

“I will, I promise!” Danny said, 100% meaning his word this time.

“Good, go back to your nap Danny. We’ll wake you up before we have to go back to class.” Sam laughed, definitely at him rather then with him, but Danny didn’t mind.

He flopped down with his head on Tucker’s lap, Tucker complained at him while Sam laughed, but he didn’t actually push Danny off. Danny knew he wouldn’t and settled down more comfortably to grab a power nap while his friends went back to their friendly competition over… whatever it was they were disagreeing about now.

They woke him up again before class, and decided to have their study session on Thursdays since Sam and Tucker both had clubs on Friday. Danny made it through the rest of the school day in better spirits, actually managing to take some notes in his other classes, whether or not he needed them. He tore out the page full of ghosts and threw it out before he went to meet the driver, and home.

He trained with Damian as soon as they got home, then showered and had a nap before dinner. He felt more like himself at the meal, and even Damian stopped giving him weird looks as the family chatted. Danny asked Tim about what he was working on, and then interrupted him smoothly when he looked like he was veering into something Alfred would see as business. Cass talked about her latest ballet too, and in general they all just sort of checked in on each other.

Danny opted out of going with them to the cave that day. He had an idea for forth collector and he was eager to finish them. Once he had he could set them up and catch up on sleep for a couple of days while they worked.

Sneaking out was never hard, he knew where all the cameras were placed intimately and how to avoid them. He changed into uniform and it was while he was going through the city proper that he felt eyes on him and realized he was being followed. Glancing around subtly he couldn’t help the immense relief when he saw it was Spoiler. She was just as talented as Damian, Cass, and Tim of course, but she was less likely to recognize him by his mannerisms, and there was no way she’d followed him all the way from the manner.

 It wasn’t that hard to lose her, but it meant that without a doubt the bats would know there was a new costumed player in Gotham by morning. They wouldn’t know anything about Hafit, but they would know he existed to look for him. He would have to be more careful.

He shook it off as he reached his lab alone and without being followed so that was all that mattered, he could finish his work. He’d be home before they knew Danny was missing, no harm done right?

He refused to allow any doubts, he was in way to deep for that anyway. He focused on his inventions, which was easy once he started, and since he already knew what he wanted to do it was quick work. He finished all his prototypes and checked them over for any potential faults before he set them up. He double triple checked they were running, they were fine, and they were NOT going to explode. Jason had been very patient with his work, but he didn’t think that would last if Danny caused damage and brought that much attention to crime alley.

Once he was as sure as he could be he put them all to go and headed home. He was asleep before the rest of the family got home.

[possessivedesires]

Red Zone

Yandere alpha monster x omega reader

It was told that no omegas should be sent to the other colonies. Especially not to the planets that are flagged as red zones… But yet, you were one stubborn omega.

Your family begged you to decline. You’d be the only omega among SIX alphas. One a planet where the last research team disappeared without a trace. Official reports said it was a Geological Collapse. But the whispered rumors of the screams before the signal cut out spoke a different story.

But you dreamt of this. Alien ecosystems, first contact, discovery! You studied your entire life to become a researcher. And so… You got on that ship.

The planet, it had no name. Just a code. X1-42. Dense jungles, swallowed light, and signals alike. It made your excitement explode, you couldn’t wait to explore. Almost vibrating in place, ignoring the way the hair on the back of your neck stood.

Something was watching you.

From day one, the alphas treated you like an after thought. Too delicate, too hormonal. One of them even crudely joked that you’d be the first thing that something would drag off into the darkness of forest.

But you kept to yourself, kept quiet; focused. Samples, sketches, notes. Documenting your awe. From the way that the vines pulsed when touched, the fungi that blinked, the way the petals of flowers seemed like they were moving. Everything felt alive.

Everything watched.

Then… it all came crashing down. Eyes that had been watching you no longer wanting to keep watching. The low, wet sound echoed lowly. A sound somewhere between a breath and a growl, the clicking sound barking lowly afterwards. Close, not close enough to be seen, but close enough TO see.

That night… The jungle didn’t sleep.

Something moved outside the perimeter. It alerted the monitors, triggered the invisible fence. All of you were looking around, flashlights shaking lightly in their hand. One of the alphas talked about the rumors being right- another snapped at him to shut up.

Bang!

The red light of the flare lit up the arc into the woods. Nothing screamed. Nothing ran. But something reflected. Liquid dripping, one of the alphas approached the dripping sound. His hand reaching out and catching it on his finger. Shining the flashlight, gleaming the crimson.

Blood…

A branch snapped, the deep clicking gruttal sound was heard. The flashlight jerking to the side as the alpha pointed his pistol toward the direction of the noise. His flashlight moving, seeing the clawed foot on the ground. The calves were huge, monstrous.

The light raised up the body, green scaled skin matched the forest. Claws too long and hanging by the side, throat moving lightly as the clicking sound was heard. An unnatural grin stretching widely across the face- the bone seeming to cover the rest of its face with no eyes to be seen. Spikes were jutting up from the back, the tri spiked tail swishing almost hypnotically.

The first scream came. Short. Gurgled. Then another. And another. And another. Blood, innards, and bones were easily thrown about. This monster… It was not hunting, it was killing.

You ran, the bioluminescent plants giving you just enough light not to run into some tree or rock. It seemed like you could still hear sickening crunches and splattering liquid. Your heart seemed to be jumped in his throat, tears blurring the light of the bioluminescence.

Finally, finding some roots in a giant tree. You struggled at first, forcing yourself in roots. Crawling and hiding yourself, hand covering your mouth tightly and trying to force yourself to stay quiet.

Something moved. The footstep hit the ground. Heavy. Low panting, claws nudging broken branches as the monster was crawling unnaturally on all fours. Like some kind of mocking of a humanoid animal.

A sound, like stone grinding bones… It crouched lower- sniffing. The air seemed to vibrate with a deep feeling, something you could feel in your bones and make your heart rate skyrocket. You trembled, hearing the roots beginning to creak as the monster pressed claws against the wood.

The monster leaned closer to your hiding spot, inhaling again. This time slower, savoring the sweet scent of the omega he was planning to take.

The rage was gone. Only recognition.

He found his omega.

You screamed as the roots suddenly got ripped apart. The bone helm pressing against you as the long tongue brushed along your skin- making you sob louder.

And NOTHING will get in the way of his omega.

:::

This was fun, do tell me if you guys would want more of this!

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Invisible String

Teen Wolf » Sterek

Title: Invisible String

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: In the aftermath of the nogitsune, Stiles takes up knitting at the suggestion of his therapist, and is surprised to find how much it helps him — and Derek — heal.

"Here's your hat," Stiles says with a half-hearted attempt at nonchalance, opting for playful banter in the hope that it'll ease some of the tension. "I would've finished it sooner, but some asshole snuck in through my window and scared me so bad I dropped half the stitches." He expects a smirk, a sarcastic quip, a long-suffering sigh followed by a theatrical eye-roll in response. What he doesn't expect is the vulnerable quiver in Derek's lower lip as he fixes Stiles with a stunned expression, eyebrows pulled together in a way that makes Stiles's heart physically clench inside his chest, and says, in the softest voice Stiles has ever heard, "You made this for me?" The following evening, Derek shows up wearing the hat Stiles made him, a tightly-wound ball of yarn and a set of knitting needles clutched in his hands as he tentatively holds them out to Stiles like a peace offering, and says, "Teach me?"

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In the aftermath of the whole possession by an ancient trickster demon thing, the one thing Stiles doesn't expect to hear from his in-the-know therapist is that he should consider taking up a hobby — something crafty and creative — to occupy his time. He does his best to suppress a snort of laughter but it's a near miss, insisting that he just doesn't have the patience for it. 

Just give it a try, she says, and that's how Stiles begrudgingly finds himself in front of his laptop, scrolling down a Buzzfeed list of the top ten crafts guaranteed to reduce stress and anxiety.

It goes about as well as he'd expected. 

His first (and last) attempt at baking nearly burns down the kitchen. 

Every surface of his bedroom turns into some kind of viral rainbow (no matter where he sits or what he touches, his hands, his hair, and the back of his jeans are always covered) as he proceeds to drip paint everywhere but the canvas. 

Origami ends in a mountain of the saddest looking swans the world has ever seen, crumpled up with varying octaves of frustrated sighs and volleyed into the trash bin with a fist pump and a victorious shout of score one, Stilinski! 

He can't draw for shit, even his stick figures have Scott and Lydia squinting like the worst game of Pictionary. 

He hasn't got a steady enough hand for calligraphy, and more often than not, the pen just ends up stuck between his teeth as he loses himself down a Sporcle rabbit hole. 

All of his short stories end up reading like police reports. 

He nearly impales his thumb on a needle when he tries out his mom's old sewing machine. 

His dad comes home one night with a barrage of complaints from the neighbors claiming there's a cult of angry cats terrorizing the neighborhood when Stiles attempts to learn how to play the cello.

He's about ready to give up when he turns the corner at the local craft store and ends up in an aisle filled with rows upon rows of brightly colored, plushy bundles of yarn. He glances at the display sample of a cozy looking hat, eyes darting to the bright blue wool-acrylic blend of thick, soft yarn right in front of him, and then back up toward the hat, wondering just how difficult it would be to make one of his own. Might be nice with the winter months coming up. 

He dithers for a moment before heaving a resigned sigh and grabbing a skein of the blue yarn, because blue is just pretty, and a set of knitting needles in the recommended size, and brings them up to the register, rationalizing that at least if this endeavor doesn't go well, all he'll be left with is tangled string, novelty chopsticks, and a wallet that's $11 lighter.

• • •

He picks it up surprisingly quickly. One week, a couple of YouTube tutorials, and a series of bookmarked Pinterest tabs detailing beginner projects, and he's already mastered garter, stockinette, and single rib stitch, and has about a dozen swatches scattered across his room. 

Even more surprising is how much he finds he genuinely enjoys it. Likes the fact that it keeps him calm, keeps him grounded. Gives his restless hands something to do, his racing mind something to focus on. Likes the fact that, once he gets the basic beginner stitches down, he can just zone out and get lost in the gentle clicking of the knitting needles, the rhythmic repetition of his hands working to create a new series of interlocking loops, a creative distraction to dive into whenever the guilt and panic of everything that's happened over the last couple of months threatens to overwhelm him.

His first official project is a bunny knit from a single stockinette square, seamed and stuffed with poly-fil, gifted to his therapist as a sort of thank you for pushing him to try something new.

• • •

He finds his gaze drifting toward Derek late one night at a pack meeting, mapping out and lingering over all the worrying little details of his body language — the tense line of his shoulders, eyebrows set in a semi-permanent crease, lips pulled into a pensive frown, fingertips digging into the underside of the worn wooden table hard enough to leave indents — and finds himself wondering if Derek has got any secret stress-reducing hobbies, if maybe he could benefit from having a creative outlet the same way Stiles has been.

He tries to imagine Derek taking up knitting, and has to fight to suppress the fond little flutter that stirs inside his chest at the image of Derek with a half-finished scarf splayed across his lap, yarn wrapped around his stupidly big, strong hands as he works them in an intricate pattern, the two of them sitting side by side on the couch, watching movies and working on projects together; has to bite back a bout of giddy laughter at the idea of Derek talking shop about his favorite stitch patterns, wandering down craft store aisles with a mountain of brightly colored, kitten soft skeins clutched in his arms, arguing the merits of aluminum vs. bamboo, cotton vs. wool, with those big surly eyebrows of his, as Stiles strolls along beside him. It's so absurdly soft and domestic that Stiles can't contain the longing sigh that spills out of his mouth at the thought of it.

Derek's eyes snap up in his direction, narrowing in equal parts curiosity and concern, and Stiles is so fucked because there's no way Derek hadn't heard the little stutter in his heartbeat just now, hadn't caught him staring, open-mouthed and shameless, with this stupid overly fond lovesick expression on his face, when he was supposed to be paying attention to Scott's detailed report of his recent perimeter patrols, and taking notes on the newest potential monster of the week he's apparently responsible for researching. 

And because his body is an absolute traitor, he can feel the telltale prickle of white hot heat creeping up the back of his neck and sprawling across his entire face like a goddamn sunburn, and oh god, there's no way Derek isn't piecing it all together, no way he isn't going to figure it out, no way Stiles will be able to keep his stupid little crush of his a secret if he keeps this up.

He attempts to salvage the moment with what he hopes is a friendly smile and a nonchalant nod, but judging by the way Derek's eyebrows hike high enough to get altitude sickness, it probably comes across as more of a flail and a manic grimace.

Which is just so great.

Yup. Fucking nailed it.

• • •

And yeah, it probably wouldn't help the whole pretending he's not secretly in love with a sourwolf thing if he were to randomly surprise Derek with a handmade knitted hat out of absolutely nowhere, but like — look — the color combination of that super soft merino wool featured every single fleck of Derek's eyes down to the exact shade, which is just…yeah. Super pretty. So like, he couldn't just not get it.

As is Stiles's luck, he can't even keep the hat itself a secret, because a few days after the pack meeting, Derek comes swooping in through his bedroom window while he's right in the middle of a round of decreases, causing him to shriek bloody murder and drop half a row of stitches in the process.

He makes a floundering attempt to shove the half-finished hat underneath his pillow, but of course, Derek's reflexes are faster (motherfucking werewolves) and he snags it out of Stiles's hands before he's even made it halfway across the room, staring down at it intently, running his fingers across the delicate little interlocking arrows, a flicker of a smile threatening to break across his face as he looks up and fixes Stiles with a curious expression.

"New hobby?" he asks, his tone uncharacteristically light, and Stiles prepares himself for the inevitable onslaught of derisive comments and mockery, because apparently he can't just have this one nice thing.

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles sighs with a weary roll of his eyes. "Make fun of me all you want, but we'll see who's laughing when I single-handedly defeat the next big bad with my killer dexterity and refined upper-body strength."

Derek's lips twist into a frown, brows creasing in frustration.

"I'm not making fun of you," he says solemnly, all traces of lighthearted banter vanishing as he takes a tentative step forward and places the set of circular needles into Stiles's hands with a measurable gentleness.

"Oh," Stiles says softly, all defensiveness rushing out of him on the next breath, awed by the fact that Derek looks genuinely offended by the assumption that he would tease Stiles over something like this. "Okay, well…good. Because I'm actually really liking learning how to knit so far."

He holds Derek's gaze long enough to catch a thoughtful hum in response, and then he's stumbling backward into his rolly chair with all the grace of a mountain troll, breathing out a nerve-addled huff as he refocuses his attention on the project clutched in his hands. 

There's a soft creak of leather and bedsprings as Derek perches on the edge of Stiles's bed, watching with rapt interest as Stiles sets to work fixing the dropped stitches, mesmerized by the subtle flex of his forearms, the delicate twist of his long, nimble fingers as Stiles slips the little stitch marker from one needle to the other to start a new row. 

They sink into a companionable silence, the only sound the gentle click of the knitting needles, the steady rise and fall of his focused, meditative breathing, peppered with the occasional murmured mantra of knit one, purl one as Stiles sticks his tongue between his teeth, brow furrowed in concentration as he deciphers what type of stitch he's supposed to make next.

"So, what made you decide to take up knitting?" Derek's voice rings out across the room, head tilted to the side as Stiles produces a thick blunt-tipped needle and begins threading the working yarn through the last few live stitches of the crown.

"Well," Stiles sighs, tension coiling in his shoulders as he struggles to split his concentration. Because this is the most crucial part. Mess this part up and the whole thing unravels. "It started out as a suggestion from my therapist, actually. She figured I needed something— some nice, simple, normal thing — to occupy my time, help take my mind off things…something that isn't just endless research and round-the-clock panic attacks over the supernatural nightmare my life has become ever since—"

There's a sharp intake of breath and a soft, barely audible noise like a wounded animal, and Stiles glances up to find Derek staring a hard line into the floor, looking crestfallen.

"Hey," Stiles says consolingly, offering Derek an apologetic smile, and quickly amending. "Present company excluded, of course."

Derek huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders eases considerably.

"So I tried out a bunch of stuff, which I totally sucked at, by the way," Stiles continues, pulling the working yarn taut to close the opening at the top of the hat. "Everything from baking, to painting, to sewing, to trying to learn how to play an instrument — Dad practically had to beg me to return the cello I rented out from the school — before I just kind of accidentally stumbled across knitting…which, it turns out, I'm actually pretty good at."

"I like it," Stiles adds after a moment's pause. "I like that it's both relaxing and productive. I like working with my hands, being able to make things."

"I like…" he trails off, throat suddenly tight as he fights off the familiar sting in the corners of his eyes. "I like the fact that, after everything that's happened, I still have the ability to create beautiful things."

His fingers tremble as he works to weave the yarn tail through the last column of stitches, and he has to pause to catch his breath. He chances a glance over at Derek, and is struck with a low swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach at the sight of him staring down at his open palms with an intense expression on his face, so achingly familiar that Stiles knows, without a shadow of a doubt, what he must be thinking in that moment — that the two of them share something no one else in the pack will ever truly be able to understand— that every time they look down at their own hands, they're seeing the same thing: the sharp skewer of a set of claws; the slow twist of a sword; phantom blood clinging to such delicate things made into weapons against their will.

The finished hat lands in Derek's hands a minute later, effectively snapping him out of his downward spiral. He blinks down at it a few times, looking utterly bewildered, before his gaze flickers back up toward Stiles, eyebrows arched in question.

"Here's your hat," Stiles says with a half-hearted attempt at nonchalance, opting for playful banter in the hope that it'll ease some of the tension. "I would've finished it sooner, but some asshole snuck in through my window and scared me so bad I dropped half the stitches."

He expects a smirk, a sarcastic quip, a long-suffering sigh followed by a theatrical eye-roll in response. What he doesn't expect is the vulnerable quiver in Derek's lower lip as he fixes Stiles with a stunned expression, eyebrows pulled together in a way that makes Stiles's heart physically clench inside his chest, and says, in the softest voice Stiles has ever heard, "You made this for me?"

"Well, yeah," Stiles says as he ducks his head to attack a phantom itch on the back of his neck, heat rising in the hollows of his cheekbones. "It — you know — it matches your eyes, or whatever."

Derek stares at him for a moment longer before his gaze drifts back down to the little hat woven with all the colors of the forest, cradling it in his hands like it's the most precious thing in the world.

• • •

The following evening, Derek shows up wearing the hat Stiles made him, a tightly-wound ball of yarn and a set of knitting needles clutched in his hands as he tentatively holds them out to Stiles like a peace offering, and says, "Teach me?"

And yeah, maybe Stiles's heart does that same little flutter on a much grander scale when, several months down the line, the two of them exchange Christmas gifts, only to realize they've knitted each other matching scarves.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Hiii! I hope I'm not late for the hc party.

I hc that Ford has tried a looot of different nsfw unholy things with his partner. It took a bit to get there and a lot of reassurances and consent discussions ofc!

I hc he would've tried hypnotism and medical fet. But dunno if he'd go forward with the former with his past- maybe trying it once. I am just a sucker for his velvety smooth voice holy shit I'd do anything for this old man-

But what do you think?

hi!! no ur not late dont worry!! first of all, i love Ford’s voice too. i would melt into a fucking puddle if he praised me. “you’re doing so well, darling” id cry and physically shut down. you would have to scrape me off the floor. j.k. simmons was such a correct choice.

nsfw stuff under the cut

i also think you’re spot on about the hypnotism, maybe he’d be into it or at least deeply curious, but the implications would hit him mid-scene and he’d stop bc he’s too self-aware. he needs to know you’re with him the whole time, fully present. Ford would only do it if you begged, like seriously begged. he’d be scared shitless the whole time but would still try for you. aftercare would be INTENSE. he’s checking in every ten seconds. “are you okay? are you really okay?” he’s cupping your face, looking at your pupils

he’d only go through with it once, maybe twice, because it fucks him up too much

and medical kink??? he’s totally the kind of man who would pull on gloves and inspect you like you’re a specimen and a miracle at the same time.. explaining ur own anatomy back to u while softly saying, “is this alright?” as he touches you. holding your hips down while noting your pulse. analysing you mid-moan.

and listen, i don’t even know if this counts as medical kink, but you know he’s journaling about it after. the sex, your reactions, the exact way you tasted, what your body did at certain times. your pH levels, maybe.... LMAO. but like he’d absolutely do that

also the gloves, i need him to wear them. snapping them on like it’s just procedure. brushing his knuckles across your stomach to see how your muscles react. i promise, there will be many phrases as “you’re so responsive” or “fascinating. i wonder if that’s neural or psychological…”

no, wait

imagine him checking your heart rate with two fingers to your neck

“tell me if it gets too intense. i want your full consent, not just compliance.”

probably pulls out a sterile metal tray with tools. a stethoscope. thermometer. gloves. lube. “just a standard preliminary exam,” he says while you’re already squirming

and and and..... “can i insert something for observation?” he says this while adjusting his glasses... how did i even come up with that

“you're flushed. elevated respiration. dilated pupils. how are you feeling, sweetheart?”

he'd do a “follow my finger” test to watch your eyes while you're dizzy from edging

he’d have a vibrator with adjustable intensity levels and graph it against your response time

“you’re being so good. now lie still for the procedure”

HE HOLDS YOUR WRIST TO CHECK YOUR PULSE WHILE HE’S INSIDE YOU. “i want to feel what i do to you. right here”

“may i collect a sample?”

anyway. this is your fault thank you!! i want to be Ford’s favourite experiment but in like a romantic and fucked up way. “my hypothesis is that you’re the most beautiful creature i’ve ever seen” he says this while fingering you in latex gloves

[byulyi]

Love In My Arms

Agatha All Along Week: Day 7 - Breeding

Summary: "Something on your mind, handsome?” Rio asks her eventually, probably noticing Agatha’s somewhat restless energy. “I’ve been daydreaming a little. About us.” Rating: Explicit Pairing: Agatha Harkness & Rio Vidal

Content: daddy kink, ejaculating strap, breeding kink (duh)

@agathaallalongweek I am exceptionally late with this but oh well.

An ache begins to form in Agatha’s heart.

It’s subtle at first: the constant need to keep Rio close, to hold her, to provide for her becoming stronger than ever.

She understands it when she finds Rio in the kitchen one day, singing along to the music she was listening to while making bread for the station's barbecue in the evening. It’s a hot day and Rio is wearing the prettiest summer dress, her hair up in a messy bun and no shoes on her feet.

Agatha loved the way Rio shifted so fluidly between her feminine and masculine side, simply taking each day as it was without overthinking it. Thanks to Rio Agatha had become kinder with herself as well. She wasn’t close to something she would call self-love but she respected herself and felt comfortable in her own skin more often than not these days – and how couldn’t she when Rio always loved her so fiercely, so complete with everything she was.

Her hands she often found too rough, had been kissed tenderly, held protectively and were often Rio’s way to ground herself during bad days.

Her shoulders that had been called too broad had carried Rio after long nights out, worked to build her raised beds for all the herbs she liked to grow and flexed beneath Rio’s nails digging into her skin as she unraveled her again and again.

Her breasts she sometimes tried to hide because she thought she had to in order to fit the way she presented herself were kissed and touched lovingly after days of binding and complimented on when she spent especially hot summer days at home shirtless.

Rio loved all of her and she loved all of Rio. Unconditional love. Something they both dreamed of in their youth but never imagined to be actually possible. Both had grown up with families that took and pushed without stopping to think about what their children needed. Boundaries were unheard of and acting up was punished or shrugged off. They were luckily past these people now – a lone sign of their existence being at most an unread Christmas card in the mail.

They had each other. They were a family.

And now Agatha was still standing in the doorway of the kitchen and her heart keeps on growing. Her feet carry her over to Rio and she doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around her from behind. She kisses her neck and breathes in the fresh scent of her shampoo.

“You’ve been standing there for a while,” Rio notes, a playful undertone in her voice. Ever the observant FBI agent. “Did you like what you see?”

“Very much so.” She rests her chin on Rio’s shoulder; her own boots and Rio being barefoot granting her a height advantage she usually didn’t have. “You’re breathtakingly beautiful, my love.”

Rio laughs in delight. “Want to try some of the sample bread? I’ve kept it in the oven to keep it warm.”

“A sample bread. You really won’t leave anything to chance.” Agatha kisses her shoulder then and let’s go of her before moving to the oven. “The whole house smells delicious,” she says as she pulls out the tray.

“It’s the rosemary. Gives it a little kick.”

When Agatha had tried the bread and moaned a little bit exaggerated at the taste, she hops onto a part of the kitchen counter Rio wasn’t using and watches her working for a while.

“Something on your mind, handsome?” Rio asks her eventually, probably noticing Agatha’s somewhat restless energy.

“I’ve been daydreaming a little. About us.”

“Nice things I hope?”

“It’s about what we’ve talked about a while ago. When I wasn’t sure yet. I… I think I am now.”

Rio tilts her head a little, obviously doing some mind gymnastics in search of needed context, before it clicks and her eyes widen, head turning to her girlfriend.

“You want to have a child?”

Agatha nods carefully, with both happiness and fear. “Yes. I think we would do a great job at being parents and…” she has to smile a little as she thinks about it. “Honestly I think that’s it. We would love our child and do our best for them. It doesn’t need more reason. I just want a child with you. Share our love.”

Rio pulls her in for a kiss so fast that she almost falls forward.

Agatha can’t keep her hands to herself for the rest of the day. She spends the entirety of the barbecue hovering around Rio and fussing over her, so much so that Rio eventually snaps at her and bans her from coming near her for at least twenty minutes.

Figurative tail between her legs Agatha trails off to the small circle of her colleagues surrounding the grill and the chief hands her a beer while another detective looks at her with sympathy.

“Feeling some extra TLC today, Harkness?” she asks and laughs when Agatha glares at her. “What? You’re the definition of ‘look at my wife, I love my wife’.”

“She’s not even my wife,” Agatha grumbles.

“Yet,” the chief chimes in.

“Will you mind your own business?”

“I’m just saying.”

Agatha sighs and throws Rio the saddest look she can muster. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work and somehow she manages the entire terrible twenty minutes of separation.

A few days later Agatha corners Rio the second they get home from work. They have a long weekend ahead, courtesy of Agatha bullying the chief, and she has every intention of making each hour count.

She’s holding Rio from behind and kisses her neck a few times before asking the question that had been burning on her mind since the day of the barbecue.

“Should we start trying?”

“Someone’s eager,” Rio says amused but she sighs when Agatha’s lip find one of her favorite spots.

“We didn’t have time all week,” Agatha notes and pulls Rio’s hips against her crotch, the bulge of her packer pressing against her ass. “I’ve become impatient.”

Rio gasps softly. “Agatha…”

“Do you feel me, babe?”

Rio nods, grinding back on her own accord now. Agatha groans and tightens her hold on her.

“I want to take my time with you. I want to undress you, I want to eat you out,” she mumbles into her ear, her hands moving up Rio’s waist. “And when I made you come so good that you’re shaking and begging for me I want to take my cock and fuck you. Slow and deep.” She moves her lips slightly, giving Rio the smallest idea of what was to come. “I am going to breed you tonight. I am going to fill you up until my cum leaks out of you. And when that happens I am going to fuck it right back into you where it belongs to make sure that it sticks.”

Agatha works absurdly fast as they get to the bedroom, grabbing a harness and the brand-new squirting dildo she had bought before digging further into the drawer to find the bottle with the cum-colored lube.

Rio watches her, equally turned on and enamored with her girlfriend, but before she can comment something Agatha kisses her in a way that almost makes her knees buckle and asks her to wait for a moment.

She goes into the bathroom, takes all clothes except her boxers off and fumbles the packer out of its pouch before stepping into the harness and fastening it. Her hands shake a little in excitement as she fills the syringe connected to the toy but once everything is in the right place she feels the weight of what the evening would entail settle right back into her mind. This wasn’t just one of their little games, it was the pledge to a step they would be taking together in the future.

The day before they made the decision to wait until next summer, when Rio would find out if the FBI would finally make her position at the Westview police station a permanent one after four years and then they would look into both adoption and IVF. It was exciting – it made Agatha lightheaded.

Now however she rushes back to Rio.

Agatha undresses her slowly, kisses and touches every inch of skin exposed, tells her how beautiful she is and that she can never get enough of her. When she sinks between her thighs Rio is wet and aching for her. She sighs Agatha’s name in the prettiest way when she comes and they spend minutes with making out after before Agatha pulls away again.

“Bend over. I want to see you.”

She’s kneeling behind Rio, teasing her folds with the tip of her strap before sliding the tip into her – just enough to stretch her a little.

“Agatha… fuck me

“Try again.”

“Please. Please fuck me. I need you. Need your cock.”

Now pleased Agatha proceeds, setting a slow pace to help Rio with adjusting to her.

It’s minutes of this until Rio whines for her to go faster, to go harder.

“You should see how pretty your pussy looks when you take me,” Agatha says with a gasp, her eyes fixed on the silicon shaft – shiny with Rio. “So fucking tight, clenching around my cock. I am going to cum in you soon, fill you up.”

“You’re going to make me a mommy, aren’t you, daddy?”

Something inside of Agatha’s brain detonates and she grunts through gritted teeth as she switches to a brutal pace with her thrusts. “Fuck – yes baby. You’re going to be growing our child in no time. I’ll keep you bred properly until we know for sure. Daddy can’t wait to see your belly swell, the way your pretty tits will grow. Everyone will know that you are mine.”

Rio topples over, followed by Agatha who slides a hand between Rio’s legs so she could touch her clit.

“Fuck, daddy-“ Rio whines beneath her. Agatha can see her white knuckles as she clings to the sheets.

“You’re taking me so well, baby, do you think you’re ready for my cum?”

“Yes, I want it – need you…to breed me.”

Agatha, almost beside herself from lust, reaches for the syringe snuck between the waistband of her boxers and her skin and pushes her thumb down while thrusting hard into Rio one more time – staying still as the cum spills into her.

It takes only a few more fast circles rubbed against her clit for Rio to come with a cry of Agatha’s name, her body trying to thrash around but Agatha presses her down with her own weight, keeping her pinned in place between herself and the mattress.

“Stop moving and take it,” she growls into her ear. “Take. My. Cum.” She accentuates each word with a sharp snap of her hips.

“It’s too much, daddy…” Rio mewls but presses her ass back against Agatha to keep her right where she was as she rides out her orgasm.

“Oh, is it?” Agatha tuts and pulls almost completely out of Rio’s stretched out cunt which has her whine even louder. “Do you want me to stop?”

Rio shakes her head. “No.”

“Good girl. Now, get on your back.”

When Rio doesn’t move on her own Agatha turns her around, a little concerned about her until she sees the wide and blissful smile on her face.

“Are you too fucked out to move?” She asks and laughs when Rio nods. “Speaking is also not possible?”

“I am perfectly content right now, shh. Don’t disrupt the vibe.”

“Gods, you are so adorable,” Agatha sighs and leans down to kiss her deep and slow. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

The tension builds again slowly, their hands moving lazy while their mouths meet in loving kisses. When Rio reaches between them and grabs the toy Agatha smiles against her lips.

“Back inside,” she orders and Agatha follows suit. She slides into her with no resistance; the lube and Rio’s cum making it perfectly smooth. “you wanted to fuck your cum back into me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Agatha jokes and stills for a moment when she’s fully buried inside of Rio again. They hold eye contact as Rio begins to move her hips, fucking herself with Agatha’s cock.

“So greedy,” Agatha groans. “Making sure not to waste a single drop of my cum. What a good girl you are for me.”

Rio’s movements soon falter until she stops with a pitiful whine. Agatha feels her thighs shaking – sees the way her chest rises and falls fast. She’s sweaty, she’s flushed – a beautiful mess just for Agatha to enjoy.

“Exhausted from coming twice already, hm?” Agatha leans forward, supporting herself with her hands positioned next to Rio’s arms. “Do you want daddy to help you, pretty girl? I can feel you clenching around my cock.” She pulls out slowly, before harshly thrusting back into her.

“Yes, please please, fuck me, daddy,” Rio sobs and grabs Agatha’s wrists.

She lasts barely a minute this time – overstimulated and still so hungry for more that it doesn’t take much from Agatha. A few thrusts, a little twist of her hips and Rio is seeing stars.

“Shit,” Agatha curses and lies down next to Rio, still half draped over her body.

“Yup, I’d be definitely knocked up now if this was legit cum.” Rio nods in thought as she looks down between her legs where a rather impressive puddle had built up.

Agatha laughs and kisses Rio’s neck. “A little bit of practice can’t hurt, right? Wanna go take a bath?”

“If you carry me.”

“Aw. Pretty princess needs to be carried.” She teases but Rio doesn’t let it get to her.

“Yes, she does.”

Rio gets into the water first and sighs pleased when the warm water surrounds her slightly aching limbs. She smacks Agatha’s ass when she steps into the bathtub as well and giggles at the offended look she gets in return.

“You are such a little shit,” she remarks before settling between Rio’s legs and leaning back against her chest.

“You love me.”

“I do.”

“That was really fun,” Rio hums after they’ve been enjoying the warm water and the skin-on-skin contact in silence for a while. “And really hot. Next time it’s your turn though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one with mad breeding skills.”

Agatha sighs. “Has this become a competition now?”

“If I actually do get you pregnant I win.”

“If you get me pregnant I won’t even ask questions and just roll with it.”

“Because it would be some sort of miracle?”

“Because I love you and want your child.”

Agatha hears Rio’s sharp intake of air and just when she’s about to ask what’s wrong Rio wraps her arms and legs around her and pulls her in with such a force that Agatha shrieks in surprise – embarrassingly high-pitched.

“What the hell?”

“We are going to have a kid. You and me.” Rio says, completely in awe and Agatha hears her voice tremble a little which in turn drives some tears into her own eyes.

“Yes.”

“We are going to be great parents. I’ll be the cool dad and you’ll be the lame dad.”

“Excuse me? Why am I lame?”

“The Birkenstocks with the white socks…”

“Oh, you little shit.”

Agatha frees herself from Rio’s grip and stands up. She glares down at her but Rio seems to be more occupied with Agatha’s wet and naked body in front of her than her faux anger.

It’s silent for a moment until Agatha decides that Rio had done enough staring. She climbs out of the bathtub and wraps a towel around her waist after drying herself off haphazardly.

“Come back in here and let me fumble you.”

“I have a better idea. You apologize on your knees for calling me lame and I’ll let you eat me out.

With that Agatha turns around and marches back into the bedroom.

She is followed by the sound of water splashing and a few curse words as Rio hurries after her.