#High pressure sensor

[dvid2van]

https://www.futureelectronics.com/p/semiconductors--analog--sensors--pressure/bmp388-bosch-sensortec-1097861

High pressure sensor, low pressure sensor, Water pressure sensors

BMP388 Series 125 kPa 3.6 V Digital Barometric Pressure Sensor

[highondrive]

How to Maintain and Enhance Your Car’s Aesthetic Appeal

Your car is more than just a mode of transportation—it’s a reflection of your personality and lifestyle. Whether you’re driving a brand-new vehicle or a beloved older model, proper maintenance and the right accessories can keep your car looking stylish and pristine for years. In this blog, we’ll share expert tips on maintaining and upgrading your car’s appearance.

[gene2riinn]

https://www.futureelectronics.com/p/semiconductors--analog--sensors--humidity-dew/sht40i-hd1b-r2-sensirion-1187273

Moisture sensors, high pressure humidity sensor, Temperature Measuring Module

SHT41I-AD1B-R2

[trivn2vess]

https://www.futureelectronics.com/p/semiconductors--analog--sensors--humidity-dew/sht21-tr-0-4ks-sensirion-5049816

Dew point sensor, high pressure humidity sensor, data logger, soil moisture

SHT21 Series 3 V -40 to +125 °C Digital Humidity & Temperature Sensor IC - DFN-6

[eliteglobalsales]

Shop classic bathroom faucet designs at Elite Global Sales

Elite Global Sales offers classic bathroom faucet designs that will provide your bathroom with a timeless look. Whether you want to create a sophisticated, vintage-inspired style or add a touch of subtle beauty to your house, our selection of classic faucets has something for everyone. Contact us immediately!

[tmiinst]

Pressure Transmitter TPS.01, Thin-Film-On-Steel Technology, China High Quality Manufacturer

Suzhou TMI Instruments Co., Ltd https://tmiinstruments.com Tel: +86-400-168-1736

Email: info@tmiinstruments.com

Product Name: Pressure Transmitter TPS.01 Measuring Principle: Thin-film-on-steel Measuring range: 0~0.5MPa…250MPa Accuracy: ±0.5%FS( ±0.25%FS Optional) Long term stability: ≤0.1% FS/year

Electrical connection: Hirschmann (EN17530-803 Form C)

TMI INSTRUMENTS, founded in 2022, has an international elite team and advanced technology, with rich experiences in areas of pressure and temperature instruments and sensors. TMIINST proactively introduces global leading technology and management methods to ensure that our products have high-quality , high-precision and long-term stability to be committed to providing customers with the most reliable and safe solutions.

The TPS series pressure transmitter has extremely robust structure and stable sensor with sputtering thin-film-on-steel technology, as a result, they have proven themselves in a multitude of demanding applications in harsh environment. Superior precise manufacturing ensure the transmitters work perfectly, especially in areas where high requirements are placed on long-term stability, vibration resistance, electromagnetic compatibility, shock resistance or temperature insensitivity, measuring range from 0 ~ 5bar … 2,500bar [ 0 ~ 100psi … 36,000psi ].

[nasa]

What We Learned from Flying a Helicopter on Mars

The Ingenuity Mars Helicopter made history – not only as the first aircraft to perform powered, controlled flight on another world – but also for exceeding expectations, pushing the limits, and setting the stage for future NASA aerial exploration of other worlds.

Built as a technology demonstration designed to perform up to five experimental test flights over 30 days, Ingenuity performed flight operations from the Martian surface for almost three years. The helicopter ended its mission on Jan. 25, 2024, after sustaining damage to its rotor blades during its 72nd flight.

So, what did we learn from this small but mighty helicopter?

We can fly rotorcraft in the thin atmosphere of other planets.

Ingenuity proved that powered, controlled flight is possible on other worlds when it took to the Martian skies for the first time on April 19, 2021.

Flying on planets like Mars is no easy feat: The Red Planet has a significantly lower gravity – one-third that of Earth’s – and an extremely thin atmosphere, with only 1% the pressure at the surface compared to our planet. This means there are relatively few air molecules with which Ingenuity’s two 4-foot-wide (1.2-meter-wide) rotor blades can interact to achieve flight.

Ingenuity performed several flights dedicated to understanding key aerodynamic effects and how they interact with the structure and control system of the helicopter, providing us with a treasure-trove of data on how aircraft fly in the Martian atmosphere.

Now, we can use this knowledge to directly improve performance and reduce risk on future planetary aerial vehicles.

Creative solutions and “ingenuity” kept the helicopter flying longer than expected.

Over an extended mission that lasted for almost 1,000 Martian days (more than 33 times longer than originally planned), Ingenuity was upgraded with the ability to autonomously choose landing sites in treacherous terrain, dealt with a dead sensor, dusted itself off after dust storms, operated from 48 different airfields, performed three emergency landings, and survived a frigid Martian winter.

Fun fact: To keep costs low, the helicopter contained many off-the-shelf-commercial parts from the smartphone industry - parts that had never been tested in deep space. Those parts also surpassed expectations, proving durable throughout Ingenuity’s extended mission, and can inform future budget-conscious hardware solutions.

There is value in adding an aerial dimension to interplanetary surface missions.

Ingenuity traveled to Mars on the belly of the Perseverance rover, which served as the communications relay for Ingenuity and, therefore, was its constant companion. The helicopter also proved itself a helpful scout to the rover.

After its initial five flights in 2021, Ingenuity transitioned to an “operations demonstration,” serving as Perseverance’s eyes in the sky as it scouted science targets, potential rover routes, and inaccessible features, while also capturing stereo images for digital elevation maps.

Airborne assets like Ingenuity unlock a new dimension of exploration on Mars that we did not yet have – providing more pixels per meter of resolution for imaging than an orbiter and exploring locations a rover cannot reach.

Tech demos can pay off big time.

Ingenuity was flown as a technology demonstration payload on the Mars 2020 mission, and was a high risk, high reward, low-cost endeavor that paid off big. The data collected by the helicopter will be analyzed for years to come and will benefit future Mars and other planetary missions.

Just as the Sojourner rover led to the MER-class (Spirit and Opportunity) rovers, and the MSL-class (Curiosity and Perseverance) rovers, the team believes Ingenuity’s success will lead to future fleets of aircraft at Mars.

In general, NASA’s Technology Demonstration Missions test and advance new technologies, and then transition those capabilities to NASA missions, industry, and other government agencies. Chosen technologies are thoroughly ground- and flight-tested in relevant operating environments — reducing risks to future flight missions, gaining operational heritage and continuing NASA’s long history as a technological leader.

You can fall in love with robots on another planet.

Following in the tracks of beloved Martian rovers, the Ingenuity Mars Helicopter built up a worldwide fanbase. The Ingenuity team and public awaited every single flight with anticipation, awe, humor, and hope.

Check out #ThanksIngenuity on social media to see what’s been said about the helicopter’s accomplishments.

Learn more about Ingenuity’s accomplishments here. And make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[luvnoirs]

WICKED GAMES

paring: paige x black fem!reader synopsis: after being drafted number one pick, paige is under pressure to prove herself and save a failing relationship. then, she sees you. warning(s): fingering (r!receiving), spit play, cunnilingus (r!receiving) and (p!receiving), face riding, overstimulation, squirting word count: 4.4k

a/n: i started writing this after i watched sinners if you couldn’t tell

PART ONE | PART TWO

paige didn't touch you again for the rest of the ride. it felt like she was actually trying to drive you insane.

your thighs were still squeezed together when she pulled into a private garage that was tucked underneath a high-rise apartment. she rolled her window down to tap a key fob against a sensor, and smoothly driving through once the gate opened for her. she parked near the elevator and turned off the engine.

she seemed calm. patient.

like she didn't just have you on the brink of an orgasm with just two fingers.

your head was spinning as you thought back to just exactly how you ended up in this situation tonight. when you first found her looking at you like you were the only woman in the room, to her following you to the bar and undressing you with just her eyes alone. you blinked, watching as she got out and circled around to your door, opening it.

everything was quiet, surprisingly. just your heels echoing sharply against the pavement as you stepped out and followed behind the blonde to the elevator. it wasn't until you stepped inside that it hit you. it was the first time tonight that you guys were truly alone. no other people. no music. no crowd.

just you and her.

she leaned against the elevator wall on the opposite side as it ascended. your eyes dragged over her slowly, her lips, the chain that decorated her neck, her tight crop top that exposed her abs, her veiny hands that were clasped together in front of her.

you wondered how her lips would feel—pressed to yours, dragging down your neck, buried between your thighs. how that cold gold chain would feel pressed against your cheek, against your chest. how her abs would tense beneath your tongue. how three of her fingers would feel inside of you instead of two.

you looked back up to find her watching you.

she wasn't smiling. didn't have that stupid smirk on her face. it was like you were back in the club with her in the next section over, yet this time the tension was stronger.

you wanted her. badly.

you took a step towards her, and another. you didn't stop until you were inches away, close enough to wrap your arms around her neck.

she let out a breath. "once these doors open, ain't no going back."

"shut up and kiss me."

the elevator door dinged.

her hand gripped your jaw, much firmer this time, and pulled your mouth to hers like it was magnetic.

nothing was gentle.

your lips crashed against hers in a messy kiss. she pressed into you, hips flush, hands instantly dragging down your sides like she couldn’t figure out what part of you she wanted to grab first.

your head was spinning. you barely registered anything, only that she was already walking you backwards, still kissing you like she was starving. her grip stayed tight, one hand wrapped around your waist, the other grabbing a fistful of your ass as she walked you out of the elevator like she owned your body now.

you stumbled, nearly losing your balance on your heels, but her grip on you didn’t loosen.

“i got you,” she mumbled against your lips, her teeth dragging your bottom lip before biting down, hard enough to make you shiver.

you weren’t even sure where you were anymore— somewhere between the entrance and losing your mind— but your back hit a cold wall, your hands clinging around paige’s neck like she was the only thing keeping you upright.

all you could do was moan breathlessly against her lips. the same hot ache from the car crept back up in the pit of your stomach, but worse now. ten times as needy.

her tongue slipped past your lips, licking into you slowly. your hands dragged down the length of her arms until they found the collar of her jacket. you tugged impatiently, needing less between you.

without missing a beat, paige shrugged it off without breaking the kiss.

your palms landed flat on her stomach, pressing against smooth, firm skin, your fingers splaying over her abs. her body tensed beneath your touch.

you slightly pulled back, panting, lips swollen, a burn in your lungs from the lack of oxygen. a thin string of spit hung between your mouths, stretching then snapping as you licked your lips.

paige looked wrecked in the prettiest way.

her blue eyes low. lips wet. chest rising slow.

“i’ve been thinking about this since the bar,” she whispered against your lips, dragging her hand under the cup of your ass, squeezing hard. “how badly you wanted me to fuck you but still tried to play it cute.”

you let out a breath that caught halfway.

“i did n—"

“don’t lie to me,” she cut in, her hand cupping your pussy through your panties, palm pressing hard. “you’re still dripping, mama.”

she was right.

your knees buckled slightly, a quiet gasp escaping your throat before you could catch it.

you knew she could feel it. the shake in your thighs, the way your breath hitched, the way your hips rolled forward into her touch.

she leaned forward, her mouth brushing against the shell of your ear.

“you feel that shit?” she whispered, pressing her palm firmer against your center, her thumb sliding in slow, deliberate circles over the soaked fabric.

you whimpered in response. your hand clutched her bicep for balance, nails digging into her skin, your other hand balling into the fabric of her shirt. her tongue licked over your ear lobe, warm and soft.

“i could make you cum just like this,” she murmured, using her knee to spread your legs even further. “right here. up against this wall. panties still on. my fingers rubbing on this pretty pussy.”

your head tipped back against the wall with a soft thud, breath stuttering as her teeth grazed your earlobe, not hard enough for discomfort but enough to send another wave of pleasure between your legs.

you groaned, hand sliding up to her face to grip her jaw, thumb brushing the edge of her bottom lip. you pulled her back in front of you, eyes locked.

“paige, i need your mouth,” you pleaded as her thumb still rubbed dangerously slow.

her lips parted slightly, tongue swiping across the bottom one like she could still taste you from earlier.

“where?” she asked, like she wanted to hear you say it just to break you down with it.

you huffed, jaw clenched. “don’t be a fucking dick.”

paige bit back a grin, the corner of her mouth twitching, but she didn’t argue.

instead she slipped both hands under your dress, palms dragging up your thighs until her fingers hooked the thin string of your thong.

she tugged it down slowly, watching the fabric peel off your skin like a reward she earned. you didn’t breathe until she dropped to her knees in front of you.

“this what you want?” she murmured, staring up at you, eyes locked as your panties pooled at your ankles.

she helped you step out, even reached to slide your heels off your feet, tossing them to the side like it was nothing.

"i think you want this more than me." you said, voice still shaky, but clear.

she just stayed there— on her knees, her hands sliding up your bare calves, thumbs brushing along the backs of your thighs. her eyes never left yours.

"you might be right," paige said as her hand gripped your thigh and hiked your leg over her shoulder, fingers bunching the fabric of your dress high on your hips. her mouth was just inches away, her breath hot against your skin. "you want me to prove it?"

she didn’t wait for your answer— just pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh.

then another, closer to your cunt. soft and teasing, grazing her teeth against your skin.

your hands dove into her hair, fingers tangled in the bun at the back of her head as you tugged hard, trying to pull her mouth where it mattered.

“fuck me,” you gritted your teeth, “or on my life i’m leaving and slashing your tires on the way out.”

paige’s eyes flicked up, filled with half-amusement and half-lust.

“so dramatic,” she murmured, lips brushing your inner thigh again. “you coulda just said please.”

but she complied.

without another word, she gripped your ass with both hands, pulled your hips closer to her face, and devoured you. she used her tongue, dragging it through your folds deliberately slow, then flattened it against your clit.

"fuck!" you cried out, loudly.

your back arched against the wall, hands gripping her head, pulling her deeper. she groaned into your pussy, deep and guttural, sending vibrations through your core as her tongue circled your clit with filthy precision.

then she sucked.

your knees buckled. you nearly collapsed on her, leg shaking around her shoulder, hips jerking into her mouth like your body was acting on instinct alone. she held you still. moving one hand around your thigh, the other pressing against your stomach to keep you from running.

"you taste so good, baby," she rasped against your pussy.

you barely had time to breathe before her lips were back on you, latching onto your clit. the one hand that she had on your thigh traveled down between your legs. she used two fingers to spread apart your folds, running her tongue from your hole to your clitoral hood, lapping up all the juices you gushed out for her.

she slowed her pace just a bit, tracing every crevice with her tongue before returning back to your swollen clit. she alternated between flicking her tongue and licking over your bud, shaking her head slightly, making you dig your fingers even further into her hair, pushing her face deeper.

"oh my god, paige-" you gasped, the rest of your words getting caught in a high pitched moan.

maybe it was the overwhelming tension that had been building between you two all night, or the fact that she had been edging you for the past twenty minutes, but you swear nothing has ever felt this good.

you didn’t know how your legs were still holding you up. your knees were jelly. your thighs were twitching. your head kept falling back against the wall, unable to stay still.

you haven't even known her for half a day, yet she's fucking you like she's known you for years. her fingers curled inside you at a rhythmic pace, hitting your spot so precisely. over and over again.

your back arches off the wall, riding her face, hard and messy. your hand flew to your chest, tugging your dress down without a second thought. your breasts spilled free into the cool air, nipples already hard. you grabbed at one, squeezing, rolling your fingers over it until you moaned again, louder this time.

"don't stop," you were barely coherent. each word and moan that came from your mouth was closer and closer to sounding like a sob.

paige hummed again against your cunt. her lips created a tight suction around your puffy clit, using her tongue to flick erratically.

and just like that, your body jerks.

the pressure that had been coiled in your gut snapped, exploding out in waves that knocked the breath out of you. literally.

you couldn't think. couldn't breathe.

you felt like you were being held hostage to your own pleasure. you couldn't do anything but wildly buck your hips into her face as she continued lapping up everything you had her before it even had time to leak. your mouth was open— no sound, just gasps of air— cheeks hot and wet from the tears that slipped from your eyes.

finally feeling your arm again, you muster up as much energy as you could to push at her shoulder. paige pulled back breathlessly, lips and chin drenched in your juices. her hair was messy, most of her bun undone from the grip you had on it.

your legs were trembling, and paige— sensing that you were struggling— stood up to her feet to hold onto you. she caressed your face with her other hand, bringing you in for a quick kiss.

when she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours. "you okay?"

you nodded, still dazed from your orgasm. your hand reached for her chain, looping a finger under it to pull her back in. your lips met hers again, hungrier this time. you sucked on her bottom lip, moaning softly into her mouth, then kissed your way down to her chin, licking your own slick from her skin like you were claiming it back.

paige moaned, gripping your sides tighter. "shit..."

"bed," you muttered against her jawline, breath hot against her skin. "now."

paige didn't hesitate. her hands grabbed onto the back of your thighs and lifted you up, your legs instantly wrapped around her waist, leaving messy open mouthed kisses at her neck as she maneuvered through her apartment. you bit down, sucking hard enough to bruise.

"you're killing me," paige said, her voice strained and needy.

"good," you whispered, rolling your hips against her bare stomach.

paige pushed open a door with her foot and crossed the threshold, tossing you onto her bed. you bounced once, dress hiked around your hips, tits fully out and glistening in the soft light from your body oil. you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching her with parted lips.

she reached forward, tugging at the hem of your dress until it reached your hips. you lifted yourself up, helping her completely pull it off of you.

she then grabbed the ends of her shirt and pulled it over her head, revealing a fitted black sports bra that hugged her just enough to make you throb all over again. she let it drop to the floor behind her, eyes still locked on yours as she started to crawl over the bed.

but you stopped her, foot planted against her abdomen.

she froze and arched an eyebrow at you, curious, breath catching just slightly.

you didn’t say anything right away, dragging your foot slowly down her torso, tracing every muscle, until your toes found the zipper of her shorts and rested there.

"these too."

paige's mouth curled into the faintest smirk, "yes, ma'am."

she pulled back to undo the zipper on her shorts slowly, hooking her thumbs into the waistband before dragging them down her legs. her boxers were black, snug against her thighs. she was lean, defined in all the right places. the rough kisses you left on her neck were already forming into hickeys. you felt your mouth water at the sight of her in front of you.

"i wanna taste you."

you rose up to sit on your knees, eyes never leaving hers. paige stayed standing, watching you with a heat in her gaze that made your pulse spike.

“i won’t stop you,” she murmured, her fingers slipped into your hair, gentle but possessive, dragging her nails lightly along your scalp as if guiding you without force.

your hands slid up the side of her thighs, letting your nails drag against her skin, before they curled around the waistband of her briefs.

you tugged them down slowly, watching the way her body responded. you could see her hips jerk forward, just once, small but noticeable.

they slipped halfway down her thighs with ease, revealing her slick, glistening cunt already dripping for you.

your hands gripped her thighs for stability as you got closer, lips inches away from her. "i should make your ass beg."

“yeah fucking right,” she fired back, letting out a shaky laugh.

"what?" you pulled back slightly, dragging your lips upward to lick up her thigh, along her pelvis bone. "you had so much to say about this mouth... now you don't want it?"

"i do want it."

you could see her patience thinning, but you didn't care. she was stubborn, but so were you. she didn't get to toy with you all night and not get a taste of her own medicine.

your thumb brushed over her clit just barely and she tensed again. you kissed back down her thighs. "beg."

for a second, she didn’t move.

her jaw clenched, eyes closing briefly. but you stayed there, still quietly placing kisses on her skin, waiting for her next move.

then she finally spoke.

“please, baby,” paige rasped, opening her eyes to meet yours. "i need your mouth— fuck, i need it.”

you let her feel your smile against her skin. within seconds, you leaned in, kissing her clit once. then again, longer, deeper, lips sucking around it with purpose. you felt her fingers tighten in your hair as she let her head fall back with a soft moan. you licked between her folds, tongue flattening to push deep and taste everything she had waiting for you.

“shit—" paige choked out, tugging you back suddenly, her breath shallow. "lay on your back. now.”

you moved quick, eyes hungry as you laid flat against her sheets, mouth still wet with the taste of her. paige climbed over you, the mattress dipping beneath her weight, and positioned herself above your face, her pussy just inches from your mouth.

“this okay?” she asked, voice quieter now.

you didn’t answer with words.

your tongue met her center again, licking up her slit before you sucked her clit into your mouth with a moan. paige groaned, deep from her throat. her thighs tensed beside your head, her fingers finding your hair again, tighter now.

“oh shit…”

she rolled her hips once, careful and experimental, then again, rougher, grinding down into your face like she needed it.

you held yourself still with your tongue flat out as she rode your face, watching her through your eyelashes. her eyes were closed, eyebrows slightly furrowed, with her lips parted. her moans were quieter, but raw and vulnerable. you clenched your own thighs together at the sight.

you flicked your tongue up at just the right angle, hitting her clit mid-grind, earning another praise from her.

"just like that."

you could feel her starting to shake above you, her wetness coating your chin, dripping down your jaw. she continued rhythmic strokes that got messier with every pass. you didn’t move even as your jaw began to ache. you kept your tongue out, let her use you as she pleased, hands resting on her thighs as she rode your mouth harder.

paige tugged at your hair tighter, making you moan against her. you pressed your tongue even further into her, feeling her hips stutter.

“oh—” she gasps, moments before she reaches her orgasm. a heavy groan escapes her and her entire body shudders, her thighs clenching tight around your head.

paige didn’t say a word for a moment.

just hovered there, breathless, trying to collect herself. it wasn't long before she removed herself off of you to sit in the empty space next to you, back rested against her headboard.

you sat up slowly. paige was watching you—head tilted back slightly, eyes hooded and dark.

“come here."

you crawled toward her, and as soon as you were within reach, her hands found your waist, dragging you forward until you were straddling her lap.

her eyes dropped, trailing down your chest, over your pierced navel, past the mess she’d made between your thighs, and back up like she was trying to memorize you all over again.

your tongue slid across your bottom lip, licking away the taste she left on your face.

she didn’t look away.

“wanna taste it?” you asked.

paige nodded slowly before you reached out, cupping her chin between your fingers. her lips parted easily for you.

you leaned forward, mouth hovering just above hers, letting a mix of your saliva and her juices fall into her mouth. it dripped slow, stretched, then broke against her tongue.

she chased after your lips hungrily, like she needed more of you. her hands found the curve of your ass and gripped firmly, thumbs digging into the flesh before she let one cheek go and landed a sharp slap that echoed through the room. you gasped, body jolting, but the sting only made you want her more.

"turn around," paige ordered, murmuring against your lips.

you hesitated, confused, but could feel the delicious anticipation curling in your stomach. still, you let her guide you, limbs pliant under her touch.

your back was now pressed flush to her front.

her arms wrapped around your thighs, yanking them up, spreading them wide until your wet cunt was fully exposed on display for both of you.

“look at that pussy,” paige whispered against your ear. “so fucking pretty.”

your head dropped back into the crook of her neck, lips parted, chest heaving. she kept one arm locked under your left thigh while her leg held your right leg in place, holding them up and apart so you wouldn't be able to close them. her other hand slid up your front, warm and delicate, until it found your breasts.

she cupped them softly at first, then squeezed. her thumbs brushed over your nipples, rolling them between her fingers until you whined from how sensitive you still were.

"paige..." you half-whined, half-pleaded, feeling yourself clench around air desperately.

her hand left your breast, holding two fingers up to your mouth. "suck."

and you did.

your lips wrapped around her fingers, warm and wet, tongue swirling around them as you kept her gaze.

paige’s eyes darkened, her breath hitched just slightly as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking her fingers deeper. when she finally pulled them free, they left your lips with a slick pop.

you didn’t even have time to blink. her hand was already between your thighs, and those same soaked fingers slipped into you to the hilt without warning.

your walls clenched around her immediately, a broken gasp ripping out of your throat.

at first, she moved slow, making your stomach tighten and your hips lift off the bed. she let you sit in it, let you feel every inch of her fingers dragging against your walls. until she shifted. her pace snapped faster, rougher, fucking into you without mercy.

your back arched hard, hands scrambled up her arms, gripping her flexed biceps so tight your nails dug into her skin. you let out a soft cry, voice cracking as her name fell from lips.

her hand slid off your thigh, moving up to your throat— wrapping around it, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. "so wet for me. bet you’d let me keep you like this all night.”

"yes," you mewled softly, nodding your head repeatedly against her as your legs shook.

her thumb pressed against the side of your throat, feeling your pulse hammering against her skin.

“yeah?” she taunted, grinding her fingers deeper into you. “you’d let me fuck you stupid, baby? keep you creaming on my hand ‘til you can't take it?"

“i—” you gasped, a ragged moan ripping out of your mouth as she curled her fingers against your spot. “oh, fuck—”

your legs fell even wider, hips rolling down into her hand.

“…i can take it,” you panted, words slurring.

she kept fucking into you, her strokes rough, anything but gentle. you could feel her breath against your ear, speaking to you— but it was all gibberish to you. she kept her pace the same, grinding her palm against your clit with every thrust, making your vision blur and your whole body shake against her.

"yes, yes, yes," you cried, your nails dug into her arms, chasing the orgasm she was dragging out of you. half the words coming from your mouth didn't even make sense anymore.

“that’s it,” she muttered against your ear, breathing you in. she used one of the fingers that sprawled over your throat to turn your head back towards her, claiming your mouth with a messy kiss.

you whimpered into her mouth, fingers tangling in the back of her neck, yanking her impossibly closer like you needed her more than you needed to breathe.

maybe you did.

the heat in your gut was back, hotter, heavier, burning low and brutal.

you pulled back from her kiss, panting against her lips, your chest heaving against hers.

your teeth caught your bottom lip, biting down hard as another sharp pulse rolled through you, your toes curling tight into the sheets.

"oh my god— i'm cumming—" you somehow managed to cry out in between moans.

your body locked up, thighs snapping tight around her hand as fucked you through another orgasm. her hand slipped from your throat to yank your thighs back open, locking her arm underneath your leg.

"take it, baby," she said, against your lips, eyes locked on you.

you gasped sharply, head dropping forward. paige didn’t slow, her fingers fucked into you ruthlessly, letting you ruin her sheets, soaking them underneath your spasming body.

another orgasm tore through you, violent and raw. gushes of your arousal squirting through her fingers and dripped down your ass, soaking her wrist. you sobbed against her arm, whole body trembling uncontrollably from the sheer overstimulation.

“fuck,” paige groaned as she kept going. she retracted her fingers from inside of you, rubbing sharp, quick circles against your clit.

she coaxed you through it, forcing more from you, dragging every last drop out until you were whimpering broken sounds into her skin.

“mm, there you go,” she murmured, half praising, half growling, feeling you shudder beneath her. “so fuckin' perfect.”

your legs twitched helplessly as her movements eventually came to a halt. your body immediately slumped back against her chest, feeling boneless and utterly fucked out. your chest rose and fell in quick bursts, trying to catch your breath.

"breathe, mama."

paige shifted behind you carefully, easing you off her lap and onto the mattress, laying you down gently beside her. her hands lingering a second longer than necessary, like she didn't want the night to end.

"how you feelin'?" her fingers skimmed lazily over your stomach, light, barely there.

your chest rose and fell in sharp, shaky breaths, skin burning everywhere she touched you. paige leaned over, brushing curls from your forehead with the back of her knuckles.

"good," you whispered, voice hoarse. "i think..."

paige smirked, "you tapping out?"

"fuck, no," you let out a breathless laugh, "i'm just... recuperating."

"good," she leaned down, pressing a light kiss to your lips. "cause we still got all night."

[kedreeva]

Well, I've had a bit of a rough week. A deer totaled my (new-to-me I've-only-had-it-a-year) car when it rammed headlong into to side of it on a dark back road, and set off the passenger side side airbags (on the doors, not the dashboard ones). Thankfully I was completely unharmed aside from ringing ears and it did not do a whole ton of damage running into the side of the car (as opposed to the damage that would have been done the other way around, if I had hit it), but unthankfully it hit the airbag sensors and the airbags going off made it unable to be repaired for less than the cost of the car. The deer did not even have the decency to drop dead on the spot so I could eat it, it took off running back into the woods (at least according to the guy behind me that saw it hit me, because personally I thought someone had fuckin' shot my car, because the airbags are apparently explosively powered and smell like gunpowder and smoke).

So, I've been away dealing with that and looking for another car. I was not in love with the Patriot, even though I stuck cool jurassic park stickers on it (rather, I stuck cool jurassic park stickers on it because I was not in love with it), and I was still badly missing my Liberty. So imagine my surprise when I found a new listing for a 2010 jeep liberty with nearly the exact same number of miles on it (70,139) as the patriot I just lost (70,106). It looked practically pristine, came with a clean bill of health from Carfax, and was within a few hours drive to go get. On top of that, it was listed as marked down because it was at non-same dealership that wanted space back, so it was less than the insurance payout. I still called, and I still asked them to do me better than what they had it up for, and the guy was SO busy explaining how much trouble it would be to give it to me for the price I asked with all the taxes and fees and stuff included but that he would valiantly go talk to his manager that I didn't get a chance to say I MEANT just the car price not including those things. So he came back with a price, I asked again for lower again if I could bring cash today (offering the price I wanted to pay total in the first place, had he stopped to listen) and they accepted it.

So, I drove down in my mom's car with her, and took him out for a spin. He drives like a new car. Whisper quiet compared to the lawnmower of car the Patriot was. Tight steering, gas, break pressures, good wheels, great pickup and go, rides high like my old Liberty did, huge backseat/trunk space for caging and hay and stuff. They had detailed the inside so it was pristine and even smelled like new car. Stunning little beast.

When I climbed in to drive home, I found a heads-up penny sitting on each front seat. I think probably the dealership guy put them there in reality, but I choose to believe that it was a peace offering from the universe. Or perhaps the car trying to tell me his new name: Lucky.

I managed not to cry about having a car so much like my good boy Colt back under my hands, but it was a close thing. Anyway, here's to the next 200k miles! Let's see if we can beat Colt's record :)

[ghostlynightpanda]

Hi! Can I request Chishiya x fem!reader who is like Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds? So she also has eidetic memory and high IQ etc. Sorry if something is unclear, my English is very bad, so I use a translator😔🙏🏻

Calculations of Trust

A/N: I’ve never watched Criminal Minds, but I still tried my best to write someone based on what I read about Spencer Reid online. I hope this fits his character the way you wanted!

Synopsis: Stranded in the deadly Borderlands, a brilliant and emotionally analytical woman teams up with the enigmatic strategist Chishiya, blending cold logic and empathy to outwit brutal games—forming a powerful alliance that could be their key to survival, and maybe something deeper beyond.

warnings/content: Chishiya x fem!reader, fluff, canon-typical blood and violence, 2.561 words

Part 2

The sky looked the same.

That was your first thought when arriving in this bizarre world. You weren't sure why that thought struck you first—why your brain zeroed in on cloud patterns and the familiar texture of summer heat against your skin. But when everything else felt wrong, your mind clung to something right. The skyline stretched over Tokyo, unchanged. But the silence—that was alien. Not a car, not a voice. Just the ghost of the city, paused mid-breath.

You took in your surroundings.

No people. No traffic. Just… nothing. You stood in the middle of a crosswalk, frozen, surrounded by still life. Abandoned phones buzzed with notifications that no one would answer.

Your mind kicked into gear. Eidetic memory activated.

Five minutes ago, you were running toward the subway, trying to catch the train after working a little later than usual.

You turned a corner. There was a flash—like fireworks.

And then— You were here.

In the middle of Tokyo. A city that once buzzed with life.

But now? Silence.

You weren't alone for long. A nearby explosion—a concussive boom of noise—jerked you into motion. You ran. Found others. Confused, shaken. They were like you: wrong time, wrong place, no memory of how this world replaced your own.

And then came the games.

Your hands shook. You were honest enough to admit that.

The first game was brute strength, speed, raw terror. Spades.

But even in fear, your brain remained loyal. You noticed the pattern in the balance plates before the man next to you slipped and got impaled. You memorized the tilt sensitivity after watching one test run. You counted the milliseconds between the trap triggers.

You didn't win because you were the fastest. You won because you didn't panic.

Now it was numbers.

The rules seemed random at first—red lights flashing in sequence, pressurized plates, a 3x3 grid.

But you saw it. The Fibonacci intervals in the flashes. The relationship between the pressure sensors and the golden ratio. It was coded math, and everyone was guessing.

You weren't.

You survived. Again.

One pair of eyes watched you the entire game, not with fear, or respect, but calculation. You didn't notice him yet but he noticed you.

The third game looked innocent—like a corporate team-building exercise on steroids.

Eight players. One tower. Ten floors. One room on each level. Each room held a puzzle that advanced you or eliminated you. No hints. Just "Solve or Die."

This was your domain.

The others bickered, shouting over each other as they failed on Floor Three's rotating sequence riddle.

You didn't shout. You stared.

"Wait," you said calmly, interrupting a panic spiral. "The door mechanism—look at the marks. Someone's already tried the wrong sequences. There's a pattern in the wrong answers."

They blinked.

You knelt, running your fingers across the scratch marks, whispering numbers under your breath.

"Floor Three's answer is 13. Fibonacci again. They're using mathematical sequences tied to human cognitive bias. Floor Four will use base-12 logic. Let me lead."

Some hesitated. Others followed.

You cleared the rest of the tower in under 20 minutes.

Every. Floor.

No casualties.

When the exit door slid open and everyone rushed into the light, cheering, you hung back. Breathing in. Processing.

And that's when you noticed him.

White hoodie. Platinum-blond hair. Lean frame. Calm.

He leaned against the wall near the game's edge like he'd never been concerned at all. His eyes didn't match the grin on his face—because the grin was casual, but the eyes were surgical.

"You weren't just solving," he said. His voice was light. Quiet. "You were analyzing the game designers themselves."

You stared at him, guarded.

He smiled wider. "Most people panic. You... profile."

You narrowed your eyes. "And you were watching."

"Observation is underrated," he said. "But then again, so is intellect."

He stepped forward, hands in his pockets.

"I'm Chishiya. And I think you're wasted out here, playing games for peasants."

"…Excuse me?"

"There's a place. A stronghold. The Beach. We collect cards. Build power. I think you'll be a good asset."

Your stomach twisted at the word asset. But part of you knew: intelligence attracts opportunists. Still—something in his tone wasn't exploitative. More like… strategic alliance.

You considered him. He didn't seem like a follower. And you weren't one either.

But the look in his eyes? He saw the way your brain worked. And you saw his. And that made him the first person in this world who felt even remotely familiar.

"…Fine," you said. "But I'm not just muscle for your puzzle-hunt."

He gave a slight nod. "Of course not. You're far more interesting than that."

The Beach wasn't a sanctuary. It was a masquerade.

Everyone wore the same smile, drank from the same bottles, and pretended they weren't all one bad game away from bleeding out on concrete. You watched them from the railing above the pool deck, arms crossed, mind whirring.

You'd been here three days. Already mapped the layout, memorized exit points, analyzed the card collection gaps, and mentally categorized the power players by behavioral patterns. Hatter: Delusional narcissist. Aguni: latent trauma, soldier instinct. Niragi: dangerous—impulse-driven, no empathy. Kuina: calculating, adaptable.

And Chishiya?

Uncrackable.

He didn't talk to people. He examined them. You weren't excluded. In fact, he seemed particularly interested in you.

You kept your distance. Avoided the parties. Watched the Beach from the outside while living inside it. You preferred it that way.

But that didn't stop him.

He found you again.

On the rooftop at dusk. You were alone, mentally replaying a hearts game you hadn't played — just in case. Trying to guess how the designer might think. Preparing.

"I don't like wasting potential," came his voice behind you.

You didn't turn. "Then I assume this conversation has a purpose."

"I want to know how you think."

You turned now, facing him. "Why?"

"Because you don't react. Not the way most people do. You solve the problem and walk away." He tilted his head. "But then… you save people. Like our team in the Tower Logic game."

You met his gaze, cool and unreadable. "You observed all that the whole time?"

His smile curled. "Observation is underrated."

You didn't smile back. "So is empathy."

He said nothing, but his expression faltered—just barely.

The next game came.

Six players. Clubs game. Team strategy. You, Chishiya, Kuina, and three others you didn't recognize.

The arena was a circular facility—ten rooms branching off a central hub, each room holding part of a code that had to be assembled and entered into a control panel to stop a detonation countdown. Cooperation required. Pressure high.

You immediately stepped into role.

First: layout. Second: player observation. Third: behavior prediction. You mentally assigned roles within minutes, logging where each player went, how fast they moved, what patterns they repeated.

You whispered to Kuina at one point, directing her to Room 6. "The clues are mirrored. He's looking in the wrong spot. You'll find the second half of the cipher in the vent."

She blinked. "How the hell did you—"

You didn't answer. No time. You moved.

By the twelve-minute mark, you had memorized all four ciphers, identified the red herring rooms, and were correcting the errors of the weakest players—quietly, efficiently.

People began looking at you with something between awe and unease.

Everyone… except Chishiya.

He watched you with narrowed eyes, arms folded, expression unreadable. You couldn't tell if he was analyzing your method, or your motives.

The six of you survived. The bomb didn't go off.

You stayed behind in the lobby, alone again, scribbling numbers into the dust with your finger—reworking a hypothetical failure scenario.

Chishiya stepped into your periphery. "You had the solution at the halfway point."

You didn't look up. "Yes."

"But you kept feeding it to the others. Slowly. Piece by piece."

You finally looked at him. "Would you have rather I let them die?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "If efficiency is the goal, why not just input the code yourself and let the weak ones be removed?"

You studied him for a long second.

"Why save people?" he asked, voice light but sharp. "You're smart enough not to care."

You tilted your head.

"Emotion isn't weakness," you said calmly. "It's data, too. Empathy helps you predict behavior. Understand intent. If you ignore it, you're only seeing half the variables."

He stared at you.

You stared back.

Two brilliant minds. Opposing algorithms.

But for the first time, there was something like respect between you. Something mutual, if unspoken.

He turned to leave. "You're interesting," he said over his shoulder. "That's rare."

You didn't respond. Not out loud, anyway. But your next move was already forming.

And somehow, you knew: so was his.

The announcement still hung in the air.

Another high-ranked hearts game.

You felt the chill thread down your spine — not from fear, but from certainty.

This wasn't logic. Not just logic. It was trust. Emotion. Manipulation. A game designed to tear alliances apart.

Your eyes flicked across the room. Eight players total. Circular arena. One glowing pedestal in the center, one screen above it.

Game Name: "Trust Fall."

Objective: One player is the traitor. Only the traitor knows they are the traitor. Everyone else must identify them correctly within 30 minutes. If the majority guesses wrong, all non-traitors die. If the traitor is correctly identified, they die. If no decision is made in time, everyone dies.

Timer: 30:00.

You exhaled slowly.

Someone muttered behind you, already accusing someone else.

You didn't flinch.

You weren't afraid.

Because Chishiya was here.

And he wasn't talking, either.

It turned ugly fast.

One girl started crying. A man began shouting at another, pointing fingers. Everyone was looking for tells — shifting eyes, nervous hands.

But the traitor? Might not be nervous at all.

You stayed still, listening. Absorbing.

So did he.

At one point, your eyes met across the room. Not a word. Just a nod — the barest flicker of recognition that said: You're watching the same patterns I am.

You moved closer. Quietly. Avoiding attention.

"They're emotionally reactive," you whispered to Chishiya when you were close enough. "We need a baseline of behavior before paranoia infects it all."

"Already too late," he murmured back. "They're spiraling."

"We isolate. Compare responses. Narrow it down by contradiction."

He nodded once. "Together, then."

It was brutal, in its design. Every ten minutes, you were allowed to interrogate one person as a group. It was chaos.

So you and Chishiya ran it like a silent operation.

You led the questioning. Calm. Cool. Clinical. You asked for timelines, movement patterns, memory details.

He watched them. Every microexpression. Every inconsistency.

"I saw her move toward the pedestal earlier," one player said.

"She said she didn't," Chishiya countered softly, almost amused. "But you did."

The woman froze.

Bit by bit, the lies unraveled.

But the closer you got, the more the others turned on you.

"You two think you're better than us," someone spat. "You act like you already know everything."

You stepped forward. "No. We just don't let fear do our thinking for us."

But they didn't want calm.

They wanted blood.

Twenty Seconds Left

Only two options remained: the woman, or the man next to her.

The others were screaming at each other.

You and Chishiya stood shoulder to shoulder.

"It's her," you said softly. "She slipped up. Three minutes ago, she said the clue was in the screen prompt. But that was only visible after the first vote. She couldn't have known that... unless she was the traitor."

He paused. Nodded slowly.

"Agreed."

"But we'll need at least one more vote to swing the majority."

Chishiya looked at you. A rare flicker of uncertainty passed through his expression. "What if we're wrong?"

You didn't hesitate.

"We're not."

He smiled. Just a little. Then turned to the others.

"You're all too busy panicking," he said, his voice cutting through the noise. "You missed the only actual tell."

Then he pointed at the woman.

The votes followed.

She screamed. Denied it. Begged.

The screen flashed red.

TRAITOR IDENTIFIED. GAME CLEAR.

The door to the arena hissed shut behind the others. Silence returned. Heavy. Absolute.

You didn't move. Neither did he.

The digital clock on the wall blinked back zeroes. You watched it for a moment, eyes unfocused, as if the weight of the aftermath had only now begun to register. Not fear — just the gravity of the choices you made.

Chishiya stood to your left, arms still crossed, but there was no smugness, no satisfaction in his posture. Just that same unreadable calm. Like the sea before a storm.

"You hate relying on people," he said, voice quiet in the echoing space.

You tilted your head toward him. "So do you."

A small breath escaped him. Not a laugh, exactly — more like the exhale of someone surprised by how unsurprising something feels.

"But we didn't lose," he said.

"No," you agreed, stepping slowly into the center of the room. "We didn't."

Your eyes trailed the lines in the floor, where earlier you'd stood with half the group ready to turn on you. People break fast in games like this. You understood why. But it still left a taste in your mouth you couldn't quite name.

He followed, hands slipping into the pockets of his hoodie.

"We won easily," he added after a pause, as though testing the shape of that truth.

You stopped, turning to face him fully now. "Not easily. Efficiently."

He gave a soft shrug. "With everyone else flailing in panic, I'd call it easy."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying we make a good team?"

Chishiya didn't answer immediately. He looked at you, and this time the gaze lingered — not with calculation, but something deeper. Curiosity. Understanding. The faintest trace of something warmer.

"Better than good," he said. "Strategically, you're the only one I can work with who doesn't slow me down."

Your lips curled slightly. "High praise. Coming from you."

He gave you a glance, dry but not unkind. "Don't let it go to your head."

You turned your attention to the dim hallway ahead, the path back to the Beach. The false security. The chaos waiting in the next game.

"You want to keep working together," you said, more a conclusion than a question.

"Yes," he answered. No hesitation. "Until we get out of this world."

You were silent for a moment. Then, you asked — quieter — "And after?"

Chishiya looked at you. Really looked at you.

And for once, his answer wasn't immediate. His eyes searched yours, as if weighing something unspoken. You wondered what he saw: a mirror of his own isolation, or something that cracked through the cold logic you both wrapped yourselves in like armor.

"Maybe," he said finally. Simple. Honest.

Not a promise. But possibility.

You let the silence stretch between you again — not uncomfortable, just full.

Then, finally, you turned toward the exit. He walked beside you, footsteps syncing in a rhythm neither of you acknowledged but somehow matched anyway.

Two minds. Sharp. Calculating. Unrelenting.

But now—aligned.

And beneath all that logic, beneath the masks of detachment you both wore so well, something else had started to take root.

Not trust, exactly.

But the beginning of it.

And perhaps, someday, more.

Masterlist

[sevarchive]

bllk drabbles! #11

blue lock characters! with a filthy rich s/o

a/n: btw reader is canonically richer than reo in this one. this plot was suggested from this request!

starring: kiyora jin, chigiri hyoma, sae itoshi, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, kurona ranze, and yukimiya kenyu

KIYORA JIN doesn't know how to process it.

you’re calm when you say, “i bought you a recovery pod. same model the pros use.”

he blinks at the chrome sci-fi cocoon in your guest room.

“i—you bought it?”

you nod. “well, imported. i figured your muscles deserved the best.”

he gently touches the side. “this costs more than my apartment.”

you hum, casual. “then i’ll get you a new apartment too. one with a mountain view or whatever you like.”

kiyora opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again. “you’re joking.”

“i’m stupidly rich and madly in love. let me cope through capitalism.”

he huffs a disbelieving laugh. “you're unreal.”

“you like it?”

he exhales slowly. “i do. but… don’t forget i liked you when you were just annoying in sweatpants.”

you grin. “so you admit i was annoying.”

“you still are.”

you tackle him onto the couch. the pod behind you pings to life, announcing in a robotic voice: "welcome back, king kiyora."

he hides his face in your shoulder.

“…we are not keeping that feature.”

CHIGIRI HYOMA has always expected to be the one giving the princess treatment. not… receiving it.

so when he steps into the private spa you rented and gets handed a silk robe, rose petal foot soak, and a laminated schedule titled “hyoma’s healing journey”, he freezes.

“…i thought we were getting foot rubs.”

you sip from your champagne flute. “we are. and a five-step brightening facial, two kinds of lymphatic drainage, and one chakra balancing.”

“…why are there chakra crystals on the hot tub cover?”

“for alignment.”

he squints. “what’s that smell?”

“imported lavender steam.”

a staff member bows and says, "your third eye will thank you, sir."

chigiri turns to you with wild eyes. “i’m not supposed to be the pampered one. i do the pampering.”

you guide him toward the chaise. “then let me flip the script.”

he protests all the way into the silk robe. complains while sipping cucumber water. sulks as they buff his feet.

an hour later:

“...okay, maybe i’m into this,” he admits, eyes half-lidded as someone massages his scalp.

you grin. “told you.”

“…but if you put me in a tiara, i will revolt.”

you don’t answer.

“Y/N.”

“smile for the tiara.”

ITOSHI SAE has standards. high ones. and when you hand him a velvet box before training, he looks at it like it personally insulted him.

“what is this?”

“a gift,” you say. “custom cleats. carbon fiber. ai-enhanced pressure sensors. biometric grip. they scan your stride and adapt in real-time.”

he opens the box. blinks once. “...they better not talk.”

“they also warm up before matches,” you offer.

sae squints. “great. i always wanted shoes with a preheat setting. what’s next? voice command?”

“they do respond to commands.”

he clicks his tongue. “if they start calling me ‘daddy,’ i’m suing.”

you grin. “would you prefer ‘king’?”

“i’d prefer ‘quiet.’” he picks one up and turns it over like it owes him money. “they’re not hideous.”

“that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“i don't mind getting spoiled. but if you get me a smart headband next, i’m ending the relationship.”

you smirk. “too late. it arrives thursday.”

he exhales sharply. “you are the single most annoying rich person i’ve ever loved.” then, after a pause, he adds “but you’re also the only person who ever bothers to learn what i actually need.”

he nudges your side with his foot, barely looking up. “...thanks, i guess.”

which, from sae, is the emotional equivalent of slow dancing in the rain.

MIKAGE REO is plotting your downfall.

“you outbid me,” he accuses, mid-brunch.

“for charity,” you reply.

“it was a SILENT AUCTION!”

you tilt your head. “i do enjoy crushing your spirit under the weight of my wallet.”

reo stares. “so are we flirting or fighting?”

“yes.”

before he can retaliate, the auctioneer clears his throat. “next item: one (1) lazy prodigy, comes with gaming addiction and severe nap dependency. starting bid: 1,000 yen.”

you and reo both raise your hands.

nagi blinks from the refreshment table. “huh?”

“i raise to ONE million,” reo says casually.

“two and a lifetime snack subscription,” you counter.

“three and i throw in a temperature-controlled gaming chair,” reo shoots back.

nagi pauses. “…are you guys buying me?”

“four million and i promise to never wake you before noon,” you say sweetly.

“five and i rename my yacht after him,” reo snarls.

nagi tilts his head. “what if i don’t want to be sold?”

“YOU DON'T GET A SAY,” you and reo reply in unison.

the auctioneer slams the gavel. “sold. to the terrifyingly coordinated couple.”

reo grumbles. “this is the third time we’ve accidentally bought nagi.”

you shrug. “he should stop being so marketable.”

NAGI SEISHIRO blinks when you hand him a velvet box.

“…is it food?”

“no.”

he opens it anyway. inside: a diamond-studded, ai-enhanced controller. ergonomic. heat-reactive. probably smarter than both of you combined.

he tilts his head. “looks expensive.”

“it was.”

“cool. can it play the game for me?”

you sigh. “it can analyze finger fatigue and auto-adjust input lag.”

he nods, impressed. “that’s kinda cracked.”

ten minutes later, he’s horizontal on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. the controller glows. the ai says, ‘excellent backshot, seishiro.’ he munches a chip. doesn’t blink.

“do you even remember my birthday?” you ask.

“yeah. it’s… uhh…” he trails off. “the day my xp bar maxed out.”

“…what?”

“don’t worry. i set a reminder. in my game.”

you raise a brow.

“npcs drop cake and buffs that day.”

you stare.

he leans his head lazily against your shoulder. “i also made your character look cool. and hot.”

you sigh. “you’d be nothing without me.”

“nah,” he mumbles. “i’d still be good. just, like… not moisturized. or fed.”

KURONA RANZE is confused. deeply, deeply confused.

he was promised brunch. maybe a nice view. instead, he’s sitting in an underwater restaurant: with panoramic glass walls, coral towers, and a school of fish watching him eat.

“you brought me to an aquarium,” he says slowly.

you grin. “correction. i brought you inside the aquarium.”

a fish with big, buggy eyes floats past. kurona narrows his own.

“…he’s staring at me. staring.”

you nod. “we can get that one for brunch if you want.”

he chokes. “he’s got a family! a fish family!”

you sip your drink like it’s none of your business. “so? you ate his cousin last week.”

“that was sashimi! it didn’t have personality!”

you smirk. “so… submarine dinner next week? titanic ruins?”

kurona lowers his fork slowly. “i’m not dying in a sunken boat just so you can take aesthetic photos.’”

you grin. “there’s bioluminescent shrimp.”

he stares. “i can watch glowing shrimp from my couch. in 4k. with snacks. and zero risk of becoming fish food. food.”

“c’mon,” you tease. “you’d look great in a wetsuit.”

“i’d look better on land. with air. and dignity.”

but when the fish-shaped cake arrives and the tank lights spell out “kurona,” he beams.

“…cool. it’s cool.”

YUKIMIYA KENYU looks absolutely done.

“you didn’t.”

“i did,” you grin. “i bought billboard space in every major city.”

he turns—and yep. there’s his face. on a 50-foot poster. posing. smizing. looking like he just invented skincare.

with the caption: yukimiya kenyu: the vision.

“i didn’t even approve that photo,” he mutters.

he scrolls through his socials. every feed: him. magazine covers, bus ads, milk cartons (??).

“they put me on the side of a yogurt truck,” he says, horrified.

“gut health is important,” you offer.

he clutches his forehead. “i’m being haunted by my own jawline.”

later, he’s dragged to a mall opening. the backdrop? himself. larger-than-life. again.

“…my eyebrows are fighting for dominance,” he mutters.

you lean closer. “next week: holograms. full body projection. interactive. you can high-five yourself.”

he stares. “i already talk to myself in the mirror, thanks.”

but when you catch him taking a selfie with his own billboard later, he mutters, “…lighting was good. it’s for reference.”

you raise an eyebrow.

“i am the vision,” he says flatly.

you cackle. “there he is.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤdedicated to @🍡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ© sevarchive ✦ masterlist

[mellowsadistic]

Costume Changes - Part 2

The three girls looked utterly ridiculous once the witch had helped them into their new costumes. Lucy’s angel costume was, if anything, more revealing than her devil outfit, but somehow it didn’t make her feel sexy. The white dress ended at her mid-thighs, and her pull-ups were just about visible through the semi-transparent fabric. The outline of her breasts were obvious too, and her nipples poked tents in the silky material, leaving no doubt that the innocent little angel was actually a fully grown woman. The wings and halo were added absurdities. She was almost jealous of what Amber got to wear.

The sensible librarian outfit was no more. In its place, Amber wore a skimpy schoolgirl costume. It had a short tartan skirt and a white blouse that tied in a knot under her breasts, which, Lucy noticed for the first time, were much larger than she’d expected. The bra that had kept them contained lay discarded on the floor, along with Amber’s plain white knickers. In place of her adult underwear, the frightened young woman wore childish My Little Pony panties. The witch had also gone to the trouble of turning her practical ponytail into two adorable pigtails sticking out of either side of her head like handlebars.

Candace had it worst. Her beautiful queen’s dress, commissioned at a high price with Daddy’s money just for tonight, lay crumpled in a heap on the floor along with her crown. Her new outfit was decidedly different. It was bright pink, and much cheaper-looking. The dress had a plasticky sheen to it, sequins dotted the collar and sleeves, and the skirt sparkled with glitter. Unlike her elegant blue gown, its flouncy hem barely reached past her waist, leaving her bulky, adult-sized Pampers on full display. They bulged between her legs, pushing her thighs apart and forcing her to stand slightly bow-legged. A plastic tiara sat on her head.

“Perfect!” the witch announced, looking them over with a pleased expression. “Isn’t that better? Now you can have some sweeties!”

“We don’t want sweets!” Lucy blurted, finding her courage. “Just let us go! Look, we’re sorry about tp’ing your house, okay?” She tried to take off her halo headband and throw it to the floor, but her hands wouldn’t obey her. She stomped her foot in frustration. “It was just a joke! It’s part of Halloween!”

The witch smiled. “And so it this, little one. Just because it’s Halloween, it doesn’t mean your actions don’t have consequences. If you play a trick on a witch, it’s only fair that she plays one on you in return.”

“You’re not a witch,” said Amber firmly. She too seemed to have found her voice. She adjusted her glasses and looked at the woman with a resolute look in her eyes. “There must have been something in the garden,” she said confidently. “Pressure sensors in the grass that released some kind of chemical to make us highly susceptible. I’m sure it’s nothing the police would have difficulty finding. So how about this – you let us go, and we promise not to press charges.”

The witch chuckled. “What an imagination you have, sweetie! But I’m afraid it’s just plain old magic.”

“If it’s magic, why can’t you just snap your fingers and make all the toilet paper disappear?” Candace demanded.

“It doesn’t work like that, baby,” she cooed. “But I’ll get it tidied up somehow. Don’t you worry. I know you’re far too little to clean up your own messes.”

“I can…” Candace hesitated. “I can arrange for someone come and clean it up if you let us go,” she finished, snobbishly.

The witch sighed. “I can see just changing your costumes wasn’t enough,” she said, shaking her head. “The three of you need some help acting the part as well.” Before they could say another word, she’d walked past and tapped each of them in the middle of their foreheads.

Lucy felt a strange tingling sensation start in her head, and Amber let out a gasp.

“What are you doing to me?” Candace squealed, clutching her own head.

“Just giving you some new behaviours,” said the witch. “Helping you be your true selves.”

Candace let out a shriek. She was staring down at her diapered crotch. The front of her white nappy was darkening, turning faintly yellow. It began to sag a little between her legs. “I’m peeing!” she cried, in a mixture of shock and disgust. “I can’t control it!”

“Of course you can’t,” the witch said happily, “You’re incontinent! Sorry, that’s quite a big word for such a silly little girl, isn’t it? It means you can’t control when you do a pee-pee or a poo-poo, so you’ll go right in your nappy just like the big baby you are. And it’s totally permanent!”

“No!” Candace screamed, looking panicked. “It can’t be!”

“I can assure you it is,” said the witch. “You’re just a silly, messy little princess now.”

“Ew, ew, ewww!” Candace cried, shifting from foot to foot as if she was trying to get away from the droopy wet Pampers dangling off her hips. “They’re awful! They’re so yucky and squishy!”

The witch let out a sweet laugh, and Lucy watched on in horror.

“Don’t, like, worry, Candy,” said Amber. “It not really, like, perma… permane… for forever. It’s just, ummm, ‘cause you’ve been drugged and stuff…” She frowned, and started to panic too. “What’s, like, wrong with me? Why can’t I talk good?”

“It’s not your fault, sweetie,” said the witch gently. “You’re just not that smart anymore. I thought you’d be better off as a bit of a dumb-dumb, so I took your intelligence away. You’re more of a high-school dropout than a college smarty-pants now. That’s forever too!”

“No!” Amber squealed, her eyes wide and terrified. “I need my smarts! That’s, like, who I am!”

“Don’t worry, silly girl,” said the witch. “A pretty thing like you doesn’t need to be smart. You’ve got your body. You’ve got your big boobies.”

“No, no, no!” Amber shook her head furiously, as if she were trying to clear it. “I, like, hate my stupid boobs! I hate it when people think I’m, like, a total bimbo just ‘cause they’re big! I’m smart! I’m a smarty-pants! Lulu, help me! I don’t wanna be a stupid schoolgirl!”

Lucy clenched her fists, fighting her fear. She didn’t yet know what the witch had done to her. But even though Candace could be stuck-up, and Amber could be a know-it-all, they were still supposed to be her friends, and if anyone was in charge of their little group, she was. “You’ve got to stop this!” she shouted at the witch. “This isn’t right! I don’t care how badly we messed up your lawn, it doesn’t mean it’s fair to do this! Undo what you’ve done and let us go!”

For half a second, a smile flashed across the witch’s face, then she put her hands on her hips and looked at her so sternly that Lucy felt a tiny bit of pee dribble into her pull-ups. “Bad girl!” the witch scolded, and Lucy was filled at once with a horrible mixture of fear and guilt. “You do not shout at Mummy, little one! We use our indoor voices when we’re indoors, young lady, unless you want to go over Mummy’s knee for a red bottom!”

Lucy soaked her Huggies. She could feel the warm pee-pee streaming into her training pants, spreading around her crotch and between her legs and even up towards her bottom, and she knew her flowers must be disappearing. She burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Mummy!” she blubbered, gasping and hiccupping. What was wrong with her?! “Please don’t spank me!” she wailed. She couldn’t help it. She could see Amber and Candace looking at her, mortified. The witch must have turned her into some kind of weak-willed, pants-wetting pansy!

The witch shushed her gently, her stern expression vanishing. “There, there, darling,” she cooed, pulling her into a cuddle. She reached and pressed her hand against the seat of Lucy’s toddler pants, feeling the heavy warmth there. “It’s okay. Mummy’s not going to spank you this time. Even though you have some problems with naughtiness, you’re Mummy’s sweet angel really, aren’t you, little one? You’re a sweet, helpless, meek little angel. And you always will be.”

“Waaaaaaah!”

“Well, I think that’s quite enough excitement for one night,” said the witch, looking over the three distraught young women with satisfaction. “We’ll have to save the trick or treat candy for tomorrow. Hopefully you’ll be better behaved by then. Alright, upstairs and ready for bed, girls! The three of you ought to be in dreamland by now in any case. It’s way past your bedtimes! But don’t worry, I’ve got lots of fun planned for tomorrow.”

[cognitivejustice]

“Sometimes it gets so hot, I can’t think straight,” said Chunara, sporting a black smartwatch that contrasts sharply with her colourful bangles and sari.

Chunara is one of 204 residents of Vanzara Vas given the smartwatches for a year-long study to find out how heat affects vulnerable communities around the world. The watches measure heart rate and pulse and track sleep, and participants get weekly blood pressure checks.

Data collector Komal Parmar, right, talks with Sapnaben Chunara to get heat related information in Ahmedabad, India.AP Photo/Ajit Solanki

Researchers also painted some roofs with reflective paint to reduce indoor heat and will compare them to homes without so-called cool roofs using indoor heat sensors. Along with the smartwatches, this will help them understand how much cool roofs can help poor households deal with India’s scorching summers.

A man applies reflective paint on the roof of a house to reduce indoor heat in Ahmedabad, India.AP Photo/Ajit Solanki

Chunara, whose home didn't get a cool roof, said she's happy to participate by wearing the watch, confident the results will help her family, too.

"They might paint my roof as well, and they might be able to do something that helps all of us in this area cope with the heat better,” Chunara said.

An increasingly hot planet, due largely to burning fossil fuels such as coal and gas that release carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases, means already hot regions are getting even worse.

A 2023 study estimated that if the global mean temperature continues to rise to just under 2 degrees Celsius, there would be a 370 per cent rise in heat-related deaths around the world, and most would happen in South and Southeast Asia and Africa.

“This is a big concern, and it also shows the heat divide” between the poor and wealthy, said Abhiyant Tiwari, a climate expert with the Natural Resources Defence Council and part of the group conducting the research in Ahmedabad.

In the summer of 2010, the city witnessed nearly 1,300 excess deaths — how many more people died than would be expected — which experts found were most likely due to high temperatures.

Following the 2010 tragedy, city officials, with help from public health and heat experts, devised an action plan to warn citizens when the heat is at dangerous levels and prepare city hospitals to respond rapidly to heat-related illness. The plan has been replicated across India and other parts of South Asia.

I studied design in Ahmedabad's National Institute of Design. Reading this helps explain the design of our campus, architecture that emphasized air circulation and natural cooling. Mind you, I was there umpteen million years ago in 1989-1990.

[jpitha]

Curiosity

Captain Benimen grabbed the arms of his chair tightly as the gravity struggled to keep up with the twirling and twisting, the ducking and juking his ship was doing to try and avoid the missiles, energy weapons, and slugs being thrown at them.

"Stupid humans! Why did I even agree to this?" He shouts, as a rippling thump runs along the spine of his ship and makes the deck plates rattle.

"To be fair Captain Benimen, we're not the ones shooting." Keli, one of the human engineers brought over by HIDA and the Coalition was also gripping the bottom of her fold-out chair tightly. Human ships have belts in the seats to keep you in place during high maneuvers; there is no such luxury on the Sefigan's ship. "You aren't going to return fire?"

She had a point. It wasn't human pirates that were attacking his ship and attempting to disable his newly installed Flipwarp drive, still he was never one to stop when he had a good rant going.

"It doesn't matter! The moment you show up, trouble follows close behind. Besides, we can't return fire, we have no weapons. Sensors!" he barked, "Who are these pirates anyway?"

The officer at the sensor suite station is barely holding on as the ship bucks and moves. The screen is vibrating so much they can barely read it. "Uh, it might be Whitetail, Captain. It's tough to tell while we're dodging them."

"Whitetail?! What are they doing way out here?" Captain Benimen starts gesturing with his hands as he's yelling, but a bump causes him to lift out of his seat and he scrambles to grab the arms again. "I don't care who it is, Flipwarp us out of here, we'll outrun them." He turns to Keli "Your upgrade had better work."

"Flipping now, Captain" Helm reports, and the ship is suddenly encased in the prismatic field of their new Flipwarp drive and the shaking stops.

Benimen nods to himself and his fur lowers. "Good. Now that that's settled, we can figure out-" Another series of heavy thumps is felt through the deck. There's a puff of atmosphere, and they can all hear the muffled cries of an alarm and the pressure doors slamming shut through the ship. "Ancestors! What was that?"

"Sir! It appears that Whitetail followed our Flipwarp signal and is giving chase. They're behind us!" The sensor suite officer's voice is tinged with panic.

Automatically Benimen looked behind. All he could see was the rear of the Command Deck, and he swore softly. Turning back to the screen in the front, he could see the outline of another ship behind them, also encased in a prismatic field soaring through Flipspace. "How are they doing that? How can they track us?" He turned to Keli. "Do you know?"

Keli looked up at the ceiling in thought for a moment. As she did, she blinked and stared at the lights. "That's not right..." Looking around, she strode over to the wall behind the captain and ran her hand along a seam. She followed it to the door out of Command. "What the..." She stood up and walked over to the helm station. "Can I check something out for a moment please?"

"O-of course, go ahead." The officer stood, and Keli sat, wincing at the chair made for smaller and more cushioned bodies. She started tapping at the panels.

"Ancestors..." she tapped, frowned, tapped some more. There was a sound like someone banging pots and pans under water.

"They're still firing." The sensor officer replied, glancing up at Captain Benimen, their eyes flicking between him and Keli.

"Keli? Anything you'd wish to share with us during our last few moments alive?" Even in the middle of the battle Captain Benimen made time for sarcasm.

Keli waved him off and touched something near her ear. "Greg, come up to Command, you need to see this."

A few seconds later, a human walked in, wearing an armored pressure suit. The command crew swiveled to look as he clanged in and they all looked worried. Greg lifted his helmet. "Some of the ship is in vacuum, that's why I'm in the suit. The Fire teams are working on securing the area and making safe passage from aft to fore." He walked over to Keli. "What's wrong?"

"Look at this, can you see the lockout here? Keli pointed at something on the back of the station. "Look here too, I think this was added later." She ducked under the station and swore. "This was retrofitted! Captain, who did you buy this ship from?"

"Er, it was my Father's ship, and before that, his Uncle's." Captain Benimen's claws slid in and out of their sheaths in irritation. "It's been in our family for more than one hundred solar years. Why does this matter? We're being shot at, if you have forgotten."

"It matters, Captain, because you seem to have a ship made out of another ship." She pointed up. "Greg, look up, what do you see?"

It was difficult to look up in a pressure suit. Greg had to lean back and crane his neck. Almost as soon as he did he said "Those aren't Sefigan lights."

"Exactly! Check out the rear panel behind the Captain too. That's not made of vremnian, it's a different alloy. I'd bet thirty stars that it's polychroma."

Greg smiled. "I'll take your word for it Keli. It's interesting, but I don't see how this will help us."

Keli gestured with her hands and opened her mouth and closed it once or twice. She was having trouble with her words. "This means that it's not a Sef ship, they bought it and retrofitted it centuries ago. They would have most likely bought it from the Draeden."

"I'll take your word for it, Keli, starship history is your hobby, not mine."

"No no! The Draeden were notorious for arming everything. They were more paranoid than we were! So if we can find where they dummied out the old systems and shunt some power to them..."

"Then we can reactivate the Draeden weapons? Keli that's insane. If they're still here, they're under tons of hull and even if they were exposed they haven't been powered in a couple of centuries."

Keli crossed her arms. Another brace of shots punctuated her pose. "So you'd rather get disabled, boarded and killed - if we're lucky?"

Greg sighed. He bent over and with a thrumming woosh, his suit opened like a flower and he stepped out. "What do I need to do?"

She pointed over towards sensors. "Check that wall, look for hatches, panels, anything. She tapped the comm on her wrist and clinked it against Greg's head. "Here's an update to your translator overlay, you should be able to read Draeden; they're old enough they didn't speak Belanic."

While Greg searches, Keli returns to the helm station and crawled underneath. Captain Benimen could only watch as she started ripping fistfulls of wire out from under the station, and the acrid smell of burning insulation filled the deck.

"Keli! Cease this at once! Stop trying to destroy my ship!"

She slid out from underneath and threw a card at him. "I'm sorry, Captain, I'm in command now." And then went back under the helm station and ripped more wires.

Captain Benamin read the card. In no uncertain terms it told him that Keli had the full backing of the Coalition to do anything and everything to continue her mission - including taking command. On the back was the sigil and signatures of all ten administrators. He held the card as if it would burn him, and sat, defeated.

Suddenly as Keli was ripping wires, there was an alarm that sounded on the deck. It was... different. The crew hadn't heard this one before. It sounded older, more crackly, more warbling.

And the voice wasn't speaking Belanic.

"Got it!" Keli sat up in triumph, and her finger started dancing over the screens. "Greg, did you find it yet?"

"Find what, I've been tapping an- oh!" As he was talking, Greg heard the tone of the panel change. He pushed hard, and it popped open, sliding back on very old gas shocks. Inside were two very large levers, caked in dust and grease. Above them was a sign written in the dotted slashed text of ancient Draeden. As Greg focused on it, his overlay translated the text. 'Manual Override.' "Keli, I found some levers marked Manual Override."

"Yes! Those are the ones. When I say, pull them out, twist the handles 180 and push them back, hard. I'm doing to drop us out of Flipwarp in three... two...now"

With an uncharacteristic shudder, the ship fell out of Flip space and was in regular space again. A moment later the Whitetail ship appeared next to them, and began to fire.

"Now Greg!"

Greg heaved on the levers and they came out of the panel with a heavy clang. He turned the wide handles on the end 180 degrees and bending down, pushed them back into the cabinet until they clacked home.

As he finished, the ancient alarm changed. It went from a high warbling tone to a faster, more insistent tone. A voice in a calm, authoritative voice said something and after a moment repeated it. Another beat, and the ever present noise of the ship, the HVAC, the reactors, everything went silent. Even the gravity turned off, and everyone started to rise from their seat awkwardly.

Benimen began to spin slowly in the air. "I swear on the dust of my ancestors human, if you have broken my ship I will-" he started, but then Keli glared at him. Some very ancient part of his brain reacted to her predatory glare and he stopped. Sefigans were omnivores on their original world, but they tended to be opportunistic. They didn't hunt unless that was the only option. His ancient brain knew what a hunter looked like and knew he shouldn't antagonize one.

After three heartbeats, there was a series of sharp clangs running the length of the ship, starting in the front and headed aft. Following that, the noise of the ship started to return, but the reactor sounded different, angrier. The gravity turned on and everyone fell back into their seats. Benimen landed hard on his bottom.

"Captain! We're..." Sensors looked at their screens and boggled. "Captain, we're splitting off from our ship."

"We're what?" He stood up and ran over to the sensor officer. Sure enough, what looked like the cargo bay, the rear maintenance garage and the hangar was floating away. Luckily the crew quarters, the reactor and the front portion of the ship was still intact. They didn't loose anyone when the ship peeled away.

Keli looked over and pointed. "Greg!"

Greg turned and next to the panel where the manual override levers were, another panel spun around. This had a series of screens and levers, all slightly grimy. He concentrated on the text and his overlay translated.

"Weapons suite."

****

"Pow! Zap! Just like that! I would not have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it, but luckily for you, I was." Benimen nodded to himself and took another sip of his drink.

The bartender made a face. "So you're telling us that your creaky old cargo ship that you got from your father was secretly a Draeden-"

"-a group we hadn't heard anything from in nigh on four centuries." the Innari next to Benimen helpfully added.

"Yes thank you Ki. Your ship was decretly a Draeden frigate this whole time, and you never figured it out?"

"Well, I got the ship from my Da, right? He showed me how to work it and that was that. I never dug into it because I didn't need to. I hauled cargo, and it did that well." Benimen's excitement was diminished with the words from the bartender. He did have a point after all.

"But Beni, you didn't even have the curiosity to learn about your own ship?"

"Dammit Rai what do you want me to say? That I was an idiot and never learned more about my ship and it's history? Why would I do that. Why would I learn about the history of a spanner, or a welder, or a compensator?"

"Because sometimes, you learn interesting things." Keli said, walking into the bar. She was dressed in the sharply tailored black uniforms of HIDA now instead of her grubby coveralls. Her long hair was tied back into a simple ponytail and she was grinning. "Benimen, I was coming by to say thank you for letting me take control, and to apologize for breaking your cargo ship."

The Rai and Ki stared at Keli in shock, and then turned to Benimen "You were telling the truth?" they said in unison.

Benimen grunted and took another sip of his drink. "Course I was."

"Captain Benimen, on behalf of HIDA, I am offering you recompense in the form of three hundred thousand stars. That should be suitable to repair and refit your ship, yes?" She handed him a pad and sure enough, he was now three hundred thousand stars richer. The sigil of the Coalition was at the bottom of the document, certifying it as genuine.

He slid off his barstool and stood before Keli. "Keli - I should say, Agent Keli, I thank you for this." He saluted sharply, Sefigan style, with both his paws across his chest with his claws extended. Keli returned the salute, human style. Business concluded, she turned to leave.

"I'm sorry, Agent, Keli?" Benimen called after her.

She turned. "Keli is fine, Captain."

His ears waggled. "Then you have earned the right to use my family name. Call me Hamin. I am wondering though... I've heard that HIDA hires non-humans. Do you have a need for a captain who has recently come into a frigate and some money that could be used to fit it out?"

Keli stood with her hands on her hips, and looked him up and down. "Well Hamin. That all depends. Why don't you come with me, and we'll see what's what."

[recareels]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ boothill + having his hair pet

character: boothill warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, female reader, iron cock, fluff + angst, mention of blood, mention of gentle hair pulling words: 933

boothill loves having his hair played with and pet because it is one of the only things he can truly, genuinely, physically feel. 

it’s different from the manufactured touch he ‘feels’ on any other part of his iron body; different from the artificial heat his sensors and receptors send zipping to his brain when you splay a palm on his knee or your cheek on his shoulder, different from the simulated pressure he experiences when you twine your fingers with his and squeeze.

and while all of those things are still good and nice—it’s definitely better than not feeling anything at all—real will always feel different. 

real will always feel indescribable. organic, authentic, you.

he loves it when you use his hair as leverage while you’re riding him, knuckles rooted to his sensitive scalp, buried in thick warm tresses. it helps keep you steady and stable as you bounce on his solid cock, strands twirled around your second knuckles and tugging slightly. the pulling isn’t unpleasant, doesn’t hurt, stops just short of actually painful, instead procuring a tingling sting that erupts across his skill, each roll of your hips yanking him forward and sending another bout rippling through the follicles. 

he loves it when you push it back from his sweat-beaded forehead or unstick coiled tufts from his clammy temples, sweeping it away from his face and allowing wet salt to hold it in place as he rests his cheek against your chest. a pillowy palm pets over the drenched locks as your heart begins to calm, as you both come down from the highs of hedonism, as your pretty cum dries glistening and glazed on his iron cock, brains still dazed with bliss. 

he loves it most of all when you scrape your nails over his scalp, all ten grazing through his dense mane and scratching pleasantly, loves it when you comb your fingers through it slow and gentle, watching ink and ivory cascade softly over your skin. 

he hums—purrs like a fucking cat—flops his head down in your lap after those especially rough, ruthless days; a silent demand to be adored. tender fingers submerge themselves in the strands and his eyes slip shut, whole body impossibly melting into you, deliquescing beneath your rhythmic touch. 

no words are spoken, just a gentle whir and the wheeze of his breath as you brush each section, delicately untangling the knots from today’s work, each gnarl smoothed out relieving another ounce of his stress. 

it’s intimate in a way that’s different than when he’s got his metal cock buried balls deep in your cunt (though he loves that, too, don’t get him wrong); it’s intimate in a deeply quiet way, a special closeness that transcends carnal pleasure and synthetic sensations, only matched by the feeling of his tongue dragging across yours, of your teeth burrowed in his lip, of warm blood oozing from split skin—yours, his, tangling with threads of spit and becoming one, massaged into burning flesh and sensitive tastebuds, seeping into him. 

but your hands in his hair, your fingertips pressed to his scalp and his temples, your nails raking against delicate skin—that’s different than the ritual of kissing and swapping crimson-tinged saliva, because kissing is a joint effort, a shared sensation, a mutual give-and-take, while petting and combing his hair is all you. 

it’s you giving him something without anything in return, and him accepting it wholly and earnestly. it’s you gifting him a sensation that he cannot truly give back; not with heavy silver fingers that press just a hint too hard; not with grooved mechanized knuckles that catch on strands even when he tries his hardest to be careful, to be gentle.

he’d lay there forever if he could, calmed beneath your sweet ministrations, lulled into such content complacency that he often drifts into a serene sleep, free from those haunting visions of charred earth and melted flesh, of ash and copper saturated air, of choking smoke and blistering screams. 

jus’ another five minutes, he slurs out, when you tell him your knuckles are stiff and your fingers are aching and your belly is empty. then i’ll make ya somethin’ t’eat, promise. 

his drool is sticky and hot on your thigh, drivelling from the corner of his mouth to puddle on your skin, and an intense bout of love, pure and bright and so, so warm, fills your ribcage—your lungs and your heart and your very soul itself—so much so that the bones expand, stretch, strain with such immensity. 

a palm flattens to the crown of his head, curled around it almost protectively, your thumb caressing his hair in slow, long strokes. a sigh wafts over your thigh, cooling the small pool of spit, and he nuzzles his cheek into your leg, satisfied. 

there are other physical sensations you gift him, too: your sounds melting on his tongue, puffed scorching hot into his mouth and down his throat as he pounds into you, things he swallows so greedily, things he is forever starved for. he likes to eat your sounds, likes to feel your sounds—the vibration of your moans against his tongue, slick muscle pressed flat to your sternum; the steady thump of your heart, pulsing against his ear or his cheek; the damp warmth of your whimpers drifting drowsily across his face in the sweetest caress, his own name so gorgeous on your tongue, in your voice, pushed from pouty lips to soak into the only flesh he has left. 

but none of it beats your hands in his hair. 

[heretical-cogitations]

Sanguinius flying thoughts

This invaded my brain and spiralled into this as I was trying to fall asleep, so I had to dump it on here.

How would altitude affect sanguinius flying?

How high can he fly?

Does he suffer from altitude sickness? Does he need to be nursed back to health, or is it something he can get over quickly?

Does he get wind burn?

Are his bones hollow?!

Does different gravity atmospheres and pressures on different planets have an effect on his flying?

How long would it take him to adjust if that is the case?

Does he have to do altitude training?

Does his armour have in built sensors?

Does it get too cold, do his wings get frosty?

How does he deal with g force?

If he spins too much does he get disorientated?

Does he have different helmets for normal flight and high altitude flight?

Also this has me thinking of him dive bombing whoever he is fighting like a bird of prey

Does he get adrenaline rushes from diving from extreme heights

What is his top speed?

Does he lok extra pretty windswept or like he has been on a 5 day bender?