#Moisture Control System

[asestimationsconsultants]

Including Smart Irrigation and Landscaping in Estimates Through a Residential Estimating Service

Modern homeowners increasingly understand that the exterior of a home is just as important as its structure. Landscaping enhances curb appeal, increases property value, and improves the functionality of outdoor spaces. But as water conservation and smart technology become priorities, landscaping is evolving. Smart irrigation systems, native plant selections, and automated water management features are now staples in sustainable outdoor design. Accurately budgeting for these additions can be complex, which is why a residential estimating service plays a critical role.

Bringing Outdoor Features into the Budget Conversation

Traditionally, landscaping has been left as a post-construction concern, often handled without a dedicated budget. This oversight can lead to either unplanned overspending or underwhelming results. A residential estimating service helps ensure landscaping is part of the overall construction financial plan from the beginning.

Incorporating smart irrigation systems and advanced landscaping features early in the estimate allows homeowners to balance indoor and outdoor priorities. This holistic approach ensures aesthetic goals and environmental performance do not come at the expense of structural necessities—or vice versa.

What Smart Irrigation Really Costs

Smart irrigation goes far beyond a simple sprinkler system. These systems use sensors, weather data, and automated schedules to reduce water use, minimize runoff, and adapt to seasonal conditions. However, costs can vary widely based on system size, control features, and integration with other smart home systems.

A residential estimating service can provide detailed pricing on components like moisture sensors, weather-based controllers, zone-specific valves, Wi-Fi-enabled timers, and mobile app integration. Labor costs for trenching, installation, and setup are also factored in, preventing surprise expenses. This ensures that even tech-savvy homeowners understand the full financial picture of going green with their irrigation.

Regional Considerations and Water Efficiency Standards

Smart irrigation systems must comply with local codes, water usage regulations, and environmental conditions. Arid regions, for instance, may require drought-tolerant planting schemes and more advanced water-saving systems than wetter climates.

A residential estimating service provides region-specific guidance, estimating the cost of compliant systems and efficient plant choices tailored to the local climate. These professionals may also include optional items like rain sensors, greywater systems, or underground drip lines, giving homeowners a range of budget-friendly and high-efficiency choices.

Landscaping Materials and Planting Costs

The costs of landscaping materials—mulch, soil amendments, sod, decorative rock, lighting, and planting beds—can be difficult to calculate without professional help. Likewise, the selection and size of trees, shrubs, and perennials impact pricing significantly.

Residential estimating services rely on updated pricing data and supplier networks to give accurate material costs. They also factor in plant density, growth spacing, and maintenance requirements to prevent over-purchasing or underplanting. This level of accuracy supports not only aesthetics but long-term plant health and sustainability.

Incorporating Hardscapes and Outdoor Living Elements

Smart landscaping doesn’t stop with plants and sprinklers. Many homeowners also want patios, retaining walls, walkways, fire pits, or water features. These elements require permits, excavation, grading, and sometimes structural reinforcements, all of which have costs that can fluctuate based on site conditions.

Estimating services can provide full hardscape budgets, including labor and material estimates for pavers, stone, concrete, and lighting. When included in the early estimate, homeowners are more likely to complete these features rather than delay or eliminate them due to unexpected costs.

Labor and Seasonal Pricing Adjustments

Landscaping is labor-intensive, and costs can rise during peak seasons or in high-demand regions. A residential estimating service accounts for these labor fluctuations and helps homeowners time their landscaping projects for maximum value.

For example, if a project is planned for early spring—when landscapers are most in demand—the service may suggest scheduling installations earlier or later to reduce labor costs. Similarly, off-season planting or phased installations can be incorporated into the budget to distribute expenses more manageably.

Energy and Maintenance Savings as Budget Considerations

Smart irrigation and sustainable landscaping aren’t just about water savings—they also reduce utility bills, prevent erosion, and lower maintenance needs over time. Estimating services can include projected operational savings alongside installation costs, helping homeowners see the financial payoff of environmentally friendly upgrades.

This transparency supports better decision-making and offers a long-term view on return on investment. By comparing traditional systems with smart alternatives, the service ensures homeowners make informed, cost-effective choices.

Transparency for Homeowners and Builders

Builders also benefit from having a clear, well-structured estimate for landscaping and irrigation. It minimizes confusion during bidding and avoids last-minute changes. A residential estimating service provides both homeowner and builder with the same detailed scope, improving communication and reducing disputes.

The estimate may also include optional upgrades, such as low-voltage lighting or app-controlled irrigation zones, so homeowners can make decisions based on evolving preferences without derailing the project timeline.

Conclusion

Smart irrigation and thoughtful landscaping are no longer luxury additions—they are vital parts of modern residential design. Including them in the initial construction estimate ensures they are prioritized, funded, and executed properly. A residential estimating service makes this possible by providing accurate, detailed, and regionally informed budgets for these often-overlooked components. The result is a home that’s not only beautiful and functional on the outside, but also environmentally smart and financially responsible from the ground up.

[opstechsanjana]

Moisture Control System Installation | Cotton ginning moisture system in Africa

Enhancing Environmental Control in Africa with Advanced Moisture and Cooling Systems

In Africa, where diverse climates and industries demand precise environmental control, moisture management and cooling systems are essential for maintaining optimal conditions in agricultural, industrial, and residential settings. From cotton ginning to greenhouses, and from bustling urban centers like Johannesburg and Cape Town to quieter locales like Port Elizabeth and Kimberley, advanced moisture and cooling systems are transforming how environments are managed across the continent. This article explores the innovative moisture systems, fan and pad evaporative cooling systems, and mist and fogging solutions available in South Africa, highlighting leading manufacturers and suppliers in these areas.

Moisture Systems: Precision in Cotton Ginning and Beyond

Moisture control is a critical factor in various industries, particularly in cotton ginning, where maintaining the right moisture level is vital for both the quality and efficiency of the ginning process.

Cotton Ginning Moisture Systems in Africa: In cotton ginning, the right moisture content is essential to maximize fiber quality and ginning efficiency. Advanced moisture systems are designed to monitor and control moisture levels, ensuring that cotton is neither too dry nor too damp. These systems help improve the quality of the final product, reduce energy consumption, and enhance the overall productivity of the ginning process.

Moisture Monitoring and Control Systems: Beyond cotton ginning, moisture control systems are used in various industries to maintain the right environmental conditions. These systems are equipped with sensors and control units that continuously monitor humidity levels and make adjustments to maintain optimal moisture. Whether for agricultural purposes, industrial applications, or even residential use, moisture control systems are indispensable in regions with fluctuating humidity levels.

Moisture System Installation: Professional installation of moisture systems is crucial for ensuring their effectiveness. African companies specializing in moisture system installation offer tailored solutions that meet the specific needs of different industries, ensuring that the systems operate efficiently and reliably.

For more information on moisture systems, visit the Moisture System in Africa page.

Fan and Pad Evaporative Cooling Systems: Efficient Cooling Solutions for Greenhouses and More

In regions with hot and dry climates, evaporative cooling systems provide an energy-efficient solution for cooling large spaces such as greenhouses, factories, and even residential areas.

Fan Evaporative Cooling System in Africa: Fan evaporative cooling systems work by drawing warm air through water-saturated pads, where the air is cooled by evaporation before being circulated into the space. These systems are highly effective in cooling large areas and are commonly used in greenhouses to maintain the optimal temperature for plant growth. They are also used in industrial settings where traditional air conditioning might be too costly or inefficient.

Pad Evaporative Cooling System: Similar to fan systems, pad evaporative cooling systems rely on the cooling effect of water evaporation. The key difference lies in their design, where the air is passed directly through the cooling pads, making them ideal for specific applications like greenhouse cooling. Pad systems are known for their simplicity, low energy consumption, and effectiveness in maintaining consistent temperatures.

Manufacturers and Suppliers: Africa is home to several leading manufacturers and suppliers of fan and pad evaporative cooling systems. These companies offer a range of products tailored to meet the needs of various sectors, ensuring that customers receive the most suitable and effective cooling solutions.

For detailed insights, visit the Fan and Pad Cooling System in Africa page.

Mist and Fogging Systems: Transforming Urban Environments in South Africa

Mist and fogging systems have gained popularity in urban areas across South Africa, providing effective cooling and humidity control in both residential and commercial settings.

Mist Cooling and Fogging Systems in Major Cities: In South Africa’s major cities—Johannesburg, Cape Town, Durban, Pretoria, and Port Elizabeth—mist cooling and fogging systems are becoming essential for managing heat in outdoor spaces. These systems are widely used in restaurants, patios, parks, and even residential balconies, providing a refreshing cool mist that significantly lowers the ambient temperature.

Applications in Agriculture and Industry: Beyond urban cooling, mist and fogging systems are also crucial in agricultural settings, such as greenhouses, where they help maintain the right humidity levels for optimal plant growth. In industrial environments, these systems are used for dust suppression and cooling, improving air quality and working conditions.

Leading Companies in South Africa: South Africa boasts several top companies that specialize in the design, manufacture, and installation of mist cooling and fogging systems. These companies are known for their innovative solutions that cater to the unique needs of the African climate, offering systems that are both effective and energy-efficient.

For more information, visit the Mist Cooling System in South Africa page.

Conclusion

Advanced moisture systems, fan and pad evaporative cooling systems, and mist and fogging technologies are revolutionizing how environments are managed across Africa. Whether it’s improving the efficiency of cotton ginning, maintaining optimal conditions in greenhouses, or providing cooling in urban areas, these systems are essential tools in enhancing both productivity and comfort. With leading manufacturers and suppliers based in Africa, businesses and homeowners alike can access top-of-the-line products and services tailored to their specific needs.

Discover more about these innovative systems by exploring the offerings from Mist Cooling Systems Africa. Whether you need moisture control, evaporative cooling, or mist and fogging solutions, you’ll find the expertise and products to transform your environment and meet the challenges of Africa’s diverse climates.

[minimac-mspl]

What is varnish and its effects

The condition of the oil in lubrication and hydraulic systems is indicative of the health of the entire system. There are two essentials for ensuring productivity, for avoiding malfunctions and for reducing operating costs:

Monitoring the fluid condition

Continuous maintenance of operating equipment

Varnish is a soluble and insoluble contaminant made up of by-products of oil degradation and oxidation. It can appear as a gel-resin like consistency or resemble solid deposits in the oil, or which plates out on the metal surfaces of lube systems. It can be the result of several possible root causes, including high temperatures, electrostatic discharges, lubricant degradation and micro dieseling. Varnish can produce a number of problems related to machine operation, such as valve stiction, lubricant flow restriction, clogged filters, etc.

How is varnish different from sludge?

Varnish is a tough, adherent oxide or carbonaceous material that coats internal machine surfaces. Hot surfaces and/or time will often cure varnish to a hard/brittle consistency.

In contrast, sludge, which is sometimes a precursor to varnish, is soft and sticky and can move about the system until finally coming to rest at sump bottoms, troughs, strainers, filters, and narrow fluid passages. To know more follow: https://www.linkedin.com/company/minimacsystemsprivatetlimited

What are the main causes of varnish in your system?

To summarize the prime reasons for varnish generation is following:

Pressure-induced thermal degradation.

Pressure-induced dieseling

Oxidation

Is your system susceptible?

There are a number of reasons why lube oils suffer from high rates of varnish contamination. If your system ticks any of these boxes, then you should test your oil for varnish potential: for Oil Check call +91 8975150700

Visible deposits or discoloration of lube circuit components

If you switched from group I to group II oil, or if you have blended oils

The high flow rate of lube oil from a small lube oil reservoir

High operating temperature

A gas turbine, gas compressor, or hydraulic system

How to physically identify if there is a change in chemical composition?

The following can be the warning signs that the oil has undergone chemical changes:

Change in oil colour

Strong odour

Change in oil consistency

Sludge and hard deposits on metal surfaces

Visible contaminants in oil samples

If you are facing varnish deposits, two actions are recommended to control it. First, identify the root causes. This will require a systematic study of the possible factors supported by oil analysis. Next, remove the existing varnish in the machine.

At Minimac Systems, we offer flushing services and filter check services which ensure a clean system including oil tanks and lines. Book an appointment with our technical expert by clicking on https://www.linkedin.com/company/minimacsystemsprivatetlimited or call +91 89751 50700

Like, Comment, Share this article to spread awareness and sensitize the reader for Zero Mechanical Breakdown.

[sanjanaopstech]

Moisture Control System Installation | Cotton ginning moisture system in Gulf

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

alright. i’ve had a few people ask for more brat tamer Quinn. but to fully understand brat tamer quinn. we need to go into some basics of the dom/sub relationship he’s apart of right? we need to talk about what makes him tick and what makes him explode.

cw: dom/sub relationship, rules, mentions of punishment, pretty tame tbh, just back story

Every day Quinn is a soft dom right? We all agree on this. He's a lover, he’s not really a fighter. Especially when it comes to you. but he has real thin patience when it comes to you, cause he knows you know how to act. He absolutely knows. You’ve always been so good for him, even before you two fully established the dominant and submissive part of your relationship.

I’ve talked pretty briefly about daddy quinn/casual dominance and how it’s started, but let’s talk about that more real quick.

That first sleepover with him, he noticed your phone going off way more than he was used to. Alarms, not texts or calls or social media notifications. Alarms.

“Why do you have so many alarms, honey?”

“Oh! Just helps me remember things, I'm bad at that. Wouldn’t really eat if I didn’t have a reminder. I just get busy and forget, so 100 alarms a day to keep me in line” with a little laugh and that’s when his lightbulb moment clicks.

He always was under the impression you were so independent and he might settle for only really being dominant in his bedroom with you but that? Now, he could work with that.

So that night he got on your phone and made note of all the times and the labels. Woke up super early, made breakfast for you and after? He reminded you to take your medicine. Filled up your water bottle and gave you a bag of snacks before he took you to work. Texts you throughout the day, “time for a snack baby.” “Go refill your bottle.” “Do you wanna go out or cook tonight?” “Put your pj’s in the bathroom for you, won’t be home when you get to mine so let yourself in and get all cozy. Don’t forget to refill the water bottle after your shower baby.”

You then slowly remove all those alarms, cause he’s your alarm.

It’s a slow build, he doesn’t wanna scare you with it. Cause yes he wants you to need him for everything, he wants to have control over you but at the end of every day you call the shots. If you don’t like something? He’s not doing it again. Your comfort and wellbeing is most important to Quinn. So once he’s home, and his pretty baby is comfortable in her pj’s and in his bed - he's going to bring up a system.

“Why don’t we make a checklist? Something you fill out everyday. I can make it on my notes app or in the reminders and add you to it. That way I can make sure it's done and you are well taken care of, especially if I'm not home.”

And he notices the way your eyes get glassed over, the way your eyes show no thoughts. You just nod, “uh huh” and now he's typing out your daily to do’s with little notes. He adds himself because “it's always helpful when you're not doing it alone.”

Quinn + Bunny’s Daily List:

• Brush teeth - AM

• Morning meds

• Skin care - don't forget sunscreen!

• Drink 2 bottles of water, and one glass before your coffee.

• Eat breakfast (even just a protein bar)

• Lunch too

• Shower after work, get out of those uncomfy clothes

• Make dinner/eat dinner

• Evening meds

• Brush teeth - pm

• Skincare - moisturizer too

Set’s up a reward list too, nothing too crazy. Just small stuff, you pick dinner, a new stuffed animal, a new book. Just small things Quinn knows brings you joy.

Once you're in a steady routine with him, that's when he starts to introduce you into his stern tone.His rules. His punishments.

Quinn + Bunny’s Rules:

1. Always share if you're having a bad day, can't help if I don't know.

2. 3 meals a day.

3. Your body is a temple, treat it as such. Aka listen to your body.

4. Don’t talk back, everything I do is for good. - Everything I do is for good, your best interest is always at the forefront of my mind.

5. Never go to bed without an ‘I love you’.

Quinn’s rules are straight forward, they're never too controlling or too much. He wants your say and your opinion. Your voice matters. Asking why or for more clarification is not talking back, to him it shows that you need more, that you need guidance. He never wants you to go in blind.

Now I firmly believe he hates punishments. He hates making you cry, hates telling you “where'd my good girl go?” cause he watches your eyes get sad and he never wants to be the reason you're sad. But he knows, sometimes to get his point across he needs to be stern with you.

It’s never really a conversation either, it's not a “we should try this.” it's a “we fell into this” and now it's just; you guys. It's what works for you both.

[explorevenus]

dirty laundry ♡ re6!leon kennedy x puppy hybrid!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5.1k

tags/warnings: re6!leon, stubborn/reluctant puppy reader who pretends she hates him, brief chris redfield appearance, forced proximity (kinda), leon pining for u (he wants u to call him daddy btw), hybrid heat cycle shenanigans, thigh riding, dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), no use of y/n

description: leon's had a tough time figuring out his new puppy hybrid roommate... outside of the fact that she's sweet on him, and just won't admit it. lucky for leon, he comes home from a mission to find her airing her dirty laundry.

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my beloved and adored @pupthepokemonenthusiast who is one of MY FAVORITE PEOPLE ON EARTH EVER ?!!!! and i luv yapping w them and that makes collaborating w them such a dream every time....

divider by @cafekitsune !!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Loose gravel crunched beneath Leon's boots, uneven pavement glittering with moisture in the streetlights. It was somewhere between raining and snowing, the wind splattering his rosy cheeks with little drops of condensation, every breath puffing out in a visible cloud, head tilted down at just the right angle to protect the lower half of his bruised face from the cold while still being able to see where he was going.

He didn't have a specific destination in mind, and truth be told, he couldn't really read most of the signage around here anyway-- it was all in Mandarin, and his Mandarin was even less reliable than his Spanish, to put it gently. But he could read what he needed to, at least, enough to find the basics like food, bathrooms, lodging, or hospitals, and more importantly, he could discern the backlit lettering above the shop two doors down; antiques and collectibles. 

That was a phrase he'd familiarized himself with in damn near every language under the sun by now. 

A bell dinged quietly overhead as he stepped into the storefront, grateful that it was even open past 9 o'clock at night. It was only one room and didn't have much space to walk around, but every available surface was stacked to the brim with knick-knacks of all shapes, colors, sizes, and price points under no apparent system of organization. Where some might be overwhelmed or put off by the volume of things to look at, Leon felt his heart skip a beat with excitement. He still had some time to kill before his transport back to the States was due to arrive, and not a single minute of it would be wasted overlooking any potential gems. 

Judging by the horrified stares he was attracting, Leon could imagine he looked fucking insane right now, clothes still splattered with wet, rotting blood and the barrel of his gun practically still smoking in his holster as he towered over a shelf in the back corner, scrutinizing a darling little plush bear in one hand and a set of hand-painted matryoshka dolls in the other like it was the hardest decision he would ever have to make. 

Ultimately, he chose not to decide at all-- money wasn't a factor, so why not buy both? If it weren't for the issue of luggage, he'd just say 'fuck it' and buy out the whole damn store. Unfortunately, helicopters tended to be quite limited in space. 

Self control was a skill Leon used to have mastered, perhaps even too well-- for a long time, every uncomfortable, unsightly, pesky little emotion was pressed down into a condensed cube to be neatly packed away in the very back corners of his brain, boxes upon boxes of dense feelings continuing to pile up and take over more and more space up there until the pressure became too much, the lid blew, and he went off the fucking handle. It wasn't something he was proud of by any means, all those long months blurred into mush through a lens of alcoholism and other reckless behaviors, but what he did try to let himself be proud of was his relative success in making it to the other side. 

That, of course, was a feat he did not accomplish without help, nor would he ever claim to. Chris Redfield was instrumental in his recovery in more ways than one, and at times, without even realizing it. He was a listening ear, a dealer of tough love, a trusted confidant...

...and the reason he had you. 

For obvious reasons, Leon had never gone out of his way to get a pet in his adult life. It just felt irresponsible with the inconsistency and uncertainty of his work situation, even with all the money in the world to spend on trainers and walkers and boarding and... whatever else, but at that point, it would feel less like a pet than an accessory, and Leon didn't have much interest in material. Never saw the need for it. Then one day Chris woke him up in the middle of the night banging on the door to his apartment with a gift he never expected.

"She's a... what?"

"A hybrid. She's a human-canine hybrid, Leon." 

Leon glanced between you and Chris with skepticism in his eyes, only to find the same look peering back at him in you. It was almost kind of funny that he'd have a hard time believing there could be such a thing as a human-canine hybrid, considering all he'd seen in his line of work, a thought that made his shoulders and his expression relax almost instantly. 

You were a real cutie, that was for sure, tucked behind Chris and staring up at Leon through your eyelashes with this grumpy little look on your face, a plush, patchwork bear clutched to your chest. The toy was equally as vibrant and colorful as your clothing, if not a bit worn with time. Your ears were long and droopy, your tail hanging low but swishing side-to-side with cautious interest, and the longer he studied you, the more he became endeared by you. 

"The B.S.A.A. rescued a group of hybrids from an illegal facility a few weeks ago, but finding accommodations for them isn't as simple as it sounds," Chris continued, resting a hand on your shoulder in an apparent move to reassure you. "Long story short, the people who were in charge of that facility aren't too happy about the acquisition, and the hybrids aren't safe at the B.S.A.A. anymore. Would you be willing to shelter her for a while?" 

The firm look in Chris' eyes-- and the fact that he just had to bring this up with you right in front of him-- made it clear he wasn't really asking. No mind, Leon would have done it anyway. It just would have been nice to have had a heads up to rectify the state of the apartment. 

"Yeah, of course," Leon nodded gently, stepping aside to allow you and Chris further into the apartment. "Make yourself at home." He caught the way your head tilted up a bit, as if you were studying the scent in the air, and he supposed it made sense that you likely were.

That was four months ago. And for the past four months, Leon quite enjoyed having you around. You were silly and playful, always bounding around the apartment with a toy clenched between your teeth or lounging in the sunny spots in front of the windows, pawing at him for belly rubs and treats and infinite tug-o-war matches. All that being said, you were equally stubborn, resisting him at every turn like magnetic repulsion, always kicking up a fuss seemingly just for the sake of it.

He wasn't sure. You were tough to read. Not only did some of your canine personality traits make you a bit forgetful and distractible at times, but you were also just terribly inconsistent with your affections, and he wasn't always sure what to make of it. All he knew was that he was determined to win you over in one way or another, and if he was going to do that, he'd have to figure you out first, and so far that was shaping up to be quite the herculean task. At least it seemed you would be here for a while. 

With the way he guarded your little treasures during the flight home, one might assume he was smuggling something, but he just couldn't stomach the thought of coming home without something to present to you. The hardened federal agent was determined to crack a smile out of you on his terms, to get you to admit what you both knew to be true. 

You had a crush on him. A big, fat, embarrassingly all-encompassing crush on him, and you rejected the idea of owning up to it so staunchly that it was turning you into a bit of a brat. That was the one thing he could read about you, and it drove you up the wall. 

He certainly wasn't judging you. It would be an absurd lie to say he didn't have a big, fat, embarrassingly all-encompassing crush on you too-- he'd be insane if he didn't. But the back and forth was far too enjoyable, and Leon was always up for a good natured challenge. 

See, self control was something Leon had worked really, really hard to regain a handle on, and when it came to his drinking and brooding, he certainly had... but when it came to you? Not by a longshot. That being said, he would rather be pouring himself into courting you than pouring himself another bourbon. That's what he used to shut up that little voice in the back of his head that questioned whether or not he was putting too much energy into this, banking too much on it. 

It was innocent, right? It's not like you were a bad influence or whatever. If anything, a lot of nights that he would have spent at the bar were instead being spent at home playing with you. Surely that had to be a net positive, especially considering you would have otherwise been getting poked and prodded at in a lab. 

Stepping back into the apartment for the first time in weeks, Leon hadn't even bothered bringing his duffel bag in with him from the car, the only thing in his arms being the wrinkled paper bag from that antique shop. His own belongings could wait. As soon as he shut and locked the door behind him, stepping out of his shoes, the first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. 

No lively music from the shows you liked to watch, no little bumps or growls from you playing toys, no quiet padding of your feet across the hardwood from you coming to see who was at the door. He glanced at his watch, finding it was only half past nine in the evening, and while you often proclaimed to abide by a healthy bedtime for yourself, you had a habit of napping all day and bouncing off the walls all night. Something was amiss.

Stepping further into the apartment to investigate the scene, Leon peered into the living room. The lights were on, the TV was off, there were a few toys strewn about the couch and the floor, but not a glimpse of the sweet puppy who left them there. Odd. Suspicious. Maybe even staged. 

His lips came together in a whistle meant to grab your attention, knowing your sharp ears would hear it from anywhere in the apartment, even if you were sleeping. When that call garnered no response, he began to wonder if you were mad at him. After all, he was supposed to return almost three days ago, and while Chris had been able to stop by and check on you when he had the time, it just wasn't the same, and you didn't do well with loneliness, and Leon knew that. 

Turning on his heel to head deeper into the apartment, he continued to find you nowhere. Not climbing the countertops in the kitchen, or playing under the dining table, or even reluctantly having a bath. As he reached the end of the short hallway, there were only two doors left to open. 

Leon tried another whistle and called out, "Hey, pup? I'm home!" 

He waited, and listened... and heard nothing. Your bedroom door was closed, and it looked like the light was on in there, judging by the subtle glow spilling out beneath it, but still, no response. 

His bedroom door, however, was cracked open. The overhead light was off but the bedside lamp was on, and his dirty laundry basket was tipped over on the floor. When he stepped forward to turn it upright again, he thought he saw the bedding shuffle out of the corner of his eye. Closer inspection of the bed brought the case of his missing puppy girl drew to a close. Your soft tail was peeking out beneath the edge of the covers, the markings and patterns in your fur being undeniably familiar to him now. 

It was perfect timing, really-- he was just about to tip over into the realm of worrying about your safety, but now he was back to just worrying you were mad at him... and he couldn't help the amused grin that tugged at his expression. 

"Is that a little puppy in daddy's bed?" He asked aloud, his tone taking on a smitten and adoring lilt. Once again, he received no response... at least not verbally. Quietly setting down that paper bag, he stood there and watched with his arms crossed as your tail fluttered to life in response to his tone, the tip silently patting the sheets in a lazy and reluctant little wag that you might have actually gotten away with, if it weren't for the fact that your tail was in plain view. 

He was initially going to try a few more times to get a response out of you, hoping to make sure you were okay and to see if you wanted to talk, but he quickly realized that wasn't going to work with you. You weren't all doom and gloom like he tended to be, you were silly, you were playful, you were fundamentally kind. A lighthearted approach wouldn't work with him, or with most of the people he dealt with on a day-to-day basis, but it would almost certainly work with you. 

"Well," Leon stretched his arms up with a dramatic groan, "Since there's no puppies in the bed..."

And then he playfully toppled over the lump in the bedding, bracing himself on his elbows so as not to actually crush you, of course, music to his ears being the muffled squeal of stubborn discontent that sounded out from beneath the covers.

"Leon!" You whined, arms squirming around beneath him in a desperate flurry of moves to find the edge of the blanket, tugging it down to free your face for some air. Soon enough your head poked out from beneath the covers and your eyes were already narrowed into unamused slits at him. 

But that wasn't really what caught his attention about the look on your face. You were panting for breath, your ears flopped back lazily and your hair an absolute mess, your skin hot to the touch and clammy with sweat. Now his eyes were narrowed at you in suspicion, because you were certainly frustrated, just... not the kind of frustrated he was anticipating, if his suspicions were found to be correct. 

"You look guilty," He commented, brow raised as he took you by the chin and tilted your head this way and that, as though in observation. "Why do you look guilty, puppy?" 

"I'm not," You were quick to defend yourself-- much too quick, in Leon's opinion-- and you stubbornly recoiled back from his hand, continuing to squirm and resist beneath him. "You're squishing me!" 

You planted the palm of your hand dead in the center of his face in an attempt to push him away, the bedding slipping further down in the process to reveal your flushed collarbones and shoulders, both of which were bare. Were you naked? In his bed? 

He took you by the wrists to pin your hands down with ease, staring down at you in scrutiny. "Don't lie to me, sweetheart," He said, tone firm, but not unkind. "You're red as a tomato." 

With a stubborn whine, your ears flattened back against your messy head in what could only be read as shame, and that certainly wasn't what he was going for at all, even with the compromising position he had you in at the moment. It was just meant to tease you, but you looked mortified, and he could only imagine why that might be. 

"Puppy," He softened, letting go of your wrists, one hand taking you by the cheek to gently caress you. "You know I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on." 

Your mouth fell open and then snapped shut again a time or two, a clear indication that you were tripping over your words in search of the right ones. Finally, you managed, "It's... I-It's hot." 

"Then why are you all bundled up, huh?"

You didn't even really need to admit it at this point, because it was clear as day what was going on here-- after all, Chris had warned him this might happen, that hybrids could have... intense reproductive cycles-- but he also wasn't going to push it if you just wanted to ride it out on your own. He wasn't an expert on this, he didn't know exactly what you needed, and he didn't want to overstep and freak you out.

That being said, the thought that you'd retreated to his bedroom, desperate to surround yourself with his belongings in his absence just to cope with being in heat, was a remarkably good one.

This time you didn't seem to have a retort, still writhing under him and trying to push him off of you, which wasn't new behavior for you, though this time he did take it upon himself to give you some space instead of continuing to mess with you. 

"Alright, alright, relax, daddy's not making fun of you--" 

"You're not my daddy," You interjected stubbornly, but just like always, the rosy, searing blush on your face betrayed how you really felt about the topic, even as you added, "Stop trying to make me call you that!" 

Leon dearly and sincerely adored you, that much was to be sure, but your hard-headedness could run him ragged sometimes, when you'd dig your heels in so hard about things that seemed so innocuous. Whether or not you should be expected to call him daddy-- which he regularly enjoyed teasing you about but would never legitimately force you to do-- didn't feel like the biggest issue at hand here. Not by a mile. 

How was he supposed to focus on that when you were just... burning up? Panting for breath and shaking and whining? Oh dear God, this wasn't good, and for as much effort as he was putting into focusing on your wellbeing, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to focus on the way his pants were beginning to feel uncomfortably cozy in the front. He brought one hand down between you to adjust himself only to find he'd unintentionally solicited a faint, but distinctly needy moan from you in the process, presumably because you'd touched you somewhere he hadn't necessarily meant to. 

"G-Go away, Leon," You insisted, eyes screwed shut as you turned your head to the side and maintained that stubborn frown he knew so well on you. "Get off of me!" 

But your tail was wagging in an absolute blur, thumping mindlessly against the damp sheets and knocking in between his knees at an intensity that was impossible to miss. Leon's eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth in an intrigued grin before finally sitting back on his haunches, still straddling you, but at least freeing your upper half. 

"Leon, quit--" 

You poor dear, you were so, so close to finishing that sentence, if only it weren't for the way Leon swung one leg between your own, driving his knee right up to the apex until you felt the muted pressure lavish your clit. Whatever you were about to say fizzled out on your tongue and instead popped out in a string of whimpers, your back arching up off the bed. The movement caused the bedding to slip down just a little bit further, confirming his suspicion that you were in fact naked, at least from the waist up.

Taking the soft globe of your breast into the palm of his hand, Leon let his thumb brush over your already pebbled nipple and asked lowly, "Oh, c'mon, pretty puppy... you're totally sure you don't want daddy's help? I think you're just being fussy..."

Your chest rumbled with a little growl, but it was more of a moan than that, and the fiery glare on your face was the perfect image of it. You were pissed, and quite frankly, it was a good look on you. Maybe even one of his favorites. Suddenly you were baring your teeth at him too, just pretending it was in the opposite way. You were such an open book to him. 

"You're being mean," Huffed the stubborn little puppy, but of course, Leon could be meaner. 

So he was. Leon snatched the covers off the bed in one quick swipe, and what was revealed to him beneath had to have been a thousand times better than anything he might have expected. You were naked, yes, but tangled between your legs was a pair of his sweatpants, undoubtedly retrieved from the depths of the overturned laundry basket, the grey cotton soaked through in patches with slick all over the crotch and thighs. 

Fucking Christ, you weren't just getting off to the thought of him, but also the scent of him, the feeling of his clothes on your skin, and presumably, an idea not unlike what he was already teasing you with; letting you rub one out on his thigh. 

Squishing your cheeks in one hand, he said firmly, "Look at me. Do you honestly feel like I'm being mean to you?" 

There was a pause while you stared at each other, your eyes searching his own skeptically. It didn't really seem he was messing with you, no, in fact he appeared like he really wanted to help you. The back and forth was fun and he enjoyed the little game you'd made out of getting to know each other, but when it came to your comfort and wellbeing, he wasn't interested in being forced to solve puzzles. You couldn't really blame him. 

"N-No," You admitted. 

"Exactly, so just... simmer down, will you?" 

This time Leon didn't give you another chance to tell him to fuck off. He scooped you up at the waist and pulled you to your knees, drawing your body close to his until you were straddling his left thigh. Eyes wide, you stared at him stiffly, like you were too afraid to move. Huffing out a breath, he rolled his eyes with a smirk and gripped your hips, tugging you down until you were finally bearing your weight on him. 

For as fast as your pointed teeth sank into your bottom lip to quiet yourself, it didn't even matter. You still let out a pleasured whine, ears flat against your head and your tail hung low, the tip swishing in a reluctant little wag that patted the outside of his knee with every other beat. 

"You're too precious for your own damn good," He grumbled, thumbs brushing soothing circles into your hips. "Y'know that, pup?"

Breaths falling short, it felt like your head was full of warm mud, teetering for balance on your neck as your upper body tipped forward to grasp at his arms. As expected, Leon caught you effortlessly, steadying you by cupping your face in his hands so he could look you right in your braindead little eyes, your noses almost touching as your tongue lolled out in lazy gasps.

It was obvious he wasn't going to get much more out of you in the way of words at this point, so it was a damn good thing you had that pretty tail knocking about. He figured all that wiggling was the closest he'd get to a literal window into your mind. 

"Go on, then," Leon smoothed your hair away from your sticky forehead, still mindful to hold you upright. His tone was low and, as always, far too sweet for you... but it was so nice, it vibrated down to the base of your spine and made you dizzier. You were just about to fulfill what he was encouraging you to do when he added wryly, "You've already made such a mess, don't get shy on me now." 

A quiet whimper stuttered from your dry throat-- you couldn't sit still anymore, he was being evil and he knew it, downright evil... and you typically would have stuck up your nose at him and brooded on it for a while, but you didn't even have the strength of mind for that at the moment. You hardly even realized you were already rocking your hips back and forth against the clothed meat of his thigh, nails threatening to snap under the pressure as they begged to sink past his shirt and into his muscles. 

It was pleasant, sure, but it wasn't nearly enough, especially not after hours and hours and hours of tossing and turning in his bed, rubbing yourself nearly numb with your fingers and your toys and his pillows and his clothes, aching for something tangible and warm to nurse the pain away. You let your forehead rest against his own for a moment to catch your breath, hoping to find the right angle, but you just weren't getting what you needed, and the frustration alone made your glassy eyes sting with the threat of tears. 

That just wouldn't do. 

"Oh, you really made a mess, didn't you, sweet girl?" Leon cooed sympathetically, shushing your delicate cries. Thumbs skimming over your burning cheeks, he asked quietly and carefully, "Why don't you let daddy lick it up, hm?" 

Your expression scrunched up in a weak pout and your empty little head bobbed up and down in an airy nod, and just as soon as you gave him that go-ahead, he was moving to make it so. You were on your back in seconds, Leon's broad hands spreading your plush thighs apart to make space for himself between them, and for as cool and composed as he was trying to appear right now, he couldn't help the low moan that made it past him just at the sight of you. 

Sure, he'd seen more than enough by now to guess that you were wet, but you weren't just wet, you were dripping all over yourself. It was all he could do to collect as much of you on his tongue as possible, groaning at the taste and dragging you closer by your hips until he was as close as he could get, the tip of his nose buried against the curls at the lowest point of your mound as he lapped you up with abandon.

You were writhing and crying, legs kicking out at the stimulation before drawing back up to dig into his shoulders and pull him further into you, into the mess of you. He'd managed to find it somehow, to become that something tangible and warm and redefine it, unraveling you from the root with a sanguine sense of desperation that was tempered by his undying commitment to treating you like you were made of glass. 

Your tail was curling up tight against the base of your spine, your chest was heaving for breath, you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, and he hardly could either. 

But he also couldn't stand not to. If you had the capacity to pay attention to small details, you might have noticed his eyes were just as bleary and drunk as yours were. Leon recorded your every movement in his mind like scripture from this angle, his own hips rutting down into the bed while yours bucked into his mouth, and it was only when he found the strength to pull away for air that he found a moment to reorient himself in reality. 

His lips were puffy, rosy, and slick with you as he caught his breath, two fingers toying with your puffy, aching clit in the absence of his tongue. It was almost like muscle memory for him to reach up with his free hand and pat your belly, an affectionate hum ringing from him at the near-immediate reaction it got out of you, even in a state like this. You were squirming and arching beneath him as your quivering body fought to determine priority over the attention brought by either hand, a rather endearing dilemma to have found yourself in. 

"Oh, my poor baby," Leon preened, lavishing the inside of your right thigh with kisses. "You're so cute..." 

Unable to help himself from letting you have the best of both forms of pampering, he replaced the tips of his fingers with his tongue yet again, freeing both hands to pet your soft tummy. The movements were lazy, but sure enough, your tail was going off as fast as it could while you laid there shivering and whining and clawing at him, tumbling over the edge into release before you could come up with a way to warn him first. 

As if he would have cared anyway. A warning wouldn't have changed anything. Hell, it might have even spoiled what turned out to be a dizzying moment of unabashed indulgence for him. 

Gentle, adoring hands kneading delicately at all your favorite spots, Leon willfully deprived himself of oxygen in pursuit of every drop of your syrup as it flowed from you, knowing he would come to regret being wasteful later if this should turn out to be a one-time thing. He lost himself to the throes of hedonism for several drawn out moments until he was confident you were licked clean, until he came to again and realized you had gone completely limp in the wake of your expenditure. 

Rolling over onto his back, Leon spread out just as bonelessly across the bed as you did, the both of you a sorry sight of sweat and heat. He spent several minutes trying to find a way to break the silence. With the haze of lust wearing off a bit and clearing up space in his mind for more intelligent processes, Leon was already beginning to dread the inevitable conversation this would warrant between the two of you.

Lucky for him, that was so far outside of the realm of your current train of thought... or lack thereof. You certainly felt better, but that didn't mean your brain wasn't mud anymore. Little else mattered to your muggy, muddled mind but the here and now. 

In an unexpected move, you rolled onto your side to rest your head against his chest. The way you struggled to meet his eyes was enough for him to know you were likely still struggling to talk, or maybe you just didn't really want to, but the olive branch you'd extended demonstrated your agreeable state, which was more than he could've said for you half an hour ago. 

Shit, half an hour ago he was still hoping a couple presents from his trip would win your affections, yet here he was with the taste of you lingering on his lips, your naked body curled up to him for comfort. 

Wrapping his arm tightly around you until you were tucked up comfortably into his side, Leon rested his chin atop your head and mumbled fondly, "What am I gonna do with you, huh? Can't even sleep in my own bed after a long mission 'cause this pretty little puppy made such a big mess... I hope you know how to work the washing machine."

[on-a-lucky-tide]

fun things to inflict on a pilot who bases his value on how useful he is to others:

temporary blindness >:3c

141 accidentally pierce an old mustard gas canister during an operation. Nik takes the brunt.

cw: injury, temporary blindness, distressed character.

Price paced up and down the base hospital ward wringing his hands as he waited for news, his heart in his throat. The mission had gone south so bloody quickly, and no matter how many times he retraced their steps, Price couldn't pinpoint the exact action that had caused such a monumental fuck up.

Old world war one bunker. Old old. The perfect place for a terrorist cell to store chemical weapons, or at least a lead to them. They had jumped early that morning with Nik because it was in east Germany and he had the knowledge they needed to break through the security systems. The USSR had used it as a base of operations during the Cold War, so without Nik, getting in would have been like chipping away at granite with a toothpick.

They got in. They secured the intelligence - no bloody weapons though - and were on their way out. A small detachment of enemy combatants had infiltrated through a different entrance that hadn't been recorded on the schematics they were working from. There had been an exchange of fire. A stray bullet caught a canister and...

Nik ignored the most fundamental rule of chemical warfare. You sort your own fucking mask first. But no, the stupid wanker grabbed for Gaz's first, because he was closest to the explosion and had only a split second to react.

Nik had been too slow with his own as a result.

Holding Nik in the casevac had been one of the most difficult experiences of Price's life. The skin lesions across his face had been like second degree burns, his eyes swollen shut, streaming. Anywhere there was moisture, the old gas had attacked. Despite the wounds, Price had seen the terror on his face as he tried to wrench the damp gauze off. He couldn't see.

"John, ya nye mogu videt! John... gdye ty? Gdye ty!" His usually calm, sombre voice, with its laid back drawl, broken and cracked in desperation.

In the end, Price had taken the decision to sedate him in the heli, one of those big hands clenched in his to keep him anchored as the drugs brought his heart rate under control and soothed his panic. He had lashed out at Gaz blindly - "otyebis ot menya!" - but between them they had managed to get the sedative into his thigh.

There were other wounds; bumps, scrapes, but none as serious.

"Sir, I'm sorry," Gaz had rasped, chucking the needle back into the bag. "This is my fault."

"No," Price had shaken his head. "Not your burden to carry. G'won, go eat somethin'."

The door at the end of the hall opened and the doctor summoned him with a flick of the head. "Well?" Price demanded, ignoring the pursed lipped irritation he got in return.

"It's temporary," the doctor said, his arms folding. "The gas was old, degraded. Still potent enough to cause damage, but with the right treatment, he'll get his eyesight back."

"How long?"

"Difficult to say. Four to six weeks for the skin lesions to heal. His body will decide on the rest... uh, captain," the doctor reached out a hand as Price tried to walk past, "there is a risk of long-term dyspnea, respiratory problems, awful stuff mustard gas, it attacks the central nervous system too, it can cause changes in mentation, and I understand from his file that he has a medical history of--"

"--I know what's in the file."

"We may be looking at more damage here than just his eyes. But only time will tell."

When Price stepped through the door, Nik startled, looking in his direction even though the heavy bandages over his eyes prevented him from seeing. Price spoke softly as he closed the door at his back. "S'just me, Nik. Easy."

Price nodded tightly, walked by and shouldered his way into the next ward. He found Nik's room but hesitated outside. Nik was awake. He was trying to grope around the table in front of him, searching.

"Captain, it is... well, I would say good to see you but..." He gestured vaguely at his head, his wry smirk shaky, and then that hand returned to patting around the table.

"Did they explain everything? Did you..." ...understand. Fuck, Price didn't understand half of the medical jargon, so he wouldn't be surprised if Nik struggled in his fourth language to parse what they were saying. Fourth out of eight. Asking felt like an insult to Nik's intelligence. The doctor's comment about mentation lodged in Price's throat like a shard of glass.

"Da. It will heal but there may be some future complications, I..." Nik suddenly slammed his fist against the table, anger twisting his mouth into a snarl, "..blyat, where is my phone? I need.." Nik's voice cracked and his chin tilted down with the shame of it, trailing off into miserable silence.

Price reached for him and tried not to let the resulting flinch shred his heart. Once Nik realised it was Price's hands and not whatever phantom his mind has conjured, he relaxed. Price sat down on the edge of the bed. "You don't need t' do anythin' but heal. We've got yer covered."

The way Nik's jaw twitched, teeth clenching at the back, his shoulders rising a little towards his ears; Price could see the clawing discomfort without needing to see his expression.

"You're gonna have to trust us, Nik. I need yer to trust me."

"I do," Nik croaked. "It is... This is not your burden to carry."

"Even if you weren't who you are, you still got injured in one of my operations."

"I let you down. And now I am useless." Nik's other hand clenched into a fist at his side, making the finger monitor creak under the strain.

"Temporarily out of commission. Not useless."

Nik turned his head away, refusing to hear it. They sat in silence, Price's thumb stroking back and forth over Nik's knuckles, giving him a point to focus on that wasn't his burning skin or the darkness of his vision.

"Nik, short of turnin' me over to Al Qatala, you could never let me down," Price said, finally.

Now was the time. Now Nik needed to hear it more than ever.

"You... mean the world to me. I..." he rubbed at his face, tugging at his whiskers, "...I love you. And when I saw you go down, my heart stopped for a second. The world stopped. Believe it or not, I was glad you were screamin' bloody murder in that chopper, cause that meant you were still here."

Nik drew a stuttering breath, but he didn't say anything. The man who had a one-liner or a bit of sass for every occasion sat in mute silence. It made Price ache in a way he never had before.

"'M not gonna abandon you, Nik. Wouldn't have even if this had been permanent. An' I know you don't believe me. I know. But... 'm gonna show ya. And you can grumble and cuss at me 'til the cows come home."

Nik's head fell back against the pillow and he sniffed, scowling with a muttered curse.

"You olrigh'?" Price squeezed his hand.

"Da. I am crying like little girl and it is stinging my eyes."

Price chuckled, patting their joined hands against his own thigh. "Soppy git."

That had to be a good sign. Tear ducts were what the eyes used to heal and maintain themselves, right? And he could feel the tears. Positive. This was positive. Price lifted Nik's hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, lingering there to feel the warmth of his skin.

Nik swallowed, his fingers tightening in Price's grip. "If I had known that losing my eyes would have earned me John Price, I would have cut them out years ago."

"Fuckin' 'ell, Nik," Price said incredulously, always somewhat taken aback by the intensity with which Nik expressed himself when it was just them. He sighed. "Yer've had me all this time. I just... I'm just not as brave as you are."

Nik huffed. "Bravo Six is the bravest man I know."

"Only for some things. Not feelin' particularly brave right now, and you're the one in the gurney."

Nik tilted his head towards Price, so desperate to see his face. Price was glad he couldn't. His damn eyes were watering. "Then, I will be brave for you. This, I can do without my eyes."

Price smiled and made sure Nik could feel it against his palm, promising him silently in that moment that he wouldn't waste a single second more of their time together on this bloody earth. "Sounds like a plan."

[pinkhoneydrop]

The Veil

Pairing: Sorcerer!SuguruGeto x Sorcerer!reader Genre: Smut, slight angst ifyou squint

Content warning ⚠️ : MDNI, Hair pulling, nipple play (piercings), oral (reader receiving), praise kink, degradation kink (verbal, consensual), blurred dominance/submission, mutual obsession, first-time encounter, shared control, body worship, mental health issues (if you squint)

A/N - Trying out some new writing :) it’s my first time writing for Jujutsu Kaisen at all so let me know what yall think!

The water falling from the shower was hot and even as it burned Suguru’s skin he turned the heat up more. His muscles tense after weeks of consuming curses. His throat raw and his stomach-churning day after day. No one should feel this way at 27. Suguru looked down at his body. Lean, built muscle and faded scars, evidence of spending his formative years getting stronger. Looking further, he noticed flaws that only he was acutely aware of. He looked at his hands and sighed. Veins, more pronounced from the heat and palms red from the high temperature of the water.

He noticed other things too. Well, he remembered what you noticed about him. The bulge of his muscles under his lightly tanned skin and how your hands pressed into them. The path they paved down his abdomen. The smattering of soft hair under his navel and the feeling of your soft tongue going lower and lower. Suguru’s hands followed the path of memories down the front of his body. Sometimes when you looked at him, he knows you saw past his physical form. You saw his struggle. The want and the desperation. You saw his mental fight and his losses. His soul.

As he tugged and pulled at the sensitive skin he huffed against the tile. Suguru thought about you still, two years later. He pretended that his large hand was your smaller delicate one running through his locks of raven hair scratching at his scalp and tugging. The locks fell over his shoulders and soaked up the water falling down. The moisture making his hair like ink over white paper. He tried to replicate your grip as he pulled and his head fell back. Lips parting with a gasp and his other hand stroking fast. He came even faster. His abdomen tightening and his length twitching in his hand. He wished he could find you.

[two years earlier]

“The Veil.” Hidden deep in Tokyo’s nightlife district, was a sorcerer, owned, sorcerer, protected, and sorcerer frequented lounge. A haven between battles. Low lighting, deep crimson velvet furniture, and spell work woven through the sound system to keep the atmosphere charged but safe. Rumor had it the music thrummed with cursed energy. just enough to keep things interesting. Suguru didn’t come often. But that night, he needed quiet chaos. Something to distract him. And that’s when he found it.

You.

Dancing in the center of the lounge’s sunken floor, bare skin kissed by red and amber light. You weren’t showing off, but you didn’t have to. The way your hips moved to the slow, dirty rhythm of the bass was devastating. Like you knew exactly how to haunt someone without ever touching them.

Suguru stopped dead, drink still in his hand, dark eyes locked on you like you were a curse he wanted to let consume him. You weren’t dressed to show off, but the way your hips rolled, the way you moved like you belonged to yourself, was magnetic. Addicting. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but his drink had gone untouched for at least ten minutes. And when did you catch him staring?

You didn’t look away.

You just smiled.

He turned his head and swirled the dark liquor in his glass. Sorcerers moved like shadows here, tension shedding from their shoulders in low laughter, the occasional flare of cursed energy tucked beneath smiles and half, drunk drinks. Suguru nursed his glass, eyes still fixed on the dance floor watching all the bodies. He might have been more careful if he was sober but eventually his gaze landed on you again. You caught him watching you again. And this time, you didn’t just smile. You walked toward him.

“Didn’t think you were the lurking type,” you said over the music, voice a little breathless, cheeks flushed from dancing. “You’ve been watching me like you’re waiting for something.”

Suguru smirked, lazy but warm. “Maybe I am.”

You tilted your head, leaning closer. “What is it?”

He hesitated, not from lack of words, but too many of them.

Don’t say something vulnerable. Don’t tell her she moves like something you used to dream about before things got dark. Don’t invite her into your mess.

Don’t come on too strong.

So, he said the easier thing.

“You dance like you want to be followed.” He knew it could have been interpreted wrong as soon as he said it but you surprised him. You laughed. really laughed, and that sound cracked something in his chest.

“I didn’t think anyone here was brave enough.” You say smoothly.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not afraid of much.”

“No?” you asked, stepping in closer, bodies just shy of touching. “Then follow me out.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes. A hesitation that didn’t reach his smile. He could take you to his place, it was quiet, private, safer in some ways. But he didn’t want to see the look in your eyes when you noticed how bare it was. How cold. How nothing in it looked lived, in.

Don’t let her see the wreckage. Let her think you’re just another man who enjoys watching pretty women dance.

So, when you asked, “My place?” voice coy, curious, he just nodded.

“Lead the way.”

You just reached for his hand. No warning, no glance back, just your fingers curling around his, warm and sure, and Suguru let you take it. He lets you lead him without asking where. His hand was big around yours, his grip loose at first, almost surprised. But he didn’t pull away. He followed.

Through the haze of The Veil’s floor, past the velvet, lined bar and the clusters of half-drunk sorcerers hunched over low, lit tables. The music pulsed around you like a heartbeat, but all he could hear was your steps ahead of him, the sound of your heels clicking soft against the floor, and the way your dress moved when you walked.

He couldn’t stop watching you from behind.

The sway of your hips. The curve of your bare shoulders. The quiet confidence in every movement, like you knew he was watching, and wanted him to.

Of course she does, he thought, lips twitching. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

But there was something more to it than that. It wasn’t just lust, it was curiosity. The kind that made his chest feel too full. The kind that made him want to know everything about you all at once, and not at all.

When you pushed through the club’s back exit into the night, the air hits sharp and cool. You let go of his hand, but only for a second. Then you turned, facing him under the warmth of the streetlights, and raised your eyebrows like Well?

Suguru stepped in close, brushing the small of your back like instinct.

Without saying a word, he pulled out his phone and called the first cab that came up.

You tilted your head. “That quick?”

“I don’t like you standing out here longer than necessary,” he said simply. His voice was calm, but there was something firmer in it now, grounded. Quietly protective.

You didn’t argue.

You just smiled, lips tugging at the corner as you turned back toward the street, his hand still hovering close behind you, like he didn’t want to touch unless he had to.

But if he did?

He’d be ready.

The night air wrapped around you like silk, cool, clean, but thrumming with leftover heat from the club. You stood just beneath the streetlamp, your head tilted back slightly, eyes closed for a moment like you were catching your breath. Suguru watched you from a step away, one hand still in his coat pocket, the other loosely curled at his side like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull you in or keep letting you lead. You glanced over your shoulder, catching him watching again.

“What?” you asked, soft but smug.

He smirked. “Didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You stepped closer, slow, until your bodies were nearly touching again. The toe of your shoe brushed his, and your hand, light, almost playful, ghosted along the hem of his shirt. Just enough to make him feel it. Just enough to make him want more. Suguru’s eyes dropped to your mouth.

 “You always this dangerous?”

You shrugged one shoulder, lashes dipping.

“You always this easy to pull out of a corner?”

He chuckled, breath catching slightly when your fingers grazed his waistband. “No,” he said honestly.

“Just tonight.”

You let that settle between you.

Then you lifted your hand, gentle, unhurried, and brushed his hair back behind his ear, your fingertips trailing down the side of his neck. His jaw tensed, but he didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“You look better like this,” you murmured. “When you’re not pretending to be unbothered.”

Suguru tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

 “And you look better when you’re not trying so hard to act like this doesn’t have your heart racing.”

You smiled. Because he was right. He reached for your hand, not to hold it, just to touch, thumb brushing along your knuckles with a softness that betrayed the heat in his eyes. The cab’s headlights cut across the street a moment later, and the sound of tires rolling up to the curb broke the tension just enough to make you both exhale.

But neither of you moved.

Not right away.

“I could kiss you right now,” he murmured. Not cocky. Not demanding. Just real.

You leaned in just slightly, close enough for your lips to brush his. “You could. But I’d rather let you earn it.”

That made his grin tilt just crooked enough to be dangerous. He stepped back, finally, his hand lingering at your waist for one more second before he turned to the cab. Opened the door for you without a word, eyes locked on yours.

“After you,” he said, voice like a promise wrapped in silk and smoke. You stepped past him, your body brushing his, and he didn’t move. He just watched you sink into the seat, lips parted, eyes heavy. And when he got in after you, the door shutting behind him, the night didn’t feel cool anymore. It felt like the start of something dangerous. The cab door shut with a solid thud behind him, sealing you both inside the quiet hum of the city’s dark lull. The driver didn’t say a word, just pulled into the street like he already knew not to disturb whatever this was.

You shifted slightly in your seat, knees brushing his. His thigh was warm against yours, his hands resting on either side of him like he didn’t know what to do with them. Or maybe he did and was just choosing to behave.

For now.

Neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, it was thick. Weighty in the best way. Like even your breath didn’t want to come too loud. You glanced over at him from beneath your lashes. He was watching the city slide past the window, one hand coming up to rest lightly against his jaw. His fingers grazed his bottom lip for a moment like he was thinking too hard or trying not to think at all.

“Regretting it yet?” you asked, voice low, teasing.

He turned toward you, and the cab’s passing headlights lit his face in flashes, sharp cheekbones, parted lips, tired eyes made soft by the way he looked at you. His gaze dropped to your mouth before sliding back up.

“No,” he said. “Not even a little.”

You didn’t say anything, just leaned your head back against the seat, letting your fingers drift lazily along your thigh. He followed the movement with his eyes, but didn’t reach for you.

Yet.

You could feel it, though, the way his body angled subtly toward yours, like his restraint was wearing thin.

“You never told me your name,” you murmured after a pause, still not looking directly at him.

He blinked. Then huffed a quiet laugh, like it had genuinely slipped his mind.

“Suguru,” he said, his voice smoother now, softened around the edges.

You repeated it in your head, Suguru. Let it roll around in your mouth like a secret you hadn’t been told until now. You looked over and met his eyes.

“I’m Y/n.”

He studied you for a moment. He remined silent, still, before his lips curved into something quiet.

“I know,” he said. You raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t know.” I chuckle.

“I do,” he murmured, voice just above a whisper. “You couldn’t be anything else.”

And somehow that landed in your chest like a stone dropped into water, small, soft, but deep. You didn’t press. You didn’t ask what he meant. You just let your thigh stay pressed to his, fingers brushing his briefly in the space between you. And when he curled his pinky around yours like it was nothing? You didn’t move away. The weight of his pinky curled around yours should’ve been harmless.

It was light. Barely a touch. But it felt like a fuse, like he’d lit something just beneath your skin. You turned your head slightly. He was already looking at you.

You hadn’t moved, hadn’t even breathed too deeply, but the weight of that tiny connection buzzed all the way up your arm, settling somewhere low in your stomach. You glanced over at him. He was already watching you. Not shamelessly, but like he couldn’t help it. Like something about you was pulling.

Neither of you said anything. But the silence between you was starting to bend under its own weight. You shifted your hand slightly, just enough for your pinky to slide between two of his fingers, and that small change broke something open.

He moved first. Turned toward you slowly, one hand lifting to brush your jaw. His fingertips were careful, almost unsure, like he didn’t know if he was allowed to be gentle like this.

“C’mere,” he murmured, barely above the rumble of the road beneath you.

It wasn’t a command. It was an invitation. You leaned in, and your lips met his. soft, slow, and warm. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just curious. The kiss tasted like quiet tension, like held breath and city lights and something deeper neither of you had named yet. His lips moved against yours with surprising restraint, like he didn’t want to startle it, didn’t want to ruin the stillness of it.

His thumb brushed your cheek. You sighed into his mouth, tilting your head just enough to let him deepen it slightly, not desperate, just achingly intentional. When you pulled back, barely, your noses still touched. Your breath mingled in the space between. Suguru’s voice was low. Soft. Almost reverent.

“…yeah,” he said. “I needed that.”

You smiled, lips tingling. “So did I.”

for a second, everything was quiet again. But this time, it was full. Heavy with knowing. The space between you didn’t feel like space anymore. It felt like friction. Like if either of you moved even an inch, you’d fall straight into it. His eyes dropped to your lips again, then to your legs, still crossed close against his. the hem of your skirt tugged slightly higher than it had been when you got in. You didn’t shift to fix it. And Suguru, he didn’t fight the hunger in his gaze this time. You licked your lips without thinking. His jaw flexed.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, voice low and strained.

“Not before I ruin you first,” you whispered back and that was it.

His hand left the seat and slid to your thigh, fingertips brushing up slowly, reverently, like he was still giving you the chance to stop him. You didn’t. You leaned into him instead, lips barely brushing his ear.

“Do it.”

His grip tightened. His other hand slid behind your neck, pulling you in. and then he kissed you again. But this time, it was nothing like the first. This was filthy. Deep and hungry, all tongue and heat and breathless little gasps. His hand was sliding higher under your skirt now, just brushing the inside of your thigh, teasing, never quite reaching where you needed him.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to earn a low groan into your mouth. You felt him twitch in his slacks, felt the way his hips shifted slightly toward you like his restraint was teetering. You were both panting now, mouths barely parting between kisses, your hands under his shirt, nails scraping across his stomach as his lips moved down to your jaw.

Then,

Tap tap.

The cab pulled up to the curb. You both froze, still tangled together, his hand under your skirt, your fingers in his hair, breathing like you’d just run through a storm. Suguru laughed under his breath, voice hoarse as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Saved by the bell.”

You smirked, brushing your nose against his. “Don’t think we’re done.”

He opened the door, eyes still on you, and said with a soft, wicked grin,

“Not even close.”

Then he stepped out, offered his hand, and helped you out like he hadn’t just been ready to fuck you in the backseat. Gentle. Composed. But his fingers didn’t let go of yours. Not until you were both inside. And the door closed behind you.

The air in your apartment was thick with anticipation. Actually, that might have just been him. The anxiety of not knowing what was next ate at his mind as the desperation for touch pushed him towards you. Neither of you had said much since the cab ride over, just traded glances, fingertips brushing occasionally, both of you simmering in something unspoken. Something hot and a little dangerous. You kicked off your shoes with a quiet laugh, glancing over your shoulder as you dropped your keys onto the counter.

“You always this quiet after following a woman home?”

Suguru leaned against the wall just inside, gaze sweeping the space. It smelled like warmth. Lived in. A little candle wax. A hint of vanilla. You.

“I’m just trying to figure you out,” he said. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Disappointed?” you teased, walking back toward him.

He shook his head slowly. “The opposite.”

You stopped in front of him, just a breath of space between you. He looked even taller up close. Colder, maybe. But not in a cruel way, more like he carried something heavy and didn’t want to put it down yet.

“You’re hard to read,” you murmured.

“I like keeping it that way.”

You stepped closer to him. your fingers brushing against his shirt. “I bet you do.”

You wanted him to relax, to let go of whatever he was holding onto. To unpack it. He didn’t move when you touched him, but you felt the way his muscles tensed, the way his breath slowed as your fingers ghosted along his collarbone. You tilted your head slightly, eyes flicking up to meet his. He was beautiful, actually. Suguru stood in the soft lamplight by the entryway, his black coat hanging open, hair half-up and half-loose, strands falling around his face in a way that looked too effortless to be fair. He wasn’t looking at her, just taking in the space quietly, his fingers flexing slightly like he didn’t quite know where to put them.

She looked at him. Really looked. He was beautiful, sharper than he had any right to be. All angles and contrasts. The dark sweep of his lashes against lightly tanned skin, the faint line of a scar at his jaw, the way his mouth stayed soft even when his eyes didn’t. But there was something else, too. Something simmering just beneath the stillness of him. Like a shadow curled up behind his ribs. Like the moment he let his shoulders drop, whatever he was holding back would spill out. hot, sharp, too much.

She could feel it.

It pulsed in the air between them. Not dangerous, not yet but weighty. Familiar in a way she didn’t want to name. He turned then, just slightly and caught her looking. His eyes held hers for a beat too long. And instead of pulling away, she stepped closer. Not asking. Not prying. Just letting him be here, in the quiet, in her space, in her gaze. And for the first time all night, Suguru breathed like it was okay to let the edges of him tremble.

“I want to know what you sound like when you’re not trying to be mysterious.” I say softly.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, voice deep and dark, eyes roaming your mouth. Suguru chuckled, low and rich.

You smirked, tugging at the front of his shirt. “You stared at me like you wanted it.”

“I still do.”

Then he kissed you. Hard. Deep. Like he was trying to figure you out with his tongue. You kissed him back just as fiercely, one hand tangling in the back of his hair, the other sliding under his shirt, dragging your nails lightly across the lean muscle of his stomach. He groaned against your mouth like he hadn’t been touched like that in years. Well, he hadn’t been touched like that ever.

You moaned softly into it, fingers sliding up the back of his neck, tangling in the thick strands of his hair.

That was his undoing.

He groaned, a real one, deep in his chest and pressed you back against the nearest wall, body flush with yours now, his knee sliding between your thighs.

“You don’t know what that does to me,” he whispered into your mouth.

“I don’t,” you breathed. “But I’m dying to find out.”

The sound he made was sinful.

“Bedroom?” He asked, voice raspy, mouth still hot against your breast.

“Down the hall,” you said, already tugging him toward it.

And the whole way there, he thought:

Don’t ask questions. Don’t ask to stay. Just let her ruin you for a night and don’t pretend you don’t want more.

You barely made it through the bedroom doorway before Suguru caught your wrist, spun you, and pressed you back against the door with a thud. His eyes were darker now, stormy with lust and something heavier. Not dangerous. Not quite. But close.

“You like being in charge?” he murmured, one hand sliding up your thigh, pressing his body flush to yours.

“Sometimes,” you breathed. “But I like being wanted more.”

He chuckled, low and wrecked. “Then you’re in luck.”

His mouth was on yours again, hot, urgent, more tongue this time. Less polite. He licked into you like he was trying to memorize your taste, groaning when your teeth scraped his bottom lip. You pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and he let it fall to the floor. You tugged his shirt free from his pants and dragged your nails along his bare stomach, and the way his abdominal muscles twitched under your touch made you smile into the kiss.

Suguru pulled back, just enough to look down at you. His hand curled around the hem of your top. He kissed you again, slower this time. But firmer. Hands slipping under your shirt, brushing against bare skin. You arched into his touch, and his palms slid up, finding the curve of your ribs. Your hips bumped into the bed frame and you laughed breathlessly, just before he backed you onto the mattress and hovered over you.

“You’re fucking stunning,” he said, voice a little rough now, pupils blown. His hands reached for your top, paused, asking without words. You pulled it off yourself and there they were. Nipple piercings, gleaming under the low light. Suguru stopped. Just stared.

His breath caught in his throat like you’d just punched it out of him. “Holy shit,” he whispered, the reverence in his tone making your skin burn. He ran his thumbs gently over them, eyes locked to your face, watching your reaction. The metal was cool against his skin, the flesh beneath already heating.

“Sensitive?” he asked, teasing now. You could hear the smirk curling into his voice.

You nodded, just a little too eager.

His grin widened.

Then he ducked down, slow, and took one into his mouth.

You gasped.

His tongue flicked against the barbell with perfect pressure, alternating between light sucks and hot, open, mouthed kisses across your chest. One hand cupped the other breast, his thumb circling lazily over the second piercing while he devoured the first.

You fisted your hand in his hair.

He groaned, loud, desperate, against your skin, grinding his hips down against your thigh. You could feel how hard he was through his slacks.

You tugged his hair harder. “Feel good?” you murmured.

His breath hitched. “More than I want to admit.”

There was a pause. Tension so thick it made your toes curl.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he muttered, cupping one breast, running his thumb gently over the barbell. “I already feel it.”

You tilted your head. “So dramatic.”

“I’m a little unhinged,” he said with a slow grin. “You’ll get used to it.”

He ducked down, took one nipple into his mouth, and sucked hard, before swirling his tongue across the sensitive peak. He walked you to the end of your bed. A popping sound was heard before kissed up your chest. He paused and looked at you for a moment. You kissed again, this time slower, deeper, bodies tangled at the edge of the bed. You climbed up first, sitting back against the pillows like an invitation.

He followed, not even bothering to take off his shirt. You tugged at the hem.

“Let me see.”

He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want you to. But because part of him, buried deep under the ego, the flirtation, the performance, was scared of being seen. He lifted it anyway. And when your eyes dragged over the scars and sharp planes of his torso, you didn’t ask. Didn’t say what happened here or who did this or what are you running from. You just pulled him in and kissed the edge of his jaw, one hand sliding down to cup him through his pants.

He hissed. “You don’t play fair.”

“You don’t play soft,” you countered.

He smiled, just barely. But it faltered just as fast. Because this wasn’t just about sex for him, not entirely. It wasn’t just about the way you looked or how you smelled or how your body felt under his hands. It was about needing to forget. Needing someone to give him a place to land. Even just for a night.

She doesn’t know you. Don’t ruin this. Don’t let her see what’s underneath it all. You don’t get to be saved.

Then you pulled off your top fully and when he saw the metal glint of your nipple piercings, his breath caught. Not because he hadn’t seen it before. But because the way you looked, back arched, proud, eyes locked on his, like you knew you were beautiful, it gutted him. He swallowed hard.

“You’re something else,” he muttered, reaching to cup one breast. His thumb grazed the barbell, and you shivered beneath him.

“Am I intimidating you?”

“No,” he said, but his voice cracked a little. “You just make me forget I’m not supposed to want anything good.”

You stilled. Just for a second. Lips parted like you were going to disagree. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t say you deserve good things. Because you didn’t know. You reached for him. Fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently, grounding him in the now. Suguru moaned actually moaned and pressed his face against your chest, kissing between your breasts like he was hiding there.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Let me take care of you. Let me have you.”

“Then have me.” Your voice lilted.

Suguru took his time. He wanted to collect you. Pick you up and keep you on a shelf to admire. He started with your lips, kissed you slow and deep, savoring the way you melted into him like you wanted to be undone. Then his mouth drifted down, tracing the line of your jaw, then lower, pressing warm, open, mouthed kisses to your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your chest. His tongue flicked one of your piercings again, and the breath you let out sent heat straight to his gut.

“Fuck, you’re…” He pulled back just enough to look at you, really look. Your chest rising and falling under him, your mouth parted, eyes dark with want. “…you’re ridiculous,” he murmured.

You arched a brow. “That your way of calling me beautiful?”

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s my way of telling you I think you’re ruinous.”

And you were.

The kind of beauty that made his ribs hurt. The kind that made him forget why he’d spent so long pretending not to want things. You didn’t know how dangerous that made you. His mouth continued down your body, lips brushing the soft skin beneath your ribs, the dip of your waist, the curve of your hip. You reached down, pushed a lock of his hair behind his ear, and whispered.

“You’re beautiful too, you know.”

He paused, eyes flicking up at you like he didn’t know what to do with that. But he didn’t speak. He just kissed the inside of your thigh, slow, reverent, and let his breath spill warm over your skin.

Then another kiss.

Then another.

As if worshiping his way toward your core was the only thing in the world that made sense anymore.

Suguru kissed a path down your stomach, tongue tracing the lines of heat he left behind. When he reached the waistband of your skirt, he slowed, exhaled, and rested his hands on your hips, just holding. Still.

“Can I?” he asked, voice quieter than before. A little rougher. Like he wasn’t used to asking for things he wanted.

You nodded, breath soft. “Yeah.”

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband and slowly, so slowly, peeled the fabric down your hips. His knuckles brushed your skin, his lips followed the trail, and his eyes never left you. You lifted your hips to help him, and he dragged the skirt down first, then your underwear, inch by inch. Not like he was teasing. Like he was memorizing. And when he finally had you bare before him, legs still gently closed, thighs pressed together under his gaze, he paused.

Not out of hesitation.

Out of awe.

His hands returned to your knees, thumbs stroking slow, deliberate circles as he looked at you like he wasn’t sure he deserved to see you like this.

“Y/n…”

The way he said your name, like it hurt and healed him all at once, sent a flutter through your stomach.

You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs. You could see it in his chest, how his breath stuttered, how the heat in his eyes had deepened into something deeper than just lust. He gently coaxed your legs apart, spreading your thighs with care, like unwrapping something delicate, sacred.

And when he saw all of you?

His lips parted. Barely. And he breathed out the quietest, filthiest sound of admiration.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You’re… unreal.”

His breath caught low in his chest, eyes glued to the wet, glistening heat between your thighs. You were soaked. Slick and swollen. So goddamn ready for him.

Suguru blinked, his throat bobbing around a hard swallow. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he muttered, barely above a breath. His voice was reverent, but wrecked, like the sight of you had sucker punched the composure right out of him. He hadn’t expected to lose it this fast. Your pussy was flushed and dripping, the lips parted just slightly like your body was already begging to be devoured. And gods, he wanted to. He needed to. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and dragged his fingers up the inside of your thigh. They stopped just shy of touching your slick heat, trembling slightly.

“Fuck, baby… you’re messy already?”

His voice dropped an octave, hunger tightening it to something primal. You watched him, cheeks flushed, thighs twitching under the weight of his stare. But you didn’t hide. Didn’t close up. Because he was beautiful, too. Crouched between your legs, shirt long gone, dark hair falling over his shoulders like silk. Hands steady, gaze starved. Like he didn’t know whether he was about to worship you or beg for you to ruin him.

“Fucking hell… You’re glistening.”

Then his eyes met yours, dark, hungry, and completely undone.

“You look like you’re about to pray,” you said softly, fingers brushing his jaw.

“I might,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “If you let me.”

You smiled, your breath catching as his lips moved higher.

“Then pray.”

And with that, he lowered his mouth toward you, like this was a sin he’d never ask forgiveness for. He looked up at you, eyes darker than before, not cold. Just lost.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked as he was face deep between your legs. Purple eyes peering up at you. You took in a deep breath as the sight. In your mind as hazy as it was there was no other answer.

“Stop asking.” The words came out airy as you took in a deep breath. You nodded as he dove forward. His tongue finding your clit and licking softly to tease you. Soft moans left your lips as you drag your palms down your body. Fingers touching soft locks and you gripped hard. your hands found his hair. Thick black hair surrounded your fingers as he dipped his tongue further to really taste you. Delicate moans left his plush lips only getting louder as you tugged harder.

The skin between your thighs was damp. The skin was sticky and Suguru couldn’t leave if he tried. Your legs were pressed to his ears as you moaned out in pleasure.

“Oh Fuck.” You barely spoke above a whisper as Suguru sucked hard in your nerves. Swiping his tongue back and forth. Over, and over, and over. Your breath stuck in your throat causing you to groan and pull at his hair. Shaky groans and curses leave him as he dives deeper. The tension on his scalp from your pretty manicured nails was sending him into a blizzard of pleasure.

“Oh, you like that, huh baby?” You breathed out just barely loud enough for him to hear over the squelching of your juices and his saliva. Both of which coat his lips. You take a fistful of his hair and pull back. His eyebrows furrow at the sting but a loud moan betrays him. He licks his lips and his eyes lift to you despite feeling heavy. He nodded slowly and hummed in response. His lips and tongue moving in perfect, sinful rhythm.

“I love it,” he gasped against you. Deep voice cracked open, honest.

“Use me, Y/n. Let me drown in you.”

You tugged again, and he shuddered his entire body trembling beneath the force of it. His voice was nothing but broken murmurs now, praise tangled with pleasure:

“So, fucking sweet…You taste like heaven. Let me make you come. Please, please let me…”

Suguru Geto didn’t beg. But here he was, falling apart between your thighs, mouth wet and desperate, eyes wild with the need to please you. And gods, he did. Every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his lips, was perfectly tuned to you. His name fell from your mouth like a litany, each gasp punctuated by the sharp tug of his hair as you clung to him, grounding yourself in his desperation.

“Suguru, don’t stop, don’t…”

He didn’t. If anything, your words made him more feral. He gripped your thighs, held you open. His tongue explored and discovered new parts of you. Soft velvety and tender. He moaned into you and kissed at your thighs. locked eyes with you through the strands of hair you hadn’t pulled away and devoured you. Like you were sacred. Like you were his temple.

Your thigh muscles twitched and he took that as an invitation to pull you closer. His large hands spread and wrapped around your legs. His biceps flexed and he pulled. Your body easily slid in his direction and he settled again between your thighs.

You flexed your fingers as you looked down. He kissed your pink clit and sucked it into his mouth. The next drag and dip of his tongue against you was deliberate. He moaned low against your skin, the sound deep and shaken, and you felt it travel through you. It made your skin buzz like an electrical current. He didn’t rush learning a long time ago that patience was very valuable. He licked you like he was starving, but not desperate, devoted. Like this was a ritual. A prayer. An escape.

His hair fell over his face as he lowered his head, and you reached for it on instinct, twisting your fingers through the dark strands, tugging them back so you could see all of him. That beautiful, flushed expression. Those half, lidded, reverent eyes. The way his lips parted just before he,

“Fuck, Suguru.” The whine was ripped from your chest and he dragged it out of you with a harsh suck. You pulled his hair harder, and he groaned into you, hips twitching against the bed.

“You really do like that.” you whispered, voice breathless.

When you finally came it snuck up on you. At first it was a dull ache behind the pleasure. A small reminder that there was a limit on all good things. Suguru could sense it before you even started reacting. He gripped your thighs tighter and pressed against you. You whimpered as his tongue licked and pushed into you. Your thighs fell further apart and your abdominal muscles tightened.

He pushed you so fucking close to the edge you didn’t remember how you got there for a second. A high, pitched sound left your lips and your chest filled with air as your muscles tightened even more. He licked upwards and peered at you through thick lashes and inky tendrils that fell out of your grasp.

Then he brought you back down. The pressure lessened and your body simmered under his touch. Sharp whines left your lips hot, slow licks teased you open, kisses that lingered too long, like he was savoring each inch of you, committing your taste to memory. He nuzzled closer, tongue flattening against your clit and dragging up slowly, and the sound he made when you gasped went straight to your spine.

He moaned into you. Loud. Shameless. Wrecked.

His hands spread your thighs wider as he buried himself deeper, eating you like a man starving, like your pussy was the only thing tethering him to this goddamn earth.

“Fuck…” he breathed, lips brushing your clit as he pulled back to look at you. His chin was slick, his mouth red, voice nearly gone. “You taste like fucking sugar.”

He dove back in before you could say a word, tongue circling, flicking, sucking your clit like he knew exactly how to unravel you.

And he did.

He was groaning into your cunt like every moan was a praise, every lick a prayer. His name spilled from your lips over and over, and the way your thighs trembled just made him hungrier.

“Look at you,” he growled against you. “Dripping all over my fucking face… You hear that? That’s what I want. That messy little sound your pussy makes when she’s desperate for my tongue.”

You whined, hips grinding into his mouth, chasing the friction, and he let you. Let you use him, let you rock against his face while he licked you faster, deeper, practically sucking your soul out through your clit. He was a mess now, his hair tangled in your fingers, breath ragged between licks, and when you tugged his hair hard, he moaned so loud it vibrated through your entire core.

“Fuck, there it is, there she is,” he growled as your body started to shudder, your breath catching in short, broken gasps.

“Come on,” he whispered, tongue relentless now. “Let me feel it. Come on my mouth, now.”

And when you broke? When you came with a cry, thighs squeezing around his head, hips stuttering against his tongue? Suguru groaned like he was coming too, like your orgasm was something he could feel in his bones. He didn’t stop. Not right away. He licked you through every wave, every twitch, every desperate gasp, devouring you like he didn’t care if he ever came up for air. And when he finally did? His mouth was glistening.

His voice was shredded.

And his eyes? Wrecked. Worshipful. Like he’d seen something holy.

He witnessed your spine arching, a cry ripping from your throat, thighs trembling around his head he didn’t stop. He held you through it, eyes fluttering closed as if he were the one falling over the edge. His moan vibrated against you, lips wet with your release, and he whispered.

“That’s it… that’s my girl…”

You collapsed back, breathless, chest heaving, and he just laid there between your legs, forehead resting on your thigh, arms wrapped around you like he needed to stay close. You loosened your grip on his hair, running your fingers gently through the tangled strands now, and he sighed, low and soft, like the storm had finally passed inside him.

The room was still heavy with heat, your heartbeat still echoing in your ears, but the world had slowed.

Suguru hadn’t moved.

He was still draped across your legs, cheek resting on the inside of your thigh, arms lazily looped around your hips like he couldn’t stand the idea of letting go. His breath tickled your skin in slow, warm waves, and every exhale sounded just a little softer than the one before.

You ran your fingers through his hair, gentle now. No more pulling. Just slow strokes through the silk, dark strands, untangling what you’d wrapped around your fingers moments before. He didn’t say anything at first. Just melted into the touch like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

“I didn’t mean to…” you started, but your voice was too quiet. You swallowed, tried again. “Did I take it too far?”

His response was immediate. His lips pressed against your skin, soft and reverent.

“No,” he said, voice low and worn, like honey poured over gravel. “You gave me exactly what I needed.”

You traced his temple, watched the way his lashes fluttered under your touch.

“You were shaking.”

“I still am,” he admitted. And when he lifted his head to look at you, his face flushed, lips swollen, hair messy, you felt something ache in your chest. He looked so human. And so beautifully undone.

[skmhlml]

Iron golem x player but this time it created by player not villager and imagine player had full control on it You can tell it to do whatever you want it well do, you can treat it like anything you see it fit..maybe a little pushiment

(I sorry if this makes you can't sleep tonight 🙃)

(BTW don't rush yourself! You don't need to Rushing it takes your time ^_^)

Note: alright! Let’s get into it! Had a 2 hour and 30min Power Nap, half the stress melting away and I’m ready to get my moisture started sweatpants off!

Date: 5/25/2025

Warning: (INAHALE)

𝑰𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝑮𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒎 𝑿 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓

This golem wasn’t just assembled—it was forged with intent. Maybe you used a forbidden enchantment, or ancient Redstone tech, or infused it with a soul shard. It is conscious, aware, and tied to you on a deeper level. It feels your commands like impulses in its core.

It will do anything you say—no questions, no hesitation. If you tell it to destroy a town, it will. If you order it to kneel, it obeys. If you ask it to stand still and be your seat while you rest from battle, it lowers itself silently.

You can program it to feel—not like a human, but in a strange, uncanny mimicry. “Be ashamed.” It lowers its head. “Show pride.” It puffs its chest. “Beg.” Its deep, gravelly voice echoes as it tries, clumsily, to imitate the tone you desire.

You don’t just use the golem—you show it off. When you enter a PvP arena, it follows at your side like a monstrous sentinel. Other players stare. You smirk. Some may challenge your control over it… and they learn quickly how foolish that is.

You’ve installed a punishment system—not because the golem disobeys, but because you want to see it submit. You make it hold heavy blocks above its head for hours. You bind it in Redstone traps just to watch it writhe. It doesn’t resist. It can’t.

The golem doesn’t “feel” like a living being, but it receives magical input through the player’s emotional state and direct contact. When you touch it, especially near the chest core or carved runes, it processes sensation as pleasure-signaling energy. Think of it like magical biofeedback: warmth, pulsing, low humming—its version of arousal.

Warm brushed steel, smooth at rest but subtly ridged with magical seams. Warms in your presence, glowing faintly around key runes. Its eyes and core change hue—from dull orange to bright, molten red—depending on your emotional closeness. Ozone, faintly metallic, sometimes like rain on stone. Breathy furnace hums, rune-pulsing vibrations—almost like music if you’re close enough to hear.

This golem isn’t your average mindless automaton. You gave it a bit too much free will during creation and now it’s got opinions. Loud ones.

It doesn’t give a damn why you want something done—it just does it. Someone pisses you off in town? Say the word, and the Golem’s already walking over, fists clenched like anvils, eyes glowing like someone lit a fuse.

It doesn’t talk much. Sometimes it growls when it’s pissed or groans when bored. If someone gets too close to you, it’ll stare them down with glowing, soulless eyes until they back off. Some say they hear low grinding noises—like it’s chewing on the idea of flattening them.

You’ve shoved it before—out of frustration, or just for fun. It didn’t move at first. Then it chuckled. A deep, metallic rattle that sounded like a furnace coughing. After that, it started following you even closer, like it wanted to be bossed around. Like it liked the heat.

Even standing still, it dominates a space. Arms crossed, looming like a beast on a leash. Everyone else steps aside when it walks by. You don’t. You command it. And when you get close? It lowers itself, ever so slightly, to your level. It yields—only for you.

Punishment and Control Games.You’ve experimented with denying it tasks—“No, you don’t get to follow me today.” It twitches. It hates it. You once chained it to the fencepost outside your base “for disobedience.” It didn’t resist. It just stared at you, glowing eyes flickering like it wanted to be punished more.

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

In Transformers Prime, Cybertronians are apparently vulnerable to extreme cold. (“You know prolonged exposure to sub-zero conditions can cause permanent system damage.” -Ratchet, S1 E7)

They are in danger of freezing when they go to the Arctic which continuously becomes a plot point, but somehow handle themselves just fine in space which is definitely way colder. Which leads me to believe it’s probably not the cold itself that’s dangerous to them, but the moisture in the air that freezes up around all their joints and crevices that immobilizes them.

The humidity in the Arctic is actually quite low, but in a snowstorm (like the one we see in S1 E7 where Optimus and Arcee nearly die) the snow that hits their bodies could totally melt from their body heat only to re-freeze around them as clear ice, expediting the process. It would gradually make it more and more difficult to move.

It’s like the clear icing that planes encounter when they fly through moist air, where supercooled water droplets freeze on their surfaces and make it difficult to move the control surfaces on the wings. Which is why I imagine flyers are probably more resistant to the cold+moisture conditions, since they already have built-in anti icing. Starscream does complain about the cold a lot in S2 E13, but that might just be Starscream being Starscream, or just trying to manipulate the others into letting their guard down. Dreadwing and the flying vehicons don’t appear very bothered, but then again neither does Optimus, so that one is staying as a headcanon for now. Maybe Starscream is bothered because he doesn’t have paint for extra insulation.

Optimus does say “the current temperatures are not extreme enough to affect our biology.” during that episode, and when he does there’s only a little bit of snow, which might confirm that when they say “temperature” they actually mean “moisture”. I don’t know.

[opstechsanjana]

Moisture Control System Installation | Cotton ginning moisture system in Africa

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Sonny Carisi Comfort 19x19 

This is dedicated to @polkadotpenguin16! Merry late Christmas love. We got some Sonny comfort.

You opened the door to Sonny’s apartment and watched him shuffle inside. He had been silent the entire way home. The only thing he had said to you in the hospital was a lackluster, “I’m okay,” as he sat on an exam table with his shirt off. He had bruises across his lower stomach and diagonally across his left peck and a burn just above his collarbone from the seatbelt. You had pressed your lips together clenching your jaw to keep from arguing with him. He didn’t look like he could handle it. His skin was pale and ashy, his blue eyes unfocused, and his hands were trembling. His posture was stiff and gave off strong don’t touch me vibes. 

It was the only reason you hesitated to make contact with him. You had softly slid your hand into his. He had startled starting to yank away but when he processed what you were doing, he opened his hand so you could interlace your fingers. You gave a soft squeeze and his hand tightened in response. It wasn’t bruising but firm, a sign to stay. Not that you had any intention of going anywhere. You placed your other hand on his forearm stroking it softly. 

You had stayed until they cleared him to go with a prescription for pain meds and instructions to return immediately if he had any headaches or nausea. Liv had briefly stopped you guys on your way out to tell Sonny to take a few days off and to call if he needed anything. Now you guys were home and he was still out of it. Shock and adrenaline mixed in a toxic combination that had yet to clear completely from his system. He was sitting on the couch numbly staring at the wall.  

You sat in front of him on the coffee table holding out the glass of ice water in one hand and two pills in the other. He may not be feeling the pain now but you had no doubt he would in the morning. When he still didn’t move or even show any sign of noticing you worry clogged your throat. “Sonny,” 

His blue eyes scan your worried face then drop to your outstretched hands. He takes them robotically downing half the water in one gulp. He ran his hand through his skewed hair gripping the strands near his temple. “I’m sorry I worried you and that you had to come down to the-” You let out a sharp sigh of disbelief.  

Was he serious right now? 

The sound makes his gaze come back to yours sluggishly. “You got hit by a car Sonny. Then you gave CPR for twelve minutes with two broken ribs. And you are apologizing to me? Do you have any idea how crazy that is?” He didn’t even attempt to answer just staring at you blankly. You felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest, air catching in your lungs.  

You wondered how long it had been since someone had comforted him when he needed it. He was so good about giving it to any and everybody that needed it. He just always seemed so in control.  

Stable. Grounded. Steady. 

You take the glass from his limp fingers and set it down next to you on the coffee table. You cup his cheek and he leans into the touch his eyes closing. You trace his cheekbone with your thumb. “He blew right through the stop sign- I could- I didn’t have time to stop.” His breathing is shallow and harsh. His words were thick with emotion. “There was- I couldn’t stop the bleeding- it was everywhere.” He looked down at his hands, elbows resting on his knees. “She stopped breathing- so I tried to save her-the CPR- but there was so much blood.”  

“Sonny, this isn’t your fault.” He was quiet and you tilted his head up to look into his eyes. They were misted with moisture, and red and bloodshot. “It’s not your fault. You did everything you could.” He shook his head, “It wasn’t your fault.”  

Sonny folds over his head pressing against your thighs. You feel the wetness of his tears soak your jeans. Your hands run through his hair as you say his name softly. You rub his back as your fingers tangle in his hair and your thumb rubs the back of his neck. His arms wrap around you sliding under your thighs to lift you up and over onto his lap. Your thighs straddling him, your pelvis pressed tight against his. His arms lock tight around you as his face buries into your neck and shoulder. 

He holds on to you like you are his lifeline. The only thing keeping him from drowning. You hold him back tighter. He soaks up everything you are willing to give him and you are willing to give him anything and everything he needs to help him get past this moment. A death he felt was in his own hands.  

It wasn’t.  

You knew you couldn’t force him to believe that if he didn’t want to. But you could be there for him while he worked through all of the emotions churning dangerously throughout his body. Eventually, he tired himself out. His grip loosened as his body weight sagged into you. You kept your grip firm. You weren’t going to let go.  

Not until he was ready.           

[cheemscakecat]

The old Jedi would not know what to do with Luke.

Anakin was seen as a handful, but the Jedi could still command and control him. He was only a little boy when he was cut off from seeing his mother, and when the Jedi started drilling it into him that his personality was a problem he needed to grow out of.

He respected them, they were the authority figures in his life. He just wanted them to see him as someone worthy of respect too, instead of a problem child.

But they still talked down to him, even after all he did in the Clone Wars. Anakin was susceptible to Palpatine playing the part of a kind father figure because the Jedi treated him so badly.

He was so depressed when he met Padme again and his mom dying was the final straw. Padme stuck with him, but believed they needed to keep their stations as a Senator and Jedi to make the galaxy a better place.

Neither of them were in the right headspace for Anakin to leave the Jedi and seek a different life. He still wanted to be a Jedi, and wasn’t he supposed to be the chosen one? Surely he had to keep trying, he had to prove that Qui Gon was right. Had to prove himself.

Luke wouldn’t have thrived either if he was taken to the Jedi as a child. But if he travelled back in time as an adult?

That man thinks like a good old moisture farmer. Some of the most moral, trustworthy folks you could find on Tatooine. And they don’t take nonsense from anybody.

He respects Obi Wan and Yoda. But he doesn’t agree with them all the time or take all their words as gospel. He was turning down Obi Wan about rescuing Leia, saying he had to go home and he wasn’t qualified to help. Left Dagoba to save his friends, because he can’t just leave them behind to train.

And he didn’t give up on reasoning with Vader, even when told nobody comes back from the dark side. He believes people can redeem themselves.

Luke isn’t set in the strict and cultish ways that the Jedi had in their last days. That’s something Disney didn’t understand.

He’s like the ancient Jedi, the ones who were normal people who happened to have the force. That’s how he operates. Who says you have to train since childhood, away from all your family, in this temple system?

He doesn’t have all the same information and training, but he has an outsider’s perspective. Luke Skywalker doesn’t put the Jedi in the same box they built for themselves before the fall. And he would make that known.

He would get along swimmingly with Qui Gon and Quinlan Vos. Vos operated outside of the Order and was looked down upon for it. I can see those two sitting and joking for hours, racing each other with Luke on a Speeder and Quinlan parkoring through the trees.

Qui Gon tried to be civil and work as a member of the Jedi, even when they looked down on him. He believed someone like Anakin could change things, so of course he’d be excited meeting Luke.

Wouldn’t it be a relief to hear another person call out the Jedi on their overzealous rules? This Skywalker, who spoke of Count Dooku potentially being redeemable and said he understood why the man left? Nobody else would have said it out loud. Mace Windu would find the man infuriating. An outsider with no right to speak about the Jedi’s ways. Do you know what he said, when Mace told him he was not fit to call himself a Jedi, much less a master?

“I’d rather not fit your definition of a Jedi. This” he gestured at the Council “isn’t something to aspire to. You’re all so high up you can’t see the ground. You can barely see the other Jedi who are a floor beneath you.

I prefer to have my feet back on solid ground, with the people who live there.”

“You said your name is Skywalker.” Luke shrugged and chuckled.

”I like to fly. I’m a decent pilot. But looking at a world from orbit only shows a fraction of it. Landing, seeing what’s on the ground is important. There are so many lights you can’t see from space. So many sounds that Air Traffic Control sees as a distraction.

The sound of a child singing along to a song, the sound of old locals bickering, the sound of animals in the trees. They’re best experienced in person. The Jedi haven’t gone down to listen in a long, long time.”

Mace could say Luke’s not a Jedi, but then what is he? He uses the light side of the Force and has good morals and does his best to work with the personality traits he has.

Maybe he does have that impatient streak and fierce anger, but he’s learned to manage them. Instead of repressing them and assuming they’ll lead to the dark side.

You can’t call Skywalker a servant of the dark side, even when you vehemently disagree about Sith being capable of redemption. And he knows enough, is skilled enough, that you can’t just write him off as part of the unwashed masses.

So what is Luke then? Living proof that Jedi can function without the Council and Temple and Dogma. Proof that Anakin could have thrived if he wasn’t raised separated from his old life and to think he was wrong for having the traits he was born with.

Would he fade away if he changed the timeline? Or would he create a new, separate timeline and wind up back in his version of the future?

Luke would probably try not to sound like a crazy man, talking about the Chancellor. Instead of being able to oust Palpatine, I believe he would change the timeline by making a difference in people’s lives.

Qui Gon was surprised to see Skywalker insisting that Anakin needed his mother; and if the Jedi were so set on isolating kids, he’d buy her freedom himself and train the boy outside of the Order. He’d never really questioned the virtue of separating parent and child, but when Luke called it out? Really made him think.

Nobody could deny that Skywalker and the small child with the same name hit it off. They were both from Tatooine and loved to tinker and loved to fly. Some even wondered if Luke was the father, which made him burst out laughing and point out the flaws in that theory.

Shmi still ended up marrying Owen’s father when she was freed, but let Anakin go with Skywalker to become a Jedi. Somehow she knew the two of them would come to visit, just like he promised.

Years later, Luke would find a way to return to his own timeline. And it would be time for him to go home, with precious memories with his father, grandmother, and uncle that he never dreamed he’d experience.

The Anakin Skywalker he left behind would be okay. He had learned how to deal with his emotions in a healthy way. He didn’t hang on the Jedi’s every word.

He was so much more calm and happy. He didn’t care what the Order said about him when he and Padme announced their marriage. Anakin had questioned why she’d deny herself happiness for her career, and she saw that he had a point.

Of course Luke stuck around for the ceremony, alongside many Jedi like Qui Gon who left the Order after seeing there was an alternative. He left an Obi Wan and Yoda who weren’t so stifled by the Order, and who made it better for it.

It would be much later that Anakin would realize the other Skywalker was his son. He grew into the same face and voice and powers. And he would find a hologram from his master, too.

Explaining that he was from a timeline where the Jedi failed the Chosen One and he fell to the dark. Reassuring Anakin that he redeemed himself in the end, and that the evil Empire was defeated. Calling him dad and saying he was glad they got to get to know each other properly.

[jymwahuwu]

hi! It's my first time sending ask so I am a bit nervous hehehe... What do you think about small breast darling? Will Jingyuan loves them? I want to heard your opinion about this, thank u! 💖

Hello 🤗💓 Thank you for sending. Don’t be nervous, here are Jing Yuan’s thoughts on small breast darling. I really think Jing Yuan will accept darlings of all body types as long as he falls in love😹

-CW: yandere, non-con, abuse of trust, nipple stimulation, overstimulation, mentions and some descriptions about lactation

✧- If this were to describe other people, it might seem disingenuous, and as if they don't have an opinion of their own. But- Jing Yuan's acceptance and worship are all based on love, and his openness is extraordinary. He adores darlings of any body type. This is also reflected in the preference for breasts.

✧- Jing Yuan noticed that your small breasts were small and exquisite, flat, and covered by a layer of fabric. He stopped himself from peeling off the obstructing piece of fabric.

✧- On a quiet afternoon, the raindrops wet your shirt. The clothes absorbed the moisture and clung tightly to your skin, revealing the lines and structure of your bra and breasts to the world. Jing Yuan is your considerate friend, providing warm tea and shelter from the rain. He had a lot of self-control so he didn't start jerking off.

✧- He ordered some bunny and kitty bras in your size from an online store. Don't dig into why he knows your exact bra size. By the way, Jing Yuan ordered matching underwear.

✧- Until one day, the preparation is completely completed. Seize the opportunity and flip your bra up immediately. You exclaimed, covering your nipples with your hands in panic. "Jing Yuan…!? What are you doing?" Firmly but gently fixing your hands on your head, prohibiting you from any resistance.

✧- Poor you, you always thought Jing Yuan was a trustworthy friend/general before this.

✧- Finally get a close look at your nipples. That is a wonderful experience that cannot be replaced by any number of photos automatically sent by the surveillance system. Your areolas tremble, stiffen and bulge under the gaze. Lovely flat hills. "Don't look - don't look at me like this!" You struggled awkwardly, your breathing quickened and your eyes flickering.

✧- Being caught up in a storm of desire without explanation. Your nipples were being caressed, sucked, rubbed and swirled by his thumb, occasionally given a light pinch. Those sensitive nerve endings continuously transmit pleasure to your mind, "Don't-don't…" You moaned, your waist bounced up, your legs rubbed against each other restlessly, and the petals were glowing with water.

✧- Refuse to have any part of your body other than your breasts touched…for now. Like a lion who has found a favorite toy, he teases his little rabbit and attacks. You threw aside your dignity for a moment, letting out some high-pitched moans and your vagina twitching, begging for his cock to come in. Not allowed. Nipple orgasms are the only thing you get for hours.

✧- "Stop touching… no more… can't…" You express your meaning intermittently, desperate and helpless, not knowing why Jing Yuan is so obsessed with your breasts. You feel like there's nothing left to get wet, you're drained - but at the same time the deep, wet marks on the quilt continue to grow.

✧- When that cock invades and expands your soft and warm walls in accordance with your "will", it does not mean that your breasts are ignored. A pair of custom-made bunny vibrators are glued to your nipples, the wet slaps humming along with the mechanical sound. You twitched helplessly.

✧- When sowing seeds, Jing Yuan is daydreaming about the day when your small breasts will secrete milk. By then your nipples will be swollen, and the smooth and sweet milk will be pumped out… The breast pump will be ready now.

✧- For those who don’t understand the charm of small breasts, Jing Yuan’s point of view is: Lost pearls are usually covered in dust. Their ability to see one of these colors is permanently lost throughout their lives.

[neveromininart]

After reading the episode 36 with my friend we came to wonder about the blades. We’ve seen how blades can be all shapes and sizes but we’ve not seen many of their potential applications. The first thought was how they could be applied outside a criminal setting. This all derived from noticing that Heliodora’s blade is quite small. For that questions like how sharp they are (or if that is based on its shape like resembling a non magic object )came up. Also can the phoenix making the blade choose its shape and placement or does that depend on the person receiving the blade? And lastly how clean are they? Like could they be sterile? Bc based on that we wondered if for example surgeons would use phoenix feather scalpels (cause based on all the previous questions they would probably beat steel) or if Heliodora for example would be able to use hers for (non) body disposal / day job activities.

This has gotten quite long but my friend and i tend to think a lot about what a world with a magic system like sunset phoenix would look like outside a criminal setting.

We really love your work and your story

OOOhohooho I love this ask *rubs fly hands together*

I'm gonna start by telling you about Heliodora's Phoenix Feather Blades! Tbh I think they're the coolest shape/ placement in the series.

They're actually a pair of scissors! They're not for body disposal at all, Valentine gave them to her specifically so Dora could cut Val's hair, because when Val's hair is cut with regular scissors it grows back instantly. Episode 36 was probably the first time they'd ever been used for any other purpose. Also, unrelated, but Dora is the only person Valentine gave a Blade to, everyone else in the Ring got theirs from Rohan.

as for your other questions:

Blades are The Most Sharp. I imagine they are as sharp as steel can possibly be, but Always, because the edge doesn't degrade with use.

The Phoenix who is placing the blade on someone decides what it looks like! It's like a regular tattoo in the sense that it needs to be like, drawn on, so the Phoenix doing the Blade, like a tattoo artist doing a tattoo, has complete control over the shape and design. Where the design is sharp or rounded is also controlled by the Phoenix by building up layers. The more layers, the thicker the Blade. This is roughly the layers that Emilia's Blade took:

I don't know jack about biology but I think? They would be sterile automatically? Like, Blades hang out on people's skin, but when you bring them into 3D form, they don't really exist for a second?? So there probably wouldn't be any way for bacteria or moisture to hang on through that transition??

I think Phoenixes would still need surgeries sometimes - maybe because of damage done by a blade, or maybe for cosmetic reasons. So there's probably a handful of surgeons wandering around with a set of Phoenix Feather Scalpels and Needles tattooed on them. I imagine there are also quite a few hairdressers and barbers with Blades tattooed on them, and chefs with a series of knives tattooed down their arms, and survivalists who always want a knife handy, and one guy who's really into cheese and has the specialty cheese knives. The only problem with Blades is that they're always cold, so it would suck working with them for a long period of time. But if people wanted Phoenix-specific work, or just want to have a sharp edge on hand, then there are plenty of reasons to get them! Airport security must be a bitch, though.

The thing with most of the characters in the series, though, is that they look shady as hell. Like, the swords are all explicitly for killing Phoenixes, and everyone they pass on the street knows that. Or they think it's an edgy regular tattoo and you want to look like you can kill a Phoenix. Either way, you don't look very friendly. Emilia's future job prospects aren't looking great.

[carionto]

Too tough for paradise

One peculiar side effect of Humans hailing from a Deathworld is that their biological well-being is partly dependent on some degree of microscopic hostility from the environment and what they consume.

It is normal among most species that, should their surroundings change to more hospitable conditions, their minds and bodies would feel relief and be under less stress. However, as with any changes, if they deviate too far too quickly from their normal, you risk damage from a sudden shock to the system.

___________________________

Abigail "Abby" Hostaz had been legally grounded by the Gyin-Trov due to her, ahem, "expansion of business" without the right permits. Not that she bothered to learn that nobody outside Human controlled space in the Galactic Coalition would allow the creation of a deadly asteroid race track AND let sentient beings directly pilot ships through it.

Hell, finding an Alien crazy enough to partake in an activity even most Humans consider insane is one in a trillion. She still did find seven non-Humans, so that math actually is within a reasonable margin. Everything else is not reasonable.

The local Gyin-Trov government learned of the true nature of her activities when a rogue asteroid suddenly appeared on their threat detection systems. The unnatural change of course quickly pointed to where she had set up her latest "thrill track", which the authorities rapidly dismantled, impounded her vessel, named "Victor", and put her under house arrest in the Human embassy awaiting the conclusion of the investigation and subsequent trial.

While station based embassies are effectively fully contained perfect habitats for the respective species, planet based ones tend to adopt a lot of the local elements and integrate what they can simply due to proximity and availability.

Humans, the resourceful buggers that they are, used everything the planet had to offer (that wasn't outright lethal to Humans, which in the case of the Gyin-Trov homeworld were only a few pollen producing crops found in the poles of the planet).

A combination of a almost perfect temperature range (near constant lows of 14C at night, highs of 21C mid-day), slightly higher moisture levels, and bio-engineered local flora that made the water into this somewhat thicker soup containing virtually every nutrient, vitamin and mineral a carbon-based lifeform could ever want, leaving little for the digestive system to tackle. Heck, just being within a field of such plants lets the body absorb everything for healthy survival.

In short, the Gyin-Trov homeworld, also named Gyin-Trov, is as close to Utopia as you can get.

Aaaaaaand Abby is not having a fun time there.

It's not like she was imprisoned - she was allowed to wander around the city and surrounding area under light supervision, she even had her cat, Hector, with her. But there just wasn't enough excitement to be found anywhere.

They had arcades and various physical activities, but she never felt her body grow tired after hours of competitive gaming and contests. No feeling of hunger or exhaustion ever disturbed her focus. The only thing that kept Abby from becoming, essentially, a zombie perpetually engaged in whatever activity was most fun at the moment was the inherent nature of the Human brain - it gets... wobbly after a while and needs sleep.

Not even a week had passed and people noticed Abby had become... different. No strong reactions to anything, no outbursts of some crazy ideas, just a general positive but not quite cheerful apathy. The Human ambassadors had experienced a much milder version of this, and it is theorized that they did not deem it as concerning due to the simple fact the ambassadors always had something to do, and more importantly - something that put their minds, if not bodies, to the test. Regular challenges, worries, and stress from work in general kept them on edge in some ways.

Abby was just waiting around, "put on vacation" as one of the ambassadors had put it. After a couple of more days of this peace, she seemed more like a automaton than anything else. Mindlessly going from place to place, trying out whatever activities were available, but clearly none offered anything close to the level of excitement and danger she had grown so used to. Not even the flawed thirty year old Human body she was in offered any surprises or discomforts.

Everything was just perfectly fine.

When the paperwork finally cleared and she was issued a fine and formally banned from engaging in any construction efforts in Gyin-Trov controlled space, she was reunited with Victor, and the personality changes she had undergone during her short time were seemingly instantly reversed.

Once she was in her ship and the self-diagnostics showed a few blinking lights, Abby immediately became energized and took action. Breathing in the recycled air with a hint of dry rust made that old bruise on her right side make itself known again. She pulled an all-nighter making repairs and "adjustments" to Victor and collapsed from exhaustion on the hard floor.

The next day, she was already near the border to neutral space when she noticed a dwarf planet with a rock formation in the shape of a trebuchet (very vaguely, if you squint really, really hard, and imagine half of the parts), and that gave her an idea.

All the while, Hector the cat did not exhibit any noticeable changes during his stay with Abby on Gyin-Trov. Maybe just a few more hours of sleep per day than normal.