#Quick Machine Table Power Clamp

[chronoghoul]

would be OBSESSED if you did a oneshot saiki × kaidou fic, theres not enough food for them💔

╭﹒⊹⋆﹒ @ 𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑 2024.

୨ ,, Saiki x Kaidou , sfw + pre established relationship , Saiki's POV .ᐟ

𖦹 ｡° note : crazy how I got a request for this cus I was literally reading Kaidou x Saiki fanfics at the time I got a notification for this 😨😱, anyways I'm no professional writer but I tried, feel free to suggest improvements!! btw I love ur art it's literally so good?? like damnn 𖥔 ݁ ˖.°. ⭑

﹒｡ꔫ﹒wc : ~1.3k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭

Most people don’t realize I’m in a relationship. And, honestly, that’s exactly how I prefer it. If I wanted my personal life to become public knowledge, I’d have paraded my every step since elementary school. Besides, maintaining this sense of anonymity has… advantages. Kaidou, on the other hand, has a different take.

He wouldn’t say he wants the world to know; it’s more that he’s… not entirely opposed to it, either. And when you’re dating someone as demonstrative (read: clingy) as him, well, compromises are bound to be made. He calls it “affection.” I call it “the inevitable, slow erosion of my personal boundaries.”

“Oh, come on, Saiki, it’s just a quick hug!” Kaidou insists, pouting in that way he thinks is disarming. I stare blankly back, adjusting my glasses just enough to make my annoyance obvious.

“We’re standing in front of the coffee vending machine,” I point out, voice perfectly deadpan. “During school hours. Not exactly a prime location for relationship displays.”

His eyes widen with familiar dramatics. “Don’t tell me you’re… scared of being discovered, Saiki? I’ll cover for us if we’re spotted. I’m well-trained in covert operations, after all.”

I make it a habit to ignore the grander gestures of Kaidou’s imagination, especially when they involve his “training” in clandestine arts. It’s a small mercy for both of us that I can redirect this conversation without missing a beat. “Scared, no. Rational, yes. Unlike you, I prefer not to turn our relationship into an after-school special.”

He’s listening, of course, but I know him well enough to spot that glint in his eye—the one that says, Challenge accepted. A sigh escapes me, but that only emboldens him further.

He shifts closer, glancing around in a show of exaggerated caution that would look subtle only to someone who hasn’t seen a single spy film in their life. His hand darts out, clamping around my wrist. “But… what if I’m just trying to show you I care?”

It’s hard not to roll my eyes, and maybe it’s because this is Kaidou, the boy who believes in destiny battles and imaginary ancient power. Who’s somehow wiggled his way into my life with the persistence of an immortal cockroach. He doesn’t notice me slowly sliding my wrist free from his grasp, an act that requires less telekinesis and more practiced patience.

“That’s not really necessary. If you care about me, I’ll know it without you trying to show everyone within a five-mile radius,” I say.

His face softens in that disarming way, the one that only ever backfires on me. His expression is sincere, eyes bright behind his glasses. It’s almost ridiculous how earnest he can look, even after I’ve pointed out his every blunder and miscalculation.

“Right, right. Secret agents,” he mumbles, as if we’re enacting some elaborate espionage plot. “We’ve gotta keep it on the down-low.”

I let him believe that.

— Break Time —

During lunch, he migrates to his usual place next to me, plopping down with all the subtlety of a falling brick. His tray lands on the table with a thud, and he flashes me a grin, nudging his way too close for my liking. I reach for my coffee jelly and take an entirely normal, entirely unbothered bite.

“Saiki,” he says, like he’s just realized something monumental. “We’ve never actually done the classic couple stuff, have we?”

“Define ‘classic couple stuff,’” I reply without looking up. I’ve seen enough romance manga to know this question rarely goes anywhere I enjoy.

“You know, like holding hands! Sharing snacks!” His voice drops. “Or maybe, like… sharing secrets?”

Of course, this is Kaidou. For him, “secrets” are on par with treasure chests in video games. Half the time, he’s convinced that my refusal to divulge any hidden information about myself is an intentional ploy to keep him from cracking some cosmic code.

“What secrets do you think I’m hiding, exactly?”

He scrunches his nose in thought, looking more serious than a teenage boy with blue streaks in his hair has any right to be. “For one, you never tell me what you’re actually thinking. You could be planning some kind of master strategy, and I’d have no idea.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait, what?”

I bite back a sigh, lifting my gaze just enough to give him a weary look. “I’m not plotting anything. I just don’t see the need to narrate every passing thought.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s so mysterious that you have to keep it to yourself?” he presses, genuinely curious now.

Here’s the thing about Kaidou. He’s completely oblivious to how obvious he is. When he’s curious, he’ll ask; when he’s annoyed, he’ll grumble; and when he’s feeling something a bit softer, a bit more affectionate… well, he’ll lean just a little bit closer, his shoulder brushing against mine, and he’ll wait, his expression open and hopeful.

I don’t give him much, because I don’t need to. Instead, I look at him with a flat, unimpressed gaze.

“If I tell you everything, it’ll ruin the mystique.”

I mean it as a joke—dry and almost dismissive. But he actually laughs, and the sound is soft enough to draw the attention of a few nearby classmates. I can tell from their glances that they’re wondering why Kaidou’s face is suddenly lit up like a neon sign.

“Right, right, the mystique,” he teases back, grinning. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know you actually like me.”

And it’s then that he nudges my arm, an innocent enough motion that’s only slightly less aggravating than a full-on hug. It’s funny, really—how just a few months ago, if anyone had told me that Kaidou of all people would be the one drawing me out, making me open up (or at least attempting to), I would’ve told them to get a brain scan.

But here we are.

— The Walk Home —

Walking home from school has become routine—an unspoken agreement. Neither of us has acknowledged it for fear that naming it might disrupt whatever strange, offbeat harmony we’ve managed to find. He walks beside me, humming something almost in tune, hands shoved into his pockets to keep from reaching for mine.

I can tell he’s itching to say something. There’s a telltale wrinkle in his brow, and he keeps sneaking glances like he’s preparing a speech. It’s one of those instances where I don’t need my powers to know what’s coming.

“So, uh… the festival’s coming up. You going?”

I shrug. “Probably not. Too many people. Too much noise.”

He lets out a short laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like you. But… if, you know, you change your mind…”

“Are you trying to ask me on a date, Kaidou?”

I watch the realization dawn on him, turning his face a satisfying shade of crimson. “I-I mean, only if you want to go! We can… I dunno… stay in the quieter areas?”

He’s rambling now, all flustered, which is more or less his default state whenever he’s around me. There’s something almost endearing about it—how, even with all his so-called bravado, he can’t hide that genuine streak of softness.

I could say no, of course, but there’s something oddly satisfying about watching him light up like he’s just uncovered a hidden treasure. So I take my time responding, letting him sweat a little before I say, “Fine. As long as you agree to my terms.”

His eyes widen. “Terms?”

“Zero public displays,” I say, leveling him with a stern look. “And no monologuing about secret powers.”

He nods, almost vibrating with excitement, practically oblivious to the conditions he’s so readily accepting. “Right. Deal. I can totally stick to that.”

Of course, he won’t stick to it. Kaidou rarely manages to keep his promises when excitement takes over, but I suppose that’s part of what makes this whole situation interesting. There’s a certain charm to his naivety—a softness I wouldn’t admit to appreciating, even if I know that he knows.

Because sometimes, in the quiet moments, away from prying eyes, I let him reach for my hand. And even though I’ll never say it out loud, there’s a part of me that finds it oddly comforting.

It’s like I’m almost… human, if only for a moment.

[armybrat-lucas]

Stay With Me

Lucas had been making his way through the woods when Ruger had made a small chuff. This was the sound his master had taught him to use for an alert, when he sensed walkers. it was soft enough to not draw attention but sudden enough when paired with his bristling hackles and stiffly raised tail to signal 'I smell danger, they're close!'

Lucas paused and leaned up against a bank, he was already smeared heavily with mud and decaying leaves. It wasn't as good as walker good but it also didn't make him smell like a main course either. Ruger kept watch, always within arms reach. They sat there silently for several long agonizing minutes.

Then Ruger tested the air and swiveled the air and turned back to nudge him all clear. A soft groan got their attention and Lucas headed toward the noise. His sniper rifle slung over his shoulder and his Assault Rifle held against his chest. His hinger pressed flush to the side of the trigger but not actually curving it to apply pressure. The air was thick with the scent of blood and Ruger whined, he could smell Shane. Grabbing the now dispatched walker by her hair he tugged he off and glanced back at Lucas with a whine.

Stepping forward Lucas thought his heart would burst wide open as he took in the sight of his big brother. He got down next to him and felt for his pulse, checking the side of his neck, a lump building in his throat. His pulse was thready, weak he needed treatment urgently. "Shane I swear if you die I'll kill you myself!" He all but sobbed, his medic training kicking in and he reached for his pack. The young mans' shaking hands grabbed a vial of morphine. These were small portable doses, designed for quick and easy relief of traumatic injuries.

He found the vein at the bend in Shane's arm and slowly inserted the needle. The powerful drug would help him relax and hopefully stay in his unconscious state. Next he looked through his supplies and found a clotting agent that should slow the bleeding, until he could get him back to where he was holed up. On a table and under a light where he could get a better look at him.

Now came the hard part, because even though Shane only had about two inches on him, his body mass was a different story entirely. Lucas snapped his fingers and Ruger grabbed a pant leg, helping to tote as much as he could as he growled in a determined manner. "Good boy, we're gonna save him…we're gonna save him." The process of dragging Shane through the woods was exhausting by itself. By the time he got him into the small building, he had scrubbed and gutted. Furnishing it into a run down but functional safety room. His arms were full of blood and cramping in protest. He panted against Shane's temple, pausing now and then to check his heart was still beating. Lucas was struggling "Stay with me…fuck..you're heavy." He cursed on the verge of physical exhaustion. He drug Shane to a table and table and hoisted him up, the tendons on his neck popping up as he grunted from the sheer effort it took to haul Shanes' bulk up and onto the bed. Lucas panted and stumbled slightly, strapping his sibling down just in case he woke up and he slumped against the wall. Taking his hand he slapped himself to clear his head and turned back to his brother who barely clung to life.

He couldn't wait a minute longer. He removed Shane's shirt, cutting the fabric with a pair of scissors and pulled it off. Then scrubbed his hands, and did his best to make a sterile field. The first thing he did was sanitize any area the walkers blood had touched. Next he started grabbing supplies a portable oxygen machine, stitching thread, gloves, saline, hydrogen peroxide and powerful antibiotics.

He started with the knife wound first, accessing the extent of the eternal damage, flushing it, and clamping off any vessels as he grabbed a lighter and a small rod of metal. Lighting a small gas stove he got the metal red hot and seared the vessel shut. Then he began wiping the wound with gauze, checking for anymore bleeding. Lucas gave a nod, then began stitching the laceration shut, fighting through hand cramps and fatigue as he pulled the two flaps of skin closer and closer together with each time he hooked the needle through and pulled the black thread taut.

Lastly he gave Shane a shot of antibiotics and he prepped himself to give blood. Flicking at his vein in his own arm to prime it, before he stuck the large needle in and attached the tubing to his Iv port. He sat by him, leaning close, resting his head on his chest. A soft sniffle the only sound between them. "Please come back to me.." He whispered pressing the smallest kiss to his brother' temple and he bit his own knuckle.

Lucas could put needles in people all day but having one in him was very triggering. He fought through the anxiety and after a few minutes, bandaged himself and went to rest against the wall hoping his efforts were enough. Days passed, Lucas continued nursing Shane to the best of his ability but he wasn't a doctor. His hope was starting to wane as a week passed. Then movement and he blinked as Shane became defensive. Lucas stepped out and Ruger growled softly to warn Shane no to make a move against his handler.

He approached Shane shushing him, slowly taking the spoon from him. "Shh, shh you're okay…you're safe." He reassured him "It's me Shane, it's Lucas..I patched you up.. I wasn't sure you were gonna pull through." There were deep shadows under his eyes evidence of his near constant vigil. Lucas turned to get him a glass of water but his body was at its' wits end, he staggered and leaned heavily against Shane's bed. He managed to hand him the small cup and winced. He ached all over. Using the last of his strength he climbed up into bed beside him, resting his head on Shane's chest. He dozed off listening to the sound of his heart beat, thrumming in his chest. It was stronger now and he murmured, almost slurring his words. "S-stay…Stay with me." For a fleeting moment Lucas was a small child again all snuggled up to his big brother. "You're all.....I have left.." His breathed became slow and even.

[bios-0307]

Almost all pilots fall apart in training. It's part of the objective of it, to smash their egos into beautiful, useless shards before melting them down into something new and useful. All those pesky pre-training memories, their original personality, beaten down and flattened into a fresh slate to make a new killing machine out of in the simulators.

Sometimes though, a pilot doesn't break that way. It's rare, but there are a handful who take to the training well, who need less beating to follow orders, who come out with their mind intact.

She's one of them. The only one in her squad - in fact, in the whole base. The others cling to their handler or mech like a lost child when they're off the battlefield, all quaking limbs and puppy dog eyes, desperately waiting for the moment they can plug back in for their next hit of combat stims and dopamine rewards. Not her though.

When she gets back to base, after recovering from the neural de-linking, she climbs out of the cockpit under her own power. She doesn't need someone else to clean her, and she's never found trying to sneak into her handler's bed at night. In briefings, she not only pays attention, she asks for clarification on mission-critical details.

And her handler hates it all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A lone handler stands over the holo-map table, surrounded by her analysis support crew and a dozen telemetry feeds. Despite the chaos of the battlefield, the control room is largely quiet, the muffled sounds of combat feeds playing over one-ear headsets and quiet humming from the plethora of embedded computers punctuated by callouts and the handler's enthusiastic praise toward her squad.

On the table, a barrage of translucent blue missiles silently splash against an enemy bunker, and the handler contacts the pilot that fired them to shoot off a quick "Good girl" as the mech delivers a dopamine reward, her way of reinforcing the reward mechanism to make controlling the pilots outside their mechs easier.

She spots another unit in the squad bisecting an enemy mech with its pulse blade and radios to it, the words "Well done, hound," quietly slipping from her lips.

"Ma'am, I told you to stop calling me that. I have a name and a pilot ID number that both work perfectly fine for professional communications," comes an exasperated response over the line, causing the handler's face to pull back into a sneer.

"Pilot, I will call you whatever I deem appropriate. As we've been over, you belong to the military, and therefore me, as your CO, for the duration of your service."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just drop the sexual harassment and I'll stop talking back." The mech's miniature counterpart spins around and gouges out the core module of a rushing enemy unit, as if to punctuate its pilot's demand.

Members of the support crew glance at the handler and each other as she mutes her side of the radio again, her knuckles white around the hand microphone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear, your little 'outburst' earlier may not have been the brightest idea. Maintenance crew reports that your handler is waiting at our bay in the hangar.

The pilot groans at that report from her mech. Looking through its eyes as they approach base, she contemplates staying out longer just to avoid the coming confrontation.

That would simply make things worse. I recommend taking a head-on approach. If you would like, I can keep the core module sealed until you have recovered from disconnecting.

"Urgh, it's still weird that you can do that over the neural link. That would be good though, I don't want to deal with her while I'm still nauseous." The pilot pauses for a moment. "Do you think she figured out we asked for the reward systems to be tweaked down?"

Querying maintenance crew... no.

She lets out a relieved breath and begins maneuvering into the hangar. Once the mech is situated in the docking clamps, the cables wired into her back pop out with a series of clicks, sensory input and systems feedback from the mech going dizzyingly black with each thump of the thick wire bundles landing on the floor of the cockpit.

From outside comes the faint hydraulic hissing of the embarkment bridge extending, followed shortly by a series of clanging sounds. The pilot wobblily raises her head to look into the mech's sole internal camera, and its soothing voice comes over the wireless link alongside a low-quality video feed showing their handler on the bridge, flanked by a pair of technicians.

Take your time, love. I'll keep her out for now.

The pilot faintly registers the sound of the mech's voice coming through its external speakers, saying something about locked joints and pistons, as she clumsily shakes her limbs to get used to moving them again and tries to clear the spinning in her head from the disconnect.

Eventually, she pulls herself up from the pilot's cradle and the cockpit door thumps and whirs open to reveal her handler's disgruntled face, which quickly morphs into a facsimile of gentleness. Underneath it, the furrowed brow and half-smile betray her real feelings.

"Welcome back, my loyal dog," she says, reaching down to try to lift the pilot from the cockpit.

Ew. "Is that all you're here to say? I can walk on my own, so move. Or is this some kind of power play, trying to block me in here until I let you play out your weird petplay fantasy on me?"

The handler recoils. "You should be grateful that I'm even here to greet you!" she shrieks. "Not every dog has a handler so caring!"

The pilot steps up onto the bridge and roughly shoves her aside, striding across the bridge followed by a hail of obscenities. She breaks into a run just outside the hanger door, rushing out a checkpoint into the cool outside air of the base's grounds. In a minute she's past another checkpoint, into the on-base housing, slowing to a walk as she heads for the multiple-occupancy units.

Most of the pilots are assigned to special bunks near the hangar, but she has a special exception. It's a nice spot on base to live, since most of the units belong to non-combat personnel with families, and they're by and large nice neighbors.

Even if I can't read your thoughts over the wireless link, I can still see where you are, dear. You're supposed to be going for a debriefing.

"They can debrief me tomorrow, and you know pilots are only supposed to get those as a formality. They're more than happy to cancel them for the others."

The others can't respond to a yes or no question. You can.

"Tomorrow. I'm not dealing with my handler again today."

She jogs up the few stairs in front of one of the houses, pulls a key from a chain around her neck, and opens the door. Inside, the lights are already on. She walks past the living room into the kitchen and calls out a gentle "I'm home!" to the person asleep at the table, before laying a hand on her shoulder and gently shaking her awake.

She groggily opens her eyes and looks up, then all traces of exhaustion disappears as she bolts up excitedly and wraps her arms around the pilot.

"You're back!" she exclaims, holding her tight. "I didn't think you'd be done tonight!"

"Ah. Op went quick this time. It's good to be back, babe," the pilot replies, returning the hug and basking in the smell of her strawberry shampoo.

"Eugh. You smell like sweat and oil. Go take a shower, I'll throw something together for you to eat. If you don't want anything in particular I'm just going to heat up leftovers."

"Leftovers sound really good right now honestly. You're the best, babe." The pilot releases her wife and heads off to to the bathroom, but pauses for a moment. She checks the indicator on her implants to make sure her mech will hear her, then takes a deep breath.

"I'm going to talk to the base HR office tomorrow, see if they can do something about my handler."

Trying to start some toxic yuri shit with this mech pilot, but she's well adjusted and happily married. I called her my loyal dog and she filed an HR report fuuuuuuuuck

[stvcnc]

4x8 CNC Plasma Table Setup Tips for Precision Cuts

A 4x8 CNC Plasma Table is a powerful tool for metalworkers, fabricators, and industrial shops looking to achieve accurate and efficient cuts. However, to get the most out of your machine, proper setup is crucial. In this guide, we’ll walk through essential setup tips to help you get clean, precise cuts every time.

1. Choose a Stable and Level Surface

Before you begin any cutting work, make sure your 4x8 CNC Plasma Table is installed on a solid, level surface. Uneven flooring can lead to table vibrations, affecting cut quality and accuracy. Use a spirit level to adjust and align the table legs properly.

2. Calibrate Your Table Accurately

One of the most important steps in setup is calibration. Take time to:

Square the gantry

Check for backlash in the drive system

Ensure the torch is perpendicular to the table

Calibration errors can lead to poor cuts and wasted material. Most CNC plasma table software includes a calibration tool—use it regularly to maintain precision.

3. Optimize Torch Height Control (THC)

Torch Height Control is vital for clean and consistent cuts. Make sure your THC system is:

Enabled and active

Properly set to the material thickness

Responsive to surface variations

On a 4x8 CNC Plasma Table, maintaining the ideal torch-to-material distance helps reduce slag and ensures even cutting across the full sheet size.

4. Secure and Ground the Material

Improper grounding or loose material can lead to poor cut quality and even safety hazards. Use clamps or magnetic holders to keep your metal sheet flat and firmly in place. Additionally, double-check that your grounding clamp is properly attached to the workpiece for a steady arc.

5. Use High-Quality Consumables

Precision cutting isn’t just about setup—it also depends on the quality of your consumables. Always use clean, compatible tips, electrodes, and shields for your 4x8 CNC Plasma Table. Worn parts can lead to rough edges, excessive dross, and inconsistent cuts.

6. Fine-Tune Your Cutting Parameters

The cut quality depends on your feed rate, amperage, and air pressure. Here’s a quick guideline:

Too fast = Incomplete cuts

Too slow = Excessive slag and melting

Low pressure = Rough, jagged cuts

Too much amperage = Wider kerf and reduced detail

Test your settings on a scrap piece before committing to the final workpiece.

7. Keep the Table Clean

Debris, dust, and metal slag can build up over time, interfering with the movement of your machine. Regularly clean the slats and remove any leftover material after each job. A clean table supports smoother gantry movement and reduces chances of cut errors.

Setting up your 4x8 CNC Plasma Table correctly is the key to achieving professional-level precision in your metalworking projects. With attention to detail and regular maintenance, your table can deliver clean, accurate cuts for years to come. Always refer to your machine’s manual and safety guidelines before starting.

[biltongmakers]

Top Industrial Electric Biltong Cutter – 0.75kW Motor.

Biltong, a traditional South African dried meat delicacy, has gained international popularity, leading to increased demand for efficient slicing solutions in both commercial and artisanal settings. Industrial electric biltong cutters equipped with 0.75kW motors have become essential tools for businesses aiming to produce uniform slices swiftly and safely. This article explores some of the top industrial electric biltong cutters featuring 0.75kW motors, highlighting their key features and benefits.

1. Crown Fully Industrial Biltong Cutter

The Crown Fully Industrial Biltong Cutter is renowned for its robust construction and reliable performance. Powered by a 0.75kW motor, it boasts a die-cast aluminum cutting head paired with a specially designed razor-sharp spiral blade, ensuring neat and even cuts consistently. The cutting discs are dynamically balanced with the blade to provide vibration-free operation, enhancing user comfort and safety. A hinged door facilitates easy access for cleaning and blade replacement, while fitted hooks hold packets in place during slicing. Designed for stability, this machine can be bolted to a table or stand, making it a favored choice among butchers and biltong producers.

2. Claasens Designs Electric Biltong Slicer 0.75kW

Claasens Designs offers an Electric Biltong Slicer powered by a 0.75kW high-torque motor operating at 220VAC and 50Hz. This slicer features a durable epoxy finish and an original patented design. Safety is prioritized with a patented, replaceable mouthpiece and an included feeder, ensuring user protection during operation. The slicer delivers a "clear cut" action, producing 3mm slices at a production rate of 220-250kg per hour. Easy and quick access for cleaning is facilitated by its design, and additional accessories such as a table clamp and stainless steel bucket are available to enhance functionality.

3. Crown National Electric Biltong Slicer 0.75kW

The Crown National Electric Biltong Slicer is a robust machine equipped with a 0.75kW motor designed for heavy-duty use. Its cutting discs are dynamically balanced with 3.5mm blades, ensuring vibration-free operation. The machine requires minimal maintenance, with blade sharpening dependent on usage frequency. A hinged door allows for easy cleaning access, and hooks are fitted to hold packets in position during slicing. Designed to be bolted to a table, this slicer is tailored for the South African power supply (220V) and requires a transformer for operation in regions with 110V systems.

4. Butcherquip Electric Biltong Slicer BSB2001

The Butcherquip Electric Biltong Slicer BSB2001 is designed for medium to high-intensity workloads, making it suitable for restaurants and commercial eateries. It features a die-cast aluminum body that is both sleek and lightweight, with an easy-to-clean surface ideal for busy kitchens. The cutting disc is dynamically balanced with the blade, ensuring vibration-free operation. Hooks are included to hold packets in position while slicing, and the machine is designed to be bolted to a table or stand for stability. A hinged door facilitates easy access for cleaning, enhancing its practicality in commercial settings.

5. Butcherquip Electric Biltong Slicer

Another notable offering from Butcherquip, this electric biltong slicer is powered by a 0.75kW motor and features a die-cast aluminum body. The cutting disc is dynamically balanced with the blade to ensure vibration-free operation. A hinged door provides easy access for cleaning, and hooks are fitted to hold packets in position during slicing. The machine is designed to be bolted to a table or stand, ensuring stability during operation.

Key Considerations When Choosing an Industrial Electric Biltong Cutter

When selecting an industrial electric biltong cutter, consider the following factors:

Motor Power: A 0.75kW motor provides sufficient power for efficient slicing in commercial settings.

Construction Material: Die-cast aluminum bodies offer durability and ease of cleaning.

Safety Features: Look for machines with safety mechanisms such as replaceable mouthpieces and feeders to protect users during operation.

Ease of Maintenance: Features like hinged doors for easy access can simplify cleaning and blade replacement.

Stability: Machines designed to be bolted to a table or stand offer enhanced stability during use.

Investing in a high-quality industrial electric biltong cutter with a 0.75kW motor can significantly enhance efficiency and consistency in biltong production, catering to the demands of both small-scale artisans and large commercial operations.

[ucamind]

Unlocking High-Speed Efficiency with URQ-HS 4th Axis CNC Rotary Tables

In the ever-evolving landscape of industrial manufacturing, the need for speed, rigidity, precision, and reliability has never been great. Addressing these demands, the URQ-HS Series High-Speed CNC Rotary Tables are offering unparalleled performance for high-volume production. Designed to excel in industries such as Aerospace, Automotive and Agriculture for tool manufacturing, these rotary tables redefine efficiency and precision in machining operations.

High-Speed Indexing & Quick Acceleration

Time is money in manufacturing and the URQ-HS Series ensures no second is wasted. Engineered with a Dual Lead Worm Gear Mechanism, this Rotary Table delivers rapid indexing and precise, repeatable positioning. By significantly reducing cycle time, it boosts productivity and minimizes downtime, making it an indispensable asset for mass production. The quick acceleration capability ensures smooth transitions between machining operations, further enhancing overall efficiency. This feature is particularly valuable in industries that require rapid yet accurate positioning to meet tight production schedules.

Compact & Lightweight Design

Space and weight considerations are critical in machining environments. The URQ-HS Series is 30% lighter and more compact than traditional models, offering enhanced acceleration and precision. This compact design not only optimizes space utilization but also improves production efficiency, making it a smart choice for facilities with high demands and limited space. The lightweight construction also reduces strain on the machine, prolonging its lifespan while maintaining high levels of performance. Manufacturers benefit from a system that is not only powerful but also adaptable to a variety of production setups.

Pneumatic & Hydraulic Clamping

For precision machining, stability is key. The URQ-HS Series features robust pneumatic and hydraulic clamping mechanisms, providing secure and stable holding of the Rotary Axis. With clamping torque ranging from 500 to 1100 Nm (hydraulic at 30 bar) and 300 to 450 Nm (pneumatic at 5 bar), it ensures unwavering stability, eliminating unwanted movement during operations and guaranteeing high-quality results. The dual clamping options allow users to choose the best system for their specific applications, ensuring flexibility and reliability across various machining tasks.

IP65 Protection

With an IP65 protection, these Rotary Tables are built to resist dust and water ingress, ensuring reliable performance even in harsh industrial environments. This level of protection reduces the risk of damage from external contaminants, allowing the equipment to operate at peak efficiency over extended periods. Furthermore, the robust design reduces maintenance requirements, saving time and costs for manufacturers and contributing to a lower total cost of ownership.

Easy Installation

Ease of integration is a standout feature of the URQ-HS Series. Its user-friendly design simplifies servo motor mounting and electrical routing, with streamlined cable and conduit arrangements. This reduces installation time and minimizes errors, allowing operators to focus on production with minimal setup hassle. The intuitive design also makes it easier for technicians to perform adjustments, ensuring that the Rotary Table remains a versatile component in dynamic production environments.

Advanced Applications

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The URQ-HS Series High-Speed CNC Rotary Tables represent a leap forward in machining technology. By combining high-speed indexing, compact design, robust clamping, and industrial-grade durability, these rotary tables empower manufacturers to achieve new heights of productivity and precision. The easy installation process and advanced features make them suitable for a wide range of applications from aerospace to agriculture. Whether tackling high-volume production or intricate machining tasks, the URQ-HS Series is the ultimate solution for demanding industrial environments, providing exceptional value and performance.

[kuvamtechnologies222]

Rotary Production System are manufactured by Kuvam Technologies

On a VMC, HMC jobs can be completed for a fair machine hour cost.

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[alexankitsblog]

[cheelduh]

How to get your crush to walk you to the nurse’s office (Highschool AU)

This is part 3, but it can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of a monster schlong, and unedited.

Parts: 1 2

Synopsis: Childe offers Lisa a shady deal to yet again sit next to you. However, all his efforts are in vain after he makes a complete fool out of himself by tripping over literally nothing because of a stupid cold. Maybe getting a cold isn’t so bad if he gets to be escorted to the nurse’s office by none other than yourself.

Note: Pure unedited crack luvs. Can’t wait for Childe rerun tmr I hope I get the ginger and the emo nun! 🥲💖

The eyes on you are suffocating, to say the least, enough for you to consider peeling a layer of your own skin off just to breathe. Every now and then, you get a teasing glance from a classmate, and you're sure you'll be an entire puddle of guts on your desk before home room even gets a chance to begin.

There's no doubt it's Signora that spread the news of your date yesterday as a means to some sick revenge. Knowing this was going to happen, you packed some salt in your backpack to cancel out all her evil. Now all you need is a chance to knuckle ball it in her face.

Fingers crossed, you pray to the archons that Childe didn't slip anything about your...brick slip yesterday. It's a good thing you weren't in a school uniform yesterday because that would've been the end of your high school life right there.

Thinking back to it, you collapse into your open hands. How could you have beaten a bunch up losers up...risking your flawless reputation for a sadistic ginger with an affinity for chaos? And worst of all, why did you care about them shit talking him in the first place?

"You okay dear? Something you want to tell me?" Lisa feigns concern, already knowing why.

With a sigh, you blink an eye open through the gap in your fingers. "Doing just fine."

"Oh it couldn't have been that bad." Her eyes shine in mischief. "I bet Childe was a real gentleman."

"He sure was." Kaeya pipes up from the back, leaning in to show you the image on his phone. It's a picture Childe took of you absolutely oblitering an ice cream cone.

You groan and slump deeper into your chair from embarrassment as Kaeya and Lisa engage in chatter, mostly revolving around your date.

Ignoring them completely, you start to ponder about Childe. Where is he? You were sure he'd be here bright and early to reminisce on your eventful date yesterday, which mostly consisted of a competition of who could win the most stall games at a local festival.

Maybe he'd even tease you about the Monoceros Caeli keychain attached to your phone. The very one he'd won for you, and the reason that started the competition in the first place.

Your cheeks warm when you fidget with said keychain, and you can't tell if the fast pace of your heart is because you're nervous to see him or because of the biology quiz you have second period.

So wrapped up in all these foreign emotions, you fail to notice the shadow that looms over you, a glittery finger guard tapping at your desk.

The student council President, Ningguang, plops down a stack of budget files on your desk during homeroom. She's gives you a light smile, and you know what's coming when you meet her alluring gaze.

"Be a dear Y/N," Ningguang smiles, tight lipped, all pretty with her hair pinned back to crown her face. "Even with all hands on deck, i'm afraid the student council's efforts will not come to ripeness concerning all of this paperwork."

This isn't the first time you've done her a favour by becoming the president's personal accountant, and it definitely isn't going to be the last.

Ningguang is powerful, with wit like no other, and you want to be able to call in a chit when the time comes.

"Of course," You reply with a smile that rivals her own. "I'll have them done by the end of the day."

"Excellent. I knew I could count on you, Y/N." She departs elegantly, probably opting to sit next to Beidou and bicker.

You're halfway on the third sheet for total income, a minute before class starts, when you're interrupted. Childe stumbles through the door quite noisily, a shitstain of a grin plastered on his face that is directed at you.

You sigh and shake your head as he approaches you. Thankfully the seat next to you is occupied by—

Shit! Where's Lisa?

Across the classroom, Lisa gives you a thumbs up with a bar of vending machine chocolate in her hand. You should've known she'd betray you yet again.

Childe slides in smoothly after bumping fists with Kaeya, and he falls short of containing his giddy nature.

"Hi Y/N." There's something weird about him today, because you're sure you haven't seen his cheeks so flushed ever. His eyes land on your phone, which is splayed on the desk, and the keychain widens his grin.

You snatch your phone and hide it in the middles of your thighs, but the damage is already done. The urge to shrink against the wall has never been as strong as it is in this moment.

"Hi." It's a miracle you haven't combusted on the spot. Is it usually this awkward? Everything went so fine yesterday, so why can't you ease into it today?

He takes that as a go ahead and instantly reaches for your hand on the table, but you retract at the speed of light.

"Don't even think about it." You're ready to connect the tip of your trainers to his bleached asshole, nose crinkled at his behaviour.

Kaeya whistles lowly, leaning forward for the HD show that is your life.

Childe's smile is sheepish as he's scratching the back of his head. "So we're not on that stage yet huh? I seriously thought you had a change of heart after you beat up those high schoolers for m—"

You muffle his statement with a hand on his mouth, and send a pointed glare to Kaeya. "You didn't hear shit."

The Captain of the skating team nods innocently, and salutes. "Yes boss."

Returning your gaze to Childe, who looks like he's having the time of his life with your small hand on his mouth, you narrow your eyes. "Stop trying to spread rumours."

He can only hum in reply, but you feel a weird pressure on your palm and—

The smug asshole kisses your palm.

You pull back your hand and wipe at your pants, full of disbelief. "Did you just??? Did you just? Kiss my hand???" Mouth twisted, you have no idea what to think.

Childe's throws his head back, and his laugh rings in your ears. You hate yourself for wavering slightly at the sound before smacking his arm. His laughs turn into coughs, probably because he may have swallowed his saliva down the wrong pipe. Charming.

Where the fuck is Zhongli? It's already been five minutes too long into homeroom.

Rolling your eyes, you opt to continue and scribble down budget numbers and add sums up or whatever you were doing earlier after Childe pipes down, choosing to admire you quietly by leaning his weight on one arm. It's enough to make you squirm, face flushed.

"Can you not?" Clicking your tongue in disapproval, you don't look up as you speak.

"If you give me a kiss, then maybe." Childe's cheeky, ridiculously so, and he points a finger at his cheek.

"I don't negotiate with terrorists." You deadpan, fingers itching to choke something or rather...someone.

Childe pouts, and then his eyes close for a second, almost as if he's exhausted when he gives you a sort of smile. With how he's leaning in so close, you can easily spot the swelling in his eyes and the paleness of his face.

For the first time today, there's no bite in your tone when you ask with a slightly raised brow. "Are you okay Childe?"

"Yeah!" He's quick to answer ecstatically, snapping out of his tired haze by straightening himself up. "Better more than ever now that I've seen you, girlie."

You blush madly, the compliment enough for you to drop your pen on the ground. It rolls over beyond your reach.

"I'll get that." Childe jumps out of his chair and you're unable to stop him as he goes to go fetch your pen like the chivalrous idiot he is. There's a slight pause in his movement, his body taking longer to process the messages his brain is sending.

He recovers from the muddle in his cognition by shaking his head, and casually goes to pick up the pen, then ends the move by falling over backwards in unconsciousness.

"Childe!" You lunge for him, managing to catch him a second prior to his ass hitting the floor with the help of Kaeya, who somehow looks like he's expected this outcome from the very start.

The entire classroom clamps up and turns to look for the root of all the commotion.

"Don't just sit there and watch!" You hiss angrily, waving them off. "Someone get Zhongli!"

Aether doesn't need to be told twice as Venti and him race down the hall together. Venti probably just to use this opportunity of sudden chaos to skip homeroom.

"Looks like a fever." The Captain accesses the situation as a small crowd forms around you two. "There's no way he didn't feel it in the morning."

"The absolute idiot." You groan at his words. "Of course he'd try to have a pissing match with a cold."

"I'm still here you know." Childe slurs, leaning into you for warmth, chest rising and falling softly. "Just a...a little sleepy. Am I dreaming angel?"

You roll your eyes, but don't make any moves to lean away from his touch. "Anyone got a water bottle?" Curling your hands around his shoulder, you shift your gaze towards the crowd.

Somebody passes you an emerald green water bottle with dandelion charms that clink against the hard plastic handle from a nearby desk. It screams stupid, but you don't have time to judge the owner.

Opening it up hastily, you're about to let Childe take a sip until it's snatched away from you at the speed of light.

"Hey what gives!" You call out to Kaeya, who inspects the bottle closely with his one eye. He then nods in affirmation as if his suspicions are confirmed.

"I wouldn't recommend it." Is all he says when he motions for you to take a whiff, which you do so reluctantly, eyes closed.

The scent hits you all it once. It's watered down vodka, except without the watering down. Tears form from the intensity.

"The goddamn bard." You choke out, and it earns you a drained chuckle from the ginger that has his head situated on your forearm.

He has half the mind to nuzzle in further, but the position is convenient enough for you to crush his skull if you wish to do so. So he refrains, albeit reluctantly.

Zhongli manages to make it in less than two minutes, sipping on a cup of steaming tea as he breaks apart the crowd to crouch down. "Is everything alright? I came as soon as I could after I made this tea. I assumed it was just another prank."

Everyone in the room shakes their head incredulously.

"Unfortunately it isn't a prank. Childe fainted briefly." You tell him politely despite the urgency, since you're whipped for all your teachers.

"I didn't faint!" Childe groans, exasperated. "Got a little dizzy s'all."

"Yeah," Kaeya cuts in to summarize the situation. "I'll be happy to take him to the nurses office with Y/N—"

Zhongli clears his throat. "You won't be going anywhere Mr.Alberich. I'm sure you have five overdue assignments in my class. Y/N here can walk him just fine." He then attempts to wink at Childe secretly like the wingman he is, but everyone in the classroom and their grandma notices.

The facepalm you do is not enough to render you brain dead.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh for the nth time today, and it's only eight thirty in the morning. "No worries, Lisa can help—"

"Sorry cutie. I'm manifesting for the biology quiz." Lisa deflects, lighting three candles on her desk unceremoniously with her eyes closed.

You don't understand why no one has confiscated her box of matches yet. This entire school is a law suit waiting to happen.

You succumb to the team effort everyone is trying so hard to display. "I guess I can go." The hall pass is already written, signed, and neatly folded into the chest pocket of your uniform. "How did you even..."

You don't even get a chance to finish before both you and Childe are whisked away to the outside of the classroom, the door shutting behind you with a slam. Your ears perk up at the sound of a lock clicking in place.

"Looks like you're stuck with me." The smug bastard still has the audacity to beam even when he's pale in the face. "Might have to hold my arm. If I fall and crack my skull—that wouldn't look too good on your record." He makes grabby hands, like a toddler.

The smile you give is unnerving, and with the speed of a snail, you manage to loop in your arm with Childe's. "Another word and let's move on to how your hospital record is going to have more than just a cracked skull."

"If you'd nurse me back to health, it'll all be worth it." The quip he sends without a beat lacks its usual goof, but it does manage to get some sort of reaction out of you.

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

—

Childe's busy thumbing at his phone while you pace at the foot of the bed, arms crossed with a frown etched on your features. You hope you don't look too worried, don't want to give him the wrong idea.

"Can we just get this over with?" He wails uncharacteristically from his spot on the white sheeted bed after ruling out everything he wanted to do on his phone. His hair is tousled more than usual, as a by-product of his constant restlessness.

"Shut up." You answer monotonously, arms crossed as you lean against the wall. "Let her finish her tiktok."

Barbara—the daughter of the school nurse, has her phone on the window, lip syncing and dancing to some music on beat as she films a tiktok with the utmost of important.

It's concerning that her father isn't here to tend to your needs, but apparently he's in the middle of a meeting with principle Varka. Said meeting had been going on for the past few months, but this school is devoid of logic anyways so nobody really questions anything.

"I'm literally dying here."

"Archons you're such a baby," Shaking your head, you approach his bed with a newfound annoyance. "Barbara has to create a tiktok at least once every twenty four hours or her fan club goes feral and..."

"Tries to jump off the roof as the ultimate sacrifice to her majesty." Childe sighs, and for the first time you sense his irritation. "Got it."

Just in time, Barbara finishes her cute little dance and comes over to where Childe is laying.

Childe doesn't miss the way your scowl has dissipated, and you give Barbara your undivided attention, hearts in your eyes from all the adoration. He has half the mind to call you out on it, no doubt a little jealous over how the young highschool idol can get you to show more emotion than him.

"I'm so sorry! I started those tiktoks out of mild interest but now I have an obligation to my fans." The younger apologizes profusely, getting to work almost immediately.

"No worries." Childe starts, staying still as the blonde examines him. "I'm sure it's nothing too serious. Y/N here is being dramatic, she probably just wants to spend some alone time with me."

You inhale sharply, turn to Barbara, and ask. "If I jumped out of the window right now from this floor, would it be a quick and easy death?"

The younger girl's eyes widen, and Childe stifles his snort.

"Kidding." You raise your hands up to cease her worries, and then motion towards him. "Common cold?"

"Yes," Barbara moves on and writes down something on a slip. "We'll just keep him here until his parents can pick him up."

"My parents can't pick me up." He asserts in a casual tone. "Don't call them."

"We still have to call them. If they don't come, you're to stay in this bed all day." She hands you the note, which is a viable excuse for all the classes he'll miss today. "Give this to his homeroom teacher. You'd also better get to class, your hall pass is about to expire."

"Hold up." You remark, barely paying attention to the note that you've shoved down your pocket. "I'm not leaving him here alone." There's no room for argument, your decision is firmly stated.

Childe hypes you up in his weakened state, disoriented. "You tell em girlie."

"He won't be alone." Barbara flashes you a reassuring smile. "I'll be monitoring him until his parents get here."

"No, no, you don't understand." You argue, inquiring all the doubts you have. "He's gonna try to pull some shit and I'll have to be here to stop him."

"Ease up babe." Childe tries to calm you down, despite the giddiness in his chest at the realization that you want to take care of him.

His subconscious begs him to let you stay, to let himself be doted and cared for the way he's always wanted you to, but he knows he can't let you skip class. Not when you've worked so hard and come so far. "I'll be okay for a few. You can go back to class and then visit me during break."

You bite your lips, head jumbled with all the different possibilities of how shit can hit the fan. "I can't! What if Signora shows up? She'll poison you in this weakened state to get back at me for trying to exorcise her." The hesitation in your features gives away everything.

Childe's eye twitches at the thought of Signora out of all people getting the best out of him, and also the absolute audacity you have to be calling him weak. Clearly all his efforts towards the little shows of dominance (e.g. Shoving Pallad against a locker, spraying a hefty amount of cologne on, being an asshole in general, etc.) have not bore fruit.

"You tried to exorcise her?" Barbara gasps, momentarily reminding the two of you that she's still present.

"Her evil has no bounds." Your expression is hard to read, dead serious. "I do not regret my attempt at cancelling Satan's hell spawn."

Childe himself has been cancelled hundreds of times over the span of highschool because of all his problematic traits (e.g calling Venti a twink) and it is not a pleasant experience.

Though it does give him a sense of comfort, knowing that arrogant bitch Signora is finally getting what's coming to her, even if she is one of his friends.

Serves her right for trying to Pavlov her stupid Chihuahua into biting the closest human being just by the snap of her manicured finger. As if it's persistent yapping and tendency to run in front of cars isn't enough torture to deal with on a daily basis.

Childe's yanked out of his thoughts rather forcefully at the sound of the door opening abruptly, the handle crashing into the wall, shocking Barbara's attempts to reassure you.

He knows who it is because of his top tier gaydar, dreading what's to come.

Scaramouche is a morose son of a bitch with a mean streak that hasn't been broken since he was an itty bitty shit in the fourth grade.

"I can't believe you let yourself get sick!" The navy haired boy exclaims in disbelief, doubling over with tears, clapping his hands to add on some extra effects. "Natural selection finally decided to stop pussy footing around your primate-looking ass."

You press your lips together. "Isn't he supposed to be your best friend?"

Scaramouche sputters violently, using the wall as leverage to hold himself up. "You told her I'm your best friend? Oh fuck. Oh this is good. What else did you tell her huh? That you have a monster cock?"

"First of all, you make me reconsider my opinion on the death penalty, dickhead."

Barbara is mortified. Childe continues on anyways.

"—and I do have a monster cock. But why are you so interested in my monster cock huh?"

Scaramouche scrunches his face up in disgust, amusement nothing but a distant memory. "You don't have a monster cock you plebe."

Childe has an awfully scandalized expression on his face, but smoothly enough it transitions into an unsettling grin that you're all too familiar with. "You didn't deny not being interested in my monster cock though."

It's your turn to be mortified, shaking your head at the banter that goes on back and forth.

"How did you even know he was in here? We aren't even in the same class."

Scaramouche raises a brow as if you're some sort of toddler that's babbling out a mixture of Cheerios and spit, maybe a few digested strawberries here and there. He waves his phone in front of you, "posted it on his story."

"What the—give me that!" You snatch his phone right up, staring at the screen in bewilderment.

There's a video of you doing trick shots with your tech deck on the ledge of a nearby window with a pressed expression while waiting for Barbara to finish up, captioned with: "In the nurses office rn pray for me 🙏, there's this cute girl in front of me should I ask her out?"

You check the poll and ninety five percent say yes. Scaramouche voted no. You have mixed feelings.

Shaking your head, you give Childe, who's unable to sit still, a look of pure exasperation.

Scaramouche claws his phone back from you rather harshly, the bells on his hat jingling, making it hard for you to take him seriously when he sneers your way.

"You should be thankful you're the lover of my comrade." He shivers slightly at the word comrade. "or I would have obliterated you on the spot for that little stunt."

Childe doesn't even pretend to look fazed at the older's threat when he says  "as if I'd allow a kumquat headass like you to touch my girl."

You and Barbara hastily jump in to stop the bloodbath that is seconds from happening. "No!"

Luckily, no limbs are teared apart.

[heavenbarnes]

I’m a rude bitch, what are you made of?

Naomi Lapaglia (Wolf of Wall Street) x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: swearing, canon-typical arguing, unhealthy husband-wife relationship, cheating, top!naomi and bottom!reader, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, dirty talk, inappropriate relationship with employers, unsolicited flirting, flashing, implied exhibitionism

Word Count: 3,225

so what if you were the belfort’s house keeper? and what if you had this nasty crush on naomi? and what if she knew?

“Find what you’re looking for up her skirt, Jordan?” The sharp cut of that Brooklyn accent was quick to hit you.

It was quick to hit her husband too, judging by the deep sigh he let out from behind you. You straightened up, grabbing the remaining dishes from the table with one hand, the other tugging the hem of your dress down.

“Don’t fix yourself like it’s your fault, darling,” There was an almost melody to her voice. “Seems someone never learnt his fucking lesson.”

With that, it all kicked off. You walked towards the kitchen with your stack of dishes and cheeks burning hot, as your employers quite literally screamed at one another. Another morning in paradise.

Working for the Belfort’s, for the most part was a dream, you cleaned an exquisite house and looked after one very low maintenance baby. For that, they paid you generously and even took you on their family vacations. 

All you had to put up with was the incessant screaming and Mr. Belfort trying to sneak a look and a feel, all worth it for the luxury you got to be a part of.

You zoned back into the fight as you walked back over to wipe down the table, still without uttering a word during all the commotion. This was like a morning ritual, as normal as a coffee and codeine, they weren’t awake till they’d screamed bloody-murderer at one another.

“For the last time, my love! I wasn’t looking up her fucking skirt!” Jordan gestured towards you frantically, stepping around behind you.

He was about to make another point, and as he opened his mouth to do so, his hands also came to grip your upper arms. You saw something change within Mrs. Belfort’s eyes and you even braced for impact.

“You get your hands off of her or I swear to God, Jordan!” She slammed her coffee cup down, the dark liquid rising up the side of the cup like an impending tsunami.

Mr. Belfort was quick to drop his hands, stepping back from you and watching his wife round the table until she was in front of you both. You felt caught in the middle, figuratively and literally thanks to the way they’d sandwiched you between them.

“You better watch yourself, motherfucker,” Her accent seemed to thicken as her voiced dropped an octave. “Before I bend this one over the table and make you watch the things I can do to her.”

You felt your body run red hot, the image of her living up to her threat moving clear through your mind. Without being able to stop yourself, your knees buckled slightly, most certainly not going unnoticed by Naomi. Her gaze drifted to you, where you were staring straight ahead and doing your best to seem unaffected by her words.

She saw right through you.

In kindness on her part, she didn’t mention it. Rather she dismissed you to carry on with your other morning duties, but didn’t ignore the way you shuffled off with your legs nearly clamped together. You hurried from room to room, collecting the hampers of dirty laundry so you could hide in the wash-house and out of trouble.

Shutting the door and leaning your back against the tiles, you were thankful it was able to cool you down a bit. It was in that moment you realized just how fucked you were, like a Duchess should, she had you royally fucked.

From the moment you started working for them, you knew you were going to have the hardest time keeping your thoughts about Naomi contained. Just the way that she walked with that air of importance was enough to have your thighs tensing.

It was obvious she knew what she was doing to you, that smirk that would prick up at the corner of her mouth every time she saw your eyes widen or your head drop. She took great delight at watching you squirm for her.

You’d nearly lost at all one night at dinner when you felt the patent leather toe of a stiletto dragging up the inside of your leg. The grip around your fork got so tight, you had little marks along your fingers for hours.

Naomi, on the other hand, dropped her fork right up the table and shook her head in faux-annoyance.

“I’m such a klutz, would you mind being a good girl and grabbing that for me?”

You swallowed harshly but nodded your head nonetheless, pushing back your chair and climbing under the table to retrieve the fork. Finding it quickly, you lifted your head to come back up but were stopped in your tracks by a single sight.

Naomi slowly parted her thighs, revealing to you that she had forgone underwear for her evening meal, and was most certainly baring her most intimate parts to you.

You thought you’d choke on your tongue, scrambling back towards your seat as you came up for air. She had a knowing smirk painted across her face as you extended it towards her with a shaking hand.

“You alright?” Jordan asked, giving you a worried glance. “You’ve barely said a word and now you look like you’ve had a fright?”

Mrs. Belfort hummed in agreement with her husband, bringing her napkin up to dab at her mouth.

“Yeah, what’s the matter?” She cooed, eyes holding yours still. “Pussy got your tongue?”

Rifling through the washing baskets, you sorted them out for laundering, anything to take your mind away from what you knew you shouldn’t be doing. Not only was she your boss, she was married, and married to an incredibly powerful man at that. 

You knew in your heart that if you’d let him, he’d be just as unfaithful to her with you, as she would with roles reversed. But you just knew it’d create more trouble than good, even if that good was a long-legged blonde with a mouth on her that drove you doggone wild.

Just as the act of loading a washing machine was doing it’s trick, your fingers hooked around one garment that you really didn’t need to stumble across. You drew your hand back to find a red lacy pair of panties draped over the tip of your finger. It nearly had you light headed at the start.

Drawing them closer towards you, gingerly you looked over your shoulder just to confirm that you were alone in the laundry. Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest in fear of being caught, but this was just something you couldn’t stop.

Bringing the seat of her knickers to your face, you took in a deep breath and were immediately overwhelmed with the scent of her cunt. She smelt just as heavenly as you’d imagined she would, those nights after her husband drove you home and you’d raced inside to finger yourself to the thought of his wife.

It was all so bad, so wrong and so impure, nothing of what you were doing was close to being right. But when it came to Naomi, you were about ready to risk it all just for the sake of having one little chance with her. All it took was that one change, after that all bets were off. That change came in the form of her calling your name.

To say it startled you was an understatement, you were lucky you didn’t scream. Dropping the panties immediately back into the basket, you followed the sound right up the stairs and into Mr. and Mrs. Belfort’s bedroom, where Naomi sat waiting for you.

She was still in her robe, the one she wore to breakfast and the one you knew hid from your view the very skimpy lingerie she was wearing beneath it. Just knowing it was so close but still out of your reach had your mouth beginning to salavate.

Extended one finger towards you, she began to beckon you over. “Can you come here please?”

Never wanting to disappoint, you moved your feet towards her and subsequently towards her bed. Nothing sweet and right could come from being alone in her bedroom, with her wearing the bare minimum in front of you. You knew you had self control, but that much? That was asking for a miracle.

As you got closer, she stood up slowly, fingers moving to the tie on her robe. Suddenly it seemed as if time had slowed down for a moment, you could see her undoing the ribbon on her hip but there was nothing you could, or wanted, to do to stop her.

The silk of her robe slid off her shoulders and pooled on the carpet before you, leaving her in nothing more than a very thin set of bra and panties. You could see the way her nipples poked against the fabric, where the underwear had began to draw up on her hips. 

You wouldn’t be leaving this room with pride.

Reaching out, her fingers wrapped around your elbow and pulled you in until you were flush against her. The heat radiating off of her was intoxicating, you were enveloped in the very essence of her, it was soaking into your clothes and staying on the air.

“You need to tell me, baby,” Her voice wrapped you up, binding you to her. “Are you going to let me have my fun with you?”

Quick to please, your doe eyes rose to her gaze and silently apologized for something you’d never done.

“B-before with Mr. Belfort, I’m sorry but I assure you there is nothing there.”

Naomi cut off your stuttering attempts at explaining yourself with a curt laugh, free hand coming and stroking at the edge of your face. Soft skin and long fingers leaving shivers in their wake.

“Honey, forget about making my husband pay for before,” The soothing lilt to her voice was once again doing its best to weaken you at the knees. “This is just my own little treat.”

Your mouth dried up, tongue suddenly too big for the space and your lips dropped open in a pathetic whimper. As much as the embarrassment was hot on your heels, you could tell from her expression that this was doing nothing but pleasing Mrs. Belfort.

“Let me hear you say it.” She cooed, lips coming up to the shell of your ear.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, you can fuck me, Mrs. Belfort.”

She released a theatrical gasp before closing her the edge of her teeth around your earlobe, pulling down gently. Her lips trailed down the length of your neck, the softest kisses being left behind in her wake.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth on you, girl,” She sighed into your skin. “We better put it to good use.”

Bringing her hands to the bottom of your dress, she was taking full control as she drew it up and over your head. Her fingers immediately went for your undergarments, stripping you down to you were completely exposed in front of her.

Stepping behind you, her hands ran across your body and left no inch of you untouched by her. You had an idea of what she was intending, it wasn’t an accident that this felt entirely like she was claiming you.

“You’re so beautiful, I don’t blame my husband for the way he looks at you.” 

Her nose nudged against the back of your neck, hands running up to roll your breasts around her palms. Fingers tweaking at your nipples, you relaxed back against her and allowed the feeling of pleasure to take over.

“If only he knew that he wasn’t the one you were ready to risk it all for, hmm?”

You choked back a moan that was so desperately clawing its way out of your throat, especially with the way her hands were running down your stomach and getting dangerously close to where you needed her. She hovered above your mound, so close but not quite yet.

“Tell me, who is it that you want to fuck you?”

Along with another moan, you swallowed down your pride, hand shooting back and gripping the soft skin of her thigh.

“You, Naomi, I want you to fuck me and not Jordan.”

A delicious giggle flew around your ears, searing itself into your brain for safe keeping. It didn’t matter what noise she was making, it was set to drive you fucking wild. This moment was no exception to the rule, it wrote the damn rule.

Her hand came down against your mound, fingers slipping between your thighs as she cupped your heat. The feeling of her palm pressed against your aching clit drew an unabashed moan from deep within your chest, only spurring her on to rub it in the smallest circles.

She drew back from you just as quick as she touched you. Too overwhelmed to move, you listened to the sounds of her stripping the rest of her clothes, coming to sit before you on the bed. Naomi shuffled back, hands out behind her to keep her propped up.

“Before I give you what you want, I think you need to earn it.” With her words, she slowly spread her thighs until her cunt was once again on display to you.

Instinctively you dropped to your knees, moving towards the edge of the bed until she was only moments from you. Her hand came out to gently rub across the top of your head, coming around the back and pulling you even further into the meeting of her thighs.

Naomi pressed your face right to her dripping heat, your tongue coming out to catch her clit as she did. She tasted like bliss, like she was laced with gold flakes, this would be a taste you never tired from.

A long groan left her lips, head tipping back as you moved your mouth deftly against her pussy. She held you there, reminding you of the control she had over you as her hips started to roll against your face.

You brought your hands to wrap around her thighs, getting as close as you could. The messy sounds and sight of you must’ve been incredible, the way you hungrily lapped at her cunt and buried your face even further into her.

A symphony of moans serenaded the room, her toes curling against the bed as your lips wrapped around your clit. Had she known her little house-keeper was going to be this fucking good with her mouth, she would’ve had you on these silk sheets months ago.

Naomi’s elbow buckled under the pressure of your mouth, combined with the quiet moans that were reverberating against her. She gripped tighter onto you, pulling you in close as she was essentially riding your face.

Letting her do whatever she wanted, you moved your tongue quicker and fell in love with the way she cried your name in pleasure. It’d never sound the same coming from her, not now you know the way it sounds when you’ve got her pussy on your mouth.

Gripping hard onto you, you felt the rush of wetness as Naomi unraveled on your tongue, one leg coming to wrap around your shoulder as she did so. You remained in that same place, destined to do as you were told whilst you took her through her high.

When the sensitivity became too much, she drew you back before pulling you up towards her. Laying against her, you felt her lips connect with yours as she kissed her taste from your mouth. Moaning against your lips, you snaked your hands around her waist in an attempt to cover any inch of her skin you could.

Feeling one of her hands moving against you, it became very clear to you that she was on a direct path to where you were quite literally dripping for her. Naomi ran her fingers along your slit, dipping in to rub against your clit before coming to rest at your entrance.

With her tongue finding purchase in your mouth, she slipped two fingers inside of you and quickly curled them up. You couldn’t help but squeal into her mouth, gripping onto her sides as her fingers began to move with you.

Clenching around her, it’d never felt nearly this good when all you could do was think of her. You never knew it was going to feel like heaven on earth once she finally got her hands on you. The incoherent cries and moans of her name were flooding the room, sure to drift under the doors and fill the house in short time.

“I’m sure this is better than touching your little pussy and thinking of me, huh?”

Your eyes shot open in fright, looking to her with the complete knowing of being caught, painted across your face. She just grinned at you, that kind of cruel grin that said “you’re in for it now.”

“You think I couldn’t hear you, moaning my name when you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom?”

All the times you’d quickly tried to get yourself off to make your work day more bearable, suddenly flashed past your mind. You would’ve recoiled in shame if Naomi’s fingers hand’t suddenly sped up, instead making your mouth drop open with a cry.

“Go on, show me how pretty you sound when you say my name.”

So you did, pretty whimpers of her first name drifted past your lips some more. She smiled into your neck but you could still tell there was something more she wanted.

“Hmm, try again, and make sure he can hear it.”

It had to be the affect she had on you, because suddenly you were crying out a long moan of Mrs. Belfort, and if her husband couldn’t hear it, he would’ve had to be on the other side of the world.

That hit the spot and sure enough her thumb was coming to rub against your clit in time with the thrust of her fingers. Falling apart in her hands, you felt your whole body tensing against her, stars beginning to rush past your eyes in bliss.

She knew every button to push and exactly what it did, she could tell by the fierce grip you had on her thigh that your high was right around the corner and it was approaching faster than you could manage.

Trailing her lips against your jaw, Naomi sucked the smallest marks into the soft skin there, happy to leaving her brand on you. When she reached your ear, the breathy whisper was the final piece to push you over the edge.

“Come for me, pretty girl.”

And eager to please, you did as you were told. Clamping down hard on her fingers, you felt yourself flood her hand as you cried out for her. Your back arched off the mattress, toes curling and muscles tensing against your will.

As you were coming back down, you knew you’d never come like that before. Looking at Mrs. Belfort’s face, you could tell by that grin that she was eager to see it as often as she could.

She brought her fingers up from between your legs, laying them against her tongue and sucking the wetness off with a filthy moan.

“I don’t think he heard that,” She sighed, shuffling down your body. “Think I’ll just have to give you another.”

[tsukkisbean]

24 cakes pt.2 | drabble

pairing: tsukishima kei x fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: cock warming, dacryphilia, recording (idk if there’s an actual name for this), cunnilingus (face sitting), swearing, all characters are aged up!

a/n: the second part of my one shot (so twoshot? idk) or we could call it an alternative ending :-) idk anyways enjoy!!

a sly smile appears on tsukishima’s face, “oh yeah? i can think of plenty of things that i can beat you at right now.”

your palms hit the counter as your body shoots out of its seat, “oh yeah? let’s go then. right here, right now.”

in four long strides, your boyfriend made his way around the counter to stand before you. one of his hands gently stroked your cheek. the other found its place on the small of your back, firmly pressing your bodies together.

his lips brushed the shell of your ear, sending chills up your spine, “pretty sure i have more willpower than you.’

you mentally curse yourself for ending up in this situation. you should have known better. you should have known better than to fall prey to tsukishima’s provocation once again. but here you were, seated at your desk with your boyfriend’s cock buried deep inside you.

letting out an exasperated sigh you lean forward to rest your arms on your desk. your hands curl into fists when the sound of tsukishima’s smug laughter fills the room.

“what’s wrong? can’t take the heat?” his breath fans your skin as his lips ghost along the back of your neck, stopping to nip at it every so often, “just awhile ago you were sooo confident you could win against me.”

when you don’t respond, tsukishima’s hand comes down harshly against your thigh. a choked moan makes its way out of your throat, despite the searing pain left behind by the impact, “mm i’m talking to you, baby.”

you don’t want to admit defeat. you can’t give him yet another thing to taunt you about. so you try your best to think about anything but the annoying pulsing sensation coming from your lower region. but the way your boyfriend’s starts to trace lazy circles along your thigh, makes things a little hard.

completely at your wits end, you sit up, leaning back until your back meets tsukishima’s chest. your breaths are shallow and uneven, and it’s probably the lust taking over but the mere feeling of his breath on your skin makes you dizzy.

despite tsukishima’s hold around you, your entire body twitches when his free hand roams down to meet your clit. immediately you bite down on your tongue, refusing to make anymore sound and give him any sort of satisfaction.

but when he starts to rub gentle circles on your clit, you know you’re about to lose, “kei, n-not fair.” your voice comes out an octave higher than usual, quivering with every word.

his lips meet your neck again, this time sucking on a harsh patch of skin - surely there’ll be a mark tomorrow morning, “don’t remember saying anything about being fair.”

clenching your teeth in annoyance your fingers find his thighs for some stability. if he wasn’t going to play fair, neither were you. and in a last-ditch attempt to outdo your boyfriend, you clench as hard as you can around his cock.

a growl erupts from his throat, teeth clamping down on your shoulder. the sudden impact causes you to yelp, your fingers digging little crescent shapes into his skin.

this time it’s him who can barely form the words, “fuck, y/n stop that.” you can tell from the way his voice fluctuates that you’re inches away from winning.

you turn your head slightly, cooing at the sight of your disgruntled boyfriend, “what? you never said anything about being fair.”

he only glares at you in response. with the tables now turned, you can feel confidence and adrenaline coursing through your veins. you pull his hand away from your clit, bringing his fingers to your mouth. swirling your tongue around his digits, satisfied when you see the corner of his mouth twitch. you release his fingers from your mouth with a small pop, a string of saliva being the only thing connecting them now.

through hooded lids, you notice there’s a layer of sweat now formed on his forehead. you watch as his jaw clenches and unclenches, and how his nostrils flare in annoyance. but the tell tale sign that you’ve won? the dark tint in his usual golden eyes.

you brace yourself, but what you expect never happens. instead, you’re lifted onto your feet, and your lower region is met with the cool draft of the room. you feel your boyfriend leave your side, but before you can complain, he returns behind you with your laptop in hand.

“kei, what are you doing?” your eyes flicker between his eyes and the machine in hand.

he ignores you, placing the laptop on the desk and lifting the lid. when it powers on, he gestures for you to put in your password. although you’re still uncertain where this was going, you comply.

once your home screen loads, tsukishima is quick to pull up photobooth and press record. when the realization dawns on you, you feel your entire body heat up. but whether it’s from excitement or embarrassment, you’re not entirely sure.

his hands find the hem of your shirt, and now you’re completely bare. through the camera, you realize that tsukishima is pretty much fully clothed at this point. you turn to complain, but don’t get too far when your body is pushed forward. you catch yourself with your forearms, and now your eyes are level with your laptop screen.

seeing yourself through the webcam made your heart churn - you were now certain it was excitement. your pussy clenches in anticipation, something which your boyfriend takes notice of. running his fingers along your dripping folds, he coats them with your essence. he holds his fingers between you and the laptop, the webbing of your arousal glistening off his fingers in the light, “you’re so wet, it’s kinda cute.”

immediately, you feel your body heat up even more than before. but before you can retort, your boyfriend’s figure disappears from the screen. and in flash, your legs are forced apart, the draft replaced with a new warmth. your knees buckle at the stimulation from tsukishima’s tongue sliding along your folds, but his grip on your thighs hold you in place.

you watch as your expression changes on camera as your boyfriend eats you out. it’s absolutely lewd but you force yourself down on him more, eliciting a strained moan from him, “fuck kei.. m- more. fuck.”

he continues to lap at your juices, darting his tongue in and out of your pussy, occasionally giving your clit a teasing flick. if tsukishima weren’t holding your legs from below, you’re certain they would have given out long ago.  

tears to begin to pool at your eyes, your throbbing pussy crying desperately for sweet release. your legs begin to quake as you begin to reach your high, it’s almost as if you can taste it, “k-kei, ‘m close.”

but it never comes, and you should have known better. that’s just how he always is. you curse under your breath, shooting daggers through your tear filled eyes when your boyfriend emerges on the screen once more.

his smirk says it all, you may have won the battle but he’s about to win the war. sucking in the air between your teeth, you debate for a moment. but the thought gets lost when you feel the tip of his cock prodding your entrance once more.

you push your hips back, but his hands hold you in place, “ask nicely, y/n.” the way your name rolls off his tongue only pisses you off further. you catch each other’s gaze through the computer screen, neither wanting to make the first move.

the stand off is cut short as a ringing sound fills the room, tsukishima’s phone vibrating against your bed. the cake. an extra five or ten minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

it’s as if tsukishima is thinking the same thing because in a single motion, he bucks his hips forward, filling you completely. you groan in the unison as his cock slips out of your wet folds with ease. as he rocks into you, the sound of your moans and skin slapping against each other drown out the sound of the ringing alarm, the cake now forgotten.

your hand travels down to find your clit. the combination of tsukishima bottoming out with each thrust, his hands digging almost painfully into your sides, and now your fingers rubbing your clit in distraught circles drives your senses off the chart.

the tears come rushing back, your cries turning into a mixture of sobbing and moans. as the stimulation continues, your walls clench involuntarily, and that’s all it takes to send the both of you into a frenzy.

you remember the screen before you and so you try your best to watch as the two of you come undone together. his thrusts are sloppy and erratic and his mouth hangs open, a string of swears slipping past his lips, “fuck ‘m close. tighten up a lil’ bit.”

your body is convulsing uncontrollably, but you try best to comply as your climax runs its course through your entire body.

his hand roughly grabs your jaw, tearing your eyes away from the screen for a sloppy kiss. and within moments, you feel yourself filled to the brim with tsukishima’s cum.

neither of you move, simply choosing to enjoy the moment. the air in the room is muggy, your entire body aches and you can definitely feel tiny trails of cum leaking down your leg, but you couldn’t care less.

this time you swoop in for a sweet kiss, your sinful acts from just moments ago completely forgotten, “i love you kei, happy birthday.”

he nuzzles his face into the side of your face, pressing a chaste against your temple, “i love you too, y/n.”

however, the moment doesn’t last long as the high pitched beep echoes throughout your apartment.

the two of you scramble to clothe yourselves before darting back to the kitchen. tsukishima, pulls the oven door open while you pull open the balcony door. once the smoke dissipates and the alarm shuts off, the two you stand before the oven, staring at his burnt cake.

you try to hold back your growing smile, but your attempts are futile. you are absolutely giddy, “looks like i may have won twice today.”

[d-targaryenshoe]

River In The Heart • Jackson Avery

Warnings: vomiting, surgery

Word count: 1236

Summary: Solving a fight while performing surgery isn't always the way to go.

Peeping and a strong heartbeat filled the space as blood filled your vision as you made an incision in the chest of a man that was connected to a heart-lung machine with an Aortic aneurysm.

Looking at the screen which was placed at to your side, you placed suction on the blood that flowed out and took away your view.

"Tell me why are you here again?" Jackson frowned when he strolled into the O.R, holding his forearms up with water droplets dripping off. "Maggie was written on the board for this surgery.."

The last hours you spent with him were mostly filled with discussions, avoidances, and ignored sentences from each other.

But somewhere in your heart it hurted because it was just about one small stupid topic.

The clamp you placed in the open incision gave you more vision of the aorta that looked quite bending to the outside and the one you had to remove in order to continue this surgery.

"I'm not Maggie and certainly not April." You murmered between your lips with your eyes focused on the pounding bleeding heart. 'Sorry for the disappointment, Doctor Avery."

When the clamp was being snatched away from your hold a sense of annoyance decided to make its entrance in your body, together with a whole lot of rage you had to keep down.

"Don't call me that, I'm your boyfriend." Jackson snapped, giving you a quick glance before going back to the clam he was holding.

"Doesn't seem like it since we're the only two ignoring each other for already two weeks in this hospital." You mumbled in response when Jackson released a irritated sigh, knowing it was true.

"A week and a half." He corrected, not bothering to give you a single look whle you were jsut glaring at him with crossed arms. "Not two."

"Yeah the other half was filled with you and Maggie planning surgery's in that luxury nest of yours." A sarcastic laugh left your throat when a line of tears covered the bottom line of your eyes.

Moving your head towards the gallery, Jo and Link were both looking at you with two frowned faces filled with concern and knowledge.

Link said something behind the glass but received a smack on the back of his head from Jo.

"She's a thoracic surgeon Y/N and this is a heart surgery." It sounded like it was obvious but even you knew that all the feelings Maggie had for him weren't gone in three counts, they were still there.

"Now i know why your mom said you were hardheaded." placing both of your hands on the surgical table, you stared at him from where you were standing. "Why Maggie couldn't handle your power."

You were there for him ever since all the drama started at the hospital. Him and Lexie, Stephanie, the boards drama with April, their son, them getting married and divorcing each other, Harriet, and at least Maggie.

There wasn't one single thing you didn't knew about him.

"You lost a baby, you couldn't handle the power of that either." That sentence gave you chills down your back, he was the only person together with Amelia who knew about this.

But the fact that he dared to throw this at your face was the thing that hurt the most of all.

A sense of nausea filled the pit of your stomach when sweat started covering your forehead with tiny drops and your heart started beating harder what made you step back from the table before you leaned forward and emptied your stomach.

Hearing movement from the gallery, you tried to steady yourself on your feet with closed eyes before everything turned dark and the last thing you felt were two arms around your waist as you were laying down on the ground.

"Link take that box and place it under her feet." Jo commanded when giving Jackson one glare that spoke a million words. "Why the hell were you fighting with her?"

Jackson moved his eyes towards Link first but he was too busy with making sure that you were doing okay in order to make sure you'd wake up. "Something stupid but important."

Jo sighed as she slightly rubbed her forehead and got up from her knees, just wanting to know what you guys were fighting about for almost 2 weeks.

"Stupid and important? What kind of a combination is that?" Link slightly chuckled but pursed his lips and nodded as he got a glare of both the surgeons, going back to watching you to wake up. "I'll shut up."

"I want her to move in with me, she thinks we're going to fast, i don't think we are but April is picking Y/N her side, i mean isn't it a good sign that i want her to move in with me? I love her and we're fighting over this for almost a week and half." He rambled on moving his hand randomly in the air with frustration.

Jo placed both her hands on her hips with a shake of her head the woman couldn't believe that the two of you would fight over this kind of topic, not for this long at least.

If you two had a fight most of the time you'd go to her and Alex's home and sit there, getting drunk from tequila when moping over the fight but after that you'd walk in the hospital the next day and make up in an on-call room and that would be it.

But she never knew that you'd fight over these kind of a topic. A topic that could be solves with a simple good coversation.

A conversation that ended with both of you understanding one another.

"She's scared y'know, Stephanie, April, Maggie, Meredith's sister." Jo shrugged at the plastic surgeon trying to make him understand how you felt about it. "Just try to understand this."

"Someone decided to wake up." Link spoke up, taking a hold of your hand when you tried to push yourself up in a sitting position. "Take it slow."

"I'm fine, help me get up." You insisted when holding out your hand to Jo as she helped you to stand up before your eyes fell on him. "Could the two of you?"

Jo and Link shared a glance before nodding and placing a hand on your shoulder as they left the room which made you and Jackson be the only persons in the room.

"You're not an April, You're not a Stephanie either. Lexie was an amazing girl, but you're also not Maggie. You're different." He explained walking forward to get a hold of your hands when you stared down to the ground.

"Why do you even want me to move in already? We've just been dating for 7 months." you answered lifting up your head as your eyes met his in a confused way.

"Because i want to do this in a good way with you. Harriet adores you and so does my mom?" He replied, placing his hand on your cheek before you closed you eyes, leaning in to his touch.

"We can try." You slighly smiled when leaning your forehead against his.

If this was the thing that would be the start of something good. Something that would make both of you stronger than before. Then you'd try to make this and all the rest work.

[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven (ao3 only)

chapter 6 - the spork

SFW, but usual blood/gore warning. around 2.7K words.

chapter 7 - shower thoughts

on ao3 only, to avoid tangling with tumblr's nip ban rules. contains naughty things.

Why was it he had let her live again? Heisenberg couldn’t help but wonder, making his way across the bridge that led to the factory. The pot of stew felt heavy in his hands, heavy and warm; a pleasantry, not a threat, despite his impulsive behavior. What puzzled him, really, was that she seemed so comfortable in the face of animosity, like an aggressive man invading her home and threatening to kill her was just part of a humdrum day. He had thought the illusions and ominous offers were meant to lure passersby in, to drain them of blood and use their skin and bones for sordid rituals. He had gone through it all because he was certain nothing could kill him, even if it tried, but no violence came from her. Was she trying to keep people out?

There was no trace of blood on his face, no trace that he had ever broken his nose in such a ridiculous manner, no trace that he had ever been bitten by a half-dead lycan. She had been the only witness, and he doubted she would bother entering the village to spread the news. He would go as far as saying she was happy to see him, his restraint a breath of fresh air in what he could imagine was a violent existence. He would know; they both had that look in their eyes, the look of someone drained of life because they had seen too much, done too much.

Power, he cut himself off when his thoughts had started leaning too much towards emotions. Power, that was the reason he had let her live. She was a cyphered book, an old witch’s grimoire locked away in a dusty tower. He had treaded dangerous waters and climbed through the window holding onto unsteady stones, and had only been given a glimpse, a quick look at the first page. And what he had seen was intriguing, dark and mysterious, so alien compared to his parasite-infested, mold-ridden world. Power and curiosity, nothing more.

As if on cue, the front gate’s buzzer went off, the whirring sound reminding him of the old American game shows he used to watch as a child. Wrong answer.

“Oh, fine.” He grunted in exasperation, free hand thrown in the air in defeat. “I liked her.” The words felt like soap in his mouth, a punishment for his profanity and transgressions. But there was no mother to wash out his mouth anymore, to keep him quiet and obedient. It felt good to say it, good to admit it. He was no machine; he may no longer be simply a man, but he still had his humanity well rooted within him. Or at least he liked to think so.

He liked her, he repeated, an awkward wave of relief washing over him. Not in a sit and commit sort of way, though, he wasn’t about to run back to her cabin come morning with a fancy ring to put on her finger. Hell, not even in a hit it and quit it way, either. The enigma of her existence was intoxicating, a lonely witch living in the woods of powers untold, his very own little secret. His own puppet to manipulate, another tool in his arsenal against Big Bird Bitch, if all went well. What a great find, his chest swelling with pride at his masterful move.

And she did seem to take a liking to him, modesty be damned.

The garage doors greeted him with the familiar screech of metal, a cloud of soot and hot air blowing out into the yard, like a nice warm hug from his beloved metal beast, like it wanted to congratulate him on a job well done. Though there was little need for such precautions, Heisenberg checked the locks, scanned the room for any suspicious activity. Everything in place, every last bit of scrap metal thrown carelessly to the side exactly where he had left it. The factory was quiet enough at this hour, and you would have to pay close attention to hear the haulers walking to and fro, their rare vocalizations every now and then. He was in high spirits and there was much work to do, improving Eins and Zwei, setting aside some time to study Sturm’s case and prepare accordingly. And then there was the planning, the pouring over reports of the latest events, coming up with the best strategy to take out each of his precious “siblings”, wedging his beautiful little hag in just the perfect place within his plans.

The complexity of it all was a marvel to him, a puzzle he never got tired of putting together. He supposed he had Miranda to thank for that, for turning his world upside down, forcing him to push his capabilities to the limit because of it. Sometimes he dreaded to think about what would come after; his hatred was all that kept him going, doing the bare minimum to keep himself alive and functioning, to get him out of bed come morning. What would he do when they were all out of the picture? He could finally be himself, he supposed, though that sounded like a tremendous amount of work and pain for the meager reward of knowing the shell of a man he had become.

This was not the time to think about it, he reprimanded himself. The rebellion hadn’t even began and he had many sleepless nights ahead of him.

The smell of the stew reminded him that he would starve if he waited any longer to eat. He barely remembered when he had eaten last - was it this morning? Yesterday? Such moments were but a blur, a mere nuisance in his schedule. Heisenberg was good at many things, but cooking, that he had never gotten the hang of. Putting a stove together? Piece of cake. Making a fridge out of scrap metal and elbow grease? That he could do. It’s not like he had grown up on much, either, had developed a taste for fine dining, wine and biscuits. His parents had been the industrial kind in more ways than one: blunt, efficient, cut and dry. Their meals were few and far in between, whatever cooked up fast and was filling enough to keep them standing. He had lost the parents, but kept the philosophy over the years, surviving on jerkies and raw produce, or whatever the Duke had in stock to be stored and crudely roasted later.

Heisenberg turned the key to his quarters with a sigh. Home, sweet scrapyard at last, and he wasted no time kicking off his boots and levitating the hammer to place it against the wall next to his favorite chair He set the pot on the metal table before discarding his hat and trench coat, eyeing the bowl the entire time as if it was about to attempt murder. Which he figured it might, considering the person who had given it to him was a woman he had met just a few hours prior, who lived in a hidden shack in the woods and could shapeshift into a giant horned monster. She had tasted it before preparing his bowl, and it did look harmless enough. Heisenberg inspected it closely - it definitely looked very appetizing. Some meat, potatoes, herbs mixed into a thick broth. A hearty meal for a cold winter night. Even if it was poisoned, it looked good enough to be worth the hassle.

“Ah, right.” He stared at his empty hand, shaking his pointer finger disappointingly. A laugh escaped him as he pulled every drawer, went through every shelf. Chisel, saw, hammer. Screwdriver, nails, wrench. Pliers, clamps and cutters, nuts, bolts and screws. An old TV antenna, pewter tankard, and even a goddamn tooth crown. Everything he could think of, except the one thing he needed: a single fucking spoon.

He stormed out of his quarters and into the foundry with the fury of a god. Nothing would keep him from the possibly deadly bowl of stew that smelled like the best thing that would ever grace his lips. He had reanimated the dead to do his bidding, could move metal with his fucking hands. A spoon was no match for him. Grabbing a sheet of metal and a long-abandoned pen, he roughly drew the shape of what he remembered a spoon to be - it had been a while. Cutting through took longer than he expected, and he refused to buff the steel to make it shiny. If he did not ingest his sustenance within the next few minutes, he was positive he would simply lay down and die. He took hammer to metal to make sure the thing would actually hold liquid, then the idea hit him like a flash of lightning, and he cut three small indentations at the tip: half spoon, half fork. The perfect piece of flatware. He would call it… The spork. Finally, he filed the edges just enough that it wouldn’t accidentally rip out a piece of his tongue, and proudly walked back to his quarters, plopping himself down unceremoniously onto a nearby stool.

If this turned out to taste like boiled dirt, it would be the biggest disappointment of his life yet. But it wasn’t - in fact, it was the best thing he had eaten in decades. Creamy, just the right amount of spice, meat cooked to perfection. Somewhere deep within his soul, he knew a proud ancestor watched as he took a generous bite out of a tender potato chunk. He could get used to this, he mused, a mouthful of pork and a hum of approval later. Maybe he should visit more often.

It was over all too soon, and he found himself staring at the empty bowl with so, so much sadness in his heart. Maybe he should have stayed for dinner. Forlorn and full, he leaned against the workbench, one hand reaching down to untuck his shirt, dexterous fingers then quickly unbuckling his belt and popping the button on his pants. Head thrown back, he let out a happy, satisfied sigh when his stomach was finally free of its cloth constraints. He pat his belly with a chuckle, feeling the faint lines of toned muscle above his belly button, then the creases on his hips - he didn’t look bad for being almost a century old, eh? He had gained some extra weight, it’s true, since the Duke introduced him to some modern novelties such as frozen pizza and energy drinks, but hauling corpses and building intricate machines was good exercise. Just the right amount of bulk and sprinkle of muscle, if he did say so himself.

For a moment, unbidden, he wondered if she would like it. If she would like him, all of him, more than what she had seen, more than what she had heard, more than what he had offered in their brief encounter. He hadn’t kept up with the beauty trends, and any man with functioning limbs and two braincells passed as hunk material in the village, but he just knew that he was quite the specimen. He was reminded of that look in her eyes, the one that stirred something within him he hadn’t felt in way too long.

Not that he was interested, of course. His curiosity was only natural, seeing as he hadn’t spoken to anyone from outside this little bubble of a hellhole for decades. Even when he was sent out into the world, his orders were very specific - grab what needs to be brought back, do not talk to victims of the evil plan. As much as he wanted to do it as a fuck you to Miranda, instead he always decided to bide his time. Blowing his cover could mean failure - or death.

She would like it, he decided, checking out his reflection on a well polished piece of metal. Not that it was difficult, of course. Who wouldn’t? The charming beard, killer smile, steel blue eyes. He could treat his hair better, true, wash the soot off his face. His clothes needed washing and his feet needed some time out of those damp boots. He had one too many broken fingernails and more scars than skin at this point. Still, she would like it - on second thought, maybe after a nice, hot shower.

He busied himself with all manner of tasks after dinner. Washed it down with a nice gulp of Gibcos, then made his way down to one of the operating rooms. He pushed aside the gurneys in his way, the quiet humming of the soldiers’ reactors a comforting sound despite the macabre landscape of the room. Beyond the door and behind the large window pane a very, very dead body lay waiting for him, a chunk of its torso and head missing. The lycans had done a number on the poor bastard, catching him off-guard as he made for the outhouse, so we was told. A man couldn’t even shit in this village in peace, he laughed humorlessly. The corpse was barely cold when Heisenberg dug it up and dragged it back to the factory. There was no funeral, no mourning of the deceased: in cases such as these, the villagers thought it best to bury the disfigured relative and be done with it, fingers crossed that they wouldn’t return with a hunger for human flesh a scant few days later. Despite the body’s horrid conditions, it would still be of great use to him. Strong legs and a wide torso, a perfect specimen for his latest experiment.

Sturm, he would call it, after the god-awful noise the propeller engine made. He tentatively pushed down one of the blades - it needed more oil. Rusty recycled chainsaws had been abandoned for a reason, but there was time to better the mechanical parts yet. First, he needed to figure out how to attach the engine, set up the circuitry, add in the artificial blood. Removal of internal organs was simple enough, a nice big heart to tie it all together. On the other hand, seating the mechanical core was a messy process that took him hours to get right. He didn’t want to waste time, or this corpse, when he had already come this far. He abandoned the project for a few minutes when the thighs gave with the weight, off to build braces to hold the thing together.

It looked mostly done after that, and revival was one powerful electric discharge away. Heisenberg held tight against its mechanical nervous system, focusing on channeling all of his energy - it would need an even bigger discharge than Eins and Zwei. Seven thousand volts, and not even a hint of movement. Eight thousand, he grunted as the current flowed through. Attracting metal was easy enough, but having electric organs was tiring work. He had all but given up when he heard the whir of the blades, Sturm’s body jolting on the operating table in a mix of eagerness and terror. The thing lifted its arms to touch him, chainsaw rippers spinning uncontrollably as Heisenberg took several steps back. He covered his face just in time - the desperate creature once again reached out to him, dumb enough not to notice the death machine attached to its own body. An arm hit and shattered the glass of the operating room, the other colliding against Heisenberg’s chest. Fuck, there was blood everywhere.

“Halte!” He bellowed before Sturm could get any closer, removing his now bloodstained glasses to stare at the thing like his gaze could drill a hole right through its spine. “Dummkopf.” And just as quickly as it had risen, it fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, metal bending in odd places with the impact. Heisenberg let out his frustration with a furious kick on the engine before deciding that if he tried again for the night, he would probably end up throwing the whole thing in the grinder. He’d rather avoid having to clean the blades of all the tissue that would be stuck to them.

Seemed like he would have to take that shower after all.

[lives-by-moonlight]

Maverick: would you ever want to fully train someone to be your sex slave? If so what would you do?

((oh definitely a fantasy that he has, and in a more dark au verse he definitely fulfills regularly and not often consentually if anyone is ever interested in that but this is regular Maverick's plan below and yes it's detailed because he knows what he wants - which is training but also with some caring)) "I would only if the partner was interested in it. I've had relationships where there was a definite sex slave roleplay and master-slave relationship, but I'd definitely do it for someone willing to. I've always been more of the way of training as a mix of what I want and a 'breaking' the subject more into submission through their own overpleasure and psychological effects. I know it's not really breaking if they are willing to do it, but it gets them more into a long-term, submissive mind and one that is also very easily mailable for training.

"Most of it at the start wouldn't last forever, it's just to train them into the mindset longterm. I'd first start with the rules of the slave is naked at all times unless I give them clothes to wear for an outing or for around the house for certain things, like sweaters if they are too cold. There is a strong power dynamic of you being dressed and the submissive being bare. The immediate next thing is to collar them - to me this doesn't make a difference what the collar is to me whether leather, more design, or metal because I like using what affects the submissive the most because when it makes them more submissive, I find it even more sexy. Next would be gagging them and this might differ between either a ball gag or a muzzle harness based on what I think the first training would need for the slave. A ball gag is more humiliation and making the slave realize their loss of control by the constant drooling, while the muzzle gives the slave the quick knowledge that their mouth is basically non-existent. Either way, the idea is that you have no more words, just sounds. Once I thought that the training was complete, or at least it was no longer needed, then the slave wouldn't be gagged anymore but for the training they would stay mostly gagged. As well once the training was further along, to further their mouth training I would begin to use a pecker gag as well.

((note some of this would change in the dark au to be well...darker but this is based on regular Maverick)) "They would also spend the first few days in constant pleasure with minimal breaks. They would always be collared, gagged, bound, and blindfolded with no way to escape what is being used upon them. They would be tied down to something like a sybian machine or a vibrator out in the living room or in my bedroom and would be left there for hours for continuous orgasms while they would hear me doing regular household things as though you weren't there. At first they wouldn't need to ask for permission to cum. I want them fully into their own body and mind for the first little bit as a way to break them. I would stop after a few hours and either let them break or rest, time depending on how worn out I thought they were. I would pet their hair, stroke their cheek, give them affection and praise about how well they were doing after hours of no physical and human contact. Then I would have them go at it again for a long period. Again, gags for this would change based on levels of training and what I wanted the slave to understand about the control. They would also be plugged (sometimes for men depending on the training I give them), all of this as a way to show I control their bodies. If I knew the slave would like it I might also add things like clamps.

"The next stages after this would be to start the specifics training. So no longer being vibed all day but now learning to be vibed in certain positions, such as making their back curved while on their hands and knees so they know the position and get used to it. Another would be keeping them on their knees but beginning oral training. However, all of that kind of training is with dildos so far. I never have sex or use my partner with my body yet. I want this to be a build up, for them to realize they want to strive for it because while the dildos and mechanics are hot and they like it for more submissive plays, they will realize they want me and I use it as a type of reward. Is this sounding narcissistic, yes, however after days of only being pleasured by metal or dildos, the slave is much more willing for something real and human and once they realize it they and I both know the training is heavily succeeding. "By the time this next stage of training starts, the slave will still be collared, bound, and gagged, and likely plugged, but by now the blind fold will likely come off. It will also be this time I often have them in the main room, sometimes not even pleasured, just bound and gagged and tied to one spot while they watch me go about their day as though they weren't even there. No matter how much they tried to make noise, I'm not giving them the satisfaction. This is something I would probably regularly do once training is over too just because I find slaves often like it and it gets them more horny for when sex does come. "Right near the end I would also do long-term pleasure bondage but now they have to ask if they can cum even through the gag. And I would phrase this as "if you want my cock, you're going to have to prove to me that you can follow orders." I tell them that I'll let them cum a certain amount of times, however if they cum before I give them permission then they have to start from 0 again until they get up to the number I gave. Usually this doesn't take long before the slave is able to control themselves to get to the number each time without having to start over, but that's when I know the training for that command is done. "After when I thought they would have enough training, I would then ask them this simple question and I would know when they are done if I can see it in their eyes. I just kneel down and go to their eye level and ask "do you want your Master's cock". And I'd know just by their eyes and how they beg. "That's when the training with sex begins. The first two or three times I'll still have the slave completely tied down and gagged as a way to show dominance, but after a while I will lessen the bonds, I might even take the gag away. I may use things like bullet vibrators for extra stimulation but from now on it's about us connecting on a sexual master slave level. I would also start to train them on positions in bed, or get them used to having sex in different places around the house.

"After this, training really loosens and it's more also getting into the regular and casual slave and master dynamic. I still might have times where they are just bound in the center of the room, or training them by stimulating them like a sybian while using a ring or plug gag for them to also learn how to pleasure me whenever I please while they are on it. But this is the time when the sexual breaking weens out and it's more letting the slave now walk instead of crawl around the apartment, they are no longer gagged, and I might start giving them routines they need to follow like general easy housework, cooking, sometimes just letting them lounge around like a pet while I watch tv or do work.

((again, in a dark au this would be different)) "It should also be pointed out that during this time I would give the slave regular meals and water breaks to make sure they are safe and won't get hurt. I would ungag them for this, for a rest from training I might have them either eat on the devices or let them crawl to a more comfortable spot and eat there. If that means we eat together on the couch or the rug I'm there too. Our bedtime routine is brushing teeth, hair, showering or baths, and we would sleep together. Since the slave has been blindfolded in the early days, if that is what he or she wishes during this time I also ablige because after long pleasure stimulation, outside stimulation and lights can make the slave feel more panicky, so the dark is their safe space to help them get used to stimuli again. If this is the case, I also make sure to work off non-blindfolded training so the slave still feels safe. I gage their responses to the trainign on how far it goes so it is still safe for them. "Once the training is complete it's mostly now just giving out rules and helping to establish connection in the new dynamic. Mine are mostly basic, such as no clothes and no leaving the apartment without my permission. I'd give them some chores they are assigned to do regularly, like unloading and reloading dishwasher, making sure the kitchen and general apartment is clean by dusting and putting things away, and making the bed. I may also give them assignments for cooking meals, though I would slowly ease into this as I often find cooking to be a great connecting activity, but also to teach them how to do it if I wanted say supper done and on the table by the time I get home. "At this time I also begin setting them up so they know what is expected from them when I leave during the day (or even if I'm there sometimes). Since I am gone most evenings for work, that may mean I am out late and therefore the slave may either be told to wait for me or go to bed - but be warned I may still want something in the middle of the night. That said, I never give the slave a time to wake up if I leave early. He or she is always allowed to sleep in if we do not wake up together. But when I am gone I will give them the routine that they should expect me to tell them what to do, or that I will do it for them. These will come in these main four ways: "1: I give them a list of chores that must be completed before I come back. I may also put in what I want for meals. 2: I give them sexual tasks they must complete. Such as, I might have a dildo set up in a room by the mirror and tell them they must practice until they can get the entire dildo in without gagging and then send me a video of it. It could also be having them fuck themselves on the dildo until they cum every hour and again send me videos or photos so I know they are following through. Or I will tell them they have to do chores with a vibrator on or with gear on. Those two ways are likely to be the most used besides number 4, which I will get to. 3: I tie them down and they have to be bound for the day, or pleasured all day while I control it remotely like being bound on a vibrator all day but I control it from my office. They are not allowed freedom until I get back. 4 is my last one, and often common to at least once a week, but it's where they have the day free for themselves. This can mean watching a tv show or movie ,such as if they are done chores or while cooking from choice 1, just lounging around the house or having extra naps or a long bath or some reading, something that is their day to enjoy. ((I know this is long we are almost done I swear!))

"I'd also set up a Low Outing and a High Outing. So this would be for just going out whether on a date, shopping, to a friend's house, etc. A Low Outing means that our dynamic is a bit more casual while High Outing means more strict. For example, when asking to go to the bathroom a Low Outing can be them saying "I have to go to the bathroom" as a directive to me while seeming to be normal while I go "okay". A High Outing is "Master please let me go to the washroom". Another difference would be that a Low Outing they can talk freely and interact as they want and are comfortable with while High Outing means that they are either quiet unless given directives or are given the clear by me to answer even just a question from another person. Either way, for any outing the slave will also wear either a necklace, often for a girl, or a bracelet, often for a boy, that acts as a collar in a more subtle way. Again, all of this as a dynamic of Master and Slave even while out.

"Punishments will often come as need to be taught. If the slave is a brat slave, then it comes out more often or even during the first phases of training, while for more subserviant slaves it's more as a teaching tool while still punishing them. Punishments may also change from doing more cleaning, being gagged and partially bound for a certain time, orgasm denial, or things like spankings. Again, all relative to the slave and what I want them to learn or reassert I'm in control. "If the slave is also into a big praise kink I also definitely always verbally give praise but I also might set up a points system or like a pebbles in a jar system. Where after they do something good they will get points or pebbles in a jar and once they fill the jar or get to a certain amount of points then they get a reward. This could be things like going on a date, reading in bed, doing something they want in bed, ordering in take-out, going shopping, getting some new clothes to wear when we go out, etc. "Other than that, the rest of it is just relationship things. Like cooking together, watching movies together, going out on dates or events, cuddling, sometimes even just regular soft sex, just now we also have that undertone to it. Hope this helped!"

[ucamind]

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