#Wrapping Test

[rkctlaboratory]

Electrical Testing Laboratory in Jabalpur

(RKCT LABORATORY PVT LTD)

Our Electrical Testing Laboratory is here to meet all your needs. Whether you require conductor resistance tests, wrapping tests, or pipe testing, we've got you covered. Read on to discover the top-notch services we offer and why we are your go-to destination for all electrical testing.

Introduction:

We are located in the heart of Jabalpur, our Electrical Testing Laboratory is a trusted source for all your electrical testing needs. Our state-of-the-art facility is equipped with cutting-edge technology to ensure accurate and reliable results every time. With a team of experienced professionals, we pride ourselves on delivering top-notch services tailored to meet your specific requirements. we cover a wide range of testing services to guarantee the safety and quality of your electrical components. At our laboratory, we uphold strict quality standards and adhere to industry best practices to provide you with unparalleled service excellence. Trust us to deliver precise results promptly so that you can proceed with confidence in your electrical systems.

Our services:

We offer a comprehensive range of services to meet all your electrical testing needs. Our state-of-the-art facility is equipped with the latest technology and staffed by experienced professionals dedicated to delivering accurate and reliable results. We specialize in conducting tests on Electrical Conductor and Conductor Material, ensuring that they meet industry standards for performance and safety. Whether you are testing Copper or Aluminum conductors, we have the expertise to provide thorough evaluations. Our services also include Conductor Resistance Tests, which are essential for determining the efficiency of electrical conductors. Additionally, we offer Wrapping Tests to assess the durability and insulation quality of cables and wires. Furthermore, our laboratory conducts Pipe Testing to evaluate the integrity of pipelines used in various applications. With precision equipment and meticulous attention to detail, we ensure that all tests are conducted with utmost accuracy. When you choose our Electrical Testing Laboratory in Jabalpur, you can trust us to deliver exceptional service and reliable results for all your testing needs.

Conclusion:

 we are committed to providing high-quality testing services. we ensure that all your electrical components meet the necessary standards for safety and efficiency. you can trust our experienced team to deliver accurate results in a timely manner. With state-of-the-art equipment and a dedication to excellence, we strive to exceed your expectations with every test conducted. Choose our Electrical Testing Laboratory in Jabalpur for reliable and professional testing services that help ensure the performance and safety of your electrical systems.

Click here to know more about us.

[sweetheartsnips]

Daddy Cool - Chapter 3: Dio

Summary: You are Dio's sweet girl and he treats you as such. He isn't mean and evil here because you're so lovely he can't help himself.

Tags: collars, biting, breeding, cockwarming, gentle choking, pet play, creampie, dom/sub

Words: 2.7k

Read ao3 version

A/N: Thank you to my dear friend Mosca for beta reading this chapter. They are always kind enough to read my drafts, support me in my freakiness, and encourage me to keep improving an challenging myself.

For other chapters in this series please see my JoJo masterlist

Candle wax melted, leaving the dim glow of their flames to drip down their sticks and pool at their feet. Little flits of warm amber were cast around the room, the boundaries of their light fading meekly into thick darkness. The faintest trace of incense, the lingering scent of vanilla. Dio preferred to keep blood out of the bedroom. 

Speak of the devil: you sat in his lap, bare thighs spread over his, the warmth of your body leaking from your skin and soaking into his cool, still-clothed lower half. You were naked, of course–as was demanded, save for your black leather collar. Dio’s hands roamed your flesh, strong fingers squeezing, kneading, rubbing, making your skin prickle. Slow, absent-minded caresses with his palms on the outside of your thighs. Thumbs tracing circles over and around your nipples as his palms cupped your breasts, each brush against the sensitive buds making you squirm.

To steady yourself, your hands rested carefully against his chest–smooth skin stretched over and between broad pectorals and wide clavicles. Truly a body to be admired. 

He loved each and every one of your reactions: every time your breath hitched, every flutter of your heartbeat. A satisfied hum rumbled from his chest. Parted lips ran over your pulse point, kissing feather-light, dry pecks against the thin, delicate skin. 

Then, slowly, he bit down–not hard enough to puncture, but firm enough to draw a shrill whine from your throat, canines smirking against your skin in their retreat. His lips left you, only to press a fleeting kiss against the mark he had left behind, as if to soothe.

His hands continued their wandering, palms rough as they slid up your thighs, settling in on your hips. Sharp nails dug into the flesh there, the ounce of roughness intended to coax another noise out of you. The tantalising rhythm of his touch was both possessive and patient in a way that made your throat thick with wicked excitement. 

Your collar sat snug–the perfect fit, an ever-present reminder of his power over you. He tilted his chin, teeth catching the leather, tugging at it playfully before hooking two fingers under it, right beneath the ring at the front. The dip between his forefinger and thumb replaced the familiar fit of the collar against the column of your throat. A slow squeeze, firm and commanding, the tips of his fingers pressed into the blood vessels below each corner of your jaw. It sent a dizzying rush through you– you were aware of every shallow breath you took, each thrum of your pulse beneath his hands. Your head quickly became hazy with that mindless, acquiescent desire to please. 

His breath tickled your earlobe, his nose nuzzling softly against your cheek. “You are just the most perfect little pet for me, aren’t you, dear?” he whispered. 

A squeak of a half-formed word left your lips, your voice almost entirely lost to his grip on your neck. Sensing your struggle, his fingers loosened slightly. His eyebrows raised in a small, expecting gesture, beckoning you to speak.

You swallowed, wetting your throat. “Yes, Lord Dio.” 

He smiled as fond a smile as somebody like him could manage, before planting a short kiss between your eyebrows. “You could leave me if you wanted to," he murmured against your skin, his deep voice dripping with amusement. "I gave you a Stand strong enough to defeat me." Another kiss, to the tip of your nose, this time. "And yet, here you are. It’s endearing, really."

He was right. You could have left. You could have fought. You had the power to escape, to end this game before it had even begun.

But yet, you stayed. Now you hated the thought of ever being without him. 

He pulled his head away from you slightly. “Now, you know what to do, don’t you, kitten?” 

You nodded obediently. You knew. Your hands, timid but assured, drifted to the front of his pants. 

But before you could continue, he stopped you. Dio grabbed your wrist, his palm cold against you. 

Surprised, your eyes rose from his body to meet his: questioning. Pools of amber bore into yours—unreadable—except for the hint of something rare. 

Patience.

He was waiting. Seeking permission. 

A beat passed, then he spoke. “You are ready for me, aren’t you?” 

You nodded. It was small and quiet, but he knew you. You wanted this. You wanted him.

A slow smirk curled at the corner of his lips, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim candlelight. “Good, good,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist, idly tracing the shape of your veins. He relished the way your pulse fluttered beneath his touch, as if you were made to be held like this, delicate yet utterly his.

“I never want you to be in any discomfort,” he continued, his voice softer and smoother now. “But perhaps I needn't worry…We fit so well together, sweetheart.” 

A soft, indulgent chuckle bubbled from his chest at his lewd little tease. The sound sent warmth pooling deep in your stomach, and before you could stop yourself, you let out a breathy laugh, caught somewhere between affection and desire. 

Then, he leaned back in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, tender kiss that stole what little breath you had left. His touch was paradoxical—reverent and affectionate, yet firm enough to remind you of exactly where you stood. His fingers tightened ever so slightly against your skin, before he pulled away. 

Dio’s eyes were full of calm, something almost content. He took your hands in his, thumbs pressing lightly against your knuckles before guiding them away from his body. The coolness of his skin sent a shiver up your spine, a stark contrast to the heat simmering between your bodies.

“Allow me,” he said. A silken promise.

He admired the twinkle of anticipation in your eyes for a short moment. A slow, knowing smile played at his lips, as if savouring the way your mouth hung ever so slightly open, how your hands twitched against his skin, threatening to grab him and draw him in. His fingers drifted downward, grazing over the fabric that separated you from what you both craved. The soft click of undone fastenings filled the air, mingling with the hush of breathless expectation. 

His green belt was discarded, buttons released with enough haste to convince you he wanted you as badly as you did him.

The sight you were greeted with made you bite your lip. The perfect combination of length and girth–flawless velvety skin. A thick vein that pulsed in his arousal that ran up the underside. And he was so hard. It almost looked painful. His cock stood proud and at attention, nearly reaching his navel. 

You would have loved to kneel between his legs and fuck your own throat with his dick whilst he held you by the collar. But he was already squeezing the base in his fist, manoeuvring you with his grip on your hip to hover you over his eager cock. 

He pulled you close–so close your nipples were brushing against his skin, and lined himself up with your slit: slick and syrupy with your essence. He rubbed his thick uncut tip between your folds, gathering some of your wetness over the sensitive skin before dragging it down, letting it catch on your entrance. Pressing into you slowly, he let out a sigh as his cockhead was engulfed by your warmth.

The way he seated himself inside you was exquisite torment—the way your pussy stretched around him, his dick filling every inch of you with a pressure so tight, so overwhelming, it bordered on unbearable. It was too much and not enough all at once. Your body moulded around him as he pressed deeper, claiming space inside you that has never felt so deliciously occupied. 

“Dio…” you sighed, exhaling shakily to abate some of the bittersweet stretch. 

His grip on you tightened, and before you knew it, you were moving, but not of your own accord. Dio moved your body to his liking, dragging you up and down his length, in and out of your wet heat in slow, languid grinds. 

One hand lingered at the front of your collar, fingers curled, a quiet yet commanding reminder of his strength—how easily he can move you, how effortlessly he can seek out his own desires. The muscles in his arm flexed as he guided your movements. He didn’t just let you ride him; he controlled it, lifting you, dragging your cunt along the full length of his cock with a pace slow enough to tempt you to beg for more. 

He was such a vision like this, skin exposed, eyes trained on you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You had no idea how he could look so composed when his dick was splitting your depths open–only a slight pinch of his bottom lip beneath his canines betraying his true pleasure.

 His grip was ironclad at the backs of your thighs, fingers sinking into your supple, soft skin, anchoring you in place. The beginnings of your pleasure started to flutter warm and light between your legs as strings of mewls escaped your lips. But just as you were starting to get excited, he stilled.

No more of that sweet friction, no more movement, just heat and fullness—his body locked against yours, buried so deep you swear you could feel the shape of him moulded inside you. Your thighs trembled where they saddled his hips, the tip of his cock pressing firm against your cervix, teasing the edges of pain and pleasure. 

He tapped your hip with the pad of his finger, summoning your attention. “You are such a good girl,” he hummed, giving your flesh an affectionate caress. 

Christ, you could have almost come from just that. 

He held your gaze through hooded eyes, watching you, drinking in every shudder, every half-strangled whimper you couldn’t quite bite back. You wanted to keep being good for him, to stay quiet. You tried not to whine too much, but the way he filled you, how he held you there as if it was where he belonged–it was impossible not to. 

His grip never faltered, keeping you there, holding you in place as he tilted your chin up to pull you into a kiss. Slow, consuming, his lips claiming yours as thoroughly and deeply as his body did. His mouth moved against yours, his tongue tracing along your lower lip before slipping past, tasting you, stealing every shaky sound you gave him. He kissed you like he owned you, like he needed you to be his from the inside out, and it sent a violent rush of heat to where his cock was buried inside you. 

And then, he shifted you—rocked your hips forward, kept fucking himself with your pussy and rubbed your clit up against the flesh above his cock. His skin was cool, and the little flecks of hair there tickled your sweet spot so perfectly. The friction was immediate, electric, and he did it again, guiding you, dragging you over him in a rhythm he knew would break you apart. 

“Let me hear you, kitten,” he purred, his voice a low command against your lips. “Don’t be shy.”

Your breath stuttered as you moaned softly, pleasure cresting sharp and dizzying. He took the opportunity, pushing a thumb between your parted lips, holding them open as your expression melted: pleasure-drunk, fucked-out, utterly wrecked for him. The fullness inside you, how he rubbed your clit against his body: over and over again until your slick dripped down between your bodies in warm rivulets– you were going to cum so hard you’d choke. 

He was relentless in drawing out your pleasure, each movement of his devastatingly precise, pushing you closer, closer, until you shattered.

 A sobbing gasp tore from your chest, your breath catching in your throat. Pleasure burned through you in waves, your pussy clenching and fluttering around his cock as you came, trembling, undone, all for and because of him. 

Your nails dug into his back, anchoring you, carving crescent-shaped marks where your fingers had once rested so softly, so gingerly against his shoulders. The contrast was stark—how delicacy had melted into desperation, how your hands clutched at him now, as if holding on was the only thing keeping you tethered to the world.

He shifted. He held onto you just a bit tighter as he fell onto his back, dragging you down with him by his hold on the leather around your neck until your body was flush against his. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he pinned your front against the broad plane of his chest, solid and warm. His pecs pillowed your hands where they settled against him for balance, his heartbeat a steady thrum beneath your palms, grounding you even as he lifted his hips and speared you with his cock with a fervour that stole your breath. 

Lifted you again. Up, down, up, down . Your hips crashing into his with a force so great you swore he was beating into your womb. You couldn’t see him, but the way he fucked you told you loud and clear that he was focused entirely on his own orgasm.

Each sharp cry that tore from your throat was swallowed by his own, your separate moans converging into one high-pitched, broken whine that stuttered with every ruthless thrust. Each stroke sent pleasure ricocheting through you, stretching you open, slamming into the deepest, most sensitive parts of you. He knew exactly where to aim, exactly how to push you far enough to break your mind but not your body. 

“Come on, my sweet girl,” he murmured, voice thick with desire, ragged with need. “Let me pump you full of my seed… give me a child, my kitten.”

The words sent a fresh shock of heat down your spine, something primal and instinctive sparking in your blood. You were aware, somewhere, in the farthest reaches of your mind, that he had a young son somewhere. The thought of him as a father, with you as a mother, of bearing something of his inside you, it made your breath catch, made your thighs tighten around his hips as if beckoning him to stay deep inside you. 

“I can’t wait to see you all soft and full…” he groaned, his hold on you possessive, reverent. “All heavy with my child… you’d be even more beautiful.”

His thrusts grew erratic, his grip on the collar around your neck bordering on desperate as his hips beat against yours in uneven thrusts. With one final push and a husky moan, he buried himself to the hilt and spilled into you, painting your walls with spurts of warm, fecund cum. He held you down, anchoring you in place as he let each rope sink deep, as if willing it to take.

He didn’t pull out. 

He held you there, locked against him, his breath shuddering through parted lips as his chest heaved beneath you. 

For a long moment, there was only silence. The slow ebb of heat, the sticky, sweaty, breathless aftermath. He pressed a kiss to the side of your hair.

And then, a pause, barely perceptible, like the world had hiccupped, like time had skipped a beat. He was pulling away as if he had kissed your forehead, his hand tangled softly in the strands of hair at the nape of your neck. 

Eventually, he sighed, stretching beneath you before settling again. “You know,” he mused, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “if you don’t move soon, I might not be able to resist staying here.”

You scoffed, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him with a playful smile. “Then I’ll stay.” 

He pretended to consider it, planting another soft kiss to your lips before rolling you both onto your sides, tucking you against him. “Fine. But I do not take orders from you. Do not get any ideas, pet.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Lord Dio.”

An amused hum in your ear. “Sleep, sweet girl,” he murmured against your hair. “I’ve got you.”

And you did. Safe, warm, wrapped up in him.

[tsuchinokoroyale]

You steam tsuchi? Like what you do to soup dumplings?

[ofliterarynature]

tbr challenges • february 2025

Print: Changeless / Blameless by Gail Carriger

Graphic Novel: First Test by Pierce/Grayson/Farrow; The Girl from the Sea by Molly Knox Ostertag

Audiobook: Wizard's First Rule by Terry Goodkind

25-in-25: Wizard's First Rule by Terry Goodkind; Penric and the Shaman / Penric's Fox by Lois McMaster Bujold

[adhdandcomics]

you ever fuck a menial task up so monumentally that you have to sit there for a moment wondering how you graduated college, or, more accurately, how you’re even smart enough to be alive

[dragonagegallery]

Veil Jumper's Armor

By Charles Lim

[mitamicah]

My secret santa gift for @sepetajmikolikomehoces in the Bojere fanbook discord 🥹💗

[elderwisp]

the mullet is a creepy pasta

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmm musical cultivator shen yuan again. Feng Xuanlu, the Wind Song. He has this well-loved wooden pipe he inherited from is adoptive father that he uses on occasion. When the traveling day gets slow and he doesn't feel like singing, when he's stressed, when night falls and he's sitting around a fire with his troupe and they've all had a little bit to drink.

His hair is long and black, always tied up into a ponytail or a braid of some sort. When he's in camp he loosens it up until its splayed messily over his shoulder. He has crows feet around his eyes that scrunch up when he smiles. His eyes are bamboo green and his hands are rough and callused from years of plucking strings and work. He has scars on his back that he won't explain the origins of.

His voice is low and warm like a fire, it gets raspy in the mornings or when he's been humming or singing for too long. He speaks like there's sunshine dripping off his tongue. He speaks soft, he speaks and his voice takes up the entire room. He's spent over a decade hearing his praises getting sung and he still gets shy over it sometimes.

Whenever he goes into town he has to have at least three other musicians with him at all times -- not his decision of course, but the unanimous choice of his companions. Shen Yuan gathers admirers everywhere he goes, and his companions have long since learned that their dear friend and leader is completely unaware of it. So they have to beat off these suitors with sticks.

[conceptofjoy]

i rlly like dirk shattering a mirror drawings he just keeps fighting reflective surfaces and keeps metaphorically (and some what physically) losing. hal on the sink like oooh this lunatic is gonna kill my ass one day. i should poke him

[mollysunder]

Sinco as a ship are such boring middle aged men together, and I think that's beautiful. When they're together all their ruthlessness and banal violence almost cancels out, almost. Silco and Singed aren't after the same goal, but they're both just on the same wavelength that there's no real argument or manipulation, it's just two men in agreement to spend over a decade of their lives working together.

Almost nothing seems like an argument between them, they're just on the same page. Silco and Singed are completely independent of eachother and it makes their relationship all the more intentional. They're both set in their ways in what they want and who they have to be to get it, but the two have carved a space for each other in their lives.

Singed is so sparing with his empathy, but is willing to extend it to Silco, while Silco is willing to trust Singed with Jinx. Except in the case of their children, there's not much further these men go in forms vulnerability for anyone else but eachother.

[macdenlover]

feeling so nauseous thinking about how the crossover means all these strangers perceiving my little evil middle aged babies from my niche indie underground longest running live action legacy sitcom

[mintraindrop]

how cute can someone be?? 🧡 look at him!!

(the fact the we don’t even see his face and I'm freaking out about how cute he is says a lot about me as a person I think...)

[flowerphoenix]

Dertgtober day 3: Runes. (A bit late, thank you work!) 

Pirririri is Sky's loyal assistant and procurer of ´´wares´´  Most in the form of common materials enchanted with rune magic, peddled as mystical ingredients. 

[maddieandangel]

First Ghost doodle page of the year! As I test out a new way of maybe drawing their cloak, based on a headcanon of mine.

[estebunny]

esteban ocon in 2024 season part 4/?

2024-01-25 ✌

2024-01-26 Caving

2024-02-04 with Flavy

2024-02-07 A524 car launch

2024-02-11 Flavy's birthday party

2024-02-13 Choose your fighter!