#Pipe Cleaning Machines

[aaronaccessories]

A Guide to Pipe Cleaning and Cutting Machines in Singapore

Pipe cleaning and cutting machines are essential tools for any plumbing, construction, or industrial project that involves working with pipes.

Whether you need to remove dirt, scale, rust, or other deposits from the inside of pipes or cut pipes to the desired length and shape, you need reliable and efficient machines that can handle the job.

But how do you choose the right pipe cleaning and cutting machines for your project? There are many factors to consider, such as the type, size, and material of the pipes, the level of cleanliness and accuracy required, the budget and availability of the machines, and the safety and environmental standards of the project.

In this article, we will introduce some of the most common types of pipe cleaning and cutting machines available in Singapore, and how they can help you achieve your project goals. We will also mention some of the leading suppliers of these machines in Singapore, such as AARON Accessories Pte Ltd.

Pipe Cleaning Machines Pipe cleaning machines are devices that use various methods to remove unwanted substances from the inside of pipes. Depending on the method, they can be classified into:

• Internal pipe cleaners: These are machines that use pressurized air, water, or chemicals to blast away dirt and debris from the inside of pipes. They usually have a nozzle that can be inserted into the pipe opening and rotated to cover the entire surface. Some examples of internal pipe cleaners are:

• Internal pipe blasting equipment: This is a machine that uses pressurized air and abrasive media (such as sand or steel shot) to clean metal pipes from rust, scale, paint, or other coatings. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of 60mm to 280mm. • Internal pipe water jetting equipment: This is a machine that uses pressurized water (up to 3000 bar) to clean pipes from grease, oil, sludge, or other organic matter. It is suitable for pipes with 20mm to 1500mm diameter. • Internal pipe chemical cleaning equipment: This is a machine that uses chemical solutions (such as acids or alkalis) to dissolve mineral deposits (such as calcium or iron) from pipes. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of 25mm to 300mm

• External pipe cleaners: These are machines that use brushes, scrapers, or other tools to clean the outside of pipes. They usually have a clamp that can hold the pipe in place and a motor that can rotate the tool around the pipe. Some examples of external pipe cleaners are:

• External pipe brushing equipment: This is a machine that uses wire brushes to remove dirt and rust from the outside of metal pipes. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of 50mm to 300mm • External pipe scraping equipment: This is a machine that uses metal scrapers to remove paint or other coatings from the outside of pipes. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of 50mm to 300mm.

Pipe Cutting Machines Pipe-cutting machines are devices that use various methods to cut pipes to the desired length and shape. Depending on the method, they can be classified into:

• Manual pipe cutters: These are hand-held tools that use blades, wheels, or chains to cut pipes by applying manual force. They are usually cheap and easy to use, but they may not be very accurate or fast. Some examples of manual pipe cutters are:

• Pipe cutter: This is a tool that has a sharp wheel that can cut through metal pipes by rotating around them. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 100mm.

• Pipe saw: This is a tool that has a blade that can cut through plastic or PVC pipes by moving back and forth along them. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 160mm.

• Pipe chain cutter: This is a tool that has a chain that can cut through cast iron or clay pipes by tightening around them. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 600mm.

• Electric pipe cutters: These are machines that use electric motors to power blades, wheels, or chains to cut pipes by applying mechanical force. They are usually more accurate and fast than manual pipe cutters, but they may be more expensive and require electricity. Some examples of electric pipe cutters are:

• Electric pipe cutter: This is a machine that has a sharp wheel that can cut through metal pipes by rotating around them. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 300mm.

• Electric pipe saw: This is a machine that has a blade that can cut through plastic or PVC pipes by moving back and forth along them. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 400mm.

• Electric pipe chain cutter: This is a machine that has a chain that can cut through cast iron or clay pipes by tightening around them. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 900mm.

• Hydraulic pipe cutters: These are machines that use hydraulic pressure to power blades, wheels, or chains to cut pipes by applying fluid force. They are usually more powerful and versatile than electric pipe cutters, but they may be bulky and noisy. Some examples of hydraulic pipe cutters are:

• Hydraulic pipe cutter: This is a machine that has a sharp wheel that can cut through metal pipes by rotating around them. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 600mm.

• Hydraulic pipe saw: This is a machine that has a blade that can cut through plastic or PVC pipes by moving back and forth along them. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 600mm.

• Hydraulic pipe chain cutter: This is a machine that has a chain that can cut through cast iron or clay pipes by tightening around them. It is suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 1200mm.

Pipe Grooving Machines Pipe grooving machines are devices that use various methods to create grooves on the ends of pipes. These grooves are used to connect pipes with couplings or fittings without welding or threading. Pipe grooving machines can improve pipe installation and maintenance efficiency and safety.

Depending on the method, pipe grooving machines can be classified into:

• Roll grooving machines: These are machines that use rollers to press grooves into metal pipes by rotating around them. They are suitable for pipes with 25mm to 600mm diameter.

• Cut grooving machines: These are machines that use blades to cut grooves into metal pipes by moving along them. They are suitable for pipes with 50mm to 900mm diameter.

Pipe Threading Machines Pipe threading machines are devices that use various methods to create threads on the ends of pipes. These threads are used to connect pipes with couplings or fittings by screwing them together. Pipe threading machines can provide a strong and leak-proof connection for pipe systems.

Depending on the method, pipe threading machines can be classified into:

• Manual pipe threading machines: These are hand-held tools that use dies to create threads on metal pipes by applying manual force. They are usually cheap and easy to use, but they may not be very accurate or fast. They are suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 50mm.

Electric pipe threading machines: These are machines that use electric motors to power dies to create threads on metal pipes by applying mechanical force.

They are usually more accurate and fast than manual pipe threading machines, but they may be more expensive and require electricity. They are suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 150mm.

Hydraulic pipe threading machines: These are machines that use hydraulic pressure to power dies to create threads on metal pipes by applying fluid force.

They are usually more powerful and versatile than electric pipe threading machines, but they may be more bulky and noisy. They are suitable for pipes with a diameter of up to 300mm.

How to Choose the Right Pipe Cleaning and Cutting Machines for Your Project As you can see, there are many types of pipe cleaning and cutting machines available in Singapore, each with its own advantages and disadvantages. To choose the right ones for your project, you need to consider the following factors:

The type size and material of the pipes: Different types of pipes may require different methods of cleaning and cutting.

For example, metal pipes may need blasting or brushing, while plastic or PVC pipes may need water jetting or sawing.

Similarly, different sizes and materials of pipes may have different limitations and specifications for cleaning and cutting. For example, larger or thicker pipes may need more powerful or specialized machines, while softer or brittle pipes may need more gentle or precise machines.

• The level of cleanliness and accuracy required: Different levels of cleanliness and accuracy may require different methods of cleaning and cutting. For example, if you need to remove all traces of dirt, rust, paint, or coatings from the inside or outside of pipes, you may need blasting or scraping equipment. If you need to cut pipes to exact lengths and shapes, you may need

[asexualbookbird]

i think ive earned some big gate energy time

[emergencyplumbingil]

Hydro jetting is a highly effective method of cleaning and unclogging sewer pipes. It involves using a specialized machine that generates high-pressure water streams to remove debris, grease, tree roots, and other obstructions from the inside of the pipes. During the hydro jetting process, a professional plumber will insert a flexible hose with a specialized nozzle into the sewer pipe. The hose is connected to a high-pressure water machine that can deliver water at pressures typically ranging from 1,500 to 4,000 pounds per square inch (psi). The plumber carefully guides the hose through the pipe, allowing the pressurized water to blast away any blockages and thoroughly clean the pipe walls. The high-pressure water effectively cuts through and flushes out accumulated debris, roots, and other substances that may be causing clogs or reduced flow. As a result, hydro jetting can significantly improve the functioning and flow capacity of sewer pipes. Hydro jetting is often considered a preferable option compared to traditional drain snaking or chemical treatments because it offers a more thorough and long-lasting cleaning solution. It can reach all parts of the pipe, including bends and joints, effectively removing any built-up material. However, it's important to note that hydro jetting should be performed by trained professionals with the appropriate equipment and expertise. Improper use of high-pressure water can potentially damage older or fragile pipes. Therefore, it's crucial to consult with a licensed plumber who can assess your specific situation, determine if hydro jetting is suitable, and ensure the process is performed safely and effectively. If you suspect you have a clogged or slow-draining sewer pipe, you can contact us to discuss hydro jetting as a potential solution. We will be able to evaluate the condition of your pipes and provide the appropriate course of action to address the issue.

With multiple locations throughout North Shore and Northwest suburbs of Chicago, Illinois, Emergency Plumbing offers prompt and professional plumbing services.

Phone 224-754-1984

[rockwood790]

 Introduction

In the metalworking industry, having the right tools is very important for achieving efficiency, precision, and high-quality results. Among these tools, hydraulic pipe benders are popular for their versatility and reliability. At Rockwood Machinery, we know the unique needs of metalworking professionals in the UAE and are dedicated to providing top-quality hydraulic pipe benders that meet these demands. In this blog, we’ll discuss the importance of hydraulic pipe benders, their applications, and why Rockwood Machinery is your best choice in the UAE.

Why Choose Hydraulic Pipe Benders?

Hydraulic pipe benders in UAE shape metal pipes into specific angles and curves without damaging the material. Here’s why they’re essential:

1. Precision and Accuracy: Hydraulic systems allow for controlled bending, ensuring you get the exact angle you need every time.

2. Versatility: These benders can handle various pipe sizes and materials, including steel, copper, and aluminum.

3. Efficiency: Hydraulic pipe benders boost productivity and reduce worker fatigue by reducing manual effort.

4. Durability: Designed to withstand heavy use, these machines offer long-lasting performance, making them a smart investment.

Where Are Hydraulic Pipe Benders Used?

Hydraulic pipe benders are used across many industries, such as:

- Construction: Ideal for bending pipes for structural frameworks, plumbing, and HVAC systems.

- Automotive: Essential for creating exhaust systems, roll cages, and chassis modifications.

- Shipbuilding: Used to form pipes for the complex plumbing systems in ships.

- Manufacturing: Perfect for making components for machinery, furniture, and other metal products.

Why Rockwood Machinery is Your Best Choice in the UAE

At Rockwood Machinery, we offer several hydraulic pipe benders customized to different industrial needs. Here’s why you should choose us:

1. Extensive Product Range: From manual to fully automated systems, we have the right hydraulic pipe bender for every job.

2. Quality and Reliability: We source our products from reputable manufacturers to ensure top quality and dependability.

3. Expertise and Support: Our knowledgeable team is always ready to provide technical support and advice to help you choose and maintain the right equipment.

4. Competitive Pricing: We offer great prices without sacrificing quality, ensuring you get the best value for your money.

5. Comprehensive After-Sales Service: Our commitment to customer satisfaction doesn’t end with your purchase; we offer full after-sales service and support.

Success Stories from Our Customers

Our clients across the UAE have experienced great improvements with Rockwood Machinery’s hydraulic pipe benders in the UAE. For example, a top construction company saw a 30% boost in productivity and much less material waste. An automotive workshop appreciated how easy and precise our equipment is, helping them finish custom projects more quickly.

Conclusion

In the busy world of metalworking, having the right tools is very important. Rockwood Machinery’s hydraulic pipe benders offer the precision, flexibility, and efficiency you need for any bending job. Whether you’re involved in construction, automotive, shipbuilding, or manufacturing, our top-quality hydraulic pipe benders are perfect for steel fabrication machines in the UAE. They will meet and exceed your needs, ensuring high performance and reliable results.

[ceslmachine]

Transforming raw material into masterpieces. Visit us at CES to witness the magic of sheet plus tube laser cutting.

https://ceslasermachine.com/sheet-plus-tube-pipe-laser-cutting-machine/

[mahirapoly]

Top 10 Benefits of Investing in an Automatic PP-HDPE Cheese Pipe Cleaning Machine

Keeping your cheese production lines running smoothly is crucial for efficiency and product quality. Manual cleaning of cheese pipes can be time-consuming, labor-intensive, and potentially introduce inconsistencies. An automatic PP-HDPE cheese pipe cleaning machine offers a solution to these challenges. Here are the top 10 benefits of investing in one:

Increased Efficiency and Throughput: Automatic machines can clean pipes several times faster than manual methods. This frees up your workforce for other tasks and significantly boosts overall production output. Imagine the additional cheese you could be producing while your pipes are being cleaned automatically!

Reduced Labor Costs: By automating the pipe cleaning process, you can significantly reduce the number of employees needed for this task. This translates to substantial cost savings in the long run, allowing you to invest those resources back into your business or offer more competitive pricing.

Enhanced Hygiene and Food Safety: Automatic machines provide a more consistent and thorough cleaning process compared to manual methods. This minimizes the risk of cheese contamination by bacteria or other pathogens, ensuring you meet the highest hygiene standards and deliver a safe product to your customers.

Reduced Downtime for Faster Production Cycles: Faster cleaning times lead to less downtime between production runs. This keeps your cheese-making process running smoothly, allowing you to maximize production time and meet customer demands efficiently.

Improved Product Quality from Consistent Cleaning: Consistent and thorough cleaning with an automatic machine helps prevent cheese residue build-up inside the pipes. This, in turn, leads to a better quality final product with consistent taste and texture. Your customers will appreciate the difference!

Minimized Waste for Environmental and Cost Benefits: Automatic machines can efficiently remove debris from cheese pipes without damaging them. This reduces overall waste, minimizing your environmental footprint and lowering disposal costs.

Improved Worker Safety: Automating the cleaning process removes workers from the potential hazards associated with manual cleaning. This includes exposure to harsh cleaning chemicals or repetitive strain injuries that can occur from scrubbing pipes. Invest in the well-being of your employees while achieving better cleaning results.

Increased Scalability for Future Growth: Automatic machines are designed to handle larger volumes of cheese pipes efficiently. This makes it easier to scale up your production capacity in the future without needing to overhaul your cleaning process.  Be prepared to meet growing demand without sacrificing hygiene or efficiency.

Lower Long-Term Costs: While there's an initial investment, automatic machines offer significant cost savings over time. Reduced labor costs, minimized waste, and improved efficiency all contribute to a strong return on investment.

Reliable Operation for Consistent Performance: Modern automatic cheese pipe cleaning machines are designed for reliable operation with minimal maintenance requirements. This ensures consistent performance and minimizes disruptions to your production schedule. Focus on what you do best – making delicious cheese – while the machine takes care of the cleaning.

Mahira Polyglobal: Your Trusted Partner in Cheese Pipe Cleaning Solutions

Mahira Polyglobal, a leading manufacturer and worldwide supplier of cheese pipe cleaning machinery, offers high-quality automatic PP-HDPE cheese pipe cleaning machines known for their efficiency, durability, and innovative features.  For more information on how Mahira Polyglobal's machines can revolutionize your cheese production process, visit their website.

[taruu03]

Taruu: Your Source for Reliable Sewer Pipe Cleaning Equipment

The sewer pipe cleaning machine provided by Taruu is a state-of-the-art equipment designed to efficiently and effectively clear blockages and debris from sewer lines. Equipped with powerful hydraulic systems and specialized cleaning tools, this machine can tackle various types of clogs and obstructions, ranging from grease buildup to tree roots.

Designed with user convenience and safety in mind, the Taruu sewer pipe cleaning machine features intuitive controls and robust construction. Its versatile design allows it to navigate through different pipe diameters and configurations with ease, ensuring thorough cleaning throughout the sewer system.

Visit for more info : https://www.taruu.in/sewer-pipe-cleaning-machine.html 

Address : No. 5270 B, GB Road, New Delhi-110006, Delhi, India

Mail : manoj.mpsa@gmail.com

Phone no : 91-98918 83887

[subzerosol]

Flange Tool Kit | Subzero solutions

We Subzero Solutions are Portable pipe beveling machine and Flange Tool Kit manufacturers in Mumbai. This Machine is suitable for workshop and on-site application due to its portable design We carry extensive stock of our standard products to ensure we meet our customer's needsin the quickest turnaround time. Our aim is to give complete package for our customers from advising industry- leading solutions to giving customised products for specific applications within the committed time frame. For More Details Visit Our Website https://subzerosolution.com/flange-tools/

[osamucide]

BITCHBOY ⊹

. . . ft. Osamu Dazai

wc: ~6.8k

cw: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. icky pervy stoner roommate!Dazai <333 also pathetic wet cat mess of a man Dazai, afab+gn!reader, established roommate relationship, no established romantic relationship, implied bi!Dazai if you squint, referenced whore!Dazai, weed smoking+intox/noncon (reader says "stop" once and he does not stop), dubcon (becomes 'consenual' but Dazai's coercive+they're high), noncon elements can be interpreted (esp at the end) to be roleplay with prior consent! dirty talk, shotgunning, fingering, squirting, kissing, penetration, creampie, insulting nicknames (Dazai receiving), biting, this is depraved and I will answer for it on judgement day

reid: he’s all i think about.

tags: @kalsplace

You’re grumbling under your breath when you’re about to cross the threshold to your apartment because, as if the rest of your day hadn’t been annoying enough, your stupid key decides to give you extra trouble—as of late, it’s not working unless you jam it in the lock at a very specific angle and jiggle violently until just before you’re sure the knob will fall off, all whilst cursing your landlord’s neglect of the crummy old building like some enchantment or spell that ties the whole rage-inducing, access-granting ritual together.

Couldn’t your good-for-nothing roommate hear you struggling with it?

“Hey, sorry,” he chirps too brightly for the evening hour, floating out of his room as you shut the door behind you with a sigh—ever the mind reader. You forego your eye-roll this time; you’re convinced that one of these days they’ll get stuck in your skull what with how much you do it. You hear Dazai sauntering toward you as you’re shrugging your jacket off, hanging it up, tossing your bag on the table. “Was busy.”

You’re ready to turn and scowl at him, but when you face him, he’s waggling the little pipe in your face—the green one with blue flecks in the glass, undoubtedly what he was busy with while you broke into your own home—and you won’t admit that you already feel your irritation start to melt away when it slides from his fingertips to yours. You clutch it, latch onto the mouthpiece, and watch as the brunette flicks the flame out and lights you up.

You exhale gratefully, take one more pull, and hand the glowing bowl back for him to catch the remainder of before he lights it again. “Thank you," you croak before short cough leaves you. “Was real close to bitching you out for not leaving the door unlocked.”

Dazai blows his smoke directly back in your face with a small grin. “Redeemed by my weed once again.”

You chuckle and wave it away, making a point of sliding by him and toward your room to change. You need to unwind a second before dealing with him for the rest of the night. “‘S’all that ever redeems you. Crack a window, will ya?”

It’s really not a bad arrangement to have a live-in pot dealer—that’s basically what Dazai is and has been as long as you’ve roomed with him. Sure, he's also a pain in your ass; the man can hardly cook, you had to show him how to use the washing machine in the common area when you first moved in, and only a bit ago, after almost half a year of sharing a living space, have you convinced him to keep his mess of discarded socks and food packaging contained within his bedroom. It took a lot of harsh reprimanding about how you're not his parent and he's not your teenage son for you to realize it'd be a little of his own medicine to get him to start taking you seriously. Leaving your empty takeout box on the coffee table right where he liked to eat his, tossing your sweatshirt over his spot on the couch and refusing to move it for days—he took the message, albeit smugly, after that, and hasn't given you trouble since.

Even despite being a pain in the ass, though, especially now that he at least cleans up after himself, you have to admit you don't hate his presence in your home and in your life. You chalk it up to how infuriatingly charming he can be—you know he's a detective, and he's certainly got talents for sniffing out your emotions, solving your day-to-day problems, and smooth-talking, but all of that falls under being nosy and weird when he tries to guilt you into praising him for it. If he was any less annoying, you'd maybe even admit to yourself that he's kind of attractive; only physically, of course, which you've known since the day you met him, but any other way he might be—retaining a heavy air of mystery in spite of how bubbly he is, occasionally inviting you out drinking (mostly so you can drag him home once he overdoes it), smoking you up without asking for money—is just so overshadowed by what a fucking weirdo he is. You can’t separate it.

He certainly keeps you on your toes.

That’s really the worst thing about him. You know you’ll exit your room to grab your leftovers from the fridge and he’ll be pestering you to watch some movie with him—probably one of his cringy rom-coms (the fact that he watches and unironically enjoys them serving only marginally to make him a little more of an interesting character) during which he'll sling his feet across your lap or curl up into you so he can pinch your side once or twice just for your reaction, leaving you red in the face and mildly irritated while he giggles condescendingly at you. But as you always do, you think as you sigh and lift the hem of your sweater to curl it over and off, you’ll concede.

Your head’s caught in your sleep shirt when you hear your door creak open.

“Um, privacy?” you half-yelp—something you’re still figuring your way around with him. You jump out of line of the door as you poke your head through the neckline to shoot him that glare you saved from moments earlier.

Dazai just snickers, eyes wide and innocent. You're naked from the waist down. “Could’ve locked it.”

“As if that would stop you,” you snap back, stretching the hem over your thighs and ass as you skitter awkwardly back over to the edge of your bed where a pair of comfy shorts lay. “Get out!”

“Will you hurry up and put your pants on? I got My Big Fat Greek Wedding locked and loaded.”

“Yes, yes, just get out.”

He’s still snickering when he disappears behind the door. He doesn’t shut it all the way, and you mutter freak beneath your breath, secretly hoping he hears you.

You tug your shorts on and meander back out as the intro rolls, set on your leftover homemade tonkatsu; as you settle cross-legged with your plate on the couch, Dazai reaches over and plucks a piece of cabbage off it.

You side eye him as you chew. He’s already occupying himself with packing another bowl—he must've finished the first one himself. You'd half-expect him to reach for one of the prerolls he keeps in the coffee table drawer so as not to have to go to the trouble again, but he does.

“You eat yet?” you ask carefully.

He shakes his head as he uses the butt of the lighter to press it down. Of course not. Even weed doesn’t make him eat. You’ve expressed concern over his eating habits before, but he always dismisses you with a hum and that smug smile.

You make a point of tearing the remainder of your cutlet in half with your utensils. When he reaches out to pass you the pipe, you reach back, chopsticks pinching a hefty piece of pork.

Dazai raises his eyebrows at you.

You raise yours in reply, as if to say, take it, or I’m not smoking anymore with you.

So he does, reluctance veiled thinly by amusement. You know him well enough by now; or, you think you do, at least. As he chews, he balances the chopsticks back on your plate and turns to you with the lighter, curling his own legs beneath himself.

Only satisfied when he swallows, you set your plate aside, face him, and press the pipe to your lips again, looking to him. To his pretty brown eyes that search you owlishly, that you swear sparkle with a little more vigor after even the smallest bit of sustenance enters his system. Maybe you should just leave him to starve, but then where would you get your weed? You’re an idiot, you’d say if you weren’t waiting on his flame.

But before he can light it for you, he pulls the lighter away, and you chase it with a soft hey—he’s grinning at you again, like a devil, like always.

“You always do that, you know?” he asks.

“Do what?” you mumble impatiently against the piece.

He gives in and dips the flame down into the bowl; you inhale deep, flower crackling softly as you do, and he only answers when the smoke’s halfway down your throat.

“Look up at me all cute like that every time I light it for you.” Those brown eyes bore into yours and you become aware all too quick of the fact that you do—you do indeed peer up at him through your lashes; your eyes water as smoke burns your throat and you blink away, trying not to cough out your hit at how he’s gazing at you, but he doesn’t stop there.

He would never stop there.

“Makes me think bad things.”

So you cough out your hit anyway.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask, choked, face red from more than just the sting of the weed. You busy yourself with pulling another hit while it’s still lit.

“Mhm,” he agrees. “Lots of ‘em.”

Your head swims now—you’ve built up a decent tolerance from living with him, but forgetting to breathe at his words and zeroing the huge puff you take next surely doesn’t help. You cough again, and nothing leaves your lungs this time as you debate whether to take his challenge.

Another thing you’ve learned about Dazai—he loves to fluster people. If living with him wasn't enough proof, you’ve seen him do it millions of times to pretty bartenders, or on the off-chance his partner from work joins you drinking; off-chance, truly, because Kunikida already has to put up with Dazai all day at the office, and anything more than what’s required of him might be better off called torture rather than fun. And beyond loving it, Dazai demonstrates it like a long-honed skill—the exploitation of people’s humiliation, the monopolization on people’s most sensitive spots. He had previous work in it, he’s said, but you can’t imagine what job could possibly entail all that. You think he just doesn’t know when to shut his mouth—no, he’s smart enough to know when to; he just doesn’t like to. He’s what most people would refer to as an asshole.

And yet, you find yourself torn between feeling disgusted and entertained by him all the same. Although you often find yourself the victim of his little mind games, you’re not above jabbing back at him. What does that make you, you wonder? The question briefly crosses your mind, but you shake it off as, in your buzz, you swat away the bait; decidedly, you’d rather watch My Big Fat Greek Wedding in peace, finish your tonkatsu, and then go to bed tonight.

“You’re gross.” The scoff you let out sounds more like a chuckle.

Dazai tilts his head, flicking the lighter for you again; he sparks the bowl as he watches you, as if in exceptional contemplation, and you make a point not to do it again—you inhale and gaze straight down at the flame.

“You don’t wanna hear what it makes me think about?” he asks cutely, unwilling to let you get away just yet.

You ignore the slight flush undoubtedly on your own face as you slip the bowl back to him; doubly so, you try not to watch the way his lips wrap around the mouthpiece.

But right now, you can’t seem to help that your bleary-eyed attention is on him. Just as he exhales, you remember you haven’t replied.

You’re not quick enough. He doesn’t take your silence as an invitation; it’s an opportunity. You see it in his smirk, just a second too late.

“Makes me think about how pretty you’d be looking up at me like that from your knees.”

He’s good at his games—he invents them, after all. But you’d be damned if he thought you wouldn’t shut him down when you weren’t in the mood.

“Yeah, no, don’t particularly wanna hear about it, thanks.”

This might be a new low, even for him, you think. Who the fuck just says shit like that?

When you think about it a second longer, though, he really hasn’t brought anyone home to fuck obnoxiously (a boundary you were quick to set with him) in at least a couple weeks, so maybe he’s just pent up. Either way, his comment makes you wrinkle your nose, furrow your brow—hopefully negating the pink inevitably tinting your cheeks. Fucking weirdo.

“N’ now you’re blushing all cute, too,” he observes; you scoff again, more pointedly this time. “Thinkin’ about it?”

As if, you want to say, but the words get stuck against the roof of your dry mouth, so you conjure up some of your spit, swallow it down, and hope he doesn’t notice—but it’s Dazai; he will—that your high's settling onto your shoulders swiftly. He’s pointing the bowl back at you, and as you grab it robotically, you’re still trying to speak—a sure sign you should both shut up and keep your places on opposite ends of the couch and watch the movie and finish the tonkatsu, but instead you just balk. No matter what you do, you play right into his hands—that’s how it happens all too often, and you certainly won’t learn now or anytime when his weed’s coursing up to your brain and back down to your thumping heart. Dazai lights your next hit for you, laughing like it’s all some big joke, and maybe it is—maybe you’ll blow your smoke in his face this time and pick up your tonkatsu and shut up and just watch the damn movie.

As if you’d ever be so lucky with his antics.

You’re shaking your head in near-awe when you pass it back to him once more.

“I mean, we basically kiss through this thing all the time,” he says like it’s relevant, waving the pipe about. “I don’t think it’d be so weird if we fucked. Or if you sucked me off, at least.”

“It—it would totally be weird, Osamu,” and when you speak his name so lightly, blinking at trying to muster up your own laughter as a defense mechanism, his sight flickers up to yours. “That doesn’t even—I’m not sucking your dick.”

“Shame,” he purrs. “‘Cause I know how pretty you’d look. Your lips all wet and pouted against my t—”

“Oh, my god, shut up.” Now you laugh, out of pure disbelief at how far he’s taking it. He pokes at the tail end of what’s left in the bowl and chuckles, too, seemingly ready to let it go now that he has you laughing. "You're horrible."

The more you let him talk about it, the more you entertain him, maybe you can let it peter out.

“What about me? Do I look pretty when I do it?” he asks, batting his lashes as he pulls another hit off the pipe.

“Sure, yeah, whatever,” you let your laughter idle as he doesn't tear his gaze away from you. He looks pretty. Whatever. You cross your arms as you feel the familiar tingle of your high behind your eyes.

“Would I look pretty on my knees?” he prods.

You could slap him—if nothing else, just to make his face burn half as much as you know yours is. When he sets the bowl and lighter aside and goes back to observing you, eyes low-lidded and red, chin rested on his hands, propped up by his elbows on his crossed legs, you have half a mind to shrink away from him—but you keep cool, even if the way you're at eye level with his searing stare feels a little too intimate.

You mirror his position. “Hmm, I don't know.” You steal his thoughtful tilt, too, and tack on, “Maybe if you were begging like a little bitch.”

You're prepared for him to laugh tauntingly again and then let this die where it stands because he got a reaction out of you, right? That’s always what he’s looking for, so it’s about time he goes back to his corner of the couch where you'll bully him into a few more bites of tonkatsu.

But he stays locked onto you, quietly.

And then he's shifting forward off the couch and down to the ground.

“Osamu—”

“Uh-uh,” he chides you softly, crawling to situate himself directly in front of your figure. Looking up at you all cute. “I’m gonna be the one begging, remember?”

Your disbelief swirls with refusal as he paws at the hem of your shorts as if to say, turn, please, and fuck—what can you do other than turn red as a rose as he grabs your ankles, unfurls your legs, and props his chin on the cushion between your thighs? You feel alarmingly higher, blearier when his fingers creep up beneath the fabric, slowly, looking at you as if for reassurance.

“We're not—you can quit fooling around, seriously.” You want to laugh again but it comes out deadpan, strict; you feel heavier with each landing of his fingertips against your skin, and he just keeps looking up at you. Cute. Pretty. Taking it too far.

“I want to,” he mumbles, retracting his hands only for them to find your hips, your waistband. “Come on. ‘Wanted you so bad for so long. I know you want me, too,” he speaks your name slyly, quietly, and it prompts your breath to quicken a little; he traces circles into your hipbones with his thumbs, toys with the elastic at your waist, snapping it softly, and you squirm. “Please?”

For so long? you think. How long?

“I—I'm not high enough for this, Osamu,” you try to joke, but he just twists around to the coffee table drawer for one of those prerolls and his lighter.

“I can get you higher,” he offers—tone still much too innocent, motives still haphazardly veiled by what a big jokester he is, and he sticks the joint between his lips and lights it.

Before you can coherently protest, he rises, supporting himself on your thigh with one hand and removing the joint from his mouth full of smoke; when he leans into you, you catch his wrist to keep him from ashing on the back of the couch, grab his face in a half-attempt to stop him in his tracks—but ultimately, when his mouth meets yours, you open for him.

The plume of smoke he shotguns into your mouth is thick; you breathe it in. His palm like a brand against your thigh.

And he doesn’t stop.

“Osamu,” you whine against his lips, still mushing his face away and hating how your dry throat roughens your voice. He just kisses you, kisses you, and your fingers find the pulse point in his wrist—he’s a decent kisser, you think, at the very least. You have half a mind to let your fingers slide to the mess of brown hair beyond the apples of his sharp cheekbones, and—

You backtrack in your mind. You’re actually probably too high for this.

You have to detest the way it feels so heavenly when he squeezes the fat of your thigh, dodges your lips, and works steadily in a line from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, all tongue and teeth in his pursuit. You have to detest it. Fucking weirdo, you repeat in your mind. The joint burns between his fingers. You snatch it from his grasp and pull your head back, raising your feet to kick him weakly in the abdomen, and he relents—your toes feel asleep when they hit the carpet again, and you hoard the joint between your fuzzy fingers when he reaches for it back.

“Osamu,” you say again, stern, eyes wide. The weed. You're high. You're both high, and this is weird. He’s just your weirdo roommate and you got home wanting to end your stressful day without complicating anything else in your life today.

So why, when he looks at you like you’re a caged animal that’s just as afraid of him and he is of you and works the joint from your fingers to take another drag, do you let him cup your face and exhale more smoke down your throat?

Why do you chase his lips when he blissfully, needily, sinks to his knees once again and starts to traverse beneath your shorts?

With the right focus of mind, like staring at your hand when you’re spinning and convincing yourself that the world around you is actually moving and you’re staying still, you can almost pretend he’s a stranger—some sexy, enchanting stranger that you met on the train home after your shit day, meant to relate to you with docile nods and hums as you air your grievances about work or school or whatever, meant to kiss it off you like it’s just a little bit of dirt.

Getting out of your shorts is like getting out of second skin. You're taking another hit, unwise or not, because it's back in your hand and you don't know what else to do; you watch him in your haze with a mix of anticipation and distrust, but right now, anticipation is winning by a small margin. You’re high, you tell yourself—twitching already, in that way that has nothing to do with desire but rather just means you've smoked a little too much too quickly, and the idea that Dazai might still fake you out and send you to bed feeling half-hot and bothered, half-violated, with no pants on and a near-empty stomach bobs around in your inhibited brain—again, you expect him to laugh, say you’re fried, clap you on the shoulder and tell you it's a joke but he doesn’t, he cranes for a hit from the joint and you hold it to his lips shakily and he touches you on the exhale, the pads of two of his fingers nestling carefully between your folds over your underwear and when he brushes your clit it’s—

Fuck, it’s electric.

“Osamu, stop,” you say, hoarse and abrupt, grabbing his wrist. "I'm—"

“What?” he asks, teasing lilt to his tone. Beneath your hand his thumb comes up to replace his fingers, to loop circles around you, and you're shuddering, back bowing, and he's grinning at you wickedly.

“I—I'm high,” you admit, voice feeling thick, soupy as it leaves your throat.

“So? Me too.” He blinks at you, slow like a cat, in a way that you're pretty sure he's still mocking the way you apparently always flutter your gaze at him when he lights you up. “‘S the best way to do it.”

“Yeah, but—”

He doesn't interrupt you with but what?

And yet, you still don't finish your sentence.

You glance down to where he’s rubbing you gently, where you hold him at bay—where you could yank his arm and twist it uncomfortably if you really did want him to stop but the longer he circles over the fabric that’s growing increasingly, alarmingly wetter, the more you melt away from yourself and you think, fuck, he really is gorgeous as he’s resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh.

“Scoot forward f’me, please?” he almost whines; his voice changes, stricter when he says, “And stop letting that burn. Smoke it.”

And you comply, shuffling your hips forward and placing the filter between your teeth.

Dazai looks up at you. All cute. Heavy-lidded, red-eyed. Hungry.

And you look back, apprehension sparking but then fading with each drove of smoke you inhale. Heavy-lidded, red-eyed. All cute.

“Let me taste you, please,” he almost whispers. You almost find yourself a little endeared by his pointed pleases.

“This is fucking absurd,” you croak, but your resolve is leaving you. He’s a little blurry. “You’re such a sicko.”

His smile widens against the word. Sicko. Almost like he’s pleased to hear it leave your mouth. “Surprised it took you this long to figure out, baby.”

His touch is impatient and restless and crawling as your underwear goes, too—and you don’t appreciate how good it felt when his thumb was on your clit until it’s back again and you’re slipping the joint out of your mouth to let you jaw fall slack; you tangle a hand up in that messy hair that is much softer than you could’ve imagined and all but yank him back toward your cunt.

“Please,” you echo him, finally. “It felt so good—do it again.”

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages you in your whimpering, fingers prodding at your hole and tongue landing a feather-light lick to your wetness. “I know you want it.”

The sounds are lewd. Disgusting, really—fitting for how he’s acting. Dazai swirls his tongue in circles around your clit as he works his middle and ring fingers into you; cracked gasps leave you at the intrusion, and you can’t keep your eyes open when he curls them upward ever so slightly as he makes out with your clit. If you were sober you’d, of course, be embarrassed at how you’re already gushing for him, but all your mushy brain can think about right now is the sparks bolting to your otherwise-numb fingers and toes with each suction of his pretty pink lips against you—isn’t this wrong? Shouldn’t you feel weird? Yeah, probably—but you’re forgetting why, and you’re forgetting to care.

He hums against you and it sends a shockwave throughout your already-vibrating body; the moan you release into the air is like song, even to yourself. Is he really good at this, you wonder, or is it the weed?

Oh right, the weed. The weed, the weed, the weed.

You pull his mouth off you, almost dropping the joint that’s not much of a joint anymore—only the filter remains.

“I don’t think this is—”

Fuck, you keep going back and forth. You keep breaching the surface just for him to tug you beneath the water again and convince you the drowning feels nice. And it does, for a few seconds—until it starts burning your lungs to a crisp again, at which point you tear away from him kick up, and in the moments you spend sucking in air you don’t get how he stays beneath for so long, like it’s nothing, how he doesn’t stop—he doesn’t stop, his fingers still curling inside of you, and you’re going under again to the sound of his voice.

You feel suffocated. More delirious by the second. It’s nice.

“You already told me it feels good,” he mumbles against you, lapping at you, and you’re letting up on his hair, letting him become a weight again where you should float.

And the lack of oxygen must be getting to your brain because, even though you still don’t think you want to drown, you cease your kicking. For the last time.

“Osamu,” you cry. It sounds like a moan. It might be.

“I know, I’m such a sicko.” There’s no remorse in his words; there can’t be, not when he’s still curling up into your g-spot in just the way that makes you croon his name again—undoubtedly a moan this time—but when he comes into focus again, he looks so apologetic. “You can say it again, baby. It’s okay.”

“S—sicko,” you mutter disapprovingly, but rolling your hips all the same.

He smiles. Soft, kind, apologetic.

You’re scared to move. You know if you do, you’ll both be able to see the wet stain collecting beneath you on the cushion. You feel it.

So you barrage him with more.

“You—you’re a fucking pervert. You’re disgusting.” You feel wetness on your face, too. You deduce that it’s from how perfect his fingers feel inside you, goading that warm slick out of you and into his palm, onto the couch; regardless, you don't stop berating him, your tone harshly contrasting your wriggling hips. “You disgust me.”

“I think you like it.” He presses up, hard, and you gush, gasping. A short, clear spurt narrowly misses his face; he leans back down to lick it off, off the cushion, off your thighs, off your crying cunt. “I think you like how nasty I am.”

“Disgusting,” you whisper. “Disgusting. You're disgusting.” It’s a little chant you hold onto as he rises again to kiss you, messily—a means to replace his lips with his wet fingers, shoving them past your lips and against your tongue where you lap at them instinctually, like you’ve been waiting for it. It’s so wrong to be tasting yourself on his fingers, but your eyes roll back anyway, just to lurch forward as his hand retracts and you find him grinning once more as he slips his sweatpants and boxers down in one swipe. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” Dazai mocks, giggling. “You just tasted how fucking wet you are.”

“Osamu,” you whine as he kicks his garments aside; you begin to draw your feet up, your knees to your chin, but his hands, stronger than you anticipate, pry you open and flip you to your back and he grins, biting into his bottom lip all the while. Why, you wonder, when the dim living room light glints off his teeth as he situates himself between your legs and leans down to cage you in between his arms, do your hips hitch toward his? Why are you so adamant to deny him?

“You gonna say it again? C’mon, I love hearing my name,” he breathes, ducking down to lick across your jawline. “But I love when you call me those words. Say it again. Tell me how nasty I am.”

“You’re the worst,” you groan, but it sounds comical, even to your own ears, because you’re scratching at his shoulders in a way that draws him closer to you rather than further away.

“More, baby,” Dazai hums into your neck, reaching down to swirl his tip against your wetness. When you feel him, you jump.

It feels good. It feels even better than his thumb and you don’t know if you’re still on your way up but you feel higher and higher by the second and the instinct to push him off is slipping further beyond your grasp. When he pulls back to watch your mouth fall open as he rubs himself into you, you almost let the word pretty slip past your lips—he looks so pretty, tongue flicking, eyes dark, and you catch yourself with your lower lip between your teeth, reflecting the desperation he conceals in everything but his words.

Pretty isn’t what he wants right now, though—and suddenly you feel compelled to give him what he wants, if only it means he’ll keep touching you like this.

“S’fucking nasty—degenerate fucking freak—” you eek out; you don’t know much longer you can tiptoe the line between repulsion and sheer need, but you’re tilting further and further with each circle of his dick and you can tell he’s getting off on the way you’re lurching into him now, running toward his touch instead of away from it.

You think you need him to fuck you, now, or you’ll cry.

“Osamu, please,” you continue, sounding on the verge of tears now—where you should’ve been before, when you genuinely wanted him off you, yes. You wanted him off of you before. Didn’t you? There was a time, a mere few minutes ago, when his fingers in your skin and his animalistic gaze were revolting. Right?

“What’re you beggin’ me for?” Dazai asks like he doesn’t know. He knows. He knows what you don’t want to admit to yourself and he’s going to dangle it over your head, he’s going to rub it in your face, he’s going to make you answer through your hazy high that he never should’ve come onto you through to begin with, and you’re going to give him what he wants—you always give him what he wants, even if you don’t mean to, even if you don’t want to, but now you think you want to. You want to, because it feels so good, and he’s slowing down, he’s stopping and when he takes his hand away to swipe his thumb across your chin, pull your lip from between your teeth and work your mouth open with his fingers again, the loss almost hurts. You want it. You want to.

It’s going to hurt even more to say it, but you want it. And before you can even get it out, before the words even hit what little air is between your lips and his, Dazai looks thrilled at what you say next.

“Please, fuck me,” you whisper.

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely—” He reaches back down, but the smugness doesn’t waver; his tip catches on your entrance—emitting a lewd squelch that should make you cringe but instead prompts your lip to fly between your teeth again—and you hook your tingling feet behind his back, legs astride his waist as you're pushing his bangs from his face all in one motion. “I guess I’ll fuck you, pretty baby.”

"Yes," the dreaded word falls from your lips when he finally works his way into you, past that tight ring of muscle, to nestle snugly inside you until the head of his cock kisses your cervix.

The noise you draw from him—something between a sigh and a moan—is heavenly. His nose nuzzles the trail he licked across your jaw before and you find your hands linked behind his neck, urging him down, onto you, into you—and when he recoils his hips to thrust back in again, quick and short, you keen against him, pathetically, in a way your past self—the one from four or five touches ago—would hate you for.

You should hate how gross this is. How gross he is for this.

But you don't, and you're not going to torture yourself with asking why anymore.

The friction inside you doesn't feel comparable to anything; for the first time in a second, you feel grateful for the weed pulsing through you. You let your eyes roll back and flutter shut without consequence.

Dazai moves against you like water. Water you're content to drown in this time; his touch doesn't crawl anymore as much as it seems to soothe and as he picks up his pace, brings a hand to your cheek to wake you back up, pull you back above the surface.

"You sound s'fuckin cute," he sighs; those eyes, predatory before, are now just brown and melty, honey-colored backgrounded with red fog, not so searching as much as they seem attentive, not making you feel so uncomfortably vulnerable as they do softly seen. He thinks you sound cute. You giggle through the unrivaled pleasure, giggling through your own moans which hit your ears and do sound cute—sound especially cute woven through his.

"Y'sound... so," you start, "so fucking—unh, Osamu, don't stop!"

He chuckles now, low and breathy, and you push his hair back from his face again; his eyes roll back when you do it, and you just do it over, over, over, drawing clipped groans out of him, stealing the words from his throat as he steals yours and you tug, you tug on his hair and the moan he lets out, broken between thrusts, is so raw and laced with need that you moan in reply, clenching around him because, fuck, he sounds so cute, too. "Wanted this for so long, baby. Pussy feels s—so much fuckin' better than I could've imagined."

"How long?" you finally poke back—you want to know. You want to know how long he's been holed up in the mess of his room, jerking off to the thought of his cute little roommate finally falling between his fingers—you want to know how bad he's wanted this, and if getting you high out of your mind just to get it was worth it. You focus your voice to ask him. "How long you wanted this, 'Samu?"

"So long—since—" he gasps, fucking into you harder, faster, deeper; you tug his hair again, exposing his neck, and yank him down to sink your teeth into his neck. You need the reprieve as he starts hammering against the deepest parts of you, eliciting wet smack! after smack! from between your writhing bodies. You jostle beneath him as he finds his breath; "Since I fuckin' met you. Always wanted you."

"Yeah?" You mean it to be a teasing little rhetorical question but it comes out more like encouragement amidst the bliss radiating from your cunt throughout your whole body, but you find it in you to continue— "You been—you been thinkin' of me under you like this? Like the sicko you are?"

Unbelievably faster and harder. You choke on a scream; Dazai's grunting above you, and it hits you that those names really do spur him on. You're far from offending him—you're bringing him closer and closer to filling you up with each and every insult and jab you throw his way and if you were any less cockdrunk you'd be hurling even more barbs at him about how that makes him so much worse, so much more gross but it just spurs you on, too, right now—and you realize, when he looks at you with those fucking eyes again how bad you want him, how bad you've wanted him, too, for so long; you couldn't—wouldn't admit it because he's just your weirdo roommate but really, maybe that's what you love about him. You certainly love the way he makes your toes curl when he reaches down to play with your clit again. You cry out against him.

"Osamu, fuck!"

"Say it again," he begs you, pretty brown eyes glassy as they fall shut, as the tip of his nose touches yours. "Say it again, please, baby."

You know what he wants.

"F—fucking pervert," you huff, doing everything you can to hold onto the rope that's uncoiling rapidly inside you, coming further and further undone with each slam of his hips into your ass. "Ah—you're disgusting. Disgusting."

You fall back on your mantra and it has his thumb moving faster, harder, just like his thrusts, just like his voice, even if it sounds unconvincing through the shockwaves of pleasure; you feel it, the unraveling, it's washing up on you so quickly, so much quicker than it should be at the hands of your weirdo roommate.

"Don't stop," he pleads like he's not the one fucking you to orgasm; you see white, you feel as light as air—god, has cumming always felt like this? Shouldn't you hate it? Shouldn't you hate that it might never feel like this again?

You do, you do—you hate weed and you hate sex and you hate your weirdo roommate Osamu Dazai for coaxing the most mind-blowing climax you've ever felt out of you, but you don't hate any of those things, not really; you hate that it's never felt like this before, and that it can again if only you can push your pride down for a few more moments and call him a—

"Freak—gonna—gonna cum in me?" you goad, breathless, lucky for speech as he fucks you through the otherworldly high, as you clamp down on him and screw your eyes shut until you can keep going. "Gonna fill me up like the nasty motherfucker you are?"

"Ngh—yeah, yeah, yeah...!"

Dazai, in all his depraved beauty, fucks his fat load into you mercilessly; you twitch, shake beneath him, driving strained sobs from his chest and talking him through with soft yeahs, want y'r cum, filthy fucking sicko freak, you disgust me. He loves it. He falls apart, and you tug on his hair once more as he slows, as he spills out of you, as he looks at you with so much adoration in his eyes.

"You—" Dazai's breathless, heaving. "You're amazing."

You giggle again, wiggling a bit and trapping him further close to you, fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. Soft. You don't feel any less high; just blissed out. "You're cute."

"Knew you thought so," he sighs, lopsided smile coming back; you don't know where in the pleasure he'd lost it, but its return has you tilting your chin up to kiss him once more. Soft. Gentle, sweet, no tongue; not gross, not hungry, just sweet. Satisfied.

"But you're still weird," you tease against his lips. Sly.

When Dazai pulls back, the hunger in those eyes sparks again.

"Want me to show you how weird I can get?" he threatens.

"I dare you," you taunt back.

And he grins, fully and wickedly, once more; you can count on it. He'll show you, alright.

[yonpote]

we gotta discuss skater boy phil tho. he listens to limp bizkit and rage against the machine. he brings emo girl dan to the half pipe and defends her from his chauvinist douchebag friends. when he falls off his board and gets a scrape he doesnt clean the wound cuz he wants to get a cool scar. he just wants to escape this small town.... no one gets him like emo girl dan....

[getawayfox]

Draco works in a bakery. In the back, after it’s closed, cleaning. It’s hard work. He doesn't mind it.

Draco works in a bakery. The same one he’s been working for ages, in the back, except now he works with dough and crème pât. It’s early mornings and long shifts.

Draco works in a bakery. He’s the first one in, unlocking the door every morning. He flicks the lightswitch, turns on the coffee machine. The sign on the door has his name.

Draco works in a bakery, even though he doesn’t have to. The most popular item on the menu, the most ridiculous thing he’s come up with, is sold out every single day. People queue for it in all his locations. He has made his first million galleons ages ago, yet he still comes to work and puts an apron on.

Draco doesn’t work in a bakery anymore because his grandkids begged him to take it easy for once. He bakes at home a lot though, like this morning, a batch of gingerbread cookies; his favourite thing to make, the one that’s made his bakeries famous. He waits for them to cool, coffee cup warming his hands. He pipes on golden round glasses carefully, adds the sharp edges of a lighting bolt. His husband will laugh and shake his head when he comes downstairs.

[ddejavvu]

hi! so I had an early seasons spencer reid request. it's his first day at the BAU and the reader is so taken by him, she has constant puppy eyes and he mentions about needing a coffee and the reader simply gives him her coffee cup and then morgan and emily are like 'you're whipped'

You've only just sat down at your desk with the heated cup, warmth seeping through the cardboard walls and tingling your palms. Emily, JJ, and Garcia all have matching cups, courtesy of the coffee bar three floors down.

As fate would have it, you're excruciatingly close to taking your first sip of the sugary brew when you hear the new recruit, Spencer Reid, pipe up from his own desk just across from yours.

"Agent Y/L/N," He calls respectfully, and you pause in raising the cup to your lips. There's steam escaping the drinking slot in the lid of the cup, but that's not why your cheeks are flushed.

"Hm?"

"Where'd you get that coffee? I didn't see any in the kitchen. Is there a cafe nearby, or...?"

"There's a coffee bar on the fifth floor," You're internally grateful that you're not stumbling and stuttering over your words like a bashful teen, even if there's butterflies running rampant around your stomach, "But we got the last of this batch, it takes them a while to clean the machine and start brewing more."

His face falls, only slightly, but it's noticeable to you as you study his face with rapt attention. Immediately you feel your stomach plummet, and you ramble to remedy his disappointment, "But- uh, here! You can just- have mine." You stand abruptly, reaching over to place the cup on his desk, "I haven't had any yet. And I probably shouldn't, I, uh, I had some earlier and if I have more I won't sleep tonight."

Spencer blinks bewilderedly at the coffee cup now sitting on his desk, and you notice with a different kind of sinking feeling in your stomach that you've attracted the attention of both Prentiss and Morgan.

"Oh. Thank you," Spencer murmurs, clearly taken aback, but grateful all the same, "Are you sure? I- I can wait, if you want it."

"No, take it," You sit back down, trying desperately to retain some grace despite your rather hasty and forward display, "We'll call it a welcoming present."

His cheeks tinge slightly pink, and his lips flatten into an endearingly awkward grin.

"Thanks," He repeats, reaching for the coffee and surely feeling the same warmth you'd felt, "Is there sugar in here?"

"Lots," You nod, and he raises it eagerly to his lips.

"This is exactly how I make it," He decides after evaluating the sip, and you have to clench your fingers tightly to your palm in order to contain a rather large grin.

Once the conversation dies down between the two of you you turn your head back to your desk, even if you'd rather gaze at the new hire all day. It's with shaking fingers that you begin typing on your keyboard again, but an email notification at the lower right corner of the screen catches your eye.

Sender: SSA Emily Prentiss

Subject: Whipped

You click on it with furrowed brows, the term whipped meaning something grotesque in your line of work. Instead of a case file, however, you find a simple message, 'Next time, why don't you just take a sip and kiss it into his mouth? That might be less obvious.'

[rockwood790]

Hydraulic Press Brakes: Essential Bending Machines in the UAE

Hydraulic press brakes in UAE has a crucial role for shaping metal sheets in manufacturing and sheet metal fabrication industries. These adaptable machines are widely used in various sectors for their ability to bend metal into desired shapes and angles. Let's discuss about the significance of hydraulic press brakes and their applications in the UAE.

Understanding Hydraulic Press Brakes

Hydraulic press brakes are the machines used to bend sheet metal and plates by applying a controlled force with the help of hydraulic systems. They consist of a hydraulic ram that exerts pressure on a punch to deform the material against a die, resulting in accurate bends. Hydraulic press brakes offer superior control over bending angles, allowing for complex and precise forming operations.

Applications in the UAE

Metal Fabrication: Hydraulic press brakes are used in different industries like construction, aerospace, and shipbuilding. Commonly produced parts include brackets, panels, frames, and enclosures.

Construction and Infrastructure: hydraulic press brakes are used to fabricate structural components such as beams, columns, and supports with precise bending angles. These components are used in building construction, bridges, and infrastructure projects throughout the UAE.

Automotive Manufacturing: Hydraulic press brakes are used in bending sheet metal parts used in vehicle such as chassis, body panels, and interior components. They ensure consistent bending quality and dimensional accuracy required in automotive assembly.

Industrial Equipment: Manufacturers of industrial equipment and machinery in the UAE rely on hydraulic press brakes to produce components such as conveyor systems, machine frames, enclosures, and structural elements. These machines enable customization and adaptation of parts to specific operational requirements.

Advantages of Hydraulic Press Brakes

Precision Bending: Hydraulic press brakes offer precise control over bending angles and depths, resulting in accurate component dimensions.

Versatility: They can bend a wide range of materials, like stainless steel, aluminum, and mild steel, making them suitable for different applications.

Efficiency and Productivity: Hydraulic press brakes improve production efficiency by reducing setup times and cycle times, resulting in higher output rates.

Cost-Effectiveness: Despite initial investment costs, hydraulic press brakes contribute to long-term cost savings through enhanced productivity and reduced material waste.

Choosing Hydraulic Press Brakes in the UAE

When selecting hydraulic press brakes in the UAE, consider factors such as:

Bending Capacity: Choose a machine with the appropriate tonnage and bending length to accommodate your production needs.

Control System: Evaluate the control system, including CNC capabilities and software features, to optimize bending precision and efficiency.

Build Quality: Select machines from reputable manufacturers known for durability, reliability, and after-sales support.

Safety Features: Ensure that hydraulic press brakes comply with safety standards and incorporate features to protect operators during operation.

Conclusion

Hydraulic press brakes are indispensable tools in the metalworking industry of the UAE, offering precision, versatility, and efficiency in bending operations. By using the capabilities of hydraulic press brakes, manufacturers and fabricators in the UAE can achieve high quality, productivity, and competitiveness in meeting market demands for precision-formed metal components. The adoption of advanced bending technologies contributes to the growth and innovation of the manufacturing sector in the dynamic landscape of the UAE.

[earlysunshines]

chaos and kisses

pham hanni x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: your girlfriend arrives to find your basement flooded, she helps you clean up the mess, but not without checking you out and leaving kisses here and there.

warnings: making out!!! making out... dreamy sigh MAKING OUT!! ; reader has a tattoo ; so fluffy and cute ; mmm nothing else really ; not proofread...

a/n: short n sweet n a lil... freaky (but not really)... finally a fic less than 10k omfg I looovvved writing this and I looovee making out

when you invited hanni over to spend your day off together, she didn’t expect to find you downstairs with water up to your ankles. 

the scene is almost surreal: you, standing in the middle of a flooded room, looking more irritated than surprised. hanni on the steps – safe from the water – mouth agape, taking in the sight of your makeshift dam of towels and the waterlogged furniture. 

“hey babe…” you sigh, looking at her helplessly. “help… please?”

she blinks a few times, processing everything. “what happened? i called you… you didn’t answer…”

"um, i woke up and decided to do some laundry," you explain, gesturing to the water taking up the floor. "then i went back to sleep for a bit, and when i came back… this happened." you throw your hands up in exasperation, pointing out the waterlogged chaos. "fuck."

hanni stands at the entrance, eyes wide as she sees your flooded floor. she blinks a few times, processing the mess, before rolling up her pants and stepping in.

"need some help?" she asks, her tone a mix of amusement and concern.

“please.” you respond, watching her giggle as she ties her hair up.

she follows you toward the laundry room, you’re making exaggerated, grossed-out noises as your socks squish in the water, soaking through your slides. hanni rolls her eyes but can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. she manages to snap a picture of you trudging through the flood, her laughter echoing in your ears.

you glance back and catch her in the act, flipping her off. "really, han? now’s the time for a photoshoot?" you groan, but your smile betrays your amusement.

“adding to my lockscreen rotation.”

you roll your eyes and step further into the room, carefully inspecting the source of the water flooding the basement. peering behind the washing machine, you spot the pipe going into the wall, and water is leaking out. leaning in for a closer look, you’re suddenly met with a burst of water splashing all over your face.

"ugh—" you gasp, closing your eyes and flinching back. "fuck–"

you hear hanni snort behind you, so you turn around with gross, soapy water dripping down your face. you glare at her, feeling frustrated.

hanni can't help but stare at you with a stupid grin on her face. despite the irritation clearly visible in your expression, you look adorable. your hair, clipped back, is now wet at the front, your tank top is splashed with water, plus your shorts are miraculously still dry. hanni loves the sight, reveling in how cute you look even in this messy situation.

she steps over to where you are, you’re looking at the pipe defeatedly, letting the pool of water grow as you do so.

“hey, babe.” hanni says, then kisses your cheek. you turn to look at her with a little pout, which earns a quick kiss on your lips from her. “it’s not the end of the world. i’ll go grab some towels from upstairs and you can grab some duct tape to stop the leaking, let’s just clean up what we can.”

“thank you han.”

“mhm,” she says, then pecks your lips before her hand rubs the soapy water off your cheek. “you look really cute right now.”

you stare at her lips, then pout again. “you always say that.”

"because it's always true," she says, as if stating a known fact, before kissing you once more and trudging out of the room. you can't help but laugh at her expressions, mirroring the ones you made earlier.

–

the water had reached halfway up your calves by the time you finally stopped the leak. it takes nearly two hours for you and hanni to scoop up all the water in the basement and dump it into the shower to drain it out the best you can.

during it all, hanni looks too focused to notice the little splash of water you send her way, which earns you a groan and her cursing at you.

"y/n!"

"we're already wet! it's fine—" you're cut off when hanni kicks her foot up, splashing water onto your shorts. you gasp, scoffing at her and kicking water back. "oh, you’re so—"

you start for her, but end up tripping and falling into the water, landing on your ass with a splash and groaning as the water soaks you through. hanni watches the scene unfold, laughing and practically cackling at you while you use your forearm to wipe water off your face. you groan, looking up at her through your eyelashes, glaring.

“that’s what you get.”

“i hate you.”

“you’re sooo in love with me.”

a small chuckle escapes your lips before you sigh, looking up at her with a desperate expression. “can you at least help me up, baby?” you ask, sitting there helplessly.

your girlfriend giggles once more, then smiles as she says, “fine, fine.” 

hanni steps forward, reaching out her hand to you. as soon as you grip it, you pull her down, making her fall onto you. she lets out a yelp, and water splashes everywhere, soaking her as well. 

“y/n!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of frustration and surprise. “what the hell!”

“now we’re even,” you say, laughing as she sputters, trying to push herself up.

“i hate you,” she mutters, her eyes twinkling despite her annoyance. you’re propped on your elbows, her hands on either side of you, and her legs tangled with yours. as she pulls herself off of you, your faces stay close. she leans in, her nose nearly brushing yours. “you suck.”

“look who’s sooo in love with me.” you tease, grinning up at her. “and you’re sooo adorable when you’re mad,” you add before quickly kissing the tip of her nose.

hanni narrows her eyes playfully, then suddenly presses her lips to yours. the kiss is both tender and heated, the frustration and affection mixing together. you use one hand to cup her cheek and pull her closer to you

correction: it takes nearly three hours to get enough water out of the basement to start cleaning up the floating items and further mess.

when you finally stop bickering (and finally take your lips off each other), you both get to work drying the floor with half the towels from the upstairs closet. hanni scoots around, wiping away the remaining water with a towel under her foot, while you focus on putting the items that had been floating back in their places.

the scene is somehow domestic and ridiculous: hanni gliding around, determined and slightly absurd, and you methodically arranging everything with a focused frown. you share a few laughs despite the chaos, the mess around you feeling a little more manageable with her by your side.

it takes another hour and a half to finish cleaning up the remaining mess, but it’s honestly not the worst considering you’re doing it all with your girlfriend and your mixed playlist together.

hanni finds herself staring at you from time to time, how could she not.

you had been wiping away at a frame with your baby picture picture inside of it, back facing hanni.

your girlfriend stares at you, captivated.

the damp tank top clings to your figure, highlighting the results of time spent working out your back. each flex and movement makes hanni bite her lip, embarrassingly enough. she feels a surge of desire, wanting nothing more than to run her hands over you while kissing you. turning away, she works on drying things faster, motivated by the thought of getting this mess cleaned up quickly so she can have you all to herself.

–

when the two of you finally finish, you stand at the foot of the stairs, admiring the cleaned-up mess – or at least as clean as you could manage. both of you head upstairs soon after because you’re tired of being in the basement.

you groan, leaning against the counter of the kitchen and gulping down a water bottle you found. if you thought all that water couldn’t make you thirsty, you were so wrong.

hanni's thirsty too, but for a very different reason. she’s mesmerized by how the sweat and remnants of the sudden events make you glow, highlighting the curve of your muscles and the small tattoo on your upper waist. the glimpse of your calvin klein boyshorts band peeking out drives her wild too. the exhaustion palpable in you only makes you hotter in hanni’s eyes.

you turn, gulping down water and closing the cap of the bottle in your hand before placing it on the marble surface you lean on. hanni’s looking you up and down, smirking devilishly.

as you look at her, your head tilts. “what?”

“you look so hot right now.”

you snicker, watching her step closer to you. “is that right?” you mutter, placing your hands on the edge of the counter as you lean against it further.

she hums softly, placing her hands on your waist, just below the peek of the calvin klein logo. her fingers toy with the waistband, making your breath hitch. slowly, she slides her hands over your skin and under your tank top, her touch burning your skin.

your abdomen tenses as her fingers trace the ink of the hidden part of your tattoo under your top, sending shivers through you. her head tilts up slightly to meet your gaze, her overgrown bangs still damp and covering her eyes a bit. you gently push them aside, then swiftly shift your hand to cup her cheek.

hanni’s eyes are lidded, fixed on your lips. her hands slide further up under your tank top and make your breath hitch.

“my pretty girl.” she says, voice faint and desperate.

 her fingers graze your ribs before she closes the distance and kisses you. your other hand finds its way to her waist, pulling her closer. you can feel her heartbeat against your chest, rapid and strong. her touch becomes more insistent, her fingers pressing into your skin as if to anchor herself to you. 

the world outside fades away; it’s just the two of you – only the two of you when your lips are connected.

when you finally pull back, both of you are breathless. hanni’s eyes are bright, a mix of mischief and desire dancing in them before she starts to pepper kisses on your jawline, and lightly down to your neck.

you sigh, sliding your hands under her top and squeezing her skin softly. 

“h-hanni,” you mumble, feeling and hearing her mumble into your neck in response. “i know you’re eager, but lets clean up first. we’re all murky.”

“you’re still really hot even if you’re murky.” hanni mumbles.

you laugh as she pulls away to look at you closely, then quickly place both hands on her waist and maneuver her against the counter, switching your positions. she gasps in surprise, her eyes widening. you continue, mirroring her earlier actions by kissing along her jawline and down to the soft skin of her neck, nipping lightly with your teeth. when your breath meets her ear, she bites her lip, a shiver running through her.

“you too,” you whisper, your voice low and teasing. “i want to kiss you until your lips are numb, but we should really finish cleaning up and take this to my room.” 

again, you pull away, looking at the flustered, eager expression on her face. 

“fine… can i wear your clothes?” hanni asks, tugging at your waistband.

“of course.” you respond, then chuckle. “but you still have to give me back my t-shirt you took last time.”

“what t-shirt?” hanni says through a grin, making you roll your eyes and kiss her once more.

“you suck.”

“you want me.”

your breath hits her lips as you mutter back, “maybe a little.”

[ceslmachine]

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