#blow molding products

[smartratework]

pvc electric red and blue wire #smartratework#tumblr

[gudmould]

Design reference for several special screws for plastics

1. PC material (polycarbonate) Features:① Non-crystalline plastic, no obvious melting point, glass transition temperature 140°～150℃, melting temperature 215℃～225℃, molding temperature 250℃～320℃.② High viscosity, sensitive to temperature, good thermal stability within normal processing temperature range, basically no decomposition at 300℃ for a long time, decomposition begins at over 340℃, and…

[pin-k-ink]

kinda common request but ushijima with a size kink 👀

lusus // ushijima wakatoshi

tw ⇢ size difference, size kink, belly bulge, cumflation, mentions of pregnancy and marriage, a couple of clit slaps, teasing, pet names, “just the tip”, creampie, nipple play, unprotected sex, breeding kink

wc ⇢ 6.5k

a/n: i got a bit carried away… :(

It started as an idle observation - one Ushijima couldn't quite pinpoint the origins of amidst the endless cycle of practices, drills, and critical preparations filling his laser-focused mind. But gradually, possibility after innocent possibility arose where he found his sharp eyes catching on the sheer... daintiness of the team's new manager.

The first instance blazed into sudden, startling existence one afternoon as you attempted to ascend the rickety ladder for hanging the championship banners. Engrossed in charting out a fresh tactical overhaul with the coaches, Ushijima only registered your presence in his periphery as a flicker of movement.

Then came the tell-tale wobble of unsteady footfalls on the rungs, followed by a muffled yelp that managed to penetrate even his intense concentration. Before conscious thought could engage strategy, Ushijima was already in motion.

In what seemed like a single, supernaturally fluid heartbeat, his powerful strides had covered the short distance just as the ladder began tipping treacherously from beneath your feet. Another eyelash-blink later, and Ushijima's forearm banded like an iron bar around your trim waist - halting your stomach-dropping plummet with shocking ease.

But just as swiftly as your unconscious peril arose, it was snuffed out again by Ushijima's unhesitating intervention. That smooth-as-oiled-silk response was merely the product of endless repetitions and drilled conditioning honed to surgical sharpness.

What stole the breath from Ushijima's very lungs like a physical force was the sudden, bewildering intimacy of having your curves pressed flush against his chest in that follow-through motion. The way your back arched subtly against his solid wall of support as he cradled your astonishingly delicate frame against the immovable force of his body with negligible effort.

Even through the layered fabrics separating you, Ushijima swore he could feel every pliant inch of your modest silhouette molding against his ongoing inhale. Like liquid sin itself taking hypnotic shape and tempting form against the hardened steel of his physique.

It was such a disconcerting realization in that breathless moment that his brain lagged several precious pulses in catching up with the new data input overload. When Ushijima finally registered the quiet pants of shocked exhales ghosting warmly over the juncture of his throat, the sensory input proved as disarming as a physical blow.

The molten rasp of your breaths so unnervingly close... the plush press of your feminine curves all but swallowed up in the circle of his arms... the dizzying spiral of flowery shampoo and understated perfumes swirling between your two forms in a scent as unmistakably alluring as it was forbidden for the hyper-focused ace to dwell on...

With a ragged exhale, Ushijima abruptly disentangled you both by depositing your feet squarely back onto stable ground and swiftly disengaging contact. Though not before his senses insisted on greedily imprinting every nuance of your shared gravity - from the startled flutter of your lashes against flushed cheekbones, to the pleasing heft and hint of curvature fitting so unexpectedly neatly into his protective embrace.

As soon as the supporting rungs regained their burdened, you'd instinctively straightened with some reflexive murmur about being more careful in the future. But when your luminous gaze finally turned up to meet Ushijima's inscrutable stare, the words seemed to stutter and die on your lips.

For a suspended, molten pause, all the ace could comprehend was the sudden direct line of intimate access now open between you. The way your features were angled up towards him in the wake of that near-debacle, practically commanding his hyper-attuned focus lower...lower...to the utterly disarming swell of your parted lips that Ushijima swore he could nearly taste the breath-warmed fullness of despite no move being made.

It was such an unforgivable lapse of iron focus that in the next instant, Ushijima felt like he'd been doused in the coldest shower imaginable. A violent, full-body rejection of the distracting detour those inappropriate contemplations had nearly started meandering down.

That innocuous moment of dizzying intimacy seemed to awaken something deeply primal within Ushijima's consciousness - an insistent awareness that refused to fade back into ignorant complacency no matter how fervently he attempted to re-immerse in his usual flow of strategies and repetitions.

Everywhere he turned, his heightened attentions now persistently snagged on the same unavoidable observation: just how deceptively tiny and delicate your stature managed to be in direct contrast to his own honed, unyielding physicality.

During grueling practice sessions when the squad formed shoulder-to-shoulder for breaking down gameplay footage, Ushijima couldn't prevent his focus from repeatedly drifting to where you stood off to the side. The way the top of your head barely crested the center of his carved pectorals always delivered a strange molten punch to his gut - awakening unbidden flashes of you tucked securely against that very expanse of muscle mere days prior.

He found his stare lingering overlong on the gentle swell of your throat whenever you leaned in to inspect the tactical court maps unfurled across the staging tables before him. The delicate tendons shifting beneath satiny skin as you swallowed or angled your features in consternation would transfix Ushijima utterly. All he could envision was the scorching brand of his palm spanning that tantalizing column in a possessive caress as he angled your jaw higher to...

The inappropriate trail of thought would initiate a violent sub-routine reboot before it could bloat into something more disturbingly indecent. Ushijima's hands would unconsciously curl into white-knuckled fists at his sides as he forcibly rerouted higher brain function back to the neutral gameplans and optimizations spread before him.

But the struggle to maintain iron discipline only worsened from there as the days marched onwards. Like a riptide pummeling away at his steadfast restraint with each new swell, every innocuous reminder of your distractingly dainty proportions seemed to carve away another chunk of his control.

The mortifying afternoon Ushijima's broad shoulders and over-dense muscle mass saw him catching the spray of an entire water cooler you'd accidentally upended while attempting to carry the ungainly vessel. He hadn't registered more than a vague impression of your strained efforts across the gym before liquid splashed in a wide fan - drenching you from the crown of your head down to the tips of those petite, adorably flexed toes peeking from your sensible flats.

In the span of two lightning inhalations, Ushijima had closed the distance between you in a sinewy viper-strike of potent urgency. His hands - calloused, powerful, and larger than any person's had a right to be - spanned the width of your upper arms in an utterly dwarfing cradle as he instinctively inspected every inch for harm or hurt.

But there was no chance for actual injury of course, only your frozen astonishment and the way every fiber of Ushijima's existence zeroed in on that sudden soaked intimacy with frightening intensity. The cloying scent of your damp locks and the cool moisture beading along the plush pout of your lips in that breathless second redirected every one of his faculties with terrifying singularity.

He was mesmerized by the tiny rivulets of transparency skating across the high, delicate planes of your blushing cheekbones and down the tantalizing silk of your throat. So transfixed by the display of such naked fragility and untapped softness that the world beyond your shared gravities simply ceased to exist for one dizzying eternity...

Until eventually, you emitted the smallest, most temptingly breathy noise of surprise that managed to jar Ushijima from his reverie hard enough to wrench back to reality. Back to harsh fluorescents and squeaking sneakers and ambient shouts of exertion from his teammates resuming undisturbed drills. All the elements of the gym's familiar, safe equilibrium which starkly juxtaposed the darkly decadent awareness now swiftly metastasizing in his conscious thoughts.

Without preamble, Ushijima withdrew from your molten orbit as swiftly as he'd intervened - retracting those dangerously possessive hands before they could map out any more forbidden terrain or shape sin itself around your slender, soaked silhouette. An unforgivable indulgence the calculated, hyper-disciplined ace simply could not permit.

Or at least, so he had desperately resolved to convince himself in that moment of roiling weakness. Even as those traitorous eyes of his drank in one final, searing glimpse at the damp fabric now semi-translucent against the generous swell of your chest, straining invitingly over every tantalizing hint of feminine curvature concealed just beneath that teasing veil...

Encounters like that only seemed to escalate in both frequency and molten potency as the weeks drifted onwards. Until eventually Ushijima realized the gut-punched awareness plaguing his every waking moment was not some freak intermittence to be powered through with sheer determination, but a persistent condition demanding far more creative counterattacks.

Merely avoiding direct proximity to your daintiness proved an exercise in abject failure when the rest of the team apparently relished any opportunity to loudly emphasize the stark contrasts in your respective statures. As if the very sight of Ushijima's broad-shouldered bulk looming effortlessly over your petite figure acted as flashing neon bait to the resident school of minnows always nipping at his heels.

"Hey y/n! Get over here and compare hand sizes with Ushiwaka for the squad contest!" Tendou's vocals pierced the din of one post-practice cooldown with all the subtlety of a backfiring jet engine.

Ushijima felt his spine go ridgidly upright at the grating tones, shoulders unconsciously squaring off as he braced for the juvenile antics sure to fol--

"Yeah, find out if the great Ushiwaka's hands are truly the most gigantic mitts on the team, little lady!"

You obediently trotted over with an exasperated roll of your eyes, already offering up one slender wrist in resigned acceptance of whatever crass "competition" the randier hooligans had concocted during Ushijima's rare mental lapse into the indecent reveries swiftly spiraling out of control.

Before either of your startled regards could register, Tendou eagerly snatched at your proffered appendage and wrenched it upward in a comparative display beside Ushijima's own outstretched palm and fingers. The contrast in size made the breath stutter harsh and molten in the ace spiker's lungs.

Your soft, tapered digits barely spanned from the pointed tip of Ushiwaka's calloused thumb to the first knuckle at the base. Like comparing a child's plaything to the implacable, sinuous strength of a well-oiled machine purposely engineered for delivering controlled devastation. It abruptly felt utterly unconscionable for the two examples to be juxtaposed so overtly.

"Well I'll be damned..." Semi drawled somewhere from the peanut gallery, voice heavy with meaning. "Our little homeroom angelcake has Thumbelina hands after all!"

A few raucous hoots and whistles greeted that filthy observation, no doubt aimed at further fanning the flames of Ushijima's suddenly tenuous restraint. His free hand curled into an unconscious white-knuckled fist at his side as raw, unfettered possession roared to vivid life in his veins like an insidious poison.

The primal urge to snatch your tiny wrist free from Tendou's irreverent grip and reclaim your delicateness into the protective circle of his embrace grew increasingly maddening with every rasping inhale. To erase every set of degenerate eyes currently devouring the soft vulnerability of your feminine composition with their sordid regards from existence entirely. All while drowning in the molten awareness of how utterly and effortlessly your fragility fit beneath his dominion.

Only your smooth, infinitesimal squirm of apparent discomfort broke through the toxic spiral starting to cloud Ushijima's enraged senses in ruby shades of sin. His stare snapped to your features instantly, honing in on the way your cheeks had gone ruddy pink, your generous lips pressed into a flat line of perturbed propriety.

Meeting those wide, reproachful eyes - so innocent yet utterly unguarded in their honest chastisement - acted like a bucket of arctic water over the flames engulfing Ushijima's possessive urges. You didn't deserve to be subjected to the darker facets of awareness cresting inside the Ace's subconscious, he rebuked himself harshly. The quiet dignity and warm support constantly exuded by your graceful presence within their team dynamic far outstripped any sordid justifications brewing within his own repressed psyche.

Heavy footfalls crunched in the stale auditorium hush surrounding the gym as Ushijima turned on his heel to stalk mindfully away from further temptation. He couldn't trust his mental fortitude around you anymore, not with these unaccountable lapses into devouring indecency plaguing his iron restraint.

At least, not until the reckless firestorm of primal hunger silently raging in his core had been expertly doused and redirected once more into something resembling their usual polished professionalism.

Behind him, the continued jeering whoops and whistles dissolved into background static, tuned out utterly in favor of his silent, singular mission to wrestle his runaway restraint back into immovable discipline before it was too late...

The fever pitch of Ushijima's smoldering awareness continued spiraling to dizzying new nadirs with every subsequent team outing. As if some unspoken cosmic force seemed hellbent on testing the superhuman restraint of even the most stoic and unshakeable ace with a relentless barrage of fresh intimacies.

The yearly athletics festival proved to be a particular gauntlet of temptation in that regard. Your petite stature made navigating the rowdy crush of bodies lining the parade route essentially impossible without getting hopelessly turned around or even inadvertently trampled amidst the chaos.

Which was how Ushijima found himself glancing over at one point, only to feel a molten punch of concern twist his gut at the tableau laid out before him. There you stood, straining up onto your tiptoes in a fruitless attempt to glimpse whatever activity currently held the crowd's raucous attentions in thrall from your disadvantaged sightlines.

One broad sweep of his discerning gaze rapidly took in the squirming press of torsos and rippling sea of elevated arms boxing you into a near-suffocating pocket of confusion and mild panic. Your features pinched with that unmistakable look of overwhelmed dismay Ushijima was swiftly coming to recognize as a siren's call demanding his undivided intercession - propriety and personal restraint be damned.

Without preamble, his powerful strides easily ate up the short distance separating you as he shouldered his way through the rowdy crowd with unhesitating force. A few surprised yelps and grunts of displeasure met the wake of his passage. But Ushijima paid them no heed whatsoever, already caught up in the scorching undertow of his singular mission.

No words were exchanged, no by-your-leaves requested or offered as he coasted to an abrupt halt before your petite silhouette. You didn't even have a chance to register his sudden, looming proximity before Ushijima had already stooped into an effortless crouch and banded one heavy arm behind the pliant give of your knees.

The other swept out to catch the surprised bend of your lower back in a fluid, steely arc - essentially scooping your entire diminutive frame up into the air with all the ease and negligible effort most would exert when retrieving a magazine from the coffee table before them.

A soft, startled noise punched its way past your parted lips at the abrupt relocation. But before any reflexive protests could surface, Ushijima had already straightened back up to his towering full height with you easily cradled in the protective circle of his arms.

From this elevated vantage just beneath his squared jawline, you couldn't begin to even see over the tops of his powerful shoulders -- much less rejoin the rest of the team amidst the crowds. Ushijima's broad, marble-carved features stared inscrutably down at you through those perpetually shadowed lenses as a lush wash of heat flooded your cheeks.

In that suspended heartbeat of molten connection sizzling between you, the Ace spiker permitted himself the indecency of simply...savoring the moment stolen away against all propriety or restraint. Of drinking in the ephemeral impression of having your waifish curves and feather-light composition utterly subsumed within his protective embrace with utterly zero effort extended.

He allowed his larger-than-life palms to map out the delicious give of your lower back and hamstrings in one unhurried, possessive caress. Was mesmerized by the tiny, delicate bones of your wrist and the swell of tendons shifting beneath fragile skin as you instinctively curled your fingers over the carved geometry of his clavicle to steady your ascent.

There was simply no denying the rapturous delight thrumming through Ushijima's every tendon at how unimaginably minuscule you felt gathered against the solid wall of his torso like this. How confidently, how naturally your slight form seemed to melt into the cradle of his broad arms and chest as though every inch of whittled musculature had been divinely sculpted with this exact indecent cradling in mind--

With a harsh inhalation lancing through his nostrils like dragonsmoke, Ushijima abruptly resumed his sinewy strides forward once more - jaw clenching on a punishing grind as he ruthlessly smothered that wildfire of wanton fantasies before they could truly ignite. He refused to allow himself to be so thoroughly unmade and derailed by your doe-eyed prettiness again and again...no matter how transcendentally perfect your fragility felt molded against his immovable dominion in reality.

No. He was the consummate discipline in humanoid form, the very avatar of hyper-focused intensity and restraint. He would not be reduced to some dribbling, base cretin rendered incoherent by the fleeting impressions of tenderness and possession currently drug-hazing his senses.

Or at least, that's what Ushijima fervently told himself with every subsequent footfall resonating between you. Even as your quiet, self-conscious giggle of amusement suddenly wafted up on a humid zephyr - close enough that he could taste the sweetness of your breath on his tongue.

And close enough to rip the foundations out from beneath his fragile reasonings once again...

Ushijima really should have known better by now than to allow any scenarios where prolonged proximity to you proved unavoidable. And yet, time after time he seemed to stumble into these charged intimacies through sheer happenstance or unthinking habit.

Like the afternoon you'd both ended up seated side-by-side reviewing fresh game footage, with the rest of the team circled loosely around the solitary monitor on offer. It had seemed innocuous at first - nothing Ushijima hadn't experienced a thousand times before amid the endless cycle of preparations and chalk-talk sessions.

But the moment you shifted slightly closer, brushing your shoulder companionably against his in the tight confines, everything abruptly snapped into hyper-focused clarity once more. Ushijima became excruciatingly aware of even the most infinitesimal details radiating off your modest frame in dizzying waves.

The delicious floral bouquet of your shampoo and subtle perfume swirling between you in one intoxicating melange. The silken friction of your skirt whispering against his thigh with every minute readjustment. Even the warm puffs of your quiet breathing seemed to skate tantalizingly down the side of his throat in a searing caress he couldn't shake.

It was like being unwillingly submerged in an ocean of scintillating distractions and forbidden temptations, all designed to lash against the rickety moorings of Ushijima's restraint. He grit his molars hard enough for his jaw to creak in protest, determined not to allow himself to drown in those swirling indulgences again so easily.

Until the moment you made an abortive move to rise from the enveloping couch cushions - no doubt intending to step out briefly during a lull in the tactical breakdown occurring.

Before any rational thought could properly engage, Ushijima's hand was already lashing out in a reflexive, steely arc to halt your departure. Those same powerful fingers and sinuous tendons he relied upon to bludgeon spiker after spiker across the net wrapped like an immovable vise around your upper thigh with zero difficulty.

The jolt of heated realization that slammed into him was as disorienting as a physical blow. Ushijima froze utterly at the dizzying impression of his palm and splayed fingers spanning nearly the entire circumference of your thigh with space to spare. Of how easily that compact muscle strained and flexed beneath his grasp - as though every individual tendon comprising your modest curves had been purposefully scaled down to entice maximum inspiration from proportionally oversized grips like his own.

You'd startled at the unexpected contact just as thoroughly, pink lips parting to release some muffled noise or breathy exclamation of surprise. But all of Ushijima's strained focus abruptly hemorrhaged elsewhere in the wake of that heated touch.

All he could process was the rapturous give of your soft skin pulsing like molten silk against his calloused fingertips as you instinctively pressed back into the solid cradle of the sofa. The fine vee of your pelvis canting subtly against his knuckles in a sleek, powerful motion somehow throbbingly evocative of wholly indecent undulations and surrender.

An incendiary tidal-wave of wanton fantasy detonated behind Ushijima's eyes without preamble. Of ruthlessly leveraging his disproportionate physicality to seize every inch of your pliant, untapped softness in an iron grip and wringing out plaintive whimpers with each filthy glide of supplication...

Only your startled squirm and the faintly bewildered look now creasing those delicate features managed to pierce the scarlet haze building to criticality in Ushijima's skullfornace. Those too-large fists of his slowly unclenched from their vice with what felt like herculean effort -- leaving a burning imprint of possession seared into his flesh where unforgivable temptation had blossomed in the blink of an eye.

"Ushijima-san?" you queried hesitantly, no doubt picking up on the sharp disquiet simmering beneath his stoicism like corrupted code refracting beneath a still surface.

He didn't dare meet your gaze fully, instead making a Herculean effort to refocus on the tactical video still playing across the monitor before you both with hypnotic regularity. Perhaps if he immersed himself in those safe, sterile patterns once more, the more primal spirals of desire trying to pull him under again could finally be filtered ou—

"I'm just going to get some air," Ushijima growled before you could probe his sudden storm front further. He was on his feet before the words had even finished rasping past his lips, strides already eating up distance from your molten gravities in an urgent retreat.

The confused furrow pinching your brow as you watched his abrupt departure didn't even register to Ushijima. He was already compiling fresh deterrent subroutines in a frantic bid to wrangle back control of the rising inferno intent on consuming him from within over any further innocuous intimacies.

The dam finally burst during one of their routine evenings reviewing overhead camera footage from practice drills in Ushijima's private quarters. What should have been a perfectly sterile, professional exercise in optimizing spike angles and read progressions rapidly snowballed into something far more insidious.

Perhaps it was the dimness of the solitary desk lamp casting intimate shadows across your features as you leaned over the scattered topography of notes and stills spread before you. Or the way you'd automatically settled onto the edge of Ushijima's bed for lack of a second chair, creating a molten tableau of softness amidst his spartan sleeping arrangements that screamed of sin in the flickering half-light.

Whatever the catalyst, all it took was a single absentminded brush of your bare calf skimming up against Ushijima's as you shifted your weight - and every last vestige of restraint he'd been desperately grappling to maintain went nuclear in an eyeblink of culpability.

The live-wire frisson of that ephemeral contact jolted straight down to his very foundations like a lightning strike forking the sky. Before his conscious mind could fully grasp what was happening, Ushijima had already reacted on searing instinct honed across endless hours of emergency reads and scenarios.

In one blurring inhalation, his hand whipped out to lock around the flexing swell of your knee in an inescapable vise. With the other fist riveted into the mattress behind your hip, he effortlessly leveraged that staggering differential in strength to swivel your entire frame flush against his own coiled undulations before you could strangle out more than a whimper of surprise.

The rapturous juxtaposition of having your supple, dainty softness suddenly splayed out so nakedly within the cradle of his indomitable physicality very nearly punched every stray volt of higher reasoning from Ushijima's razored focus in a single shattering detonation. Finally, FINALLY, you were pressed so exquisitely into the scorching brand of him with zero boundaries or illusions of propriety separating you.

His senses veritably whited out beneath the molten lash of that merciless sensory overload as your heady bouquet, your delicate warmth, the whisper-slick friction of your cotton shorts clinging to the flexing sinew of his quads all slammed home in a rapturous deluge. For one endless, shuddering inhale, the primal immensity of having your frail, coveted prize conquered within his dominion rendered Ushijima utterly unmade.

Only one other base compulsion seemed capable of piercing that blinding nova scorching away the last vestiges of lucidity between you. With a harsh growl that seemed to emanate from the very dregs of his subconscious, Ushijima surged forward - simultaneously dragging your pliant form further into the cruel vanquishing of his embrace as he sealed his lips over yours in a branding conflagration of possession.

Any muffled whimpers of surprise or protests were instantly swallowed up and reduced to mere background white-noise in the wake of that indecent detonation. You instinctively melted and writhed, alternating between fitful struggles and the boneless surrender of prey before an apex predator's unhesitating advance as Ushijima's mouth plundered yours with nearly animalistic intensity.

Every hot exhalation stuttering from your gasping lips was instantly consumed and made air by the harsh rake of his next growling inhale. Lush whimpers transmuted to molten keens as his calloused palms mapped out every untapped inch of softness and burgeoning curve with searing brands of marking possession.

The taste of you on his tongue rapidly became the single point of obsession anchoring Ushijima's restraint to reality. Cloying floral and hints of something sweeter--the remnants of candy you'd treated yourself to earlier that day no doubt. The knowledge that he was finally savoring the true essence of your temptation after being starved of it for so long only served to inflame his primal desperation to experience everything all at once.

His iron-wrought frame visibly shuddered and heaved with each fresh glut of restraint rapidly ceding ground before that onslaught of unleashed lust. Everywhere his grasping hands ventured, electric ribbons of molten desire seemed to trail in their wake - intent on bathing you in the scorching, centered totality of pleasures Ushijima so rarely ever permitted himself to indulge at all.

Before that towering obsession could well and truly drown you beneath roiling tidal waves of sin, a final gossamer filament of conscience finally managed to penetrate the eruption enough for Ushijima to tear his lips free with a hoarse, bestial snarl of exquisite torment.

"You...have no idea..." he rasped in a slaughtering graveled baritone drenched in consumed want yet still somehow begging for Purchase. For you to meet him in the raging inferno of abandon he'd prepared to burn for. "What you do to me, little one..."

A desperate noise punched its way free from the back of your throat at those words - as if voicing the very same primal understanding now thrashing at your core as well. You were suddenly everywhere at once, pliant and heated and utterly unraveled, panting hot entreaties against the fury of Ushijima's next merciless inhale.

"W-what do I do, Wakatoshi?"

A harsh groan rattled loose from somewhere deep inside the ace spiker's chest cavity at those words. At the sheer, audacity of them. The brazen invitation they implied.

It was a question he couldn't possibly answer in any rational capacity. A question that demanded total and utter subjugation in the face of its overwhelming implications.

And one which Ushijima could no longer refuse.

With a vicious exhale, his broad, calloused palms slid to cup the generous curve of your rear in a claiming caress. Without pause, Ushijima dragged you upwards against his rippling torso, angling your head and lips back against his with an unhurried, deliberate savagery.

This kiss was different from the others. Gone was the frenetic pace and wild abandon of your initial collision. Now, his mouth moved over yours with a languid, unrepentant thoroughness - mapping out every seam and crease of plush compliance with the implacable, measured focus he normally reserved for the court.

A breathy keen vibrated from the center of your throat, and Ushijima seized the opportunity to delve deeper with a sinuous twist of his tongue, claiming the wet warmth of your mouth for his own once more. His large fingers dug into the pliant swell of your rear, kneading and spreading the supple globes apart until he could feel the wet heat radiating off your pussy soaking through the thin fabric of your shorts against his straining arousal.

A groan tore loose from Ushijima's chest, raw and needy, as he began rocking his hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding his clothed cock into the slickness gathering between your thighs. The feel of your cunt pulsing against his length was like a match striking a dry forest. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd been so hard. So fucking desperate.

But the way your arms locked around his neck and your slim legs hooked around his waist as he continued rolling his hips sent an avalanche of need roaring through him. It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. He wanted you spread and bared, wanton and desperate beneath him.

"On your back, little one," he growled against the damp swell of your bottom lip.

The way your pupils dilated and your eyes darkened at the order was so damn sexy. The way you scrambled to obey was even sexier.

Without releasing his grip, Ushijima lowered himself atop you, careful not to let the full weight of his bulk rest upon you. He was a big man. Too big to risk crushing your smaller frame beneath his.

He would have to find other ways to keep you pinned beneath him.

With the tip of his index finger, he traced a path down the silky column of your neck, over your collarbone, and across the slope of your chest, watching as your nipples pebbled and hardened under his feather-light touch. He paused for a moment, admiring the view, and then he slid his finger down to the hem of your shirt.

He lifted his eyes to yours. "Arms above your head."

Your eyelids fluttered as you lifted your arms over your head, your breath coming in short bursts, and then you complied.

Ushijima pulled your shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him. He didn't bother unhooking your bra. Instead, he shoved it up, baring your tits to his hungry gaze.

He dipped his head, capturing a nipple between his lips and sucking it into his mouth, while his hand cupped the soft swell of the other. A low, breathy moan echoed from the back of your throat as you squirmed beneath him, and he couldn't suppress a groan. Your taste was better than he'd imagined.

His teeth scraped over the sensitive peak, and a whimper bubbled from the back of your throat. You arched your back, pushing your breasts further into his mouth and hands, and he released the nipple with a wet pop, lifting his head and giving you a stern look.

"No moving. I'll tie you down if I have to."

The thought of tying you up sent another rush of blood to his already throbbing dick, but now wasn't the time. He could tie you up and torture you later, when he'd had a chance to go to the store and pick out some pretty restraints and maybe a vibrator.

Instead, he returned his attention to the task at hand, his thumb stroking over your hardened nipple while his lips descended upon the other. You gasped, writhing beneath him, and he nipped the delicate flesh with his teeth, eliciting a squeak.

"Be a good girl," he murmured. "Stay still for me."

And then, without waiting for an answer, he returned his mouth to your tits, licking and sucking, biting and pinching until the peaks were red and swollen, and you were a shivering mess beneath him.

By the time he finally lifted his head, the crotch of his shorts was soaked, and he could feel your own slickness soaking through the thin material of your panties.

He slid a hand between your bodies, tracing the outline of your folds through the soaked fabric. You moaned, arching your hips, and he gave a sharp smack to your thigh.

"Don't move," he ordered.

He hooked a finger under the hem, tugging it to the side, and his cock twitched at the sight of your glistening pussy. His mouth watered at the prospect of tasting you, but his own arousal was quickly becoming a problem. His erection was straining painfully against the fly of his shorts, and he was dangerously close to coming just from the friction of the fabric rubbing against him.

He tugged your underwear the rest of the way off, and you shivered as the cool air of the room washed over your heated flesh.

"Cold, baby?" he murmured, and you nodded.

"We'll fix that soon enough," he promised.

He pulled his own shirt off and tossed it aside. He didn't bother to unfasten his shorts, just unzipped them and pushed them and his boxers down enough to release his cock.

His balls tightened as his shaft sprang free, bobbing heavily between his thighs. He wrapped his fist around his shaft, pumping it slowly. He didn't need much stimulation. Just seeing you sprawled out before him, naked and wet, was enough to get him there.

He shuffled a bit closer and rested his heavy cock on the soft skin of your abdomen, hissing as the head of his cock rubbed against the smooth plane of your stomach. He couldn’t believe how tiny you were. How his cock could cover your entire stomach. How the tip of it almost reached your sternum.

He groaned, pumping his cock a few more times before lifting it and sliding the length between the wet lips of your pussy. You gasped as his cock glided over your clit, and he repeated the motion, enjoying the way you moaned and writhed.

"Look at you, taking my cock so well," he breathed, watching as his shaft slipped and slid over your clit.

You whimpered, and he increased his pace, rocking his hips and fucking his length between the swollen lips of your pussy. "S’ too big…" you whimpered, the walls of your cunt contract around nothing.

He grunted, thrusting faster, feeling your slickness coat his cock, making it easier for him to slide between the folds of your pussy. You moaned, arching your hips and trying to rub yourself against him, but he didn't let you. Instead, he pulled his cock away, smacking the underside of his length against your clit.

"Fuck!" you gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders, gripping the solid muscle and squeezing as you tried to find purchase.

"Don't move," he repeated, swatting his cock against your clit a second time, and then a third, before pressing the tip against your entrance.

Your eyes widened, and you stared up at him with an expression that was half-terror and half-excitement. He smiled down at you, his fingers tangling in the hair at the base of your skull, pulling your head back so you were forced to meet his gaze.

"You're going to take my cock like a good girl," he told you, and you shuddered, a whine slipping past your parted lips.

"I- I don't know if I can," you whispered, your voice shaky and uncertain, and he chuckled.

"Oh, you will," he assured you. "I’ll fuck you with just the tip first, okay? We'll start there and work our way up."

Your brow furrowed, and he could tell you were trying to figure out exactly what he meant by that. But then he was pressing his cock into your tight hole, and all thoughts flew from your mind as his girth stretched you open, stretching you wider than you'd ever been stretched before.

He didn't push his length into you right away, just slid his fat tip in and out, working you open. It felt incredible. You were so tight, so wet, and the way your muscles clenched and pulsed around his shaft had his balls drawing up, ready to blow his load.

"Fuck, baby, you're gonna make me come," he grunted, pulling his cock free from your pussy and rubbing the head against your clit, enjoying the way you shivered and writhed, the way your juices dripped from your hole.

"Want to fill you up," he muttered, pushing his cock back into your cunt, watching the way his thick girth stretched you, disappearing inside of you, inch by inch. "Fill you with my cum and make you pregnant."

Your eyes widened, and you stared up at him with an expression that was part shock and part fear. He didn't care. You'd take his cum, and he'd fill you with it over and over until he was sure you were knocked up.

He slid his length the rest of the way inside of you, until his balls were pressed against the curve of your ass. Until he saw the imprint of his cock bulging through your abdomen. Until his entire shaft was buried deep inside your hot cunt, the head bumping against your cervix.

"Gonna fuck you with my whole cock," he told you, and you moaned, the walls of your pussy fluttering around his shaft. "Gonna make you come all over me."

You gasped, your hands moving to grip his biceps, your nails digging into his skin as he began to pump his length in and out of you, fucking you with his entire shaft. He fucked you fast and hard, his hips snapping, the head of his cock hammering against your cervix, and it didn't take long before your muscles were clenching around his girth, milking him as he pounded into you.

You cried out, your eyes screwing shut, your body trembling as your orgasm tore through you, and he knew he couldn't hold back anymore. With a groan, he thrust his cock deep inside your pussy and came, spurting thick ropes of cum inside your cunt, painting your inner walls with his potent seed. He didn’t stop flooding your womb with his virile cum until he saw the skin of your belly distend and your lower abdomen rounding slightly.

He pulled his cock out, his shaft glistening with his spend and your juices, and you winced, squirming beneath him as his cum trickled out of your cunt, leaking down your ass crack. He pressed his palm flat against the bulge in your belly, watching as the cum gushed out of your stuffed cunt.

"Fucked you so full," he said, rubbing the head of his cock against your swollen clit, making you shiver. "Gonna be dripping my cum for days."

You groaned, your eyes falling shut as he continued to tease your clit, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue darting out to trace the seam.

"I'm not finished with you yet, little one," he murmured, and you moaned. "I'm going to fill you with my seed over and over again until I'm sure you're pregnant. And then we’ll get married, won’t we?"

[tempconcooling]

Get Process Chiller For HDPE Blow Molding

In blow molding, HDPE products are developed by means of inflating or blowing a thermoplastic known as the parison shaped as a mold cavity. Extrusion blow molding is the most commonly used for HDPE. Water-cooled chillers are used to cool blow mold and give the desired shape without warping.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Candles and Cuddles | Azriel x Reader

Summary: You take Azriel to get a personal wax mold of your hands intertwined, and after overcoming insecurity, settle into each other’s warm embrace.

Word Count: ~ 1.3k

Warnings: Mentions of past injuries, scars, insecurities, fluff, nothing bad.

A/N: Really liked writing this, hope you enjoy it <3

Requests are open!

You had originally gotten the idea when you’d seen all sorts of cute pictures of couples getting wax molds and melts of them holding hands in a heart shape or fingers interlocked. It was, in your opinion, positively adorable, and so you decided to drag your mate along with you for this particular adventure.

“What, pray tell, are we looking for?”

Azriel’s deep voice, calm and gleaming with curiosity, spoke softly. His head was tilted slightly to the side as you walked excitedly down the bustling streets of Velaris, your soft hand holding his larger, scarred one and pulling him gently along.

The children played in the streets, vendors calling out their prices as some roamed the streets with baskets of fresh products or supplies to try or test, hopefully, to lure in some customers. It was a warm evening, a cool breeze blowing through that lifted the autumn leaves to stir around your feet, only to settle in piles before being further blown away, or gathered into piles as the children jumped into them.

“It’s a surprise, Az, you’ll know when we get there!”

You said, being drawn into the direction of one street corner by the warm light coming from the building, only to find exactly what you were looking for with a quiet sound of triumph.

A small smile graced Azriel’s face as he peered down at you curiously, studying your happy smile and the twinkle in your eyes, one that spoke of joy, and an innocence he would gladly protect with his life.

“You’re going to love this, it’s so cute.”

You said, eagerly entering the store hand in hand with him. He ducked to avoid the top of the doorframe, wings folding in tightly to not disrupt anything inside of the small business. His shadows curiously observed and watched, taking in information on the surroundings on instinct.

There was a small desk at the front with a woman who he assumed was running the main operation, and to the left of it in another open room were pots full of different colored melted max, with a few other people already dipping a dry white base into it to make their own custom candle. It looked..intriguing, he would admit. He was ashamed that he’d never come to see all these small thriving businesses in Velaris.

“Come on!”

You said, bursting at the seams with excitement as you paid the woman up front and eagerly pulled him along to the wax room. He’d been so caught up in thinking he’d missed your entire conversation with the other female. Oops.

He patiently followed along, until you were both standing in front of a blue wax pot, a deep, rich blue like the siphons he had. Blue was a nice color. Maybe even his favorite.

“See? We dip our hands in together, and it makes a wax outline we can keep.”

You explained, beaming up at him. He returned the smile, a warm one spreading across his lips as he intertwined his hand with yours.

“I understand, love.”

He replied, waiting for you to begin moving first before submerging both of their hands in the melted wax, letting it sit a bit before pulling it out and dipping it again, and that went on for a few more layers until both of your hands were covered in a thick layer of blue dried wax, about the consistency of a babybell cheese wrapper.

A worker came over and helped you both get the wax off of your hands, leaving the mold of your hands together before the worker spoke up. It was a male with short brown hair and ghoulish skin, and distinctly Fae eyes in a shade of chocolate brown. Maybe a mix between a ghoul and Fae? The shadows seemed to think so as well.

“We could use the wax mold to make a quick concrete markup?”

He offered, at which you eagerly nodded.

“I’d love that, how long would it take?”

You asked, at which the worker simply waved a hand.

“Not long, only like, five minutes. We got a new concrete mix, the stuff works like magic! I wouldn’t be surprised if there isn’t some sort of enchantment on it…”

The worker went on, before seeming to realize he was rambling and giving a little chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ll have it ready for you in five, just take a seat somewhere.”

He said, gesturing to some of the seats in the small business area, before walking off to the back room with you and Azriel’s wax mold in hand. You both went and sat down next to each other, and he tried to pull you on his lap. You gave him a look. He only smirked.

“What? Shouldn’t we save space for any other potential weary customers?”

He asked with a playful tone, still smirking, at which you laughed and shook your head in fond exasperation, finally sighing and sliding onto his lap.

A few minutes later, the worker returned, the wax mold gone, but with concrete of you and Azriel’s hands intertwined together. He smiled and gave it to you, and after paying a bit extra for the stone structure.

After walking back home, and a short flight, you triumphantly set the stone structure on your favorite bookshelf in a space with good visibility.

“Don’t you love it?”

You asked Azriel with a happy grin, leaning back into him. He nodded, but when you glanced back at him, you saw a hint of worry and hesitation in his gaze. You turned to face him, wondering what was wrong. Had you done something to upset him? Had the wax made his sensitive, scarred hands start aching?

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

You asked, one hand sliding up to his cheek to move his face so he was looking down at you. He hesitated before speaking. That was odd. He never hesitated much, if ever.

“You don’t think my hand looks a bit…out of place? With all the..scarring against your smooth skin?”

His now tentative and quiet voice asked, eyes studying the structure with a meticulous gaze, picking apart every minor detailing of his winding burn scars the wax mold had picked up, and the contrast of it against your smooth, soft skin. You pulled his gaze back to yours, taking his hands in yours.

“No. Not at all. Your hands are perfect just the way they are, and they look perfect in mine, and they belong there. If you ever start talking about them like that again, I’m revoking hand privileges for a week.”

He raised a brow because of the last statement but seemed a bit comforted by your statement, going to pull his hands away, but you wouldn’t let him, instead going to kiss every inch of his scarred hands until he was a blushing mess, his shadows looking more purple than usual as they crossed and danced around you in an embrace.

“Alright, love.”

He murmured, a small smile gracing his lips as he began gently pulling you towards the bed, a sign that he wanted to go to bed. You laughed softly, relenting as you pulled your bra off from under your loose shirt, tossing it onto the floor as you crawled into bed.

Azriel shimmied out of his leathers and crawled into bed wearing only his boxers, settling under the blankets before wrapping his arms and wings around you in a cocooning embrace, his head in the hollow of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent as he allowed himself to relax.

“Goodnight, Azzie, love you.”

You murmured, already sleepy. He smiled against your skin, shadows dancing before gently settling around you and him, before closing his eyes and replying.

“Goodnight, love.”

[catboyieejeno]

nct dream reaction ₊˚ପ⊹

➸ the dreamies as boyfriends.

alt title: the dreamies are boyfriend coded—that's all.

content: gn! reader, fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of food

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mark lee

mark is very easily flustered in general, so what is he supposed to do when the prettiest person ever is just simply existing in his presence? just remembering you're in the room and stealing a glance your way awakens the most teenage-boyish feelings within him, tips of his ears red and nerves bubbling as if he isn't already in a relationship with you

he's endeared by the most minute gestures and quirks of yours, the ones that go unnoticed by others. like your little huff when you're frustrated or the way you scrunch your nose when you're not satisfied or contemplating something

they way you randomly squeeze his hand when you guys are walking will drive him up the wall. this man will audibly gasp or squeak, clutch his chest, and squeeze his eyes shut to recover from the way his heart is suddenly and fiercely pounding in his chest

he's constantly geeking out over you, though he doesn't gush to the dreamies too often. they'd just make fun of him and tbh he doesn't wanna hear it, but on occasion he'll talk to jaehyun or johnny since they're close and more than willing to lend an ear

can only go so long without a kiss from you. i give him maximum two hours (sometimes sooner) before he's looking into your eyes in that way that tells you he's going to kiss you

his hands would come up to hold your face and his lips would mold into a soft, doughy smile before pressing into yours. it's delicate and lingering, and he breathes you in every time, hands only leaving your face to wrap tightly around you and hold you close to his chest

would do the typical 'wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb' when you're eating together or pick an eyelash from your cheek, holding it up and insisting you make a wish and blow it away so it comes true

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ huang renjun

we know renjun has no filter, but i don't see him being too frequently outspoken about his feelings with/towards you; he's slightly reserved in this regard because giving cheesy compliments feels slightly foreign and awkward and he doesn't thinks it's something he's good at

initially, that is.

that reservation lasts up until the moment the most unplanned, instinctual, and heartfelt "gosh, i could look at you forever," leaves his lips.

he didn't plan to make you flustered; in fact, he didn't even plan on saying it out loud. he was just obliviously voicing his thoughts, but once he saw the flush of red that spread across your cheeks, eyes dreamy and wide with surprise, renjun questions how he ever went a day without being the reason for this look on your face.

huang renjun pays so much attention to detail when it comes to you, whether it's about your favorite food/restaurant or your coffee order or the different scents/products you like. you'll literally never have to repeat yourself with him, he's always listening very closely and noticing all the small things about you that no one has ever picked up on

he's so gentle and considerate, an 'actions speak louder than words' kind of guy. constant acts of service, making sure you keep up with meals, helping with chores, naming and watering your plants, etc.

and, undoubtedly, he's definitely the best out of the dreamies at taking care of you when you're sick.

now... he will wear a mask and wont kiss you until you're 100% better

or at least until he's sure you're not contagious

but you can bet this boy is making you fresh tea and soup daily, checking your temperature every thirty minutes, rubbing menthol on your chest and running you a bath + sticking a towel in the dryer so it's warm when he wraps it around you and gets you ready for bed

will not leave your side until you make a complete recovery

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee jeno

his natural resting state is his face tucked into your neck or shoulder

before he's even opened his eyes on an early morning, his face is nuzzling into yours, lips nibbling at your neck, plush and wet and leaving the lightest of kisses on your warm skin. he's completely enveloped by your scent, lulled to sleep for a bit longer by the sounds of your even breaths

if you're standing in a queue or at a party, he'll rest his cheekbone onto your shoulder, both arms wrapping around your waist. occasionally he'll leave a kiss on the nearest accessible spot of exposed skin, but since he's the shyest member (according to the dreamies), he might not do much more in regards to PDA

hand holding is a must though, especially when it's cold and your linked hands are tucked into his jacket pocket. so cheesy but you gotta let it slide bc it's lee jeno

loves to help you pick your outfits/shop with you... loves it.

has absolutely all the patience in the world, and will watch you with stars in his eyes as you style yourself, nervously offering his opinion every so often

will ask you to get up from your seat so that he can take it and pull you onto his lap instead. 7/10 times he'll get hard but can you blame him...

speaking of laps, please let him nap on yours :( jeno will pout and beg for a chance to sleep on your thighs or tummy, insisting that the quality of his sleep is drastically improved when he's on you. also, it's implied that he wants you to massage his scalp and play with his hair... will be out within five minutes if you do

and if he were to stir awake and the lights in the room were too bright, he'd tiredly drag your hand over to rest on his cheek and shade his eyes so he can keep sleeping

would absolutely love if you showed an interest in any of his hobbies

for example, he'd be so giddy if you let him teach you how to play a video game, holding your hand over the mouse and keyboard and pressing your fingers down on the buttons as he mutters instructions into your shoulder

or if you wanted to ride bikes with him or go to the gym with him, he'd be so attentive and watchful over you, making sure you have a good time doing the things that he likes

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee donghyuck

the partner privilege is real with this one

like, he'll be actively feeding you a bite of his food and another member would ask to try it, and he would immediately complain (even though he eventually gives in anyway) just because ugh! it's not the same as letting you have some, you know?

and on the topic of food, when you try his, he will be feeding it to you. no, he will not let you do it yourself so don't even try it—lee donghyuck lives and breathes for the way you roll your eyes in feigned annoyance before accepting the spoonful he so meticulously prepared for you, cheeks stuffed because it was probably too much. he'd even coo at you, going on about how cute you look and asking how you like the taste

will feel betrayed if you watch an episode of a show you're meant to be watching together without him. and while he's on tour or stuck at the dorms, he will facetime you so you can watch it together

he's genuinely so enamored and obsessed with you, in a way that might not even be entirely normal or sane. loves laying on your chest so that he can hear your heart and yes, he will shamelessly ask you to scratch his back, humming contently after each drag of your nails on his skin

cannot seem to get enough affection, ever

also cannot seem to get close enough to you. if it was possible, he'd merge into you to be closer but since it isn't, he'll just have to settle for cuddle sessions where he's wrapped around you like a koala, leg swung across you and pinning you in place.

he's a little dependent when he's with you, so he has a bit of a hard time when he's on tour. hyuck needs to talk to you and hear your voice and he will do anything and everything necessary to make that happen, whether it's staying up ridiculously late, or getting up before the sun to match your schedule. when he's away, he misses you so, so bad that it literally and physically hurts

and he's so soft on these phone calls, constantly reminding you that he misses you and your voice and your touch

he'll endlessly tell you that he loves you, all teasing and jokes aside—he can go back to doing all that when he gets home. for now, he's rambling about all the things he did that day that you would have liked and promising that he will bring you there one day

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ na jaemin

the honeymoon phase never truly ends when you're dating na jaemin. he is the biggest flirt, and i do not say that lightly

compliments and teases you like it's second nature because it is. he's constantly trying to swoon you and is not at all shy about skin-ship, clinging to you when he feels like he needs a bit of extra loving.

i think people underestimate how romantic jaemin is because he tends to be a bit subtle about it, and contrary to popular belief, i think he'd only really pull that side of him out in private, only for you to see. he's not particularly against PDA, just prefers to soak you in when the two of you are alone and together

slow kisses that hide how eager and enamored he really is, fingertips softly grazing all the way up your arms until they disappear into the back of your hair. it's insane how every kiss feels like the first with him, just as exciting, giddy, and warm.

if he has to get up before you for practice or schedules, he'll leave a kiss on your forehead before literally tucking you in, promising to be "back home and in your arms before you know it!"

when i say na jaemin would do anything to make you happy... that is not at all an exaggeration

movie night? you can pick the film and snacks. a couple's trip or vacation? he'll have you make a list of everything you wanna do and follow it through to the very last detail. an argument or disagreement? you're always in the right. if he so much as senses it's escalating, he'll quickly apologize. whatever it is you're fighting about, it's not worth upsetting you over. genuinely has so much love for you, he doesn't ever want to see you unhappy.

learns the recipes to your favorite foods so that he can make them for you whenever you want/crave them

if you were comfortable with it, he'd shower with you every single day, it's literally his favorite thing

and it's not even sexual half the time bro :( i mean... unless you wanted it to be

it's his fingers slowly scrubbing the shampoo into your scalp, hands massaging your upper back and shoulders, applying your facial cleanser and drawing shapes into the foam on your cheeks and forehead...

will 100% hog the hot water, though

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ zhong chenle

uses humor to flirt with you

even when he's mad at you he's still cracking jokes lmfao

kind of mean when he's playing around, but he knows to never take it too far. he doesn't actually want to hurt your feelings, he only wants to convince you that he's not as infatuated with you as he actually is.... although sometimes he slips up lol

like, he'll be gawking at you with so much love in his eyes, then suddenly crack a joke or poke fun at you. it might be quite confusing for an outsider, especially since after he's done laughing at you, he'd lean in and peck your cheek as a wordless truce. you're used to it by now though, and it's honestly kinda sweet because you know by now that pestering is his own way of showing you that he loves you

will pretend to ignore you so that you're forced to ask him for attention because he likes feeling needed/wanted by you

chenle is the personification of the phrase 'dating your best friend'. there's no one who makes you laugh quite as hard as him, or who knows you as well as he does. and, even at times where he isn't the most directly affectionate, he's still following you from room to room as you go about your day, dramatically dragging his feet bc where are you going without him :(

if you praise him for any reason at all, you've immediately turned him into putty and rendered him incapacitated—his cold front has been breached, and no amount of shrugging or 'tsk'-ing from him can hide the grin on his face or the way his eyes have softened and molded into hearts

your approval means everything to him, and he'd never tell you, but he'd constantly worry if he was enough for you or if you deserved better

when he is in an affectionate mood, you can expect lazy kisses just about anywhere. he gets in these moods when he's sleepy, far too tired to keep up his cold act, choosing instead to nestle himself in your warmth and soak in everything that is you.

instead of playing with his ring to go to sleep, you find that he frequently falls asleep, quietly snoring, with the material of your shirt clutched in his hand

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ park jisung

is touch-starved and it shows!

but the idea of outwardly asking you for affection terrifies him, so every time you perform any kind of skin ship, he desperately tries to express how much he likes it by smiling at you or leaning into your touch in hopes that you catch on to the fact that he loves it and he loves you and he wants more

eventually, as he grows more comfortable in the relationship, daring to initiate some touching of his own... as soon as he reaches this point, you realize there's no stopping him

he'd pick up the cutest little habits like spontaneously kissing you mid sentence because he just can't help himself or wait until you're done speaking bc he just needs to kiss you now or he'll die

that, or he'd catch himself playing with your fingers as he listens to the sound of your voice or while the two are laying down and you're telling him about literally anything

his thumb will be brushing ever so gently over your wrist, knuckles, and fingers as he hums to ensure you that he's still listening, his deep voice making his chest rumble under your cheek

but his favorite habit he's developed by far would be having you curled up on his lap, and it's not even in a sexual way or whatever

genuinely, he's never felt more at home

jisung busies himself caressing your soft skin or playing with your hair as you both mindlessly talk about random topics

and all of a sudden he's hyperaware of the situation and his heart swells up with love + a brush creeps up on his cheeks because hahaha wdym you're sitting on his lap rn??!?!?!

and if you glance up at him, fully expect him to get more flushed and hide in your shoulder

constantly buys you your favorite snack but eats most of them before you get around to trying them :( but like you can't even be mad

overall very soft and baby and just about anything you do makes him fall in love with you again

⋆ ★

[dollsahoy]

OK, so...making this doll.

It kinda started last year, when I thought it would be funny to put an EAH torso onto the lower body of an off-brand doll with gymnast-style waist/hips/legs, and that looked like this

I quickly took this head off of this body and put the body into the body box--the legs were yellowing, the big flat feet are not always easy to find shoes for, and the head was way too heavy for this body anyway

I believe @musicalmeowsandcandiedlemons had sent the LaLaLoopsy head, and I know Mel sent the blue blow molded deer head, which I kept trying to figure out how to use, and what body would suit it most. I eventually came around to this body, but I still didn't like the feet.

Well. Flo, I believe, had sent a set of cut-off EAH lower legs, so I compared those to the body's legs, and the proportions looked compatible, so I decided to cut off these legs, above the knees, and graft on the EAH donors, using Aves Apoxie to hold them together

I ground that cut area down some with the Dremel

but it obviously needed some work to smooth, so it was time for acetone goo

and then more grinding and sanding

Honestly, I probably should have filled and sanded the area more, but, as I mentioned in the video, I'm more about "what if..." than "make a beautiful finished product", so that was fine

To attach the head, I put a long screw in the neck, anchored with more acetone goo, with airline tubing over the threads and teflon tape on the head to keep things able to move freely. I covered the airline tubing with more epoxy putty, let it cure, then did another layer that I extended up and over the top of the screw

Then I put a blob of epoxy putty on top of this spinny neck tower, and squished the head onto that.

Once that cured, I mixed more epoxy putty and filled in the gap at the bottom of the head

Then: airbrush time

Not perfect, but very much done.

[wroteclassicaly]

maybe I'm late to kink hour but cmon Gator has a spit kink

Oooh, he probably has so many kinks he’s never been able to try, tbh. But we’ll focus on this one for now ;)

Warnings: Spit, spit kink, & language. Kinda smutty, but no actual smut?

It starts off with normal banter and moves quicker than anticipated. You’ve been annoying Gator in the office all day, even following him outside to bitch. No one else got involved with helping him at home, not really. So you’d rode in the patrol car to his place, pissed and bitching about the cold and the snow (despite being used to it), and why he can’t get someone else who will tolerate him.

“People are busy, s’ why they aren’t around. You know that.”

“Probably one of the reasons, is because of that nasty fucking thing.” You sneer, criticizing with a gloved hand towards his gross flavored vape.

His accentuated jawline tightens, freckles bouncing with the movement of his skin as it stretches across the bone. A cloud of vapor expands into winter’s frost, polluting the air with an acidic fruit scent. You make a gagging noise, egging him on when you see how pissed he’s getting. You don’t realize, that in the midst of enjoying his unease, he loses his temper and reacts. With a quick movement of hair gel gleaming under the winter sun - his calculated movements catch when your mouth opens next to mimic him.

His lips part and he leans, spitting a wad directly into your mouth. You’re appalled at first, shocked, literally choking on - not your own saliva, but his. And it tastes exactly like the item he inhales one more hit off of, before blowing it into your face.

Are your eyes watering? Ears ringing? Blood rushing? Yes, but not because of sadness, anxiety, or anger. No, it’s a buried emotion of what you’ve gambled on since you’ve known him, and among the bodily exchange - a realization. You liked it. You feel claimed, rather than mocked.

“That taste good, babydoll? You’re lucky I wasn’t chewin’.” His boots crunch in the snow as he attempts to walk away, but you reach out and grab his leather clad arm, squeezing.

You aren’t sure what you attempted to accomplish? A half assed remark, a berating lashing? As Gator turns and receives your physical message, he raises a brow, bordering on amused, annoyed, and ready to fight. But what he sees isn’t what he’d expect in a million years. You don’t spit, you swallow - straight down, your pupils expanding rapidly, eyes darting towards his mouth, still wet with projectile.

He’s got power. All the power here in this moment, but more importantly — you accepted what he gave and then you imprinted on him, the mold of keys to open previously locked doors between the two of you. His fingers reach out and dig the class ring (similar to his own, that he keeps put away) from beneath your blouse, that’s visible through your partially zipped coat. He tugs you closer, his frame smelling of cologne, copious amounts of hair product, and that damn vape. It’s overwhelming and you can’t focus, not even to answer him.

“You really liked that, didn’t you?”

You avoid his gaze.

“Come on now, darlin’. You afraid to look at me again? Because I don’t know if you were there with me a minute ago, but you were eyein’ my mouth like it was a sugar coated carnival prize.”

Still nothing. He wants more. He needs more.

That crafted nose nuzzles its way behind your ear, hot air on your neck that travels straight to your nipples and curls your toes as they sit in your boots. His voice is a low whisper, a damned rasp.

“You know what else I could spit on?”

// Eat me paragraph //

[toastedcatbread]

No wonder Sephiroth is so possessive of Cloud. Dude fucking lost all of the people he loves and he probably thinks that Cloud, whom he shares his cells with, thinks of the little blonde as his 'loved one' in his own fucked up way that he can't afford to let go.

My poor boyo only wants friends, family and a normal life but he can't ☹️

A product of trauma is how most villains tend to start. Sephiroth really did want someone to rely on (not necessarily in the strength department, but more like a constant presence that won't leave him). Cloud just happens to fit that mold for him.

I also believe that, no matter how much Sephiroth fights Cloud, he won't kill him. Because he doesn't want to lose that constant presence in his life. So he'll toy with him and play with him, but he won't go for fatal blows. I think that was pretty obvious in AC, since Sephiroth literally just waits for Cloud to collect himself after he throws him down. You see it again in Remake's final battle, where Sephiroth uses gravitaga. He just points Masamune at Cloud, but doesn't go for fatal hits.

Cloud is his link to Gaia and Sephiroth definitely knows it.

On another note, I've been traveling. Look at the Jenova cup noodles!

[boinkingbattlemechs]

Mad Dog

The Mad Dog is a heavy Clan OmniMech used for long-range indirect fire support. With hunched shoulders, a protruding head, and reverse-jointed legs, the Mad Dog resembles a vulture, so much so that it was independently code-named Vulture and Hagetaka (or Hagetaga, "Vulture" in Japanese) by the Inner Sphere forces which first encountered it. The name also fit the perceived battlefield role of the Mad Dog; technical documents from the thirty-first century suggested the role of the Mad Dog was to act as a support 'Mech, and it was theorized to be intended to hold a hill and maintain constant watch over the entire battlefield, like a vulture waiting for its prey. The reality is that such behavior would be a violation of zellbrigen and that the Mad Dog's configurations are intended to take the fight to the enemy at all ranges.

With its ample firepower and decent speed of 86.4 km/h, it makes a highly mobile firing platform, and as such has spread to near ubiquity among the forces deployed by the Clans, although the design is favored more by Clan Ghost Bear MechWarriors. The Mad Dog carries eight and a half tons of ferro-fibrous armor for decent protection, although it will not be able to stand up to heavy fire.

The Mad Dog was designed by Clan Smoke Jaguar as a second generation OmniMech based on the original heavy OmniMech Lupus of Clan Coyote. The Mad Dog also used some of the same molds of the Clan Wolf Timber Wolf OmniMech. However, despite using some of the same molds (which might be viewed as high praise), the Mad Dog was named as a slur to the Lupus and Timber Wolf, and to Clans Wolf and Coyote. Because of its widespread production, most Clans maintain a large number of Mad Dogs in their toumans.

For its fire support purposes, the Mad Dog is armed with twin shoulder-mounted LRM-20 missile racks, which allow the 'Mech to inflict heavy damage on any opponent it may target. The Mad Dog is also more than capable of going on the offensive, mounting dual large and medium-sized pulse lasers, one of each on each arm. Mad Dog pilots have been known for showering missiles on opponents before swooping down with a finishing blow from the lasers, much like a vulture swooping down for carrion.

In the case that the Mad Dog must retreat or face down heavier opponents, it can adequately do such as well, as the pulse lasers it mounts are much more accurate than standard lasers, allowing it to move and fire at the same time. This allows it to stall opponents and slowly back into a more defensible position, although overheating may become an issue.

(sorry for the late poll! The queue just straight up ate the original version! No fucking idea why...)

[genustoys]

Another strange TMNT off brand product, made with the most brittle body plastic known to man. If the limbs looking familiar, take a look at "SUPER POWERS" extrusion blow mold figures.

[satanicsanity]

Hello hello!!!!! If it's okay, could you tell us fun facts about your sona? They're very interesting!!!!

Funfacts about Satanic, My Welcome-home persona! (Keep in mind this is a fanmade character so, no cannon stuff related to the actual WH story!)

They are trapped in the remains of their burned-down old home that was originally in the neighborhood with everyone elses houses

They were a character originally produced in a pilot & beginning of the welcome home show

Everything they touch turns to black & white, since they are unable to leave the space they're in which is quite literally frozen in time

They've always had a crush on wally since meeting him, and get unbelievably excited whenever he visits them

They were best friends with many other characters, who were also cast out like they were, in the final production of the show

Their voice sounds funny because their voice-box is broken

They have an old broken TV that they use to monitor the outside world from time to time, so they almost always have eyes on what's going on, but sometimes the TV turns off or fuzzes out for long periods of time

None of the neighbors remember Satanic, But Satanic has met all of them in the past. Their memories of Satanic disappeared when Satanic was cast out & trapped

They love to water color paint and make Balloon animals

When they blow kisses, they can produce a fog of pink smoke in the shape of a heart

Their favorite foods are salty & sweet snacks and desserts

In the past, they would accidentally freak out Frank by standing over them, trying to get their attention

The unique feature of them that used to mold their character, was related to their voice, and the range & other voices they could do with their vocals

They loved all of Sally's plays, attended every single one, and even asked to audition for a couple

They frequently wear a black lipgloss

Since I've been asked this before, they smell like lilacs and Lavander

When they're feeling extreme high emotions, their heart-clips snap in half

Their hair fuzzes and poofs out like cat's fur when they're angry

Let me know if you guys want to hear more! <3

[pawbeanies]

Baby boy. Pretty puppy. Wanna hold your face, kiss you real gentle, run my hand down your back and catch at your waist, settlin’ there like we were two figures made outta clay, made to fit together, molded from each other’s model, but put into the kiln separately, so we wouldn’t blow up.

I could make you anything you wanted. I work with clay, I work with metal, I work with leather… I could make you a pretty little collar, you just say the word. I could be yours, if you’d let me. You’re sweeter than fresh squeezed peach juice and I’m sure you’d last longer on my tongue.

I can be sweet, if that’s what you want. I can be a real gentleman, buying you drinks, opening up doors for you, walking you to wherever you wanna go, I can be soft, I can be warm. I can be like a sunset, I can see the moon in your eyes, looking at me, knowing I’m only there to lead up to your night.

We can kiss under the stars, my jacket on your shoulders, my hand on your thigh. You’re such a nice boy, I know I’d feel bad for kissing you like that, but not too bad, not when you’re begging me for it.

I’m getting sappy. It’s getting late. I wanna make you a ring that fits exactly on your finger, and I want you to know I made it only because I thought you might like it. I want my callouses to match the ring, the effort just as beautiful as the product. I know any effort can be beautiful, with you.

- 🍑

awa ..?!?! aawawawawawa?!?!?! awawawawawAAA?!?!?

please imagine like. me. comically and over exaggeratedly turning around like youre talking to someone behind me. turning back to look at you n pointing at myself. ME ? ME?! did you send this to the wrong blog peach anon are you sure. are y. you. wh. awawa.?!?!

this is too sweet and ?!?! romantic?!?! it can't be for me ... huh ... covering my face with my sleeves kicking my feet a little you are VERY good with your words and very. augh. wouagh. um?!? mhm mhm?!! crumbling into dust as i type i. w. awawa. i cant even think of words and sentences that make sense this is very ... aaa... wah.... so nice and gentle and .?!?! i..?!?!

i keep reading this one i feel like dizzy. im ?? wah??? hiding my face blushing whining sliding down in my chair. please ? please ? ive been taken out in one fell swoop.....

[piglet26]

Kylo Ren's Hair

Every once in a while I think of this scene

same girl. same

Every once in awhile I think of this title.

Why Is Kylo Ren's Hair So Shiny And Voluminous?

I was able to do some research thanks to Men's Health as to what Adam Driver's hair recipe is/was and this is what I discovered.

For this iconic look

R+Co Rockaway Salt Spray, Adds Volume and Hair Texture on damp hair and a little bit of medium shine pomade like Layrite Original Pomade to create texture and shine and smooth the front part back and away from your face before air drying.

TROS look

The signature cut is pretty much the same, but to get a similar look, go for high shine products like Axe Smooth Look Shine Pomade or Baxter of California Thickening Gel to deliver a slightly wet sheen.

Other general hair care advice

Start by applying a combination of American Crew Boost Powder and Fiber Grooming Foam to damp hair to create volume and texture. Then, while blow drying, scrunch and twist your hair with your hands instead of a brush to enhance any natural wave you have. Finally, finish it off with a bit American Crew Molding Clay (which has hold but only a moderate amount of shine). Optional: a spritz of Alternator Finishing Spray if you want to keep it in place.

[a2zskills123]

PREPRATION OF A BUEATY SOAP || A2Z SKILLS Manufacturing encompasses a diverse array of processes and technologies aimed at producing a wide range of products, from everyday essentials to specialized components. Take wires, for instance: these are typically manufactured through drawing processes, where metal rods or strips are pulled through dies to reduce their diameter and achieve the desired thickness. This method ensures uniformity and strength, crucial for applications in electronics, construction, and industrial settings. On the other hand, the production of bottles involves molding techniques such as blow molding or injection molding. Blow molding heats plastic resin into a molten state and then inflates it into a mold cavity to create a hollow shape, used extensively for beverage containers and packaging. Injection molding, meanwhile, injects molten plastic into a mold under high pressure, ideal for producing intricate shapes with precision, like medical vials or automotive parts. Both wire and bottle manufacturing rely heavily on materials science, engineering precision, and quality control measures to meet stringent specifications. Advances in automation, robotics, and sustainability practices are transforming these industries, reducing waste, improving efficiency, and expanding design possibilities. Overall, manufacturing processes like these exemplify the intersection of innovation, engineering, and practical application in meeting global OUR LINKS:

TIKTOK: https://www.tiktok.com/@a2zskills YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/@A2ZSKILLS-123 FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61562585190878&sk=about INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/a2zskills123/ VIMEO: https://vimeo.com/?signup=true TUMBIR: https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard HASAHTAGS : #satisfying #manufacturing #molding #shorts #A2Zskills #thermacolplates #thermacol #clay #tips #tipsandtricks #tutorials #prank #youtubeshorts #youtube #manufacture #manufacturer #ytshorts #material #materials #science #sciencefacts #technology #equipments #wires #work #design #efficiency #hacks #reducingwaste #electronic #automobiles

[blowflyfag]

WORLD WRESTLING FEDERATION MAGAZINE : DECEMBER 1999

1999 The Year of Chyna

By Kevin Kelly

Chyna has achieved what no woman was ever expected to in the World Wrestling Federation and it’s not necessarily just because of her athletic skills. Not underestimating a physique reminiscent of a leather-clad sculpture–perhaps it is because the Ninth Wonder of the World refused to listen when others said, “No.”

Chyna knew she could compete against the men, but the purists needed to be enlightened. Beginning with the Royal Rumble, 1999 has been a series of ground-breaking triumphs countered only by miniscule setbacks.

While the role of women in society continues to evolve, albeit rather slowly, the former bodyguard has seized the means of production and created her own revolution. How did this once stoic, solitary revolutionary become the tombstone by which all women in the next century will be measured and compared? It all began with a painful childhood. 

In an interview in the October 1998 issue of the World Wrestling Federation Magazine Chyna described her early family life as “dysfunctional.” After leaving home at the age of 15 the future athlete excelled in high school, regularly making the Dean’s list, and later graduated from the University of Tampa (Florida) with a double major in Spanish and Literature in just two and a half years. Prospective employers like the United Nations and the U.S. Secret Service would have to wait, however.

During her college years, Chyna had discovered a talent for weight training. Combined with a lifelong desire to perform the groundwork was set, almost as though destiny had a hand in molding the sculpture that is the Ninth Wonder of the World. 

Questioned many times about the prospect of competing against other women in the ring, Chyna has consistently stated that it would not be challenging enough. Trained by Killer Kowalski in a class of all-male wrestlers, even the World Wrestling Federation Hall of Famer knew that the skills of his prized pupil were far from common. Even before entering the Federation in 1997, Chyna was aware that to make an impact she would have to compete against the men. 

First as bodyguard for Triple H and then the unifying glue of DX, Chyna preyed upon the weaknesses of men. Her notorious low blow proved that any man of any size could be felled like a tranquilized elephant with one upward thrust of her powerful arm. If retribution was due for the sins she had committed, Chyna knew that generally men would not want to strike out at her because of the childhood rule: Don’t hit girls. To this day, many of her victims blindly look at gender and wind up temporarily paralyzed because they are not “allowed” to hit a woman. 

At the 1999 Royal Rumble, Chyna made history as the first woman ever to compete for the privilege. Having thwarted the other D-Generates, Vince McMahon stood triumphantly while Chyna made her way to the ring as the final DX member in the Rumble qualifier. No one expected her and that element of surprise has been a persistent weapon against Chyna’s opponents. 

In time, however, that element of surprise began to dissipate. Chyna needed to show that she was more than just a Mexican uppercut. She did that in her attempt to win King of the Ring. With Triple H at ringside providing guidance, Chyna proved to the world–and more important, to herself–that she could do it. 

As the old saying goes, “Good talent can make anyone look good in the ring.” The Ninth Wonder was in there with the best of the best, and despite not coming away with the victory in the perennial June tournament, Chyna put herself on the roster as a competitor. She was credible, believable. It appeared to be more like rediscovering the talent she had been born with than something she had learned. Chyna had evolved once again and the sculpture was almost complete. 

“SummerSlam was supposed to be my time!” Triple H bellowed at Chyna after the Ninth Wonder of the World became the number one contender. Chyna would not wilt under the intense heat of the spotlight. No one doubled her spot now because she had earned all our respect. 

In that same ‘98 interview, the Ninth Wonder said, “There is a lot of mystery to Chyna and she hasn’t been unleashed yet. We can do so much with my character…”

The stories that can be told about the Ninth Wonder of the World are as limitless as the imagination. Her “character,” as in integrity, is unparalleled. Chyna and Triple H are the quintessential professionals. That being said, will Chyna remain a part of Triple H’s career? There have been rumors that their partnership may be nearing an end. 

When Triple H became the Federation Champion the night following SummerSlam, it wasn’t without assistance. Chyna has been a steadfast, reliable accomplice for Triple H for nearly three years. Critics of Triple H argue that the network of assistants has hindered his credibility. Would Chyna remove herself from that role in Triple H’s life in response to the critics? 

Whatever future career decisions Chyna makes will not be in response to outside detractors. Throughout her life, Chyna has fought when most would have packed up and moved on. With minimal parental guidance as a young woman, Chyna completed high school and graduated from college with honors.

After stumbling onto weight training and a desire to compete in the fitness field, Chyna heard the naysayers and went on to make history on a televised event. Although the wrestling business wanted no part of her, the Ninth Wonder refused to be ignored and simply kicked the door in. Now, Chyna is approaching legendary status in the renaissance of sports-entertainment and the World Wrestling Federation–a history maker, a trendsetter, a one of a kind. 

This has been the year of Chyna. Her improvement and development will continue into the next century as well. One thing is certain–Chyna will constantly stay one step ahead and keep everybody guessing what is next for the Ninth Wonder of the World.