#vertical turning machines

[widmakenametal]

The Evolution Of Precision Machining: Exploring Advanced Turning And Milling Solutions

In the world of modern manufacturing, precision and efficiency are paramount. Industries such as automotive, aerospace and heavy engineering demand high-performance machinery that delivers accurate and consistent results. As a result, machining technologies have significantly evolved, giving rise to sophisticated solutions like Vertical Turning Lathe, 5-Axis Turnmill and Special-Purpose Machines. These innovations have revolutionized production capabilities, enhancing productivity and reducing turnaround times.

The Role Of Vertical Turning Lathe In Modern Manufacturing

A Vertical Turning Lathe (VTL) is an essential tool for machining large, heavy workpieces that cannot be efficiently handled on horizontal lathes. Unlike traditional lathes, a VTL positions the workpiece vertically, allowing gravity to aid in stability and precision. This configuration is ideal for processing large-diameter components used in industries like energy, construction and railways.

One of the primary advantages of using a VTL is its ability to handle complex operations in a single setup. By incorporating advanced automation and CNC technology, manufacturers can achieve high levels of accuracy and repeatability, ultimately improving overall efficiency.

5-Axis Turnmill: Combining Turning And Milling For Maximum Efficiency

A 5-Axis Turnmill machine is a game-changer in precision machining. By integrating turning and milling operations into a single setup, it minimizes material handling and significantly reduces production time. Traditional machining often requires multiple machines and setups, leading to inefficiencies and alignment issues. However, with a 5-axis turnmill, manufacturers can complete intricate operations in one go, ensuring superior accuracy and consistency.

This technology is particularly beneficial for industries requiring complex geometries, such as aerospace and medical device manufacturing. The ability to maneuver the tool from multiple angles enables precise machining of intricate components with minimal errors, making it an invaluable asset in modern production lines.

Special-Purpose Machines: Tailored Solutions For Unique Manufacturing Needs

Not all machining requirements fit within standard machine configurations. This is where Special-Purpose Machines (SPMs) come into play. These machines are specifically designed to perform dedicated operations efficiently, often customized for specific production tasks.

(SPMs) come into play. These machines are specifically designed to perform dedicated operations efficiently, often customized for specific production tasks.

SPMs are widely used in mass-production environments where repetitive precision machining is required. They offer superior efficiency compared to general-purpose machines, as they eliminate unnecessary movements and optimize processing time. Industries like automotive and defence rely heavily on SPMs for manufacturing precision-engineered parts in high volumes.

Conclusion: WIDMA Leading The Way In Advanced Machining Solutions

When it comes to advanced machining technologies, WIDMA stands out as a leader in innovation and precision. With decades of expertise in designing cutting-edge machining solutions, WIDMA offers state-of-the-art Vertical Turning Lathe, 5-Axis Turnmill and Special-Purpose Machines tailored to meet the evolving demands of modern industries.

By focusing on automation, precision and reliability, WIDMA ensures that manufacturers achieve optimal efficiency while maintaining exceptional quality standards. Whether it’s high-speed drilling, multi-axis milling, or specialized machining solutions, WIDMA continues to push the boundaries of technology, enabling businesses to stay ahead in a competitive market.

With its unwavering commitment to excellence, WIDMA remains a trusted partner for industries seeking advanced machining solutions that drive efficiency, accuracy and innovation.

[cosmos-impex-india-pvt-ltd]

YCL Series Vertical Turning Centers - High-Precision Machining Solutions

The YCL Series Vertical Turning Centers by Cosmos Impex India Pvt. Ltd. deliver unmatched precision and efficiency for industries with demanding machining needs. Designed for tight tolerances, these machines are ideal for manufacturing valve bodies, motor bodies, pump housings, wheels, flywheels, gear blanks, brake drums, castings, and impellers. With advanced technology and robust performance, the YCL Series enhances productivity and ensures high-quality results. Tailored for industries requiring stringent accuracy, it is a trusted solution for complex component manufacturing. Experience reliability, precision, and efficiency with Cosmos Impex's YCL Series.

[ynrenggcluster]

CNC Turn Mill Machine Services at Yamunanagar Engineering Cluster

Revolutionize your machining processes with the Yamunanagar Engineering Cluster CNC Turn Mill Machine. Designed for maximum efficiency and versatility, this innovative machine streamlines turning and milling operations, enabling you to tackle complex tasks with ease. Engineered with state-of-the-art features and industry-leading performance, our CNC Turn Mill Machine empowers you to optimize production workflows and achieve superior precision in every project. From rapid prototyping to high-volume production, trust Yamunanagar Engineering Cluster to deliver unmatched reliability and performance with our CNC Turn Mill Machine. Redefine efficiency and unleash your machining potential with Yamunanagar Engineering Cluster.

[vyva-melinkolya]

we all agree that the push towards short form, vertical video (tiktok/reels/shorts) is ruining fucking everything right? Tiktok has been useful for the dissemination of political information (e.g Gaza) i’ll give it that, but that feels moreso a result of meta and twitters algorithms being just a little *more*’evil and censor happy. And i want to make it very clear that my hatred for tiktok has nothing to do with the fact that it was a product of a Chinese company, because i see a lot of critiques relying on some sort of sinophobic conspiracy. On the contrary, it’s what tiktok has become in the vacuum of western popular culture and marketing that makes me fearful.

I know that every generation faces a new, polarizing technology and inevitably, there are those among said generation who will critique it. That is the nature of things. However, there is also something to be said about how, with the acceleration of technology (running parallel to the acceleration of capitalism, acceleration towards collapse etc), each coming generation faces an increasingly more malevolent “advancement”. TLDR, i’m going to talk my shit.

I’m going to speak on the aspect that is most relavent to me, as a musician. I am petrified by what short form video is doing to music and to musicians. I think that tiktok provides the illusion of making music and being a musician more “accessible” while actually pouring gasoline on the fire that the pop music machine had already started. Standards for what popular culture “expects” from music are being doubled and tripled. Let’s talk about song length. Success and marketability favoring shorter songs is not something new, it has been the trend for decades. But with short form video, it goes even further. You’re not just hearing the same song over and over on the radio, you’re hearing the same 15-30 seconds of the same song over and over again. This in-turn, starts to influence the way people write music, persuading people to make songs that *could* have that 15 second appeal. There is an art to pop music, there is an art to writing a catchy hook—this is something else. We weren’t meant to hear or understand music like that. There are so many songs from reels that i found annoying, until i heard them in their full context. It’s insidious. It makes everything feel like a fucking commercial, even if nothing is being advertised.

I’m going to pull directly from someone else’s experiences, someone who’s music seems to be everywhere on short form videos. The ambient musician My Head Is Empty has a hundred million streams on the song “i was only temporary”. Despite that exposure, they experience “never ending copywrite issues” and have “received death threats” by people who refuse to credit them when using their song. Pulling a quote here, from a comment on their own post

“vyva_melinkolya unfortunately it just gets worse. i saw a bot content page that steals pod cast footage and spams dozens of videos with my song stolen, comment on a "motivation" spam content , who actually made a post telling people the name of my song, and the previous page i mentioned, the pod cast spam commented on that video saying "Bro stop don't give out the sauce. this audio helps me pull numbers brooo" - so people are actively INTENTIONALLY stealing it and telling people to not credit me. like. u can't make this stuff up”

Beyond this, My Head Is Empty feels frustrated that despite all this exposure, the rest of their work (nine albums) as a musician remains under appreciated, and i think that frustration is 100% valid. People cannot fully appreciate music, or even understand it as a work of art created by another human, when it’s taken so far out of its context. Again, the soul being sucked out of art by “the machine” isn’t anything new but, this is a whole other level. Being a musician is more expensive than ever, streaming earns you fractions of a cent etc, it all feeds into itself.

When a song or a musician i love deeply finds its way on to tiktok (let’s use Duster’s “Stars Will Fall”, one of my favorite songs ever as an example)I am not upset that i cant “gatekeep” it anymore. I’m not upset by the idea of something I love and hold dearly finding a larger audience. I AM upset in the manner in which it is being disseminated. I’m upset with art I hold dear to me being chopped up and used as “trending audio”. When I saw Duster in concert recently, lStars Will Fall” was the song I was most looking forward to hearing. It was the last song they played, and it was the song seemly everyone chose to talk loudly over. The audience was mostly people my age and younger. This complaint might come off as petty or pretentious or cliche, i frankly do not give a shit.

Let’s talk about how musicians are expected to promote music on tiktok/reels. This is a matter of opinion, at the risk of sounding very pretentious: the “POV we are x band from x” “My label says i need x followers before x” “posting this video until c musician notices me”. I understand that some of it is in jest but, what the fuck? When did this become the norm? I do not blame anyone for promoting their music like this, but we should want more for ourselves. I’ve always said being a musician is deeply embarassing, inherently. If being a musician is inherently embarassing then what is this? I dont have a solution for this, and the music industry has always been ugly and bloodthirsty and seldom fruitful— but i feel like the very small amount of dignity we had as artists is now lost and I cant fucking stand it. Artists seem to promote the same single with dozens of reels over the course of months, hoping that something sticks. I dont want to sound like i’m shaming or, again, sound like i can provide a solution. I’m just very fucking sorry that it seems like this is “the way”. And personally, i’m scared that if i dont “get with the program”, im going to fail.

Again, all of this speaks to larger trends in entertainment industry and even larger trends in capitalism. But i’m just airing specifics right now because frankly? I cant take it anymore.

[clove-pinks]

Redingote c. 1815-1825 in piqué de coton (Paris Musées).

Description and machine translation:

Redingote longue et croisée en piqué de coton blanc, col droit rabattu, 2 poches à revers boutonnés derrière et une poche intérieure gauche, fermé par 12 boutons, 2 petits boutons aux manches.

Long, double-breasted frock coat in white cotton piqué, straight turn-down collar, 2 buttoned cuffed pockets behind and one left inside pocket, closed with 12 buttons, 2 small buttons on the sleeves.

The Dictionary of Fashion History by Valerie Cumming describes piqué as a textile from the 19th century and later, "Usually a cotton fabric, woven with a raised rib, often in a diamond pattern, also in straight horizontal or vertical ribs."

[rheya28]

Sol School of Fashion ♥ The Sims 4: Build // CC

Sol School of Fashion "SOF" is a well known fashion studio/school located in Del Sol Valley. SOF is a space that encourages boldness, creativity, and innovation. Sims can have access to a café, photo studios, a classroom, a meeting room, a lounge, as well as a customizable runway with a backstage dressing room that consist of all the fashion necessities needed to produce a professional fashion show event.

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Rheya's Notes:

♥ Hi guys, today I present to you SOL School of Fashion "SOF". This build/project is extremely special as I collaborated with the lovely and talented @farfallasims who kindly curated all the looks for the 2023 SOF Fashion Show Event Looks Curated by: @farfallasims [ Look Book Link ] 25:23

➽ Important Notes:

● Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ Lot Details

Lot Name: Sol School of Fashion Lot type: Generic lot type or Cafe Lot size: 40x30 Location: Starlight Boulevard, Del Sol Valley

➽ Mods:

TOOL MOD by TwistedMexi

♥ CC LIST:

Awingedllama : Boho Living, nostalgia living

Greenllama: The woodwind collection

Novvas: Holz Kitchen

Qicc: Sleep Hallway, Urban Bedroom

S-imagination: Nota

Sooky: Abstract framed posters -wooden frame

Sooky: Bon ton n1 ceiling lamp - Tall

Syboubou: Daguerre Reica Camera, Ballet mirror , fency

The Clutter Cat: Dandy Diary, Mellow moods

Aira : Artist in me

Anye: Zara Bathroom

ATS4: pot 4, pot 13, plant 16 Crafting room: dressform blouse, dressform male, dressform suit, folded fabrics, jar, paperstack, patterns, sewing machine

Harrie: Bafroom, brownstone, kichen

House of Harlix: Baysic, harluxe, brutalist, coastal, kwatei, octave, shop the look 2, spoons, Jardane, Livin Rum, Orjanic, tiny twavellers

Felix Andre: Berlin, Chateau, fayun, colonial, grove, kyoto, paris, shop the look

Brainstrip: my corner cc pack desk only

Charlypancakes: Munch, the lighthouse collection, miscellanea, modish, smol

Leori: Hipster loft

Illogical Sims: Home office

Kaiso: rustico living

Kate Emerald: Blissful baby Ottoman

Kiwisims4: Blockhouse hallway, Blockhouse Dining

Leaf Motif: Devon kitchen

Little Dica: Country side Cabin, Rise & Grind, sleek slumber

Madame Ria: Back to basics paint wall, Limber lumber

Madlen: Hiru misc set

Rusticsims: Mayaken, Modular life

Myls: Simple Clothes rack nordic

Mxims: LG

Myshunosun: Sol kitchen, Arrie Office, Gale dining, Lottie, Macaron kitchen, herbalist kitchen, tranquil bedroom

Peacemaker: Alesund, Hudson, Kitayama, Terra tiles horizontal/vertical, Vera Office

Pierisim: Coldbrew, David Apartment, Domain Du clos, MCM, Oak house, Tilable, unfold, Winter Garden

max20/maxsus: Poolside lounge pack

Sforzinda: Func EP02 Espressogrindomatic, espressoimpresso, cabin slats

sims4luxury: Mcgee&co Callhan rug

Sixam: Artz Living room, small spaces work from home, hotel bedroom, kessler kitchen, stylist wood livingroom, teen room

TaurusDesign: Eliza Bedroom, Elsa kids room

mycupofcc: Modernist

Tuds: 2ndWave, beam, cave, cross, wave

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

[forgingtheblade]

DID YOU KNOW THAT MINECRAFT HAS LOOMS???, aka, THE WEAVING WRITEUP

part two: get that bad boy ON THE LOOM

part 1 part 3

weaving is, at its core, a series of incredibly tedious yet incredibly meditative tasks.

i don’t think i can make this post be a fully comprehensive how-to of those tasks, especially considering it’s been almost a year since i wove on a floor loom, but i will try my best :’)

the first part is tying the yarns on. when taking the warp threads off of the warping board (which i talked about in the last post!) i tie them into bundles of a specific amount of threads, evenly distributed across the full amount. each of those gets tied on individually to the back of the loom, which i forget the name of. these are spread out basically across 2 inches of finished width per bundle, or in my case 24 strings per. ish. since I was working with 200 warp threads.

After tying those on, they get cranked on to the back of the loom and pulled across the back to the front though the harnesses under tension, where it’s now time to thread the loom!

This style of loom works by lifting different combinations of threads by lifting each harness with a pedal. Raising different combinations of threads will create different designs, changing where the horizontal thread or weft is going over and under.

My plan was to create two banners on the same warp, and in order to not have to entirely rethread the loom after the first one, I threaded it in such a way that different patterns were possible. This was, perhaps predictably, tedious. I don’t really know exactly how to explain weaving drafts, but this is the one I was using to thread the loom. The horizontal row at the top corresponds to which of the four harnesses each thread goes through, while the vertical column on the right shows which combinations of pedals need to be pressed at what time to actually create this pattern.

(Weaving draft via Liz on Handweaving.net in 2004)

due to the nature of this draft, it’s also possible to use this threading to create a plain weave—a simple one thread up, one thread down pattern that’s probably your first thought when it comes to weaving. I wanted to create one banner in plain weave and one in the pattern weave above.

Threading was very tedious, but ultimately as long as I was paying attention and keeping meticulous track of where in the 46 thread wide loop I had left off when I had to leave, it wasn’t that bad.

After threading, the threads are individually pulled though the slots or dents on a reed, which serves as both the beater to knock threads into place and as a means to keep them perfectly spaced out while actually weaving.

Then, the threads are tied to another bar at the front of the loom, and you’re ready to weave!

Here’s the two different weave patterns I used for this project!

Each of these I created the V shape at the bottom by just progressively leaving more and more threads out of the weave as I worked my way back and forth. After taking them off the loom, the top and bottom were turned and hemmed on a sewing machine. i tied some of the excess threads on each banner into tassels!

My next post will be sharing some about the embroidery process to create the emblem itself, and my future plans for the pattern woven banner that still doesn’t have any embroidery on it.

[aventoru]

photobooth

“look satoru! a photo booth!” you say as you drag your boyfriend towards the booth in the street.

you two are leisurely walking when you spotted a photo booth nearby. what better way to spend time with your cute boyfriend? you’ve always wanted both of you to take pretty pics, and now you’ve finally gotten the chance.

“are you that desperate to take pics with me? i mean, i know i’m hot but—" you smack gojo on his arm, which he dismisses with a laugh. “shush and go choose your accessories,” you scan the array of accessories displayed.

gojo begins skimming through as well, trying on various headbands, glasses, and even costumes. eventually, you two settle for a simpler yet cute style, sporting matching bunny headbands.

you enter the room, the pink background highlighting both your features. (should you be thankful it’s not grey, washing out gojo’s hair?) you both stand facing the machine, choosing the photo booth settings. you look through the frames and styles, opting for a simple vertical black frame with 4 pictures.

“right satoru,” you say as you insert the corresponding bills into the machine, “what poses should we do?”

“hmm,” he ponders, scrolling through pinterest for inspiration. after a few more seconds, he looks up, turning his phone screen for you to see. “something like this maybe?”

“yeah, i also found some more poses on pinterest,” you show him your findings as well.

you both nod, agreeing on the poses for the 8 pictures you were allowed to take. but your gut feeling tells you that gojo is spontaneous (and crazy) anyway, so there’s no point in planning beforehand. and unsurprisingly, you’re right.

the result is nowhere near what it looks like on pinterest.

the first one was…decent. you two choose the most basic pose: a peace sign. it’s simple enough, but with satoru, you never know. the next five pictures are cute as well. with you both executing a variety of cute couple poses, from making joined hearts to posing as spies.

for the seventh one, he decides to hug you from behind and put his chin on the top of your head (ugh tall people). he knows this level of intimacy is unplanned. but he’s sure you’ve gotten used to it by now considering how he’s all over you every time you both get the tiniest bit of privacy. and sure, you do return his affections, but it’s obvious who’s the more touchy one between you. and unsurprisingly, this time you stayed still as well, not moving even an inch from your spot. what he doesn’t know was that you have a surprise planned for him in the last frame.

you two are posing, your faces right next to each other, cheeks touching and eyes smiling. just at the last moment, you grab his face, turn, and kiss him on the cheek. looking at his reflection on the screen, you can see his eyes widen for a split second. yet his surprise quickly morphs into satisfaction as he closes his eyes and smiles contently, leaning into your touch. the camera successfully captures the sweet surprise you gave him.

two minutes later, you two exit the photo booth, printed pictures all sleeved up in your hands. “so, are you finally returning my affections?” he tries to act nonchalant. but you can see the obvious skip in his step. “no, i just did it for the cute couple aesthetic,” you shrug, trying to play it cool. “yeah sure, i believe you,” he dismisses your excuse with a smirk.

“no, you don’t understand,” you grab his collar and pull him down to eye level, “i would do anything for a good pic. so don’t get the wrong idea.”

gojo contemplates whether or not he should point out your reddened cheeks to contradict your statement. but he decides to keep quiet for now, there will be other times to embarrass you anyway.

[noneorother]

The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 1

part 1 l part 2

This is going to have to be a multi-part series because there are *checks notes* 64 different covers that I've found so far.

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... 1. The original UK cover

Ahh, the standard by which all shall be judged. We're starting off with a nice & easy cover, with adorable woodcuts of Aziraphale and Crowley flanking a custom Good Omens font! While I have to take a few points off for the terrible kerning of the word "GoOD", the blockprint vibes and general bitchiness of Aziraphale's teeny weeny wittle face, along with the sick colour palette puts the orignial in my good graces. Tier: Great

2. The duelling US covers

Progress! Hail to the designer who figured out trying to make "GoOD" and "OMeNs" fit the same width was a fool's errand, and even managed to IMPROVE on the original handmade title by adding a little halo and devil's tale to the design. Aziraphale and Crowley are facing each other, while also managing to serve absolute cunt. Aziraphale is wearing EIGHTIES SNEAKERS. Crowley's little snake boots have HEELS. They've managed to keep the woodcut vibes and colour simplicity, while balancing out the full title of the book. Both authors get to trade off on who's name comes first! Dare I say, this is a work of genius. I could dock some points for Crowley's sad bat wings growing out of his right clavicle, but who am I to question greatness.

Tier: Blessed by God Herself

3. The Halo Master Chief(?) cover

How the mighty have fallen... As a Canadian child, I was subjected to maybe the most horrifying ad in existence by the War Amps warning children about machine safety. This cover is the paper embodiment of that ad. I am confused by the purple haze. I am frightened by the seeming ethereal flatness of Adam and Dog. I am strangely aroused by Aziraphale's eyebrows, and intensely saddened by the terrible outline/drop shadow they had to inflict on the type to fit "Pratchett" in that god awful space. Tier: WTF

4. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers

This cover inexplicably exists in two colour ways: red and teal. I put the audiobook cover here so you could experience the full illustration, and also how fucked up it is that they cropped the book version to include three horse-people of the apocalypse, but cut off DEATH on the regular cover. Points must be given for drawing a pretty slick Bentley, but I think we have to take even more points away for turning Crowley into a Ray Charles/Mike Wazowski hybrid. The ducks are nice. Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

5. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers continued

I don't know if the German designer of this cover *knew* that they were using western yeehaw cowboy woodblock letters when they made this cover, but judging by how they spaced the rest of the text at the bottom, THEY DID NOT CARE. And that seems to be a running theme for this one. We get kind of a duality thing going on with the black and pink background, but it just seems like somebody whispered the general themes of Good Omens into a jar, and threw it down a well, and this poor chap came along and picked it up. The baffling choice to align every piece of text on the cover *except* Neil Gaiman's name which is right aligned and rotated 90 degrees (not even real vertical type) will haunt my dreams, I think.

Tier: Bad

6. US, UK The Traffic Jam cover

For the love of Good Omens, WHY. I can think of so many more interesting symbols to put on the cover of this book than the ODEGRA SIGIL TRAFFIC JAM. Props for keeping the good colours and type, but like, I think this cover was secretly designed by @amtrak-official, or someone who just really, really likes public works. Tier: Does the Job

7. France, De bons présages cover

Leave it to France to make sure people know that Aziraphale and Crowley fuck severely. While I can't condone leaving out half the title of the book (and thinking a red carpenter's square counts as decoration), I can begrudgingly acknowledge that Ron Pearlman and Benedict Cumberbatch's love child is excellent Crowley casting. I think I give this a solid dark academia/10. Tier: Good (Omens)

8. France, De bons présages covers continued

Just imagine with me, if you will, the absolutely hilarious reality that this cover posits: Good Omens is exactly the same in every respect, but Crowley drives a pink 1950s convertible. Why do all of the colours on this cover look like they've been pre-digested? Why are the font choices and placement so bafflingly bad. My face is the demon's face holding that car. I feel his pain.

Tier: WTF

9. France, De bons présages covers continued

Minus points for not managing to write the full title of the book once again. I don't know what it is with the French. They seem pretty set on Good Omens being demonic. While I do appreciate a good Bosch-style demon party, the dude in the middle confounds me. All-caps Museo Sans that isn't even *centred* in the frame is just so lazy. I am le tired. Tier: Bad

10. France, De bons présages covers continued

Uhh. The font. The font is okay.... I think? Yeah. The font and kerning are. Okay. OHHH GOD I LOOKED DOWN BELOW THE TEXT WHYYYY. Tier: WTF

END of round one. I need a nap.

[moistcl1tikal-ao3]

Okokok what about older stepbro!Schlatt x fem!reader but he's really mean and likes to humiliate her. 🧍🏻‍♀️

Like, mans takes his opportunity to act out when Reader is in a stereotypical position like being bent over in the washing machine 👀

stepbro 🧍coward . make em related /hj

anyway this turned out less "omg stepbro" and more bully vibes. sawwy

-

You were just trying to do laundry. That was it, nothing serious, just laundry. The only problem was, you were vertically challenged, and your nice new panties had gone and glued themselves to the bottom of the top-loading washing machine. The rest of the laundry was loaded into the drier already, but the damn underwear was just out of your reach.

"Ooof," Your stomach ached as you leaned over the edge, trying to reach for the damn underwear as your toes left the ground and kicked in the air for balance.

Your face was red from being upside down, but it got even worse when you heard a low chuckle behind you.

"Oh, that's a little pathetic, huh."

You shot up, banging your head on the agitator as you fell back to the ground. You groaned in pain and the laughing behind you only got louder.

"Fuck off."

"Such language!" Your stepbrother placed a hand against his chest in mock affront. "Should've expected it from you, though."

You were so pissed it made you forget you were in nothing but a sports bra and pajama shorts, the only things you'd had left after the laundry. Not exactly something you'd want to wear around the college guy that had just invaded your house only a few months ago. "Excuse me?"

"Shut up. Here, you need help? I'll help you out. Sibling bonding, ain't that what your mom wants?" Jay leered down at you, filling the doorway of the laundry room with his broad shoulders.

You realized that he was about to see the lacy little set of underwear you'd bought just recently and your face went hot. "No, I got it, don't--"

Trying to deny him only made it worse, his grin widening as he walked to the washer. "Oh, no, baby, I insist. Really. I'll get it."

You tried to move him out of the laundry room but he simply moved you aside, reaching down into the washer and pulling out the panties. They were a light purple, all lacy and delicate and oh god you were gonna throw up-

"Oh wow," he turned them around and held them up to the light as you tried to grab at them, failing to move his arms. "didn't know my baby sister was such a slut. I mean, makes sense, look at you."

"Give me those, you fucking perv!" You yelled, balling up your fist to sock your stepbrother in the stomach. He doubled over briefly, but once you caught his eye you knew you'd fucked up. He squeezed the underwear tightly in one hand as he grabbed you, bending you over the washing machine.

"Don't be so fuckin' loud, hey? You wouldn't want to get me in trouble, would you?" Schlatt hissed, grabbing your neck with one hand. You froze, then very gently shook your head.

"Good. Good girl. See, you can learn." He balled up your new expensive panties and shoved them into your mouth, making you gag on the water and detergent taste. You could only feel the heat of your stepbrother's body against yours as tears pricked at your eyes. His hand came down to rest against your ass, rubbing before delivering a harsh spank to one cheek.

"Mmph!" You whined, trying to wiggle free of his arm's grip around you.

"Oh no, sweetheart, no no no. I'm gonna teach you exactly what happens to sluts in this house." His hand wound up for another smack and your heart sank as you realized you were in for a long afternoon.

[the-cauldron-witch]

Protecting his peace

Prompt I came up with: Raph protects everyone else's peace, but who protects his when it comes down to it?

Set in the bayverse TMNT

This past week had to have been the worst Raph has had since Shredder tried to take the city or Krang taking the world. It was just one thing after another, it felt like there was no rest or reprieve from each event. The botched surveillance mission was the beginning of this shitstorm, April had caught wind of some rogue scientists that had managed to find some left-over technology from the Krang’s invasion attempt. What exactly it did and what exactly they wanted to do weren’t clear, so they set out to the supposedly abandoned warehouse for more information.

Emphasis on the word ‘abandoned’ as in, abandoned for so damn long that when Raph went into the rafters one of the beams had rusted too much to hold his weight. He came crashing down into the enemies, blowing their cover entirely and sending most of them scattering, ultimately ruining the mission. Some scientists made off with equipment in the fray. No amount of apologizing or explaining convinced any of his brothers this wasn’t done out of impatience or defiance, despite how hard Raph tried to convince them. Leo even benched him when they went to find out where their next hide-out would be. That really pissed Raph off.

Being in the lair and being forced to stay there were two different things. If he was willingly in the lair it was home, but when he wasn’t allowed to leave it felt like a prison. Turning to his punching bag was one of two outlets for his anger, which he felt the need to use immediately once his brothers finally leave. Just before the three left to follow another lead, Donnie decided to test out an upgrade for the grappling hook. It would make scaling vertical buildings with flat surfaces much quicker.

The force? Perfect. Velocity and precision? Flawless. Donatello’s aim and self awareness? Lacking, as the grappling claw was launched directly through Raph’s punching bag, sand spilling out in a small pile on the floor.

“Oops...” Donnie squeaked.

This mistake ultimately sent Donnie back a few weeks of work as Raph broke the cable entirely from the gun. It was going to be difficult to find another cable the same length and strength. 

Turning his anger to the gym was his second best option, Raph tripling his workout routine and doubling the weight on each machine. The burn and sweat on his muscles helped seal the rage at how completely unfair his situation was, focusing on the work out rather than deal with it.

His sanctuary was unfortunately going to be short-lived thanks to his youngest brother. When Raph put his weights down and headed to the kitchen, wanting to grab a quick power snack before moving onto his next workout, Mikey set to work. Sneaking into the room whilst his brother was busy Mikey set to work on yet another one of his pranks. He had found a recipe on Donnie’s computer for a paint-bomb, one that was actually pretty powerful and took a minute to detonate. This was going to be his best one yet, having made it a bit bigger than the previous ones.

Returning to his spot in the common living space, pretending he was listening to his music the whole time and didn’t notice Raph returning to the weight room, Mikey eagerly waited for his plan to unfold. Biting into the quick sandwich he threw together, Raph stood in the middle of the room for a moment debating on what equipment he wanted to use next. Before he could make a decision or even take a second bite there was a resounding BOOM! Sending bright neon pink paint everywhere, covering far more than the previous bombs.

The previous ones had about a two or three foot blast radius, just enough to make a mess and startle the target while still being manageable for clean up. Not this one. From the ceiling, to the standing mirrors, to every barbell and piece of workout equipment inside the room- himself included, were covered in a fairly thick layer of paint. Spitting the sudden foulness out of his mouth Raph scraped the paint off of his face, his sandwich completely obliterated out of his hand in the blast. Hawking onto the floor, Raph took a long stunned moment to collect himself and register what was happening.

“Oh, shit...” Mikey muttered from the entrance of the gym, wide eyed and a bit taken aback himself. He had not intended for the blast to be THAT big and messy, just enough to startle Raph, maybe a little paint on his dumbbells and a little bit on himself. Right now, it was so pink it looked like it was Barbie’s personal gym. Letting out a guttural snarl Raph was across the room before Mikey had time to get a safe distance away, unable to stop his older brother from blackening his left eye.

Today, two days later from the paint bomb, Raph had absolutely had enough. He screwed up a mission by accident and no one wanted to believe him, now both of his best outlets are completely in disarray. The mostly empty sandbag hung like a chicken on a hook, swaying back and forth gently. Neon pink dried paint still clung to every surface in his workout room, which he demanded be cleaned the previous night. That started off the day's argument.

“This is fucking bullshit!!” Raphael roared, kicking the coffee table over as he stormed out of the common living area.

“Jesus Christ, Raph. Will you calm down?” Leo growled in annoyance, having had enough of his awful mood.

“Your attitude is getting out of hand, Raphael-” Master Splinter chastised, entering the living area with a tap of his cane. He wasn’t pleased with what little good furniture they had being abused.

“Are you shitting me, how the fuck am I the one in trouble?!” Raph exploded in disbelief.

“Do not use such language with me-”

“FUCK THIS!”

Walking tenderly into the lair you listened with caution as voices grew louder and angrier, your boyfriend's voice loudest of all. You had already known about the events of this week through many curse filled texts and phone calls. Talking him down from his heated state took some gentle words and reassurance of returning to the city after visiting family soon. You cut the trip a day short and returned early, you didn’t even bother going home to drop off your things and simply parked it in the usual safe spot you used.

Fury had completely blinded Raph as he stormed off, shoving Leo roughly out of his way as he headed for his room without noticing you entered. The silence was heavy once Raph’s door slammed shut, an uncomfortable aura hanging in the air as you were slowly noticed. No one really said anything to break the tension, so you decided to.

“I’m going to go talk to him,”

“Good luck,” Mikey scoffed from his seat on the couch, his left eye half lidded and swollen. Ignoring the snide comment you continued down the hall to the sound of what could be described as a bull kicking up a tornado. A loud smash and clatter of broken wood could be heard from the other side of the door followed by a few more snarled curses from the infuriated mutant turtle within. Taking a second to let one or two more items be hurled across the room before you reached out and knocked firmly.

Footsteps vibrating from behind the firmly locked door shook beneath you, but didn’t intimidate you in the slightest. The second the door is ripped open and nearly off the wall Raph opened his mouth to roar demandingly just who the hell had the audacity to try and talk to him right now, only for his gaze to fall on you. Immediately his demeanor changed, his shoulders relaxed and face softened from being so tense just seconds ago. You didn’t need to ask permission to come in as Raph side-stepped out of the way and closed the door gently behind you as you entered.

The debris scattered about his room was hard to identify, you were pretty sure the wood was his nightstand and some of the plastic was a game controller, the rest you couldn’t identify. Silent and sulking Raph trudged over to his bed and sat at the edge, his elbows digging into his thighs heavily and gaze secured to the floor. Had he known you had made your way into the lair, he wouldn’t have gotten so loud and angry, that wasn’t a side of him he wanted you seeing and you knew it.

Stepping around the debris you made your way to his bed quietly, normally you would have slipped off your shoes and left them at the entrance but the many broken pieces scattered around the floor made that difficult. The only sound you could hear was the low, deep growl under his breath and the unmistakable grind of his molars as he chewed on his emotions so he could swallow them back down.

He didn’t lift his head as you came to stand directly in front of him, his gaze now at your feet. Palms gently taking either side of his face, you gently lifted his gaze to meet yours, his face was scrunched with clear frustration.

“Talk to me, baby” Leaning over you pressed a kiss to his forehead, letting him know it was safe to let it out. He was still just a moment before taking a deep breath and letting out a long, slow sigh. Wrapping his massive arms around your midsection he pulled your form to his, calloused hands pressing you flush to him as he rested his head on your shoulder and buried his face into your neck.

“I...They...mmph” Tripping over his words Raph sucked in a breath, using your scent to center himself and his thoughts. “It’s like...it’s like I’m not allowed to make a mistake, like as soon as I do somethin’ wrong more shit goes wrong just to beat me further...like I’m not allowed to be angry about how unfair this shit is!”

He huffed frustratedly, pulling you directly into his lap as he began scooting backwards until his shell met the wall with a small thud. The rage in his voice was dwindling, but did not extinguish, not that you could honestly blame him. In your opinion he had every right to be angry, especially since he was genuinely innocent this time. You might not have been there, but by the genuine hurt of not being believed in his eyes made you believe him entirely.

“You’re allowed to feel mad about this, it is completely unfair” You sympathized with him, one palm still cupping his cheek with your thumb gently stroking the softer part of his skin. “Honestly I’m upset for you, you shouldn’t be ganged up on over just one mistake. Everyone makes mistakes, you don’t deserve to be ganged up on for it”

The way his eyes soften at your words made your own anger rise. Raph’s temper may burn the brightest, but that shouldn’t overshadow his own emotions. Swallowing thickly he didn’t respond at first, allowing the rest of his emotions to finally settle. Hurt, disappointment, invalidation, each emotion bubbled and slowly revealed itself as you quelled the rage.

“Like they didn’t screw up too,” He grumbled angrily, “My punching bag basically got disemboweled and my work out room is still covered in paint ‘cause a Donnie and Mikey, but I’m the one getting yelled at for being mad about it!”

“Is that what all that yelling was about?” You questioned gingerly, raising an eyebrow to him.

“I was telling Mikey his ass needed to go and clean my fuckin’ workout room! He had the audacity to tell me to wait ‘cause he was playing some game like it ain’t been two days,” Throwing his free hand in the air in exasperation Raph let it drop onto your thigh, his fingers firmly digging into your flesh and pulling you closer somehow. “I told him if he didn’t clean it ASAP I was gonna crack his shell, then Master Splinter starts in on me and gettin’ mad cause I’m pissed off”

It was strange voicing the emotions slowly simmering in his chest instead of lashing out and covering them up or working them out with weights, all of his focus on scorching them into nonexistence. With your coaxing and genuine care, Raph slowly started talking them through and understanding them more, which unfortunately made him feel them more.

“I’m sorry baby. Did he even say a word to Mikey or Donnie?” Squirming in his lap to get comfortable you slipped your pinned arm under his, pressing your cheek into his collar where his plastron met skin. Tears stung and pricked the edges of his eyes, threatening to spill over and be absorbed by his mask. He didn’t want to cry, that felt like admitting defeat, but he couldn’t stop the overwhelming amount of emotions he was feeling now that you opened the floodgates. It was all overwhelming for him now.

“Tch, hell if I know, probably not. Like he or any’a them care, he didn’t even believe me either when I told him about Leo’s bullshit-”

“Are you seriously still on about that?” A scoffing demand from the eldest intruder as the door somehow opened unnoticed. Fire returning to his core Raph audibly gnashed his teeth together, outrage immediately returning to his very being.

“Oh wow, he’s actually crying too” Mikey commented as his own head poked in.

“Get the FUCK out!”

The loud and demanding bark shockingly did not come from Raphael, but yourself. It even came as a shock to you, but seeing the two offending brothers flinch back granted you some unforeseen vigor in you. Releasing you from his grip Raph watched with astonishment as you crawled from his embrace, unsure of how to react to you exploding on his brothers. You had known all of them for some time now, where friends before starting a relationship with Raphael, never had you taken such a tone with any of them.

“You are being completely and totally unreasonable! How are you going to keep dogging on Raph after a mistake like you’re something perfect, huh?” Your heels stomped on the floor with each step you took towards the door, eyes locked with the eldest. There was no response from Leo even as his mouth opened to speak. He didn’t know what or how to respond. With no retort coming, you decided to continue this tangent on behalf of your boyfriend. If they weren’t going to listen to him, they damn well were going to listen to you now.

“And then you come in here and make fun of him for being upset over all this?” You turned yourself to Mikey, who had taken a few paces back when you began shouting. “Especially when his weight room looks like that! It’s like it came out of a damn pepto bismol commercial”

His eye ached when Mikey winced at your comment, the guilt finally digging its claws in. In all honesty the paint bomb wasn’t meant to be that messy, but Mikey had apologized for it...right? Now he was second guessing himself as he felt his eye throbbing.

“Not to MENTION what happened to his punching bag!” You decided to add quickly, not wanting to lose momentum on this running train.

“Sorry...” Came Donnie’s small voice from in front of his desktop, the sincerity in his voice tugging at your chest a little. Given the state of the hollow bag hanging in its spot still, you didn’t feel too bad for calling him out.

“A little late, Donnie!” You huffed in indignation, “You all ganged up on him when he did something wrong and expected him to fix his mistake somehow, but you all made a mistake and you won’t even apologize for it!”

There was an unmistakable static in the air now as you waited for someone to speak up. Swallowing thickly Leo continued to hold your intense glare with his own, normally he would have spat something back with what Mikey would call his ‘leader voice’ in regards to questioning his leadership- but he wasn’t your leader. You were a long time and close friend, so maybe your words worked a little differently.

“Look, maybe we did make mistakes, but we’re not the ones disturbing the peace and lashing out at everyone!” Leo couldn’t think of any other counter argument at this moment. Was there any other argument, though? He wasn’t wrong, Raph had lashed out, but you still couldn’t blame him.

“Well, you know what? I’m protecting his peace now, because he feels none of you give a shit” Your voice was curt and harsh but not as raised as it was. Taking a step back you grabbed the side of the door, “He’ll talk to you all when he’s ready!”

Swinging the door shut firmly you didn’t give anyone a chance to speak further, the slam of the door effectively sending the lair into silence again. Raphael’s eyes never left your frame, stunned silent at your words. Protecting his peace. It was a strange feeling, he was normally the one protecting himself and those around- he saved the city twice in his lifetime alone. Not since he was a child did he feel like he needed protection, yet somehow here you were doing just that for him.

Beside the door taped to the wall was a Vin Diesel movie poster of one of his many films, pinching the untapped corner of the paper you gently pulled it up to reveal the keypad underneath. Keying in the specific code, which was really just Raphael’s given birthdate, there was a hiss and shudder from within the walls as you activated the security system. The door was now locked tight, the only person that could even hope to enter now was Donnie- if he steeled his nerves enough to make the attempt to enter the dragon's den now. After everything that you had said, you had no intention of letting his family back in his room.

There was a power in your step as you strode back over to the bed, heels crushing whatever litter was scattered across the floor instead of carefully stepping around the mess as you had earlier. A small stone formed by guilt sat uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach, you’d never even had a serious argument with them let alone all the things you had just said. But you meant it, you were protecting his peace when he felt no one else cared about it.

The way he opened his arms to you, beaconing you to come back to him, made your heart hurt some. With the anger washed away finally left behind only hurt in his green eyes that begged you for more comfort silently. Crawling across the messy bed spread you climbed back into his lap, burying yourself under his chin as he dipped his head and held you close to him.

“Thank you...” Was all he murmured, a tear unintentionally spilling from pure frustration. Kissing his cheek you held him the best you could, given the size difference it was the best you could do.

His peace deserved protecting just as much as anyone.

[widmakenametal]

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[cosmos-impex-india-pvt-ltd]

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[ynrenggcluster]

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[aetherdoesthings]

hanahaki!reader x arlecchino part 2

forethoughts: i'm aetherdoesthings, of course i don't stick to my schedule. anyways, apologies if the timing of this fic seems wonky. i had specific scenarios in my head when i was planning this, with each stage of filming, which i have no clue about because that is not the path i took, so yeah :]. enjoy early upload!

notes: alocohol mentioned!!! drinking is in this!!! reader does drink!! don't be like reader this was just for plot drink responsibly guys!!! modern setting, arlecchino and reader are actresses, fem!reader, hanahaki au

“So, how’s everything? Still coughing up a storm?” You choked on your coffee when you heard that familiar voice, echoing in your head like a broken stereo. 

“I guess you still are. Wow, an entire year?” Arlecchino chuckled, pressing a few buttons on the coffee machine. “So what did the doctor say? Just a cough? Cold? Colds don’t last for a year. Doesn’t look like a fever.”

“R-Right, u-um, just a cough. Y-Yeah.” You nodded your head, mustering up a smile.

Damn it, Y/N, you’re an actress. Act. You scolded yourself on your performance. 

“Alright then.” Arlecchino gazed at your smile, one finding its way onto hers. “I hope you’ll be okay; tomorrow is all about shooting promotion videos and the day after traveling from studio to studio to do interviews.”

Your face instantly paled at Arlecchino’s words. Shit. Promo week. No rest, non stop smiling, repeating the same phrase over and over again on different networks and platforms. The worst part was that Arlecchino was right by your side the entire time during the shoot, acting all lovey dovey towards you to sell to the audience that the two of you were playing a pair of couples. Then again, you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited to read comments after comments of netizens shipping the two of you together. Your heart fluttered at the thought, the child inside you kicking their feet in the air as you held back a grin. Well, you held the grin back, but not the cough.

Your left hand shot up to your mouth, your body already letting the cough take place, letting the petal travel up your esophagus and into your palm. You didn’t like how your body was already used to the feeling of having a part of a flower regurgitate out of you, muscles immediately jumping into action and making way for the disease in your lungs. Your stomach churned as Arlecchino rubbed her hand on your back, trying to comfort you and make you feel better.

“Oh, Y/N…” Arlecchino’s hand took the hand that was on your mouth, holding it in hers as she made you look at her. It took every single willpower inside you to not blush or let any sort of heat course through your body, biting down a whine as her fingers found its way to your chin. Your bones turned into toothpicks, joints threatening to disappear. 

“Are you sure you are going to be alright? You don’t need to power through all those interviews if you physically cannot-”

“I can.” A surge of stubbornness and pride overpowered your senses. Arlecchino didn’t know you were in love with her, and Arlecchino certainly did not need to know you were in love with her, and that you were a weak little coward that let a disease run your life.

“I can.” You repeated yourself, nodding your head. “I’ll power through. I promise.”

You felt like you were telling yourself that more than you were telling Arlecchino. 

Arlecchino stared at you, those crimson eyes giving you no clue into what she felt. Arlecchino pursed her lips, before removing herself from you. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, darling.”

And just like that, Arlecchino left the room, her hands leaving your body. You let out a gasp at the missing touch, confused and baffled by her actions, cheeks flaring red at her nickname for you. All alarms in your brain all went off at once, your stomach doing a backflip and your vertical toothpicks turning horizontal. You looked at your left hand, noticing the empty palm. That’s strange. A flower petal was always there after your skin turned red and you got lightheaded. Your mind flashed back to Arlecchino’s hand around yours, how you thought her act of intertwining your fingers was supposed to be an effort to comfort you. 

Oh, how naïve you were.

Arlecchino had the petal.

Arlecchino knew.

Arlecchino was going to have the evidence she needed to confirm her suspicions.

How would she even know-

You always coughed whenever she got close or when you talked to her, you idiot, and she’s a fucking genius, so she’ll piece everything together! Your brain quarreled with each other, your body leaving the room as you stood there like a soldier made of stone, palm open and empty.

Maybe there wasn’t a petal this time. One side argued.

There always is one. 

But maybe there wasn’t.

You leaned onto that sentence, clinging onto it as if it was your lifeline. Maybe there wasn’t a petal this time when you coughed. Maybe it really was just a cough. It wasn’t a cough from your stupid crush on the beautiful, intelligent-

She definitely knows.

You stared at the bread knife on the table, stabbed into a piece of baguette. If only that baguette was your heart, perhaps you wouldn’t have to deal with the constant yes or no that battled in your head, no side willing to raise the white flag yet. 

This was Arlecchino. Hollywood star with a hundred million followers. Everybody knew her name. No haters, no drama, just an absolute queen living among peasants. And… you were one of those peasants. 

As if Arlecchino would ever love you back.

As if Arlecchino would ever want to spend time with you, a total D tier so-called actress.

But maybe there wasn’t a petal this time.

Maybe. How that word was able to make hope fill your heart and shatter it into tiny pieces.

Furina was giving a speech. You were amongst the crowd of both cast and crew, a glass of wine in your damp grip. Your finger drummed against your pants, waiting for her monologue to end so you could ditch the party. 

Somehow, you managed to survive through the whole filming process, despite having to cough up petals every day. Yes, people turned their eyes towards you, then towards the other normal people to talk about the freak you were. Coughing and disrupting every other scene where Arlecchino’s character had to be in close proximity with you. The minute Furina ended her speech, you snatched a full bottle of wine from one of the serves, disappearing into the blank hallways before anyone could start a conservation with you. You ducked into a nearby broom closet, the walls managing to drown out most of the sound of laughter and conversations. You closed the door behind you, sinking down to your knees as a sigh of relief passed through your lips instead of a petal. With the bottle of wine already opened, you wrapped your lips around the front, chugging all the wine down your throat, hoping that’ll be enough to make you forget your situation, even better end your predicament for you. If the disease wasn’t going to kill you, alcohol will. And you were a much bigger fan of the latter.

The noise did not die down for the rest of your time you spent in the closet, your head resting against the wood. Maybe no one will find you here, and leave you here to rot. Yeah. No one paid attention to you, even though you were supposed to be the co-star of the movie. After all, it was Arlecchino you were working with. Arlecchino. Everyone loved her, everyone wanted a picture with her. You? You were just there to hold her bags. That was all you were worth.

“Oh, Arlecchino.” You laughed into the darkness, head rolling against the door. “Why must you be like this?”

You despised the feeling of helplessness and dependency on another person.

You never intended to fall in love with Arlecchino. The constant need to see her and hear her voice was never desired.

And now there was a damn disease you were plagued with that forced you to confront something you wish never existed.

There were two options to get rid of hanahaki forever. Either you confess your love to Arlecchino and she says yes, or you confess your love to Arlecchino and get rejected. 

“Like she’ll ever love me back.” You laughed, bringing the glass to your mouth, even though it was empty.

Suddenly, the door swung open, causing you to fall onto the wooden ground, drunken eyes readjusting to the harsh lights, a crimson and white figure partially blocking your sight.

“Hmn. So this is what people stricken by hanahaki is like? They drink themselves out of their misery and hide in a broom closet?” Arlecchino’s voice echoed in your head, that signature snarkiness and mockery in her voice. Though there was a tint of warmth and concern in her voice as well, or maybe you were just hallucinating again. 

Yep, you’re done for.

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: virgin men, masturbation, sexual fantasies, implied age gaps, implied inexperienced sexual relationships, oral sex, masturbation, whats the thing where you get caught jerkin it? that.

Everyone loves virgin! Simon who's unknowingly a sex god while he bullies a fat cock into your horny cunt. Huffing and puffing in your ear as he asks you how good you feel, accidentally overstimulating you but far too clueless to even consider that your shaking and trembling is related to how dumb he fucked you. 'Course, he was just trying to be sweet to you, maybe get some coffee if you hadn't jumped on him for a good ride on his meat.

Even virgin! König had a considerable amount of attention for his monstrous cock that he'd never be able to fully fill you with. Too much of a jock-ish idiot to even know where to begin with foreplay, just rams his fingers up your cunt until you're sore and bucking your own hips against his palm to help smear your sloppy juices down his wrist. Every single "do you feel good?" is followed by your crying whines for him to shut the fuck up and keep stroking his own cock. Eyes wide watching pearl tears drizzle from the angry tip.

But where do I, the writer, draw the line? Virgin! Price. Old bastard aged like fine wine, his values held to something much more conservative - planned to spend his first time with a beautiful woman he dressed in pretty white silk on her wedding day. Someone who made his heart throb passionately; not with lust and the greedy desire to consume and ravage away her beauty.

Ideally, a woman to grow a family with.

Of course, considering his job, the risks his simple existence poses on any of those close to him - he cowered. Though, Price never really did see a true need to focus on that one, simple wish. He was satisfied with his 141, a group of rebellious young men he considered his own children; he was satisfied with his rare takes of leave, where he spent his time hiking and hunting, occasionally catching up with old friends from his civilian life; most importantly, Price was content.

Was.

A past tense term, considering his "ideals" of what made life so damn tolerable were thrown out the window. Shattered into billions of pieces that painted maps around the single coffee mug that was left on his desk one early morning. A note in your handwriting, with the coffee made just exactly as he liked it, and maybe even a small pastry from the vending machine - a pastry which was his favorite. Usually one that was hard to get because it was so damn good. And the note?

Have a good day, Cap'n! Love ya! btw, this is your favorite, yeah?

Fuck. You were too cruel. You and your pretty handwriting, smudged in blue gel pen ink. It was cute, sweet, endearing from a young thing like you. Made him feel sick and perverse, adjust the tightness that began around his crotch - because it felt so fucking dirty to be some turned on by a kind gesture. Especially a gesture from something as sweet and innocent looking as you.

All of those thoughts in his mind brought to a painful, stirring silence. Price would've almost felt shame for his next actions, the somehow graphic act of taking a huff of the sweetly scented drink made just for himself by you. The smearing of his finger tips against the note and getting a faint whiff of your sweet scented hand cream, the one you keep in the staff fridge, bitching at anyone who touches at it (something he was personally victim to).

The gentle, candied scent was enough to make his cock stir; rub against the rough fabric of his boxers, through his pants, through to his palm that somehow assisted in a slow, grinding motion against his self. His hand tilting backwards, eyes rolling back. Was the door locked? He wondered, not bothering to even give himself a glance at the knob to see if the slit was tilted horizontally or vertically; none of it mattered, too consumed by the peak edge he needed.

Too consumed by filthy, tainted thoughts of you. Your lips smeared in his own milk white sperm, no doubt still virile despite his years of maturity; wondered if his load would take if you just gave him the chance. Wondered if you'd pant, or moan his name. If your cunt dripped or creamed around his throbbing cock; what he'd kill to see your entire body trembling from a few bounces against him. Shove his calloused fingers into that pretty mouth of yours, begging you to be silent, and good.

You would be his first and final; a crossing thought that blurred past his mind. And the thought of putting a pretty jewel on that little ring finger of yours made him audibly gasp, sweat droplets splatter down from his cheek to his chin. And you, you're so young, full of potential. A real energetic pup that would probably eagerly teach him all the ways to make you feel good.

By now, Price was roughly, almost brutishly, fisting his own cock. Panting and hunched over the pretty note made by pretty you. His eyes squeezed shut as he bit into his fist, trembling at the splattering liquid that filled his palm. Droplets hitting the floor beneath him, a mess that would be so fucking frustrating to clean; the last thought on his mind.

Because how could he focus when you stood at the other side of the desk, a palm on either side as you leaned forward. So softly whispering: "Cap'n, did you like the coffee that much?"

Virgin! Price, who gives you the honor of being the first missus to wrap a warm mouth and plump lips against the tip of cock, kitten licks to clean away pearly beads of arousal that dribbled down the shaft. His clean hand rubbing your scalp so gently, humming soft, purring coos; mentally pondering your ring size as you greedily fit him inside your mouth. Whining vibrations fading the thought away once again.

tagging my fwends: @yandere-kokeshi @kettlemouse @babybimbo777