#automatic hand dryers

[dolphyaustralia]

A Comprehensive Guide to Hand Dryers: Types, Features, and Benefits

Hand dryers are electric appliances that are used to dry hands after they have been washed. Most hand dryers are made up of an apparatus with a downward-facing vent into which wet hands are inserted. Some newer hands-in dryers feature an opening through which hands can be inserted to dry from both sides.

Why use the best hand dryers?

After people have washed their hands, the next step is to clean them. The drying process, on the other hand, is determined by the type of hand dryer. You have a decent dryer to quickly dry your fingers. Hand dryers not only remove mud and dust from your palms, but they also remove some microorganisms from your body.

Hand dryers in a variety of designs and styles are reasonably priced. As a result, selecting the best one can be difficult. We've been filming and researching hand dryers for several hours. We compiled a list of the top ten commercial electric hand dryers on the market today.

To choose the best hand dryer for your bathroom or lavatory, you should understand a few simple criteria. The best hand dryers are typically available in a wide range of sizes, styles, and qualities. There is also a large selection of traditional hand dryers. As a result, selecting the proper hand dryer is critical.

Nobody wants to pay their money. However, dryers are a useful restroom feature. However, you should go for the simplest to get the most out of the best hand dryers.

Because hand dryers are becoming increasingly popular, there are numerous manual dryers available from various brands. The correct one is also perplexing among those options. That is why I write some notes before constructing the acquisition. Take your time reading!

Hand Dryers with a Push Button;- If you want to use a conventional, traditional hand dryer, keep in mind that you must press a button to activate this device. These are less expensive but take longer to complete the task.

Best Automatic Hand Dryers;- A high-speed manual dryer takes 10 to 15 seconds to dry hands. We have a lot of energy and are environmentally friendly. However, if you choose these types, you will have to spend a little more money. Eventually, with the help of the key, a new mechanical hand dryer was created. Simply place your hand under the dryer, and it will begin immediately.

Speed;- The perfect hand dryer's performance should be very fast. Customers are typically unable to clean their hands in 45 seconds. As an alternative, you could end up with a huge mess in the toilets. It's worthwhile to invest in a fast dryer. This could be very useful for you.

Level of noise;- All air-blowing machines, in general, make noise. Choose a quiet dryer if you intend to install it in a noisy location. However, models with variable noise control motors are available.

Durability and reliability;- You are not required to invest your money in a product that is no longer functional. If you buy a hand dryer, you should consider the type of finish you want and how long it will last.

Cost and Budget;- The budget is an important consideration in the purchasing process. The price of the dryer is determined by the type of product. Commodities with basic features are less expensive than those with additional features.

You may have to pay more if you want a product with a great feel, high performance, and power efficiency. Nonetheless, we recommend that you invest in one high-quality, long-lasting product rather than replacing parts for a low-cost hand dryer.

Australia's largest hotel product supplier and supplier Dolphy's hand dryer is an excellent product for keeping your hands dry and safe. Automatic hand dryers are ideal for quickly and easily drying your hands. Jet Hand Dryers are suitable for use in bathrooms, hotels, toilet accessories, shopping malls, and public restrooms. Originally Published at:

[cumulohimbus]

[Insert joke about sensory issues and automatic hand dryers]

[dollysharma]

Hand Dryer for Washroom Use

Hand dryers are powered by electricity and are used to quickly and efficiently dry your hands after being washed. Automatic hand dryers are most commonly used in public bathrooms. Automatic hand driers work by circulating warm air and using a motion sensor that detects when you put your hand under the hand dryer. The sensor then sends out a powerful stream of warm air to dry your hand. There are several advantages of automatic hand driers over paper towels.

https://bharatphoton.com/category/hand_dryer

[helen-with-an-a]

You always have an excuse pt 2

Hi. So I got a request for a pt 2 of You Always Have An Excuse. This is a little angstier than I thought it was gonna go, but I really like it.

Barça Femeni x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2

Description: R realises what she's been missing out on

Word Count: 3k

After the final, when you had come clean about what was truly going on in your life. You hadn’t expected much to change. Why would you? You had once told a teacher, back when you were still in primary school, that your parents weren’t home much and that you hadn’t seen your mother in a few days. She had smiled and said that it was normal for parents to be working hard – it was how you could afford nice things – and she was sure you’d see your mother again soon.

When you landed back in Spain after the whirlwind of a weekend, you had pulled out your phone to order an Uber (you had decided to treat yourself rather than forcing all of your bags onto a very busy public bus and metro system) when a gentle hand came to rest on your shoulder.

“You’re on our way home; let me take you.” Ingrid smiled at you, sunglasses perched on her forehead, a very tired Mapí leaning heavily into her.

“No, it’s ok. I’ll just get an Uber,” you gestured with your phone.

“Mete tu culo en el auto.” Mapí grumbled, snatching your phone out of your hands and making her way to the car.

“Sorry, Søta, she can be a little grumpy when she’s tired. But she’s right. Go get in the car; I’ll bring your bags.” Ingrid chuckled, taking your bag from you without giving you much of a choice.

It felt nice being dropped off at your house rather than lugging your bags through the busy Barcelona streets. You waved goodbye to Ingrid and Mapí, thanking them profusely for their kindness and went inside, once again being met by a silent house.

“Mum?” you shouted out. “Dad?” You double-checked all the rooms after being met with complete silence. You checked the notepad they usually left by the kettle. They sometimes wrote notes for you, explaining where they were going and how long they were gone. Nothing. You checked the fridge—empty. You guessed they were going for a while, then.

You really wanted to just collapse on the sofa and let the events of the weekend catch up to you, but you had washing to do, and you really needed a shower. It was now that you really wanted a parent – someone to give you a massive hug, wrap you up in their warm, strong arms and kiss the top of your head, telling you how proud they were before guiding you into the bathroom as they stuck a towel in the dryer to warm up a little. But you didn't have that. Instead, you had an empty house, a mountain of sweaty clothes and an aching body. You hadn’t noticed the tears rolling steadily down your cheeks until you tasted salt.

This wasn’t you. You didn’t cry. You didn’t. You couldn’t. But after the final, you had experienced so many functional families that it truly showed you what you were missing. Alexia had brought you straight over to her Mami, where you were engulfed in one of the best hugs you’d ever received. She had kissed your forehead, telling you all about how well you had played and how you must come with Alexia for the next family meal. From there, you were passed to Ona’s family, then Keira’s, then Lucy’s. Almost every family had embraced you – squeezing you tightly as you melted into their arms. Was it a skill you developed when you became a mother that you automatically gave fantastic hugs? Maybe you were just so touch-deprived that you would relax into anyone who offered you a warm place to rest for a moment?

You were on autopilot as you went through the motions of getting ready for bed. You were methodical yet unthinking as you washed your body, hardly noticing the too-hot water and bruises littering your skin. You were going through the motions as you shoved your clothes into the wash – the dirty fabrics being shoved in without distinction. As you pulled on your pyjamas (really, it was a ratty old Manchester City shirt you had snuck from Lucy during her first season at Barça during an away match and a pair of La Masia shorts you think were Patri’s once upon a time), you longed for a hug. Something warm and comforting, but you had to settle with your bed. It was comfortable; the mattress was something you had forked out for when you received your first paycheck. The softness was something you usually welcomed – the high thread count sheets that cost you an exorbitant amount of money typically aided in your relaxation after a hard day at training. But today, they did nothing but highlight just how lonely you felt. You had been given a snippet of what you were missing, and you wanted … needed … more. The bed was too cold, the pillows were too soft, the room smelled like laundry and general cleanliness rather than comfort.

Your night was filled with tossing and turning – leaving you even more tired than when you had gone to bed. Just like last night, you were on autopilot. Turning off your alarm, having a shower, making a cup of coffee, eating a piece of toast – none of it you consciously did. You made your bed like you did every morning; you gave the house a quick once over – triple checking your parents hadn’t come home in the night; you sat down at the table, pulling out a piece of paper to make a grocery list when you heard a knock on the front door. You considered ignoring it – you weren’t expecting anyone. But it wasn’t going away. The banging got louder and more insistent the longer you left it.

“Sí, puedo ayudarte?” You said monotonously as you yanked the door out of your way.

“Cariño?” Alexia asked, concern seeping into her voice.

“Ale?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Can I come in?” She asked, not really letting you answer as she pushed her way into your house. Alexia took your hand as she passed, the warm seeping into your bones, leaving a gentle tingle in its wake. You were dragged into the living room, Alexia pushing you to the sofa as she sat next to you, never letting go of your hand. “Your parents aren’t here, are they?” She phrased it as a question, but you knew she knew the answer. You sighed, shaking your head and shrugging your indifference.

“They’re never here; it’s no biggie.” You smiled meekly at her.

“No, that’s not true. It is a biggie. They should be here for you. You are a child; you need your parents. Parents give you hugs and tell you everything is ok. Parents tell you they’re proud of you. Parents don’t ignore their kid to the point where they don’t even know what sport they play, let alone that they have just won one of the biggest competitions in Europe.” She was ranting now. “Parents don’t leave the country without telling their kid. Parents look after their children.”

“Well, I’m not a child!” You shouted, interrupting her tirade. You also pulled your hand out of hers – ignoring the fact that every fibre of your being was screaming at you not to. Alexia looked at you, confusion evident in her expression. “I turned 18 last week.” You added quietly. That was a secret you had hoped not to spill. You hadn’t had to work too hard to hide your birthday; not even the Barça admins knew the day had passed. You made the mistake of looking at Alexia. You really, really wished you hadn’t. The hurt that flashed across her face did more to break your heart than anything your parents could (or couldn’t) do to you.

“We missed your birthday?” She asked so quietly you struggled to hear her.

“I didn’t tell anyone. You technically didn’t miss anything if you never knew.” You avoided her gaze, fingers coming together to fiddle nervously on your lap. Alexia stood up sharply, her unexpected movement drawing your attention once again.

“Stand up.” She instructed.

“What why?”

“Pack a bag, you’re coming home with me.” Her tone left no room for argument, yet you still tried to.

“Wha-why? No, I’m fine. It’s ok, honestly. It’s nothing. I promise I’m fine.” Your voice crack gave you away. You so desperately wanted to go with Alexia, to have her take care of things for you, to have her give you the warm hugs and soft smiles you had seen her give Vicky and Martina. You had always shied away from her contact, though, chalking it up to disliking physical contact. But now, after the weekend of hugs and kisses from loving families – you knew it was your subconscious protecting you from something you knew you wouldn’t receive regularly.

“Pequeña. This is not up for debate. Either you pack a bag and come with me, or I move in here with you. And I have a feeling that your parents, whenever they do return, would not want a 30-year-old woman living in their house uninvited.” She quirked an eyebrow at you, daring you to go against her again.

“I can’t,” you squeaked out.

“Why not?” Despite her firm voice, you could tell she wanted to figure out why you were so reluctant to leave this life behind. This was all you’d ever known. The isolation, the self-sufficiency, the hiding, and the lying. You didn’t know what would happen if you let yourself fall into Alexia’s open arms. What if she left again, too? There had been rumours swirling all over the internet. You couldn’t let yourself be attached to a singular person. It would hurt far too much if they left. You were fairly sure you wouldn’t be able to be fixed.

“I can’t,” you settled on instead of explaining the whole truth to her.

“Why not?” She asked again, the firmness gone as she saw your composure start to break.

“I …” The lump in your throat prevented you from speaking any more. You took some steadying breaths, willing yourself not to cry. Alexia crouched in front of you, ignoring the slight ache in her muscles as she ran her fingers up and down your bare thighs in soothing, repetitive motions. “If … if I let myself become too reliant on people … on you … and you don’t want me anymore … I think I might break.” You spoke so slowly, so softly, that Alexia had to strain to hear you.

“Oh, querida. No,” she surged forward, her strong arms wrapped around you, her warm scent invading your senses. "We will always want you. I will always want you.” She said so absolutely, and you had no choice but to believe her.

That was all you needed to hear for the dam to break. Tears bubbled over your carefully constructed walls. You sobbed and sobbed, her grip on you only getting tighter.

“But … wh … ho … I …” you blubbered, the tears getting more and more frantic.

“Shhhh, it’s ok, cariño. I’ve got you.” Her comforting words made you cry harder. You were limp as she rearranged the both of you, settling you against her chest as she sat back against the couch.

She let you sob into her chest for as long as you needed. She rocked you gently from side to side, her fingers scratching at your scalp as her heartbeat provided a soothing rhythm for you. Eventually, you calmed down, slowly drifting into a much-needed sleep.

Alexia could tell you weren’t at peace as she watched you sleep. Your eyebrows were scrunched, your mouth a firm line. Your fingers had wrapped themselves in her shirt so tightly she wondered if there would be a hole in the fabric whenever you eventually let go. She wished with her entire being that she could take your pain away. How could someone do this to their child? How could a parent look at their child and not want to love them the way they should be? How could anyone look at you and think you don’t deserve the world and more? If your parents weren’t going to be there for you, she certainly would be.

It was gone lunchtime when you finally woke. Alexia hadn’t moved an inch – it didn’t matter that her arms were sore or her legs had gone numb; you were comfortable, and that was all that mattered.

“Ale?” You croaked, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Sí, cariño?” She hummed, her thumb running gently over your cheekbone.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t …” you flustered a little, scared of her reaction after you had finally broken down on her.

“Hey, no … shhh. Está bien. Estás bien.” She rocked you again, much like a mother would rock her upset child. It was slightly awkward, given your size – but it was nonetheless comforting. “I still want you to pack a bag,” Alexia said, pushing some hair off your face. “You don’t have to come with me,” she added quickly, sensing your reluctance. “But I don’t want you here alone.” You sighed, knowing there was no way you would negotiate your way out of this one. “You could go to Keira’s, but she can’t cook very well, or Ona’s...” she mused "although you might have to put up with Lucy,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper. This made you laugh, a loud, weird huff that brought a similar smile to Alexia’s face. “I haven’t told anyone what you told us at the final. That is your information to share as, and when, you want to.” She implored. “But Mapí and Ingrid will take you in, no questions asked. As would Marta and Caro, Paños, Irene … any one of the girls will take you in. I promise.” You readjusted yourself, drawing back from Alexia’s chest in order to look at her. This was a conversation that needed to happen face-to-face.

“Is it … can I … stay with you?” You asked nervously.

“Absolutamente.” Her hand reached out for yours, her grip so tight it almost hurt.

“What about Olga?” You were reluctant to impose yourself on another adult’s life when they might not want you there.

“She already loves you, and she’s technically only met you, what? Twice?” She teased, her head dipping down to catch your eye. “She wants you there as much as I do. Prometo.” You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to feel the warmth of Alexia’s skin permeating into yours.

“Ok,” you breathed out, watching Alexia’s mouth spread into a wide, genuine smile you didn’t see too often.

------

Moving in with Alexia was the best thing to have ever happened to you. Long gone were the days of rushing for the metro and figuring out where your next meal would come from. Olga had embraced you with open arms – greeting both you and Alexia with identical hugs, forehead kisses and cups of tea as you made your way into the kitchen after a long day at training. Alexia had dragged you along to her family meal; her Mami was insistent on making sure you were well-fed and looked after properly. Alba had smacked Alexia around the head for not bringing you sooner but offered you a warm smile and asked about your week.

Ona had been informed of your situation that afternoon. She quickly showed up with a bag piled high with sweets that definitely broke your diet and demanded to know the Netflix password as she settled down on the sofa, bringing her arm around your shoulder and whispering a promise not too dissimilar to Alexia’s.

Keira had hung around after training one afternoon, offering a tight hug before telling you that her spare room was always open, and you just had to ask, and Narla would be all yours for however long you wanted her. That made you laugh, especially after hearing Lucy’s indignant ‘Oi’ from the showers as she heard Keira’s promise.

Eventually, you did tell the rest of the team about your parents. Jona was the first to know officially. As manager, he needed to know the situation as soon as possible. Alexia had been by your side the whole time, her hand in yours, and she sat with you, stepping in to explain things now and then when she sensed you were becoming overwhelmed. Mapí had wanted to kill your parents – threatening murder and retribution on them for doing this to her ‘niña preciosa’. Ingrid had been just as angry, although she had the forethought to contain her anger. She had pressed a long kiss to the top of your head as she engulfed you in a hug, insisting you come round once a week for a movie night and sleepover.

Slowly, you learned that it was good to rely on people. That it was ok to need help and have that safety net below you. The heartbreak you felt when you thought about your parents would probably always be there, but you learned that you didn’t need them. You had the team … and even if they left and moved away, they would always be there for you. They were one phone call, one plane, train, or car journey away.

Your biological family might have been shite … but you didn’t need them. You had your found family.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Jack fluff concept request pls

Jack has been really clingy with reader after being apart for a couple days. When they’re finally together he can’t stop following her around. When reader walks from the living room to kitchen Jack is speed walking behind her with a big smile on his face. When reader moves to a different spot on the sofa he automatically gathers his stuff and moves right next to her. When y/n is in the restroom doing her business he opens the door ajar and forced her to hold his hand through the little crack💀💀 basically giving her no personal space. Jack gets offended when y/n asks him why he’s acting this way all clingy and more obsessed than usual

I love you

My Baby Love

A/N: I love you too, anon!

Warning: suggestive

You let out a sweet hum as you felt Jack's cold hands slip around your waist, his chest resting against your back. You felt him sink into the bed against your body, letting out a deep sigh.

"You're home", you whispered with a smile, turning in his hold to face him. "Shhh", he mumbled against your forehead in between gentle kisses. "Go back to sleep, babe." You gave him a quick kiss, your fingers finding his beard as you snuggled into his hold, Jack's chin resting on your head.

You woke up a few hours later to the sun in your face, Jack's body heat warming you up against the cold of the room. You didn't want to get up- two weeks away from Jack was way too long, and you knew in the back of your mind the two of you only had a couple of days together before he was traveling again, and you wanted to soak up as much time together as possible.

You laid gentle kisses along his jawline as you watched him sleep, his lashes fluttering as he dreamt, messy curls hanging low in his face. He barely stirred, only pulling you in tighter.

"Jack, I need to get up." You felt a hand move to cup your bottom. "Mhm, no you don't."

"Someone needs to let Lou out." You countered back, trying to wriggle from his hold to no avail. Jack peeked out of one eye, letting out a sharp whistle that immediately got Lou's attention at the end of the bed. "Lou Lou, go potty." You giggled, moving to tickle Jack underneath his arms so he was forced to let you go with a chuckle.

"That's not fair", he whined as he followed you out of the bedroom, his gruff voice was extra scratchy after a night of performing. You could hear the shuffle of his socked feet as he trailed behind you to the kitchen, his hands never leaving your hips.

Everywhere you moved, he moved as well, resting his head against yours as you worked around the kitchen making breakfast.

You enjoyed his touch, having missed it over the last fourteen days, and knowing that Jack's love language was physical touch, you didn't dare object to him holding you. At least- at first you didn't.

Jack followed you everywhere on that quiet Sunday morning. When you went to do laundry, he was right there with you, holding the laundry basket as you loaded the dryer. You enjoyed the company as he told you every detail of his trip; you loved hearing about everything you missed when you couldn't be with him.

As you moved through your to-do list, Jack was like you personal assistant. First, cleaning out your closet. You modeled new pieces and old ones you were thinking of donating, for Jack, and he eagerly gave his opinion on each one. Next, as you answered your work emails, Jack pulled up a chair next to you, watching your every move, his hands moving between massaging your lower back and thighs as you worked.

The closeness really didn't bother you as you moved through your list, crossing one thing after another off with his help. It wasn't until you went to the bathroom to shower and get ready to run errands that you noticed something was different in his behavior.

"JACK!", you screeched when he busted into the bathroom as you were taking care of business. "What are you doing, baby?" You tried your best to cover yourself up, but he was unfazed. Jack moved across the room, settling on the rim of the tub with his phone in hand, scrolling through his texts. "What?", he looked up at you straight faced. You gestured wildly at your current position, pressing your legs together.

"Its nothing I haven't seen before", he said with a shrug. "Do you like these sneakers?" He showed you his phone screen.

"Jack! Its not about that. Can I have a little privacy, please?" You quickly got up from the toilet, moving to the shower and turning the water to the hottest setting. The steam billowed into the room as you stripped down.

"Oh good, I needed to shower anyway", Jack remarked, pulling his shirt over his head, his ab muscles flexing as he worked at his belt buckle. You placed a gentle hand on his bare chest, stopping him.

"Baby, I'm taking an everything shower. I think you'll just be in the way." You needed to shave, wash your hair, exfoliate your skin, and you knew it'd take at least 45 minutes, even without Jack stopping you multiple times in between to make out. You watched as his face dropped with disappointment, quickly backtracking. "I'm sorry, of course you can join me. Can you help me wash my hair?"

Jack immediately perked up, giving you a kiss to the temple. "Of course, whatever you need."

True to Jack's temperament, what was supposed to be your everything shower, quickly turned into an extra curricular activity that found both of you tired enough to head back to bed, both comfy in Jack's hoodie and sweatpants. When Jack woke an hour later to an empty bed, he gingerly got up to find you, spotting you on the couch with a book in your hand.

"Where'd you go?", he asked with more worry than he intended. You looked up from the pages of your novel with a smile. "You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you."

"Next time, wake me, okay?" His voice was calm but stern, which got your attention. You grunted as he laid his full body weight on top of you. "Baby, I-", you couldn't get out any more words as he tried his best to hide himself underneath your hoodie, his cheek resting against your stomach. You rubbed his back as he settled, knowing you needed to ask him if something was wrong, but not wanting to upset him. As you felt his breaths even, you broached the subject.

"Is something wrong, babe?"

"Nope", he mumbled against your skin, his beard rough across your skin.

"Are you sure? You seem clingier than usual." Jack pulled his head from underneath your sweatshirt. "I didn't know loving my girlfriend was such an inconvenience for you." You could tell he was offended by your questions.

"That's not what I mean, J." You grabbed at his chin, forcing him to look at you. "I love spending time with you, but usually we spend a little bit of time apart during the day. You do your thing, I do mind. I thought we both liked that."

"I do, I just-", he hesitated, "Nevermind. I'll give you some space." Jack pushed up from the couch, but you grabbed his hand before he could walk away. "Talk to me."

He let out a sigh, sitting back down, placing your legs over his lap. "I had a dream a couple nights ago, that you were just gone. It was like a nightmare for me, and the only thing I could think about was getting back to you and making sure you never left my sight."

You could feel a lump building in your throat as he spoke. "I don't know where you went or anything." He shook his head like he was trying to rid his mind of the thought. "I just know I never want to feel like that ever again." He ran a hand through his messy locks, looking at you with watery eyes.

You interlaced your fingers with his, running your thumb over his knuckles. "I'm not going anywhere, Jack. Not ever, okay?" He gave you a quiet nod, and a soft smile. "Okay."

You leaned back against the couch, motioning for him to join you. "C'mere, babe." Jack wasted no time falling into your arms, resting his head against your chest.

[transmascissues]

12 weeks post-top surgery thoughts

most importantly, i’m absolutely fucking in love with how things look! it’s still not set in stone yet, my surgeon said i won’t really see the final result until up to a year after, but I’m so happy with it already.

my surgeon’s default timeline would’ve had me starting scar tape at 4 weeks, but i still haven’t started yet because some little scabs are still hanging around even though most of my scars are completely healed. my surgeon didn’t seem concerned about it taking longer than expected, she just said everyone’s body is different. given that i have a connective tissue disorder and skin that just hates being messed with at all, i’m not surprised that it’s been slow going and i’m just happy that the rest is healing so well. i just had another post-op today and was cleared to start using scar tape because the scabbing is so minimal at this point, so i can finally move on to the next stage of healing.

i can (mostly) lift my arms now! they still can’t quite go all the way up, but i have enough of my mobility back that the only things i really struggle with are super high shelves like the ones above my fridge, and things like the washer and dryer that i have to reach really far to get into. technically, i was supposed to wait six months before raising them because that’s what my surgeon usually recommends for aesthetic purposes, but i have to be able to raise them to do my job anyway so i’m not limiting myself beyond the natural limits of discomfort at this point.

my chest muscles are mostly back to normal too, but they’re still very sensitive. when i flex them, it doesn’t hurt or feel uncomfortable but i am a lot more aware of the feeling than i was before. they also still tire out more easily than they used to — i’m back at work now, and i’ve learned the hard way that i tend to favor one arm over the other for certain tasks because when i do any of them for too long, i start to feel it in that side of my chest. it’s not anything too bad, but i’m still making sure my shifts are spread out because i don’t want to risk overdoing it.

i’m getting used to touching my own chest, but being touched by other people still feels super weird and honestly uncomfortable at times, particularly when it’s my bare chest and not over my shirt. i’ve been touching it a lot to try to desensitize it since around week 3 or 4, and it seems to be working as far as my own touch, but other people is a whole other story — when my boyfriend is touching my bare chest and their hand touches the scars, it doesn’t actually hurt but i react to it like it does. i suspect it’s more of a mental thing than anything, that since i’m still instinctively protective of it and not quite used to how it feels, touches that i’m not in control of just automatically set off alarm bells. it’s also just a generally foreign feeling even without the weirdness of healing because my boyfriend never really touched my chest before surgery since i was dysphoric about it, so it seems to require desensitization on multiple levels. i’ve given them permission to keep touching it even when i flinch (unless i explicitly ask them to stop) because i want to make sure i start getting used to the feeling.

i’m also still very sensitive to pressure against my chest, especially the front of it. it’s getting easier to lie down on my side now but i’m still using my body pillow to take some pressure off of the scars under my armpits, because if i don’t i usually can only stay in that position for a little while. my boyfriend can mostly lay their head on my chest for short periods of time now, but the position matters because if the weight isn’t distributed evenly enough or if it’s on the wrong part of my chest, it hurts. that being said, less intense pressure on the front like a hug or holding something to my chest is pretty much fine, i’m just still more sensitive to it (as with everything). i’ve been able to lay face down on top of my boyfriend a couple times without discomfort too, but i’m still erring on the side of caution and not laying on my chest too much yet.

when i was around a month in and thought i would be starting scar care soon, i was really nervous about it — particularly about the scar massage — because of the state my chest was in. i still didn’t feel like i could press on it or move the skin around or pick it up with my fingers at all, and the scar tissue underneath was still really thick and firm. i assumed that all of that would stay the same until i did the massages to break down the scar tissue and loosen things up, but i can now confirm after another month and a half of doing nothing while things healed, my skin is naturally a lot more mobile and a lot of that really thick scar tissue has already broken down. obviously i’m still going to start massaging now because i want to give myself the best possible chance of healing well, but i wish i had known how much my chest would be able to bounce back on its own. in hindsight, i’m glad i ended up having to wait to start the massage instead of doing it back when my chest was much less healed, because i’m much more comfortable manipulating it now.

every once in a while, i’ll get sharp pains in my chest. they aren’t horribly painful, mostly just unpleasant. they feel a lot like the nerve zaps i was getting earlier in recovery so it might be another round of nerves reconnecting, but it also happens more often when i’m working so it’s hard to say if it’s nerves or over-exertion. either way, i always make sure to take it easy when i start to feel that, just in case it is a sign of me doing too much.

i typically almost never eat meat, but i chose to reintroduce it into my diet after surgery to get more protein, because i wanted to make sure my body had everything it needs to heal and protein is a huge part of that. now that i’m pretty much all healed skin-wise and just waiting for everything to settle, i’ve decided it’s time to go back to my usual diet of not-fully-vegetarian-but-pretty-damn-close. i’m sure the diet change wasn’t strictly necessary but i don’t regret doing it, though i am glad to be switching back now.

putting on shirts still hasn’t gotten old. seeing how they look over a flat chest honestly feels surreal, but in the best way. hugging people and being able to press all the way into it js also still such a great feeling. i’m far enough in now that i can do all of that stuff without worrying about it, but still early enough that it all feels really new and special, and i’ve been thoroughly enjoying that.

wearing a more genderfucky outfit out in public for the first time post-op was a fucking blast. my boyfriend and i went to a new year’s eve party, and getting to show off my chest through a sheer lace top and my facial hair alongside makeup was so much fun. it was the first time i’ve been able to go all out without the lingering feeling in the back of my mind that dressing up means inevitably being seen as a woman. i definitely didn’t look like a cis man to any of the people who saw me, but they could clearly tell i wasn’t a cis woman at the very least, and knowing that made me so much more confident.

i’m far enough away now from being in the trenches of early recovery that the reality of the fact that i got such a big surgery has started to fade. when i really think about the fact that my body went through all of that and about how hard early recovery was, it doesn’t quite feel real anymore. i’m starting to reach the point one of my friends told me about, where my chest being like this feels so normal that it’s just like “yeah, of course, it’s always been like this, right?” it’s wild, really, the difference a couple months can make — it wasn’t that long ago that i was exhausted and arguably depressed from the early recovery process, and now it all feels so normal that i have to remind myself it took all of that to get here. i never really doubted that it would be worth it in the end, but i’m still more sure of that now than i ever have been.

the last couple months have been a long road, but somehow they’ve also flown by. it’s given me so much appreciation for my body — its potential to transform and what it’s been able to withstand. i wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

[chaoticautie]

Autistic culture is loathing automatic public toilets and/or automatic hand dryers with your entire being

[exhaslo]

Corruption Ch14

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thirty Days until D-Day

The city was welcomed with a heavy rain storm that had no end in sight. Umbrellas were no match against the fierce winds and downpour that befell the city. The poor citizens who dared to walk got drenched. It was the beginning of an already dreadful day to many.

Aaron groaned and cussed as he scurried into Alchemax, water dripping from every angle. He sighed in relief as a few of the staff members set up automatic heaters and dryers for the employees. Sometimes there were perks for working for Alchemax.

The company cared more about reputation.

Once he was dry, Aaron made sure to clock in. There, he waited for certain people. Once said people arrived, they all casually walked with each other to the elevator. As they all stood in the elevator, each person handed something small to Aaron.

"Thank you all." He whispered upon leaving with another worker.

"This is risky. Do you even know how to do it?" His coworker asked. Aaron frowned as he spotted you grabbing a file from his boss,

"I'll need to work out the details, but I have an idea." He said before smiling towards you, "(Y/N)! How have you been? Feels like forever,"

"Ah, Aaron, yes it has! Have you been busy?" You asked. Aaron couldn't stop smiling,

"You could say so. A lot of newbies trying to play games on computers has us getting rid of viruses." He said with a chuckle and glanced at the file, "What about you?"

"End of month is tomorrow. Just grabbing all of the paperwork from each department so I can file them all. So...exciting." You said with a soft sigh, "Ah! Speaking of time, I have to grab Miguel's coffee!"

"Be careful, it's pouring outside."

Aaron waved towards you as you ran off in a hurry. You were still ever so kind despite Miguel's interference.

"Still going for the boss' girl? Everyone knows that Miguel probably uses her as a stress relief." Aaron's coworker scoffed, "Ain't no way he would let anyone get that close."

"C'mon. She's his assistant. Miguel's too cold hearted to-"

"Use (Y/N)? How many times did he butt in to your flirting? To you trying to ask her out?"

"Shut up, let's just get back to work. Miguel will have what's coming to him eventually."

---------

You were shivering as you cuddled against Miguel's chest. You were in your underwear, wrapping in a thick blanket as you sat on Miguel's lap in his office. Your clothes were drying in the corner, since Miguel demanded you come up to him in a hurry.

"I told you the coffee could wait," Miguel grumbled as you sneezed.

"Y-You're grumpy...w-without it,"

"At the cost of you getting sick? It can wait. I can always send someone else to get it." Miguel said with a scoff, his arm tightening around your waist, "And you didn't even dry off downstairs."

"Y-You told me to hurry! So I climbed the window," You said with a whine, "Can't...Can't I just wear my spare clothes? This is...embarrassing."

"I've seen you naked already." Miguel said unamused then glanced towards you, "Or did the oh so powerful Spider-Woman want to get sick? To have me care for her?"

"N-No," You said with a pout.

Miguel was so mean when he wanted to be. Watching him chuckle made your heart melt. He can be as mean as he wants, just as long as you get to see him enjoy himself. Cuddling back into his chest, you inhaled, enjoying his cologne.

---------

Miguel waited for you to fall asleep before pulling up his security footage of one of the labs. Miguel had a small team of scientists handling your blood injections towards test subjects. As much as Miguel wished to be there in person, he needed to keep distracting you from the city.

Besides, none of those scientists knew what they were giving to the new test subjects. None of them would live to even tell the tale of Miguel's success.

"Sir, now conducting test subject number eight." One of the scientists spoke to the camera.

Eight.

It took eight attempts so far. There was always something wrong with something. Miguel was getting frustrated, but he had to keep going. This was the only way he could get what he wanted. This was the only way to get his dream.

"Mhpm," You whimpered in your sleep.

Pulling up his calendar, Miguel checked on your ovulation. With a roll of his eyes, Miguel noticed that you were about to start your period. It was right about now that your cramps would start to kick in. As frustrating as it was, this was needed.

By your next ovulation, Miguel will be perfect.

He will finally be able to give you what you've been waiting for.

What he's been waiting for.

But, in the meantime, Miguel had work to do. Ordering some heat pads and chocolate, Miguel made sure to take care of you during your period. You were his perfect trophy. Miguel couldn't have you down in the dumps.

----------

Twenty Days Until D-Day

Yet again, the rain did not let up. According to the forecast, it was to rain like this for the rest of the week. You were debating on swinging to work, but with this rain...no. You didn't want to end up sick. Miguel would never let you go out again.

"Hm, I need to get to work." You whispered, looking at the time.

Rubbing your arms, you let out a whine as you tried to think. Normally, Miguel would give you a ride, but today he had to arrive to work earlier than normal. Apparently his father had some meetings he wanted Miguel to go too.

"Would Miguel mind if I stay home?"

"He would," Lyla appeared, "Miguel is already showing signs of extreme stress and frustration. Without you, I can conclude that by noon, he might kill someone."

"Oh, Lyla, you jest." You chuckled lowly before stopping, "Miguel won't kill anyone."

But you knew how Miguel got when he was angry. Miguel was never too fond of his own father, especially when dragged to these meetings. Honestly, it was cute. Miguel was like a spoiled child, not wanting to do work.

Leaving your apartment, you sighed as you still wondered how you were going to get to work without getting soaked. It was still Fall in Nueva York, but it felt like winter already to you. Oh, the downside of having Spider DNA.

"Hey, (Y/N)! Need a ride?" Aaron asked, stopping his cab. You gasped, hurrying over,

"Oh! Thank you, Aaron, you're a life savor!"

"Sure," Aaron smiled as he opened the door for you. You shivered slightly when entering, thanking him again, "It's really no problem. Luck even, guess I just happen to pass your place at the right time."

"You sure did."

You hummed happily as you texted Miguel, asking if he wanted his morning coffee. As you were waiting for his reply, you glanced over at Aaron,

"So, it's been...raining a lot. Might be a colder winter than normal."

"So we have to make sure your office is a furnace." He said with a chuckle, "Getting coffee for our dictator today?"

"Ah-" You felt your cheeks flush as you just checked your phone, "Guess not. He won't let me get it when it rains like this. Hehe, Miguel does have his little soft side," You chirped.

Aaron felt his eye twitch, "It's amazing how you can still see the best in him."

"It could be because I'm his assistant?" You tried to dodge the question since no one knew about your relationship with Miguel, "Um, I think everyone just needs to give Miguel a chance. I'm sure-"

"I rather not. If he makes me his errand boy anymore, I might quit." Aaron huffed then glanced at you, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt or be sour. We've....just been up to our necks with work."

"It's okay,"

You lowered your head, remaining silent for the rest of the ride. It was hard to express your vision of Miguel to others. Once you arrived, you thanked Aaron again for the lift and hurried inside.

--------

Aaron paid the fair and slowly made his way inside. He watched you from a distance, paying attention to your watch as Lyla appeared. Miguel was always listening to you. He always paid attention to who you were with.

A controlling bastard.

Aaron just smiled as he went to clock in, hoping that Miguel will play the petty game. The only problem about this game Aaron was playing was you getting caught in the fire. Aaron was going to have to make sure you were nowhere near Miguel when he acts.

--------

You stood in front of Miguel's large office window, staring down at the city below. Miguel was still in his meetings, sending you a text here and there about stupid little things. It made you chuckle at some of the nitpicking he was doing.

"Hehe, ew. Miguel must really be bored if he is paying attention to the food stuck in someone's teeth," You giggle.

Glancing at his seat, you bit your lower lip. Miguel was going to be a while until he returned. Stroking your fingers against the arm rest, you let out a soft sigh as you took your seat on his desk. Miguel will be waiting for you.

You had to be a good girl and take your spot.

"Don't keep me waiting too long, Miggy~"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @safixiovi @migueloharacumslut @straw-berry-ghoul @daisy-artfield @sukunash0e @undf-stuff @iamperson12280 @nightingale1011 @reader-1290 @mcmiracles @keepghostly @marlyharper @jadeloverxd @daddyfroglegs @shoukanjo

[kiwanopie]

“What does it look like to see crime lord!kiyoomi blow up at someone threatening the reader?”

cw: mention of bathroom (reader has to number one lmao), character death, death by suffocation

wc: 2.4k

His head immediately turns when he hears your voice calling out for him.

You’re breathtaking in your ball attire. Glowing under the balmy haze of ballroom crystal lights as you duck into his gaze. You’re radiant, and It’s a chore to look anywhere else as Kiyoomi scans the large hall, leaning in to get a better listen at your voice. “What’s up, angel?”

“Can you come with me to the bathroom?” You whisper. “I’m too nervous to go by myself.”

Kiyoomi pauses to delegate a pensive moment. He was supposed to mingle with OneSource’s people to check in on his annual contract bonding. ‘Course there’s no reason to think that anything has changed - they’d have a death wish to pull out from something like Sakusa Enterprises - but it’s etiquette, and it’s still important to maintain general communication. At the very least uphold his reputation as a studious businessman.

He traces the fullness of your eyelashes from where you look up at him. “Mhm.”

Kiyoomi reaches for your hand and leads you to the laboratory.

He’s not the least bit embarrassed to be leading his wife into the otherwise empty women’s bathroom. And even if it weren’t, he doubts he’d be any less unfazed. - Impassive still as he watches you glide your way into the cleanest stall and close the door behind you. Kiyoomi leans against the sink as he waits for you to finish your business.

“Can you turn the sink on? I don’t want you to hear me tinkle.”

“Tinkle?” Kiyoomi snorts as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Baby, I hear you tinkle every day in our bathroom. Just let it out.”

“Yeah, but this is a public place,” He can hear you pout. “And I’m already nervous. I don’t want you to make fun of me for spotting.”

Spotting. He quietly titters again. I mean, he’s brushed his teeth with you planted on the bowl before, a little piss staggering wouldn’t even faze him. But still he grabs a paper towel, and uses it to turn the nodule on one of the sinks.

“Thank you!” The better portion of your dress lifts over your heels.

It’s only a few moments that it takes till he’s hearing the telltale sound of an automatic toilet whir into the room. Even with his eyes planted on his phone, he sees you neaten your dress back down in his peripheral. Dark blues turn velvety in the bathroom lights, and pretty spaghetti straps fall loosely on your shoulders; and with the way your hair so lively shines as you walk, he’s nearly convinced that you’re an angel.

His eyes light up with familiar adoration as you approach him at the sink, the smile you pass him is enough to turn his cheeks flowery. “How long is this party gonna last for?”

“Till two, but we can leave earlier than that if you want.”

“Are you having fun?” The soap in your palms audibly squishes as you lather your hands.

Kiyoomi sighs through his nose. “I’m making good connections, but you know me. Huge crowds like these start to break me out in hives. The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

You ring your hands in the sink. “That makes you and I both then. There’s so many important people here that I can’t help but worry. I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt just cause some bastard has a vendetta.”

You move for the air dryer on the side of him. “I saw Onslaught and Shinobu wandering the halls together. Those two dudes make it desperately apparent that they despise us.”

“They’re attention seekers, angel. They - No, don’t use that.”

You look at him curiously as he moves you by the arm to the paper towel dispenser. “Those things are disgusting, they’re riddled with germs.”

He snatches a few out for you. “I doubt anyone here has ever bothered to disinfect these.”

You simper as you finally wipe your hands down. “Oh. Well, thank you for looking out for me, baby.”

“Always.”

Kiyoomi slides his phone in his pocket as you move for the mirror again. “They’re attention seekers,” He starts again. “They know what my status is, they know that you and I are the most prevalent family running the underground business nowadays. Anybody who’s anybody should know that the Sakusa’s have owned the better half of Asia for decades. - It’s easy for them to stay relevant when they’re feuding with the most powerful empire in the game; regardless of what risk they’re putting on their lives by doing that.”

You eye yourself in the mirror. “They’re cockroaches. They’re just feeding off us for a little bit of business talk. What will it take for them to understand that business doesn’t even exist if it doesn’t come from you in some way.”

The little boost to his ego already turns him pink, but the way you spin in the mirror has his lips curling over his teeth. “Yeah? You’re absolutely right.”

His reflection mirrors the way he reaches out for you, pulling you closer in his direction, and softly pinching your cheeks with his calloused fingers. “But it’s nothing you’ve gotta worry your pretty head about, huh? - You’re really cute..”

You pout up at him. “What if they pick a fight with us?”

Kiyoomi kisses his teeth. Uncoupling the little grip he has on your cheek to smooth it over with his thumb, and let his blithe gaze settle on the dip in your lips. “As if they’d be so stupid. Self preservation reigns, angel. They all know better.”

You give him somewhat of an unimpressed look. “Death isn’t the price you pay for slighting us, Omi.”

“You’re right,” He hums. “It’s the price they pay for slighting you.”

You lean into the kiss Kiyoomi presses gingerly onto your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Omi.”

“So much.”

“Show me.”

He leans in for another one. A little firmer, somewhat tailed by a quiet hum but the way you move forward to deepen it has him openly sighing into your mouth. Long, savory, tender lip smacking. - Smoothing his grip under your jaw till you’re all but making out like a couple of teenagers. That’s how you make him feel - like a teenager. Jittery and palm sweaty. Meekend as you moan into the kiss and he’s rapt by butterflies. Breathless when you part from him and still overdosing on that contact high.

God, “I love you so fucking much.” He sighs.

“I love you so much more.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t think something like that could be remotely possible.

_____

Kiyoomi pushes your seat in for you as you both take your spots at the grand table.

There are many very important faces here. From the face of your renowned husband, to well known yakuza leaders, - High ranking members of The Sinaloa Cartel, Solntsevskaya Bratva, Sun Yee On, and so forth. With this many dangerous people at one table, most controlling near global power, it isn’t unheard of to feel a little out of your wits. You can’t show your fear as much as you want to, sitting at this table with your husband means sharing the collective power he has - and representing it as well. Much like the other wives and spouses sitting with their respective criminal lovers, you keep your cool with a natural grace. Still pretty even as your palms start to sweat.

Ken Shōhei, leader of the sixth generation yellow fangs, raises his glass to propose a toast. He glitters with shined jewels and gaudy rings as they reflect in the chandelier light. You glance at his wife before glancing at him. Catching a less than friendly evil eye that chills you straight to the blue bone. If you had to guess, they’re friends of Onslaught. If you had to guess again, you’d say it’s probably upsetting to realize you’re not the hottest foreign wife in the room anymore.

“Beautiful people of this nation - of your respective nations,” He begins. “Let us take this moment to reflect on the novelty of such business making and our untaintable honor. To the choices we’ve made thus far that has led us here. The chances we take that - understandably shouldn’t work out in our favor - but has. Our fortune, our hard work, the allies we’ve made today and the friends we’ll make tomorrow. I propose a toast to us. To our virtues, and to our decency. Let us all come together and celebrate ourselves.”

His wife smiles as she picks up her glass. “To ourselves!”

The rest of the table brandish their cups and follow suit. “To ourselves!”

The chatter continues as most of them take a quick sip to their glasses.

Or well, all except for you and Kiyoomi, who’s got the flute halfway to his lips before you stop him in his tracks. “Wait, baby.”

“Hm?”

You lean in to whisper softly. “These glasses don’t smell clean.”

“Hm?” Kiyoomi furrows as he dips his nose in his champagne flute. “They don’t-? Oh. Ew.”

He reaches for your glass. “Don’t even touch that. We’ll sanitize our hands after they-“

Someone’s choking.

Someone’s hacking and gasping for air right in front of you. Loud enough to startle as your head whips in the direction of whoever it is coughing up a lung across the table, and Kiyoomi instinctively reaches for you - pulling you by the bicep as he prepares to step out of his seat.

It’s an appropriate knee jerk reaction for what actually unfolds in front of you. Kiyoomi forces you to your feet as Shōhei’s body crashes into the fine cloth of the grand table and sends the majority of their plates crashing down with him. His shrill wheezing cuts into the silence that befalls the group of leaders as they stare down at him. Twitching and flailing before finally seizing up and you all watch in horror as he eventually goes limp.

You all watch in dread as his wife follows. Nithya, Maciej, Jalmari, Takashi, and Yuina, dropping to the floor in similar fashion. Some fall back in their seats in an effort to save themselves, some face plant into their plates before unceremoniously hitting the ground, but they all meet the same fate. Foaming at the mouth and blue from asphyxiation, all poisoned by something lethal likely slipped into their drinks.

Kiyoomi is the first to break the long stunned silence, calling over one of his underlings to meet him at the table.

He shoves his drink in his face. “Drink this.”

The man does so without hesitation.

After a few long moments the faceless scout looks generally unharmed which immediately raises red flags, but it isn’t over yet.

He hands him his wife’s drink. “And this?”

Another sip, another few long moments.

And then he’s falling to the ground.

You both stare in sickened shock as he flails on the ground just as the other victims did. Gasping for air as his spit foams over and the vessels in his eyes burst from suffocation. He’s dead within a few tortuous minutes, and Kiyoomi all but turns blue.

He nearly breaks his back with how quickly he turns for you, already frantically cupping your face in his hands. “Did you eat anything on the table? Have you eaten anything?”

There are tears in your eyes, rightfully. “N-No.”

He’s shaking. It’s a rare moment of weakness for the revered kingpin. One of the most frightening, if not the most frightening man in all of Asia - glassy eyed at the realization of his lover coming so close to death. He’s pink under eyes, pupils twitching back and forth as he frantically scans your face for any sign of change. The men and women surrounding the two of you take pause. It’s clear this is a shock to you both. That the man in question would rather kill over than put his wife in harm’s way, especially one so gruesome. ~ But there’s layers to this collective suspension shared among the room. Shock, confusion, apprehensity.

Fear.

As expected Kiyoomi’s reaction is less than pleased.

“Miya!”

At the sound of Kiyoomi’s booming voice, Atsumu races into the ballroom and up to the table. “Boss- Whoa, holy shit.”

“Bring me the heads of everyone in the kitchen,” His voice is vitriolic. It sends shivers up the spines of every living body in here. “All except for the chef. Pack him up in the shuttle.”

The boldness of the demand knocks Shinobu out of his daze, he’s kissing his teeth not even a moment later. “Don’t just start giving orders like you-“

“Shut the fuck up, Shinobu. Be thankful I don’t start picking from the table!”

One of the other businessmen at the table speaks meekly. “W-Wait. Let’s just... Everyone just-“

“Enough!” Kiyoomi narrows his eyes. And even to the most lethal of men in the room do they quaver at the venom in his voice. Sakusa Kiyoomi is not known for being an angry man. A spiteful man, sure. Cold and callous and cruel, on his worst days a little psychotic. There’s a scowl on his face more often than not, a sneer almost in the way he speaks to his adversaries and enemies alike. He’s known for being a mean son of a bitch - the meanest, really. But not angry. Not down right irate. Not so wrathful in the way he addresses the crowd around him.

“Someone here,” He breathes. “Has made an enormous lapse in judgment. If not to the leaders we just lost at this table; than to threaten me - to threaten my wife, my family,”

He’s firm yet earnest in his efforts to keep you behind him, nearly yanking you back by your arm but you bump into his firm back with one of his hands fastened over your waist. “You must’ve all forgotten that there is no one on this earth who I can’t get my hands on - especially for something so despicable. Whether they're in that kitchen or in this room, every second of their worthless life is borrowed from me. - Goro!”

The host of the ball swallows as he answers quickly. “Yes, Sakusa-san, sir?”

“Get me the names of everyone who’s been in or out of this place within the last forty eight hours, not a minute short.”

“Yes, of course.”

Kiyoomi nods his head for his men to follow as he drags his wife out by the hand.

[iced-bees]

how it feels to use an automatic hand dryer

[harryforvogue]

Harry sets the hair dryer down on the table beside Yasmine’s shoulder. Her eyes blink open to glance at him curiously through the mirror, hand already reaching for the dryer to take over. “Got tired?”

He shakes his head, staring back at her reflection with a pensive look.

It was his idea to dry her hair for her since her arms were sore from yesterday's therapy. Despite taking a hot bath immediately after to soothe her muscles, the ache had made it tough this morning. They’d showered together, Harry’s gentle fingers massaging the shampoo into her scalp, gliding the conditioner down her ends, and his palms carefully smearing over her eyes to remove any suds from her face. He’d held her jaw in his hands and bent down to kiss her softly, thumbs rubbing over her wet cheeks. 

He’d usually be handsy in the shower, but this time he only held her and kissed her face, eyes never straying from hers. It unnerved her for him to be so silent, but it also excited her to have all his attention.

“What is it?” she asks him, because a silent Harry is something to be worried about.

Harry almost smiles at the immediate frown on her face. It’s a default expression for her, and oh how he loves it. “What do you think about marriage?”

Yasmine freezes. The frown disappears, but it’s now replaced by apprehension.

“Marriage,” she repeats.

“Mhmm.” He runs his thumb over the back of her neck. She shivers.

“It’s. Well, it’s marriage.”

“Astute, my love.”

“It’s legally binding.”

“That it is.”

“Webster Dictionary defines it as–”

“Yasmine,” Harry says quietly, but firmly. “First thought that comes into your head. Go. Marriage.”

She blinks and automatically replies, “Harry.” And then she has the audacity to look concerned with her own answer. “Oh.”

He smiles fully then, whirling her around so she can see his face. She looks up at him quizzically, but lets him push her hair back over her shoulders. Instead of kissing her, he hugs her to his torso, pressing her face into his stomach. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she says, muffled against his shirt. 

“Just wanted to see something.”

He squeezes her tightly, hard enough to make her wince, but not hard enough to make her cry out. He smooths his hands down her back then, and then releases her, reaching for the dryer again.

“Whoa,” Yasmine says, placing her hand on his to stop him. “Listen, I’m not a very big romantic person, but there’s no way I’m going to allow you to propose to me while you’re drying my hair!”

Harry ponders over this for a minute. “Would it help if I got on one knee?” And then he does so, bringing the dryer along with him.

“Harry!” She puts her hands on each shoulder, scooting closer to him. The wild look in her eyes is still there, but it’s now mixed with…delight?

He shakes his head. “Yasmine, you have no faith in me. Why would I propose to you like this?”

“I don’t know! Why are you asking me about marriage?”

He gives her a pointed look. “We’ve been dating for over a year, not to mention you made me wait throughout grad school for you to come around. I hope you know that I’m fully committed to you and would like a life with you. You are mine. This is it for me.”

Yasmine feels her face flush, swallowing hard. Her heart hammers in her chest and the entire world melts away. It’s just her and this ridiculous gem of a man. “I thought that was a given. And unspoken.”

“It was. But now I’m saying it out loud so you know. Because I know things get lost between us sometimes, but I need to be clear now.”

Oh.

“I started dating you knowing you were the last woman I’d be with. I will do many, many things to ensure that. I will let you win as many fights as you want, put up with your worst habits if the need be. And I need to know if we’re on the same page about this.”

Something inside her squeezes. He looks so serious, eyes unwavering, jaw set, that it makes her shiver again. He’s rarely ever this intense about anything. His hand strays from the dryer, taking one of her hands instead, pressing her open palm to his heart.

“Of course,” Yasmine blurts. She grabs his shirt, tugging him a little closer. “We’re on the same page about that. You can’t get rid of me now.”

Harry nods once. “Good.” He then kisses the top of her head and then stands, her hand falling away when he reaches his full height. He manually turns back around and parts her hair once more, ready to dry it again.

“Harry,” she says before she gets drowned out.

“Hm?”

“I don’t have high expectations about a proposal. I need to clarify that.”

He finally smiles, his eyes clearing. He kisses her head again, more firmly, and then sighs against her. “It’s been years and you still think so little about my wooing skills.”

“I’m just saying. It doesn't have to be big.”

“I know, baby.”

The pet name makes her inwardly soar. “But just not while drying my hair.”

“It would make me happy,” he admits softly. “To propose while taking care of you. Something I consider my only purpose.”

“I mean it.” She tries to sound strict, her breath catching at the confession. She fails completely.

“I know,” he says again, and then hugs her tightly. “I know.”

[dolphyaustralia]

A Comprehensive Guide to Hand Dryers: Types, Features, and Benefits

Hand dryers are electric appliances that are used to dry hands after they have been washed. Most hand dryers are made up of an apparatus with a downward-facing vent into which wet hands are inserted. Some newer hands-in dryers feature an opening through which hands can be inserted to dry from both sides.

Why use the best hand dryers?

After people have washed their hands, the next step is to clean them. The drying process, on the other hand, is determined by the type of hand dryer. You have a decent dryer to quickly dry your fingers. Hand dryers not only remove mud and dust from your palms, but they also remove some microorganisms from your body.

Hand dryers in a variety of designs and styles are reasonably priced. As a result, selecting the best one can be difficult. We've been filming and researching hand dryers for several hours. We compiled a list of the top ten commercial electric hand dryers on the market today.

To choose the best hand dryer for your bathroom or lavatory, you should understand a few simple criteria. The best hand dryers are typically available in a wide range of sizes, styles, and qualities. There is also a large selection of traditional hand dryers. As a result, selecting the proper hand dryer is critical.

Nobody wants to pay their money. However, dryers are a useful restroom feature. However, you should go for the simplest to get the most out of the best hand dryers.

Because hand dryers are becoming increasingly popular, there are numerous manual dryers available from various brands. The correct one is also perplexing among those options. That is why I write some notes before constructing the acquisition. Take your time reading!

Hand Dryers with a Push Button;- If you want to use a conventional, traditional hand dryer, keep in mind that you must press a button to activate this device. These are less expensive but take longer to complete the task.

Best Automatic Hand Dryers;- A high-speed manual dryer takes 10 to 15 seconds to dry hands. We have a lot of energy and are environmentally friendly. However, if you choose these types, you will have to spend a little more money. Eventually, with the help of the key, a new mechanical hand dryer was created. Simply place your hand under the dryer, and it will begin immediately.

Speed;- The perfect hand dryer's performance should be very fast. Customers are typically unable to clean their hands in 45 seconds. As an alternative, you could end up with a huge mess in the toilets. It's worthwhile to invest in a fast dryer. This could be very useful for you.

Level of noise;- All air-blowing machines, in general, make noise. Choose a quiet dryer if you intend to install it in a noisy location. However, models with variable noise control motors are available.

Durability and reliability;- You are not required to invest your money in a product that is no longer functional. If you buy a hand dryer, you should consider the type of finish you want and how long it will last.

Cost and Budget;- The budget is an important consideration in the purchasing process. The price of the dryer is determined by the type of product. Commodities with basic features are less expensive than those with additional features.

You may have to pay more if you want a product with a great feel, high performance, and power efficiency. Nonetheless, we recommend that you invest in one high-quality, long-lasting product rather than replacing parts for a low-cost hand dryer.

India's largest hotel product supplier and supplier Dolphy's hand dryer is an excellent product for keeping your hands dry and safe. Automatic hand dryers are ideal for quickly and easily drying your hands. Jet Hand Dryers are suitable for use in bathrooms, hotels, toilet accessories, shopping malls, and public restrooms. Originally Published at:

[dollysharma]

Automatic Hand Dryer

Automatic hand dryer are electrically powered machines designed to dry your hands quickly and efficiently after being washed. They are commonly found in public bathrooms. A hand dryer works by using warm air and a motion sensor that detects when you place your hand underneath it. The sensor then releases a strong stream of air to dry your hands. There are several benefits to automatic hand dryer compared to paper towels.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

The Avisos uniform really makes me want to jerk one of the boys off over their clothes and make them cum in their pants. Like their dicks are RIGHT. THERE how am I supposed to not imagine how much more defined they’d be hard and covered in a massive wet patch

(Ref to this!)

Sammee! But first

This is the first time I’ve actually had to think ‘yeah, guys to have to awkwardly position their dick in clothes, and it can show in clothes’ until this game came around I’ve never seen guys wearing no underwear and skintight clothes.

-

Like it’s hot and like, with the sizes of them and how they are positioned it almost looks like they are either hard or are just rocking semis which given how hell is, is probably normal

So it’s so hot!! To just reach of, then touch them, twisting, rubbing, pinching, stroking and pumping their cock while they are still clothed, it’s almost like a punishment teasing their cock while it basically is left with just a think later if fabric stopping some of the stimulation, but leaving them flustered while their dick leaks and the wet patch forms.

It leaves his cock defined and leaves him feeling like he’s naked, he can feel the cold air on his cock, you and anyone who looks can his cock is stiff and you can even watch it struggle to twitch!

You rub them over their clothes until they cum, he is left trembling as he cums, you can see the patch getting darker and darker, almost looking like he just peed himself.

Then making them walk around and help you pick up supplies while he is half hard and still leaking cum from his cock, it visibly twitches, and instead of letting him get changed to save him the humiliation, you get something like a napkin and use it to ‘rub’ him dry as you try to ‘help’ with the stain. (You even offer to let him use an automatic hand dryer in one of the public bathrooms. You forget the heat would turn him on further so he’s left dry, but with an obvious stain and erection)

Everyone can see he’s hard and no one bothers either of you, thinking of it as entertaining.

[fatuismooches]

Good day! Life is the definition of stress for me lately, so i turn to Dottie x Fragile!Reader for comfort once more. I hereby present you: bathtime!

Just before i begin - NO NSFW! Only wholesomeness! Horny will automatically have their names added to test subjects volunteers list!

Reader's mysterious sickness got worse over time. Fragile body forced them staying in bed and prevented them from completing even the simplest mundane activities, such as eating or showering. But it's no fun staying in sweaty bed, is it? So, while segments are busy changing sheets, Zandik brings his beloved to bathroom.

Let's address the obvious - reader would get extra shy. It's not the first time Zandik sees them naked, taking all physical health exams into consideration. However, man is more than willing to look away and wait - he will avoid looking at the Reader if that's what they want.

Bath time feels like luxurious spa complex. Scented bath bombs? Check. Bath bubbles? Check. Soothing music playing in the background? Check. Shoulders massage? Check. Hair-washing? Check.

Speaking of the latter, Zandik's long, slim fingers rubbing shampoo into reader's hair brings them euphoria. He's so gentle with every movement, careful not to get any bubbles into his dear's eyes. Zandik also uses shampoo of his own making (perks of being the all-knowing scientist!). If Reader's hair was greasy and messy before, once the bathtime is over, you bet their locks are smooth to the touch and extra soft.

Man would make sure the Reader has been fully dried off. He'll also personally dry their hair with hair dryer (...does Teyvat have hair dryers? Idk. Assume it's something similar then.), so they don't catch cold that could further worsed their condition! Once the spa procedures are done, Zandik will have reader dressed in fresh pyjamas and wrapped in a bathrobe, cuddled in his arms - he will then carry them bride-style back to bedroom where a bed with fresh sheets and a segment with a mug of hot chocolate was waiting for them.

Cuddles and kisses afterwards are a major part of whole bathtime procedure! Must not be skipped!

BATH TIME WITH DOTTORE. <3 Your illness frequently rendered you unable to do even the simplest of activities, most importantly the basics of living. Or perhaps your mental state was not the best and you could not bring yourself or find the energy to take care of yourself. But at least you have your lovers with you to do that when you can't yourself.

No matter how many times your husband sees you nude you still get a bit anxious about it, you know he loves you. But you still can't help but look in the mirror and wonder if he notices even more imperfections than you, after all, his eyes are very observant. However every time, he patiently holds and reassures you in his own Dottore-like very, despite how many times you two have done this same routine, he doesn't seem annoyed. You're thankful.

Dottore had honestly never used or cared for such extraneous products in the bath, he never saw the point of them. He always got in and out of the shower, he never exactly relaxed in it. It was only until you started using fancy stuff like that and forcing him into it that he started to warm up to the idea of bath time also being relaxing time (something both of you really need.) And he can easily see that this is something you need right now. However, he is clueless by himself so he probably found himself at the mercy of the Damslette and Regrator much to his dismay... but, it's for you, so he can endure...

Dottore's hands are very skilled, certain areas of his work require great control over them to avoid any mistakes, so it's not surprising in itself for them to be gentle and delicate. However, what is surprising is for that gentleness to be used on another person. It wasn't easy for him at first either, he loves you but being gentle doesn't come easily or naturally for him. But he still does try and it seems that eventually, you get so lost in the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp that you don't notice if he messes up. I imagine you'd try to return the favor too if you have the strength. Unfortunately, it gets into his eyes but he has zero reaction to it for your sake.

After the bath, you would feel so warm and fuzzy from how good it felt, but most importantly you felt that Zandik cared, which was always very important for you. Sure, he wasn't the world's most perfect lover, but you didn't care about that. All that mattered was that he tried, and that he loved you. (He invented Teyvat's first and only hair dryer. End of story.) You'd nearly fall asleep as he dries your hair, barely hanging on by the time he dresses you in something warm. But you can't fall asleep now! You have to stay awake and treasure this moment with him! It's not often opportunities like this arise with your Zandik! And you have to be awake to feel all the kisses you'll get!

(His cup of hot chocolate definitely has a little too much marshmallows in it...)

[suggs444]

Snitch: Mark Hoffman x gnReader.

Synopsis: You’re Mark Hoffman’s partner in work. He’s a closed book. Till you find out his darkest secret. You abide by the law, and seek to confront him. but the one problem? You and the detective have romantic tension. He’s your crush.

TW: swearing, degrading, sexual tension (???), manipulation, guns, kissing & hair pulling.

Gif by evilvvithin

…

You and Peter Strahm had been good friends. Distant but, there was trust. So much trust that he mailed you something before he disappeared. Everyone said he was the accomplice. But the package he left you? Well, it implied otherwise.

It was full of old newspapers, articles and police records. And it all pointed to one man. The last man you expected. Your work partner,

“Hoffman.” You muttered to yourself, slamming the folders shut, only praying this was wrong. Hoping that strahm’s lead on the case was nothing more than a delusion. Your feelings for Mark didn’t help this. It only fed the dread as your stomach stirs.

You and Mark had been assigned as partners for many years. And in those years had you not once let your feelings get in the way. You were professional. So was he. Almost too professional. A very closed man. Sharp, and clever.

Too clever.

You gulp, reluctantly reopening the files Strahm sent you.

“Boyfriend kills Detectives sister.”

You read, finger tips brushing the old article. Your head buzzing, thinking - till your eyes snap upward. Everything clicked. It made sense. But how could you guarantee it? Maybe Strahm was chasing a delusional. Or maybe he wasn’t, and your feelings for Mark were automatically defending him.

Your head throbs. You wince, and slam the folders shut, huffing.

This was ridiculous.

You slide the folders into your draw, intent on forgetting them.

Tomorrow was another day.

…

You hadn’t forgot Strahm’s folders like you had hoped. In fact, it’s all you could think about. Even now, at your work desk as you stare at the wall. So focused that you completely drowned out the sound of the office. It was busy today. Phone lines ringing, typing, chatter and the terrible hum over the overhead lights blaring down on you.

You thought about Seth Baxter. What the odds were of John Kramer targeting him of all people. You decided it was slim. It didn’t make sense.

“Look alive, y/n.”

You’re pulled from your thoughts instantly, head whirling to Mark, who stood over your desk. A hot coffee in his hand.

“You looked like you needed this.” He says.

Your throat runs dry.

Mark raises his brow at you. You can only stare at him. A sense of worry raising the hairs on your neck.

You couldn’t deny Strahm’s theory.

Mark pulls a face at your silence,

“Okay.” He says to himself, putting your coffee on your desk. You look at it, forcing yourself to snap out of it and offer a weary smile.

“Sorry,” You begin, faking a breathy laugh.

“Long night.”

“I bet.” Mark replies, his tone dryer than ever as he looks at you questionably.

“You still up for lunch?” He says, nodding at the clock. Almost twelve. Almost lunch. which meant being alone with him. You swallow, hard.

“Sorry - I think I’ll stay behind. I was running late this morning so,” You pause, your brain stirring for a proper excuse. He’s not buying it. You can tell by his expression. It makes your breath hitch, and you look back to your computer. His eyes, far too piercing. Too intimidating. All knowing. He knew you well. Too well. Especially well to know when something wasn’t right. But he dropped it, side eyeing you as he turned to leave.

“Right.” Is all he says, his tone almost mocking you as he leaves.

A relief lifts, and you exhale, squeezing your eyes shut.

…

5 p.m rolls around. Then 6 p.m. It was getting late. But you were fully intent on staying behind. You wanted to go through police files. Just to find anything that would debunk Strahm’s theory.

You were desperate.

Mainly because despite your newfound anxiety toward Mark, your heart still leaped when you saw him. Your cheeks warmed. Your legs, unconsciously squeezing together in anticipation. It made you feel sick. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if Strahm was right.

You haven’t seen Mark since lunch. And the office was empty now. You took that as your opportunity.

Cautious, you stand. Your legs like jelly, you’d been sat for most of the day. Too head wrecked to move. Too worried to bump into Mark. Your coffee was un touched too. You had let it go cold.

Exhaustion hits you once you stand.

“Fuck,” You mutter, stretching. Your hand kneading your neck as you walk toward the office door.

You push through, looking left and right as you check the halls before stepping out. It was empty. You relaxed.

You reached the files room and entered, flicking the lights on. It was dimly lit. You walked through the isles looking for ‘B’. You decided to read more into the Seth Baxter case. Maybe you could find something. Anything. You reached the isle alphabetically listed ‘B’ and walked down it slowly, pointing your finger at the folders as you scanned for Seth’s name.

“Baxter, Baxter, Baxter …”

You whispered to yourself, reaching the folder finally.

Bingo.

“Gotcha.” You say triumphant, as you slip the file from the folder.

You lean against the shelving as you opened the file. Disappointed to find nothing but things you already knew. You huff, flicking through. The page lands on an image of Mark’s sister. You can’t help the guilt stirring in your stomach. You’d only met her once. But it was enough to know she was lovely.

“Working overtime?”

You gasp, spinning around in shock to see Mark standing there. You slam the file shut, pulling it close to your chest.

“God, Mark!” You exclaim, your heart battering.

“You scared the shit out of me!”

Marks smiling. Only slightly, but it’s not a smile of amusement. It’s proud. As if he’s figured you out. It makes you gulp.

You don’t like the growing silence. The tension. You calm your breathing and your mind. Forcing a smile,

“I thought you went home.” You say, trying to compose yourself despite your legs telling you to run.

“I did. I forgot my phone,” He shrugs his shoulders, pulling a face.

“Just didn’t expect to find you still here. What’re you doing?”

“Nothing.” You reply, quick.

His eyes shoot down to the folder in your grasp. You follow his gaze.

“Doesn’t look like nothing, l/n.” He takes a few steps close, towering over you. Your dry lips part over his height. His broad chest. The way it rises and falls. He goes to take the file, but you’re clutching it still. His eyes snap to yours.

Defeated, you let go.

He sighs through his nose, his expression warning you to back down as he opens the folder. You feel your heart pounding against your chest - thrumming in your ears. Heat rising to your cheeks due to the closeness of his chest despite being petrified. You can’t find your words. No defence, no explanation. You practically accept your fate as you watch his expression harden at the folder.

“Well,” He says, harshly closing the folder over as he lifts his gaze. His lips, pouting as ever. His eyes, sharp and investigating.

Your mouth parts to speak, he cuts you off,

“You avoid me all day. And now this?” He says, shaking the file in his grip. You can’t look at him. Your eyes downward at your feet.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on with you?” He says again.

You stare at the ground.

You hear him huff as he puts the file back. “Go home, y/n. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

You hear him turn and begin to walk away. The space from him allows you to breathe, as you watch him begin to leave. Something in you clicks. A confidence. You remember your job. A server of the law. You push away your feelings for him and take two steps after him.

“I know who you are, Mark.” You announce boldly. His shoes scuff as he halts, his back still to you.

You straighten your back in some attempt to feel in charge.

His head whips over his shoulder, “Huh?”

You point your chin at him. “You heard me, Mark.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he turns to you, “Really?” His voice is low and smooth, like honey. You found it hard to dislike.

“Enlighten me then.” He says, putting his hands out to express his words as if offering you the stage before putting them on his hips.

You glare at him.

“You’re a detective aren’t you? Do your job. Detect.” He pushes, his tone mocking you. You tried not to feel small or discouraged.

“You’re an accomplice to Jigsaw.” You state.

“Oh yeah? How’d you reach that conclusion? We’ve been partners for -”

“Stop, Mark. Strahm left me everything. All the evidence. You killed Seth, you blamed Jigsaw and now he’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

He’s quiet, his expression fierce as he watches you unravel.

“Hasn’t he?”

“You trust Peter Strahm over me?”

“I trust my instincts.”

“Well your instincts are wrong.”

“They’ve got me this far.” You snap.

He shakes his head, visibly clenching his jaw as his cheek flexes.

“You’ve crossed a line, y/n.” He bites, turning on his heel to leave, “I’m taking this up with Erikson.”

You pull your gun.

“Stop.”

You don’t know what came over you. You didn’t want this. At all. It hurt to even point your gun at him. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself. Your hand shakes.

You hear him sigh and turn back to you yet again, “You’re not gonna shoot me.”

You swallow hard. You’re shaking. He notices. His eyes racking over you. He takes it as an opportunity to step closer.

You adjust your grip on the gun.

Closer, he creeps before his chest is pressing against the gun.

You look at him with glossy eyes. You can’t do it.

“The safety’s on.” He says.

You unleash a breath. Shit.

His hand comes to the gun. You let him take it,

“There you go.” He hums, shoving the gun into his belt.

Your eyes close. You’re exhausted as you heave a heavy sigh.

“You’re very clever, detective.” You hear, opening your eyes upward to him.

He’s confessing?

But ..

“I’m right?” You softly say.

He takes another step, backing you up until your back hits the wall. You feel tiny. Helpless. So close you can smell his cologne. The coffee on his breath. One of his arms cages you as he splays his hand on the wall behind you.

“Mhm. And you’re not gonna say a word, are you?”

You gawk at him. He tilts his head, “Are you?”

You want to push him away. But you can’t help it. You can’t help how your legs waver - the rising heat in your face. You’re trembling.

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, Mark.”

He hums, satisfied. He can see the lust in your eyes.

“You’re gonna have to prove it, sweetheart.”

You blink at him as his free hand comes to clutch your jaw - slowly tilting your head backward.

“Open up now, C’mon. Be good.”

You press your legs together, and you can’t help a whine as it slips out as you open your mouth. God.

You felt helpless in all the best ways.

He sneers, edging close till he’s inches from your open mouth. Softly, he dips his tongue into your mouth. You moan, melting into him as you both press into an open mouthed kiss.

Your hands find his broad chest - clutching his blazer and pulling him closer to you. He obliges, groaning as a hand tangles tight into your hair - curling then pulling you away from the kiss.

You gasp, keeping close to him. Wanting more as you push up against him. He chuckles.

“You were ready to shoot me a few minutes ago. Look at you now, huh.” He mutters against your lips, snarling. His tone harsh and degrading. He gives your hair another yank. You whimper sweetly against his lips.

“You’re mine.” He growls. “Say it,” He demands.

“I’m yours.”

…

AUTHORS NOTE: i LOVED writing this ?????? lmk if you want more mark fics or a part two ???? 🙈🙈