#pressure washing chemicals

[spcleaningcanada]

Why Pressure Washing Chemicals Outperform Traditional Cleaning Solutions

When it comes to maintaining the cleanliness and appeal of surfaces, particularly in outdoor environments, choosing the right cleaning method is essential. Over the years, pressure washing chemicals have emerged as a superior alternative to traditional cleaning solutions. This article explores why pressure washing chemicals are more effective, efficient, and eco-friendly than conventional approaches.

What Are Pressure Washing Chemicals?

Pressure washing chemicals are specially formulated cleaning agents designed to enhance the power of pressure washers. These solutions target dirt, grease, mold, and other stubborn contaminants that accumulate on surfaces such as driveways, patios, building exteriors, and industrial equipment.

Advantages of Pressure Washing Chemicals Over Traditional Cleaning Solutions

1. Superior Cleaning Power

Traditional cleaning often relies on manual scrubbing, which can be time-consuming and less effective against tough stains. Pressure washing chemicals, combined with high-pressure water, can easily penetrate and break down:

Grease and oil stains

Mold and mildew

Rust and mineral deposits

This ensures a deep clean without the physical strain or extended time commitment of manual methods.

2. Saves Time and Effort

Cleaning large areas with traditional tools like brushes, buckets, or basic detergents can take hours. Pressure washing chemicals cut down cleaning time significantly by:

Breaking down contaminants faster.

Allowing the water pressure to lift debris effortlessly.

Eliminating the need for repetitive scrubbing.

3. Prevents Surface Damage

Traditional cleaning often involves abrasive scrubbing that can damage delicate surfaces. Pressure washing chemicals, when used correctly, provide a non-abrasive cleaning method that:

Preserves the integrity of materials such as wood, stone, or siding.

Reduces the risk of scratches or wear over time.

4. Environmentally Friendly Options

Modern pressure washing chemicals are available in biodegradable and eco-friendly formulations. These products:

Minimize environmental impact by breaking down safely after use.

Require less water compared to prolonged scrubbing with traditional methods.

5. Cost-Effective in the Long Run

While traditional cleaning solutions may seem inexpensive upfront, their inefficiency often leads to higher long-term costs in terms of:

Replacement of worn surfaces.

Excessive water usage.

Time and labor expenses.

Pressure washing chemicals, on the other hand, are highly concentrated, requiring smaller quantities to achieve excellent results.

6. Versatile Applications

From residential patios to industrial machinery, pressure washing chemicals are versatile and customizable for specific tasks. They outperform traditional cleaning solutions by addressing:

Graffiti removal.

Stubborn oil spills.

Algae and moss on outdoor surfaces.

Best Practices for Using Pressure Washing Chemicals

To maximize the benefits of pressure washing chemicals, consider the following:

Choose the Right Chemical: Ensure the product matches the surface type and cleaning requirements.

Dilute Appropriately: Follow manufacturer instructions to avoid overuse or residue.

Pair with the Right Equipment: Use compatible pressure washers for optimal results.

Protect Surrounding Areas: Avoid overspray on delicate plants or materials.

Conclusion

Pressure washing chemicals outperform traditional cleaning solutions in nearly every aspect: effectiveness, efficiency, cost savings, and environmental friendliness. By adopting these powerful cleaning agents, homeowners and businesses alike can achieve superior results while saving time and effort.

Make the switch today and discover why pressure washing chemicals are revolutionizing the way we clean!

[crowncleaning]

Explore Our Dynamic Range of Pressure Washing Chemicals

Revolutionize your cleaning routine with our advanced line of pressure washing chemicals, meticulously crafted to tackle dirt, grime, and stains with unparalleled effectiveness. At Crown Cleaning Systems, we understand the importance of a pristine clean, and our curated selection of chemicals is designed to make your pressure-washing tasks a breeze.

At Crown Cleaning Systems, we prioritize quality and innovation. Our pressure washing chemicals are engineered to work seamlessly with various pressure washing equipment, ensuring efficiency and exceptional cleaning performance. Trust in our expertise to provide you with the tools you need to achieve a spotless, rejuvenated environment.

Visit Crown Cleaning Systems to explore our comprehensive lineup and experience the transformative power of our pressure washing chemicals. Elevate your cleaning endeavors with solutions that redefine cleanliness and leave your surfaces looking as good as new.

[its-no-biggie]

demand avoidance is sooooo fucking dumb like. what do you mean now that i know i have to get up fairly early tomorrow i dont want to go to bed early anymore. i was already planning on going to bed early!!!! and now i have more reason to go to bed early!!!!! what do you mean its HARDER now that doesnt make any sense why are you doing this to meeeeeee

[high-5powerwashing]

Reliable Chemical Washing Services In Taylors SC

At High - 5 Power Washing, we turn grime into shine with unmatched expertise. Led by Jim David, we specialize in pressure washing, driveway cleaning, and chemical washing, ensuring every surface sparkles. Discover the Reliable Chemical Washing Services In Taylors SC, and experience the professional touch your property deserves.

[ashevillencpressure]

Website : https://ashevillencpressurewashing.com/

Address : 119 Meadow Pathway Drive, Fletcher, NC 28732

Phone : +1 828-970-1726

Asheville NC Pressure Washing specializes in providing top-notch pressure washing services to meet all your cleaning needs. With a commitment to excellence, we take pride in rejuvenating your surfaces and enhancing the curb appeal of your property in Asheville, NC. Our skilled and experienced team utilizes state-of-the-art equipment and environmentally friendly cleaning solutions to remove dirt, grime, mold, and stains from a wide range of surfaces, including driveways, sidewalks, decks, and exteriors. Whether you’re a homeowner looking to refresh your property’s appearance, a business owner seeking to maintain a professional image, or a property manager aiming to attract tenants, our pressure washing services are tailored to your specific requirements. We prioritize customer satisfaction, ensuring that your surfaces are not only cleaner but also protected against future wear and tear.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 10

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader manage to discuss the direction of their physical relationship between makeouts. reader isn't feeling comfortable at her apartment, so they plan their first trip together.

series masterlist

this fic is 18+ warnings/tags: d/s dynamics but not smutty, softdom!spencer/sub reader, mild pda?, hint at switch!spencer, they talk about sex/how r feels about her first time, making out, r has long hair, almost dry humping if you're standing several miles away, unresolved sexual tension, teasing/flirting. don't like? don't read a/n: yayyyyy hi guys!! no idea when part 11 will be out. I missed them. I love them so bad. they are my favorite ever. they are so special to me 4ever. hope u missed them and ur just as happy to see them happy as I am :")

“Do you like eyelet?” Spencer asks, reaching up to grab a set of sheets you couldn’t. He insists that you let him get everything from the top shelf because it’s been handled less. 

You shrug, distracted by the angle of his jaw and the line of his throat as he retrieves the plastic package. 

It’s Sunday. Three nights in a row spent with him—the longest sleepover streak thus far—and you don’t want to go back to sleeping alone tonight. But you know it’s time. Both of you have things to attend to tomorrow, and you’re not exactly in the habit of getting things done when you’re together. All weekend you’ve lounged in his lap on the couch or tangled yourself in his arms in bed—fully clothed, of course. Spencer had suggested the no-sex rule on Friday, and you’re glad for it. You feel no pressure to be doing more when he’s kissing you or holding you. 

Of course, the concept of having sex again crosses your mind—when you’re washing your face and catch a glimpse of the bruises on your neck in the mirror, or when the tips of Spencer’s fingers trace idly over a span of exposed skin on your lower back as you watch a movie on the couch and you’re struck with desire, or you move just right and feel a tiny lingering twinge of soreness. There was a time when if you had Spencer Reid to yourself for three nights, a Navy SEAL wouldn’t have been able to pull you off of him. Now, when you think about the fact that there will be a second time, you get that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling—but you’re not sure if it’s good or apprehensive. 

Either way, it’d be too much right now. 

You do miss feeling that kind of closeness with him. That intimacy. It can’t be replicated, no matter how many naps you take together. Probably something to do with brain chemicals and hormones. He could explain it all, if you were brave enough to ask. 

So you know it’d be too much… but it’s not that you don’t want it. There is also, of course, the issue of the way he looks. It’s not helping your cognition. It’s not encouraging you to make good choices. 

You’re not supposed to be thinking about sex. You’re supposed to tell him if you like eyelet. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

Spencer gives you an exasperated look and sighs. He’s wearing his glasses today. His hair is freshly washed and fluffy. The navy blue sweater he’s wearing is about the only step between a button down and pajamas for him, and he looks good in casual clothing. You chew your lip. 

He doesn’t notice your ogling. “You’ve said that about everything.”

“I’m really not that passionate about the fabric of my sheets,” you defend, shoulders rising and dropping. 

“Surely you like some of them less and some of them more. Usually you jump at the chance to express an opinion.”

Okay. Uncalled for. 

He’s obviously kidding. You overreact anyway. 

“You suck,” you mumble, brushing past him in search of something suitable for your bed. 

Spencer processes this for a moment and then trails after you down the aisle. 

“I suck?”

“Here, look. Bamboo. That’s good, right?”

Your boyfriend glances at the package you’ve selected, probably holding back a whole host of facts about bamboo farming in China. 

“It’s fine. Why do I suck?”

“Because you implied I’m opinionated.”

“I didn’t imply it. It was an explicit statement.”You groan petulantly and put the sheets back on the shelf with force. Spencer picks them up and follows you deeper into the store. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t,” you huff, turning around to face him once you’re safely sequestered in a new aisle. The store’s not busy—an elderly couple roams for fake fruit and towels, humming vacantly to the Muzak, and a single mom wrangles her kids in a cart. Back here, it’s just the two of you. “Not really.”

“Then what did?” He asks gently, stepping closer. Spencer’s not overly-affectionate in public, but the tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he can see your thoughts, feels intimate. 

You’re helpless when he gets like this, and he probably knows it. It’s an abuse of power and when you can think straight again you’ll have to scold him for it. 

“It doesn’t even matter. You’re just gonna drop me off after this anyway.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes alight with a good puzzle as he quickly strings together the facts in his head. 

“Is that it?”

You frown and hesitate, eyes catching on a loose thread at the hem of his sweater. 

“… No.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re upset because I’m taking you home.”

You scramble to deny. “That’s not it.”

“I think it is,” he murmurs, a smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth. 

You study the waxen floor tiles intently. 

“Well… I mean, would that be weird? You’re gonna miss me too, right?”

You sound unsure—insecure, even. When you look back up at him, his eyes are melted chocolate, even under the fluorescents. He glances down at your mouth briefly and then over your shoulder. 

Pleasekissmepleasekissmepleasekissme.

He doesn’t, but you can tell he really wants to, which is almost as good. 

“Of course, I’m going to miss you. But we’ll see each other soon. Probably tomorrow.”

“Unless you get called out on a case. But it’s not even really that. It’s just—how am I supposed to… I don’t know! We just spent three nights together. How am I supposed to go back to sleeping alone for a whole week?”

Maybe you’re too attached to him now, because acknowledging the thought which has been lurking all morning opens the floodgates that were holding back a sea of dread, and you feel it in every inch of your body. Five nights alone stretch out before you like an infinite, impassable forest. Friday is an eternity away, and there’s no guarantee he’ll even be here Friday night, if the team gets a case. 

Spencer somehow regards you with both curiosity and innate wisdom, like you’re a new specimen in a familiar field, for a long enough moment that your cheeks begin to warm. 

“Sorry, that was embarrassing. I’m being weird, it’s fine—”

Just as you go to walk away, he pulls you carefully back in by the wrist, even closer than before. 

“No. You’re sweet,” he murmurs, hand warm even through the knit of your sleeve. Gingerly you look back up at him. 

“But you’re not gonna miss me as much as I miss you.”

“Do not undermine my capacity for yearning. I missed you when you were brushing your teeth this morning.”

“Ooh. So clingy,” you tease, though you’re obviously delighted by the information, and he borderline pouts. 

“Don’t say that. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh as he pulls you to his chest, keeping you there with a hand to your back. 

“Okay. Now say you love me.”

For a moment you’re distracted by the proximity, the lowering of his voice as he brings you into his space and your faces are only inches apart. The smell of his body wash coming from both of you. 

“I love you,” you breathe, and it’s not as teasing as you’d meant for it to be as his eyes dart to your lips. 

Even though you’re bossy, is what you don’t say. 

This seems to please him, because finally, he’s tilting his head down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It’s still enough to make you lightheaded. 

“Apology accepted. I love you too,” he murmurs. And then he’s pulling back, trying to walk around you. “Do you wanna stop for coffee on the way back to yours?”

“Wait,” you order, suddenly listless and disoriented in the middle of the aisle. “You’re not gonna…”

Spencer frowns back at you.

“I’m not gonna what?”

“You’re not gonna… say it?”

“… I love you? I did say that.”

“No, there’s—usually when I do stuff you ask me to do, you say—”

Only when the first ray of understanding illuminates his face do you realize you actually shouldn’t have said anything at all. 

“Nevermind. Yeah, let’s just go.”

Spencer catches your arm again as you attempt to walk past him, laughing quietly as he leans down to speak in your ear. 

“I am not calling you good girl in the small decorative statues aisle.”

“What if we go back to the bedding aisle?” You ask, through the warmth of your own cheeks. 

It’s sort of a joke. 

“Remember what I said about appropriate context?”

“All those sheets, and duvet covers, and stuff. It’s basically the same.”

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to tear your eyes from a little robot statue and look at him. Eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed, warmed only by a hint of humor. A barely detectable curve of the mouth. 

Oops. With all your blind-button pushing, you might’ve accidentally tapped the one responsible for all the marks on your neck—the one that makes him tick in a way which usually ends with you underneath him. 

And then, for the first time, you actually watch as he pushes it down—activates some sort of self-cooling system. Probably he understands that whether you meant to be provocative or not, this interaction isn’t headed in a salacious direction. Even if you weren’t in public, the rule is holding fast. 

His hand slides from your arm to intertwine with your fingers. 

“What are you doing next week?”

You blink at the sudden change in subject and tone. 

“Uh… I don’t know. Working, probably.”

“From home?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He chews his lip thoughtfully. 

“I… still have a few days of annual leave that I need to use. I don’t know if this is… this might be too much, and you can say no. But Rossi has a place in Shenandoah. It’s a cabin—it’s, it’s really nice, I’ve seen pictures. He used to use it for hunting, I guess now he rents it out in the summer and fall but it’s empty during the off-season and he’s always offering it to the team. It’s only like, an hour away. An hour and nine minutes actually, if you take the 66 Express outside the Beltway from Arlington. I looked it up, um… semi-recently. I’m sure he’d let us use it, if you wanted to come burn four days of leave with me. No pressure. Of any kind. I could also, just, y’know, stay home, and we could still spend time together that way. We could finish Deep Space Nine. Or watch something else. Or watch nothing. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Your heart rate has been increasing steadily since he started his impromptu speech—you’re glad he seems nervous inviting you. You’re a little nervous accepting. A trip together is definitely a new step. But getting the hell out of dodge with him for a few days sounds wonderful. 

“I’d love to go,” you say earnestly. 

Spencer’s face goes blank for a second, and then his eyebrows raise, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes. 

“Oh. Oh! Great! Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to Rossi about it tomorrow.”

He remains highly chipper as he hands his card over to the cashier for your new overpriced bamboo sheets. 

The promise of getting Spencer to yourself for four consecutive days and nights is the only way you’re able to fall asleep to a cold bed that night. 

It’s harder, at home now—you’re self-conscious of every and any noise. Music, cooking, talking on the phone. 

It doesn’t make sense, because you know you can’t hear your neighbors, so they shouldn’t be able to hear you, and Jerry’s a creep, who might’ve made the whole thing up just to get under your skin—but it’s all you can think about, when you’re there. 

Monday evening, Spencer comes to visit, as promised. You undo all the locks and open the door just enough for him to slip through. 

He kisses you hello as you close the door and sets his things down at the table while you relock. 

“No Jerry today?”

“Nope. I haven’t seen him since Friday.”

“Good,” Spencer says only once you turn, a distinct chill to his tone and a mostly unfamiliar frigidity to his eyes. It’s not directed at you, but it’s unnerving nonetheless, so you draw closer and wrap your arms around his waist—hoping to melt him back into your Spencer. 

He reciprocates, speaks softer now that he has you in his arms, and immediately you feel better. 

“Rossi said yes to us staying at the cabin and Emily said I can take the time off. Did you still wanna go?”

You’re pre-occupied with your face buried in his shirt, so you just nod, basking in the scent of his shower products once more. They’ve gone from simply comforting to intoxicating. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks quietly, brushing your hair over your shoulder. His fingers barely glance off your neck and you almost shiver. Want begins to pool deep and warm in your stomach as you lift your head and he looks down at you, so fondly. 

Want which you can’t afford to feel if you’re not willing to act on it. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe. Fuck. He’s too close. He’s too hot. You pull away and move to the kitchen. “Um, dinner. What do you want? We could make something. Or order something. I don’t have much, honestly.”

“I’ll be happy with anything. You sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t want to have sex!”

The words simply explode out of you, like a bat out of hell as you whip around. Just barely you manage not to clap a hand over your mouth in mortification. 

You stand, back to the fridge, watching Spencer nervously for his reaction. 

His brow knits. His lips part and close again several times. 

You’re wondering what the fastest and most convenient method of not being alive anymore would be when he finally answers. 

“… Okay. I wasn’t trying to initiate anything, did I—did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know that while I’m still, like, figuring things out—like, with my neighbor and everything—it’s just a lot, so… so I know this past weekend we agreed to not do anything and I think it would be best to… keep not doing anything. Just for now. I shouldn’t have said it like that—I didn’t actually… mean to say it. I was gonna, um, find a way to bring it up more delicately.”

You clear your throat and look down to study the patterned tile, cheeks burning. 

By way of several nervous glances up at him and back down, you watch Spencer silently come to lean against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. We’re not ever going to do anything you don’t want to do. But, out of curiosity… is this just because of your neighbor? Or because you maybe don’t feel ready yet?”

He’s asking gently, because he wants to know, and you know there’s no wrong answer. It’s still nerve-racking.  

“Um… like, a combination of the two, I guess. Mostly… the neighbor. I think. But I’m telling you this because…” and here comes the worst part. “I need you… to… hold me accountable.”

“For what?” He asks plainly, but you know what he sounds like when perfectly suppressing a smile. The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your face as you close your eyes and forge ahead in the name of open and honest communication—something the two of you are trying to work on.

“If I… come on to you… you have to turn me down.”

This is not getting any less embarrassing. 

“Should I anticipate you coming onto me?”

“Probably,” you sigh, looking at him through your lashes and bringing your hands to your cheeks, hoping maybe they’ll cool you down and poor circulation will work in your favor for once. “I know myself. You know me. I like… asking you for things. But for the rest of the week, if I do… you know, want something from you—you have to tell me no.”

Spencer nods slowly. “What if you genuinely change your mind?”

“I won’t. I might think I have, I might even tell you I have, but don’t believe me, okay? I don’t think straight when I’m turned on, and if we do anything, I’ll like it until fucking Jerry is pounding my door down the next day, and I just can’t deal with that.”

Spencer’s face goes completely void of expression to the point that if it weren’t for context clues you’d have no idea he’s probably imagining pistol-whipping the guy. 

“Has he knocked on your door?” 

Testosterone. 

“No. Back to my point. I’m trusting you to keep me in check so I don’t do anything I’ll… I’ll end up regretting. Not that I regret the other night!” You scramble just as Spencer’s brow begins to furrow. “I don’t. I just regret that my gross neighbor had to get involved. And I don’t want that to happen again. So… is that… is that okay? Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will,” Spencer says gently, without hesitation as he pushes off the counter. “Can I ask a follow-up question?”

You nod and regard the space between you, unsure if you want to eliminate it or keep using it like a buffer. By not coming to you, he’s giving you the choice. 

“You said this was mostly because of your neighbor. But you didn’t sound sure. It’s fine if you aren’t feeling ready yet. I just want to make sure I know what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t really know,” you admit, after a brief pause. “I feel like… as long as I know he’s on the other side of the wall I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my head around how I actually feel. It’s also confusing because, like I was saying, I… just because I feel like I want something in the moment, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m actually ready for it, you know? I don’t even know if… I don’t even know what being ready again really means or would look like.”

“You did the other night.”

“Yeah, but that was different. Because now I’m gonna think I know what I’m getting myself into, but that’s not necessarily true.”

Another pause in which you chew your lip and look away. 

“I don’t want you to overthink it, honey. I think being ready just means you’re comfortable, and you’re with someone who’s going to keep you safe, and nobody’s pressuring you, and you’re not, you know—pressuring yourself. Wanting it is actually really important, too. But what I’m hearing right now is that even if you might want it, you’re not in a place that feels safe. And that makes sense to me. So we’re just not gonna do anything until that changes, okay?”

Eyes still cast downward, your lips twist into a sardonic little smile. 

“I feel like I’m talking to my therapist.”

He laughs with a single breath. 

“I really hope your therapist doesn’t speak to you like I do. The ethics there would be highly questionable.”

The joke refreshes your courage and you look back up at him, smile still edged with humor but mostly unspoken gratitude. 

The half-smile on Spencer’s face, however, is fading steadily as he studies you in flickering passes. Like there’s something still on his mind. You were hoping for a subtle invitation back into his arms, but the space between you remains—infused now with a tension as it becomes increasingly obvious. 

“Also… this trip we’re going on. I feel like I should say this—I don’t know if it was even on your mind, but… I don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex just because of the timing. Me inviting you on a last-minute trip to an isolated cabin—it’s not a master plan to get you to sleep with me again, I promise. I really just wanted us to be alone. Not—not that kind of alone—I mean, we’ll be alone, but it doesn’t have to be like that. I was just thinking about how nice it was for us to get those three nights together, you know, and the whole weekend too, and with my job, that’s not always going to happen, so it just seemed like a good opportunity—”

“Spencer,” you laugh, letting the tension snap like a rubber band as you go to him, slinging your arms over his shoulders, delighted to be the one doing the interrupting and not the flustered rambling, for a change. “I know you don’t have an ulterior motive. As for what kind of alone we’re going to be… we’ll figure that out, okay? Don’t worry about me. I don’t feel pressured by you. I never have. If anything, I’m the one who pressures you for sex.”

You’ve got him smiling once more, as his hands find your waist and his gaze flips from your mouth to your eyes and back again. It goes very subtly mischievous in a way you don’t quite trust, but he’s dipping his head to kiss you, and something tells you it’s going to be a good one, so when your nose bumps against his, and you can feel his breath on your lips, you’re not at all prepared for him to speak. 

“Begging is not the same as pressuring, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly you don’t even have time to be properly affronted. The offended gasp gets stuck in your throat, and melts into a tiny huff as it turns out the kiss is a very good one. You can’t think hard enough to be offended. Not even when he chuckles against you. 

“That’s not fair,” you mumble when he allows you a second to breathe. He hums, satisfying himself with kisses to your cheek and playing along. 

“What’s not fair?” 

“You… I was supposed to have the upper hand in that situation! You were the nervous one for once!”

Another hum, buzzing against your lips this time. 

“You have to learn how to take the upper hand, angel. I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a big part of my job.”

Admittedly it’s hard to think when he talks like this, but you try. 

“So… you manipulate me? That’s not very romantic.”

He laughs quietly again. 

“No. I do not manipulate you.”

“You’re just a control freak,” you tease. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, immediately, still soft-spoken as he pulls back to carefully search your eyes. “Does that bother you?”

You search hands and knees for a crumb of outrage, for a hint of any of that strong feminist theory you’ve instilled into your brain over so many years. 

There’s nothing to be found. 

“No,” you admit, dejectedly, hanging your head as much as he’ll allow. “Should it?”

“Only if you don’t like it. When I take the upper hand like that, I’m really just… posing a yes or no question. So far, you lean towards saying yes. You let me win. But you don’t have to.”

“What happens if I… if I don’t let you win?”

He angles his head, coaxing you to look in his eyes once more. A hand comes up to swipe a dot of mascara from under your brow. He’s looking at you so serenely, like none of this is at all complicated. 

“Whatever you want. I wouldn’t be the one making the rules anymore.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You laugh nervously. 

“That’s a lot of pressure. What if… I want you to keep making the rules? For forever?”

He kisses you again, insistently enough you have to tilt your head back. When he answers, it’s low, a promise, and pressed right against your waiting mouth. 

“Then I will.”

You loose a tremulous breath from your parted lips and you know he can feel it. He can feel how you’re clinging to his shirt, pressing yourself closer, how your skin has warmed and your breaths have hastened, he can probably taste how much you want him, how you’re already thinking about giving it all up for him—

And maybe that’s why he laughs dryly into your mouth before pulling away. 

Because he’s a good boyfriend. 

Spencer knits his brow and clears his throat as his hand slides down your arm, eyes narrowed like he’s wondering how things escalated so quickly. You certainly are. 

Suddenly he’s back to the nerd you met in a coffee shop all those months ago, and you like him like this, too. “So… dinner?” 

“Mhm. Yeah. We should… we should definitely eat. What do you wanna eat?”

You don’t miss the quick once over he gives you. Or the way his throat bobs once he tears his eyes away. 

“Um… how does Indian sound?”

You swear you don’t know how it happened. 

Everything was going fine—there was food on the coffee table, a show on the TV. Spencer made tea. It was wholesome. 

And then, somewhere between setting the plastic takeout bag down and actually opening it, you ended up like this. Kneeling next to him on the couch, one hand braced on his thigh, the other tangled in his hair as you kiss slow. Like this could actually be leading somewhere. 

“We should stop,” he reminds you, even as his hand traverses up your leg. You lean further into him—he has to tip his head back to meet your lips. 

“We’re kissing. It’s nothing.”

“You were—” kiss. “Just telling me—” kiss. “That you don’t want this right now.”

Deep kiss. The grip he has on your hip does not agree with his words. 

“This is just kissing. Kissing isn’t sex.”

Even as you’re saying it, you’re throwing your leg over his lap, landing in a straddle. 

“No,” he groans as if pained, throwing his head onto the back of the couch and depriving you of his mouth. “Baby. You have to get off. We can’t do this.”

“My bathroom—we could—it doesn’t share a wall with his apartment, we could go in there and turn on the shower and we could be really quiet—”

Suddenly there’s a hand over your mouth. It’s not yours. 

“Please stop before I say yes.”

You pull his hand away, fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“You should. You should say yes. It’s a good idea, I know he wouldn’t be able to hear us over the shower—”

“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you asked me to turn you down not even an hour ago, no matter what you say, and I said I would.” He takes a shuddering deep breath. “And… I’m going to. I’m saying no.”

“No,” you whine, head falling to his shoulder, because you know he’ll keep his promise. He cups the back of your head—a kind, sympathetic gesture, which does nothing to alleviate the heat of your blood or the ache between your legs. You pout into his neck. “This is terrible. I might not survive.”

“I think you will.”

“Maybe if I enter a coma.”

He laughs and strokes your thigh. 

“There are worse things than sexual frustration.”

“Not right now. This is the worst thing I can imagine.”

“I’m so sorry. You poor thing.”

You pull back to face him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Oh my god. Don’t act like it’s not bothering you.”

“I’m not bothered.”

“I know that’s not true. You know how I can tell?”

The slightest adjustment of your hips draws attention to exactly what you mean. Spencer goes completely deadpan. 

“Stop,” he orders in monotone, and you laugh even you allow yourself to be tossed back onto the couch because you’ve successfully flustered him again. He puts a throw pillow over his lap and leans forward, hiding his blush beneath perfect hands with a tortured groan. “You’re terrible.”

The couch attempts to suck you in as you wriggle back from a lying position, propping yourself up on your elbows and grinning at him. 

“I did it,” you gloat. 

He angles his head toward you, revealing half a pretty face, still dusted red but now with all the markings of inquisition. 

“You did what?”

“I took the upper hand.”

Those dark eyes narrow and before you can think to retract your legs he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling them over his pillow and leaving you flat on your back once more. Again you giggle. 

“You took nothing,” he asserts, but you’re not bothered—still smiling as you accept your new position and toss your arms above your head casually. 

“Somebody’s a sore loser.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your curry.”

“Sorry, I’m full. From, you know, the taste of victory.”

He exhales a dry chuckle, leaning forward to finally retrieve the containers of food. 

“I can’t believe I ever let you call me a nerd.”

The rest of the evening remains PG. Conversation flows and trickles comfortably over dinner on the couch, and afterwards, he suggests a documentary. From the outside, it might not look like much—but to you, with your head on his chest as the TV casts its flickering, ghostly light over the room, with the beating of his heart against your ear and his breath against the top of your head, it’s everything. Six months ago you didn’t know what it was to exist so comfortably around another person like this. Now, though he feels familiar and safe, you don’t take it for granted. The novelty of something so simple is not lost on you, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world as your eyes begin to flutter. You’re lucky to have someone you feel completely safe with. 

Spencer murmurs your name like a question.  It buzzes against your ear. You hum in response. 

His thumb fans lines over your shoulder blade. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Mhm.”

“The other night… we didn’t really get a chance to—to debrief, afterwards. Which is fine, you were tired, it was late. But then the next morning I had to go, and everything with your neighbor happened, and we talked about that a little bit, but… but earlier, it sounded like maybe you… I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t feeling good about how it happened?”

“Spencer, I told you I don’t regret it,” you remind him, pushing up from his chest to look him in the eye. His hand slides down your back. 

“I know… I just wanted to give you another chance to talk about it. In case anything was on your mind.” He frets over your hair, an invisible speck on your skin. Like he’s nervous. “And I want to make sure you’re feeling okay about how it went. I know what happened the next day was an unfortunate addendum, and I’m sorry about that. As soon as you give me permission, I will have him arrested. But I don’t want that to overshadow your experience.”

“It’s… not,” you breathe, fiddling with a button on Spencer’s shirt. 

“So how did you feel about it? Barring anything external?”

“Good.”

Spencer strokes your jaw with a knuckle, gently admonishing. 

“Don’t just say that. Think about it.”

“I have,” you assure him immediately, cheeks warming as you realize just how swiftly you’d replied. 

What a lovely button. Mother-of-pearl. The shirt is a pale lilac. It looks good on him. One of your favorites, actually. 

Spencer lets you pick at it. He would probably let you pull the button off, tear every stitch on the shirt with a seam-ripper if it helped to soothe your nerves. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go into explicit detail. I know it still feels weird to talk about. But it’s something we do have to talk about.”

“I know. And I would bring it up if something didn’t feel right. But it… was…” you chew your lip as you think of a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound too mushy-gushy. “Overwhelmingly… a very positive experience.”

“You sound like Yelp review,” Spencer says through a smile. You attempt to smother the continual heat of your embarrassment against his shirt. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, more intimately than anyone ever has before. And you’re still shy about acknowledging that fact. 

“Shut up. Say something nice back.”

With a typically gentle hand, he pushes hair away from your ear. 

“I…” he begins meaningfully, taking a moment to sweep your hair over your back. “Feel incredibly grateful that you trusted me to take care of you. I know that’s big for you, and I know it can be a really scary thing. Mostly I’m happy you’re happy. And that I didn’t mess up irredeemably.”

“What would you have messed up?” You laugh, retreating from your shelter against his chest to knit your brow. 

He makes a face in the half-dark like he shouldn’t have said it. 

“Uh… that… veers into explicit detail… and possibly too much honesty.”

You laugh again and adjust to frame his sheepish smile between your hands. 

“I see. You have to keep your mystique in tact.”

“I really don’t think it’s that much of a mystery.”

“Well, I’ll spare your ego.”

“Wow, thanks. For the first time in your life.”

You go in for a chaste, smiley kiss, which stays sweet and kind even as it melts into something stickier. 

It comes to a turning point and Spencer inhales deeply, gently angling his head away and shifting to check his watch. You collapse on his chest, catching your breath. 

“I should go.”

“No. I feel like you’re going away to war.”

“I’m going to Court House. Where I live.”

“What if I never see you again?”

“It’s twenty minutes away. So you could always just drive.”

You frown. 

“I hope you get trench foot.”

“You know seventy seven thousand soldiers died from trench foot in World War Two?”

“Obviously I did not know that.”

“Well, next time you should just say you want me to die. Up.”

He pats the back of your thigh and you push off of him, only after considering trying to hold him hostage for a split second. 

You hover by the couch like a ghost, watching with increasing anxiety as he gathers together the empty containers from your meal and throws them in the kitchen garbage before collecting his things. 

There is one thing—one potentially difficult thing you haven’t mentioned to him that seems to be a direct consequence of finally sleeping together. 

You’re clingy. 

Clingier than you’ve ever been. It didn’t seem possible to want to be around him more than you already had, but now when he’s gone you feel his absence like a vacuous hole by your side. Without his warmth, you’re always a little colder. A little less comfortable. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re starting to get separation anxiety, so you won’t put it into so many words—but you think, as he turns, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a knowing look, that he understands. 

At the same time, you begin to close the space, meeting gently in the middle, toe to toe. You keep your hands behind your back, afraid that otherwise you’ll try and glom onto him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull. 

“There are some things I’d like to get done this week so I don’t have to worry about them during our trip. So I might not see you for a day or two.”

Dutifully you nod, though you’re slightly crushed. 

“That’s okay. We’re grownups.”

“I don’t know,” he tuts. “I’m worried I’m gonna start writing my name with your last on all my notebooks.”

That stupid, stupid charm. 

“Mm… I’m kinda out of your league,” you grin. 

Spencer’s smile wanes slowly, but his eyes remain soft and aglow as they explore your face as reverently as his hands would. When he speaks, it’s in an honest, borderline whisper. “I’m acutely aware.”

Slowly his head dips, and your eyes flutter shut. A sweet, lingering kiss lands on your cheek. Then he’s pulling back. 

“That’s it?” You can’t help but ask, peering up at him and barely concealing a frown. 

He smiles that lovely smile, but by this point you’re attuned enough to his facial expressions to recognize the subtle heat playing just beneath the surface of those golden-oak eyes. 

“What? Did I give you the impression that I put out?”

“It’s just a kiss.”

That teasing edge becomes ever so slightly sharper as he regards you, head tilting. 

“Mhm. And the last time you said that—was it before or after you mounted me?”

You shoo him away pretty quickly after that—partly for discipline, and partly because the sooner he’s gone, the sooner you’ll go to sleep, and the sooner it will be tomorrow. 

And this trip can’t come soon enough, because you’re pretty sure you know exactly what kind of alone you’d like to be with Spencer Reid.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Wound Care

Wound care - involves cleaning a wound, flushing or irrigating it with pressurized water or an antiseptic solution, and applying or changing a dressing.

Immediate Wound Care

Applying direct pressure to control any bleeding

Examining the wound for dirt and foreign objects after any bleeding has stopped

Cleaning the wound by gently flooding it with saline solution if available, with bottled water, or with clean running water

Gently cleansing the area around the wound with soap and clean water

Patting the area dry and covering it with an adhesive bandage or clean dry cloth

Leaving uncovered bites, punctures, and wounds that cannot be properly cleaned to prevent trapping bacteria that could result in infection

Aftercare

Aimed at preventing infection.

Puncture wounds or contaminated wounds may require a tetanus booster shot.

Dressings should never be reused.

Any soiled laundry from wound care procedures should be washed separately from other laundry, possibly with bleach.

Sometimes a wound-drainage culture is used to test for bacteria, fungi, or viruses in open wounds from punctures, cuts, tears, or surgical incisions or abscesses.

Abscesses require making a small incision in the skin to obtain pus or fluid from the wound.

The tip of a sterile cotton swab or a syringe and small needle (needle aspiration) is used to remove the sample for culturing.

Some Terminology

Aerobe—Bacteria that require oxygen to live.

Alginate—Colloidal substances from marine brown algae, especially giant kelp, that are used for wound dressings.

Anaerobe—Bacteria that live only where there is no oxygen.

Antiseptic—Chemicals applied to the skin to destroy bacteria and prevent infection.

Autolytic—Self-digestion; breakdown of tissue by the body’s own enzymes.

Debridement—The removal of cut, dead, or contaminated tissue.

Dehiscence—The opening of sutures from a surgical incision.

Dressing—The covering of a wound.

Exudate—Drainage from a wound; an exudative wound is one that drains fluid and pus.

Hydrocolloid—Dressing material that turns into a gel when combined with watery drainage.

Hydrogel—A water-based dressing material.

Hydrophilic—Dressing material that absorbs water.

Irrigation—Flushing or washing out a wound.

Necrotic—Dead tissue.

Normal flora—The mixture of bacteria normally found at specific body sites.

Normal saline—Physiological saline; a solution of 0.9% sodium chloride, the approximate salt concentrate of blood and tissues.

Tetanus—Lockjaw; a rare but often fatal infection caused by the bacterium Clostridium tetani that lives in soil, dust, and manure.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References More: Writing Realistic Injuries ⚜ On Anatomy ⚜ On Wounds

[marzipanandminutiae]

I hope the statue that he is kissing is a modern replica.

The one time I visited the British museum, some people where taking pictures of them sitting in the lap of an Egyptian statue and they got so mad when asked not to do that.

Oh yeah. I've never witnessed it (I would instantly call a guard over; fuck that), but it definitely happens.

And the people who defend it always talk about how they're "just having fun" or "being free spirits" or "honoring what the artist would have wanted [how the hell do you know that? the artist has been dead for, in some cases, thousands of years]." it's presented as this sensual, Romantic thing that's pushing back against a stuffy, repressive museum culture

and like. no. that's not what you're doing at all

This display in the Ashmolean Museum demonstrates the effects of touching different materials- just touching with bare hands, not even putting pressure on them or applying other substances like lipstick or other makeup that might be on your face when you kiss a statue

I work in museums and even for objects where you don't have to wear gloves, I wash my hands before handling and touch them as little as possible. even in private antique jewelry shops, I warn the sellers that I have chemical sunscreen on before asking to try on pieces. once things are in my "collection" I'm often a bit less careful, but if it doesn't belong to me, I take the utmost precautions. and things in museums don't belong to you

they belong to generations that will come after you. they belong to other members of the public. they belong to the world. that's what museums are for. the rules aren't there to ruin your good time; they're there to make sure other people get to enjoy seeing these things, too we're collectively moving away from barriers in the museum world as much as possible, so people CAN see details of these objects more easily, but that relies on a level of trust between us and the guests

it's not cute or beautiful or sexy or Romantic to touch or kiss statues in museums. it's stealing from everyone else for your personal photo op- it's selfish and entitled in the extreme

[teaboot]

Yo I haven't done it in forever so I forgot that working at a sex shop gives you superpowers

1. The We-Vibe Tango is a low frequency and fully waterproof rechargeable bullet vibrator that we used to sell for about $150. A new model came out about a year ago so it's on sale now online for $47. Can confirm that shipping is discreet and they have a really good warranty, just keep the packaging.

*(I'm not sponsored to say that and nobody is paying me rn, it's just a legit good deal.)

2. There are essentially three bases used for lube: Water, Oil, and Silicone. Oil breaks down any materials other than glass or metal, and Silicone breaks down Silicone toys and sometimes condoms. Water is safe for everything but tends to dry out, so people don't like it- but if you add water or spit, drying water-based lube will slick right back up.

3. If your water-based lube has given you any itching, tightening, or burning sensations, you probably have a chemical sensitivity. Obviously everyone has different preferences, but my number one recommendation is Water Slide- it's a super reasonable price compared to other lubes, it feels natural, it's incredibly gentle on the skin, and it doesn't stain sheets.

**(Again, I'm not being paid for this. By anyone. At all. I'm just sick of hearing people come in and tell me they don't use lube cause it hurts, or that they're using fucking coconut oil in their vagina. Please, God, don't put coconut oil in your vagina.)

4. A lot of massage oils use almond oil to suspend other ingredients, and warming products sometimes use cinnamon. Always, always, always check people's allergies.

5. You can buy toys off cheap sites if you want, just be wary of quality and ALWAYS read the product description. I personally wouldn't buy anything that isn't Silicone, stainless steel, or glass, because unlike jelly, plastic, "fantaflesh", and Silicon, (which is NOT Silicone!!!) They are non-porous, sterile, and don't melt in contact with each other. This means that as long as you clean them properly and don't use the wrong lubes, they will not hold bacteria or break down, which makes them safe for both you to reuse and your partner/s to share. (And to switch between front door/back door, so long as you wash before going back to front.)

6. Cotton and polyester bondage rope are cheap and great to practice with. Silk sounds fancy and is very strong but be advised that a lot of silk rope is "Silk(TM)", not actual silk. Read the product description. (I personally am reluctant to spend more than about $2 per foot for mass-produced synthetic rope, but could be persuaded to pay more for ACTUAL silk, nylon, handmade ropes, or especially attractive colors/patterns/textures.) You want your rope to be at least as thick as your thumb and layered to avoid lacerations, and taut (not stretchy) to be sure you're in control of how much pressure you're putting on.

7. Choking someone by pressing on the windpipe is painful and inefficient. If you want to, stay very, very light, as it's a very delicate area. If you want a head rush, press down on the sides of the windpipe, just below the corners of their lower jaw. You will feel a pulse there. That's the carotid artery. It carries oxygen to the brain. Pressing there will allow them to breathe, but will still "choke" the air going to their head. It's faster and painless. Only hold this for 3-4 seconds if you lack experience. It takes just under 15 seconds to make someone pass out from a blood choke, and after that you risk causing *permanent brain damage*. If your partner passes out, release pressure immediately and keep their airways clear. If you're the one being choked, know that your only warning will be spotty vision and a dizzy sensation. Communicate with your partner/s and for the love of God, do your research first. I'm not a doctor. Please God, please do your research.

8. Don't reduce blood flow to any part of the body for more than 20 minutes. This includes cock rings. Take a break for an hour between uses.

9. Most 'dick pills' are just a stimulant, a mild vasodilator, and a placebo. Usually mostly caffeine. They are not worth $20 apiece. Take a minute to meditate, have a hot shower, drink some black tea, have a coffee, go for a run, whatever- you'll get the same effect. And no, there is not a single ethical and legal sex shop in the country that can sell you viagra. You would have better luck on Facebook. Do not buy viagra on Facebook.

10. There are no "male toys" and "female toys". Your only limitations are safety and creativity. If youre sticking something into something else, just make sure everything is clean, not too big, not sharp or abrasive, and can be taken back out.

11. If something "goes missing" in your vagina and you panic, you muscles will tense up and it'll it'll harder to get back. Relax and stand up. Wait a minute. Chill. Calm down. Jump a couple times. There's nowhere for it to go and worst case scenario, I promise the emergency walk-in has seen something weirder or worse in the past hour or so.

12. You cannot return toys that you buy and don't like and I swear to God if you come into my store with an opened product and try to give it back I will lose my shit

13. Actually while I'm at it, people who work at sex shops are more often than not not sex workers and even if they were, it would still not be appropriate to flash or grope them or ask them "what they use", I will run you over in the fucking parking lot

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Red Lights

Summary: You're getting manhandled in a motel room 🤝🏻

Pairing: The Demon x afab!Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat!, No Plot Only Porn 18+!, Smoking (Weed), Intoxication Kink, Slapping, Degradation/Humiliation/Praise, Crying (Dacryphilia), Oral (M Receiving), Breath Play, Pet Names/Honorifics (Princess, Daddy, Slut, Whore etc.), Cheating

A/N: So I watched Strange Darling yesterday :>

Tagging: @blueberrypancakesworld

Round and heavy tears pricked at your lower lash line before eventually welling over already-smeared streaks of mascara and eyeshadow and trickling down the sides of your face. The droplets ran past the curve of your ear until they eventually ended up soaking into crumpled sheets that had been washed with cheap chemical bleach a thousand times in the last month alone.

“Oh, look at you…” Your glazed-over gaze shot up, your body suddenly remembering the pressure squeezing down on your ribcage made you gasp for air out of pathetic instinct.

“So mushy and pliable today, baby.” The man who had introduced himself to you as Samuel months ago huffed in a painfully dismissive scoff.

You knew just as well as he did that the name he'd given you was an alias, a cheap cover to keep your lives from bleeding into one another too much. However, you had started wondering how necessary this act of play pretend still was because the two of you had simply skipped the part of slowly growing on each other and instead ended up fused together at the hip whenever possible - or hip to rib cage-like right now.

You stared up at him whilst he looked down, a crooked smile acknowledged how you fought to keep your little sniffles and sobs muffled.

“Need me to make it all better again, yeah?” You nodded slowly, head moving between cuffed arms that were tightly bound to the metal bed frame that was just as lacklustre as this whole rancid motel room.

“Use your words.” Samuel's free hand came flying down, the entire palm slapping against your already reddened cheek with enough force to likely leave an imprint.

“Mhm, need you to make it better, sir.” Your mouth dropped open upon impact, a thick string of saliva spilling over your bottom lip as your head lolled to the side and you winced.

“There you go. Taught you better than that.” For good measure and his sadistic pleasure, he smacked your other cheek as well, forcing your throbbing head back in his direction.

“ ‘M sorry, sir.” You felt the dollops of spit slowly growing cold against your chin; your normal reaction would've been to wipe it away but you knew he wanted you to sit with the uncomfortable sensation.

“Uh-Huh. Yeah, blah blah.” Samuel wrapped his hand along your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to ridicule whilst the other held a thick lighter to the tip of an equally thick joint.

It took but a few gentle puffs until the distinct smell crept into your nostrils, your facial expression pleading for some of it immediately.

With slightly widened eyes, you watched Samuel inhale deeply, filling his lungs with the fragrant smog until he stifled his breath and leaned down, arching his back in an almost impossible hunch downwards.

His plush lips hung in the air, right in front of your quivering mouth as calm, slightly droopy blue eyes inspected you. Quietly, you opened up, burning eyes fluttering shut as the herbal taste spread over a tongue that darted out like that of a dog panting in heat.

“And another one, babe.” Samuel started feeding you hit after hit, the chemical compounds seeping into your bloodstream within minutes and making you giggle as your whole body erupted in waves of comforting warmth.

“There she is.” The striking blue of his eyes got only accentuated by increasingly bloodshot lashlines as he sat back up, saving the rest of the spliff for later; god and he knew that you'd need it after he was done with you.

“That feels much better now, doesn't it?” He asked with a sly grin ghosting over his face and you nodded, your head feeling comfortably heavy and floaty.

“Good girl, now let me help you with that cottonmouth, princess.” Following his fingers, your eyes fell down to his crotch, a significant bulge already pressing against the fabric of tight black jeans.

Samuel palmed at himself through the fabric, shamelessly groaning out as a tide of pleasure washed through his lower abdomen, easily rendering him hungry for more.

“Open up for Daddy.” He pulled at the golden zipper, nimble and slender fingers freeing himself from the staggeringly uncomfortable confines.

It was pathetic, the way the saliva started flooding at the bottom of your mouth, slick moisture pooling from right underneath your tongue as the swollen and soft-to-the-touch tip of his pulsing cock brushed against your bottom lip.

“Such a whore for me.”, In one languid thrust Samuel spearheaded into the wet warmth of your mouth until you gagged just a little, “I know, shhh, I know. Issok.”

“No need to think. Let Daddy fuck your pretty face for a bit.” He'd conditioned you way too good already, it only needed a soft sprinkle of all your very favourite trigger words before you drifted off into comforting subspace, lips closing down around his girth as a new gush tears formed at the corners of your eyes.

“There, there…” Samuel's hips moved against your face.

If it hadn’t been for the layer of fabric, he'd shoves his aching cock down your throat until you'd gargle around a mouthful of curly, brown pubes.

“Gotta pick up the pieces again, don’t I?”, He uttered, watching the spit squelch and smear around your lipstick-stained lips, “Can’t fucking make sense how he can keep ignoring you. Daft bastard.”

You felt your oesophagus constricted around his dick, muscles slightly spasming as he bullied your dangling uvula against the roof of your throat.

“Playing with everything except you, no?”, He clicked his tongue and furrowed his brows, belittling not you but your straying boyfriend, “But don't you worry, sweets. You come to me and I'll give you all the things he won't do for you. Fuck you double and thrice for every time something is more interesting than you are.”

His wretched words dribbled down on you like a perverted shower of affection, causing your oozing cunt to clench around nothing.

“Can't have a pretty thing like you idle and miserable.”, His fingers pinched at your nose, shutting off any airflow, “Come on, suck me off, slut.”

Samuel rolled his waist against your head, his hips snapping back and forth in a brutal pace but the mellowing THC lacing your bloodstream kept the surge of panic at bay. Instead, you gave in to the rising dizziness, your conscience fighting with the aching burn inside your lungs that tried to gasp for air around his throbbing cock.

“Always so fucking good for Daddy, yeah.” He groaned under his breath, sensing how his balls started contracting, white-hot ropes of cum shooting against the back of your throat and right past the root of your tongue.

Samuel wasn't even done unloading himself on your mouth as he pulled back - rather safe than sorry - as he smeared milky droplets along your bottom lip.

“Breathe for me, baby.” To pull you out of your fucked-out trance, he landed a swift smack against your cheek, his spit and cum coated cock twitching underneath your chin.

The brief sting had your ribcage rising with much-needed oxygen but the clarity wasn't meant for you for long: Your blurry sight narrowed down on the halfway naked man towering above you - lighter in hand and the rest of the joint already back at grinning lips.

[astralnymphh]

ellie trying on those pheromones perfumes ? like those sex ones 😭😭

thought abt this days ago.. guess I manifested this ask in a way!!! MDNI ✰ . . not a full smut but highly suggestive. could be a smut tho if someone asks, wink wonk.

ellie knowss she doesn't neeed a fancy elixir or a spell to woo you over any day, however. to rouse you up further than usual? now that's an experiment worth her adherence.

spritz, spritz– goes the pumps of a perfume bottle, the only perfume ellie will ever meet palm to plastic with. the only time her plender gap will ever taste the chemicals and hints of rosy luxury. now, intentionally forgetting she even puffed some of that shit on, she just relaxes. she waits. lounging upon your shared bed, attired in a tight ribbed tank that sports an eye–candy viewing of her muscles, mhh, and a pair of loose plaid boy shorts. forearms press arrant to her ribs, extending down to her pelvis– controller in hand. her eyes pore over that large television screen blaring with a multitude of hues, totally mind bent to the game she plays.

then, you roll in. languid after a full shift of working, you plop down. face to cotton, you take a whaff in of freshly washed sheets, nose smudged against the cushiony material. next, you scurry over like sludge and pulp into a sweat puddle atop your girlfriend– knee tucked between hers, crotch plane and dimpling against her firm thigh, nosedived into the angled nook of her scruff. you take another whiff, wait, where did the lovely scent of her perspiration go? all that buries a hole in your nose is something rosy, a sapid rose smell. a flare of sensations unlocks in your loins. for an aphrodisiac has aquilined your mind– and your cunt, to its rein. caught under a spell. you crisp your tone, "babe, why do you smell like a flower shop?" that, ignites the memory back in ellie. yet she fiddles innocence, husking with a chuckle, "huh, dunno' what you mean." you frown, brows declined, "m'not dumb, els, why the fuck do you smell so good. you legit never touched perfume in your life." tapping a small button, ellie pauses the game, veering her head slightly to gape at you. on comes a ridiculous question, "d'ya not like it?"

els knew what adventure she donned upon her skin the moment her knuckles bent on that perfume nozzle, she knew how it might having you purring wanton with both lips. might, cause she's definitely a tinge of skeptic. so it was no surprise when you rollicked your butt on the crests of her pelvis, forcing threadbare kisses on her gracious pink lips, flushing your knuckles of pigment as you press them into her hips– laughing like a whinnying unicorn when ellie dandles plushy volumes of your ass in her grippy digits, whacking her wrist back to land short–timed blows to ripple on the pigment plentiful cheek, no doubt sore. a playful makeout. her own hoarsey chuckles vibrate on your lips, her kisses sweeter than honeydew squeezing when she purses. you continue a giggle, struggling to peel the band of her shorts due to the applied friction pinning it down, "ellie! c'monn.. m'wanna take your shorts off–" she counters, "why baby? tell me why.." and breaks off into a chuckle as well, as her question was fraudulent. the answer lingers hard on her brain. you whine, "baaabee.. i wanna eat your pussy.." and she just muses, cooing, "ohh, you do? yeah? lick this pussy up n' make ellie cum? ohohohh~" a deeper laugh murks her melody, "think ellie really wants that baby, needs that slutty little tongue– mhmm.." she accentuates her own name with airy speech, ardent on your mid–face. her clammy hands imprinting a hot compress to your ass–crease slowly slide out and travel the rump, pressure tender as milk given when she cups your waist gently. antsy as a sex spell can make one, you slowly begin to mooch your hips down her thighs, only for her tender grip to turn– sharp, lodging you in place.

"excuse you, did i tell you t'go down there?" a picky grin pricks her cheeks, teeth bore. you reply bumbly, "but– you said– uh!" another slap enlists to your cheek, hitching a stone in your larynx. she reprimands, strictly in such a dewey smooth voice, "nuh–uh, gimme' a show first, show me how you'll play with my pussy, on yours."

(pic by me)

[spcleaningcanada]

Pressure Washing Chemicals for Green Cleaning Solutions

In an era of environmental consciousness, traditional cleaning methods are being replaced with sustainable alternatives. Pressure washing, widely recognized for its effectiveness in cleaning stubborn stains and dirt, is no exception. By incorporating eco-friendly pressure washing chemicals into your cleaning routine, you can achieve excellent results while protecting the environment.

This article explores the world of green cleaning solutions and provides essential tips to use pressure washing chemicals effectively.

Understanding Green Cleaning Solutions

What Are Green Cleaning Solutions? Green cleaning solutions are products formulated to minimize environmental impact. They are biodegradable, free from harsh toxins, and safe for plants, animals, and humans. When combined with pressure washing, these chemicals can clean surfaces effectively without compromising sustainability.

Why Choose Green Cleaning Solutions?

Environmental Protection: These chemicals reduce the release of harmful substances into waterways and soil.

Health Benefits: Unlike traditional chemicals, eco-friendly options do not emit harmful fumes, ensuring safer use for operators and bystanders.

Regulatory Compliance: Many jurisdictions promote or mandate the use of green cleaning agents to meet environmental standards.

Common Green Chemicals for Pressure Washing

Citrus-Based Cleaners: Derived from natural citrus oils, these cleaners effectively remove grease and grime while leaving a fresh scent.

Sodium Percarbonate: Known for its bleaching properties, this chemical tackles mold and mildew without harmful chlorine.

Vinegar-Based Solutions: A natural disinfectant, vinegar is effective for light cleaning and deodorizing surfaces.

Enzyme Cleaners: These break down organic matter, making them ideal for areas with pet stains, food residue, or grease.

Tips to Use Pressure Washing Chemicals

Understand the Surface Before applying any pressure washing chemical, assess the material. Different surfaces, such as wood, concrete, or metal, require specific cleaning agents to avoid damage.

Dilution is Key Most green pressure washing chemicals come in concentrated forms. Follow the manufacturer’s guidelines for dilution to maintain effectiveness and safety.

Test in a Small Area Always test the solution on an inconspicuous area before cleaning the entire surface. This ensures compatibility and avoids unintended discoloration or damage.

Apply Pre-Treatment For heavily soiled areas, apply the chemical and let it sit for a few minutes to loosen dirt and grime. This reduces the effort needed during the actual pressure washing.

Use Proper Equipment Choose a pressure washer with adjustable settings to ensure the chemicals are applied evenly without excessive force, which can harm delicate surfaces.

Rinse Thoroughly After using the cleaning chemicals, rinse the area with water to remove any residue. This step is essential to prevent streaking and to protect surrounding vegetation.

Dispose of Waste Responsibly Collect and dispose of wastewater properly, especially if it contains residues that might affect local ecosystems. Use biodegradable options to minimize environmental impact.

Benefits of Using Green Pressure Washing Chemicals

Protecting Ecosystems Unlike traditional chemicals, green solutions break down naturally, ensuring minimal harm to water sources and wildlife.

Sustainability in Cleaning Using biodegradable products supports the global shift toward sustainable practices, reducing reliance on petrochemicals and other harmful substances.

Enhanced Safety Operators using green chemicals are less exposed to irritants, allergens, and harmful toxins, leading to a healthier cleaning environment.

Improved Aesthetics Many eco-friendly chemicals are designed to clean effectively without leaving behind residues or streaks, ensuring a spotless finish.

Challenges and Overcoming Them

Higher Initial Cost Some eco-friendly chemicals might be pricier than traditional options. However, their concentration often means you need less product per job, balancing the cost in the long term.

Limited Availability In certain regions, finding high-quality green cleaning solutions may be challenging. Opt for reputable online suppliers or local eco-friendly retailers to access these products.

Learning Curve Using eco-friendly chemicals might require adjustments in cleaning techniques. Stay informed by reading product labels and consulting resources for best practices.

Future Trends in Green Cleaning with Pressure Washing

Innovation in Formulas: Advances in green chemistry are leading to even more effective, eco-friendly cleaning agents.

Smart Pressure Washing Systems: Integrating AI and IoT in pressure washing equipment can optimize chemical usage and minimize waste.

Increased Regulation: Governments worldwide are likely to enforce stricter laws favoring eco-friendly products, making green cleaning the industry norm.

Conclusion

Transitioning to green cleaning solutions with pressure washing chemicals is not just an environmental responsibility but also a smart business and personal choice. With the right techniques and products, you can achieve the same high standards of cleanliness while contributing to a healthier planet. Remember these tips to use pressure washing chemicals effectively to ensure safety, efficiency, and sustainability in your cleaning efforts.

By embracing green practices today, you are paving the way for a cleaner, greener tomorrow.

[crowncleaning]

Unlocking the Power of Pressure Washing Chemicals for a Spotless Clean - At Crown Cleaning Systems, we're your go-to source for comprehensive solutions to maintain the impeccable cleanliness of your business premises. In addition to supplying top-tier commercial and industrial pressure washers, we proudly offer a range of high-powered pressure-washing chemicals. Our cleaning chemicals, detergents, and degreasers are not only exceptionally effective in tackling dirt and grime, but they also prioritize environmental responsibility. They are biodegradable and butyl-free, ensuring that your cleaning efforts are tough on stains while being gentle on the planet. This commitment to safety and sustainability means you can rely on our pressure washing chemicals to provide a thorough and eco-friendly clean for your business space.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Grad school Spencer in his little white coat and glasses getting his chem PhD and he just spills everything and goes 🫠 because he sees English lit major reader walking by from the lap window.

because I will die on the hill that this actually happened.

hiiiii 💕

like 23 year old phd candidate spencer in his white lab coat is everything to me and i took some liberties so bear with me :)

spencer reid x female reader

So he’s working in his lab doing something sciencey and smart

He’s already a phd in math and engineering which makes him something a myth in his departments

Part of his program makes him work as a TA for a chemistry course which is how he meets you

You’re a Literature major and Sociology minor and in his Chemistry class. It’s filled with many students, but Spencer wouldn’t need an eidetic memory to remember you

He never found the courage to talk to you, thinking that you’ve probably already have a boyfriend on a count for how pretty and smart you are.

Every Tuesday and Thursday he sees you walk by his lab. He forces himself to not recognize the pattern, but it’s impossible when you’re so magnetic to look at and think about and patterns are so recognizable to his brain. And out of risk of you thinking he’s a stalker, he decides it’s safer if he ignores you walk by

What Spencer doesn’t realize is that you’ve also noticed his pattern of being in the lab the same days you’re in the Sociology wing.

One day he’s busy his lab, and he can see you through the big picture window. He feels his hands grip the beaker and his grateful that the chemical liquids he’s working with today are something as simple as water

As he gazes through the big window he watches you walk with a big stack books in you arms

He walks to the sink, needing an extra 30mLs of water in his beaker, but as his does he accidentally trips over a stool and crashes to the floor

He jumps up, and sees you look at him in horror. Which wasn’t the way he planned on you looking at him (he forced the thoughts of the various ways you could look at him from his mind)

Suddenly you rush into the lab and just as Spencer tries to stammer about maintaining proper hygiene protocols in the lab, your hands are gripping his wrist

“You’re bleeding” you say, and Spencer watches as you maintain steady, tight pressure on his open wound to stop the bleeding

“I didn’t realize” Spencer says with a stained smile. He’s planned on how he’d approach you over and over again in his mind ever since he saw you in the Chemistry class he TA’ed last semester “I was preoccupied”

“It’s alright, Doctor Reid. You’re not going to need stitches or anything. But let me put some bandaging on it.”

Spencer gulps, as he tries to remember how to breathe. All he can focus on is how your hair frames your face perfectly and how your perfume smells like earl grey tea and honey and apples

“You can call me Spencer, Y/N” He whispers, listening to as you practically drag him by the wrist to the first aid kit

“You know my name?” You ask, a look or wonder and amusement washes over your face

Spencer jerks his head back not in pain nor in discomfort, but rather in confusion. “Of course I do, why wouldn’t I know your name. You’re Y/N.”

You lick your bottom lip as a small smile plays on the corner of your mouth. “there were a lot of students in your class last semester. I’m not very good at chemistry. Nor do I have a particularly memorable face.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows in disbelief. You gently placed a bandage on his cut. “You did very well in the class. And as for your face, it’s very memorable. More than memorable, honestly. It’s gorgeous—oh, no I didn’t—I don’t intend to be forward…”

“I think you got a memorable face too, Doc” You say, smiling as you sit knee to knee on the lab stools

“It’s Spencer,” He says, blushing as he nudged his hand forward to just barely touch yours

You stand, smiling as you do so, “Doc suits you. You’re kinda a legend and you’re really cute when you flush like that when I call you Doc”

[prettieinpink]

Hi I really love ur blog and I was wondering if you have any tips about nails, bc my nails grow long but are so flimsy that they keep breaking off and bending easily, no pressure or anything

♡♡♡

GUIDE TO TAKING CARE OF NAILS

DAILY CARE

Avoid nail polishes that contain formaldehyde and dibutyl phthalate as they can cause your nails to weaken over time. Highly pigmented polishes can also cause weak nails. To avoid this, take breaks from nail polish and go natural from time to time. 

Use cuticle oils frequently, which varies from the condition of your nails. If you don’t have cuticle oil, vaseline or a lip balm is a good alternative.

Keep your nails away from dirty or wet environments. Dirt can nurture the growth of bacteria and wet nails are weak nails. If you have to be doing things that include excessive moisture or dirt, try to wear gloves of any kind.

Stop biting your nails and picking at them. While both are difficult habits to break, both can destroy the health of your nails. Be very mindful of how you treat your nails.

Wash your hands thoroughly when needed. Before and after you eat, you go to the loo, you handle food etc. When we wash our hands, The grime under our nails is also being washed away.

Nails are not tools. Don’t use them to open cans, remove stickers or open boxes. This will weaken them in the long run and increase the chances of them being chipped or broken. Use the provided tools you have instead.

Avoid prolonged exposure to harsh chemicals like cleaning products or acetone-based products. They can strip your nails of moisture which causes breakage

WEEKLY (AT-HOME) MANICURE

If you have nail polish on, don’t peel or pick at it but use a nail-friendly nail polish remover gently with a cotton pad/ball.

After that, if needed, file or trim your nails to your desired length. For smooth cutting, wipe down your nails with a wet cotton ball or wipe. 

Get a bowl of warm water and soap to soak your cuticles in. Then use a soft brush or a clean toothbrush to gently exfoliate your nails. You can usually use a little bit of your body scrub or a tad bit of sugar. Then, dry your hands & nails with a small microfiber towel.

Apply cuticle oil or any cream to moisturise your nails, then massage that it for a few minutes to stimulate nail growth.

Apply your polishes in the correct order. Base coat, nail polish then top coat. 

Moisturise with a nice hand cream! 

[erwinsvow]

there’s an outdoor shower at the chateau—a tiny thing, really, just three planks of wood and the wall of john b’s home where the showerhead is attached. the water pressure depends on the day, depends on if anyone is using the bathroom inside the house or if jj accidentally left the faucet in the kitchen running. 

there’s a rusty hook where clothes can be hung if the other shower was occupied, and the towel is always thrown just over the door opposite the water so it doesn’t get too wet.

you are well accustomed to this shower. you know exactly how to hang your towel to avoid the waterfall, where to avoid stepping because the rocks get slippery. sometimes the door opens up by itself, the result of old hinges and worn out screws, but you don’t pay it much mind, because after all, it’s nothing the boys haven’t seen before.

you’d consider yourself still decent, even showering like this. your bikini was filled with grains of sand, the result of being pushed around at the beach by jj and pope for the last hour. there’s a huge sandy hand print on your shoulder from where john b had helped you up, and you let the water wash it away with a smile. 

you’re sandy everywhere, but that’ll have to wait until you’re back home. you wash your hair with the cheap shampoo sitting on the ground, the three-in-one you and kiara beg the boys to dispose of. 

but at the very least you feel clean, rinsing the suds from your scalp and watching them run down your body and then onto the ground, draining into the grass. you’ve been spending too much time with kie—your first thought is that you hope this stuff doesn’t leach chemicals into the soil.

lost in the warmth since you’re the first to shower and the boys haven’t used up all the hot water yet, you close your eyes and forget the door’s opened by itself. you think it doesn’t matter since everyone’s at pope’s already. you were the only one who insisted on showering before joining them, promising you’ll bike over after ten minutes, though pope reassures the others it’ll be at least twenty-five.

there’s a voice coming from the backyard, rafe thinks, stalking further and further into the shoddy little house. the land wasn’t terrible, right on the lake, but the place was anything but well kept, a mess of missing shingles and splintered wood. he stops thinking about the house as soon as the voice becomes clearer, the further he steps into the back. he was here to convey a message to the pogues that call this place home, but no one that he wanted to find was around.

stepping in mud and grass, he walks to the backyard, a pretty voice filling the humid air. you’re singing something he doesn’t know, something that sounds vaguely familiar. maybe something ward used to play on the record player in the study, back when rafe used to spend time with him.

you, whoever you are, sound nice, even muffled by the sound of the running water. when rafe gets closer, he sees there’s no door blocking his view to a pretty girl washing her hair and singing softly. you’re in nothing but a yellow bikini, showing him all too much but at the same time not entirely enough.

he’s not sure how long he stood there. it must have been some time, because when you twist the shower knob and stop the water, turning to grab your towel, you see rafe and curse loudly, shoulders raising in fear by themselves. 

you stand like that for a moment before realizing rafe is staring, probably because you’re in a tiny, wet bikini. you yank the towel and cover yourself.

“can i help you?” you demand, the sweet voice all gone. even if you didn’t recognize rafe, the clothes he wore and his expensive shoes covered in the dirt of the chateau’s grounds were a dead giveaway. 

“yeah. m’lookin’ for the idiots that live here. seen them around?”

“no. goodbye.” he laughs at that. eyes raking over your body again. you’re covered now but still feel exposed, like he can see through your towel.

“funny, kid. when you see ‘em give them a message from me, will ya?” 

“leave a voicemail like a normal person. i’m not your messen-”

“yeah, yeah. tell your boys we know what they did.” you stare back at him, confused by what he means but angry at the intrusion and the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. “sure. whatever that means. are you all done being a stalker now?” he laughs again.

“we’ll see. bye kid.”