#vibrating screen manufacturers

[wiremeshes]

How Perforated Sheets Are Redefining Modern Manufacturing

In modern manufacturing, Perforated sheet are transforming product design and functionality. Their versatile designs enhance both performance and aesthetics across industries like construction and aerospace. From improving airflow and noise reduction to offering customizable patterns, perforated sheets are reshaping manufacturing processes. This article explores their significant impact and the role of manufacturers in driving innovation.

[intechbulks]

Intech Bulk Handling Systems Pvt. Ltd. provides high-quality material handling solutions, such as coal and ash handling plants, dust collectors, vibrating screens, chain conveyors, and belt conveyors. Trusted globally, we offer competitive prices and superior products. Whether you require coal handling plant manufacturers or vibrating screen manufacturers in India, count on Intech Engineers for efficient solutions!

[xinxiangsanyuantang]

Expert Tips for Choosing the Best Vibrating Screen Manufacturer

Are you in the market for a new vibrating screen for your industrial or mining operation? Choosing the right vibrating screen manufacturer is crucial to ensure you get a high-quality product that meets your specific needs.

[xingdoumachine]

Top Vibrating Screen Manufacturer Company

Choose top Vibrating Screen Manufacturer company that prioritizes quality, reliability, and customer satisfaction above all else. Xinxiang Xingdou offers a wide range of vibrating screen, best for improved quality control, cost-effective solution, increased productivity, and customizable options. For more information call us @ +86 18236126017

[gyroscreenindia]

Vibrating Screen Machine supplier and manufacturer in India

We are leading Vibrating Screen supplier and manufacturer in India. Vibrating screens are found in various industries and serve as components for material separation and quality control. We Offer best in class vibrating screen machine product range. Our range of machine includes Vibrating Screen, Circular Vibrating Screen, Horizontal Vibrating Screen, and Motorized Vibrating Screen.

[kvmetalgoldcrush]

Buy Jaw Crusher Manufacturers at Best Price in Indore

As the industry develops, the need for aggregate rises, bringing in a period of rapid growth for the sand sector. Sand Making Machine, as the core equipment of the sand making assembly line, has more variations to better adapt to the evolution due to each user’s various production demands.

[magieaareal]

1000*3000mm Air Cooled Linear Vibrating Screen for Detergent. E-mail: sale@aarealmachine.com   WhatsApp: 0086-15637361027

[maheshnaani]

Concrete Batching Plants Manufacturers

BuildMate is a strong technology oriented, high-tech engineering project and execution company providing technology and supply of machinery and equipment for Building Material projects. We are among the top manufacturers in the world for AAC Plants, Crusher Plants, Dry Mix mortar Plants, Horizontal Shaft Impact Crusher, VSI Crushers, Batching Plants, Mixers and have considerable experience in creating other building material plants and machinery. We are one the leading manufacturer and supplier of Concrete Batching Plants. These Batching Plants are manufactured with very high quality products

[wiremeshes]

Vibrating Screens and Renewable Energy: How Screening Solutions Boost Sustainable Power

As we transition to greener energy, Vibrating Screen are crucial technology. Often overlooked, these screens enhance efficiency in renewable energy projects. Vibrating screen manufacturers provide essential equipment for wind, solar, biomass, and hydropower industries. Innovations like Wedge Wire Screens and efficient screening solutions help improve material processing and support sustainability. As demand for clean energy rises, these vare key to achieving our environmental goals.

Read More:https://iganony.uk/vibrating-screen/

[panmixer]

hardic engineering is manufacturers, Suppliers of automatic sand mixer muller machine, pan mixer machine, vibrating screen machine, automatic sand mixer muller manufacturers in ahmedabad - gujarat - india.

[xinxiangsanyuantang]

Buy Vibrating Screen Separator

Enhance your material processing with our vibrating screen separator, designed for efficient separation and classification of various materials. Upgrade your operations today with this essential tool!

Link: https://sanyuantangcn.com/products/vibrating-screen-separator.

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 2. (read part 1 here) tags: dubcon

-

There’s a photo of you taped up on the inside of his locker. 

The glimpse you catch of it is quick. Not like you aren’t meant to see it, but more like Johnny’s so unconcerned with whether you see it or not that he doesn’t bother to make a show of it. Just reaches into his locker to grab his lunch and shuts it while you’re still gaping at the polaroid of someone that looks suspiciously like you in your store uniform. You hear someone clear their throat and you glance up, flinching when you meet Johnny’s eyes.

“Missing me already?” he teases, winking. “I’ll be back on the floor as soon as possible. ‘Promise, hen.”

“It’s not—” 

He’s already out the door and on the way to the lunchroom before you’re able to get the rest of your sentence out. 

Johnny seems to have a sixth sense for when you’re about to spurn his advances. Any other day he would have stuck around to listen to the rest of your sentence, but when he has an inkling that those words will be tinged by the flavour of rejection, he’s quick to book it. You privately have to admit it’s not a terrible strategy. It’s not often that you’re able to get the words out. 

It’s one of those rare shifts where you’re clocking in later than Johnny, missing his lunch break. Small mercies. It doesn’t mean much because your schedules still overlap a significant amount, but it does mean that you won’t be forced to choke down your lunch while Johnny sits opposite you at the lunch table and stares you down the entire half hour. 

“Wait, that was so fucking cute,” someone says from behind you. You turn on your heel to find a coworker staring at Johnny’s locker, properly enchanted by whatever she saw. Practically swooning. 

“What is?”

“Didn’t you see the picture he has of you? In his locker?” She says it with emphasis, giving you a significant look. 

“Yeah…I…don’t you think it’s a bit…like, weird?” you ask her, making sure to keep your voice low in case Johnny is still around the corner. You can’t help the way you glance down the hallway.

She frowns. “It’s cute. He’s like, smitten with you. I’ve never seen him with a crush on anyone before and I’ve worked with him for over a year. I think it’s kind of nice. Do you not like him or something?”

“Well, I just…we aren’t even dating and I think…I think he even has a photo of me as his lock screen—”

“Because if you aren’t interested in him, you should let him down now. It’s not fair of you to just string him along, you know. He’s a really good guy.”

You’re not sure about the whole good guy thing. Johnny acts like a nice guy most of the time, but you’ve had the unfortunate luck in getting to experience the other side of him.

The problem lies in the fact that Johnny is, you think, a genuinely likeable guy to everyone else. It’s not like your coworkers are all collectively wrong in their opinion of him—he really is an excellent coworker. A good sport, a funny guy; he lends a hand whenever someone needs help. He helped Jeff move two weeks ago, drove Daryl to the airport last Saturday, and looked after Sonya’s cat while she was away on vacation that one time. 

It’s with you that his good-time nature evaporates; his lazy, drawled predilection for joking around and indulging himself and others in a good ribbing replaced by a weird, manufactured kindness. Almost sickly sweet. He lays it on so thick around others that they think you experience the same friendship with Johnny that the rest of them get to enjoy. 

Not so.

None of them catch the way he’s always hovering, always staring at you. Eyes half-lidded; bedroom eyes in the middle of your shift, in the middle of the workplace. 

None of your coworkers are around when you’re at the register one day and Johnny takes his break to make a couple purchases, coming to your cash with a basket full of chocolate, wine, condoms, body butter, and batteries. No one except him notices the way you pause at the last item.

“Dinnae ken if your vibrator was rechargeable or not,” he says when you look at him funny, a big grin stretched across his face. Blue eyes gleaming almost feverishly. “Thought I’d be prepared either way.”

You scan his items in silence. When you hand him his bag, you try not to shudder when he purposefully glances his hand over yours. 

Worse are the days when Johnny comes in as a customer, the days when he’s off the schedule. When he shouldn’t even be at the store at all. No one notices the way he pesters you the entire time he’s in the store, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. If a coworker does happen to notice his presence (and how could they not when he’s such a formidable presence in any room, when he almost glows from the energy stockpiled in his body with nowhere else to go), he’ll make polite conversation, just long enough to not seem rude, before shifting his attention back to you. 

His conversation borders on interrogation. He asks you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners. He makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed. 

When you rebuff him one too many times, he’s not shy about telling you off. 

“Ye just need a good fuck ta sort ye out,” Johnny snarls when you brush off another invite out to lunch one day. It’s not often that he loses his temper with you, so his anger makes your eyes widen, your pulse pick up. During morning shift assignments, he’d corralled your manager into pairing the two of you up on curbside pick-up orders, meaning that you’ve been stuck with him for hours, nowhere else to go. 

“Excuse me?” you say, voice going up a decibel. 

He leans across the front of the cart loaded with flowerpots and gardening tools. “I get it, hen. No one at home ta play with your pussy, huh? No choice but ta come into work all pent up and frustrated—”

“This is in like, the outer Hebrides of ‘none of your business’—”

“—clit’s probably all swollen too. Fuck.” He breathes out heavily through his nose, eyes darkening. “No wonder you’re always pissed off. I’d be too if I dinnae have a little replacement pussy at home.”

“You’re the reason I’m upset in the first place, Johnny.”

“Aw, I ken, bonnie,” he says with a pout, eyebrows slanting down like he really, truly pities you, the gesture immediately contradicted by his next words. “Promise I’ll make it better. Wanna meet outside my truck in a half hour?” 

You storm off before it comes to blows. Not that it’d ever be a fair fight. Johnny would probably hold you away with his palm against your head while you swung at him uselessly. You try not to think of that too often. Of him toying with you. Most of your interactions feel like that these days. Like he’s a big cat holding your tail down when you try to scramble away. 

When you beg your manager to switch shift assignments, the look you get could wilt flowers. It’s not completely your fault, even if your request is a bit inconveniencing. Johnny has your coworkers and management so wrapped around his finger that no one can even hazard a guess as to why you might be uncomfortable around him. 

It’s the only reason you haven’t complained to HR yet. There are channels and protocols for dealing with his behaviour, but watching people practically trip over themselves to please him reminds you that the likeliest outcome would be them transferring you to another store. It just doesn’t seem worth it.

You don’t think about how frazzled his words leave you for the rest of your shift. You don’t think about it because there’s nothing to think about. 

You know from the second that your manager reassigns you to women’s apparel that you’ve probably made a mistake. Customers buzz around you like gnats, like swarms of flies, and it’s only natural that you’d be compelled to swat a few. You hold on to the fraying edges of your patience with little finesse. About halfway through your shift, you get a stern talking to from your floor supervisor and put on an extra long break. You’re no less irritated when you get back though, somehow still agitated and snappy. 

Big hands clamp over your shoulders and squeeze like he’s giving you a massage, thumbs digging into the grooves of your upper back. He ignores the way you tense up.

“Hen, you’re making the customers uncomfortable with all your huffin’ and puffin’,” he whispers into your ear, a light chuckle falling out with his words. Amused by your attitude this time instead of ticked off. “If ye want, I could take ye ta the back room ta loosen ye up a bit. Make your day a little better. Dinnae think anybody will even notice if we dip away for a bit—’sides management will probably send me a gift basket if ye come back perky after a good shag.”

You shrug him off to go clock out, ignoring the way he chuckles as you storm off. No one knows if you go home and wear out the battery in your vibrator while thinking about Johnny’s words. Thinking about Johnny guiding you to his truck with a palm flat on your low back, pinkie teasing just under the waistband of your pants, before laying you out across the backseat and climbing on top of you.

You come when you think about how he’d have to keep the door open to fuck you in his car.

Unfortunately, you’re more than familiar with his sweet side as well. 

On your birthday, he comes in early with a sheet cake and organizes the employees so that the breakroom is dark when you come in. The entire staff is there when you switch on the lights, shouting your name and happy birthday, decked out in party hats and blowing into noisemakers.

It catches you off guard. Hits you right in the solar plexus and leaves you winded. You stand in the middle of the room like you’re under a spotlight and that spotlight is Johnny’s stare burning a hole in your head. For once, it doesn’t rankle. It leaves you feeling light, feathery, like floating down to earth. A coworker hands you a noisemaker and you smile until your eyes crinkle when you blow into it. 

You’re in a good enough mood that you don’t argue when he insists on sitting beside you. He got you the cake after all. Maybe it’s the least he deserves. Your goodwill lasts until Johnny tries to feed you a piece of cake with his fork; he winds up getting cake smushed all over your cheek when you turn your head away. 

“Johnny, ‘m not a baby,” you complain, wrinkling your nose when cake and icing slide down your face. “I can feed myself. This is so gross.”

“Shucks, hen, lemme get that. Shouldnae have turned your head,” Johnny curses, leaning over to scoop it off with his fingers. He holds them out to you, an offering. “Here ye go, kitty.”

You stare, horrified, until he shrugs like ‘suit yourself’ and pops them into his own mouth. Then drags the same spit covered fingers over your cheek again to keep cleaning you up. 

You can tell that it’s hopeless to complain by the way your coworkers giggle and gossip, eyes drawn to the two of you. Maybe it would be better if you were transferred. You only have so many ‘I’m not his work wife’s left in you. Something’s bound to give. You have a sneaking suspicion that it’s going to be you. 

On the walk to your car after your shift, which Johnny insists on doing like he does every time the two of you work a closing shift together, he jokingly asks if you’ve gotten your birthday spanks. He says it in that same awkward joking tone, just a bit too excited, staring at you too eagerly. Unblinking. Tuts his tongue when you tell him you’ve never heard of that before. 

You jolt and squeak at the pop on your ass when he insists on opening the door to your car and helping you in. The betrayed look you shoot him hardly penetrates through his shit-eating grin. 

“See ye tomorrow, kitty,” Johnny calls out, walking backwards away from you to where his truck is parked just a few spots away from yours. You think he would’ve parked right next to you if you hadn’t chosen a spot conveniently between two other cars. “More where that came from.”

Your hands shake against the steering wheel your whole drive home. Dreading tomorrow’s shift.

[yanderejustforyou]

Day 22: "No more holiday movies. Please." Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Kirishima x Reader

The flickering glow of the television screen painted the room in shifting shades of blue and gray, the light dancing across the textured wallpaper like restless spirits. Settling onto the plush cushions of the couch, you felt the familiar weight of exhaustion pull you down. It had been an evening at Kirishima's, a seemingly endless marathon of holiday cheer, the same cheesy Christmas movies cycling through the screen in a loop. The air, thick with the lingering scent of cinnamon and pine, was charged with a cozy, relaxed energy that seemed to radiate off everyone else. Laughter had echoed through the apartment, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the easy murmur of conversation. It was supposed to be a fun, relaxing night, but for you, it wasn't.

A tight coil of resentment curled in your stomach, a familiar knot of bitterness that seemed to bloom every year as December rolled around. The holidays were a cruel reminder, a gaudy spectacle of joy that highlighted everything you lacked – a sense of belonging, genuine warmth, a past that didn’t haunt you like a phantom. You watched the saccharine scenes play out on the screen, the happy endings a mocking contrast to the hollowness you felt inside. Each perfectly wrapped present and forced family moment was another pinprick to your already raw spirit. You hated these damn movies, these fabricated emotions, but Kirishima seemed utterly content, the picture of relaxation. He leaned against the couch, his body radiating heat, a soft smile playing on his lips. His arm, casually draped behind you, extended, pulling you slightly closer into his warmth. A small, traitorous part of you craved this connection, but the rest fought against it.

The longer you watched, the more the manufactured perfection chipped at your defenses, grating on your nerves. This wasn't your world, these aren't your feelings. Why can't I just enjoy something for once? you thought, the question tinged with self-deprecation and a profound sadness. It felt like watching a play, a beautiful, elaborate, and utterly alien performance.

Then, Kirishima’s voice cut through your turbulent thoughts, like a warm hand on a chilled surface. “Hey,” he murmured, his tone laced with a teasing softness, as if he knew you were teetering on the edge. "No more holiday movies. Please? It’s all been a bit much, right?" His gaze caught yours and the intensity in his red eyes bordered on smoldering, a silent challenge delivered with an almost predatory smile. It was a warning, a silent declaration that your internal retreat was over. He wasn’t going to let you withdraw further into your self-constructed prison of misery. Not tonight.

Before you could form a response, he grasped your wrist, the strength in his hand a stark contrast to the gentle touch he usually offered. The sudden tug, firm and calculated, pulled you towards him, the motion startling. His touch, even in its assertiveness, felt familiar, a warm brand against your skin, always protective in a way that stirred something deep within you, a flicker of vital energy. You leaned into him despite yourself, almost like a moth drawn to a flame.

"You're tense," he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that vibrated against your ear. "I can feel it." His fingers shifted, gently pressing into the rigid muscles of your shoulders, sending a sharp, almost painful, sensation down your spine. He was right, of course. Your body was a taut string, wound tight with frustration and unresolved emotions. You had buried them deep, hoping they would stay there, but Kirishima had a way of digging up the things you attempted to hide, peeling back the layers until you were raw and exposed.

"I don't need this right now, Kirishima," you stated through gritted teeth, the words laced with a hint of annoyance, but even in your denial, there was a tremor of something else, a desperate need, an ache you couldn't ignore. You weren't sure if it was emotional or physical, but the way his hands continued to press down, exploring, seeking out the knots and tensions, made you question everything. What am I even feeling? You wondered.

"No," he contradicted, his tone low and dangerous, his forehead pressing against yours. "You do need this. You need me to help you. To make it go away." The warmth of his breath tickled your ear, and the proximity made your heart pound like a trapped bird. His hands slid lower, the slight pressure both painful and pleasurable, a dizzying combination as he took control of your body. There was always a subtle power dynamic between you two, a delicate dance of dominance and submission, and the thrill that came with it was something you could never deny.

"You’re not going anywhere until you’re not tense anymore,” he whispered, his words laced with authority, his touch moving further, reminding you of the pain he could bring, the comfort he could give, the intricate web of connection that bound you together. A wave of heat crashed over you. This wasn't a request; it was a decree. You knew what was coming, every instinct screaming a warning, and yet, a strange, twisted sense of anticipation started to blossom. You didn't want it... yet you couldn't stop the fire from igniting in your chest. He had a knack for finding the triggers that made you ache with awareness, a blend of pain and pleasure that always left you wanting more.

"Fine," you breathed out, the word barely audible. "But just remember... you started this."

Kirishima chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "I know exactly what I’m doing."