#Junk Pick up service

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Red Rock junk removal excels in efficient Junk Pick-Up Services

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Emergency towing service in San Bernardino

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Junk Pick Up Service San Francisco

How Much Does Junk Removal Really Cost? Factors To Know Before Hiring A Service!

Hiring a junk pick up service San Francisco service can be a convenient solution when you need to get rid of unwanted items quickly and efficiently.

Whether decluttering your home, clearing out after a move, or managing construction debris, junk removal services save time and effort.

However, the cost of hiring a junk pick-up service can vary based on several factors. Understanding these factors will help you make an informed decision and avoid unexpected expenses. Here are five key factors that influence the cost of hiring a junk pick-up service:

Volume Of Junk

The amount of junk you're removing plays a significant role in determining the cost. The volume of items you need to dispose of is a major factor influencing the cost of junk removal.

Whether it’s a single appliance or a full property cleanout, the quantity of items will significantly affect the final price. Sorting through and minimizing your junk beforehand can help reduce the overall cost.

Labor

Labor is another critical factor that can affect junk removal costs. Some Junk removal businesses San Francisco services base their pricing on how much labor needs to be done.

If you have a large quantity of items or bulky objects that are difficult to move, more labor will be required, which can raise the overall price.

Distance And Location

Your location also determines the cost of hiring a junk pick-up service. If might add the cost for travel expenses.

Furthermore, some companies charge minimum fees for long-distance pickups to cover fuel and time. It's essential to check whether the junk removal service includes these travel fees in its initial quote.

Disposal And Recycling Costs

The cost of disposal and recycling can fluctuate based on the items being removed. Many junk removal companies prioritize eco-friendly practices, recycling or donating items whenever possible.

It's important to ask how the company manages disposal and whether recycling fees are already factored into the quoted price.

This will help you understand any additional costs and ensure you're choosing a service that aligns with your environmental values.

Conclusion

Understanding the factors that influence cost when hiring a junk pick-up service is crucial to making the right choice for your needs and budget.

By considering these factors, you can better plan for the cost of your junk removal project and ensure that you get the best value for your money.

Be sure to request a detailed quote from your chosen junk removal company so there are no surprises when it comes time to pay. If you are looking for an affordable solution, contact us at Junk Hauling Companies San Francisco.

Look at our homepage to get more information about House Cleanout Companies San Francisco!

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https://www.apsense.com/article/expert-garbage-removal-solutions-in-toronto.html

Expert Garbage Removal Solutions in Toronto

In Toronto and the Greater Toronto Area (GTA), efficient garbage removal is essential for maintaining cleanliness and ensuring proper waste management. Whether you’re dealing with household junk, commercial debris, or scrap metal, expert garbage removal services can help streamline the process and provide reliable solutions. Here’s a guide to understanding the key aspects of garbage removal in Toronto and the GTA.

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Golden Hook Towing delivers expert Light-Duty Towing in Pittsburgh, PA, with swift response times and professional care. Count on us for safe and efficient transport of your vehicle, ensuring peace of mind during any roadside situation.

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Junk Removal Lords of Miami

Address: 25 SE 2nd Ave, Ste 550 PMB1005 Miami, FL 33131

Phone: (786) 628-8874

Website: https://ezhaulingandjunkremoval.com/miami-fl/

Business Email: junklordsjunkremoval@gmail.com

Junk Removal Lords of Miami is a local junk hauling company serving the Miami and Miami Beach areas. When you are ready to talk to junk elimination, appliance removing, mattress elimination, furniture removing, spa removing, shed removing and demolition, hoarder cleanout providers, foreclosure cleanout, estate cleanout services and common removing, we're here to make it a simple breeze. Contact us at this time for same or either the following day or the next time you are schedule to exercise removing at no additional price to you. Our residential and business junk removal services are all done by our skilled haulers. We offer no charge for estimates for all new and old customers. Get a hold of us right now for a FREE quote.

[redrockjunkremoval]

Junk Removal Mesa | Red Rock Junk Removal

Discover top-tier Junk Removal services in Mesa with Red Rock Junk Removal! Our experts ensure hassle-free, eco-friendly junk removal solutions. Say goodbye to clutter and hello to a cleaner space. Contact us today for reliable and efficient removal services!

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For optimizing waste disposal, Junk Off Seattle is your go-to for Seattle’s best garbage hauling. Our efficient, eco-conscious service ensures waste is managed responsibly, leaving Seattle cleaner and greener. https://junkoffseattle.com/

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Taste of the Devil

!!!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! 18+

Summary: When your girlfriend needs your help, you are more than willing to offer your services.

Warning: vampire!Kate Bishop, super solider!Reader, smut, fluff, lots of talk of blood, dom!reader, sub!Kate, mention of subspace, fingering (Kate receiving), nipple play (Kate reciving), reader is a little freaky, pet names, swearing, no y/n, no physical description of reader but they are strong, poorly written smut lol

Word Count: 2.4K

“Shit, fuck,” you heard your girlfriend say when you entered your shared apartment. Kate swore like a trucker, so that was no surprise to hear, but her worried tone made you realize something was wrong. You toed off your shoes and gently closed the door behind you. No one heard you come in, not even your girlfriend’s four-legged companion. The dog was trying to provide some comfort to his distraught owner. The archer was on the couch, her hands covering her face and leaning back.

“Katie girl,” you said softly, not wanting to startle the girl, and sat down next to her. Lucky’s ears pricked up at your sudden appearance, but he kept his head on Kate’s lap. “What’s wrong?” she threw her hands to the side with a huff.

“Problem at the blood bank,” she mumbled. Her left leg started to bounce. “Tony can’t get any.” Ah, there it was. She was hungry.

“When was the last time you ate?” You whispered, even though no one else was in the apartment.

“Last week, maybe. I can’t remember. It’s been busy,” Kate was right. Usually, you were better at picking up on her cues when she was hungry. But you were stretched thing with helping the Avengers and Yelena. “Tony said it might come in tomorrow or the day after, but I-”

“You’re hungry,” you placed your hand on the back of her neck and gave it a comforting squeeze. The contrasting temperature of her skin against yours was one of your favorite things about dating Kate. You knew the archer was different the moment you were introduced to her. With your enhanced senses, you could never hear a heartbeat and never hear her inhale air into her lungs. Sometimes, you caught her eyes flickering from blue to red—her healing ability was on par with or better than yours.

You became fascinated with the archer, and a close friendship turned into you asking her out on a date. She told you the truth about what she was: a vampire. The Bishop family can be traced back to the 18th century.

Sometimes, you forget how powerful your girlfriend is. Most of the time, she was gentle and soft. She was easy to fluster, and she stumbled over her words when you told her how beautiful she looked. She was your Katie girl, the best dog mom, and a little clumsy from time to time. Under all that, she was a predator, and predators needed to be fed.

Which led to the current predicament. Her kind stopped feeding on humans centuries ago due to the donation of blood banks; Tony was in charge of all the paperwork. She was an animal lover and hated the idea of hunting. Besides, she told you that blood tastes weird if the animal had a disease. The same was said for humans. Humans poured junk into their bodies - drugs, alcohol, even vitamins, and it could be tasted in their blood. Clean blood is hard to come by, Kate said.

However, that got you thinking about what you tasted like. You knew you smelt good to her. On movie nights, her nose would be pressed against your neck, and her deep inhales and exhales caused goosebumps to form on your skin. She said you smelt earthy, like the smell of rain - a dampened forest, a mixture of pine and mass. The deep, earthy scent of the Earth after a storm.

Maybe it was wrong to fantasize how it would feel to have her drink from you. The sharp pinch of her teeth and the way she would be filled with your blood. You pushed those selfish thoughts away. “You know,” you said slowly, playing with the baby hairs that couldn’t be pulled into her ponytail. “You could drink from me.” Kate physically recoiled away from you. Your hand fell to the couch.

“No,” she snapped.

“Baby,” you tried to move closer to her, but she stopped you. “You can’t hurt me.”

“We don’t know that,” she countered. Yes, but you’ve endured worse injuries. Even Professor Xavier was impressed with your healing ability. It was as good as Logan’s. There was one time you traveled from Russia way back to the city with a piece of rebar in your side. You were proud of yourself, and you only passed out once.

“You need to eat. I bet you are starting to get a headache,” she allowed you to touch her temples and massage the area. She moaned quietly at the relief. “My little bat,” you cooed. “Aren’t you a little curious about what I taste like?” Her eyes turned red, and every bit of blue was gone, as she looked at the vein in your neck.

“Do you want me to bite you?” Her voice shook. Her resolve was breaking.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t 100% okay with it,” you wondered if she could hear your heartbeat. The very idea of it sent your body into overdrive. You were excited, nervous, and maybe a little turned on.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Okay,” you repeated.

*

Kate brought Lucky upstairs and locked him in your shared room with a Kong, bones, and toys. You changed into a white tank top and a pair of sweatpants. You sat on the couch, patiently waiting for Kate. Tapping your hands on your thighs, you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. “You can change your mind,” you turned to see Kate. She also changed into one of your shirts and sleep shots. “I can hear your heart pounding from upstairs.” You chuckled.

“Just anxious,” you told her as she sat beside you. “Just don’t go all Dracula on me.” The archer glared at you.

“I hate that movie,” she said. “It ruined the image of my kind.” You laughed and cupped her cheek.

“I’m sorry, baby, I trust you,” you kissed her softly. “It’s okay. Feed.” You felt her letting out a shaky exhale against your lips.

“Stay still, okay?” You nodded and tried to control your breathing as she leaned into your neck. You expected her to sink her teeth into your skin. Instead, you felt her lips kiss the spot, gently soothing the area with her tongue. It was a nice gesture, but it did not help the beating of your heart. Her cold fingers touched the vein. “Just stay still,” she repeated. “I-” she stopped before she could finish her sentence and sunk her teeth into you.

“Shit,” you grunted in pain, face contracting briefly. Soon, it was replaced with pleasure that washed over your entire body.

You remembered Kate telling you how intimate it was to drink from a person. It was why she tried to avoid it even when it was allowed. This feeling was euphoric, something you’ve experienced before. Her lips on your neck as she sucked and fed on you was sending you into a spiral. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins, and you loved it. You were addicted to it.

You grabbed the nap of her neck and pulled her against you, demanding her to be closer. Her hand moved to your chest, pinning you to the couch. It was a silent reminder to stay still, but the sudden display of strength caused your hips to buckle.

“I said,” she detached herself from your neck. “Stay still,” she licked the wound she created. “Shit,” she said in disbelief. “You do heal fast.” You chuckled and turned to look at her. Her eyes were slowly returning to their normal color, but she needed more. Without any words, you pulled her onto your lap. She gasped at the sudden movement.

“Then bite me again,” you whispered, breathlessly. Kate looked you over, probably checking to make sure you were okay with continuing. The second bite was much less hesitant, and you knew the type of pain to expect. Instead of holding onto her neck, you moved your hands to her hips. Both of your hips buckled into each other. Her moan rattled through your body.

“Fuck,” your eyes rolled in the back of your head and grabbed her ass. It was on instinct to start moving her hips against you. Your body was on fire. Every sense was Kate. Her cold skin against yours. The soft moans in your ears. The smell of her arousal hit your nose. “So fucking beautiful,” you groaned. Your hands traveled underneath her (your) shirt and covered each inch of her skin with your hands. You pinched one of her nipples, and she removed her teeth from you as a quiet moan ripped through her. Kate’s hips stopped moving as her forehead rested against yours. Her eyes were closed, but her chest was heaving like she ran a marathon.

“Did I tell you to stop?” you asked. Her eyes snapped open. Gone was the red, but they were glossy—a look she only got when you pushed her into a certain headspace. “Awe, my poor baby,” you cooed. Did your head get all fuzzy because you are full of my blood?” She wined, eyes rolling back slightly. “Do you always get wet when you feed?” you joked.

“Do you always get wet when someone bites you?” She used your words against you.

“Cheeky little bat,” you smiled, connecting your lips with hers. You pushed your tongue into your mouth and moaned at the taste of your blood. Shit, when did you turn into a freak? “How do I taste?” It was your turn to press kisses against the column of her throat.

“Sweet,” she began to move her hips against yours. “Like honey,” she chuckled breathlessly. “Better than the blood bags.” You took great pride in that statement. You knew you weren’t the greatest with your body, drowning your past in alcohol and the occasional drug use. It must be the serum she was tasting that ran through your veins. Still, if those were going to be a recurring trend, you made a promise to yourself to treat your body better.

“I guess you have your personal blood bag,” you teased, and your hand moved over the top of her shorts. “Shit, baby,” you ran the tip of your fingers over her folds and collected the wetness. “You’re soaked.” Her head fell to your shoulder.

“Please,” the archer mumbled. A simple kiss to your neck sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Please, what, Katie girl?” You teased. “Use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me.” She huffed and sat up straighter to look down at you.

“Need-” A moan interrupted her as you began to rub her clit. It was such a beautiful sound that made your clit throb. “Need your fingers.” She added a pout and gave you her best puppy dog eyes she could muster; you chuckled and applied more pressure.

“My fingers?” You questioned with a confused tilt of your head. “You have my fingers. I’m touching you right now. Is this not enough?” You were being mean. You knew it was hard for her to form words when she got like this. But you would give it to her. All she had to do was say it.

“Inside,” she groaned, her hips became frantic. “Need your fingers inside. Need to cum all over them.” Bingo. There it was. Usually, it took her longer, but she must be desperate for release. With how busy it has been, you haven’t had time for this.

“Good girl,” you praised. She was wet enough to slip two fingers inside her easily. She gasped at the sudden feeling; her hands gripped both your shoulders, and her eyes rolled back. “So wet and warm, baby,” you moaned and pushed her shirt up. “Come on, little bat,” you encouraged. “Take what you need.” She did, and damn, it was a sight to behold.

Kate rode your fingers with a fierce determination to get herself off. She was gorgeous, and you counted yourself to see her like this. Her pussy squeezed your fingers, and the smell of her arousal mixed with her moans and the blood loss was bringing you embarrassingly close without being touched. Ignoring the ache in your wrist, you leaned forward and swirled your tongue around her nipple. You smirked at the gasp.

She was close. All these months together with Kate, you knew her tells. Her hips would begin to stutter and lose their rhythm. She became more vocal. Your girlfriend wasn’t loud during sex, but it always excited you when you could pull a loud moan from her. The final tell was her eyes. The blue of eyes darkened, almost black. It was intoxicating that you were the one giving her this pleasure. She wore your shirt. She fed on your blood. Your fingers were going to make her cum.

“Close,” she moaned. “‘M so fucking close. I need-”

“Take it, baby,” you encouraged. “Take whatever you need.” You expected her to push your hand closer to her so your palm would be against her clit, or she wanted you to kiss her. Instead, she leaned forward and sunk her teeth into your neck.

“Fuck yes,” you moaned and used your free hand to lite Kate up slightly. The sound was obscene. Your fingers moved faster. You felt her witness drip down your hand. “Cum for me, baby, please,” you pleaded. Her body went ridged against you, and you felt the coil snap deep in the pit of your stomach. You kept your fingers moving to help ride out her high and only stopped when she slumped against you. Her teeth released from your neck, and her nose nuzzled against you. Her breath tickled you. “I’m going to pull my fingers out, okay?” You felt her nod. Removing them slowly, you cooed softly as she hissed from the overestimation. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she mumbled. Sleepy.” You chuckled and kept her against your chest as you moved to lay follow on the couch. Slowly, you removed the ponytail from her hair and brushed the strands with your fingers. A list of things ran through your mind. You wanted to draw Kate a bath, let Lucky out, and eat something for yourself. Helen would give you a juice box and an orange when you had donated blood.

“Baby,” you hummed, so Kate knew you heard her. She moved so her chin rested on your chest. Her eyes were back to their normal blue—your favorite color. They were like diamonds—calm but bold, warm but cold. They were windows to her soul, and her gaze felt like home. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Always,” you smiled. “I love you, my little bat. Now and forever.”

[toovaeloe]

bus stop 𝝑𝝔 “If I was your boyfriend, you sure as hell wouldn’t be waiting at a bus stop.”

suguru geto x genderneutral reader

no curse au

You’ve used the “I have a boyfriend” excuse and you may have just manifested one. Or a gorgeous man, at the very least

☁️🚏☁️

This was the worst, you think. Had to be punishment for something you did in a past life.

For starters, you were late for work. Was it your fault for staying up so late, giggling and doom-scrolling through mounds of mind numbing media? Yeah, maybe…

Let’s blame it on the weather. Your alarm didn’t wake you up after you silenced it. The neighbor’s dog wouldn’t stop barking through the night. But it’s not like you could tell your boss any off that.

So that’s why you raced out the door, haphazardly juggling your belongings in your arms. Wallet. Keys. Phone. Something else you couldn’t quite remember at the moment. Did you have everything? Probably; no time to check now. Only to find when you stomped on the brake and turned the key in the ignition…your car wouldn’t start.

Sputter…sputter…and then nothing.

Great.

There’s your late-to-work-excuse.

Maybe you shouldn’t have ignored the “maintenance needed” symbols that have been lighting up your dash like they want their own holiday. To be fair, time and money just weren’t things that came in abundance.

In any case, as you were sitting in that local garage enduring the mechanic babbling on about vehicle expertise junk you just couldn’t begin to understand, zoning out and nodding every few minutes with a halfhearted “hmm,” so it at least looked like you were absorbing information…you made note to at least revisit the idea of changing your smoke alarm’s batteries before it decided to turn on you, too.

But that was last week.

7-9 business days.

That’s how long until your car would be up and running again. Apparently, according to the mechanic, you were lucky it was even that. Apparently. Which meant you needed some other means of transportation to and from work and such.

Lucky you had the local bus service, right?

WRONG.

They were always late, but you still felt the need to get to the stops on time, lest you have a repeat of 5 days ago. (You showed up only 2 minutes late and were left behind at the store. Had to wait for an hour for your friend to get off her shift and come pick you up.) You highly doubted it, but what with the way the world was shitting on you right now, it wasn’t out of the question. And the city’s money obviously wasn’t going towards public transportation— they could qualify as garbage trucks if they really needed them with how trashed they were. Mystery sticky patches on the seat, gum underneath. The inconsolable children whining their heads off. That was kind of cute at first, but now it made you want to throw yourself out the window. The whole thing was just the experience that you could expect from a free public transportation system.

And why was it so rainy this month??? Ugh.

But what could you do but make do with what you had? Complaining definitely wasn’t making your shoes any less waterlogged. Be grateful, or some shit like that.

That evening, however, as you were waiting twenty minutes past the time the bus was supposed to arrive at the stop after an exhausting work day…you were just so fed up with everything. With the puddle water soaking through your shoes, with the way you had to stand because the benches were damp…with this rando-guy who had walked up next to you that you were half sure kept looking at you. To say the least, it only served to annoy you in your already sour mood.

You were willing to just ignore it. Until he stepped closer.

“Hey I’m uh…I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you around.”

Oooohh boy.

“Yeah, yeah, it is you. I’ been taking the bus sometimes. Usually I’m riding my motorcycle but uh, not today.”

Did you ask?

“Thought I’d drop by.”

The public bus stop. (???)

“What’s yer name, toots?”

Yeah no. Go back to the 1950’s and maybe that’d work there. You’d rather lick the mystery sticky shit off the bus seat. You could pick up a date 10x better without opposable thumbs.

All of the above is what you would’ve liked to say. Alas, you were tired. You didn’t want trouble that would take more energy than it was worth. So before he could go any further, you just coined the foolproof line.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Lie. You didn’t, but it was the first thing that came to mind. And if that didn’t make him lose interest, then he must really be a pathetic asswipe.

Sadly, he was. In terms of getting the hint to shut up, the guy looked barely deterred; offended even, as he prattled on.

“Well why were you acting so into me then, huh?” You definitely didn’t. You don’t even know this dude.

“I wasn’t even going for you.” He definitely was.

“You’re—“ X, Y, and Z. Just because his game is trifling?? You felt a headache coming on. And maybe a bout of anxiety. People are crazy, and the last thing you wanted was for this needless situation to escalate into something dangerous.

The entire mess was occurring just as Suguru was making the commute to work on the same street. But he found himself slowing nearly to a stop when he caught sight of you.

How could a person look so exhausted; hair extra frizzy, floccose from the humid rain, clothes soaked, droplets of the downpour dribbling onto your cheeks and blinked away from your lashes…and still so breathtaking? Or perhaps that was part of your beauty in this moment. You looked every bit done with the day, but who knew when- if— he’d ever see you again? He’d be stupid, a fool to not at least try to strike up a conversation with you. He’d be…

…Probably like that idiot.

A sulky moue twisted at his expression as he witnessed the disgraceful way this loser was fumbling. Oh dear. His approach lacked so much grace, so much respect…it was really just distasteful. You didn’t deserve that. And frankly, he didn’t think he deserved to watch you be treated like that when he knew he could do so much better.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!”

A merry sounding tone directed your way had your head sharply whipping to the source. A tall dark haired man you’ve never seen before; layered in a gray colored quarter zip and dark slacks, you think. His approach was casual and relaxed, a subtly jovial yet inherently guileful grin tugging at his lips. He even waved to you like an old friend. His entire facade was so convincing you considered for a moment if you had known him from somewhere and simply forgotten.

No, you really wouldn’t have forgotten a face like that. Eyes like those. A presence so contrasting of itself and yet so cohesive in its own way, if you had to try and describe it. Just a damn beautiful man. With eyebrows that were beginning to crease on his forehead.

Ooh, you were staring.

More than that, he was giving you a pointed look that you didn’t notice while drooling over the poor guy. Unfortunately for you, slo-mo’s only happened in movies, and in reality you just looked like an ogling dork. But you didn’t have time to dwell on your embarrassment when he was quite obviously urging you to play along with this illusion he was creating.

And so you did.

“Oh- hi! No worries,” You insisted in an awkward attempt to adapt to this new charade.

“‘Hasn’t been that long,” though your reaction to his presence wasn’t as well-articulated, it was convincing enough.

The other dude looked to be at least somewhat suspicious, and might’ve spoken on it if wasn’t for Geto’s scrutinizing gaze and a simple raise of his brow.

“Can I help you?” And just for good measure, he’d wrap his arm around you, sliding his hand into your coat pocket as if he’s done it a million times before to pull you closer against him. Whatever glare this ravenette man was glowering down the length of his nose at this guy with must’ve been scarring, because he murmured some half-assed excuse before scampering away.

You idly wondered how’d he get wherever he was going without the bus.

Or maybe you’d have more time to think about it if your brain wasn’t short-circuiting, acutely aware of the unworldly attractive man’s hand resting just over your hip.

“Sorry,” Geto spoke after a few beats, languidly retracting his arm from your coat and back to his side. “You looked like you were about to burst a blood vessel entertaining him. I hope I didn’t overstep. Y’know, with your boyfriend and all.” He had to have overheard you earlier.

But the way he spoke made it sound as if he doubted that fact, glancing to either side of you as if to say That is nowhere in sight..? without being so overtly rude. Or maybe he just wasn’t all that apologetic.

“That-! Yeah,” You pepped with a nervous pitter of laughter, “yeah…it’s not a problem, thanks.”

Your hand gravitated to the zipper of your jacket, absentmindedly fiddling with it as you frantically thought up an at least half decent explanation. One that wouldn’t make you sound more clumsy than you already felt.

“He’s not real, so he won’t mind.”

Yeah, real smooth. What was that you said; about being able to pick up a date without opposable thumbs? You’d need at least ten pairs of hands.

But Suguru didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his grin widened into something toothy and almost boyish, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that added an innocent charm to his otherwise elegant features. He found it endearing.

“Perfect,” His response was coupled with a discreet chuckle.

“Don’t feel obligated,” He’d continue as he reached to the side of you. So close to brushing your shoulder, it made your breath hitch. Though truly he was reaching around you, sharply tearing a flier from the side of the bus stop and pulling a pen from one of his pockets. If you were paying more attention you’d have noticed the glint of impish amusement in his umber eyes that led one to believe that action was more deliberate than he let on.

Still, he’d make quick work of jotting down a phone number and the address of a nice restaurant he’s been meaning to try with Satoru— but plans change. “but I’d like to take you out. I was on my way over to ask you, anyhow.”

He offered the page to you; his handwriting as sumptuous and calligraphic as you would’ve expected his penmanship to be; in the margins of some tacky ad for a lawn mowing service. As you went to accept the paper, however, he rescinded it from reach. All whilst drawing closer so that his piercing dark amber eyes held your gaze with an unwavering intensity. The kind that made your stomach do flips and stole your breath away.

“And for the record,” He spoke quietly but poised; a conspiratorial whisper for only you, him, and the rain to witness. “if I was your boyfriend, you sure as hell wouldn’t be waiting at a bus stop.”

There wasn’t time to react; he was already slipping the page into your pocket, withdrawing to a comfortable proximity all the while waving you off and wishing you well with a kind smile, disappearing someplace else.

You didn’t even catch his name.

At least your bus was here.

a/n: I had something to say but I totally forgot 😭

OH but I did add an upcoming section to my masterlist so you can see my works in the works if you’d like! 🤍 always open to ideas too

Dear god I crave geto with that loose low bun that’s barely a bun kind of hairstyle. Ykwim???

ty for reading 🤍🤍🤍 love you have a lovely lovely day or night

edit: OMG THATS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY. I kept accidentally writing bust stop instead of bus stop as I wrote this. So, sorry if you bust

☁️☁️☁️

[titanjunkremovalca]

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During this consultation, expect a detailed discussion about the scope of work, which includes identifying areas to be cleaned out, items to be removed, and any specific requirements you may have. This stage is crucial for planning and ensures that the company can effectively tailor their services to meet your needs.

Professional Sorting And Categorization

House cleanout companies excel in sorting and categorizing items to streamline the process. This professional approach is particularly valuable in homes filled with everything from vintage collectibles to modern furniture. Expect the team to handle items carefully, categorizing them into keep, donate, recycle, or dispose of piles.

This method makes the cleanout process more efficient and ensures that valuable or sentimental items are handled appropriately.

Efficient And Safe Disposal

Proper disposal of items is a significant part of any cleanout project. Debris removal companies San Francisco adhere to local regulations regarding waste disposal and recyclables.

Additionally, many companies prioritize eco-friendly practices, recycling as much as possible and minimizing the amount of waste sent to landfills. This is particularly important in a city known for its environmental consciousness.

Timely And Professional Service

Time is often of the essence when it comes to cleanouts, especially when dealing with a property sale or transition. From scheduling to completion, expect high professionalism and respect for your time.

Most companies offer flexible scheduling options to accommodate your availability, ensuring the cleanout is completed as smoothly and quickly as possible without disrupting your daily life.

Comprehensive Pricing And Transparent Quotes

Reputable cleanout companies provide a clear and comprehensive pricing structure before starting any work. Having a transparent quote is essential where costs can vary widely.

Expect the company to offer a detailed breakdown of costs, including any additional fees for special services or items requiring special handling.

This transparency helps avoid unexpected charges and ensures you can budget accurately for the cleanout project.

Conclusion

Choosing a house cleanout company in San Francisco means opting for a service that combines efficiency, professionalism, and environmental responsibility.

From the initial consultation to the final disposal of items, these companies provide a structured approach to managing your cleanout needs.

With personalized service, careful sorting, safe disposal practices, timely execution, and clear pricing, you can expect a smooth and stress-free cleanout experience.

Check out our website to get more information about Junk Pick Up Service San Francisco!

[epigstolary]

On Your Own

The alarm buzzing on your phone announces another day of struggling to navigate your narrow, confined world. After a few minutes of burying your head under the pillow, you muster the strength to reach a heavy, puffy, flab-covered arm out to hit the snooze button. A couple of rocks back and forth with one of your shapeless legs and its bulging, wobbling sacs of fat, ready you to heave for the edge of the bed; and you feel your belly weight begin shifting and cascading over the side, helping to pull you toward an upright sitting position. You feel the now-familiar sensation of the thick layer of blubber burying every inch of your body sloshing with your movement, its weight pushing you down into a crater divoting most of this side of the bed. Your heart races and your breaths come shallow and labored as you recover from this extraordinary exertion, trying to collect yourself for the final push to stand up.

This hadn’t been the plan, not by a long shot. You were supposed to have a feeder, someone to take care of all the details like prepping your vast meals, getting the extensive grocery list needed to keep the overworked kitchen full, tidying up and performing all the personal care rituals you’d gotten too fat to do yourself without it taking a literal workout. And for a while, you’d had one. Someone who was happy, even eager, to see you gain as much as you possibly could. Someone who would have been far from disappointed to see you overwhelm your bed with your lard-packed body and keep eating. And someone who was willing to put in the work to help you make it happen.

He was there, cooking before and after work, making sure you had the piles of alternately greasy or fatty or sweet or salty food you needed to keep your waistline expanding and the rolls covering your body growing. He was there restocking your snack cabinet and your soda fridge and your containers of prepped meals so you rarely had to do more than waddle to the kitchen to find a couple thousand calories waiting for you. He was there to admire your growing bulk, watching as that heavy swollen belly swallowed up your lap, that ballooning butt anchored you more and more firmly to the couch, that double chin and those tits and that bicep flab piled up around your chest as if to bury you.

He’d eventually fed you to a point beyond what you’d have ever thought possible. He made sure you were tantalized by food 24/7, always able to have something tasty and fattening on hand at any moment of the day, never not thinking about your next snack or meal or indulgence. His encouragement left you with a permanent craving for something at all times — a craving he was always ready to satisfy. You didn’t worry about what his doting attention was doing to your body, or your stamina, or your health, because he was there. He was taking care of you. Even if you wound up in bed and too fat to ever move again, he’d be there to make sure you had everything you needed. You could get as big as you wanted, and know that he would always find a way to make it work.

And then he was gone. It wouldn’t do any good to dwell on how, again, for the thousandth time. The stark fact was that now you were on your own — no job, nothing like the amount of food he’d kept stocked up, struggling even to move under the 700 lbs he’d fed into you. You managed to avoid disaster — dusting off your resume and finding remote work, setting up a service for groceries, getting a monthly pass to keep your lifeline of fast food deliveries coming. But you knew how precarious your situation was, and how little it would take for your morbidly-obese, food-addicted self to be in real trouble, if you put on just a few pounds or had to try and travel hardly any distance.

Because you definitely weren’t getting any smaller. Fear didn’t keep you from picking up the fork; if anything, it made you shovel more junk down your throat. And how else were you supposed to lose weight, join a gym and start exercising? You knew you could bounce along on a treadmill for two or three minutes at most before your pounding heart and burning lungs would force you to quit. You’d be reduced to a wheezing, overheated mound of blubber desperately trying to collect yourself in front of a gym full of fit, healthy, judgmental people. You’d have to make do at this size for as long as your luck would hold out, hoping against hope that you wouldn’t grow and lose what little mobility you still had.

And so you do your best to stumble through your morning routine — your ass and belly squeaking as they rub against the sides of the shower stall they’re too big for, your chubby arms and bingo wings quivering as you reach into the grease-soaked paper bag for another fast-food breakfast sandwich, your couch creaking ominously as you settle in for work with your laptop and your chocolate-caramel-laced excuse of a coffee. You know, somewhere deep down, that there’s a ticking clock counting down — this is not a stable situation that can last forever. You know you can’t stop gorging and gaining. Things aren’t desperate enough yet for you to want to; but even if you did, you know you couldn’t. The day is coming when you’ll be stuck here, too big to help yourself anymore, no way to save yourself from snowballing growth. You know you can’t stop it.

And you realize why, for the first time. The voice you hear in the back of your mind, telling you how hungry you are, how tasty that little snack or dessert would be, is his voice. When you run your fingers across the soft, yielding flab spreading out from your body, it’s his touch, his hands that you feel. And when that yearning, aching, burning desire to eat even more and grow even heavier overtakes you, it’s his desperate lust that you feel. “I need you so much bigger, babe… I need you fat enough to fill this bed, so the real feeding can start.”

It doesn’t matter that he isn’t around anymore. That living independently and being a half-ton are a complete contradiction. That caring for yourself and being a bedbound lardpile are irreconcilably exclusive. You might be on your own, but he insinuated himself into your psyche a long time ago. After him, there was no going back to your merely chubby former self. His encouragement was corrupting to your very soul; and you were chained to him and his wishes as surely as if the ghost of his memory were the living, breathing man, delicately forcing another fattening morsel between your lips.

You were his. You are his. And he wants you fatter.

[thejunkboys1]

Junk Removal Ontario GTA: For professional junk removal services in Ontario's GTA, trust The Junk Boys. We efficiently clear out unwanted items, leaving your space clean and clutter-free.