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bunny584 · 8 months

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OBSESSED: GETO

A/N: Suguru is a patient, kind, wonderful, completely out-of-his-mind-insane man. I just had to capture it on paper. (The Yuuta installment is up next, this one was just crawling out of me lol)

C/W: Voyeurism (the real Shibuya incident 🤭) Mature, 18+

Suguru should stop.

He really should fucking stop.

You two are friends. Innocent. Platonic. The very best of friends.

And yet, here he is. Watching a live feed of you walking through your apartment door.

Keys to the left.

Heels kicked off to the right. You’ll come back to those later.

He drapes the bath towel around his neck. Catching the last few almond water droplets from his thick, near waist length hair. He’ll be at your place later; he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was the reason you caught a cold.

And capital punishment for anyone who rouses a single strand of hair on your head.

6:38 PM. A little late today. But it’s a Wednesday and there’s a farmers market in the town square. You always stop for chocolate croissants too late on Wednesdays. The vendor leaves before you’re out of work.

There are four of them on low heat in his oven right now.

Because Suguru now knows the vendor on a first name basis. He’s paid him well over asking price to have 4 chocolate croissants (made 2 batches later than what he sells during the day) be delivered to his place every Wednesday.

Because you’re his friend.

His best friend. And he can’t stand the thought of you going a second without anything you want in this lifetime.

Oh fucking hell.

Your (his) favorite blazer is off. As is the demure mint silk button up that it was covering. Both now wistfully draped over the corner of the kitchen island. He finds the way you throw your things around haphazardly so adorable.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

Like clockwork, Suguru’s left hand drags down his sweatpants, just enough to let his overgrown, painfully hard cock free. It bounces well past his belly button, like a fresh wire spring.

And with cinematic timing, you lean over your kitchen island. In nothing but your lacy bra and snug little pencil shirt. Mindlessly catching up on your social media.

The way your plush, pouty rose lips hang slightly open. And your fucking perfect tits spill over the top of your slightly undersized bra. The lazy S curve from your petite shoulders…tapered down to your waist…back out to the swell of your hips.

“Fuck,” a king cobra hiss escapes his lips.

You’re dizzying. Utterly fucking intoxicating.

Suguru’s chest rises and falls. The pace of his hand around his cock crescendos. Almost angrily.

How could you do this to him?

You’re his best friend for fucks sake.

Precum slicks from his thick, blunt tip. Squelching around his knuckles.

Your back arches into a mini crescent moon. And Suguru might as well have swallowed a blow torch.

“Nnnhhgh fuck, g-god…so…” Sharp drags of air mix with his poorly choked down moans.

His hand grips harder. Hips now rutting up off his desk chair. Hungry. Needy. Imprecise pumps into the slick ring of his fingers. Chasing another high he so desperately wishes you could personally give.

Because the way he feels right now?

The sheer malevolence in his mind. The depravity. You trust him completely and he can’t trust himself with you at all.

Beautiful, enchanting girl.

You reduce him to a perverted, bird brained slave to his desires.

You make him want to violate you. To fuck a cock-shaped hole through the back of your skirt to your cervix.

He wants to pick you up and bounce you along all 10 inches of his length and watch himself bludgeon through to your stomach.

He wants to pin you down and use your pretty little throat as his personal cocksleeve. And watch you garble and cry and drool around his invading length while you struggle for air. And listen to the melodic sounds of you gasping and muffled around his dick when he makes you apologize.

Apologize for being so goddamn irresistible. For bringing this depraved shell of a human being out of him.

Electricity runs the length of his manhood. His breaths are jagged, tendrils of wavey hair matted to his forehead.

The sound of your ringtone slices through the static in his brain. Tethering him back out of his criminal spiral.

“H-hey, pretty.” Suguru forces his baritone to level out. Hand still stroking his length.

Your wispy, girly giggle almost finishes him instantly.

“You’ve gotta stop with the pet names, Suguru! The trail of women in your wake hate me enough as it is.”

“Ha-I c-couldn’t care less.” Talking is harder than breathing for him.

You lean up from the counter and start twirling your hair in a way that makes him want to carve out another galaxy for you. Just for you. Anything for you.

“Movie night? I’ve been wanting to—“

“Yes.” Suguru is almost embarrassed at how quickly he cut you off. Like a fucking dog.

You laugh again and stroll to your refrigerator. He knows you’re lamenting the missed croissants. And he knows you know there’s a 99.99% chance he’s already gotten them for you. Because he is silly putty for you. He crumbles to stardust in your hands.

Because he’s your best friend.

“I got them.” Suguru rasps out. Hands moving so fast up his shaft, precum surging out his tip. He’s so close. So fucking—

“God I love you.”

And he snaps. Hot, thick ropes of his cum splay everywhere. Suguru draws metallic from his bottom lip, clenching down so hard not to give himself away.

You said it so innocently. So platonically. And it shifted his entire world on its axis.

His best fucking friend.

“Love you too, I’ll be there at 8.”

PART. II

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biteofcherry · 1 year

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Nature’s beauty

mountain rescuer Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: Your teasing comment about staying home barefoot and pregnant makes something in Steve snap. He’s now eager to turn it into reality.

warnings: consensual; barebacking; breeding kink; housewife kink; light bondage; dubiously consensual taking of risky pictures; lots of filthy talk (not even dirty, just nasty filth); mention of cumplay; established relationship; Steve’s a rescuer but who will rescue us from Steve’s hotness;

*no squirrels were harmed in the process of writing the story

“Come on. Get out of there!” You huffed, tapping your fingers against the wood of the small birdhouse installed high on the tree trunk.

It was a birdhouse - and just this morning you saw a small, colorful bird check it out - but some sneaky, red squirrel decided to squat inside it. How did it even fit through the tiny hole, you had no idea.

You noticed it as you returned from your little hike, seeing a flash of an orange fluffy tail as the squirrel stuffed its tiny butt through the hole. So you tried climbing the tree, not much successfully, and scare the intruder out.

It wouldn’t be a good house for a growing squirrel anyway.

To prop yourself, you used one of the wooden crates Steve built you for the vegetable garden that you planned on starting. Since it wasn’t enough to reach the birdhouse, you stuck another crate on top of it. The construction swayed a little, but you braced yourself against the tree trunk and reached your hand up to knock on the small wooden house.

“Your nuts won’t fit in there with you!” You called, though it was doubtful the squirrel would understand you.

The crates wobbled, but before you had a chance to stabilize yourself with both hands on the tree two strong hands gripped your hips and easily lifted you up.

“And what do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” Steve’s steady voice calmed your initial panic.

You melted into his embrace as he set you down on your feet on the ground and spun around to face him. Your immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, straining on your tiptoes to greet him with a kiss.

He’s been gone for nearly two days - his usual shift stretching longer due to a crisis his team had to react to in the higher parts of the mountains.

“Steve.” You breathlessly whispered his name, smile stretching on your lips.

So close to the way you looked and sounded when he woke you up with his mouth between your thighs.

“You’re back.” You pecked his lips once again then grinned. “Just in time for eviction.”

“Eviction?” Steve’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“A squirrel locked herself inside the birdhouse. We need to chase her away. For her own good.” You pointed up at the tree where few weeks ago Steve installed the birdhouse.

With a shake of his head and an overly dramatic sigh, Steve went to his truck to get his backpack with the climbing gear. He put the crates away - sending you a warning glare for coming up with a dangerous idea of putting your safety on top of them - then tied a rope around the tree to have a leverage for climbing. He reached the birdhouse exceptionally quickly.

Once he brought it down, you opened the front panel and shooed the squirrel away. It looked at you indignantly, holding a nut in its tiny paws, then scrambled away onto another tree near your house.

“I see you got into serious animal real estate business, even though you only got back home yourself.” Steve chuckled, pointing at your small backpack and the camera placed a few feet away.

“I went to the valley to take some shots of the early crocuses.” You beamed, picking up your things.

“But!” You kept close to Steve as you both walked up the porch and into the house. “I prepared a stew earlier and some garlic bread slices that are ready to pop into the oven.”

“Wow. You’re organized like a proper housewife.” Steve snickered, patting your ass.

“Yeah?” You glanced at him over your shoulder, waggling your eyebrows comically. “You gonna keep me barefoot and pregnant?”

“We can have that arranged.” Steve wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to him. He kicked the door shut behind you and dropped his backpack to the floor.

“Ah-ah!” You quickly slipped away from his grasp.

You turned around with a grin, mischievous sparks lighting your eyes. You lifted the camera and clutched it protectively to your chest.

“Gotta put the fragile goods into safety first, before you go all patriarchal on me.”

“You’ll never forgive me that vase, won’t you?” Steve hung his head in shame, but he couldn’t suppress the proud smirk on his face.

The pretty, pink glass vase became a collateral damage when the two of you resolved a minor argument with hot, angry sex.

Steve bent you over the table and fucked you so hard that your hands flailed helplessly around and you knocked the vase off the table. As the glass shattered all over the floor, you gushed around Steve’s cock with a scream that surely carried through the mountain range.

“That orgasm was worth the sacrifice.” You laughed, disappearing into the bedroom.

“But my camera is too precious to risk it!” The cottage you and Steve were living in wasn’t tiny, but small enough that your voice easily reached other parts of the house if you raised your volume a bit.

“Duly noted!” Steve called back.

He walked into the kitchen where the faint smell of stew lingered in the air. He sat down on one of the chairs and bent down to unlace his shoes, smiling to himself as he thought of you cooking and dancing around the kitchen.

You were quite messy when you cooked, even worse when you baked. But there was no hotter sight than you naked on your knees on the tiled floor, with smears of flour on your face and then his cum dribbling down your chin.

Suddenly, provoked by your recent words, an image of you walking around the kitchen pregnant flashed through Steve’s head.

He saw you glowing and round, cutting strawberries with a smile as he whisked the batter for pancakes. You’d snack on the strawberries, claiming to be hungry and impatient to wait for breakfast. He’d take the fruit from you with a laugh, lick the sticky juice off your fingers. Then go on his knees to pleasure you until you can’t stand upright anymore.

He imagined you bent over the sink, hands in soapy water from washing dishes, as he fucked you slowly from behind - unable to keep his hands away from your pregnant belly, needing to take you as soon as he comes home from his shift.

He easily pictured you carrying a toddler on your hip, bouncing the kid lightly as you walk barefoot around the house, the swell of your belly growing with another baby.

You’d take the kids to the meadows, play with them and take stunning photographs of the nature and of the kids exploring its beauty. You’d chase away squirrels and tend to your vegetable garden - happiness radiating off your faces. You’d cook meals and try new baking recipes, and you all would eat together.

And later in the evening, when he puts the oldest kid to bed and you nurse the newborn baby to sleep, he’d take you again.

Fill you full through your needy cries, letting the nature take its course with your body as well.

Steve was so deep in this unexpected rush of craving he didn’t hear your soft footsteps at first. Only when you called his name upon entering the kitchen did he look up.

There you were - feet bare on the floor, your pants replaced with soft, cotton pajama shorts, and in his t-shirt which you liked to wear around the house.

All that was missing from the fantasy was your pregnant belly stretching the fabric of the tee.

Steve crooked a finger at you, wordlessly calling you over.

You noticed the heat in his gaze, how wider his pupils got and that his lips were slightly parted on a quickened breath. It was a look signaling some mindblowing pleasure coming your way, though you weren’t exactly sure what caused it at the moment.

You walked over, straddling Steve’s lap and placing your hands on his shoulders. His palms spread over your ass, fingers kneading your flesh and forcing you to rock against him.

Against his undoubtedly growing, impressive erection.

“I feel that you’re really happy to see me.” You grinned at Steve, but couldn’t help yourself from rubbing against him.

“Always.” Steve muttered and kissed you.

His lips were soft, but the way he used them was anything but gentle. He took possession of your mouth, tongue slipping between your parted lips to tease a moan out of your throat.

Your fingers weaved into his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp and causing Steve to purr.

He gave your asscheek a smack. Not exactly painful, but firm enough to elicit a squeak out of you and have you buck against him.

“I want to fuck you bare.” Steve growled, hips pushing up into you.

“Wha-” your mouth was still chasing his lips, your mind not yet fully catching up with his request.

Steve gave your ass another slap and tilted his head back, so your gaze focused on his eyes and what he was saying.

“I want to fuck you bare.” He repeated, his voice low and raspy with dark need.

“I want to fill you up and breed you.”

You shivered at his words. Your nipples tightened into hard peaks and your clit throbbed.

“You’re serious.” Your voice came out breathless, your throat suddenly dry.

Steve and you talked about having kids before, but it was all vague; nothing beyond agreeing that you wanted to build a family together, sometime. In the far future.

Since it was a unspecified future and your health didn’t allow for you to take pills or hormonal shots, Steve always had a strip of condoms at hand. Even in the spur of the moment quickies on your hikes, he always sheathed himself. You never took him bare.

Never felt him fill your pussy with his cum.

“What’s that thought, sweetheart?” Steve leaned forward and nipped your bottom lip when you let out an involuntary moan at the thought of being full of him.

“We’ve never done it bare.” You rubbed your heated core over his clothed cock. “I only had your cum in my mouth, or on my body.”

Corner of Steve’s mouth tilted in a smirk. He slid one of his hands to grip the back of your neck as he licked a wide stripe from your throat over your chin and up to your lips.

“I promise to still let you play with my cum from time to time, doll.” He kissed you again.

With your big eyes full of wonder, you always liked him to paint your body with white streaks of his spent. You stuck your little tongue out, swallowed him greedily, and scooped up every drop from your skin.

“But from now on, we’ll mostly fill your sweet cunt with it.”

You felt his dick twitch beneath you as he said those words. You felt your own panties and shorts dampen with your growing slick.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” Steve nudged the tip of your nose with his affectionately. “Want to get pregnant?”

“Pregnant and barefoot?” You huffed a breathy laugh, realizing it was your own words from earlier today that spurred Steve’s desire.

“Well, some days are really cold out here, so I think we can skip the barefoot part.” He smiled against your lips. “But we’re definitely doing the pregnant part.”

You were constantly grinding against him, your breasts pressed and rubbed against Steve’s chest. Growing heat consumed you and you wanted, needed, Steve to sate the fire he ignited. You felt as if your body wouldn’t calm down until he spilled inside you, like he promised.

“Yes!” You captured Steve’s mouth, clinging to him even closer.

“Yes, Steve!” You head fell back as he kissed and bit down your throat. “Fuck a baby into me!”

In rushed moves, surprisingly efficient considering how both of you were trembling with impatience, you undid Steve’s pants and took him into your hand. He pushed your shorts and panties to the side.

You both moaned as you slid down his cock. The feel of his hot flesh without the latex cover made your toes curl.

It was quick and brutal, really; your thighs burned as you bounced up and down on his length. A tearing sound, as Steve yanked on your t-shirt, didn’t falter your pace.

Your climax came as dizzying, filling the house with your scream and Steve’s loud groan following soon after.

Nothing but the pounding of your hearts and heavy breathing, as you sat tangled and spent. A little mewl of surprise bubbled on your lips when you felt Steve’s cock twitching and spurting more of hot come inside your fluttering walls.

It was hotter and wetter than how it felt ever before; and the thought of Steve’s cum filling up through your cervix made your pussy clench around him.

When you slid off him a while later, a thick dollop of cum dribbled out of you. Steve put your panties back in place, cotton quickly filling and staining with the mixture of juices.

“That won’t do.” Steve frowned, as he pulled the waistband of your panties and glanced at the mess between your swollen folds.

“You’re dripping it all over and it has to take.”

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant - your brain fuzzy from the aftershocks and bliss - Steve picked you up.

He carried you to the bedroom and dropped you onto the bed. He got his t-shirt over his head in a split of a second, then moved your pliant body around, getting rid of all of your clothes as well.

“Stay here.” He pointed at you and walked out of the bedroom.

You did enjoy the view of his naked ass moving. As well the way muscles in his back flexed.

When Steve returned, he had three climbing ropes in his hands.

“What are you planning mister rescuer?” You arched a brow.

He merely winked at you, joining you on the bed and straddling you. He weaved the blue cord around your wrists, binding them to the headboard. One of the red ropes tied around your left ankle; the other around the right.

You expected Steve to tie your legs to the foot of the bed, but instead he bent your legs at the knees and pushed them up toward your chest and slightly to the sides. The ends of the rope he tied to the headboard as well.

Once he was done, your breath was quickened again, as your vulnerable exposed position registered.

“Now,” Steve knelt back and ran a finger up your ass, “all my cum will stay nicely snug in your pussy.”

He scooped whatever dribbled out of you and pushed it back into your quivering cunt. He was right. In this improvised bondage version of a mating press, your hips were tilted up enough for the gravity to work in favor of impregnation.

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve looked at you, love and desire shining in his eyes.

From your gorgeous face, hair sticking to your sweaty skin; your breasts shaking with each breath and your lovely legs strained and bound; to your gorgeous ass and glistening, swollen folds.

A thick trickle of his cum lingered just below your leaking hole. He moved his hand slowly up your ass, reaching up to push that one drop back inside you.

“I wish I could preserve this image forever.” He murmured.

Then paused.

Slowly, Steve’s gaze shifted from your pussy to your face. His eyes darkened and a naughty, evil really, smirk curved his mouth.

“What are you thinking, Steve?” You asked warily, partly scared of his wicked idea and partly excited.

Steve got off the bed, but returned rather quickly.

With your camera in his hands.

“You can’t be serious.” You squeaked, squirming against your bonds. But they were fucking secured top notch, you were unable to even pull your legs closer together.

“Why not?” Fingers of his left hand returned to your heated skin while he held the camera in his right hand. “You take photographs of nature. What’s more natural than this?”

He traced one of your swollen folds and pulled it slightly to the side, exposing your hole and the white cream filling it.

A shutter clicked. First photo of your pussy saved on the memory card.

Steve took a few more photos, from different angles. Some close-ups of his cum, some a wider perspective including your stretched body visible between your spread legs.

He moved closer, kneeling up and positioning his hardened cock between your sopping folds.

He moaned as he watched his dick slide back and forth; looked up at your face and held your gaze when you whimpered as the head of his cock bumped against your swollen clit repeatedly.

“What’s more natural than a pretty cunt serving its purpose?” Steve rasped out, guiding the tip into your opening.

He angled the camera again, snapping a picture of your pussy opening up for him. Then a series of photos as he slowly pushed inside.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re taking me so good.” Steve bit down on his lip as he thrust deeper. “Such a fucking beautiful sight.”

He flipped the camera function to video, recording as he buried himself in your wet cunt. Your wrecked moan at the stretch, too. And the squelching sound of a filled pussy.

Steve’s free hand rested on your mound, thumb drawing the hood over your clit up and then resting on the hardened nub. Your hips bucked when he started rubbing.

He tilted the camera up, making sure to register all of your body before focusing on your face. You whined his name aloud.

When you noticed the camera pointed at you, you closed your eyes and turned your head to the side embarrassed.

“Don’t be shy on me, sweetheart.” Steve cooed, maintaining a steady pace. “You’re stunning. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. And your pretty, little pussy-”

He returned the lens between your spread thighs, recording every detail of his cock driving into you.

His dick shined with your juices and remnants of his cum. Your folds were puffed and darkened, and your clit crushed under his big thumb. Your wetness smeared around, glistening on your ass and thighs, as well shimmering on the hair above Steve’s cock.

“She’s swallowing me, doll. Greedy, little pussy.” Steve growled, picking up his rhythm.

“What she’s hungry for, sweetheart? Huh?” Though his hand was shaking slightly, he managed to move the camera so it was recording your face again.

“Tell me, what she’s hungry for?” He delivered a firm smack atop your clit that made you squeak and clench around him.

“It’s hungry for your cum!” You cried out.

You felt the heat engulf you whole, felt it almost burn the skin off your cheeks from the inside.

Steve always had a penchant for dirty talk, but it wasn’t always as nasty. Just a few lines here and there. Something about fucking you bare, trying to knock you up, made him wilder. And he forced you to interact along with him.

“Wants to be filled?” Steve’s raspy voice prompted again, another slap stinging your clit.

“It wants to be filled so bad!” Your need overcame the embarrassment.

With your eyes still closed, you babbled all the filth you were shy to admit, but everything you knew Steve wanted to hear.

“Wants you to fuck it hard and come inside. Please, Steve. Need you- Need you to make me take it! Fill my belly and make it swell!”

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Steve nearly came at the sputter of your dirty words. “My sweet, fucking, dirty girl.”

He put the camera down on the side of the bed. He didn’t bother to switch it off.

It recorded a slightly blurred angle of Steve’s hips driving into you, his balls slapping against your butt as he leaned fully on top of you and bottomed out.

It recorded the sounds of your bodies - wet squelching, skin slapping, Steve’s heavy groans and your high pitched cries; and filthy demands.

“I know you’re close, sweetheart.” Steve stretched himself over you and propped his weight on his forearms on both sides of your head.

“I am! I am, I’m so close, Steve!”

Your body wanted to move along with his, to rock up into him and touch him, but your tied limbs prevented you from doing so. You could only lay there and take whatever Steve gave you. However he gave it.

“I’ll get you there, I promise.” He nipped along your jaw, lavishing each sting with a lick of his tongue. “First, though-” he paused to kiss you fully.

A surprisingly thorough kiss, considering how frantically his hips were pumping you.

Steve’s voice turned into a low, gravelly growl.

“Tell me your purpose, my sweet fuck doll.”

So close to the edge that your toes were curling, you weren’t resilient enough to fight for more dignity. You knew what hot, humiliating words Steve fished for.

And you knew you could scream them out, because once he untied you and you left the bedroom, Steve would respect you like he always did. He would worship the ground you walk on and cherish you. Give you the stars, if he could.

“My p-purpose-” your voice choked on a moan as Steve angled his hips, driving his cock into that spongy, oversensitive spot inside you.

With a whine you dropped your gaze down, unable to look right into Steve’s eyes as you cried out the words.

“To be bred! Fuuuuck. To be bred and have your babies! Be y-your, ah, little housewife. To serve you, serv- Fuck! Steve!”

“I got you, sweetheart.” Steve groaned, leaning his forehead against yours.

He slowed his pace, but each snap of his hips drove his cock into you deep and rough. Skilled, coarse fingers maneuvered between your bodies, finding your clit.

A few strokes over your nub combined with the incessant pounding into your sweet spot were enough to push you over the edge.

You clenched your hands around the ropes that tied your wrists to the headboard as you shattered. Steve’s choked, low moans lost in the sound of your keening, as he came right after you.

Steve dragged his lips across your cheek toward your lips. Kissed you slowly, and wet. Your ragged breaths mingled, a string of saliva stretching between your mouths and popping.

He remained buried inside you, his cock twitching and spurting more cum into your clenching channel.

“I fucking love you.” Steve breathed heavily, a huff of chuckle at the end of his confession.

“Mhmm. I love you, too.” You opened your eyes halfway. “You perv.”

You both laughed, a quiet, intimate sound between lovers that knew each other to the tiniest bone.

With a displeased groan, Steve pushed himself up. He was careful as he sat back, not wanting to slip out of your pussy too quickly.

His gaze focused on your joined bodies as he withdrew inch by inch. His cock glistened with thick cream; your walls fluttered at the friction. He admired your open hole for a moment then squeezed your puffed folds between his fingers.

“Gotta keep it in, sweetheart.” Steve tugged on your folds lightly, keeping them pinched between his fingers.

“I could make you come again. Help your pussy swallow more of it into your womb.” His eyes, still hazy with desire, drifted back to your face.

You groaned. Your cunt clenched at the mere idea of another orgasm shattering your body.

“How about we leave it as it is for now?” You wiggled your butt as much as you could in your restraints. “You can do more nasty things to me in the upcoming days.”

Because you knew if you allowed Steve to make you come again now, he’d use his mouth. And if he used his mouth, he would switch into the overstimulation mindset - he always did that when he went down on you.

You were plenty ruined today without that.

“As you wish.” Steve sighed, with exaggerated disappointment.

“But I’m keeping your legs tied up for a bit longer.” He announced, releasing your folds and patting them less than gently.

You squeaked and glared at him, but it only made him grin.

“Better untie my hands.” You said, making a comically frowny face. “So I can call for the mountain rescuing service to save me from a brutal bear’s captivity.”

Steve laughed and plopped down on his ass, then stretched himself on the bed crosswise. He reached for the camera and finally turned recording off.

He did switch to a browsing mode, though.

“Stop working yourself up again!” You reprimanded him when you realized why Steve moaned suddenly. “Untie me and bring me food.”

“Isn’t it your purpose to serve me food, little housewife?” Steve propped himself on his elbows and looked at you with a cheeky grin.

“Can’t do that while I’m bound.” You smiled sweetly.

Steve moved up and leaned over you, untying the ropes around your hands in two swift moves. He rubbed the skin on your wrists then placed a soft kiss on each.

“Hmm, brutal bear has to think of ways to keep you full and still able to do your housewife duties.” He winked at you.

“Yes, yes, can you think of that while we’re eating?” You rolled your eyes.

As on cue, your stomach rumbled.

“You stew here.” Steve moved down your body and kissed your abdomen, then hopped off the bed. “I’ll reheat everything. Want some wine, too?”

Slipping his pants back on, Steve left the bedroom. And you inside it.

With your legs still up and spread, your hips tilted up and cum brewing in your cunt.

“Are you fucking serious?!” You yelled after him.

His response was an impudent snicker.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #chris evans smut #mountain rescuer steve rogers #mountain rescuer steve rogers x reader #steve fic: nature's beauty

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hftechnology · 2 years

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rieamena · 3 months

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take my hand until the sun goes down

kenji sato & baseball critic!reader headcanons

the first installment

requests put in by the lovely @despacito-uwu16 (bless your beautiful big brain)

marriage hcs ♡

we all know how much ken is in love with you but after that stunt he pulled at the championship game, it got a whole lot worse. he would not let a single chance to call you his fiancée pass by. afterparty following a challenging game? "can't make it, i miss my fiancée." team planning a dinner? "let me ask if my fiancée wants to come!" trying to get out of an agonizing conversation? "oh, my fiancée's calling me." he does not miss a BEAT when it comes to you. and after you got married!?!? oh let me tell you…

he physically cannot stop talking about you. something sweet that you did, how much you are for him, how much he loves you. its gotten so bad that his teammates have to tread lightly when speaking to him just to not trigger a 20 minute long rant about you (they're just jealous!!!). "i took the stray that showed up at my house the other night to the vet and it turns out she's really sick…" "really? that's so sad. you know, that actually reminds me of how my wife and i were eating bread this morning and she just looked so pretty." "how are those two things related!??!"

personal headcanon here but kenji cannot cook for the life of him. he can chop up his vegetables and take out seasoning from the cabinet but do NOT put that man near a stove. he will burn the kitchen down. unfortunately, kenji knew of his innate talent to someway somehow manage to cause chaos everytime he turned on an oven. so what did he do? he started watching you while you cook; occasionally taking notes on online recipes he'd think you'd like. every time you had to leave for an interview or babysit chiho, ken would load up the stove and start practicing. once he felt like he got good enough, kenji surprised you with breakfast in bed. french toast, eggs, bacon, and fruits were laid out on a platter, the delicious smell of it all and the sound of your husband coaxing you from your sleep. "wake up, my love. i made something for you~"

his petnames for you gradually changed as well. 'baby' turned into 'my love', 'my pretty girl' turned into 'my pretty wife', 'princess' stayed though. he loves your reaction when he calls you princess. your eyes become lidded as you look him up and down seductively, "so… are we gonna fuck or…?" ken threw you over his shoulder, teasing your body as he walked to the bedroom, "don't need to ask me twice. you gonna' ride me?" "that was my plan all along, pretty boy."

the first time you called kenji your husband to his face, he stopped thinking. his knees buckled, his heart started racing, his breathing got heavy. he genuinely thought he was about to die but he would be doing so in your arms so it was far more bearable. also!!! he has to kiss you at least three times a day or he dies (i dont make the rules!!). most days, kenji peppers your face in kisses in the morning, presses a kiss to your cheek or forehead in the afternoon, and gives you the most loving and deep kiss just before you head to bed

"[name], i have a crush on you. i love your voice and your smile and you're just so beautiful. i'm in love with you." ken wrapped you in his arms, speaking lowly "ken, we're married. we've been together for six years." "i know but still. just say you don't accept my confession." kenji huffed "no, i do! i have a crush on you too! the biggest one actually. please date me…"

children hcs ♡

kenji is THE girl dad. no questions asked. full stop.

kenji cried and i mean CRIED when you told him you were pregnant. you planned it in such a cute way honestly, it's a shame he didn't get it at first. you baked a couple buns and put them in the kitchen oven. simple, right? wrong. when ken got home and you kindly asked him to look in the oven for you, he was mildly confused. "you just have a lot of bread in here." you lightly pushed him out of the way, taking out every bun except one. "and now?" "you have one bread in the oven." "try again." "you have a roll in the oven." ken winked at you, swearing that he got it right this time. "not a roll but a…" "a….?" "there's a bun in the oven, kenji! i'm pregnant!"

he was the (self-proclaimed) master of the art of ponytails and braids, often getting compliments from other parents on his skills. his mornings usually started with your daughter climbing onto his lap, handing him a hairbrush and a collection of colorful hair ties. kenji would carefully detangle her hair, his hands gentle but efficient, and then he would create intricate braids that she would show off to her friends at school

kenji also knew every princess, superhero, and storybook character by heart. his nights often ended with him sitting on the edge of his daughter's bed with you, reading her favorite stories with dramatic flair, his voice changing for each character, making her giggle and beg for one more chapter.

one evening, as the sun set and the playground began to empty, she ran up to her dad, breathless and excited. she had found a shiny pebble and declared it to be a magical gem. kenji knelt down, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and listened intently as they wove an elaborate tale about the pebble's powers. he played along, his imagination as vivid as theirs, and they spent the rest of the evening concocting a story that would become a cherished memory.

and at his baseball games, he would always scan the crowd for his two girls, and once he found you cheering loudly in the stands, he never failed to flash his signature smile and give you both a wink.

"i mean, she needs a sister. don't want her growing up an only child like me." kenji whispered as you placed your baby daughter into her bassinet. "darling, if you want another baby, just say that." "please please please, can we have another one??" "not right now. but yes ken, we can have another baby."

requests for them are open <3

taglist <3

@mochminnie @yellowheartz @ririkacchi @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @reit0o @luvshleyyy @lovingyeet @stickypaperstarlight @raee-dreeaaamz @rreasonablydumbb @bandolls @gingersnap126126 @automalvo @spiderboogie @shellspider @blogscach @nightingale047 @deadbydad @deadbydad-writes @phantomface

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thepringlesofblood · 2 months

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ok so like. murderbot is famously anti-food right? but consider. we know secunits have a sense of smell. it mentions liking/not liking plenty of smells across the series (the 'dirty sock' human smell, ART's showers smelling good.)

where i'm going with this is that good food smells good. and i don't think mb has ever been around any good food. like think. academic surveys, mining installations, close-quarters space travel, these are not places or occasions known for their cuisine. its experience of food in an olfactory sense is probably limited to ration packs & corporate cafeteria lunch settings. until relatively recently, it had never even been through the 'human' parts of stations before, where it may have smelled some sort of actual food in passing. it's probably seen plenty of other types of food on media, but never smelled any of it.

so imagine. come with me on a mind journey. mb stopping in on Mensah's actual house for some reason during the day, and one of her spouses or something is baking gingerbread (very much the kind of cookie that fills up the whole house with good smells). like. would it even recognize it as being food necessarily? gingerbread is very much one of those smells that everyone tries to recreate and no one quite can. I imagine it's not thrilled with the concept of ovens in general (humans please stop putting your hands in/near hot things), but imagine it frantically trying to place the smell and mensah being like hey you good? and it being like theres. a smell. something must be wrong somewhere. and mensah being like oh no that's just gingerbread, tano's baking cookies. and it's like that's FOOD???

#or like. if the presaux humans have a get together and someone makes brownies #like actual real chocolate melty gooey buttery brownies #or tikka masala #or donuts #or sourdough bread #ffs what if preservation has some form of a ben & jerry's?#smelling waffle cones for the first time is a spiritual experience #look I just feel bad that mb can't experience the rapture of sinking your teeth into a warm cinnamon roll #but also like. I am so fascinated & heartened by the possibilities of mb smelling good things #source: it came to me in a dream #murderbot #tmbd #cw: food #original post

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passivenovember · 4 months

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thinking about the first time Billy has cherry pie and the lengths he'll travel to have it again.

Fresh Cherries (part one)

Because it's December, Neil makes concessions.

Billy isn't allowed to do whatever he wants, never that, but his leash isn't vice-like. There's some give as he tests his boundaries when there's snow on the ground. Billy isn't sure why, but he isn't about to ruin a good thing.

But. Steve calls on a Wednesday night and says, "Come over."

Billy has to chew and swallow the automated response he's used to giving. It's a school night, Neil'd kill me, and feels like he just got dusted with sugar and put in the oven. Says, "Sure. Let me ask my dad."

"Just sneak out," Steve tells him.

Billy checks the alarm clock on his bedside table. "It's seven thirty."

"So?"

"So, it's not sneaking out hours."

"You're such a stick in the mud," Steve says.

"I'm not, I just--" don't feel like getting my teeth knocked in. Billy picks at the threads in his duvet cover. Counts to three. "I want to be a good influence on you, Harrington."

Steve squaks. Some bright, quaffed bird. "I'm a year older than you!"

"Only 'cause you got held back in the third grade," Billy says. He flops over onto his belly, bringing the phone with him as he tries not to get wrapped up in the chord when Steve laughs.

"This is what I get for telling you all my deepest darkest shit," Steve rustles on the other end of the line and Billy imagines him in bed, or laying on the couch. Maybe flat on the carpet, near the fireplace, shirtless and eating chocolate covered strawberries--

"C'mon," Steve says gently, "Be a bad influence, come hang out with me."

"My dad--"

"Just sneak out, Malibu."

Billy grunts, not wanting to tell the truth, kind of into how Steve's growing more and more whiny as the scene presses on. "I dunno."

"C'mon, it's not hard. I sneak out all the time. Out of my house and into my car and in through your window--"

"--That's different. Your parents don't give a shit where you are."

"You're right. Who cares, though? I'd still sneak out to see you even if they had a bell permanently installed around my neck."

Billy's heart feels like raw cookie dough, sticking to the ribs around him as he bakes and proves under some bright, shining, plastic feeling. "Are they home this week?"

"Nope," Steve says, and the P explodes over the phone line. Wipes out half the city in his excitement. "Mom bought a ton of shit to get me through 'till the twenty-eighth, so we can--"

"You're spending Christmas alone?"

"I always spend Christmas alone," Steve says. Quiet sits heavy, like a filed of snow, between them. Stretching out in every direction. "It's not a big deal. We celebrate Christmas in November."

"With Thanksgiving?"

"Nah, right at the start of November."

"Alongside Halloween?" Billy spats, sitting upright on the mattress. It jostles underneath him. He feels like a raft lost in some huge, freezing, disorienting sea.

He tries to get his barring's, tries to sink his heel into Steve's answering laugh but its hollow like a dead tree, "One year Santa was my dad, dressed as the Cowardly Lion." Steve says.

Billy tries to imagine it. He puts the hard, chilled seed of Steve's childhood near his molars and chews on it for a while, trying to envision the light refracted from all the ways childhood has to bend and contort to suit a kid's parents.

"I never believed in Santa," He says. An offering. Sadness for sadness, or something, like I see you.

Steve hums, and that horrible field of ice and snow between them melts, just like it always does. "Come over," He says, not as hollow as before. Blooming.

Billy puts his shoes on.

The Harringtons live in some demented alternate reality where Christmas in December is all for show. Their house has been decorated since the last time Billy was here in Saturday.

He knocks and stares down at Santa, the looming silver-screen image from his childhood, dressed in a floral button down, board shorts and flip flops. Somehow feels colder. When Steve opens the door, he points at it.

"My mom's theme this year is Blue Hawaii." Steve says.

Billy stumbles over the threshold, teeth chattering to shards in his skull. "That's not a Christmas Movie."

"Yeah, but it turns out, Santa can be anything. He's kinda like a chameleon."

"Santa isn't Elvis."

"He could be," Steve says.

Billy shrugs out of his jacket, handing it off, like always. Steve holds it close to his chest, watching with amusement as Billy takes in the foyer. Toes out of his snow-covered boots. "It's like a tiki bar made of pine trees instead of sweet grass."

Steve nods, still clutching the jacket.

His eyes are red.

Billy squints at him, padding closer. "Are you high?"

Steve giggles, bright like a fresh log in the fire.

Billy scrubs a hand across his face, trying to hide the way it makes him go up in Steve's flame. "You're such a dork."

"What? I thought we could--"

"I only have a few hours," Billy tells him gently, trying not to get lost in the sleepy, apple-red flush across Steve's perfect nose. "My dad'll--"

"Just tell him I'm left on my own for Christmas. Maybe he'll feel sorry for me and let you stay the night."

"How do you think I got him to agree to an 11:30 curfew?"

Steve blinks at him and then explodes into glowing, glaring joy. "Are you shitting me?"

"Nope, I'm all yours 'till 11:30."

Steve flushes again, clutching Billy's jacket closer to his chest. "But it's a school night--"

"Guess my old man took pitty on you. Such a lonely boy in his Elvis-themed mansion on the hill, it's kinda pathetic," Billy says, "In a cute way."

"It's not Elvis," Steve says, still grinning, "It's Blue Hawaii."

"Still cute," Billy shrugs, feeling hot all over. Feeling proud of himself. He nearly combusts when Steve moves into his space, eyes nearly going cross to focus on the bridge of Steve's nose.

Billy holds his breath.

He waits for Steve to say something, feeling that huge filed stretch out between them, but it's not snow-covered now.

It's thawing. It's burning up.

Steve wets his lips.

"Uh," Billy says intelligently, looking down when the sleeve of his jacket tugs at him, still viced in Steve's hold. "You can put that in the closet," Billy tells him, caught on the strech of skin over Steve's knuckles. "If you want."

"I don't," Steve tells him.

Billy looks up, eyes crossing again.

Steve winks. "You're warm," He says but Billy feels it, more than anything else.

The smell of marijuana and pine is overwhelming, searing through the air after the first shared joint.

Billy rolls his neck and asks if they can crack a window. Steve blinks at him, sealing the second joint with spit. "You trying to get caught, or something?"

"Caught?" Billy asks, trying to force his shoulders to relax. "But. I thought--"

"--The neighbors are nosy 'round these parts." Steve says. He tucks his rolling tray under the coffee table, and Billy watches with droopy red eyes the way his lips close around the butt of the thing.

Steve's lips are perfect.

If Billy was an artist he'd fill sketchbooks with watercolor renditions of that cupid's bow. His fingers would permanently stain with lapping waves of purple-pink, etching the warmth of breath into his nail beds so that the faucet would never run clear of this boy.

He could get lost in those lips. That hair--

Steve hands him the joint and Billy takes it, focusing on the cherry so he won't get lost in Steve's eyes, too, because he's looking. Always.

Billy tries not to drown in it and fails when Steve says, "Y'know. Your eyes are kinda like Blue Hawaii."

"Again with Elvis?" Billy rolls them, handing the joint back. "You're the one who stole his wig."

"My hair is not a wig, fuck you."

"Coulda fooled me."

Steve holds smoke in his lungs, exhaling it toward the popcorn ceiling as he says, "Your eyes are blue."

Billy snorts, laying with his back on the carpet.

"They're the bluest things I've ever seen," Steve says, ashing the joint. "And I've tried to find something bluer. Around town. I even went to the library to look for something in an atlas when Indiana disappointed me, like maybe the ocean is bluer and clearer in the Caribbean, or something, but no."

Billy's heart thumps, nailing his ribs to the floor underneath.

He counts the joints in the popcorn overhead. He feels Steve looking at him, feels himself burning from the inside.

"You're just the most detailed asshole who's ever lived," Steve says, softly.

Billy could sink into it. "Thanks."

Silence falls, again. It's comfortable. Billy stretches, a little bit, twisting until his spine cracks, until he feels like he could pass out from how relaxed he is.

Steve hands him the joint.

Billy shakes his head.

"Why not?" Steve asks.

"I'm laying down," Billy tells the ceiling, "I feel like if I smoke anymore my lungs will give out, or maybe I'll float through the ceiling and disappear."

Steve exhales more smoke. "And right before Christmas, too."

Billy sits crisscross on the carpet, watching Steve puff, inhale, puff, inhale. "You're really not stressed about being home by yourself for six days?"

Steve shakes his head.

"Why not?"

"I like having the house to myself," Steve tells him, "Besides, I feel like if I have to spend any more time with my parents this year I'm going to sink right through the floor." Teasing. An echo of Billy's childhood fear of ascending into the ozone.

Billy pokes him with his foot, flushed.

Steve finishes the joint and slides closer. Their knees touch. "What kind of Christmases did you have when you were growing up?"

Billy shrugs. "I'm sill growing up."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, just. I dunno," Billy gets lost in Steve's eyes, a little. Classic beauty. "It was the Coca-Cola Santa kind?"

Steve laughs at him, and then his palms are warm on Billy's knee caps. "The kind with Bing Crosby and miniature towns on the dining room table?"

Billy's mom loved to collect those goddamn things. Neil smashed them all when she ran away and killed herself.

He nods, relishing the weight of Steve's fingertips.

Steve fiddles with the hole in Billy's jeans. "What kind of food did you have?"

"Pizza," Billy says.

Steve blinks at him, lost. "That's not very Coca-Cola of the Hargrove's."

"My mom didn't like to cook."

"Funny," Steve says, combing through the tussle of hair on Billy's kneecap, "Mine doesn't either."

Billy aches to knit their fingers together until they meld, forming the kind of sweater you dig out from the back of your closet year after year, echoing on the stiff frigid breeze until it's tattered and falling apart.

Steve looks at him, smiling. "Do you want some pie?"

Steve guts and skins the freezer until it's empty. A carcass picked clean.

Mrs. Harrington must have spent her entire bonus at Melvalds on Christmas dinner, enough to feed four Steve Harrington's and all the people who are desperately in love with him.

Billy tries not to think about them and watches from the counter face, his sock feet thumping gently against the cabinet as Steve pulls dish after dish from a cloud of white exhaust, plopping containers onto the island. "Green bean casserole," Steve says, "Pumpkin pie, pecan, apple, blueberry--"

"--You're supposed to eat all of this?"

"You're gonna help me."

"I don't like green bean casserole," Billy says, yelping when Steve feigns death and collapses into the counter. "Jesus Christ--"

"I'm midwestern, that's a cardinal sin to me."

"Dope makes you dramatic, pretty boy."

"You hate midwestern people."

"Yeah," Billy says, giggling.

"You hate me."

"Shut up," Billy slips off the counter and onto his feet, examining every frozen item while Steve repacks.

"Which pie sounds good?"

"I dunno," Billy says, eyeing the blueberry with suspicion, "Don't we have to wait for them to thaw before we throw them in the oven?"

"I don't think so," Steve says, "I've already tried the cherry and that baked fine."

"I've never had it before."

Steve blinks at him, shocked. "How have you never had cherry pie?"

"My dad doesn't like cherries," Billy admits.

"Just because your dad doesn't like cherries--"

"--Look, my mom wasn't on great terms with the oven, and nobody else is going to waste time cooking shit my dad won't eat," Billy snaps. Feeling red-hot all of a sudden. Angry in a way he hasn't been in a long time for being reminded that other people's dads are shitty in the normal way.

Not like Neil.

Steve either doesn't notice or chooses not to take it personally.

He opens the refrigerator and pulls out a half-eaten cherry pie, picking at its cling-wrap until Billy can see the cherries where the glitter between layers of perfectly brown crust. Bloody little eyes staring up at him like dead fish.

"You can have the rest."

"The rest?" Billy demands, "But what if I don't like it?"

"Not possible," Steve tells him. He opens the microwave and attempts to shove the pie tray in, yelping when Billy snatches it out of thin air. "What--"

"--Aluminum will catch fire in the microwave." Billy snaps. He tries to find it annoying, but Steve just blinks those big, soft eyes at him and the anger washes away. "Get me a plate, bambi boy," He says.

Steve watches Billy plate the pie, giggling as his nose wrinkles in disgust over its dripping red innards. "This is so gross," Billy says.

"You won't think so, once you try it."

Billy walks it to the microwave, carefully pinching the edges of the plate between his palms. "I can't think of a single other instance where that has been true."

He turns the dial. Forty seconds.

Steve's watching him, face illuminated in the golden hum of the microwave.

"What?" Billy demands.

"Nothing," Steve says, leaning against the counter top, "I just can't believe I'm gonna be here when your life is changed forever."

Billy snorts, stalking to the drawer where the Harringtons keep their silver. "Still dramatic, pretty boy."

"Why do you always say that?" Steve wonders.

Billy freezes in place. Two forks in hand. He peers across the island at Steve, heart thrumming loudly. "Why do I always say what?"

"Pretty boy," Steve clarifies.

It hangs between them. The microwave hums, the longest forty seconds of Billy's life. "I," He says intelligently, "It's just. True."

"What is?"

"You're. Pretty," Billy says. And it's like having teeth pulled.

The microwave beeps.

Steve turns away, yanking the pie from its incubation, "Shit," He says, wiggling his fingers. "Plate's hot as hell."

Billy stands there watching him. Breathing. Dying.

Steve looks at him. "Well, do you wanna try it?" Billy nods. Doesn't move. Steve laughs at him. "Come here."

Billy goes easily, like a lap dog being called to perch. He and his forks stare down at the pie with caution, stomach churning at the congealed mess before him.

Steve grabs one of the forks from Billy and cuts the point off, blowing on it until its warm enough to eat. Steve pops it into his mouth, brown eyes falling closed. "Mmmm," He says, like someone would with a spooked and disgusted baby, "It's good."

Billy shakes his head.

"You're so dramatic," Steve says, cutting another huge chunk for Billy. He holds it in the air between them, eyebrows raised. "Trust me."

Billy stares at it. "Why's mine so big?"

"I want you to get the full range of flavor."

"But--"

Steve shoves the fork into Billy's mouth, swiftly depositing the little cherry eyeballs onto Billy's tongue. He coughs and sputters, lips curling around the fork as Steve yanks it away. "Chew," Steve says.

Billy does.

Like it's the first time he's ever done it, clumsy and a little rushed and very, very distracted by the way Steve's watching him.

"Swallow," Steve says softly, barely there.

Billy does. There's something on his face. On his lips.

"What do you think?" Steve asks, staring at them.

Billy resists the urge to lick it away, "Sucked," He says, expecting Steve to laugh, but.

Something rests between them, not growing or stretching or changing shape, but it's there. It suffocates.

Steve looks at him, somehow closer than he was before. "Sorry, pretty boy," He says.

Billy's heart stops. "Why would you say that?"

"It's true. You're pretty," Steve says, watching the red on Billy's lips burn brighter. "You've got a little something on your face." Billy lifts a hand, mouth falling open when Steve grabs his wrist. "Can I," Steve says, soft as summer rain, "Can I kiss you, Billy?"

Billy doesn't move as Steve licks into his mouth, Cherry washing away under the rough, sweet drag of intention.

THIS IS PART ONE!!!! OF A TWO-PARTER!

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I get around to part two <3

#harringrove #fluff #one shot #I'm not sure why this is set during christmas time since it's quite literally summer #but hey!#it be like that sometime #part one

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year

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Cautionary Tale on Carbon Monoxide

So, for the last 2 weeks or so my smoke alarm/carbon monoxide alarm has been beeping sporadically. I paid it no mind because there was no smoke, nothing was burning and I did not think it could be anything else. I assumed the alarm or batteries were going bad because they had been here forever ago.

So, we changed the batteries and bought a new alarm, and installed them through the house a week ago. The beeping stopped. However, a few days ago while I was cooking the beeping came back. Again, no smoke in the home and nothing was burning. We are searching trying to figure out why it keeps going off.

I constantly have my essential oil diffuser plugged in and running so some searches came back saying certain essential oils might set off the alarm if strong enough and my 16-year-old has been fear rubbing herself with Citronella essential oils(repellent for mosquitoes) because whenever the door opened these new breed mosquitos fly in and she is terrified if her face and body looking like a swollen pepperoni pizza🙄😂. (The concerns of a 16-year-old who was looking out for her upcoming first day of school face card status lmao)

Finally, after some YT videos and Google searches, we began to suspect it was beeping because of carbon monoxide. So we hurry and get out of the house, food still on the stove half cooked, and wait for the gas/electric company to come to investigate and fix the problem.

When the tech comes he walks inside the house and instantly the machine he carried to check the PPM set off a reading of 41. This level is highly dangerous and prolonged exposure can result in health risks and possibly death.😳

He continued to walk through the house and found pockets in the house where the PPM was 38-41(still dangerous). He goes into the kitchen and instantly says, I see your problem. He goes to the stove and points to my favorite, can't live without have used almost every time I cook 11" Copper Chef casserole pot and says this is the culprit.

Apparently, the size of the pot covers my entire burner so there is no ventilation happening under the pot which is bad. He then points to another favorite pot on the back burner and says this one is also bad because of the size of the pot. He turned on the fire under the Copper Chef pot and instantly his machine went up to 144 PPM😳.

I was appalled. He asked about how we all were feeling and asked who the cook in the house was and of course it was me✋🏽. I felt fine. I usually always have headaches and feel tired, he said I could be suffering from long-term carbon monoxide exposure and should go to the hospital to be sure.

To make this longer story just plain ol' long, I say all of this to caution you guys on pot sizes for your gas stove burners and to say it could be the things/ways you least expect.

Tips from the gas/electric company tech

-Make sure your pot is not bigger/wider than your burner flames.

-Turn on your overhead vent or open your kitchen windows when cooking for either or both of these: 1) If your pots are bigger than the burner flames or 2) To take an extra level of safety.

-If you are using bigger pots try to open closet doors throughout your home because the carbon monoxide can creep into the closed closet and remain there for hours.

-In your gas using ovens do not have any liners or protectors(the ones you put down to prevent spills or drips as you bake) on the bottom of the oven if they come anywhere near the two ventilation slits in the oven(where the flames/heat rises).

-If you have done all of the above and constantly feel lightheaded, dizzy, persistent headaches, fatigue, sleepiness, be safe and just get it checked out in the ER or Urgent Care.

Be safe out there y'all. Carbon Monoxide is known as a silent killer.

#PSA #carbon monoxide #cautionary tale #the more you know #Psa: carbon monoxide

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mikimakiboo · 2 months

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Muffins

Inspired by @ancientschampionau 's Real Age AU, in which Nightmare loses his corruption and goes back to his six year old form and the gang takes care of him as they all live in a farm (there's more things happening but I ain't gonna spoil lol)

I have already done fanarts, headcanons and comments, all that was left was a fanfiction ! (I think it's the first time I have been so invested in a story) Hope you'll like it and hope I got their personalities right :')

I've been everywhere in your asks and comments lmao I hope I'm not being annoying :')

English still isn't my first language so please excuse the grammatical errors ♡

The moon was high in the sky, it was very late, or very early depending on the point of view, everyone was sleeping, the four adults piled up on each other. Nightmare looked at them before slowly getting out of bed, the small skeleton had a mission and he needed everyone to be asleep. He carefully walked to their pillow nest to grab his giant bat plushie, Batsie he called her, and walked to the bed again, sitting Batsie near the edge in front of the sleeping pile.

- You watch them for me.

He commanded the bat. If anyone saw him talking to the plush he would never hear the end of it. Batsie fell over. Nightmare sat her straight again and put pillows on each side to prevent another fall. Once the bat was secured and after making sure no one woke up the small skeleton left the room, slowly closing the door behind him. He needed to be fast, Horror and Cross usually woke up quite early, he needed to be done by that time.

He could feel the cold floor through his socks, it was an old house, they hadn't install everything yet and for now their only source of heat was the fire place, so Nightmare had to wear socks in and out of bed so he wouldn't get cold.

He went to the kitchen, grabbed a chair and dragged it next to the counter before climbing on it and standing up slowly, he didn't want to fall after all. He grabbed the big cooking book, a gift from Crop as he never used it, and opened it to look through the pages until he found the recipe he was looking for: muffins. He wasn't allowed to help around in the house or with the farm work, everytime he tried they would grab him and put him back in the nest, but he couldn't just stay there and do nothing ! They all worked so hard to protect him, to take care of him and to renovate this house, he felt bad about not doing anything for them in return, so he decided that he had enough, he will bake them muffins and they will enjoy them because he will make them with love ! And chocolate. Cross loves chocolate, so if anyone says anything he could turn to Cross, he will surely stand on his side.

He rolled up his sleeves and gathered everything he needed to bake: two bowls, a whisk, a spoon, muffin molds, flour, sugar, cocoa powder and chocolate chips, baking soda, yogurt, milk, vegetable oil, an egg, and vanilla ! He stopped for a moment to make sure there wasn't any noise coming from the bedroom but all he could hear was silence. All the ingredients were there, good, because climbing up and down the chair was starting to hurt his back, and even if it hurt less thanks to the care Dust was putting into cleaning his wounds he still needed to be careful.

He read the instructions out loud to himself.

- First, mix the dry ingredients in a bowl...

Carefully, he measured his ingredients and put them in his first bowl: flour, sugar, baking soda, chocolate chips and cocoa powder. He looked up.

- Oh, I forgot to heat the oven !

He had seen Horror using it before, so he knew which buttons to turn. The oven biped, making Nightmare flinch and turn to the bedroom, but no one came out. He sighed in relief, he wanted this to be a surprise, if they woke up now and saw him then it wouldn't be a surprise anymore ! Also they might forbid him to finish baking.

He went back to his recipe, now mixing the wet ingredients in the second bowl: the yogurt, the milk, the egg with some parts of the shell that he had to pick out, the oil and the vanilla extract, before adding it to his first bowl and mixing again. He had to take a few breaks, the mix has started to thicken and it was hard stirring it with his little arms. Horror would have done that effortlessly, but the big guy was sleeping and Nightmare didn't want to wake him up for that, he could do it himself ! He was a big boy ! He has lived for five hundred years ! His body and mind got stuck at six though, but still ! He was perfectly capable of baking muffins for his parents gang.

The mixture finally got smooth after ten minutes of stirring to get rid of the lumps, he could now pour it into the molds with the spoon as to not make a mess. He filled each mold equally, opened the oven's door slowly, put on the thick oven mitts and carefully put his molds inside the oven, closing the door again.

- Twenty minutes.

He said, looking at the time on the oven's clock. He had a timer, but he didn't set it because the noise would wake up the others, and he obviously didn't want that to happen.

- Have to clean now.

Everything went well ! The muffins were in the oven and no one woke up ! Now all he had to do was put the dishes in the sink and the ingredients back in the cabinet, easy ! He grabbed everything and put it back in place, feeling proud of himself and very excited to show his surprise to everyone. He grabbed the bag of flour, the last thing on the counter, and got down of the chair. He tripped.

Danger. Something happened. Dust's soul clenched in his chest, waking him up in a jump, his breath fast and eyelights frantically looking around. Horror was under the others, Cross had his head on his chest, Killer was taking all the space as usual, Batsie was sitting at the end of the bed, Nightmare wasn't there. Nightmare wasn't there. Dust looked again, Horror, Cross, Killer, Batsie, no Nightmare. Panic started to take over, where was Nightmare ?!

He jumped out of the bed, looking everywhere in the room, maybe Nightmare was reading in a corner ? But there was no baby in sight. He stormed out of the room, quickly spotted light in the kitchen, and immediately teleported there. What was he doing this early in the kitchen ? Horror wasn't even awake yet !

A mess. Nightmare had made a mess. There was flour everywhere, from the floor to the cabinets and even himself. He sat on his knees, looking at the mess he made. Of course he made a mess. He always made messes. Back in Dreamtale he always made messes, that's why everyone hated him, because he couldn't do anything right, and now he had made a mess again in the kitchen when he was supposed to make his family a gift. He felt... terrible, his soul hurt, his arms hurt and his cheeks burned. They were going to be mad at him, so mad, he knew he didn't have to right to be alone near the kitchenware, it was too dangerous, he could hurt himself, and not only he did just that, but he also made a mess with the flour.

He heard a teleportation noise behind him. Oh. Oh no. He didn't want that, he didn't want to wake them up, it was supposed to be a surprise ! It was supposed to be perfect ! Why did he have to trip and fall ?! Why did he have to be such a good-for-nothing ?!

- Nightmare ! Are you okay ?! What happened, are you hurt ?!

Dust rushed to his side, kneeling in front of him, not caring that he just stepped in the flour, his baby was on the floor, not responding, he couldn't care less about what he stepped in. He quickly but gently made him look up, a hand on Nightmare's chin, looking for scratches, and was deeply relieved to find none.

- What were you doing here ?

He asked, but Nightmare just looked at him, his eyelights and little lips trembling, he sniffed. Dust quickly pulled him against his chest, sitting correctly to put his baby on his lap as he began to sob, grabbing his shirt with his tiny fists.

- It's okay, I'm not mad, I promise.. I'm not gonna yell at you.. I'm just worried..

He gently pat his skull, avoiding his back as he didn't know yet if Nightmare hurt himself there. The small skeleton pressed his face against his chest, he didn't want that to happen... his surprise was ruined now...

Dust looked around them, letting Nightmare calm down at his own pace, he noticed the bag of flour on the ground and the oven turned on with something inside of it. If Nightmare was hungry, why didn't he just grab a snack ? Why didn't he call him or the one of the others ?

- I'm sorry...

Nightmare sniffled. Dust looked down at him.

- What happened.. ?

He asked again, calmly, still peting his skull.

- I wanted t-to make muffins... for-for when you wake up...

He choked on his tears. Dust hated hearing him cry, he hated it so much, he wasn't supposed to cry, he was supposed to be happy, not hurt.

- It-it was supposed t-to be a surprise...

- You should have called us...

- No.. ! I-I wanted to make it myself.. ! You always do everything an-and I never do anything...

He protested. Of course it was the reason. Dust knew Nightmare felt like he needed to do something in return, to thank them, no matter how much they told him he didn't have to he kept insisting. The adult sighed.

- Night.. it's very sweet of you, really, but we are not here because we expect something from you, we are here because we love you, because we care about you, and love isn't something you need to be thankful for..

Nightmare sniffed, wiping off his tears has he listened to Dust. All his life he had been a burden, he just couldn't imagine that a whole group of people got together and collectively decided to unconditionally love him... it was just... too good to be true... they were too good to be true...

- If you wanted muffins we could have baked them together, it would have still been a surprise for the others...

Nightmare simply nodded, looking down. He felt Dust's lips against his head. A kiss.

- Did you hurt yourself.. ?

He nodded again.

- My arms and back hurt...

- Okay, stay here then, I'm going to clean up..

Dust got up with Nightmare to sit him back on the chair, giving him one last pat before grabbing the bag to put it back on the counter, he then took a broom and began cleaning the floor. Nightmare still felt bad, but not quite as bad as a few minutes ago, Dust wasn't mad, he didn't yell, and the others were apparently still sleeping.

Twenty minutes passed.

- I'll take them out.

Dust said before Nightmare even had time to lift his arms. He took the muffins out of the oven and put them on the counter to cool off. It smelled so good, and they looked good too ! Nightmare smiled as he looked at his creation, he was happy.

Now all he had to do was wait for the others to join them and then they could all enjoy some warm muffins made with all the love he had in his little body.

Some things didn't go as planned, but... it was still perfect to him, everything was perfect... and the muffins were delicious !

- the end -

#original post #nightmare sans #dust sans #dreamtale #dreamtale nightmare #passive nightmare sans #dusttale #fanfiction #realageau #deaged nightmare #babybones Nightmare sans #dreamtale fanfic #bad sans poly #bad sans gang #bad sanses #nightmare's gang #dusttale sans

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large-lit · 7 days

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[Getting a little more explicit this time around. Features depictions of oral stuff, a bit of fat-based gender play, stuffing, force feeding, some dirty talk/name-calling, size difference, and near-immobility. Lots of near-immobility.]

I wheezed as I threw my arms to one side, attempting in vain to clear the two massive sandbags that sat on my chest. All I succeeded in doing was making them wobble and plop against each other as the exercise ball-sized orb below growled impatiently. 'I know, I know, I know...!' I thought to myself, my breaths coming ragged and deep.

Much to my chagrin, I had woken up starving, and if I hadn't already been on the verge of tears, the thought of my final frozen pizza sitting lonely in my freezer would've done the trick. I'll admit, 5 AM wasn't my ideal time to have a pizza, but I was hardly going to discriminate. I needed that space for my grocery delivery later anyway, after all.

Steeling myself, I prepared to try again. If I could just manage one good mighty swing, I could probably get my elbow underneath myself and finish propping myself up that way... Given the amount I was attempting to haul, that was a pretty big 'probably' but then again, most things in my life were excessively large at this point.

I could feel another hunger pang brewing, so I took a few more steadying breaths, and... "Hnnnngh... Gah!" I'd done it! By some miracle, I had halfway made it onto my side, and a few shimmies later, I was all the way there. All that was left was to sit up, catch my breath again, stand up, probably catch my breath yet again, and then start lumbering into the kitchen to start getting some food ready.

My belly sloped off of me in this position, looking less like the imposing mountain it felt like at times, and more like a ski resort's slope. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I could almost see the tiny ski lift against my gut. Amidst the panting, I breathed out a laugh.

Summoning my strength into the arm that was now half-beneath me, I continued my gauntlet. If I wanted to satiate the hunger still gnawing at my insides, I'd need to get fully upright, and there were still a few steps remaining. A sudden growl erupting from my middle sent waves of weakness through me nearly strong enough to send me toppling onto my back, but my desperation held firm, and one huge push later, I was sitting upright on the edge of the bed, my legs spread wide to accommodate the hanging swell of my gut between them.

I should have gotten up right then and there, but typical me, I got greedy. 'Even if I got up and started the oven right now,' I thought, 'it'd still be nearly half an hour before I eat.' The thought again brought me to the verge of tears.

But wait... I remembered the apparatus my boyfriend had installed during his visit last month. In a box on the wall next to the bed, a tube like a fire hose sat wound up, clicking out to keep it from snapping back into the wall as I pulled it out by the nozzle. Once it had a decent amount of slack to it, I stuck the nozzle in my mouth and slammed my meaty fist against the big red button next to its home.

Immediately, my mouth and throat were filled with a thick, cold, creamy substance, and I swallowed rapturously as it pumped into my stomach. The rich, calorie-dense slurry my boyfriend had concocted was thick and largely flavorless, but it was filling, and in my state, that was all I cared about. With one hand, I clung tightly to my lifeline, a few tears actually escaping my closed eyes this time as my other hand fell to my belly, rubbing in slow, soothing circles as my ridiculous hunger began to abate ever so slightly.

I sat there like that for a little while. I don't remember how long it actually took me to start feeling full, but I didn't get to finish. Not on my own terms, at least. My eyes suddenly jerked open as I found the nozzle of the hose suddenly jammed down my throat, circumventing my need to swallow. I might've choked if I weren't so experienced with this, but I managed to hear the click of the nozzle's straps behind my head past my grunt of surprise. Before I could even process what happened, I felt fingers tangle themselves in my long hair and yank me back down onto the bed, my massive body wobbling and jiggling with the impact; my belly's motion was a bit more subdued, given how much cream and oil was already inside it.

As I came to rest, my hands steadying my jostling belly, I looked up to meet the teasingly wrathful gaze of my feeder boyfriend. I hadn't even heard the twink enter my apartment, much less my bedroom, and I would've congratulated his stealth if I had been able to speak. "My, my, getting gluttonous already this morning, babe? Couldn't even wait to get some real food in you before you just started sucking the calories down?" he taunted, leaning around me and running a thin finger around the edge of my saucer-sized nipple. "You still had one more pizza in the freezer, it wouldn't have taken /that/ long to prepare!"

He giggled as he effortlessly repositioned himself to lay parallel to me, his slender, toned legs hanging over the edge of the bed next to my enormous, ham-like thighs. "Guess I can't blame you... You're just a big fat pig, after all; a total slave to this huge tank..." He wrapped his arm around my belly and began rubbing those same, soothing circles into it as his tongue found my nipple and started playing with it. What little self-control I had at this point was long since spent, and I moaned around the feeding tube like a whore at the pleasure.

He was completely correct, after all. No matter how much I liked to act like I was in control of myself when I went out, on those increasingly rare occasions I managed to squeeze myself into clothes and look at least somewhat decent, the moment I got back behind closed doors, I was desperate to feel full again. Sometimes, more and more often nowadays in fact, I wouldn't even wait until I got home.

For instance, I'd often have to withstand the shame of ordering four large milkshakes at the fast food joint on the way home, and watch the cashier's expression change as I pulled up, and they realized that I did not have three friends with me. No, all of them would clearly be going into me, and nobody else. Sometimes they were amused by my shamelessness. Others were appalled by the abject gluttony. I think one of them might have actually had an awakening of some sort as I came to a stop at the drive-thru window, my massive, empty belly shaking beneath my shirt from the inertia, his face going red as his mouth quirked up at the side and he whispered, "Oh, /wow/..." before snapping back to attempting professionalism.

Speaking of snapping back, I was brought back to my current predicament by a sharp smack to my taut and tightening gut, making me squeal before I could stop myself. I hadn't realized just how full I was starting to get, and I looked up at my feeder with worried, tearful eyes.

Sadistic pleasure looked back at me, and he dug his thumb into my deep, wide navel as his fingers wrapped around my thick, doughy overhang. "Getting full, piggy?" he asked, voice dripping with faux concern. I could only nod and whimper in response, my fat fingers gently massaging at the upper half of my gut as he began gently wobbling the lower half. "Good. Why don't you go ahead and finish this tank off, and I'll go get that pizza going for you, hm?" The thought of actually eating at this point was hellish, and I so desperately wanted to say no, to tear the hose out and preserve what was left of my clearly dwindling mobility... But I just couldn't.

Beyond the obvious immediate facts of how removing the hose now would create a mess that I simply was no longer equipped to clean up myself (and how I was also nowhere near mobile enough to turn it off first from my current position), I just... simply did not want to stop. I knew I should have, I knew that this was probably my last chance to maintain some semblance of independence before I swelled yet closer to my impending immobility, but the thought aroused me like nothing else, and I sucked on the tube even harder as I nodded.

"Good pig," he smirked, giving my overhang one last squeeze before he departed, hopping to his feet and practically dancing out of the bedroom.

As my eyes watched him leave, I caught another glimpse of myself in the mirror. Before, he had always praised my gluttony with 'good boy', but as I took a close look at myself, my overstuffed belly towering over the rest of me, I could easily recognize the reason for the change in term. My manhood was completely buried by the intersection of belly and thighs, my body hair was incredibly stretched out by the copious amounts of blubber, and my tits were about as big as my head, if not bigger. If it weren't for what little facial hair remained seeking in vain to disguise the thick ring of fat around my neck, my gender would've been a lot more in question.

It was hard to say whether I was more masculine or feminine at this point, I was more just, 'fat'. Despite being assigned male, it was like my gender was being stripped away with my mobility. The brief notion that my boyfriend might've been spiking my food with growth hormones occurred to me, and though I quickly laughed it off, I couldn't entirely discount the possibility...

Before I could give it too much thought, though, the feeding tube began making a noise I had heard only a handful of times before, an empty clunking sound as it attempted to pump that which was not present. Two feelings filled me in its absence. Pride, firstly, that I had managed to consume the entire tank he had prepared for me, followed by worry that it was now just feeding air directly down my throat with no immediate way to alleviate the unavoidable discomfort I was now cognizant of.

I grunted and groaned, trying to twist and reach my porky hands behind my head to undo the straps, but with how full I was, the movement was putting too much strain on my shoulders and upper belly to make it possible. Trying not to panic, I slapped my hands against whatever I could reach. The mattress, the blankets, the pillows, nothing hard enough to get his attention... Ah, the bedframe! The sound was still somewhat muted, given how much fat surrounded my knuckle, but the metal frame made a satisfying clang as I knocked at it.

Blessedly, he seemed to have heard it, as I heard his voice from the doorway not long after. "Holy shit, fatty, you really did it? The pizza's not even out yet, you must've been /really/ hungry...!" His voice was filled with horny delight as he switched off the pump and knelt between my legs, keeping my mouth occupied by the nozzle as he busied his with my thighs and overhang.

My eyes rolled back in my head, and I moaned as he pressed his lips to my overstuffed belly again and again, his thin fingers grabbing heaping handfuls of my fat. His teeth grazed the underside of my belly, and I squealed around the mouthpiece, my fat thighs attempting to come together around him, only to be stopped by the resistance my belly provided.

Suddenly, he pressed his whole face into my doughy underbelly and grabbed my wrists, pulling my hands against my belly. "Hold this up," he ordered, his voice low and husky with desire as he pushed my gut up towards my head and away from my crotch. I did as instructed, and he began squeezing, kissing, and playing with the last obstacle to my manhood: my fat pad. It had really ballooned in size once I hit 400 pounds, I remember that much, but I hadn't kept close tabs on my weight for a while since then. Rather, I hadn't been able to keep tabs on it. He did it for me, keeping notes on his phone about it. Deep within that fat pad, I was about ready to burst, and when he pushed it back to expose my buried head to the cool air of the bedroom, I had to bite down on the nozzle to keep control of myself. "Alright, drop it," he commanded, and I did, the massive orb propped up by his head as he started in on his prize within.

His breath, hot and heavy against it, was followed by his tongue, plunging into the folds surrounding it to get as close to the base as he could. His hands roamed from inner thighs, to fat pad, to love handles, to navel, squeezing and groping me all over. "Come on, fatty," he husked into me as he pulled away momentarily for air. "Keep growing, keep getting fatter for me, baby. God, you're so fucking huge, won't even fit through your doors soon, already have to get your clothes custom, gonna fatten you out of this bed, outta this whole damn building, keep growing, kee-mmf!"

My climactic scream echoed up the length of the feeding tube as I exploded down his throat, his lips plunging to my base as he swallowed every drop. It felt like it lasted an eternity, my body twitching and jiggling as it finally came to rest and I began catching my breath for the umpteenth time that morning.

Finally, I saw him over the horizon of my gut, licking his lips and brushing his hair out of his face. "Good for you, hog?" he asked with his usual smirk, his voice teasing and loving again. I nodded, and grunted around the feeding tube. "Ah, right." As he reached around my head to undo the straps, we heard the oven timer go off, and he looked down into my eyes as the nozzle was removed. "You're still hungry, right?"

A long, thunderous belch erupted past my lips, and my fat hands slapped the sides of my gut as I replied, "I'm starved."

#male weight gain #fat fiction #large lit #male feedee #stuffing #weight gain

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omgpurplefattie · 7 months

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WIP Wednesday

I have two WIPs I am writing at the moment, the Mysterious Lotus Casebook Star Trek AU and the last instalment of my modern AU; so have a bit of both:

from Tomb Raiding for Beginners, chapter 5:

Fang Duobing dragged his eyes back up to the Klingon’s face, his almost translucent eyes of a color like warm amber, and his very insolent smirk. “You’re A-Fei,” he said, lamely. “Li Lianhua made oven gloves from parts of your uniform, and your AI runs our ship. He’s a very excellent AI and does a great job. Well done, A-Fei.” Fang Duobing stood, and stretched. Li Lianhua was picking up books from around the room, but only very few of them ended up in his bag. Apparently, his boasts about knowing ancient Nanyin had not been exaggerated. “Why don’t you take those?” Fang Duobing asked when Li Lianhua put several slim green volumes back down. “This was the command center of a science station,” Li Lianhua said. “What books do you think they would have had on hand? Manuals of emergency protocols, references for programming languages or communication codes. Very interesting for researchers, I am sure, but not really useful for me. I am already taking everything on stellar cartography as well as references to non-Nanyin languages.” “Programming languages please,” A-Fei said, holding out his hand. Li Lianhua handed him a hefty stack of dog-eared books which the Klingon took without flinching. “I am going to re-integrate my AI using Nanyin machinery,” he explained to Fang Duobing, “so all references are useful. I don’t want to harm your friend Wuyan. My own copy hasn’t gained sentience.” So that was the copy Li Lianhua had mentioned earlier. “Your copy was in the cat? The cat is an electronic device, not a person?” “Congratulations,” Li Lianhua said, “the contestant gets 99 points. For a hundred points, he might win a sonic toothbrush.” A-Fei threw a small book at him; Fang Duobing followed with half a broken Nanyin pen from a nearby console. “Good to see you have a similar opinion about his sense of humor,” A-Fei nodded. “We’ll be able to get on, aboard your so-called ship.”

from Detoxify, chapter 31:

Lan Hui had a secret passion for old cartoons where animal people did ridiculously dangerous things to each other and still weren’t hurt at the end; but he could see why the grown-ups didn’t think them valuable for building, well, their kids’ values, so green-haired wood sprites it was. He had a little TV on the computer in his own room now, and there he could watch silly old animal cartoons about greedy cats and clever mice with A-Liu as much as they both liked. “If you feel that A-Liu is uneasy about something you are watching, stop the show,” A-Fei had explained, “otherwise, just go ahead and watch fun things instead of educational ones.” A-Fei knew best how to take care of a kid that had been unhappy in their life before, because he had been unhappy in a very similar way when he was a kid, which was a long time ago and in China. “And look what a great guy you have become!” Lan Hui had said, and A-Liu had giggled and hugged A-Fei. A-Fei, whom he ought to call Di-gege because he was a grown-up, but he’d first heard of him as A-Fei, back on Halloween in the coffee shop near where Teddy’s dad lived. A-Fei who didn’t really like kids because when he had been a kid, all the kids around him had been little monsters, and so had he been (he said). But on both points, exceptions were made for Lan Hui, and now also for Feng Yangliu, who was called A-Liu for short.

#WIP wednesday #mysterious lotus casebook #di feisheng #fang duobing #li lianhua #modern au #city au #star trek au #i am writing #beware the spoilers if you haven't read these fics yet and plan to #that is especially true for the star trek AU #so i put the text behind a 'read more' as not to throw a major plot point right in everyone's face #but if you have read the fic so far you're good there is nothing new and spoilery here

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welldonehomesolution · 1 year

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Dryer Repair, Oven Installation, and Washer Repair Service near me - What You Need to Know

Home appliances are crucial to your daily routine, from laundry to preparing meals, and are highly relied upon to keep your home operating smoothly. So when something goes inaccurate with one of them, it can be a substantial inconvenience. That's where finding a reliable repair service comes in.

What is Dryer Repair?

Dryers are essential appliances that make laundry a breeze. They use heat to dry clothes and other fabrics quickly, which saves you time and energy. However, like any other machine, dryers can break down or malfunction. That's when you need to call a professional dryer repair service.

Oven Installation: What is it?

Installing a new oven may be challenging, whether remodeling your kitchen or replacing an outdated one. Rigorous planning and accurate measurements are needed to guarantee that everything fits and functions as intended. Therefore, it is advisable to let the professionals handle it.

What is Washer Repair Service?

Washers are another essential home appliance that can break down or malfunction. They can leak, stop spinning, or fail to drain, leaving you with a pile of wet clothes. Fortunately, professional washer repair services can diagnose and fix these issues quickly. They can replace broken parts, unclog drains, and perform other repairs to get your washer working like new again.

How to Find Washer Repair, Oven Installation, and Dryer Repair near me

Now that you know what dryer repair, oven installation, and washer repair services are, it's time to find a reliable provider near you.

Ask for Referrals

Ask friends, family, and neighbours for recommendations. They may have used a local repair service and can give honest feedback on their experience.

Look for Certifications and Licences

Ensure your chosen repair service is certified and licensed for your specific appliance brand. This ensures they have the necessary training and expertise to fix the issue.

DIY Appliance Repair Tips

Clean the Lint Filter on Your Dryer

A clogged lint filter can reduce the efficiency of your dryer and even be a fire hazard. Make sure to clean the lint filter after every load to prevent build-up.

Check the Oven Door Seal

A worn or damaged oven door seal can cause heat loss and uneven cooking. Check the seal regularly and replace it if necessary.

Clean the Washing Machine Hose

A clogged washing machine hose can cause leaks and other issues. Make sure to clean the hose regularly to prevent build-up.

Choosing the Right Appliance Repair Service

Now that you know the benefits of professional repair services and some simple DIY maintenance tips, selecting the right provider for your needs is essential. Here are some additional factors to consider:

Availability

Please ensure the repair service you decide is available when required. Many providers offer same-day or emergency repair services for urgent issues.

Reputation

Check online reviews and ask for referrals to ensure that the repair service you decide has a good reputation in your community.

Experience and Expertise

Ensure the repair service you select has experience and expertise in repairing your specific appliance brand.

Conclusion

In conclusion, finding a reliable repair service for home appliances is essential to keeping your household running smoothly. Queries like a dryer repair near me, oven installation near me, washing machine repair near me or washer repair service near me, following the tips in this article can help one find a qualified provider.

For the original version on quora.com visit at: https://welldonehomesolutions.quora.com/Dryer-Repair-Oven-Installation-and-Washer-Repair-Service-near-me-What-You-Need-to-Know

#Dryer Repair near me #Oven Installation near me #Washing Machine Repair near me #Washer Repair Service near me

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xkittypunkerx · 4 months

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SCREAM - A Beautiful Lie

Chapter Summary and Gang Members: Punk and his gang realize that AJ Lee has returned and begin to make their plans.

Gang Members

2009 Heel CM Punk

SOA Season 1 Jax Teller

James Keenan aka Corey Graves

The Shield Seth Rollins

Jimmy Jacobs

Chapter two

-April Mendez-

Within the next week or so, any stranger would think that we've been living here for years. We installed an amazing improved stereo system, flat screen TV, and a few other needed appliances and such. I guess you could say that our parents really love us.

I groggily opened my eyes to the smell of bacon and eggs flowing through the house. Kofi must be over here showing off his secret culinary skills. I stretched as I got out of bed, and made my way down to the kitchen. "Well look who finally decided to get up," Kaitlyn laughed as she swallowed a forkful of hash browns.

I rolled my eyes, "C'mon, I didn't sleep in that late!"

I noticed that both Kaitlyn and Kofi were staring at the oven clock and suppressing laughter, so I followed their stare and saw that I had slept in until 10 AM! I was supposed to be at an illustration intern meeting in exactly 30 minutes...

"Shit!" I cursed as I ran down the hall to my room and quickly changed into a black and grey pinstriped business suit, straightened my hair, and applied just a slight amount of makeup, enough to look like myself but not so "scary."

I rushed to the kitchen again, noting I only had 10 minutes left. Good thing that this event was on campus, otherwise I'd be mega screwed.

"Ok, I should be back around one, so you guys can go to lunch without me if you want. Um...don't forget to clean up. Peace out!" I yelled as I ran out the door to the truck.

If I wasn't in such a rush, I could've had just enough time to laugh at myself. Seriously, I just sounded like their mother! All humor aside, I pressed the pedal to the metal and pulled into the parking lot mere seconds before the meeting was about to begin.

When I walked in, it turned out that they were still distributing name tags. And much to my surprise, people were still stumbling in after me. Sometimes I honestly believe I worry way too much.

The meeting itself was a great success. I ended up meeting some pretty cool people, some of which I had common classes with this semester, got brochures for internships, and even received a couple of compliments on the drawings I've gathered thus far for my portfolio. Anyone near me could tell that I was excessively ecstatic as I practically skipped back to the truck. At this rate, tonight would definitely be a party night.

I drove home to find two very strange things: it smelled like shit and Kaitlyn had left a note. I plugged my nose in suspicious disgust as I crept into the bathroom to see if I could figure out the source of the massive stench.

I groaned as I looked at the chunk of nastiness resting at the bottom of the toilet. The water was raised unnaturally high, and something told me this thing was clogged. My suspicions were confirmed after four flushes, and no success. No matter how many times I tried to flush afterward, it didn't go up or down...now that's really gross. That note better explain what's going on here.

The note was written on the back of some receipt and resting on the corner of the counter.

It read:

AJ, I'm leaving to go look for a job. Kofi said he'll stay here a little longer, but he'll probably be gone before you get back home.

Love, Kait the Great

I rolled my eyes after reading her signature, but then realized that it must've been Kofi who was the one responsible for the clogged toilet, though it doesn't really seem like something he would do...

I groaned as I pulled the phone book out from under the kitchen desk and looked for a plumber. I dreaded the thought of some gross fat man coming here while I'm helpless and alone - talk about paranoia. Remember: keep the past where it belongs.

I forced myself to dial the number and sat on the couch waiting for him to arrive.

-Jax Teller-

"Is anyone else ready to go look for new prey? I need someone to fuck with," I asked in a bored tone as I skimmed through some text messages in my cell.

All of the guys agreed in their own way as we chugged our liquor besides, as if it were water. At this point in our world, liquor was almost necessary to keep the entertainment and creativity flowing.

As I lounged back in the leather recliner, a random memory suddenly entered my mind, causing some beer to slip past my lips as I began laughing. "What's so funny, man?" James asked, eyeing me strangely.

"Do you guys remember April Mendez, from like 3 or 4 years ago? Damn, I would just love to go hunt her down and finally finish off our first project," I suggested.

Punk had a thoughtful look on his face, as if he was reliving memories, before he finally ended up cheering for the idea. He should be the one to support the idea the most, considering the fact that AJ Lee was his girlfriend at the time.

"You know, that would probably be way better than any of the kills we've done lately. It would be challenging to find her, but damn would it be worth it."

Seth stood up and walked over to the computer nearby. He was always the pro when it came to stalking people. "Don't worry, I'm on it!" he announced with a confidence-filled grin.

He quickly typed April Mendez's name in some weird college database and you'd never believe it, but we found her. It would seem that AJ Lee must have forgotten all about us, because she was stupid enough to return to the neighborhood for her college education.

It's a shame she has no idea what she's in for. And I can promise you that she will greatly regret the day she ever decided to return to Chicago. We each exchanged pleased looks as we gathered around the kitchen table, shoving all the fast food wrappers and bloody utensils out of the way so we could plan properly.

The following morning, Punk, Seth, and I decided to go gather some dirt on AJ Lee, find out where she lives, and create a reason for us to return to her new home later tonight. AJ Lee attended a rather prestigious college located right in the heart of Chicago. It was a sprawling campus, with several residential locations.

Of course, since AJ was so much classier than the other freshman, she's living in the gated community of condos. Luckily, the community was along the edges of the campus, right near a thick forest

Seth drove the van off the main road and down the bumpy, grassy hill to the right. If our calculations were correct, then we should be close to her condo...number 233 A. Once we saw the black rod iron fence, we decided to jump it and try our luck.

"Hers is just a couple feet down the street," Punk noted as we walked slowly down the sidewalk.

I decided to go ahead of the other two slightly, just to get a sneak peak inside the house. As it turns out, it would seem we weren't alone. A girl and a guy were both sitting at the kitchen table, chatting. Looks like all we can do is sit and wait until these little inconveniences disappear.

"Hmm, maybe we could snag that chick as an encore or something?" Seth suggested, nodding toward the black and blond-haired girl.

"That could work...or we could just use them against AJ somehow. I don't really give a shit what we do with them, I just want this to be the best work we've ever done," Punk said.

I nodded, "Don't worry, man. We'll use all our tricks on this one!"

We waited in the bushes until we were sure that both people left the condo. Then, we picked the back door lock and made our way inside. Seth whistled and said, "Check out this place!"

I made my way further into the condo, walking down the short hallway until I ran into two closed doors. "Which one do you think is hers?"

Punk shrugged and kicked both doors open with just enough force to get the job done, yet keep the doors' hinges intact. One room was green and the other was black and white. "This one's definitely her room," he confirmed as he stepped into the green room. Oh that's right, green was her favorite color.

She had tons of band posters plastered across the walls, a HIM comforter on the bed, and framed pictures of her with those two other people along the shelves attached to her desk. Punk stared hard at the photos, his eyes holding a hint of resentment.

He shook his head and placed a hand over his heart and said with a tone of false pain, "She doesn't even have a picture of her and me together! I'm devastated." I humored him with a laugh as I scanned the rest of the room, memorizing every bit of it for our return tonight.

"Hey guys we don't know when the bitch is gonna be back so we better work fast," Seth pointed out, leaning casually against the white door frame.

I got up off her bed and found my way down to the basement to mess with the electric system. And just for a little bit of entertainment, Seth decided to run over to the bathroom and take a massive dump to give me a reason to return as a plumber before the real fun begins.

Before we left, Punk changed the locks around so that we had easy access to the condo tonight, regardless of whether or not little defenseless AJ thinks that the door is locked.

"How'd it go?" James asked, briefly glancing up from his Sports Illustrated magazine.

"It's perfect! We've got the whole house rigged for our benefit and Teller's is gonna head back over there in a couple hours just to fuck with her," Punk exclaimed, reaching into the fridge for an ice cold water bottle. "Also, she doesn't live alone. A girl and guy were there earlier today, so we have a couple toys to use on the side."

"The guy actually lives across the street, but the girl does in fact live with AJ. I think we should take her too for a little extra fun for the rest of us," Seth added, showing off his stalker skills once again.

"I agree with Seth. Do you think you two can keep this chick out of the house until we give you a call confirming AJ Lee's capture?" I asked James and Jimmy.

"Her name is Kaitlyn," Seth interjected.

James smirked, "Sounds hot. Besides, Teller, you know we're the best at stalking, distracting, and capturing!"

I assumed that AJ had to be back home by now, so I drove over to this plumbing place downtown that we had a special connection with. Clearly, we've pulled this particular maneuver before.

Before entering the building, I changed into the navy blue jumpsuit and pulled the hat down low over my forehead. I nodded curtly at the young guy working at the front of the counter.

"Tell... Teller, what are you doing here?" he asked, just barely above a whisper.

I stared at him intently, savoring the fear in his eyes. "Relax kid there's nothing to worry about. I'm actually doing the job this time. No bloodshed involved."

He knew all too well that in most cases I used this cover up to sneak inside homes and steal the beautiful women inside. Technically, I wasn't really lying. AJ would stay safe and sound while I fix her toilet. I wouldn't be using a disguise to take her away tonight.

Ten minutes after my arrival, the phone rang shrilly through the tiny building. "I've got this one," I said reaching excitedly for the phone, clearing my throat to sound professional. "Hello, J T Plumbing. What can I plumb for ya?"

"Um, yeah, my toilet won't flush and, well, someone...you know...emptied a little too much and it won't budge. Do you think you can come out here and fix it?" she asked timidly.

I smiled as the tone of disgust in her voice reached my ears. "Sure, thing darling, that's our job. Can ya give me an address please?"

She told me the address and even gave me the code to get past the gate. I told her I'd be there momentarily and hung up the phone. I loaded a few things into the van and headed back over to the campus.

I arrived at her place a few minutes later and had to silence a laugh as I rang the doorbell and waited to see her filthy little face. The hardest part of this whole thing would be pretending to be nice to her, but it would all be worth it in the end.

I formed a perfectly fake, business-like smile on my face once she opened the door. Her eyes widened momentarily and she hesitated to speak after first seeing me. I knew she didn't recognize me... probably assumed I'd be fat and creepy...even though I didn't think all men of this profession were like that.

But then again, I'm not really a plumber.

In the next Chapter: The Gang Kidnaps AJ Lee

#cm punk #cm punk fanfiction #cm punk x reader #aj lee #jax teller #seth rollins #kofi kingston #tara knowles #wwe #sons of anarchy #fanfiction

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lovelyfanatical · 1 year

Text

I Get a Sugar Rush Whenever I'm With You - Chapter 7.1

Happy Friday fellow Drukkari stans, or whatever day it is for you! Took a little longer, but I'm back with the first installment of the next chapter! If you need to catch up, you can find all other chapters on my table of contents here, or you can find me on AO3 (though you'll need an account to view). Last time, Sprite won Star Baker, Ajak was eliminated, and Makkari invited Druig over. Whatever will happen next? Find out now, in the next mini-chapter of Drukkari in the Great British Bake Off!

In the middle of the week, Druig found himself standing at Makkari’s door, arms full of groceries, wondering once again if this was a date or just a secret hang-out between friends. Hunter seemed to think it was the former, but then again, Hunter had said he’d marry Bobbi a third time if she’d have him, so perhaps he wasn’t the best judge of these things. Druig was leaning toward the latter just when Makkari opened the door, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him, and he found himself hoping that Hunter was right for once. She took a bag from him as she ushered him inside.

Druig wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting. While it was comparable in size to his own, Makkari’s flat was undeniably much homier than his. It wasn’t overflowing, but it was certainly filled with stuff, unlike his own sparse sitting room. That said, it was still tidy, and although he couldn’t decipher its organization himself, he felt there was likely a method to the madness. Instead of cleaning products, it smelled of old books and, as he neared the kitchen, something sweet he couldn’t quite place. As he put the remaining bags on the counter, it hit him.

Did you actually bake a lemon cake? he asked.

I’ve sort of been wanting one since last week, she answered, a playful smile tugging at her lips. Luckily, we don’t need the oven for this recipe.

Shall we get started, then?

Makkari’s eyes widened as he echoed her words from before, and her grin grew even wider.

Since they’d decided to buy cones rather than make them, they made quick work of the ice cream. Makkari guided him through it, observing him steadily as he followed her instructions. Although he was trying to concentrate, Druig thought he caught her looking directly at him rather than what he was doing more than once throughout the process. She’d looked away quickly, but not quick enough for him to not notice.

It wasn’t long before the mixture was in the ice cream maker, then all they had to do was wait. Makkari made tea to go with the lemon cake, which Druig had nearly started eating directly out of the pan, it smelled so good. Makkari had shooed him away while she cut it into slices before bringing him a plate. As they ate their cake, they chatted about work and tea preferences and practice bakes.

I mean, I baked a lot before, but practicing for the competition is practically a part-time job, Makkari said.

It would be, if they paid us, he replied with a mock-pensive expression.

Well, obviously! she retorted with a snort, which made him chuckle. But, if I’m being honest, I didn’t think I’d still be here in week seven.

Druig softened a bit as he responded, You’re not still having doubts about belonging here, are you?

Not nearly as much as before, thanks to you, she said, her expression softening as well. But I still haven’t won Star Baker, and I wasn’t so sure about my performance last week.

I’m sure you’ll win one of these times. And I wasn’t sure about last week either, but neither was anyone else. Well, except Sprite, Druig conceded.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure nothing scares her.

Agreed. I also think she’s actually twelve, maybe thirteen at most. Must’ve made a fake ID to get in.

You said it, not me, Makkari said, shaking her head but still smiling.

Well, I had no doubts that you’d still be in the competition, Druig continued. I’m slightly surprised I’m still here, though.

Hey, you’re not having doubts again, are you? Makkari asked, her face growing a bit more serious.

Only a little. Last week was tough, he admitted. I mean, Ajak’s been baking for years, and she got eliminated.

It is going to be weird without her there, she said sadly. I felt like she was always looking out for us.

Even when she was disapproving of your investigations? he asked.

Even then, she replied wistfully, but her expression grew mischievous again as she added, Although, she was wrong about not interfering.

Why do you say that? he said, though Druig had a feeling he already knew the answer.

I talked to Dane. He has decided to ask Sersi out! Makkari could barely contain her smile, and it proved to be infectious.

Wow, another successful case, then, he said, which made her giggle. I’m sure Sersi will be over the moon on Saturday.

I can’t wait to see her face! Makkari’s expression softened again as she continued, Thanks, by the way.

For what?

For always supporting my shenanigans.

Well, you do most of the heavy lifting.

True, but I couldn’t do it without your help. You make an excellent partner-in-crime.

The conversation was lighthearted, but Druig could feel the weight of her last statement, his heart swelling a bit. Between that and the way she was looking at him now, he was surprised he could form any coherent thoughts. He managed to sign, Thank you, Detective Makkari. It’s an honor to be your partner-in-crime.

Better than being Star Baker?

Undoubtedly.

She giggled at that, making him smile. As she looked up at him through her eyelashes, Druig found himself transfixed. It was as if nothing else in the world existed outside the two of them. All other thoughts seemed to drop away as he looked at the beautiful woman in front of him, and she looked back. They had begun leaning toward each other from across the small kitchen table as they talked, and Druig thought for a moment Makkari might be leaning even closer.

The ice cream maker dinged, and just as quickly as it had started, the moment had passed. Druig got up, and Makkari quickly followed suit. They sampled their chili mango ice cream, and Druig actually felt his knees buckle under him. As his senses came back to him, he noticed Makkari was laughing at his reaction. So, he leaned into it.

Glorious Makkari, I am defeated, he said, collapsing into a chair.

This made her laugh even harder, but she managed to sign, You, sir, are exaggerating!

Not even a little. I’d give you a handshake, but I can’t possibly get up.

She crossed over to him at that, saying, Well, I have to get my handshake.

Makkari offered him her hand, which he gladly took. And if their handshake lingered a bit longer than necessary, neither commented on it.

Alternate title for this chapter: Is This a Date: The Sequel! 😆 Hope you enjoyed the fluff!

Part 23

#lovelyfanatical shares #drukkari gbbo au #drukkari #druig x makkari #eternals fanfiction #eternals #druig: seriously is this a date?#who knows

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