#food concession trailers

[customconcessions]

Custom Kitchen Hoods & Builders in Delaware – CustomConcessions

CustomConcessions specializes in designing and building custom hoods kitchen builders in Delaware , tailored to your needs. Our expert craftsmanship ensures durability, functionality, and style for residential and commercial kitchens. Enhance your space with high-quality, custom-built solutions that elevate aesthetics and efficiency. Trust CustomConcessions for premium kitchen upgrades. 

Visit:- https://customconcessions.net/custom-commercial-kitchen-builders/ 

[nageltrailerrepair]

Rusted steel frames in food trailers can weaken their structure, but replacing them isn't always necessary. With proper Concession Trailer Repair Michigan techniques, you can restore strength and durability. Start by removing rust with a wire brush and applying a rust converter.

Use high-quality primer and rust-resistant paint to prevent future corrosion. Reinforce weakened areas with welded steel plates or braces. Regular maintenance and inspections can extend the life of your trailer. Save money and keep your food trailer running with these expert repair tips!

[nilecraftfoodtrailer]

NileCraft Food Trailer Manufacturing

Address- 974 Murfreesboro Pike, Ste 201, Nashville, TN, USA 37217

Phone- +1 615-933-5545

Email- sales@nilecraftfoodtrailer.com

Website- https://nilecraftfoodtrailer.com

At NileCraft Food Trailer Manufacturing, we don't just build food trailers; we craft culinary dreams on wheels. As a leading manufacturer and dealership, we have redefined the art of mobile restaurant, turning visions into reality. Our story began with a passion for innovation and a commitment to delivering top-tier food trailer solutions. Each of our trailers is a canvas waiting to be customized, a stage where your culinary prowess shines. Discover the world of NileCraft Food Trailer, where food meets mobility, and dreams are served on a plate!

Business Hours- Mon - Sat: 9AM - 6PM.

Payment Methods- Cash, Financing, Cashier Check.

Owner Name- Fady Nagib

Find On-

Facebook-       https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61550952813247

Google Map-  https://maps.app.goo.gl/EMQQSRGUcJbeYNr46

[ickygojo]

k.tober / hayride. g﹐satoru

wc. 1.4k

( # ) SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend gojo wanted to do something cute and fun for halloween, but of course, adding his own satoru twist to it.

( # ) CONTENT: mdni // nsfw. content warnings for cockwarming, discreet public sex, pinv, crèampie. terms used are cöck, pūssy.

it had just past your two year anniversary with your beloved boyfriend, satoru. halloween was approaching, and you two wanted to do something cute and fun together, but knowing satoru, he would find a way to put his own twist to it. the two of you had talked about carving pumpkins, a halloween movie marathon, and even a corn maze but the thing that had him most excited was the haunted hayride.

it was a trailer full of hay to sit on, pulled by a tractor, through the woods; where many scare actors lurk in the shadows ready to pop out. you weren’t so fond of the idea, but satoru was more than excited. “you know how much i love scary movies, this will feel like we are in one!” he pleaded with you, knowing how much you hated being jumpscared. your reflexes always wanted to punch and then afterwards you were angry because you’d gotten scared. that’s why toru had to stop hiding around corners to scare you; after taking a fist to the nose and having you angry with him for a whole evening, over until the morning. you hated being scared, and this haunted hayride sounded like a nightmare. “we can dress up, make it cute and fun. c’mon babyyy you’ll love it!” satoru continued to plead, cooing at you and trying his best to persuade you with cute matching costumes. you hated to say that it worked.

you were more than nervous when the evening rolled around. you had been trying to prepare yourself for this all day— all week actually, and now that it was finally here, you wanted to chicken out. “i can’t do it.” you told him, a small pout on your face, your abrupt change of heart resulting in an even poutier face from your boyfriend. “but look at your outfit, we’d look so cute! and it’ll be so much fun! there will be food, maybe even drinks.” he was trying so hard, grasping at straws, telling you there’d be food because he knew that was your weakness. of course you gave in, put the cute little cheerleading costume on, which consisted of a white turtle neck, a blue and white top, a matching skirt and thigh high socks; not to mention the little blue and silver pompoms and bows for your hair. satoru was matching, but his costume was much more casual; blue jeans and a white t, a deep blue letterman jacket with silver and white accents to match yours, and his charming sunglasses, balanced upon the bridge of his nose. “high school sweet hearts, eh? yeah?” he nudged you, looking at the two of you in the mirror, ready for your little date. “oh! one more thing. no panties.” there it was. the gojo satoru twist, because you two couldn’t just go on a cute date without him wanting to stick his cock in you. “what do you mean no panties?” you chuff at him, but comply by beginning to take them off from beneath your rather short skirt. you felt as if your ass cheeks were peeking out as well, and didn’t know if you could go all night walking around like this. “it’s okay, you’ll be on my lap for most of the ride.” he gave a cheeky little wink before grabbing his things and ushering you out to the car.

the cold air hit your exposed skin as soon as you stepped out of the car and into the field, the wind chill giving you goosebumps. you could feel your skirt lifting, and tried your best to keep your ass covered, as much as you could in the miniskirt he had picked for you. the place was set up in a large, half empty corn field, which sat right on the edge of the forest. there were string lights throughout the woods to indicate the hayrides path, weaving through the woods along the edge of the cornfield before disappearing into the field itself, only to come back out towards the parking lot and concessions. eerie music was playing over speakers dotted throughout the venue, scare actors could be seen hanging around, interacting with customers in character, and most of all, popping out to scare the new comers. “c’mon, it’s about to start.” satoru grinned, pulling you towards the trailer. a handful of people began to pile onto the hayride, followed by satoru and then you, who placed yourself right on satoru’s lap, as he said. you couldn’t just sit down on the hay bales butt-ass naked. he knew what he was doing. you could already feel his bulge beneath you, the ride bouncing you around softly as the tractor tires rolled over hills of dirt.

the first of the scare actors began to pop out from behind the trees, some screaming and laughing, most with masks or face paint. while everyone’s attention was focused elsewhere, satoru began to fiddle with the button on his pants, hands working his cock free from tight denim only to be plunged into the tightness that was your pussy. you let out a gasp, masked by the fact that everyone else was gasping, squealing and screaming, nobody could tell the difference. satoru was surprised at how wet you were already, and how easily he was able to slide inside of you. you must’ve been thinking hard about what he was up to, well, you got your answer. “stay still.” that was an order, but it would be easier said than done, when the ride was bouncing you back and forth, and you kept getting jumpscared by the actors in the corn field. one of them ran out with a chainsaw in hand, revving it up extremely close to the hayride, causing you to jump and move on satoru’s lap; earning a small hiss from him. you could feel his cock pull out of you as soon as you jumped, his hands quickly gripping your hips and pulling you back down, hoping to god nobody saw you. “baby, stay still, they won’t hurt you.” this time it wasn’t an order, his voice was softer, and his hands began to rub soft circles into your hips, finding the hem’s between your sweater and skirt just to touch your skin. your attention was focused on your surroundings, while satoru’s was focused on your insides. how hot and squishy they were, how every time you yelped or got scared, your pussy would clench around him. he wanted to grope you, violate you right here in front of all these people, but he knew better.

he couldn’t help himself, knowing you were to preoccupied with everything going on around you, that he had to bring your attention back to him. he began to rock your hips back and forth, his own hips flexing in an upward motion to meet the rhythm he had going. you noticed immediately, glancing around to see if anyone else saw, before squeezing your thighs together and bouncing on it just a little bit, but not enough to make the ride shake, more than it already was. “c’mon baby, yeah.” he hummed against the skin of your neck, rutting even harder into your cunt. did he plan on finishing? everyone was watching the scare actor with the chainsaw, not paying a bit of attention to the couple on the back of the hayride, literally fucking. you could feel how tight your pussy was getting, the closer to climax you got. obviously satoru could feel it too, lips suckling on your neck, little whimpering noises as he did. you couldn’t focus on anything but him, and the feeling of him filling you up. “toru!” you gasped, feeling his warm load squishing between where your ass met his crotch. “sorry baby.” he giggles, giving your neck a few kisses. by then, you two had gained a bit of attention, a few sideways glances and double takes as gojo kissed on your neck. thankfully, by now, the two of you had stopped moving, but you had to get up and he had to resituate himself. he held you down for a moment, while the hayride stopped, waiting for everyone to get off of the ride before finally letting you stand, tucking himself away in his jeans.

you felt his hands grab your hips, hearing a small “boo” from behind you. “did you have fun?” he purred, hand moving from your hip to your ass, giving it a light pinch, his cum dripping down your leg as you walked towards the center of the venue. “mmm yes i did, did you?” you hummed back delightfully, trying to squeeze your thighs together to keep everything inside. “of course i did baby.” he beamed back, almost glowing before adding on, “let’s get you some food and some rest, yeah?” god if you didn’t have the cheekiest boyfriend in the world.

[scoops-aboy86]

do you think you'd ever write like a truly Fat Steve?

(This ask is from June 2024, and I have more that I need to get to. Sorry! I’m working on it, just… no timeline. But I am aware and intend to get to them all at some point, depending on how inspiration strikes. Anyway:)

Tentatively yes. Because! Define “truly fat”? I usually start with the beginning of gaining and/or getting kinky with it because I am obsessed with ✨backstory✨. It’s not a hard and fast rule though. 

Here’s a secret about me: I am allergic to numbers, and therefore generally won’t be very specific about exact weight or measurements. Bonus secret, in some ways (especially with visuals) my imagination can be very… either literally exact or just vibes, I guess. It requires references, which is honestly just rude. Some have called me a perfectionist; they are correct. So a lot of the time I leave some details kind of vague because I am afraid of something Not Making Sense just because I have a poor sense of proportions. 

Okay, all that said, here’s almost 4k words of quite fat Steve. 

~

Steve who knows that Eddie was an almost, a one that got away. Steve who overeats because he’s ambivalent about “keeping in shape for the ladies” these days and he likes food, takes to snacking after any time he jerks off the way some people have an after sex cigarette. Steve who ends up living in Chicago because that’s where Robin goes for school, and eventually she talks him into trying community college. 

He’s doing alright, although definitely overweight at this point and perpetually on the verge of needing to buy new polos again (half because of his ever growing belly, half because of stains). Still has the BMW—although lately the front seat is getting a little constricting, and don’t even get him started about how tight the seat belt already is. Works two jobs, one in telemarketing slinging shit he doesn’t care about and one at the concession stand at a movie theater, the latter part time with Robin. (He could’ve done telemarketing full time, but she needed a part time job and they can’t work customer service jobs not together, it feels weird. Also, she’s gotten really good at throwing popcorn into his mouth, all the lessons he’s given her on how to aim and account for distance and weight and, like, wind or whatever are finally paying off. 

Unfortunately, his car has to go to the shop for a bit and he has to brave public transportation to get to school and the theater job. Not such a big deal—sure, he has to turn sideways to get down the aisle in busses, but as a tradeoff his belly doesn’t have to fight the steering wheel for space. 

Then one day, after sighing in relief as he gets to the bus stop and sits on the bench to rest while he waits, someone asks, “Mind if I sit here?” And he looks up, and it’s Eddie Munson. 

~

Eddie who never got his high school diploma and left Hawkins as soon as he’d healed up enough to drive, in the hopes of getting folks to stop vandalizing his uncle’s new trailer. Eddie who’s still in a band, albeit a new one since the Corroded Coffin guys couldn’t go with him, and just got back from their first headliner tour around the Midwest—successful enough to be on the radio and have a decent following but not have to deal with paparazzi, which he considers the sweet spot. Eddie who recognizes Steve immediately and can’t not talk to him; he hasn’t stopped thinking about the guy since the day he left, no amount of weight is going to change that. 

So he’s actually kind of breathless when he says hello, half from the shock and half because he’d just sprinted a block and a half with smoker’s lungs. When Steve looks up at him Eddie wiggles his fingers, reminiscent of the little wave Steve had given him in Reefer Rick’s boatshed years ago, and adds, “Hi Stevie.”

Unfortunately, Steve is still equally out of breath from walking half a block at a sedate pace. He can’t answer right away, because he is suddenly aware that his body weight has… doubled? More than doubled? He doesn’t even own a scale, so he doesn’t know. But probably at least doubled since Eddie saw him last. He watches basketball on TV instead of playing it these days, because all he does with his free time is laze around and eat. The other day, he’d had to plop his belly down on the counter to take pressure off his lower back while making his lunch (several boxes of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese).

In this moment, he has no idea how Eddie recognized him. He feels huge. He feels fat. And that… whatever it was that always nudged him to eat after getting off (and sometimes, increasingly, before, because he feels hungry so much more often now), it sparks deep in his core. 

And it’s Eddie. It’s Eddie. 

Steve licks his lips, reaches absently into a pocket, and starts unwrapping a chocolate chip granola bar. “H-hi Eddie,” he stutters, still surprised and eyes wide and, god, he’s so grateful that his big belly and wide thighs thoroughly hide the effect this is having on him. 

Eddie says something in reply, but Steve is too distracted to catch it. Too busy chewing, swallowing, finishing the granola bar in three big bites and pulling another from the same pocket (he always brings snacks for the bus) to gobble down the same way. He wants to rock where he sits, get some friction on his stiffening dick—but he’s got some self control, even if it requires a third granola bar to maintain itself. 

“Um…” Steve swallows his last bite and squeezes his legs together hard, aware that Eddie looks nervously expectant, like he just asked a question. “Sorry, say that again?”

A ringed hand drifts up, twining into some of Eddie’s curly hair and drawing it across his mouth—nervous habit, one that Steve remembers so well. “Oh, uh. Just… Am I bothering you? I can leave, but. If you don’t want to take the bus I could give you a ride? I'm only parked a few blocks away, I could bring it around and pick you up.”

All Steve can think to say is, stupidly, “I haven’t seen you in years!”

He doesn’t mean it as a no—he’s not mad or anything, just reeling and embarrassed and… hungry—but can tell immediately that’s how Eddie takes it. Those rich brown eyes dim and slant away from his gaze. “Yeah… Sorry, man, I’ll get—”

“Wait,” Steve interrupts, his heart hammering at the thought of losing him again so immediately. “I’m just surprised is all, don’t… don’t go.”

So Eddie tentatively offers that ride again, and Steve accepts while his stomach does all kinds of sluggish summersaults, and since that gets him to the community college campus over an hour early they have time to duck into a nearby cafe and reconnect a bit over coffee. 

Well. Eddie has coffee. Steve has a milkshake, a sandwich, and a series of pastries, some of which Eddie gets for him when he notices Steve glancing wistfully back towards the glass case by the register. They talk about what they’ve each been up to, what plans they have, Steve catching Eddie up on all their mutual friends he’d fallen out of touch with, but they don’t talk about feelings. All too soon it’s time for Steve to start making his way to class, so they make plans to meet up later. 

~

Steve learns that Eddie is doing very well for himself, has a three bedroom apartment with no roommates, in a building with an elevator and everything. A new truck, sleek and black, with a cover on the back so he can still haul his amps around as needed and (to Steve’s relief) wide, comfortable seats. A perpetually fully stocked fridge—because, he sheepishly explains, his manager hired a service for him when he’s in the city after a few incidents of getting so intensely focused on his music or other projects that he’d forgotten to take care of himself. Central air conditioning, which means that as soon as summer starts both Steve and Robin spend as much time there as possible instead of sweating to death at their place. 

And Steve eats so much, because it’s there and Eddie keeps offering. He eats constantly. He eats until his belly is sore and heaving, and his jaw aches, and he can barely pull his shirt down far enough or his pants up high enough to keep himself fully covered. 

Robin hardly bats an eye, because she knows him like the back of her hand and nothing he does can ever surprise her, but Eddie never comments on his habits either and that’s… Steve doesn’t know what to make of that. Breaks out in snacks whenever he thinks about that, aware that it could be bad or it could be fine, but knowing that he’s not going to stop either way. He’s just so hungry all the time now, and his willpower isn’t strong enough to try for some bullshit illusion that he doesn’t stuff himself until he physically can’t swallow any more on a regular basis. There’s no chance of hiding what he is. 

Fat. 

And still, Eddie never comments on it. Part of Steve wonders what he would have to do to break that streak. Another part of him fantasizes about it, working food into his ‘personal time’ routine on an increasingly regular basis. Gasps “What have I done to myself” and “Couldn’t help it, so good, got so big” while he uses one hand to cram more into himself and the other to hold his belly and side rolls, jiggle them, rub and press his own soft mass down against his leaking cock until he comes without even directly touching himself… Something he only does at Eddie’s when he’s sure Eddie is out and not coming home for hours, because Steve knows when to keep his clothes on.

(They still never have talked about feelings. Steve is convinced that Eddie doesn’t feel the same way, or he would’ve said something by now—overlooking the fact that he is pining for Eddie and hasn’t said anything yet either.)

He registers for classes again in the fall. Just one more semester until he has enough credits for some very basic degree, which is a relief because getting around from class to class is really starting to wear on him, huffing and puffing enough that Robin has graciously told him he doesn’t have to keep up their customer service servitude together anymore. The weather starts to cool down, so she isn’t at Eddie’s quite so often—not out of borderline-heatstroke necessity, anyway; they still see each other pretty much every day. But Steve is almost always there, taking up space on the couch that he would’ve sunk a permanent divot into if it weren’t such high quality furniture. Taking up Eddie’s extra phone line for his now full-time telemarketing gig because “It’s extra, Steve, this is exactly the kind of shit it’s for.” He’s practically moved in by accident, though again Eddie has never commented on the fact. One of the guest rooms is pretty well stocked with Steve’s clothes, the bed is sturdy and comfortable, paid for with the money he made from finally selling his BMW since he no longer fit behind the wheel anyway. And Eddie must have one hell of a laundry service too because somehow his clothes never seem to hold stains for long anymore. 

(Eddie is, in fact, replacing Steve’s clothes. He doesn’t want the guy to feel embarrassed, it’s natural at that size to overlook just how many spills and oopsies are building up on the fabric, or how waistlines and shirt bottoms are failing to contain his ever-growing bulk. Steve just looks so happy when he’s eating, so content when he’s full. It’s all Eddie can do some days not to touch, so really he’s just trying to save himself from the temptation around sinking into that warm comfort and lose the best friend he’s ever had.)

~

Everything’s great. And then, one day when Steve knows Eddie will be at the recording studio until late, he gives into a greedy impulse and goes all out. He orders round after round of takeout, grazing in Eddie’s kitchen in between deliveries but tries to stick to binging on stuff he’s paid for instead of completely freeloading. (There’s a sting of old humiliation in that, an echo of his father calling him an entitled, spoiled brat, but that just has him ordering more and more to fill up all the space in him so the echoes have nowhere to go.) Knock after knock at the door and he’s beyond comfortably full, rocking to heave himself and his belly that spills over his thighs to standing, coming back with boxes and bags that he’s careful to set within easy reach, sometimes on the shelf of his distended gut. His shirt is so stretched his cavernous belly button is either obvious through the straining fabric or on full display when it rides up, and he’s so lost to everything that the only reason he bothers to keep pulling it down again is to revel in how tight it is. He’s so full. 

Occasionally he dozes off and snorts himself awake at the next knock with food still left in the bags, in his hands, in his mouth—and answers the door eating, who cares what the delivery guy thinks, he can’t fall behind, he’s better than that. He doesn’t think much of it beyond a dazed, half-baked fantasy that it’s Eddie coming to feed him, touch him, make him feel nothing short of ready to pop—but it doesn’t make sense, does it. Why would Eddie knock on the door to his own home? Eddie won’t be back until late, anyway. 

Steve is about ready to drift again and is laboriously shoveling lo mein into his mouth to try and beat that buzzer. His entire body feels so flushed, stretched, singing with sensory overload that he barely notices (what he later learns is) the sound of a guitar case being fumbled, caught, and set hastily on the floor for its own safety. “Almost there,” he’s panting to himself in between bites, “almost, so fuh—urrrrp. So fucking close… Eds, I need more…”

And then Eddie whispers, “Jesus H. Christ.”

~

Everything’s hard for Eddie these days. 

… No, literally. 

The apartment is too big for just him; he’d bought it with the intention of moving his uncle out to live with him, but ought to have listened earlier to how adamant Wayne was (and still is) about staying in Indiana. So he’d welcomed Steve eagerly back into his life, and by extension Robin, into his home, and is ecstatic at how closely the other man seems to have taken the invitation to heart. And Robin is great! It’s been wonderful reconnecting to both of them, fellow survivors of a fucked up alternate dimension. 

Whenever she’s not there as a buffer, though, Eddie finds that he can’t take his eyes off of Steve. The content look in his half-lidded eyes while he eats and drinks and, sometimes, licks at his own fingers so eagerly that Eddie has to drape the blanket on the back of the couch over his lap fast. The way he seems to go boneless when he’s finally sated, drifting off on some internal cloud while his hands mindlessly rove over the bulge of his swollen belly while Eddie stares, unnoticed, and thinks about Steve’s bulge in every sense of the word so much until it all reverse-kaleidoscopes into a single thing in his head. 

Because sometimes Steve forgets himself and lets out these little moans while he’s eating, or his shirt rides up and puts an entire swath of temptingly mole-dotted, stretch-marked skin, and it’s, it’s Steve. It’s Steve. Eddie is helpless but to look while Steve goes for hours on end, and pine in silence, and perish in his bed or occasionally in a bathroom with yet another little death devoted to the guy, this god amongst men, a valiant warrior turned generous Dionysus. 

His band keeps teasing him for all the overdramatic metal ballads he’s been churning out lately, but it’s good-natured. They have plenty of new material for a good mix of stuff on the next album. 

All summer is exquisite torture, with Steve often too comfortable (full) to want to head home and Eddie all too eager to offer his guest room. Even if it doesn’t mean anything, at least he’s not alone in an empty home—which, yeah, he can spot the irony, oh how the tables have turned and so on and so forth. 

Until the night Eddie comes home and nearly drops his beloved Sweetheart, the very guitar that he’d played in the depths of an actual hell. 

It’s no defense against the sight of Steve resplendent on the couch, belly standing solid and round from his frame and heaving between gulps of food and air. He looks like he could’ve been gorging himself all day, judging by all the detritus around the couch—so much that Eddie’s not sure how Steve could’ve possibly expected to get it all cleaned up before he got caught, but. Maybe (and Eddie’s throat goes dry at the thought) he’d meant to, but just couldn’t bring himself to stop. It sounds like that might be the case, from the desperate gurgling of his gut and strained burps and the way he’s moaning to himself about close and almost, in a tone Eddie has heard in bedrooms and back alleys way more than any dinner table. 

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie whispers, because he wants to get his hand on Steve’s bulging gut, hold and jiggle and caress until both of them come. He wants it, he wants—

But Steve has noticed him now. Noticed and jolted, as though trying to get up, except all the motion does is spill the very little amount of noodles still left in the takeout container balanced on his belly. With a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine, Steve tosses the styrofoam trough to flop on the floor and scoops the food off his shirt, ducking his head down as far as his double chin allows to shove it straight into his mouth. Still watching Eddie, making that sound again, and making a more coordinated effort to stand up. 

Except he can’t. Falls back with a groan and a ripple of impact that shows across his entire body, belly smacking against his legs that can’t spread far enough to really be apart anymore, and Eddie is by his side without registering crossing the room. 

“Steve! Are you okay? Can I do anything?”

“Shir’s tight,” Steve practically slurs, though there’s no evidence of any alcohol nearby. Several empty liters of soda, sure, but no booze. “Help…”

Eddie is already jamming his fingers under the hem of said shirt, wriggling and easing it up until he frees the top of Steve’s belly. He goes to pull it over Steve’s pecs and accidentally finds out those are sensitive, judging by the gasp Steve lets out. But there’s no help for it, Eddie is committed now, his jeans feeling like they’re strangling his dick as his hands drag over Steve’s swollen nipples and forest of chest hair that feels even thicker than it looked in Spring of ‘86. 

So soft, radiating warmth and scents of cologne and hairspray and sweat and Steve. Heavy arms jiggling as he lifts them for Eddie to peel the shirt the rest of the way off, and then slumping again as though the effort had cost him dearly. Clutching what he can reach of his belly and moaning. 

“Eddie, I, fuck, ‘mso, close—shit.” Steve looks at him with wild eyes, and that’s when Eddie realizes—“Can’t reach, god, Eddie, please, I n-need…”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, his heart both singing and breaking a little at the desperation in his voice. “You want me to? Can I?”

Fervent nodding, and Steve does his panting best to lift his belly, spread his legs where they’re tight in the sweatpants Eddie thinks he was wearing when he’d left for the studio that morning, wearing most mornings lately. They’d looked tight even then, and now even when he finds the waistband it’s missing the ends of the drawstring poking out it’s so stretched. They also leave nothing about Steve’s predicament to the imagination, an impressive wet spot in the fabric across his erection, going commando underneath. 

It’s easier to rip them at both sides than pull them off over his ass, Eddie kneeling on the floor before him now and Steve groaning above that it hurts so good, that he just needs to come and it’ll feel so good. He’s begging, and part of Eddie would wonder if Steve even really registers who’s with him if it weren’t for the moans that sound like Eddie, Eds, baby. And with the rip his belly drops, slaps his bare thighs, wobbles—but Eddie grabs it with both hands and heaves it back up as gently as he has the patience for (not very). Steve cries out, maybe from pain at the jarring motion or maybe from ecstasy as Eddie dives in and wraps his lips around the tip of his weeping dick, sucks him down as far as he can (just the first few inches) with the bulge of Steve’s legs and the fat pad hiding beneath his belly and said belly bearing down on Eddie’s forehead despite his best efforts, Steve spasming in an attempt to roll his hips but he’s pinned himself with hours of overindulgence—

Eddie is determined to show him every blessed and sinful trick he’s learned from being an avid cocksucker all his adult life. This might be his only chance to prove he can be the best Steve’s ever had, he has to. 

And just maybe, if the breathless wail Steve lets out as he comes is any indication, he succeeds. 

~

Steve graduates from community college, but doesn’t attend the ceremony. 

Why would he? The last few months have been a hazy blur of indulgence, of Eddie keeping the snacks dutifully coming while he studied or took telemarketing calls. His doting boyfriend has ferried him from the apartment to classes and back, swinging by as many drive-thrus as needed in transit either way to keep Steve appropriately stuffed and undistracted by hunger, letting Steve lean on him for what felt like longer and longer walks between the parking lot and his classrooms. During finals, at a reinforced bench and table Robin had helped him specifically request as a necessary accommodation, all Steve had needed to do was trace certain stretch marks and daydream about specific treats to recall the information he wanted. 

He’s a college graduate. Eddie’s career is enough to support them both, and Robin is happy to come stay with Steve whenever the band is off touring. The farthest he needs to go anymore is from the gigantic bed he and Eddie now share to the couch—though sometimes, if he’s feeling frisky, he’ll go all the way to the kitchen and plop himself down directly in front of the fridge. It’s getting harder to maneuver but so worth it, filling his belly until he aches from how much it weighs him down so that Eddie can come home and find him beached and already red-faced from how worked up he feels. 

They celebrate his degree coming in the mail with Steve on his rounded hands and knees, sheet cake in front of him and Eddie behind, railing him face-first into the buttercream, the days of running and screaming and pain and blood so far in the past that Steve can barely remember, barely even think about anything that isn’t the glorious, decadent present. 

They’re going to have a party later, with everyone they still keep in touch with from Hawkins coming over and even more cake to indulge in. He has Eddie, babbling love and adoration while working his way towards coming so hard inside Steve that both their toes curl. Robin is—well she’s not here for this part, but she’s his ride or die platonic other half, unshakable for life. Everything, including every messy mouthful of cake and cream and sticky filling, is absolutely perfect. 

Steve has never been happier or felt more complete in his entire life, and he can’t wait to keep indulging in more of the same. 

Permanent tag list (ask to be added or removed): @hotluncheddie @hiei-harringtonmunson @sofadofax @victorclays @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

@ape31

[sabraeal]

Greatest Little Show on Earth

[Read on AO3]

It’s quiet for the back lot, even for this time of night. Just the hum of the floodlight and the chirp of crickets out in the grass, hopping to safety as they wade the last few feet up to the blacktop. Shirayuki squints across it, searching trailer stoops and picnic tables, but there’s not a hint of clowns laughing too loud, or jugglers bobbling illicit alcohol containers out of view. Not a single acrobat out there either, finding new ways to endanger themselves on everyday equipment. For once, she has to admit, she’s disappointed.

“Well, would you look at that?” Obi huffs, pausing at the edge of the pavement. With a shift and a shimmy, he hikes Ryuu’s floppy limbs over his shoulders, adjusting them like a scarf.  “Little bit of food poisoning and everyone’s got the wind taken out of their sails.”

“Food poisoning can be very serious.” There’s vials in the lab’s freezer labeled things like E. coli 2012 Munich McDonalds and S. enterica 2008 Atlanta Taco Bell; she’d laughed the first time she’d seen them, until Garrack reminded her that they didn’t store strains without a body count. “And besides, it was only Concessions that went out to sushi last night. That shouldn’t be keeping everyone else from, er…”

Having too good a time insinuates that she’s never stayed up past her bedtime, being too loud too late at night while her friends stealthily passed around beer liberated from someone’s garage fridge. Which she hadn’t; high school Shirayuki had been early to bed, early to rise— up until college, where she discovered just what havoc a chemistry final could wreak on a healthy sleep schedule. But Obi doesn’t need to know that. Not when she still hasn’t figured out just when he gets his shut eye around here.

“They’re a bunch of teenagers. They’re idiots.” He chuckles to himself, reaching up to give Ryuu’s shaggy mop a good ruffle. “Present company excluded. Can’t get them to believe that if they kiss every clown playing spin the bottle, we’ll have to send them home with mono, but tell them that they need to wash their hands real good or they’ll get the runs, and suddenly they think they can get it through their eyeballs”

It’s impossible to smother her giggle, but she at least keeps the volume low enough that it doesn’t echo across the whole lot. “That sounds like experience.”

“It is,” he promises, the shadows clinging onto a corner of his smirk. “A couple summers of this and you’ll know all you need to know about the adolescent psyche. Which mostly boils down to: a kid by themselves is a genius, but a group of them has less sense than a clown car.”

Two years ago, the Shirayuki that had stepped fresh off the bus from Tanbarun with nothing but the lab’s address in her pocket would have demured, would have said something like, I don’t know if that’s very fair, or that’s because they’re just learning how to take care of themselves.

The Shirayuki that’s spent those same two years in Garrack Gazelt’s lab says, “I think that’s just people.”

“Makes sense then, doesn’t it?” It’s funny how he can slant a smile at her, and suddenly it’s a secret, shared between the two of them. “Since they’re just people too.”

“Yeah.” A little more wild, in her experience, and stubborn for sure, but well— Yuzuri’s a bit wild too, hanging from silks and rings, spiraling from dizzying heights with only confidence and skill as her net. And Shidan’s just as stubborn, keeping the whole tour on schedule even through floods and fatigue and teenage angst. “I guess that’s true.”

Obi’s boots scuff up to a stoop, and he reaches up to ruffle once again, with a little more purpose this time. “Okay, bucko, this is the last stop. Time for all good geniuses to get to bed.”

Ryuu blinks up blearily, cheek still pressed into Obi’s shoulder. He might be fifteen, just a hair shy of a growth spurt that will make him look like an adult, but right now he reminds her of nothing more than a toddler, roused by the transfer from car to crib.

“Obi?” he creaks. “Where…?”

“Your trailer. You sacked out while we were wrapping up the till, champ. Hey, Kirito.” Obi slams hard on the door. “Can you come help a guy out, here?”

The aluminum wibbles open, and a grumpy thatch of blond glares out. “Bro, what’s your—? Oh, damn, you find him under a counter or something?”

“He sat down while we were closing out the register,” Shirayuki explains, swallowing down a giggle as Ryuu flops between Obi and Kirito, boneless. “I guess it’s been a long day.”

Ryuu’s not a big kid, but there’s a lot more of him now than when they arrived. Kirito stumbles, trying to make sense out of the mess of limbs. “I’ll say. You sure he’s okay?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” She reaches out, smoothing a curl off his forehead. “He’d fall asleep under his desk at the lab too. We put a little curtain up in his cube for privacy.”

Kirito huffs, slinging one of Ryuu’s arms around his neck. “Hard to believe this guy does real work.”

“I’m the youngest college graduate of my university,” Ryuu slurs out, helpful. “Shirayuki. Thank you.”

A laugh bubbles up behind her smile. “Oh, it’s no problem, Ryuu. It was really Obi who got you all the way back. You know I’m happy to—“

“No, not that.” He’s still half asleep, but his gaze fixes on her through the net of his eyelashes, as intense as when he’s awake. “For coming here with me. I’m having a lot of fun.”

There’s a prickle at the corners of her eyes, but it would embarrass him if she teared up now. The last things teenagers like is a sappy adult. “It’s my pleasure, Ryuu. You deserve it.”

He nods, all formal and stiff, the way he had the first time she’d spoken to him, asking if he could show her how to use the flow cytometer. With a lift of his chin, he turns to Kirito and announces, “I would like to be unconscious now.”

The kid sighs, patting him on the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. You and me both.”

The door slams behind them, rattling in it frame, and then it’s just her and Obi underneath the floodlights, shadows so long they merge. She squints across the pavement, just barely able to pick out the big top at the horizon, nearly lost in the trees.

“Well,” she says, her voice suddenly too loud in the silence. “Even with all the food poisoning and last minute shifts, it turned out to be a pretty nice night.”

Obi hums, hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans. Black jeans, which she’s never seen before, too nice to be worn while fixing the generator or unclogging the shower’s piping. The shirt’s new to her too, a nice red crew neck with three buttons down the front, two of them undone and the sleeves rolled up. No holes, either, which is a first for his wardrobe, and she nearly says something, nearly says, do you only dress up for front house or is tonight special? But—

But he just slants a look down at her— another secret, just between them— and says, “You know, it doesn’t have to end.”

  Even the big top’s dark this late at night , all hunkered down like some mythical beast in its hundred year slumber. But when Obi holds open the flap, moonlight illuminating the packed earth beyond, and she just…walks right in. Blows right past every klaxon blaring in her mind and slips into its silky maw, waiting at he ties the flap back.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.” It’s impossible to speak louder than a whisper with the cavernous darkness of the ring pressing in around her. “The kids have already cleaned up, and they’re not supposed to be here after it’s been checked.”

“It’s fine.” Obi brushes past her, waving a lazy hand. “The kids can’t come back here, sure, but we’re grown adults. We’ve signed waivers and everything.”

Her shoes pull up short at the shadow’s edge. “That’s not really filling me with confidence, Obi.”

He sighs— not impatient or frustrated, like she’s used to, a goad used to hurry her along, but…fond. Like he’d been waiting for the protest, like that had been part of the script he’d written for the evening, and she’s merely playing her role.

“C’mon, Doc,” he says, little more than a rumble in the darkness. “I’ll make sure you don’t break a toe.”

“Shouldn’t we turn on a light or some—oh.” His fingers wrap around her wrist, so long they overlap on the other side, and she just…loses her train of thought. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, your eyes adjust.” She’s heard that sort of promise before— don’t worry, I have you and it’ll be easier once you just do it— but they never account for how clumsy she is on her own too feet, how unsure, but—

But Obi keeps it, guiding her slowly through the stands and over the barrier of the ring, his hands burning where they settle on her hips. Even though she can barely see, she somehow always knows where he is in front of her, or how he wants her to move with little more than a breath and a touch. And when he finally guides her onto a stacked set of mats, he’s right. With the vents on the tent and the opened flaps, the moonlight illuminates the ring as bright as the spots.

“Here,” he says, pressing something cold into her hands. A bottle. “Refreshment.”

It only takes one sip for her to choke. “Is this alcohol?”

They don’t sell those at concessions— with a bunch of minors running it, that would be asking for trouble— and yet beneath all the fruit juice, this is definitely, definitely booze.

“It’s mine. Stashed them at the ticket counter.” His teeth flash white as he settles next to her. “Figured the kids would pack up early tonight, and then you’d finally get a look at the place when it’s not all dolled up.”

“Is that…?” She takes another sip, longer this time, and unlike the beers Garrack used to press on her at lab happy hour, it’s not bitter. “…Is that important?”

“A right of passage,” he informs her, shoulder bumping hers. Her stomach flutters in surprise. “Gotta see what it’s like when the lights aren’t on and crowd’s all gone. That’s how you know if you really love it.”

“O-oh.” It is nice like this, all quiet, like the caves she used to play in back home. “So, someone took you out too? Earlier in the tour, or…?”

“No, I-- did Yuzuri never tell you?” He laughs, surprised. “Usually she can’t keep her mouth shut.”

All at once, the roost of butterflies in her stomach wither. “Oh, are you two—? I though she— that Suzu—“

He coughs around his drink. “Yuzuri and me? No, no. God, no. I meant that I was an aerialist. Back when I first came here.”

Shirayuki blinks. “And then they made you back lot manager? That’s a strange career trajectory.”

“Nah, nah.” His hand waves in front of him, the motion strangely staccato in the half-light. “When I was in the camp.”

“In the camp?” Tonight’s the first time she’s ever seen him out of his band tee and cargo pants, and now he’s asking her to imagine spangly leotards and stirrup pants? Impossible. “You came here?”

“Yeah, when I was a kid.” His shoulders jump, a casual shrug that misses it mark. “Court order, actually.”

Yuzuri always jokes that if Obi’s breathing, he’s talking, but it’s never like— like this. About himself. Then again, Shirayuki can understand why he might keep a checkered history close to his chest. Especially at a camp for kids. “Court…order?”

“Ah, yeah yeah. Fell into a rough crowd when I was in middle school or whatever. Got caught.” He grins at that, like he’s proud of it. “Judge thought twelve was a little young for a kid to get a record, so she pulled some strings. Guess she knew the guy running this— not Shidan, he was just an instructor then— and she must have thought that if my idle hands were kept busy on the trapeze, I wouldn’t have any left for trouble.”

“Ah…” Another sip steadies her, gives her the courage to ask, “Did it work?”

“Just learned to get up to a different sort of trouble.” He winks, too charming, and she has no trouble at all imagining what shape that sort took. No wonder Yuzuri always rolled her eyes when he hung around, telling him, buzz off and root around in some other flower, bumblebutt. “But I came here every summer until the scholarship money dried up.”

There’s a story in that, she knows, but he’s already sharing so much of himself she can’t bring herself to pry. Not about that, at least. “Is that why you came back? Because you miss it?”

“Sure isn’t because I love unclogging trailer toilets, that’s for sure.” He hooks his hands behind his head, leaning back. “They did right by me. The old boss, and Shidan too. I like to come back when I can. Now that I work for my uncle— ah, not my real uncle, it’s complicated— I’ve got summers I can spend on this. Time to help some other kids learn a different type of trouble.”

“Oh?” It’s a struggle to keep her mouth straight as she asks, “Like Ryuu?”

That gets him, a nice thunderstorm of a laugh that rolls over her from head to toe. “I think he’ll be finding a different sort of trouble all right. Can’t see mine interesting him.”

“Probably not,” she agrees, a giggle bubbling around the edges of it. “So you still do it though? I mean the acrobat stuff, not the, um, trouble.”

He snorts. “I don’t get up to as much trouble as I used to, I can tell you that much, Doc. But the circus tricks…” His eyes skim over the tent. “Here, hold this.”

His bottle settles into her hands, cold against her palms, and he doesn’t so much stand up as unfurl. “Looks like the kids were playing with the lyra before they cleared out. Have it down at practice height and everything.”

With a squint, she sees it’s true, the silvery rim of the aerial hoop dangling at his shoulder. Still too tall for her, despite all of Yuzuri’s off-hours coaching, but Obi hooks his knees up and over it it with speed that speaks of muscle memory, of a trick done a hundred times until it was as natural as breathing. With the subtlest swing, he pulls himself up, perching on the ring like the hanging birds her nanna liked to keep in the sunroom, spinning every time the wind blew. Birdchimes, she’d called them, though they’d never made a sound.

“Wow,” she breathes. “You’re just as good at the kids!”

“I did try to do it professionally,” he explains, fitting his feet to the bottom of the hoop and pushing himself up. “Got into Cirque du Soliel even.”

“Really?”

“Hah, don’t get excited,” he teases, wrapping himself around the top of the ring now. “I only lasted six months.”

“Oh?” Her mouth curves as she stands, handing him his bottle. “Trouble?”

“Worse.” He takes a long drag on the drink before he hands it back, grin bright in the moonlight. “French Canadians. I like weird, but those guys are another level. Quit and never looked back.”

Her only point of reference is Mitsuhide, who maybe likes spreadsheets more than a normal person should, and is so nice he makes her look like selfish. Which might be it’s own kind of weird, but…

“So what about you, Doc?” He slides down, putting his back to one side and kicking up a leg on the other for balance. Man in the Moon, Yuzuri would call it. “Don’t often see academics running away to the circus.”

“Ah…” Her mouth takes a rueful tilt. “Yeah, I think if we leave, it’s mostly just to open bakeries.”

His eyes are obscured by the shadow of his brow, but she does see those hike up, furrowing in confusion. “Really? I’d like to see that.”

It’s nice it’s so dark; he can’t possibly see her blush. “Maybe if we ever go some place with an over that doesn’t, er…”

“Make everything charcoal briquettes?”

Shirayuki grimaces. “Yeah, that. I do make a mean cookie.”

“Ah, Doc, I don’t think you could make anything mean. But you didn’t answer the question.” He leans out of the ring, head tipped back, until his mouth is level with hers. “What kind of trouble are you looking for?”

That’s the thing about Obi, it’s all simple with him; talking, working, just being with him feels natural.  There’s no complications, no worries, just the frisson of him so close to her it feels like lightning just under her skin. It’s nothing to lean it, to cup the back of his head and press her lips to his, catching his gasp on her tongue.

At least, it feels that way, until he topples right out of the ring.

“Oh!” Her lips still tingle when she pressed her hand to them, electric. “I’m sorry, I just thought that— that there was a vibe? That— ah, I must have been—“

“No, no!” Her scrambles to his feet, all limbs. “That vibe is very correct. You should definitely keep feeling that vibe. I just…won’t fall like an idiot this time.”

He reaches out to her, his smile no longer confident but hopeful, the rough calluses of his fingers catching behind her elbows.

“I think I messed up,” she blurts out, and oh, it’s terrible to watch his face fall like that, to watch him falter. “No, I mean. Not this. It’s just…”

He blinks. “Shirayuki?”

Ah, it would have been nice for him to say her name at any other point than this. “I sort of…already have…? I mean, I was sort of seeing someone before I came here.”

Those eyebrows hike again. “Sort of?”

“Ah…” She grimaces. “He might…sort of…be the reason I’m here. Partly.”

He takes in a deep breath, and guides her to the mats. “All right, Doc,” he says, sitting down beside her. She nearly squeaks in relief when he wraps an arm around her. “Keep talking.”

[beardedmrbean]

Prime Minister Gabriel Attal is expected to give farmers new concessions in an attempt to calm down protests which have squeezed the French capital on Monday.

After protesting farmers blocked eight motorways leading to Paris on Monday, the French government is preparing more concessions to ease tensions.

The farmers have a list of complaints, including that working in agriculture has become too difficult and not lucrative enough.

France's new Prime Minister Gabriel Attal is set to give a speech in France’s lower house of parliament Tuesday, laying out his government's priorities and offering new aid measures to the agricultural sector.

It would be a new test for Attal, now in the first month of his new job, after the pro-agriculture measures he announced last week were deemed insufficient by the farmers. The 34-year-old prime minister has promised more aid measures.

On Monday, protesting farmers encircled Paris with traffic-snarling barricades, using hundreds of lumbering tractors and piles of hay bales to block highways leading into the French capital in a bid to pressure the government over the future of their industry, which has been shaken by the fallout from the war in Ukraine.

A protest that, for the time being, has no end in sight.

"There is total determination," said Arnaud Rousseau, president of the main and powerful agricultural union, the FNSEA, who was received by Attal yesterday afternoon and announced that they were continuing to negotiate with the government.

In an interview on Europe 1 radio, Rousseau said that there needed to be a "change of course" by the government and "symbolic emergency measures". He explained that the impression he had got from the Prime Minister yesterday was that he was "ready to go further on all issues".

The farmers have managed to evade police attempts to stop them, as their declared aim is to block access to the Rungis food market, the largest in Europe, some fifteen kilometres from Paris.

Interior Minister Gérald Darmanin, who has mobilised 15,000 officers in response to the protests, has warned since the weekend that he will not allow this to happen.

However, Darmanin has asked the police not to intervene in the so-called 'siege' blockades of Paris or the rest of the country - where there are several dozen - unless there is a threat to property or people.

Siege of Paris

The blockade of major roads around Paris - which hosts the Summer Olympics in six months - and protests elsewhere in France promised another difficult week for new Prime Minister Gabriel Attal, who has been in office for less than a month.

Protesters said Attal's attempts at pro-agriculture measures last week fell short of their demands that food production be made more lucrative, easier and fairer.

Farmers responded on Monday by deploying convoys of tractors, trailers and even rumbling harvesters in what they called a "siege" of Paris to win more concessions. Some protesters came with supplies of food and water, and tents to stay at the barricades if the government didn't back down.

Transport authorities in the Paris region reported blockages on the A1 motorway north of the city's main international airport, the A4 near the Disneyland theme park east of the capital and other normally busy roads.

"Our aim isn't to inconvenience or ruin the lives of French people," Arnaud Rousseau, president of the influential FNSEA agricultural union, told RTL radio. "Our aim is to put pressure on the government to quickly find solutions to the crisis."

Farmers in neighbouring Belgium have also set up barricades to stop traffic on some major roads, including those leading to the capital, Brussels. Most of the protests are taking place in the French-speaking part of the country.

[unitedfoodtruck]

Crafting custom food trucks, concession trailers, & shipping container restaurants tailored to your vision. USA #1 Mobile Kitchen Manufacturer, United Food Truck.

[spinoskingdom875]

The day has come, the brand new Super Mario Bros Movie has been released! Everyone across the Mushroom Kingdom went into the new Cinema that just opened. Everyone ordered their tickets and rushed inside into the lobby. The Concessions stand was packed with every creature ordering refreshments. The line got shorter and shorter, until the last group ordered their food. Mario and crew sat down in the lobby, waiting for the movie to start. He even invited his longtime rival and friend, Sonic the Hedgehog, to watch the new film with them. Sonic: Thanks for inviting me, Mario. Mario: No problem, I'm-a sorry we couldn't see your films when-a they came out. Sonic: It's all good, man. Daisy: We did see them eventually, and they were epic!! Peach: They were a such a blast, and the movie versions of you and your friends look so cute! Sonic: Heh, thanks. I am excited to see your new film. I do remember watching the old one back in... Luigi: Shh! Sonic: What? Luigi: It's-a best not to mention that-a one film. Daisy: Yeah. It's an old movie, but still, looking back, it does not look good at all. Sonic: Oh, right. Sorry about that. Heh-heh! Tiara: Is it time yet? Cappy looks at the clock. Cappy: Nope. Tiara: Aww, I really want to see the movie! Cappy: Me too, but it'll come on very soon. 5 Minutes later... PA Announcer: Attention, Moviegoers, the movie will begin in 10 minutes. Please head to the back of the cinema over there, enjoy your film! Thank you! The whole cinema cheers. Mario gets up and grabs his snack. Mario: Well, let's-a go! Sonic: Woo-hoo! Let's go! Peach: Wait up! They walked down the hall. Sonic: I'll admit, the film look so beautiful in the trailer, even that Rainbow Road. Peach: My eyes twinkled when I first saw it. It looked gorgeous! Daisy throws popcorn in the air and catches them. Daisy: (Mouth full) Yeah, everything looked so bright and lively. They stopped at the door, where they can hear various chatter on the other side. Mario: Well, here goes-a nothin. They walked into the auditorium. NOTE: Don't re-upload my Pictures anywhere without my permission. Thank you.

(Credits: 

Mario and Friends: (C) Nintendo. Sonic the Hedgehog (C) SEGA & Sonic Team. Movie Poster: www.mariowiki.com/File:SMB_Fin…. Super Star: www.mariowiki.com/File:Artwork… Mushroom: www.mariowiki.com/File:Sticker…

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

(STAGE: Cinema Interior: Movie Theater Lobby 3D model | CGTrader. The Model is not free! ---------------------------------------

(CHARACTERS:

Princess Daisy, and Toadette Spinosaurusking875.

Mario, Luigi, Princess Peach, and Bowser: Hakirya.

Sonic: Spinosaurusking875.

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

(PROPS) Popcorn: Bucket of Popcorn v1 Free 3D Model - .obj .stl - Free3D.

Drinks: created by: SpinosKingdom875. ---------------------------------------

[customconcessions]

Top Food Truck Constructors in Pennsylvania – Custom Concessions

Make your mobile food business visions a reality with Custom Concessions, Food Truck Builders Pennsylvania . We create and build top-of-the-line, fully customized food trucks and trailers to suit your unique requirements. Durable and efficient, our trucks enable you to serve customers with ease and panache! https://customconcessions.net/food-truck-builder/ 

[nageltrailerrepair]

Affordable food trailer fixes by Concession Repair Michigan

Keeping your food trailer in top shape doesn’t have to break the bank. Regular maintenance, DIY fixes for minor issues, and sourcing quality yet affordable parts can help you save. Partnering with trusted Concession Repair Michigan experts ensures reliable service at a fair price.

Preventative care, such as checking for leaks and servicing equipment on time, reduces costly breakdowns. Invest in durable materials and compare repair quotes to get the best deal. Keep your business running smoothly without overspending!

In this guide, we will explore practical ways to minimize your food trailer repair costs while ensuring your mobile kitchen remains in top working condition.

[foodtrailers]

Food Truck Everything You Need To Know Before Sale

Food trucks are becoming increasingly popular in the restaurant industry. They offer entrepreneurs a unique and cost-effective way to start their own businesses without worrying about high rent or long leases. However, a lot goes into buying a food truck for sale, from researching different models to negotiating prices with sellers. This article will provide an overview of everything you need to know before purchasing a food truck for sale. 

Understanding Food Truck Types 

When buying a food truck, the first step is understanding what types of vehicles are available on the market. The most common type of food truck is an open-air vehicle, which can come in many shapes and sizes depending on your needs and budget. Other trucks include:

Enclosed vehicles.

Concession trailers.

Mobile kitchens/catering vans.

Specialty vehicles like ice cream trucks or hot dog carts.

Each type has its own benefits and drawbacks, so you must research each one thoroughly before making any decisions. 

Researching Different Brands & Models 

Once you've decided which type of vehicle best fits your needs, it's time to research different brands and models available for sale. Start by looking at online classifieds, where you can find new and used units for sale from private sellers nationwide. Additionally, look into local brick-and-mortar businesses such as dealerships that may have inventory available and financing options if needed. Ensure that any unit considered meets all safety regulations your state or municipality set forth before making purchase decisions! 

Evaluating Your Budget & Financing Options  

Before diving headfirst into finding a food truck for sale near me, make sure you've taken time to evaluate your budget realistically. That means taking stock of how much money you have saved up already while also considering additional expenses such as licensing fees, insurance costs, fuel consumption rates, repairs/maintenance etc. Additionally, if financing is required, be sure to shop around with multiple lenders beforehand in order to compare interest rates/terms offered etc. Knowing how much money is available prioritises decision-making significantly during negotiations with potential vendors!  

Negotiating Prices With Vendors 

Once all necessary financial considerations have been addressed, it's time to focus on finding vendors selling what's desired. Depending upon individual preferences, this could mean going through online resources OR speaking directly with existing owners via word–of–mouth. Either way, consider arranging meetings when possible so a more accurate assessment of condition/pricing can be undertaken. Also, don't forget that haggling over discounts is key to getting the best deal possible!   

Finalising Purchase Transactions And Securing Insurance Coverage   

After all necessary negotiations have concluded, it's time to begin wrapping up purchase transactions. This means finalising contracts, transferring ownership documents and making payments as per agreed-upon terms. Additionally, it's also important to secure suitable insurance coverage, which can be done by obtaining quotes from multiple providers. Doing so ensures that the food truck is adequately protected in case of potential accidents or other unforeseen incidents that could cause considerable damage! 

Conclusion 

Buying a food truck for sale requires thorough research and careful consideration of different factors. It's important to understand the types of vehicles available, research different brands/models, evaluate your budget and financing options, negotiate prices with vendors, and secure proper insurance coverage before completing the purchase transaction. Following these steps will ensure you find the best food truck for sale at an affordable price.

[andeefabricators]

Why Get a Custom Box Trailer in Sydney?

A custom box trailer is a special-purpose working horse that can always be built to the right specifications. If you need something to haul equipment, transport materials, or even find a form of mobile accommodation, order your custom box trailer in Sydney!

Box Trailer In Sydney: The Advantages Of Customization:

You can think of using standard trailers that are produced in large quantities. However, custom box trailers have their advantages within their flexibility and usability that cannot be matched.

The Perfect Fit:

Make sure the trailer you choose meets your existing operations. Custom trailers come in certain sizes and can be made depending on the client’s requirements. Don’t worry about awkward maneuvering or wasted space.

Function Follows Form:

Do you need a space to organize tools? Do you need a lockable compartment to store your valuable equipment? Box trailers can come with various additional options that define the nature of your workflow and fit your needs.

Material Marvels:

It is possible to order customized trailers made from high-grade steel or aluminum, giving them maximum durability and protection against the weather. For some additional ultimate functionality, it can be modified to have features such as insulation.

Branding on the Move:

If you are looking for a box trailer for business, then you can add your company logo, colors, and contact information to your trailer. It creates an influence which is a rolling billboard that easily attracts attention frequently.

The Potential of Custom Box Trailers:

A custom box trailer in Sydney is highly versatile and can be beneficial in the following ways:

Trades on the Go:

For a business, a custom box trailer can be a lifesaver. It can be your mobile workshop equipped with all the tools and materials you need, to help you work with focus.

Retail on Wheels:

Trailers can be converted to become mobile stores for retailing products. It also means that from food sellers to artisans and many more can move these trailers to whatever place they desire. The possibilities are truly endless!

Mobile Living Made Easy:

Are you an outdoor enthusiast?  In fact, Sydney is the perfect location for this kind of event. Custom box trailers can be utilized with good-quality sleeping areas, a kitchenette and several storage facilities for other outdoor necessities.

Event Essentials:

When it comes to any special corporate events, you must make the most out of your custom trailer. With it, you can design branded booths, mobile stages, or concession stands. Depending upon the requirement and its execution, it becomes a solution that is both interesting and practical.  

The Financial Advantages Of A Box Trailer In Sydney:

Built to Last:

Unlike generic trailers, custom ones are designed, often built from high-quality materials and workmanship, which makes them durable and lower maintenance costs.

Enhanced Efficiency:

A custom trailer has the potential to improve operational efficiency and productivity because many tasks such as loading and unloading may require less time and also in organizing items.

Marketing on the Move:

A custom trailer on the other hand is the mobile advertisement that follows your trail. It can be a viable branding and marketing strategy, which is relatively cheaper.

The Bottom Line:

Getting a custom box trailer in Sydney is an investment in your business or even your personal life. The Andee Fabricator has many designs available to purchase or use as a base to build your own custom trailer. Learn more at www.andeefabricators.com