#kitchen weighing machine
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What are the most common kinds of kitchen racks?
1. Mini kitchen rack on the table:
Various porcelain bowls should not be placed on storage tables that have a certain height in the kitchen, as this wastes space. To make good use of the space, you can purchase some small countertop storage racks, such as ones that can hold seasoning bottles, spoons, shovels, etc. Keeping the kitchen clean and simple after storage makes the whole cooking environment relaxed and natural.
2. Small microwave oven rack:
A small multi-layer storage rack is very convenient for storing microwave ovens, ovens, and other items. Microwaves, ovens, and other items can be stored on such small multi-layer storage racks, which often have a very small footprint. A housewife can adjust the position of the storage rack in the entire kitchen at will due to its unfixed placement.
3. Freestanding kitchen rack:
There will be a lot of mess in some kitchens as the number of kitchen utensils increases. It is now possible to store several common pots and cooking utensils in a large kitchen utensil rack so that they can be easily accessed in the kitchen. In the kitchen, find nooks where items can be conveniently accessed without causing clutter and distractions.
How to choose the best self for the kitchen:
The first thing you should do is estimate the size of your kitchen, as well as the type and number of items you are expected to store. Space can be saved by using reasonable storage. After planning, select the model and brand that will best suit your needs. Our favorite products are those with high quality and low prices. If our kitchen is cluttered with many items, it will appear messy. Choosing the right kitchen storage rack is very important at this point.
EQUAL microwave oven stand with good load capacity is a great tool to organize your kitchen. Excellent workmanship, high load-bearing capability, and space-saving.
Source: https://wellandshelves.com/
#kitchen scales#kitchen scale#kitchen#kitchens#kitchen weighing machine#food lover#food photography#healthy food#home cooking#food#cooking#food pics#food diary#food addict#home made#food styling#digital scale#retail scale
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Popular digital grain moisture content meters
How Does Moisture Content Affect Coffee Roasters? At each stage of the coffee supply chain, the moisture content of a green bean must diminish – or the bean might become moldy, defective, and less valuable than before. Ensuring a bean dries correctly is essential in order to optimize its quality potential and minimize the chance of problems.Roasters, near the end of the supply chain, have two…
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#Animal scales#assorted weighing brands including Avery#Axle weigh bridge#Baby scales#Bag closers-stitching machine#Barcode readers/printer#Batch sealers#Counter scales#Crane (hanging) scales#Health ( height and weight ) scales#Industrial platforms#kitchen scales#Mini palm scales#Moisture meters#Pallet trolleys#Plastic bag sealers#Plastic foot sealers#Precision scales Analytical/Laboratory scales#Salter#Table top scales#Temperature gauges#Waterproof scales#Whole sale scales
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beatXP Kitchen Scale Multipurpose Portable Electronic Digital Weighing Scale | Weight Machine With Back light LCD Display | White |10 kg | 2 Year Warranty
Price: (as of – Details) Product Description Product Dimensions : 22.5 x 15.5 x 3.5 cm; 450 g Date First Available : 7 July 2022 Manufacturer : beatXP ASIN : B0B61DSF17 Item model number : KS106 Country of Origin : China Manufacturer : beatXP, GHV Medical Anchor Private Limited , Plot N0 1453. ST Tower Old Delhi Gurgaon Road -122008, Contact – 91-7303762766 email…
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#beatXP#digital#Display#Electronic#home appliances kitchen under 500#Kitchen#LCD#Light#Machine#Multipurpose#Portable#Scale#Warranty#Weighing#Weight#White#Year
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20kg Mechanical Baby Scale Infant Weighing Scales in Uganda
Professional Infant Scale (removable tray)
The infant digital scale is gently curved to prevent infants from rolling off during weighing, and features excellent precision to accurately track babies' growth. It is compatible with infant length measurement devices, and features a removable tray for easy cleaning.
Infant Scale (removable tray) A baby scale is used to weigh newborns and very young children too young to stand. … Measuring the changing weight of an infant in the first few months of life cleaning Vibration-free weighing: vibrations are filtered out so that a stable weight is obtained, ideal for restless babies Backlit LCD display
Thank you for allowing Accurate Weighing Scales (U) Ltd the privilege to serve you in advance. For inquiries on deliveries contact us
Office +256 (0) 705 577 823, +256 (0) 775 259 917
Address: Wandegeya KCCA Market South Wing, 2nd Floor Room SSF 036
Email: [email protected]
#Crane (hanging) scales#Whole sale scales#Baby scales#Mini palm scales#Industrial platforms#assorted weighing brands including Avery#Salter#Health ( height and weight ) scales#Precision scales Analytical/Laboratory scales#Moisture meters#Temperature gauges#Pallet trolleys#kitchen scales#Animal scales#Bag closers-stitching machine#Plastic bag sealers#Plastic foot sealers#Batch sealers#Table top scales#Counter scales#Barcode readers/printer#Waterproof scales#Axle weigh bridge#Mini and full Weigh bridges among others.
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Explore our range of high-quality weight machines for sale at Symphony Weighing. From precision scales to industrial weighing solutions, we offer reliable products to meet your needs.
#weighingscale#weighing machine#weight loss#industrial machinery#industrial manufacturing#kitchen scales#electronic scale#electronic#weight management#balance#business
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Digital barcode printer Scale for Supermarket in Kampala
Weighing Function: The scale component of the device is used to accurately measure the weight of the product. It can handle a wide range of weights, depending on the specific model.
Barcode Generation: Once the weight is determined, the barcode label printer scale generates a barcode based on the weight and other relevant information, such as the product code or description. The barcode is usually a standard symbology like UPC or EAN.
Label Printing: The device prints the generated barcode onto a label, along with additional information like the product name, price, and any other relevant details. The label may also include a human-readable representation of the barcode for manual entry if needed.
Thank you for allowing Accurate Weighing Scales (U) Ltd the privilege to serve you in advance.
For inquiries on deliveries contact us
Office +256 705 577 823, +256 775 259 917
Address: Wandegeya KCCA Market South Wing, 2nd Floor Room SSF 036
Email: [email protected]
#Crane (hanging) scales#Whole sale scales#Baby scales#Mini palm scales#Industrial platforms#assorted weighing brands including Avery#Salter#Health ( height and weight ) scales#Precision scales Analytical/Laboratory scales#Moisture meters#Temperature gauges#Pallet trolleys#kitchen scales#Animal scales#Bag closers-stitching machine#Plastic bag sealers#Plastic foot sealers#Batch sealers#Table top scales#Counter scales#Barcode readers/printer#Waterproof scales#Axle weigh bridge#Mini and full Weigh bridges among others. Baby scales#bathroom scales
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Buy the Best Portable Digital Weighing Scales in India
Scales used to calculate an object’s weight or mass are known as weighing scales. Scales are used for several industrial and commercial purposes, and goods ranging from feathers to entire tractor-trailers are sold by weight. Industries weigh trucks, train cars, and other large machinery on computerized scales. Weight Machine for Shop - Buy the best portable digital weighing scales in India from ImStarTrading at fair prices. We have a wide range of weighing scale machines.
#weight machine for shop#best weighing scale#buy digital kitchen scales#buy weight scales#portable weighing scale
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Instructions
Irene x Male Reader
word count: 3.2K
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You drive up to Irene's mansion, where every inch of the lawn looks meticulously manicured, and the fountain at the entrance shoots water in a pattern that can only be described as "obscenely expensive." You still can't believe you were hired to train a woman who doesn't seem to need a single day in the gym, but money is money, right?
You step out of the car and walk to the front door, a massive wooden structure that probably weighs more than your car. Before you have the chance to knock, the door opens as if the house has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Irene appears, and the first thing you think is that the photos simply don't do her justice.
She's like an upgraded version of a classic diva, someone with a beauty that would be admired in any era of humanity, now enhanced by all the improvements time could offer. Black hair cascading in soft waves, feline eyes that devour you in a fraction of a second, and a posture that makes you wonder if you're standing before a queen or a trap disguised as a woman.
"Oh, I was excited to finally meet my personal trainer," she says.
"Ms. Irene," you reply, offering your hand in a gesture that feels outdated in her presence. Her hand is soft and firm, and the grip is just enough to make you feel that you are, without a doubt, in foreign territory.
"Come on, I'll show you the house," she says, turning quickly without waiting for a response. You follow her, walking through a house that is a maze of marble, stainless steel, and glass. Every piece of art on the walls screams in a flamboyant way, "I have more money than you can imagine," and the faint scent of fresh flowers lingers in the air, as if even the aroma of the house was custom-made.
"This here is the living room," she says, passing through a room larger than your entire apartment, and you pretend not to be impressed. "And over there is the kitchen. You might need something to drink after the workouts. Or during, if I decide to tire you out too much."
She smiles again, and this time you can’t help but smile back, with that kind of irony that only arises when you know you're in trouble.
"This is the bedroom," she says, stopping in front of a closed door. You feel the tension rise a bit, and she notices it. "Not that you’ll need it, but I thought you'd like to know where it is." She opens the door and reveals a room that looks like it came straight out of a decor magazine: an immense bed, silk sheets, and a view of the garden that seems hand-painted.
"Nice place," you say, more out of politeness than anything else.
"Thank you. Now, the gym," she says, as if this was the true purpose of the entire visit. She leads you to a room where all the exercise machines seem to shine with newness. "I need to stay in shape, after all," she says, leaning casually on a treadmill, her posture suggesting that the idea of sweat is something completely alien.
"Shall we begin, then?" you ask, already pulling out the water bottle from your bag, trying to appear professional.
You decide to start the session with the basics, which seems like the best approach when dealing with someone whose idea of physical effort probably consists of reaching for the remote control.
"So, Irene, have you trained before?" you ask, but in your mind, she doesn’t exactly look like the type who frequents a gym.
She smiles, that smile you're already beginning to associate with trouble. "Only if you count marathon shopping trips and half-hour Pilates sessions with my instructor who told me to breathe deeply and think of happy places. Does that count?"
You smile back. "Well, let's start with something simple. A warm-up. Just to prepare the muscles."
"Oh, I love a good warm-up," she replies.
You guide her through some basic stretches, and of course, she starts asking for help. "Can you show me how to do this one? I've always had trouble with it," she says while trying to touch her toes.
You approach, placing your hands on her waist to guide her, trying to ignore the fact that she’s perfumed for a workout. "Like this, push a little further forward... That’s it."
She lets out a soft sigh, almost inaudible, but you notice. "I don't think I've ever had someone help me like this," she says, making you realize that "help" has multiple connotations for her.
"Practice makes perfect," you respond, trying to stay focused.
After the warm-up, you lead her to the weight machines. "Let's start with something simple, like the leg extension machine. This will work your quadriceps."
She looks at the machine as if it were some kind of medieval torture device. "Quadriceps... Right. And this does what exactly? Makes me gain muscles?"
"Exactly. You sit here, adjust the weight, and lift your legs to extend the knee. It’s great for toning the thighs."
She sits down, but instead of following your instructions, she just pretends to be confused. "I don't think I'm getting it. Can you show me again?"
You lean in to help her adjust the position of her legs, and you feel her gaze fixed on you. "Like this? Is it good now?" she asks, her voice softer than it should be for a simple exercise instruction.
"Yes, it's perfect," you reply.
"So, have you been training for a long time?" she asks as you guide her through the exercise. "It’s noticeable, you know... by your physique, the way you explain…"
"I’ve been training for a few years. It’s a passion of mine."
"Passion? Interesting," she says. "And are you single? Or is there someone waiting for you at home after you spend the day helping women like me stay in shape?"
You hesitate, realizing that the conversation is veering off course.
"I'm single. I guess my work takes up most of my time. What about you? You told me your husband is always traveling, right?"
"He's away most of the time, yes. His work is... demanding. But luckily, I know how to take care of myself," she says, lifting her legs on the machine with a little more enthusiasm. When Irene was done, she paused to drink water, then walked between the machines until she chose the next one. “Hey, help me here. I don't want to mess up the movement, I need your guidance." She says, standing in front of the lat pulldown machine.
"Oh, great. This one’s for your back and shoulders," you explain, adjusting the weight. "You hold here, pull the bar down, and then release slowly, feeling the resistance."
She looks at the machine as if it were an abstract art piece.
"Looks complicated. Show me how it's done?"
You demonstrate the movement, feeling her eyes on every motion of your body. When you finish, she positions herself, but instead of pulling the bar, she holds it for a second, looking at you with a false expression of confusion. "I think I’m not doing it right. Can you guide me?"
You approach again, this time placing your hands on her arms, helping her execute the movement. "Like this," you say, your voice a little lower. "Pull with your back muscles, not just your arms."
"Since you’ve been working out for a long time, you must be very strong," she comments as she pulls the bar, her muscles tensing softly under your hands. "And you must be used to lifting heavy, right?"
"It depends on the workout," you respond, trying to ignore the fact that every word she says seems to have a double meaning. "But it’s always good to vary, to do a bit of everything."
"So, how many of these should I do?" she asks, as if she’s genuinely interested in the answer, but her eyes say something else.
"Let's do three sets of twelve reps," you reply, trying to keep a professional tone. She does the first set with you close by, watching every movement, and then asks for your help with the next machine.
The dynamic continues until, by the end of the workout, she’s sweating, but in a way that looks more like a healthy glow than discomfort. She stretches, her muscles relaxing, and looks at you with that same smile that started everything. "I think you made me work pretty hard today. Maybe I’ll need a massage afterward," she says, her tone provocative.
You smile, unsure whether to take her seriously or laugh. "Massages aren’t part of the package, but we can talk about a relaxation stretch."
"We’ll see," she says, stepping closer with that smile that always precedes trouble, the kind you should have learned to avoid. “It seems like I’m the only one sweating here,” she says, with a sweetness that’s pure venom, before leaning in and, without warning, licking your cheek.
You take a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. "Ms. Irene, what is this?!"
"I told you, you’re not very sweaty. And I licked you to prove it," she responds with the casualness of someone asking the time.
"But what the hell does that mean? I came here to work—"
"And you’ll get paid at the end, of course!" she interrupts, her smile widening in a way that only makes things worse. “I just want… to have a little fun with you. Include that in the deal. You could earn a bonus for it, if you’d like.”
She takes another step forward.
“Irene, you’re married. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not a good idea.”
“No one needs to know, sweetheart,” she whispers, as if it were a secret you truly wanted to hear. “You’re too young to be so worried about life.”
You try to speak, but the words come out jumbled, as if your mouth forgot how to work.
“I-I… This isn’t right.”
She laughs, a sound that makes you feel like a mischievous boy caught in the act. “I bet I’ll make you change your mind once you see what you’re missing.” With a quick, decisive movement, she removes her top, revealing small, pale, perfect, and provocative breasts. Her smile widens, and you feel your face flush with heat. Worse than that—you feel your cock pulse in your pants.
“What do you think?” she asks, each word dripping with irony and certainty.
“Cover yourself, please!” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, but the plea is almost pathetic.
“Oh, don’t play the saint with me,” she retorts, suddenly stepping closer, grabbing your hand with firm resolve and placing it on her breast. The touch is warm and soft. You swallow hard, but it feels like the lump in your throat is stuck there for good. And the worst part? You can’t pull your hand away.
“What do you think? My boobs are small, but they fit perfectly in your mouth,” she teases, her voice lower, more intense.
“This isn’t right, Ms. Irene…” you try, but your resistance is fragile.
“Shh! Just call me Irene,” she orders, and before you can protest again, she seals any chance of escape with a kiss—warm and commanding, as if she already knew you wouldn’t say no.
Before you could even process what was happening, Irene had already wrapped her hand around your cock. With force. With a desire that you felt reverberate down your spine. “You’re so hard for me,” she whispers, her lips pulling away from yours, but the heat of her proximity still clinging to your skin.
“Irene…” you murmur, the name escaping as a whisper, almost a plea, but for what? For her to stop or to keep going?
“That’s right,” she continues, giving you no room to regain control. “I want to hear you moan my name while you fuck me good.”
Before you could refuse—or worse, agree—she pulls you toward a weight bench like she’s practiced the move a thousand times. It’s astonishing how a woman so small, so delicate, can exert such absolute control over you. You feel like a toy in her hands, powerless to resist.
You take off your shirt while she kneels to untie your shoes, making sure every detail is perfect, that you’re comfortable—but not for you, for her. When she asks you to take off the rest, you comply without question, feeling the cool air caress your exposed skin. She compliments your physique, her words sliding over your skin like hot oil. Her hands roam over your muscles, her fingers tracing the contours of your biceps.
“You’re so hot,” she murmurs, kissing your chest, her lips warm and soft. The excitement builds within you, uncontrollable, wild.
You sit back down on the bench, Irene kneels between your legs, her smile a mix of wickedness and pure desire. She takes your cock with a confidence that makes you hold your breath, her touch firm, almost possessive. “Wow… you’re much bigger and thicker than my husband,” she murmurs, licking the tip, teasing, while her eyes remain fixed on yours. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to have something like this… I’m going to love gagging on this cock.”
She slowly opens her mouth, her lips stretching around the head of your cock, and the sensation is mind-blowing. You watch, mesmerized, as she starts to take you in, inch by inch, until her mouth is completely full. “Oh, yes,” she mumbles with difficulty, her words muffled as she struggles to accommodate your size.
She begins to move her head up and down, faster and faster, the wet, warm sound of her mouth creating a steady rhythm. Her small mouth adjusts to your cock, fighting the instinct to pull away, but instead, she pushes forward, making it clear she wants more.
The sight of her, drowning on your cock, is almost unbearably arousing. You can’t resist, your hands go to her hair, pulling to gain more control. With a decisive move, you push deeper into her throat, and the muffled moan she lets out is a mix of pleasure and challenge. “Just like that,” she moans, tears welling in her eyes from pleasure and effort, but with no intention of stopping. She wants this as much as you do.
You feel her throat tightening around your cock, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you as she takes you as deep as she can, not giving up even when her air becomes scarce. The mix of pain and pleasure on her face only fuels your desire further, and you continue, deeper and deeper, until she finally has to stop to breathe, gasping, but with a satisfied, lascivious smile on her face.
Irene stands up, her gaze burning with a desire that mirrors your own. She starts to take off her leggings, revealing she’s not wearing any panties. The sight of her like this, naked and ready, is enough to take your breath away.
Without a second thought, you grab her firmly, your hands holding her slim waist as you lift her off the ground with an ease you didn’t even know you had. Irene lets out a low, sensual moan as she wraps her legs around you, locking her ankles behind your back, pulling the two of you even closer. With a decisive movement, you press her against the nearest wall, the cold concrete contrasting with the growing heat between you.
“Ohhh, yes,” she moans as you penetrate her for the first time, her head falling back, hitting the wall, but she doesn’t seem to care. “You’re so thick!”
With each thrust, Irene responds with louder, more desperate moans. “Just like that, baby… more, please, more!” Her voice is a mix of command and plea, her nails digging into your shoulders, pulling you closer, as if she wants to merge with you.
“That’s it! Oh, God! You fuck me better than my husband!”
That somehow spurs you on, every movement becoming deeper, stronger, as if you’re trying to shove every inch of yourself into her. Irene bites her lip, her face in pure pleasure, and then she starts babbling, as if facial expressions weren’t enough to describe what she’s feeling. “Yes… fuck me… fuck me hard… do what my husband never could…”
But she’s not the only one on the edge. The heat of her body, the almost painful tightness around your cock, every moan and sigh, it all makes you want more, makes you lose control.
After what feels like both an eternity and an instant, you feel like you need more. With a quick move, you pull away from the wall and carry her to the bench. Irene drops to the floor, turns around, positioning herself on all fours while you sit down. She positions herself, slowly lowering onto your cock, moaning as she feels you stretch inside her, filling every inch.
She leans back against you, her head resting on your shoulder, her body sinking even further into your lap. Your hands immediately move to her small breasts, squeezing them, while your lips find her delicate neck, biting and sucking the soft skin. Irene lets out a loud moan, the sound of pure satisfaction, and arches her body, pushing herself even deeper.
“Yes… leave a mark… mark that you were here… that you fucked me like no one ever has,” she pleads, her words breathless, interrupted by moans that only grow louder as you squeeze and thrust into her.
You don’t hesitate, biting harder, leaving a visible mark on her neck, a testament to what’s happening. Irene shudders in response, her pussy tightening even more around you, each of her movements sending waves of pleasure through you, making you forget any shred of morality. She moves against you, her rhythm frantic, the need for more, always more, evident in every gesture.
“Yes… yes, baby… fuck me until I can’t take it anymore,” she moans, her hands reaching back, grabbing your neck, pulling you closer as she continues to move, to lose herself in the sensation.
Irene, breathless, leans in closer, and with a soft voice, almost a whisper, says in your ear, “I want you to fuck my tight ass.”
Her words are like a match striking the box, igniting something fierce within you. Irene rises off your lap and walks to a corner of the gym, where she grabs a bottle of lube. She returns with a mischievous smile, shaking the bottle in the air. “I brought this just for this moment,” she says.
“You had this in mind from the start, didn’t you?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
Irene doesn’t bother replying. Instead, she kisses you before lying down on the padded floor, her pale skin contrasting with the dark material, her body exposed in a posture of pure submission, but with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they want. “Come here, you naughty boy,” she calls, her voice like poisoned honey.
You kneel beside her, your hands trembling with desire as you reach for the lube. Irene smiles at you, then gets on all fours and arches her back. With steady movements, you pour the gel into your palm and begin applying it to her ass, feeling the warm, soft skin under your fingers. Irene lets out a low sigh, closing her eyes, savoring the sensation. "That's it... get me ready, I want to feel every inch of your thick cock inside me."
You don’t waste any time. With one hand, you spread the lube around and inside her ass, your fingers gently penetrating to prepare her. Irene bites her lip, her body slightly writhing, a mix of pleasure and anticipation. "Feels good, keep going... make me ready for you."
When you feel she’s sufficiently lubed, you apply the rest to your cock, rubbing it until it’s fully coated, hard and throbbing.
Irene changes position, lying on her back on the floor. You position yourself between her raised legs, and she looks at you with eyes full of desire. "Come on, don't wait any longer," she begs, her voice low and sweet. You press the tip of your cock against her tight entrance, pushing slowly, feeling the initial resistance. Irene lets out a moan of pain mixed with pleasure, and you keep going, advancing inch by inch, feeling the heat and pressure around you.
"Ahhh… yes," Irene moans, her eyes closed, her hands gripping the padding beneath her as you penetrate her slowly. "It's so big… so tight…"
You keep pushing, feeling her ass open up, millimeter by millimeter, her body adjusting to your size. The heat, the pressure, the sensation of filling her completely is indescribable, and the low moan she lets out only fuels your desire. "Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me deeper," she pleads.
You obey, pushing deeper until you're finally all the way inside her. Irene lets out a muffled moan, a sound of pure satisfaction, her body arching with pleasure. "Yes… like that… don’t stop," she begs, her eyes shining with wild desire. You start to move, slowly at first, savoring every second, every contortion of her body, every moan that escapes her lips.
As you gain rhythm, Irene’s moans grow louder, more desperate. "Yes… fuck my ass… do what I never let my husband do… ahhh… harder… please," she moans, every word an encouragement for you to go deeper, to push both of you to the limit.
And you do, increasing your speed and force, your hands gripping her thighs firmly, guiding each thrust with precision, feeling her body tremble with pleasure until it all comes down to heat, sweat, the pure desire consuming you both.
Irene then begins to tremble, her body stiff with imminent pleasure. She looks at you, her eyes burning with lust and urgency. "Mmm, I’m about to cum, babe… Let’s cum together?" she asks, her voice broken by moans.
You feel her body pulsing around you, each contraction almost pushing you over the edge.
"Do you want to come inside my pussy? Fill it with your cum?"
The desire and madness of the moment take over you. “Can I?” you ask, your voice tense, almost disbelieving.
“Of course you can,” she replies with a wicked smile, "I'm on the pill, darling. I want to feel you unload everything inside me."
With that, you both move into the classic missionary position. Irene spreads her legs and bends them, her feet planted on the floor, while you kneel between her thighs, your cock positioned exactly where she wants it. Irene wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you closer. The warmth and tightness of her pussy confirm your decision: you need to cum inside her.
You start thrusting into her, each stroke deeper and faster than the last. Irene moans loudly, the sound of her moans echoing through the gym. “Ahhh, yes… more… harder…” she screams, her eyes closed in pure ecstasy. “Fuck my pussy… Make me your cum dump.”
You’re on the verge of exploding, your entire body tense with the anticipation of climax. Irene feels it and, between moans, murmurs, “I’m almost there… I’m going to cum…”
“Me too… I’m almost there…” you reply, your breathing fast.
She opens her eyes, her gaze burning with intensity. “Have you ever cum inside a stranger before, huh? Ever filled a married woman with cum, you pervert?” She asks, her words hitting you like a wave of heat.
Those words make you lose control. With one last, powerful thrust, you bury yourself deep inside her, feeling your cum release into the depths of Irene’s pussy. She screams as she cums at the same time, her body writhing beneath you, her legs tightening around your waist.
“Ahhh… I can feel it all… it’s so warm… so good…” Irene moans, her words loaded with pure pleasure, her breathing ragged as she feels every hot stream filling her. You keep moving, even as the orgasm leaves you breathless, prolonging the pleasure for both of you.
When you finally pull away, your cock slipping out, cum begins to slowly drip from her pussy.
Irene smiles, a satisfied and wicked smile, as she looks at you, her breathing still uneven. "That was… exactly what I wanted," she says, her eyes gleaming with contentment, as the cum drips between her thighs, and you watch, fascinated, as she uses her fingers to spread her lips, letting the cum flow freely. She collects some of the semen with a finger and brings it to her mouth, tasting the result of your mix.
Irene kneels beside you and leans in for a deep kiss, her lips warm and moist against yours, while her hands glide over your body, caressing you with a certain tenderness.
“So, handsome, what did you think of the workout?” she asks.
You, still with your body pulsing with residual pleasure, respond with a smile, “I loved it. It was… incredible.”
Irene smiles back. “Good to hear that,” she says, with a note of amusement, “you can consider yourself my official personal trainer now. And the best part, you’re still getting paid for it. Isn’t it the best job in the world?”
You laugh, a mix of incredulity and amusement, realizing that your concept of ‘job’ will never be the same. “So that’s it? Daily sex with a gorgeous woman and I’m going to get paid for it? What are the downsides?”
“There aren’t any. As long as my husband never finds out, of course. But that’s my problem. Your only requirement and concern is to keep me satisfied.”
With that, she gets up nonchalantly, and starts gathering the clothes scattered on the floor.
You also get up, and as you’re dressing, you can’t help but think about the absurdity of the job you’re accepting.
When you’re almost ready to leave, Irene approaches, casually adjusting her hair.
“Don’t forget, tomorrow is training day again,” she says, her voice full of light arrogance. “Same time. Don’t be late. I want more of that… energy,” she adds with a smile.
You nod, laughing to yourself as you try to regain some of your composure.
“Sure, I’ll mark it on the calendar.”
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between the bars •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
followed by: once more to see you and slow like honey
fandom: gravity falls
ship: ford pines x reader
warnings: brief mention of boners, making out, angst
summary:
being engaged to the world’s smartest idiot feels like navigating a storm while he’s engrossed in his portal research. you wonder if there’s anything you can do to help him.
Three months.
Ninety-one sleepless, tormented days.
That’s how long you’ve watched Ford, once so full of life, become a shell of himself.
Each day seems to blend into the next, weighed down by the crushing demands of his portal. His bright eyes have lost their spark, replaced by a weary, distant look that suggests he is fighting a constant battle with exhaustion. He’s always buried in his research, disappearing into a maze of endless calculations and theories, only coming up to ask for coffee, food, or help with his measurements. Each interaction is a reminder of the distance that has grown between you, making you ache for the vibrant person he is beneath all the work. It allows you to realize something.
Stanford is an incredibly stubborn man.
You count your breaths, letting the full force of Ford’s distance fill you. Once a day, only in the evening, you allow yourself to feel abandoned, lost, and alone—but only here, only in the evening, before Stanford trudges upstairs for his third pot of coffee. Afterwards, you must set these feelings aside, for there is still so much work to be done, so much still at stake.
Stanford lets you handle all the paper calculations and complex math for the portal, trusting you with the intricate details crucial to his project. Yet, despite your role, he keeps you from seeing the fruits of your labor. You are barred from the basement, the place where the results of your hard work come to life. This exclusion only deepens your sense of isolation and frustration, as you toil endlessly without ever truly understanding the impact of your efforts. The distance between what you contribute and what you’re allowed to see only reinforces the feeling of being a cog in a machine, valued for your skills but denied any real connection to the end result.
Beyond the kitchen door, you can hear your lab mates arguing. The last light of day was leaking through the fissures of the window shutters, changing shape as they paced outside, their shadows stretching to where you sit, hidden, not yet prepared to face them. Though you could not make out their words, you could detect the urgency in their voices. You pressed your palms against your eyes and sighed, then rolled up the loose sleeves of Stanford’s (now your) sweater.
With a harsh, abrupt grunt, akin to the percussive crack of a twig beneath a boot, your fiancé wrenched the splintered door open, slamming it shut with a resounding thud. You were jolted from your thoughts, having been lost in your own reverie as the unexpected noise shattered your concentration. As he stood there, his face etched with a mixture of anger and exhaustion, you could see the deep lines of fatigue and frustration carved into his features. He muttered a stream of incoherent curses under his breath, his visible irritation and weariness painting a stark picture of his emotional state.
Softly, you encouraged him. “Ford, what is it?”
He didn’t answer; he only stood, looking at you as if he might scream.
“It’s Fiddleford!” Stanford growled. “He’s speaking nonsense! Trying to propose that only bad can come from the portal we spent months on! Your calculations, my handiwork and experience? All down the drain because McGucket is scared? It’s ridiculous! I should’ve never trusted him. It seems I can trust no one with my work these days!”
His words caught you between places: you stare down at the ring that graced your finger, the tea kettle whistling, trails of steam emitting behind you, leaving you in between your selves.
“No one?” you repeat, but did not elaborate further. You did not want to be cruel to him, but now that he had insulted you (now, of all times, when you were working so hard to understand him), it was difficult to resist lashing out at him.
Ford paused, words caught between his teeth as you stood in silence. “[Y/n]… my love.” Regret crept into his voice, daring to color his words with a warmth you were sure was genuine—but rather than comfort, it only wounded you. “Of course I can trust you. This portal… It wouldn’t be possible without your work.”
It broke you—or broke what feeble grip you had on yourself, the reserves of strength you used to keep your grief and despair in check all spent.
“My work,” you spat out, almost hissing the words through clenched teeth. You threw the kettle off the stove and pivoted to confront him, closing the distance between you with two broad, angry strides. Pointing a finger at him, you seethed, “Is that all the trust you have? Just your precious portal? Ford, when was the last time you actually talked to me? I can't deal with this anymore! I followed you all the way to Gravity Falls, to the middle of nowhere, and you barely let me see the full scope of my work. Always holed up in the basement.”
Your palm remains red from the heat of the kettle’s handle, but that does not burn as bad as the heat of your fiancé’s abandonment. And still, stupidly, in spite of it all, you wanted to trust Ford. To believe that there was a reason, an explanation for all the half-truths and deceptions. You want to protect him. You want your answers. You want to see him: not a passing nod of acknowledgment, or a pat on the back as you walk past him, or a fragment of him in a dream, but his skin in the flesh, and you loathe yourself for how badly you want it… but you turn that loathing outward, funneling it through the anger, and set the air around you crackling with fury.
As you glared at him, a profound sense of abandonment and worthlessness enveloped you like a shroud. It felt as though you had been reduced to nothing more than a glorified calculator in Ford’s eyes—a mere instrument, a cog in the vast machinery of his ambitions, used and discarded with no regard for your own significance. The weight of your perceived insignificance bore down on you, each moment in his shadow a reminder of how fleeting and unimportant your role had become. The very essence of your being seemed to diminish with every unacknowledged contribution, leaving you to wrestle with the crushing realization that your efforts and sacrifices had been eclipsed by his relentless pursuit, barely noted and even less appreciated.
Stanford’s eyes met yours, narrowing ever so slightly as he took in the gravity of the moment. He measured the tension between you, a flicker of regret crossing his features as he struggled to comprehend the full extent of your pain. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken remorse, before he finally cleared his throat, his voice betraying a hint of sorrow for the hurt he had caused and the realization of how far he had let things go.
“I'm sorry, [Y/n].” Stanford reached out to hold your waist—and did you imagine it, or did you lean into that touch, pressing your body to the warmth of his open palms? You swallowed. Softly, he asked you, “Do you want me to go?”
You shook your head, more as an excuse to look away from him than anything—now that you had reprimanded him, you realized just how close he was, and your hair fell in front of your eyes, offering you a moment of reprieve. It was difficult having him so near; when your rage subsided, you were left with a profound sense of abandonment and a wounded heart. In a voice tinged with desperation and hurt, you asked, “Why can’t you just let me help you, Ford?”
As the words left your lips, you found yourself instinctively moving closer, your breath mingling with his. The proximity heightened the tension between you, the unspoken emotions crackling in the air. Your lips nearly brushed his as you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice blending with an undeniable, charged intimacy.
“[Y/n],” he begs, but he keeps his hands around your waist. “It’s dangerous…” But even as he speaks, his head is falling towards yours, his mouth ajar and questing, breath ragged.
You lift your hand from the collar of Stanford’s lab coat to hold his face, running your thumb tenderly over the stubble that graced his sharp jawline.
“I’m just as capable as Fiddleford,” you whisper, only inches between you now, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck as you speak the words. “Let me prove myself to you.”
Ford shudders. When his eyes meet yours again, they read something within them—perhaps some hidden fate or doom—and then, he remains. He holds you in his eyes like he is weighing you, or trying to carry a piece of you away with him. With a weary sigh, he lifts his hands to frame your face instead, tracing your cheek with his thumb. He leans forward—you dare not breathe—and presses his lips to your brow, just below the line of your hair. You can feel the soft warmth of his breath against the top of your head. Your eyes sting with tears; you will your body not to shake.
“I know you’re incredibly intelligent, but what Fiddleford saw in that portal… it ruined him. I don’t want the same fate for you.” He pleads, raising a hand of his own as if to pry yours from his face, but it trembles instead, then covers yours, holding the warmth of your palm to his cheek. “It is not that simple.”
“It can be,” you insist, as you lower your other hand to rest above his frantic, pounding heart. “It is.”
The space between the two of you is shrinking before you know whether you or Ford had moved first. Then your palm was carding through the tangled brown hair at the back of his head, drawing him closer as you kiss. When your mouths first met, Ford flinched, as though he might retreat… but he parted his lips for you, and your knees weaken at the taste of his tongue. You clutched his lab coat; his hands danced across your waist to the small of your back and held you against him. His heat rose against you; you could feel him through his slacks, insistent against your thigh—
“I’m sorry,” Stanford whispers, his lips brushing against yours before he pulls away. He turns abruptly and exits the room. Without another word, he heads straight for the basement, leaving you standing there, your heart aching with the weight of unsaid confessions and unfulfilled desires. The intensity of the moment lingers in the air, a palpable reminder of the emotional distance that remains between you.
The way he looked at you was too much; so much unspoken between the two of you, so much you wish to tell him, confess to him: how he always makes you feel safe. That this whole research project, the calculations and all, had only ever been bearable because he had let you be by his side. That his presence is more valuable to you than anything; that you had treasured every moment spent with him. That you’re worried for him.
That you felt like he was in danger, and you were running out of time.
#gravity falls#stanford pines#ford pines x reader#stanford pines x reader#angst#lime#longing#ford is kind of an asshole#gravity falls x reader
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Maybe in another world the poison Sanji’s mum took didn’t work on Sanji, or at least not in the same way.
A child with black hair and dull eyes, and like his brothers he’s made to be a solider who follows orders.
The difference is that he follows his mum’s instead of Judge’s.
She’s distraught that the poison wasn’t enough, but she raises Sanji as best she can to be someone free, even if he can’t really be.
He learns to cook because she asks him to (she wonders if she’s fooling herself when she sees just a glimmer of excitement in his dull eyes).
He guards her like a dog as she grows sick, this six year old who can’t even see over the counters. But he’s strong and can fight and all he knows is that what his mum says is what he does.
And when she’s dying, she tells him to run. Says whatever happens, get away from Judge.
And when she dies, that’s what he does. Because he’s an emotionless machine, but he’s following her orders. She told him to be free from Germa, and to seek friends. He doesn’t understand the second part (“friends are a weakness” Judge had said) so he ignores it, but he goes.
He finds the Orbit at age seven and he already has cooking skills (and he’s super powered— he’s good at what he does). They’re creeped out by him, most of the cooks just try to ignore him or slink around him, this terrifying little kid who can dice hundreds of onions in an hour.
He doesn’t interact with them either— his mum said to be free, and he assumes this is “free”. He assumes these aren’t “friends”, at least they’re not like in the books she read him. No one has fought for him or offered to share their things with him, so these must not be them.
And then, of course, the Orbit is hit by pirates, and then hits a storm. Sanji ends up stranded with Zeff on that cliff. Why’d Zeff save him? Maybe it was the way he stood emotionless in front of him with those dead eyes. Said he had to get back to cooking like nothing mattered.
Maybe it was the way everyone else looked at him like they were scared of him, this little ten year old unaware of his effect.
Maybe it was the almost imperceptible way he flinched when another cook came near him, like he was waiting for the next attack.
It doesn’t matter now.
What matters is that Sanji’s on the island with Zeff and they’re starving, but Zeff gives him food. Zeff loses his leg for Sanji. These things are adding up, Sanji thinks this might be what his mum wanted him to find.
He’s not sure.
Uncertainty doesn’t fit well with him.
But his mum said to find a friend and Zeff fits what he knows, so he devotes himself like a soldier. When they get off the island, Zeff can’t get rid of him no matter what he tries (he doesn’t try too hard).
They get a restaurant.
Sanji works like a machine in the kitchens.
Zeff puts him on food prep for years and Sanji does it without complaint. No one is as good as him at finely dicing, at weighing and measuring to the letter. He even does the dishes when they’re behind, and only breaks one before he figures out not to grip with all his strength.
Zeff makes him a full fledged chef at fifteen.
He always feels a little… conflicted about making Sanji work. The boy doesn’t have friends and doesn’t seem to desire them. He doesn’t have emotions. It feels wrong to make him work when he doesn't have the fight to object.
But Sanji’s his responsibility for some reason, and he’s accepted that.
And once, just once, when Sanji is seventeen, Judge comes down in the middle of the night to find a full five course meal prepared. It’s nothing the Baratie makes. It smells of unfamiliar lands.
He doesn’t mention it to Sanji, and there’s no trace of it the next day.
He wonders, though.
When Sanji is nineteen, Luffy arrives with a cannonball through the wall.
Zeff’s not too happy about that, but Sanji’s on red alert. He goes after Luffy with a vengeance.
Because that’s ZEFF, and if Sanji knows one thing it’s that he has to PROTECT ZEFF.
Luffy’s enamoured with him immediately. He wants Sanji. He wants this man who cooks and fights with his feet (Zeff taught him that, Sanji added it to the rules— no hands, be free, find friends).
Sanji’s dull eyes barely blink as he tells Luffy no, that he’s here for Zeff.
But then Luffy says the magic words.
He introduces Sanji (who stopped fighting at Zeff’s directive) to his crew and says, “this is my new friend Sanji! He’s going to be our cook!”
It’s confusing in a way few things are. Sanji lives in black and white— but Luffy says they’re *friends*. His mum told him to find friends. But he can’t leave Zeff, who is also a friend.
Sanji stumbles a little.
And then the green haired swordsman mocks him for it. The smallest flame of anger lights in his belly, a single momentary spark.
But that doesn’t matter because right now in this moment Sanji is processing having TWO friends.
That processing comes to a halt when Zeff yells at him to leave.
It’s simple again.
He follows orders.
He joins the Straw Hats.
He cooks.
He fights.
Luffy talks all the time about being free, and Sanji doesn’t get it but he figures Luffy will tell him when they manage to become “the most free”, something he has no metric of.
Also, Zoro is there.
Zoro is a complication. Sanji’s not sure if he’s friends with everyone or just with Luffy. He THINKS it’s everyone. He doesn’t like living in greys.
And Zoro likes to fight.
He tries to rile Sanji up, every time. Makes comments about his food or eyebrows.
Sometimes it… well it doesn’t *work* but it makes that little spark hit deep inside of him again, and for a split second the world is brighter. And then it’s gone.
Then Zoro pulls out his swords, which means they’re sparring, and Sanji is good at sparring.
They add more crew members. They go from island to island. Sanji protects his friends because that’s what he’s supposed to do, and he cooks, because he’s supposed to.
And then some time around Water 7 he starts to dream.
He’s never dreamed before.
He dreams of his mum and her warm smile. He dreams of his sister and her complicated expressions that he could never understand.
He dreams of Zoro and the grin that stretches over his face and the way his earrings dance.
He doesn’t get it. There’s no point to dreams.
What does it, what finally lights the spark inside of him, is Thriller Bark. It’s “nothing happened”. Zoro pushes him out of the way, stops him from doing the one thing he’s MADE to do, and then Sanji wakes up and realises what’s happened.
And a whirlwind alights inside of him.
The world has colors and depth it didn’t before, as he’s flooded with ANGER, that Zoro would do that, WORRY, that Zoro won’t make it, PAIN and HEARTBREAK for his mum, and a new sort of loyalty, deep and unending, for his crew.
He watches Zoro sleep as he processes.
And when Zoro finally wakes, when that worry abates a little, he YELLS at him. SCREAMS that he was a SELFISH ASSHOLE and HOW DARE HE and he’s IMPORTANT.
And through it all, Zoro stares at him, wide eyed and probably high on pain meds.
And then, when Sanji finally exhausts himself, Zoro grins. That same grin from Sanji’s dreams, and he says, “I knew you’d make it.”
Which is DUMB and makes Sanji EVEN MORE MAD because what does that fucking MEAN and he YELLS SOME MORE and by that time all the Straw Hats have gathered in shock outside the infirmary door.
“Welcome to the crew, Curls,” Zoro says and Sanji wants to KICK HIM but he’s on death’s door already and Sanji knows how strong he is.
So instead he collapses onto him and weeps, his emotions a confusing mess inside of him.
And eventually the door creaks open and Chopper slips in because he HAS to check Zoro’s vitals and then Luffy BOUNDS in and wraps his arms around Sanji and says “SANJI, MAKE ME MEAT” and Sanji SNAPS that he’s BUSY and Luffy LAUGHS and says “Okay but AFTER YOU’RE BUSY, MEAT.”
And later that night, after he’s made a MISTAKE in the kitchen because he got EMOTIONAL chopping vegetables, he sits in the infirmary again, forcing Zoro to drink broth. And he says, “I don’t know what happened. It’s like there’s too much of me inside me now.”
And Zoro says yeah. “That’s what living feels like,” he says.
“I don’t like it,” says Sanji.
“You ever disliked something before?”
“No.”
“Then congratulations.”
Then Zoro reaches out and grabs his hand. His grip is weak still, shaking.
He says, “this is the point. You have to find things to live for, now.”
And Sanji thinks. “I’m supposed to live for friends,” he says. “And freedom.”
“The you’re on the right ship,” Zoro says. “What else?”
And Sanji remembers a book his mum used to read. A long time ago.
“Have you heard of the All Blue?”
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— heatwave
I’m suffering through the heatwave over here, and Bakugou is the only thing that could make it better or worse.
Warnings: 18+, not proofread, Bakugou is your roommate, sweaty sex, dirty talk, spanking, creampie.
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.
Word Count: 3.8k.
“It’s too damn hot,” Bakugou growled as he lay the back of his head against the couch. Even the soft, worn fabric was uncomfortable against his back. Retaining more heat than necessary paired with his body temperature it had sweat pooling against his skin.
Life as an up and coming Pro-Hero had been rough. With long shifts, terrible hours and little pay he was stuck in this dingy, stuffy apartment. Waiting for the day he’d add an extra figure onto his paycheck to have enough to move out. Things like air conditioning were a lavish luxury that he couldn’t afford right now, so it meant suffering through the torridness with a small ice pack he’d grabbed from the freezer.
The only bonus was having a roommate like you.
Originally Bakugou had been adverse to living under the same roof as someone, unable to trust anyone living in close quarters with him. There was an entire cacophony of issues that could arise from picking the wrong person— from being kept up all night, the mess they could leave behind to having friends or hookups in his shared space.
But you had been a godsend, understanding of his unsocial work schedule and his house rules. You could even argue that you were a better roommate than he was, with his friends delighting in showing up unannounced and causing a mess in his apartment. Something that you were always so understanding of when you’d join them for movie nights or dinner.
You were a blessing. Or now that he thought about it, perhaps it was a curse. Now forced to watch you practically saunter around in the shortest short shorts known to man in a feeble attempt to try and deal with the extreme temperatures. Your top half not much better, the stringy vest top you wore— without a bra no less— exposed your midriff and the cute stiffened peaks of your nipples. Not that he was looking, and even if he was what did you expect him to do.
Rubbing sweat from his upper lip as he spreads his legs wide on the couch as you made your way into the kitchen, his crimson eyes roaming your figure as the shorts hugged the swell of your ass perfectly. Dipping in between the cheeks as he imagined pulling them apart to see what was hidden between them, the material dangerously close to revealing it to him anyway—
You were doing absolutely nothing to help quell the heat oozing through his body. In fact, Bakugou was certain you were making it worse. His cock jumping at the sight of you, pulsing beneath his shorts as his Adam’s apple bobbed. Praying that this sudden heatwave would cease and he could stop being tortured by the sight of you like this every damn day, it was bad enough when he’d catch peeks of you in a towel coming from the bathroom towards your bedroom, or forgotten panties left strewn around. But this? This was unbearable.
“I can’t deal with this heat,” The whiny tone to your voice had Bakugou silencing a growl deep in his chest, watching you hold the back of your hand to your forehead dramatically, “I wanna sit in the freezer.”
“Don’t you dare.” Bakugou knew from experience the heat alone would be enough to shut down the entire machine, and you both definitely didn’t have enough money to replace it if it did.
And that freezer was the only thing satiating the heat so far. Shoving his melting ice pack against his chest, the contents quickly changing form to liquid as he tried to make the most of it before it would have to go back inside the freezer.
“Let me feel,” You came around the couch to stand in front of him, his eyes set in a heavy glare as he tried to weigh up whether it was worth letting you feel how cold the pack was.
It was bad enough having you so scantily clad in such short proximity to him right now, certain he could now smell the saccharine of your perfume as you pulled the top of your vest down, exposing the swell of your breasts as you presented your sternum to him.
Bakugou pushes the pack to your chest and immediately regrets it when the sound you let out is downright sinful. You have to know what you’re doing to him, the way your lips curl into a delicious looking pout and your eyes roll to the back of your skull.
“Oh god, that feels so fucking good.” You moaned, eyes clenched shut to focus on the cool chill that slowly washed over your chest.
His cock jumps in his shorts as he tries to shift his hips to avoid you from noticing the now very evident bulge, the throb pounding through his veins as he feels a different kind of heat beginning to take over.
He should stop here, take his ice pack back and tell you to go and sit in front of your mini desk fan again. Get you out of the room and as far away as possible and save this for another day, a day when you’re both not delirious from the intense heat.
But his depraved thoughts have already consumed him, the thought of your plush body pressed against his while he slides his throbbing cock inside you now at the forefront of his mind as he presses the pack lower. Watching as you arch your back towards it, welcoming the cool chill as you lean forward to splay your sweaty palms against his thick thighs.
And whether he’s delirious from the heat, or it’s the desperate look in your eyes he doesn’t know. All he knows is he’s kissing you fiercely, the ice pack drops forgotten between your bodies in favour of grabbing your hips.
“Fuck,” You kiss him back, words swallowed by his chapped lips as you feel the bulge between his thighs press snug against your crotch.
Your hands reach up to card through messy blond spikes as your nails graze his damp scalp, your tongue swiped against his as he palms your ass. Calloused fingertips disappear beneath the flimsy fabric as he squeezes the fat of it, tugging you down against his hardness as he pulls more sultry sounds from your throat.
“It’s too hot for this, Katsuki.” You whine, breaking the kiss as you gasp for air in the humid room.
At this chance Bakugou’s lips venture lower, peppering kisses along your jawline towards your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your vest. Tugging the fabric down to reveal your round breasts, his tongue pokes out to wet his lips at the marvellous sight.
His nighttime fantasies can’t compare to the sight in front of him, crimson eyes shamelessly ogle your skin to commit the sight to memory as he leans forward.
“Shut up,” He rasps back gruffly while mouthing your breast.
You’re right, it’s entirely too hot for any kind of strenuous activity, especially when he’s sweating so much it already feels like he’s run a marathon. But the way your soft body feels pressed against his is too much to pass up. Especially when this is what he’s been dreaming about ever since he moved in with you, fisting his cock too. It’s too much to leave it to chance that he may get this opportunity again later. Bakugou’s always been a greedy man, and he wants to have you now.
“Fuck,” You cry out when his teeth graze your nipple, pushing your crotch against his with more urgency.
Certain you’ve leaked through the flimsy fabric, desire surges through you dense and fast. A stark contrast to your lethargic movements as you grind yourself down on his lap pathetically.
“Katsuki,” You whine.
His strong hands are doing all the work as he moves you how he pleases. Strong palms pick you up by the meat of your ass to drop you back down on his length. Grinding your puffy clit against his pelvis with each motion as he has you crying out in pleasure.
“Fuck, Katsu. S’too hot—”
You weren’t sure whether it was the humid air permeating the room or the way that Bakugou was looking at you with smouldering eyes that had your body aflame. Muggy, vapid air filling your lungs as clammy hands stroked along his bare torso. Mapping out a course of newly discovered territory as you let your thumbs brush against his pebbled nipples, his chest vibrating against your touch with more sultry groans.
“I know you are, sweetheart.” He hummed, his fingers brushing the crotch of your shorts, “Let me make you feel good.”
“Oh,” You gasped when you felt the calloused pads stroke your labia, involuntarily leaning forward to give him more space as Bakugou began to spread you apart for him. Fingers gliding through your messy folds, dragging your essence along your slit until he found your puffy clit.
The contact had you jolting forward, nails grazing his chest as he focused his attention on it. Circling it tentatively with the pad of his finger as you began to rock your hips back against him, uncaring about how debauched you looked as you began to seek your own pleasure.
“Yeah?” He rasped, and the gravelly husk did nothing but increase the desperation inside you, “You like that?”
“Fuck, please—“ You buried your head in the curve of his neck, your lips pressed against the slick skin as you tasted the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue.
“Please what, sweetheart,” He cooed.
“Please—“ You gasped when you felt his thumb press against your empty hole. He knew exactly what you wanted, he was toying with you.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Your fingers.” You were shameless, your hips grinding back against him as Bakugou finally took mercy on you and pushed his thumb into your sloppy entrance. The slightest penetration enough to drag a deep moan from your throat as he kept his focus against your clit, leaning his head back against the couch to try and see the blissful expression on your face as he worked you with precision.
“Got no damn idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” He husked against your ear, lips soft against the shell as you clenched around him in response, “Always walkin’ round in those fuckin’ short shorts got me wanting to bend you over every surface in this house.”
“Oh fuck,” You mewled, already feeling yourself teetering on the edge of your climax as he kept his pace constant against your clit, his thumb positioned to press against your spongy wall as his other hand tightened its grip on your ass. Spreading you open, as you found your bliss, “Katsuki.”
“That’s it, good girl.” He hummed, feeling your walls pulse around his digit as he kept his pace. Working you through your release as he pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your temple.
You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d wished the same, coming into the kitchen to see him still in full hero gear after work. Dirt and grime covering his body as his mask was pulled up over his forehead to show his blackened eyes, bending over to grab the carton of juice from the fridge as he held it up to his lips to chug it. Watching his Adam’s apple bob as the liquid flowed, giving you the perfect view of him as you tried to busy yourself to hide the fact you were blatantly staring.
Or the moments where he’d come out of the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips to shout at you for using the taps in the kitchen while he was showering. The cheap apartment had one flow of hot water and it shut off that luxury whenever it was used elsewhere. The cold water catching him off guard as he glared at you, water droplets drooling down his perfect skin and making him look more like an ancient god or deity than your roommate.
“So why didn’t you?” You asked when you’d come down from your high.
“Huh?” Bakugou’s brows furrowed in confusion.
“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt before.”
“I like livin’ with you,” He shrugged, “Didn’t wanna jeopardise that.”
“You wouldn’t have,” You smiled, pulling yourself back from his neck to meet his gaze, “I like you too.”
“That mean I can finally eat this pretty little pussy?” He groaned, shuffling his hips, “Been thinkin’ about it since the day I met you.”
“Later, please—” You pawed at the hard bulge between his thigh, his pre staining the fabric as you pressed against the tip.
“Fuck,” He grunted, shamelessly bringing his fingers to his lips to get a taste of you. His tongue sweeping against his digits to clean them of your slick, “Gonna take you over every damn surface in this house, princess.”
Your fingers curled into the hem of his shorts, Bakugou lifting his hips off the couch to help you drag them down just enough to free his heady cock— the sight of it better than you’d ever imagined in those nightly fantasies.
He was thick and long, bulging veins that forked along the length of him only made him seem that much more intimidating as his balls sat heavy at the base. Neatly trimmed blond hairs decorated his pelvis as they created a pretty trail along his abdomen, unable to resist running your hand along it as his stomach folded at the touch. A sharp hiss sucked sharp through his teeth as you wrapped your hand around him at the base, holding him steady so you could see the tip. The head a swollen pink as pre continued to bead at the slit, drooling down towards his frenulum as you moved to settle between his thighs. Wanting a taste of him yourself as you swiped your thumb over the leaky tip of his cock.
“Oi, I thought you said later,” He teased, rough hands steady on your hips to stop you from moving.
“Please,” You whined pathetically, “Wanna taste you.”
You brought your thumb to your lips as your tongue swiped at the surface, tasting him on your tongue as your lashes fluttered. Crimson eyes focused on your movements as his cock twitched in appreciation, tempted to let you do whatever you pleased. But he’d been waiting far too long for this moment, and there was no way he could wait any longer.
“You little minx,” He groaned as you sucked your thumb, “I promise later.” He groaned, tugging at your shorts, “Do you like these?”
“Yeah, they’re— what the fuck, Katsuki?”
You gasped when you heard the sharp sound of ripping fabric, “I said I liked them.”
“Sorry,” You could tell from the smug grin on his face that he was anything but as he positioned you above his leaky cock, “I gotta have you now.”
You held onto his shoulders as he wrapped a large fist around his cock, dragging the tip through your slick as he felt it catch against your tight entrance. His other hand on your hip slowly dropping you down onto his length as you felt the pleasurable ache of him stretching you open ebb through your pelvis.
“I got you, sweetheart,” He groaned, watching his cock slowly disappear inside you as he felt your warm walls wrap snugly around him, “Gonna take such good care of you.”
You felt hot, the heat radiating from your sex sweltering and yet you didn’t want to let go. The thick girth of his cock filled you perfectly as you felt him pressed against every ridge and groove of your cunt like he was made for you.
Your lips move together languidly, tasting the saltiness from his upper lip as you move together in tandem. Wet and sloppy while his tongue strokes yours, desperation evident by the way you try to deepen the kiss. As though you’re trying to melt into him, to feel him devour you whole.
“Oh, shit.” You choke back a cry when you feel the tip of his cock hit a spot deep inside you, certain you’ve never had something quite so big before.
You struggle to lift yourself up with your legs spread wide over his thick thighs as you grind yourself against his lap. Your clit catching against the trimmed hairs at his base as you roll your hips with desire, your chest pressed taut to his as you start a lazy pace. The scorching heat inside the apartment makes it difficult to breathe as you writhe in his lap, his warm breath fans against your skin almost feels cooler than the thick air clouding the room.
“Kats. It’s too hot.” You whine pathetically, your pace clumsy and sluggish as the desire inside you burns hot and heavy.
“You started this.” He retorts cockily with a smug smirk on his face.
“I did not.” You pout, “This is your fault.”
“Stop whinin’” He reaches back to bring his palm down on your ass in a rough smack, the sweatiness of his quirk has his skin tacking to you as it increases the sensation, clinging to your skin as you gasp in surprise. A painful pleasure courses through your veins as the skin prickles beneath his touch, your pliant walls clamping down around his girth in retaliation.
Without hesitating he reaches his large palms back to cup a cheek in each hand, lifting you up languidly as he marvels the glossy sheen your slick leaves on his cock.
“You just sit there and look pretty, let me do the work.” He spread is thighs wider, giving himself more air as he shifted your weight. Picking you up and dropping you down on his length as he listened to the pretty sounds that spilled from you like a siren, drawing him in and capturing his heart as you pulsed around him.
“Why couldn’t you have got an ice quirk?”
Clammy hands paw at his shoulders as Bakugou repeats the motion, skin tacking to skin as he bounces you on his cock. The kinetic energy builds heat swiftly and harsh as you feel the stickiness against your skin. Your wetness seeps out against his pelvis and matts the hair at his base, catching your clit with each drop of your hips.
“Shut the fuck up,” He scoffed, “You won’t be sayin’ that come winter.”
The thought of having his warm body to warm you during those cold winter months, still being with him then— had you clenching around him.
“Oh yeah? You like the sound of that?” He grinned, “Can feel this pussy clenchin’ around me.”
“Fuck, Katsuki.” The heat was becoming unbearable, radiating from your core as it burned molten lava. The coil inside you dangerously close to snapping as you danced on the crux of your release, gasping for air as he changed tact. Holding your hips tight under sweaty palms as he planted his feet flat on the ground, pistoning his hips up into your pliant sex, “There— oh, god. Right there—”
“That’s it,” He rasped, watching your tits bounce with each rapid thrust, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”
“‘m gonna cum,” You choked out between moans, feeling the curved tip of his cock drag against the spongy spot inside you with each thrust, “Oh shit—”
“Cum for me,” He growled, “Cum all over my cock.”
The tips of Bakugou’s thumbs pressed against your pelvis, tightening his grip as it only increased the pressure. Sweat trickling down your temples as he sent you vaulting over the edge into euphoria.
“Good girl,” He grunted, feeling your walls clamp down around his cock as you willed him to come with you, trying to milk him of his seed.
The pleasure was unlike anything you’d felt before, mind-numbingly intense as you cried out a jumbled mess of his name. Your nails digging crescent moons into his skin as he hissed beneath you, shamelessly searching for his own end as the heat radiated from your body. Sliding against each other from the sweat that now trickled down your skin, leaving a glossy sheen against you both as he used you for his own pleasure.
“I’m gonna cum,” Bakugou grunted, moving to lift you off his cock before you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, unbothered about the stifling heat in the room as you kept him tight against you.
“Cum inside me, Katsuki.” You gasped a he choked back a grunt, your words all it took to meet his own end.
His guttural moans are sinful, erotic as you cling to him with fervour. Committing the sensation to memory as though it’s the last time you’ll have him like this, as if the heat has him in this delirious state. And maybe it does—
You never thought Bakugou could look so pretty like this, completely vulnerable as he exposes his most intimate self to you. Thick, white spurts of cum spurt from his tip as he empties his balls inside you.
“Fuck, baby.” He breathes hot and heavy as you feel his chest rise and fall against yours.
Bodies slumped together on the couch as you feel the dampness of skin against skin, your vest that now sits useless around your waist is soaked and warm as the fabric clings to your body.
“I’m so sticky,” You whine childishly, making no attempt to move as Bakugou’s fingers trace absent-minded patterns along your exposed back.
“How the fuck dya think I feel?” He rasps, “My ass is stuck to the couch.”
“Eww,” You tease, running your nose along his collarbone as you take in the musky scent of him, “We’ll have to get another couch.”
He catches you by surprise as he presses the forgotten ice pack to the back of your neck, although it’s mostly melted it’s a stark contrast to your sweltering body as you flinch in surprise. Your cunt clenches around him at the sensation as Bakugou grunts from the attention.
“Oh shit, don’t do that sweetheart—“ He hisses, wrapping an arm around your back to hold you tight against him, “You’ll make me hard again.”
Something that you’re not sure you’d mind, even though your body is screaming out for a different kind of relief now. Desperate to cool your temperature down as you scrunch your nose in irritation.
“I feel so gross.” You complain as he gives your ass another playful spank as you barely move from the impact, your bodies stuck together with a mixture of heat and sweat.
“Got no one to blame but yourself, princess,” He groans, “I was just mindin’ my business until you came over in those little shorts.”
“You weren’t complaining when you were balls deep.” You moved your head back to glare at him.
“My balls feel like they’re on fire now,” He scoffs, leaning forward to peck your pouty lips, “Cold shower?” He asks, although he’s already decided he’s showering with you— he’s taking every moment he can with you now.
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Kitchen Scales: Complete Buying Guide
Points to Consider while Buying a Kitchen Scale
Kitchen scales are used to weigh ingredients accurately so you won't have to guess what you're weighing. You can use them for cooking or baking ingredients to accurately measure the amount of food you need as per dietary requirements. Several European recipes call for the use of weighted ingredients. Kitchen scales are useful for every cook, no matter where they live.
Here are six tips that will make your task of finding the best kitchen scale according to your requirements much easier.
Tip 1: Digital vs. Analog
Scales for the kitchen come in two varieties. The weight is shown by a rotating pin on an analog scale. The inside spring of the scale acts as the resistance. The weight is displayed digitally on a digital readout on electronic or digital scales. Some models can also store data, which is an added capability. The maximum modern kitchen scales are digital. Usually, digital readouts display decimal values accurate to tenths of a unit.
Tip 2: Sensitivity and Capacity
When choosing a scale for the kitchen, you should consider which foods you will most likely weigh. For weighing light items such as herbs, spices, and nuts, especially sensitive scales are ideal. There are also scales that can handle up to 25 pounds of weight. Weights such as whole poultry and larger cuts of meat are appropriate for the latter scales.
Tip 3: Advanced Digital Features
If you have certain goals in mind, digital scales offer a wide range of features. In addition to switching between different units of measurement on the machine, it can handle pounds, ounces, grams, and kilograms. One helpful feature of a scale is its tare function, which shows only the weight of the contents when the container is neutralized. Additionally, some models come with baker's timers and clocks.
You can also select a scale that will report the calories in different foods. Models like these let you enter your own food items and recipes, and some come with calorie-tracking memory features.
Tip 4: Container and Platform
The size of platforms varies. When you're shopping for a scale, it is often best to get one with a large platform so that you can weigh a wide variety of foods. In addition to having a scale with a container that holds the food for weighing, you should also choose one with a container that holds the wet or dry ingredients. The container should be removable for easy cleaning. A measuring bowl attachment is included with some models, which facilitates the measurement of ingredients.
Tip 5: Clear Display
There are different types of digital displays. Some models have small displays that are hard to read, so make sure you test each model and choose one with a large display. Make sure the display doesn't get obscured by the items you are weighing when you cover the scale. Pull-out displays are available on some scales to facilitate reading.
Tip 6: Design and Ease of Storage
Choosing a scale that fits well and adds to the look of your kitchen is extremely important if you store it on your counter. Stainless steel is available in many styles, which will give your kitchen a sleek look. You can now choose a model that matches your dietary needs and improves your cooking experience after comparing all the differences between kitchen scales.
With the experience of 20+ years, EQUAL provides the best quality digital kitchen scales that fits your requirement and budget. Equal also provides personal and retail weighing scales.
#kitchen scales#kitchen scale#kitchen#kitchens#kitchen weighing machine#food lover#food photography#healthy food#home cooking#food#cooking#food pics#food diary#food addict#home made#food styling#digital scale#retail scale
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warehouse industrial floor weighing scales in Kampala
INDUSTRIAL FLOOR & HEAVY - DUTY SCALES SUPPLIERS
Accurate Weighing Scales’ electronic heavy-duty Scales are Robust and dependable industrial and commercial floor scales for warehouses, designed to be used in tough industrial environments where there is constant weighing of heavy bags of grains, food produce etc.
Industrial floor scales are built to last under heavy use. Well known for their dependability, durability, and accuracy, they with capacities ranging from 1ton to 5tons they are floor scales purposely for your weighing needs.
Industrial platform scales, also known as industrial floor scales, are large scales used for bulk weighing, logistics, and other manufacturing processes. compatible with a range of indicators, software, and accessories for a complete weighing and data management solution.
1ton Weighing capacity electronic industrial floor scales
The weighing machine’s weight capacity is the determining factor and key feature that a purchaser looks for. These weighing devices come in a variety of weight capacities, ranging from micro grams to several metric tonnes.
The lion’s share of weight machines are selected depending on industry and accuracy standards. Weighing balances with measuring ranges ranging from micro grams to hundreds of kilograms are preferred.
Conclusion:
With these aspects on your checklist, you must leave behind all your apprehensions of online purchase of a weighing scale. Buying from a renowned and trusted floor scale manufacturer like Accurate Weighing Scales Ltd gives you the privilege of buying only quality and accurate scales and that too at affordable prices.
Accurate Weighing Scales Ltd offers a range of different types of scales that you can buy from. Just check out their website and make your purchase at your earliest.
Thank you for allowing Accurate Weighing Scales (U) Ltd the privilege to serve you in advance.
For inquiries on deliveries contact us
Office +256 705 577 823, +256 775 259 917
Address: Wandegeya KCCA Market South Wing, 2nd Floor Room SSF 036
Email: [email protected]
#Crane (hanging) scales#Whole sale scales#Baby scales#Mini palm scales#Industrial platforms#assorted weighing brands including Avery#Salter#Health ( height and weight ) scales#Precision scales Analytical/Laboratory scales#Moisture meters#Temperature gauges#Pallet trolleys#kitchen scales#Animal scales#Bag closers-stitching machine#Plastic bag sealers#Plastic foot sealers#Batch sealers#Table top scales#Counter scales#Barcode readers/printer#Waterproof scales#Axle weigh bridge#Mini and full Weigh bridges among others. Baby scales#bathroom scales
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PDA- B. Barnes x Reader
A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic from like 5 years ago, if you want to check out the original here to see how much has changed. Feel free to leave requests! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IN COMMENTS OR ASKS PLS i need to know if i’m still writing like i’m 14 😭
Request: i uh see youre lacking bucky requests sooo… bucky x reader where he’s not one for pda, usually alone he is, but one day during breakfast he just pulls the reader onto his lap and buries his face in reader’s neck and everyone is spooked, and throughout the day hes all touchy and stuff only bc he thought sam was flirting with the reader? lmao hope that made sense, thank you!
Word Count: 1.4K
Soft sun rays glimmer through the windows as your eyes slowly flutter open. Reveling in the warmth your bed provided, you stretched your arms out in front of you and wiggled backwards. Your brow furrowed as you realized there was a lack of contact like there usually is. Turning your head to the side, you realize bucky isn't snuggled up in his usual spot next to you, and a small frown takes over your face. You two had had a long night, and you could feel the sleep weighing on your eyelids already, and you wanted nothing more than to snuggle back up and drift off again. With a huge huff, you dramatically threw the covers off of your body, and just as quickly, drew back with a slight whimper, feeling the cold air hit your legs. Staring down at your scantily clad body, you watched the goosebumps cover your skin. Making a mental note to turn up the heating in your room, you threw on the clothes that lay hastily discarded at the end of your bed. Coffee Coffee Coffee. Your eyes closed dreamily as the thought of that beautiful amber liquid trickling down your throat. You rushed off the bed, throwing a small glance in the mirror before leaving. God your bedhead was serious.
Soft sounds filled the empty hallway as your feet padded against the ground. The impossibly long walk to the kitchen stretched on as you wrapped your arms around yourself in a futile attempt to keep warm. The kitchen was in sight, and the sound of idle chatter filled your ears. As quick as possible you rushed over to the coffee machine, throwing a welcoming smile at Bucky on your way in.
“Damn Momma, don't you look mighty fine in the morning.” Sams voice was filled with sarcasm, and you threw him a disgraceful look as you sneered at him.
“Ha. Ha.” You replied, deadpan. Lifting your coffee cup to your lips, you took a long, exaggeratedly loud sip, and let out an even more exaggerated sigh of content afterward. “Do you know how FREEZING it is in this compound!” You said it to no one in particular, but your love to complain had to make an appearance at least once a day.
“Aww is the little lady cold? Here you go.” By the time you had looked up, Sam had already shrugged off his housecoat and was holding it up in your direction. You muttered a quick ‘thank you’ and slipped it on, basking in the warmth it provided, a shelter from the chilly air swirling through the compound.
You moved to the fridge to grab some cereal and milk, heading over to the island where Bucky was sitting to assemble your favorite bowl of cereal. As you lay down the tools for your breakfast, you were suddenly pulled into Bucky's lap, with him quickly burying his head into the crook of your neck. Frowning, you looked down at Bucky, surprised at the unusual display of PDA. You glanced at Sam and pulled a questioning face, but he responded with a simple shrug, indicating he had no idea what was going on with Buck.
“Are you alright?” You whispered, running your hands through his hair. He simply nodded his head quickly as his hair tickled your neck.
“Alright lovebirds i hate to break it up but bleurgh, I'm tryna’ keep my breakfast down here.” Sam joked, waving his hands around. You tiled your head back in laughter as you moved to get up from Bucky's lap. As you sat beside him, you made sure your knees were touching, as he kept his hand on your thigh. Maybe he had a nightmare last night? Whatever it was, you'd hope he would tell you about it later.
-
After a grueling few hours of training, and a beautiful shower to sooth your sore muscles, you'd thrown on some comfortable clothes, and made your way to the living room to enjoy your down time. In the living room you found the 3 musketeers huddled on the couch, the lights from the movie illuminating the room. You plopped down on the arm of the chair. As you draped your legs over Bucky's thighs, he lay his hand on your lower leg.
“What are we watching, boys?” Looking toward the tv, it seemed to be an old-timey movie, evident by the black and white coloring.
“Uh, its called The Philadelphia story, from the 1950’s” Steve said, not taking his eyes off the tv. Must be a good show.
“Yah, old, boring, just like these two!” Sam jutted his thumbs out to point at the two boys next to him. You threw your head back in laughter at the joke that never got old. Just as your laughter died down, you found Bucky's large hand slid around your waist and pulled you to sit on his lap. His hand found your jawline as he carefully wrapped you into a kiss. Your brows furrowed slightly but you relaxed into the kiss. You could definitely get used to this side of Bucky. Although you respected his need for privacy, going all day without as much as a kiss from him did grate on you some days. You wonder what prompted him to act this way today.
He pulled away and stared at the tv as nothing happened. You glanced over his shoulder and looked at Sam, who was pulling an incredulous face, having never seen his best friend act this way before. You just shook your head and gave a soft shrug, turning back to the TV.
-
As the hours drew on, your interest in the movies slowly dwindles as the tiredness grew heavy on your eyelids. Once you and Bucky had retired to the comfort of your room, and all your nightly rituals had been performed, you found yourself staring at Bucky's beautiful eyes as you lay beside him. Your hand found his cheek and caressed it slowly as you both winded down. Your mind ran through today's events, and you decided to broach the subject.
“Buck?” You whispered, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. He just muttered a low ‘hmm?’ whilst nuzzling further into your hand with closed eyes. You bit your lip before speaking softly. “What was today about?” His eyes shot open, but suspiciously managed to avoid eye contact with you, opting to stare at the small space in between you.
“Don't know what you mean” He mumbled into your palm. But by the look on his face, he definitely knew what you meant. Your palm moved to tilt his chin up so he had no choice but to look you in the eyes.
“Buck.” You shot him a pointed look that you knew would have him crumbling instantly.
“Sam was flirting with you” He whined, covering his face with his hands. His index and middle finger slipped open, revealing one of his eyes. “And I was jealous”
You pulled his hands away from his face and held them under your chin. “Buck, Sam wasn't flirting with me, he was just being Sam, annoying as always.” A small giggle fell from your lips that made Bucky's pouty lips break into a small smile.
“He was still flirting” He pouted again, staring up at you with those huge eyes that you couldn't resist. You put a fragile kiss on his forehead.
“Listen, Sams your best friend, he wouldn't do that to you, and neither would I, okay” You kissed the back of each one of his hands.
He gave a small nod, then moved his head to lay on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your back.
“I love you Buck.” A small smile broke out on your face as you watched him bury his head in your stomach like a cat.
“I love you too” Came a muffled voice, vibrating on your stomach, making a giggle erupt from your throat, as you stroked his hair.
#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky#marvel#sebastian stan#bucky barnes x reader#the winter soldier#the winter soldier x reader#sebastian stan x reader
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New dial Hanging weighing Baby scale in Kampala Uganda
25KG Spring Hanging Dial Baby Scales Mechanical dial Baby medical Weighing Scales with pants. robust steel weighing mechanism. Made for simple but professional weighing of babies outside of medical Baby Scales, baby weighing scale, Multifunctional baby scale with removable tray, baby scales digital with Tare
order now for Baby Scale, Pet Scale, Smart Weigh Baby Scale, Weighs up to 20kg/44 lbs, Accurate Digital Scale for Infants, Toddlers, and Babies,
Thank you for allowing Accurate Weighing Scales (U) Ltd the privilege to serve you in advance. For inquiries on deliveries contact us
Office +256 (0) 705 577 823, +256 (0) 775 259 917
Address: Wandegeya KCCA Market South Wing, 2nd Floor Room SSF 036
Email: [email protected]
#Crane (hanging) scales#Whole sale scales#Baby scales#Mini palm scales#Industrial platforms#assorted weighing brands including Avery#Salter#Health ( height and weight ) scales#Precision scales Analytical/Laboratory scales#Moisture meters#Temperature gauges#Pallet trolleys#kitchen scales#Animal scales#Bag closers-stitching machine#Plastic bag sealers#Plastic foot sealers#Batch sealers#Table top scales#Counter scales#Barcode readers/printer#Waterproof scales#Axle weigh bridge#Mini and full Weigh bridges among others.
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Find Quality Weight Machines for Sale at Symphony Weighing
Visit : www.symphonyweight.com
#weighingscale#weighing machine#weight loss#business#industrial machinery#industrial manufacturing#30 kg scale#vajan kata#electronic scale#kitchen scales
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