#Best Pull Down Kitchen Faucet

[homesupplies4less]

Best Kitchen Faucets 2025 | Best Pull Down Kitchen Faucet – Home Supplies 4 Less

Explore the best kitchen faucets 2025, including top-rated pull down kitchen faucets. Shop stylish, functional, and affordable options at Home Supplies 4 Less.

[aquanutech]

The 4-in-1 kitchen faucet system transforms your kitchen into a healthier, more efficient space by providing instant hot water, filtered drinking water, and everyday faucet use from a single attractive fixture.  It's ideal for busy families looking to cook, clean, and hydrate in a more efficient, safe, and environmentally friendly manner.  Stay road-ready with filtered water and immediate hot convenience—no mess, no compromise.  The 4N1 Aqua System transforms RV life by providing instant hot water, cool filtered drinking water, and everyday faucet use from a single streamlined, space-saving fixture.  There's no need for kettles, bottled water, or countertop clutter—only pure convenience on the go.

[mostly-imagines]

The Morning After The Venus Drug

You wake to an ache that runs straight through your muscles and into your bones. Your eyelids feel weighted as you try to blink yourself to consciousness, the fabric of the pillowcase an unexpectedly tough barrier.

You lay on your stomach, bed sheets pooling around your waist. You recognize the weight of Jason’s arm over you before you see him, hair tousled and face scrunched up against your same pillow.

His cheeks are flushed pink and he’s still perspired, but he looks peaceful. You press the back of your hand to his forehead, frowning at the heat you’re met with.

You try your hardest to unwrap his arm from around your torso without waking him, an action that requires far more energy than you were hoping to capitulate to. But that movement turns out to be nothing compared to the ache felt when you try to move your legs.

A slight shift has you immediately stilling, the soreness between your legs proving to be more severe than anticipated. You stifle a groan, slowly pushing yourself to sit up. You have to take a moment to rest your muscles as your legs hang limp over the side of the bed.

Your legs are shaky and unstable as you try to stand and you nearly fall back onto the bed. You need a few practice steps before you’re able to pick up any actual pace towards the door.

You sit on the side of the tub while you clean yourself up, the skin of your thighs almost too tender to bear the ruggedness of the rag. You can’t be sure of how many rounds you went last night, but if you’re in this kind of shape, he must be worse off.

On your way to toss the used cloth in favor of a new one, a glance in the mirror has you double-taking. The hickies scattered across your neck and collarbone are blossoming dark and to be expected. However, the sight of bruises littered across your waist and hips draw some extra attention. They don’t hurt, really, the marks mostly bring forth warm feelings.

But you know that Jason won’t feel the same upon discovering them, so you figure it's best to cover them up for now.

You quietly shuffle through the bedroom drawers and pull out one of his gray shirts that’s even a little big on him. It drowns you out, more than enough to cover your rembrandts from last night.

The floorboards creak as you make your way to the kitchen, steps stiff and awkward. The warm orange light flowing in from the living room curtains is soothing, if not far too bright.

With a restrained pull, you pop the fridge open, careful not to let the unseal make too much noise. You collect a bottle of water and dampen the extra rag with cool water from the faucet.

You tiptoe back to the bedroom, supplies in hand. The mattress springs squeak slightly as your weight returns to them.

One hand comes to rest on Jason’s back as water from the washcloth drips down your other arm. “Hey,” you trace nonsense patterns into his skin, hoping the sensation will be enough to rouse him like it usually is.

But he doesn’t so much as stir, still breathing deeply. “Jay?” you shake him lightly, “You gotta wake up, baby.”

His eyes squeeze shut harder and a groan reverberates from deep in his throat. “Fuck…”

“Hey pretty boy,” you murmur, brushing his hair back. His face burrows further into the pillow as his hand comes up to blindly search for your thigh, kneading your skin once he finds you. “How you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a train,” he croaks, turning his head hesitantly into the light to look at you. He squints as he takes in the sight of you, slowly shifting onto his back. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head tenderly, “Just sore.” You hold the water out to him, “Here.”

He looks at the water, then back to you. You huff, “Just drink it. I’ll have some after.”

He perches himself up on his elbow, taking the bottle from your hand with a pout. He chugs down three gulps before pushing the drink back in your hands expectantly. You feel his eyes on you as you take your own sips, only moving to sit up completely when he’s satisfied with your hydration.

He grunts as he adjusts his muscles to the new position, holding a hand out. “Lemme see you.”

“I’m alright,” you tell him, trying to mitigate his worry before it begins.

But his face only sterns, voice becoming serious. “Then let me see you.”

You’re ready to argue more to save him from the sure-to-come guilt, but he tugs your shirt up anyway, blinking a few times to get a clearer look at your skin.

Delicate hands come to hold you by the sides of your ribs, nudging you this way and that to examine the bruises littered across your skin. “Oh fuck, baby..”

He leans in close, running featherlight touches over the marks. “I don’t…” his chest drops, “I don’t remember doing that.”

You nod in understanding, taking his hands in yours and pulling them away from your body. “They don’t hurt. I like seeing them.”

He peers up at you skeptically and you nod again. “I like them. A lot. I like anything you give me.”

He closes his eyes and drops his head, “I should give you nicer things. Less painful.”

You gently push his face up to look at yours, keeping hold of his cheeks. “You do give me nice things,” you tell him before pressing a slow kiss to his lips. You rest your forehead against his, “But I like the rougher things too. Especially when I get them while you’re feeling good.”

His hands cover yours, moving them back down and turning them so he can hold them properly. “You’re okay?”

“I’m better than okay. Can guarantee I’m feeling better than you are anyways.” You pull back, scanning over his flushed face. You pick up the rag from your now considerably wet thigh, dabbing his forehead with it. “You look overheated.”

He relaxes a bit against the coolness, “Yeah, the effects of the toxin take a little while to wear all the way off. It’s not so bad anymore though.”

You nudge him to lay back down, draping the cloth over his head. He looks over you fondly as you lay a light kiss on his collarbone before tucking yourself into his side with closed eyes.

[sweetstrawberryys]

“Don’t Cry, Princess”

Summary: Price is very sensitive to your tears. When you start to get emotional because of......your pregnancy, you start leaking like a faucet at the most random times for anything. He can't take it when he sees you cry, it breaks his heart.....that is until he learns the reason for your tears.

Rating: Pure Fluff. Pregnancy mention, crying (happy tears), protective!Price, ultra-soft vibes, a little banter, a lotta love.

Masterlist

---

The kettle whistles, and you’re already crying.

Not sobbing—just a few harmless tears that slid down your cheeks while you were stirring honey into John’s tea. They sneak past your lashes like uninvited guests, and by the time he steps into the kitchen, shirt half-buttoned and beard still damp from the shower, your eyes are shining.

He stops cold.

"Love," he says slowly, voice already dipping into that low, serious register he uses when someone's hurt. “What happened?”

You blink fast and wave a hand. “Nothing! Nothing, I swear—I’m fine, babe.”

He crosses the room in two strides. “No, no. Please—don’t cry, Princess. Tell me who I have to kill.”

His hand cups your cheek gently, calloused thumb wiping away one stray tear with the panic of a man trying to diffuse a bomb he wasn’t trained for.

“They’re happy tears,” you say with a wet laugh.

He doesn’t buy it. Not even a little. “Still don’t like ‘em.”

You melt into his chest as he pulls you close, one massive palm sliding to the small of your back like he needs to physically protect you from your own emotions.

“I’m just feeling… everything all at once,” you admit, muffling the words against the soft cotton of his shirt. “You were humming in the shower. Making tea. The sun’s out. It all just… it hit me. We’re okay. We’re good.”

His brow furrows. He kisses your hairline. “That’s why you’re cryin’? Because we’re happy?”

“Mhm.” You look up at him with teary lashes. “Stupid, right?”

“Never.” He wipes another tear. “But I wish you wouldn’t leak about it.”

“Leak?? John!” You snort mid-sob.

He smirks a little, relieved at the sound. “What? You’re leakin’, love. Like a busted faucet.”

“God, you’re such a man,” you sniff, swatting at him half-heartedly.

“A man who doesn’t like seein’ his girl cry, happy or not,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Breaks my fuckin’ heart.”

You look up at him, suddenly overwhelmed again. He’s always like this—soft and solid and a bit gruff around the edges, like he’s terrified of breaking you but still cradles you like fine china. It’s too much. He’s too good. You’re bursting at the seams with love.

Another tear slides down your cheek.

“Oh, come on,” he groans gently. “Again?”

You giggle through it. “I swear, babe, there’s a reason. I’m not just being dramatic.”

He squints. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“…Did someone say somethin’? Is this about what Soap said the other night? Because I told him his jokes don’t land—”

“No! No, baby,” you interrupt, reaching for both of his hands. “This is all me.”

He looks down at you, gaze warm and curious, a little concerned. “Then tell me what’s going on, sweetheart. You’re scarin’ me.”

You swallow thickly.

This is it.

You smile, small and shaky and so full of joy it shines like sunlight behind your eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

He just blinks at you.

And then, after a breathless beat, everything about him shifts. His hands tighten slightly in yours, eyes wide, jaw slack. The kind of stunned stillness that feels like gravity letting go.

“You’re—” His voice cracks. “You’re sure?”

You nod. “Just found out yesterday. I was waiting for the right moment, but I guess my hormones got the best of me…”

John still doesn’t speak. He just stares, like you’ve become the whole world in front of him and he doesn’t know where to start looking.

Then he pulls you in and holds you like you’re glass and gold all at once. His lips press against your temple, his voice a reverent whisper: “Fuck, Princess. We’re havin’ a baby.”

You nod into his chest, tears returning—but this time, he doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t protest. Just kisses every single drop away, one by one, until your cheeks are dry and his own eyes are suspiciously shiny.

“You okay?” you whisper.

He snorts, low and emotional. “You askin’ me if I’m okay? Christ. M’shakin’, love.”

“You’re not gonna faint, are you?”

“I’m a bloody captain. I don’t faint.”

“But you are crying.”

“…Shut up.”

You grin.

He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m gonna be a dad.”

“You already are,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your belly. “Even now.”

He puts his hand over yours instantly, reverently. There’s no bump yet. Nothing to feel. But he cups it like something precious is already there.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he says suddenly, fiercely. “Both of you. Don’t care what it takes. You’ll never want for anything, Princess. I swear it.”

“I know.” You kiss him. “That’s why I cried, you know. Because I feel so… safe. So loved.”

His face softens. “I’d give you the fuckin’ world if I could.”

“You already did.”

He lets out a shaky breath and holds you tighter, grounding himself in your warmth, your love, the tiny seed of new life between you.

“You’d better get used to the tears, though,” you tease. “They’re not goin’ away anytime soon.”

“Christ.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Guess I’d better stock up on tissues, huh?”

“And chocolate. And pickles. And probably a foot massager…”

“Done,” he promises. “All of it. Anything you want.”

You smile, and this time, when your eyes glisten again—John just laughs.

“Alright, fine. Leak all you want,” he says, kissing the corner of your eye. “But only ‘cause I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

[littlelovelunette]

can you write something about being sevikas (non official) girl and coming really EXHAUSTED from work late at night and having her to care about reader? like, yk, clothes off, massage, put to sleep. just fluff no smut

More Than Just Roomies

Sevika, your very messy and grumpy roommate, has had a few rounds of sex with you. So what? That didn't make you a couple.

As if it was just the sex, it was every other thing too. Your friends mistake you and her for being together, and generally tease you a lot about it too.

You know Sevika is not the type to settle down and whatever right now, she has sex with multiple other girls too. Atleast she used to.

You got home after a long exhausting day at work, kicking your shoes off and stumbling inside the house like a freshly infected zombie.

Sevika heard your uneven footsteps and walked out of the room, looking you dead in the eye and for a while she didn't say anything.

"Why are you still awake?" You asked her, taking your coat off and throwing it on the coat hanger, it hung perfectly.

"Why do you look like that?" Sevika asked, crossing her arms and leaning sideways into the doorframe.

"I just had a borderline painful shift at work, that's why," you replied with your lips pressed in a thin line. The headache building was almost excruciating.

"I'm awake because I was worried you hadn't returned, and thought maybe I'd have to pick any other girl off the shelter," Sevika joked.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you, too."

Sevika watched as you walked to your room, almost falling as you did. "Careful, bunny," she mumbled and followed you to your room.

"Just been a hectic day," you said, slipping off your purse on the vanity and starting to undo your shirt buttons.

"I can tell," Sevika helped you undress, "You look sleep deprived for atleast seventy two hours."

"I am," you said, sitting at the edge of the bed, "Had to pull a few all nighters to finish up on a case study."

"Really?" Sevika pulled you up off the bed using your arms as an anchor, guiding you to the bathroom, "Couldn't have guessed," she said sarcastically.

You plopped into the tub, naked, as Sevika put the essentials on the rack, hanging a fuzzy towel at the corner of the bathroom.

Sevika turned the faucet on, fixing the perfect temperature for you which wasn't too hot or too cold. You hummed out in comfort, leaning your head back as you enjoyed the bath.

"Don't soak for too long, I'm gonna go get you something to eat," Sevika got up and walked to the bathroom door, exiting.

For a while you stayed there before slowly getting up, curiousity getting the best of you and perhaps the aching of your hungry tummy also contributed to your movements.

You wrapped the towel around your torso and slowly stepped out of the bathroom, shivering as the cold air hit your legs.

You dressed up in only a big T-shirt, laziness getting the best of you. Your hair was in a messy loose bun, feet padding down the stairs as you walked to the kitchen.

Sevika gave you a bowl full of strawberries coated in chocolate, you grinned at the sight, "Thanks," you started eating standing there making Sevika roll her eyes.

"Geez, you're starved," she mumbled guiding you back to your room, "Lay back," Sevika said, taking out your numerous moisturising products.

"Mmm," you laid back with your back against the bedframe and extended your legs for Sevika to moisturise while you continued eating your strawberries, sucking the chocolate off your fingertips.

You finished eating and were already drifting off to sleep because of how good Sevika's big hands felt on your legs, massaging the cream into the skin.

You had no idea when you fell asleep, but you could've sworn you felt Sevika kiss a goodnight's kiss onto your forehead before the lights were turned off, her soft deep voice mumbling, "Goodnight, menace."

[gurugirl]

Use Me Up | boyfriend's best friend!h

Originally posted on Patreon!

Summary: Harry's your boyfriend's best friend and he's very hard to resist.

Word Count: 7,072

Warning: smut, cheating, lying, alcohol consumption

| Main Masterlist | Send me an ask! |

Look at him. Dark curls, soft green eyes, broad shoulders. All fit and tattooed with that dirty smirk aimed in your direction. It’d been like that all night. When no one was looking his eyes were on you.

Harry Styles. The object of desire for so many women. But the problem for you was that he was your boyfriend’s best friend. You should have been off-limits. He shouldn’t have even been taking part in your daydreams.

You rolled your eyes at him as Colin knocked his beer over.

Everyone had a couple too many drinks at that point. Your boyfriend, the worst off.

“Here,” you leaned down and righted the spilled can to halt the beer from pouring out.

Colin fell back into the couch and laughed as you got up to take the nearly empty can to the trash.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!”

“I actually think it’s time for a little water,” you countered.

Walking into the kitchen you took a breath and grabbed two cups for water. You needed some as well. You’d been hitting the strawberry lime seltzers kind of hard since you arrived at Ivy’s and you were feeling the alcohol.

“Need help?”

You turned to look over your shoulder as you shut off the faucet.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle this,” you laughed as you raised your hands, a cup of water in each.

Harry reached into the fridge to grab himself another beer, “All right. Was just being nice. You done drinking for the night?”

“Probably. Colin is for sure done. Gonna have to carry him home I think.”

“I’ll help you. I can tell he’s well past his limit. There’s no way you’re going to have an easy go of it with him. He’s like Gumby when he gets drunk.”

You laughed and Harry licked his lips as he watched you. You hated (but you loved it) when he licked his lips while he was looking at you. It elicited memories of the not-so-long-ago past.

. .

You arrived at Colin’s a little early but you knew Harry’d be there and he’d let you in until Colin showed up.

He got you a soda from the fridge and you both went into the living room where he showed you their new record player.

“It’s got great sound and check this out,” he pulled out an album and placed it over the turntable showing you how the tone arm lowered automatically and cycled the vinyl around to the perfect spot to begin at the first song.

“Oh, that’s cool!” You watched as he clicked a button and sound started playing through the speakers. It was an old popular 70s rock song, “The sound quality really is good.”

He snapped his fingers and began to move his hips as he grinned at you so you placed your soda down and mimicked him, swaying and laughing as you snapped your fingers.

Behind Harry’s grin, you saw something else. The way he licked his lips, his eyes traveled over your curves, and he slunk in closer as he moved to the music- it held some kind of intensity that you weren’t sure how to work out. One thing was for sure; Harry was a flirt and your boyfriend was not home.

“You’re cute,” Harry said it so flippantly as he jutted his chin up and kept his eyes on yours.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “Yeah right…”

But he did this thing that had you feeling a slurry of scorching lava under your fingertips as he bit into his bottom lip with his eyelids drooped gently, pupils winding over your hips while you continued to move and he pulled your hand into his, redirecting your flow until you were practically dancing in his arms.

“You know you’re cute. What are you doing dating Colin anyway?”

His hand wound over your hip as he kept his eyes on yours.

“I…” you laughed and shook your head. You weren’t sure what he was doing but it had you reeling. His heavy presence and deep voice, the music lulling you into surrender, his pretty bright eyes, that evil grin… It definitely wasn’t the first time he’d flirted with you in private.

“You’re too good for him, Y/n,” he spoke smoothly, his face nearing yours and his voice dripping with lusty deception.

“I doubt that, Harry,” you spoke just above a whisper as he slithered around you until his hands were holding your hips and your back was against his chest. You knew it was wrong. You knew you should have stopped but you didn’t want to.

And when you felt his breath on the back of your ear and he pressed his hips against your bum you softly gasped but made no move to stop him. He was too close and his lips were practically brushing against the shell of your ear as he kept swaying you in step with his movements, hips glued to your backside, and then he moaned. The sound vibrating off your neck and making goosebumps rise up on your skin.

You closed your eyes and settled your hands over his when he let out another graveled moan into your ear, “You like this don’t you? Need more attention from Colin than he can give you…”

It was true. You were a bit needy while Colin was a bit cold, aloof. But it’d always been that way with you two and you’d settled and gotten used to the way he was. However, that didn’t mean you didn’t miss attention. And Harry was suddenly filling in the small gaps left behind from Colin’s apathy.

But the moment you heard the keys in the door, Harry moved away from you just as deftly as he’d pulled you against his chest and acted like nothing had happened. 

. .

You forced Colin to drink his whole cup of water and by the time he’d finished he was already half asleep. It was time to go and Harry accompanied you.

“You don’t have to help,” you said as the three of you climbed into the back of a taxi together.

“Look at him, Y/n. What makes you think he’s gonna be able to walk to the door on his own? You certainly can’t carry him. Besides, I live at the same house and it was time for me to go as well. Saves us money anyway, yeah?”

You nodded. He had a point you supposed.

You were smushed between Harry and Colin in the backseat. Colin was like a limp noodle against you while Harry was warm and solid and somehow he took up so much more space than you imagined he would.

“You’re gonna stay over, right?” Harry looked down at you.

“I figured I would, yeah. It’s not a problem?”

Harry chuckled and looked out his window before putting his big palm over his thigh, knocking against your knee, “Of course it’s not a problem. I love it when you’re over.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off his pinky finger which was nudged against your jeans. You weren’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or if it was just because the space was so tight but you certainly didn’t mind it. Looking over at your boyfriend his mouth was dropped open and his eyes were closed. Out cold.

“He’s not waking up for the rest of the night,” Harry spoke quietly, his lips aimed toward your ear.

You gulped when Harry shifted the slightest, pressing his side into yours, and began moving his hand over his jeans-clad thigh, his pinky brushing over your own jeans-clad thigh.

When you arrived at the house, Harry pulled Colin out of the backseat and lifted him into his arms bridal style. You laughed at the sight and followed the men toward the door.

“Keys are in my front left pocket,” Harry said as he jutted his hips out and looked at you with a smirk.

You sighed and slid your fingers into his pocket, which was a bit tight, but you pushed in until you felt the metal and looped your finger into one of the key rings to pull at it.

Harry sucked in a breath through his teeth, “There you go, Y/n. Just like that.” Harry said it as if you were doing something naughty to him.

Unlocking the door you stepped in and held it open for Harry, who walked past you and took his best friend to his bed, laying his head on the pillow and then removed his boots. You watched from the doorway of Colin’s room as Harry took care of him, light shining into his room from the hallway.

Harry grunted when he pulled the last boot off and then got up to leave the room, closing the door behind himself.

You pointed toward the doorknob, “I’m probably just gonna call it a night actually.”

Harry pressed his lips together, hiding the grin that was trying to take over his features, “Nahh… stay up a little longer with me. Don’t go to bed yet.”

It was a terrible idea. You weren’t being forced to follow him away from Colin’s room. You weren’t being manipulated or deceived. You were curious, though. Wondered what might happen if given the chance.

You both had a bottle of water as you sat on the stool near the record player and Harry sat on the couch across from you, his legs spread apart.

“Why you all the way over there?” He licked his goddamn lips again as he looked at you with what could only be described as bedroom eyes; that half-lidded, sultry gaze.

 “I don’t know. I just sat here is all,” you shrugged and capped your water bottle before placing it on the floor by your feet.

“You got work tomorrow?” He asked as he crossed an ankle over his knee before his ring-clad fingers ran up and down his thick thighs.

“No. I don’t work Sundays. What about you?” You already knew the answer.

“Nope. Means we can stay up as late as we want. Colin won’t wake up til afternoon anyway. When he gets like this he’s a log.”

You laughed and nodded, “Yeah. I’ve seen him like this a few times. You’re right.”

“Why don’t you put a record on,” he gestured toward the turn table next to you.

You squatted down to go through the records, tracing your fingers over the dust jackets until you found one that had a mix of popular 70s songs, “You guys have a lot of 70s music.”

Harry crouched down next to you to see which album you were looking at, “S’cause these are all used and plus 70s music is pretty good, yeah?” He grinned at you, taking the record from your hands and stood up, “Want this one?”

You nodded and watched him put the vinyl on the record player and then hit the button for the music to begin. The song that started to play sounded like something instrumental at first but then you heard the first line Got a black magic woman…

Harry turned to look down at you and began bobbing his head and rolling his shoulders, moving to the music. You laughed at him. He was being a little goofy with his movements but the dimpled grin on his face was evidence that he was trying to make you laugh. You swung your arms then raised them over your head and spun around with your hips swaying.

You and Harry kept moving to the song and then he was behind you, singing the words to the song when you felt him moving in step with you, “She’s tryin’ to make a devil out of me… Don’t turn your back on me baby…”

You laughed as he sang just loud enough for you to hear his raspy voice in your ear.

“Is my singing funny to you,” you felt his hand on your arm, nudging you back toward him.

You turned to look back at him over your shoulder, “You’re just funny, Harry. You’re being goofy.”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m goofy?” He held your arm as he pressed his chest into your back and continued singing, “Stop messin’ ‘round with your tricks…Don’t turn your back on me, baby… You just might pick up my magic sticks…”

You moved with the music and couldn’t help the cheesy grin on your face as he brought a hand down to your hip while his other stayed wrapped around your upper arm.

He sang his breathy words into your ear and it made your skin to heat but the way he was holding you against his body had your resolve crumbling. Not that you had much resolve to begin with.

“Yes, you got your spell on me, baby… Turnin’ my heart into stone… I need you so bad magic woman, I can’t leave you alone…”

You moaned, the top row of your teeth jammed into your bottom lips and he squeezed at your hip as his lips grazed against your ear.

You knew this would happen. When you were looking through the albums you wondered if he’d get up and dance with you. If he’d pull you into his arms and seduce you like he nearly did that time before. Or any of the other times he flirted with you or touched your skin, or whispered compliments into your ear when Colin wasn’t paying attention. There was only so much a girl could take when a man like Harry was coming on to her.

And who would ever know?

You raised your arms and drew your hands to the back of his neck as he continued swaying you in his arms, his crotch glued to your bum and you felt every bit of him pressed into you. His hot exhale on your neck was damp on your skin just before his pink lips found your flesh.

It sent a crackle of electricity through your spine as he began to kiss your soft skin slowly and when the song changed you found yourself being turned in his arms, all blurry and hot and thirsting when you felt his mouth smeared against yours.

He cradled the back of your head as his lips pressed plush kisses to your mouth and then his tongue slid over yours.

You’d stopped moving altogether and instead just stood next to the record player as the music played and you made out with Harry. If Colin walked in you didn’t know if you’d be able to even stop then. Harry’s lips and his tongue and his hands were rewiring your brain chemistry and all you wanted was him.

A cracked moan fell from your chest as Harry pulled away, his eyes locked on yours as he tugged at you, moving you toward his bedroom.

The Bill Withers song was still playing in the background as you were led to his room.

I want to spread the news… That if it feels this good getting used… Oh, you just keep on using me… Until you use me up…

He shut his door and the sound of the song was muffled but when he put his hands on your hips and his soft lips found yours you grabbed his t-shirt and pulled at him until you were both on his bed, limbs tangled and mouths wound together.

He rolled to his back and pulled you over his legs so you were straddling his thighs on top of him as you kept kissing and groaning into his mouth.

You could feel how hard he was in his jeans as you rolled your pelvis gently down and he hissed, “Keep doing that and I’m not gonna be able to stop, Y/n.”

You laughed into his mouth and pulled away to look down at him, “What are we doing, Harry?”

He let out a breathy chuckle as he kept a hold of your hips, “We’re doing something very bad is what we’re doing.”

Biting your lip you looked at his kiss-swollen mouth and back into his eyes, “We shouldn’t though, right? This is bad.”

He licked his lips, “We shouldn’t. But who’s gonna stop us?” His big hands moved down to your thighs. “What if it’s just our little secret? No one has to know.”

You dropped your lips back down over his in an unspoken agreement. No one ever had to know. It’d be your dirty little secret. A naughty indulgence to never be spoken of again.

When you felt his fingers smooth up to the bottom hem of your shirt you felt him tugging it upward. Halting the movement of your mouth against his you sat up and shucked it from your torso. His hands immediately found your tits as you unhooked the back of your bra and the moment your nipples were bare to him he sat up, one arm winding around your low back as his hand cupped your fleshy breast and he ducked to pull it into his mouth.

Wet saliva coated each of your tits as Harry wove his mouth back and forth on your skin and your nipples. You slid your fingers into his hair and moaned as he leaned you back further until your back was on his mattress and he was hovering over you, undoing your jeans button.

You looked up at him and pulled at his t-shirt. You wanted to see more of him. You’d seen his bare chest before. You’d seen him in just running shorts a few times. The man was ungodly. Tattoos, chiseled pecs, and soft abs with masculine hair scattered over his chest. Strong arms that could crush and thighs that allowed him the sort of endurance you were sure would come in handy that very night. He was broad and dense, heavy and sexy as fuck.

When his skin was on view you ran your hands over his shoulders and down to his pecs as he began to undo his own jeans. You quickly pushed your fingers into your waistband and yanked your jeans down your legs until you were just left in stretchy red boyshorts.

Harry groaned and kicked his jeans off and then crawled back over you, carefully fitting himself between your thighs and laying his hips against yours, his hard cock, hidden by the thin layer of his boxers, rested over your pussy as he slowly rocked himself down. You lifted your hips upward to feel his girth and the heat of him between your legs.

Dry humping. You hadn’t done it since your first year of college. Guys tended to go right for getting naked and getting something wet as soon as possible.

Though, technically Harry was getting something wet. Between his tongue on your lips and your pussy secreting arousal with every nudge of his dick against your clit there was nothing dry about dry humping in that moment. Even his boxers were getting wet the longer you two went at it.

He began to move himself down your body, taking more time to lavish your breasts with his tongue and his lips before he licked into your belly button triggering a giggle to bubble out of your mouth. He placed his hands on your hips and dug his fingers under the elastic band at the top of your underwear and began to pull at them, to which you lifted your hips so he could tug them off.

Smoothing his big palms up the outside of your thighs to your hips he kept his eyes on the glistening space between your legs and puffed out a breath, “This is all mine tonight?” He looked up at you and it was dripping hedonistic lust as his thumbs slid down over the soft flesh of your pelvis.

You nodded and breathed out a yes before he slowly poked his tongue out to lick his lips and lowered his mouth to the space next to his thumb, a warm kiss smushed into your skin before it sliced a damp path inward to your mons. You were spinning and blubbering under him as he gripped onto the underside of your thigh and held you apart.

Your body was trembling before he even laid his tongue over your pussy but when he finally pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to your clit you could have just perished right then. You balled up the blanket under you in your fists as he began to run his tongue up and down your wet pussy.

You sputtered out a string of curses and rolled your hips up when he slid his fingers over your entrance and prodded in.

“Mmm…” he lifted his face to look up at you, “Y/n… you’re so wet for me. Gonna need to sneak tastes of your pussy anytime Colin isn’t around.”

You couldn’t respond other than to moan his name and thread your fingers into his hair when he reattached his lips.

There was something about the way Harry did it, the way he licked at your pussy and kissed your clit, the way he drove his fingers into your cunt and moaned over you that was so sultry and hungry… it was like he needed it, like he was desperate for it. For you.

The house was quiet. It was lucky Colin slept like the dead when he got drunk like that or you’d have to worry about him hearing. But as it was, Harry’s bedroom was filled with the sound of something lewd and wet and achy. Moans coming from you and from him, your pussy getting worked by his fingers and his mouth, the shift of bodies over blankets and the subtle creaking of his bed as he dug into your pussy with more fervor.

 And you really tried not thinking about the way Colin did it versus how Harry was doing it but you were amazed at what a little enthusiasm could feel like. Colin ate you out, sure, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t a man with a primal need to make you feel good and stake some kind of claim on you. Colin’s method was more like a means to an end. A way to get you nice and wet so he could stick his dick inside of you.

Harry’s method was an animalistic craving. He wasn’t eating you out nicely with a soft tongue and a few slurps. No. This was something else. He was devouring you. Sloppy and sopping. He dragged his tongue over you like it was his fucking job. The one arm he had wrapped around you, was anchoring you to his mouth. You couldn’t escape him if you wanted. This man wasn’t taking it easy. When he lifted you slightly, he scooted in closer and removed his fingers from your pussy and licked up the wet spots on your inner thighs and down your bum before he spread you back open with two of his fingers again and got back to ravaging your clit.

You had to release his hair and go back to gripping the blankets as you felt your body wash away into the atmosphere, floating and buzzing and melting as you lay helpless under his weight and his tongue.

You were certain it was going to be a mess when he was done with you. There wasn’t anything dry between your legs nor on his face. The heat and the moisture rose until there was nothing left for you to do but come. And come and come…

He had his fingers pressed into your front wall massaging your g-spot as he sucked and drew your clit into his mouth. You couldn’t stop shaking or crying for what felt like minutes upon minutes.

But then it was too much and you squeaked a laugh as you tried lifting and pulling away but when you pushed at his forehead he swatted you away and grunted, not letting up on the doggish way he was eating you.

“Oh my god! Fuck, Harry!” You bellowed into his room and tried closing your legs and moving to roll to your side but he had you pinned down and it seemed only to egg him on. His eyes flitted up to yours and in warning to keep still, not that you had much choice. He wasn’t budging nor letting you pull away from his mouth as he continued fucking you with those long fingers and lapping all around your hot, pulsing clit.

But then you saw the slight smirk as he lifted for air before he dove down again and slid his tongue quickly over your clit and the sensitive, too-much feeling turned into a liquid ache and then desire as you felt you second orgasm begin to prick and burst until it was forced out of you like a torture method. Come or else…

So you came again. Not against your will but not by your own accord. It was automatic. You couldn’t stop it from happening.

You were drifting into the ether when he finally, fucking finally, pulled his mouth and his fingers away. When you opened your eyes he was smirking down at you, like he was proud of the state he’d left you in.

“What?” You croaked out as your chest heaved violently.

“I’m serious. Gonna need to do that to you as often as possible. Whenever Colin’s not looking. Damn you’re hot, Y/n. Fuck…” he ran his hands over your sides and up your torso to your nipples where he circled over them with his thumbs, “Wish I’d gotten to you first.”

You pushed yourself to sit up, “You… he’s your best friend, though. I mean… I just think…” you huffed, not fully having your wits about you after what he’d just done to you, “God… I wouldn’t be able to say no, but this is bad, Harry. Don’t you think this should be a one-time thing? Like, we should never do this again, right?”

You watched him lick his lips and swallow and that’s when you noticed he had your arousal down his neck. The guy had gone in so intensely on your pussy that you dripped down his neck. You supposed he had reason to be proud.

“We’ll see, won’t we? I’m not a great friend, I’ll admit. But you’re not a great girlfriend either are you? Doing this behind his back the way we are… it’s bad, but fuck if I don’t want to steal you away from him.”

You puffed a laugh through your nose and ran a hand over your face. You couldn’t believe you were cheating in the first place. It was insane. You weren’t a cheater.

But actually… you were a cheater. You were lying in your boyfriend’s best friend’s bed completely naked and freshly zonked from two orgasms. You were absolutely a cheater.

Harry pulled at your thigh, dragging you closer to him and he cradled the back of your head with his hand and kissed you so deeply you nearly forgot Colin’s name for a moment. You could feel his erection, stiff and hot against your inner thigh and you were compelled to run your hand over his boxers to grip him and feel it in your hand.

You gasped into his mouth and parted from the kiss to look down at the monster you were holding in your palm. Looking back up at Harry with your lips parted in lust you were suddenly hyper-aware that the man you were in bed with was going to fuck you with that thing and if he was as good with his cock as he was with his mouth… you were surely doomed.

“What is it?” He asked you with hooded eyes and a syrupy, deep, lusty voice. He knew what it was. The man was more than aware of the kind of advantage he had in that area.

You squeezed around him let your palm travel up the length of it over his boxers and pressed over his tip, “Let me see it.”

He grinned at you silently as he pulled at his boxers and brought them down, his thick shaft lobbing out, heavy and stiff. You let out a moan and moved back, getting to your knees and holding him at the root against his pubic hair before tonguing over him and drawing your saliva down the length of him.

Harry hissed as he leaned back, palms flat against his mattress as he watched you suck on him for a moment, lips working over his tip and wetting him with your spit. You moaned again and pulled off of him, “God, Harry. Fuck…”

He held the back of your head as you dipped down again and took him in your mouth, wrapping your lips around him and gorging on the taste and feel of him. It was smooth and hot against your tongue. He was wide, bulbous. But you couldn’t help the way just the look and feel of his cock had your already weeping pussy flutter and clench at the thought of him driving into you with it.

“You like that, don’t you? God, you’re supposed to mine, Y/n. Oh fuck that feels good…”

Your insides were feeling too hollow, your walls straining together to feel something that would take up the empty space. You popped off of his tip, saliva dripping down your chin, “Fuck me. Please.”

Harry tilted his head to the side, “Already? You don’t need a minute to recover? You that greedy, baby?”

“I am right now,” you pulled at his boxers to get rid of them. Harry put his hands into the band of his underwear and took them off completely.

“Just right now? So tomorrow we’ll go back to normal then,” he crawled over you, making your back hit the mattress as his hand found your tit, “Pretend this never happened and never do it again, yeah?”

You panted and reached around his back to pull him down, “I don’t know…” you whined and bucked your hips up, “Just… right now is all I can think about. Please…”

“A bit cockdumb huh? You’re not thinking straight, are you?”

You scrunched your face and pouted, “What? Just fuck me, Harry!”

He grinned at you and shook his head in disbelief, “No condom then?”

You’d forgotten. You were always so good about using condoms and being the one on top of that decision with Colin. Only a few times did you ever let him fuck you without one and it was only when you were 100% sure it was not during your fertile window and he wasn’t allowed to come inside you anyway.

“Fuck…” you breathed out and whined as you raised your hips upward, pressing your wet pussy against his cock, “Just fuck me. I don’t even care right now. I’m gonna lose my mind…”

Harry grabbed your chin and his eyes pierced into you as he spoke, “Are you on birth control?”

You shook your head, “No. But… god…” you writhed under him.

Harry let out a burst of a laugh, still shaking his head, “Damn. Did I do this to you? Baby you’re gonna regret it if you let me fuck you raw. That’s asking for trouble.”

“Just… goddamnit…” you closed your eyes and groaned. You wanted him right then. You were sure you’d never acted like such a slut before but Harry’s body and his deep voice, his eyes, the way the front of his thighs were pressed into the back of yours… He could just slip right in and pound away and you’d feel all of him. Every ridge and wrinkle, hot velvet gliding through your gummy channel, drinking him in…

When you raised your hips again, your eyes on his he nudged himself down toward you, his cock sliding through your pussylips, slicking up and down and jabbing at your clit you clung to his back tight.

“You want it? Like this?” He placed his forearm down on the bed alongside your shoulder as he rocked down over you, his tip traveling over your pussy and getting drenched in your juice.

“Mmm… Harry… yes…”

He softly kissed your lips as he rutted up and slid back, “You’re gonna let me fuck you bare? In this bedroom right here, next to your boyfriend’s? You sure?”

You nodded, your nose bumping against his as you breathed out the word please.

He parted from the kiss and set his eyes on yours as he flexed his thighs and poked at your hole gently with his tip. He teased you for a bit, only gently pressing just the very tip of himself into you until suddenly and all once he forced his crown through your tight, pulsing muscle, opening you up and burying himself in until his balls were tucked against your ass.

You both let out a loud and pathetic mewl at the sensation and you could feel him shaking already. It was decadent and rude and sumptuous and unbearable. It was so wrong. So bad but so fucking delightful.

He began to slowly thrust as he kept his gaze pinned to yours, “Okay? Feel good?”

You moaned as you nodded and kept a tight grasp on his back, wrapping your legs around him so you could keep yourself grounded. So that you knew it was real. That Harry was actually fucking you with his big cock and you weren’t just dreaming it.

“Yeah? Feel all of me like this, don’t you? Needed me so bad and now you’ve got me, baby. Gonna give you my cock whenever you want it. Sneak around behind Colin’s back and keep it secret. He’ll never know. Could fuck you all night and all morning and he’ll wake up tomorrow with no idea of the filthy kind of girl you are.”

“Mmmm… fuck!” You whined as he plunged deep inside your guts. You’d never had anyone so thick and long before. And it was just a bonus that it was attached to a man like Harry. It shouldn’t have surprised you that someone with the kind of confidence he had would be so hung.

“Mmmm… fuck is right… that feels so fucking good. I had a feeling your pussy would be made for me,” he panted his words as he worked into you, thighs flexing against yours.

Your noises were uncontrollable. You had no ability to restrain yourself. You truly were intoxicated, incapacitated, obtunded. Delirious. Which Harry seemed to get a kick out of.

“You’ve never had it like this before, have you? I know what you had to deal with,” he gasped when you gripped tight around and dug your nails into his back, “Colin’s a lazy boyfriend. You need more attention and I can see that. Gonna give you all the attention you can handle if you want it, Y/n…”

Harry pulled back, making your legs fall from his back as he lowered his lips to your tits, curling himself over you as he continued fucking into you, sucking your nipples into his mouth and running his tongue over your sensitive nubs one at a time.

It was debauched gluttony. Harry was so much better in bed than Colin and it almost wasn’t fair. But you couldn’t even feel an ounce of guilt because it was the best thing you’d ever felt. Harry sucked your nipples hard as his cock wrecked your insides, running his hand along the outside of your soft breast and then to the other side, continuing the pace at which he rocked into you. His bed only creaked in time with his thrusts, slow and steady, but the sound of your sodden pussy taking his big cock was salacious and lewd.

Every stroke of his long dick through your pussy walls felt like damnation and salvation all at once. You weren’t sure you’d be the same after. Weren’t sure you wouldn’t be begging him for more every time Colin wasn’t watching. Harry had ruined you.

Harry’s gasps and pants against your tits grew more desperate and you could feel him throbbing inside of you, nudging deep into your tummy and slowly rearing back, his cock coated and sticky with you before plunging it all back inside of you again.

He steadied himself, lifting up to look down at you as he began to fuck into you a little harder, his bed bouncing a little more with the sound of skin slapping together and your punched moans filled the room.

Every time he buried himself in he ground his pelvis against your clit and it sent fireworks through your nervous system. You grabbed onto his thighs as he rutted into you, deep and desperate strokes that split you wide open and made you drool it felt so good. Harry’s chest was sweating as he held your hips down and circled his groin against you, his moans growing louder and whinier as he watched you slowly come undone.

“Give me another one, baby. Show me how good it feels when I fuck you. Better than it’s ever felt with anyone else…”

Harry had something to prove.

You could hardly think straight. The man was fucking out any logic or sense in your brain but you didn’t want to have rational thoughts that interrupted what was happening. You wanted Harry and his cock. You wanted to be fucked by him just like he was for all time. To hell with Colin and his sorry excuse for lovemaking. Harry was a real man with pleasure to give.

The breath was kicked from your lungs when the tight coil in your tummy began to unravel and the yummiest, most transcendent orgasm you’d ever experienced began to take over. The only thing you registered was Harry’s cock pounding into you and words of encouragement egging you on as the mattress squeaked violently under you. His words were unclear but you could hear the starved and whimpery moans falling from his mouth between words.

You trembled and quaked as you spasmed over him, the glide of his heavy cock through your guts squelched and ached as you gasped for air and finally began to discern what was happening when Harry frantically pulled his cock from your pussy and climbed over you, taking your face in his hand and dipped his pussy flavored dick into your lips where you felt him pumping warm, creamy come down your throat and onto your tongue. You grabbed onto his ass with both hands and pulled at him, beckoning him to stuff his whole fat cock into your esophagus.

The grunts and moans he let fall from his chest were the sexiest thing you’d ever heard from any man. Colin wasn’t vocal at all. When Colin came he’d pinch his face up like he was in pain or disgusted by the flavor of something and silently sigh with his mouth open.

But Harry… Harry wasn’t holding back. He was moaning as he thrust his cock into your mouth and slapped his hand on the headboard to steady himself, “Fuck…”

When you’d siphoned every drop from him, he gently pulled his meaty cock from your mouth and you coughed, gasping for air. Harry laid himself on the bed next to you and cupped your cheek, “You all right,” he panted.

You moaned and wiped the back of your hand over your mouth and rolled to face him, “Yeah I’m all right. Better than all right I’d say.”

Harry laughed, moving his hand from your face and fondled your breast in his palm, smushing at it and thumbing over your nipple, “You down to keep doing this with me?”

You sighed and ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek as you placed your palm on his chest, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be craving that from now on.”

He grinned, “Be craving what?”

“You. The way you do it. I…” you laughed, “I’ve never come three times in a row like that for any man.”

“So you want me to give you lots of cummies?” He snorted a laugh, “Need me to take care of you when Colin can’t.”

“When you say it like that… god it sounds so bad doesn’t it?”

“It is bad, Y/n. We are two very bad people who just did something very awful to someone. But I certainly don’t want to stop.”

“I mean… I don’t know if I can stop now. That was…”

“The best.”

You nodded. It was the best. And you knew you’d have regrets and the guilt would come at some point. But in that moment after being expertly fucked and properly taken care of you could think of nothing better than to do it again and again and again. As often as you could get away with it.

“How long do you think we can keep doing this? Like we’ll have to be lying all the time and sneaking around.”

“If we’re quiet and sneaky enough, as long as we want.”

You bit into your bottom lip and giggled, “That was a smart move. Not coming inside of me. Was gonna let you, ya know.”

Harry sat up with a smirk, “I know you were gonna. But I think fucking my best friend’s girl raw is quite enough mistakes for one night. As much as I wanted to fill you up we’ll have to save that one for a rainy day.”

You sat up with him, clothes all strewn about on the floor and at the foot of his bed, “A rainy day, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Harry pinched your thigh before hopping off the bed out of your reach with a laugh, “And I think it’s only fair that you sleep in here with me tonight,” he slid his boxers up his legs, “Colin’s not gonna wake up until late so we’ll have plenty of time before he’s conscious.”

Harry tossed you his t-shirt and you pulled it over your head, “Why’s that only fair?”

Harry shrugged, “Cause I like to cuddle and Colin’s passed out so might as well let me have some since I probably won’t get to do it very often.”

You slid off his bed and pulled your arms over his shoulders, “That’s kind of sweet, Harry.”

“So you’ll stay in here with me tonight?”

“Without a doubt.”

You were both so fucked.

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[rottiens]

WHISPERS OF RECONCILIATION ┊S. GOJŌ

✮ word count: 1.8k

✮ summary. your husband is less and less at home due to missions he can't turn down, so every time he comes back, you feel him more distant.

✮ tags. . husband gojō x afab reader, they have a daughter, marital problems, angst to fluff, canon au, the struggle of being a first time mom. divider creds: cafekitsune.

You turn on the faucet, releasing the stream of water as you hear the front door open.

The noise doesn't scare you or stop you from your task since you know it's him. As you cover the sponge with the fun bubbles from the dishwashing gel, you hear his footsteps like a muffled distant noise, in the passage from the main entrance to where you are, his presence looms like lightning warning of a storm. All the lights are off except for the one in the kitchen which makes gojo trace his path directly towards you.

It doesn't take long for his arms to wrap around your waist from behind. You don't flinch, unlike when you did at the beginning of the relationship.

"What?" Gojo laughs at the line of your neck, it's a snort that denotes weariness. He smells of beer, far beneath that are traces of the perfume he had soaked himself in this morning when he left the house. "No reaction now?" Gojo breathes your skin, you smell of sweat and dirty clothes and the kisses he leaves on your neck make your stomach clench.

You do your best to pretend that his touch doesn't set your skin on fire, that his long fingers slipping under your nightgown have no effect on you.

The grip on the innocent plate tightens, a little, then tighter. Gojo keeps breathing into the shell of your ear, just behind the cartilage where he manages to bristle your skin until you can pretend no more and set the plate aside causing a clatter in the puddle of water, your fingers form fists under the warm spray of the faucet.

"Stop." It's not a command but a gentle request, you press your lips together and gojo stops right away.

"Are we still fighting?" Gojo sounds like a puppy you just kicked to the curb and yet he doesn't insist, pulls his hands off your body and takes a step back, you almost instantly regret it.

"Yes," you reply after a while, to a question he forgot he asked.

You hear him sigh heavily, then you feel him grab you by the waist and with your help you allow him to turn around until you are facing him. You refuse to look at him however after a while you give in, his tousled hair falls like snowflakes across his forehead, his eyes are naked, blue and alert staring at you. On top of his uniform he had a denim jacket on, you're sure it didn't cover him much from the winter cold and that probably geto lent it to him when they went out drinking because your gojo always forgot his coats.

You imagine him going reluctantly, just not to say no to his best friend, because your gojo hates the taste of alcohol as much as you do.

Gojo doesn't move, he lets his hand seek yours without detaching from your eyes. His fingers are icy cold and you shiver at the sudden touch, suddenly Gojo is taking your hand into his mouth. His lips rest on the back of your wet hand, droplets of water manage to reach the floor and his shoes and you let him do it because the scene is too commniveddorative to damage the moment.

His mouth murmurs a sorry for each kiss he deposits. Immediately your damp skin releases him from the cold of the street and when he kisses you a fourth time, you can feel them grow warmer. Gojo suddenly stops from the task and looks up at you from his position raising his eyebrows, your hand still close to your mouth, so close that his next words brush your skin. "I don't like it when we fight."

You don't like it either. But you had no choice but to stop talking and frown as you gave him a killing look when he told you he couldn't say no to a mission. What did he mean by that? you wondered. His daughter was three months old and all he did was miss her first babbles, not being home when you needed him, barely changing her diapers and barely feeding her.

Your feet are killing you, your muscles looked like they had been bitten by a giant monster and the circles under your eyes were getting darker with each passing day.

"You're frowning." When gojo speaks again, you notice that his back is straight now.

Slowly you move away from his touch and your arm returns to you, dangling beside your body.

"I don't want to talk about it."

You get ready to turn around to focus on washing the dishes, including his because his dinner got cold in the dining room, next to yours, while you were feeding your little girl, however gojo interrupts you by returning to make prey to your hips with his hands and thus sticking you a second time to his body. 

"Leave it. I'll do it." 

Your lungs fill and soon empty with another exhalation. And before gojo can respond to anything else you were already leaving the room.

You were tired, you could feel it in the way your bare feet dragged the floor beneath them, swollen and full of calluses. Gojo watches you as you turn the corner and lose yourself in the hallway with a dark aura surrounding your whole figure and your shoulders being pulled by the force of the floor.

Gojo returns to the dishes in front of him. Only his, a glass and a pair of forks remained, which he washed without haste.

The silence of the kitchen serves as an executioner that punishes him along with his thoughts for his actions. Gojo thinks about the day, thinks about his girl and thinks about you and how unfair it must be for you to have given up these months of being a sorceress who risked her life every day to be a full-time mother while the drab and boring walls loom over you.

His footsteps are long and silent, Gojo crosses the hallway where he can hear water spurting from part of the guest bathroom. He thinks about stopping at the door and asking you if you need anything else, however he leaves you this moment alone and heads towards the baby's room. Gojo pushes the door causing a rustic scream from the wood, in the background there is an acoustic melody playing and a bluish night light carrying in them figures of stars and moons swaying on the walls of the room. Gojo had bought it especially for her, it was the first gift he bought when you told him you were pregnant. The memory makes him smile, nostalgic.

Gojo restrains himself from stretching his arms and pulling her to his chest. So he just bends his back until his spine complains and deposits a soft kiss on her forehead that his girl never feels, since he activates his technique in time to not touch her and prevent her from waking up.

Just as he came in, he left. He no longer hears you in the hallway, there is no more water dripping from the shower, yet there are wet footsteps going towards the shared room that give away that you were done.

Gojo slips into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and contemplates himself in the mirror for a moment, still the same as always, with a couple of black spots under his eyes and the occasional irritated red vein in the infinite sea of his blue eyes. He fills his lungs with your scent, the liquid gel of vanilla flowers bounces inside the four walls of the bathroom, he drops his eyelids and buries his fingers in the ceramic of the sink.

Gojo takes off his jacket and lays it on the floor, then discards the rest of his clothes. His fingers curl around the faucet and he lets the hot water wash away the traces of the day from him as he relives over and over again the arguments you’ve had these past months. 

The soap scrubs away the weariness of the day along with his dreary thoughts, these run down the drain along with the dirty suds that the water bathes off his body.

Once he is done, he wraps a towel around his hips. He turns off the rest of the lights and goes to bed.

You are on your side of the mattress with your back to the door, everything is dark except for the moonbeams that manage to enter through the crack that the curtains cannot protect. He closes the door with a soft sound and turns to you, leaving the towel hanging behind the door, gojo climbs into bed with his body and soul naked.

He knows you're not sleeping. It takes him a moment to find his voice, lost in the spots on the ceiling, he searches for the right word he should use instead of "I'm sorry."

"I," he clears his throat, one finger tapping his own rib. "I'm not going to school tomorrow."

At first gojo thinks you are sleeping, you say nothing and your breathing is slow and steady.

"And?" That's all you say, encouraging him to keep talking.

"I will tell Yaga that I need a couple of weeks off, I want to have these days together with my wife and daughter."

You don't answer again, you let your body do the talking. You push further into him, your ass collides with his side and he laughs softly, improving his posture to better embrace you from behind. His arms immediately cling to your waist in a possessive manner, drawing you to his chest where you feel his ragged breathing.

"I'm still upset," you finally say, feeling him smile against your ear as he squeezes your body tighter. "But I guess that's a start."

"You have worked so hard these days and I am sorry to leave you alone, I promise I will make it up to you, there is no justification in having left you alone these weeks." You force your lip between your teeth to keep from giving him the pleasure of making you smile. "I'm going to start with cooking tomorrow."

You laugh instantly, gojo pulls you further into his body, threatening to tickle you and you raise your hands in submission.

"You cooking sounds very tasty, satoru. It's just..."

"Hm?" 

"It's just that you haven't done it in a while." Then you add, "It's been a while since you've been home."

Gojo merely kisses your bare shoulder and plays with the skin on your abdomen.

"I'm sorry," he says, after a while. You nod looking at his hands, looking at how pretty the engagement ring looks on them. "I love you so much, I love our daughter, I love what we have. I don't want to ruin that."

You bring his hands to your mouth, your stomach swelling with tension, your gut roiling as you bring them close enough to kiss his knuckles and then assure a barely audible, "I love you too. Let's talk about it tomorrow, shall we?”

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 01

Jeff the Killer x Female Reader - In the Shower/Anal

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Anal, showering together, clitoral fingering, teasing, persuasion, mentions of blood, desperation

Words: 2.6k

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

A/N: Happy first day of October! The best time of the year is upon us!!!!!

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Jeff was snickering, your disgusted gawk making the smile on his face widen.

“Dude fought back. Got a little messy.”

He laughed again, pushing his matted hair from his face. The killer was completely covered in blood, horrendous streaks and splatters of the deep red color soaking his face and clothes, his white hoodie completely ruined.

You cringed as he grabbed the hem of his hoodie, bringing it up to wipe his face and smearing the already staining blots deeper into the cloth.

Better yet, it was dripping everywhere.

“I cannot believe you brought that in here, Jeffrey.”

Rubbing his hands on his jeans, he gleamed at you, finding so much humor in your well off revulsion. It didn’t matter that he had just gotten back from a very late mission, or that you were so annoyed you didn’t know what to think.

Then when you saw Jeff’s signature ‘I’ve got a good idea’ smirk, and you were immediately shaking your head.

“No. Jeff, no.”

But his arms were already outstretched and reaching for you, your feet immediately shuffling back on the hardwood as he laughed loud enough to alert everyone in the mansion.

“C’mon, I just wanna hug my girlfriend! I’ve had such a long day.”

It was the shit-eating grin that finally made you spin around to take off, pushing yourself into a sprint as you anxiously dodged through the corridors.

“Jeffrey!”

Your nervous giggles and yells as Jeff chased you through the mansion only egged him on, his wicked laughter sending your heart thumping as you felt him hot on your heels. You sprinted through doors, scampering around furniture as he easily cut through them all.

You thought you were smart when you swerved around the kitchen counter, standing opposite of him and moving left or right whichever direction he decided to edge. You smiled, thinking you had outsmarted him.

You sometimes forget that he’s a seasoned murderer.

Gripping onto the counter, Jeff’s jumping and clearing the space, pushing his body right towards yours as you brace yourself.

“Ahh, gotcha.”

You cringe as Jeff presses his cheek against yours, arms laced tightly around your back and soaking the blood from his clothes onto yours, soiling you both. You were panting, both of you nearly exhausted.

Despite the nastiness, the smell was worse. Your hands push at his shoulders, trying to shove him away as he nuzzles his face closer against yours.

When you’ve finally had enough, you force him away, his hands reaching to find a comfortable space on your hips as you examine the damage. You’re covered…

“Shower. Right now.”

That playful smile Jeff has sported this whole time drops, his eyes rolling as you take his hand in yours and begin to drag him up the grand stairs. He groans, lazily following as you tug him down the hallway to your bedroom. You’ll have to mop up the droplets of blood he’s left along the way later.

Nudging him in, you flip the bathroom light on and rip the curtain back to turn on the faucet. Jeff is already tugging his hoodie over his head, the revolting ‘plop’ as it hits the bathroom tiles is enough to make you gag.

He watches expectantly as he kicks his boots off, reaching to yank his belt out from the loops as you begin to unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs.

Once you’re reaching to pull your shirt over your head, Jeff’s hands come to caress your hips once again, inching closer to you with excited eyes.

He’s met with your palm to his face, a displeased grunt leaving him as his hands fall back to his sides.

“Not after that, you little shit.”

It’s playful, but he’s irritated anyway, grumbling under his breath as he continues to undress himself.

When you’re both stripped, you use your foot to move the clothes out of the way, pressing your hands onto Jeff’s back and shoving him towards the running shower teasingly. Steam already fills the room, the hazy swirl comforting as he steps in.

A smile and he’s reaching for you, arms wrapping around your waist and smearing the blood further, hauling you under the hot water with him.

“Shit- Tryna’ burn my skin off?”

You laugh, cupping his cheeks and tilting his head back into the water, blood and dirt rushing down the drain. His hands rest on your hips, thumbs gliding across your skin as you swipe his bangs from his forehead and coax more water through.

Letting your hands roam over his shoulders and chest, you scrub the grime from his skin, his fingers gripping just a little tighter the lower your hands brush along his stomach.

Peeking up, you smirk, his eyes already heavy and expectant, a lazy grin plastered across his face.

“Baby…”

You’re shaking your head, pushing him out from under the water stream and taking his place, beginning to wash your own hair. You can feel the eagerness radiating from him, the heat from the shower swirling as the blood from your own skin runs down the drain.

You lean back, shutting your eyes as you begin to cleanse your face. You jolt when you feel hands wrap around your back, pulling you out of the water and flush against the killer’s body.

“C’mon…”

He’s burying his face into the crook of your neck, wet skin hot from the water and gliding together. Jeff kisses along your neck, little pecks down your now-clean shoulders and across your chest until you could feel your cheeks warm. His hands roam your back, rough hands gliding across your wet skin and coaxing you closer.

Before his sneaky little touches can tug you too far, you’re pushing off, turning around to the water and resuming your wash. Jeff groans, frustration setting in.

“And what makes you think you deserve anything from me?”

You tease with a little shove, cleansing the last of the blood stains from your face and chest.

Jeff is quick to press against your back, his half-hard cock evident now as it presses firm against your ass. You tense, his hands finding their all-too-familiar place around your waist and pushing you closer to him, his chin resting on your shoulder as he speaks.

“Cause I know you’d much rather have me fawnin’ over you like this than you acting like you don’t want me, [Y/N]…”

He’s kissing against your shoulder again, fingers trailing across your abdomen and brushing just a little too low on your waistline. Your breath catches, head instinctively leaning back when he dares to brush his fingers across the inside of your thighs.

“I don’t have any more morning-after pills…”

It’s nearly a whisper, a hesitant confession as he fingers dance around your now-excited cunt, getting so close but so far. Goosebumps trail wherever his fingers lead, you hips instinctively pressing back against him the more he kisses along your skin.

Jeff’s shushing you, pulling your body back to press you against the shower wall, the cold tile making you jump.

“That’s alright. I’ve got it.”

You want to question, but when his fingers dip down through your puffy lips and find their way to your clit, you’re immediately lost as you fall back against his weight.

The pads of Jeff’s fingers slip across your clit, the bud pulsing with every swipe as he continues his assault on your neck. Your thighs part, the resistance and teasing you had earlier slipping away with every pulse of your excitement. He was always so good at that: finding some way to break your restraint and force his way in.

“Relax.”

You aren’t sure what he means until you feel the tip of his index finger begin to press against your asshole, the tight ring of muscle resisting as you jolt with shock. Your hands immediately reach back to grip is arm, body tensing up.

“Jeff-”

“Just relax, babe.”

The twinge of his fingers has you leaning forward onto the tiles, cheek pressed into the cool wall as you try your best to untense your body. Jeff works your clit, your cunt swelling with arousal as you feel the tip of his finger press in, your back arching against the initial sting.

He works slowly though, bending and curling his finger to untighten that ring of muscle until he eventually can press another one in, your jaw falling open when he tries to spread them further. He pumps them so slowly, more focused on tugging that muscle loose than getting deep.

“Fuck…”

Jeff grunts, his cock twitching something terrible as he watches his knuckles get caught on the rim of your asshole, a light tug pushing them back in, the walls sucking them in. You swell so nicely around him, the flush of your skin complimenting so nicely with his eager hands.

You’re burning up, clit jolting with every touch and abdomen swelling the deeper he tries to probe his digits. You can’t handle it, the stretching makes you dizzy and eager, your hips unable to press back far enough to make him get deeper.

“Jeff… Hurry up…”

He’s more ready than you are, heavy eyes trailing to your flushed face as he reads you, tugging his fingers out. You’re probably not stretched half as well as you need to be, but you’re both too horny and desperate to care.

You brace yourself, hands and chest pressing against the wall as Jeff takes your hips into his hands, fisting his cock as he lines himself up.

“Mhmm…”

The resistance as he pushes in is nauseating, your shoulders falling limp as Jeff grunts, his jaw flexing as he tries to get inside.

“Relax.”

It’s a command now, his fingers gripping tighter on your hips as you feel the muscle opening around his cockhead, your eyes rolling shut.

The sting has arousal gushing from your cunt as his tip pops in, the muscle wrapping tight around his girth. Jeff moans out, the tightness coaxing him to push his hips in further, but you’re just so tense.

You’re being hauled off the wall, cheek leaving the cold tile as you feel Jeff’s arms wrap tight around your center. His fingers slip quickly to your clit, digits pushing through the slick of your arousal and rubbing quickly onto your clit.

“C’mon, babe. Lemme fuck you…”

He’s tugging your body limp with your clit, his cock rutting ever-so-messily further and further into the clench of your asshole. He couldn’t get enough, his face and body tensing and jolting as he worked you loose, every whine and hiss from your lips coaxing him deeper.

“God, Jeff-”

You whine out, the fullness of him pulsing inside of you as your cunt aches, the emptiness beckoning you for more.

You’re both panting by the time he bottoms out, fingers swiping quick circles onto your clit while the sting of stretch slowly dissipates. The tug feels so good now, your back arching into the feeling as Jeff holds you close, every inch of skin touching like electric shocks.

You cry out when he tugs his hips back, grunting loudly as he ruts back in. You try your best to stay relaxed, feet slipping further apart to give him better access.

The restraint finally breaks when Jeff plunges his hips, snapping them quickly against your ass like he could break you. You’re reeling, hips dropping to arch further into the feeling, your mind straining as you feel the tenseness leave your body.

“Yeah… Yeah, there we go…”

Jeff’s nearly growling as he stuffs his cock back into your asshole, the swell of his cock gliding in and out the smoothest he can. You’re whining, crying out as you strain to take him, his fingers never letting up against your clit.

Jeff’s nose presses into your neck, breathing deep and nipping at your skin as he fucks you. You can’t focus, reeling against him as his fingers work between your thighs, the killer trying his hardest not to cum immediately. His body is pressed so close, frame swallowing you as he hunches closer, forcing you to bend forward.

But it’s too late, and you’re far too tight for him to last half as long as he does in your cunt. Your ass sucks him in, more force needed to pull out than if he just stayed bottomed out and rutted messily against your ass. The friction is addicting, the tug and stretch leaving you both whining and clawing at one another.

He does, and you’re nearly crying, the press against your cunt from the inside all gummy and nauseating as you feel Jeff’s pace wither. His fingers are desperate, swiping harshly against your clit until you’re leaning back, head falling onto his shoulder as his arms grip tight around your ribs. You gasp when you feel your heels lift from the shower floor, his strength rippling as he holds you up. Your legs dangle limply, hands gripping onto his arms as he tries to fuck up into you, your body too weak to hold yourself up.

“Feels good? Yeah? Gonna cum? Gonna give it to me?”

He’s blubbering behind you, egging you on through gritted teeth as he fucks the last of his restraint out, eyes gently fluttering back as he can feel his abdomen knotting impossibly tight. His jaw hangs, a long groan all that he can produce when you both finally tip over the edge.

Your vision flashes white when you’re cumming, your body falling convulsing and leaving Jeff to haul you up, trying his best to get the last few thrusts into your ass before he’s cumming too.

“Babe-”

He whines, your asshole squeezing him to a painful degree as he’s milked, stripes of hot cum gushing so deep inside of you. Your skin is so hot, the shower water cascading over the both of you and overheating your already burning skin.

You’re both panting, whining, and hissing with every final movement, every last inch of that overwhelming pleasure you can ride out. Jeff’s holding you tight, damp bodies locked together as the killer’s fingers slowly slip out from between your folds.

“Oh my god-”

Jeff is so slow to pull out, cautious for both of you as he strains to tug his swelled cockhead from your rim.

The sight is heavenly, your stretched hole pulsing and fluttering as Jeff watches his cum slowly seep out. He smiles, dipping his fingers to glide his seed back into your asshole, screwing his fingers in and watching your body jolt.

It takes no time for you both to finish up, standing limply under the water until you deemed each other clean and evenly exhausted. Shutting the water off, you lazily dry each other off, heavy eyes roaming over ruined bodies.

You dry the two of you off, Jeff’s head resting against your shoulder as he breathes slowly. There was no energy to put clothes back on, or even wash the ones on the bathroom floor as you both trek towards your bed. Your body is sore, back fluttering with pain as Jeff scoops you into the bed and makes his own way in as well.

“Don’t ever bring that shit back in the house again…”

You mumble, sleepiness creeping as Jeff holds you close and quietly chuckles.

“But look where it got me…”

You roll your eyes, smiling with exasperation as you both settle against one another, the lateness of the evening overtaking you both.

Maybe you didn’t mind a little mess.

He’d be the one cleaning it up tomorrow though.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thank you to my wonderful editors: @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[luveline]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel assumes you're mad when you stop initiating kisses and tries to get back on your good side —featuring grumpy but lovelorn miguel and his head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Gàn de piàoliang!" cheers the puppy at the bottom of your screen. Well done.

You smile at him and slide your finger across a lilac candy to make another three-match. 

The music playing from your phone quietens as a text lines the top of the screen. You click it as soon as you recognise the contact picture beside it, your handsome Miguel with a filter over his face that paints rosy pink hearts over his high cheeks. 

Finished. his text says. 

Miguel is a man of little words. Over the phone he talks even less, easier to draw blood from stone than harness a conversation with him that isn't in person. His text demarcates the wall of messages you sent him earlier, not wanting for a reply but bursting to tell him things as they happened. 

You put your phone down carefully. It's one of your most treasured possessions, shimmering and high tech, you can fold it down the middle to fit in your little spider suit pockets, though the amount of charms and beads hanging from it now impedes that particular functionality.

Miguel gave it to you as a gift without any fanfare around the time you started staying in his apartment in the society, and while your bunking with him was supposed to be temporary, the phone is for keeps. You've decorated it accordingly.

The best charm is a beaded translucent jellyfish, and not solely because it's beautiful: Miguel has a matching one that he showcases shamelessly. 

You rush into his neat bathroom and lean heavily on the counter, propping your hand on the faucet to hold your weight as you assess your reflection in the mirror. When you turn your face, your nose shines in the light. 

You decide it's best to wash up. Miguel will be back soon enough. 

You get distracted by skincare, toner pads resting on your cheeks when you hear the door opening. A waste to take them off prematurely, you pat them flat to your skin and meet Miguel in his bedroom half ready. 

"I can see why you didn't text me back," he says, giving you a quick glance from the corner of his eye as he walks past the bed and your waiting phone. He beelines for the kitchenette and disappears around the corner. "What do they do, the squares?" 

"They're calming, I think," you say, following his path from the bathroom to the small kitchen. 

His apartment is big but not huge. The main room is his bedroom, with enough space for a couch and a TV he never uses that comes out of the wall. To the right is a utility closet for storage and a walk-in wardrobe, and to the left lies the kitchen and the bathroom. It takes you all of ten seconds to be by his side. 

Bottles rattle as Miguel opens the fridge. He grabs sparkling water for himself and a fruit tea concoction for you. You hadn't followed him for that, but you accept it anyway. 

He looks tired. Tilting his head back to drink, you eye the stiff set to his shoulders and the way he rolls his arm out, orchestrating an offer for a massage in your head. 

Miguel squints at you. "What?" 

"What?" you ask back. 

He doesn't explain. He screws the lid back on to his water and closes the fridge. 

With his empty hand, Miguel reaches for your face. You stay very still in anticipation of his touch, imagining how he might take your cheek in his hand and pull you close, or perhaps curl thick, long fingers behind your neck and guide your chin up. He can be rough in odd ways, as though he's unaware of his strength. 

"It's slimy," he says in disgust, pulling a toner pad from your left cheek. 

"It's going to make my skin clearer." 

"There's nothing wrong with your skin." True or not, you know it's Miguel's way of being sweet. He takes the second toner pad too, tossing them in the trash with a huff. "That's better. You look normal. Or, as normal as possible." 

"Jerk!" you say through a smile, thinking now's the moment. 

But Miguel hasn't peeled away your skincare to kiss you. He pats a spot of dampness on your cheek away with the back of his hand and turns on his heel, gunning for a change of clothes and a shower, if you know him. "Drink your tea. Did you eat? Me preocupo por ti." 

You sigh and trail after him. "I was waiting for you to come back. It's Vietnamese week in the cafeteria, they're making cá kho tộ. Do you like that? It's sweeter than hake." 

"It's fish?" 

"Catfish. Caramelised catfish." You sit down on the bed, flipping your phone open to play your game while he decides. 

That, and to ignore the inkling of doubt blossoming like mould under heat in your chest. An achy sort of worry… 

Does Miguel not want to kiss you? 

"What's the other option? I don't like sweet foods." 

You knew that already. "You could make pasta?" you suggest. 

"You'd love that." 

"Are you teasing me?" 

Miguel pokes his head out of the wardrobe, and with it comes his naked chest. His muscles are insane, lean tanned stretches of cord pulled taut as he grabs a shirt. "I'm making an observation. You like carbs." 

"Everyone likes carbs, Miguel, especially Spiders." 

"I know, but I don't make anyone else dinner." He's definitely flirting now, his voice playful and soft. "I'll make you pasta if you want." 

Why hasn't he kissed you? Offering to make you dinner, smiling at you just as soon as his face has been pulled through his t-shirt. He's acting as affectionate as a man who'd like to kiss you without pulling through. 

Well, maybe you kiss him too much. Come to think of it, you initiate the vast, vast majority of kisses, and you must kiss him twice a day at least. Miguel clearly favours you, but it's possible he isn't interested in as much physicality as you and hasn't had the heart to say. He likes watching vintage movies at night and half the time you're not interested in those. You haven't said a word about it because things between you are new and you like his being happy watching the things he enjoys. Miguel could be doing the same, allowing hugs and kisses he doesn't necessarily want in order to avoid hurting your feelings. 

A favourite phrase of his cuts through your thinking, "¿Alguien en casa?" Anyone home?

"Oh, sorry, were you not getting enough attention?" you ask him, pretending to be more nonchalant than you are as you open the match game on your phone. 

The puppy barks hello. 

"Ah, you're a cómico now." Miguel sits on the bed beside you in sweatpants, reaching across the sheets to give your arm a shake. "I said, I'll make you pasta if you want pasta." 

"I want what you want," you say honestly. 

He stares at you. You're not sure what he's confused about. "Alright. Did you want it now?" he asks. 

"Yes, serf," you say, laughing when he knocks your phone out of your hand and stands in a dramatised annoyance. 

You play a couple levels of your game to give him space. He's quiet as he washes his hands and gets out the cookware, but he appears curious in the door, rag between his hands. "You're not gonna come and sit with me? I really am your maid." 

Eager for an invitation, you join him in the kitchen. You brace yourself behind you to hop onto the counter and find his hands on your hips, helping you up. 

Miguel meets your eyes as he does, not close but enough to beckon down for a kiss. You think about doing it. He might let you, his straight lashes pointed with his gaze, his eyes a heavy weight where they trace your features unhurried. 

"How come you didn't text me back earlier?" he asks. 

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting me to. I'm sorry, handsome, I was kind of grody–"

"Grody? I doubt that–" 

"–I figured I'd wash up before you got back." 

"So you were busy?" he asks, returning to the chopping board at the left of the stove. He picks up a glinting-sharp knife. "Not something else?" 

"No, why? Was I supposed to do something today?" 

Miguel begins slicing into a tomato, red skin splitting to reveal greener insides. "No. No, just wondering." 

You lean back against the wall, crossing a leg over your thigh. He's being kind of off. Your first impulse is to try and kiss it better but that directly fights your new theory. Being nice physically is far from your only weapon. 

"Did you have a good day?" you ask, and here's where you'd pull him close or sidle up behind him and twist his hair around your finger. "I was thinking about you a lot. Did the strike mission go okay?" 

"Fine. You didn't come see me, but it was fine." 

You eye him from the corner of your vision. He's still cutting up tomatoes, a pan of olive oil and minced garlic simmering between you. 

"I sent you all those photos," you say. 

One of the Peter's you hang around with got his arm stuck in a window after he said, "Is that a bad idea, do you think? I really wanna try," and Hobie said, "They can't stop you." 

The 'they' being unknown, Hobie was right. No one could stop Peter once he started climbing, but the window could certainly stop him from getting down. You'd sent Miguel pictures of his dangling body up in the atrium like a dark splodge, as well as a blurry photo of your face when you'd accidentally turned the camera. He responded to that one with a heart but the rest he didn't touch. 

"They got him down eventually," you continue, "but I had to stay for moral support! And to feed him popcorn so he didn't starve. Was it peaceful without me?"

"You know I like when you visit me, right?" he asks carefully. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah?" he mimics, waving his hand at you. "Can't deal with you. Get the cream from the fridge." 

You eat dinner as you and Miguel tend to do —you talk your way through it happily, smiling and joking, and he puts extra helpings on your plate when you aren't looking. 

The alien quality of what you're doing rears its head briefly. He's trying to stop the quasi apocalypse. You're willing to help, though you'd been more interested in Miguel and getting to know his enigma than your responsibilities. Weird how love makes you want to be better. 

"What was your course like?" Miguel asks, when the dishes have been set aside for washing and you've showered for the night. 

He's talkative tonight. 

"They taught us how to wield a baton," you say, climbing into his bed with a tired sigh. "One girl was crazy about it. She kind of looked like me…" You yawn, looking for his waist as he settles in the sheets and pillows next to you. "You're lucky I got my claws into you when I did. At least I'm not murderous. Much." 

Miguel covers your hand on his ribs. He squeezes your fingers together gently like he's collecting them under his palm for borrowing. 

"You didn't get your claws in me. I'm not easily led." 

"Course not," you snort. You actually agree with him, but he said it too seriously for bedtime. 

Miguel abandons your hand to pull you in, encouraging your head and upper chest onto his, hand coasting up and down the length of your arm lovingly. Firmly, like a massage, but adoring nonetheless. You languish in his touches and rub your lips, still tingling from spearmint, against the collar of his shirt gently. As indirect a kiss as you can manage, practically sick with longing after a day unkissed. 

"Are you mad at me?" he asks into the quiet.

You pause, fingers with a mind of their own as you take a long strand of hair that curls under his ear between them, combing it flat. "Why, have you done something?" you ask, hiding your confusion with a delighted lilt. 

"I've been trying to work that out." Frustration seeps into his voice, roughened syllables drawn tight, "But you're evasive." 

"I'm evasive," you say softly, tilting your head back to meet his eye. "Miguel, why do you think I'm mad at you? I'm not mad." 

Miguel glares at you. Brows furrowed, an especially formidable downturn to an otherwise pretty mouth, he looks as though he wants to start a fight with you, and as though he doesn't believe it. 

"I'm not mad," you insist, sitting up a little. 

"Then…" 

You scrunch your brows at him. "You've been thinking I was mad at you all day? Why didn't you say something, handsome?" 

He might roll his eyes at your pet name if he weren't knee deep in relief. You didn't know being mad at him was something he'd be sad with, and yet there he is lying beneath you, blowing a big enough exhale to ruffle the hair from his forehead. 

Miguel takes your face into one hand. Your eyelashes flutter against his palm like a shuddering butterfly wing as you lean into his touch, more than happy to offer him whatever relief it is he needs while enjoying in the feeling of being close to him. 

"You haven't kissed me all day," he says quietly. "I thought I must've pissed you off, 'cos you're more piranha than girl sometimes, but you weren't acting any weirder than usual beyond that." 

You roll your eyes and hide your face in his hand. He's kidding around, and his thumb rubs over your skin tenderly to prove it. 

"You're not mad?" he asks again. 

You kiss his palm. You kiss his wrist, happy when he knows the moves like a well practised dance, his fingers sliding behind your ear to steady you as you dip down for a kiss. 

It's a good kiss. Warm mouths vying for one another but trying not to seem desperate, Miguel's hand behind your ear growing harsher as you pull a breath against his lips. You press your hand into his pec too hard. 

"Sorry," you murmur, stealing another fast kiss and pulling away. 

You barely feel how uncomfortably you're skewed, you're that happy. 

"Is there a reason you wouldn't kiss me?" he asks. 

"I'm, like, always the first one to initiate and I kinda got it in my head maybe you didn't want me kissing you that much…" You grin at him. "The whole time you're playing twenty questions with me wishing I'd lay one on you. You know you have a voice for more than yelling at people, right?" 

Miguel gets this look in his eyes then, rolling his jaw a touch at the supposed audacity of what you've said. The tip of his tongue works at his canine tooth, his eyebrows rising as he asks, "Oh, is that how you're talking to me tonight?" 

"How else should I talk to you, Miguel?" 

He doesn't bother with swiftness nor a show of strength as he rolls you onto your back. He settles above you with measured movements, a pleased smirk playing on his lips now. His eyes are dark, pupils wide as dimes.

"With compassion, mi cielo," he says.

"Have some sympathy for me," you implore him, wrapping your arms around his waist. It diffuses the tension, though neither party minds, evidenced by Miguel's easy relaxation and your ecstatic mood. Happiness bubbles up like carbonated bubbles, your chest awake with a fizzing excitement. "You really thought I was mad 'cos I wasn't kissing you?" 

He avoids the question. "You think you're the only one who initiates?" he asks genuinely. 

"Why didn't you kiss me, then? When you came home?" 

"Your face was wet." 

"And after when we were eating dinner?" 

Miguel smiles at you. No sarcasm, no stress. He leans down to kiss you chastely, pulling away to say, "I thought you were definitely mad at that point." 

"A kiss would've made me feel better." 

You realise how quiet your bubble of the world really is for that handful of seconds, Miguel holding himself above you, your hands loose behind the broad stretch of his back. 

"You know you can just ask me, yeah? You don't have to worry and wonder how I'm feeling. I'll tell you how I'm feeling if you want to know." 

"Cariño, I always want to know," he says. 

You breathe out slowly. Miguel takes your face into his hand for another kiss, or so you think —he pinches your cheek. 

"And I always want to kiss you," he says quickly, climbing off of you. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I need a drink." 

A break from sincerity. You don't mind that he needs to walk it off as long as he comes back. You stretch out on your back and cover your face with your hands. 

"People think I'm the weird one," you say into them.

A hand clamps around your ankle and tugs you down. You shriek with startled laughter and climb away from him as he lands on top of you, a cold water bottle held to your bare neck. 

"No!" you laugh. 

Miguel laughs in tandem and presses it further down. 

"I really am going to be mad at you if you don't quit!" You yelp as condensation wets your collar. "Miguel!"

"You're a wimp," he says with a bright smile. 

You push him with some enhanced super strength and manage to get the water bottle off of your neck, but Miguel makes up for any differences in strength with enthusiasm and muscle alike, shoving you down. 

You're laughing and pleading at the same time, "Please, Miguel, stop, it's sooooo cold." 

Miguel laughs, dropping the bottle somewhere above your head, covering the cooled stripe of your skin with his big hand. The sound is warming enough, but you let him sweat for a second, content to be doted on. 

He gives you a once over. "I'll kiss you first more," he promises. 

"Starting now, please, handsome. Mi cielo." 

Miguel groans and digs his arms under your back. You don't fight it as he drags you back to the top of the bed. In fact, you quite enjoy it. You lay back to receive his sorry pecks and his all encompassing hug, forgetting what you'd been worried about one damp crescent moon of a kiss at a time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

[ninetailedruby]

The Thunderbolts* reacting to reader being pregnant?? Could be platonic or romantic! 🤍

@amoebadue I love this thank you for the request! Went kinda hard for Yelena's part because that's my girl 💜

Warnings: Established relationships, pregnant reader, very minor angst in Yelena’s part.

Yelena

When Yelena got home she was so exhausted she couldn't think straight. Her head is pounding and all she can think about is getting into bed and holding you in her arms. When she makes her way to your room and doesn't immediately see you she huffs and plops down onto the bed, jostling something onto the floor. She lifts her head to peer over and reaches down to pick up the object and looks at it in confusion, it's a white box with a red ribbon tied in a bow around it. When you walk in, a smile on your face, she tilts her head.

"Open it."

She pulls the ribbon apart and lifts the lid, looking inside and when she sees the stick with two red lines down the center her heart nearly stops. You almost panic because her gaze is so intense, fixated on the test. What if she changed her mind? What if she doesn't want this anymore? What if... Your thoughts are interrupted when her raspy voice calls to you.

"Is this real?”

Her voice is pensive, unsure and shaky. When you nod you see the tears form in her eyes, the way her hand reaches for her own stomach and rests right above the scar. She's on her feet and in front of you in an instant, her forehead pressed to yours. One of her hands reaches for your abdomen. Never in a million years did she think that she would get to have this, to have a family of her own. In that moment she decides that no matter what, she'd go down swinging for the both of you.

Bob

You fiddle with the gift bag on the table, picking it up and setting it back down. You and Bob have the tower to yourselves tonight and this needs to be perfect. You're about to move it again but stop when you hear the elevator ding. The doors open a few seconds later and when he smiles at you your heart flutters, reminding you that no matter how you tell him he's still going to love you anyway. He stops at the other end of the table.

"What's all this?"

You push the bag towards him and he reaches inside, pulling out a shirt with the words "World's Best Dad". He reads it aloud to himself and you wait anxiously for him to react, to say something. It takes him a moment but when he looks at you there's tears in his eyes and his hands are clutching onto the shirt, like he's afraid this is all a dream and he's going to wake up any minute. His voice cracks.

"I'm gonna be a dad?"

Ava

When she knocked on your door and didn't hear an answer she let herself in. She didn't see you so she assumed you were still out on a mission and she knew you wouldn't mind her going into your bathroom to borrow some toothpaste. She turns on the faucet and mindlessly looks around at some of your stuff while she brushes her teeth. There's a few personal touches you've added along with what looks to be a nearly dead plant on the edge of the sink. She rolls her eyes and walks over to grab the plant but is stopped in her tracks by what she sees in your trashcan. There's not one, not two, but three pregnancy tests that all read positive. She's about to go find you when the door swings open and in you walk, a fourth box in hand.

"You must really have trust issues if the first three weren't convincing enough"

Her brow is raised and there's the usual sarcastic edge to her voice you've grown to love but you don't miss the hint of a smile on her lips. She steps closer and grabs your hand, bringing to her lips and kissing the back of it softly.

Bucky

You don't know yet how you're going to tell Bucky that you're pregnant, what if he doesn't want kids? He's said that he does, that he wants a family with you but what if he doesn't actually? What if those were just words said in the heat of the moment, meant only if you two lived in an ideal world? That morning you find him stood in the kitchen, reading some report and drinking his coffee, and you just stare at him for a long time. He clears his throat.

"Morning baby-"

"I'm pregnant"

You blurt out without thinking and for a moment you regret it because he doesn't say anything. He just looks straight ahead at you but then he smiles, a big toothy grin and he strides over and sweeps you into his arms. He spins you around before setting you softly back onto your feet all the while the smile never leaves his lips.

John

You adjust your chair, squeaking loudly. You still haven't decided how you're going to tell John but you already know no matter how you tell him he's going to be happy. The two of you have been trying for months so when you missed your period a few weeks ago you knew. You'd been trying to keep a low profile just in case, not wanting to get his hopes up until you knew for sure and this morning when you went to the doctor you got your confirmation. You were going to tell him tonight but how to bring it up...

"What can I get you two to drink?"

Your waiter interrupts your thoughts and John is about to order your usual when you shake your head and speak up, telling him you'll just do a water. He nods and walks off. John looks at you funny. You can see the gears clicking in his head and before he even says anything you know he knows.

"You're sure?"

When you nod you can see his eyes light up. He doesn't care about the eyes staring at your two when he rises from his chair and gently grabs your face, pulling you in for a tender kiss that reminds you why you fell in love with him, that this is the man you want to spend your life with and raise a family with.

[aquanutech]

The 4N1 Aqua-System – Best all-in-one kitchen faucet with pull-down spray and water filter offers instant hot and filtered water in an environmentally conscious and all-encompassing kitchen solution. This innovative system seamlessly combines a full-flow faucet, filtration faucet, instant hot water dispenser, and filtration system, achieving a perfect balance of form and function with its transitional design. For the best aqua system, choose AquaNuTech. 

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eight

Steve slices the apple into four parts, and then retrieves the clock from the hallway; this one will be best, there’s no glass or anything, so he can just force the hands around with his fingers. Eddie sits on a stool at the breakfast bar, watching Steve and waiting patiently.

“Okay buddy, what time does it say?”

“Four,” Eddie says confidently. Nice and easy that one, because Steve has the little hand on the four and Eddie has grasped to look at the little hand first pretty fast.

“Okay so,” Steve puts down the clock, and holds the pieces of apple together to make it whole. “This is a full apple, yeah? One. It’s whole.”

“Whole apple.”

“Right, so now, how many?”

Steve pulls the pieces apart so he has two slices held together in each hand, “two.”

“That’s right, but It’s also half.”

“Half.”

“Yeah, whole apple. One apple. Two slices. Half an apple.”

“Half an apple.”

“Right, so,” Steve puts the apple slices down, letting them split, and moves the big hand down to six, “half four.”

Eddie moves the apple pieces around, frowning, “half four. Two,” he points.

“Yeah, with counting. On the clock. Time. This is half past four.”

Eddie frowns at the clock again. He shakes his head.

“Okay, so,” Steve spreads out the apple slices, “four. Four quarters,” then he moves the big hand around the clock face again, “quarter past four, half past four, quarter to five.”

Eddie frowns again, face scrunching a little bit, and Steve can sense the distress from Eddie, upset that he doesn’t understand.

“Half, two,” he volunteers.

Steve sighs, “yeah buddy, but-”

“No! Half two!” And then Eddie picks up two apple quarters and shoves them in his mouth, presumably to make the problem go away, crumbs of apple and juice dripping messily onto his chin as Eddie chews manically with his pointy teeth.

The kitchen dims a little, thick clouds scudding over the sun. Steve looks out of the window, it’s suddenly dark.

Red lightning flashes.

Eddie moves, leaning over the counter to slide a knife from the block, “half. Two.” He says, pressing the tip of the knife to his tail; black, thick blood wells up and starts to drip, and Steve stands frozen.

Eddie's eyes catch the light strangely, flashing silver, then they glow red as lightning crashes, “it’s for the best, Steve-”

Steve wakes with his heart pounding and a scream trapped in his throat; he feels like he can’t breathe, all of his body shaking and not obeying him, the sheets and blankets tangled around his legs. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he pants to himself, finally getting out of bed.

The light in the bathroom makes him feel better and he splashes his face and then drinks a little water right from the faucet. He sighs deep, just a dream.

Just a dream.

It takes ten minutes before Steve feels better but...even though it doesn’t make any sense at all, he needs to check. He just has to see Eddie, just for a second, to make sure he’s okay. Then he’ll come back to bed and everything will be fine.

Even though it’s completely fucking irrational, and Steve knows it is, he checks the knife block first; everything is set in it’s little slot, nothings missing...which, of course it isn’t. Of course it’s fine. He’s just being ridiculous.

The kitchen looks completely normal, even if it does feel a little sinister in the dark. Steve tells himself again that it’s just a dream.

The lounge is only illuminated by the moonlight from outside, but it’s enough to make out the curled up lump that is Eddie, sleeping on the couch.

Steve breathes a sigh of relief, even as he tells himself he’s being ridiculous.

“Stee?” It must have been enough to wake him, and Steve watches as Eddie’s head, somehow, pops out from amongst the tangled ball of tail and today's blue sweater. Steve’s let him have four and washes them on rotation. They don’t come completely clean – the grass stains are impossible, and the bottom edges are already ruinously frayed, but it’s fine, they’re only sweaters.

“Sorry, Buddy I...I had a nightmare.”

“Night...mare..?”

“Yeah a uhm,” Eddie shifts, and Steve sits next to him on the couch, “a bad dream, you know when you’re asleep?”

Eddie nods, “sleep, dark,” he points to the outside.

“Yeah, right so...do you ever see things, when you're asleep?” Eddie cocks his head, “like, uhm, TV. Like watching TV,” and Steve taps the side of his head.

Eddie takes Steve’s wrist, pulling his hand away, nodding furiously, “dark TV,” he uses Steve’s hand to tap the side of his own head, “many. Many all.”

“You dream? Every night?” Eddie nods. “What do you...what do you dream about?”

Eddie frowns, so Steve gets up, retrieving colored pencils and a larger notebook, he flicks on a lamp. Steve sits back next to Eddie, and using his woefully inadequate drawing skills, he makes out a couple of withered, spiky trees, shades the sky dark, draws swirls of black on the floor and a crackle of red lightning across the sky, “do you dream of this?”

Eddie’s mouth pops open, eyes wide with terror, he taps the paper urgently, “Stee? Stee in?? Many??”

“Yeah… Stee in, but not many.”

“Stee no! Stee not safe!” Eddie taps the paper, “Stee no! Bad bad!” Eddie's clearly horrified by the thought of Steve in The Upside Down.

“I won’t buddy okay, no more,” Steve taps the page, “finished.”

That seems to placate Eddie, he sits back, staring still at what Steve’s drawn, “dark TV,” he says quietly.

Steve gets his pencil and draws a stick figure with curly hair and a long pointed tail, he draws a little arrow and writes, ‘Eddie’, next to it, “Eddidie?”

“Yeah,” Steve tells him, “we call this place The Upside Down. That’s where you come from, The Upside Down.”

“The upside Down. Stee come from?”

“Hawkins Indiana.”

“Hawkins Indiana.”

“Yeah Buddy, that's where we are now. That’s what this place is called. Listen,” Steve draws another stick figure with a tail near to Eddie on the paper, “are there more like you there?” Steve taps his little drawing. Then he draws another stick figure mermaid, just for good measure.

“Yes.”

“Many?”

“Many many.”

“Do you...miss them?”

Eddie tilts his head.

“Okay Buddy, you and me, we’re friends,” Eddie nods, “and the kids. Birdie. Jon, Nancy. They’re our friends.” Steve taps the page again, “friend?”

Eddie shakes his head, “no,” he purses his lips, looks around, thinking, “Stee...pear, celery, grape?”

“Yeah, I know, food. That’s food.”

“Food...no many food in Upside Down.” Eddie taps the page, then hisses, clawing and biting the air a little.

“Fight. You had to fight them for food?”

“Fight. Yes,” Eddie takes the pencil and aggressively scribbles out the other two stick figure mermaids, Steve can’t help but chuckle.

“Well, you don’t have to fight anyone here buddy. No fight. All the pears are Eddie’s.”

Steve wakes up to something tickling his nose and something else digging viciously into his ribs. He feels a little attacked considering it’s first thing in the morning. He blinks awake, shifting, and his back screams at him.

Well fuck. The couch might look fancy, and it might be alright for sitting on, but it’s shit for sleeping on.

Especially when you’ve got a bony as fuck fish guy sleeping on you, “hi Eddie.”

“Hi Stee,” Eddie replies into the front of Steve’s shirt.

“Any more bad dreams?”

“No. No bad dreams. Stee good,” and Eddie pats Steve’s chest, “Stee dream?”

“No buddy, I’m all good too. But...if you do have bad dreams, you should come find me, okay? If you want to.”

“Stee find Eddidie?”

Which, yeah, Steve guesses, that is what happened last night, “yeah Buddy, like that.”

Eddie shifts again, and Steve realizes that it’s Eddie’s bony fucking elbows that might be trying to stab him in the guts, “we should get up,” and Eddie does, sitting up with no regard for the fact that means he’s sitting right on Steve’s lap – and his morning wood.

Eddie wriggles.

“Right, nope,” Steve sits, spreading his legs so that Eddie falls through and gets dumped onto the couch cushion, letting Steve slide away and stand up, “I’m going to go shower.”

“And Eddidie?”

“Yup, but you can go after me,” Steve is telling him, as Eddie follows him up the stairs.

That night, Steve isn’t even really asleep yet when he hears the quiet noise of Eddie making his way up the stairs. The soft susurration of Eddie moving across the carpet, and then the door being pushed the rest of the way open.

Steve lifts the covers, inviting Eddie in, “but take that off, it’s got dirty today,” Eddie does, pulling off the jersey and climbing in, lying face to face with Steve.

“Hi Stee,” Eddie whispers.

Steve smiles, “hi buddy,” he whisper back, “bad dream?”

Eddie nods.

“What about? Tell me?”

“Tell...dream?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie thinks, biting his lip a little, probably trying to work out how to explain it. Eventually he volunteers, “in Upside Down.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, because he figured as much.

Slowly, Eddie brings both hands up. He puts his palms on his cheeks, then covers his face with interlocked fingers. Steve has a mounting sense of horror; already certain he knows where this is going.

Slowly, Eddie lifts them, unlacing his fingers, like the spread of petals on his face.

“Demogorgon,” Steve whispers.

“Eddidie is food.”

Steve can’t really express the sheer amount of horror the thought fills him with, so he just pulls Eddie into a hug instead, “you’re safe now buddy. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Steve actually manages to fall asleep alright with Eddie’s tail wrapped around his legs, and if he dreams, he doesn’t remember it, coming awake to the now familiar sound of a chair being dragged across the kitchen floor.

Steve heads downstairs to see what Eddie’s up to; he’s at the bottom step when the smell of coffee hits him, and he vaguely wonders if Robin or someone is here.

No. Just Eddie. He’s seen Steve work the coffee machine enough times to work it out for himself, obviously, and there’s a full cup waiting ready on the counter. On the table there’s a plate with a piece of dry toast on it, but there’s a jar of jelly from the fridge. A half full bowl of cereal (no milk) and a single pear.

“Eddie...did you make me breakfast?”

Eddie grins at him, and Steve just about rescues the mug of coffee from him before Eddie tries to make it across the kitchen one handed.

“Buddy this is...so good. Thank you so much.”

Part Ten

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

@beebeechaos

@ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword

@quakeroaksguy

@waves-against-a-cliff

@depressed-but-make-it-cute

[reaperexe]

Neighbor ♡𓂃⋆.˚

Summary : When you move into a shady neighborhood, you don’t expect to fall for the man next door.

warnings : none, just fluff.

divider credits : @/cafekitsune

If someone would've asked you about your dream house you would've definitely described something picturesque something out of movies and books definitely not the tiny apartment you just rented out in the middle of the shady neighborhood.

It was run-down, probably a few leaks and bad plumbing but nothing you couldn't fix or find someone to fix but hey, at least the rent was cheap.

When you decided to move out of your parents house and finally get your own home you definitely didn't consider how difficult that would be considering your pay and your absolute refusal to take your parents pretty penny for anything.

Sighing audibly you set down your last box in the house, stretching to relieve the dull ache in your limbs.

You pulled out your phone to check your to do list with most of the checkboxes ticked, except for 'buy cleaning products'. You looked up to see the dusty counters and cabinets and sighed grabbing your car keys.

The drive to the store was short and quick as you picked up what you needed. When you returned home however, you saw him.

The tall man with broad shoulders, wearing a black wife beater and black jacket and skinny black jeans. He was built like a tank, his muscles outlining through his clothes, standing there with a plastic bag containing what looked like a tv dinner and a can of beer.

He seemed to be staring at something, your doormat to be exact. The rainbow doormat with the words "welcome in" written on it before he ultimately peeled his eyes away and opened the door next to yours.

Wait? That's your neighbor?!?.

You knew you lived somewhere dangerous but didn't know the danger would live right next to you. The man looked like he could knock someone out with one hit. It would be best to steer clear of him for now.

You spent the next few days turning the place into a home or as close as you can get to that with how you dealt with leaking faucets and peeling paint off the walls .

You called people for what you couldn't fix but when it came to giving your location on where they had to come work, the call always ended on similar lines "oh i can't work there", "oh actually I just realized I'm busy then".

You weren't dumb you could tell nobody wanted to come work in a area full of shady people, hell you wouldn't want to work there either but you needed those faucets fixed somehow.

The next time you ran into your bear of a neighbor was when you were watching him again on your way back from work. He held a toolbox this time, there seemed to be grease on his cheeks which had been wiped haphazardly by him.

'He looked like he could fix a few faucets' you thought, no wait shut up no way that man was going to fix anything in your house.

You ignored him again when he walked by your door and peered down at your doormat and now the little plant next to it and gave a smile. he smiles?!?.

You were stubborn for a week, refused to go to him for help and watched whatever youtube tutorials you could to DIY your way through this.

Now you sat with a brand new set of tools, half of which you didn't even know to work and a glass of wine you sipped to stay sane.

An hour into the mess and you could finally say you give up, so you stand up, march to the kitchen, fill a casserole of your signature lasagna and walk out of your door and over to his.

"Deep breaths" you sigh to yourself before mustering up your courage and ringing the doorbell. It takes beat and your mind yelling at you to turn around and screaming this a bad idea until the door creaks open.

Infront of you stands the same man you watched a couple times definitely not like a stalker. He's wearing grey sweats and a faded t-shirt, eventually your eyes travel upwards to his face where he stares down at you smirking, definitely noticing the way you causally checked him out.

"Can I help you, birdie?" He asks with a baritone drawl.

God you wanted to dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it.

"Hi, I'm your neighbor" you say trying to keep your voice as calm and collected as possible.

"I can see that" he smirks. God this was humiliating.

"I brought you this" you say thrusting the casserole his way "it's my signature lasagna" you say with a smile.

He takes the dish from you giving you a amused smirk, he could tell from your face you probably needed something but wouldn't say it.

"Thank you" he says as you stand there not uttering a word, frozen on what to say next, not like you didn't rehearse this a hundred times earlier just to forget all your words when he opened the door.

"Can i help you, love?" He asks. You ignore the term of endearment before speaking "um yes actually.." you say embarrassed.

"Can you fix faucets?" You ask sheepishly which draws a chuckle from him.

"Sure thing sweetheart, how about first thing tomorrow morning?" He asks leaning against his door. "Or do you want me to fix it now?" He asks standing up straighter again, ready to walk to your house to fix the issue himself.

"No! No, tomorrow morning works fine" you say eyes widening, no way did you want him to come over and see your little DIY disaster and half drunk bottle of wine.

He takes a step back raising his brows in amusement. "Ok noted love" he says.

You bid your farewell and he ends it with a "sleep well birdie" making sure you've entered your apartment and shut the door before he shut his.

He shows up first thing in the morning like he promised while you're still sipping on your morning coffee. He's dressed the same as usual in his grey sweatpants and another faded t-shirt.

He steps inside your home with an air of dominance with his toolbox in hand though you had set out your own set of tools which you had bought. They only earned a "tsk" from him before he started working with his tools.

"It's a easy fix, dove" he says after assessing the damage making you sigh and deflate audibly earning another chuckle from him.

He's way more efficient than you and gets to work immediately making small talk the whole time, casually flirting with you.

"So will I be bribed with more food next time something needs fixing?" He chuckles.

"Ha ha very funny" you roll your eyes crossing your arms.

It sure was a sight for sore eyes watching him work under your sink with his shirt raising upwards revealing the muscles underneath.

"See something you like?" He asks as he catches you staring making your cheeks flush as you quickly avert your gaze.

"Hey no shame in it" he shrugs chuckling at you. "I don't mind being stared at, especially when it's a pretty birdie such as yourself" he smirks.

"Tell me dove, did you try to fix this yourself?" He asks looking over at your tools.

Your face burns in embarrassment as you nod "yeah I did". He laughs before answering "yeah i can tell" he says.

"What did you even use that for?" He laughs pointing at the random long nose plier you had lying around making you roll your eyes at his teasing.

"There we go birdie, all fixed" he says standing back up and dusting his hands off after a while.

"Your lasagna was very delicious by the way" he says leaning against your counter.

"Thanks, I owe you one for this" you smile at which he smirks.

"You think?" He asks "well I know of a repayment" he says eyeing you.

"We've got the whole day ahead of us" he says lifting himself of the counter to take a few steps towards you, cornering you against the cabinets.

He places his arm over your head looking down at you "let me take you out on a date birdie" he says smiling at you.

You could feel your heart doing backflips at his smile, god how could this man be built like this but be such a charmer.

You nodded meekly at him as he tsked. "Use your words angel" he says.

"Can i take you out on a date?" He asks again.

"Yeah you can" you nod cheeks flushing as he leans down by your ear "ok I'll come pick you up" he says before stepping back and packing up his tools.

He winks at you on his way out "wear something pretty" he says before stepping out of your door closing it behind him.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x wife!fem!reader

Summary: When your sister's new mystery fiancé is someone you know from university, your husband isn't very happy.

Genre: fluff and hurt and comfort

Warnings: protective!Tangerine, reader is pregnant, mentions of stalking, knife/gun wounds, swearing, suggestive ending.

~ thank you to the anon who requesting this! ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

"Ah," you groan, burning yourself on the saucer as you transfer the pasta into the strainer over the sink. Your husband, who'd just finished setting the table to his liking, peeks his head inside the kitchen. 

"You ok, luv?" he asks, coming over and guiding your hand to the faucet where he turns on the cool water, "All better, yeah?" he asks, almost mocking in the kindest way and he kisses the crown of your head as the water runs over your wounded palm. 

"My poor girl," Tangerine is really laying it on thick now as he kisses behind your ear. "D'ya need me to finish up here?"

You turn, looking up at him, and nod, "Would you? They're coming over at nine and I haven't even showered or changed—and the warmth is making me feel all woozy." You emphasize this point by fanning at your face with your wet hand, water droplets cooling your skin, and Tangerine cups his hand over your stomach. 

"'Course my darlin'. What an awful husband I am havin' ya cook while you're pregnant. I'm sorry, my luv," he says genuinely, ignoring your attempt to remind him you'd wanted to make the meal since it's your sister's favorite, as he practically shoos you away. 

"I'll call ya down when they've arrived, hm?" 

You nod, smiling as you make your way up the stairs to shower and change for dinner.

As the oldest, you've always been protective over your sister. Andy had this tendency to jump into situations impulsively and when she'd called and gushed over her new fiancé, you had been slightly concerned for her considering she'd gotten engaged within just four months of meeting him. 

So, with Tangerine's approval, you had invited them both over for dinner. 

Once you finish adjusting your dress in the mirror, you make your way downstairs and smile at the familiar sound of Andy's rambling.

The room smells like the spaghetti you'd started and Tangerine had finished, and you see that he has poured both Andy and her fiancé a glass of wine.

He hasn't poured one for himself considering he doesn't drink when you don't. 

Seeing you, Andy instantly squeals and rushes up to pull you into her arms. "Oh my, just look at you," Andy exclaims and looks at your dress, which shows your baby bump, "You been taking good care of my darling sister?" She looks at Tangerine with a light-hearted frown and points at him accusingly. 

"Mmhm, only the best for my darlin'," Tangerine smirks and moves closer so he can kiss your cheek. You feel all warm and fuzzy inside as you smile at your husband. You're too preoccupied with your happiness to fully hear Andy introduce her new fiancé until Tangerine nudges your shoulder and you look up at your sister's future husband. 

You're happy you hadn't been holding a wine glass because it would have fallen onto the ground instantly.

"This is Oliver," Andy says, hugging him closely as she draws hearts on his chest. The man is tall and slim and he has dusty blond hair. His eyes, which the blue reminds you of Tangerine's, are piercing into yours and you shudder. 

You know him. 

Tangerine can see your discomfort and he squeezes your hand. He doesn't mention it. He doesn't want to make a scene and he's distracted by Oliver shaking his hand. "Hi," Oliver then moves his hand to you and he continues to stare. You feel sick but you know you have to shake his hand anyway.

"Hi," you answer and strain a smile.

Andy jumps in immediately with a new topic of conversation, happily introducing the man she loves to you and Tangerine. You feel like you're underwater as you stare at Oliver and all those memories; of the bundles of flowers and the endless phone calls swarm and drown you. 

Tangerine's hand in yours is the only thing now keeping you above water.  

"Excuse me," you say early into dinner as Tangerine finishes serving everyone some pasta. You've barely sat down but you suddenly feel sick to your stomach so you rush to the bathroom.

After only a moment, you hear your husband's worried voice from behind the bathroom door. 

"My luv, are you alright in there? Is everything okay?" he calls and raps on the door with his knuckles. 

You let him in instantly, your eyes round as you pull him inside the bathroom. Tangerine stumbles inside and looks you up and down with confusion. 

"The baby's okay," you reassure him breathlessly and his expression softens.

"I didn't ask if the baby was okay," he says gently but places his hand on your stomach as a way to show he's grateful the baby is okay, "I asked if you were okay, my heart." 

You look up at him, holding in your frustrated tears. "I know Oliver," you whisper. 

Tangerine frowns but he understands what you mean. "You do?" 

You nod and start to explain. "Yeah, I know him from university. We were classmates freshman year and then—it became weird. Remember that stalker I had? It's him. He was obsessed with me and would ask me out numerous times and when he finally asked for my number, he wouldn't stop calling and following me around. The university got involved and he left junior year. I haven't heard or seen him since but Tan, I know it's him. I just know," you sound scared and your husband hates the sound.

"Sweetheart," he says and pulls you in closer, his hands cupping your cheeks. "I believe you, darlin'. You wouldn't lie about something like this. What do you need me to do? Should I kick him out–or—"

"No!" you lean your head on Tangerine's chest, sighing as you clutch at his shirt, "Andy clearly loves him. I can't ruin this for her."

Tangerine's hand rests against the back of your head, his thumb soothing in your hair. "But, if he makes you uncomfortable—"

You interrupt him, "I can deal with one dinner and then I'll tell Andy about all this privately. It has to be her decision, okay?"

"I do not want your stalker as our brother-in-law, Y/n," Tangerine says sternly. 

"It's not about us! It's about Andy and– please can you pretend I didn't tell you anything tonight?" you say, "And I'll pretend I don't remember him."

Tangerine can see the determination in your eyes. He wants to protest and tell you you don't have to go through with this dinner but he can tell you want to protect your sister more than yourself and he knows he has to respect that.

So, he puts on his best fake smile as you both return to the table. Tangerine hates pretending like this, especially because now he's overanalyzing every look Oliver is sending you. His blood boils even more when Olicer asks you, 

"How far along are you?"

How dare that bastard ask about his baby?  

You take a bite from your fork and strain a smile, nudging Tangerine's calf to convince him to stay quiet as you answer the question. "Almost six months now," you say and Oliver uses this as an opportunity to look you up and down which makes you visibly tense. 

"Yeah, my darlin' has been a real trouper," Tangerine fakes a laugh at Oliver's question and rolls up his sleeves, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your cheek. You know what he's doing instantly because you've seen the number of bullet wounds grazes and knife slashes he has on his forearms, as well as the tattoos that cover his skin. 

He's intimidating Oliver and by the look on the poor man's face, it's working. 

"And she has me to help 'er, right, luv?" He smiles and tilts his head in Oliver's direction, drumming his hand on the table as he brings attention to the scars there and the amount of rings he's wearing—especially his wedding band.   

Oliver stares at you less after that. 

As you say your goodbyes to Andy, you tell her you'll call her later, and then smile politely at Oliver—who doesn't say much to you or Tangerine and once your front door is shut you turn around and narrow your eyes at your husband. 

"I saw what you did," you say and Tangerine raises his arms in mock confusion. He winks and then starts to clear the table. You follow him, trying to do the same but he sends you a look and you retaliate, instead leaning against the kitchen counter as you watch him.

 "You didn't need to show him your scars like that. Andy doesn't know what you do for a living, remember?" you sigh. 

Tangerine hums, "I wasn't showing them to her," he shrugs and loads up the dishes into the dishwasher. 

"I wanted that bastard to know what I would do to him if he even considered hurting you again. I wanted him to know what I'm capable of," he finishes.

You sit down on a chair, holding your stomach and you sigh. Tangerine turns to look at you over your shoulder, "Ya okay, darlin'?" he asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he walks over and kneels in front of you, his hands on your knees. 

You nod. "I'm just a little tired," you whisper.

Tangerine caresses your cheeks. "See, this is why I had to intimidate the bastard. You were under unnecessary stress and that makes him a threat to everything I hold dear," he whispers and kisses your stomach over your dress. "Ya know I won't let anyone hurt you, luv, yeah?"

"I know," you say, running one of your hands in his curls and twisting one in your finger as you contemplate admitting this. "I did think it was hot," you admit, "Seeing you show off your arms like that."

Your husband's grin widens. "Yeah?" 

You glare at him and suppress a smile. "Oh, don't get a big head about it, you prat." 

Tangerine laughs and stands up, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He straightens up and flexes his muscles, sending you a playful wink. "Is this making ya all hot and bothered for me?"

You shake your head but the way you're staring at him says otherwise. Tangerine helps you stand, smirking as he sees that look in your eyes. He knows your pregnancy sometimes makes you hornier than usual and he can read your moods easily now. 

"Want me to make the ache go away?" he teases and kisses your cheek. 

You laugh breathlessly and wrap your arms around his neck. "Okay," you say and then look at him seriously, "But you're doing all the work. I just wanna lay there," you pout, "I'm tired."

Tangerine smiles and nods, "Such a princess," he teases and then succumbs to your wishes, "But anything for you, luv'."   

[hees-mine]

THE HANDY MAN - L. HS

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, anal fingering, cursing, flirting.

WC: 2,750k

-

A ring on your doorbell prompts you to set the cup of tea you were drinking down on your living room coffee table.

For a moment, you squint your brows together, wondering who is at your door.

But it quickly came to you you had made an appointment last week for the leaky pipe under your sink to be fixed. It’s been bugging you for a while now, and you finally made time to get it repaired.

You turn down the volume of the TV series you are watching and hop off the couch.

Walking over to the door, you comb your fingers through your messy hair and straighten out your shorts and tank top to make yourself look presentable.

You unlocked the door and twisted the knob pulling it back and revealing a repair man in a navy blue jumpsuit and a toolbox in his left hand. “Hi!” You chirp, greeting him with a warm smile.

He nods, offering you a smile as well. “Hello, so I hear you have a pipe that needs fixing.”

“You heard right,” you laugh softly and unintentionally bite down on your bottom lip as you eye him up and down. You weren’t expecting him to be so young and look so good. Even in the unflattering work uniform, he was still extremely handsome.

“Well then, mam, you called the right place. I’ll do everything in my power to get that taken care of for you today,” he says while lifting his toolbox slightly.

You open the door wide enough to let him enter, and you close it shut behind him while he stands by, waiting for you to lead the way. “This way,” you mutter while walking to the kitchen and stopping at your sink.

You bent over, opening the cabinet doors, and moving around some pots and pans you had stored under there. “Sorry about the mess,” you grunt softly, shuffling everything to the side so he has ample space to work in.

“No worries, take your time,” he speaks up behind you, shamelessly staring at your ass that’s poked out right for his eyes to feast on. Maybe his mind was in the gutter, but if he’s not mistaken, you stayed down there just a little bit longer than you needed to allow him to stare even longer, but he’s definitely not complaining.

“There,” you huff, standing up and blowing a strand of hair out of your face. “It’s that one right there.” You turn on the faucet, pointing to the pipe, and he sees it immediately.

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely leaking, alright.” he laughs softly and crouches down, looking at the pipe. It looked to be old and probably cracked, from what he could tell, but for the most part, this would be an easy fix. The only real inconvenience would be that your water had to be shut off for a while. “But nothing I can’t take care of.” he reaches into his toolbox, grabbing his flashlight and tools, ready to get started.

“Great!” You say brightly. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

He nods as you walk back to the kitchen and resume your show.

He does his work fast and efficiently. It took him twenty minutes max, but what can he say? He’s been in the business five years, and not to brag, but he was the best in the company, serving more than hundreds of customers with top-tier service, and his reviews could confirm that. “So, what do you do for work?” He asks, making small talk as he wraps up the last bit.

“Lawyer,” you answer from across the room.

Your voice sounds muffled due to his head being under your cabinets, but he can still make out your response.

He stands up, careful not to hit his head on the way up, as he grabs a rag from his toolbox and wipes off his hands. “Nice, I like a girl with ambition” Before you could respond to the comment, he twisted the knob on the faucet running the water to check for any leaks, but obviously, there were none. “Good as new,” he smiles, completely glazing over his previous comment.

Upon hearing his words, you stood up, looking at his work. Even though you didn’t really know what to look for, all you cared about was that it was no longer leaking and you could use your sink like normal. “Very nice, thank you, handyman,” you say, your tone light and flirtatious. “Would you like a glass of water lemonade?”

“Lemonade sounds nice, thank you,” he smiles, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead.

And yeah, he definitely wasn’t mistaken earlier, judging by the way you literally were bent over in your fridge, ass in the air, and the arch in your back far too exaggerated to be just innocently grabbing your lemonade pitcher.

He tosses his towel aside with a smirk, leaning against your counter and biting on his lower lip as he waits for you to pour him a glass of lemonade.

Setting the pitcher on the countertop, you grab two glasses from your cupboard, filling both cups equally.

“Thanks.” he clicks his tongue, giving you a quick wink. He takes the cup in his hand, his fingers purposely brushing against yours. He gulps down the whole cup in one go, and you’re left with your mouth slightly agape as you watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Well, everything should be good. If you have any questions or concerns about anything, here’s my card. Feel free to call whenever.”

“Will do -oh, your payment. I almost forgot.” You quickly sat up, went to a small drawer in your living room, and pulled out a box where some cash was stored. “How much was it?” You ask over your shoulder.

He leaned over the counter, tapping his chin in thought. “Hmm, let’s just say 50$”

“Only?” You ask, and he hums.

“Suit yourself.” You grab the fifty while he gathers his tools, heading over toward you.

“Here you go, thank you, heeseung.” You eye him seductively.

“My pleasure.” he reaches for the money, intentionally grabbing your hand, and your breath hitches softly.

He bites his lip, fingers brushing against yours. You both make eye contact silently, giving each other a knowing look, and there’s undeniable tension between the two of you.

Simultaneously, you both let go of the dollar bill, letting it fall onto the floor along with his toolbox and immediately, his hands grab at your waist, pulling you into his body, his lips barely an inch away from yours.

-

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