#Single Hole Kitchen Faucet

[homesupplies4less]

Touchless Kitchen Faucet – A Modern Twist on Ease & Cleanliness

Discover the convenience of touchless kitchen faucets! Elevate your kitchen experience with effortless operation, enhanced hygiene, and sleek design. Explore more at Home Supplies 4 Less.

[miamihomecentres]

Exploring Single Hole Kitchen Faucets and Pull Down Parts

Introduction

In the realm of kitchen fixtures, single hole kitchen faucets stand as stalwart guardians of functionality and style. Among their brethren, the pull down kitchen faucet parts emerge as crucial components, orchestrating a symphony of convenience and performance. Let's embark on a journey to unravel the intricacies of these indispensable kitchen companions.

Understanding Single Hole Kitchen Faucets

Single hole kitchen faucets epitomize efficiency and elegance, boasting a streamlined design that saves space while exuding sophistication. Here's a closer look at their key attributes:

Space Optimization: Unlike their counterparts with multiple mounting holes, single hole faucets conserve precious countertop real estate, making them ideal for compact kitchen layouts.

Sleek Aesthetics: With their minimalist design and uninterrupted lines, single hole faucets add a touch of contemporary flair to any kitchen décor, elevating the visual appeal of the space.

Ease of Installation: Simplifying the installation process, these faucets require only a single mounting hole, reducing complexity and saving valuable time during setup.

Exploring Pull Down Kitchen Faucet Parts

Pull down kitchen faucet parts serve as the backbone of functionality, enabling smooth operation and versatility. Let's delve into the components that make these faucets a joy to use:

Spout: The spout, often the focal point of the faucet, channels water from the source to the sink basin with precision and control. In pull down faucets, the spout is designed to extend and retract effortlessly, catering to various tasks with ease.

Spray Head: At the heart of the pull down mechanism lies the spray head, equipped with different spray modes to accommodate diverse cleaning needs. From a steady stream for filling pots to a powerful spray for tackling stubborn stains, the spray head offers unparalleled flexibility.

Hose and Weight: A durable hose, concealed within the faucet body, facilitates the smooth movement of the spray head. A counterweight ensures that the hose retracts snugly after use, maintaining a tidy appearance and preventing tangles.

Cartridge: The cartridge serves as the control center of the faucet, regulating water flow and temperature with precision. High-quality cartridges ensure smooth operation and long-term reliability, making them a vital component of pull down kitchen faucets.

Maintenance and Troubleshooting Tips

To keep your single hole kitchen faucet and pull down kitchen faucet parts in prime condition, consider the following maintenance and troubleshooting measures:

Regular Cleaning: Periodically clean the faucet and spray head to remove mineral deposits and debris, ensuring optimal performance and hygiene.

Inspecting for Leaks: Check for any signs of leakage around the base of the faucet or beneath the sink. Addressing leaks promptly can prevent water damage and prolong the lifespan of the fixture.

Lubricating Moving Parts: Apply a lubricant to moving parts such as the hose and cartridge to prevent friction and ensure smooth operation. Be sure to use a lubricant suitable for use with potable water.

Addressing Low Water Pressure: If you encounter low water pressure, check for blockages in the aerator or debris in the cartridge. Cleaning or replacing these components as needed can restore water flow to optimal levels.

Conclusion

In the realm of kitchen design, single hole kitchen faucets reign supreme as symbols of efficiency and style. Paired with the ingenuity of pull down kitchen faucet parts, they transform mundane tasks into effortless rituals, elevating the culinary experience. By understanding their intricacies and implementing proper maintenance practices, you can ensure that these fixtures remain steadfast allies in your culinary adventures for years to come.

[miamihomecenters]

Enhance Your Kitchen: Exploring Single Hole Kitchen Faucets and Pull Down Faucet Parts

Exploring Single Hole Kitchen Faucets

In the realm of kitchen fixtures, single hole kitchen faucets stand out as sleek, efficient, and space-saving solutions. These faucets, characterized by their single mounting hole design, offer a seamless aesthetic while providing functional benefits that cater to modern kitchen needs.

Streamlined Design: The hallmark of single hole kitchen faucets lies in their minimalist design. With a single mounting point, they exude a sense of elegance and simplicity, perfect for contemporary kitchen setups. This streamlined design not only enhances the visual appeal of your kitchen but also contributes to easier cleaning and maintenance.

Space Optimization: One of the primary advantages of single hole kitchen faucets is their space-saving nature. By requiring only one installation point, they free up valuable countertop space, allowing for more flexibility in kitchen layout and design. This makes them an ideal choice for smaller kitchens or those aiming for a clutter-free appearance.

Versatile Functionality: Despite their compact form, single hole kitchen faucets boast impressive functionality. Many models offer features such as pull-down sprayers, adjustable water flow, and temperature control, allowing for seamless operation and convenience during meal preparation and cleanup.

Unveiling Pull Down Kitchen Faucet Parts

Within the realm of pull down kitchen faucet parts, lies a world of components that work together to deliver superior functionality and performance. Understanding these parts is essential for maintenance, repair, and customization of your kitchen faucet.

Spout: At the heart of the pull-down faucet assembly lies the spout, responsible for delivering water to the sink. Modern designs often incorporate swivel capabilities, allowing for greater flexibility and reach. The spout serves as a focal point in both form and function, dictating the faucet's overall performance.

Spray Head: The spray head, often detachable or retractable, is a key component of pull-down kitchen faucets. Equipped with various spray settings, including aerated and stream options, it offers versatility in water delivery for different tasks such as rinsing dishes or filling pots. Ensuring the proper functioning of the spray head is essential for optimal user experience.

Hose and Docking System: Facilitating the movement of the spray head is the hose, which connects it to the faucet body. A robust hose with a reliable docking system ensures smooth operation and prevents issues such as kinking or tangling. Quality materials and construction in these components are crucial for long-term durability and performance.

Cartridge and Valve: The cartridge and valve mechanism regulates water flow and temperature control in pull-down faucets. High-quality cartridges ensure smooth handle operation and drip-free performance, while reliable valves maintain consistent water pressure and temperature. Regular maintenance and occasional replacement of these parts are necessary to prevent leaks and ensure optimal functionality.

Handle and Controls: The handle serves as the interface between the user and the faucet, allowing for precise control over water flow and temperature. Ergonomic designs and intuitive controls enhance user experience, making everyday tasks more efficient and enjoyable. Pull-down faucets often feature single-handle operation for added convenience and simplicity.

Conclusion: Elevate Your Kitchen Experience

In conclusion, single hole kitchen faucets and pull down kitchen faucet parts offer innovative solutions to enhance the functionality and aesthetics of your kitchen space. With their streamlined design, space-saving features, and versatile functionality, single hole faucets provide a modern touch while optimizing countertop space. Meanwhile, understanding the various components of pull-down faucets, from the spout to the handle, empowers homeowners to maintain, repair, and customize their fixtures for optimal performance. By investing in high-quality kitchen faucets and staying informed about their components, you can elevate your kitchen experience and enjoy the benefits of efficiency, convenience, and style for years to come.

[hanasnx]

PANTY-STEALING, PART ONE — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: part two. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ what it says on the tin, panty stealing ノ voyeurism ノ inappropriate thoughts about reader ノ sexual content.

When you start staying with CLARK KENT, he offers up his bedroom so you have a comfortable place to sleep and some privacy. He doesn’t mind taking the couch, but you insist there’s no need. Sleeping arrangements have yet to be confirmed, so he still treats his bedroom as his own. Heavy boots creak the stairs as he climbs up until another sound drifts into his ears: the faucet of the shower, the water hitting tile, and lofty singing. Clark swallows. He enters his bedroom, intent to gather his essentials so you can be left undisturbed in his bathroom. He didn’t anticipate that the door would be ajar, your song grown in volume as light from that room spills into his. Respectfully, he averts his eyes in case he sees something he shouldn’t. The shower curtain is too sheer, and the last thing he needs is the outline of your figure burned into his retinas.

A warmth blooms in his chest, and his heart rate picks up at the sudden realization how untidy his bedroom is. You’d invited yourself in here without notice—you’d insisted everything was fine and didn’t give him time to clean. Hastily, he snatches up old clothes from around. Some that hang over his bed frame and piles on the floor, and he glances at the open slit of the bathroom to check you’re still occupied. Hopefully you can’t hear him rifling around while you’re… naked. That warmth cooks into a heat, and he breaks out in a sweat. The laundry in his arms need to go somewhere, so he brings them to his hamper, but he stops in his tracks.

A glimpse of pink flushes his cheeks a similar shade. His arms drop, clothes falling to the floor at his feet as his eyes glue to the garment in his laundry basket. Cautiously, he stoops, and a single finger slots in a fabric leg-hole, lifting it from its crumpled place like it’s radioactive. A perfect pair of lacy panties hangs pitifully from his long index. It’s something out of a movie. He clenches his jaw, blinking hard at it as if it can’t be real, furrowing his brows at the sight like it’ll disappear in thin air at any moment. Not only are they a pair of ladies underwear, but they’re used, sitting innocently atop his laundry in the hamper freshly worn. Hesitantly, he curls his finger, rounding the garment until the inner crotch shows. It glistens. A mark of unmistakable sparkle splotching and darkening the fabric where it soaked in.

Eyes widen while his breath picks up, oxygen feeling scarce as his begins to register what exactly he’s doing. A girl’s dirty panties are in his room and he’s touching them. Scolds of perversion and deviation fill his mind as he screams at his body to move—to do something.

The faucet squeaks, and the water turns off. It’s quieter, and Clark panics. It shows in his gestures, ducking his head and looking around for answers. Your singing doesn’t stop, and it masks his escape, darting swiftly out of the room using an ounce of super-speed.

You come downstairs to a fresh pot of coffee Clark put on, unbeknownst to you that he’s subconsciously apologizing. “Hi, Clark.” you beam, and only then does he notice how short your robe is. Again, he averts his eyes, only after he accidentally snuck a glance at your ass. You toe out onto the cold hardwood floor, rubbing your own upper arms to generate heat. “Woo,” You shiver, your wet hair making matters worse as your nipples pebble through the thin silk material. He bites hard into his lower lip, and then conceals it with his hand clapping over his mouth. “It’s chilly, huh?” you ask as you enter the kitchen. Clark nods vaguely, and when you pass him he’s quick to flinch back, suspending his arms as if afraid to accidentally violate you. You don’t seem to notice his adverse and intense reaction occur just outside your peripheral.

“There’s, uh, some fresh coffee.” he offers, scratching the back of his head as he wills himself to relax otherwise you’ll get wise. He retreats from the kitchen just as soon as he sees you open the cupboard, raising yourself to the tips of your toes to reach. He gulps as his eyes move before he can escape—spanning your bare legs and the glimpse of the underside of your ass. Once again he curses himself.

You retrieve a mug, and glance at him from over your shoulder with a knee-weakening smile. “Thank you,”

His lips press together, and nods again—anything to avoid saying something and making a fool of himself. Awkwardly he shoves his hands in his pockets, and visibly tenses at the familiar sensation of those panties he’d had no time to stash anywhere else other than his jeans. The pad of his thumb sticks in the tepid slick, and he can’t do anything while under your watch. It remains there, intimately feeling your discharge like some sort of creep while you rummage around in his kitchen.

It’s quiet in his head for a second. The tip of his index finger traces the little bow at the front of your panties in his pocket, and his thumb circles in your dew. Experimentally, he tests the sensations, fidgeting with the material between his fingers while he gets lost in thought.

“Cream?” you question.

Clark’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, “Hm?” he asks in disbelief—until he realizes you merely wanted to know the location of a dairy product. “Oh! Oh, um, the fridge. Top shelf.”

[hughiecampbelle]

Essential (Will Graham Oneshot)

Character/s: Will, Hannibal mention

Word Count: 1,507

Inspired By: Siren Song by Natalie Wilson (this is one of the most beautiful songs on my playlist)

Inspired By: Okay I will never shut up about this fic (Kendall Roy x Depression!Reader) by @chaithetics - I can't praise it enough. I adore it for so many reasons and I'm incredibly grateful to have read it 💕

A/N: Ahhh okay. So. Currently it's pouring out and the rain smells wonderful and I have a candle lit and my room is (mostly) clean - will be sorting that out lol. I haven't been feeling very well mentally recently. The holidays are always hard. My step-dad said some things and it really got to me. His judgement shouldn't matter at all, but it voiced every opinion I fear. It put all my insecurities on blast and I ended up sobbing to my therapist about it. I'm trying to focus on my goals, studying for the LSATs and getting everything ready to apply to law school. Trying to focus on the new year and all the possibilities it holds. It just hurt, y'know? And I thought writing would help, plus I love Will lol. Sorry for the rant!! Not my best work, but it feels good to get it out! Feedback is always appreciated!!! ❤🥩❤

*This is not part of the writing event, this is just a silly therapy fic. I will make a proper post about it, I pinky promise!*

The sun has set. Bright, twinkling stars poke holes in the cobalt sky. It’s your favorite version. The warm lights of houses splash outward through the windows. Some are muted by curtains. Others remain unobscured. Throwing itself across the snow, butter-yellow and bleeding. The snow falls in fat, robust flakes and you hear the wind howl, picking up the longer the night goes on. Downstairs the dogs bark and whine. Pawing at the door until it creaks open, they key sticking just a little. His voice carries through the house like music, song-like, in a key you cannot name, but love nonetheless. He laughs, telling them to be quick as they scatter in the yard. You count the heartbeats until they’re back inside. Safe. He sets down his bag, hanging his coat and shaking off his boots. His glasses, you assume, are not on his face, but placed on a table. The kitchen, most likely, though if he stopped at his desk, perhaps they sit among his things. His familiarities. He works in routines, straying little, if at all. You know what he will find, picturing it from memory. The cupboards and fridge undisturbed. A single mug in the skin. Tea, coffee, something hot cooled off, frozen even, half-filled or half-empty, the decision is up to him. It’s all you could manage today. An act you talk yourself into, a feat you are not prepared for, but crave regardless. Sugar and milk. You made it last the day and yet, it remains unfinished. You hear the faucet run, the stream steady. Imagine his hands. Holding the sponge, circling the inside of the ceramic, filling and pouring until bubbles have subsided. Less severe, less violent, less and less and less. He places it on the drying rack upside down, the clink of it alongside the rest of the dishes filling you with guilt. You could have washed it. You could have unloaded the burden from him. It was your mess. Despite it, despite this grief, he will wave it off. Happy to do it, to help. Still, you might argue, and he will shrug, out of words, but not out of fight. 

His footsteps patter through the first floor, pouring food into bowls, calling them each by name. Dinner is served, you think. Unzipping his bag, the sound high and sharp, retreating what he needs before you follow him to the stairs. Each step groaned quietly, as if announcing his presence in whispers. Contaninig their excitement or, perhaps, swapping secrets. Gossip. Down the hall, he makes his way towards you. His cologne, subtle, is a welcomed scent. Woodsy, earthy, like soil. Hints of tobacco. Fabric softener, too. Lavender, you think, though they are all the same. Knocking quietly at the bedroom door, lazily left ajar, before walking inside. Hey you, he says. You were right. He’s not wearing his glasses. You can see his eyes - an amalgamation of color. Blue mostly, though there are hints of green and specks of brown. Puppy dog, exceptional in conveying emotions. You search for anger in them, fury or wrath or disgust, but there is only understanding. Relief. His smile is serene and his movements gentle: placing his files full of photos and notes on the nightstand. Overflowing with gore and mutilation, there is so much work he has brought home, so much responsibility, and yet he makes time for you and your dishes. You’ve been up here all day. He says it as a statement rather than a question. You wait for reprimand, for abolishment or scolding, but his features remain soft. Were you warm enough? The blankets and duvet wrapped around you, piled atop one another. You nod, unable to find your voice. Good, he says, leaning over to kiss your forehead. He is warm despite the cold, his cheeks rosy. The bridge of his nose has two small, red marks. It must’ve been a glasses kind of day. Little time to take them off, to get up close. 

He talks without expectation. About Jack and his demands. About Hannibal and his repetitive, yet fascinating, takes on the world. Undressing as he does so. You watch him unbutton his shirt, a white t-shirt bright underneath. He does not say that he went to his psychiatrist about you. What to do, how to help. Should he be doing something differently? Should he be approaching the subject with more grit, less tenderness? Pulls a sweater over his head, the navy blue one you always liked on him. Unbuckling his belt. Searching for the flannel pants he loves, the pajamas he wears as often as he can. Should he make you go to a hospital? Is that the right course of action? Dr. Lecter hushes his worries. Reminds him he is doing everything right. That this will pass, and you will find your way back to him. He knows this, he must remind himself. He will be patient. He will take care of this, of you, as long as you both need. Bev who made a funny, albeit inappropriate, joke at the crime scene. Another killer on the loose. Too early to track, to pattern match. Talk of two offenders instead of one, a duo. He climbs in beside you, his voice steady, his hands moving as he speaks. Reminiscent of a conductor with no orchestra. Caught up in the drama, the obscurity, the way the bodies were found and how they were killed, he loses himself in the anticipation - a pressure in his chest - he must get out every word before it is too late. It is only after he has finished, catching his breath, does he notice you've fallen back to sleep. 

Trapped in a half-sleep, you catch parts of the truth. The bedside lamp has been turned on, the room even darker than you last saw. His side of the bed is empty. The faucet running in the bathroom. He sits, his files on his lap, string through each image and note. Smells of mint. He hums quietly to himself, a sound you have learned to cherish. The light is off. The bedroom black. He lies beside you, but he is awake. Softly, the words come out. Are you mad at me? He takes a moment, pausing, and dread begins to fill your chest. Why would I be mad at you? He asks,and then adds, Of course not. You can’t bring yourself to explain without tears welling up in your eyes, a sob trapped in your throat, so you say nothing. Because, you start, but cannot bring yourself to finish. Quickly wiping your eyes, grateful for the lack of light. Because I’m a burden, you think. Because I’m not myself. Because I ruin everything. Because you deserve better. Because, because, because. Will moves closer, wrapping his arms around you, rubbing circles into your back. You feel his knuckles across the spokes of your spine. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Another night crying. In the morning your eyes will be bloodshot, your face puffy. Another mess you’ve created that he cleans up. Finally, he whispers: I could never be mad at you. But what about-? Never. His tone, not unharsh, is serious and something about that settles your nerves. The gnawing guilt inside chews with its gums instead of its teeth. Get some sleep, okay? He squeezes you a little tighter. You fall asleep like that, intertwined. 

You don’t hear him get up. You don’t feel his absence until it is too late. A note left for you, his handwriting distinct and melancholy. I made you a drink. Be careful, it’s hot. Love you - Will. The mug he washed, the one you dirtied, sits beside the paper. Steam no longer pours from the top, but the cup itself is still warm. Downstairs you hear the symphony of dogs chewing. Loudly, you note, but happily. Another chore taken care of. Softly, you sip, grateful for him. For his actions, his selflessness. Today will be a little better than the last, that you are certain of. One step at a time. Will will talk to Dr. Lecter again. He will question if he’s helping. He will fear he isn’t doing enough. The two of you wrapped up in your worries, not distinct from one another, similar words with different meanings. Am I doing enough? Am I failing them? He will be talked down, reminded that this thing, this cyclical phase, it always ends. No matter what, there is always an endpoint. He must remind himself that, he must remind you, too. The two of you journey through this not out of obligation, but of necessity. He needs you. He adores you. A world without you is not one he’d like to take part in. Where you sense burden, resentment, anger, he will meet you with generosity, with compassion and understanding. It is a surprise every time, and yet it shouldn’t be. He needs you more than words could ever describe. You can’t get rid of him that easily.

[celestialhole]

A/n: Psst.. Cod fandom, Ima slide yall a drabble I made like 3 months ago.

Warnings: Abusive family, alcohol, cigarettes, etc.

Simon woke up from another nightmare. He sat up and bumped his head against Tommy's top bunk. "Ow." He rubbed his forehead. His eyes darted to the clock on the wall, and he noticed it was still 11 p.m., only three hours after he had come home from school. Today was his awful first day of school. His mom could not afford new shoes for him, and he had to use his old backpack from 1st grade despite the gaping hole in it. Simon got up slowly and grabbed a pair of socks for him to wear before he began to wander through his old rickety house, where his mother sat asleep in the living room and their TV played those survey game shows. He tiptoed past the living room cautiously so as not to wake her and he slowly crept into the kitchen for a glass of water; he grabbed the glass cup and hovered it under the faucet as he carefully turned it on. The water pouring into the cup muffled the sound of creaky footsteps behind him; Simon brought the cup to his lips and took a sip of his water, until he heard a deep, rough voice behind him, "What're ya doin' up this late boy?"

Simon felt his heart stop. He quickly put the glass cup on the counter and backed away. " I was just getting some water." His voice squeaked once his gaze met his father's. His father's eyes looked red from all the cigarettes he had been smoking while he was away. He was usually gone at night which is why Simon was so scared. The only times he was safe were in his bunkbed, asleep, while his father was gone.

"Really now? Some water eh? Pshh.. You don't need it, kid. You ever tried beer before?" His father had that creepy smile on his face. His bones popped as he stepped over to the fridge and opened it. His bony hand gestured to the glass beverages inside it.

Simon shook his head no to the question. His body felt stiff and his throat felt as if it couldn't handle a single word Simon tried to muster up.

His father had that musty smell of cigarettes and another woman's perfume; his hair was greasy and his body smelt of sweat. He reached into the fridge and grabbed a bottle before closing the fridge. "Here, try it." He popped the bottle cap off and handed it to his son. "Just don't tell Mommy and I'll let ya go." He smiled down at Simon maliciously, his gaze noticed how stiff Simon was and it irritated him to no end. He frowned, "I said, drink it." His eyes narrowed at Simon.

His overwhelming anxiety silenced Simon's voice as his eyes darted between the beer bottle and his impatient father. The boy obeyed hesitantly and his hand shakily brought the alcohol to his lip. He could smell the rotten scent from inside the bottle as he took a small sip. The beverage tasted more awful than it smelt and he spat it out in the sink. The bitter taste still lingered in his mouth and he reached over for his glass of water until his father spilled it over on purpose, "C'mon Simon. Real men don't need water when it comes to beer. Drink it up!"

Simon's breath hitched and he whimpered in fear whilst his father brought the beer bottle back to his face. He shook his head no, "..I don't wanna drink it.. It tastes-"

"It tastes like that the first time for everyone quit yer whinin' and drink it before I make you drink it," His father cut him off and glared down at him.

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

Multum in Parvo

An anonymous commission

**************************

Fandom: Commissioner’s OCs

Word Count: 2026

Genre: Caretaking, Contagion

CW/TW: E for Everyone

*******************************

“hhhh’KKSHNX!”

Jackie groaned, lifting the soaked collar of his hoodie to his nose again. As soft as the fabric was, his nostrils had become chapped from the constant scrubbing and sneezing.

Though Jackie was glad to find that stray mother cat and bring them to the clinic, he wished he had at least grabbed a jacket before running out into the pouring rain. Instead, he came to the clinic in a dripping robe and a pair of house shoes with a hole in one sole, trying to keep the mewing kittens from climbing out of his arms. He tried to go in with them, but Ira had insisted he go back home. He had crashed on the couch, neglecting to change out of his wet clothes. Next thing he knew, he woke up to a pounding head and a nose that ran like a faucet.

It didn’t take long for Jackie to realize he was woefully unprepared for a cold. He only had a single can of expired gumbo and a half empty can of soda in the kitchen, he had taken the last Ibuprofen he had last week, and there wasn’t a single tissue in the entire house - not even a paper towel or a square of toilet paper to soothe his burning nostrils.

He was sipping the lukewarm, flat soda and wondering if he should risk opening the gumbo when his phone rang. He cringed, the shrill tone making his temples ache. Jackie fumbled in his hoodie’s pocket before pulling out his phone and putting it on speaker.

“Snf…hello?”

“Jackie? Is that you?”

Jackie couldn’t help but smile at the sound of a familiar voice. “Hey, Mortimer. Whad’s going on?”

“You sound like hell frozen over,” Mortimer said, matter-of-fact as always.

Jackie rubbed his arm, which had been covered in goosebumps since the night before. “Well, you god the frozen part righd.”

“Let me guess. You got a call?”

“Snf…yeah.”

“Raining?”

“Mhm.”

“Didn’t think to change?”

“I had to hurry. They were only going to stay in one place for so long…”

Mortimer sighed.

“One of these days you’re going to catch your death because of some flea-bitten animal.”

“Don’t-”

Jackie cut himself off with a shuddering cough, phlegm crackling in his chest. His friend at the other end waited patiently for him to finish.

“You really are sick,” Mortimer said. His voice had softened.

“Id’s just a cold, Morty - snf! Probably one of those twenty-four hour things. I’ll be fine by to…tonigh-!”

Jackie pinched his nostrils, letting out a strangled stifle. He hoped he had the phone far enough away from him that Mortimer didn’t hear.

“hhh’SHHNX!”

Mortimer tsked. “I sincerely doubt that. It’s already almost four.”

Jackie looked blearily at his phone screen. Sure enough, 3:46 flashed back at him. He hadn’t realized it had gotten so late. How long had he been asleep?

“Toborrow borning, then. I just need some sleeb, and I’ll be all good.”

He tried to sniff back some of his congestion, but his nose was completely stopped up. His sinuses squeaked to no avail.

“Have you taken anything?” Mortimer asked.

Jackie glanced at the medicine cabinet on the wall, which only had a small package of bandaids and a used veterinary syringe.

“Uh…n-no, but I heard you shouldn’d take a bunch of bedicine when you’re sick. The germs’ll get used to it or sobething.”

He heard Mortimer sigh again, and he could almost see his friend rubbing his temple under his reading glasses.

“Jackie, as much as I like to visit the graveyard, I’d rather you not become a permanent resident. Do try to take care of yourself, won’t you?”

Before Jackie could think of a retort, another coughing fit interrupted him, one that was much worse than before. Without being able to breathe through his nose, he was forced to wheeze in as much air as he possibly could before the fit overtook him again. His lungs rattled as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Oh, Jackie…”

Jackie heard a book slamming closed on the other end.

“I should have known you were too ill to properly take care of yourself,” Mortimer said. “I’m coming over there. You still keep your door foolishly unlocked, correct?”

“Huh? No, I’b…I’b okay…”

“You obviously aren’t.”

“You’re going to catch by cold.”

“I’ll be fine. I haven’t been ill in a millenia.”

Jackie knew there was nothing he could say to change Mortimer’s mind. Once he had his mind set on something, there was nothing you could do to deter him.

“Well, if you’re cobing over…could you please grab some tissues? I’b all ou…ah…!”

Jackie buried his face in the neck of his hoodie.

“hhhh’KSSSSHNX!”

“I figured as much. I’ll get you some medicine as well, while I’m at it. You sound like you need it.”

Jackie sniffled. “Thangks.”

*********************

It seemed like an eternity before Jackie finally heard a terse knock on his door. He couldn’t even turn his head to look.

“Morty?”

The door opened, and a pair of heavy boots squeaked in. An umbrella rustled.

“I can see why you’re ill,” Mortimer’s voice said from the doorway. “If I was out in this dreadful weather, I would have caught something nasty as well.”

There was a pause as he took his jacket off, water dripping onto the floor.

“However, I am not so thoughtless. Really, Jackie, what were you thinking?”

“I-” Jackie croaked, hardly beginning his defense before his rough cough overtook him again.

Mortimer put down the plastic bag he was holding on the small coffee table. Jackie was finally able to see him in his blurred field of vision. He could see Mortimer’s furrowed brow, concentrating as he sifted through the bag. His drenched hair and damp shoulders. The storm must have gotten worse if Mortimer got this soaked, even with an umbrella.

“You’re wet,” Jackie mumbled. It was all he had the energy to say.

Mortimer turned a white pill bottle in his hand, examining the label. “Well, it is raining.”

He opened the bottle, counting out a few pills before reaching into the bag again.

“This says you’ll need to take two every five to six hours for the best results. I would give you three, but it says excessive use can lead to liver damage. You’re already ill enough.”

Mortimer took out a blue Gatorade and snapped off the cap.

“Open your mouth.”

Too tired to argue, Jackie did as he was told. Mortimer tipped Jackie’s head forward, laying a pill gently on his tongue before lifting the Gatorade to his lips. The bottle was still cold from the convenience store’s fridge, and gave much needed relief to his raw, dry throat. While he drank, Mortimer’s frigid hand felt his forehead.

“You’re burning up,” Mortimer tsked. “Not that I’m surprised. I may have to get something stronger if this fever goes up much higher.”

Mortimer helped Jackie take the other pill, then took the plastic bag with him to the kitchen.

“You may not feel like eating now, but you must have something before your next dose. I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought a favorite cliche - chicken noodle.”

As Mortimer put away the food, Jackie felt his now heavy eyelids droop. Though he didn’t feel much better, something about Mortimer shuffling around put him at ease. It was nice to have someone fill the space, even in such a small apartment.

************************

Jackie drifted in and out of consciousness, only remembering the muted taste of Gatorade and soup on a plastic spoon. Mortimer’s voice guided him to and from sleep, either gently waking him or soothing him into another doze.

He didn’t know how long he slept, but when he could finally open his eyes, a dull light streamed through his crooked blinds. Jackie propped himself up on his elbow, yawning and rubbing his crusted eyes. He was no longer congested, but his sinuses had become almost painfully dry as he slept. He rubbed at his buzzing nostrils, squeezing them between his two fingers. However, this only aggravated the itchy feeling.

“Good afternoon.”

Mortimer came out of the kitchen with a small take-out container in his hand. His normally neat hair was now frizzy, and his clothes had become rumpled overnight. It was a very rare phase of his, but a welcome one nonetheless.

“Did you sleep well?” Mortimer asked.

Jackie nodded, still scrubbing at his nose. “How long was I out?”

“Long enough. I called the shelter to explain your absence, and to say you will most likely not be going tomorrow, either.”

Jackie’s face flushed. He didn’t mind being taken care of, but he almost felt like a child kept from going to school by a protective mother.

“Snf…what did Ira say?”

“She said she understood, and they’d do perfectly well without you.”

Jackie doubted that, as it was just after the holidays – the window of time when parents realized the dogs and cats they had gotten as presents were more trouble than they were worth – but he decided not to press it. Besides, something else was preoccupying him: the growing, tingling tickle that had suddenly flared in his sinuses.

“Morty, did you b-bring the tihssues-?”

Mortimer, sensing Jackie’s urgency, quickly looked around the apartment.

“I brought them in with the soup…where…?”

He patted his pockets, but came up with nothing. Jackie’s nostrils began to quiver.

“H-Hurry-!”

“I am! Just - hold on!”

Mortimer looked under pillows, between the legs of the coffee table, behind the sofa. Meanwhile, Jackie was trying to keep his urge to sneeze at bay. He knew that his hoodie sleeve wouldn’t be enough for this one. He pinched his nostrils closed, hopelessly hitching into his clamped fingers.

Finally, after rummaging in the pockets of his hanging coat, Mortimer was able to find the packet of tissues. He ripped off the tab and held one out to Jackie just as his nose was about to get the better of him. Jackie grabbed it and buried his face into it.

“HHHPPPT’KSHHNX! h’CHNX! CHNX! CHNX!”

Jackie jerked from stifle after stifle, barely able to take a breath between sneezes. By the time he had finished, stars were dancing across his vision as he panted for air. Mortimer handed him another tissue, and Jackie blew his nose.

“You really mustn't do that,” he scolded. “You’re going to burst a blood vessel – or at least give yourself an awful headache.”

Jackie rubbed his forehead. “It’s fide. I don’t need to be spreading my germs everywhere.”

“Better out than in. Besides, if I am going to catch your cold, it’s already much too late.”

“But they’re kinda…loud.”

“I’m a horror novelist, not one of your animals. I don’t startle easily.”

“I know, but I…duh-!”

Jackie’s nostrils flared with new vigor. Mortimer prepared another tissue.

“I really don’t mind, Jackie.”

Jackie sniffled, taking the tissue. As much as he wanted to hold back, he didn’t think he had enough energy to.

“Thah…hah-!”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“HAH-!”

After a short but agonizing pause, Jackie pitched forward into his tissue.

“HHHYESH’SHIIIIIEW! HHSH’SHIIEW!”

Jackie leaned back on the couch, the size of his two sneezes taking what energy he had left out of him. Mortimer chuckled, handing him another tissue.

“Gesundheit. That’s certainly better.”

“Thangk - HYESH’SHIEW! - you. Snf!”

Jackie blew his nose, finally clearing out everything that had built up over the last couple days. Though he was relieved, the whole ordeal left him exhausted.

“I think I may have to go back to the store for more tissues,” Mortimer said, sitting on the couch.

Jackie sniffled. “Yeah. I only have, like, three lef-”

“hp’chiew!”

Mortimer suddenly buried his nose into the crook of his arm. Laughing, Jackie took out a tissue from the packet and handed it to him.

“Yep, we’re definitely gonna need more.”

Mortimer groaned, wiping off both his nose and his sleeve. “If these past couple days are any indication, I’m in for quite an ordeal.”

“I did warn you.”

“A lot of good that did me.”

Jackie settled back down into the blankets, sighing. It looked like Mortimer’s visit would be a bit longer than he expected.

Not that he minded.

[ragugryphon]

How to Choose the Right Faucet to Complement Your Sink

Introduction: Choosing the perfect faucet to compliment your sink may appear to be a little issue, but it may have a huge impact on the practicality and aesthetics of your kitchen or bathroom. With so many possibilities on the market, it's critical to evaluate a variety of criteria to ensure that the faucet not only fits your sink but also matches your style preferences and functional requirements.

Understanding Your Sink: Before getting into faucet selections, you should first grasp your sink's configuration and characteristics. Consider the following points:

Sink Mounting: Determine if your sink is top-mounted, under-mounted, or wall-mounted. This will determine what sort of faucet can be installed.

Holes: Count your sink's mounting holes. Most sinks include pre-drilled holes for faucet installation, which usually range from one to four. Check that the quantity and layout of these holes match the faucet you've chosen.

Size and Shape: Take note of the size and form of your sink. A large, double-basin sink may benefit from a high-arc or pull-down faucet, whilst a tiny sink may necessitate a more compact and streamlined choice. Factors to Consider When Choosing a Faucet: Once you have a firm idea of your sink's requirements, consider the following aspects when choosing a faucet:

Style and Finish: Faucets are available in a number of styles, from conventional to modern, and finishes, including chrome, stainless steel, brushed nickel, bronze, and more. Select a style and finish that complements the overall look of your kitchen or bathroom.

Spout Height and Reach: The funnel's height and reach determine the faucet's functioning and how well it can support diverse tasks. Consider the depth of your sink and the area above it to ensure the faucet has enough clearance and reach.

Handle Type: Faucets come in single-handle, double-handle, and touchless forms. Select a handle type that best meets your preferences and needs. Single-handle faucets are popular due to their ease of use and elegant design, but double-handle faucets provide separate controls for hot and cold water.

Sprayer Options: If you choose for a kitchen faucet, consider if you need a pull-down, pull-out, or side spray sprayer. These alternatives provide adaptability to duties like rinsing dishes and cleaning the sink.

Water Efficiency: Look for WaterSense-certified faucets, which indicate that they satisfy EPA water-efficiency standards. Water-saving features like aerators and flow restrictors can assist minimize water use while maintaining performance.

Durability and Warranty: Invest in a high-quality faucet made of lasting materials like brass or stainless steel. Check the manufacturer's warranty for protection against defects and malfunctions. Installation Considerations: Before purchasing a faucet, think about the installation process and any extra components you might need, such as supply lines or mounting hardware. If you're not sure about your plumbing expertise, consider contacting a professional installer to assure appropriate fit and performance. Conclusion: Choosing the perfect faucet to go with your sink requires careful consideration of several criteria, including sink compatibility, style preferences, practicality, and longevity. By examining your requirements and researching available options, you may discover a faucet that not only improves the aesthetics of your kitchen or bathroom, but also provides dependable performance for years to come. With careful planning and informed decisions, you can create the ideal blend of design and function in your sink area

[brassgatedesign]

Faucet with brass handles, Brass Faucet Kitchen, Single Hole Design, Luxury Unlacquered Brass Faucet

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Look, I read it 3 times and I’m not going to get tired of this anytime soon THIS FIC IS FIREEEE kfkdkdkdkdk 💦🤤

IT’S SO GOOD PEANUT!!! 🫠

You’re an absolute legend and the lovely filthy apple of my eye ♥️

Favorite parts under the cut ‘cause there’s so many 😏

RUN TO READ THIS Y’ALL, You won’t be disappointed!

The evening air is cool, slipping through the cracked kitchen window as Joel rinses a coffee mug under the faucet. The quiet hum of the fridge is the only sound in the house, a rare moment of stillness since Sarah moved in for college. He doesn’t mind the mess she brings with her—the stray notebooks on the kitchen counter, the piles of laundry that seem to multiply like rabbits—but it means his nights often end like this, cleaning up after her, one piece of chaos at a time.

Domestic Joel should be in my house all the time, I would love to watch him doing the most mundane and random things, totally drunk on his beauty 🫠

“Yeah, and it’s part of the experience to make dumbass choices, too,” he shoots back, pacing the kitchen. “You know what these things are like. Cheap booze, god knows what else floatin' around. She doesn’t belong there.”

Well I can’t say I totally blame him because I remember being 20s and making a shit ton of terrible decisions 😅

“You can’t hover over her every second,” she snaps, her patience clearly thinning. “She’s figuring things out. You need to let her.”

This is true too, too much control isn’t good and 20 something (me) will try with all they have to do something their parents said no to.

He can’t hear Joel’s words, but he can imagine them—gruff, insistent, probably pacing a hole into the floor on the other end of the line.

Why is that so Joel OMG 😂😂😂

But the kid holds firm, producing a tray of bright green jello shots with a flourish. “No shot, no entry. That’s the rule. C’mon, man, it’s just jello. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Omg this kid 🙄 get out of the way 😤

I know this is very important information but I have never seen jello in my life, here they only serve shots without gelatin 😂

Arthur slaps a hand on Joel’s shoulder, grinning like a damn fool. “You know, Miller, I've been sayin’ you were gettin’ a little too soft in the middle. Guess the young folks got a name for it now.”

Hahahah Their banter is peak comedy, I laughed so hard every single time 🤣

You glance over your shoulder, smirking. “Patience, Joel. I’m working on it. You’re like a bloodhound, you know that? Just sniffing out trouble.”

He’s a guard dog, I want to be closely guarded by him 😏

“Well,” Arthur drawls as they push past a couple making out against the staircase banister. “If ya told me you wanted to relive your youth, I’d have suggested a saloon instead of a damn frat house.”

LOL Frat house honestly sounds like hell to me 😂

You flash him a grin. “Maybe I just like seeing Joel all worked up.”

Yeah, I like that too 😏

Joel doesn’t hesitate. His hand joins Arthur’s between your legs, their fingers brushing, both of them feeling just how desperate you are.

PLEASEEEEE

The sounds they make—needy, desperate, barely held together—send heat pooling between your thighs.

Omg I need to hear 🥵🥵🥵

You whimper, heat pooling low as Joel meets Arthur’s stare, something dangerous passing between them. Then Joel moves, fast, gripping your chin, tilting your head back into a deep kiss. His tongue sweeps against yours, stealing your breath, swallowing your sounds like he owns them.

The staring makes me hot mmmm

Arthur groans in agreement but refuses to let Joel take the lead. He moves lower, mouth dragging down your stomach, hands gripping your thighs, pushing them apart. He inhales sharply at the sight of your slick heat. “Christ, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking through your wetness. “All this for us?”

All for you

😏

Joel grits his teeth, watching you fall apart, his strokes turning rougher, breath ragged. “Goddamn it.” His gaze burns at the way your body shakes, how your moans break into gasps.

Him watching is sending me in outer space JESUS CHRIST so hot 💦💦

Arthur chuckles darkly. “Then I better make it worse.

OMFG Please, do. Do worse. 🥵 djfkdkskdkjdjdnejx

His hand drifts lower, brushing featherlight over your swollen clit. The jolt of sensation sends a wrecked moan spilling from your lips.

FUCK

Joel curses, breath wrecked. “You feel that, baby? Takin’ both of us like you were made for it.”

I’m wrecked 🤤

Then Arthur grips the back of Joel’s neck, crashing their mouths together. It’s rough, desperate—teeth clashing, tongues fighting for control.

YEEEESSSSSS omg this is everything 🫠🫠🫠

Bottoms Up

bfd!Joel Miller x bfstepdad!Arthur Morgan x f!reader//7.1k

summary: a threesome sex pollen fic where two men kiss

warnings: mdni, 18+, 2 dicks one hole (I am not going for realism this is a sex pollen fic) reader is tipsy, oral m! and f! receiving, alcohol, sex pollen, age gap (reader is in college, make the men however old you want but they are dad's to a college-age girl), Arthur is married Joel is not, shitty moodboard

notes: this is for @yxtkiwiyxt 's nhie challenge. My prompt was never have I ever hooked up at a party with Joel Miller. If any of these warnings or the summary put you off, please move on and do not put yourself through this. A big huge thank you to my baby @thundermartini for holding my hand big on this one, sitting with me through my always never-ending moodboard crisis, helping with the title last minute, cheering me on, reading the smut, listening to me talk about this in between the other 5 million fics I have going for like a month and a half, and just being such an amazing human always I love you more than you know <3 A massive thank you to @arcanefox207 for beta-ing this bad boy on such short notice, being such a wonderful human and hyping me up, and an equally massive thank you to @itwasntimethatdidit40 for reading this as well, being a huge cheerleader always for me and the sweetest lovebug. And of course thank you a million times to @almostempty for giving me the entire sex pollen idea and how to incorporate it. I love you all so very much!! <3 And tysm @/keerysquinnpage on pinterest for the pictures of naked men

masterlist

The evening air is cool, slipping through the cracked kitchen window as Joel rinses a coffee mug under the faucet. The quiet hum of the fridge is the only sound in the house, a rare moment of stillness since Sarah moved in for college. He doesn’t mind the mess she brings with her—the stray notebooks on the kitchen counter, the piles of laundry that seem to multiply like rabbits—but it means his nights often end like this, cleaning up after her, one piece of chaos at a time.

He glances toward the trash can, where the lid doesn’t sit flush. With a low grunt, he tugs the can out, ready to take it to the curb, but as he reaches for the liner, something crumpled catches his eye. His brows knit together as he pulls out the wadded piece of paper. Smoothing it against the counter, his frown deepens.

It’s a flyer. Bright neon colors advertise a college party—cheap beer, loud music, and the promise of bad decisions. His gut tightens as he reads the details. The address is printed at the bottom and the date and time stand out like a glaring warning sign: Tonight. 9 PM. Joel glances at the clock on the microwave—it’s already past ten.

His stomach tightens.

Sarah hasn’t mentioned anything about going to a party. She’s been quiet all evening, coming home from class and heading straight to her room, earbuds in, barely mumbling a “hey” when he asked if she’d eaten dinner.

Joel runs a hand over his beard, staring at the flyer like it might offer some explanation. A dozen thoughts flood his mind- the packed rooms, the loud music, the drunk kids stumbling into each other. He can almost see Sarah in the middle of it all—maybe drinking something she shouldn’t be, maybe with a boy who has no business being near her.

“Dammit, Sarah,” he mutters under his breath, tossing the flyer back onto the counter. His fingers itch toward his phone, and before he can second-guess himself, he hits the contact for her mom.

The phone rings twice before she picks up, her voice warm but wary, the way it always is when Joel calls unexpectedly. “Hey, Joel. What’s going on?”

“Have you heard from Sarah tonight?” he asks, skipping past the pleasantries.

There’s a pause. “No, why?”

Joel exhales, gripping the edge of the counter. “She’s not here. Found a damn party flyer in the trash. Looks like it’s tonight. Think she’s there.”

Another pause, followed by a sigh. “Joel, she’s in college. Going to parties is part of the experience.”

“Yeah, and it’s part of the experience to make dumbass choices, too,” he shoots back, pacing the kitchen. “You know what these things are like. Cheap booze, god knows what else floatin' around. She doesn’t belong there.”

“She’s not a kid anymore, Joel,” her mom replies, her tone calm but firm. “She’s responsible enough to know her limits.”

“Responsible?” Joel lets out a sharp laugh. “She didn’t even tell me she was goin' out. Doesn't sound responsible to me.”

“You can’t hover over her every second,” she snaps, her patience clearly thinning. “She’s figuring things out. You need to let her.”

Joel clenches his teeth, his grip on the phone tightening. “You call carin' about her hovering? I’m just tryna make sure she’s safe.”

“And I’m telling you she is,” her mom says, exhaling sharply. “Joel, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy with this. Let her have her fun.”

Before Joel can respond, she hangs up. He pulls the phone from his ear and stares at the screen, his jaw clenching as frustration boils in his chest. Let her have her fun. The words echo in his mind, making his stomach churn. Maybe her mom can sit back and hope for the best, but Joel can’t. He won’t.

Pulling his jacket off the back of a chair, he grabs his keys and heads for the door. If Sarah is at that party, he’s going to find her. And she damn well better have a good explanation.

_____________________________

Arthur shifts in his chair, the leather creaking softly as he glances over the edge of his book. He isn’t much of a reader—hell, Sarah’s mom teases him often enough about that—but every now and then, he likes the quiet. The house is calm tonight, the kind of calm that doesn’t come around much these days.

Across the room, she scrolls through her phone, half-watching one of those reality shows she claims to hate but never misses. It’s nice, Arthur thinks, this kind of simple peace.

Then her phone rings.

Arthur watches her pick it up, her brow furrowing slightly as she glances at the caller ID. “It’s Joel,” she mutters, swiping to answer.

Arthur sets his book down, leaning back as the conversation begins. He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. He can’t hear Joel’s words, but he can imagine them—gruff, insistent, probably pacing a hole into the floor on the other end of the line.

When she finally hangs up, she lets out an exasperated sigh, tossing the phone onto the coffee table.

“Let me guess,” Arthur drawls, his voice tinged with amusement. “Joel’s got his panties in a twist?”

Her lips twitch, but she shakes her head. “He found some party flyer in the trash. Thinks Sarah’s there and is acting like it’s the end of the world.”

Arthur snorts, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Sounds ‘bout right. Man’s wound tighter than a spring.”

“It’s exhausting,” she admits, leaning back into the couch. “I told him she’s fine. She’s not a kid anymore.”

Arthur nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe. But Joel’s got his reasons for worryin'. Can’t say I don’t see his point.”

She gives him a sharp look. “Don’t tell me you’re siding with him all of the sudden.”

Arthur shrugs, standing and stretching as he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair followed by his hat. “Ain’t about takin' sides. But if he’s worried enough to call, maybe there’s somethin' to it. Kids these days, parties like that—” He shakes his head. “Best not to assume it’s all harmless fun.”

Her frown deepens. “You’re not seriously thinking of going, are you?”

Arthur shoots her a crooked grin, pulling on his jacket. “Well, somebody oughta make sure Joel don't storm in there like a damn cavalry charge.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, muttering something under her breath as he grabs his keys.

As he steps outside, the cool night air hits his face. He slides into his truck, glancing briefly at the dashboard before starting the engine. Joel is probably halfway to the party already, tense as a coiled snake. Arthur can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips.

Guess I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t make a damn fool of himself.

The closer Joel gets to the party, the more his unease builds. He can hear the music from blocks away, the thrum of bass vibrating through his chest. His gut twists, each beat of the song an irritating reminder that his daughter, his baby girl, is likely in there somewhere. He parks his truck and steps out into the loud, chaotic scene.

The house is a mess from the outside, students drunkenly spilling out of the door and onto the front lawn, some of them barely keeping their balance. The closer he gets, the worse the place is—loud and cluttered with more students than Joel can count. He can already feel his blood pressure rising. As he reaches the front steps, a wiry kid in a tank top and backward cap blocks his path. The kid can’t be older than twenty-one and is clearly drunk, his glassy eyes scanning Joel with exaggerated scrutiny.

“Whoa, whoa, dude, hold up,” the kid slurs, holding up a hand. “You can’t just storm in here lookin' like that. You’re way too tense, man. Party vibes only.”

Joel frowns, his patience already running thin. “I ain’t here to party. I’m here to pick up my daughter.”

The kid squints at him, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Nah, nah, can’t let you in all mad like that. House rules, bro. You gotta chill first. Like, take a shot, loosen up, and then you can go find whoever.”

Joel stares at him, his expression hardening. “I don’t have time for this. Move.”

But the kid holds firm, producing a tray of bright green jello shots with a flourish. “No shot, no entry. That’s the rule. C’mon, man, it’s just jello. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Joel exhales sharply through his nose, his patience worn to a thread. The kid in front of him sways slightly, the jello shots jiggling on the tray as he grins like he’s just presented the best damn solution in the world.

Joel doesn’t have time for this. He’s about to shove past the guy when a familiar voice cuts through the noise behind him.

"Well, ain't this a sight."

Joel turns just as Arthur steps up beside him, hands in the pockets of his jacket, that damn cowboy hat sitting low on his head like he owns the place.

Joel hates that hat. He’s hated it since the first time he saw it, sitting smug as hell atop Arthur’s head like some declaration of personality. The damn thing makes Arthur look too at ease, too comfortable in any situation—including this one.

The kid grins wider, apparently delighted by the addition of another older man to his party obstacle course. “Ayyy, two-for-one deal! Y’all both gotta take one. House rules, bros.”

Arthur glances at the jello shots and then at Joel. “You gonna play nice, or you plannin’ to deck this poor bastard?”

Joel glares. “I ain’t here for games.”

Arthur hums, clearly entertained. He plucks one of the tiny plastic cups off the tray, holding it up like he’s appraising fine liquor. “Hell, Miller, might as well get in the spirit.”

Joel’s jaw tightens. He is not in the mood for this nonsense, but Arthur’s already tipping the shot back, his expression unreadable as he swallows. A beat later, he clears his throat, grimacing. “That’s awful.”

The kid cheers like Arthur just won some kind of prize. “Hell yeah! Your turn, grumpy dude.” He shoves the tray toward Joel again, jiggling it obnoxiously.

Joel eyes the tiny cup like it personally offended him. His fingers curl into fists at his sides. Every second he spends out here, Sarah could be getting into trouble inside. He doesn’t trust these kids, doesn’t trust the booze, doesn’t trust any of this.

Arthur nudges him with an elbow. “C’mon, Miller. Ain’t gonna kill ya.”

Joel exhales through gritted teeth. Fine. If it gets this dumbass out of his way faster.

He snatches a shot from the tray, tilts his head back, and swallows it in one go.

Immediately, regret slams into him.

It’s sickly sweet and burns in a way that doesn’t belong in jello. His face contorts, and beside him, Arthur lets out a wheezing laugh. “Oh, that’s just nasty.”

Joel coughs once, shoving the empty cup back at the kid. “Happy?”

The kid fist pumps like a proud parent. “Vibe check complete, my dudes! Go forth and party.”

Joel doesn’t waste another second. He brushes past him, Arthur following close behind. The second they step inside, the heat and smell hit him—cheap beer, sweat, and something suspiciously skunky in the air. The bass rattles his ribs, and the sheer amount of people crammed into the space makes his pulse spike.

Arthur whistles low, glancing around. “Damn. Brings back memories.”

Joel ignores him. 

Arthur sighs, rolling his eyes. “Right, then. Let’s go huntin’ hound dog.”

“Have you seen Sarah Miller?” Joel asks a couple of people milling about the entryway, but no one knows where she is. Some give him blank stares, others are too drunk to respond properly. His patience is thin.

He scans the crowd, eyes darting from room to room, trying to catch sight of her. The music pulses in his ears, every movement around him only adding to the feeling that everything is spiraling out of his control. Where the hell are you, Sarah?

A few steps into the living room, Joel freezes. His name cuts through the noise like a knife.

“Well, well. Joel Miller, at a college party. Never thought I’d see the day.” The voice is unmistakable—playful, familiar, and laced with just enough teasing to make his jaw clench. Joel turns, his eyes landing on you, Sarah's friend.

You’re leaning casually against the wall, a red plastic cup in hand, looking far too amused for his liking.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Joel demands, stepping closer, his tone sharp but quiet enough not to draw attention.

You shrug, a sly smile tugging at your lips. “Same thing everyone else is doing. Relaxing, having a good time. You should try it sometime.”

Joel’s scowl deepens. “I ain’t here for that.”

“Figured.” You sip your drink, your gaze never leaving his. “Lemme guess. Sarah?”

He nods tightly. “You seen her?”

“Maybe.” You tilt your head, there's a playful glint in your eyes. “What’s it worth to you?”

Joel lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand over his face. “This ain’t the time for games, darlin’.”

You laugh softly, setting your cup down. “Relax, Joel. I’ll help you find her. You know,” you say, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you lean in slightly, “you clean up nice. Didn’t realize you’d turned into such a hot daddy.”

Arthur immediately coughs—more like chokes—his hand flying to his mouth as he fights to hold back laughter. “Oh-ho, now this is gettin’ good.”

Joel’s jaw drops slightly, his ears burning. “The hell did you just say?”

“You heard me,” you reply, unfazed. “Hot. Daddy. Don’t act so surprised—it’s a compliment.”

Arthur slaps a hand on Joel’s shoulder, grinning like a damn fool. “You know, Miller, I've been sayin’ you were gettin’ a little too soft in the middle. Guess the young folks got a name for it now.”

Joel looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole. “You’re both somethin’ else, you know that?”

Arthur leans in slightly, smirking. “Yeah, well, guess that makes you Daddy Miller now.”

Joel’s groan drowns out your laughter as he rubs his face. “I swear to god—”

“Oh, c’mon, Daddy,” you tease, winking. “Let’s find your kid before you have an aneurysm.”

Arthur, still grinning, tips his hat. “Lead the way, darlin’.”

Joel barely has time to recover from your teasing before you grab his arm and start weaving through the crowd. His gruff protests are swallowed by the thumping bass and the loud laughter of drunken college kids. He follows reluctantly, still fuming but unable to shake the warmth spreading over his cheeks from your earlier comment.

“Where’d you see her last?” he asks, his voice low as his eyes dart around the chaotic scene.

You glance over your shoulder, smirking. “Patience, Joel. I’m working on it. You’re like a bloodhound, you know that? Just sniffing out trouble.”

He shoots Arthur a glare. “You comin’ or just standin’ there lookin’ smug?”

Arthur’s smirk widens as he follows. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Joel pushes through the crowd with Arthur close behind, his jaw clenched so tight it’s a miracle he hasn’t cracked a tooth. The bass rattles the floor beneath his boots, the house packed shoulder to shoulder with college kids shouting over the music, some already sloppy-drunk and stumbling. Every second that ticks by without finding Sarah makes his chest tighten, but what’s almost as frustrating is the bastard at his side.

Arthur, the smug son of a bitch, is clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Well,” Arthur drawls as they push past a couple making out against the staircase banister. “If ya told me you wanted to relive your youth, I’d have suggested a saloon instead of a damn frat house.”

Joel shoots him a glare, but Arthur just grins, scanning the room like he’s actually enjoying himself. “This ain’t a joke, Morgan.”

“Didn’t say it was. But you gotta admit—” Arthur gestures at the chaos, some kid throwing up into a plastic cup a few feet away, “—it’s pretty damn funny.”

Joel exhales sharply, fighting the urge to deck him. “Only thing funny is how I keep puttin’ up with your shit.”

Arthur smirks. “Aw, you’d miss me if I was gone.”

“Like I’d miss a damn splinter.”

Their back-and-forth is interrupted when a girl stumbles into Joel’s side, nearly spilling her drink down his shirt. She blinks up at him, eyes glassy, then lets out a breathless laugh. “Oh my god. You guys are, like, way too old to be here. Are you professors?”

Arthur lets out a barking laugh before Joel can answer. “Somethin’ like that, sweetheart.”

Joel shakes his head, muttering under his breath, and keeps moving. Arthur follows, still smirking, but then you step into their path, that mischievous glint in your eye returning as you block their way.

“Boys, please.” you say, arms folding across your chest. 

Joel exhales sharply. “You know where she is or not?”

You hum, tilting your head, letting the tension stretch just a little longer. “Maybe.”

Arthur snorts. “She’s messin’ with ya.”

You flash him a grin. “Maybe I just like seeing Joel all worked up.”

Arthur laughs, shaking his head. “You ain’t the first.”

Joel rolls his eyes.

You step closer with a knowing grin. “Pretty sure she went upstairs.”

Joel stiffens, scanning the crowded staircase. His gut twists. Upstairs could mean anything—she could be safe, just hanging out, or she could be caught up in something way worse.

“I’ll check,” he mutters, already moving toward the stairs.

Arthur’s about to follow, but Joel shakes his head. “We cover more ground if we split up. Keep lookin’ down here.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so I get to stumble ‘round in a damn sea of drunk fools while you get to skulk off someplace nice and quiet?”

Joel shoots him a look. “You’d rather deal with the mess up there?”

Arthur considers, then sighs dramatically. “Fine. But if I get puked on, I’m makin’ you buy me a new damn coat.”

Joel just grunts, already halfway up the stairs, while Arthur turns back to the party. The moment you reach the second floor, the thumping bass fades slightly. The air is cooler up here, the chaos of the party reduced to muffled echoes below.

Joel glances back at you, suspicion in his gaze. “Where?”

You nod down the hall. “Last door on the left.”

Joel doesn’t waste a second, pushing forward. You follow, letting him step inside first. The moment he’s over the threshold, you swing the door shut behind you with a quiet click.

Joel turns, frowning. “What—?”

“She’s not up here.”

His brows knit together, realization settling in. “What the hell, darlin’?”

You take a slow step forward, and Joel—big, brooding, and absolutely clueless—actually takes a step back and sits on the bed.

“You seemed stressed,” you say lightly, tilting your head. “Figured you could use a break.”

Joel exhales sharply, shaking his head. “This ain’t funny.”

“Who’s joking?” You step closer, close enough that he can smell whatever sweet perfume clings to your skin. “Arthur can keep himself busy for a little while. And you… you look like you could use some help loosening up.”

Joel’s jaw ticks, his hands flexing at his sides. “Ain’t happenin’.”

You smirk. “Sure about that?”

Suddenly, the room tilts—not in a drunken, careless way, but in a slow, creeping blur. Joel sits on the edge of the bed, broad shoulders rising and falling with unsteady breaths. His shirt hangs open at the top, sweat beads at his temple, and his fingers dig into the mattress like he’s holding onto the last thread of his sanity.

Something is wrong.

You stand in front of him, warmth blooming in your chest—not from alcohol, but from the way he looks at you. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, his entire body wound so tight he looks ready to snap. He looks wrecked.

“Joel,” you murmur, stepping between his knees. Your fingers trail along his jaw, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. “You feeling alright?”

His throat bobs with a hard swallow, his whole body rigid beneath your touch. “Somethin’ ain’t right,” he rasps, voice thick with strain. “Shouldn’t be feelin’ this way.”

You smirk, dragging your fingers lower over the pulse hammering in his throat. “Feel what way?”

His jaw flexes, eyes darting away, searching for an anchor—something to ground him. But control is slipping through his fingers like sand.

“You,” he grits out, voice thick and strained. “You smell so damn good.”

Your grin widens, emboldened by the way his hands twitch at his sides, like he’s resisting the urge to grab you. “Maybe that’s just you finally admitting you want me.”

A low, ragged growl rumbles in his throat. Before you can tease him further, his hands shoot up, gripping your hips with a desperation that wasn’t there before. 

“Don’t play with me, darlin’,” he warns, though the heat behind it is fading fast, cracking into something more vulnerable. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his pupils dark pools of hunger and confusion. “I—I can’t think straight.”

You lean in, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Then don’t think.”

Joel exhales sharply, body trembling beneath your touch, every muscle wound tight like a drawn bowstring.

Then the door creaks open.

“What in the hell?”

Arthur’s voice slams into the moment like a bucket of ice water.

Joel curses under his breath, hands jerking away from you like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. You turn to find Arthur standing in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, his expression shifting rapidly from bewilderment to something sharper, more knowing. His sharp gaze flickers between you and Joel, taking in his disheveled state—the sweat at his temple, the way his chest heaves like he’s run a mile.

Arthur’s frown deepens. “You wanna explain why Miller looks like he’s ‘bout to keel over?”

Joel groans, squeezing his eyes shut, like he’s fighting off some invisible force. “Somethin’ was in those damn shots.”

Arthur’s face darkens. His jaw tightens, his hand dragging down his face as the realization clicks into place. “Oh, for fuck sakes.”

For the first time, you notice it—how Arthur's fingers flex restlessly at his sides, the faint flush creeping up his neck. The way his throat bobs when he swallows, like something is catching there, thick and unshakable.

You bite your lip, watching as Arthur exhales sharply. His usual composure cracking, just enough to reveal the heat flickering behind his gaze, the same one you just saw in Joel’s.

Arthur clenches his jaw, shaking his head like he can force away the sensation clawing its way up his spine. “This ain't happenin’,” he mutters under his breath, pacing in short, jerky steps, his boots scuffing against the floor.

But you see it. His fingers flex like he’s itching to touch. His gaze flickers to you, then to Joel, then back again, lingering just a second too long. He’s trying—god, he’s trying—to hold himself together, but his breath comes faster and his muscles tense beneath his shirt.

“Arthur,” you murmur, stepping toward him. Your fingers ghost over his arm, stopping his restless pacing. His muscles jump beneath your touch, his jaw locking tight as he flinches back like you’ve burned him.

“Are you feeling it too?”

A sharp inhale. A pause.

Then, in a voice stretched thin with restraint, he rasps, “Don’t.”

But there’s no real bite to it—just a desperate, fraying edge. His pupils are blown wide. His nostrils flare as his gaze flickers around the room—searching for control, finding none.

"You say that," you murmur, dragging your fingers down his chest, slow, teasing. "But you feel it too, don't you?"

Arthur’s pulse throbs under your fingertips, hot against your skin. His breath is uneven. “Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.” The words break off, swallowed by a tightness in his throat that says more than he can put into words.  “‘Bout—” He cuts himself off, like just the thought of it is too much.The way he trembles, the way his eyes darken—they’re confirmation enough.

You trace his torso before feeling the undeniable bulge beneath his jeans.

He tenses. A sharp inhale punches out of his lungs. His hips jerk forward instinctively, the thick heat of him twitching under your touch, seeping through the denim.

Arthur lets out a low, muttered curse, his resolve shattering like glass. Before you can say another word, his hands are on you.

It’s sudden—like a dam breaking. His grip is firm, almost bruising, as he yanks you in, crashing his lips against yours. Heat ignites in your veins, scorching and insatiable. You melt into him, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer. He groans into your mouth,his hands anchoring you to him, pressing you flush against him.

Behind you, Joel makes a strangled, guttural noise—something raw, something starved.

Arthur finally pulls away, his breath ragged. His forehead presses against yours, hands locked around your hips like letting go isn’t an option. His grip is possessive, claiming.

But Joel isn’t about to be left behind.

He exhales shakily, hesitation flickering in his gaze for only a second before he’s on his feet.

He closes the distance in a single step, his fingers threading into your hair, tilting your face up. And then his mouth meets yours. It’s different from Arthur—deeper, rougher, edged with something raw and desperate. His grip is sure, his hands sliding down your body, pulling you flush against him like he needs to feel every inch of you, needs to brand himself into you.

Arthur shifts behind you, a low scoff slipping past his lips. “Oh, come on, Miller.” His voice is rough, breathless, and laced with utter need. “You kissin’ her or tryin’ to romance her?”

Joel pulls back just enough to glare at him. “Least I know how to take my time, Morgan. You just gonna stand there and watch, or you gonna do somethin’?”

Arthur’s smirk is sharp as a blade. “You askin’ me to show you how it’s done?”

Before you can blink, Arthur’s hands are on you again, gripping your hips so fast your head spins. He tugs you against him, chest flush to your back, his breath hot against your ear.

“You wanna be handled right, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin. “You come to me.”

You feel it—the heat, the desperation, the all-consuming ache that quickly becomes unbearable. This isn’t just lust. It’s chemical. Something unnatural coils through their veins, winding tighter and tighter. Their hunger intensifies until it borders on agony.

“Sweetheart, you gotta tell us—" Arthur's hips jerk forward rolling against you and a strangled grunt slips from him. "—gotta tell us it’s okay, ‘cause I can’t, won’t be able to stop."

Your stomach clenches. The sharp spike of arousal sends a pulse of heat straight between your legs. They’re breaking apart, and it’s because of you.

You swallow hard, “I don’t want you to stop.”

Arthur hands are on you in a flash, tearing at your clothes like patience is a thing of the past. His lips scorch a path across your skin, demanding and relentless as his tongue explores every inch of you. He pants like he’s drowning and needs you to breathe.

Joel is no better. His large hands roam over your body, shoving under your shirt, his fingers greedily grabbing and kneading your skin.

“Darlin’, we gotta get this off,” Joel mutters, voice thick with need.

Arthur growls, yanking your shirt up and ripping it over your head in one rough motion, fabric flying to the floor. Your bra is next, unclasped in a single tug, his calloused hands immediately covering your bare skin, kneading your breasts, thumbs swiping over your stiffening nipples.

“You’re so goddamn soft,” Arthur rasps, voice wrecked, his palms mapping every inch of you.

Joel presses his lips to your skin, tongue teasing your nipples with slow, deliberate flicks before sealing around them with a hot, insistent pull. His hands trail heat down your stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans. He pulls back with a wet pop, breath warm against your skin. “Ain’t fair, Morgan. Can’t let you have all the fun.”

Joel growls, shoving your jeans down, gripping your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp.

Arthur’s fingers skim lower, finding you already soaked. His grin widens. “Fuck, sweetheart, you really want this, huh?”

“Yeah? How wet is she?”

Arthur drags his fingers through your slick folds before flicking his gaze to Joel, smug. “Why don’t you feel for yourself?”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. His hand joins Arthur’s between your legs, their fingers brushing, both of them feeling just how desperate you are.

A sharp inhale escapes you. The sensation—both their hands on you, teasing, possessive—sends a shock of pleasure straight through you.

Arthur chuckles, thick with satisfaction. “Damn. You feel that?”

Joel exhales sharply, grip tightening. “Oh yeah,” he grits out. “Feel that sweet cunt droolin’ for us.”

His fingers slip inside you, stretching you open, coaxing a moan from deep in your throat. Arthur watches, dark eyes hungry. “Gotta admit, I like hearin’ you make those sounds sweetheart.”

Joel scoffs. “Least I’m makin’ her moan.”

Arthur growls, fingers moving faster, pushing Joel’s aside like he’s reclaiming what’s his. “Let’s see who gets her beggin’ first.”

Both men grin, dark and satisfied, fingers still teasing through your slick folds. “Think she likes bein’ between us.”

Joel’s eyes burn as he watches Arthur’s hand disappear between your thighs. His jaw tightens. “Quit runnin’ your damn mouth and do somethin’.”

Arthur just smirks, fingers hooking into your panties and yanking them down, damp fabric sliding over your thighs.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream.” Joel murmurs.

Arthur scoffs. “Ain’t just gonna tell her. She deserves to feel it too.”

Joel steps back, eyes dragging over your body, chest rising and falling heavily. Arthur does the same, lips parted, a groan slipping from his throat.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Arthur mutters, fingers tracing the swell of your breasts, down the curve of your waist. “Ain’t never seen anythin’ prettier.”

Joel hums in agreement, hands following the same path, like he needs to memorize every inch of you.

Arthur’s the first to move, unbuckling his belt with a swift pull, letting it drop with a heavy clink. He shoves his jeans and boxers down, stepping free. Your breath catches.

Not to be outdone, Joel shrugs off his shirt, muscles flexing as he makes quick work of his jeans. When they fall, your mouth goes dry.

They’re both… big.

A nervous thrill rushes through you, anticipation crackling along your skin like a live wire. Arthur smirks, catching the way your eyes widen.

“Somethin’ catch your attention, sweetheart?”

Joel exhales sharply, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Bet she’s wonderin’ how she’s gonna take us both.”

Heat floods your cheeks, but the pulsing need between your thighs overpowers any hesitation. You reach for Arthur first, fingers wrapping around the base of his length, feeling the sheer weight of him. His head tips back slightly, but his eyes never leave you.

Not wanting to leave Joel waiting, your other hand wraps around him, fingers curling, testing. He sucks in a sharp breath, muscles tensing beneath your touch.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters, voice strained.

Arthur chuckles, breathless. “She’s got a good grip, huh?”

You lick your lips, heart hammering as you stroke them both, hands moving in slow, deliberate motions. The power of knowing you’re the cause of their unraveling sends a rush of arousal straight through you.

You lean in, taking Arthur first, tongue flicking against his heated skin. His hips jerk, a low growl slipping from his throat.

Joel’s hand slides into your hair, fingers threading through the strands—not to control, just to feel, to anchor himself as he watches you.

Arthur exhales a shaky breath, fingers flexing at his sides. “Hell, sweetheart… keep that up, and I ain’t gonna last.”

Joel chuckles, rough and strained. “Guess I gotta see what all the fuss is about.”

You glance up, meeting their hooded gazes before switching—lips leaving Arthur to wrap around Joel, your hand still working him as you take him deeper.

The sounds they make—needy, desperate, barely held together—send heat pooling between your thighs.

Arthur strokes a hand down your back. “You look so damn good like this, sweetheart.”

Joel exhales sharply, grip in your hair tightening just slightly. “Yeah, she does,” he agrees, voice ragged. “Come on, darlin’. Need you on the bed. Now.”

You barely hit the mattress before Arthur is on you. His mouth is hot, insatiable, kissing you like he’s got something to prove. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, messy and frantic, like he’s trying to erase every other man you’ve ever kissed. His hands grip your skin with urgency, mapping out every inch of you for himself.

Joel isn’t far behind. He crawls onto the bed, big hands sliding up your body. “Goddamn, baby,” he rasps, “you feel so damn good.”

Arthur drags his mouth down your throat, biting at your collarbone, fingers flexing against your hips as he grinds against you, shameless and eager. “Can’t stop touchin’ you,” he mutters, breath coming in heavy, hungry bursts.

Joel watches Arthur roll against you, sees the way your body arches for him, and lets out a low, frustrated sound. His cock twitches. His fingers dig into your thighs, possessive, patience unraveling.

“Goddamn,” he grits out. “I need you.”

Arthur’s head snaps up, eyes dark and burning. His chest heaves. “We need you,” he corrects, voice rough, daring Joel to challenge him.

You whimper, heat pooling low as Joel meets Arthur’s stare, something dangerous passing between them. Then Joel moves, fast, gripping your chin, tilting your head back into a deep kiss. His tongue sweeps against yours, stealing your breath, swallowing your sounds like he owns them.

Arthur watches with an intense gaze, his chest rising sharply. “Shit,” he mutters, voice strained.

Joel chuckles darkly. “Ain’t no stoppin’ now, Morgan.” He smirks, taunting, then glances down at you, his touch slow but deliberate. “She needs us.”

Arthur swallows hard, gaze flickering over you, taking in your wrecked state. His cock is flushed, leaking, aching. The sight of you between them, desperate and wanting, nearly drives him insane. “Then let’s give her what she needs.”

Joel’s fingers trail over your breast, rolling a nipple between them. You arch, whining, and his voice drops to a rasp. “Look at you. So goddamn beautiful.”

Arthur groans in agreement but refuses to let Joel take the lead. He moves lower, mouth dragging down your stomach, hands gripping your thighs, pushing them apart. He inhales sharply at the sight of your slick heat. “Christ, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking through your wetness. “All this for us?”

You nod, breathless, fingers tangling in his hair. “Please,” you whisper, wrecked with need.

Arthur doesn’t hesitate. His tongue flattens against you, moving with slow, devastating precision, determined to ruin you for anyone else.

Joel shifts beside you, watching, stroking himself. “Fuck,” he mutters, his free hand tracing over your trembling thighs. “You like that, darlin’? Like him eatin’ you out while I watch?”

Your answer is a broken moan. Your fingers tighten in Arthur’s hair as he sucks your clit, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through you. He pulls back just enough to rasp, “Wanna feel you come on my tongue, sweetheart. Be a good girl for me.” Then he’s back on you, relentless, holding you down as you writhe.

Joel grits his teeth, watching you fall apart, his strokes turning rougher, breath ragged. “Goddamn it.” His gaze burns at the way your body shakes, how your moans break into gasps.

It doesn’t take long. Pleasure coils tighter, spiraling until it snaps. You cry out, thighs trembling as you come. Arthur groans against you, licking you through every wave, refusing to stop until you’re shaking.

When you finally sag against the mattress, panting and wrecked, Arthur pulls away, wiping his mouth. His jaw is slick, eyes dark with satisfaction. “Think she liked that.” His fingers stroke over your inner thighs, teasing. “Sweet as honey.”

Joel clenches his jaw, his cock thick, heavy, flushed a deeper shade than normal. “Fuck,” he growls, gripping your thigh, spreading you wider. His voice is rough, raw with hunger. “Need to be inside ya, darlin’.”

Arthur chuckles, breathless. “That so?” He shifts up, hovering, smug. “Think I should get a turn first, Miller.”

Joel’s eyes flash. “Like hell you will.”

They hold each other’s gaze, both rock hard, both determined. Neither will be satisfied until they’ve both had you.

Arthur shifts back, but not in surrender. A challenge. He lets Joel take his place between your legs, then leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, fingers teasing down your stomach. “Tell him whose cock you wanna feel first.”

A needy whimper slips past your lips. Your legs spread wider in silent invitation. Desperation threads through your voice. “Joel—please.”

Joel groans, victorious, guiding himself against your entrance. “That’s a good girl.”

With one brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, knocking the breath from your lungs. You whimper, still trembling from your release, but Joel hushes you, voice softer now. “You can take it, baby. You want it bad, don’t you?”

The stretch burns, but it’s a sweet, aching pain drowned out by the desperate pulse of need. Joel presses his forehead to yours, his breath ragged, his hips already snapping into a deep, unrelenting rhythm. He’s relentless, making up for lost time, proving something with every thrust.

Arthur exhales sharply, his cock twitching at the sight of you unraveling beneath Joel.

A deep, broken moan rips from your throat, your fingers digging into Joel’s biceps.

“Hell baby feel so good,” he grits out, head dropping to your shoulder. “So goddamn tight.”

Arthur watches, smirking. “Damn, sweetheart. Feels good, don’t it?” He tilts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Bet you’re squeezin’ him so fuckin’ tight.”

Joel’s jaw tenses. “Ain’t gonna last if you keep talkin’ like that.”

Arthur chuckles darkly. “Then I better make it worse.”

His hand drifts lower, brushing featherlight over your swollen clit. The jolt of sensation sends a wrecked moan spilling from your lips.

Joel curses. “Son of a bitch—”

Arthur grins, circling slow, lazy strokes, watching you shudder. “What’s wrong, Miller? Too much for ya?”

Joel growls, slamming deeper. “I can handle my fuckin’ business.”

Arthur doesn’t stop, his murmured praises filthy and relentless as Joel fucks you harder, driving you into his hold. “That’s it, baby,” Joel rasps. “Takin’ it so fuckin’ well.”

Arthur presses a kiss to your jaw, fingers working you over. “Come again, sweetheart. Let him feel you clench up nice ‘n tight—then it’s my turn.”

Pleasure coils in your belly, overwhelming, consuming. Arthur watches, his grip tight around his cock, stroking in quick, eager pumps. His jaw flexes, frustration flickering in his dark gaze before he moves.

No hesitation. No warning. Just action.

His hands grip your hips, shoving Joel’s hold aside like he’s claiming you for himself. Joel doesn’t even glance back—but his fingers tighten, sensing exactly what Arthur’s about to do.

Arthur spreads you wider, pressing in beside Joel, the stretch sharp and immediate. Your body struggles to take them both.

Joel curses, breath wrecked. “You feel that, baby? Takin’ both of us like you were made for it.”

They move in tandem, one pulling out as the other pushes in, a brutal rhythm that has you seeing stars. The pressure, the stretch, the way they fill you—it’s too much, too good.

Joel’s head falls back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as his cock grinds against Arthur’s with every deep thrust. Skin slaps, breaths tangle, and they stretch you to your limit.

Then Arthur grips the back of Joel’s neck, crashing their mouths together. It’s rough, desperate—teeth clashing, tongues fighting for control.

Joel groans into the kiss, hips snapping harder, like he’s trying to fuck you so good Arthur can feel it too. He fists a hand in Arthur’s hair, yanking him closer, deepening it with a low, wrecked sound.

The sight makes your head spin. The way they lose themselves in each other, needy and ravenous, it’s intoxicating. You reach between them, wrapping your hand around Arthur’s cock pulling it from its warm home, slick from where he’s been inside you.

Arthur jerks, gasping, his eyes blown wide. He moves, shifting toward your head, his cock brushing your lips in silent demand.

You take him in, hollowing your cheeks, sucking him deep. Arthur curses, fingers twisting in your hair, guiding your movements.

Joel’s thrusts stutter, then recover—harder, relentless. “Jesus christ,” he grits out, watching the way you take Arthur. His cock twitches inside you, throbbing. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Arthur groans, hips jerking. “That’s it, sweetheart. Takin’ us so damn good.”

Joel’s mouth crashes back to Arthur’s, their kiss messy, desperate. They groan into each other, bodies moving in perfect rhythm—Joel stretching you open, Arthur hitting the back of your throat, pleasure spilling over in waves.

The tension builds, unbearable. Joel’s grip tightens, thrusts turning erratic before he shudders, spilling deep inside you with a wrecked moan, forehead pressed to Arthur’s.

Arthur isn’t far behind. His grip in your hair tightens as he comes, thick and hot down your throat, his moans swallowed by Joel’s mouth as they kiss through it. His free hand flexes against Joel’s neck, holding him close even as his hips still.

For a long moment, the only sound is ragged breathing, the slow cooling of sweat-slicked bodies. Joel presses his forehead to yours, fingers smoothing over your waist, grounding himself. Arthur trails lazy patterns over your skin—unexpectedly gentle after the desperation of moments ago.

Joel finally breaks the silence, voice low and hoarse. “What the hell was in those shots?”

Arthur lets out a breathless chuckle. “Just know I ain’t never felt somethin’ like that before.”

You hum, fingers threading through Joel’s damp curls as he nuzzles into your neck, his body still half-draped over yours. “Guess that makes three of us.”

Arthur’s fingers ghost along your hip, voice quieter now, but dark with something possessive. “Y’think it’s outta our system?”

Joel’s hand slides over your stomach, flexing like he’s already thinking about round two. “Hope not.” His smirk brushes against your skin before he nips at your shoulder. “Ain’t done with you yet, darlin’.”

Arthur chuckles, warm and dark against your ear. His teeth scrape your pulse, his hand gripping your thigh. “Reckon neither am I.”

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Mastering Your Kitchen Faucet: Exploring Pull Down Kitchen Faucet Parts

Unveiling the Mechanics: A Comprehensive Guide to Single Hole Kitchen Faucets

When it comes to the heart of your home, the kitchen, having a functional and stylish faucet can make all the difference. In this guide, we'll dive deep into the world of pull down kitchen faucet parts, exploring the inner workings of these modern kitchen essentials. Additionally, we'll shed light on the elegance and efficiency of single hole kitchen faucets, providing you with valuable insights for your kitchen upgrade.

Pull Down Kitchen Faucet Parts: Anatomy Unveiled

Kitchen Faucet Components

A pull down kitchen faucet is more than just a water dispenser; it's a sophisticated mechanism comprising several essential parts. Understanding these components can help you make informed decisions when selecting or maintaining your kitchen faucet.

1. Spout Assembly

Spout Base: The foundation of the spout that connects it to the countertop or sink deck.

Spout Neck: The elongated section of the spout that extends over the sink, directing water flow.

Aerator: A mesh screen at the end of the spout that mixes air with water to reduce splashing and save water.

Spray Head: The detachable part of the spout that houses the spray nozzle. It can be pulled down or out for flexible water flow.

2. Handle Assembly

Handle: The lever or knob that controls the water flow and temperature. In pull down faucets, the handle is often integrated into the spout or spray head.

3. Valve Assembly

Cartridge: The component inside the valve that controls the flow of hot and cold water. It's essential for smooth operation and preventing leaks.

Valve Body: The housing that contains the cartridge and connects to the water supply lines.

4. Hose and Weight Assembly

Hose: A flexible tube that connects the spray head to the valve body, allowing for the movement of the spray head.

Weight: A counterweight attached to the hose under the sink that helps retract and secure the spray head when not in use.

5. Mounting Hardware

Deck Plate: An optional plate that covers additional holes in the sink or countertop when installing a single hole faucet.

Single Hole Kitchen Faucets: Elegance in Simplicity

The Single Hole Advantage

Single hole kitchen faucets are known for their sleek and minimalist design. They are characterized by their single mounting hole requirement, which simplifies installation and offers a clean and uncluttered appearance.

Advantages of Single Hole Kitchen Faucets:

Space Efficiency: Single hole faucets save counter space, making them ideal for smaller kitchens.

Easy Installation: With only one hole to drill or use, installation is more straightforward and less time-consuming.

Modern Aesthetics: The clean lines and minimalist design of single hole faucets complement contemporary kitchen styles.

Ergonomic Operation: Single lever handles on these faucets provide easy and precise control over water flow and temperature.

Maintaining Your Pull Down Kitchen Faucet

Proper Care for Longevity

To ensure your pull down kitchen faucet functions optimally and retains its aesthetic appeal, consider these maintenance tips:

Regular Cleaning: Wipe down the faucet with a damp cloth and mild soap to remove dirt, grime, and water spots. Avoid abrasive cleaners that can damage the finish.

Aerator Maintenance: Periodically clean or replace the aerator to maintain a steady water flow. Mineral deposits can clog the aerator over time.

Check for Leaks: Inspect the hose and connections for any signs of leakage. Address leaks promptly to prevent water damage under the sink.

Lubricate Moving Parts: Apply silicone-based lubricant to moving parts like the hose and cartridge to ensure smooth operation.

Avoid Hard Water Damage: If you live in an area with hard water, consider installing a water softener to prevent mineral buildup in the faucet.

Conclusion: Elevating Your Kitchen Experience

A pull down kitchen faucet with its intricate parts and a single hole design with its elegant simplicity can transform your kitchen into a functional and stylish space. Understanding the components of your faucet and embracing the efficiency of single hole design are essential steps towards creating a kitchen that not only looks impressive but also serves you effortlessly. With proper maintenance, your kitchen faucet can be a reliable and enduring companion in your culinary adventures.

[custombuildershouston]

Kitchen Remodeling Guide & Check List

Your Design Process Plan Deliverables should include;

 Kitchen Area As Built's

 Floor Plan

 Elevation Cabinetry Drawings

 Perspective Images (2D / 3D)

Different Kitchen Design Styles

 Casual

 Contemporary

 Mediterranean / European

 Rustic

 Modern

 Traditional

 Sophisticated

 Craftsmen

 Cottage

 Country

Kitchen Layout Shapes

U-Shape

 L-Shape

 G-Shape

 Gallery

 1 Wall Kitchenette

 Inland

 Peninsula

Kitchen Components

Appliances

 Built -in Range

 Free Standing Range

 Cook Tops

 Stove Top

 Dishwasher

 Microwave

 Warming Drawer

 Free Standing Refrigerator Freezer

 Built in Refrigerator Freezer

 Wine Chiller

 Exhaust Hood - Fan

 Ice Maker

Cabinets

 Types of Cabinets

 Production Stock

 Semi-Custom

 Custom

Door Styles

 Shaker

 Louvered

 Flat - European

 Raised Panel - Inset

 Distressed

 Beadboard

 Thermofoil (Foil Wraped MDF)

 Custom

Paint Grade Wood & Plywoods

 MDF

 Melamine

 Popular

 Stain Grade Wood & Plywoods

 Birch

 Maple

 Oak - White & Red

 Alder

 Cherry

 Hickory

 Pecan

 Walnut

 Mahogany

Cabinet Accents

 Moldings - Crown,

 Split Turnings - Read, Spindal

 Over Lays - Wood Stencils

 Valances

 Corbals

 Glass Doors

Counter Tops

 Granite

 Solid Surface

 Quartz

 Laminate

 Concrete

 Eco Friendly

 Recycled Glass

 Butcherblock

 Tile

 Resin

 Marble

 Stainless Steel

 Porcelain

 Reclaimed Wood

Counter Top Edges

 Ogee

 Double Ogee

 Full Bullnose - 1-1/2

 1/2 Demi-nose - 3/4

 Eased 3/4 or 1-1/2

 Reverse Bevel

 Square 3/4 or 1-1/2

 1/4 Bevel

 Cove

 Marine

 Dupont

 Waterfall

Counter Top Backsplash

 Granite

 Tiles

 Laser Cut Tile

 Mirror Tile

 Glass Tile

 Stone

 Diagonal Tile

 Large & Small Pattern Design

 Subway Tile

 Herringbone

 Specialty Textured Shape

 Penny Tile

Stainless Steel

 Mosaic Tile

 Marble

 Embossed Metallic

 Brick Veneer

 Volcanic Rock

 Woods

Plumbing Fixtures

 Sinks

 Under mount

 Drop in

 Apron

 Triple Basin

 Double Basin

 Single Basin

 Corner

 Bar / Inland

Faucets

 Single Hole Mount

 Center Set 4 inch

 Wide Spread 8 inch

 Wall Mount

 Pull Down

 Pull Out

 Faucet / Spray

 Pot Filler

 Water Filter

Kitchen Lighting

 General Illumination Lighting

 Recessed Cans

 Incandescent Lighting

 Fluorescent Lighting

 Track Lighting

Task Lighting

 Under Counter Lighting

 Spot Lighting

Pendant Lighting

 Decorative Fixture

 Chandeliers

 Sconces

Accent Lighting

 Cabinet Lighting

 Toe Space Lighting

 Over Cabinet Lighting

Kitchen Flooring

 Stone Tiles

 Porcelain Tiles

 Wood

View Page Source:- https://www.marwoodconstruction.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/Case-Study-Home-Renovation-or-Sell-for-Lot-Value.pdf

[laurisfont]

I love my home. I love the smell of clean, washed blankets, the comfort of the single mattress, the extra-soft pillows that hug my head. I love the sound of the door when the fan blows. I love the light from the street that comes in through the bedroom window. I love the table full of cakes, bread, chocolate, cookies of all kinds, glasses of water, napkins. I love the peeling kitchen walls, the dripping faucet, the sink that's too low for me. I love the living room, its sofas (as hard as wood) covered with sheets with holes in it, the TV on the old sewing machine, the toys in the corner. I love the photo frames, full of sudden snapshots of what we once were, relaxed nights, drunken smiles, never-again hugs, affection recorded in a forever. Everything in my home has your touch. Everything in my home has your face, your smell, your simplicity. Everything in my house makes me want to stay, makes me want to look ahead and leave you in doubt. Everything in my house embraces me, comforts me, holds me, even though my house knows that I no longer belong there. My house has worries, it has bills hanging in strategic places, it has keys nearby, it has locks. My house has everything I love the most. It has you, your bad mood, your glasses, your perfume, your white hair. Inside my house, there is my house. And I miss them both.

[cliftonbathrooms]

Choosing the Right Faucet for Your Kitchen and Bathroom

Choosing the Right Faucet for Your Kitchen and Bathroom

Faucets, often underestimated, play a pivotal role in both the functionality and aesthetics of your kitchen and bathroom. At Clifton Bathrooms and Kitchens, we understand the significance of selecting the right faucets for your space. In this comprehensive guide, we'll delve into the considerations, styles, and examples to help you make an informed decision and enhance the overall appeal of your home.

Understanding Faucet Types

1. Single-Handle Faucets:

Streamlined and easy to use.

Ideal for smaller spaces where simplicity is key.

Example: The Simplicity Series – Effortless Elegance for Modern Kitchens.

2. Double-Handle Faucets:

Separate handles for hot and cold water control.

Classic and timeless design.

Example: The Heritage Collection – Vintage Charm for Traditional Bathrooms.

3. Touchless Faucets:

Hands-free operation for enhanced hygiene.

Perfect for busy kitchens.

Example: The HygieneGuard Series – Innovation Meets Convenience.

Considerations for the Kitchen

1. Spray Functionality:

Choose between stream and spray options for versatile use.

Example: The FlexiSpray Technology – Seamless Switching for Varied Kitchen Tasks.

2. Pull-Down vs. Pull-Out:

Pull-down faucets offer a tall arc, suitable for filling large pots.

Pull-out faucets provide flexibility and are perfect for compact sinks.

Example: The ErgoFlow Pull-Down – Effortless Control with High-Arc Convenience.

3. Finish Options:

Explore finishes like chrome, stainless steel, or matte black for aesthetic appeal.

Example: The LuxFinish Collection – Elevate Your Kitchen with Timeless Finishes.

Considerations for the Bathroom

1. Faucet Height:

Tall faucets add a touch of elegance, while lower profiles suit smaller sinks.

Example: The Elegance Heights – Customized Elevation for Your Bathroom.

2. Water-Saving Features:

Look for faucets with aerators or eco-friendly technologies to conserve water.

Example: The EcoFlow Series – Consciously Designed for a Greener Home.

3. Matching Accessories:

Coordinate your faucet with matching accessories for a cohesive look.

Example: The Harmony Collection – Perfect Pairings for a Stylish Bathroom Ensemble.

Installation Considerations

1. Number of Holes:

Ensure the faucet aligns with the number of holes in your sink or countertop.

Example: The VersaFit Installation – Adaptable Designs for Any Setup.

2. Ease of Installation:

Opt for faucets with straightforward installation processes for DIY enthusiasts.

Example: The QuickFit Series – Effortless Installation for Instant Gratification.

3. Maintenance and Cleaning:

Choose finishes and designs that are easy to clean and maintain.

Example: The CleanGuard Technology – Effortless Maintenance for Lasting Beauty.

Conclusion

Selecting the right faucet involves a careful balance of functionality, style, and practicality. At Clifton Bathrooms and Kitchens, we offer a diverse range of faucets designed to cater to every taste and requirement. Explore our extensive collection on our website and discover the perfect faucet that adds the finishing touch to your kitchen and bathroom spaces. Because when it comes to faucets, details matter, and we are here to help you make the right choice. Your home deserves nothing less than perfection.