#2K Paint Clear Coat

[mmogurl]

Daddy Issues Part 2: Baseline

18+ | 2k | Homelander X Reader |  protective homelander, reader’s back story is a little dark, reader might be a bit of a nympho, mentions of suicide, rape, assault, alcoholism, emotional child abuse.

My Own Writing Prompt: What if Homelander became your Daddy and was really good at it? I'm really enjoying this story so far and found myself eager to write more the next day, even after proofing a 7k chapter for my Daemon story! If you haven't read the first part yet, it's here. Part 1: Savior | Part 2: Baseline | Part 3: Spoiled | Part 4: Comfort

The first thing that strikes you about Homelander’s penthouse in Vought Tower, is how impersonal it is. It has just about as much character as the sterile white walls of a hospital room. You might even confuse it for a museum given the sheer volume of aged paintings on the walls, but most exhibitions would have more color and identity than this drab space.

You can’t help but wonder who Homelander is, because this environment certainly doesn’t tell you much. There are no pictures of him, save for the massive American flag that spans the wall behind you, and the only gaudy knick-knacks present are nonsensical shapes coated in gold. In fact, everything is gold, except for the milky white of the statues peppered throughout the floorplan, the dusky blue walls, and the brown leather couch you sit upon.

Homelander stands across from you next to the giant television screen, staring at you with an unease that you cannot place. In fact, just like his living space, he is quite difficult to read. The lingering effects of traumatic shock make this whole encounter feel even more surreal, your mind and body seeming almost disconnected from reality.

“Is this real life?” you blurt out, remembering that poor kid whose parents recorded him after he’d had dental surgery, still under the effects of anesthesia.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” he spits back with an incredulous sneer.

You quickly realize that Homelander is one of the few men in this world that actually looks kind of hot when he’s being petulant. You tuck this fun fact to the side for now.

“It’s just…” you continue as he glares at you impatiently. “I’m sitting in your home… In Homelander’s home.” The similarity between your locale and his supe name makes you laugh pointedly, an inside joke you’re sure he won’t care for. “It’s kind of far fetched, isn’t it?” you finally state rhetorically, because really it is a stretch that you would ever find yourself here and under such circumstances.

“What? I’m the Homelander. Of course I save people. It’s kind of my fucking job,” he shrugs your observation off as his brow furls in reproach.

“Ok, sure,” you agree tentatively. “But, is it also your job to take the people you save home with you?” It seemed like a valid question, but he certainly doesn’t seem to agree.

“What did you expect me to do?” he marches towards you, holding his hands up to the ceiling. “Leave you there like that?”

“Well, no…” you consider in your slow state of comprehension. “But you could have taken me to the hospital I guess.”

He scoffs with a big huff of air through his lips as he stops in front of you, his arms now crossed against his chest.

“Fat chance. They would just let you out again the moment your physical health was cleared,” he replies in an almost gloating manner, his expression now softening slightly with condescension. “Oho, no,” he waggles a finger from side to side as if to enhance the denial further. “You need someone to save you from yourself. Someone to keep you from fucking up.”

“What?” you ask, quirking your brow and crinkling your nose at him.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he cocks his head to the side slightly, clasping his hands behind his back as he begins to pace to the side, keeping his deep ocean eyes glued to you. “You’re going to stay with me for awhile. Get your act together.”

“Get my- What!? What do you even know about my life? You literally just saved me off the street and you’re making assumptions?? Acting like you know me or something?” You can’t help but get emotional. After all, being judged always makes you feel defensive.

“Oh, I know plenty, doll… Plenty,” he stops for a moment, facing you before turning directions and walking back the way from which he came. “First you’re gonna stop the drinking. Maybe we’ll even get you into some fucking therapy or a Sexaholics Anonymous support group, because there’s obviously something going on up there that’s causing you to act like this.”

“Oh yes, while I’m there, I’ll tell them how I’m being held hostage by fucking Homelander! I’m sure they’ll get a kick out of that.” You can’t help but roll your eyes and shake your head.

However, you do not expect the swift retribution that comes as he closes the gap between you both and grabs your chin, your jaw in his hand. “Do not test my patience,” he sounds furious, his voice grating against his teeth as he speaks with his lips no farther than an inch away from your face. “I’m trying to help you, you ungrateful little shit.”

He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, abruptly releasing your chin so swiftly that your head lurches back from the motion. A whirlwind of thought floods your mind. How does he know so much about you? Are you really trapped here with him and how does he intend to keep you here? Will anybody even notice your gone or bother to come looking for you? All of these questions coupled with the feeling of being seen in your rawest form by a stranger is enough to make you want to fall apart. And you certainly try your best to never cry in front of anyone if you can help it.

“And why do you give a shit?” you ask, already feeling the telltale heat of tears forming in the corners of your eyes. God damnit! “Nobody else ever has.”

The hurt in your voice is evident and you're surprised when Homelander breaks away from you. He walks off down the hall until he’s out of sight and you can hear a drawer open and shut. He returns with a somber expression on his face and a couple of tissues in his hand that he holds out. You take them swiftly, resenting that he has seen you cry, but appreciating that he has given you a way to dispose of this irritating sign of weakness.

“And how could you possibly know that? Hm?” he asks finally breaking the silence, save for your sniffling. “That nobody gives a shit. Clearly I do.”

Something twists inside your gut at being brought so low. You do not like to dwell on these feelings. You don’t want to face them if you can avoid it. But, Homelander, America’s most powerful supe, is seeing you for who you are and despite that is still claiming to care about you. Oddly enough, the disturbing nature of his rationale and how he intends to force you to change against your own wishes does not seem to linger in your thoughts.

What does stay is that he cares. For you. You cannot help the flood of unwanted leaking that spills from your eyes.

“Shh, shh,” he is suddenly consoling you. “I know what’s good for you. You’re going to be alright.” His voice is reassuring as he pats you on the shoulder and rubs soothingly in small circles. You wonder if this line is rehearsed from one of his movies because it sounds familiar and so natural, unlike everything else about him.

Regardless, you can’t help but bury your face into his stomach, turning your head to the side as you wrap your arms around his waist. You have not felt a sense of comfort like this in a very long time and you almost forget that you are weeping like a baby.

“I don’t deserve it,” you find yourself whimpering against his torso, leaving wet tear stains on his suit. “Even my parents didn’t think I was good enough to love.”

He scoffs against his lips once more. It’s not a sign of annoyance this time, but disdain for the lack of kindness you’ve received in your life. “Fuck your parents,” he says with contempt. “I’ll take care of you. Hell, I’ll be your fucking Daddy, and show you what your father clearly failed to.”

You’re blown away by his proclamation. My Daddy? What the fuck is he talking about?

You pull back and look up at him, your eyes wide and wet from crying. He looks down at you without a hint of doubt in his expression. He is completely serious.

“What didn’t he show me?” you ask almost dumbstruck by the situation. It is the only thing you can think to utter.

“That you should stop selling yourself short.” His blue eyes were clear without insinuation as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “That you’re worth more.”

Homelander’s gloved hand slid along the line of your jaw, softly, almost tenderly. And then, just like that, he snapped out of his sympathetic trance and gave you one of those camera ready grins.

“Whelp! First things first,” he said keeping that blithe expression with his cheekbones raised high as he gained some distance away from you. “I’m gonna have to get you a copy of the key card and get you some new clothes. And, I guess until I can get you your own bed, you can just sleep with me.”

He rattled all of this off as though it were perfectly normal. You know you should keep your mouth shut, but you can’t help but ask the obvious questions. “If I get a copy of the key, then what’s to stop me from leaving and going home?”

“Hah! Don’t even think about it, sweetheart,” he says with a deriding laugh. “I know where you live for one. And let’s face it! There’s nowhere you can hide from me. So taking off without permission would only serve to piss me off.” You listen as his tone mimics the ups and downs of a particularly peaked roller coaster ride, going from warning to jovial. “So, let’s not do that, alright?”

“Alright,” you agree because what else are you really going to say to the man who can laser you in half just like he did to your attempted rapist not long ago. Besides, he is being rather nice and you do hate your fucking job so much. “Do I still have to work?” you ask chaining off of that thought.

“God no,” he sneers as though the idea were outlandish. “No, you don’t have to work. In fact, I’d prefer you didn’t. You can sit around and do whatever you want. Go wherever you want. As long as you let me know and make time for me when I require it.”

You have to admit, this is sounding better and better. “What about my stuff? Can’t I just go and get it then?”

Homelander winces almost mockingly. “No can do,” he offers his feigned condolences. “I think it’s better to just start off fresh, hm? Besides, I can get you anything you want. Why bother holding onto any of that junk?” It sounds like a question, but once again is clearly more of a demand.

“What about pictures? My collectibles?” you ask, because in truth, the only things you really care about, your only good memories from your childhood, can’t easily be replaced.

He rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms, raising one hand to his chin in contemplation. “You really want to remember those assholes?”

You consider his words and begin to think he might be right. Maybe a fresh start would be best. It seemed looking back at old pictures of your mother only ever served to make you upset and bitter.

“Fine,” you acquiesce, “But I want my video games. I have a small fortune in vintage Playstation discs that I’m not letting go.”

Homelander gives you a torn little grimace, shaking his head until he’s nodding. “Fine,” he capitulates without anger.

And now it seems like you’re finally striking some kind of accord together. A baseline for how things will be between you both. It seems clear that he is a bit of a control freak and you understand that quite implicitly because you’re one as well. The only thing left to be discovered is whether or not the two of you will enjoy each other’s company or be driven crazy by it. Continue to Part 3

[wildbluesorbit]

Wounded II || JTK

…A Continuation of London

18+MDNI

Paring: Jakexreader(f)

LONDON SERIES MASTERPOST

A/N: It’s arrival is finally upon us… so sorry it only took three weeks:( I promise the wait was worth though; out of the whole series, this installment was my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE to create !! Shoutout to @tommie-gvf for editing:) I am beyond excited to hear what y'all think!

i didn't notice the last 2k words cut off (x)

Summary || Navigating through the aftermath of your argument, you can’t bring yourself to face Jake.

Content Warnings || toxic relationship, agoraphobia, haphephobia, explicit depictions of night terrors/panic attack, brief mentions of anger and physical aggression and bodily harm and murder/death and sexual assault, verbal aggression, reckless/distracted driving, brief mention of drug use, unsolicited touched, allusions to depressive and isolative episodes, [non-aggressive] unannounced entry into readers bedroom, a very brief boner lol

Word Count || 7.2k

— JAKE —

You wince at the strain of your stiff muscles propped against her bedroom door, eyes accosted by the morning light. The sequence of how the cold hard floor became your bed for the night is less than clear. Your only clues, the taste of liquor and guilt still bitter on your dry tongue, you are most likely the asshole. 

You will your aching body upwards, the pounding in your head follows your first step. You accomplish the odyssey that is the hallway to your bedroom and start on your appearance for the studio; the account of the night before depositing itself moment by moment as you ooze about your room. 

Still couldn’t get your puppy out of her little cage?

You cringe as you brush your teeth and fight your tangled tresses to loop into a low bun, a tangible distraction to repress the clawing conviction. 

I heard she won’t even let you pet her.

A huff escapes you as you slip on your socks and step into your boots. You grab your coat, intent on heading downstairs, but you instead find yourself not strong enough to withstand the gravity and accomplish your trek to the stairs; slave to the magnetic field of her bedroom door. You try to sketch out some impression of last night’s details, but clarity refuses to reveal itself to you. You study the ridges of the wooden frame and grumble to the clueless girl you pray is comatose on the other side.

The sound of your older brother calling you from downstairs breaks your spell as you shuffle towards the source.

The guy who put his hands on you has got nothing to do with me. 

Don’t you think you’ve carried this weight way too far?

Thick eyebrows furrow in your direction as a baffled Josh canvasses your face for any indication as to why you struggle to recite a simple breakfast order; your disconcerting recollections jerking you by the reins in and out of disassociation. You almost wish you could remain inviolable in your amnesic ignorance. 

When are you going to stop being so apathetic towards this?! 

You shake off your shame as you put aside the freshly delivered food on the kitchen counter for her to find after she wakes up. You lock the front door after Josh walks through and take a deep cleansing breath before you step into your car, knowing you can’t take this baggage to the studio with you. 

You don’t get to speak to me this way.

I’ll be out the door.

Your twin yells over the roar of the rumble strips from the passenger seat as you stray into the shoulder, “Jake?! The road!”

Fuck you, Jacob. 

Just another thing you have yet to do. 

You plug in at the studio, butchering and tripping over riffs of your own design. 

The completely broken and mortified look you painted on her face.

The vision curses you blunderingly dumbfounded.

“Okay, let’s take a quick five,” Josh says over his brother’s instruments while silently interrogating you from across the booth.  

You mentally rewind to realize you had completely missed your entrance.

An aggravatingly tone-deaf Sam challenges the sudden hiatus, “But we just started?”

Josh blusters his youngest brother a look that threatens unbridled rage. 

A sympathetic Danny steps in to rescue a clueless Sam from Josh’s wrath, “Sam, want to go get high?”

Like dangling shiny keys in front of a toddler, Sam’s attention is now fixated on Danny’s proposal. The two giggling men giddily scurry out of the booth up to no good. As soon as the exit door swings shut Josh stomps over to you, rolling his eyes.

He unpacks his authoritative older sibling's tone as his hands wildly comb through the air for your confession, “Okay, enough moping, out with it.”

You don’t even bother armoring a defense. You know very well you would end up confiding in Josh sooner or later. You ineptly unload every detail you can extract from memory in an iniquitous admission to your twin. 

You haven’t even finished speaking your closing statement when a pinching sting burrows against your skin as a result of Josh’s backhand assailing your bicep. You hiss through pressed lips and rub over the infliction with your opposite hand, yet you don’t dare challenge the considerably clement treatment. 

“You are such a prick sometimes, I swear,” Josh professes through gritted teeth.

You’re so consumed by your guilt you can’t even concoct an offense.

“Do you think she's going to leave- Fuck, I would never speak to me again,” you answer your own question.

Your pleading eyes frisk over Josh’s identical features, hungry for some kind of reprieving answer. Yet his same honest spirit that knots and kneads your stomach is the same one that always gravitates you towards Josh for counsel in the first place.

“I can’t answer that for you, but I think it's important you at least give her enough distance to think clearly,” Josh dismally warns. 

Your thumb and middle finger start at the crease of your eyebrow and rub outwards to your temples, tugging at your skin till your fingertips reach your hairline and fall through your tied-back strands, “Did I fuck this up, Josh?”

You almost wish you couldn’t read his expression of pessimism as Sam and Danny reenter the studio, bursting at the seams with a laughter that you can’t even fathom in this moment. Their giggles cut right through your exchange with your twin. Josh squeezes your shoulder and gives you a smirk of consolation before resettling himself in his designated portion of the booth. His way of wordlessly telling you to keep your chin up and you’d discuss it later. 

You try your best to adjourn your sins for now as you know it is time for studio work and studio work only, yet still stumble and topple through every note without a hint of grace until the very last beat of the session. 

—YOU —

”Went to the studio, will be back late.  Enjoy your day                 -J “

Jake’s handwriting on the cardboard coffee cup sleeve informs you of his whereabouts. You inhale deeply, allowing the sweet soothing aroma of your favorite roast to sweep you to a better day. You are also embraced with an alluring savory scent. You restively snatch the small paper bag on the kitchen island that rests against your drink to discover an entirely different note. 

“p.s. Jake bought you a muffin too but  I got hungry :) - the other J”

You smile to yourself and unfold the crinkled brown bag to discover the comfort of your favorite grilled chicken caprese sandwich. You giddily scurry back to your room to start your day. 

You’ve found that making lists and organizing your time usually helps your mind from wandering where it shouldn't. So, you do just that. You make your lists. You order things low in stock around the house. You check your emails. 

You know you should close your laptop once you finish your clients’ work. Yet you find your mouse hovering over a new search bar. Foolishly, the hunt for apartments has begun with only a few clicks; knowing damn well you threatened your leaving in anger and don’t plan on going anywhere.

But as you scroll through listing after listing you begin to feel like maybe it could be time to leave and move on. Maybe you are suffocating everyone, but they can’t bring themselves to tread through your undoubtedly trauma-infested waters, hoping sooner or later you’ll fall off like a rotting limb. Or maybe the problem isn’t you but your lack of a clean slate. Maybe Jake ties you to the root of the tragedy just as much as he shelters you and grounds you in its aftermath. 

Instinctively, your monitor is slammed shut as your breath begins to flee from you. Even if this is true you can't make a decision based on some childish blurt. This would take genuine rumination. Which you are incapable of, considering you aren’t a hundred percent sure this isn’t some impulsive ammunition aimed at Jake. 

You sweep your consciousness clean and distract yourself with other productivity. You journal and read and wander around till you’d find a guitar. You do whatever you can to keep yourself busy.

Before you know it, the day turns into a week. You had been going to bed early before the boys got home so you really hadn’t spoken to anyone. You hadn’t even been purposely avoiding Jake, but space is what you keep telling yourself is best for the both of you since the other night. 

It is only five in the afternoon when you hear car doors slam in the driveway from where you have been stuck in the same book for hours in the library. You instinctively shut the hardback with a smack and fly upstairs.

Even though it has been over a week, you aren’t yet ready to talk to Jake. You have certainly forgiven his assailment but you hadn’t yet figured out how to face him or his words. So you tuck yourself away in your room, never to be seen.

That is until you hear a light knocking at your door a few hours later.

You freeze, careful to not make a sound. You hope that silence will discourage whatever suitor is on the other side, enough to leave you alone. 

“It’s just me,” you hear Josh’s voice travel through your room. 

Still cautious, you impugn before moving a muscle, “Yes?”

“It's okay, Jake’s not here,” he says flatly. 

You exhale in relief but still inch the door open slowly. You guardedly investigate to discover it is, in fact, Josh and only Josh. You still greet him with narrowed eyes. 

“You can relax, sunshine, the man is on a liquor run,” Josh reassures you. 

You are accosted by his bugging eyes till he gestures to the slight gap in the doorway, “Can I come in or-?”

You ostensibly inspect him, “All right but I’m going to have to pat you for any wires.”

Josh throws his head back in a quick sharp laugh as he welcomes himself into your room, “Ha! Don’t threaten me with a good time, sunshine. But I would not spy for Jake. I’m strictly here on third-party business.”

He makes himself comfortable on your bed and sits resting against your headboard; something you’ve always admired about Josh is his ability to make home anywhere and draw close to anyone. 

Once he settles, he sets your pillows against the wall next to him and smacks his hand against your comforter a few times, ushering you to join him on your own bed. You roll your eyes with a smile and jump onto your designated spot next to him. 

You force a cheeky smile, “So to what do I owe this displeasure?”

He places his hands over his chest and feigns an offended gasp, “Well, I was just coming to check on you.”

You remind yourself that you are safe with Josh and it's only his way of showing he genuinely cares when he places his hand over yours. It's like running against the wind, but it's all you can do to not shudder and immediately pull away.

His speech carries concern as he lightly squeezes your hand, “I haven’t seen you in a few days. Is that on purpose?”

You tense a bit at the directness of his question, “Not really. You have just been going into the studio early and staying out late recently.”

“Well, just remember isolation isn’t good for anyone and-”

“Josh-,” you start but he sings over you to finish his sentence.

“...and we miss you,” he lovingly interjects. 

Your words come out sharper than you intend, “We? Who’s we?”

“Yes, we.” he mimics your satire, “Me, Danny, Sam, and especially Jake.”

“Well, obviously not too much if it's you here and not him,” your tongue instinctually retorts.

“He doesn’t want to suffocate you is all, believe me, he certainly misses you,” Josh rolls his eyes, making you curious about Jake’s behavior after your argument.

“Sunshine,” Josh cuts directly to his inquiry tired of tip-toeing, “What happened the other night?”

“Please,” you almost snort, “I’m convinced you and Jake secretly compare bowel movements. Don’t act like he didn’t already tell you every detail.”

“I mean he did,” Josh confesses, “I just want to hear what you have to say and see how you’re feeling. It might help you to talk about it.”

“Also, you’re gross,” he blurts and narrows his eyes. 

“As much as I totally want to relive your brother’s cruel words, Josh, I trust Jake told you everything like it happened but-,” you hesitate, the realization you might not like the answer just now seeping heavy into your bones, “what happened at the bar? Between Danny’s call and Jake's temper, I can tell something wasn’t right.”

Josh’s features drop with his shoulders and an exhale, “He didn’t tell you?”

You see an indiscernible visage dart across his features after you shake your head no. You recognize it as condolence as he carefully recounts that night in every stomach-knotting detail; depicting a very doleful Jake, a “bitch-for-brains loudmouth” as Josh put it and her insolent tears at Jake, followed by his solemn exit and dodged phone calls. 

Your heart writhes from its relocation in the pit of your stomach, almost sick at the thought. Your inability to leave the house is now bleeding into all aspects of his life and polluting his liveliness you loved so; a light that has seen you through the ugliest dark. 

Josh frees you from the quicksand of your spiraling thoughts with a fragmented one of his own, “He waits for you, you know?”

He must read the confusion on your face as he rephrases, coloring in the empty lines with a bit more context, “Every night- Jake- He’ll always have this stupid giddy look on his face when he tells us the good news that you should be joining that evening. And I know my brother, he genuinely believes it. I can tell he’s not being optimistic or even humoring himself, or you. Then when he shows alone, he’s never angry or upset. He’ll just tell us you were too tired or weren’t feeling up for the outing. But I swear to you- his eyes never leave the door. Even if distracted, his body is always facing the entrance. He’ll never admit it- I’m not even sure if it's a conscious habit, but he always holds out hope that you’ll show up. We all do- just can’t hold a flame up to him. I have yet to hear him speak a bad word of you or complain of your absence. He has such faith in you, more than I think you realize, and I have yet to see it dim. I’ve never seen Jake so far gone in love with someone and he only wants to see you grow.”

Your mouth opens to speak but all words seem 10,000 miles from your horizon. Your eyes begin to pool as you try to grab at any response, his last words poisoning any other ideations. Neither Jake nor you had spoken a word of “I love you” to each other since that harrowing night, much less did he mention being in love. 

You want to ask Josh a thousand questions of what he meant by that. What has Jake said? What has Jake done? How does he know for certain? You have to leave now, right? Wouldn’t that be the selfless thing to do? Yet, you can’t vocalize one.

The debut of your salty streaming eyes ushers Josh to reel in his sermon, “Look- you don’t have to say anything- unless you want to. I definitely want to hear but I don’t want to pry. And I don’t tell you this to make you feel bad, I’m just trying to give him some credit and it's something I thought you should take into consideration. Just in case you felt as if that might be impeding you. So when you do return, that's one less thing off your plate. I promise no one will look at you differently. We're all just so eager and ready to have you back by our side again.”

His immediate addition is an exact echo of his brother, “No rush though. You do what feels right, sunshine.”

You swipe at your glossy cheeks and only nod in understanding, still unable to grasp a word. 

“Alright, I also just wanted to let you know we have a flight in the morning and  we’re out of town for the next few days,” he steers the conversation in a less hazardous direction. 

“So you’ll have the house to yourself,” he playfully wags his finger in your face, “and no ragers, young lady. I mean it!” 

“No promises, but I’ll see you when you get back,” you pucker your lips, caperingly blowing him a kiss. 

“Unless you want to be a stowaway? No one would stop you,” his eyes grow wide along with his smile; the same one that always grants you such safety when it appears on his twin. 

You lark, “But then when would I have my party?!”

“Ah, clever girl,” he accepts his defeat. 

Josh takes liberty and scoots down to lay cozy in your bed, indicating he is going to regale you with his illustriously dazzling conversation. And he does. You catch up with each other on your weeks and he tells you what they plan to do on their trip. You ask him how Sam and Danny are doing, and then Jake.

Just as he's illustrating an anecdote of some embarrassing and eccentric stunt Sam pulled to infuriate Jake today, you hear the heavy steps of tired boots coming up the stairs. 

Josh’s story is totally derailed by his twin, “He sure is heavy-footed for someone so small.”

“You know you’re just as-” you start. 

“For my whole life, unfortunately,” he shakes his head in a faux grief. 

“Well, we have an early start and I was told I can’t be late this time,” he rolls his eyes, “I better head to bed.”

Josh exuberantly springs from the mattress to his feet and theatrically bows in a goodbye, knowing better than to attempt any sort of embrace. 

He pulls away to make eye contact, “Be right back, call if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you throw him one last jest, “Have a safe flight and don’t forget Sam’s leash!”

“Please, he’s Danny’s pet, not mine,” he scoffs and saunters towards the door, “goodnight, sunshine, love you.”

You tell Josh goodnight and return his love before he winks you goodbye and gently shuts your door, disappearing behind it. 

You giggle as the sounds of him dramatically stomping down the stairs in a motion to Jake’s prior thuds through your room. 

That night, sleep hides itself away from you. Josh’s words chase each other, crashing and rattling around your head like a pack of rabid wolves. With each passing second you can’t help but think of the warm-bodied man down the hall from you. 

Is he fast asleep, unbothered by you? Is he awake? Is he thinking of you too? Does your presence burden him? Is he fighting the urge to come see you? Is your name on his lips?

Your racing thoughts are broken by the trudging of a sleepy, no doubt grumpy, Jake. 

The footsteps travel from his room and seem to concentrate as they get closer to your door, until directly in front. You hold your breath as you hear Jake mutter something and hiss in frustration. You’re only able to make out his last words as they barrel from his throat. 

“Please, just- be here when I get back,” he implores the silence of an empty hallway.

Your chest pounds erratically, your heart threatening to escape its cage. It’d only been a week but you don’t realize how much you ached for him until your bones entered a state of conniption at the sound of his slumber-rasped voice. 

You know he assumes you’re asleep and these words aren't yours to hear. You can’t help but wonder if this is the first night he’s addressed your inanimate door. Your malaised heart sings a mourning song to the resentful tune of Jake’s boots dragging him towards the stairs and away from you.

A decent night’s sleep still refuses to slip into your covers with you, so it's the sun that puts you to bed. The next few nights prove the same. You try your best to fix your sleep pattern, performing laborious tasks during the day to tire yourself out but it renders useless.

You refuse to take any kind of relaxant, as the haze always takes you back to a sensation you never want to return to. You aren’t sure if it's Josh’s words or another bad storm on your horizon, but you have become an insomniac. 

It has only been 4 days, but each one is a bit more challenging than the previous; today rains over you like a hailstorm. 

You don't want to get out of bed. You don’t want to get up to use the bathroom. You don’t want to shower or get dressed. You don’t even want to eat.

You have no wants, only musts.

You must get up, must relieve yourself, must shower, must dress, and you must eat. Or you will not survive. You will die here, swallowed whole by nothingness. No one is here to tell you what to do. No one is coming to your rescue. 

Something different. Routine is a consistent companion until it is your cage.

A break. You convince yourself you need an unfamiliar happening to overwhelm your senses. An affair to shock you back to your feeble bubble of fleeting stability. A change in scenery.

You find yourself in a hysteric pace around that front door. There is nothing to lose at this point. No one here to witness if you fail. Everyone’s words run through you.

There is no rush.

But there is. You are already behind. This house is running out of oxygen. You are already rotting here. This habit will soon blur into home. 

You take a deep breath and turn the knob. Not daring to chart with eyesight first, you fling yourself through that open door as if at any moment you might be sucked back inside. 

The air enwraps you, brisk and cool. The undeniable fragrance of a distinct autumn breeze interrupts its commute, reminding you of how miserable you’ve been without it. Your sight is allured by your new porcelain shade in the sun; you have prodigiously neglected your melanin to a pallid skin tone you’ve never worn before. 

You propel forward, telling yourself to just keep moving. You secure your place at the end of the extensive driveway and unwisely decide you can make it down the sidewalk.

You should know better than to think you could outsmart panic without strategy. You feel storm clouds roll in thick all around you; and wherever there’s rain, thunder is sure to follow.

Suddenly the boundless reaches of the stratosphere isn’t enough to save you from the suffocation of the world crumbling fast around you. You pivot until you’re barreling back down the path you came. You almost lunge through the door and lock yourself back inside.

You gait about the living room performing your breathing and self-soothing exercises. All children’s play in the wake of your hijacking terror. You eventually catch your breath but the tremors bond with you. 

Whatever was eating at you earlier was only amplified by your brief spontaneous journey outside of the house. But you had foolishly led the demon inside with you, it is now clawing at the walls and howling throughout the halls. 

You search for sleeping pills having no hope to rest organically tonight, accepting their necessity to your survival. You only look at your bed before deciding it's not even worth the noble fit of tossing and turning. You make sure you are ready for bed before scurrying into Jake’s room and crawling under his sheets. Yet you still can’t shake the feeling of a lurking apparition. 

However, the ingested medication now emanating throughout your bloodstream is impervious to your stalking condemnation. You anchor your antidote to the soothing aroma of Jake present in his bedsheets as you are shoved into void. 

You recognize the alley as soon as you are there. Beads of frigid rain pelt against your pink achy skin. The crying sky creates a misty halo against neon lights and coats everything it dances upon with a bleary gloss.

You are pinned against the wall in an instant by that vicious and nauseating smile. You try to fight but all at once you are being poked and prodded and beaten into an involuntary submission. Until your rescuer arrives.

Too enervated to attempt escape as your oppressor is distracted, Jake lunges forward. Yet he never makes contact before he falls to the ground, a dark red dye seeping from his center into his clothes. You somehow escape your attacker to see him wielding a blade.

You run to where Jake is withering away on the glittering asphalt. You attempt to cradle him, but he hisses at your touch. 

Despite his wounds, he is the one to console you, telling you you’re perfect like he always does. Your only power remains in a helpless squeeze of his hand as he pours out onto the slick black top and you see his light flicker out. 

 – JAKE –

The headlights of the car illuminate your home sweet home as the chauffeur pulls up the driveway. The incline of the path almost causes light to leak into her bedroom window, where you hope she is fast asleep, deep enough that she won’t be bothered by the slight brightness.

You got home two days earlier than expected and you plan on surprising her in the morning. 

God, how you have ached for her, lit yourself on fire for her; all to let it sift through your grasp over some drunken slurs. You wanted her to have space, but hope tomorrow will hold mercy for you as you can’t restrain yourself any longer. 

The driver reaches the house and Josh and you exhaustedly crawl out of the vehicle. You retrieve your luggage before sluggishly dragging it and yourselves to the front door. You swear you grow weary with each second of jangling keys as Josh absentmindedly sifts through each metal shard; standing helpless till he feels the right shape in his hand. The click of the lock barely registers as you are greeted by the cool A/C of the foyer and the smell of home. 

All vitality spent on your journey, neither of you has spoken a word since you landed. As you start to head your separate ways, you bid each other goodnight through a silent nod. 

Only for it to be ambushed by her petrifying heart-grating scream, “JAKE?! JAKE?!” 

One might only assume you’re prey to predators the way you instinctively soar to the stairs, up to your level, and towards her room. Without a word, you hear Josh’s footsteps apace behind you. 

You almost slam into her door moving so fast. You swing it wide open, mouth agape as she is nowhere in sight. Your heart pounds in your temples as panic now starts to clamp tight around your chest. The only other time you recall this measure of a corrosive dread being the night you couldn’t find her anywhere at that party. 

“JAKE?!”

Another scream immediately reveals her location to you. You dart out of her room, down the hall, and into yours.

There she is. Under the warm glow of your salt lamp-lit room, wrapped in your covers, leaking eyes scrunched shut, a lump of muffled indiscernible murmurs and whimpers, and visibly shaking. 

“I think she is just having a nightmare,” you authoritatively order Josh out of the room, “I’m going to wake her, but you should go, I don’t want to overwhelm her.”  

You pad towards the bed and caress whatever limb you contact first, buried underneath your blankets. Gently, you begin to coo her to consciousness.

She springs to life, petrified by your unrecognizable silhouette under the poor lighting and only just emerged from her dream state. Clumsily, she slips off the bed and tumbles to the floor, disoriented and gasping for air.

The thud from her spilled limbs on the hardwood floor nearly syncs with yours, as your knees plunge to the cold surface the moment you register her fall.

You place your palms visibly out to her, indicating her safety, “Hey- It’s me. It's Jake. I’m home.”

“No- Jake- you- he- he’s gone,” she bewilderedly sobs out almost in a question. 

You aren’t sure if she is referring to your trip or something she saw in her dream and is convinced is reality.

You keep trying to rip her from whatever hallucination has its jaws around her, “No, baby, you're safe. You’re home with me, in Nashville. I got in early.” 

She finally seems to digest your words, her glassy eyes [partially] pacified by your newly registered presence before whispering your identification, “Jake?”

When it comes to her, your first instinct is always a consoling touch, but you have learned an unsolicited embrace only runs her further from your protection. However, you have to try. 

“Yes, babygirl,” you reassure before you approach, not wanting to spook her, “can I come near you?”

You’re astounded when she only responds by leaping into your lap and wrapping herself around your torso. 

Within an instant, your arms have gratefully found their seal around her waist. Your calloused fingertips ever so slightly sink into her buzzing flesh, wrestling with every muscle, willing yourself not to tear her apart. How have you starved for the shape of her, the weight of her, the warmth of her very skin. Fuck- to finally hold her again feels so fucking good. 

“Jake- this time- and- he got you- then you-,” she fights through stuttering breaths.

“Hey, no more of that,” you gently assert to sedate whatever terroristic figments are plaguing her in your arms, “I’m here now. I've got you.”

Still trembling, she nuzzles her face into your neck and hysterically rasps out, “Jake, please don’t leave me. I can’t- Jacob, I love you. I can’t lose you. I can’t take it!”

You have no idea as to what she saw in her nightmare, only that you have never seen one leave her this rattled. You can feel her at war with her own breath as her panic continues to steal it from her.

A trick from the therapist resurfaces and you take the dips of her waist within your firm grasp to briefly withdraw her from your embrace, “Hey, I’ve got you, but I need you to listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on what I’m saying, okay?”

You don’t wait for her to respond before taking her hand and running it across the material of your blue corduroy jacket, “You feel that? It's your favorite jacket of mine, the one you always steal when we go for a drive.”

You ever so slightly draw yourself back in closer to her, “I need you to take a deep breath. Smell that? It’s the cologne you bought me for my birthday?”

She concentrates on her inhalation, occupied with taking an exaggerated breath. She slowly begins to nod.

You can see the sensory stimulation starting to ground her so you attempt to redirect her focus, “And what did I promise? I need to hear you say it.”

She takes a long shaky breath, “You- You said no more leaving. You promised.”

You place her jaw safely within the shelter of your palm and press your forehead to hers; without warning, you’re captivated by a time of exigency to live off the same breath as her.

“That’s right, and I’m here now and I’m not leaving you again,” you vow.

You scoop her back into your arms and off the floor. She clings to you as you turn off the lamp and cradle her back into the fortress of your bed, curling up around her for safekeeping. 

You caress and console and coo until finally, her quaking stops and breathing evens out as she is welcomed back to slumber. The rhythmic rising and falling of her rib cage underneath your touch lulls you into your own dormancy. 

 – JAKE –

The headlights of the car illuminate your home sweet home as the chauffeur pulls up the driveway. The incline of the path almost causes light to leak into her bedroom window, where you hope she is fast asleep, deep enough that she won’t be bothered by the slight brightness.

You got home two days earlier than expected and you plan on surprising her in the morning. 

God, how you have ached for her, lit yourself on fire for her; all to let it sift through your grasp over some drunken slurs. You wanted her to have space, but hope tomorrow will hold mercy for you as you can’t restrain yourself any longer. 

The driver reaches the house and Josh and you exhaustedly crawl out of the vehicle. You retrieve your luggage before sluggishly dragging it and yourselves to the front door. You swear you grow weary with each second of jangling keys as Josh absentmindedly sifts through each metal shard; standing helpless till he feels the right shape in his hand. The click of the lock barely registers as you are greeted by the cool A/C of the foyer and the smell of home. 

All vitality spent on your journey, neither of you has spoken a word since you landed. As you start to head your separate ways, you bid each other goodnight through a silent nod. 

Only for it to be ambushed by her petrifying heart-grating scream, “JAKE?! JAKE?!” 

One might only assume you’re prey to predators the way you instinctively soar to the stairs, up to your level, and towards her room. Without a word, you hear Josh’s footsteps apace behind you. 

You almost slam into her door moving so fast. You swing it wide open, mouth agape as she is nowhere in sight. Your heart pounds in your temples as panic now starts to clamp tight around your chest. The only other time you recall this measure of a corrosive dread being the night you couldn’t find her anywhere at that party. 

“JAKE?!”

Another scream immediately reveals her location to you. You dart out of her room, down the hall, and into yours.

There she is. Under the warm glow of your salt lamp-lit room, wrapped in your covers, leaking eyes scrunched shut, a lump of muffled indiscernible murmurs and whimpers, and visibly shaking. 

“I think she is just having a nightmare,” you authoritatively order Josh out of the room, “I’m going to wake her, but you should go, I don’t want to overwhelm her.”  

You pad towards the bed and caress whatever limb you contact first, buried underneath your blankets. Gently, you begin to coo her to consciousness.

She springs to life, petrified by your unrecognizable silhouette under the poor lighting and only just emerged from her dream state. Clumsily, she slips off the bed and tumbles to the floor, disoriented and gasping for air.

The thud from her spilled limbs on the hardwood floor nearly syncs with yours, as your knees plunge to the cold surface the moment you register her fall.

You place your palms visibly out to her, indicating her safety, “Hey- It’s me. It's Jake. I’m home.”

“No- Jake- you- he- he’s gone,” she bewilderedly sobs out almost in a question. 

You aren���t sure if she is referring to your trip or something she saw in her dream and is convinced is reality.

You keep trying to rip her from whatever hallucination has its jaws around her, “No, baby, you're safe. You’re home with me, in Nashville. I got in early.” 

She finally seems to digest your words, her glassy eyes [partially] pacified by your newly registered presence before whispering your identification, “Jake?”

When it comes to her, your first instinct is always a consoling touch, but you have learned an unsolicited embrace only runs her further from your protection. However, you have to try. 

“Yes, babygirl,” you reassure before you approach, not wanting to spook her, “can I come near you?”

You’re astounded when she only responds by leaping into your lap and wrapping herself around your torso. 

Within an instant, your arms have gratefully found their seal around her waist. Your calloused fingertips ever so slightly sink into her buzzing flesh, wrestling with every muscle, willing yourself not to tear her apart. How have you starved for the shape of her, the weight of her, the warmth of her very skin. Fuck- to finally hold her again feels so fucking good. 

“Jake- this time- and- he got you- then you-,” she fights through stuttering breaths.

“Hey, no more of that,” you gently assert to sedate whatever terroristic figments are plaguing her in your arms, “I’m here now. I've got you.”

Still trembling, she nuzzles her face into your neck and hysterically rasps out, “Jake, please don’t leave me. I can’t- Jacob, I love you. I can’t lose you. I can’t take it!”

You have no idea as to what she saw in her nightmare, only that you have never seen one leave her this rattled. You can feel her at war with her own breath as her panic continues to steal it from her.

A trick from the therapist resurfaces and you take the dips of her waist within your firm grasp to briefly withdraw her from your embrace, “Hey, I’ve got you, but I need you to listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on what I’m saying, okay?”

You don’t wait for her to respond before taking her hand and running it across the material of your blue corduroy jacket, “You feel that? It's your favorite jacket of mine, the one you always steal when we go for a drive.”

You ever so slightly draw yourself back in closer to her, “I need you to take a deep breath. Smell that? It’s the cologne you bought me for my birthday?”

She concentrates on her inhalation, occupied with taking an exaggerated breath. She slowly begins to nod.

You can see the sensory stimulation starting to ground her so you attempt to redirect her focus, “And what did I promise? I need to hear you say it.”

She takes a long shaky breath, “You- You said no more leaving. You promised.”

You place her jaw safely within the shelter of your palm and press your forehead to hers; without warning, you’re captivated by a time of exigency to live off the same breath as her.

“That’s right, and I’m here now and I’m not leaving you again,” you vow.

You scoop her back into your arms and off the floor. She clings to you as you turn off the lamp and cradle her back into the fortress of your bed, curling up around her for safekeeping. 

You caress and console and coo until finally, her quaking stops and breathing evens out as she is welcomed back to slumber. The rhythmic rising and falling of her rib cage underneath your touch lulls you into your own dormancy. 

the last scene cut off (x)

pretty please let me know what you think :))

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[amrutatbrc1]

Automotive Refinish Market 2024 : Size, Growth Rate, Business Module, Product Scope, Regional Analysis And Expansions 2033

The Automotive Refinish Global Market Report 2024 by The Business Research Company provides market overview across 60+ geographies in the seven regions - Asia-Pacific, Western Europe, Eastern Europe, North America, South America, the Middle East, and Africa, encompassing 27 major global industries. The report presents a comprehensive analysis over a ten-year historic period (2010-2021) and extends its insights into a ten-year forecast period (2023-2033).

Learn More On The Automotive Refinish Market: https://www.thebusinessresearchcompany.com/report/automotive-refinish-global-market-report

According to The Business Research Company’s Automotive Refinish Global Market Report 2024, The automotive refinish market size is expected to see strong growth in the next few years. It will grow to $16.20 billion in 2028 at a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 6.9%. The growth in the forecast period can be attributed to higher accident rates, the rise of OEM (Original Equipment Manufacturer) standards, the rise of do-it-yourself (DIY) culture, stricter regulations on emissions, and changes in vehicle ownership patterns. Major trends in the forecast period include innovations in refinishing products, developments in paint and coating technologies, advancements in skilled technicians, advancements in digital color matching technology, and technological advancements.

The rise in instances of accidents and vehicle damages is expected to propel the growth of the automotive refinish market going forward. The main causes of the rise in instances of accidents and vehicle damages include driver behavior such as speeding, distracted driving, and drunk driving, as well as unsafe road infrastructure and vehicle design. Automotive refinishing is used for repairing and restoring vehicle exteriors after accidents or damages, ensuring aesthetic and structural integrity. It helps maintain the vehicle's appearance and resale value. For instance, in May 2022, according to an estimate published by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA), a US-based federal agency, the number of fatalities in motor vehicle traffic crashes increased by 10.5%, with an estimated 42,915 deaths in 2021 compared to 38,824 fatalities in 2020. Therefore, the rise in instances of accidents and vehicle damages is driving the growth of the automotive refinish market.

Get A Free Sample Of The Report (Includes Graphs And Tables): https://www.thebusinessresearchcompany.com/sample.aspx?id=17087&type=smp

The automotive refinish market covered in this report is segmented –

1) By Product Type: Primer, Base Coat, Top Coat, Clear Coat 2) By Material Type: Polyurethanes, Acrylics, Alkyd 3) By Technology: Solvent Borne, Water Borne, Ultraviolet (UV) Cure 4) By Applications: Passenger Vehicle, Commercial Vehicle 5) By End User: Original Equipment Manufacturer (OEM), Aftermarket

Major companies operating in the automotive refinish market are focusing on technological advancements, such as low-gloss clearcoat systems, to better serve customers. A low-gloss clearcoat system is a type of automotive clear coat that can reproduce a range of gloss levels, making it ideal for applications that require a matte or satin finish rather than a high-gloss shine. For instance, in May 2021, PPG Industries Inc., a US-based paint and coating manufacturing company, launched a new waterborne low-gloss clearcoat system consisting of two high-quality 2K acrylic urethane clears. This system can achieve a variety of gloss levels, making it perfect for specialized refinish repairs on low-gloss finishes. This new clearcoat system is part of PPG's broad range of clearcoats designed to meet diverse bodyshop and OEM needs. This range includes their award-winning CERAMICLEAR line as well as Matt and Express Clearcoats. PPG also offers a comprehensive selection of hardeners and thinners, facilitating a wide array of repair processes, from spot repairs to complete resprays, in various temperatures and body shop conditions.

The automotive refinish market report table of contents includes:

1. Executive Summary 

2. Automotive Refinish Market Characteristics

3. Automotive Refinish Market Trends And Strategies

4. Automotive Refinish Market - Macro Economic Scenario

5. Global Automotive Refinish Market Size and Growth ..........

32. Global Automotive Refinish Market Competitive Benchmarking

33. Global Automotive Refinish Market Competitive Dashboard

34. Key Mergers And Acquisitions In The Automotive Refinish Market

35. Automotive Refinish Market Future Outlook and Potential Analysis

36. Appendix

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[the-spoken-wheel]

after that rant last night, I walked out to check on the frame and fork this afternoon and I have to admit - the white is growing on me. Turned off the lights and the glow effect seems better today, but looks like it was put on with a wet mop vs even color. I guess that can't be helped, it is a rattlecan and not a finish shot in a professional booth.

Either way, I think even though it doesn't look particularly great right now that I can build off of what's already done. I did put a single can of 2k on yesterday, and it will take some time to cure. It will also take most of a week to order new paint, so win/win, eh?

I wouldn't need tons of basecoats since is already white underneath now, would just need to touch up a couple of places. I think I can ever so barely scuff this clear once it cures - and we're talking like a wet sand with 800 here - and then just add more coats of the glow then the clear. It's worth a shot, at least.

It's either that or sand it back down to the frame again and start all over. So yeah, I'm good with throwing another $60 at this to see if I can make it right first.

[angelcoating]

Buy PU Metal, High gloss PU Metalic Paints at affordable prices in Ahmedabad ✏️ Types of PU Metal; 1) 2K PU Clear Glossy 2) 2K PU Primer Surface White (High Build) 3) 2K PU DG White ✏️ Packaging Size : 1 Ltr, 4Ltr, 20 Ltr 📱 Call Now : +91 94290 02704 🌐 Buy Now : https://zcu.io/ujmq #PUMetal #PUMetalPaints #AngelCoating #Angel #Coating #PU #Metal #2KPUClearGlossy #2KPUDGWhite #2KPUPrimer #PUMetalicPaints #PUMetalSteelCoating #PUPolish #PolyurethanePaintforMetal #PolyurethaneCoating #PUforWood #WoodCoating #Ahmedabad #Gujarat #India

[eis123456]

10 Things Auto Body Store Technicians Must Know

Generally, the higher the current ratio, the larger the "cushion" between current obligations and a firm’s ability to pay them. Let us come to you with our GPR coaching and get your hands on our award-winning tools! Our consultants will cover everything you should know with G... Aluminum body work has turn into more prevalent since Ford launched its aluminum-bodied 2015 F-150. Aluminum body work was performed prior to the 2015 F-150’s release, but solely on certain high-end vehicles and specific hoods and tailgates. The new resolution includes a spray gun and a disposable nozzle.

Secondly, if the shop is a protracted way from your home, getting your vehicle might pose an inconvenient problem. Whether this is higher towing and transportation charges, or just just the time it’ll take to drive there. Only in uncommon instances do you should have your automotive repaired greater than two hours away out of your location.

Trunk Strength — The capability to use your belly and decrease back muscular tissues to help part of the body repeatedly or continuously over time with out "giving out" or fatiguing. Critical Thinking — Using logic and reasoning to establish the strengths and weaknesses of alternative solutions, conclusions, or approaches to issues. Heat material or workpieces to organize for or complete manufacturing. Training and Teaching Others — Identifying the educational needs of others, developing formal academic or coaching packages or lessons, and educating or instructing others. Handling and Moving Objects — Using palms and arms in handling, installing, positioning, and shifting materials, and manipulating things.

Allows optimum integration of clear coats/colours 2k to partially painted areas. Additive for fade-out spraying, geared mainly in the direction of the ‘spot repair’ market. 2K clear coat in aerosol format that facilitates the application of the product both vehicle body repair product for small touch-ups and full parts, offering an optimal final end result. Removes holograms and leaves a lengthy lasting deep gloss shine.

We imagine that it is great for contact up work and different useful jobs, as it's a one-part spray system. With a broad range of matching colours for both popular older models and newer vehicles. Our accident repair centre trusts that it is handy for restoring scratched surfaces as properly as paintable accessories, due to this fact is a good alternative when finishing paintwork repair. Of late, aluminum our bodies have turn out to be a sizzling matter to the business.

Tell your viewers in no unsure terms what they have to do subsequent. Provide more than one way to respond - by telephone, by web site, by visiting your store - to make it straightforward for customers to schedule an appointment. Your provide ought to have value to your customers and be time-limited to get the best response within the shortest amount of time. Not solely will nearly anyone take a free calendar, they'll additionally use it 365 days a yr. Print calendars that spotlight key automotive milestones, corresponding to when tires and oil ought to be modified, together with a name to motion to get their service scheduled.

It should be added to Versis, Multyfiller Grip and Multyfiller Express primer filler in moist on moist applications. This product actually comes into its personal when mixed with the model new state-of-the-art clear coat Kronox 3200 and the new primer Velox, which requires 10% of this additive within the combine. UHS hardener for Kronox 3200 out there in slow, commonplace, quick and extremely quick speed. We make particular point out to K38 ultra quick hardener which helps to realize unparalleled drying speed at this stage of end and durability. Ease of software, shine and extraordinary levelling.

We have discovered that the main pros of this paint is that it's a UV-resistant formula, it hardens in a few hours and has good weather resistance. Sika aftermarket solutions have been driving the automotive industry worldwide for more than 40 years. Click on the timeline to see Sika’s trendsetting historical past for safer, sooner, easier functions which are compatible with assisted driving applied sciences and on high have a low environmental impression. “The very first thing to contemplate when buying aluminum tools is contamination,” Dent Fix’s Preston says. “Most outlets have metal and aluminum work taking place in a shared house. This means there are air-borne steel contaminates that might contaminate the aluminum panel by way of a course of referred to as galvanic corrosion."

Unless you’re opening a niche enterprise, your facility must be simple for patrons to search out. Creating a marketing strategy is work, but planning is the key to creating a enterprise that may prosper. Hopefully, your marketing strategy will present you and anyone you propose to do enterprise with just how good an investment you’re making. Then once vehicle body repair product more, you could discover that going through the method demonstrates that your thought simply doesn’t pan out. Much of your analysis can be utilized repeatedly as you search for a location or acquisition that works. You see the samples with charts, graphs and spreadsheets and mutter to your self, “I’m comfy working on cars, however I can’t do this stuff!

My good friend says he had always needed to personal a sports bar. He felt that he had researched his determination and jumped in with every thing he had. In reality, that’s how most businesses vehicle body repair product start – and why so many fail. I lately met with a new entrepreneur who’s having bother within the first yr of his business – a sports bar.

[sheenlac]

Sheenlac Paints: Wall Paint Colours | Wood Coating Paints

Sheenlac Paver Coat 2K WB PU is a two-pack water-based polyurethane paint for direct application over prepared concrete/cement floor and stone types. The product can be used for interior & exterior applications moreover, it delivers superior durability and colour retention. Sheenlac Paver Coat 2K WB PU is a two-pack water-based polyurethane paint for direct application over prepared concrete/cement floor and stone types. The product can be used for interior & exterior applications moreover, it delivers superior durability and colour retention.

Sheenlac WRITE-OFF is a two-pack water-based coating which can convert almost any paintable surface into an easy-erase whiteboard by use of appropriate primers and surface preparation methods. It can be applied on drywall, wood, cement and metal. Buy Opulence Primer that protects all kinds of wood coatings from impurities & resins. Know more about wood colour Coatings at Sheenlac.

There are a wide variety of water-based decorative paints available on the market today, each with its own unique properties and benefits. For example, some paints are designed to resist fading or staining, while others may be more effective at hiding imperfections or creating a certain type of finish. Sheenlac water-base interior wood polish is a PU based heavy duty polish with a glossy or matt finish that dries quickly to a crystal clear film.

Sheenlac Paints is a renowned paint company that has been serving the painting needs of customers for over two decades. The company offers a wide range of paint products for both residential and commercial applications. Sheenlac Paints is known for its high-quality products and excellent customer service. The company has a team of experienced and knowledgeable professionals who are always ready to assist customers in choosing the right paint products for their specific needs. Sheenlac Paints is committed to providing customers with the best possible painting experience and always strives to exceed their expectations.

Sheenlac Paints is known for its high-quality standards, and its products are backed by a strong warranty. The company has an extensive network of dealers and distributors, making it easy for customers to find the nearest outlet. Sheenlac Paints also has an online store, making it convenient for customers to purchase products from the comfort of their homes.

There are many different types of wall paint colours and wood coating paints available on the market. You can choose from various colours and finishes to suit your taste and style. Whether you want a glossy finish or a matte finish, there is an Aerosol paint colour and wood coating paint to suit your needs. If you are looking for a specific colour, you can find many different shades and hues to choose from. You can also find many other brands of wall paint colours and wood coating paints, so you can find the perfect one to suit your budget.

[rdpshop]

Are you painting with the right clear? Many don't know the difference between 2k and 1K clear. Learn the difference and correct application

[blackleatherjacketz]

When In Rome

Orestes (Agora) x Female Reader

Summary: You travel back in time and run into Orestes who makes sure you are very taken care of.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Power Play/Imbalance, Bathing Together, Bath Sex, Water Sex, Vaginal Sex, Kissing, Tattoos, Togas, Torches, Time Travel, The Butterfly Effect, Ancient Rome/Egypt, Roman Baths, The Night Sky

Word Count: 2k+

Read more Oscar stories HERE!

The warm water surrounds your naked body as you allow yourself to sink deeper into it, steam slowly snaking its way into your pores as the woman who helped you get undressed disappears behind an archway. You weren’t exactly sure what was going to happen to you once they separated you from Jack. You could have been put in jail, sold into slavery or even executed, so a meal of bread and wine followed by a hot bath seemed like a pleasant enough alternative.

“Your companion is just a few rooms away,” a man starts speaking to you as he enters the room, almost as if he were waiting for the handmaiden to leave before addressing you. “If your thoughts still linger on him.”

He’s dressed just like the other soldiers who found you on the dirt road today, only with more adornments fixed onto his wardrobe. The armor on his chest reflects the light of the torch without any blemish, letting you know that he hasn’t done much fighting lately despite the scars on his face and hands. The cloth draped around his shoulder is a deep crimson, bleeding into different shades of red and gold before fading into a light cream around its tips. His charcoal curls remain tucked behind his ears as they cascade down the back of his neck, making you wonder if you had ended up in ancient Greece or ancient Rome; or if maybe you were somewhere else entirely.

“He’ll be safe here tonight,” he starts again, pointing in your direction, “Both of you will be. He’ll be given all the wine, food and comfort he could possibly need.” He removes his sandals by the spot you placed your clothes earlier, noting their unique design before taking the cloth off of his shoulder. “I hope you were offered the same accommodations in my quarters?”

His quarters… right. So he owns this house, and from what you remember of high school history class, most of the people who helped you, too.

You nod as he looks at you, his handsome face coming into full view as the flame on the wall licks at the warm air just above him. It casts a golden hue onto his skin as he takes his armor off with the rest of his clothes, setting everything down in a neat pile next to yours as the definition of his muscles becomes more apparent. He stands up and lets you see him, all of him as a peppering of black curly hair trickles down his trunk between his legs as you do your best not to stare in awe. He’s a wonder to behold, a perfectly sculpted specimen of musculature; truly someone had to have painted a picture or carved a statue of him to commemorate his beauty at some point in history.

“Is the temperature of the water pleasing to you?” He brings you back to the moment and starts walking toward you, his footsteps barely audible as the moisture from the bath coats the brick floor in a clear mist. “I always like it a little hotter than most.”

You try not to stare at his dick as it bounces between his legs with each step he takes down into the bath with you, but the Roman gods had truly blessed this man. Your breath halts as your mind jumps ahead to what it would feel like to have him inside of you, to find out if men from hundreds of years ago were any better at pleasing you than those from your own time period. No, you shouldn’t be thinking about that, about him or your own physical pleasure right now. You should be thinking about how to find Jack and come up with a way to get back home.

“It’s good, it’s great, thank you,” you stutter, watching the water slowly envelop his hips and waist.

“Forgive my manners, you must think me rude.” He points to his chest as he takes his last step into the water, barely covering his nipples as he approaches you. “I’m Orestes, and you are?”

“Maria,” you lie, hoping the name is as ancient and international as you think it is.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He smiles and wades through the water to get closer to you, the ripples from his movements ebbing and flowing against your skin as the heat from his body begins to permeate through it. “Those markings on your body,” he notes the tattoos on your shoulders and chest, tracing the design on your upper arm with his fingertips, “I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

Your body tenses as he follows the black outline of the flower up your arm, sending a tingling sensation into your spine as he spreads the trail of moisture across your chest. He rests his hand on your shoulder where the ink meets your sternum before disappearing entirely. Something about him touching you like this makes you more acutely aware that this is actually happening, that he’s a real person just like you and not just some dream your subconscious whipped up after falling asleep watching reruns of HBO’s Rome.

“Where did you get them?” He asks, scanning the pattern of your artwork.

Your mind starts racing through all the nearby countries that would have been actual places during this era, somewhere he’d actually believe you could be from before opening your mouth.

“Sevilla,” you tell him as his fingers start to massage the taut muscles in the back of your neck. That's a place near here, right? Oh wow, he’s insanely good at that. Oh my God…

“Spain?” He raises an eyebrow as he continues to rub your neck, his full lips pouting into a playful smirk. “That’s a long way from here.”

“Yes, it is.” You keep your speech plain as he leans into you, smoothing his fingers up into your hairline as he reaches for something behind you, all but pulling you into his chest. The smell of red wine and sweat ignites your senses, his axilla nearly suffocating you before he lets go and pulls back with a sponge drenched in soap.

Right. You’re in a bath. Duh.

But wait a minute, wasn’t there a movie about this? The Butterfly Effect? If you keep going along with this, you might not be born or something even crazier could happen? Didn’t Jack warn you about this at one point, too?

“Will you help me wash?” His eyes darken in the amber light of the distant flames, olive cheeks flushing a hint of pink as he awaits your answer.

You point to yourself as if you don’t already know that you’re the only two people in this room. “Me?” You laugh nervously, “You want me to…?” You find it difficult to breathe all the sudden, your previous thoughts of him becoming that much more realistic with each passing second. “Yeah,” you nod, “I can do that.”

Eh, butterfly effect, schmutterfly effect.

You take the sponge from him, squeezing it gently as you press it into his skin. You take your time massaging your way up his forearm and bicep as you feel his opposite hand take your waist, forcing your lungs to inhale and your nipples to harden. You do your best to ignore how good his hand makes you feel, his thumb softly brushing against your belly as you rub deep circles into the muscles of his chest. You keep your eyes on the sponge, watching as the soap drips through your fingers and onto your wrist before splashing cloudy circles into the water below.

You stand on your tiptoes and reach up behind his shoulders to wash the skin beneath his curls, the soapy water cascading down his body and onto your breasts as you grab the sponge with your opposite hand. You pause as you feel his member begin to grow against your navel, his lashes feathering against your cheek as his nose needily nudges you to continue.

You nudge right back, turning your head to the side just enough to align your lips with his before he kisses you. Soft, tender lips press into yours as he glides his hand to the small of your back, forcing you to let go of the sponge as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He guides you to the edge of the bath, leisurely walking you backwards until your shoulder blades collide with the border as he parts your lips with his tongue. That scent of red wine is now a full bodied flavor as it excites your taste buds, notes of grapes and pomegranate nearly intoxicating you more than the small glass you drank before. He moans into you, consuming every inch of your mouth with unbridled ferocity as the flavor increases, cupping your face in his hand.

You comb your fingers through his hair in return, breathing into him as your chest rises and falls in time with his, hearts beating in the same rapid rhythm as you both tremble in delicious anticipation. You gasp as he forgoes the grip on your face to claim purchase on both of your thighs, the buoyancy of the bath aiding in lifting you up high enough to straddle his waist.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, hungrily taking your bottom lip between his teeth.

“You too,” you mutter, licking his mouth as he pulls your lip taut.

You kiss him again as he softens his bite, groaning as his dick throbs beneath your junction, teasing you to the brink of frustration. The warm water surrounding you conceals just how wet and ready you are for him to enter as you wrap your legs around his hips, crisscrossing them behind his ass. You feel him thrust gently between your folds as he continues to kiss you, palms squeezing your cheeks until he finally angles his hips just right.

A stifled gasp leaves your lips as he pushes inside you, forcing your head to fall back in ecstasy as he fills you up inch by ancient Roman inch. He pulls you into him, stretching you out with his impressive girth until he bottoms out, hips flush with the underside of your thighs. He pulls back and pushes in again, grinding into you as the water surrounding you splashes against the edge of the pool like the Mediterranean at high tide.

Cradling your head as he increases his pace, he shields you from the impact of his desire as he kisses down your neck and jawline. He hums into your skin, tasting every part of you that he possibly can as he slowly pulses wave after blissful wave into your core. He moves as if he’s known you your entire life, every delightful spot inside and out of you as he brings you close to the edge with utter delectation.

Your moans echo off the vast brick walls of the building, disappearing into the night sky through the absent roof of the room he continues to please you in. You tug on his curls as he brings you closer, your body keening into him as his pelvis pushes against your clit from an angle he’d never be able to hit on land. You close your eyes as the waves crash around you, the warmth of your pleasure erupting through your torso into your extremities in a series of shakes and spasms as you cry out one last time.

“Orestes!” His name is but a silent scream in your throat as your toes curl in sheer delight. Droplets of water splash onto your face as he finishes his exertion with a hushed moan, biting into your clavicle as he coats your inner walls with his timeless orgasm. He quivers just as erratically as you, letting you pull him in so close, the two of you merely merge into one being under the silent audience of stars.

He smooths your hair back away from your face as he remains inside you, kissing your cheeks and forehead with a smile as he catches his breath. “I bet you’re exhausted from your travels,” he croons, kissing your lips again.

“A little,” you admit, not wanting to leave this moment, despite having broken the space-time continuum.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

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

Tags: @johnny-simpfinger​ @letsby​ @stormkobra-5​ @cozykali​ @oscarseyebrow​

[userholland]

look at me | t.h.

kinktober prompt ⌁ mirror sex + masturbation (f)

pairing ⌁ college!boyfriend!tom x fem!reader

summary ⌁ trying to unwind after midterms, you tend to your needs when your roommate is gone, but your boyfriend comes by to congratulate you on a tough week. instead, he walks in on you eagerly getting rid of your stress－ in his own ways, he can help you with that.

warnings (?) ⌁ 18+ smut, minors dni!, tom being super cheeky, reader being super shy, teasing and lots of teasing, smut warnings below cut !

word count ⌁ 2k

a/n ⌁ not sure if this will keep up while i have school, but i hope to post as many prompts + tropes as i can! this is not a request series so please do not send any to my inbox. but, hope y'all enjoy and remember to love yourself <3 im turning my blog into more nsfw, i think i am comfortable with it, but im filtering out my nsfw content on @bitemetommy !

⌁ masterlist

smut warnings ⌁ sub!reader + dom!tom, not using protection, use of sex toy (vibrator), spanking, nipple play, fingering, being caught masturbating, begging/praise kink for one another, cream-pie, cum play

It was difficult to not close your legs, barely letting your knees touch then forcing yourself to spread them wide open once more. Breaths left your mouth, so heavy and whiney.

Begging, moaning, mumbling to yourself, "C'mon... I wanna cum so bad... Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Your baby-blue vibrator fit perfectly in your tight hole as your fingers from your opposite hand worked your swollen clit. Cum trailed down your pussy, lubricating your asshole that clenched as you inched closer to your orgasm.

Eyebrows pushing together, your mouth slowly gapping, legs shaking and sweat coating your chest and forehead-- you were ready to cum. So ready that you let out a small grunt, curling your toes as the coil in your stomach tightened.

"Ah, Ah! Yes, fucking cumming... I'm gonna cum!" You said under your breath, your fingers swirling against your clit as you pushed the vibrator in and out of your wet slit. It was the high you were searching for after this week, all you wanted was to let go and feel yourself release in just a few seconds.

So close. So fucking close.

But, just at the brink of your orgasm, there were two knocks at the door. Before you could gather yourself, waves of pleasure coursed throughout your body. Whiny while you pulled away the vibrator, you quickly pulled the blanket over your body half, as you were still clothed on your top half.

"Babe?"

You huffed, "Y-Yeah?" You grasped the blanket, the orgasm quickly fading.

Tom, your boyfriend of 2 years, walked in with a cheeky smile painted on his freckly face, "What was going on?" He asked, putting his backpack by the door.

There was a warmth in his brown eyes, the loose curls pushed back on the top of his head. That pearly white smile that could make any bad day a good one. Well, ironically in this situation, you wanted to mark this day as the worst moment in your life.

He knew what you were doing, but he wanted to watch you heat up when you were too shy to admit it with confidence. It was cute to him, how you would stumble over your words and get flustered. While it had been two years of dating, finding out each other's sweet spots and kinks, you still couldn't expose everything-- and he loved knowing there was more to you.

"N-Nothing, nothing." You cleared your throat, making sure your vibrator was hid under your blanket. The tingling between your thighs bothered you, barely able to sit still from how the orgasm still stuck with you.

He smirked, "Really?"

Fuck.

Your heart raced, feeling the side of the bed sink as he sat on it, and just as the blood came back to your head-- the vibrator slipped off the bed and fell into the carpeting on the floor.

Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you kept in any excuse you could think of as he reached down to grab it.

Tom chuckled, amused at the fresh cum on your toy.

"Did you get to finish, babe?" His voice getting lower.

You shyly nodded, too embarrassed to get out a verbal response.

"Do you want me to help you cum?"

A few seconds of silence, but you nodded again.

You gulped, "Yes... yes."

He didn't think anything else than to make you cum. However way and any amount of times until you were satisfied. You liked when he pushed your limits, testing your stamina when he got rough and the overstimulation took over your body like you were a puppet and he controlled the strings.

As Tom moved up on the bed, he put the vibrator on your side table before taking his fingers to move your hair out of your face. Sweat still covered your forehead, but he knew you were just working yourself hard.

His lips tasted sweet, always soft.

Gently laying you back down, you ran your fingers through his curls, but you gapped your mouth when you felt his free hand move the blanket from your legs and the cold air in the room hit your skin.

You closed your lips on his finally, kissing him again and concentrating on his tongue trying to enter your mouth. Your nose brushed against his, but you gasped once more when you felt his two, thick fingers enter your pussy.

"Still fucking wet... fuck me." He groaned.

Whimpering, you nodded, hungry to meet his kiss again, "I love your fingers, baby... I love when your fingers fuck me so good." You whined.

Tom smirked on your lips, giving a playful bite to your bottom lip then slipping his tongue back to press on yours. While his kiss was slow, his fingers thrusted in and out at a faster pace. He took them out to rub your clit, aching to be touched.

"You like when I rub your clit, baby?"

You struggled to response, "Y-yes. Yes, rub my clit... just like that."

"Better than doing it yourself, huh? You get to sit back and I get to watch you cum on my fingers..." He said, sliding his two fingers back in. You held back your gasp, but your eyes were screwed tight before opening wide. He lowly chuckled, the speed of his fingers moving faster and the spongey texture rubbing on the tips of them.

"Ah, I'm gonna cum, please let me cum!" You whimpered between your teeth, so eager and naive that he'd let you give in right now.

"Not yet, baby... just hold it." He groaned, the wet sounds from your pussy making him harder, "But, I bet you'd rather cum on my cock, right?" He trailed－ still fucking your pussy with his fingers... just his fingers.

"Y-yes. Yes, please!" You yelped.

Tom stopped, "What do you want? Tell me, baby."

"I-I wanna cum on your big cock. Please... make me cum." You whimpered, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he stilled them once more.

He was satisfied, helping you up on your feet and you glanced down seeing his hard push against his grey sweatpants. You stood, your knees like jelly, and watched him suck your cum off those same fingers.

"Turn around, babe." He asked nicely, as nice as he could get right now.

You smiled, doing as he said, then noticing you were faced toward your body mirror by your closet door. You watched Tom, shifting behind you and he leaned against the bed so just his butt was against the mattress.

In the reflection, his hands trailed up your body as you felt his kisses on your shoulder blade. He carefully peels your t-shirt off, your nipples already hard and goosebumps raising on your skin. Then, he leads his hands down your hips, hooking his fingers around sides of your panties.

Suddenly, you were completely naked-- seeing your body in the reflection with Tom's hands roaming from behind it. You turned around to him, pushing against him to meet him for a heated kiss.

Just like he did to you, you pulled off his shirt from the bottom trim, exposing the hickies you left from the previous week. Your fingers traced over them, the love bruises, then your hand slid into his sweats.

No boxers.

You giggled, his hardening cock was warm, but you could barely make your fingers meet around his base. When he was hard-- God, you wanted him in your mouth.

Sharing another slow kiss, Tom accidentally let a low groan slip into your mouth when you moved your thumb over his red tip, pre-cum dripping down his cock. He quickly slapped your ass, echoing the small room, and you bit his lip from the harsh hit on your sensitive skin.

"You wanna watch me fuck you, baby? Huh? So, we can both... watch you cum?" He whispered, kissing you in-between his dirty talk.

You nodded, your noses brushing once more, "Yeah, baby... Yes."

He slapped your ass again, but it made you giggle this time.

You turn around, facing yourself again in the full mirror. You tilted your head at your bodies pressed together, the clothes scattered on the floor as well. Tom sat back on the end of your bed, pumping his cock in his hand and melting at the sight of cum trailing down your slit.

"So fucking needy for me..." He said, another slap.

You ran your hands over your breasts, groping them-- squeezing then pulling on your nipples. Tom positioned your hips perfectly above him before sinking you onto his cock, very slowly, but bottoming out.

Your nails grazed his legs, spreading more as he lifted you enough to see the full base of his hard then pushing you back down.

"Fucking feel amazing... Fuck－" Tom hissed, "Want my cock, baby?"

Another thrust.

"Keep fucking me, baby. Your big cock fucking me... I want you." You slowly trailed, whimpers in-between and moans following.

Tom ran his hands up your body, straightening your back and replaced your hands on your breasts with his. He lightly grazed his thumbs against your nipples, keeping them hard and stimulating you even more as he kept pushing you down on his cock at a pace.

Your eyes fluttered, already edging yourself, but holding back by clenching around his cock. Nothing left your mouth-- that's how amazing he left, the slapping of your skin pushing you further.

"Look at me fucking the hell out of you, babe. Fucking beautiful." He groaned against your ear.

Rolling your eyes back, you struggled to focus back on the image of the two of you having sex right in front of you. It got you off even more, seeing his head buried in your neck and his thumbs still working your nipples.

"Moan... fucking moan for me." Tom commanded, forcing another thrust deep.

It's as if you were free, yelps and high-pitched whimpers leaving your mouth one by one, all of it a mess and at once. Motivating Tom, he pushed and pulled on your hips harder, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

You couldn't catch your breath, your vision foggier and a coil wrapping in your lower stomach-- like a spring ready to pop out.

"Tommy, I-I wanna cum." You grit your teeth, "Let me cum for you-- Fuck! I'm gonna cum on your cock!" You huffed, leaning back even more. Just enough of an angle to feel his tip hit your g-spot.

He waited until the last second, pound after pound, just holding on until the pressure between you was too much.

"Cum inside me, baby. Please!" You practically cried out, enough for anyone passing in the hall to hear.

Hearing a simple yet whiney 'please' was enough to send Tom over the edge, stilling himself fully inside you as pumps of cum settled within your walls. Cum dripped down your thigh, on your tippy toes while Tom held your waist tight-- his fingers still pressed into your skin, losing his grip as the seconds went by.

Your body's were hot, sticking to each other from the sweat, but Tom sat back down for both of you two be able to relax. Huff after huff, with his head leaning on your shoulder, the two of you caught your breathes, his cock warm from remaining inside your cunt from standing still.

While everything was still cloudy to you, Tom's kisses trailed up your neck and you found your hand at the nape of his neck to lightly pull at his soft curls. Just in this moment, everything became ethereal and you found a strong sense of comfort as Tom wrapped his arms around your body like velcro to felt.

You nuzzled your nose against his, taking a few moments of silence and the blissful feeling settling in like a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest. Giggling and your legs still on fire; tracing around the light freckles across his chest.

This is all you could ask for, held perfectly tight by your boyfriend and all your stress that once filled throughout your body out of your mind.

[yuichi-ro]

3:15 𝘗𝘔 - 𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘺𝘶𝘶𝘨𝘶𝘫𝘪  

cw: fem!Reader, roommate!Draken, sfw, comfort/mutual pining, unedited wc: 2k blank/ageless/minors DNI   ࿐ ◕ᴗ◕✿  ─𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨

Pinching the bridge of his nose to what had cascaded into an otherwise asinine request as far as he was concerned. Didn’t stop the man from swiveling around on the closed toilet seat to face the icky colored paint of the bathroom wall. Arms crossed over his house coat but not a muscle budged on him as he remained fixated appropriately on the wall.

“You’re not looking right?” Water still drowning out part of your voice from the shower curtain closed even though you had finished up a while ago in there.

“No.” Draken sighed with an eyeroll you couldn’t see but that morphed into him just closing his eyes, “They’re even shut. Your fine.”

Rushing water ceased. A creak of the old faucet followed by the shuffling of the plastic curtain and the cheap thin one you hung up as ‘décor’ in the crappy bathroom of your shared apartment. Draken remained turned around like he’d promised on the toilet seat. And still in the bathroom after you’d asked him to sit with you after you admitted to being a little uneasy from the movie night.

Tucking the towel around your chest and pressing it to your body for maximum coverage and absorbency, only then did you stand up straight and clear your throat, “Alright. Alls good.”

Unamused Draken lulled his head to the side as he turned back around to sit more comfortably on the already uncomfortable toilet lid, “You know, I grew up in a brothel right?”

An aghast look crossed your face, “Are you calling me a loose woman?!”

“What?!” Draken’s brows furrowed but the dusting of pink to his ears told a different story, “You dumbass that’s not what I meant! I just mean- It’s not like it’s something I haven’t seen before jeez.”

Eyes narrowing on him you clutched the towel to your body more. Not really needing to be reminded that you were probably the hundredth winner in his pocket book to be seen in a risky situation. Still he was the only one you lived with. And it was his idea to watch a stupid scary movie in the first place. So auguring about your body image at the moment wasn’t really necessary. 

“Are you good?” Draken broke the silence with the question, “I still need to shower.”

“Oh.” You’d forgotten you both had classes tomorrow, “Uh yeah. I’ll just- I’ll head back to my room.” Gathering up your things and keeping the towel as tight around you as possible you stepped aside towards the door, “Thanks. I know you think it’s dumb, I just- I don’t like scary movies.”

“Then why’d you even watch it with me?” Draken shrugged off his house coat with the intention of giving it to you to hang up.

Taking the familiar piece of clothing from him you tucked it with the rest of your things and let your gaze drop as you slipped past him back towards your room, “I just....wanted to watch a movie with you is all.” You lifted your chin up and gestured with his coat, “I’ll go hang this up. Again- Thanks.”

“Yeah yeah.” He waved you off as he turned around to strip his own shirt off as you left, “Your welcome I guess.”

“Call if the drain starts talking to you.” You cracked a smile but didn’t stick around to hear him mumble about you.

Draken shook his head and closed the door behind him. It was just a dumb movie. He never got what freaked you out so bad about them.

Sure when Draken rung out his hair. Wiped down his face. And washed the last of the suds off his body. He admitted there might have been a few creepy parts. But nothing to be scared in your own home about. And for crying out loud who was going to do anything with a six two ex gang member as a housemate? If anything Draken reasoned you should feel the most safe when he was around. That was, as far as he was concerned of course.

Digging at his ear to get all the water out. And haphazardly handing his towel up on the shower. As the last one to shower could always claim the best place to dry their towel. Draken didn’t hear another peep out of you. Even as he dabbed at his hair leaving the bathroom. A glance towards your room and your light was still on. Not to different as it was still pretty early. He paid no heed and wandered back to his room. Keeping his door cracked open just enough that he could see the light pouring from your room. Telling himself if you needed to come in then well least the door was open to invite yourself in. 

Going over a few things for class tomorrow. Peeping some of the Harley magazine he picked up on the way back home today. And scrolling through the texts he exchanged with Mitsuya earler. Draken figured it was time for bed when he reached over to click off his lamp. Only checked in the direction of your room to assume you’d fallen asleep like normal. A surprise when the hallway was dark save for the little bit of light still coming from your room. Staying up late was never your deal. And as Draken laid their propped against the wall before checking his phone. To confirm how late it was. And that you never stayed up this late. He could only sigh. Kicking his blankets down and planting his feet squarely on the ground. It wasn’t really up for debate. He’d have to go see if you were going to be able to handle sleeping tonight after that hardly B rated movie.

“....hey,” A soft wrap of his knuckles on your door, “You ok?”

“Oh-” You seemed startled to see him in your door way, “Shit- I can turn off the light I’m sorry I just-”

“The movie?”

Of course you fell silent. Really the only answer he needed.

Stretching up to rub the back of his neck Draken looked back at his room. Covers rolled down and bike magazine bookmarked on his nightstand. Then to you sitting on top of yours entirely still not looking an ounce ready for bed, “If you want...I can come lay in here with you.”

“Oh no. I know you’re tired it’s fine.” You tried to reject his offer having seen his light on in his room, “Go, lay down and read-”

“Your lights on in here.” Draken pointed to your lamp, “I can just read in here dumbass.”

When you didn’t answer fast enough. Or at least Draken didn’t think you answered fast enough. His disappeared for only a second. To reappear with his mechanic magazine rolled up in his hand. And the light in his bedroom off.

Silently you scooted over in bed. Making a sliver of room for him. But Draken being Draken rolled down your covers complaining he wasn’t going to have cold feet since you insisted on sleeping with the window open. So evidentially it only made sense for you to get under the covers with him. The two of you separated by a thin line of bed inhabited by neither of your limbs. You took to laying on your side facing him. While Draken used your hoard of pillows to prop himself up for optimal reading.

“You read this before bed?” You questioned with a quick peer over at the dog eared page that looked like an engine and then five hundred clickbait-able advertisements.

Minor scowl on his face Draken looked over at you crammed next to him, “That guy who made that piss colored hair was no better. And you watch his videos all the time.”

“Fair enough.” You hinted at the first sign of a smile all evening. 

Seeing it crawl up on your face put Draken at ease. You could shit talk his motorcycle magazines all you wanted. As long as he could do the same about your hair videos and stir a smile from you. 

Hands tucked under your cheek. Draken flipping through pages slower than anyone you’d ever seen read a magazine. Questions got tossed out here and there. Slowing to a tired mumble here and there. At some point Draken had nodded off with the magazine still on his chest. Only to jolt awake when it was like his body finally registered he was sleeping. 

Groggy with the light snooze he’d accidentally taken. When his mind questioned what time it was there was no way of checking as he’d left his phone charging in his room. 

“....sorry-” Your murmur against his shoulder surprised him. Draken was able to blink a few times to see you crammed into his side having obviously fallen asleep to, “I dozed off...we can- I got the light it’s fine.”

Groggy as he had to be certainly. Draken didn’t beat you to it when you propped yourself up. Leaning over him in an unthinking moment to click off your salvaged cheap lamp. Two clicks and suddenly it was dark. Darker than either of you two anticipated.

“....Draken.” Your voice came from above him as he felt your palm pressing against his chest as it had when you leaned over to turn off the light. His eyes adjusted to see the faint outline of your face above his. Closer than either of you might have assumed.

“....y-yeah?” He managed with his heart wanting to suddenly burst threw his chest cavity. Embarrassed but certain you couldn’t feel the thud in his chest.

“....can you stay here....for tonight?” 

Your breath tickled his cheek. The part of his cheek so close to his lips it was almost agonizing. Draken tried but failed to see every exact detail of you above him. Cursing his eyes and yet thankful because that meant you probably couldn’t see him either. Every part of him frozen but vividly aware of where each part of your body met his under the covers. 

“....you’ll just wake me up in my room if I don’t.” Draken’s tone barely above a whisper.

You faint snicker. Then a shift above him. He felt your hand apply more pressure to his chest only to be fully caught off guard by the warm tacky feeling of your lips against his cheek. That same spot on his cheek that was so close to his lips that it made them tingle.

“I wouldn’t mean to wake you up,” You confessed just as your touch faded from his chest. Draken wanted to grab for it but felt too disoriented in the dark room. All but thankful when it was replaced with your arm being lazily draped over his chest and your entire body being nestled up against his.

He couldn’t stop himself from turning over. Turning over in the cramped little mattress you’d had forever. Just to be able to do the same to you without fear of you seeing his cheeks or the rest of his flushed expression. Draken boldly leaned into you to give you a matching kiss against your warm temple. Only to find you snuggling up into the crook of his neck with one big exhale of relief that let you go limp. He couldn’t think of anything else to do but pull you against his chest aware how easily sleep was threatening to take him away from this very moment. 

“Dumbass....I know you wouldn’t.” He mustered up a little more of a voice just as your limbs grew heavy and your breathing evened out. Draken could only make out the way your eyes were certainly closed and chances were you had fallen asleep already. With you tucked under his chin the savored the warmth of you tucked against his chest and willed himself to save this memory until he could make another one just like it. Already the idea of the next scary movie he could show you. Hoping you’d always want him for comfort.

[donutloverxo]

Princess

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs and welcome and much appreciated. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+. Please🙏🙏

Based on a request. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Summary - Your pussy is sore so Curtis uses your mouth.

Warnings - explicit sexual content (m/f) , age gap (reader is in her early twenties, Curtis is 34), innocent/naive reader, dub con, oral (m receiving), soft dark!Curtis, au, porn without plot.

Pairing - Curtis Everett x reader

Word count - 2k

You were jerked away when you heard the knob to your room on the snowpiercer rattling, and then being closed as his footsteps followed.

You didn't remember a lot before the train, you were just a kid when the old world came to an end. 

You saw glimpses of grass and sunlight in your dreams, you weren't sure if they were dreams or just fragments of your imagination. 

But even in your wildest dreams, you didn't imagine a bed this soft and a room this big. Big enough to fit the bed and two dressers and a large mirror. It was decadent and all you could wish for and more. 

So it should make you happy to be here. In a comfortable bed like a princess. Shouldn't it? 

It didn't. You wanted to enjoy this time while it lasted, but your gut told you that you were temporary. Just here to warm the leaders bed. 

"Curtis…" your face heating up as he studied you, his powder blue eyes twinkling in the dim light, getting rid of his coat and cap. Goosbumps erupted all over your body as you held your soft comforter upto your chest,to give you some sense of modesty and dignity even if Curtis had taken it all from you and made you a woman just weeks ago. 

You used fantasy to escape your grim reality quite often. It's easier to dream of a Prince Charming riding on a white horse to save you then to accept reality for what it is that you would've been stuck working in the greenhouse for the rest of your life… all alone. 

"How many times do I have to tell you?" he hissed, tearing the comforter away from you, holding onto your wrists to reveal your beautiful breasts to him. "You're mine now. You can't hide from me."

"I'm sorry…" you hung your head in shame, and so you wouldn't be caught peeking a glance at Curtis pulling his shirt over his head, followed by him unbuckling his belt. 

He was… beautiful. You never knew anyone could be so handsome. His shoulders wide, a light scattering of hair all over his torso, multiple scars on his body. But they only, strangely, made him more appealing to you. 

He climbed on top of the mattress, nudging your knees apart and situating himself between them. He growled as he looked at your bare sex, using two of his fingers to part your lips as you hissed in pain. 

"It's… I'm… sore," you explained when he looked up at you. 

He nodded back to you, pushing barely an inch of his forefinger inside you, he didn't want to hurt you. Your pussy was clearly swollen and overworked. If he gave into his urges he would be sure to cause you pain, and even worse, lose what little trust you have in him. 

He had suffered enough to last him seven lifetimes. He already knew he was going to hell for all that he had done. It wasn't like he could doom himself anymore by forcing you to be with him. And he deserved you. After all that he had gone through. You were his light at the end of one long and shitty tunnel. 

He pulled his hand away when he looked at your face, pinched in pain. Instead settling on fondling your breast as he thought about how to take care of his erection. 

He had taken your body four times the previous night, which was why you slept the day away. How he managed to go out and get stuff done, and be the leader was beyond you. 

"You like what you see, princess?" He taunted you when he caught you staring at his hard cock. 

The little pet name was initially what he used to mock you and how shy and delicate and innocent you were, but now he had come to cherish you. He wanted to protect you as if you were his sweet little scared princess and he was your brave knight. 

You immediately averted your eyes and started sputtering nonsense, your brain froze and you literally didn't know how to answer him. And Curtis had made it very clear that when he asked you a question you were to give him a proper, clear and honest answer. Or face grave consequences. 

"Um, yes?" Which was the truth. You had seen a few male genitals in your life, they were all… not very appealing. But it was different with Curtis. His was beautiful and intimidating at the same time. 

"Then how about," putting his leg over yours, he crawled to the top of the bed, kneeling before you with his hard, pulsating length was right in front of your face. "You make me happy."

"Oh…" you simply stared. Your friend had told you that you were 'one lucky bitch' to have a man like Curtis who spends hours pleasuring you with his mouth, his fingers, and his manhood, but never forced you to return the favor. You didn't even know how you would go about doing that. 

You had explored your own body before. Partly because of your curiosity and partly for some relief. But Curtis touched you in a way no one else could, he made you climax harder than you ever had before, you were pretty sure you passed out once from the sheer intensity of it. 

But… how does one go about doing the same with a man's special place? 

"Hm," you looked at his slit, it looked somewhat similar to your bud, you held onto his length, putting your thumb over his tip where the pearly liquid oozed out of--with which he often loved painting your whole body with, or pump you full of it and just watch it seep out of you. 

You realised how bold you were, that you should seek his permission before touching him there, you looked up to see him pleased with your actions so you decided to keep going.

You lightly pressed your thumb on his slit, making him hiss, you whipped your head up and pulled your hand away. 

"Sorry…" you sniffed, your vision becoming blurry as your eyes teared up, "I've never.. I don't know what to do. I'm sorry…" you sobbed. 

"Stop," he said softly, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

You really were such a scared little lamb. Years of pent up frustration, where he had to make do with just his hand, didn't help making you feel safe with him either. But what the hell was he supposed to do when he had such a beautiful woman next to him as he slept? 

"Just listen to me. Can you do that?" he asked, cupping your jaw as you meekly nodded. "Open your mouth as wide as you can," he told you, pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb. 

Oh. It made sense. He puts his mouth on you so you should be able to do so on him as well. You opened your mouth with an 'ah', panicking just a bit when he put his hand around your throat, but he hushed you and asked you to relax. Since your body, mind and soul really did belong to him now, you immediately calmed down, knowing that he won't hurt you. Not too much anyway. 

He pushed his length in your mouth. The taste wasn't at all what you expected. Not that you were sure what it would be like anyway. It tasted creamy and salty at the same time. You coughed and sputtered around him, your spit trailing down your chin. You thought that the mess would make him angry but then you recalled how much he enjoys the mess he makes of you. 

He stopped when he felt his tip hit the back of your throat on his palm, "Good girl," he cooed, stroking your need. "Look up here," he ordered as you looked at him through your big doe eyes, "Keep looking at me okay?"

You didn't know if you were expected to give a verbal answer, because you couldn't… Not with a mouthful of Curtis. So you nodded the best you could. 

"Hands on your thighs," he said as you put your hands on your bare thighs with the palms up. "Right now just sit there… just like that," he rasped as he pulled his hips back before bucking them forward, "And look pretty. Fuck… that mouth of yours… and it's all mine to do whatever I want with…"

He was making love to your mouth, just as he did between your legs. 

You did as you were told, sitting and taking his assault on your mouth and throat. His ejaculate, your tears and your saliva drooling all over your lap. He was making love to your mouth, just as he did between your legs. 

You could feel slick running down the side of your leg, not wanting to ruin the pristine white sheets and to create some much needed friction you closed your legs together. 

He stopped his hips, the tip of his cock still in your mouth as he saw you squirming. "Touch yourself." He said. 

Your eyes widened as you realised what he meant. You couldn't risk pulling him out of your mouth to protest. You were too embarrassed to do that in front of him as well. 

"That's an order," he growled as he fucked in to your warm mouth, making you choke around him, pushing him closer to his release. 

A shaky hand made its way to your core, past your pubic hair and between your thighs. You tried to emulate how Curtis touched you. 

First he touched your thighs and kissed them all over. Then your ass and then he'd tease around your lips, torturing you for what would feel like forever before touching you where you most needed him. 

You gathered your intimate juices, spreading them around your vulva before rolling your pearl between your fingers, moaning around his length. 

"That's it, princess… come on, come with me," he groaned, slowly fucking into your mouth, holding off his release so he could watch you fall apart as he came in your mouth, one hand tangled up in your hair and another pinching and twisting your nipples. 

Soon you were whimpering, you tried to tell him that you were close. Thankfully he seemed to understand as he picked up the pace. Fucking into your mouth till you could feel streaks of his release on the back of your throat. 

You held onto his thigh so you could sit upright as your orgasm washed over you. Your nails digging into his skin as you screamed around his length. 

"Swallow it all," he commanded as you gulped down all that you could. 

You took in some much needed oxygen as he pulled his softening cock out of your mouth, your chest heaving as he laid down beside you and pulled you into his body.

He thought you'd want to sleep after. Since you were so swollen and tired. He'd have to take it easy on you from now on. Maybe use your mouth every now and then to give your pussy a rest. 

But then… 

Were you grinding against his cock? 

He propped your chin up so he could look at your face, the most innocent look on it. 

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Um… are you done?" you asked, tracing a scar on his chest. 

"You want something, princess?" he asked, pinching your buttock as you yelped. 

"I was thinking… we could make love? It doesn't feel right not to. You know?"

"Right, of course, princess. Since you asked so nicely." He smirked as he climbed on top of you. 

Taglist -

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[tommyspeakycap]

Painted Roses

jordan henderson x reader

word count - 2k I think

jordan takes you back to the place it all began as you expand your life together.

second part to Rose Garden

4 years to the date.

The country house with the long gravel road that lead up to the huge red brick cottage. The owner passed away over a year ago and their family, to Jordan’s utter shock, weren’t interested in maintaining the beautiful home as the wedding venue it had existed as in the past. The second he heard it was up for sale, he placed an offer and had the keys in the space of two weeks.

“Jordan where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He promises, giving your hand a gentle squeeze where it sat on top of your knee. The blindfold is making you sweat more than you already were. “I can’t see anything.” You note pointedly with a roll of your eyes behind the blindfold. Jordan chuckles heartily with what you can imagine in your mind is his signature smile, all white teeth and crinkled eyes. “You’ll love it,” he says through that smile, “I promise.” His hand pats your knee again as a silence falls between you.

Gravel crunches beneath the wheels of his fancy black Mercedes as the smell of cut grass and fresh flowers enters your nose and makes you grin subconsciously in a way you barely even notice. Jordan catches sight of that out the corner of his eye and his heart grows with joy in his chest. The slow, careful turn of his car, paired with the sound of his hands sliding along the leather of the wheel alert you to his parking. He does so with ease and you hear the keys jangling as he shuts off the engine.

“Wait here,” he instructs, climbing out his side with the door thrown shut behind him. He’s round at your side of the car before you have a chance to think up a cheeky retort. He’s gentle as he always is when he helps you out of the car carefully, wrapping one arm around your waist so you don’t fall. Admittedly, it doesn’t work very well because the ground beneath is so incredibly uneven, so when he gets to that first smooth grey cement step, he opts to simply scoop you up into his arms with ease.

“Okay,” he begins, placing you down as you feel the smooth material covering your eyes loosening and slipping from your face. His hands replace it for only a moment as he presses a kiss to the side of your head from behind you. “Open.”

You do as told and tears spring in place of his hands to blur your vision.

It’s beautiful.

It was that Victorian style country home that once acted as a wedding venue, redecorated to a minimum. “Wanted it to look nice for you, but so that you can give it your touch. You know better than me.” He admits sheepishly with a pink tint to his cheeks. You beam at him tearily, hands clasped together in sheer joy. “God Jordan, you shouldn’t have!” You exclaim, tears bleeding over your lash line. You knew how expensive these types of homes were, never mind ones so big with such history to them. It hadn’t even made much of a dent for Jordan really. He had more money than either of you could ever have spent and he likes to remind you of that to ensure you know full and well his gentle spoiling of you is not a hardship for him. He actively loves to do it.

“Take it as an anniversary present.” He shrugs, trying to fight at the smile that was tugging his lips. The warmth of your hug and the tears seeping through his white shirt was all a welcome to him no matter how hot it was outside. He could not wait to come home to this house, be welcomed home by you and hopefully some littler mixtures of you and him with your eyes and smile. “Makes my present look a little rubbish now,” you jest, making him chuckle heartily.

The house needed a fair bit of work. New flooring, new carpets, your furniture from home would do just fine but you reckon Jordan will be all for new stuff for a new home. A few new coats of paint and nice clear out, but all in it was still absolutely gorgeous.

“There is one room I really wanted to show you though, if that’s okay?” He asks, keeping his eyes trained down on the floor. You furrow your brows, but nod your head. “I gotta grab something from the car first though?” You hum, detangling your hand from his, “And pee.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy. “Again? You went right before we left?” He queries. You shrug your shoulders indifferently. “Since when do you question a woman’s toilet habits at that point in the month, Henderson?” You poke with a blush and a light giggle. He chuckles with you and holds up his hands in defeat, but the second your out of eye and earshot his shoulders fall and a sigh bursts out his lips. He wouldn’t let it show to you right now his disappointment. You hadn’t been trying long, but it was enough for him to be in the longing stage. Longing to see your swollen belly, longing to feel those tiny kicks against his hands and then hold his brand new baby for the first time, spend all those nights wide awake wishing for nothing but sleep while he cradled them through to the morning. You said it would happen when it happened, but it still ached with every negative test. Hearing you say you were on your period hurt a little more than he had anticipated, but he’s still heart set on showing what he had done with the short time he was able to keep this new home a secret.

You return with your handbag and take his hand. He is instinctive in those soft movements of his thumb over the back of your hand. It’s something he always does to sooth both you and him.

“So this is the master bedroom and I know it’s not quite good yet but I thought-“

“Jordan it’s beautiful,” you cut him off, your hand drifting out of his as you step in slowly. Being cautious of dust sheets and some tools, you walk into the massive room. You’d never been in a bedroom that big and it had blown you away. The huge bed, still with plastic attacked and tags on the mattress. The en-suite bathroom is marble worktops, one of those huge bathtubs and a walk in shower updated to a beautiful mixture of modernity and it’s antique homage. Tears are found again. The window gives a perfect view out the back of the house, rolling fields worth of garden space, loosely fenced in for acres into the distance. There’s a pond on the land a little to the left, not far at all that leads off towards the beginning of the hidden Rose Garden where you met Jordan 4 years ago today. All of that owned and shared by just you and the man you love. “Bloody hell, it’s so magnificent Jordan. I literally have no words.”

He beams shyly almost, “That’s how I feel about you.” He mumbles softly, almost too quiet for you to hear, like he didn’t want you to. “What’s through here?” You call behind you as he trails after you on anxious legs. You carry on through the very short pathway attached to the master bedroom that had some extra storage space. “Well uh..I haven’t finished that so maybe we should just an-“

“Oh my god.”

Jordan rubs nervously at the back of his throat as he enters into the connecting room behind you. His eyes take you in immediately, studying your features carefully. Your hands are clasped over your mouth with slow tears sliding down over your rosy cheeks. Your eyes are afire with love and happiness. “I know it’s weird but-“

“It’s perfect, Jordan.” You throw your arms around his neck, his arms finding you immediately as he buries his head into your shoulder.

It’s the only room with a new carpet yet. It’s soft beneath your shoes, a plush cream colour to match a white wall. The window on the back wall gives the same fantastic view you have in the master room. There’s a white crib pushed against the wall furthest from you with a mobile of twinkling toys dangling above and a baby changing table a little away from the top end of the crib stocked full of pampers and baby cream. In the right corner of the room just by the window is a white wooden rocking chair next to a little book shelf with baby books that had a couple plush teddies and a photo of you and Jordan 4 years ago sitting atop it. The other side corner is decked out with two beanbag seats, a soft baby mat and a bundle of all sorts of soft toys.

“Left that wall blank ‘cause I remember that day you told me you’d always wanted to paint it like the sky.” He recounts, pointing his finger at the wall that the crib was situated next to, making your head whip towards him. He had such a fantastic memory even for the little things you said, just like that. You barely even remember it, spoken under the stars as you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. It gives you no doubt about having kids with him, the thought of him remembering your babies favourite little treats or ineffective toddler secrets makes your heart soar with pride and joy. “Look closer at that.” He turns you round so your facing that wall again, the one with the little cosy corner.

Painted on the wall intricately above it is that rose arbor your stood underneath when he first laid his eyes on you. Where he first had that dance with you, where he told you he wanted to see you again. Where you snuck into when it was late, dark and only lit by those same fairly lights so he could tell you he loved you for the first time all those years ago. The roses are painted in perfect colour, careful and precise in the way they hung around you for that first ever dance you shared together. It’s so beautiful and so lifelike you that get lost in it, reliving the moment your world came together. Every time you sit there, it’ll be like sitting under real thing when you can’t take the baby out there.

“Well this makes my present a little more fitting, then.” You sniffle, letting Jordan swipe the tears gently off your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs in a slow, loving motion. “What do you mean?” He asks, “I told you not to get me anything.” He crossed his arms over his chest as you rifle through your bag. “Okay okay, here. Open this.”

You hand over a small gift bag, one stuffed with tissue paper he has to tear through as you sit your bag down and wait, watching him with wide and watery eyes. He pulls out first the tiny little wad of fabric and places the gift bag on top of the white wooden dresser, carefully unravelling the rolled up clothes. “That’s bloody adorable.” He breathes out, trying to keep the tears he has inside his eyes to no avail. You wrap your arm around his back, rubbing his tight shoulders softly. “Look at the back.” You encourage, his eyes meet yours then look back to the tiny clothes.

HENDERSON

8

With a little picture taped carefully to the bottom that he peels off with shaky, tentative fingers. “No way!” He booms, jumping back from you in shock. He looks down at the picture, up at you, back down at the picture, then up at you again with tears slipping over his cheeks. “But you said-“

“It was a surprise!” You squeal back as he swoops forward and scoops you into his arms, spinning you around in glee. “So no food poising? And no period?” He giggled out like a schoolgirl in shock. You shake your head. “Morning sickness and just a diversion. We’re having a baby!”

“We’re having a baby!” He repeats, louder. His words bounce of the walls that can barely contain the happiness inside of them. Threatening to burst at the seams as it fills beyond belief. This room, though incomplete, is perfect. Because you are in it together. Here, together in each other’s arms sharing in joy just like you’ve both shared in pain, hurt, love, happiness, nerves and everything else along the way. Head on, together.

“And this,” Jordan holds up the little football strip with his name printed across the back, his england appointed number proudly underneath, “This is perfect. You,” he pauses, leaning forward to capture your lips in his, “Are perfect.” His hands wander down to your stomach, placed gently over where his pea sized baby currently exists, growing and feeding on the love he intends to drown them in just like he does to you, “Both of you…perfect.”

It is perfect, really. Your love is. Even when it isn’t, it is. When he’s gone too long and you can’t see him because of a pandemic; the effort is made, emotions are shared. He tells you he misses you and his ego is never too big for its space in your relationship. When the world is against him or when fate turns against you both, it’s in each other’s arms that you find solace even if space is needed first. There’s an understanding of the love you have. It’s special. The kind that only a lucky few seem to find these days, a one people can look at and spot from a mile away. It’s beautiful, it’s own space taking entity that makes you both target to significant teasing from friends and family alike. It’s perfect.

Even when you fight over what blue is better to represent the sky just because your pregnant and too hormonal to admit he’d found the right colour before you did. Even when he coats you in paint that ends in an all out paint war, thankful you both removed all the furniture before painting. Even when you sob as your body changes, with pregnant emotions skewing your mind and making you question whether he’ll ever be attracted to you again, he’ll remind you that he’s never been more attracted to you than now. Housing his child, taking the aches, the pains and the changes like a true champ while he can do nothing but rub your feet and buy you ridiculous quantities of Solero ice creams. He’ll remind you in more ways that one just how perfect you are to him. Love by it’s very nature is as messy as that paint fight. It’s up and down and all over the place all the time. But the kind of love that you and Jordan have is a special that doesn’t waver, doesn’t dull or dim or change through time.

If anything, each day he loves you more. Even if he was convinced it wasn’t possible. But then it just was. Seeing you red in the face with sweat dripping over your forehead and tears leaking from your squeezed shut eyes as your screams echo through the room. All he could do was coax and coach, trying to tell you how proud of you he was. Even when you screamed that you despised him, he laughed and told you to squeeze his hand a little harder. It hurt, but that was nothing compared to the pain that you were enduring from multiple areas of your body as that baby ripped through you to make her grand entrance to the world, kicking and screaming just like the fighter her mother was. He thought his heart might burst with the amount of love he has, surely that’s as good as it gets?

No. No, it gets better still.

Everyday it’s better. Better when he gets to watch that woman that he loves so much sing to his tiny baby daughter, rocking in that chair under the painted rose arbor as she feeds from you. The most beautiful, natural thing in the world and he is enthralled by it. Watching you giggle at her she coos up at you. Placing her down in the crib beneath the gentle jingling of the cloud themed mobile next to the pale, sky blue coloured wall, blossoms falling, trickling down through clouds from a painted blossom tree on the wall and rose petals in variations of pink and red along the bottom of the crib. Roses and rose petals just like the ones that surrounded you on the day you danced with each other in under the trees of the garden that summer night. Roses like the ones you stood under to profess your love for one another. Roses, like the ones he took a knee beside, beneath and with one in his hand to give to you as he asked for your hand. Roses like you would stand beneath with one pinned to the breast of his suit to say the vows that would tie you in law to one another and to give you his name. Roses like the ones painted on the far wall, still fresh when you shared the news of that baby girl’s existence. Roses that were such an important symbol of the love you shared, pure and beautiful, sometimes painful but always worth the fight. Those roses painted on that crib with space for just one word carved into the wood.

Rose.

Your own beautiful little Rose.

[angelcoating]

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[the-slasher-files]

Affection

INCLUDES MICHAEL 

I have gotten a few different requests for a softer more affectionate side of Michael so I decided to put them together and create this, a longer (almost 2k words) descriptive drabble about showering with Michael. All this talk about getting Michael to shower and what his hygiene is like had me thinking lol... Now this is deeply inspired by @slasherholic and their writing style, of course I made it my own but it is defiantly a nod to them :) Thank you for your asks and requests!.. hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

There was a sting on your cool soft skin as you stepped into the blazing stream, raining down from the old head above. Through gritted teeth you bared your head back allowing the water to soak you, down your hair, trailing every muscle in your shoulders and back. Burning your flesh with a pleasent tingle from the contrast of temperatures as you had just been outside on a walk, the autumn wind was sharp kissing your face and seeping into your bones. Closing your eyes you calmed completely around the hot water, tension ebbed from your muscles and your jaw; it had been a long day, and you could not have needed this more. 

Steam flowed off your skin and out the top of the curtain like soft clouds, painting the mirror and sweating on the tiles, finally reaching the cracked door and seemingly disappearing into the night. Soft hands ran through your hair pushing away the water along the edges of your face, pooling beneath your feet and draining with quiet gurgles. 

The placid air had suddenly changed as you heard the shower curtain pull along the metal rod, screeching at the force; you did not open your eyes for you knew exactly who it was. The smell of iron, rich dirt and a firm musk coating the air, almost battling with the steam and the fresh smells of your body wash. The curtain superseded it’s own path with the same screech and crinkles, a large, mysterious presence appeared in front of you, out of the steam that seemed to billow around him. 

Opening your eyes you met his; one brown, dark and deep with a slight hint of yellow around the iris, outlined like black ink. The other scarred; a dull shade you could never decide if it was more blue or more grey, it reminded you of a thunderstorm approaching, devouring any bright sky and coating the blue in dark streaks and shadows, while his scar was in the shape of a catastrophic bolt of lighting, forking and brutally tearing through the iris; Much like the shape, a force of nature, leaving destruction in it’s wake.

Michael just watched you with a look you could never place, and sometimes you just didn’t want to know what that look meant, it was a mystery, like him; never solvable, never predictable, dangerous, and so beautiful in the hidden detail all at once. Loving this gaze was a curse and a privilege. You were one of the only people who ever got to meet these forceful eyes, see the detail in them and live. Perhaps that was his affection. 

He stood in front of you naked, watching the water run in a thousand streams down your features. Drippling down the ends of your hair into your rosy nipples, cascading down your stomach breaking into different paths; some glistening your sex while others flowed down your legs, meeting every tendon and mark your lover had made. Your eyes watched his as they surveyed the trails of wetness blanketing your smooth skin, it was like he was almost trying to remember where the water flowed and broke away, almost envious of the streams that got to touch you with such care and tenderness. Michael could never do the same. You both knew that, and you had accepted that long ago.

Towering above you he took an easy step forward, making you step back a little allowing him to have some heat from the water as well. Michael’s deep rich curls were now painted black, sticking to his forehead tracing the scars he wore, and now settling easy on his muscular neck. His eyes closed for a moment as you wondered if he had felt just the same soft pleasure of stepping into the torrid flow. The steam had started to make piece with the man and it swelled off his broad toned shoulders like a smoke stack into the cool air.

Michael's angular jaw eased and his shoulders fell ever so slightly; to the normal person they would never notice such subtleties, but you had become trained to watch for the smallest give aways in his body. It was the only indicators he would give you; dropped shoulder were relaxed and he was comfortable, hardened eyes and a slight twitch in his wrist meant nothing good, but over time you became aware. Sometimes too aware, but you had been molded to his liking. This is what he wanted, this was his artistry, a slight fear constantly in your heart right behind the muscle. This was loving Michael and you accepted it through and through.

The vail of his baroness and tension billowed away with the steam, he was at ease, and he allowed you to see this. Perhaps the shape genuinely trusted you, or maybe it was just him knowing you could never do serious damage to his imposing body. Michael was like a brick wall and no matter how many nights you wailed on him or tried to hurt him blood was never drawn, just your own.

Small hands slowly fell upon his shoulders, every movement he watched carefully, but there was not the usual harness to his stoney eyes. Creeping your fingers into his drenched locks, slow circles and light pressure along the top of his neck made him melt inside; and there it was, the trust, he had closed his eyes accepting the pleasure. Feeling the tough muscles under your fingers ease, you moved your hands along the tendons in his thick neck, watching the water flow along your hands and down into the slight dip of his collar bone, then continued to his broad expansive chest where you settled your hands among the pinkish raised scars from bullets and blades. They looked so small compared to him, lifting effortlessly as the muscles rose and fell with each soft breath. You couldn't help but find a trance in the way the water swept down him as well, each trail seemed more interesting than the last. Michael allowed you to look at his details and touch where you wanted, from his smooth chest to the dips in his abs, and the v in his obliques, washing the water with a slight hue of pink from his last kills. This was more than a privilege at this point, you took extreme pride in these extraordinarily rare moments he allowed. You were the only one who could ever touch the shape the way you did, the way he let you. This is how he made you feel good, this was his love.

Was this all a trick? A sick game he liked to play? Toying with you like a lion would before the kill?

Looking up at the towering figure locking eyes, his hands meticulously found home on your waist and slowly he leaned down, blocking the water from you and he met his lips with yours. Michael had kissed you, tenderly, softly. A foreign place he tried desperately to be comfortable in. You moved your lips cautiously with his, waiting for the large forceful hand to grab your neck, or to be pushed against the freezing tiles with blood running down your skull. Your eyes opened trying to see what he was planning but his eyes were closed, and his brow was furrowed seeking the love he knew he couldn't produce.

Blood ran cold in your veins as he pulled away, eyeing you up with a strange softness you never thought was possible. The kiss left you breathless, and your mouth was slightly agape as he took one of his large hands placing it under your jaw, cupping your chin and running a thick thumb along your sweet lips. Carefully you placed your shaky hands on either side of his sharp jaw, holding him as he let his head slack slightly and rest tenderly. It dawned on you that you were practically holding a predator in your hands, the claws were hidden but always still beneath the surface, your heart raced at the thought and you tried to slow your breath as much as you could, not wanting to start the predators chase. In this moment you saw a glint of what looked like pain in Michael’s eyes, if he was even capable of feeling such an emotion, he knew what you thought of him. Tonight all he wanted was to feel like a normal man, he wanted to give you his affection and nothing more, but the task was nearing impossible for him.

Michael started to run his massive hands around even inch of you, gingerly drawing shapes into and around your chest, rough fingers dipped between your breasts and following the water, luring him downward along your stomach, tracing every mark he made on you; from the bruises on your hips to the bites on your thighs, to the long jagged scar he had made on your stomach where his beloved blade sank a little too far into the skin. You were his and that much was clear. 

The shape allowed you to pull his face closer to yours as you placed another kiss to his chapped lips, taking it in more and trusting him with you enough to give into the rare pleasure of the gentleness. Your body so starved of it that when the opportunity presented itself you hesitated deeply. Michael had taught you that a person could be deprived of such needs for a long time and when he gave it to you, you put it in question.

Was it all you ever thought you needed? Was it just an illusion your head fueled? 

Stained crimson fingers that seemed to never be fully clean moved to the back of neck, fingers circling and moving slowly into your hair, Michael mirrored your movements that had put him at ease some minutes ago. His rosy lips left yours and trailed along your jaw, down your neck pausing to feel your pulse, and nipping at the tender flesh of your collar bone, pulling drawn out moans of pleasure you delicately webbed your fingers into his hair. Every touch, lick and nip put you into a blissful haze, forgetting where you were and blocking out the sound of the water spitting and gurgling, Michael was the only thing that mattered in this moment, and the world was lost. 

His wandering hands had now moved to your hips again, his lips were gone and Michael had you turn around, not to look at him any longer, just hot rhythmic breathing leaving your skin numb. Slowly his gentleness was failing him, urges and twisted thoughts were beginning to hound him like a pack of coyotes howling from the ridgeline hidden in the shadows. Your euphoria coating too thickly to see this, you just stood in the current, eyes closed and body relaxed, there were a few more strokes of your back muscles and stolen kisses to your neck before he was gone.  

Michael had left silently like the shape he was. Gone into the night that called him. Where he belonged. Free. A tortuous beauty that made you ache. The rare moment of affection was gone, burned away by the steam and lost hopes. Michael was just a force, a shadow that could and will never be tamed. Haunting people and leaving destruction behind. Just like his knife the pain you felt of his absence was sharp and cold amongst the scolding flow.

This was loving him. This was his affection.