#bathroom tiles manufacturer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arianastewart02 · 4 months

Text

Top Natural Stone Trends for 2024: Paving, Products, and More

Natural stone continues to be a beloved material in architecture and design, offering timeless beauty and durability. As we look ahead to 2024, several trends are emerging that highlight the versatility and aesthetic appeal of natural stone. Whether you're planning a new patio, updating your interiors, or enhancing your garden, these trends will help you make the most of this exquisite material. Let's explore the top natural stone trends for 2024.

1. Expanding Uses of Natural Stone Paving As we all know Natural stone paving remains a popular choice for outdoor spaces, but in 2024, we're seeing an expansion in its applications. Beyond traditional patios and walkways, natural stone is being used in more creative and functional ways: - Driveways: Durable and elegant, natural stone paving is increasingly being used for driveways. Materials like granite and limestone provide the necessary strength and longevity while adding curb appeal. - Outdoor Living Spaces: With the popularity of outdoor living spaces, natural stone paving is ideal for creating accurate, beautiful environments. Natural stone serves as a seamless and appealing base for everything from outdoor kitchens to fire pits.

- Public Spaces: Nowadays, natural stone paving is used not only in buildings and homes but also in urban landscapes and public parks to enhance their beauty. While its natural beauty increases public enjoyment, its durability and low-maintenance material make it perfect for high-traffic locations. 2. Innovative Natural Stone Products for Interiors Previously, people believed that stones were exclusively manufactured for exterior construction, but now that time has changed, the usage of Natural Stone Products in interior design continues to rise, with creative items boosting the way we utilize this material indoors: - Natural Stone Panels: These thin, lightweight panels are perfect for adding a touch of elegance to interior walls. They are easy to install and come in various textures and finishes, making them ideal for feature walls and accent pieces. - Natural Stone Wall Cladding: This trend sees natural stone used to clad entire walls, creating a dramatic and luxurious effect. It's perfect for living rooms, kitchens, and even bathrooms, adding a natural, textured feel to the space. -Natural Stone for Bathrooms: From vanity tops to shower walls, natural stone is becoming a popular choice for bathrooms. Its resistance to moisture and its unique, natural patterns make it both practical and aesthetically pleasing.

3. Outdoor Collection: Enhancing Gardens and Landscapes Natural stone remains a top choice for enhancing gardens and landscapes. In 2024, the focus is on creating harmonious outdoor spaces that blend functionality with beauty: - Natural Stone for Gardens: From stone planters to garden benches, natural stone adds a timeless elegance to any garden. It's durable and weathers beautifully, making it a practical choice for garden features. - Natural Stone Patio: A natural stone patio is the ultimate outdoor living area. Materials like slate, travertine, and sandstone offer various colors and textures, allowing homeowners to create unique, personalized spaces. - Stone Mouldings and Cornices: These decorative elements are being used more frequently in outdoor settings, adding a touch of sophistication to garden walls and outdoor structures.

4. Sustainable and Eco-Friendly Installations In 2024, sustainability will be a major factor, and natural stone fits in nicely with this trend. Being a natural substance, it has multiple benefits for the environment: - Longevity and Durability: Products made of natural stone are very strong and can last for ages or even decades. Because of its durability, there is less of an environmental impact from the need for regular replacements.

- Low Maintenance: Natural stone installation requires less maintenance than other materials like marble, wood, etc, thus only little chemicals and cleaning agents are required. As a result, the entire environmental footprint is reduced.

- Recyclability: Once the natural stone has served its purpose, you can recycle and reuse it by crushing and sorting it into different sizes for use in concrete, other materials, etc.

Conclusion The top natural stone trends for 2024 showcase the material's versatility and enduring appeal. From expanding uses in natural stone paving to innovative products for interiors and sustainable outdoor installations, natural stone continues to be a favored choice for enhancing both indoor and outdoor spaces. By staying ahead of these trends, you can ensure that your projects remain stylish, functional, and environmentally friendly. If you're also planning for a new installation or updating existing spaces, then World Of Stones offers the best natural stone and Ceramic & Porcelain Tiles with timeless elegance that will enhance any outdoor and indoor setting.

Using these trends in your projects can guarantee that they stay stylish and long-lasting while also keeping them up to date. When it comes to design projects, natural stone is still the material of choice for people who want to combine sustainability, beauty, and usefulness.

#kota stone #world of stones #natural stone panel #natural stone for garden #.natural stone wall cladding #natural stone patio #natural stone installation #Ceramic & Porcelain Tiles #natural stone #floor tiles #ceramic tiles #bathroom tiles #roof tiles #interior #home #architecture #manufacturer #supplier

1 note · View note

lorenzovitrified3 · 7 months

Text

A sleek, modern aesthetic or a timeless classic vibe

Our expertise as digital floor tiles manufacturers ensures that every tile is meticulously crafted to perfection. We offer you endless ways to customize our digital floor tiles. Our tiles with a durable construction and resistance to heavy wear including commercial and residential requirements, are made to stand the test of time and keep looking beautiful. We will be at your disposal with material selection tailoring to every taste and remote space purpose as accuracy and quality are the keypoints that we pay attention to. The processes in our factory are continuously being developed to create products that outmatch the general industry standards.

https://www.lorenzovitrified.com/

#digital floor tiles manufacturers #digital floor tiles #home decor #decor #home #bedroom #bathroom

0 notes

ahdeart · 1 year

Text

#tiles #tile types #tile prices #tile models #tile installation #tile cleaning #tile repair #tile decoration #tile sellers #tile manufacturers #kitchen tiles #bathroom tiles #exterior tiles #floor tiles #wall tiles #ceramic tiles #porc

0 notes

metrotiles01 · 1 year

Text

Find Quality Tiles from Trusted Dealers in Coimbatore. Wide Range of Designs and Materials. Enhance Your Space with Beautiful Tiles!

#floor tiles #tiles manufacturer #coimbatore #bathroom tiles

0 notes

sunhearrt · 2 years

Text

#ceramic marble tile manufacturer in india #marble design tile #bathroom ceramic tiles price #Kitchen tiles manufacturer #Kitchen wall tiles manufacturer

0 notes

blindmagdalena · 1 month

Text

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter three)

18+ 3.8k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, eventual smut. chapter 3/8. fic directory. AO3.

Now that he's got you all to himself, it's clear that Homelander has no intention of letting you go. For the sake of your own survival, you have no choice but to adopt his madness and play along with his domestic fantasy.

Homelander is insane.

You don’t know how to reconcile the hero of Vought’s marketing with this man, whose very presence unnerves you. There’s something uncanny about the way he moves, speaks, even the way he smiles at you. It all feels simultaneously practiced, and yet like he’s never actually spoken one on one to another human being.

The sentiment spins in your mind like a record, the melody scratchy and discordant. It’s as though you’ve fallen into some kind of bizzaro dimension where up is down, the sky is green, and Vought’s golden hero is a delusional kidnapping maniac who premeditated your abduction to the point of filling his home with a perfectly curated wardrobe for you. Even the products in the bathroom mirror your own.

You are home.

The conviction with which he said it gives you goosebumps. In the moment you’d been numb, trapped somewhere between reality and dream. That feeling–some mixture of shock and whatever he drugged you with–lingers with you even now, like you’ll wake up from this nightmarish fantasy at any moment.

You smooth your hands down your body, now clad in unfamiliar silk that feels cool and expensive against your skin. The sleep wear fits you like a glove. It’s your favorite color. It could have been pulled straight from your own closet if not for the lack of wear and the undoubtedly exorbitant price tag. All for wearing to bed.

Bed.

Nerves flutter in your gut like caged birds. You give yourself one last lingering look in the mirror. Washed and lotioned with the menagerie of products left for you, you’re unable to stall in the bathroom any longer. You’re as “comfortable” as you’re going to get, and Homelander’s waiting for you.

The thought makes you shiver. You can still feel his hands on your wrists like phantom shackles. From the moment he snapped and grabbed you, shocking you with immeasurable inhuman strength, you knew you were going to have to proceed with extreme caution. There’s something deeply wrong with him, and you’re terrified of what else he’s capable of.

What if you’re not the first person he’s done this to?

Worse than that thought, what if you’re not the last?

It’s a short walk back to the bedroom, the way lit by the dim spotlights that hang over the portraits that litter the walls. There’s an eeriness to the penthouse that makes you feel as though you’re walking through an empty museum after hours. The glossy wood flooring is as cold as tile beneath your bare feet, every part of this place hard and manufactured. It feels more like an enclosure than a home.

Even more bizarre than the decor is the layout itself. You haven’t seen the whole place yet–he had insisted a tour was for daylight hours–but rounding the corner from the living room takes you to an open alcove that serves as his bedroom. You hesitate in the open hall, struck by the sight of yourself reflected a dozen times over in the mirrors that make up his bedroom walls and ceiling, and Homelander himself already tucked into bed, his torso bare.

Your stomach flips. He smiles at you, beckoning you with a nod towards the empty side of the bed. Anxiety crawls up your spine like an insect with every step you take towards the bed, worsened by the open anticipation he watches you with. It goes against your every instinct to move closer to him.

Just as you reach the bed, he flips the blanket down for you. You tense, gaze dipping, but you’re relieved to find that he is not entirely nude. He’s wearing sleep pants with a thin band that nicely hugs the sharp jut of his hip, following the slight curve of his stomach. He’s leaner than the chiseled exaggeration of his suit implies, but his strength is no illusion. His hand felt like a steel vice around your wrist, his pull like being guided by a freight train.

Homelander clears his throat and your eyes snap back up to his. You realize all at once you’ve been standing there in silence staring for far too long at his half-exposed body. Embarrassment hits in a hot rush and you mumble some kind of half formed apology, busying yourself with slipping into the bed, lingering at the edge.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, watching you settle on your back and tug the blanket over yourself. “Like what you see?” he asks, smiling crookedly. Though he claims he has no intention of eating you, you wouldn’t know it by the look in his eyes. He has all the intensity of a bird of prey watching a rabbit skitter through an open field.

Not knowing how to respond, you stare wordlessly at him. You notice the asymmetry of his mouth for the first time, how it curves on one side. Christ, why can’t you stop staring at him like this? Every time you try to formulate a response–something, anything–the words get jumbled up in your throat, threatening to choke you. At a loss, you roll onto your side, putting your back to him and screwing your eyes shut. The bed dips suddenly and an arm slipping around your waist startles you into a jerk, your body going tense.

“Jeeze, so jumpy,” he laughs, breath hot on the nape of your neck. He pulls your body flush against his, your soft curves fitting seamlessly against his wrought iron edges. His strength is impossible to ignore, inhuman and titanous. You can feel it in every part of him, but nowhere more keenly than in the flex of his arm as it encircles you, pinning you against him.

He sighs into the crook of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve really been looking forward to this,” he murmurs, his words nearly beneath the thunderous racket of your own heart in your ears. Your body is awash in heat, and not just from the flush rolling through you. He’s as hot as a furnace at your back, as if his skin conducts heat just as well as the steel he feels made from.

If there was any doubt before that you had no choice but to yield to him, it’s evaporated now. He could crush you without so much as a second thought if he decides you don’t fit whatever elaborate fantasy he’s created in his mind. He could make you disappear.

“Hey,” he says softly, nudging the shell of your ear with his nose. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?”

The pressure of a sob swells up in your throat, the reality of your situation folding in on you with the weight of the world, but you choke it back. Hesitantly, you place your hand over his forearm and squeeze, hoping it will be enough of an answer to appease him.

You feel his smile in the way he caresses the sensitive flesh of your neck with his mouth. In turn, he squeezes you against his chest like a child would his new favorite toy, covetous and possessive. It makes you wonder what sort of boy he’d been: was he the sort to be precious with his toys, or was he the sort who wore them threadbare before looking for the next new and shiny thing?

“‘Atta girl.”

Although sleep doesn’t come easily, it does at least come eventually. The room is dark, but not pitch black, and the ambient sounds of high altitude winds spilling in from his open windows are surprisingly soothing, better than the scratchy ocean recordings you usually drift to.

The exhaustion you experience in the aftermath of your abduction overtakes you, pitching you into a deep slumber. You spend the night dreaming a tumultuous mix of reality and nightmare, some aspects exaggerated while others play out perfectly as they were. The truth of your situation is nightmarish enough without any theatrics from your imagination.

Waking up in Homelander’s bed for the second time is no less disorienting than it was the first time. Last night returns to you in bits and pieces, but nothing grounds you in reality as swiftly as the heavy arm looped around your waist, and the steady warm breaths wafting over the back of your neck, giving you goosebumps. His other arm is stretched out under your pillow, his hand resting palm up by the edge of it.

Is he asleep…?

“G’morning,” Homelander purrs, giving a firm squeeze around your middle. Not asleep, which leaves you wondering how long he’s been awake, assuming the man actually does sleep. There’s been no lack of speculation towards how human supes really are or aren’t, whether they need to eat or rest the way regular humans do. Especially those as powerful as Homelander.

The sleepy slur and fray of his voice gives you hope that he does, though. On top of everything else, it would be too unsettling a horror to learn that he doesn’t.

“Morning,” you give back after a beat, hating how meek your voice is. The tension in your body makes everything sound tight and forced. You see his fingers flex just before he curls his arm inward, hand clutching your shoulder to embrace you.

“I don’t know about you,” he says in your ear, lips brushing the shell of it as he speaks. “But that was the best damn night of sleep I’ve ever had.”

That solves that, you suppose.

The silence that follows makes you realize he was prompting you.

“Same.” The lie hitches in your throat like a hiccup.

Another pause, and then Homelander is shifting, uncoiling his arms from around you and lifting up on his side. With a hand on your shoulder he turns you on to your back, bringing you to face him. You meet his gaze, but something about the look in his eyes turns your gut cold. There’s no softness in the lines of his face, not even thinning tethers of patience. There’s simply… nothing.

“Don’t ever lie to me,” he says, his voice set low and strangely hollow. “You’re free to do whatever you want. Except for that. Understand?”

Your throat clicks on a dry swallow. The weight of his stare makes it hard to breathe. You nod.

“Tell me you understand,” he says slowly, each perfectly annunciated word dripping with malice. There’s no pleading in his voice the way there had been last night. He’s composed entirely of cold and hard lines that make you feel caged, the bars shrinking around you.

“I understand,” you choke out.

Just like that, the lines at the corners of his eyes soften, crinkling with his smile. He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. The abruptness of the shift is enough to give you whiplash, leaving you dazed. For just a moment, he was another person entirely.

“That’s my girl,” he says, seeming to savor every word on his tongue. Dumbstruck, you watch him climb out of bed, swinging his arms in a slow stretch.

“Uhm,” you start, clearing your voice of the faint tremor in it. “I should, uh… Call someone. Work. They’re going to be worried if–”

“Already taken care of,” he cuts in, lifting his suit from the suit rack next to the bed. Your eyes dart to the crumpled one he shed the night before, still in a pile. How many of those does he have? “Everyone you know is under the impression that you had a mild stress-induced nervous breakdown, and are currently on an impromptu vacation in Europe, totally off the grid,” he says with a smile, sliding his hand smoothly through the air.

You pale. Whenever work came to be too much, you’ve joked about disappearing like that, but would anyone actually believe you have? You suddenly regret the plethora of hyperbolic existential posts you’ve made.

“Oh,” is all you manage to say, feeling sick.

Homelander, on the other hand, looks as bright as the morning sun. “So! Who’s ready for breakfast?”

Regardless of whether or not cooking is enjoyable, it’s always a reliable routine. Breakfast perhaps most of all. Eggs, toast, bacon and whatever fruit is in season. You find all these things and more in dizzying variety and proportion in Homelander’s lavish kitchen.

The eggs are large and brown, the bacon wrapped in butcher's paper rather than plastic, and cut in thick strips. The artisanal loaf of bread has a perfectly crisp golden crust, soft on the inside as you slice it. It’s everything you know, but elevated.

The opulence feels weighted. It makes you wonder how you could ever be expected to pay for any of this. How you could be worth any of this. Every ounce of silky butter you swipe over the piece of artisan toast in your hand feels like another smattering of grave soil peppering you from above, burying you deeper than you already are.

You don’t owe him for any of this. You didn’t ask for it. Regardless, you lick an excess smear of jam from your thumb–the color of it as red and vibrant as fresh blood–and all at once you are Persephone taking the pomegranate seeds between her lips. There is a terrible feeling of complicitness in this, despite that you’re only trying to survive.

Homelander lurks behind you while you cook, observing from a slight distance with an idyllic smile, his hands clasped behind his back. While you’re still wearing your pajamas, he’s wearing his hero suit again, the bulk of it returning to him his larger than life silhouette.

The silence he observes you in is unnerving, making everything else too loud in comparison. It would be nice if he’d at least sit. Instead, you’re keenly aware of the oppressive weight of his expectant gaze the entire time you cook.

“Looks delicious,” he says, his voice suddenly so close that you startle, the butterknife slipping from your hand and clattering on the marble countertop. His gloved hands cup your elbows and squeeze, soothing and overly familiar. “Oops-a-daisy,” he laughs, as if you’re just clumsy. His hands stroke slowly up and down your arms.

You snatch the knife up from the countertop and dutifully wipe away the jam splatter with a dishtowel. “I hope you like it,” you say distractedly, heart racing.

“How could I not?” he asks in that same low, pleased tone. He gives your arms an excited little shimmy before releasing them, reaching around either side of you to grab each plate. You feel his chest against your back, where he lingers just a second too long. “You made it just for me, after all.”

He moves away from you, taking the plates with him to the small round table near the floor to ceiling windows. The view from his penthouse is stunning–overlooking the entire city, all the way out to the waterfront–but it’s also dizzying. It unsettles your stomach to sit so close to the window, the size of them making it feel as though there’s nothing between you and a hundred story fall.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?” He asks, settling down across from you.

You look from the window to him. He wastes no time splaying a cloth napkin in his lap and picking up his utensils, though he never takes his eyes off of you. You’re not sure he ever does. “Uh…Not particularly. I just don’t think I’ve ever been up so high,” you say, draping your own napkin similarly in your lap. Never has breakfast felt like such a formal affair.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says confidently, jabbing his knife into the yolk of his egg to spread over his buttered toast. “I’ll take you flying again. You’ll be conscious this time around,” he chuckles, flipping a piece of bacon on top as well.

Your gut tightens, toast paused halfway to your parted lips. You gawk at him. It’s difficult to comprehend how someone can be so beyond reproach, so intensely cavalier about something like drugging you into unconsciousness and kidnapping you.

I saved you. That his voice already lives in your mind–correcting you–is sickening in and of itself. Your already tenuous appetite vanishes, but you take a bite of the toast out of spite. The jam’s farm fresh sweetness is tart, though it’s offset perfectly by the savory sea salt richness of the butter.

It’s as exquisite as it is repulsive.

A crisp snap brings your attention abruptly back to Homelander, whose hand is still poised in the air, his thumb and middle finger pressed together. His hand falls away once he has your attention, his smile returning. “That good, huh? Looked like you went a million miles away.”

If only, you seethe, taking another bite of the toast. You use the moment to chew, swallowing the anger over being snapped at alongside your mouthful of food.

“It’s delicious,” you say, curating your words carefully. Don’t ever lie to me, his words echo again, helping you to shape a mental survival guide. Feeling his eyes on you, you meet them. His smile widens a touch, though you don’t think it quite reaches his eyes. He’s appraising you like one might an exhibit at a museum.

Glancing down at his plate, you notice he hasn’t really eaten his breakfast so much as he’s toyed with it. It’s all just cut apart, yellow egg yolk oozing slowly across the pristine white plate. “Is there something wrong with yours?” you ask with a lurch of anxiety. He’s drugged you once already.

“Not at all,” he beams with clean white teeth, hands resting in loose fists on either side of his plate. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

The strange earnestness of the compliment stuns you. “Thank you,” you say uneasily, still not convinced there wasn’t something in the jam, or maybe the butter.

His smile broadens and this time it reaches all the way up, crinkling his eyes at their outer corners. There’s a sort of pride in his expression that makes you feel like a dog that’s finally learned the trick he’s been trying to teach you.

“Whelp,” he sighs, clapping his hands together as he stands. “As much as I hate to go, duty calls,” he says, sliding his chair back beneath the table. Rounding it, he holds his hand out to you. “Walk me out?” he asks, his smile gleaming with predator charm. You only hesitate briefly before slipping your hand into his, reminding yourself to choose your battles wisely.

He lifts you to your feet with such ease it makes your stomach flip, breath hitching in your throat. He doesn’t let go of your hand, choosing to keep it snug within his grasp as he walks you through the decorated halls of his penthouse. There’s scarcely a space untouched by decor, making even these spacious corridors feel claustrophobic, dozens of carved and painted eyes leering at you as you pass.

The tour of the penthouse had been brief, awkward. He hadn’t especially known what to say about each room, giving you more facts about the artwork than anything. The lack of personal effects only make the place feel even more like a museum than it had before.

The only pictures of him were Vought promotional material. Not a single photo of him outside of his suit. No trace of family or childhood. Just The Homelander.

He holds your hand all the way up to a set of double doors made from dark wood, where he stops and turns to face you. “Thanks for breakfast,” he says with a picture perfect pearly white smile. Not a speck of food to be found. Uncomfortable with how fixated you’ve become on the condition of his teeth, you force your attention back on his eyes and nod.

“You’re welcome.”

He leans closer, and you have to fight the urge to lean back.

“Will you kiss me goodbye?”

You blink, the question striking you in the same way his compliment had, but for a different reason. In the wake of asking, his smile has lost that razor sharp edge it usually carries. Like his eyes, it’s softer now. More boyish. There’s a level of nervous apprehension in it that’s a stark contrast from his usual smugness. Yet again it hardly feels like you’re even looking at the same person.

Swallowing dryly, you bring your hand to the underside of his strong jaw. His skin is warm under your fingers, and he leans readily into your touch. You can feel the tension in the muscle beneath his cleanly shaven face as you turn it away, simultaneously moving in to press your lips to his cheek.

When you pull away, he’s staring sidelong at you, his face still turned away, his thin lips parted. For a beat, you think he’s going to be upset, but you realize quickly that the heat you see rushing to his cheeks isn’t anger. It’s a blush. Of all the ways you expected him to react, bashful was not among them.

“Okie-dokie,” he says, suddenly sheepish, and the tension in your shoulders drains as he relinquishes your other hand, busying himself with slipping off one of his gloves. “Should be home around 4:00, but I might be able to squeeze out closer to 3:00,” he says, tossing you a conspiratory little wink. As if you should be as excited as he is at the thought.

You watch him reach for a black plate next to the door handle, which he slides up to reveal a sleek number pad with a glowing blue circle, which he presses his thumb to. The circle turns green, and you hear a mechanism unlatch. Your stomach drops. All at once you understand why he brought you all the way to the door. He wanted you to see this.

“Pretty nifty, huh?” he asks, sliding his glove back on. “State of the art,” he says with a grin, pulling the door open. Over his shoulder, you see nothing but a long, long hall and a distant elevator at the end of it. You consider screaming down it to see if anyone might hear you, but the noise gets stuck in your throat. Even if they heard you, no one would reach you in time.

Homelander steps through the threshold, lingering in the doorway, leaning partially inside. “Don’t you worry,” he says, taking in the stricken expression you wear. He looks pleased with himself. “You’ll be perfectly safe. No way anyone’s getting in or out–aside from me, that is.”

He offers a few parting words, but they distort into unintelligible static. The door closes. That green circle turns blue, and the locking mechanism echoes in your ears like the slam of a prison gate. Turning around, you stare down the lengthy corridor you came from, your ears buzzing with the eerie quietness of the penthouse.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

#this chapter ran a bit long but yay! reader pov!#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #x reader #homelander #my writing #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere boyfriend

366 notes · View notes

fencer-x · 4 months

Text

My newest Drarry (and Severitus!) fic has been revealed! This was posted for the 2024 Severitus Big Bang, a fest celebrating the father-son relationship between Harry Potter and Severus Snape, in all forms (bio parent, father figure, mentor, etc.). I explored an alternate reality where Severus married Lily, not James, and the ways in which that might have led to Harry's life being drastically different from how it was shown in canon.

Title: The Fall of the Hosue of Evans Rating: Explicit Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy Word Count: 142,000 Summary: After spending fifteen years living in hiding in America following his mother’s murder and his own near-death experience, Harry Evans and his father Severus are obliged to return to England for a compulsory year of education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But never fear—everything’s gonna be just fine, he just has to get through nine months of maintaining a secret identity, putting up with a trio of really weird godfathers, feeding the fantastic magical noodle he found in a sewer, and dodging the wrath of the surliest, prickliest, finickiest roommate one could ask for. Associated Works: This gorgeous typeset from my partner on this project, kitsunerei88! Notes: Be sure to read the tags on AO3, and the lovely cover art was commissioned from @ muraeaka on twitter!

Read it on AO3

Teaser

“Quodpot,” Harry said, still marvelling at the slick subway tile lining the showers and gleaming fixtures. The ceiling overhead was already blanketed in a thick fog of steam, and the air was getting heavy with humidity. How was it the bathrooms here were nicer than his and his father’s entire apartment back home? “And I haven’t actually played.” He hadn’t even flown on a broom before, honestly, but confessing as such right now might send Malfoy into cardiac arrest. “Ugh, ghastly name,” Malfoy groaned, shucking his Quidditch jersey and pelting Harry in the face with it as he set to work on his bottoms next. Harry quickly turned his back, letting the jersey drop to the floor. He wasn’t Malfoy’s house-elf, even if Malfoy spoke to him like one. “Step lively,” Malfoy called out, voice fading with distance. “I haven’t the time to bring you up to speed so you don’t embarrass our House and then shower.” “Surely there’s a book or something I could read on the subject…” Harry groaned, carefully stepping backwards after Malfoy. If he slipped on a bar of soap and got an eyeful of Malfoy’s undercarriage, he was going to leave, just leave, Apparate right through whatever wards were blanketing the campus and damn the Trace and all threats concerning it. Blessedly, though, he bumped up against one of the long benches fronting the stalls and settled down, focusing on the far wall while Malfoy told him all about the evolution of the Snitch from bird to ball and then moved on to a lecture concerning the different broomstick manufacturers and their respective strengths and weaknesses. “And frankly, the Nimbus line hasn’t matched the quality of the Firebolt since—towel.” Malfoy snapped his fingers at him. “Towel, Potter.” “Summon it yourself.” “With what wand?” “The one you’ve got up your ass…” Harry grumbled beneath his breath.

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #severitus #fanfiction

64 notes · View notes

alphatilesuae · 8 months

Text

Explore the Latest Porcelain Bathroom Tiles

Give your bathroom an exquisite look with our latest bathroom tiles.

60X120cm GLOSSY PORCELAIN TILES AVAILABLE IN MANY COLORS SHOWROOM LOCATED IN RAS AL KHOR

Visit: https://www.alphatilesuae.com/bathroom-tiles/

#bathroom tiles in dubai #bathroom tiles manufacturer #bathroom floor tiles #bathroom wall tiles

0 notes

smurphyse · 2 years

Text

The Proposition | Dark!Bucky Barnes

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 2 of Lesser of Two Evils

Warnings: domestic violence, fear, hair pulling, forced showers, threat of rape, humiliation, graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Trapped with James Barnes, he takes you to his penthouse... and a shower with you

Note: This is a dubcon/noncon fic! Heavy violent content and smut will be prevalent. Read at your own risk and mind the warnings at the beginning of each chapter.

You were fucked. Completely and totally fucked.

How could you not think that Loki's enemies would find you? It was always a possibility but this quick? They must have been watching.

Your body could have vibrated you off the seat with how much you trembled next to James Barnes. His biceps alone were bigger than your head, coiled muscle strong enough to punch through concrete and your dumb skinny ass was sat beside him.

At least you're not with Loki, you told yourself feebly. Not yet anyways…

You pulled up to a badge access building in what you knew to be one of the richest areas of NYC. The Buchanan Inc. sign glowed in the darkness, ominous blue and red neon making your stomach turn. You were heading into the belly of the beast itself.

The car waited for a garage door to open before pulling inside, the sounds of the city muffled by the walls. The building was a city block wide, and the first floor garage was as well. Antique and luxury cars lined the walls, a few obvious pet projects here and there.

You gawked at them as you passed. Loki's interests lay in art or jewels, his favorite things to show off as if to prove his bank account size. While luxurious, this place was already more down to earth than Loki's garish green and white marble and gold accents.

The door popped open, and James held out his hand for you to take as he stepped out. You hesitated, biting your bottom lip as you watched him worriedly.

"Come on," he commanded with beckoning fingers, and on autopilot you slapped your palm into his and let him help you out.

Your legs were like jelly, and the moment you had both feet planted on the ground they collapsed. You clenched your eyes shut in preparation for your knees hitting the concrete, but two strong arms landed under your armpits and hoisted you back up.

When you peeked through them, James was watching you with an amused smile, "Tired from running?"

You nodded sheepishly, ashamed at how much muscle mass you'd lost because of Loki and his rules. "I don't get to run much anymore."

He made a grumbling noise and frowned, but before you could react James swept you up in his arms, ignoring your little yelp of shock. He took you to an elevator at the back of the garage, nuzzling you into his chest.

He smelled like sweat and leather, manly and strong. It was a welcome change from Loki's manufactured colognes and snakelike presence, fake and cold. James was hot to the touch, but in the blistering fall chill it was welcome despite your fear. Just the change was better even for a moment, even if you died tonight at least you weren't with Loki.

Your eyelids drooped as the elevator rose, your body going lax in his warm embrace. You were so tired…so weak and exhausted from almost an entire year of pain and misery. You just wanted to rest.

A hand slapping lightly at your cheek lurched you out of your doze, a sharp cry of shock bursting from your lips. You scrambled back until you hit something hard, struggling to keep your eyes open.

When you latched onto James's ice blues, you wrapped your arms around yourself in a pathetic effort of comfort. He was kneeling before you in a dark tiled bathroom, his hands heavy on your shoulders. His mouth was moving, but you frowned and cocked your head.

"W-what?"

"Can you stand long enough for a shower?" he asked, obviously irritated.

"Uhm, I think so," you muttered, trying and failing to get up. Your ass hit the floor as your trembling limbs refused to cooperate, and you burst into tears.

"Okay, okay, hey," James hushed harshly, cupping your face in his hands. "It's alright. I'll help you."

He got up and walked over enough to turn on the shower, waiting for it to warm up before coming back and reaching for you. The bathroom was huge, with a clawfoot tub in the middle big enough for a giant and the entire back wall as the glass doored shower. Everything was a dark tile with silver accents, black towels hanging from the racks.

"Is this your bathroom?" you asked stupidly as he picked you up. "I don't wanna get it dirty."

James shot you a queer look before chuckling to himself. He carried you with ease, set on his hip like a child. You weighed nothing to him, clinging to his shoulders as he set you down next to the shower.

"Hold on to me," he told you, and you did what you were told.

James got to his knees and slipped off your shoes, careful to go slowly as you clung to him with shaky arms. He set them aside and slid his large hands up your legs, settling them on your waistband. His warmth bled through your thin leggings as he palmed you for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh before he tugged them and your panties down in one go.

"Wait," you pleaded, but he ignored your naked body and lifted one foot to slide them off, then did the same with the other one.

As he stood back up, James tugged off his jacket and then your sweater, leaving you nude and exposed before him, hands and face covered in sweat and dirt, your skin patched red with anxiety. Your heart threatened to burst from your chest as you avoided his gaze, boring a hole through you as you trembled before him.

Holding onto your hip with a heavy hand, he gripped the back of his shirt with the other, revealing his hard muscled chest and prosthetic robotic arm. You gazed in wonder at the spot where it met his shoulder, your fingers moving toward it on autopilot as he tugged off his gloves.

James's hand gripped your wrist harshly before you could touch it, yanking your hair and arm back in one swift movement.

"S-sorry," you gasped as he angled your head up to watch you with those fierce eyes. "I'm sorry."

His firm grip eased, letting you go but keeping one hand on your hip as one of his went to his belt buckle, keeping eye contact with you. When you realized he was shedding more than just his shirt, your body threatened to go to your knees once more.

"Wait, wait," you begged, your eyes welling once more. Your chin wobbled as he ignored you and kicked off his boots. "Please, you don't have to do this."

James flashed you an annoyed look and sighed, "I ain't gonna hurt you, doll."

Pushing down his pants and setting them aside, James smirked at the terror on your face. When he straightened up your eyes landed on his half hard cock between his legs, and you burst into tears once more.

"Please don't do this," you sobbed, but he ignored you, lifting you and taking you into the shower. "I'll do anything, please please don't hurt me!"

He carried you under the warm steam, the water coasting over your sore and aching body. You couldn't help but relax under it and the way he held you to his chest, grateful for a soft touch when for so long the only thing you'd known was hard knuckles and sharp screams.

"I can't take any more," you whispered against him, and he stilled. "Please, I just… I just wanted to go somewhere safe."

James's hands cradled your back, his thumbs rubbing lightly as he held you under the water. He pressed his cheek against the top of your head and said simply, "Then you should have let me shoot you."

The breath caught in your chest, tears streaming silently down your cheeks with the water. After a while James set you down on the warm tile, making you face him and hold onto his shoulder as he lathered up a loofa. You kept your eyes on his damaged shoulder as he washed you, tracing every detail of the scars as your mind attempted to dissociate from what you knew was about to happen.

He dragged the loofa across your chest and arms, dropping to his knees as he moved on to your dirty hands. He slowed when he scrubbed the mud from your right wrist, eyeing the long scar on it that led up your forearm. He glared at it for a moment before moving on, cleaning your bruised legs and feet.

James turned you to face the wall and washed your back, scrubbing lightly as the dirt swirled down the drain. He even washed and detangled your hair, ignoring your quivering as he did so.

When he was done, his arms wrapped around you and pulled your back to his chest. You stared soullessly at the tile wall as his hands began to wander over the bruises littering your body, pressing his fingers lightly into each one and smirking when you hissed at the pain.

"You've been through a lot, doll," he whispered, his breath fanning across your ear and making you shiver. "How'd you get messed up with men like me?"

When you said nothing, his palms glided up your belly to cup your breasts, swirling your nipples under his thumbs. He groaned softly and pressed his now terrifyingly hard thick length into your backside, and your vision began to blur.

"Do you like the danger?" James asked, amused at your stiff shaking body. "Or are you just a stupid little girl who got in over her head?"

Your jaw clenched as you struggled to hold back your sobs, sniffling and committing each line of tile to memory. His cock was massive, thicker and longer than Loki's, who was already more than you could really take. If he did what you thought he was going to, this man was going to rip you in half.

He sighed and moved to the other ear to whisper, so you couldn't ignore him. James dragged his hands down your sides, steadying himself with one hand on your hip as the other slid between your legs to cup your pussy. His thick middle finger pressed against your seam, but he didn't press inside, just seemed to be waiting for you to react once more.

"I see why Loki wanted you for himself," he said softly, far too soft for the situation you were in. "Put some meat on these bones and wipe away the dirt… and you're a sweet little thing aren't you?"

Your brows furrowed, "Meat?"

James chuckled darkly, "You're all skin and bones, doll. There's nothing to hold onto like this. I'd snap you in half, but with the pants pinkie I'm sure Loki's toting around it worked for him."

You huffed a surprised laugh. You'd never heard anyone disrespect Loki, especially not in such an area that would make him see red.

"Oh, look at that," James marveled, and when you turned your head he pressed his nose to your cheek and kissed it softly. "Turns out you do have some useful information for me."

You shook your head the best you could like that, "I don't know anything about his work. He keeps me in the house and I'm not allowed to leave without him."

"But you know what's in his heart," James implored, and to your shock he kissed your cheek again.

"He doesn't have one."

James laughed and pulled his hand away, flicking your clit and making your hips jump as he did so. Without another word he flipped off the shower and guided you out of it. You stood patiently as he dried you off with one of the towels, then himself.

"Come with me," he said, beckoning you to follow him out of the bathroom.

You padded after him slowly, trying and failing to cover your body with just your busted hands. The room had one wall of windows lined with cushioned ledges of dark velvet. A massive four poster bed rested in the middle of the room, the covers so soft and plush looking you just wanted to sink into them forever.

James led you over to one wall, opening it to reveal a large closet. He tugged on a pair of black joggers and a tight gray shirt, then reached out a hand for you.

You took it cautiously, and he tugged you to his side and wrapped an arm over your shoulders. His skin was hot even beneath his clothes, holding you tightly as if you could run away if you dared try. James plucked a black shirt from a shelf and without a word unfurled it and shoved it over your head, ignoring your little grunt.

He helped you put your arms through the sleeves, tugging it down until it went halfway down your thighs. When he was satisfied, James led you over to the bed and sat on the edge, pulling you between his thighs and palming your waist.

"I have a proposition for you, doll," he said coyly, his bright eyes gleaming with a mischief you'd only seen from Loki.

You said nothing, just watched him as your jaw threatened to crumble from the weight of you clenching it. James pulled you closer until you were forced to straddle his lap. His cock strained underneath the expensive fabric of his pants, and he'd given you nothing to cover yourself with besides the t-shirt. All you could do was hold onto his shoulders and wait.

"It's clear to me that Loki didn't appreciate the little gem he had in his pocket," James began, rubbing his thumbs into your skin like a lover, but his eyes were too devious. "You don't want to go back there, do you?"

You shook your head slowly, and James smiled.

"Then stay here with me."

You frowned, your brows furrowing, "Why?"

James licked his bottom lip and sighed, "You need someone to keep you safe from Loki, and I'll do it in exchange for something. We'll make an agreement, just you and me."

The steady beat of anxiety now fluttered through your chest like a raging butterfly, wild and scared, "I don't know anything about Loki's job, I'm sorry. I don't have anything to give you."

James grinned, and his hands moved to cup your ass tightly, kneading it with his fingers. You closed your eyes and shuddered with fear, and he took advantage, leaning in and licking a hot stripe up your neck.

"You can give me your body," he murmured, and your eyes snapped open.

"If you're going to rape me just get it over with," you growled, tired of his games.

James's hand tangled into your damp hair in an instant, yanking your head back and making your back arch as you cried out in pain.

"Either you give me your body or I feed you to the wolves," he snarled, his breath hot against the exposed column of your throat. "It's your choice, doll."

"Why?" you squeaked, "You can have anyone you want."

Your scalp burned as he pulled you close, his hot breath staining your skin. James kissed the hollow of your throat and bucked up into you before whispering darkly, "Sweet little doll, I bet you're the perfect little toy. So soft and pliant…"

His free hand slipped under the hem of the shirt, smoothing up your belly and between your breasts until his fingers wrapped around your bruised throat. He throttled you a little, groaning as his dick pulsed beneath you. You let out a little choking gasp as he pulled you close.

James's eyes burned brightly as he forced you to look at him, "I'll keep you safe, okay? That's all you need to know. You wanted to go somewhere safe and you have, right here with me."

Your tears blurred your vision as you panted. You weren't sure what the hell to make of this, of what to do. Swallowing thickly, you asked in a small voice, "I won't have to go back there?"

James shook his head, "As long as you're with me, Loki won't ever touch you."

A life without Loki, but…would it be a life? If all James wanted was your body, would you get to be yourself outside of this room? It didn't matter. If this place turned out to be anything like Loki's… you'd kill yourself. You wouldn't risk this happening again. You would have to choose between them.

The lesser of two evils.

"Okay," you whispered shakily. "You can have my body."

James grinned like the devil, and just as quick you were twisted and pressed into the mattress, the leader of HYDRA holding you down like a predator victorious over his prey.

You shook with unrestrained fear as he fondled you, exploring every inch he could reach and ignoring your tears. Unlike Loki his hands were warm, scorching hot like the wrath that coiled beneath his skin.

James leaned in close and gripped your jaw in his large hand, sure to bruise and add to your growing collection. When he pressed his lips to yours, it was firm and strong, surprisingly soft for such a hard man.

You stared wide eyed at the ceiling until he pulled away, fully expecting him to take what he wanted and give you nothing in return. Instead, James pulled you up to the pillows and to his side, covering you up and kissing the top of your head.

"Get some sleep," he said softly.

He maneuvered you until your head rested on his shoulder, one hand on his chest. James wrapped his arms around you, rubbing soft lines up and down your back and lulling you into unwilling sleep. You tried to stay awake in this foreign place, but you'd been up all night waiting for Loki to fall asleep.

This mad dash to freedom started in one monster's bedroom, and it seemed to have ended in another.

What were you going to do?

Notes: 😱 What has our dear reader gotten herself into? How do you think her relationship with Bucky is going to go?

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Want to be on my Marvel taglist? Send me an ask and I'll add you to it!

Marvel tag: @cjand10 @kbakery @nomajdetective @goldensunflowe-r @asiludida164 @50shadesofuncomfortable

268 notes · View notes