#chemical resistant flooring

[koffclubindia]

What is acid-resistant flooring and how does it differ from chemical-resistant flooring?

Both flooring systems that are acid-resistant and chemical-resistant are made to tolerate contact with corrosive chemicals and other substances. Their unique skills and applications, however, vary.

A sort of flooring system called acid-resistant flooring is made expressly to endure exposure to acids, which are extremely corrosive and can harm a variety of flooring materials. Acid-resistant flooring is often constructed from substances like epoxy, vinyl ester, or other specialized coatings that are extremely resistant to acid penetration and can endure exposure to a variety of acids and acidic compounds.

Adhesive companies in India

On the other hand, chemical-resistant flooring is a more general term that refers to flooring systems that can withstand exposure to a wide range of chemicals, including acids, alkalis, solvents, and other corrosive substances. Chemical-resistant flooring may be made from a variety of materials, including epoxy, vinyl ester, polyurethane, and other specialized coatings, depending on the specific chemical resistance required.

In summary, while acid-resistant flooring is a type of chemical-resistant flooring, it is designed specifically to withstand exposure to acids, while chemical-resistant flooring is designed to withstand exposure to a wider range of chemicals. The choice of flooring system will depend on the specific application and the types of chemicals that the flooring will be exposed to.

Adhesive Company

[ressichem]

Enhance, Protect, and Impress: Epoxy Flooring for Every Space

Introduction:

Welcome to Ressichem, your trusted manufacturer of high-quality building and construction materials. Today, we delve into the world of epoxy flooring and its numerous benefits. Whether you're looking to enhance the aesthetics of your space, protect your floors, or make a lasting impression, epoxy flooring is the perfect solution. Join us as we explore the wonders of epoxy resin art and the transformative power it holds for every space.

Elevate Your Space with Epoxy Flooring:

When it comes to creating a visually stunning environment, epoxy flooring is a game-changer. Its glossy finish instantly adds a touch of elegance and sophistication to any space. Whether it's a residential living room, a commercial showroom, or an industrial facility, epoxy flooring offers a versatile and customizable solution to elevate your space to new heights.

Protect Your Floors with Long-lasting Durability:

One of the key advantages of epoxy flooring is its exceptional durability. With its strong resistance to stains, chemicals, and heavy foot traffic, epoxy flooring ensures that your floors remain intact for years to come. Ressichem's high-quality epoxy resins provide a protective barrier, preventing damage from spills, scratches, and wear and tear. Say goodbye to costly repairs and hello to long-lasting beauty and functionality.

Unleash Your Creativity with Epoxy Resin Art:

Epoxy resin art has gained immense popularity in recent years, and for good reason. This artistic technique involves pouring epoxy resin onto a surface, creating mesmerizing patterns, colors, and textures. The possibilities are endless, allowing you to express your creativity and transform any space into a work of art. Whether it's a residential kitchen countertop, a commercial bar top, or an art gallery floor, epoxy resin art adds a unique and captivating element that is sure to leave a lasting impression.

Customization for Every Space:

At Ressichem, we understand that every space is unique and deserves a flooring solution that complements its individuality. Epoxy flooring offers a wide range of customization options, allowing you to choose from an array of colors, finishes, and designs. From sleek monochromatic designs to vibrant patterns and 3D effects, epoxy flooring can be tailored to suit your personal style and the specific requirements of your space. Our team at Ressichem is here to guide you through the process, ensuring that your vision becomes a reality.

Conclusion:

Epoxy flooring is a versatile and transformative solution for enhancing beauty, protecting longevity, and leaving a lasting impression on any space. With Ressichem's high-quality epoxy resins and expertise in manufacturing building and construction materials, you can trust that your flooring needs will be met with excellence. From residential to commercial and industrial spaces, epoxy flooring offers endless possibilities to enhance, protect, and impress. Take the first step towards a stunning space by choosing Ressichem and embracing the wonders of epoxy flooring and epoxy resin art.

[epoxycom]

Epoxy.com Chip Flooring

Benefits of Epoxy.com Chip Flooring Systems Epoxy.com chip flooring systems, also known as epoxy flake or decorative flake flooring, are popular choices for industrial, commercial, and residential spaces seeking durable, aesthetically pleasing, and low-maintenance flooring solutions. This report aims to explore the key features, applications, benefits, and considerations of Epoxy.com chip…

[factoryfloorings]

Unveiling the Art and Science of Factory Flooring: A Comprehensive Guide

Are you standing on solid ground in your factory? No, I'm not talking about metaphorical stability. I'm referring to the often-overlooked foundation of industrial prowess – factory flooring. Imagine a symphony where each instrument plays a vital role. The factory floor is the stage upon which your machines, workers, and processes harmonize, creating a masterpiece of productivity. In this article, we'll dive deep into the intricate world of factory flooring, exploring its nuances, types, and the crucial role it plays in optimizing your manufacturing endeavors.

The Foundation: Understanding the Importance of Factory Flooring

You wouldn't build a mansion on shaky ground, would you? Similarly, a robust manufacturing operation requires a solid foundation – enter Anti-Slip Safety Flooring. This unsung hero bears the weight of heavy machinery, foot traffic, and the unpredictable dance of manufacturing processes. So, why does it matter?

Ensuring Stability and Safety

Think of factory flooring as the bedrock of your operation, providing stability in the face of constant movement and activity. A slip, trip, or fall can not only halt production but also lead to injuries. Investing in quality factory flooring ensures a safe environment for your workforce, minimizing accidents and maintaining operational continuity.

Enhancing Efficiency

Picture a well-designed chessboard where every square serves a purpose. Factory flooring, when strategically chosen, becomes your manufacturing chessboard. From smooth surfaces for seamless material flow to anti-fatigue mats for worker comfort, each element contributes to the efficiency of the production game.

Longevity and Cost Savings

An often underestimated aspect of factory flooring is its impact on equipment longevity. Just as the right shoes can extend a marathon runner's career, the right flooring can prolong the life of your machinery. It's a preventative measure that saves you from the hefty costs of frequent repairs and replacements.

Types of Factory Flooring: Unveiling the Options

Now that we've established the pivotal role of factory flooring, let's delve into the plethora of options available. Choosing the right flooring is akin to selecting the perfect paint for your masterpiece – it sets the tone for everything that follows.

Concrete Flooring: The Sturdy Canvas

Concrete flooring is the classic choice, akin to a reliable black dress in your wardrobe. Robust, durable, and able to withstand heavy loads, concrete flooring is the go-to option for many factories. Its blank canvas nature allows for customization, from polished finishes for a sleek look to textured surfaces for enhanced slip resistance.

Epoxy Coatings: Adding Flair to Functionality

Imagine concrete flooring donning an elegant coat. That's what epoxy coatings bring to the table. These coatings not only provide a glossy finish but also add a layer of protection against chemicals, stains, and abrasion. It's like giving your factory floor a suit of armor, ready to face the challenges of industrial warfare.

Rubber Flooring: The Comfortable Cushion

If concrete is the backbone, rubber flooring is the supportive cushion beneath. Particularly beneficial in areas where employees stand for extended periods, rubber flooring offers anti-fatigue properties. It's the ergonomic touch that shows you care about your workforce's well-being, akin to providing them with ergonomic office chairs.

Vinyl Flooring: The Versatile Virtuoso

Like a chameleon adapting to its surroundings, vinyl flooring is a versatile virtuoso. Resilient and easy to maintain, vinyl comes in various styles and colors, allowing you to customize your factory floor aesthetic. It's the pop of color in an otherwise industrial landscape, adding a touch of personality to the functionality.

Anti-Static Flooring: Guarding Against the Unseen Foe

Static electricity is the invisible nemesis of electronic components. Enter anti-static flooring, a superhero in the world of manufacturing. Just as a lightning rod redirects electrical energy, anti-static flooring safeguards sensitive equipment from damaging static discharge. It's the unsung hero preventing potential disasters in your electronic orchestra.

Navigating the Decision-Making Process: Key Considerations

Choosing the right factory flooring is no trivial task. It's a decision that echoes through the halls of productivity for years to come. So, how do you navigate this labyrinth of options and make an informed decision?

Assessing Operational Needs

Before diving into the sea of flooring options, take a moment to understand your operational needs. Is heavy machinery constantly on the move? Does your manufacturing process involve chemical exposure? Knowing your requirements is like having a map in an uncharted territory – it guides you to the right destination.

Considering Maintenance Requirements

Just as a sports car demands regular maintenance, different types of factory flooring have distinct care needs. Concrete floors might require periodic resealing, while rubber flooring might need special attention to retain its anti-fatigue properties. Factor in maintenance requirements to ensure a smooth ride on the manufacturing highway.

Budgeting Wisely

Ah, the ever-present elephant in the room – budget constraints. While it might be tempting to opt for the most cost-effective solution, consider the long-term implications. Investing a little more upfront in quality flooring can translate into significant savings in repairs and replacements down the road. It's the difference between a sprint and a marathon.

Industry-Specific Considerations: Tailoring Flooring to Your Niche

Not all factories are created equal, and neither should their flooring be. Each industry has its unique demands, and your choice of flooring should align with these specific requirements.

Food and Beverage Industry: A Dance of Hygiene and Durability

In the food and beverage industry, hygiene takes center stage. Epoxy coatings and tile flooring are stars in this production. They not only resist spills and stains but also provide a smooth, easy-to-clean surface. It's the choreography of durability and hygiene, ensuring a seamless dance of production.

Automotive Sector: Bearing the Weight of Giants

In the world of automotive manufacturing, heavy machinery reigns supreme. Concrete flooring emerges as the hero, standing resilient against the weight of colossal machines. Think of it as the unyielding foundation beneath the automotive giants, supporting them through every twist and turn of the production line.

Electronics Manufacturing: Guarding Against the Silent Foe

When dealing with delicate electronic components, anti-static flooring takes the spotlight. It's the guardian angel against the silent foe of static electricity, ensuring a harmonious symphony of electronic production. Imagine it as a force field protecting your electronic orchestra from potential disruptions.

Future-Proofing Your Factory Flooring: Adapting to Change

In the dynamic landscape of manufacturing, change is the only constant. Your factory flooring should be adaptable, ready to evolve with the ever-shifting demands of the industry.

Modularity for Flexibility

Just as a LEGO set allows you to build and rebuild, consider modular flooring options for adaptability. These systems can be easily reconfigured to accommodate changes in machinery layout or expansion. It's the flexibility that ensures your factory floor remains in tune with the evolving needs of your production.

Integrating Smart Technologies

Welcome to the era of smart manufacturing. Incorporate smart flooring technologies that provide real-time insights into floor conditions, maintenance needs, and even worker movements. It's like having a conductor's baton that orchestrates the symphony of your factory, ensuring every element plays in harmony.

The Final Note: Orchestrating Success on Your Factory Floor

In the grand orchestral performance of manufacturing, your factory floor is the conductor, guiding the various elements to produce a harmonious masterpiece. From the sturdy foundations of concrete to the versatile virtuosity of vinyl, each flooring choice contributes to the symphony of productivity.

So, the next time you step onto your factory floor, envision it as a stage where every step matters, and every material choice plays a crucial role in the overall performance. The art and science of factory flooring are about more than just aesthetics – it's about creating a resilient, efficient, and safe environment where your manufacturing endeavors can reach their crescendo. Now, go ahead, orchestrate success on your factory floor, and let the manufacturing symphony begin!

[pmindustries]

PM Industries is a family-owned business based in Perth, Western Australia. We have over 25 years in the industry specializing in concrete resurfacing and floor works across a range of residential, commercial and mining projects. Our services includes:

-Epoxy flooring -Polyurethane cement -Decorative Floor Coatings -Line markings -Commercial Floor Coatings -Safety flooring -Chemical resistant coatings

At PM Industries, our highly experienced team have all the skills needed to give you the right advice and use the latest technologies available to carry out all projects.

[refractoryinsulation]

Chemical Resistant Tile Lining | Acid Proof Tile Lining Services.

Our chemical-resistant tile lining is manufactured to provide lasting protection against a wide range of corrosive chemicals. These tiles ensure long-term protection for your surfaces and are most commonly used in chemical processing plants, industries, etc. They are very dense, durable, and abrasion resistant.

[jemkonflooring]

Jemkon’s epoxy coating with rapid curing technologies offers the best epoxy coating services for industrial space applications in India.

For epoxy flooring Service contact

Mob - +91 8956740753

Web - https://jemkon.com/

[chemicalsmaterialsnews]

Seamless Protection: Exploring the Polyurea Coatings Market

The size of the polyurea coatings market was USD 995.2 million in the recent past, and it will power at a rate of 11% and reach a value of USD 2,553.5 million by 2030, according to P&S Intelligence.

The automotive and transportation sector had the second-largest share, of about 26%. Polyurea coatings are used on the exteriors of vehicles, such as two-wheelers and trucks. They are usually seen on the chassis, driveshafts, gearboxes, and engines, as they provide good resistance to the exterior thermal and physical pressure.

To receive free sample pages of this report@ https://www.psmarketresearch.com/market-analysis/polyurea-coatings-market/report-sample

Consequently, polyurea coatings are becoming popular among automakers. China, Germany and Japan are the top three passenger vehicle producers. Consequently, polyurea coatings’ applications have advanced greatly in these countries. Volkswagen, Mercedes, Audi, Porsche, Opel, and BMW are all part of Germany's extremely competitive automobile industry. This industry generates about USD 468.5 billion, which accounts to about 20% of the total revenue of the German industry. Aromatic isocyanates are formulated with the use of benzene and toluene as raw materials. Methylenediphenyl disocyanate and Toulenedisocyanate are two of the most-common aromatic isocyanates used in the construction industry. The weather of Europe and North America is favorable for the use of aromatic polyurea coatings, which are less expensive than aliphatic substitutions. Aromatic isocyanates are used as a basecoat, meaning they are the first layer applied to any surface. Consequently, they are widely used in vehicles, that is the reason aromatic polyurea coatings market size will grow rapidly. The requirement for polyurea coating will surge in the APAC with a rate of 11.9% in the years to come. The high-pace monetary growth and substantial investment by private and government companies in numerous sectors, such as maritime, manufacturing, automotive, and construction, are driving the regional demand for industrial coatings. It is because of the increasing ecological concerns and requirement for sustainable expansion, polyurea coatings had a major place in the coatings sector, garnering high investment in R&D.

[innovative-polycoats015]

Chemical Resistant Floorings in pune, Nashik, Kolhapur, Aurangabad

Innovative Polycoats provide best Chemical Resistant Floorings in pune, Nashik, Kolhapur, Aurangabad. It is the best Chemical Resistant Floorings supplier, Manufacture Company in India.

[futureplayboibunnie]

Aphrodesiacs

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

yk that bit of spiderman lore between silk and peter where they were bitten by the same spider and can’t be near each other without feeling….

yeah this is that but with Miguel. SO NSFW. i love blue balling y’all. PART 2 IS UP NOW!

There were certain things that were absolutely not up for discussion when it came to Miguel: his leadership skills, his authority, his ability to lead this society, his daughter and…you.

There were too many issues to discuss about your strange…he didn’t even know what to call it at this point. See, you were both bitten by the same spider which everyone deemed highly impossible, but it happened. What came with being bit by the same spider were chemically and biologically bound side effects no one knew the first thing about. You and Miguel were more enhanced than the others, in many ways, many uncomfortable and impossibly distracting ways. You were physically drawn to each other, unable to physically feel anything but an intense primal, primitive and animalistic sexual attraction to one another. Neither of you could be in the same room without wanting to fuck like bunnies. The chemical compounds in your brains were the same, and it made you both become aphrodesiacs for each other. No one knew about it other than Lyla and Jess.

This was a problem, he was your boss and you couldn’t actually look at him without feeling hot and wet, you had fangs the same way he did but no one knew about it, Lyla made sure of it. Miguel on the other hand was a wreck because of it, his blood would burn at the mere thought of you. He worked his body out to the bone, he would work out and sweat the thoughts and desires away from him. It never worked. But he needed to pretend it did. Neither of you would anticipate how drastic it could be. You knew it was the genetics and the chemicals from the same spider that bit you which made you weary of ever getting close to one another but Lord, the desires were still there. It felt like you were muzzled and on a leash, hindered by moral righteousness. You both knew you couldn’t give in but that was rather difficult when you actually needed to see one another.

You ripped a hole in your suit, where your waist was and only Miguel seemed to have the supplies to fix it. A massive horizontal gash that exposed your skin. Your brain was dreading to see him, your heart said otherwise and your pussy throbbed at the mere idea. It was like you were magnets, constantly avoiding due to the the impossibility to be pulled apart. Taking a deep breath to keep a cool calm head seemed to work momentarily and then you walked into his lair.

Miguel could smell you from here. His skin tightened and his muscles tensed when he felt your scent wrap around him, like a warm golden glow. He would taint you in red. He would break you. He knew this. That’s why he could never….

“You know you can’t be here.” He sighed, ignoring your presence as he was staring blankly at his screens. “You know I can’t concentrate.” He added quietly.

You swallowed thickly and closed your eyes, wincing slightly. “I know we’re not- Look, I just need you to fix my suit and Lyla told me I had to fix it immediately or the wiring would go to shit. You know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need to.”

Miguel paused and blinked slightly at the last thing you said. You did need to see him. You did need to be here but neither of you wanted to talk about the true reason. He turned his head to face you. He wanted to groan at the sight of you.

Miguel had to force himself not to stare at your body and the way your suit clung to it, there was a massive gash in it that exposed the skin of your waist. Why did God always have to test his patience? Lord above give him strength. Even with his impeccable self control and strength, it took everything in his power to resist the urge to throw you against the floor and...Miguel groaned softly and rolled his eyes. “If that's what it takes...”

“I know you want to get rid of me quickly. I promise it won’t take long.” You say hurriedly as you hop onto his platform. You were really close to each other now, You swallowed and your breathing became slightly more shallow. Please let this be quick. Please. You begged silently. “I just need you too stitch my suit on my waist for me.” You say. “Quickly…” You added breathily. You had to get closer for him to actually help you and as he sat in his chair and pulled out his supplies, he raised an eyebrow to lure you closer. He felt his body tighten as you breathed so near him. The electricity was sizzling between you. Your heart beats synchronized and your minds only on one thing.

You got closer and you were practically standing inbetween his legs, you saw his breath hitch slightly but Miguel was a master at not letting his mask slip. He was good at pretending. His brow furrowed slightly, making a fruitless effort of avoiding that fucking look in your eyes. That face. Fuck.

This was bad, this was so dangerous. Being this close could end in a catastrophe for the both of you.

He paused before he put his fingers on your suit, a spark of electricity caused your body to still. He just closed his eyes and breahed out hurridly. He bit the bullet and grabbed your waist for you to stumble closer.

He needed to get this over and done with. No matter what it took, he needed to get you away from him. You gasped a little when he did that and he could feel that sound travel all the way to his dick. He tried to ignore it by getting to work and scanning your suit and then stitching up. His fingers worked at the speed of light. Your eyes just widened, continuing your mindless gawk as hazy thoughts of grabbing his hair and lowering his head further down between your thighs clouded your head. You tried to shake the sensation of his hands gripping your waist but it felt impossible, part of you genuinely wanted to grit your teeth until they shattered- the tension hurt.

Miguel always seemed to be perfectly fine on the outside, he had masked emotions other than anger or annoyance very well but this was causing that picture of himself to falter at the seams. Internally, he was breaking apart. Weakened by desperation. Lord, you were his weakness.

Images of you flashed through his head as he stitched, he wanted you tied up. Yes. With your own webs. Letting him have his way with you, pounding you until you cried and begged him to stop. He would fill you up, make you guzzle his cum as you pleaded for more. He let out a soft grunt at the sheer idea.

His fingers moved quickly as he sewed your torn suit together. “Why are you always getting hurt?” Miguel's voice was raspy, and he was unable to control his breathing. Miguel did his best to look away, but the smell of your exposed your skin was making it hard for him to think clearly. Your body was perfect. Jesus, it was like it was made for him.

You swallowed hard, your thoughts became hazy as he was this close. His hands were brushing on you and you tensed slightly at his fleeting barely there touchs. “Mm- I’m not always getting hurt.” You say softly, if you said it any louder you were sure you would moan.

“Right,” Miguel mumbled softly, his words catching in his throat. “I'm sure you were just passing by when you ran into trouble.” Miguel kept his eyes down to avoid meeting your gaze. All you could do was scowl at him. He finished his work and immediatly grabbed your waist and pushed you away as he got up from his chair to stare at his screens again as a means to avoid looking at you. “Don’t come back here.” He muttered at you seriously.

“I won’t.” You glowered at his broad and muscular back. You lied though, you were sure you’d be back. “But…I can’t keep going on like this.”

His ears pricked up at your admission and he felt the exact same way. Miguel's body was on fire. He wanted you. Right now. He didn't know what would happen if he gave into his urges. His body was shaking, and he had to make a conscious effort to keep his hands to himself. He was trying not to touch you, but every move you made, every tiny shift, only made your body more desirable. “Please, go.” Miguel choked, his voice harsh and strained.

You did as you were told and you hurriedly left. Praying that this would naturally wear off as long as you stayed away from him.

-

It had been a few days since your interaction and you had both successfully avoided each other since then but he could still feel your presence whenever you were at HQ. He could still feel the air in his office carrying your scent.

Now it was 2AM and he was still in his office. He was banging another hookup over his desk, she was bent over just so he couldn’t look at her. She was pretty but she wasn’t you. As his dick slid in and out, her moans fell flat to him, he only wanted to hear you. He was praying that this one would be the one that made him forget about you, that this one would tamper down his sexual anger and frustration but no. He got angrier. Animalistic. All he could think about was you. He was pretty sure he was hurting her when he was like this. His mood soured when he wondered what he would do to you if he finally gave in. Would he hurt you? God, what if he did….

He never wanted to hurt you.

He knew you would never be able to take it, to take all of it.

You on the other hand were in your apartment, also fucking a random hookup. You were hoping it would help your predicament but if anything it was making you more frustrated. He wasn’t fucking big enough. Yeah, his dick was better than average but it didn’t have the girth that Miguel would- You shook your head out of any thoughts of him and decided to be in the moment. You decided that it was a terrible moment. There were much more irritating things than faking an orgasm like your incessant need for Miguel.

Even though you were being fucked by another guy all you could thing about was: Miguel, Miguel, Miguel.

Nothing was working, for either of you.

-

Your mind wandered towards another way to fix this. Maybe there was a suppressant or an antidote to help keep down these primal urges and desires. These thoughts were keeping you from doing any sort of work, you couldn’t concentrate properly. Your mind was burned alive by constant thoughts of him in so many different situations. So you decided to talk to him about it. He’d probably end up killing you for even thinking about it but you were way passed that.

You sighed deeply before thrumming up the guts to see him again. Entering his lair was never a welcome idea to anyone but you and him were struggling and he was lying to himself. Miguel felt your presence again, your scent, your skin. He tampered down the jumping urge to drag you by your ankles and-

“I know you didn’t want me here again but we need to talk.” You crossed your arms but it further accentuated your chest, his stare lingered for a moment and he looked blank. Then he looked back down at a new suit he was fixing up and seemed unamused. That look just made you even more wet and desperate for his attention.

“No… we don’t.” He said thickly and your knees started buckling under the pressure. You swallowed.

“Uhm…there has to be an antidote for this or a suppressant for whatever…this is.” You said hurriedly. “Maybe I can manufacture one, I think I might be able to if I could genetically scan the spider and take it’s DNA and change its raw qualities…” Miguel watched you pace desperately as you rambled on, not even looking at him, you were pleading for a solution to this and he was getting more and more annoyed.

He stared at your lips as you spoke. Flashes of you on your knees, drooling and gagging on his cock pierced the forefront of his mind, causing his legs to feel nothing but limp. The things he wanted to do to you. He was an addict because of you.

“There is no cure for it!” He grunted loudly, cutting you off. “Hell, I’ve tried to make one since the first day I met you and all you’ve done is make me lose my fucking self control. You just standing there is enough to make me go crazy for you and I. Can’t. Help. It. I can smell you, I know you want me too but we have to fight it. We have to manage this because if you let me get close to you, I know I’ll hurt you and I won’t let that opportunity arise.” He admitted in a frenzy, his teeth almost shattering against each other, jaw clenching and unclenching. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair as his eyes bore a ruby hue and his breathing became uneven and heavy.

You bit your lip at his angry outburst, not being able to deny how turned on you were by his rage and lack of self control. Part of you thought your mind was playing tricks on your or that you were hullicinating all of this as you were dulled by a cloud of lust, but no. You were very aware now that it was real. You were both feral for each other. You just glowered him.

“I have denied every single impulse I have ever had for you.” You grit out. “Maybe I want you to make it hurt, because any other kind of hurt right now is better than the pure need for you to fuck me right here, right now. You are not the only one who is capable of making another person hurt. Maybe I blame you. Maybe I can’t get you out of my head. Maybe I need your cock in me. Whatever….I just need to do something about it or else I’ll go fucking insane.” Miguel watched your brows furrow and your lips loosen as you uttered those fated words. His eyes glazed over twice and widened, your words were sharp and unfeeling. He believed that if you weren’t this way you wouldn’t find a need to be cruel and direct, the way your eyes glimmered yet darkened with need and passion caused him to halt in his tracks, now you were inching closer to him and he didn’t know what to do.

“It's impossible to create an antidote,it genetically and chemically changed our code.” Miguel mumbled, his voice husky and strained. “We're stuck like this...” He sighed, trying to collect himself. “Look, we just have to learn how to handle this," Miguel muttered, trying to convince himself more than you. “We'll learn to control ourselves. This...this is manageable.”

He didn’t believe any of the lies he spewed. There’s no way this was managable.

“Why do I get the feeling that that is not true.” You say softly, biting your lip and blinking up at him. Neither of you knew how you got this close now, it was like you were drawn to each other.

“Stop giving me that look. I-I can’t-“ He breathed heavily, trying to rescue himself or beg for your mercy. He didn’t know which one. Miguel hung his head and quickly turned his head as to not face you. “I’ll hurt you.” He added stoically.

“I. Don’t. Care ”

[blogport]

EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+ (5)

When it comes to enhancing the aesthetic and functional qualities of your floors, solid color epoxy flooring stands out as a top choice. Renowned for its durability and ease of maintenance, this sleek flooring option offers a seamless look that transforms any space into a modern haven. Beyond the allure of solid colors, the world of epoxy flooring also features exciting variations like the vibrant epoxy flake floors. These innovative surfaces blend color flakes into a clear resin, providing a unique texture and visual appeal that can suit any design vision. 

Solid Color Epoxy Floor

When it comes to flooring solutions, the solid color epoxy floor stands out for its durability and aesthetic appeal. This type of flooring is created by mixing epoxy resin with hardeners, resulting in a seamless, impermeable surface that can withstand heavy foot traffic and harsh conditions.

One of the significant advantages of solid color epoxy floors is their versatility. These floors can be customized to fit various color schemes and designs, making them an excellent choice for both residential and commercial spaces. Whether you prefer a bold and vibrant tone or a more subtle hue, there's a solid epoxy color to meet your needs.

Additionally, the maintenance of a solid color epoxy floor is relatively simple. Regular cleaning with mild soap and water is often sufficient to keep the floor looking new. This low-maintenance feature, combined with its long-lasting nature, makes it a cost-effective flooring solution in the long run.

Epoxy Flake Floor

If you're looking for a versatile and aesthetically pleasing flooring option, epoxy flake floor is an excellent choice. This type of flooring combines the durability of epoxy with the decorative flair of colored flakes, creating a unique surface that's both functional and attractive.

One of the main benefits of epoxy flake floors is their resilience. They are resistant to stains, impacts, and chemicals, making them perfect for high-traffic areas such as garages, basements, or commercial spaces. Additionally, the textured surface of flake flooring provides excellent slip resistance, which enhances safety in both residential and industrial environments.

Beyond their practicality, epoxy flake floors offer endless design possibilities. You can choose from a variety of colors and sizes for the flakes, allowing you to customize your flooring to match your personal style or brand image. Whether you prefer a subtle blend or a bold statement, flake flooring can transform your space into a visually stunning area that stands out.

Flake Flooring

Flake flooring is an innovative and versatile flooring solution that combines aesthetics with durability. One of the defining features of flake flooring is its unique blend of colorful chips or flakes that are embedded into a clear epoxy base. This method not only enhances the visual appeal of the floor but also provides a strong, long-lasting surface that can withstand heavy foot traffic and wear.

Another significant advantage of flake flooring is its customizable nature. Homeowners and business owners can choose from an array of colors, shapes, and sizes of flakes, allowing them to create a floor that perfectly matches their style or corporate branding. This customization makes flake flooring an excellent choice for various applications, from residential garages to commercial spaces.

Moreover, flake flooring is easy to maintain. The smooth surface of the epoxy prevents dirt and grime from becoming lodged in the seams, making clean-up a breeze. With proper maintenance, flake flooring can maintain its vibrant appearance for years, making it a practical and stylish flooring choice.

[ressichem]

Elevate Your Space with Epoxy: The Future of Flooring

Introduction:

In the realm of building and construction materials, Ressichem has emerged as a leading manufacturer committed to innovation and quality. One of their standout offerings is epoxy flooring, a cutting-edge solution that has revolutionized the way we think about flooring. Combining durability, versatility, and aesthetic appeal, epoxy flooring has swiftly become the future of flooring solutions. In this guest post, we will explore the incredible benefits of epoxy flooring and its potential for creating stunning epoxy resin art.

Unleashing the Power of Epoxy Flooring:

Epoxy flooring has rapidly gained popularity in the construction industry due to its exceptional properties and versatile applications. Unlike traditional flooring options, epoxy flooring is created by combining epoxy resin with a hardening agent. The resulting chemical reaction forms a strong, durable, and seamless surface that can withstand heavy foot traffic, chemical spills, and mechanical stress.

Durability for Long-lasting Results:

Ressichem's epoxy flooring provides exceptional durability, making it an ideal choice for residential, commercial, and industrial settings. With its ability to withstand wear and tear, epoxy flooring guarantees longevity and reduces maintenance costs over time. Whether it's a high-traffic area, such as a warehouse or showroom, or a residential space that requires resistance to spills and stains, epoxy flooring delivers outstanding performance.

Versatility and Customization:

One of the most exciting aspects of epoxy flooring is its versatility. Ressichem offers a wide range of epoxy flooring options, including different colors, patterns, and finishes. This allows you to customize your flooring to match your space's aesthetic, creating a seamless integration with your overall design scheme. Whether you prefer a glossy, high-shine finish or a more muted, textured surface, epoxy flooring can be tailored to suit your specific preferences and needs.

Transforming Spaces with Epoxy Resin Art:

Beyond its utilitarian benefits, epoxy flooring offers a unique opportunity for artistic expression through epoxy resin art. Ressichem's epoxy resin art products allow you to unleash your creativity, transforming your floor into a stunning work of art. Whether you envision a mesmerizing abstract design or a realistic portrayal of nature, epoxy resin art can bring your vision to life. The possibilities are endless, and with Ressichem's expertise in resin technology, you can achieve breathtaking results that will leave a lasting impression.

Conclusion:

Epoxy flooring is undoubtedly the future of flooring solutions, and Ressichem stands at the forefront of this innovation. With their commitment to quality, Ressichem offers a diverse range of epoxy flooring options that combine durability, versatility, and customization. Furthermore, their expertise in epoxy resin art empowers you to elevate your space and create truly unique and captivating environments. When it comes to enhancing your space, Ressichem's epoxy flooring solutions are a clear choice for unmatched performance and aesthetic appeal.

Elevate your space with Ressichem's epoxy flooring and unlock a world of endless possibilities.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊.

DAY ELEVEN OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: cyberpunk au + fallen angel au + “i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you.”

pairing: fallen angel!joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, romance

summary: you and tess go in to dismantle a cult, neither of you were expecting to find a rugged fallen angel being experimented on.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: possessive!joel, piv, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, violence

a/n: this was heavily inspired by miyazaki's on your mark music video! also we're almost add the end babes, only one more to go, isn't that exciting!

Ash sticks to your skin. The air is warm and damp, the scent of it churning your stomach and making you want to vomit. You observe the city as the aircraft inch closer to a particularly fancy and tall building. Purple and blue neons bleed into the night sky, blurring the sight of the stars. Both you and Tess are standing at the edge of the opening, ready to make the jump down below. You look at her and she nods with a fleeting smile. 

“Let’s get these fuckers,” she says, her voice modulated as it echoes in your earpiece. “See you on the other side.” 

She extends a fist and with your heart still beating madly in your chest, you bump it. Without speaking, she counts down, one finger going down at a time.  Your gaze flits between the building and her hand, sweat building at your temples and sliding down your spine. You’ve heard of this place before. A religious cult famous for abducting people and in some extreme cases experimenting on them if they refused to follow the leader’s guidance. 

The last finger goes down and you both jump in unison. 

Your visor comes down, blocking the vicious wind from cutting your skin. Tess is slightly ahead of you, her helmet also fully materializing around her skull, brunette hair fluttering at her neck. The mission was simple. Go in and arrest who you can find, shoot those who resist. 

The two of you touch down on the rooftop of the target building and quickly pull out your weapons. Tess leads the way as you both enter the building through a concealed access point. The interior pulses with a neon-laden atmosphere, where every corner is bathed in vibrant, shifting hues. Holographic information displays punctuate the surroundings, casting an ever-changing cascade of colors across the sleek, polished surfaces. 

You and Tess navigate through the dimly lit corridors, guided by the faint hum of machinery and the eerie whispers of cult members echoing through the halls. The air is thick with tension, and every step feels like a potential trap. It almost feels like a labyrinth with the way the halls constantly turn and twist, you faintly hear Tess cursing from underneath her visor. You share her sentiment. 

Moving deeper into the building, you finally encounter the cult's followers. They wear a strange blend of traditional robes and cybernetic enhancements, their faces obscured by eerie masks that display holographic symbols and patterns. 

The confrontation escalates quickly. They don’t even have any weapons on them yet they jump you, before you can start shooting one of them gets the better of you and knocks you to the floor. Tess is there in an instant, a laser blade to the throat is all it takes for the person to go limp on top of you. 

The room erupts in chaos but it doesn’t mean much to either you or Tess. This wasn’t your first mission together, and the two of you had adapted a fighting style that complimented each other’s strengths. The deafening blasts of energy illuminate the room with dazzling bursts of color. Bodies fall, and the cult's resistance begins to crumble. 

You press on, determined to reach the heart of this twisted cult. Along the way, you discover hidden chambers filled with bizarre experiments and technology. You take a mental note to come back later on and investigate. The air is thick with the smell of chemicals and the unsettling hum of machinery. Tess makes a sharp turn and you follow, entering a dim room. More cult members attack you, they look like scientists, they fall just as easily as the rest.

“What the hell is this place?” Tess mutters, walking ahead and looking around. A blue hue coats the entirety of the room, the sound of liquids making up for most of the background noise. 

You notice a table right in the middle and without a second thought you head towards it, ignoring Tess’s warnings to be careful. Something draws you to it. To him. Your pulse quickens as you notice a man lying on top of the metal surface, eyes closed, seemingly sleeping. His chest is bare, the lower half of his body covered with a thin, dark pair of sweatpants. 

He’s beautiful. Rugged features scorned with cuts and bruises, but still stunning. His hair is a mess, lips chapped. He’s barely breathing, a sudden worry surrounds your heart, turns your stomach sour. 

“Hey, check it out,” Tess says, walking around the table. Her hand moves over a lifeless wing, feathered and dark as night. You hold your breath, eyes going wide. “Do you think these are real?” 

You don’t touch the wings, feeling like it might be disrespectful to the handsome man. You eye them warily and think about all the things these maniacs must’ve done to him. “They look real to me,” you murmur. “What should we do?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If we bring him with us surely the government will experiment on him too,” you point out. “He’s been through enough.” 

Tess drops the wing and raises an eyebrow, “You in love with him or something?” she shakes her head. “We really need to find you some good dick.” 

“That’s not what this is,” you hiss, cheeks burning up. “You know it��s not right. He can stay at my place.” 

“And you think they won’t come looking for him?” 

“They can’t look for something they don’t know that exists.” 

Tess contemplates your words for a moment and you worry this might be where she draws the line. Her kind eyes flit between you and the half-naked man, then her shoulders drop, yielding, she lifts her hands. 

“Fine, let’s get this hunk of meat out of here.” 

However, neither you nor Tess had calculated how heavy he would be. 

“Holy fuck, how much does he weigh?” Tess groans, holding him by the ankles. You had your hands tucked under his armpits, barely keeping him from dropping to the steel ground. 

“Maybe the wings add to it,” you answer, short of breath. Using the strength from your knees, you jerk him up so your arms can get a better grip. Sweat beads at your temples and slides down your cheeks. “Fuck—” 

“He’s gonna suck your fridge dry,” Tess huffs. “All the gadgets in the world and not one to carry a heavy. . . what is he? A damn bird?” she shook her head. “I don’t think I wanna know.” 

“If you could shut up for two seconds,” you say, gasping for air. “This might be easier. Besides, we’re at the door.” 

“Oh fuck, we actually are.” 

Tess manages to kick it open and you both peer down the rooftop, you hold on to the unconscious man tighter, scared he might fall. 

“What now?” you shout from over the wind. 

“Now,” Tess says, her gaze meeting yours, she flashes you a smirk. “We jump.” 

Despite the multiple rules you’ve broken by taking in Joel—a fallen angel he’d explained when he woke up, much to your disbelief— to your home a week ago, your mornings start surprisingly calm. You have a small apartment and as you head to the kitchen, you watch the trickles of the morning light warming the floors. You enjoy these silent hours in the city. No bright neon light burning your eyes, no constant buzz of huge billboards humming in your ears; just the sun, the soft sound of birds chirping and soft wind carrying notes of clattering dishes. 

You fill the kettle with water and place it on the stove, turning the flame on to let it slowly come to a boil. While waiting, you reach for your favorite coffee mug, the one with a chip on the handle that you can't bear to replace. As you retrieve the mocha pot from the cabinet, you notice a slight, fleeting shadow out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head to see Joel standing in the doorway, his wings tucked neatly against his back. He hadn’t been able to open his wings fully yet, his wounds too deep to heal. 

A sudden anger simmers in your soul. The things he must’ve endured and all for what? For a bunch of people to feel good about themselves? For the to find out how to be immortal? All of it was absolute bullshit. 

You pull out another mug. 

His dark eyes meet yours and you swallow, a shudder rolling down your spine, “Good morning,” you choke out, pouring some ground coffee into the mocha pot's filter basket and assembling the pot. The soothing sound of the kettle on the stove fills the room as you watch Joel walk closer, his steps nearly soundless. 

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, standing right behind you. His presence frying your nerves and making your hands tremble. “What’s that?” 

“Coffee,” you answer. You place it on the stove and turn on the heat. “I’m making you some too. You can try it,” then you turn, eyes going wide upon noticing just how close he is. His eyes bore into yours, observing your soul and every inch of your face. Your eyes trace the bridge of his nose and linger on his lips; so lush. The divot in the middle of his bottom lip entices you to come closer but you hold your ground. “Are you hungry?” 

He nods, eyes untrusting. 

“Okay,” you say slowly. “I’ll make us breakfast. How are your wings feeling?” 

He licks his lips, “Better.” 

You nod and look towards the fridge, your lips pressed tightly together. He finally backs away, allowing you to prepare an omelet for the both of you.

Joel silently watches as you crack the eggs and mix in the basil, tomato, and cheese.  He watches as you pour two cups of coffee and bring out the plates. He watches as you sit and finally turn to look at him; still standing in the kitchen, watching. . . observing. 

“Come sit,” you say and pull back a second chair. “You watched me prepare it there’s no poison in it promise,” you give him a playful smile and you swear the corners of his lips twitch. 

He sits and picks up his fork, you cut the omelet in half, sliding it over to his plate, “So since you never had coffee before I didn’t put any milk and sugar in it, you can taste it and if it’s too bitter I can add some.” 

Joel picks up the mug, his wings slightly raising in alarm as he sniffs the hot beverage. He raises a brow, eyes meeting yours, “How do you drink yours?” 

“With lots of milk.” 

“I feel like that defeats the purpose,” he closes his eyes and takes a sip. He smacks his lips slowly, eyes fluttering open to give you a look. “Not bad,” he says. “I like how the taste alerts me.” 

“Well,” you answer with a smile. “Don’t have too much of it or you’ll be up all night.” 

“Who says I’m already not?” 

You stiffen at the words, meant to be a playful quip turn real in mere seconds. Joel seems unaware of the sudden pressure forming in your shoulders, around your spine; he bites into his omelet, moaning at the taste—which adds a whole different kind of pressure. . . mostly gathered between your legs.

“Can’t you sleep?” you ask silently, looking down. “Because of. . . what they’ve done.” 

Joel lowers his fork, lifting his gaze in hopes of meeting yours, he furrows his brows upon realizing your downward-looking lips and your eyes that don’t meet his. 

“That’s a small part of it,” he says, the soft authority of his tone bringing your gaze back up. “I remember those moments in bits and pieces, they come and go. . . It’s the fall that still keeps me up at night. ” 

“The fall from. . . heaven?” 

“Yes.” 

And that’s it. He continues to eat, continues to drink until all of it is wiped clean in front of him. 

“Let me clean your wounds,” you say and stand up from the table. Joel hadn’t been able to fly at all since you and Tess busted him out of that hellhole. He had been reluctant to treatment but realized quickly that he needed modern medicine if he was going to get better. “I’ll be right back.” 

When you come back you find him sitting on his usual stool. It was high enough so that his wings wouldn’t drag across the floor. He sits silently, eyes like those of a hawk as he watches you place the supplies on the coffee table. You start by delicately peeling off the old bandages, ensuring they don't cause any pain or pluck a feather. The only sign that he feels any discomfort is the rapid pace of his breathing

You find that you enjoy these moments of vulnerability. Some part of you doesn’t want him to go. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, crumbling the old bandages and throwing them to the floor for later cleaning. 

His spine straightens, “For what?” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“You didn’t.” a moment of silence stretches between you before he speaks again. “You saved me.” 

“Tess did too,” you add, a small smile tugging at your lips. Those two had been butting heads as soon as Joel woke up. 

“She told me on multiple occasions that she would’ve left me to rot.” 

“That’s how Tess cares.” 

“Humans still confuse me.” 

You snort and begin cleaning the wound, he winces a bit, “We’re not all bad.” 

You’re happy to see that he’s nearly completely healed. His red, wet wounds from before now a tender pink. Your eyes move up to his neck. You’ve always stared at his neck since the very beginning. It reminds you of the columns of old temples that now lay in ruin thanks to the new world. His sun-kissed skin is a temptation, your lips tingling with the need to feel bare skin, wondering if it’s as warm as you thought. 

“I don’t think I should bandage up the wounds anymore, they should breathe,” you murmur, your voice coming out hoarser than you thought. “But still, you need to be careful.” 

Joel doesn’t say a word but his wings twitch as if they can sense your sinful thoughts. Maybe they do. You have no idea how angel powers work, or if he has any. 

He’ll leave soon, you remind yourself. You’ll be alone again. 

You don’t know what it is that guides your hand, but you realize in shock that your fingers start to dance along the exposed skin of his nape. Indeed it is as warm as you thought. You feel the way muscles tense under your touch, hear his heavy breathing. 

Reality comes crashing in and you pull away with a sudden flinch, an apology ready at your lips— 

He’s fast. Inhumanly so. Joel takes a hold of your wrist and pulls you to his lap, you fall sideways with a sharp yelp. The angel doesn’t say a word and tugs your head back, exposing your neck to him. You shudder at the touch of his lips. Whimper at the way he runs his nose down your collarbone. 

“I can smell the arousal on your skin,” he drawls and tastes your skin with the flat of his tongue. “I can taste it too. Such a sinful little thing.” 

“I—I’m—” You’re what? Sorry? You don’t feel sorry. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“You don’t have to. . .” 

Joel snorts, “I know I don’t have to. I want to,” he answers, he grips at your shirt and tugs you down while grinding up, the heft of his cock rubs against the swell of your ass. You both groan at the contact. “You feel that? You feel what you’re doin’ to me?” 

Your heart leaping, you guide his hand to the waistband of your sweatpants. His eyes flashing with desire, he slips his fingers under the fabric, you shudder at the drag of his fingers between your folds. Joel burrows his face into the crook of your neck, his chest rattling with a growl. 

“So wet,” he musters, the pads of his fingers stroking your throbbing clit. 

“Now you know what you do to me.” 

His wings suddenly stretch out from one side to the other, making him look even larger if possible. Your eyes go wide, lips parting with a soft gasp. You imagine if you stare at them long enough you could see stars. 

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he breathes, nostrils flaring. He pulls his fingers out and holds your waist in an iron grip. You whimper at the loss. “You don’t know me. This ain’t a game.” 

“That’s right I don’t,” you answer. “I only know what I feel. And what I feel, Joel, is something I’ve never felt before. Something that both excites me and makes me want to run and hide because soon enough, I’m going to have to deal with it all on my own. You’ll be gone and I’ll be here, trying to gather the pieces of my bleeding heart.” 

You think you might be imagining it, but his wings become a shield, caging you in. His gaze seems almost broken. Distraught. He mumbles something inaudible. Your brows furrow and you ask him to repeat himself. 

“My wings are healed. I lied to you.” 

You think you misheard him but at the same time you know you hadn’t. You blink rapidly. You don’t understand, how can be healed? 

“You can fly?” 

“I can, sweetheart.” he pulls you closer, your covered nipples grazing against his firm chest. Your breath catches in your throat. “I lied to you because. . . I don’t want to go.” 

“Joel. . .” 

“You still want me?” he asks, cutting you off, voice rueful. “I’m selfish. I get what I want and do anythin’ to make it happen. Why do you think I was cast out? Not exactly one of god’s favorites.” 

You feel his breath on your skin as he speaks. His voice deep, dripping like sweet molasses. You brush your lips together and his chest heaves, his grip on you tightens, his cock throbbing. 

“You’re my favorite,” you whisper. 

The dam breaks. 

You find yourself bent over the low coffee table, the wood creaking under your weight, your cheek smooshed against it. Joel holds your arms behind your back, rutting against your ass like some wild animal in heat. Arousal pools between your legs and you feel a fresh wave of wetness spreading within the threads of your underwear. 

“Do you even know how to fuck?” you ask, hoping to gain some kind of edge despite the obvious difference in strength. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you’d be surprised.” 

He pulls down your sweats and the heft of his cock weighs heavily between your ass cheeks. Slick gathers between your folds. A soft whimper trembles in your throat. You can’t see him but you can imagine him looking down at you, seeing how desperate and needy you are. Joel parts your cheeks and presses forward, his cock gliding between your soaked tighs. He groan rattles in his chest and you feel the bulbous head of his cock stretching your entrance. 

“Oh god. . . Joel. . .” 

A choked-out sound drops from your lips as he wraps his fingers around your throat and pulls you up, it’s harder to breathe in this position, your body bent in a way so that your eyes can meet. He kisses your forehead. 

“Not god,” he says, thrusting forward and filling you to the brim. Your face goes slack, brows pinching with pleasure and a hint of pain. Your moan is loud and long, your eyes still glued to his. You shudder at the intimacy. “It’s just me, sweetheart. No one else. I’m the only one that get’s to fuck this pussy—the only one that gets to see your face like that.” 

You lick your lips and breathe heavily. When you nod, Joel releases you and you fall forward, bracing yourself with your elbows at the very last second. 

“Look at you,” he groans, large hands stroking your cheeks. “Do you even know how soft and warm your insides are?” 

He doesn’t expect an answer as he pulls back, your body is set a flame, pleasure building and winding you up like a doll. Your thighs shake, he just watches you drown in your lust. He’s intrigued, you think, because he just waits with the head of his cock still inside. You wiggle your ass, hoping for him to move, to fuck you senseless. 

You’re reprimanded with a sharp smack to your ass but you welcome the pain, embrace it. 

You can’t see it yet you feel it. The vicious drip of his spit on your stretched-out hole. You shiver and your eyes roll back into your skull, his thumb traces where you two connect, smearing his saliva, “J—Joel, please,” you beg but you know it’s futile. He’s going to take you apart only to piece back together. 

“You still think I don’t know how to fuck?” he hisses, a cruel taunt you didn’t expect. You shake your head and close your eyes. Another smack follows, prompting the clench of your cunt. He groans. 

Joel finally gives you what you want. What you need. 

His pace is brutal, fast and hard, desperate, just like you feel. He knocks the air from your lungs with every thrust, the smack of his hips bruising. Joel has no shame in the voices he makes, he groans, moans and fucks you harder, forcing you to be loud with him. When you let out a particularly high-pitched whimper, he covers your body with his own like a blanket and ruts into you. His wings rustle and shake, the tip of it touching your lips before it moves away. You see bright starts when he grazes upon a particularly sensitive spot, your jaw dropping and body tensing. He mouths at your neck, hand sliding between your legs, the pads of his fingers brush against your puffy clit—

A knock. A loud one at that.

The sound startles you both into stillness, and you let out a hiss from under your breath. You’ve forgotten that Tess was going to come by. Apologetically you reach back and manage to squeeze Joel’s thigh, your fingers sliding over the muscle from sweat. Joel understands that this will have to wait but instead of letting you go like you expected, he lifts you up from the coffee table, your back flush against his chest. You both face the door and another knock follows, your body tensing. 

“I’m not gonna stop fuckin’ you for no one,” he groans, pushing even deeper. Your head falls to his shoulder and your nipples tight. “She can come back.” 

“Joel, she might hear us,” you hiss but make no move to actually stop him. You feel him smirking against your skin. He slowly draws his hips back and thrusts into you—hard. Your body jerks and you cover your mouth last second before a moan can slip out. 

“That’s it, just keep quiet and she’ll be none the wiser.” 

Tess’s voice calls out your name through the door and knocks again, louder this time. Your eyelids flutter, your orgasm rapidly building from the thought of being caught. If Tess decides to break the door, which you don’t put past her, she’d see you in your full naked glory; your breast swaying with every ruck of Joel’s hips, your face dazed as you attempt to keep your noises to yourself. . . 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet—you’re turned on, aren’t you? Filthy thing, you like the idea of your best friend seein’ you gettin’ your brains fucked out?” 

You don’t dare answer and instead, you just take it. His fingers toy with your clit, swirling and drawing shapes over and over until your entire body is trembling and your core is tight. Joel’s hips stutter, pacing frantic, “Yes yes yes yes—come for me, sweetheart. I wanna feel you so bad, come on, that’s it—that’s it—” 

It happens both suddenly and torturingly slow. Your body locks up and you squeeze around him, gushing and moaning helplessly into your palms. Your nostrils flare. Joel holds you tight, preventing you from accidentally jerking away and falling face-first into the table, you think Tess is still knocking but it soon ends. Your body is quivering, slick dripping, and sliding down his length. He kisses your cheek, then drags his lips down to your neck, sucking the sensitive skin. 

He starts to move again, “Joel,” you whimper and he stops, lips decorating your skin with more kisses. “I want you to come inside me.” 

You swear his cock swells even more. 

“Yeah?” he sounds amazed, almost. “You want me to fill this pretty pussy up?” 

“Please.” 

“A’right sweet girl, I will, I will,” he bites the tender flesh of your shoulder, hips drilling into you even harder than before. Your brain short circuit. Your poor, sensitive cunt tingling with overstimulation. With every snap of his hips you feel slick gushing from your core and your hands fully drop from your mouth, your body pliant with pleasure. 

It doesn’t take Joel long to come undone. He fucks into you one last time and keeps you still on his cock. Another orgasm rips from you at the pressure, his come filling you with violent, desperate spurts. His hips twitch. Joel licks the salt off your skin and then kisses the damp skin. You sigh with relief, hand dropping to your stomach. It feels good. So fucking good for him to claim you in such an intimate way. 

“Mine,” he growls, fingers biting into the flesh of your stomach. Again, his wings form a shield around you, trapping you two together. 

You smile and thread his fingers with your own, “Yours.” 

Note to self, always go to the door when Tess comes over. 

But honestly, how the hell were you supposed to know that she came over to warn you? 

You’ve seen the text first. You were out on the street doing some quick shopping before you returned home to Joel, however, before you could process what she had written you were surrounded. Familiar symbols of the cult decorated their suits and before you knew it, your vision blacked out. 

When you open your eyes once more, you notice that your hands are bound to the ceiling to keep you up. You hear the familiar buzz of the purple binds, much stronger and deadlier than regular rope. The back of your head throbs, an unpleasant pressure behind your eyes, you hiss and look down. 

The door opens. 

“Where is he?” a man with a white mask asks, stepping into the dingy cell. 

You raise your gaze, “Who?” 

You can’t see his face but you know he’s angry underneath the cheap plastic. He balls his hands into tight fists and before you know it, his knuckles hit you square in the jaw. You groan and spit up blood. 

“Where. Is. He.” 

You cough, the taste of iron overwhelming your taste blood. Still, you don’t yield. You look him straight in the eye and force a broken smile. 

“Who?” 

Joel knew all of it was too good to be true. 

The good food, the sex, the woman who loved him despite what and who he was—it should’ve tipped them off that it was only the calm before the storm. The solitude before ruin. He’d seen it many times before, why had he ignored it now? 

His eyes narrow and his wings fold, aiding his sharp dive to the building Tess had described. The wind slices at his cheeks, deafens him.  

Joel knows why he ignored it. 

It was because he was happy for the first time in forever. 

He crashes through the glass ceiling, shards of it bursting across the hard marble floor. He sees familiar people in suits covered in symbols. Joel snarls at them, his wings close to him. They���re the same people that imprisoned him—and now they had found the only thing he cared about to lure him into the wolf's den. Well, his capture won’t be easy this time. 

He’ll make them pay. He’ll make them all pay. 

Joel spreads out his wings and watches the foot soldiers cower in fear. He feels the dark energy pulsing in his palms, adding to his strength, and without a second thought he unleashes it, sharp arrows of darkness spearing their hearts, making them see their worst nightmares before falling.  

He kills, kills, and kills. They all feel his eternal pain before they fall, a fall that is much kinder than the one he had to endure. Joel leaves a trail of corpses on his way to you, his heart locked in fear of what might have happened to you. 

Joel senses you—your fear, your pain, your hope. He follows those strong feelings. You lead him to a hard steel door, and with the flat of his palm, the door turns to dust. 

Joel’s heart stops beating. 

You’re strung to the ceiling, your temple caked with blood, your body battered and bruised. You can barely breathe, your lips parting with short gasps. 

His rage is sudden and blinding. His shoulders raise with his wings, he sees the other man in the room with you, his gloved hands wet with your blood. The man turns to grab a weapon but Joel doesn’t grant him the favor. In the blink of an eye, he’s in front of him, his hands on his jaw, he forces the snap of his neck, a sickening crack echoing in the small chamber. 

He deserved something worse than death for hurting you, momentarily Joel regrets giving him the easy way out. 

“Joel,” your voice drags him away from his thoughts, his heart breaks at how soft it is. “Is that you?” 

Joel’s wings drop. He realizes his hands are wet with blood and shadows, he shakes the shadows off but the blood remains. 

“Joel?” you say again, and this time he snaps out of it fully, making his way towards you. He cradles your cheeks, kisses you deep before shattering the cuffs around your wrists. You sigh when you feel the familiar broad chest against your cheek, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Joel.” 

“It’s me,” he answers. “I’m—I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.” 

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. In the end, you got here, didn’t you? That’s what matters.” 

He should’ve come sooner. Shouldn’t have waited around for Tess, he should’ve broken into every building and burned this city down until he found you. Leaving the chamber, Joel is careful not to make any sudden movements. His eyes soften, a hard knot in his throat when you nuzzle into him while he carries you away. 

“I’ve got you now, sweetheart. You’re safe, you’re safe,” his grip tightens around you. “I will keep hurting. I will keep killing. Anything to protect you. Never again.”

His steps come to a sudden halt as he feels your weak touch on his cheek. Joel looks down in worry but you’re smiling, his chest lightens. 

“Same goes for me,” you say, voice hoarse. “They can break every bone but I’ll never let them take you. Never again.” 

Joel looks at your weathered body. Humans were always so fragile, so prone to death. You’re nothing but a speck of dust compared to the dangers that lurked in this world—compared to him. But human resilience has always been something that immortals had feared. 

He smiles and nods. 

Joel firmly believes, deep within his heart, that he is safe as long as you’re here with him.

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 9

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 6,800

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, peril, blood, and angst. 

Part 9: Breach

Loco’s eyes widened as he watched the surveillance feed. 

“Coño carajo,” he cursed in Spanish. “Hey, boss.” 

Frank was just about to step out of their “office” (a dusty back room behind the library). He stopped at his subordinate’s voice and turned back, frowning when he caught sight of the large triple screens. 

A helicopter had just landed on the roof of the mansion. It had a red banner painted with “Fiesta Tours” on the side. The door slid open, and out tumbled a skinny kid who fell onto his knees and threw up on the ground. 

His blonde girlfriend came out and patiently rubbed his back. Though she rolled her eyes at something the pilot said. 

It was Billy Butcher, which meant the other three assholes jumping out of the helicopter were the rest of his team that had eluded Antonio’s men in Medellin.  

“Damn it,” Frank muttered. “How’d they get through our airspace without tripping any alarms?”

“They stole a fucking tourist trap, bro,” said Loco.

By the time he glanced up, Frank had already moved back to his desk to unlock a large safe with both a code and a fingerprint. Out of the safe came a briefcase. Loco stood from his chair and grabbed his gun.

Frank popped open the case and grabbed one of several vials. He gave one to Loco and pocketed two more before he locked the briefcase again.

“Keep them busy,” Frank said. He pressed a finger to the communicator in his ear. “Saul, we have company. Meet me upstairs, then prepare the getaway as a contingency.”

“Got it,” Saul responded. He was currently on patrol on the east side. Frank knew it would take him roughly two and a half minutes to get back.  

“Y el Capitán?” Loco asked. And the Captain?

Meaning Soldier Boy. Instead of answering him, Frank pulled out his cell on his way out of the room. Loco was on his heels. 

“What?” said Ben. As usual, he sounded annoyed at being bothered. 

“Sir, we have a breach,” Frank said. “It’s Butcher.” 

Fuck. Ben grimaced, though he didn’t voice his displeasure. His hand tightened on the cell phone at his ear.

“Where is she?” he asked. He heard Frank give a command to check the feed. It was Loco’s voice that gave the reply.  

“In the garden,” Frank answered. 

Typical, Ben thought. The garden was your favorite place. You hadn’t told him that, but he’d caught you there often enough.

“All right, get her to the helicopter,” Ben said. “Take her to the next house. I’ll deal with Butcher and his cocksucking crew.” 

Frank resisted the urge to raise a brow, even if his boss couldn’t see it. Extracting you from the house was not the original plan. But he agreed and parted ways from Loco with a nod. 

When Saul caught up with Frank in the hall on the top of the stairs, second floor, Frank handed him a vial of V24. Both men shot up together, each taking sharp breaths at the intensity of unnatural green-hued chemicals running through their veins. 

Frank recovered first, rolling his shoulders as new awareness made his senses sharp, his blood already pounding with adrenaline. 

“The most expensive damn high I’ve ever had,” Saul remarked, smirking. 

Frank didn’t take the same pleasure in it, but he conceded that with a nod. Being able to see through walls was an advantage, at least. It just took a moment for his vision to even out and normalize.

“Get it done,” was all he said.

While Saul continued on to the roof with super speed, Frank made his way down the stairs, and through the French doors to the backyard. He found you there, sitting on the grass with a book in the garden. 

Good, he thought in approval of your jeans and V-neck top. You would be easier to transport this way. 

He called your name, and you greeted him with a smile, until you noticed his sternness.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

Frank pulled you up by your arm, firm but not painful. 

“We have to go,” he said. Despite your protests, he led you back inside, then up the narrow staircase that you realized would have to lead to the roof. There was nowhere else to go on the roof but up, and away. Frank was taking you away from the house. Why?

“It’s my team, isn’t it,” you said.

You stared up at Frank’s profile. His mustache often obscured his expression, but you caught the way his brows tightened, as did his hold on your arm. It felt tighter, stronger than usual, and not just because he hadn’t manhandled you in a long time. 

It raised your suspicions, but your heart was also thumping faster as you realized that your friends were here somewhere.

“Where’s Ben,” you demanded to know. A tendril of worry laced up your spine. “Where the hell are we going?”

“To a secure location,” Frank replied. But he didn’t give you more than that. You dug your heels in on the stairs and tried to work your arm out of his grip, but he was unrelenting. 

“Let me go!” you snapped. “I have to talk to them.”

“Boss’s orders,” Frank said, his jaw tightening. You could tell he didn’t want to hurt you, but he would drag your ass up the rest of these steps.

You were reduced to pleading. “Frank, please! He’s in danger.”

His eyes sharpened at that. 

“You may not believe it, but they can take him down,” you said. Desperation shone in your eyes, and you fought the conflicted nature of your emotions in what you were about to say.  

“If I’m there, maybe I can talk down both sides,” you argued. “I know you’re just following orders, but if you care about your next paycheck, you’ll fucking listen to me.”

Frank seemed to consider your words for all of three seconds. 

Then he continued to haul you up all the way to the roof. You were struggling and shouting, but you were made to go all the same. 

When the door opened to the roof, however, Frank caught a slender fist in his face, knocking him right out. You gasped as the man careened back and nearly bowled you over, but that same hand caught him by the collar and kept him from crushing you. 

You looked up and brightened with an incredulous smile.

“Kimiko!” 

The smaller woman gave you a smile and a small wave with her free hand. But before she could finish Frank off, you raised your hands against her raised fist.

“Wait! Don’t kill him,” you asked. “Just leave him here.”

Kimiko looked confused for a second, but she did as you asked and helped you let him down gently to the ground. You noticed the blood hastily wiped from her hand and face—onto her black leather jacket.  

“Where is everyone?” you asked. 

Kimiko signaled ahead, but you opened the door to the roof real quick, just to see the littered bodies of dead men on the ground. You blanched at the sight. 

You turned away from the scene and followed Kimiko, who lowered her head as she continued down the stairs. 

Despite yourself, you hoped Loco and Saul had gotten away, at least. They were your captors, but they’d never treated you badly. You’d even cooked for them, hung out with them, listened to them bicker and bitch, and watched them cheat one another at cards. They were criminals, but they weren’t monsters. 

And not wanting to see them die only scratched the surface of your conflict when you thought about Ben. 

As you and Kimiko jogged through the mansion, heading toward the sounds of fighting and yelling and destruction downstairs, your guilt began to grow. 

You knew very well what Ben had done. But the truth was, you no longer had the heart to condemn him.

To play jury and judge and executioner—interning him into an ice box until he could be neutralized, or until the end of his unnaturally long life.

To continue making him pay beyond his forty years of imprisonment. 

You’d seen the worst of him: his salaciousness, his temper, his trauma, his destructive coping mechanisms, and painfully outdated ideals. 

Yet, Ben was more than all of that. He’d allowed you to see more. 

But the moment you said any of that, you knew how he would react. Just as you knew how M.M. would look at you. And it made your chest ache and your mind spin faster than it already was. 

What the fuck am I going to do?

You got your opportunity to answer that question when a star bolt shot right in front of you and Kimiko—through the open door of a large room. 

It was big enough to be a ballroom for parties, but right now it was a battlefield between your friends, a support team of CIA officers, Loco and his team of men, and of course, Ben at the center. He was in his full Soldier Boy gear, complete with the stupid-ass helmet. 

While Hughie had clearly been made to hang out at the fringe of it all. He stood there, looking worried with a gun in his hand that he didn’t look all that comfortable with.

He noticed you and Kimiko first and called your name. You smiled and accepted the joyful hug he gave you (after he carefully tucked his gun in his pants). 

“You’re actually okay! I can’t fucking believe it,” he said. But then he quickly amended, “I mean, we all hoped you were still alive, I just mean—”

You just laughed and teasingly slapped his cheeks between your hands to stop his fumbling. “Thanks for coming to find me.”

Ben ears must’ve been perked up, because he sharply glanced over. You getting free wasn’t part of his plan, you knew, and he did not look pleased. Your amusement fading, you let go of Hughie and met Ben’s gaze across the room.

You were worried. About him. About everyone. 

“We don’t have to do this,” you told Hughie. Kimiko had already joined the fray to stop a gunman from clipping Frenchie from behind. 

Your earnest gaze met Hughie’s confused one. “He’s not what you think he is…well, not exactly, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “He fucking kidnapped you!”

“Technically, he didn’t. It was one of his overzealous groupies,” you replied, your expression firming at the thought of Antonio. “That guy’s dead. But there are more reasons. I’ve gotta stop this somehow—”

“That’s…not a good idea,” Hughie was saying, and even tried to stop you when you took the gun from his pants. But you ignored his protests and headed right into the jungle of bullets and star bolts, and the crunch of bone and blood. 

You didn’t shoot to kill, evading and defending yourself more than fighting back. Annie noticed you with a happy smile, as did Frenchie and M.M. Butcher was busy shooting at Ben with a fucking launcher. 

But Ben avoided the massive projectile with a simple knock of his shield. It sailed through the back windows, eventually exploding into the sky. 

For a moment, there was enough of a lull in the room that you took the opportunity to open your mouth, prepared to call out to both men.

However, something else broke through the windows—from the opposite side. 

It was a dart that landed between Ben’s feet, black and flashing a small red light. He rose a brow. But before he could just kick the thing away, it detonated.

The explosion was bigger than even Ben anticipated. It blew up a huge crater in the ground, knocking him and everyone else surrounding several feet away. 

Even you were tossed back. Your gun clattered away from you as you landed painfully on the ground, most likely onto a dead body. You blinked the haziness out of your vision as you struggled to recover, to pull yourself up. 

“What the fuck?” you heard Ben utter. 

When you turned your head, you couldn’t help echoing his statement. 

Black Noir was standing just before the large crater, the one he’d apparently created.

He’s dead, you thought dizzily. Or at least, he was supposed to be. Homelander killed him six months ago. 

Seriously, what the fuck. Ben was bewildered, to say the least. He’d been told that his unfortunate spawn had offed Noir, but yet here he was, the little shit. 

“Fucking Noir,” Ben said with a laugh, after he’d stood and made a show of rolling his neck. “What frosted hole did you crawl out of?”

The supe didn’t respond. Didn’t even move a muscle from where he stood in the center of the room. And the rest had gone quiet by now, waiting and watching as two predators approached one another.

“I heard you became a fucking mute,” said Ben. He smirked at the crater in his floor. “You’ve figured out how to make an entrance, I’ll give you that. But we both know you’re not up to this. You could never even shine my fucking shoes.”

Ben tossed the first punch. He expected the way Noir deflected, but not the force behind his blow, which pounded below Ben’s ribs and forced a grunt out of him. He actually felt it.

Along with subsequent punches Noir got in before Ben finally remembered to raise his shield and get back on the offensive. But now he was annoyed. Noir was never this strong, not even on his best day. What kind of bullshit does Vought got him hopped up on? More V?

And then, a solid punch to his face had Ben stumbling back. He caught his smarting jaw with no small amount of irritation, and he wiped at his nose. 

It came away bloody. Ben stared at it in disbelief, and then, in anger. Back from the dead or not, he was going to put Noir back in the fucking ground today. 

His blood burned hot. So much that he realized, belatedly, that his chest was starting to get that nuclear glow. 

Good, he thought. He’d blow a third hole through this cocksucker, and whoever else got in his way. 

“Ben!” 

Your voice cut through the whirring in his ears as he grappled with Black Noir, just loud enough for Ben to notice you. You weren’t far from your friends, but he realized then how close to danger you were. 

He was impossibly hot now, and still fighting hand-to-hand with Noir. His jaw locked as he tried to focus on the fight and figure out what to do. It was getting harder and harder to focus—on Noir, on the power growing inside him, on your worried face. 

Shit, wait—

And he lost control. 

It was all of seconds. 

Annie was just ahead of you, closer to the blast zone. So in those last precious moments, you made a decision: you pushed Annie out of the way.

Then your feet were once again swept from under you, and you flew back even harder than the first time. You blacked out before you had the chance to feel any pain.

That came later, the next time you opened your eyes.

When your vision was able to clear of the mess of colors and shapes, sharpening into focus, you saw Frank as he pulled you out of the rubble. But it was at your expense, as a sharp flare of pain erupted in your side. 

You didn’t recognize the sound of your own voice, a strangled groan. In the distance, maybe you heard Annie’s voice. Or even M.M.’s, you couldn’t be sure. You flashed in and out of consciousness after that. 

The next scene you truly remembered was being laid down on the floor of a helicopter. A backpack was tucked under your head. The engine was loud, rearing to go. Frank was shouting to someone, whoever the pilot was (you hoped it wasn’t Loco). 

“She needs more than a medic,” you heard Frank say. For a man who was usually so stoic, you thought you heard grave worry in his voice. 

You managed to look down, and you frowned at the long piece of wood protruding from your side. It wept blood beneath your ribs.

Your light green shirt was slowly getting stained, but your mind was so fuzzy, it was hard for you to understand what was happening.

“Let’s go!” Loco shouted. 

Oh, no, you thought. He was going to fly this thing.

“We can’t take off yet,” said Saul. “Where’s—”

A soot-stained hand grabbed onto the frame of the helicopter’s open door. You recognized that hand, followed shortly by the rest of Ben. His helmet was off, shield tucked onto his back. He looked pissed.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he snapped. His frown deepened the moment he saw you, which you didn’t quite understand.

“Ben,” you said, even though it was an effort to do so.

Every breath was like a hot knife cutting deeper into your side. Your eyes closed at the pain, and at tears that burned down your cheeks. It also cut through the brain fog enough for you to realize this was bad.

It was very bad. 

A splintered chair leg had impaled your body. 

“Get a vial,” you heard him say. 

What? You struggled to open your eyes again. Ben was there, looking down on you with a different kind of frown, and something deeper in his green eyes. His sweaty hair fell over his brows, and you had a sudden itch to brush the strands aside. 

You were pacified a little when his half-gloved hand came to rest on your head, over your hair. His thumb traced over your brow. 

“Hurry the fuck up, Frank,” he said, briefly glaring over your head. Frank soon appeared at your side. He held a green vial in his hands, tinged with blue. Your eyes widened. 

“What…”

“That needs to come out first.” Frank nodded at something you couldn’t see. You didn’t have the strength to look down anymore. You knew this was it, though.

You were going to die.

Ben’s hand braced your shoulder. His eyes met yours. 

You didn’t understand the thoughts crossing through them, or his hesitation. But you did feel it when he grabbed the large wood splinter and slowly pulled it from your body. Your scream sounded almost inhuman to your own ears. 

At least the pain was enough to knock you out once again.

Ben had no such reprieve as he looked down at the gaping hole in your side. Scarlet blood ran and pooled by his knees, even slipped through his fingers and around his hand when he tried to clamp down on the wound. 

“Fucking do it already,” he said through gritted teeth. 

With a short nod, Frank injected V24 into your arm. 

You healed in minutes. 

Breath drew into your lungs—a reflex as chemicals flooded through your blood and knit your organs, muscle, and skin tissue closed, even regenerating the blood you had lost. And it felt like a switch had turned on in your brain, set to “high voltage.”

You sat up as a ragged sound erupted from your throat. A hand closed on your shoulder, and you instinctively fought it off. 

“Hey. Easy,” said Ben.

Your breathing was shallow as you met his eyes, focused on his face. You noticed Frank on your other side, poised to support you if you needed it. You looked down and noticed your blood-soaked shirt, the blood on the floor of the aircraft, and the empty syringe in Frank’s hand. 

“You shot me up,” you realized. Your voice shook, but anger drew your brows together before you whipped your head back to Ben. “You shot me up with V24!”

He stared back at you, his expression tightening. “I saved you.”

“And you kidnapped me. Again!” you shouted. 

“You were hurt, and I saved your fucking life! Again,” Ben countered, gesturing at you with his blood-stained hand. But you glared at him.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you snapped. 

At that, Ben glared right back at you…but he stayed quiet. 

Good. You huffed and turned away from him. You folded your knees up to your chest and rested your forehead against your knees. 

You had nothing else to say to him. 

You ignored Frank’s helping hand when the helicopter finally landed at the next house—this time on the gravel driveway.

This place was at the top of a hill on the outskirts of a thick jungle. Once you were led inside, you could tell this house was smaller, though just as lavish as the last one.

Ben seemed too exasperated with you to follow you, instead going his own way to find his room upstairs. Frank led you to a guest room downstairs, where he informed you that he’d find you some new clothes. You were dismissive with him, and he left you alone soon after.  

Part of you felt bad for giving him a hard time. You knew he had saved you after the explosion. He’d likely gone out of his way to find you and pull you out of the rubble, but you couldn’t help it.

You were still salty about his part in your re-capture. Not to mention the fact that he’d given you temporary Compound V against your will. 

And speaking of which…

You sat on your new bed and looked down at your arms and hands, clenching and unclenching your fists. What mystery power had V24 given you?

As basic as it was, you felt…strong. Like you could run a marathon without stopping. Like you could punch straight through that wall, and not even feel it. You felt more than just confidence coursing through your veins, like no one and nothing could stand in your way.

Was this how Ben felt all the time? If so, you could almost understand why he could be such an asshole. 

But you also thought of how he’d been with you for the past couple of weeks; how much he’d shared with you about his parents, about his life before becoming Soldier Boy. And yes, how he’d saved you more than once. 

It just didn’t change the fact that he took you—away from your friends, and your chance at freedom. 

True to his word, Frank delivered a bag of clothes to your door about two hours after he’d left you in your new room.

You opened the door just enough to snatch the bag out of his hand, before closing the door in his face. You heard his tired huff on the other side, but soon enough, he walked away from your door. 

So you took your time in the shower, scrubbing grime and blood out of your hair, off your skin and from under your nails. Then you dressed in a shirt and some yoga pants from the bag Frank gave you.

And you tried not to miss the house in the mountains while you wandered this one. You opened every door you came across, finding more guest rooms, a laundry room, the kitchen.

But you stopped once you reached the gym, complete with an elliptical, a couple of treadmills, hand weights, a sparring mat, and a large punching bag.  

Venturing inside, you found some sports tape to wrap up your hands. Then you wandered over to the punching bag. With a resigned sigh, you aligned your hips correctly, bending your knees with your fists raised up to your chest. And then, steeling yourself, you tested out your strength with a single punch. 

It sent the punching bag flying on its chain and hitting the wall. A loud thump echoed through the room, even making you flinch. 

Yep. Definitely got super strength, you thought with a frown. Basic, but useful, you supposed. 

“Whoa,” Ben said with a chuckle. You turned your head and found the man leaning casually in the doorway. He was out of his uniform, freshly washed, and wearing a plain black shirt and dark wash jeans. It was a more modern look for him. You couldn’t help eyeing him from head to toe.

His sharpening grin told you that he noticed.

“At least you got something good,” he remarked. 

“Leave me alone,” you groused. You threw another punch. This one tossed the bag hard and created a massive indent and several hairline cracks in the wall. 

Feeling a suspect prickle across the back of your neck, you twisted and aimed your next punch behind you. Ben caught your fist with an amused grin. You found it damn infuriating. 

So you tossed out a left hook. He evaded it with a tilt of his head, but when he pushed you back, you actually felt his strength behind it. It only forced you a couple of steps back though. 

Ben baited you with a beckoning hand and a cocky smirk. “Take your best shot, sweetheart.” 

You narrowed your eyes. If nothing else, you were going to wipe that smirk off his bearded face. 

He let you come at him first, blocking your first and second blow before throwing a punch of his own. You grabbed his wrist and put all your strength in cracking your elbow into his face, making his head snap back with a grunt. 

Ben’s hand went to his nose, and actually came away bloody. He hummed, and his gaze flicked up at you. It was your turn to smirk. You got back into your ready stance and tilted your head at him in challenge. 

Ben chuckled and rolled his neck. “All right, baby doll. I’ll give you that one.”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you retorted.

You ducked his attempt to grab you and drove a knee into his gut. Then you stepped between his feet, breaking his stance and his balance by flipping him over your shoulder. You just didn’t expect him to drag you down with him.   

The two of you tussled across the ground, rolling off the sparring mat and onto the hard wood floor. Ben managed to pin you down for a moment, but apparently, you’d been endowed with superior flexibility as well. You grabbed his neck and kneed him in the ribs with all the force you could muster. 

Ben uttered an annoyed grunt. He flinched and unwittingly allowed you the opening you needed to wrap your thighs around his hips and flip you both over—until you were the one pinning him down. 

You knew he wasn’t trying his hardest, however. He was trying to subdue you, not fight you for real, or he would’ve thrown you off by now. He was going easy on you, and it made you irrationally angry.

So you slapped him. Ben blinked and looked up at you, incredulous. 

“Oh, you better be fucking careful—” 

You cut him off with another slap. “Fight me!” 

Ben grabbed your wrist before you could slap him again. His green eyes glittered dangerously, but you stared down at him, unafraid.

Both of you were breathing hard. You were straddling his waist, your free hand braced on the floor by his head. A line of sweat rolled down from your cheek to your neck. His eyes followed the path of it down your shirt.

By the time his hot gaze snapped up to yours, you knew you were in trouble. And there would be no escape. 

Ben hooked a hand on the back of your neck and crashed your lips against his. You slapped a hand against the floor, but you didn’t pull away. You did demand from him in turn, forcing your tongue into his mouth and grabbing at his hair. 

Ben wrenched up your shirt, and you helped him raise it over your head, followed by his shirt and belt. He sat up enough to drag your yoga pants down your thighs, while you broke open the button and zipper of his jeans. 

His lips attached themselves to your neck, sucking and biting until you cried out in his ear. You gripped his hair tight when his thick fingers found their way between your folds and slipped inside you.

Your sighs turned into moans of pleasure as his fingers worked you over, gathering your wetness and rolling over your clit roughly. 

“Ah, shit,” you uttered. All you heard from him were his sharp breaths as he concentrated. 

You instinctively squeezed his hips tight between your thighs. You knew he could get you off just like this, but you were too impatient. You stopped his hand and pushed him down, and with your newfound superhuman strength, you were actually able to do it. 

His back hit the ground with a thud, and he smirked up at you, letting you tug his jeans and boxer briefs down. 

You didn’t stop until his cock was freed, and once you positioned yourself, you sunk down, burying him into your wet heat. Both of you groaned in relief, and your inner walls tightened around him on reflex.

Ben’s grip on your hips became crushing. Had you been normal, it would’ve broken your bones. “Fuck. Gonna take me for a ride, baby girl?” 

“Hell, yeah,” you said, panting for breath. “Buckle the fuck up.”

You were surprised that he was letting you stay on top, but his eyes were alight with desire. You braced your hands on his shoulders and began, rolling your hips at a slow, deep, almost torturous pace. Ben’s head snapped against the floor in frustration, his eyes closing.

“Christ. If you don’t fucking move, I’m gonna do it for you—”

You snapped your hips hard, cutting him off from his words with a guttural sound. Your own release was building. You could taste it, but you could also admit, while pleasant, this pace wasn’t going to cut it. Bracing a hand on his chest, you increased the tempo of your rolling hips. 

Ben’s hands reached up to palm your breasts over your bra, then forcibly freed them without taking it off. You gave a pleased sound when he roughly squeezed and rolled his thumbs over pert nipples. Your hands wandered down his chest, over his arms, whatever you could reach. 

Then Ben’s jaw clenched, and he sat up with you in his lap. You felt his body tensing beneath you. With little warning, he spilled hot inside you. You gasped at the feeling of him, then at his insistent fingers above your entrance, roughly rubbing at your clit. Soon enough, you came along with him.

Gasping for breath, you clung to his shoulders. Both of you were dewy with sweat. Your bra was tucked up all the way into your shoulders, and neither of you had been able to completely slip out of your pants. His hair was wild, as was yours, you were sure. 

Ben’s hands pressed against your lower back, and his cock was still bottomed out inside you. But all you could do was hold onto him.

“See?” Ben said. His voice was deep and full of grit in your ear. “Isn’t it better this way?” 

Your brows furrowed, and you pulled away enough to see his face. 

“You…you prefer me as a supe, don’t you?” you said. Ben’s mouth closed, but he rose a brow as if to say, why not?

You finally noticed the deep cracks in the wall, the small craters in the floor under your knees, and by Ben’s head. There was still a bit of blood congealed around his nose from when you’d hit him.

“This isn’t me,” you said, though you hated how your voice shook. Emotion burned in your eyes, threatening to create tears.

You let go of his shoulders and slid off of him, pulling on your yoga pants and tugging down your bra. Ben watched you from his seat on the floor, with a tensing of his jaw and knitted brows. 

“I don’t know if you just like playing with me, or if you actually care about me,” you said, scooping up your shirt. Your eyes met his with an angry glare. 

“But if you ever give me Compound V against my will again, I’ll never forgive you.”

Butcher stared into his fifth of whiskey, already anticipating his second. If nothing else, Soldier Boy kept a well-stocked liquor cabinet. 

While the CIA combed through the half-ruined mansion, Butcher sat in the kitchen while Hughie and Annie’s arguing grated on his ears.

“She fucking took my gun, had this crazy look in her eye, like she was gonna talk Soldier Boy down. By herself,” said Hughie. “But her exact words were, he’s not what you think he is.”

“She saved me,” Annie said. “She wouldn’t just go with him.”

“She went willingly,” said Butcher. “Ain’t no other reason why she’s alive.”

“Nah, man,” M.M. said. He shook his head, then rested it on a thoughtful fist. “I saw it. One of his guys pulled her out after the blast. He took her.”

“But for what? Why would they want to keep her?” Annie said incredulously. 

“You think, maybe…Soldier Boy likes her?” Hughie asked.     

Butcher considered that with a dark chuckle, then a long sip of his whiskey. 

“We can work with that,” he said. “O’ course, now we got Black-fucking-Noir to deal with as well. Question is: was he after us, or Soldier Boy?”

Trust M.M. to address the elephant in the room. 

“And how the hell is that motherfucker alive?” he added.

Ben was contemplating that very same question. He sat at an old mahogany table in a stuffy old room, while his men argued in front of him. 

“He had regenerative abilities,” Saul reasoned. “Vought probably got him to a hospital after Homelander left him for dead.”

“No way, man. I heard his fucking intestines were hanging out of his stomach like a goddamn fish,” said Loco. 

“Maybe it wasn’t him,” Frank suggested. 

“No,” Ben said. He had his chin propped on his fist. “It wasn’t him. Not the real Noir.”

He didn’t know how he knew, but it was a gut feeling. Whoever that had been behind that black mask, he was strong. As strong as Homelander had been, which made Ben’s gears turn on the possibilities… 

“Saul.” Ben looked up at his subordinate. “Assemble a team. You’re going back to the States for some reconnaissance. I want to know exactly what the fuck Vought did, and what else they’ve got in their fucking arsenal. If Stan Edgar’s after me, then he’s gonna get it up the ass.”

He should’ve never let that little weasel get even an inch of a hold back into him. Now Stan thought he was going to double cross him? Again? 

Yeah, fucking right. The thought stirred the rage in Ben’s blood…but he forced it down to a low simmer. This time, he would be smarter about this. 

Stan had a bad habit of playing God. Ben wanted to know how he did it this time…though that same gut was telling him that he already knew.

No matter how you tossed and turned, the chemicals of V24 still coursing through your blood wouldn’t allow you to sleep. 

After another fruitless hour, you turned onto your side. This time, you had a room with an old-fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand. It read close to two in the morning. 

You huffed and dragged yourself out of bed, but you didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas before you slipped on your sneakers and left the confines of your room. 

You still weren’t being watched, but you knew better than to try and escape either. You noted the newly installed surveillance cameras in every hallway and every room. 

You wandered a bit aimlessly, but somehow, your feet took you down to the kitchen. There you found Ben, sitting at the kitchen table with his third beer. To be fair, you were sure it was like water to him. 

He looked up at you when you came in, making you stop short. You weren’t sure where you stood with him after today. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to be in his presence.  

But when he gestured to the empty seat in front of him, you found yourself grabbing a beer from the fridge and joining him at the table. 

“Can’t sleep?” you asked. It wasn’t the first time, and Ben was just as evasive. His eyes roamed your face before they returned to his beer. 

Regardless, you suspected what his answer might’ve been if he were honest. Because that moment—calling his name, seeing that nuclear light, pushing Annie out of the way, being pulled back into the world by searing pain in your side—it was keeping you up too.

“What do you feel when your chest lights up?” you asked. Maybe it was too bold of you, but right now, you felt confident enough in your super strength to test him.

Ben’s gaze found yours dryly. 

“Hot,” he replied. 

“Well, yeah. You’re pretty much radioactive,” you quipped. “I’ll be surprised if I don’t have fucking cancer yet.” 

He frowned at you in annoyance while you sipped at your beer. 

You hummed, tapping your nails on the glass in contemplation. “Maybe Vought could help you neutralize it. Even I can admit, they have some of the best scientists in the world on their payroll.”

“I wouldn’t let Vought handle a cup of my fucking piss, let alone poking and prodding and studying my fucking blood,” Ben snapped. He wouldn’t be anyone’s fucking lab rat. Not again.

“Like an experimental drug, for example. Given to you against your will,” you wryly supplied. But your voice was edged with agitation.

Ben’s face tightened into a glare. “If you wanna say something, fucking say it.”

You could later admit, you lost your temper then. You shoved away from the table, too angry to even take your beer with you.

“You know, you still haven’t even apologized!” you said. But before you could leave, Ben’s chair scraped across the ground as he stood and grabbed your wrist. He tugged you back to face him, and he stood looming over you with a steely frown.

“You want a fucking apology for saving your miserable life?” he asked. 

“If I’m miserable, it’s only because of you,” you spat. 

Ben scoffed, though his grip on your wrist tightened. “We both know that’s a lie.” 

You just stared up at his face and spewed words you knew you didn’t mean.

“You don’t know anything about me, Ben.” 

His body was wound tight, his frown tight and almost sneering. You were furious—at his smugness, at your inability to completely hate him. But you both faltered once your eyes met his. 

When his lips once again crashed against yours, you opened your mouth to him, pulling him down to you by his shirt.

Ben dragged you flush against him, first by your hips, then by your hair. He forced your head back so he could deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with yours. 

His fingers then pressed their claiming marks into your side, in the same spot where you were stabbed this morning. Where you had only been healed with the chemicals still coursing through your veins. 

That thought alone cut through the intoxication of his kiss, and made you remember yourself.

You pushed hard against his chest. You were still strong enough to force him back a step or two. Ben stared back at you in irritation. 

“What’s your fucking problem?” he shouted. “Would you rather I’d let you bleed out on the fucking floor?”

“I know! I know I would be dead,” you said, matching his volume.  

No matter how you felt about Compound V, there was no doubt, he’d saved your life. 

But what you’d said to him then still stood. 

“If you hadn’t tried to waste Black Noir with a power you can’t control, then I wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. That’s the definition of collateral damage,” you said. 

Ben crossed his arms defensively. 

“You’re the one who jumped in front of the bullet like a goddamn moron,” he said. “Ain’t my fucking fault if you get yourself killed.”

And just like that, your anger faded…into dismay.

He might very well care about you, but in many ways, he was still an asshole. And you were exhausted.

“Fine, Ben.” You blinked past the well of tears burning in your eyes, but your refused to let them fall. 

After you turned away from him, you didn’t see how his face fell, with both disappointment and guilt breaking through his anger. Your next words would sear into his mind for days to come. 

“Just leave me the hell alone.”

AN: 🤭 Please don't hate me! loll They'll get back on track soon enough...

Next Time:

“Why are you trusting me with this?” you asked. 

Ben’s lips quirked wryly, but there was little humor in it. His hand, half-covered by his glove, reached up to brush your chin. 

“I’m not,” he replied. “I expect you’ll jump at the chance to get back with Butcher and your asshole friends. But either way, I’m gonna find out if you were worth it.” 

Keep Reading: PART 10

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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