#Automatic Two Head Liquid Filling Machine

[adinathinternationalindia]

Automatic Two Head Liquid Filling Machine

The most popular type of filling machine for filling liquid in various container types is the Automatic Two Head Liquid Filling Machine, often known as the bottle filler. Aqueous solutions, foamy liquids, and semi-viscous solutions can all be filled with our selection of filling machines. PET, plastic, glass, aluminum, stainless steel, copper, and other containers can all be filled using bottle liquid filler. Adinath bottle filling machines can be used to fill bottles, jars, containers, and other solid packing types. The foundation structure, piston pump, filling needles, and a conveyor belt with stainless steel slats make up the basic unit.

The type of liquids, container height, diameter, neck size, and fill volume all affect how quickly bottle filling machines operate. In accordance with cGMP rules, the entire machine construction, including the frame structure, is finished in stainless steel. For a smoother operation, the machine has optional turn tables at the in-feed and out-feed stations with separate drives to match the pace of incoming and outgoing bottles.

The machine can fill bottles ranging from 10ml to 1000ml. We manufacture bottle filling machines with speeds ranging from 20 to 300 beats per minute.

[please-destroy]

It Only Takes A Moment

Natasha Romanoff x Shy!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

.

“I feel like shit.” 

Natasha commented out of nowhere from the sofa across the room. 

You startled at her unexpected statement. Your cereal-filled spoon froze halfway to your mouth. You’d never had a one-on-one conversation with Natasha since you joined the Avengers six months ago.

Then, you noticed Clint shuffling bleary eyed towards the fridge. Your shoulders relaxed.

He yawned, rubbing his face as he regarded Natasha assessingly. You were perched at the breakfast bar, unobtrusive as usual.

Natasha was on the opposite side of the large space, feet curled beneath her on the tiny sofa. 

A purpling bruise on her cheek and a split lip were the painful remnants of her last mission. She looked pale too, tired in an almost chronic way, despite the empty coffee mug next to her.

“You look like shit, too.” Clint decided at last with a lazy grin. 

Natasha smirked back, obviously satisfied with his teasing response. You remembered your cereal and took another spoonful. Curiosity always burned inside you when you watched the two of them interact. You’d never had a mission with either of them before. You didn’t understand the lightness of their back and forth.

As you chewed on your breakfast, eyes roaming over Natasha’s injured face, you felt concern build inside you.

Clint gave you a friendly nod as he stacked a pile of snacks in his arms and left the room.

A steady silence returned in his wake. You were unbearably shy around Natasha as a rule. Something about her calm confidence and unreadable expression made you feel nervous. 

You knew the other Avengers just thought you were quiet.

Natasha was staring absentmindedly out the large window, her coffee long since finished. You followed her gaze outside, glancing up at the pale yellow sun that was still new in the sky.

You watched Natasha’s mouth twist into a subtle grimace of pain as she lifted her hands to try and tie her hair back in a ponytail.

You felt certain as you watched her that her injuries were more than just a bruised cheek. The worry bubbled inside you.

Eventually, Natasha gave up, letting her hair fall back down around her shoulders in a loose curtain. She looked entirely unlike herself. Until today you’d never seen her hair out of a braid.

You slipped off your bar stool and cringed at the way it squeaked on the tiled floor. You hesitated as you put your dishes in the dishwasher. Every day usually followed the same pattern. You knew Natasha was paying no attention to you, expecting you to leave the kitchen and go back to your room. 

When you turned instead to the coffee machine, you felt Natasha’s eyes flicker back to you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

.

When you walked over to her, fresh cup of coffee in hand, it was the first time you’d ever surprised Natasha. 

You handed her the mug with a wordless smile.

Natasha’s answering smile was soft but her eyes held a subtle confusion. 

‘Thank you.’ She breathed, blowing automatically on the hot liquid. 

Nerves fluttered inside you. You forced yourself to speak.

‘Are you really okay?’ You asked, as your worry escaped you.

For a brief moment, shock rendered Natasha silent. Her head tilted to the side as she stared at you.

You didn’t know where your bravery was coming from. A burning embarrassment began to build inside you.

Natasha’s expression softened suddenly. She hesitated and then started to speak. 

‘I’m okay. Just had one of those missions.’

You nodded in response, your eyes lingering automatically on the painful looking bruise. From the things you’d overheard about the mission, you knew she was underplaying it. You bit your lip. Natasha watched you silently. 

‘Can I help with your hair?’ You asked at last, in another worried burst that you couldn’t seem to control.

A slight flush caught Natasha’s cheeks. Something like shame flickered in her eyes, gone a moment later.

Your breath caught. She was more human than you’d realised. More beautiful too. 

‘Thank you.’ Natasha replied quietly. ‘I think I’ve hurt my shoulder.’

You nodded again, moving to stand behind the tiny sofa. You lifted her hair tie from the side table and slid it over your wrist. 

You felt Natasha’s body freeze at your first hesitant touch. 

You knew she was expecting you to tie her hair back in a quick ponytail. Instead, hardly daring to breathe, you tried something different. 

Natasha’s breath hitched when she realised what you were attempting. 

You started carefully, twisting pieces of hair together.

‘You don’t have to braid it.’ Natasha whispered after a moment, her quiet voice burning with a sudden rawness. You found yourself wishing that you could see her face. 

‘You like it braided.’ You answered simply. 

Natasha held herself impossibly still as you tried your best to replicate her usual braid. You noticed the light goosebumps raised on her skin.

Eventually, you tied the last piece, your fingers lightly brushing against her neck. 

You moved back around the sofa to face her. 

You weren’t sure if it was the flushed cheeks or your imperfect braid that made Natasha look so young. Her gaze searched yours, her eyes vulnerable.

‘It’s not very good.’ You apologised quietly. 

Natasha shook her head.

‘It’s good.’ She countered simply. There was a raw, raised scar on the back of her hand. You wondered how you’d never noticed before.

Natasha nodded to the space next to her on the sofa. She smiled suddenly, a flash of her usual cool confidence.

‘Do you want to watch some TV?’

You nodded, feeling a warm rush at the familiarity of her tone. A barrier had fallen between you. 

As you settled on the sofa, Natasha switched on the television. The daytime show was familiar, often left playing in the background of the room. 

Natasha touched the end of her braid as she watched. Her gaze stayed on the show, a picture of relaxed attention. 

You couldn’t say the same for yourself. Her light joke to Clint played in your head. The bruises, the scars, the pained movements. 

 After a few minutes, another question fell from your lips. 

‘Was it scary?’ You asked suddenly.

You watched Natasha freeze momentarily, a difficult emotion filling her eyes. You watched her blink the feeling away. She didn’t reply. 

You turned your gaze back to the television, stomach twisting for what she didn’t share. 

Eventually, you settled back against the sofa cushions, finally beginning to relax in her presence. Natasha sipped the last of her coffee.

Your usual shared silence returned.

You hoped you hadn’t ruined everything with one question.

The show ended and a commercial break began.

‘It was.’ Natasha murmured unexpectedly. Your head turned towards her.

‘It was scary.’ She whispered into the air.

This was not Natasha. Not the person everyone else saw. This was someone else. You saw her entirely for the first time.

Unspoken sympathy filled your answering gaze. 

You took her scarred hand in yours and rested it on your lap.

[mushroommanstan]

I’m OBSESSED with your creepy Tenko omg. I’d loooooooove to strap him down to his bed for hours with one of those automatic cock sucker pumps that just completely milks him until nothing else comes out and his eyes roll back and he’s drooling like in his favorite hentais. And maybe some sweet aftercare from the reader after he’s too fucked out to even speak<3. UGHHHHH he gives me cuteness aggression or something I swear I wanna eat him up

“Alright baby, just a little more.” You said, dabbing his forehead sweat with a towel as he jerked around. He was a moaning mess, his eyes rolled back into his head as the machine did its job, not even slowing for a second as he busted another load. You watched the thick white liquid being sucked through a transparent tube, before dripping into the thermos with the rest.

One could argue what you were doing was selfish, using your boyfriends body to make some bucks. But he agreed to it, and by the looks of it he certainly didn’t mind. So really what’s the harm?

You got the idea while having sweet sweet sex with your beloved Tenko. You needed the stress reliever after trying, and failing, to collect enough pocket money for the new limited edition Super Hero Bros game before it went away forever. It wasn’t enough, those games were always wicked expensive, and with finals coming up you couldn’t give it the attention it needed.

So, of course, you went to your boyfriend for help. You needed his long cock to pound the stressful thoughts out of your brain for a while. So happily, he accepted your invitation to the party between your legs, and began pounding into like there was no tomorrow, like usual.

You noted in your foggy brain how weird his stamina was. Like always, he kept cumming in short sporadic bursts of 2 to 3 minutes, but not even stopping for a second in between. It always left a waterfall of cum flowing out of you by the end, one that’s a pain in the ass to clean if you’re being honest.

Just think though, all those people with erectile dysfunction and stuff who wanna have kids, meanwhile you’re wasting the breeder of the century by just washing away his cum every time. Hmmm, actually… maybe… I wonder if?

Afterwards, after the both of you were satisfied to the moon and back, just barely awake you searched up on your phone if you could sell cum. The sperm banks rates immediately showed up and… oh man… that’s a lot. And-and that’s just for one little cup? Tenko could fill those up like a god damn dispenser. Damn, that’d be like printing your own money…..

Which is what led you to the present. Currently, you had Tenko strapped to the bed (the restraints were his idea) spread eagle with one of his old vibrating fleshlights on his spicy boner. You were able to use your engineering classes for knowledge and resources to attach a clear tube to the fleshlight that would collect the sperm and transfer it into one of your thermoses.

Despite him agreeing to this, you felt a little bad about using him like this for a profit, so you decided to make this as fun for him as possible. That, and well, you just like seeing him squirm. So while the expensive hand-less fleshlight did it’s thing, you put his scrawny thighs over your shoulder and just demolished his prostate with your fingers before grabbing his favorite strap on.

You two have been doing this for hours, pushing his body to the limits, and at this point he was reduced into a puddle of tears and “milk”. His eyes were rolled back into his head, his face a red mess, his eyes now waterfalls, and his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he screamed for you.

“C’mon baby” you said, stroking his cheek lovingly before slapping him, making him moan out. “Just one more then we’ll stop. You can do it.” Your hips were beginning to buckle, stiff and sore from the constant thrusting but you persevered. You couldn’t stop now, not when he was mewling so preciously for you, still moving his hips along with yours and thrusting into the fleshlight like a bitch in heat. Fuck, he was so beautiful like this, you almost wanted to leave him like this and keep him as the work of art he is. But you knew that wasn’t possible, so you instead savored every drool filled, eye rolling lustful second with him.

It didn’t take long before he let out a hoarse, reedy whine, signaling his closeness. You smirked, beginning to fondle his balls as you milked his body for all its worth. He whines out, his worn body tensing as the last of the cum in his balls is pulled from his cock in a flurry of white hot pleasure. He tries to scream, key word here is try, as only a few spurts of cum come out, the very last of the batch, something you thought you’d never see. You wait until it’s completely traveled into the thermos before you pull out, turning off the powerful vibrator attached to your hips.

It takes a few good tugs to get the pump off him even after it’s turned off, and his cock, now devoid of life to give, falls limp onto his stomach, shrinking slowly back into its dormant state.

You tighten the lid on the thermos before placing it into the freezer in his mini-fridge, right next to the frozen pizza pockets and vodka he keeps in there. Yeah, he’s a little naughty. Then you shoot a quick text scheduling the appointment at the “bank” before turning your attention to your sweet baby.

He’s completely drenched in sweat, the bedsheets too, but he’s too exhausted to move. So you grab some wet wipes and wipe him down till he’s passably clean before pulling his boxers back up and collapsing next to him.

You wrapped your arm around his chest, tsking as you felt him tremble. He was crying softly, letting out little hiccups as he tried to calm down. “Oh calm down, you big baby.” You said softly.

He didn’t look at you, his eyes still glued to the ceiling and exotropia’d slightly in exhaustion. You got a little worried, only teasing before, so you whispered concernedly “you doing ok?”

Your head, nestled into his neck, felt his chin bump into it as he gave the faintest of nods making you sigh in relief. You kissed his neck, fretting a little over the texture of the fresh scars, and slapping his shoulder not too hard and scolding him. It was clear from just one glance at his state that no words were going to stick, so you sighed, pulling the blanket over the two of you and promising yourself to punish him in the morning. Maybe some spanking? Yeah, that’ll do it.

You know he’s trying to stay awake a little longer, just for you. You could see his eyes straining as he waited to see if you had anything left to say. And while it was sweet, you knew he desperately needed to rest, so you decided to hit his natural snooze button.

You weaved your fingers in his dark hair poofs, and immediately his eyes fell shut like they were weighed down by rocks. His mouth fell open and the room was filled with soft, but reasonably loud snores. You didn’t mind though, not when he has just the cutest snores ever.

You fell asleep, cuddled up to him not too long after that, and when you woke up you were in for a shock. Turns out, dangerous, world ending quirk gene having sperm goes for A LOT. Mostly from people buying it so it doesn’t get in the wrong hands. You guys were actually able to get TWO games instead of one. So… score!

[open-hangar]

Prison Force Chagger Ep. 4

From the desk of Dr. Ishikawa

CODENAME: CHAGGER FORCE

Size: 80m, 1.1k tons

Power Output: ~1.3GW/minute per reactor, recommended active reactors: 3

Pilots: 1 per active reactor, non-negotiable. Each reactor requires constant monitoring to prevent overloading leading to overheating and necessary excess chargon venting, which must be avoided at all costs!

Weaponry and abilities: Flight, reactive armor, martial strength far outweighing standard Lanzer strength. Able to use appropriate-size weaponry, if necessary [Note: if you’re a coward.]

CODENAME: CHAGGER WASP

Size: 30m long, 10m wide

Power Output: 10kW/minute

Pilots: 1

Weaponry and abilities: No weaponry, flight, reactive armor. To be used exclusively for chargon injection and pilot transfer into Chagger Force, followed by automatic retrieval. Incredibly dangerous to be used for anything else, due to most of the weight being dedicated to containing the highly volatile chargon.

Wolfgang wasn’t kidding about the smell. It’s a strong, but not unpleasant, combination of dust, lotion, and WD-40. The entire room is filled with massive computer racks, all lit up and spinning to accomplish some unclear purpose as light comes in from the massive windows stretching along each wall. I quietly attempt to make myself known to whoever may be dwelling between the machinery. A dense, gravelly sound comes from the side of the room facing the setting sun.

“Yes, here.”

I walk down the rows, trying to find the source of the voice, and just find more and more tubes stretching from ceiling to floor, until I reach the window and see what the tubes are attached to. A man, or at least something that looks like a man, is shriveled and decrepit, sitting in what can only be described as a throne made of machinery looking out the window. I’ve never seen a living person who looked this old. I attempt to greet this person and introduce myself, but…

“I don’t care. I’m Dr. Ishikawa, and that’s my baby out there.”

I look out the window, and my jaw hits the floor. My god… that can’t be a Lanzer… can it?

“Lanzer?! Pah! You insult me,” the gravel sounds flow out from next to me. “Lanzers are toys for children. They are afraid to use chargon to its full potential. Watch.”

The machine outside must have risen from the ground in a similar fashion to the jet, as I certainly never saw it there before. It was absolutely gigantic, over twice the size of any Lanzer I’ve ever seen. It was burnt orange yellow, and had metal wires stretching from her wrists and into the ground.

A voice suddenly comes out from somewhere in the room, and it belongs to Wolfgang. “Chagger Wasp W coming in. How are you guys?”

Another voice, this one from Philippe. “We’re already here, and so are the Tyflo.”

“Roger. Chagger W, injecting!”

Wolfgang flies directly at the crouching robot in front of him, and seems to have no intention of slowing down. Two small doors open up on the machine’s back, and the wasp machine suddenly stops on a dime and jams its head into the upper hole, and jams its “stinger” into the lower one. Liquid chargon sprays out the spaces in the imperfect docking as the wasp machine injects its fuel. Once the abdomen appears to be empty, it pops off and flies away without its head.

“3 reactors activated, ready to launch! Chagger Force is ready to go!”

I step back in shock as two giant wings flip out of its back, and dust erupts in a circle around the machine as the ground rumbles. Ishikawa raises his thin hand to the window, and whispers to himself, “My baby…”

The robot wrenches itself up, struggling against the wires holding it to the ground. The wings then split open, revealing liquid chargon webbing stretching between the wings and crackling like electricity. I can feel the air crackle with energy even from here. I don’t know if… whatever this thing is has muscles, but if it does, it’s clearly straining them with all it has, its arms shaking and twisting as it pulls for freedom. Is it… is it supposed to be doing this?

“Just watch…”

Suddenly, the metal wires holding it down pop and rip, the concrete holding it in crumbling and cracking. And a painful echo, it breaks free, its arms flexing as it rises to its full power. Words filled with strength and righteous anger fill my brain, almost making me cower in fear.

“Chagger Force is Free!!!”

Almost on queue, another horrible monster appears, some manner of naked mole rat creature standing almost as tall as Chagger Force erupts from the ground behind the wall surrounding the complex. It almost effortlessly steps over it and erupts a hideous, slimy scream from behind its massive foreteeth. What the absolute hell is THAT?!

“The tyflopontika. Horrible creatures, disgusting. Must be killed before they kill us,” Ishikawa attempts to explain, even though it’s all bouncing off the top of my skull and I stare at whatever is happening. Chagger Force erupts with an unbelievable explosion of speed at the monster, colliding with it and giving it a very clean German suplex. You’d think a fleshy beast with that much weight would collapse into a meaty mess, but instead it bounces into a skid, back on its feet immediately. Almost like a flash, the horrible monster leaps forward and clamps its massive incisors around Chagger Force’s torso.

“Crap! Newblood, if you can hear this, launch our blade! Quickly!”

I snap out of my stupor, and look around confused. What?

“The button with the picture of the axe on it!”

I quickly leap into action and begin looking around for some button with an axe on it. Where? Where’s the buttons? Wolfgang’s voice helpfully points me in the right direction.

“Row 3, about halfway down. Can’t miss it.”

Thanks, Wolfgang. I run my way down there, and slam my fist onto the button. After running back to the window, I arrive just in time to see another door open up, and a massive axe springs up just in grabbing distance of Chagger Force. With one smooth motion, the gigantic machine grabs the hilt, and swings the blade straight through the nude beast’s neck. With a disgusting spray of red, green, and purple blood, the monster’s body separates from its head and collapses to the ground, followed by its jaw going slack and its head separating from Chagger Force’s torso. And then with a strong force of conviction, the robot’s foot goes clear through the monster’s skull, splattering ichor in every direction. I struggle to hold in the contents of my stomach as I witness this display, and Dr. Ishikawa side-eyes me.

“Wimp.”

If that’s what’s waiting for me outside of these walls, then I’ll probably be safer in here.

Art by @menacing-marshmallow

[bardoftheshire]

Obsessed With You || Chapter III

Dano! Riddler x Cop! Reader

< Previous Chapter

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

You groan, lazily trying to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock but when you fail to do so, I get up and unplug it.

"Shit, I fell asleep doing my reports again." You look at your computer and notepad laying on your bed.

You'd just have to hope that your report is automatically saved so you won't have to rewrite it again.

You walk out of your room, into the small kitchen, and put on a pot of coffee. The apartment you were staying in was small and dirty, only a few lights and outlets worked and the sbathroom sink tap water was occasionally rusty. The porcelain bathtub in the restroom was broken most likely by previous tenants, leaving you with having to shower at the gym right across from the station. You had talked to the front about it yet they refuse to fix it.

You know how it is in Gotham.

'I don't have time to eat breakfast or shower today, it's fine they always have some sort of food over there, I can grab it before patrol.' You think to yourself, grabbing your keys and locking the door before you realize you forgot to put on your uniform. You were already late so this isn't helping. Shit.

You snap out of your complaining in your head once the coffee machine beeps, take a mug from your dish rack and grab an energy drink from your fridge, closing the door with a squeak.

You pour the coffee into the mug, the energy drink afterward, and take a big gulp of the piping-hot liquid.

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

After forgetting to grab your radio on the way out of the apartment, you park your unit, grab your computer and envelopes filled with finished case reports, shut your car door, and enter the depressing building.

"Officer L/n, you're late." A poison-laced voice coming from across the room speaks.

"I'm terribly sorry commander, I have no excuse other than waking late and forgetting my radio," I admit truthfully.

"Just don't be late next time officer L/n. Do you at least have those case reports I gave you done?" Gordon says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I do lieutenant, Gordon." You say, handing the envelopes to Gordon nervously.

"Y'know kid, you remind me of someone we had here. He worked in forensics, real genius, was quite skittish, and kept to himself, we unfortunately had to let him go due to... Uh, certain problems with him though. A real shame, you two would've gotten along real well." Gordon says as he takes a look at the manila envelopes.

You couldn't tell if what he had just told me was good or bad. 'Real genius..' You think to yourself as I recall his words, 'Quite skittish and kept to himself..' Maybe it's both considering what he said.

"...Hey L/n, were you out looking for that Riddler guy again. One of the guys told me that he saw you in an area that wasn't yours during your shift."

'Shit... What if they've been following me and what if they've found him?'

"Officer L/n, how about we talk about this in my office," Gordon says, walking me to his cluttered office and sitting down at his desk.

"U-uh, well yes... B-but I promise you, lieutenant I won't go looking for him again, It's just that.. I mean, well our guys working on his case aren't doing much and haven't made any progress at all, If I were still working on his case he would have already been found and locked up. I'm one of the best officers you have, you know that lieutenant! Shit, if I were to be a detective rather than working graveyard shifts as a cop do you know how many other cases I could solve?" You get flustered and frustrated as you say this.

All the other officers looked at you, whispering and snickering.

"L/n, I took you off of the case because it was making you mad and it was affecting you overall. You would spend even your days off looking for the bastard, for fucks sake Y/n you didn't sleep for days or even eat because of the bastard! And I wasn't going to risk losing one of my best officers because they got caught up looking for him. What if he found out how close you were getting to finding him and killed you?" Gordon shouted, a pained look in his eyes.

It always smelt of ink, black coffee, and paper in there. Not the smell that printer ink has when it has made a copy or document of something but the smell of ink that you use for those fountain pens, he was an old-fashioned kind of guy that didn't like using the modern stuff.

You could hear the humming of the fluorescent lights and the muffled sound of clacking keys from outside his closed office, but it had an odd sort of comfort with it.

He was right though. I mean, if Edward had figured out that you knew who he really was and that you even knew his residence, he could find and kill you. But also quite frankly, you could just tell Gordon who he really is right now if you had felt like it. 

"L/n, I'll give you back the case but you have to really promise that you'll try to take better care of yourself while working on this case okay? Don't try and sacrifice your own well-being to catch this lunatic, he's making a bad and very large impact on Gotham right now but he's really not worth it."

'Oh... Oh yes, he is...'

"Of course Gordon, I promise I'll try to find this bastard, but I will also promise to not lose too much sleep on this case too. I won't let you down." You say, grabbing the case file from his hand.

"I know you've got this L/N, you're one of the best officers we've got here at the GCPD, it'd be a shame to lose you."

'God, I'm insufferable...'

'Jeez, I hate that I'm lying to Gordon like this... He's a great lieutenant and he's genuinely concerned for me, and I'm here lying right to his face. He wouldn't have lost the commissioner if I would've just told him who Edward was.'

Who's side were you even on? Are you just as corrupted as Mitchell and Pete were? Your supposed to do my duty, yoy even swore to it, so why are you breaking the code?

You thank Gordon once more for giving back the case and walk outside to go back to your unit, opening the case file and reading over it for the millionth time since getting it.

You shake your thoughts away and turn on the unit, deciding to go to the little corner diner that Edward is always at.

'He kills corrupt cops you know.. What you're doing, covering up for him like this, thats you not doing your job and being just as bad as Savage.' You think to yourself. 'But I mean, if he kills me then he knows about me. Oh man, think about that. The Riddler himself knowing that much about me to know about that, that would mean he has to spy on me, see every move I make to really know. Wow...'

You can just already imagine him. Working in his notebook slumped over as usual, slice of pumpkin pie and cup of coffee in front of him as he sits in the same chair he's always at, stopping to think for a minute and then continuing.

God..

[blackvahana]

There's a potency in calling ANVD "my garden", a line of power and thought of a dreaming god draped back through time, to the time before time settled. Lev calling the place he was born/created/raised/condensed/spawned "the Garden of Eden" as a masked nickname. Calling the very first place-before-places this incarnation of the Universe a (the) Garden, his roles as a gardener, how he prunes plants as he feeds them, feeds his birds, feeds his fish, how a part of him will live forever in this house's yard by the pond...

I was told to shut up, essentially. It's still lingering in the mind how I was almost assassinated, and by my own sons... Everything built over millennia...

Black ink, cascading waterfalls of it. Spires that shift like intricate kinetic sculptures, observatories with glass floors, black water, strange reliefs of "eldritch gods" - reliefs of my own imagery. Ancient Void-speak languages, coding, vibrations. Stars turn clock hands with thin candlelit strings, blacks ooze into slate stone and night ocean colours, obsidian mirrors, halls of Mercurial ones...

told to shut up...

White ocean, filled with salt, which is in itself eyes as that is the Mother of them. Salt is the Mother liquid. Milk, isolation, distinction. Fishing nets and ropes, rainbow oilslicks on churned cream, sea suds, strange tiny invertebrates, messages in bottles, eyes forming the deepest chasms...

Mother (almost) killed (but what is a larger death than that of your child's innocence and childhood), mother brought to her knees. Watching the destruction unfold in the city...

Flowers. Crops. Wheat fields blessed by black-sky rains. The animal stench of petrichor, islands, the air thicker than a snowy winter morning. Realisation, sharpening. Muttering... Black plants, garden of pigments. Peacock footprints, crystalline stained-glass emanations tempered by Earth's hazy sine waves.

Revelatory peacock, messenger between worlds, isolation itself...

If I don't let go of what is unspoken, it will die with me. All this will die with me - it won't, oh, it won't, Black's tenacity and drive is outdone only by Machine God Zeus' - he'll keep on walking across the water knitting this place... Zeus - splitting, that's right, splitting things and the world in two, carver and enforcer of all boundaries, god of gates and walls and doorways...

But I have so much to say. I watch the complex tapestry-parts in my head and turn away when I see how they could fit into a larger whole. Tendrils - black - matrices - it's... all packaged into what I'm going to call legitimisers, "legitimisation" being the word Lev and I have started using as the term for the acceptance of something into reality based on acceptance of the "debate" for it to be real or not; "to legitimise" is to accept the data put forth by encoding consciousness into a readable packet, creating something. Legitimisers: Complex packages of the legitimisation data, sort of automatically-passed documents and laws based on how we know reality accepts and denies things, these legitimiser packages I have lined up in my head have next to no reason to not be accepted...

... unless I don't post them to Shakti for her to check, thus rendering everything I want to create unlegitimised. I've been reading over these damn documents for... a while... now...

Black ink, black waters. Cold night sky=water, therefore the water is the night sky. Sparkles of stars, whispering confusions. Contorted reality which siphons brain activity in certain directions controlling, ultimately, thought patterns and realisations. Gardens of thick growth itself, as thick with fertility as the genitals are pungent.

Tired, so tired.

There's a reason, maybe, probably, why one of the first mindspaces I had in visions regarding the Sky Fathers in my DNA was the Sky Hall, the throne in a sterile room, one wall open to the sky, tilting until I fell out. Grounded to earth and... whatever.

What I have to say is not monumental, it is quiet.

[shangnuomachine-blog]

Automatic Two Head Servo Filling Machine @changshashangnuomachinerycoltd Automatic Two Head Servo Filling Machine,complies with GMP standards for filling glass, plastic, or aluminum bottles.This machine is equipped with two filling heads, allowing it to fill two containers simultaneously, which improves productivity and efficiency.This two heads filling machine widely used for fill juice,edible oil liquid,detergent lotion,sauce etc.  #fillingmachine #juice #edibleoilliquid

[nichromepackaging]

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Why Nichrome?

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Nichrome’s VFFS machines arecapable of delivering an unmatched output speed of 6,000 milk pouches/hour. Nichrome’s compact VFFS liquid packaging machine range maintains perfect hygiene because the structure is either stainless steel or aluminium. Our product contact parts are maintenance-friendly and lubrication free. Accessories include:

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Nichrome’s Filpack Servo Universal, a VFFS dairy and milk packaging machine. It is a next generation versatile performer. It can pack milk, buttermilk, cream, and ghee at the rate of over 5,000 packs an hour.

Or for that matter, Nichrome’s Filpack Servo 12K. This has been acclaimed the fastest milk pouch packaging machine in the market by experts. This stellar performer from Nichrome, packs 200 ML, 500 ML, and 1,000 ML milk pouches at a speed of 12,000 packs an hour! Is this evidence enough to prove that Nichrome milk filling machines are the crown jewel of the dairy and milk packaging space?

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Nichrome’s milk filling machines come with many benefits for the liquid packaging. Reliability is the hallmark of these VFFS machines. Our milk filling machines are:

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Conclusion

If accuracy, speed, flexibility, energy efficiency, quantity range are your ask, give Nichrome the task! Our multiple pouch format, VFFS machines will leave you speechless. Give us a tinkle and we will get back to you with milk packaging solutions that match your requirements amazingly well.

[adinathinternationalindia]

Automatic Vial Filling and Rubber Stoppering Machine

Automatic Two Head Volumetric Liquid Vial Filling with Rubber Stoppering Machine, Model ALVF is suitable for Round Vials with maximum speed of 60 Vials per minute. The Machine can give Maximum speed of 100 Vials per minute depending on nature of Liquids, Vial Neck Size, Fill Volume and Rubber Stopper size. Machine construction in fully Stainless-Steel finish including machine frame structure. Machine with built-in Turn Tables at In-feed and Out-feed with individual drives to match the speed of incoming and outgoing vials for smoother operation. All parts coming in contact with Liquids and Rubber Stoppers are made from SS 316 Materials. Machine also available with vaccumetric type Rubber Stoppering System.

[machinefactory]

2 heads BIB bag filling machine semi automatic two nozzles liquid filler equipment for wine eidble oil juice syrup ketchup mayonaise big in box filler

[uni-artsssy]

Not Quite Dead, Not Quite Alive Pt.1

A/N: so this is my first fanfic. Um I don’t have many followers so idk if anyone’s actually gonna read it but to those who do I hope you enjoy. Also this is going to be an ongoing series too so part two will be coming. This story is actually inspired by a movie I saw a while ago called the Invisible.

Pairing: Avengers x f!Reader

Word count: 495 (this is pretty short)

Warning: Graphic Depictions of gore, blood, guns(idk I’m new) unattached body parts.

Part: 1 2 3

“Y/N THE DOOR IS CLOSING! WE NEED TO HURRY” Nat shouted over the sounds of automatic machine guns filling the outside air. She swiftly picked one up from the tar landing strip and aimed it to her left. Killing those who were on the roof of the building.

“GO! I’LL COVER YOU” You shout firing bullets to her right while running backwards behind Nat. Steve, Bucky, and Clint standing in the doorway of the ship to help pull Nat over the rising door.

You were close, so close. Bucky and Clint reaching their hands out to grab onto yours.

Just as you were feets away from being with the rest of the team, Feets away from going back to the tower and having dinner with everyone, an enemy that was hiding behind a black jeep just feets away from your left, a single bullet left the gun. Quickly closing the distance between your head and the gunman.

Everything looked as if it was moving in slow motion.

You had stopped running, instead you stumbled your last steps.

Sounds of your friends shouting your name muffled as they went in one ear and out the other.

And then….

*THUD*

You lie on the rocky surface of the landing strip. Your head had turned to the side as you fell, leveling your almost blurry vision with the field. Blood rapidly spills from your jaw and onto the ground.

...Your jaw...

As you mindlessly looked off into the distance, the thought of your jaw caused the pain that you were recently numb to, to take over your body starting with your head. In an attempt to let out a scream you came to realize you couldn’t feel the movement of your jaw. Letting out another blood curdling scream as your blood filled throat pushed out more of the thick liquid. Tears fall from your eyes as your vision clears for a quick second. Long enough for you to recognize the fleshy object sitting a good 2 feet away from you.

Your dismembered jaw. Blood covered the (S/C) flesh and stained the teeth to an orangey-red color. You’ve been hyperventilating, not being able to move though you were capable of doing the act you feared it would inflict more pain.

Winds from the quinjet blew your hair around as well as blew the small pebbles and dirt into your face. They were leaving you to die. Your friends. Your family. They didn’t stop the doors from closing. They didn’t jump out to help you. They just… left. As more and more tears fall from your eyes as you come closer to accepting your death. The last thing you could hear before finally closing your bloodshot eyes were the sounds of boots pounding against the tar. It sounded like an entire army. First the pounding was fast, then slowed down a bit before coming to a complete stop.

And so do you.

[hurting-fictional-people]

Sooo, I think this is turning into an actual story guys. I have ideas for where this can go and one of them needs names to work so... yeah they are becoming OCs... Whumpee, Caretaker and Whumper are getting names next part because I’m indecisive and need to think on it lol but for this one, since I’ve been giving them more thought and shape: they are all men and the pronouns are ‘he’ now, okay? 

CW: needle mention, medical setting, infected wound, restrained and collared, held hostage, lots of angst because this is what this whole thing is about in the end, isn’t it?

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot (please tell me if you want me to stop or start tagging you <3)

Continued from here

-

There was a time when Whumpee could move and not feel pain because of it. When it didn’t hurt to do so much as breathe. There was a time when time didn’t blend together in an endless daze of please help me, it hurts.

He knows exactly where the pain comes from, that spot a knife had gone inside of him… days before? Weeks? But by now, it has spread along his entire body, and it all just hurts so much.

If only he could press his hands against the wound, see if it looks as ugly as it feels. If only he could curl up and sob. If only his hands weren’t tied above his head and he could move at all, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

His fingers have gone cold and numb what feels like hours before. He shifts and squirms but it only makes his wound burst in pain and barely anything for his aching arms. After some time, the pain is in his legs as well and if only he could move, just for a moment, it would be so much better. 

His head hangs awkwardly to the side, unable to move more than a few inches, kept close to the wall by the metal collar around his neck. He can’t sleep with it, because each time he does, his head hangs and he wakes up suffocating. He can’t move, because it hurts. All he can do is hope Whumper doesn’t forget he’s here.

So Whumpee just stares at nothing, wondering if the pain will ever fade, and only when it gets truly unbearable does he allow himself to think of Caretaker.

He’s left him here to rot. As he did before, as Whumpee should’ve known he would. 

But this pain is a lot deeper than the stabbing could ever be, so Whumpee closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing through the molten lava seeping into his bloodstream.

Time passes, or maybe it doesn’t, and Whumpee can’t focus on anything for long enough to know anything but pain. 

It’s a strange combination, the desperate need to move his cramped arms, restless legs, but also the bone-deep weakness he feels, the certainty that even if he wasn’t chained to the wall, he wouldn’t have the strength to do more than curl up on the floor. 

It all comes back to murmured pleas for mercy that are never heard, until even his voice is raw and aching and he just goes back to leaning limply against the wall and relishing the few minutes he gets of sleep.

Eventually, his tiny cell fills with noise and his eyes flutter open to find Whumper towering over him.

He’s only half awake, the other half refuses to swim out of the deep waters of troubled sleep, but as if through a thick layer of glass, Whumpee manages to discern a few words.

“…infection,” someone says, somewhere distant. “Shit, get the doctor, I–“

He only truly wakes up when the chains are unlocked and he’s hauled up, the only thing keeping him standing the unforgiving hands gripping his arms. People keep speaking, but he’s so consumed by pain that all Whumpee can hear is his own desperate whimpers as they move his inert body. 

-

Whumper isn’t smiling when Caretaker enters his office, for once.

“Took you long enough. Do you have what I asked for?”

“What you bribed me for, you mean?” Caretaker bites back, clutching the drive filled with information his team never expected him to leak. “Let me see Whumpee first.”

“We had a bit of a situation while you were gone.” Whumper sighs, getting up and nodding toward the door for Caretaker to follow. Two security guards walk behind them, and Caretaker’s stomach churns when he sees the others standing at each corner they pass. If it was only two, he could take them down. Surrounded as he is, his only hope is to play the game long enough for Whumper to slip up first. “So, apparently having his wrists chained above him wasn’t particularly good for a nearly closed wound. It got infected.”

The world stops for a moment, pauses in horror. And yet it keeps moving, somehow – Caretaker’s legs keep driving him forward, even if his heart turns into stone in his chest, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing with fear.

“He’s fine, though,” Whumper continues as if his last words hadn’t frozen Caretaker inside out. “I’ll let you see him, as a treat, before you give me the drive, just because this was not supposed to happen.”

There are no words, no nothing as Caretaker keeps walking, the motion automatic, hammering heart the only sound he hears.

They enter the medical wing Whumpee had been in before he left, and stop in front of a white door. Whumper is frowning when he opens it, but Caretaker only has eyes for the tiny figure lying on the bed.

He was always so stunned by how big Whumpee looked, even though he was always a few centimeters shorter. Loud laughs, passionate ideas, all love and wildness that could never be contained – it all made him so much bigger than anyone else.

But under white sheets, a needle stuck to his vein, and beeping machines all around him, Whumpee looks so small. Vulnerable. Alone.

“See, still breathing,” Whumper huffs behind him.

“If I give you the drive, will you let me take him away?” The question is low, whispered not to wake Whumpee up. Or maybe not to reveal how tight his chest feels. 

“We’ll talk about it later. Just hand it over and I’ll even let you hang around for a while.”

It isn’t reassuring at all, but Caretaker doesn’t even look at Whumper as he hands him the device, eyes still locked on each shallow breath Whumpee takes.

“Don’t do anything stupid. The room is filled with cameras and my men will be waiting outside,” Whumper warns before leaving.

Caretaker is beside the bed before the door is even fully closed. 

His eyes travel down each centimeter of Whumpee’s body, head to toe, from the way his eyes move from side to side underneath his eyelids to the padded restraint around his right wrist to the slight bulge of new bandages covering his stab wound. The wound Caretaker is guilty of.

He sits at the very edge of the bed, leans closer. Whumpee’s hand is cold when Caretaker holds it, but his cheek is warm under his fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tracing his thumb along Whumpee’s jawline. “I’ll get you out of here, okay? And then I’ll never let anyone touch you again.”

He closes his eyes to keep the tears from falling as the words bubble up, escaping the dam Caretaker had built so long ago, through the cracks Whumpee created with each trustful smile, each careful touch and disarming gentleness. The cracks Caretaker did his best to close, thought he did for a while. And then he woke up to Whumpee tied behind his back and found out his heart had never stopped bleeding for him.

“It should’ve been me. It should’ve never been you. I was the one supposed to be hurt, not you. Never you. I am so sorry, Whumpee, so, so–“

A sharp intake of breath makes Caretaker’s words die in his throat.

He cracks his eyes open and freezes when he finds Whumpee’s green gaze locked on him.

They stare at each other, one instant that lasts one thousand, a million words Caretaker wishes to say but knows he won’t. And then Whumpee’s eyes wander around the room, aimlessly stopping here and there, going back to Caretaker, half-lidded and lost somewhere else.

“I ha– I hate it,” Whumpee mumbles, “that you’re still… in m-my dreams.”

Its low, weak, and Caretaker side-glances the bag filled with clear liquid dripping into Whumpee’s veins before looking back at him and smiling faintly. “I know. It’s okay. I deserve your hate.”

“No. Not you. I hate me.”

“What?”

Whumpee blinks slowly, so slowly opening back drug-addled eyes that strain to focus on Caretaker’s face, and leans his cheek against Caretaker’s palm. “I hate me… for still… still… caring.”

And just like that, the world stops in its tracks again. A sob gets caught between Caretaker’s teeth, and he just stares at Whumpee as either exhaustion or medication takes him away again, and his head lolls on the pillow.

When Whumper comes to pick him up hours later, Caretaker is still standing on the same spot, still holding Whumpee’s limp hand, still staring at the peace sleep brings to that beautiful face. The peace he hasn’t seen since Caretaker himself took from him.

He doesn’t complain when he’s told to leave the room. Caretaker simply squeezes that tiny hand that hides under his and obeys. 

They go back to Whumper’s office, and Caretaker strains to focus on now, here, not the man lying on a hospital bed one floor above.

“Good visit?” Whumper teases.

“I did my part. Now let us go.”

There’s a weight inside of Caretaker’s stomach, and it is tied to that sleeping figure, to that lost gaze that’ll never leave his mind.

“I have a new offer.”

He knew this was coming. Caretaker hoped it wasn’t but he knew it from the moment he looked at Whumper’s ambitious eyes.

“I want you to work for me.”

A humorless laugh escapes his lips, and Caretaker crosses his arms over his chest. “In your dreams. Now do your part and let me grab Whumpee and go.”

“Um no, I don’t think I will.”

“Why should I trust you when you haven’t been true to your word twice now?”

A snorted laugh, a raise of brows. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I have Whumpee. He isn’t in shape for traveling right now, y’know? I’m doing him a favor keeping him here, giving him top-of-the-line medical care. You should be thanking me.”

“What do you want now, Whumper?” Caretaker sighs. Exhaustion is curling around his very bones, helplessness snaking up his throat, and he is just so tired of this. Of being sad and scared and guilty, even if he deserves every single drop of it.

“Go back to your team and feed me relevant information, and I’ll keep making sure that nasty infection doesn’t hurt Whumpee anymore than it already has. Do as I say, and he stays alive. You know the drill, don’t you?”

Caretaker doesn’t have the willpower to do more than close his eyes and fall into a chair, waiting to hear the details of one more betrayal he has no way to avoid. 

-

It makes no sense, truly, but when Whumpee wakes up, he is surprised to find himself alone. There was no one in the cell with him, there’s no reason to expect someone to be with him in the hospital-like room, but a part of him expects a warm hand on his either way.

Pieces of dreams float around his mind, barren rooms with monsters waiting in the dark, a crimson puddle of his own blood, familiar and unknown faces blurring together. And the one that felt the most real, the one dream he holds close to his heart even if he doesn’t want to.

Caretaker’s face, worried eyes, gentle touches, soothing and painful all at once. Murmured words, tearful apologies. A dream he wishes was real, knows it isn’t.

Whumpee closes his eyes when tears blur his vision, and brushes his fingers along his jawline in a phantom touch he hasn’t felt in so long but wishes he had.

(next)

[ragingbookdragon]

Do You Believe In Life After Love? PT. 2

Arkhamverse!Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language and Angst

Author's Note: I have emerged victorious from my second round with the enemy known only as...The Cringe...it was a glorious battle and I FUCKIN' WON IT. Enjoy that I have now edited two previous stories to read better for y'all! -Thorne

Her cowl was discarded somewhere on the penthouse floor, but she couldn’t’ve been bothered to even care about it since most of Gotham either knew who she was now, or they strongly suggested they did. Even if they did know, they still treated her with the same respect as when she was unknown. She moved automatically to the bar as she unclipped the cape from her shoulders, letting it fall with a thud in a heap of leather as she poured herself a generous glass of bourbon. Setting it on the table, she undid her gauntlets, one coming off, and then the other.

She picked up the glass and walked around the bar towards the couch and coffee table. A flashing red light caught her eye and she looked over, seeing the landline blinking on the side table. As she swirled the amber liquor around in her glass, her fingers pressed the button on the answering machine. Her eyes turned to the heavily tinted windows, and she stared at the city below the penthouse as the machine spit out its usual tone.

“You have one new message, Friday, December 19th.” A sigh sounded through the line, followed by a soft and barely cheerful voice. “(Y/N)? It’s me, Dick…calling for…the seventh time this week.” He let out another sigh, and this time, his voice betrayed his feelings. “Look, I know it’s been hard on you since Bruce…died…but I really think it would be good for you if you got out of Gotham for a while, even if it was just coming over to Blüdhaven for a few weeks.” The line went silent, and after a moment, his voice picked up. “…I really miss you sis and I know that you’re suffering from the weight of keeping Gotham in check. Let Lucius carry it for a while and come spend Christmas with me…Look, I have to go to work now, but please think about it (Y/N). For me…and for Bruce and Alfred…they wouldn’t want you to keep all this up…so…just gimme a call back and we’ll plan something, okay? I love you sis…bye.”

The mention of her departed father and butler made her heart tighten so painfully in her chest that it seemed to stop her from breathing and (Y/N) looked down at her glass, seeing a diluted reflection she didn’t recognize staring back.

Lately, it seemed like every time she caught her reflection as Batgirl, she appeared less and less like she remembered, image darkening with every passing night she was out on the streets alone, fighting with no backup, with nobody in her ear telling her where enemies were or encouraging her for a job well done. She could tell that the woman who wore the cowl and the woman who was the cowl were starting to become one instead of two different people, much like her father appeared sometimes. And while it had been his thing when he was alive, it wasn’t her. She was somebody outside the cowl, but now? Now she didn’t know who was Batgirl and who was (Y/N) Wayne—and the divide between was only it was getting worse as it closed closer and closer to the line.

She finally remembered how to breathe and inhaled deeply, shoving it aside and looking back out the window. His image caught in her eye before she focused on the skyline, her voice firm as she said, “You know, I have to wonder…when you kill someone, do you ever get a little voice in your head that tells you it’s wrong…Arkham Knight?”

(Y/N) spun around, turning her attention to the man standing beside her coffee table, dressed in a suit that was armored similarly to his earlier one a few months back, though the colors were different, and he wore a dark jacket with white leather patches along the shoulders and arms. The helmet was different too, instead of mimicking the ears of her father’s cowl, his was simply rounded and crimson in color, though she bet that his visor input ran on the same tech her father’s did. Her eyes briefly fell to the red bat symbol painted across his chest, and for a moment, everything seemed to fade until the anger came back to her.

She clapped a hand to her chest, her voice cheerfully fake. “Oh, silly me, I forgot! You’re not going by Arkham Knight anymore! You’re going by ‘The Red Hood’!” Her voice lost the fakeness, replaced by a hard edge and she leaned back against the window, suppressing the urge to shiver from the chill, her eyes dark. “What do you want, Jason?”

He stood up straight, his head tipping upwards, and she couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew they were trained on her. “I wanted to see you.”

(Y/N) scoffed, a smile crossing her lips. “Well, you saw me. Now fuck off.”

Jason sighed. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh, so you mean you wanted to see how I was doing after you ruined mine and the lives of the people I cared about?” He said nothing, and she leaned over, finger running along the button of the answering machine. “You wanna see me, Jason? Well how about you listen to this?”

She hit play, and a message came through. “(Y/N) Wayne? This is Vicki Vale. I really would like to talk to you about what’s happened in the past few months, and with your dad—”

(Y/N) hit the next button, and another voice filled the room. “(Y/N), this is Jack Ryder. Listen, I know you’ve been hounded by reporters since it’s been revealed that your dad was Batman. I want to talk to you about—”

She hit stop, glowering back at him as she pointed to the machine. “Every. Day. Every day I get the same messages over and over and over again. (Y/N) Wayne are you Batgirl? We should talk about it! Your dad was Batman, so you must be Batgirl! How are you going to pay for all the damage and destruction your dad did all these years? How are you going to answer for what he’s done? How can we trust Wayne Enterprises anymore? What’s it like having to pick up the pieces of a broken life after your dad…after your dad…”

(Y/N) brought a hand to her face, covering her mouth. The tears ran down her cheeks, cascading over her hand, and she glared at Jason, her voice raw with emotion. “Everything that’s happened…is all your fault.”

He took a step towards her, shoulders squared as he placed a hand to his chest. “You can’t blame this all on me, (Y/N). Bruce was the one who activated the Knightfall Protocol—not me.”

Her lips wobbled as she countered hoarsely, “After Scarecrow revealed his identity because of events that you put into place.” She placed the glass on the table, spreading her arms. “So, have you gotten your revenge, Jason? Does it feel better to know that you succeeded in killing my dad? In killing Batman?”

He looked away and something wrathful inside (Y/N) snapped; she picked up the liquor glass and chucked it as hard as she could, missing him by an inch as it hit the wall. It shattered into a million shards as the amber liquid trickled down the wall, and her words came out enraged. “ANSWER ME DAMNIT!”

He met her eyes and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, hands flexing at his sides. “I didn’t mean for all this to happen,” he said, and she barked a laugh full of disbelief.

“What did you think was going to happen, Jason? Reveal who Batman was, kill my dad, and everything else was just gonna work out in the end?” She pointed to the street below. “I can’t walk ten feet out of this building without being hounded by press and reporters about everything.”

She shook her head, feet carrying her past him towards her bedroom. “You get off scot-free with anonymity and I get stuck cleaning up a giant shitstorm. Figures. You can find your way out.” She hadn’t made it a step past him when a hand shot out and curled around her bicep, pulling her back.

(Y/N) thrashed, trying to yank her arm away from his grip. “Let go of me!”

Jason’s grip tightened, and he grabbed her other arm. “No!” He leaned close to her, his voice firm. “We’re not leaving this alone anymore. We’ve been circling one another since that night, and I’m done playing games, (Y/N). We’re talking about this.”

She huffed in disbelief, staring at him. “There is nothing to talk about, Jason.” (Y/N) waved a hand between them. “What we had…it’s gone.”

“Are you sure it is? Because as much as you seem to hate me, you can’t stay away from me whenever we’re patrolling Gotham together.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Okay, firstly, I follow you to make sure you don’t kill innocent people. And secondly, I’m pretty damn sure what we had is gone. I think about punching you more than I do anything else.”

He hummed, staring down at her and she was starting to get the urge to right-hook him when that familiar smugness set in his gaze. The same smugness he used to pull with her a few years ago when they were together. A memory flashed of Robin and Batgirl arguing, her annoyed and him smug as hell.

“I don’t believe you,” he countered lightly.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you believe, Jason. The truth is we aren’t together anymore.” She started squirming again. “Now let go of me and get the hell out of my penthouse.”

He fell silent and simply stared at her before responding quietly, “Tell me you don’t love me or that you don’t need me anymore and I will.”

(Y/N) froze and her eyes went wide. “Excuse me?” Her voice was a whisper, as Jason released one of her arms, his gloved hand coming up to caress her cheek.

“You can tell me that we’re done all you want, (Y/N).” His hand left her cheek, rising to pull the jacket-hood from his head and yank the helmet off. He tossed it on the couch and Jason gazed at her, his teal eyes boring into hers. “But until I hear you tell me that you don’t love me anymore, I’m not moving from this spot.”

He held his head high, looking down at her. “So, tell me. Tell me you don’t love me anymore and I’ll go.” Jason searched her gaze. “I’ll go and I’ll never come back.”

(Y/N) stood there, the breath in her lungs frozen as they watched each other. After a moment, she lowered her head and murmured, “I don’t…I don’t…” She stopped, swallowing thickly, the tears that had swelled in her eyes threatening to run down her cheeks. “Oh, fuck it…I can’t do it.”

(Y/N) brought her hand up, covering her eyes even though the tears were already streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t tell you I don’t love you because…I still do love you.” She lowered her hand, gazing up at him. “And I never really stopped…no matter how furious I’ve been at you.” (Y/N) went slack against him, letting him wrap his arms around her. “Damn you, Jason Todd…damn you.”

His breath was hot against her ear as he chuckled lowly, tightening his grip. “I know.”

She pulled back a bit, looking at him teary eyed. “This doesn’t mean everything is okay now. I still want to beat the ever-living shit out of you.”

He huffed. “I know you do.”

Her voice turned watery. “I’m still pissed, and you’re still pissed and we’ve gotta work through that to get better.”

Jason nodded. “We will, (Y/N).” His hands cupped her cheeks, and he brushed his thumbs under her eyes, wiping the tears away. “I love you.”

(Y/N) nodded, burying her face in his chest. “I love you too.”

Do you believe in life after love?

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 1

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Summary: Alexys is a doctor living a life of exclusivity on Raxus, hoping to survive through a peaceful existence, concealing herself from those she believes would use her, or kill her. When fate intervenes and instigates a perilous journey she'd been desperately trying to avoid, Alex finds herself caught in the middle of two sides in both war and love.

Preface: Let me say, I am immensely nervous about this. After months of back and forth inside my mind, I’ve decided to go for it and begin the long process of moving my long running series to Tumblr, along with changing the name (something I’ve wanted to do for a long time). I hit a big emotional road block after over a year of writing and posting, so I’m hoping this move will eventually get me back into the swing. But for now, I’m looking forward to revisiting the beginning of this space love triangle.

If you’ve already read the saga, absolutely NO pressure to read again. Each chapter will be edited a little, but no major plot points will change. To any newcomers who find themselves interested, the story is already posted on AO3 if you are desperate to continue. Otherwise if you prefer reading on Tumblr, or simply like the forced breaks between chapters, I’ll be posting a new chapter every couple of days. I know it’s not written as reader insert, but I just couldn’t make the story work out in any other fashion. I poured a lot of love and heart into Alexys so I hope you’ll give her a chance.

Chapter 1 - Crash Landing

Words: 3.4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: descriptions of severe injury including blood and bone, medical procedures 

Read on AO3

~

I felt it before I heard it.

A booming crash of metal and glass, sending a shattering vibration through the walls and furniture around me. After the years of mostly silence I’d become accustomed to, the noise that came pummelling into my ears almost made me shriek in surprise. It was short lived, coming and going in a flicker so quick I had to wonder if it was real at all.

Lights began to flash, blinking rapidly in uneven time. The mixture of harsh beeps indicated something was faulting my electricity circuits, plunging me into the darkness of night over and over.

I could only question myself again at the plausibility of this being a dream, but the slow, increasing creak emanating from beyond the walls of this building brought me to a certainty.

Something had crashed outside.

Fear radiated through my limbs, leaving me stuck where I was standing for a few moments, before an uncontrollable urge of selflessness and honestly, curiosity, forced me to move and exit the safety of my clinic.

There wasn’t really a way to prepare for what I saw not metres away from my front entrance. A ship, an X-wing of some variety, was wrecked into itself, varying metals twisted and curled over each other, flames beginning to billow out from the creases. I could feel the heat of them rise as I cautiously stepped forward, taking in the scene with wide eyes. Only seconds had passed when I saw it – the movement of something – no, a person, demanding my attention. The pilot of this battered machine had been thrown just beyond the edge of its hull, broken transparisteel smattering the ground around them.

Hm, the Resistance should probably investigate their flight safety measures.

That thought quickly flittered away when the pilot moved again, this time with a painful moan echoing into the atmosphere. The switch inside quickly flipped, and an all too familiar feeling of conviction flooded through.

This is your cue Alexys.

I raced quickly to the pilot and knelt on the ground before them, fingers carefully removing the black and red helmet with both urgency and restraint as to not cause any more possible damage to their head or neck. The moan I'd heard just moments before let me know this person had some kind of airway, but it was pertinent I assess further. With the helmet gone I noticed the short, lightly waved black hair of a man, his eyes pulled closed, a few bruises and smudges of grey soot smattered over his face. His chest was moving, laboured breathing with the occasional heave on inhale.

At least he’s breathing.

“It’s alright,” I insisted. “I’m here to help you.”

There wasn’t any discernible response from the pilot other than a groan that withered away slowly, and that in itself was worrying. Kneeling over his body, I placed two fingers under the line of his jaw, halfway down, trying to feel for a pulse. I could sense the thump of blood under my fingertips, but it was too slow, too faint, too uneven.

Not great, but it was enough for now.

I began to scan over his body, knowing it was time to assess what was giving him reason to cry out in pain. There were severe burns on his left arm which had caused some of his flight suit to stick to the skin, with more scalds reaching down to his torso and abdomen. His right arm was almost definitely broken with the limb morphed into an irregular angle almost halfway along.

Without being able to look at them directly to ascertain whether I was going to be able to move him, I pressed on his hips gently, silently praying he hadn’t broken his pelvis. He muffled softly, but anyone who had actually shattered the bone would have screamed. As my eyes continued to scan down, it became obvious all too suddenly the shattered edge of his right femur bone poking out of the orange flight suit.

Kriff, this is not ideal.

I wanted to kick myself for not noticing it before, but there was no time, not with the very real possibility of him bleeding out in front of my eyes. My feet moved under me, racing back to the clinic room, knowing where the bandage and splint lay waiting, along with the anaesthetic injections I had stocked in the pharmacy cupboard.

He was certainly going to need them.

Within minutes I was back to the ground with the pilot, clicking together the injector handle and vial, piercing the needle straight into his thigh above the fracture site. I wouldn’t be able to wait for it to dull most of the pain, so internally, I braced myself for the scream I was about to elicit from this poor human's chest. The second I started to wrap the bandage around the splint, a piercing wail echoed through the air, almost causing me to hesitate. Still, my hands continued to haphazardly wrap the white material around his leg, pushing through the guilt it ignited. 

Suddenly, the noise stopped.

My eyes darted to his face as his head slumped over on its side. “Hey!” I shouted into his face as I scrambled back to the top end of his limp body. “Hey can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can hear me!”

There was no response.

I pinched at the muscle on his shoulder, harder and harder to elicit any kind of reaction. Nothing. My hand pulled into a closed fist and grinded against his sternum. “Come on, open those eyes if you can feel this!”

Still nothing.

Again I took check of his breathing, chest still rising and falling, yet shallow and with little power. His heartbeat had begun to race, but through my fingertips I could feel the strain in the muscle. Something was seriously wrong, even more so than his other injuries. Something internally. If I didn’t get him into the clinic, he was going to die.

In a snap decision, I chose to forgo an attempt to run back and locate the hover-stretcher. It would take too much time to set up and power on, time this man didn’t have. I would have to move him myself.

How the hell am I going to do this?

With my arms hooked and locked under his armpits I began to drag the pilots hefty body backwards towards the clinic behind me, thankfully only a few meters away, barely making it past the entryway when a roar of flames overtook the X-wing. I looked up to see the blaze almost completely engulfing the ship, a ferocious heat searing into my eyes and face. With even more urgency I heaved the body into the large clinic room, getting up and slamming the door just in time. Just before a house rattling explosion sent shockwaves into the atmosphere.

Lucky didn’t seem to be an appropriate feeling considering the situation I was in, but at least no one had died. Yet. With my last bit of brute strength, I hoisted the pilots limp body onto the closest hospital bed, noticing then the trail of red liquid I’d brought along with me.

Oh no no no.

With him still lifeless, I tugged at his body and limbs to lie flat on the bed, scurrying to my medical trolley and hauling it back to where the pilot laid, ragged breaths still thankfully escaping into the air. Snatching the heavy shears from the top drawer, I began to tear through the thick fabric of the flight suit, unclipping and removing as much of the life support vest and belt as I could. I had to be careful not to rip away the fabric that melted into the burns scattered all over his body, the number of them increasing as I peeled away the suit, starting from his legs, up to his abdomen and chest over to his upper arms. His torso was in full view now, a smattering of dark hair over his pectorals, underneath which showed the bruises of his crash’s impact.

Oh he’s definitely got some broken ribs.

As my gaze scanned over his skin, I could finally isolate where all that blood had escaped from. A deep penetrating wound just below the last rib on his left flank. As I registered his quick shallow breaths and the uneven rise in his chest, it became obvious.

Collapsed lung.

Whatever had pierced through his chest had poked an extremely damaging hole in his lung, the pleural space now filling with air, leaving no room for his lung to expand. My following movements were swift and calculated, almost automatic. A pointed scalpel was soon in my hand, poised to cut. But I couldn’t help but hesitate. It had been so long since I’d had to do this. And yet, somehow, concern for this stranger’s life was quick to weave it’s way through, dissolving my fear into pure resolve.

I made my incision in between the 4th and 5th ribs, using a clamp to push into the underlying tissue and past the pleural cavity, a gloved hand then entering to check I’d made it through. With an instinctive confidence, I guided the chest tube between the layers of tissue, undoing the ratchet of the clamp to an immediate rush of air. The pilot’s chest heaved in relief, along with my own.

One crisis averted.

But there was more to do. Connecting a drain to the tube, I haphazardly sutured it in place, before flying to the pharmacy cupboard. My stock of bacta was limited, returning with an already prepared vial into the pressurised injector, reminding myself I would need to use it sparingly if this stranger was going to make it through the full extend of his injuries. I had cursed at myself only a few times in the years past at being so far removed from a higher level medical centre that would be overflowing with bacta and medical droids that could help in exactly this kind of situation, but the thought had never burned me so badly. There was no way to know if I could keep this man alive with the resources that yesterday I had been more than comfortable with. I would just have to try.

I injected some of the bacta solution throughout the surrounding area of the wound and covered it with heavy dressing, knowing the bleeding would quickly be curbed. Unfortunately, the wound itself would take a few days to fully close, only ever being able to afford lower quality bacta. Before moving on to the burns, I placed some basic monitoring, lines extending from electrical dots over his chest, wrist and neck to the data monitor above the bed. As the numbers lit up on the holo screen, I felt myself breathe a small sigh of relief, having prepared for a much worse result. His heart rate was better, oxygen levels returning to normal, blood pressure not optimal by any means but high enough to sustain his life, for now.

After securing an oxygen filter over his battered face, I continued to inspect and clean as many of the small and more sizeable burns dotting his body. Even with the many I had uncovered, the one extending from his shoulder past his elbow was the one of most concern. Third degree and extremely unhappy looking. If I wasn’t quick to treat this, it could leak even more fluid from his already compromised circulatory system. I was thankful he still remained unconscious when I began to slowly shed the charred material melted into the skin layer. I couldn’t help but shudder as I remembered the initial scream this man had let out, knowing I would be hearing it now if not for his comatose state.

Covering the immense scald in as much salve as I could spare, I began to wrap it in protective antibacterial bandage, soon moving on to protect his many blisters and deeper burns with dressings. Glancing at the monitor screen, he was still stable, and swallowed hard. Now it was time to attempt possibly the most daunting part of this patient’s treatment.

His femur was still sticking through the tissue of his thigh, slightly dried dark red blood creating lightning strike looking lines extending from the wound.

I need to get some blood into him before moving this.

I quickly got to work on an IV cannula, his poor blood pressure making it significantly more difficult than it should have been. Two bags of O- blood were all I had, and a wave of dread coursed through me with the thought of that not being enough if this all went wrong. My fist squeezed the fast flow pump of the IV line, pushing fresh blood urgently into his system, making his blood pressure rise only slightly. With the last of the red liquid trickling through the line I wheeled over the portable X-Ray. It was so old the mechanical arm screeched at me as I positioned it into place over the pilot’s leg. The bone had to be at least somewhat in place before getting the bacta to work its magic or this guy might walk with two uneven legs for the rest of his life.

If he actually made it through the rest of his injuries, that is.

Shaking my arms out at my side, I sucked in a few deep breaths to build my stamina. Unfortunately, this stranger was stuck with a small framed female to attempt reducing his severe fracture. With one last inhale, I drew the courage to pull as hard as I could horizontally at the knee joint, digging my fingers into a vice grip around the limb and yanking it towards me. To my relief, the fractured edge of the femur to slipped back into the hole it was peeking out from, settling back under the skin.

Thank all the stars in the galaxy he’s not awake for this.

I quickly pressed the image button on the X-ray to assess the progress I’d made. The faint white lines of bone edges were stark enough on the grey background of the image. The fracture wasn’t reduced even nearly enough. I prepared myself again, with another deep breath I pulled hard. This time my efforts were forced into angling the lower portion of bone to try and lock it back into place. The grinding of bone edges could be felt through my fingers, pushing myself to pull even harder, creating more space between the fracture in the hope of giving a fighting chance of lining up the splintered edges. My muscles were whining, begging for this to be over, tears of exhaustion soon stinging at the edges of my eyes.

With one final twisting motion there was a sudden click.

Finally.

My relief was short lived.

It was slow at first, before racing faster. A stream of dark red blood pooling at the wound the broken bone had made.

Oh maker no.

Within moments the pace of the blood quickened. I shot my hands to the open flesh site, pressing down hard in an attempt to disturb the flow. The liquid quickly covered my gloved hands, already sure I’d sliced into the femoral artery. The pressure of my hands into the area made the blood spurt out onto my arms, my clothes, my face, everywhere. The monitor was screaming, blood pressure falling quickly. Wiping some of the hot coppery fluid away from my left eye, I slid my fingers back into the gash, moving desperately to stop the overflow before the man lying in front of me bled out, knowing it would all be my fault.  

You have to do it Alexys. He will die if you don’t.

The voice nagged at me, pleading to do what it wanted.

He’s with the Resistance! If he survives, if he contacts them, they’ll find me. And they’ll know.

It is time to decide. His life. Or yours.

Seconds ticked by fleetingly, numbers flashing on the monitor trickling down, the speed of blood flow from the pilot’s leg stubbornly keeping it’s intensity.

Everything I’d done to get here, to isolate myself so no one could find me. It would all amount to nothing. My easy, albeit lonely life, would be gone. All because of this stranger.

But I couldn’t let him die. Not like this.

In one flash, I removed my hands from inside the wound, ripping off my gloves and placing two palms at either side of the leg. With closed eyes, I willed the energy out of the depths of its slumber. From the darkened corner of my mind I pulled it back into existence, opening the gate I’d locked it inside for so long, letting it finally burst through and fill up my brain. From there it down through my neck, through my chest and down my arms, right to the end of my fingertips. Its warming glow was almost comforting, friendly. I would have basked in it for a while if not for the life that hung in the balance before me.

Through the pads of my fingerprints I pushed the stream outwards, connecting past the skin of this innocent human being, and felt the overwhelming heat of pain and dimming of energy.

Hurry, he’s dying.

I began to map out the tissue of his leg, frustratingly slowly, starting at the smallest of capillaries, weaving and winding through the flesh, connecting them through the maze of fat and muscle. I could feel the sweat forming on my forehead, my breathing forced and harsh. The vessels grew bigger as I pushed the energy through, skipping past broken points of other smaller injuries. I could fix them later.

Finally, I felt a molten warmth radiating close to where the maze had guided me. Racing to it, I sensed something pushing me back, the pressure of escaping fluid holding my efforts. I’d found the cut, but now I had to somehow knit it back together.

You’re taking too long.

The alarms of the monitor started to echo with a hollow ring inside my ear, fading until I could hear almost nothing. The world around me was blurry, only the image of vessel tissue and all-consuming redness visible in my minds eye. The energy I was expending began to burn me - I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. I reached out with it, what felt like many hands grasping desperately at the severed edge of the vessel, frantic yet delicate, pulling whatever tissue I could hold back into place.

Several fringes connected, the pressure pushing forcefully against me, making it harder to hold. I couldn’t help but begin to shake at the strain, the sound of my own heart pounding over the slowing heartbeat of the pilot. My grip was already beginning to fade before I started to sew the pieces of artery back together, an ache growing behind my eyes as I pierced an invisible needle through the tissue, over and over, still clawing at the unsewn edges as I made my way around the tube.

I was so close, the tension of the fluid still being driven out of the broken seal almost overcoming me. The unseen thread had almost made its way full circle. I was almost there.

My entire body rattled with exhaustion and pain. One final thread wove itself around the artery, its abrupt closure alleviating the strain on invisible fingers that had been clutching it all together.

You did it.

The energy dissipated quickly in a rolling wave, letting it retreat back into my mind, scampering to the secluded area of my brain, hidden once more. I felt light suddenly, dizzy, the world coming back into focus, screaming alarms growing louder. It was too much, all at once.

A sharp pang of fatigue enveloped every part of my senses and I faltered back, knees giving way, slumping to the floor.

Then, there was only darkness.

~

Next Chapter

Tag list: @tlcwrites @roanniom @foxilayde​ @blackberries45​ @hopeamarsu​ @caillea​ @princessxkenobi​ @direnightshade​ @mariesackler​ @leatherboundbirate​ @blowthatpieceofjunk​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​ @poedameronloverx​ @millenialcatlady​ @jynz-andtonic​ @lightsinthedistancee​ @star-killer-md​ @morby​ @modernpaw​ @cornmousequeen​ @paterson-blue​

Just let me know if you would like to be removed or added, no judgement!

[feliix]

Unresolved Tension | JJK

✦ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader ✦ Word count: 1.6k ✦ Rating: Mature

✦ Genre: SMUT!, pwp

✦ Warnings: Finger sucking, bondage, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, cum play, cum eating, masturbation, voyeurism, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, ruined orgasm, degradation, dirty talk, manhandling, rough sex, orgasm denial

✦ A/N: This is so unedited and a complete fucking disaster and its past 4am and I made the banner in 5 minutes but I deadass couldn’t do it any longer guys I’m so horny for dom!jock!jk I could scream. and thank you to @honeymoonjin​ for helping me come up with the title to this even though you didn’t know you did <3

“I’m tired, can we be done now?” You whined, plopping down onto the seat of the chest machine while Jungkook stood in front of you, chest heaving as he recovered from the circuit the two of you just finished. 

“Come on 2 more sets,” he said as he grabbed his water bottle off the bench to his right, twisting the cap off and pouring the liquid into his mouth. You couldn’t help but stare as he extended his neck, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Sweat glistened on his tanned skin, damp pieces of his dark hair stuck to his face from the perspiration.

He was enticing you without even knowing it. Working out with Jungkook was a bad idea – you knew that. He was way too distracting. How could you pay attention to what came next in your workout circuit as he stood beside you looking like that? It was impossible to focus on anything else but him. Dark clothes clung to his figure exposing every muscle of his toned stomach, and you stood close enough to make out every fine detail. 

“Maybe we should take a break,” You suggested, pushing your chest forward to gain his attention. It seemed that your tactics had worked as his eyes wandered down to the cleavage exposed by your sports bra. Rolling your head back to present more of yourself, you heard him force a hard breath past his lips – you were getting to him. 

“What makes you think you deserve a break?” Jungkook challenged, his now swollen arms crossing over his chest. Heat shot to your core, you couldn't stand looking at him like this much longer. In attempts to hold whatever shred of sanity you had left, you squeezed your thighs together trying your best to ease the growing ache between your legs. Unable to hide your actions from him, his tongue brushed against his bottom lip, fully conscious of your desire.

“Maybe if you just did what I said in the first place and focused on the exercise, you wouldn't be squeezing your thighs together like a little whore.” Jungkook paced over to the machine, towering over your figure as he uncrossed his arms, placing each of his hands on the bars adjacent to your head. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, eyes forcing their way to the ground to avoid eye contact with him. You swallowed thickly, tempted to just reach out in front of you, but you knew better. As he leaned down, closing the distance between your bodies, you lifted your eyes to meet his. The gap between you quickly vanished as you felt his hot breath on your lips, begging to be claimed by his own. 

One hand stabilized his body against the machine as the other grazed down the back of your neck, holding your gaze to his. So badly you wanted to lean forward and sweep your lips against his, but you couldn’t. With the position he had you in, there was no intention of giving up control.

His eyes narrowed as he broke his gaze with yours, standing up to search the left side of the room for something. He reached to the side, digging through a black crate and returning with a blue resistance band in each hand. Biting your lip in anticipation, you held your eyes on him watching his every move.  

Without a word spoken, he took one of your hands in his, extending your arm upwards and holding it up to the cold metal of the chest machine. He began to wrap the blue band around your wrist, tying it against the machine in a firm knot.

“Pull,” Was all Jungkook instructed. You jerked your wrist forward, testing the security of the band wrapped around your wrist to make sure it would hold up. He nodded in approval, reaching for your other hand to take the same measures. The arousal had fully taken over you, soaking through your thin panties and spandex and beginning to leak onto the bench under you. You struggled to find relief, thighs unable to squeeze together any harder to relieve the tension building in your core.

Just as your eyes were beginning to fall shut, you felt his calloused hands on each of your knees, prying your legs apart from relieving the ache. His eyes grazed your form, spread so open and wide for him. It was becoming hard to sit still, the desire racking at your nerves causing you to shift in your seat as your cunt began clenching around nothing at all. The sight of you writhing under his control made him feel so powerful, erection budding in the confines of his shorts.

Looping a finger under your waistband, he ripped your spandex and panties down your legs in one go, unable to wait or tease you any longer. His tongue grazed his lips as his eyes met your dripping core, dragging a finger down your slit to collect your essence.

“Suck,” he seethed, holding his finger up to your parting lips as you took his finger in your mouth, darting your tongue across the digit. It was becoming increasingly harder to keep your legs spread, unconsciously trying to find comfort as you watched the bulge form against his shorts. Your core was aching so badly for him, and he had barely even touched you yet.

In one swift movement, he pulled the garments down his lower half, erection springing to light as his clothing pooled around his ankles. Once more he reached forward, gathering more of your arousal to use to stroke his member. He threw his head back in bliss, lips parting to let out a soft moan before clenching his teeth together. Watching his hand grope his thick shaft was it for you, resting your head back against the seat in defeat. Your cunt throbbed in neglect, pleading to be filled with his hardened member.

“Jungkook please,” you begged, widening your legs further in hopes it would entice him forward, “please just fuck me now.” Words stammered past your lips unknowingly, thoughts too heavy with lust clouding your better judgment. 

“If you want to act like a whore that's how you’ll be treated,” He challenged, gripping his hands on each of your thighs and lining his tip up with your entrance. Whimpers drew past your lips, unable to hold your shaking body together as he wrapped your legs around his waist.

His member plunged into you fast and hard, bottoming out on the first stroke without giving you time to adjust. You caught your lip between your teeth, biting down hard to hold back a yelp. The elastic binding your wrists to the cold metal was beyond irritating, all you wanted was to reach out and run your hands across his toned abdomen, straight in your line of sight.  

He released a grunt as he withdrew his cock and thrusted into you again, just as fast and hard as last time. Your back arched off the seat, trying anything to get as close to him as possible. You felt like you could scream, so frustrated that you had nothing to hold onto while he was gripping your thighs so harshly. There would definitely be small bruises left behind from the pads of his fingers pushing deeply into your skin. 

His hands moved up to grip your hips, steadying your body so he could thrust into you rhythmically. Your core clenched tightly around his length each time he sunk into you, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter each time he pressed against your sweet spot. 

“Stop fucking moving slut,” He griped. You hadn’t even noticed you were bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts until he pushed you back onto the bench with an annoyed growl. The unconscious chase of your release was chomping at the bit. 

Sounds of his balls slapping hard against your ass filled the room as his pace quickened. The force of his thrusts wouldn’t cease as his grip on your waist tightened, forcing your body down harder on his cock. Moans flew past your lips as the band in your stomach threatened to snap with each movement of his hips.

“Jungkook I’m so close,” You whined, looking up at him past your eyelashes in hopes he would finish you off. The dark and focused look in his stare told you he was there too. His jaw clenched, eager to meet his release as he fucked deep into you.

“Hold it,” Jungkook commanded, earning an exhausted sigh from you. You were sure you had never wanted to cum so badly in your life. His hands moved to your thighs, squeezing your legs around his waist forcing your pussy to clench automatically. A wail escaped your lips, unable to hold back any longer, and he knew you were about to disobey his orders.

Just as the tension had reached its final breaking point, he removed his shaft from your core, leaving you completely empty and throbbing around nothing. Your jaw dropped in dismay, unable to form any words as his hands dropped your legs to the ground. Before you could figure out how to speak his hand was already wrapped around his cock, pumping it until white-hot spurts of cum were landing on your stomach. 

“Next time listen when I tell you not to come yet, slut,” Jungkook spoke, cock softening as he stood over the mess he made on your body.

‘Unresolved Tension’ is copyright 2020 @parksfilter, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

[silverrstarrr]

Sorry for such the big delay for chapter 2! Since this took some time, I made this chapter longer. As I said before: please be nice, this is my first fanfic. I would LOOOVEEE feedback or even tips to better my writing. I made a little playlist for you guys can listen to while reading. Please enjoy!

○Part lll- crumb

●Recently played- crumb

○Big sis- SALES

●Ghost-Machine girl(I'll put an ◇  when to play this song)

꒰ Nails ꒱ؘ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Chapter 2:

「6:30pm」

Horns honking left and right, men in suits exiting the train. Women sitting on benches holding their phones with their shoulder–typing away on a laptop. High school girls walking around in groups, giggling and smiling at one another. Obviously they were having a good conversations. Tourists and visitors checking out pastry displays, hands on their chins- undecided on what to get.'Tokyo sure is busy, huh.'  Y/n said to herself.

Y/n was currently strolling throughout the streets, glancing every now and then at food restaurants— trying to see what she was in the mood for.  Tapping her phone screen once again, she checked the time. In a thin helvetica font, the numbers "3:25" were written along with the words "pm" right next to it in a smaller font size. Dropping her hands down, her arms drooping right along- a sigh left her lips. She's been walking around for 15 minutes and still couldn't find what she wanted to eat. She stopped by a bakery, checking out what they had to offer, didn't really liked what she saw and left. Then went to a classic sushi restaurant— that also served Ramen. Once again, she turned her head and walked out of door. From there, she just began going back and forth through restaurants— which leads her to right now. She went deeper into the city, wandering further away from the school's location. To be honest, the whole mission even slipped her mind- she had a new job now: finding where the fuck to eat. Being really the indecisive person she was, this whole thing took another hour. Yeah...a whole HOUR.

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At last, the woman was finally making her to an empty table carrying a black tray, filled with her meal order. Placing her order on the beautiful round tan wooden table, she pulls out the chair tucked under—sitting herself down. Y/n glanced down at her food and honestly, it looked good as hell. Kinda reminded her of how those anime food gifs looked like that you search up on Google. What was her food choice? Well, it was Ramen:

I know, I know- early she said she wasn't in the mood for Ramen but shut up! People can change and y/n's appetite craving sure did.

Picking up the pair of wooden chopsticks with her right, slowly watching as the steam from the noodles rised up only to disappear within the air—y/n began to eat her meal. Grasping the thin long lines of unleavened wheat dough between her chopsticks, she silently blew on before placing them into her mouth. Using her left hand, she grabbed the chirirenge—dipping it into the bowl, scooping up a spoonful of the well seasoned broth. Y/n brought her left to her lips and slowly drunk the liquid. She continued eating, placing the tender mushrooms into her mouth, savoring the flavor. Taking more sips of the broth with her chirirenge, her right hand going to her bowl again to grab a piece of sliced meat then taking another chomp. She was enjoying this a little more than she should but so what? She deserved it. Still,  time was going by pretty fast actually and she still yet to remember her mission.

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Three hours have now passed since "3:25pm". Y/n was now finishing up her glass of water, as a waitress came to pick up the empty bowl along with the tray. Grabbing her phone, she made her way out of the door. It was now 6pm. It was less crowded now, but since it wasn't dark yet, people were still around checking out the city. It was the beginning of summer after all.

Y/n was now walking down the streets of Tokyo, before she head back—she wanted to stop by the convenience store to get a few things. Taking a sharp turn to the left, then pushing through a sea full of people— she made it to her destination. The convenience store. At this moment, y/n was ready to take in on her indulges of just buying snacks like crazy. She barley had enough time to eat a proper meal because of her crazy schedule, so she always just ate a quick snack to pass her hunger over to complete her mission.

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Placing her hand on the door's handle, pushing it forward and stepped into the store. She stood there in awe for a few seconds until a small smirk appeared on her lips, she was now in her snack buying heaven. Automatically going towards the back of the store, she grabs herself a few drinks. Next, she went to an aisle and grabbed a few packets of candy. Moving onto the next aisle, where all the chips, cookies, instant Ramen,(etc) were at—y/n just stood there. She had such a wide variety to choose from but first she grabbed a couple of her favorite cup Ramen and her cookies as well. Now, what type of chips did she want? When it came down to these, y/n always liked to look at the flavors and see if there were any new ones. And if they were? Well she'll try them. Shrugging her shoulder, she went up and grabbed a few of the ones she always ate then a few of the new flavors. It was now time to check out, she had enough snacks to last her a decent month or two. Carrying all of her items to the front counter, she casually dropped them as the cashier began scanning. Y/n stood there looking at the small monitor, watching as the numbers went up after every beep—she hoped that she'll be able to pay for everything.

The cashier placed all of her food items into white plastic bags and placed them on the counter.

"Your total is ¥2664.19." The worker said. ($25.19 in USD)

Immediately, she goes into her pocket and pulls out the cash needed to pay. She hands it to the cashier and grabs the white bags resting on the countertop. A 'Thank you' leaving the person's lips as y/n nodded her head and walked out the store. Now it was time to head back! Today was a victory. She got to wander around Tokyo, Eat a decent meal, and not to mention got snacks. Y/n smiled to herself and pulled out her phone. Since she had snacks, she was gonna shoot Megumi a message to see if he was willing to eat some with her. Maybe they could find a good sho–wait a minute. At this moment, she froze. Megumi? Letting out a gasp with a surprised expression, she came to realization.

"OH SHIT, I FORGOT ABOUT THE MISSION."

In less than a second, y/n was on her feet, dashing down the street. she was pretty fast, considering she was a Sorcerer and running was a common thing.

Unlocking her phone with her thumb, she went to her contacts and immediately called her partner.

"please, please, please... pick up." She said to herself. Even though she knew he was a Sorcerer and could handle himself, her gut told her something wasn't right and this threw her into a panic.

"The phone number you are trying to re-"

It was no use, he wasn't picking up. How would she know where he was?  He could be anywhere—they spilt up to look for the finger, to see if it was in a different location. So many thoughts were running through her head, she didn't even know where she was heading to. The only thing she could think of was her friend's safety.

She finally came down to a decision to first check the school. If he wasn't there, she wasn't sure what she'll do but she'll leave things up to future her. Making a sharp turn to the right, she went into an alley way. Jumping on top of trash can, y/n used this as little boost to pull herself up to a building's rooftop. Since she spent so much time doodling off, it was now dark. Which was a good thing—so people wouldn't see her leaping from building to building. It would be weird as hell if they did.

Going through hellish missions of fighting curses did pay off. She had agility and was able to pass over buildings with ease, swiftly taking a right turn—next a left as she went further down. Pushing her foot upwards off of the concrete roof, she leaped into the air, grabbing onto a branch from a tree. She then released her grip and landed on the sidewalk, proceeding to sprint towards the school.

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At last, she was at the school's gates. Instinctively, her eyes began examining the area. Checking the ground, she saw a few broken shards of glass, this must have meant something happened. Y/n looked up and her heart almost dropped into her stomach. There were multiple broken windows and she felt lingering curse energy oozing out from the school. Without wasting anymore time, the woman ran into the school. Busting through the doors, she swiftly headed to the staircase and started ascending the steps with speed.

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Seeing that there were nobody on each floor, her last step was the school's roof.

Making it to the last set of stairs, y/n prepared herself—she took into caution of a cursed being present. Gathering and focusing on her curse energy, she was ready to take on the curse at any moment. Steadily, she made her way up steps and pulled the roof's door open. To her surprise, it was nothing was she intended it to be.

On his knees, completely worn-out, covered in injuries head to toe, uniform in a mess, and the obvious bleeding from his head. She knew it, Megumi was hurt.

Immediately, dropping her plastic bags, she rushed over to him- completely ignoring her sensei. Lowering herself down to his level, and before she could speak- her friend did.

"I'm fine, no need to worry." He said with his eyes closed, looking away from her direction. He wasn't fine, he was holding his torso—blood was dripping down from his hand. Y/n blamed herself deeply, it was her fault that he was in such a state. Grabing his right arm, she slung it over her neck as it rested on her shoulder. She then slider her left arm around his waist to help him back on his feet. Megumi wanted to protest but he knew thay she wasn't planning on letting him go. Now they were both on their feet, she finally looked up and noticed a tall man with a stupid blindfold—Gojo Satoru, their teacher. She didn't only notice him but a shirtless boy hanging over his shoulder? He had pink hair with a black undercut, she swear she saw him before but couldn't put her finger on it.

"Aww! Y/n you missed it!" Gojo said with a pouty voice in attempt to sound like an innocent school girl.

"Miss what?" She responded.

"Nothing." Megumi spat out in an annoyed tone.

Gojo was opening his mouth to speak again but y/n cut off him.

"Who's that?" Y/n was looking at the boy who was knocked tf out on Gojo's shoulder. Her sensei only hummed in response, this irritated her because he didn't answer her question. Megumi noticed this and sighed,

"I'll explain later."

Y/n glared at her injured partner, not liking that the two were being secretive but megumi did say he'll tell her soon, that was enough. Both of them started walking towards the roof's door. Bending her knees down slightly, she leaned to the side and used her free to pick up her snacks. With this, she completely lets go of megumi as he fell onto the ground with a harsh slap. Before megumi could literally curse her out for dropping him after she offered to help him, she quickly picked him up bridal style. Fushiguro was silent. it wasn't that he accepted what she was doing but more like in shock and didn't have words.

Satoru just stood by with a dumbfounded look on his face and only was able to say "O-"

Y/n didn't really care, it was bothersome to carry him on her shoulder all the way down some stairs. As she said before, she's a Sorcerer.

Megumi looked up at her with an angry expression, it seemed like he was gonna pop a vain. She only smiled in response and simply said, "Hold on." And with that, she jumped off the school's roof, heading back to the dorms.