#Slitting Rewinders

[katetcake]

I think we all overlook the fact that Al heard Scar's speech about death and destruction for the death of his brother and said "fair, cuz same" a little too much

[slittingmachine]

[harfblarf]

The thing that fascinates me most about tumblr is that, if Staff hadn't managed to wring every ounce of trust and goodwill out of its userbase over the course of a decade+, if staff and tumblrs owners (and the tech sector in general) weren't so obsessively fixated on growth and meeting metrics and "industry standards" and a SINGLE person who knew how to QA a website was on board, this website could-- I am almost completely positive-- absolutely run on the "semi-retired MOBA/MMORPG" structure: relative skeleton crew, dedicated (relative) handful of major users willingly bearing the majority load of upkeep costs, minimal need for new users and a slow, minimal shed of existing users.

Of course, Yahoo bought "the new pdf" for a stupid, speculative amount of money, tumblr's staff has refined the art of painted-on cheer as the crowds bay for blood, and a number of stupid moves over the years have whittled away at the core userbase as well as their ability to make (and spend) money on this hellsite, and tumblr carries on full-speed towards the illusory oasis of "industry standards" and "line go up".

[gbtrade]

We are looking for a Slitting & Rewinding service provider company in th...

[ideasengineering]

Discover precision and efficiency with Koley Converting Machinery Pvt. Ltd. We specialize in BOPP slitting machines and offer advanced shaftless and shafted rewinding solutions, including turret rewinding systems.

[yuanhuapaper]

Tissue paper slitting rewinding machine | Tissue rewinder | Tissue paper parent roll slit cutting

big wide tissue parent roll cutting into smaller width jumbo roll. Thereby, the smaller jumbo roll can be used for making the folding napkin, paper towel,

[havesino]

https://www.havesinogrp.com/slitter-for-flexbile-packaging/

Are you looking for a slitter rewinder machine to help you with your business? Look no further! We have a wide range of slitter rewinder machines for sale at competitive prices. Our machines are designed to provide efficient and reliable performance, so you can be sure that your business will benefit from using them.

[charlesxavierthirster3000]

Loops and Steel — L.Howlett

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader

Summary: Your love for crocheting is apparent across the whole school, but a sense of reluctance clouds your vision at the thought of gift-giving towards Logan.

CW/Tags: fluff, kinda drags idk I'm sorry, REALLY stupid ending, not proofread I'm too lazy and it's sinus season, we have time manipulation powers guys, no use of Y/N, don't like don't read.

A/N: HELLO long time no fic guys (I'm going insane please help) this is honestly like so stupid idk why it's so FUCKING long hello???? Ik it's alr in the tags but the ending is like so extremely fucking stupid I'm humiliated....... Anyways guys try to enjoy this hahahaahhaha don't flame me pls

WC: 2.4K (holy SHIT girl) / Navigation

You had a thing amongst the X-Men— you were notorious for crocheting impromptu gifts for everyone, predominantly for winter use. No one in their right mind would voluntarily wear yarn in the summer, unless they had a thing for heat strokes. 

Well, to be fair, the craft store situated nearest to the mansion only sold the hefty type of yarn, so you physically couldn’t make anything light. But still.

Your hyperfixation on fibre arts had reached most of them— Scott with earmuffs which could be worn comfortably over his visor without disrupting the toggle, Storm and her suit-complimenting beanies, and Rogue who had received so many pairs of gloves she had to dedicate a whole drawer for them in her room. At this point, you'd woven your way through the whole mansion, pretty much everyone having received a small gift; the students with a 70% chance of having a simple keychain.

Everyone, except Logan.

It's not that you weren't fond of him—in fact, he was even up there with Rogue and the others— it's just.. he was always so reclusive. Yeah, you could hold a decently consistent conversation with him without breaking a sweat, but he seemed the type to brush gifts or tokens of appreciation off without a second thought. That’s what made you contemplate bestowing your handmade offerings of affection upon him.

If you wanted to say you were afraid of impending rejection, it wouldn’t be true. You’d handed some keychains to a few uptight kids you taught, and the sight of the metallic glint attached to a scrap of vibrant yarn in the rubbish didn’t affect you. Perhaps it was because they were only a clique of immature youngsters, but your ego wasn’t usually even touched that easily no matter the level of maturity.

So why were you so uncertain?

Inwardly, you somewhat knew that there was a chance— you craved his validation. Which was really, very pathetic. Your ego was not nearly as inflated as his, but acknowledging the info would undoubtedly have an effect on it, so you kept the classified data under lock and key. Well, maybe Charles knew. But even if he did, he fortunately kept your dignity intact.

Nevertheless, you’d gotten tipsy humiliatingly early in the night after spending quality time with Ororo and ended up stumbling back to your room, determined to overcome your inner wimp and make something for Logan. You brainstormed for approximately 7 minutes before coming with a conclusion; gloves. Just like the many pairs you'd created for his ‘friend’. 

‘I’m your friend, not your father,’ the idiot stated. Bullshit. Abso-fucking-lute bullshit. You heard them when passing by in the corridor on the way to a class and had to restrain using your powers to rewind that short burst of time just so you could shut Logan up and shove those words right back up his ass.

But unfortunately, you realised a little too much time later— after the alcohol-established period of boldness had subsided, of course— that you were still very much a pussy. Perhaps you were lost in the suppression of the alcohol, because you'd somehow already ended up with a pair of specialised gloves with slits, strong magnets fastened to the edges which accommodated the adamantium of Logan's claws.

If everything fell into accordance with your brainstorming, the magnets would automatically adjust to the position of the protruding metal under his skin every time he slid them on. Damn it, why weren't you this creative when you were sober? Maybe you should drink more. If only you had his healing factor; then your liver wouldn't be fucked for life.

You glanced up at the clock on your bedroom wall, bracing yourself for the ridiculously early time unavoidably displayed upon the aged face. 

10:21 p.m.

Fucking hell. Basically the whole goddamn mansion was still up, the younger kids an exception. It was a weekend, after all. 

After a short-lived interval of contemplation, you concluded two options. You had the option of using your energy and abandoning the project without physically undoing the whole thing; pretending it never happened, or B, actually fucking overcome your disconcerting fear of giving Logan a gift.

You'd deeply considered the first option.

Very. Deeply.

But in a self-ball-kicking resolution, you chucked your own uncertainty far, far down your throat and decided on simply marching over to Logan and handing him the navy pair of gloves.

⁠⊰⁠⊹ฺ

Mentally uttering repeated strings of curses, you approached his bedroom door— you figured that was where he was, anyway. He wasn't in his usual place; the grimy couch in front of the fireplace which was almost literally hanging on by a thread. 

Earlier, you'd taken a glimpse at the contents of the fridge in hopes of a tasty Swiss roll miraculously appearing, but instead noticed the fact that there was no beer. To conclude, Logan was probably restraining himself from impaling Scott and fermenting him into his own ‘Cyclops-made Heineken’.

Your hands fidgeted with the stitches on the openings for his claws, thumb running over the cool, metallic surface of the small magnets. God, why were you stressing this so hard? Logan was just a guy with kitty claws and a half-assed personality. He wasn't that intimidating, especially when dormant and presumably partially asleep by now. He was—literally— an old man at heart. The dude probably couldn't even stay up past 11:30.

Ultimately, you took a sharp breath before raising your free hand and firmly rapping at the door twice. Your ears picked up the faint rustle of a page turning and the brief thud of a book cover falling shut.

He was reading? Damn, guess your old man description was accurate after all. A shift of position, and the creak of a wooden chair groaning under his weight. “It's open.”

You skeptically twist the knob and push on the door, poking your head through the crack before stepping in and gently pushing it shut behind you. He's leant against his table in a semblance of leisure, gaze fixed on the metal of his dog tags as he wipes them with a thin tissue.

Your own gaze drifts to his tousled sheets, zeroing in on the faint outline of a bulky book poorly concealed by the covers. You have to curb the grin threatening to spread onto your face at the sight. He's embarrassed. 

Tragically, an unsuccessfully stifled sound somewhere between a snort, a giggle, and a spray bottle escapes your throat, “I didn't know you could read.”

The hands on his necklace halt as he looks up at you cautiously. “...What?”

You smile with feigned innocence, “I didn't know you read.”

He cocks an eyebrow, scoffing out a dry laugh. “That wasn't what ya said the first time. And I don't read.”

You suppress a snicker at his clearly veiled shame and nod over to the vague outline under his blanket. “What's that, then? Sure as hell isn't a woman.”

His eyes narrow in on you as he rises, sauntering over menacingly like he was in some type of slasher. Your smile only widens. You decide to just taunt him even more, even though it probably wasn't the greatest idea to do so to someone with metal claws. But even if you did get attacked, you could travel back and act as if it never happened.

He glares down at you, head tilted. You thought you glimpsed a twinge of humour behind the hazel, and it only adds fuel to the fire. “Whatcha readin’? Pride and Prejudice? Little Women? I presume it's a classic— y’know, considering your ag—”

An unprompted, somewhat restrained grin crawls onto his lips as he cuts you off, “Why’re you here, bub? ‘Cause 'm sure as hell you’re not here just to ask for a goddamn book review.”

Fuck. Gloves.

Heart abruptly starting to hammer in your chest, you nonchalantly shove a hand in your pocket and squeeze the coarse yet soft material of the acrylic yarn. You swallow thickly, fidgeting with a fuzzy you somehow already managed to get your fingers on, heat dragging down your ears and spreading across your face. Gosh, you probably look mortified right now.

You swear under your breath, fumbling the gloves out of your pocket. “Right—” you clear your throat, displaying them out in front of you like it was a grenade with the pin pulled. A flash of curiosity crosses his features; a cloud moving past the sun. Well, the other way round. If that was scientifically possible.

“I made these for you.” You toss them at him and he swiftly catches them mid-air, all while you stare at the fibre like you half expected each individual stitch to spontaneously combust. You unfortunately weren't Scott, so you couldn’t laser-eye the thing. “Figured freezing your fingers off might— uh—cramp your little ‘best there is at what I do’ thingy.”

He gives the intricate stitching a once-over, turning the solid navy gloves over in his hands. A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips and an eyebrow raises curiously as he regards the claw openings. “Made ‘em for me?” 

The rhetorical inquiry makes your eyes almost instinctively roll. “No. Made ‘em for fucking Magneto. Of course it's for you. Who the fuck else has claws?”

He slips one on and hoists an accusing eyebrow at you. “Don’t get ya panties in a twist, Time Bomb. Look like Pyro jus’ blew a fire in your face.”

You defensively fold your arms in front of your chest, trying your level best to ignore the itch to lift a certain finger situated between your index and ring. “Hey, you're not exactly a joyride to talk to, let alone give a gift.”

He scoffs, sliding the other glove on and flexing his fingers. “You tryna bend my bones? I can feel ‘em followin’ the magnets. Neat trick, though.” Unexpectedly, he pops his claws out with a snikt, prompting you to reflexively flinch and step back. “Jeez, Claws! Watch the face.”

He groans, “God, you're a diva.”

“What can I say? Sort of a package deal with the whole ‘Time-Waster’ schtick. You're way more of a diva than I am anyway,” you grin sarcastically bright.

There's a glimmer of amusement in the green-ness of his eyes, and you unfortunately find yourself reveling in it.

Turning on his heel, he clicks his tongue once and nods in a gesture for you to get on the bed. The action takes you aback by the unbridled directness of it, but you end up crawling up onto the cool covers regardless. “I was just here to give you those, y’know? I can leave if you want.”

He somewhat shakes his head as he settles on the chair opposite your position perched on the edge of the bed. “Stick around, ‘s not like I mind,” the words are delivered in his usual sardonic tone, but you detect an underlying sense of insistence.

Fuck. Was he laying the charm on real thick tonight, or were you just delusional?

You bite the inside of your cheek, scooching back and settling in a little more confidently. “Stick around?” you echo, teasing lilt in your tone despite how much his reassurance affects you. “Since when do you enjoy company? Or do you just wanna sit over there and brood while I talk my tongue off?”

He huffs, the noise more entertained than anything. “Don’t mind when it's yours. Quieter than anythin’ else anyway.”

The words hit you like a blow to the gut with how casual the delivery is— as if he was just making his usual comment on the tactics he could use to get rid of Scott. Inevitably, the warmth already lingering on your face strengthens as you find a response. 

“Quieter? High praise. I'm flattered, Howlett. And here I was under the impression that I’m ‘Most Likely to Talk Your Ear Off’ according to my old yearbook,” you laugh dryly, attempting to ease the nearly tangible tension hanging in the air between the two of you. 

That half-smirk makes its way back onto his lips as his gaze turns a touch more intent, “Ain't news to me. Still want ya to stay.”

Holy shit. Is he trying to cause you an agonisingly slow death? You were clearly trying to manage this whole interaction with sarcasm, but he wasn't letting any of it slide.

You swallow cautiously, throat suddenly a narrow pathway leading down to your rapidly flipping stomach. Hauling your legs up onto the bed and placing your weight back onto the headboard, you try to alleviate the voice in your head convincing you this was something further than platonic. “Wow. If I knew you were this sentimental I would've prepared a speech before I came in here. Gloves can't nearly be enough.”

He snorts, “Don't push it, bub.”

You raise your hands in feigned surrender, a grin spreading across your lips. “Okay, okay. Fine,” you mutter, brushing imaginary lint off your sleeve in a futile attempt to compose yourself. “How do you like the gloves anyway?”

He looks down at his hands in his lap like he'd just realised he was still wearing them. “Warm.”

You gawk at him incredulously. “Warm? C’mon, I deserve better than that, Log. I crocheted ‘em drunk. Practically risked my fingers. Y’know how I am under the influence— could’ve found a way to fucking impale myself with the hook or something.”

He grunts absentmindedly— gaze seemingly too focused on your face as if he was admiring you more than the gloves. But like him snapping out of a trance, his attention is almost immediately diverted back to the stitching when he processes your statement. “I'll be usin’ ‘em. Smart move for the claws. Don't have to destroy ya hard work when I pop ‘em out.”

Sighing dramatically, you lean back against the back of the bed with your arms splayed behind your head. Taking on your usual route, you taunt him in a flat tone, “Guess that's the highest form of Logan Howlett appreciation I'm gonna get tonight. Have I reached my quota? It's a shame; I'm such a thoughtful, empathetic, charisma—”

A low chuckle graces his reaction as he cuts you off, “God, really testin’ your luck tonight, aren't ya?”

You shrug, a giggle bubbling up your own throat— some of the emotion-filled tension lifting off the atmosphere as you get back to your usual banter, “What can I say? Maybe next time I'll make you a tophat— perhaps a red tailcoat to go with it, if I'm feeling real dedicated.”

He glances up at you skeptically, an eyebrow once again raised as he scrutinises your expression, “Oddly specific, Time Bomb. Ya know somethin’ I don't?”

You beam at him, observing the way it only enhances his skepticism. “Possibly. Somewhere in the far, far future, you're one of the greatest there are.”

Special credits to this song for making me push through the final stretch of this fucking fic 😭😭😭😭

[frenchkisstheabyss]

⛧ 𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙸𝙸 ⛧

⛧ Pairing: poly!slasher!minsung x chubby!fem!reader

⛧ Genre: slasher au/horror/angst/smut

⛧ Summary: It's Halloween 1996, you've just broken up with your toxic ex, and there's a killer on the loose. When you go to the local video store to find your next distraction, you run into your longtime crushes who have their hearts set on looking after you. But you must be careful. Not everyone's who they appear to be.

⛧ Word Count: 2.k-ish

⛧ Warnings: If you don't like horror turn back now. This isn't graphic by any means but there are horror elements! Slight sadomasichism, full blown yandere vibes, mentions of toxic ex, mention of dead body w/ tame description, shallow knife wound (you don't get stabbed. no worries), knife/blood play, a lil smut because there's kissing/fingering/nipple play, pet names (babe, baby) a threesome happens but is only referenced, slasherfucker reader, reader's kinda losing it

⛧ A/N: This is part 2 in a series. I linked the first part in the summary. Part 1 was dark and fluffy while this one is really dark and angsty. There's still romance but said romance is kinda psychotic. For the record, I'm in no way encouraging you to go out and have sex with two psychokillers. But if they're Minsung hot? I meaaaaan....

💀 <<< Rewind to Tape 1 or Keep Going to Tape 3 >>> 💀

Han laughs, bringing his arms around your waist, “Oh but sweetie, we’ve played your game. Don’t you wanna play ours now?”

Street Fighter is a game. Monopoly is a game. Minho forcing you to hold a knife to his throat in the middle of their kitchen? This is unlike any game you’ve ever played before. Against your better judgment, you throw caution to the wind and ask the million dollar question.

“And what are the rules to this game of yours?” 

Minho clicks his tongue, delighted at your morbid curiosity, “It’s simple really. If I can make my lips touch yours without the blade slitting my throat open I get a kiss.” 

“And if he doesn’t—” Han muses, “I’m down a roommate I suppose.” 

“Kiss or death, baby” Minho says, leaning into the tip of the blade so that it's agonizingly slow to witness. He stops when it pricks his skin, a scarlet drop of blood rising to the surface. Your fingers tremble around the handle of the knife, your body running ice cold at the realization that this is actually happening. 

“You’re both fucking psycho!” you shout, twisting free of them with reckless abandon. You stumble backward into the kitchen counter, the blade still in your hand. When you regain your footing you notice tiny droplets of blood decorating the white tile floor. You trace their source to the much larger cut in the side of Minho’s neck.

Han stares at you with a Milky Way galaxy of stars dancing behind his eyes, “So she does have it in her.” 

Time itself seems to come to a halt when you register what you’ve done. You hadn’t meant to do it but, accident or not, you did it. “Oh god, no, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. I…I…” you stutter, tossing the knife into the sink. Minho takes a deep breath, running his fingers across his wound as he approaches you. “It’s okay. I’ll live” he smirks, applying blood to his lips like some luxurious lipstick, “Now about that kiss.” 

Minho’s close enough to you that you can feel his shallow breaths against your face. His bottom lip brushes yours and your mouth falls open without hesitation. The voice of the girl you were before you came here whispers for you to run—leave this place and never come back—but it’s far too late for that. Minho locks you in a kiss, metallic and sweet, that makes you a stranger to yourself. 

It’s not you hungrily kissing Minho, blood staining his collar as he takes greedy handfuls of your plush body. It’s not your cheek that Han cups, tilting your head to the side to steal kisses and taste that last bit of blood on your tongue. Only…it is you and you’re loving every second of it. So much that when Han unbuttons your jeans, slipping a hand inside to tease your clit, you’ve already managed to soak through your panties.

“Aah, I knew it” he whispers, lightly stroking your entrance, “I told you she was the one. That she was special.” You moan into Minho’s mouth when Han’s fingers sink into you, your cries of pleasure echoing within his cheeks. “It’s true. You’re our special girl, aren’t you?” Minho hums, his thumb circling one of your nipples through your shirt. 

The praise goes to your head in the worst way, setting a once cold body ablaze with lust. Your walls contract with every mention of how special you are—of how long they’ve waited to have you here. Han’s never had his fingers this drenched before, his mind’s already running wild with thoughts of licking your juices from them once you come. The noises you make are so melodic, so splendid, that they'd burn them into their memories if they could.

Minho’s sharp eyes lock onto yours, fingers toiling away at the delicate hooks of your bra. “Can we keep you?” he asks like a demon masquerading as a child. Innocence with something darker lurking beneath, waiting to tear you to pieces. The answer comes easily, driven by your thirst to be devoured.

“Yes,” you moan, exhaling at the relief of being freed from your bra, “I’m yours.” Han licks up the side of your neck, softly nibbling at your earlobe as his fingers pick up speed.

“All ours,” he whispers, “Forever.” 

Grainy black and white dots dance across the TV screen, casting a white glow across the bed where you lay naked cuddled up beneath the blanket with Han’s childhood teddy bear. It’s 3AM and Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 4 ended an hour ago. Not that you were paying an ounce of attention to it. Your focus was placed entirely on being bent into a series of unholy positions by the two men you expect to see when you open your eyes. But when you finally do—limbs still tingling from your last orgasm—they’re nowhere to be found.

Yawning, you force yourself up in bed, squinting at the light from the TV. Holding your hand up to shield your eyes, you notice the dried up blood on your fingertips. The events of the night come back to you gradually like a fuzzy radio signal sorting itself out. Your mouth is saturated with that same metallic taste from before, the sweetness of it having long faded. Finding it too nauseating to tolerate, you retrieve your underwear from the floor and set out in search of something to wash the taste away.

Stepping out into the hallway you find yourself in near pitch black darkness. The only guiding light is the glow of a lamp from the bottom of the staircase at the opposite end of the hallway. “Minho!” you call out, taking slow cautious steps down the hall. You extend your arms out on both sides, feeling around for anything you might bump into. You hold your breath, listening for even the faintest sound of his voice but it never comes. Finally reaching the staircase, you grab onto the sides and make your way down.

You call out again, this time trying another name for good measure, “Han! Where are you guys?” It suddenly occurs to you that this is the moment in slasher movies where the girl wanders downstairs and gets sliced up by some masked psycho killer. You stop halfway down the stairs, glancing up at the darkness you left behind. “Fuck that” you huff, jogging the rest of the way down the stairs to find safety in the light.

Finally you’re back in familiar territory. To your right you spot the kitchen and your heart jumps at the thought of the Halloween candy left untouched on the table. But your tooth rotting dreams are derailed by the sound of whirling somewhere to your left. You turn to spot a heavy wooden door left slightly cracked. It’d look like any other door if not for the two deadbolts drilled into the frame. Off to the side sits a black garbage bag, the kind contractors use on construction jobs, and it’s stuffed full of…something.

Hearing the low chattering of voices, you drift towards the door whispering to yourself the whole time. “Why are you freaking out? Nothing’s wrong. They’re probably just taking out the trash. Don’t be so—” You choke on your own words as you stare down into the trash bag. It is full of trash. There’s pizza boxes, empty soda cans, and crumbled up chips bags all from last night.

And then there’s something else.

The tip of something red poking out from between the pizza boxes. You lean in closer and make out deep wrinkles carved in plastic. Pinching the end of it you pull it from the trash and you feel even more nauseous than before. It’s a mask. Not just any mask. The same mask your ex had on when you saw him at the video store. A chill runs down your spine, making you let out an unexpected squeak that brings all of the background conversation to a halt.

“Hello?” Han’s voice rings out, seemingly from beneath you. You crack the door a little more, peeking in to find another set of stairs leading down into the basement. “Everything okay up there?” Minho asks, his tone oddly suspicious of you. You clear your throat, tucking the mask back into the trash bag, “I’m—I’m fine. Just got a little snack craving is all. Are you guys good?”

You’re met with silence reminiscent of the moment before Minho forced you to cut his throat. “Why don’t you come down?” Han insists, bubbling with joy, “We have a surprise for you!” You pull the door open all the way, shuddering at the creaking sound the old wooden stairs make when you step on them.

“A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

“One you weren’t supposed to see yet” Minho pouts, “But you’re here now so whatever.”

Minho’s adorable tendency to whine gives you the sense of normalcy you needed to get you to the bottom of the stairs. But when you reach it you wish you hadn’t. The basement is nothing like the welcoming warmth of the rest of the house. It’s pristine and white, the polished floor icy against your bare feet. In each corner there’s a large cabinet stocked with all sorts of medical supplies. It reminds you of an operating room in one of those medical dramas.

It is an operating room and at the center of it, in a pool of blood that leaks between the cracks in the tiles, is the partially dismembered body of your ex boyfriend. “Hi, baby” Han waves with the hand not currently holding a cordless saw. Still in his underwear, he’s dressed in a long black apron with the gloves to match. Minho’s dressed the same and both are slick with blood.

Before you can think better of it, you’re screaming at the top of your lungs and bolting back up the stairs. All the while images of torn flesh and fractured bone flash in your mind. You couldn’t stand that man, hated him in fact, but you’d never wanted to see him in pieces.

Spotting your purse by the front door, you make a mad dash for it clueless to the two figures gathering behind you. Your vision clouded with tears, you fight with the front door locks to get out. “I knew it was too soon” Minho sighs in disappointment, “We should’ve waited.” Han slips his gloves off, coming over to kiss you on the cheek.

Your body recoils, shaking in fear, “Don’t hurt me. Please.”

“Hurt you?” he scoffs, flipping the lock open, “I’d never hurt you. You just seemed like you needed a little help.”

Minho flops down in a chair near the door, messy hair falling in his face, “Take my jacket at least. It’s cold out.”

Their calmness is odd to say the least, making you reevaluate the fear that you feel. “You’re letting me go? Just like that?” Han plucks a wool trench coat from its hook, draping it over your shoulders. He pulls the door open and a slight autumn breeze blows through the door. “I told you. We don’t want to hurt you. We’re here to protect you...and maybe teach you how to protect yourself.”

His sincerity makes you uncomfortable and you feel yourself splitting in two again. This time the old you wins and throw yourself out into the night, scanning the street to find where you parked your car. The block is as dark as the upstairs hall, giving you the sense that you’re on some terrifying island all your own.

You can't make sense of why they’d let you go. Any normal person would drive straight from here to the police station. You know their faces. Their names. Where they work. Where they live. Do they want to get caught?

“You can’t run from who you are forever, pretty girl!” you hear Minho taunting. You look back to see them watching you from the doorway, smiling lovingly in your direction.

Minho winks at you, blowing you a kiss, “See you real soon, babe.” 

[magpiepills]

The Run

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Santi García x f reader

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: quick lil threesome with your hot roomies.

Warnings: PIV, oral (f receiving), fucklicking, creampies, FWBs, men kissing, reader can run,

A word from the author: another repost! I wrote this for my little dumplin @legendary-pink-dot a long time ago. I love you, my little honey bunch.

Fresh and dressed, you went to say goodnight, but Frankie beckoned you to join them. It was a movie you’d been wanting to see, and Santi was already rewinding to the beginning. It didn’t take much for them to convince you, so you squeezed between them in the middle seat, the only seat left. You watched in silence for a few minutes, and were already engrossed. It was no wonder you missed the look that passed between the two men.

You barely noticed as they shifted slightly, after all, you were in the middle and they were both big, broad men. You were good friends, and generous with physical affection. Frankie moved first, sinking lower in the cushion and spreading his knees wide. He pulled your leg over his and rubbed your knee. He’s done it plenty of times before. Santiago adjusted his position, turning his body towards yours and draping one arm behind you along the back of the couch, leaning close to point out a small detail about the scene that was on. His voice was low and his lips brushed your ear when he spoke, you felt his eyes on you, searching your face for a sign that you might be on to him. You were comfortably oblivious, wrapped up in the plot and the sensation of Frankie’s big hands smoothing their way just a tiny bit further up your thigh than was strictly necessary.

During a lull in dialogue, Santi leaned in again, this time placing a heavy hand on the thigh closest to him, giving it a squeeze that made you suddenly, acutely aware of your position, how snugly situated you were between Frankie and Santi, how neither of them were watching the movie, how their hands worked in tandem, easing you into a state of relaxed arousal before you even realized it.

Santiago’s words in your ear became his lips on your neck, and Frankie’s hand on your hip, rubbing tender circles into the newly exposed skin there while he eased your leg further into his lap and against his now turgid member. In a matter of moments the movie was forgotten and there were six hands rubbing, groping, squeezing and tugging at fabric until all three of you were naked and you were spread across Santi’s lap, knees hooked over his, while Frankie was on his knees between your legs doing what Frankie does best.

“Tell me how she tastes, Fish,” Pope sounded a bit jealous. Frankie was generous, though and after a few moments, Frankie leaned up to give Santi a taste, pressing his plump lumps to his best friend’s waiting mouth. Santi’s cock grew even harder behind you and he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please, querida, can I fuck you now?”

“Yes, Santi, please. Need you.”

You were already so close to your climax under Frankie’s expert tongue. He had looped a circuit from your entrance to your clit, through your folds and back again, using the kind of practiced precision that could have had you trembling in minutes flat if he had wanted it.

Frankie licked a broad stripe up your slit before stopping to help guide Santiago’s thick head into your needy pussy, rubbing your clit with his thumb and showering you and his friend with praise as he watched from just inches away.

“Taking his cock so good, sweetheart. That’s it. You’re so wet, look at you dripping for us. Your pussy was made for us, wasn’t it?”

Santi’s hands were on your hips, holding you carefully so he could work his thick length into you slowly. You had one hand tangled in Santiago’s thick curls, and one on his muscular thigh, digging your nails in just enough to leave faint crescent moons, a souvenir for tomorrow.

“Fuck, you look so good.” Frankie resumed his lascivious pattern, with the added effect of the vibration he made as he moaned into your pussy and a wet tongue over the base of his best friend's cock right where he entered you.

Santi squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his head back against the cushions, overwhelmed with the tight squeeze of your cunt and the velvet of Frankie’s tongue. He breathed deeply, trying to relax and not come too soon, a fucking monumental task.

He palmed your tits, with one hand now, and set a steady rhythm with his thrusts, determined to feel you come first.

You were in a state of bliss, all of your nerve endings firing at once, unable to form coherent sentences or even thoughts. You heard yourself moaning their names, but it was more of a reflex than a choice as you barreled toward your climax. Both men noticed how close you were and while Santi drove as deep into you as he could, he rasped encouragement and flattery into your neck.

“That's it, feel your pussy squeezing me so tight, so good for us, come on my cock. Let me feel it, please. I gotta feel you coming for me.” He called to Frankie, “Francisco, she’s close. Finish her. Make her come, Frankie.” He sounded wrecked. He pleaded for your release as if it was his own.

Frankie was achingly hard, having denied his own pleasure to give you and Pope yours. He doubled his efforts, now, sucking your clit between his lips and swirling his tongue around the swollen bud, humming against it, sending the vibration straight through you.

It was a tidal wave. Your orgasm spread out from your core and reverberated through your whole body. Santi wasn’t far behind, spilling into you, with a shout. Frankie watched, mesmerized and wracked with lust. He gave you and Santi a moment to float back down from your orgasms, then joined you on the couch, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips and mustache. It was so erotic to have them both like this, feeling them, hearing them, seeing them, even smelling them right now was enough to give you a second wind.

You realized suddenly how painfully hard Frankie must be, and you reached to gently stroke his gigantic cock. He really did have a beautiful cock.

“Frankie, let me take care of you.”

You were tender with him, he loved when you took control, letting him shut off the part of his brain that made decisions. While you moved to straddle Frankie, Santi went after towels and water. He returned a few moments later, unable to keep his hands off of either of you. He kneeled next to his friend and murmured to you in Spanish that only Frankie understood, earning him hungry looks.

He kissed your neck, stroked your back, and gently urged you to take Frankie’s cock. “Look how he needs to feel you. Let him feel how tight you are. You can take him. Let him make you feel good.” His voice was a potion. You leaned into Frankie’s wet kiss, feeling and tasting yourself on the soft bristle of his mustache while his wide hands were busy lifting and squeezing your breasts, wordlessly expressing his desperate need for relief.

You lifted your hips enough for Santi to reach between your legs. He squeezed your thigh, kissing your shoulder with reverence and affection before grasping Frankie’s generous cock, giving it two delicate strokes before lining him up at your entrance. It was a group effort to work your cum soaked channel slowly down until he was fully seated inside you. You’d never felt filled so completely.

Santiago was well endowed, but Frankie exceeded him in length and girth just enough to make you feel full in ways you’d never felt before. It was glorious. Frankie’s lips fell open in a silent cry, doing all he could to resist fucking up into you, chasing his release, seeing you above him, feeling you all around him, looking into his best friend’s eyes as he spoke to him sweetly in their shared language, he wanted to move

“Cariño, please. Please, you've got to move. Please.” You didn’t expect him to be begging so soon. You set a slow pace, bouncing just a little on his cock, as if in slow motion. Frankie exhaled hard through his nose and you moved a little faster, slid further up his shaft with every lift. He furrowed his brow in concentration, and you moved faster, moaned louder, called his name

“Frankie! Oh, fuck, Frankie. So big, baby.”

You rolled your hips hard against the coarse hair above his cock, building yourself back up again just so Frankie could tip you over the edge once more. You pushed each other toward your orgasms, focusing on each other’s pleasure. You needed him to come inside you, and nothing made Frankie come like seeing you flushed and panting on his cock. He was close, he pulled you against his chest, holding you tight in his strong arms, groaning into your tits, finding your stiff nipple to suck and roll between his lips, letting one hand slide down your ass to press you down harder. That’s all it took. The wave crashed against you once more, making your hips jerk, setting off a chain reaction that sent Frankie over the edge of his own orgasm.

“Fuck. Ohh fuck…”

He thrust up as far as he could and filled you with his thick white release, commingling it with Santi’s spend, a feeling you never expected to feel, let alone treasure like this.

In the quiet moments following the threesome that you had not expected on a Tuesday night, the three of you settled back into companionable chatter, passing water bottles and snuggling happily on the couch like you hadn’t just acted out a pornographic scene. Showers were taken (and re-taken) and goodnight hugs and kisses given. Santi, Frankie, and you all retired to your own rooms, but before sleep could envelop you, you heard your door creak and felt your mattress dip behind you.

“Scoot over, cariño. I want to sleep with you tonight.”

You gave him one last sleepy kiss. “Goodnight, Frankie.”

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Chapter One of 🔦Rewind AU:

It's cloudy that day when you come in. The wind is chilled, nipping at your cheeks and ruffling your hair. Everything smells like rain and damp earth; the sidewalk lies cracked and broken in some places, slick with dead clumps of leaf litter; the buildings aren't much, most of them old, weathered, and chipped. But you aren't here for those places. You're here, coming up to the entrance of your job, an old thrift store/discount bargain mart for electronics, games, tech, and more: ReelTheatre.

Greeting you is your co-worker, someone who for all their chatter is quite nice. Their car is packed in front of the store, the old yellow thing holding large, dusty boxes. The moment they spot you, they light up, waving excitedly and planting their hands on their hips. "Reader, hey, buddy! Where ya been? Got some old stuff to sort through today! Wanna help me carry it in?"

You snort lightly, but walk over to them, stuffing your cold hands in your pockets for a moment. "Yeah, sure thing... It's a bit cold today, eh?" You squint your eyes at the sky overhead, sniffing lightly. "Rain will probably be here tonight." Your co-worker grins widely at you, laughing.

"Well, yeah! Wasn't hard that to guess, kiddo!" They laugh again, their small cackle, then start to open their car's trunk, tugging out some bags. They tilt their head towards the car, and you open the side door. You're quick to heave out the heavier box first, hefting it up, then stagger back to the front of the store. Your co-worker, who'd already entered and dropped off their bags, opens the door for you. "After you, my dear~!" they snicker, causing you to snort as you wander in. You're quick to set the box down on the counter closest to you, panting a little from weight. What the heck was in this, bricks?

"Thanks for donating some of your old tapes, Reader. Hopefully they'll be more interesting than the old country CDs," they say, and go out to drag in the other box. "See ya in a minute! Don't miss me~!" And then you're on your own, left to sort through the store's new stock.

The bags are filled mostly with old CDs and discount DVDs, with the occasional cassette tape or odd video game. That leaves you to sort through them, finding the ones in near-perfect condition, which your boss will probably set in the newer section, and setting apart the scratched ones or visibly used ones, probably to be sold rather cheaply. A few items might make it to the protected case, but otherwise, the rest can be given a price sticker and shoved into their shelf or basket, ready to be someone else's. Your co-worker takes them off your hands soon after, mumbling to themself about where they put the stickers, leaving you to handle the box that nearly popped your back.

It doesn't seem very special, looking at its outside appearance. Some stained, yellowed corners, a few torn holes in the side, and some weird name written in marker on the top flap... You take out an box cutter, slitting through the aged tape, and cough a little at the sudden inhale of dust. But it's open-

And lying in the box, shiny and smelling of plastic, are VHS tapes. There's old marker titles drawn on the fronts, and looking throughly between all the tapes, their tape reels seem to be working, not a single film out of place or plastic piece broken. You let out a short hum, lifting up one of the labeled rectangles-

"Oooo! I can't believe you have all of these!"

"AH!" You jump at the sudden voice of your co-worker, who must have snuck up to the front while you were caught up in sorting through the tapes. They snicker a little, but subside. They curiously look through the box themself, making a pleased noise.

"I didn't know you were such a fan!" your co-worker excitedly cheers when they finish, soon plucking the tape from your hands and hurrying over to the old TV along the wall.

"Of... what? Old tapes?"

"No! The X-Men, duh! You have all of their tapes!" They stick their tongue out as they work, tapping away at the tape player, soon letting out a small "yes!" as they manage to open it up, quickly popping the tape in, and pressing the play button.

You pause, squinting at them, then at the TV, which crackles with static. "Huh... I don't... remember... having those..." A puzzled feeling washes over you, but it's soon swamped by your co-worker's gasp.

"You don't remember the X-Men?! Well, that won't do at all!" They hold a hand to their chest, dramatically gasping. "I can't let this stand! You are watching this! Trust me, it'll be great for you, you'll see~!" They laugh, moving out from behind the counter and heading towards the back. "I'll check on you in a bit!" And then they're gone, disappearing into the record section, humming a small tune as they go...

Leaving you up here, with nothing to do but restock the shelves and listen to the old tape play in the background...

Filing the movies and CDs and games away feels good, calming a part of your mind that likes order, making you feel just a bit less tired. It's satisfying in a way, knowing everything is in alphabetical order or grouped in its genre, clustered neat and tight together, not a case out of place. A small, tired grin peeks at the corners of your mouth, your shoulders relaxing just a fraction from their usual stiffness. The TV crackles lightly behind you, the voices fuzzy and the colors comforting. You're turning around, done with your task, when you hear something... off...

Silence.

Pure... still... silence.

You look up at the TV, feeling yourself freeze up.

Because the screen seems still, and the X-Men are all frozen. But it's not a normal pause, no. They are staring straight at the screen. And it feels almost like they're staring at... you...

"Reader! A little help over here, please!" calls your co-worker from deep in the store, sending you scurrying over to them, just in time to stop a heavy wooden record player from falling on top of them. "Th.. thanks, kiddo... phew... that... was so heavy... who the H*ll put a record player on the top shelf, huh, kit-cat?" they snort, making you crack a rare chuckle. They grin, then wander with you back to the front. You glance back over at the TV, which seems to be back to normal... but you still feel... watched...

"Hey... uh... did... did you notice anything... odd, with the TV?" you inquire, scratching lightly at your hand. The fingerless gloves tug slightly with the motion, but stay in place.

"Something odd, huh? Nope. Why?" they respond, looking over at you. Their eyes are warm, no sign of judgment or teasing. You shrink a little under their gaze, eyes shifting away to stare at the floor.

"Eh... nothing... I think the screen just paused for a minute..."

"Oh! You're probably not used to the TV then! What, never let a tape play while working?" At the shake of your head, they gasp, just as dramatic as before. "Well, that won't do at all! No wonder you're so grouchy all the time! You've never enjoyed the wonders of... animation!" You let out a small snort at that. "That's it! Pop in another one of these tapes when this one is done playing! I'll see you when you've realized how awesome they are!" They playfully stick their tongue out at you, causing you to snicker a little. Once they're gone, you turn back to the TV...

The screen seems to be paused again... but it couldn't be, as music kept playing... You take a step closer, eyes squinting... The music playing is soft, and so too is the quiet crackle of static in the background... The glass screen isn't cracked or broken, nor is the video glitching. Yet the characters keep staring, as though shocked or surprised to see something... With a nervous shrug, you head back to the shelves, rearranging what you can and tidying up. Soon afterwards, the video seems to play correctly again, because you can hear a conversation going on between the characters. As the minutes fly by, you look through the extra box, finding more X-Men tapes, potentially for a lost season... You tuck those away. You can always watch them another day.

It's almost a relief when the store opens, letting in the stray teen or tired adult or confused older folk, all of whom have stopped here to hopefully find something old and waiting, ready to be used once more. It's nice, every now and again, to see someone's eyes light up when they've found something they've been looking for for quite some time... You're quiet as you check people out, bagging their items and nodding to idle chatter, wishing them a good day as they leave. It's almost nice, not being so busy or loud all the time...

When it's time to leave, your co-worker is paused by the TV, staring at it quietly. "Hey, Reader, is the screen broken? I think your old VHS tape is stuck," they tell you. They wear a lightly confused expression, but not concerned. You glance at the screen- seeing the characters are staring out, yet still talking- then turn back to your co-worker.

"Um... I'll look at it tonight... let me grab it..." You mumble tiredly, approaching the tape player. As you open the tape player, you aren't sure why, but... the X-Men almost seemed... pleased... You glance at the clock, noting the time, and wish your co-worker a good night. "Night, Kevin... I'll see you later..."

The walk back home is quiet, but the weight of the tapes in your bag (and the metal keys in your hand) make you feel just a tad bit safer. It doesn't take long for you to reach the sidewalk leading to your home, but... you swear it still feels like something is watching you... You quicken your pace, almost running down the pavement to the door of your downtrodden home, slipping the key into the lock and twisting it back once you're inside, locking yourself in, and everything else out.

Once you're inside you start to feel better. Slipping into the shower for a quick rinse and washing off, cleaning your hair, and slipping into a comfy sweater on the couch feels relaxing, after feeling tense all day... You huff, thinking about it. Why were you so worried? What had set you off? You tried to think of the answer as you looked over the tapes, not finding any loose film or cracked parts. You were careful rewinding them, taking care not to break or tear the film.

Were you on edge because it was getting colder? Or that is was getting darker earlier? It just seemed so stupid now, but you still weren't sure why you'd felt that way today.

You pop in one of the tapes after a minute, letting it start playing as you head into the small kitchen to start reheating dinner. You hum softly while you work, listening to an odd conversation between the characters-

"I haven't seen 'em in a while, but I sure have missed 'em..."

"It's going to be okay! We'll see them soon!"

"Why, of course! I hear they'll be coming back quite soon, in fact-"

"Well, that means we'll be ready for them, right, team?"

"Got it, boss~! I wonder what they're up to now..."

"Well, mehybe dinner 's a good idea, eh? Gambit be cookin' somethin', an' it's almost done!"

You continue to hum as you take out your reheated rice, soft and buttery. Next to it is a container holding steaming sauce, with bits of shrimp and sausage and herbs mixed in. You pour a bit of each into a bowl, mixing it together thoroughly. The warm smell soothes you, smelling of cozy rooms and kind people and bright smiles and savory spice... You exit the kitchen, settling onto your worn couch, blowing on a spoonful of your dinner... and see the X-Men eating the exact same food, jambalaya, on the screen.

For a minute you feel that sense of unease crawl over you again-

But you push it down, breathing in deep, then start eating your food. The spicy yet hearty taste is flavorful on your tongue, a memory of something you can't remember still lingering in your senses, making you smile just a little...

"Well... ain't it nice ta have dinner together, as a family~?"

You finish your food after awhile, then return your dishes to the sink. You'll wash them tomorrow... but now... you could use some sleep... You settle onto the old couch, pulling your thin blankets over you and closing your eyes... the air is quiet, the room dark, save for the crackle of the static and the soft glow of the screen... You're quick to drift off, exhausted as usual...

But watching you, ever the same protective and caring people as the were then, are old friends... family... who have finally found you... and among them a familiar face watches you as well, glad to have been able to spend the day with you, hoping to help you remember who they were, and who you used to be...

"Night, Reader... sleep tight..."

[acti-veg]

how would you respond to "I also think suffering is horrendous but as I said, I don't think veganism helps about that. In fact vegans usually oppose things like hunting and population control that don't make any sense from a welfare perspective, and for many things I consider veganism a burden in the way of welfarism"?

Well the idea that hunting reducing suffering is frankly laughable, but even ignoring that, this argument works only in the most no-nuance sense of reducing suffering. Walking into a hospital and just euthanising anyone experiencing any kind of pain would be reducing suffering in this same sense, and anyone opposing that action would be “getting in the way of welfarism.”

The big issue with that is that these animals only exist to suffer in the first place because they are bred specifically for profit. We’re talking about cheeseburgers and bacon here, any suffering to produce these items is wholly unnecessary. They want to talk about welfare, but their position is essentially that we should reduce suffering while continuing to breed and kill animals, ours is that we should end that same suffering by not breeding or killing those animals at all. Which of these actions results in less suffering?

The same is true of overpopulated species. They’re overpopulated because we killed all of their natural predators and took away their habitat to graze farmed animals. So which action reduces suffering more significantly - killing the overpopulated deer over and over every time they overpopulate, or reducing population through fertility control? Or better yet, solving the problem permanently through rewinding and the reintroduction of natural predators?

It is also important to remember that animal suffering is not the primary issue for vegans; animal rights are. This is why we most of us are abolitionists, rather than welfarists. If you take away someone’s right to life, liberty and bodily autonomy, but you don’t cause them any physical pain, is that suddenly okay? All the opportunity cost and the harm caused by the life and opportunities for joy that are denied is fine, so long as they aren’t experiencing physical pain?

Veganism “gets in the way of welfarism” only in the sense that we are not trying to make animal exploitation and slaughter slightly less horrific, we are trying to abolish it completely. They want to paint themselves as welfarists, but no one who is paying for an animal to be shot in the head, electrocuted, gassed or have their throat slit can be said to be in support of that animal’s welfare.

[konigsblog]

for the past couple of days all I can think about is like corruption with toxic dadbod price :(

just being told that "it's good for you so don't fight it" while he stuffs me up because obviously he knows better, he's older and way wiser so why wouldn't he?

this with dub-con, because dub-con and toxic!dadbod!price does something to me :( // trigger warning for dub-con, and of course, toxic and gross men !!

coercion, being coerced into allowed him to fuck you nice and raw, the experienced man knowing better, exactly how to fuck you :( bent over the edge of the couch, your face pressed against the cousin, and your ass in the air with his thick, hard cock running over your slit. he shushes you, degrading you for even thinking about talking without permission, that this will help him relax and rewind -- otherwise he'd just have to think it elsewhere, with other women.

you whimper at the stretch, trying to get familiar with the feeling of his prominent veins dragging against your gummy walls. folds wrapped around his girth tightly, your walls squeezing him as he pushes his full cock into your tight cunt, pussy dripping with pleasure, biting your lip as he fucks into you roughly!!! you moan with each thrust, eyes rolled back as he degardes and spanks your ass while calling you humilating names.

you wince as his tip smacks against your cervix, sobbing out, and wailing for him to slow down. he doesn't. “relax, doll. it'll feel better once you're relaxed.” you whimper at his words as he abuses your tight cunt, pussy raw as his balls smack against your ass, traveling down your thighs, trembling and mewling. “dirty fuckin' whore, takin' it all and complainin', attention seekin' bitch.” panting as he ruts deeper into you, plowing into his dirty, sticky mess.

[smutracha]

Volume XI

rewind <3 fast forward

Mafia!SKZ Yandere!SKZ Afab!reader Poly!SKZ

tw: violence, blood, guns, knives, nicotine, drugging, alcohol, ptsd, sexual harrasment, mentions of self harm, depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, depictions of death and gore

smut warnings: anal, oral(f), sex toys, filming, pet play, degradation, praise, squirting, shower sex

Monday – Minho

Waking up with Minho was always so pleasant, he would softly wake you up with a gentle voice and a light hand rubbing your back until you looked into his eyes and he could kiss you. He never said good morning, he would just kiss you before he climbed out of bed and piggybacked you into the kitchen where he would sit you down at one of the barstools so you could watch him cook. He’d always make you something extra when you woke up with him.

Partially to show his affection without having to say anything at all. Partially because it meant that you could take your pills and be fully functioning by the time the rest of the boys joined the two of you. Today it was apple and cinnamon oats, something he noticed you particularly enjoyed.

As you finally started coming to your senses, Chan walked into the kitchen in nothing but gym shorts. Hi princess, hi Lino. What’s breakfast today?” “I got oats and veggie sausage and mushrooms and an egg.” “Ooh the oats look yum.”

Minho went to grab a bowl for Chan to have what was left. “Mm, she’ll need the energy.” “Oh yeah, good luck little princess, he’s a bit of a sadist. And a major ass man.”

After breakfast, Minho led you to the shower where he washed your body with gentle flicks at your nipples every so often but when he decided he couldn’t handle just looking anymore, his mouth followed. His lips sucking and biting and gently teasing you had you whining for more. “Ask properly, little kitty.” “Please give me more, need more.” “Master, that’s what you will call me.” “Master, please give me more.” “Good kitten.” He was on his knees before you in no time, hooking a leg over his shoulder so that your wet, puffy folds were right in front of his eyes. “So wet already kitty.” “All because of master.”

He slid his tongue gently over your slit, repeating the process again and again. Tongue starting lower, every time. And like that he sat there, lapping at your ass, while his fingers toyed gently at your clit. The feeling sending you to a newfound bliss. “Master, please.” ”Please what, kitty?” “Fingers please, master.” “Where? Where do you want your master’s fingers?” “In my…” you were too shy and ashamed of yourself to even say the word. “Where, kitty? Could it be here?” he says poking gently at the hole his tongue had been so focused on just before. “Say it, kitty. Say it for your owner.” “Please put your fingers in my ass, master.” it was a shy whisper. “Say it properly, dumb kitten.” “Please finger my ass, master.” “Good kitty.”

“Here you go.” He snickered, plunging a finger inside, the feeling making you cum immediately. It was a whole new world of pleasure. “Oh poor kitten. My dumb little anal whore kitty. Did you cum from just that? Perfect.”

He shut off the shower, quickly wrapping you in a fluffy towel before picking you up and taking you to his personal room. “On the bed, all fours.” You got into the position he wanted, facing the headboard. You couldn’t see as he rummaged behind you but soon enough he came over to sit next to you. He set down a plush cat tailed butt plug, some lube and a dildo. “This dildo is special, my pet. Wanna know why?” you nod with large eyes staring at the blue cock. It was long and curved and an average girth. It had you drooling already, “Drooling over your master’s cock already? Dumb whore, this dildo is special cause it’s modelled after me. We got these so that you could have us when we aren’t able to help you. But look how handy they are.”

He wandered back to where he was and came back holding a pair of cat ears and a collar with a bell. Black and pink. it was all so co-ordinated. He adorned you with the items as he settled his hand roughly on your throat, digging the leather of your baby pink collar into your neck. “You’re gonna suck on this cock while daddy gets you used to your new tail, kitten.”

He placed the fake cock on the headboard for you to suck and drool on. After settling in behind you he pumped some lube onto your sensitive hole. The sudden cold making you jerk forward in shock but the second you felt his fingers rubbing over it, you moaned around the beautiful dildo in your mouth. “Good girl. Just relax.”

But that’s as far as his sweetness went it seemed. Without any warning, he had two fingers pumping into your ass, stretching you open before he spat into it. A wave of cum spilling from your pussy. “Oh dumb kitty, you must love this. God you’re just so perfect, can’t wait to fuck you.” You were already cock drunk; his words hardly even registered. Immediately after his last word he added another finger, landing a harsh slap to your clit to wake you up, he laid out an instruction “From now on, you only cum when I allow you to cum.” You moaned out an agreement around his fake dick. He stretched and pumped and fucked your ass into oblivion with his fingers.

He pulled his fingers out after some time. You were so far gone that you hadn’t noticed the butt plug disappearing from beside you. The cold push of metal against your ass causing a shrill shriek to sound in your chest. But the sound was muffled, and he scoffed at how pathetic you were. He pulled your hair to bring you off of the dildo, “Wanna hear you.” the plug pushed halfway in as you moaned at the sensation. Then it was pulled back, he kept half-fucking you with the plug. He lowered his head and his lips wrapped around your clit, making you scream in pleasure. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer. “Master, master please. Need to cum, master. Master, wanna cum. M good kitty, cum.” You were a babbling, drool covered mess as he popped his lips off of your clit and yelled “Cum!” before shoving the plug fully inside of you. You squirted on his chest, colours dancing in your vision as you let the orgasm wash over you. “God kitty, might need to shower again. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He rushed off to get a cloth to wipe you down, before doing the same for himself. “Come on, let’s get you some cuddles. What do you need?” “Wanna watch Daria and want water and sweets.”

He'd dressed you in a tiny skirt that barely covered your plump ass, allowing the tail to be seen perfectly. As well as one of his comfy knit sweaters. “Oh my god, you’re so cute my little kitten.” You stopped by the kitchen on your way to the screening room. Turns out the boys had gathered there for lunch.

“Oh, oh my. That’s-“ “Hot” “Did anyone else just nut too?” “Ew” “Man you ruined it” “Yeah”

“Okay if you could stop being weird, maybe you could come join us for aftercare.” “How is it aftercare when my little Pixie’s ass is stuffed like that, she’s still new.” “New? Hah.” He scoffed leading you out of the room while the rest followed. “she came thrice, just from me playing with her ass. She’s just an anal kitty now.” You blushed as he fawned over you and how happy you were making him, if that wasn’t enough, the feeling of being so full and the plug moving with every step had you practically dripping.

“Gonna have to do something bout the mess she’s making.” Hyunjin adds while watching your slick thighs rub and jiggle with every step. “That reminds me, I gotta have my sheets cleaned.” You reached the room, and he led you to sit in his lap while he instructed I.N what to put on for you. Sitting in his lap only pushed the plug further into you, making a moan spill from you. The pleasure brought tears to your eyes. “Holy shit, that’s hot.” “We’re only halfway through the training kitten, you’re already so broken.” You mewled at his hands running up your sides as his lips found purchase on your neck. He broke away as the intro song started. 5 episodes later, he decided it was time to finish his training on you.

“Remember baby, cum when I say so.” You were on the bed once again, set in what he told you is called ‘humble’ position. You were to put your ass on display while your back arched as you rested with your arms stretched out before you. He tugged lightly at your tail. Sending a shiver through your body and making you mewl loudly while he started pulling the plug out. You felt the way your aching hole stayed open, he groaned at the sight. “God, baby. At this rate m gonna lose my mind. You’re really made for me, aren’t you. I need to have this ass.” “Master, m yours. All yours, please fuck me. Need master.” “Fuck kitty, you’re making this so hard. I’ll give you my cock soon enough. For now, you’ll have to take a copy.” He rounded you to stroke your cheek gently while his fingers pumped your puckering hole. “is that ok, kitten?” “Yes master.” “So good for your owner, here let me lube you up.” He went to look at your ass again. You felt his spit land on and mostly in your ass just as you heard the sound. Your hips bucked backwards at the degrading action. God he really had you a mess so soon. “And to think you were so innocent, so unbroken only a few hours ago. What happened, pixie?” You could only whimper in shame at his degradation, what was more is that you loved every second of it. “Did your owner do this, baby? Did I really turn you into a cock-dumb bitch?” “Yes, master.” “Well then, let’s give you more. Let’s really break you.” He suddenly shoved the dildo into you. The feeling was amazing. The way you felt every ridge, the subtle curve and the head of it brushing your wall with every thrust. You were gone, drooling and whining. Not a single thought in your head. He stopped for a second, the pause making you open your lust blown eyes, only to find his phone set in front of your face. “I wanna show the boys just how pretty you are, how good you are. And all this just for a plastic cock, whore.” He went back to viciously fucking you with his dildo. “Who owns you baby?” You could only whimper and whine in response. His thrusts only became more volet. “Answer me you cock-hungry slut.” You were screaming with the cruelty of his actions, the pleasure overwhelming every cell. “You own me, master!” You screamed out. “Cum for your owner. Cum for me kitty!” And like that you blacked out in bliss. White flashes bursting behind your eyelids as you squirted all over his arm.

“So good, baby. So good.” He gently rubbed your back, pulling you up into his arms as he picked you up. He grabbed his phone too before carrying you into the bathroom. He sat you on the bathmat. “Gonna run us a bath ok, angel?” He opened the faucet, while the tub filled he held you gently. “You did so good baby, so good.” Soft kisses peppered your face as you giggled in spite of the drowsy state you were in. He stripped himself of his clothes and you of your ears and collar.

As you both settled into the tub he laid you on his shoulder. “It’s ok baby, go to sleep.”

You were wakened as the sun settled over the horizon, to a gentle voice. Met with Minho’s soft smile, he told you it was time for supper. “Come, I’ll carry you.” And indeed, he did. The boys sat chatting amongst themselves as you entered the kitchen, being brought to a seat. Only your food was left at the table. Minho placed you on his lap so that he could feed you while the boys watched. Their soft smiles making you feel warm. “Why you all staring?” “Just heard some screams earlier. You have fun with Minho, little fairy?” Hyunjin asked you.

They all laughed at the blush you tried to hide in your hands. “You must be a bit tired huh, baby? Who you cuddling tonight?” “Want Seungie” “Me? Really? I must be the luckiest guy in the world.” “Minho just had her ass dude; I think that trumps cuddles.” “I haven’t had her ass till I’m actually fucking her full of my cum.” An unanticipated moan filled the room as you felt the wetness rush to your pussy. “Wow she really is cock-hungry for her master, huh?” Changbin chuckles at your state. “Oh my god, you showed them that?!” “I said I would little kitty. By the way, they lost their minds. I’ve never seen Felix so desperate before in my life.” “She doesn’t need to know, Minho.” “Look at you, but I couldn’t get a coherent word out of you while you lost yourself on my cock. All of that from one clip of your precious pixie taking it up her ass. My pretty Lixie.” “Hyune, you know that’s not fair; you really know how to use me.”

“Seungie, sleep?” You found yourself drifting off even as the boys teased and argued about their sexual habits and performance. “Come little pup. Let’s go.”

[13leaguestories]

Wait no please, I need to know whether Chris is actually dead or not. My first time around I tried to bargain with the guys and they slit his throat. Rewind to a past save and threw the knife. Didn’t mention anything about him dying but he disappeared from my relationships menu and MC keeps acting as though he’s dead??? I just want a friend to lover trope 😭 (Season 1 btw)

P.S. how to save him if he did died there?

Yes, he can die. It has to do with charisma and your relationship with Syd.

No, I cannot answer this right now as again, I'm rewriting Episode Two and don't really see the point in doing the old version due to the fact that it's about to be obsolete.

[onlineoutcast]

After like brushing past that silver fox at the bar, I can't help think of y/n and Price.

Like Price is getting dragged to a karaoke bar because Soap and Gaz thought it would be funny hearing everyone's deep baritone voice try to sing like "Titanium" or "Chandelier". Ghost is there because Price was like "I'm not suffering alone" or something.

Price has to get up to go to the bathroom and as he's heading to the only bathroom, he sees a girl exit the karaoke room right next to the bathroom and beats him to it, slipping in faster than he can bother walking.

He goes to wait outside the door and five minutes later, this cute little thing is exiting the bathroom. She definitely doesn't fit the general crowd aesthetic in terms of dress code (mens smart casual suit and women in night time dresses) She's in skinny jeans and a graphic t-shirt. And hasn't looked up from drying her hands on her shirt.

He saw them come in earlier, her and her friends probably didn't expect to come to a place with a fancier dress code but he guesses if they are in their own karaoke room they don't bring down the aesthetic of the bar.

As she's leaving the bathroom, she looks up at him accidentally locking eyes. She was probably startled seeing someone outside the door. She whispered a quick "oh sorry!" With a cute smile and quickly toddles off.

A part of her wishes and thinks about turning around playing the "oh wait, sorry, I think I forgot something!" And quickly scuttle back into the bathroom. Price is wishing for the same so he can discreetly shut the door behind them locking it.

Both of them wishing that they could rewind time and be down each other's throats groping each other. Price lifting her up by her thighs and trapping her between himself and the wall, grinding his now rock hard erection into her clothed slit.

Instead, she's scuttling away to her karaoke room wondering who that silver fox was and if she's embarrassed herself from being too drunk to flush. And he going to the bathroom thinking who she was and how undignified the bathroom is. (He's yet to find out if she did or didn't flush 😂)