#Slitting and Rewinding

[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".

[selfadhesivepaperindustry]

Label stock Kraft Paper Lamination Film Jumbo Roll Release Paper slitter

This model jumbo roll slitter rewinder machine mainly use for converting pressure sensitive material, such as self adhesive paper, sublimation paper, BOPP, OPP, PVC film. Differential friction rewinding shaft for better control tension.

sonia wei E-mail: sonia@makwell-mech.com whatsapp: 008613306265137

[shikhadhimaan]

Jandu PPM - Slitting and Rewinding Machine Manufacturer

Jandu Printing and Packaging Machines Company is a leading Slitting and Rewinding Machine manufacturer and offers an exclusive range of slitter and rewinder machines, which are widely used for cutting and rewinding paper. Key Features of Slitting and Rewinding Machines Latest in Design Good Performance Simple in Operating Easy Maintenance High Speed Contact for Slitter and Rewinder…

[naina9953]

"Optimizing Workflow: Slitting Rewinding Machines at Their Best"

Cutting and handling materials are critical among industries that routinely engage the services of slitting rewinding machines. These machines have one specialty: slicing a larger roll into narrower widths, rewinding them into a neat roll at the same time. Materials such as paper, film, and foil can be cut to specific size requirements and be ready for downstream processing or immediate use.

These overseer machines run on high technology automating every process while ensuring that materials get wasted as little as possible and encouraging quicker turnaround times. Features include eye broaches, customizable slit widths, and tension control systems; providing mass production across a wide range of industries, the above-mentioned creates a new level in quality and productivity.

To avail the world-class slitting rewinding machines, the organization needs to visit UV Graphic, which is known for making the right innovative machines that are reliable and efficient. True believers in precision engineering and superior performance, UV Graphic sponsors an unprecedented level of operational excellence for all businesses.

[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.

[gojosconsort]

SATORU‘S phone is propped against a pillow, your onlyfans open, latest vid looping. you’re on screen, tiny lace thong barely covering your pussy, tits spilling out a bra you peel off slow—fuck, you’re hot. he’s hard, cock straining his sweats, thick and leaking as he shoves ‘em down, hand wrapping around the base, stroking fast.

“shit, look at you,” he mutters, voice rough, blue eyes glued to your ass bouncing as you grind on a pillow, moaning soft—his name’s on your lips, he swears it. precum slicks his fingers, shaft throbbing, veins popping under his grip while you spread your legs, fingers dipping into your wet slit. “so fuckin’ pretty,” he groans, imagining it’s his cock stretching you, your tight cunt squeezing him dry.

your vid cuts to you cumming, slick dripping down your thighs, and he’s done—fuck—pumping harder, balls tight, groaning loud as he cums, hot spurts splattering his chest, abs flexing. “goddamn tease,” he pants, rewinding, hand still moving—addicted—knowing he’ll sub again, craving every second of you.

[kkukverse]

january - baby fever 🔞

Pair : husband!jk x wife!reader

Genre: marriage au

Warnings: sex scenes [blowjob, cunnilingus, missionary, baby fever jk]

w/c: 2.5k

a/n: none for now, just hope you guys enjoy it.

“Yes, that’s it, baby” He moaned. His hand caressing the back of your head. Running his thick fingers through your hair. Carefully guiding you as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft.

With his deep voice, it only riled you up even more. His sweet touch makes you want to give him a good - blow - job. Your sweet husband is groaning and chanting how you are such a good girl.

Wanting to keep pleasing him, you use your free hand to fondle his balls and you glide your fingers up and down with ease as your saliva mixes with his precum. As a dutiful wife, you just know how to touch him, make him putty in your hands, literally. 

You gave his long shaft a kitten lick at the slit on the tip before you started swallowing his dick. You build up the pace as you suck it half way first, teasing him a little more. 

“Come on, baby. Don’t be mean now,” Jungkook gritted his teeth. He was so close to bliss. Your warm mouth feels like heaven. This is just the beginning and Jungkook feels like he almost cum immediately like a horny teenage boy. 

You pull out with a loud sticky sound, satisfied to see a string of your saliva mixed with Jungkook's pre-cum. Your fingers grip securely on his hard dick. Eyes locked on his and you shamelessly give his dick a kiss before you swallow it whole, again. 

“All the way, love” Jungkook instructed. It excites him to see his dick coming in and out of his wife’s pretty mouth. 

His moan and his encouragement motivates you to throw that dick in your mouth, as far as you can. You gagged as you feel his hard dick poking your throat but it feels so good.

Everytime you moan along to every thrust from your mouth, Jungkook almost buckled. His hand now is holding the back of your head, with knitted brows, he is holding himself real hard from not face fucking you. 

Hours spent on building his leg muscle but whenever you, on your knees, sucking and swallowing his dick like a good girl, he is weak. Your hair is covering your face and he bundles it up, he wants to see your messy face more clearly. 

“God, my pretty baby. You’re so messy,” he teases. A sly smirk adorned his face. “Mine,” he breathes. Jungkook basks in the euphoric moment because only him can get to see you like this. 

He keeps on chanting “Good girl, you’re so amazing,” and it motivates you. Taking a deep breath, you swirl your tongue around his dick. It was not an easy task, as his dick is on the bigger side. But, you want to impress him. Sitting on your knees, with your hands clawing at his muscular thighs, you looked up again.

From your view, Jungkook looks ethereal. You can see he is controlling himself from the way his eyes shut, his knitted brows and the soft moan that escaped his mouth. As you are lost in the view, Jungkook opens his eyes, staring at you. In a different situation, he has a set of innocent bambi eyes.

But now, his eyes are hazy and full of lust. He gazes down to look at you with a clenched jaw. He’s trying his best to compose himself. 

Jungkook slightly pulled your hair, 

Your tongue keeps on licking the slit on the tip whilst sucking every inch of him. 

“Easy, baby. Don’t want you to get tired. We’re just beginning,” he hissed

“Mmm,” you moaned. Mouth full of his dick. The musky smell fills your living room. The slow music from his speaker is just riling up the two of you. To keep us in the mood, he said. 

The mood. The baby-making-mood to be specific.

Now let’s rewind back to before you and Jungkook got into this position.

You have no idea what possessed Jungkook this morning. You woke up with him in between your legs, shirtless and you were naked from the waist down. Your pajama pants were nowhere to be found.

Before you can process, Jungkook snuggle his nose on the mound of your cunt.

“G’morning baby,” he winked. Eyes sneakily searching for your approval. Like a hungry man, he dives down to give your clit the attention it desperately needs. He licks your little nub before starting sucking on it.

That really woke you up. 

“Ahh, Jungkook!” You screamed. Instantly your body arched up and your hands found their place on his head. Your fingers scrunching his dark locks as if he is your anchor before you completely drown in pleasure.

Moan after moan escaped your lips. A melody to Jungkook’s ear. Though you just abruptly woke up, your voice sounds like an angel. The way you moan and scream makes his cock twitch in his tight boxer.

You were trashing as he turned his sinful tongue to your lower lips. He licks them up and down and playfully wiggle his tongue at the entrance of your cunt. What a tease. The sound of him slurping and sucking is too loud. He’s driving you insane.

His muscular hands held you down as you kept on squirming your body. He didn’t want his best cunt to be away, not even an inch away from him. Succumbing to the pleasure, you curl your feet and your thighs tremble. Noticing that you’re becoming louder, you put your hand over your mouth, biting it to suppress the moan.

“Uh uh, wanna hear you scream,” Jungkook notices everything. He gently lifts your hand away from your mouth. His eyes darkened with lust as he can clearly see how laboured your breath becomes. Your chest rises up and down and the nipples are poking through your shirt. He should’ve taken it off, made you completely naked.

Jungkook woke up with one mission only. To make you cum on his tongue. That’s why he went straight to your pants. Now he regrets not just taking everything off. 

“Kook,” You whine. He sure took his time to admire your body he forgot your cunt is clenching and unclenching on nothing. “Make me cum,” you begged.

“Impatient,” he chuckles. Obeying to you he continues his lapping on your cunt. Only this time he pushed his tongue inside. Your body jolted at the sensation and your hands moved like a reflex as you pulled his hair. It made Jungkook feel good too, the sting on his scalp excited him to no end and he focused on savouring you. 

He sneaked a peek at his beautiful wife and he saw you shut your tight in pleasure, with your mouth agape in an O shape and every sinful sound coming out of it. Every breath you take displays your perky breasts even more. Jungkook cock feels heavy and he could just cum like this. But, he must make you go first.

His tongue is still playing inside of your cunt as he hover his thumb on your clit. It looks so cute and Jungkook can’t resist it anymore. He rubs your clit with his thumb, while collecting some of your juice to make the rubs smooth. 

It snaps you up. 

“Ahh! Ahh! Yes, yes ,yes,” you chanted. “I’m cumming, I’m cuming,”

“Come on, love” Jungkook rubs the circle on your clit even harder. “Cum on my tongue,” he adds.

Suddenly it was bright white and your ears were ringing. You were brought back to reality when Jungkook’s figure loomed over yours. He rigorously pumps his hard cock with his hand lubed with your cum that he collected. 

You props yourself up on your elbow as you encourage him to finish himself off. 

With scrunched brows, Jungkook eyes are focused on your cunt. It was so wet and your juice is coating the outside part of your cunt. He was so satisfied to know that he was the one who did that. 

“Where? Tell me where?” Jungkook rushes to ask as he is about to cum.

“Here, on my boobs.” You answered. Taking off your shirt in one swift and you guided your body towards him.

Jets of white sticky cum decorate your body. 

“That’s a lot,” you breathe. “I should’ve asked you to pump it all in my cunt,”

“Sorry, baby. Later, okay,” he promised. 

It was a good alarm for your morning, but after he cleaned you up, Jungkook clings to you. Not that you’re complaining, but you were literally dragging him along while getting ready for work. Jungkook has been hugging you, smelling you all morning. It was quite difficult to get ready when you had a grown man get handsy with you.

You even purposely ignore his stiff morning wood -again- even though he did moan because it is such a dangerous route. If you accidentally aroused him again, you might have to take an emergency leave today. He’s lucky he got to work from home. You on the other hand have to join a meeting on New Year’s night. 

Jungkook even followed you to the bathroom, hands busy roaming your body, your hip and your breasts. He leaves wet kisses trailing from your neck to your back. He pouts like a kid when you tell him to leave no mark.

He was horny, but it was wise to not entertain him. You have a meeting today. Wearing a turtleneck to hide the blossoming reds on your neck is just not professional and it makes you itchy.

He didn’t stop there. After he made you a coffee to go, he stood still like a lost child, only in his boxer. He only responds after you ask something about what to eat for dinner later to which he replies, “Panda Express”. 

“Cute,” you answered before you kissed him goodbye.

Jungkook was being extra clingy and affectionate and you know something is on his mind.

You were right.

Your phone is blowing with notifications from various social medias. Tiktok and Instagram. The main culprit? Jeon Jungkook. 

It was never an issue since the two of you enjoy sharing memes, videos and whatever it is you found interesting to share. Your husband is your number one friend. It was fun to react when you’re free. You didn’t have the time to check the phone and the notification was non-stop.

After the meeting, you excused yourself to check them all in your place. It was full of videos of cute babies. There are some where he left adorable comments to you, such as, can’t wait to experience this, look at those small feet, let’s buy a family set shirt for our future babies, and more.

You have been noticing this behaviour. Jeon Jungkook is experiencing a baby fever.

His eyes almost teared up at a video of a couple retelling their birth and pregnancy journey on tiktok. He can see how they look so content while holding their bundle of joy. Jungkook never knew he had this side of him. 

Ever since coming back from your hometown, you two have been seriously talking about having a child. Jungkook is brimming with joy at the thought of it and he suspects that his phone is bugged. In a good way. Because his social media algorithm keeps showing him babies, pregnancy, birth, parenting and fatherhood. It certainly makes him more excited to expand the family with you.

He didn't tell you but he secretly imagined how to decorate the spare room as a nursery. He is that excited. He even looks up on how to be a good partner throughout the pregnancy journey. Sure, he has his best friend, Taehyung. But he wanted to learn it all by himself. 

He cannot ask Taehyung because Taehyung will bring along his little baby, and that will only make Jungkook’s baby fever rise. 

Jungkook is a little impatient but it somehow makes your heart bloom in happiness. He is such a wonderful husband and he will be the best dad. Those things that were shared by Jungkook did excite you too and no wonder he was relentless this morning. 

So, when you arrived, a bit later than expected since it's at the end of the year, smelling food that he bought from whatever it is but your vision is tunnel on the guy who smiles like a bunny, wearing his glasses, his sweatpants and his baggy shirt. The food smells good but he looks yummy. 

Apparently, Jungkook is not the only one with the baby fever.

Xxx

“Can’t wait to see you grow with a baby in your belly,” Jungkook sighs. His palms are caressing your lower belly. Admiring the view from between your thighs. After you gave him the best blowjob ever, he couldn’t control himself. Suddenly the bedroom feels like a thousand miles away.

He scoops you up before gently drops you on the sofa. HIs eyes focused on the glistening folds of your vagina and he didn’t wait long before he mercilessly ate you out. He brings you straight to heaven with every lick and sucks at the folds and the clit. Jungkook has been at it for quite some time. You have already cum two times on his tongue. You’re sure it’s almost midnight.

Your moan and gasp are music to his ears and he wants more. 

His fingers are toying your opening before he positioned his dick. In one motion, he thrust deep inside of your warm pussy.

“Don’t tighten yet,” He breathed. He wants to feel you completely but he is also embarrassed that he almost cum as soon as he is inside of you. 

“Nngh, you’re so deep,” you babble. “Miss your dick.” Truthfully you can feel his whole length inside of you. You can’t help how your pussy walls pulsate around his dick. That makes Jungkook pick up the pace. 

“My messy baby,” he whispers to your ear, his thumb rubs around your cheek. You were a sobbing mess with his deep thrusts. 

“Harder, Koo,” you begged. You are reaching the end and you can almost feel the bliss.

Agreeing to you, Jungkook grabs both of your legs and hangs them over his shoulders before he keeps ramming into you. The squelching sounds and the creaking sound from the sofa distracted you two from what's happening outside of your window.  

“Inside, cum inside, my love,” you chanted.

“I am, I am,” Jungkook gritted his teeth as he reached his end. 

Splurts of warm cum filled you up. You can feel ribbons of cum from Jungkook as he pumped himself dry in your pussy.

Suddenly the sky lit up with colours and an exploding sound. Living on the 22th floor of a condo gave you guys the perfect view for the New Year’s firework.

The two of you are catching on your breath as you are mesmerized by the bursting colours on the night skies. Both your hand and Jungkook’s hand lays on the top of your lower belly. Silently praying for the best year ever for your little family.

“Happy new year, baby”

“Happy new year, Jungkook”

[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 😭😭😭😭

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What a Mess 4

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: thick!Bucky Barnes

Summary: Your new job isn’t all that you expect. (maid AU – short!reader)

Note: hate me, baby.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bucky coughs. You hear him through the wall. Your earbuds are still in your pocket. The smell of coffee pervades the apartment. 

The door opens as you unload the dishwasher. He emerges with a cloud of steam from the shower, along with the smell of his soap. His hair is damp and messy, his beard shining with moisture as his eyelids slit. 

"Doll," he stops on the other side of the counter as you keep your attention on the dishes. You are aware that he was only a towel around his waist, that realisation making the plate clack loudly as you put it away. "Can ya close the curtains for me?" 

"Sure," you agree and leave the dishwasher open.  

He lumbers to the couch and sits. You glimpse him as you tug on the cords to draw the curtains. You quickly hide around the corner as you return to the kitchen. 

He groans as you try not to clink the porcelain too loudly. You feel bad for him. You can tell just by looking at him how much he hurts. You've always had a bleeding heart. 

You roll the rack back into the dishwasher and close the door. You grab your phone and chew your lip. He would probably prefer to be left alone. Still, you can't see how trying to help is bad. 

You approach him as the results load on your phone. You hover behind him as you scroll. His breath startles you as he heaves. 

"Need something?" He asks without looking back. 

"Erm," you wince and shuffle around the couch. You hold out your phone. He narrows his eyes at the screen and scowls. "For your head?" 

He watches the video and shrugs. The gesture catches your attention for a split second. His right arm is just as thick as the metal one, muscle taut and bulging. His chest looks softer under a mat of dark hair and his stomach overhangs the towel just a little. 

"Too much work," he grumbles and his eyebrows twitch with the effort it takes to speak. He touches his forehead and growls.  

You lower the phone, "sorry." 

"...unless," he drops his hand and looks at you, agony sewn into his expression. "You could..." he looks at your hands. "Doll?" 

You glance down at your hands, clutching your phone tighter. You watch the video of the 'scalp massage', fingers kneading into thick strands. You bring the screen closer.  

"I can try," you say at last. 

Your gaze meets his again and he nods. He bends forward and hangs his head. He grips the cushions as his hair falls over his face.  

You rewind the video and set the phone beside him so you can see it. You rub your palms together anxiously. You raise them and hesitate above his head. 

"Will you let me know if it hurts?" You ask. 

He laughs then groans. "Sure, doll." 

You touch his hair lightly then weave through his locks until you meet his scalp. You press your fingertips in and swirl them like the video. He grumbles again and you stop.  

"Keep going," he rasps. 

He leans into your touch. You firmly knead his head as you stare at his wet hair. A few strands of silver thread through the dark tangle. Another droning noise rises from him. 

His breath deepens enough for you to hear it. You move your hands around his head as he leans into you, more and more. You hope he feels better even as your anxiety peaks with his snarls. 

Is this okay? You probably shouldn't have done this. Even if he is in pain. You could be fired for unprofessional behaviour.  

As you curl your fingertips against his scalp, he moans. You yelp as suddenly he reaches to clamp down on your wrists. He stills you but doesn't shove you away. 

"I'm sorry," you squeak as he lifts his head. 

He keeps hold of you as he looks at you. His face is tense, jaw squared, eyes foggy, a vein coursing in his forehead. His grips tightens dangerously as you whimper. He looks... feral. 

"I'm sorry," you apologise again. 

He growls. Like an animal. He stands as his thumbs run up and down the insides of your wrists. You gape at him in horror. You're in trouble. 

You say sorry again and again and again as he walks you backwards. He turns you around the couch and continues around to the foot of the spiral staircase. You wriggle and whine as you as good as dangle from his grasp.  

He jars you suddenly, pulling you against him. He lets you go as you crash against his stomach. You shakily press your palms to him but can't get away. 

You look up at him, "Bucky," you quaver, "I'm sorry if I hurt you." 

"No," he breathes and grabs you by the waist, "I'm sorry if I hurt you." 

Before you can process his words, he hauls you up and over his shoulder. He turns to the stairs and hooks his arm around you to keep you steady. His other hand slides up the railing as climbs the steps. 

You squeak and lightly brush his back, "Bucky?" 

He doesn't stop. The ascent makes you even dizzier as you hang over his shoulder. You don't understand what's happening. What is he doing? 

He angles you through the hatch and up into the loft. That's against the rules too. You're not supposed to be up there. 

"Please, I'm sorry..." 

He carries you across the room and bends to put you down. He sits you on the foot of the bed and you quiver as he stands straight. His hands go to the front of the towel, slack around his hips. You peer up at him. 

"What did I do?" You eke out. 

He puffs through his nose and pulls the towel free. He bends and cradles your head. His nose touches yours and he snarls. He urges you back until you're flat and you tremble at his mercy. 

"Something," he growls. 

[wangxianficrecs]

Rewind 2024 - Part III

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2024

Part three of our favourite stories published in 2024. If you also want to give a shout-out to a story, submit an ask and we will share it in an upcoming post featuring Follower Recs and Proud Author Spotlights.

~*~

Shoot Down the Sun

by phabulousphantom

E, 74k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: The Yiling Patriarch was felled on the Langya Front. The world to which he returns is very different from the one he left behind. This, in no small part, because he now inhabits the body of an omega.

~*~

the future haunts the past

by sysrae (@fozmeadows)

G, <1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: in which feelings about the parallels between Wei Wuxian and Madam Lan produced a poetry-adjacent chatfic

~*~

Bloom for you

by wngxnic

M, 19k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “How long?” Wei Wuxian asks, controlling the urge to cough up another set of flowers. “We can get rid of—” “How long do I have, Wen Qing?” He asks again, his throat clogging with the petals that are threatening to spill. “3 weeks” Love is a kaleidoscope of emotions. It brings hope, joy, pain, and sometimes it drives you to a slow, painful death until you bleed dry and cough flowers for the one you love or a fic where wei wuxian has the hanahaki disease

~*~

You'll Be The Saddest Part Of Me

by YilingSani (@YilingSani)

G, 8k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Five years later, the world had moved on. But not Lan Zhan. He carried his grief quietly. Privately. This little grief was all he had left from Wei Ying. If he let it go, then the memory of Wei Ying would eventually fade away. He would forget that face, that laughter. So, Lan Zhan held on to his grief as tightly as possible. And as the years went on, he realised that what he lost wasn't just his friend or his love. He had lost his soulmate. A wound as such would never heal.

~*~

light is what we create

by lanhualaozu

T, 3k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Have you ever wondered what it feels like to exchange qi with someone?” It had honestly been a rather innocent question, a simple half-formed musing of Wei Ying’s. It wasn’t until Lan Zhan stiffened across from him, going so much more still than his usual calm immobility, that Wei Ying’s brain began to pay a bit more attention. And then Wei Ying’s face promptly went up in flames.

~*~

🔒 Oh Neighbour Of Mine

by Hidenka_chan101 (@hidenkac)

M, 9k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Neighbours Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, live next door to each other and a hard, opaque plexiglass-type barrier separates their balconies. One morning, as Lan Wangji lays down his yoga mat for some early morning yoga, he spies a pair of panties that had crossed onto his side of the balcony.

~*~

HOT TO GO!

by sassybluee (@sassybluee)

E, 7k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of MDZS Reverse Big Bang: 2024

Summary: Ever since rooming together in university, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have share an interest in the popular webnovel Modao Zushi. While Lan Zhan doesn't actively participate in fandom, Wei Ying is a popular cosplayer and online personality. Over the years, Lan Zhan has helped Wei Ying with his various cosplays and social media posts. Despite working so closely together, Lan Zhan has never asked for Wei Ying's fandom username, and Wei Ying has never given it to him. He's never seen everything Wei Ying posts on his accounts. Until he stumbles upon Wei Ying's "after dark" cosplay page...

~*~

💙 stray cat strut

by ScarlettStorm (@scarlettohairdye)

E, 54k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of MDZS Reverse Big Bang: 2024

Summary: Lan Wangji lifts his head to press his lips to Xiao-Hei's forehead, the kiss an expression of all the affection he has to offer. “Prrt?” Xiao-Hei says, and stretches, and— The weight on Lan Wangji increases abruptly, and his hands aren't touching soft fur anymore, they're touching soft skin—bare skin—and he's looking down into Xiao-Hei's yellow, slitted eyes, though not into Xiao-Hei's little cat face, but the face of a man. A beautiful, startled, very naked man. Or: Lan Wangji finds himself with a stray cat he didn't want, then a stray cultivator he pretends not to want, and then a stray boyfriend he definitely wants.

~*~

Roadside Attractions

by Bodldops (@neverwalka1one)

T, 10k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: According to Lan Wangji, Yiling has two main items of interest. First, there is a supposedly demonic cultivator who a) may not exist and b) if he does, is keeping the town remarkably safe and not demonic. Secondly, there is Wei Ying, a man he is falling in love with. These are definitely two separate things.

~*~

Good Fortune Lies Within Bad

by ereshai (@ereshai)

T, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of the MDZS Kidfic Exchange

Summary: Whatever had happened must have been recent - the child, who they had discovered crying all alone outside the house, was scared and probably hungry, but otherwise unhurt.

~*~

tiny gentians

by humancorn (@humancorn)

G, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji scolds five year old Wei Wuxian and deals with the consequences.

~*~

An Unscheduled Stream

by trippednfell (@trippednfell)

M, WIP, 71k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: A viral video sweeps through the internet, which appears to show the 1st disciple of Yunmeng Jiang take on a full nest of evil beings in an attempt to protect five juniors from his sect. The unscheduled livestream captures everyone's attention, but there has to be more there than meets the eye. The Lan assign their own 1st disciple, Lan Wangji, to investigate. That investigation will take him years into the future and miles away from Gusu as he seeks to find the truth. When he does find it, it has a far greater impact on his life than he could ever imagine.

~*~

(一日三秋) One day (seems like) three autumns

by SpicyRamen_10969 (@yllzchair)

M, WIP, 47k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of the MDZS Big Bang 2024

Summary: 13 Years ago, Wei Ying disappeared. 13 years later, two teenage boys find a man collapsed and bleeding on the side of the road. This is the story of how Wei Ying finds himself going from homeless to living with his childhood best friend, Lan Wangji, and finally getting the help and love he needs and deserves.

~*~

so i cut the shackles and changed my name

by MichelleFeather

G, WIP, 34k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “A-Ying, should anything happen, should you be separated from us or find yourself in need of help, find Lan Qiren in Cloud Recesses. No matter what’s happened, he will keep you safe. He has sworn to me his home will always be open to you, no matter what.” Following the advice of his late mother, Wei Ying runs away from Lotus Pier, knowing that if he were to stay, he would likely die at the hands of Madam Yu. And, he finds, the Lan Clan is the place where he was always supposed to be.

~*~

The Sun is back

by Shanashe

G, WIP, 3k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wen Ruohan's soul is attached to Wei Wuxian after his death. He lingers and witnesses all the canon events that follows. Post Canon, he gets sent back to the past.

~*~

Wei Wuxian's Delightful Demon Baby!

by CheekyBrunette

T, 22k, Wangxian | Mojo's Rec

Summary:The house was very small, only two rooms, and it was largely empty aside from some sparse pieces of furniture. Even the sleeping mat seemed to have been rolled up and carried away. There were a few left behind items that proved they’d found the right cottage, such as a birthing stool and a pile of blankets. Zizhen poked his head to look in a bassinet and screamed. Jin Ling drew his sword. Jingyi gasped and clutched his heart, terribly startled. Sizhui rushed over, hand on the hilt of his sword just in case. “Oh,” he said. Wei Wuxian poked his head over. “Oh!” he said delightedly.  Wei Wuxian finds a demon baby during a nighthunt and is immediately smitten with it. Meanwhile, Lan Sizhui is very anxious to solve the case so he can get ahold of himself. (He's never been jealous of someone before, much less a baby, but... maybe this is what it feels like.)

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[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...