#rewinder unit

[conpaptex]

A Rewinder Unit is a specialized machine designed to rewind material, such as paper, films, textiles, or other roll-based materials, from one roll to another. Conpaptex manufactures high-quality Rewinder Units that ensure precision, durability, and efficiency, catering to various industrial needs.

[themadmanofbloomington]

Part 2! This part was significantly harder to do because some of these nerds don't want to stand on carpet. Ironically the fallen was the easiest to get to stand.

[luckytidbit]

Fanfic lore 2. The Bill of Recall and The Laws of Rewinding.

[ryansbedroom]

[eightone81podcast]

The podcast is live! Check out our first episode about the Buggles’ “Video Killed the Radio Star,” wherever you find podcasts…

[daisynik7]

Make Me Sweat

Pairing: Aoi Todo x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~2.5k

cw: written with a curvy reader in mind, canon-divergent (post-Shibuya but a happy one), all characters are 18+, explicit language, smut – cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spit play, PIV sex (cowgirl position, mating press), breeding kink, praise kink, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, good girl), creampie 

Summary: With the start of the new year, you make it one of your resolutions to become more active. You begin at your apartment's fitness center, where you run into your muscle head, loud-mouth next-door neighbor, Aoi Todo. He offers his gratuitous advice, annoying you at first. But when he suggests a particular kind of workout, it piques your interest enough that you can't refuse.

Author’s Note: I used metric units (kg) to describe the weights. Also, I am no expert in lifting so please take all of this with a grain of salt LOL. I just know that canonically, these characters are fucking STRONG. I stopped with the tag list on this one bc technically this was a bonus fic and I wasn't sure if anyone wanted to be tagged in these. With that, please enjoy some shameless smut about our favorite JJK himbo! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

part 6 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

When you said you wanted to start exercising more, you weren’t expecting this: being bounced up and down your next-door neighbor’s impressively huge cock. Yet, here you are, getting pounded with your ass slapping lewdly on his thighs. His big hands dig into the sides of your belly, his lips on the skin of your neck, voice gruff and husky.  “Told you, didn’t I?” 

Let’s rewind to a few hours earlier.

You haven’t been prioritizing yourself lately; your obligations during the day drain all the energy from you and your bed is always so enticing for a nap. When the new year approaches, you make it one of your resolutions to be more active. The gym in your apartment complex is finally open after being renovated the past three months and now, there’s really no excuses when the opportunity is just five floors below you. Your forego your usual nap and suit up in your favorite workout clothes, heading down the elevator to the fitness center. 

Luckily, it isn’t crowded; the only other people inside are Aoi Todo, your neighbor, and his pink-haired buddy, Yuji. They’re both at the weights section, Yuji doing squats with the barbell while Todo spots him, yelling at him encouragingly. “Come on, brother. Hold it, hold it! You got this!”

Yuji grunts, holding the deadlift for as long as possible, eventually dropping it to the floor with a loud thud. Todo claps emphatically, beaming at him. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

You smile to yourself, amused at Todo’s contagious enthusiasm. When he notices you, he gives you a nod, which you return, slightly embarrassed for being caught watching. 

Have you mentioned yet how fucking ripped he is? Today, he wears a loose tank, arm holes cut low to show off his extraordinary physique. Arms bulging with muscles, an incredibly large chest, a well-defined eight-pack. He’s built like a Spartan warrior, ready for battle, destined for victory. It’s impossible to ignore a body like his, even more impossible to ignore his eccentric attitude, which gets on your nerves when you have to listen to his noisy demeanor on the opposite side of the wall. 

The cardio section is on the other side of room, so you make your way to one of the treadmills, setting the level to a walking pace for a quick warm-up. Before you put your headphones in to listen to music, you eavesdrop of their conversation, observing them from your peripheral. 

“Good shit, brother,” Todo says, massaging his shoulders affectionately.

Yuji scratches his head, grinning. “Still got work to do to match my PR. After Shibuya, my strength hasn’t been the same.”

“You’re still the strongest fucker I know. Besides me, of course,” Todo adds, chuckling. “Spot me before you go.” 

They replace the already notable weights with what you suspect are heavier ones. Yuji whistles through his teeth. “300. You’re losing your touch, don’t you think?” he teases, nudging him in the ribs.

Todo digs into a container of powdered chalk, coating his fingers with it. “I’m taking it easy today. Don’t want to over-exert myself in case something exciting happens later.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grabs on to the barbell, smirking. “I don’t know yet. We’ll see.” Maybe it’s your imagination, but you can almost swear that his eyes meet yours for a split second in the reflection of the mirror. 

You continue to observe as Todo easily deadlifts 300 kg, as if it weighs nothing to him, repeating this ten times without breaking a sweat.

Yuji laughs, helping him rerack. “That’s crazy.”

Todo pats his back. “You’ll get there soon, brother. Once you’re fully recovered, you’ll be lifting more than me, I’ll make sure of that.” His unwavering support is actually endearing. Sure, he can be obnoxious, but this side of him is charming. 

Unfortunately, this sentiment doesn’t last long. Once Yuji leaves, Todo decides to choose the treadmill right beside you, purposefully neglecting the surrounding unoccupied cardio machines. You’re still at a walking pace, eyeing him suspiciously as he stands there, blatantly watching you with a cocky grin. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Avoiding his gaze, staring at the console in front of you, you mutter, “Excuse me, but I’m trying to focus here.”

“Focus on what? Walking?” he scoffs, leaning on the handrail nearest to you. “You’re not going to get far if you keep going at a snail’s pace.”

You roll your eyes, finally looking at him. “So what do you suggest, Oh-Wise-One?”

It’s meant to be sarcastic, but of course, he thinks you’re genuinely asking. “You’ve got to alternate between high intensity and low intensity. Sprint for thirty seconds, then walk for a minute to cool off. Then repeat. Simple as that.”

As much as you appreciate the gratuitous advice, you’re already familiar with high intensity interval training. You’re just nervous to actually do it, not confident in your running abilities. “I’m not a good runner,” you admit. 

“I’m sure that’s not true. Come on, show me what you got.” He crosses his arms over his pecs, waiting. 

Deciding it’s better to relent to him rather than argue, you brace yourself, upping the speed so that you’re doing an easy jog. 

“You can do better than that!” he hollers, reaching for the controls to increase the level, making the track move faster and faster. You’re sprinting full speed now, lasting about thirty seconds before you swat him away, tugging at the emergency shut off cord to stop it. 

You catch your breath, glaring at him, sweat starting to bead on your forehead. "What the fuck, are you trying to kill me?!"

He’s unfazed by your outburst and oblivious to the asshole move he made. “Don’t be so dramatic. You did great. You have really nice form.”

You don’t let his compliments dissuade you from being angry at him. “You can’t just do that without any warning. I’m still getting used to all this.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I won’t do that again.” He watches you take long sips from your water bottle, scanning your figure up and down. A coy smirk spreads across his face. "You know, if running ain't your thing, there are other workouts we can try that might suit you better."

You continue to drink, gradually regaining your composure. "Like what?"

He leans in close to you, breath hot on your ear. "Sex."

You choke on your water, using your towel to wipe the mess. Ready to give him an earful, he hops off the track, walking towards the exit. "If you want to work up a real sweat, you know where to find me. I promise to make it worth your while.”

And with that, he's gone, leaving you speechless. And intrigued. 

~~~

After dinner, you take a long shower, Todo’s unconventional suggestion replaying continuously in your mind. You’re almost certain it’s a ridiculous joke, though the more you analyze it, the less ridiculous it seems. In fact, by the time you’re drying off in front of the mirror, checking your reflection carefully, you’re seriously considering it. You’re not particularly tired from earlier, so maybe you have room for one more workout. And hey, if the offer still stands, why not take it?

You slide into a different pair of leggings, one that shows off your curves, and slip on a t-shirt, fulling prepared to exercise. In your running shoes, you walk the few steps next door and knock twice. When he doesn’t answer within the first ten seconds, panic sets in and you’re tempted to turn on your heel to retreat. Before you can, the door swings open and you’re greeted by Todo’s bare bust. He smirks, not at all surprised to see you standing in front of him. “Hey.”

Swallowing the thick saliva gathering on your tongue, you let out a meek, “Hello.” His enormous frame towers over you and you can’t help but salivate at the sight of him. You always assumed he’d be the type of guy to walk around shirtless in his apartment. Not that you’re complaining.

He beckons you inside, closing and locking the door shut behind him. “Can’t stop thinking about it, huh?”

You roll your eyes at him, cracking a smile simultaneously. “Well, it’d be rude to turn down such a generous offer, right?”

He lets out a small laugh, stepping towards you, gripping at your hips to pull you into him. “I knew you were a smart girl.”

You’ve severely underestimated how much bigger he is than you until this moment, as you peer up at him eagerly. “Todo.”

He bows his head down, mouth grazing your ear. “Aoi.”

“Aoi,” you repeat, breath hitching. 

“Good girl,” he praises, making you shudder with anticipation. “Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

You paw at his chest, admiring his sculpted muscles, pressing your fingers into them without even making a dent. “I want you to give me that workout you promised me.”

“Yeah?” he croons, his noticeable erection strained in his sweatpants. “You want this fat fucking cock, don’t you?”

He’s as vulgar as you imagined he’d be and it only spurs you on. You link your arms around his neck, on your tippy-toes to meet him for a kiss. Instead, he hoists you up, holding you with his hands below your ass, your legs wrapped around his waist. His boner throbs as you buck your hips on him, desperate for friction on your aching clit. “You feel it, don’t you?” he purrs, grinding you against him. “That’s all for you.”

He carries you into the bedroom, kissing you sloppily with his massive tongue invading your mouth. When he can’t take it anymore, he tosses you onto the mattress, stripping his clothes off swiftly, you doing the same. He crawls on top of you, ogling your naked body, a lustful gleam in his expression. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“You’re so fucking big,” you blurt out in response, not knowing a better word to describe him. Because everywhere you look, Aoi Todo is big. Big biceps, a tremendous torso, a huge fucking cock ready to fill you the fuck up. You spread your legs open for him, practically begging for him to fuck you. 

“Look at this perfect pussy,” he coos, face inching closer to your cunt. He hocks a thick wad of spit directly onto your clit, smearing it with his tongue. “So wet for me.”

You squirm beneath him, unable to control yourself. “Fuck, Aoi,” you swear, toes already curling from the sensation. 

“I’m going to make you come first. Make this pussy extra creamy for my dick. Is that okay, sweetheart?” He massages circles into your clit with his thumb, looking up at you from between your thighs. 

“Yes,” you whine, trembling with arousal.  

“Good girl,” he says again, and you realize how fucking sexy it is when he praises you like this. “Can I finger you too?” 

“Oh god, yes,” you moan, growing impatient, needy for whatever he’s willing to offer you. 

With his lips latched to your clit, he teases your entrance with his middle finger, slowly sliding deeper until he bottoms out. He adds another digit, pumping inside you while he sucks on your bud, tongue swirling around it. You rock your hips against his face, greedy for more. Todo hums, encouraging you, the vibrations spurring you on until it’s too much. You come for him after a few more strokes, gushing all over his face. You reach down to grab his hair, trying to pry him off you, but he’s obviously way stronger and more resilient. “One more,” he muffles, chin shiny with your slick, his tongue flicking your clit. “For me.” He flashes you a cocky smirk that makes him even more impossible to deny.

You throw your head back into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling, hazy-eyed from the pleasure. The squelch of his fingers in and out of your wet cunt is obscene, combined with the shameless moans pouring out of you. After your second climax, or maybe it’s the third (you’ve lost count), he finally eases off you, slurping his digits clean to swallow up your juices. “You’re doing so good for me, pretty girl.” He strokes his cock in his fist, tapping the glistening head on your swollen clit. “It’s going to feel fucking amazing.”

You hum, the only response you can muster in this fucked-out state. 

“How do you want it, sweetie?” He lifts you off the bed, having you straddle his lap. “You want to ride me?” 

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder, yearning for anything. “Yes.”

“Fuck yeah,” he growls, slapping your ass before guiding his cock into your slippery cunt. You gasp, astonished by the extraordinary girth of him filling you up to the hilt. “You’re swallowing me up.” He spreads your cheeks apart, squeezing your ass in his grip. “That’s my girl.”

You gaze at him, pressing your forehead to his, sticky with sweat. “Fuck me,” you whimper, kissing him fiercely, completely enraptured by him.

He does, bouncing you on his lap, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you’re unraveling for him once more. “Told you, didn’t I? Told you I’d make it worth your while.”

Whatever semblance of rationale you had is gone. All you can think of is Todo’s manhandling you like a fucking rag doll, pliable and yielding to his every touch. Before you reconsider it, you spout the words, “Breed me,” wishing nothing more but to have his hot load leaking out of your cunt.

As if he wasn’t already feral enough, he most certainly is now, planting his feet on the bed to fuck up into you faster and harder. “That’s what you really want? You want my fucking seed in you? Oh fuck. I’ll give it to you, then. I’ll give it to you so fucking good.”

It happens quickly; you’re on your back again, folded nearly in half, knees to your chest, Todo fucking you in a mating press like his goddamn life depends on it. The mattress creaks noisily with each savage thrust he delivers. Sweat drips from his face onto yours as you kiss each other passionately, his massive body surrounding you as he floods your womb with his cum. “Fuck, milk it all out of me baby. That’s it. That’s my girl.”

You stay like this for a moment, allowing yourselves to catch you breaths and cool down. This really was a workout. Todo takes his time, reluctantly pulling out and watching his cum ooze out of you. 

“I can’t believe we did that,” you sigh, hiding your face in the pillow.

He gets comfortable beside you, giving you a smooch on the forehead. “Honestly, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

“Really?” You look at him, cupping his cheek gently, wiping the perspiration off his brow with your thumb. 

He smiles, nuzzling into your palm. “Yeah.”

“Then maybe we should make this a regular thing,” you suggest as you snuggle into his arms. 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he agrees, embracing you.

And just like that, you have yourself a new and very, very personal trainer. 

[drvoos]

can you please do Bruce Wayne x reader where the reader has a bad day or something happens to where he comforts them? thank you !!

(meant for pattinsons bruce)

gotham was known for its busy and crowded streets. people from all over would flood the side walks as they bustled from one place to another. while this isn’t normally a problem for you — today was the exception.

it had started when you woke up ten minutes late for work. while your boss wouldn’t necessarily kill you for it, the disappointment was still there from your failure to wake up on time. just the idea made you want to cry as you got ready for the day.

then the bus you always rode broke down. alfred has offered multiple times to drive you to your work place, yet you turned him down everytime. it was a decent drive from your place to wayne manor and that poor guy already had enough on his plate being the butler of bruce wayne.

when you had eventually shown up to your job you were immediately thrown into a whirlpool of work. being apart of gothams biggest crime unit usually merited tons and tons of work, whether that being on paper or in the field. this day however — thank god — included only writing thousands and thousands of reports. at least it wasn’t visiting a homicide for the fifth time of the week.

the giant fixture of wayne manor stared down at your car from up above, a reminder that you were almost done. almost home and safe in the arms of the man who was your shield. the tunnel leading into bruce’s workshop was long and dark, your cars growls bouncing off of the walls. he knew you were here before you even pulled into the main garage. putting your car in park you smiled. there bruce was, hunched over his workbench watching whatever tape he had gotten from his contacts.

“so, how was it?” your tired voice asked, gently shutting your car door as you figured he had a headache. he didn’t answer you at first, focused on rewinding the tape to review a clip of him analyzing evidence.

“quiet.” you hummed, finally reaching his side. that was when bruce finally got a good look at you. you probably looked a mess. tired, sunken eyes squinting at the bright light of his monitor. hair tousled and a bit greasy from how often you nervously were playing with your hair. he reached out, tucking a piece behind your ear and out of your face. sighing you turned to him with a smile.

“let’s go upstairs. i just want to lay down for a bit.” bruce didn’t answer you, instead taking your face in both of his hands. you knew then that all of your worry’s were going to be gone.

(this is really rushed i’m sorry lol)

[tooquirkytolose]

Scanned print ads of the reanimating potion Resuscitate, dating 1911, 1943 and 1970

Once a household name, Resuscitate faced joint lawsuits from United Ghouls of America and the American Zombies Association in 1981, and the company filed for bankruptcy shortly thereafter. It can still be found overseas under the brand name REwind (at half the strength)

[greynatomy]

princess

leah williamson x reader

i’ve had this idea for a while, and just now finished it. i don’t really know too much about the royal family, but this is all make believe (shocking right?). i like how this turned out. hope you do too.

let me know what you think!

-grey

———

Princess Y/N Leaves Royal Family

Princess Y/N leaves The Royal Family to “pursue other opportunities” states one of the Royal Family’s secretaries.

This all came as a bit of a shock to the people of England as she was very involved in all of her Royal Family duties.

Once more information comes out, we will be sure to inform you.

———

That was a couple of years ago. It was now 2023, six years after your departure from the Royal Family. No one has seen or heard from you in years, a public sighting every now and then, but that was very rare.

What the public didn’t catch was you in the stands of the Women’s Super League match between Arsenal and Manchester United.

You were sporting an Arsenal jersey with a hat and sunglasses to minimize any recognition even if it’s been a while since having people follow your every move. You had a toddler squirming in his seat, waiting as patiently as he could for the match to start and a eight-month-old strapped to your chest carrier.

The match started a couple minutes ago, but at the eleventh minute mark, Leah Williamson goes down, you quickly jumping up from your seat.

“What happened to Mama?” You son asks you.

“I don’t know sweetie.”

“She ‘kay?”

“Mama’s strong. She okay.”

As she’s getting checks out on the field, you grab your son’s had and make your way to the tunnel, your other hand supporting the back of your sleeping daughter’s head.

You get to the tunnel right as Leah was being helped to make her way into the tunnel. You stay in the back to wait for her, but your son had other ideas.

“Mama! You ‘kay? You hurt?” He asks, frantically, missing the ‘r’ when he says ‘hurt’.

“Cade! Get back here.”

Leah waves you off, saying ‘it’s alright,’ relaxing you a bit.

You go up to her and wrap your arm around her waist, her going around your shoulder to help take some of her weight for her.

Viewers at home are watching with heartbreak to see the captain being subbed off.

“… You know your own body. So the change is made. Williamson is off. Gio is on. And that will necessitate a little reshuffle in terms of the back because Gio is an attacking player…”

———

liked by leahfan1, leahfan2 and 5,937 others

leahupdates idk if it’s just me but doesn’t that person look so much like princess y/n?

view all comments

leahfan1 i was just thinking that when i watched it

↳ leahfan2 i had to rewind it but it really does look like the princess

leahfan3 we haven’t seen or heard from princess y/n in years and she pops up on the telly with leah williamson

———

“What did the doctor say?” You ask your wife as she lays in the hospital bed.

“It’s my ACL. They need to do surgery.”

“Oh, baby.” You lift her hand, littering the back of it with kisses, resting it on your cheek after. “When’s the surgery?”

“I wanna do it as soon as possible so in like two days.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Leah puckers her lift, wanting a kiss. You get up from your seat, leaning over her.

“I love you.” She mumbles against your lips, smiling when you say it back.

———

liked by leahfan1, christenpress and 279,634 others

leahwilliamsonn 🤍

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alessiarusso99 ❤️❤️❤️

leahfan7 i hope u have an amazing recovery

leahupdates I KNEW IT! ITS PRINCESS Y/N

↳ leahfan1 leah literally married a princess

↳ leahfan3 AND THEY HAVE KIDS!!!! I REPEAT: THEY HAVE KIDS AJCYDJRNC

↳ leahfan2 my little gay heart👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

leahfan9 this is so CAYUTE. literally no one saw this coming. GET WELL SOON LEAH!❤️

[shnowyfox]

stuff from today

it was supposed to be a firrib/fibrir joke and a detective genre spoof just to help me practice some shading, but i accidentally made it angst. an au where Soundwave goes missing and without him, perhaps without his help to rewind them or fuel them.. they're loosing their function. Soundwave is critical to the whole operation of course, so everyone's kind of doing their part to find him. Frenzy and Rumble are continuing Soundwave's duties as communications officer, Ravage, Buzzsaw, and Laserbeak continuing his spy work.. well, until Buzzsaw gets locked into his alt mode.. Which one is on the shoulders of the other? I think I initially intended it to be Rumble but as the comic is MEANT to be monochromatic, the punchline was "Man, even I can't tell which of us is which this comic is uncolored!" It really can be either as at this point they're around the same state mentally. Their colors I kind of headcanon even with soundwave around have the ability to swap, i just find it funny, they do it on purpose to mess with everyone. now the colors are blending, the blue getting warmer and red getting cooler. I think they really don't like being seperated right now, to a point that it might physically pull on their twin spark bond and cause them distress or even pain. Ravage is I think holding the whole unit together but they aren't faring well either. Soundwave I think is either powered down on earth and had been misplaced greately from his last known coordinates, an autobot prisoner (unlikely, girliepop could probably break out easy no sweat), or in space lost in a storm or something thats causing his comms to be down. I considered he might be dead, but I feel like even galaxies apart, the cassettes would be able to feel it, they would know. 00500 is meant to be Starscream, 90700 is meant to be really any decepticon but my mind keeps going back to Scrapper idk why he'd give a frag about starscream's well being though, 00600 is meant to be skywarp, 11503 is rumble/frenzy whichever you think is manning comms rn.

I think eventually they started teaching humans about autobot biology and first aid (hehe) before they died in 05, by that point I think the autobots and humans trusted each other enough for such a thing to be shared. They're doing their best but theres many MANY bloopers

bees

EM fields. Panic attack. POV you and your ex who killed you/you killed get locked into battle and you have to look at each other's faces. and of course. POV your ugly son finally lands himself a boyfriend

[mewguca]

Best Friends Forever! I love making AUs to put them into Situations

Paths Left Untaken by @fauxbia

( font is from crystaluranium in the RW Official Discord, which references a tumblr post by ikayblythe )

bonus doodles and some explanations for the concept under the cut

Paths Left Untaken is like, extremely ultra mega-doomed. Like... my god does that Iterator suffer in so many situations lol. in this specific AU, to save Paths from her structural collapse (which shall be slow and painful and horrible for everyone really), Paths has been off-stringed into a MIP Unit (like what SLS is yay!!) what matters is that she's mobile now and has been reduced to a fraction of her former self against her will won't collapse or decay any time soon!! After all it's a lot easier to sustain a puppet than a structure

additionally echo SLS is back and she has a savior complex so she's breaking reality to rewind time over and over again because she does not have the power to stop the (metaphorical) Wheel entirely, so this is the next best thing! She'll stop resetting things once everything is perfect for everyone, which will Definitely Totally Happen and she's not doomed ahahaha.

I really like their friendship a lot if you couldn't tell. also TLSPTS mention

btw, the glyph text says "Be not afraid." and "I will save you." Wooooo!!! its hard to tell because the doodle is so messy but she has six wings which is a reference to seraphim because i like angelic imagery a little bit

[ryansbedroom]

BP 'Transforming Truck' TVC - Side By Side Comparison between the Original US and International Versions!

[luwuley]

Ekko please if you can hear me please rewind time Ekko please if you can hear me now bring my family back together and unite the underground.

[its-hitoshi]

sevika and her gut instincts

you'd say at the end of season 2, sevika, in a way, won. she didn't die -- only lost an arm while finally uniting zaun in some capacity, and becoming its representative to piltover.

sevika has always trusted her gut. it's never led her wrong. however just because she trusts it doesn't mean she's listened all the time

tw: disordered eating, emetophobia

luckily for her parents, sevika was never a sickly child. though the Grey affected her, as it did everyone in zaun, sevika never had a cold that lasted too long. never had blood or grey tints in the phlegm coughed up. what she always had problems with, however, was her stomach. it started when she was small -- when her parents started arguing. though she'll never admit it, one of her first memories is curling up against the leg of the family dinner table -- shoddy and rough with future splinters -- as her parents shouted at each other. now sevika knows that the rent was going up despite wages the piltie owners meted up stayed steadily low. whether that was a result of their zaunite proxy being greedy or the pilties being out of their goddamn mines, sevika still doesn't know. she'll say her stomach hurt from hunger -- which wasn't a lie. but she's long forgotten the stress her tiny body felt as her parents' voices warred against each other. she shrank smaller and smaller until all the stress could go was to her center -- her stomach. it ached.

as she grew older, the same story rewinded. hunger. anger. ache.

when she grew of age, finally, to bleed, it hurt so bad. her parents didn't want her to, but she worked in the mines. it was safer to work than to play and be stolen away, after all. organs were needed in piltover. extra workers were needed in mines that were known to have even worse conditions than this one. she worked and worked and worked through the pain -- swung her pickaxe into the rock. shimmied her way through tunnels far too small for the her of today to fit both arms (metal and flesh) into.

black dust tints whatever she coughs up now. it's like a rite of passage, spitting grey onto the already stained streets. it was only when she was walking home did she feel the warmth between her legs. how it felt wrong, like a knife slowly shoving into her despite how she knows something is coming out. it was the beginning of the last times when she hugged her mother, who explained to her quietly that she was growing up now. she's turning into a woman. it's normal. it'll hurt, but that'll go away (she'll get used to it. she won't bleed very often, especially if there's not enough for her to eat... her mother's heard of the layoffs coming up in the next few weeks. this is their only blessing)

sevika is sixteen when her mother dies. her mother's hope was right. her bleeding came and went. sometimes after one month, sometimes after nine. in time, sevika would realize her body always gave her a warning, as she woke up with her gut cramping up. she can't eat the day she finds out her mother has died. it was a cave-in. it killed all 26 workers of that tunnel. sevika had been in the next one over. her mouth is dry, yet she doesn't get a glass of water. doesn't want any despite how lucky she is to live in a miner's house, one of the few types of houses in zaun that have running water.

the funeral happens quickly. sevika's father says, abruptly, that they need to burn her mother. it's part of her culture. sevika wonders what this culture is -- still does. she was never taught. all her mother ever told her was that her name means servant of god in the language of her mother's homeland. well, the homeland of her mother's mother. she never learned much either. simply bits and pieces of the language. as she breathes in the smoke from the fire, feels its warmth, she wonders when was the last time her mother held her. maybe this was one last goodbye.

the first meal she has after that whole ordeal -- when was the last time she had eaten? 48 hours? 72? maybe more? -- sevika throws up. her father realized at some point that they should eat. he left once he gobbled up what amount was on his plate. left only enough money for their upcoming rent. sevika, instead, ran and threw up outside the house. all she can think of as she stares at the barely digested food is what a waste of money.

her father comes back, reeking of alcohol. the scent stings her nose. sevika has seen the way the winds blow. janna's protection could only last so long for the children of zaun. her luck's run out.

without her mother, the work needed to meet the rent has only gone up. her father's drinking doesn't help either. sevika finds it easier on the body to simply not eat as much rather than take up even more extra shifts. in her free time, she steals. piltover takes all their money -- them and their wannabe zaunite proxies in charge of the mines and and who want to be in charge the lanes because of piltover's greed -- it's only right that she takes some back.

her gut feels weird one day. doesn't hurt, just... weird. though she's seen that the streets are empty, sevika stays in her spot. she realizes she hadn't been aware enough as an enforcer stalks his way down the street where she would have landed.

she listens to this weird, odd feeling. it's somehow always right. it serves her well. she felt it as she walked away from vander. it was with her as finn's voice grated at her ears. what she doesn't listen to is how her stomach screams for sustenance, at times. sometimes food, sometimes for acknowledgement of hurt like it did the first time her father threw a beer bottle at her.

it's easier to drown out when she drinks -- just like her father did. perhaps that's what else she inherited from him. he used to say she was all her mother. all she had from him were her eyes.

smoking comes naturally to her -- what was there to worry about? her lungs shriveling like some silly piltie claimed would happen? it was a 'healthcare' campaign of some sort spearheaded by a rich, spoiled brat. whatever of her lungs the Grey and coal dust didn't already ruin deserved to be dusted with ash she decided to grace it with. (it numbs that ache in her stomach too, which somehow continues to hurt despite how old she's grown.)

her father's dead now -- she let his body float into the river. strapped a bottle of alcohol to his chest -- better quality than what she knows he'd usually drink some days she finds herself on the verge of vomiting even if she eats nothing that day. she doesn't waste her money frivolously at the bar. smokes cheap cigarettes filled with who knows what. she's met vander and silco. they're kind people. they share. she doesn't have to be hungry anymore. she steals enough to sustain herself as most of the money goes to rent. the rest to food, obviously. yet still, her stomach quietly aches.

[gamerwoman3d]

Please Be Bi-Han 🙏

🔞 An MK1 x Reader 🔞

Part 2a(i): Sub-Zero discovers F! Reader

PART ONE HERE

🔞 Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞

The men split up to look for you. Liu Kang with his glowing eyes was the first to pinpoint the real path you'd taken. He slid up next to the almost imperceptible crack in the marble floor, knelt and listened. From just under the floor in your coziest panic room, he could barely hear you whisper.

"Please be Bi-Han, please," he heard you say.

He smiled to himself. To him, it was cute that you wanted Bi-Han. He found you first, sure, but the others didn't need to know that.

He looked into the shadows where he thought Sub-Zero might lurk. He gave a nod that direction, and then concealed himself nearby, intending to let Sub-Zero "find" you and lay claim. It was important to Liu Kang that you be amenable to changing your ways- getting the thing you truly wanted would make you friendlier, he believed. But he also felt a great deal of compersion as the creator of this timeline; he enjoyed seeing people get what they desire so deeply, especially when they are his friends. In short, Liu Kang would feel less excited about claiming you for himself knowing that you wanted Sub-Zero for yourself as badly as Sub-Zero wanted you. But what would excite him greatly, is the energy he would feel from the both of you uniting.

Liu Kang truly thought he was the first to find you. Until he heard your muffled shriek, barely audible over Bi-Han’s gravely laughter, which if anything sounded like a tiger tearing open a cello.

"How did he get in there," Liu wondered aloud.

Rewind a bit.

You'd snuck to the kitchen where a marble door opens in the floor. It leads down to a pretty, hidden designer wine cellar which does double as a panic room as it is well hidden. You thought the only way in or out was through the hydraulic marble trapdoor; but Sub-Zero had proven that theory wrong.

Truth was you were holding a glass of a very fine beverage you'd decided to indulge in while waiting to be "caught."

The cellar lacked seating. Seating would have been a waste of space in this vault; several of the wines in your collection were worth more per ounce than gold. But the value stored within the vault was the reason the room was constructed to be so incredibly secure.  You perched yourself atop the curve of a secured, horizontal wine barrel, feet dangling over the edge of the hoop to kick against the lid.

The thought of how his muscles moved when he ripped the steel door handle apart replayed in your mind. As the memory washed over you, you kicked your legs out straight and hummed from the sensation of anticipation these thoughts brought you. 

This was exciting. You found yourself absentmindedly humping the curve of the barrel just to put some comforting pressure on your excited cunt. Realizing it felt good, you let yourself straddle the barrel, toes dangling above the floor on either side of the lid. You pushed yourself down to press into the seam of your pants as you thought about it. You rocked yourself back and forth, trying to self-soothe the growing excitement before it boiled over.

“Please, please please be Bi-Han,” you muttered to yourself.

You swear you heard him chuckle from somewhere among the wine. You knew these men could be sneaky - they were ninjas, after all. You wondered if you'd hear them coming at all. The chuckle must have been your imagination.

You couldn't tell the red wines from the white any longer without putting the bottle up to the glow of your phone. This dark, the colors at a short distance all faded to blues and grays and blacks.

Then you saw something man-shaped in the dark. You illuminated it with your shaky phone flashlight, only to discover it was just a hoodie laid across a wine barrel at an odd angle.

“UGH. I wanted you to be Bi-Han,” you grumped.

This time the laugh was undeniably real. You didn't bother to question how he got in, you were simply shocked that the trapdoor never opened after you first shut it behind you. You turned and saw a man shape - different this time, undeniably male, large, and moving. The color of his ninja uniform faded to the same bluish gray as the other wines in the dark cellar.  You hoped this time it was really Bi-Han, but you had to brace yourself. You knew that without seeing the color of the uniform, it could be Smoke, or even Scorpion.

“Cute,” the gravelly voice said, “Cute, rich, calling my name all alone in the dark, aching for me, and all mine? Not to mention able to manipulate the global economy at a whim. I must be dreaming.” 

His voice alone had gotten you wet. You knew it was him. You wanted to run to him.

“Bi-Han!” you gasped.

He strode up to you, stopping when his hips hovered above the hoop of the barrel. He wrapped an arm around the small of your back and pulled you. His other hand went to his face to pull away his mask. You slid forward, into his arms, where he kissed you gently. Your legs wrapped around him and you squeezed, keening into the kiss.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he said.

You started to undress. You wanted to flash him. He held your shirt closed.

“Leave that on unless you want my brothers to find you naked. I can take you someplace they'll never find you. Not even Liu Kang could find you,” he purred against your neck.

He slipped the pads of three of his fingertips between the barrel and your clothed cunt.  He rubbed long firm strokes along the mound before gripping it lightly. He alternated between the stroking and the squeezing while he licked and suckled the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“I bet you're going nuts right now,” he said, “so let me ask, where did you learn my name, to call it out so sweetly?”

You felt prepared to pop. You tried to hump him dry, but his fingers on your seam held you back by the pussy.

“I know about you from… ungh oh god please… from another timeline. Mmm… yes… fuck… yes… It isn't important, Bi-Han, please fuck me,” you said.

“No. You would like that too much. I'm not going to fuck you until everything in this house is legally mine.”

“What?”

“You're gonna marry me. You're going to sign over all your assets, and I'm going to keep you, forever. You're mine. And there is not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Next Part:

Part 3a(i): Sub-Zero toys with F! Reader

[eris-snow]

13. 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐨𝐱

Tags: bakugoux fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst,fluff, falling in love, playing piano together

13 is an unlucky number.

20th April

There’s streamers on the ground and balloons on the ceiling. All it takes is for Katsuki to hear the confetti poppers release to realise—Oh, shit, it’s my fucking birthday.

There’s a cake Sato’s made and the class settles on the plush sofas for a movie night, but not before they bury him with his presents big and small. A year ago, he never thought he’d be able to get to where he was today a whole. Two years ago, he got his physical and mental wellbeing fucked up and almost died in war.

Katsuki looks at the candles and blows out all 18 of them, a wish caught between his lips and windpipe. When Denki and Mina pester him about it, he waves them off and tells them to die. Wishes don’t come true if you share them, after all.

I hope you will be at my birthday next year.

I wish to break Reset, wish you could be seen.

Wish I could save you.

—

There’s a knock on the door as Katsuki hollers to answer. The only thing that greets his eyes is a present wrapped neatly in the same shade of canary yellow your cord is. Shredding the wrapping paper, he’s greeted by a mini Venus flytrap as a note that falls out.

Katsuki picks the paper up and unfolds it with an inkling of who it might be from. The handwriting is shit but legible.

Happy birthday, Bakugou. Rmb to give it lots of sunlight and feed it live insects. If you can’t keep it alive for a year, you owe me 1000 yen and your thumbs.

–

Katsuki digs up the score sheet Eijiro found and reads over it again.

‘Nuvole Bianche—Duet version.’

One of the scores your professor gave him, probably. The yellow cord dances around it playfully, coiling around his finger and tugging him to the hall.

“No.” He scolds.

The string unwinds, rewinds, and circles the score, determined and unwilling to take no for an answer.

“Fuck off, would you?” He groans, flopping against his bed. After his last outburst in front of you, he’s just—he just can’t face you. His palms get sweaty and there’s a flush on his face and he can’t control his stupid heart rate. It’s not normal, and part of him has a creeping suspicion as to why.

He eyes the score again and then exhales. Katsuki can’t ignore you forever, and heroes aren’t wimps, so he grabs the score and opens his balcony window.

It hurts to be near you, but it hurts even more to stay away.

—

Katsuki wrenches open the curtains to see you playing the piano. The cord wraps around you and the instrument, sleek and black and so goddamn shiny. It seems like you’ve taken a liking to his jacket, because that’s all he ever sees you wear now. It’s grey, lint-covered fabric resting comfortably on your shoulders.

With slacks, a messy bun, thin-rimmed glasses and earpods, it seems like you were back to transcribing another song. Figures, because when you look at him and upturn your lips, his brain stutters.

“Hey.” Your eyes flicker from his face to the scoresheet in his hands. “Whatcha got there?”

Katsuki’s mind goes uhh, and he answers. “Found this in the box we got from the storage unit. Recognise it?”

Your eyes light up like stars on Christmas Eve (stars?). “So you had it!” You squeal, taking it out of his hands gingerly and smoothing it out. “I thought I lost it, or…or threw it away—”

“Slow down, blabbermouth, what the hell are you talking about?!”

You flip it to him, giving him the stupidest fucking grin he’s ever seen.

“It’s our duet!”

Katsuki looks at you like you’ve been catapulted out of a UFO.

“When we were younger, we used to play these duet pieces our professor gave us. Got bored of playing the standard ones and decided to write a duet of a song we actually liked.” Fake smiles and trembling fingers, fuck no, he refuses to make you sad now.

“We wrote a duet of Nuvole Bianche by ourselves?”

“Yeah.”

Katsuki gives you a hard stare.

“…Sensei might have helped out a little.” More staring.

“A lot.”

Silence.

You pat the piano seat and avoid eye contact. “You wanna try?”

“You’re funny, now scoot over.”

—

“Thanks for the plant, by the way.”

“Oooh, you got it? What are you gonna name it? Snappy? Chomper—?”

“The hell? I’m not gonna name it—!”

“I got it! Sir Traps-a-lot!”

“I will start eating humans if you name my plant that.”

“Aw, cannibalism.”

—

Katsuki doesn’t know what to call this. This thing he does where he draws open the curtain, gets invited to sit beside you with the sweetest smile, and relearns music notion. It may have been years since he last touched the keys, but memory lies in practice, so he picks it up after one or two days off you teaching him how to play.

See the unseen, find what has been lost.

How is he supposed to get his memories back through the power of music and friendship?

Still, honing talent takes time, and it’s time he hasn’t invested. He’s nowhere near as good as he used to be.

“You’re getting better.” You intone, staring at the way his fingers fly across the board. (It’s not fair, he’s good at everything he does.)

“You’re faster,” he grumbles. “You have a better ear for how a piece should be played too.”

“Aw, praise from the half-deaf prodigy. I’m honoured.”

He flips you off, but it’s worth it when he hears you cover your mouth and giggle like a maniac.

“Wait till I surpass you,” He mumbles, hiding his face.

His neck is burning, and he wonders why.

—

The month of May comes and goes, but you seem happier than you’ve ever been. It makes Katsuki puff up with pride, because, the grin you have on your face and the beautiful music you make is all because of him.

—

30 June

“Look, you may be damn close to being a ghost, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes.

This again.

Katsuki’s been on your case about skipping meals, but he doesn’t understand the sheer difficulty of eating meals. Meals require interactions, require you to go up to a counter and order, and if there is any possible way to reduce the constant reminder of being overlooked as possible, you’d take it.

“I’m eating.” You protest. “You don’t have to see it to know.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, obviously disagreeing, but he doesn’t go on about it.

The next day, as Class 3A passes yours during assembly dismissal, a bento is shoved into your hands, wrapped meticulously which contains the warm plastic container it’s in. You take a sneak peek in it and find egg rolls stacked neatly against carefully cooked chicken and fluffy white rice.

You look up and glance around, before finding Katsuki’s frame as he talks to Eijiro with hands shoved into his pockets.

On it, is a Post-it written with surprisingly neat handwriting.

Eat it, dork. I made it myself.

He’s making it too difficult to sweep your feelings under the carpet.

—

The last time Katsuki made you a meal was 3 years ago.

He did it for a month or so before Reset occurred, and that month was the same month you fell for him.

Wishful thinking tells you that Katsuki was falling in love with you too.

Some people fall head over heels. You got shoved into a hole and never made it out.

But now, it means something else entirely. Getting food was one of the biggest challenges since you get ignored so much. And now that it was getting worse, it was flat-out impossible to reach Katsuki’s standard of three meals a day unless you were to become a criminal.

To get the attention of someone and retain it long enough to get what you wanted…sometimes, it was better to starve.

The last time someone cooked for you, was your last family dinner 4 years ago.

To receive food cooked just for you makes your cheeks warm in appreciation as you bring it to your chest with a stupid grin on your face.

He made it for me.

You really need to stop doing this to yourself.

—

The bell rings and you’re off like a bullet.

You couldn’t wait to eat, and you could only imagine just how it tasted like.

Mine mine mine, you made it for me, just like old times, thank you, thank you, thank—

You trip over a step, and catch yourself before you fall. Eyes trace your table, and your lips pull into a frown.

It’s not there. You dig in your bag and survey your surroundings—nothing.

This isn’t fair. You see your class monitor standing by the whiteboard, mustering the courage to speak to him because no, you couldn’t lose this. Not when Katsuki made it for you.

“Hey, did you see my bento?”

He ignores you (of course), and it takes another 5 attempts and a yell to get his attention.

“Oh, you mean that plastic container?” He clarifies.

He takes in your vigorous head nodding with a monotone expression.

“I trashed it. It was sitting at the back of the classroom, rotting. No one in the class claimed it.”

I trashed it.

Confusion melts to disbelief as your expression twists to one of horror.

I trashed it. The words echo tauntingly. He says it so casually, too.

No, no, no, it’s not fair, it’s not—

“That was mine!” Your voice sounds as rough as cement, choked up and ruined.

The class monitor’s expression is listless, almost bored. “Oh, is that so?”

Anguished silence fills the room. Unbelievable.

“There was food in there—” You’re getting desperate, because how could you lose something just like that?

“Why would you throw away that? You couldn’t have—you must have noticed—!”

That pause was a fatal step, because you’re about as interesting as a house plant. His eyes are locked on something else, and you watch the familiar confusion settle in his eyes before he glances around and shakes his head.

“No, no, no—come on, listen to me—!” You try to grab his arm as he turns to walk away, but to your utter dismay and complete shock, it passes through his hand as if nothing existed there at all.

In all the three years of Reset, no matter how overlooked, how ignored, how invisible you were, that has never happened to you before.

Your feet feel numb. Your body feels numb.

Even as the lights get switched off, you stand rooted to the spot, as fear swallows you a whole.

All that’s left is the ticking of the clock, making you every bit more aware of how fast the seconds are passing you by.

You don’t have much time left.

You find your bento in a big, black rubbish bin nestled between the toilets and the water cooler. Rice spewed, egg rolls crushed, and chopsticks splintered.

—

The next time Katsuki sees you, you’re staring at your arm like it’s alien to you.

Something isn’t fucking right.

He’d expected a thank you, starry eyes like the way they lit up before when you surveyed the contents of his bento. He didn’t expect you to look just a little more…dead inside.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands.

“My bento got trashed.” You reply tonelessly. “And my hand…passed through someone.”

“Excuse you?”

“I’m not fucking joking, Bakugou.” You show him your hand, and curl up a little more. “It’s fine now, I’m fine now.”

“Stop saying that, idiot.”

“But I am!” You shout, voice rising. “And the thing I’m more upset about…is…” You look up at him, eyes burning with regret and sorrow.

“I didn’t get to eat your bento.”

Katsuki’s heart shrivels up inside.

“You worked so hard on it, only for it to get thrown away. I’m sorry.”

He lets out a loud sigh, and sits beside you. “You’re fading away, and you have the nerve to be sorry for a fucking bento?”

“It looked like a tasty bento.”

“It’s dead, and you’re not.” He growls, eyebrows knitting together. “I’ll make you another one, okay? One that’ll blow you out of the park. Then we can meet here and eat it together, so I get to see your face while you consume the best fucking curry in the world. After that, we locate the piano to play our stupid duet on, and save you. Quit sulking.”

Your eyes snap up to him, a glare searing his face. Much better.

“I’m not sulking.”

Katsuki folds his arms, and you avert your eyes.

“Can you make egg rolls too?”

He slumps down beside you, exhaling. Success.

“Yes, I’ll make you your stupid egg rolls, Sunshine.”

139 Days Until Death.

-----

Taglist:

@genderfluid-anime-goth