#other than that its FUCKIN SCARY

[katkalis-the-horror-fanartist]

Commission for @hopusthebrainlessfloof!! Thank you so much for commissioning me!! It was a good one...Good luck on that mutilation table 😳🙏

[sluckythewizard]

THEY could give me the surgurey i need (inspired alot by evojellys designs for em. GREAT STUFF)

[lovelyrotter]

yknow i love transmasc/tboy dirk always and forever but the way some ppl treat transmascness vs transfemmeness in HS's narrative........kinda sucks. like the whole thing about how being transfeminine is a literal transient experience and lets the character in question (any character) truly escape the oppression of HS's narrative-as-a-character which is patriarchal and toxic (lord english, hussie-the-character to an extent. i guess. idk ive seen a lotta ppl lump SI-hussie in w/ this), which is great and does hold weight as an analytical lens esp with how hussie irl is nonbinary. but where does this leave transmasc characters. why are we treating (headcanoned) transfemme HS characters like this and then tbh gleefully dooming (headcanoned) transmasc characters to eternal narrative suffering brought by LE and then mocking them for being ''gross tboys'' full of ''icky testorerone'' so its their fault theyre in this perpetual torment really? because they ''''chose to be a man''''? dunno man its starting to feel bad. especially since some bnf's who are really into this fan theory do actually kinda treat the general idea of transmasculinity like somthing to hold with tongs at arms length away from them. as if its alien or infectous or something and then get really mad when equally dysphoric transmascs do the same with feminity. why are we dooming dirk strider to eternal toxic-masculine suffering and what does that say about how we treat real life transmasc folks both in and outside of the fandom

[toytulini]

i dont want to give in to Modern Shapewear but i really hate when im trying to have a Fun Outfit and theres fucking Distinct Lines from various under wear bands (bra, undies, maybe a pair of tights?) all at separate points? that are impossible to hide bc the outer wear is fucking form fitting spandex

[fluffs-place]

Blep

[snekdood]

any time ive been scared or paranoid about something and ppl dismissed me bc of my past but i ended up being right- those ppl owe me 100 dollars.

[themindelectricdemo4]

Okay sorry I thought my heart fucking exploded this morning and I literally felt it was swish around and shit oh yeah did I forget to mention I haven't slept in 2 full days and eaten in 24 (this has since been fixed)

[stargirlrchive]

simon getting jealous over another coworker flirting with his work wife ? 👀

i had tew much fun writing this lmao

one — two — three — four

you don’t know how it happened, one second there was a recruit standing before you, and in the next you were shoved against the stretcher, tactical pants and panties pooled between your legs as simon bent you over to fuck his thick cock into you.

well—you do know how it happened, but it was so quick it left you dizzy.

anderson had been brought in by two other recruits, limping and grunting as they plopped him onto the medical bed. a deep gash on his upper thigh from one of the other recruits knicking his skin during practice.

it was deep, and angry—your fingers itching to patch him up as you ripped open a bigger hole on his tactical pants to get the wound cleaned. “you shouldn’t have let it get this far, anderson.”

“it’s sanders.”

you blinked up at him, a small frown on your lips, “pardon?”

“it’s sanders—not anderson.”

heat bloomed on your cheeks, the newest batch of recruits had been here for four months already and you were positive you’d only ever addressed him incorrectly. you cleared your throat, embarrassed. “i’m sorry—”

“it’s no big deal, i’m sure you can make up for it.”

your nerves flared as he cut you off, at what the grimy smirk on his face was insinuating. you couldn’t hold back the grimace on your face as you worked on patching him up and getting him out of your work space.

through the annoyance and blood pumping in your ears, you missed the big bulk of your lieutenant sliding into your space.

sander’s voice dropped lower, in what you assumed was his way of being seductive, “don’t be like that, honey.”

you forced yourself to not be overly rough with the way you were cleaning the gash on his thigh, fingers working methodically on his wound.

“i can show you a real good time.” and then his fingers were threading through your hair, the shock causing you to jostle as he tangled his fingers in the root of your hair to tug your neck upwards.

your heart pumped in anger, ready to yell at him to fuck off—to not fucking touch you. but simon beat you to it.

“get y’r fucking hands off my wife.”

the growl in simon’s voice had you tensing yet melting at the same time. shivers running down your back and heat coiling in your belly.

sanders scrambled upwards, back tense and eyes wide. you stumbled backwards, simon steadying you by placing a thick hand on your waist and pulling you to him.

“lieutenant riley—i had no idea, she didn’t-i didn’t know she was your wife.”

simon’s chest was practically vibrating with his anger, snarling down at the man in front of you like a rabid dog. heat bloomed between your thighs, clit aching at his proximity, at the way he protected you.

“i d’nt give two fucks what you know—get the fuck out of here.”

you had never seen someone leave your quarters faster, sanders left running like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.

your body sagged into simon’s, relief filling you from the inside out as his fingers trailed over you. searching.

“you alright, sweetheart?”

you nod, heart thrumming and trying to wrap your head around what happened, “i need words, baby. talk to me. did he—did he do anything, touch you more than he did—”

you turned in his arms, face burying into his chest to breathe in his scent. “m’fine, he didn’t-i just can’t believe he had the nerve.”

simon’s eyes raked over you behind his skull mask. assessing, trying to make sure you really were alright. “i’m fine, simon. i swear. and feeling so much better because you’re here.”

he took a few more seconds to look you over, calloused finger gripping your throat gently and rubbing his gloved thumb over your jaw.

“almost fuckin’ killed him f’r touching you.”

a small laughed bubbled in your throat, leaning into him, “i’m almost positive he pissed himself. never seen you look so scary.”

his fingers loosened on your throat gently, “did i scare you?” his voice was awfully raw, almost vulnerable.

“no. thought it was hot, honestly.”

one of his fingers twitched gently, pressing into you more firmly and you felt his cock. hard and full against your belly as he walked the two of you backwards. “yeah?”

“mhm, would’ve let you bent me over right in front of him if he hadn’t run off.”

simon’s rough voice caused heat to coil in your belly as he turned you over. pressing your back down to bend you over as his cock pressed against your ass, “m’not someone who likes to share, sweetheart.”

your back arched into him, pressing your ass harder against his cock before he pinned your back down with a heavy palm and used his other one to unbutton your pants. “think you need to make that clear for everyone else then.”

[tmblrog]

american gothic makes me Feel something

[chrolloluvr]

May you please write Mammon x reader smut. Where the reader is short and has a size difference kink. If you do I give many thanks in advance (Seriously love this blog so much)

♡ Mammon w/ A Size Kink ♡

Note: AHHH TYSM BOOKIE!!! Also yes this has been on my mind for so long... and I have not made a proper NSFW fic yet until now. So here you go! (alot more NSFW coming soon, especially for this man...) So here are my thoughts! Also sorry if its a bit short...

AFAB, Female!Reader

Warnings: Size kink, belly bulge, penetration, overstimulation, size transformation, oral (female and male receiving) ★

The height difference makes him feral. He is at least a couple feet taller than you. So he likes to use this to his advantage. By manhandling you. he will pick you up, grab your waist, literally rip your legs off of its hinges when he pulls them apart, etc. So, he likes when you are shorter than him. It gives him a power influx, and it makes him feel supreme to you. So he will basically use you like a glorified sex doll.

He will purposely make himself transform into a couple feet taller. Like a big, scary spider. So he can intimidate you, and get you riled up. He wont have actual penetrative sex with you in his big spider form, but he will eat you out.

And he delivers very well. His tongue is huge. You feel like your in cloud 9 whenever he eats your pussy, especially because he does not do it very often.

his favorite position, especially due to his size, is Full Nelson. He likes how in this position, he has complete control over you. With his upper hands behind your knees, his hips under your own, and his lower arms circling your sensitive clit, and his other hand pussy slapping you. Sometimes, he will place you in front of a big mirror, while hammering his hips into your vice, little pussy. Also making you look at yourself, being utterly destroyed by his large cock. He will tie your ankles together with his webs when he does this.

His other favorite is picking you up, and putting his hands under your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. He enjoys listening to the skin slapping sounds, and how lude they sound. And seeing your reactions to his every harsh thrust to your G-spot. And how especially cramped you are between his body, his cock, and his arms, with a tight grip on your ass. This position makes you more sensitive and vulnerable, which is just where he wants you.

Belly Bulge. Need I say more? It makes him laugh, and chuckle about how 'your gonna take it- fuck, yeah, you like that don't you- little fuckin' slut-'

It makes him realize just how large he is compared to you. How much he effects you and your body. He craves this kind of dominance over you.

He is a little bastard. When he sees you have a belly bulge from his constant plummeting, he will press down onto it. This, as he is well aware of, makes you see stars. You become a moaning, drooling, babbling mess under his large self. Which is what he wants, of course.

The sheer size of his dick. He cant help but feel aroused, when he compares you and his cock side by side. Every now and then, he will have you sat right behind it, while he holds you, and just admire how small you are. He has to prep you for your first time together, and even every single time you guys do have sex. Simply because of the size of it. And its not just long, its girthy too. So if you dont have some prep, he might end up abominating your poor womb.

He especially likes seeing you struggle, especially when you give him head. you can barely fit your mouth around it. Your jaw gets sore within literal seconds of putting his member in your mouth. So you have to use your hands (which also barely touch eachother), for the rest of his cock.

Overstimulating you. His favorite way of overstimulation you is with his arms and hands. He will have you trapped in between his legs. One of his lower arms will be fingering your supple core; the other one circling harshly around your clit. One of his upper hands holding your waist up; the other one toying with your breast and sensitive, puffy nipples.

He also likes overstimulating you, by having you cock warm him. Its one of his favorite past times. Especially when you two try to be sneaky, like during his pageants ontop of the webbing. (should I make a whole other post about this??) He just loves feeling the warmth of your pussy against his cold self. And he wont let you move. Like at all. Unless he grabs your hips and forcibly bounces you up and down, which is after a while of waiting of course.

Dirty talk. He loves making you feel smaller, so he will talk down upon you. Everything he calls you starts with 'my', because he is very possessive. things like "my slut", "my whore", "my princess", etc. He will never talk about you in a truly bad connotation. So he will say things like:

"You like being my little slut, yeah?"

"C'mon, you can take more. don't be a baby."

"yeahhhh. Takin' it like a fuckin' champ. Good fuckin' girl-"

"Oh fuck... shit just like that"

"Ohh yeah- thats some good shit."

"Dont you dare fuckin' move."

"You feelin' good princess? Yeah I bet you are. Fittin' me like a glove."

"Awww you want more? Your gonna have to wait a bit, m'kay?"

"You want it inside? Ya' want daddy to fill ya' up real nice?"

So overall, he favors when you are small and meek. Just be a good girl for him, and you wont have to worry about his intimidation, okay?

[yawnderu]

"Quit lookin' at me like that." He demands, accent growing thicker by the minute at his frustration.

"Like what?" You manage to gasp out, cheeks swollen and bloody at the beating you just took. Your hands are clasped together on your lap, forced to sir on your knees as you look up at him.

What stared back at you wasn't your loving Simon, no— this creature was much different. Ghost was glaring down at you, eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than pure, raw anger.

"Like a fuckin' lost puppy. Like you don't know what you did." His grip on the trigger tightens, holding the muzzle to your temple.

Please, tell me it isn't true. For the love of God, tell me it's all a lie.

"You leaked our information to fuckin' Konni?" He asks in disbelief, just wanting to confirm what he knew all along. It all connected once he found out; the late night escapades, the detached look in your eyes, how you kept missing every single celebration with the team claiming you were busy. Maybe if he noticed sooner, things would have been different.

Your silence and the way your head hangs low in shame is all the confirmation he needs. His gloved hand grips the pistol harder, the rough material almost merging with his skin.

You don't even have the courage to look at me.

"Everythin' we did together... I trusted you with my bloody life. I told you all my secrets and let you see all of me, and this is how you fuckin' pay me?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, three silenced gunshots ringing in his ears as he dumps the bullets into your chest, looking away before he hears the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.

Goddammit. God damn it all to fucking hell.

Simon chokes on a harsh breath, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown underneath his balaclava, jaw slackening. He doesn't dare look at you, unwilling to let his last image of you be a pool of blood with dead eyes.

He cried all his tears when he was a little kid, yet he can somehow feel the familiar sting in his eyes, causing him to sigh loudly and shake his head. His pistol goes back in its holster as he turned to leave, not sparing you a single glance.

Dying alone is a scary thought. You come to the world in a room full of people, your mother's happy face looking at her own creation, nurses and doctors smiling and celebrating you even when all your tiny body can do is to cry.

The thought of death isn't what scares you, no. Being a soldier for the special forces only ends two ways: retirement or going home in a box. That's something you came to terms with a long time ago, when your much younger hand held the pen, signing the contract that sold your soul to your comrades, a silent eternal promise of "we fight together, and we die together".

Your shaky hands grasp at the snow as you drag yourself forward, gear all of sudden heavier than ever; crushing you down like Atlas holding the sky. Your blood leaves a dirty trail on the pure, clean snow, marking you down as an easy target if Simon decides to come back for you— you know Ghost won't.

By the time someone manages to find you, your fingers are purple and your lips are painted an awful shade of blue, body adorned with burns from the cold snow digging into your bare skin. You allow yourself to rest as soon as the warmth of someone's hand makes contact with your skin, barely able to register the panicked scream and loud orders being barked.

Labeled as a hero after saving the country from Makarov's terrorist attack, Simon sported a new brand of chest candy on his uniform. Colorful ribbons adorned the right side of his blazer. His chest is still puffed out with pride as he steps into his small flat in London, all memories of you thrown away, including the ring he kept hidden in a drawer.

''Cute shoulder pads.'' Your finger hovers above the trigger, finally stepping out of the dark.

[cranberrv]

puppy love

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston isn’t scared of anything — or so you think!

( a/n: i love that its canon that dal is afraid of spiders, its too cute 😊 )

nothing scared dallas winston. you loved that about him. how manly he was, how he protected you and how safe you felt with a boy who’s only weakspot was you. you’d seen him punch a guy in the face just for asking for your number, and you’d seen him talk back to the police, with no fear of going to jail. you admired him for everything that might be taken as scary in other peoples minds.

you two were relaxing in your room, getting ready for bed. tonight was one of the lucky days where your parents let him sleep over. you have no idea how he charmed your parents so quickly, but you decide not to question it.

he’s fiddling with the stuffed animals that you’ve had since you’re a child — he loves making fun of you for keeping him. often, you get comments from him that start with “when i was in new york…” or “you keep stuffed animals and i help my friends get away with murder,” he just loves any excuse to prove he’s tougher than you. which is funny, because it’s blatanly obvious that he is. he’s sitting on your bed in his dirty leather jacket and gun in his lap, surrounded by pink duvet covers, makeup, and stuffies.

meanwhile, you’re fresh out of the shower in your pastel pink bath robe. you have a face mask on, and your body smells like strawberries because of your body lotion. you’re in the middle of blowdrying your hair, humming along to your lesley gore record, when you see a small spider on the bathroom mirror.

these were the times where you wish you weren’t such a wimp. i mean, look at your boyfriend! he’s not scared of anything, he wouldn’t physically jump at a harmless bug. you let out a squeal, backing away from the bug and dropping the hairdryer on the ground.

dally perks up at your squeal. “what’s wrong, doll?” he calls to you from your room.

you can’t believe you’re asking him for help to deal with this. “can you come in here?” you call back. and soon enough, the door creaks open and he walks in.

his inital thought of why you called him in here is that you want to make love. you look so beautiful, in your little robe and your wet hair. it seems like the perfect moment. but then he looks at your pretty face, your flushed cheeks and heavy breathing post-squeal. “what’s up with you?” he has to ask.

“spider,” you say softly, catching your breath as you go to stand behind him, away from the bug on the mirror. “it’s so gross and fat,”

“you’re afraid of a fat spider?” he has to chuckle. “c’mon, sweetie, you got your man to help y’with a bug?” he teases.

you sigh, and he goes to hold your hand, an assurance that he’s only joking. you say, “can you please be nice for one second and help me?”

“yeah, where is it?” he asks, and you point to the mirror. he steps closer, letting go of your hand as he goes to check it out. the minute he notices it, the spider moves closer to him, and he flinches. that’s the first time you’ve ever seen him flinch. “holy fuck,” he sighs, trying to stay composed. “that’s fuckin’ gross, doll,”

“i know,” you say softly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as you watch him. “can you kill it?”

“i— no. if you think i’m getting within a foot of this spider, you’re crazy,” he says, his voice stubborn.

“dallas,” you groan, looking up at him. “it won’t hurt you, so please?”

he can just barely find the strength to resist the pleading look in your eye. he’s looking at you with his gorgeous brown eyes, with clenched jaw, and you can see the hesitation in his eyes. but he shakes his head no. “no, y/n, just leave it in here. like y’said, it won’t hurt you. just let it live.”

“no, dallas, what if it comes into my room and climbs on my face in the middle of the night?” you ask. you’re exaggerating, obviously, but the thought still worries you.

“it won’t. you’ll be fine, baby,” he is really insistent on not going near that spider.

that’s when it clicks for you. he’s scared. dallas winston, the boy known all around tulsa as the toughest guy in town, is scared of a spider in his girlfriends bathroom. “are you scared, dal?” you ask genuinely, as if he’d ever admit it

“what? no, i’m not scared of anything,” he huffs, taking off his leather jacket and throwing it on the ground, as if he’s overheating. “i’ll kill it f’you, sweetie,” oh, so now that you’ve pointed out his fear, he just has to prove you wrong!

“you sure? ‘cause i bet my parents are still awake, i can ask them—“

he cuts you off. “no, i got it. you got a fly swatter or something?”

“yeah, but it’s in the storage locker in sand springs,” you admit.

“oh my god,” he sighs, and grabs your shirt off the ground, the one that you threw off before you got in the shower. “i’ll just use this, then,”

“um, that’s my favourite shirt,” you say softly. “please don’t use that,”

“just wash it,” he shrugs. he rolls up the shirt, going to smack the spider with it, but suddenly he just stops and steps back. “no way, that thing’s gonna jump on me,” he shakes his head vigourously, setting your shirt back down and going to sit beside you.

you can’t help the little smile that forms on your pink lips. it’s kind of cute seeing dallas like this. “so you’re scared?”

he can’t even deny it anymore. “quit it, man,” he smiles when he sees your smile, and playfully pushes you.

you giggle when he pushes you, then go stand up. “i’ll go get my dad to kill it,”

he doesn’t even say no, like you thought he would. he just nods and looks up at you. “yeah, go do that, sweetie,”

[leighsartworks216]

Pumpkin Patch

Sylus x gn!Reader

Inspired by my going to a pumpkin patch and carving pumpkins today and yesterday. I am soooo sore, BUT I made a kitty pumpkin and it's so fuckin cuteee

Warnings: pumpkin carving, fluff, cuddling, Halloween, sleepy Sylus, soft Sylus, established relationship

Word Count: 2,172

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Sylus normally doesn’t get up during the day. Usually, on any other day, he’d sleep all the way through from dawn until dusk. If he woke up at all, he’d use that time to check up on you, diurnal creature that you are.

This is “late” for him. It’s mid-morning, the sun is closer to its peak than the horizon, and you’re bouncing around like a 3-year-old that just raided a candy store.

You’d insisted on going to a pumpkin patch. The issue with that is the hours they’re usually open. As he turns into the lot, parking his nice (very expensive) car on the grass, watching you already starting to unbuckle your seatbelt, he thinks ruining his sleep schedule just a bit is worth it.

You hold his hand like a tether as you practically skip all the way down the driveway. At the end, on the left, is a big red barn, side doors open wide to welcome guests into a small shop. Cider, candles, donuts and more sit along wooden shelves, waiting to be bought. But to the right…

“Sy, look at them all!” You gape at the array of bright orange gourds in front of you. Big, medium, small - even a couple huge ones that he could sit inside of if they were hollowed. You suddenly look at him, a bright smile tearing at your face and stars dancing in your eyes. “I never asked! Have you ever carved a pumpkin before?”

It’s a miracle you’re not letting him go to run ahead into the field. Other couples trail along, searching for that one perfect pumpkin. A small family is taking photos of their dressed-up child among the hay bales. One person is looking at the huge ones with the eye of a sculpture artist.

He shakes his head, his own smile accompanying yours. “No. I don’t think we have anything like it in the N109 Zone.”

“Really? Do you have Halloween?”

He chuckles. “It would be a funny place if we started handing out free candy for one night of the year.” He tilted his head and raised a brow at you. “Besides, do you really want kids running around unsupervised?”

You huff, face wrinkling into a cute grimace. “Most kids who trick-or-treat aren’t unsupervised,” you retort. Your face softens as you reach the edge of the field. “But I guess you’re right. Oh!” You tug on his arm excitedly. “You should spend Halloween with me! We can watch scary movies and dress up and give out candy to the kids!”

A warmth seeps into his chest. You’d never allowed him to visit your apartment in Linkon City. You were always so scared of someone recognizing him, of being caught in this little game. To offer so freely now, and with this much enthusiasm, how can he refuse?

“Alright,” he agrees. “I’ll spend the holiday with you. Now pick out your pumpkin.”

“You gotta pick one out, too!”

“I will, sweetie.”

You let go of his hand to weave and wind your way through the patch. Pumpkins of all shapes surround him as he follows, scanning each gourd with a discerning eye. He vaguely understood the concept; pick a pumpkin, carve a face or design into it, and leave it out on the front step with lights inside. It was strange, to be sure. He couldn’t, as of yet, understand the appeal.

When he looks around at the people, they’re just like you: bouncing around, grinning from ear to ear just thinking about what they’ll carve. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think there was some reward or prize involved. But there wasn’t. As far as indulgences go, it’s one he can’t fully grasp yet.

You gasp as you run ahead toward a pumpkin. It was bright orange with shallow grooves, almost perfectly round, and with a stem twisting out of the top. You pick it up, turning it this way and that. “Look how perfect this one is, Sy! What do you think?” You turn to him, holding it for him to see.

“It’s a bit big for you, don’t you think, kitten?” he teases.

“Hush, I think it’s the perfect size for my design.” You swat at his chest, but he doesn’t even flinch at the contact. Instead, he holds out his arm so he can carry it for you. While it’s not the heaviest pumpkin in the patch, you do struggle with the heft. He doesn’t struggle at all as he cradles it in one arm.

“What are you going to carve into it?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You smile mischievously up at him.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I look forward to it.” He turns his attention back to the array before him. You hold his free hand as he continues his search.

It’s minutes later when his eyes catch sight of a smaller pumpkin. It’s gumdrop shaped, with a shorter stem. He isn’t sure what draws him to it, but he points it out to you and you pick it up.

“Awe, it’s so cute! I thought you’d go for one of the big ones for sure.” You spin it by its small stem to look at all its sides. The grooves are mostly shallow, with some running deeper than others. It’s also not perfectly orange like yours is. It’s instead more yellow toward the top.

“I should start small for my first pumpkin, no? I’m not an expert like you yet.”

You laugh, tucking the light-weight pumpkin into your own arm to carry as he leads you back towards the barn. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as I, the Pumpkin Carving Master. I’ve had years of experience - you gotta lot of catching up to do.”

“You sound confident,” he says. “Maybe you’d like to put a little wager on whose pumpkin turns out better?”

“And who would be judging this competition?”

“Luke and Kieran, of course.”

���Ha! They’d give it to you in a heartbeat.”

“Do you know any other impartial judges?”

You think for a minute. All of your friends are hunters, and they’d probably feel bad choosing someone else’s work over yours, friendly competition or not. You shake your head. “Not anybody that wouldn’t turn you in.” You nudge him with your elbow. “We can always hold the competition next year. Oh! We can do us versus the twins! And then have the quote-unquote ‘impartial’ chef decide the winners.”

He chuckles warmly. “I like the way you think, kitten.”

“I know,” you chime back, grinning wickedly at your own devious little plan.

-

Sylus drives you back to the N109 Zone. It’s too risky to go back to your apartment right now, what with all the hunters that live there. It’ll be safer when it’s dark, perfect for Halloween night.

He helps you cover the coffee table in the living room with plastic trash bags to catch the guts and bits of pumpkin that will undoubtedly end up on the floor and couch anyway. You open up the cases of carving tools you got from the barn, setting out two scoops and a series of serrated knives for you both. He sets out a few toothpicks, telling you not to worry about them as he smirks all too knowingly. A familiar Halloween favorite plays on the large TV as you get started.

You show him how to cut open the pumpkin and gut it. He grimaces at the slippery, squishy innards as he pulls them out, causing you to laugh.

With a sharpie, you draw out the design you want to carve. You may or may not have found a reference for it online, while he seems to have gone in completely blind. You’re curious to know just what he’s making, but you hold back. It’ll be more fun to show them to each other after the fact.

Very few words are exchanged the longer you work. The movie fills up most of the quiet. Sometimes, you both make little jokes or commentary, but you become quite content to just sit in the moment with him. You can also understand that he’s not used to being awake at this hour. He might be too tired to keep up a conversation, so you don’t push.

“Sylus, what do you-” You quickly cut yourself off when you turn to see him.

He’s sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, resting deep in the couch cushions, head tilted back so his face is to the ceiling. His chest rises and falls slowly, quiet breaths you’d completely missed over the sound of the movie. You reach over and carefully turn it down a few ticks.

When you set the remote down, however, you notice his pumpkin sitting on the table. It seems finished, as far as you can tell. Unable to wait any longer for the reveal, you turn his pumpkin to face you.

Slanted triangle eyes with an upside down triangle nose, and a wide mouth with two little fangs. The triangles from the eyes have been repurposed with the help of the toothpicks to form ears at the top of the pumpkin. He’d even carefully cut away the orange outer layer of the pumpkin to accentuate the fangs. It was a cute little kitty. You can’t fight the smile that lights up your face as you take in Sylus’s first ever jack o'lantern.

“You’re making the same expression.”

You gasp and turn to see Sylus, no longer with his head leaned back, and with a sleep-softened smirk. You’d been so caught up in his pumpkin that you didn’t realize when he’d woken up. His red eyes shift from you to your own pumpkin. He chuckles.

“Is that me?”

Your own jack o’lantern was a classic: sharp eyes and a jagged smile full of pointed teeth. You laugh. “No, it’s not you.” You turn both of the pumpkin faces to look at you both, before leaning back into the couch next to him. His arm automatically wraps around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. “I don’t see you like that anymore.”

He hums noncommittally. How you two met remains an unspoken stain on your unusual relationship. He was scary and intense, so damn determined for you to Resonate with him that he hadn’t cared about anything else. He’s spent every day since making it up to you.

“Is that me?” you ask, pointing to his cat carving, steering you both away from that time.

He nods. “Of course it is, kitten. That’s the face you make when you’ve come up with a mischievous scheme. The resemblance is uncanny.”

You chuckle. “We can set them out later. But right now…” You pull away from his side, drawing a disappointed sigh from the man. He watches as you slide down to the other armrest, leaning your back against it and making sure the TV remote is within reach. You pat your chest. “C’mon, it’s past your bedtime.”

He huffs a soft laugh. “I wonder whose fault that is,” he teases. Still, he’s all too happy to accept your offer, stretching himself out like a sleepy cat until his body covers yours, his head resting on your chest. His arms slide between your body and the couch until they’re wrapped securely around you. You pull the blanket off the back of the couch - one of your own additions after coming and going so often - and drape it over the both of you.

“Comfy?” You comb your fingers gently through his hair. It’s always softer than you expect, gliding through your fingers easily as you scratch along his scalp.

He groans against your shirt. “It’s perfect, kitten,” he murmurs. His eyes are already shut. He’s certain now that they won’t open again until midnight. With his ear so close to your chest, he can hear your heart beating clearer than ever, mixing with the movie in the background to create a lullaby that eases all the pent up tension in his muscles. “This was fun,” he admits, voice so quiet you almost don’t hear him. “I look forward to the competition next year.”

Your fingers scrape along the nape of his neck, sending chills down his body. You grin at the power you hold. The way he so naturally responds to your touch is addicting, a power you will find a way to abuse when he wakes up. But for now, you use your newfound skills to massage the strain in his neck away and play with his hair. “I think yours won this time,” you comment.

He grins. “What do I win?”

You pretend to think. “A kiss.”

He chuckles, a darker twinge of possessiveness staining the sound. “Be careful when offering yourself up as a reward, kitten. You don’t know just how much I’ll collect.”

“Well, you can collect when you wake up. Deal?”

He squeezes you a smidge tighter in his embrace, pressing his face into your neck as he lets out a long sigh. “Deal.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44

[tiredfox64]

I have a request/idea for a thing:

What if the Reader has a mutual pining situation going on with one of the meaner MK kharacters (I’d say Bi-Han, Shang Tsung, Reiko, or Quan Chi would be good for this—whoever you want, honestly!) but neither person has the guts to say anything, until FINALLY the MK kharacter just can’t handle it anymore and practically breaks down the Reader’s door in order to confess. Then sex happens.

Pining not Pinning!

Yip notes: You know damn well I was gonna pick Reiko. That’s my scary man right there. My fiancé is so mean to him tho. Also I tried but I think I suck with that romance trope.

Pairing: Reiko x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: NSFW, biting, perhaps a bit of masochism there is some pain, vaginal sex

General Shao needs the best of the best. Reiko is one of his best soldiers, he didn’t become lieutenant by doing nothing. Reiko knows that he is on top. He basks in the glory of being Outworld’s finest soldier. But will he play nicely with someone who is just as great as him?

Well, maybe, that is for you to decide. You are the next best thing for Outworld, General Shao will tell you that. That means Reiko has his eyes on you in more ways than one.

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There have only been two instances where a woman has left the Umgadi. Those ladies would be Li Mei and you. Of course, you left not out of shame or to avoid punishment. You left because you didn’t want to protect the royal house. You wanted to protect all of Outworld. That’s why you joined General Shao’s army. He was more than happy to accept you in, seeing that you had the skills of a warrior. He also found your desire to protect all of Outworld commendable.

You quickly rose in rankings and earned yourself recognition. A female in the army who is beating upcoming soldiers? How could the people of Outworld not talk about you! And they talk and talk and spew many thoughts about you possibly overpowering a certain lieutenant who constantly wears war paint. You know damn well who they are talking about and he has heard.

All that talk led the lieutenant to you, huffing and puffing like a mad bull. Reiko knew you joined the army but he never expected you to rise in rankings so quickly. The idea of anyone being better than him doesn’t work in his mind. Which is why you two had to spar.

“What?” You questioned the general.

“Reiko has requested to fight you since you have been surpassing everyone else.”

 Speak of the devil here comes the bastard. You could see he was mean mugging you even from a distance. The closer he got the more you saw the fury that swirled in his eyes. Your eyes shifted between General Shao and Reiko. Each glance at Shao sent a message that said “Are you fucking with me?” because what made him think springing this on you was smart.

Once Reiko was next to you, he started sizing you up. Have you ever seen a snake examining its food before eating it? It’s just like that except Reiko won’t bite your head off, hopefully. Shao luckily pushed Reiko away from you since that display of aggression was embarrassing. He commanded you to get ready to spar. The other soldiers shall be watching and learning.

“I knew you joined our numbers, but I never would have imagined that you were capable of being a true warrior.” He taunted you.

“I’m full of surprises. You seem to be the same way since I’m surprised you want to fight me so badly.”

“Why? Are you afraid to lose to me?”

“Not really, I’m just worried you have a few loose screws.”

Alright enough chit-chat about how he is fuckin unstable. Put your fist up and show him a good fight. A good fight is like good sex to him.

FIGHT!

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Punches, kicks, left hook, right hook, haymakers, suplexes, piledrivers, me oh my I think I heard something crack!

How y’all two doin, alright? No? Oh I bet. You two look awful. You got drool dribbling down your chin and his rat tail manbun is messy. Both of you need to take care of your hands because your knuckles are torn up. Don’t forget to remove the shuriken stuck to your ass. Your back hurts, huh? Yeah, that won’t be the last time Reiko breaks your back—HUH?!?

General Shao had to pull you two apart the second he saw blood dripping onto the floor. He can’t have his best soldier out of commission. You took a few seconds to catch your breath and wipe the sweat from your forehead. Just as you expected, Reiko would be a tough battle. You knew he’d leave you breathless and a sweaty, drooling mess.

You decided to be a good sport and accept that this fight was a tie. You held your hand out for him to shake.

“You put up a good fight, Reiko. It was an honor to figh—”

He walked away without saying a word. You were left stunned with your hand still out. With the way Reiko was stomping away, you could tell he was all huffy. Well shit, the one guy you admire and have the hots for probably hates you now. Fuck!

Ah, but you got it all wrong. You turned that man on so much that he had to walk away from you. I told you a good fight is like good sex to that man.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Now begins an endless tango of confusing emotions and miscommunication.

From that day on you fully believed that Reiko hated you. Everyone believed that after his hissy fit of an exit. If anyone tried to discuss the fight or you in his presence, he shut that down immediately. Nobody could even speak your name around him because he’d get agitated. That’s the last thing anybody needs him to be before training starts.

You did your best to make amends even though you didn’t start the fight. You made an effort to get closer to him by doing little things like asking for help with training or cheering him on. And it worked…and it didn’t work at the same time.

He’s back and forth with his acceptance of you.

The truth is…Reiko is a dumbass. He’s a clueless fool when it comes to emotions and no one can blame him. He was raised to only think about fighting. So when a strange emotion such as love, which is already a confusing emotion, is felt inside a man who thinks love is felt when he kills someone it’s no surprise that it’s incomprehensible.

You on the other hand knew you liked Reiko. You’ve known for a long time. What wasn’t there to like about him? Sure, he could be a little scary and very rough. But he was a remarkable fighter, taking hits like they were nothing. He fought for all of Outworld and wanted the best for it. You always found that honorable and looked up to him. All that admiration slowly spiraled into a crush that grew the more you saw him. Soon those sky-blue eyes that could be as light as milky white didn’t strike fear into your soul. You started to become thankful that he wore that overly exposing uniform. It’s got you fanning yourself. You ain’t the only one feeling hot.

Reiko had no clue why he got so hot with you around. His cheeks grew warm but not warm enough to bring color to his cheeks. Even if some color blossomed in his cheeks, his war paint would hide it. He got so twitchy too when he’d watch you fight. He’d rub the back of his neck or itch his arm even though he wasn’t itchy. He didn’t know what to do with his body.

The one thing you caught onto was his gaze. It was intense and his eyes followed your every move. When you’d accidentally make eye contact it felt like you were staring at each other for minutes, hours even. Nothing would be said but some part of Reiko hoped that his eye contact would tell you how he felt even if he didn’t know it himself. You’d look away the moment your face started to burn as you grew flustered. But your mind couldn’t believe that. You thought he hated you. So instead, you told yourself you were getting so scared that you grew embarrassed from being scared of him. That doesn’t make sense but you couldn’t make sense of anything.

Some of your Umgadi sisters who you still talked to had encouraged you to tell him how you felt. You didn’t have the same obligations you had before, maybe the army isn’t so strict when it comes to their soldiers being in a relationship. Oh, and they gave you the usual “the worst he can say is no” bullshit.

The least he can say is no. The worst he can say or do is laugh at you and call you pathetic. Or he might slap you in the face thinking you’re crazy for having a crush on him. OR he could tell General Shao what you confessed, and you might be kicked out of the army due to an “inappropriate” relationship with someone higher up.

No, fuck that! You’ll die with this crush of yours under lock and key and shoved in your heart. You can’t risk anything, especially since you believe Reiko hates you. The thought of him rejecting you or making fun of you breaks your tough heart. You’ve never liked or admired a man so much before and you’d like to at least be near him.

So go ahead, scream into your pillows, and wrap yourself in blankets while yelling how it’s just not fair. Why did you have to love a man who hates your guts?!

And now stop all that noise because you don’t know the truth.

You consumed his mind, clouding his ability to think straight. He tried to use that as a reason to hate you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t hate your strength and dedication. He couldn’t hate that smile you would sometimes crack when another soldier did something stupid or silly. He couldn’t hate how your eyes, no matter the color, let the sunlight illuminate them beautifully. He couldn’t hate how perfect you were in his eyes. You were someone he wanted.

But Reiko couldn’t just say it out loud randomly. Remember, he has no idea how love works. Did he actually like you or was his body just being hormonal? Was he just being a horny pervert even though he is way past that stage in life where random things would make him hard? He would never forgive himself if that were the case. Being in love might be less embarrassing.

There were only two people Reiko was willing to talk about this with: General Shao and…Rain? Yeah, Rain can be a strange choice but who else other than Shao could Reiko talk to?

He started going to Rain about those strange feelings and observations he was making. He treated the High Mage like a therapist and Rain wanted to throw a book at him. The conversations only helped, or in Reiko’s eyes made things worse, because he realized more and more how much liked you. The conversations would go like this.

“She looked amazing today during training. She barely broke a sweat even after facing ten of my men.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.” Rain would say sarcastically while flipping through a spell book.

“…her grunts made me feel something…I wanted to hear her gasp more.”

“…”

“…”

“Do you see this scepter in my hand, Reiko? Okay, now ignore it as it’s coming towards you.” Rain would lift his scepter and use it like a baseball bat to tell Reiko to get the fuck out of his room! Three out of five times he would. But at least he was the one to tell Reiko that he was simply just a man in love. Good! So not a pervert…maybe.

Shao was really no help. Rain did more by just sitting there. Shao was quick to shut Reiko down when it came to his feelings. He saw how his second-in-command was getting distracted more because of you. He would kick you out of the army if you weren’t such a useful asset. He was forced to steer him away from you. He knew Reiko would listen to him without hesitation.

So he started messing with him. Shao told him this was all a trick. Your nice attitude was meant to throw him off his rhythm so you could surpass him. Soon, all the soldiers would be listening to you instead of him. It worked a little. Reiko would get agitated again and push himself to train harder, be better. Oh but you would somehow fight your way into his heart by being a sweetie only towards him or by actually fighting him. And then he goes back to that dazed state where his mind is on you and he stares at you till you shiver.

Then Shao lied straight to his face. He wanted Reiko to think you hated him. He went on and on about how you must hate him because Reiko wanted to fight you for no reason. He disrespected you by fighting you even though that was an honor to you. Because Reiko was still so clueless about how love worked, he believed the general. He is much older and is supposed to be wiser, what he says must be true. But if that were the case why would you want to be near him? Why would you come to him for help if you believed he disrespected you? Nice try Shao, you failed again. Your lieutenant is loyal, not braindead.

He gave up. Shao didn’t try to hide that he didn’t want Reiko getting close to you. You two already had a connection going without knowing. All that was left to do was to have someone confess. But Shao said no. Even now, yes now, Shao was telling Reiko not to pursue you.

After training one day Shao takes Reiko to his office to command him to stop. Stop his feelings for you and be the soldier he was before you joined. There will be no argument about it.

“I don’t want you getting close to her, Reiko. Don’t make me regret letting her join my army.” Shao growls.

Reiko listens to Shao, he always listens. If General Shao tells him not to pursue you, even though he is starting to lose it a little, he won’t pursue you. He will continue his night like he usually does.

He lets down his hair from its bun before he washes away the day’s stress. The warm water cleanses him of sweat and war paint while relaxing his tired muscles. His hands travel down to scrub the soap against his body and his mind begins to wander. He wants to be close to you. He wants to feel your skin against his again. He wants to hear you pant and groan without the need to start a fight.

The shower grows steamier and his body grows hotter. Was it the water or his mind doing that, who’s to say? Oh but that mind of his truly can’t be contained because he starts to wonder what it would be like to have you with him in the shower. To see the water drip down your body and to watch the soap flow down every curve on you. What would you two do in there? The possibilities are endless. Would you be shy and have your back to him? That’s not a bad outcome, it would just mean a surprise for you. Or would you be looking at him the whole time, letting your eyes tell him what you want? If so, it wouldn’t be a surprise if you kept looking at him as you kneel before him. You would look him right in his eyes as your hands, deadly yet so soft, start to stroke his hard cock as your tongue begins to—

Woah! Yeah, Reiko is painfully hard. He has only himself to blame yet he will pin this on you. He has to wait for it to go down while he bangs his head softly against the shower walls. Once it’s soft, or at least semi-hard, he wraps a towel around his waist and tries to wipe the smeared war paint off with another towel. Don’t think that stuff comes off easily it is made to last through the day.

Reiko keeps wiping the black paint off as he walks through the halls of the barracks. As he starts to think that he has his emotions and desires under control—HE JUST CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! The confusion! The eyes of other soldiers! The fact that everyone is telling him not to say anything to you BECAUSE THEY HAVE SO LITTLE FAITH IN HIM AND ARE TRYING TO TRICK HIM!

That does it! He throws down the towel in the middle of the hallways before turning on his heels and walking towards your room. The war paint was not fully off so it looked like he lightly used a black eyeliner pencil around his eyes. It was hot you’ll see in a second.

Reiko wastes no time on knocking or even turning the doorknob to your room. You had only five seconds before your door was kicked in. In those five seconds you heard quick wet footsteps up to your door almost like someone literally stepped out of the shower and walked to your room. It started off light then grew heavy before a BAM.

You’re in the middle of doing your skincare routine because screw letting your pores be clogged with sweat and dirt. You see in the reflection of the mirror to see Reiko standing in the doorway. Your mouth falls open from the shock of the door being kicked open to being even more shocked that he has only a towel wrapped around his waist. He’s huffing as he slams the door shut behind him before making his way towards you and only then do you react. You turn around and try to keep your distance because you have no idea what he is mad about now. Did General Shao talk about you? Did someone taunt him? Did it even have anything to do with you?? You had no clue.

“W-wait! What?! What did I do now?” You whine as you leap onto your bed with the idea of using it as a barrier between you two.

It fails because he is quick to move to the other side of your bed. You are so scared you drop onto your bed with a little bounce. You clutch the top of your bathrobe together like they were an imaginary set of pearls. Your eyes stare up at Reiko as he creeps closer. His hands suddenly grab your face and you are a bit surprised it’s not rough enough to bruise you. And then he said it.

“I like you…I think I love you. I love the way you fight. I love your need to serve all of Outworld. You are the woman I need. Ever since we fought I knew I needed you by my side.”

“…”

“…”

“…oh…”

There is this awkwardness that takes over the whole room. You don’t say much because you are unsure of how truthful Reiko is. This could be a trick. Someone could’ve snitched and this was his way of humiliating you. But would he really go through that with only a towel on, his war paint nearly wiped off, and his hair down as it still drips with water? He is just as vulnerable in this situation as you are. You are two vulnerable lovesick fools who took too long to say something. Now that love and admiration have come dripping out.

“Are you…being serious?” You are not trying to be mean, you are genuinely asking.

His eyes narrow in anger and for a second you feel panic rising in you. But then he kisses you. It’s messy and rough and yet it feels so good. Your lips are soft compared to his slightly damaged rough lips. One hand stays on your face while the other slides to the back to hold your head. Your breathing grows heavy as the passion chokes you both before he pulls away. You look into his eyes and you know that his intentions are true.

“Any more stupid questions?” He asks somewhat aggressively, which is natural.

You nod your head no. Reiko leans back in and kisses you more, passion driving his actions. His kisses are not perfect, but you still love them. You’re not perfect with your kisses either. His body begins to press against yours until your back is pressed against your bed. His hands touch you with great curiosity and hunger, knowing where he wants to touch you but savoring every feeling beneath his fingertips. Though you hate to stop this beautiful moment as your bodies begin to heat up there is an important fact you must share if this tension is gonna break soon.

“Wait, Reiko, hold on,” you place your hands on his chest to push him back a little, “I’m a virgin.”

“So am I.” He replies casually because why should he be ashamed? He spent all his life fighting and winning battles. Do you think anyone’s gonna shame him for not having sex before this point?

There is much to talk about with this new relationship but that must wait. You two need to release that tension that has been building up for a while now. Make sure to take it slow.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

The moans and groans of virgins can be so sweet. Skin-to-skin contact is exhilarating when the need to love one another runs through you. Oh yes and the fact that Reiko was pounding into you.

You two tried to take it slow. You especially wanted to take it slow once you saw what was behind that towel. Six inches is nothing to sneeze at. But it was the fact that it was thick and had a curve to it. That’s what made you question if it would even fit. He would make that fit, slowly but surely.

Look, he tried to do it slowly and gently but the moment the tip went in it was hard to hold back. His hands gripped your sheets as he stretched you out. The pain you felt was dull and almost pleasurable. You let out little gasps as you took in more of his cock. Your pussy clenched around him, making it even harder for him to stay calm. Reiko struggled to hold back. Your body was like a drug, and he wanted to chase that high that your warm pussy was giving him. The moment you gave him the okay his mind went blank and he started thrusting.

Whatever Shao told him before was forgotten. What did he advise him about? Reiko can’t recall. All his mind could focus on was the pleasure and heat of your body.

And now, Reiko has you right where he wants you. Beneath him and at his mercy. Except it wasn’t like before when you two fought. He doesn’t want to put you beneath him to teach you a lesson about how he is better than you. He wants you beneath him so he can give you the greatest pleasure a man could give to his lover. And that’s how he will show you that he is better and on top. Sorry, he’s competitive even in bed.

He looks down at you, your eyes closed and your mouth slightly open as you pant. Your moans bounce off the walls and slip under your door. The bed creaks with the headboard occasionally tapping against the wall. Reiko’s head reels back as he groans in pleasure like he is letting the gods know the sins you two are creating. But even if the gods don’t hear it, the barracks do. Y’all really shouldn’t be this noisy but your minds are mush. You could only focus on each other. And damn any soldier who is against you and Reiko having some fun.

His hands squeeze your thighs harshly as he keeps your legs open. His eyes move across your body, taking in every bruise and scratch you gained from training. A bit of pride creeps up into his chest as he takes in the fact that he is fucking the best female soldier he has ever seen. That pride urges him to do more. Pleasure you with the love and desire he holds for you.

He leans down and nuzzles his face against the side of your neck before biting it. Yes, biting, because kissing wouldn’t be enough for Reiko. He bites just enough for it to sting but not enough to break skin. You yelp out in pain before it gets drowned out by another moan as he thrusts into you. You can’t see it but as his teeth find another place to sink into, he has this smug smile on his face. He indulges in your reactions. More, more, give him more! Feed his ego!

He starts going rougher, pulling out till it’s only the tip left inside before slamming back in. A wet sound is made every time he pulls out. The sound of skin slapping against each other was now added to the orchestra of lewd sounds coming from your room. If you weren’t somewhat fucked out of your mind you would be embarrassed by how your body was reacting to this. Your cheeks would heat up hearing how wet you were for Reiko. Getting turned on by a man who is happily marking you, slut! Reiko’s slut!

The left side of your neck and your shoulder are littered with bite marks that will surely bruise by the time the sun rises. His lips dance across your skin to find another place to mark up. He moves lower till he gets to your tits. The way they jiggled slightly with each thrust tempts him to mark them too. Why not, what does Reiko lose from showing others that you are his lady? Exactly, nothing. That’s why he starts sucking at the sensitive skin of your tits to mark them with hickeys. Those beautiful red hickeys will take days to fade away.

You felt his tongue begin to swirl around your nipple. His hot breath tickles your skin as his warm saliva coats your nipple. His lips wrap around the sensitive bud, sucking on it as he starts rolling his hips. Your back arches from the pleasure that came from that. Every time he rolled his hips it rubbed against your clit. It works well with his curved cock as it begins to rub against your g-spot. It makes your toes curl and you get the sudden urge to wrap your legs around his waist and never let him go. The only thing stopping you was his hands which kept your legs open. Reiko is in full control and all you can do is arch your back as you moan his name.

Gods, hearing you moan his name drove him crazy. It makes him go rougher. The slapping sound gets louder as his balls slap against your ass. He sucks a little harder on your nipple until his teeth start to lightly graze it. They threatened to bite down, but not fully, he’s not a maniac. Once you start to feel a slight sting on your nipple that’s when your hand goes up and yanks on his hair. He groaned not from pain but from pleasure when you did that. He snickers before saying,

“What, are you afraid of a little pain? I thought you were tougher than that. Come on gorgeous, I know you can take it.”

“Shut up…” You whine out. You sound pathetic trying to fight off your moans when you say that.

You yank his hair again, earning yourself another satisfied groan from him. He slams into you while grinding his hips so he can rub against your clit. It works in making you weak enough to let go of his hair and pleasure you. He takes the chance to move his mouth to your other tit. His slick tongue licks your nipple before he bites down around your nipple. Teeth marks showed up around the areola. You yelp at the sting that dwindles into a light-burning sensation on your right tit. That’s definitely gonna leave a mark.

“Ow Reiko! You bastard!” You scold him.

But what’s the point in scolding him when he knew you liked it? He felt how your walls squeezed and pulsed around him. The wet sound grew louder since you got wetter from the pain. That son of a bitch chuckles from the fact that the pain he was giving you was pleasuring you. It turns him on more and you feel his cock twitch inside you.

You recognize that you are getting closer to cumming. It felt like a knot in your lower belly was growing tighter with each thrust. Your body grows hotter and your breath becomes shorter. Your hands grab Reiko’s shoulders before your nails dig into his pale skin. Red scratch marks are left behind as your grip grows tighter. He keeps rolling his hips and thrusting at an angle, your reaction letting him know he is hitting those sweet spots. Your pussy pulses around his cock until finally that knot in you snaps. This warm feeling in your lower belly swirls and consumes your body. You feel like you can breathe again but all that air is being used up on your desperate moans. That pleasure reaches your brain and it’s like everything you were worried about was gone. Your mind was clear and all you could think about was Reiko’s thick cock stretching you out.

Reiko listens to the sweet moans that slip past your lips as he keeps pounding into you. He looks into your beautiful eyes, eyes wet with tears. They were happy tears. Happy to be fucked out of your mind. His cock twitches from the knowledge that he was the first man to make you feel such ecstasy. He plans to be the only man to give you that high that everyone deserves to get.

All the emotions, the noises, the pain and pleasure, it was enough to make Reiko cum. He thrusts into your warm, wet pussy before he pulls out quickly. His lips crash against yours to sloppily kiss you. Truly, this kiss was sloppy. He couldn’t keep his mouth closed the whole time with all those groans and…oh fuck he’s moaning. Breathy low moans come from him as his cock twitches between your legs. Warm cum splatters all over your stomach and even reach up to your tits. It drips down your sides as he finally manages to close his mouth and goes back to kissing you. Some saliva drips out and dribbles down both your chins. Aw, poor Reiko, he was so pent up.

He slowly pulls away, a string of saliva still connecting your lips. He lets go of your legs. They go limp from how weak you are. You’re both panting. Your skin slightly glistens with sweat and so does his. You are soaked down there with some of your wetness dripping down onto the sheets. After a few deep breaths, one of you manages to say something.

“So, do you still think I am joking?” Reiko asks.

“Obviously not. I felt the love you have for me.” And you still do as you remember it all. Got you shivering like it was still going on.

He laughs almost mockingly as he grabs the towel that he used before to clean you up. Look at him being a gentleman and cleaning his cum off your body. Only a man who loves you would do that.

When he finishes, he throws the towel in some random corner as he lies next to you. His head lays against your pillows as his arm rests over his eyes. He is still breathing heavily as he takes in everything that happened. The feeling of your body against his and how nicely your pussy squeezed him is fresh in his mind. So fresh his cock twitches as if it were still in you. That’s what good pussy does to a man. It stays with him.

You snuggle up to him and his arm instinctively wraps around you. You rest your head on his chest as his hand squeezes your shoulder. Your fingers trace over his abs, something you thought you would never be able to do before. Your heart flutters when you realize that Reiko is yours. He is your man now. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him and now he is yours. You can’t help but smile as you lean up to kiss along his jawline. He smiles before looking down and kissing your forehead.

“So what, you’re going to act all lovey with me now that we are together?”

“Hah, maybe in the bedroom but not on the training grounds. I’ll still beat your ass in a loving way.”

You can see the smile on his face become prouder as he says, “I’d like nothing better.”

With one last kiss on the lips, you begin to fall asleep in his arms. Your body is satisfied, and your heart is full of love. And even if Reiko is your boyfriend now, your words are true. You will beat his ass with everything you got. You’ll keep being the warrior he fell in love with, just with a few more kisses and hugs sprinkled in.

Ah actually before you sleep I’ll advise you to apologize to the other soldiers in the morning. You were not discreet at all. Even General Shao heard what you did. That’ll be fun to deal with in the morning.

Yap notes: Uhhhh yeah that was long. I should've been working on final papers but I really just wanted to finish this fic. I hope this is good because I felt uncertain in some places. Idk I just wanted to feel some joy again this semester sucks and the past few days have been awful. Anyway I freaking love Reiko. He makes me question my morals. But he is so hot. I can't play with him in front of my fiancé sometimes because he makes fun of him. On test your might to be more specific. There was one time I was looking for tramp stamp inspirations (don't judge me I just think they are neat) and we saw a tattoo and he said "that's probably what it looks like after having sex with Reiko" like hush 😭. 👇

I should get back to my papers and I hope I can just have some free time soon. This semester is killing me. Adiós!

[heartsofminds]

i'm calling just to hear you scream - part ii.

“Free means “fuck.” She’s gonna fuck us, Sugar and you don’t even fucking care!” or it's your first day at The Bear (or is it The Beef still?), Richie is convinced you're a fed, and Carmen may or may not hate your guts.

A/N: well surprise, surprise! here's part two of i'm calling just to hear you scream. definitely more of a filler chapter before everything starts to implode and get more serious and downright grimey, but i hope you enjoy!

The shadows created by the awnings of the sandwiched businesses chill your bones while the Sun makes your backside sticky beneath your sweater and light spring jacket. Chicago is beautiful in March, but always full of surprises.

One day comes an icy snowstorm that adds to the gray slush collecting on the side of the street and the next a blissful sixty-one degrees that gaslights everyone into walking around with shorts on because it’s just “so warm.” 

You can’t revel in the tranquility for much longer. Not when you’re pretty sure you’re coming up on the address Natalie emailed you two nights ago. 628 West Wager Street sits prettily in between an old antique shop and a Chicago Cubs merchandise store that has definitely seen better days. Despite no sign hanging on the window and the glass completely shielded from outside eyes by brown butcher paper, it somehow looks like it belongs; the younger sibling of a once booming and vibrant street scene. 

Being outside of the door is a feeling that fills you with both anxiety and uncertainty. You know you’re in the right spot but you don’t feel like you are; not when you can’t hear any noise coming from any of the three storefronts that stand in front of you. You’re made even more uneasy when you see the five by eleven sheet of insulated foil wrap with capital letters written in Sharpie taped to the front window. 

The Beef is closed. Thank you for your patronage. The Bear is coming. 

The nerves start to hit you even harder. All Natalie had mentioned over the phone and through your frequent emails have been about needing help with a restaurant. The name of the aforementioned restaurant had never been disclosed and its location remained a mystery until this morning when you got an email with the unspoken directions that Apple Maps would omit. There’s nothing more embarrassing than doing a consult and not knowing any of the details. It’s even more humiliating when the feeling of being made a fool seems inevitable. 

Your arm refuses to move forward and yank the door open in case this is some sick prank. You half expect Becca to be hiding behind it with the “good ole boys” crew that is full of Senior and Junior partners at your law firm; their only purpose is to further humiliate and belittle you more than they already do on a day-to-day basis at the office. 

It’s a ridiculous thing to think that someone would care enough about you and your shame to do that, you know, but it’s the only way you can rationalize your brain warning you not to touch that door. Your eyes catch your reflection and suddenly you want the concrete sidewalk to swallow you whole. You take in how your navy blue pantsuit engulfs you and how your work bag seems to get heavier and heavier as it hangs solemnly at your side. 

You don’t belong here. 

The itch to turn around and run back to the train as fast as you could possibly manage crosses your mind, but the shattering of the quiet oasis around you interrupts that thought before it can materialize. 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up!” you hear a voice scream.

“Do you ever realize you don’t know fuckin’ everything!” another one screams back. 

The sound of a wall being hit accompanies the shouts as well as numerous other voices joining in on the cacophony the verbal altercation created. 

Call it a hunch (or just having enough common sense), but you definitely are in the right place and there are certainly people inside. The scary part of not knowing is over. The absolutely horrifying part of having to see where you fit in is pending. 

Your fingers grip the solid metal door handle and you rip it open. The resounding squeal it emits makes you want the floor to swallow you up whole. The chaos of screaming shouting and yelling start to pause before the sound of the sledgehammer hitting the wall a second time interrupts it and sends it into a full frenzy once again. 

The world seems to be moving in slow motion and your words are caught in your throat. You’ve never seen chaos like this before, but you’ve definitely felt the way you’re currently feeling every day for the past five years. Faces you don’t know, a nagging feeling of responsibility, a dire need to do the best job you possibly can and not fucking up and not pissing anyone off, and yet no idea where to even start. 

“If I already fuckin’ told you you were tearing the wrong wall down why the actual fuck would you do it again!” a strained scream bounces off the walls. 

You jolt at the echo. The current lack of infrastructure and an igloo of scaffolding tarp amplifies the sound by three thousand decibels. 

He can’t see your face because his back is turned toward you, but the temperament and the mop of curls tell you the obvious. Carmen. Natalie’s brother and shareholder that she had subtly warned you about in a half-joking, half-not tone when you had spoken on the phone the other day. 

“To prove a fucking point,” a lankier taller man scoffs back. Richie. Their cousin, not cousin (which you don’t really understand, but you chalk it up to a deduction that not everything is meant to make sense), and the absolute bane of Natalie and Carmen’s existence at times. She had also warned you about him on the phone. “Even if I’m wrong you never fail to always think you’re fucking right like a – like a fucking baby! You walk around here pissed the fuck off and fucking changing everything and makin’ it everyone else’s fucking problem –” 

Carmen lunges at him and two other men from the crowd almost pick him up from the floor to prevent him from tackling Richie. 

“Everyone else’s prob – You’re my fucking problem! You’re my fuckin’ problem and all you know how to do is fuck up and make everything fuckin’ worse!” 

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuckin’ pissy ass pamper cry baby.” 

Carmen tries his hardest to wrangle himself out of the hold he’s currently in. Sydney, a genius and the Lord’s prayer (according to Natalie, also), clumps herself near him as he remains twisting and turning like a toddler fighting a parent’s protective hold through a temper tantrum. 

“Chill, chill, chill. Stop. Just stop,” she gently coos. Her hand claps the shoulder of one of the men holding him up. You can see the gentle squeeze it gives to provide silent comfort, but you wonder if the softness in her tone is to deescalate the situation or to help regulate herself. 

He’s dragged out to what you can assume is the backdoor and it slams with a cadence that demands attention. A sharp thud can be heard five seconds later accompanied by various, “Yo, what the fuck, dude?”’s. 

He must have kicked the door. He definitely kicked the door. 

Your body continues to stay frozen in the bare entryway. The survival skills you’ve adapted kick into full effect. Don’t make a move. Don’t make a sound. Do not piss anyone else off. 

The aftermath of commotion and chatter fills the room and leaves no space for you. You have half the mind to put your hand back on the handle and dip out before anyone notices. You’ve been here all of three minutes and you feel as if it’s been a year. The shouting and the hurtful insults and the frequent use of the word “fuck” send a blush down your chest. You’re embarrassed because you’re starting to think that you can’t handle it. You’re not good enough. You’re not strong enough. 

What the fuck were you thinking even coming here? 

The push of your thigh against the door causes the rusted metal hinge to groan again. The sound is indiscernible from relief or protest; staying or leaving. Either option makes your skin crawl. The sudden redirection of eyes casts a dome of silence and everyone zones in on the thing that wasn’t there before: you. 

No one moves and for a second, you don’t think anyone blinks. The realization of someone infiltrating a rather robust and rage-filled argument occurring at nine in the morning sinks in before the vein of awkwardness begins to bleed. You know the logical thing to do is to introduce yourself; to force a plaster-like smile on your face and extend your hand and ask how everyone is doing. 

But you don’t. 

You can’t. 

Natalie can feel the alarm bells going off in her head when her eyes float to your figure. You look worried; a flash of pensiveness and subtle fear floods your facial expression and she starts to panic. Opening a restaurant is beyond humbling and asking Becca Cantor for her help was a last-ditch effort to contain the smallest bit of confidence she had left. Besides, she would rather roll over and die than you to walk out that door, tell Becca about how they’re sledgehammering walls with a gang of lunatics at the restaurant, and somehow get a call from Uncle Jimmy that turns into a stern talking to about how they’re just dicking around with his money and how it’s a waste of time. 

You absolutely, positively can not walk out that door. 

She’ll make sure of it. Even if it’s the last thing she ever fucking does. 

Her feet carry her faster than what her brain is aware of. Her eyes have to catch up with the scenery passing her in a blur as she walks up to you. Seeing her face calms you down in a way that is small but not unnoticed. She has kind eyes and a calm demeanor. This is the kind of client that gives you confidence. This is the kind of client that brings you joy. This is the kind of work you were made to do. 

“Oh, hey! You found it!” she cheers. Her hand brushes against your bicep in a welcome. 

The pool of spit inside your mouth gets swallowed as you curtly nod. “Yeah! Yeah, I thought Apple Maps led me astray but I was definitely in the right spot.” 

Pretending not to notice the curious gazes behind your interaction proves difficult, but it’s not something you’re not used to. Working in an office means there’s always someone in your business and you always feel like you’re under constant surveillance. 

At least this time, the threat of humiliation seems considerably low. The obvious danger of being chased out of here with a sledgehammer is considerably high though. 

“How are you doing?” you ask quietly. A conversation of niceties always makes things less awkward and gives you some leeway for at least learning who the owners are of the staring eyes. 

“Yo, who the fuck is this, Suge?” Richie asks, wiping his plaster-covered hands on his shirt. His face still harbors a flush that had yet to dissipate. He also has kind eyes but you know from the moments you witnessed prior that he can turn his kindness off and on instantaneously. 

Natalie rolls her eyes and huffs. The damage control that she’s doing is not going to plan. She had grown up around cursing and incredibly forward questioning and knows that not everyone else had, and from the disastrous commotion you stumbled into five minutes prior and the way your eyes show more of the whites than the irises, the crudeness needs to take a backseat. 

At least enough of one to ensure that you’re not about to turn around and bolt out of that shitty ass door that she had been bitching at Richie to oil for the past two months. 

She moves to stand next to you and puts her arm around your shoulder. Natalie knows that the second they find out that you’re an attorney all hell will break loose. Something about accusing you of being “fed” and coming to rip the “fundamentals of democracy” out from under them brews in her mind and she gags a little at the thought of having to diffuse yet another shit show before ten in the morning. 

The unwelcome taste of acid tinging the back of her tongue makes her take a mental note to ask her OB about being so nauseous. 

“This is our attorney,” she starts and begins to ignore the groans coming from the crowd in front of her, “She’s gonna help us with some...things.” 

Richie scoffs and throws his hands up. He wipes at his nose with his forearm and some of the plaster residue makes a home on the tip of it. 

“You brought a fuckin’ fed in here, Sugar?” His eyebrows rise to his hairline and it doesn’t take a genius to know how he doesn’t want you here at all. “I told you I had this under wraps. The fuck do we need a fed up our ass for if we’re just tearin’ down walls and shit.” 

You sigh and Natalie can feel the anxiety radiating off of you. She’s starting to absorb it, but the fight in her to make this right persists. 

“Well, first of all, the fed has a fucking name, you dick,” she snaps, “And you’ve been slinging beef sandwiches your entire adult life so the fuck do we need you for?”  

Richie exhales as the rest of the people around him start to snicker. 

“Damn, Papa. You need to pipe down,” whom you guess is Tina from some of the people who had been mentioned to you through the phone calls (and there’s so many goddamn people in here for it to be out of business and you’re sure you’ll need to start doing flashcards every night to remember who they are). 

“Thanks, T,” Natalie and Richie chirp in unison; their voices capturing the different emotions of annoyance and triumph differently. 

Some more harsh words and excited chatter served with a side of frustration occurs and you’re so checked out that you don’t even realize that no one has asked you directly what your name is. The animated voices and exaggerated body movement swell the room even more; pushing you outside and three blocks away so vividly through emotion that you have to check to make sure your feet haven’t moved. 

No one has asked who you are and which firm you came from. No one has asked how you are. And still, no one has asked you what your name is. 

They continue to talk and joke and yell and you start to feel yourself shrinking in. 

Smaller, smaller, smaller. 

Gone. 

You know that it’s not personal. It’s almost never personal, but the mind tends to conjure up ideas when it can’t make sense of the feelings it detects from the body. 

Maybe it had just gotten thrown to the wayside. Maybe they were making room for direct conversation with you to occur later when things weren’t so awkward. Maybe they don’t hate you and think you’re the worst and may actually like you.

But then maybe they don’t. 

Maybe they just don’t give a fuck. 

In your catatonic daze, you hear an offhanded remark about how you look like a high schooler who just waltzed in after a Model UN convention and that Natalie has no idea what the fuck she was doing. The laughter that follows highlights those who actively agree and the agitated huffs of frustration show those who silently concur. 

In any other circumstance, you probably would have joined them in laughter or returned a smart-alecky response or accompanied them in making fun of you, but this isn’t a different circumstance. You’re in a construction zone on a Saturday morning, overdressed with a pantsuit on, and have not a clue on how hospitality law works, and the facts leave a non-disputable conclusion. 

You’re the odd one out and you can’t get an invite to be even no matter how hard you try.

You truly don’t belong here. 

“Richie, have you ever considered that maybe we need to do it right this time?” Natalie asks, her tone dripping annoyance, “Her being here clearly doesn’t affect your ability to be an idiot, so you can go fuck yourself because she’s staying.” 

Richie narrows his eyes at her. His lanky limbs flail as he attempts to make his emotions seen without having to verbalize them. Natalie has had it with his stubbornness and she knows that she might be puking her guts out in about fifteen minutes. The great debate has to have an ending in sight soon. 

Besides, she knows that Richie’s apprehension toward the whole thing is because he’s resisting change and trying to get under Carmen’s skin. It doesn’t matter how great she knows her brother can make something. Richie will try and put a pin in it before it becomes something he no longer recognizes. 

Just like their dad. Somewhat like Mikey. Especially like Carmen (even though she knows he doesn’t recognize his own stubbornness yet). 

“Jesus, that’s fuckin’ horse shit if I’ve heard it,” he sneers, “And I happen to be very intelligent and very charming – and FYI – I also know how a fucking business works and all this “foo-foo,” “high dining”, microgreen shit –” 

She holds up her hand to him and rolls her eyes. She’s surprised she hasn’t been able to see the back of her skull yet. “It’s fine dining, but whatever.” 

“Fuck all the way off. Fine dining, microgreen shit is a dishonor to our roots and I will not stand for it.” 

Natalie’s hand smacks down on a metal rolling table with a rusty toolbox and a wrinkled pad of Post-it notes. The sounds of clanky metal snap everyone’s attention to her. Natalie was never mean. She was always sugary sweet and ooey gooey; trying to be in everyone’s good graces at all times and forever attempting to fix things before they had the potential to be broken. But she could also brush the sugar off and leave a bitter and tongue-curdling hurt if she got pushed to her limit. 

She’s not had a full night’s rest since she got asked (more like begged, but she’s not one for bragging) to be their project manager, she can’t bare to stomach anything nowadays without wrestling the urge to puke it back up, and the fucking pregnancy hormones are filling her with unexplained bouts of rage as of late. 

She is not one to be fucked with and Richie knows that. He just always wants to poke the bear. 

“Well that’s fuckin’ sad that your “roots” are tied to an Italian beef shop, but that doesn’t change my mind whatsoever,” she pushes past him with more force than she intended, guiding you along with her to wherever she had in mind, “You can bitch and moan and holler all you want but you’re not the one losing your fucking mind over fucking paperwork so whatever other unhelpful and extremely negative shit you have to say can get shoved up your ass and you can get fucked because I’m not putting up with it.” 

Richie is rendered speechless – a phenomenon that does not occur very often. 

She turns to you and gives you a friendly smile. Her hand rests softly above yours that are bawled into anxious fists. “Let’s go into the office so we can talk some more. Are you okay with that?” 

You’re still frozen in equal parts shock and fear; too scared to say no. 

“Umm. . .yeah. Yeah, we can go to the back,” you swallow and she brisks you away to what you assume is where all the paperwork is housed that they need help making sense of resides. 

You arrive outside of a closed wooden door and Natalie steps in front of it, her arms coming down to hug the hinges of it in a way that makes you slightly worried. “So I know that you’re not a hospitality attorney and I know that you’re doing this for free and you’re totally at liberty to say you want out the second you say the word,” she speaks softly. 

You know that she’s starting to panic. Your feelings and her feelings are starting to merge into one; two halves of the same whole – people pleasers. 

“But it’s. . .a lot and I don’t know even know where to start and this is legitimately driving me insane so –” 

Her anxiety starts to break your heart. The pang in your chest makes your decision for you. No matter how uncomfortable you are, you know you need to do the right thing out of the kindness of your own heart. 

“No, it’s fine!” you cut her off, “I’ll take a look and we’ll figure it out. Nothing you have here is too much. I can promise you that.” 

Ocean blue irises engulf you with sentiment and appreciation through their gaze. Natalie’s shoulders sag before her hand finds the gold doorknob. A deep breath adds to the noise of chatter and squeaks of the faulty fire alarm in the hallway. The oak door opens with a wheeze and a groan; stuck because of the swell its wood causes from the constant fluctuation of temperatures in Chicago. 

“Well,” she begins, “Here it is.” 

The mountains of cardboard boxes all labeled with acronyms and doodled with nonsense send the pit in your stomach down to your toes and through the center of the Earth. 

Holy fucking shit. 

Natalie notices your shock and starts to go back into “fix-it” mode. She hasn’t eaten at all today, but she figures that the emotions bubbling up and down at a fixed and constant rate are what fill her insides and are making her nauseous. Bile starts to make its way up her throat but she forces it back down. 

She’ll be damned if this goes even more sour than how she knows it has. 

“It’s a lot and it’s more sorting things and making them make sense than doing actual work? Like you’re gonna be doing work but it’s not rocket science. . . Not that being an attorney isn’t hard! My husband is one and I. . .need to shut up now,” she word vomits. Despite the apparent fact that she’s panicking, the sound of her voice is soothing and the gentle hand she places on the junction between the base of your neck and your shoulder does wonders to ground you. “And there’s no rush to have all of it done. It’s a work at your own pace kinda thing?” 

You both know that she’s fibbing about the last part. 

The frantic text at 11 PM last week and the hour-long phone call debriefs you had yesterday and three days before say otherwise. This is her compromising and making her needs smaller. This is her being like you and you being like her; being like each other. Digging yourself into holes to help others no matter the effort – no matter the pain. 

“No, I’m doing this because I want to. Just let me know exactly what you need and we can get to it as soon as possible.” 

You know that you must have said the golden word because as soon as the statement leaves your mouth, Natalie whips out her phone and starts reading off a list she had compiled of all things that have some link to the legal world. 

Contracts. Permits. Tax revenue sheets. Paystubs. Workers Compensation. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. City Ordinances. Chicago royally fucking anyone who dares to open a business, really. 

The sad part is that this should scare you. This should make you want to run out of here and never look back and purposely take the long way to get somewhere if you knew where you were headed would cross paths with the restaurant. 

But you don’t do any of that, and the buzz of finally doing something that you know is helping people overpowers the migraine of stress you can feel looming over you the second you agree to help them out. 

“You’re amazing,” she says, eyes twinkling with admiration. 

Your cheeks turn a shade of baby pink that you hope she can’t see. You’ve never taken well to flattery. 

Richie’s knuckles give a soft knock on the door and it opens before either of you can think to welcome another presence. His gaze finds both of you fist-deep into the first box labeled “Cocksuckers: For IRS - 1987.” You already know that he’s not related to the Berzattos by blood, but the beautiful blue eyes make you question that fact. He gives a sheepish smile almost to apologize for his interruption and you think he’s about to apologize before he opens his mouth and says, “Suge, your dashing baby brother is bout to blow a fuse because the fed is here.” 

Natalie stops what she’s doing. Her hands come to rest on the flimsy cardboard box and she throws her head back to eye the ceiling. If she can count the row of six vertically, maybe she can slow her breathing and calm herself down enough to spare Carmy the chewing out of a lifetime. 

One. 

“Sugar!” 

Two. 

“Get the fuck off me!” 

Three. 

“I said get the fuck off me! I need to see my fuckin’ sister!” 

Four. 

“Sugar!” 

Five. 

“Leave me the fuck alone!” 

Six. 

“Natalie!” 

Her brother appears in front of her disheveled and angry. Even though she’s only five years older than he is, she always sees him as the little baby she used to put in her strollers and push around for years until he got too big and too “grown” to think playing with his older sister was cool. Years spent with him also meant years studying him; knowing his ticks down to the smallest one and learning how he expresses every emotion. 

It was the only way she survived living in that house until she was eighteen. 

Dealing with an angry Carmen is nothing in comparison to dealing with an angry Michael or even attempting to console a slightly agitated mother. 

Besides, Carmy’s anger, while often misguided and very explosive, was never unexpected. He always has a tell and there’s always a few seconds before he completely comes unglued. Adult temper tantrums are shit shows, and quite frankly she’s fed up with having to diffuse one of his every couple of hours as of late. 

Her face starts to fall when she sees Carmen’s left eye begins to create that deep crinkle it does when he gets pissed. He starts to wrinkle his nose and she knows that he’s about to start screaming. 

Richie lets out a whistle before pushing Carmen’s head in a playful yet agitated manner. Before his hand can be swatted at, he jumps out of the way and joins in on a distant conversation about his daughter’s last dance recital. 

He has a smug grin on his face that Carmen wants nothing more than to slap off him. He knew that touching him would provoke him even more.  

Richie always has to poke the bear. 

Always. 

Carmen tries to contain his anger the best he can. Even though he’s totally against the idea of having you in the building, he knows there’s jackshit he can do about it now. Sydney said yes, Natalie sought you out, and Uncle Jimmy thought the idea was brilliant. The vote was three against one and he knows that all he can do is go fuck himself. So much for everyone promising not to make decisions about the restaurant without his okay. 

It’s not like his credit will be the one that’s fucked if this place turns to shit. 

His arm stretches to hold the side of the door’s hinge and supports his body weight as he leans to the right. “You hired a fucking attorney and didn’t tell me?” he snaps. His face pinches in a way that brings his nose, eyes, and mouth closer together; a face their mom used to make before she came totally unglued. 

You have your back turned toward the door he’s looming in. Something about being targeted makes you want to be blind to it; to shut your eyes as tightly as you can and will it away. You know that the way he’s acting has everything to do with him and nothing to do with you, but you can’t help it. When you feel out of place, every action to push you further out feels personal. 

“She’s doing it for free,” Natalie scoffs, putting a lid back on one of the boxes and crossing her arms over her chest. She would offer up more information, but what would be the use if Carmy is as wound up as he is? 

“Free means “fuck.” She’s gonna fuck us, Sugar, and you don’t even fucking care!” he screeches, seemingly uncaring that you’re right in front of him and that he’s biting his sister’s head off as if it’s nothing. 

You start to pull files out of the boxes faster than you were before. The distraction is needed because you know that if you listen too intently to what else is being said, you’ll start internalizing it later. 

Nothing with you. Everything with him. Nothing with you. Everything with him. 

“No. She is not gonna fuck us,” she pushes a finger into his chest and her nostrils flaring, “You’re gonna fuck us because you’re being so stubborn and stupid and can’t have a goddamn conversation like an adult.” 

His chest pushes deeper into his sister’s finger. “You calling me a baby? You calling me a fucking baby?” 

Carmen usually isn’t one to pick a fight in his everyday life, but once he gets started he refuses to back down. The rational part of his brain knows that he’s going overboard but he can’t help himself. The rage inside has nowhere to go and this whole thing is really pissing him off. He’s so fucking sick of everyone acting like he’s too immature and irresponsible to handle things.

Natalie’s finger comes out to become a full palm. “Well then stop the yelling. Stop the pissy pamper attitude. Stop wasting our fucking time and just admit that you’re way over your fucking head and don’t know everything.” 

Carmen balls his hands into fists and licks his lips to prevent him from saying something really fucking mean. He knows that Natalie is just trying to help but she always is, and it fucking sucks when she always saves the day even when he doesn’t want her to. The restaurant was supposed to be theirs; supposed to be all him and Mikey and everyone who made them into the people they are. It was never supposed to be his. It was never supposed to be his when he has not a goddamn clue what he’s doing and Natalie driving herself borderline insane trying to proactively fix everything before it turns to shit. 

He doesn’t know what to say because she’s right. Sugar is always right and Carmen is always wrong and he wishes Michael was here to balance them out; to add a third option so it wasn’t so split. 

But he’s not here. He won’t be here. He never really was here. 

“Fuck!” he yells at the top of his lungs. 

“Fuck!” Natalie shouts back. 

Argument over. 

His shoes slide on the floor with ease and he tries to steady his breathing. His arms let go of the door frame and his head hangs with the dissatisfaction of still housing a boulder of anger. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he whispers, voice growing smaller as he walks away. A loud clash of hollowed metal is heard shortly after. “Fuck!” 

“Punching the lockers doesn’t get rid of the fact you’re a little bitch, Cousin.” 

Richie has to poke the bear. 

Always.

[weirdmageddon]

i posted this on twitter also but it’s still eating at me. i’m so fucking embarrassed to be jewish rn. i dont want to be associated with this ongoing bullshit from israel. why do we need our own state. theyre just making every jew across the globe look bad in general even though many of us are conflicted about zionism and the legitimacy of israel as a state

people have hated jews throughout history for no fuckin reason but now israel exists but now its like. GIVING people reasons to hate us as a group. note that i DON’T conflate zionism with jewishness, but a lot of people in the world don’t know the difference because theyre uninformed and been dripfed cultural antisemitic tropes their whole life and that’s the scary part is them falsely putting two and two together. like what the fuck israel stop youre just putting fuel on the fire for people around the world to hate an entire group of historically persecuted people if youre being this shitty with your insane colonialism and apartheid like……I Want No Fuckin Part Of This. you’re spelling our own doom. you cant just swoop in and go “mine now” and then oppress the people you took land from under a regime without my blood boiling at the injustice no matter WHO you are. even if my lineage is tied to you. so when news outlets support israel it doesn’t feel like they have the best interest of jews as a people in mind. it’s in the interest of a zionist ethnostate and whatever that christian zionism belief is about the jewish people returning to the holy land as prerequisite for the second coming of jesus. its not like they care about us as a dispersed ethnocultural group, it’s all for that religious narrative that a bunch of people in the US are backing.

saying you want all jews to die is antisemitic. beating someone up because they’re jewish and no other reason without knowing their views is antisemitic. criticizing human rights violations perpetrated by israel and the belief that one group deserves more rights another is not antisemitic. and the fact that israel has the ability to pull that antisemitism card in response to criticisms of the violations they commit because their state is the “jewish homeland” drives me fucking insane. take fucking accountability for your actions. and yes, there do exist full-on anti-jewish groups in the middle east that go beyond hatred of israel’s policies and existence as a state and i’m tired of people pretending there aren’t in fear of appearing to seem like they support the state of israel. on the other side of things many people overestimate this by fearmongering and saying EVERY arab is out to get jews worldwide, telling people like me “they want YOU dead”. this is not the belief every person in the middle east and it really rubs me the wrong way that people group millions of individuals into all-encompassing lumps like this. many people there do understand nuance of this political situation.

even if i have that “right of return” by israeli law or whatever, i don’t feel obliged to it; it does not register as fair. why do i have a “right of return” when i’ve never even been there in the first place while palestinians who have homes there can’t return to them? what’s the basis for that? substituting objective reality with an imaginary reality? i don’t think like that. i can hypothetically come and go whenever i please but palestinians are severely limited in mobility? what makes me more entitled to that land than the people who lived there for centuries? nothing that comes from natural law thats for sure. it’s all artificial and inflated.

but at the same time i also dont want to be the target of antisemitism and caught in the fray just for being ethnically jewish. once people start calling for the genocide of entire groups we’ve got issues (and you better believe this absolutely applies to the palestinian victims in gaza too), because people who dissent to the violence perpetrated by the loudest are caught in there with the people who are perpetrating the violence. lack of nuance. people conflating israel and its zionist apartheid policies with jewish ethnicity and culture worldwide. other people conflating being terrorist anti-jew with muslims worldwide (like that 6-year old palestinian-american boy that was just stabbed to death in chicago). scary times man. but as a jew i can’t just opt out of this if it’s how i was born as. i don’t have control over that. but i can control what i think and what my beliefs are