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carebearbussy · 2 months

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𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙮𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙪𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙪𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙚𝙩 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1.4K

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Truly, this moment was heaven sent.

You had convinced Sukuna to take a walk with you in your favorite place in the estate, the courtyard. It truly was a sight to see. The green grass really contrasted well with the beauty of the sakura trees, with them being in full bloom for the occasion. But what was truly the icing on the cake, was being in Sukunas presence. He always seemed to ease your nerves without fail.

And the same could be said vice versa. For some reason, you faltered his facade bit by bit, to his annoyance. But when you had asked to take a walk with him, he was pleased by this. You two didn't really talk too much on your walk through the courtyard, being more than content with each others company, since you usually don't get too much alone time.

Sukuna walked a few feet in front of you, as you followed him, entranced by the way he carries himself. You found yourself studying his features, and the way he carried himself. It was no wonder he had so many woman fall to his side. He truthfully exuded so much confidence, and was just so god damn masculine. Even the way he walked, slowly striding himself, would make anybody falter their movements.

"I can feel you staring at me, you know. You are truly foolish if you did not think I would notice." He remarks, amused by what is going on behind him. "Oh sorry ... I couldn't help it 'kuna." You say as you bow your head, while Sukuna turns your way, stopping in front of a particularly large sakura tree. You couldn't help but smile at the fact that he noticed. But you knew you had his favor. If this was another concubine doing that, they would have lost their head by now.

"That is no matter. You are quite the observant one aren't you?" He says, laughing to himself to the nickname you have given him. The wind blows at a relaxing pace, truly bringing out the best of the moment.

But your small moment is interrupted when you see a group of mid ranking concubines, one of them being a higher rank than the rest. They walk, and chuckle to themselves. And then they notice you, and you can see their faces churn into disgust.

"Look at me, not them. They hold no value."

It is well known around the estate that you are Sukunas favorite concubine, and are treated within his favor. And for that reason, they absolutely despise you. You see they start whispering to themselves, oh great. Probably the basics, about how 'shes a whore', or the classic 'she's the biggest bitch'.

You see them sit around a large fountain in the middle of one of the sections of the courtyard. You remember this was the place you were first aquatinted by Sukuna. But this was also the place where "Y/N's personal hate club" took place. They would sit around the fountain and make remarks and joke to themselves about you. You could tell they were insecure, and one could say jealous. But they were supposed to be people you could rely on. Instead, you have Sukuna.

They giggle and start pointing at you, and make gestures such as tripping and falling to make fun of you, since they know you are clumsy. Then you overhear them mimicking you, saying "Oh my god i'm so clumsy! 'Kuna come save me!". And finishing with a loud group laugh. Another chimes in, saying "I want attention 'Kuna! Give me the attention I deserve!" It all gets too your head all too often, and leaves you in a mess of your own thoughts, are you too reliant on him? but you try your best to keep your composure.

You feel a wince in your feet, the Geta shoes rubbing up against the crevice of your two toes, making you falter a bit in your steps."Whats wrong, your foot? Cant walk when a couple of broads are making fun of you?" He mimics. "No- theres a rash on my foot I think." You say, as you wince yet again due to the discomfort. You moved your leg off the ground, causing you to hold yourself up barely with one leg.

Sukuna sighs, as he takes a good look at you."You need me to baby you? You can't stand on your own? If you want me to carry, just say so." He spoke, as he walks towards you, picking you up with his lower set of hands, carrying you on his back. "Just shut up and enjoy the walk." Firmly stating, and clearly imposing that to him, this is very sacred. He wouldn't even give another woman another glance, but for you he would. And a piggyback ride? How could you say no?

You freely hang your arms

"Lets continue." he says firmly. You smile to yourself at the fact that you are currently being carried by a behemoth of a man. You turn to look at the group of girls, and notice they have stopped their antics, and instead have proceeded to look at the two of you, dumbfounded. You gesture a small wave towards them, adding onto your bragging, which made one of them gasp out. It made you feel better about the fact that you would get constantly harassed by them. It made you feel better that you knew you were better at the end of the day.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

You watch as the women disappear into the distance, and continue the focus on Sukuna. "Why must you and your kind always focus on such idiotic things?" He says, breaking the silence of your peaceful walk. "Its not 'idiotic' 'kuna. You wouldn't understand, since you aren't' 'one of my kind'." You say sarcastically with a giggle. Sukuna shakes his dead with a disapproving manner.

"Why must you always text my patience woman?", He asks. "But you don't seem to mind." Silence falls over the two of you except for a annoyed 'tsk', Sukuna clearly not wanting to respond.

That silence is broken as you walk past a mandarin tree, your favorites. You were hoping Sukuna would notice, and to your avail, he did. He pauses his walking, and looks over to you with his bottom set of eyes. "Don't keep me waiting, hurry up and pick your damn fruits."

In reality, he adored indulging your antics. He has implanted a small garden just for you. He knew you likes the local mandarins that he had a butler pick for you at the market. So why not give you a whole garden? He secretly loved seeing your face light up, and the special little way you shot him a toothy grin. It was charming to him.

He watched as you picked up a mandarin off the lively tree, enjoying the way your sleeve outstretched. He remembered he had gotten that kimono custom tailored to your liking, and the flow of the outfit to his preference. "Hm... ill pick..." "We don't have all day brat." he says, with a roll of the eyes. You can tell he was being sarcastic, you knew him too well.

"Fine..." You say, giving him a roll to the eyes back. You grab the mandarin, and he continues walking. The mandarin was plump, just like you predicted. But it was particularly hard to peel. Your nails couldn't seem to do the job.

"'Kuna, can you help me please?" You say, stretching the mandarin in front of his gaze. You can tell Sukuna is unamused. "You can't open a fruit on your own? What would you be without me, honestly." He says as he takes the mandarin into his hand, peeling it with ease. You watch over his shoulder in awe at his handwork. "Here, eat what I give you." He hands you a slice of the mandarin and opens your mouth with one finger, and places a slice in your mouth with another finger.

You gladly eat it, happy with the attention Sukuna is giving you. Some of the juice dribbles onto your chin, as Sukuna wipes it with his left hand, then wiping it onto his kimono.

With his bottom set of eyes, they study your face. You are asleep. You must have fallen asleep due to him practically cradling you. The mix of the slight bounce in his steps, and the way he was holding you with his lower arms made you feel secure. He scoffed to himself at the sight.

"You should be grateful for the treatment I give you, brat."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

#sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #heian sukuna #heian era sukuna #heian sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x Charlotte #heian #heian era #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x Charlotte #jjk smut #sukuna fluff

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rubysparx · 9 months

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Honestly I don't think I'm qualified to make this post, I just don't know if I can make coherent enough words man. But the thoughts are in there and I will try to articulate them. This is probably going to be mostly images though. anyway yeah KABRU POST.

A couple nights ago (at approximately 2:30am, lasting a little over half an hour) I had a bit of a moment about Kabru. That, too, was mostly images- most of what you see in this more concise post were presented then as well. I think my main points of the "moment" were about Kabru's trauma + self hatred, his autism and/or general otherness, and also a little labru if you'd like..

I think something easy to start with is I wanna point out Kabru's constant back and forth and conflicting opinions of demihumans and how, I believe, thats a reflection of how he goes back and forth on what he believes his purpose of living is- and the general worth of his own life. I've said it before and i've just kinda shown it in images; Kabru is "i think im a monster and it disgusts me" where Laios is "I know im a human and it disgusts me" (i could go more into the latter on another post)

the above are both from the world bible, with the left being from the section on kobolds and the right being from the section on Kuro specifically. Utaya was very near to the desert where most of the kobold population is, this is likely why Kabru is able to speak Kuro's language- he grew up around demihumans. (chapter 48 cover, kobold chapter in the world bible) I won't try to speak for how his mother or the rest of utaya felt about the kobolds but I can say that Kabru was very much othered as a child, as was his mother, purely for the way her son's (kabru) eyes looked.

I feel like its fair enough to say that both kabru and the kobolds were othered, and possibly for similar reasons (villager's seeing them as nonhuman, as monsters) and the fact that Kabru learned their language probably didn't help his case. I think his perception of kobolds (and all demihumans, subsequently himself, as he probably still views himself as nonhuman or not human enough.. deep down) was damaged by the Utaya incident. at 2:30am when I first started this ramble my main comment was that "had the utaya incident not happened kabru would have little reason to feel ashamed for his connection to monsters. and may have ended up similar to laios in that he couldve had otherkin swag" which is just a sort of silly way of saying Kabru could've learned to love the thought that he is possibly nonhuman or at least not hated himself so much for it.

in the original ramble I said, and quote, "he has been STALKING laios. laios is his hyperfixation to learn how he can ever be loved. he keeps going back and forth so harshly on wether or not he wants to kill Laios and he clearly sees his survival from utaya not as an unfortunate trauma [*] but as a necessary, deserved fate. a punishment for his mother's witchy sins, and for his sin of being non-human. to atone for it all, to apologize for being alive, he tries to better the lives of all humanity. He was set on his way to dethrone the governor of the island . do you understand? im going insane" *i also said somethings about the way he processes other people's traumas and not his own. He's able to understand and even help some people, but he struggles to process his own issues and see himself as worthy of love and life.

^some examples of Kabru being understanding of or helping others who have suffered greatly. I think its also worth mentioning that with Rin (called "Lynn" in that translation) he says "I wish there was a way to get her out of this" though he's insisted and pushed for himself to go into a dungeon;

In chapter 94, Mithrun says "The desire I had left wasn't revenge. All I wanted.. was for it to finish devouring me." and I don't feel like it's a stretch to say Kabru was in a similar situation. Mithrun sought out the demon with no plan on how to kill something like that because deep down he wanted it to end his (Mithrun's) own life, to finish the trauma it caused and kill him. I think Kabru went into the dungeon in part with the hopes that it'd kill him. That the same thing that destroyed Utaya and caused him so much trauma would just.. finish him.

I just think Kabru is a beautifully complex character, I have a lotta thoughts on him and I don't see nearly as many analysis posts for him than I do Laios (despite labru being such a popular ship)

there is no tldr for this post idk how to summarize it. do what you will with this collection of images. have fun. go crazy

fun fact the woman in the bottom left corner is his mother, she is labeled here as "witch"

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #kabru #kabru dungeon meshi #kabios #labru #yeah its a long post i dont care. read it #also i only mentioned it briefly but i do think kabru is autistic .#yk that post thats like 'no im not autistic i know all the social cues etc etc etc. hey wait a minute' yeah. that #ok whatever. starts making another laios post

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luveline · 4 months

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JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones.

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does.

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad.

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him.

“Super Pup?”

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.”

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart.

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind.

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his.

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike.

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work.

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?”

“Me and dad are looking for books.”

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him.

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?”

“I want to read Super Pup.”

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?”

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.”

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?”

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.”

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section.

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.”

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say.

“Dad!”

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains.

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.”

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.”

“I can see,” he says softly.

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed.

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says.

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.”

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says.

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.”

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.”

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing.

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.”

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you.

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.”

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate.

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place.

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads.

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying.

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.”

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.”

“It’s Jack’s birthday.”

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.”

“Do you do that for every kid?”

“I do.”

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.”

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ”

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words.

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says.

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all.

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive.

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose.

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane.

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?”

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop.

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch.

“We have something for you,” Jack says.

You stand straight. “You do?”

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me.

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask.

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says.

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company.

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side.

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier,

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron.

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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honeytonedhottie · 3 months

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celebrity energy⋆.ೃ࿔*:･💅🏽

so i got an ask about this a while ago and i wanted to make a post about it but i went on hiatus 😭 so im making the post now. thank you to the anonie who asked the question that inspired this post and i hope you see this cuz it answers ur ask...💬🎀

THE TRIPLE C'S ;

while making the notes for celebrity energy (the big C) and i was able to umbrella it to three main points. those points being confidence, cuntiness, and charisma.

confidence ; celebrities need to have undeniable confidence in themselves and their abilities. they're famous for a reason and they know that. work on ur self concept and watch ur confidence sky rocket.

cuntiness ; to be cunty is to be feminine and aware of urself. be cunty in the things that u do and the way that u handle urself. to be cunty is to find the perfect balance of inner strength and delicateness. cunt = refined.

charisma ; authenticity is the heart of charisma. be authentic and dont be afraid to take up space.

ALL ABOUT IMAGE ;

to have celebrity you need an image to put forward. this is where the power of social media comes in. your social media is like your brand. in this day and age social media is such a powerful tool not only for networking but also for getting u into places that u wanna get to.

in order to do that though u need to learn how to formulate ur own distinct image and advertise it expertly on social media.

PERSONAL BRAND AND REPUTATION ;

to further touch on those points ur social media IS your brand. this section kind of ties in with the next but im trying to distinguish between the two. so ur personal brand is what u do. so lets say ur rly SUPER smart and ur known for getting A's on like everything.

that is ur personal brand and that comes with a reputation that u may or may not feel obligated to uphold. but its important to uphold a reputation of some sort. with that being said be careful of what u post on ur social media because DIGITAL FOOTPRINT IS REAL. and when people look at ur social media they're seeing a representation of what ur putting out to the world so always be mindful.

WHATS UR SIGNATURE ;

you need something about yourself that’s gonna set you apart. the way that you walk the way that you dress the way that you do ur makeup etc. decide what kind of energy u wanna serve, and SERVE IT. i choose to serve princess energy and i could write a whole separate post on that but find someone who serves that same energy so that u can learn from them.

remember, dont introduce urself as a vibe that u cannot maintain

but back to what we were talking about what is your SIGNATURE. what makes u or people think "yea thats so (insert ur name)" is the way that u talk or the way that u carry yourself. make sure to refine urself and be ur own distinct individual.

and dont be afraid to play around with signatures, ur allowed to have a few or one singular one, dont limit urself and keep trying until u can create the perfect one for you…💬🎀

while on the topic of signatures i wanna touch on STAR QUALITY. learn how to market urself not only as a person but as ur own brand. star quality is the perfect blend of (talent + training + confidence)

POLISH YOURSELF ;

refinement refinement refinement. u need to be studying yourself and you need to be able to see urself from other point of views. seeing urself from other point of views can be so refreshing and useful and it rly helps when ur trying to polish urself.

take impeccable care for urself and constantly show urself that u love urself. polish the way that u talk and the way that u carry yourself so that u can be exuding so much you-energy. its basically taking ur signature and the energy that u exude -> and refining it.

you have to create the energy before fame comes. if u wanna have celebrity energy u have to start getting comfortable with putting urself out there which leads me to my next point...💬🎀

KILL CRINGE ;

when people call u cringe thats like them exposing their fear of being seen and analyzed by the world. they're upset because ur putting urself out there and they're insecure, but thats for them to fix within themselves. so dont take it personally when someone calls u cringe.

furthermore ur fear of being cringe is holding u back because ur always overthinking everything and u won't let urself do anything even if it'll help you because ur worried it might be cringe or ur worried what other people think so nip that in the bud and let urself live! u might have haters but dont let urself be ur own hater.

SOME MORE SOURCES ;

THE IMPORTANCE OF BRANDING

MIRROR WORK + AFFIRMATIONS

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mostly-imagines · 4 months

Text

So This Is Love

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you show each other what love is supposed to be like

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: section 1: close-call panic attack for j, mentions of ptsd for j // section 2: implied sexual activity // section 3: mild angst w comfort // section 4: implied ptsd for j

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.

The nightmare wasn’t anything unusual for him, but it did feel particularly vivid tonight. It was more of a memory than anything, though. That same one that plays on a loop in his head throughout the night the more he tries to push it away during the day. It was the last thwack of the crowbar that had him jolt awake in bed.

You shift in your spot next to him, opening your eyes to see his rattled state. If he’d been in a clearer frame of mind he would’ve lied to you. He would’ve expertly leveled his breathing and told you everything was fine and to go back to sleep.

But instead, he looks over at you with wide eyes, chest heaving and shaking like he might start hyperventilating at any moment.

You shoot up from the bed, instantly on alert. This isn’t the first time he’s had one of these nightmares around you, so it’s not hard for you to guess where this is coming from.

“Jay? What’s—what do you need?” You know better than to try and touch him unprompted right now, you’ve panicked enough yourself to know that sudden contact only makes it worse.

“I—I can’t, I—” Now he really looks like he’s about to lose all control of his breathing.

You sit up further, moving onto your knees. “Here, let me—can I see your hand?” you ask gently, holding your own out.

He extends it to you without question, a tiny act of vulnerability that he couldn’t have dreamed of doing in this state before he met you.

You flip his hand over, palm-up and start tracing lines over it in the moonlight. You’re looking at his hand quite intently like there’s something very important on it. It’s enough to make him question what the hell you’re doing.

“I can read palms.” You tell him, simply.

“What?” His voice almost breaks, like he’s right at the edge of tears.

“Yeah, my friend taught me. I can tell the future and everything.” You look up at him, fingers not stopping their trailing. “Do you wanna hear yours?”

All he can do is nod.

You smile and start to inspect his hand carefully, tracing over calluses and a few tiny scars. You draw your finger across the short, deep line parallel to his fingers.

“This one…see the way it curves upwards right there?” He nods. “That means you’re very resourceful and ambitious. Like a leader.” His breathing starts to slow as he watches you, trying to focus on what you’re showing him in the dim light from the window.

“And this one,” you trace the line that curves downwards in the middle, “This one says that you’re strong and stubborn, which I can confirm,” he huffs out a laugh. It’s little but it’s genuine. “But it also means that you’re resilient. You’re built to overcome things and bounce back even stronger because of them. Which I can also confirm.”

He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He takes in a deep breath, watching you draw patterns across the base of his palm.

The sensation soothes him in a way that he frankly didn’t know he could be soothed. He figures he usually can’t, except when it’s you. He tries to match your breathing, syncing up with you. If anyone else tried to get this close to him when he was on the verge of a panic attack they’d get punched, at best.

But you…you always know how to help him. He’s considered in the past that he did something really right somewhere down the line and you were sent to him as reward. He’d racked his mind for hours of every good thing he’d ever done, trying to find one that could explain your presence in his life. For anything that could explain why he deserved you. He poured and poured over every memory he could dig up but couldn’t find any good he’d ever done that surmounted to a single piece of the good in your heart.

There was a time when he would’ve thought—when he did think that you were only in his life to be taken away as soon as he felt safe. That would certainly be in line with previous experiences. But you showed him quickly that you have this way about you…it makes those loud thoughts in the back of his head shut up and just listen. Listen to your words, your breathing, your footsteps, your laugh…anything he could. Because it turns out, when he listens, he feels safe.

He’s quiet for a long time, contentedly watching you work. He notices that at some point you’d stopped tracing the lines and began drawing designs instead.

He breaks the silence after several minutes, softly commenting, “You don’t know how to read palms.”

“No, I do not.”

But you continued to leave your invisible art on the palm of his hand just the same, both of you taking comfort in the sound of the other's breathing and the soothing feeling of each other’s skin.

The radio plays lightly in the background, surrounding your night with soft ambience. You’re working at the cutting board with tomatoes as Jason leans against the counter next to you, having just finished getting the pasta set up on the stove.

His hands find your hips, resting them there as he watches you work over your shoulder.

“Watch your thumb.” He comments when the knife gets a little too close for his liking.

You shrug him off, “I know how to do it.”

He eyes the way the knife stutters as you cut through the tomato, slicing through not very cleanly at all. “Doesn’t look like it.”

You ignore him, elbowing him gently in the abdomen. He’s joking, but he’s not. The skill level you’re displaying is only above Bruce and slightly below Tim, which is not great.

“Will you let me do it?” he asks you when he realizes there’s going to be no improvement.

“Fine.” You relent with faux annoyance.

You switch over to the stovetop, keeping a careful eye on the pasta as it cooks. It’s quiet for a moment as he works, chopping with much more efficiency than you had.

“You didn’t have to stay here tonight, you know.” You say quietly, still intently watching the stove.

In spite of the music, your low volume does nothing to faze him as he continues his actions, “Why wouldn’t I?”

You stir the contents of the saucepan around. “Well, I know Roy wanted you to go out…”

“Not missing much.” He mumbles, opening up the above cabinet to get out plates.

You lull your head to the side, “Come on, he’s your best friend.”

Jason frowns. “He’s not my best friend.”

You turn your head towards him, “No?”

He meets your gaze, frown consistent. “No. You are.” He says it like he’s confused that you don’t know that.

“Oh.” You smile, “You’re my best friend too.”

His eyes soften at that, a light smile gracing his lips. He knew that, and he knew you’d say it, but hearing it out loud just…does something to him.

You flick the stove top off, prompting him to on instinct reach for the Marinara jar and crack it open for you. He hands it to you and you accept with a smile, twisting it open the rest of the way as you turn back to the stove. The jar sputters as you open, spitting out sauce.

“Oh, shit.” You hiss, when the splatter hits your shirt.

He takes one glance at the mess on your shirt and pulls his own shirt off his back. He’s tugging yours off just as fast, replacing it with his. You’ve barely processed what happened as he scans your body, eyes lingering on where his shirt stops at your thighs. “Can you wear this to bed tonight?” He asks, hands running over your waist.

You laugh, “Really?”

He meets your eyes, face serious. “Yes.” He squeezes your hip, “You look good.”

“In your shirt.” You say with a knowing smile.

“In my shirt.” He confirms.

You turn back to the stove to dish out the salsa, his hands skimming around your thighs as you do. He watches you as you work, though rather than watching your hands he’s fixated on the size of his shirt over you and how fucking good you look right now.

“Or…” He sweeps his eyes over your legs before looking back up at you again. “Did’ya turn the stove off?”

You tilt your head at him, “I did…?”

He grins at you, lifting you up by your thighs til you’re a head above him. “Good.” He maneuvers you over to the counter, setting you on top. He brings your wrist up to his mouth to press a delicate kiss before dropping to his knees.

You’ve been laying in bed for at least three hours, bordering on sleep but never quite falling in. You and Jason had a little spat, though nothing insurmountable, it was still the biggest fight you’ve had to date. You’d tried going out (at night) to see your friend that was having a hard time, and yeah, you should’ve told Jason you were going. It was only five blocks, give or take, but in Gotham at eleven o’clock at night, it’s a risk to say the least.

You should’ve told Jason, you know. But he wouldn’t have let you go or would’ve insisted on putting hold on patrolling to accompany you. You always feel bad when he does that—people could be getting hurt somewhere because you needed your boyfriend to walk you down the street. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter in the end because he caught you red handed before you’d even made it a full block away. Of all the nights for him to come home early, it had to be this one.

He dropped down from the rooftop behind you and scared the absolute hell out of you, and you didn’t even have time to be relieved that it was just him because he was on you in a flash.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” His voice was hard through the modulator, a rare tone for him to use with you.

“I just—my friend��” he sounded tired and angry, sure signs that he’d really not had a good night so far which was probably all the more reason that you shouldn’t have been out by yourself in the middle of the night.

“What are you—no! Go home. Now.” You would’ve, you really would’ve, but your friend called you crying about her boyfriend cheating on her again and she needed the in person support.

“Ja—” You’d cut yourself off, “It’s down the street, it’s fine—” He dropped his shoulders in a huff and faced you dead-on. You didn’t need him to take his helmet off to know exactly how he was looking at you.

He dropped down and hooked his arm around the back of your legs, lifting you off the ground with no discernible effort. “Wha—”

He started walking before you were even fully planted on his shoulder, arm wrapping around your legs to hold you in place.

“Hood! I am so fucking serious, put me down!” You swatted at his back and struggled in his grip, though in the back of your mind you knew it was a pointless effort. Even if you were a match in size, whatever mood he’d been pushed in was enough to guarantee that you had no chance.

He ignored you, not even pretending that you were giving him any difficulty with your squirming. He marched you back down the block to your apartment, not stopping until you’re outside your door. He set you down in between him and the entrance, digging into his pocket for his key.

He kicked the door shut behind him, finally letting you go. He wordlessly grabbed one of his spare guns and two cartridges of ammo from inside the closet by the door and turned back to you with a firm stance. “Stay here.”

You immediately tried to push past him again, at that point more angry about him dragging you back here than about having to duck out on your friend. He stopped you, holding you by the arms, which led you to respond by raising your voice at him, “Jason!”

But he didn’t waste any time letting you know how it is, “I will lock you in this fucking apartment. Stay. Here.” Him cursing at you like that was very rare and not a particularly good sign, so through your anger you’d made the decision that it was better to relent, for now. Your posture dropped and you frowned at him resentfully, a visible cue that you were giving in without you having to say it.

He stayed true to his word and locked the door on his way out, though knowing you could easily unlock it from the inside. You’d trudged into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

Now you lay on Jason’s usual side of the bed, partially because you do miss him, partially because the bed feels a little less empty when you can’t see all the empty space. You know he was just trying to keep you safe after what was probably a rough start to the night, so you feel less than great that you’d yelled at him.

Your dwelling over the memory is interrupted by a quiet creak of the bedroom door. You blink up at him blearily, “Jay?” You sit up, furrowing your brow. You didn’t even hear him come home. “What’s wrong?” You figure he must be hurt to come in here—it’s not unknown for him to sleep on the couch if he feels like he did something wrong or upset you.

Your eyes attempt to adjust to the darkness, scanning over him for any injuries. He’s out of his armor and in his regular clothes which means he must have showered already. And you know from dozens of nights patching him up that he always tends to his injuries before showering.

This leaves you confused, as you look up at him, waiting for an answer. “I can’t…I don’t want to sleep without you.” He whispers, eyes on the floor.

You shuffle back into your usual spot near the wall and hold your hand out to him expectantly. You’re still a bit cross with him, but you miss him too much to care right now.

It takes him a second to move, but he eventually lingers away from the door and makes his way to the bed. He takes your hand as he climbs onto the bed, letting go only when you lay down after him, staring up at the ceiling next to him.

You weren’t entirely expecting him to wrap his arms around you and tug you into his chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’d assumed he would lay on his side and you on yours and that would be enough for him to fall asleep with. Instead, he tightens his arms and buries his face into the crook of your neck. You lay there in silence for a couple minutes, both thinking.

“You’re mad.” He mumbles into your shoulder after a while. You know he feels badly about the dispute, you knew it while it was still happening. As hard as he tries, he’s not very good at hiding his emotions. Not with you, anyways.

You shrug slightly. “Barely. I’ll get over it. This is more important.”

He picks his head up to look at you, “I love you. You know that?”

You wiggle out of his grip a bit, making him frown. You use the new space to flip over to face him, before placing his arm back around your waist. You peek up at him, looking him in the eyes, “I do. You know I love you. Even when we fight.”

He looks at you like he’s a bit thrown off by your words. “I’m sorry. It was just…it was a rough night…I—I’m sorry.” He tells you dolefully.

You shake your head, frowning. “Don’t be. I should’ve texted you.”

“It—yeah. Please. I just worry about you.” He looks so sad and it makes you feel somehow worse.

“I know,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He kisses your forehead, not moving away after.

You feel like you can finally relax and your tense body doesn’t take long to slacken in his hold. Soon after, he does the same, both of you closing your eyes. You feel your heart slow and your mind starts to find a space of peace.

Before you crash out, you mumble out, “I’m going to be a little passive aggressive in the morning, though.”

“I’d hope so.”

Jason didn’t get it at first.

Honestly, he didn’t really realize that you noticed things about him that even he didn’t see.

Your neighbor was having their place remodeled and you knew there would be construction going on near your apartment all day.

Jason didn’t really care, planning to bury his head under the pillow and trying to sleep through it. You however, seemed very adamant about getting out of the apartment that day. You’d left hours before the construction crew had even gotten there, telling him it was a nice day out.

It was an alright day, but he let you have your way.

You held his hand as you walked down the street, looking into shop windows and commenting on things you think he’d like.

You led him into a book store excitedly, telling him about how the author he’d been binging had just published something new. He didn’t even know that.

You were browsing the sections, flipping through books as you went. You peered across the shop at a kid holding an absolutely massive pile of books, who was clearly struggling to keep them in his arms.

His mother tried to help him but he shook his head and strided away independently, albeit very slowly. The weight of the books though, did get the best of him, and you could tell by the quivering in his arms that he was going to drop them.

“Loud noise.” You said quickly, seemingly out of the blue. Jason turned to you, confused, before seeing the stack the books splat flat onto the ground. It was indeed a loud noise.

He tilts his head at you, though you’re still busy watching the little boy as he throws his head back in frustration.

“What was that?”

You look at him, “He dropped his books.”

“Yeah, I saw. But why—”

His question gets cut off by the kid bursting into tears, wailing. You turn back to look at him, your gaze getting caught by the new book you’d been telling him about. “Ooh!”

You grab his hand and pull him over with you, smiling widely when you have the book in your hands. The sight of you makes him feel so warm so fast that he forgets about the odd interaction all together.

A couple hours later, you sit outside a cafe and eat lunch together, his back to the road, you sitting diagnal to him.

He’s telling you about the shit Damian got in trouble for at school last week, holding your hand with his right hand and eating with his left.

“He thinks he’s not going to get expelled for pulling shit like that every other week, it’s ridiculous.” He says, tossing his napkin down on the table.

Your smile is wavers as your eyes move past his shoulder looking down the block before widening, “Car—”

The sudden noise startles him enough to make him visibly jump, hand flying to where his holster would be. He looks over at the fender bender, shoulders relaxing.

He turns back to you to find your eyes looking far more worried than they should. You seem to be scanning his face, looking for something and he’s about to ask you what’s wrong when it sinks in.

He does get scared by unexpected loud sounds, doesn’t he? He never really thinks of it until it happens, but his mind is trained to expect gunshots or crowbars making impact.

It doesn’t happen often, but it noticeably takes a little piece out of him when it does.

“You…” he tries, but falters. He’s not even sure he’s processing this right.

He’s never seriously tried to fathom that you love him half as much as he loves you, though love doesn’t feel like a strong enough word. He lives and breathes for you, you’ve become a lifeline he’d been stranded without for most of his life. But now you're here and you’re everything, you’re in his head all the time, in every emotion he feels.

He thinks he’s here for you, that he was brought back from the dead because of you. You can’t possibly understand how much his heart is full of you, he doesn’t understand it himself.

He knows you love him, he’s gotten that through his head. But he can’t get a grasp on the idea that he’s equally matched in the who loves who the most battle.

Do you really care that much about him to go out of your way to keep track of things that might startle him? He knows there’s a million things about you that are in the back of his mind at any given time, but surely you don’t operate that same way with him?

Do you?

There’s this burning in his heart that aches and it only gets stronger when he sees you looking at him like that. So genuine. With care, with love.

He squeezes your hand, “I love you. More than anything.”

The look on your face sinks back into that sweet, adorable look that he’s so used to and it makes him want to scream.

You smile that bright smile and it sends his heart rocketing into oblivion. “I love you.” You squeeze his hand back, “More than everything.”

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.

#jason todd loves his gf #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

pathologicalreid · 5 months

Note

hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #margot's requests #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds hurt/comfort

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anemoiashifts · 2 months

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why you should get off social media if you want to shift.

before you scroll away, i want to challenge all of you to read all of this. this is one of my longest blog posts ive ever made with over 1,000 words. if you can or can’t make it through the whole post, please let me know how far you’ve gotten in the comments below. you’ll get a surprise at the end 🥳 !

social media isn’t an inherently bad thing. however, outside & inside of the shifting community social media (specially tiktok) has been shown to effect our attention span. this shows in my comment sections on my longer tumblr posts that i also share on tiktok, such as this one, when people say things like “im not reading all of that” or “can someone summarize” also “what method should i use” and “why am i not shifting”.

let’s start with the basics of shifting. shifting attempts need some kind of focus; an affirmation, a visualization, some sort of task like counting. if you’re someone who struggles to focus, you will struggle to learn how to meditate or any hobby or task you’re tying to accomplish. all shifting methods are is a meditation. while no, you don’t need a method, I would make the argument learning how to meditate & focus your attention to what you are trying to manifest is an important part of shifting. if social media creates an instant dopamine reward without little effort, the appeal of shifting seems less. this is why i think a lot of people actually like thinking about shifting & creating content for it rather then doing it — because trying to shift requires some level of work without instant reward even if it’s as simple as laying down & setting intention.

if you try to shift & you wake up in your cr still, that isn’t as exciting when comparing it to the idea of shifting. rather, if you post an edit or a video about your dr you will receive a dopamine hit through video interaction (comments, likes, how social media platforms are set up in general). even maladaptive daydreaming can fall into this category to some. the interest in attempting to shift dies because we feel like we aren’t gaining anything from it when that’s not true. when laying down & attempting to shift, we are meditating & training the brain to focus on what we desire most: we’re correcting our attention span.

social media destroys the ability to focus & what we focus on & give our attention to allows room for that desire to grow, to become reality. if we’re always so overwhelmed with information & have so much to stress about, it’s important to recognize what we consume & how it effects our mood & mental health & how it can sometimes delay our manifestations. im not saying you have to be positive all the time, but we’re exposed to so much that it’s important to check in with yourself every once in a while. this can be where shifting content comes into play vs non shifting content. think demotivation, you don’t look for it, it just appears. & how many times have you opened tiktok to look something up to only be distracted by a completely unrelated video that automatically started playing ?

what i mean is people are telling you what shifting is, what works for them (which you could register subconsciously & believe that’s a step by step guide), rather then self discovery. people are telling you what shifting is, how to do it, what to think, what to script, what method you need to do, even if they say “this may not apply to everyone” because of how it’s being presented & spoken about. the said popularity of a method or definition may also come into play & feeling like something has to be right or work because other people align with it. its like math class, the teacher shows you one way to solve a problem then says “your allowed to use your own methods” & shows you one example of it then goes back to using the original method in class that you don’t understand.

another reason is opinions. when being shown so many people speaking on shifting & their thoughts it can be overwhelming. it’s a great thing so many people are willing to talk about their experiences in their desired reality or want to share their personal breakthroughs & opinions on what shifting is, it can be confusing. while everything i just listed is well intended, leaning about shifting through places like tiktok & not venturing out & doing your own research — or just searching methods online & trying it yourself while going in blind — it takes away self discovery.

so, how do we learn about shifting ?

when i say get off of social media, i don’t exactly mean all social media. yes, all of these things happen across the internet but the difference with tiktok is that the fyp isn’t so prominent. this of course also applies to other feeds that are generated, but a lot of the shifting community is ok tiktok so im using the most known example. it’s important to search & decide what information you consume & seek out rather then being told something without stopping to think for yourself. you want the chance to be able to create your own thoughts. your own unique thoughts you have about things make them personal & your own beliefs become stronger when you realize things on your own. it’s more satisfying that way.

places like reddit & searching for questions you specifically have so you don’t have ten more questions shoved in your that you didn’t have before that cause you added worry or unnecessary fear is helpful to keep in mind.

there is room for grey area. not everything needs to be black & white. there should be no consciousness vs multiverse theories because two things can both be true at once. Ike thing doesn’t have to be against something, you don’t have time pick a side. it’s all theory & hypothetical. it’s okay that we 100% don’t know (& will probably never know) what shifting truly is. not everything needs to be discovered to preform it “correctly”. you don’t need to be a master at painting to paint, you don’t need to know how paint brushes are crafted or how canvas is stretched to preform, anyone can sit & learn as they create their first & second & tenth piece. even people who have painted & sold their artwork for millions, don’t know the great’s techniques. they know pieces of them & take what works & discards what doesn’t serve them.

this post isnt to negate any of the good social media has done or sound like my mom & preaching about how social media destroys your brain…but i think we should be mindful of what we consume & how it makes us feel & if we’re speaking for ourselves or parroting others words. there are so many great people & advice out there & im not trying to take away from that. i just think taking a moment to stop & digest what we’re seeing is healthy. this blog post has been a long time coming but i know a lot of people wouldn’t want to hear it. i can promise you, you are more addicted then you think — myself included. i just don’t wake you guys to look back in 10 years & have spent more then half of that looking at a screen when there’s so much life to be lived. i don’t want social media to take away from what we are all here for which when we come down to it is living. shifting is literally wanting to experience life & i can’t help but find it ironic that this is the opposite of everything we wish to accomplish through this practice.

please take care of yourselves. much love.

surprise :) congrats you made it ! here’s your digital slice of cake ! 🍰

#desired reality #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting #shiftok #shifting motivation #shifting realities #shifter #reality shifter

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mellowmistt · 2 months

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birthday trip-matt sturniolo

Summary: After two long weeks without seeing each other, Matt can’t wait to be alone with you.

Warnings: smut; fluff; established relationship; p in v sex; bondage kink; oral (m receiving); teasing

A/N: this story is based on @reirei-purple ‘s request! (Sorry I don’t know how to do the link thing yet otherwise I’d link the post). This isn’t fully proofread yet so sorry for any mistakes!

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I jump into Matt's arms as soon as he opens the door.

"Ahhh I missed you!" He says hugging me tight. I hadn't seen him in two weeks as I went on a work trip, but tomorrow was his, Nick and Chris's birthday and we were going on a trip to Vegas to celebrate. Madison had booked a 5 star hotel for us all to stay at, it would be the perfect end to a long and tiresome week.

"Go upstairs i'll get your bag" Matt says pulling away.

I jog up the stairs where Madison runs to hug me.

"Oh my gosh I feel like I haven't seen you in so long!" She says with a smile.

"I knowww, I've missed you, thankyou for booking this trip you are amazing." I say, before hugging Chris and Nick and Nate who were waiting by the couch.

"Okay come on, we've got a long trip and it's already seven" Matt says appearing from the top of the stairs.

It was seven at night, and I kinda liked the whole late night roadtrip, but obviously since it's summer it would still be light until about nine anyway. The drive to Vegas is four hours, so we'd get there pretty late.We all shoved our bags in the back of the car, some had to also go on the back seats as there were six of us travelling, but only five seats now available.

Madison was driving, Chris was in the passenger seat, Nick and Nate had already seated in the middle section which left me and Matt with the back seats.

"I'll just move the seat back a bit and you can sit on my seat with me, there'll be plenty of room" Matt says as he observes the mess of luggage splayed across the seats.

"Ok" I reply.

We only had an hour left until we were in Vegas. Chris was chatting with Madison and listening to music in the front, Nick and Nate had headphone sin whilst they watched a movie together and Me and Matt were awkwardly sitting on the same seat, I was sat inbetween his legs holding the Ipad up so that we could watch a movie together.

Suddenly, the car started shaking, I abruptly removed my headphones and observed the road, which mainly consisted of bumpy rocks.

"Shit, sorry guys bumpy road" Madison says looking through the rearview mirror.

"Oh my god" Matt whispers, holding onto my waist in an attempt to steady ourselves. I then realised that my body was rubbing up gainst him, against his crotch area. I quickly leaned forward, turning to face him.

"Shit, sorry!" I whisper.

"No no, come back" He whispers, grabbing my waist and repositioning me back inbetween his legs.

"I don't mind" He whispers into my ear. "I've waited long enough"

I move my hips back slowly, pushing myself onto him further with a grin. I pull the ipad screen back up to avoid any suspicion. I felt Matt's breaths on my neck getting more choppy, he moves his hand away from my waist and down to my thigh and squeezes it. The bumpy road ends, and I start to move my hips back and forth slowly against Matt. I already felt him start to harden underneath me. I stopped my movements, he was gonna have to wait.

We finally made it to the hotel, it was fancy. There was marble flooring everywhere, it was lit up bright, and there was even a glass elevator next to the main lobby. We checked in and were assigned to a big suite on one of the top floors. Holy shit.

Chris opened the main door to the suite and we were all amazed by what we saw. It looked like something out of Gossip Girl. Our faces lighted up as we walked around our home for the weekend, inspecting all of the treats the hotel had left for us. There were three bedrooms, just the right amount for us; Nick and Madison in one, Chris and Nate in one and Me and Matt in one.

We all decided we would go down to the hot tub for a bit and chill. I rummaged through my bags as I got to mine and Matt’s room, pulling out my baby pink bikini which I luckily packed last minute. I went into the bathroom, leaving the door open enough for Matt to watch me undress. Part of me felt bad for teasing him this much, knowing how long it has been since we were last in bed together, but then again it would make it ten times better for him later with all of this buildup.

“Hot” Matt says sliding through the door, already in his swim shorts, he comes to help me tie the back of my top.

“Can’t we just stay in our room” Matt pleads, wrapping his arms around my stomach and leaning over my shoulder, planting a kiss on my neck.

“We’ll have plenty of time in here later” I reply, turning my head to kiss him, pulling him out of the room.

We were the last ones to the hot tub, awkwardly climbing in mid discussion. I lean my head back as I take in the warm water as Matt places his hand on my thigh. I subtly face him and smile before joining the conversation.

About twenty minutes had passed, Matt’s hands gradually trailing higher up my thighs. Thankfully the bubble jets were on, so no one could see. His fingers traced my bikini line, until they rested over my bikini bottoms. He started to moved his thumb up and down slowly.

“I’m gonna go to bed now, I’m so tired” Madison says, climbing out. Nick follows, Chris and Nate also leave a few minutes later.

As soon as they are out of sight Matt grabs my waist and pulls me onto his lap, immediately attatching his lips to mine.

“The past two weeks have been so boring without you” he says, playing with my bikini top straps.

“I could say the same” I say, brushing my hips closer to him, I knew this would be the final push for him.

Without warning he scoops me up and climbs out, rushing to our room.

I giggle as carries me through the hallway, quickly shutting our bedroom door behind him and dropping me onto the bed.

“Look what I found in those care hampers earlier" He says, walking towards the nightstand and pulling out a cylinder box.

"Intimacy kit?" I say, reading the fancy cursive on the top before twisting off the lid. I pull out the black bag which had condoms, lube, a towel, a blindfold and dice inside.

"What the fuck!" I chuckle, intrigued by the dice. On each of the sides there were names of different positions.

"Wow" I say, showing Matt one of the dice as he climbs onto the bed.

"Oooh cowgirl, my favourite" He says smiling at me.

He takes the box away from me, placing it onto the nightstand before grabbing my waist and pulling me on top of him. I lean down and kiss him,my hand trailing down his chest. I grind my waist against his and feel him harden against me after a few seconds. I reach one hand down and tease him over his shorts grinning between our kisses.

I stop, and smile with an idea forming in my head. Matt looks at me smiling but confused. I reach down and grab the blindfold from the box and slowly wrap it around Matt’s head.

“What are you doing” he says through giggles.

“Shh, just relax” I whisper before moving down his body. I reach the waistband of his shorts and began tugging on them, pulling them down. I gently rub his lower length for a few moments before putting him in my mouth. My tongue glides smoothly around his tip, before I descend further. He is smiling through small muffled whines when I glance up to his head. His hands reach down and start playing with my hair, his breaths again become more demanding. I speed up, maximising the stimulation.

“Oh..fuck” he whispers, his mouth now gaping in reflex.

I could feel him throbbing in my hand which was caressing his lower length still, just moments before I felt his warm liquid burst into my mouth. He let out a moan, and followed with deep breaths. I swallowed and wiped my mouth, smiling before going to kiss him again. I move my mouth to his neck, allowing him to continue to regain his breath. He unties my bikini top and throws it onto the floor, and I lift my hips as he pulls off my bottoms.

I wait a few more moments before lowering myself onto him, using my saliva already on his tip to help. I descend slowly, watching his mouth gape open again at the unexpected second stimulation. He grabs onto my hips as I start to speed up, feeling him brushing against my sweet spot nearing my orgasm, his small moans indicating he was nearing his second.

It wasn’t long after that the euphoric sensation was fulfilled. I grind forward and back slowly as we both come down from our high, our rapid breaths wavering.

I glance down at my phone, the time read 00:04. I remove the blindfold from Matt and he meets me with a smile.

“Happy birthday” I say.

“Best birthday present ever” he says with a grin.

We both cuddle up and drift to sleep.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo

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illnessfaker · 7 months

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tw: black+trans death

from the_yvesdropper on instagram:

our beautiful black trans brother, 35 year old Righteous Torrence "Chevy" Hill, was murdered in Atlanta, GA this weekend.

he went by his nickname 'Chevy' he was originally from Macon, GA. he owned Evollusion, which is a black/ queer owned LGBTQ+ salon in Atlanta that provided and dedicated full service to specializing in hair, nails, barbering and makeup. growing up as young black queer boys/kids, the barbershop experience can sometimes be a tricky space to occupy, this was something that Chevy understood and wanted to cultivate a space of safety where you can also get the affirming look and style you want, and he did exactly that.

Chevy was a beloved son, brother, partner, and father.

one of his last posts that had a photo of himself said :

"if you truly know me, you know i am a humble, modest, private man, that i love my community, i have the love of God in me and will give the shirt off my back to any soul in need, also i never post pictures of myself, legaey give myself credit, that stops today, i am my legacy!"

(a close friend of Chevy asked if i could share more then one photo of Chevy, since he never posted photos of himself and in recent years he got the confidence to want to share more photos and now he won't get the chance to)

Chevy, hey king, hey brother, hey angel, thank you for everything, i lové you, we lové you, i'm so sorry. there are a lot of photographers in heaven who will be able to photograph you as the glorious black trans angel that you are.

there will be a homegoing service/memorial for our brother

there aren't many details about what happened but apparently he was shot by a family member last wednesday, the 28th (at least this article was the one linked in relation to his murder.)

judging by both the IG post and the comments section he was well-loved by many people and those people have many good memories with him and nothing but good things to say. this is a comment that was left by tirajmeansgolden which was hidden by IG for some reason:

I started testosterone in February 2020. I hit this man up at the end of 2019 after numerous Google searches for an LGBT-friendly barber near me (and by near me... he was a good 35-40 minutes from the rural area I was in outside of Atlanta: but when I found out he was a trans man and that his business was the first and only LGBT hair bar, I knew it would be worth the trip). I was a dysphoric mess in his DMs one Sunday. I hated how my hair was growing out. I never had a "masculine" hairstyle before but decided one day I would buzz it all off myself, then allowed it to grow out a bit... I sent him a video and despite him being closed on Sunday, he told me to come through. I got my hair braided and he gave me my first really masculine fade. Explained the different terms. Lined me up. Was asking me about my decision to transition and provided some helpful advice + guidance. I told him how I was a therapist and he was hype and said he talked with a group of trans men and he would love for me to stop by and also give some mental health tips. So whoever said he was humble - wow, what an understatement. Such a community man! Made me feel SO comfortable because barbershops were a source of major trauma and triggers for me. They were such an integral part of my early transition (I just celebrated 4 years later week). And he was such an integral part of the Atlanta Queer community with hosting events like Queer Con. How I found so many other great resources + queer businesses/artists. May you rest in peace, Chevy. You'll be missed. You've made such a different in the lives of countless people. You definitely were living your Purpose + left a legacy behind ...

#op #rest in power #black trans lives matter #death -#black death -#trans death -#didn't add a tw to the top of this post at first. sorry everyone.

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mrskokushibo · 22 days

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Warnings: MDNI, NSFW, Smut, Sex, 18+.

Plot: Your friends take you out for a girls' night to watch an MMA fight, where one of the fighters, Ryomen Sukuna, is a notorious hottie. Will this be the night you finally meet the man who will truly rock the foundations of your world?

Cover artwork by the amazing @innaillus 🙏❤️

Masterlist

The sound in the arena was getting louder as more people were streaming in, filling up the stands. You were looking around curious, taking in all the impressions. It was your very first time attending a fight of any kind, let alone an MMA one. You knew what it was all about as you saw it on TV, but being at the venue in person was an entirely different experience. The booming base of peppy rock music was blending with the chatter of people and an occasional announcement from the conferencier.

Your seats were in the VIP section just next to the ring. Your bestie, Bec, organised this for you all as a treat, a girls’ night out, away from your crappy love lives and mundane jobs. She slept around a lot and seemed to have connections anywhere and everywhere. You often joked, that somehow, she would be the one to land some rich dude eventually. You wished you were this open, but you always seemed to attract assholes, so you almost gave up on dating actively.

You were also the quieter one in your friend group and, just like now, you sat on the edge of the action, taking in all the impression in silence. You enjoyed being around people as long, as they let you be you. And that is why you were so close to your friends. They accepted you exactly the way you were.

Your drinks arrived and you were now sitting and sipping on a beer and snacking on some hot chips. You were facing the ring and were studying it closely. You have seen boxing rings before, but this one was different. It had a cage around it. This made you think a little as to how violent was the fighting if the fighters needed to be caged in like this.

‘Excited?’

You were interrupted by Bec, who was now leaning over the others to be able to make herself heard over the surrounding commotion.

You nodded with your mouth full of chips and beer.

‘You know…’ She leaned in a little closer to you.

‘One of the fighters is supposedly an official hottie. I saw pictures of him and damn, girl. I would fuck him even if I was on my deathbed.’

Well, you could easily imagine Bec doing something like that and you chuckled. A dirty mind in such a kind and smart person. She was the most accomplished of your friend group. A corporate lawyer, spending a lot of time working pro bono helping underprivileged clients. She, on the other hand, always called you a superhero. That is what she thought nurses were. And you did work in a huge, busy, public hospital, trying to make the stay more bearable for your patients. Who, by the way, always got very attached to you, probably due to your kind and caring nature?

‘We will see if I think the same as you. He might not be my type.’

You grinned and winked at Bec, who immediately shook her head while swallowing her drink.

‘Oh, but no, my dear. Trust me on this one. Since you have a pussy, you will get attracted to him. Instant squirt. I’m telling ya.’

She grinned in her typical mischievous manner while you were shaking your head at her over-sexualized tirade.

She was just about to say something more, but the lights went out for a moment and the conferencier began to welcome the audience, announcing the imminent start of the fight.

‘First out. The king of knockouts, the one and only, Ryomen Sukuna.’

As the name was announced the crowd went wild, lights turned blood red and music went from upbeat rock to very loud heavy metal. In the corner of your eye, you could make out the contour of Bec making the ‘thumbs up’ gesture in your direction.

When he entered the ring, you automatically realised what Bec was talking about. This man was … perfect. Everything about him screamed ‘sex’. A strong, perfectly toned body, spiked pink-dyed hair with a natural black undercut. His eyes were those of a large predator, slightly narrow and with a confident and playful look. His face was handsome and masculine and had a friendly look to it. And then there were the tattoos. Black, symmetrical markings on his face and chest and black bands on his wrists, biceps, thighs, and ankles. He reminded you of a powerful and wild tiger. You were in a state of awe and yes, Bec was right, you were getting a little aroused.

He was strutting around the ring, exuding pure confidence, and blowing sweet kisses, waving, and winking to the audience. All smiles and joy, this was someone obviously not to mess with in a ring.

The conferencier announced the entry of the second fighter, but you barely paid attention to him, being so focused on Sukuna. Very soon, the lights in the arena were switched to full power again and the match began with the ring of a bell.

It was like watching a brutal dance, the fighters moving swiftly and with amazing agility. You could only imagine the force behind the blows they were dealing each other as you were watching their powerful muscles flex and bodies break out in a sweat, which made their skin glisten in the strong arena lights.

The game paused for a moment after Sukuna dealt a scary-sounding blow to his opponent. You could almost hear the creaking of bones and tendons as the man’s back hit the cage right in front of you. The man was not knocked out, but his team was tending to his bloodied face, cleaning him up for continued fighting.

And that is when it happened. Sukuna was leaning leisurely in his corner of the ring, rolling his head in a stretch, and looking around at the audience as if he was sitting in a bar doing some people-watching instead of being in the middle of a fight. His eyes were moving around the perimeter and when they reached you, his head stopped and he smiled and winked in your direction. You froze but also felt a few butterflies rise to flight inside your belly, causing the waterworks between your legs to go into a state of high flow. Bec saw what happened and was now doing a double ‘thumbs up’ in your direction.

Soon, the ring rang again and the fight continued. But not for long, as Sukuna’s now completely exhausted opponent was slammed into the cage once again, but this time, he remained laying down on the floor of the ring. The audience was in absolute uproar, chanting ‘Ry-o-men, Ry-o-men’ and ‘Hail Thy King’ almost in unison. The referee began the count over the fallen fighter, but he did not get up. A clean knockout. The ref walked up to Sukuna, grabbed his hand, and raising it in a sign of victory, screaming out into the microphone: ‘Ryomen Sukuna wins by knockout.’ The crowd went even louder and the noise was now almost deafening. But as the fighters left the ring, the crowd settled down and it was all finished just as quickly as it began.

You felt a little tricked by the speed of it all. It would have been great to watch the sexy Ryomen for a while longer. But, oh well, all good things come to an end.

The crowd began its exodus out of the arena and soon enough, the city air hit you in the face with its’ smog and smells. Your group headed off to the nearby nightclub, Bec holding you under your arm, discussing the match and the very sexy Mr Sukuna.

The line to the club moved quickly and a few minutes later you and your friends were occupying a booth in the immediate vicinity of the dance floor. The music was already too loud to have a decent conversation, but you all were so used to losing your voices after a night out that the conversation flowed easily despite the high decibels emitted from the speakers.

The evening went on as usual, with drinks, and complaining about existing, ex-, and potential boyfriends. You danced, drank some more and very soon Bec was being dragged away to the dance floor by some hunk she chatted up at the bar.

It was your turn to get more drinks and honestly, you were promising yourself that this was the last round and then it was straight home for you. But as you were standing in front of the bar, waiting your turn, something caught your attention and changed the course of your evening.

"Well, well, well. Whom do we have here?" The sexy, husky, and playful masculine voice, whose owner you couldn't yet see, momentarily drowned out all other noises, including the deep pumping base of the club.

When you turned around to see who the voice belonged to, you must have really looked startled as the tall guy right in front of you now, smiled and ran his hand through his hair with an apologetic look on his face.

‘Sorry, I did not mean to scare you… Are you alright?’ He touched your shoulder lightly and leaned down to you. ‘I will leave you be if I annoy you.’

Quickly, you regained your composure. The owner of the voice was no one else but the sexy fighter from a couple of hours ago, Ryomen Sukuna. You felt like slapping your own cheek partly to check that you are not dreaming and partly for your stupid and awkward reaction.

‘Yes, yes, of course, I am all right. And…you are anything but annoying.’ You smiled and stretched out your hand to him to make up for the previous lack of social skills.

‘I am (y/n), and you are Ryomen, right?’

‘Yes, that is right. You have a good memory.’ * So…he did notice you at the match…How interesting…*

‘I was just about to grab a drink. Anything you would like?’ You asked him unassumingly. He smiled and shook his head.

‘Shit, I’m the one who should be buying YOU a drink. But ok, go ahead. Whiskey on the rocks for me.’

He followed you to the bar and you both sat down as they were vacant seats right in front of you and might just as well not stand while waiting.

‘With the risk of sounding like a creep. Are you here alone?’

He looked almost a bit embarrassed at having posed such a question, but you quickly eased his mood by telling him all about your girls’ night out. When you pointed and waved to your friends, Bec was not there, but when you scanned the place, you could see her making out with some tall, dark-haired dude at the far end of the dancefloor. Right. God old Bec…

The drinks were put in front of you and you chose to stay where you were. He leaned on his elbow, swirling his drink, his narrowed eyes studying you in silence for a moment. His lips twitched in a small, fluttering smile. His eyes were moving across your figure and you began to feel heat spread in your underbelly.

‘So…is this like the place to relax after your fights?’ You chose to break the silence. ‘And by the way…are you here alone? Asking with the risk of sounding like a creep.’ You chuckled a little.

‘As a matter of fact, I am. Here alone. Well, now at least. My team usually goes out here to celebrate, but everyone needed to get home early. I was also about to leave, but then I spotted you.’

He took a sip and kept on swirling his drink while making small talk about the venue and his training routines. You told him about your work and hobbies. But when you both finished your drinks, he suddenly stood up and stretched out his hand.

‘Come, let’s dance, hm?’

You followed him sheepishly, the music slow enough for a very close-up dance, so obviously in no time at all, you were gently swayed in his embrace. He was wearing tight, black jeans and an equally tight white t-shirt, the expensive type. No jewelry, no watch, the only thing adorning him being the stylish tats and of course his meticulously styled hair. He was very tall, much taller than you and you could rest your head on his chest with ease. You could feel the muscles, he was so warm too, like a furnace. He smelled of bergamot, sandalwood, and myrrh. With your eyes closed you found yourself hugging him tighter and your hips instinctively grinding against his.

You continued like this into the next song, and then to the next, slowly losing track of time, his hands wandering down to your waist and his nose nudging your forehead, to get your mouth’s attention, which very soon led to your lips connecting into a slow kiss. The surge of lust rushing through you pushed you even deeper into his embrace, you wanted to drown in him. And you also wanted him to ask you to go to his place, or your place, or just drag you to a back alley and fuck you senseless. But instead, he pulled away from the kiss and looked you deep in the eyes.

‘It is getting late… You know, as much as I would like to offer you more tonight, I am a bit old-fashioned, so this is as far as we go. But…why don’t you join me for dinner tomorrow?’

You could not say you weren’t disappointed, but whether intentional or not, his move made him essentially irresistible in an instant. Before he walked you over to your friend group, you exchanged numbers and he promised to be in touch in the morning.

Your friends kept quiet when you were saying your goodbyes, but as soon as he left, they all high-fived you. Their booze-fuelled questioning and cheering of your dating success kept on going all the way until the taxi stopped outside of your apartment building and you were finally free to take in what happened earlier tonight. You could barely sleep that night, luckily for you the next day was your day off, so you weren’t all too worried about the perspective of looking like a zombie for your date. If there was to be a date, that is. But as far as sleep went, you would catch up with a nap or two during the day anyway.

You dozed off at around 4 am only to be woken up again by the message ping of your phone at exactly 10 am. With shaking hands, you picked up the heavy rectangular device, and to your surprise and excitement it was from him. There was no hesitation with opening the message, your fingers quickly pressing on the bold unread text. And there it was:

‘Dinner at 6 pm? Just to give you heads up, we are going to (name of one of the best restaurants in town) I will pick you up. Can you give me your address, please?. xoxo / Ryomen’

*Shit, shit, shit.* You had nothing that elegant to wear. The urge to go shopping suddenly became overwhelming and you decided to skip breakfast and instead grab a takeaway coffee on the way, and eat something in town instead, after you shopped. You texted him your address and ventured out.

You hated shopping in panic and of course, just because you were looking, you didn’t find anything to buy. *Nice. So now what?*

You got home disappointed and began rummaging through your closet. Eventually, you settled for your favourite little black dress, heels, and a classic simple Swarovsky-crystal choker. A classic look, even though to you, it was how you saw yourself on nearly every date for the last year. It was too late to do anything about it now. You decided to take a nap and when you woke up, after a quick snack and another coffee, you got ready in your usual not-too-overdone manner. *Alright, this will have to do.*

Before you managed to put your shoes on, your phone pinged again.

‘I’m outside.’

You looked out your window and you could not help but stare at the gorgeous sportscar parked just outside of your gate. Almost running through the hall, you put your heels on and rushed down to meet him. At a closer look, the car was a brilliant black Acura NSX. A rather rare car, but what else would you expect of someone like Sukuna.

As you walked up to the vehicle, the door opened and there he was, nimbly jumping out of the car, walking up to you and embracing you into a kiss.

‘You look amazing.’ He whispered in your ear.

But in your eyes, it was him that looked…amazing. He was wearing a black suit styled casually with an expensive black t-shirt and stylish all-black-leather Vans slip-ons. His hair was immaculately spiked and today he was wearing a whole bunch of piercings in his ears.

When you were done with your greetings, he opened the passenger door for you and as you got seated, he closed the door behind you and then jumped into his seat. He smiled at you before starting the engine. The roar was guttural and the vibrations were hitting your core just as much as the presence of the very charming man next to you. You did not notice your surroundings as all the way to the restaurant you were too focused on his presence and your conversation.

At last, the car slowed down and you arrived at the restaurant located in the middle of the business district. He parked the car just outside of the entrance and gave the keys to the concierge. As he led you in, you were almost taken aback by the interior of the luxurious eatery. It was a Japanese/Western fusion restaurant, with none less than two Michelin stars on its resume. The walls were graphite grey, illuminated by dim lanterns cleverly placed, creating a pattern of shadows cast by the intricate pottery standing on tall, oriental side tables. The kitchen was completely open and located in the middle of the dining room, covered by the branches of a large, heavily pruned Sakura tree.

The tables were placed around the kitchen, allowing the guests a full view of the spectacle the chefs were putting on.

A waiter in traditional Japanese attire led you both to your table and very soon you were enjoying a meal like no other you have ever experienced. Dish after dish, one more exotic than the other was brought out to you, accompanied by vintage wines and sake.

The whole time, the two of you were talking almost non-stop, you were amazed at how well-versed and educated he was. Not what you expected out of someone who essentially beats people up for a living. Beneath the friendly and civilised conversation, the sexual tension was steadily building up for nearly every bite you took.

When the main meal was finished and you wiped your mouth with the thick, linen napkin and cleaned off your hands with a warm, wet towel provided by the waiter, he took your hand and held it gently, massaging the inside of your palm with his thumb. His eyes were narrowed and a delicate smile lit up his sharp features. A heavy blush was spreading underneath your make-up. Your mouth was getting dry and you felt warmth spread inside you.

‘Do you have room for dessert? They make this amazing matcha mochi here… You should try it.’

He was speaking slowly, and it was almost as if he was beginning the seduction ritual, because his movements followed the slower speech and the pink of his eyes was growing darker by the minute, with what you only could read as pure, unadulterated lust.

You bit your bottom lip and shuffled in your seat. You were getting wet. But going home was not an option yet. It is now that the game was just beginning. The foreplay before foreplay. Teasing and small touches drove you to the brink of what your body could endure without literally throwing yourself at him.

‘Yes, I would like to try it. And maybe some coffee to go with it?’

You cocked your head and smiled knowing very well you needed a lot of coffee for what was coming.

The sweets and coffee arrived soon after you placed the order.

You speared some of the mochi with your fork and deliberately slowly put it in your mouth, sliding the fork out with a painfully delayed motion, that made your lips pout out. You licked them discretely in a seductive manner and gave him a small smile while looking him deep in the eye.

He bit his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed again.

‘I see that you are enjoying your dessert.’

He took a sip of his coffee and smiled at you.

‘It is good to stock up on extra energy sometimes.’

You both smiled at each other and kept eating in silence while exchanging hungry looks.

As soon as you finished dessert, he called in the waiter, paid and you both left almost in a hurry. The air outside was cold already and you huddled with him while waiting for the concierge to bring out the car.

You couldn’t get into it fast enough, and once you were buckled up, the engine roared again, pushing your arousal into an even higher gear.

He placed his hand on your thigh and began rubbing the soft flesh just above where your stocking ended and garter straps took over. He did not move the hand an inch, just stayed like this, teasing you and glancing your way with that charming smile that by now had you go instantly wet.

A moment later and the car was driving into an underground garage. He finally let go of your thigh, jumped out of the car, and walked over to your side to open the door for you. As you were getting out, he caught you in his embrace, closed the car door, and began kissing you. He pushed you against the car and had his hand stroke your cheeks and neck, for now still clothed breasts and hips.

You had your hands on his neck, running them through the coarse black hair of the undercut, making him moan quietly.

‘I guess I am not very old-fashioned tonight.’

He spoke in between kisses, his husky voice going straight into your core.

‘Let’s go upstairs, hm? Or would you like me to be old-fashioned and take you home?’

He was teasing you, knowing that going home was the last thing on your mind at this point.

You only shook your head in reply and smiled biting your lower lip. Without a word, he took you by the hand and you began walking toward the elevator, that was already on the garage level. He pressed the highest number on the panel and soon you were pressed against something again, this time the elevator wall while being kissed by your excruciatingly hot lover-to-be.

Out of the elevator, into the apartment, the two of you simply kept kissing, both his and your hands exploring the other in an increasingly adventurous manner. He was starting to breathe a bit heavier and his tongue was swirling frenetically in your mouth, having a little wrestle with yours.

You didn’t have much of a chance to have a look at his place, you were too preoccupied with him to notice your surroundings. He was gently pushing you toward a large black sofa in the middle of the open-plan space. As he reached it, he removed his suit jacket tossing it to the side, then spun you around slowly, sitting down and taking you with him onto his lap. You were now straddling him and pressing your chest to his.

‘Mmm, I didn’t think we would end up like this so quickly.’

‘Are you telling me you have a hard time getting girls to come home with you?’ Your voice hitching through the heavy breathing and kissing.

‘Maybe… maybe not. But you didn’t seem like the easy type.’

‘Because I am not, but you made it easy for me to not be as restrained as I normally am.’ You nibbled at his lip.

‘Is that so? I am flattered…’

He kissed your neck and began to move his hands onto your ass, squeezing the softness with his solid wrestler's hands, sliding them up to your waist, and then repeating the lewd massage while continuing the kiss. You were literally ready to have him take you on the sofa, but he obviously enjoyed the foreplay quite a bit. You could feel his hardness and he must have been surely very aware of how wet you were with only a thin layer of black lace separating your seeping pussy from him. Grinding yourself on him in encouragement was your next instinctive move toward what you really wanted to happen, but he just kept roaming his hands all over you as if he could not get enough of the anticipation.

You shifted your focus to his face to distract yourself, tracing the outlines of his tattoos, forehead, down to his cheeks and then chin, and then all the way up the other side of his face. His eyes were closed in pleasure and he reminded you of a wild cat all over again, just as he did the day before in the ring.

‘This feels nice. You have such a soft touch. Don’t stop…please.’

So, you kept tracing and now also kissing the black lines on his face, making him purr and moan. But you wanted more, to see the marks on his torso, arms, and thighs…maybe there were more in other, intimate places? The thrill of being so close to someone that only yesterday was a distant figure in the spotlight of fame was consuming you and fuelling your arousal.

You pulled off his t-shirt, exposing the long-awaited sight to your starved eyes. The marks started at the base of his neck, spanning from down his back and onto his chest, and down again toward his abs. These tattoos were wider and less intricate than the ones on his face, making him look quite tough, if you were to be asked. You kissed his toned chest and run your fingers across his biceps and down his long, strong arms. Your hands were moving as if with a mind of their own, trying to touch all of his upper body all at once. The need to have him much closer to you than this was growing stronger with every touch.

When you were about to lose your patience, he put his hands at the hem of your dress and began pulling it up. You lifted yourself up on your knees to help him get it off and once the dress was off, his hands latched on to your breasts, massaging until you were nearly out of breath from pleasure and moaning. You kept grinding against him harder.

‘So eager…’ He kissed your breasts while removing your bra and once freed, your breasts were now supported by his cupped hands with the right nipple rolled between his lips. You moaned loudly and made him intensify the action to see how much more noise he could get out of you.

When you began tugging at his belt, he stopped.

‘I think we will be more comfortable in the bedroom.’

You got off him quickly and he followed suit, taking your hand and leading you out of the lounge area and into a smaller room next to the kitchen part of the open-plan living space. The bedroom was dimly lit by warm wall lights and all you could make out was a double bed in the middle of the room and a large TV hanging on the wall opposite the bed. There were, what looked like a couple of Bonzai trees here and there, but that was about all you had time to spot before your attention was stolen once again by Ryomen.

He was now kissing you and unbuckling his belt, you looked down while he was unzipping his pants and sliding them off, uncovering a pair of tight, black boxershorts, stretched snug on top of the hardness of his erection. You swallowed and looked up at his face again and putting both thumbs under the hem of his underwear, you were taking them off quickly.

His cock popped out and it was perfect. Not too big and not too small, the kind of girth and length, that your experience already told you would make you a very satisfied woman.

‘You like what you see?’ Your hungry look was so apparent to him now.

‘Mmm, in fact, I do…’ You dragged your fingers gently on the top of his shaft, kicked off your heels, and climbed onto the bed, supported on your elbows, slowly spreading your legs for him. All you were wearing now were your stockings, garter belt, and a minuscule lace g-string.

He jumped onto the bed with the agility of a leopard and crawled the rest of the short distance dividing you both.

‘Glad to have the King of Knockouts all to yourself?’ He chuckled and smiled in a cocky manner.

‘Yes, very glad.’ You placed your arms around his neck as he was now on top of you, making nearly full body contact.

‘You know, I didn’t expect such a good girl to get this naughty this quickly.’

‘Oh, but even angels need to fall sometimes.’ Your voice was muffled by the kisses he was landing on you while his hands were busy exploring your body.

He pulled away and looked down at the remainder of your garment.

‘You don’t need these, do you now?’ He followed his rhetorical question by rolling the whole lot of you and tossing it aside.

‘Where were we…’ He was now back on top of you, grinding into your folds with his delicious dick.

‘Ah, I think you seem to want me inside you, right? You are very wet…’ His hand was rubbing you roughly between your legs.

‘Yes...please.’

He chuckled and moved his hand from your pussy to his dick, positioning himself at your entrance. He moved his arm back to your side and once in the position to move, he entered your aching and clenching core without any more hesitation.

You were now in full moaning mode, not caring anymore about trying to sound half switched on, the words coming out of your mouth were blabber as you could feel his dick pry its way into you. Your bodies were slowly connecting and synchronising to the rhythm of sex. The feel of his naked body on yours, the softness of close skin-on-skin contact, so sensual, so intimate, so…lascivious. For every thrust of his hips, you were carried away further and further from reality, and yet this was one of the most real, primeval activities a human could engage in. The duality of sex always puzzled you, made for procreation, but executed to fulfill lustful desires.

His love-making was slow in its action, but intense in feel. The heat of his breath when he kissed you was as if he was branding you as his, the gentle, but firm touch of his knotty fingers was sending nerve impulses that traveled not only to your deepest and most aroused core but were slowly but surely opening the doors to your soul.

Every inch of your skin, every muscle and nerve was seeking him, trying to get closer than the physicality of flesh would allow, his strained breath was now your breath. You practiced your ritual in silence, only accompanied by the wet squelching of your sexes joined in their communion and the slapping of flesh. Lewd and holy at the same time. You were near the limit of what you could take before releasing all the pent-up tension your core gathered up over the past two days. As your climax washed over you, the scream that came out of your mouth was almost that of someone else, a primal woman, unleashed and free, reveling in the glory of the pleasure one human could gift to another.

You were still shaking from your orgasm, almost half-conscious from the discharge of impulses. The squelching was louder, as your climax opened your floodgates, drenching you both. Wet and sloppy, he kept on thrusting, but much harder and faster now, chasing his own high, his toned, magnificent body beginning to flex its muscles.

‘Can I come inside you?’

‘Yes, of course, I took precaution…’

And a few moments later, his abdomen was contracting pushing his hips further into you in a few deep thrusts, granting him a full release, painting your insides with his warm seed.

Breathing heavily, he rolled over onto his back, taking you with him in a tight hug. Your sexes stayed connected, your thinner cum blended with his thick, creamy semen, running out onto both your thighs and the sheets beneath you. He was rubbing your back gently, kissing the top of your head as you were this much shorter than him. Your head was snuggled comfortably into his wide, strong chest, you could feel the flexing of his muscles as his arms moved across your back and his heartbeat was lulling you almost into a slumber.

‘Please stay the night. I did not get enough of you yet.’

You lifted your head up to look at him with your now slightly hazy eyes.

‘So, you are not kicking me out? I thought you had a lineup of girls waiting for you?’

He smiled and shook his head.

‘Such prejudice… Being famous doesn’t make me a pig, you know. Besides, most chicks are only after my stage persona, not me.’

He kissed your head again, his eyes closed now and a peaceful smile gracing his face.

‘You know…I must thank your friends for taking you out to see my fight. Without them dragging you along, I would have never met you.’

Most likely, he did not realize, how much his words meant to you right now. Was he the one you were waiting for so long? You were willing to take that chance and run with it.

You pulled yourself up to his face and began kissing him again, your tongue hungrily making its way straight through his thin lips into the warmth of his mouth. His dick slid out of you, letting the rest of the aftermath of your fucking run out freely onto his legs.

‘Let’s take a shower. We made a bit of a mess.’

He led you into the spacious bathroom. It was probably the most lavish bathroom you have ever seen, with walls, and floor tiled with black slate, elegant Japanese-style bath standing at the far end, together with all the traditional equipment needed for a bath ritual. The shower was to the right of the tub, large enough for two people to easily move around inside the glass and stone walls.

Well in the shower, you closed your eyes and tilted your head upwards letting the warm waterfall wash your makeup off you, you rubbed it all off quickly before he could see your smudged face and then let the water rinse the residue of the sex off your lower body. He came into the shower and stood pressed to your back, letting his hands wander all over your chest and belly. Your arousal was already at its peak again and you moved your left hand back to grab his now completely hard cock, while his right hand was playing with your nipple and the left began rubbing your clit.

He pressed you toward the nearest wall, water flowing down on you in unison with the lewd massage he was giving you. You let go of his cock to support yourself with both arms on the wall. He spread your soft ass cheeks to reach your pussy again and bent his knees to compensate for the difference in height, shoving himself into you once more. This time the sex was faster and sloppier. You were barely holding on to the wall while his thrusts were getting stronger, his hands holding your belly and breasts for stability and closeness.

He moved one hand to draw circles around your completely swollen clit. You were drowning in your lust once again. The heat between your legs increased as your nerves were sending more and more pleasure impulses to your brain. You no longer knew if it was water or your slick that was running down your legs, you were this aroused. His sexy lips were kissing and nibbling at your neck and all that was left for you to do was to moan, and moan, and moan.

As his fingers moved faster, rubbing directly on your little pleasure trigger, you gave out one loud moan and then came, shaking in overstimulation as he kept rubbing your nub for a while after your climax passed. He moved his hands onto your hips, stabilising you properly, and increased his pace into a relentless race toward an orgasm. The wet thwacking of his hips into the softness of your ass kept you just barely awake. Luckily, his arousal was just as strong as yours and he came with a quiet growl, almost pushing you flat into the wall.

Panting and almost slouching the two of you got out of the shower drying each other in a drawn-out ritual. You were enjoying touching every part of his body through the cotton of the fresh warm towel, just as much as reveling in the sensation of his hands doing the same to you. Once dry he lifted you off the ground and carried bridal style to the bed, covering you up with a soft, thick but light duvet of pure goose down. He ran over to the kitchen and came back with water for you both and some snacks. While you were both enjoying the well-earned refreshments, you started to feel like sleep was now not far away. Once you were done, he put the tray on the side table and crawled in under the duvet, snuggling up closely to you.

‘I am so glad you chose to stay here with me. In the morning, I will be able to impress you with the best goddamn breakfast you ever had.’

You smiled and nodded in response while kissing him softly, and a moment later, you were both falling asleep, drifting off to, what hopefully, was a future together.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

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