#carpet protection film

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[wfprotectivefilms]

Carpet protective film

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[lillymmb]

"She deserves respect."

bf!drew starkey x gf!reader

warnings: none

summary: you go to your boyfriend for his press tour and the paparazzi are rude to you and he gets protective.

The excitement in the air was palpable as the red carpet event for Drew Starkey’s latest film began. The cameras flashed, the crowd roared with anticipation, and reporters shouted questions from all sides, trying to catch a glimpse of the rising star. Drew had been a force to be reckoned with for some time, but this press tour, promoting his new queer film, was something different. It wasn’t just the movie that was generating buzz—it was the man himself, and, of course, you by his side.

You had been together for a while now, Drew’s girlfriend, but this was your first public event as a couple. He had always been protective of your relationship, preferring to keep it low-key, but with the way the world was shifting, he was growing more comfortable with the attention. He’d even told you, just before stepping onto the carpet, that he couldn’t wait to walk beside you.

But nothing could have prepared you for how chaotic the red carpet was. The sea of reporters and photographers swarmed around you both, shoving microphones in Drew’s face while cameras clicked incessantly. You were trying to stay calm, but your anxiety spiked as the crowd pressed in on you.

“Drew! Drew! Over here!” the reporters shouted, their voices growing louder.

He was doing his best to keep his cool, smiling and answering questions. But the second your hand slipped from his, you realized how quickly the crowd could pull you apart. The reporters saw an opening and immediately seized it, surrounding you with their questions and cameras.

“Are you nervous about Drew’s rise to fame?” one reporter asked, shoving the microphone closer to you.

“What’s it like being in a relationship with someone so famous?” another journalist inquired, her camera flashing at rapid speed.

You tried to smile and remain composed, but the overwhelming attention was starting to get to you. Drew had always been your safe haven in the madness of the public eye, but now, you were alone, caught in the whirlwind. You looked around, hoping to spot him through the crowd, but the sea of people was like an impenetrable wall.

Suddenly, a familiar face appeared in the distance. Drew was shoving his way through the crowd, his eyes scanning frantically for you. He finally caught sight of you, and his expression softened with relief. But just as he started to make his way toward you, a paparazzi photographer rushed forward, blocking his path.

“Excuse me, Drew!” the photographer shouted. “Can we get a picture of you with your girlfriend? How does she feel about you being the face of this movie?”

Drew’s face darkened, the protective side of him instantly coming to the forefront. He grabbed your arm gently, but firmly, pulling you behind him as he stood his ground.

“She doesn’t want to answer any questions right now,” Drew said, his voice calm but tinged with an edge. “She’s not here for this.”

The paparazzi didn’t back off, however. He stepped forward again, this time aiming his camera directly at you, the flash blinding. You flinched, your anxiety bubbling over as you instinctively stepped back.

“Please, just respect her privacy,” Drew said, his tone growing sharper. He could feel the protective instinct within him flaring, knowing you hated being shoved into the spotlight like this. “She’s not a prop for your photos.”

The photographer smirked, not backing down. “She’s with you, right? It’s all part of the deal, Drew. We’re just doing our job.”

“Your job?” Drew’s voice raised slightly, his patience thinning. He took a step forward, blocking the camera with his body, his hand instinctively reaching out for you, pulling you closer to him.

“Drew, let’s just go,” you murmured, your hand instinctively reaching for his, your heart racing from the tension.

But Drew was not backing down. “No, not like this. You deserve better than to be hounded like this. She deserves respect.”

The paparazzo snapped back, now growing frustrated. “You’re being difficult, Drew. You’re a public figure. People want to know about your relationship. It’s part of the game.”

“That’s not how it works,” Drew shot back, his voice now filled with a deep resolve. “I don’t have to play by your rules. She’s my girlfriend, and she’s not obligated to answer to you or anyone else.”

The photographer’s posture changed, sensing the tension between them and the unwavering stance Drew had taken. For a moment, it felt like the world had quieted around you—like you were the only two people standing there.

Finally, the paparazzi muttered something under his breath, lowering his camera and stepping back. Drew didn’t let go of your hand until he was certain the situation had calmed down. He gave one last glance toward the crowd, his jaw clenched in frustration, before leading you away from the chaos.

You could feel your heart racing in the wake of it all. The press had always been overwhelming, but today, it felt different. It was like they saw you as nothing more than an accessory to Drew, and it made your skin crawl.

“I’m so sorry,” Drew said, his voice soft as he walked with you away from the press. “I should’ve kept you closer.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “It’s not your fault. You can’t control what they do. I just... I hate feeling like we’re part of some show for them.”

“I know,” Drew said quietly. “I hate it too. I’m not letting them do that to you again, though.”

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart swell. Drew might be the one in the spotlight, but when it came to protecting you, he was as fierce as they came.

As you both made your way to a more private area, the chaos of the red carpet finally faded away. Drew stopped walking, turning to face you, his eyes softening as he cupped your face gently in his hands.

“I love you,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “No matter what the world thinks, you’re my priority. You always will be.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment making you feel both overwhelmed and cherished. You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I love you too. And I’m proud of you. But can we just… take a minute? Just the two of us?”

Drew smiled, nodding. “Anything for you.”

And as he pulled you into a quiet corner, away from the flashing cameras and prying eyes, you knew that no matter how chaotic the world became, you and Drew would always find your way back to each other—safe, away from the noise, in the calm of each other’s arms.

a/n: i saw the video of tom protecting zendaya and remembered about drew bcs i think he would do the same🙏

© LILLYMMB do not repost and do not copy!

[priintaniere]

"Sylvain Gautier and Dorothea Arnault stun on the red carpet for the #FromFaerghusWithLove screening at 75th Enbarr film festival"

or simply, an actor/bodyguard AU

more notes on this AU under the read more

※ please do not repost my art ※   ➜ commission and ko-fi links in bio

this AU really started as just me toying with the idea of actor sylvain with his protective bodyguard felix then wanting to put dorothea and sylvain in fancy clothes but the more i thought about it, the more ideas i had dshhjs

SO expending this with more characters cuz it's fun!

sylvain: actor, model, former child actor dorothea: actress, model, singer, former opera singer lorenz: stage actor claude: writes stage plays for lorenz in his free time ferdinand: stage actor, making his debut in cinema annette: pop singer hilda: pop singer, model yuri: model, singer, former boys band member bernadetta: successful romance writer, debuting as a script writer encouraged and helped by sylvain

dorothea and sylvain have played romantic partners in many movies together and have very good chemistry on camera and during interviews, leading to lot of speculations of them dating

sylvain has the reputation of dating all his co-stars

felix started to wear a mask bc he saw that he was nicknamed "sylvain gautier's hot bodyguard" online and he hated it but now people only finds him hotter and more mysterious with the mask

OF COURSE there are rumors that sylvain and dorothea are dating or at least, have smth romantic (or sexual…??? 👀) going on with their bodyguards (literally the whole point of the au)

ferdinand, sylvain, lorenz and claude attended the same school (think, fodlan's equivalent of juilliard) and used to do stage plays together

ferdinand recently made his debut on screen while lorenz stayed in theater only because he prefers it here, claude's job is totally unrelated to acting or theater but he still writes and arranges stage plays for lorenz in his free time (mostly shakespearean plays)

sylvain has always liked theater and his parents encouraged and supported him when he was noticed by an agent at a very young age to be cast into a movie. he enjoyed it a lot at first but slowly lose his passion but stayed to please his parents (and there may have been parental pressure)

when he turned 19 and his contract was broken, he decided to quit acting to focus on his studies. he later returned 5 years after on his own terms

dorothea had a brief career as an opera singer but found out that she enjoyed doing musicals more

she debuted on screen with a musical and has slowly been branching out, first in romcoms or as the male lead's love interest in action movies but she has since taken more atypical roles for indie movies

felix, ingrid, sylvain are childhood friends, with ingrid initially being sylvain's bodyguard

ingrid became sylvain's bodyguard because she was worried about him and that way, she could always keep an eye on him

when dorothea rose to fame and was thinking of hiring a female bodyguard, sylvain recommended ingrid to her

ingrid then asked felix to replace her as sylvain's bodyguard

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Red Carpet || Tom Blyth x gf!reader

Summary: Tom takes you to your very first movie premiere and it happens to be the movie that he is the protagonist in. A sweet moment happens between the two of you which leaves fans further fangirling over your relationship.

A/n: I have been constantly asked If I will ever do a Tom Blyth x reader imagine and the answer is yes :). Btw I absolutely love @yzzart’s Tom Blyth x actress!reader imagines and you should totally go check them out!

Warnings: none :)

Wc:

Divider by @pommecita

You were beyond nervous and excited to attend the red carpet Premiere for The Hunger Games The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. Especially since you would be attending as your boyfriend’s plus one who happens to play Coriolanus Snow in said movie.

The two of you kept your relationship as private as you could, but at some point along the way of him filming, everyone knew the two of you were together. Your public affection towards each other during the behind the scenes did not go unnoticed by fans who recorded it and took pictures.

It was bound to happen someday. "You look absolutely gorgeous, darling," Tom hugs you from behind, your exposed back flush against his outfit, as he admires your reflection in the mirror. You hold his arms that were protectively on your waist.

"Thank you, Tom. You look as handsome as ever," You giggle, turning around to place your hands on either side of his face, admiring every little detail on his face that you have already noticed about a thousand times, before placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

You two were on your way to the event, his hand never left your thigh as you lean your head against his shoulder. Your phone suddenly buzzed as you look at the caller id. It was Rachel. You immediately answered it as it went through to face time.

"Where are you guys!" She yells in the speaker, loud chatter in the background. She was already at the event. "We are literally around the corner," You say taking a look around your surroundings as Tom chuckles. "Let me see your outfits!" Rachel stares at you with a wide grin.

You laugh at her energy as you pass Tom the phone as he holds it up so that the both of you were on screen. Rachel gasps as she covers her mouth, "You guys look fucking amazing!" She squeals as you chuckle.

"Wait until you see the back of Y/n's dress," Tom lets out a whistle as you nudge him with a smile. "I can't wait to see! Oh wait, I think I see your car pulling up right now. See you soon!" She quickly says before hanging up.

Tom squeezes your thigh, his way of asking if you were alright without any words. You nod with a small smile. You arrived at the premiere and the flashlights coming from the cameras shone through the windows.

Tom steps out first before lending you his hand, aiding you as you get out of the car. He gives you an encouraging smile as you smile back at him. Everyone started screaming when they saw the two of you, causing you to smile even more.

His hand rested on the small of your back as the two of you were whisked into interviews. "Tom! It's so great to see you, we'd like to ask you a few questions if that is alright?" The woman smiles as she passes Tom a microphone.

"Of course!" Tom offers the man a smile. "What was your favourite things about filming this movie?" You stayed quiet as you look at Tom, giving him a smile. "Well, I was super grateful to be able to work with such incredible actors and actresses, Peter and Viola just to name a few, I really enjoyed the atmosphere on set, we were all like family," Your boyfriend answers.

You saw a lot of cameras pointed your directions so you wave and smile, "Would you like to explain to us and your fans who this beautiful girl is beside you Tom?" You snap your attention back to Tom and the woman. Tom smiles as you as you look at the woman. "I think you and everyone already have a pretty clear idea on who she is," Tom laughs as does the woman.

"This beautiful girl is my girlfriend. She's stuck with me during the whole filming of the movie and I'm so grateful that she's mine," He answers, his eyes not leaving yours as he pulls you closer to him. "He's just too sweet isn't he?" You chuckle at the camera making them laugh.

Tom presses a kiss on your cheek as you could feel your face heating up slightly. "You two are just too adorable! Thank you for your time, the woman smiles as Tom hands her back the microphone. "My pleasure," Tom gives her a final smile before the two of you are once again whisked into other interviews, where you would sometimes be included.

Then it was time to take pictures. Tom's hand never left yours as you both stood where they were taking the photos. Tom protectively places his hand on your waist as you both pose for the cameras. You were almost blinded by all the flashing and deaf from the shouting.

The string on the back of your dress suddenly became loose as you curse under your breath. Tom looks down at you before moving to stand in front of you in a protective manner to cover you from the cameras. "You okay?" He asks concerned. I look at him with a smile from his sweet gesture.

"The back of my dress came undone," He looks over your shoulder. He then pulls you into a hug as you were slightly taken back. You then feels his hands working on tying your dress back. You let out a chuckle as you rub his back.

The cameras directly in front of you were confused but the cameras by the side all awed at his actions. "There you go, darling," He kisses your cheek as he pulls back. You give him a grateful smile, "Thank you."

"Y/n! Tom!" You hear a feminine voice call out as Rachel and Josh make their way towards the two of you. "Hi!" You smiled, pulling Josh into a hug and then Rachel. "Oh you look stunning," Rachel holds your forearms as you couln't keep the smile of your face.

"Have you looked in a mirror? You look gorgeous Rach!" You pull her in for a second hug as you all laugh at something funny Josh had said as the four of you pose for a picture.

After the premiere, Rachel sent you so many links to nearly every single social media platform. There were a bunch of posts and tiktoks about what happened with your dress and how Tom helped you by hugging you.

You chuckle as you show Tom the posts and hundreds of tiktoks that had already been posted. "They love you," Tom chuckles, kissing your forehead as the two of you lay in each others embrace.

[whosscruffylooking]

Helloooooooo, I hope you are well, I was thinking if you could make a little imagine about Paul Mescal x actress wife, what his life would be like (Maybe with children😭)

Of course! Hopefully this is something similar to what you were looking for. If not, send another request! 💕

The morning sunlight poured through the large bay windows of your home, casting a golden glow across the hardwood floors and filling the room with warmth. You were seated at the kitchen counter, cradling a cup of coffee as you flipped through a script, your eyes scanning the words half-heartedly. Your focus was pulled every few seconds by the sound of tiny, quick footsteps pattering across the floor.

“Look, Mama!” your two-year-old son, Theo, exclaimed, holding up a stuffed lion triumphantly as he waddled toward you. His bright blue eyes—so much like Paul’s—sparkled with joy.

“You caught him, huh?” you said, setting the script down to lean forward, feigning amazement. “The king of the jungle doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

Theo beamed, his curls bouncing as he climbed into your lap with the stuffed lion. He pressed it into your chest, clearly ready to start another game. Before you could entertain him further, the sound of Paul’s voice drifted in from the hallway.

“Has anyone seen my coffee?” he called, his tone playful.

Theo immediately wriggled out of your arms and bolted toward the voice, his tiny legs moving as fast as they could. “Dada! I have lion!”

Paul appeared in the doorway, wearing a soft gray sweater and black joggers, his hair slightly tousled from the morning. His face lit up when Theo barreled into him, clutching the lion and giggling.

“Well, if the lion is here, then everything’s fine,” Paul said, scooping Theo up effortlessly. He glanced at you over Theo’s shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Good morning, my love. Have you seen my coffee?”

You raised an eyebrow and gestured to the half-empty cup sitting on the counter beside you.

Paul grinned sheepishly. “Right. Forgot about that.” He walked over, still holding Theo, and leaned down to kiss you. It was a quick kiss, soft but affectionate, the kind of casual intimacy that came so easily now after years together.

“Busy morning?” he asked, his gaze flickering to the script on the counter.

“Just trying to make sense of this new role,” you said, sighing as you slid the script toward him. “It’s good, but the character needs work. They’re a little one-dimensional.”

Paul placed Theo on the floor, ruffling his hair before picking up the script. “You’ll figure it out,” he said confidently, flipping through the pages. “You always do.”

You smiled at him, appreciating his quiet reassurance. Paul had this way of making you feel capable of anything, even when you doubted yourself.

Theo, meanwhile, had wandered off to his play corner, where a train set and blocks were scattered across the rug. You and Paul watched him for a moment, a shared sense of wonder filling the space.

“Sometimes I can’t believe he’s ours,” Paul said quietly, his voice laced with awe.

You glanced at him, your heart swelling at the sight of him watching Theo with such love in his eyes. “Me neither,” you admitted. “He’s the best thing we’ve ever done.”

Paul looked at you then, his expression soft but intense. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you laughed lightly. “You’re too smooth for this early in the morning.”

He shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “What can I say? I’ve had practice.”

The premiere had been a whirlwind of flashing cameras, laughter, and the hum of excitement that came with the release of a highly anticipated film. You and Paul had walked the red carpet together, his hand resting protectively on your lower back, guiding you through the crowd of photographers and reporters. You’d both been dressed to perfection—him in a tailored black tuxedo that emphasized his broad shoulders, and you in an elegant, curve-hugging gown that made his eyes linger a little longer than usual.

Throughout the night, you couldn’t resist teasing him. It started with a subtle touch—a hand brushing over his thigh during an interview or leaning a little too close while whispering something playful in his ear.

“Do you have any idea how distracting you are?” he murmured at one point, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You glanced up at him with a mischievous smile, batting your lashes. “Distracting? I’m just enjoying the night.”

His lips twitched into a smirk, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t fooled.

By the time the premiere had ended and you’d finished mingling at the afterparty, the tension between you had built into something palpable. Paul’s hand never strayed far from you, his touches lingering just a bit longer, his gaze flickering to you every time you laughed or leaned in close to speak with someone else.

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet, the city lights casting soft shadows across his face. He reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his and holding tight. You caught the way his jaw clenched slightly, his gaze fixed out the window as though trying to keep his composure.

The suite was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city lights filtering through the curtains. The weight of the evening still lingered, a blend of champagne, laughter, and the subtle tension that had been simmering between you and Paul all night.

Paul closed the door behind you with a soft click, loosening the tie at his neck as he turned to you. His eyes swept over you, taking in every detail—the way your gown shimmered in the dim light, the way your smile curved just so, a knowing look dancing in your expression.

“You’ve been enjoying yourself, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice low and teasing as he stepped closer.

You arched a brow, tilting your head. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He chuckled softly, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer. “It means I’ve been counting down the minutes until we got back here,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple.

You smiled, your fingers resting against his chest as you looked up at him. “Well, here we are,” you said, your voice just as soft, just as playful.

Paul leaned down, his mouth grazing your ear as he spoke. “A night without a baby,” he began, his voice a mix of humor and something deeper. “Maybe we can make another one.”

You laughed lightly, the sound dissolving into a breathless hum as he kissed the corner of your mouth, his hands sliding to your lower back. “That’s quite the plan,” you whispered, your heart racing as his lips traveled down to your jawline, then back to meet yours.

His grin was mischievous, his eyes darkening with a mix of affection and desire. “Well, I’m nothing if not ambitious,” he teased, guiding you gently toward the bed.

When the backs of your knees met the edge of the mattress, he leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours, his breath warm and steady. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs tracing gentle circles against your cheeks. His eyes searched yours for a moment, a flicker of something tender and unspoken passing between you before he closed the distance.

His lips met yours softly at first, the kiss slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second. You let your hands slide up his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer. The two of you desperately claw at each other’s clothing, tearing them off and discarding them without a thought.

The kiss deepened, growing more urgent as Paul tilted his head, his lips moving against yours in perfect rhythm. His hands slid down to your hips, tugging you flush against him as he leaned over you, the mattress dipping beneath your weight.

You sank back onto the bed, bringing him with you, his body warm and solid against yours.

The room was cloaked in the kind of quiet that felt sacred, the only sounds the soft rustling of sheets and the steady rhythm of your breaths mingling in the stillness. Paul’s hands moved over your skin with an unhurried tenderness, fingertips tracing patterns as if he were committing every curve, every detail, to memory. His touch sent warmth blooming beneath your skin, a quiet intensity in the way his hands lingered, his palms firm but gentle.

There was a certain rhythm to the night, an unspoken language in the way you moved together. His lips found yours again and again, soft and seeking, while the heat between you built steadily, growing in waves. The quiet gasps, the way his name slipped from your lips like a whispered prayer, filled the space between you, creating a melody that was yours alone.

Paul’s forehead rested against yours at times, his breath uneven as he murmured your name, each syllable carrying the weight of his devotion. The peaks you reached together were like fleeting moments of euphoria, your bodies and souls intertwined in a way that felt endless, infinite.

When the stillness returned, it wasn’t empty. It was full of something deeper—a profound sense of connection that only seemed to grow with every shared moment. His arms wrapped around you as the night stretched on, his lips brushing your temple in the quiet aftermath.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion, his words a vow as his hands continued their soft, soothing paths along your back.

The room was yours, the night infinite, and the world outside didn’t exist. In Paul’s arms, with his breath steadying against your skin, you felt completely and utterly whole.

[ughdontbeboring]

pain relief

Austin Butler x WoC Reader (can be read by anyone)

Reader is trying to hide her chronic pain from her man

warnings: chronic pain (migraines), insecurities, smutty

THIS FOR ALL MY CHRONIC PAIN GIRLIES!!

notes: WOW even with all the Austin wips in my notes this is my first one to be posted, wow idk makes me nervous 😅 yall I hope I did our sweet boy justice.

No description of ethnicity one comment of complexion that’s it but reader when I write is always written with myself in mind. It’s soooo self indulgent.

this is SUPER self indulgent, So I first thought of this from his interview with Jimmy Kimmel when they asked about the migraines as an excuse not to have sex and of course his response was spot on he said “I don’t know what a migraine is” and Jimmy said “of cour you don’t” lmfao bc idk if I’d even turn him down if I had one!

I had a really bad period of back to back migraines for a couple months and this is what my brain rewarded me with in between one. I really don’t know what this is yall lol so don’t ask idk if I’m actually happy with it but yea lol

I put x reader but idk I guess it can tell be read that way, I don’t have the energy to re write it y’all so

now that I’m starting to feel better I will be catching up on my other wips.

if you like it, love it, fuck with it leave some love. I DO NOT give permission for my shit to be used anywhere by anyone.

🤕

Don’t focus on the pain, don’t focus on the pain she repeated over and over again in her head from under the safety of the soft cool cotton comforter as if it would keep away the pounding pain, protect her from it. 

It would not. 

Even with the house dead silent, the fan on for a little noise and all the black out curtains drawn that her boyfriend insisted he buy when he learned about her diagnosis from childhood- she knew relief would not find her. She shifted trying to readjust and find a more comfortable position to lay in, the little pocket above her head letting much needed cool air into her little bubble. 

She knew a few weeks ago she should have reached out to her neurologist but she’d just been so busy it kept slipping her mind and the aspirin had been holding her over but this? no this one was a monster and it was full peak right now. It started almost a day ago after the LA screening for The Bikeriders and had not gone away.

It didn’t help that they also just got back from the UK press tour. All the flying, the red carpets, the flashing lights and noise was starting to take its toll. Recently her boyfriend of just a little over a year revealed to her how much he enjoyed having her accompany him and how he loves sharing those moment with her. Hence all the traveling she’d done recently at his side. 

They still believed in healthy space but they truly enjoyed being together as much as they could. 

Usually she’d fly out every 2 or so weeks to wherever he was since her job was more flexible, their relationship was long distance since she was still living in New York. Which they’d also discussed changing that status but they both agreed to iron out the plans once the tour was over and he had a few weeks of down time. They figured the actual move would happen after he filmed in NY the end of summer. Knowing summer was her favorite time to be home, ever the thoughtful boyfriend. 

Though she was nervous to tell her family. They adored Austin but they’re a very close family and not seeing them everyday would take a lot of time to adjust to but it was important at this point in their relationship to actually be together. He even mentioned he’d love to look for a New York apartment which she had thought was unnecessary they could just stay with any of her family members when they visited until he reminded her she wouldn’t want her family to know she was his pretty girl who got cock drunk and loud when he fuck her stupid. Yes their own place was necessary. 

She felt a sharp pain at her temple and groaned. It was like her brain was telling her to stop thinking about all the stress and think about the pain she was in, which she didn’t want to do either honestly. She wish she could sleep it off but it was impossible. 

She flipped her pillow to the cool side and once again tried to empty her brain. Deep breaths girl deep breaths, the pain isn’t forever. 

She heard the front door slam shut up, which made her curl up even more in a fetal position and the deep smooth voice of her favorite person calling out to her. That voice was her favorite in the whole world but right now she needed silence. She had hoped the migraine would have been over by the time he got back but she wasn’t so lucky. Now she would have to face the music.

She had been telling him the past couple weeks it was just little headaches nothing serious, he knew she got migraines but hadn’t experienced any with her so far. The past 2 years she hadn’t needed to be medicated, the doctor couldn’t tell her why they suddenly stoped and why she was only getting little headaches every once in a while. This is why she was so unprepared and completely out of her medication she hadn’t needed in so long; she truly thought they had finally stopped for good. 

She couldn’t have been more wrong with the pain that was throbbing in her head. The front of her skull a constant ache and the back at the base of her skull and neck a wicked throbbing. The pain in her neck and shoulders unbearable even right between her eyes a sharp pain. She felt like she was dying. The fatigue of the attack her body was under was starting to catch up to her. She was trying to hold back the tears but the sound of boots pounding up the stairs along with the call of baby had her on the verge of a tearful melt down. 

She wanted to avoid the conversation that would surely come after this, when he would witness her in a peak migraine state. She felt horrible because she knew he’d feel like it was his fault for encouraging her to come with him to all the press events but it wasn’t his fault. 

She was an adult and she should have addressed this weeks ago with him and her doctor when the headaches started and not try to hide it to avoid worrying him. 

She should have been honest and though she has no reason to be she was scared to tell him.  She was scared he may think she wasn’t able to handle this kind of life. What if he wanted someone who didn’t need to recharge so often? Or someone who could just do anything with him at anytime not be laying in a bed sometimes for more then a day in pain and grumpy. Someone who couldn’t be touched in this state or be the prefect girlfriend. 

She also knew she sounded ridiculous that wasn’t who Austin was but it didn’t stop the insecurity she had about her migraines and how they held her back from life sometimes. Held her back from being fully emerged into his lifestyle. The guilt wrecked her. 

She knew she was mostly feeling insecure about her migraines because of those comments. She wasn’t normally insecure but recently she had read some comments which usually don’t bother her, about her and Austin’s relationship and how unhappy she looked being on press tour and if she was so unhappy why not just leave so he could be with someone who was happier with him. Those people obviously ignored the photos that were not taking at events that showed how happy they were but not knowing or they probably didn’t care she couldn’t be happier than she was, she was just suffering from more frequent migraines. 

So of course they’d focus on the bad, not all the fans but some. A lot of fans, who she felt were real fans could simply see how happy Austin seemed again. She knew how that felt, she met Austin as a fan and all his relationships and flings after Vanessa seemed lackluster and without any real connection, so she got it. But some of the comments were really getting to her at this moment. Especially the ones about how he looked happier with Kaia (which she knew was a lie from hell, she heard all about that relationship from Austin, his last ex) and then the ones about Vanessa looking happy ALL the time, which was funny because Austin spoke to her about their relationship also and if fans only knew it wasn’t always perfect, yes they loved each other but still there was a lot of hurt in that relationship for Austin. 

Then when those things would pop up she’d think what she’d say to her mans ex’s if she ever met them or if she’d just ignore them. 

Her head throbbed hard from all the unnecessary thinking and stress she was bringing onto herself, things she normal never paid any mind when the bedroom door swung open. 

Baby? He called again, steps coming to a slow stop halfway into the room when she assumed he noticed the state of the room; all the curtains drawn, the TV and lights all off, no noise but the fan she placed near the bed even though the central air was on and the pile of blankets on the bed covering her balled up body. Not a single part of her visible as she quickly stuck her hand out the air pocket at by her head careful to not let any light in and weakly waved at him. She could hardly speak let alone move her head to acknowledge him anymore. 

“Baby you still in bed? It’s 10” He asked as he walked closer, not that he cared it was just unusual for her and caused a bit of concern to form in the pit of stomach. 

He watched the head or he’s assuming area of the blanket shake in a yes motion. Even with the black out curtains there was still just enough light to make out everything in the room. 

“Baby what’s wrong” he asked in a soft voice from the edge of the bed, his hand running gently up and down some part of her body under the blanket. Her body coiled away from his touch. He tried to shake away the slight sting it caused him.

“uh migraine” she whispered weakly, if he wasn’t mistaken he could hear the underlying embarrassment in her tone. What could she be embarrassed about? 

“Oh shit baby, you need anything? Anything I can do?” He genuinely asked in gentler tone, though she couldn’t see how his eyes soften knowing she was probably in an immense amount of pain. 

He felt useless. 

“Uh no, just gotta be left alone for a while” this time there wasn’t any embarrassment in her tone just guilt. 

Austin tried to school his own face and tone of disappointment. He know he couldn’t do anything truly to make it go way but he wanted to help, wanted to be there for her like she’d been there for him on all his overwhelming days and nights from filming and traveling. His sweet girl deserved that. Then he thought back to this one thing he’d came across when he was reading online about migraines when she first told him she got them pretty frequently in the past. He quickly dismissed that idea, a slight blush creeping up his neck, he felt a little embarrassed himself for even thinking to suggest that, who says that to their partner Austin? He thought. She clearly needed to be alone. 

“Ok I’m just head downstairs then, call me if you need anything”  

He took another moment eyeing her blanket fortress before turning and slowly heading Towards their bedroom door.

“Austin?” He heard her call shyly, her voice still muffled from the layers covering her.

“Yea?” His own tone was laced with curiosity.

“Uh…there…there is one thing you could probably do for me…if you don’t mind..if you do it’s ok-“ 

He was quick to be at her side, slipping out his shoes, ready for whatever. His stomach burned a little thinking she may ask what he thought of just briefly a moment ago.

“Anything” 

He watched her baby blue fresh set of nails slip from under the blanket and her hand reaching out for his. His own large hand was in hers before he even registered it moving. She tugged him lightly, his body following gently. He was careful not to touch her as he laid next to her, his chest near where her head was, he remembered her saying how she didn’t like to be touched when she was having an episode, everything felt more intense and for some reason it usually amplified the pain. 

“Can I use your hand for a while?” She asked shyly still under the safety of the blankets, he could hear her clearer through the hole she left at the top. 

He felt guilty at the blood that rushed his cock.

“Of course” He said squeezing the right hand that held his left one. 

He allowed her to maneuver his hand so that his left hand was under her head, she placed his fingers at the base of her skull, thumb on one side and his fore finger and pointer finger on the left side.

“Can you keep your fingers like this and apply as much pressure as you can? This are some of my pain points and the right kind of pressure can ease the pain a little, usually I tie a scarf but it isn’t always helpful” she mumbled weakly. 

He was confused. 

“Oh ok..I..I thought-“ 

This wasn’t something he read, though he seen something about heat compress. He was confused because he thought she was going to ask for his hand to give her an orgasm. That was something interesting that he had came across. It said it didn’t work for everyone hence why he was slightly embarrassed to suggest it, he didn’t want her to think he was only thinking with his dick. 

He applied the pressure anyway, happy to help anyway he could.

“Is that good baby?”

“You can press a bit harder” 

He did as she said, feeling her body adjust just the tiniest bit next to him. A soft sigh leaving her lips.

She soft voice thanked him. He hummed a response, his own body adjusting slightly to get more comfortable.  He would lay here as long as she needed.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she called his name.

“Yea?” He asked feeling more tired himself than what he thought he was when he got home.

“What were you going to say? When I asked for your hand?” She replied softly voice full of the need for sleep.

His felt that fire and a blush come back. He chuckled to himself. Now was good as anytime to confess his unconventional suggest and figure out if it was something helpful to her or if it was something she even heard of before. 

“Uh..I..I had been reading about migraines when you first told me you got them, trying to understand them better-“ He was cut off by a whimper she made, a pitiful sound of endearment. He knew what she was thinking, she was taken back by his willingness to be there for her however he could and that meant trying to understand what she would be going through. He kept going. “And I was reading how orgasms can sometimes help temporarily, but I didn’t want you to think I was just thinking with my dick” he concluded softly. Feeling better about just getting it out and in the open, it didn’t feel so dirty anymore, like he was taking advantage somehow. He knew her better than to think she would think that but it didn’t stop his insecurities about the topic. 

He felt her body stilled.

shit was she mad at him? He felt the slight unease creep into his stomach and his insecurities intensify at the thought that she would be mad at him for suggesting such a thing when he noticed her right hand slip from under the covers. 

Her soft palm facing up and open in a silent question and permission, are you still willing? And of course you can touch me. 

He let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding and gave her his right hand, her soft fingers gently pulled his under the covers, her forearm resting ontop of his own as she slipped his hand under hers to be guided where he couldn’t see. Once his rough fingers tips ghosted over her wet pussy he didn’t need anymore guidance, he knew her too well, maybe better than she knew herself. 

She gasped at the first touch and her hand left his to grip his forearm, as he’d started to explore her wet folds.

“How are you this wet already sweet girl? Hmm? Just can’t help yourself around daddy?” Austin questioned softly from above her, awe clear in his voice. He stayed laid on his left side, careful his body other than his hands didn’t touch her. 

“Fuck” she groaned quietly from under the blankets. “Guess my body always needs you daddy” she moaned out. He groaned as his fingers applied more pressure and speed. 

He felt the twitch in cock as she coated his fingers and moaned softly and weakly. His fingers switching between slow and quick. He was so painfully hard. He had to stay focus this was about her but how could he when her tight wet warm pussy was calling him? Begging for him. Her body was hardly moving just her hips grinding slowly into him.

Even fully covered by a ton of blankets he was still completely in-tune with her body. He didn’t need to see her face though he wished he could to kiss her soft lips, to know the pleasure he was giving her, to know she was close. 

He blindly felt the warmth and wetness of her pussy driving into his hand slowly chasing the pleasure he was somehow able to provide in this state.

“Cum for me pretty girl, take it” he groaned lowly.

She moaned out, she sounded so exhausted and pitiful but he could tell she wanted this, needed it and he was more than happy to give it to her. 

She squealed softly as she rocked against his hand, her body exploding and the sweetness of her drenching his fingers, her face seeking the comfort of his embrace under the blanket, he moved over slightly as his left hand still pressed to the pain points guided her, help her her blanket covered forehead lay against his chest. Her hips kept rocking slowly chasing the feeling.

“There you go baby” his husky voice praised even with a migraine she was still his good girl. So wet and warm and tight for him.

Moments passed with his fingers still cupping her warm sticky folds and the other still applying the pressure she required, neither hand moved as he felt her drift of to sleep, her body finally relaxing from the endorphins of her orgasm. 

Austin woke to the press of a soft warm body slightly on top of his and light kisses and licks against his neck. He stirred and tried to adjust his eyesight to the darkness that had over taking the room. It must be late.

“Hey baby” her voice sounded softly, her lips suddenly near his own. She kissed his plump mouth, pecking kisses over and over. She sounded a lot better.

His arms moved to embrace her, pulling her further ontop of him and as close as he could get her. 

“Hey baby” he replied his eyes seeking hers. The dimmed light from the hallway allowed him to finally see her. Though he didn’t physically see her face earlier, he knew she looked more well rested than she had in the past day or two. Her eyes had a fatigue to them but he was sure that would clear up from the migraine once she got some more rest. All and all she almost looked back to her normal self. 

Her hand snaked up his chest to cup his face.

“Thank you, for everything” she told him a little emotionally.

He brought his lips to her for a passionate kiss, before laying his foreheads on hers.

“You don’t ever have to thank me, I’m yours, that’s what I’m here for, to take care of you” he whispered against her lips.

She pecked his again. 

“And I’m still going to say thank you” she mumbled.

He pinched her side playfully as she laughed and pushed at him.

They just gazed at one another and she had to blink to stop the tears. She had woke to Austin on his back, her body against his. She had unconsciously sought his while she slept as the tension faded from her body and to her surprise his hand was still gripping the back of her head. The pressure had loosed when he eventually fell asleep but his hand was still there nonetheless. She didn’t think she could love the man more and here she was slipping further in the ocean that was Austin and some how she was learning she could breathe underwater. He was everything to her.

“I have a surprise for you sweet boy” she said smiling at him like he hung the moon and she’d die on that hill that he did.

Austin’s chest ached in a good way. He never wanted this to end. Couldn’t imagine it being any other way. Everything that had failed for him relationship wise lead him to this moment with her. He was better for it. 

“Hmm, what’s that?” 

She nodded her head to the side of him and that’s when he noticed the en-suite bathroom door open and the soft glow of candles burning. The scent of oils and salts hitting him. He quickly turned back to her.

“Wh-“ 

“You were knocked out and I wanted to return the love” 

“You little sneak” he accused tickling her sides.

She was quick to scramble away from his hold and climb over him getting to her feet and out of his grasp when his hands followed her as she head toward the bathroom.

She stopped short of the door as she pulled her oversize graphic shirt over her head. 

“I would do that you know, sometimes, never with men though, I hated being touched during my migraines but when it was really bad and I had the energy I would do it myself to help ease the pain” she spoke from the doorway to the bathroom, the soft light surrounding her body, giving a even more beautiful glow to her brown skin. “I didn’t think it would ever work from someone else’s hand, not too sure what that means handsome” she smirked.

So she had done that before he thought but just never with man, no man had ever made her comfortable enough to try let alone achieve bringing her relief. Austin felt those butterflies in this stomach again, he felt a sense a pride swell in his chest. His cock was even stirring again. That’s exactly who he wanted to be for her, the man that gave what she needed, what others couldn’t, he wanted to be the one no other man could compare to. He wanted to be her all.

She smirked at him almost as if she could read his every thought and she could because they mirror her own and how she felt about him.

“Lets go loverboy, it’s time for the real show” 

X

X

ALSO yall don’t have to say anything abt it but i find it helps SOMETIMES but alone so I thought who could make this work for me with another person of course our boy Austin could bc he’s so perfect. He’s the only one I’d let touch me with a migraine lol

[kikyoupdates]

NSFW Alphabet | Nanami Kento x F!Reader

NSFW with Nanami Kento

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It comes as no surprise that Nanami is diligent and attentive with his aftercare. He’ll be sure to wipe you down, bring you a glass of cold water, some clean clothes to change into, and just about anything else you need. 

He also just enjoys spending time with you afterwards. He likes basking in the afterglow, the warmth of your presence. He’s more than happy to lie next to you and hold you snug against his broad chest as he gently strokes your hair and occasionally presses kisses to your forehead.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Nanami’s favorite body part of himself is probably his hands. They help give him some sense of assurance, as if he’s strong and in control. A lot of this has to do with his lifestyle as a jujutsu sorcerer, but he also relies on his hands to touch you, hold you, and protect you. He’s not really the type to spend much time fixating on his own appearance (even though you constantly tell him how attractive he is).

Nanami’s favorite body part of yours would either be your eyes, or your lips. He can never get over the way you look at him, with so much want and adoration. It makes him feel seen, loved, and at peace. He also loves your lips because of how soft they feel when he kisses you, and how pretty you look when they curve into a smile. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His cum doesn’t have a particularly distinct taste. It isn’t overly bitter or unpleasant, mainly because he takes care of himself and has a pretty good diet. 

It usually comes out pretty thick spurts when he finishes, though. Nanami would never try to pressure you into having sex without protection, but if you’re on birth control or if you’re trying to get pregnant, he has to admit, he loves the feeling of being able to have sex raw and finish inside of you. He can’t help but be mesmerized when he pulls out and watches his cum ooze out of your wet, swollen pussy. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Nanami is honestly pretty vanilla, and he doesn’t really feel like any of his sexual preferences are so outlandish that they need to be hidden. If he had to pick, his dirtiest secret would probably be that he’s fantasized of filming the two of you while you have sex, just so that he can watch it back on his own time, when he’s missing you. He would never bring this up himself, though, so you would definitely have to be the one to suggest it. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced. He isn’t the kind of guy to have had many partners, and he definitely doesn’t enjoy casual sex, either. But what he lacks in numbers, he more than makes up for in natural perception and attentiveness. He loves you, which means he’s going to be focusing on all of your reactions, down to the most subtle details. It won’t take him long to learn exactly what you like, and what has you moaning the loudest. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

His favorite positions are missionary or when you’re facing towards him and straddling his lap. Nanami much prefers the positions where he can clearly see your face while you’re having sex. He also loves having your arms constantly wrapped around him, and the feeling of your breasts pushed up against his chest.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very serious. Not in a stern way, but he’s definitely not the type to tease or crack any jokes during sex. He just focuses all of his attention on savoring the moment and making sure you feel good.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Definitely well groomed and regularly trims down there for a neat, tidy appearance. The carpet mostly matches the drapes—his hair down there is a darker shade of blond than the hair on his head. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Nanami is extremely intimate in general, and this carries over into the bedroom too. He’ll almost always be hugging you tight during the act, or if one of your hands is free, he’ll make sure to interlock your fingers with his. He will repeatedly praise you during the act, telling you how perfect and beautiful you are, and he won’t hesitate to tell you he loves you, either. 

Sex makes him feel even more vulnerable than usual, but he trusts you with his whole heart, and won’t hesitate to show how he feels.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Nanami very rarely jacks off. He would occasionally do it back when he was single, but since you’ve become his partner, he much prefers to do something intimate with you instead. The only instances where he’ll choose to jack off are if he’s apart from you for an extended period of time, or if you send him a dirty picture and he gets too excited to hold back.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He definitely has a praise kink. The more you compliment him and tell him how much you love him, the more turned on he’ll get. He also enjoys seeing you go out of your way to look pretty for him (even though you always look pretty), by wearing lingerie and stuff. It’s less about the actual lingerie, and more so the fact that you’re always thinking of him and doing your best to make him happy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom, all the way. For Nanami, sex is a very private, intimate affair, and he would never want to do it in risky places where you might get caught. He also hates the thought of someone walking in and seeing you naked. So, most of the time, you’ll end up doing it in the bedroom, but other places around the apartment are also a possibility (like on the couch, against a wall, etc.)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

What turns Nanami on is when you tell him how badly you want him. Hearing how much you love him and cherish him not only fills him with happiness and fulfillment, but every time you profess your feelings without holding anything back, he can’t help but want to take you right then and there. The more you praise him and remind him of how much he means to you, the more likely he is to pin you down to the bed. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Mostly anything involving pain. He doesn’t enjoy getting hurt, but most importantly, he would never want to hurt you either. Within reason, of course. If you ask him to bite you a bit or pull your hair, he might be open to it. But he tends to avoid stuff like choking or more hardcore stuff.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers giving over receiving. Not that he doesn’t love the sight of you choking on his cock, guiding your lips up and down his length as you stare up at him through teary eyes (it actually drives him insane), but if he had to choose, he would still rather spread your legs and eat you out as if you’re his last meal. Nanami’s favorite thing is making you feel pleasure. He loves your sweet taste, the moans you let out, and being able to feel your thighs twitch when you orgasm. 

He will also gladly let you sit on his face.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual. Nanami’s goal is always to make you finish and have you practically seeing stars because of how good he makes you feel. He wants the sex to be intimate, but also passionate, and he’d rather pace himself and hit all your sweet spots rather than rush to a climax. It’s also easier to stare into your eyes and kiss you when he maintains a slower pace. Intimacy is the most important part to him, and there will definitely be moments where he pounds into you a lot faster, but as a whole, he prefers to take his time and carefully explore every inch of your body. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Nanami definitely prefers proper sex over a quickie. Even if you approach him with the intention of a quickie, it’ll usually turn into a much longer, much more passionate session. He wants to make love to you, not just fuck you, so quickies with him are exceedingly rare. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t often experiment. If anything, you will have to be the one to suggest new things in the bedroom, and again, he’ll only do things that don’t involve seriously hurting you. As a whole, he’s pretty vanilla. He tries to be open-minded because he loves you and wants to make you happy, but he won’t take that many risks.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Near endless stamina. Not only because he’s a powerful, trained jujutsu sorcerer, but his physique alone should be proof enough that he won’t tire easily. Since he doesn’t rush anything, he’s able to control himself and avoid finishing too fast. But even if he does finish, he’s more than happy to go another round—or however many you want, really. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does not own any toys, and prefers to have sex without them. If you really, really want to try out a particular toy that’s not too extreme, he’ll consider it. But he would only ever use it on you, not himself. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Almost never teases. Sometimes in the moment he might make the odd remark, while chuckling in that deep, gravelly voice of his, but usually, whatever he says he’s going to do to you, he will do to you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Definitely more on the quiet side. You’ll hear him gasp softly every now and then, and he’ll bite back moans as well. The sounds he makes during are unbelievably sexy, but he’s mindful of not being too loud. You’ll mostly notice the changes in his expression instead, like how his brows knit together, and how he’ll clench his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut when something feels extra good. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

It doesn’t necessarily even have to involve sex, but Nanami loves just taking a bath together with you. He finds it incredibly relaxing, and he adores the sensation of your soft, damp skin against his. He’ll hold you close, and he’ll even gently scrub your back or wash your hair. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s roughly 7.5 inches long when fully erect, but even more impressive is just how thick his cock is. It stretches you out perfectly and always leaves you craving more. The veins along his shaft are pretty noticeable, and the head flushes a deep red while he’s hard.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before he met you, he had a below-average sex drive. Sex really wasn’t his priority and he didn’t think about it much. But since sex is more about intimacy for him, and connecting with his partner even more, his sex drive has definitely increased. He’ll find it difficult to keep his hands off you, and if you approach him yourself, it’s very unlikely that he’ll ever refuse.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t fall asleep easily, and is more than happy to cuddle you after sex. You’re usually the one who falls asleep before him, and he doesn’t mind. He’ll just hold you close and smile as he gazes upon your peaceful, resting expression, and eventually, he’ll be so relaxed and at ease that he’ll fall asleep too. 

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[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ how they react to you randomly throwing yourself on the floor and yelling "I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!"

ᨳ♡₊➳ feat. gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

₊⊹. Satoru Gojo

The very moment your body hits the floor, he’s already in motion—no hesitation, no thought, just pure, unfiltered chaos. He throws himself down beside you with a level of theatrical commitment that would make a seasoned Shakespearean actor weep.

"BABE?!? BABE, NOOOOOOOO!" he cries out, his voice cracking mid-scream like an overworked opera singer. With all the grace of a man who has never known the concept of subtlety, he dramatically shakes your shoulders as if he's trying to reset a Nintendo 64 cartridge.

The situation escalates immediately—because, of course, it does. One second, you're lying there in mild inconvenience, and the next, Gojo has fully committed to the bit. He cradles your head in his lap, clutching you like you’re a fallen soldier in a tragic war film. He tilts his head back, gazing up at the ceiling with glassy eyes, and suddenly—he's monologuing.

“Oh, cruel fate! How merciless you are to steal away my one true love in the prime of their youth!" His voice trembles with emotion as he strokes your hair, his other hand clutching his chest. "What good is my power if I cannot protect the one I hold dearest? Am I even worthy of the title of strongest?"

You stare up at him, absolutely dumbfounded. Somewhere in the background, you swear you hear the faint echoes of tragic violin music (probably playing from his phone).

Before you can protest, Gojo takes things to an even more unnecessary level. He yanks out his phone, thumbs moving at light speed.

"WE NEED A HEALER—" he bellows into the receiver.

Your brain short-circuits. “Gojo, what the—”

"SHOKO, YOU HAVE TO COME QUICK!" he cries dramatically, pacing now, as if the weight of the world is crushing him. "IT'S BAD. IT'S REALLY BAD."

You sit up with a sigh, rubbing your temple. “Gojo. I literally just dramatically fell for attention. I’m fine.”

There’s a long pause. A suspiciously long pause.

Then, like a switch flipping, his entire demeanor immediately changes. His teary, grief-stricken expression vanishes in an instant, replaced with his usual mischievous grin. He blinks down at you, casually ending his fake emergency call like he didn’t just cause emotional devastation for fun.

“Oh.” He dusts off his pants, completely unfazed. “Okay, cool. So, like, wanna go buy something wildly unnecessary and stupidly expensive to heal your soul?"

Before you can even process what just happened, he’s already pulling out his Black Card, holding it up like a golden ticket to financial irresponsibility.

You exhale sharply, placing a hand over your heart. “Gojo, I think I actually am dying now.”

“See?! I knew I wasn’t overreacting.”

And just like that, you’re being whisked away for a completely unnecessary shopping spree because, in Gojo's mind, retail therapy is a legitimate medical treatment.

₊⊹. Suguru Geto

You collapse onto the floor like a dying swan in a tragic ballet. Geto, currently sipping his tea like a man who has mastered the art of serene detachment, watches your performance unfold with the emotional range of a houseplant. He doesn’t react—not immediately, anyway. He just tilts his head slightly, blinks once, then takes another slow, thoughtful sip.

“Rough day?” he asks, as if your corpse-like sprawl isn’t deeply concerning and like this is a normal Tuesday for you (which, to be fair, it kind of is).

“Yes, actually,” you groan, face-first into the carpet.

Geto hums, a low, considering sound, like he’s analyzing the weight of human suffering itself. And then—with absolutely zero hesitation or context—he drops to the floor beside you. “If you’re going down, I’m going down with you.”

Now, you’re just two bodies on the floor, lying side by side like the world's most exhausted crime scene victims.

For a second—a very brief, fleeting second—you feel touched. This is kind of romantic in a weird, stupid way. He could have ignored your suffering, but no. He chose to join you in it. “That’s sweet.”

“I know,” he replies. Then, completely deadpan, he adds, “Shall we hold hands and ascend to the next realm?”

You’re laughing before you can stop yourself, and Geto just smirks, clearly very pleased with himself. He’s not the type to make a huge fuss, but he is the type to match your energy, even if your energy is currently Existential Crisis via Floor™.

Eventually, he pulls you up and forces you to drink warm cup of tea because, “If you’re going to suffer, at least be hydrated."

₊⊹. Kento Nanami

Nanami is in the kitchen, minding his own business, making his morning coffee like a responsible, tax-paying adult. And that's when you dramatically fling yourself onto the floor like you’re in an overacted soap opera. He doesn’t react immediately—he just stands there, silently stirring his coffee.

You wait.

And wait.

A full thirty seconds pass before he finally exhales, long and suffering, like a man who has already lived through a thousand lifetimes of nonsense. “Do I even want to ask?”

“I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE,” you wail, the sheer agony in your voice so theatrical it deserves a standing ovation.

Nanami takes what might be the longest, most exhausted sip of coffee in the history of mankind before muttering, “Neither can I.”

This is a man who has fought for his life against special-grade curses. A man who has endured the unrelenting chaos that is Gojo Satoru’s existence. A man who has spent years dealing with the absurdities of Jujutsu society. And yet, somehow—somehow—you, sprawled out on the floor, being extra—seems to be what breaks his spirit.

He crouches down next to you, his tie slightly loosened, looking so tired. “You say that often. And yet, you persist.”

“Yes, because I’m suffering.”

Nanami sighs then reaches over and gently peels your arm away from your covered face. "What happened?"

You sniffle. "I just remembered that my favorite childhood snack got discontinued."

Silence.

Not just silence, but Nanami silence—the kind that could make even Gojo rethink his life choices. Nanami stares at you for a long, long moment. Then, without a word, he gets up, walks to the kitchen.

You peek over the couch like a guilty dog. “You’re not even gonna roast me?”

“No,” he says simply, grabbing his phone and pulling up a search page. “If I did, I would not be a man worthy of you.”

You clutch your chest like you’ve just been struck by divine intervention. “NANAMI, STOP, I’M GONNA CRY.”

Completely unaffected, he continues scrolling. “What was the name of the snack?”

You whisper it reverently, as if speaking its name too loudly would make the grief too real. He nods once and, within seconds, finds a recipe online with the efficiency of a man who probably filed his taxes in January.

The next thing you know, Nanami is moving with the focus of a Michelin-star chef. He’s measuring ingredients, mixing them with precision, his expression unreadable but his actions entirely sincere. You can only watch in shock as he moves around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, brows slightly furrowed.

This is the Nanami experience: a man who will not entertain your nonsense, but will also go to ridiculous lengths to support it in his own methodical, devastatingly attractive way.

₊⊹. Choso Kamo

The moment you throw yourself onto the floor, Choso looks genuinely alarmed. His entire body tenses, his eyes immediately scanning the room for threats. This man has spent most of his life fighting, so his immediate instinct is that you’ve been attacked. He’s already prepared to throw hands, use his Blood Manipulation, and avenge your fall.

“Who did this to you?” he demands, voice laced with deadly seriousness.

You peek up at him from the floor. “Capitalism.”

Choso frowns, staring at you like you’ve just uttered the name of an ancient, malevolent entity. “Is that a curse?”

You sigh, the weight of the world pressing against your soul. “Basically.”

He stands there, actually considering fighting 'capitalism' for you. In this moment, you are not just his beloved—you are a victim of an unseen force, and he must destroy it. You see it in his eyes—the sheer, genuine concern. You have to clarify that you are, in fact, just being dramatic.

Once he realizes this, he crouches beside you and with an almost painfully stiff movement, he gently—oh-so-awkwardly—pats your shoulder. It’s the kind of stiff, tentative touch you’d give a traumatized pigeon you’re trying to befriend.

"There, there,” he says, voice unnaturally formal, like he’s reading dialogue from a handbook titled 'How To Human: Basic Comfort Edition.' “It will be okay.”

You stare at him. His movements are so mechanical, so stiffly rehearsed, like he’s performing a first-aid procedure on an injured bird he has no idea how to care for but really, really wants to help.

You want to laugh, but honestly? You’re touched.

Choso doesn’t always understand human emotions, but what he does understand is that you are sad, and that makes him upset. He cannot let this stand.

So, in the only way he knows how to truly show solidarity—he joins you.

Without hesitation, Choso lowers himself onto the floor, lying beside you. He takes your hand in his, his grip firm, and grounding.

"If you need anything," he says, voice low and sincere, "just tell me. I will do my best to make the world a little less exhausting for you."

And that? That’s when you actually start crying.

₊⊹. Toji Fushiguro

Toji is sitting on the couch, one leg stretched out, scrolling through his phone like a man with zero responsibilities and even less motivation to gain any. He’s so relaxed it’s almost an art form—the pinnacle of bare minimum energy.

And then, in a move so dramatic it could win an Oscar for Best Overreaction, you collapse onto the floor like a medieval peasant who just got diagnosed with the plague and a tax increase in the same breath. Arms sprawled, face pressed to the ground, you release a noise that is one-third sigh, two-thirds existential despair.

Toji’s response?

The barest flicker of an eyebrow raise.

He gives you a long, considering glance, the way someone might look at someone's spilled drink in the room—mildly aware of the issue, but not entirely convinced it’s his problem. Then, deciding it is not, he calmly resumes scrolling.

You lift your head just enough to squint at him. “Wow. Not even a little concern?”

Toji doesn’t even pause. “Did you die?”

“…No?”

“Then you’re fine.”

You groan louder, rolling onto your back like you’ve been emotionally sniped. “I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE.”

“Then don’t.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, narrowing your eyes. “That’s not how life works, Toji.”

He finally, finally looks up from his phone, just enough to make prolonged eye contact while lazily shrugging. “Sounds like a you problem.”

You are so close to throwing something at him.

Toji is absolutely not the comforting type. If anything, he finds your suffering mildly entertaining. You can practically see the amusement glinting in his eyes every time you get extra like this. He thrives off it.

And yet.

Despite his lazy indifference, despite his refusal to play into your dramatics, despite every ounce of his cold-blooded energy—

He nudges you.

With his foot.

Like you’re actual roadkill, and he’s checking if you’re still breathing.

“C’mon, get up,” he mutters, like he’s doing you the world’s biggest favor. “I’ll buy you food or whatever.”

Your soul immediately resurrects.

In less than a second, you shoot up from the floor like a zombie reanimating in a horror movie. The promise of food has restored you.

Toji smirks, fully aware of what just happened. He knew exactly what he was doing. Food is the one thing that can drag you back from the depths of despair.

So, yeah. Toji absolutely won’t give you some deep emotional pep talk. He won’t hold your hand and whisper encouragements about your worth and potential. But he will bribe you with food to make you stop being dramatic.

And honestly? You’ll take it.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

And Action!

Fandom: Marvel (Actor AU)

Pairing: Movie Star!Bucky x Journalist!Reader fic.

Summary: The chemistry between you, a journalist, and Bucky, a movie star, is undeniable. After dancing around each other for the past year, Bucky’s ready for the game to end.

“Y/N!” your break out into a wide grin as Bucky exclaims your name. He approaches you with a big smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

You’ve been waiting with the other journalists along the red carpet, chatting with the cast and crew of the new movie The Queen’s Shadow.

The main stars are Yelena Belova and Bucky Barnes. You’d just finished interviewing Yelena and now Bucky is headed your way.

“Hi, Bucky. It’s good to see you again!”

He chuckles, “You as well and,” he turns to his assistant and accepts the thermos, “Hot chocolate like I promised.”

You can’t help but cackle, “I was hoping you’d remember.”

He shrugs, a grin on his lips, “Of course. I promised you, didn’t I?”

You take a moment to open the thermos and take a little sip of the beverage. Your body instantly warms from the hot drink but as well as the sweet comforting taste of the chocolate, “You were right. You make a mean hot chocolate.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Bucky responds with a chuckle.

You then set the thermos to the side, “Okay. So congrats on the movie. Everyone’s prayers have been answered because you’ve finally gone back to your roots being in rom-coms. How does it feel?”

“So fun. Don’t get me wrong. The action movies I’ve done recently are fun too, but rom-coms are a different kind of fun. I can be a little goofy, be a complete dork while also be charming-“

“Basically be more of yourself?” You ask with a smirk.

He snorts, “Yes! Basically! And to work alongside Yelena, who’s, ya know, one of my best friend’s sister, was really a treat because this is her big debut. I was able to watch and guide her. Even though sometimes we’d get into arguments here and there because we’re like siblings. But yeah, it was fun.”

“Was it a little weird to play love interests since you two are like siblings?”

“At first, yeah. But we discussed it and, ya know, this is our job as actors. Whatever our personal relationship is, it doesn’t matter when we’re on set. We’ve got a job to do so we went and did it.”

“Did Nat threaten you at all when she heard you and Yelena would be working with each other?”

Bucky scoffs, “Of course, Nat did. But I get it. She’s just protective of her sister. I’m like that with my sister so I can’t fault her for that.”

You nod in understanding. You always enjoyed talking with Bucky because conversations with him were so easy and he was always so passionate about the projects he’s worked on.

“Alright, now for the hard hitting question.”

Bucky nods and rubs his hands together, “Okay, watcha got for me?”

You take a deep breath and lean closer, “Who would win in a fight: Mason Rhodes or Jayce Ryder?” Mason Rhodes is his character in The Queen’s Shadow and Jayce Ryder is his character in his previous action movie franchise.

Bucky chuckles, “Oh that’s a hard one…probably Mason.”

“Really?” You ask him in surprise.

He shrugs, “Well not to spoil too much, Mason was trained to fight and know how to protect the Queen. Jayce, while he does know how to fight, he’s self-trained and a little sloppy. Kinda fights more with his heart while Mason fights with his brain, you know?”

You nod, “Makes sense!” You see Bucky’s assistant pull on his sleeve to let him know he needs to move on, “Well, I’ll let you continue down the line. It was great speaking with you! And thanks again for the hot chocolate!”

“Of course! It was great seeing you. See you next time!” He gives you a wink and a wave and follows where his publicist guides him next.

—————-

Not many journalists are invited to after parties. However, your friend, Joaquin, a PA who worked on the film, invited you as his plus one.

You’re chatting with him by the hors d’oeuvres table when Bucky approaches, “Hi,” he’s a little more shy this time. He turns to Joaquin, giving him a nod, “Torres.”

“Bucky,” Joaquin says with a big smile, “Movie was great, man!”

“Oh, thanks! Yeah, it-it was fun.” Bucky looks back at you, “Did you enjoy it?”

You nod, “Your performance was great, but I enjoyed Yelena’s a little bit more.”

He chuckles, “I understand. She was amazing.”

“Oh! I see Sam. I’ll be right back!” Joaquin excused himself to talk to the other actor.

Bucky clears his throat, “So, uh, you drink all the hot chocolate?”

You shake your head, “It’s in my car. Saving the rest for later. But did you really come here to talk to me about hot chocolate, Bucky?” You ask with a smirk.

You and Bucky have been dancing around each other for the past year. You’ve worked with him a lot over the last few years but it wasn’t until recently that your interviews with him started getting a little more playful and flirty.

Sometimes it was you that really upped the playful, flirty vibes. Other times, it was Bucky. Neither of you were put off by it. It was all in good fun and definitely gave Bucky a lot of publicity.

“Not really. I actually wanted to ask if you were tired.”

Your brows furrow and your head tilts to side in confusion, “Tired?”

“Of this game we’ve been doing lately?” That shy demeanor is replaced with that teasing, playfulness you’ve encountered before.

“I don’t know, Barnes. Are you?”

“I am.”

“So,” you step closer to him, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Bucky glances at your lips and then licks his own, “Well, I was thinking we can finally exchange numbers and I take you on a date.”

“That right? Where do you plan to take me?”

“I have a place in mind.”

You pout, “You’re not gonna tell me?”

“You’ll find out if you say yes.”

You sigh, “You really wanna date me? I’m a journalist. I could spill all your dirty secrets.”

He cocks a brow at you, “That what you plan to do?”

You scoff, “Fuck no. I’d never.”

“And that’s why I wanna date you, among other things.”

“Tell me,” you step even closer to him.

He smirks, “I will,” he leans in, lips hovering over yours, “on our date.”

He steps back and you realize your phone is now in his hands, “Hey!” You exclaim with a laugh, and he laughs with you.

“I may have learned a thing or two from my action movies,” he hands you your phone so you can unlock it. You hand it back to him when you do and he inputs his number.

He hands you his own phone and you enter in your number.

“I’ll be busy this week for premiere stuff but afterwards, I have some down time before I start my next project. I’ll call you when I’m free to hash out the details?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Perfect. I gotta continue making my rounds, but enjoy the rest of your night,” he leaves you again with another wink and a fluttering in your chest.

[primesolutionsnewzealand]

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[sterifels-blog]

simon "ghost" riley

The first time Simon saw your boyfriend, he knew.

Oh, he knew. Not in that “you’re too good for him” way you half-expected your protective, burly best friend to behave. No, Simon hated him with a ferocity so immediate, so visceral, it made his blood hum a little sharper. He didn’t just hate him. He despised him. Abhorred him. Wanted to roll his sleeves up and grate him into the damn carpet with the sheer force of his forearms alone. And if that wasn’t enough, he wanted to spend the rest of his natural-born life proving to you (and to himself, if we’re being honest) that he was better.

Tighter shirts. The flex of his fists when your boyfriend spoke in that grating voice Simon privately referred to as "discount Casanova." The subtle, almost casual cracks of his knuckles whenever the man dared to open his mouth about you in any way that wasn’t pristine worship. Every time your boyfriend laughed at you instead of with you, Simon would let out a low, bone-chilling chuckle of his own— a rumbling thing, gravelly and sharp, because he wasn’t laughing at all.

And then there was that one night.

It wasn’t like Simon was trying to hover. He wasn’t. He didn’t need to be your babysitter. You were strong, capable, smarter than everyone Simon had ever met— except, apparently, when it came to that bloody waste of oxygen you called a boyfriend. But when he saw the way your smile dimmed just a little too much at something the guy said, the way your fingers tightened around your glass as if to crush it, something ancient and primal roared inside Simon’s chest.

He stayed behind when you went home. Watched the fool stagger out into the night like a walking bad decision. Simon followed him with the quiet, measured gait of a shadow given form—leather jacket snug over his frame, boots heavy, but silent as sin.

Simon wasn’t poetic about what happened next. He didn’t need to be. There was no artistry in the precise, methodical lesson he taught your boyfriend in a dim alleyway under a broken porch light. (Broken now, thanks to your boyfriend's skull, if Simon were feeling particularly cheeky about it.) He made sure the man knew exactly why he was being "affectionately" restructured. And when the lesson ended, Simon left without a single word but with a vivid reminder that would stick for weeks:

stay the hell away.

The next morning, your boyfriend broke up with you via text message. A single line of lukewarm cowardice you barely had time to process before Simon was at your door, arms laden with snacks, beer, and the sweater you always stole anyway.

You curled up next to him on the couch, face half-hidden in the collar of that massive gray hoodie, and let out an exhausted sigh. Your voice was soft when you mumbled- sniffling with a stuffy nose from your previous sobs, “I just don’t get it, Si. I thought he cared..”

Simon didn’t answer right away, gaze fixed on the screen as Finding Nemo played in the background—a film you’d insisted on because you needed something light and harmless. Of course, to Simon, it wasn’t harmless at all. He frowned as Marlin yelled at Dory, the tiny blue fish babbling nonsense with frantic, short-term determination.

“'Course he didn’t care. Idiot didn’t even notice he was playing chicken with a shark,” Simon finally muttered, his deadpan delivery laced with something so dry you almost didn’t catch it.

You looked up, confused. “Huh?”

“Forget your boyfriend,” Simon said, tone flat as a blade. “This is why I don’t swim. Can’t trust anything with gills. Bloody sharks, jellyfish, clownfish...all useless. Why d’you think they call it Finding Nemo? Should’ve named it Simon Was Right: Stay Out of the Water.”

You snorted, unable to help yourself, and Simon glanced down at you, lips quirking upward just enough to show the barest hint of satisfaction.

And there it was. That warmth. That comfort. Simon didn’t need to say it, didn’t need to spell it out for you in big, stupid letters. You could see it in the way his arm stayed firm around your shoulders, in the way he made sure your blanket covered your toes, in the way his ridiculous commentary on Finding Nemo somehow made you feel whole again.

Yeah. You'd find your own way to thank him later.

[artemisia-black]

House elf speech patterns and the ‘happy slave’ trope

The way house-elves speak with their exaggerated, broken syntax, subject verb disagreements, and deferential tone bears an uncomfortable resemblance to the way enslaved people have been depicted in film, particularly in movies that glorify the antebellum south.

Take Winky’s syntax :

“But I knows Dobby too, sir!” squeaked the elf. She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, though the Top Box was not brightly lit. “My name is Winky, sir — and you, sir — ” Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry’s scar. “You is surely Harry Potter!”

Then there’s Dobby:

“Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!” Dobby squeaked. “But Dobby hasn’t found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!”

Even Kreacher, who has a slightly different speech pattern still broadly speaks in the similar affected way.

“Kreacher did not see Young Master,” he said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still facing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, “Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is.”

This linguistic pattern is not unfamiliar. Compare it to:

Mammy from Gone with the Wind: Miss Melly, this here's done broke her heart. But I didn't fetch you on Miss Scarlett's account. What that child got to stand, the good Lord give her strength to stand. It's Mr. Rhett I's worried about. He done lost his mind these last couple of days

Or Uncle Remus in Song of the South. “Oh, I knows. I knows. I’m just a worn-out ol’ man what don’t do nothin’ but tell stories. But they ain’t never done no harm to nobody.”

The same tropes are at play. Stilted, infantilising speech. These films, particularly Gone with the Wind and Song of the South, glorify the antebellum South by presenting enslaved characters as devoted, content, even protective of their oppressors.

This is where the argument that house-elves aren’t slaves but brownies falls down. If house-elves were truly just magical beings with their own culture, their speech wouldn’t so closely mimic the linguistic markers of servitude used in films that softened the horrors of slavery.

Also intended or not this is a racialised coding that was once used to uphold and justify the absolute abomination of slavery and we should be critical of it.

[chrissvalentine]

:: chris x actress!reader premiere

chris knew the drill of events like this by now. red carpet, photographers, loud music. he could probably walk with his eyes closed, honestly — but he made sure to keep his eyes on you, a protective hand on your waist as you were led down the carpet. you looked absolutely beautiful, hair and makeup done, a beautiful dress.

he was so proud of you.

it was your night, a night celebrating not only the whole cast and crew, but you specifically. his girl.

he watched as you smiled, waved, answered question and looked absolutely stunning infront of the camera.

eventually, you guys were ushered inside, finding your seats before the film played. you seemed so nervous, but so happy — you were practically bouncing in your seat, and chris chuckled. he was seated beside you, a hand now on your thigh out of habit.

chris beamed every time he saw you on the screen, or heard your voice. he squeezed your thigh, silently telling you how proud he was of you.

once the credits rolled, you were both led to a different room for snacks, drinks, and more socializing, and chris stayed by your side the entire time, an arm looped through yours.

your friends and other members of the cast and crew came up and congratulated you, and Chris was polite and charming with everyone, standing tall by your side with a proud gleam in his eye.

→ love, jess

🏷️: @submattenthusiast @pixxiies @breesturns @dominicfikeenthusiast @sophand4n4 @loveparqdise

[soulofapatrick]

All The Time In The World - Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: You got kidnapped and in the aftermath you need Hotch to erase it all

Words: 3.3K

Warnings: mentions of attempted r; hurt-comfort; ptsd; fluffy and angsty

Notes: I need to be stopped 🤣 I do plan on writing more Spencer but Hotch has my whole attention rn 🤣

Y/N’s POV

I stand under the cascading of water, the heat searing my skin as if it could burn away the memories etched into every fibre of my being. The events of the last few hours replay like a horror film in my mind, each scene more vivid than the last. 

I can still feel his hands, vile and invasive, creeping under my shirt, his putrid breath hot against my skin as he loomed over me with that twisted grin. The terror of those moments claws at my insides, threatening to consume me whole. But just as I thought I couldn’t fight him anymore, voice raw from screaming and back burned from the carpet below me as I fought to escape, my team burst through the door like avenging angels, their precise shots shattering the nightmare and saving me from the abyss. 

The water pounds against my skin, relentless, as if trying to wash away the stain of his touch. I scrub furiously, desperately, but the memory lingers, staining my skin with it’s foul residue. The sob claws it’s way up my throat as I scrub and scrub. I must have made more sound than I realised because Hotch’s gruff voice, filled with concern, pierces my cloud of panic. 

I manage only a small sound in response, my arms still wrapped protectively around myself, a feeble attempt to shield myself against the unseen horrors that haunt me. 

“Do you need anything?” His voice, usually firm and commanding, is now softened with empathy, a balm to my wounded soul. In that moment, I realise what I truly need. Without hesitation, I find the courage to voice my plea, a fragile whisper that hangs heavy in the air between us. 

“Join me.” I choke out, the words barely escaping my lips, carried by the trembling breath of desperation. I long for his presence, for the solid warmth of his body to chase away the chill of my fears. In him, I seek refuge from the darkness that threatens to consume me whole. I hear the hesitant shuffle of footsteps outside the shower curtain, a tentative response to my plea. And though the moment hangs in fragile uncertainty, I cling to the hope that he will hear the silent plea beneath my words, “Please, Aaron.” I whisper, the weight of my anguish heavy in the space between us, a silent prayer for him to bridge the divide and offer me solace in the midst of my despair. 

The bathroom fills with a heavy silence, broken only by the soft exhale that escapes Aaron’s lips. I hear the subtle rustle of fabric as his shirt hits the floor, followed by the metallic clang of his belt buckle hitting the tiles. Each sound sends jolt of panic coursing through my veins, a stark reminder of the nightmare I’ve just escaped. 

But then, like a lifeline cast in a storm, his arms wrap around me from behind, strong and steady, pulling me back from the edge of despair. I release a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding, the tension in my body melting away as his chest presses reassuringly against my back, a silent promise of safety in his embrace. 

His touch is gentle deliberate, as he silently pries my hands from where they cling desperately to my shoulders, nails biting into flesh in a futile attempt to anchor myself against the chaos within. I have to close my eyes against the onslaught of memories, tears slipping unbidden down my cheeks, each drop a testament to the agony that lingers beneath the surface. The scent of shampoo fills the air as Aaron reaches past me, his movements fluid and sure, retrieving the bottle provided by the hotel. 

I can’t help but tremble as his fingers thread through my hair, the sensation both soothing and agonising in its tenderness. His touch is a balm against the rawness of my wounds, a silent offering of solace in the world torn asunder by violent and fear. He works in silence, his hands moving with practiced ease, each stroke a silent prayer for healing, for redemption in the wake of tragedy. And though the tears flow freely, each drop a testament to the pain that will hold me captive for a long while, Aaron’s presence a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that he found me and saved me. 

But, even as he tends to me with such care, such tenderness, I can still feel the ghost of the UnSub’s touch lingering upon my skin, a stain that no amount of scrubbing can erase. It’s a thought that threatens to overwhelm me, to drown me in a sea of despair and self-loathing. 

As Aaron's hands tenderly cover mine, completing the ritual of washing away the remnants of terror that cling to my hair, I am consumed by a wave of overwhelming emotion. His touch is a lifeline in the darkness, a steady anchor in the storm raging within me. But even as he tends to me with such care, such tenderness, I can still feel the ghost of the UnSub's touch lingering upon my skin, a stain that no amount of scrubbing can erase. It's a thought that threatens to overwhelm me, to drown me in a sea of despair and self-loathing. 

And then, in the aftermath of my turmoil, Aaron’s arms encircle me, drawing me close as if to shield me from the pain that threatens to consume me whole. The weight of his presence is both a comfort and a burden, a reminder of the fragility of my own resolve in the face of unspeakable horror. 

My knees buckle beneath me, the weight of my grief too heavy to bear alone. I am lost in a tempest of sorrow, screaming sobs echoing against the tiled walls of the shower as Aaron cradles me in his embrace. Sobs so loud I’m sure the rest of the team can hear them from where they’re waiting on the other side of the bathroom wall, scattered across Aaron’s room. Aaron… He sinks to the floor with me, a silent promise that he will never let me fall, never let me drown in the darkness that threatens to engulf us both. 

In the sanctuary of his arms, I find release, the floodgates of my anguish opening wide as I surrender to the pain that has haunted me for so long. I’m adrift in a sea of memories, each wave crashing against the fragile shores of my sanity, threatening to pull me under. 

"It- I-" I choke on the words, my chest heaving with the weight of my sorrow, and yet Aaron waits patiently, his steady gaze a silent reassurance that I am not alone in my pain. And then, with a tenderness that takes my breath away, he presses a kiss to my wet hair, a silent vow to stand by me no matter the cost, "I can still feel him," the words are a whisper, barely audible above the rush of water, but they hang heavy in the air between us, a reminder of the scars that still linger beneath the surface.

“Do you trust me?” Aaron’s voice is a gentle murmur, a question whispered against the nape of my neck as his stubble brushes against my skin. I don’t speak, but nod, allowing him to pull me gently back to my feet. 

He turns me gently to face him, his russet eyes holding mine with a tenderness that belies the weight of the world we carry between us. There’s a gentlemanly grace in the way he looks at me, a silently acknowledgment of the wounds we both bear. And then, with a steadiness born of resolve, he reaches for the body wash, his fingers brushing against mine in a fleeting caress. 

I unfold my arms from around my was it, revealing the bruises and cuts that mar my skin, souvenirs of the darkness that still lingers within me. Aaron’s breath catches in his throat, a harsh exhale that echoes the pain written across his features. But there’s no hesitation in his touch as he picks up the shower sponge, his movements deliberate and unhurried, a silent promise of healing in the wake of devastation. 

He cleans me with a gentleness that borders on reverence, his hands tracing the contours of my body with a tenderness that speaks of love unspoken, of wounds too deep to fully comprehend. Each kiss he leaves upon my tingling skin is a testament to the intimacy we share, a silent vow to stand by me through the darkest of nights. 

But, even as the water prickles against our skin, a reminder of the heat that still burns within us, I find solace in the sanctuary of his embrace. His arms envelop me, a fortress against the storm raging outside, his face buried in my hair as if seeking refuge from the pain that threatens to tear us apart. 

I lean into his embrace, my head resting against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a lullaby in the chaos that surrounds us. In his arms, I feel small and fragile, but of so safe, cocooned in a love that knows no bounds. I want to hold onto this moment forever, to lose myself in the warmth of his touch, in the safety of his arms. But, reality intrudes, a harsh reminder of the world waiting beyond the confines of our sanctuary. 

“The girl?” My voice is a whisper against his chest, a question that hangs heavy in the air between us. He acknowledges it with a sound, a subtle shift in the air that speaks volumes of the burdens we both carry. And then, with a tenderness that pierces the silence like a knife, he steps away, turning off the water and pulling back the curtain. The moment is over, a fleeting glimpse of paradise in a world torn asunder by darkness. 

In the soft glow of the setting sun, Aaron stands like afire carved form marble, illuminated by the golden rays streaming through the window. His silhouette is a study in strength and face, even contour etched with the delicate touch of twilight. The light dances across his broad shoulders, casting shadows that play upon the sinewy muscles of his arms as he dries himself off, a vision of masculine allure bathed in the warmth of dusk. His dark hair, tousled and unruly, frames his face like a halo. His hazel eyes, molten gold in the fading light, fix upon me with a tenderness that steals my breath away, the corners crinkling with the ghost of a smile that sends my heart ablaze.

I can’t help but drink in the sight of him, from the proudest arch of his brow to the curve of his lips, each detail a testament to the beauty that lies within. My gaze lingers on the expanse of his muscled chest, the rise and fall to his breath a hypnotic rhythm that draws me in, until my eyes trace the line of his body, down past his happy trial to the heavy length settled between his thick thighs that has my eyes widening as he’s big. My mind going to what that would feel l-

“Eyes up here Princess,” his voice, low and commanding, pulls me from the reverie, sending shivers down my spine. It’s a command that I dare not disobey, though the temptation to linger upon the sight before me is almost unbearable. With a sheepish smile, I lift my gaze to meet his, the warmth in his eyes melting away the chill that lingers within, “Let me just get dressed, then I’ll give you a hand, okay?” His words are a  a gentle reassurance, a promise of solace in the tumultuous sea of uncertainty that threatens to engulf us both. I nod in silent acquiescence, my heart pounding in time with the rhythm of his footsteps as he crosses the room.

Each movement is deliberate, purposeful, as he slips back into his clothes, the fabric falling against his skin like a lover's caress. And as he draws nearer, his presence envelops me in a cocoon of warmth and safety, a sanctuary in the midst of chaos. Every touch is a symphony of tenderness, a silent declaration of love that transcends words. In his embrace, I find refuge from the storm that rages within, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatens to consume us whole. 

As Aaron kneels before me, his touch a gentle caress against the bruises that mar my skin, I’m overcome by a flood of emotions too powerful to name. Each stroke of his hand is a silent prayer for healing, a testament to the depth of his compassion in the wake of tragedy. His lips leave sweet kisses in the wake of his touch, a balm against the wounds that still linger beneath the surface. I watch as his eyes flutter for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability in the depths of his gaze, and in that fleeting moment, I see the depth of his love reflected back at me. 

With trembling hands, I cup his face in my palms, the warmth of his skin a welcome embrace against the chill that still lingers in the air. There is a tenderness in his touch, a reverence that speaks volumes of the bond that binds us together in the aftermath of despair. And then, with a courage born of desperation, I guide his face down, my heart pounding in my chest as our lips meet in a chaste kiss. It is a moment of vulnerability, of raw emotion laid bare in the quiet sanctuary of our shared grief.

As Aaron pulls away slightly, his eyes search my face with an intensity that takes my breath away. In the soft glow of the dimly lit room, I see a myriad of emotions flickering in the depths of his hazel eyes – love, longing, and a hint of vulnerability. 

His lips brush against mine once more, a silent question lingering in the space between us. And then, as if drawn by an irresistible force, he leans in again, his kiss infused with a newfound passion that ignites a fire within me. I feel the heat of his touch against my skin, the warmth of his breath mingling with mine as our lips meet in a tender embrace. There is a hunger in his kiss, a longing that mirrors my own, as we lose ourselves in the depths of our shared desire. 

But even as the intensity of our passion grows, the kiss remains gentle, tender, a silent affirmation of the love that binds us together. In the quiet sanctuary of our shared grief, we find solace in each other's arms, our hearts beating as one against the darkness that threatens to consume us whole.

“That’s enough Princess, you need your rest. We have all the time in the world for this.” Aaron breaks the kiss, albeit reluctantly to help me finish getting dressed as my heart jackhammers in my chest but this time not from fear but from anticipation. 

With his help, I slip into clean underwear and a pair of his oversized tracksuit bottoms, their warmth a comforting embrace against the chill that still lingers in the air. He tends to my hair with a care that speaks of love unspoken, his fingers deftly weaving it into a bun as if to shield me from the chaos that threatens to consume us both. I make a mental note to ask him where he learned such a skill, a reminder of the mysteries that still linger between us, waiting to be unraveled in the quiet moments between storms. 

And then, with a quiet resolve that belies the weight of our shared sorrow, he holds out his shirt from the day before, a silent offering of strength in the face of adversity. I meet his gaze, the unspoken bond between us a lifeline in the darkness that threatens to tear us apart. With trembling hands, I slip my arms through the fabric, wincing at the ache that still lingers beneath the surface. He helps me button it up, each touch a reassurance that I am not alone in this battle, that together, we can face whatever demons may come. And as he leads me towards the door, the rest of the team awaits, their concern a silent testament to the bonds that bind us together in the aftermath of tragedy. 

As Spencer's eyes meet mine, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirls within their depths, threatening to spill over in a torrent of tears. His words hang heavy in the air, suspended between us like a fragile thread on the verge of breaking. JJ's grip tightens on Spencer's arm, her own expression a mirror of his turmoil, while Emily's hand flies to her mouth in a silent gasp of shock and disbelief. 

Morgan's jaw clenches with a fierce determination, his gaze a steel blade slicing through the tension that hangs thick in the air. Rossi's expression is stoic, a mask of controlled fury that belies the storm raging beneath the surface. And yet, despite the turmoil that threatens to consume us all, they remain steadfast by my side, a silent testament to the bonds that bind us together in the face of adversity. 

I shift uncomfortably under the weight of their stares, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of Aaron's embrace. His arms are still wrapped around my waist, a shield against the storm that rages within and without. 

"I-I don't want to be alone tonight," I whisper, the words a tremulous plea that hangs in the air between us like a fragile thread. And in that moment, it's as if a switch is flipped, the rest of the team springing into action with a sense of urgency that borders on desperation.

Morgan and JJ move with purpose, their movements swift and sure as they push the two double beds together, creating a makeshift sanctuary amidst the chaos that surrounds us. The others disappear from the room, only to return moments later with armfuls of pillows and duvets, their hands a flurry of activity as they arrange them with meticulous care. 

With a courage born of desperation, I turn to JJ and Spencer, my voice a tremulous whisper in the stillness of the room. "Will you sleep with us tonight?" The words hang in the air, laden with unspoken emotion, a silent plea for solace in the midst of our shared grief. They nod in silent understanding, their expressions a mirror of my own turmoil. Rossi takes the couch without complaint, a silent sentinel in the night, while Emily and Morgan settle themselves on the floor amidst the pillows and duvets, their presence a silent reassurance in the darkness that threatens to consume us whole. 

I nestle my head against Aaron's chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a lullaby in the silence that surrounds us. Spencer's arm is thrown haphazardly across my waist, a silent vow to stand by me through the darkest of nights, while JJ's fingers brush against my hip in a gesture of comfort and support.

That’s how I fall asleep: My team, my family, surrounding me and the hope of something growing between me and Aaron in the future. Those words echoing in my mind. 

We have all the time in the world for this.

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@guacam011y @rosaliedepp @kajjaka @alexxavicry

[zep-zep-blog]

If I had a nickel for each time I made a oneshot based off a prompt from @timeslugarts I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened twice.🧍🏼‍♂️

Vox x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Cw: Talk of sex, mentions of feeling not good enough

The last red rose🌹

Reader feels like Vox is ashamed or embarrassed by their relationship and a drunk Valentino only solidifies those thoughts.

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You were Vox's prized diamond, a rose surrounded by thorns, the last unicorn in his eyes. You were kind, thoughtful, funny, tons of stuff the average sinner wasn't. He went to several lengths to make sure your beauty was safe and protected from the several news channels and overlords that were looking in. Unfortunately, his actions came off as him being ashamed of your relationship with you. It made you feel like you would never be enough to be seen with him in public.

Valentino had made another borderline porn film and Vox chose to go to the red carpet premiere with Velvette to support his friend and fellow overlord. You sat in your shared bed, wanting to stay in and not watch the smutty movie Val produced. The silk sheets rubbed comfortably against your skin as you settled into a more comfy position. Watching as the camera panned over other famous demons, hellborn, and overlords. The camera then focuses on Vox, bringing a subconscious smile to your face as you see him answer questions and look into the camera.

"Are you seeing anyone?" The journalist asks, shoving the mic into his face. Before he could answer a drunk Valentino takes it and giggles, "We are like rabbits." This made you sit up, shocked as he went on and on about different bedroom acts. This felt like a red, hot iron strike your heart. How dare he just let him speak like that when he knows you're watching. All for an image to sinners that he said were less important, less worthy of his time, less worthy of him.

His laugh was what broke you, that nonchalant chuckle he made when he tried to escape awkward situations. Warm tears started to roll, muffled sobs escaping your mouth as you covered it with your hand. You were angry. The man you loved, cherished, and planned on marrying one day just betrayed you after his actions made you think you were nothing more than some toy he could play house with.

When he comes home he's shit-faced drunk, removing his jacket and throwing it to the floor, expecting to cuddle with you. Unfortunately, he was only met with a cold bed and messy sheets, a clear sign you were here, but you were nowhere to be seen. This sobered him up a bit, he did everything to protect you, but he failed. That is until he found the note, at first he thought it was a ransom note or something, but it was your handwriting. He read the scribbled ink;

'I went somewhere else. As I know you're probably embarrassed by me, so I hope you're happy with Valentino'

This shook him to his core, he tried everything to keep you out of the public eye for your safety only to be the reason you left. He crumpled the note, cursing under his breath. He did this and now he has to fix it. He collected all the photos he had and wrote a script up for his nightly talk show.

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He addressed the journalist's question and Valentino's response. Stating that his relationship with Val was only friendly and platonic and that he was very much in love with someone else. Pictures of your first date, birthdays, holidays, even one of Vox sleeping faded in and out slowly on the screen as he talked about his genuine feelings and how he felt about your relationship, and his reasons to keep you hidden.

He talked about how your nose scrunched when you giggled and how you held his hand when you felt nervous.

"I fucked up. I tried so hard to keep you out of the camera that I pushed you away. I know words can't fix actions, but please come back to me so I can make things up to you. Please." He said while looking directly into the camera.

This was broadcasted all over hell, even on the radio in hopes you would hear it and hear it you did. You had went to Charlie for advice and help, sobbing on her couch when the broadcast came on. You were touched, hell genuinely thinking about fully forgiving him, but a small part of you was still angry. It took you to leave for him to wake up to address the rumors of his and Val's relationship that spread months ago and finally speak the truth about your role in his life. You ultimately decided to go back, apologizing for leaving. "Darling, don't apologize. If anyone should apologize, it should be me. I made you feel like nothing, but you're everything to me." He stated, hugging you tightly when you walked into his office.

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Cameras clicked as the limo rolled up, shouts of questions and excitement started up as the door opened and Vox got out, giving the cameras his signature smile before turning back and holding out his hand towards you. You grab his hand nervously, stepping out and giving a shy smile to the crowd. Finally, you both felt like you were his only thought.

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Carpal tunnel core <3 /j Hope yall enjoy (^^)