#got a few more in my inbox to do

[empresskaze]

Could we possibly see a ficlet of V trying to hide a horrible cold from J because he caught it from J? Like it's early on in their partnership and J had a small cold but is over it and suddenly V is. So sick. But he's embarrassed to tell J because he is already this frail wisp of a man and he doesn't want his partner to feel guilty for getting him this sick...

Ok so when I did the little poll for what people wanted next was Viktor trying to hide he's sick from Jayce. These two prompts I decided to combine since theyre very close and I can take parts from both. Hope you guys like it! (this is not beta'd and Im half asleep right now so Ill fix mistakes later)

~~~~

Any other day of the week, month, year, century, Viktor wouldn't have minded listening to Jayce yap about anything. Altough they hadn't been working together long, one thing Viktor learned fairly quickly was Jayce talked. A lot.

If it was about their work or science in general, Viktor would engage. But he realized Jayce would chat on basically any subject. Unless both were concentrating, Jayce always filled any silence with chatter. Viktor wondered if Jayce had a personal issue with quiet.

But today...

Maybe Jayce was making up for the past few days where he'd had a slight case of laryngitis, keeping his voice whisper quiet or simply writing notes to his partner.

Or maybe it was because Viktor now suffered from a head cold which he was positive he'd caught from Jayce (not that he'd told him) but his patience for listening to Jayce rattle on about anything other than their work was a thread.

"Jayce!" Viktor finally smacked his hand on the table interrupting whatever Jayce had been talking about as it had all become buzzing in his head, "What does this have..." His voice gave out forcing Viktor to clear it, "To do with your hypothesis?"

Jayce pivoted in his seat, "What do you mean, V? I explained that a few minutes ago. Hence why I changed the blueprints. See?" Getting he stood over Viktor pushing a set of papers in front of him. "I thought you looked at these?"

Viktor blinked then rubbed his head, "Yea right I did." He then dipped, stifling silently. As Jayce was pointing at a particular figure, Viktor doubted he'd noticed which was fine with him.

The day trudged on. Viktor desperately trying to keep his brain from filling with fog as he and Jayce worked on the next phase of hextech. He stifled quietly, left the talking to Jayce only give a hum or grunt in response, and hoped if he got home before midnight he'd get a few hours of sleep.

That part he should have known was impossible. Both of them left the lab late, Jayce walking with him until their paths diverged.

Inside, Viktor made it to the couch before collapsing, his cane falling to the floor. Sleep came fast but did not last. By roughly 4am Viktor was up due to the pressure in his head and the pain in his back. He could just return to the lab, he'd arrived early before but he lacked the strength to move farther then to the bed. Wrapped in a thin blanket, Viktor's breath hitched as volley of itchy sneezes followed. He was too exhausted to stifle them fully.

So much for sleeping off this cold.

****

Viktor stared at the clock, it was after 7am. Normally he was up and getting ready to head back to the lab. Jayce would usually follow closely behind, but Viktor was always there first. His heavy lidded eyes blinked slowly. How his head ached as did his throat, Viktor was sure he wouldn't be able to speak today.

Jayce couldn't know. More so Viktor didn't want him to know. What would his new partner think about him if a simple cold knocked him down this hard? No he'd get up, go in. There was work to do.

Getting up was easier said then done. Cold firmly in his head, his nose itched like mad so if he wasn't rubbing it, he was covering sneezes.

The cold walk to the lab aggravated his leg and made him sniffle constantly, putting him in an even worse mood.

It was almost 9am by the time he reached the lab, ready to diffuse any questions from Jayce on why he was late. However the door remained locked. Had he still arrived first. Unlocking it with one hand, cane hooked over his arm as he pinched a sneeze, Viktor pushed it open, peeking in.

Empty.

Viktor's shoulders unclenched as he exhaled a relieved sigh, that morphed into a small cough. Good no explanation needed.

However when Viktor removed his coat the chill of the empty lab hit him causing shivers to run through him. He didn't want to keep it on, it was too cumbersome for delicate mechanical work. Viktor hoped the building heat would click on soon as he pulled his stool over and began looking over the semantics he and Jayce drew up. It was difficult as his vision kept blurring or the persistent tickle made him sneeze again. But he kept at it if only out of spite to his cold.

Roughly an hour later he heard the door behind him open. Quickly he pocketed the handkerchief he'd been using to tend to his increasingly bothersome nose.

"Morning!" Jayce called, the hint of the after effects of his laryngitis showing in the higher pitch.

Viktor wanted to reply but the burning in his throat only allowed him to respond with a nod. He was engrossed in his work, Jayce wouldn't question it.

"You didn't make coffee?" Jayce raised an eyebrow as he looked at the empty pot.

Internally Viktor cursed. He was dead tired but the idea of the hot bitter liquid on his tender throat hadn't been what he'd wanted that morning.

Clearing his throat, Viktor summed all the voice he could, "Slipped my mind." He managed out while keeping his eyes on his work. Sniffling again, he glanced after to to see if Jayce had noticed but he was focused on the coffee pot.

"Here." A cup was set down next to him a few minutes later.

Viktor hummed a thanks as Jayce sat down in his chair.

Work began as they fell into their rhythm. Needing to keep rubbing his nose discreetly became difficult as the morning progressed. Anytime Jayce went out of his line of sight, Viktor brought out his handkerchief hoping with each rub the sensation of wanting to sneeze would lessen. Sadly it didn't.

Finally he couldn't hide it anymore. During a testing phase, Viktor's breath hitched too hard to ignore, his elbow coming up to cover it. The force surprised Viktor, knocking him back a bit. Without his cane which leaned against the table, his leg twinged, Viktor mistepped but managed to right his balance.

"V?" Immediately Jayce was beside him, hand on his shoulder giving it a squeeze. "You feeling alright?"

"Yes, fine. Just drafty in here." He lied, limping back over to the table.

"Oh here." Jayce two stepped over to his chair, removing his jacket off the back. "Put this on, it'll be big...sorry." A small blush crossed his face. "But it's not as heavy as our winter coats. It should help."

Viktor looked at the coat, then at his smiling partner who held it out. Shaking his head, he grabbed it, throwing it over his shoulders so his arms would still be free.

As the day continued on, Viktor became aware Jayce was watching him more often. So the effort to hide how awful he felt also ramped up. Viktor wanted to shed the coat to show he didn't need it but knew he'd begin shivering which would alert Jayce.

He wanted to work late again but his voice now shot which wasn't something he could hide easily. So when Jayce suggested they call it a night well before the sun had set, for once, he didn't argue.

Again Jayce walked with him until they're paths went different ways, though Viktor noticed he did not start down the walk to his own place until Viktor had once left his vision.

It wasn't until Viktor walked into his front room, throwing off his own coat that he realized he was still wearing Jayce's jacket from earlier. Clutching it in his hand, Viktor sighed, which made him cough. His head ached, his nose buzzed from congestion and the chilly air.

Before he could fully take in his situation, he inhaled sharply, the sneeze bending him at the waist. Giving his head a shake and his nose a thick sniffle, Viktor headed down to his bedroom. Exhaustion was too much, Viktor simple laid on the bed, not bothering to remove his uniform. Staring unfocused until he saw nothing, his breath rattling in his throat, he thought of how Jayce hadn't even mentioned the jacket when they walked.

****

His alarming ringing did nothing to help the pounding in his head and sinuses. Rolling onto his side as his back felt stiff, Viktor massaged his forehead. Everything hurt. Every muscle. Every joint. He was used to pain, it was part of his daily life. This pain was different. This was exhaustive pain. One he knew wouldn't go away by ignoring it.

His thoughts interrupted as he sneezed twice, covering his mouth with this blanket.

He could lay here. Not force himself up and to the lab. But then Jayce would wonder, why wasn't he there. Then Jayce might think he's not as interested, he's not a worthy partner, find someone new. The last thing Viktor wanted was to be an assistant again. No he'd make it. Whether it took all day, he'd make it to the lab. No reason to worry Jayce.

The wind whipped around him, blowing his hair in his eyes, chapping his nose and making the walk even worse then normal.

Viktor was relieved when he finally entered the doors of the main building, at least it was warmer in here. He'd barely taken two steps when his arm shot up against his nose as he stifled. Another followed, this one feel could feel in the back of his throat. Removing his handkerchief he blew his nose before entering, this time he knew Jayce was there as he could hear tinkering going on.

"Viktor!" Jayce immediately turned around when he heard the door open. "I thought you weren't going to come in today. It's nasty cold out. Trust me I even thought of staying home." He continued as Viktor hung up his coat and attempted a soft throat clear.

"Too much work." He rasped, as he sat on his stool. He brushed his hand across his nose trying to itch it as Jayce rambled on. Two silent stifles followed which shot pain through his skull. It was hard to concentrate on his work.

"V?" Jayce said a few minutes later.

"Mm?"

Viktor heard the sound of chair feet across the floor, "I gave you my jacket for a reason."

Viktor felt his face flush so he was determined to keep his eyes fixed on the papers in front of him. "Oh?"

He then felt the jacket over his frame again, keeping a bit of the draft at bay. "I...um..." Words couldn't form as he felt Jayce's warm hands on his shoulders.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" His partner asked sitting back down on the chair. Jayce leaned forward trying to catch Viktor's gaze.

Sniffling, Viktor finally shed the facade. "It wasn't bad...until yesterday afterno..no..." He turned finally letting a half stifle out as he couldn't bare more pain rocking his head.

"Bless you." Jayce's tone was so soft. "Why did you come in?"

Tucking his hands between his legs, Viktor glanced at Jayce then back down. He didn't want to admit his insecurity about Jayce finding a new, healthier, more able bodied, partner. Deep down he knew Jayce would never.

"We have work to do..." His voice gave out forcing a throat clear.

"No we don't, not today and not until you're better." Jayce stood up, walking over to where Viktor's coat hung. "You head on home. I'll go talk to Heimerdinger about an extension."

Viktor's head shot up which wasn't the best for him but his eyes were wide, "No Jayce, it's fine...I..." Viktor pushed himself up.

"You, my partner, will go home." Jayce smiled down at Viktor, putting the coat over his own jacket. "If you want, later on I'll come by. We can discuss some theories if you're up for it?" He patted Viktor's shoulder then walked past him to the door.

Opening it, he gave a gesture. "Let’s go, V."

Dumbfounded but moreso oddly impressed, Viktor stuck his arm through his coat, grabbed his cane and followed Jayce out.

[parisoonic]

trick or treat

You get a bad joke. What a treat! (trick??)

[halfusek]

should i reply to asks from 2019 or is that insane behavior

[alicornze7]

this is literally what I said out loud seeing them for the first time💔

"omg is that gangle from the hit show the amazing digita-"/j

what having 2 hyperfixations at once does to a mf

like, look at this

tell me I'm not the only one who sees it-

[paleo-vodka]

i gave up

[catgirlstalin]

stalin with palette #14 ? 👉👈

ofc :3 i love these colors for him

send me a communist figure + a color palette from this post and ill draw them for you

[hawnks]

Logging out for a while, love you miss you <3

[yingren]

at this point i think modern verse ren is just my outlet for bad jokes and doing whatever i want with him. there’s no reason for him to have a full horror themed sleeve tattoo. but also. a junji ito inspired one. the spiral. tomie. he adds more and more to it occasionally. loses a drunk bet and has to add something random / someone’s signature or another dumb thing to it.

[irhabiya]

Genuinely I think your trademark is hizuposting. I feel like everyday since I’ve followed you I see at least one #hizuposting on my dash it’s so cute actually. And also you love the Nile river

WAHHHHHH I LOVEEEEEE THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

[holopiloted]

there's not a day that goes by that i don't think of my little man —

[schoolhater]

answering a couple questions i got on this post since i realized ppl genuinely wanna know:

tl;dr:

israel lets very, very little aid get into gaza. even the UN can't get in as much as they want to. funding individual families, gazan led initiatives, and mutual aid collectives operating out of gaza ensures gazans can provide for themselves and pay for the extremely expensive aid that is available.

with all the civil infrastructure destroyed by israel, the situation on the ground has devolved into unrestricted capitalism, driving up the price of aid (that should be free!). this makes it more urgent for people to have funding for daily survival.

the post linked above has examples of how donating to individual families can help a lot. if you want to help more than one family at a time, there are many gazan-led initiatives focusing on rebuilding their infrastructure and distributing aid fairly that are worth donating to instead of large charities that already get the majority of donations.

as i mentioned in the last post: @/careforgaza on twitter is a nonprofit started by gazans, it's been endorsed by multiple palestinian journalists.

the sameer project is a collective organized by diaspora palestinians offering emergency shelter to gazans.

ele elna elak is a project aiming to bring water, food, shelter, etc. to gazans and has been promoted by bisan owda.

and the municipality of gaza itself is fundraising to rebuild water infrastructure.

all of these organizations are active inside gaza right now and are being run by gazans. if anyone knows of other gazan-led mutual aid projects, nonprofits or charities feel free to link them in the notes! hope this helped!

long answers under the cut!

if you wanna donate to a charity that's absolutely fine, but the thing is most charities (and even the UN!) are unable to make it into gaza in the first place, leaving aid rotting at the egyptian side of the border or subject to israeli settler attacks

not to mention, charities and nonprofits also maintain a paternalistic colonial relationship with the indigenous people they are trying to help, determining what aid they need for them instead of returning power to them and letting them make their own choices

i'm not here to say that one option is better than the other, just that they achieve different things and are equally legitimate. there's an attitude among people who question the legitimacy of these gofundme campaigns that somehow the people promoting them are telling them not to donate to charities. nobody is stopping you from donating to charities. we are just asking that you do not dehumanize the very real gazans in your inbox just because their method of asking for aid is more direct and risky.

unfortunately that's exactly what has happened. because israel destroyed all of gaza's more formalized infrastructure, it seems that organized crime and rampant inflation has taken its place. aid is supposed to be free, but in order to save for evacuation or the cost of living, people have started selling them at an inflated price. and aid that is truly free attracts intense, large crowds that are dangerous to navigate.

this was posted on abc a few days ago

it's pure, unrestrained capitalism. i've had multiple palestinians describe this situation to me confidence. that's why everything's so expensive now. why people have to rent out tiny plots of land for their tents to sit on, why my friend @siraj2024 still has to buy tarps to cover the broken windows of the overpriced bombed out apartment he rented, and why a bag of flour can cost a thousand bucks in the north.

even before israel closed and then bombed the rafah crossing, the egyptian hala travel agency was only allowing people to cross the border if they paid a hefty $5000 USD per adult / $2500 USD per child bribe. it denies doing this, but the hundreds of stories from palestinians say otherwise.

with regard to the economy, here in america we saw something similar happen in the wake of hurricane helene and milton. the podcaster margaret killjoy describes how she saw dual economies rise after asheville was fully cut off from the rest of the country - some people offered each other supplies for free in a sort of mutual aid honor system, and some people required payment when they lent supplies because they themselves needed to buy stuff for their families. these dual economies exist in gaza too. and this means they all still need money to survive.

[asexual-vampire]

+4 orgasms

Thank you 🥺🥺🥺

[amaranthinespirit]

wife!reader who keeps killing, and husband!simon riley who sees no wrong in it. prev next

the first time was purely accidental. a mere mishapt that ended in manslaughter. that's not to say the man didn't deserve it because of course he did—at least that's what simon said. but the bodies that followed? those were no accident.

simon didn't think you—his sweet missus—were capable of such crime. not because he thought less of you and your abilities, of course, but because you were just so sweet and pretty, it was jaw dropping. downright deceiving.

you kept luring men back to your precious home, steering clear of the new, pretty rug simon bought you after he had to burn the last one. and after you stabbed them, or axed them, or poisoned them—simon kept your options open after the first few—you'd clean up. yourself, anyway.

simon grumbled that one time when you tried to help, swatting you on the rear with his large hand before groping you and sending you off. so you learned to just leave the body for him to come home to and pretty yourself up for him to ravage you later.

it was a fair deal, after all. he cleans your messes, you pretty yourself and then he makes a mess of his own with you.

your own version of bonnie and clyde.

he never questioned you either. "can't do anythin' wrong in m'eyes." he would shrug whenever you asked, going back to shrugging the floorboards free of the metallic substance once again.

like he said, if you wanted someone dead, they were dead. sure, he'd twist his neck and nearly break it trying to get a good look at the poor bloke who dare crossed you—never a woman—but again, he'd shrug it off every time, muttering gruffly, "wot'vr the missus wants."

his lips are sealed when the police come by. killing is stressful enough, yeah?

"who keeps coming by?" your voice spoke softly from behind him. he had just shut the door after the police thanked him again and moved to the neighbor's house.

he grunts. "just salesmen."

"oh." you paused before frowning. "do I need to kill them too?"

simon's eyes twinkled, the corners of his eyes creasing with a smile under his mask—he hadn't got a chance to take it off yet—as he stood and stared at you with what you think is the most lovestruck expression you've ever seen. warring with the look he gave you on your wedding day.

"if tha's wot y'want."

he swears he's never been more in love with you.

if you guys have any ideas for this pairing, please send it in my inbox. more fics of these two are a must, and I love sharing ideas with you guys <3 much love

[angelfrombeneth]

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT, RIGHT? - N . CHAVEZ

Mature Content Ahead

Nicholas Chavez x F!Actress Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Summary: You and Nicholas are costars in a new show - Grotesqueire. When it is time to film a sex scene, you aren't ready; awkward tension takes over, but you know what they say; Practice makes perfect.

Note: I just want to say thank you so much for 1k followers and I hope you enjoy this one - and if you are new here, check out my other works. I have new stuff coming, feel free to request in my inbox for a specific character.

If you are looking for a part 2, please read this post as it explains my reasonings behind not making a part 2.

The filming for Grotesqueire has been underway for a few weeks now, this is your first big role in any media which you are extremely excited for. The show has an extremely interesting script, which is one of the reasons you wanted to put your all into your audition - which got you here.

"Y/N, I need you on set B in 5 minutes" Someone shouted from outside the trailer.

You sat up, taking your glasses off as you put them aside as you grabbed your contact case, quickly putting your contacts. You grab your veil, before exiting your trailer and walking towards the set. Crew preparing sets around you as you pass through different hallways, so much going on in one place but somehow you still felt at home.

"I was wondering where you were" You heard Nicholas laugh behind you as you turned to face him.

You laughed, turning to him as you smiled. Nicholas was your co-star playing a weirdly odd but kinky priest - and well, he was definitely lovely to look at.

"Nicholas, what are you doing?" The costume leader came scrambling over. "That isn't your costume for this scene- come!" She grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the set.

You laughed at Nicholas getting dragged away before walking upon the director and listening to your scene directions.

You sat upon your position on the set, the hairstylist coming to fit the veil upon your head properly, fixing your hair under it as you noticed Nicholas enter the set from the side of your view. You turn to look at him, your eye quirking up at his costume- well lack of costume.

"Nicholas why are you wearing just a towel?" You laughed.

"I have no idea- This is what Marissa gave me-" He spoke but was quickly cut off by the director on the megaphone.

"Alright! So can we get Talia on set please!"

You watched a girl walk up to you and Nicholas, smiling as she held a clipboard. "Y/N! Nicholas! I am very grateful to meet you, I am Talia your intimacy coordinator"

You blinked. You read the script you knew it was coming but you didnt realise it would be so early on. Nicholas shared a similar face to you.

"Now, don't worry, we will go over the main aspects and go over any boundaries the pair of you have" She smiled.

The next twenty minutes were spent with you, Nicholas and the intimacy coordinator. You were still shocked. It wasn't that you couldn't do it - Nicholas was attractive, and all, and the attraction for the scene was definitely there; it was just the awkwardness of it.

After talking Talia deemed you guys to be okay to proceed, the horn sounded round the studio as the pair of you prepared for your scene.

The tension loomed in the air as you stared at Nicholas from the doorway, reciting your lines.

"Can you dry my back sister... please" He hummed, passing a folded white towel over to you. You took it, walking behind him as he kneeled infront of the bed. You took the towel, slowly sliding it over his back full of gashes, cleaning the blood from his back as your finger ran over the bumps. You let your hand reset to his shoulder, softly gripping it as he hummed, it was what was scripted but it felt.. awkward.

"CUT!-" Shot through the studio as alarms sounded once more. Talia and the director came over, looking at you and Nicholas.

"Maybe lets take a break, you two talk through the scene and try and coordinate something. It feels.." The direction tapped his chin as he spoke.

"Awkward. It was very tense and not good tense" Talia sighed.

The pair of you nodded, walking out of the studio and towards the trailer as you groaned, flinging open the door as you tore the veil off your head yet again.

Nicholas sat on the couch looking up at you snickering as you groaned, sitting beside him, tossing your legs over his as you leaned back on the couch.

"I had no clue we were filming.. that today. It's just.. awkward" You looked at him, watching his body face yours completely as he held your full attention. The way his eyes stared into yours as you spoke.

"I mean if it makes you feel any better, I was pretty nervous. I didnt really know what to do and its just unfamilar i guess, its not a regular sex scene its gotta be.. kinky" He chuckled.

He made you feel comfortable. No pressure at all, the awkwardness was lifting bit by bit, showing the light under the fog.

"I mean what if we just.. you know" You blurted.

"If we just what?" Nicholas looked at you confused. "Fucked?"

"I mean you said it not me.." You looked around the room, trying to break the obvious tension as he laughed at your reaction. "I mean, for the scene right?" You smirked.

"Yeah for the scene." You sat up and looked at him as he spoke, crawling towards him slightly. You paused just before him. One of your hands gripping his thigh as the other held his shoulder.

The pair of you looked at each other for a brief moment, the balance of friends and coworkers about to be broken. As much as you wanted to chant in your head, 'it's for work, for work,' it wasn't, was it.

Your lips softly connected with his, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you in, sitting upon his lap, your legs wrapping and encasing him between. His lips mimicked your movement, slowly moving against yours, matching your pace and rhythm.

You pulled away briefly for a moment, looking at him. "This is work right..?" You chuckled.

"Definitely work" He smirked, pushing himself up, sending you up as he pulled apart your dress, the top clasps undoing as you kissed him forcefully. Your arms flew around his neck as he tugged the dress down slightly.

Your lips interlocked as you kissed each other hungrily, your hands combing through his locks as he slid all over your torso, pinching and grabbing at the flesh.

You both wouldn't admit it, but this was a long time coming. With the subtle flirting on and off set, you both were excited for the sex scene to finally be able to 'get a taste' as Nicholas said - but you didn't expect this.

You pulled away, gripping the waist of the dress as you dragged it up your body, pulling it up over your head as you dropped it to the floor, allowing yourself to fall back against the couch, your arms around his neck as you guided him ontop of you.

"Fuck-" Nicholas groaned, towering above you as he stared down as you adored in your black lace set as you stared up at him. "Is lingere supposed to be apart of the costume.. I mean stockings? Really? The dress covers it" His hand slid down your thigh to your calf, feeling the silky sheer material covering your bare skin.

"Personal touch" You smirked at him, your hands holding his shoulders as he licked his lips.

Nicholas's head turned to the side, kissing the wrist of your hand as it held his shoulder, taking the hand as he kissed up your arm slowly, gaining closer and closer.

You pulled him down towards you, rubbing his neck softly as you pecked his lips softly. "Nick- This is mad" You laughed out.

A smile covered his lips as he kissed your cheek, to your jaw and slowly down your neck, nipping occasionally. "Its practice... for work of course"

"The for work excuse has been.. overused~" You melted into his touch, your hands resting softly upon his hips above the towel that fixed upon his body. You tugged his hips closer, noticing his lips depart from your collarbone as he peered up at you.

He licked his lips, sitting back upon his knees as he stared down at you, that cheeky grin on his face. "Now, got to act suprised in the scene, I'll give you a little preview" He snickered.

You reached forward for his towel, tugging it as it puddled at his knees. You gawked for a moment, you didnt expect him to actually be pare naked under the towel - acting and all, you'd think he'd have some sort of cover.

"The director thought it would be more authentic to be completely naked under the towel.... For gravity purposes" He winked, his hands sliding down your waist, hooking his fingers through the sides of your underwear, slowly pulling them down your body.

"That's a terrible excuse" You laughed as you lifted your feet out of your underwear as he dropped them on the floor. You sat up, pushing his chest as he sat back on the couch.

"Calm down, cowgirl", He snickered, leaning back as he stared at you; one of his heads reached to rest upon your hip, the other clasped around himself as he gradually began to pump.

You reached back, unclasping your bra and sliding it off slowly as you threw it at him, the pair of you laughing. The sight of him leant back against the couch, hot and bothered as he stared at you while touching himself was all too much, it was making you hot and bothered.

"Fuck me, you are so hot Nicholas" you brought your hands to your face, covering your eyes as you let out a loud drawn out sigh.

"Genes.. what can I tell you" He smiled, as you leaned forward pecking his lips softly a few times. His grin seeping into the kiss as you stared at him, your noses touching eachother slightly.

You leaned in, capturing him in a soft kiss, instantly reciprocated as both his hands gripped your waist. You sat in his lap, softly grinding down against him - humming softly within the kiss at the friction.

You noticed his eagerness as his hips would occasionally buckle up against yours, one of his heads to your neck, gripping it softly as he pulled you closer - the pair of you intensely making out.

Your hands raked through his hair, tugging and stroking it as his hand tested with pressure around your neck as you hummed softly, lightly moaning within the kiss.

You pulled away abruptly, looking down as you took him into your hand as you slowly guided him into you as you let out a light and soft moan, which was sounded out by his own moan.

"Fuckkkk-" His head fell backwards as his hands fell upon your waist, guiding you slowly.

You looked down at him, your hands holding his shoulders as you slowly rutted your hips against his, grinding down against him. Watching his face twitch in pleasure as his breathing stuttered at each movement.

"You are so vocal" You laughed, pecking his lips softly as you rested your forehead against his, continuing to grind down against him, watching his body for every single twitched movement.

"Cant help it- Does it bother y-you.." He stared up at you, slightly breathless as he grinned, his eyes half lidded.

"Absolutely not.. turns me on if anything" You chuckled, kissing his cheek softly as you leaned down to nibble on his ear lobe as you continued to ride him.

Nicholas continued to groan in your ear, making you smirk as you speed up your movements, dropping your body weight down against him harshly as you bucked your hips back and forth. Cusses spewed from his lips as you continued to do so. 'Fuck' 'Shit' 'Holy Fuuuck-', continued to fall from his lips as you hummed softly, soft moans leaving yours.

You watched him intently as his eyes rolled back, his eyes staying hooded as he tried to steady his breathing. Smirking as you noticed the effect you had over him, especially how cocky he is normally.

Your movements slowed down as you panted softly, leaning against him for balance and he noticed. Nicholas picked you up, causing you to yelp momentarily as you pushed you up against a desk.

"Getting tired?" He smirked, pressing his hands against the wall behind you, as he thrusted harshly forward - causing you to gulp back a moan. Your fists clenching as you stared up at him.

"I thought-" You groaned, at each thrust he made, pressing your hands against his chest as you steadied your breathing.

"Mhm.. You thought wrong; I was definitely enjoying before, though.." He pecked your lips softly, leaning to your ear. "My turn now" He whispered.

His hands hooked under your thighs, lifting your lower body up slightly as he continued to thrust into you. You yelped out, shutting your eyes as you tried to control yourself from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, trying hard to not let go so soon. His lips harshly locked against your neck, as he sucked and bit down against the flesh.

"Nicholas-" You gasped out, moaning softly as your fingernails clawed down his back harshly.

"Shhhh" He cooed, as he licked up your neck, his hips continuing to slam against yours as the desk rocked below the pair of you.

"So fucking good- holy-" You gasped, staring at him as you laughed out slightly, his lips curling up into a smile as he continued to thrust, his hands holding your hips up just above the desk as you locked your legs around his waist tightly.

He dropped you harshly against the wood, placing a hand on your neck, kissing you roughly as you raced to reciprocate. His tongue halfway down your throat as your hands slid down his chest, your fingers feeling between the crevises of his sculpted chest. His free hand, cupping your breast as he squeezed it occasionally.

You hummed needingly into the kiss as his thumb pressed pressure against the front of your throat, causing you to tighten - which he felt. You could feel the smirk on his face as he kissed you, his tongue exploring your mouth as you helplessly allowed it.

You felt his whole hand clamp down on your neck with pressure. Your breath hitched for a moment at the sheer shock as he pulled away, your foreheads resting against one another, beads of sweat falling and mixing within each other as you gasped, staring into his eyes as he thrust deeply, holding himself within you.

"...Nick.." you croaked out as he stared at you, his eyes blown out with lust as he leaned in, biting your lip between his teeth as he held his eye contact with you, his thumb still pressed hard against the front of your throat.

He took his free hand, sliding his middle finger and index finger past your lips and into your mouth as you stared at him. You gave him no indication against it which caused his dick to twitch. He began to thrust against yet this time harder but slower. Your body rebounded each time, pushing yourself into the wall that you could've meshed into it. You sucked on his fingers, tugging his hair as you run your hand down his face, caressing it as you let out a guttural moan as he trusted once more.

"Good girl.. cum for me" He whispered, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and removing his hand from your neck as his face flew to yours, your lips instantly crashing upon one another as he gripped your hips, pulling you forward and roughly thrusting into you.

You moaned into his mouth, panting heavily as you drew closer and closer to your high. Your leg twitching as you threw your head back as his lips sucked and nipped at your neck as you screamed out loudly. Your hands clawing down his back as you came undone.

You were too dazed in your high, groaning and panting as Nicholas pulled out, groaning as he pumped himself watching as your whole body twitched.

Your legs flung closed as you stared at him, exhausted as he whined before he came on your thigh, whimpering and panting as he did so, his arm leant against the wall behind you as it supported his weight - his face mere centermeters away.

"Holy fuck-" You chuckled, out of breath as you stared at him.

His chest rose and fell as he stared up at you with hooded eyes. His finger swiping his cum off your thigh as he held it up to you.

You smirked, leaning forward and sucking it off his finger as you looked at him. He smiled at you before pushing himself off the wall as he stumbled back to the couch, laying back on it as he sighed - catching his breath.

"That was more of a workout than my actual workout sessions.. jesus Christ", Nicholas groaned, his arm resting up above him.

You pulled yourself off the desk, your legs slightly wobbly as you slowly approached him. You sat beside his head, lifting it and resting it against your thigh as you sighed.

"I think we've got the sex scene down, don't you.." You laughed, running your fingers through his hair.

"Oh, definitely" He smirked up at you.

It was safe to say, when the pair of you finally caught your breath you showered and got rechanged into your costumes. You had to cover up all the marks on your neck but for Nicholas it was fine, he was already marked by makeup so hopefully no one could tell the difference.

When the pair of you got to set, you definitely delivered the sex scene, going beyond the script. Hair pulling, finger sucking, tit grabbing, ass grabbing - the lot. Safe to say everyone was impressed.

"CUT! That was exactly what we needed, guys!" The director clapped as you and Nicholas stared at each other, panting slightly. You smirked, looking down at the tent under the towel Nicholas was wearing.

"Please don't move- it'll be so fucking embarrassing", Nicholas begged. You chuckled, patting his chest.

[sacredsorceress]

☆.°*Dating Bob Headcanons*°.☆

pairing: bob reynolds x f!reader word count: 1.3k a/n: just a few of my headcanons for what it would be like to be in a relationship with bob!! if you'd like to see more let me know! warnings: mention of therapy, addiction, memory loss- anything that would've been in thunderbolts*

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・inbox・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Ironically, I think Bob is a guy that is comfortable with what life hands him and outside going to Malaysia to try to find himself (or more drugs) he's resigned to accept whatever the universe throws at him- both good and bad. I don't think he'd be the type to join a dating app or feel a hole in the place of where a partner should be unless he began to fall for someone around him. Meaning, the two of you would have likely met in his past or you were a member of the New Avengers.

Unless you have the most enviable confidence on the planet, your friendship budding into more would have been a SLOWWWW burn.

As much as the team picks on Bob (with love), they would be very wary of you starting a relationship with him.

If you were on the team, once they got the inkling that you had feelings for one another, they would iterate to you a million times that you had to be sure about this. You would have to be serious about a future with him: no games. You breaking Bob's heart could send him into an episode that not only hurt him, but everyone else.

I think there are two scenarios to the start of your relationship: either you made the first move or he did- but it was only made possible by the reassurance of the team that you would actually say yes to him.

"Well I don't know guys," he'd argue , fiddling with his sleeve. "What if she doesn't-"

"She could not have been more obvious!" Yelena laughs.

"But-"

"Bob, you have a hot girl with super powers in love with you." John would say. "Do something about it or I will."

And obviously the idea of John making a move on you would be enough to propel him into confessing (a bit awkwardly) his feelings for you.

I think a lot of the first moves would be on you to initiate, because as much as he would want to kiss you and sleep in your bed (and more), he would be so afraid of you saying no or making you uncomfortable that he would hesitate.

King of Consent. If he did make the first move on you it would be because he asked you first. In the first few months of your relationship it's rare that he would touch you without asking.

Oh my god. I think if Bob had friends from his past that he still sometimes spoke to (now that he's clean and in a better mental state, I imagine him trying to patch up old wounds with good friends), he would ask you if it was okay if he told people you were together (as if you'd be embarrassed to be dating him)

You'd take a photo together and he would nervously ask if he could send it to this old friend from childhood and your heart would just swell.

"Of course, Bob. Tell him I say hi."

You would catch him smiling at the photo on his phone- a sweet closed mouth one- as he sent it to his friend.

Sent: Me and my girlfriend :)

Even if you're usually a people pleaser, when it comes to Bob, you'd have to become his biggest advocate because no one is more of a people pleaser than him. Recall when he was in the facility and offered to stay back and die for the convenience of everyone else? Yeah.

Sometimes Bob would ask you to come to his therapy appointments with him so you could fill in the gaps in his memory for his therapist.

You would also join some sessions at his behest because he wasn't always 100% transparent with his doctor and having you there encouraged him to be more honest (not only because you could tell when he was lying, but because he wanted to be better for you.)

Bob has an addictive personality so he doesn't drink anymore, but if you go out for the night, he'll ask Yelena to go with you just to make sure you're safe.

Yelena, who was going out with you anyway and would rather die than let you get hurt, would just pout.

"You are so. adorable." She'd sigh. "But yes. I will watch her."

NYC may get cold in the winter months, but you have a human heater in the form of Bob who would gladly take your freezing hands in yours, bring them to his lips and blow hot air on them to warm you up.

Speaking of the colder months, this man LOVES a hot cocoa. Bob doesn't love the crowds at festivals or markets because all the noises, people, touching can be overwhelming but he'll bear them with you if he can turn his brain off with a hot chocolate in hand and let you guide him.

He blushes bright red when you wipe his milk mustache away with your finger then pop it in your mouth.

When you giggle at his pink cheeks he blames it on the cold (sure bob).

He doesn't get jealous as much as he gets insecure. If Bob saw another man get touchy with you or you laugh at his jokes, he wouldn't be angry, but he would start questioning if he was good enough for you.

Although the sentry serum gave him a lean, muscular build, he would still compare himself to Bucky and Walker. Walker may have been an asshole, but Bucky was nice, successful, conventionally attractive and more stable than him. What did he bring to the table?

When you caught him second guessing himself, you'd be quick to snap him out of it: reminding him that there was no one else in the world for you besides him.

Now if you, got jealous- he'd be shocked.

A new intern would start working for Valentina and you could just see it in her eyes: she wanted him. It didn't matter that you were an Avenger yourself or that Bob would never in a million years be the type to cheat on you, you could feel the heat bubbling in your chest just threatening to boil to the surface.

When you butt into the conversation, placing a hand against his chest and introducing yourself as his girlfriend he didn't even know what to do. The girl, not keen enough to compete with an Avenger, took the hint and went on her way.

"What was that?" He'd ask.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Bob."

You'd just humph and go back to whatever it was you were doing and Bob would be left there with his face red, scratching the back of his neck knowing he's got the most amazing woman on the planet (Time Magazine's issue on the New Avengers made that a blatant fact) jealous over him.

His room is probably pretty bland. Because of his past and the most recent thing he did pre-experiment being back-packing, I imagine that he doesn't very have many things. Whether it be clothes, games, knickknacks- you name it- he probably started out with close to nothing and everything he has now has only been accumulated since joining the team.

Because of this, when you two share a bed it would probably be in your room. He likes the character of it and how it reflects your personality and interests. It makes him feel safe, loved, and homey in a way none of the things from his past ever could with the negative memories tied to them.

If you're not home, he'll text you updates about everything he's doing that day.

10:57: Good morning :)

11:31: Had a bagel for breakfast.

12:45: The fridge is making a weird sound.

3:22: I finished my book. There was a cliffhanger :0

4:10: Miss you :)

And that's just a little bit of the cute little life I think you'd have in a relationship with Bob :)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

hi!! first set of headcanons for our man bob!! if you're interested in more or have some other headcanons besides just general dating ones you'd like to see- my inbox is always open!! xx

[sceletaflores]

LAYING IT ALL ON THE LINE...

꩜ masterlist ꩜ update blog ꩜ inbox ꩜ taglist ꩜ ao3 ꩜

｡꩜°‧➵ PAIR: Joel Miller x fem!reader

｡꩜°‧➵ WC: 4.1k

｡꩜°‧➵ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, post-outbreak, hurt/comfort, joel's pov, general violence, minor character injury, jackson!joel, when he picks an unnecessary fight with you because that's all he knows, mentioned age gap, joel miller as a sad old man, joel miller experiences feelings, oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, clothed sex, unprotected sex, erectile dysfunction? we don't know what that means in this house because that old man can fuck like he's twenty AND his knees are made of steel (but only sometimes), porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

｡꩜°‧➵ @retrosabers SAYS: thinking about you almost dying on patrol and joel is FUMING, unable to convey just how worried and anxious it makes him. the only way he can even remotely conceptualize his feelings is through a very PASSIONATE rawdogging ♡

｡꩜°‧➵ NAT'S NOTE: everyone say thank you sid for this absolutely luxurious prompt...i'm waiting. i had so much fun with this! i love love love a good semi-angsty, emotionally constipated man having to come to terms with his buried slash repressed feelings in the gritty wake of a near-death experience, like that's my shit. hope y'all love it!

dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics!

joel miller realizes that love isn’t just a four letter word…

"Southeast perimeter’s clear. Heading west by the river bed."

“Wow, you’re finally gonna stop gettin’ us lost out here, sunshine?”

“Lost? Please, you cried when I found that shortcut through the cedar thicket.”

Joel listens to you and Tommy bicker over the radio, a forgotten cup of coffee going cold at his side. That's all he can do when you're out there—patrolling in the snow with a few others. He's not proud of how he just sits by like some anxious house wife, listening to the static between check-ins, but he can't make himself focus on anything other than the way your bright voice filters in and out.

He tries not to hover. Tries not to keep the handheld clutched like it's a goddamn lifeline. But he does, eyes glued to the thing like it might crack open and spill you out if he stares hard enough.

Joel's really not even supposed to be listening in like this. Maria's chewed him out more times than he can count each time she catches him hunched over an old radio that he's never bothered turning in, says it'll do him more harm than good worrying over it.

Besides, these channels aren't meant for civilians sitting on their asses at home. He knows that, because that's exactly what he is now—civilian adjacent. Half-retired.

Tommy jokes about it every once in a while, the way Joel's slowed down, the way his joints complain louder than they used to. A while back, he might've laughed too. Now, every little twinge of pain feels like a reminder of what he used to be.

Joel used to be the one they all looked to out on patrol. He could track better, shoot cleaner, navigate faster than most of the younger guys. That's not the case these days. His patrolling has slowed down over the past few years. He only goes out a few times every couple of months, if even that. 

He tells himself it’s by choice.

It’s not, not at all. He’s tired. His knees ache after long rides. His busted shoulder can’t handle the cold without locking up. Jackson’s got a whole rotation now, young joints, faster reflexes, eyes that don’t blur when the wind hits just right. So he doesn’t go out much anymore. Not unless the group is short. Not unless they really need him.

It makes sense. He knows it makes sense.

That doesn’t make it feel right. You out there, miles away in knee-deep snow with a rifle strapped to your back while he’s stuck here. Not out there. Not beside you.

Joel knows you can handle yourself—hell, you’ve proven that a dozen times over. You’re younger. Strong. Fast. Smart as a whip. You can shoot the cap off a beer bottle and you handle a knife better than most people your age. 

Knowing all that still doesn’t quiet the feeling of unease that eats away at him each time you strap on your gear and kiss him goodbye with a, See you later, Miller. Strolling out the door like it’s casual. Like it’s nothing.

There’s a kind of helpless fury in it. A sick twist in his gut every time he watches you ride out. Like he’s some retired goddamn hunting dog. Trusted to guard the porch, but not sharp enough to run with the pack anymore.

Joel adjusts the volume dial on the radio like it’ll make your voice stay longer.

Tommy’s laugh cuts through the speaker. “Didn’t cry. I got snow in my eye.”

“In July? Sure.”

It comes in grainy and light, full of that same teasing bite you always give Tommy—enough to make Joel’s jaw tighten with a quiet, helpless kind of fondness. He almost smiles, but it doesn’t reach past the tight pull in his chest. You’re still picking your way through territory where any tree line might be hiding something.

Joel shifts in his seat, elbows on the table, jaw clenched tight. He tells himself you’re fine. You always are. You have to be.

The channel goes still for a few beats. Then, a crack of static. Some muffled shuffling. And—

“Wait—something’s moving in the trees. Left side, just past the ridge.”

Your voice. Sharper now. Less teasing and pointedly quiet.

“Copy,” Tommy replies, suddenly serious. “Keep eyes on—”

A burst of noise. A flurry of panicked voices overlapping and shouts. The unmistakable sound of gunfire.

Then nothing.

Dead air.

Joel’s heart drops to his boots. “Tommy?” he barks into the receiver. “Come in. What the hell’s happening out there?”

When there’s no answer, Joel shoots to his feet. The chair scrapes across the floor harshly as he crosses the room in two large strides, fumbling for his jacket. “Tommy? Goddammit, someone answer me!”

Nothing.

Joel’s heart thuds violently against his ribcage as he stares at the little black box in his hand like it’s an omen. He feels it rush in all at once—panic, guilt, helpless rage curling cold and mean in his chest. His ears are ringing so loud he doesn’t hear the slam of the door behind him as he tears out of the house and into the cold air. 

Something happened. The group was compromised. You were compromised.

And he’s not there.

He should’ve been there.

Joel doesn’t remember the sprint to the stables. Doesn’t remember shouting at Maria when she tried to stop him at the gate. Doesn’t remember half the ride out. All he knows is that his hands won’t stop shaking around the reins and the bile in his throat tastes like ash—a sick, gnawing pit growing in his gut.

When he finds the group what feels like hours later, just as the sun starts to rise behind the ridgeline—you’re nowhere to be found. His eyes scan the way everyone’s spread out, some with minor injuries and the others patching them up. 

No sign of you.

Tommy plants himself in front of Joel just as he hauls himself off his horse. He doesn’t even feel the way his knees jolt as his feet hit the ground. 

“Where the hell is she?” he rasps, voice so rough it sounds like it’s been dragged through gravel. “Where, Tommy?”

Tommy’s hands are out in front of him like Joel’s a wild animal about to snap. He’s got blood on his hands, but no signs of stab wounds or bullet holes anywhere on him. It’s not his blood. Joel’s stomach turns viciously at the sight, at the thought of whose it might be.

“She’s fine,” Tommy says, eyes wide and placating. “Took a hit, it grazed her side. She wouldn’t fuckin’ stay down.”

Joel knows he won’t feel any relief until he sees you, alive and breathing with his own eyes. “Where.”

Tommy steps aside just before Joel nearly shoves past him, nodding his head toward a rock outcrop a ways away from everyone else.

You’re sitting closest to the makeshift fire, Jesse crouched beside you to clean the gash along your side. You’re bundled in someone else’s coat, hair mussed and blood soaked through your undershirt and spattered across your cheeks.

Visibly shaken. Color drained. Bloody. Alive.

Joel’s throat locks up when your eyes meet his. You give him the smallest, tired smile—like you're trying to reassure him. That look. That stupid, brave little tilt of your mouth like everything's okay even when you're the one bleeding through Tommy's jacket.

It makes something in his chest crack wide open.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t know what to say.

Doesn’t trust himself for it to be anything good.

Joel takes three shaky steps towards you before his knees give out. 

He drops hard into the snow. He doesn’t catch himself, doesn’t try. Just falls forward like a penitent man bowing at the altar of a God he doesn’t believe in. His breath comes in short, ragged bursts, eyes locked onto the red seeping through your shirt like it's the only color in the whole damn world.

There’s a beat where nobody moves. Jesse freezes, half-done wrapping gauze, and you’re just sitting there, wide-eyed and shaking like a leaf, lips parted like you’re trying to say something—but Joel’s already reaching for you.

He's on you in the next breath. Not rough, not like usual, not with that greedy, hungry touch he normally has after you come back from patrol. His hands are trembling when they find your face, tilting your chin up gently, his fingers brushing away wet blood and dirt.

Tommy glances away. Jesse too, both men busying themselves with helping the others. It feels too private, even out here in the open.

“Goddammit,” he chokes. “God—baby–”

His voice breaks on the last word. Breaks, something sharp and gutted and boyish, nothing like the hardened man who's grown to guard his emotions like they’re classified. Your hands hover uncertainty over his shoulders, the side of his face. You’re worried. He can see it plain as day, written in the wavering line of your mouth.

“Hey—hey, I’m okay,” you say, voice low and urgent. “I’m fine. Look at me, Joel, I’m fine. It just—it just grazed me, okay? I’m fine.”

You’re not fine.

You’re too pale. You’re stone-cold. Your blood is still tacky on your shirt, drying beneath his body's warmth.

Joel presses his forehead to yours and exhales like he’s been kept underwater, and you were the surface he’d been clawing to.

You whisper his name again, quieter this time, and he shushes you. “Don’t—don’t talk, just—let me—” His fingers press to the pulse point at your wrist like he still needs proof. “Let me feel you.”

You don’t say anything else.

You just hold him.

And Joel doesn’t cry. He can’t. Something won’t let him, but he stays there in the snow for a long time, holding you like a man who thought he’d never get the chance to again.

The ride back to Jackson is quiet.

You fell asleep half-way through, head lolling back against Joel’s shoulder as you both sat in the saddle, your body loose with exhaustion and the emergency pain meds Jesse had in his pack. Tommy rides ahead, checking the trail, but Joel barely looks up. He just holds the reins with one hand and holds you tighter with the other.

You’re taken to the infirmary the second everyone files through the gates. Joel sits by your bedside in stormy silence, hands curled into fists and resting on his knees, the only thing keeping him together.

You talk to the nurse on duty. You even joke with her, cracked voice and tired eyes like it’s all part of the routine. Like getting shot is just another part of the job. And Joel sits there while someone else wraps you in new bandages and checks your vitals.

It makes his blood boil.

All he can think about is the way your voice cut out on the radio. The way he didn’t know if you were dead or bleeding out in some field, alone. And now you’re laughing. Now you’re telling the nurse, “I’m fine really, just sore.” And it makes him want to tear the whole fucking clinic apart.

Joel doesn’t say a word until you're cleared to leave. 

Not on the short walk back to your house. Not when you’re walking through the door, cleaned up. Patched. Your shirt’s gone, replaced by his coat and a thermal blanket around your shoulders.

Not when you nudge his arm gently like you’re testing the waters. Not when you say his name soft, like it might keep him calm before you’re heading towards the bedroom.

It doesn’t.

The moment the door shuts behind him, Joel erupts.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish?”

You freeze in your spot halfway across the room, turning to face him.

Joel doesn’t move. Just stands there, fists clenched at his sides. His voice is low, shaking with barely concealed rage. “You gonna tell me why you thought playin’ saviour was worth bleedin’ out in the snow?”

You don’t say anything for a few beats, eyebrows drawn together in a hard frown as you look at him. “What was I supposed to do, Joel? Jesse was pinned, Tommy would’ve taken the hit. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice!” Joel grates, stepping towards you. “You could’ve picked you. You could’ve stayed the fuck down like Tommy told you to.”

“I was trying to keep your brother from getting shot in the head,” you snap, the tension finally striking a flint. “I made a judgment call.”

“You made a stupid call,” he spits, voice loud and blistering. “You don’t get to do that.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you repeat, your body growing stiff and tense.

“You shoulda fuckin’ stayed down.” Joel growls. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it—just rips his flannel off, tosses it hard at the wall.

You don’t flinch. Don’t even look away from him as his shirt falls and crumples into a heap on the floor. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snaps, turning to look at you again. His eyes are dark, fiery. “Jesus, you—do you even fuckin’ think sometimes? You were hit. You knew you were hit, and you kept goin’. You didn’t stop, didn’t stay down like you were told.”

He steps closer, eyes boring into yours, face twisted with something too furious to be rational. “You fuckin’ chose to be a goddamn hero, huh? Run into gunfire like it ain’t a fuckin’ death sentence? That it?”

He can see the second your expression changes, your own anger rearing its ugly head now, bitter and hot. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this about me being reckless when you know I was just trying to keep people alive. I did what I had to do.”

“No!” he snaps, pointing a finger at you, furious and stricken all at once. “What you had to do was come home. That’s it. That’s all.”

You blink at him, breath caught in your throat.

Joel can’t stop, all the emotions he’s been dealt over the past three hours finally boiling over and spilling through his lips before he can think twice about what he’s saying.

“You could’ve died,” he growls, pacing now, hands dragging through his hair roughly like he’s trying to rip the anger out of himself. “Two fuckin’ inches to the left and that bullet would’ve torn straight through your gut. You think you’d’ve made it to town in time for that? Huh?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he snarls, spinning on you, voice cracking. “It’s not fuckin’ fair. Nothin’ about this is. You go out there, and I sit at home waitin’ to see if today’s the day I lose you. That the last thing I heard is your voice cuttin’ out in the middle of a fuckin’ ambush. That’s what I got to live with now. That’s what I saw every time I closed my eyes on that ride back.”

You stand there, lost for words. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know you didn’t,” Joel says, suddenly quieter, throat thick. He swallows hard, looking down, shaking his head like he’s trying to get a grip. “But I still almost lost you. And I don’t—fuck—I don’t know what the hell I’d do if that ever—”

His voice cuts off, ragged. Then he’s in front of you again, cupping your face with both hands. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again,” he whispers fiercely. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that.”

“Joel…” You lean into him, slow. Cautious.

Joel meets you halfway.

His mouth is on yours in a heartbeat—hot and bruising and pathetically desperate. His big hands frame your face, thumbs dragging down your cheekbones as he licks a wet stripe over the plush seam of your lips.

You gasp into his mouth when he pushes the blanket off your shoulders, when his palms skate down your sides to grip your hips hard. Not too rough, not yet, but he’s holding you because he needs you rooted. Anchored. Here.

Joel kisses you like he’s still furious at you, like he hates how much he needs you, like he’s punishing you for making him feel so afraid. It’s not soft, all teeth and tongue as he devours you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When he pulls back, his mouth is wet with your spit, lips pink and swollen. “Need to taste you,” he mutters. “Need to feel you.”

Joel sinks to his knees before you can respond, breath huffing harshly against your stomach. His fingers tug your zipper down with frantic urgency, hooking his thumbs in your waistband to peel your pants down your legs in one swift motion.

There’s no teasing. No smugness. Just a heavy, sharp hunger carved into his face like stone as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing you to his greedy eyes. His hands slide under your thighs, lifting one over his shoulder as he brings his mouth to you like a man possessed.

The first drag of his tongue is slow. Reverent. Hot and wet as he parts the slick seam of your cunt with deliberate strokes that make your spine arch. He groans like your taste knocks the wind out of him, and then he latches on like he’s got a point to prove—to himself or you, he’s not sure. All he knows is that worshipping you is the only penance that could soothe the panic still clawing at his insides.

“Joel.” Your hands tangle in his hair, chin falling to your chest as you gaze down at him.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue relentless, nose pressed deep against you. You whimper, twisting his hair in your grip, hips twitching—Joel doesn’t let you go anywhere. He’s got you trapped, your body pinned with his mouth buried between your thighs like he plans to die there.

It’s filthy, obscene—the way he devours you. Lips slick, beard growing damper with each swirl of his tongue, eyes half-lidded but still trained on your own.

Your eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide and black as spilled ink. There’s sweat beaded on your brow, lips parted and swollen as you let out small huffs of air.

Your thighs are trembling. You're soaked, arching against him, whimpering his name with tears welling in your eyes. And still—still—he won’t let up. He needs this. Needs to make you fall apart. Needs to prove to himself you’re alive by the way your body sings under his touch.

Joel can’t stop. Not until your thighs shake and you’re moaning that you’re gonna come, gonna come, Joel, please—

And you do. You fall apart on his tongue with a broken sob, legs clenching tight around his ears, hips grinding down into his mouth in weak twitches and shudders. He growls and holds you still, licking you through every last tremor until your body goes limp and threatens to sink to the floor.

Joel doesn’t let you fall—he lowers you down gently, like you’re made of spun glass, even as his hands skirt over the hem of your shirt. When he pulls it up, revealing the bandages wound tight around your side, he pauses. His gaze lingers on the wound. Jaw clenched. Something soft and wrecked flickers in his eyes.

Your hand comes up to cup the side of his face, your thumb running over the scar across his temple so gently it has his heart throbbing in his chest. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “Still here.”

Joel takes your wrist in his hand, lowering it down enough to press it hard over his heart. “You feel that?” he breaths. “That hasn’t stopped hammerin’ since I heard your voice cut out.”

You nod slowly. Your fingers curl into his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Joel squeezes your wrist, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your forearm.

He climbs up over you, chest to chest—the jut of his cock where it tents the denim of his jeans grinds over the sensitive span of your cunt as he settles himself between your legs. He’s thick, heavy even through all the layers. 

Joel’s free hand snakes down his body, making quick work of his belt. He rips his zipper down, freeing his cock from the confines of his soaked boxers and letting it slap up against his stomach.

You moan at the sight of it—hard, straining, the tip a dusty red and wet with pre-come. Your legs widen unconsciously, thighs twitching on either side of Joel’s hips.

Joel takes himself in his hand, fist tight over the base of his cock as he runs himself through your puffy cunt, slicking the skin of his cock with your wetness. “Gonna fuck you,” he breathes, lining himself up between your legs. “Gonna feel you around me, baby, need it so damn bad.”

Joel slides in with one long, smooth stroke, your slick making it easy, and the groan he lets out sounds like pain. Like relief. Like he might lose his mind from the heat of you. Your breath hitches at the stretch, head lolling back against the hardwood as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he grits through his teeth, forehead pressed to yours, his hips grinding deeper as you cling to him. “You’re mine, baby. Always—always mine.”

You nod, panting, eyes glassy. “All yours,” you whisper. “Only yours, Joel.”

And then he moves.

Hard.

Desperate.

Unrelenting.

He fucks you like you’re the only thing tethering him to earth, like if he stops, he’ll unravel entirely. One arm hooks under your knee, pushing you open, deeper than before. His hips slap against yours, raw and hopelessly, but it’s not about getting off.

It’s about feeling you.

Every squeeze, every tremble, every gasp that leaves your mouth when he hits that perfect spot. 

Joel’s never felt like this before.

So angry.

So scared.

So in love.

He fucks you like he’s trying to imprint himself inside your body. His thrusts stitch you back to him, sealing you inside his chest so you can never leave. A mess of skin-on-skin and heat and slick as the two of you meet again and again and again.

“Could’ve lost you,” he growls against your throat. “Fuck, honey, I could’ve—Jesus—”

You wrap your arms around him. “You didn’t,” you whisper. “I’m here, Joel—I’m yours—”

He groans, hips stuttering, thrusts turning frantic. He can tell he’s close, that he’s been close since he sank to his knees in front of you.

“Say it again,” he pants, slamming into you with a low, wrecked noise. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp. “Always yours—fuck, Joel—”

You wrap your arms tighter around him, pulling him closer. Your nails dig into his skin through the thin layer of his undershirt, legs locking around his waist to keep him pressed against you like you’re scared he’ll let go.

Joel doesn’t let go. He’d never let go. Not even when you moan his name like a prayer, not even when your nails rake down his back, not even when you gasp out a warning, your voice thin and needy. “Joel, I—gonna—”

“I know, baby. I got you.” His hand snakes down between you, finding your clit and rubbing quick circles over it, desperate to feel you come. “Wanna feel you. Need to—fuck—need to feel you, sweetheart. Please.”

You shatter in his arms with a broken sob, clenching hard around him as your body jerks, overwhelmed and too raw to hide it. Joel feels you pulse around his cock, the tight warmth of your cunt milking him.

It’s too much, and he’s coming with a groan that sounds like it’s been clawed from his chest. He buries himself to the hilt, hips jerking with every pulse, breath catching in your ear. “Fuck, fuck—” he pants, voice hoarse, “—love you, I love you, I thought I lost you, baby, I can’t…”

You’re both trembling when it ends.

Joel holds you there for a long time, forehead resting against yours, still buried deep inside you. He still won’t let you go. Not yet.

Eventually, when he’s calmed, he pulls back just enough to look at you.

You expect that same look from earlier—rage, fear, guilt—but it’s not there. Just love. Just deep, aching relief.

“I can’t lose you,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t survive it.”

You reach up, trace the curve of his brow, the edge of his jaw. “You won’t have to,” you whisper.

Joel kisses you again. Softer this time. Sweeter. A delicate press of lips against lips. His fingers stroke your cheek, pulling back enough for his eyes to trace along your face. He follows the line of your brows, the shape of your nose, the soft curve of your lips.

He can’t feel anything other than love.

Gentle. Solid. Steady.

It’s only love.

mini nat's note: everyone please send good vibes for my hell sent ch*m final on monday...i literally need all the luck i can get. thank you so much for reading! mwah.