chrisbunnys

[chrisbunnys]

⌞highschoolsweetheart!dad!chris shaving down there for you⌝⸝⸝

warnings: established relationship, pregnancy, dad!chris au, fluff, lmk if i miss anything

word count: 378

"you look like you're about to cry."

"i might," you grumble, laying back dramatically on the edge of the bed, one hand splayed over your nine month pregnant stomach. "i can't even see it anymore. let alone shave it."

chris stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

"you're really stressing over this?"

"yes!" you groan, face already heating. "i feel gross. i just wanna be.. smooth. for when i give birth."

"you’re pregnant with twins. i think you're allowed to be a little… overgrown."

you glare.

he raises both hands like he’s surrendering, but he’s already walking closer.

"alright, alright," he murmurs. "c’mon. legs up. let me handle it."

your eyes go wide. “wait, you’re serious?”

he gives you a look like duh, grabbing the towel from the bathroom and tossing it onto the bed. “i’ve shaved my own beard for years. i think i can manage your-”

“don’t finish that sentence.”

he laughs. soft and boyish. the kind of laugh that makes your chest warm.

"sit back, baby. breathe. i got you."

you do as he says, propping yourself up with pillows as he kneels between your thighs. his hands are gentle, spreading your thighs, the other applying warm water, then carefully dragging the razor in slow, practiced strokes.

he hums while he works, some song you both like, off key but sweet. one you danced to at your senior prom. he’s focused, careful. checking in with you every few seconds.

“you good?”

“mhm.”

you can’t stop watching him. his brow slightly furrowed, lips pressed in concentration. it’s oddly intimate. loving. comforting in a way you didn’t know you needed.

when he finishes, he pats the skin dry with the towel, presses a featherlight kiss just above your pubic bone.

“perfect,” he says, looking up at you with a grin. “smooth as hell.”

you blink. “you’re so weird.”

“and you’re welcome, baby.” he smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. 

you laugh. full and real, even as you try to hide your face.

he climbs up beside you, hand resting over your stomach. “you know i’d do anything for you, right?”

you nod.

he leans in to kiss you, slow and and full of love.

────────────୨ৎ────────────

aurora's notes: i kinda hate this

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

to be added to my taglist, comment on this post!

[chrisbunnys]

⌇♡ dilf!matt getting "baby fever" .ᐟ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

ⓘ warnings:: smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), breeding kink, dirty talk, dacryphilia, overstimulation + more !

It had been a long weekend for the both of you. Your friend asked you and Matt to take care of her daughter while she was away with work, and because both of you adored kids, you agreed on the spot, even though the girl was a challenge.

Right before her mother had to come by and pick her daughter up, you held the small beast and whispered cute little promises and praises, which drew colorful giggles and gasps that made Matt's chest bloom with warmth. He watches you nuzzle your face in her honey-colored hair, drawing countless giggles from the little girl. He smiles at the sight, eyes lingering on the both of you and he can’t help but wonder what would be like if you held your baby. What other feelings would come out to the surface? Would he love you more- if that was even possible?

When you close the front door, kid handed back to her mother, you sigh deeply, walking towards Matt with slump shoulders. Your tired steps made Matt chuckle softly, but his arms are quick to envelop you in a warm hug. ❝You did so good, hon'❞ he says lowly, caressing your hair and kissing the crown of your head, assuring you that he's there, present and all yours.

You place your hands flat on his chest, playing with the button of his baby blue shirt almost teasingly. Looking up at him, you notice the small smile tugging at the corner of his pink lips, the kind of smile that made it irresistible for you to keep your mouth apart from his.

He leans in first, capturing your lips in a heart-warming kiss, his hands snaking around your waist and pulling you closer, the gesture swarming butterflies in your stomach. You kiss him back, hands tangling in his brown locs, relieved that you can finally put your hands on him without a pair of eyes watching you permanently.

When you pull back, brushing your nose with Matt's, he whines at the lack of warmth, like his mouth craved yours and he had no intention of staying separated from you now that you were all alone.

He closes the gap between you again with hungrier lips, tongue searching desperately for yours, but he whines in frustration when you pull back again. He's quick to complain, but you cut him off with a question that enthrills Matt instantly.

❝Don't you think we'd be great parents, hm?❞ you ask in a sultry voice, eyes darting from his lips to his eyes.

He smirks wickedly, thinking it's just a hypothetical question, but when you arch your body into his suggestively, you hardened nipples grazing Matt's chest through the thin materials, he immediately gets the idea.

❝You mean that?❞ he asks, excitement already settling in his whole system at only the mere thought of having a baby with you. You bite your lip and nod in agreement, nails trailing along his stubbly jaw. His mouth crashes on yours the second you nodded, hands gropping at your plushy ass, spanking it playfully while he sucked on your bottom lip, savoring your taste.

He picks you up with sharp and fast movements, not interrupting the kiss once as he carries you to the bedroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him. He lays you back on the bed carefully, but still eager with anticipation, excitement running through his veins, almost ripping off your silk pajamas. He kisses your neck hungrily, the warmth of his lips and tongue sending a rush of electricity right between your legs.

And like he knew the effect he had on you, his hand travels between your bodies, moving the skimpy material of your panties aside, sliding a finger along your slit, your arousal coating his fingers, drawing obscene, wet sounds from where his fingers wandered.

After he kisses you like he wants to devour your lips whole, he goes straight for your panties, sliding the down your legs. The cold air hits your cunt, making your hips squirm just slightly. He positions himself between your legs and, without any warning, he slams into you, a forceful thrust that draws a sharp whine from your throat, nails digging in Matt’s back. He moans as the pleasure wrapped in a delicious pain envelops him, moving his hips relatively slow, but his cock hit so deep, a small hill was bulging through your lower tummy, a sight that Matt adored.

He presses down on the outline of his thick cock, thumb circling your clit with precision. ❝Shit, hon’- you look so fucking good like this❞ he says as his hips started picking up their pace. His dick was literally drilling into your gummy walls, hitting your cervix and making your eyes bruise the back of your head. ❝All stuffed up by me❞ he rasps out, a gutural moan falling from his lips. ❝Gonna fuck a baby into you, ‘kay mama?❞

You moan in response, his words taking over your train of thoughts while he feisturized on the sight of your fucked out face.

He forces himself even deeper inside you, like he wanted you to remember the way his cock felt inside you, to let the feeling linger on your insides even when he wasn’t around. ❝Like this cock, hon’?❞ Matt asks you lowly as your back arches off the bed, tits pressed flush against his glistening chest. You moan in response, incapable to form a coherent response.

He thrust his hips forcefully, drawing a sharp gasp from your swollen lips. ❝I want words, baby. You like this cock? Or is my little desperate slut too fucked out to form words properly?❞

❝I do, Matt, I do❞ you whine, a sob making its way to your lips, nails forming red crescent moons on Matt’s back.

A loud cry erupts from your lips, tears prickling at your eyes as Matt fucks you full. He pulls back and his eyes run over your face, your tear-stained cheeks making his skin tickle with satisfaction. ❝You okay, baby?❞

You barely hear his words, but you manage to nod eagerly in response, looking up at him with lustful eyes, clearly enjoying his dominating demeneaour. He smirks wickedly at you before he covers your mouth with his, hand wandering over the bed sheet until he feels the lacy material of your panties tangled up with the rest of your clothes.

He breaks the kiss and stuffs your mouth with the skimpy material, the moan that fills his ears making his thick shaft twitch inside you.

❝I know, baby, I know❞ he coos almost soothingly, caressing your cheek and pressing small pecks on your nose.

His hand comes up to your neck, fingers snaking around it firmly, applying just the perfect amount of pressure, not enough to choke you, but definitely enough to make your sensitive skin burn with pleasure. Your soaked walls clench hard around his thick shaft, making your pussy flutter around him, drawing countless moans from his parted lips.

Your orgasm crashes over you, waves of pure pleasure combining deliciously with electric shocks. Matt’s movement stutter at the sudden sensation of your cunt leaking along his cock, a loud groan escaping his throat. Your own high triggers Matt’s, spilling his hot seed inside your little hole as he whispered filthy things in your ear, filling you up to the brim. ❝Mmgh- fuck, baby, you gonna be the prettiest mama❞ he says, kissing your ear lobe and nipping the skin.

He pulls out slowly and you try to sit up, thinking he was done with you, but he’s quick to grab you by your legs, spreading your thighs wide open, pinned to the mattress. ❝Nuh-uh, baby, we're not done until I say so❞

He licks a long stripe against your slit, tongue flattening against your sensitive bundle of nerves as you cry, the stimulation being both too much and still not enough. He comes up to your face, kissing you messily as he lined himself against your puffy cunt, your leg draped over his shoulder so he can have better access.

❝I'll make sure you'll be all swollen with me.❞ he says while his fingers wrap slowly around your neck, possessive and grounding. ❝You'll make me a daddy, and you'll my sweet baby mama❞

cherry’s kisses:: they….in fact…did not….have a baby 😔

(honey divider from @bernardsbendystraws <3)

🏷️: @sturniolofruitloop @sofisturns @courta13 @ivysturnss @matts-wife @loser41ifee @saintmentor @norahsturns @chrxsprettygirl @sturnspup @chrisissos3xy @lyingonchris @hamzahsn1gf @le4hsblog @sturniszn @matts-babytomatoes @iwishihadmatthewsturniolo

[chrisbunnys]

────── ⋮ ⌗ CHAIN . . . ⟢ FRESHLOVE.ᐟCHRIS ᵎᵎ

CONTENTS: smut no plot, unprotected p in v, slight??? spit-sharing, jaw grabbing,  + more . . . WC: 852

authors note: sorry this shits been eating me alive. #needthat.

chris’ cock pushes into you slowly, everything warm and messy between your thighs. he’s deep, every roll of his hips sending a fresh wave of heat through your stomach. your arms are limp beside your head, legs barely steady under the weight of him. 

one hand rests on your lower back, holding you there, the other curled tight around your waist. his grip is firm, like he needs it to stay focused. your pussy clenches around him without meaning to and he lets out a quiet breath.

“you feel that?” he murmurs, dragging his hips a little slower. “so fuckin’ wet… keep squeezin’ me like that, m’gonna lose it.”

your body shudders under him, fingers curling into the sheets, breath catching in your throat.

“i can’t help it,” you whisper, voice barely there. “feels too good.”

his laugh is quiet—barely a sound at all—but you can feel it against your spine,his hand glides up your back, palm warm where it settles between your shoulder blades, and then he starts moving a little faster. not rough, but enough to make your thighs tremble and the rhythm get sloppy between your legs.

your pussy’s soaked, creamy and messy, loud every time he fucks into you. he watches it—watches his cock disappear into you over and over, addicted to the way your cunt looks sucking him in.

“jesus, baby,” he breathes, dragging his thumb along the dip of your spine. “this fuckin’ pussy’s killin’ me.”

you moan pressing your face into the sheets. the pressure’s building again and he can feel it in the way your walls keep clenching around him, twitching like you’re getting close again.

and then he pulls out.

you gasp, the sudden emptiness making your cunt flutter, your hips instinctively pushing back into him like you’re trying to chase it—eyes still closed, too fucked out to think.

“chris—” you whine, voice thick and needy. “don’t—why’d you—”

“shhh,” he says gently, hand stroking over your ass before giving it a soft squeeze. “hold on, baby. jus‘ need to see your pretty face.”

you barely register the words before his hands are on your hips again, flipping you over with ease, guiding you onto your back. your legs fall open without hesitation, thighs shaking, and he moves between them like he’s starving for it.

his eyes flick up to yours and stay there, like he’s anchoring himself with the way you look currently.

“there she is,” he mutters, almost to himself. “look so fuckin’ perfect  like this.”

he grabs himself, fist wrapped around his cock, and guides the tip back to your pussy. he drags it through your folds a couple times, watching it catch on your clit before sliding it down to your entrance. you whimper the second he pushes in again and he moans with you, bottoming out with one long stroke.

“fuuuuuckkk,” he grits, breathing through it. “been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day.”

you’re already clenching around him again,  the stretch familiar but still overwhelming, your body arching into his as he starts to move again—deep, steady thrusts that make the chain around his neck swing forward, brushing over your chest, then lower.

you don’t notice it until the cold metal drags across your lip.

your mouth is already open, panting, and you catch it without thinking. bite down gently on the deer charm, lips curling around it.

and he freezes. cock buried in you, jaw tight, eyes locked on your mouth.

“oh you’re fuckin’ joking,” he mutters, breath gone. “you really just—”

his hips stutter, like his whole body short-circuits trying to keep up with what he’s seeing. your cunt pulsing around him, spit-slick lips wrapped around his fucking chain. it’s too much. he doesn’t move for a second, just stares like he’s trying to burn the image into his brain forever. where the fuck is his phone when he needs it?

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he says all low and hoarse, like the words rip out of his chest.

his hand comes up fast, curling tight around your jaw, holding it in place as he crashes his mouth to yours. his cock barely shifts inside you, grinding instead of thrusting, his whole focus on the way your lips move with his, the little deer pendant slipping between both of your mouths.

it knocks against your tongue, then hits his lip, and without even thinking he pulls it into his own mouth—sucks on it, groaning against your tongue, breath ragged through his nose.

your eyes flutter at the sound, his hips start moving again, you gasp into his mouth and he swallows it, still sucking on the charm, the metal cold and wet between both of your lips. it dangles down when he finally pulls back, spit-slick and heavy as it slides down your chest, catching at the curve of your breast before resting there, right where your heartbeat’s going wild.

“you fuckin’ kill me,” he mumbles against your mouth, his hand slips from your jaw to your throat, feeling the way you swallow hard under his palm. “look at you.”

authors note: meow meow meow meow.

[chrisbunnys]

── .✦ Colonel Xia

[chrisbunnys]

── .✦ Colonel Xia

[chrisbunnys]

Chris is so silly…

I need to suck his dick

HUHHH?!?!

[chrisbunnys]

𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘

in which . . . after a week apart, matt devours you: tongue deep, moaning into your pussy like he’s starving, chin soaked, bandana pulled tight.

You haven’t seen him in a week. He's been away filming for some YouTube video, a big one. You get it, but your body doesn't.

And it’s only been seven days, but your body already aches for him in that deep, pulse-heavy way that creeps up on you when you’re alone too long. When the door knocks, your heart leaps before you even check the peephole. You know it’s him.

Matt doesn’t wait for you to speak. As soon as the door cracks open, he’s on you—grabbing your face in both hands, mouth crashing against yours like he’s starved. You squeak against his lips, caught off guard, but he doesn’t slow down. His kiss is all teeth and tongue and low, needy growls. You giggle through it, overwhelmed.

❝Hi to you too,❞ you breathe. ❝Missed you,❞ he mumbles against your jaw, ❝Fuck, sweetheart. Been going crazy.❞ Before you can respond, he’s already lifting you, arms strong beneath your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Your book drops somewhere near the couch. He’s already kicking the door shut with his heel.

He tosses you onto the bed like you weigh nothing, following after you with a dark look in his eyes—like he’s about to ruin something soft. ❝C’mere, baby,❞ he breathes, crawling over your body, ❝I need to remind you what it feels like when I’m the one between your legs.❞

Your breath catches. There’s no teasing in his tone tonight. Just hunger. Matt kisses down your body slowly, reverently. His palms are warm and callused, trailing fire over your thighs as he settles between them like it’s where he belongs. He slides your shorts down with a lazy drag, mouthing at your hip like he missed the taste of your skin.

When he sees your panties soft, damp, barely covering your arousal, he groans low in his throat. He presses a hand between your legs, fingers stroking the thick wetness soaking through the cotton. ❝Fuck, baby… already so wet,❞ he murmurs, eyes dark, lips parted.

He nuzzles your centre through the fabric, then hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls them down with his teeth. His eyes stay on yours the entire time, bandanna slipping down his forehead as he tugs the damp material away and tosses it to the floor.

You whimper when he spreads you with his thumbs, blowing softly before letting his tongue dip low and flat against your pussy. The contact is instant heat, your body jolting. He moans—pornographic and deep—as he tastes you, his whole body responding to the way you clench around nothing.

His tongue works quickly, flicking over your aching clit before slipping down, fucking into you with wet, eager strokes. His chin glistens with your slick. One hand reaches up, thumb slipping into your mouth as he groans against you, your lips wrapping around it instinctively. ❝God, look at you,❞ he growls into your pussy, ❝sucking on my thumb like you were made for it.❞

Your fingers yank at his bandanna, pulling him tighter against you, hips lifting from the bed. He growls again, tongue fucking its way deeper, faster, slick sounds filling the room with each pass.

❝Fuck, Matt—oh my god—❞ you cry, voice wrecked, moaning loud and wild as he drags you toward the edge. You’re shaking. Writhing. Your clit is so swollen, so puffy and aching, and he doesn’t let up. If anything, he gets sloppier and hungrier. His hands are firm around your thighs, holding you open as he devours you like a man starved. You pull on his hair, breathing hard, eyes rolling as heat coils in your belly.

When you cum, it’s blinding. Euphoric. Your tight little hole clenches around the emptiness, desperate for more. Your cries are loud and broken, your body convulsing as waves of ecstasy roll through you. He doesn’t stop. He moans when you cum, his chin slick with your juices, tongue still lapping as you tremble beneath him. It’s worship. It’s filth. It’s everything.

Eventually, he crawls back up your body, kissing every inch, his lips sticky with you. He kisses your cheeks, your jaw, and your lips, groaning when you taste yourself on him. ❝That’s my good girl,❞ he whispers, brushing your damp hair from your forehead. ❝God, I missed that. Missed you.❞

You cling to him, still shaking, overwhelmed by the weight of him, the warmth of him, and the way he’s looking at you like you’re sacred. Matt buries his face in your neck and holds you there, your legs still parted around his waist, your breath hot between kisses. ❝Never go that long without me again,❞ he murmurs, voice hoarse. ❝I don’t fucking function right without your pussy.❞

You laugh, breathless. ❝Noted.❞ And you swear, as he cuddles you closer, fingers still idly stroking your thigh, that you’ve never felt so thoroughly loved.

𝐋𝐎𝐋𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒 . . .  so this is rushed and I think it's bad. clearly I've been thinking about matt in a bandana and pulling on it 😝 I fucking hate this

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 . . .  @chrepsi @ph3ebssturniolo @sturnsxbbyeilish @j21l91 @pip4444chris @mattslutt @sophand4n4 @mattscoquette @mi-co-uk @tezzzzzzzz

⌗ © sturniphone

[chrisbunnys]

⇢ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍’ 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓

you cheat on your bf with chris — i do not condone cheating!! ⚸ audio

you told yourself you were done.

done with the late night texts, the secrets, the guilt curling hot and heavy in your stomach every time your boyfriend’s name lit up your phone while your panties were stuffed in chris’s pocket. you said you were over it— over him — and you meant it, right up until tonight. right up until your voice found the comfort of his name again, your feet took you straight to his door, and your conscience, as always, got left behind in the hallway.

you knock once, your heart in your throat. he opens the door like he already knew you’d be there.

bare chest, sweats hanging low on his hips, sleepy grin twisting into something smug the second his eyes land on you. he doesn’t say anything at first, just leans against the frame, looking at you like a problem he loves having.

“couldn’t stay away, hm?” he finally mutters, voice low, a little rough, like he was half asleep before you got here. “was wonderin’ how long it’d take.”

you shift on your feet. “i didn’t mean to… i just…”

he tilts his head. “just what?”

you swallow hard. “just missed you.”

his eyes drop to the dress you’re wearing. short, tight, no bra, just enough to make his jaw set and his crotch twitch. he hums under his breath, tongue swiping the inside of his cheek.

“so much for feelin’ guilty,” he says, stepping back to let you in.

you hesitate. not because you’re unsure, but because it still feels like a sin to want him this bad. especially when someone else’s name is still saved next to yours in your phone.

but that doesn’t stop you. it never does. you step inside.

the door shuts behind you with a quiet click that sounds too final, like the lock slipping into place means something more than it should. he doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath.

his hands are on you instantly— one at your hip, the other sliding up your bare arm, over your collarbone, curling around your throat with just enough pressure to make your head tip back.

“you miss me that bad, baby?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear as he pulls you closer. “couldn’t go a full week without gettin’ stuffed full of my cock?”

“no,” you breathe, voice barely there. “need you.”

his fingers tighten.

“or did he not fuck you right again?” chris continues, like he’s trying to make you admit it. “poor baby. always runnin’ back to me for the real shit.”

“he doesn’t— he never—” you blink hard, dazed already. “he doesn’t fuck me like you do.”

he watches you squirm.

“god, you’re so fuckin’ easy for me,” he whispers. “come here in the middle of the night like a little whore with no self control. dress short, mouth shut. what were you expecting, hmm? you think i’m just gonna be nice to you now?”

he laughs, soft but mean, and you swear you feel it down your spine. “turn around.”

your body follows before your brain catches up. palms against the nearest wall, chest heaving, dress hiked up over your ass in one slow push of his hand. he steps in behind you, cock already hard through his sweats, rubbing against the thin lace of your panties with a lazy pressure that makes your knees buckle.

“fuck,” he groans. “already soaked. fuckin’ knew you missed me.”

“’s all for you, chris,” you whimper. “only for you.”

his hand slides down between your thighs, fingers dragging through your folds like he’s savoring it. the groan he lets out is filthy, possessive. he doesn’t bother pulling your panties off, just yanks them to the side and dips two fingers in your cunt like he owns it.

you gasp, hips jerking. “fuck— chris—”

“take it, baby,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper before pulling them out, letting them trail up your stomach, over your lips. “open.”

you part your lips for him, already gone. he pushes them in and you moan around them, tasting yourself, wet and messy.

“so sweet when you’re quiet like this,” he murmurs. “when you shut the fuck up and let me do what i want.”

you feel the heat of his cock nudging at your entrance, heavy, hard, unrelenting. he pushes in slow until he’s bottomed out, your walls clenching around him, already too tight, too full.

“jesus christ,” he hisses, one hand braced on your hip, the other sliding up to wrap around your throat again. “this pussy doesn’t feel guilty at all.”

his thrusts start slow, deep, controlled. you feel every inch of him stretch you open, feel him drag against spots that make you dizzy. he fucks like he’s trying to remind you of who you belong to.

“he doesn’t fuck you like this,” he mutters, speeding up, the slap of skin echoing through the room. “he doesn’t even know what you sound like when you’re getting ruined.”

you whimper, “i fuckin’ hate him.”

“nah, you just love me more.”

your hand claws at the wall. your legs shake. he presses his chest to your back, voice in your ear, filthy and low.

“gonna fill you up,” he growls. “gonna make you go home dripping my cum all over his fuckin’ sheets. maybe he’ll kiss you after. taste what you did. you like that?”

“yes,” you cry. “fuck, chris, yes.”

he laughs, breathless, cock throbbing inside you.

“fuckin’ slut,” he mutters. “say it. say you like it.”

“i like it,” you gasp. “i like cheating on him. i like it when it’s you.”

“that’s my girl.”

he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you back against him as he starts to fuck you harder, rougher. your moans turn to choked sobs, every thrust deep enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

“i own this pussy, understand? ’s all mine,” he hisses, fists tightening around your hair.

“yes, fuck, it’s all yours — i’m all yours—” you choke out.

“good fuckin’ girl.”

your eyes roll back. it’s too much. it’s perfect.

“you hear that?” he pants, one hand pressing over your mouth, the other sliding down to rub fast circles over your clit. “that’s the sound of your pussy takin’ my cock. that’s the sound he never gets to hear.”

suddenly, your body snaps, pleasure ripping through you like fire. you cum hard, walls fluttering around him, clenching down like you’re trying to keep him inside. chris groans, low and wrecked, and then he’s cumming too, hot, thick, deep, spilling into you with one last thrust that makes your whole body go limp.

he stays inside you. breathing heavy. chest to your back, hand still around your throat.

and then he says it, so quiet it barely registers.

“you’re never gonna stop comin’ back.”

you don’t say anything. you know he’s right.

a/n: thank you anon for the request! two fics in one day hellooo 😛 also ion fully fw the audio but it’s alr

find my masterlist here

🏷: @thicknick19 @sturnslutz @viviansturns @cayleeuhithinknott @briizysturn @devotedlyteenagemusic @drewswife @sturnsblogs @auttysturnz @mattspillowprincess @adoremattsturns @dolliraez @sturniolo1trips @sturns-mermaid @sophsturns @444sturns @adorechris @rriverscuomo @megameatymatt @izzylovesmatt @y2kstarr @owensbabygirl @courta13 @ribbonlovergirl @passionfruitchris @sophand4n4 @slvtf0rchr1s @matts-wife @slutformatt17 @mattsplaything @slut4chrisloads @ariheartsmatt @surprisecurlyfriess @drewswife @chrismoans

© zenithsturniolo

[chrisbunnys]

still breathless and falling part 1 | jesse x fem!reader

Summary: You and Jesse have been good friends for a long time. But there’s always been something between you two that you knew felt was more than just that. That doesn’t mean that you wouldn’t ever do anything about it…until tonight.

Warnings: EXPLICIT 18+ MINOR DNI. P in v, oral (f receiving) if you squint. Soft and passionate sex while intoxicated and high.

Note: Yall…I don’t know what happened but what I do know is that the minute I finished tlou s2 ep1, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jesse and this little story. Young Manzino is HOT with a capital H. I haven’t written a lot of x reader stuff here on tumblr in awhile, I’ve been mostly writing on Ao3 for my Twilight fic but I COULDNT STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS. I wrote this out last night chaotic on my phone and then fixed up today. I might be a little rusty on the x reader type of writing but nonetheless,I hope you enjoy!!

(P.s: we need more Jesse fics this time around! We didn’t get much when the game came out)

You promised yourself that this wouldn’t happen. Made a rule that he was off limits. Swore even that this was a line that you could never cross. But rules were meant to be broken and making promises you couldn’t keep were always the best kind.

You could blame it on the beer you drank; the brown bottles cold and empty littering at your feet. Could even throw the blame at the weed you smoked; A single blunt shared across cold chapped lips and even colder fingertips. But you both know the main reason— the only reason why this happened.

You both just couldn’t fucking help yourselves.

Sitting on that rock outside the apartment complex. The night young but the roads and walkways surprisingly bare and empty. The snow slowly hardening underneath your boots from the cold night temperature. You and Jesse are a foot apart. The last of the joint now fizzled out against the wet white slush.

Jesse had said something to you—a joke that you don’t even remember what about, but you do know you laughed loudly at it. Leaning against his shoulder, your head in the crook of his neck as you smiled lazily. Despite not remembering the words that left his mouth, you knew that it was funny enough to make the both of you laugh, you could still feel the rumble of him chuckling against your cheek.

You had lifted your head to tell him something but then realizing how close the two of you had gotten, the words had immediately erased from your mind. Eyes flickering down to Jesse’s lips, pink and slightly chapped from the cold before flickering back to his coffee brown eyes. His are still gazing down at your parted lips. A small yet deep noise leaves his throat as he watches you lick you them lightly.

And before you know it, his lips meet yours.

You could’ve stopped him. Could’ve told him that it wasn’t a good idea to open this can of worms. But the thing is, you didn’t want to. Instead, you took Jesse’s hand and led him back to the apartments and all the way up to his apartment door.

His kisses are firm, slightly frantic and yet full of passion. He kissed you like he needed this. Like he wanted this. Like he wanted you. His hands cupping the sides of your face as he kicks the door closed. You lock the door barely before he’s slowly walking you both into the middle of the studio. His lips, now warm and wet, never leaving yours as you move backwards. Jesse shrugs your jacket off your body, your fingers blindly searching for the plastic zipper against his chest. He’s grasping the button of your pants to undo and your findling with the buckle of his belt.

The clinking sound of metal and leather adds to the noises the two of you make. Soft moans and heavy breaths. The shuffling and shrugging of clothes and the missteps of walking backwards fill the room. You both are half clothed when you finally reach the bed. Managing to get the top half of Jesse’s clothes on the floor as well as the bottom half of yours. Jesse’s backing you further until your back is pressed against the cold sheets as he hovers on top of you. His lips never leave yours—almost as if he moves away from you, that he’ll wake up and it would all be a pitiful dream.

His tongue tastes sweet and earthy. Sucking on his teeth that are slightly cold from the beer and winter. You kiss each other for what maybe was a few minutes but felt like hours until you're grabbing at the top of his sweatshirt. Jesse pulls it off quickly before returning his lips back to you as if they were magnets. He shrugs off the tshirt that he wore under it, leaving his chest bare before you. You didn’t get the chance to admire it, to let your eyes linger at the naked skin you’ve seen many times; on days when the sun is hot and the lakes are warm but you never got to see so intimately like this. But that doesn’t stop your hands from getting their own exploration. Gliding up and down his back and grasping at the warm muscled skin of his arms.

His lips leave yours, causing a soft whimper to leave your mouth that quickly turns into a quiet gasp as Jesse kisses down your neck. His hands tug at your shirt, lifting it slightly in request that you immediately oblige to. As if he even needed to ask you, as if he didn’t own you from the minute his lips met yours outside on that rock.

“Fuuck.” Jesse mutters silently to himself as he kisses the tops of your breasts. His hands grabbing softly at the fabric of your bra, his thumb gliding against your covered nipples. His lips gradually go down to your stomach—leaving wet kisses against your heated skin until he trails down even lower. His big warm hands tracing down your skin, squeezing at anything and everything he can reach. You jolt at the kiss he presses at the center of your underwear. Shivering at the feeling of his breath hot against your center. You look down to see his eyes are closed as he kisses the inner parts of your thighs.

As if he just knows your body by heart already, he kisses your covered clit. You moan at the feeling and grasp at his hair as his tongue glides against the cotton. Your chest moves up and down frantically at the feeling and despite wanting more, despite wanting to know the feeling of his warm tongue and hot mouth wrapped around your clit—you need to know how he feels like inside you more.

You sit up, causing Jesse to stop immediately and look at your face for any signs of discomfort. But before he could even mutter out any words to you, you grab his face and kiss him sloppily and full of tongue.

“Just want you.” You whisper out to him, your hands grazing against his jeans. You rub right against the bulge that grew in size since you got in his apartment. Making him let out a pleasureful groan against your mouth as he lightly pushes your hands away to undress himself.

You unclasp your bra and fling it away (you’ll regret that later). Jesse’s down to his boxers now but he’s paused the rest of his undressing to watch the show of you. With the moonlight seeping through the window, you can see his pupils even more dilated than it was before. With a growing smirk you stand up and kiss his lips. Your hands grab his to place back on his boxers, urging him to continue. Lips gliding down to his neck as you lick a long stripe from his clavicle to the pressure point under his ear. Your smirk grows into an eazy dazed smile at the pained sound he makes.

His boxers are gone. You can feel the heat of him, knowing that he’s fully naked without even looking down. Jesse drags you back up to his lips as he quickly pulls your underwear down. You wiggle out of it and kick it to the side to worry about later (which you will).

You’re both nothing but skin and heat now. The kisses are deeper and more primal due to the skin to skin contact. His warmth engulfing your own. His smell of homemade cedar cologne and sweat. Jesse pushes gently until your back legs hit the bed and the both of you crawl to the center of it—lips hardly ever parting from one another, like fated lovers or twin flames finally meeting.

Your legs wrap around his frame as he towers over you. You can feel the tip of him at your slit, moaning each time he softly grinds against you. Never in your life would you have ever thought that you could feel Jesse like this. To see him so intimate and so hot against you.

“Please.”you cry out against his lips. Reaching down to the center of you both to grasp him. He huffs out a moan as you slide your thumb against the tip of him, dragging your hand up to suck the precum into your mouth. Jesse groans at the sight, his head resting in the crook of your shoulder as if you pained him. You can hear him panting heavily against your ear.

“You’re fucking killing me.”

You smile softly as you reach back down to line him up at your entrance. He moves his head back so his eyes can meet your own. Looking down briefly at the sight, he reaches for your hand that’s wrapped around him. He looks you in the eye as he kisses your palm tenderly before placing it against his face. Your thumb rubs softly against his cheek tugging at his bottom lip. Jesse kisses your thumb as he lines himself up against you and pushes in slowly.

The both of you moan at the feeling. The thick push of him going inside you and the tight pull you have against him already. Your head falls back and your back arches slightly. Jesse’s forehead falls on your shoulder groaning against your skin.

“Keep going.” You say—you plead breathily and he follows your command without hesitation. Pushing himself deeper into you, to the hilt. Your eyes meet his dark brown ones. Pupils blown out and the scalara’s red from the weed and you're sure your eyes look the same—but you can’t help but to think to yourself how pretty he looks. How he looks at you so delicately yet full of desire and something else you can’t quite put your finger on.

“You’re so beautiful.” Jesse tells you quietly, his lips moving against your thumb. And despite being under the influence and intoxicated, you know deep in your heart that he means every word.

You kiss him as a thank you. You kiss him as a way to tell him that he is the kindest person you have ever met; that you have never seen someone as beautiful and as precious as him. That no matter what, he will always have you whether it’s as friends or as lovers. You’ll take anything and everything that he can give you and you could die happily. But no more words are spoken that night besides the acknowledgements of pure bliss that leave you both panting heavy and sweaty. Sleep calls to you both before you can even get a chance to clean yourselves off. His spend once laid on your stomach dribbles down to your thighs and the sheets, drying there.

In the morning you wake up with an arm wrapped around your waist and terrible headache. Your eyes widen at the familiarity of the room and the smell against the pillow. You don’t need to turn around to now know it’s Jesse snoring softly behind you. That it’s Jesse who you spent the night with. Your memories from last night that evade you tell you that.

With intense concentration, you manage to get out of Jesse’s arms without waking him. From the long hour patrols you’ve partnered together on, you know that he’s a light sleeper. Tip toeing through the studio you search for your clothes. Freaking out and annoyed with yourself on why for the life of you did you fling your bra and underwear around the room like a frisbee. Now, the two most delicate and needed items of clothing are nowhere to be found. Opting to just leave them for another day (because you know Jesse will remember what happened last night; so there’s no need to grab everything as if the memory will disappear along with it), you throw the rest of your clothes on and zip up your jacket to your neck for support.

You look over at Jesse’s sleeping form one last time. His arm still resting across where you once laid, you turn around with a heavy heart and leave the studio.

What makes this walk of shame to your apartment even worse is that Dina is standing a few feet away from you, as if she was walking up to knock on Jesse's apartment door. You both freeze at the other’s presence. Dina looks down at your attire and you disheveled hair and puts two and two together. Before you can see any other reaction come out of her, you’re turning the other way and taking the long way back up to your apartment.

[chrisbunnys]

off limits ch3 | jesse x miller!daughter reader

pairing: jesse x miller!daughter reader

word count: 3k+

warnings: canon events, stolen dialogue from the show

ch1 | ch2

The trotting of the horses hooves dragging across the snow and slight howling of the wind fills the comfortable silence between niece and uncle. You and Joel have been travelling for a few hours, making the necessary stops along the way to your final check in at the old copper mine.

“So you and Jesse?” Joel asks so nonchalantly, almost like he was just making a passing comment about the weather.

“What?” You cough, inhaling the crisp air too sharply. Your throat tightens as you choke on nothing. Subtlety has never been your strong suit.

“I know my eyes sight is goin’, but I ain’t blind or stupid, baby girl. I see the way that boy looks at you.” Joel barely glances at you, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. Partly because of the approaching storm but mainly because of that infamous Miller trait you all share: the incapability of outwardly showing your emotions.

“Joel-” You’re already preparing to lie, to bury your feelings, ringing true to your shared Miller genes.

“I ain’t sayin’ it’s a bad thing, it’s your life. Jesse’s a good kid. Reliable, respectful. I’m just saying to be careful.”

“You won’t tell Dad?” you ask, almost timidly despite your twenty-two years of age. The question confirming what Joel already knows to be true.

“He won’t hear it from me,” he huffs a soft chuckle, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “You know he just wants what’s best for you, wants to keep you safe. Ain’t nobody good enough for you, baby girl.”

You look away, blinking away the sudden sting behind your eyes, if Joel asks about it later, you’ll blame it on the wind. “Thanks Joel.” You can’t help the small smile that breaks through.

“But if he hurts you,” Joel adds, his voice steady and eerily calm. “Your dad will be the least of his problems, you hear?” While Joel has aged the last few years in Jackson, you know what exactly he’s capable of. Especially when it comes to the people he loves. Tommy, Ellie and you.

“I’ll let him know.” You nod, your voice full of affection.

The change is the weather is almost immediate. The wind shifts, the cold cutting through your multiple layers, straight through to your bones. The snow around you starts falling thick and heavy, the visibility in front of you low. “Joel!” Your head flicks around, searching, suddenly alone in the snow storm.

The silhouette of your uncle barely becomes visible, almost camouflaging into the white background. The storm has picked up faster than Jesse expected.

“Come on, kiddo! We need to pick it up and get to the mine! Stay with me!” Joel rides into view, coming closer to you, his voice barely heard over the howling wind.

You tighten your freezing hands around the reins, squeeze your thighs, your horse surges forward on your command, galloping after Joel’s into the storm. The biting wind feels like cold knives slashing across your skin, it’s an uncomfortable sensation until suddenly, nothing. Your face feels unpleasantly numb. Not a good sign.

And then, in what feels like an eternity but in reality is only a few minutes, the shape of the metal structure appears like a mirage through the white haze.

Joel swings down from his saddle, his boots hitting the snow heavy. He wrenches the door to the mine open, its rusted hinges groaning in protest, the mine providing you with sanctuary from the blizzard. Joel moves closer to you before pausing, turning to assess your surroundings.

“It’s quiet… too quiet,” Joel pauses, listening, waiting.

Your fingers tremble as you pull the scarf tighter around your mouth and nose, your teeth chattering uncontrollably, the hypothermia settling into your body.

Despite the roaring wind that rages on outside, there’s an eerie feeling that settles uncomfortably in your chest.

You move to dismount from your horse, only stopping when Joel holds his hand up. A faint noise can be heard, not the howling of the wind or the groans of the metal structure. It’s different. For whatever reason, it’s not the cold that sends a shiver through you.

“What the fuck is that noise?” What initially started as a low rumble crescendos into a thunderous roar that echoes off the walls.

“Stay here!” Joel bolts up the rickety stairs, two at a time. “Joel!” You call after your uncle, the panic evident in your voice. He doesn’t spare a glance back, disappearing from your eye line.

“Fuck, what the fuck are we going to do? What would Jesse do?” you whisper while you try to centre yourself, so many thoughts swirling around in your head.

Crack! Crack! The distinct pop of gunfire brings you out of your spiral. A beat of silence. A door above opens, before quickly slamming shut, a latch locking.

“Joel?!” Despite your tremors, you force your fingers to close around the handle of your pistol attached to your thigh. Just hoping when it matters, you’ll be quick to the draw. “Up here! I’m coming!” The sound of your uncle’s voice only brings you relief for a moment. Joel hurries back down the stairs but he’s not alone. A young woman who can’t be older than yourself trails behind him, an indescribable expression on her face.

“Infected. Hundreds of ‘em.” Joel recounts the ominous scene from above.

A sudden slam pounds against the mine’s outer walls. Then another. Then dozens.

“Fuck, what do we do? We’ll never make it back to Jackson. If we stay in here, we die. We go out there, we die.” The words almost tripping out of your mouth, there’s no time to waste.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! I’m thinking!” Joel snaps, his hand anxiously moving through his hair.

“The lodge!” The young woman shouts over you, over the banging on the walls. “My friends and I are held up at the lodge, half way up the mountain! If the infected are down here, maybe there aren’t any more up there.” In theory, it seems logical what this mysterious woman suggests.

“Fuck it, it’s all we got. Are your friends armed?” Joel doesn’t hesitate, but anywhere but here is safer at this point.

“Yeah.” She nods.

“Joel…” You do hesitate, your instinct is telling you not to trust this person. Something feels wrong about her. Why was she out here by herself? Coincidentally near your post? Who is she? Who are they?

Crash. There’s no time to question his decision, the doors to the mine finally give way. Dozens of infected swarm along the walkway above, the first wave of mutated soldiers clawing over each other in their haste to reach the lower floor, to reach the three of you. “Oh my god,” you whisper, your horse stomping its hooves in anticipation for a quick getaway.

“Good, we’re going to need ‘em. Get on!” Joel remounts his horse, yanking the young woman onto his saddle behind him.

“Get goin’ kiddo and don’t look back.” His eyes catch yours for a second, and you can see the concealed panic behind his brown eyes. You share a brief nod, so many words unsaid.

But there’s no more time to hesitate, the three of you burst back into the freezing blizzard once more.

*

If you weren’t suffering from hypothermia before, you definitely are now. Your body trembles violently with each passing second. Somehow, by the grace of God, you and Joel have successfully managed to outrun the hundreds of infected.

However, you both can only watch on in horror. The infected have redirected, no longer chasing you, but stampeding down the mountain, towards Jackson. Towards your family.

“We have to go back. I have to go back.” You shout to your uncle against the wind, the panic evident in your hoarse voice.

Joel and the young woman ride up beside you, gripping your reins before you can bolt. His eyes meet yours, laced with the same fear that’s crushing against your chest. “We’ll get her friends and we’ll go,” he says, voice steady. “I promise.”

*

It doesn’t take much longer for the three of you to ride to the top of the mountain, the lodge coming into view, and who you can only assume are the young woman’s group of friends, calling her name out in the howling wind. “Abby!”

Abby deftly removes herself from Joel’s saddle, only to be quickly swaddled in a young man’s embrace, the unknown group leading the way inside the lodge. “Let’s get inside!”

“Come on, baby girl.” Joel removes his jacket and wraps it tightly around your trembling frame, there’s an urgency in his movements as you enter the warm room. Your whole body shakes uncontrollably now, your full lips blue, teeth chattering too hard to speak.

From the frost covered windows, you catch a glimpse of the tall flames licking at Jackson’s gate, the first line of defence against a horde of infected or raiders that dare to try to attack. “D-dad…” you mumble, struggling to form the word.

“I can look after her?” A softly spoken woman offers, before slowly easing you out of Joel’s arms, inching you towards the warm fireplace. “W-who are you?” you stutter, eyes focusing in on the emblem stitched on her backpack. A wolf’s head baring its teeth and three bold letters. W. L. F.

Military?

“I’m Mel, I’m a doctor,” her tone practised, concise, like she’s done this a thousand times before. “We’re going to raise your body temperature up slowly, okay?” You nod weakly at her words.

You barely acknowledge when Abby introduces you to the room, before taking time to personally introduce each of her friends. Owen, Manny, Nora and Mel.

“And him?” She points to your unsuspecting uncle, his gaze firmly focused down on the town below. “His name is Joel.” The atmosphere in the room completely shifts. Guns are drawn, aimed at him, before you can even dare to move a muscle. You move to reach for your gun, but you’re too slow, too cold, too exhausted.

You can only flinch as the woman who’d been tending to you is shoved away from you. You don’t even have time to defend yourself before the icy cold metal of a gun barrel is pressed hard against the side of your head.

“Don’t fucking move.” A manly voice whispers in your ear. The woman introduced as Nora comes closer to you, crouching down for a moment to remove your gun from your thigh holster.

“She has nothin’-“ Joel steps forward on instinct, moving closer to you, but the sound of a safety switch flicked off from the rifle aimed at him, stalls his movement. “You wanna rob us? Fine, take what you want,” Joel says, voice low, cautious, his hands raised in the air.

“Do we look like raiders to you?” Abby asks, a cold edge to her voice. “No.” Joel calmly responds.

“What do we look like?” “Military… Fireflies?” The expression that befalls on your uncle’s face is one full of regret.

“Used to be, haven't you heard?” She pauses, a cold joking edge in her tone of voice. “There are no more Fireflies. They're all gone.” You’re clearly missing an important piece to the story. Something vital. The cause of all this.

Fireflies? You glance around trying to memorise each of their faces. You knew the Fireflies once, vaguely, years ago before you found Jackson. Yet, none of these faces are familiar to you, clearly not a part of the Boston faction of the rebel movement.

“I’m going to give you one chance to tell the truth,” Abby says, walking closer to you, the muzzle of her gun presses hard against your temple. “Otherwise I’m going to blow her fucking brains out.” Joel’s helpless eyes lock on yours, unshed tears pooling in his eyes.

“G-get the f-fuck away from me!” You struggle against male hands. You try to thrash against his grip, but your body tremors causes you to falter, your reflexes dulled from the hypothermia.

“Where was the last place you saw the Fireflies?” Abby asks. “Salt Lake.” Joel replies instantly, there’s no hesitation, the price of your life too high to even risk a lie. “At least you’re honest,” Abby mutters, lowering her gun from your head. She turns her back on both of you, stepping away closer to the tall male named Owen.

“I saved your life,” Joel calls after her, reminding her that she would be dead without him. Joel turns to you, in an attempt to comfort you. “It’s okay, baby girl—”

“What life?” Abby says before the sound of a shotgun blast ricochets off the walls.

“Joel!” You watch on as Joel hits the floor like a dead weight. His leg forcefully giving way, blood and shattered bone exposed underneath the torn denim.

Adrenaline flows through you.

You heavily stomp your boot down on the foot of the man who’s holding you, before quickly throwing your head back, the sickening crunch of someone’s nose breaking behind your skull. You’re finally able to twist free from his grasp just as Nora lunges for you, but you jab an elbow into her stomach, hard. She doubles over in pain, gasping for breath. Your fingers can only lightly brush against the hidden dagger you’ve stashed in your holster.

The fight leaves you as something collides heavy against your temple, your uncle’s face contorted in pain, his hand reaching out to you, the last thing you see before darkness pulls you under.

*

“Jesse! They’re down here!” Dina? Her voice is urgent. Distant. The sound of heavy steps drawing closer. Familiar calloused hands gently cradle your face, lightly brushing your hair away from your face.

“Baby, hey, you gotta open your eyes. Come on, baby.” You try to focus on the sound of his panicked voice, coaxing you out of the dark haze.

“Ouch, my head…” Your eyelids flutter open, heavy and reluctant to the light. Jesse’s concerned face hovers close to yours, his brows furrowed tightly together in worry. Where are we? For a moment, you don’t understand, you can’t seem to remember the moments before the darkness crept on you.

Then it hits you.

You sit up, fighting against the pounding in your head and the bile that burns in your throat, eyes searching, only to land to the sight just behind Jesse.

“No…” You instantly roll to your side and violently retch the contents of your stomach up, your body convulsing with each heave, sobs of Joel’s name breaking through in between. Jesse kneels beside you, hands carefully holding your hair, murmuring words of comfort into your ear. “I got you, baby, it’s okay, I got you.” It’s not okay, nothing is okay.

Your uncle’s body lies crumpled on the floor. The torture he must of endured evident. His once handsome features are barely recognisable under the purple swelling and deep gashes. A brutal dent crushed into his skull in what must have been the final blow that ended his torment.

You don’t know at what point Ellie came to your attempted rescue.

You only really register her presence in the room when she silently begins to drag her body closer to Joel, you take note of the weakness in her body and dried blood caked on her face. She must’ve been here.

The three of you can only watch on in despair when Ellie reaches his corpse, weaving her small fingers through Joel’s stiff unmoving ones, her body draping protectively around his. The struggles of her breathing, her chest heaving with each silent cry.

You can’t watch anymore. You bury your head into Jesse’s shoulder, your hands gripping tightly to his jacket, his own arms wrapping around you.

The four of you taking a moment in your shared grief.

You carefully cradle Ellie in your arms, mindful of every sob, every wince, every sharp intake of breath. Each one of her breaths are laboured, most likely the result of a collapsed lung. She folds in on herself, and the only thing you can do is wrap your arms around her, securing her to you.

There are no words of comfort. Both of you silently watch on.

Across the room, Jesse and Dina move in tandem, their own faces solemn, while they gently wrap Joel’s body in a tattered blanket. Then comes the plastic tarp, a cocoon of sorts, sealing him away from the world.

You gently shift away from Ellie, careful not to cause any more pain to her injuries. Your limbs feel heavy with each step you take closer, when Dina and Jesse begin to lift your uncle’s corpse. You move in between them, your arms sliding beneath Joel’s torso, the weight of him a devastating reminder of what you’ve lost today.

The three of you carry his body outside, the storm has finally settled, but you pay no attention to the cold that bites at your skin. Together, you slowly lower him onto the makeshift stretcher newly attached to your horse, on the snow covered ground. Jesse turns to go back inside, to bring an injured Ellie out, for you all to go home together. Dina lingers for a moment, then takes a step back, giving you a moment of privacy without a word.

You remain there, frozen in place, you stare perplexed at the still shape in front of you. A foolish part of you expects a sign of life from the body. But he doesn’t move.

“You’ve got her?” You hear Jesse behind you, helping lift Ellie on to Dina’s horse. “I’ve got her, Jess.” Dina’s reply lost in the wind.

You move to kneel in the snow, your gloved hands pulling tight on the ropes that secure the plastic tarp that encases your uncle’s body. You make sure every knot is tight and firm, that the plastic tarp protects his earthly remains on the journey home.

You drop your head to his chest, the silence within causing you to sob. “I love you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

“Come on, baby.” Jesse’s tone soft as he crouches down next to you. “We have to get back. We have to take him back.” You don’t even resist as Jesse helps you to your feet. Each movement mechanical, instinctual, your brain switching off to all thought and feeling.

You and Jesse ride together, your body pressed against his, your gaze steadily fixed into the distance, yet you see nothing. Every now and then, you glance behind, silently checking that Joel is still with you. Jesse’s arms are strong around you, holding the pieces that are threatening to break, together.

The gates of Jackson open at the sight of your small group. Hundreds of infected bodies cover the ground surrounding the gate, their bodies left to slowly burn in the snow. The stench of burning flesh seeps into your nose, turning your stomach. The adrenaline that had kept you going finally begins to drain from your body, leaving behind the pounding in your skull and a hollow ache in your chest.

You notice immediately the town in ruin, having taken a big hit to its defence. Bodies of infected and people you once knew lay scattered, dead in the streets.

Jesse slides off the horse first, his hands firm as he reaches up to help you down. You barely register his commands to deliver the stretcher to the morgue. “Who is it?” Jesse’s arms wrap tighter around you at the question. “It’s Joel.”

The words are so final, so real, the pieces inside you are finally breaking. Despite the ache behind your eyes, you swivel your head around, searching for the only person who can keep you from falling apart so spectacularly.

You catch sight of him, his eyes locking in on the tarp, before glancing at you, a moment of relief crosses his face. Jesse doesn’t resist when you push away from his hold, running towards your father. “Daddy…” Tommy catches you in his arms just as your legs give out. He pulls you in tightly, his arms wrapping protectively around you. Tommy’s calloused hands cradle your face, his fingers lightly tracing over the cut above your brow, a matching one on his own temple.

“I’m so sorry, I-I tried, I-I couldn’t-“ Tears freely fall from your eyes.

Tommy tenses, the realisation that while he might not of lost his daughter, he has lost his only brother, hits him hard in the chest. Your father can only pull you in tighter, his chin resting on your head, and both of you just hold on to one another.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” Tommy whispers over and over. He presses a delicate kiss to your head, his own tears slowly slip into your hair while he rocks you in his arms.

Note: thank you so much for reading if you’re still here, can promise the next one has more Jesse x reader interaction with some smut too

Tag list: @larascorneroftheworld, @jellyfishlord123, @aleemendoza2425-blog, @justcallmesams, @onlyforyuto, @genrockstar, @peachyxlynch

[chrisbunnys]

can i be yours?

pairing: jesse/fem!reader genre: fluff + smut w.c.: 10k a/n: i got so carried away with this one but consider it a fix it fic <3

summary: You've been living in Jackson for almost a year, you think you're in love with your best friend, and you're a virgin. Dina meddles.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI, friends to lovers, slow burn?, virgin!reader, kinda oblivious!reader, soft!jesse, dellie being nosy, past dina/jesse, oral (f receiving), loss of virginity/first time, p in v, riding, jesse practicing his pull out game, mentions of alcohol, no y/n

read below or on ao3 here <3

You didn’t fit in yet.

You had only arrived at Jackson about 3 months ago, hiding behind a group of 6 people that took pity on you at least 100 miles ago with nothing but a rusty knife and the tattered clothes on your back.

The people of Jackson were kind, hospitable. They fed your entire group and kept you warm. It was frightening—being around so many new different people, in a town that you assumed looked too similar to how it was before the outbreak.

Now that the group was safe, surrounded by towering walls and hot food, it gradually disbanded. You found yourself feeling strangely hollow sitting at a table all by yourself in the food hall, the soup in front of you almost too warm and too good, or in your house, because all of the people you came with grouped off and found others they preferred to stay with.

Similarly to how you were surviving on the outskirts of the state of Wyoming, you were all alone again.

It was almost comforting, strangely reassuring, as you silently agreed to whatever tasks were available by the time you rolled out of bed just after sunrise. The town was already bustling with energy, people shouting good mornings to each other, and it was almost like there was nothing horrifically disturbing happening outside of these walls.

You got tasked with clearing out the stables one sunny day. You didn’t mind—you loved animals. They never judged you and they actually craved to be in your presence. It was nice to be wanted for once.

You were told to ask for a Jesse. When you arrived, there was already a group of three other people around your age; two girls and a guy.

The two girls were huddled around an auburn horse that was nuzzling into their open palms, giggling at the tickling whiskers. You watched as their shoulders bumped together, trying to ignore the ache you felt bloom in your chest at the mere sight of them.

“Hey,” the boy calls out to you, voice deeper and smoother than you expected, and approaches you. “Did Maria send you?”

He was tall, all broad shoulders and thick arms. He was pretty, in a boyish way, with sparkling brown eyes and a polite smile. The cold winter air bit at his face, causing his cheeks to look a bit pink.

You nodded, the instructions that Maria had left you with dying in your throat. He must have been Jesse.

“Dina, Ellie, come on. Let’s get started.” Jesse doesn’t even bother waiting for them, or for you, and makes his way to the storage closet around the corner.

You’ve seen the three of them around Jackson before. Either huddled together in the corner of the mess hall or laughing and shoving at each other when you were walking through the main street. Everyone in town seemed to step aside for them, whispering amongst themselves about Ellie and the rugged man she came with several years ago. You never caught what it was about, but you didn’t really care.

Dina greets you with a warm smile while Ellie gives what you can only describe as a grimace as they pass by.

The rest of the morning is spent in a similar manner. The three of them talk, argue, bicker, and you’re off to the sidelines. You feel awkward, like an outsider. There’s an obvious sense of comfort the three of them bring each other, and you don’t want to ruin that.

And yet, when Dina makes a joke at Jesse’s expense, she looks at you. When you couldn’t find the farrier tools, Ellie appeared at your side and was able to dig them out behind a pair of old boots for you. When you found yourself actively listening to a long-winded story Ellie was telling about a comic book series that she loved, you found Jesse was blatantly staring at you out of the corner of your eye.

When Dina invited you to have dinner with them by time you’ve finished, you found yourself agreeing.

But then you kept getting invited—most of the time by Dina with a friendly shoulder bump, sometimes by Ellie with a nervousness that you found almost endearing, and occasionally by Jesse, wearing that polite smile that eventually continued to thaw away.

The next several months pass like that.

You would wake up alone in your house that was much too large for one person. You would go do your job for that day, either helping out at the store or at the garden, have your meals with the three people that you have suddenly realized you considered friends, and then home again.

You found yourself looking forward to mealtimes, even if you weren’t contributing much to the conversation. They were used to it by now and thankfully didn’t mind. Besides, watching the three of them bicker with each other about the most inane topics was entertaining enough.

You found that ache in your chest slowly dissipating. You were smiling more, talking more, and whenever you laughed, you could’ve sworn the three of them would make eye contact with each other as if having a silent conversation you weren’t privy to.

But you didn’t care. How could you care about what they were thinking when you found yourself looking forward to the day, contributing to the community, and hopeful that you’ll be ready to go out on a patrol.

And then there was Jesse.

You weren’t blind—you and the rest of the girls in Jackson knew he was handsome. Anyone could have told you about the strong cut of his jawline or the broad width of his shoulders as he helped with the construction of the town. He was quiet, not as quiet as you, but appeared to be just as content as you to watch Dina and Ellie squabble.

Often times he would join the conversation, and that’s when you noticed the strange history between him and Dina, though you know they tried to hide it.

So you try to shove down the stirring of emotion you get when you notice the way Jesse glances at you from across the table, eyebrows drawn together like he’s not quite sure what to think of you just yet. You ignore the way his hands would dwarf his handgun while cleaning it when you were hanging out in Ellie’s room and the expanse of skin that would reveal itself every time he stretched, the flex of muscles evident even through his shirt.

It's almost summer when you get invited out to the Tipsy Bison for a couple of drinks.

You usually prefer not to step foot in the dingy bar, instead much rather enjoying laying out on your couch to work through the dusty novels on your bookshelf. And you were about to decline Dina’s offer, citing that exact reason, but then she says something that has the hair on the back of your neck raise.

“Jesse said he was looking forward to seeing you there, but, oh well.”

And that’s how you found yourself huddled in a booth, Jesse brushing up against your left side and Ellie on the other.

It was absolutely packed tonight due to an event that you didn’t even realize the bar even had the capacity to hold. The rancid smell of moonshine and grilled meats permeated through the air, while the live band playing off-key and the animated chatter of the rest of the patrons filled your ears.

The rest of them were in the middle of gossiping, something juicy happening on someone else’s patrol, but you couldn’t even bother to pretend you were paying attention. You were staring holes at the glass of water in front of you, sweating from the bar’s humidity, and trying and failing to not think about what Dina meant when she said that Jesse was wanting you here.

So far, he hadn’t given you any special indication he was waiting for you when you arrived. He just gave you that warm and genuine smile that has been inexplicably making your chest hurt more and more, and stepped out of the booth so you could sit inside rather than out on the edge. Because he knew you didn’t like the chance that someone could bump into you during the night.

You and Jesse were friends, good friends even. He made sure to check up on you at the end of the day, always giving you the last bite of his bread during dinner, and always offering to walk you home after a night out at the bar or even from Ellie’s.

And again, there was that… thing he had with Dina. You could’ve sworn you saw them talking in private the other day, facial expressions open and hopeful. They were clearly dating, or talking, so you weren’t sure why they hadn’t told you yet. Not like it was technically any of your business.

You’re suddenly aware of a lull in the conversation and multiple pairs of eyes on you.

When you glance up from where you were staring at a droplet of water racing down the side of your glass, your assumption was correct. Dina and Ellie were watching you with equal amounts of concern and amusement dancing in their eyes while Jesse was making his way back from the bar with a new drink in hand.

You blink, not even noticing that Jesse had gotten up. “What?”

Ellie’s mouth twists, as if trying to hold back a laugh. “We asked you a question.”

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue, you thought as you tried and failed to glance at Jesse out of the corner of your eye as he settled in next to you while taking a sip from his drink. “What was the question?”

“The question was,” Dina whispers, nearly conspiratorially and leaning into the table. You and the rest of the table unconsciously follow. “When was the last time you had sex?”

Suddenly, Jesse splutters out his drink, spraying the table and all of your hands. Ellie immediately yelps in disgust, swiping her hands on her jeans, while a burning heat crawls up your neck.

“What?” You hiss, yet it embarrassingly comes out like a squeak.

Jesse’s coughing, the corners of his eyes tearing, while Ellie has to stand and lean across the table to try and slap him on the back. It all would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the lazy eyebrow Dina raises and the smirk she’s wearing, as if she can see right through you.

“Don’t tell me… you’re not a virgin, are you?”

Blood rushes through your ears, dulling the music and the way Jesse hisses at Dina, most likely a warning. You can’t even be bothered to wonder why he would do that, react like that, because the hot flare of embarrassment blooms in your chest and up to your face. Your nails dig into your palms from how hard you’re clenching your fists underneath the table and your mouth gapes, opening and closing like a fish.

“Uhm,” is all you can manage out.

You know it’s nothing you technically should be embarrassed about—it was the end of the world. But it’s also been the end of the world for over 20 years now, and you’ve been living in Jackson for almost a year so you’re not sure if that’s an excuse anymore.

You’ve heard the other girls in the town gossiping, talking about sex so casually it was as if they were talking about the weather. And it’s not like you were a complete prude—you’ve seen the dirty magazines that were passed around in the groups you had to join for survival, the noises people would make when they thought everybody else was asleep. Only recently did you start experimenting with your own body, fingers silently dipping underneath your panties and adamantly trying not to think about soft brown eyes and thick biceps.

“You’ve had your first kiss at least, right?” Ellie looks concerned, eyebrows pinching together.

“Of course I have,” you mutter, avoiding everyone else’s eyes. You fail to mention that it only happened as recently as last year and with a boy who barely pressed his mouth to yours, and then had mysteriously disappeared the next day.

There’s silence. When you lift your head, the three of them are still watching you, waiting. They’re being nice, considerate, letting you open up as much as you want to. They’ve been so patient and welcoming, you don’t feel like it’s a chore at all when you heave a sigh, shoulders slumping forward as your eyes fixate on an old scratch on the table. “Yes, I’m a virgin. It’s kind of hard when the world is ending to find the right person.”

It’s a poor attempt at a joke, but you can hear the lack of conviction in your own voice. No one laughs. In fact, no one says anything for several seconds, long enough where you feel your ears start to burn.

You’re wondering why no one is fucking saying anything, not budging from where you’re staring a hole into the table, when Dina seems to take pity on you.

“You know, Jesse’s a great kisser.”

It doesn’t process at first, your ears still ringing from anxiety, but then you hear Jesse say a very dumbfounded “What the fuck, Dina,” and then it’s like time begins moving again. The music rushes through you like someone just raised the volume, you’re suddenly aware of how fast your heart is pounding, and you can feel Jesse’s warm thigh pressed up against yours underneath the table.

You suddenly feel like you’re being excluded from some inside joke as you watch confusedly as Jesse and Dina argue over the table. He looks embarrassed, a flush decorating his neck that you’re starting to wonder if it was due to the alcohol or something else, while Dina is wearing a poorly hidden smirk.

Because why would Dina bring up the fact that Jesse was a great kisser when they were dating? It’s not like she was the type to brag or rub it in people’s faces. In fact, she’s never even told you that they were dating in the first place besides it being a well-known fact throughout the town.

Maria suddenly appears to discuss a patrol-related issue with Jesse, and then it’s like nothing ever happened. The rest of them continue casual conversation as if Dina didn’t drop a nuclear bomb into your brain.

You try not to ruminate over it, not wanting to make the night more awkward than you felt like it already was. You attempt to participate with the group shenanigans and gossip, but it all feels stilted.

By the time you guys call it a night, citing an early patrol for some of them, you’ve come to terms with the fact that Dina had said that because she had already had too many drinks and was just making a poor attempt at flirting.

“You ready?” Jesse asks, throwing his coat over his arm to carry. You ignore the way you can see the flex in his arms as he leans against the booth. He’s stopped asking you whether he can walk you home or not, knowing that you would politely decline anyway, and has just decided for himself that he would whenever he could.

You nod wordlessly, tamping down at the fluttering in your stomach.

The both of you say bye to Dina and Ellie outside the bar. You watch with a slight frown when Dina whispers something in Jesse’s ear, causing him to hiss at her again and elbow her in shoulder. She laughs, loud and full of delight, and you manage to tear your eyes away at something that was clearly a private moment between them.

You were happy it was almost summer—warm enough where the snow has long since melted,  but still a refreshing coolness in the air as you and Jesse walk side by side. The air smelled crisp, the smell of a bonfire starting to become familiar and comforting, and you were looking forward to the summer heat after months of snow.

Despite the late hour, there were still people milling around Jackson, coming to and from the bar or just huddling around a group to joke around. You wonder if this was what it was like before the outbreak—people able to just stand outside without worrying about being heard by clickers or attacked by raiders.

Jesse’s arm continues to brush against yours with every step, the heat from his body nearly burning you from the inside out with every second of silence the passes.

It’s always nice to spend time with Jesse, even if it was only for the five-minute walk to the main street to your house. You’re content to have him all to yourself, even if it was only because your house was along the same route to his. He usually doesn’t bother talking to fill up the silence and you don’t mind, the sounds of your steady breathing and the noises of Jackson being enough.

Except today.

“So,” Jesse says suddenly, nearly causing you to jump. “You seeing anyone?”

The question almost stops you in your tracks, but instead you trip over your feet and nearly fall flat on your face.

His hands reach out, as if to catch you, but you’re able to stabilize yourself before letting out an incredulous laugh, head whipping around to face him. “Are you serious?”

To his credit, he looks embarrassed, looking off to the side and setting his shoulders. He’s been embarrassed a lot tonight. “What? I’m just curious.”

You take his word and assume that he’s right. He’s just being curious, or maybe even a bit protective, but there’s an annoying nagging feeling at the back of your brain that says otherwise. “I think you would notice if I was dating someone since you guys are my only friends.”

You’re grateful that Jesse doesn’t wince like anybody else would. Instead, he laughs, shoulders dropping as if in relief. The sound makes something warm settle in your chest. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t lying about being a virgin.”

The comment makes you flush, the near crudeness making your heart skip a beat. You try not to let it show, but you don’t think you do a very good job with the way Jesse tilts his chin to look at you. His gaze is dark, sending a strange shiver down your spine.

“I’ve barely even had my first kiss, I don’t think you need to worry about that,” and then you’re desperately rushing to change the subject, suddenly able to sense his curiosity. “Well, what about you? Are you and Dina still dating?”

For a moment, Jesse doesn’t say anything, and you start to think that you’ve overstepped a boundary. It makes sense since neither of them have even confirmed they were dating in the first place.

And then he’s chuckling, a low sound that doesn’t help the sharp desire crawling up your throat. “No,” he says. “Dina and I aren’t together.”

You hum, partly because you weren’t quite sure how to respond without giving away the sudden relief you felt but also partly because you’ve made it to your front porch. The stairs creak with every step and you’re glad that you had remembered to turn the porch light on, not confident that you would be able to have steady legs with Jesse at your side.

If him and Dina weren’t dating, what has all the whispering and nudging been about?

Both of you stop in front of the door, quiet besides your soft breaths. It’s awkward, or maybe it feels awkward to you and it’s all in your head, because you don’t think Jesse and the word awkward can even exist in the same sentence.

And yet, as you stand on your front porch to your too-big house, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jesse like this. A pretty tinge of pink plastered on his neck, thick fingers wringing together, shoulders tense as he shifts in place.

You’re struck with how handsome he looks like this, his hair ruffling from the faint breeze and boyish despite how much more experienced he was then you in probably all aspects—within the community, combat, and even in relationships, romantic or otherwise.

You’re not sure where you get the surge of confidence from, feeling spectacularly sober, but the way Jesse’s eyes flits to your lips and then back up has you feeling dazed like you had knocked back five drinks.

“Do you want to come inside and help me?”

You know you don’t have to clarify about what when Jesse’s eyes widen, lips parting, before he nods.

As you open the front door, breaths unsteady and hands nearly shaking, you wonder if he could somehow hear the concerningly erratic rate your heart was racing at.

The stale scent of dust and the fire you had burning last night immediately envelops you as you both toe off your shoes. The house was sparsely furnished since you were the only person living in it; an old couch with a cracked coffee table in the living room, a wobbly dining table with only one mismatched chair, and a worn mattress upstairs. There were a couple of bookshelves filled with the dusty novels you've been working on and random knickknacks that you hadn't had the heart to toss out.

The house is still unfamiliar to you, not quite a home yet, so you feel a strange sense of anticipation as you turn to face Jesse, your socks sliding against the hardwood.

You hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on, so the only way you were able to see was due to the street lamps bleeding through your windows and casting the empty living room with a warm glow.

You clearly hadn’t thought this through, not sure what to say or what to do next, and felt suddenly inadequate.

Because what if you do everything wrong and mess it up somehow? Or worse, you don’t even get that far and Jesse changes his mind, not finding you desirable in the same way you find him and avoids you around Jackson for the rest of your life?

Your racing thoughts come to a startingly quick stop at the brush of Jesse’s hand against your cheek, soft and warm. You meet his eyes from where you were staring at your feet, and you find yourself unconsciously holding your breath when you notice how close he suddenly was.

He’s unbearably gentle as he cradles your cheek, your jaw, as if you were a skittish animal. You catch a glimpse of the softness in his brown eyes, honeyed from the light filtering in from the street. His voice is low, raspy in a way that had lightning shoot up your spine, when he asks “Can I kiss you?”

You nod, barely a tilt of your chin, and then he’s leaning in and finally pressing his mouth to yours.

His lips were soft, just like you predicted, and so much better than the boy you had kissed last year. It’s clear Jesse knows what he’s doing too, with the way his large hand tilts your head to kiss you better, his other hand coming up to land on your hip.

He tastes like his drink he had at the bar, spicy and like caramel, incredibly intoxicating and enough for you to place your palms on his sturdy chest. You resist the urge to grab him by the collar and tug him closer.

When he pulls away and you open your eyes, not even realizing you had shut them in the first place, he’s watching you with an expression so fond it steals the breath from your lungs.

“How was that?” he asks, a nervous smile tugging at his lips and drawing your attention to them.

You could feel the erratic thumping of his heart underneath your palm, nearly matching yours, and you’re starting to realize that maybe your feelings weren’t all completely one-sided.

“I think I’m going to need more practice,” you attempt to joke, however the breathiness in your voice gives you away.

He smiles then. “I guess I can’t say no to that.”

You feel less awkward when he kisses you this time, exhilarated at the heady sensation of his mouth against yours, and you’re not even aware you’re stepping in closer into his embrace until your body is pressed up against his.

He hums, his hand tightening on your hip and tugging you even closer, and the sudden onslaught of pleasure that thrums through you when his muscular thigh settles against your core has you gasping in his mouth.

And it’s like a dam breaks. His hand leaves your jaw to grab at your hips, tugging you until your back was pressed up against the wall. He immediately delves into your mouth, deepening the kiss, and the feeling of his tongue lightly brushing against yours was new but not unwelcome. In fact, you fist at the fabric of his sweater, pulling you into him so his chest was pressed against yours.

By the time he pulls away, you’re gasping for air but following his mouth for more. His head dips to press tenderly along your jawline and then up to nip at your earlobe.

It’s nearly ticklish with his warm breaths and his hair brushing against your face, but you can’t help the whimper that escapes when he starts pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. A familiar coil of heat starts at the pit of your stomach, only intensifying with each brush of Jesse’s clothed thigh in between yours.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he whispers against your neck. “Whatever you want.”

It’s sweet, and so earnestly like him to make sure that you were comfortable that it makes you smile.

You don’t think you’ve ever trusted anyone more than you trusted Jesse. The few times that you went on a practice patrol with him, just barely on the outskirts of town, you knew you were safe. He always treated you with kindness, more than you ever deserved, and you knew this was no exception.

“Can we go upstairs?”

He presses one last kiss on your bare shoulder, the collar of your shirt skewed, and pulls back to lean his forehead against yours, eyes squeezing shut as if he needed a second to breathe.

When he opens his eyes, arousal runs hot through you when you notice the way his pupils were blown and nearly swallowing the honey brown of his eyes. Lips parted with heavy breaths, he searches your gaze.

You’re not sure what he finds or what he was looking for, but he swallows and nods. “Okay.”

When he steps away, leaving your body significantly colder than before, you take a hold of his hand to intertwine your fingers with his to pull him upstairs and into your bedroom. You think you notice him try to hide a smile.

If your living room was sparse, your bedroom was even worse—an old twin bed tucked in the corner, an empty desk, and all of your clothes spilling out of your backpack instead of hung up in the empty closet. Even though it’s been several months since you’ve been in Jackson, you weren’t quite ready to hang your clothes up.

If Jesse notices, he doesn’t say anything, instead crowding against you with large hands on your hips until the back of your knees collide against the edge of the bed. He captures your giggle with a chaste kiss, and then another, and tugs you close until you were flushed against him.

You feel him fidget with the hem of your shirt and it causes a sudden spike of anxiety in your stomach, overpowering the steady hum of arousal.

Jesse must notice because he pulls back, pausing. “Is this okay?”

Now you were crossing into unknown territory, but rather than being scared, the tenderness in Jesse’s eyes did nothing but comfort you, your nervousness slowly ebbing away.

You nod and move your hands to grasp at the edge of his shirt, his fingers still ghosting over the hem of your sweater. “You first.”

He huffs a laugh at that, rolling his eyes fondly, and then lifts his shirt off to throw in the far corner of your room.

Any words you were going to say die in your throat. You knew Jesse was in shape, evident by how often he was called on for construction duty, but seeing it in person with no clothes and in the privacy of your bedroom was a whole different story.

Fair skin riddled with scars dusting over his chest and his stomach, the muscles of his abdomen jumping out at you. Before you could stop yourself, you brush your fingers across his chest to trace a predominant scar before trailing down. You watch, entranced, as he shivers, stomach tensing and goosebumps rising along his skin.

He sucks in a sharp breath, breaking you out of your reverie, and when you glance up at him, he looks nearly dazed, eyes wide and searching.

When you lift the hem of your shirt off and over your head, you jump at his hands suddenly coming to run along your ribcage, fingers brushing against the stiff underwire of your old bra. He deftly unclasps it, letting it fall away, as he mutters a curse under his breath at the sight of your breasts.

“On the bed,” he rasps, eyes still fixated on your chest.

It makes you want to giggle, maybe preen a little, because he’s being such a boy, but then he steps away to unbuckle his belt and you spot the noticeable bulge pressing through the crotch of his jeans. Your breath stutters, fingers twitching with curiosity, before eventually obeying and climbing up your bed until you were laying with your head on your flat pillow.

He’s on you a moment later, crawling up the length of your body until he’s hovering over you. His arms are on either side of your head, his warm breath fanning over your face. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, finally allowing yourself to run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He makes a noise, almost akin to a purr, and nudges his nose against yours, causing a grin to form on your face.

He studies you for a moment, eyes wide as if in awe despite the clear arousal swimming in them. He reaches up to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind your ear, the pad of his finger brushing along your cheekbone. The action sends your heart flipping in your chest.

“You know this is more than me doing you a favor, right?” he whispers, as if worried that speaking any louder would break the daze you felt.

If possible, your heart nearly seizes. You had your suspicions, having difficulty justifying the plain affection Jesse wore as soon as he stepped through your doorway. It explained the deliberate way he sought you out in the food hall or how he seemed to always find you when you were on your way back from the store, silently falling in step with you.

It certainly explained the now obvious way Dina was trying to set you two up.

The revelation has you grinning, fondness for the friends you’ve made here in your new home fluttering in your stomach. Maybe Jackson wasn’t too bad after all.

Jesse’s brows furrow in confusion, and before he can climb off of you thinking you were hesitating, you tug at his hair. A thrill runs up your spine at the way his eyes flutter shut, a rough groan tumbling out of his mouth that sends molten arousal between your thighs before you say, “I know.”

You tug him down to kiss you, this time your lips parting easily as if to convey just how sure you were.

You think he can tell, knows, by the way he hums into your mouth, tongue brushing against yours briefly before making his way down your jaw again, your neck. His warm breaths and the way his teeth skims along the column of your throat, the dip of your collarbone, has you feeling dizzy and distantly wondering if he’ll leave a mark if you ask for it.

“Fuck,” he mutters, muffled against the base of your throat, the low hum of his voice causing you to press your thighs together. His hands splay along your sides, thumbs brushing along the underside of your breasts. “You’re so pretty.”

His words warm you from the inside out despite the way you want to immediately shake your head and adamantly deny it. He doesn’t give you the chance to before he’s kneading your breasts, groaning under his breath again, and then dipping his head to wrap his plush lips around your nipple.

A broken gasp escapes you as you arch your back to push your chest further against him. The ache between your thighs flares further as the hard heat of his cock straining his jeans presses against your inner thigh. He swirls his tongue around the nub before flicking it with the tip before moving to your other breast and giving it the same amount of meticulous attention.

“Jesse…” you breath, mind muddled with the amount of pleasure humming through your veins. You’re not sure what you’re trying to tell him, whether to keep going because it feels so good or to stop because you’ve only just started but it feels like he’s been touching you for hours.

He pulls away with a lewd pop. “What is it, baby?” he murmurs, his lips faintly brushing against your nipple and causing you to whine. “Use your words, tell me how you feel.”

The pet name nearly sends you into a heart attack. Your hands move to grab onto his broad shoulders, the firmness of him somewhat grounding and giving you enough strength to answer him. “Feels good…”

“Yeah,” Jesse whispers before pressing a brief open-mouthed kiss to your nipple that has you sharply exhaling. “I always want to make you feel good.”

He kisses down your stomach, the warmth of his hands following, and then his lips stop at the waistband of your jeans. He glances up at you then, pretty brown eyes wide, and you’re not sure how you suddenly found yourself in your shitty bed with your best friend peering up at you between your thighs but you’re certainly not complaining.

“You don’t have to…” you whisper, a sharp edge of insecurity digging into your chest again. You’ve never had someone go down on you before.

He presses a chaste kiss to the skin right below your navel, sincerity dripping from his voice as he says “Of course I want to.”

But he’s still gentle, cautious as if you were on the verge of running out of the room, as he unbuttons your jeans and slides them and your panties off. You balk at the obvious spot of wetness in the crotch of them, nearly sticking to your pussy, but Jesse doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on even further, watching the way your slick leaves behind a string of your arousal.

And then he’s laying in between your legs, head perfectly framed between your thighs and mouth so achingly close to your core. You could feel his warm breath fanning over your pussy, your inner thighs, and a whine threatens to come out of your throat at the way his hands dig into them.

“Just tell me if there’s anything you don’t like, okay?” He’s staring at your pussy, the way your puffy folds glisten even in the darkness of your room, but eventually peers up at you for your answer.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and shakily nod. Jesse gives you a grin so nonchalant, carefree, as if he wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world except for in between your legs.

He starts by kissing your inner thighs, open-mouthed and gentle, and it already has you slightly arching your back. Your hand reaches out to take a hold of his where he has it wrapped around your thigh. The immediate way he threads your fingers together over your lower stomach has your heart threatening to burst.

You know he’s not trying to tease you, most likely wanting to take his time with you, but fuck if you aren’t impatient, aching like you’ve been teetering on the edge all day.

He spares you, most likely just as impatient, and leans in to slowly swipe his flattened tongue up your seam and against your clit.

Your reaction is immediate—a shiver running through you and your mouth falling open as a low sound comes out of you. Your elbows give out, your head falling back onto your pillow.

That must have been what Jesse was waiting for because his grip on your thigh tightens and then he’s delving in, deliberately parting your folds with his tongue to gather your wetness and tasting you. He groans, the sound muffled in between your thighs, as he dips his tongue briefly in your entrance before coming up to circle around your clit.

It feels like fucking heaven and you’re not sure how you’re going to go about your day, your life, without the feeling of Jesse taking his time with you between your thighs imprinted in your brain. The warmth of his wet mouth, the eagerness and expertise of his tongue, and the way he’s pressing his face into you, like he can’t get enough of you, has you lightheaded.

He’s slow, unhurried, but you can tell he’s holding back from immediately fucking you with his tongue, eating you like he was a man starved. He’s trying to make it good for you, and he was, but the thought of him ravenously devouring your pussy until he had to hold you down by your hips to take it has you bucking your hips and whimpering into the open air.

Jesse makes an approving noise against your cunt, the vibrations sending heat curling up your spine, and then he’s trailing the tip of his tongue through your folds before flicking against your clit.

It feels like he just started, but already you feel the unfamiliar coil of your orgasm forming at the pit of your stomach. It’s been nearly months since you had your first orgasm, wretched out of you in your half-asleep daze with your blankets wrapped around your thighs and pressing against your pussy, and the way you were throbbing like how it was then has you breathless and dizzy.

“Jesse,” you gasp, eyes squeezed shut and your grip on his hand tightening. Your hips jerk up, chasing the heat and expertise of his mouth, and he just lets you. “I think I’m—”

His resolve fractures, because he doesn’t hold back as he essentially makes out with your needy pussy—suckling onto your clit before leaning down to fuck you with his pointed tongue, his hand that was gripping your thigh coming to rub firm circles around your clit, slick with the combined wetness of your arousal and his spit.

When you peer down at him, he’s already staring back at you. A particularly well-timed thrust of his tongue against your entrance has you coming with a shout, the tension in you snapping harder than you’ve ever thought possible. You felt your hips grind down unashamedly against his face as you cry out, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing.

He works you through it, tongue gently running over your folds as you catch your breath. Your thighs are still trembling when he crawls up your body to hover over you.

The entire bottom half of his face was covered in your slick and the sight sent something hot zinging through your body, your arousal now reduced to a soft hum between your legs. He was smirking and the scent of yourself on his face, so close to yours, was new. But then he’s licking his lips, tongue flicking out to capture the rest of you, and he looks so fucking sexy.

You surge up to capture his mouth in a kiss and the taste of yourself has you whimpering, kissing him harder as if he could tamp down the flare of all-consuming desire that was starting to overwhelm you.

When you pull away, you snake your hand down between your bodies to wrap a hand around his cock. He’s thick, velvety smooth, and weighs deliciously heavy in your hand as you curiously stroke him once.

Jesse grunts in surprise, hips jerking forward involuntarily and thrusting his cock into your fist. “Fuck, that feels good.”

The sound of his voice, already low and smooth like molasses, rasping in your ear because of you had you craving for more.

You attempt to wiggle your hips down the bed, hitching your legs around his waist and blindly trying to aim his hard cock against your entrance when Jesse stops you with a large hand on your wrist.

Before you could anxiously ask whether you were going too fast or coming on too strong, he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth and gives you a soft smile despite the sticky trail the head of his cock leaves against your inner thigh. “Sit up for me?”

Curious, you sit up and maneuver around so he could take your spot in the center of the bed, propped up and leaning back against the headboard. He was broad, taking up nearly all the room on your ratty twin mattress, and you stare at the flex of his thighs as he spreads them a bit and the pearly string of precum his cock leaves against the hard planes of his stomach.

“Come here,” he whispers, tapping his bare thigh.

You swallow, throat dry as you watch the bob of his cock and wonder what he would taste like, but you listen. You crawl up the bed until you’re straddling him, hovering your pussy over his cock with your knees on either side of his hips and your hands holding onto his shoulders.

You release a breathy sigh when you drop down briefly and feel the smooth skin of his cock against your aching pussy. You’re tempted to just move your hips back and forth, allowing your slick to coat his cock as he rubs against your seam.

And you think, why the fuck not, and lower yourself down to rub your pussy against his length. You gasp at the way his shaft rubs along your clit and how the continuous slick leaking out of you easily coats him and allows him to glide against you seamlessly.

Jesse groans at that, dick twitching against you, and his head falls forward until his forehead was pressed against yours. His hands fly out to clutch at your hips, torn between pulling you back and forth against his cock or up so he could fuck into you. “Fuck, baby, you’re killing me here.”

You bite back a smile. The thought of you, inexperienced and eager, causing Jesse to feel overwhelmed made you feel a bit smug, even a little prideful. It was flattering to know that Jesse was as hopelessly head over heels for you as you were for him.

Your smile is wiped off your face when you feel the head of Jesse’s cock slide along your entrance, dipping in quickly before sliding through your pussy and nudging against your clit.

It’s overwhelming, the heat underneath your skin nearly burning you from the inside out, so you lean forward until you’re panting, lips brushing against the shell of Jesse’s ear. His breath hitches, hands tightening on you, and then you whisper, “Please fuck me?”

He releases a strangled noise that sends heat straight between your thighs before he’s grabbing the base of his cock and notching the tip against your entrance. He stills, the muscles in his stomach tensing as you slowly bring yourself down on.

You bite your lip, face scrunching up at the initial stretch. It’s uncomfortable, burning just a little, but the barest hints of pleasure were there just out of reach.

“Breathe,” he says, voice strained from holding himself back from fucking into you immediately. When you open your eyes, eyebrows still furrowed as you slide down his cock, Jesse’s watching your face with such open concern and affection it has your heart thudding painfully.

You release a shaky breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding, nodding as you take a deep breath. You feel your lungs expanding, concentrating on the cool air filling them, as you lower yourself fully onto his cock until he was buried all the way inside of you.

He throws his head back against the headboard with a light thud, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, and you’re able to see the thudding of his pulse in his neck. His hands are clenched into fists against your hips, biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself back from running his hands all over your body.

And that won’t do, you think, craving his touch so much that your chest ached.

So you circle your fingers around his wrist, catching his attention as he lifts his head up to look at you curiously. You raise his hand until his palm is on your breast, and you smile when he instinctively molds his hand around you, fingers squeezing around your flesh. “You can touch me, you know.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he rasps. His eyes run over your entire body, drinking you in and lingering on where he could see his cock disappearing in your cunt.

“More than okay,” you whisper before leaning in to kiss him.

The slight change in angle nudges his cock deeper inside of you, causing your lips to part against his in a sigh, and he takes that opportunity to kiss you deeper with a hand cradling your cheek. The plushness of his lips and his harsh breaths fanning over your face was a nice distraction, allowing your tight pussy to adjust to him.

After several minutes, you experimentally rock your hips forward. The action immediately causes you to moan into Jesse’s open mouth, heat fizzling up your spine.

“Yeah?” He whispers, allowing you to continue moving your hips back and forth. The sensation of his cock rubbing against your walls, nudging against spots that you didn’t think were possible, made your head fall back. He takes the opportunity to dip his head forward and lick and nip at the delicate skin of your neck. “That feel good, baby?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak without rambling. The stretch has faded to a dull ache, blending into the one you felt at the pit of your stomach. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbed against your sensitive clit, just on the border of being too much, so you straighten up a bit on your knees.

You lift yourself up with your hands on his shoulders, moaning at the delicious friction of his cock dragging out of you, before dropping yourself back down. It’s a little graceless, clumsy even, but fuck does it feel good. You repeat it, pulling yourself off and then back down on his cock with your knees pressed against your flimsy mattress until you were riding him at a steady pace.

Your knees and thighs were already starting to ache, possibly due to the fact that you haven’t been as physically active since you arrived at Jackson, but the strangled noises Jesse was making with each thrust made you think that it didn’t even matter.

His hands were all over you now—fingers tracing every freckle and palms running over your curves. His hips have started moving alongside yours, timing his thrusts perfectly to make sure his cock was driving into you as deep as it could get each time you dropped down onto his thighs.

He was staring at you again, eyes flickering all over your face and your body, catching on your breasts every time they bounced or when you licked your lips. He was vocal, which you appreciated—groaning deep from his chest every time you decided to grind against him or whispering praises about how good your pussy felt squeezing around him that made your face heat up.

It hits you then, as Jesse rubs his thumbs back and forth along your nipples, that he must have chosen this position for you.

He wants to make it good for you, not caring if he gets off at all or if you’d return the favor. Realizing the extent of how much he cares about you and making sure the first time you were physical with someone was pleasurable and exciting made you smile from feeling a little giddy.

“What are you giggling about?” he asks, an amused smile playing at his lips. He’s not even out of breath the same way you are, clearly more in shape than you based off the thickness of his arms and the deliberate way he was rutting his hips into you without so much as a sweat.

“Nothing,” you say, smile growing wider for some inexplicable reason. Maybe it was because you’re realizing that Jesse, seemingly unobtainable Jesse, has shown you more kindness than you thought was possible to exist in a person. Or maybe it was because the reason he always offered to walk you home was so he could spend more time with you.

Or maybe it was from the way he was rolling his hips up, making sure the thick head of his cock was nudging against a spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your hands to squeeze his shoulders “Oh, fuck.”

His grin widens, dark eyes glinting underneath the moonlight, and then he’s pulling you down until you were laying on his chest and your face was nestled into his neck. He grabs you by your hips and manages to scoot himself down until he was lying flat on the bed, not once letting you off his dick. He takes a hold of your thighs and lifts you up an inch, and then he’s driving his cock back into you.

You have to bite back your moan, aware of how close you were to Jesse’s ear, but you can’t hold back the high pitched whimpers seamlessly leaving your throat out of your own accord.

He fucks up into you, relentlessly, hips snapping against yours in a frantic rhythm that belies how on edge he’s been the entire night. “Fuck, you take my cock so pretty, baby.”

And the filth of his words, so sudden, has you shuddering, moaning softly as heat crawls up your spine and your walls clench around his length.

You try to sit up, your hands pressing on his chest, but the white-hot pleasure running through your veins has you feeling weak and your arms give out immediately. You knew you were getting close, can feel it in the throbbing of your cunt, and you didn’t want it to be over yet. You wanted to see him.

“Oh, just like that,” he moans, his thrusts faltering and turning sloppy from how tight your pussy was clenching around him. “That’s my perfect girl.”

The possessive edge in his words lights you up, stoking at the fire burning under your skin and in your stomach. You groan directly in his ear, your breath fanning against the side of his neck, as he somehow fucks you harder, faster.

You’re distantly aware of your poor bedframe, already on its last legs, creaking forebodingly, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, but your orgasm is creeping up the length of your spine, just barely out of reach.

You manage to straighten up, gathering enough strength in your arms until you were sitting up, your knees pressing into the mattress next to his hips and his cock deep inside of you. His rhythm doesn’t stop, doesn’t even falter, and you’re dazedly snaking a hand between your legs to rub your clit.

You don’t get the chance to as Jesse bats your hand away, replacing it with the pad of his thumb. You’d feel embarrassed at how wet you were, your slick coating the insides of your thighs, if it weren’t for the fact that it allowed him to glide effortlessly through your folds until he was dragging careful circles around your clit.

Your entire body jerks at the sensation, muscles tensing and your cunt clenching around his cock impossibly tighter. Blood roared in your ears as you reached out to grab his wrist, as if to stabilize yourself. “Jesse, fuck—”

His dark eyes don’t stray from your face, his thumb expertly dissolving you into nothing but a moaning, shaking mess. His lips are parted, face flushed and only now slightly out of breath as he continues fucking into you so hard your breasts jolt with every thrust. “You gonna come for me, baby? Let me feel that pretty pussy come on my cock.”

When your orgasm finally takes a hold of you, it’s stronger than the one coaxed from Jesse’s mouth. Your breath catches, jaw dropping open in a silent scream, your grip on his wrist tightening into a near death grip as you pulse around him.

Jesse curses, biting out your name as your pussy clenches around him, nearly pulling him in even deeper. He still makes sure to slow down the motions of his thumb, helping you ride it out until you were twitching and shuddering on top of him, but his thrusts quicken, turning almost sloppy.

You could tell he was close based off the deep grunts accompanying each thrust and whispers mixed with curses and your name. You try to blink away the daze in your eyes, wanting to watch the way he fell apart right below you—needed to witness it, as if you wouldn’t be able to believe this whole night even happened if you didn’t.

His hips stutter, exhaling like his breaths have been punched out of him, and then he’s thrusting into you once, twice, before scrambling back. You gasp wetly when his thick cock slips out of you, but your mouth snaps shut and your eyes widen when his large hand wraps around his cock, turning into a blur as he strokes himself.

And then he’s coming with a guttural groan, voice so deep it sends another shiver through you. You watch as ropes of his come shoot out, landing on the puffy folds of your pussy and dripping down your thighs, landing on his stomach and thighs.

Your legs are trembling from where you’re still kneeling above him, nearly screaming out at you until you finally sit down on Jesse’s thick thighs, your knees still on either side of his hips. The entire lower half of your body was sore, your pussy deliciously so, and you’re ready to just pass out while nestled into a certain man’s strong arms.

You’re still catching your breath when Jesse leans over the edge of the bed to grab his shirt and then he’s diligently wiping away his release from your skin, eyebrows furrowed as he makes sure he’s gentle with you.

He balls up his shirt and then tosses it aside before suddenly leaning over to wrap his arms around your midsection and pulling you up to him. You squeal, giggling as he manhandles you until you were lying on your side and he was flushed up behind you, his softening cock nestled at the base of your spine.

“You need to get a bigger bed,” Jesse mutters, face buried at the nape of your neck. The combination of his arms still wrapped around your midsection, giving you a gentle squeeze as he tries to get impossibly closer to you, as well as his warm breath against your skin has the beginning seeds of arousal sparking in your stomach again.

“You going to get me one?”

“If it means I can cuddle you without the threat of falling off the side of the bed, then yes.”

You smile, wrestling your arms free from where he’s essentially got them pinned at your sides so you could intertwine your fingers with his. He presses a kiss behind your ear, his lips soft, and the action causes your eyes to droop shut.

“As long as you’re the one paying for it.”

You feel Jesse’s laugh before you hear it, his chest shaking against your back, as the heat emanating from him and the low hum of chatter outside your window lulls you to sleep.

-

You wake up before him the next morning, beginning streaks of sunlight breaking through your curtains and shining into your face.

He’s still pressed right up against you, spooning you with his face tucked into your neck as if neither of you had moved an inch throughout the night. However, your thin comforter was thrown over the both of you, and combined with Jesse being an absolute furnace, you were nearly sweating through the sheets.

You’re blinking the sleep from your eyes, anxiety already curling around your heart and mind beginning to race that maybe this was a mistake or that Jesse didn’t want anything to do with you anymore.

You don’t have any friends besides essentially his friends, everyone in town seems to steer clear from you, and you’ve never been in a relationship before. Hell, you’ve been here for several months now and you still can’t think about actually being assigned for patrol and picking up a gun without your hand shaking.

You’re about to untangle yourself from him, suddenly craving the cold tile of the bathroom against your skin in an attempt to calm your pulse, but then he’s exhaling softly and squeezing his arms around you. He stretches his legs out, ankles popping, and then he’s mumbling something you can’t quite hear.

“What?” you say, heart nearly jumping in your throat.

He lifts his head, just enough so his words weren’t muffled against your neck as he says “Stop overthinking. Go back to sleep.” He nuzzles his face against your skin again, pressing his chapped lips to the curve of your throat that sends your pulse flying down to settle in between your thighs, and then he’s falling back asleep.

His soft snores right in your ear comfort you in a way that you never thought was possible before, warmth floating in your chest as his breath deepens.

So you fall back asleep.

-

It’s past afternoon by the time you two crawl out of bed. It wasn’t your fault that Jesse was particularly handsy and needy in the mornings.

Your knees are knocking together underneath the table as you eat your late lunch in silence, the bustle of the dying lunch rush filling your ears. You’re trying to keep your smile off your face, nearly giddy with excitement and affection, but you don’t think you do a very good job based off the way Jesse continues to glance over at you with a similar expression.

When Dina and Ellie arrive, already in the middle of a conversation, you don’t pay them much mind and instead focus on the last remnants of your stew sticking to the edges of your bowl.

But then Dina takes one good look at you, eyes roving up and down and taking in the oversized sweater that swallowed you up and smelled faintly like pine. Her gaze lingers somewhere above your chest before her face splits into a wide grin.

“I see you got to experience how good of a kisser Jesse is.”

Your heart drops, because you think Dina’s going to be mad, but then she’s cackling so loud it echoes through the building, and Ellie is snickering behind her hand, and Jesse leans over to swat at her shoulder, pretending to look irritated but instead appearing endearingly sheepish.

“Dina,” he warns, voice low.

“Relax, I’m just teasing,” she says, eyes comically jumping between you two. “Pass the salt?”

And just like that, conversation flows like nothing even happened. Like it was any other day where Dina and Ellie would touch each other more than usual, you would take advantage of the sunny weather and spend your day at the stables, and Jesse would pretend that he was assigned at the same station that day anyway.

Warmth settles deep within your bones as you throw around the fact that if your friends didn’t take you in like they did, you’re not sure how you would’ve survived the deep-seated loneliness that threatened you every time you walked through your front door.

Jesse places a broad hand on your thigh, essentially breaking you out of your thoughts. He’s studying you curiously, concerned.

You give him a soft smile, place your hand over his to intertwine your fingers together, and think about how maybe staying in Jackson doesn’t sound too bad.

[chrisbunnys]

the gasp i gasped whoooaa

[chrisbunnys]

when reading smut and y/n says “daddy”

[chrisbunnys]

claw clip

summary: reader misses claw clips the most of anything pre-apocalypse. joel is obsessed with her, and fixes her issue.

warnings/tags: jackson joel, obsessed joel, simping, fluffy, HEA

MASTERLIST

The question is: what do you miss most about life pre-apocalypse?

Some at the table, like Ellie and Dina, were born into this world, so sit in rapt attention, listening to everyone else discuss before.

Some, like me, were early teens at the time. There’s things we miss, but maybe not as much as those at the table like Joel and Tommy, who were in their 30s.

“Your turn,” Tommy turns to me, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

“Oh, I don’t know…” I say, folding my hands on the table. “I was 14 at the time. I’ve lived like this more than, yknow, like that.”

“Come on,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes playfully. “Name one thing.”

I sigh. “Claw clips.”

Joel next to me lets out an ungentlemanly snort. “Like, for hair?”

Without thinking, my hand raises up to bring my braid over my shoulder. “Yes! This is why I didn’t want to share. It’s stupid. I’m sure there are some out there, but they’d be so brittle and useless by now. I loved wearing my hair in a claw clip. I did it every day, so I would look just like my mom.” I shrug, wrapping the long braid around my hand. “I just miss it.”

I let my braid fall behind my back again, and an awkward silence falls over the table.

“That’s not stupid,” Dina says, offering me a smile that I return eagerly.

Joel reaches over, pulling my braid back over my shoulder, and I look to him.

“Sometimes I miss the small things, too,” he says, and I reach over to squeeze his thigh.

xxx

It’s a few days later when I’m reminded of this conversation. I’ve just finished dinner at Joel’s house, and Ellie is helping me clean up.

It’s been a few months that I’ve been dating the man that I know she considers a father, even if she doesn’t say it, and Ellie has been nothing but kind to me in that time. She’s strong willed and a little goofy, a perfect and dangerous combination that makes her endearing to me.

“Are you in love with Joel?” she asks as I hand her a plate to dry. One thing I have learned about the teenager is that she isn’t shy, not in the least. If something crosses her mind, she says it.

I let out a laugh that’s equal parts nervous and entertained.

“I can’t tell you that before I’ve told him that,” I reply, dipping a bowl in the water.

“Hm,” she says quietly. “Sounds like a yes to me.”

When we’re finished, she heads out to meet up with Dina, and I join Joel in the living room on the couch, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh.

Joel is reserved in front of other people. I don’t think anyone would realize at a glance what we are to each other. He keeps a polite distance, greets me with curt nods and barely-there smiles.

It’s different when it’s just the two of us. Joel is touching me, always. A hand on my thigh, or my lower back, maybe playing with my hair, or enveloping me in his arms.

It’s why I don’t mind the distance in public. It doesn’t feel cold because sometimes, I catch his stare lingering or wandering, and I know he’s longing for us to be alone, just like I am.

He wraps his arm around me, pulling me tight to him, and I rest my head on his strong shoulder.

“I have something for you,” he tells me, his voice like dark honey pouring over me in the dimming evening light.

“Oh?” I say, leaning away to look at him. He stands up, looking a little nervous, running his hands down his shirt.

“Wait here.”

He stalks off then, his boots clicking on the floor, and I wait anxiously until he returns.

I can’t tell what it is in his hands at first, until he sits next to me and extends it my way.

“I wasn’t sure how big it should be. I can make a smaller one, or larger. You have a lot of hair so I thought this would, uh, work.”

It’s a claw clip. Made of polished wood, shiny and beautiful. I open it and close it, hearing that familiar click that I’d almost forgotten.

I can see my mother, standing in the kitchen, expertly twisting her hair up in a way I was always trying to replicate.

My heart is pounding, tight in my chest as I stare at this gift with eyes that are filling with tears.

“Did you make this?” I ask, even though the answer is obviously yes.

He just nods and clears his throat.

With shaking fingers, I pull my hair back, twisting it as best I can in the way I remember my mother doing 20 years ago. I feel like a child, practicing in my bedroom, wanting to be as lovely as she was.

The clip feels secure on my head. A little heavy, since it’s made of wood instead of plastic, but that makes it special.

It fits perfectly, holding all my hair in a twist that probably looks messy, and tears are falling from my eyes now.

“You’re crying,” Joel says matter of factly. I try to remember if I’ve cried in front of him before. I think this might be a first.

“Joel, I…” I struggle to find the words to explain how I feel, so instead, I pull him to me by his shoulders and press my lips to his in a searing, desperate kiss that I hope tells him.

He holds me tight to him, returning the kiss with enthusiasm, and when I pull away, he wipes the tears from my face.

“This means a lot to me. I can’t believe you did that for me.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Why? Can’t you believe it, I mean?”

I reach up, running my fingers over the clip again. “No one has ever done anything like this for me. You must like me a lot,” I say with a smile, my voice still thick with emotion.

“You might say that,” he says, pulling me in for another soft kiss. “You might say I even love you,” he murmurs, his lips still a whisper away from mine, our eyes still closed.

I’m going to cry again. “I love you too, Joel Miller.”

He smiles at me then. A true, ear to ear smile, so rare from this serious man of mine, and the tears do flow then.

But he doesn’t seem to mind.

[chrisbunnys]

mrs. miller ~ husband! joel miller x f!reader

A/N: I choked back a sob thinking of this, but it's just so beautiful 🥹. The full fic is coming this weekend! I came up with this while talking to @heavens-whore, who you should totally check out if you haven't yet. If you couldn't tell I love Pride & Prejudice wayy too much

✧ minors dni with my blog or fics. i am not responsible for your consumption

✧ do not repost, copy, or translate my work   

⟡━━━━━━━━━━⟡

Joel was out on the porch, tuning his guitar, the low hum of strings drifting into the night air. Inside, you moved around the quiet kitchen, fixing yourself a late-night cup of Earl Grey.

The screen door creaked softly as you stepped out. You leaned your back against the porch column, hands cupped around your mug, watching him. His fingers picked a slow, gentle melody. You let it wrap around you like a blanket and enjoy it while it lasts.

Joel glanced up at you and smiled as he played for a little longer, then set the guitar aside. He patted his thigh and reached for you.

“C’mere"

You set your mug down on the small table beside him and climbed onto his lap. His arms came around you without hesitation, holding you close against the cool breeze.

“How are you this evenin’, my dear?” he murmured into your hair.

“Very well... only I wish you wouldn’t call me ‘my dear’.”

Joel pulled back slightly, brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

“Because it’s what my father always calls my mother when he’s annoyed about somethin’.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Alright, then. What am I allowed to call you?”

You smiled, fingertips tracing the collar of his flannel. “You can call me baby on weekdays... sweetheart on Sundays... and goddess divine—or angel sent from heaven—but only when you mean it.”

Your voice dropped to a quiet murmur on that last line. You looked up at him, eyes searching his, as if to underline it—mean it, Joel.

Joel didn’t answer right away. He just looked at you.

Steady. Warm. Quietly undone by you.

As if he was trying to memorize the exact shade of your eyes in this porchlight—how they softened when you were teasing but telling the truth. How they held just the tiniest glint of challenge beneath all that affection.

God he loved you so much.

He didn’t smile. Not yet. Just breathed you in as he reached for your face, his thumb brushed slowly over your jaw. Then finally, his voice—low, gravel-soft, he said:

“I don’t call you ‘baby’ or 'sweetheart' to pass the time. I call you that because I’ve been alone a long damn time, and it’s the only word I got for what this feels like.”

You looked at him—truly looked—and your chest ached a little with how much he meant it. The quiet conviction in his voice

“And what shall I call you when I am crossed?” he asked, voice dipped in playful grit, trying to lighten up the moment enough to make you smile. “Mrs. Miller?”

You tilted your head, lips curling.

“I like Mrs. Miller a lot,” you admitted softly, eyes holding his, “but it has to be something else.”

Joel gave you that look—the one where one brow lifts just slightly, like he’s intrigued and already bracing for whatever clever little thing you’ll say next. “Yeah? Like what?”

You smirked, fingers brushing his chest as you leaned in just a little. “How about ‘my fiercest trouble’?”

Joel let out a slow, gruff laugh. “That sounds about right.”

You smiled. “Or ‘the bane of my peace’?”

He grinned wider now. “Gettin’ dramatic on me.”

“You love it,” you murmured.

He didn’t deny it. Just leaned in close again, brushing his lips over your jaw.

“I’ll call you whatever you want,” he whispered, “long as you keep sittin’ in my lap like this and lettin’ me kiss you stupid.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he was already leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Just wondering… if not when you’re cross, and not on weekdays or Sundays—then when will you call me Mrs. Miller?”

Joel looked at you for a long second. Then his lips tugged into a faint smile, something deep and unreadable in his eyes.

“I say it,” he murmured, “when I’m real damn proud.”

“Proud?” you questioned.

He nodded, eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. When you say something smart, and shut a whole room up. When you laugh like that—like you forgot the world’s gone to shit. When I catch myself thinkin’ how lucky I am that you chose me.” He kissed your forehead, warm and lingering.

“When I can’t believe I get to be the one you come home to.”

He leaned in again, voice almost a whisper now.

“I don’t just throw Mrs. Miller around,” he said. “That’s the name I use when I’m lookin’ at my whole damn world.”

He kissed your forehead, warm and lingering.

“Mrs. Miller…”

Then your nose, soft and slow, like you were delicate porcelain.

“Mrs. Miller…”

Then, finally, your lips—his hand cupping the side of your face, thumb resting just under your ear.

“Mrs. Miller…”

⟡━━━━━━━━━━⟡

Stay tuned for the whole fic coming to you this weekend!!

✧ reblogs, likes & comments are deeply appreciated ♡  

✧ do not repost, copy, or translate my work  

[chrisbunnys]

picture perfect - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you for sending, love.

-----

Pedro was practically buzzing when he brought it up.

“We’re invited to the premiere next week,” he said, holding his phone up like a trophy. “And I want you to come with me.”

He looked so excited, so proud — like bringing you along was the best part of the whole event. Your heart squeezed. But immediately, a pit formed in your stomach.

Red carpet. Paparazzi. Hundreds of flashing cameras.

You tried to smile, but it felt tight. “Wow, that’s... amazing.”

Pedro's grin faltered, just slightly. “You don’t look excited.”

You scrambled for an excuse. “I — I think I have work that night.”

Pedro’s face dropped into a little pout. “You don’t even know which night it is yet.”

You cursed internally. Busted.

He set his phone down and leaned closer, voice soft. “Talk to me, cariño. What’s wrong?”

You picked at the hem of your sleeve. “I just... I always look terrible in photos,” you muttered. “I don’t wanna embarrass you.”

For a second, there was silence.

And then Pedro laughed — not at you, not meanly — but the kind of laugh that sounded like he couldn't even believe what he was hearing.

He scooped you up before you could react, pulling you right into his lap, cradling your face between his hands like you were a priceless piece of art.

“Baby,” he said, brown eyes serious now. “I don't care what the cameras see. I care about me seeing you there.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head, smiling so warmly it melted every single anxious thought.

“You're beautiful. Always. Even if a picture catches you mid-blink or sneezing or whatever — you're still my beautiful.”

You bit your lip, trying not to tear up.

“And besides,” he added, peppering little kisses across your forehead, cheeks, and nose, making you giggle, “you’re gonna be standing next to me. I’ll be the one everyone says looks lucky.”

You buried your face in his neck, laughing. “Stop it.”

“Never,” he said proudly. “I’m gonna brag about you all night. Just warning you.”

You pulled back, finally letting yourself really smile. “Okay,” you said softly. “I’ll come with you.”

Pedro’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Good. Because I already told my stylist to find us matching colors.”

You gasped. “Pedro!”

He just laughed, hugging you tighter.

You weren’t perfect. But to him — in every light, every angle, every photo — you were picture perfect.

-------

[chrisbunnys]

WHAT THE FUCK

I think I just fainted OH MY GOODNESS.