“Mhmmm,” you nod dumbly, clearly pleased with yourself and the position you’ve landed in: on all fours with your face forced into the pillow, back arched, ass up and red from his harsh slaps.
“Course ya do,” he chuckles mockingly, slightly breathless from the persistent pounding he’s been giving you, “fuckin’ dirty slut.”
His hand comes down on your ass again, leaving yet another branding print along with a staticky stinging sensation that hurts so good. “Love it,” you confess in a pathetic whine.
“Need someone t’fuck the brat outta ya, huh?”
He hovers over you, musty and sticky with sweat, tone dropping to an intimidating whisper in your ear, “well, m’gonna make it so y’can’t walk, girl. No more prancin’ around this place like some stupid whore, chattin’ up yer other boyfriends.”
His own words only serve to rile him up more, heart rate spiking at the thought of another man touching you, hell, just being near you.
“I’m the only dick you need, baby, got that?”
You manage something between a mewl and a moan… not nearly good enough for him. “Hey!” He grabs ahold of your hair, hastily yanking it to make you look back at him, “‘m talking to ya.”
Usually, you would put up a fight. Tease, push, anything to get him going. But something about his crazy eyes, tense jaw, and shallow breathing tells you he doesn’t need any more ammunition.
“I got it,” you choke out obediently.
“Say it, then. Whose is it now?”
“It’s- God!” He slams into you with purpose, like he’s proving ownership with each snap of his hips. “Yours,” you cry, tears spilling despite that faint reckless smile on your lips he knows so well.
non-apocalyptic world where everything's alright and there's no nasty walkers around. where daryl lives in a little creaky cabin with his younger, sweetheart girlfriend in the middle of nowhere ngghhh.
you wake up before him almost every morning, and quietly pull one of his button-downs over your tiny pink sleep shorts before padding barefoot across the creaky floorboards to make coffee. and then he'll slowly wake up after you and go smoke a cigarette beside you through the cracked kitchen window. and its always cold in that damp woodsy way, so he'll grab a blanket or a big jacket and wrap it around you as the morning fog rolls in.
the age difference is obvious in the strangest little ways. you're always leaving old magazines and sweet lip balms all over the cabin while he leaves hunting knives on counters and muddy boots by the door. and there's always animals wandering by, like possums and deer!
and you're constantly horny, always feining over daryl in some way. you're in a tiny lace camisole while he's gutting fish, and you're just watching, rubbing your thighs at his focused expression. or maybe when he's shaving in the bathroom and you're sitting on the tiny countertop swinging your legs back and forth, tugging him closer once he's finished.
sometimes you'll be in the woods, probably barefoot, wandering with daryl and you get extremely needy out of nowhere. and he just eyes you before pushing you up against a tree and shoving your cami up above your tits and attaching his mouth to one while you wrap your legs around his waist with soft moans, only the birds and bugs able to hear.
٠࣪⭑ joel doesn’t yell first—he bites. his voice drops, slow and cutting, and he’ll choose the words he knows will sting.
٠࣪⭑ he calls you kid when he’s angry, spitting it out like a reminder of the years between you. “grow the hell up, kid. this ain’t highschool. i gotta work, i can’t baby you all the damn time.” he knows it’ll gut you—and hates himself the second it leaves his mouth.
٠࣪⭑ says things like “you don’t know what the real world’s like yet” or “you’ll get tired of me sooner or later, best you figure that out now, save me a shit ton of headaches.”
٠࣪⭑ you get a little pouty when women closer to his age smile at him, or when his coworkers talk about their wives. joel secretly loves that you want him so bad, but when he’s exhausted, he doesn’t have the patience to reassure you.
٠࣪⭑ sometimes you just want his attention—his eyes on you after a long day. he normally gives it without thinking, but when he’s bone-tired he might snap: “jesus, can I sit for five minutes without you hangin’ off me?” and it cuts deep.
٠࣪⭑ arguments spark when your worlds don’t line up—your college friends vs. his coworkers, your idea of fun vs. his exhaustion.
٠࣪⭑ the fights don’t just sting—they ache. bc dating an older man felt thrilling until you realized when he pulls away, it feels like the end of the world.
٠࣪⭑ joel goes cold after being sharp—crosses his arms, rubs his temples, mutters under his breath, “should’ve known better…” and it makes your chest cave in.
٠࣪⭑ you try not to cry in front of him, but tears slip anyway, and that’s when his anger usually breaks. he sees you trembling and it shatters him. but he doesn’t know how to apologize cleanly. he’ll sigh, tug his hand through his hair, and mutter, “didn’t mean that, baby. you know i didn’t.”
٠࣪⭑ he shows up in the kitchen later, leaning against the counter, voice soft and rough: “i don’t want nobody else. just you. i just get tired. that’s on me.”
٠࣪⭑ his make-up love language is touch: pulling you into his lap, resting his forehead against yours, thumb stroking your cheek. if you’re still raw, he’ll try humor—teasing you gently, voice warm, “clingy little thing, ain’t ya? can’t say I don’t like it.”
٠࣪⭑ joel’s sharp words haunt him. he hates himself for snapping, so when you crawl into his lap later, his first instinct is contrition. his apologies are mumbled into your skin—against your neck, your chest, your thighs. “’m sorry, baby… should never talk to you that way… my sweet little girl, always so good to me.”
٠࣪⭑ he gets slow and indulgent—stroking your hair back, kissing your jaw, murmuring: “pretty little thing, look at you… can’t stay mad when you look so fuckin’ sexy sittin’ on me.”
٠࣪⭑ joel loves when you ride him after a fight—it makes him feel like you’re choosing him again. he’ll grip your hips tight and groan, “that’s it, baby girl. let it out. ride me like you hate me.” and he praises every whimper—soft chuckles between apologies: “so needy… so good for me. my baby girl.”
٠࣪⭑ if it was a bad fight—the kind where you cried, maybe even stormed out—the make-up sex is feral. joel doesn’t wait for slow touches. he pins you, growls into your ear, “you drive me goddamn insane, y’know that? gonna fuck that attitude right outta you.”
٠࣪⭑ he’s mean with his hands—slapping your ass harder than usual, leaving red handprints, fingers digging in where he knows it’ll sting. he loves when you slap him back across the face during sex—sharp little sting that makes him groan. it’s his favorite foreplay, a secret thrill. “yeah, there’s my girl. hit me harder. you’re so fuckin’ hot when you fight me.”
٠࣪⭑ & yes, he loves choking: his palm on your throat, squeezing harder than he normally would. he loves seeing your eyes roll when he does it. grows, “you like when i’m rough, huh? don’t lie.” the release is messy, sweaty, teeth and nails—both of you panting like you can’t decide if you’re still angry or crazy in love again
٠࣪⭑ but even if it was rough, joel never skips the aftermath. he pulls you tight against him, whispers into your hair: “i love you. don’t wanna fight no more, baby girl. just want you.”
٠࣪⭑ he presses kisses to every red mark he left, soothing with murmured “sorry, sorry, i’m stupid, i want all of you, every little goddamn annoying, sexy thing about you, don’t ever wanna lose you.”
masterlist | request box always open | drink water, i love you
Hello! For your requests, can I suggest: (older) Jackson Joel x sweet/sunshine Reader (younger) where Joel notices Reader during something mundane like handling horses after patrol, cleaning after Ellie's mess or doing dishes, etc and he thinks it's the hottest most, attractive thing he's ever seen? He's hiding his affection for her for so long but can't resist her anymore? Thanks!! ✨
With some touches of soft dom, breeding, domestic love and babygirl used for Reader?
𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫
This piece contains 18+ content
pairing joel miller x sunshine reader [friends → lovers]
summary joel’s old enough to know what he wants, and man enough to finally admit it’s you [fluff, yearning, smut (p in v, teasy, soft, dash of overstim as well as the specifics requested above), wc 5.4k]
a/n thank you so much for this amazing request and your patience, anon! i really enjoyed writing this one cause it scratched an itch i didn’t know i had. i love these two so much!
⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂
The breezes have grown surer of themselves. Unabashed in their chill, though they make the trees sway all the same.
Swashes of vibrant colors now stretch amidst the evergreens. Leaves of red, orange, and yellow that don’t take much convincing to surrender from their branches. While out on afternoon patrol, Joel had appreciated the quiet beauty of it all.
After returning Bandit to his stall, he spots you near the entrance of the stables feeding Dakota. When he first rode in, he’d seen other volunteers milling around but none of them were you.
Much like the trees, your skirt catches the wind to reveal the boots you wear beneath. Joel’s cowboy hat shadows his eyes, but you feel the heavy weight of his gaze even before you cast your glance his way. You pass Dakota her last carrot as the gentle thunk of his footsteps quiets several feet away. He tips the brim of his hat when you look up.
“Howdy,” he rumbles. “Figured you’d gone home early or somethin’.”
“So you were looking for me, huh?” Your smile is teasing.
You stroke Dakota’s neck when she presses towards you, though your attention remains on Joel. He clings to the grace of your movements. “How was it out there today?”
Your interest makes him straighten. “Good.” You nod for him to continue when he stops himself. “Looks real nice this time of year with the trees and all. Those forest routes are somethin’ else.”
“Oh, I bet.” There’s a wistfulness to your tone.
You weren’t a part of the patrol team, so it’d been two months since you ventured beyond the wall. Joel had been the one to take you, but the Clickers you encountered dissuaded your eagerness thereafter. He shot each one before they posed any real threat to your lives, but the prospect of what could’ve been was a blemish that lingered in the back of your mind. Only now, as Jackson creeps towards dormancy, had the desire to leave begun to bud anew.
“I can take you.” Joel’s eyes flick across your features. “Whenever you’re ready to get back out there.”
“I’d like that.”
Silence settles in the space between you as he nods. Laughter carries from the near distance. Horses shuffle through hay in their stalls, puff breaths from their noses. Joel lingers as you grant Dakota your undivided attention, petting her while cooing the whole while. He doesn’t realize he’s begun to smile until the pull in his cheeks has grown too great to ignore.
“You’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” you ask her. “My best girl.”
The way you pitch your voice to be airy and saccharine stirs warmth in Joel’s stomach. He could stand around and watch you for hours, which is how he knows it’s time to go on about his way. If it wasn’t so easy to be around you, he’d be a more disciplined man.
“Did Ellie mention I’m helping her out this evening?” you ask.
Joel sets his hands on his hips. “With paint night for the kids?” He thinks a few extra seconds to ensure he doesn’t make a liar out of her. “No.” If she’d told him, he would’ve already planned to be in attendance as opposed to making the decision ten seconds ago.
“That one hardly tells me anything these days.”
You hum in amusement, studying him. There’s a faint rosiness to his cheeks, flecks of gray in his beard. His hair is long enough to peek from beneath his cowboy hat like Tommy’s. He’s rugged. Handsome. Joel studies you in turn. There’s endless life in your eyes along with that discrete sparkle of mischief.
“Guess I’ll see you this evening,” he says.
“You’re coming? Yeah, no, great. Guess I will then,” you ramble. “Should be a lot of fun.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “Should be.”
With a parting tip of his hat, he turns to leave. He figures he’s said all that’s left for him to say. If you two weren’t in different stages in your life and it wasn’t the end of the world, he likes to believe he would’ve been braver a long time ago.
There’s a buzz beneath your skin as you dare to call out to him again, “Wanna see something cool before you go?”
Once upon a time, you wished you knew Joel well enough to call him back to you. To enjoy more of his steady presence. To watch the way his lips moved when he spoke. To see those matured quirks of his up close. Time has granted you access you once dreamed of. Yet, every night when you go home to your uncle’s house and fall asleep alone, it still isn’t enough. These days you cling to every second with him.
Joel starts back your way with that slow, easy stride you’d always rather see coming than going. Curiosity lifts the corners of his lips in a smile you never have to work hard to earn.
When he’s close enough, you pluck his cowboy hat off his head and place it on your own, backpedaling a few paces away with a grin.
Joel pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek to tamp down his instantaneous smile. There’s magic etched into the crinkles by your eyes, the glint of your teeth. He takes a few steps in your direction before he’s decided whether or not he wants his hat back or wants to be closer to you. A squeal as giddy as they come breaks into the air. He stops then, not because he wants to, but because he can feel the curious eyes that have settled on the two of you. If he were a few decades younger, he wouldn’t mind an audience.
“Ain’t gonna chase ya.”
“What if that’s the whole point?”
When Joel starts your way again, you become all the more aware of how broad he is. How much longer his legs are. How many years he’s had to be torn down and strengthened by the world. There’s no chance you’re making it far, but the spark within you dares you to try.
It’s snuffed seconds after it ignites.
A misstep over an uneven plank sends you backwards. Air punches out of your lungs the moment your butt hits the ground.
Joel’s above you in seconds.
“Jesus,” he breathes, gaze filled with concern. “You okay?”
He extends a helping hand, but all you can think to do is hold his hat secure to your head so he can’t snatch it back.
“Ain’t thinkin’ about that,” he says. “Here, c’mon.” He wiggles his fingers.
Joel pulls you to your feet like you’re light as the air. Embarrassment rises to your cheeks with the warmth of a summer’s day.
“Gotta be careful.” Then, softer, “Didn’t hurt anything, did you?”
“Yes.” Joel frowns at that. “My pride.”
A gruff chuckle sneaks up on him. Even then, he looks you over for any signs of discomfort. You still aren’t convinced he can’t see straight down to your marrow. It’d be easier to feel less seen if his gaze wasn’t always so tender.
Like everyone else in Jackson, there was a period when you only ever saw the intensity. Something had changed towards the end of last year, and you haven’t had the courage to acknowledge what.
“If that’s the only thing, I reckon you’ll be okay,” he says.
“I’ll take your word for it.” You place his hat back on his head, pushing it down to cover his eyes, “Cowboy.”
“Good.” Joel readjusts his hat. “Cause I’m gonna need you to be okay.”
He doesn’t backtrack or spin the sincerity of his statement into the fabric of a joke. Both of you are forced to stand there as it lingers in the air and cements into an invisible truth bound to endure. He eventually clears his throat and pushes his hands into his pockets.
“Is that what you wanted to show me?”
All there is to do is offer a shy nod that somehow remains unashamed.
•••
The memory of the night lives in him after it passes. Joel can still hear the chatter, the laughter, paint being squeezed out of tubes, and brushes swirling in water. He can feel your thigh against his, and the sensation of your finger smearing a cool dab of white paint onto the tip of his nose.
A little boy named Thane had dared you, and Joel would never shy away from your touch. Not when you were as delighted as the kids to mess with him without consequence. That’s what happens when you make people feel safe.
Three knocks sound at his front door as he reaches the bottom of the staircase.
It’s you.
“Hi.” Your voice is small like you hadn’t just spent the evening by his side. “You left this masterpiece behind after clean up.”
You hold up a small canvas that features the landscape painting you’d convinced him to do. It teeters towards abstraction, but nonetheless features the Teton Mountains and the colorful trees at their feet.
“Ain’t nothing special.” He opens the door wider, closing it after you step inside.
“It’s not bad.”
“Ain’t good either.”
“I don’t think any of us gave da Vinci a run for his money,” you amend. “I like it, though.” Your sincerity isn’t lost on Joel. “The kiddos loved it.”
“Alright, alright.” Joel chuckles and scratches the back of his neck.
You pass the canvas to him. “Gotta find a good place for it.”
He walks it to the entryway table for now. The hardwood creaks beneath his feet. He’s already changed into his pajamas, plaid bottoms and a gray t-shirt. You’re in jeans and a cable-knit sweater. The stillness of his house washes over you. The refrigerator hums in the kitchen.
As his back is turned, you say, “I’m really glad you came.”
There’s a weight to his gaze when he faces you again. You had a habit of saying things that forced him away from the easy out of neutrality.
Instead of overthinking, he opts for honesty. “Me too,” he decides. “Probably wouldn’t have if you weren’t gonna be there.”
“Guess a little incentive never hurt anybody.” Sparkles dance in your eyes.
“No,” Joel agrees, glancing down to his feet. “Were you, uh, plannin’ on staying over a while?”
You lift a shoulder. “If you’ll have me.”
“You’re always welcome.” It’s the most earnest he’s sounded all evening. “Could use the company.” He can’t read the look that flickers across your face.
“Drink?”
“Water’s fine.” Your small smile eases his nerves.
Joel pours two glasses and joins you on the couch. Pictures of the great American West adorn the living room walls—Yellowstone, Yosemite, the Grand Canyon. A few faded Polaroid photos are also peppered around the space.
“When was that one taken?” You point to a picture of him on the fireplace mantel.
Joel wets his lips and squints because his vision isn’t the same these days. However, the sway of your hips is crystal clear as you spring up to retrieve it.
You sit closer to him than before upon your return. He drapes an arm across the cushion behind you as you assess the photo in silence together. He looks tired and a bit disheveled in the light of the flash, but wears that signature closed-lipped smile packed with fondness. From what you can make of the background, he’s indoors. The dark walnut cabinets suggest a kitchen.
“That was before Jackson. Before all of this.” Reminiscence is thick in his voice. “Had bought Sarah a camera for her thirteenth birthday.” He starts to smile. “Don’t think I’d ever heard her scream that loud.” You smile too.
“She was so over the moon, I thought I’d never be able to outdo myself again.”
Drawn in by the warmth of Joel’s voice, you begin to trace absentminded shapes on his thigh.
“Never did like bein’ in front of the lens, but those puppy eyes got me every time.” A host of other memories ride palpably on his words.
You share a hushed laugh that wanes into a comfortable silence. Joel’s focus drifts to your hand when your palm stills on his thigh to deliver a soft squeeze. He can feel you everywhere. In his head, beneath his skin, consuming him whole. On New Years Day, you’d hugged him for the first time—properly—and there was only ever after that moment. It’d been a freefall since then.
“You still look the same,” you murmur after a while.
Time has etched its passing in some of his features, but it hadn’t completely erased the man he used to be.
“Think so?”
Joel holds his breath when you reach out to run a gentle finger along his hairline, then venture down to follow the curve of his jawline. Your touch is so featherlight, it tickles. His lashes flutter when you trace a finger down the bridge of his nose. When it slides off the tip and lands in the divot of his Cupid’s bow, you proceed to line his lips. Then you pull away.
“A little different,” you amend. “But the same.”
His cheeks are flushed now.
“Think I might’ve been a bit braver back then.” His voice comes out thick.
“I’m sure a few gray hairs haven’t changed much.”
“Think it’s a bit more than a few.”
You shrug. “I don’t mind.”
Months worth of tension expels out of him in the only way his body knows how. A laugh. Even though you join in, he’s convinced he’s the only one who feels laid bare and wanting. He was done for the moment he asked if you intended to stay. You, with all your heart, warmth, and charm. Another hush falls over the room.
For the first time in his life, he can no longer hold your gaze.
“Y’should probably head back home before it gets too late.” Joel’s posture doesn’t match his words. Nor does the warmth in his gut or the pressure in his pants. He forces himself to look at you. “Can walk you, if you’d like.”
“Did I say something wrong?—”
“Listen, sweetheart.” Joel looks sorry for interrupting, but his dark eyes are nevertheless imploring. Even after he has your attention, he takes a few extra seconds to gather himself.
“I’ve taken a liking towards you.”
Time stills. You blink at him.
“I keep tellin’ myself it’ll pass.” He continues when the ghost of a furrow forms between your brows, “But I can’t shake you.”
Your voice comes out quiet but sure, “I feel the same way.”
Joel doesn’t let himself accept your words quite yet.
“You’ve got your whole life ahead of you,” he says. “I promise you don’t wanna get wrapped up in whatever the hell I’ve got going on.”
“Is that your decision to make?” It’s a soft question with a hard punch.
“‘Course not, s’just,” he straightens up and runs a heavy hand down his beard. “You being here like this, touchin’ me… it’s makin’ it difficult for me to keep minding my manners.”
“And that’s my fault?”
That stumps Joel long enough for the corners of your lips to lift just so. Maybe it is a bit funny, all this dancing between the lines when the whole ballroom lies open. He gives you a helpless look that makes him appear years younger, less like a man with all the answers.
“Jus’ don’t wanna ruin a good thing,” he finally says.
You stand to your feet.
“Is me walking out that door the solution?”
His heart sinks like it’s attached to a millstone. Fear, longing, regret, and hope flicker across his face like changing seasons.
“Don’t want it to be,” he murmurs hoarsely.
He peers up at you when you move to stand between his legs. As you run your fingers through his graying curls, his brows furrow and his eyes close like it pains him. It’d been too many moons since someone paid him this much mind. He stops himself from reaching for your hips.
“You can touch me.”
Joel tells himself it’s your permission that drives him to place his heavy hands on your waist. That makes him guide you down to straddle his lap. That makes him press a steady palm to your back so you’re forced to lean forward into his kiss. The permission. Surely not the undercurrent of need in your voice that made him realize he couldn’t let you go without. Surely not his own reservations being thrown to the wayside.
All that exists is his lips, the brush of his beard against your skin, his grip on your waist that you’re certain is the only thing holding you together. Not God or science, just a man. There’s nothing hurried about the way your lips tease and taste, heavy breaths passing between you. Joel kisses with the same steadiness he’s known for everywhere else in his life.
His body is solid beneath you like he’s a new creation who’d never known doubt a day in his life. You’re soft, and warm, and still smell of the fresh mountain air. A small groan catches in the back of his throat when you roll your hips.
Joel hasn’t run this hot in a long time.
He takes the opportunity to catch his breath when you pull away to press kisses along his jawline. Then down his neck where his pulse point flutters with life. He feels like an exposed wire. Left to do nothing but spark and crackle as you scoot to the floor between his legs.
When the smoke clears, the sight before him robs him of his breath again: you on your knees, lips curled upwards in the coyest smile. Him with his legs spread wide, desire proving itself in the bulge at the juncture of his thighs.
To reclaim a semblance of modesty, he adjusts himself and rests a hand over his crotch as a shield. You don’t let him get away with it, grasping his hand to kiss over his scarred knuckles. Joel huffs a flustered sound, caught.
“Lemme take you upstairs,” he insists.
You nuzzle the inside of his knee in feigned objection.
“Upstairs, babygirl,” he says again. “I’ll take real good care of ya.” Then he grows even more forthcoming, “Won’t last if you get those hands or that pretty mouth on me.”
“You won’t?” You palm him and he shudders.
You clench around nothing when he cups your cheek. There’s hopefulness in his big, brown eyes. You turn your head to lazily kiss the meat of his thumb. It feels like an act of mercy when you stand, extending your hand to him so he can get up and lead the way.
•••
Dim lamplight fills the bedroom. Moonlight peeks through the curtains. Joel’s lips are even gentler when they find yours after stripping you bare and bracing himself overtop of you on the matress. One calloused palm slides up your ribcage to gently cup your breasts, thumbing over your pebbled nipples. You keen into the warmth of his bare chest because there’s nowhere else to go. Joel strains into the confines of his briefs.
At your whimper, he parts from your lips with a final peck before he begins his descent. Your chest rises and falls with deep breaths as he kisses down your throat. Across your collarbones. Down the valley of your breasts, and to your midsection. Arousal pools between your legs as he bypasses where you need him most.
It’s him who now lowers himself to the floor. He grunts as his knees pop, but he gets there in the end. The muscles of your inner thigh twitch at the plushness of kiss paired with the scratch of his beard. His breath fans over your core and, for a brief moment, that’s enough. Patience is a virtue. Then he stops. On weak arms, you push yourself to sit upright, peering down at him with fawn eyes.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he rumbles.
Your cheeks grow warm. “I feel that way when you look at me.”
“You are.” He tugs you closer to the edge of the bed. “Every part of you.”
More hot kisses are dotted along your inner thighs. Closer and closer to where you need him until he parts you open with a careful finger. For a moment, he observes. You’re already a mess.
“Mind if I have a taste?” His question leaves him bashful. It’s been a while. For all his confidence, you still knock him off his feet and he wants to make you feel good.
“You can have whatever you want,” you lilt.
A shaky exhale escapes you when he leans forward to run his tongue alongside either side of your seam. Then straight up the middle as you clench. Each time, his tongue stops shy of your clit.
“Joel,” you whine.
Your fingers don’t know what to do when you place your hands on his head.
He kisses and licks through your slick with a languid, exploratory sort of ease, aquiline nose just barely bumping the swollen bud that aches for his attention. That whisper of contact makes you writhe. Joel soothes his hands over your thighs. You tug his hair.
His mouth and chin are wet with you when he lifts his head to meet your pleading gaze.
“What’s wrong?” The tenderness of his voice makes your stomach flip. “You needin’ me somewhere, is that it?”
At last, he presses a light kiss to your clit. Then another, suckling it between his lips on the tail end. It’s enough to make your walls contract. As he begins to lap through your folds again, he nurses that swollen part of you after every few drags of his tongue.
You don’t realize he’s suspended you on the edge until you notice how heavily you’ve begun to breathe, how much you’ve begun to squirm, how quivery your thighs have grown. It’s enthralling, the helplessness and desperation he’s invoked in a matter of minutes. And he hasn’t uttered a single word, just hummed along to your pretty sounds.
“I-I’m close.”
“You close, sweetheart?” he echoes.
You hum a frantic sound of agreement.
Devastation strikes when he stands. Your dazed eyes sweep over his bare chest, the pudge of his belly, down his strong legs. His body is a canvas, bearing scars, and moles, and the lot. You swallow when Joel tucks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pushes them down. His flushed cock bobs upwards as it’s set free.
The air of the room is cool where it meets the pearly bead along his slit. Veins ribbon along his shaft. The line of hair beneath his navel leads to the wiry curls surrounding the base. Just below, his balls hang with a heavy fullness.
He has the nerve to blush, but doesn’t subject himself to your gaze for long. “Scoot back.”
You shakily scramble up the bed. The mattress dips as Joel joins you. Broad-shouldered and longing, he crowds into your space to prop himself overtop of you with care. Electricity buzzes through you as he reaches between your legs to gather your arousal, using the moisture to stroke himself a few relaxed times.
You’re so turned on, a breath of laughter escapes you. Joel’s cock twitches at the sweet sound, the way it makes your chest shake.
“What?” He smiles.
“I really need you,” you murmur.
Joel runs himself through your folds. Each methodical pass taps your puffy clit. Already, he’s worked you back up to the cliff he left you on.
To your dismay, he trades his cock with his fingers. They slip through your slick with ease. There’s no resistance when he pushes one into your warmth, humming when your mouth falls open. After a few steady pumps, he adds another, both curling into you with skillful reverence.
“Feeling good?” he asks, eyes warm.
“I still—” your breath catches he rubs firm, steady circles over your bundle of nerves. “Still need you.”
Joel’s stomach flutters. “M’right here.”
Your face prickles with the beginnings of frustration. “Please?”
He eases his fingers out of you. “Said I was gonna take care of you, right?”
“Yes,” you croak.
“So let me.”
Joel grabs his base and returns to your folds. Tears prick in your eyes. You’re frayed around the edges, every nerve at alert.
“Know you’re aching,” he purrs. “I’m achin’ too.”
With a steady push, he eases into the warmth of your cunt.
“Thank you,” you sigh in relief.
The ridge of his plump mushroom tip is as far as he gets before your climax catches you by surprise. Joel groans as you whimper, fluttering around the head of his cock.
“You’re welcome,” he manages, pressing in further.
There’s hardly any distinction between the pleasure of your release and the pleasure of him filling you. It’s a continuous swell that you tremble through. You close your eyes to find solace in the dark.
“That’s it.”
“Almost there.”
“There you go, babygirl.”
Joel’s reassurances sound unreal and far away. When your eyes reopen, he’s fully sheathed. He swipes your tears away as you adjust.
“You’re okay,” he whispers.
You nod.
“You trust me?”
You shake your head, but a wobbly smile pulls at your lips.
Joel’s chest shakes with a low chuckle. “Yes you do.” He slips a hand between your bodies to rub a few chastising circles where you’re most sensitive.
Your gasp is cut off with a slow kiss. When you shift your hips to encourage him to move, Joel stills you with a strong hand and sets his own rhythm. It’s better than whatever you were attempting to spur. There’s no helping the way your back arches, how your hands grip along his arms like they’re your tether to Earth.
One of your hands strays to his chest, fingertips brushing through the sparse hair. Then your palm flattens against it like you’re debating pushing him away.
“You can take it,” Joel assures. Then his voice softens, “Know it feels good.”
There’s so much of him. Everything about him is so much, you knew that before tonight. Heads turn towards him in every room he enters. When he speaks, people listen and things change.
“So good,” you sigh.
The squelch of your bodies fills the room. Joel makes the mistake of looking to the place where you’re joined, and curses himself a million times over. He glimmers in you. Even though you’re tender and swollen, there’s a greed to the way you continue to suck him in. Stars shine in your eyes when he meets your gaze. Sweet, and gone, and bright.
Maybe this is what the stories of old warned of when they spoke of flying too close to the sun. Here he was in the midst of the flames, enveloped in your warmth so wholly that the two of you were one. After tonight, everyone in Jackson would see the mark you left behind. It was haughty to think he ever stood a chance.
“M’close,” he groans.
You look directly into his eyes and say, “Fill me up.”
Your voice sounds too caught up in the clouds for you to have realized the gravity of your request. Yet, with his hand to God, he can’t deny the surge of eagerness that courses through him.
He gives you a second chance, “Where do you want me?”
You hold his gaze because you’ve already supplied your answer. Dizziness strikes him. It starts in his head and works its way down to his gut. Joel makes to pull out before he does something unwise, but you hook your legs around the backs of his thighs to keep him near.
Sweat dots his hairline, glistens in the divot of his sternum. “Can’t say stuff like that, babygirl.”
A lopsided smile stretches across your face. “I hope it’s a girl.”
Every rational inclination in Joel’s body dilutes to a whisper. Then he sees it. Rogue flashes. His hands cradling your rounded belly. A baby girl with your eyes, your smile, your joy. A family. More laughter within these lonely four walls. He loses himself to the fantasy.
“Goddammit.” He touches his forehead to yours. “Me too—shit. Me too.”
Joel’s thrusts deepen like he’s taken your words to heart. An unashamed moan falls past your lips. You guide him in for a clumsy, loving kiss. His thumb works clit until you arch beneath him, falling into the thralls of another release. One clamp after another, you pulse around him as he sees you through the relentless waves of pleasure.
“Christ, I’m comin’.”
The fantasy begins to fade.
Your legs have fallen from around him, lax with pleasure, so there’s no resistance as he slips from your warmth like he was never really there.
All that’s left to attest that he was is your swollen folds, the shine of his cock. He strokes himself with a firm fist until his stomach tenses. Until his balls draw upwards, and he surrenders to the inexplicable tug of outward-rushing pleasure. A restrained grunt accompanies each strong rope of his release onto your skin. Low on your tummy, the top of your mound. You admire the scrunch of his face as he shudders through the aftershocks.
The soreness in his biceps registers as he comes down. He kisses your forehead, your cheek, then rolls to collapse alongside you. Trembling when you reach over to take him in your hand, stroking him a few knowing times before you move to massage his balls.
“I’m all done, sweetheart,” he rasps, tucking his nose into your shoulder, kissing you there.
You pull away, but not without letting a lone finger sneakily grace along his shaft one last time.
“Wanted you to come inside,” you murmur after a few quiet moments.
And you truly did, a two minutes ago when having his baby didn’t seem like as big of a deal. You repeat it now as a temperature check more than anything.
“You think you did,” he corrects.
“I did.”
He believes you a little more this time.
“‘Member what I said about not wanting to ruin a good thing?”
“A baby wouldn’t—”
“That ain’t what I’m suggestin’.” Joel props himself on his forearm and tenderly traces along the underside of your breast. The furrow between his brows lets you know he’s deep in thought.
“Let’s get to know each other. Truly.” His fingers move to the other side of your chest. “No more of this dancing between the lines.”
He pauses to make sure you’re still with him. “Lemme take you to dinner—hell, all the things. Start over and do this right.”
Joel’s fingertips brush down to your tummy, avoiding where his spend is gathered. “Then I’ll come wherever you want me to.”
A shiver runs down your spine at his touch, his words.
He finally lets his fingers pass through his sticky spend, running them down between your thighs. Your legs startle closed as they bump over the swell of your clit and brush through your folds.
“Joel.” Your hips shift, oversensitive but his touch still feels good. “Okay, okay, okay.”
He pulls away and kisses your temple. “That was just payback,” he murmurs, a smile in his voice. “You alright?” The question is much kinder.
You nod, entirely too satisfied. Entirely spent.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” You watch as he stands on shaky legs to head to the bathroom.
“Joel?”
He stops, faces the bed again.
“Everything you said,” you start, taking all his nakedness in. “I’d like that too.”
To begin again; what a lovely gift to come about in the night.
-
Thanks so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!
📢 Orgs to consider donating to for t-giving: alight (refugee support), cultural survival (indigenous rights advocacy)
5.7k words, Joel x f!reader x Tommy | sequel here!
Tommy and Joel Masterlist
A/N: ONE SHOT. I had to get it out of my system after that Uncle Tommy line I wrote in Left in Lincoln (Narrator: It never got out of her system). Ty to everyone who's been supportive. 🖤 Multiple fic recs at the bottom!
WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap, darkish miller bros, dubcon (coaxing/pressure, you aren't sure what Joel allows), use of "daddy," sharing, unsafe p in v (individually and together), oral, jacking off, creampies, cucking, MFM, DP (double vag), light degradation, praise, pet names, foot massage. AU where you don't overthink this fic. You’re happy with Joel, but it’s not a healthy relationship with clear communication and boundaries. Joel carries reader. TW: incidental incest via MFM/DVP - If this isn't for you, please quietly move along.
🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂
Joel squats down with one hand on the back of your chair. He admires your face then cups your cheek. “Gotta do somethin’, baby. Won’t be back tonight.” The casual announcement makes your heart race. He kisses you on the forehead, then stands up.
“What do you mean you won’t be back tonight?”
“It’s okay, baby. Uncle Tommy’s gonna stay with ya.”
Your face gets hot. Tommy tilts his head down and smiles at you from across the breakfast table. He raises his glass of juice in acknowledgement, but you don’t look at him. You look squarely at Joel, caught off guard by his plans.
“Daddy,” you whine. “Just lemme come with you.”
“Ain’t that kinda trip, darlin’.”
“Why can’t he do it?”
Tommy laughs silently and his voice goes up an octave. “What’sa matter, sweetheart? Don’t wanna hang out?” He tilts his head and smiles, then his normal voice returns. “That’s okay.” There's a glimmer in his eye.
Joel grabs his jacket and kisses you goodbye, then says, “Don’t have too much fun without me,” and winks at Tommy. Then Joel's gone, just like that. Your tummy feels nervous as his truck starts, then drives away.
-
It's Thanksgiving week. You have a lot to be thankful for. Joel loves you and takes good care of you. You have solar power and a nice farm with a secure perimeter. Tommy is visiting for the holiday. You met Tommy long ago, but this week is the first time you've spent much time together.
Joel would kill any other man for touching you, but apparently he's different about Tommy. You're still figuring out how that works. Joel doesn't seem to mind what Tommy sees–or feels–when the three of you are together. But what about when you're alone?
Does Joel know Tommy walked by the bedroom window and saw you undressing? Does he know Tommy came to apologize for that when you were fresh out of the shower, and saw you in a towel? Or that he looked you up and down, asked if Joel was treating you right, then gave a low whistle and adjusted himself before he left? Or that you touched yourself almost as soon as he closed the door?
*******
Last night, Joel put you in Tommy's lap in the armchair to give you a foot massage, and you tried not to react when Tommy got hard. “It's ok,” Tommy whispered with his hands on your hips. He pulled you back against his hard bulge with a soft grunt and it gave you a shock of desire.
“It's ok, darlin,” Joel echoed, kneeling at your feet. Joel placed your heel on his own hardening package as he worked on the ball of your foot.
Tommy's hand cupped your breast and you tensed.
Joel glanced up. “Relax, baby. It's just Uncle Tommy.”
“It's ok,” Tommy whispered again into your hair as his other hand crept up your thigh, higher and higher, until his thumb grazed your panties. Joel continued massaging you, unbothered, then switched to the other foot.
Tommy's thick fingers glided over your panties and you twitched as he felt the dampness. He lifted his hips with a soft grunt, then cleared his throat. “gonna take care of your girl tonight, Joel? She's drippin’ like a faucet.” Your cheeks burned, and Tommy ran his hand down your thigh.
Joel smiled with half his mouth as he glanced up. “makin’ a mess already?” Joel shook his head. “Close your legs, darlin'.”
Your stomach dropped and you stammered, “sorry, uh . . .”
But as soon as you closed your legs, Tommy lifted your dress up, making your whole body tingle with goosebumps. Joel’s face gave away nothing as he looked past you at Tommy. For a moment, you thought Tommy had gone too far. Then Joel hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and Tommy held you back against his chest as Joel slid them off. Joel spread your knees, and Tommy's, and knelt between them, closer.
With his armpits resting over your thighs, Joel looked at your cunt hungrily and spread you open with his thumbs. You tilted your hips for him, feeling yourself gush. “Good girl,” he murmured, then planted his right forearm on your lower belly. With his right fingers pointing down, he ran them through your dripping folds, then drew in a deep breath through his nose before bringing his mouth between your legs.
Joel lapped at your weeping hole and sucked your clit. He fingered you and made out with your cunt like it was just another night, like he was getting ready to fuck you. Meanwhile, Tommy lightly grinded into your ass, breathing warm and wet into your hair and holding you gently in his strong arms as Joel devoured your pussy. Tommy rocked you gently on his lap, rocking you into Joel’s mouth. Joel ate you out at the same rhythm. When you came, Tommy’s arousal pressed harder against you and he grabbed your breast. He cooed, “good girl.”
Joel didn't seem to mind, and it felt really good, but you got self conscious after you finished. Tommy caressed your arm as Joel wiped his mouth off. “I'm sleepy, daddy,” you looked at him with big eyes.
Joel looked at you fondly, squeezed your thigh, and said, “I know, darlin’. Give Uncle Tommy a kiss goodnight.” You turned around and kissed him on the cheek, then mumbled “goodnight” without meeting his eyes.
—
Joel scooped you up in his arms. You went to bed with Joel and only Joel. As soon as he laid you down, you asked, “you're not mad about Tommy touching me?”
“Felt good, didn't it?”
You gave a small nod.
“Nice havin’ four hands.” Joel raised his eyebrows and left it at that.
You eyed the protrusion in his jeans. “I'm comin’, baby,” he reassured you as he unzipped them. He pulled his jeans and boxers down together and his massive erection sprang free. He prowled across the bed, settled between your legs, and you raised your knees, tilting your hips for him. “Good girl,” he whispered as he got himself into place.
“God damn, even wetter now,” he muttered as he gathered your slick on his fingers and wiped it on his stiff cock. His tip prodded your dripping hole, then he pushed inside with a sigh, making you moan as he split you open. Joel bottomed out, and the sound that came out of his chest was somewhere between a grunt and a groan, “Uungghh.” You whimpered in pleasure. Then, through the thin wall, you heard Tommy cum with a deep moan. Joel chuckled, then bowed his head and kissed you, pausing all the way inside.
Joel kissed you softly as he buried his length in you, and your lips broke away only to whimper, “Daddy.”
“Yeah, baby doll,” he whispered into the pillow, right by your ear. “Daddy’s here.” You wrapped your legs around him as he fucked you deep and slow. You imagined Tommy lying behind you, grinding against you, whispering “good girl,” copping a feel as Joel fucked you. You moaned and whimpered under Joel as he brought you to the brink again. Then, as your wet little pussy fluttered around his cock, he groaned and bottomed out to fill you with his seed.
**********
Now it’s morning, Joel's gone, and you're left alone with his brother. His brother with the sweet smile, soft voice, and big dick that felt so hard against you. Don't have too much fun without me, Joel said. . . With a wink. Unsure what to do with that, you avoid Tommy for most of the day, and he doesn't make you hang out with him. He works in the yard and you catch a few glimpses. He gets hot and takes off his flannel, exposing his wifebeater and oversized belt buckle. As he dabs his forehead with his shirt, his bicep swells and the veins on his hand bulge.
Tommy comes in and takes a shower in the other bathroom. There’s a knock on your bedroom door, then it opens. You’re not sure why you didn’t lock it. Tommy’s wearing jeans, boxers, and nothing else. Your eyes linger on his strong chest. He leans with his hand against the door frame. “Think Joel would let me borrow a shirt? Wasn’t plannin’ to work up a sweat,” he chuckles.
Tommy crosses his muscular arms over his thick, bare chest as you get a white t-shirt out of Joel's dresser and toss it to him. Tommy’s jeans ride down as he lifts his arms and puts the shirt on in front of you. He catches you looking as his head comes through the hole, then he rakes his fingers through his curls. A subtle smile forms, his eyes twinkle, and he gives you a little nod before he walks away.
—
Later, you're taking a bath. You sigh as you sink into the water. Then there's a click as the doorknob lock is effortlessly picked. The door opens and Tommy smiles at you with his eyes, biting his bottom lip. He closes the door behind him. The tub squeaks as you quickly pull up your knees to cover your breasts.
“Musta been touchin’ yourself, huh?” he chuckles as he approaches the tub. “Don't stop on my account.” He winks and his eyes fall on your legs. You scooch them closer together in case he can see through the bathwater.
Your chest feels warm. You look down and away.
Tommy takes a seat on the tiled floor in front of the garden tub. “C’mon sweetheart, don't be shy.” his arm moves out of view, unbuttoning his jeans. Your nipples harden. He tilts his head to peek from the side and smiles.
“What do you want?” you ask softly and a low squeak echoes as you shift in the tub.
“Wanna see ya do it. Go on, finish what ya started.”
“I wasn't.”
“There's no shame in it, sweetheart”
You swallow and look down.
He studies your face and repeats, “Nothin' to be ‘shamed of. You know that. Right?”
“Tell your brother that,” you whisper and instantly regret it. You pinch your eyes shut and add, “No, don't. . .Please.”
“Oh shit,” Tommy whispers. “Ya can’t, can ya?”
You barely shake your head, eyes still closed.
Tommy chuckles. “Controlling fucker, ain't he?”
You look at Tommy and your eyes widen with some defiant glimmer of hope. “God damn,” he whispers. “keepin’ his girl from touchin’ herself.” He looks down and shakes his head in disapproval.
He smiles apologetically. “Guess Daddy knows best, huh?” He tugs his jeans off, and you watch unabashed. As his pants come off, his boxers ride down, exposing his short, dark pubic hair. You can’t help but admire the way his thigh muscles swell out from his boxers.
He palms himself over the fabric and raises his eyebrows. “Wanna see it, don’t ya?” He smiles knowingly at you.
You don’t answer. He shows you anyway, pulling the waistband down under his balls. He's neatly trimmed and his balls are big. He's engorged but not fully hard.
“Do me a favor and spit in my hand, sweetheart.” He holds it out in front of you. You look back and forth between his eyes, then his freckles. He's a handsome man. His hand stays there, waiting patiently. You gather saliva in your mouth, tilt your head forward, and let it drop into his palm.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
He wraps his hand around his cock and You look into the bath water as his eyes devour your body. In the corner of your eye, you can see him at full mast. He breathes heavier, then moves positions. He sits with his right side against the tub, facing you. He strokes himself with his left hand and dips his right hand into the water. You flinch away then try to relax. The backs of Tommy’s fingers graze your calf under the water. You squeeze your thighs together.
“Don't get shy on me now, cupcake.” He reaches behind your calf and touches the back of your leg, near your ass. Your legs involuntarily part. He wouldn't do anything Joel wouldn't like. Would he? Somehow the tension of the situation is only making you want it more. His fingers creep between your legs and caress your inner thigh crease. He sucks in a chest full of air, then gets on his knees. He brings his left hand to your mouth again for lube.
“Good girl.” The squelch of his hand around his cock echoes with the new moisture. He searches your face as half his mouth breaks into a smile. He holds your inner thigh as he jacks off. Then he straightens your leg so he can see your body better. “God damn,” he murmurs, and the sound of his voice is sharpened by the tile. He rubs your thigh, spits into his other hand, keeps tugging at his cock, then when he's close, he gets up and sits on the edge of the tub. It’s impossible not to look at his stiff, angry cock, glistening with your combined saliva. You still have one knee bent above the water–the knee furthest from him.
He pumps himself and stands up to face you. “You wanna know how I taste?” He asks.
You hesitantly shake your head no, unsure if it would be crossing a line. “Okay, sweetheart. Don't have to.” He aims his cock at the water over your lap, then closes his eyes and groans. “Ohh, God. ohhhh,” it lands sharply in your ears as he erupts. Silky ropes of cum dance in the water, some of it wrapping around your thigh. When he's finished, he pulls his boxers back up, then his jeans, but doesn't zip them up. He sits on the edge of the tub again, leans over it, and kisses you on the forehead. Then he whispers in your ear, “I'll make dinner.”
—-
You eat together at the kitchen table. There's a cornucopia centerpiece. The scant conversation is about winter and gardening, until he reaches under the table and squeezes your thigh. You want him so bad, you blurt out, “what’s happening?”
He replies, “Huh?” with his hand still on your thigh.
You search Tommy’s face. “You said it yourself, he’s controlling.” You shift in your chair and he takes his hand back. You continue, “Why doesn’t he care if you. . .”
“Ah,” Tommy smiles down at his plate. “Well. . .” He turns his chair to face you instead of the table. He sits back and manspreads, and his hands rest on his thighs. “I’m just another body to love ya with, sugar.” His eyes drift to the cornucopia. “And I sure am thankful for it.”
His eyes return to you, and your heart flutters.
“He can love on ya when he ain’t here, even.” One of his hands slides up his own thigh to rest closer to his groin. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and nods, admiring you as he slowly exhales. His eyes are darker.
A desperate want is stirring in your belly. It seems too good to be true. You abruptly announce, “I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”
“Okay, cupcake. C’mere,” Tommy opens his arms.
You stand between his legs, bend forward, put your arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek. As you pull your head back, his hands on your hips pull you into sitting on his thigh. He brings a hand to your cheek, and it melts you. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ he wouldn’t want,” he reassures you.
You nod.
“End up on the wrong side of the dirt,” he chuckles. When you don’t laugh, he clarifies, “Me, not you. He’d never hurt ya, cupcake.”
Then he cradles your head with both hands, studying your eyes and lips. He wets his lips, and your lips part, watching him. Half his mouth twitches. You’re warm all over. He leans in and looks at your mouth again, getting closer. When you can practically feel the heat of his lips on yours, you close the gap and feel a rush of need when your mouths come together. His lips are soft, and the kiss is tender. You pull away after two seconds.
“Goodnight,” you whisper.
—---
You lie in bed missing Joel, wishing he would come home. You feel more at ease with the two of them. Your mind drifts to Tommy. At this rate, you wish he would stay. You’re almost asleep when the bedroom door creaks open.
“Daddy?” When you turn over, the moonlit silhouette is Tommy's. He's only wearing boxers and there's already a tent in them. He lifts the covers, and the mattress dips under his weight.
You ask, “What are you doing?”
“'S’okay, cupcake, I told ya. Promise he won’t be mad.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Your daddy and I been sharin’ our toys for fifty years.”
Your stomach turns, but Tommy adds, “You're the most special of all, ya know.” He scoots closer. “Never seen him in love before.”
You feel your body warming and opening up for him.
“He wants ya to get what ya need, baby,” Tommy whispers.
Your heart pounds.
“Even told me your secret word,” Tommy adds.
“He did?”
“If ya really want me to stop, all ya gotta say is Appleseed.” How would he know that unless Joel told him?
You turn away from Tommy and he doesn't waste any time before spooning you. His strong arm rests over you and his hand cups a breast. He kisses your neck, soft and wet. The thick, warm rod in his boxers grazes your lower back as he tongues your delicate skin. He kisses your neck with increasing passion, and he kneads your breast. Then his arousal fully presses against you through his boxers and your nightgown.
He curves his body around you and pulls you back into him. He sighs and his engorged cock twitches against your crack, giving you a surge of desire. He slides his hand into your nightgown from the top to palm your naked breast and sighs as he grinds against you.
“God damn, sweetheart,” he whispers as your nipple hardens against his palm. He takes his hand out of your nightgown and cups your breast on top of it again, then his hand slowly slides down your sleepwear, feeling every inch of your torso before arriving at your bare thigh. He nudges his fingers under the hem of your nightgown and slides his hand up your thigh. When his hand reaches your pussy, your top leg lifts ever so slightly, spreading your thighs to make room for him. You're not wearing underwear.
“Good girl,” he whispers. You’re aching to have him inside you. “Drippin’ for me ain't ya, baby?”
He circles your clit, and you moan softly. There's a wet spot on his boxers pressing into you. “Fuck” he mutters and backs up his hips. “Damnit, I’m drippin’, too,” he chuckles. “Takin’ these off.”
After taking his boxers off, Tommy hovers over you and you’re still on your side. Tommy's hand comes back to your breast, and you turn your face toward his. Your lips meet, and after two seconds, you don’t pull away. His lips push yours open and you accept his tongue. You breathe through your nose as he licks into your mouth.
Tommy pulls back and reads your face, then gives you another soft kiss before settling in behind you, against you, curled around you again. His naked cock is smooth and warm against your ass. He grinds against you for a minute as he massages your breast and moans into your hair. Then his hand drifts down between your legs and he groans at how wet you are.
“I gotta be in ya, sugar.” Tommy backs up and wedges his rigid cock between your thighs, and it glides smoothly through your mess of arousal. His tip reaches your clit. You’re throbbing needily. Your hips tilt on their own, offering him your hole.
“Fuck,” Tommy says as his tip finds your entrance. “Fuck. That’s right, baby.” he pushes his tip into you. You're dying for it, but you're still a little tense and it's making you even tighter.
“God damn, you feel good. Can't imagine when he first–.” He pushes into you, trying to let your body relax and accommodate his girth. “Oh shit, mmm–that musta been–Fuck.” He pushes a little further. “Relax for me, baby.” He withdraws some then thrusts further into you. “Relax, sugar,” he whispers. “Just breathe.” You take a deep breath and relax. The last of him slides in and he bottoms out. “Ohh, good girl. There we go.” He palms your breast and you melt into him. “We’re right here, baby.”
He’s got you speared on his cock, spread apart by his girth. “God damn. What a good girl.”
With his cock fully sheathed, his thick fingers rub circles on your nipple. You moan, twitching around the new cock buried in the hot center of your body. “Mmm,” he growls into your hair, still not moving. You need friction. He breathes deeply. “breathe with me, baby.” You breathe with him and feel yourself relax more.
“Please,” you whine, beginning to move your hips.
His voice is husky. “God damn. Look at ya, sugar. Fuckin’ yourself on Uncle Tommy’s cock?”
“Please,” you whimper again.
“What's your daddy gonna think?”
Your walls twitch and your heart skips a beat. “You said–”
“Yeah. . .He'll be fine, sweetheart..” Tommy begins to move his hips. “He’d be proud’a ya, takin’ this cock like such a good girl.”
He begins to fuck you at a steady rhythm, breathing heavily and cursing softly. You begin to relax with his hand mapping the front of your body, and his stiff cock thrusting into you. He palms your tit again and your head tilts back against him. He kisses your neck, and your body opens for him even more. Your cunt swallows him up with every thrust.
“Ohh, Joel's a lucky man,” he pants with his dick easily sliding into you, making you whole. “Shit, I'm lucky, too–uggh.” You push back on him as he fills you with his stiff cock.
He asks, “Little harder?”
“Mm,” you nod.
He slams into you and you moan.
“Yeah, that's our girl.”
Soon, you’re lost in the pleasure of Tommy’s thick cock pounding you.
The front door unlocks and you freeze. You’re both facing away from the bedroom door. “‘S’okay,” Tommy reminds you. He slows his hips, then bottoms out and pauses. “C’mere,” he wraps his arms around you and with his cock still inside, he rolls over on his back, then sets you down on your other side, arms still wrapped around you, his cock only sliding out half way in the process.
As soon as you’re settled, he bottoms out again with a soft moan. You and Tommy are both facing the bedroom door now. The covers are down around your waist. The handle moves, then the door opens. The silhouette is Joel with his sleeves rolled up.
—---
As Joel approaches the bed, the moonlight hits him and his face is dark.
“She’s so good, Joel,” Tommy pants, with you still full of his cock.
Joel comes to the bed and crouches down. “God damn.” Joel gently takes your jaw in his hand and tilts his head. He studies your face, then his eyes land on yours affectionately. “Couldn't go one day, could ya?” He smiles with his eyes and relief washes over you.
“M’sorry daddy,” you sigh. “Are you mad?”
“No, baby.” Tommy is fucking you slowly. “I ain't mad.” Joel slowly stands up and palms himself over his jeans as he watches your body move to the slow rhythm of Tommy’s thrusts.
“Really?”
“Baby, I keep ya stuffed so full’a cock. . . can't blame ya for needin’ it.”
“Yeah,” you whimper.
“That's what Uncle Tommy's here for,” Tommy whispers.
“Now I get to see ya,” Joel says “All of ya,” Joel gently pulls the covers all the way off. Then Joel tugs up at the hem of your nightgown and kneels down to take it off you.
You try to move forward, reaching for Joel, but Joel puts his hand on your bare chest and Tommy pulls you back, bottoming out again with a moan.
“Want yours,” you whimper.
“Shhh. You're gonna get it.”
You watch Joel take off all his clothes, and as he does it, he watches you moving at a slow rhythm. When Joel’s naked, he spits in his hand. He stands by the bed watching you get fucked by his brother, taking in the view as he squeezes his cock.
“Daddy, please,” you whine.
Joel sits down on the bed. Tommy scooches back to make more room and brings you back with him, still impaled on his cock. Joel lies down and faces you. He gets right up against you, and the first thing he does is kiss you. His hard cock lays against your clit and mound, throbbing for you. You moan into his mouth as Tommy’s cock drags slowly inside you from behind.
Joel’s arm wedges between your back and Tommy’s chest, grabbing hold of you. Joel nudges you upward. Tommy takes the hint and pulls out. You wrap your leg over Joel’s hip. His eyes scan your face, marveling at your feral want. Joel’s hand, still on your back, slides down your ass and hooks under it, between your legs, feeling your sopping wet cunt from the back. “God damn, baby. This all you or did Uncle Tommy cum already?”
“Not yet,” Tommy answers.
Joel’s tip slides through your folds, then he pulls back and notches himself at your entrance. He moves his hand to your hip, and pushes into you with a sigh. You're so wet and aroused, he sinks all the way into you. “Fuck,” Joel breathes. “oh, yeah—ugghh–swallowed me right up, baby.” He marvels at how relaxed you are. With Joel’s arm out of the way, Tommy’s tummy returns flush against your back, with his hard, wet cock pressing against your ass cheek. He grabs your tit.
Joel buries his cock in you. “Oh baby, you love this, don’t ya?”
You nod. “Love your cock, daddy.”
“You’re takin’ it so good, baby. Think you’re wet enough for—ohh, darlin’.” He grinds against you, deep inside you. “You wanna ride this cock, baby?”
You nod. Joel slides out of you and you whimper at the loss as he rolls onto his back. Joel lies face up and holds his cock for you. He whispers, “C’mere baby,” but you're already on your way.
You straddle him and sink right down on him with a whimpered, “daddy,” then bend forward, putting your tits against Joel’s chest. Tommy’s slowly stroking himself and watching.
“C’mere,” Joel whispers and reaches for your head. He pulls your face into his for a passionate kiss as you grind into him with his cock buried in you. It only takes a few seconds of grinding into Joel for your walls to spasm.
“Oh god,” he mutters as you contract around him. “oh—oh, God, baby.”
As you finish coming on Joel's cock, your whole body relaxes. You’re even wetter and more open than you were before. “Now you’re–oh yeah, you’re good,” Joel whispers to himself with his hands on the backs of your thighs. You both breathe for a moment and you begin to slowly move again.
Joel licks his finger then reaches over your ass, his hand approaching your hole from behind. You stop moving as he gently wedges the thick digit into your cunt from the top so his fingernail is against his cock. “Yeah,” he whispers, moving the finger around, checking how much you'll stretch. “Yeah,” he says as his head turns and he glances at Tommy.
Joel cups your cheek and reads your face. “Can I fuck ya with two cocks, baby?”
You spasm with an aftershock. “It won't fit,” you protest, but the thought of it turns you on. Your hips begin to move again. You're taking his cock and his finger.
“Can we find out, baby doll?” Joel asks.
You slowly move on his cock and finger, with your face close to his. Your clit is throbbing. “You aren't worried to stretch me?”
“You'll snap right back, baby,” Joel pants as he wedges another finger in with his cock.
“I dunno if I can,” you whine.
“It’s okay, darlin’. Let's find out.”
“Okay,” you whisper.
Tommy gets up on his knees and gets close to Joel's shoulder, near your head.
“Get it nice and wet,” Joel tells you.
Without getting off Joel's cock, you turn your head enough to accept Tommy's cock into your mouth. You let saliva pool under your tongue, then swirl it all over his shaft until he's dripping. “alright” Tommy whispers, then you deposit the rest of the saliva from under your tongue. “Alright, don't make me cum, sweetheart.”
Tommy straddles Joel’s legs behind you while Joel hugs you close.
Tommy nudges your occupied hole. Joel slowly removes his fingers and Tommy’s tip finds its place between the first cock and the back wall of your cunt. Once Tommy's tip is nestled there, Joel’s fingers leave you and both his hands hold your sides.
“Deep breath,” Tommy whispers. You draw in a chest full of air, and when you begin to exhale, he begins to push in.
It burns for a moment as Tommy’s cockhead breaches your dripping hole, but his smooth, wet cock feels better than the fingers. “Fuck,” Tommy mutters as he pushes further.
“Daddy,” you whimper. “It's a lot.”
“I know it is, darlin’, you're doin’ so good.”
“Breathe with me, sweetheart,” Tommy whispers. You take deep breaths and try to relax. The burn fades as your body catches up. The stretch is only a little uncomfortable around their shafts at the very edge of you. Deeper inside, you feel a fullness you couldn't have imagined.
“Good,” Joel says. “doin’ real good, baby. You wanna keep goin’?”
You nod. You take deep breaths and bow your head as Tommy sinks in a little more.
“God damn, baby. Packed full of it, ain’t ya?”Joel marvels. The look on his face makes you twitch.
You lock eyes with Joel, bite your lip, and nod. Joel tilts his hips down toward the bed and you groan into Joel’s chest as Tommy pushes into you as much as he can. The burn is fading, and the sense of fullness overwhelms you in the best way. It's not just physical. You close your eyes and savor it. Joel’s hips begin to move. He slides against your front wall, nudging just the right place, making you whimper.
Tommy slides in rhythm, and his breathing is labored. “Ohhh,” he moans. “Shit-–ugggh.” He warns Joel, “I'm pretty close, brother.”
Joel looks like he's making a calculation behind his eyes. Then he reads your face. “You want double the cum, baby?”
You nod.
“That's my girl,” Joel whispers. “That’s my perfect lil girl.” His hips wiggle under you.
“Ohh-fff-uuggh” Tommy pants and pulls back.
Joel moves his hips and slides within your stuffed hole. Tommy stays still while Joel thrusts a few small strokes and you groan. Tommy pushes forward and you sigh. Joel kisses you. You push back and Tommy slides forward. Joel does another slow thrust upward, then Tommy says “fuck,” pushes another inch, then begins to cum. “Oh god,” Tommy groans. His dick pulses and pulses in your packed cunt as his warm release coats your walls and Joel's cock.
“Jesus,” Tommy sighs, then begins to pull out of you. The burn returns as the crown of his tip crests your entrance on its way out. Then you whimper in relief. There's a sense of loss as your body slowly draws itself back in, but it's a major comfort still being wrapped around Joel's cock. Tommy lies down on his back to recover.
“You did so good baby,” Joel brushes your cheek and his hips lift as your body adjusts itself back to his girth. “Ya like havin’ two cocks?” It’s the first time you haven’t felt packed full from Joel’s cock alone, and your temples feel weak.
You nod hesitantly. “Do I still feel good?”
“Oh darlin’, you feel so good,” he breathes and the tension melts away from your face.
“Yeah, I liked it,” you whisper. “But I only need one.”
He cradles your head and it feels like it's just the two of you. “Love you so much,” he whispers, and brings your face to his again, rolling his hips under you. He kisses you deeply and grinds up into you with his cock all the way inside. Your mouth breaks away with a moan, and your hips begin to move, bringing an obscene squelching sound with them.
“Oh darlin’,” Joel whispers, and he pulls you back into a kiss. He grunts into your mouth with a sharp thrust upward, and the tension boils over. You begin to clench around him. Joel breaks the kiss with a shudder, then he moans your name as you flutter around his cock. His fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you flush, then pulses with a groan. “Ohhhh, fuck—ohhh,” he sighs as he releases a massive load, more than doubling the cum inside you. The rhythm of Joel’s cock soothes you as his load combines with Tommy's.
—--
You stay on Joel’s cock for a few minutes, and he strokes your back, praising you quietly. Tommy falls asleep. Eventually you sigh and whine, "I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Ok, baby,” Joel whispers and begins to help you off his cock.
When you come back, Joel helps you into bed between them. You face Joel and he kisses you good night. You feel thankful for him as you drift off to sleep.
—-
sequel here
-
-
Thank you for reading 🖤 I know people want updates on certain Joels but I haven't been having the easiest time and sometimes writing something new is lower-pressure.
Uncle Tommy is a brain worm I've had for a couple months ever since I blurted it out in another series.
I have another recent Joel x reader ft. Tommy with a different set miller bros: leopard print
And a darker Tommy x reader here: birds of prey
-----
FIC RECS
If you like brotherly sharing, a couple of my personal favorites are
I can be your pretty girl part 4, and part 5 by (RIP) walkintotheriveranddisappear who sadly inactivated
Liquid Gold and its prequel Two Hands to Hold by @gasolinerainbowpuddles,
If you like the idea of daddy/uncle, @bonezone44 has Joel, tommy, and Ezra.
More brotherly sharing - Smack My Bitch Up, a raider AU by @milla-frenchy.
If you wanna suck Tommy's big balls, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin has you covered.
More fic recs (and more to come) on my rec blog @toxicrecs.
Alright I tried to bring my tag list back and something went wrong so I might have to remove them from the post sorry 🥲
Warnings: Suggestive themes; implied poorly written smut; TWD-centric themes; allusions to violence
Summary: In a dying world, it all comes down to your crown or your heart.
A/N: This started out as an entirely different concept to the tune of You Should See Me in a Crown. But then the muse said “nope, go this way.” Also, Idc what country a story I write takes place in, Daryl is gonna have a southern drawl. 😂
You were the mistake the king and his court never quite learned how to correct. He loved you. Well, at least you assumed he did. Maybe you would have known for sure had you ever cared about seeking his approval. It hardly mattered. The people loved you. You were a dash of color in a world of royal black and white.
Of all the children the queen bore, you were the last. The youngest princess. The unmanageable one. Too loud in council halls. Too sharp with questions. Slipping barefoot through servants’ corridors when you were meant to be stitching tapestries featuring saints you personally didn’t believe would save anyone. Stupid notion, but to each their own, right?
Still, your own speculation appeared to gain substantiation when the priests named the curse that had begun to spread across the land. The Rot. Corpses rose with empty hunger and dragged down the living to join their ranks. Villages fell quiet overnight. Roads grew dangerous. Other kingdoms seemed to just crumble into ruins, nothing left behind but ash, stone, and echoes. The world beyond the castle walls decayed, and the crown tightened its grip in fear.
But not you.
You refused to hide. You refused to look away.
That was how you first noticed him.
Daryl stood among the King’s Guard, a shadow holding a weapon. Leather and polished steel. A crossbow in his hand and a sword at his hip. He was handsome, and you couldn’t believe you had never paid attention before. Then again, your father had never kept you and your sisters so close before.
As the king addressed his court, you watched Daryl. Dark hair, not exactly kempt. A stubbled jaw and whiskered chin. Most of the knights were either clean shaven or kept a full beard. Of course, he did neither. He never laughed with the other guards. He never drank in the taverns. He never boasted. He watched. Sharp blue eyes on the treeline from atop the castle walls.
His intensity made you curious. His silence gave you the courage to venture into something which you had never given much thought.
“Does it frighten you, Sir Daryl?” You leaned over the parapet one afternoon—skirts muddy from climbing places you weren’t meant to be.
He looked up. Most men startled when a princess addressed them directly, scrambling to bow. Daryl didn’t. They never looked you in the eye. Daryl did. It was quick and respectful before he lowered his gaze back to the gate.
“Should.” He said, jerking his head to one side to crack his neck. You liked his voice. He had an odd lilt to even such a small word. You wanted to hear him speak again. He said nothing else.
That should have been the end of it.
It wasn’t.
You found excuses. Watching archery practice. Sneaking into the yard at dawn. Asking questions no one else dared. What did it sound like when the rot got close? Did the dead remember their names or who they used to be? At first, he ignored you. He told you it would be best for you to stay inside the castle and out of the outer wards. When he finally begin to entertain you with answers, he was honest. He never softened the truth for you.
And that felt more respectful than any chivalrous courtesy he could have offered.
When the court took notice, whispers curled like smoke behind stone pillars. A princess lingering too long. A guard that stood too close. And of course, your father hadn’t paid attention. Not until it came to him in the form of a curled lip that you were disgracing your title. The king’s displeasure thundered silently through the halls. Daryl was reassigned often after that. He was sent to the walls, the gates. Anywhere that wasn’t near you.
Still, you—ever rebellious—managed to find him. Sometimes, it wasn’t even on purpose.
During a feast of celebration for a victory that meant little beyond the castle walls, you slipped into the chapel to breathe. The one place everyone should have been during such a time. Your bodice was too tight. The fabric itched. The jewelry was too heavy. You needed a moment to yourself. Away from the people who looked at you as nothing more than a royal damsel with no brains. Someone to marry off to unite kingdoms if the rot didn’t eat them all away.
Closing the door to lean back against it, you closed your eyes and breathed out slowly, tugging at the laces that made breathing in again feel impossible. As you stood there, you heard the slide of steel kneeplates, the muted jingle of mail beneath the cuirass.
Daryl.
“Y’shouldn’t be alone, Princess.” He said, voice a quiet rasp.
You smiled as your eyes fluttered open. “I do not believe I have ever truly been alone since seizing your awareness, Sir Daryl.”
That was when it happened. The thing both of you had been careful not to name. The line you never meant to cross.
The time it took to get him out of that armor nearly drove you mad. So did the way he paused with his fingers on the laces of your bodice, his eyes flitting between your lips and your heaving breasts. “We ain’t—” He shook his head, hand beginning to retreat. “We shouldn’t be—” It was strange to see the stoic knight so—vulnerable and uncertain.
You caught his wrist, pressing his palm firmly against your chest. “I know,” you agreed breathlessly. Your clothes took far less time to remove before the sin was committed in the very place set aside for God.
After that, it became less about protecting the kingdom and more about protecting you. Even from a distance, you could feel him watching. Even when you couldn’t see him, you knew he was there. Keeping just enough space to dispel your father’s suspicions. Where you would have been reckless, Daryl was methodical. He knew schedules and routines. He knew when areas would be vacant. He knew when the kingdom would be distracted.
And during any of those precise moments, you belonged to him. Pressed against a wall with your legs around his waist. On a table with his head beneath your skirts. Anywhere that lacked attention and provided enough time.
Damn armor.
Time went on. The Rot drew closer every season. The kingdom shrank. Everyone lived in a state of perpetual fear. Everyone except you and your knight.
Until the hour when the bells rang and screams tore through the lower ward. The Rot had breached the outer farms and surged towards the gate. Chaos swallowed rank and title whole.
You were dragged from your chambers by Daryl himself, blood already streaking his jaw. He was instinct that had been given flesh as he moved. The wooden crossbow sang. The sword flashed. There was no hesitation when it came to you.
He led you through hidden corridors that you hadn’t even known existed, his hand nearly crushing yours in his haste to get you to safety. When a wall opened to reveal a secret room, your father was there with three of your five sisters. You didn’t need to ask where they were. The grief began to suffocate you the moment you stepped inside.
When Daryl released your hand, you spun to find him stepping back out into the corridor. “Wait!” You called, grabbing the top of his cuirass to tug him back. He was already shaking his head when you managed to maneuver him to face you. “Don’t go.”
“You’re safe here, Princess.” There was a tremor in his voice, one that said he was terrified he wouldn’t see you again. “Stay until someone comes for ya.” His eyes closed when your palms found his cheeks, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes.
“Until you come for me.” You stated it as fact. A command.
There was a moment where your forehead rested against his chin before you felt his lips on your brow. Instinct had you tipping back your head for his mouth to claim yours, the outraged gasps of your family failing to kindle a response. A sob tore from you when he suddenly pulled away, the wall closing between the two of you before you pressed your hand against the cold barrier. Somehow you knew he was doing the same on the other side.
Throughout the entire ordeal, you sat opposite what remained of your family with your father no longer looking at you like a daughter but more like a liability the crown would no longer be able to afford should the kingdom survive. It hurt, but it was a mere ache compared to the searing agony of knowing that Daryl was outside, not fighting for his king but fighting for his princess.
When the wall shifted behind you, you scrambled gracelessly to your feet, barely catching a glimpse of the dark hair and crossbow before you were flinging yourself at Daryl. He was alive.
But not for long.
With the weak and gray dawn barely creeping over the walls, you were standing among survivors and ashes, arm in the grip of a knight that wasn’t Daryl.
He was on his knees between you and your father. No, not your father. The king.
Daryl’s head was down. He wasn’t ashamed. That much was obvious. The way he was kneeling wasn’t out of disgrace. It was acceptance.
“He saved my life!” You cried out, pulling against the guard’s hold. “I love him! He loves me!”
The king’s jaw tightened before he gave a snort and shook his head. “He is sworn to die for you if needed. That is not love.”
You felt something begin to burn behind your ribs. Rage. Spinning to the side, your nails tore down the side of the guard’s face, his grip loosening enough for you to pull free and sprint forward. Daryl didn’t look up. He didn’t move. He was ready to be executed. For loving you.
“Princess, don’t,” he rasped when you draped yourself over his back. If the axe came down, your head would roll as well.
“Then punish me!” You demanded of the king, unafraid. Your arms were around Daryl, fingertips pressing into his armor so hard you felt as though you could have dented the steel. “Because I would die for him!”
The silence was heavy.
The people were watching. And they all knew that the Rot didn’t care for bloodlines or vows. Faced with ruin in a world that was slowly ending, the king made a choice that history would later soften with kinder words.
Daryl was sent away. He wasn’t executed or forgiven. He was banished.
You watched him ride out later that same day. You didn’t cry, even as he pulled the reins to bring the horse to a stop just at the treeline. He was looking back, finding you standing on the wall. Even from that distance, you could see in his expression that he would have rather died for you than leave you behind. When the king sent his guards just outside the gate, weapons drawn in an attempt to scare him into riding on, he still didn’t move. The horse paced back and forth with Daryl’s gaze never leaving yours.
It took you screaming GO to make him act.
And just like that—he was gone.
For weeks, you suffered under the king’s rule as the walls were rebuilt and people attempted to gather the remains of their lives. When scouts would return with word from the world beyond, you cared for none of it until a knight you rarely saw anywhere but in the king’s orbit came to stand at your side. Sir Richard kept at attention, speaking to you from the corner of his mouth.
“He’s beyond the borders, where the Rot is the thickest,” he murmured. “And hope thinnest.”
You almost looked at him, but simply raised your chin slightly, your lips barely moving. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because the hope he needs is you,” he answered simply, hand bracing the hilt of his sword to keep it from clanging against his leg as he stepped down and exited the throneroom.
You blinked for several long moments.
But those were the only moments you wasted.
You shed silk for leather. Title for survival. Traded your crown for a blade at your hip. You had never been delicate. Still, the journey tested your resolve in ways you hadn’t thought possible, but when you found him weeks into the wilderness, you were quick to decide you would do it all over and over if it meant seeing him again.
“Sir Daryl,” you greeted, smiling crookedly.
“Not anymore.” He was still staring like he was seeing a ghost. You looked different. As did he. No armor. No crest. Not even a crossbow. A sword and a prayer had sustained him while he was without you. Finally, he cleared his throat and gave you a nod. “Princess.”
Your smile grew from soft to unapologetic. “Not anymore.” You let him come to you, the sword in his hand falling from his fingers when he stopped walking and began to run, colliding with you so hard that you both nearly fell. “Careful.” You said, barely getting the word out before his mouth was on yours. It lasted forever yet not long enough, your lips still pursed when he pulled back.
“Didn’t think I’d ever see ya again,” he rasped, eyes scanning you for injuries. He plucked a twig from your hair and tossed it down before he kissed you again. “Shouldn’a come out here. S’dangerous.”
“It is more dangerous without you. Even with an armory behind stone walls,” you said, fingers touching his jaw, his hair. Exploring. Remembering. “Besides,” you began, your fingers going to his shoulder to slide down his arm and take his hand. Pressing his palm against your stomach, you beamed at him while his blue eyes went wide. “I carry with me something that belongs to you.”
Warnings/Tags: 18+ mdni, smut with a sprinkle of plot, semi-public sex, thigh riding, female reader (she/her) with female anatomy, soft dom!daryl, needy!reader, use of the term 'good girl', season 6, pre-established relationship, no use of Y/N
Word count: 846 words
A/N: I cannot believe that this is my last kinktober post. This event was quite the challenge for me, but I'm so glad that I did it. It allowed me to experiment with writing Negan and Rick, which I was hesitant to experiment with. Thank you guys for all of the support!!
This is for kinktober day 31 - Thigh riding.
Masterlist | D.D. smut masterlist
Daryl had only been on the supply run for twenty-four hours, but that was enough for you to get pent-up. You weren't always this needy, he'd just created a monster. It was borderline pathetic how much you missed him. It wasn't just your mind, though. Your whole body was aching with need.
After a few more hours of completing mindless chores as a vain distraction, you finally heard the sound of Daryl's motorcycle pull into the driveway. Part of you wanted to run out there and greet him, but you decided against it. You didn't want to look completely desperate. Instead, you waited inside on the couch.
More time passed, and he still wasn't coming inside. What was taking him so long? Unable to wait any longer, you went out on the porch and there he was. Your man was sitting on the porch swing smoking a cigarette. You knew it was juvenile, but you were frustrated that he hadn't come to check on you first. Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow and spoke up.
“Forgettin' somethin'?”
As if he didn't see you standing there, Daryl flinched slightly and looked up with a guilty expression. He hadn't even realized that you were home. Usually, he'd come give you a kiss before decompressing after a run. He blew smoke and looked apologetic.
“I'm sorry, darlin'. I thought you were asleep. Figured I'd have a smoke and then come see you.”
“You always come see me first, though.”
Your tone was whiny, and you kicked yourself for it. You were a grown woman, not a neglected puppy. Shifting on your feet, you looked slightly embarrassed, and you waited for his response.
“Oh, honey. I ain't forget 'bout you. Come sit with me.”
Daryl shifted on the porch swing and patted his lap. You lit up at the idea and hurried over to sit with him. God, you were pitiful. Climbing into his lap, you shifted to get comfortable on his thigh and realized that the friction hit a certain spot. You were still wearing your sleep shorts, so there was only a thin layer of fabric between your cunt and the denim of his jeans. He clocked what you were doing immediately.
“That feel good, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, I really missed you.”
“Take what you need. Ain't goin' nowhere.”
Holding the cigarette in one hand, he wrapped his other arm around you and helped you get settled. He would've been worried about someone walking past the porch, but it was fairly dark out. Daryl had given you permission, so you wasted no time rocking back and forth on his denim-clad thigh. The corner of his mouth turned upward and he blew smoke. He loved seeing his girl all worked up like this.
Feeling how wet you were through the fabric of his jeans, Daryl felt himself getting hard, and his breathing grew shaky. His eyes tracked the way your breasts bounced as you ground against him. You were a fucking vision. His free hand was still wrapped around your waist, and he started tracing nonsensical patterns on your skin.
“That's it, baby. Keep goin'.”
It didn't take long for you to find a comfortable rhythm, rutting against Daryl's thigh. A damp spot was slowly spreading across the denim. You were soaking. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. Your whimpers were driving him crazy. The bulge in his pants was visible, and you made a mental note to take care of that later. For now, you kept rolling your hips and the pleasure pooled low in your belly.
Daryl could tell that you were getting closer by the way you were panting and your pace quickened. You were so desperate that it was almost adorable. Your boyfriend would never admit it, but seeing you like this was one of his guilty pleasures. He was tempted to go on longer runs just to see how wound up you'd get.
“You're gettin' close, huh? I can feel it, sweet girl. Let go whenever you're ready.”
Before you could respond, you were hit with a wave of pleasure, and you opened your mouth to cry out his name. A large hand clasped over your mouth before any sound came out, and Daryl gently shushed you.
“Shhh, don't wake the neighbors. Ain't nobody get to see you like this, but me. I've got you, darlin'.”
As you rode the wave of your ecstasy, Daryl rubbed soft circles on your back and held you against his chest. He'd also finished in his jeans and the material was sticky in multiple areas. This was going to be quite the cleanup. He focused on your pleasure, though.
The two of you caught your breaths, and you lifted your face from his shoulder. Daryl's cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were hazy. If that's how he looked, you could only imagine how wrecked your appearance was. You stood up on shaky legs and took his hand in yours.
“C'mon, let's go inside and get this mess cleaned up.”
warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining
a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33
Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.
A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.
It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.
It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.
Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.
He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.
He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?
Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.
And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.
He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'.
It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.
Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.
"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.
“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.
Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”
You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.”
His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.
“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.
Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.
His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.
“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water.
“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily.
He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.
"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.
He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.
For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?
‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly.
But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?
He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy.
He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.
He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.
You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.
“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away.
It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.
The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.
He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.
In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.
There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.
Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.
“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?
His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.
No. Surely, he was reading you wrong.
“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?”
He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.
He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.
“Can I see?” you asked quietly.
He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank.
“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.
There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.
"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.
"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”
And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.
“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?
“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.
“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”
His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?
"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.
"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.
"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."
Your crush on him?
"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.
You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"
You nodded.
"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.
"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"
Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”
Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?
Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.
You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.
You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.
He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.
“Hm? Wha’s that?”
He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”
So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.
He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.
You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.
This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.
Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.
In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.
No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.
His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.
He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.
“Daryl,” you gasped above him.
Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”
He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”
“How so?”
He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.
“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.
“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”
He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.
“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”
His thumb pressed firmer.
“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.
He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.
With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.
Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.
Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.
“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.
No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.
He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.
“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.
He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.
“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?
You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.
He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.
"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.
He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.
IN WHICH daryl thinks he’s gonna embarrass himself getting with you, but when you express your anxieties towards sex, he steps up to help ease your mind.
WORD COUNT 2.6k
THEMES sub reader, soft dom daryl (but he’s holding back hella), virgin reader, anxiety, implied age difference, size difference, praise kink, degrading praise? brief breeding mention, slow sex, he might cum too quick, oral, aftercare
A/N tysm @shattersoftly for req this. i like this one a lot.
daryl’s crush on you wasn’t meant to go anywhere. it was supposed to be something he shoved down, internalized, forced himself to ignore. at no point did he imagine you’d ever reciprocate those feelings, and he had made peace with that.
imagine daryl’s face when you made a move on him.
you’d been helping set logs for him to chop. it was quiet, with only the sounds of distant conversations, the slicing of dry wood, and the occasional grunt. something about seeing him work, man, you were a flustered mess.
somehow, walking wood back to his place ended with you squirming in his lap on the couch.
daryl’s hands ran up and down your back, calloused fingers dragging heat up your soft skin. his lips dragged along your neck, as he waited for you to signal for more.
daryl was used to women bossing him around in bed. it was easier that way, he always knew what to do when they explicitly told him.
not you, though. you were whining softly, shy, gentle and hesitant.
“this good?” he asked, nipping just below your ear.
you nodded, hiding your face in your sleeves. daryl was put off at first, thinking perhaps he’d overwhelmed you, that you didn’t want to go any further. he leaned back, brushing hair out of your face. “gotta tell me what you want,” he murmured. “can’t read yer mind.”
you blushed deeper (if that was even possible), and looked down. you worried your bottom lip raw, and god, you looked gorgeous like that.
“dun’ wanna stop,” you confessed softly, looking at him through thick lashes.
a smile threatened to form on daryl’s face. he understood now. swiftly, he adjusted, pulling you in closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. his hands rested on your hips, squeezing experimentally. you squeaked, and he melted.
“ah,” he sighed. “a’right. hands… here.”
he placed your palms on his chest, pausing to ensure you were still comfortable. you gave a short nod, and he grunted in acknowledgement.
“i’ll put my hands… here,” he grumbled, letting his fingers slip under your shirt, lips now brushing your cheek. “an’ you jus’ tell me… if it’s too much.”
another nod, your breath coming out shaky. your hands twitched against his chest, feeling the thump of his heartbeat. “s-sorry,” you whispered.
“dun’ be,” daryl replied, tracing a finger under your breast. “jus’ relax, okay?”
“tryin’,” you laughed nervously.
daryl got the idea. normally, he hated taking the lead, always worried he’d take it too far, get too rough. right now, he could tell that you were not only anxious, but inexperienced. and while he was no pornstar, he could find the rhythm.
his lips dragged along your neck, down to your collarbone. he hummed softly, the vibrations radiating off of your chest.
“gotta know,” he murmured, hands wandering upward, until they cupped your breasts. “this all new t’ya? i mean, are you…”
he trailed off, pausing to look at you.
your cheeks felt hot, eyes wide and dilated. god, you hated this question. what a helpless little lamb, never having been touched. since the world ended, you’d kind of given up on it.
a simple nod was all it took. daryl knew he had to do this right.
“shit,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair. “kay… you just… ya gotta talk t’me, yeah? if i’m goin’ too fast… doin’ too much, if you wanna stop—”
you gripped his collar, stopping him cold. your face was one of hesitancy, and determination. no matter how out of your element you were, you wanted this. needed it.
“stop talking,” you whispered. “please.”
daryl swallowed roughly, before nodding. his hands slid down, planting firmly on your waist. experimentally, he urged you to roll your hips, grinding down on his clothed cock. he groaned, low in his throat, feeling you jerk forward with an eep!
“ain’t… gon’ be no prince,” he muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “ain’t exactly… great at this, either.”
you let yourself laugh this time, smiling and shaking your head. it eased your mind a bit, recognizing that daryl was nervous, too.
“if i wanted a prince, you think i’d sit on your lap?” you scoffed, hand moving to the back of his neck. “just… go slow.”
your lips connected, messy and cautious. the warmth was electric, though, and what began as a slow experiment, soon turned heated, desperate.
daryl’s hand moved from your hip to your hair, tugging gently. your gasp gave him access, shoving his tongue in and intertwining with yours.
“fuck,” he growled. “so soft.”
a whine fell from your lips, wriggling against him, all needy and wet. daryl had to constantly remind himself to go slow, to not take take take.
“daryl,” you arched your back, your tone making his stomach flip. “please…”
he was hasty. his free hand quickly moved to his belt, unbuckling, tugging, chucking it on the floor loudly. while he did, your lips slid down his chin to his jaw. it felt good when he did it, so you figured he’d like it.
your tongue glided along his collarbone, a sensitive spot for daryl, drawing a shudder from his spine. “fuckin’… christ, woman…”
he yanked you back by your hair, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “gotta get ya ready fer me.”
with that, he flipped you on your back, straddling you. the couch creaked underneath your combined weight as daryl nipped your neck. he sucked little love bites as he slid his hands under your shirt.
“gon’ take this off,” he warned, tugging the thin fabric. “that okay?”
his eyes were glazed when he looked at you, but hell, he was holding back patiently. you bit your lip, nodding. daryl almost smirked.
“arms up.”
once your shirt came off, daryl swore he was in heaven. this gorgeous, smooth skin he’d ached to feel for so long, now on display like dessert.
“could eat you alive,” he grumbled, tongue sliding between your breasts. “fuckin’ delicious…”
a thick whine fell from your parted lips, back arching into his touch. his hands glided across your skin, up and down your hips, along your stomach. “daryl,” you groaned, eyes screwed shut.
“member t’tell me if it’s too much,” he said as his head leaned down towards your thighs. “or… not enough.”
daryl’s breath was hot on your skin, lips brushing the sensitive skin of your hips, your thighs, your navel. your body twitched as his tongue slid along your hot skin, teasing, not quite where you needed it.
“fuck,” you breathed, hands itching, hovering over his head. “please…”
that’s all daryl needed. his lips mouthed over your clit, then sucking. his fingers glided up and down your thighs, squeezing and smacking the inside of them eagerly. your back arched, pressing into his tongue as he swirled it.
“oh god,” you whined, hiding your face in your hands.
daryl paused, looking up at you with concern. his palm massaged your thigh, rubbing where he had previously slapped. “you okay?”
you quickly nodded, peeking down at him. his facial hair was already wet. “yes. ‘s good,” you muttered. “please.”
daryl chuckled, his other hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “fuckin’ gorgeous,” he whispered, before going back down on you.
his tongue got back to work quickly, sucking, slurping, sliding. he hummed against your cunt, pleased with how you were writhing and panting.
“y’can tug. if ya need to,” he mumbled with his mouth full, glancing up at you for a second.
your breaths came fast, as your shaky hands landed on his head. you hesitated, but as daryl’s teeth gently grazed your pussy, your nails dug in without permission, yanking on his hair hard.
you didn’t expect daryl to let out a low groan, the vibrations radiating up your spine. that alone nearly sent you over the edge, cunt throbbing. the hair pulling was like motivation for daryl, and he went down harder, growling like a man starved.
“fuck, d-daryl!” you squealed, head falling back. “oh god, please, i—”
his gaze flickered to your face, lips smacking, drool dribbling down his chin as he slobbered all over you. he almost smirked. daryl’s large hands came up, squeezing your thighs, massaging your clit with his tongue. “uh-huh,” he grunted. “go on.”
your hands moved without permission, tugging on his hair and shoving his head down as you came. your hips jerked up, chasing the high. daryl snarled with delight, smacking your thigh sharply. his tongue slowed, giving your pretty cunt a sloppy kiss before rising.
“oh… god…” you panted, face flushed, eyes glossy.
embarrassment washed over you, and your knees came up to your chest as you let out a whine. daryl only chuckled, unbuckling his belt slowly.
“oh, come on,” he leaned down, moving your knees out of the way. “don’t get all shy now, we jus’ started.”
you squeaked, worrying your bottom lip raw. your hands came up instinctively, wanting to hide your face.
the air was thick with tension and musk, daryl’s cock throbbing against your leg. his hand came up, cupping your cheek gently. “gonna fuck you now.”
because he never really knew how to be that romantic.
it was slow and hesitant, little nudges against your entrance, until he finally pressed inside. a long groan rumbled in your ears as he slowly pushed all the way in. you thought you might pass out from the girth alone, and once he was bottomed out, fuck, you could feel it in your stomach.
“stop, stop, stop,” you babbled, clawing his back.
daryl’s head fell into the crook of your neck, breaths heavy and hot. still, he listened, despite the desperate ache, despite his desire to ram into you over and over.
“gotcha… i gotcha,” he mumbled, stroking your hair as he let you settle. “shhh…”
after a moment, you nodded, a preemptive whimper falling from your lips. “okay. you can… move.”
daryl exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. slowly, he pulled almost all the way out, til catching on your eager hole, before just as slowly easing back in. the noises you made had daryl’s ears burning.
“fuck… so tight,” he grunted, palms pressing hard into the couch. “shit… gon’ have to move soon. ‘m slippin’ off.”
you let out a short laugh, “tight’s good, right?”
“sure, till it’s too good,” daryl replied, jaw clenched. “fuckin’ milkin’ me, christ. guess i shoulda figured, since you’re…”
he trailed off, shaking his head. he needn’t get too hasty, you’d only just started.
“ah… okay,” daryl slowly slid out of you, before quickly lifting you up. “goin’ to the bed.”
in seconds, he’s in you again, bottoming out quicker this time. a low growl fall from his lips, eyes fluttering closed. “jesus fuck. ain’t gon’ last.”
once he developed a rhythm, slow and methodical, your legs moved to wrap around his waist. your head fell back, lips parted. “oh my god, daryl,” you whined. “c-can feel it in my… tummy…”
daryl groaned, biting your shoulder to keep himself occupied. god, he was this close to pounding into you. “gah, shut up. ya start talkin’ like that, we’re gon’ be done ‘fore we start.”
you laughed breathlessly. experimentally, daryl snapped his hips forward, making you cry out. he couldn’t help but snicker.
“told ya,” he murmured, nipping your ear. “god, could ruin you.”
a pathetic whimper from your lips, and daryl was kissing you. sloppy and fast, not as gentle as his movements were. it’s hot and heavy, and he knew he wouldn’t last long, but it’s what you said next that nearly undid him.
“faster,” you moaned against his lips, tugging at his hair. “please.”
daryl snarled, biting your bottom lip before pulling back. his hips jutted back and forth quicker now, feeling your sweet pussy squeezing his cock. “gotta stop that,” he bit out. “gonna fuckin’ cum.”
the noise that followed sounded more eager than you intended. bless his heart, daryl tried to keep it slow, keep it steady for your poor, virgin cunt, but he was never that strong of a man.
“please, please, please, please,” you cried, back arching as you grew closer.
daryl licked at your neck, down your collarbone. “take it so good, almost forgot it’s yer first time,” he grunted, skin slapping skin. “so fuckin’ good fer me, ah? take it so well.”
his tone was almost mocking, and that was all it took. your cunt clenched hard as you came, pulsing rapidly as your orgasm washed over you. the overstimulation was addictive. you babbled nonsense as daryl fucked you through it, thrusts slowing down as your peak passed.
“fuck,” daryl hissed, coming to a dead stop. “don’ move.”
you whined, long and needy. god, the noise was becoming his new favorite thing. he smacked your hip gently. “serious, princess. don’t get cocky now.”
“heh,” you giggled. “cocky.”
“idiot.”
then he was moving again, in, out, in, out. he was sweaty and hot, breaths raspy and wet. you were a drooling wreck underneath him, and god, daryl couldn’t handle it.
“moan so pretty fer me,” he panted. “fuckin’ gorgeous, takin’ this dick, baby. c’mon. c’mon.”
faster, harder, too much, not enough. your head was spinning, nails creating dents in his skin.
“fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you rambled. “ohhh, god, daryl, ‘s too much… don’t stop!”
daryl lost control, just a little. his hand yanked your hair, pulling your head back so your throat was bared for him. he bit into your skin, marking you his. “if you don’ shut the fuck up, ‘m gon’ knock you up righ’ now, y’hear me?” he growled, all teeth. “that what’cha want, huh? babies with a fucked up prick like me?”
you shook your head, but couldn’t stop moaning. you’d surely get noise complaints tomorrow. “please, i can’t… i’m… it’s…”
your voice came sharp, too loud. daryl smacked his hand over your mouth to muffle your screams as you came again. this time, daryl couldn’t restrain himself. he let out a primal noise, quickly pulling out and spilling hot white all over your stomach.
your eyes blew wide, and you grabbed his cock without thinking. daryl’s hips jerked forward, sucking in through his teeth as you milksd him dry.
“ohh, you fucker,” he grit, squeezing your face where he covered your lips. “motherfucker. gettin’ greedy, ah?”
you just hummed, eyes glazed over and droopy.
it took five minutes of laying down, huffing and puffing, for daryl to get up and grab a towel. and while he was not a romantic, and totally not head over heels for you—yes, he did clean you up. felt your smooth stomach, kissed it gently. fuckin’ loser.
then, daryl rolled over and spooned you. his hand raked through your hair, as he softly hummed against you. you must’ve been dreaming.
“did so good,” he muttered, voice groggy. “you hurt at all?”
you shrugged, eyes closed. “li’l sore. but that’s normal, right?”
daryl chuckled, but couldn’t hide his concern. “was a tight fit. you’ll be alright.”
a pause. he felt guilt bubbling in his gut.
“here,” he adjusted, propped up on his elbow. “roll over.”
you got on your stomach, and daryl straddled you again. this time, to massage your back. his large palms pressed deeply into your soft skin, rubbing out the kinks and knots.
“mmh,” you moaned. “tha’s nice…”
“yeah?” daryl arched a brow, thumbs circling your shoulders. “good. jus’ relax. earned it.”
you were cheesin’ into your pillow until you fell asleep. who knew this burly son of a bitch could be so sweet?
summary: joel miller discovers the world, yes, the same world that has gone (been for a while) to shit, can still have surprises. like you, his sweet naive unexperienced girlfriend, being everything but that.
warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (old joel miller my GILF!), smut, sighs this is pwp who am i lying to, inexperienced!reader (yet for some reason she's a pro sucker lmao i'm a virgin don't come at me besides this is a fanfic who gives af if it's realistic or not), dirty talk, fingering, breast play, pussy pronouns, oral (m. receiving) (need that geriartric cock inside my mouth), some fluff bc we gotta balance this thing or i'm going to hell (okay he's not mean i baited y'all. mean jackson joel miller piece is still in draft dungeon)
word count: 4,722 words
side note: hell-fucking-o????? 2K CITIZENSHIPS APPROVED!?! ,, ok gonna be honest when i started writing in here and my first fic (an old man logan one, do u guys see a pattern?) flopped, i never thought i'd make it this far and it's all thanks to you my lovely citizens :,) you may think this is silly but your support means a lot to me (especially comments n' rb I'M A WHORE FOR THEM). now, yapping aside, as promised, this won the poll for the celebratory piece, so here you go !!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
Joel Miller is a man hard to surprise.
Years of weariness, trust and spirit broken by things that would kill anyone else, and overall, just surviving, you'd think that a man that was hardened by a rough past and of his age had seen it all.
Joel liked to think he was prepared for whatever life threw at him. Enter Ellie: how she had managed to break his shell, from cargo to soothing balm to heal old open wounds he refused to even speak of. But he was ready to burn the world for her, picking guns and taking lives to bring her to a home. His home. He settled, filial terms silent but felt, ready to take the second chance life had given him. Until the bond that united them turned fragile, loose ends tensing the silver string of found family.
He fell down the path of a familiar ache he hadn't felt in a long time, dormant, waiting for him to fuck up to show again with it's dull and hollow torment. He always did. So now he's spending too much time at the Tipsy Bison nursing a glass that could have his name by now, all to avoid going to a eerily quiet home where the room at the end of the hallway lies empty.
And then life decides to startle his track, albeit destructive, with a third chance: you.
Just thinking about you brings a certain tingle that an old rugged man like him should be embarrased about. One he shouldn't even feel.
But Joel loves you, he thinks. From the moment you showed up on his front door, rambling about some reparations at the school, were you volunteered.
"They were all scared of you" your sweet voice had said, some of that unreasonable fear laced within it, "so I came"
He scoffed at Jackson's ridiculous antics. Rumors spread fast in the small town, and suddenly, the hanging threat of who he was followed him everywhere like a shadow, which, given the dark nature of his now put to rest violence, seemed a proper description.
"They sent 'cha?"
You were clearly intimidated, given your shaky frame despite spring and the light tremble in your tone. But you were still here, gaze set on him as a determined child who wants to win the best prize.
"No. I chose to come"
His stomach does a flip at the stillness of your words, security etched in the statement as if you hadn't been in the verge of stuttering seconds ago.
Like you wanted to show him this is what it is, and whatever that was, you weren't running. But he testes the water, skin prickling intensely.
"And you ain't scared, kid?"
He laughed, the type of laugh that shakes your body with unease, but the one that shot across you didn't come from a place of distress, rather a more hidden one, between a pulsing press between your ribs, like it'd swallow you whole if you kept thinking about it too much.
"I am" you answered truthfully.
Something about your quiet admission made him falter the tiniest bit. Maybe it was how you had no problem voicing out loud any of your thoughts, or how you weren't afraid to be seen for what you were, the quiet of your answer out of a gentle place and not dread.
"Then why are ya' still here?"
Brows furrowed, like he, for some reason, expected you to yell at him for all the sins that colored his calloused hands red. Instead, you had looked at him as if he had all the answers in the world, big sparkling eyes staring deep into his tainted soul.
"Because I need you"
Yet, when you said it, Joel felt you weren't talking about the creaky drawers and old stairs anymore, but of the anchor you just found for yourself in the shape of Jackson's most respected and troubled resident, unknowing that, in that moment, he had chosen you too.
So, Joel may have forgotten about what feelings that feel too before world-ly feel like, but the quiet steady beat of his heart, mingling into a peaceful symphony with each soft breath past your rosy lips, head laying over his rising and falling chest, warm, feels exactly like love is.
He knew from the very first time you were his. Yeah, he loves you.
Joel just wants to give you the world, his world: the quiet afternoons, his rough limbs and aching joints, his face covered by spots and sun kisses that compliment his wrinkles, hair that gets curlier and softer and greyer, every figure he makes in his little shop and, of course, his bed.
Your Joel isn't exactly a pleaser, used of doing what he deems best without asking, yet, the moment you uttered those three words, he knew it was because he hadn't met you.
"Be my first"
He remembers the surprise on his face, how it grew red as the silence stretched on. The door bursting open, bed creaking under combined weight and your giggles. He too remembers the sweet cries past your lips, your taut muscles, the little strained breath you let out when he slipped inside of you. It all belonged to him because you let him, and that day, Joel Miller became the luckiest man in the world.
And yet, he still hadn't been as surprised as he was today.
The routine was the same from the past year: pick you up from the school after he was done at the office, taking some minutes to watch you with the toddlers, making voices as the same tender hands you used to jerk him off booped noses and carried children who made him think of getting one of your own, one with your grace and beauty, getting him painfully hard at images of filling you silly and your body changing to carry his seed. Fuck. He was a psychopath for such lewd thoughts on a place destined for education and infancy innocence, and here he was, cock uncomfortable inside his pants.
But then your mouth gets too greedy when your sickenly honeyed voice whispers his name, robbing him of air and only pulling away when his lips get swollen and his face a little flustered.
"Need help down there?"
There's always that problem and you're always the solution.
"Let's go home, sugar. Then ya' can help 'tis ol' man fix it"
Walking back home is always a hassle, hands intertwined, Jackson seeing a cute couple. But you're both aware of the throb that settles in between you like the tension, nobody noticing how hard you're trying to not just fuck on the middle of the street like two eager bunnies.
It's his fault, he thinks as you push the door of his house open, for making you like this.
The truth is, after taking your virginity, Joel's taught you things your unexperienced mind couldn't even imagine, and this past six months, you've complied with that sweet disposition that clung to you like the floral of the soap you used. And Joel loved that: how, despite having his dick stretching your tight pussy, you looked at him with those big eyes from the very first night, still round and innocent, like a doe and not a siren.
Which was surprising, because Joel, in a way, had corrupted you. Tainted the naive angel. And still, it was like he couldn't get rid of quiet shy you. Worst of it all was, instead of filling him with shame from robbing pieces and pieces of your integrity everyday, the older man felt some wicked sense of satisfaction and pride, to see how, despite his age and your soft nature, he was yours as you were his, and that he had taught you exactly how to enjoy that.
He knows you like the palm of his hand and the littered scars across his chest. The pattern you call stars, holding into a beauty only you see in the ugly marks, yet make him feel with each delicate trace, making such blunt and rough marks a galaxy; exorbitant. The same ones he thinks hide behind your adoring warm eyes. Joel just knows you, so even when things go the same way they have for a while, he's aware something is different when your fingers fiddle with his belt, trembling hands now struggling to free his aching cock.
He knows better than to think it's your arousal and impatience. No, this is something else.
"Sweetheart..." he warns. "Somethin' wrong?"
You shake your head, hands ready to take his underwear down.
"I'm fine"
He won't take that clipped sentence for an answer. Instead, his hands slowly remove yours from his hips before going to grab you by your chin, fingers pressing not enough to bruise but to make a point. His thumb presses lightly over your mouth, your bottom lip tugged down, parting your lips. You let out a little sigh, closing your eyes, eyelashes kissing your cheekbones. What a damn sight, he thinks.
"Talk to me"
"I want to suck your cock"
He almost chokes on nothing. Joel coughs a little, red painting his cheeks as a surge of lust and desire crashes through him. His eyes go wide at your bold and eager request, because one: it wasn't like you to talk like this, and two, you had never done it before.
Sure, you had jerked him off so many times he's lost count, but your lips wrapped around his length, mouth swallowing his aching cock? Just the image of it going past your pretty lips, the sensation of your spit mixed with his liquids... He already has a special place in hell, the blood rushing to his already hard member.
"Fuck, sugar. You wanna have this dick 'nside y'r mouth so bad? That eager and needy y'are?" he asked, voice reduced to a low rumble.
You nod, a little too excited as he sits in the edge of your shared bed, letting out a huff of effort. Old man sounds, you would tease. But not today, it seems, when your eyes are too busy looking at the pulsating silhouette under the grey cloth. He smirks, removing the layer, and he swears you begin to salivate like a starving dog.
"Y' think y' can take it?" his hand wrapped around his sensitive cock, giving it a few slow pumps as he watches you with a drowsy gaze. "Ain't it too much for a pretty lil' thing like y'rself?"
Wordlessly, you fall to your knees, looking up to him with those eyes of yours that drove him crazy. You caress his thigh, and despite being the one in control, Joel's eyelids feel heavy, fluttering at your soft and tender touches on his thick muscle, every hair rising at the reverence of your every move. You leave a little kiss in his inner thigh, making his heart skip a beat, breath a little ragged.
"I can" sounding so sure. Oh, his little angel.
"You gon' be a good girl then?" he whispers, voice hoarse and thick, looking down at you.
You nod, slowly.
"Let me taste it" you murmur, voice soft and breathy.
Your tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe up his shaft. You savor the salty taste of his arousal, moaning softly at the flavor. Joel's brown eyes darken in seconds.
"Quit 'da teasin'. 'M too damn old for that"
You smile a bit. "Impatient"
"Minx" he replies, voice thick.
It is indeed big, especially now that it was hard, and you do wonder for a second if you're biting more than you can chew.
"Y'asked for 'tis" like he can read your mind, "don't grow shy on me, doll"
He groans when your hand wraps around his length, stroking him slowly, teasingly as you always do. He feels the heat building in his gut as you work him over, letting out a little groan.
"F-feels so good, sugar" he voices out, strained. "But I need'a know if y'r made fo' 'tis. C'mon, princess. Show me what'a good lil' cock slut y'are"
You lean in, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive head of his big cock, making him shudder.
"Let's see what y'r pretty mouth can do" while tracing your lips, idly.
For the first time ever, the warmth of your mouth takes him. He can see it dissapear past your lips, stretching around his girth. Joel can only watch with a breath he forgets to take how every inch of his thick cock is gone past your lips. Entranced, like this was a magic trick of some sorts.
"S' that all?" he lets out a tense chuckle. You narrow your eyes, feeling a bit of a gag and spit drool past your lips. "Don't worry, princess. I can be of help on that"
He moves a bit, groin almost on your face as he's dangerously close to fucking your face. Instead, you feel how it reaches the back of your throat, making you pause at the feeling of your eyes watering slightly as you adjust to the intrusion.
"S'okay, sweet girl. I know ya' can take it deeper" he encourages, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. "Relax, baby. You're doing so good-" his voice cuts off with a strained grunt. Then, he voices out in a more huskier tone. "Use y'r throat and take my cock like'a good girl"
You push forward, taking him deeper until Joel feels the head of his cock bump the back of your throat. He throws his head back, curls combed slicked now starting to dampen and fall disheveled, drops of sweat sliding down his forehead, muscles of his thighs taut with trepidation.
You gag slightly yet quickly recover as if to prove something.
"That's right. Why did we wait s' long to do 'tis? Fuck, baby, ya' were born for 'tis. Keep goin'. Y' mouth's drivin' me crazy"
Joel groans as you take him deep, nose pressing against his groin, his fingers tightening in your hair. Your throat constricts around him all while you fight your gag reflex. Then slowly, you pull back, lips sliding along his shaft until just the tip remained in your warm mouth.
"Don't be such'a tease" his voice reduced to a hoarse rasp. You just give him what appears to be a shrug and an apologetic smile, right before diving back in, taking him to the hilt once more. His hips rock involuntarily at the feel, your head bobbing. A guttural moan cuts through his throat, the only other sound in the room aside the wet sounds of your suckling. "S' real bad girl, hun. Wouldn't think a docile lil' doll like ya' would be s' mean"
But he watches you with such adoration in his eyes, completely captivated as you work him over, that you know his words carry no malice behind them. Without a word, he takes your hands, guiding them to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth.
"Let's give 'em somethin' to do, don't 'cha think?"
Suddenly, the pressure ties his stomach in knots, his belly strained under his flannel shirt, slightly protruding in the middle, buttons as tense as his muscles. Joel feels his legs become shaky, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He looks down at you, taking in the sight of your sweet disposition. If he wasn't one lucky man.
"Y/n" he gasps your name in a choked breath, followed by a strangled grunt, his release building fast as he doesn't dare to . "I'm gonna..."
Joel tries to pull off, thinking having you wrapped around his shaft is enough sin for the day, but then your hands find their way to his legs, keeping him grounded. His eyes widen slightly at the insistent glaze in your determined eyes.
"God damn, doll. What're ya'-"
He doesn't get to finish, his words dissolving into a low, animalistic growl as his orgasm crashes over him. His cock jerks and pulses in your waiting mouth, spilling thick ropes of hot, salty cum down your eager throat, painting its back white.
"Baby, don't" Joel says through a worn down rasp, trying to pull out, but you, his sweet little girlfriend, grips his thighs with an unknown force, keeping him buried deep as you greedily work to milk every last bit of his cum.
"'S 'tis what ya' want, huh? You dirty dirty girl" his voice grows lower, a filthy snarl as his eyes darken a bit more. "Swallow it, then. Take all ma' fucken seed"
He holds your head in place, fingers tangled in your damp hair as he rides out the intense waves of his release. Joel's so inside of you, he can feel your throat working, gulping down every drop he had to give.
Finally, as the last spurts of his climax taper off, he releases you, his chest heaving with exertion. You pull back, a strand of saliva and cum connecting your bottom lip to the tip of his spent cock.
"Like that, dirty girl?" he grabs you by your chin, thumb wiping some of your saliva and his cum off. "Did ya' like the taste f' ma' cum?"
You lick your lips, savoring the taste of him. "I did"
"'S that right? What happened to my angel?"
You laugh, the sound tired and hoarse. "I'm still here"
He pats his thigh, so you sit in there, wrapping your arms around his neck. With a free hand, you remove some curls that have fallen over his worn face.
"Hard'a believe"
You click your tongue. "You were never a believer, Miller"
He lets out an exhausted chuckle. "I believe in you"
Joel revels in the delicate pink hues coating your cheeks. He's so weak for you.
"Now, doll. Be honest with y'r ol' man" he brushes a stray strand off your face, tucking it behind your ear with a delicacy so contrary to the roughness of his hands. "I know when ma' girl's goin' through somethin'"
You seem to grow shy all of the sudden. "You'd be right"
Needless to say, he's intrigued now.
"Care to tell?"
You hide your face on his shoulder, inhaling his sweat and natural odor, even the faint traces of soap. He combs through your hair, lazily.
"Promise you won't laugh" you say as you pull back, to face him.
He raises a hand, expression curious.
"I'd never make fun of 'cha, doll"
"I want you to cum inside me"
The room grows quiet for a minute, an by each second of silence that stretches so is the red across your face. Joel blinks slowly. Once and twice. By the third time, the crease between his brows has become prominent.
"What?"
Your face grows hot as you try to run away, but he stops you.
"Woah, hey. Where ya' goin'?"
"I told you you'd laugh" you pout your lips, flustered.
"I ain't even let out a goddam laugh" he defends himself. "'M just tryna process in here"
You huff. "What's so hard to understand?"
Joel looks at you like you've grown a second head. "Y' really gon' ask me that?"
"Maybe I want to try different things" you play with your fingers, avoiding his gaze.
He obligues you to look by taking you by your chin, gently. A small warm smile adorns his face.
"Different's good"
You reciprocate his smile. Maybe it's that or the fact he can still see his cum glistening your lips, or the thrill of his seed seeping out of your tight walls. Either way, Joel surrenders.
"Ya' know I'll give 'cha anythin' you want" he says, voice low. "Just say da' word"
You gulp. "Yes"
Joel lets out a low, animalistic growl at your breathy acceptance. It was all the permission he needed. He crashes his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, pouring every ounce of his pent-up desire as he grabs you by your hair, right at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and tighter. His other hand roams your body greedily, slipping under your shirt to caress the smooth, warm skin beneath.
"We gotta take 'tis out"
He shoves the fabric up and off, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head and toss it aside.
"It's my shirt"
"It's a nuissance"
He pauses for a moment, drinking in the sight of your naked torso, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each anticipating breath.
"Told ya'" he murmurs, voice rough with desire. "'S fuckin' perfect to be hidin' all that"
Joel leans down, capturing one rosy peak in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, suckling and teasing until it pebbles under his touch. You let out a breathy choked moan, loving the wet of his tongue against your warm skin. Then, his hot breath ghosts over as he utters a simple word that has your core clenching at nothing.
"Mine"
His hand slide down your stomach, slipping under the waistband of your jeans. Joel can feel the heat of you, the damp patch that had formed on the fabric of your panties. He groans against your breast, his fingers sliding lower, brushing against your clothed sex.
"Can tell she missed me. That ya' weren't lyin', baby. She's fucken wet" he rasps, his voice muffled against your skin.
Joel's fingers slip under the fabric of your panties, feeling the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingertips. He groans, his cock hard again, throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his jeans.
"Fuck, sugar" he mutte4red, his voice rough and low. "S' ready for me already"
He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it swell under his touch.
"Ain't she know me s' goddam well..."
Then, he dips a finger inside your tight, clutching heat, groaning at the way your walls flutter around the intrusion.
"God, you feel s' good" Joel says, voice strained. "S' fucking tight and perfect. I can't wait to feel ya' wrapped 'round my cock, doll. Can't wait any damn longer fo' y'r sweet lil' cunt"
He pumps his finger in and out, thumb still circling your clit. He can feel you getting closer, your hips starting to buck against his hand.
"That's it, baby" he encourages, his voice a low, filthy rumble. "Fuck yourself on ma' fingers. Show me how much ya' want it"
He adds a second finger, then a third, making you yelp as he stretches you open.
"Relax, doll. We've done 'tis before. 'M just preparing her to take ma' dick. You gon' be a good girl and stop fucken squirmin'?"
You nod, pliant, your body starting to tense.
"'Tis ya' reward. Come on ma' fingers like a good girl, and then I'll give 'cha what ya' really want. I'm gon' fill 'tis greedy cunt with my cum an' pump 'cha s' full of it 'til 's drippin' outta ya'"
Joel curls his fingers inside you, rubbing that all too well spot that brings you to tears. He feels you clench down hard, crying out as you come undone. Your orgasm crashes over, body convulsing as your pussy clenches rhythmically around his fingers. When he pulls his fingers out, he's bringing them to his lips, sucking off your essence from the digits, groaning at the taste of you.
"'S sweet as always"
After that, Joel is quick to shed what's left of his clothing, nearly tearing the old flannel in his haste. He lays you down on the bed, covering your body with his own, his tummy pressing lightly over your abdomen, his weight sinking you down on the mattress.
He then looks down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, glistening parted kiss-swollen lips, and heaving chest.
"I love ya', sweet girl" Joel blurts out, eyes are dark and intense.
He settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.
"Say y'are mine" voice a low, demanding growl. "Say ya' belong to me, y/n, baby. Say it"
He pushes forward slightly, just the tip of him slipping inside your tight heat. He groans at the feel of you, at how your walls stretch to accommodate him. You let out a small whimper, yet still unable to form coherent sentences.
"I want to hear you say it, angel" Joel presses nonetheless, his voice strained.
He rocks his hips slowly, pushing a little more of his thick length inside you with each thrust. He can feel you getting wetter, core glistening as if your body yielded to his.
"Please, y/n" he begs, voice rough and desperate. "Please, baby... say it. That 'am your first an' last. The only man who ever fucks 'tis sweet cunt"
"I'm yours, Joel" you choke out. "Only yours"
With a final, hard thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at the feel of you, letting out a long low groan.
"Fuck, doll" he gasps, hips starting to move, pistoning in and out of you. "She's just made f'me, ain't she? Gon' make ya' feel good. Give ya' what y'asked for. Lemme take care of it. I like to take care of's mine"
He hooks your legs over his shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he pounds into you. The bed creaks under you, headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust.
"Take it, sugar. Just like ya' wanted. 'Tis dirty mouth n' greedy pussy" Joel growls. "Take ma' cock like a good little girl. Fuck, y' were made f'r 'tis. Made't be fucked hard and deep and full of my cum"
He feels the tight coil of heat in his gut winding tighter and tighter; knows he won't last long.
"Please, Joel" you mewl, desperately clinging to him.
Joel lets out a feral growl at your plea, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He can feel you clenching down around him, body trembling as another orgasm builds deep inside you.
"Ya' want my cum, baby?" he snarls. "Want me t' fill her 'til it's drippin' down y'r legs?"
You nod, too eager.
"Look at that" he chuckles, pounding harder into you, forgetting for a moment he's sixty one. "Such a slut, beggin' for me to flood 'tis sweet pussy with ma' load. 'M gon' give ya' s' much you'll be leakin' for days. Gon' fill her up nicely. I know you gon' make sure not'a single drop goes to waste"
Joel reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.
"Come with me, doll" he demands, growling. "Come on my cock like a good girl n' milk every last drop 'f cum. Show me just how much ya' want it"
With a final, brutal thrust, Joel buries himself balls deep inside you. He throws his head back, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as his orgasm rips through him.
"Take it, baby. Let me make ya' mine" His cock jerks and pulses inside you, spurt after spurt of hot, thick cum painting your insides. "Atta girl"
He collapses against you, hips still rocking slightly as the aftershocks of his release roll through him. He can feel you coming around him, pussy clenching and milking his spent cock, trying to pull every last drop of his seed deep inside you, just like you asked for.
Joel's chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath, heart pounding against yours as he cradles you close.
"Not so bad for an old man"
He snickers, rolling onto his side, pulling you with him until you're tucked against his chest, head pillowed on his arm.
"Brat"
He wraps his other arm around your waist, holding you close as he nuzzles into your hair, traces of lavender up his nose.
"But you love me"
Joel sighs softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, then temple and finally shell of your ear. In that moment, he knows he'll never let you go.
"That I do"
You softly comb his hair, his eyelids fluttering.
"I love you too, Joel"
A beat of silence goes by.
"So..."
"So?"
Joel offers a tired smile, glint of mischief laced somewhere.
CW: +18, fingering, oral, penetration, mentions of smoking.
⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡
Husband Daryl who loves being the big spoon, cuddling you from behind, your back to his chest, his arms holding you tight, one beneath your (his) sleep shirt and the other holding your tits, kissing you on your neck or behind your ear while whispering sweet things until you both fall asleep.
Husband Daryl who wakes up in the middle of the night with you grinding on his dick. It always ends up with your panties pulled to the side, his middle and ring fingers making circles on your clit and some of the fingers from the other hand in your mouth, making you suck on them, shushing your moans. Later your leg slightly up and his dick pounding hard inside you, with Daryl whining in your ear.
Husband Daryl who, even after the midnight sex, wakes you up by eating you out, his nose inside the hair between your legs, inhaling your scent and suctions on your clit while his ring and middle fingers are pounding into your hole. While he does that, he grinds himself into the mattress, cumming in his boxers the moment you cum on his tongue.
Husband Daryl who cleans you up with a wet towel, kissing your inner thighs, biting them, leaving marks only he can see and smirking at you from between your legs.
Husband Daryl who always shares his smokes with you, he enjoys it even more if you smoke while he fucks you dumb, both bodies wrapped in smoke.
Husband Daryl who smacks your ass whenever possible, smirking at you.
c.ws ⠀ⵗ⠀ mdni ! explicit sexual content , porn without plot , graphic piv , creaming , creampies , a lot of body fluids , established relationship , cowgirl , subby!daryl undertones (?) w.c : 1.3k words
notes ꗃ this is just porn, okay? i don’t even know how to summarize it. 😭 btw, is this a scenario or a drabble? cuz it’s too long to be a scenario and… too long to be a drabble as well— me lleva.
i think daryl’s the kind of boyfriend who turns into a clingy mess the second you get on top of him—with your thighs spread wide around his hips, clamping tight as the velvety heat of your cunt stretches taut around the girthy base of his cock, thick and unyielding, flushed veins bulging along the shaft. the swollen head’s already buried deep in your warmth, nudging insistently against your cervix with every subtle shift to make more room for him. your slick folds are parted obscenely around him, puffy and glistening, weeping out with arousal in sticky threads that coat all the way down his length, dripping down to mat the coarse hair at his groin and soak the heavy sac of balls pressing snug against your ass.
“ngh— daryl…” you mewl, savouring with every fiber of your being how delicious the thickness of your boyfriend’s dick fills you to the fucking brim; and god, the sounds you make drive him absolutely crazy, so much he can’t help but feed your womb with tiny beads of pre-cum already—even though he has just slipped in.
his hands roam restlessly all over your body, sliding calloused palms up your thighs to grip your hips with bruising force, letting his fingers rest on your lower back to provide support to help you bounce in his lap—first slow, then increasing the pace until it’s fast and dirty enough to hear the wet, sucking slide of your pussy devouring him inch by inch.
“fuck—baby—” he groans, sounding wrecked, with a southern drawl thicker than usual and a desperate edge that you’ve hardly ever had the chance to hear before. his eyes are locked on your form, watching your tits bounce with a dark, hungry gaze, pupils blown so wide you can barely see the blue. “mmph, shit—”
your gummy walls ripple with each descent, clenching around the rigid heat that throbs inside you. he’s all tension beneath you, muscles coiled tight in his abdomen, the defined ridges flexing under your bracing hands as sweat beads and trickles down the valley of his chest, pooling in the dips of his collarbones. god, he’s such a sight under you right now.
a low, needy whine escapes his throat when your cunt chokes him with a powerful squeeze. his arms instantly fly to wrap around your middle like vines, yanking you down with him until your sweat-slick breasts flatten against his heaving chest, nipples pebbled and scraping deliciously over the sparse, wiry hair there. he takes the moment to bury his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling the damp skin and parting his lips to drag hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse, tasting the salt of your perspiration with fleeting flicks of his tongue.
in the meantime, his hands didn’t stop moving, on the contrary—one slid up to cradle the back of your head, angling yourself to capture your mouth in a fervent kiss; while the other dipped lower to palm the curve of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh and spreading you wider to expose the slick juncture where your bodies connect.
“daryl…” you breathe, breaking the kiss, voice soft and fractured, your own fingers digging into the broad expanse of his shoulders, leaving crescent indents with your nails in the sun-freckled skin as you grind down harder. the mushroomy tip of his cock keeps grinding against that spongy spot deep inside your love channel, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your core that have you moaning at the top of your lungs. damn, you truly hope rick and michonne don’t hear you in the next room, because if they do… Well, maybe you shouldn’t be thinking about this right now, your focus needs to be in him, not in a problem for the future you.
and as soon as your mind comes back from the embarrassing thought, his hips buck involuntarily to meet yours, driving his thick length even deeper and making your fluids gush with the motion. the creamy essence of your hole starts frothing at the base of his shaft, forming a messy ring of arousal where your pussy swallows him whole, filling the air with the obscene squelch alongside the rhythmic slap of your ass against his thighs.
“ya— ngh—! ya close, sunshine?” he growls, a deep, vibrating rumble from his chest that you feel more than hear—yep, just like i said, because the veined underside of his dick drags along your sensitive front wall at the same time he asks the question, stretching your entrance with a delicious burn that prevents you from responding.
well, you’re just as fucked out as he is.
his arms lock tighter around your waist, refusing to let even an inch of space between you. his legs shift to get a better angle as your arms snake around his neck, pressing flush against his body while enjoying the way he clings to you.
there are sweat slicks in every point of contact, his skin hot and feverish against yours, the musky scent of him mingling with the heady aroma of sex, thick in the humid air.
the scene looks obscene from any angle you look at it from, but well, you’re having the sex of your life, who cares if there’s a mess in the bed?
anyways, you quickly pick up the pace, riding him with desperate rolls, fluttering wildly around his pulsating girth each time you sink donw. he’s painting hard in your neck, absolutely loving how good your pretty cunt milks him from root to tip. his hands start roaming again, sliding up to cup your breasts and pull softly at the hardened peaks, which only drags a broken whimper in response.
“feels so good! ah—! daryl—! god, i’m so close…” you whine, head falling back slightly only for his hand to guide it back down with a grumpy grunt, keeping you tucked into him. he doesn’t speak, but his actions scream it—every flex of his fingers, every needy arch of his hips chasing deeper friction, the way his cock swells thicker inside you, oozing with pre from the slit to mix with your copious slick—he’s clearly about to come as well and needs you close to do so.
but not so many minutes later the coil snaps for you first—your abused hole spasming in violent waves, clamping down like a vise around his throbbing shaft and gushing hot and wet in a flood that soaks his groin in a sticky mess.
he follows with a choked, animalistic groan, slamming his hips up one final time to bury himself to the hilt. a tiny whimper escapes from your lips the second you feel thick ropes of cum erupt from his tip, painting your insides in warm, viscous spurts that fill you until it seeps out and dribbles in creamy trails.
once your orgasm has finished, your body collapses on top of his, though his arms don’t waste time in cuddling you tightly against his chest, keeping you safe and warm as you come down from the high, not letting you go for a second. his face stays buried in your neck, brushing soft kisses over your throat and all the way up your cheek.
and when you’ve finally recovered from such a powerful climax, your lips plant a sweet chaste kiss on his before trying to roll over next to him, though his strong arms prevent you from doing so as soon as he notices you wanting to wiggle free.
“don’t move yet,” he mumbles, voice hoarse, almost shy now that the haze is lifting. “jus’… stay like this. please…”
you smile against his shoulder, feeling him soften inside you with each passing second, but still keeping you full of love. “not going anywhere,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his damp hair as you melt into him, boneless and satisfied, feeling the steady thud of his heart against yours, knowing he’ll hold you like this for as long as you’ll let him. and as if to confirm your thoughts, he tightens his hold just a fraction more, like he never wants to let you go. ♥︎
summary: daddy takes you to uncle tommy for a playdate.
tags: puppy play, cuck!joel, reader x “uncle”!tommy, collar wearing, oral (m receiving), kinda incesty but joel and tommy don’t actually touch each other, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, facial by joel and tommy, reader does not orgasm because she’s only aloud to cum on Joel’s cock :(
ask: “might i suggest joel takes reader on a playdate with tommy? 🐾”
divider by me <3
the comforting smell of wood and cigarette smoke filled the living room of uncle tommy’s small house. you liked visiting him with joel, it was your only outlet outside of joel after all and uncle tommy was always nice to you. always wisecracking about something and making you laugh when you shouldn’t be. so, when joel suggested that you show him a little lovin’, who were you to refuse?
you agreed to put your collar on for uncle tommy, even if you did feel a little silly. you hadn’t ever worn your collar for anyone other daddy before but joel ensured that uncle tommy would enjoy it. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised at Joel’s suggestion. he always made it clear that you were his pup and nobody else’s. you’d assumed him and tommy had spoken about sharing you without you considering it just came up out of the blue.
so now, on a lazy sunday night your knelt before tommy, his lanky cock stuffed in your mouth while joel fucking watched.
he was perched on the armchair across from the couch both you and tommy were at, worn jeans and boxers pulled down just enough to free his girthy member — angry, red tip leaking while he stroked himself.
as for tommy, he was having the time of his fucking life. you bobbed your head enthusiastically, rutting your hips against the floor in an attempt to diffuse some of the tingling beneath your now soaked panties. “that’s it — that’s a good, girl.” tommy rasps, watching as you choked on his veiny cock.
“told ya she was good.” joel commented smugly as he tends to himself. he spits in the palm of his hand and wraps it around his thick member, tightening his fist as he watches you sputter around tommy’s cock as he starts to thrust his hips up — fucking your mouth.
“s’like a fuckin’ bitch in heat,” tommy groaned, continuing the conversation with his brother as if it was just another day. “she always like this when she gets those paws on cock?”
“you fuckin’ bet.” joel laughs. “s’what the pup was made for.”
you whined around tommy’s length at their degradation, feeling like a piece of meat for both brothers to use. tommy cooed, reaching down and brushing a stray piece hair from your sweaty forehead. “doin’ great, puppy. look at ya go.”
you tore off his cock with a gasp, greedily sucking in all the air you could get. “thanks uncle t-tommy.” you smiled, a string of saliva connecting you to the head of his cock. tommy’s dick was different from Joel’s — more veinier and less thick. still big though, probably the same length as his big brother. something you noticed about it was how it had more hair than joel’s. maybe naturally, they had the same amount but joel trimmed his, he was a man who prided himself with good hygiene.
tommy’s pubes though, were thick at the base of his length, a pretty, black, curling bush with little greys despite his age — kind of similar to the hair on his head.
Joel’s strokes became lazier now, shallow pumps of his fist indicating he was now bored. “c’mon, up,” he ordered. “how ‘bout ya ride your uncle tommy a lil.”
you perked up at that, saliva now dropping back down onto Tommys dick. you were glad he suggested if considering how fucking wet you were — pussy sopping and making a mess of your panties. “yes, daddy.” you smiled, standing up obediently and moving to straddle Tommy’s lap.
but tommy stopped you before you could. “ah, ah,” he scolded, wagging his finger at you. “backwards. want ya to look at your daddy while your uncle Tommy fucks ya.” he grinned.
you flushed, turning back to look at joel for approval. he nodded, pausing his stroking to gesture you to get on with it. “c’mon, pup. don’t be rude now, we’re a guest in y’uncle tommy’s house.”
tommy tsked behind you, shaking his head at your hesitation to obey him. “gotta teach that mutt some respect, joel.” he said, but there was no real heat behind it.
both the brothers chuckled at that. “oh, we’ll be workin’ on it.” he murmured, bringing his palm up to his mouth to spit on it, coating his cock in the saliva. “now ‘pologise t’tommy, puppy.”
you turned back to Tommy sheepishly, chewing on the corner of your mouth. “m’sorry, uncle tommy.”
tommy cracked you a smile, patting his lap to signal you to get started. “s’water under the bridge, sweetie”
joel grunted approvingly from across the room so you took that as a sign to get started. you turned around so you were facing joel and at first, awkwardly lowered yourself onto his lap.
tommy adjusted you in the new position, setting both your feet either side of his thighs on the couch. you watched joel perk up a little now that he could see you better, hand settled heavily over his hard length. you hovered over tommy’s cock as he moved your panties to the side, being too eager to feel that pup cunt wrapped around his cock to take them off.
the slide down was an insane mix of agony and pleasure, as much as joel fucked you, you never quite got used to having a penis inside of you, so the first few strokes were always a challenge. “just look at y’daddy,” tommy hushed in an attempt to distract you from the stretch. “focus on him while i fuck this hole, honey.”
“d-daddy,” you sobbed.
“s’okay, just keep watchin’ y’daddy stroke f’ya, pup,” joel coaches. “doin’ uncle tommy a real favour there, kid.”
your eyes fluttered shut despite joel and Tommy’s orders to keep them open. tommy lifts you up off his cock slowly, admiring the pretty mess of arousal you were making before dropping you back down. he loved the way you took his cock, your slow, slightly clumsy bounces which were more Tommy’s moving than anything else, the way you whimpered at the very much welcome intrusion. “oh, there we go,” tommy purred. “i know, puppy. m’listenin’ t’ya. tell us, huh?”
“so good.. feels s-so good..” you moaned. your hypnotised by pleasure as he bounces you on his dick, no doubt bruising your cervix. you’d thought since you’d never played with tommy that it would take some getting used to — boy were you wrong. of course it wasn’t better than joel, i mean how could it be? but uncle tommy certainly knew his way around pleasuring a pup.
joel’s harsh voice snapped you out of your haze, your eyes being forced to open. his hand was moving a little faster — a little rougher. daddy was clearly enjoying the view. “hey — what’d i tell ya bout’ lookin’ over here?”
tommy chuckled with a shake of his head, muttering “hard ass” under his breath as joel scolded you.
“c’mon, cut her some slack, big brother. dumb lil pup’s head’s gone all fuzzy from her uncle tommy, ain’t that right?” tommy interrupted, giving your ass a rough squeeze, hips thrusting up faster, enough to make you squeal.
“yeah — mmm.. m’sorry, daddy, s’just.. oh — uncle tommy’s just fucking me so g-good — !” you yelped, letting tommy take over completely now, slamming your hips up and down on his lap, plunging his dick in and out of that hole.
joel rolled his eyes, but he was clearly enjoying the show. “whatever. you make sure y’ain’t make no mess on uncle tommy now like we agreed. only daddy can make ya cum, yeah?”
you nodded your head, biting down on your lip and making sure to keep your eyes on joel. you punched out a moan when Tommy’s cock finally hit that spot on your walls, his dick grazing it just right. your body went limp on his lap, shaking with each thrust up and eyes rolling back. “ohhh, that’s the spot, huh?” tommy asked. you didn’t answer, too lost in your haze.
“fuck,” tommy complained, speeding his thrusts up. “joel, she’s gone dumb on me again.”
joel sighed, leaning back into the chair comfortably as he fucked his fist, muttering about how you always get like this when you were stuffed full. he clicked his fingers twice to get your attention. “c’mon, puppy, eyes on me. you’re slackin’ kid, you’re uncle tommy’s gettin’ close n’ya ain’t even bouncin’ for ‘im.”
you whined but didn’t argue, forcing yourself to regain some strength and get back to bouncing, keeping your eyes locked on joel’s and all the while having to hold in that orgasm you were dangerously close to.
Tommy’s groans and moans started to get louder, his tip twitching inside you as an indicator of his impending release. “you close, joel?” tommy choked.
joel nodded, head lolling back in his own pleasure at watching his girl being fucked.
“was thinkin’ we could both finish on the mutts face. figure she’ll want her daddy’s cum too.” tommy explained, forcing you to bounce a little harder with both hands on your waist.
“ah! tom-my!” you called out in pleasure.
tommy ignored your screams as he fucked you while joel nodded in response, too fucked out to answer his brother. joel got up suddenly, clearly feeling the urge to cum already. tommy lifted you up off his lap, urgently helping you to your knees in front of him as joel towered over you.
“daddy..” you called, feeling especially on display for the two men, anxiety bubbling up in your chest. “shh, puppy. gotta just take these loads on that pretty face, yeah? don’t gotta think about nothin’.”
tommy’s hands settled heavily on your cheekbone while Joel’s settled on your other, both brothers touching you, oh, so tenderly while jerking their cocks to blow their loads on your face. the anxiety was still there, but it was over powered by something else. an excitement. an excitement to be claimed by somebody other than joel.
“tell us baby,” tommy croaked, tugging his dick in his fist, matching his brothers pace.
joel chimed in, groaning as he did. “tell us how back you want our cum, pup.”
you huffed out a whimpery sound, tears welling in your eyes. “mm.. w-want your cum, please..” you begged quietly. you watched the brothers exchange a look as if they were trying to decide whether that was enough, but with their ages, they had to let themselves give in.
“fuck — here it comes.” tommy grunted.
“tongue out, pup.” joel warned.
you stuck your tongue out just in time, wide and flat just like daddy had taught you. the first spurt of cum came from tommy, a small glob landing right between your eyes while joel followed shortly after, his glob landing over your tongue and lips.
both of the men’s groans seemed to fade into one as you let yourself be a cum dump for them, tongue wide and drooling as you took their now mixed sperm on your face while they cooed you through it.
after @gutsby 's recent disappearance, i decided to compile all of her fics that i could find, originally for my own reading purposes because i, too, loved her fics. in light of all of the distraught posts and comments that have followed, i have decided to create and post this list for easy access (through compiling already existing findable reblogs, i haven't copied, downloaded, or reposted anything, i'm just putting everything in one place). discovering that you're suddenly unable to reach a favorite blog or never got to finish a well written fic sucks, so i hope y'all are able to find what you're looking for here. if you have any fics of hers reblogged that i've missed feel free to send them my way so i can add them here.
please note these might only be expandable/readable on desktop.
another note for those that are concerned: this list has gutsby's approval.
Waiting Game: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Extras More Extras Even More Extras Another Extra
chapters 1-8 can also be found on her ao3 which is still up!
Make It Stick: Prequel Part 1 Part 2 More Old!Joel Even More Another
🌸 Seeing Pink: "Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take."
📺 My Body, His Choice: "After a long day, Joel just needs some relief."
🌡️ Cabin Fever: "Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price."
💧 Brighter Times: "You've always been Joel's favorite. Always."
🩸 Wingman: "Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you."
↳ thank you @clawdee for the link!
🚸 Love Tap: "Old habits die hard with your husband–touching you at inappropriate times is one of them."
🗑️ Trashed: "You fuck Joel in his filthy double-wide."
↳ thank you @pedrosprisonbitch for the link!
📚 Wants and Needs: "Bills are high; your dad's boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him–for now."
🍼 Cry, Baby: "Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That's all."
🧺 Who's Your Daddy?: "You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out."
🍑 Just Peachy: "Joel's got a jealous streak and a bold idea."
🍺 Cowboy Killers: "On a mission to find–and fight–your best friend's lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair."
💵 Easy to Please: "Months pass, and you can't make rent–again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again."
🍍 If You Like Piña Coladas: "You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn't need one."
⚾️ Heavy Hitter: "A kick in the dick is a strange way to get a man's attention, but Coach Miller doesn't mind at all."
🎬 Too Close for Comfort: "You've been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, you're surfing the web on her dad's computer, and you find some...unusual things in his search history."
chapter summary: Joel takes you home. Tommy puts a little strain on your just-mended fence.
pairing: joel miller x f!reader [no use of y/n]
chapter pairings: ellie & joel & reader, tommy & joel & reader, joel x reader
word count: 5.5k (110k total)
warning: references to alcohol use; sexual content (dirty talk, teasing, grinding, slight somno if you squint, joel gets you to beg for it). see masterlist for overall story notes and warnings. @macaroni676 @orcasoul <3
It had been a hell of a long time since anybody had wrapped their arms around Joel's neck and breathed 'take me home' against his lips like a promise, so maybe his expectations were skewed, but the evening didn't quite pan out the way he'd been imagining it would.
Joel figured he'd be the first to hop in the shower, figured you would stand in the bathroom or maybe sit on the sink and talk to him through steam-thick air as he rinsed the day's horse-hair and adrenaline off his skin. He figured he'd keep you company through your own shower afterward―figured he'd ask about your day and tell you about Silas's endless chatter and then he'd peek behind the shower curtain to make you laugh and he'd only tease you a little, only enough that you would know what Joel had in mind for you next.
But you had wanted to shower before him, had said through whiskey giggles that you were cold and needed warmth, and Joel had immediately surrendered. He'd taken in lungfuls of mint-tinged air and the story of your day with Tommy, heart spurring a little faster at the details of not one, but two frightfully close calls. You'd wrapped a towel around your body and the two of you had switched places, but you'd wandered out into the other room to grab clean clothes, laughing over Joel's assurances they weren't necessary. Somewhere along the way, you'd gotten distracted by your bed and those pretty giggles went quiet, even after he called your name.
Joel stepped out into your bedroom to find you curled up on your side, the skin of your thighs aglow in the bathroom-light, the sweet curve of your ass peeking out from beneath the t-shirt you'd fallen asleep in.
If you'd been going drink for drink with Tommy, you might've had enough whiskey in your veins to knock out a peewee football team for all Joel knew, coach and all. So he pulled the blankets up from the foot of the bed and switched on your bedside lamp before sliding in beside you, holding your body against his and breathing in the warm-sun, vanilla scent of your skin. You clung to him, wrapping your arms around his back and nuzzling against the center of his chest, humming a low, warm sound that reverberated through him like he was the one making it.
You stroked your own arm as you slept, the same way you'd done at the firewatch, dragging a fingertip over your hand and forearm in looping whorls. You hadn't done it any of the other nights you'd spent with Joel, leading him to wonder if there was some common thread that tied the two nights together.
The humming was back, too―it wasn't quite a melody that meandered around in your chest, just soft, lilting notes that made him think of a sunny-morning meadow. Joel drifted off to the sound and to the subtle dance of your wrist moving against his back.
Hours or minutes later, he surfaced from sleep, gentle and warm, lying flat on his back as you lightly stroked your fingertips over the skin of his neck, the plane of his chest, the curve of his jaw, still humming those same soft, wandering sounds. He returned the touch as best he could with his arm pinned beneath you, only able to reach your upper arm and the bend of your shoulder. The skin beneath his fingertips was impossibly soft but far too cool to the touch. Joel tugged the blankets up over you and was swiftly lulled back under as your hands and your voice washed over him.
So when he woke again in quiet dawn-light, rested and peaceful for the first time he could remember, Joel wasn't exactly surprised to still feel those gentle touches against his chest and shoulder. But as he lay there dozing, thinking about tracing his fingers over your skin in return but too content to move, the effects of your touch steadily grew harder to ignore, leaving Joel thinking about giving you more than just sleepy, tickling grazes. He shifted lightly against the sheets, body growing restless with need.
Joel almost always seemed to want you most in the mornings. The handful of sunrises he'd held you through had been a precious torment, desire and decency making a battlefield of him as he relished in the feel of your body against his. But he'd stuck to his guns―more or less―and though he'd done a little fooling around with his line-stepping wildcat as you'd waited for your concussion to clear, you hadn't crossed over from sleeping together to sleeping together.
Finally, your headache had faded days ago and never returned, and Joan released you back to work―and 'normal activity as tolerated'―early yesterday morning. And now here you were, pressed against him from temple to toes, fingertips trailing over his skin lightly enough that Joel kept getting goosebumps.
He was absolutely aching for you and half-tempted to wake you up properly, but he hesitated, not wanting to drag you out of sleep and into a hangover. Lord knew how much 'unwinding' you and Tommy had done last night after the day y'all had had.
But your hands were sending whispers of electricity through him and his restraint was wearing thin.
You shifted in your sleep, that soft, grazing touch drifting from his shoulder to his chest and then down over his ribs, making Joel's muscles twitch against the intense feeling. Cool fingertips danced over his stomach, and while the skin was so much less sensitive, Joel couldn’t relax, anticipation wrapping around him like a fist. Your touch whispered over the hair scattered just above the waistband of his worn-soft cotton pants and he nearly came unglued, a sharp inhale catching in his chest.
The sweet hum you gave didn't sound like some sleepy almost-melody, it sounded like a pleased little moan, and Joel finally thought to wonder if you had woken up at some point. All his 'if' and uncertainty vanished, though, as those grazing fingers skimmed over the outline of his dick, making him take a shaky, slow breath. You nuzzled against him, lifting your chin to press a kiss to his neck.
"You're a surprisingly hard man to wake, handsome," you said softly, touch roving lightly over his hips and thighs.
"Been awake a while," he said, surprising himself by not sounding half as tense and wrecked as he felt.
"Just laying there, letting me touch you?" You dragged your fingers over the hard length of him again.
Joel's fingers tensed, nearly clawing against your shoulder as his thighs flexed, trying not to lift his hips up into your touch.
"Been touchin' me all night, wildcat," he said. "Not that I'm complainin'."
"What do you mean?" You sounded a little confused, hand coming to his stomach and stilling there, sending him aching from the loss of feeling. "Touching you how?"
Mischief and desire coiled in his belly.
"Like this," Joel said, putting a hand against your upper chest to coax you onto your back as he rolled onto his side against you, reversing your positions.
He offered you a demonstration, fingertips wandering lightly against the skin of your neck and the angle of your jaw. You closed your eyes and tipped your head toward him, allowing Joel better access as you made a sound of pleasure.
"See?" He left a soft kiss on your temple. "That's why I wasn't complainin'."
Joel traced over the crook of your shoulder and your clavicle and he gave a tsk at the feel of thick cotton between his skin and yours.
"This spot was my favorite," he said lowly. "Well, second favorite. But I think it prob'ly ain't the same if there's fabric in-between."
"Then show me," you said, nails grazing over his arm all the way up his shoulder, sending a prickle of electricity over his skin.
So his touch went lower, skimming the tips of his fingers over your thighs, pushing the hem of your shirt up as he went. The same touch lifted the fabric up over your hips, with Joel taking his time offering those light grazes to the creases of your thighs, sending you arching your back and parting your legs for him, even giving him a desperate little whine as that gentle, wandering pressure just barely brushed between your legs before moving on.
"Joel," you breathed, but there was no direction in it, no demand, just tasting his name on your tongue.
He wanted you to say it again, wanted to hear you plead and sigh and moan his name, over and over. Wanted it to dance on your tongue and crumble in your throat, wanted it to be the breath in your lungs, the sound on your lips.
Higher and higher, Joel stroked your skin, rucking the shirt up over your stomach with reverent, light touches that sprawled toward your chest. His fingers rose along your rib cage, swirling over your flank as you sighed and pulled your shoulders back, letting him touch more of you, always more of you.
The lower curve of your breast was high on Joel's list of his very favorite parts of you to touch. So soft and smooth and warm, and every time his skin met yours there, you―
You made a small, pleading whimper and satisfaction washed over Joel like a wave.
"I know, darlin'," he said, almost pained as his fingers slid beneath your shirt to trace up and back down over the valley between your breasts.
Joel mustered just enough cruelty to tease you, his touch retreating back along your rib cage, dancing over you until you shifted beneath him, trying to coax his fingertips up toward your chest.
"Please," you asked, all breath and so little voice. "Joel..."
There was definitely some demand in his name that time, sending a squeeze of pleasure through Joel that made his muscles tighten, his cock lightly pressing into your hip.
Your hand reached for him, but he caught it in his own.
"What is it, baby?" he bade you, bringing your hand to his lips to leave kisses over your wrist and the base of your thumb before nestling his cheek into your palm. "Tell me what you need."
Without him deciding to, Joel's fingers returned to your skin, painting temptation over your ribs where they began to give rise to your breasts.
"Touch me," you said, eyes falling closed as you arched into his touch. "Fuck, it's so good when you touch me."
"I am touchin' you, ain't I?"
"Higher."
Joel's fingers skated up your side, barely grazing the outer swell of your breast, then following the curve around to the center of your chest.
You made a pretty little heart-deep moan that Joel wanted to fold up and carry around in his shirt pocket. Seeking a repeat, he circled his touch around your other breast, nails rasping gently against you, and he was rewarded with an even sweeter sound.
Fingers just barely whispering against your skin, Joel slid his hands into the neck of the shirt, widening the opening to slip it over your head and then pulling it off along your arms.
When you lay bare before him, Joel let his eyes feast for a greedy moment, taking in the sight of every curve and line.
"More beautiful every time I see you, angel."
As his fingertips finally moved over your shoulder and up the slope of your neck, light as he could muster, you rolled your head to the side to give him more space to touch. Your pulse pounded in your throat and he traced it softly as you gave a rumbling little hum. Joel bowed into your neck to replace his touch with a kiss, the stubble around his lips brushing against your skin, coaxing another moan from his wildcat as you writhed against him.
"Better when I touch or kiss you here, sugar?" he prompted.
"Kiss," you said, a little shakily. "Definitely kiss."
Hmm.
"How 'bout here?" He dragged his fingertips over your collarbones, then left a trail of light kisses in a meandering line. "Touch or kiss?"
"Touch," you replied. "Please. Again."
Joel obeyed, skimming over your upper chest again. As you breathed into the feeling, his fingertips drifted lower, leaving a light, wandering touch over your breasts, your nipples stiffening in his wake. His kisses were open-mouthed and nuzzling, teasing his tongue and the stubble of his cheek and the soft worship of his lips against you.
"Touch or kiss?" he asked.
"Both, fuck." Your hands reached for him, one sinking into his hair, the other touching the hand that was touching you. "God, Joel, everything. More."
Lower and lower, Joel made his way over every bit of skin he could reach, your ribs, your stomach, your flanks and hips as you hummed your encouragement and impatience, telling him whether you preferred the feeling of his hands or his mouth.
Joel's fingers dipped between your legs, flitting over you and just barely making contact as you gasped. His mouth followed with the faintest pressure, his tongue trailing and tasting and promising, pulling back slightly when your hips lifted toward him, seeking a more intense feeling.
When he prompted you for your verdict that time, you went off-script.
"Quit holding out on me, cowboy," you said, breathless as your fingers flared out over his scalp, cradling his head and bringing his face up to yours. "You know what I want."
He hummed a hungry, pleased sound against your mouth, holding his body overtop of yours and grazing his lips against yours but not quite kissing you.
"And what is it that you want, wildcat?"
Your hands left his neck, sliding down over his chest, and then his sides, until your fingertips met his waistband and slipped beneath. Feeling raced through him like a lit fuse and Joel gave a soft bite to the side of your throat.
You traced the band's path around to the drawstring, tugging the bow loose and then hooking your thumbs into the fabric. You were not hesitant or shy in pushing his pants over his hips, then his ass, then his thighs, until your hands could reach no further.
Joel slipped them off the rest of the way and you helpfully toed the bundle of cotton loose from his legs.
Your soft, cool hands traced back up over him, soothing the heat of his skin as you swept them over his hips and back. You took so much heat from Joel that by the time you paced your hands back down his sides, you'd warmed to match him.
"I want you, Joel," you said at last, your touch skating low against his stomach and grazing over the length of him. "I want all of you."
You wrapped your hand around him and Joel took a full, deep breath that felt like the first he'd ever known.
"I want you inside me," you continued, staking your claim and stroking him slowly as his breath fled him in damn near a tremble. "Filling me up, over and over."
It wasn't gonna be a whole lot of 'over and over' if you kept touching him like that. Mercifully, you didn't keep it up for long.
Ever an impatient thing, you wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled him down to you, guiding the tip of his cock against your wet, perfect heat. And though Joel had every intention of just letting you go on as long as you wanted, that first touch set a match to every bit of planning and restraint in his body. It smoldered in him, just waiting for the flame to catch.
――――――――――-
You were going to burn up from the inside if Joel made you wait any longer.
You whined his name, arms curving around his neck. But he held himself apart from you, even as he laid sweet, tempting kisses over your face and neck.
"I know, wildcat," Joel soothed, breathing deeply against your throat and flexing his hips, deliberately teasing you with what you wanted―what you were embarrassingly close to begging for. "But we ain't got nowhere to be. I got the whole day off, and by God, I mean to use it."
"Well, then get to using it, already," you said, playing at reproach. "You're wasting daylight, cowboy."
"Ain't a waste, I'm just takin' my sweet time." He slid his hand up your chest and over your throat, cradling the curve of your jaw and kissing you, deep and slow enough to make you writhe against him, desperate to be closer. Joel's voice was low and rough when he spoke next, eyes scanning your face. "Waited so long for you, darlin', I damn sure ain't gonna rush."
He flexed his hips again, pressing himself against you and almost, almost inside of you. Your gasp turned into a moan, then crumbled into something close to a sob of frustration.
"Please," you urged, trying to pull him against you with your arms around his shoulders and your legs at his hips.
But he just kept touching you, kissing you. So you tried cheating instead.
"Joel," you breathed, and he made a humming sound of pleasure against your throat, hand drifting down to graze over your breast.
He always looked a little pleased when you gave him his name. Always kissed you a little harder, held you a little tighter, pulled you a little closer.
"Please, Joel. I need you."
It might've been cheating, but it seemed to get the job done.
"You sound so goddamn pretty beggin' me to fuck you," he praised, pressing against you. "You can wait just a little longer, though, angel."
Joel lowered himself down onto his elbows, body tight against yours, skin furnace-warm even in the chill morning air.
"Might take my pretty little wildcat apart again and again, so fuckin' slow. Be so good to you, make you all relaxed and happy." His touch roamed down over you, alternating between light teasing and greedy handfuls. "Don't that sound like a hell of a way to spend a day?"
You smiled and moaned against his mouth, pulling him close and then rolling your hips against him. If he was set on dragging this out, you'd just have to strain his composure. Someone would win eventually.
"You going soft on me or something, Miller?"
You nipped at his lip gently, but if anything, his kisses only got slower, softer.
"Mmm," he hummed, hand sliding up to cradle your face. "Y'know what, darlin'? I reckon I might be."
Painfully sweet as this all was, after two and a half weeks of constant proximity and false-starts, you'd just about run out of patience for nice and slow and soft.
You hooked your leg around Joel's, then wrapped your hand around his arm on the same side. In one fast, fluid motion, you tugged on both limbs and pushed off with your other leg, rolling the both of you over before he could figure out what was happening. You towered over him, straddling his hips and wrestling down a smirk as confusion gave way to amusement in Joel's eyes.
"You takin' charge, sugar?"
"There'll be plenty of days for you to tease me, handsome." You skimmed your fingers over his chest, down his rib cage, and to his waist. Your hands slid over Joel's and brought them over your thighs, trailing higher and higher. "But right now, I want you to show me what you meant when you said you had to be gentle with me when I was hurt so you could be rough with me later."
"Is it later, wildcat?" His grip hardened over your thighs, kneading the soft skin as he looked you over.
You nodded and then bowed over him, kissing his chest and neck.
"I think it's later, cowboy."
"No thinkin'," Joel said, hands sliding up to your hips and tightening, holding you close enough against his arousal that it sent a thrill through you. "You'll tell me what you want, sugar, or you'll take what I give you."
Either one sounded good to you. You rocked against him and the tip of his cock brushed over your clit, making you moan.
"I want everything, Joel," you said in his ear, body setting a rhythm with your hips without your conscious say-so. "Everything you've been thinking about, everything you've been holding back. I want it all."
Joel groaned as you left claiming kisses and taunting little bites everywhere you could reach, still fucking yourself against him.
"You want it all, huh?" he asked, matching your pace and holding you close against him.
When you hummed your assent, his warm hands grabbed your ass just this side of roughly, lifting you up onto your knees. The suddenness of it threw you off-balance and you caught yourself just shy of colliding into Joel, your hands sinking into the pillow as they landed on either side of his head.
His hold on your hips tightened into something claiming as he positioned you to take him.
A solid, wooden sound grabbed your attention and your stomach dropped as you turned your head toward the open bedroom door, breaking the kiss.
"You gotta be fucking kidding me," you mumbled, huddling down against him. And though you hadn’t noticed the telltale sounds of him jogging up the porch steps or opening the front door, you did finally catch on when your living room floorboards creaked under a heavy, familiar gait.
Joel groaned and put his hands in your hair, pulling you close and burying his face in your neck.
"Got your customary ass-save breakfast sandwich," Tommy's voice called through the house. "Even put it on French toast for you."
A hot, rumbling breath poured against your throat as Joel wrapped his arms around you and made a noise of seething disbelief.
"You sure you couldn't've let that fucker shoot him yesterday?" he whispered. "Just in the leg?"
Your chest shook with quiet laughter, winding your fingers into Joel's almost-curly hair and cradling his head against you.
"I'll definitely weigh my options next time," you whispered back, putting a kiss on his forehead. "Maybe he'll go away? Assume I'm not here?"
Tommy moved through the house a few more seconds and you thought you might die from preemptive embarrassment, lying against Joel and trying not to move.
"Jesus, you ain't still asleep up there, are you? Didn't give you that much whiskey."
Those thudding footsteps echoed towards the stairwell and you took a sharp breath, bunching up your shoulders and shrinking down further into Joel.
Joel turned you both over onto your sides, wrapping himself protectively around you and shielding your body from view with his own as he finally spoke, low and warning.
"Come up them steps and I'll knock you straight back down 'em."
There wasn't a hint of humor in him, but you still had to pinch your lips between your teeth to hold in a laugh.
Absolute silence followed for three full breaths, finally broken by the sound of Tommy's boots on your floor, lighter and slower as he retreated from the foot of the stairs.
"Thank god you didn't wanna rush, huh?" you teased, whispering against Joel's temple.
He gave a seething hum and bit at your neck, rolling you onto your back and pressing against you hard enough to nearly feel like a threat.
"Keep it up and I'll take out my frustration on you instead of Tommy."
"Mmm, promise?" you asked, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him closer. You put your lips to Joel's and he deepened the kiss immediately, sounding strained when you bit his lip in encouragement.
"Get your pretty little ass out of this bed, wildcat," he warned, raising his voice to call out, "'fore I change my mind and just let Tommy hear what he ends up hearin'."
―――――――――――-
"Tommy's heard plenty, thanks," he hollered from his spot next to the kitchen island. "Tommy never wants to hear anything again, actually."
He hadn't heard much, thank Christ, except some giggling just then. Still, Tommy reckoned his days of barging into your house without knocking―or Joel's, for that matter―were officially behind him now. Some risks just ain't worth taking.
Maybe he was an idiot for not thinking about it before opening your door, given what he'd heard you say to Joel last night, but really, Tommy'd just figured that even if Joel had taken you home, he still would've been gone by now. The man wasn't usually one for sleeping in, and more often than not had started his day before the sun came up.
Though it didn't sound like sleeping in was what you and Joel had been doing up there. Tommy grimaced and shook his head, trying to shake loose that godawful mental image.
His big brother and his best fuckin' friend.
Or maybe the order needed to be switched on those last two words.
Eugh.
It wasn't that he was bothered by it, exactly―you and Joel made a fine match, though you both had a bloody past and some jagged edges, not to mention that neither of y'all was much good at compromise or being denied.
A quiet shadow coiled around his heart, and Tommy began to fret. Being loyal to both halves of a couple came with a hell of a downside: if things blew up between you two, Tommy might end up losing one or both of you all over again.
Sounds of movement drifted through the house, you and Joel making your way downstairs to Tommy. Sheepish discomfort displaced that fretful shadow, making him a little restless.
Maybe he shoulda just left, but hell, wouldn't that just make it weirder for longer? He'd finally started to get things back towards normal with you, he couldn't stand the notion of losing ground on account of some piddly little awkwardness.
So Tommy loosened his shoulders and put some ease into his posture, just in time to see you coming down the stairs with Joel not far behind.
There was a little glow to your face that Tommy didn't particularly want to consider the origin of, but Joel didn't wear a goddamn hint of it; rather, his face was painted with something so close to a scowl that Tommy very nearly laughed out loud.
If looks could kill, Tommy would be a dead man.
He held up his breakfast offering and you reached out to take it.
"Enh," he grunted, pulling back the paper-wrapped sandwich before your fingers could close around it. "Wash your hands, dirty bird."
You shoved Tommy's shoulder hard enough to stagger him, but you laughed. You held your hands out toward his face, threatening to touch him as he yielded a step back.
"Washed 'em upstairs, goofball," you said, putting your hands on his cheeks, giggle turning to a cackle when Tommy flinched and pushed away your soap-scented touch.
He handed over your breakfast and you nodded your thanks, setting it on the counter for a second while you filled the kettle and set it on the stove.
"You off today, too?" you asked.
Tommy nodded.
"Gonna try and tackle that damn washing machine once and for all." He took an elderly apple from the bowl on your counter and polished it on his shirtsleeve. "Lamar reckons I can get another few months out of the belt if I grease it up good and maybe hit it with a heat gun. Bit tricky to get to the damn thing, though, so I was thinkin'..."
Tommy turned pointedly to Joel and raised his brows as he took a bite of the apple.
"I want you to play back the last five minutes in that thick-ass head of yours," Joel grumbled, "'fore you go 'thinkin'' about askin' me for so much as goddamn pat on the back, little brother."
You masterfully disguised your laugh as a cough as you worked on the first bite of your breakfast.
"God, this is really good," you marveled, offering Joel a bite. He shook his head and you pointed from Tommy to the other half of the sandwich, still wrapped on the counter. "Tom?"
"All yours." He waved you off, heart straining a little fuller and warmer. "You earned it."
"Suit yourselves," you said, then hummed a sound and paused your chewing to add, "She'll eat the other half" just as Ellie threw open the door.
The girl frowned as she surveyed the room.
"The hell is this? You jerks are having breakfast without me?"
"She's havin' breakfast, pup," Tommy said, pointing at you as you were sliding the other half of your sandwich across the kitchen island toward Ellie, and then he pointed at himself. "I'm droppin' it off 'cause rules are rules, and your old man is...here."
That got her attention to shift to Joel, at least. Ellie squinted his way, then brightened.
"Ooh, that's yesterday's shirt―did someone sleep here last night?" she asked, her voice all teasing and singsong. "Joel, you..scoundrel!"
Joel's ears went red and he turned to Tommy.
"So...that washer of yours..."
You burst into laughter, but Tommy wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.
"C'mon then," he said.
"Walk of shame!" Ellie called after Joel, unzipping her coat and loosing the orphaned squirrel pups you and her had been looking after.
Tommy turned back to the lot of y'all, you girls across the house and his brother a few steps at his heel.
"'Fore I forget―see y'all at the Fourth of July thing later?"
Joel shrugged and motioned impatiently toward the door. Ellie hummed an affirmative as she dug into the other half of the sandwich with a curious ball of fur perched on either shoulder. But you made a groaning ugh noise, clanking your kettle against the countertop.
"Fuck, is that today?"
You swore again when Tommy nodded.
"I thought you liked Fourth of July," he said, hand on the doorknob.
"Eugene's light thing always makes me barf."
"'Light thing'?" Ellie asked, muffled by a mouthful of eggs and bread.
"Can't exactly do fireworks anymore," Tommy said by way of explanation.
"Much as Eugene begs to differ," you said, filling two of the three mugs before you.
"He always does." Tommy shook his head.
The industrious spark-plug of an old fella had argued his case passionately to the council, like he did every year. But eventually he was forced to admit―as he always was―that literally beckoning Infected toward Jackson with explosions of light and sound was probably a bad idea, no matter how clever he'd been in figuring out how to do it. He'd masterminded another indoor laser light show instead.
Still, though...
"Don't think the lights are why you barf, Rager," Tommy said with raised brows and a knowing tilt of his head. He turned his gaze to Joel. "Any booze with bubbles, and that gal of yours ends up sleeping on her back porch. Says the oak tree 'grounds her and makes her stop spinning.'"
You sputtered a laugh into your tea, and Tommy took note of the shift in Joel's brow, the slight tension that pulled at the corners of his eyes and lips as he failed to fully hold back a smile.
"No way, drunk Doc sounds awesome," Ellie said, beaming at you. "I'm stealing a bottle, I gotta put that away for an emergency."
You were still laughing together as Tommy and Joel left a moment later.
"How come I don't get a sandwich when I save your ass?" Joel asked.
Tommy shrugged. "Never asked for one."
"Didn't know it was an option," Joel said, tucking his hands in his coat pockets. "Smelled good, though."
"Well, shit, come on then," Tommy said, bumping his elbow against Joel and gesturing him down the sidewalk. "I ain't makin' another one, but I'll buy your ornery ass some breakfast 'fore we get started."
"Owe me a hell of a lot more'n some goddamn eggs after what you just busted up." Joel scowled and shoved at his brother with his shoulder. "Fuck. Worse than when we were kids."
"Ease off, old fella," Tommy said with a grin, poking the bear. "Didn't sound like it was goin' all that well anyhow. Dead silent when I walked in. Mighta heard her snoring."
"It was goin' just fine, trust me. Jesus Christ, you know that was the third fuckin' time you did that?" Joel said, shaking his head. "I oughta put your ass on the ground, Tommy."
Tom's shoulders shook with laughter, even knowing there was a non-zero chance Joel would actually deliver on his threat. Some impish, shithead-little-brother corner of him delighted in cockblocking Joel; didn't matter that it hadn't been intentional to start with, he was gonna irritate the hell out of the man for at least an entire meal.
We need more AU Daryl Dixon! Specifically about AU sexual pollen. I've only read two sex pollen fics with Daryl and that's not enough!
I have a very bad memory for names and tags are useless. But one was about the reader picking a flower and Daryl later realizing it was a flower with sexual pollen that Merle gave him when they were younger.
I had only read about sexual pollen in other characters (non-TWD) and I think it would be interesting to read about Daryl or the reader being so physically needy and with a lot of begging.
I'll look in the notes app on my other phone to see what the fics are. English is not my first language.
content: going on a supply run with daryl, a hunting attempt gone wrong leads him hiding in a bush with some very... strange symptoms. (it’s sex pollen)
day what fucking ever of cher's kinktober !!
comments and reblogs are much held very dear to my heart
Daryl Dixon has been pissy the last 20 minutes.
He'd been this way since you’d gone into town on a supply run, you’d checked a house while he went after the deer he’d seen in the yard. Because that was one thing you were coming to terms with in the post-outbreak world: deer and other such animals felt comfortable wandering deep into towns and cities.
He’d come back after a few hours, no deer, but visibly tense.
It made sense. Really, it did. Because if you knew Daryl- which you very well did- then you knew he tended to get pissy when he came back from anything empty handed. Especially when the aforementioned thing happened to be his bread and butter.
So you'd done the (slightly nonsensical) act of opening your mouth in an attempt to console him.
“You can go back out, I don’t mind-”
The glare he shot you had your mouth clamping shut instantly though, the rest of the sentence be damned.
Anyone could call you dumb, but they could never call you stupid. And you weren’t planning on taking the downright moronic approach of getting further on Daryl’s nerves when he was in a mood. Even with the last few months having been good between the two of you, you'd seen what he was like in said mood before, and you wanted none of it.
Despite the tension, he helps you scavenge for a bit. And honestly? It has you on edge.
He’s aggressive with it. Aggressive in the way he gets when he’s drunk. The tension is thick enough you could cut it with a knife.
Finally- suddenly, even, when your back is turned to him, he groans low, followed by a clatter made only louder in the silence, and he mutters a quick, “Goin’ out.”
There’s an unspoken ‘stay here’.
He’s gone before you can say anything.
It’s not until a good hour later that he comes back. His flannel’s tied around his waist, revealing the toned biceps you hadn’t seen since the warmer half of fall. You can tell he's overheated even from afar.
He’d look damn good if there wasn’t something so unsettling about the look on his eyes.
“Did you-“
“Walkers got it.” He cuts you off. His voice is thicker than usual.
“…You get bit?”
Daryl gives you an incredulous look, “Fuck you askin’ that for?”
“You’re actin' all pissy and weird- you drunk?”
“It’s noon.” He refutes, as if you’re somehow the one that’s acting off.
“Then fuck’s wedged up your ass?”
He’s silent for a long moment, “'llergic to something out here.”
A smile crosses your lips, thinking that maybe some banter would distract him from whatever funk he was in, “Didn’t think you got allergies-“
“Shut the fuck up, will ya?”
You take a step back as if he’d slapped you. Daryl had spoken to you like that before, sure. You’d slapped him for it more than once. But that’d been at the beginning. Back before he’d calmed down a bit and gotten used to being part of the group.
So why the hell was he acting up again?
“You’re so sick? Go look in the damn cellar then.” You snap finally, more hurt by his words than you're willing to let on, “Or a bedroom for a nap, fuck if I care. Come back once you put your big boy pants on.”
He grumbles something that has you setting down your cans a little rougher before he disappears to the cellar.
You’re not exactly sure how long passes, but the clatter of something in the cellar followed by several grunts has you on guard.
Walker! it's a walker! your brain screams. And no matter mad you are at Daryl, you’re rushing down before you can even fully process it.
But it’s not a walker. It’s Daryl leaned against the wall, pants shoved down around his thighs.
His hand is pumping feverishly around his cock, which in turn is bucking up frantically. His mouth is open, panting shallowly, drool leaking from the side of his chin. He hasn’t seen you yet, eyes squeezed shut as he huffs out a ‘please, please- oh fuck- please’.
Your jaw goes slack. Your hand does too, weapon clattering to the ground.
His eyes shoot open, pupils blown and glossy with tears, staring directly at you.
He cums.
There’s so fucking much of it. You’re not trying to notice, but it’s impossible not to. And you can’t look away.
He’s barely done cumming before he’s practically crying for you, one hand still on his cock, the other trying to push himself up. You have a feeling that if he couldn’t stand, he’d crawl.
It grows increasingly more obvious with every passing second that something is definitely, very not right with him.
“Please, you gotta-“ He rasps, “I don’t- I can’t.”
“What the fuck, Daryl?”
You don’t mean your voice to sound harsh, you really don’t.
But this isn’t Daryl. This isn’t the guy who’ll come by your cell just to sit quietly with you. And while you’d be lying if you said you’d never fantasized about him, you’d also be lying if you said you didn’t think there was something wrong.
“‘M sorry- can’t stop.” He’s panting again, “Figured it was- fuck- and walkers- too many. Saw the bush- didn’t think it’d- damnit- didn’t think it’d do this.”
He’s almost impossible to understand right now, babbling on about walkers and some- fuck. It was coming back to you now, something Eugene had said once. A flowering bush that was sort of… well, natures way of ensuring the next generation.
And while it was late fall and surely it had died by now, actively hiding inside the bush was likely enough for any lingering effects to get pushed onto Daryl.
“C’mon- don’t make me beg.” He pleads, pushing off the wall shakily.
He makes it a few steps before you catch him, supporting his weight as he grasps at you like a lifeline.
While you’re internally debating on if you can even morally fuck him, he’s actively grinding his sensitive cock against the denim of your jean clad crotch, making downright unholy sounds in your ear.
“Fuck- Dar- cool it a second.” You finally get the words out, trying to push him back for a second.
The lack of friction on his cock for that half a second has him looking like he wants to cry. He’s tugging you back within the second, “Can’t do that- fuck- need it-“
His irises are practically eclipsed by his pupils, a pure, rabid hunger in them. He’s clearly deep in the course of the bush’s effects, ration abandoning him.
“Dar, this is- shit- you can’t exactly want this-“
He scoffs, still grinding, clearly thinking you’re joking, “Can.”
You try to pull away again, but his grip is strong. “Daryl, ‘m serious, you’re like horribly under the influence right now- it’s wrong-“
The way the air shifts is practically enough to give you whiplash.
“But it’s not wrong to leave me like this?” He all but snarls, mood flipping in an instant as he reaches for your belt. He doesn’t unbuckle it yet, but his hands are trembling with the need to, “Gonna leave me down here? Hope it goes down? Tha’s not wrong to ya?”
He’s not wrong. Either way wouldn’t exactly be right… and you’d be lying if you said you wanted to leave him like this.
You cave surprisingly easy, considering all your concerns. But then again, you always do when Daryl’s involved.
His eyes darken further than they already were when you spit into your hand, and a whined ‘fuck!’ all but tears from the back of his throat when you wrap it around his aching cock.
His hips are jutting forward frantically, slipping through the ring of your calloused fingers.
He doesn’t say thank you, despite his earlier pleading. But he’s got his lips against your neck, kissing a sloppy and frantic path down to your collarbone and then further down still.
The hands that had been resting on your belt were finally unfrozen, and he all but threw it across the room, pushing your jeans down, and shoving you against the wall, your face resting against the cool stone.
“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.” He pants directly into your ear.
You don’t get the chance to ask what he’s sorry about. Because you hear him spit. You hear the slick sound of him jerking his cock. And then you feel it.
The tip presses against the entrance to your hole. And then he’s pushing in, babbling apologies as he bottoms out in a single thrust.
It hurts so strongly that you can barely focus on the way he babbles almost incoherently in your ear.
You’ve never heard Daryl talk this much. Never heard him make this much noise. But he’s so vocal right now, panting and moaning and babbling about how you feel so damn good around his cock.
Its almost enough to distract from the burning pain of the sudden stretch.
He’s humping into you frantically, moaning and groaning incoherently into your ear as he tries to tug you closer. His hands might as well be bruising your hips- you’re sure there’ll be 10 little bruises by the time the effects of that bush wear off.
And that burning is quickly getting eclipsed by the way he reaches so deep and fills you just right and you're gasping as he drives in over and over and over again.
And he's cumming. He's cumming so fast and so hard that you can barely even process it, despite the warmth that fills and leaks out of you.
It's not enough- you don't even get a few moments of deluding yourself that it could possibly be enough to sate the bush's effects because he's already starting to guide you onto the floor.
Whether his legs gave out or yours did first, you're not sure, you just know that the way he's practically on top of you has your mind dizzy with it. All the while, he's breathing out a string of desperate "please" into your ear, the stuttering of his hips still more irregular than not.
He's babbling directly into your ear, not a word of it understandable, only broken pieces of praise and pleading.
And then he's flipping you onto your back, kissing frantically down your chest like he's running out of time to do it. Each thrust is punctuated with a whine, some incoherent babble, and you're cumming so hard it's almost pathetic.
And he's just. Going. Going. Going. Going.
He's going like he's chasing anything he could ever need, and all he has to do to get it is merge himself into you.
With the way he manhandles you into different positions so often, you're half convinced he's just looking for a way to get deeper inside of you. It's all a haze of white hot pleasure, orgasm after orgasm that you're note even sure he's intentionally giving you, but it's just so much that you can't help it.
And then he finds it. That spot that gets him so deep inside that he gives one last stuttered buck of his hips against your ass and he's crashing over that edge.
There's so much of it that he's not even done cumming before it starts leaking out of you. Not a single thought can even begin to form in your head.
Drool leaks from the corner of your lips, eyes glazed as you look back up at him. You're not even sure how wrecked you look, but in that moment, you're sure Daryl Dixon is off ten times worse than you are.
There's maybe the faintest hint of coherence starting to return back to his eyes, but it's quickly overtaken by sheer exhaustion. He tugs you into his arms and you're pretty sure he's just operating based on whatever his scrambled brain thinks would be good right then, because you've never felt Daryl be this clingy with you- not that you're complaining.
But his head is smushed into your chest and his eyes are already shut and it's so Daryl that your chest practically aches.
Sleep's already halfway overtaken you both when you feel it. His cock- which he'd never had the energy to pull out- twitches deep inside you. The soft whine that tugs from him is muffled by your chest, and it's becoming quite obvious that the effects of the bush haven't quite worn off yet like you'd hoped.
He doesn't ask for it though. Doesn't even try to move his hips beyond a few involuntary twitches. He wants to rest- he wants you to rest, though he's clearly having a hard time with that. So you chose to take mercy on him, rolling him onto his back and starting the whole thing back over again.
