bluelangel - Tumblr blog

[bluelangel]

[bluelangel]

The green children in modern/snapchat au, was inspired heavily by tomcat's version and gabriel picolo! Pls dont repost without credit! (Picolo responded Im so effin happy, also will be doing the blacks version with Jacaerys, Lucerys and Baby Joffrey!)

IG kaka.arts | TWT kaka_arts | YT KakaPHD

[bluelangel]

Comedy of Errors

Based off this post, I had to write a short drabble haha it's been eating at my brain ALL DAY.

Aemond x drunk!reader | hilarity ensues

You were very drunk.

It wasn't often you indulged, but tonight Aegon had successfully persuaded you to down goblet after goblet of wine until the hour grew late and your vision swam before your bleary eyes.

Your husband, throwing a last exasperated look to his elder brother, helped you rise from the table. "Y/N, put your arm around my shoulders. No, my shoulders, Y/N."

With a long-suffering sigh, Aemond grabbed your limp wrist, pulling your arm over his shoulders himself. You giggled madly, egged on by Aegon's tipsy cackles. It was just the three of you remaining in the dining hall, Helaena had long since made her escape back to her chambers.

It was with difficulty Aemond maneuvered you both around the oaken table and to the door. "Good night you two!" Aegon called after your retreating forms, raising another full cup to toast a farewell, sitting now alone inside the firelit hall.

Aemond had indulged in one glass of wine, switching to water for the rest of the evening. He had watched with increasing alarm at how quickly you'd inhaled each refill of your own drink, casting warning glares to his brother whenever Aegon refilled your cup enthusiastically.

You were having a tough time walking, much less being able to see the details of where you were being led. Your voice slurred as you tried to speak to the man helping you to your rooms. "I can quite manage on my own, thank you oh generous lord...lady...whoever you are." You ran a hand along Aemond's chest letting out a giggle. "Lord it is. You're a man."

"Last time I checked." Aemond said dryly, hoisting you back upright as your knees buckled slightly, opening the door to your shared bedroom and guiding you through before relinquishing his hold on you. "I am also your husband."

You collapsed onto the couch. "My husband." You smiled dreamily; eyes taken in by the dancing flames of the fireplace. "My husband is a dragon, you know."

"Is he indeed." Aemond crouched before you to unlace your shoes, smiling slightly as you continued.

"Oh yes." You lifted a heavy foot to aid in the removal of your shoes, your feet aching. "He's tall, like this tall." You raised a limp hand into the air above your head. "His hair is gorgeous. It's ridiculous really, he refuses to tell me the secret."

"Mhm. Go on."

"Yeah...so silky and long...it's not fair. He's smart, like book smart you know?" You tapped your temple with a finger.

"I do." Aemond was making a valiant effort to keep a straight face as he looked up at you from the rug, kneading small circles into the arch of your foot.

"He's brave, he rides Vhagar." You lowered your voice to a whisper at the dragon's name. "The biggest lizard in all the world."

Aemond laughed loudly at that, his voice filling the room. "Does he now? Sounds like quite a man."

"Oh he is." You laid back against the cushions, sighing dreamily, a little trickle of drool running down the corner of your mouth. "He is absolute magic in bed." You sat up again suddenly, swaying as your vision spun. "His cock is about the size of a Pentosi-"

"I think," Aemond interrupted, wiping your mouth with his thumb. "It is quite time for bed, don't you?"

"Mmm, bed." You agreed, trying to stand only to fall back against the sofa, laughing helplessly.

"Here, my love." Aemond, ever patient with you, sat you upright, reaching around your waist to pull at the laces of your dress.

You slapped his hands away, a frown upon your flushed features. "No, no, no, for my husband only."

"Y/N I-"

"No, his hands only touch." You gestured to yourself before raising your arms like a marionette doll. "Help me to bed, Clive."

"I'm having words with Aegon tomorrow." Aemond murmured, knowing that arguing would be useless as he helped you stand and make your stumbling way to the bed.

He tried once more to assist you out of your heavy gown, but you hit at his chest weakly with loose fists. "I'll tell my husband of this behavior; he'll have something to say to you when he finds out."

"Of that, I have no doubt." Aemond sighed, relenting as you shook a stern finger at the bedpost.

You collapsed upon the feather mattress, curling in on yourself as Aemond tucked you into the blankets. He surreptitiously loosened the lacings of your corset so you could at least breathe properly as you slept.

It was not long before your breathing slowed, and you fell into deep slumber.

"That is going to be a hangover sent straight from the seven hells." He muttered, leaning over your sleeping form to place a kiss to your head.

Aemond elected to sleep on the couch that night, fearing you'd wake and panic, thinking a stranger...this mysterious "Clive"...shared your bed. He stoked the fire one last time before changing and settling down under a thin throw blanket. He watched your still body for a time, listening to the occasional soft snores that left your slack mouth, until he too fell into a dreamless sleep, a slight smile still upon his lips.

[bluelangel]

Gifs: daenerys-stormborn

[bluelangel]

[bluelangel]

Go With the Flow

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 3/4 Interim ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: menstrual blood, period, mentions of malnutrition/starvation, mild swearing ❧ Word Count: 5.2k

❧ Summary: Daryl doesn't know much about women. When you have your first period since the two of you got together, he's not so sure what to do for you, but he'll try his very best, that's for damn sure.

❧ A/N: Another oneshot from The Beginning universe! This one takes place during the prison era, after the Governor's first attack but before the incident with Jerome (see chapters 23-24). I wanted to write Daryl going on a little adventure to find period products for his gf. I also just know he would be so good to her. Oh, and I included Glenn and Tyreese too! I never see people writing about Tyreese, so I wanted to have a fun little mission with those guys. Also shout out if you can detect the subtle (or not so subtle?) It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia reference lmao.

Just a few weeks after the Governor had been defeated, and what was left of his former community sought shelter with your group at the prison, you’d begun keeping track of time again.

Your journal had been sitting at the bottom of your pack for a while, but with renewed hope and the beginning of what you believed would be a period of relative peace, you decided there was no better time to begin again. After all, if your group was trying to rebuild some kind of civilization, someone would have to write it all down, right?

When night fell and all the day’s duties of repairing and revamping the abandoned prison were done, you lit a few candles to illuminate the pages of your journal as you wrote, sitting snuggled up in bed and waiting for Daryl to return from his watch.

Trying to get the hang of writing again was difficult. It’d been so long since the simple act of holding a pen was an everyday, monotonous task instead of a luxury. You felt a calmness settle in your bones, realizing that just a month or so ago, you were on the road, foraging for berries and wondering which day would be your last. For once, the world of the dead felt completely removed from you, behind that sturdy fence. Maybe you’d never have to see blood again, you wondered, but of course, that was a little too optimistic.

Just then, in the middle of your musing, a dull pain seared in your abdomen. “Oh, God,” you mumbled, reaching down to rub your hand over your stomach. More uncomfortable strains developed there, and soon your back and thighs began to ache as well.

Your first fear was sickness, something akin to the flu. There was a bad cold that had gone around your group during the winter, but you had had that, and this was different. Then, there was the brief drop of your heart in your chest when you considered the fact that you could be pregnant. Granted, you and Daryl had been quite careful, always using some sort of protection or intervention to keep you from meeting the same fate as Lori.

Still, it was always a possibility, one that terrified you. Perhaps you wanted a baby with Daryl. He was sweet with little Judith, and someday, maybe when the prison would be safer, you’d like to consider the possibility with him, but not now. Certainly not now.

Your fears worsened when you noticed a tenderness in your breasts that night, and when the pain in your abdomen got worse, you gently cried into your pillow, sure to do so before Daryl came to bed. But then, you realized what it really must’ve been, though the phenomenon had, mercifully, avoided you for so long: period.

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself. “That’s what it is.”

When you reached down to allow your fingers to graze underneath the front of your underwear, dark streaks of brownish crimson coated your fingertips. There was a sense of relief to this revelation. For one thing, you weren’t pregnant. That in itself was a cause to celebrate. Not only that, but finally, your body was healthy enough to start menstruating again. A year of constant near-starvation and malnutrition was what kept away the crimson tide for so long. Now, you were finally eating enough to kickstart the cycle again, but then again, the whole ordeal was, for lack of a better word, a major pain in the ass.

You rose from your bed quickly, lifting your nightshirt to examine your underwear—stained. You grabbed the nearest pair of pants, Daryl’s, to put on, and fast walked to Maggie’s cell in the hopes that she’d have something to help you, though you were already incredibly close to Maggie, and you knew she hadn’t had her period in almost a year either.

“Maggie,” you whispered from beyond the curtain of her cell, hoping you wouldn’t interrupt any intimate moments between her and Glenn. “Maggie,” you whispered again, with more insistence and frustration. “I need your help.”

A shirtless and half awake Glenn pulled back the curtain. He rubbed his eyes as he tried to find your face. “(Y/N)?” he asked. “You okay?”

You peered over his shoulder, trying to find your other friend in the darkness behind him. “I’m, uh… Where’s Maggie?”

Her face was soon illuminated by the light of the lantern she’d just lit. She sat up in bed, eying you with concern, and pulling a confused face at the baggy, holey jeans you were wearing. “Hey,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I just…” You looked between Glenn and Maggie. “I’m really sorry for waking you, but… Maggie, do you have any…” You mouthed the word tampons, in the hopes she’d be able to read your lips.

You knew that periods were nothing to be embarrassed about, as they were a natural part of life and a simple fact of owning a uterus, but you also knew men could be very squeamish about the whole ordeal. It was silly, since Glenn was like your brother, but force of habit told you to always expect men to be unforgiving and immature in regards to a woman’s period.

“Oh,” replied Maggie. “Um, I don’t… Haven’t started mine again yet.”

You nodded solemnly. “D-do you think anyone else might have them?” The longer you stood there, the more you feared you’d bleed through Daryl’s jeans. Not that they hadn’t been covered in blood before, but these ones were freshly laundered.

“Maybe some of the Woodbury folks?” she said.

In the darkness of the prison, you went on a brief mission to interview the few Woodbury women you had met, all of whom were either no longer having periods or hadn’t had the time to pack their pads and tampons before making the move to the prison. You were out of luck, and there was definitely no way of finding any female sanitation products in a former men’s correctional facility. No, it was clear—a run needed to be made.

In the meantime, you’d scurried off to the bathroom to create a makeshift pad out of toilet paper, layering several pieces of the one ply sheets along the crotch of your underwear, which had already become soaked through with menstrual blood, and the inside of Daryl’s jeans hadn’t been spared. “Shit!” you said to yourself. You felt like a twelve year old again, experiencing your very first period at school and leaking through your favorite beige corduroy pants. You remembered a few of the older boys making fun of you, calling you “Carrie” and making jokes about staying as far away from you as possible. You tried to laugh along, but it hurt.

With your lover’s jeans around pooled around your ankles and your underwear halfway up your thighs, you leaned against the open bathroom stall as you tried with all your might to will away the horrific cramps that had come back with a vengeance.

Your brief period of contemplation was interrupted by a heavy push of the door as some unseen person entered the room. Your eyes darted open as you quickly latched the stall shut, intending to preserve your dignity.

You couldn’t see the person’s shoes, but when you heard the sound of pants unzipping, then the loud stream of urine hitting the porcelain of the urinal, you knew it was a man.

And when he let out a short, familiar grunt, you knew it was your man, making his usual stop in the bathroom before he would head to your cell for the night.

You sighed and felt a bit of relief—at least it wasn’t just some guy, and you were in need of a bit of comfort.

“Daryl,” you peeped quietly, still locked in the stall.

He lifted his gaze from the urinal, and he wondered at first if maybe he was so tired that he was imagining your voice, but when he turned to see your fuzzy pink slippers in the stall, he knew you were really there.

“(Y/N)?” he asked, a slight chuckle to his gruff, tired voice. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Nothing,” you answered, still holding your head against the stall door. “I don’t feel good.”

He tilted his head and sighed, getting slightly worried now. “What’s wrong?” You were silent for a moment, until you doubled over in pain, holding your belly as another cramp hit.

“Ah,” you hissed.

He came closer to the stall, zipping up his pants. “Why don’t ya come out,” he said. “You got me worried now.”

Unlatching the lock, you pulled back the stall door slowly to reveal your uncomfortable state. Bloated, bleeding, and about ready to pass out from the pain.

In your emotional turmoil, you stepped forward to fall into his arms, squeezing him tight and breathing a big sigh into his neck. He didn’t hesitate to hold you, rubbing your back up and down. The warmth of his abdomen touching yours soothed your pain for a moment, but the cramps were too strong. You’d suspect it would only get worse, since usually the second day of your period was the worst.

“I started my period,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “My cramps are so bad… I—I don’t even have any pads or anything. I feel awful.”

He turned to face you, a little confused. He had just assumed you’d been having periods since he’d known you. He didn’t know when, or how you dealt with them, but he just assumed you did. After all, he didn’t know much about periods—he grew up with one brother and a dad who didn’t care enough about women to tell Daryl anything about them. His mother died when he was five years old. You were, in general, the first woman he’d ever known so well. Sure, he’d had meaningless drunken trysts with random women before, but he hardly remembered any of that, and besides, he only knew those women for approximately one night. Not enough time to figure out their menstrual cycles.

“You ain’t been havin’ ‘em?” he asked.

You furrowed your brow and scoffed, irritated by the assumption. “No, Daryl. Don’t you know anything about periods?”

He should’ve, he knew that, but he didn’t. He hadn’t had the time to figure that out, not with everything else he’d been doing. Still, he knew that, as a man who loved a woman, he should know everything about her, including her cycle.

“I’m an idiot,” he said bluntly. “Sorry, I—I don’t know nothin’.”

You sighed and rubbed your head, trying to not lose your patience. The pain of the relentless cramps was really getting to you, and the uncomfortable pooling of blood on the flimsy makeshift pad made you even more irritable. You could feel the blood flowing out of you.

“You’re not an idiot,” you said. “I’m sorry, I…” You searched his face to see if he really didn’t know anything about periods. He didn’t, you could tell. Daryl was not an idiot, like you said, but there were things he didn’t know. He could learn easily, picking things up very quickly, but education had failed him in many ways. Growing up in the rural south in the 1970s and 1980s didn’t help much—biology wasn’t top priority, especially not women’s biology.

“When… women are malnourished,” you said, “our bodies go into, like, survival mode. That affects our cycle, and we sometimes don’t have periods because our bodies are working hard to do other things, so it gets put on the back burner until we’re getting more nutrition again… Does that make sense?”

You were a librarian, not a doctor, so you didn’t have an expert-level grasp on the whole thing, but you knew that was why you hadn’t had your period in so long.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “I think so… Why’re you wearin’ my pants, though?”

You laughed as you followed his gaze to his ripped jeans hanging on your body. “Oh… They were the closest pants I could find. Sorry, I think I might’ve, um… There might be a little blood on them. I’m really sorry, honey. I’ll clean them.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay, there’s blood on all my clothes.”

“It doesn’t gross you out?”

“Does it look like anythin’ grosses me out?” he asked. “‘Sides, nothin’ about you is gross. Not even your—”

He stopped himself before he said the first thing that came to mind: pussy blood.

“I just wanna take care of you,” he continued, cupping your cheek with his hand. “What do ya need, angel? I’ll do anythin’ for ya.”

Daryl was every woman’s dream man, that was for sure.

“Well, um… Would you mind maybe going on a run tomorrow? I mean, you don’t have to, but if you could get some pads or tampons, that’d really help me a lot. I’m kind of just free-bleeding right now.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. First thing in the mornin’.”

You shook your head in disbelief. Maybe you were so used to having low expectations for men, but Daryl was a totally different caliber of man—he was a knight in shining armor, at least to you.

“Really?” you asked. “Are you sure? Is it too much trouble?”

He scoffed and kissed your forehead. “What kinda man would I be if I didn’t get my woman what she needs? ‘Sides, it’s the least I can do.”

You smiled and kissed his cheek, then wrapped your arms tight around his neck. “Thank you,” you said. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He tried his best that night to make you comfortable, laying down a towel in case you bled through his pants (which he let you keep on) to preserve your sheets. Your cramps were relentless, but soon you fell asleep, and in the morning, Daryl moved carefully so as not to wake you.

He did, however, gently kiss your forehead, which stirred you from your sleep. “Mm… Daryl?”

“Shhh,” he said, holding his finger to his lip. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back ‘fore noon. Promise.”

You awoke with a neediness that you were sure would soon morph into irritability, but all you could think about was him holding you a little longer.

“Okay,” you sighed, reaching out to hold his hand. “Thanks, again. You’re so good to me.”

He smiled and kissed your lips, innocently, but still passionately enough to elicit a heavenly sigh from you. “Just doin’ my job. I love you.”

“Love you, and be careful. Don’t get yourself hurt because of me and my uterus.”

He adjusted the pack on his back before lifting his crossbow with a grunt. “That’d be the best reason to get hurt,” he said, turning to peel back the curtain of the prison cell. Before he left, he turned once more, asking a rather important question. “What kind do I get?”

You furrowed your brow. “What kind?”

“Yeah, what kinda tampons? Or pads or whatever.” In truth, his grasp of the difference between the two was shaky at best.

“Oh, um… Super is fine.”

“For both?”

“Yes. Super absorbent.”

He nodded, trying to input that information in his brain. “Does the, uh, brand matter?”

“No, Daryl,” you laughed. “Whatever you can find. And if you can, bring a lot back, for Maggie and everyone else. As many as you can find.”

Thus, the mission was afoot.

He began tuning up his bike at dawn, making sure it was ready to go. He’d almost finished with his maintenance when he heard footsteps and a familiar presence coming towards him. He raised his head from his work to meet Glenn’s gaze. He was wearing his pack and his gear, all the things he took with him for runs.

“Hey,” the younger man said, raising his hand to wave at Daryl. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” replied Daryl, wiping his hands of the grease that had accumulated there. “Boutta head out. Quick run.”

Glenn’s eyes narrowed curiously. “Hey, me too. What are you getting?”

Daryl huffed. Glenn always liked to talk a lot more than he did. He liked the guy, though. He had to admit, when he first met Glenn, he thought you and he were together, and though Daryl didn’t outrightly know it, he was quite irrationally jealous for a short period of time. Now he was family.

“Woman stuff,” he said. “Tampons, pads… For (Y/N).”

“Ohhh,” replied Glenn. “That makes sense. She asked Maggie for some last night. Well, hey, I was gonna go out looking for some, too. I figured if (Y/N)’s starting hers then Maggie won’t be far behind. They… sync up.”

“Sync up?”

“Yeah. Anyway, we should combine forces.”

Daryl scoffed as he stuffed his red rag in his back pocket. “It’s an easy run. Don’t need more manpower.”

“Come on, think about it. Always good to have someone watching your back, and you’re not a strategist. You’re the muscle. Every mission needs brains and brawn… I mean, you have both but…” Glenn trailed off, fearing he’d make a fool of himself. “Anyway, let me help. Besides, I can't let you get all the glory.”

Daryl held up his hands, as if in slightly amused defeat. “Fine. You take the truck, I'll take the bike.”

“Cool.”

Just then, another, much bigger, figure emerged, coming towards Glenn and Daryl. “Hey, Tyreese,” said Glenn to the man. “What are you doing up this early?”

Daryl took note of Tyreese’s appearance—he, too, was dressed for a mission.

“Oh, uh, Karen needs some stuff,” he said. “She says her time of the month’s coming soon… Where are you guys going?”

Daryl’s eyes trained on Glenn, knowing what he was going to say. “No way,” he said. “Already two of us.”

Besides, neither of them knew Tyreese well. He’d just arrived from Woodbury, and though so far he seemed trustworthy, Daryl was a hard nut to crack when it came to being friendly towards “outsiders.”

“Think about it,” Glenn repeated. “I’m the brains, you’re the muscle, and Tyreese, you’re the…” He trailed off, trying to figure out a role for Tyreese within the group. “You’re the…”

“Wild card,” said Tyreese, a friendly smile cracking on his face.

“Yeah, sure. Wild card.” He turned back to Daryl. “So what do you think?”

“Think we’re burnin’ daylight,” he said. “Come on, let’s get back ‘fore noon. Ain’t got all day to sit and chat.”

Despite Daryl’s insistence that his original plan to raid the nearest Piggly Wiggly would suffice, Glenn drew up a new plan, which involved extensive coverage of several supermarkets, pharmacies, and gas stations within the surrounding area. This would account for a lack of pads or tampons at any one location, and would likely yield the highest bounty.

With Daryl leading the way on his bike, and Glenn and Tyreese following in the truck, the three men embarked on their mission, first going to the furthest destination, then planning on working their way back.

First stop was the pharmacy, in some little town on the outskirts of the county in which the prison was located.

It was a family-owned joint, with a pretty good padlock on the door and no signs of breaking in—that was good.

Glenn knocked on the glass door, then they waited for a minute or two, hoping any walkers inside would be attracted to the sound. “Nothing,” he said.

“All right.” Daryl opened the bolt cutters, ready to clip the chain. “Ready?”

Tyreese held his hammer high, and Glenn readied his knife. “Ready,” they both replied.

He snapped the chain and let it fall to the asphalt, then after one last moment to wait for any walkers to show themselves, they headed in.

Tyreese nailed two walkers who’d been holed up in the janitor’s closet, and Glenn made a beeline to the feminine hygiene section, with Daryl following close behind.

“Nice,” said Daryl, nodding as he chewed the inside of his lip. He found himself in a cluttered aisle with the two other men, standing dumbfounded as they examined the myriad of options presented before them.

No one spoke for a while, perhaps because they were each thinking of which products to get, or because they were too embarrassed to be the first one to say, “I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

Finally, Tyreese spoke: “Ultra thin, maxi, super maxi, with wings, without wings, panty liners, overnight, regular, heavy flow… Damn.”

“And those are just the pads,” said Glenn. He gestured to the left, where the tampons were. “We got those too.”

Daryl chewed his lip, shining his flashlight back and forth over every feminine hygiene product on the shelf. He’d always been told women were complicated, though he hadn’t found that to be the case. They weren’t any more complicated than men, but maybe the only complicated thing about them was just how many goddamn options they had for tampons.

“We should get a little bit of everything,” said Daryl. “Maybe even take it all…” He re-examined the shelves, noticing a lot of empty space—it looked like the place had been looted before the chains were put on the door. “We’re gonna need to stop again.” He pulled a box of tampons off the shelf, and proceeded to open it to dump its content into his pack. “Don’t need the boxes,” he said. “Takes up room. Dump ‘em.”

They did the same with the pads, and soon their packs were each halfway full of an assortment of pads and tampons.

There were three more stops, each yielding a sizable amount of pads and tampons, so much so that Daryl had to find some crates to fill up, once their packs became too overfilled.

Finally, the last stop was a small grocery store not too far from the prison. The closer they got to home, the more Daryl felt relief. He’d been worrying a little too much about you, slightly irrationally afraid that you’d bleed to death, even though he knew such a thing was impossible. He didn’t really like the idea of you bleeding at all though, so he simply couldn’t help but worry.

The last location proved particularly bountiful, with plenty of feminine hygiene products to choose from. Of course, they chose all of them, scooping the packages into their arms and dumping them into the crates, then taking them back out to stuff them in the remaining empty space of the bed of the truck.

Daryl dusted off his hands when he loaded the last of the crates into the truck. He felt accomplished, and quite satisfied with the mission. He wouldn’t have been able to bring back this much if it hadn’t been for Glenn and Tyreese, so he’d have to thank them later, when they got back home. Daryl had a self-enforced policy: never say thank you until it’s done, and they weren’t done yet—they still had to get back home.

“Hey, Daryl,” said Tyreese, helping to strap down the crates to secure them. “You think we’re gonna be heroes when we get back with all these things?”

Daryl scoffed as he jumped out of the bed, then turned to close the tailgate. “Think my woman needs somethin’, I get it for ‘er. Don’t gotta be a hero to do that.”

Tyreese exchanged a smirk with Glenn, and Daryl felt their interaction behind his back, until they broke out into mutual laughter, amused at the usually stoic man’s undying loyalty to you. “What’s so damn funny?” he asked.

“Nothing. Well, I think we’re heroes,” said Glenn. “Got our ladies their tampons.”

“And back before lunch,” added Tyreese.

“Yeah, well—” Daryl’s voice was interrupted by a snarl, as a small herd of walkers came lumbering forward, their rotting heads popping up from beyond the nearby hill seemingly out of nowhere. “Shit.”

Daryl hurriedly strapped on his crossbow as he spoke. “Let’s get outta here,” he said. “We’ll lose ‘em ‘fore we get back.”

“Right,” agreed Glenn. “Come on.”

Daryl hopped on his bike, starting it up and waiting for Glenn and Tyreese to start up the truck. He nervously tapped the handle of his bike, watching the dozen or so walkers stumble closer.

He heard the engine sputtering, struggling to come to life. “Come on!” he shouted back.

Glenn poked his head out the open window of the driver’s side. “It’s not starting!”

Daryl turned back to face the walkers, now within just a few yards. “Shit!” He removed the key from the ignition and hopped off the bike, grabbing his knife and quickly taking out a few walkers.

Soon, Tyreese was running out the passenger side door of the truck, hammer held high as he came to Daryl’s aid. “Shit, they came out of nowhere!”

“I know!” replied Daryl. “Glenn!”

“Working on it!” He was fiddling with some wires under the hood of the truck, frantically looking up every few seconds to make sure he was clear.

“Work faster!” Tyreese added. More walkers started to follow, and soon Daryl and Tyreese were surrounded, with Daryl’s bike close by.

With their backs pressed to each other, Daryl kicked a few walkers away to clear his path to his bike. “Come on,” he said. “Get on the bike.”

He wasn’t entirely sure how Tyreese would fit on the back of his bike (he’d only ever had you, Maggie, and Carol on the back, and Tyreese was quite a bit bigger than all of you), but it was the safest way to get out of the crowd.

The bike roared to life, and Tyreese nailed a few walkers in the head with his hammer as he climbed onto the bike. “Go!”

Daryl punched the gas pedal and zipped through the crowd, while Tyreese killed any walkers that got too close for comfort.

Luckily, the walkers hadn’t yet got to Glenn, who was still trying to get the truck to work when Daryl and Tyreese got to him. Hopping off the back of the bike, Tyreese looked back to see the small herd stumbling around a cage of propane tanks about a quarter of a mile away.

Tyreese looked between Glenn’s nimble, but struggling, fingers and the incoming herd. He quickly retreated to the passenger side door to locate the rifle they’d brought along, just in case. This was a “just in case” situation, he figured.

While Daryl shot his bow to take down the nearest walkers, Tyreese had another plan.

With most of the herd still lumbering around the tanks, he held up the rifle and aimed. Perhaps it was a long shot, but when a rather loud, slightly earth-shaking explosion nearly knocked all three men to the ground, it seemed to have worked.

“Holy shit!” yelped Glenn. Daryl only gaped in breathless confusion, having not even noticed the other man had grabbed the gun.

Only a few unburnt stragglers remained, with the rest of the herd now charred to a crisp and too weak to lift themselves from the flames of the burning wreckage.

“Damn,” said Daryl, holding his hand to his forehead as he blocked the sunlight from his view. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“Wild card,” replied Tyreese.

It was almost noon now, and you hadn’t bothered to get out of bed, except to replace your stained through underwear every once in a while, until you were down to your last clean pair.

The nice thing about the security of the prison, along with the basic necessities of having a roof over your head and walls to keep out the dead, was that you could sleep in much more than you could on the road. You supposed that if there was any time you could get your period, you were glad it was now.

Still, you worried when your watch struck twelve and Daryl still hadn’t returned. You made a promise to yourself to wait at least another half an hour before getting up to go looking for him. Your cramps only worsened in the meantime, and when he finally did pull back the curtain to your cell, he found you curled up in a fetal position, trying to find the most comfort possible in your terribly uncomfortable state.

“(Y/N)?”

Your head had been tucked under the covers, where you hoped to block out all sensory exposure for a moment. “Daryl?” you croaked. “Oh, I was starting to worry.”

You sat up with a hiss as another cramp surged through you. “God,” you huffed. “Worst cramps I’ve ever had… Did you happen to find any pads or tampons?”

He smiled a little, then you noticed what he was holding. He proudly held out an overflowing crate of all different types of pads and tampons, one that he’d made sure to reserve just for you when him and the others were unloading. Of course, it had your tea in it, too.

“Oh, wow!” you laughed. “That’s amazing! You didn’t have to get that much for me.”

He shrugged as he set down the crate by the bed, then sat himself on the edge to place his comforting hand on your thigh. “There’s plenty more where that came from. Glenn and the new guy, Tyreese, they helped, too. Was no sweat.”

You tilted your head with a glimmer in your eyes, the kind of sparkle only a particularly bewitching person could elicit. “You’re my hero.” He laughed in surprise when you flung your arms around his neck and brought him in for a tight hug. It felt so good to have him back, even if he was just gone for a few hours. It meant the world to have him by your side, comforting you, even if he didn’t know a thing about what you were experiencing. At least he was there.

“Ain’t no hero,” he said softly over your shoulder. Though he had to admit, it was quite nice to know you thought of him like that. “Told ya, I’d do anything for you. This is just a little thing… If you asked me to bring ya back the Holy Grail, I’d do it.”

You laughed and shook your head to face him, with your hands cupping his infectiously rising cheeks. His crooked, boyish smile changed the shape of his face so handsomely. His high, elf-like cheekbones fit perfectly in your palms, like they were made for you.

“The Holy Grail isn’t real,” you said.

“I’d make it real for you,” he said. “‘Sides… you’re my Holy Grail.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at the predictable line. He was always saying stuff like that to you, even if he wouldn’t be caught dead doing it for anyone else.

“Okay, Casanova,” you laughed. “Hand me one of those tampons. My favorite pink panties are getting ruined.”

He huffed and turned to sort through the crate. “Love it when you talk dirty to me,” he said.

So Daryl felt accomplished, having risked life and limb for his true love, doing his part to make her just a little more comfortable. Maybe he didn’t see himself as a hero, but you’d dealt with men who could care less about such things, and be downright heartless when it came to the monthly plight of the woman. To you, he was so much better, and he’d proven that, not for the first time, and most certainly not for the last.

~

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[bluelangel]

writing another daryl fic cause i love him

[bluelangel]

Go Get Him | Part 2

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 10 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—oral (female receiving), teasing, edging, premature ejaculation (lol), sub!Daryl (ish), idk straight people sex what else do I say, swearing ❧ Word Count: 8.1k

❧ Summary: Daryl hasn't made love to you since your first time together. It's hard to imagine that he doesn't love you, but you fear perhaps you scared him away with your forwardness. That theory is disproven when he arrives at your door, like a lost, lovesick puppy.

❧ A/N: Second part to Go Get Him! Sorry this took so long, I have been busy moving and also doing grad school and trying to find a job and also just generally dealing with my family which is lowkey a pain in the ass but yeah here's the sequel, which is basically just... I mean basically this whole thing is sex. If you enjoy Daryl being a pathetic horny simp then this is for you. Also I was going to actually have them bake a peach pie and then have them like play with the food lmao but that was too much work because I would've had to look up how to make a peach pie and bestie I just wasn't gonna do that. There are still remnants of that tho with the peach thing so there's that.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were a little too in love with him. Well, you always knew you loved him, but in love? Deep, sickeningly potent, noxiously passionate, nearly burdensome, love. Even now, grinning rather foolishly at the bracelet he’d made for you from multicolored twine, you felt your heart flutter in your chest, like the movement of the vibrant ruby-throated hummingbird making its daily rounds at the nectar feeder outside your living room window.

Since that day you told him how you felt, and gotten to know each other much more intimately on the sofa you sat upon now, you hadn’t stopped thinking about him once. It was a week ago now, but it had felt like an eternity—an eternity of wondering what he was up to, holding his hand any chance you could get, asking him if he wanted to come over… And he hadn’t, not since then. 

You hadn’t had a private moment with him since that day, and you began to worry now. Maybe it didn’t mean as much to him as you thought it did, but he had said he loved you, and you knew that couldn’t be just a casual statement for Daryl. He was more intentional than that, more careful with his words, which he used rather sparingly. You knew him well enough to know that his word was strong, just like him. He never said anything unless it had meaning. 

And he was busy. He was always so damn busy. It was a miracle you had a chance to get him alone in the first place. Still, he hadn’t shied away from you, not like he often did before. The change in your relationship seemed to be forming gradually, despite the abruptness of last week’s midday tryst. You liked it that way, though. You might’ve known Daryl for seven years, but you hadn’t known him this intimately before, so it made sense to take things a little slow after that initial rendezvous, but you had to admit, you thought about it a little too much.

It was hard not to. After all, he might not have been your first sexual experience, far from it, but he was by far the best, not necessarily because of his technique, but because of the feelings that had been growing deep inside of you for so long. He was shy and innocent, and yet somehow sloppy and wild, in his lovemaking, and you liked it. With time, you were sure he’d learn exactly how to please you, and you were sure you’d figure out his needs and desires, too, but that couldn’t be done if Daryl didn’t at least try to find time to make love to you. 

All he’d done was peck your lips gently and quickly, hoping no one else would see, and hold your hand with loosely curled fingers, so he could quickly jerk it away if anyone saw. Still, he looked at you in a new way, you could see it in his eyes. They were more relaxed, hazy, almost as if he’d just been lulled into a dream. You didn’t know it, of course, but you were in that dream, and he thought about that day perhaps even more than you did. It consumed him, every waking moment spent wanting to get your hands on him again, wanting to taste even the smallest morsel of the sweetness between your legs, wanting to bury himself in the deepest part of you until your shaking body squeezed around him, drawing him closer and closer to the greatest pleasure he’d ever felt. 

And yet he still was afraid to make the wrong move, to touch you when you didn’t want to be touched or to even hurt you if he moved too wildly, as he was prone to do. As much as he wanted to admit otherwise, he was waiting on your beck and call, not being too forward until he knew what to do, and he still knew very little. 

It seemed you were at an intimate impasse, a sexual stalemate. You were waiting for Daryl to make the next move, and yet he was too afraid of making the wrong move. Perhaps you’d have to light a fire under his ass—let him know that you belonged to him now, and that he could have you any time, any day. At this rate, you weren’t sure you could go much longer without him knowing that.

Rosita’s weight plopping down beside you stirred you from your thoughts, tearing your eyes from the simple bracelet he’d given you the other day as you prepared to focus on something other than Daryl. 

“When did you come in?” you asked, though you knew you were close enough to Rosita to figure she’d let herself in without knocking. 

She leaned her elbow on the back of the couch to prop up her tilted head, then let out a huff of air as her other hand rubbed her forehead in exhaustion. “Baby’s got me running on three hours of sleep,” she said. “Left her with Eugene… Needed words of encouragement.”

You smiled in bittersweet understanding, patting her knee as you straightened up to look at her. “You’re doing great,” you said. “Best mom I know. Coco’s a lucky little baby.”

“She’s restless too,” she added. “Don’t ever have a baby if you value your sleep schedule, that’s all I’m saying.”

You scoffed and shook your head with a smile of amusement. “Mm, as if that could even happen.”

Rosita raised an eyebrow as her head perked up from the cradle of her hand. “What about that afternoon delight last week?” You felt her finger teasingly poke your side. “You’re sexually active now.”

“Yeah, well I’m starting to wonder if he really meant what he said.”

Her smile wilted. “What, when he said ‘I love you’? He must’ve meant it, (Y/N). I mean, he made you that bracelet.”

You shrugged as you fiddled with the colorful twine on your opposite wrist. “That doesn’t mean he loves me. If he really loved me he’d spend more alone time with me. I don’t know, maybe I’m too needy. Maybe he needs space…” You looked seriously at Rosita, with slight panic in your eyes. “Do you think I was too forward? Do you think I scared him off? I mean, maybe I was too… dominant. I don’t know, I just…”

She shook her head and sighed. “You did nothing wrong. Besides, he hasn’t been completely avoiding you. He’s just busy, (Y/N). You happened to pick one of the most important guys in Alexandria, so of course he’s going to have a lot of stuff to do… besides you.”

“I know, I know… But what if he didn’t like the sex? Maybe it was too much. What if I overwhelmed him?”

You had spared Rosita the gory details of the sex, but she knew the jist of it, how you had been the more dominant one, and how Daryl was… inexperienced. You also spared Daryl the embarrassment of telling anyone he was a virgin, since he seemed quite ashamed of that fact himself.

“You’re overthinking,” replied Rosita. “He’s probably just being Daryl.”

Being Daryl, you thought. Shy, quiet, aloof, insecure… 

“He’ll come around,” she continued. “Let him come to you. Make him show you how much he wants you.”

That appealed to you, the idea of Daryl practically crawling on his knees in desperation for you and your body, upon which you did feel his eyes roaming on more than one occasion since last week. 

So you waited a while, a few more days, until Daryl would show up at your door on his own volition. You still found time to tease him like you’d always done, bending over in his direction with a particularly low-cut blouse on, or making prolonged eye contact as you trailed your fingers down his arm. If you hadn't been in public, he might’ve done something. 

He might’ve lost all control and lowered to his knees until his face met the junction of your thighs, where an intoxicating warmth was heating his cheeks and drawing him closer to the proverbial pot of dripping golden honey beneath your dress. 

He might’ve buried himself between those thighs, allowing all of his senses to be completely engulfed by that center of gravity he’d encountered once before. He could practically feel your fingers lacing firmly through his hair, pulling him closer despite no space existing between his mouth and the fabric draped over your body.

In desperation, he might’ve lapped at nothing, instead tasting that fabric and wettening it with his saliva as he silently begged to lift your dress, himself still a little shy to do such a thing. The longer he waited for your permission, which you purposefully held back, the more fervent he became, nearly sending you stumbling backwards as his nose and mouth buried themselves further between your clothed thighs. 

That was all in his head, though, as he lacked the courage to do it. 

Until one day, in the late afternoon of a particularly warm spring day, he worked up the courage to climb those steps up to your front door, planning on letting you know that he hadn’t stopped thinking about that day last week, that it consumed every inch of his body and soul. That, and in his hands was a basket of freshly picked peaches. He knew you usually picked them yourself, but he figured the least he could do was do the labor for you. 

Surely he could find the courage to kiss you as soon as you opened that door, to be spontaneous and passionate just like you, but when the door did open, he froze, finding himself almost as clueless as he was before. 

“Hi, Daryl,” spoke Rosita, holding baby Coco on her hip. All his confidence began to wither away, his plans foiled and his words stuck in his throat. “I was just heading out. I’ll get (Y/N). Come on in.”

She and the cooing baby led him to the kitchen, where he awkwardly sat at the counter as Rosita climbed up the stairs to find you folding your laundry on the surface of your bed. “Who is it?” you asked. 

Rosita’s lips quirked in a crooked, slightly devilish smile. “Your gentleman caller.” 

You dropped the sock you had been turning inside out. “Daryl?” you gasped in surprise. “He’s here?”

“I told you he’d be back,” she said in a sing-song voice, bouncing Coco with the rhythm of her words. “I’ll leave you two alone. I’ve gotta put this one to bed anyway.”

Your eyes darted around for a moment, a million thoughts running through your head as your heart began to race at the idea of spending time alone with Daryl again. A part of you might’ve been slightly annoyed that he’d been avoiding that alone time with you, but maybe he’d just have to prove how sorry he was to you.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hm?”

“Jesus, you’re already dicknotized.” 

With a quick kiss to Coco’s forehead, you sent Rosita back downstairs before you, and as she passed Daryl on her way to the door, she swore she saw a condom poking out of his back pocket, but maybe it was just her imagination. 

Soon, you were practically skipping down the stairs, though you made a point to calm yourself before Daryl saw you, in the hopes that you’d appear much more seductive, though it didn’t take much effort, since Daryl was immediately seduced, as he always was.

“Hi, handyman,” you said, voice more husky and lower than usual.

He cleared his throat and quickly stood to his feet, despite not being entirely sure why he did so. Perhaps to give you a standing ovation of sorts, to recognize how perfect you were to him. Surely any unworthy mortal such as himself would need to pay his respect and admiration to a goddess like you.

He must’ve stood too fast, as the headrush that surged through him was enough to send him stepping backwards to catch himself. You’d only ever seen him this nervous last week, which surely must’ve been a good sign.

You couldn’t help but smile at his shakiness, and in an attempt to rid himself of embarrassment, he uttered a halfhearted chuckle under his breath, rubbing his clammy hands up and down his jeans as he stepped forward. 

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat immediately after. “I, uh… hope I ain’t interruptin’ anything.”

You stepped closer, too, until you were only a foot or so away. Close enough for him to smell that intoxicating perfume, and to feel the heat of your body radiating off his skin. 

His eyes roamed unavoidably to your lips, the natural gloss catching the light of the dining room chandelier. As if you knew he was focused on them, you parted your lips to breathe a husky sigh, as your half-lidded eyes wandered to the small patch of chest hairs blooming at the collar of his shirt.

“No, no. You could never interrupt anything. I always have time for you.” You ventured to step closer, taking one hand in yours to raise it to your mouth, eyes glued to his as your lips just grazed the back of his hand. Anything more than that was too much now—if he wanted you, he’d have to either take you himself, or beg for you. “Do you need something, baby?”

He swallowed hard, trying to lubricate his dry throat enough to produce some kind of words that wouldn’t be too gravelly to understand. In the tone of your voice, and in the way you brushed your lips back and forth on his hand, you were sure you were being obvious, but when he spoke, you knew you’d have to try even harder. 

“Just wanted to see you,” he said. “Wanted to, uh… I missed you.”

You tilted your head and smiled sweetly. As much as you wanted him, you had to admit that just his innocent sweetness was a gift in and of itself. “I missed you, too. It feels like we haven’t been alone since…” You trailed off with a laugh. “Well, you know.”

He licked his lips and averted his gaze to his feet, in slight shame of his inability to make more time for you. “M’sorry,” he said. “Just been busy, s’all. Plus I… ain’t really used to this whole thing.”

“What whole thing?”

“Ya know… Havin’ my own woman.”

You laughed at his turn of phrase. “You mean, you’re not used to being in a relationship?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled as he chewed his lip. “That’s what it is, right?”

“Of course,” you replied. “I mean, if that’s what you want it to be. I know it’s what I want it to be.” You stepped closer again, raising your hand to brush his hair back from his eyes. “Your eyes are so pretty.”

He scoffed, and as your hand trailed down his cheek to his jaw, you swore you felt him begin to relax. He must’ve been getting more used to your touch. 

“They’re just blue,” he said. “Nothin’ special.”

“They’re a beautiful shade of blue. You should have more confidence in yourself, Daryl. Especially with me. You know I’m yours.”

He cleared his throat and hoped the blush upon his cheeks wasn’t terribly noticeable. “I know. Just… kinda hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it.” You leaned forward to nuzzle your nose against his, tickling him slightly as he let out a quiet, nervous chuckle. “And you’re mine, right?”

He cleared his throat and nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’m yours… Buttercup.”

He cringed internally, not knowing exactly where that sudden burst of confidence came from, but it was quickly matched by your own as your lips slotted firmly between his, your hands clasping tight around the back of his neck. “Daryl,” you sighed against his lips. “You taste so good, baby.”

Your lips moved languidly to his cheek, each kiss more tongue-heavy than the last. 

His hands grasped firmly at your lower back, pulling you closer despite his fear of getting too carried away in his desperation. Even so, he felt a burning in the pit of his stomach, an unavoidable hunger rising up to his throat as his tongue tickled your cheek.

“Mmm,” you laughed, burrowing your nose into his soft, silky hair. His lips migrated to your neck, suckling on the skin as your hand guided his to your bottom, where he squeezed on his own volition. “You’re the only man who can touch me like that.”

As your eyes opened in a blurry haze, your eyes were attracted to the basket of bright, crisp peaches on the kitchen counter. “Daryl!”

He panicked as his hands loosened their grip and he pulled back to meet your wide eyes. “What’s wrong? I do somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” you laughed. “You brought me peaches?”

He turned to follow your gaze, fixated on the delicious fruit. “Oh, uh… Yeah, I know how much you love to make that peach pie.” He stepped back, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck with a sweaty palm. He hoped he hadn’t overstepped a boundary, as if offering you a basket of peaches was anymore intimate than what he’d already done. “Thought I’d pick you some. Got the best ones off the tree.”

Your wide grin chased away any worries he might’ve had. “You’re too sweet. Thank you.” 

You leaned forward to take a peach in your hand, inspecting it as you bit your lip in admiration of the succulent fruit, its round curves and soft, fuzzy coat so strangely enchanting. 

And then an idea came to you. 

“Wanna try one?” you asked. “Make sure they’re nice and ripe?”

Unaware of your intentions, he innocently nodded, his lips upturning into a sweet smile. “Sure.”

Washing the skin of the peach, you eyed him from across the kitchen, your hands purposefully caressing the fruit much more sensually than you usually would. 

From his viewpoint, it was difficult not to eye the low cut collar of your sundress, and with a more intent gaze as you looked away, he spotted your naked breasts beating against the inside of the lightweight fabric as you scrubbed the dirt from the surface of the peach.

Jesus Christ, he thought to himself. Woman’s got no damn bra on.

“You’ve got an eye for peaches,” your voice interrupted his increasingly lusty thoughts. “Is it because you’re from Georgia?” 

When he didn’t answer, you turned to meet his entranced gaze, which was focused on your chest. “Daryl?”

“Uh, yeah. Georgia. Peaches. Real nice peaches.” Fuckin’ Christ.

You gracefully side-stepped around the counter with a bowl now filled with rinsed peaches, as well as a knife to cut them. He tried not to watch too closely, not to pay too much attention to the outline of your curves underneath your dress, but it was hard not to.

“I’ll cut out the pit,” you said, picking up the knife in one hand and a peach in the other. “Keep them for planting more trees.”

With his usual overbearing concern for you, he watched carefully as you began to slice the fruit by its girth, and when the blade of the knife got too close to almost cutting your thumb, he couldn’t stand by and watch any longer.

“Nah, let me,” he said, grabbing the fruit and the knife. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You scoffed with a smile, slightly annoyed by his caring nature, but mostly quite enchanted by it. He was always like that, more so the longer you knew him. If you didn’t need to lift a finger, he wouldn’t let you, and certainly not if that finger posed a risk of getting cut.

“Well, I’ve cut plenty of peaches myself, Daryl.”

“I’m here now,” he said, keeping his eyes glued to the sticky juice beginning to seep around the silver blade penetrating the soft fuzzy surface. “I’ll take care of you.”

If he hadn’t been so absorbed in his work, he might’ve been more bashful about his words, but you certainly weren’t going to let them go unnoticed.

“You’re adorable.”

“Am I?”

“Mhm… Adorable and sweet.”

He popped the pit out of the now halved peach with a huff. “Gotta start gettin’ used to all this flattery.”

“Oh, I’ve been flattering you since the day I met you,” you laughed. “You were just too innocent to notice it.”

He looked up as he handed you your half. “Innocent?” he asked. 

“Well,” you sighed, raising your peach to your lips, “you’re not that innocent.”

“Pfft,” he scoffed with a crooked smile, the kind of smile that proved your point quite well. There was innocence in his eyes, but that smile was almost mischievous, like it knew exactly what you meant all on its own. “Eat your peach.”

You almost took a bite, but when he raised the fuzzy fruit to his lips, you felt a tingle surge through you, a reminder of the feeling of his lips kissing a part of you not too dissimilar from the shape of that fruit, with its delicate flesh and its deep, concave center. To see that tongue of his swirl circles as it gathered the succulent juice from the perfect ripe peach might’ve been just the most beautiful sight. 

“Wait,” you said, scooting forward on your barstool until your knees touched his. “Why don’t you eat that peach like it’s me?”

His eyes narrowed in confusion at the request, and though he wondered what you meant, one look at the cross section of that peach in the palm of his hand was enough to confirm it. 

You leaned forward once again, cradling his hand in yours as you lifted the fruit to his lips. “Like it’s my pussy,” you whispered. “Please?”

The slight beg in your voice awakened something within him, an urge to please you and satiate your needs as best he could. 

His tongue slotted gently into the pit, lapping up the juice as his fingers squeezed the fruit from the outside, creating a sinful sound. “Like this?”

“Mhm.”

Discarding your peach, you reached your hand down between your thighs, touching yourself just above your dress. “Good boy,” you said. “I like when you listen to me. Keep going.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours, not that they could. Your stare was much too intense, and much too seductive, to ignore. In truth, this was torture. He’d been thinking about licking you ever since he’d done it a week before, and one taste was enough to render him addicted for life. It was the idea of pleasing you, of hearing your moans and sighs and whimpers of sexual relief as his tongue massaged your most intimate, sensitive part. He would never want to deny you, or himself, of that pleasure. Now, licking and sucking desperately at the flesh of a peach was almost humiliating, as though you knew exactly what he wanted, and yet you withheld it from him by offering a meager substitute. He supposed he brought this upon himself, though, with his shyness preventing him from being alone with you since last week. Maybe this was part of your plan.

With sticky droplets of peach juice dripping down his chin, he finally sunk his teeth into it, allowing more flavor to surround his wiggling tongue. The movements seemed to match those of your fingers, swirling in tight circles over the sensitive nerves tucked under your dress and panties. 

“It ain’t like the real thing,” he said. “Let me… I wanna…”

Your hand tore away from your body as you leaned forward to catch his lips, still coated in a thick layer of sweet, peachy goodness. “What do you want, sweetheart?” you asked into his mouth. “Big boys use their words.”

He swallowed hard as he watched you take a bite of his peach, deliberately letting your lips sink around the juicy fruit in the most sinful way. “I wanna lick your pussy,” he said, almost ashamed of his words, but he couldn’t help it—if you asked him to speak, he had to speak. The hold you had over him was insurmountable. “I wanna taste you… Ain’t nothin’ even close to the taste of you.”

You smiled against his cheek, where you pressed slow, languid kisses. The half-eaten peach had dropped from Daryl’s hand in distraction, though neither of you noticed. “Oh,” you laughed. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

The frustrating thing about Daryl was that you knew he could overpower you—he was physically very strong and bulky, with lean, muscular arms that could squeeze your abdomen tighter than a corset. All that, and he was still so delicate with you, so weary of hurting you with his strength and passion that even frightened himself the more he became aware of how much he loved you. He’d never seen himself as a sexual person before, but you’d opened up a whole new part of him that he was both excited and fearful to explore. 

When he exerted enough strength to pin you against the counter, lifting you up by your waist as his lips devoured yours, you couldn’t help but moan in pleasure, though he quickly hesitated once again, removing his lips.

“Sorry,” he said, gently rubbing your hips up and down. “Did I hurt you?”

You scoffed, reaching down to strip yourself of your panties. “Get down there,” you said. “Eat me like that peach.”

From his lips erupted a low growl as he hoisted your ankles to his broad shoulders, moving with just a hint of confidence once again as he lowered his head beneath your skirt.

He felt his jeans begin to swell with the pressure from his cock rising, hardening with each quick, desperate lick up and down your slit. His tongue flattened wide, while he groaned in pleasure at the familiar taste he hadn’t been able to get out of his head. He was addicted to it, lapping at your natural juice like it was ice cold water, and he’d been wandering through a desert.

His tongue was only slightly more calculated than last time, focusing more on the little bundle of nerves above your entrance, knowing it was the goldmine. 

When he swirled his tongue just right, causing you to clench your thighs around his head, he groaned again, not in annoyance at the feeling of your legs interlocking, but bliss.

“Aw, fuck,” he groaned, voice muffled against you. 

You sighed and smiled as you threw your head back, pleasure overtaking you. “You like when I squeeze you with my thighs?”

“Yes…”

“Yes what?” you asked more sternly now, letting up on your entrapment of his head. 

He paused for a moment, though his tongue quickly licked at you again in short, frustrated bursts. Still, he missed the feeling of you all around him. “Yes, (Y/N).”

Your hands laced delicately between soft, chocolate colored strands of his lengthy hair. “That’s a good boy,” you cooed, squeezing your thighs tighter than before. With a low whimper, he moved more vigorously on your clit, pursing his lips and licking it as he sucked. “You said you’d take care of me… Take good care of me, Daryl… I want you to take care of me.”

I will, he responded in his head, his mouth much too focused on his task to answer out loud. Take real good care of ya, buttercup. 

His hands wrapped tightly around the outside of your thighs, pulling them even closer around his head until he was sure he could barely hear anything with your thighs covering his ears.

“Oh!” you cried out, his tongue flicking wild strokes up and down your most sensitive area. Each movement made you flinch and writhe and whimper from the sensation of little shockwaves coursing through you, building up gradually and becoming stronger and stronger. 

You would’ve thought from the way he was moaning and whimpering, too, that you were pleasuring him, but just the act of tasting you was enough for his cock to expand his pants as far as they could go, his engorged tip achingly rubbing against the inside of his scratchy jeans. 

You were sure you’d never heard of a man being as turned on during cunnilingus as him. It pleased you, how passionate he was, how he’d probably beg to taste you if he got desperate enough. Something about the way he moved his tongue, lapping you up like you were his first meal after a long fast… That alone could get you off.

As he kept going, never coming up for air and drowning himself in the accumulation of your arousal, you feared he’d pass out from lack of air. “Baby,” you huffed, tugging gently on his hair as you tried to catch your breath. “You can… take a break… if you want to.” 

He only grunted in response, the animalistic hunger in that sound sending another vibration through you all on its own. He felt himself nearing his peak, with the adrenaline of fear and excitement and arousal and basic, primal need coursing through him, causing his veins to bulge underneath his suntanned skin.

In an effort to calm himself, he lowered his hand to paw at his bulge, where his cock began to pulse and throb with each angelic sigh from your open mouth. His hand only worsened the situation, the pressure unintentionally driving him to the brink of orgasm.

“Shit,” he groaned, head still tucked between your shaky thighs, with your own orgasm not far. 

At this point, you couldn’t even notice his ragged breathing or his body convulsing with each spurt erupting from the tip of his cock to coat the inside of his underwear. 

His tongue never ceased its mission, though. He never stopped lapping at the wetness of your folds. When your hands tugged at his hair the hardest they had yet, and your whimpers and moans grew louder, he knew it wouldn’t be much longer until—

“Daryl!” you cried out. “I’m… Oh, you’re going to make me come…”

And you did, waves of intense orgasmic pulses causing you to buck your hips, your clit hitting the tip of his nose and intensifying the feeling even more. “Yes!” you repeated in a hazy state of bliss. “Daryl…”

Your shaking legs dangled loosely on his shoulders, your thighs losing their grip on the sides of his head as they became numb once your orgasm began to fade. He could no longer feel your body twitching, so he raised his head to look you in the eyes, blinking gently as a wide grin split your face. 

His expression turned from hungry to shy, and slightly nervous. He looked like a schoolboy who’d just been caught doing something naughty in the boys’ bathroom. It wasn’t too far off—he knew he’d lost control of himself, and he was embarrassed, terrified you’d be disappointed in his lack of ability to keep himself from coming too soon.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you said with a slight giggle to your voice, still trembling a little from that intense feeling. “You did so good.” Your hands returned to his hair, massaging his scalp as your fingers attempted to restore the messy strands you had misplaced to their natural pattern. 

With your hands lowering to his cheeks, you pulled him forward until his lips met yours and his body aligned perfectly just above you. The sharp hardness of the kitchen counter below you wasn’t particularly forgiving on your back, but the thrill of it made it worthwhile. 

You felt his arm squirm between your bodies, his hand reaching to his crotch to adjust himself again. The discomfort he felt from the accident in his pants was hard to conceal. 

Still, you chalked it up to nerves, and you tried to hold him in place above you, but his arms were too strong to be kept still by you. “Daryl,” you huffed. “What are you doing?”

Clearing his throat, he lifted himself from you to step back from the counter, turning around quickly. “Nothin’,” he said. “Just gimme a minute.”

You heard the sound of his jeans unzipping, and the soft rustling of fabric as he tried to clean himself up. Now concerned, you lifted yourself from the counter and lowered your dress to wrap your arms around his waist and slot your forehead between his shoulder blades. He stiffened a bit, then relaxed, remembering he was in safe hands. Quite literally. There wasn’t any other touch he’d feel comfortable with but yours, even when you were just friends. Your touch was soft, dependable, like a promise. Not an empty promise, a promise with intention and devotion. 

“Did you—”

“Nah,” he said, even if you hadn’t quite finished your sentence. 

“You didn’t even know what I was going to ask,” you laughed. 

“I didn’t come.”

You scoffed and raised your head to peek over his shoulder. “Well, now I’m curious… It’s okay if you did. Actually, it’s cute.”

“Pfft.”

“Turn around.”

There wasn’t an order you could give that he wouldn’t follow, especially in this state. After a few moments of obligatory silence, he slowly turned to reveal his unzipped and unbuttoned jeans split open, where his black underwear showed a fresh whitish stain. 

You tilted your head and smiled. There was something so cute, and sexy, of course, about his inability to control himself, his struggle to keep his arousal at bay, and how much just pleasuring you with his mouth turned him on. How could he come without even being touched? You knew he was sensitive, but this was another level… It was perfect. He was perfect.

“Sorry,” he spoke under his breath, lowering his head as his eyes fluttered to occasionally look back up to you, as if checking to see your disapproval. “Jus’ still gettin’ used to it… and you’re so damn beautiful, especially when…” He trailed off, shaking his head with a self-derisive scoff.

Your shoulders shifted playfully, biting your lip as you rested your hands on his shoulders to gently massage them. They were tense, as usual, with tight knots and hard, lean muscles aching for some comfort. In the back of your mind, you wanted to remove that raggedy black button up shirt and trail kisses along those broad, workworn shoulders, upon which the world seemed to rest. Any man who spent as much time as he did caring for and protecting his community would’ve needed it, but for a man who seems to be so touch-starved, he needed it extra.

“When what?” you asked. 

He swallowed, thinking back to the sultry moans that had poured from your watering lips as he pleased you. It was more like the sound of a goddess calling upon her most loyal servant to do her bidding, and if he could take the place of that servant, he’d do it gladly. Everyday of his life. 

“When you make those little noises,” he said with a shrug, trying to speak as casually as he could. Siddiq had given him the unsolicited advice to “play it cool,” and he supposed now was the time to put that phrase into action, though he was anything but cool. “Can’t control myself.”

You sighed, trailing your fingers along his collarbone until they found the top button of his shirt, which you slowly undid before gracefully cascading to the next, and the next…

“Do you think you have anymore left in you?” you asked. Now your hunger became insatiable, with your eyes constantly returning to the bulge within his underwear, still wet and visibly a little sticky. “I mean, if you’re not too busy… I know you’re a very important man.”

Within moments, his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the sheen of sweat on his bare chest. Your fingers tickled the soft, slightly curly hairs of his happy trail, leading to his underwear. 

He let out a deep sigh as he felt your hand gently squeeze his bulge, not enough to cause pain, but enough to make him flinch. 

“I ain’t…” he said shakily, trailing off as he lost his train of thought. How was he to focus on forming words when your hand was cradling his cock, massaging it tenderly over the soft fabric of his soiled underwear. “Ain’t that important.”

You pouted teasingly, with glimmering doe eyes that betrayed your arousal. “You’re important to me. I love you, Daryl.”

His body relaxed as he registered those three lovely words. For so long he’d wondered what it was like to be loved by someone, and for the first time, he didn’t feel like there was a missing piece in his life, an empty space where that emotion should be. You’d always been special to him, and now that he could allow himself to understand his feelings completely, clarity washed over him like crisp spring rain. In its wake was every little flake of shiny gold stars he swore he saw in your eyes. 

Every movement of your fingers as you tugged his jeans and underwear from his waist made him wobble and cling to your shoulders for balance, eliciting a laugh from you. He hadn’t even noticed he failed to respond. “I love ya, too,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe, won’t let anythin’ bad happen to you. I’ll take care of you.”

You raised an eyebrow at his delirious rambling, his agape lips and increasingly ragged breaths proving to be rather adorable. 

He only noticed he was now fully naked when he heard the sound of his shirt button hitting the tile floor. “Shit, you don’t waste time,” he laughed nervously, and to prove his point, your lips crashed impatiently, tongue circling wildly in his mouth as he tried to keep up. 

“Take care of me,” you panted breathlessly against his lips, between impatient tongues twining around each other like vines. “Upstairs.”

His feet stepped on yours a few times as he tried to maneuver both your bodies up the staircase, hands moving up and down in frantic movements in attempts to rid you of your clothes. Soon you were naked at the top of the stairs, with a few superficial fingernail scratches from where Daryl’s quick, impatient hands had marred your skin.

“Shit,” he huffed against your neck, noticing a red mark from when he lifted your dress above your head. “Sorry... Did that hurt?”

You shook your head as you pulled him up the last steps. With hands cupping both cheeks, you pulled him into your room as you kissed him, until the back of your knees hit the bed, and he fell over you, both of you fully naked against each other. Everything had moved so fast, you didn’t even notice how many marks he left on you. It wasn’t painful, though. In fact, you’d hoped they’d last a while, as a reminder of what you were about to do. 

“You’d never hurt me,” you said. You were glued to his gaze, somehow soft and sweet, and hard and wild at the same time. “I feel it in your kiss. I know you love me.”

He lowered his head to nudge his nose against yours, his silky hair falling down to curtain both of your faces. “I know ya love me, too… Dunno how I got so lucky.”

You furrowed your brow and shook your head. “Stop.”

Your lips prevented him from speaking again, and your legs spreading underneath him to wrap around his waist drew his body closer. His hardening cock ached for attention, and as you writhed up and down underneath him, it fit perfectly between your folds, still wet from his saliva and the juice of your arousal. 

As if by instinct, he thrusted himself against you, his head buried sheepishly in the crook of your neck, mouth suckled to your skin where he’d no doubt leave another mark of his affection. For the first time, he was on top of you, a new position which gave him control, to some extent. He froze for a moment as he contemplated his next move. How was he to know what to do in this situation? He’d only had sex with you once, and now he was here.

“Daryl,” you muttered against his hair. “Just fuck me… Take care of me.” Your hand reached between your bodies to feel his cock. “Put this cock inside me.”

“Shit!” he suddenly exclaimed. 

Your eyes widened in shock as he lifted himself up. “What’s wrong?”

“Condom,” he said shortly, and the last thing you saw was his tight, pale little ass scurrying out the door to pick up his discarded jeans from the kitchen floor downstairs, where the condom he’d tried to carry so discreetly was held in his back pocket. 

You threw your head back and laughed, hearing Daryl’s cursing under his breath and his loud, hurried footsteps echoing through the house. He came back with the condom halfway on his cock, his hand still adjusting it until it fit just right.

“Got it.”

“Mm, baby,” you laughed, laying back down to sprawl out your arms and legs, your eyes hazy and your smile soft and warm. You writhed on the bed playfully, cupping your breasts with your hands and squeezing gently to tease his hungry, begging eyes. A part of him seemed to want to pounce on you, but another wanted to ask you permission. “Come over here and give me everything you’ve got, handyman.”

You watched in delight at the blush forming on his cheeks as he slowly but surely made his way over to you, kneeling on the edge of the bed to lower himself just above your body, where he positioned his cock to your entrance. Your hands gravitated to his shoulders, rubbing them reassuringly. 

His chest heaved with deep nervous breath after deep nervous breath. You kept your eyes locked to his cock, watching it slowly spread you open. In the shallow end, it came in at a perfect angle, tickling a special spot to make you shiver in delight. “Mmm,” you hummed. “Good boy.”

He scoffed under his breath. “Shut up.”

He inched deeper inside of you, wasting no time in going as deep as he could. There was a desperation to his movements, a deep, unavoidable need, and yet a hesitation, always lingering close behind. “This okay?” he asked under his breath. “This feel good?”

You leaned forward to tug on his strong, broad shoulders, the defined muscles flexing under his sweaty skin. His chest pressed to yours, your nipples aligning with his to tickle each other delicately. “So good,” you sighed into his lips. “I love you.”

His hips began to move on their own accord, slowly but surely moving to and fro to the rhythm of your heartbeat, the warmth between your bodies getting stronger and stronger. “I love you,” he replied.

With your arms tangled tightly around his back, he thrusted harder, in shorter, sloppier bursts. “Ah, fuck…” he groaned against your neck. You squeezed around his cock, the walls of that soft, warm passageway massaging him with each movement he made. It was suffocating in the most beautiful way, being completely overwhelmed and consumed by you and your body. Even underneath him, you still commanded him, your body forcing him to move with yours and guiding him to his pleasure, which only spurred on your pleasure. 

Your heels burrowing into the dimples of his lower back, you demanded he move more. In his position, the angle of his tip would just perfectly hit you in a sensational spot. “Daryl…” you panted. “Yes, right there, baby. You feel so good.”

He only gasped for air and groaned hoarsely under his breath in response, until his words returned to him. “I can’t… stop. Shit, (Y/N)... I’m gonna come.”

You huffed and loosened your legs’ grip around him, then pressed your hands to his chest to push him away until he pulled out of you. Much to his confusion, his body turned to obedient jelly as you maneuvered him until he lay pathetically panting and wiggling out of frustration and need to be inside you again. Not even his hand desperately tugging at his cock, wetted and dripping with your natural lubricant, could ease the pain of pleasure. 

“(Y/N)...” he practically whimpered under his breath. It was still as gruff and deep as his normal voice, but coated with a more high pitched, almost whiney layer. You watched one hand grip tightly around his aching testicles, the other massaging the reddened, leaking tip of his cock. He was right on the edge, and yet the feeling of his hands alone couldn’t release him. “Need ya… Please. I’m beggin’ for ya.”

Even his dark, pleading eyes begged for you. As much as you liked him in this state, on the edge of orgasm and needing only you to get him there, you also would love to see him come again, sooner rather than later. 

With your legs wide, you straddled his waist to meet his tip to your entrance, where your hand guided his cock, but not without thumbing at the tip teasingly, and rubbing it on your clit to please yourself with it. “Mm,” you hummed. He could only groan in response, leaning his head back as you could’ve sworn his eyes rolled back slightly. His hands grasped at your waist, trying to get himself inside of you. “You’re so cute when you’re horny,” you laughed. You let his tip enter you for a moment only to lift yourself up slightly until it slipped out, causing him to whine under his breath. “Do you like it when I tease you?”

He scoffed and looked up at you with hazy, half-closed eyes. “Woman… This is torture.”

You rolled your eyes at his hyperbole, as surely this was nothing compared to what some other, kinkier people liked to do in the bedroom. But, you supposed, you did like to torture him, if this was what he considered torture. 

“But do you like it?” you laughed, stroking his chest up and down as you lowered yourself once again onto his cock—terribly slowly, of course. 

He hissed as he watched your body envelop him again, and felt the tingle returning to his shaft as you started to circle your hips and massage him with your squeezing walls. 

“I… Fuck, I…” He threw his head back with a deep sigh and a delirious laugh trailing not far behind. “God, this is good… Ah, shit, how can ya feel this good, buttercup…”

You shrugged your shoulders as you moved faster, grinding in tighter, harder movements, with your hands planted firmly on his pecs, playfully twirling the slightly curly light brown hairs with your fingers. “Maybe my body was meant for yours.”

He reached up to pull you down. This time, he commanded you to kiss him, to slip your tongue in his mouth as he forced his into yours, with that sloppy, inexperienced kiss of his. With his hands tangling into your messy hair, he thrusted harder into you from below you, until his lips separated from yours to expel a loud, strained moan from the pit of his stomach. “Fuck!” he cried out. 

His cock pumped his spend into the reservoir of the condom, and for a while there you were sure he wouldn’t ever stop, but he did, and the moans subsided as he caught his breath and held you close, his arms almost suffocatingly tight around your back. 

For a while, you didn’t need words, just the feeling of your bodies interlaced in each other, him still inside you and making himself quite comfortable there, was enough. His chest made a wonderful pillow, despite how strong and hard it was. Somehow, it became soft for you. His body didn’t strain or flex with nerves. It simply mellowed, cushioning you. He was almost softer than the surface of your bed underneath him. 

“I ain’t ever met a woman like you,” he said, finally breaking the silence. You lifted your head to look at him, wondering what he meant by that, and if it were a good thing. 

“Like me?” you asked. “What am I like?”

“Real sweet,” he said, eyes closed and his voice slurring a little as sleep threatened to take him over. “But… real demanding.”

You scoffed. “Demanding?”

He opened his eyes as he became more alert. “Ain’t a bad thing. You know what you want, and you go after it, and ya get it.”

“Oh,” you laughed, snuggling back into his chest. “So I’m… strong willed?”

“Yeah,” he nodded sleepily. “I like it.”

“It’s not… scary?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Woman, you scare the hell outta me.”

“Oh,” you said, slightly worried now. “Sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he replied. “Told ya, I like it. I can handle ya.”

You always knew he could. 

~

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~

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[bluelangel]

GAME OF THRONES 4.02 ― “The Lion And The Rose”

[bluelangel]

#for science (oh no)

[bluelangel]

hi! this is the first time i write for daryl and the first time for tumblr as well. i dont really know how to use this app but im gonna find out!! i hope you like it, i don't write anything in ages so sorry if this is shitty. also, English it's not my first language so it may have mistakes in this, sorry.

-> warnings: smut, p in v smut, some praising kink? idk. virgin reader, female reader, light dom daryl.

-> notes: hes so hot pls rail me

You and Daryl were together since de start. Not romantically together, unfortunately, but surviving together. He and Merle found you living inside of a abandoned car, you were living there for three days and were glad they found you because you were running out of water and food.

So you joined them, for Merle dismay. He didn't seem to like you very much, said you weren't their responsibility, a burden, that's what you were to him, always calling you a cry baby or whining or stupid or helpless. Daryl didn't said any of those things about you, but he never stopped Merle from been a asshole either.

One time on the road, you fall while trying to kill a walker. Merle and Daryl had caught four of them and you thought you could at least put one down. Wrong, the dead beast har hard to kill, which caused you to fall and with it on top of you, trying to eat your face, you put your hands on its chest so he wouldn't bite your face off. You screamed for Merle's help since he was the one closer to you, but he just looked at you and scoffed.  Then you felt the dead thing weight leave your body and were finally able to breathe again. Daryl looked at you after sinking his knife into the walker's head.

"What did I tell ya, girl? Stay behind me! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Sorry" you said, and then the three of you were back in the road again.

After some days you found Shane and his group, Daryl didn't trusted none of them, that's why he told not to go on runs or be alone with those people. You, on the other hand, really liked them, and by the time you've grow fond of them all.

That brought all of you to the prison, not all of you though, a lot of your people couldn't make it.

The prison never had so much people, Woodbury citizens were living with you now after the fight with the governor.

You were talking to Gary, one of the Woodbury people, he was around your age and really pretty, didn't make yoyr type though, you've always liked older men better. But Gary was fun and turned out to be a good friend.

You felt a arm around your shoulder and didn't need to look up to know who it was. His strong men scent did the job. He couldn't see you next to a man that he was by your side in a instant. He said he didn't trusted this guys around you, that they were looking for a pretty young girl to fool around and them leave, and you didn't deserve that, his words.

"Get lost, boy" he grows. Rude. Gary try to say something but Daryl grows again and he disappears.

"That was rude" you said.

"He should be doing his damn job not be here hitting on you." He took two plates laying on the table and start putting some dry meat and cooked eggs. He beckoned you to sit and you did, then he put the plate in front of you on the table and said: "Eat." Then go back putting him some food and sitting next you. "What were you two talking about?" He shoved some eggs in his mouth.

"Nothing important. He just wanted to take a walk with me and watch the sun go down." You ate some of the eggs and take a bite of the dry meat. You were actually excited for this, in your 24 years of life you've never had a date before, nor a boyfriend, and even though this wasn't what you thought your first date would be, you wanted to enjoy a simple thing as this. Maybe this was the day you would finally lose your virginity.

He scoffed but didn't say no more.

You waited for Gary to show up, but he didn't. So you get up from the bench and started walking to your cell, the sun already down.

"So how was it?" Maggie said, coming your way, she looked excited to know all about.

"It wasn't." You just wanted to go to bed and sleep. Maggie followed you till you both were inside the cell, sitting on your bed.

"Oh, sweetie, did he said something?" She touched your face.

"He didn't even show up, Maggie! What a asshole! Daryl was right, this boys sucks." You sighed, crossing your arms. Maggie looked at you almost like she knew something. "You know what? I will confront him tomorrow. Yeah. I mean, he was the one that asked me out, he should at least show up before dumping me right?"

And that's what you did. Next morning you found him by the fences taking down the dead and went to him.

"So, why ask me out if you aren't gonna come? Just to make a fool out of me?" You were angry at him, how could he do that?

"I don't have time right now." He kept sticking the steel bar on to the walkers skull, he didn't even spare you a glance.

It was so humiliating, waiting for him there alone, people waking by and looking at you.

"I really thought you were a nice guy, you know?" He stopped what he was doing and looked past your shoulder, you followed his eyes and found Daryl looking back.

"And I really think you're nice and really pretty, but anytime you're close that guy is there, watching like a hound dog." He looked at you this time.

"Did Daryl told you something?" You looked him down, waiting his answer.

"He told me to fuck off and leave you alone, and even though you're pretty, you're not worth being beat up." He then go back doing his job, the sound of the walkers' skulls breaking ringing in to your ears.

That night you heard a knock at the cell door. You knew who it was, but you didn't want see him, not now. He opened the door and entered, not waiting for your permission.

"What do you want, Daryl?" You were lying on your side, hands under your head.

"Wanted to talk to you. To say I'm sorry." You then sat on the bed, watching and waiting for him to finish. "I didn't wanted you dating him. He don't deserve you."

"You make no sense, Daryl" you simply said.

"Telling you that I don't want you dating him doesn't make sense?" He came closer, looking straight to you in the dark room.

"Yes, you don't make any sense." You got up and walked to him. "You treat me like I am yours to take care, but I'm not really yours. You don't want anyone to date me, but you don't want me either.  You act like a protective boyfriend but you are not my boyfriend! You don't no one to have me but you won't have me! Yes, you make no sense at all."

He looked right to your eyes, his tongue getting out to wet his pinky lips, his chest rising and falling every time he took a long breath.

"Who said I don't want you?" His fingers tangled with your hair while his mouth came to find yours.

You never thought he would be this gentle, his left hand caressing your cheek while his tongue danced with yours. His lips felt like heaven and his tongue felt like paradise. He roared into your mouth when he heard you whining and broke the kiss.

"Still think I don't want ya?" His finger dragged a line to your lips to your chin. "I dont want you with anyone else because you're mine, baby."

You didn't need anymore explanations, you threw yourself into his arms, your arms around his neck. Daryl's hands flew to your ass, rubbing your covered pussy at his crotch, which make you moan against him.

"Please, Darrie." His fingers tangled and tugged at your hair until your mouths parted and you were staring at him with lust in your eyes. "I want you." You whine.

"You want my cock, sweetheart? Is that it?" You nodded. You were more than ready for this, your cunt dripping since he fir kissed you. "Want me to fuck you?" You squirmed as you heard those dirty words coming out of his mouth.

You never wanted a man like you want him, you just wanted him to fuck you hard and rough till you pass out. And all though you were a virgin, you had this fire inside you, ready to explode.

He dragged you to your bed and started taking your clothes off til you were naked in front of him. It was dark and the only thing illuminating the room was a candle, but you could see him perfectly. His beautiful eyes staring at your naked body like a animal ready to attack its prey.

"This is all mine" he grows, lying on top of you. "This pussy is mine." His fingers traveled to your private area, dragging circles on you clit. "This tits are mine." His mouth taking your breast and sucking on it.

You were over the moon, you couldn't even talk, just moan and tug at his hair. His fingers working on your sensitive bud until you were panting, he then put a finger inside your wet pussy, making you squirm and scream.

"Fuck, baby you are so tight. I'ma gonna have to open you up for my cock, huh? You think you can take it?" His finger circled your canal while his thumb worked on you clit. "I'ma gonna make this virgin pussy come real good." You never told Daryl you were a virgin, you didn't knew he knew. That was embarrassing. Your cheeks were hot and your eyes were shut, enjoying the most amazing thing you ever felt in your life. Till you felt like your body was boiling and was about to explode. Screams and moans came out of your mouth as you came, your breath heavy in your chest and Daryl's fingers deep in your pussy.

"That was so good, darrie." You felt relaxed, like you just get out of a hot shower.

"You want more, baby?" You nod to his question. He took his clothes off in less then ten seconds and was already on top of you, his cock touching your mound, it was heavy and thick and scared you a bit. "Relax for me, pretty girl." He took your legs and positioned on his hip, but didn't thrust at you yet. "You are the most beautiful woman I ever seen. So caring and gentle and passionate." He kissed you once again.

"I love you, Darrie." You couldn't control yourself, covering your mouth after saying.

"I love you, baby." He found his tip with the opening of your desperate cunt and pushed all his length inside you.

It was so thick it felt like was parting you in half, and it felt so good.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good" he cursed, gis forehead touching yours.

"Ohh, God, Darrie!" you moan. "It's sooo good. Go harder please."

"You wanna me to go harder?" and he did, his hips going against yours, his huge cock coming out and coming in hard and fast inside you, making the most sinful noises you ever heard, and it turn you on so much. "I'ma gonna destroy this pussy, is that what you want?"

"Yes, God, yes!" you whimpered, on the verge of tears.

"I'ma gonna come inside this pussy. Make it mine." He roared.

"Yes, darrie. Right there, please!"

"Say you're mine, girl." He pounced hard in you, making you see stars.

"I'm yours, darrie, forever." You grabbed your tits and squeezed them.

"Fuck I'ma gonna come inside you, woman. Get you pregnant so all of them bitches know your mine."

That sent you on fire and you came, hard, with a desperate cry that Daryl has to put it down so you didn't wake the whole prison. With his left hand on mouth, his right hand under your knee, he fucked you while kneeling on the bed. Your sensitive cunt making wet noises while he indeed destroyed your pussy. You came again, felling his hot cum spurs inside you. He lowered himself and lay on top of your chest, his dick still inside you.

"Gonna make sure your pussy sucks all my cum."

And you both slept like that, tired and sticky with sweat.

Next morning you heard Rick say to Daryl: "Next time don't make so much noise, would you?"

You felt your cheeks hot and almost die of embarrassment.

[bluelangel]

i really wanna write something for daryl but i never wrote anything for him, nor in English and never for tumblr. yah i kinda dont know where to start

[bluelangel]

Campfire Behind Bars

Have a "seat," y'all, cuz I fulfilled a durrrty little request!

From Anon: Hello! I've been following your blog for few weeks now and I've read almost everything and I really like your work. Was wondering if I could write a Daryl Dixon smut. So like Daryl is chilling with Rick in the prison courtyard around the campfire and they are both getting drunk on beers, Daryl more than Rick and a drunk Daryl starts babbling about how awesome the reader is like he is basically simping and basically lets a few of his fantasies in bed slip [basically compliments her assets something along the lines that he wants to make babies with her] (Daryl has a huge breeding kink) and the reader overhears him and decided to fulfill his wishes :)

"I want her to sit on my face," Daryl slurred with a drunken grin on his face.

Rick coughed out a small laugh of shock. "Jesus Christ, Daryl!"

It was our third month at the prison. T-Dog found cases of beer in the administrative building and everybody was celebrating. Some people had one before bed, others had so many they made a patch of grass their bed, but Rick and Daryl were the only two still sitting around the fire. Or so they thought.

I had gone back out after helping Maggie carry Glenn to bed to find my giant ring of keys. As I felt around in the grass on my hands and knees, I listened curiously when I heard Daryl say my name.

"Ever since I first saw her at the quarry, doing laundry, her clothes all wet and stuck to her and shit. She got curves like… like… like a pin-up girl, ya know."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Rick admitted shyly.

I felt my face burning up in the cool night air. I only remembered Ed and Merle watching me lasciviously. I thought Daryl didn't even notice me until… well, never like that, anyway.

"But she's…" Daryl continued musing, "she's so… good! She's a good-un. Good woman. Good egg. Never hurt nobody. Always sweet and helping and taking care. She's got it all."

"And you got it bad, brother," Rick declared.

"I know. All winter she slept next to me. Wanted to hold her and wrap her up and warm her up, ya know what I mean! Kept me fucking warm thinking bout her. What she'd look like on top of me."

That's when Daryl let his wildest fantasy slip within my earshot. I forgot what I was even doing out there as all of my blood pounded in my ears.

Daryl crushed his empty beer can and groaned, "Imagine what she'd look like pregnant. Tits all big and full of milk. Suck on 'em for hours. She'd be a fucking great mama, too."

"Ok, that's enough. Let's get you to bed, tiger," Rick decided and shakily stood up. I hastily got to my feet and ran back as quietly as I could. Not that either of them had any situational awareness right then anyhow.

I heard Daryl snicker as he stumbled inside with Rick.

"Don't fuckin tell nobody," Daryl begged. "Can't tell her. Ever."

"Why not?" Rick asked as they rounded the corner and passed me, hidden in the pitch black corner of the hallway.

"Cuz ain't good 'nough for 'er," Daryl sighed. "She deserves better. Ain't gonna carry no redneck Dixon babies."

"Ah that's bullshit," Rick stated. "Ya think I'd have a redneck asshole for my new best friend, huh? 'Sides, ain't exactly lotta choices in the dating pool anymore. It's either you or the inmates now. I know who I'd choose."

"Fuck ya," Daryl snorted a laugh.

They both laughed too loudly as they disappeared into the cell block.

I stood in the cold, dark space until my legs ached. Shock quickly turned to arousal.

It wasn't just that Rick was correct about the lack of options for a mate. It wasn't just that I was jealous of Maggie and Glenn. It wasn't just the thought of experiencing someone's tongue between my legs.

It was the way Daryl licked his lips. It was Daryl's blue eyes. Daryl's thick fingers. Daryl. All of Daryl.

Arousal turned into plotting. The timing was perfect. If I'd overheard this during my time on the road, it would've been impossible to make it happen. Now that I had my choice of empty buildings and infinite privacy, this would be easy.

I'd never seduced anyone before. I'd been with boyfriends and once had a drunken hook-up with a friend. But I missed sex, I was attracted to Daryl, and he would definitely be willing. This would be easy.

Our group, with the help of the two still-living, friendly prisoners Axel and Oscar, had cleared every building. I all had enough to eat, water for bathing, full nights of rest, and my first taste of peace in over a year. I deserved to live, fully.

It was obvious that Daryl remembered nothing the next day when he sat next to me during breakfast, nursing a hangover. Rick, on the other hand, had a certain twinkle in his eye when he looked at the two of us sitting side-by-side. I smiled extra big and looked at Daryl. Rick cocked his eyebrows. I winked. The sheriff choked on his oatmeal, then walked away shaking his head.

The first thing I needed was privacy. My tiny group had all set up in the same cell block, knowing there was safety in numbers, but there were plenty of other empty buildings. Cell block A would be perfect.

Next I needed to get Daryl up there with me, alone. He'd easily go along if I just said I needed help with something. But if the others questioned, if they went looking for us, if they (likely Glenn) couldn't take the hint and insisted on coming with, it was a failure.

I zeroed in on Rick. He damn sure knew what Daryl wanted, and he certainly got my hint as well. He was discreet, respectful, and he cared. He wanted people to be happy, as well as safe.

I cornered him in the armory a few days later as he was counting the rifle bullets.

"Hey, what's up?" He asked casually as I sat on the stool next to him.

"I think you know," I said simply, unashamedly.

He grinned and shook his head. "Ya heard us that night, didn't you?" I nodded. "Alright," he sighed, "what can I do?"

"Send him to cell block A tomorrow afternoon."

"That's it?" He asked, surprised. "You don't mess around, do you?"

"Nope."

"Good. But if you break his heart- -"

"I'd feed myself to the walkers before ever hurting him," I declared seriously. "It's not just sex."

"Good. Cuz it won't be for him either. He said some dirty thangs that night, but it wasn't the first time we'd talked. I seen him looking at ya since the start. Despite outward appearances, he's got a soft spot, and you're the center of it. Don't be careless with my best friend."

"I won't. I promise." I jokingly held up my pinky finger. Rick laughed and hooked it back.

The next afternoon I was waiting, pacing in one of the quiet cells when I heard Daryl's boots stomp up the stairs.

"S'goin on? Rick said ya needed help up here?" He asked casually.

"I do," I answered, then hesitated.

"Well?" He shrugged, waiting.

As I'd decided and planned, I got right to it. "I don't know if you remember or not, but the other night, around the campfire, I heard what you said to Rick. About me." I swallowed hard, every particle in my body buzzing, and watched the color drain from Daryl's face. He shuffled from one foot to the other as he twisted his fingers anxiously.

"Don't… dunno what you're talkin 'bout," he stuttered. "Ain't got all day so whatever I want- -"

"It's ok," I reassured him. "I'm not upset. I… I liked hearing it."

"Dunno what the fuck ya think ya heard but ain't got time for this!" He said, raising his voice as he turned to leave.

"Daryl, wait," I said as I reached out for him. "I didn't mean to embarrass you, I'm sorry. I thought- -"

"Just forget it!" He yelled. "I say stupid shit when I'm drunk." He slammed the door open on his way out and left me standing there, rattled and sad.

I sat down on the freshly made-up cot, closed my eyes, held my sinuses, and tried to breathe deeply.

Now what?

I hadn't planned on him reacting like that. I thought it was a sure thing. Now, how could I face him again? Face the others?

What was I thinking? Of course he was just drunk, and of course he was just Daryl. He didn't do feelings, he didn't handle emotions well, he lashed out when he felt trapped. That was exactly what I'd done.

I stayed there for at least an hour, trying not to cry, regretting, wondering if I should just stay there alone forever.

Eventually I put on my big girl panties and walked out. I went to get dinner and heard Carol say that Daryl went hunting. I knew he was running away, but I was grateful he wasn't there.

I was quiet all night. The others noticed but I claimed I had a migraine and went to bed early. As I passed Rick on the way to my cell he patted me on the shoulder with a sympathetic look.

"I was so, so, so stupid," I huffed with a sad laugh.

"No, I wasn't," Rick insisted forcefully. "He's just… let me talk to him."

"God no, please don't. I just want to pretend this never happened, ok."

"Alright. Just trying to help."

I patted his hand gratefully. "I know. Thanks for trying."

Daryl came back early the next morning with a bunch of squirrels but covered in walker blood. I was helping Carol make breakfast when he dropped his kills on the table. He looked at me softly, almost apologetically, but I avoided his gaze.

"Thanks," I said, trying to sound casual but cold instead.

"Shower," Carol pointed at him.

"Yes ma'am," he mumbled as walked off.

Carol, perceptive as ever, gave me a knowing smile after he left but said nothing.

I went about my chores until Rick pulled me aside.

"I know it's a delicate topic but is there anything good we can use in cell block A? Any tools, furniture, anything?"

"Umm, yeah, I guess. There's tons more beds, linens, benches."

He nodded. "Show me?"

I led him up the second floor but saw Daryl already stacking up benches. As soon as he saw me, Rick closed the door behind me and locked it in front of him. I glared at him through the glass and Daryl yelled, "What the fuck?!"

"Work. It. Out," Rick yelled through the door so I could hear him. "I can't have weirdness between you two. I'll be back later."

I folded my arms and leaned against the wall in defeat. Daryl tried the door handle several times before giving up.

"I'm sorry. I can forget about it. We can go back to how we were," I explained calmly.

Daryl grabbed my face and slammed our mouths together. My muffled cries of surprise turned into satisfied moans as our hastily misplaced lips moved together in sync. He slowly swirled his tongue and licked my upper lip before coming up for air.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You owe me," I smiled.

"What do you want?" He asked with a shy, crooked smile.

"The same thing you do!" I licked his lips, grabbed his collar, and pushed him back to the cot.

"Kay but… I ain't ever… might disappoint ya," he said with a hanging head as I kicked my sneakers off.

"I'll lead you," I said desperately as I pushed my jeans and underwear off. Daryl sat on the cot and pulled me onto his lap to kiss me again. Held the back of my head as he hungrily lapped at me, giving me a preview of what he could do elsewhere. I started grinding on his bulging lap and broke away to beg.

"Daryl? Need to feel it now," I moaned.

"Come 'ere, girl," he said as he laid flat and watched me climb up him. It was my first time in this position as well, and I felt awkward crawling up to kneel over his head. Once Daryl grabbed my ass from behind and darted his tongue into my folds, I couldn't feel anything else. I gripped the metal bed frame in front of me and started rocking my hips over his face. At first he struggled to gain his bearings, trying to match my rhythm while creating his own. He slid his hands down to the top of my thighs and pulled me down slightly. I slowed my hips as his tongue flattened around my clit, then took it into his mouth. My constant whines of pleasure drowned out Daryl's hungry groans as he licked my core. His mouth left my clit to dip his pointed tongue in my dripping pussy. My hips bucked wildly as I rode his tongue and his nose swiped my swollen nub. I kept one white-knuckled grip on the iron bars of the headboard and reached back to cup his distended crotch. Daryl roared up into me and buried his face, shaking his nose and tongue until my body convulsed, then turned rigid and I screamed up towards the ceiling. Daryl’s tongue continued massaging, then teasing, sending aftershocks through my stupefied form.

I felt Daryl roll his head to kiss around my lips and reach for my inner thighs. Awareness returned and I inched back to sit above his chest. I let go of his erection to press that hand against the wall for balance. The awkwardness returned as I tried to gracefully back off of him, until Daryl's lustful eyes locked with mine. Once my thighs rested beside his waist, I leaned over to stroke his slicked chin.

"Thank you," I panted.

"Nah," he said, reaching for my face as well, "thank you."

We both let out relieved, joyful chuckles. Daryl sat up and kissed me again, letting me taste myself. He was painfully hard as I settled over his lap and my hips reacted again. His mouth fell open and he whimpered pitifully, "Help me, Y/N!"

I quickly undid his belt and pants and pulled him free, gripped his head, and pulled it to my still eager entrance. He grabbed my ass again, growled almost angrily, and pulled me forward until he was fully engulfed. I held onto his neck and worked every muscle I had to pump him inside me. His grip on my bottom helped as his strong arms helped rock my lower half.

"Did you mean it?" I asked weakly while I exerted myself.

"All of it," he said without hesitation. "Do you?"

I nodded and kissed him softly. Fatigue spread through my muscles and Daryl sensed I was struggling to keep up. "Hold on to me." He held my waist and spun us around, then laid me down and settled above me, leaning slightly to my right. He lifted my left leg and held it at his hip as he gently thrusted into me. I pushed his sweaty, darkened, growing hair back as my eyes locked again.

"Don't stop," I murmured as his movements grew heavy, pounding, needy. "It's ok. It's safe right now," I affirmed.

"Fuck, I gotta," he heaved thankfully as his hips jerked and jolted. The clipped noises escaping him turned to prolonged, almost pained groans until he hammered up into my hilt and erupted. I cried out with him as he grazed the right spots at the end. I was just shy of reaching another orgasm with him, but it still satisfied me to feel him release himself to me. He dropped his weight and laid his head on my chest. I didn't stop smoothing his now soaked chestnut strands and wrapped my leg up around his waist. We held each other tightly, wrapped up in our own cocoon in a tiny gray cell, in an abandoned prison, with the decaying world held at bay. We both chose life when we chose each other.

Long after I caught my breath and Daryl softened and retreated out of me, he only moved to look up at me from my shoulder.

"I'm real sorry 'bout yesterday."

"Me too. I should've known that- -"

"Nah, ain't on you. I'm an asshole when I'm nervous," he explained.

"You don't have to be nervous around me," I said.

"Yeah, I do. Cuz of how I feel about ya. How much I wanted ya but couldn't have ya."

"You could've had me all along, Daryl. You can have me now."

"I'm no good at this. Never even… never had a girlfriend before. Never taken nobody on a date. Was never gonna have a wife or kids or house or nothing. Wait," something sparked his memory and he lifted his head. "Why'd ya say it was safe 'right now'?"

I sighed and closed my eyes. "I can't get pregnant right now."

"Why not? Look at me, darlin. What's wrong?"

I opened my eyes and sadly clarified, "My period stopped months ago. Can't get pregnant til it restarts. Hershel said it's from malnutrition. Once I've had enough to eat for a while it should restart. We've been raiding the prison pantry since we got here so it should be soon! I hope."

Daryl never broke eye contact. "S'just a pipe dream anyhow. It ain't really safe otherwise …" He trailed off without mentioning Lori. He recovered and smiled. "Still gonna go hunting every day, bring back a deer, rabbits, fatten you up, get ya healthy again."

I laughed. "You just want my boobs to get bigger!"

"Kinda," he smiled bigger and looked down sheepishly.

We both realized that we were still mostly dressed when I said, "You haven't actually seen them yet!" I pulled my shirt off, then fought with my sports bra, and flung them both to the foot of the bed. Daryl looked down and brushed his fingertips along the sides, then up in between my ribs and over the top of my chest.

"They're beautiful. Like you," he said sweetly.

"Your turn," I said as I unbuttoned his shirt.

"Wait," he held my fingers still. "You're gonna see what it means being a Dixon kid."

"What?" I asked, confused and slightly nervous. He let me finish with the buttons. I pushed the right shoulder back, then the left, and saw the long, poorly healed scars. I pressed my hand to one and he closed his eyes.

"Which one?" I asked.

"Dad," he answered, barely.

I suddenly understood what Daryl meant as he stumbled in with Rick that night. I understood why Rick was so concerned with his friend's feelings. Daryl was a man who needed so much love but didn't know how to take it or accept it.

I leaned up and kissed him softly.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say."

"Don't gotta say anything. You're still holding me. That's all I want."

"Then come closer," I said and wrapped my arms around him. He kicked his pants and boxers to the floor and we laid there, relaxed, content, our own little world suddenly brighter and warmer.

We didn't need to talk. Our fingers made trails along each other's skin. He moved up and rested his head on the pillow next to me. We held each other's faces. Soft kisses turned more demanding, caresses turned to squeezes, and our bodies stirred in fire once more.

The sun was setting and we were both getting dressed when Rick returned. He softly tapped on the glass, then smiled when he saw Daryl buttoning up his shirt. He unlocked and opened the door.

"So it's… settled?" He smirked.

"No, we hate each other," I joked and punched Daryl's arm.

"Woman!" Daryl teased.

We walked towards Rick to leave but he stopped us. "Ah, I really did want all the furniture and stuff so, help me bring some of this down? If ya have any energy left?" He teased.

"Only if you leave at least one bed up here!" I bargained. "And no one else comes up here but us."

Rick shook his head with a smirk. "Fine, fine, c'mon."

Daryl blushed, but thanked me the next day. And the next day. And the next night. And the day after…

Thank you thank you thank you for reading!!!

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dear lord have mercy

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dear lord have mercy