#Pre Negan

[grabyoursaintsandpray]

Teacher!Negan doing what he loves.

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

First Date

kinktober day 29 - semi-public sex

Pairing: Negan x Fem!Reader

Summary: You go on a date with Negan and you end up having sex in a bathroom stall.

Warnings: Smut, semi-public sex.

A/N: This is pre-apocalypse. Also, this is a little late because I was going to post it last night but I fell asleep lol.

You struggled to keep quiet as Negan bucked up into you, your heels clinking against the porcelain of the toilet with every thrust he made into you.

You were currently straddling his lap, your feet tucked up behind him on the back of the toilet as he helped you urge your hips over him.

And you were struggling to keep it down as you moaned against his shoulder, the sensation of his cock dragging along your walls feeling amazing as you rocked your hips over him.

"Fuck." Negan sighed, his beard scraping against the side of your neck as he dragged his mouth over your skin. "This is one hell of a first date."

"Shut up." You whispered, your eyes screwing shut as you worked yourself over him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He just let out a low chuckle before snapping his hips up into you, making you gasp out at the sudden force.

Although your little moment was soon interrupted when you heard the bathroom door swing open, the sound of heels clicking on the floor.

You remained completely frozen on top of Negan as you looked down into the stall beside you. Someone was in there.

But whilst you were trying your best to keep still, Negan had other plans as he continued to slowly thrust up into you, an amused smirk on his face as he dug his fingers into your hips, keeping you in place.

"Negan." You hissed, trying to keep your voice down as you glared at him.

He just grinned at you, quickening his movements slightly as he helped bring your hips down on him.

And somehow you found yourself suddenly complying, allowing him to do as he pleased.

You held your breath as you rolled your hips over him, concentrating on not making a sound. And you had to admit, the idea that somebody could potentially hear you right now seemed to add a certain level of excitement to this.

You bit your lip, a fire beginning to pool in your belly as Negan continued to thrust into you, your ass bouncing against his thighs with every movement.

You only lasted a few more seconds before you were smashing your lips against his in a desperate kiss, an attempt to muffle your moans as you came close to your release.

And when the fire finally exploded, you kept your mouth against his as a wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Negan groaned into your mouth then, his dick twitching inside you before he came.

When you looked down to check the other stall, you realised that they'd gone and you'd been so consumed in your moment of bliss that you hadn't even heard them leaving.

"So." Negan panted, bringing your attention back to him. "Second date?"

[Kinktober Masterlist] [Main Masterlist] [Negan Masterlist]

[pedroscurls]

Title: One Drunken Night (Part 1.)

CHAPTER TITLE: An Unexpected Stranger

Character(s): Negan (pre-apocalypse), Reader (third-person POV), Lucille Summary: Reader’s date stands her up, so she decides to stay at the bar anyway. Then, she meets Negan who unravels her entire world.  Word Count: 2,462 Author's Note: I have been so excited to write this story and I can't wait for you all to read it. It is an alternate universe for the characters I'm writing and pre-apocalyptic as well. Also, I'm giving a warning that I am including Lucille in this story and while I love her and Negan together, this story will showcase their crumbling marriage. So bear with me! It'll all be worth it... Enjoy! Warning: SMUT!!!

“I’m trying, Lucille!” Negan yelled, running a hand over his face. 

“Not hard enough,” she spat back.

This had become the norm. Negan would get home from work and Lucille would nitpick every little thing he was doing wrong. It had been like this for so long that he had gotten used to it. He didn’t know what happened in his marriage that caused this abrupt shift, but he was tired. He was exhausted. 

“Nothing I do will ever be enough, will it?”

Lucille crossed her arms over her chest. “Seems like it.”

“Goddamn, Lucille. What the fuck do you want from me?”

“I want you to find a better job. We’ve already talked about this. You even agreed with me, even told me how you hate your job now, but you aren’t even doing anything about it!”

“Like I said, I’m trying.”

“Oh? And how’s that?” Lucille replied, shaking her head. “You come home and go straight to that game of yours, cursing at other kids… You’re a gym coach, Negan! I know that’s not what you want to continue doing.”

Negan scoffed. He rolled his eyes and looked over at her. “You don’t know what I want.”

“Yes, I do! You’ve complained about that job for so long, but you’re not doing shit about it and I am tired of hearing you complain.”

Negan tightened his jaw. He knew she was right, but he just was too comfortable at the position he was in now that he didn’t want to start over and look for another job. He didn’t want change. “My complaining isn’t hurting anybody.”

“It’s all you talk about!” 

“Well, that’s a fucking lie. You’re no saint either, Lucille.”

She shook her head. “I’m trying to make this work.”

“How? By yelling at me every fucking day?”

She threw her hands in the air and sighed, looking over at Negan. “I don’t know what to do to help you anymore, Negan.”

“I don’t need fucking help, Lucille.” He spat, turning on his heel. He grabbed his car keys and left the house, slamming the front door shut. Negan needed to get out of the house. He didn’t know how much more he could take, but he needed space, he needed fresh air. 

So, he went to a bar in the city. Negan looked down at his hand and sighed, removing his wedding ring and putting it in the glovebox. For one night, he just wanted to forget.

Taking a seat at the bar, he ordered a glass of scotch and focused his attention on the basketball game that was being broadcasted. He had lost count of how many nights he and Lucille argued. He didn’t know what happened in his marriage that led to the constant arguments, the constant nitpicking. He didn’t even feel like Lucille wanted, or even loved him, anymore. If anything, the look in her eyes was always filled with disappointment. While the arguments were consistent, his sex life with Lucille wasn’t. He tried to initiate sex plenty of times, hoping that physical intimacy would ease whatever tension was built up, but she had rejected him every single time. So, Negan had become quite acquainted with his hand. It wasn’t the same, but he didn’t know what else to do.

He was so distracted in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed a beautiful woman sitting next to him. Alone.

“Goddammit!” Negan heard her say. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, noticing that she was also focused on the game. “How’d he miss that shot?” she asked herself.

Negan downed his drink and raised a finger to order another. It was the courage he needed to make conversation. “You a Lakers fan?”

She didn’t face him, but she nodded. “Oh yeah. Though, the 2008 Lakers is my all-time favorite.”

Negan smirked to himself. He yearned for conversation that didn’t lead to him getting yelled at. “I’m Negan.”

She finally turned her attention to him. She surely wasn’t expecting someone as handsome and ruggedly sexy as him to talk to her, so it took her by surprise. The salt and pepper beard sat perfectly on his face, showcasing his dimples and his thin, inviting lips. 

He was the perfect distraction she needed.

“That’s an interesting name.”

“Yeah… Don’t ask me why my parents decided on it.”

She giggled. Negan was feeling increasingly confident. “I’m Y/N.”

“Well, nice to meet you. You waiting on anyone?”

“Had a date.” 

“Oh, that bad?”

“He stood me up.”

“Ah fuck, I’m sorry, doll. His loss.”

She smiled, shrugging a shoulder. “It wasn’t serious. To be honest with you, it probably would’ve just ended up with me hooking up with him anyway.”

Negan choked on his drink, quietly coughing to clear his throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Hm? Oh, I met him on this dating app. You know what that is?”

Negan scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. “Of course. I’m not that fucking old.”

“Well then, you should know that those dates rarely turn into something serious. It’s an easy way to hook up with someone.”

“Pretty thing like you don’t got a boyfriend?”

She grinned. “I can’t be tamed.” Though, she was partly lying. She had her eye on someone, developed a crush, but the man didn’t know. 

Negan instead laughed. He shook his head and motioned to her empty drink. “What are you drinking? I’ll pay for the next round.”

“What a gentleman.” She winked. “Drinking a glass of moscato.” 

“Fancy.” Negan smiled, ordering another glass of wine for her. 

“Hardly.”

“So, it seems like you’re shit out of luck in the hooking up department,” he commented. Negan stared into her eyes and could tell that she was thinking the same thing. He watched her bite her lower lip, practically confirming that she wanted him too.

“Maybe not. The night is young, Negan.” She then turned her attention back to the game, once more getting excited with the game. Negan looked at her with an amused gaze. 

Oh, he was definitely going to sleep with her tonight. He would deal with the consequences tomorrow.

A couple of hours later, Negan and Y/N were now facing each other. His long legs were brushing against hers, practically inviting her to spread her legs for him. She was getting handsy, either running her fingertips along his forearms or running her hands along his thighs. It made Negan excited at the thought of how his night was going to end. It would feel good to feel something other than his hand for once.

“I can’t believe my team lost,” she said, feigning a pout.

“You poor thing,” Negan replied, leaning in closer to her. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked innocently.

“Hm…” I can think of a few things,” she whispered, biting her lower lip.

“Oh yeah?” What do you have in mind, doll?” Negan smirked.

“Wanna go back to my place?” she asked.

Negan grinned. “Let’s get out of here.”

Back at her apartment, Negan didn’t let her kiss him. Internally, he was battling with himself, but he couldn’t help the ache in his lower half. His mind drifted to Lucille, but he pushed the thought away once he saw Y/N pull her shirt over her head to reveal that she wasn’t even wearing a bra back at the bar.

“What?” she asked, undoing the button on her pants.

“Y–You weren’t wearing a bra while we were at the bar?”

She shook her head, licking her lips. “Who needs ‘em?”

Negan growled, pulling her to him and running his lips along her neck. He peppered kisses along her soft skin, hearing her whimper as a result. He felt his cock stir awake, pushing against the fabric of his pants. His hands ran along her sides, feeling her skin against his fingertips as he brought both hands to grasp her breasts. She gasped and Negan pulled back to look at her.

“Goddamn, you are beautiful.”

She grinned, pushing him down onto her bed. Y/N undid her pants, pulling them down with her panties as she stood in front of him, naked.

“Take your clothes off,” she demanded.

“Oh, yes ma’am.” Negan nodded, removing his shirt and tossing it to the floor. Quickly, he undid the buckle on his belt and undid the button and unzipped his pants. Before he could push it down his legs, he watched Y/N kneel down in front of him. Immediately, he got excited about what was to come and he sat up, watching as her hands ran up his legs to the waistband of his pants.

“Can I?” she asked, fluttering her eyes innocently.

Negan smirked, bringing a hand down to cup her cheek. “Oh, you better, doll.”

She grinned and pulled his pants down with his boxers. His cock sprang free, twitching against his lower abdomen as Negan let out a quiet moan at the pressure that was released. He let his hands rest at either side of him, licking his lips.

“Well?” He asked.

“It’s– It’s big.”

He smirked. “It ain’t gonna suck itself, doll.”

“Can you at least say please?”

Negan growled, bringing a hand to grasp a chunk of her hair. He used his free hand to grasp his cock, letting his tip run along her wet lips. “Oh no, doll… If anyone’s going to be begging, it’s going to be you. Now, open up.”

“Happily,” she winked, parting her lips to let his tip slip inside. 

Negan groaned, releasing his cock and allowed her to take hold of it instead. He forced himself to keep it together, feeling her petite hand stroke his member as her lips sucked on his tip. It was the right amount of pleasure that caused his eyes to roll shut.

“Fuck,” he growled.

Y/N was feeling accomplished, slowly moving in sync with her hand and her mouth. She used her hand to stroke what her mouth couldn’t. She could feel him stiffen further and taste the liquid that was leaking at his tip. She was becoming increasingly wet and she wanted to feel him inside of her.

“Get up here,” Negan demanded. He was probably thinking the same thing. “I don’t know how long I’m going to fucking last if you keep doing that.”

She pulled away, licking her lips. “Mm, I really do love blowjobs.”

Negan grunted. He was enjoying her colorful language and the fact that she wasn’t holding anything back. He was used to women, especially Lucille, who didn’t like giving head and he always hated asking for it, but here was someone who eagerly enjoyed it as much as he did receiving it. 

“Where do you want me?” She asked innocently.

“Oh, don’t play that innocent card on me, baby.” Negan grinned, pulling her onto his lap. She felt his tip brush against her opening, causing her to whimper as a result. “We both know how naughty you are.”

She grinned. “Shh, it’s our little secret.” Negan didn’t have time to register or respond because she had grasped his cock, lining his tip to her opening before she slowly lowered herself onto him. He moaned aloud, feeling her tight walls wrap around his cock so eagerly.

“Fucking fuck!” He exclaimed, bringing his hands to her hips. “You feel amazing.”

Her response was a loud moan, slowly lifting herself up and down along him. She pressed her feet on either side of his legs, squatting down repeatedly as she felt his cock stretch her from within. It had been like nothing she felt before and she decided that she was going to stop going after men her own age. After all, she always had a thing for older men.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as her rhythm picked up in speed. 

Negan grunted, allowing her to ride him like her life depended on it. This was definitely better than his hand. 

“Fuck, baby.” Negan grunted, holding her flush against him as she moaned at the feel of him being fully inside her. “Yeah, look at you… Taking that dick like a champ.”

She moaned, staying still for a moment as she wrapped her legs around him. Negan grinned, standing from the bed and slowly lowering her onto her back. He pulled back, looking down at his slickened member once he pulled out.

“No… Come back.” She whimpered, pulling him by the hips.

“Where’s my please?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Please.”

“Good girl.” Negan grinned, grasping his cock and slamming into her. She moaned once more, moving her hands to grasp her sheets tightly. 

Negan didn’t hold back anymore. He continued to slam into her repeatedly, the sounds of their skin slapping echoed throughout her walls. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, causing Negan to lean down to latch his lips onto one of her nipples. Y/N arched her back into his mouth, feeling her walls slowly begin to tighten around him.

“Fuck, I know you’re close… Come for me, baby.” Negan mumbled against her, flicking his tongue against her erected nipple.

With one thrust, he felt her walls tighten almost painfully around him. She practically screamed out in pleasure with her eyes shut and her body shaking against him.

“That’s right… Good girl.” Negan didn’t falter, continuing his thrusts as he felt his own climax approaching. With a few more thrusts, he groaned aloud, filling her opening with his release. 

“Fuck…” He whispered, falling against her. “Fuck.”

She grinned, running her fingertips along his back. 

“You were great,” she said. “Really great.”

Negan smiled, pulling back and slowly pulling out of her. “You were too.”

“Just so we’re clear…” Negan heard her say. “This won’t be happening again.”

Negan arched a brow. “You sure?”

She nodded. “Positive. It’s called a hook up for a reason.”

Negan smiled, pulling his shirt over his head and grabbing his boxers and jeans. She was probably right anyway. He was still married and it wasn’t like they could just be in a relationship after this.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted.” He said, pulling his boxers on to cover himself. Negan took one last glance over her bare body before she covered herself with the blanket.

“I agree. It was– It was sensational.”

“Oh, now you’re stroking my ego.”

“I was stroking something else there for a minute,” she winked.

Negan laughed. “Take it easy, doll. Thank you for an amazing night.”

She nodded, biting her lower lip. “Take care of yourself, Negan.”

Negan gave her one last nod and left her apartment. He sighed, walking to his car and stepping inside. He opened the glove box and pulled out his ring, taking a deep sigh. 

“Back to reality…”

---

Part 2.

[curlymantis]

I commissioned @tommieglenn to draw my girl Mary and Negan pre apocalypse. Mary’s having a little moment where she’s reminiscing! 🥺💖

Once again thank you so so much!!! I love it :D

[band--psycho]

Negan x Reader - To Stay Or To Go?

Yes it has been about a year since I last posted a Negan story - I'm sorry!

I know this story isn't the best but I hope you all enjoy this!💛

And yes I will be writing a part 2!

A sigh slipped past Y/n's lips when she heard a knock at the door; her best friend and bridesmaid, Kass, had gone out to fetch the curling tongs from her room, seen as Y/ns decided to break, today of all days.

'Could she cancel a wedding because of broken curling tongs?' she thought to herself.

“It’s open,” Y/n called out; as she stared at the dress that was hung up against the wardrobe at the back of the room.

Anxiety consuming her.

The hours were going by so quickly and yet there were still two hours before her wedding.

Her wedding…the idea still sounded bizarre.

Part of her did love the man she was marrying today; Y/f/n; he was funny, thoughtful, kind, caring and the sex between them was certainly better than sex she’d had with most people.

Most people in her position would be jumping up and down with excitement if he proposed to them; but even though Y/n pretended to be happy, she wasn’t.

Not really.

But she also didn’t want to break Y/f/ns heart or embarrass him; how could she say no without doing both of those things when he proposed to her in the middle of dinner while they were sitting in an extremely busy restaurant?

Everyone’s eyes were on her, expectantly, forcing the word yes to fall from her lips; and then it was like she just got caught up in this whirlwind and couldn’t get out.

And the one thing that held her back from loving the man she was marrying today, was something neither of them could ever change; he wasn’t Negan....

“How you feeling, sweetheart?”

The unexpected deep voice snapped Y/n out of her thoughts.

She wanted to turn around; to see if the owner of the familiar voice was really here; but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

She was frozen on the spot, trying to work out if somehow she’d become a witch and teleported the

man her heart truly desired here.

He couldn’t be here?

How did he even know she was here?

There were so many questions that just didn’t make sense that she was sure she must’ve made up the whole scenario in her head; probably a warning from her heart to stop the wedding from happening.

To run.

“You not even gonna look at me, doll?” Negan asked, humor lightly lacing his voice. But Y/n did not move. She stayed frozen in the same spot.

“You’re not real,” she breathed; her mind continuously repeating those very words, over and over again.

“Oh trust me, sweetheart, I’m fucking real,”

“You can’t be,”

She kept telling herself that he couldn’t be real; but deep down she didn’t know what she’d do if he was real.

They didn’t have a horrible break up or anything like that, quite often Y/n wished they had broken up over something awful, that way maybe she wouldn’t still love him.

No, their breakup was the cliche of the right person, wrong time.

“Turn around,” he demanded softly; so she did, if only to prove to herself that he was just a figment of her imagination.

And there he was. Standing there in his same old classic look, a white shirt covered by a leather jacket, black jeans and black boots. He looked like he hadn’t aged at all since the last time she’d seen him; though the black circles under his eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them. A clear sign that he wasn’t sleeping properly.

The same look he practically always wore.

“C’mere,” he whispered, and it was like her body had a mind of its own because before she could even stop herself , she was wrapped up in his embrace.

One arm wrapped around her waist whilst the other was soothingly stroking the top of her head.

It felt like no time had passed even though five years had flown by since we last saw each other.

And still after all that time he felt like home.

She didn’t know how long she stayed like that with him but it was certainly longer than she should have.

“See, told you I was real,” he chuckled lightly, as he pulled her closer.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n mumbled against his chest, taking in the moment…taking in him, like he was going to vanish at any given moment.

“Kass called me,” he replied; making Y/n look up at him with a questionable look.

“She wants me to talk you out of getting married,”

Y/n knew Kass wasn’t happy about you getting married to Y/f/n; mainly because she could see that Y/n wasn’t truly happy with him. She wasn’t truly in love with him.

Kass had been trying to talk her out of this wedding for months; but Y/n just simply brushed off her comments.

“But I’m not gonna do that, sweetheart,” Negan stated, the words practically burning in his throat. He pulled back from Y/n slightly so his hand could move from the back of her head to her face, allowing him to caress her cheek as Y/n's eyes grew in confusion.

If he wasn’t going to do that then why was he here?

“You don’t need me to tell you this is a shit show of a wedding, by the look on your face you already know that,” he continued, making sure to hold her eye contact.

Negan didn’t want Y/f/n and Y/n to get married; why would he?

He still loved Y/n. He never stopped.

But this wasn’t his decision to make, it was Y/ns, it was always Y/ns.

“But I am gonna give you this,” as he said that he pulled away from her a little bit more before pulling out a key from his back pocket with a little post it note attached to it; and placing it carefully in her hand, “It’s a key to a hotel outta town, that’s the address for it.”

Y/n felt her heart stop as she glanced down at the key before looking back up at Negan.

“It’s for if you decide to leave,” he continued, with a softness in his eyes.

“Negan-”

“I won’t be there, not unless you want me to be,” as the words left his lips a cocky smirk tugged at the side of his mouth as he squeezed Y/n's hand.

She should’ve given him back the key; and told him that she was happy.

But that was a lie. But even though it was a lie she didn’t want to let anyone down or hurt Y/f/n because he didn’t deserve to be hurt.

Before she could say or do anything he pressed a delicate kiss to the side of her head before disappearing behind the door he’d entered from.

Leaving Y/n, alone, left with some difficult decisions.

Did she stay and marry Y/f/n or become a runaway bride?

And if she did run away from this marriage, what did that mean for her and Negan?

Years ago he was the right person at the wrong time; what if now he was the right person at the right time….

Taglist :

@little-diable @xacatalepsyx @bookworm1767 @backstagewiththemadness @thaliastregona @munsinner @impala1967dwinchester @mrsnegan @jdmsgal @howlingmadlady @https-lorna @nt-multi-fandom @wheelerdixon @dilfsandtherapy @bcarolina @bestbitchsstuff

[ur-girl0]

he’s such a cutie omg

[urcrookedneighbor]

(re)announcing my ongoing beef with Supernatural fans in 2007 whose "negative responses" wikipedia credits for Bela Talbot's one season wonder status

[sviorsarch]

what  other  twd  canon  characters  should  i  add,    or  consider    .  .  .      what  spn  characters  should  i  give  a  specific  saviors  verse  to?

[ghostboneswrites2]

Virgin

Summary: Reader is a virgin. Daryl might as well be.

Alexandria // pre-Negan era ; established but unlabeled relationship

Super mild corruption kink vibes (if you squint) on both sides. Reader is a nervous wreck, Daryl is kinda clueless but charming, skilled, and smooth as ever.

This is long and I'm not sorry about it.

18+ MDNI || Warnings: slight age gap, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p-in-v, generally embarrassingly graphic and descriptive smut, drinking (not drunk sex), loss of virginity, profanity

        Your hands shook as you filled two glasses with whiskey. Daryl would be over any minute. You had this date planned all week. Daryl was typically pretty busy with his bike or recruiting with Aaron, but he always made time for you when he could. Neither of you ever put a label to it -- boyfriend, girlfriend, partners, lovers -- it was all the same and those words never uttered from either of your lips. It just was what it was, and it made you both happy, whatever that meant. You did, however, often wonder what you really were to him. You liked to think he'd always choose you, but how could you know? You never would, not until it came down to an issue where you were a choice over something else. 

        You replayed your conversation with Rosita in your head all day, pacing nervously in your shared home with Rosita and Tara as you tried to rationalize how you would move forward with this newfound information.

        "So, spill! How is it with Daryl?" Rosita asked curiously, drawing out Daryl's name with a sultry, mocking tone.

        "Oh, things are good! He's coming over tonight, actually." You smiled softly to yourself.

        "No, dummy!" She giggled, slapping your arm playfully. "I mean in bed! Is he rough? Tender? Does he have any weird fetishes? Is he a boob guy or an ass guy? I peg him for an ass guy but I could be wrong."

        "Uh -- What?" You were stunned? In bed? You really never thought about that.

        "Come on, don't be greedy! Share the details!" Rosita practically begged.

        "Details.. Right. Well, there aren't any, really." You said slowly.

        "What?" She gasped. "Don't tell me he's the vanilla missionary type."

        "Vanilla what? No, I just mean we haven't really.."

        "You haven't had sex?!" She gawked at you. "(Y/N), stop right now."

        "Is that a bad thing?"

        "Men have needs, (Y/N). And so do we! It's the end of the world!" She shook your shoulders. "You gotta get your rocks off!"

        Rocks off? What did that even mean? You weren't really that much younger than him. You were twenty when the dead began to roam the earth. But, you were a virgin then, and you were still one now. You never liked anyone enough to get so vulnerable with them. You heard the rumors at school when girls would give it up 'too easily,' or when the guys at your jobs would be snickering about a girl they slept with. What her boobs were like, how she sounded, all the flaws they found with her body. You just thought it would be so foolish to put yourself out there like that, to be one of those girls they were talking about. How could you ever trust someone enough to see and feel every part of you after all of that?

        It wasn't that you didn't get turned on. You did, as much as anyone else. You  just took care of yourself. Plus, it wasn't like the apocalypse provided many opportunities for your first time.. Or did it? Had you been missing signals? Passing by your chances to get naked with someone? Did he even want that? How would you approach it?

        A knock at the door yanked you out of your thoughts. Oh god, was he there already? Was it time to get your rocks off?

        "Hey!" You grinned anxiously at Daryl as you swung the door open. He noticed your nerves right away. He raised an eyebrow.

        "Hey." He greeted. "Y'alright?"

        "Huh? Oh! Yeah." You waved him off. 

        "Well, uh, can I come in?" He asked. You realized you were standing there, blocking his entry, which you never did. You always threw the door open and walked away, allowing him to enter on his own accord and make himself comfortable. You internally facepalmed. 

        "Oh, duh." You chuckled as you stepped aside and shut the door behind him. "I poured us some drinks."

        "Cool." He nodded, stepping over to the table where two equally filled glasses stood waiting. He grabbed one and took a sip.

        You glanced him over. Clean clothes, no sweaty smell; he bathed for you. His eyes scanned you just as quick. He was a little surprised at your dress. It wasn't extravagant, just a floral sundress that fit you in all the right places,but you never wore dresses unless Rosita and Tara forced you for an event. You were more of a jeans and a tee kind of gal.

        "Pretty dress." He complimented.

        "Thanks." You blushed, smoothing your hands over it.

        "Rosita make ya wear that for me?" He wondered as he took another sip.

        "Oh! No. I just-- Uh.." You stuttered. God, why were you so nervous? He had to know something was up. You never struggled to talk to him. He was you dearest companion.

        "Just wanted to look pretty for me." He concluded with a smirk. Your face felt like it was melting right off the bone.

        You chuckled nervously and grabbed your own glass, taking a gulp, hoping to calm your nerves.

        "Sure you're alright?" He asked again.

        "Mm-hm!" You hummed with an eager nod. "I'm fine!"

        He shook his head and swirled the liquid around in his glass. 

        "You, uh.. Find us a movie for tonight?" 

        "A movie..? Oh! Right! Yes." You hurried over to the coffee table where a copy of School of Rock sat idly. "Do you like Jack Black?"

        "Mm-mm." He shrugged. "Think I've seen his stuff before."

        "Oh! He's funny. My brother used to watch all of his movies. Did you know he had a band?" You rambled.

        "Nah." He shook his head. "Didn't know."

        "It started with a T I think. I can't remember what they were called." You went on as you bent over to set the disc in the tray and get the movie ready. When you turned around you nearly dropped your glass. He was standing right behind you. "Oh.." You breathed. "You scared me."

        She studied your every feature, trying to figure you out. You were never a mystery to him. He liked that. You never seemed to be keeping anything from him, never had an ulterior motive. You were always a raw person. He never had to try and decipher you like he felt he had to with most girls he liked in the past.

        "Why you actin' weird?" He asked in a low husk.

        "Weird?" You squeaked. "I'm not--"

        "Ya are." He argued. "Real weird. And you never wear dresses."

        "I do wear dresses sometimes--"

        "Only when someone makes ya.You don't ever gotta dress up for me. Ya know that." 

        "W-- I know, I just.."

        "Then why?" He catechized you mercilessly. Your knees felt weak under the weight of this burden of nerves and unsureness.

        "I just..." You were at a loss. How could you play this off? You decided to try your best with whatever your brain could muster for an excuse. You straightened up and crossed your arms. "I just thought it'd be nice to look good for you, Daryl Dixon. Is that a problem?"

        He smirked a little, finding amusement in your sad excuse for confidence. He shook his head. "Nah, no problem at all."

        "Good. Now, excuse me so I can get out movie started."

----

        About a half hour into the movie and you were still imploding. Was it time to make the move? How could you do that when you couldn't even bare to look at him? Hell, you two had never even kissed. You just... Watched movies, sat close enough to be touching, snuck off on forest strolls, you know, normal things. Or was that not normal? Were you supposed to have initiated something more by now?

        He had been sneaking little glances at you the whole time, registering your faint expressions of worry. What was on your mind that had you so riled up? Had he done something? He doubted it. So what was it?

        His arm that was outstretched on the back of the couch behind you twitched a little. He moved to play with your hair but you stood up abruptly. "I gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back." 

        You sped off to the upstairs bathroom and looked in the mirror. Your internal battles were written all over your face. He had to know something was up. Actually, you knew he did, because he asked you what was wrong like three times before the movie began. Shit, what now?

        You took a breath and splashed some cold water over your face in efforts to ground yourself, patting it dry with a hand towel. Okay, (Y/N). It's time. Get over your fears and just make the move. As soon as you figure out what the move is, anyways.

        Maybe you could just kiss him and he'd initiate the rest. That's how it works in the movies sometimes, right? Right. Exactly. You got this. Just go down there, and kiss him. No questions asked.

        So, you marched down the stairs, strode to the couch, and froze, staring down at him with wide eyes as he sat there with a questioning gaze. Shit, what were you doing again?

        "Everything alright?" He finally broke the silence that was somehow louder than the audio from the movie.

        "What?" You asked, stunned, forgetting you had just stomped all the way down stairs and right over to him and then froze, blocking his view of the movie. "Oh, uh--"

        He stood up just then, piercing blue eyes beaming into you.

        "Y'gon' tell me what the hell's got your panties all in a wad or what?" He asked impatiently. "You're freakin' me out."

        "I am?" You mumbled. "I just.."

        Oh, screw it. You're backed into a corner, now. You only have one option. As quick as you could, you tippy-toed up and pecked him on the lips. You face turned red immediately. A small, amused smile crept up at the corners of his lips.

        "All that just to kiss me?" He chuckled. "Didn't have to dress up for that."

        "What? Uh -- Oh. Well, I.." You stumbled and tripped over your thoughts. It wasn't just to kiss him, and his reaction was not what you anticipated. Where was the movie moment? The fireworks and explosions? Wasn't he supposed to grab you by the cheeks and kiss you passionately and carry you to bed? What the hell?

        "Ya what? Were ya that nervous? Thought I'd bite or somethin'?" He joked.

        Bite? Is that a sex thing?

        It was all too much. You were in way over your head. You had no idea how this was supposed to work. You felt nauseous, your face was numb, and suddenly you felt it rising from your gut to your throat. Was it vomit? Yes, but not the material kind.

`        "Rosita said we should have sex!"You blurted, eyes wide like saucers as you slapped your hand over your mouth to keep anything else from escaping.

        Word vomit.

        Daryl was stunned completely. It took him a minute to process what you had said. He blinked.

        "Rosita said what?" He shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. "Don't listen to that. Don't gotta do that  just 'cause she said. We can do that when ya want to, not when someone tells ya."

        He turned around and took his empty glass back to the kitchen, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. It was admittedly adorable that the thought of going to bed with him would mess you up so bad all night. 

        You were still frozen solid with your hand over your mouth as he grabbed the bottle of whisky. You dropped your hand to your side and looked around for your glass. You picked it up off the coffee table and gulped down the last half of it. Just as he was starting to pour is second serving, you spoke up.

        "I do want to."

        He paused, peering up at you through his eyelashes without actually moving his head up to show you his face. He set the bottle down and thought for a moment.

        "Uh, sex -- I mean." You clarified. Again, he tried not to laugh. There was no need for clarification. His deductive reasoning was very much adequate to handle such a statement.

        He shook his head and poured his glass before he walked back over to you.

        "Do ya now?" He asked quietly, eyeing you intensely as he took a swig. You swallowed a lump in your throat. Why did you feel so dry all of a sudden? He seemed to read your mind as he offered you a sip from his glass, which you gladly took.

        "I do." You said unsteadily, failing to feign confidence.

        "Ya sure?"

        "Why wouldn't I be?" You raised a brow, crossing your arms. He took the glass out of your hand and set it on the coffee table.

        "Ya been drinkin'."

        "I'm not drunk."

        "But it wasn't your idea to begin with." He pointed out. "Le'me ask ya.. If Rosita never said nothin', would ya even be considerin' this right now?"

        You didn't respond. He had a point.

        "Exactly." He confirmed, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "We don't gotta rush into nothin' like that."

        "I've thought about it." You blurted. Blurting was quickly becoming a habit of yours, you were learning. You gulped.

        "Have ya now?" He smirked. He knew that already. Of course you did, just like he had plenty of times. You were both adults with desires. He wasn't blind to that.

        "Uh-huh." You nodded slowly. "Every time I--"

        Your hand slapped over your mouth again. What were you doing? Were you really about to admit that you fantasized about him every time you touched yourself?

        "Every time ya what?" He raised his eyebrows tauntingly. "Played with yourself? That's okay." He shrugged. "Everybody does that and if they say they don't, they're lyin'. What're you supposed to think about? Ya supposed to count the cracks in the ceilin' or somethin?"

        While he enjoyed the way you squirmed under the pressure of this conversation, he still wanted to make light of it. He joked to make it easier for you.

        "Do you think about it?" You asked quietly. His face lit up a little. It was much more amusing when the spotlight was on you. 

        "I mean," he shrugged. "What else would I think about?"

        You blushed. He thinks about you when he touches himself too?

        "I dunno.." You shrugged sheepishly. "I just..." You realized how foolish and childlike you must have looked to him right there. You straightened up and held your head high. "Well, I want to."

        "I don't think ya mean that."

        "I do." You insisted.

        He looked you over. He definitely wasn't opposed to the idea, but he was nervous. He had no idea what kind of experience a pretty girl like you would have over his drunken one nighters and failed attempts at relationships in the past. You never told him you were a virgin. After all, it never came up.

        "Okay." He nodded. "Wha'd'ya wanna do, then?"

        You faltered. What?

        "What?"

        "Wha'd'ya wanna do?" He asked again. 

        "Uh..." You glanced around the room. What did he mean? How many ways were there to... What? "I wanna... have.. sex?" You said, more as a question than a definitive. 

        "Uh-huh. But there's lots o' ways to have sex." 

        He plopped back down on the couch, glancing at the movie credits rolling behind you. He had a feeling you'd back out when you realized that you were in over your head.

        "Um, I want to..." You waded through the marshy wetland of thoughts and memories inside your head, trying to recall every piece of erotic information you had ever known. What was it Rosita had said? "Vanilla missionary?"

        He stifled a laugh. "Oh yeah? That's all?"

        Well, shit, man. What the hell else did he want from you?"

        "And..." You trailed off. 

        "Y'ain't ready for all that yet." He spoke up for you.

        "I am too!" 

        "No, y'ain't." He shook his head, still clearly amused.

        "I am! I just.... I need you to teach me." You said.

        "Teach ya what?"

        "I'm... I'm a virgin." You said just above a whisper. Wow, that was embarrassing to say out loud. He nearly choked. He was not expecting that. At least it meant you wouldn't have high expectations that he couldn't meet or something.

        "Really?" 

        "Yeah." You nodded. "But, I'm an adult and I know what I want. So, show me." You demanded.

----

        After a long battle to get him there, you finally had him in  your room. Both of you just standing there awkwardly in the dim light of a small lamp beside your bed.

        "So." You began.

        "Mm." He hummed, stepping closer to you, running a finger over your shoulder to brush  the hair off of it.

        "Do you... Wanna kiss me?" You asked. A small smile just barely spread on his lips. Of course he did. He just hoped he could make it as tender and special as you deserved.

        He leaned in slowly and brushed his lips against yours, hovering there for a moment before he connected with them fully. Slow, sweet rhythm was what he aimed for. He wasn't sure how he was doing, but when he went to pull back and you followed him like a magnet, he figured he was doing okay.

        He kissed you a little longer, hands resting gently on your sides to keep you steady as you swooned for him. If he hadn't been so sure he had to be the lead in this whole scenario, he would have melted into a puddle. Your lips were so soft, and you were just so damn sweet. He loved how eager you were for him. He just couldn't imagine taking advantage of you, which was why he made you walk in a straight line before he brought you up to your room. Just in case you had more to drink than he thought.

        When he pulled away for real this time, you were desperate for more.

        "Why'd you stop?" You pouted under your breath. He let out a soft chuckle.

        "All in time, darlin'." He said as he guided you back to the bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress and you sat down.

        "Now what?" You asked. He considered your question.

        "Lay down." He instructed softly.  You did. 

        He crawled over you. Your heart began to pound. Was this it?

        He leaned down into your neck and started planting small kisses along the length of it. You gasped quietly. It tickled in the best way. Your hands naturally gravitated to his chest, resting them against him. He trailed his lips down to your collarbone as his finger slid the spaghetti strap of your dress down over your shoulder to keep it out of the way. His kisses lined over your collarbone and all over your chest, at least the upper half. You laid your hands on his shoulders.

        He hadn't even touched you anywhere significant but your panties were absolutely soaked. Your eyelids fluttered a little. Why did this feel so good already?

        He went to tug your dress down to expose your breasts but he paused. He looked up at you. "This okay?" He whispered as his finger hooked the dress. You nodded. He slid it down and took a moment to admire the sight beneath him. You were braless. Your nipples hardened with the cold air. Goosebumps peppered over your supple flesh.

        He leaned down and went back to kissing softly around the mounds of breast, one hand gripping gently as he wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked. You gasped audibly at the sensation, reminding him that he was doing things right. Your hips twitched as the sensitive nerves shot tingles all the way down to your your pussy. Your walls twitched.

        He worked his way to the other nipple, earning the same reaction. He bravely nibbled ever so gently on the second one, pulling the tiniest whine right out of your throat. He smirked a little. So reactive, you were. He almost felt guilty, like he was taking some kind of innocence away from you. Something you could never get back, not that you'd want to.

        His hands slid up your outer thighs. He looked at you again for permission. You nodded. He slid the dress up over your hips and started kissing and nibbling your inner thighs. You twitched and exhaled at the more sensitive spots, and when he got as close as he could to your panties without actually touching them, he pulled back and looked up at you. You were flushed and eager, and it was killing him inside. He smirked again and placed a quick little kiss over your panties, right where he guessed your clit would be. You gasped and jerked at the sudden pressure. He hooked his finger under the waistline of your jeans, again, glancing up at you for permission. You didn't nod this time.

        "Please.." You whispered. 

        He was on top of the world. Hell, he owned the universe. You were begging him for something he had dreamt of giving you.

        He slid your panties down your thighs and over your feet, tossing them to the side somewhere. He stared down at your glistening slit. You were already dripping.

        He traced a single finger over the front of your pelvis, feeling the smooth, freshly shaved skin beneath his callous.

        "Ya didn't have to shave for me." He whispered. You blushed.

        "I just--"

        "Shh. It's okay." He cooed, gently running that same finger down your slit with painful gentleness. Your mouth gaped immediately, eyebrows pressed together. You had touched yourself plenty, but it felt so different when he did it. So new. "All this for me?" He teased, holding up his finger coated in your wetness. You blushed again. He raised his finger to his mouth and sucked it clean. You watched, helplessly infatuated with the dreamy sight below. Dreamy. Were you dreaming?

        He lowered his face down, kissing softly over your lips before he finally swiped his tongue through your slit. You jerked and gasped, as you did for the next few seconds as he started to acclimate you to the sensation of his tongue.

        "Relax." She whispered. You gasped again when his tongue glided flatly over your cunt, but you let out a shaky exhale and did as he said. You relaxed. When he felt you melt down into the bed, that was when he really got to work, flicking his tongue over and around your clit until he found a rhythm that you responded to. Your breaths and inhales slowly blended into a pattern of moans and tiny whines. He had you now, exactly how he needed you. Comfortable in bliss.

        He slowed his pace then sped it up a few times, memorizing every reaction your body had to offer. When he stopped licking and started sucking on your clit, he slid a single finger inside you. If you were a virgin he was gonna have to loosen you up and get you ready. He wasn't one to gloat, but he was probably thicker than most, so he knew you'd need as much help as you could get.

        You let out a moan as his digit slid inside you. That paired with the ache in your clit as he sucked at it was giving you visions of stars.

        He got back to licking in little circles over your clit, slow at first, but then he sped up. He slipped another finger in, massaging your insides as your legs began to shake around his shoulders. 

        "Oh god."  You breathed. You felt a buzz in your lower half, a warm feeling building in your lower abdomen. You were getting close, and he could tell. He wanted to make you wait. He wanted you to be as eager for his cock as you were for his mouth. However, he wasn't entirely sure he'd last that long. You were so tight around his fingers, convulsing and pulsating, and he hadn't felt the inside of a woman in a long time.

        So, he took you all the way. He kept his pace with his tongue and fingers as he built you up, brick by brick, until you crumbled. It didn't take long at all. You shuddered and let out a loud moan, hips rocking against his face as you trembled and whined and rode out your orgasm. 

        It was more than you could have ever anticipated. Your fingers were nothing compared to what he had just done to you. You didn't think you'd ever recover.

        He slowed down, just barely gliding his tongue over your clit and twitching his fingers inside you to ensure you rode out the full length of your high, only pulling away and slipping out when he was sure you were overstimulated enough.

        Your chest was rising and dropping as you stared down at him and his wet mess of a chin. Your lids were heavy. He climbed back up to your face and planted a kiss on your forehead before he stood up off the bed and began to strip.

        Oh, right, the sex part. You had forgotten entirely. Your eyes fixated on the bulge under his boxers. They grew wide when he slid those off, too, and the sight of his bare cock hit you. It was long and thick, and you had no idea how you were going to take all that. He didn't expect you to, though. He'd try of course, but he'd be carefully monitoring for any signs of pain.

        When he climbed back on top of you, you stared up at him nervously. He leaned down and left little kisses along your jaw before finally resting his lips on yours. You ran your fingers through his hair as you kissed him back.

        "Ya still want this?" He mumbled against you.

        "Yes." You whispered. 

        He took your approval and looked down and guided his tip to your entrance. You bit your lip with anticipation when you felt the hard pressure of his head against you. He looked at you. You nodded. With that final gesture, he pushed the tip in. Your face contorted. He watched you as he pushed in a little more, and a little more, stopping when you whimpered.

        "Y'alright?"

        "Uh-huh." You squeaked.

        "Y'sure?"

        "Yeah. Keep going. I want you to." You insisted. Well, if you insisted.

        He pushed in further, achingly slow until he bottomed out. When the base of his shaft connected with your pelvis, your eyes widened. You let out a deep moan. Your own fingers could neve stretch you that way, could never reach that far inside you. It was an entirely new feeling. You couldn't tell how you liked it just yet.

        When you didn't protest, he pulled out and pumped back in, slowly at first, soft strokes, until your body relaxed and you were visibly acclimated. 

        When he was confident you could take it, that was when he sped up, fucking you harder and  faster by the minute. Your body tensed up around him. He could feel your walls clench and pulsate around his cock. He was starting to think you might cum again.

        He leaned into your ear.

        "Can ya cum again for me?"

        Your eyes glazed over, lids falling lazily over the majority of your vision. Between your moans and whimpering you managed to choke out the words; "I-- I think so.."

        "Mm." He growled lowly. You gripped his arms tightly, tuning out every thought as you pictured his cock pumping in and out of you, hitting that sensitive spot inside you that you had no idea existed until that moment. A familiar warmth washed over you. Tension in your stomach built and built, until finally.

        "Yes!" You gasped, as if answering his question again.

        "C'mon, girl.." He panted. He was also terrifyingly close, teetering on the edge. He only held back in hopes he'd squeeze another orgasm out of you first.

        A high pitched whine escaped you as your body buzzed, shivers crawling over you as you came. If your sounds weren't enough, he could feel the pulsation around his cock and he knew he was almost in the clear. He clenched his jaw, trying as hard as he could to hold it back while he fucked you through your climax. Eventually he just couldn't take it anymore. 

        He pulled out as fast as he could, groaning as he stroked and milked hot cum out onto your stomach. You were breathless and sex drunk as you laid limp on the bed, watching him. When he caught his breath, he leaned down and grabbed your panties. He used them to wipe you clean of your own juices and his, before doing the same for himself.

        "Ya gon' make it?" He teased you in your incapacitated state.

        "Yep." You said lazily. "'Cause I'm gonna need  more."

        He chuckled. "I need time to--"

        "I meant tomorrow. And the next day, and the next day." 

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[pirateprincessblog]

2 batteries away

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: if he can choose to spend time with someone else rather than you, daryl would do it. not because he hates you. he simply doesn't have any type of connection with you. and you are so young. but when rick demands that you join him on a scavenge hunt, he doesn't have much of a saying into it, and chooses to act unbothered. he also chooses to ignore the way you tease him the whole trip, your hips swaying just a bit more when walking than usual. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: daryl dixon x female reader 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: alexandria, pre-negan 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: big age gap, reader is half daryl's age 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, masturbation, breath-play, subtle ddlg, toys, subtle dacryphilia

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i am on season ten of twd (my first time watching) and it feels like this man's clothes keep getting tighter and tighter each episode and i am so here for it. also the way his arms magically always glisten in the sun as he subtly flexes when the camera is on him? give me a break I BEG

Also I miss Rick very much 🥺

*

"i have a special request. if i'm allowed to do that." a playful voice calls behind you.

you turn around, squinting. the sun is high up in the sky, and right in your eyes. you make out carol's short hair, and nod at her as a sign to keep speaking.

"i'm gonna need something i can make cookies or cakes with. hazelnut, chocolate, almonds,... you know. cake stuff." the woman smiles.

"i'm going out for ibuprofen and possibly viagra, not chocolate."

"viagra? for who?"

you chuckle under the cap rosita has given you, and try to subtly glance over at the man loading the car with weapons. he grunts, glaring at you and instantly shutting down the bullying party you wanted to start.

"i don't need no damn viagra." he slams the trunk door shut, and walks past you, intentionally pushing his shoulder into yours.

you fall a step back, holding in a laugh. carol has her hands on her hips, but her laugh isn't hidden. she knows daryl can't say anything to her.

"oh, come on. i know that you like to stay quiet and mysterious, but a little joking in hard times never hurt anybody." the woman defends you, scrunching her eyebrows at daryl.

"it's hurting me." he yells from the car, slamming the door shut.

"how am i supposed to survive this trip with him, ricky?" you complain, shoulders hanging with rising irritation with the situation.

"you survived a walker flooded prison with nothing but an axe before you found us on the other side, and you're telling me you can't survive a grumpy old man for a few hours?"

"thing is, i killed walkers. i cannot kill him. boo-hoo, the precious tracker. i also, when i see a footprint on the floor facing a certain way, know that someone is headed there. wild, right?"

rick pats your head, messing up the cap in the process just to tease you.

"bring me some shirts on the way back, i'm getting sick of these flannels. and get yourself something nice."

one would think that he gave you his credit card to buy him those shirts at the nearby mall. telling you to get yourself something nice, that idiot. the less fun truth is that you are headed towards a landfill two hours away from alexandria, in hopes of finding anything. glenn and morgan haven't had any luck for a few days now, so rick decided to change the route and the team. daryl and you, apparently, make a great one. that pain in the ass of a man.

"i'm leavin'. you stay and talk 'bout me all you wan'. i'm the one actually doin' something for this place."

"stuck up much? see," you open the car door, sitting inside annoyed, "with the viagra, you'd be a much more pleasant person to be around."

"enough with the damn viagra. fuck's the matter with you?"

"god, just start driving and drop me off somewhere in the middle of the road and i'll find my own shit from a different place. rick doesn't need to know."

"no," he simply responds, not sparing you a glance.

rick waves at you with a smile on his face, knowing damn well what he did putting the two of you together for such a long quest. he's so going to hear from you tonight. if you make it out alive while trying to kill daryl.

"so, what are you hoping to find? booze, peanut butter, new clothes? i'm starting to think you stapled those clothes to your body."

he says nothing, eyes focused on the road. you sigh. maybe you're the problem. you're poking him too much, knowing he has zero patience and doesn't very much like your company. you decide to keep quiet for the rest of the drive, only occasionally glancing over at him out of boredom.

you can't lie, he is an attractive man. you don't know why you're mean to him. he is gorgeous to you, your taste in older rugged men not failing you. you're surprised rick isn't the one you fell for. but next to daryl, he looks too... neat. daryl is just perfect. most of the time his deep raspy voice has you subconsciously rubbing and squeezing your thighs, led by a tingling sensation in your lower stomach. his clothes have recently gotten very tight on him, the buttons of his black shirt threatening to pop and give you a view of your lifetime. he has been working out a lot, you've seen him. fuck, not only have you seen him, you also stayed there, secretly snapping pictures with your polaroid your father had left you before disaster struck. you only had a few films left, yet no self control. something about seeing daryl all sweaty as he did push ups, grunting and almost moaning, thinking that nobody can see him, did things to you.

"wha'?" he asks, sensing your intense gaze.

you turn your head away, flushed. "nothin'."

"mmh."

he keeps it short and stern, and if your panties weren't drenched as your brain replayed the memory of his glistening arm muscles, you'd probably make a sassy remark. he raises an eyebrow, probably also wondering why you aren't being mean for so long now.

"shoes." he says after some time.

"what?" you ask, absent-mindedly staring into the tall trees and the walkers hidden among them.

"i'm hoping to find some shoes. it's gettin' hard to walk in these. i also hope i find sum more arrows."

you nod, surprised that he has actually graced you with an answer. you thought he'd say something like cigarettes or alcohol. you hated people who smoke. but daryl is an exception. he looks damn hot doing it.

"you?" he asks.

"well, new underwear would be nice. i ripped all my good panties, and let me tell you, these thongs are not apocalypse friendly."

"shit, girl, oversharing much?"

"what, you disgusted by female underwear?" you poke back, playfully.

"not female underwear. your underwear."

you're offended. you squint at him, and have to fight the urge to smack the back of his head.

"for your information, you don't look or smell all flowery and fresh yourself. i could use your hair to grease up carol's tray for her cakes. and your fingernails? they have their own ecosystem at this point."

and back to the bickering it is. he grunts again, furrowing his eyebrows. he secretly glances at his fingernails. indeed, they had a layer of dirt under them, but daryl thinks that he has bigger issues than some dirt that will get washed off anyway.

"oh, i also wish to find-"

"yeah, lost interest." the man interrupts. "also, for future conversations, you do not mention your... thongs... to people that are ol' enough to be your father."

ew.

ew.

ew.

he did not.

"what, is that how you see me? you could be my father?"

how utterly disappointing. there you were, sitting next to him, imagining him going feral between your legs, all while he is viewing you as his child. there goes your masturbating material for tonight.

"well the age fits the description."

"fuck you. seriously." you sigh, turning your body towards the window so you can fully ignore him.

arriving at the gates, you immediately notice a few things that you will be taking home. how foolish of you to not take a truck instead of the crusty old car.

"watch it." just as he says it, an arrow passes by your head, followed with a loud thud.

you don't have to look back to know that a walker had managed to sneak behind you, while you were foolish enough to stay swooning over his arms glistening in the sun with sweat.

"damn it, girl, i don' know what it is with you, but you gotta snap outta it. i can't keep saving ya ass."

"yes, dad." you reply, annoyed.

"hey." he calls, hand reaching to cup your jaw and turn your head towards him. "shut it before i make ya."

if it weren't for the feeling of his rough hand on your face and his raspy voice sending you a warning turning you on, you would've slapped him and told him not to touch you. but oh, you were going crazy inside. you found a new way to push his buttons, and you're going to have so much fun with it.

you walk behind him into the landfill, the smell of junk pinching your nose. daryl is also bothered by it, seeing his scrunched expression as he scanned the first piles of garbage.

"there." he points his crossbow a certain way.

you follow the invisible line, your eyes landing on what seemed to be several taped boxes. they could have three things inside: food, weapons, or traps. weird how nobody has discovered this place yet. or maybe they have, and they took all valuables already.

daryl doesn't wait for you. he makes his way towards the boxes, keeping his crossbow ready if something goes wrong. you, on the other hand, have tucked your knife safely and are walking around like there isn't walkers scratching at the fence, waiting to sink their teeth into your skull.

"dammit."

you hear rattling. you turn around, only to find the man kicking the boxes angrily. the can he has just thrown on the floor rolls up to your feet, and you crouch down to examine it. it is food, but expired. eating it would be like playing russian roulette.

"i mean, we can still... ya'know, take it with us. what happens happens."

"dixon, if i'm gonna die, i'm gonna die from a bullet or a bite. not from a rotten macaroni."

he raises an eyebrow at you, amused with your laid back attitude. he doesn't give you much attention, just silently walks next to you while scanning his side of the landfill.

"ah, sweet!" you cheer, running towards a pile.

"wha'?"

you almost trip over the broken wooden chairs, trying to get to a certain little box in the pile.

"the hell are ya doin'? we're losin' time!"

your eyes instinctively roll at his voice. you know he has nothing smart to say. finally reaching the box, you jump back on the floor, eagerly opening it. seeing that the item still has the foil sealed on it, you victoriously raise it in the air, cheering.

"you have made it a goal for yourself to die today, didn't ya?"

"nah, not anymore. i found something that will keep me occupied and will fuel my will to live a little longer."

you continue your way forward, leaving daryl to stare at the box you have discarded, trying to figure out what it is. but he has decided he has no time for your immaturity. he needs to ask rick to not ever put him with you on a hunt again. he's lost a lot of time already, and hasn't found a single thing to bring back.

"clothes." you point, the pile of fabric sitting on top of a garbage hill.

"you gonna go get 'em?"

"why would i go? you go."

"you wanted your... thongs... so, you go get that."

you scoff, setting the newly acquired item on the ground and slowly climbing up the hill.

"what is this, anyway?" his curiosity wins.

you sit on top of the pile, examining the clothes and discarding the ones with holes in them.your eyes dart to the man below you, and you chuckle when you see him crouch and take the item in his hand.

"it's a wand."

"wand?"

"yes."

"for?" he keeps pressing, his eyes never leaving the pink gadget.

"masturbating."

thud.

you look down, mortified. he better not break it.

"careful with that, what's the matter with you?!"

"you're fuckin' crazy, girl."

you silently mock him, sticking your tongue out at him and repeating his words with exaggerated face expressions. he really gets on your nerves. you gather the clothes you have found into a bed sheet, tying it up and putting it over your shoulder, then pick up the gadget from the floor. it seems alive, it didn't break. you only hope it works. you're young, inexperienced, surrounded by people that are either too young or too old for you. though, the old part never was a problem for you, it was for them.

feeling bored, you decide to keep poking him. he is just so grumpy, and silent. and inviting to irritate.

"so, dixon, you've never heard about one of these?" you wave the gadget in front of his face.

he spares you a glare, and continues walking.

"come on, we're talking. nobody's around. tell me, since all of this started, how many times have you even approached a girl? do you even mastu-"

"'m not in the mood to be picked on right now."

"i'm not picking on you. i promise. just trying to converse."

"you want to be useful? hold this. it's in my way." he throws his vest at you, now only wearing a tight black t-shirt.

you scowl at him, shoving his vest into your backpack.

"you're so fun to be around. i get why rick put us together."

he grunts, leaving you behind. rolling your eyes, you go down a different path, hoping to find something useful to all of alexandria and not just you. turning a few lefts, you find yourself standing in front of a little shed like structure. you bang on the door with your foot, and when hearing no growls, you bravely enter. it is dusty and dark, with a singular armchair and a few cupboards.

you open each one of them, happily shoving all the food you managed to find into your backpack, opening a protein bar along the way and chewing on the oats and dried fruits. you missed having those with yogurt for breakfast.

not only will carol be happy with the amount of nuts and flour you have found, rick will be proud of you. you might even ask for a reward when he sees the amount of canned tuna and jam you have found. you forgot what pancakes taste like.

after clearing the room, you peek out the window. daryl is in the distance, going through piles and kicking stuff out of his way, as if playing. you've collected way more than him, and the sun is at it's highest point. the shaded room seems like a perfect place to take a nap, or just rest your feet and ears from him.

you plop on the armchair like a star washed up on the shore. it feels so lonely lately. rick has michonne, carl has enid, rosita has her boytoys, even gabriel might be having more fun than you. as wrong as it was, you stay up listening to the noises coming across the street. they're loud, there's no way you could ignore them even if you wanted to. even rick had to step in and ask them to be quieter. but what is a problem to someone else is a solution for you. is it wrong to touch yourself while listening to someone else fucking? yes. but is it the only way that works for you? also yes.

you eye up the toy that peeks from the backpack, then glance out the window. daryl is busy with his crossbow, having found something that he could use on it.

fuck it.

you unbuckle your pants, not bothering to take off the panties. your fingers are quick to pop the batteries that come with the package in the gadget, and when the lid clicks, you admire it for a second. there it is, in all its glory. waiting to be abused every day by you, until you find a replacement. hopefully a softer and live one.

taking off the thin protective foil from the head, you position yourself on the armchair. you glance at the window again, carefully monitoring daryl. now, if you thought that eavesdropping and touching yourself was bad, what was this? watching daryl's fingers work on his crossbow, arms glistening in the sun, all while the pink toy softly vibrates on your pulsating clit.

you sigh at the newfound pleasure, rubbing the toy up and down your slit, while your eyes stay focused on the man unaware of your situation. he probably even forgot about you. or is thankful that you have left him alone. even better for you. you get to be a pervert without him ever knowing.

you arch your back, throwing your head on the backrest as you focus on chasing the release. it's been awhile, it won't take you long. your eyes open again, just enough to see if the man is still in his spot. your fingers change the vibration strength on the gadget, and instantly, you gasp. it is so intense, and so much, but you don't want it to stop. this thing is your new best friend, you better get used to it.

something else peeks out of the backpack, the leather catching your attention and giving you an idea. like an animal in heat, you grab the vest, burying your nose into it and spreading your legs further. daryl's scent takes over your senses, making you lose control and become a moaning mess. you are getting wetter by the second, the toy now slipping up and down your slit with ease and giving you maximum pleasure.

"fuck- daryl-" you can't help but gasp, enveloped in his manly scent and fabric.

your hips hopelessly rub against the toy, chasing and chasing after something that isn't quite getting closer, even though it feels like it.

"the hell?"

your eyes widen at the interruption. you drop the vest in your lap, hiding the crime scene from him. the man stands at the door, expression unreadable. yours is one of horrified mixed with desire, the way he stares down at you angrily sending arrows to your core.

"daryl- i- did you, uh, find anything?" you try to play it off, foolishly.

"yeah. i found an animal in heat it seems. couldn't wait for alexandria to do that shit?"

"I-"

"is that my vest?"

he slams the door shut, leaving you two in darkness. you gulp, moving the gadget from your core and letting your panties fall back in place.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" you stutter, failing to put a sentence together while he intensely glares at you.

"ya ain't sorry." he grunts. "ya know why i despise being around your ass? you're inappropriate."

"no, look," you try, but he points a finger at your face, making you close your mouth.

your eyes burn, tears announcing their arrival.

"it's not like that-"

"shut up, dammit! i'm talkin' now! do you have any idea in how many uncomfortable situations you've  put me? all those snarky dirty comments, all that flirting, now this? do you understand what that does to me?!"

he's yelling, frustrated and angry with you. but why are you getting wetter? why can't you think rationally? he is scolding you for being inappropriate, and you continue to be even more inappropriate by sexualising simple yelling. not your fault he looks damn hot while he does it, though.

"you're- you're half my age. i can't allow myself to play your games, no matter how tempting."

what?

"what will alexandria think? they already have no good opinion on me. engaging with someone half my age the way you want me to engage is- it is a horrible idea. i'll be out faster than i was in."

silence swallows the room. you still lay on the armchair, half naked with his vest covering you. he paces around the room, fingers running through his hair as he tries to gather his thoughts. you think whether it's time to finally say something, but you wait another moment. you need to gather your thoughts too.

tempting, he said. so he thought about it too. he saw past your jokes, and has been controlling himself so well. if only you knew what it would take to shatter that control, even for just a moment.

"since when do you care what other people think?" you start.

"since rick chose to trust me."

you hum, understanding.

"listen-"

"so you've been thinking about it." you're the one to interrupt now.

his head snaps up, looking at you with his eyebrow raised, as if asking you where you're going with that statement.

"there's nothing wrong with it. it's not like we're getting married or something."

"i'm older than you. way older than you."

"so?"

"i could be your father."

"if you say that word to me one more time i swear i will turn this landfill upside down to find another sex toy to shove up your asshole."

"why do you get so triggered by it?"

you roll your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. you press your thighs together, missing the warmth and buzzing from earlier. fun killer.

"because."

"why?"

"doesn't matter."

"tell me," he presses further.

you finally look at him, frustrated. "because i have fucking daddy issues and the thought of you being so much older than me turns me on. there."

you get up from the armchair, putting his vest on so that you can cover yourself. it almost reaches your knees, hiding your body from his gaze. he says nothing, and does nothing for a few moments. you have your back turned to him, hands resting on the counter of the half chipped kitchen cabinet. your head hangs low with embarrassment from the confession that just left your mouth.

tears stream down your cheeks, luckily hidden by your hair. but daryl doesn't miss the little sniff that comes your way. he sighs, then paces around the place a little more. when you don't hear him anymore, and finally face the fact that nothing will be the same with him anymore, you dare turn around. you almost gasp when you come face to face with him, his chest pressing against yours.

"wha- what are you-"

"shh..." he hushes you, eyes roaming your face.

you aren't sure what to do, or what he wants to do. if he tries to comfort you by giving you a hug, you will break down. and you will never face him again. you thought it was only sexual, but the way he looks at you and hushes you as you cry is awakening new emotions inside of you. ones that you will push down for now, because it is not the time.

"daryl, i'm sorry." you hiccup, genuinely feeling sorry for ruining whatever you had with him.

you feel his hands on the back of your thighs, and before you can react, he picks you up and places you on the counter. you instinctively spread your legs, letting him in closer.

"don't be. or else i might regret this."

you look at him doe eyed as he places his hand on your neck, gently holding you just beneath your jaw and softly pressing into the sides of it. he brings his head close to you, eyes half closed as he stares at your lips.

"daryl." you whisper, not sure of this anymore.

"just hush."

and with that, he presses his lips into yours, softly moving them with rhythm only known to the two of you. his other hand caresses your thigh, then creeps to your bottom and pulls you to the edge of the counter, enough to have your crotch press against his.

you can taste your tears while you kiss him, and he probably can too. he doesn't say anything, hell, you even feel him twitch between your legs. you grind on him, unable to control yourself. it is different than the wand. it's warm, and it responds back. it's better.

"hey," you call, slowly pulling away. "i don't want you to do this because you feel sorry for me or something like that. are you doing it because of that?"

"nah."

before you can continue bombarding him with questions and overthinking, he places his lips back on yours, this time a little rougher than before. you open your mouth, tongue eager to taste him properly. and fuck, he tastes good. you hated cigarettes and alcohol, but from his mouth, you adore it. you finally give in, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly close. finally.

it doesn't take long for him to have you whining and grinding on him, wanting more than just kissing and thigh grabbing and occasional choking. you beg into his mouth, quietly at first, but with each kiss he gives you, you become louder and more demanding.

"touch me, please, please, please," you're desperate.

he smiles, for the first time in a while, and snakes his hands under your top. you hurriedly take off the vest and the top, to make it easier for him, but he pulls his vest back on your body. you are now wearing nothing but panties and the leather vest, making daryl incredibly impatient.

"ya just needed some attention, didn't ya?" he kisses your neck, his hand cupping your breast and thumb playing with the hard nub. "some sense fucked into ya to shut that mouth."

for someone that almost never talks, he is quite the talker now. and you can't complain, when his words have you clenching around nothing down there.

"needed someone older to take care of ya."

you moan at his words, spreading your legs further and raising your hips into his crotch. his hand reaches down to your panties, landing a light slap on your clothed clit as a warning. there's growling outside of the shed, but not enough to make you care. you'll get what you want, and no amount of walkers will stop you, even if it'll be your last.

daryl moves your panties aside, pulling away from you to see you. he hums, thumb coming to contact with your clit and circling it a few times. you shake under his touch, throwing your head back. it isn't something you haven't done before, but the touch is foreign, and different. his fingers are rough and big, an opposite of the soft flesh of your clit. he rubs your slit up and down, enough to smear your arousal so he can touch you better.

"fuck..." you trail, grabbing the edges of the counter and digging your nails into the hard surface.

"didn't find a boy your age to open you up?"

you shake your head. he hums again, fingers now circling your tight entrance.

"that's a shame, then. i'm gonna have to take my time with you."

"what? why?" you ask, disappointed.

"i'd split you in half, little one."

every word in that sentence sent arrows to your core. fuck, just how big is he?

"then, what are we doing?"

he turns around, leaving you yearning for his touch while he grabs your discarded toy from the armchair.

"you share toys?"

"sometimes."

"good."

he pulls himself out from his pants, and you are left with your jaw dropped. it fuels his confidence, the way you're staring at him as he rubs himself up and down. he isn't big. he's huge.

"daryl, how will that fit in me?" you ask, actually concerned.

"it'll take a little time. i'll train ya, and you'll take it like a good girl, the way i teach ya. but ya have to start listening to me and stop pissing me off."

nodding eagerly, you push your hips towards his hands, searching for his touch again.

he turns the gadget on, pressing it against your clit. you moan out loud, grinding on the buzzing toy and sliding with ease. you hear him grunt, and even a quiet moan. your eyes drop to the situation between your legs, and when you see him pressing his cock to the gadget, you swear you could squirt all over him. he rocks his hips with yours, pushing you up against the wall and grunting in your mouth, just like you moan into his. he doesn't break eye contact with you, instead getting off on it.

"i'm gonna cum, daryl." you whine, hands reaching into his hair to pull.

"give me a second."

you'd give him two if he wanted. you try your hardest to focus on not yet cumming, but the way he sweats and grunts for you doesn't make it easy.

"daryl-" you warn, moans becoming high pitched and inviting the walkers around the shed.

he sticks two fingers in your mouth, keeping you silent and helping himself get closer. you only needed to swirl your tongue around him a few time and take him all the way to his knuckles to have him moaning and cumming all over your stomach, rubbing the toy up and down in a sloppy pace.

you follow, pleasure washing over your body along with a thin layer of sweat, the sight of his seed on you making it more intense. you are dehydrated, hot and filthy. and you love it, because he is the same. you'd be like that every day, if it meant getting him the way you just had him.

"you didn't have to..." you say as he helps you dress up, wiping his seed from you with his bandana and discarding it.

"i wanted to. before, today, too."

"you sure?"

"yes."

you nod. he sees that you are not convinced, and he sighs. he pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"i rarely regret my actions. trust me."

"yeah, well, i hope i'll get more of these actions you speak of."

he chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you know, for someone who just came all over me, it's weird to see you so sentimental and comforting."

you don't even finish the sentence, he already playfully throws the bandana at you, rushing outside to hide his smile and to hide from your attempt at attacking.

"oh, you- you- you asshole!"

"right back at ya."

***

yippie! my first twd oneshot, idk how to feel about it lol. had this in the drafts for a while now. feel free to send feedback, doesn’t matter if it is good or bad 🩷

[thefreakydeaky]

Rewatching season 3 and Lori Grimes is so fucking annoying. If they had made her 5% tougher and more strategic I would not dislike her so much.

tbh I don't like Rick that much either, but he's the main character so despite the fact that I was consistently disappointed in the decisions he made I kept watching, because I needed to know what was going to happen next, especially to Carl, Michonne, Carol, Andrea, Darryl, and Glenn.

[dixons-sunshine]

Just A Bad Dream | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: Despite being together for over a year, Daryl had never once uttered those three important words to you. You had never let it bother you, choosing to move at the archers preferred pace. One night, after a particularly bad dream, was when those important words were uttered to you.

Genre: Angst to fluff.

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour arc, pre the building of the bridge.

Warnings: Nightmares.

Word count: 1k.

A/n: Working on transferring all of my projects from my old phone to this one, so I wrote this little snippet instead to have something to post. Hope y'all like it! This was inspired by a post I saw on my dash but I don't know who made the original post.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“No. Please, no! Dun' hurt her, please!”

Stirred from your slumber by your partner's distressed mumbling, you turned over in the bed. You slowly rubbed the sleep from your eyes, clearing the sleep induced fog from your mind before turning your head towards the sleeping archer beside you.

Your heart clenched in pain at the sight of distress evident on his face. His eyes were scrunched tightly and his eyebrows were furrowed into a deep frown. His breathing was erratic and there was sweat rolling down his temple.

While deciding whether or not to gently shake Daryl awake, Daryl bolted upright in bed. “No!”

“Daryl?” you spoke softly, sitting up slowly and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. However, it seemed as though he was still stuck in a daze, because he jerked away from your touch, whipping his head to stare at you with wide eyes.

“Daryl, baby, it's okay! It's just me. It's just me. You're okay. You're here with me,” you reassured him in a soft voice, slowly placing your hand on his shoulder again. When he didn't flinch away this time, you brought both of your hands up to cup his cheeks. “You're okay.”

Daryl slowly nodded, his breathing sounding choked off. Unwillingly, a tear slipped from his glossy eyes, and you gently wiped it away with your thumb. Acting on instinct, Daryl moved forward and wrapped his arms around you, dropping his head onto your shoulder. A sob wracked through his body, causing your heart to break into a million pieces for the man who you loved dearly.

You placed a small, tender kiss to his temple, slightly rocking your bodies from side to side. You simply held Daryl in your arms and allowed him to cry it out, acutely aware of the fact that he rarely, if ever, cried. His emotions bottled over and this one particular nightmare was his breaking point. Whatever the nightmare was about, it must've been terrible for the strong archer to break down.

“He killed ya,” Daryl finally told you in a broken whisper, his voice cracking towards the end. “He killed ya and I couldn't stop him.”

“Who?” you gently urged, rubbing your hand soothingly over his back, hoping to bring him some comfort.

Daryl shook his head, tightening his arms around you. “I dun'—I dun' know,” he whispered with a strain in his voice, sniffling slightly. “It was Negan at first, but then it was my father, and after a while I couldn't tell 'em apart anymore. One of 'em brought that fuckin' bat over yer head and I had to watch. I couldn't stop him. I can't lose ya, I can't—”

You pressed another kiss to his head, holding the back of his head gently as he buried his head deeper into your shoulder. His tears were staining your—technically his—shirt, but you didn't even notice. Your only focus at that moment was to try and calm the archer down. To reassure him that it was only a nightmare, that you were okay.

“Daryl, hey. Look at me,” you softly urged him, watching carefully as he slowly lifted his head and looked into your eyes. “I'm okay. I'm right here. It was only a nightmare. Your father's dead and Negan is locked up. He might as well be dead. Neither of them will ever get to me or anyone else ever again.”

Daryl nodded, his eyes casting downwards. “I know. S'jus'... M'scared,” he admitted, bringing one of his hands up to wipe the tears from his eyes. “I can't lose ya. I jus' can't. I won't survive if somethin' happened to ya.”

“You won't lose me,” you reassured him, pulling him into your arms. Slowly and carefully, you lowered yourself down until you were laying back on the bed, Daryl now comfortably laying on your chest. “I promise you, nothing will happen to me. I won't go anywhere near Negan. You're stuck with me for the rest of your life, Dixon.”

Daryl chuckled softly, burying his head deeper into your chest. “I like the sound of tha',” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your chest. He sighed in content when he felt your fingers begin to thread through his hair, closing his eyes at the comforting feeling.

In no time at all, Daryl was yawning, eliciting a fond giggle from you. “Go to sleep, baby. I promise I'll be here when you wake up.”

Daryl nodded and allowed his body to relax, willing his mind to shut off. You were okay. He was okay. His father is dead and couldn't terrorize him anymore. Negan wasn't dead, but he was locked up and couldn't get out. Everything was starting to get better.

As he was being lulled into slumber, he let a confession fall from his lips, something he should've told you long ago:

“I love ya.”

You smiled softly down at him, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead. You had waited for a long time to hear those three important words from him. Deep down, you always knew Daryl loved you, but hearing it from the man himself finally confirmed it. Your heart swelled with love, and you couldn't believe how lucky you had gotten with this beautiful man.

“I love you more, Daryl Dixon.”

You didn't know whether he had heard you or not. Everything was silent after you had said that. The warm press of Daryl's body against yours and the reassuring rise and fall of his chest lulled you into sleep as well. However, right before darkness overtook you, you heard him mumbling one last thing.

“I love ya the most, sunshine.”

[pedroscurls]

Title: One Drunken Night (Part 8.)

CHAPTER TITLE: Hello Again

Character(s): Negan (pre-apocalypse), Joel Miller (pre-apocalypse, au), and Reader (third-person POV) Summary: Three years have passed and everything seems to now be falling into place in Reader’s life. Until a familiar face shows up in the most unexpected of places. Word Count: 5,020 Author's Note: Did a bit of a time jump in this chapter to kickstart what’s to come... (also that gif of Pedro Pascal, just ugh) Warning: SMUT (w/ Joel); Negan being an asshole/language; mentions of premature labor 

(GIF source: @loregifs, @jdmorganz)

Three years later…

Joel was standing behind her, peppering kisses along her shoulder. It had been three years since they decided to become a couple and everyday, he felt so lucky. He hadn’t felt this happy in a long time.

“Mmm… We’re gonna be late,” she smiled, tilting her head to expose more of her neck as his lips brushed against her hot spots, causing a whimper to escape her lips. Three years and they still couldn’t get enough of each other.

“I’m just so proud of you, darlin’.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Joel smiled, pulling back to turn her around to face him. “I think you would’ve done just fine without me.”

“I’d rather not think about that life,” she teased. “You think tonight will go okay?”

Joel cupped her cheeks, looking into her eyes. “It’ll be great. You worked so hard and you finally made it happen. Your own art show, darlin’.”

Before she could reply, they heard the sounds of quiet footsteps enter the room and the little girl was holding her stuffed bear, tucked underneath her arm.

“Mama!” The little girl grinned, her dimples immediately showing. The little girl had equal traits from her mother and from Negan. While her smile resembled Negan’s, her big eyes resembled her mother’s. Big, curious, warm, and inviting.

“Hey, sweetpea.” She smiled, scooping the little girl in her arms. The little girl rested her head against her mother’s shoulder as she looked over at Joel. 

“Hey babygirl,” Joel leaned over to kiss the girl’s forehead, brushing her dark locks away from her face. “You excited to spend the night with Uncle Tommy?”

The little girl nodded rapidly, excitement filling her eyes. “Yup! I got my jammies.”

“You going to be a good girl?” Y/N asked, tickling her sides as the little girl’s laughter filled the room.

“I always am!” 

“I beg to differ,” Joel snickered. “You can be naughty sometimes, babygirl.”

The little girl huffed, hugging her bear closer to her chest. “No.”

Before Joel could reply, there was the sound of a knock. The little girl grinned, squirming against her mother’s arms as she let her down. 

“Uncle Tommy!” The little girl ran out of the room, giggling to herself.

Joel looked over at her lovingly which Y/N caught onto immediately. She stepped up to him and pressed a hand to his chest. 

“I think she likes Tommy more than she likes me,” she teased, feigning a pout.

“You might be right,” Joel teased, causing Y/N to gently smack his arm. “I’m teasin’.”

“You better or else you’re gonna have to make it up to me.” 

Joel smirked, leaning down to press a soft kiss onto her lips as his hand drifted down to grasp her backside. “I don’t mind,” he whispered huskily. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me.”

Joel chuckled, pulling back as he pointed towards the door. “We probably should get that since she’s gonna try to open that door.”

Y/N smiled and nodded in agreement. Once they reached the front door, they saw the little girl standing on her tippy toes, trying to reach for the doorknob but failing. 

“Whatcha doin’?” Joel called out, causing the little girl to whip her head in his direction. He flashed her a wink and picked her up into his arms, peppering kisses along her face as her giggles engulfed them once more. 

Y/N watched them with loving eyes. She had never thought she would be in this position, but the universe worked in mysterious ways and she wouldn’t have it any other way than this. She opened the door, seeing Tommy on the other side with a grin on his face.

“Where’s my favorite girl?”

“Me! Right here!” The little girl managed to say between giggles, gently pushing against Joel’s face as she tried to reach out for Tommy.

Y/N handed Tommy the little girl’s backpack, making sure that everything she needed was packed. She looked worried, concerned, but Tommy gently rested a hand on her shoulder and she felt herself relax. The Miller brothers had been a godsend in her life and while she was head over heels over Joel, she was just glad Tommy had turned his life around, especially with Maria by his side.

“She’ll be okay. I promise.” Tommy said.

“I know, I know. It’s just–”

“Will it help if I call you every hour?” he teased.

“Yes,” she replied all too quickly. Tommy arched his brow and then let out a quiet chuckle. “I trust you, Tommy. I’m just– She’s my little girl.”

“It’s for one night. If you find that you miss her too much after your show and you wanna pick her up, you’re more than welcome to.”

“Thank you.” She sighed, looking over at Joel and her little girl as they both were talking amongst each other in a way where she couldn’t understand. While she had a special relationship with her daughter, so did Joel. “We owe you… And Maria.”

“Don’t sweat it. We’re happy to look after this little one.” Tommy then took the little girl in his arms, feeling her snuggle immediately against him. “We gonna have fun, right?”

The little girl nodded excitedly. “Right!” 

Y/N and Joel smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Once they pulled away, the little girl looked up at them and smiled, her dimples once more showing itself. 

“Wuv you,” she said. “A wot.”

Y/N felt her heart melt, running her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “You be good for Uncle Tommy and Maria, okay?” 

She nodded. “Yes, mama.” 

“We’ll see you tomorrow, babygirl.” Joel added, kissing her forehead. “Love you lots.”

“Wuv you forever,” she replied almost instantly. 

“Alright, alright. This little lady and I are going to head out and eat lots of sugar,” he teased. “You two have fun and congratulations again. You deserve it,” he added, looking over in Y/N’s direction.

Once they left, Y/N turned to Joel and sighed. “I miss her already.”

He chuckled, pulling her into his arms. “She’s in good hands.”

“I know.”

“Tonight’s about you, darlin’. Let’s get going.”

About thirty minutes later, Joel and Y/N entered the art gallery. There were plenty of people already in attendance and she noticed the array of photographs she had taken that was now being displayed for the guests to look at, to admire, and to critique. 

Though, it didn’t matter. 

Her collection was all about her daughter, Mila. 

—

Three years earlier…

“Joel… Joel.” Y/N called out, tapping his foot after she used the bathroom. She was about six weeks away from her due date, but she felt something was wrong. Something was different. There was pain radiating through her body and it wasn’t until she let out a scream of pain that Joel awoke with wide eyes.

“Darlin’? What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, she looked down at the pool of water surrounding her. “My water just broke. Joel… My water just broke! It’s too early.” 

“Okay, okay, calm down, darlin’. It’ll be–”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Joel!” She screamed in pain again, gripping the edge of the bed frame as she hunched over in pain. 

He nodded immediately and pulled on a pair of pants and a dark t-shirt, not bothering to fix it once he noticed it was inside out. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

She nodded, leaning against him and gripping onto his arm with a tight grip that even Joel winced. Once he led her inside his car, he took a deep breath and walked around to the driver’s side. He climbed inside and leaned over to kiss her cheek. 

“It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. She’ll be okay,” Joel repeated, trying to reassure her and also himself.

Eight hours had passed and the sound of her daughter’s cries filtered the room. Y/N was drenched in sweat and she was exhausted, but once she heard her baby’s cry, she felt overcome with emotions. 

Joel, on the other hand, had been by her side through it all. He kept a hold on her hand as she pushed, whispered sweet encouragements, and even wiped at her brow. He wanted her to know that he was here, he was all in, like he had told her so many months ago.

Joel had cut the umbilical cord and smiled at the sight of the newborn. She had thick, dark hair and long eyelashes that sat perfectly against her full cheeks. He even noticed the dimples that were very noticeable and realized that she must have gotten that from Negan. 

However, before Y/N could ask to see her daughter, they had wheeled her away which caused her to look at the main doctor with worried eyes.

“W–Where are they taking her? What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

The doctor instead just let a small smile line her lips. “She’s about six weeks early, so it’s just standard protocol that we make sure she is okay and healthy.”

“But–”

“We’re just going to run some tests, make sure that everything is okay before we bring her by. I assure you that once we finish, we will let you know. For now, get some rest, Mama.” The doctor smiled reassuringly. “You did amazing, congratulations.”

Once the doctor left, Joel sighed and glanced at the door before turning his attention to her. He noticed her big eyes, filled with tears and visibly concerned. 

“You did great, darlin’.” He whispered, pecking her lips to try and get her to relax, to rest. 

“Joel… I’m scared. Is she–”

“She’ll be okay.” Joel reassured her. “Try and rest, okay? I’ll wake ya up once the nurses come back.”

She wanted to argue, to tell him that she was fine, but exhaustion had caught up to her and she shut her eyes almost instantly. 

It had been a couple of hours before Y/N awoke. She looked around and noticed Joel sitting in a chair next to her bed. Just as she was going to call out his name, a nurse walks in followed by another who was rolling in an incubator with a baby inside. 

“Joel…”

He immediately stood up, taking her hand into his and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Is she okay?”

The nurse didn’t answer the question, but instead replied, “She’s having difficulty breathing on her own, so we’re monitoring her and ensuring that she gets the oxygen she needs to help her.”

Y/N bit her lower lip, sitting up in her bed and looking over at the nurses. “Is she going to be okay?”

“We’re monitoring her, but she’s doing great.” The nurse replied, helping her sit up. “We thought you might want to see her… She’s got beautiful big eyes and her dimples are very cute.”

Y/N felt tears sting her eyes once she looked over at the little girl in the incubator. She was sleeping peacefully and if it weren’t for the incubator, she would have assumed that the little girl was healthy and okay. 

“Is she in any pain?” Joel asked. 

The nurses shook their heads. “The oxygen is helping her, so she’s okay.”

“Do you want to name her?” One of the nurses asked.

Y/N hesitated, slowly shaking her head, catching Joel by surprise. “Not yet…” She didn’t want to name her yet, afraid that something would happen.

“That’s okay. Once you figure out a name, you can let us know.” 

The girl stretched in the incubator and slowly fluttered her eyes open. Y/N looked down at her and smiled, feeling tears sting her eyes. Joel on the other hand was enamored with the little girl already. He noticed the dimples and when her eyes opened, all he could think about was Y/N. Big, beautiful eyes. 

“She’s got your eyes,” he said aloud. 

Y/N blushed, taking his hand in hers. “She’s– She’s amazing.”

They stayed in the neonatal intensive care unit for the next month as the nurses monitored the little girl’s breathing. Y/N had decided to document their journey, taking a variety of photographs of the little girl who had been in an incubator. 

There had been times where her oxygen levels were too low, even with the help of the oxygen tank and it had terrified Joel and Y/N. She still didn’t have a name, but when the little girl was finally healthy enough to be released, for Y/N and Joel to finally hold her, she knew what her name would be.

Y/N was sitting down in a chair before a nurse picked up the newborn who was swaddled in pink. The nurse gently handed the little girl to Y/N and she cradled the back of her head and neck as she held her daughter against her for the first time.

The little girl snuggled against Y/N and she felt tears stinging her eyes. Joel was standing next to her, watching the little girl closely. 

“Do we have a name for this little warrior?” The nurse asked, smiling.

“She does…” Y/N smiled. “Mila… For miracle.”

Joel grinned. “That’s perfect.”

—

“Look at all these photographs,” Joel marveled, looking at the displayed photographs of Mila. It felt like yesterday when she was born and despite the very turbulent beginning, she had been otherwise healthy. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Y/N smiled.

“Takes after her mother,” Joel winked.

“It still makes me emotional,” she admitted. “We could have lost her.”

“But we didn’t.”

She nodded, leaning up to peck his lips. “I can’t believe I have my own art show.”

“Well deserved, darlin’.” Joel pecked her lips and then motioned to the art curator who was motioning for Y/N to walk over in his direction. “Duty calls, baby.”

“Will you be okay? I know this isn’t what you’re used to and–”

“This art collection is of our babygirl, darlin’. I’ll be fine.” 

Y/N nodded, giving him one last kiss before she walked over to talk with the curator. He raved on and on about how so many people had already shown interest and how they want to extend her showing for another two weeks. It had resonated with plenty of mothers because while the collection was solely focused on Mila, it also showed the juxtaposition of motherhood. 

“Congratulations,” the curator smiled, clinking his glass of wine with hers. 

“Thanks, Jack. I still can’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it. You deserve it. Great job. Now, go out and mingle. Tonight’s your night.” He winked, giving her a tight hug and walking away from her.

Y/N looked around the gallery, noticing at how crowded it was and she smiled to herself. She had done it. A successful art show. She scanned the crowd and smiled when she met eyes with Joel. She downed her glass of wine and set it on a table, walking over to him as she was stopped by a few people to extend their congratulations and express how amazing her work was. 

Finally, she had reached Joel and he was looking down at her with an amused look. “You’re popular.”

“I know, I kind of don’t like it,” she laughed. “I was thinking…”

“Hm?” Joel arched a brow, running a hand through his hair as he felt her fingers dance along the buttons of his shirt. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, darlin’?”

Maybe it was the fact that she felt so happy or maybe it was the effects of alcohol, but she stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. “Think maybe we can do a quickie?”

Joel grinned, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Here?” 

“Well, not here here. But the bathroom, maybe.” 

“Mmm, let’s go.” 

Y/N bit her lower lip and took his hand, leading him through the crowd. Once in the single bathroom, Y/N locked it behind her and looked over at Joel. There was a primal look in her eyes and it got him excited. He reached down to press against his front, grunting at the pressure.

“Joel, take me. Please.”

Joel growled, picking her up to set her against the sink. Luckily for him, she was wearing a dress so he had bunched up the fabric to rest around her hips as he pulled down her panties. “I think I’m gonna keep these for the rest of the night.” He winked, pocketing her panties.

“Joel, fuck me.” 

He grunted, running two of his fingertips along her slick heat. She let out a quiet moan, moving her hands to grasp at the edges of the sink. “Wet for me already?”

“Always wet for you,” she corrected.

Joel smiled, “Attagirl.” He undid the buckle on his belt and the button at the top of his jeans. Unzipping his pants quickly, he pushed them down with his boxers and grasped his member in his hand. He stroked himself, his eyes focused on her wet heat.

“Joel…” She pleaded. “Please.”

He grinned, running his tip along her slit before he slid past her folds. Joel groaned, moving his hands to her hips to hold her steady as he pushed himself further into her depths slowly. He would never get tired of this, of her and as her eyes had fallen shut, Joel tried to remind himself that they were on a time crunch. He couldn’t take his time like he normally did, so instead, he delivered a few sharp thrusts to elicit a loud moan from her.

“Shh…” He whispered, bringing a hand down to cover her lips. “Gotta stay quiet or else we’ll get caught.”

She nodded, looking into his eyes as his hips snapped into hers repeatedly. She felt every inch, throbbing within her walls as she milked his cock. Joel groaned, dropping his hand from her mouth to grab her hips again. He had to be quick, but he was still very determined to make her reach her climax first.

“Joel…” she whimpered, bringing her legs to wrap around his waist, which brought him deeper into her depths. Joel grunted, watching as her breasts bounced beneath the fabric of her dress as he continued his rough and deep thrusts. He could tell that she was nearing her climax from the way her body started to squirm against him and her eyes rolling shut once more. 

“Mmm, fuck me, darlin’,” Joel groaned. His thrusts were rough and he was sure that she was going to be sore after this. “Fuck, come for me, baby.”

She moaned, biting her lower lip to try and remain as quiet as possible as her walls finally tightened around him. Joel groaned, his thrusts never faltering as he allowed her to ride her high. After several thrusts, Joel felt a tightness in his lower abdomen before he quickly pulled out to release along her inner thigh. He was breathing heavily, staring down at her as he watched her bring a finger to her inner thigh and run it along his release. She brought her finger to her lips, sucking at the tip and tasting his warmth release. 

Joel growled. “Don’t get me started again.”

She smiled at him innocently. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Just wait until we get home,” Joel whispered huskily, his eyes dark and filled with arousal. “I’m gonna make you come over and over until all you can think about is me, and me alone.” 

“You promise?”

Joel grinned. “Oh, I guarantee it, darlin’.” 

“I love you,” she smiled, cleaning herself up and pulling her dress back down. 

Joel smiled to himself. He would never get tired of hearing those words.

“I love you too, darlin’.”

—

It had been a year since Lucille’s death and he would be lying to himself if he said he was handling it well. He was drinking mostly every day and he couldn’t handle living in the house, so he had decided to sell it. He was living in a small, one bedroom apartment and it was a complete mess. 

Losing Lucille had been tough on him and tonight was no different. He was already at a local bar, on his fourth drink as he slumped over the counter of the bar. He could hear the chatter coming from the main street, seeing plenty of people walking in the direction of a local art gallery.

Negan downed his drink, letting the alcohol burn his throat. He stood from his chair and tossed some bills onto the counter as he left the bar. He was feeling tipsy already, following the crowd until he saw her. 

He widened his eyes slightly and followed her into the art gallery. Negan had lost her in the crowd, feeling highly out of place as he stopped a nearby waiter who was carrying a tray of glasses filled with wine. He took one eagerly and downed the glass before grabbing another.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

Negan tried to find her, the familiar face in the midst of the crowd before his eyes caught the photographs that were displayed. He arched a brow, deciding to take a look around as he noticed her name on most of the displayed pictures. 

He wasn’t watching where he was going before he bumped into a strong figure, looking down at the other man whose hair was slightly slicked back and was definitely dressed for the occasion. Though, despite his clothing, the man still looked out of place, almost like he didn’t belong and Negan simply smirked.

“Joel,” he grinned.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Joel whispered, his jaw tightening at the sight of the man. He glanced around the room, trying to find Y/N to prevent her from seeing that the father of her child was here, at her art show with photographs of Mila. 

“Who’s the kid? She’s in every single picture,” Negan asked, avoiding his question.

“I asked you a question, Negan.”

“And I asked you one too.”

Negan chuckled. He was amused that he still managed to get under Joel’s skin after all these years. 

“You need to leave,” Joel replied. “Now.”

“Why?” Negan asked, bringing the glass to his lips.

“Don’t you got a wife to take care of?” Joel replied. He noticed Negan’s expression change, seeing the smirk turn into a frown and his eyes narrowing slightly. Negan didn’t need to say anything for Joel to understand what had happened. “Ah, shit, I’m–”

Negan didn’t let him finish, bringing his free hand to deliver a rough punch across Joel’s face. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What the hell,” Joel groaned, gripping his jaw. He stared at the other man, his eyes narrowed as he tackled him to the floor. Immediately, the two men began exchanging punches, the gasps coming from the crowd as they moved away from the scene. 

Both men managed to deliver hard punches, skin tearing and blood dripping. By the time they were broken up and separated, Joel had a cut at his cheekbone while Negan’s lip was cut open. Both men also had bloody noses and when they heard their names, they turned their attention to her.

“Joel!” She exclaimed. 

“Negan?” she added. 

The art curator immediately ran to the commotion, seeing both men staring at each other with glares before he motioned for security to escort them out of the building.

“No… No, Jack, wait,” she stopped. 

“Honey, this is your night. Don’t let them ruin it.”

“I know, I just– I gotta talk to them.”

Jack sighed. “Fine. Take them to my office.” 

She nodded and led both men away from the crowd and to the back of the building, opening the door to Jack’s office and slamming the door shut. Her blood was boiling at the sight of the two and she looked around the room to see a roll of paper towels. Instantly, she tossed it to Negan who caught it with a low groan. 

“Joel, really?” She began. 

“Darlin’, he–”

“I don’t care!” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, snatching the paper towel from Negan to clean himself up.

“And you,” she then turned her attention to Negan.

“Hello again,” he winked.

“Fuck you,” she spat. “You don’t get to do that.”

“Well, if you want to go down memory lane, I wouldn’t–”

She walked up to him and delivered a sharp slap across his cheek. He grunted, tightening his jaw as he looked back down at her.

“You don’t get to show up here three years later and act like nothing’s wrong.”

“In my defense,” Negan said, dabbing at his lower lip with a wince. “I didn’t know this was your show and I certainly didn’t plan on coming here, but… I saw the crowd and decided to follow it.”

“Just my luck,” she whispered to herself. “You need to go.”

“That’s what I told him,” Joel chimed in.

“Joel, just don’t.”

“Sorry,” he repeated.

“She got you whipped,” Negan chuckled. “You finally fuck her, huh?”

Joel tightened his jaw and turned his body to face Negan, his hand curling into a fist. “Have some respect or else I’ll do worse than give you a busted lip.”

“Alright, sure, old man,” Negan spat, rolling his eyes. “I could fuck you up too.”

“Just stop!” She yelled, sighing in defeat. “You know what? I think we should just go home, Joel.”

“But it’s your night, darlin’.” 

“I just want to leave.” She sighed, glancing over at Negan. It hurt to have the father of her child standing so close to her. She wanted to tell him that he was a father, that her daughter was a spitting image of him with the dimples and quick-witted humor, but she couldn’t find the words.

“Wait,” Negan sighed. “If this is your art show, who’s the little girl?”

Her heart dropped. She glanced over at Joel and then back at Negan. “My daughter.”

Negan arched a brow, glancing between her and Joel. “No shit? Not only did you fuck her, but you got her pregnant?” 

“Negan, I swear to god–”

“She’s yours!” She yelled, finally feeling the weight being lifted off her shoulders. She looked over at Negan whose eyes had widened and his hands dropped to his sides. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. “I tried to tell you years ago, but you didn’t want anything to do with me…”

“I– I’m a dad?” Negan stuttered. “That little girl in all those pictures… She’s mine?”

“No, she’s mine. I have raised her for the past three years and–”

“You never fucking told me!” 

“I tried!” 

Negan let out an exhale, looking straight at her. He remembered that night very vividly and he had beat himself up for it ever since. He never meant to hurt her and now, he had missed out on three years of his daughter’s life.

Daughter. 

“I– I’m sorry, doll…” Negan started. “I just– I was in a very bad place and–”

“I don’t care. It’s too late.”

“I want to meet her,” he whispered. “Can I meet her?”

Joel instantly interrupted, shaking his head. “No. You’ve done enough.”

“You don’t have a say in this, Joel,” Negan spat. “You’re not her father.”

“And neither are you,” he replied. “By blood, sure, but I have been by that little girl’s side since the day she was born.”

She couldn’t say anything. She certainly wasn’t expecting to see Negan ever again and had hoped to avoid this type of confrontation. She knew it was too good to be true, that everything in her life was now falling into place. The universe was practically laughing at her. 

“Negan, I don’t–”

“I deserve to meet her,” he interrupted. 

“Deserve?” Y/N scoffed. “My daughter was six weeks premature. She had to stay in the hospital for a month… A month after she was born because she couldn’t breathe on her own and Joel… Joel had been there through it all. I don’t care if you were in a bad place, Negan. I called you plenty of times to try and tell you but you made it clear that you didn’t want anything to do with me. You don’t have the right to come in here and insert yourself back into my life or my daughter’s.”

“I’m sorry,” Negan repeated. “I can tell you everything if you just– If you give me a chance.” The color of his eyes and his dimples reminded her so much of Mila’s.

She hesitated, looking between Joel and Negan. She didn’t know what it was about Negan, but it appeared that she still had a soft spot for him because she slowly nodded, which caught Joel off guard.

“Darlin’–”

She shook her head. “Joel, this is my decision…”

Negan looked at her with hopeful eyes. “I just wanna meet her,” he added. 

“Not yet,” she answered. “You’re coming home with us tonight and you’re telling me everything.” 

Joel and Negan shared a glance that didn’t go unnoticed and she arched a brow. 

“I don’t think tonight is a good idea,” Joel commented. “It’s the night of your art show and–”

“That takes a backseat now that my daughter’s father is standing in front of me, begging to meet her,” she interrupted. “You ready to go?”

Negan slowly nodded, glancing over at Joel. “You gonna beat me up again?”

Joel scoffed. “First of all, you threw the first punch, asshole.”

“First things first,” she added. “No more fighting.” She delivered a stern look towards both men, causing Joel to immediately nod and Negan to smirk.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel responded.

“I kinda like this new side of you, doll.” Negan winked. 

She narrowed her eyes as a response.

Negan smirked, bringing a hand to salute her. “Yes, ma’am,” he copied. 

Joel rolled his eyes and reached over to grab Y/N’s hand, immediately lacing their hands together and Negan took notice of this. Joel glanced over at the other man, making sure to let him know that she was off the market and no longer available.

Negan smirked, leaning over to whisper in Joel’s ear. “So you did finally fuck her.”

“Shut up.”

---

Part 9.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be tagged!): @kaitebugg03, @a-girl-interupted, @igotbasicdrag, @darkshadow6200, @fandomoniumflurry, @xhannahbananax03, @quinnverses, @xojdmasf​​

[hidtired]

Hey, I love your stories for Daryl Dixon! If you wouldn’t mind I had a request? Daryl and reader have a pre established relationship (met at the querry, got together at the prison, got ‘married’ at some point) of a few years. During the line up, after Daryl hits Negan for killing Abraham, Negan can kind of figure out him and reader are together by matching wedding rings. To punish Daryl, negan can hang the reader until they ‘die’ (stop moving) and cuts her down. After Daryl is taken the group can realize, after being sad for a bit, that the reader is breathing and is alive and bring a her to hilltop. Negan could have put a bag over readers head or something before being hung so that once cut down its harder to tell she’s alive, and they could have even taken a picture of reader hung up to mess with Daryl in his cell. Dual POV. Extra extra angst, and happy ending/reunion when Daryl escapes please! If you could, could it be a few parts long? I understand if you can’t do that or even get to this request at all and that’s 100% okay! Anyways, love your story’s!

Someone cooked here... this is beautifully messed up. So right up my ally!

Hangman

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: Y/N Dixon was to be punished for her husbands actions at the line up. Negan decided to do it in style. To have a rope looped for your neck, intended for your death. Daryl watches you hang before being dragged away. But you had still been alive by the time you were cut down.

2.1k words

Warnings (Mentions of suicide, gore, ANGST, violence, injury, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You met Daryl and slowly fell in love with him. Most say they fell in love at first sight. But you? It was slowly then all at once. He was a gruff man, but under that was the most caring person you ever met. You had caught yourself thinking of him differently while on the road after the farm fell. You were friends at the farm, joking and teasing one another.

"You bein' sweet on me?"

You sniffle wiping a tear and punching him in the arm. He had gotten shot by Andrea and had fallin on a bolt while looking for Sophia. The punch hurt your redden knuckles. You had turned and laid Andrea out on the grass. Her cry's of "Did I kill him?!" Sent you to shut her mouth. Your lip wobble trying to not met him eye to eye. Daryl sighed, "Come on girl. No water works for me." He chuckled at the sight, amused to see you so worked up for his sake.

He learned you cared for him that day. He also learned how much he did when everyone was separated after the farm fell. He hugged you. More of shoved you into him practically about to lift you in the air.

“What? Getting sweet on me Dixon?”

It didn’t become romantic until the first night at the prison. Better know to Daryl as ‘THE kiss’. You had finally felt safe for the first time in a while, and you were thinking of him like crazy. So, when he was a little too close and looked down to your lips for a split second… you took action and ran with it. You had grabbed him with both hands and slowly lean into him. Didn’t last long, a peck— a test. He looked taken aback before it clicked and he was kissing you more. Now this moment was better known to you as ‘scarring T-dog’. He had gone to find both of you for dinner and found Daryl pinning you to a wall while making out.

The question of marriage wasn’t proposed as much talked about one late night months into the prisons development. You lay down legs tangled you smiling at him like a fool. The people of the prison loved Daryl. So when a new comer he saved reference to you as Mrs. Dixon it got you feeling a way. “M’ not sure I wanna ask what’s got you all giddy.” You rolled into him more, a dumb smile on your face, “You~”. He raised a brow at you. There were moments when you got all lovey, on him, normally when you were about to start your period. Or ovulating which was a different kind of lovey…

“What do you think about marriage?”

He was not expecting that. He froze thinking of his parents. “Never had a good example of it?” He just didn’t understand the purpose of it. What was to be married? More so with how the world is now. You lean your head against his chest, “I see it as just a promise. To promise myself to you.” He looked down to meet your eyes, “Thought ya were already mine?” You nodded with a smile, “Exactly, I’m already yours. But I would be caring your name as mine.” That is when it sank in, you a Dixon. The Dixons. Them. His hold on you became a little tighter. It would mean everything they already did. He knew the only death could part each other. Thats when you officially became his wife. Later with rings to match.

Till death do us part…

That lead you all to here and now. Face to face to death. Negan, finished with his brutal attack to Abraham. The remainder of what left of him desiccated. Negan swang the bloody bat splattering everyone with blood. His taunting made the hot head that is your husband try and attack him. He landed a crushing blow before getting pinned.

Your POV

It had happened so fast. Daryl was pinned with his own crossbow pointed at his head. The man holding it speaking, “I could end it right here.” You couldn’t even speak, you were shaking. Had a hand to your mouth trying to quiet your sobs. ‘Please don’t kill him… not him.’ Negan had noticed the ring on your finger and took a look to everyone’s face at that moment. He finally turned back to Daryl, “Nah, you don’t kill that. Not unless you try a little first.” A sick smile pulling his lips, “Put him back in line.” He eyed Daryl, “I don’t know what lying pricks you’ve been dealing with but I did say you only get one! No exceptions.” Negan leaned back before slowly turning to you and pointing, “Get her up.” You were swiftly pulled to your feet. Daryl’s voice booming in displeasure. Negan spoke again put to the group surrounding you, “We’ve never done this before! Simon… get the noose.” Some ooos rolled through the crowd.

Negan turned back to Rick. Daryl still wiggling free to help you. “See Rick I don’t like the look in your eye. Any of your eyes, you just don’t seem to get it!” It was Michonne voice urgent as she witnessed them set up the rope in a tree, “W-we get it. You don’t have to do that-“ Negans voice booming with amusement, “Oh I know you do but I did say no exceptions.” He turned his gaze to Daryl at the mention.

You were to be made as an example. To everyone but also for Daryl’s action. You couldn’t blame him for attacking him. He was a sick man doing horrendous things… and with a smile on top of it. You watched the rope go over a branch and someone put a wooden box down under the hanging rope.

You remember finding your Uncle hanging from a pipe in the garage. You were 8. The corners office stated he was hanging there for half a hour before he died, cause of death asphyxiation. The height he fell from didn't break his neck. The height of the box to the tree wasn’t high enough either.

Daryl was cursing and spitting threats as they dragged you to stand on the box. “I’LL KILL YOU, TOUCH HER AND I’LL KILL YOU!!!” But as the rope was looped around your head those threats turned to please, “No— PUNISH ME! IT WAS ME! NOT HER-“ He was crying and you looked on while he thrashed around. You smiled to him. You were scared sure, whether you were going to die fast or slow going through your mind.

Tears tracked down your face but you had stopped crying and had a look that could kill. Negan only seemed cheerful as always taking notice to your calming demeanor. You looked on to everyone on their knees as they stare at you with pure panic. You saw Rick’s hand shaking, mouth periodically opening to say something but he had nothing to say to get you out of this. Daryl had stopped thrashing and was looking to you with a face that pained you. He was pale from blood loss, eyes brimming with tears.

Your vision was blocked by a bag that was thrown over your head. You could slightly see through the fabric. Your heartbeat was in your ears. Negan had now come to stand next to you, “Now there is a new world order. You have shit I want so you give it to me or you could join— Hell her name?” You hear a savior state your name. “Ahh Y/N here… So let’s get this crystal clear for all of you now. You all belong to me.” He turned to you, “Any last words?”

You took a deep breath, “See you in hell.”

He chuckled. It was silent for a moment, air filled with anticipation. “Hope I don’t keep you waiting-“ He kicked that wooden box out from under you.

You felt gravity pulling you to the ground. Then the feeling of the rope tighten around your throat. Your ears picking up on the sounds of yelling and crying from your family. You had bobbed like a fish on a line. You put your hands to the rope on your neck. Struggling to breathe. Your body thrashing dangling from the tree. It wasn’t until you tilted your head back you got a little air. The noose didn’t seem to close all the way. Inside your mind yelled one thing, ‘go slack’. You slowly released your hands from the rope dangling with the rest of you. Soon after stopping any movement despite your body wanting to. You felt a pressure in the back of your eyes. The lack of sufficient oxygen making you feel like you were spinning. And the growing pain radiating around your neck was something you’ve never felt before. Like you were dying.

Negan had been talking throughout you struggling. But you hadn’t the mind to listen. It was Daryl’s sobs you recognized. He sounded like he was getting pulled away with the sounds of a heavy door slamming. A flash of light came through the bag on your head, click of a camera soon followed after. Negan talked again before you felt gravity pull you again. He had cut you down. You flopped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. You felt the wind get knocked out of you. Whatever wind you had left anyways. It took you a second before your first real breath came to you. But you try to remain still, to play possum.

You still remained there on the floor, yelling in your mind to stay awake. Coming up with anything to remain conscious like, math problems or names of your childhood pets. You had the feeling like you were on choppy water. Swaying back and forth on a boat. The deafening silence pulled you from your mind. Maybe you had died? But you decided you needed to move.

Group POV

Everyone was still after the saviors left. The first shuffling of gravel was Glenn moving to his wife after snapping out of the shock. His movement snapping everyone out of it to. Maggie clung to him while sobbing, emotionally and physically distressed. The sound of groaning and raspy noises made them all turn to you. It was Rick who spoke, “She turned…” You body propped up on hands and knees. They looked on before it was Carl moved to put you down, everyone else had even yet to move before him. Carl only got a few steps before you pulled the bag off your head.

Everyone froze again. Your fist clenching around the rope still around your neck. The chocking noises and tears sounds as you struggle with moving, “Holy shit she’s still alive!” Aaron had ran past Carl to then kneel beside you. Removing the rope from you revealed a line of black and purple around your neck. The rest had made their quick approach to you in disbelief. You were clawing at anyone next to you, you were in pain and didn't know who to act other then to wither. One hand still to your throat. Your eyes were blood red and the noise you made while attempting to breathe was high and liquidy.

Sasha had moved up behind you looping her arms behind yours, “Quick we need to get her to Hilltop! Maggie to!” Michonne moving for your legs to carry you to a truck the saviors left. Glenn helping Maggie into the passengers seat. Eugene began to list facts about being hanged like, 'it takes 10-20 minutes before a person died. You had been hung by a 'suspension hanging' but the height you fell from wasn't sufficient enough. The Saviors lack of knowledge had saved your life.' It was mostly a nervous habit to provide the information, a sort of coping. He was watching Rick and Aaron put Abraham's body in the back on the truck bed.

Maggie yelled to support your head to Sasha who you laid onto. You were still fighting unconscious, tears streaming down your red eyes. Glenn slipped into the drivers seat. Maggie speaking out the windows, "We got her. Get back to Alexandria. Plan to kick those monsters in the ass." Just like that they were off to hilltop.

The rest stood to see the car go off into the distance. Still shaken but the littlest bit more relieved you hadn't died in the worse way imageable in front of them. When they finally got back in the RV to go back home Rick just couldn't help but spot the noose on the ground from the review.

Daryl had no clue about you getting back up from that monstrous act.

Part 2

Feedback welcome and requests always open and encouraged!

(If you or a loved one are suffering and having thoughts of suicide please seek help. You are wanted and loved. Its cheesy but true when people say it gets better.)

[negansfavlucille01]

JEALOUSY

Negan × female reader (Alexandrian reader, Rick's daughter)

Summary: Negan gets JEALOUS after he finds something in the readers room.

Warnings: 18+, smut, blowjob, spanking, fingering, clit rubbing, nipple sucking, unprotected sex, overprotective Negan.

Note: This is my first fic, so I don't know what I'm doing😅. Feel free to request some ideas for the future.

"Take your time. Make it good."

Olivia stuttered out a few words before rushing out of the kitchen.

"So, kid.. How about a tour around?" Carl sighed and began showing him around. Negan had taken off his boots and sock, enjoying the softness of the carpet. He checked out the sink, then some other rooms. There was one room that really had his attention. One that Carl didn't wanna show him. "C'mon, what's in there?"

"Nothing special." Carl mumbled.

Negan on the other side, wasn't having it. He opened the door anyway and stepped inside. There was a crib in one of the corners of the room, a bed in the other. He walked over to the crib and picked up Judith. "Look at this little angel..." He rocked her in his arms while she cooed softly.

"So, who's room is that?"

"Y/N's"

"Oh, Y/N's..."

Meanwhile you were just getting back from a supply run with your dad. You both got out of the truck, opening the trunk for Negan's men to see that everything was there.

"You go, I'll finish here." Rick said, while one of Negan's men was looking trough the stuff. You walked back to your house, your shorts lifting up a bit as you did so.

You saw Carl and Olivia sitting at the porch. Carl was holding Judith.

You entered the house without asking any questions. You took off your boots and started walking up the stairs to your room, stopping mid-stair when you heard someone shout "What the fuck?!".

You immediately recognized the voice. You continued walking. When you got to your room you sighed before opening the door. He was there, looking at your thrash bin that was next to your desk. You immediately regretted going in.

"Care to explained?" He said, looking up from the bin, while pointing at it.

"Ummm..." You were speechless. How do you explain that? He'd kill you.

"I want to know. Why do you have a condom in your thrash bin? A used condom."

"I think you can guess."

That only made it worse. He walked up, towering over you. You gulped as you felt his hot breath against your skin. "Who was it?"

"You don't know him..."

"I'd be very fucking glad to meet him, let me tell you that, sweetheart." He gently lifted your chin so you could look at him. It was like he was staring into your soul. His eyes were cold, almost showing no emotion, but there was one thing you could see. Jealousy.

"Get on your knees."

You accepted your faith, getting on you knees in front of him. You knew what he wanted, but you weren't gonna do anything else without a command. "You know what to do."

You nodded.

"So do it."

Lifting your hands off of your thighs where they were resting, you reached for his belt, unbuckling it. You unbuttoned and u zipped his pants, already seeing his hardness through them. Sliding them down along with his boxers, you couldn't help but stare at it. It was big with just the right amount of thickness and the tip was red, already leaking pre-cum.

You wrapped you hands around it, giving it a few strokes before he was solid like cement. Low groans escaped his mouth as you licked the tip, then further to his balls. You took him in your mouth, already gagging on the half of it.

"You can take more. You will take more." He grabbed a handful of hair and pushed you further until your nose was touching his public hair. "There you go. God, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth."

Your eyes watered from the need of oxygen. When he thought that was enough, he let you pull away, still keeping his hand in your hair. You took a deep breath before going back to pleasuring him with your mouth and hands. Soon you felt him twitch in your mouth, as he gripped your hair harder.

"Fuck, I'm close.. So fucking close."

He shoot his warm seed deep in your throat, groaning loudly before pulling you up on your feet. He kissed you harshly, tasting himself on your lips. Negan then pushed you onto the bed, towering over you. Spreading your legs open and setting between them, he kicked off his pants, that were gathered at his ankles. His jacked following, then his white barely see-through t-shirt. He threw them on the floor before focusing on getting you naked for him. He quickly slid off your shorts along with your panties, throwing them aside then ripping your tank top apart, leaving you only in your bra. You could see he was still mad, even tho he had that stupid grin on his face.

"You're mine from now on, capiche?"

You nodded but that wasn't enough for him. His rough hand slapped your ass, making you cry out.

"Yes. Yes, I understand..."

"Good." He reached behind your back, taking your bra off and throwing it to the pile of clothes on he floor. Immediately his lips were on your breast, sucking on the nipple, probably leaving a hickey. This made you moan like crazy, but it got even louder when he reached to rub your clit with his thumb while his two fingers entered you. Negan started pumping them in and out.

"You like that, baby?" His smirk got wider from the cute little noises you made. "Hell yeah, you do."

You whimpered when he pulled his fingers out, wanting more.

"Don't worry. That tight hole won't be unfilled for a long time." With that, he slammed into you, making you scream out. His hand quickly covered your mouth, muffins your cries. Negan's face buried in your neck as he started moving at a slow pace at first. He kissed your neck as you moaned from the feeling of his cock stretching your out. His pace fastened, as he was leaving wet kisses and love bites on your neck and collarbone. He was now fucking you mercilessly. "What, your tight little cunt can't take me all?"

That nasty grin on his face remained as he was giving you pleasure and pain at the same time. You were clinging to him, scratching his back and shoulders. He groaned as your nails dig into his flesh, but that didn't stop him from going.

"Negan..." You cried out, making him smirk even more.

"I know, baby. I know..."

Your walls tightened, signaling to him that you were close. He let out a low growl, buring his head even more in your neck. "I'm gonna cum.."

"Give it to me, baby. Give me everything you have.."

You came with a loud scream, his name coming out of your lips. He kept thrusting, chasing for his orgasm and soon enough you felt him twitch inside you.

"Oh, I'm gonna cum. Can I cum in this tight pussy?"

"What?! No, Ne-"

"That's a yes." He interrupted you before you could finish.

"No, Negan, please don't.."

"I'm gonna fill you up so good.."

You moaned as he shot his hot cum into you. Not that you minded, you just didn't wanna get pregnant yet. But it felt so good that you wanted to do it again. He was panting softly, still groaning. He dropped his weight on you, careful not to crush your tiny body. He finally pulled out, as you whimpered at the loss off him in you, already missing the feeling of him.

"We're definitely doing this again."

"Agreed..."

"I want you to remember who you belong to, princess."

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

dirt

sundress+no panties+daryl = uh oh...

title and soundtrack is dirt by depeche mode. you need to take depeche mode away from me tbh, I'm hung up on the exciter album writing smut when I should be making updates to my negan and ironstrange fics.

I also headcanon daryl having huge fat swinging balls for some reason and I'm so sorry you had to read that I turn into an animal when I write daryl

cw: 18+, word count 3k. a little rough (butt slaps, some bites, he calls you a "bitch in heat" and a "slut" a couple of times - lovingly of course), a little pervy (you're fucking outside and daryl eats his own come out of your pussy+breeding kink if you squint really hard).

He reaches in, fingers curling around the bunched up, patterned cotton of the dress and his mind blanks. The low growling, he realises, is coming from his own mouth.

"The fuck, girl?"

You look at Daryl over your shoulder, where the bare skin has erupted in goosebumps from his hot, humid breath. "What?"

You sound annoyed, but there's a distinctive teasing undertone to it. Your eyes are narrowed a little too much. The corners of your cherry-tinted lips are tilted upwards.

"You ripped all my damn underwear, Daryl! What did you expect?" You grouch, breaking the second of still silence. "Can't just take a stroll to Victoria's Secret anymore, can I?" Seeing his face darken even more, you hastily add, "I got a couple I wear on runs."

You sound so cute when you're annoyed, Daryl thinks, but it's overshadowed by his blood rushing in his ears, hot and fast. His cock is still pulsing in his jeans and it demands to be released.

"So you jus' walkin' 'round with allat juicy ass hangin' out fo' all da men to sniff?" Daryl feels an urge to clarify to you, what is exactly you're doing, that he's upset with. "Cuz that's exactly what all them dawgs are fuckin' doin'!" He's jealous, of course he is, but most importantly, he doesn't trust any of the men as far as he can see them.

Hell, he isn't completely sure even Rick would pass on the opportunity to get an eyeful of your soft thighs, your scrumptious ass, or your fat cunt, for that matter.

Lord knows they're the juiciest fucking things he has seen in his whole entire miserable life. Just thinking about it makes his rock hard cock twitch and release a sad dribble of pre-cum in his pants.

"Exactly, your girl!" You declare, eyeroll audible in your voice. "Nobody's seein' me without my panties 'cept you."

Daryl's only response is to hitch up the sundress higher, the movement so quick, the fabric gives a sad crack as the seams threaten to burst. Your ass is still bare, still round and smooth as ever, nobody should have this sort of curves while they're in the middle of a damn apocalypse, he thinks, and sinks to his knees and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your right ass cheek.

You yelp at the sharp pain. You squirm, your attempt at getting away, of course, futile: your hips and waist are firmly in his grasp. Rough fingertips dig into you, just shy of painful.

"There," Daryl inches back a bit, admiring the indentations left behind by his teeth. For someone who forgets to take care of himself most days, his teeth are surprisingly straight and white and strong. And he lets you feel it. "Now if any asshole decides to go nosin' where he shouldn't, there'll be a warnin'." Daryl sounds proud of himself, which is all and all - fair.

Once the initial shock subsides, your feel your cunt lips stick together even more as your arousal oozes out of them- and down your thighs, now that there isn't any fabric to contain it all. In all honesty, you did enjoy the occasional breeze that would waft up your skirt, even if it didn't offer much respite from the sweltering summer heat.

And Daryl is definitely not helping matters, either. He's like a damn furnace, pressed up against the back of your legs, all solid bulk, breathing hot and moist into your skin, every exhale going around the curve of your ass and disappearing between your legs. He knows it the moment that you shift in place, subtly trying to widen your stance even though there is nothing more you want than to rub your thighs together to provide relief to your swollen lips and throbbing clit.

He raises a hand, wide and open-palmed, and smacks your ass. "You're such a fuckin' slut," he grouses. And your first instinct is to gasp at the offense; you hide your grin in a lip bite. Yes, yes you are. And you know it. And he knows it. Your ass cheek jiggles as he gives it another well-aimed slap. "Lookit you," Daryl presses the issue, "drippin' wet." To hammer his point home, he takes a thick, fat finger and runs it along the seam of your cunt.

It glides easily. You shudder, biting back a moan. Your legs shake just a little, but Daryl notices - he always does - and his finger dips inside your lips. The rough, calloused fingertip swipes through your labia, stopping just short of your clit. You whine and he withdraws.

His numerous knives and tools clatter as he abruptly gets up.

"You wanna be fucked, huh?" Voice quiet, Daryl's front presses to your back with a malicious intent. The prominent bulge of his erection is pushing into your back. "Is that why you goin' round naked? So anybody coulda bend you over, anytime, huh?" He reaches around you, hand blindly nosing for your face. When he finds it, he wastes no time in prying your mouth open, sticking the damp finger inside.

Your own cunt, salty and tangy, blossoms on your tongue. The gesture makes you moan around his finger and him- he sticks another one in, keeping you quiet.

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl orders. The rasp in his voice makes your knees buck and your cunt weep and he knows it. His free hand moves at your back, and with the accompanying noises, you come to realise that he's opening his pants and hurrying to free his dick.

When the damp, silky tip touches the bare skin of your ass, your body reacts before you do. Your mouth wraps tighter around his fingers. Spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and onto his wrist. Your back arches into his body. He is just as scalding as the sun beaming down from the sky.

Daryl pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding them there until you gag. The motion makes your whole form spasm and shiver; his cock gives a responding jump of its own.

"Lookit you," he rasps directly into your ear, hot breath tickling the shell of it. "Like a fuckin' bitch in heat," he grabs the meat of your ass cheek, spreading you one-handed. His cockhead noses around the cleft, leaving a sticky trail behind itself. It dips near your cunt, adding your juices to the mix. "You want it so bad."

You do. You really, really do. But you know Daryl is mean. You love it when he's mean to you. When he is proud of the strength of his bulk, when his eyebrows draw tightly over his brilliant blue eyes and nothing, absolutely nothing can escape his predatory stare. You crane your neck, trying to look back at him, to plead with your eyes.

He gets it, because he always does. Daryl's fingers quickly leave your mouth, dragging a wet trail of spit down to your neck where his fingers wrap around it in a secure hold.

"You want it so bad, then fuckin' beg," he says the words and you immediately, greedily descend into the permitted depravity.

"Please, Daryl," your voice sounds hoarse, interrupted by hiccups as you struggle to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and around his fingers, "please, fuck me. I'll be good. Please."

You feel him fist his cock as it twitches; you can't help it, really, as you arch your back even more and push your ass against his rough hand. Immediately, he withdraws it, just to slap you again.

"You're a bitch in heat," he muses, but you can hear the beginnings of impatience in his voice. "Say it!"

He's never made you do that before. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, you gasp, part shock part offense, until you feel a drop of fluid roll out over the outer lip of your cunt and fall and disappear somewhere below you. Then it's just lust. The kind that tints the whole world red and narrows your field of vision.

"Fuckin' say it!" Daryl demands, patience thin.

You wouldn't put it past him to just shove himself in at this point. "I'm... I'm a bi- I'm a bitch in heat," you hiccup, feeling your face flood with heat. "I'm a bitch in heat, please fuck me!"

You feel his lips tilt up just the tiniest bit against your ear before he reaches back for his cock and aims it at your cunt in a single, precise thrust. You gasp and mewl as he suddenly stops halfway through. Your cunt ripples and flexes and squeezes. Daryl drops his forehead onto your shoulder, panting.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You're not - he knows better, he makes sure you're not before he even thinks about sticking it in - but you are. All that blood that went straight to your cunt the moment his breath caught up in his throat at the sight of your bare pussy - It's making your cunt swell all around him.

A pathetic mewl leaves your lips, your satisfaction incomplete. You wiggle, you arch, but Daryl is as unyielding as ever.

"You take what I give you," he growls, teeth bared like an animal against your ear. Nonetheless, you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Stars burst in your eyes. You are so full, practically bursting at the seam of your cunt where his fat balls rest against the stretched hole.

Slowly, Daryl withdraws, both of you hissing at the drag of his fat cock in your engorged cunt. You may be a bitch in heat but he's every bit the stud that is just as fervent and feral to breed you. His teeth creak as he pulls back completely, leaving just his weeping tip inside of you.

And then he slams home. And again. And again. And again.

With every powerful thrust of his hips, you gasp. Quiet, pleading moans is the limit of your vocal capacity. Mouth dry, the air gets trapped in the back of your throat as your lungs demand their due.

Daryl is unrelenting. His blunt fingernails drag over the skin of your throat, leaving marks in their wake, as he makes way to your mouth.

"This is what you wanted, slut?" He pants into your hair. "Be quiet. Be really fucking quiet unless you want everybody to see what kinda..." He inhales sharply, feeling your walls flutter at the flith dripping from his tongue.

And it shouldn't make you feel the way you feel. Those fucking words just add more accelerant to the fire in the pit of your stomach, spreading it from there and up, over your face. It flames. Your hand helplessly clutches the nearest surface as you attempt to brace yourself against his thrusts and the notion that anyone could see you.

Bent over something or another, dress hiked up to your waist and Daryl's hips pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace. He didn't bother undressing save for letting his pants hang freely just below his cock and balls. Heavy, fat balls, littered with coarse dark hair, that slap against your cunt and your clit with a resounding smack every time he drives his cock inside of your cunt. The squelching noise it makes is obscene.

Another whine, and your pussy squeezes him once again, blind and hungry for release. You can feel it building steadily, deep within your abdomen.

"Fuck yeah," Daryl growls, "you fuckin' like this, don't 'cha?" He's gotten the hang of it: the dirty talk, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He's a mean bastard with nothing close to dignity or self-respect. If anyone saw him, rutting into you, little more than two animals, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.

Daryl would stare them down up until his cock swelled and busted, depositing his seed inside your womb.

Your knees feel weak. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with him; seems like every pathetic whimper that leaves your lips only makes him meaner, stronger somehow. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising. Daryl effectively wears you on his cock, submerging himself into the warm depths of your pulsing cunt over and over.

"Da-Daryl..." You gasp, you moan and you plead.

He doesn't stop. He merely handles you into a different angle, the one that hits that special spot inside of you with every powerful thrust. He is mean, but he is also fair.

"Gonna cream my cock?" He barely makes sense to himself, the words that his dry mouth garbles seem to have a mind of their own. "Gonna be good, girl? C'mon."

"Ah," you want to say yes, you want to affirm, but all that comes out of your mouth are garbled, unintelligible noises of pleasure. But Daryl sees it. It's in the way your arch becomes near-painful, body overtaking your mind. Even the slightest bit of pain blends into hot-blinding pleasure. You don't know where what ends and begins.

It begins somewhere behind your cunt. The contractions start slow and aching, and every punch of his cock to your guts intensifies the feeling tenfold, until every last inch of your cunt is squeezing around him in that same arduous, suckling rhythm. It's like your pussy is nursing at his cock, attempting to suck his life out of him and deposit it into you.

The pleasure is like a wall of fire and water. Your chest blooms with it, but your extremities swarm with pinpricks. Mouth parted in a silent scream, you sway forward, managing to catch yourself on your elbows at the last moment.

The man behind you doesn't care. He's way past caring, having had started chasing his release the moment your cunt enveloped his cock in a vice grip. The meat of it is sensitive and he spends the few inches to the finish line gracelessly mashing it inside of you, accompanied by the sound of wet flesh meeting even wetter, sloppier flesh.

"Take it, fuckin' take it," you hear him gasp through your stupor before that familiar, warm rush floods your cunt. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, each forceful throb followed up by more and more seed being pumped into the depths of you.

Against your back, Daryl sags and pants out his excerption. Like a dog. His wet nose leaves sweat stains on your back where he nuzzles into you.

Your knees shake as you struggle to hold up his weight, and then your legs completely turn to mush when droplets of his cum escape your cunt as his spent cock slips out. You know you should be worried about stains in unsightly places but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

Daryl notices this, of course. His bulk slides off you; you hear him quickly shove himself back into his pants before his ass hits the ground with a loud thud. Next to you, of course, his stubbly, prickly cheek rubbing over the skin of your leg. He places a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, and then another.

You know the drill. It's hard for him to find words, sometimes, after a scene like that. It's the intensity of it, the forceful ejection of him out of his head where he spends most of the time, that renders him speechless. Daryl is forced to feel - good things. It's not something that he is used to.

Your skirt is still around your waist and the hot sun is shooting lasers directly at your ass and pussy. You've managed to get your bearings enough to feel at least a little self-conscious, a little exposed. Your combined fluid still drip from you and for a split second, you think about pulling up your panties to try and at least somewhat contain the mess.

Right, you sigh to yourself. It makes your exhausted body twitch and sag even more.

Daryl gently pushes away your hand that was attempting to pull the dress over your ass. You freeze; he smiles against your skin, a little closed-lipped grin that makes something warm and fuzzy make a nest inside your chest. That quickly turns into a startled gasp as his fingers glide through the mess of your cunt.

You're spent. Exhausted. So sensitive, his rough skin practically hurts on your hole and clit.

But Daryl gets it. You get him, and he - he gets you. His hot breath fans over your pubic hair and it's all the warning you get before he opens his mouth wide, flattens his tongue and licks. You've made a big mess and there is a lot to take care of, but if there's anything about Daryl that you know, is that he's thorough at what he does.

In no time, he's got his tongue shoved down your cunt as far as it would go, curling against your walls, lapping up his and your cum like your pussy is an all-you-can-eat-buffet and what's inside of it is sugar and spice and everything nice.

But it's not enough. It's not anywhere near your clit, or any other place that could make you produce more of the cream he's feasting on. Idly, you think about who's the real bitch in heat here, but push out your hips to meet his face nonetheless. You can be mean too. If you want to.

I don't know what to say for myself