#Soft dom Daryl Dixon

[r6eduss]

Sweetness.

•Summary: Daryl and reader haven’t had time for each other lately, because of this the reader begins to have doubts and insecurities but Daryl is quick to ease them. (Fem reader)

•Warnings: 18+, Soft Dom!Daryl, Smut. Major character death spoilers.

•Word Count: 3.1k.

•Setting: The Commonwealth.

•A/N: Guys this is my first fic, I was bored and decided why not make fanfiction soo.. 😭 also inspired by @/corvidcrossbow ‘s I like it long fic 🫶🏼

You had been overly busy, overwhelmed with the labor that the Commonwealth had brought upon you. Having to deal with the changes of when the world just fell was difficult enough, finally adjusting to the wickedness and horrors of this world just to have to adjust to how the world used to be all over again? It’s been a hassle on you and Daryl’s backs.

Before the world had fallen, you were still in college, studying and planning to pursue to become a doctor. When you arrived at the Commonwealth, you had been beyond confused what your occupation before the apocalypse had anything to do with why you should’ve been accepted into this place, soon finding out that you would receive a position of employment that would be just like what you used to be before everything went down.

Not only have you been beyond exhausted with your position, lately Nabila has needed extra assistance with her and the children, and who are you to decline? You’ve always been a shoulder that your family can lean on.

Today was finally one of those days that you had off, and of course you had spent the majority of your day babysitting the children. You didn’t hate spending time with them, in fact, you enjoyed it. But you were beyond exhausted and craved some time alone with your unofficial husband, Daryl.

It was around around 9:45 pm at night, and you at last entered your shared apartment. The silence was loud, feeling ringing in your ears from it. Judith and RJ had been at Carol’s house for the day, and Daryl had been out being a soldier for our community, so you were accompanied with quietness and some time for yourself. It was honestly quite comforting, considering how overwhelmed you have felt lately.

You had sat down on your couch, pinching the space between your eyes that rested at the top of your nose and closing your eyes. “God..” you let out a sigh, feeling drained and spent. You gave yourself a couple seconds of emptiness then proceeded to get up and head for your shared bedroom with Daryl.

You placed your bag around one of the clothing hangers in your closet, and made your way to your dresser. You picked out a pair of panties, and a nightgown. With your clothes in hand, you headed towards the bathroom. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you gave yourself a moment to reflect on all the events that took place before finally arriving at the Commonwealth. All the loses.. Carl, Glenn, Abraham, Sasha, Jesus, Tara and the list still goes on! You can't help but miss them and wish they were here to see the community that has been built here.

You catch yourself lost in your train of thought, and then work on stripping yourself of your clothes. You move to turn on the water, giving it a moment to get warm, then getting into the shower.

After your shower, you quickly slipped into your clean nightgown and panties. You took your used and dirty clothes and stuffed them into a basket, where you and Daryl’s laundry needed to be done. Standing next to your’s and Daryl’s queen sized bed, you quickly got comfortable under the sheets. A sigh left your lips, thinking of how much your mind and soul craved Daryl. Lately, you guys have had no time for yourselves.

You and Daryl have known each other since the quarry in Atlanta. At first, you thought he hated you, but sooner or later you realized that he isn’t one for communication. He showed his acts of love through his actions, always making sure you were safe.

Since the quarry, you had always stuck by his side. Sticking up for him when Rick, Glenn, T-dog and the others decided to leave his brother Merle on a rooftop alone. Daryl had refused your company at first, but with time, he warmed up to you and tolerated your presence. And eventually, he found himself falling for you, but of course you were the one to make the first move on him.

When you guys had arrived at the prison, that is when you made your move. It took a lot of self sabotaging on Daryl’s part before you guys had become official. And even then, Daryl isn’t particularly fond of label’s.

It had taken a lot of time for Daryl to start opening up to you even after you guys had established your love for each other. It was also awhile of staying at Alexandria for you guys to start getting intimate. Eventually with each other’s time together, you learned all about his trauma’s, the backstory of his scars and his childhood.

You were utterly in love with Daryl Dixon, and he was in love with you, he just had trouble saying those things out loud.

Your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, your tummy immediately felt as if it was filled with butterflies while blood rushes to your face, knowing that it was Daryl finally coming home.

You lift your head up as Daryl enters your shared bedroom, he looks tired, exhausted.. His hair is laced with sweat while he’s in the commonwealth’s standardized white-color armor. You’ve always thought he looked quite handsome coming back from a run.

“Hey..” you begin to sit up, now facing your lover.

“Hey.” he gruffed out. Your heart began to ache as your thoughts were laced with worry. Daryl has been so worn out lately, and has barely had any time to see you. What if he was starting to lose the attraction he had for you? What if he was starting to realize he’s interested in someone else? That possibility could become a reality considering you found yourselves in a community of 50 thousand other people.

“So, how was the run today?” You try your hardest to ease the silence, the quietness that had comforted you earlier was no longer comforting. Your nerves began to eat you from the inside out that you began to fidget with your thumbs, that’s something you’d always do when you were nervous, everybody knew.

Daryl knew.

“It was ‘ight.” He quickly took notice of how you began to fidget.

“Wha’ is wrong with ya?” He looked right into your eyes, his tone infected with slight concern. He was waiting for your response as he began to take off the annoying armor that he was required to wear.

Your heart race began to speed up, worried that he would view you as insecure and pathetic, you decided to avoid telling him what you were truly worried about. “Nothing! Just.. had an exhausting week.” You hoped he’d take your answer and roll with it, you were deathly afraid of Daryl seeing you less than you are.

After Daryl finished taking off the armor, he decided to accept the answer you gave him for now. He was tired, and was in no mood to go back and forth.

“Daryl, you should probably take a shower.” you just wanted him to relax for once, even with Ezekiel being the leader of this place, he never once let his guard down and you just wanted him to finally rest.

“Hm. Ya wan’ to get in wit’ me?” Daryl is never one to initiate things, but one thing he always loved was being able to share a shower with you. It felt romantic. Intimate.

“I already showered. We can cuddle when you get out?” You didn’t think anything of your response, well that was until…

He let out what seemed like an annoyed grunt. He took his clothes and headed to the bathroom. You’ve never been more anxious. Did what you say bother him? Did you piss him off? You released an irritated grunt from your lips as you hear the shower head turn on. You decide to lay back down, feeling your brain fall into a spiral of unpleasant anxious thoughts.

It’s been almost 20 minutes, and you’ve been in a complete swirl of negativity. Your chest felt heavy, feeling your heart completely sunken. Were you having an anxiety attack? You eventually hear the shower head stop and you could’ve sworn you were on the verge of passing out, since when were you so nervous around Daryl? You’ve always been super comfortable around him, feeling safe. Maybe it’s because of all this time trying to survive and to keep our loved one’s alive.

Hearing the sounds of him getting dressed, you can’t help but feel more uneasy. You were never fond of people being angry at you, and especially Daryl of all people. Sooner or later, the bathroom door opens. You look up and see Daryl wearing a regular dark gray T-shirt with gray sweatpants, he never was one to sleep without a shirt, considering his scars.

He walks over to the basket of clothes that needs to be washed, and puts the clothes that he was wearing under the uncomfortable set of white armor in the basket.

He looks in your direction, catching you once again fidgeting with your thumbs.

You refuse to look at him, feeling strong tension between you and him. Your breath hitches as you feel the bed dip, noticing that he was getting right into bed, next to you. He starts to get comfortable, getting under the sheets and closer to you.

The both of you lay completely flat on your backs, That’s when you feel him put his arm around your shoulder and pull you closer to him, head laying on his chest.

“I know somethin’ is up.” He takes your hand, making it rest on his chest. “Talk t’me.”

All the warmth went immediately to your face. It felt as if you stopped breathing for a moment, you didn’t wanna be difficult, that’s when you decided to just tell him about your worries, he has a right to know after all.

“Daryl, I'm scared.”

“Scared of wha’?”

Taking a deep breath, you continue. “I’m scared that one day you’ll realize that maybe i’m not enough for you.” You pause for a moment, then resume. “And, are you annoyed with me?”

His eyes widened a bit, it’s not what he was expecting. Not in the slightest. He lifts his head a little.

“Nah, m’not annoyed with ya.” He proceeds to lay on his side, facing towards you. “An’ why are ya thinkin’ ya wouldn't be enough?” From the bottom of his heart, he doesn’t have a single clue where this is coming from. Daryl is the most loyal person on this shitty earth, and he can swear up and down that he loves you to death.

“I don’t know.. We’ve been so busy lately getting used to the Commonwealth, and there are so many people here! So many options.. Maybe eventually you’ll realize that i’m not what you truly want.” Shamefully, the truth escapes your lips. You’ve never felt more insecure. Usually, you felt secure within your relationship, but the stress has truly gotten to your head.

He moves closer to your face, and puts his hand on your cheek, cupping the side of your face. His thumb gently rubbing against it.

“Don’t want nobody here but you.”

Your heart skips a beat, Daryl isn’t one for being upfront, and he isn’t the greatest at comforting people, but he loves you, and he’s very sure of that.

He locks eyes with you, admiring you and your beauty. For a second you could’ve sworn he had stolen a glance at your lips? Or maybe you were seeing things.

Your mind feels more at ease, and you break out a slight giggle “I’m sorry. I know I sound stupid, I just miss you.”

He uses his other hand to move your hair strand out your face, and cup the other side of your face, moving closer. “Ya’ don’t sound stupid.” He’s quick to lean in, closing the gap between the both of you, finally stealing a kiss from you.

His lips are kind of chapped, but oddly enough, still soft. The kiss was soft and tender, only having pure love behind it. Your eyes flutter open, just to see him staring at you. “I love you.”

Your lips curve up into a passive and cute smile, he never says it first.

“I love you too.”

You lean in for another kiss, the both of you have been so touch starved these past couple days. The kiss was gentle and sweet, but more ambitious. Even the slightest things about Daryl can get you going, and you sure as hell are in need of some sex. Especially after these couple weeks.

You lean more into the kiss, and that’s when you hear a grunt come from him. You swear you could turn into a puddle right then and there.

Eventually, you pull away, obviously needing to breathe. “Daryl, i’ve missed you.”

The corner of his lips turn into a slight smirk, and he begins to gently place his hand on the back of your head, playing with your hair.

“I know.”

That’s when he kisses you again, only this time using his hand on the back of your head to lean you in closer. This kiss was more needy.. More intimate.

You accidentally whine into the kiss, pressing your thighs together as you can already feel your panties start to get wet. He moves his hand from the back of your head to your waist, caressing and feeling your curves. He slowly makes his way to your thighs, where he takes the opportunity to pull you on top of him, and have you sitting on his lap while he lays on his back. You could feel his hard on.

“D-daryl.. I need you.” you say in a whine, you felt his cock twitch under you, he has his hands rested on your hips and has the most perfect view of you. He could stay like this forever.

“Yeah?” He said it in such a sweet and gentle tone it could drive you insane. One thing Daryl loved to do was tease you, he knew how flustered you could get. “Mhm.” You begin to tuck at his pants, looking into his eyes for approval.

With a slow nod, he consents. “G’on.” He wanted this as badly as you did, and tonight, he was going to make sure you were taken care of.

You were quick to go ahead and start to take off his pants and boxers while also taking off your nightgown, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock stretch out your tight cunt. He watched as you stripped him, missing every inch of you and your body.

Witnessing as his cock sprung out, your clit throbbed and you could feel your nipples harden. Daryl gently runs his hand through your hair, making sure that you are enjoying every inch of this. You prop yourself up, sliding your panties to the side and gripping his shaft while slowly lowering yourself onto it. You could’ve came right then and there. He stretched you out, and was always able to make you feel full and complete.

He lets out a low grunt, not only watching you lower yourself onto him, but also feeling the tight and warm sensation of you around him. You needed a moment to adjust to his size, you both haven’t made love since before the war with the whisperers, you just haven’t had the time.

After a moment, you began to move, slowly rocking your hips and lifting yourself up onto him. “Fuck..” You couldn’t help but let out a moan, you were full, and you were overly sensitive. Daryl squinted his eyes shut for a moment, he too had forgotten the bliss and feeling of him inside of your cunt.

With time, you sped up, bouncing on his cock. You threw back your head, rolling your eyes and having your mouth agape, It was almost embarrassing how slutty you looked. His hands roughly gripped your hips, hard enough to leave bruises, while also thrusting up into you. You were close but you felt yourself starting to grow tired.

You buried your head into Daryl’s neck, whining. He took the chance to flip you over onto your back, and take control. He pounded into you, the sound of skin slapping and the headboard rutting into the wall filling the room. You heard Daryl growl and you let out a loud and filthy moan, feeling embarrassed you were quick to slap your hand over your mouth, until Daryl grabs your wrist, and puts it above your head.

“Wanna hear ya.” He whispered, his voice gravelly. He loved the sounds you’d make, especially knowing that you were making those noises because of him. He continued to fuck you into your mattress, having one hand pinning down yours, and the other on your hip. With your other free hand, you found it roaming up into his hair. His hand gripping your hip quickly moved under your thigh, lifting your leg above his shoulder and adjusting his position. He thrusted into you, hitting your sweet spot and going at a relentless pace. You whimpered and proceeded to tug on his locks, pulling it.

And that’s when he let out a whine.

You could feel your core tightening, knowing that you were close. “D-daryl.. Please don't stop.” Waves of pleasure were rushing through you, and his scent filling your nostrils.

“Ain’t gunna.” He then leaned into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites up and then down to your breasts. You could hear his accent begin to grow thicker, That's how you knew he was approaching his release as well.

You were head empty, feeling your walls tightening around his cock and clit brushing against him. You were both laced with sweat while also letting out gasps and whimpers. He knew your body so well, and knew all the right things just to tip you over the edge. Daryl was also incredibly gentle with you, this wasn’t just fucking this was love-making.

“Daryl.. Im gonna–” He interrupted you with a sloppy kiss, when he pulled away there was a string of saliva still connecting the both of you. He used his tongue to lick up from your chest to your neck, the feeling of his wet mouth against your skin, it sent shivers down your spine, and that’s when you couldn’t anymore. You gasped as you reached your peak, the knot in your tummy finally unraveling. He rode out your high, pounding into you a couple more times before he pulled out and came onto your belly, letting out a low groan and making a mess out of you.

He collapsed right beside you, the two of you were both a panting mess.

With both of you still slowly recovering, he moves to look towards you and uses his thumb and index finger to raise your chin. “Ya feelin’ better sunshine?” His little nickname for you forever gave you butterflies.

“Mhm! I think im due for another shower though...” You attempt to move, feeling Daryl’s warm serum drip down from your tummy to your legs.

“I’ll join ya.” He says, as he helps you up and directs you both to your bathroom.

Divider credits: anitalenia 🦋

[writella]

Screwed Up and Brilliant

Synopsis: Negan is ready for you. Daryl isn’t; and maybe he’ll never be. Negan makes that clear to you tonight.

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (mentioned), Negan is a bad guy but there is nuance— at least I hope I accomplished doing so, angst, guilt, forbidden love, probably super stereotypical, reader at the Sanctuary, moral dilemma reader (but you got to understand, they’re both so fine!!), I feel like I need more cws but I can’t think of them and of course, smut, 18+: consensual, unprotected, vague dacryphilia, soft? dom!Negan, lite daddy kink, fingerings, riding, and basically just Negan blowing your brains out… but not in the walker way— the good way, the way we like. Amen.

A/N: Could you believe I started writing this in October or something? This is my first time writing Negan and I’m scared I may not have gotten it right so definitely feel free to give notes! This is set during season 7/8, I’m picturing Negan at the end of 8 and later seasons but there’s something about him older that gives me heart eyes everywhere, but whatever you prefer makes me happy. Anyway, from my heart, and maybe somewhere a little lower, to yours; with love from writella. ♡

You’re screwed up and brilliant, look like a million-dollar man; so why is my heart broke?

—— LDR, Million Dollar Man

The space was clean; minimal. The kind that let out no secrets of the owner that inhabited its insides. And of course there were the little things that let out some slight details: the ashtray on the nightstand— a smoking habit; a ring, a metal chain, another of black rope— an unsuspected, albeit small, interest in jewelry; the bottom nightstand closed by a lock—mysterious and cautious, though that was to be expected. It was only reasonable he’d have something he wanted hide. But other than that, Negan’s bedroom was quite unreadable; almost purposefully mundane.

There was a fireplace, a window at the corner, and a bed at the center. It had a dark, brass, rusted headboard that leaned against the wall. Two pillows at either side. The sheets were white, and the large blanket was of fur, a tan or medium brown, it was thick and heavy. Probably unnecessary for the approaching spring heat, but it adored the bed end well; matching the other bronze, or brown, wooden and darker aspects of the room. Even the light from the small fire, though you could see clearly, made everything mildly dim— the Sanctuary wasn’t known for its brightness after all.

And truly, nothing in this bedroom, or in this fortress of a place could be described as anything close to bright. Unless you counted the sun outside in the courtyard, or the largest fireplace that blazed in the main hall, or Negan’s piercing, priceless smile— so pristinely white, so wide it almost looked painful to perform. There was an eeriness to it as well. That was at the forefront, and everyone saw it. With the way he maintained their cleanliness, it was something that could look so pure, so put-together on any other; but on him, its power could scare you into worthlessness. It’s the one he used when he told someone what to do even if they hated it; it’s the one he used when killing someone’s best friend.

It’s also the one he used on the first day he ever spoke to you. The first time that truly mattered, really.

It was during Negan’s first supply gathering at Alexandria.

You still remember it well.

Your faces filled with desolation, but chins held high; you were strong— good at hiding the pain, the fear— only straight, pokered eyes and mouths allowed as everyone silently agreed with you. You had told Negan that Maggie was dead.

The Widow, he had coined her. The wife of your good friend that he killed— so generous a man was Glenn, even when he wasn’t trying to be. And she’s your friend too, brave Maggie. That’s the one he wanted, but as far as he knew, she was gone.

Thank God, you thought, Thank God, yes, indeed, until—

Negan’s eyes glazed over your frame for just a moment too long.

You weren’t speaking anymore. You kept it short enough. He should have turned his attention back to Rick but he didn’t.

Where there was sly roguery in Negan’s eyes, anxiety weld in the looks of all others: Rick’s throat tensed and tightened uneasily, sweat trailing down his curls and onto his forehead; Rosita’s jaw clenched with bitterness, brows furrowing under her green khaki cap with anger; and then there was Gabriel: his eyes turned from solemnity and pretend peacefulness to wide bewilderment. The plan you two exchanged had worked: you would tell Negan of Maggie’s passing, as per your idea, and Gabriel would swiftly solidified your lie by saying he was the one who officiated the short funeral. But then, another problem arose; one where he could be nothing else but helpless in aiding you. What was he, or anyone to do? It was easy to help Maggie, she was more than twenty miles away. But you, you were here. Right in front of him.

“Wait a minute…” Negan’s pointer shakes lightly by his temple, his mind turning curiously. “You.” He said, shooting his finger in the direction of your chest.

His smile, mischievous as ever, only grew wider as a moment passed and he made his realization: “You’re the one with that- tight- grip!” He balled his raised hand into a fist as he said it. A slight snicker came after, proud of his entendre. “My men were tryna put Daryl in the trunk and you latched onto his foot like it was your dying- act- which—” you attempt to lessen the startle in your eyes at his upward hitch in tone, “—it most certainly could have been.”

Negan comes closer now, his face nearing your own, “But you know better now, right?”

Obviously, you did not.

Or you would have stayed home, not given him the chance to remember you as he said he would after your nails could no longer claw into Daryl’s ankle. He was thrashing too much and Negan’s men pushed you away; they were too strong together against the two of you. They kicked dirt in your face for it, held a gun to your head until Negan told them to stop. His point was made with your two friends he had killed, no need for another— especially not one who amused him like you had just done.

‘DAYUM. She is surprisingly strong!’ He had yelled, ignoring the weeping faces of you and the group kneeling in a line on the ground; sweat, blood, and tears dripping everywhere. ‘And I do like ‘em loyal…’ He had given you a once over while telling his men, ‘Hands off, gentlemen,’ and before returning his attention back to Rick, he added, ‘I’ll keep my eye on you.’

And he did.

You made an impression.

Now you’ll pay.

Rick should have told you why he wanted you to stay with Judith. He remembered what Negan said too. He remembered what Negan said to everyone. He couldn’t forget. But maybe it didn’t matter. It was only the start of Negan’s day here. Maybe he would have found you anyway.

Rick would feel it was all his fault nonetheless, but all you could think about is how truly, it was your own, and no one’s at all.

The sun allows glints of wickedness to sparkle in the whites of Negan’s teeth as he continues imparts his demand, “From now on, don’t stop me when I’m giving an order, okay?” It’s like you can hear him underlining his words just with his darkened voice. Turning his waist, he extends his hand to everyone as he finishes, “And that goes for all of you.”

You force your face to remain leveled as he meets your eyes again, that cheshire look returning directly toward you. He curls his head to the side, whispering near your profile, “So… you’re his girl, huh?”

Your mouth becomes slightly agape. You don’t even realize it before you can try to close it. He asked the question of aversion, or at least that’s what you assumed it was to Daryl.

You knew it was just his way, that speaking about things like this might have not been his strong suit. Besides, there were more things to worry about almost all the time, but it still hurt to know that when asked, the only complete and honest answer there could be was no.

Your eyes trail down slowly, desperate to avoid his, and Daryl’s face— a few feet away from you— turning to the side, looking at nothing. He could not hear what was being asked, but maybe Rick did, Rosita and Gabriel too. It was unclear, but their eyes prodded with more tension, more worry, Daryl could register that, and even more so, he could not stand Negan’s face that close to yours; he was probably trying to make an advance on you, scare you, or both. He pretends not to care, but ultimately it’s useless. Negan detects your expression and turns to look at Daryl’s; he notices both failing attempts at impassivity.

“Oh,” he muses, voice returning to its normal volume, “or not, my bad…. I guess that does make more sense though.” He speaks louder now, casually, like he’s a close friend consoling you about your boy troubles, “I personally haven’t been able to hold a conversation with the guy either, and I’m just tryna be friends.”

Daryl was right. Negan was weaseling his way in. He snarls because of it.

Only Dwight hears this and sends him a warning glare.

You feel the sweat beading from your hairline to the nape of your neck. The danger felt from Negan’s presence was as thick as the sun’s heat that shone directly on the cemetery grove. It’s hard to look up and especially to look at him directly for that long as if he truly was the fire in the sky, so you look down again.

Negan pats your shoulder sympathetically, his hand then going to hold up your chin, his thumb tracing your jaw softly.

It makes Daryl’s arms twitch and his stance jerks forward, but he’s pushed back, Dwight beating him on the chest. It’s only once but you can hear it, everyone heard it.

It only makes Negan’s grin become more sly because— there it is— a reaction; an answer. It makes what he’s about to do that much more sweet: “Fuck, darlin’. I’m sorry. Idiot,” he tisks. Then more quietly he adds, “I’m not one though.”

This time it’s for sure: Rick caught that, and Rosita too. They give each other an alarming look as Negan continues to trail over your dispirited form, like a wilted flower. His hand lowers back down to your shoulder, then trails to your arm, to the elbow, and then off of you entirely.

Despite the feeling of Lucille under his grasp telling him he shouldn’t, Rick urges himself to speak before Negan says what they all know is coming. “Negan,” he starts, swallowing the slight shake in his voice, “would you like to see the pantry—”

“Did I ask you to speak, Rick?” Negan states, his frame still positioned in front of you. “I’m thinkin’ here… I’m thinkin’… particularly, that you should come with me.”

Daryl makes a sound that you couldn’t hear, for Dwight was already barking a “Shut up,” at him. Only the swat he gives to Daryl’s shoulder is what is once again heard by all.

You almost choke on your gasp, but you hold it in. Only letting out the faintest sound as you ask, “What?”

“You heard me,” he plainly says. “I mean, what do you even do here anyway?”

You almost felt embarrassed to answer.

“No, I’m askin’. Seriously. Does Rick actually utilize you?”

As you begin, your voice is still quiet, “I… I work in the garden, with the produce… I help tutor the kids… I go on runs, gather supplies. I cook. Help with weapons maintenance, I—” you stop, realizing your grocery list of jobs probably sounds pathetic to him, you’re like a chore boy, “— I do a lot. But everyone does.”

“Hm,” Negan responds, playing with his nails nonchalantly. Your thoughts come to fruition with his next words, “So you’re just everyone’s helper?”

He noticed the sad offense emanating from your eyes, so he raised his hands, “And those are important things to do, I mean it. It must mean you know quite a bit from everyone, that’s smart, and there’s no trouble in it. But… I saw you. I think you can do more.”

“How?” You can still only gasp out your words. “I’m not Maggie. And she’s not here.”

“No.” He brings up one finger, “But you’re clever,” you look at him confused as he brings up his middle finger to join the first, “and quick on your feet, that I now know.” A third and fourth finger comes up, “You’re strong, you’re loyal— things I’ve stated before.” Then the fifth he says with a smug smile, “And you’re a looker, I must admit.” He moves his hand to one side of his mouth, pretending to secretly tell you, “But that’s just a plus,” he winks. “And more importantly, it seems to me that just like most people in Prick’s community, you are undervalued and not paid attention to whereas I see potential.” He says it all so simply, he truly believes he’s offering you so much better that he finally ends by saying: “Hm. Yeah. I think you’ll be much better off with me.”

And so, with no true goodbyes said, in a van you went after Negan’s visit was done. A different one from Daryl’s, of course. Taken away from the first home you had in ages.

Before the trunk door closed, Negan gave you parting words: “You see?” He had said, “I told you I’d remember you, didn’t I?”

The words rang in your ears for the entire ride as they still do now, even more or less than two months later as you sit in his room.

Your heartbeat started to rise little by little as time went on and he hadn’t arrived. With the window allowing you to escape into thought, you were left to think about the last couple of days, and specifically, the last time you were in here:

You were sitting with him on his bed. You had asked if you could talk about anything other than the world you two lived in now, and surprisingly, he obliged. It was nice. Sometime later, he had finally opened that locked drawer.

You heard him suck his teeth, what he was getting seemed lost, which allowed you to take a closer peek inside.

There was a picture of a woman. The first wife? The only real one? You couldn’t tell and you wouldn’t ask, it would have been too much. You didn’t even get a good look at the woman anyway— part of her face was covered and he was fast. But he saw your eyes, so you decided to take note of the books you caught a glimpse of, pretending it was the only thing you saw. You try to think of something to say… It did make sense he was a reader, at least even mildly if that was all it was. The way he describes his ideals, his persuasiveness, his diction— it impressed you, even if you disagreed with a lot of it. It was almost ironic that the only cover you saw was of a dictionary, the more valuable ones probably hidden under. “Is that where you get all your big boy words from?” You asked.

“Some of them,” he joked back, composing himself.

It was strange to almost catch him off guard. It was so unlike him to allow it, but what happened next felt even more surprising.

Whatever he got from the drawer was enclosed in his hand. He put the free one on top of the other as he started, “Now… I don’t want you thinking I’m growing soft on you. I just thought you deserve it because—” and then his voice fades. Even Negan, the ever curse-filled wordsmith, was finding it hard to describe in any other way that he was pleased with something as absurd as you not trying to escape anymore. He knew you would probably think that was the only reason for a gift, but then he opted for something that even you couldn’t help but know was equally true, “You don’t seem to proactively hate me anymore. You’re here. I appreciate it, so I wanted to,” he says sincerely. “That’s all.”

Negan opened his hand, resting the piece in your palm— it was a locket; lovely and rusted floral engravings all over it.

You felt sad that you thought it was beautiful, and even worse for knowing the reasons why he was giving it to you. No wonder his voice had faltered.

You remember the soft shock and awe on your face, how you said thank you and how your face felt so hot when you said it, how he asked you to turn, and how you looked at him from behind you after he put the piece on. He was so close and it felt like he was coming closer. You don’t remember if that part was real, but you can see it so clearly that it must have been. Unfortunately, the only thing you remember for certain is that knock at the door that sent Negan away to handle whatever was going on downstairs.

Had you almost let him kiss you? Would you have liked it? Are you the most deplorable person for even thinking that while Daryl was somewhere else locked up at the time?

“I see they delivered my message.”

You return from your daze, your startle leaving as soon as it comes.

It was just him. There Negan finally was.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just come in. The door was unlocked.”

“I knew the meeting was gonna go longer than expected; thought you might as well make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to you, “which I see you did, and no—“ you were getting up from his bed, “it’s fine.” Negan sets Lucille near the door. He walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of his bed as well. There is a bit of distance between you two.

“You know, I came back the other day,” he informs, “I was actually going to talk to you last night, but then I heard you tried to leave. Again.” His eyebrows furrow, “We still on that?” He asks. “Thought we had a breakthrough the other night.”

“But after Carl—“

“—Carl,” he interjects, “came here all by his badass self, and for that, I did not lay even my pinky fuckin’ finger on him.” His hand goes to his chest, “I even took him home like a gentleman. And after I got here and found out they put you in a cell without supper, I had you back in your bed before midnight yesterday, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

“Seriously?” Your incredulity is hidden under the softness of your voice as you say it, but it’s cracking.

“As a heart attack. It’s your ex-people who don’t listen. At least I was nice this time.”

You sigh heavily, docility officially fading. You shake your head with a slight chuckle, “That’s hard to believe. Especially if you were gone for most of the day. I know what that means. You had whatever the fuck your version of fun is.”

He grits his teeth, holding his words back. You’ve gotten a little too comfortable with the back talk, and you especially shouldn’t be saying anything after the night you had yesterday, but he allows it.

This time.

Of course, he didn’t like you leaving, but he rather that it was Daryl who escaped than you. And based on the bruises: one on the side of your head, one high on your shoulder— he imagines you might have gotten pushed against a wall— and the light ones that littered in a couple of spots on both your arms— he could tell his men must have been rough with you as they brought you back. He didn’t like that; therefore, he lets you quip. Someone would be getting their own bruises for it some time later anyway. He would take your smartass mouth out on them to cover for it.

“Maybe,” he finally says. “Nothing was undeserved though.”

You breathe in, the back and forth was no use. “What happened yesterday?” You asked, losing the sarcasm. Your eyes peered into his for honesty, hoping to skip the sly replies and get to the truth. “Just tell me what happened at home.”

Home. You knew better than to use that word. In fact, you have just stopped using that word. He let out an exasperated laugh, but skipped the lecture. “You want the truth? Or just the SparkNotes?”

You roll your eyes lightly. You probably don’t even notice you did it. Despite the situation being discussed, it makes Negan’s head turn endearingly— your tone of voice, the things you say, the way you react to him… you still don’t realize how fresh you’ve gotten with him, how comfortable. But he sees it.

“Alright. Well, Spencer’s gone.” He reveals offhandedly, replying to your silence.

Your eyes do not widen, you know what gone means. You simply nod and try to not think about how the now-cleaned bat most likely looked before.

“And don’t tell me that you care,” he says, pretending to interject to your continuing silence. “You gotta know he was a small dick nepo-prick, right?”

You bite the inside of your lip, shaking your head slightly. You won’t give in to a cheap joke even if it was pretty accurate, so he beckons you by name, “C’mon, that was funny.”

Still, you give him nothing.

He sighs; taking off his leather; and sits near you on the bed, his hands cupping the ledge. “Thought we were finally over this quiet thing.”

“A lot has happened this week.”

“Like…” he prodes. He would only talk about it if you brought it up.

Your eyes shut tightly before opening again. You didn’t want to say it, but you had to. “You know what. Daryl.”

He states the fact plainly, “Daryl left you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice is fierce now. You can’t believe it. You won’t. “He’s not that kind of person and this isn’t an easy place to get out of— I obviously know that— he wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I know,” he jeers, “but he did and he didn’t bring you with him. Even though you were found trying to find his cell. That’s some real idiotic bullshit right there, isn’t it? From both of you.”

You glared at him hotly, you wouldn’t give it up, but unfortunately you had no rebuttal. Both of you would just continue on with the same argument, the conversation going nowhere. And not because either side knew they were completely right; in truth, neither of you actually knew what happened the other day. But in this regard, you felt there was no other choice: you believed in Daryl fully.

Because he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Right?

You continue shaking your head, trying to find something to say in retaliation as you feel your sureness withering. Separating you two was the smartest tactic. You now have nothing to hold onto. “He wouldn’t,” you repeat pathetically, “I don’t believe you.” Unfortunately it’s not quite enough, so he continues with a rant you know all too well.

“You don’t believe me?” He cups the ends of the bed more tightly, positioning himself closer to you. “When I’m the one who gave you the safest roof? Secure food, clean water, access to all these pretty dresses, which, I know you’ve become accustomed to—” and here it comes— “I saved you!”

Saviors and their “saving,” you sneered at it. What bullshit. “You didn’t save me.”

“But I gave you someone to talk to… Huh?” He taunts, waiting for your response but nothing comes. He uses it to his advantage, “You’re quiet cause you know it’s true.”

But you know something too. He says it before you can.

“Or fuck, maybe I just gave myself someone to talk to.”

You pretend you can’t hear the earnesty in it. “Stop,” you scoff. “Don’t treat me like I’m special. I was the second choice.”

“I think with my dick sometimes. You’re the only choice.”

You start to shake your head, your face is flushed; scared, hot, and a little bit of something else that you refuse to let out. Then the tears come— the room feels so big and you two are so close and there are so many feelings you’re trying to push down. “It doesn’t matter,” you say wearily, “You took me. And you took him. You hurt him, I saw his face.” Your voice begins to tremble, almost in unison with the tears that peak out on your eyelids. “And that outfit you put him in. He didn’t even look me in the eye.”

“Stop,” he warns.

“You didn’t even let me see him.”

“He doesn’t notice you.”

“You don’t know us.”

“I know you.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know you’re not happy… What about the other night?”

You ignore him, shaking your head: “You hurt my friends.”

“What about the other night?” He persists, his voice slowly growing louder. “What about every time I let you sit in on my meetings? What about how you have your own room? What about how I actually talk to you?”

“You let him get hurt—” the tears start to fall, there is a quiver in your voice but you still match his near shout, “And you almost killed Carl—”

“Shut up.”

“And you killed Abraham—”

He warns you by name.

“And Glenn! Maggie’s husband—”

“SHUT. UP.”

“The baby won’t have a father, Negan!”

His voice is low and grim as he demands you to “Stop. Now.” Negan grabs the sides of your neck as he says his next line, it comes out brisk and harsh and heavy like his touch as his hand wraps around your neck. “I knew you lied to me.”

Your voice is hushed, feeling his lightly pressed thumbs on the front of your throat as you speak shakily, “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Maybe not since you’ve been here, but did you hear yourself right now?” He pauses, allowing you a second to let it sink in. “You just fucking proved it.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. The baby, you had said. Fuck.

“See? Told you, you were smart.”

And he did. Brave Maggie. Clever you. That was his reason number one.

“You have to get why.”

His voice remains eerily calm. “I do.”

Another tear falls and his thumb presses its pad under your eye, spreading a tear on your face as the next one comes down.

“Negan…” you say. It’s a mix of a warning and a plea but you can’t tell for what, both fear and fire mix together because of his proximity. His touch and stare was dangerous, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was pleased he caught your slip up, thrilled to see you cry, but there was also something about it— his touch, his eyes— that was equally intoxicating. There was something more tender there as well, something you didn’t want to turn away from, he wasn’t as rough as you thought. Nonetheless, your answer to these conflicting feelings are ones of neglect, you stay your course. “You’re a bad person,” you tell him.

“Please,” he whispers back, “just stop.”

His eyes glaze over your features with an intent look you’ve only seen once before, it was that other night in fact. It’s almost gentle, but maybe it’s just pity, so you don’t let it stop you. “But you are.”

“Stop,” he pleads, then it’s hushed, “just stop…” he says, “just stop.” Then he starts coming closer. “Tell me to stop.”

And you know you should get up.

You should, you should, you should, you know it but— you don’t.

You breathe into it.

His lips latch onto yours; your heads tilt; you lock perfectly.

Everything after happens fast, the instantaneous mess of it all: he waited and waited, and of course he would. He was waiting for you to see it, to feel it. He thought the other night was the breakthrough, but no, it was tonight, it was how you didn’t back away just now.

His hand goes lower on your leg, nearing your knees so he can get under your dress, trailing up your thigh, reaching the inner side that’s pressed up to the other one.

His hand on your neck brings you in closer, traveling up to under your chin and jaw, holding you so tight, but so sweetly. All you felt was surprise. He slips his tongue in, it's deep and intense. He brings a velvet warmth that you’d never expect from him. It was paradoxical; a fiery heaven of a feeling.

He starts rubbing your clit over your panties, kissing his way up to your ear as he does so to ask, “When’s the last time someone’s fucked you?”

Your lips are parted, but you cannot speak, so he continues.

“Daryl never did, did he?” He asks in a muffle, continuing to kiss and kiss. “Who was before him?”

Again, no verbal response, but your breath does hitch at his touches. He continues to draw circles, your wetness now slowly dampening the material, making it easier for his finger to place itself between your folds, so he dips his hand under the band. That and his whispering makes you feel a kind of spark that shoots all the way down to where his fingers are touching. The first press of his thumb without any material in between forces a sudden heat to rise that instantly causes a flush of liquid to slip down your hole, it feels messier than it actually is until his fingers go lower spreading it everywhere. You were much wetter than you thought, and you can’t help how good it feels, how easily you’re responding to it.

Negan calls your name, holding in every cocky reply he wanted to give about how wet you are— he needed an answer to his question first. So he looks you in the face, making sure he has your full attention, “You’re fuckin’ with me, right?” His words are meant more genuinely than his tone implies. “Not at all during any of this?”

You shake your head small and slowly. No.

He laughs pitifully, he doesn’t mean it rudely, but he just can’t help it. A touch-starved baby at the mercy of his fingertips? “Well, god-damn.”

He felt like a rich man.

He begins to kiss your lips again, now pumping his fingers into you. Your walls tighten. It’s only two, but they’re his. It’s new and exciting. His kiss makes you lean into the bed, the force of his head and tongue going deeper into your mouth guiding you to lay flat as his fingers still play.

“I hope you know how fucking soaked you are,” he finally says. “You need it so bad that it feels this damn good with me only touching you like this?” You can’t help the way your body jerks up and he can’t help but be smug about it. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Your eyes grow vicious at his grin, you almost want to hit him, but you can’t. All you can do is suppress your moan into a quiet whine. He’s so magnetic— his touch feels forbidden but so right; his voice so alluring; and his midas touch pulls you deeper and deeper into a trance, you might as well be turning into gold. Other than the involuntary reactions your body makes as his fingers continue going into your hole, now slowly going in and out as his eye gloss over your body in your favorite dress that you wore the most, you’re left paralyzed; subjected to following his lead. Wherever he wanted to go next, you’d let him.

He takes his fingers from inside of you and you look up quickly. You made sure not to whine at the loss of contact but your eyes couldn’t hide your dismay. All he did was smile and quickly lick away the wetness.

“Just takin’ this off,” he tells you as his hands cross over to the ends of his white t-shirt, slipping it off and onto the ground, one of those small rope chains hitting his chin as he does so.

It was only his shirt but you’re struck by him: to see more of his ever present sun-kissed skin felt almost godly. He was pretty lean, not too lanky like his stature, but not too broad either. Light curves of muscles adorned his chest and shoulders and arms. His chest and abdomen were slightly hairy, a tattoo placed on the upper right side and you finally saw the other tattoos placed on his upper arms more clearly. They looked nice on him. He was so handsome. You felt more wetness peeking out from down below. He looked so big above you.

“Like what you see, beautiful?” That typical snark still laced his voice, but there was a genuinity to it as well. He wanted you to like what you saw; to like him.

His words make your face hot, eyes casting off to the side. It was easier to talk to him when you were mad at him, when it was about home, even just small talk about the Sanctuary; this felt… different. Just like the other night.

You had almost already forgotten that his charm worked this way too; in a kinder way— when his eyes are wide, when his smile is soft, when he calls you sweet names without the irreverent, quip-filled pretenses.

It made you have all the words on the tip your tongue: how handsome and sexy you could say he is, how much you liked his tattoos, even all the greys that littered his hair and beard l, or how, if you had to admit it, you liked that dumb shit-eating grin of his, but all you can do is lightly smile, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at your bashfulness. You finally nod. “Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes, “maybe.”

He starts undoing his belt with a laugh of his own, “Oh I know you’re a fuckin liar if you think I’m a maybe.”

As his pants drop to the floor he takes each hand and places them over your shoulders on the bed to ask, “May I take off the lady’s dress?”

Your eyes widened, your open mouth only letting out a sweet, surprised, and whispered, “Huh?”

“What? Didn’t expect me to be a gentleman?”

You try to compose yourself, calm the fire you feel all throughout your body, and pretend you haven’t already given in completely right when he kissed you. “I just didn’t expect it would be all this slow.”

He laughs inwardly, glad to see the personality he came to know come back after all that happened these past two days. “Just give me a moment,” he jokes back. “You think I’m gonna waste seeing the reaction of you watching my cock spring out just so I can shove it in fast? ” He comes closer, his voice lowers now, “Believe it or not, I don’t think you’re just some doll or a fuck-piece.” The groundedness of his voice is something you’ve never heard before. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already stated that I see you. And truly, I think you’re damn gorgeous.”

Your eyes are stars. How can you even react? He thinks you’re gorgeous and you’re taken aback. “Thank you,” is all you can quietly say.

“You’re welcome.” He responds with eyes that have never looked so honest, so soft. You get lost in them and he has to pull you back, returning to his question, “May I?”

You nod, quick and excitedly, “You can take it off, Negan.”

He grabs your hands and stands you up. You look up at his face and his fingers move to the ends of your dress, pulling it over your head.

The tips of his fingers trace your chest and stomach lightly, delicately touching your skin as if it’s porcelain. He grabs your waist and travels up to take off your bra, then pushes down your wet underwear.

Negan’s cock stirs at the sight, you’re so pretty and so ready for him. “And I didn’t even need to see it to know I was right.” Just like he said, you’re gorgeous.

Negan pushes down his boxers. Cock springing up. Big and veiny with a red tip. He was itching to get inside of you.

And there you were, eyes and mouth open wide, scared and excited all at once. You were intimidated but surprisingly not scared if it would fit or not. You would let him do anything to get himself inside of you, even if it hurt.

“There it is,” he says, pleased with your reaction. He comes closer to your ear now, pushing you down by the hips against the bed once more. “And trust me, if you like that, you won’t fucking believe how I’ll feel inside of you. Just wait.”

“I…” He wanted to make you feel good, you’re almost speechless. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He says, and then he places himself above you, admiring your glistening folds as he spreads your legs. He already lines himself up, he could look at you forever but he is in no desire to wait any longer. He pushes in. It’s a bit fast, a tight fit, it must have hurt you, but he’s too excited, he can’t help it. He lets out a hum and then a groan at the feeling of your walls enclosing him, and he hears you gasp at his size. He starts to pump into you immediately.

His face hovers over yours. His eyes study your features and he realizes he’s never been this close. Of course he hasn’t, he’s never fucked you, made love to you. He’s just now noticing the way your eyelashes curl, what birthmarks adorn your upper body or not, and how many earrings you may have, but most importantly, he’s noticing the way you react to him: the way your eyebrows might scrunch, or what elicits more pants and squirmings, the way your lips tug tightly against each other or open into ovals and circles depending on what he does, how he thrusts, where he touches, how he moves.

It all makes him slowly speed up. He can’t take it anymore. He kisses your neck and jaw— some kisses sweet, then others that are rough and he begins to pump and pump. Faster and faster.

“Oh,” you choke out before moaning, “ah.”

He continues, loving every facial expression you make until he finally speaks. “Alright. I gave you a break— now tell me how it feels?”

All you can do is whine incoherently.

“Excuse me?” He says more sternly. You know what he wants.

“Negan,” you whine again.

He stops. “Yes?” He asks all too knowingly. “Gonna use your words and tell me how it feels?”

You sigh, taking the hand placed on your hip and moving up toward the ends of your stomach, all the way up to your left breast. You let his hand rest there, feeling the heat and your quickened heartbeat radiating from the area. “You… you feel so good.” Your eyes are watery, “Amazing.”

You got him there, and he almost can’t help but start hammering it in, but then he remembers… he doesn’t have to help it. He could do whatever he wanted, so he does. He squeezes your breast, grinning wildly as he gives you one hard thrust. “Damn right,” he tells you, hearing your yelp before pounding fast.

You had always been quiet but he never quite saw you at a loss for words as you are now. Your mouth is completely open, your eyes threatening to roll back further, making sounds he’s sure you’ve never heard from yourself before. Have you even had it this fast? This big? This great? He knows it couldn’t be. And he’s the one who gets to show you. His eyes gloss over you with pride at the thought.

He grabs your chin to get you to look at him, “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You moan. You weren’t used to this. Your eyes roll back completely as he pounds into you with eye contact.

It makes him groan loudly, his jerks into you, letting out his own moan from the sight. “Oh fuck, baby. Don’t play with me.”

You give in, force yourself to speak, you can’t let this end. “You, Negan!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes!” It’s so hard to speak, it comes out so pathetically.

“Who's making you feel like no one else?”

“You, Negan, it’s you!” Your moan turns into a pant, “It’s you, only you.”

He comes closer, his nose touches yours. His movements slow, but they don’t stop. He’s rocking into you now. “Only me?”

You don’t even think, “Who else? It's only you.”

His teeth sparkle, “Only me.”

“Only you, daddy.”

He laughs cockily, “So Daddy’s making you feel this good?”

“Yes, daddy. So good.”

You feel the groan he makes travel right to your clit, making it throb.

He kisses you, the corners of your lips to your cheek and neck and collarbones and back up again.

He restarts his pumping into you but his head remains close to yours. You decide to wrap one of your arms around his neck, pulling his hair, and the other hand travels down his back, holding him close.

Negan breathes you in, his head near the crux of your neck, hearing every little sweet sound you make that he’s never heard before. It all drives him wild, but then his eyes open. A question comes out that surprises you both: “Am I ruining your life right now?” He quietly asks.

“That doesn’t matter,” you say, breathing heavily from his touches, your eyes are still closed.

“I think it does.”

“You make me feel like no one ever has…” The bliss you feel from his current soft strokes and touches making it hard to speak, your voice is so light. “At least I got to experience it.” You open your eyes now, fingers tracing the cross drawn into his arm, “At least I got to see the real you.”

Your eyes say more than your words do. There’s a yearning and a sadness, an answer to what feels right in this moment, but an insight that there are doubts that could creep up later the more that you think about it.

“Just keep going,” you tell him, “I want to see you.”

You want to see him, you do see him. His head connects with yours again, and you moan into each other's mouths as he keeps pumping. Your legs come up to his hips and you’re not afraid to be loud anymore, to tell him how good it feels, how much you like him.

He takes your hands and places them over your head, crossing his fingers with your. It’s so pure, so lovely even when he’s going so hard down below. You hear your breaths heavy and your bodies slapping and the bed shaking.

You think about his skin, and his scratchy beard against yours, and the way you hate how he can make you smile by making the most ridiculous and raunchy jokes, and the way you love his voice, the way you can’t help but to like the way he cares for you.

“Negan,” you say weakly.

“Yes,” he responds intently.

“I’m gonna come,” you tell him. “I think I can.”

“Come for me,” he encourages, moving one of his hands down to rub your clit. “C’mon.”

“I’m gonna come,” you repeat, edging yourself on. Bucking up at his thrusts and his fingers.

“You can do it. Be a good girl. Do it for me.”

You swear the fireplace blazes louder and bigger, lighting up the whole room as you yell out, moaning once more as you orgasm.

Negan finally breaths out after, holding in for so long, and comes after you. His hands place themselves flat on the bed and he pushes in fast, riding out the high.

He scoops you up immediately, holding you in his arms. He doesn’t want to let go.

You two stay there for a moment until you look up. His hand caresses your face, “What is it?”

“I…” you were embarrassed to admit that you weren’t ready for it to all be over yet. “Can I ride you?”

A wiley smile appears on his face. He has to admit, he’s a little shocked you’re ready to go again, but he’d never turn it down. “Well, of course you can, babygirl.”

He flips you over, completely ready, but instantly, you become hesitant, almost overwhelmed. He was the world, not you, yet you were now above him. All the allowance to touch him anywhere you want at your disposal.

He puts his hands under his head, arms flexing. An ever wide smile present as he waits for you to begin. “You asked for it. Don’t get shy on me now.”

Your eyes grow excited again, deciding not to hold back, and you start to rock against him. You place you hands on his chest, feeling him up, touching his biceps, hands going over his tattoos— you could stare at them, at him, for hours. You honestly think you’d lick his whole body if he’d let you. And of course he probably would. To feel big and proud and irresistible while you look like a little desperate freak? You wouldn’t even have to ask him twice. Thinking about it and about how full his cock is making you feel, stretching and reaching all the right places, makes you moan and whine. You bucked your hips wildly, humming and giving him “mmms” because of how yummy it feels. You could do this forever.

“Ah- uh- Negan,” you moan and your stomach caves as you whine again and you hurl forward, continuing to rock but your pace is faltering. It’s becoming too hard and Negan can tell so he takes you by the hips, helping you move. First continuing to let your grind and then pushing you up and down his shaft so you can bounce on him. You push yourself up again, hand on his chest, pushing against it and you bounce along with his help. This was fun. You try to go faster and faster. It felt like being a kid on a playground.

“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look at who you’re fucking, sweetheart.”

So you do, and moan at the sight of him, “Ohmygod,” you say. “You’re so handsome, Negan.”

He's so proud of you. Enjoying your actions, enjoying your noises. He groans as he sees your breast bounce and it makes you squeeze against him.

“Good girl,” he coos, “finally listening when you’re spoken to, about to make yourself come on daddy’s cock again.”

He starts to rub your clit again and you continue to bounce. It almost hurts because of how overstimulated you’ve become but you don’t tell him to stop. Your hands come to reach the headboard, helping you bounce harder. He tells you again how much of a good girl you are, how he loves that you’re not stopping, then he tells you how dirty and desperate you are for wanting him again after he already made you come. But he’s obsessed. This is all he’s ever wanted since the day he brought you here. His hands trail up from your hips to your waist and breast and back down again. There is nothing more he wants than to fuck you or for you fuck him.

You look down. You both notice your necklace still wrapped around your neck, almost nearing between your breasts, bouncing along with all of you. It reminds you of why you're here, why he gave it to you. It makes you have the realization he had… Was he ruining your life? Were you ruining your own? But how could you be when it all feels this good? It was completely screwed up, but everything felt so magnificently brilliant. His touch is everything, his voice is everything, his body is everything. It makes your hips stutter, it makes you moan, and at last, it makes you come again. You ride your high, going and going and going until you fall into his chest. His hands come to hold you tight thereafter.

Unthinkable bliss is all that is felt for a long moment… then… your head turns to the window. You remember what is out there and what isn’t in here.

A tear falls down your cheek and he realizes what’s happening when it falls onto his shoulder.

It hurts him now. To see you cry. It’s not fun anymore. You feel it, yes. You see what he saw, it’s true. But you aren’t really his wife. You’re nothing that is his at all. You both know that as well.

It takes you a long time to speak, you have to force yourself, but you do. “You have to let me go now.” You say it sternly but there is a sadness to it; a small part of you wants to not mean it even though you completely do, even though you do wish to stay here, to be enveloped by his embrace— you simply cannot forget.

“Mm,” he shakes his head, remaining leveled, “you know too much.”

“I barely know anything,” you say. “And not that anything I do know matters. Knowing the way around the Sanctuary isn’t going to help anyone when I know there is no way we could actually get in…. And what’s more important anyway is that I’m not changing my mind and you’re not either.”

“I’m not.”

“And I can’t. I wouldn’t. And they’re not going to. Never…. And if some of them die…” A whimper almost leaves you but you manage to swallow it, “I have to be by their side, Negan. I can’t only hear about it. I… I can’t see it next to you.”

His lips are pressed firm, his jaw is fixed and tight, almost like he’s grinding down on his teeth. The breath he takes through his nose could be a heavy sigh if he opened his mouth, but he doesn’t. He keeps it all in.

You words and their weight hang in the air for a moment before he finally speaks: “One of my guys that watches the armory doors has a shift that ends at 6:00 am… but at 5:50 I’m going to come up to him and tell him he gets off 10 minutes early that day, that I’ll wait for the next person to come.” He lets his words hang in the air for a moment, your confusion spirals before he keeps going. “It’ll be fucking weird, but he’ll look dumb as shit if he questions me, so he won’t. Then when he’s out of sight, I’ll leave. The next person is coming right at 6. That’s all you get. 10 minutes. A little less really.”

Your eyes round slowly as the stun continues to sink in. He’s… letting you leave.

“You take one gun and one knife. Just one. Don’t make it noticeable. I’m going to check. Then you go out of the back door that’s inside.” He didn’t have to tell you the way. “It should be easy, I know you’ve tried it before.”

You look down, taking in all he says, but then he turns you face to meet his, “If anyone sees you, I’m gonna have to make a show of it when they bring you back. Not what I want. But if I get there before you get out, maybe 5:58, just cause I’m an asshole, just to see you one last time… And if I do, I’m gonna turn you around and you’re stayin’. Fair?”

You nod. It’s small and light. You don’t question any of it, you can’t. “8 minutes.” You respond.

“8 minutes.” His voice is neutral, but underneath there was a tinge of solemnity to it. “8 minutes,” he says under his breath.

“What about now?”

“Now?” He asks. He didn’t think about it. He assumed you would want to go after this, after you got what you wanted. “Well,” he turns to his nightstand, “right now it’s half past 10.” He stares at you for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. This whole moment has felt so quiet, both eerie and gentle. You still weren’t used to the latter from him, even after what just happened. “You can go if you want. Sleep in your bed for one more night, or…” he stops, “You can stay with me, if you’d like.” His sigh is short and whispered but you both hear it, you feel its weight. “It’s your choice.”

You stare at each other for a moment. Your eyes trail all of his face and the arm that is still holding your own, adorned with all the tattoos and skin you had just fallen for. You wanted to study them and hold onto him forever. And his eyes: they said so much— there were so many little inflections, ones that you had finally read, and so many others you’ve yet to decipher. You desired to know him, but you had to go, so all you decided to do was to hold him. For now, you chose to stay, and hoped that your embrace would transfer the fact that the only reason it would be hard to leave is because of him and only him. You would remember this forever. “8 hours till 8.”

“8 hours till 8, kid.”

You close your eyes tight and nuzzle into his chest, A peace you had never known in the Sanctuary finally subsumed you. You feel free to finally tell him, “Thank you. I really do miss home.”

Home. There it is again. There was no malice in the way you said it, but there was still a pang from your melancholy words that made his heart throb. You missed home. And as peaceful as you looked, and as safely as you held onto him, your words reaffirmed that home was not here and it was not with him— no matter how you looked, and no matter the fact that you were allowing him to hold you for the night, to call you his. In the end, you were not.

He had to finally accept it.

“8 hours till 8,” are your last words until you finally drift to sleep. This would be your last and most tranquil night here. To you, it felt right, almost harmonious, albeit sad. This is how it was and how it was meant to be. You needed it.

But to him, it’s shattering. He doesn’t repeat the phrase back this time because, for once, he has nothing to say. The fire glow of the night has now withered into darkness.

You won.

He lost.

But both your hearts broke.

[jadestwdd]

Okay y’all, hear me out…

So we all know that I don’t think Daryl Dixon is a dominant person during sex. But once in a while he will be a little bit dom. so here are a few things that think about daryl when it comes to intimacy and or close situations like it….

Warnings: SMUT SMUT AND SMUT

DOM: Daryl Dixon is a man who will be able to make you cum in seconds. So when he’s in the mood, he will be ready to take control of the situation and make you mould like potty in his hands. Every once in a while he will be in control. He likes to be VERRY close and sweet.

Example: when he is in this mood, he will will either make you cum until you are melting into the ground or mattress. He doesn’t like to call you a ‘slut’ or ‘whore’, he will praise you and talk you through it. He will say things like

‘Such a good girl…my girl…my good girl…’

‘almost there baby, you can do it…I know you can.’

‘One more time, just one more time…cum round my cock one more time…your doing so good baby girl…cum again for me…’

He is sweet and not mean. He also doesn’t like to be called daddy, like it’s just clear that he doesn’t like it. However…he may have a mommy kink….we’ll get into that later…..

SUB: Daryl Dixon loves to be a bottom, he likes to surrender and be made to feel like he’s small. Even though he doesn’t admit it, he loves it. After a long day and he’s really tired, we wants to make you feel good and he wants you to make him forget about what happened outside the four walls of your bedroom. He loves to be marked on his chest and thighs, like hickeys. (HE HATES ALMOST ANY TYPE OF PAIN), he’ll beg you to make sure everyone knows not to come and try hit on him because he knows he’s yours. He is also verry vocal as in he whimpers, grunts, moans and even cry’s… sometimes he’ll even beg you to make him cum.

Example:

‘Please…please…let me…I’m a good boy, ima…ima…’

He’ll trail off and start to whimper as you lift off of his oh so sensitive and overstimulated cock because he wouldn’t use his big boy words.

——

‘Ahhh…fuck….oh god….make me cum…h-hard….make me cum hard….i promise I’ll be on my…best behaviour…..’

——

When he’s about to cum, a few dozen times you’ve heard him say…mommy….

‘Daryl almost there sweetie, you can cum in a second baby boy…’

You sigh as you chase your high, but he can’t take it anymore. Like a switch, he jerks his hips up forward and…

‘Mommy~’

He moans as he spills inside of you.

Afterwards he is very embarrassed but you assure him it’s okay and you won’t talk about anything he doesn’t want to.

—-

KINKS: what kinks does he have? Well my friends it’s quiet clear that Daryl has a teeny mommy kink. It’s VERRY rare but once in a while you will use it to your advantage, you’ll get him to say ‘I’m sorry mommy’ or ‘mommy please…’ when he begs or does something wrong. He also likes a tiny bit of ownership…he likes everyone to know that you are his, aka he doesn’t want anyone else touching you and vise versa. He wants everyone to know he wants no one else but you. PRAIS!!! he loves to praise you when he is in control but he also likes to be called things like ‘good boy’ or whatever. Daryl is always up to try something new as in positions or toys. But he never likes to use whips or anything that can hurt you or him. MABIE he would bite your earlobe or neck a little but nothing that will actually hurt you. He loves vibratiors on you, he likes to make you squirm and squirt. You like to make him squirm underneath you as you hold the tip of the bullet to his cock.

BELLOW THE BELT AMD BODY HAIR: so Daryl Dixon is big!!!. When he’s soft he is around 6-7 inches and when he’s hard he’s 8-9… he is un-cut and his tip is verry sensitive. he also likes to trim up every few months just to he looks neat but he doesn’t shave if that makes sense? he has hairy legs obi and a few hairs between his eyebrows but not berry noticeable. He doesn’t give a shit about how much you shave? He doesn’t care if you shave or not. He also reassures you about you being insecure about if your smelly or dirty.

SCARS: if you have self harm scars, he will kiss them for hours, if you have stretch marks he will kiss them for hours and so on… the first time he let you see his scars, you where in the shower and he started crying, so you kissed his back and chest and arms, also leaving a couple hickeys there to. But after a while, he got used to you being okay with them so he would also wear no shirt around the house if he was in the mood.

PUBLIC AFFECTION: Daryl doesn’t really show much affection in public but he will sometimes hold your hand or let you lean on his shoulder. If he’s going out on a long run, you will kiss him but other than that he doesn’t really show any affection. he doesn’t like sex in public either, he wants those times to feel special and safe.

FAVE POSITIONS: he loves cowgirl, missionary, and you even tried the Amazon position once but he didn’t like it. He loves anything that makes you two feel close and safe.

RANDOM: Daryl definitely loves you to sit on his face. He sometimes likes to just sit in-front of you and hold a vibratior to you while you tease him with a nother one.

——

Thats saul-0-

PLEASE LEAVE REQUESTS FOR ANY FICS YOU WANT!!!!



[dixonsgirl93]

Daryl Dixon as a Dominant would include:

(Everything mentioned is consensual)

(Also slight no-apocalypse AU mentioned)

Daryl Dixon would be a soft Dom.

He’d claim to hate brats and their attitude but secretly enjoy their energy.

When he’d reach his limit of receiving bratty behaviour, he’d growl “enough” and grab your throat as a warning.

He’d be a dry asf texter, preferring to talk on FaceTime or talk in person.

His dominance would hardly show over text. So much so that you don’t take him seriously which you end up being punished for later.

He’s not too rough with you, disliking most sadomasochistic acts, except a light spanking.

Aftercare would be amazing, he’d hold you in his arms for hours after, tending to anywhere you’d got sore.

He’d have Dominant’s guilt, again because he hates hurting you but knowing you enjoy it and having you reassure him all the time, makes it easier on him.

During regular activities, he likes to make sure you’re fed and looked after, wordlessly handing you food and giving you a stern look when it seems like you refuse it.

If he’s not cuddled up with you at night, he likes to stay close by, not wanting to risk anything happening to you while you’re asleep.

He’d encourage you to communicate any and all of your needs, whether he can meet them or not.

You would be his prince(ss). No one would treat you better and despite the fact he has trouble communicating and opening up, being with you and encouraging you to do it, encourages himself to do it more. Which makes him a better partner.

He talks about you and your relationship as if you’ve been together forever, as if you’re already married. When other people talk about you as a couple, they often say you’re like an old married couple.

Which leads him to casually mentioning marriage one day, wanting to know your thoughts before he made any plans (although he had already started making a ring for you).

When sitting together alone or in a meeting, he’d always put his hand in yours or on your thigh, the physical sensation of you keeps his head collected. If you’re here, you’re safe.

One thing he would often do, which you saw as a punishment, would be to refuse you certain things unless you drank water e.g. coffee, alcohol, sex, kiss etc.

He talks you through it, in his deep, gravelly, sexy voice and he loves it more by your reactions to it, smirking smugly and riling you up.

He says “use your words, prince/ss. Tell me what you want and how you want it. There’s a good girl/boy.”

[theteasetwrites]

Healing Touch | Part 2

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—bathtub sex (slippery, I know), handjob, fingering, missionary, str8 people sex, oral sex (m receiving), ball stuff (?), praise kink (!!!), dom(ish?) Daryl, language, mentions of injury ❧ Word Count: 9.1k

❧ Summary: Daryl returns for his follow-up appointment for his injuries, and this time, he's not leaving without the special treatment you so boldly promised him.

❧ A/N: Finally! I think this is my second most requested sequel, after Soft Spot (which I WILL make a part 3 for...). Sorry it took me like over a year to do this lol but I hope it was worth the wait! I simply had to write a smut piece for the sequel because the sexual tension was through the roof. I mean Daryl sported a big boner throughout the first one so... It was inevitable that this would happen. Also I realize Daryl might be slightly OOC here (I made him kind of more confident than I usually write him), but also, I feel like Daryl actually would get kind of confident once he gets in the mood. I mean he definitely does have his nervous moments here, but I like writing confident Daryl making the first move. Also I realize bathtub sex probably isn't all that great irl but a girl can dream ok? Plus any kind of sex with Daryl is amazing to think about, let's be real. Enjoy!

He could’ve changed the bandages himself, but maybe you wanted another excuse to touch him. Well, there was no maybe about it. That was your plan.

You wondered if maybe you’d been too bold by suggesting you could “help him out” the next time he got a hard-on, but then again, you took the opportunity to shoot your shot, and he still agreed to come to the office today and let you change his bandages. 

That night, you hadn’t been able to get to sleep for a few hours after settling into bed. Though you tried to clear your mind, you couldn’t shake the thoughts that had formed in your head since that day. Daryl’s body was beautiful to you, even if it had been covered in road rash from his crash. It only made you want to touch him more, to heal his wounds so he wouldn’t have to feel the burning of the dirt digging into his skin. 

Even as you touched yourself, fingertips getting more and more desperate and moving frantically towards pleasure, you thought about him. The comforting weight of his broad body on top of you, thrusting and panting and grunting and groaning and—

“Oh, Daryl…” Finally a wave of vibrations, a swell of bliss, a series of tiny, breathtaking shocks… “Yes… Yes…. Oh, yes!”

In the hazy images that played in your pounding head, you saw his half-lidded eyes blinking softly at you as his own body became overwhelmed with the release your body had granted him. With his thick, work-worn fingers tangled through your hair, he let out a grunt and sunk his head into your neck, where his open lips pursed to drag a sloppy, tongue-heavy kiss across your skin. 

The ghost of his body over you, you writhed in pleasure between sweat-soaked sheets. You swore you could hear the man’s gravelly whisper in your ear, the sound of your name on his lips, in his low, honeyed voice. 

You imagined him still inside you, keeping you warm and filled. Your fingers, though, were hardly an adequate substitute for the real thing. When you saw the “problem” growing in his underwear yesterday, you could just barely make out the length—substantial, and very tempting. Even his thickness made you instinctively swallow hard, with a nervous lip bite that nearly broke through the sensitive skin of your lips. 

Two fingers weren’t enough, so you’d tried for three, and that seemed to feel more like what you imagined he would, opening you up almost to the point of discomfort, but quickly soothing you the deeper he went, soon hitting a spot inside you that had your other hand tightly clawing at the bedsheet. 

Several minutes of straining, thrusting hard against the palm of your hand as the fingers inside you curled and pulsed impatiently. When the pressure became too much, you felt release again, and now, in your mind, Daryl nestled his head between your bare breasts, with hands pawing at the supple tissue. 

When his mouth moved to suction around your nipple, you imagined his sleepy bedroom eyes tilted back up at you, admiring your lips as they fell open, and a breathy moan escaped into the night air.

“Daryl…”

Sleep had so rudely interrupted your bliss, ripping you from the man’s embrace to plunge you into a restless, dreamless slumber. Perhaps it was for the best. After all, in your heart of hearts, you knew it couldn’t work out. Daryl was a patient, and you shouldn’t have been so forward with him, even if it was some kind of half-serious joke. 

Would he even come to the office the next day? 

You busied yourself with whatever tasks you could find—disinfecting the counter, reading up on Pete’s appointment notes, preparing prescriptions… 

Only a small handful of patients passed through. Little Nina came in with a scraped knee, Mr. Treneman had a routine checkup, and Ms. Sherman picked up a new inhaler for her asthma, but no Daryl. 

But he was across the street, watching the last patient leave the house. 

His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, eyes narrowed as he tried to spot you. He felt like a pervert, standing there, waiting for his moment. 

Of course, he didn’t even know what his moment was. He could still hardly believe the things you said yesterday, and how he somehow flirted back. Whatever it was about you, it emboldened him, made him… confident. 

Well, as confident as he could be, considering most days he didn’t think much of himself at all. Still, you could ignite something in him, and he’d only felt a taste of it yesterday, with that small burst of confidence which promised you he’d return today, with the hopes of changing his bandages and cleaning his wounds once again.

Your touch hadn’t left him. Of course, the physical feeling wasn’t there, but the feeling you left inside him remained. There was a roaring fire in his belly when he saw you, and there was no quelling it. 

As he made his way across the street, hands anxiously stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, he made a promise to himself in his head: if he got… excited again, he wasn’t going to hide it. He was either going to wait for you to make a move, or make one himself. Either way, he was mentally preparing himself for rejection, but also… sex. Just in case.

When the bell on the door chimed delicately, signaling that someone was making their way into the doctor’s office, you straightened your back in your swivel chair, dropping your pencil to subconsciously fix your hair and smooth your plaid wool skirt. Looking at your oversized cable knit sweater, you pulled off a few cotton “fuzzies” as you cleared your throat before calling out, “Be right there!”

Please be Daryl, please be Daryl, please be Daryl, please be Daryl… The phrase was repeated like a mantra in your head. It was strange, though, because although you desperately wanted it to be Daryl, to see him and to take care of him again, another part of you was so nervous and embarrassed that you almost wished it was anyone but him. The man was doing things to you that turned your brain upside down and inside out. 

“Hi, Daryl.” The words slipped out a little too soon, a little too enthusiastically, but the moment you saw him, awkwardly loitering in the kitchen turned examination room, you couldn’t help but smile so wide that your cheeks began to ache. It was such a pleasant ache, though. Daryl was here, and that felt good. “What brings you in? Oh! The bandages.” You noticed that today he wore a jacket over his vest and button-up shirt. You were slightly disappointed, considering his arms were so… pleasing to you. But if you were going to change his bandages, he’d have to strip down again. Well, maybe you could have him strip a little more than he needed to. Maybe.

I’m a terrible nurse. 

“You got time?” he asked, not knowing what came over him. Indeed, he wanted to make sure you didn’t have any other patients after him, in case… Well, the air was thick and heavy with whatever tension there was between you two. It should’ve been obvious. He wanted you all to himself, however long that would take. Preferably, it would take a very, very long time. All the rest of the afternoon, into the night. That would be ideal. Daryl certainly had nothing on his schedule, having denied Aaron’s suggestion of taking the day to go on a recruiting mission, due to his minor motorcycle accident yesterday. It was the only time he’d ever milked an injury, just because he wanted to see you.

“Of course,” you said, turning to prepare another bowl of warm, soapy water. “I don’t have any other appointments. I’m off the clock in an hour… Well, there’s no clock.”

You turned back around to see Daryl sitting himself on the exam table, slowly removing his jacket as he let out a hiss of discomfort between his teeth. “Damn,” he said with a wince. Your breath faltered as you set down the bowl on the counter before coming to his aid, taking the other sleeve and gently pulling it off. 

“Poor thing,” you sighed, setting his jacket on a nearby coat hanger. When you returned to his side, you began stripping his vest, then his shirt. He watched you bite your lip, concentrating on undoing the buttons. He could’ve done it himself, but you wanted your hands as close to touching him as you could get. “How’s your head?”

It took him a few moments to register your words, as he was finding himself lost in the hue of your hair, the way it so beautifully framed your face. “It’s uh… It’s fine. Woke up with a bit of a headache, but I’m all right.”

You tilted your head and clicked your tongue. Even the thought of him with a headache made you want to wrap your arms around him and make all his pain go away. “It will go away,” you assured him. “You should really rest for the next few days. Have you been resting?”

Daryl didn’t get any sleep last night, none at all. Maybe he dozed off between thoughts of hearing your imagined voice whispering sweet nothings, your soft words settling on his ears like the delicate dewdrops on a flower’s petal in the haze of early morning. When the sun had risen, he took a walk outside the walls of Alexandria, trying to clear his mind, but all it did was remind him of how lonely he was, how much he wished someone was there with him.

Not just anyone, though. Just you, you and him together. Him holding your hand and keeping you within arm’s reach, safe and never in danger of the dead that roamed aimlessly outside. You’d smile as you told him about your day, all the things you did at the infirmary. Maybe he’d learn a thing or two about medicine, but mostly, he just wanted to hear your voice, to hear you speak about things he had hardly any grasp on. Just to see your face light up as you spoke about your work was enough to keep him interested. 

Love had never really occurred to him before as something available to him. It always seemed like something people talked about in movies, or something everyone else had but him. Now, with these feelings you had awakened in him, he couldn’t stop wondering about the possibility of it being real for him. 

As he trudged through meadows of sunkissed wildflowers, he found himself pondering, wondering what your favorite flower was. You seemed like a rose kind of girl… Blush pink with a dark green stem and red-tipped thorns. Maybe an innocent, sweet daisy on some days, but a fragrant, beautiful rose most days. 

Where the hell was he going to find a rose bush, though? 

“Daryl?” 

He shook his head and blinked hard as he removed himself from his thoughtless thoughts. “Didn’t sleep much at all last night,” he replied.

Though you meant to ask him why, you remembered the arousal in his jeans, and maybe that had something to do with it. “Well,” you sighed, and suddenly Daryl realized he no longer had a shirt on, “this shouldn’t take long, I’ll just change these bandages and then…” You trailed off, as you didn’t know what would come next. You certainly hoped for something… special, though maybe he’d forgotten about your less than subtle flirting yesterday. After all, he was slightly concussed. “Yeah.”

You went to work slowly unwrapping the gauze around his right arm, revealing the bright red rash spread all along the surface of his skin. That gravelly road must’ve done quite a number on the epidermis, and maybe it was the different lighting of the new day, but his rash almost seemed worse than yesterday. Squinting at the marred flesh, you spotted several tiny pieces of gravel and dirt that you hadn’t gotten out yesterday. 

It made your eyes shoot wide open. How could you be so neglectful? Of course, those pieces were very small, and it was inevitable that there would be some missed spots, but you should’ve been more careful. Maybe you were too busy letting your eyes roam over the defined muscles in his arm. You’d never seen any man with arms like that, deltoids so firm and triceps so distinctly separated from the biceps when he flexed. You could point out practically every little detail of them, even the brachioradialis and the flexor carpi radialis… 

“Oh, Daryl,” you sighed, and he had to admit, he’d thought about you uttering those words in a much different, more intimate setting. “I think I might need to do a deeper clean. There’s still dirt and gravel in there… Oh, I’m so sorry, Daryl. I should’ve done a better job.”

“Huh? It’s fine. A little dirt ain’t ever hurt nobody.” 

“But… It’s not fine.” You wrung out your washcloth in the bowl, then gently dragged it up and down his arm, trying to find the balance between scrubbing too hard and not hard enough. No matter how hard you tried, though, it seemed the more stubborn bits of dirt lodged in his skin refused to budge. You didn’t want to hurt him, though. If you scrubbed any harder, you might make the rash worse. 

He caught your worried expression, and eyed the guilt in your face. You felt horrible, like you’d neglected your duty as a nurse all because you were infatuated with your patient. If the world was anything like it used to be, you would’ve been fired. If you’d acted on your fantasies, you’d lose your license. 

Now Daryl felt for you, your worry permeating the air and translating into his own sympathy. “Hey,” he said, using his other hand to place it gently upon yours. The feeling stopped you from scrubbing, your hand and the washcloth underneath it frozen in place on his bicep. His strong, firm, warm bicep. 

You swallowed hard as your eyes met his. They were so kind, and so blue. It wasn’t an electric, vibrant blue, though, it was more like a subdued ocean blue, calming and deep. You didn’t even notice that your lips had split open slightly, agape in your awe of him. It didn’t help that his hand held yours so tightly now, and neither of you wanted to let go. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I ain’t gonna sue you.”

You laughed under your breath at the idea. “Oh, thank God. Well, um… I think the best thing would be to soak these rashes in warm water for a while, loosen the dirt.”

“You mean like a bath?”

“Mhm… Would you, um… We have a bathtub here.”

Perhaps it was unspoken, but there was no doubt that you both had the same thing in mind. It had escalated so fast, and there soon became no other option for either of you. The mind is a powerful thing—it can convince you that the least practical solution is the best one.

Once again, you didn’t need to bathe him, and you knew you shouldn’t, but Daryl didn’t protest, and you only went with your gut, your instincts telling you that you needed to, quite simply, rid this man of his dirty old jeans and get him into a tub of hot, steamy water. 

You’d shown him briefly to the bathroom, then turned on the bath, putting your hand through the stream to test the temperature. It was hot, but just right. That comfortable, steamy heat. “I’ll be right back,” you said, voice shaky in slight disbelief of how things had escalated. “I’m just going to get you some towels and a washcloth.”

As you walked down the hall, retreating to the linen closet, you knew there was only one logical conclusion to this. Well, there was only one you were thinking of, and that was… You couldn’t even let yourself think of the words. There was no universe in which Daryl would need you to bathe him. He was perfectly capable of doing it himself, in his own home, without you scrubbing him. You’d taken this all too far, and you had no excuse this time.

Still, he hadn’t protested, hadn’t said anything about the proposition making him uncomfortable. He seemed happy to let you wash him, and he was. 

He was so happy that, once again, he couldn’t quite fight the urge he had been so desperately trying to hold back. As he undid his belt, watching the water rise in the bathtub in front of him, he chewed his lip, wondering if he’d stepped into a dream. 

As far as nudity went, he wasn’t too prudish. He valued his privacy, but you were, as you reminded him yesterday, a medical professional, and you’d seen it all. Plenty of nude men, he was sure. Granted, he was still self-conscious. At least a nice bath would soothe the pain of his rash that, he had to admit, was hard to bear. If you used your healing touch on his naked body, maybe he’d get more out of the experience than just another fantasy. 

But what if it became something real? How else is this going to end? he wondered. He needed to make his move, that was certain. Now or never.

His injured, aching leg caused him to hiss in pain as he pulled off the right pant leg of his jeans. When he kicked off his socks, he was completely naked, vulnerable. Still, somehow it felt right. At least he trusted you, though his interactions with you were limited. After this, he’d know you much more… intimately, he was sure. 

When you returned, a few bath towels and washcloths in your hands, your eyes widened to see Daryl sitting in the bathtub, the water now turned off and filled much higher. He sat with his legs tucked up to his chest, and his arms wrapped around his knees. Chewing his lip, he looked your way, then lowered himself a little, as if in embarrassment. 

“I, uh…”

You laughed and shook your head. “I told you,” you said. “It’s fine. I have seen plenty of men naked. In medical contexts, of course.” Setting the towels upon the counter, you turned to close the bathroom door. “When I was in college, I worked at an old folks’ home. I can’t tell you how many old men I’ve—” Catching yourself, you shook your head as you sat yourself on your knees beside the bathtub. 

Luckily for you, he smiled. A small, playful, lopsided smile. He’s so cute. “You callin’ me an old man, nurse?”

“No, no,” you replied nervously, laughing under your breath. At least he seemed rather easygoing. When you first saw Daryl, he seemed like he would rather be surrounded by a herd of walkers than talk to anyone. Little did you know, your charm had worked wonders on him, and even if he really was quite shy, since yesterday, it became clear that he could no longer resist you. “You’re not old.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Why you bathin’ me then?”

Because I am a very, very bad nurse.

“Because you’re hurt,” you replied simply, but sincerely. As you soaked the washcloth in the bathwater, his gaze softened. You cared about him, you really did. Maybe you went a little overboard, but he didn’t care now. He knew he was in good hands, and if you wanted to take care of him in this way, who was he to stop you. Besides, if it meant getting your hands on him again, he was happy to oblige. “And yesterday, I didn’t take care of you as well as I could’ve. I need to make it up to you…” You trailed off, then cleared your throat. You felt his eyes on you as you wrung out the washcloth, water trickling back into the tub. “So you should let me really get this gravel out. I think I’d never forgive myself if you got an infection.”

You lifted your eyes to him again, and grabbed a hold of his right arm. Squinting, you tried to spot the stubborn dirt, and when you did, you raised your washcloth to his skin, and began scrubbing once again. 

“You, uh… You give all your patients baths?”

Your cheeks reddened as you cleared your throat. “N-no… I, um… No. Is this weird?”

He huffed and shook his head. At least he was still smiling. “Nah, just different. I mean, yeah, it’s a little weird, but after yesterday… Figure there ain’t many awkward situations left between us.”

“Hm, I haven’t given you an enema… Or a prostate exam… Or a colonoscopy. Do you need any of those done, too?”

Though you were joking, if he needed it… You’d do anything for that man. He was everything you wanted—attractive, funny, smart, brave… Well, you didn’t know him too well, but from what you’d seen, what you’d heard, what you’d known, you could tell he was a good man. 

“No, ma’am.”

The giggle you let out was heinously adorable. The way he called you “ma’am,” in that southern accent of his, with that gruff undertone and that wispy softness of his voice, it was too heavenly not to giggle at. It sent shivers up your spine.

And then his body, dotted with thousands of tiny water droplets, reddened by the steam of the hot water that surrounded him, soaked and soft and just so beautiful. He still kept his legs hugged to his chest, but soon you’d need to scrub there, too, as you knew he had a great deal of skin peeled off just above his right nipple. 

“Could you…” You gestured to his chest with your washcloth in hand. “I just need to get your chest wet.”

He loosened his legs until they were stretched out further, allowing access to his chest. You tried so hard not to look down, where his… penis—oh, God, you thought, his penis. 

Terrible. Absolutely terrible. You had no right to look down there, no right at all, but you did. Just for a second. A quick glance was all you needed. It was submerged in the steamy hot water, while his body lowered itself more. The squeak of his bare skin against the porcelain tub alerted you back to your task. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice your stare. 

“Thank you,” you said, not quite sure of exactly where you were or what was happening. You eyed his chest now, focusing on the raw, red skin that expanded from his right side to his right pec. It looked so painful, like it must’ve stung so bad. Your heart skipped a beat, both from the idea of the pain he must’ve felt, and the fact that his broad, strong chest looked so enticing. 

Just as you’d never seen arms like his before, you’d never seen a chest or a pair of shoulders like his, either. Strong, wide, muscular… Even his collarbones tempted you, begging for kisses and your delicate finger to trace along them. Further down, his chest hair had caught little droplets of water, and soon, you were meticulously washing his chest, soaking it in hot water as you cleaned the wound. You hadn’t even noticed the time going by, having been so consumed by his body. 

As your stare got more intense, his eyes settled on your face, where you held your lower lip between your teeth. The sound of water trickling from the washcloth into the bath brought you back to your senses, and your eyes met his. 

Moments passed in idleness, until his lips curled into a half smile, and a breathy laugh emerged. “What’re ya lookin’ at?” he asked, though he knew he’d been looking first, watching your every move and wondering when he was going to make his. 

You cleared your throat and smiled back. It was a smile you couldn’t ignore, one that couldn’t be held back. Like the sun always rises in the morning, the crescent moon of your smile was inevitable. A face like his could send you into orbit, and the way he was looking at you… It was like someone had hung little stars in his eyes. Those pretty, gentle blue eyes, shrouded in darkness by deep brown locks that framed noble cheekbones. You always had a thing for brunettes with blue eyes. 

The question lingered in your ears. What’re ya lookin’ at? The most perfect man you’d ever seen. You couldn’t say that, of course. Well, you’d already broken every rule in the book, but you were determined to be a little more subtle.

“You have very pretty eyes,” you said with a shrug. “That’s all.”

He seemed confused by that. Indeed, no one had ever told him he had pretty eyes. All he knew was they were blue and sensitive, and he needed a good pair of sunglasses. “Pfft,” he scoffed. “Nah.”

“You do!” you exclaimed with a laugh. “And a nice face…” You trailed off, feeling yourself about ready to say, “and a very nice body,” but you didn’t thank God.

“You, uh… got a real nice face, too.”

“Thank you,” you laughed. “I… I really shouldn’t be doing any of this.”

He shook his head, and as you removed your hand and the washcloth from his chest, he quickly grabbed you, returning your hand, and keeping his above yours. He began to guide it, instructing it to keep washing him. “Keep goin’,” he said, his voice low and nearly a whisper, like what you’d heard so many times in your head last night, begging you to touch him. “Feels good when ya touch me.”

It felt so good that he knew what was coming… Down beneath the water, his cock strained and began to throb slightly, almost twitching. He could feel it rising, getting longer and harder with each circular movement of that warm, wet cloth on his aching skin. The unavoidable tingles along his shaft became concentrated at his tip, gradually reddening as blood pooled there. Veins became more prominent, bulging along the lengthening shaft. His instinct was to hide it, tuck his legs back into his chest in the hopes you wouldn’t see it, but another instinct was becoming stronger, and that was his need for you. 

Instead of hiding it, he guided your hand lower, now just above his navel. Your eyes widened almost innocently, but there was no real innocence inside you. It was pure lust, and at the sight of the little light brown hairs that led down from his belly to his cock, you forgot to breathe. 

“Daryl…” Your eyes followed his happy trail down to his swollen, hardening cock. Unabashedly now, you nearly salivated at the sight. So this is what he had tucked away in his boxer briefs yesterday. Impressive, thick length, with room to grow… You could think of a few ways to get him even harder. 

Though he tried to maintain his confidence, Daryl could never quite rid himself of his shyness. He looked away for a moment, clearing his throat, but keeping your hand just under his belly button. 

“I got that problem again,” he said lowly, his voice gravelly yet somehow breathy and sweet like honey. It entranced you. “Said you’d help me out… That offer still stand?”

As he lowered your hand down his pelvis, your shaky grip on the washcloth finally relented. It dropped into the water, and soon you felt a new type of flesh between your fingers. It was coated in a patch of tiny hairs, and his hand took you even further to the base of his cock, where his own fingers gently curled yours around the thick shaft. 

The heat of the hot, steamy water combined with his own pulsing body heat to warm you from your hand up to your chest, which was heaving with each heavy, nervous breath. 

His eyes grew soft, almost sleepy, but your touch was invigorating. Despite the utter relaxation in his face, inside there was a deep, demanding need to pull you in and use all his stamina to feel every sensation your body had to offer. He needed to explore every inch of you, every twist and turn of the inside of you. He’d bend his aching body every which way just to get every last angle of you. He wanted it all, everything, and that’s exactly what he’d give to you, too. 

With his question still lingering in the steamy, heady air, you swallowed hard, hoping to lubricate your dry throat enough to speak. “I—I… I really shouldn’t.”

“But I need it,” he said quietly, controlling your hand to slide it downwards, very, very slowly. Of course, you could’ve stopped him, as his touch was so gentle, so respectful, but you didn’t want to stop him. He felt so good between your fingers, and he really did need it. He was so hard, so swollen. You could feel the topography of his veins all along the shaft, each one so defined and practically pulsing. 

When he saw your face soften as you watched his hand instruct yours, he knew he’d struck a cord there. You wanted to take care of him, to help him. You wanted him to be safe and warm and healthy. It turned him on, far more than he anticipated. 

He needed a woman like you, to make him feel loved, to care for him even if he didn’t always care for himself. Of course, he’d care for you, too, and take you in his arms to keep you safe from a world that could take you from him at any second. There wasn’t any time in this world for waiting. There was a woman right in front of him, someone who was everything he could ever hope for. If you’d let him, he’d never let anything hurt you, and he’d always be there to show you the tenderness you deserved. 

“Daryl…” 

He never cared much for his name, until he heard you say it. The tone of your voice was breathy, almost begging. Every inch of your face was a reflection of your blissful confusion. As much as you hesitated, you knew you wanted him, too, and when his hand tugged on yours, forcing it to wrap around the tip of his cock, whatever strength you had in your arm faded away like the last strained breath trapped in your throat. 

Your sigh coincided with his as his strong, large hand put pressure over yours, squeezing around his swollen head. He moved your hand back towards the base of his cock, encouraging you to stroke him. He needed this more than he needed you to change his bandages or clean his wounds. He needed this kind of touch from you, not anything else. 

“Come on,” he huffed, leaning back slowly against the edge of the tub until his back lay against the white porcelain. He released his hand, but yours stayed put, coiled around his cock. It was a little harder now, and you couldn’t take your eyes off it, but when his hand pulled your chin so you could face him, you got lost in his eyes once more. “Please.”

His self-control was strong, and it was the only thing keeping him from rather abruptly lunging towards you and pulling your body into the tub with him, but you were wearing a rather fuzzy sweater, and getting it wet might’ve been an issue. Tearing it off would be the next best thing.

You leaned over the edge of the tub a little more, getting a better view of what you were doing. Just looking straight down at his hard cock under the water made a tingle surge between your legs. You leaned forward more, bringing your other hand to rest on the base as you stroked along his tip. His legs twitched slightly with every circle of your thumb, and though you were concentrating on your task, out of the corner of your eye, you saw his mouth drop as his eyes shut closed and his head fell back.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

He was so sensitive, more easily stimulated than the other men you’d been with. Maybe he hadn’t been touched in a long time, like you. “When was the last time?” you asked, your mouth moving faster than your thoughts. 

His heavy eyelids labored open, with slivers of silvery blue shining back at you. “Don’t even remember,” he said. His gaze drifted hazily downwards until he could watch your hand tug gently on his length. With his hands submerged in the water, he clenched his fists, trying to hold back his urges. He needed to savor the feeling, he knew that, but it was taking so much willpower not to get to know your body more intimately. 

You kneaded his cock with more pressure, now almost squeezing around the base and the tip with each pass. It was so long now, and thick with blood and swollen vessels that pumped his cock with arousal. It curved gently towards the end, leading you to wonder if he could reach some special spots inside of you. 

As it stood up higher, now poking out of the steamy water, you could get a better look at his testicles, which looked heavy and almost burdensome. He let out a hiss between clenched teeth when your other hand moved down beneath the water to gently massage them, moving your fingers tantalizingly slowly. 

Your touch became a slight squeeze, but it felt good. There was an ache there, where his body begged for release. He’d get it soon, if you kept touching him the way you were. 

“Is that good?” you asked, your voice softly quierving. You hadn’t touched a man like this in so long. It got you excited, too, as you found your thighs squeezing themselves together to try to satiate the tingling sensation between your legs. 

Daryl returned his heavy gaze to your face, where your lips were trembling in starvation for him and his affections. You could only think about dragging your mouth across his wide, heaving chest, painting it with your kisses and leaving love bites wherever you pleased. When he tilted his head side to side, it displayed his thick neck, the muscles and veins slightly bulging, the skin reddened and glossed over with a sheen of sweat. You’d leave a few heavy kisses there in the dreamscape of your mind. Well, you already had your hands in a very… intimate place, so maybe he’d let you get closer next. 

“Real good… Don’t stop.”

You wouldn’t dream of it. He felt so good in your hands, so hard and pulsing and begging and throbbing and—

Some moments later, with a low growl punctuating his sudden movement, he jolted forward, arms bursting open to envelope you and pull you forward. The bathwater splashed, some spilling out over the side of the tub, wettening your lap. 

His swift attack on your lips left you little time to think. He himself had forsaken thought, opting instead to ravish you much more spontaneously than he’d initially intended, but you held him, kissing him back, reciprocating his gesture by thrusting your tongue into his mouth and swirling it around his. 

Whimpering against his lips, you pulled away for just a moment, eagerly bringing your sweater up and over your head to reveal your bra. Without a moment’s hesitation, he tugged at the straps to pull the cups down, and you quickly undid the clasp on the back. 

“Get in here, girl,” he warned, his eyes dark and heavy as they gazed over your heaving breasts, your nipples hard and cold against the air. “Need ya to take care of me.”

You stood briefly to slide off your skirt and socks, followed by your underwear. “Are you sure?” you asked, despite your actions as you stepped into the tub, your feet on either side of his legs. “I mean… We shouldn’t.”

He reached his arms up as far as he could to grasp your hips, coercing you down until you knelt in the tub, knees and thighs submerged beside his. “Yeah, we should,” he said.

He couldn’t help but latch his lips to your nipple, sucking desperately at the hard tissue. “Oh…” you moaned under your breath. 

His tongue swirled and flicked wildly, his hands laced around your lower back to bring you even closer. You felt his cock against your mound, throbbing and twitching. Looking down, you watched it practically move on its own. “Your cock…” you panted, hardly even aware of your own voice and what it was saying. All you knew was that he needed you badly, and you needed him, too. 

His lips separated from your chest for a moment, his blue eyes dreamily looking up at you. “It’s hard for ya,” he said, and you swore you shivered under your skin with each pass his hands made up and down your sides. They rose up again to cup your breasts, massaging them, and giving them a squeeze which made you gasp. He smiled slightly, crooked and naughty. “You like it?”

You liked it too much for your own good. You weren’t ready for him, but you were in the perfect position to ride him, and it was so tempting. “Oh, yes… Daryl, you’re perfect.”

His cheeks blossomed with a pink hue. When you noticed, you laughed and cupped his face as you settled deeper onto his lap. “You’re blushing, tough guy.”

His arms wrapped around your back to pull you closer until your lips touched his. He pecked your lips, then your nose. His short, scruffy facial hair tickled you, making you giggle softly. You felt one of his arms loosen up, and his hand reached down between your bodies to guide his wet hard cock to your slit. 

You flinched and locked your hands around the back of his neck when the feeling of his tip grazing your clit sent shivers up into your belly. Your entrance tightened and contracted, already preparing for him. Letting go of his cock, he brought his hand up to your clit, putting pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Oh,” you whispered, letting your head slot into the crook of his shoulder. “That feels… Daryl, that feels so good.”

The sounds of the water became more boisterous as his hand moved faster, harder, increasing the pressure. Your knees dug into the hard porcelain surface of the bathtub, but it was impossible to feel any discomfort when the tightening and tingling started to overtake you. 

With his cock tucked firmly between your folds, he maneuvered you slightly to get the tip at the entrance, where it tickled your sensitive flesh. You couldn’t help but rub yourself harder against his firm hand, sending ripples through the water. 

One of his hands came to the back of your head, gently pulling your loose hair to lift your face from his shoulder. “Pretty girl,” he said, leaning forward to kiss your lips. His hand still moved, with one thick finger sinking slowly into you. “I wanna fuck you so bad.”

He slipped another finger in, and it felt like Heaven. If his fingers felt this good, you couldn’t even imagine what his cock would feel like. “Please,” you begged, lips trembling against his. “I’d let you do anything to me.”

“Mm,” he hummed with a smile. His fingers dug a little deeper, curling up inside of you as his thumb drew tight, hard circles over your clit. You threw your head back, moaning so loud that your voice echoed slightly in the spacious bathroom. “I wanna do all kinds of things to ya… Dirty things.”

He leaned forward to catch your nipple with his lips again, this time biting down gently, causing you to yelp and giggle. “Daryl!” This was a side of him you’d never known before, of course. It was strange to see his confidence reach such a new height. All you knew of him previously was that he was the shy, mysterious, slightly grumpy archer of Rick’s group. They were new in town, and most people were a little scared of them, but something about Daryl was comforting to you. His presence in Alexandria didn’t frighten you at all, really. It made you feel safe, and many other things, too. 

Water nearly splashed over the side of the tub as he pulled his hand out of you and firmly grabbed your bottom. “Why don’t ya put it in?” he asked. “Nice and deep.”

You missed his fingers inside you, so surely his cock would be the best replacement. You grabbed a hold of his cock, angling it towards your opening. Of course, you didn’t take it in right away, instead opting to use his tip to tease your clit. 

His fingers dug into your bottom as he let out a hiss between his teeth. “Fuck.”

You circled your hips over his cock, then lowered yourself, his tip now just breaching the entrance. “Ooo…”

The hot water felt so good flowing into you with his cock, warming you up from the inside. He could feel every ridge and curve of your body enveloping him. Soft, pulsing flesh massaged his cock with each movement you made to get him as deep as you could get him. 

When he was all the way inside you, you leaned forward slowly, your chest pressed against his as you lay there for a moment, eyes closed in pure bliss. Being filled by him was unlike any other sensation. 

You felt his strong arms wrap right around your back as he, too, shut his eyes. The pain he’d experienced from yesterday was all gone now. The warm embrace of you and the water surrounding him seemed to heal him more than any ointment or bandages could. 

Despite the pure beauty of that moment, he needed you to move, to let him prove to you just how much he had really needed you. 

“Come on, angel,” he mumbled against your cheek before leaving a wet, sloppy kiss there. “Take me for a ride, huh?”

You laughed. “What if I slip?” 

He tightened his grip around you even more. “Won’t let ya.”

You believed him. 

You straightened your back, placing your hands on his shoulders so you’d have something to hang onto, and, boy, were those shoulders wide and strong, with those adorable smatterings of freckles that charmed you so. You pressed several kisses to them as you rocked your hips back and forth, slowly but surely.

“I love your body,” you said between kisses. “These shoulders… Your arms… You’re so big and strong.”

His breath got caught in his throat when you began to rock faster, now simultaneously gyrating your hips, round and round. “Fuck, (Y/N)…”

Every movement you made drew you closer to release, with your throbbing, sensitive clit rubbing against his pelvis, which he moved against yours.

“Baby…” you moaned like prayer.

He’d never been called that before. He liked it, so much so that he used his strong grip on your hips to manually bounce you on his cock, with his eyes lowered to watch as the water splashed where your bodies met. 

Your toes were curled forward, trying to keep you steady. When they lost their grip, your knees slipped on the submerged porcelain surface. “Whoa!” you cried out, your forehead planting itself square in the middle of his chest. 

He flinched and sat up a little straighter, still inside you. “You okay?”

You raised your head with a boisterous laugh, and, instead of answering, cupped his cheeks to kiss him. Your weight made him sink back down, and your continued movements had him groaning deep into your mouth. 

You thrusted harder, now on the brink of orgasm. Lifting your lips from his for just a moment, you uttered the phrase, “I’m going to come.”

That sent a shiver of excitement through his cock. “Good girl,” he said. “Come all over me… Wanna feel it.”

You nodded frantically as you panted, now aggressively rubbing your clit on his pelvis as his cock simultaneously tickled you in just the right place. “Oh, God,” you sighed, your face straining as you worked so hard to feel your release. “I’m almost there, baby…”

He thrusted up into you as much as he could in his position, and more water seemed to splash all over, some pouring over the edge and surely pooling on the tile floor, but all that mattered to him was your pleasure. 

You grasped harder onto his shoulders, your eyes now closed as your breasts bounced with each hard thrust. He could feel the twitches of your walls becoming more and more intense, and soon he’d come, too, if you kept squeezing him like that. 

“Oh! Oh!”

“Come on, sweetheart.”

His honeyed voice was the last straw. The proverbial string inside your belly snapped, and a cascade of heavenly pulses erupted from your clit. You twitched and writhed on top of him, at first frantically, but soon your body fell into a natural rhythm as you rode him and your high. 

“God,” you sighed through agape lips. “Oh, shit…”

It lasted so incredibly long, allowing you to languidly sway with the current of the water as it settled down. Daryl’s body had stopped moving, but his hands were delicately caressing your sides, the rough calluses on his fingers tickling your soft skin every once in a while. His hands settled on the sides of your cheeks where he brushed your hair back behind your ears. With heavy eyelids, you looked back down at him and smiled wide, deliriously happy. 

“Feel good, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, your voice high-pitched and a bit dazed. Indeed, you felt a little bit lightheaded from the experience. It was the best orgasm you’d ever had, and now that you were looking back at him, that dreamy, mysterious man you’d fantasized about for so long, you were even more dumbstruck. 

“C’mere.”

He pulled you back down until your chest was pressed up against his, and your lips were receiving a passionate massage as his hands laced through your damp hair. His tongue traced around your lips as you smiled deliriously. “Ain’t done yet,” he said, nodding his head as his nose rubbed yours. “Scoot back.”

He helped you off his lap until he could stand, his body dripping with water as he did so. You were a little confused, watching him step out of the tub. Still, he was hard, throbbing, and red. You knew he couldn’t be done with you just yet. 

“Daryl?” you asked, a slight whine to your voice. “Baby?”

He grabbed a towel to quickly dry off his legs, then threw it aside. “I ain’t leavin’.” He stepped forward til his knees hit the edge of the tub. His hands came to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair once again. There was pressure to his touch as he pulled your head forward, and you realized now that you were in the perfect position. “You got such a pretty mouth,” he said. “Can ya finish me with it?” You nodded, of course. You’d be honored, and he was so ready to come for you, with clear liquid beginning to drip from his tip, and it definitely wasn’t water. 

With one hand moving up the base of his shaft, and the other cupping his heavy testicles, you brought your lips to his tip, where you left a long, sweet kiss. Even that seemed to make his cock twitch, and a soft, yet deep, moan escaped from his lips. Your touch was so tender and sweet, and your soft, pillowy lips engulfing his tip was just so heavenly. 

The deeper he entered your mouth, the more saliva pooled at the tip of your tongue, coating his shaft with every movement as you slid him back and forth with your hand. Each prominent vein bulged in your mouth, with the salty taste of the clear liquid on your tongue. 

From his perspective, he adored how you looked with his cock in your mouth, how your lips pursed and your tongue stuck out to cushion the underside of his shaft as he went in, pulling out a little, then going back as far as you could take him without gagging. He didn’t want you to gag, or to hurt you at all. He just wanted to feel every part of your body in the most intimate way. 

You pulled him out for a moment, taking the opportunity to place playful, sweet kisses along his shaft as your eyelashes fluttered up at him. He looked so beautiful in his pleasure, his head tilted back with his eyes shut and lips agape, a deep, sexy moan escaping when you suctioned your lips to one testicle. They were quite big, so only one could fit at a time. 

“Ah, fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “Just like that, sweetheart.”

You returned to his tip after leaving another trail of kisses on the underside, and a few extras on his reddened, leaking head. “Am I doing good, baby?” you asked. You found that you quite liked his praise, and that his tendency to call you a “good girl” was something you’d have to try extra hard to elicit. “Am I being a good girl for you?”

“Mmm,” he hummed with that sexy crooked smile of his. “Such a good girl… Doin’ so good with my cock.”

Well, you thought, I am a medical professional. 

But your tongue was unable to speak as you swirled circles around his tip, messily dripping saliva all over your breasts as they hung over the edge of the tub. 

Just before you could open your mouth to take him again, he pulled back, his hand now stroking himself as his soaking wet chest heaved and his cock throbbed harder. “I’m gonna come,” he said. “Where do ya want it, nurse?”

You laughed as you straightened your back, jutting out your breasts. “My chest, please.”

Something in the way you said “please,” with your perky breasts and cold, hard nipples right in front of him, made him let loose. 

He let out the loudest, deepest moan yet as his semen spilled over you, caught by your breasts. Your heavy eyes watched in lustful fascination at the display, and it seemed the white strings would never stop coming from the tip of his cock. He had so much that once he’d drenched your breasts, you brought your tongue to his head for the last spurts to be caught in your open mouth. 

“Good girl,” he praised again, noticing how much you liked it. As you swallowed the last drops, you were quite suddenly picked up, with his hands lifting you by your underarms until he had you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you with a series of strained grunts. 

“Daryl!” you laughed, wide-eyed and slightly terrified he’d drop you. “Where are you taking me?”

“There a bed around here?” he asked, hoisting you up so he wouldn’t lose his grip. He immediately regretted not asking where the bedroom was before picking you up, as he now stood naked, wet, and carrying Alexandria’s naked, wet nurse (who was also covered in his bodily fluids, mind you). 

“The door to your left,” you laughed, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. “Don’t you drop me!”

He kicked the door open, then nearly sprinted to the bed, dropping you and himself on the soft mattress. You laughed as he frantically covered you both with the bedsheets and blankets, but the laughter died down when he bundled you up, rubbing your arms outside the blanket as he tried to warm you. 

“Are ya cold?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head with a smile as you looked up at him, marveling at his beautifully rugged face. “Quite warm… What about you? Are you comfortable?” You unwrapped your hands from the bundle he put you in, raising them to rub up and down his pecs when you noticed his rash. “Oh, Daryl! You need ointment on your rashes.” You began to sit up, planning on running downstairs to fetch the burn treatment, but Daryl’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into him. 

“Nah,” he said, a hint of a laugh coating his gruff southern accent. “All I need is you, ain’t no pain if I’m holdin’ you.”

“Oh…” You bit your lip as you rocked your shoulders, flattered and giddy. “Well, then I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s right,” he replied, tucking you back under the covers, being sure that you were snug and warm before he kissed you. You trapped him in your kiss by wrapping your arm around his neck, pulling him deeper. Your tongue slipped into his mouth to greet his, and they swirled around for a while, dancing so playfully. 

Your feet found his beneath the covers, so you flexed your toes to tickle him, causing him to laugh into your mouth and nearly bite your tongue. “Hey,” he said as he pulled away. 

“What?” you laughed. 

He shook his head before diving back down to kiss just above your collarbone, where he licked and sucked at the skin. “Nothin’...”

“You’re easily distracted,” you laughed, watching him move to your shoulder with his tongue.

“Mm,” he hummed against your shoulder. “And you’re a sweet thing… Like to keep you.”

“Well, I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his face turning a little serious. 

You tilted your head with playfully narrowed eyes. “You think I have sex in a bathtub with every patient, Daryl?”

He chewed his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss your lips once again. “No, just… Don’t wanna mess this up by assumin’ nothin’.”

“I’d be crazy not to be yours.” Your hand lifted to brush through his messy, dampened hair. It was a little darker from the water, but still a lovely ashy chestnut brown, which complimented his sparkling blue-grey eyes just perfectly. “And I think you need me around. To tend to you… ailments.” 

Indeed, you became Daryl’s personal nurse at times, patching him up when he inevitably got himself hurt in some sort of heroic escapade, or, more commonly, when he picked something up the wrong way and injured his back. In any case, you were more than happy to take care of him, and it helped that you soon moved in together, and that Daryl’s appointments often had… happy endings (if he wasn’t too injured, of course).

~

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Masterlist

Part 1

[lady-phasma]

Happiness at the end of the world

Chapter 3 of ?

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; this is really different than anything I have ever shared on Tumblr before - it's fluffy and has lots of feelings and quite a few warnings; Smut, Not Canon Compliant, PTSD, mentions of past SA, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Daryl Dixon, p in v sex, ultra-Light Dom/sub

Summary a/n: I'm terrible at summaries, it's just more fluffy smutty stuff like chapter 2. No beta. 4.5k words.

Kristina scrubbed her eyes with her fists and squinted at the sun light. They had fallen asleep, possibly overslept. Thankfully neither of them had a run planned. Daryl might have work detail, she wasn’t sure, but she had the day off. He would probably need to take Dog out soon. She yawned as silently as she could manage, not wanting to wake Daryl yet. She was surprised to find she had fallen asleep naked. He was still wearing his jeans. He was barely snoring but the soft sound made her smile. She snuggled in close to his side. One of his arms was flung above his head, the other draped across his chest. She put her head close to his arm pit, indulging in the guilty pleasure of how wonderful he smelled, embarrassed even though only she knew. She thought she might not care if he did know, he would probably like that she liked it. She curled next to him, took a deep breath, and slipped her hand under his on his chest.

He stirred just a bit, one eye opening to assess the interruption, then he swept his arm down and crushed her into his side. She smiled against his skin. The illusion of being small with him would never get old. She let her mind wander and relished being here, in the moment, no urgency. She savored it. Her thoughts drifted through the sleepy fog of memories from the previous night. She was more satisfied than she had been in years. She watched his stomach as he breathed, the sunlight from the window highlighting a few scars and fine blond hairs. It took all of her willpower to resist the impulse to touch them, move her palm over and down his stomach. The waist of his jeans was low on his hips, revealing the darker hair just below his bellybutton. Of course she noticed the bulge in his jeans. Her mouth watered. She suspected it wasn’t a particularly comfortable way to sleep.

Her lazy thoughts drifted through things she would like to do with him, to him, back to their present arrangement, and then to coffee. It was a luxury she had long ago learned to live without but this morning felt so normal, so like before, that she could almost smell the dark roast in the French press. An impromptu fantasy formulated in her mind’s eye of a world without walkers, Daryl in her bed in her last apartment. Laying with him on a Saturday maybe, windows open to let in the cool spring morning air. The smell of him, coffee, clean sheets, and the anticipation of toothpaste combined into a snapshot that made her a little melancholy. She let the thought of toothpaste guide her back to the present and wondered if he had any. He probably did, he had the basics most of the time.

She wriggled from under his arm. When she started walking to the bathroom she was very aware of her nakedness but didn’t cover up, just in case he was awake enough to watch her. She smiled to herself as she searched the bathroom sink and medicine cabinet for toothpaste. Fuck yes, she thought, as she picked up a flat, rolled up, tiny tube of the stuff. She never knew she would love it, miss it, so much. With just the tiniest spot of it on her finger she scrubbed at her teeth. Her toothbrush was at her place. She took her time, it was a lovely feeling, then sipped some water from the faucet and rinsed. She breathed into her palm, sniffed, and was satisfied that most of the morning breath was gone.

Daryl had at least one eye on her as she stepped out of the bathroom. He tried to play possum but she saw his eyelids flutter. She leaned against the door frame. If he was pretending then he would be curious when he didn’t hear the expected footsteps approach or feel the dip in the mattress as she got back in bed. Ha! There it was again.

“Playin’ possum, huh?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Huh?” he opened his eyes slowly but his lips made a tight line as he suppressed a smile.

“Yeah that’s what I thought,” she walked toward the bed. She tossed the toothpaste at him. “I’ll pay you back what I used and find some more on my next run. That shit needs to be a priority unless some hippie around here can make us some from tree bark and dandelions or some shit.”

He scoff-laughed and picked up the tube from the bed. She knew him pretty well, knew he wouldn’t care if he had water or not. In a pinch just the paste would do and she didn’t want him out of bed just yet. She stood at the side of the bed as he pushed his toothpaste around his mouth. No one ever looked dignified “brushing” their teeth with their finger. She waited until he was done and held out her hand for the tube.

“Wha?” he asked.

“Gimme and I’ll take it back to the bathroom,” she answered, making a grabbing motion with her hand.

“Nah,” he said, tossing the tube on the floor. “Com’ere.”

She blushed while she hesitated. She had wanted his attention, that’s why she hadn’t put on clothes. However, Daryl’s attention was intense, she kept forgetting that.

He put his hand out to her but he remained laying down. She gingerly stepped onto the mattress, using his hand for balance. She was unsure where he wanted her so she stood, one foot on either side of his hips. She felt a bit like an Amazon and didn’t hate it. He slid his hand out of hers, letting each finger trail down hers. His eyes moved slowly over her. Just before she was about to sit down or run or sink into a hole in the floor, he sat up and slid his hands up both legs from her ankles, over her calves, and cupped her ass. Their communication was simple, silent queues, pressure with fingertips, glances with eyes. She loved it. Some combination of his signs instructed her to kneel, straddling him. She did.

She shivered. It wasn’t a cold morning at all but she felt like all the heat in the room was now only where their skin touched. His grip on her ass never faltered. This helped her get to her knees gracefully instead of the careless, unsexy way she probably would have done on her own. He also wouldn’t let her sit back on her heels. As much as he was learning her, she was learning him and she had not moved her hands from her sides since he let her hand go. She was looking at him, shivering a little, and struggling to think of anything other than her bare pussy spread open exactly how he wanted it. She blushed a deeper shade of pink.

“Mornin’,” he said. Before she could reply he moved both hands in tandem to cup her ass cheeks. She bit her bottom lip. Then his fingers began to move between her thighs. One hand held her thigh from behind, the other found her pussy.

“Ya get wet real fast, huh?” he grinned. She nodded, lower lip still pinched between her teeth.

“How come?” he asked.

“Uh, you, uh,” she mumbled and gulped and remembered she actually knew words. “You make me wet. Thinking about you, looking at you, smelling you…” She trailed off. His eyes had flashed a little at the last one.

“Mmmmhm,” he responded. Then he started to move his fingers. The sensation of being played with from behind while looking at him made her knees weak and her mouth dry.

He pulled her legs toward him, for better reach, but she lost her balance a bit and steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders. She was now straddling his lap, her stomach almost pressed against his. He looked at her and slowly shook his head. As soon as she understood she dropped her hands from his shoulders and made an apologetic face. His face was unreadable.

Then his fingers parted her lips and pressed against her clit. He stroked back the full length and then forward again, stopping to dip into her and then out quickly to circle her clit. He repeated the motion. God she was dripping wet. His hands were rough and felt amazing on her sensitive skin, on her swollen clit. She had never been stroked in quite this way before and found herself once again admiring his instincts.

“Oh Daryl,” she moaned. “Oh shit you feel so good.”

“Yeah, ya like that,” he growled. “Ya want me to make you come?”

“Fuck, please,” she begged. She had started to sway with his rhythm and her back arched to push her hips closer to him.

“Nah,” he said as he pulled his fingers out. Her eyes flew open at the sudden loss of stimulation. Before she could protest she watched him lick his fingers, tasting her, and she moaned.

His other hand still held her in place. Her breasts were nearly level with his mouth and he leaned forward sucking a nipple into his mouth. She squirmed and his grip on her thigh tightened. He placed his other hand on her side, high up on her ribs, and pulled her chest closer. She felt off-balance and unsteady. Every sensation from his mouth and hands on her tugged at her cunt with electric strings.

“Daryl, please,” she moaned.

“Please what?” he immediately put his mouth back on her nipple.

“Can I please touch you?” she whispered. She wasn’t afraid to ask but was unsure of the answer.

An mmhmm vibrated from his mouth through her nipple and straight to her clit. Her hands flew to his hair and grabbed fistfuls. Her hands roamed everywhere without thought. She caressed his neck and shoulders, his chest, arms, anything she could reach while remaining upright. She kept her eyes closed and made a mental map of him. He had given both nipples attention as well as the sensitive skin under her breasts. The sensory overload forced unintentional sounds from her.

He hands rested on his upper arms. She couldn’t get enough of his biceps flexing under her fingertips. She didn’t grip to steady herself, she didn’t need to.

His mouth moved away from her and his hands began to slide to her hips, his thumbs pressed hard in the hollow of her hip bones. He understood how much she enjoyed that almost immediately the night before. He gently pulled down on her hips so that she was sitting on his lap. Her knees ached but she cared with only a small sliver of her mind. His dick was so hard that she gasped when her pussy came to rest on the zipper of his jeans.

Kristina took advantage of the permission to touch him and slid her hands to the back of his neck. She held his gaze while she moved close enough to kiss him but stopped just out of reach. He leaned in to meet her lips and she pulled back, teasing, grinning a little. She enjoyed having his lips just out of reach, sharing his air, watching his expression change from control to something like pursuit. She darted out her tongue and licked his bottom lip. He was faster than her. He pressed his lips against hers and tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth. She moaned into his mouth as he released it. She wanted to learn every way he liked to be kissed, felt she could do that all day. She moaned again when he forced her mouth open with his tongue. He responded to her moans by gripping her hips and adjusting his.

His jeans were rough and delightful against her. She was almost sure they were soaked by now. She was aching and couldn’t imagine how he must feel. She wanted to make him feel everything, help him experience everything, she was impatient. As they kissed she moved her hands from his neck to his chest. She ran her fingers through the rough hair and avoided the scars she could remember with her eyes closed. She was learning as quickly as she could but sometimes part of learning was testing. She let her fingertips graze his nipple, her nails tracing the muscles of his pecs, and returned to his nipple. Each time she did, he moaned and slightly rolled his hips.

She didn’t want to be made to choose but this new information was intriguing so she pulled back from their kiss. She placed small, delicate kisses up the line of his jaw to his ear, and breathed hotly next to it. She increased the pressure of her fingers as she passed over his nipple again. Slowly, she told herself, don’t rush. She circled her other arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer. There was almost no space between them She loved this closeness. She got a bit braver and made gentle circles around his nipple. His short, quick breathes guided her. His head was in the curve of her neck and he was lazily sucking and kissing her neck and collarbone. She hummed, licked his earlobe, rolled her hips, and almost pinched at his nipple.

This was too much. Daryl grabbed her by the waist, moved her off his lap, and almost pushed her onto her back. He was hovering over her before her surprise had subsided. She giggled. She squirmed a bit, wiggling her hips and him, taunting him. Her giggles turned into quiet laughter at the look on his face. God it was endearing. It was a comical mix of delight and annoyance but with a trace of something like fear.

He began to smother her chest and stomach and hips with greedy, kisses, sucking and nibbling at times. Her laughter transformed into panting and moaning as he slipped a thigh between her legs. He ground the coarse denim against her as he kept kissing. When she felt his teeth she arched her back toward him, forcing her hips against his thigh. He groped and searched for her wrists while his kissing slowed. He brought them together in one hand and pinned them above her head. He raised up to do this and was looking down at her, hunger and need in his blue eyes.

Kristina defied him and raised her head to kiss his chest, reach her mouth almost a nipple. He pressed harder on her wrists, not painfully, and she dropped her head back on the pillow. She bit her lower lip in a challenge. He made a point to push his leg against her cunt as he moved off the bed. She knew better than to lower her arms. She had no idea what he was doing until he walked back into the room with one of his bandanas. He got back on the bed, straddling her. The cloth smelled of motorcycles and Daryl and earth as he wrapped it around her wrists. After he tied the knot he tugged on it and her arms moved but her wrists stayed together.

He looked at her. Just looked. She tried to make her face unreadable but the more she tried the hotter the blush felt. He got up from the mattress again. He assessed the scene and tapped the inside of one of her ankles. He was gentle but knew what he wanted. She spread her legs.

He nodded once, satisfied, and the rested a hand on the fly of his jeans. He held her gaze to ensure she was watching. He was insecure about almost everything about himself except his abilities to track and hunt. Only a day ago what he was doing now only existed in his imagination, nothing he could actually do. Kristina looked at him the way he looked at her. He wasn’t comfortable in his skin, might never be, but that seemed okay when he was with her. She didn’t expect him to be. Not that he thought she preferred he be some beat up mess but that it didn’t really matter to her or if it did at all it only made her enjoy him more. He always overthought, analyzed, tried to anticipate what would happen next. A survival skill he developed to dodge words and fists and pain. Last night he had moments when his brain took a break from the extra work, when his world was nothing but being wrapped up in her. He could do that as long as she would let him.

So with her he did things that scared him at first or made himself feel a little unhinged. He was sure her psychology shit had words for all that. The words didn’t matter to him. He just wanted to keep returning to that edge and finding out that he could go past it. And that he had someone who stood on the other side with her hand out, helping him. He rarely felt brave, he did what was necessary, but there was a small flicker of bravery when he pushed past the fear.

He watched as her eyes did what he wanted and followed his hand to his jeans. He cupped the bulge, pressed the zipper a little too hard against his dick, but the slight pain helped him focus. Once his jeans were unzipped his narrow hips couldn’t hold them up. He let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them. She licked her lips. He liked that a lot. He enjoyed being able to watch her shallow breathing in the sway of her breasts, how her belly rose and fell, close to panting.

He wrapped his hand around his dick and stroked, long, lazy strokes. Her eyes followed. He swiped the precum off the tip and she licked her lips again. Oh yeah? he thought. He leaned over the mattress and painted her bottom lip with it. Her eyes nearly closed as she slid her tongue out to taste it. Watching her enjoy that tugged at the base of his dick and he groaned through gritted teeth. He knelt down next to her, hand back on his aching dick, and licked at her nipples, her belly button, kissed her carefully above her pussy. He breathed in her smell. He wanted his mouth on her, to taste her, feel her with his tongue, almost as much as he wanted to fuck her. He had already moved his mouth away though. The very fucking last thing he ever wanted was to make her uncomfortable. He kissed her ribs, her arm pit, mostly to watch her squirm but also to learn all of her smells, kissed her elbow, and her curled fingers.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched him sit down beside her. He reached over and helped her sit up, her bound wrists making that action particularly difficult. Then he guided her over him while he lay back. She let herself be led. He positioned her straddling him, she was so easy to move like this, compliant, willing, but, most of all, enthusiastic about letting him take control. She sucked in a small gasp of air when he had her where he wanted. Her pussy rested on his lower stomach and his dick was hard against her ass.

He slid his hands in tandem over the insides of her thighs, let his thumbs brush her swollen lips, press into her hips, and continued up her sides, along her ribs, and then pulled her down onto him. Her arms relaxed with her wrists on the pillow just above his head. She felt almost weightless. The only part of her not supported by him were her knees. When he breathed she felt herself lifted with him, her breasts pressed hard into his chest. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips as he moved his hands to her ass. She liked being able to figure him out and not be too many steps behind. He wanted her to get used to letting him hold her up, feel safe.

Daryl kissed her cheek, her neck, her arm beside his head, and started to lift her ass. For a moment he knew it would be awkward and difficult for her but he had her. Having her lay on top of him was a wonderful feeling. For a brief flash he wished he could communicate that to her in words but then he focused on where his hands were. He had to strain just a little to reach behind her. He guided the tip of his dick into her hot, wet pussy, taking his time to brush against her clit before fully sliding in. Then he slowly pressed her hips down with his hands. She didn’t make a sound, she only breathed, her head tucked between them. Her breath was warm and almost damp on his chest.

He groaned enough for both of them. He adjusted his hips for a better angle and they both hitched in breaths. He didn’t know quite where to put his hands so he placed one on her lower back. When he brought his hips up he could keep her steady with that hand. She made a soft purring sound when he did that. He pulled out a little and slid back in, repeated, just to hear that sound again. His other hand searched her body as he rolled his hips. He wasn’t fucking her yet. He wanted to go slow as long as he could. When his fingers grazed the fold of her hip she twitched away from his hand but pressed her hips into his. He touched the side of her belly, she was so soft that he sighed, nothing in this world was soft anymore. He gently worked his hand between them, palm on her stomach, and circled her clit with a finger.

She pushed down onto his hand. She wasn’t in control of her body anymore. Her hips moved without her instruction, her arms were jelly beside his head, her mind was empty, and now every nerve in her body was either focused on her clit or his dick inside her. The slow, steady rhythm of his hips and finger were overwhelming. She wanted to grope and grab at something. Her hands clenched into fists. With her wrists bound she couldn’t touch anything. Her forehead was pressed hard into his chest and she was breathing her own recycled air in the space between them. He held her still with his hand on her back and couldn’t fuck him like every part of her ached to do. Panting, her eyes closed tight, she could feel her lips on his chest. Without thinking she bit. She knew it wasn’t hard, probably not even enough to bruise, but it was the only action her mind could find.

“Shit,” Daryl groaned, at first in surprise and then a wave of intense feeling ran from her mouth to his dick. His hips jerked as a reflex and she gasped. The place where she had bit him throbbed momentarily. He snatched his hand from between their bodies. He grabbed her with all of his strength and rolled them over. Kristina made a small oof sound and when he looked at her to make sure she was okay she was smiling. In one smooth motion he pinned her bound wrists above her head with one hand and swept one of her legs over his shoulder with the other.

He thrust deeper into her. He leaned into her leg as far as he felt he could without hurting her and put his mouth next to her ear.

“This what ya want woman?” he asked through gritted teeth, quickening his pace with shallower, faster thrusts. “Ya wanna be bad, that it?”

“Yes, oh god, yes Daryl,” she yelled. “Fuck!”

“Fine,” he growled as he lifted himself up enough to move his hand from her wrists. At first he gently slid his hand to her throat. She looked into his eyes and nodded. He squeezed and she rasped out a please. Just a bit more pressure and they found the sweet spot. Her breath was ragged and her eyes rolled back. He felt her leg wrap around him, pressing on his ass to push him deeper. His thrusts became more erratic as her muscles tightened around his dick.

He watched her face carefully as his orgasm started to tug at him. Her lips were parted, her eyes shut, and her cheeks flushed. She was so beautiful. Seeing his rough, tan hand around her pale throat nearly sent him over the edge. He didn’t pull back on his last thrust, he ground his hips against hers. He felt her groan in his hand before he heard it. Then he released her neck and her body rocked against him. Her muscles pulsed around his dick.

Her orgasm tore through her. She yelled his name and gasped. Loud, hitching breaths shook her chest. He let her leg slide off his shoulder, wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face in her breasts. His hips bucked against her. He felt her hands find his neck.The bandana strained against her movement. The sensation of the fabric on his skin made him moan a quiet, drawn-out fuck against her chest. He felt his cum pour into her. She wrapped her legs around him and held him as his entire body vibrated.

Kristina kissed the top of his head. She loved his smell and nuzzled her face into his hair for a moment longer. She felt his body relax on top of her. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her wrists, her cunt. His cum seeped out from between them before he pulled out. He slid his arms from underneath her and raised up to see her watching him. She held her bound wrists in front of her face. He didn’t think he had ever seen someone as beautiful as her in his life. He carefully pulled out of her with a small moan in his throat. He sat up and untied the bandana. He pressed his lips against each wrist. When he let her hands go she sat up and kissed him hard.

She flopped back down on the mattress, completely graceless. Daryl laid down beside her. She kissed his shoulder. It was so easy for them to forget what the world was like now. Walkers didn’t exist, they didn’t have to forage for toothpaste, potable water wasn’t a limited resource. Unfortunately this spell would break. They would have some daily tasks to do and normal human things to attend to but for a moment she enjoyed this small bubble of peace.

“Guess Dog’ll be needed some attention,” Daryl sighed. “Imma take him out and feed him. Ya want breakfast too?”

She smiled and nodded, her eyes half closed.

[89lana]

Daryl Dixon Fanfic 2.

After I received quite a lot of encouragement for my first fanfic here and the translation app also seems to work quite well, I'll

follow up with a second one right away.

Admittedly, I still have to deal with the technology. How to upload the stories here so that the whole text doesn't appear right away. But maybe one of you can help me with that.

Until then, happy reading.

Warning: 18+, Dom. detailed sex. Daryl Dixon x Fem.Reader

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Take your time

slowly and with relish licked his tongue over his lower lip and left a fleeting wet trace on it. How long has he been sitting here in this old red leather chair? was it minutes or hours. It felt like infinity and he wanted to savor every second of it.

The old bedroom was in full morning sun, giving him the opportunity to see every little corner, deepening what he so cherished in full clarity.

He knew, like everyone else in this goddamn world, that there was no eternity. Every second was valuable, and what seemed enduring could be lost forever tomorrow.

Relaxed and at peace, fully enjoying the moment, he leaned back in his chair. He wanted to burn every millimeter of this woman deep into his memories. The three moles under her left breast, the small scar on her left ankle, everything. But as relaxed as he was, the person across from him seemed tense. The naked woman's body trembled briefly under his gaze, which he slowly let slide over her body. " Relax yourself!" he urged YN encouragingly. But actually it amused him how her body reacts to his mere presence.

"How am I supposed to relax when you're licking your lips lazily with your tongue?" she whispered hoarsely. Oh, that tongue, Daryl's tongue, was a godsend.

Big and voluminous, wet and nimble, soft and tall. How she would like to feel this now. "Open your thighs, I want to see all of you!" his raspy voice snapped her out of her brief daydream. She hadn't liked noticing that she had started rubbing her thighs together. And as she slowly complied with this request, she already felt what he was about to see.

His eyes narrowed as they looked at her vulva and realized the auspicious glint that was a testament to her arousal, she was so beautiful. he shook his head imperceptibly how could she doubt herself so often, how could she not see how wonderful she was. How often had he asked himself at the beginning how such a wonderful woman as YN could be interested in a man like him.But the many days and the many nights they had spent together, the gestures, attentions and words that she sent him had healed some of his scars. He loved her, he adored her, he desired her Her nipples perky erected than Daryl's eyes wandered over her breasts.

Those wonderful big breasts. She tilted her head slightly and met him with a soft smile. "Please don't you ever want to touch me."

A small, inviting movement of his hand was enough to let her get up from the bed, on whose edge she had obediently persevered for the last few moments. Slowly she walked over to him and let her hips wander seductively from side to side.

When she was close enough to him, his hands grabbed her pelvis and pulled her towards him. Y.N's hands cupped Daryl's face gently and lovingly and stroked a strand of hair from his face. Her lips met his softly. She poured all her love into that kiss, which he gladly returned.

"Open my pants!" he whispered and she was only too happy to do so. She freed his manhood from his pants and cupped them carefully as she knelt in front of him. He opened his mouth but she cut him off." Daryl, I want, that you feel good. I just want you to enjoy today." Her long, narrow fingers gently played around his glans and elicited a deep sigh from him.

Slowly and always maintaining eye contact, she moved her head down. Licked his once with relish full length, from balls to tip, Daryl's right hand gently rested on her head, sucking it as she began alternately sucking his balls into her mouth and trying to get his penis as far into her mouth as possible . YN was careful not to let her speed increase in order to give him this pleasure for as long as possible.

He groaned happily. "You give me many new ideas..!" He whispered, "Not now, now I need more from you! Put it deeper in, I want to feel your throat!" But he was suddenly so hot that he didn't want to wait for her to follow.

Certainly his hand pushed her head steadily and deeper and deeper onto his cock until she began to choke the first. With one hand YN enclosed his still free shaft, which she didn't Got in the mouth and with the second one she massaged his balls. Darly's rhythm became faster and faster and his moaning louder. "Yes... like that. Grab it harder.!" She heard a twitch in his penis and knew he was almost ready

Daryl pulled her to him abruptly with his hand in her hair and kissed her passionately and roughly, while his free hand rubbed himself even more until he semen on her breasts spilled out. Panting, he broke away from her. "Would you also like to come to salvation?" he asked her with a dark grin and she nodded with her big doe eyes." Then lie down on your back on the floor and pull your legs apart at the ankles!". Without further ado she complied with his command. "You like to be my good girl! ” " Yes . always!"

"Well then......" Daryl let his left foot wander forward and placed it with the sole of the shoe directly on her middle. "Then bring yourself to the climax, I'm sure the rough sole will definitely feel good!" He grinned, making her swallow hard, "Go ahead, I have more in mind for today.......

[winchestershiresauce]

Thank you for tagging me, @budcooper!

rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that intrigues you and I’ll post a little snippet or tell you something about it!

there’s a lot of them and they’re spread out over quite a few fandoms so sorry not sorry!

DD - reluctant allies (Daryl Dixon)

JM - sacrifice (Joel Miller)

PD - skirt/domestic sub (Poe Dameron)

TT - teacher (Tig Trager)

TT - dom/exhibitionism (Tig Trager)

FM - fool in the rain (Frankie Morales)

JG - facesitting (Javi Gutierrez)

SG - soft smut (Santi Garcia)

SG - ldr angst (Santi Garcia)

SG - all day edge (Santi Garcia)

NB - soulmate AU (Nathan Bateman)

NB - AI love triangle (Nathan Bateman)

NB - gold star (Nathan Bateman)

DB - fat comedian reader (Dieter Bravo)

SG - confident reader/soft subby steven (Steven Grant)

BL - sex on bike (Bishop Losa)

Emily idea (Emily Galindo)

thigh riding (Daryl Dixon)

Learn to Ride (Daryl Dixon)

Body Heat (Daryl Dixon)

MC idea ex reader (Daryl Dixon)

Slow languid kisses (Daryl Dixon)

bruised battered broken (Daryl Dixon)

sunlight wake up (Daryl Dixon)

Touch (Dean Winchester)

cas edging (Castiel)

Dean - can’t sleep, fluff (Dean Winchester)

tension (Dean Winchester)

...That’s a lot of WIPs. 😂 I added the characters because there's so many.

No pressure tagging @rcughroad @say-al0e @foxilayde @daryl-dixon-daydreams @babiebucky and anyone else who wants to play

[frilly-chipmunk]

I have a request!

I've been reading fanfiction for years and I feel as though I've read just about everything... I need fic and author recommendations! Currently I'm looking for the following. I love detailed smut so please send me recs for a lot of that!

😍 =Really wanna find

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

😍 John Winchester // Daddy Winchester is in my dreams lmao. Secret relationship sorta thing is pretty hot with him.

Crowley

Lucifer

The Walking Dead + Fear

Daryl Dixon // Possessive!Daryl, anything that revolves around him "Claiming" you. Lots of dirty talk.

Carl Grimes // Please have this be after he's 18. Closet dom!Carl is hot af. I've had a soft spot for him after reading a similar fanfic.

😍 Bethyl // The whole age gap thing is hot and Daddy dom!daryl is to die for. Especially with dirty talk.

Nick Clark // I'd love to find some Dom!Nick or Dark & possessive!Nick, it's hard to find anything with him. I have slightly darker requests but I'll save those for later.

😍 Chris Manowa // Possessive Dom!Chris would be a god send

Attack on Titan

😍 Levi Ackerman // Dom!Levi who has a thing for dirty talk.

😍 Eren Yeager // Daddy dom!Eren, dirty talk, maybe a little knife play or gun play. Throw a praise kink in there just for some fun lol

Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter

MCU

Tony Stark

Loki

Peter Parker

Bucky

Harry Potter

Sirius Black

Draco Malfoy

Fred & George Weasley

LotR

Maze Runner

Thomas

Naruto

Sasuke

Shikamaru

Kiba

Itachi

Sasori

Deidara

Bring Me The Horizon

😍 Oli Sykes // Every since I found out he got fangs I need it in my life. Please. The need for hot, dirty, kinky vampiric fucking is urgent. I could go on and on about this. He's just fucking hot.

Black Veil Brides

😍 Andy Biersack // Vampire!Andy is a need ever since I read a fic of him being a sexy vampire lord who basically fucked your brains out every chapter. //

Sleeping with Sirens

Pierce the Veil

Pirates of the Caribbean

Jack Sparrow

The 100

😍 John Murphy // possessive Dom!John, especially when he's jealous. Just rough sex and dirty talk would be amazing.

Bellamy Blake

To wrap this up, the kinks into are kinda self explanatory. Not really into non con but you can send them.

[x-everrosekillings-x]

❌🏹Daryl Dixon: Confessions🏹❌

Overview: "Gemini and Daryl have been friends forever and she has been in love with Daryl for a long time. She finally finds the courage to tell Daryl how she feels but he is no where to be found. After asking Rick, she find him in the garage with Kelly who is weakening only jeans and a bra, that Woodbury slut. Gemini can't believe what she saw and goes to the only place she can cry alone, the wardens office. Meanwhile, Daryl tells Kelly that Gemini is the only one he will ever want and for her to leave him alone. Daryl goes off to find Gemini and tell her how he feels about her unaware that she saw Kelly with him in the garage. He find her in the wardens office and they both confess to each mother which leads to animalistic sex."

Warnings: SMUT (smut is marked) , language, Dom!Daryl, spanking (This is my first time writing smut so bare with me) Rating: 18+

Request for: psycholicious1 (Wattpad)

Gemini’s POV

It has been a month since myself and the rest of the group moved into the prison. I feel like I have adjusted rather quickly but my best friend Daryl not so much. He keeps to himself and refuses to sleep in a cell like the others which doesn’t surprise me one bit. I’ve known Daryl since we were children and I have been crushing on him since we were teenagers. I haven’t told him how I feel about him, not yet.

My favorite pass time is watching Daryl on watch duty. The way he stands up in the guard tower keeping a watchful eye over me and the rest of the group. The way he hold his crossbow so the muscles of his strong arms flex. I always watches from a distance usually from the entrance of the cell block so she isn’t caught.

“Would you just tell him already.” A voice says snapping my attention away from Daryl.

I turn to meet the owner of the voice, Maggie. Maggie and I have become quite close since meeting at Hershel’s farm. She is always so positive and she’s a good energy to have around.

“Maggie, you scared the shit outta me.” I say.

“Sorry Gem. But seriously are you just going to sit here and drool or are you going to do something? It’s obvious you’re in love with him. ”

“It’s not that easy Mag. What if I tell him and he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore?”

“If he’s truly your friend then he won’t judge you or want to stop being friends. Just tell him and get it over with.” Maggie says.

Shes right. I can’t keep this a secret. I think to myself.

“You’re right Maggie. I will tell him tomorrow.”

“Hey, glad to help.” Maggie says with a wink as she walks away.

“Tomorrow’s the day.” I say quietly to myself.

The sun begins to set on another day. I decide to turn in a bit early to prepare exactly what I’m going to say to him. Making my way to my cell I collapse on my bunk and run over different ways in my head. My brain is to busy for me to get any sleep so I just stay up and wait for the sun to rise.

The next day I pick out the perfect outfit. Black jean shorts, a white tank top and boots. Simple. Just how Daryl likes. I brush my auburn hair it and let it spill over my shoulders and half way down my back.

I make my way out of the cell block and out into the humid Georgia morning. Putting a hand over my eyes I look for any signs of Daryl, who is no where to be seen. Rick, the leader of the group, stands by the prisons fences talking to his son Carl. If anyone is going to know where Daryl is it’s him. I run over to him calling his name.

“Rick!”

“Hey Gemini. How can I help you?” He says.

“Do you know where Daryl is?”

“ I think he’s back in the garage working on that truck that I told him needs working on.”

“Thanks Rick. Hi Carl.” I say turning and almost running towards the garage at the back of the prison.

I continue to run until the door to the garage comes into sight making me slow to a walk. As my destination grows closer so do my nerves. A mix of excitement and fear naw at me. Taking a deep breath I reach for the door handle but stop at the sound of a male voice followed by a laugh, a woman’s laugh. Confused I open the door just enough to let me see inside. What I see makes me gasp and tears come to my eyes. There stood Daryl and on the hood of the truck sat Kelly, one of the people from Woodbury that Rick brought to the prison. She wore only a black lace bra, blue jeans, and black heels. Her blonde hair up in a messy bun on top of her head. Tears begin to flow down my cheeks as I run to the only place I know that I can be alone, the wardens office. I found it exploring the prison the first few weeks we were here. Nobody else knows about it except Daryl and I. Upon reaching it I throw open the door and let it slam behind me. I find the nearest corner and sit in it, pulling my knees. Dropping my head in my hands I just sit and cry. The tears now flowing like two waterfalls.

Daryl’s POV

“Will you just leave me the fuck alone already! How many times do I have to tell ya I ain’t interested?” I yell at Kelly.

I have just gotten to the garage and she was there already waiting for me in her bra and jeans. She has been following me around like a lost puppy since she got here from Woodbury. I have to admit she is a looker but she’s nothing compared to Gemini. Gemini is my best friend and I’ve loved her for so long. I’ve just been to scared to tell her, thinkin’ she would reject me.

“Oh come on baby you know you want me.” Kelly says biting her bottom lip and leaning back against the hood of the truck.

“Don’t call me that. You are not what I want.” I snap.

“ Well, who do you want then?” She says propping herself up on her elbows.

“Gemini. It’s always gonna be Gemini. From now on you best leave me alone you little bitch.” I growl before leaving her in the garage.

Opening the door I see Rick walking towards the garage. He motions for me to come to him.

“Hey, have you seen Gemini? I have something I need to tell ‘er.” I say.

“Yeah, I just talked to her. She was looking for you. Just came to see if she had found you or not.” He replies.

“I haven’t seen her. Thanks Rick.”

I decide to start with the cells block, checking her cell first. Peeking inside I see she is not there. Her bed is still made and the book she’s been reading is closed and sitting on her desk. I decide to ask around  the cell block to see if anyone has seen her but I was met with the same answer each time. I haven’t seen her since this morning. Next, I check the guard towers. She’s not there either. There is only one other place I can think of that she would be, the wardens office. She goes there when she needs to spend time alone. She told me about once before but never told me exactly where it is. Luckily for me I can track and I’ve been to a few prisons in my life time, not as an inmate but to visit my old man and to bail my brother out, so I know the layout of them pretty well. The layout hardly changes from prison to prison. I start by going to the top floor of the prison. The wardens office is usually on the top floor, away from the prisoners.

The floors on every level of the prison are dusty making it easy to see any foot prints or disturbances. And sure enough a set of fresh foot prints lead right to a closed door with big white letters on it that read WARDENS OFFICE. I open the door slowly looking around for any sign of Gemini.

“Gemini?” I call out.

Gemini’s POV

I hear the door to the office creak open and Daryl’s gravely voice call out “Gemini?”

I just sit with my back against the wall and my head in my hands hoping that he won’t see me. But of course Daryl being Daryl he spots me instantly. His heavy footstep make their way to wear I sit. He kneels down to my level and I feel him place a large hand on my shoulder, sending me back into an uncontrolled sobbing fit.

“Gem, hey, what’s the matter.” He asks quietly while rubbing my shoulder.

I look up at him with an angry and confused expression. I can’t believe he has the nerve to ask me that! “ Like you don’t know? I saw you with that Woodbury slut, Kelly! You two are really perfect for each other you know that?” I yell at him. I let out a sob before continuing. “You know, my step mom was right all along. No one will ever love me and I’m just going to have to deal with it.”

I get up and start to walk towards the door but a hand grabbing my arm stops me. I turn back to find Daryl on his feet and looking at me with soft ocean blue eyes. He releases my arm and grabs my hand instead, pulling me toward him until our bodies are only inches apart.

“But I love you. I always have. I was just to scared of being rejected to say anything."  He says. His voice is smooth and his words sincere.

"Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“I love you to Daryl. I have for a long time but I was to scared to say anything because I didn’t want to lose you.” I say.

“I ain’t goin’ no where Gem.” Daryl says.

“You don’t know that.” I whisper knowing all to well the dangers beyond the fence.

“I’m here with you now. That’s all that matters.” He says bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I lean into his into his touch and watch as he brings his lips to mine. Wrapping an arm around my waist he pulls me to him so my body is flush against his. His kiss is rough and needy, I return it eagerly. All of our feeling for one another begin to pour out of us. His tongue runs feverishly against my bottom lip, begging for entrance which I gladly give. His tongue enters and we fight for dominance which he wins. I tangle my fingers in his hair pulling lightly making him moan into my mouth. His large as his hands roam my body, slipping under my tank top and begin to massage my breasts roughly. His lips move to my neck finding my soft spot almost immediately, nipping and licking at it, placing his mark for everyone to see. One of his hands traces down my stomach before slipping past the waist of my shorts and into my soaked panties.

“So wet.” He mumbles into my neck.

“Only for you baby.” I say.

He rubs small quick circles around my clit with a callused finger making a moan escape past my lips. Wanting to return the favor, I place one of my hands between his legs and begin to rub his already hard length through his jeans. He groans and presses into my hand before suddenly pulling back, removing his finger from my clit, making me whine from the loss of friction. Daryl moves me backwards until my back hits the wall. Before I know it my hands are being pinned above my head and his lips are at my ear. I’m starting to be thankful for those nights of heavy drinking with him where I told him all of my kinks and soft spots, including my BDSM kink. I didn’t think he would remember but I’m glad he did.

“Did I say you could do that?” He growls.

“No, sir.” I moan. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Thats more like it. Now, how about you be a good girl and take those clothes off.” He says in a deep lusty tone.

I shiver at his words, excitement running through my body. Daryl releases my wrists to allow me to do as I am told. I start with my boots and tank top, pulling the fabric over my head agonizing slow. I look over at Daryl who now has a hand in his pants undoubtedly pleasuring himself. Next, I wiggle out of my shorts making sure to not break eye contact with him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something sunshine?” He says motioning to my bra. “Actually leave it, I want to do it.”

Daryl removes his hand from his jeans and walks over to me, placing himself behind me. I move my hair off to one side to give him access to the small metal clasps of my bra which he undoes expertly. His lips find my neck again as he slides off one strap after the other making it fall to the floor. His large hands find my bare breasts. He takes my hard nipples in his fingers, pinching them and rolling them between his fingers making me gasp and shiver beneath his touch. I can feel his hard length against my bottom and want nothing more to press myself into it. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long. Daryl pulls me harder against him as he grinds his erection against my clothed, throbbing core.

“See that desk over there?” He growls, his hot breath hitting my skin causing goosebumps to rise.

“Yes, sir.” I whine.

“Go over there and bend over it.” He demands.

“Whatever you want, sir.” I purr.

Daryl spanks me as I nearly run over to the old wooden desk. I bend over it obediently and wait for him. I can feel his eyes on me. He circles around me, like a lion circling its prey, taking me in. I hear him inhale sharply.

“Such a good girl, does what ever I say.” He praises.

“Anything for you.” I say wiggling my butt slightly.

Daryl growls deeply before stripping himself of his winged vest and t- shirt. His eyes are dark with lust as he removes my panties in one motion. His hand spanks me again before massaging my pussy, his fingers slipping between my wet folds with ease.

“Oh, god, Daryl.” I moan and bite my lip.

“Remember that girl in the garage sweetheart? Shes been following me around since she got here. Know what she wanted?” He says while rubbing rough circles around my clit.

“No, sir.” I almost scream, my wetness now spreading between my thighs.

“She wanted this cock. But she ain’t never gonna get it. No, you see this cock belongs to you.”

“Please, Daryl!” I beg.

“Please what? Tell me what you want sweetheart.”

“God, please fuck me!”

Daryl wastes no time finding his belt. I hear the jingle of his buckles as he undoes it.

“So fuckin’ beautiful.” He says. “And all mine.”

Daryl takes his cock in runs it along my fold collecting some of my wetness. He aligns himself at my entrance and pushes his thick cock into me slowly. I feel myself stretch around him. He fit perfectly and he stretches me in all the best ways. His hands find my hips before being to thrust into to me, hard, making me scream out in pleasure. I rock back against his thrust, earning grunts and growls of approval. I whine loudly as he continues to pound into me, keeping myself pressed into his hips. I spread my legs a bit more to give him better access. He takes advantage of this, thrusting his entire length into me.

“Fuck!” I moan probably loud enough for the whole cell block to hear but right now I couldn’t care less.

“You’re so fucking tight sweetheart.” He says gripping my hips tighter.

The air is filled with the sounds of my moans and his grunts. I feel the delicious feeling of pressure building up inside of me, letting me know that my climax is just barley out of reach.

“Fuck, Daryl! I’m so close.” I cry out, clutching the edge of the desk.

Fuck, me too sweetheart.“ He says, his thrusts never slowing.

"Please, can I cum sir?” I beg.

“Nah, you wait.” Daryl taking charge is incredibly sexy. Not wanting to disappoint him, I obey him and find the strength not to explode in messy pleasure.

“Daryl!” I plead. I feel myself tighten around his cock. My legs begin to shake from all the pent up pleasure.

He thrusts into me a few more times before I just can’t hold back any longer. My vision blurred as I came hard, which triggered Daryl’s orgasm, spilling his hot seed into me. He slows his pace, thrusting slowly for a short while to help both of us ride out our orgasms.

Panting, I rest my head on the desk. Daryl lips find my shoulder before removing himself from me. I turn my head to meet his lips, kissing him passionately.

“I love you.” I say.

“I love ya too sweetheart.” He says with a smile.

[ao3feed-darylxcarol]

Lay my heart down at her feet

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2vGs2dO

by zaom

“You’re hard, aren’t you, baby?” she asked sweetly. Daryl blushed and hid his red face against her neck, feeling his dick twitch. Carol pressed a kiss against his temple and ran her hands down his bare back until they reached his buttocks. She squeezed, making Daryl give out a soft whimper against her shoulder before hooking her fingers underneath his boxers and dragging them down his legs, exposing his cock and ass.

  Because we need more dom!carol.

Words: 3707, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Daryl Dixon, Carol Peletier

Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier

Additional Tags: Smut, Sub Daryl Dixon, Dom Carol Peletier, Fluff, Praise Kink, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pet Names, Daryl Dixon has a praise kink, My First Work in This Fandom

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2vGs2dO

[lady-phasma]

Happiness at the end of the world

Chapter 2 of ?

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; this is really different than anything I have ever shared on Tumblr before - it's fluffy and has lots of feelings and quite a few warnings; Smut, Kinda Friends to Lovers, Awkward Flirting, Not Canon Compliant, PTSD, mentions of past SA, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Daryl Dixon, p in v sex, ultra-Light Dom/sub

Summary a/n: I'm terrible at these, it's just more fluffy smutty stuff like chapter 1. No beta. 3.6k words.

They lay in the fading light, drowsy, him on his stomach, her on her side. Kristina had tucked an arm under her head and was tracing lazy circles and swirls on his back with her other hand. His breathing was slow and relaxed. She watched his back rise and fall with each breath. Sometimes the shiny scars caught the light. She was brave and occasionally traced one, outlined it, caressed it. But mostly she stayed away from them. She wanted him to feel her adoration not feel like a freak show for someone to stare at. She understood that feeling too well.

Their friendship had graduated quickly as a lot of things seemed to do in this new world. There wasn’t time to get to know people the way one used to. There had been a couple of nights of safety and beer with him. One night of utter drunkenness with some others in Alexandria. Mostly there had been stolen moments of respite between runs and work details and fear. She had told him a lot of things about her past and intuited a lot about his.

Daryl stirred and turned his head to face her. She smiled down at him. She felt so relaxed with him. Possibly she had never lain naked without even a sheet with anyone in her life. She was honestly amazed at how comfortable they both were.

“Whatcha thinkin’?” he asked somewhat sleepily.

“Lots,” she replied. “Too much to say right now. Also thinkin’ about how perfect your ass is.” She drug her fingertips down to the hollow of his lower back but not quite to his ass. She watched a shiver run through him. Well it is perfect, she thought.

“Sure,” he replied. She could almost hear him roll his eyes. He brushed his knuckles over one of her nipples. He shifted to lay on his side and kissed her nipple, her breast, her shoulder, gently he kissed her lips. He let his lips linger and breathed her in. Then he rolled and stretched like a giant cat, arching his back and groaning. They weren’t young anymore and they would hurt tomorrow. The muscles they had used today were different than the ones they used when killing walkers. When he laid back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, she rested a hand on his stomach just below his chest. He was so tough, so taught. After all this time she was still soft in places, smooth, round. He apparently had no body fat, just exquisite muscle.

She liked touching him. She couldn’t get enough of him. But it nearly broke her heart to really see that his chest was as covered with scars as his back. New ones over older, faded ones. Dark, deep scars alongside barely visible ones. He was a tough motherfucker for sure. Not all of these were from something horrible and scary but how many were? She had so many questions. Which were made since the world ended? Which from before? How many from The Sanctuary? All horribly invasive questions that she would never ask, only wait for him to drop crumbs of information.

“What’s this from?” he asked and she jumped a little. Almost as if he had read her mind he touched one of her scars. It tickled when he did. It wasn’t large but it was noticeable. It sat low on her belly just to the right of center. It had a smaller, less obvious sister on the left.

“Oh,” she rolled half onto her back but didn’t pull away from his caressing fingertips. “Before everything, I had a partial hysterectomy.” She laughed a little. “I didn’t want kids and I had a condition that couldn’t be cured so they took out most of my lady bits. They left one ovary and my cervix. Because of my age I guess, pretty young.”

His eyes were wide but not judgmental. A little concerned perhaps so she explained.

“Endometriosis. A big word that means a lot of pain and bullshit but isn’t usually life threatening. Fortunately for us I made this decision ages ago and that’s why I didn’t freak when you didn’t wear a condom,” she smirked and winked at him.

“So ya can’t ever…?” he trailed off.

“Nope, no baby making equipment in there,” she grinned. She stroked his arm from wrist to shoulder, still trying to touch every inch of his skin. “It was definitely a perk after the world went to shit, no periods either.”

His hand rested on her lower belly, almost spanning the width of her. He felt like a giant sometimes even though she wasn’t particularly short and he wasn’t abnormally tall. She liked the illusion. She sighed, enjoying the weight of his hand, the ease of being with him. She felt his fingers tracing her scar again, finding the other of the pair, following the jagged lines of her stretch marks. Walkers were a great weight loss plan, she hadn’t always had this small body. And she had never let anyone touch those much less felt like she could almost enjoy it, especially with his rough hands. But it did still make her twinge with that familiar insecurity, just a little, and she felt herself accidentally recoil. Without missing a beat Daryl grabbed her hips and pulled her on top of him, kissing her roughly. He held her for a moment, her laying on him, his hands on her ass, her head on his chest.

Her mind raced with all the things she wanted to do, say, ask, and then her stomach growled. She held her breath hoping it had been her imagination until he started laughing. It was contagious. He laid her on the bed, still laughing a bit while she giggled and covered her face with her hands.

“Hungry, huh?” he goaded.

She nodded and answered with a muffled uhuh behind her hands, more giggles. He stood up, grabbed some presumably filthy jeans from the floor, and yanked them on. She couldn’t help watching him, jeans sitting low on his hips, as he walked to the kitchenette.

He came back to the bed and plopped down. He brought what was beginning to be the norm for every meal: part of a loaf of homemade bread, some fruit, some meat jerky that was mostly just salt and probably venison. He sat, legs crossed, barefoot, hair a mess, no shirt, and looked as happy as a little kid with a new toy. He might not smell like he was still in the woods but he ate his food like he still was. This thought made her giggle and he looked up at her with a side-eye that sent her into snorts of laughter. She yanked the sheet over her lap as she sat up to eat before he inhaled everything.

“Chew often, Dixon?” she teased while trying not to inhale a bite of bread.

“I’ll teach ya to laugh at me,” he growled as he crammed the last of his bread in his mouth. She squealed and he pinned her down. Food crushed between them, flew off the bed. He continued chewing loudly and comically while kissing her sides, her stomach, her neck, and chest. His unshaven face tickled her even more. She raked her hands through his hair and laughed harder than she had in years. Her stomach and sides ached with laughter. He finally swallowed the last of his bread and took a deep breath, flopping onto his back with dramatic flair and a huge exhale.

Still struggling to catch her breath Kristina laid her head on his chest. They both stared at the ceiling, small giggles bubbling out of her occasionally. She felt around above her head until she found his arm and she hugged it across her breasts. He maneuvered the sheet down from her chest so there was nothing between their skin and cupped one breast.

Dog had padded into the room to investigate the commotion. He looked at Daryl with accusation.

“Ah shit,” Daryl groaned as he stood up. “Imma take ‘em out.” Before he stepped off the mattress he placed a kiss on her forehead.

She heard them when they came back in: some yipping and a lots of whosagoodboy. Daryl kicked off his boots before sitting on the bed.

“You got one of those nasty rolled cigarettes handy?” she asked.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he went into the living room and came back with a small leather pouch. Like so many guys she had known in high school and college were able to do with weed he balanced the components on his lap. Pinch, roll, lick, voila. He handed her the nearly-perfect cigarette and started working on his own. She scooted up so she was leaning with her back against the wall. Still naked, still relishing being comfortable naked. He lit his cigarette and held the flame out to hers then clicked the lighter shut. He was fastidious in a lot of his actions but not his housekeeping, he dropped the pouch on the floor and sat on the bed facing her. Cigarette clamped in the corner of his mouth he reached down and snagged an empty bottle off the floor for their ashtray.

She adored the way he sat cross legged and grinned at the thought that he hadn’t put his underwear on, grinned that she could take his jeans off and have him again if she wanted. She tapped her ashes into the bottle and picked some tobacco off her lips.

“Damn this shit is rank, Dixon,” she exhaled a cloud of the stale smoke. “But thank you for sharing.”

He grunted toward her, ashed, and took another long drag on his smoke. “It is but it’s all we got. Nobody’s tryin’ to grow anything ya can’t eat.” They smoked mostly in silence.

Kristina put her cigarette out. She stood up to go pee, wobbling a bit on her weak legs. She wasn’t going to take the sheet with her but wasn’t quite ready to walk naked in front of him. She looked down and spotted one of his button down shirts in the floor. She leaned over, holding the wall for balance. He was finishing his cigarette and watching her. She dropped the sheet, slipped the shirt on, and started to button it.

“Where ya goin’?” he mumbled.

“Gotta pee,” she flashed an almost embarrassed smile at him.

“Unh-uh,” he wasn’t smiling. “Take that off.” He tipped his head toward her, indicating the shirt. She groaned in her head, it couldn’t have been that easy. She slowly shrugged the shirt off her shoulders. She hadn’t had time to button it so when she shrugged it started to fall, catching only on her breasts and now-hard nipples. She tugged at the hem and it fell away completely. She was too aware of her breasts while she was standing, how different they looked from when she was laying down. Ugh she thought again because literally every body part she had she now wanted to hide. Wanted him to stop looking at her. He didn’t stop.

“Better,” he said. He jerked his head toward the bathroom and took a long drag on his cigarette. His sign that she was free to go but to do so she had to be naked. She wanted to die. Shrivel up and disappear. But she set her jaw and carefully stepped off the mattress. She was conscious of every imperfection and movement, feeling things she realized she hadn’t felt since before. She wasn’t angry with him exactly, not thrilled but not angry. She felt cracks in her armor. But she put one foot in front of the other and made her way to the bathroom, in reality only a dozen steps or so but in her excruciating thoughts it felt like miles.

He never took his eyes off her after he put out his cigarette. He shifted, adjusted for the increasing erection he was getting, his pants becoming uncomfortable. She didn’t close the door all the way and he listened to everything. Something about her allowing him to hear this excited him. He tugged at his jeans and tried to be still when she came back into the bedroom. He couldn’t get enough of her. She walked toward him carrying the lantern from the bathroom. He hadn’t even noticed that it was almost dark now. It cast an unusual shadow, lighting her from the side where the lantern hung from her hand. Her full hips, the slight slope of her belly meeting the curve above her naked pussy, he couldn’t look at anything but her.

She sat the lantern next to the bed. Before she could get back on the mattress his hands caught her hips and centered her in front of him. He was sitting so low that his eyes were almost level with her pussy and she blushed, hard. Her hands flenched to cover herself and he stopped them. Even in the dim light he could see her blush move down her face and neck and flood her chest. He looked up at her leaning in closer and closer. She was mortified but incredibly grateful that she had kept up shaving at every opportunity. She was pretty sure the end of the world had ushered in the revival of the huge bush but she couldn’t stand it. Somehow shaving her pussy completely felt like armor, powerful, and all signs pointed to Daryl Dixon liking it.

“Damn,” he sighed as he closed the distance and kissed her just above her clit. Kristina felt her head swim, thought she might pass out, and he had her wrists. She couldn’t hold onto him for balance but she also realized he would never let her fall. Her vision blurred but she forced herself to focus on his searching eyes. He was looking up at her. Disheveled hair, scruffy beard, heavy-lidded eyes, and he was kissing. Just kissing but she was shaking all over. And then it wasn’t just kissing.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, exhaling a hum against her. His tongue was slow and gentle. He had never done this before. The porn his brother used to watch didn’t make it feel like this. That stuff made everything look… gross. But none of this was, would be. This felt completely natural. She tasted wonderful, salty and a little bitter but he thought part of that was from their sex earlier, that if he did this first it would be nothing but salt and sweet and whatever this other amazing taste/smell was. He wanted to go slowly, not just for her but because this really did seem natural. He could feel her tremble while he held her. That he wasn’t entirely sure was natural but he was still learning to pay attention to her queues.

He paused and listened, looking up at her. Her breathing was shallow and not at all like how it had been before. This was more like gasping. He stood up and cupped her face in his hands.

“What did I do?” he asked softly, gently.

She shook her head in hands. “Nothing, not you. I need to sit for a moment.”

She sat down on the mattress and had the silliest thought Well fuck, that escalated quickly. She knew what to do but not how to communicate with him in this moment. Especially in a way that wouldn’t wound him, push him away, or make him doubt his instincts, his perfect instincts.

He didn’t reach to comfort her or hold her or touch her at all. He wasn’t afraid or anxious. He was confused and his brow knitted together expressing that but otherwise he was a rock, solid, reliable, there. So she took a deep breath and struggled to find things on her list: 5 green things or something similar. She did reach out for his hand while she scanned the room, sure she looked like a wild animal but not able to care. He held her hand or, more accurately, let his hand be squeezed. He used his other hand to pull the sheet over her. He thought she would want that. She finally mumbled the last brown thing of 5 because goddamn if Daryl didn’t have the most monochromatic life ever with only brown, grey, or black to choose from. This made her smile. She was coming back to herself, grounding. He noticed the smile and moved a little closer to her.

“Hey,” he whispered, searching her face for some clue as to what he needed to do. “Hey. Ya okay?”

“Um, yeah, I will be, I just need…” she mumbled. “Water maybe?” So of course he got her some. She gulped it and breathed and leaned back against the wall.

“Hi,” she opened her eyes and looked at him. “So I can explain that or we can pretend it didn’t happen and talk about it later but I have to tell you either way: not your fault.” She reached for his hand again. He took hers and gently, soothing, rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

“Ya can tell me anythin,” he said, his shoulders visibly relaxed. “Imma good listener,” he teased her and they both smiled.

“Well, if you were anyone else, Daryl,” she said, “I probably wouldn’t but you are truly the coolest cat, no judgment, and ya have this fundamental understanding that life hands out shit nonstop.” She smiled to soften her words but he looked down at their hands anyway. God now she wanted him closer, pressed against her, wanted that small, safe feeling.

“Do me a kindness, Dixon?” she asked. “Come over here?” He nodded, let her hand go, and sat beside her, back against the wall. She was working up the words, the ways to speak around things, to communicate pretty awful shit without saying it. Plus she didn’t want to talk about it all night or have it tarnish everything they had done before. It was helping that he was next to her, gave her some stability as she stumbled forward with this pseudo-confession.

“So ya know how I told you I had seen shit too, like before, and we talked about some of it, or mostly I talked and you grunted?” she began, throwing him a smile to emphasize the teasing. He wasn’t having it and reached out and took her hand in both of his and just rested them in his lap.

“Well when I was young, younger than I want to say, but it’s important so I have to,” she watched Daryl’s jaw clench. “When I was four years old a man did things… I’m not comfortable talking about. You know what PTSD is?” She continued when he shrugged, yeah/kinda/maybe. “Well it’s a bunch of words that mean ‘something bad happened that fucked you up for a long damn time.’ Most people know it ‘cause soldiers get it from combat. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Means that a trauma was bad enough, wrong enough, that our brains can’t deal with it. Shit, I figure now everyone has it and it’s just the human condition but before it was a diagnosis. Anyway, short version, some people who have this get flashbacks, like the thing is happening again right then and there. Like those Vietnam Vets in movies who hear a helicopter and dive under a table. That shit’s not made up. That is fact. And it fucking sucks.” Her voice broke on the last two words and what she feared would happen, did. She started to cry silently.

God fucking dammit I didn’t want to do this, she yelled in her head. But perfect Dixon only waited and rubbed her hand. She sniffled and gulped some air. She wanted to get this done.

“One of the things he did to me I can see and hear and feel when the flashback comes and unfortunately it’s what you started to do. So I kinda go into survival mode, well my brain does, and I don’t get a choice.” She looked at him, tried to read something in his face this time and was startled to see his eyes were wet. He wasn’t going to cry but she knew then that he had them. She had suspected, as any good psychologist would, that he had PTSD from childhood trauma of some sort but she wasn’t positive his manifested with flashbacks. Now she was. Her protective instincts kicked in and she reached toward him, every intention to ease his pain but he intercepted her. He pressed her back against his chest and she curled her legs up next to his, not quite in his lap. He put both his arms around her and she let her head drop back onto his chest. She closed her eyes.

“So that was not anything you did. And hey, check this out,” she turned a little awkwardly to make sure he was listening. Satisfied she put her head back. “I want you to do it. I mean I really, really do. I want Daryl’s mouth and only his mouth on my cunt.” She felt his hips shift a little when she said the last word. “I just need to work up to it or have some notice. It’s perfectly normal and even wonderful that you want to do that. I just can’t do it without some mental preparation. Maybe you know things like that in your life, ya kind hafta get your mind right first? So yeah, too heavy for you?”

He took a deep breath and cautiously said “Heavy, sure, but I got ya.” He sighed and tightened his arms around her.

“So does that mean you still wanna go down on me? Try again soon?”

“Fuck yeah,” he replied, the gravelly words vibrating through his chest into her. “Hell yeah I do. Ya make me wanna do a lot.”

“Good, that’s the best answer a woman could hope for.”

Chapter 3

[ao3-rickylmerthurj2]

Mercy by <a rel="author" href="/users/rickocracy/pseuds/rickocracy">rickocracy</a>

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2EgZtTA

by rickocracy

"Back straight. Yeah, like that." A calloused hand ran along the naked back of the officer, down to the dip of his spine and just sitting above his ass; taking in the baby smooth skin that had yet to be soiled by the Dom. Soft whimpers escaped his sub; the chains rattling relentlessly as he tugged them.

"Ah ah, spread'em." Rick threw his head back with his mouth ajar, a silent scream of pleasure escaping the plump lips when the horse crop in his Dom's hand had slipped between his legs and hit his knees apart. This is exactly what Rick needed, what he wanted.

"Safe word?" Daryl whispered hotly into his ear and Rick breathlessly answered him.

"Mercy."

Words: 250, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Walking Dead (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Daryl Dixon, Rick Grimes, Glenn Rhee, Maggie Greene, Shane Walsh, Lori Grimes, Carl Grimes, Judith Grimes, Michonne, Merle Dixon, Andrea Harrison, Beth Greene, Carol Peletier, Sophia Peletier

Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes, Shane Walsh/Lori Grimes (background), Maggie Greene/Glenn Rhee (background), Michonne/Andrea (background)

Additional Tags: Dom/sub, Dom!Daryl, Sub!Rick, Major!Subdrop, BDSM, Sexy Times, Angst?, jealous!Daryl, Possessive!Daryl, Upset!Rick, Rick needs to be controlled, Rick is falling apart, Major!Domdrop, Lori is being a bitch, Shane is actually trying to be a good guy, Carl is living with Rick's grandparents, Carl is being an antsy shit, Judith is just being Judith, angry!Daryl, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2EgZtTA