#The walking Dead fanfiction

[holdmytesseract]

One Night or Forever?

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When one thing leads to another, you and Daryl spend a passionate night together at the CDC. Unfortunately, neither of you is interpreting the signals right afterwards...

Warnings: 18+! MDNI! smut (not entirely graphic, but it's definitely there - like, you know exactly what's going on), uhhh sub and dom Daryl? unprotected rough-ish sex? Daryl gets a bj (yes, you read that right), he's a bit mean, too - but also a cutie patootie, uhh slight angst? bit of drama, alcohol - drunk-ish Daryl and tipsy reader, fluff, swear words, bickering

Set in Season 1!

Word Count: 4,5k

a/n: You want it, you got it, friends. I don't know what this is, though - or which demons possessed me as I wrote it. I really don't. I also don't know how I should feel about it. Embarrassed? Proud? Send help, lol.

Anyways, I hope you like this! Please go easy on me. Smut isn't really my forte...

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Booyah!"

Daryl's toast had been the starting shot for an evening full of conversation, fun, laughter - and alcohol. Some would say reams of alcohol. Wine, booze, beer - you and the group stopped at nothing. That was probably the reason why everyone staggered somewhere on a scale between tipsy and shit faced drunk at the end of the evening.

You were currently on your way to your personal room - something you'd describe as a luxury. Sure, back at the quarry you had your own tent, but there was a huge difference between that and a whole goddamn room. With a own freaking shower! It was crazy. Who would've thought that something so plain and simple would become such a valued, precious thing? Most likely nobody, because it was something taken for granted.

Well... Not anymore. Not since the world went to shit.

After passing a very drunk Glenn on the way, you more or less stumbled into your room. Tipsy... You were definitely tipsy. Without a single care in the world, you started to shed your clothes the moment the door shut close behind you. All you wanted to do was sleep. You had too much alcohol coursing through your veins to search for something you could use as a pyjama. You hadn't a problem with sleeping naked. Not tonight.

Unfortunately had your plan a catch... One that you weren't aware of yet.

This wasn't your room.

You were just about to free your body of the last piece of fabric you were wearing - a pair of admittedly beautiful dark blue lace panties, when a sudden voice managed to almost send you into cardiac arrest.

"Wha' the fuck 'r ya doin' in my room?!"

You startled so bad, that you almost lost balance and fell flat on your ass. Your balance was a bit off-track anyways, due to the wine...

With wide eyes you turned around to face the intruder.

"Daryl?"

You blinked. "What are you doing here?" He scoffed; his cheeks puffed out and reddened. He had been drinking way more than you did, and it showed. The archer's hands were fumbling clumsily with the fly of his jeans. "Jus' been taken a damn piss, 'n 'm comin' back to find ya standin' in my room." You crossed your arms over your bare - an information which hadn't reached Daryl's brain yet - chest. "This is clearly my room, Dixon." He scoffed again. "'S not!" "Yes, it is!" "'S not!" The man took a few wobbly steps closer. "Go bullshit someone else, I-" He stopped abruptly in the middle of his sentence; eyes widening to the size of plates. Now the information had been received and processed.

"Yer almost naked," he stated; bluntly staring.

Oh, you suddenly realised and remembered as well. He was right.

In any other situation, you'd have frantically tried to cover yourself up and perhaps even threw an insult at the man standing across from you, but the alcohol lowered your boundary of shame and loosened you up; making you see things more relaxed.

You huffed out a breath. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Daryl still blinked and tried very hard to not let his eyes drop, but that was an almost impossible task for the alcoholized man. "Why?" You shrugged your shoulders. "'Cause I wanted to go to sleep." The archer swallowed hard. "In my room? Naked? Ya lost yer damn mind, woman?" "It's my room," your tipsy self was still profoundly convinced, while you made your way over to the bed on slightly wobbly legs. Daryl just watched you; flabbergasted, speechless, shocked - and incredibly turned on. After all, he had a damn pretty woman in his room - no, bed. Half naked!

"You could join me, Dixon." He scoffed again and tried to walk in a straight line over to the armchair; accepting his fate. "In yer damn dreams. 'S ain't gonna help me - or my hard-on." You giggled at his words like a schoolgirl and rolled around in the sheets. "That the reason why you can't get that zipper up? You like me, Daryl? Like what you see?" You pestered him with questions; smirking, and watched his cheeks redden even more - if that was physically possible and your eyes didn't betray you. "Shuddup," Daryl just growled in response. You giggled again, before a long beat of silence passed between the both of you.

The alcohol didn't just lower your boundary of shame... It also caused you to become bolder. "I could help you with that, you know..." You tried to sound as flirty and seductive as possible and turned in the sheets once more, but now to face the man sitting across from the bed. You perched yourself onto your stomach and crossed your ankles in the air; swaying your legs.

Gods, you felt like a teenager again. Damn the alcohol and your crush on the archer. It was a dangerous combination, since you hadn't planned to actually act on said crush. Well, and here you were now in his - nu.uh, your - bed, almost naked and trying to seduce him.

Some might say this escalated quickly...

"Help me with wha'?" The archer finally responded after a long moment; dumbfounded. His usually very smart and witty brain slowed down by the alcohol. You thought for a hot minute that he had already fallen asleep on you. You rolled your eyes and groaned - acting like Daryl just said the stupidest thing in the world. "Your boner," you deadpanned - as if it was the most normal thing to say.

The archer swallowed hard; feeling his chest (and pants) tightening.

"Wha'?" He crooked out. The normally so talkative, glibly redneck seemingly rendered speechless by your boldness.

Once again, you rolled your eyes. "Do you reaaaaally want me to spell it out for you, D?" Daryl clearly needed a moment to recover, but once he did, he scoffed.

"Pf, yer bluffin'."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, ya 'r."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, ya 'r. Can tell. Yer way to innocent fer shit like tha', sunshine."

"Are you challenging me, Dixon?"

"Nah, jus' statin' facts."

Now you were the one who scoffed. He really asked for it, didn't he? You smirked and hid your face in the blanket beneath you. Oh, you were so going to prove him wrong.

You rolled your barely covered body around a third time, but this time to get up from the bed - which was a much more difficult task than expected, but you made it in the end - even though not gracefully and certainly not seductively. "Facts, huh?" You asked the crossbow-wielding archer then with a raised eyebrow and your hands on your hips. He crossed his arms over his plaid beige-brown shirt clad chest; bare forearms and biceps bulging with the movement. "Yes, facts." Although he stared into your eyes with his blue coloured irises, he still had a hard time for them to actually stay on your face.

"Well, you can go screw your opinions - or me. Your choice, pretty boy," you stated and shrugged your shoulders as you bridged the short distance between the bed and the armchair. Before the younger Dixon could even do as much as open his mouth for a snarky respond, you had dropped to your knees in front of him - between his manspread legs.

Daryl's eyes widened and his jaw slacked. "Wha' 'r ya doin'?!" He literally screeched and gripped the armrests of the armchair. "Proofing you wrong, pretty boy." You smiled up at him like a Cheshire cat; hands and fingers clumsily trying to open his jeans. "F-Fuckin' hell, wha'?! Yer insane, woman!" The archer cursed above you, but also didn't make any moves to stop you. So, you took that as a sign to continue. And continuing you did...

It took you a hot minute to get your eye-hand coordination straight and overcome the obstacles which were his jeans and boxers, but once you did, there was no holding back. "Ya really gonna do th- F-Fuck..."

You did.

"Told you, Dixon," you stated with a mischievous glimmer in your eyes; hands firmly cupping him. Daryl answered nothing. The archer had a hard time to control his breathing and rapidly beating heart. He was still gripping the armrests like a vice - his knuckles already turning white. He really couldn't believe this was happening right now. Was he asleep and dreaming? Was he hallucinating? Did the wine manage to fog up his brain so much that his eyes were deceiving him? But when he felt your lips wrap around him, he instantly threw all those thoughts overboard again. This was real. It had to be real. After all, he was feeling it, right?

"F-Fuckin' hell," he cursed again; feeling waves of pleasure crash over him. One of his hands loosened its grip on the armrest and went in your hair instead - tying your loose hair into a makeshift ponytail. You were already too far gone to care; the taste of him addictive.

Working your magic, you tried to grant the man above you as much pleasure as possible - and it seemed to work. Within a few minutes, Daryl was a whimpering mess - a side you'd never thought you were ever going to see of him. Not in your wildest dreams.

"Ain't... Ain't g-gonna last," the archer panted breathlessly; the hand in your hair twitching. You didn't want him to. You wanted him to fall apart. A gentle squeeze of your hand was all it took. "Y-Y/N, damnit, 'm gon'- Gonna cu-" His sentence got interrupted by a low moan that paved its way to the forefront of his lips. The hand in your hair twitched again as he attempted to pull you off him. You didn't let him, though, and easily dodged his lousy attempt. Instead, you helped him ride the wave. His thighs twitched; muscles tensing as his high crashed into him. Daryl felt like he had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler - but in the best way possible. It had been so long...

The gentle grip he had of your hair slackened; hand falling limply to his side. You lifted your head to look at him to witness his blissed-out state. Daryl's eyes were closed, and his breathing laboured. You smiled; hands gently caressing his clothed thighs. "You believe me now, D?" He gave you a mere nod. Clearly he needed another few moments to get his head straight again. Your smile never ceased as you kept up your fingers movements. Your knees protested by now, but you didn't care.

Another few moments passed, before the archer peeled his eyes open again. Seeing you still on your knees for him managed to send another shockwave of arousal throughout his entire body.

Wide-blown eyes stared at you intensely; the gears turning in his fogged up head.

"T-Thanks, I guess," he whispered then. His voice was still hoarse. You smiled up at him. "You're welcome, pretty boy. Said I'm gonna help you." Daryl nodded almost shyly and clumsily stuffed himself back inside his boxers. You eyed him thoroughly and started to giggle. "Didn't think you'd loose it so fast. Wouldn't have pecked you to be a... premature guy." Not that it mattered to you, but you couldn't help yourself but to tease him a bit. It was meant to be a playful comment, but you seemed to hit a sore spot...

You could practically see how his eyes darkened, before he narrowed them. "Whatcha say, huh?" He asked in a gruff voice and stood up; towering over you. You blinked - were a bit taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanour. "I-I, uh... Said I didn't think you'd be one t-to, uh, come too early..." The archer growled under his breath. "Ya better watch yer mouth, sunshine," he said in a threatening tone and grabbed your arms to pull you up on your feet. Daryl quickly noticed, though, that his legs were even more wobbly now that they've already been before; forcing him to take cautious steps. "What are we doing, pretty boy? You gonna make me pay for saying that?" You gave another sassy remark; provoking him and tickling his nerve ends even further. A grunt passed his chapped lips as he dragged you with him. Once close to the bed, he wrapped his arms firmly around your bare midsection and literally threw you onto the bed - wobbly legs be damned. You giggled at his eagerness and slid upwards to rest your head on one of the pillows; giving the man a confident look. "C'mon then, pretty boy, show me what you got. I know you want to." He scoffed and crawled on the bed. "Pretty boy my ass." You just giggled again. You felt intoxicated by the wine you had consumed and definitely aroused - which got only worse when you felt calloused, deft hands gripping your delicate skin. Daryl parted your legs and settled on his knees between them. His eyes were directed on your face. He looked like a predator - ready to attack his prey. It was incredibly hot.

"'M gonna shut tha' sassy mouth 'a yers, just ya wait," he growled in a deep voice, and wrapped his arms and hands around your thighs like a snake - holding them firmly and simultaneously keeping you splayed open for him, before he literally yanked you down; bringing your hips closer to his.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his sudden movement and the upcoming anticipation.

His fingertips danced over the skin on your hips then - and suddenly got your dark blue lace panties ripped into shreds.

"Daryl!" You shrieked, then gasped. "Those were my favourites, I-" "'S jus' a damn piece 'a fabric. Dun be such a crybaby," he interrupted you; instantly putting you in your place. Your mouth clapped shut. This was yet another new side of him. Sure, you knew he was hotheaded, but he literally just went from kinda submissive to dominant within the blink of an eye. Was it the alcohol? Or truly his temper?

The clinking of his belt ripped you out of your thoughts. Some shuffling and the rustling of fabric was the only premonition you got, before you felt him against your hot and pulsating center. Your hips instantly bucked; trying to get closer.

More friction.

More pleasure.

More of Daryl.

The archer hovering above you scoffed. "Look how needy ya are. Dun even hafta prepare ya." You could see the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smirk. "Tis all jus' from gettin' me off, huh?" You nodded and bit your lip. Daryl on the contrary shook his head, "Yer tha' desperate? Pf... Pathetic." and lined himself up, before hitting home.

Stars exploded in front of your eyes as his hips met yours. The most sinful moan the archer had ever heard in his life slipped past your lips; only spurring him on more. He picked up a firm, steady pace - leaving you a mess beneath him barely within a few minutes. Just what you did to him.

Revenge was sweet, wasn't it?

His precise, powerful thrusts carried you from one high to the next - and Daryl enjoyed it. He loved to see you fall apart beneath him. And this time, he was the one lasting longer. "Who's commin' too soon now, huh? 'S not me, sunshine. Told ya I'd shut tha' sassy mouth 'a yers," he growled lowly; slowing his pace to just give you a few moments of recovery. You moaned at the sheer endless pleasure he granted you. Your hands gripped his thick arms like a vice after he had planted both palms firmly in the mattress beside your head to gain more leverage. "F-Fuck, Daryl," you whimpered; fingernails digging into his sweaty biceps. "I know. Jus' one more, 'kay? Can ya give me one more?" You nodded wordlessly. "Good girl," the archer praised and picked up his speed once again; pulling another sweet moan alongside some incoherent noises from you.

Your hands travelled. They left his arms to rest on his chest, where they fisted the fabric of his plaid shirt with the ripped off sleeves. The fabric held a darkened stain - a puddle of sweat formed on his chest.

Your hands continued to fist his shirt, as you pulled - an attempt to undo a few buttons. But once the archer noticed what your mission was, he stopped dead in his movements. "Nah, dun do tha'," he scolded you instantly and peeled your hands away from the fabric covering his upper body. "W-Why?" You asked breathlessly; not understanding his sudden mood shift. "'"Cause I told ya to!" He snapped.

Just in that moment, you realised that you must've hit another sore spot... But this time one that actually seemed to get to him. Not one that managed to turn him on.

"S-Sorry, D-Daryl, I-" You immediately apologised, but got interrupted once more. "Keep holdin' on ta my arms, if yer need sum'thin' to hold on to." His voice was gruff, but way more soft than a few moments ago. The archer redirected your hands and placed them once more around his sweaty biceps. Without another word, he continued where he left off, causing your grip to instantly tighten. "There ya go," he praised you again and readjusted your legs with his thighs. Just the slight change of angle was enough to send you a third time over the edge. This time, though, you dragged him right with you.

A broken sound - close to a cry, left the man's lips as he pulled out and coated the supple skin of your stomach with his release. A single droplet of sweat rolled down his neck as he threw his head back in ecstasy. It was a sight to behold. A sight you might never forget for the rest of your life - no matter how long your life was going to be.

A few moments later collapsed Daryl on the mattress beside you. He was clearly spent. Perhaps this had been something you both needed. Who knew?

"Imma take a shower," the archer announced after a while and left the bed - but not before gentleman-like wiping the mess he made on your stomach away with his hand. Without another word, he left, while you just laid there - still naked and staring at the ceiling; recalling in your mind what just happened. The sex managed to sober you up a bit. Did that really just happen? Had you been dreaming this?

You heard the water run, but not how Daryl returned to the room and settled down for the night in the armchair. You had ventured off to dreamland at some point.

To say the next morning was awkward was an absolute understatement. Awkward was not even remotely enough to describe the vibe between the both of you.

When you woke up again, the archer was nowhere to be seen. Now sober, you left the bed, picked up your clothes, noticed that you truly were - in fact in his room, and tiptoed butt naked down the hallway into your room. Luckily nobody had seen you. That would've been scandalous, right?

Your luck was also that everybody was quite hungover from last night. Some more, some less. Therefore noticed nobody the way you and Daryl acted around each other.

You could barely manage to look into his eyes.

You felt ashamed; thinking that you pushed him too far yesterday night. Thinking, that you were too bold and unable to control your damn feelings. Thinking that you pushed him away, instead of drawing him in. You anticipated that the archer must hate you now - and you couldn't even blame him...

Nevertheless seemed a conversation inevitable. You didn't want to destroy the friendship - if you could even call it that - the both of you had before last night.

It took you days to bite the bullet and ask him to talk, though. Sure, you had been on the road again since the CDC was a dead end, but that wasn't an excuse in your eyes.

"D-Daryl?" You approached him cautiously as you found him alone in the stables of the Greene farm; saddling a horse to go looking for Sophia. "Whatcha want?" He asked you and gave you a short look. You swallowed nervously. "Can we, uh, can we talk?" "'Bout wha'?" You watched him work for a moment, while your fingers fumbled with the hem of your t-shirt; trying to gather all the courage you could find. "That, uh, night at the CDC..." Your words came out as a whisper, but Daryl heard them nonetheless - and froze in all his tracks.

"Why'd ya wanna talk 'bout tha'?" He asked nonchalantly after a beat of silence and continued his work; had seemingly shaken off the small 'shock' quite quick. "I-I..." You started and sighed. "Things f-feel so weird between us since that n-night, and... I don't want that. I-I'm sorry for what I did. I'm s-sorry for making you sleep with me." Your eyes were stuck on him. You watched him and tried to gauge his reaction - afraid of what was going to happen.

"Yer sorry 'bout it?" Daryl asked then - almost in disbelief. Then he scoffed. "Do ya regret it?"

That was a question you didn't see coming. A question you haven't thought about yet. Did you regret it? Your memories took you back in time; letting you relive that night you shared with him. The answer was clear - as you quickly discovered.

"No, I don't, but... It was wrong. I shouldn't have-" "Wrong?" He interrupted you. His voice appalled. "Tha's what ya think 'bout this? 'Bout... us?" Daryl accused you with a grimace on his face. Was that... sadness you could detect in his blue orbs? Hurt?

You blinked; "U-Us?" were definitely confused by his words. "W-What do you mean 'us'?" "Ya know wha' I mean, Y/N." You shook your head. "No, Daryl. No, I don't. We've been practically ignoring each other since the CDC. We can't even talk properly! Neither of us can look into the other's eyes! Everything is just... weird, and you talk about an 'us'? No, I don't get it. Tell me. Explain it."

A frustrated huff left the archer's lips, before he started to gnaw at the pad of his thumb; averting your eyes. All of a sudden, the usually so confident redneck became all shy and insecure. "Dunno how," he started; merely shrugging his shoulders. "'S difficult, 'n I ain't good with words." "Try it, D," you encouraged him and gave him a soft smile. "Please. I want to make things right between us again." The archer nodded and took another moment - most likely to gather his thoughts. "'S tha' feeling, ya know? Can't pin it down. Always feelin' so strange whenever yer close to me."

Your heart skipped more than just one beat as his words urged to your ears. Could it be...? No...

"W-What do you feel? Can you... describe it?" Daryl lowered his gaze to the ground. The little stone laying beside his left foot suddenly became really interesting. "Jus' strange. Gets harder to breathe, 'n... My stomach's all messed up. Feels like an itch I can't scratch." You couldn't believe this was happening. Did that night cause Daryl to fall in love with you? "You're doing good, D. Keep going. What else?" You had to know.

He grunted; his foot playing with that little stone, before kicking it aimlessly over the concrete ground. "I... always go back to tha' night in my head. Can't forget it. Yer look. Yer touch. The way ya felt, I-" He stopped himself to take a deep breath. And you smiled. Perhaps having slept with him hadn't been a mistake. Perhaps you interpreted his behaviour wrong. Perhaps you just misread the signs...

"I jus' dunno how to act 'round ya. I dunno wha's happening to me. Tha's why I ain't talkin' to ya. Didn't mean to ignore ya..." Daryl apologised with his head still lowered.

You stepped closer to him and cautiously reached for his hand. He flinched, but didn't pull away. "Daryl, I... I think I know what happened to you," you whispered. "'N wha's tha'?" He asked; finally brave enough to lift his head to look into your eyes. You smiled and squeezed his hand. "I think you... are in love."

As quick as the man had lowered his guard, as quick was it up again.

He pulled his hand out of your grasp and scoffed, before he took a few steps back. "Pf. Love? Me? Tha's ridiculous, woman - 'n we both know it!" "Is it, yeah? You really think so?" "Yes!" He yelled, and wanted to rush past you - but you stopped him with your palm splayed on his chest. You didn't know if what your heart made you do was a wise decision, but it acted on its own will. Your head was powerless anyway.

Daryl's eyes travelled from yours to the hand on his chest and back. "Whatcha doin', woman?! Leave me the hell alo-" You had heard enough. You had held yourself back long enough. This was the only option you had left. It was do or die.

You cut the man off with standing on your tiptoes and connecting your lips to his. It was a chaste, gentle kiss - but nonetheless meaningful. It felt so right. So good. His lips so soft and warm - compared to his seemingly rough exterior. His blond-brown goatee tickled your skin in the best way possible.

Once more, Daryl froze to the ground; not moving a muscle.

When your lips left his again with a soft pop and you reopened your eyes, you could see how his eyelids fluttered slowly open as well. You could feel his heart galloping underneath your palm. "What do you feel now, Daryl?" You asked in a hushed tone. Your eyes never left his. The archer swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "I-I-I..." He stammered out; his cheeks heating up. "G-Good," he croaked out. "R-Real good." You smiled - happy that your heart had made the right decision. "Wanna do it again?" He blinked. The tips of his ears got red as well. "I-If yer willin' t-to k-kiss me again?" Your smile even widened, before you reached up to cup his beardy, red cheeks in your palms to pull him into another kiss. Daryl gasped against your lips; eyes falling shut and lips following your lead. It caused the kiss to get more intimate. More demanding. More passionate.

His hands acted on their own will, as they settled on your waist and pulled you closer. Your body crashed against his. You could tell that he hadn't kissed a lot in his life; his movements clumsy and messy - but perfectly Daryl. And you loved it. You didn't care how experienced or skilled he was. All you cared about was him - and all the love he deserved you wanted to give him.

He was far from perfect; had his flaws - but so were you.

"What do you say now about love, pretty boy?" You asked in a playful, yet loving manner; your hands crossed behind his neck. Daryl's hands gently squeezed your sides, "Shuddup." before he dipped his head to indulge you into yet another kiss.

Yeah... He was definitely whipped.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @dixonsdarkelf @huntedmusicgardenn @ffsjustletmesleep

[xoxo-sarah]

If the Roles Were Reversed

My Wife part 2

Part 1

↝a/n: I have been given so much love for the first part and I can't express how grateful I am for it. It fills me with so much joy when people express how much they like my work. I have been asked to make a part two and who am I to say no?

↝pairing: season 1!Daryl Dixon x wife!reader

↝warning: season 1 episodes 3 & 4, angst, death, arguing, gore, zombies, typical twd stuff, not proofread, Ed

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 1.25.25

Daryl Dixon masterlist

“You can't go, Daryl. Listen to me-” You threw your hands around, watching Daryl pace in front of you. The peaceful expression he once had, when he had reunited with you, was wiped clean off of his face.

He was told the news about Merle and instantly became furious. No matter how much you tried to calm him, it was no use.

His brother was out there. Daryl argued that Merle would be out there looking for him if the roles were reversed.

“Listen, there are too many.” You stepped closer, trying to make him understand, “After the racket everyone made trying to leave, I bet there’s even more now.”

“They left my brother on a roof.” You could tell he was trying his hardest not to yell at you. He was never one to take his anger out on the one person he loves more than anything in the world. He was always gentle with you, just like you deserved.

Sighing, you didn’t know how to counter that. As much as everyone who was waiting on the other side of the R.V wanted you to talk some sense into your husband, Daryl had a point. After all, he had gone out to find you, even against Merle telling him not to.

If it had been Daryl who they had left behind, you would’ve already been in the city, searching. Even if you had to go by yourself, it wouldn’t matter.

None of that changed the fact that it’s dangerous. You couldn’t let him go.

You just got him back.

“He was out of control, you know how he can get. I don’t think they had a choice.” You whispered, trying to convince yourself just as much as him.

Daryl’s nostrils flared, as he tried to calm himself. He didn’t want to lash out on you, he never did. But he was about to break. “Merle is a prick, but he’s my brother.”

With that, Daryl walked around the R.V, shoulder checking Shane, who looked disappointed that you hadn’t helped de-escalate the situation. Daryl was stubborn, there wasn’t much you could do.

Carol quickly went back to what she was doing, not wanting to seem like she was being nosey. Which didn’t do much considering everyone in the camp was waiting. After the brawl that had happened when Daryl was told about Merle, everyone was interested in how this whole situation would turn out. Everyone else tried hiding their obvious interest as Daryl came into view. You walked behind him, head hung low, defeated and slightly scared.

Daryl walked toward the box truck, ready to leave.

Rick walked over to you, “So?”

“You shook your head, “He’s not gonna change his mind. I tried.”

He nodded in understanding. Lori looked on at the interaction. She had been the one to offer Rick showing Daryl the way to Merle. She was adamant on it, but at the same time mad at him for leaving. It was almost like she was testing him, seeing if he would actually leave his family to be the heroic cop from before. She wanted him to choose her and Carl over ‘the right thing to do’.

Rick cleared his throat, “It’ll be alright,” he nodded fiddling with the gun holster before turning back around.

Glenn backed the box truck closer, Daryl impatiently standing in the back. You walked toward him when the vehicle stopped. He squinted down at you against the beating sun, watching as you climbed into the truck.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Going with you.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Four’s enough.”

You didn’t care if Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were also going. You had stayed in the city for a while, you knew your way around. Plus, you would be going for a different reason than the rest. They were going for Merle, you were going for Daryl.

“Stay here.” His voice was softer now. Truthfully, he didn’t want anything to happen to you. You were safer at the camp, with people you had grown comfortable with in such a short amount of time. “They’ll need somebody who knows how to hunt for somethin’ to eat. Fish is gonna get old fast.” You cracked a smile at his slight humor at the situation. Still, you didn’t want him to leave.

Daryl stepped closer, bringing you into his arms, his head resting on yours. The stench of sweat, dirt, and god knows what else didn’t bother either of you. He didn’t care that you didn’t smell like the sweet shampoo he loved, and you didn’t care that he didn’t smell like the body wash that you had bought him the last time you had gone to the store, or the cologne you loved.

“Keep an eye on everybody,” He kissed your forehead, mumbling against the skin, as he stayed close. “Don’t let anyone mess with ya.”

“When do I ever?” A smile threatened to make an appearance. But it wasn’t the time. He was worried about his brother.

Rick walked by, casting a glance back at the two of you, nodding. Inhaling deeply, you moved away from Daryl, jumping down from the truck. He sent you one more look before pulling the roll-up doors down. You stood there, listening to the box truck’s engine start. You continued to stand there even after the truck faded into the distance.

-

Dale watched as you fiddled with the rag he had given you to wipe the sweat off your brow. You kept fidgeting; ever since Daryl left.

He was quick to offer you to help him keep watch, but you were elsewhere ever since you climbed onto the roof of the R.V. You were trying, Dale could tell. But he saw the gears turning in your head, greased with the terrible thought of what could happen to your husband. The thought of Daryl always overpowered any other thought.

His greyed eyebrows raised as you shot up from your seat.

“Think i’m gonna go help with the laundry. To keep myself busy.” Dale didn’t say anything, only moving out of your way so you could climb down.

Making your way to the quarry, you focused on the voices in the distance and the sharp rocks under your feet. You walked past Ed, who sat comfortably in the back of the car, smoking while keeping an eye on Carol. He glanced up, taking a drag of his cigarette. Ignoring him, you carefully navigate your way down the rocks toward where Carol, Jacqui, Andrea, and Amy sat.

“Can somebody explain to me how the women wound up doing all the Hattie McDaniel work?” Jacqui grumbled, watching Shane and Carl fail at catching frogs, their laughter echoing.

“The world ended. Didn’t you get the memo?” Amy wrung the water out of a shirt, flicking hair out of her face. Carol glanced back, looking at Ed. She saw you walking toward them. Sending you a small smile. “It’s just the way it is.” Her eyes fell back to her husband.

“Care for some help?” You squinted at the group through the sun beating down into your eyes. Jacqui motioned to a turned over bucket, “Please.” Giving a tightlipped smile, you sat down ,grabbing a scrub brush and a piece of clothing.

The way the women conversated put you at ease. It was familiar. People at the office that you worked at, were exactly like them.

“I do miss my Maytag.” Carol said, scrubbing clothes against the old washboard.

“I miss my Benz, my Sat Nav.” Andrea added.

“I miss my coffeemaker with that dual-drip filter and built-in grinder, honey.” Jacqui smiled.

Amy pouted, “My computer…and texting.”

“I miss my t.v. And wine. Especially after a long day.” You groaned, remembering the days after work; where you would come home, take your shoes off and get wine and a movie ready. Daryl would come home a little later and join you.

Your reminiscing was cut short by Andrea, “I miss my vibrator.”

Stopping your scrubbing, you looked up at her, a surprised chuckle leaving your lips.

“Ohhhhh.” “Oh my God!”

Carol glanced back at Ed, “Me too.”

You laughed harder, along with the others.

“What’s so funny?”

Just like that, the atmosphere was ruined. Ed walked down, instantly taking the joy out of the air.

“Just swapping war stories, Ed,” Andrea looked back at him, before looking over at Carol. “Yeah.”

Ed walked closer. From your spot beside Carol, you could feel Ed looming behind. Carol instinctively folded in on herself, head sinking into her shoulders.

“Problem, Ed?” Andrea glared at him.

“None that concerns you,” He took another puff of his cigarette, “and you ought to focus on your work. This ain’t no comedy club.”

Andrea huffed, plopping the brush in the tin bucket.

“Just trying to make the best out of a bad situation.” You looked at him, face blank. He stared down at you. You waited for him to say something else. Surprisingly he only blew the smoke out, throwing the butt away. He stepped back, lighting another. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the laundry. Andrea stood, walking toward him.

“Ed, tell you what, you don’t like how your laundry is done, you are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here,” She threw the soaking wet piece of clothing in her hands at him.

He threw it back. Andrea gasped. “Ain't my job, missy.”

Amy stood, wanting to de-escalate the situation. She touched Andrea’s arm, “Andrea, don’t.”

“What is your job, Ed? Sitting on your ass, smoking cigarettes?”

You glanced at Carol, who sat quietly, still working.

“Well, it sure as hell ain’t listening to some uppity smart-mouthed bitch. Tell you what,” He motioned for Carol, who was out of her seat in a second. You grabbed her arm before she could fully stand up. You could see the fear and timidness in her eyes.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He continued to beckon her.

You stood, keeping a soft but comforting grip on her arm.

“I don’t think she needs to go anywhere with you, Ed.” Andrea continued.

Carol glanced up from the ground for a split second, meeting your eyes. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble. She would be dragged back to camp by Ed if that meant nothing else would happen. She knew Ed, what he was capable of.

“And I say that’s none of your business.” Ed beckoned for Carol again. “Come on, now. You heard me.”

Carol moved away from your grip. Andrea turned to her, “Carol,”

“Andrea, please. It doesn’t matter.”

Ed glared at the interaction, “Hey, don’t think I won't knock you on your ass, just ‘cause you some college-educated cooze, alright?”

Andrea scoffed at the audacity of the male in front of her. You stepped forward, grabbing Carol by the shoulder. You weren’t about to let her go with him when he was clearly becoming hostile.

“Now you come on now or you gonna regret it later.”

You softly said her name, ignoring her husband’s glare, and stepped closer to her in a protective manner.

“So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed?” Jacqui piped up for the first time since Ed walked over. “Yeah, we’ve seen them.”

Ed chuckled, “Stay out of this,” his harsh gaze pierced through his wife. “Now come on! You know what, this is none of y’all’s business. You don’t want to keep prodding the bull here, okay? Now I am done talkin’. Come on!”

You cringed at his words, moving in front of Carol as he walked closer. He ignored you, reaching around to grab at her arm with a harsh grip. The embarrassment was clear on her face. He pulled, knocking your balance slightly off as he yanked Carol from behind you. Her shoulder crashed into yours, feet moving in a jumble over your own.

“No. No, Carol. You don’t have-”

Carol muttered something under her breath, ignoring Andrea.

Ed swung around, spitting in Carol’s face. “You don’t tell me what! I tell you what!” His grip tightened, jagged nails biting into the soft skin of her upper arm. She whimpered quietly at the force. He raised his hand, striking her against the face. Gasping, you caught her as she fell back, grabbing her reddening cheek.

Everyone clamoured; Andrea hitting and pushing him away, you cursing him as Carol started crying. She fell further into you, as you held her protectively, hauling her away from him.

Ed was pulled back and thrown to the ground, before being dragged by the back of his shirt. Shane threw him further into to the ground, before throwing a punch, and another straight after.

“No!” Carol cried, trying to get away. Shane kept throwing punches, more skin breaking every time his fist hit Ed’s face. Carol covered her mouth, body swaying.

“Shane, stop!” “Enough! Enough!” “Just stop!”

Shane stopped, pointing a finger in Ed’s swollen and bloodied face. “You put your hands on your wife, your little girl, or anybody else in this camp one more time, I will not stop next time. Do you hear me?” He grabbed Ed’s face, squishing it in the process. “Do you hear me?!”

Ed slurred, “Yes.”

Shane let go, pointing again. “I’ll beat you to death, Ed.” With one final punch, he stood, kicking the man on the ground and walking away.

“God!” Carol cried, using strength you had never seen from her before, to break from you, running over to her husband.

-

The tension in the camp was suffocating after that. There was a tiny victory after Andrea and Amy went fishing and brought back dinner, but it was short lived. Jim had been found digging graves, which disturbed a lot of you.

Night fell and everyone began eating the fish-fry.

You smiled at Sophia as she passed the pan of fish. She was well-mannered; all thanks to Carol. She was a shy girl, but became a seemingly different kid when she was around other kids. She found friends in a world that would probably take them away before you could blink. She, along with the other kids, didn’t understand what was out there, all of the bad. They held an innocence that would be demolished in front of your eyes.

“I gotta ask you, man. It’s been driving me crazy.” One of the men that you met in the city, Morales, spoke up, directing it at Dale.

“What?”

“That watch,” he pointed at the watch on Dale’s wrist.

Dale smiled, “What’s wrong with my watch?”

Morales continued, “I see you everyday, the same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass.”

“I’ve wondered this myself.” Jacqui smiled.

Dale threw his hands up playfully, “I’m missing the point.”

You looked between him and his watch, the fire casting a warm gleam over it, brightening the brown leather.

“Unless I've misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end. At least hit a speed bump for a good long while.” Jacqui shrugged her shoulders.

“But there’s you, everyday, winding that stupid watch.” Morales raised his eyebrows at the old man.

“Time- it’s important to keep track, isn’t it? The days, at least. Don’t you think, Andrea? Back me up here.”

They shared a knowing look, their faces glowing in the fire from where you sat. She sent him a seemingly warning glare, but his smile didn’t falter.

“I like- I like what, um, a father said to son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said “I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father’s before me; I give it to you not that you may remember time, not that you may forget it for a moment now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.””

Huh,” Morales nodded at the answer, not really expecting it.

Everyone sat in silence around the fire, before Amy broke it, “You are so weird.”

Laughter echoed as you took a swig of beer. It wasn’t wine, but it wasn’t pure water so it would do.

“It’s not me. It’s Faulkner, William Faulkner.”

Amy rolled her eyes at Dale.

The older man chuckled, “Maybe my bad paraphrasing.”

Amy stood, walking away from the fire. Andrea stopped her, “Where are you going?”

“I have to pee.” The younger sister raised her brows, “Jeez, you try to be discreet around here.” She quickly walked off, toward the R.V.

Dale turned to you, “What about you? You fiddle with that on your wrist.” You looked down at the bulky thing around your wrist. “Was my dog’s collar.” Dale’s smile turned sad. While rushing out of your house, you had grabbed the collar from the leash you would walk her around the block with. Her name was embroidered; a gift from Daryl when he first surprised you with a puppy.

You tightened it into a bracelet, holding her memory close. Truthfully, you had forgotten about it being on your wrist. You didn’t notice how much you fidgeted with it. Dale did, when you were on watch with him.

You didn’t think about the dog for long.

The R.V door opened, and Amy stepped out. “We’re out of toilet paper?” She yelled. Before she could get an answer, a hand grabbed her forearm from behind the other side of the door. She stood in shock as a walker moved closer to her. She screamed, feeling the walker bite down.

Your head instantly snapped up, eyes growing wide at the sight. More walkers came from each direction, limping forward. Everyone screamed, jumping up. Parents grabbed their kids, others grabbed weapons. Gunshots echoed, making your ears ring. You were quick to instinctively reach for your gun. Unfortunately, that gun was still in Glenn’s bag with no bullets.

A hand on your shoulder had you swiveling around, pushing the walker that simply snarled at you. Pushing with all your strength, you didn’t wait for it to hit the ground before you were running.

Another walker stumbled toward you from behind, dirty nails digging into your skin. This walker was closer, a stench wafting into your nose before you could push it away. You tried, but from the angle in which the walker had grabbed you, you could only push its head away, fingers avoiding its snipping teeth.

You screamed, still hearing Shane unload his gun in the distance.

Andrea wailed, watching another walker bite a gash out of Amy’s shoulder, right where her neck meets it.

The grip tightened on you, making you hiss. Their nails were long and had the bite to prove it. One final hit had the walker staggering back, grip falling off. You turned, running toward the R.V, where Shane, Lori, Carol, Morales, and their families were. More gunfire rang out.

Making it to the vehicle, you turned back, seeing Daryl and the others coming out of the woods. He was the first out, head snapping in ebery direction. The other were soon to follow.

Daryl spotted you. He looked around, making sure no more walkers were around, before running toward you. Your bodies collided, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

He pulled back, “You hurt?”

“No, i don’t think- I don’t know.”

You were in shock, your jumbled words and wide eyes proving it. You couldn’t think. You rubbed where you were scratched.

In your time since the world ended, you had hidden in the top floor of a building. If you were ever met with danger, you always had a gun or knife handy.

Tonight, you were completely unprepared.

In the dark, you couldn't tell if the skin of your arm was broken. Clinging back to Daryl, you turned your head to where Andrea laid beside Amy. Blood pooled around them. Amy’s body went limp, sending Andrea to sobs. Closing your eyes tightly, you turned back to Daryl, pushing your face into his neck. He held you close, hiding the shake in his hands.

He had heard your scream.

That’s what had him running through the woods with only you in mind, leaving the other behind.

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

Tags from the last chapter who wanted part 2: @notmirnda @vomiting-blood @i93jjk @multifandomfan @gaudesstuff @cymbalta-slut

[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion Masterlist

Summary: Christmas time is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, but for Y/N it has become a lonely holiday now that she is a divorced mother. This Christmas, she gets looped into a love triangle with two lovers from her past, Joel Miller and Negan Smith, where the holiday brings all of them back together.

Chapters: (Finished)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22

Other Links:  

AO3 (Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion)

[violettwrites]

american teenagers — iii.

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your mind was still reeling from last night.

it wasn’t the first time daryl had stepped in between you and some guy who didn’t know how to take a hint, but this time felt different. it wasn’t just the way he swung at merle’s buddy or how his jaw clenched with every insult the guy threw. it was something in his eyes— sharp and intense, almost angry. but angry at what, you didn’t have a clue.

daryl was like that though. a locked box with no key in sight. sometimes you swore you could almost hear the gears turning in his head, but he never let much out. you’d know him long enough to understand he wasn’t one for words anyway.

still, he hadn’t come back after walking you to your trailer last night. he claimed he needed to check on merle, who half stumbled into the bonfire and was likely causing all kinds of trouble. he left without much more than a gruff get some sleep, and just like that, he was gone.

now unfortunately, you didn’t have time to sit around and piece together what it all meant. life in a small town didn’t stop for a little heartache or confusion, and neither did your job.

the gas station wasn’t exactly where you’d imagine yourself spending your days, but it paid just enough to keep your dad off your back and your cigarettes stocked. that was enough for now.

leaning against the counter, you stared out at the aisles of junk food and faded magazines, listening to the hum of the cooler in the background. a slow day— nothing new. the usual parade of truckers passing through and the town’s regulars had already come and gone, mostl leaving behind a little more than crude remarks or greasy handprints on the counter.

the bell over the door jingled, pulling your from your thoughts. your eyes flickered toward the entrance, ready to size up the next customer— and froze.

daryl.

he walked in like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down the night before, his shoulders hunched slightly, his eyes scanning the shelves before they landed on you.

“hey,” he spoke lowly, his voice rough but still soft, like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.

“hey,” you replied, your tone more even than you felt. you straightened up, wiping your hands on your jeans.

for a moment, he didn’t move, just stood there like he was debating whether to stay or turn around. then he scratched the back of his neck, his signature sign of nervousness, and shuffled over to the counter.

“figured i’d stop by,” he muttered, his gaze flickering between you and the counter top. “see how you were doin’.”

your chest tightened at his words, but you kept your face neutral. “i’m fine,” you said, though the slight crack in your voice betrayed you.

his eyes narrowed slightly, and you could tell he didn’t believe you. “that guy last night… he didn’t—“

“no,” you interrupted quickly. “he didn’t. you made sure of that.”

daryl’s jaw worked, his teeth pressing together for a moment before he nodded. “good.”

the silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded, but not uncomfortable. it was the kind of silence you’d shared a hundred times before, the kind where words weren’t always necessary. still, something about this one felt different and you couldn’t stop your mind from reeling.

“why’d you do it?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. you were aware you had already asked him the same thing last night, but you weren’t exactly convinced.

daryl blinked, caught off guard. “do what?”

“jump in like that,” you clarified, your voice softer now. “i know i already asked, and i know you’ve done it before. but last night felt— i don’t know. different.”

he glanced away, his fingers tapping lightly against the counter. for a moment, you thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he spoke, his voice low and almost hesitant.

“didn’t really think about it,” he admitted. “just saw him grabbin’ you, and… i don’t know. i just had to.”

your breath caught a little, his words hanging in the air between you. there was something much more raw and honest in his words compared to last night, something that made your heart ache in a way you didn’t entirely understand.

before you could respond, the bell above the door jingled again, breaking the spell. a customer had wandered in, and daryl straightened, his usual guarded expression slipping back into place.

“i’ll see you later,” he said gruffly, already backing towards the door.

you nodded, watching as he disappeared into the sunlight, the door swinging shut behind him.

and just like that, he was gone again. a guarded, closed off, enigma of a being wrapped in the perfect little package of daryl dixon. you weren’t as frusturated anymore, because for once, you felt like you’d seen a glimpse of something deeper in him, something he rarely let anyone see.

but you still needed answers.

when your shift had ended, the sticky heat of the afternoon had finally begun to fade, replaced by the warm, golden glow of the sun setting. you grabbed your things and headed back to the trailer park, your mind still a tangled mess of thoughts about daryl.

the familiar hum of a radio met your ears as you rounded the corner of your trailer. merle was sitting on a lawn chair out the front of his own, a beer in hand and heavy boots kicked up on a cinderblock. hearing your footsteps, he looked up, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

“hey there, darlin’,” he drawled, raising his beer ever so slightly towards you. “thought you’d still be hidin’ out after lasts nights little circus.”

you rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him as you completely ignored his comment. “where’s daryl?”

merle shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. “hell if i know, ain’t seen him since this mornin’. why? you two lovebirds having a spat?”

“cut it out merle,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “i just— i don’t get him sometimes, y’know? one second he’s all protective, and the next, he’s gone.”

merle chuckled, shaking his head. “that’s daryl for ya. thought you woulda known that by now. kid’s got more walls than this whole damn trailer park. don’t take it personal— he don’t even know what the hell’s goin’ on in that head of his half the time.”

you frowned, his words not exactly comforting, but hitting a little too close to the truth. “so what? he’s just like this with everyone?”

“nah,” merle said, his grin fading ever so slightly. “he’s got a soft spot for ya, whether he knows it or not. don’t mean he’s gonna start wearin’ his heart on his sleeve, or whatever.”

you sighed, sinking down onto the lawn chair next to him, forehead pressing against your knees. “figures.”

merle leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “give him time, sweetheart. he’s like a stray dog— gotta let him come to you.”

you huffed a laugh despite yourself, shaking your head as you raised it to look at him. “thanks, merle. real helpful.”

he raised his bear in a mock toast once again, his signature shit eating grin on his features. “anytime, darlin’.”

as the sun dipped lower into the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you couldn’t help but wonder if merle was right. maybe daryl just needed time. or maybe you’d have to find a way to break through those walls yourself.

sure, you had known daryl for a big part of your life, and you thought you knew everything there was to know about him— but apparently not. because merle was right. he did have more walls than this damn trailer park.

and the worst part? you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to climb over them.

eeeee here’s chapter 3 !!! i really hope you guys enjoyed it ! not much daryl content unfortunately but we’re getting some merle x reader content (one of my fave friendships tbh)

if you enjoyed, please give this a like or a reblog ! i always appreciate it. and don’t forget to comment below if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

tag list: @rotten-biter @negansbestie @moonbaby6 @sunnykittyzz @twd4life7 @r3zn @besosderuina

[aedixon]

First Time Virgin!Daryl x Virgin!Reader | Smut, unprotected PiV (don't do this guys!!), cunnilingus. 1K words Fem!Reader. No hyper-specific features mentioned. A/N: I'm so bad at writing smut uhhhmmmm if u have any advice or anything shoot me a dm ok. xoxo love u AND UHH enjoy

You've been in a relationship with Daryl for a few years, first starting sometime in high school. Now you're both 22, finally having bought your own house. It was small and old, obviously needing some fixing, but regardless, it was beautiful. The past few days, you and Daryl have been furnishing the place. There's still some decorations and amenities in boxes, but they aren't things that absolutely needed to be put up at the moment. You're just glad you finally have your own place with privacy. It was night, and you were already dressed in your white silk pajamas, Daryl was shirtless and wearing a pair of dark green sweats. You sat on the bed beside where he was laying, and looked down with a small, loving smile on your face. He was zoned out, picking at the hangnails on his thumb. Your smile falters a bit in slight concern. "Hey, you okay?" You say quietly, your soft voice interrupting the comfortable silence. Your words broke him out of his trance, and he quickly looked up at you. "Yeah," he responded, his eyes subconsciously trailing down your body. "Jus' thinkin'." You readjusted yourself on the bed, moving a bit closer. It wasn't unusual for Daryl to zone out, but it didn't mean that it doesn't sometimes concern you. "About what?" He looked up at you again, biting his lip. "Jus'.. we have privacy now, y'know. I was thinkin' of how we never really.. had sex. Because I was nervous. But now.. I think 'm ready." He was visibly nervous. He never really liked speaking his mind, especially when it came to topics like this. He'd always thought you'd judge him, that you'd laugh in his face and call him pathetic for being nervous and not ready for sex. Deep down, he knew you'd never do such a thing, but he just couldn't shake off that fear. Your eyes softened, the pure look of love in your eyes. You'd waited for this day for years, and now, it's hopefully finally happening. You were snapped out of your thoughts as he sat up fully, cupping your face and bringing it to his to kiss you. The kiss was a mix of gentle and rough, certainty and uncertainty. You didn't stop him, in fact, you placed your hand on the side of his neck, stroking it slowly. Daryl pulled away for air, and he just looked at you, as if he wanted to make sure you wanted to continue, that he wasn't making you uncomfortable. "Do you?" He asked, a bit breathless. You immediately answer with a nod. "I do." With that, he kisses you again, rougher, but still careful. He places his hand on the back of your head, guiding you to lie down on the bed. He hovers on top of you, his elbows supporting him. He then brought his free hand to the hem of your shirt, tugging it upwards slightly. Seeing that you made no move to stop him, he quickly parted from you, pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes roamed your torso, taking in the newly exposed skin. You were wearing a light pink bralette with ruffled lace and white flowers embroidered on it. He pulled you up to his chest, his face in the crook of your neck. "Need it off..." He mumbled, his hands working to unclasp the bra. As soon as it was off, he tossed it to the side somewhere and laid you back down. He started at your now exposed breasts, his eyes darkening with love and lust. "God.." He immediately went to kissing your jaw, slowly making his way down to your chest. Once there, he started kissing around the nipple, before taking one of them into his mouth, gently sucking. He brought his free hand up to the other, giving that one attention as well. You threw your head back and let out a whine at the sensations, your hand coming up to gently tug on his hair. "Yes-yes.. that's it.." You moaned out, encouraging him on. He continues with that for a while before kissing lower, all the way to the waistband of your silk shorts. "Need these off.." He mumbles, more to himself than to you. He undoes the ribbon, pulling them down along with your panties.

He continues kissing down as he does so, stopping when his head is in between your thighs. He places soft kisses on the insides of your things, before spreading your legs even more with his hands. He gets dangerously close to your core, placing kisses in the surrounding area.

Finally, he places his lips and tongue right where you want him, licking and eating at you like a starving man. You moan loudly, your hands instinctively going to grab at his hair. Daryl snaps his head up, terrified, wondering if he hurt you or not. "Did I hurt ya'..?" He asks, hands gripping your thighs tightly, but not enough to hurt or leave any marks. You immediately shake your head. "No, Daryl, that was so good.. you can continue, please.." He cautiously goes back down, continuing to pleasure you. You've never felt anything like it, not even when you would pleasure yourself to the thought of him all those lonely nights, alone in your room. It's way different than that, feels way better. He licks a long stripe from your pulsing hole all the way up to your clit, his lips latching onto it and sucking. He brings one of his hands, entering one finger inside. He curls it a few times before adding a second finger, both curling and pumping into you. Above him, you're a moaning mess. Your head thrashes side to side in pleasure, letting out small whimpers and loud moans alike. He feels your pussy clenching around his fingers, and he begins to suck on your clit harder and pump his fingers faster. "Oh-Daryl, I'm gonna-" with a few final sucks, you reach your climax, your legs clenching on his head, keeping him in place. Once you come down from your high, Daryl pulls back to take a look at you and your wet cunt. He goes back down, licking up your cum, letting out a satisfied hum. He sits up on his knees, ridding himself of his sweatpants and boxers.

"Ya ready?" He says, pumping himself a few times. You nod weakly, spreading your legs even wider for him. He positions himself between your legs, his tip prodding your wet, pulsing hole. "Tell me if it hurts." You wrap your legs around his waist, hands resting on his shoulder as you wait for him to push in. When you finally does, you feel the burn as his large cock stretches you more than you ever have before. You grimace at the feeling, taking a deep breath. Daryl notices the expression on your face, and leans down to kiss your face, mumbling soft apologies. He continues to push in inch by inch, very slowly. His eyes continuously dart from his cock entering you, stretching you open, and your face, to make sure you're not in any pain. Of course, your first time wouldn't be painless. You need to adjust to his size and how much he stretches you. As he buries himself inside of you, the burn lessens with time. Now he's fully inside of you, holding himself there.

"Please keep going.." you beg, looking up at him with glassy eyes. He pulls out, before thrusting back into you. God, it felt so good. You were in for a long night. But honestly, it was perfect, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[xoxoch3rry]

Could you write a twd carl x reader story. The reader is daryl's daughter and is sad because Negative took her father. Could you please write something like that?

𝕊𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨 | ℂ𝕒𝕣𝕝 𝔾𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤

@ xoxoch3rry do not steal or translate my work.

ᴳᴵᶠ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ~

Word count: 992

────

Carl Grimes x fem!Dixon reader

Warnings: References to captivity and implied violence, Angst, and heavy emotional tones, Minor language use.

Summary: Daryl's daughter, struggles to cope after her father is captured by Negan. Through Carls support, she begins to find solace and hope.

────⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆˖ ࣪⊹────

The atmosphere in Alexandria was suffused with an almost oppressive tension, a weight that pressed against your chest and made it difficult to draw a full breath. You sat hunched on the porch steps of your house, arms wrapped around your knees, your gaze fixed on the road ahead. The surrounding stillness was unbearable, a silence that seemed to amplify the loss you were grappling with since Negan had taken your father—Daryl. Every second dragged on endlessly, creating an illusion that time itself had come to a halt.

Carl approached quietly, his presence heralded by the soft crunch of his boots. Though you didn’t lift your head, you knew it was him. His gait was distinct, slightly uneven yet purposeful, as though he was always racing against an unseen force.

“Hey,” he murmured, lowering himself onto the step beside you.

Your eyes flicked toward him briefly before returning to the ground. Carl had made a habit of checking in on you since Daryl’s capture, though it was evident he struggled to find the right words. The truth was, no one knew what to say. What could anyone possibly offer to ease the kind of pain you were feeling?

“You don’t have to keep checking on me,” you said, your voice devoid of energy. “I’m fine.”

Carl exhaled a soft laugh, the corner of his lips curving into a faint smirk. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, but the smallest hint of a smile betrayed you. Carl had a knack for coaxing lightness out of even the darkest moments, a skill that felt almost magical in times like this.

“It’s just…” you began, your words trailing off as you stared at your hands, fingers twisting together. The thoughts swirling in your head felt too big, too tangled to put into words.

“Just what?” Carl asked, his tone gentle, his gaze steady.

“It’s not fair,” you finally managed, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “He’s my dad, Carl. He’s all I have left, and now he’s gone. I don’t even know if he’s okay. I don’t even know if…” Your voice faltered, the words choking in your throat.

Carl didn’t immediately reply. Instead, he let the silence linger, grounding you with the quiet weight of his presence. Slowly, he reached over and took your hand in his, his touch warm and calloused. The simplicity of the gesture brought a lump to your throat.

“We’re going to get him back,” Carl said, his voice low but resolute. His blue eye met yours, brimming with a determination that was almost contagious. “I don’t know how yet, but we will. I promise.”

You stared at him, the conviction in his voice stirring something deep within you. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the suffocating hopelessness began to loosen its grip, if only slightly.

“You really think so?” you whispered, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

Carl nodded, his hand tightening around yours. “I do. And until we do, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

A shaky laugh escaped you, tears welling up and spilling over. Carl reached up, brushing a tear from your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. The warmth of his touch seemed to seep into the cold, hollow places inside you, offering a fleeting but vital comfort.

“Thanks, Carl,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Always,” he replied, a small, sincere smile tugging at his lips. “You’re family. And family doesn’t give up on each other.”

Something within you cracked open at his words, and before you could think better of it, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. Carl didn’t pull away; instead, he adjusted slightly, letting his head rest against yours. The two of you sat there in shared silence, the world around you fading into the background. The faint murmur of voices in the distance, it all seemed irrelevant, insignificant compared to the quiet understanding that passed between you.

“I can’t stop thinking about what he’s going through,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “I keep imagining him trapped, hurt, alone. And it’s killing me, Carl. I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“I know,” Carl said softly. “But your dad’s strong. One of the strongest people I’ve ever met. If anyone can survive something like this, it’s him.”

You nodded, clinging to the hope in his words. You wanted to believe him, needed to believe him. Maybe Daryl’s strength would see him through, just as it had so many times before. But the fear remained, a persistent shadow that refused to let go.

“It doesn’t make it easier,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

“No,” Carl agreed. “But you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here. Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

His words were simple but carried a weight that made your chest tighten. You turned to look at him, and the sincerity in his gaze was enough to stir something warm and steady within you, something you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, a small smile breaking through the storm of your emotions.

Carl grinned, his expression softening in a way that made your heart flutter unexpectedly. “Good. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

The two of you stayed there as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky fading into a canvas of deep purples and blues. The cool night air began to settle in, but with Carl by your side, the cold felt a little less biting. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel entirely alone. It wasn’t a solution, and it didn’t erase the pain, but it was enough to remind you that even in the darkest moments, you didn’t have to face them on your own.

[sundrop-writes]

It's been far too long since me and Star have been on our bullshit, and I am so glad that the return of Star Squared in 2025 is with a smutty Gleggie fic <33

anyway, here we fuckin goooo

Star: "Jesus" for a moment I forgot about the long haired white boy SKSKSKSKS (i blinked like "what?")

Sunny: it's hilarious because in the show they explicitly state that his real name is Paul Rovia, but NOBODY CALLS HIM PAUL. NOBODY IN THE SHOW CALLS HIM BY HIS REAL FUCKING NAME. everybody calls him Jesus. it's a nickname that stuck SO FUCKING HARD. so yeah, it's that long haired white boy. also you would probably be interested to hear that one of the top ships with Jesus is Jesus x Daryl. (and I was a part of the fandom when Jesus was first introduced, and seeing the SURGE in Jesus/Daryl fics hit the scene was actually hilarious and amusing.)

Star: "he felt utterly insulted at the idea of a pregnant woman sleeping outside in a trailer" THANK YOU

Sunny: in the canon, Jesus is like the Boyle to Maggie's Jake Peralta. he's like "if Maggie isn't here, I'm gonna throw up and die", and when anybody is treating Maggie poorly (especially after Glenn is gone, rip, crying) then he steps to them and makes sure they know what the fuck is up. even though Maggie is more than class at defending herself, he is always standing behind her ready to back her the fuck up and I LOVE IT

Star: "more satisfying for Maggie to fuck her two lovers in the new found comfort of the Manor’s bed" KSKSKKSKSKSK YEEEEAAAHHHHH

Sunny: Jesus was like "a pregnant woman deserves a comfortable bed" and Maggie was like "well they're coming with me". also I just thought about Glenn's speech to Lori in S2 and how the list of things he thinks a pregnant woman requires are 'vitamins, nice bedding, and a comfortable pillow' and Jesus agrees

Star: "tired at the thought that she might have to wrangle you away from a conflict" LET ME LIIIVEEEEEEE

Sunny: if she let you live then NOTHING WOULD GET DONE. THIS IS WHY MAGGIE HAS TO BE IN CHARGE

Star: "you knocked a vase off a nearby table" i regret nothing : 3

Sunny: trust me, when you get to the point of the show where you actually meet Gregory, you will regret this EVEN LESS and you will come back to this fic and reread this even more for satisfaction's sake

Star: "You. Hallway. Now" oh no Maggie's mad 😔 (😌)

Sunny: THE EMOJIS HERE ARE MY FUCKING FAVOURITE. this is literally like that meme "I don't want Maggie to be mad at me... but the DEMONS IN ME want her to be mad at me cause she's HOT WHEN SHE'S MAD"

Star: "And clean up that damn mess" that's my baby momma 🛐

Sunny: This was directly inspired by her big hot attitude moments in the canon <3 (I need her to step on me so badly, I fear)

Star: "If you wanted to be pregnant, then Maggie would make it happen" give her a strap, she can do it

Sunny: oddly enough, I am so Gleggie brained, I was not thinking of a strap. I was so hyper-focused on the idea of using Glenn as a dildo that I was not thinking about Maggie with a strap but IMAGINE THE POWER of a Gleggie threesome where Maggie has a strap and she BOSSES GLENN AROUND ABOUT HOW TO FUCK READER. like ooomf

Star: "one of the ropes for the horses" : O

Sunny: yeehaw <3 (cut to that clip of Glenn creeping on her through the binoculars and say 'helloooo farmer's daughter' cause Maggie is SO HOT WHEN SHE RIDES A HORSE WHILE WEARING THAT FUCKING COWBOY HAT)

Star: "Gregory’s bedroom doorway" YEEEAAAH SKKSKSKSKSK

Sunny: I HATE HIM SO MUUUUCH. he deserves a thousand ugly deaths but for now, this will do lmao

Star: "Uh - Mags, don’t we need Glenn for this part?" nonsense, get the strap

Sunny: I WISH I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT TO GIVE HER A STRAP. This is why I need your brain, you activate the evil in me sometimes I really need it

Star: "I’ll probably have him fuck your ass for practice instead" : O WOWHWJAKWNAB

Sunny: ... ngl, if this wasn't a breeding kink fic, I would have actually gone there. I was a in a Mood when I was writing this lmao

Star: "Glenn had absolutely no clue what he had done to warrant such a harsh tone" IQSKAKAKKS HE'S IMMEDIATELY THINKING OF ALL THE SHIT HE'S DONE

Sunny: his crimes? DIDN'T FOLD HIS LAUNDRY. DIDN'T MAKE THE BED THIS MORNING. DIDN'T PUT THE TOILET SEAT DOWN. and meanwhile Maggie is just like "hurry up, I need your cock for something"

Star: "but that would mean that you" he's putting one and two together, please hold

Sunny: WHY IS YOU SAYING 'PLEASE HOLD' ABOUT GLENN'S LOADING BRAINCELLS SO FUCKING FUNNY. like I actually imagine you saying this out loud to him as he's fucking thinking and it's TOO FUCKING FUNNY OMG

Star: "You should have run when you had the chance, dude! These pregnancy hormones are making her fucking insane" JAKAOAKAKKA I LOVE THIS READER SO MUCH

Sunny: then that means I have done my job well, bless <3

Star: "Jesus, Maggie, the buckle!" he's so cute (his girlfriends are absolute freaks)

Sunny: he accidentally rizzed himself into a long term relationship with two absolute freaks and he can't entirely handle it, but most men couldn't. and we love him for it

Star: "He had realized a bit too late that she had decided to get pregnant" and he's falling for the same THING TWICE IN A ROW !!! "It was just as terrifying and dizzying as it was absolutely thrilling" i love how much Glenn is just happy to be there

Sunny: he really is just falling for it twice in a row, but at least Maggie told him what's happening this time so that he won't be ENTIRELY SURPRISED when there's a positive pregnancy test. also again you saying 'Glenn is just happy to be there' is so weirdly fucking funny to me omg

Star: 'it was Maggie’s baby" glenn IS the strap

Sunny: he was the mystery mouskatool <33

Star: "Jesus,” Glenn hissed" he's doing laundry, i think "Jesus’s very timid voice" KSOAKAKKA NOT ANYMORE I GUESS

Sunny: I WAS SOOOO TEMPTED to put in a line about how Glenn was like 'no I DIDN'T MEAN YOU WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE'

Star: "It’s not my fault I’m stuck on a full seven inches over here // Eight" alright you smug motherfucker

Sunny: I had to sneak in some weirdly cocky overly confident S2 Glenn attitude because that is the man I FELL IN LOVE WITH

Star: "you had just gotten off a particularly long, painful horse ride" basically what happened

Sunny: Glenn goes up behind reader and starts singing 'save a horse, ride a cowboy' because he thinks that he's being funny

Break The Brake

Dom!Maggie Rhee x Sub!Fem!Reader x Sub!Glenn Rhee

I want some more, I want some more - yeah.

Gimme some more, gimme some more - yeah.

Summary:

Maggie has a lot to deal with in life right now - she's the (unofficial) leader of The Hilltop, trying to take care of an entire community, and at the same time dealing with their whiny ousted ex-leader, all while in the early stages of her pregnancy, growing a person inside of her - and somehow, all of the stress makes her hornier than ever.

Luckily, you and Glenn are always there when she needs the two of you.

Or - Maggie fucks you and Glenn in Gregory's bed because he pissed her off.

Dom!Maggie Rhee x Sub!Fem!Reader x Sub!Glenn Rhee. Established Poly Relationship. Smut/PWP. Set during Season 7 (Glenn Lives AU).

Word Count: 10,900

The Walking Dead Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This is an AU of Season 7 (or even of Season 8, because it's after Negan is jailed, but whatever) - Glenn lives, and I did not specifically mention Abraham dying, so you can imagine that he lived too if you want to - Negan is in jail and all the communities, including what's left of the Saviors, are now living in peace; Glenn, Maggie, and the reader are all in an established poly relationship - at this point in the series, Glenn and Maggie would have been 'married', so the reader is a part of that marriage as well (and though I didn't explicitly state it in the fic, I imagine that the reader goes by the last name Rhee as well); this is during the part of the timeline when Maggie was pregnant (this is why I am saying S7, rather than S8) - still very early on in her pregnancy; discussion of Maggie's body going through changes due to the pregnancy (her gaining weight and a brief, passing mention of her feeling insecure due to that weight gain), also mentions of the pregnancy hormones increasing her libido; this fic DOES use Y/N; the reader has a vagina and breasts and uses she/her pronouns - the reader also has the ability to get pregnant and expresses the desire to get pregnant during the fic; there is mentions of the reader's breasts becoming 'swollen' during pregnancy, but this doesn't denote her pre-pregnancy size, this is just a symptom that comes with pregnancy and an exaggerated descriptor due to the kink-side of her partners being excited about her becoming pregnant; this has very little plot and is mostly smut; warnings for the smut specifically: technically pregnancy sex (because Maggie is pregnant) even though she is the dom commanding the two subs and not actually the one being fucked; a lot of sub/dom dynamics - Maggie is extremely dominant (she is a mean, rough dom), the reader is submissive (she is bratty and teasing), and Glenn is submissive (he is soft and very well behaved); Maggie calls the reader 'little bird' and 'darling girl' and 'brat' and 'whore', and 'sweet little bitch', and 'breeding bitch'; Mommy kink - both Glenn and the reader call Maggie Mommy; brat taming - between Maggie and the reader; bondage - Maggie ties the reader's wrists behind her back, and later in the fic, ties Glenn to the bed with his own belt; punishment and reward - the reader misbehaves and Maggie punishes her (and eventually rewards her); some brief descriptions of anal sex (as a brief flashback - and the flashback is trigger when Maggie uses it as a threat towards the reader, but it's not a main point of this fic); fingering - reader receiving; spanking/pain kink - from Maggie towards the reader; Maggie whips the reader with a belt (across the ass, in a way that is described as pleasure-pain); using a knife to cut off and remove clothes; unprotected penis in vagina sex - between Glenn and the reader; overstimulation - Glenn is 'forced' to cum multiple times to the point where it is painful (but he enjoys it); breeding kink - as I mentioned before, the reader wants to get pregnant (and Maggie also really wants this so that their babies will be close in age, and as things progress, Glenn gets very into it as well); mentions of using a vaginal plug (to keep the cum inside); I think that's actually about it.

A/N: Title comes from a song by Xdinary Heroes of the same name. I have been wanting to write more 'quick' fics for TWD, and this fic was supposed to be like 5k, and even though it turned out way longer than I intended it to, this is definitely one of my quicker fics. So I am really happy with it. I want to write more PWP for The Walking Dead because those fics will be quicker, and because it will help me write fics for characters I haven't yet written about that I really want to write for. So I am definitely going to be writing more PWP fics between working on my longer Daryl fic. Anyway, I had a lot of fun working on this fic, and while I most definitely did not think that this was going to be my first fic of the year, I am super excited to share it with you guys, and I really hope that everyone enjoys it!

...

Patience. 

It was one of the things that Maggie had mastered since becoming the leader of The Hilltop - well, the ‘unofficial’ leader. If you asked any one of the people who lived in the small community, they would tell you that Maggie was their leader. They would tell you that they looked to her for every important decision, even unimportant ones, and they followed her lead in everything. 

Gregory was nothing more than a figurehead - though, in a lot of ways, he wasn’t even that. Figureheads were supposed to be a symbol that people looked to as a representation of something good. But all Gregory represented was cowardice, selfishness, and these days - avoidance of any responsibilities that he claimed to have. He claimed that he was still the undisputed leader of the community, and that all the ‘work’ he had put into Hilltop most definitely still meant something to the people living there. But when it came to major decisions, if Maggie, Glenn, you, Sasha, and Jesus outweighed him on his word, then he simply didn’t get his way. 

Which led him to throwing a lot of childlike fits. Which led to Maggie being forced to develop a great deal of patience when it came to him. 

Often times, when Gregory huffed and argued with her, she could hear her father’s voice in the back of her mind, ranting on about Job and how God wouldn’t impart wrath on the ‘weak minded’ - especially when she felt the itch of her hand straying toward her gun. She wondered if her father had some hand in sending a man named Jesus to watch over her, ensuring that she didn’t murder this awful, annoying man in cold blood. 

“No, no. Absolutely not, I simply won’t have it!” 

Gregory’s petulant voice echoed off the walls of the front sitting room that he had declared as his ‘office’ - clearly, he was trying to have some power over the meeting that he had called to talk to Maggie about this latest issue. He sneered a grand huff through his nostrils as he hurled himself back into his seat - a luxurious upholstered chair that sat tall behind the large oak desk that he claimed to ‘work’ at. 

Maggie knew that he spent most of his time sitting there, reading through the expensive first edition book collection that lived in the Manor while he drank through the rare Scotch that Negan had given him when the extortion deals had still been in place. Hard work wasn’t something he was familiar with. 

Currently, he was throwing a fit because Maggie had demanded (‘suggested’ Jesus would remind her to say during the meeting) - that more of the beds within the house actually be put into use with winter coming up. The Manor was large and had over ten functional bedrooms, and currently, only two of them were in use. One - the largest main bedroom, being used by Gregory, as it had been since The Turn. 

And the second, more recently, being one of the smaller bedrooms on the ground floor had been taken up by you, Glenn, and Maggie. The three of you had only moved in there at Jesus’s insistence when he found out about Maggie’s pregnancy, and he felt utterly insulted at the idea of a pregnant woman sleeping outside in a trailer with thin metal walls. 

Gregory hadn’t liked the idea of the three of you moving into ‘his house’ - Maggie already knew that his ego took up most of the Manor, but he seemed especially perturbed about the three of you in particular moving in. And when prodded on the manner, he awkwardly danced around the fact that he seemed uncomfortable with your polyamorous relationship. Maggie wasn’t surprised. Even with the society everyone once knew dead and gone, only those closest to you seemed to truly understand what the three of you had without mocking it or believing that it was purely sexual. 

But Gregory’s annoyance and even anger toward you and Glenn only made it more satisfying for Maggie to fuck her two lovers in the new found comfort of the Manor’s bed, louder and louder, knowing that he might be kept awake at night by the noise and feel too awkward to say anything about it. 

But right now, as she stood with her arms firmly crossed, glaring him down, Maggie knew that this wasn’t just about you or Glenn or even the comfort of her and her unborn child. This was about the other people in the community who didn’t need to be stuck outside in poorly insulated trailers during the winter, sleeping on makeshift cots for beds when there was a luxurious mansion sitting twenty feet away. Gregory had been selfish and petulant long enough - if the house was his last stand, the place where he truly drew a line, then he could be the one to sleep outside. 

“This matter isn’t up for discussion, winter is coming up, and-” Maggie began, speaking firmly, but of course, she was cut off. 

“You’re right! This isn’t up for discussion!” Gregory bolstered back. “I don’t need a bunch of… hoodlums running in and out, potentially breaking my priceless artifacts-” 

Off to the side, you let out a harsh scoff. 

Your annoyance was already thick in the air and Maggie wondered if she was going to regret bringing you into this meeting. 

You were sitting in another one of the well padded chairs in the corner, your legs thrown over the arm of the chair in that care-free way that you always had about you. You gave Gregory a look that said you were amused, but tired of his bullshit, and Maggie wasn’t sure if she was thankful for the back-up or already tired at the thought that she might have to wrangle you away from a conflict with him. (Because historically, you had much less patience when it came to dealing with Gregory.) 

“Newsflash, asshole. Literally everything is priceless now. There’s no money anymore. And the world has literally turned on its head, in case you haven’t noticed. So canned beans and bullets are far more valuable than any of this old crap that you have in here,” 

To punctuate your point, you reached out one of your feet and with absolutely no hesitation, you knocked a vase off a nearby table. It was white with a blue pattern, and Maggie knew that it was likely one of those ‘priceless artifacts’ that Gregory had been talking about. It fell onto the floor and smashed into hundreds of tiny pieces, causing Gregory to jump out of his seat and stare at the mess as girlish gasp fell from his lips. Maggie pressed a firm hand to her forehead, already stressed out at the fact that she would have to mitigate the oncoming fight. 

“It’s all meaningless-” 

“That was Delftware!” Gregory shouted, turning red in the face with how viciously he raised his volume. 

Maggie’s hand brushed over her gun, and she forced herself to clench her fist with patience, moving to stand between you and Gregory when he finally moved out from behind his desk to approach you - not that she thought he would be any threat to you. The man was all talk. But still, she put a hand in the middle of his chest to force him to keep his distance while he glared at you over her shoulder. She became even more aggravated at the fact that she could almost feel the way you were smirking back at him, even if she couldn’t see it. 

“It’s just a damn vase, calm down.” Maggie told him, knowing that her annoyance wouldn’t do much to calm him down, but unable to hold back the words. 

“Ca - calm down? Me? Calm down?” Gregory balked, looking at her, utterly insulted. “You come into my home, break my things, and-” 

“And we tend your gardens to keep you fed, keep Walkers away, negotiate peace and trade with the other communities. Doesn’t Jesus do your laundry?” You added on, sass and impatience absolutely full in your voice. “If it wasn’t for Maggie and the people loyal to her, you would die naked and starving. But a pretty vase is more important, right?” 

Maggie locked her jaw, resisting the urge to add onto your point and agree with you, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. She hoped that your words - words that nobody else had dared to speak aloud, at least not to Gregory’s face before - would finally sink in. 

She wouldn’t find herself so lucky. 

Instead, the man continued to gape at the two of you, looking dumbfounded and insulted, as if he truly could not believe what you were saying. 

“I - I founded this community.” He said, going back to the only small leg he had to stand on. “I - uh. Are you going to let your little lackey talk to me this way?” He asked, turning to Maggie, as if hoping that she would dismiss you. 

Before Maggie was forced to pick a side in the spat, you spoke up again. 

“Are you stupid?” You asked, the words clearly directed at Gregory, sounding entirely casual and conversational, rather than intended to be a genuine insult. 

“Excuse me?” Gregory gasped. “How dare that you insinuate that my intelligence is anything other than above average, I have a degree from-” 

“It was just a question.” You shrugged. “I didn’t say ‘you are stupid’. I asked ‘are you stupid?’ - I was just wondering.” 

Maggie sighed and rolled her eyes, turning to you. 

“You. Hallway. Now.” She told you firmly, pointing a hand out toward the door, making an order that she hoped you would be smart enough not to refuse. 

You gave her a small smirk that she knew too well - you had been playing it up, dancing on her last nerve on purpose. Then, something inside of her shifted. All the tired frustration that she had been feeling was like coal to a wicked fire, fueling her into a lustful beast. One that was set to attack you the second that she got you alone. 

You got up out of your chair and moved into the hallway like she had told you to, your boots crunching over the bits of smashed porcelain that were still scattered across the floor. 

“Oh thank god, please tell me that you’re going to punish that wretched beast of a girl.” Gregory sighed. 

Maggie was planning on punishing you - but most definitely not in a way that Gregory would ever know about. 

Maggie turned back to him, fixing him in her sharp gaze now. 

“We are gonna start movin’ people into the bedrooms, whether you like it or not.” She said, making sure he knew that her decision was final. “If you don’t want to live in the house with other people, you can move into one of the trailers, or you can take your chances out on the road and try findin’ someplace else.” 

“You’re being completely unreasonable-” 

“And clean up that damn mess.” She said with finality as she moved to leave the room, slamming the door on his protests about how you should be forced to clean it up instead. 

When she was alone in the hallway with you, her gaze fixed on you like a hungry lioness. You were caught in her crosshairs, and there was no way you were going to escape. (Not that you wanted to.) 

You were leaning against one of the walls, perched there oh-so-casually, clearly waiting for her - maybe you weren’t clever enough to run away, not expecting the full measure of the wrath that she was about to bring onto you, or maybe you were eagerly awaiting it. 

“Are you stupid?” Maggie barked at you, recycling your own words back onto you as a kind of taunt. 

She crossed the hallway in three long strides, soon crowding into your personal space, and didn’t give you a moment to answer the question before she was devouring your mouth. She pinned you even tighter against the wall, completely uncaring of who might come across the two of you and see the utterly carnal exchange - nothing loving to mistake about it, gnashing teeth and panting breath, Maggie trying to devour you in a way that spoke of revenge. Clearly trying to shut you up, and you letting out precious little whimpers as you quickly became turned on by her powerful actions and struggled to keep up. 

“I’m not stupid.” You huffed against her chin when she finally pulled back from your lips, looking you in the eyes with a fierce, demanding gaze once again. “Maybe I’m just bored, or-” You choked on a breath, the words dissolving off in your throat. 

“What?” Maggie demanded. 

She could see the thoughts swimming behind your eyes, something lethal and lustful, something you were almost afraid to say. 

“Come on, speak up. Tell me, little bird.” 

It was a nickname that made you weak, caused a whimper from deep in your chest - something that she had called you since the beginning of the relationship that made your pussy flutter and made your heart sing. 

When your jaw quivered in hesitation and you still didn’t speak, Maggie reached up and harshly grabbed your nipple through your shirt - the peak already stuck off and visible through the thin fabric of your tee shirt, no bra in sight, making you even more of a tease in her eyes. She twisted harshly and wiggled her hold on the sensitive point for a prolonged moment, trying to force words out of you. You let out a small whine, and finally folded to her whims, divulging that secret desire. 

“I - I can’t stop thinking about how good you look cause you’re all knocked up,” You said, your voice edging on a whisper, trying to keep it as a secret just between the two of you. 

Your hands came forward and cradled her hips - hips that were now wider than they used to be thanks to the epic hunger the pregnancy had given her, something that made you and Glenn proud to satisfy as her providers while she was so busy providing for everyone else. Initially, the weight gain and the way her body changed in make-up (the fact that she was now more curvy than she ever had been) made her feel self conscious, made her feel a bit alien in her own skin. Especially when she had asked Glenn to get her bigger jeans on one of his last scavenging runs.

But now - Maggie’s insides were burning hotter than they had in weeks, raging with confidence and power and sheer need, and what you said cranked the fire up to a full blown inferno.  

“I can’t stop thinking about how gorgeous you look.” You said, digging your thumbs into the spot right above the waistband of her jeans, creating an intense tingle across her skin. “I… I wanna be gorgeous like that too.” 

The last words came out in a tiny, shy croak, and Maggie almost thought she was mistaken by your meaning - were you saying that you wanted to be pregnant too? 

“Say it.” Maggie commanded, stroking a sharp thumb across your cheek and your bottom lip, loving the absolutely enraptured, glassy look in your eyes already. “Say it, little bird.” 

“I wanna get pregnant.” You told her, your throat tight around the words as you became swallowed up by your own lust, the statement delivering a beautiful gut punch to Maggie’s stomach. 

Her mind was instantly flooded with images of Glenn fucking into you furiously at her command, pulling out - his cock red and raw, drooling and wet with a combination of your cum and his, leaving your cunt used and leaking. Maggie would shove that cum back up inside of you with her fingers to make sure that it took, forcing tears from your eyes as you whined and complained about how sore you were - but it was what you asked for. Your body needed to be fucked and used and filled if you wanted a baby. 

She conjured up mental images of your tits swollen and aching, holding them in her hands and feeling how heavy they were, getting to grope all over your body to feel how big and beautiful you were becoming with Glenn’s baby growing inside of you. 

And of course, the sentimental part took hold, and she realized that it meant that your kids would grow up close in age. They would be half-siblings biologically - just like her and Beth. It was a needy chime that clanged in her heart that instantly needed to be answered. If you wanted to be pregnant, then Maggie would make it happen. 

And then, another stroke of genius flashed into her mind. 

She grabbed your wrist and dragged you toward the stairs, and along the way, she spotted something hanging on the railing that would definitely help her in her quest - Jesus had left one of the ropes for the horses bundled up there, so Maggie grabbed it in her free hand and continued hauling you along forcefully behind her. 

She smiled widely to herself when she arrived at the end of the hallway and pushed you in through Gregory’s bedroom doorway. He didn’t want people ruining his precious house. Fuck him. Maggie was going to ruin his damn bed. 

She followed in behind you and slammed the door shut behind her, and you stared at her with lustful awe in your eyes. 

“Uh - Mags, don’t we need Glenn for this part?” You asked, feeling a bitter thrill run up your spine as you watched her take out her knife and cut off a short length of the rope with it. 

Maggie let out a dark chuckle - one that made your pussy clench and scared you a little at the same time. She put away her knife, walked over to you, and shoved you down onto the bed with a surprising force. Not that it would take much to topple you when you were this dizzy with lust, shaking with anticipation. 

“Darling girl, you still need to be punished for what you did downstairs,” She told you, giving you a dark look. 

You choked on a moan and felt yourself most definitely getting wetter - this was what you had been hoping for all afternoon. You were absolutely pliant to her actions when she flipped you onto your stomach and brought both your hands behind your back, tying your wrists together with the abrasive rope that most definitely wasn’t meant for this - it rubbed against your skin in a harsh way that lit up your nerves and somehow, turned you on even more. 

Your stomach churned with anticipation and your breath came out in hot pants, and you quickly became dizzier by the second as you wondered what she was going to do to you. 

“Just because that old fucker is an awful, thick-skulled, stupid man doesn’t mean that you get to go around actin’ like a rude brat,” Maggie told you, reaching for the waistband of your jeans and your underwear at the same time, harshly pulling the fabric down over your ass, leaving your drooling cunt exposed to the open air in seconds. 

You clenched around nothing, feeling more wetness leak out of you, and you knew that she could see it - just how embarrassingly needy and wet you were for her. 

“If you can behave yourself through this, then maybe - maybe I’ll go get Glenn and let him stuff your little pussy so you can get your wish, alright?” 

You let out a sharp moan at this, and nodded furiously. 

“But if you keep actin’ like a damn brat, then I’ll probably have him fuck your ass for practice instead and you won’t even get to cum at all,” 

You let out a louder moan - strangely enough, this idea turned you on even more, even though it was entirely counter-productive to your goals. But you remembered the feeling of his cock in your ass from past experiences. 

Back at the quarry camp in Atlanta when he brought you back lube from one of his runs to call you out on something he thought was a joke, and you ended up pinned against a tree with his whimpers huffing in your ear, loving the feeling of his cum running down your leg after he pulled out, laughing about how you were ‘crazy’ and it was a ‘weird first date’ (which, it was). Back before the two of you had Maggie - back before the two of you realized that the crazy sex would actually lead to something more. 

The memory alone caused more wetness to leak out of you - which Maggie wiped up with two fingers that she promptly shoved inside you with a sharp jab, absolutely no gentleness or warning. The touch lit up your insides with that rough, beautiful feeling, causing your hips to seize up off the bed toward her, instantly seeking more of the friction, more of the fullness. 

“God, you are such a little whore,” She taunted you, beginning to fuck you with those two fingers in quick, aggressive strokes. 

“I - I’ll be good,” You choked out, turning your head so that your words wouldn’t be lost against the sheets. “I’ll be good, I swear!” 

“Yeah?” She taunted you, her voice melting into that fake, honey-sweet tone that turned you on far too much. “You gonna be a good whore? You gonna be a good little whore instead of a dumb fucking brat?” 

Then, without any warning, she brought her free hand down onto you in a vicious slap - spanking you harshly across the ass cheek. You let out a moan - enjoying the mixture of bright pain that tingled across your skin and the blinding, sharp pleasure that came from inside of you where she was still fucking you with her fingers, absolutely relentless. She was quickly melting you, turning you into the pliant, submissive, easy girl that she knew you could be. 

She was powerful like that. She could have you exactly where she wanted you within minutes. 

“Are you gonna earn it?” 

She said, her voice becoming slightly breathless from the efforts, but still utterly commanding and powerful in the room - especially past the sounds of you whining and the wet slapping of your pussy under her fingers, being played like a piano for her. Another smack came across your ass from her another hand and you let out another pathetic moan. 

“Are you gonna earn the right to be knocked up?” 

“Yes!” You cried out in return. “Yes, Mommy!” 

“Good girl.” 

… 

“I need to talk to you.” 

Glenn had absolutely no clue what he had done to warrant such a harsh tone from Maggie - firm, demanding, serious. It was her work voice. It was her bossy voice - her ‘something is going down’ voice. 

Glenn knew that Maggie had a meeting with Gregory that morning - the man still demanded to be let in on certain ‘matters’, even though, thanks to Maggie, and Jesus, and Sasha, he had very little control over what went on in the small settlement anymore. But he knew how to push Maggie’s buttons, a lot. So either she was pissed off because of something Gregory had done, or something bad was happening. 

Glenn found himself unable to move, pure fear struck into him due to the tone of her voice alone, and the stern expression that was knit across her face. He had been picking through a large wooden carriage of goods dropped off by The Kingdom, sorting out a trade haul of both fresh and salvaged items that The Hilltop would need to feed everyone. 

Maggie added on even more firmly:

“In private. Now.” 

Roused to action by the urgency of her words, Glenn clattered behind her nervously, then, drawn to her bossy energy like a moth to a flame. Usually, it was something that turned him on, now, it was just putting a terrible anxiety deep in his gut. He pattered behind her confident strides with his usual quick steps, wondering what the hell was going on. 

Since Maggie had become the unofficial leader of Hilltop, her days had been packed with a busy schedule that caused a lot of stress. Naturally, Gregory felt betrayed when ‘his’ people constantly chose her and looked to her for leadership, especially when going through conflicts with the Saviors that ultimately ended in a peaceful unification after Negan had been jailed. (Gregory had felt even more sour when he had chosen the wrong side, and still, Maggie and Rick had chosen to save his life.) 

So these days he mostly just sequestered himself off in his office and drank and pretended that he was actually the one making decisions for the community when everyone looked to Maggie for true leadership. 

This meant that Maggie was the truly busy one - she was the one making decisions about food, building more shelters for the growing community, trading with the other communities around them, how to deal with Walkers and potential threats like the Saviours (should those threats come up), medical care. Her days were packed with meetings, gardening to ensure the security of the food supply, and often, traveling off to the other communities to have more meetings. All while she was dealing with the hormones from her pregnancy. 

She was adorably round as she entered her second trimester, her stomach just starting to show the cute pouch of a true baby bump - something that distracted Glenn increasingly as the days went on and made him smile. (That, along with the fact that her breasts were definitely growing and her ass was most definitely getting wider. Something she complained about that he found… viciously temping.) While she was busy taking care of the entire community, he was trying his best to take care of her - always chasing her down to eat and trying to make sure that she got the right amount of sleep. 

And he was worried that something big and terrible had happened now - something that would cause her and the baby far too much stress. 

When they arrived at the main house, Glenn wasn’t surprised when the large sitting room off to the side was closed off, Gregory clearly having closed himself in, sulking again. Maggie tightly grabbed his hand and began literally dragging him up the stairs, causing him to stumble over his own feet as she raced a bit faster than he could keep up. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, tripping over the edge of one of the fancy long rugs lining the intricately decorated hallways. “Is someone dead?” He dared to ask. “Did I do something? Am I in trouble? Maggie, come on-” 

She shoved him inside the largest bedroom at the end of the hall - a room that Glenn could have sworn belonged to Gregory. But he couldn’t bring himself to care at all when Maggie quickly pulled the door shut behind them, locked it, and then yanked him close with two fingers tucked into his belt. 

He barely had a moment to think before her mouth was on his, smothering him with an intense heat that he had missed so damn badly, even though it had only been two days since the last time they had fucked. 

Oh. The state of her urgency and need for privacy truly clicked into his brain. Oh, fuck. 

Glenn let out a sharp moan into her mouth - one that was only amplified when she pushed her tongue forcefully past his lips and reached for his belt. She swiftly unbuckled it and unzipped his jeans, reaching into the fly to forcefully grope his cock through his underwear, bringing him to full hardness so quickly that his head began to spin. 

He let out another thick groan that was quickly swallowed by her perfect mouth - his mind was melting so quickly that he felt like he was frying inside of a giant pan, but he truly didn’t care. Her touch was just too good - all of it was just too good. 

Glenn almost swore that he could taste the sharp tang of pussy in her mouth, a brightness that made him crave and want even more, that made him dizzy and pliant to her, but that would mean that you - 

“Mommy?” 

Glenn’s stomach jolted when he heard a pathetic moan that wasn’t his own, and Maggie parted far enough from him to allow his head to veer off toward the sound with horny curiosity flashing brightly through him. 

Surely enough, there you were. 

He wasn’t even sure when he had closed his eyes, but when he managed to peel them open, he discovered an utterly filthy sight that he was sure Maggie had left there just for him to enjoy. 

You were propped against the bed, your cheek pressed against the expensive silk comforter, your mouth wide open and drooling, clearly already fucked out. Your hands were tied behind your back with a rough braided rope that was typically used on the horses, one that was abrasive on your skin and would surely leave marks that would last for days or even weeks and would be obvious to everyone. Hell, those kinds of marks might even be alarming to some people who didn’t know about the rumors of your ‘behind closed doors’ activities if you didn’t wear long sleeves in the coming days. 

Your feet were still planted firmly on the floor, leaving your ass exposed to the open air, your stomach leaning on the edge of the bed, with your jeans hastily ripped down to your knees - clearly, Maggie had been in just as much of an urgent rush with you too. The skin of your ass cheeks was bright and raw, already bruising slightly in some places - obviously, Maggie had delivered a vicious spanking to you over something you had done that had displeased her. 

If you had sat through your punishment well, perhaps taking Glenn’s cock would be your reward. Glenn’s body tingled with pleasure at the thought. 

Especially because your cunt was so pretty and used - clearly Maggie had been playing with it while she had been spanking you. You were so wonderfully raw, spread open and puffed with blood and absolutely drunk with your wetness. The glistening slick spread all over your cute pussy hair and leaking down to slick up your thighs, your hole clenching with anticipation - clearly, you hated the emptiness. (Glenn yearned to march over there and thrust inside of you, filling you up - but he was absolutely not mistaken about the fact that Maggie was in charge.) 

He was instantly struck with a mental image of Maggie forcing you onto the bed, tying your hands behind your back and then shoving her face into your cunt - alternating between forcefully fucking you open with her fingers and spanking your ass until you were crying out for her to stop. 

Her arms had gotten so strong from the farm work, long hours digging holes with shovels with no heavy machinery to help the process along, lifting heavy bags of fertilizer even when Glenn insisted she shouldn’t, carrying large buckets of water - Glenn would be lying if he said that the fact that she could pin him down so easily didn’t turn him on. 

The mental image somehow made him even more turned on than he already was. And of course, with perfect timing, Maggie gave another harsh grope to his cock and ravenously bit at his neck. He had a feeling that if anymore blood rushed away from his brain to rapidly fill up his dick and balls, he would likely soon pass out - but then the idea of Maggie simply not caring and using him as an unconscious fucktoy turned him on even more in a wickedly depraved way. 

“Y/N,” Glenn panted out your name, already struggling to breathe. 

You flailed on the bed slightly, looking like a fish struggling on dry land because of the difficult position Maggie had left you in with your hands trapped behind your back (your body likely jelly and tired from one orgasm having rocked you, if not a few by now). Eventually, you managed to crane your head enough to see him, and you let out a little wicked laugh when you saw that Maggie was mauling his neck and already had his pants down over his thighs. 

“Glenn!” You called back breathlessly in return. “You should have run when you had the chance, dude! These pregnancy hormones are making her fucking insane,” 

There was a wicked kind of delight to your voice - and Glenn wasn’t quite sure what the sentiment behind your words was; if you truly felt like he would regret this because Maggie was too wound up to be reasoned with (which could very well be the case). Or if you wanted to keep her all to yourself because you could be a sucker for punishment at times, and you liked her when she was at her most ‘insane’. Glenn had seen how sometimes, you loved to tease Maggie just to drive her ‘insane’ so that she would spank you and overstimulate you until you nearly passed out. 

Glenn, on the other hand, was softer. And typically, he enjoyed one or two rounds of playful sex or even making love - so perhaps your warning was a bit of both. Perhaps you knew that Glenn couldn’t quite handle Maggie when she was like this, but you could. 

At your words, Maggie scoffed and pulled away from Glenn’s skin, and before he could truly miss the sensation of her soft lips sucking on him, he became intrigued by what she did next. She moved to grab his belt, swiftly pulling it out of the loops of his jeans, now wielding the leather in her hands in a way that was all too familiar - a weapon. It was something she had used against you before. 

“Why do you always have to be such a goddamn brat?” 

She scolded you sharply, and then, she stepped toward you, holding on tight to one end of the belt - Glenn watched with a delightful knot in his stomach as she wound her arm back, and he realized a moment too late that the end she was whipping toward you was the end with the metal buckle attached to it. 

“Mommy-” 

“Shut up!” She hissed at you in the same moment that the metal struck across your skin, creating a sharp welt across the width of one of your ass cheeks, causing you to yelp and jolt away from the sensation, and unmistakably - causing a fresh wave of hot slick to gush out of your cunt. 

“Jesus, Maggie, the buckle!” Glenn spoke up, alarmed. 

He couldn’t help it, it was just his nature. Even if you relaxed your muscles and moaned in pleasure moments after the hit washed over you, and you didn’t make any verbal protests. You knew that, even as ‘insane’ as Maggie was, there was always room for you to do so if you needed to. Glenn always had your best interests at heart. Again, he was just soft like that. 

“She’s fine. You know she’s a pain lovin’ whore.” 

Maggie scoffed again, rolling her eyes. But then, something else struck her, causing her hot streak to be turned toward him as she dropped the belt onto the floor with a dull ‘clank’. 

“Wait - what did you just call me?” 

“I - uh-” 

Glenn began to stutter, and instinctively backed up when Maggie charged toward him, almost tripping over his own pants (which had now fallen down around his ankles). But he was quickly stopped in his tracks when Maggie grabbed him by the cock again - taking a firm, deadly hold on his cock and balls through his underwear, causing him to freeze deadly still when her sharp, untrimmed nails dug into his flesh oh-so-slightly. 

He wasn’t one for pain, but for some reason, it sent a perfect tingle through him, and made his cock throb so perfectly. It sent an epic rush of adrenaline through him and he puffed a hot breath into her face while she stared him down with an utterly predatory gaze, and behind her, he could see you flailing again, desperately trying to see what was going on over your shoulder. 

“What did you call me?” Maggie repeated, firmer, fiercer this time. 

“Your name.” He wheezed out, knowing that he sounded utterly pathetic. 

“No, that is not my name.” She replied, annoyance twinging into her voice. “Not here. Not when we’re alone. Now come on - what is my name? What are you supposed to call me?” 

Glenn, growing dizzier with lust by the second, knew that there was only one correct answer. 

“Mommy.” 

He whined in reply, grateful when she released her death grip on his cock and smoothed a more forgiving touch across his shaft through the fabric, causing him to let out a tiny weep of precum in response. He shuddered and let out a whimper and he absolutely did not miss her utterly satisfied cat-like smirk as she turned back to you, giving him one last glance over her shoulder - naturally, with more dominating words. 

“Get undressed. You have work to do.” 

Glenn knew that the instructions were simple and certain for a reason - they were meant to be followed without question. Just like her place in the rest of the world, when Maggie picked out a job for him in their relationship, she assigned it to him with finite simplicity, and it was always best not to question her leadership. 

(He had realized a bit too late that she had decided to get pregnant before he even considered it an option, and he was just happily fucked dumb and too pleased to question why he was allowed to cum inside of her beautiful pussy now.) 

Glenn rushed to undo the buttons of his shirt with clumsy hands, still eagerly watching as Maggie went back over to you, clearly not done with you yet. She raised her hand up, and laid a harsh, open-handed spank across your ass, specifically targeting the harsh welt that the belt buckle had left on your skin to maximize the jolt of pain that went through you. 

It definitely worked, according to the wail you let out and the way your body seized up off the bed. Even though Glenn wasn’t someone usually turned on by pain, he couldn’t deny the way his cock throbbed and let out another thick bead of precum, especially when you choked on a moan as she smoothed her warm hands over your skin, coddling you in turn with the harsh pain. 

“Maggie-” You whined, making the same mistake that Glenn had earlier, earning you another sharp smack - one that had her wedding ring grazing across your skin sharply in a way that made you squeal. 

“Are you stupid?” She barked, quickly moving two fingers back to your gaping cunt and shoving them inside without any gentleness, fucking into your raw hole so quickly that you saw stars. “Or are you tryna piss me off again? Huh?” 

“‘m sorry, sorry! Ah!” 

“What? I’m sorry, darlin’, I can’t hear you!” Maggie replied in a sing-song type voice, clearly teasing you as she continued to viciously fuck your cunt, digging her nails into the flesh of your ass with the other hand, waiting for you to say the magic words - or rather, the one magic word she wanted to hear. 

Glenn’s insides jumped at the pure, filthy ‘squelch’ that rang out through the air, his tongue becoming fat in his mouth as he yearned to push between your thighs and taste that wetness. He raced to tear his feet out of the mess of fabric around his ankles, kicking off his shoes, finally getting out of his remaining clothing to be fully naked and free. He deeply resisted the urge to reach down and touch his throbbing cock where it jutted out from his pelvis, heavy, aching and needy, because he knew that would only get him scolded and put him on Maggie’s bad side. He knew that if he wanted to cum tonight, he should stay on her good side. 

He moved forward to stand behind Maggie, eagerly looking over her shoulder and down at you as he waited for her next direction, drinking in the sight of her two fingers jabbing into your pussy with no mercy. 

“I’m sorry, Mommy!” You cried out in return, finally giving her what she wanted. 

“Better.” She sighed, pulling her fingers out - clearly, she had never been fucking your pussy with the intention of making you cum, but simply playing with you like the toy that you were, winding you up for her own enjoyment. 

She leaned down and left a sharp, sudden bite on your ass, right on that same already sore spot, enjoying the scream you let out - another beautifully pathetic sound that only served to remind her of the power she held over you. 

She then reached to her belt, going for the knife that she always kept there. For a moment, Glenn thought that she might cut the rope and finally free your wrists - but she surprised him when she used a hold on your arm to turn you over until you were resting on your back. 

Once again, moving with utter certainty, she brought the blade to the bottom of your tee shirt and began slicing, easily tearing the fabric in half until your entire body was exposed - leaving your bare chest heaving as you let out a wild moan, far too turned on by the act of her cutting your clothes off you. 

“Fuck, Mommy-” You breathed out, now most definitely in that buttery, utterly subservient headspace that Maggie needed you to be in. 

“You gonna be a good little whore?” Maggie asked with a smirk, putting her knife back into its holster. 

Before you had time to answer, she reached out a sharply twisted one of your nipples, causing you to let out a pathetic wail, arching into the touch. 

“Ah! Yes! Yes, Mommy!” You replied, quivering and entirely subservient to her. “I’m yours. I’m good - I’ll be good. Please.” 

Glenn’s skin was tingling with the feeling lingering in the air, drool easily pooling in his mouth just from getting to witness this. He was surprised when a small gasp escaped his lips as Maggie delivered a small smack to one of your tits, truly driving home her power with a little bit of extra pain, having you moaning and pressing your tits into the air, eager for more. 

“Good.” Maggie said firmly. “Mommy’s glad you’re finally ready to be filled up.” 

Glenn was more than eager and willing, but he should have been slightly afraid when Maggie reached back to the ground and grabbed his belt once again. 

He should have been anticipating that what came next was going to drive him beyond his limits, but truly - he was far too turned on to care. 

… 

Not much later, Glenn found himself flat on his back in the middle of the bed, his hands tangled up and bound by the leather of his belt. He was tied to one of the slats on the fancy wooden headboard, with you completely divested of any remaining clothing and perched above him, your hands still tied behind your back, meaning that both of you had absolutely no control over the situation. Exactly how Maggie preferred things. 

Maggie had manhandled you into place with that perfect, well-worked strength of hers and hadn’t hesitated to perch you right on top of Glenn’s cock, forcing you to sink down on top of his thick, eight-inch length - so now you were surrounding him like a wonderful, wet, hot sleeve. It was a feeling that had driven him insane within seconds. 

Of course, you were clumsy and had practically no control, even though you were the one on top of him. You could do nothing with your arms tight behind your back and your legs weak from Maggie’s earlier brutal fucking of your pussy. You could do nothing but let her guide you. With her hands firm on your hips, she was using you like a perfect doll, like a fleshlight on Glenn’s cock, hammering you down onto his pelvis. 

And though he was blind to how long it had been since you had sunk down onto his cock (he certainly wasn’t timing it and wasn’t keeping an eye on any one of the antique clocks in the room, not with your gorgeous tits swaying in front of his face) - it felt like it had been hours of brutal heat gripping him, smothering him in a private desert that had covered him in a thick sheen of sweat and made his muscles ache from the effort. 

He was already swimming in a puddle of his own cum, his heavy balls already soaked and sloppy slick, making everything sound even filthier every single time Maggie dropped you down on top of him once again, making him feel gross in a way that somehow turned him on. He couldn’t help but to love every second of this - his mind hazy, his mouth wide open as he panted like a dog, desperate for air, your tits bouncing in his face as you moved on top of him with just as much desperation, chanting in quiet mumbles under your breath. 

“Fill me up, fill me up, fuck-” 

Somehow, he was still iron hard inside of you from the sheer demand of your hot pussy squeezing him, from Maggie’s beautiful southern voice going on, and on, telling the both of you exactly what she wanted. 

“He’s gonna fill you up so good,” Maggie said, petting a hand across Glenn’s stomach in a sweet way that made his aching muscles melt. “Aren’t you, honey? Yeah? You’re gonna fill our girl up so good - gonna fill up this little pussy til she can’t take anymore,” 

His cock was almost in pain at this point, and he almost felt like a prisoner, tied up and trapped underneath you with Maggie’s piercing eyes staring at him over your shoulder. But he realized that this was the best place in the world to be trapped. It was a smothering heat, a stinging pain that drove him insane. But it was where he was needed - it was a demand from two of the finest women in the world, a need for him, for his cock - a need that nobody else could ever fill. If it made Glenn a prisoner, then he would serve a life sentence and be a Walker chained up for the two of you to mock and admire as some kind of sick ornament and he would be happy about it. 

It was the best kind of torture he could have ever imagined. 

“Fuck, it hurts,” 

Glenn whined, his head utterly dizzy - he wasn’t even sure if it was a complaint or not, simply a statement of fact. It was a point of awe as a jolt of sharp pleasure-pain zapped through his rod-hard cock and somehow - he found himself loving it, found himself letting out a sharp whine and jostling his hips up into your heat, seeking more of that delicious, deadly feeling. 

“Aww, darlin, it’s almost like you’re new at this,” 

Maggie replied, tossing him a grin. 

She reached around a pinched one of your nipples, and you arched into the touch, and Glenn found his jaw lolling open in a sharp pant, his neck arching forward automatically with the urge to taste, the need to lap over that delicious, plump skin. But he was tied down with his arms stretched high above his head and unable to reach, and if he had any brain left in his head at all, he would have known that he must have looked like a foolish, dumb dog chasing after a treat that he couldn’t have. 

“I get what I want.” Maggie continued on. “And what I want - is for this sweet little bitch to be pregnant. By tonight.” Maggie grabbed your cheeks sharply on both sides to emphasize the point, and you let out a whine in response. “So you’re gonna get your job done, Glenn. You’re gonna breed her up good, or I��m gonna leave the two of ya tied up here til it’s done - got it?” 

Glenn huffed out a breath - the mental image of you pregnant, especially pregnant alongside Maggie, both of you round together, with swollen breasts and glowing skin and… both of you having his babies, both of you needy for his cock, waking him up in the middle of the night, just as demanding as Maggie had been over the past few weeks. It was just as terrifying and dizzying as it was absolutely thrilling. 

“I want it.” You moaned out, your voice echoing and frantic. “I want it, I want it, I want it! Please, Glenn!” 

You looked down at him with tears glassy across your eyes, your utter desperation punching him in the gut. 

You really wanted to get pregnant. You really wanted to get pregnant with his baby. 

Fuck. 

“Promise her.” Maggie barked. “Promise her that you’re gonna knock her up!” 

She then lightly smacked Glenn across the thigh behind you, jolting him into action.

“Fuck, ah!” Glenn gasped. “I promise. I promise, Y/N. I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll give you as many babies as you want, I swear.” 

He wished that he could have pulled you close to kiss you as a way of sealing his promise, an in that silent way that she always understood him, Maggie grabbed you harshly by the hair and shoved you down toward Glenn, pressing your tits tightly up against his chest as she shoved your mouth into his in a messy, sloppy, somehow very heart-warming kiss. Glenn moaned into your mouth and you shoved your tongue past his lips, entirely eager to taste him. 

“You’re gonna look so gorgeous when you’re all knocked up, little bird.” Maggie whispered in your ear. “Such a pretty little breeding bitch for us,” 

All too soon, she yanked you away from Glenn’s mouth with that hold on your hair, and the harsh tugging on your roots causing a delightful spike of pain combined with her filthy words sent your body spiralling towards the edge. 

“Fuck, Mommy!” 

You choked on a moan and Glenn felt you spasming around him, your hips grinding non-rhythmically on his cock in sharp jumps - fuck, you were cumming. You were cumming just from the idea of him knocking you up. 

And fuck - he was cumming again too. 

Glenn let out a grunt from deep within his chest and instinctively fucked himself up into you in a few sharp pumps. But at this point, when the hot flood came spilling from his cock, mixing with your overflowing wetness and his own previous loads of cum, he couldn’t even tell where the new mess began and the old mess ended. It was all just stickiness and filth at this point. 

There was a single, tiny moment where he thought that his dick just might give up - where his body might forcibly black out and that he would wake up later, inevitably in this same position of utterly beautiful torture. But instead, a sharp, tingling pain ran across his skin and developed into a mild muscle cramp in his pelvis, and he remained rock-hard inside of you, once again squeezed by your gorgeous, wet, warm pussy while Maggie kept grinding you down across his filthy wet pubic hair. 

“Fuck, fuck, Mommy - I’m so full, I’m so full-” 

You stuttered out, your eyes shut and your words slurring with a kind of drunkenness as your head tipped back to rest on Maggie’s shoulder - she looked at you with a unique, utterly satisfied, near villainous expression as she smoothly petted away some stray hairs from your face. Her breasts were heaving inside of her shirt and Glenn could just imagine how wet she was inside of her jeans. 

“Well, that’s the point, little bird.” She told you softly, her voice a coo that was edging on teasing once again. “You’re s’pose to get all full til you’re little cunt can’t take anymore… get all bred up and give Mommy another baby.” 

Glenn let out a growl at these words - his brain utterly possessed by the idea that yes, it was Maggie’s baby. It was his baby. It was your baby, just like the baby inside of her was yours. The three of you so utterly interconnected that you might as well be handcuffed together on a daily basis. 

Maggie put a firm hand on your lower belly, as if to demonstrate her point, as if willing Glenn’s cum to take, to get you pregnant right then and there. You arched into the touch, inadvertently grinding yourself against him in a way that drove him even more insane. 

“I need it, fuck, I need it,” You mumbled out ravenously. “I need to be full, I to be bred, please,” 

Somewhere along the way, Glenn had realized that this was about revenge. 

Maggie wanted to fuck in Gregory’s bed to get back at him. Jesus wouldn’t let her kill him, not without good reason. Especially not since tentative peace had been established with the Saviours - he went on about how ‘no more bloodshed’ was necessary, and in a way, as annoying as he found Gregroy, Glenn agreed. 

So Maggie found other ways to get back at him. She had you and Jesus drink his good scotch to reward the two of you for all your hard work, and she would dilute the bottles with water when the two of you were done. Then she would quietly laugh whenever the man droned on about how good a ‘finely aged’ drink tasted, clearly knowing that his unrefined palette could not taste the difference between actually good scotch and the watered down bullshit that she had left him. She snuck Rick and Daryl some of his fine cigars when they arrived with trade items, and when he asked why the count was lower when he remembered, she acted clueless and told him that his count must have been off. 

But this was the most brazen she had ever been with her taunting of Gregory. 

Some part of Glenn knew that she had absolutely no intentions of changing the sheets - that a great part of her satisfaction would come from leaving dried cum all over his fine linens and either forcing him to clean it up himself (leaving him with the awkward, embarrassing knowledge of what it was). Or letting him be foolish enough to sleep in it if he somehow didn’t notice it. With Maggie always knowing that he was sleeping on the same mattress where Glenn had fucked a baby into you (if he got it right on the first try, which - he didn’t think he was going to miss with this much of his cum stuffed inside of you now). 

And somehow, that thought turned him on, too. 

Maggie reached down behind you and Glenn let out a very undignified wail when she groped his balls - the skin was slick with your wetness, but he was already so sore, his body so spent and used. The touch sent a sensation through his body, rocking him with overwhelming pleasure - he wasn’t sure how he remained conscious at that point. 

“Got anymore for me?” She asked, giving him a wicked grin. “Huh? You gonna be a good boy for me ‘n fill our girl up some more?” 

“Jesus,” Glenn hissed, intensely overwhelmed - between Maggie’s words, her touch, and the clench of your cunt around him once again as Maggie’s other hand reached up to tweak your nipple - her question was truly answered. 

Like a man possessed, Glenn choked on a breath and garbled spit, somehow shooting another load into your already well used, very wet pussy. Maggie hummed in a pleased tone, and then, seemingly, planted her hands on your hips with the purpose of finally moving you off Glenn. 

But she was disrupted by a knock on the door. The sound shook Glenn with anxiety - up until that moment, he had been so perfectly stuck in a bubble where only you, him, and Maggie existed, and hadn’t even thought about the consequences of getting caught. 

“Hey, uh - Maggie?” Jesus’s very timid voice came from the other side of the door. Usually he wasn’t shy, but… god, he must have heard what was going on behind the closed door, making him incredibly hesitant to interrupt. “Sasha just arrived with those panels for the greenhouse that you wanted, and she wants to go over the plans again, so… do you mind coming downstairs?” 

“Be right there!” Maggie called back. 

Much to Glenn’s horror, she climbed off the bed, leaving you to drop back onto Glenn’s cock firmly. You let out another harsh noise as he sank deep inside of you again and Glenn practically saw stars as his body shook with overstimulation. Maggie didn’t look back in your direction - she crossed the room to the door (leaving behind the flannel she had been wearing as an outer shirt, now only in a thin tank top) and her boots, and she scooted out the door, closing it behind her quickly, as to not let any wandering eyes peek inside. 

But this left you and Glenn, tied up, stuck together - his cock still fully seated inside of you. (He was willing himself to go soft, to relax, but it was incredibly difficult with you squirming on top of him and making those pretty little noises as you did so, your tits heaving with every breath, your blissful, fucked-out face still right there in his line of sight, your heat still fully gripping his aching, sore dick. Fuck.) 

“Can - can you get off me?” Glenn choked out, absolutely no power in his voice, meek and whimpery as ever. 

“I’m trying.” You moaned back weakly, still squirming. Your thighs were quivering terribly and your knees were shaking as you tried to lift yourself up, your arms absolutely no help to give you leverage while they were held hostage with the rough rope behind your back. “It’s not my fault I’m stuck on a full seven inches over here.” 

“Eight.” Glenn mumbled back in return. (He wasn’t even being cocky with the correction, not in his opinion. It was simply factual.) 

“Now is not the time, pizza boy.” You grumbled in complaint, letting out another weak whimper when you accidentally caused his tip to graze across a partially weak spot inside of you, causing more wetness to flood out around the base of his cock - something he definitely felt, and hated how it made his cock throb sorely. 

“Fuck, stop that!” He growled at you. 

“Stop? Stop what? Stop trying to get up like you fucking told me to?” You replied, annoyed - Maggie had been gone for about a minute, and you had already developed back into a mean brat. No surprise there. “Make up your fucking mind, Glenn, because I know that you’re whiny and overstimulated, but I could sit on your cock all day if I wanted to-” 

Your empty threat was quickly cut off when the bedroom door swung open again, and Maggie charged back inside. 

“You know, I should make you do it.” Maggie said, clearly having heard your words. 

Both you and Glenn craned your necks to look at her as she sat in one of the large cushioned armchairs and began putting on her boots, all graceful confidence and power, every single move calculated and elegant - making the two of you wait with baited breath before she spoke again. 

“You’re such a goddamn brat - I should make you stay there, stuffed full until I come back to get you.” 

“Maggie, please.” Glenn begged quietly, trying to appeal to her - giving her his best puppy eyes, trying to remind her that he had done nothing wrong. 

She let out a harsh sigh, defeated, unable to resist that look from him. 

When she stood up from the chair, she finally came over and grabbed you with an arm around your waist, hoisting you off Glenn - the two of you parting made the filthiest sound, slick and wet as his cock slapped down onto his stomach. You were left gaping, a flood of cum instantly leaking out of you and making a mess over your thighs and across the bed, exactly as Maggie had wanted. 

Glenn found himself enraptured by the sight - especially when you inevitably clenched your pussy around the empty feeling and more of his cum spilled out of you. 

Maggie couldn’t help herself - she reached out and used two fingers to push the mess back into you, causing you to whimper weakly as the intrusion prodded against your swollen, well-used walls. 

“I should fuck you again.” Maggie whispered against your ear, a hot threat as she shoved her fingers deep inside of you, rough and unforgiving. “I should teach you a lesson for mouthin’ off to Glenn. But - I do have a meeting to get to.” 

You let out a sigh of relief when she pulled her fingers out of you, and then reached for her knife, finally moving to cut the rope holding your wrists giving your now very sore arms some room to move and stretch. Maggie then moved to untie Glenn, and instinctively, when he saw the raw skin of your wrists from the rough texture of the rope, he couldn’t help but to bring your hand up and kiss across your wrist, wanting to soothe it a bit, even if just emotionally. 

“You’re too soft with her.” Maggie scolded him, no real heat behind it. “That’s why she’s such a brat.” 

“Maybe.” Glenn shrugged in reply, giving you a small smile, which you easily returned. 

You wanted to make a comment about how you were a brat because you liked to see how far you could push Maggie - but you held the words in. 

“Go get cleaned up,” Maggie told Glenn, picking up his pants and pushing them into his hands, and then shoving him toward the attached ensuite bathroom. He was quick to move, following her instructions. “I have a long afternoon ahead of me, yammering on about the goddamn greenhouse plans - so unfortunately I can’t just leave the two of you alone in here.” 

“You ruined my shirt,” You whined, moving to pick up your pants and looking at the pile of shredded fabric that had once been your shirt with sad eyes. 

“I’ll get you a new one.” Maggie replied easily. 

When you moved to walk around her, going to use the bathroom to clean the (vast amount of) cum off you, Maggie put a hand in the middle of your still very sweaty chest, stopping you. 

“Don’t think you’re off the hook just cause I have things to attend to.” She said, locking you in that firm gaze once again. 

You caught Glenn’s eye behind her shoulder, and he held in laughter. He genuinely wondered what you had done earlier that day to deserve such a punishment. But he was just glad to be an observer on the sidelines rather than someone at the end of Maggie’s clever lustful wrath. 

… 

For the rest of the day, you received strange looks from everyone who was at Hilltop, trying to go about their day, doing their chores, because you were walking as though you had just gotten off a particularly long, painful horse ride. 

Maybe it was the few extra, vicious strikes to the ass that Maggie had given you when you had complained about the punishment that she was sentencing you to, or maybe it was the punishment itself. That punishment being - stuffing a large plug inside if you in an attempt to keep Glenn’s cum in, and not letting you wash up so that you wouldn’t waste a single drop, wouldn’t wash any of his precious spend down the drain. 

But with the gape that his wide cock had left you in, that small plug wasn’t quite enough to keep bits of his cum from spilling out of you whenever you moved, so along with your dirty thighs and matted pubic hair, every single time you moved, you felt your underwear and jeans becoming more and more soiled with the evidence of what the three of you had done. 

And to the most careful, watchful eye (that being Glenn’s of course - he tried his best to busy himself with his chores, willing his tired, aching cock to stay down, because he feared that it just might fall off if he got hard again that day) - the seam of your jeans where it was pressing up against your cunt was just a bit darker, the fabric actively wet and stuck to you, soaked from his cum leaking out of you and likely from how turned on you still were from the whole thing. 

Glenn had to force himself to focus on his assigned chores, because if he didn’t - he just might have pulled you aside into the trees and tried again to fuck another baby into you. After all, it was what Maggie wanted. And she always got what she wanted in the end.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot and there will not be a 'Part 2' or a continuation. If you are going to comment on this fic, please comment on the body of work that has been written, rather than asking for a continuation.

If you like this dynamic, feel free to come to my inbox and tell me that you liked this fic for that reason, and I will likely write more with this pairing (the Maggie x Reader x Glenn pairing). But I will not be continuing this fic directly. You can also check out my other Gleggie x Reader fic Hold Me Tight Or Don't, or you can check out my other TWD fics by going through my Walking Dead Masterlist. Happy reading, and I hope you have a great day!

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ I Like It Long

➳ Summary: While out on a run, you and Michonne start lightly teasing Daryl for having his hair grown out. But there's a hidden reason as to why he won't cut it. (Daryl x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Alexandria, post Savior war

➳ Word count: 1.4k

➳ C/W: Just smut n hair pulling

➳ A/N: This spawned from me writing the context plot of another fic and I was like… wait (And thank yall for the attention on that Mother's Day post??? Yall are so sweet 😭🫶)

My hair is really similar to Daryl's when it's partially or almost dry and it's actually my favorite thing about myself like xbsosjdjdneisnsiasjebeiisjabajissn

You loudly banged your forearm against the glass door of a long abandoned drug store, not hearing any noise inside. Vines and weeds had grown through cracks in the concrete, winding up the sides of the building.

“Sounds pretty clear,” You shrugged, holstering your bow and opting for hand-held blades as Michonne pulled open the handle. You, her, and Daryl were clearing through a nearby town while out on a supply run, opting to make quick work of the task in favor of getting home.

You three entered the building, keeping your guard up in case of any straggling walkers that weren't roused by the initial attempts to lure them towards you. The interior wasn't large, so you could comfortably split off from each other and still be close.

“Seems mostly ransacked. Not much left,” Michonne commented, katana lowered but out in front of her. This had begun to grow repetitive and boring, energy matching the grayness of the lighting.

She took a pair of hair cutting shears off the shelf in front of her, holding them up to your gaze a few isles over. “Think he could use these?” She asked as a smile played the edges of her mouth, nodding back towards Daryl, looking for mischief. His hair had grown quite long over the course of the last two years, the tawny blond darkening into a rich brown, accompanied by a shaggy cut.

“Oh definitely. Jus’ gotta determine which onna us can hold him down long enough to cut it,” You replied with a chuckle, eyes following hers to where the archer stood at the endcap of another lane.

“Shuddup, will ya?” Daryl scoffed, shaking his head with grunt. His gaze didn't break from the advertisement in front of him, trying to ignore your antics. “Ts'fine.”

“Gotta make use of whatever supplies we find, no?” You continued your teasing, trying to hide the grin on your face at his reaction. “You were sweatin’ like a pig all summer, hair tangled all over yer face ‘n what not. When was the last time you cut it?”

“Don’ kno’, don’ care,” He grumbled, and you eyed Michonne again. It's definitely been since the prison, at least. He moved on from the stand. “Plus, winter up ‘ere's gon be colder. Will keep me warm.”

“Daryl, you're ‘bout the only one who didn't freshen up since we got to Alexandria. Don't you at least want a trim?” Michonne pestered, raising her eyebrows at him and shifting her weight to one leg. “You remember Rick's whole hobo-beard.”

“Ain't got no ‘hobo-beard’.”

“But you do look like the only ‘scissors’ you know is the recently searched on your go to porn site,” Michonne chaffed, barely able to contain herself.

Daryl froze for just a second, face flushing as his head whipped to stare back at her. And you two burst out laughing, to which his expression soured.

“Give it up, alrigh’?! Ain't nothin’ wrong with mah hair!” He snapped, accent thick with embarrassment, bowing his head slightly in an effort to obscure it. He readjusted his hold on his crossbow. “Gon shoot tha botha ya.”

“Ay, ay! Jus’ sayin’. Rick scrapped the beard and… maybe you'll finally get some play too,” She winked, followed by a lighthearted snicker.

Daryl groaned again and rolled his eyes, beginning to walk off, but caught your gaze for just a second.

It's not that he didn't want to cut his hair - he didn't care about it – but he wasn't really allowed to either way. There was one major, sexy, moaning reason he didn't cut his hair.

❥-》》—————➣

“Oh, god, Daryl! Fuck! Don't stop… god don't stop,” You cried out, hands clutching his shoulders as your nails began to dig into his flesh. His grip on your hips was bruising, keeping you steady as he pounded up into you at a relentless pace. That grip was the sole thing grounding you in the reality of the present moment.

“Ain't gon stop,” He affirmed, voice gravelly. You moaned wildly, head weakly falling to his chest with exacerbated breaths, his own heaving against your temple. He leaned closer when he could, harshly sucking at your clavicle and boobs, leaving behind a litter of hickeys and little bites that colored you in reds and purples.

The springs of the bed beneath you sounded like they were gonna fold in on themselves, headboard sporadically banging against the wall as Daryl shifted down a little to hit into you at an angle, your clit brushing against him with each thrust. Your back arched overtop of him, shoving his dick into your belly.

“Baby, please… fhuuuckkkk.” You couldn't even think, every thought consumed by the feeling of him. The way he just destroyed you like it's an art he'd mastered, tip brushing against every sweet and sensitive spot inside you, walls desperately trying to cling on, balls hitting up against you, clit grinding on him, slickness coating his pelvis and your inner thighs, his clutch on you just so fucking strong.

You pulled yourself together, lifting your head to see him. His long hair was dark and dampened with sweat, matting up as it stuck to his forehead, obscuring part of his vision. But he was too focused on using you to fix it, didn't dare to remove his hands unless God willed him to.

You moved up, swiping it away, and his blue eyes instantly connected with yours, pupils blown with lust. He (somehow) sped up, starting to slam your hips up and down to meet him instead of just keeping them stationary, now just beating your cunt.

“Tha's it girl. Jus’ keep takin’ me good like tha’.”

His words made you shiver, and you partially fell forward again, nestling your face beside his and snaking an arm behind his head. Your fingers weaved through his messy hair, tangling at the scalp, then tugging harshly as another wave of pleasure ripped through you.

And he whined. There it is. His breathy gasps and grunts mingled with strained whines, and whimpers, as you pulled tighter and tighter at the roots of his locks. His face contorted, eyes nearly squeezing shut, that one vein bulging from his neck, directly on the verge of so much.

“Daryl… inside.., Dar-” You panted, cut off as everything went white and you hit your peak. Your whole body felt electrified, tensing, twitching, walls spasming, toes curling and claws clinging to his frame.

Daryl tipped over the edge almost immediately after, having just been waiting for you to cum first. He desperately pumped into you a few more times, before curving up once more and simultaneously ramming you down as he came deep in you, the warmth of his release spreading through your core, and he threw his head back with ragged breaths.

You were both left a sweaty mess, gasping for oxygen, feeling full and satisfied. Your muscles couldn't keep you up, and you collapsed onto him, loosening your hold at his scalp, his hold on your hips doing the same.

He recovered a bit quicker than you, bringing a hand up and brushing your own messy hair away the second he had the energy to do so.

“Ya alrigh’, sunshine?” He asked between hitches, hoping he hadn't been too rough. He soothingly rubbed his palm over the curve of your body where bruises were sure to form.

You nodded faintly, moving your head so you could breathe better, and you could feel him relax beneath you from the reassurance. He held you tenderly for a while, giving you time to regain your composure. Your eyes were closed in bliss. Few things beat the feeling of Daryl under you, rising and falling with his torso, hearing his low humming as he steadied himself – his softening cock still buried deep inside you, cum ever so surely beginning to dribble down.

You lazily remained in his arms, not wanting to deal with getting up, or the shower you two definitely needed. You took a strand of his hair, affectionately curling it around your finger like a tendril, then letting it go and repeating.

“Ya actually want me tah cut ma hair?” He eventually asked, thinking back to your light mocking from earlier, how you'd laughed as Michonne layered it on. It didn't matter much to him, he'd do whatever pleased you.

“Fuck no. Was just messin’ with you, Dixon,” You replied, kissing the skin of his collarbone right below you, and moving up to find his lips. “You know I like it long.”

The long hair suited him, he looked good with it. You loved to wash and play with it, brush and braid it while he laid in your lap. But mainly, it was easy to grab at, pull on – and close to nothing in existence sounded better than those whines and whimpers every time you did so.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut: Teasing will get you Somewhere

Gif found on Pinterest unknown credit

Warnings/Mentions: Blue balls, Dark/Rough!Daryl, sexual teasing (Daryl receiving) rough sex, spitting, choking, manhandling, biting, blood blisters, spanking, bruising, it might smell like dubcon but it's not

Summary: Reader wants to see Daryl at his breaking point, teasing and depriving him of release until he gets there. 

Notes: I loved writing this so much. While trying to think of a plot for dark!Daryl I remembered this idea/prompt someone had like 5 years ago where the reader teases a guy until he cracks and just goes crazy. I think it was a fanfiction, but I looked through my bookmarks and ao3 history and couldn't find anything like this so if you know what I'm talking about please let me know!!

All you wanted from the start was to see Daryl snap. He was such an aggressive loudmouthed man, but not in the way you wanted him to be. 

He'd started flirting with you to appease Merle, the man who'd instantly noticed how you swooned around Daryl. The younger Dixon didn't believe him, of course, but he approached you to avoid the harsh blows of Merle calling him a ‘belly-up pussy’ along with more distasteful slurs. 

His way of “flirting” was a lot like Merles at first. Offensive, inappropriate, you know the rest. You'd been patient enough to politely explain that you weren't like the type of women that would fuck Merle after he called them a 'sweet piece of Georgian ass', and he took the hint. 

Daryl was shockingly sweet after that. He was less verbal after learning vulgar compliments weren't the way to go, but it turned out alright for you in the end. He began looking after you like you were his full responsibility. Making sure you were fed first, bringing home clothes specifically for you, along with any other treats he thought you might like. 

It was great, aside from him never making a move on you. He gawked like you were an alien when you started dressing for his gaze, Bobby Brooks shorts, pretty tank tops, even shaving your legs once in a while. But he never made a move. 

That simply wouldn't do. 

It was late one night and you'd slipped into his tent. 

“The hell you doin'?” He cursed, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you zipped up the flap behind you. 

“Can't sleep, Carl won't stop coughing.” 

You'd been sharing a tent with Lori and Carl ever since you arrived with T-Dog. It wasn't a complete lie, Carl was coughing up a storm, sick with some chest cold, but that wasn't the reason for your lack of sleep.

“I got some earplugs.” He sat up and began shifting through his bags. 

“No, it's okay. Can I crash here tonight?” You asked innocently, kicking off your casual flip flops that you saved for night time piss breaks or trips to get water. 

Daryl tried hiding his surprise . The stutter in his voice gave him away. “Uh, sure, I guess. S’long as ya dun snore.”

You behaved for an impressive amount of time. Lying in silence, not moving an inch, waiting for him to loosen up before quietly shifting backwards until your back was pressed up against his chest. 

His heart felt seconds away from collapsing in on itself when he felt you. He'd popped a semi when you'd taken off that big T-shirt he'd given you, and now it was bordering on a full on erection.

You waited until you felt his body relax, which took longer than you originally estimated, and then wiggled your hips. 

The reaction was immediate. He sucked in a breath through his nose and made this choking sound. He grabbed your hips, only for a split second before yanking his hands away like he'd been burned. 

You wiggled again, pushing back until the feeling of the outline of his dick against your ass was ingrained into your memory. 

It didn't take long to wear him down, not at all. He let out a strangled groan and rocked into you, his self restraint long since thrown out the window.

And then you stopped.

He nearly gasped at the loss of friction. The feeling was so devastating that it sobered him, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

“Wha-” he panted. His fingers loosened their hold on your hips and twitched against the fabric of your pajama shorts. “Why'd ya stah- stop?”

“I'm sleepy.” You said plainly, pulling the thin sheet up to your shoulders in emphasis. 

Daryl caught his breath behind you, struggling to make sense of it all through his confusion and disappointment. He grumbled something that sounded like it held an attitude, though sadly that was the extent of his protests. 

You needed more. You needed him to tear your clothes off and ravish you like the animal you knew he was. The Daryl that feverishly humped you like his life depended on it was cute, but you needed the Daryl that he was in his daily life. 

The only way you could think of was to force it out of him, even if it did torture the poor man in the process. 

You kept up the innocent teasing for a while. You took a break after Merle went missing, you knew your limits and his. You weren't a total selfish piece of shit. Only when you arrived at the farm and he began talking to you again did you resume your game of “teasing Daryl until he cracks”.

“How's it look?” You gave a cheeky smile as you turned in a circle with your hands on your hips. 

You'd put on the pair of green cargo shorts he'd found you. They weren't very practical, holding only four pockets, which was less than normal cargo shorts, but they were scandalous. The fabric hugged your ass tight enough to look damn near pornographic. 

“Didn't realize they were that tiny. Christ.” Daryl muttered with pink cheeks. “Jus’ give ‘em ta Beth. 

“Oh god. Can you imagine her face? That girl is still wearing pants in late summer. Her daddy would kill me.” You snorted and turned back to face him. “I'm keeping these bad boys. The fabric is soft. Wanna feel?” 

“Already felt em when I took em.” Despite his words, he set down his knife to free up his hands. 

“Give me your hand.” 

The poor boy was so eager to feel you that he practically threw his hands in yours. When you placed his palms on the sides of your shorts he seemed to snap to life, dropping the nonchalant attitude to rub his thumbs over the fabric covering your hips and thighs. 

You tried to keep the smug smirk off your face, and failed miserably. He was turning himself on just by touching the clothing that covered your pelvis. 

Suddenly, you pulled away, feeling your heart lurch in your chest at the way his face dropped.

“Thanks again. I've been needing new shorts.” 

“Yeah. Uh-huh. S'nothin.”

It went on like that for a while. 

One night you climbed into his tent again with the ruse of being cold, and he didn't mention the fact it was a warm seventy degrees that night. You were wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties, and made sure to make Daryl aware of this when you slid your knee over his thigh. 

Nothing happened that night either, nothing other than pretending to sleep while he palmed himself through his jeans. 

Another time you put on those green cargo shorts and offered to tidy up his camp, an offer he was quick to accept just so he could watch you needlessly bend over to grab random objects to place somewhere else. 

Once you even made out with him. Late at night in his tent, things got hot and heavy and you straddled him, wearing the same oversized T-shirt and panties, washed since then, of course. 

He was nervous at first, you could tell by the way his hands trembled on their way up your sides. You kissed him slow and sweet, nothing too extreme, not until he pushed his hot tongue against your lips. 

You let him in and groaned at the enthusiasm he showed. He kissed you like you were still teenagers, up in the loft of some barn hiding away from Daddy. 

“Shit.” He panted against your lips. He moved his hands down to your waist and pulled you down hard, groaning when he got that first taste of friction he so desperately craved.

“Slow down.” You breathed. Your body betrayed your words, your hips rolling down gentle and slow, just enough to feel the outline of his aching cock through your clothing. 

“Why?” He muttered before pressing another kiss against your lips. “Wha's stoppin’ ya? I got condoms. Glenn's got the pill. S'fine.” 

You pulled up and away from his lips. He looked so pretty beneath you all desperate like that. It still wasn't what you wanted. 

“I don't know, Daryl-” Your voice choked into a whine when he moved under you, the friction momentarily rendering you speechless. 

“Can't ya feel what yer doin’ to me? Huh?” He snapped his hips again, forcing out another whine. “S’all for you. C'mon now.”

“Not here Daryl.” You tried to keep your voice level and firm. “Not in some tent where we have to be quick and quiet.” 

“Le’s go somewhere then. Anywhere ya want, don't care. Tell me. I'll take ya.” 

Truthfully, that almost made you give in. But it still wasn't the Daryl you wanted to experience. He was desperate, but not desperate enough. 

“Not tonight, Daryl. It's too late and Shane's on watch. He'll have my ass if he catches us sneaking out.” 

Daryl growled in frustration, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Won't get caught.”

“Yeah, sure. Let's just wait another night.” You pressed a kiss against his cheek, innocent enough, contrasting painfully with the way you ground down against him one last time before sliding off.

Part of you started doubting your plan. Daryl was too reluctant, too full of self doubt, too terrified at the aspect of losing whatever fun thing you had going on by pushing your limits. Even though you had no problem pushing his. 

His patience amazed you. Any other man would've thrown you to the side after the first few times, or ignored your “wishes” and dove right in. He didn't know that's what you wanted. You couldn't blame him. 

How could you tell someone like Daryl “I want you to fuck me with enough desire and aggression to give a nun a heart attack”? He'd been too gentle during foreplay, too submissive, you were beginning to think he was a virgin. 

Maggie gave you a dress. You didn't know who it once belonged to, her or her sister, but it was one of the cutest things you'd ever laid eyes on. A pretty moss green that went right below your knees, laces up your stomach the same color as the dress, and thankfully, no sleeves. 

The domestic look had Daryl in shambles. You looked like a farm wife from a damn magazine, it took everything he had in him not to fuck you behind the barn like he wanted. 

He took you out that day. On a ‘food supply run’, as he called it. You weren't anyone's first pick for runs, which you understood, you were easily distracted. It was your biggest fault.

So when he asked you specifically, and you alone, you were barely able to contain your excitement. 

The first place you stopped by was an old farmers corner store to pick up enough food so you didn't come back empty handed. A few canned goods, stale snacks and three cans of soda. 

He left that in the back of the truck when the two of you stopped by a house. A very nice house, to your surprise. 

“Can't believe this place hasn't been trashed.” You commented while rummaging through the kitchen. “No more food, but there's some lighter fluid.”

“Hm.” Daryl grunted. After securing the front door he found you still in the kitchen, chewing on a mouthful of gum. 

You'd shoved about three long sticks in your mouth. “Want some?”

He eyed the gum wrapped in silver paper before taking it from your outstretched hand with a gruff thanks. 

It was hard to focus on, his heart felt like it was in his throat, it was hard to swallow, and his jaw ached from his aggressive chewing. He'd done everything you wanted, got birth control; condoms and plan B. He found this nice house that same morning, almost immediately after seeing you walk outside in that dress. He even cleaned up the master bedroom for you, dusting off the sheets and beating the pillows, opening the windows to air out the room. 

There was no way you could wave him off now.

Oh, but you found a way. It was a talent that needed to be fucking studied. 

You were digging through the dresser in the upstairs bedroom when he approached you. You ignored the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him, pretending to be very interested in the contents of the bottom drawer. 

His hands found your sides. Your skin tingled as he pulled you to your feet and pressed you against the dresser with his palm on your lower back.

He went to kissing the back of your neck. His lips were light and soft, contrasting the anxiety bubbling in his gut. 

“Hmm.” You hummed. He brushed your hair over your right shoulder and went back to kissing your neck, peppering them all the way to the point of your left shoulder. 

“Missed ya'.” He muttered, pushing his hips forward to drive home his point. 

You tried not to laugh with pity at the feeling. He was already hard? Poor thing. 

“We're supposed to be looking for food.” You chided playfully. You shifted your ass and earned a low grunt of appreciation for the friction. 

“Then why’re ya in the bedroom?” He challenged. When you didn't respond he smirked against the skin on your neck. 

His hands didn't wait for permission. He bent his knees so he could grab the bottom of your dress, gathering it in his fists and pulling it up and over your ass. He sighed at the sight, you were wearing the type of panties he'd only ever seen on a clothing rack or behind a screen. Black soft fabric, tight and with lace around the hem, hugging your curves just right. 

“Daryl, come on.” You chuckled, but made no attempt to move. “They're gonna wonder where we went.”

He laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “Don't give a shit. They'll survive.” 

“And what is it you wanna do so bad that's more important than feeding our people, huh?” You mused, placing your palms on the dresser he was pushing you harder up against. 

“Ain't my people.” He quipped and ground into you, dying to make you feel how desperate he was for you. 

You choked back a moan. “You didn't answer my question.” 

“Want ya. Right here.”

“Want me to what?” 

Daryl sighed and released his hold on your dress to grip your waist. “Wanna fuck ya nice an’ good. Make y’feel what y’been missin’.”

You groaned. Your grip on the dresser turned white-knuckled as he pushed against you again. 

“Yeah?” Your breath trembled past your open lips. “What else?”

Daryl pressed himself closer, until his mouth was right at your ear. “Wanna feel what ya’ been keepin’ from me. Taste ya'. Shove my dick in that pretty lil’ mouth n’make ya sorry.” 

His words had an obvious effect on you. Your knees trembled and your breathing was louder, more shallow. 

But he still hadn't cracked. 

The curiosity was eating you alive. You couldn't give in now, not when he was so fucking close. You turned to face him and gave a ghost of a smile, trying your best to look sympathetic.

“Maybe some other time.” 

His eyes widened and his eyebrows scrunched tightly together. His nostrils flared as his pupils darted over your face, looking frantically for the slightest sign telling him it was a joke. He looked hurt, confused, like you just slapped him in the face and called him a slur.

There it is. 

“You-” he choked out, “Y’aint serious?” 

You forced a nod. 

“Why?” The way he raised his voice sent a bolt of pleasure through your core, and you had to fight back a whimper. “Got everythin’ ya needed. Went through the trouble’a findin’ this place, ain't gotta be quiet, ain't gotta worry ‘bout walkers or someone hearin’, the hell else you want from me woman?” 

You couldn't stop yourself from whimpering. You bit your bottom lip and tried to steady your breathing, but when you stole a glance at his face and saw the expression held there your lungs shifted into overdrive. 

He looked so fed up. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” You whispered. 

Daryl sneered in contempt. “The hell can I do ‘bout it? Not gonna beg.”

You swallowed hard. You slowly shook your head, your chest rising and falling dramatically, your body still trapped between his arms, his hands on the dresser behind you. 

“Don't want you to beg.” 

You pressed a hand between his legs and he let out a strangled groan, his elbows swaying as they threatened to give out. You flexed your fingers to massage his length, and pulled away. 

His eyes shot open and just as quick his hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back to his bulge and nearly breaking your fingers in the process of shoving them down the waistband of his jeans. 

After unbuckling his belt he was able to cram your hand down deeper, forcing you to feel him. 

You gasped when your fingertips made contact. You didn't know a dick could get that hard. It felt just as firm as any other extremity. 

“Daryl.” You let out a long sigh as you gave a half assed attempt to pull your hand out. His grip on your wrist tightened. 

“Hmm?” The teasing tone of his hum made your clit throb. 

“We can't-” You didn't get to finish your sentence before he scoffed and picked you up. Like actually picked you up in his arms, bridal style. He threw you on the plush bed where you bounced a few times, and dove into you.

“S’enough.” He muttered. He pulled your dress up over your waist and looped his fingers through the sides of your panties. You thought he'd hesitate, take a look at the expression on your face and back off, but he didn't. He tugged them down your legs and tossed them off the bed in a random location. 

“Ain't some pussy ya’ got on a leash.” His fingers snaked between your legs, beelining for your cunt. He groaned in surprise, his eyes rolling back at the feeling. You were beyond wet at this point, his aggression had your folds like a slip n slide with lube instead of water. 

You bit back a moan. His fingers spread your folds, smearing your wetness around, his thumb pressing down against your clit. 

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your hips instinctively shifted to the side from the overwhelming sensation, but a firm grip on your waist quickly snatched you back. 

“Think y'can do whatever the hell ya’ want, and I'll jus’ sit back an’ let ya’?” He didn't give you time to answer. He pushed a finger inside you, and both of you hissed at the feeling. “Ffuck. Shit ain't like that no more, princess.” 

Any other time you would've snapped at the insult, but his finger digging around inside you had your mind blank. 

“Wha’s wrong? Huh?” He twisted his finger and you cried out. His voice was sickly sweet, something that should've pissed you off but only fueled your arousal. “Got nothin' to say?” His finger curled, a movement that held no thought behind it, though the way you gasped and arched your back had him repeating the action. 

Then he started mocking you. “Oh no, not now, it's not right, I'm not ready!” He scoffed in disgust. “Like ya’ a lot better when ya’aint speakin’.” 

Oh, god. You should be fuming. You should be spitting venom right back at him, but this is everything you'd wanted from him. It was all going according to plan. 

Maybe he knew that, or maybe he didn't. Either way he was behaving just as you'd imagined countless times, rough, mean, cruel and demanding. 

“C'mon, try a little bit.” He growled after leaning down to bite at your open neck. “Go on. Tell me it ain't the time. Tell me.”

You were nothing but a puddle under him. Your hands became too restless and reached up to grab at him, balling your fists in the back of his shirt.

Never in your life had a man treated you like this. No matter how bad you teased and gave subliminal signals. They would either indulge in your teasing, respect your wishes and back off when told to, or kiss and plead until you relented. 

Finally someone was fucking you like you had always wanted. Or, they were about to. 

The knuckle of his thumb had been digging into your clit for a good minute now, and despite how uncomfortable it could feel at times, you came quickly. 

You sucked in a sharp gasp and locked your legs around his waist, trying to pull his finger in deeper, or make his knuckle grind harder. 

Daryl groaned into your neck as you came around his finger. His hips jerked forward and bumped against his hand between your thighs, knocking his digit in deeper. You yelped, not expecting such a sharp sensation during your warm and soft climax. 

He withdrew his finger and you whined. 

“Sh-sh-sh.” You didn't think a hush could sound so condescending. “Got somethin' better. Gonna make you regret not takin’ it sooner.”

You said it before you could stop yourself. “You don't have it in you.” 

His eyes flicked up to your face as he pulled his zipper down, a look on his face that sent chills across your bare legs.

There was slight amusement, slight relief, as if someone finally gave him permission to show off and prove himself. Lips parted into a breathy smirk, tongue peeking between his teeth, and one eyebrow raised. 

Your eyes dropped to his pants when he pulled his cock free. It looked just as you imagined when you'd touched it only minutes ago, standing at full attention against his lower stomach.

You let out a sigh when you saw it reached his navel. 

Daryl leaned down until he was level with your pussy. You heard it before you felt it, the sound of him spitting, and then warm drool dropping right on your sensitive clit.

You squealed in protest, trying to raise yourself on your elbows, but he stopped you with a hand on your chest. With his free hand he smeared his spit over your already soaking folds, even going as far as to push some inside you with his finger. 

“Ew!” You gasped. 

You felt a tingle. Subtle at first, you just assumed it was the salinity of his saliva, and then more prominent. You were close to panicking until you saw the wad of white gum shoot out of his mouth, landing with a smack against the hardwood floor. 

At least you knew the source of the tingling. You swallowed your own gum, the same way you'd completely forgotten about.

The skin around your cunt buzzed when he slapped the tip of his dick on your clit, and you squirmed beneath him. He steadied you with the same hand on your chest. 

“Wait.” You inhaled deeply. He didn't wait though, he just pushed into your clenched hole, ignoring your whines.

“Ssss-shut up.” His voice trembled. He used his free hand to wrap around the base of his dick, holding it straight as he slowly pushed in further. 

“Y-you said you had condoms.” 

Daryl let out a loud groan as he sank into you. His right hand on your chest increased in pressure as more and more of his upper body weight bore down on it, forcing the air from your lungs. 

He was so thick, and it had been years for you. The burn was incredible, in such a pleasurable way that you should've felt ashamed to enjoy. You tried to moan, but nothing came out aside from a strained breath. 

“Ain't nothin' gonna make me feel rubber instead’a this.” He grunted. He rolled his hips forward and finally pulled his hand off your chest to roll the dress up and over your body. 

“F-Fuck.” His whimper was strangled in his throat. Being completely naked under someone who was fully dressed had you clenching around him, earning another whimper from said man. 

“Should feel ‘shamed, keepin' all this from me.” 

You didn't. Not one bit. 

“But I know ya'aint.” 

You furrowed your brows, momentarily stunned by his apparent mind reading abilities. He jerked his hips forward and your face fell slack, your jaw dropping and your eyelids falling shut. 

His thrusts were harsh, but far too slow for you to get anywhere. You grabbed his shirt and used it to pull him down, desperate for more stimulation. 

Daryl happily obliged. His breath was hot on your ear before he took the lobe between his lips, sucking and licking the flesh. You gasped as he bit down on it, and you could sense the smirk on his lips. 

“Daryl?” You breathed, the name breaking on your tongue with another thrust. 

“Jesus.” He groaned, thoroughly annoyed. He released your ear and pulled back to look at you, frustration evident on his face. “What?”

“Thought I was gonna regret it.”

Your words had his upper lip twitching and his eyes widening ever so slightly. 

“Yeah?” He huffed. “S'gonna be like that?”

He rose from your chest, shifting until he was sitting on his boots. His hands grabbed onto your hips and yanked you down on his dick, forcing a cry from your dry throat. It took him a few seconds to position himself, leaning back just a bit, his grip on your hips tight, and then he started fucking you in a ruthless pace. 

It wasn't what you were expecting. Your mouth dropped into a long gape and your eyes shot open as he pounded his pelvis against yours, driving his dick so deep it reached places your fingers never had. 

Each thrust had a gasp burning in your lungs, and those gasps quickly grew to embarrassing moans. Now that you were ashamed of. If you had the ability to stop it you could, but the way he was thrusting into you rendered you utterly unable to control yourself and the sounds you made. 

“Get up.” 

You weren't sure why he even spoke, because he was moving your body by himself before you could process his command. He pulled you to the side of the bed and turned you over on your stomach, bending you over and shoving his dick back inside you so fast you shrieked. 

Your feet flew up behind you, smacking against the back of his thighs. If you could've seen it you would've laughed. 

The new angle was paralyzing. His dick was no longer tilted against the spot under your stomach, the spot that had you a drooling mess seconds ago. Now it smashed against a deeper part of you, a part that had you groaning with each frustration fueled thrust. 

“Fuck.” Daryl groaned, his pace slowing to give momentary reprieve. He wasn't as young as you, and even though he was always out there doing a hundred times more labor intensive activity, he needed a second to catch his breath. 

There was still an itch yet to be scratched. While he regained his bearings you fought to think of a way to say it without actually saying ‘i want you to hurt me and fuck me till I cry’. You'd already humiliated yourself enough. 

When he began picking up the pace again, you reached for the hand beside your head and bit down on his knuckles. Not gently, either. You bit down so hard he could've ripped a tooth out with the way he yanked his hand away.

“The fuck?” His voice was barely below a shout. “Ya’ crazy bitch!” 

There was no retaliation besides a particularly forceful thrust, to your irritation. 

“You baby.” You managed to grunt out. “Barely bit you.” 

“Barley bi-” he scoffed, looking down at the hand he now had splayed across your lower back. There were deep pink imprints from your teeth over his index finger knuckle, and the skin around it turned a bright red. 

You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from its grip on the bed sheets. Your heart hammered quicker than his thrusts when his breath tickled your skin, and then he bit you. In the same spot you bit him.

It wasn't nearly as hard as you bit him, but you still whimpered at the ache. 

“Point stands.” 

Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing. His jaw set and he dropped your wrist. 

The smug smirk you'd been keeping to yourself fell when your hair was suddenly twisted in the fist of his right hand. With just that leverage alone he pulled your upper body up, and his left arm snaked around your torso to keep you flush against his chest. 

He yanked your head to the side. You gasped. 

“This what ya’ wanted, huh sweetheart?” He breathed against your ear and drew back until his dick nearly slipped out before slamming back in.  

“Mmm-oh god yes.” You blurted out between moans. 

“Jus' had to ask.” He managed a chuckle. 

“More.” 

He furrowed his brows, but kept up the slow and deep pace. He couldn't imagine what else he could give you. He was fucking you hard enough to bruise, he was pulling your hair, what, did you want him to start beating you? 

He dipped his head down to bite your shoulder, holding back just enough so that he wouldn't give you an actual wound. 

You have to consider that biting someone with enough force to actually break the skin takes a lot. Skin isn't like the flesh of a fruit. It's tough, and would require chewing to break through. So for him to stop right before that point meant he was biting you so hard you got blood blisters, and the pain was all you could focus on. 

Your wail of genuine pain had him pulling back like he'd been shocked. His thrusts slowed, and through ragged breaths he spoke, “Shit, m'sorry. M'so sorry.” 

“No.” You gasped. Your shoulder felt like it was on fire, and your walls cleaned around him in response. “So good. Feels so good.”

Daryl let out a huff in relief. “Ya’ weird as shit, yanno that?” 

“Mhmm.” You groaned, pressing your ass back tightly against him. “More.” 

He took a deep breath to steady himself and pushed you back down on your stomach. He had to work himself up to it, the idea intimidating. Once his thrusts were back to their former sharp pace he raised a hand in the air. 

You tilted your head to the side so your cheek was pressed against the blanket. When you saw his right hand held up, your heart leapt. You never nodded so quickly. 

Daryl ground his teeth together, glancing down at your ass, your face, and back to your ass again before smacking his hand against it. 

It was barely a love tap. 

You groaned, wiggling your hips and earning a moan from him in response to the feeling on his dick. 

He took the hint and gave another smack, harder, but still not giving that burn or satisfying ‘smack’ sound you wanted.

“Daryl, please.” You whimpered. “Hurt me. I'm not made of glass.” 

You barely got the last word out before he slapped you. Open handed, fingers spread and slightly curved to mold perfectly against your asscheek. You yelped and instinctively tried scooting up the bed, held back by his left hand on your hip. 

It clicked in his head then. No wonder people liked spanking so much. His palm tingled and he could see a faint handprint start to color your skin. And the way you reacted, that sound you made, your body trying to get away from him, it made his dick twitch. 

“Fuck!” You cried out after another hard slap. The pain fully distracted you from the ache in your shoulder, white hot pain spreading across your ass and up your spine. 

“Such a baby.” He meant it to sound patronizing, but he was still too amazed by the new turn on he'd discovered, and the words came out breathless. 

Your whimper bled into another cry as he spanked you again. 

And again. 

Again, again, until you were on the verge of tears, sobs bubbling from your wet lips as you tried to squirm away from him. 

As if you actually wanted to. Which you clearly didn't. You were practically gushing around his dick. 

He rubbed his palm over the deep red skin, barely soothing the blinding burn he'd left behind. “Goddamn.” 

“M'gonna cum.” You were literally drooling. 

He snapped his attention away from your ass and back to you. “Whaddya want, huh?” He quickened his pace once again, jolting forward to press his body against your back. You whimpered at the way he moved, his dick pushing deeper inside you. 

“More, please,” you stuttered, trying desperately to work your hand under your body, which proved to be difficult due to his weight on top of you. 

Daryl noticed and lifted your hips with his hands. He shoved your eager arm out of the way and rubbed your clit with his own fingers, fast and deep in a way he assumed you'd like. 

You moaned under him, arching your back, feeling him slip in further. It was as if he grew another inch every five minutes. Or you grew another inch deeper, and he was staying the same. Either way he was deeper, and it felt immaculate. 

The rise to your climax was slow, but powerful. You were fully prepared to gently tip over the edge and slide down in bliss. 

That was before he slapped your pussy. Then you fell down gasping. 

Daryl held onto your body like you were a wild mustang, trashing and twisting under him in ecstasy. He withdrew his hand and grabbed your hips again, resuming his brutal pace, clamping his teeth down on the back of your neck to keep your bodies anchored together. 

It took a while for you to come down from your high. When you did it was violent, the pure bliss smashed away by burning overstimulation. 

“Fu-uck!” You heaved in deep breaths. “Daryl s’too much, can't, wait!”

“Ever since that night ya’ came in my tent, blue ballin’ me like that,” he growled against your neck, “-been dreamin’ ‘bout havin ya’ like this. Fallin’ apart. Face full’a tears. Ain't stoppin now.” 

He wasn't bluffing. He didn't stop. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, ramming into your abused cunt, only slowing to shift in positions so you were on your back. 

The air felt amazing against your chest. Daryl ripped that feeling away with gnashing teeth, biting your hard nipples and alternating between sucking and pinching.

The house had to be surrounded by walkers by now. There was no way it wasn't, you were crying and moaning like you were getting paid for it. 

“Oh, god.” You wailed as another orgasm built up quicker than ever inside you. “Oh please, fuck, god!”

A jolt of pleasure shot through your core when Daryl's hands wrapped around your throat. 

Now, Daryl was no stranger to strangling someone. He'd choked plenty of people out before.

In fights.

He was unaware there was a different type of choking for pleasure. Instead of squeezing the sides of your throat with his thumb and fingers, he wrapped both hands around your neck and fucking strangled you. 

You squeezed your eyes shut so tight they ached as you came. Your orgasm had started off blinding, overwhelming every inch of your body, but Daryl's crushing grip soon muted the tail end of your climax and filled your ears with a deafening ringing. 

Daryl pulled his teeth off your nipple and panted against your ear. “Lemme cum inside ya’, sweetheart.”

You could barely process what he'd said. You forced your eyes open against the pressure induced burn, trying to find his face, only to see the side of his head. 

“Can't pull out.” He growled and released some of the pressure around your throat. Oxygen and blood flooded your head, leaving you dizzy and with black around the edges of your vision. 

“Can't, m'sorry. Oh, huh-  fuck!” His voice was strained as every muscle in his body tensed up. His hips surged forward, stuffing his dick balls deep to coat the end of your walls in his cum. “Mmm-fuck s’good. So good. Ohhh, Hah-” 

He choked on his moan. He moved his head, replacing his hands around your neck with his mouth, kissing and biting at the tender skin as he spurted ropes of hot cum inside you. 

Your body broiled under his crushing form. Your thighs relaxed from their clamped position, falling off his waist and dropping to the bed beneath you. Your lungs ached and your throat was raw, but your pussy buzzed so intently it felt like you had a vibrator pressed against it. 

“Oh, god.” The tone was full of dread and you forced yourself to focus on Daryl. 

“What?” You croaked. There was a stabbing pain in your neck from Daryl choking you out like you were a man his size. 

“Yer all fucked up.” He whined. He traced his fingers across your throat. “S’bad. Oh fuck.”

“Calm down.” You sat upright after he pulled back enough for you to do so, his dick dragging out against your trembling walls in the process and making you hiss.

“It's okay. I'll just tell em a walker got the jump on me. We've all seen them grab throats. It's fine.” You pressed a kiss to his worried lips. 

“Gonna tell em a walker did that too?” He pointed an exhausted finger at the bite mark on your shoulder, which was now in the early stages of a deep bruise, not to mention the blood blister in the shape of his teeth.

You laughed softly. “Fuck no. I'll just skip the tank tops for a week or two.”

That seemed to settle him enough and he nodded, moving to lay on his back. 

“That was amazing.” You broke the long silence. “Seriously. You're the first man to ever… you know.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at you. “Huh? Y’never…?”

“No! I mean…” you sighed. “Never had a man make me come.”

Now he was at full attention, sitting upright and leaning back on his palms. “Nah, no shit.”

“I'm serious.”

He let out a light scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched you climb off the bed to grab your thrown panties. “Me too.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you stepped into them. “Really? You never…?”

He nodded, going back to biting his cheek. 

“How'd you last so fucking long?”

A cocky grin crept across his lips at the compliment behind your words. He was worried he didn't last long enough. And you just asked him how he held on so long.

“Jerked off like, ten fuckin’ times today.” 

That meant he knew he was going to fuck you today. Heat spread through your core again, despite how worn out you were. You smiled and climbed back on the bed to smother him with kisses. 

“You're so fucking hot.” You mumbled against his lips, which were moving weakly against your own. 

“Says the bitch that wouldn't fuck me.” He chuckled. 

“Just wanted you to make the decision for me. It's a lot hotter that way.” You hummed, pulling your swollen lips away from his. “It worked.” 

“Psh.” He rolled his eyes and began stuffing his soft cock back in his jeans. “Put yer clothes on. Place is probably crawlin' with walkers. Le’s get the hell outta dodge before anymore show up.”

Now that Daryl was in on your little game, you couldn't wait to play again. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

[writella]

Fuckin’ Favorite

Synopsis: Whose the fairest of them all? It’s you. It’s always been you. Negan’s prepared to let each one of his wives know just that tonight.

— or: Oh Lord, does Negan love his fuckin’ favorite wife!

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, smut— fingering, thigh riding, and penetration without protection; reader at the Sanctuary, “wife”!reader, guilty!reader because when am I not feeling guilty for wanting Negan, Negan being rude in one small part, I’m pretty sure I changed the layout of the wives quarters from the show, and a fuck load of ‘fucks’ from Negan. Mostly proofread. wc: 2.2k.

A/N: I mostly get right to it, so buckle up! And if you like this one, check out this daydream I wrote because I think it’s really cute.

—with love from writella ♡

He comes in without a knock.

The door, though brittle as it is, slams shut. The metal and leather of his jacket clink and slap as his back pounds against it. He has no care that he could break the door, or for the noise and late hour of his arrival.

This was his house. His rules.

“Good evenin’, sweetheart.”

If it wasn’t for that slight twang in his accent, or that wiley look that punctuates the end of his sentences, making everything he says just as comical as unsettling, it would have sounded more like a, Hello, Clarice— nonetheless, you still hold your breath.

“It’s half past ten,” you decide to say, looking down, making sure you don’t sound too sarcastic or displeased with his appearance. It’s just that you hated it when he came to your room, especially when all the other girls were right outside in the common room or in their bedrooms that neighbored yours. You much rather go to his room if you have to. It’s quiet and separate from the rest of the habitants of the Sanctuary. He could be as loud as he wanted— even though he always was anyway— but that would mostly be for you— so you didn’t have to feel so ashamed.

“Well would you prefer a Hey, sexy. Strip down. Ass up. then? Just get right to it?” You say nothing. “Cause I could.” Negan tilts his head sideways with a slight grin, his forehead protruding forward as he tries to find your eyes. All he sees is cheeks starting to flush, an embarrassed shake of your head, and eyes that stay stuck on your black ballerina flats.

You were sitting on the rear of your bed, only looking up sometimes. Recently, you were trying to get better with eye contact. You wanted to show that you’re not afraid of him anymore. It was supposed to be a silent statement that he wasn’t fooling you and that you weren’t softening up to him. That you know what this is, who he is; you’re cognizant of what he does to you, to the others girls, to people outside these walls. But, this didn’t work. No matter if you were looking down or up, you could never seem to get rid of that deer in the headlights look— The Roadkill Stare or The Corpse’s Bride as Negan called it— wide and bewildered, like he was going to run you over. Sometimes it made him feel sad. That there were moments where he could see you trying to resist your natural instinct to flinch when he comes near. But other times, it made him feel powerful. Not the fact that he scared you, but that he could see what was underneath it— that you were scared of yourself. He knows you like him. He knows from the way your face slightly twists as you suppress your snickers and smiles at his jokes when you two are alone, or when he makes fun of Simon for yet another one of his bad attempts at acting like him; when you think you’re doing well at maintaining that timid Tim Burton eyed version of a poker face. He knows you’re not completely scared of him, at least not anymore. Little by little, he’s learning to clock the nuances of your expressions: he sees how your eyes trail his body when he undresses in front of you, or the way you follow him as he walks to talk to this person or that, how you’re acutely aware of when and how he moves, your eyes flickering towards his hands before he gestures with them. It’s like you know too. As if you see his underneath the way he can for you. You’re becoming as familiar as he is.

He’s aware.

You can’t fool him any longer.

“Get up for me.” It’s a soft command said in his darkened voice. On instinct, you oblige. This is how it is. He walks closer, his fingertips lightly brushing slowly down your shoulder until he reaches your waist. He grabs you quick and close on both sides, pulling you straight against him. You gasp, arms swinging back slightly, back arching against him as he presses you on his lower abdomen and groin. You can feel his breath, and the heat of his intense gaze. “Kiss me.”

Your mouth is agape. Your breath shudders. You’re frozen.

You do nothing.

There you go again, his little fawn bride. If eyes could be any more rounder, symmetrical spheres, they’re yours. He could laugh but he doesn’t. He only repeats himself. Quietly, sternly, “You kiss me first this time.”

You had never done that before.

“Do I gotta say it a third?”

You shake your head. No.

Hesitantly, you reach up, touching his face with ghostlike fingertips, feeling the bristles of his beard as you bring yourself closer. Your lips are light and tentative as you finally press yours on his. For him, it was like being kissed by an angel. It makes him soften up for a moment, tilt your head up higher for you to give you more leverage. He kisses you just as sweetly. His thumb strokes your jaw.

After a few more kisses, you pull back to look at him. You hold his shoulders and he holds you by your waist. Your faces are so close, his eyes could almost be as wide as yours, and for a moment, it all feels so soft and dream-like. But quickly, the iridescence fades: before you realize it, he puts his tongue in your mouth forcefully, making your head roll back. The unexpected shift makes you gasp into his mouth.

He turns you around, slams you again your door. Your tall bureau near it bangs against the wall with you. Some of your folded clothes you had yet to put away and jewelry falls off the top as your head bounces.

Negan’s left hand runs down your body, sliding two fingers down under your dress and over your panties, pressing in at your slit. He finds wetness forming. His fingers make it more pronounced as he creates a wet spot.

“Tell me you want me,” he says as he starts to rub your clit.

You take a shaky breath inwards, covering a small moan.

Negan’s fingers slide inside your underwear and down right into your hole. He pumps slowly three times, never losing eye contact with you and then he takes them out. “Cause I want you,” and he proves it by putting the two fingers in his mouth and licking them clean, wiping his lips afterwards with his tongue. “Tell me you do too.”

Your breath remains heavy. Finally, you whisper, “I want you.”

He spins you around again. His back against the door once more, producing another slam you know all the girls will hear. He raises one of his legs and slots his thigh in between yours. His hands rest on your hips, rocking you against him. It feels good. Your thin cotton panties and bare thighs brushing and rocking against his that are rough and denim clad. You try to resist the urge to make any sounds because of how much you like it. “Tell me you need me.”

This makes you whine. “Can we—” you start to ask— and you can’t believe you’re even going to say it— “Can we just go to your room? Please?” Oh God, what would everyone at Alexandria think? They’d be so disappointed. They’d hate you. The wives have never been mean, they accepted you, understood your condition more than anyone else, but where you only had very educated guesses of what everyone at home would think of you, you had a stone hard fact of how the other girls were starting to see you. Their eyes could not lie as much as yours: you felt women’s growing glares of silent resentment whenever you were seen with Negan. He was more forgiving with you; never got too nasty about your habit of not speaking when you’re spoke to; he was gentle with his touch when others were watching; never made you hang out with any of the other men if you didn’t want to; and he talked to you, communicated more. They saw it. They knew it. They figured you were more in the know about things outside the Sancutary than they were. You tried to use it to keep them informed as well, as a way to preserve what little favor you had left, but now look at you, ruining it all as they’re forced to listen. Not only submitting to whatever he may do to you, but asking to change the location before it begins.

“No. You get me here or not at all.” You knew he wasn’t lying. His voice was stern. He looked you in the eye even if you weren’t looking back, you felt it. It told you that he wouldn’t budge, not even a little. “And you can sleep in those panties if that’s the case.”

You stay silent for a moment. Eyes peering into his wishing just your look could say it all. “Negan…” you whisper.

“Yes, baby?”

“I- I need you.”

In an instant, Negan pushes you off of him. His hands go to the ends of your dress and pull it off of you with your arms and hair flying.

“Take it off,” he demands after he throws you down on your bed.

You feet kick off your flats and you raise your hips to discard your panties, never losing sight of him as he rips off his jacket, unbuckles his belt, and crosses his arms to get rid of his shirt. You loved the look of his years-faded tattoos against his tan skin and the curves of his light muscles when he raises his arms.

You’re in a trance, not seeing that he sees that you’re doing it again. Bambi eyes trailing him down. It’s every time you guys do this. And fuck, you must think he’s sexy. He loves it. Because he knows he’s fucking sexy. He knows that pretty girls like you will always come around. You just can’t help it. His grin is as wide as your eyes because of it.

Negan is hard and he wastes no time. He’s been thinking about claiming you all day. He hooks his hands under your knees as you lay with your back flat on the bed.

Negan lines himself against you and immediately starts to piston himself inside of you, never completely pulling out. Your breast shake as his thrusts keep pushing you back. You felt like you were vibrating.

He is obsessed with this angle. Getting to see your face scrunch and twist and contort. Getting to hear your heavy pants and sighs. Getting to feel the squeeze of your pussy and he continues to push inside you fast, fast, fast.

And he’s mesmerized by your breast. The continuous bounce of your perky tits that were now his. He wants his mouth on them, he wants his dick between them, but for now he’ll just watch them jump and spring— it’s just as sexy to him. He might even have to cancel all of tomorrow's plans just to watch them fly all day like this.

Your head turns to your left side and you catch yourself in your full length mirror— the view is from head to the top of your waist. You see your left tit bouncing along with your head and stomach as Negan keeps pushing into it with no relent. Instantly you moan at the sight. Your hand swings to your face right after, your eyes closing shut.

Negan rips your fingers from off your mouth. “No,” he warns. “I know you like it—” you whine when he says that— “Stop hiding it. Look at yourself or I’ll stop.”

You don’t open them.

He stops.

“You gonna fuckin’ listen?”

Slowly, you ynclose your scrunched eyes, seeing yourself and your parted lips again.

“Good girl.” And then, Negan starts splitting you open again, making you shake. The sudden movement makes you moan, “oh- uh.”

“Tell me you want it.”

You don’t resist anymore. You continue to look at yourself in the mirror as you say, “I want it.”

“Tell me you need it.”

Your head turns to watch where your body connects with his. “Ohmygod, I need it.”

He growls as he follows your gaze, voice strained and rough like he’s going to punch something as he repeats, thrusting faster, “Tell me you fucking need it.”

“I need it.” Then you moan, “Negan, please!” You chant, “Please. Please, Negan, I need it!”

“You need it, baby?” He jeers. “You want me to give it to ya?”

You nod as you whine, tears almost coming out. Your breasts still bounce for him and you love it as much as you hate it. “Yes, Negan.”

“You know what I came in here to do, baby?”

You’re still whining, you're practically incoherent. His little fuck doll. All you can say is his name.

“Look at me when I tell you.”

Your eyes go up to his. Watching him as he continues to pump into you. You see how his body vigorously shakes in unison with yours. His skin and his pushing up and down, in and out, as he makes your body jump.

“I came in here,” he starts, losing his breath and trying not to falter from his thrusts as his face places itself above yours, “To show every single bitch in the goddamn house that you’re mine. And that you’re the only fuckin’ one.” You respond with only sex-filled sounds. You’re close to exploding. Your body still jumps along with his. Your bouncing breasts rubbing against his pex as he commands, “Tell me you want me to do it. You want me to make you come.”

As always, though this time it was because you were on the verge of losing all control, you give no answer.

His words bite at your parted lips as he repeats, “Tell me!” And he slaps the side of your ass.

The pang forces you to speak: “I want you to do it Negan please!”

Negan rises. His mouth circles as he moans. He holds your hips now, raising them off the bed as he pumps into your harder. “Say it again.”

“Do it, Negan, please. Please make me come.” With each word ending in moaning pants as you repeats, “Please- Please- Please- Please- Please-”

“Oh fuck,” his gutteral voice rasps and roars for all to hear. Your absolute submission brings him closer to the edge. He smiles widely knowing he’s about to come so hard in that tiny pussy of yours. “OH FUCKIN LORD,” he laughs, knowing he has the whole floor’s attention, not caring a single bit how any of it sounds. “GOD DAMN. THAT’S FUCKIN RIGHT. IM GONNA MAKE MY PRETTY LITTLE FUCKIN WIFE FUCKIN COME BECAUSE SHE’S- MY FUCKIN’- FAVORITE.”

[janiehellion]

Healing Touch

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: When Daryl Dixon is injured and stuck in bed, he’s not exactly thrilled about the idea of being pampered by the group. But you? You’re more than ready to take care of him—and show him just what it means to be a good boy. Think Daryl Dixon’s all rough and tough? Think again...

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HANDJOB / TEASING / EDGING / ORGASM DENIAL

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.033

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S2E05—ᴄʜᴜᴘᴀᴄᴀʙʀᴀ & S2E06—ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, the Georgia sun burning down on you as you walked over to Maggie and Glenn outside of the house on Hershel's farm.

Every so often, you'd look towards the cars where a few others in the group were working, trying to make the most of the now limited supplies you all had left at the moment.

"I got a lot of corn here," Maggie said, holding up a can. "Maybe we can make some soup tonight. What do you think?"

Glenn laughed, "Soup sounds fine, I think. As long as we don’t have to eat beans again. I think I’m starting to sprout beans myself."

"Hey Maggie," you shouted over to her. "How’s everything going so far? You two need any help?"

Maggie gave you a small, but rather distracted, smile. "It’s been a quiet run, so we’re okay. We just came back a few minutes ago with some new supplies."

You nodded. "That's good. Means we won't starve anytime soon. Hey, listen, I heard Daryl’s still inside the house. Do you know how he is feeling? I really hope he is feeling better. Everything that has happened, I just... I don't know. I still can't wrap my head around it."

"Well, dad took care of him, just like he did with Carl, so I wouldn't worry too much about his condition. And if it would've worsened, dad would've told Rick already, that's for sure. But what has happened to him out there, and then the bullet? I don't know him well enough, but I think that he’s too stubborn to admit he even needed help in the first place. And that ear necklace? I'm sorry, but that was beyond creepy."

You remembered… Daryl has been out there, trying to find Sophia again. Of course, it all had to go sideways. You didn't know the details exactly, but you remembered how he had dragged himself back to the farm, looking like he’d been through hell and back. Covered in dirt and blood, and barely conscious.

Then, just when things couldn’t get any worse, Andrea took a shot at him from the roof of the RV. She’d been told to hold off by Rick, Shane, and Dale, but she fired anyway, hitting Daryl in the head, with the bullet grazing his temple.

"I’ll check on him," you now said, putting the supplies aside again. "You're right, he's too stubborn to admit it, but he needs someone to make sure he’s not pushing himself too hard. And if he could, he'd already be out there again."

As you walked towards the farmhouse, you passed by Rick, who was busy organizing and looking through different maps. He looked up at you, giving you a nod. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding rather exhausted. "Are you going to check on Daryl? Or are you going to help Beth and Lori in the kitchen?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. Daryl's been through hell while trying to find Sophia."

"Good idea. He’s definitely been through a lot, that's true. I mean, we all have. But just… be careful with him. You know how Daryl is."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know, Rick. That’s why I’m going to make sure he stays put and tied to the bed. Don't worry."

As you walked into the farmhouse, you could hear a voice coming from the kitchen, where Lori was preparing a meal with Beth together for Daryl and the rest of the group.

"Hello," Lori said and looked at you. "Are you going to see Daryl, or do you want to help us? Rick has been annoying me with me apparently needing help, even though Beth is helping me already."

You nodded, giving her a smile back. "Don't worry, Lori. I want to make sure Daryl's alright, you know, after everything that has happened lately."

She gave you a quick and thankful thumbs up before you continued heading to the room in which Daryl was in, but paused for a moment in front of the door, taking a deep breath. The thought of Daryl lying there, probably still hurt and so vulnerable, made your heart ache. He’d always been so strong, but seeing him in such a state was hard to imagine. And just as you were about to open the door, you heard a voice coming from the inside of the room.

You stopped, listening for a moment before pushing open the door to find Hershel standing by Daryl’s bedside.

"Evening, Hershel," you said as you entered the room, trying to keep your tone neutral despite the knot of nervousness in your stomach.

Hershel looked up, smiling at the sight of you. "Hey there, good to see you. I could use an extra pair of hands."

You moved closer to the bed, where Daryl lay, and Hershel continued, "Daryl’s been in and out of consciousness yesterday most of the time, but I’m hopeful he’ll recover fast if he gets the rest he needs. And if you could help changing the rest of the bandages right now, that would be great."

You nodded, taking a closer look at Daryl. "Sure, I’ll do whatever I can to help. I know he can be stubborn, but he needs to take it easy eventually."

"That’s the spirit. I’ve done what I can for now. He’ll need the rest."

You were still looking at Daryl as Hershel took a few steps back, who now moved slightly at the sound of your voice. His eyes opened just a little bit, and he looked at you with confusion.

"Hey, tough guy," you said. "How are you holding up so far?"

"Just peachy, as always," he answered rather annoyed.

You couldn’t help but smile at his answer. He certainly sounded like the Daryl Dixon that you all knew so far. "Well, I’m here now, so you’d better let me take care of you."

Hershel gave you another nod before finally walking out of the room. "Good, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, like more bandages, don’t hesitate to ask. We still got enough medical supplies left if needed."

"Thanks, Hershel," you replied, watching as he left the room.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the task ahead.

"What’re ya even doin’ here?" Daryl suddenly mumbled. "'M fine. Don’t need no babysittin’ bullshit. Ain't needin' ya 'round here either."

You gave him a smile, trying to hide how annoyed you already were with his usual behavior. "You’re obviously not fine, Daryl. You’ve been through a lot, and you know it. I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like trying to get up and do something you shouldn’t."

He grumbled in frustration, trying to turn away from you. "Yeah… whatever."

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. "Yeah... Too bad, huh? Because right now, that means letting me help you."

"Ain’t nothin’ you can do that Hershel didn’t already do," he mumbled again.

You set down the small medical kit Hershel had brought with him and pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Hershel did his part, sure, but it’s not just about the wounds. You need to rest and relax, and that’s where I come in. Also, taking off the old bandages and putting on new ones isn't that hard, but I doubt that you can do it yourself. And Hershel just left the room, so it's up to me now to change the rest of them. I don't care if you complain about it or not."

You then began to carefully take off the bandages from his side, where the crossbow bolt had pierced itself through. Daryl winced a little, but he didn’t complain so far, his pride keeping him quiet even though you could see how uncomfortable it was for him.

"You know, for someone who’s always acting so tough, you’re a real damn mess right now," you said, trying to break the ice with a bit of humor. "How’d you end up like that anyway? What even happened out there?"

Daryl smirked a bit to himself. "Ya think I’m gonna tell ya a story now? Hell, jus' get it over with."

You shook your head and laughed quietly, focusing on cleaning the wound first. "Hey, I'm not the one that looks like the wrong side of the bed became sentient and beat the ever-loving shit out of you. So you’re going to have to deal with me being the one to help you. It’s either that or I get someone else who’s less careful."

"Less careful?" Daryl asked, and he winced again as you applied antiseptic to the wound. "Sounds to me like yer enjoyin’ this."

You stopped for a moment and looked at him with a teasing smile. "You know what? Maybe I really am enjoying this. Or maybe I just want to make sure you’re not going to cause us any more trouble, even though we all appreciate what you did. Especially Carol."

"Ya think I need ya to look after me? I can handle myself jus' fine," he grumbled and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at you anymore.

You soon finished cleaning the wound and then continued with the fresh bandages. "Oh, I’m sure you can, Dixon. But that’s not even the point. The point is, you’re not in any shape to be running around and playing redneck cowboy."

Daryl moved slightly again, trying to get more comfortable. "Ain't in need to be told twice. Thank ya very much."

You stopped wrapping the bandage around him, waiting for him to get into a more comfortable position. "Stop it with the damn sarcasm, Daryl. For someone who’s always trying to play it cool, you’re really not doing a great job of hiding how much this is bothering you. You do realize that looking weak and needing help are two different things, right? You're far from being weak, and you've done much more for this group than you can probably imagine, even if you're doubting yourself and telling yourself that it's all bullshit in the end." You told him and then continued, putting on the final bandage. "But it's not. And right now, you need to let yourself be looked after, and you need to give us the chance to care about you. Even if it's only for once."

There was a moment of silence, and for a second he looked at you only to look away again, clearly struggling with giving you an honest answer about what he thinks.

You took a deep breath. "Alright, I’m done with the bandages. How about a quick check of your other injuries?"

Daryl nodded quickly, but you could see he was starting to relax a bit. "Yeah, fine. Jus'… make it quick, will ya? Ain't got no time for this bullshit."

You smiled and began checking his other wounds. "So, what’s your actual excuse for not telling us what has happened?"

"Ain't worth tellin’. Jus' 'nother day of me bein’ stupid," he grumbled back as an answer.

Soon enough, you finished checking his other wounds and stood up, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Well, now that I’ve made sure you’re all patched up, try to get some rest. We’re all counting on you to be back on your feet soon; don't forget that."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I’ll try to stay outta trouble while bein' tied to this damn bed."

You smiled and began to pack up the antiseptic and unused bandages, putting them back into the small medical kit. "That’s all I ask for. Get some sleep, Daryl. You know you need it. Something to eat will be ready soon."

As you put away the last of the bandages, you noticed how tense Daryl seemed to be. So you decided to take an extra moment to help him relax, thinking how a little extra care couldn’t hurt.

Your fingers soon massaged his side as you sat down once more, careful not to touch the wound. It was meant to ease the tense muscles around it a bit, but as your hands moved over his skin, you felt that he seemed to react differently when he gasped slightly.

"Ya really don’t have to," he started, but he stopped talking as you continued, your touch slow and feeling soothing.

You looked up, now looking into his eyes. "Why not? You’re all tense. And it’s not just about the injuries; your whole body’s been through a lot. A little extra care might help. There's nothing wrong with it."

He grunted, trying to remain tough, but his breathing grew heavier, betraying his growing discomfort, and you noticed how his body responded to your touch—a reaction he was clearly trying to hide.

His cock began to harden under the sheets. The outline of it was becoming more pronounced, and you could see the rise of the sheets with each breath he took.

You tried to ignore the current awkwardness of the situation, but it was impossible not to notice, and even more impossible not to look at it. Your fingers stopped, and you hesitated momentarily before continuing to massage his side, with Daryl’s eyes squeezed shut and another groan escaping his lips.

"Ugh... Daryl?" You asked quietly, your voice full of curiosity as you realized what was happening. "Are you… okay?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head away from you. "Yeah, jus', jus' let it be. Shit, jus' stop!"

But you couldn’t ignore the evident hardening beneath the sheets anymore. As you moved slightly in your seat to get a little bit closer to him, your hand accidentally brushed against his cock, and Daryl’s reaction was immediate—he sucked in a breath, his body tensing even more.

"Ain’t needin’ ya to… to be all handsy now, goddamn it!" Daryl's voice was trembling, his body shaking a bit, and his muscles straining, even as you didn't continue to massage him. But the sudden power you had over him was intoxicating, and you decided to take your chance and act on it.

You reached down and carefully pulled back the sheets covering his lower body. Daryl’s breathing hitched as you exposed him, and his cock was already hard, pushing against his pants. You could see it clearly now, the visible outline of it.

You smirked at him as you pulled the waistband of his pants down, just enough to pull his cock out and free it from his underwear.

As you pulled it out, Daryl's eyes widened as he watched you handle him. There was no need for words; the look on his face said it all. He felt vulnerable.

You gave him a smile, your hand now wrapped around his throbbing cock. "You look like you're about to lose it, Dixon."

He glared back at you, but there was no real anger in his eyes. "Ain’t fair, ya know…"

You leaned in close to him, your lips touching his ear. "Well, who said life was fair?" Your hand started to move, giving his cock a slow, torturous stroke that had him groaning. "But maybe… if you ask nicely…"

"God… Please," he groaned again, but it was clear he wasn’t used to begging, yet the desperation in his voice was there beyond doubt.

"Good boy," you murmured, and you could see how his eyes slowly closed as he gave in to your touch and words.

You soon picked up the pace, your hand moving faster, his hips bucking into your hand. "Shit, jus' like that," he moaned, his eyes squeezing shut even more tightly.

Fuck… How he wanted it. Your hand working his cock, making him forget about everything that has happened…

You could tell he was close already. His cock twitched in your hand, and the quiet sounds he was making were turning more desperate. "Please," he gasped again. "I… I can’t..."

"Oh? Already, huh?" You teased him, your thumb brushing over the tip of his cock, smearing the pre-cum over it that had gathered there.

You smirked, enjoying the power you had over him. "Do you like this?" You teased him further.

"Yeah, jus' like that…" He panted, his body trembling. "Please... I need ya to touch me more. Can't fuckin' take it..."

"Touch you where, Daryl? Use your words. Be a good boy and tell me exactly what you want."

"My damn dick... please, jus' touch it." You immediately switched your pace back to pump him slowly again, and each stroke of your hand made him shiver, his moans growing a little louder with every touch.

His hips bucked involuntarily, but you kept your rhythm controlled, never speeding up, not letting him get the orgasm he wanted so desperately.

"I thought you were a tough guy. But look at you—so damn needy already. Come on, Daryl," you mumbled. "You’re not done yet. Not until I say so."

He whimpered, trying to thrust into your hand, but you stopped him, keeping him on edge.

"Fuck, please…" He groaned in frustration. "Don’t stop… jus' fuckin' finish me off already!"

You laughed, your grip tightening just enough to torture him a little more. "And why would I do that? You need to learn so much more about patience."

With each stroke, you used different pressure and speed, sometimes going slower just when he thought he was about to finally cum. The feeling was almost unbearable for Daryl, and you could see it in the way his muscles tensed and relaxed again and again, his breathing only coming out in gasps.

"How does it feel, Daryl? Being held on the edge like this?" You asked, looking over at the door to listen if somebody was coming closer.

"Shit, feels so damn good…" He gasped, his voice strained. "I jus' need… I need to… Fuck!"

You smiled, leaning closer to him once more when you were sure that you'd be left alone. "Not yet, tough guy. I want to see just how much you can take."

You continued your teasing, your strokes slow and torturous. "You can take it. I know you can. You want it, don’t you? You want to make me finish you so badly, but you’re going to have to earn it," you whispered.

Daryl could only nod. "Please… Hell, I can't take much more!" 

He couldn't take it anymore. The teasing—it was all too much. He wanted to cum. And he needed you to make him cum. Hell, he loved it. Your hand pumping his cock, teasing him, making him groan with need. The way you toyed with him, bringing him so close only to pull back? Shit, he was losing it… And the way your fingers wrapped around his cock, jerking it just right… It was driving him insane.

You simply grinned, feeling excited because of the power you held over him. "But that's good. Because I want you to remember this. Remember how much you wanted it and how much I made you wait."

His eyes were still squeezed shut, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought against the urge to give in.

With that, you continued to edge him, every touch, every stroke keeping him on the brink, pushing him to the limit of his own control.

And the feeling of sliding your hand back and forth along his thick shaft, the way he groaned and moaned quietly, trying to keep himself quiet just for you—it was everything you wanted...

"Fuck, please," he moaned again, his voice now breaking slightly.

His cock was pulsing in your hand and still leaking pre-cum, and you knew this was the moment he might not be able to hold back any longer. And just when he was about to finally stumble over the edge, you stopped pumping him completely, pulling your hand away from his throbbing cock.

Daryl’s eyes flew open in shock, anger, and need. "What the fuck?" He growled, his voice hoarse. "Why’d ya stop?"

You leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Because I wanted to see you beg for it, Daryl. And you’re not quite there yet."

He glared at you in need, his cheeks red, and sweat started to form on his body. "Ya can’t jus' leave me like this! Please!"

"Oh, but I can," you answered with a smirk. "And I will. Unless you really beg for it."

Daryl closed his mouth, and you could see the muscles in his jaw twitching around as he gritted his teeth, his pride and ego fighting with his desperate need. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow.

"Please, please, let me cum," he whispered and finally started to beg and whimper a little more. "Please! I can't take it anymore. Please…"

God... How much he needed you. Desperately. Your hands, your touch, everything about the way you teased and pumped him, the way you handled him… It was like you knew exactly what he wanted and what he needed, and you were giving it to him for free, if only he would beg for it...

You smiled, satisfied with his response. "That’s better. Now, let’s see how much more you can take."

You went back to your teasing, your hand moving slowly over his cock, feeling him twitch and pulse again with every touch. His moans grew a little louder, even more desperate, as you brought him to the edge again and again, only to stop just before he could finally cum.

By the time you finally decided to give him what he needed, Daryl was nothing more than a trembling and pleading mess, his hips bucking toward you again and again, his eyes now looking desperatly at you.

"Fuck, you’re such a good boy, Daryl," you whispered quietly. "Look at you, trying to keep quiet for me, trying to hold back so hard. Taking it like you should… Don't stop looking at me."

You sped up, your movements rough and fast, giving him no time to adjust to the now quick pace. His body was shaking, and you could feel he was more than ready to snap.

"Yeah, you want to cum so bad, don’t you?" You teased. "Go on, Daryl. Cum for me. Show me how much you need it. How much you want it."

With a choked groan, Daryl's body tensed. His orgasm hit him hard, his cock pulsing in your grip as he came all over your hand. You kept pumping him through it, milking every last drop out of him.

"Oh, you really are a good boy, aren't you?" You mumbled. "Let it all out. You did so well for me."

He collapsed back against the bed, completely spent and exhausted, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

You reached for a towel next to the small medical kit, wiping your hand and cleaning up carefully, making sure not to leave any evidence of what had just happened behind, before you looked down at Daryl, a wide smile on your face.

"Fuck," he panted. "That was… fuck..."

"Told you I’d take care of you," you answered him, giving him a wink.

He opened his eyes, looking at you quite exhausted. "Yeah, ya did…"

He didn’t protest as you cleaned him up; he just watched and stared at you with those intense blue eyes, still catching his breath with his mouth slightly open.

"There," you said, as you were finishing everything up. "All cleaned up again."

Daryl didn’t say anything for now, just giving you a small and a little ashamed nod as you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his sweaty face.

"Get some rest now, tough guy," you whispered, pulling back and standing up. "You’re gonna need it. Remember: Be a good boy for me."

"Yeah… I... I..." He grunted in response, unable to even finish his thoughts after hearing your words, which were still making his head spin.

You simply smirked, heading towards the door. "Anytime, Daryl. Anytime."

As you walked out of the room, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied as well. Daryl Dixon might be tough as hell, but in that moment, he was completely and totally yours.

[thewalkingdilf]

can we all just agree that daryl would definitely love to smoke a cigarette while you ride his thigh.

his sex drive hasn’t always been able to compare to yours, and him being a decent bit older than you definitely doesn’t help, but he could never deny a little angel like you the pleasure that you craved so badly.

so there you were, propping yourself up in his lap excitedly, getting yourself settled in the perfect position on his denim-clad thigh, with help from daryl’s strong arms keeping you steady while you adjusted yourself, of course.

the cigarette not only helped him relax in his own way, just as you were relaxing by making a mess of his strong thigh- it also served as a way for him to stall, to test your patience, a sort of timer if you will.

you’d rut yourself against him, whining and blubbering about how bad you needed him, meanwhile he’d continue to sit back in his chair, gripping your waist with one hand while the other would be raised toward his mouth, taking a long, deep draw from the cigarette, gently blowing the smoke toward you.

occasionally, if he was in an extra good mood that day, he’d flip his cigarette around in his fingers, resting it between your lips for you to take a couple puffs as well. he was typically against you smoking; he didn’t want someone like you falling into such a bad habit like him, but he couldn’t deny how much he loved to see you like that in the moment; fucking yourself against him so desperately while you blow the smoke in his face, the small nicotine buzz making you feel a bit lightheaded and dizzy, adding to your overwhelming pleasure.

“don’t worry baby, i’ll make you feel good, just lemme finish my smoke, yeah? you can be patient and do that for me, can’t ya’?”

“daryl, please.”

“not yet baby, yer being so good f’ me, i know you can wait a lil’ longer.”

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

Part 2

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Daryl Dixon masterlist

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

Part 2

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[mystic-writings]

we’re just fine | daryl dixon

PAIRING — Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

SUMMARY — after the fall of the prison, you find yourself in alexandria, alone. two months later, your family finds their way back to you. 

WARNINGS — angst, canon-typical violence/situations, pregnancy, fluff 

WORD COUNT — 5,000

NOTES — idk what happened to me all i know is i blacked out and then this was made. enjoy i guess

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Despite the pure monotonous routine you’d gotten used to during your two months in Alexandria, you couldn’t say that it wasn’t sometimes extremely boring. Your only saving grace was the mealtimes you had with Aaron and Eric at the end of the day. At least they had the sense and experience outside the walls to be able to carry out a conversation that wasn’t about what food you were eating or how the weather was. 

It was why you hated when they went out on recruitment runs. As their roommate, you felt awkward being in the home by yourself when they left the walls; as though you were intruding. You felt that way in a lot of aspects. An intruder on a perfect life that these people had grown used to in the wake of the apocalypse. A life where their only worry was whether or not Aiden and Nicholas would find the right ingredients for the food they’d planned on cooking during their supply runs. 

But there was nothing to be done aside from making a meal for one, eating alone with only a soft classical music CD to fill the silence, and to wait for the couple to come back home so you would have normal people to talk to. 

You were glad for them and the runs they went on, though. Or they never would’ve found you, and you’d likely be dead in a ditch by now. 

Your hand shook as you gripped the handle of your blade, wide eyes searching the pharmacy for any signs of walkers, or people. Being on the road alone for as long as you had been was making you feel like you’d gone crazy. Maybe you had already. 

Sweeping the small aisles, you found no signs of life. Most of the shelves were already empty, likely having been raided during the early days. Still, you grabbed whatever was available to you, shoving it into your bag before ducking into a corner, knees pressed to your chest as you rooted around for one of the final few cans of food you had left. 

You’d been rationing out what used to be a plentiful supply for a few weeks now. One can of food per day, nothing more. A lot of what you had was thanks to the traffic blockages on the highways and interstates you’d wandered along on your way out of Georgia. What used to be two cans a day for almost three weeks turned into one for the past week and a half, bordering on two. 

The lack of food wasn’t your only issue anymore. With no signs of life from your former group, you had every reason to believe that they were all dead. Logically, you knew they weren’t. You’d seen some of them escape in the firefight, yourself included. But without any real way of tracking them down, they were as good as dead. Not to mention the sudden and constant fatigue that the southern sun seemed to give to you, making traveling more difficult than you had originally planned. 

Even with no end in sight, no real indicator that the man you called your husband was still alive, and no true hope for your future, you still persisted. You found places to sleep for the night, whether in abandoned cars or gas stations off of turnpikes. You found just enough food to supply you for a few more days if you managed to stretch it thin enough, and you kept going. 

Just as you were about to crack open a can of corn, the crunching of glass and shuffling of footsteps alerted you to the body that had just entered the pharmacy. Its footfalls sounded too heavy and spaced out to be anything but a human. 

Gripping onto your knife, you held your breath and gently placed the can on the floor. With your bag still on your shoulders, you kept your body crouched and your ears peeled, moving around the person — no, people — moving around the pharmacy. 

“I’m telling you, we’ve already been here. There’s nothing left to take,” a voice reasoned. 

The footsteps ceased for a moment, and you paused, praying they hadn’t heard you. “I know. Doesn’t hurt to check, though, right? I mean, we can’t exactly go back empty handed. Aiden’ll have something to say about it.”

“But we aren’t out here for supplies,” the other stressed, “we’re out here for people, remember? New members?”

“I know,” their partner chuckled, footsteps resuming as they rounded the last aisle. You ducked between the shelves closest to the door, hoping to just outrun them and not have to fight them. There was a pause, a palpable beat, before he spoke again. “But I think we might not be coming back alone.”

A cold chill ran through your veins at the former’s words. He knew you were in here. He’d seen your can of food, or heard your shuffling around the pharmacy. In an instant, you were at your full height, eyes wide as your fingers clutched your knife tighter and you ran, against your better judgment, toward the pair. The blond was the one closest to you, his back facing your front. With as much energy as you could muster, you hooked your arm over his shoulder, dragging him to your chest as you pressed your knife to his throat. It wasn’t hard enough to do any real damage, but you knew that if you absolutely had to, you’d apply pressure. 

“Who are you?” You spat, hand shaking as it gripped the knife. “What do you want?”

“Woah, woah, calm down. It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.” The brunet immediately jumped into negotiation mode, putting his hands in front of him. The position reminded you of Rick, oddly enough, and your heart twinged as you adjusted your grip on the knife. 

“Then what are you here for?” You spat. “Like you said, there’s nothing worth taking here.”

The faintest of whimpers escaped the lips of the man you held hostage, dragging both yours and the brunet’s attention to him. “We’re just—” the blond gulped. “We’re recruiters. We have a camp not too far from here. A safe one. We’re looking for people to join us. People who have— have experience, out here.” 

His words, as stuttery and fearful as they were, confused you. 

“I’m Aaron,” the brunet said, keeping his arms up in surrender as he slowly slid the backpack from his shoulders. “That man you have is my partner, Eric. Everything he’s saying is right, and I can show you. I have pictures and a brochure in my bag, if you’ll let me get it.” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. Even if he had a weapon, most of your body was blocked by his partner — Eric. There was a highly likely chance that he wouldn’t try to harm you while you kept his friend in your grip, however weak it was becoming. 

Slowly, Aaron reached into his bag, pulling out exactly what he said he would. With Eric still in your grip, he showed you pictures of the place he and his friend called home — Alexandria. “Look,” Aaron sighed, stepping back a bit. “You seem like someone we could use. You have experience that we lack. Plus, it seems like you’ve been out here by yourself a while. We have walls, food, running water, and proper shelter. And if you decide to come with us, our leader, Deanna, will interview you. If she allows you in and you don’t like it, you can leave any time you want. We won’t keep you there if you don’t want to be, okay?”

With a shaking nod, you let go of Eric, nudging him toward Aaron, who enveloped the other man in a tight hug. “I— I can leave if I want to, right?”

“Of course, you can. No one will stop you, and that’s a promise.” 

It took a bit of getting used to, but you were glad that Aaron and Eric had found you that day. You’d been skeptical of things in Alexandria for the first few days, but you warmed to the entire situation a lot easier than you thought you would. You supposed it was because of how things were at the prison, but even then you weren’t alone.

Aaron and Eric, while not pushing the topic often, had managed to get to know enough about you and where you came from before they’d found you that they considered you a close friend. 

You’d only told them the briefest of answers. That you were with a large group in Georgia from the beginning, that you’d been with one of them for most of that time — even, at some point, considering yourselves to be married, though the symbol you’d had to show it had been lost months ago — and then another group came along and took everything away from you, simply because they could. 

The safety and privacy that the couple provided was something you were more than grateful for, even if you were sure you wouldn’t be able to have it forever. 

Because while Aaron and Eric, along with the rest of Alexandria, provided a structure and a sense of normalcy for you, you couldn’t shake the grief that fell upon you every time you were alone. 

The thought of Daryl being out there, combing every inch of Georgia for you while you were so far away, was enough to bring you to tears. It was another thing to think about the possibility of his rotting corpse roaming the woods in search of something living to eat. The thought that you’d never see him again, dead or alive. That you’d just push through life — however much longer that would be for you — without him, even though he promised you’d never have to go through something like that. 

The thought of your baby never knowing who their father was, and their father never knowing who they were, either. 

You could go an entire lifetime without ever seeing Daryl again, and the idea of it nearly killed you when he was still around. It hurt a hundred times worse now that it was practically a reality. 

The night passed without word from or the arrival of Aaron and Eric. It was common for them to be gone a while at a time — this particular trip lasting almost a week — but you hated sleeping in the house by yourself now. You were so used to waking up to Eric clattering dishes in the kitchen that waking up midday when they were gone only proved how fatigued you seemed to feel nowadays. 

Waking up to a knock on the door wasn’t unusual as of late, but it was certainly unpleasant. You were, however, grateful for the fact that when you were given a room at Aaron and Eric’s, it was on the first floor. 

Rolling out of bed got harder and harder with each passing week, but you managed it anyway. The knocking persisted, and you sighed as you made your way into the living room, shouting out, “I’m coming!”

The knocking ceased, and you pulled on the fabric of your shirt before answering the door, only to find Jessie. “Oh, hey,”

“Hi, hon,” she smiled, and you felt bad for being upset at her moments before. “Pete sent me over, said you were supposed to see him this morning?” 

“Oh, shit, Jessie I’m so sorry,” you said, brushing some stray hair from your face. “I overslept, normally Aaron—” 

Jessie smiled warmly, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on your arm. “I understand, Y/n, no need to worry. Just get dressed and head over to the infirmary. It’s not like Pete’s in any real rush.” 

“Alright,” you nodded, bidding Jessie goodbye and closing the door as she headed down the porch steps. 

Padding your way through the home, you went back to your room, pulling on some fresh clothes before freshening up in the bathroom. Routines like these were simple, but they kept you sane. You’d had something a little closer to it at the prison, but it was nowhere near as nice as it was in Alexandria. 

After eating a small breakfast, you were out of the house and on your way to the infirmary. The streets were quiet, as always, and the sun was anything but forgiving. People smiled and waved, and you did the same, even if you didn’t know half of the people in this place. Even after being here for two months, it was hard to remember such trivial things about so many people. Plus, putting names to faces was never one of your strong suits. 

Stepping into the infirmary, you were grateful for the burst of air conditioning that fell over your body. Smiling, you greeted Denise and Pete, the former of the two sitting on one of the beds as she pored over the book in her lap. 

“Alright, let’s take a look at you. Sound good?” Pete smiled, and you nodded back. 

While you hauled yourself onto the bed, Pete readied the ultrasound equipment. Pulling back the loose shirt you wore, your eyes glued themselves to the obvious, albeit still small, bump you were sporting. 

“Hey, I’m about four months along now, right?” You asked, eyes darting up to Pete, who confirmed with a nod. “That means you can see the baby’s gender, doesn’t it? I remember hearing that somewhere,” 

Pete chuckled, powering on the machine and taking the gel from its holster. “Most of the time, yes. If you want me to look around for it, I can do that. After I make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I really wanna know,” you said, wincing at the cold gel making contact with your skin. “It’d mean a lot. Then I can go full nesting mode. And so can Aaron and Eric, really.” 

The ultrasound went off without a hitch. According to Pete, your margins were clear, and everything looked healthy with the baby. It was always a relief to hear. There was little room for error with these things now that you had scarcely little supplies to work with. Finding the ultrasound machine early on in the apocalypse was a miracle in itself. 

“Okay…” Pete hummed, the wand moving and pressing over your skin. “The kid’s giving me a hard time with this one. And…” he pressed a few buttons, eyes focused on the screen before him. You watched his features intensely, as though his expression would give the answer away before he could say it. Pete’s eyes broke from the screen as he smiled, lifting the wand. “You’re having a little girl. Congratulations.” 

Your heart swelled, a wide smile overtaking your features as Pete handed you a towel. “A girl,” you whispered, eyes locked onto your belly. 

Before you were able to stop yourself, you were once more reminded of the likelihood that you’d never be able to share this with Daryl. Tears welled along your waterline as you sat up, swiping the scratchy cloth across your belly. Whether Pete noticed or not, he made no indications. You were thankful for it, and for him leaving the room to put the ultrasound equipment away. 

When he came back inside, he pulled Denise from her books and into the kitchen to talk, but you paid no mind to them. They were talking too low for you to listen in, anyway, and you were too busy trying to quell your emotions on the makeshift examination table to want to eavesdrop. 

By the time you were ready to leave, Olivia entered the infirmary, eyes scanning the room before landing on your frame. 

“Y/n, they’re on their way back,” she smiled, and you nodded gratefully. 

“They’re okay?”

The woman nodded. “Eric’s a bit banged up, hurt his leg I think, but otherwise they’re fine. And they brought a group. They should be getting here soon.” 

Exhaling a relieved breath, you slid from the bed, bidding goodbye to Denise and Pete as you followed Olivia onto the street. You walked side by side in silence, mulling over what she’d said. 

“You said they brought a group?” You asked, following Olivia up the steps to the house that held all of your inventory. “How many?”

Olivia huffed, brows cinching. “Deanna said it was a big one. That they had a lot of weapons, been on the road a while.” 

Your eyes widened. “A while as in the entire time, or?”

“Not sure,” Olivia shook her head. “All I know is I gotta get the weapons cart to the gate, if you wanna help?” 

“Sure. Should probably be there to get Eric to the infirmary, anyway,” you decided. 

And, sure enough, Aaron helping a limping, sweating Eric through the gate was the first — and for now, only — glimpses of the new group you would get. Aaron smiled apologetically as he spotted you, tucked out of view from the newcomers. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You said, looking pointedly at Eric, who grimaced as you took his arm from Aaron. 

“Roamers,” he sighed. “It’s broken, I think.” 

“You think?” You asked, eyeing the bruising flesh. “I can tell it’s broken. Come on, let’s get you to Pete.” 

Aaron thanked you as you wrapped an arm around Eric’s waist, helping him up the road and back into the infirmary. 

As Pete worked to wrap Eric’s ankle, you couldn’t help but ask questions about the trip. 

“It was a disaster,” Eric groaned. “There were roamers everywhere. Plus, this group, they’re headstrong. Been out there a while.” 

“How many of them are there?” You asked. “Olivia didn’t tell me.” 

“Fifteen,” Eric hissed, squirming as Pete positioned his ankle properly. 

Your eyes widened, throat going dry. “Jesus,” you huffed. “That many of them and they’re still going?”

“With a baby,” 

“Oh my God,” you gasped. Your mind flashed with images of baby Judith, heart clenching. The fall of the prison meant that you never found out exactly who made it out alive, and you never dared to venture the thought of whether or not she did. “They must be some lucky sons of bitches.” 

Eric laughed. “Not only are they lucky, but they’re tough. And really close. I think, once you get used to them, you’ll like them. They remind me of you when we found you.” 

“So, scrappy, hungry, and tired?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Eric laughed, and you couldn’t help but do the same. 

“If you need me, I’m four houses down.” Aaron pointed, Rick and Carl following his line of sight. “If I’m not there, Eric or Y/n probably will be.” 

Carl’s eyes snapped back to the brunet, a mixture of confusion and skepticism floating within them. “Y/n?”

Aaron’s brows furrowed at the boy. “Yeah. She’s a friend of ours, came here a few months back. Why?”

“We, uh…” Rick stepped in, a hand scratching at his beard. “We used to know someone named Y/n. that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aaron nodded, stepping away and heading back home, where you and Eric were sitting at the table, sandwiches in hand as you giggled about something he wasn’t aware of. 

Upon his entrance into the kitchen, you stood excitedly and hugged the man. “Glad you’re back okay,” you said, heading back to your chair. “I heard the group you brought was tough.”

“Yeah, they are.” Aaron chuckled, still mulling over the puzzle pieces in his head. “You said you were with a big group before, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Aaron huffed, glancing at his shoes. “I brought up your name to one of the new members — just a name, nothing else — he said they used to know someone with the same name.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, limbs freezing as you were bringing the sandwich to your mouth. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to put the food back down, looking up at Aaron with shining eyes. “This man, what’d you say his name was?”

“Rick. Rick Grimes.” 

If your heart had been fluttering before, it was banging like a drum in your chest now. Your stomach fluttered, your hand coming to rest on the swell of your belly, hoping to quell the anxiousness. 

“Where are they?” You asked, and Aaron’s mouth only remained agape. “Aaron, where are they?”

“Down the street,” he finally said, voice cracking. “The house on the curb, the one you said you liked.” 

Within moments, your food and friends were abandoned as you practically ran from the home, shooting down the porch steps and down the street. You were thankful that no one was out and about right now, or you were sure they’d think you looked crazy. You didn’t even register a person in your path until you’d already bumped into them. 

“Oh! Y/n, are you alright?” Jessie asked, her hands on your shoulders as her eyes searched your wild ones. 

“‘M fine, Jessie.” You muttered. “I’ve gotta go.”

You gave the woman no time to respond before you were wriggling out of her grip and hurrying down the street. Up more steps, you were greeted by the charming yellow door of the home you’d wished you lived in, knuckles rapping frantically and unyielding on the wood. 

The door finally, after what felt like decades, creaked open. Your heart stopped in your chest as you took in the sight of your husband’s best friend, clean shaven and hair dripping from a recent shower. 

Rick’s eyes flooded with tears as they met your own. In seconds, you were pulling him into your arms, grateful that you weren’t the only survivor of the Governor’s wrath. 

You sobbed into his shoulder, gripping tightly to the clean white shirt he wore. “Rick,” you croaked, “is he—” 

“He’s fine,” Rick whispered, heart breaking when your sobs worsened out of pure relief. “He’s just fine.” 

When you finally found the strength to let go, Rick led you inside. “We thought you were dead,”

“There were times I wished I was,” you said, taking a seat at the edge of the couch. “I was by myself for just over a month. Found some train tracks, lost ‘em, then stuck to interstates, mostly. Got lost in the woods, found a small town, and from there, Aaron and Eric found me. I’ve been here for two months.” 

Rick huffed a laugh, disbelief filling the sound. “Sounds like you had one hell of a trek.”

“I had a car, for a bit.” You shrugged. “Walkers ruined that part. I crashed it into a tree. Stuck to walking after that.” 

“When did you…” Rick glanced down at your swelling belly, forcing a laugh from you. 

Shrugging, you smoothed your hand over your belly. “Four-ish months ago. Didn’t find out until I got here. Been terrified ever since, really. Not knowing if Daryl was out there, if I’d see him again.” 

“You’ll see him soon,” Rick assured you. “He’s talking to Deanna now.”

“And the others?” You asked. “Beth? Judith?”

“Judith is just fine,” Rick said, eyes leaving yours as he sighed. “Beth got caught out in Atlanta. A woman in a hospital killed her.”

Your stomach churned at Rick’s words, guilt crushing your lungs and bile rising in your throat. “Oh, my God,” you whispered, pressing your fingers to your mouth to try and stop yourself from throwing up. 

Rick nodded, resting a hand on your knee. He watched you stand, your arm resting over your belly, beginning to pace the floor before him. 

“I have to… I need to go see the others. Daryl.” And without another word, you were leaving Rick behind in an unfamiliar home, nearly running down the familiar path to where Deanna and her husband lived. 

The group milled about in the small courtyard in front of Deanna’s house, hidden behind the brick walls that fenced it in. Everyone was either sitting or leaning against something, sticking to a tight group, and completely blocking your path to the inside of the home. 

With your mind so set on seeing Daryl, on simply getting close to him again, you failed to register Carol saying your name. Once again, you were pulled from your thoughts only when someone was right in front of you. 

This time, Carol was pulling you into her arms, her grip on your body tight. You hugged her back, despite the sweat and grime that covered her. Soon enough, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, and Sasha had joined her. You were surrounded by your family, all overwhelmed at your presence, but happy nonetheless. 

When you finally requested to be let go, they obliged, and you finally spotted Judith in the arms of someone you didn’t know. Relief flooded you, seeing the baby healthy and happy as she could be. 

“What happened to you?”

“We thought you were dead!”

“Are you okay?”

“Guys, I’m fine, I promise.” You chuckled through tears. “I’ve been here almost the whole time, and I’m perfectly healthy. The doctor said so this morning.” 

You smiled as Carol’s eyes drifted from your face to your belly, shock overcoming her features, before her smile matched yours. She said nothing, but you were sure everyone else was either figuring it out or partially aware, just based on the interaction alone. 

A loud scoff echoed from the porch door, followed by low, gravelly muttering. Your heart stopped at the familiar voice, before thrumming in your heart like a rapid drumbeat. There, walking with careless ease, picking at his thumbs, was your husband, covered head to toe in layers of dirt and grime. You choked a sob as the group seemed to part around you. 

“Daryl,” you croaked, just loud enough for him to hear it. 

Daryl paused at the top of the steps, his eyes locked onto yours through the hair he’d let grow too long. In a flash, he was down the stairs entirely, rushing to pull you into his arms. You met him in the middle, colliding with his body and bringing you both to the ground. With one hand cupping the back of your head and the other splayed between your shoulder blades, Daryl cradled you close to him, rocking you as you clutched to the leather vest on his back tighter, sobbing in his embrace. 

“I thought ya were dead,” he whispered, fingers digging into your back. “I thought I lost ya,”

A choked sound escaped you as you shook your head. “Never,” you promised. “You could never lose me.” 

“Yer necklace,” Daryl croaked, tucking his face into the side of your head. “I found it, on the tracks in Georgia. Thought ya were gone…” 

“It fell.” You said, words hushed and shaking, as though they were a desperate plea. “Walkers were coming for me, too many for me to take on myself. It snapped off in the fight, I couldn’t go back for it.” 

By the time you felt okay enough to stand on your own, everyone had departed from the courtyard, likely into Deanna’s home. With a vice grip on his arms, Daryl helped you stand. His eyes raked over your face, tear-stricken and flushed with emotion. No matter the state you were in, Daryl could never see you as anything other than utterly beautiful. 

“You’re okay?” You asked, hands gently brushing the hair from his dirt-caked face. “You’re not hurt?” 

Daryl shook his head, leaning into your delicate touch. Hands smoothed over cloth, over skin, dedicating the feeling of your body beneath his touch to memory. He watched your eyes flutter closed as he did so, relishing in the slight pressure of his palms against your skin. They slid down your hips, your waist, and Daryl’s brow furrowed. He’d committed your body to memory long ago — every curve, every bump, every scar. Slowly, and with a hand that was less steady than it had been a moment ago, Daryl’s fingers drifted delicately over your front, eliciting a small gasp when he found what he’d suspected. 

The sound forced your eyes to open, meeting the bright blue of his own, widened in shock. Immediately, your stomach churned and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, a habit you’d been unable to shake since high school. 

“Daryl?” Your voice shook. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes darting down to where the backs of his fingers rested, the slight swell of your stomach confirming what he’d been about to ask. “When’d you… did you know?”

“No, no…” you whispered gently, shaking your head. “I had no clue when… I didn’t know until I got here. I suspected it on the road, but… no, I didn’t.” 

A shaking breath fell from his lips. “And yer okay? Yer both— both okay?”

“We’re just fine,” you smiled, resting your palm on his cheek. “I promise. Your girls are just fine.” 

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat, a new wave of pure emotion rolling through his body. It seized his muscles, freezing him in place as he struggled for breath and blinked away tears. Girls. He was going to be a dad. He was going to have a daughter. 

“Ya have no idea how much I love ya,” Daryl muttered, his head dipping low, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“I think I have a clue or two,” you joked, voice as soft as you could make it.

Daryl scoffed, lifting his head and pressing his lips to yours. It was short, shorter than you would’ve liked, but it carried as much love as all the other kisses you’d shared and stolen with the archer over the years. Still, he was here, and he was safe, and so were you. Nothing else mattered except that. 

The horrifying reality you’d thought yourself to be in was nothing but that — a mere thought. For now, you and Daryl were safe. Together. As a family. 

And you knew that, as he slipped the necklace back onto your skin, this time on a leather rope tied tight, there was nothing either of you wouldn’t do to stay that way. 

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[nervoushottee]

it happened quiet | daryl dixon x fem!reader

Summary: [1.5k] What you and Daryl have is a soft quiet love.

Big Bald Ass Note: I’ve always had a love for Daryl Dixon. He was one of the first “older man” crushes I ever had many years ago. I’ve always loved his character and the way Norman Reedus has and still does portray this character is like no other. My favorite thing about him that I didn’t understand when I watched twd when I was young but grew into adulthood was his introverted character. And how his care for others was soft, quiet and subtle yet strong and profound all at the same time. As a person who has a quiet love, personally prefers it and deeply cherishes that quiet love. I had the sudden urge to write this. I’ve been getting back into my Daryl Dixon phase recently and I just couldn’t get this out of my head. Thank you to @moonpascal for giving me that little push I needed to just go for it while the juices were flowing despite my other fic waiting outside waving her hands hoping to be seen, This is a long author’s note but this piece is truly something that means a lot to me. Which is funny because this is literally fanfiction but it's still writing and it's still art and it's mine. 

Enjoy.

Daryl wasn’t an affectionate person. It’s never been something that just came easy to him. He never received it as a child and didn’t think anything of it once he got older. 

There was one time when he was really really young. He was waiting for Merle after school, his older brother’s school building a few blocks away, and he watched his classmates greet their parents. He saw the parents with bright eyes and wide smiles. Mothers kissing their sons on the cheeks and fathers rubbing the top of their heads.

 A strong deep feeling within his belly grew from the sight of it and it got bigger and bigger as the two Dixon brothers walked back home.

And when they got to their home, Daryl saw their mom had been exactly in the same spot where the two boys had left her. Face down into the pillow, an arm hanging off the side of the bed where a spilled bottle of Jack Daniels had stained seeped into the carpet. 

Daryl cried for the first time ever. He cried for something he never had. 

He didn’t cry when he saw kids on the streets with new bikes and scooters. Didn’t cry when his mom and dad would yell until the sun went down. But he cried for this. That deep strong feeling that he couldn’t name poured out of him and he cried. Standing in the hallway as he watched his mother sleep. 

Merle, barely a teen and was bitching about spilled liquor, thought he was crying because mom looked too still. His older brother checked her pulse and felt the faint thump, thump, thump. “She’s jus sleepin’ Daryl.”, he explained to him. But Daryl didn’t stop crying. He hunched over, clutched his chest like his heart had been twisted and shoved down into his stomach and cried.

When Merle finally found out why he was crying, the older brother placed his hands on each of Daryl’s shoulders, stooped to his level and looked directly into his eyes. 

“Dixons don’t cry. Not over that or anything else. We just weren’t made for that stuff.” 

Daryl never cried or wanted it again. 

Until now. 

Until you. 

When the world’s gone to shit and the dead are walking. You gotta learn how to start trusting the living. Well,  to learn how to trust your group. They don’t just become a group of people you survive with. They become your family whether you like it or not. 

And in the beginning, Daryl sure as hell didn’t like it. 

He tried to force it away. To keep himself on the outside like he’s always done. Still did even when his brother went missing when they went back for him on that roof. But when time goes on and people die you build something, you find something and you learn something. He warmed into being more into the group. To being something of importance to Rick and the others. More than just Merle’s younger brother.  

He remembers Carol telling him that he was meant for a leadership role but he’s never thought that about himself. And never will.

And getting closer to them came with affection. Came with a bond. With awkward hugs from Carol when he had spent day and night looking for Sophia. Her cropped hair pressed against his bandaged ear. It came with pats on the back from Rick and looks that meant something a lot more brotherly than he’s ever felt with Merle. With you and your small smiles and lingering eyes. 

He had to learn to accept it. To learn that it was okay and wasn’t out of pity. That it was something he was actually allowed to have. It took him a long time to and he still only takes it in doses. Giving Carol a Cherokee Rose or the brief massage of her sore shoulder. Patting Rick’s shoulder,  hoping he knows how much his brotherly bond means to him through it. Nodding his head at you with the tip of his ears a bit red as he turns his head away from you. 

You’ve been a part of the group for as long as he could remember. And the two of you didn’t become something immediately. Daryl was an ass to you when all of this first started. He was an ass to everyone. But when he would small smiles from the courtyard, he would feel something that had never stirred inside of him before.

You were a touchy person. 

Always within arms reach of someone. Giving Lori a reassuring squeeze of the hand or hug when she seemed like she would just break down in tears from the stress of being pregnant in this world. Kissing the top of Beth's head when she came to you with her anxieties over the group's safety. Or playfully slapping T-Dog’s shoulder when he used to make you laugh.

But when it came to Daryl you never touched him. And he felt off about it. Thankful but off.

 When the two of you were starting to become something more, he had subtly brought it up when the two of you were on watch. It felt like pulling teeth when he asked you. And he would rather have done that with a rusted wrench than do this.

“I know you Daryl.” you said to him with a shrug. 

That was the only thing that you said to him when he had asked but it was all that he needed. As your eyes never left his, he watched you smile softly. The moon giving your skin a light glow. You knew that he doesn’t respond well to physical affection. To hugs or kisses on the cheek (except from Carol who does it despite the awkwardness she laughs through). You knew it was something he just wasn’t used to. Or even maybe never had.  It was only four words but it meant more to Darly than he could even say in a lifetime. 

And if you ever told anyone that he was the one that made the first move and kissed you at the top of the prison tower. He will lie until he’s blue in the face and say he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. 

After that you became more affectionate with each other. More touchy than before. Not touchy like Glenn and Maggie. Kissing each other goodbye when the other would go on a run or a quick kiss good morning. Or hugging after a run gone bad and they almost lost the other. Public display of affection to his partner, to you, is something Daryl could never really get on with. 

But what the two of you had was a quiet love. A word Daryl still had a hard time saying and rarely ever said but knew deep in his heart that he felt it whenever he looked at you. 

It was a quiet love filled with small glances and innocent touches. His hand against the small of your back or a quick tap on your arm or thigh. Your small smile to greet him and the nods that greets you.  Holding his hand underneath the table. Feeling his calloused thumb rub against your hand once or twice. Checking on eachother during the other’s watch shift. Him adding some of his food on your plate as he walks past you. You giving him a snack of whatever random thing you have on hand in the evening. Placing your head on his shoulder very briefly when there's not many people around. A mutual meaning of a hug when it's late at night and you won’t see him for a while.   

It was a silent bond the others knew about by name(ish) and feeling  but not as much by action. Those actions were yours and yours alone. And you both preferred it that way. 

Tender kisses and tight hugs. Soft caresses on the cheek and tracing fingers across bare chests. Whispered stories of childhood that turn into bedtime stories throughout the night. Expressing moments of doubt, fear or anger. Tears that would fall on your face and the feeling of his lips pressed against the top of your head.  

Even in moments when you were sleeping next to him. Your head on top of his chest or his arm curled around your stomach. Daryl would feel your wrist, his thumb against your pulse to make sure it's still beating. Or hold as still as he can like he’s tracking a buck in the forest to feel the up and down of your body to ensure you’re breathing. 

You became a big part of his life. This group (his family)  became a big part of his life. Who knew that it would only take the end of the world for him to feel something more than just anger for the first time in his entire life.  

Daryl wasn’t an affectionate person. But he learned how to be. For the good of the group, for himself and for you. 

dividers by @saradika

[aedixon]

Daryl would whimper when going down or getting his dick sucked. continues below

Seeing you on your knees, for him, pleasuring him.. it makes him weak in he knees. He swears he can cum right then and there from the sight alone. Your puffy lips, glassy eyes.. what a beautiful sight. He grabs the back of your head, whimpering as he pushes your head to take more of him, his hips instinctively bucking forward, all whilst letting out little grunts and whimpers of pleasure. As for going down on you, he eats you out as if you're the first meal he's had in days, weeks, months. It's messy and absolutely disgusting, but he doesn't care. His focus is on pleasuring you and only you. The smell of you, the taste, the sight.. it's too much for him to handle. He'll moan into you, his hands tightly gripping your thighs. Your thighs tighten around his head, but he doesn't care. If he dies in that spot, he'll die a happy man. A very happy man.