#Twd fluff

[sleepyangelkami]

PERVERTED II c.grimes

 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.5K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - carl decides to go through with this weeks saturday sleepover. so far, he's been able to control himself. until, that is, he hears you whimper his name in your sleep.

 𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, slight angst, somnophilia, thigh riding (kinda), fingering, pussy eating, cum eating, wet dreams, sex dreams, innocence kink, corruption kink, dom!carl, sub!reader, noncon, heavy manipulation, use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

series masterlist

"you sure you don't wanna come?" rick questioned as he took a box from his son, landing it inside the back of the truck. "we could use the help."

carl watched his dad place a hand on his hip before shaking his head, hand on his hat. "no, i promised y/n i'd stay over. can't miss saturday sleepover can i?" he'd laughed yet he knew he wouldn't wish to miss it for the world, either. rick gave him a look, lips slightly perking up as if he knew something. "what?"

rick wasn't born yesterday either. he was well aware what it was like to have a silly crush, especially at that age. but this... this was much different. "nothin'" before packing in the last box. "you be good, alright? don't ruin the house while glenn and maggie are gone."

the two were going on the supply run with him, along with many more of the fighters. "bye, dad." watching him get into the rusted car.

and so, the day went on.

by the time lunch rolled around, carl still hadn't seen you. however, he wasn't entirely alone. he soon found ron who decided to help him look for you. in return, you'd also be looking for his also missing girlfriend, enid.

"they're always running off." ron muttered under his breath. he knew enid was close with you, possibly your best friend had carl not been thrown into the mix. enid was always running off with you, slinging you around by the arm. "hey, what's the deal with you two anyway?" carl's head peeked up, brows knitting together. "is she like your girlfriend or something?"

his mind moved like puzzle pieces. girlfriend. carl had never had a girlfriend before but he was pretty sure you had to kiss and all that to actually be in a relationship. then again, you don't touch yourself with your 'friend's panties sitting on your dick. he cleared his throat. "no... no we're not together."

saying you were his friend didn't seem all too right but saying you weren't his girlfriend didn't seem right either. you were something.

but ron didn't look convinced, rolling his eyes with his brows raising slightly. "whatever, dude." was it really all that obvious to everyone aside from you? carl thought that if there was a competition on the most oblivious person alive, you'd win.

but perhaps that was the easier option. would he have preferred you to know? everything seemed so easy with the fact that you were so oblivious. it was like a reminder that he could do anything he wanted right under your nose.

"finally." hearing the mutter from ron, carl looked up. this was when he was met with the sight of you, as pretty as ever, sat next to enid on a bench near the town's pond.

carl could barely look at you. the way you sat with your legs folded, smiling away innocently, completely unaware of what he'd done last night. you wore a pretty skirt, enough to slightly hike up your legs, giving carl a view of the pretty plush of your thighs.

he could only imagine digging his hands around the plush, holding it and kneeding the skin. he could only imagine grasping your thighs, holding them close while he rammed his di―

"there you guys are!" ron exclaimed causing carl to shake his head, ridding himself of the thoughts he'd been having. "carl and i were looking all over for you." he had this voice he used when he spoke to girls, one that carl could guarantee was not the voice he used with him.

enid only rolled her eyes. the sight of her boyfriend and carl was enough to have her smile drop. "well, we weren't looking for you." she mumbled. some may say she didn't like anyone aside from you, not even her own boyfriend. carl didn't think there was much of a point of being with someone that you didn't even like. "hence the getaway pond."

ron must have thought she was joking because he came up to pinch her side and kiss her cheek. the sight alone had carl's stomach turning.

however, the sweet sound of your lulling voice was enough to bring him back. "hi, carl." you beamed at him, smile as wide as ever. he hadn't even registered you moving from the bench to his side. all he remembered was the feeling of you snaking in next to him, your body so close. suddenly, he felt so dirty. "we were feeding the ducks." smiling like a child on christmas. you always smiled like that, like you had a thousand things to be smiling about. it always made carl wonder if you were truly made for this world at all.

when he was around you, he was fighting off his own smile. yours was so contagious. the way his lips curved upwards told you he was happy for you, he always was. "that's great ba― y/n." correcting himself as his expression faltered, smile wavering.

he watched as your entire face fell.

he was unable to bring himself to call you those cute names. baby, sweetheart, like an old couple who'd spent their entire lives together. he couldn't bring himself to say such things after he imagined himself fucking you just the night before. it didn't seem right, not when you were so oblivious to the dirtiness behind his words.

the smile wiped clean from your face, carl was sure you could have cried.

you reminded him somewhat of a kicked puppy.

he'd been the one to kick you.

he never called you y/n, unless speaking to someone else like his father or even ron. this was because they'd hardly understand who you were if he was referring to you as sweetheart.

the point was, he only used your name if it was wholeheartedly necessary.

you wondered what'd changed.

your mind ran back to the night before. when he'd entered your house, looking awfully suspicious and at the sight of you, he practically rushed out the door. had you done something wrong? your heart ached at the idea that you may have upset him. a heart of gold, some people said you had. carl had to beg to differ. the look on your face explained all he needed to know, a heart of mere paper.

he regretted it the moment he said it.

he knew how you got, how all up in your head you could be. he could only imagine how you'd be for the rest of the day, going over every interaction you've ever had with the boy and wondering where everything went wrong, where you messed up.

the moment your name slipped from his lips, he thought it may have been better to call you anything else in the entire world. even if it was laced with the dirty undertone.

he felt your body move slightly away from his, eyes cast down on the ground to avoid any glances. "'m gonna go see aaron." you announced, rather loudly too.

"okay." enid responded, her eyes glancing you over before turning to carl, a slight glare, if you will. she didn't particularly like carl, though carl hadn't the foggiest idea why. perhaps it was because she was so protective of you. carl had to roll his eyes, if anyone knew what was good for you, it was him. "don't stay out too late."

you didn't respond, grasping your bag that sat at the bench before turning onto the footpath.

carl had to purse his lips. "wrong way." he said, just loud enough for you to hear.

with slightly wide eyes, you realised he was right. spinning around on your heel, you began walking left instead of right. "thanks." you mumbled under your breath before continuing your walk to one of your favourite people in the entirety of alexandria.

back at the pond, carl was cursing himself under his breath before turning around to find two accusing pair of eyes sat on the bench. one pair belonged to enid, the other to ron. "what did you do?" was enid's accusing tone, her face hard as stone. carl was on the receiving end of this look very often, he didn't fear it... well, he feared it a little but not as much as before... okay he feared it.

"what do you mean what did i do?" he instantly fell to defending himself. despite the fact that he knew he was the reason for your declining mood. "i didn't do anything."

whether it was to intimidate carl or that she smelled the sort of fish smell of ron that carl had smelt earlier, she perked up on the bench, loosening her boyfriend's arm across her shoulder. "she looks like a deflated balloon." she argued.

"yeah." ron nodded his head. carl couldn't stop the glare he sent his way, what did he know. "everyone knows aaron's like her very own guidance councillor, his boyfriend too." he shrugged his shoulders. "whatever you did, i'd say fix it quick."

the brunette boy only glared at the couple. "thanks guys, for that enlightening advice. but i don't need it, okay? i didn't do anything."

on the contrary, he was well aware that it was his fault. he needed to fix it and he needed to fix it fast but he didn't need enid and ron whispering in his ears. nobody knew you like carl, they didn't know what they were talking about. they hadn't seen you crying over some stupid movie you watched. they didn't see you smiling the way he did, they didn't take notice like him.

they'd never understand what it was like to know you. only carl would. and he'd make sure of that.

the sun was setting by the time carl had made it to your house. you'd opened the door, taking him in with your eyes before allowing him inside. maggie and glenn were on the run so the two of you headed straight towards the bedroom where'd you'd begin the movie night. however, carl was more focused on the fact that you'd spoken barely four words to him tonight rather than which disney movie you'd force him to watch this time.

he knew you were in your head but you wouldn't utter the words because what were you meant to say? hey carl, why didn't you call me baby? something so simple had ruined your entire day.

however, carl couldn't keep it in anymore. "are you okay?" he blurted out after many moments of silence as he sat atop your pink bed sheets.

you, at the foot of the bed pursed your lips. you pressed play on the movie and allowed the credits to begin. you weren't the type of person to insist that you were fine if you weren't. carl liked that about you, he never had to guess. "are you mad at me?" voice meek, like a childs.

the realisation hit carl that despite what he was feeling for you, he'd have to push it down in order to continue your friendship. at least, he couldn't take it out on you. "'course not, baby, c'mere."

the name fell from his lips like sweet relief.

it suddenly occurred to the boy that you needed him. desperately so. something as simple as calling you by your first name had thrown off your entire day. carl should have been worried, concerned even. instead, his heart fluttered a little.

you truly did rely on him.

with a sigh of relief, you found yourself crawling up to the boy. today had been so long with you being in your own head so when you felt the feeling of his hands sneak around your waist, it was like coming home after a long day at work.

you couldn't see his face but if you could, you'd see the sheer nervousness on his face. he needed to control himself but he wasn't sure how that was possible while you cuddled up against him beneath your bed sheets, clad in your pretty pale blue shorts and your white spaghetti strap top.

your knee was bent, extending over the top of his legs. there was a sharp intake of breath as your knee gently bumped against the prominent bulge in his shorts. you hadn't noticed, he knew you hadn't noticed and to make sure you wouldn't notice, he reached over to switch off the light, clearing his throat. "so, uh, what are we watching?"

"the princess frog." you answered, turning your head up to look at his face as he groaned.

a look of displeasment was evident on his face. "it's so boring!" he practically gushed.

offence hit you like a truck. "excuse me!" you battled. "i'd like to see you opening up your own restaurant all by yourself." even carl had to admit, you got him there.

carl never understood why you picked movies that you fell asleep so early during.

he heard your soft snores and your gentle breath hit the crook of his neck within the first half hour of the movie. though he couldn't blame you. truthfully, he could only blame himself in how he had your head messed up, practically knocked off your shoulders for the entire day.

it took until almost a full hour into the movie for you to stur.

at first, carl thought he'd misheard it. a little noise falling from your lips. then, he heard it again.

he held his breath as he heard the whimper leave your lips.

then, he felt it.

the gentle roll of your hips against his thigh had him practically seeing stars. the boy glanced to the tv hoping for some kind of a distraction from his obvious hard on. he couldn't wake you up, not because he actually couldn't. but because he wasn't too sure if he wanted to.

admitting it sounded like nails on a chalkboard but he'd be lying if he said he did want to. the little whimper you let out, sleepily and lowly albeit, into his ear was enough for him to almost completely loose his control.

it was like he was dreaming, it was everything he'd dreamed of, especially the night before.

you sounded even better than he'd thought.

he shouldn't have laid so still. you weren't aware of the way your hips bucked onto his leg, a little whine stretching from your lips. he reminded himself that you were too busy sleeping to understand what was going on. he couldn't engage with you, that'd be wrong.

so... wrong.

then he'd swore he heard it. "carl." a mumble in your sleep, enough for him to not know whether or not you were actually sleeping. he took a glance at your face, eyes screwed shut.

he was imagining things, he had to have been.

you soon rolled over, leaving him laying very stiffly as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening.

you were having a wet dream, obviously. that'd never happened before, at least not while cuddled up against carl. but he could have swore he heard you say his name. he shook his head, knowing he was wrong, he was so caught up in what had happened the night before that he was imagining you breathe his name.

then, he heard it again.

this time it was more stretched out into a whine. due to the movie on in the background, he could vaguely make out the way your cunt rutted onto nothingness, the mattress maybe but it wasn't enough to cause any real friction.

his mind stirred. if you really were having a dream about him, surely it was only his duty to... help?

but it was dirty, downright perverted.

but your noises were growing needier, obviously the bed wasn't enough for you to create real friction from. he had to help you. "poor girl, can't even get herself off." he mumbled under his breath, not enough to wake you up.

if he were to touch you, it wouldn't be for him. no, he was doing this for you.

he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't wake. on the contrary, you'd sleep through an asteroid should it hit your home.

he reached his hand down beneath the covers, holding his breath. he was helping you, he reminded himself, helping you. this was for you, making sure you felt good as your dream continued. your dream of him.

suddenly, he wasn't the all too dirty one. perhaps you were.

his fingers gently felt the core of your shorts, taking an intake of breath upon feeling just how wet you were. it practically seeped onto his fingers, it was a wonder if his sweatpants didn't have a wet stain on them from how you'd been rolling your hips against them.

he breathed in, gently massaging the area you needed him the most, you all but moaned into the pillow, eyes screwed shut.

carl had dreamed of this moment for as long as he lived, he wasn't ready to give it up just yet.

the way your hips jutted into his hand, creating all the friction you needed and you whimpered again, still stuck in slumber, had carl's confidence through the roof.

it was as if saying his name, he realised you wanted it just as much as he did.

how he ended beneath the covers, he wasn't too sure. perhaps it was the newfound confidence he'd gained.

he'd spent too long dreaming of this moment to stop now. he breathed as shallow as a man could before his fingers travelled back to your shorts, gently pulling them away from your aching cunt. that was when he realised you hadn't been wearing panties. did you do that often around him? had you been... expecting something?

nonetheless, carl was more than willing to give it to you.

his breath fanned your pussy, prettier than his sick mind could have ever mustered. the image would be burned into his head, it'd never leave. one thing was for sure, this boy wasn't leaving the next morning without putting his mouth to your cunt.

and that was exactly what he did.

his tongue reached your pussy, licking a long stripe and feeling your thighs jump and your body jolt. obviously, never been touched.

he knew it'd be him who touched you first. now, it was just him making sure of it.

he licked again, your wetness gathering on his tongue. he tried to hold back the groan that spread throughout your entire body. yet, you still lay sleeping. it somehow only egged him on further. he knew you wouldn't wake. to him, your body was his for the taking. and he was going to take it.

his tongue found your cute hole, hands against your thighs, holding them, trapping them down.

tongue dancing across your clit, he heard you moan even louder, still trapped by slumber. his lips curved upwards, tongue circling your clit. he moved one of his hands, using his middle finger to gently slide into your sopping hole. so wet for him, already.

he cursed enid and ron for thinking they knew you. he cursed all of the people who thought they knew you. the truth was, the only person you could ever rely on would be him, he'd make sure that you got what you needed, make sure all your needs were fulfilled at all times. perhaps this was just him making sure of that fact.

his tongue moved away from your clit, moving his other hand to meet it. he saw the way your body writhed against his hands. he couldn't wait to do this when you were awake.

it wasn't until your thighs actually began to shake that he knew what was happening. "s'pretty." he mumbled, dazed as drool practically dripped from his mouth. you truly were, the most beautiful thing he'd ever encountered his entire life.

mouth moving back to your cunt, he moved his tongue back against your clit at an alarming pace. with his now free hand, he held your thighs down, trapping them under him as your body shook against him, jutting your hips back and practically rolling your hips against his face. he relished in it. you were practically getting off to his pretty face which told him all the more just how much you loved this.

he felt your hips force themselves back to the bed, shaking and vibrating until your juices poured out onto his tongue.

you'd came.

he lapped you up without second thought, tongue dancing over your hole and licking the juices off the single finger he'd pushed inside of you.

licking his lips, he finally rose. he watched your face lull in your sleep, obviously content and finally getting your sweet relief. he gently moved your shorts to cover your pussy again, as if nothing had happened at all.

it took mere seconds for you to roll back over and onto him, cuddling against his side. he couldn't help but feel even dirtier.

you'd never even know.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[enidette]

THE PERFECT DRUG

warnings :: both are 18+, this doesn’t follow canon timeline but who cares, riding, unprotected sex (they’re so dumb don’t do that)

carl met you when you were brought back to alexandria, battered and bruised and shaking like a leaf from presumably trauma. his father, daryl, and rosita had gone scavenging and found you, and after some questions and your worrying state they brought you back.

he was drawn to you immediately. he was intrigued by how you held yourself. your normal behavior a great contrast to how shaken up you were when he first saw you.

he liked how similar you held yourself compared to him, independent, confident even if it was a facade. he liked how when you met him you just shook his hand and looked into his eye with kindness in yours. one of the first people to not look too long or overreact and interrogate him about the bandage.

but it was the little things that made carl's brain short circuit. tying your shirt up when it got too hot, exposing the skin of your belly. offering to care for judith, unknowing to how carl's mind ran wild about how you would do as a mother. maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but this crush he’s developed has become deeply rooted in the two years you've been here. despite never acting on it.

but you act so nonchalant around him. he's starting to understand how glenn and maggie fell together like puzzle pieces so quickly, but you don't seem to spare him a glance anymore. it drives him insane.

as of now the group is huddled together, brainstorming their next scavenging trip to satisfy negan. you're standing right in front of him, clad in cargo shorts and a white top tied in the front. you stood with your hand over your eyes, blocking yourself from the blazing sun as much as you could.

it's the little things.

you feel eyes on you and turn around, laughing shortly with no surprise that carl was behind you. "hey carl," you walk up to him, flicking his hat with a smile.

he hums in response, squinting his eye to see you clearer. "hi."

you shift your weight on your hip, "it's a little hot out to be wearing a flannel and jeans, huh?"

carl shrugs, "not much choice." him and those short answers, making it hard for you when all you want to do is listen to his pretty, raspy voice. it’s too bad he just doesn’t trust himself to speak around you.

you huff and start walking towards his house, a slight smirk setting on your lips when you hear him shuffling behind you "you're not going to help?"

"they're sending daryl and a couple of others, not me." you wait for him to speak again, ask you something else maybe. "they want me to watch after judith though."

"i got it." you say and open the front door of his house. you take judy away from olivia with a smile and a thank you. you bounce judith on your hip, carl standing behind you after he closes the door. you heard olivia say something about judith's nap time so you head up to her room to put her down.

no surprise carl followed you. you put judith down for bed, smiling at her sweetly.

“you’re good with her,” he observes allowed, following you as you walk out. you mumble a ‘thank you’ and turn to face him, leaning against the door of his bedroom. silence falls between you, the awkwardness growing when carl tries to get into his room.

you giggle nervously when you realize you’re in his way, moving to the side a bit before looking up at him. his eye flicks from your eyes to your lips. you don't miss it, silently gasping and put your hands on his chest to prevent him from coming closer.

his hand comes up to one of yours, guiding it up to his hair. you blink your eyes away from him. his head dips down to look into your eyes that are hellbent on avoiding him. you look up at him now, breathing out heavily. "i want you." it's a mumble under your breath, barely audible.

he laughs breathlessly, inching his face closer to yours. "i want you too." he mumbles before pressing his lips against yours. and his imagination is vivid, no doubt. but all of the noises he had you make for him in his head didn't come close to the pretty, honey-like sound of the ones escaping you now.

it didn't compare to how soft your lips felt against his, how perfect your skin felt on his fingertips. he pushes himself against you, chest to chest and deepens the kiss. you let out a small whine, using your free hand to grip his shirt.

his lips go to your jawline, sucking and biting and kissing at the skin. he's careful to not leave marks, saving those for the places only he could see. his hand goes behind you to open the door, pushing you inside clumsily before laying you down on his bed and hovering over you.

he bites his lips while he takes you in. you're breathing heavy, your chest rising and falling quickly. he sees the sheer shine of sweat on your skin, how plump your lips are from your kiss, how pretty your skin looks with the little light seeping from the window.

he pushes your shirt up and kisses along your abdomen, leading up to your chest and taking it off completely. his hand goes to your back, lifting you off the mattress slightly to rid you of your bra. he sighs with satisfaction when he finally sees your tits for himself.

his fingers lazily roll your nipples, the small action causing you to whimper and buck your hips. he looks up at you curiously, taking in everything that caused a reaction. he was going to prove to you that he could make you feel good.

he motions for you to take your clothes off and groans at the wet patch on your panties. he grinds against your clit and you gasp, his jeans causing friction that feels so good. the embarrassment of you being nearly fully naked while he's still dressed adding onto the fire in your belly. he whimpers in your ear every time he moves his hips, his hands holding yours in place against the mattress.

“wait,” you breathe out, hands coming up to his chest to stop him. you gesture for him to lay down before straddling him. you unzip his jeans, tugging them down his legs. your impatience gets the best of you leaving you to abandon them at his mid-thighs. he laughs at your desperation, helping you pull your panties to the side and guide yourself onto his cock.

you whine at the intrusion, going down slowly. he sucks in a breath through his teeth, throwing his head back. his hat falls off as a result and with a smirk you pick it up and set it on your head.

"you look perfect." you look down shyly, trailing your hand up his shirt to reveal his slim figure. you breathe out shakily as you force the rest of him inside of you, sitting still for a bit to adjust and get used to feeling him inside of you.

all the while carl is looking at you like you’re a goddess, half lidded eyes raking along your body. your hands are unsteady on his chest, trying your best to steady yourself and bounce on him properly.

you find a rhythm and your head falls to his neck. but he doesn’t want to take his eyes off of you, finally getting you to himself the way he wanted. not to mention how crazy you drove him wearing his hat.

your arms wrap around his neck and you move your head to kiss him. it's soft, carl wants to savor this as long as he can. his arms go around your waist, leaving you to grind on him instead. the kiss is messy, mostly heavily breathing into each others mouths trying to stay as close as possible.

his hips attempt to buck into yours, thrusting into you fast and messily. his lips lock with yours and his right hand cups your chest. he pulls out with a groan and your hand comes up to wrap around his cock. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast causing whimpers to fall from your lips. his brows furrow and his mouth falls agape while he watches your pretty hand finish him off.

taglist :: @carlslvr @hiro--aoki @carlsangel @mozzeralla-stix @carlmipololo

[rickgrimesfever]

Sleepy Sheriff

ughhhh, was just thinking of my handsome husband, so here y'all gooooo! Just something short and sweet for my babygirl 😩

Synopsis: You wake up before your boyfriend and have a minute to admire just how handsome he really is. Set in early Alexandria.

The rays of the warm sun peek in through the silky curtains covering the window. The rays land across your face and your eyelids slowly open.

You inhale sharply, feeling relaxed for the first times in day. You glance around the bedroom, still trying to get use to your new home.

This big house all to you, Rick, Judith, and Carl. You have to learn how to live again...

You glance over at the sleeping body beside you. Rick is still asleep on his side, his arm still tightly wrapped around your waist while his other arm is over his head.

His bare chest is poking out from the sheets covering the rest of his body as he's sprawled out on the bed.

Your eyes rake over his clean shaven face and his sharp jawline. The way his curly locks hang over his forehead and his pink lips are slightly parted open, soft breaths leaving.

You carefully reach your hand out and rake your fingers through his soft, clean hair. You smile at how easy your fingers glide through his locks, tucking them behind his ear.

Your heart skips a beat as you stare at Rick. Oh, how you loved him.

You loved him when he had black eyes, bruised ribs, when his face was beaten beyond recognition. You loved him when people were afraid of him and how he was acting when all he was trying to do was protect his family.

You loved him when he was protecting you from any threat or walker. You loved him when he was staring at you with those beautiful blue eyes, declaring how much he loves you and how he will always protect you.

Rick stirs in his sleep, inching closer to you and tightening his arm around your waist. You gently place your hand on his cheek, your thumb rubbing his skin ever so carefully.

He's so handsome and angelic. God, did you love Rick Grimes.

A/N: I am working on requests right now btw! <3

[sc3ptre]

heyy dear, can you write some fluff with daryl and gf reader where glenn gets one of those polaroid cameras and start taking pictures of everyone at the prison, and when he checked the photos he noticed that daryl is lovingly gazing at reader in all the photos they appear together? even when glenn or carol starts teasing daryl about it he still ask glenn if he can keep them🥰

Picture perfect

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

a/n: here goes another extra fic this week. I swear it won't always be like this but i have far too much free time and i don't know what else to do with myself.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none.

Era: Season 4

Word count: 0.9k

“You’re gonna run out of Polaroids,” Carol said with a smirk, arms crossed as she leaned over Glenn, who was hunched at a table like it was a science project.

He didn’t look up, just grinned. “Already did. Totally worth it, though…look at this.”

He fanned out a handful of glossy squares, all slightly curled and sun-warmed. Carol leaned in, her expression curious until she saw it. You and Daryl, in nearly every shot but the focus wasn’t on the two of you smiling. In most, you were doing something completely ordinary…laughing with Maggie, cleaning your knife or merely walking next to the others, but in every single one, Daryl was looking at you, really looking. Unfiltered, soft-eyed and completely unaware of the camera. Sometimes he was in the background, sometimes next to you but never not watching.

Carol blinked and looked up. “What am I supposed to be seeing here?”

Glenn smirked like a kid holding a secret. “Blackmail, Carol, gold-tier. I'm talking ‘Dixon blushing’ level ammo.”

Carol laughed. “Oh, no. You don’t wanna play that game, Glenn.”

“Oh but I do. He stole my candy bar last week, this is divine justice.”

Despite her warnings, when Daryl finally rode back from his run that afternoon, Glenn was already posted up by the third gate like he was waiting to serve papers.

Daryl climbed off his bike with dust and grime smudging his neck and arms and his crossbow still strapped to his back. He dropped his bag onto the seat and looked around, automatically searching for you.

“Looking for someone?” Glenn teased, a grin stretching on his face.

Daryl scowled. “You know where she’s at?”

“Depends. How bad do you want to know?” He paused. “That hatchet you got there’s pretty sweet,” Glenn said with a sly grin, nodding at the weapon strapped to Daryl’s bike.

Daryl squinted, suspicious. “Ain’t for you.”

“It is now,” Glenn smirked, pulling a single photo from his pocket like it was top-secret intel. He glanced around dramatically before flashing it.

The archer looked down at it, then let out a low scoff, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Think she dun know I look at’er like tha’?” he muttered, tapping two fingers against Glenn’s temple once, snatched the photo and then, thwap!, he flicked Glenn’s ear, muttering “You creepin’ on me now?”

“Ow! What was that for?!” Glenn hissed. “You’re the one gazin’ like a lovesick outlaw.”

“Ain’t news to her, dumbass. Now, move.”

Grumbling, Glenn backed off but a few steps away, Daryl’s voice called after him. “Hey, Glenn!”

He turned. Daryl just stretched his hand out and Glenn sighed like he’d just lost a poker game, face falling. “All of them?”

“All of ’em.”

A second later, a stack of photos landed in Daryl’s palm, photos he quickly tucked into his bag without another word, meaning to look at them more closely later.

The sun warmed your skin as you approached the scene, steps slowing as Glenn passed you on his way back inside, rubbing his ear with a crooked smile.

“Hey…” you said, brow raised.

“Hey,” he muttered, shooting a sheepish glance over his shoulder at Daryl. “He’s all yours.”

“Right...” You frowned confused, then turned toward Daryl with that big smile he always pulled out of you. “Hi, handsome.”

He glanced up, immediately straightening a little, lips twitching upwards as he hid something behind his back. “Hey.”

“What was that about?” you asked, motioning toward the way Glenn had gone.

Daryl shrugged. “Kid’s troubled.”

“And you’re not?”

He smirked, still holding something behind him. “Maybe, but ya like it.”

“That I do,” you grinned, stepping closer. “Now, what are you hiding?”

With a little grunt, Daryl pulled two leather-bound journals from behind his back. One was your favorite color and unsurprisingly, it made the gift all the more meaningful. Your jaw dropped.

“Are you gonna start journaling with me?” You asked excitedly, taking them both from his hands.

Daryl scratched the back of his neck, glancing down like it was no big deal. “Kinda tired of watchin’ ya do it alone before bed. Even started wonderin’ if ya got a secret crush or somethin’.”

You wrapped your arms around him, laughing softly into his shoulder. “It’s you, so not very secret.” He hugged you back then, gentle and a little awkward, like always…exactly in that way you loved.

“Ya gotta teach me what t’ write, tho’, or it’s gonna turn into sum’ creepy book ‘bout ya.”

You pulled back with a giggle. “Doesn’t sound awful”

“Really doesn’t.” He reached out to gently squeeze your side, making you yelp and bat his hand away, but the more you looked at him, the more you could tell he was still hiding something.

“So…what’d Glenn give you?” you asked, poking at his bag with the journals.

Daryl hesitated for a beat before pulling out the photos, thumbing through them like they were old keepsakes. “Journaling material, ‘cause he’s nice like tha’” he said.

“The…troubled kid” You repeated in the same tone he had used.

“Mhm, the one.” He pointed at the pictures now in your hands, “For scrapbookin’. That wha’ ya call it?”

You smiled and nudged his arm teasingly. “Look at you, already learning and collecting.”

“Kinda fell into my hands,” he mumbled.

“Uh huh. I’m sure it did.”

You watched him a second longer, your heart fluttering as he carefully took the photos and tucked them into his vest’s inner pocket, like they were precious.

“You always look at me like that?” you asked, pointing at where the pictures were now carefully kept.

He shrugged looking away, ears already a faint pink. “Nah. Just when yer breathin’.”

[konigslittleliebling]

NOT HER, NOT EVER. -> D. DIXON

table of contents; established relationship, strong language, implications of assault, protective!daryl, hurt/comfort, soft!daryl (only with you), some fluff at the end

when your group settled into alexandria, which was once rick had finally deemed it safe and its people trustworthy, you resumed the domestic role you played before the world ended.

as did carol.

in all honesty, the pair of you never really abandoned your places as the mothers of the bunch, neither did lori when she was alive—though they were actually mothers, so it came naturally to them. but before maggie, you were the only other married woman in the group, so the duties of chef; laundrette; healer; moral compass; voice of reason—and the like—weren’t anything you hadn’t become accustomed to throughout your marriage to the. . . let’s say, untameable of the group.

and you loved it.

the normalcy of it. the familiarity.

the way that whilst you were vacuuming your new home and scrubbing last night’s dishes, the world was still falling apart beyond those red gates; yet if you were to wake up here after all these years, you’d be none the wiser.

it was almost perfect.

but not every resident welcomed you warmly.

rick had already had a run-in with pete anderson, alexandria’s doctor. quite simply, rick took a shining to pete’s wife who didn’t make an effort to rebuff his advances.

but since rick’s wife is dead and he’s yet to replace her, not that he isn’t trying (and with another man’s wife, no less) — pete’s sights settled on the next best thing.

and who better than the wife of rick’s best friend and second-in-command?

the clock ticks, the ceiling fan whirs, the house creaks against its earthy shrine, and here you sit.

the faucet drips, you sit.

the breeze curls against the windows, still you sit.

your book remains open in your lap, you stopped reading it at least an hour ago. you kept rereading the same line anyway.

you swallow, it’s painful. your fingers brush your throat where a gnarly bruise blackens the skin, you wince.

but when the front door opens, you jump.

it’s only daryl, of course it is. it’s always daryl.

“hey,” he greets in his usual tired, a little rough, very raspy voice. he’s always tired after a day of hunting or scouting with aaron. “y’alright, babe?”

you hum a meek ‘mhmm’, head faced away from him.

you know he heard you. he hears everything.

with his boots still on, muddy and wet, he slings a rabbit—already skinned—onto the kitchen island.

two things that would usually earn him a word of warning, or at the very least a stern glare. but you don’t so much as bat an eye.

red flag number one.

“got dinner.” he tells you, gesturing to the little animal—dead on the counter.

he expects you to jump up and wax poetic about the importance of food hygiene and a sterile cooking environment.

you do nothing. “thank you, baby.”

daryl grunts. “uh-huh,” his thumbnail finds its way between his teeth, nibbled and gnawed, then he flicks his hair from his eyes. “whatcha do today?”

“not a lot.” you stretch your hoodie sleeves over your hands, then prop your cheek against your hand, conveniently shielding your face with your palm. “same old, really. did you and aaron find any survivors?”

“nah,” he frowns, fingers picking at the calluses on his hands. “just this lil guy.” he juts his chin at the rabbit, not that you’re looking at him to take notice.

you’re always so eager to welcome him home, hear about his time beyond the walls whilst you prepare supper, then tell him all about your day once he’s done.

but not tonight. that there is red flag number two.

“gonna tell me what’s up?” he asks, voice low. thin, even. like he’s afraid to hear your answer.

“i’m just tired.” you lie, pretending to scrub your eyes—just another excuse to conceal your injuries, something that doesn’t go amiss.

he sees everything, especially when it comes to you.

“i think i’ll head up to bed after i’ve made your dinner, i barely got a wink of sleep last night.”

you were fast asleep when he got up this morning. out cold, dead to the world as you snored softly with a faint smile on your face.

because even in sleep’s embrace, you’re happy. always happy.

the light of the group, the heart and soul that glues them together.

if you’d had a restless night, it would’ve woken him. daryl’s a light sleeper, but not you.

you’re lying.

and there goes red flag number three.

“ain’t gonna eat with me?” he asks, circling the kitchen until he’s in front of you.

you look away.

“i ate lunch pretty late, my own stupid fault.” you look down at your book, pretending to read.

he takes note that you’re on the first page, the one where the author pays tribute or dedicates the novel to a loved one. you never read those, you always skip to the first chapter like everyone else. no one reads the prologues—he never understood why authors bother to write them.

daryl clears his throat, chest tight. you shrink into yourself when he sits atop the coffee table, hands clasped. “hey,” he tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse of your face. “look at me.”

you refuse, finally turning the page of your book. you skim over the words, not absorbing a single one of them.

“baby.” his hand, tanned and weathered, flattens over your page. “need ya to look at me.”

you blink, then ghost a finger over his knuckles—scarred, dry. you trace down to his wrist, then his forearm. he catches you with his other hand, holding yours within it. he gives it one squeeze, then circles his thumb over the back of it.

he taps it once, twice, thrice.

“i’ll sit here ‘til ya do.” he takes your book and places it on the table beside him. “then we’ll both go hungry ‘n sleepless.” he grips your other hand, comforting.

then he twists them to face palm-up and lifts your wrists to the light, the unmistakable markings of fingers that weren’t his revealing themselves in all their morbid glory. “fuck’s all this?”

his voice is low and gritty. lethal.

it’s not what he says, it’s the way he says it.

“daryl. . .”

“who?” he asks, lower. you almost don’t hear him.

you open your mouth, then close it again. each word that manages to surpass a thought dies on your tongue.

he goes stiller than stone.

“i was testing some lipstick shades but they were all a bit too bright—didn’t suit my complexion. they obviously left a stain.” you try to free your wrists but he holds them tighter. “. . .they’ll wash off.”

you don’t wear make up.

“c’mon, then.” he stands, pulling you up with him.

“daryl—”

you struggle against him as he drags you toward the kitchen sink.

“wash ‘em off.” he finally lets go of you to turn the tap on.

you freeze, staring at the flow of water like it’s your first day on earth.

a finger hooks under your chin, gentle in its guidance. you allow him to finally look at you, tears immediately gathering in the wells of your eyes.

his stare hardens, blue eyes flitting like he’s picturing every possible scenario or reconstructing a crime scene.

“do nothing.” you whisper, placing your hand over his heart. it hammers against your palm like its trying to punch itself free. “we need this.” you motion around you. “we earned this.”

he scuffs a knuckle over the swell of your cheek, then the purplish blotch that cups your eye.

you grimace, he scowls.

“got lipstick on yer cheek, did ya?”

“please,” you take his face in your hands. “i’m okay.”

“take it off.” he grumbles, eyes now pinned to your hoodie.

“what—?”

“fuckin’ take if off.” he repeats, dark. firm.

you shudder, a fat bile rising into your throat. you’re not afraid of him, but of what he’ll do.

“ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he softens his voice. “just need to see.”

you know he’d never hurt you.

you take the hoodie off.

he looks. like, really looks. gently, as though you might snap, he lifts your arms. your ribs are bruised, as is your neck.

“name.” he gruffs.

“no.” you refuse.

his eyes find yours, permeating. “name.”

you huff out, hugging your arms to your middle. “pete.”

his jaw ticks, shoulders rigid like a board.

“but don’t do anything, please, stay here with me.”

you expect him to smash a plate or send his fist through the wall, but he does neither of those things. he cups your elbow, his other hand finding rest stop at your shoulder. “go upstairs.” he nods toward the staircase, expression dead like he feels nothing at all. you know it’s a front: that thing he does when he doesn’t want to frighten you. “i’ll meet ya up there.”

“daryl—”

“i’ll meet ya up there.” he persists, pressing you ahead of him by the small of your back.

“what’re you going to do?” you ask, turning at the step.

he gazes down at you, unreadable. masked.

you’ve seen that look before—you don’t need to hear him say it.

you head upstairs.

only once he’s heard the door to your shared bedroom close does he charge for the front door, snatching his crossbow from the porch on his way.

the moon is high in the sky when you hear the front door open and close upon someone’s arrival.

or more-so, their return.

it’s even higher by the time you feel the mattress dip, a welcome warmth embracing you.

“where’ve you been?” you ask, sleepily.

“where’d ya think?” he murmurs, huddling against you.

you reach over to flip the bedside lamp on and you both groan—you when you sit up, and he when light floods the room.

his knuckles are skinned, dried blood crusted around his nails. you peer over at the corner where he likes to discard his clothes, even though the laundry basket is right there.

his shirt is soiled where brownish blood sprays it, and you spot some rips and tears that weren’t there before, like there was a bit of a scuffle.

“is he alive?”

your questions hangs in the air for a moment.

“barely.” he finally answers, arm slung lazily over your lap.

“how bad did you—”

“don’t matter.” he husks, eyes closed. “he ain’t gonna bother ya again, so don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“can he even walk? or talk? does he even remember who he is?” you don’t deny he deserved it, but if the monroes catch wind of this, you’ll be out on your asses.

“he can walk.” he tells you, thumb massaging your tummy. “go to sleep.”

you lay yourself back with a sigh, your face and torso still on fire. “did he say anything about it?”

“made him admit it first.” daryl shrugs a little, hand flat like a paper weight on your lower belly. “wanted to see if he was a man at all.”

“and?”

“beat it out’a him eventually, but if he was a man he wouldn’t’ve touched ya in the fuckin’ first place.” he goes tense against you, like he’d been trying to force that part from his memory.

“well, thank you for letting him live.” you place your hands over his, a lighthearted inflection to your tone.

“didn’t wanna, but he’s got a woman n’ kids at home—even if they’d be better off. ‘sides, it would’a been a mercy. he’s gotta live with what he did n’ what came for him after he did it.”

you hum, rolling your head to the side so you’re facing him. as if feeling your gaze, he opens one eye, droopy and tired. “what else does he have to live with?”

a small smirk teases the corner of his mouth—one of satisfaction. “few broken bones n’ a busted lip.”

“he’ll tell deanna and reg.” you warn softly, tucking a stray of shaggy hair from his face.

“nah, told him if he did i wouldn’t be so forgivin’ next time.” his breathing slows as you comb your fingers through his hair, nails scraping soothingly against his scalp. “he’s a doctor, ain’t he? he’ll be fine.”

“i guess.”

“want ya to go see maggie or carol first thing, get yerself checked up.” his hand slides to give your hip a gentle squeeze, then returns to splay over your front.

you boop his nose in return and that same eye peels open to glare at you. “i’m fine, my ribs aren’t broken. just sore.”

“don’t care.” he grouches, hand lifting to point a finger at your face. “and these.”

“just cuts,” you catch his finger, then try to pinch it between your teeth. he snatches it away with a dry chuckle. “they’ll heal.”

“woman, just fuckin’ do it.” he insists, tone in jest but still deadly serious.

you snort. “oh, i’m convinced!”

“damn right ya are.”

a knock at the front door disrupts you.

“ignore ‘em.” daryl grumbles, leaning over you to switch the light off.

“i know y’all are awake!” you hear a voice call up.

you frown. “is that rick?”

“yep.” daryl reaches up to close the window, then flops back down.

you wince. “daryl, careful.”

“sorry.”

“saw your light go out!” rick knocks again.

“go let him in.” you give daryl a nudge. “it might be about pete.”

“exactly.” he gripes.

“i’ll just keep knockin’!”

“you know he will.” you nudge him harder this time. “tell him the truth, he’ll be on our side.”

then the jarring sound of a nasally snore fills the room. he never snores.

“i know you’re faking.” you shake him. “daryl.”

the ‘snoring’ gets louder.

you purse your lips, then throw the covers off and kick your legs over the side. “making your wounded wife answer the door in the middle of the night.” you tut, tying your robe as loosely as you can. “unbelievable.”

his face meets the wrath of your pillow when you toss it at him, then you pad across the room. “coming!”

[writella]

Here He Is, Finally

Synopsis: “When’s it gonna be my turn? Open me up, tell me you like it, fuck me to death, love me until I love myself—” This is a story about the inner struggles of a desiring Daryl who just wants to be free of the perceptions the town, and his own mind, have put on him, so he can love you and love himself, in the ways he’s always wanted to.

—or: As Daryl becomes the talk of the town, insecurity sets in that hinders him from having sex with you— the thing you most want to do.

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, ambiguous age gap, mixing early seasons’ + later seasons’ personality of Daryl, the town being mean but also thinking Daryl’s hot because he is, discussions of gossiping, insecurity, and poor self-image, Daryl fights someone :), and smut— unprotected + he’s nervous but then it gets good, and it’s their/Daryl’s/your first time in whatever way you want it to be.

A/N: He’s literally me (I’m a girl).

— With love from writella. ♡

There it was. You finally said it. You told Daryl that you were ready to have sex.

When you told him, the two of you were having a quiet morning and he was about to leave. Pulling yourself up to his height, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he took you by the waist, one hand reached up to hold your head, rubbing his thumb there. Good, you had thought, he’s reciprocating. That let you know he was okay, but still, underneath, you knew he was embarrassed about last night. You weren’t going to bring it up though, not then. You wanted to move forward, to show him that you didn’t care. “Daryl,” you started, words slow, uneasy in voice but sure in intention, as you whispered to him from above his shoulder, “I just wanted to tell you– that– I feel like I’m ready.” You paused for a moment. “And whatever you feel, I’m okay with it. Just talk to me.” As silence ensued, you kissed him on the cheek, “I love you,” you said, and pulled back.

Daryl kept his hands in yours as he looked at you. His features were sad and soft as much as they were unreadable. He kissed you on the forehead. “I love you too,” he said– it wasn’t the first time you two had exchanged those words– and then he left. Just like that.

You had no expectation for how he would react. You only knew he wouldn’t give you a flat-out no, so this, was understandable. But still, there was something hollow about it, even if his kiss and words were tender. It was another relationship moment that reminded you that these things never happen as they do in fairytale romances.

You see, you had always pictured him or whoever you were with at the time, bringing you close, kissing you, their fingers trailing down and under the hem of your skirt or pants, asking you if you were ready, if you were sure, if you wanted them to go slow, slower, but Daryl— as it turns—was incredibly pure, or at least pretending to be. Either too nervous or sensitive about these things, possibly inexperienced, or much more innocent with his intentions than you ever expected. It’s like you knew Daryl like the back of your hand, but when it came to anything about you as a couple, his history, who he’s dated before– you were clueless. You didn’t know what it could be.

One thing you did suspect, although Daryl has never told you, is that he thought of you as precious, something to be delicate with, like a flower. Sometimes you’d tell him he didn’t have to be so slow or soft when you were kissing– he was always a little sloppy anyway– and whenever there was a task to get done you’d be the first to tell anyone you could do it yourself— he knew this about you. And it’s not like he babies you or anything, that was never his way. Like when you two were fighting walkers, or doing work around the communities, or when he’d teach you how to do something. You’ve even told him that he could be a bit demanding sometimes; grouchy, rough, even; and he agreed– that was true. He didn’t do it on purpose, the whole being hard on you thing. But alone? When he was on top of you or you over him? Waking up to you? Feeling your hand reach for his own in the dark? Even just eating dinner with you? The guy was a mess! A little boy, even. Heart racing. Eyes averted at times.

Whenever he nipped you, on the lips, or the neck, maybe he pushed you on the bed too hard, grabbed your waist too tight that it squeezed the bone, there were always silent apologizes of gentle circles, sweet kisses, and tongue licks to soothe the pain or possible bruises he left on you. And sometimes, when you’re home alone or you shower together, and he starts to kiss you or pull you in by the waist, he almost always sets out with the intention that this time he’d finally do it— the sex thing— he always wanted to. Only if you knew! Honestly, he’d feel like such a pervert if he let you know how many times, both before and after you got together, that he’s thought of being inside you, or you on your knees for him, or him kissing up your thighs and tasting you– he genuinely thinks he’d really like it, all of it, but especially that. But every time you’ve kissed and kissed enough, he’d get too overwhelmed about how to proceed or too nervous to even try. He tells you that you two should shower or go to bed or that he has to go for whatever reason. So all you’ve done is grind on each other, a lot, but that’s about it. You know he’s gotten hard and you’ve gotten wet, but you’re not sure if he’s ever noticed. He wants to put his hands in your pants, he wants to rip your blouse, he wants to squeeze your breast and slap your ass, but every time he thinks about actually doing it, he feels it's too forward or raunchy, or maybe it's not actually like him in the way he’s pictured in his head, or maybe you’d hate it, and specifically the way he did it. And he has thought about doing it slowly, romantically, but every time he thinks about doing that, he feels stupid, thinking he’ll come off as clumsy and pathetic to you. He doesn’t exactly get the concept of slow and sexy yet— reaching up, breathing you in, letting his fingers linger, or hands caress and massage. It’s not that he couldn’t do it though, or so he thinks, if he really tries; it's that doesn’t even think he’s sexy to begin with.

The only thing Daryl knows for sure are the things people call him when they think he’s not listening.

“Deep and… grunty,” one much too young girl said to her equally young friend who giggled, indicating her agreement even if she was too afraid to verbalize it. “I just like his voice,” the first girl said, “it’s sexy.” Or, “Wild,” as one of Aaron’s friends whispered to him, “Like he could throw me around, do it in front of the whole town, and wouldn’t care who saw.” To which Aaron scoffed and replied, “That’s literally my fucking friend.” But in truth, it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it himself, how Daryl looked underneath his vest and button-downs– it was just once though!– he promises!– as if he needed to explain it to himself. He even told his husband about it; they had agreed on Daryl’s attractiveness. Eric called it “rugged,” and they laughed about it over dinner. Now, Aaron would repeat that word as he overheard another group of ladies discussing ways to describe or trademark some of the male leaders in town. As Aaron passed by, “rugged,” was his suggested alternative to the word “beast” when one older lady described Daryl, in a way that would make anyone not a part of the conversation cringe, “Beast, sexy armed beast.” But Aaron was only met with silence and weird hums until a girl replied that “sexy armed rugged,” doesn’t make any sense. Accordingly, all the ladies agreed. As Aaron walked away, wanting nothing more with this kind of conversation about his friends, he caught the new suggestion: “Daddy,” a girl had said with the widest smile on her face— she wasn’t a teenager, but it was obvious that this was her first time being vocal about these things. She must have felt she said something so salacious. And as much as Aaron wanted to gag, there was also a part of him that reluctantly stopped himself from laughing and blushing with the rest of the women. One of them, rolling her eyes said, “They can’t all be daddy,” to which another girl said, “But they kind of are!” and then he was too far away to hear anymore.

Daryl didn’t get any of it.

The only ones that truly bothered him though were when they added, “I know he’s a little ugly but,” or “I know he’s not my type but,” or “I know he looks a little dirty but,” “And he never does his hair but,” “And he’s not like the smartest but,” but, but, but—

It all made him feel bad about himself; more confused.

Even when it was just generally flattering, he found it hard to take any of it as a compliment. Sometimes he would, maybe the whispers of him being “kinda hot,” on the days when he’d return to his cut-off sleeved shirts, or maybe those moments when a lady would be talking to her friend saying how he’s “handsome,” or how she just knows “he’s packing–big–” and what’s better than a big dick, right? At least that is what Daryl thought (it's the bit of Merle in him) and he bets Negan wished he had one— Daryl was pretty sure Negan’s is a tiny little bitch just like his personality. No one gets to kill one of his best friends and gets more than a three-incher. Right, J.C.? If you’re even up there? Not that Daryl would mind if He were or weren’t, or cares if you cared– Daryl didn’t think about religion that much anymore anyway. And on that note, he realizes that he doesn’t do a lot of the same things he used to anymore either. Like the way he would walk around without a care, even confidently sometimes, not thinking about how much he swung his arms or the way he talked or the way his hair fell that day. There was this one time, as he was walking over to Rick in the garden, telling him he couldn’t find whatever particular tools Rick wanted, he yelled, “They ain’t there no more, Rick!” that he heard some older guy say to his friend that Daryl sounded like a “human gremlin,” to which the friend tried to one-up him by replying, “more like garbage disposal.” Then another day, some girl said he looks like a “wet rat sometimes,” especially when his hair is flat or, as said in the phrase, wet; and he never forgot it, either of them, or anything anyone has ever said about him. It’s always been like this. Even when he was a kid.

Daryl tries to remember that people have just gotten too comfortable now that Alexandria is back on track, or at least that’s basically what you had said once. When it happened, Daryl came into your room, huffing and throwing himself on your desk chair saying, “Some people don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.” To which you had asked him what was wrong, but he shook his head.

“Well,” you begin, responding to his un-answer, “some gossip is misogynized. It used to be a way for women to spread information, but–” you avoid the lecture— “I get what you mean.” You look at him, seeing the way his eyes still drift. “I can’t tell you everything, but Rosita and I had heard some people speculate on the whole her and Saddiq and Gabriel thing.” You shook your head, your eyes rolling a little, “It made her upset. I could tell. But it took her a while to talk about it. I think some people forget they can talk behind closed doors now. Our porches aren’t as private as they used to be and… people have gotten mean.” To that, you both nodded in agreement and then you climbed toward the edge of your bed to hold his hand. Something was obviously wrong. “Has anyone said anything about you?”

Again, he shakes his head and you have to leave it at that— all he wanted to do was ask questions about you now, and he wouldn’t let you change the subject.

But at home, alone, he stares at the mirror, trying to see what other people see, the more decent things: handsome, rugged, possibly wild… but all he saw were things that he didn’t understand, things that made him feel he wasn’t good enough. Did they really think he was attractive? And if so, why did they always have to bring up that there was something completely unattractive about him before the compliment? And why were those remarks always easier to believe? Or was it all just some weird fantasy they felt dirty about having? And was being rude behind his back some sort of justification for that guilt? Was it all of the above? And most importantly, did you think any of this?

Next Saturday, a week after you told him you were ready, the town gathered in the church during the evening for the monthly communal meal. This was something that started during the rehabilitation of Alexandria, another thing that the population was getting too big to contain, but Rick and Judith liked it. So, Michonne agreed to keep it— for now— despite reasoning that “this is what holidays are for, Rick.”

It was about an hour in, 6pm, and sunset now past. Some people who had been busy working were still filing in, little by little, but for the most part, a majority of citizens were seated, eating, and chatting. There was a steady rain outside that made everything smell fresh, and if it wasn’t for all the chatter, you could even possibly hear the light drumming on the church walls. Everyone was quite pleased about it— an early spring was approaching.

Daryl had not come to see you last night and left early this morning so you didn’t know where he went or what he did, but what you did know for certain is that he never carried an umbrella. Therefore, when he finally arrived, 30 minutes later, his hair was soaked, and since he didn’t even wear his jacket, the long sleeves of his shirt were drenched with water droplets sticking to his vest and shoes that sloshed and left wet footprints on the wooden floor.

Obvious to say, he was noticed by all.

There is a fine line with Daryl between not giving a fuck about how he was perceived, and caring far too much while not willing to do anything about it, and of course, with all that has happened in the past few weeks, it was the ladder. He hated being the center of attention, but it was hard for him to not be noticeable, it never was, especially now. He felt ridiculous.

As he walks onto the stage– where all the tables of food are placed– you follow him.

“Hi,” you say next to him.

“Hi,” he replies, calling you by your nickname kindly enough, but not ever looking at you.

“You know, I think Rick was hoping you were coming back on time. I don’t know why he put all that stuff on his chair if it wasn’t for you or Michonne and Michonne sat with me.”

He simply nods, humming as acknowledgment.

“Daryl,” you move to the other side of the table as he gathers his food so he can look at you. Quietly you say, “We don’t have to talk about it now, but– I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable the other day. Or if it was about the night before, you just have to tell me.” You poke his shoulder, “You’re acting weird and you know it.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” is all he grumbles.

“But I still want to say I’m sorry if I did.”

Daryl quickly finds some napkins to dry his hands and wrists with and comes over to place them on the sides of your head to kiss you there. “You ain’t got anything to be sorry about. Alright? I’m fine.” His hands drop and holds you by the neck for a moment, the movement makes some water droplets bleed onto your clothes, you feel it but you say nothing. The only thing Daryl notices from you is that your eyes look almost identical to his despite the differing color– his mood is affecting yours, but he doesn’t know what to say right now to make you feel better so he opts for something he always know is true, “You’re perfect. You know that right?” And I’m just fuckin’ weirdo, he wants to add, but he doesn’t.

You were smiling at him. He doesn’t get it. He looked like an idiot all soaking wet and you were smiling at him. There couldn’t be a better reaction, but still, it’s moments like this where he can’t believe you’re real. All you say is “Okay,” never taking a compliment, just like him, instead of finding a way to break-up with him like he always nearly suspects. “Come to me when you finish, alright? We can leave if you want?”

“Alright,” he responds and you leave him be.

As Daryl goes down the rows of tables picking out what he wants, he heads to the last one. The way the event was set up was that everyone who came early had the opportunity to take a seat at one of the four tables that were placed along each corner of the stage and the rest sat in the pews, but despite the higher vantage point the stage gave, that did not mean Daryl couldn’t hear what those around the stage were saying around him— as always. It must be a hunter’s ear or something.

“Be careful,” a woman says smirking, her eyes gesturing to Daryl. “Let’s hope he doesn’t wet us.” The friend in front of her snickers, looking back to see that Daryl is now by the table just above theirs. Whispering, the first woman continues, shaking her head, “I don’t know how Rick or the girl put up with it. She just acted like nothing was wrong. He’s mudding up the whole damn church!”

Daryl keeps his back turned. This ends up being his last straw. “How about you shut the fuck up,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?”

Louder, facing no one in particular he yells, “Why does everyone act like I don’t got ears?”

You look up, synchronized with everyone in the church and get up with Rick who is already slowly approaching him, but Michonne yanks you down.

“What is your problem?”

To that, he turns back to the woman, “How ‘bout you say what you said again and stop talking shit under your breath.”

“What?”

“I said,” he starts yelling again, “if you got somethin’ to say about me lady, say it to ma’ face. That’s what I said.”

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Rick asks almost warningly, but not before someone yells, “Who the fuck are you talking to, man?” from one of the aisles in the back. It was her husband, now standing from his seat. He and his wife make eye contact, and instantly he’s moving closer.

Daryl walks to the edge of the front stage, barking a quick “move” without any pause and Eugene and Siddiq violently bob their heads and grab their plates as Daryl steps on the table and jumps to the floor.

Rick tries to push him back but it’s no use, Daryl pushes him in return and he and the husband are charging at each other, speaking over each other: “What did you say to my wife?” “Told her to shut the fuck up. Thought I said it loud enough–” “Nah, man you were mumblin’ like always–” “Or d’you need me to say it louder with ma garbage disposal mouth?” Daryl pushes him, “Huh?” “I’m not fighting you, man.” But Daryl persists, getting in the man’s face, their noses almost touching. He whispers, “You know, maybe your wife’s got everyone’s name in her mouth because she don’t fuckin’ like you.” The man keeps shaking his head, but Daryl surprises him, he isn’t the only one the town gossips about. “She’s fucking Mark,” he tells him. That was true, and people knew it. “He’s your friend, ain’t he? Maybe that’s why she’s always–” But no, not him, her husband did not know, so he punches, straight in the eye. Daryl almost smiles as he takes the next swing.

The two are tussling, but not for long as Rick takes the chance to get Daryl from behind, taking him away with Gabriel’s help. “You done?” Rick asks as Gabriel holds him on the other side, His grip honestly does nothing though and Daryl shrugs him off. Poor Gabe looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm to see the church– practically his church– in such disarray.

With that, and with Daryl raging too much to contain, he shrugs Rick off and stomps out.

Michonne finally takes her hand off of your wrist and you make you way to leave too. As you walk, you look back to Rick who is already trying to follow, and wordlessly tell him that it’s your turn now, then, turn to awkwardly dodge the people still standing in the aisle and collect your things to go.

Daryl was not hard to find. It almost made you think he wanted to be found or knew you’d go after him— he’s being such a child today. Despite the town lights, you hold out your flashlight to find him sits on a tree stump on the edge of town next to one of his favorite trees. The leaves did a terrible job of covering him from anything but you knew he didn’t care. It was almost laughable honestly. Still, you take pity, he was yours and you were concerned. “I know you don’t care about getting wet,” you say with no malice or disappointment in your voice, “but all that water in your shoes can cause blisters. You didn’t even wear the ones that don’t have holes.”

He just shakes his head, as always, and water droplets fall from the tips of his hair.

“Remember when that happened to me and you drained them with needles even though Saddiq told us not to?”

He stares at you, stone-faced for a moment. “You’re the one who told me to do it.”

“Because they hurt really bad!”

“You were being a baby.”

“Really?” You ask ironically. “So if I’m the baby why are you acting like one right now? It’s been raining since morning, Daryl! Not even a jacket? You’re obviously upset about something but I’m not going to continue this with you in the rain, looking like a sad, wet puppy.”

He sneered at the comment, wet.

“Let’s just go home, okay? Let me take you.”

“We don’t live together.”

You frown. “Don’t be mean, Daryl,” you gently warn. “You know what I mean.”

You hold your hand out for him, water collecting in your palm as you wait. It was more of a gesture than actual help as you two were still a few feet away from each other. “Please? You could have already ran away on your bike or gone home and locked your door but you didn’t. I don’t know what’s going on but don’t act like I don’t know you.”

Reluctantly, he gets up, walking to you in almost slow motion. You wish you could call him the drama queen he is right now, but it was time to get out of this rain– you would hold it in for the time being.

As you enter the small place, you make no conversation. You simply get to work and he doesn’t stop you. You take off your rain jacket and boots, then you take off his vest and boots. You drag him to his room and hang up your sweater and take off your jewelry, then you empty his pant pockets. Finally, you hold his hand as he trails behind you and into the bathroom. You unbutton his shirt and unzip his pants and place them all in the hamper. He takes off his underwear and helps you take off your clothes too. When you’re done, you turn on the water and go in, he follows. You bathe and wash his hair in silence. You are tender and gentle, and he knows it, he appreciates it, but his mind is loud, and angry, and he feels so pathetic as you wash him like he’s 5 years old. You turn around to start washing yourself as he takes care of cleaning his legs and lower area. After he’s done, all he can do is look at you, your body, the soft humming you can’t help but do when you shower. It’s exactly as he said, you’re perfect. He wants to bang his head against the wall because of it.

When you two finish, you sit on his bed, wearing one of his white shirts and a pair of boxers, he wears the same except his bottoms are sweatpants. He hates these kinds of casual clothes actually, he’s only okay with wearing it sometimes, but he has nothing else at the moment. All he had to do was give his clothes to Carol to wash, but he didn’t. He hasn’t really done anything this week.

“Ms. Ellen is a bitch.” You finally say, giving him an ice pack for his eye. “And so is Mr. Gary and they both have the whiteness names in the world. And they’re both lazy as fuck and reek of nepotism because they only had one of the biggest houses and biggest egos in Alexandria because they were friends with Deanna and they’re still bitter that their house being destroyed in the fire— which I get— but it’s not okay that she uses her bitterness to talk shit about everyone. And it’s also not okay that you used your anger to fight someone who didn’t deserve it. That wasn’t like you.”

“Maybe it is. You didn’t always know me.”

“Well, sure, can act like a tough—”

“I don’t act like anything—”

“Fine, I’ll change it: Can you be a tough guy? Yeah. But do you pick fights and make big scenes in front of the kids like that? No, you don’t.” You stare at him, tapping him on the knee and forcing him to look at you. “You not talking is obviously not working, Daryl. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

He takes a moment. “I just—”

“What?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” he finally says lowly.

“I don’t think you could,” you answer, “I’m not even now, I’m just frustrated. Or confused really. Why do you think you would?”

He lowers his ice pack, “Cause I’m not fuckin’ Rick.”

You laugh a little. “Well, I did have my suspicions, but great, that’s good to know. I’m glad you’re not fucking Rick.”

He sucks his teeth. “Be serious.”

“Have you not realized I’ve been trying to be? For weeks now? It obviously doesn’t work.” Both of you look down as you continue, “And I finally tell you how I feel and what I want and you just leave and barely talk to me for the rest of the week. And before you even mention coming into my bed at night or saying goodnight or good morning to me and telling me what you’ll do that day, that’s not talking, it's just saying stuff. At some point I can’t always chalk it up to Oh, that’s just Daryl; at some point, a person starts thinking that they're the problem. That I’m the problem! That I’m not good enough.”

A tear falls down your cheek involuntarily, then another; you were clenching your jaw after you finished speaking but it was no use. After everything, all the bullshit and the girls and the punch to his eye that really fucking hurt even though it was his fault he got it, this is actually the worst thing that has happened to Daryl in the past months– making you cry.

“You’re more than good enough,” he says in his mumble, still not looking at you. “I’m just stupid.”

“You’re not stupid!” You yell frustratingly as you wipe tears away. “Stop talking down about yourself!”

Daryl looks off into the window. He wants to speak, he does. The words are all on the tip of his tongue but they cannot come out, they never do. As he watches you wipe away your last tears, he thinks everyone is right, that that guy is right, he has a garbage mouth, his voice is poison. He never makes any sense and he always says the wrong thing. Why speak anyway?

“I can’t help you or at least try to understand if you don’t say anything. I know it's hard— I don’t like doing it either. I was scared to tell you what I did last week. But it just starts with one thing.”

“It's too hard to.”

“But I’ve never judged you, right? ”

He shakes his head. You haven’t.

“The first thing that comes to your mind when I say, ‘what’s wrong?’, what is it? Just say it. I don’t care what it is. I’m not going to judge you, I’m not going to say you’re wrong, anything—”

“People think I’m ugly,” he interrupts, “I’ve heard them say it.”

Your eyes widen, in shock for him and in shock that people could still care about such stupid things right now. “Who said that to you?”

He shakes his head. “That’s why I mentioned Rick. No one says stuff like that about Rick.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be like Rick and you don’t have to be.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

He gestures to himself, slapping his hands on his thighs, “Look at me.”

There’s something about the way his hand then reaches to cover his eyes in frustration, the way he slides it down to scratch his beard, accidentally magnifying to you the wisps of salt and pepper among the brown that gives you a clue to what he means. “I’m not some little girl, and I haven’t been for a long time.”

“I know, but you’re not my age either. And I don’t always think about you when it comes to it, it’s about me- I think about me.”

“So what about it? When it comes to the hair on your head and your eyes and the way you talk— that has nothing to do with how old you are, that’s just who you are. You didn’t choose to look as you do. And you and Rick have always looked the same age if I have to mention him, and his beard is whiter than yours at this point. Neither of you look old, or bad.” Your words do nothing so far. “You also have a better build than plenty of people in town. You’re stronger too.”

“But when they talk about Rick, all they say is that he talks too much and that he’s bossy and hardass and at least that’s true.”

You couldn’t help but smile, almost laughing a bit at that. It kind of was true.

“I’ve never heard anyone say things about him the way they say about me. Never anything about how he looks. But when they talk about me— they think I’m a fuckin’ animal.” There is silence after this. The word wild lingers in his mind and animal in yours. Again you want to ask, who could say that and have they not realized all Daryl has done for this place? Then, the more you listen, the more you realize that hidden beneath those with endless respect are some with hearts of cruelty and minds stuck in the regular old world ways that don’t exist anymore. “And sometimes, when I think about why you like me, I think that maybe it’s despite other things.”

“Despite?”

“Despite.” He practically spits.

“We all have bad qualities though. We’re not perfect.”

“I mean that I’m not some regular good looking guy.”

“Why would I want regular?” Your smile fades as his sad eyes persist. “Daryl, I can’t change your mind or make you feel the way I do about you, but why can’t you trust that I like you, and that I want to be around you? And that I’m,” you blush, “very attracted to you and I’ve felt like an embarrassing teenage girl the past few months waiting and trying to get you to have sex with me!” Quietly you say, “Have you not realized how much I really want you? How much I care? Everyday I feel lucky.”

He can’t take it. “Guess it’s like you said— can’t believe it if I don’t see it myself.”

His mouth is screwed shut, his throat tight, but just like you, it’s no use, a tear rolls down his cheek. Immediately you hug him. He holds you tightly in return and even though it makes your ribs hurt a little, you let him. All of this makes you see how much you two are alike than you’ve ever realized.

“You know,” you say into his hair, “there was this one time, I was up super early and couldn’t go back to sleep so I went out for a walk. I passed by Olivia’s house and she waved me over from her window and asked me if I could help her restock the pantry before Rick came later in the day to check it because she had this huge migraine. Well, that turned into me doing the whole thing for her. She said she was going inside for a break and some water and the next thing I know she’s asleep on her couch! And you know how her niece lives with her? I guess she runs in the morning and while I was finishing up, her and her friend lean up against one of the garage doors and I hear them talking. I was just about to open the door to leave but then she says, ‘She’s sweet but kind of a kiss-ass, right? Like a try-hard?’ And then her friend goes, ‘Yeah, she really wants to be one of them,’ ‘But all she is, is just Daryl’s little girlfriend.’” Daryl lets go to face you, his eyes incredulous just as yours were when he said someone called him ugly. “And then they started saying how I insert myself into places or something, so thought if I came out right then and they see me having done Olivia’s job for her… I didn't want them to get an up-close look of them being right. So I waited until they went in the house and then I left and for the whole rest of the week I was upset because I thought I was becoming friends with those girls but really I wasn’t, and I questioned if Rick and Michonne or Rosita or Glenn and Maggie even thought of me as a friend because they actually like me or if I’m even good enough to be one or if it’s only because I’m associated to you that they care to talk to me. I felt pathetic too.” You pause. “So, I’m really sorry, Daryl. You don’t deserve to feel like you’re being picked on in the town you live in— in the place you helped create.”

“It ain’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t make a difference. I should have said something.”

“You didn’t have to. I wanted that to happen.”

“But I wish I knew. Cause I would have if I knew. I feel like I let Michonne stop me because I didn’t understand. And all I’m saying is whether I've had it as bad as you or not, I do get it. And I’m angry for you. And you don’t have to be embarrassed to tell me things like this. It was dumb of me to keep my feelings in, just like you do with everything.”

Daryl swipes his hair to the side, parts of it are dry and waving while other areas are still wet, making him think about the rat joke. “No one likes you because of me,” he says. “You’re likable because you’re you and you care. And fuck those dumb-ass girls. They’re idiots for saying that.” He rubs your thigh. “I didn’t say anything the other day because when we were in the shower the night before I,” God, he feels stupid, “I got hard and you saw it and I realized it was the first time you saw it like that before and, I don’t know, I got scared.”

“Did you think that I’d think you’re ugly?”

“I don’t know.”

“Daryl,” you tisk, “after the amount of times we’ve showered together already?”

He gets defensive, “I don’t know! Felt different.”

“People usually get excited to know their partner is excited because of them.”

“I just feel like you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Why do you always think that? I don’t have any expectations. I just want you to show me you love me.” You begin to look nervous, “I want to feel wanted too.”

“But I do… I do want you.”

“Then show me.”

“I don’t know how.”

You try to think, “Daryl— what is it that you picture when- when you want to do it?”

“I picture you,” he says simply.

“You do?” Your face is immediately warm.

He laughs, “Of course I do.”

“Well what do I do? Or what do you do to me?”

“Depends.”

“Pick one,” you say, almost desperately.

“Sometimes it just starts with what we always do. Kissin’. Maybe you’re on top of me.”

You waste no time; you get on top of him.

“And I press you down.” Daryl’s hands are now heavy on your hips, your hands are on his chest, you rock into him slowly.

“And sometimes I think about you bouncing on me or-” he pauses, the way you rock and the way he pushes up to you hitting a perfect spot of friction that makes the both of you gasp.

“Say it,” you tell him.

“I’m fucking you from behind. Or you're on the bottom and I’m going hard or being all gentle and shit like you but I don’t know how.”

“You know we can do all that, right?”

Daryl is red. Both you and him are surprised at yourself, but his bashfulness almost brings it out of you naturally. And honestly, your jacked and grumpy dilf boyfriend has left you repressed for far too long— you’re horny.

Suddenly, you move yourself onto one of his thighs and start palming his bulge as you rock. “Do I do this in your dreams?”

He almost groans, “Now you do.”

You move yourself from his thigh and lay down to start kissing him. He reciprocates, grabbing your face and pulling you close. Daryl starts nipping at your neck and you try your hardest not to yelp so he won’t stop. As you two continue, your slick starts to wet his boxers and you press your legs together as he gets harder under his sweatpants.

“Have you ever noticed how wet I get when we kiss?”

“Only at night,” it’s hard for his words to come out as you continue palming him, “when you don’t have clothes on.”

“And you never did anything about it?” You whine. “Do you know how bad I need you? How much I think about you?”

“I think about you more.”

“You do?

“Yes.” Daryl swallows, whimpering a little. You now stroke him, his dick riding up against his thigh, and it feels too good. “What- What do I do in your dreams?”

“You lay me on the bed and put your dick in me and fuck me and it feels amazing,” you say between hot breaths. “And you’re not scared to do it.”

“I wanna do it.”

“So, please, Daryl, do it. I want it so bad.”

Daryl uses your words as courage. He takes you off of him and goes over you.

You both take off your shirts and he strips you from his boxers and him from his sweatpants.

Finally, without regret or without him turning away you see his cock stand. It’s proud, meaty, and you can’t lie, a little scary, but you’ll never tell him, even if your widening eyes give you away. It’ll fit, you assure yourself. You won’t be afraid.

“You okay?” He asks, timidity setting in again.

But you nod assuredly. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

You pout, he’s stalling. “When you look at me, what do you see?”

“Beautiful.”

“And you're handsome. No pretenses. No exceptions.” You come up on your knees to face him, kissing his lips softly. “It’s like we said, we’ve dreamed about this.”

You lay down again, and Daryl places his hands on your inner thighs to spread them, making space for himself. You watch as takes hold of himself, mouth agape and pumping himself a few times as he stares at your body before slowly entering you. Your pussy is drooling at the sight.

Your eyes instantly close and scrunch. Although it worries Daryl, he’s glad you’ve shut them so he can continue looking up and down— up at your face to see if you’re in pain and down as he watches his cock enter you for the first time. You were incredibly tight to him, tighter than he ever imagined, he wasn’t used to this feeling and he liked it, a lot. It made his stomach clench and all his muscles flex as his breathing gets heavier, trying to stop the possibility of him moaning at the sight of it all.

“Are you okay?”

It was big and there was something about it that felt good but it hurt, the stretch indescribable, but you nod and tell him, “I like it,” because that was true, and everything else felt like too much to explain right now, your thoughts almost dissipating.

“You sure?”

You just nod again, whining.

“Alright,” he says, putting his hands on the bed to start.

Once more your eyes screw shut. He almost takes himself out before he pushes back into you again. He doesn’t know if he went slow enough but he tried. Your eyes wrinkling because of how hard you closed them doesn’t help though. He wants to tell you to relax but he’s not even relaxed himself to even make it sound believable.

He tries again, not going so far out this time and slowly goes back in to the hilt again, so slowly in fact he thinks that must have been awkward for you. He stops, tries one more time, then stops again. Your sounds seem like you’re hurt. He knows you’ll say it’s just pain and adjustment to his size but he instantly perceives it as disgust. He knows it’s not, but he can’t help it, he can’t. He must be ‘too much’; ‘too big,’ that’s what it is. Those are things he has heard in porn tapes Merle used to give him or things he noticed in porno mags he maybe used to read that he had found in a store near Hershel’s farm all those years ago, and supposedly it was a good thing for it to be too much, but now, look at you: you were in pain. And it was taking everything in him not to ram into you. He felt pathetic, again. Stupid, again. Like he didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he should just withdraw right now, clean you up, try to give you a sympathetic look through his hair that said he was sorry for defiling you and not even make you feel an ounce of pleasure in the process. Everyone was right, he is a joke.

“Daryl,” you say, looking up at him, “you don’t have to keep stopping for me. I just need to relax and you just need to be slow. I think I can take it.”

“I know,” he responds, kissing your forehead.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him. “Do what feels right to you. You have to trust me to tell you if it hurts or not.”

He almost laughs at that. You think he’s so strong; that he has all the power. It’s so strange to him.

Daryl puts his head in the crux of your neck, closes his eyes, and tries again. He holds your waist, thumb on your ribs and the other fingers on your back as he pushes his hips into you.

You hug his chest and feel all of it. “Make yourself feel good Daryl, it’s gonna feel so good to me if you do that, I promise.” After his 4th small pump you let out a whiny moan of relief. “Oh- okay- keep going.”

Daryl moves his elbows to the bed by your head and starts pushing his hips against you, finding a rough yet steady rhythm. He loves the slapping sound your bodies are making and can’t help but speed up. He goes deeper and you start moaning. He already feels he’s losing himself. He tries to kiss you to slow down, but realizes he can’t plow into you the same way he just found out he likes. He goes back to it and he starts grunting and groaning— there is a part of him that is embarrassed by it but it just feels so good. “Are you gonna come?” He asks between sharp thrusts.

“Don’t focus on that,” you tell him. “Stay like this. Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, he really can’t think of anything anymore than continuing to pump himself in you so he does. You try your best to rock up into him, but he has full control, his hands on your hips still as tight as ever as he pushes into you, making you and the bed bounce at his mercy.

You’re more than fine with it all. Even better, you couldn’t believe this meant that Daryl was about to come inside you. Something in you knew it was about to happen. It was the way he placed his elbows by your head and started cursing and ramming into you harder and even whimpered in your ear and gave you these little puppy kisses there before getting back to it. You were surprised by how noisy he was but you didn’t dare say a word other than panting and whining back into him so he’d continue, even in moments when it felt too much and too hard. He was forgetting all his doubts and that was the goal right now. You lock your legs around his hips and tell him, “You feel amazing inside me. My handsome man,” and that does it, “Oh, fuck,” he says as he releases every last drop of himself inside you.

Now, as he slows down, he looks at you, thumb on your bottom lip and chin as he tries his best to keep rolling his hips on you as he comes down from his high, but you ask, “Will you kiss me down there, Daryl? I’ve always wanted that.”

“You don’t want me to make you come?”

“I think it’ll happen if you do it like that. I just want to know what it feels like.”

He stops for a moment deciding if this means he’s failed or not, but he simply says, “Okay,” all kindly and nodding like it was your idea even though it was because this means another one of his dreams were coming true.

Instantly, he’s licking you, feeling more assured of what he could do— this was one of his most vivid fantasies so even though he doesn’t know for sure, he thinks he’s got.

“Oh, oh my god,” his tongue is bringing up wetness to your clit and sucking on it, “that’s good.” He starts licking your clit, going fast, “Daryl, that’s so good.”

He looks up at you, dazed already, “Yeah?”

“Oh, yes.” You fix his hair and he loves the feeling. Truly, he was going a little too fast actually, going up and down and this way and that way too much, but the sounds his mouth and your pussy were making together were too glorious. You let him go, you let him be proud, and either way, you’re whining and moaning because of it. He’s perfectly imperfect and he doesn’t even know it. But you’re too in love with the feeling of him to explain what that means right now so all you say is what he told you about yourself in the church, “I think you’re just perfect.”

To that, he stops again and he looks up at you, smiling. It’s one of those rare ones he seldom does, teeth and all, and your slick coating his lips all the while. His eyes are shining, and he gives you the smallest, sweetest, most innocent kiss to the most obscene place on your body— your clit.

At this point all your sounds have been short, quiet, filled with whines but to this, you moan at the sight, full and loud. It’s involuntary. It’s pornographic. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard in his life. His cock stirs, springing up again as he goes back to giving you your first and forever the most slobberiest head of your life.

After a while he beckons you from below, “Hey, angel,” he calls.

“Mm,” you respond lightly. You’re nearly blissed out. He’s going to make you come.

“I think those girls were right.”

Your eyes become so cute yet so sad— you just want him on you again. “What do you mean?”

“You are sweet. Sweetest thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Oh,” you whisper, moaning again as he goes back to licking your clit. “Oh. Fuck.”

He starts licking and kissing your puffy lips, making wet sounds with his tongue, slurping little bits of you where he can. He loves how slick and noisy your pretty pussy is. Your clit throbs and he hums into it all dark and grumbled and husky going, “Mmmmmm.”

You tell him, “God, it’s so good, Daryl.” To which he responds, referring to a different it, “And it’s mine.”

Oh, so he’s cocky now? Well, that’s new for him. You lay back at the thought, at the feeling, reveling in delight.

Here he is, finally.

[carlmipololo]

Guess.

Carl Grimes x fem!reader

Smut, oral sex f!receiving, fingering, car sex, semi public(? clothed eating out and all that jazz. Based on Guess by Charli XCX and Billie Eilish.

Sexuality was something you hadn't explored much, but if you knew something it was that girls were definitely your treat, not that guys weren't attractive to you, but there was something way more appealing about women than men to you.

You had told this to your best friend, except you decided not to let him know about the guys, the young Grimes was accepting of you, how could he not be? You were his best friend, but the disappointment was inevitable for him. Everyone knew, everyone except you, who was oblivious to Carl's obvious interest in you, he was pretty hormonal, and you were pretty, oh hell, he'd be lying if he said he didn't think you were the hottest girl around for him. He'd be lying if he said he had never found himself with his hand down his pants after letting his mind linger on the thought of you bending down to pick something up way longer than it should.

Carl was a hormonal mess. And so were you.

Going on runs was something you did pretty often, and while you waited for Rosita, Tara and Eugene in the van Carl and you came up with something to keep yourselves entertained.

"Okay, so, guessing each other's underwear color? Sounds easy." Of course it was easy, Carl would never suggest something he knew he couldn't win easily.

"Yeah, pretty easy, right? Take your guess, ladies first." He says, trying to keep a straight face, to not let his lips curve up in the cocky grin he was holding back, trying not to give himself away.

You hummed while thinking, you had seen the color of the elastic on Carl's boxers before, it couldn't be that hard, right?

"I'll go with grey. Are they grey?"

Carl chuckled as he shakes his head, amused. "Nope, try again."

After your fair share of tries and repeatedly getting it wrong you were done, letting out a frustrated huff, which was just amusing him even more, a big grin plastered on those pretty lips of his, you had to admit, he was hot when he acted this cocky, but he was also annoying.

"Okay Carl, then why don't you guess the color of mine?"

That was all he wanted to hear, he took his time, leaning in closer, his hot breath against your skin as he whispered in your ear. "I don't have to guess the color of your underwear, I saw it as soon as you sat down."

You gasp, your breath stuck in your throat as soon as he says that, his attitude finally making sense, you wanted to be angry, of course you did, but you couldn't help the way his demeanor and closeness was making you hot, you couldn't help the way your panties sticks to your aching pussy as your slickness wets them.

"What color are they then?" Your voice was way shakier than you intended, and Carl was enjoying it, his hands trailing their way up your thighs. Was he being way too impulsive right now? Of course, he knew he was. Were his hormones allowing him to stop and think it through? Hell no.

"Pink lace, quite pretty by the way... I know you like girls but..." His soft lips brush against your ear, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "You know I'd hit it, right?"

His voice is soft and husky as he says that, his hands sneaking under the hem of your shorts, feeling the warm skin, his lips trailing down to your neck, you couldn't help it, you wanted him to keep going, and the way your hands were gripping at his flannel gave it away.

"Carl...?"

He hums softly in response, his lips latched to your neck, soft kisses and occasional suction that drew pretty moans out your lips. "Want me to stop?"

Your head shakes almost frantically, not wanting him to stop at all, his grin widens against your neck as he lets go of your thighs, one of his hands moving your shorts to the side, his fingers finding your clothed clit, rubbing tiny firm circles over it, earning a myriad of moans from you, already sensitive and responsive.

He can't bite back the smirk on his lips as he lets go of your neck, his lips finding yours quickly, his mouth devouring yours, tongues dancing with each other as he slides his fingers under your wet underwear, sliding a finger inside you. Basically devouring every single moan he coaxes out of you, a second finger adding shortly after as he pumps them in and out, his thumb rubbing over your bundle of nerves to add to the feeling even more.

Carl sucks on your tongue gently, breaking the kiss and taking his fingers out as soon as he senses you're getting close, gummy walls clenching around his fingers continuously. "Why did you stop?" Your voice is breathless and shaky, and he loves he's the cause of it, he shows you the two fingers he previously had inside of you, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he licks them clean, drunken by the taste of your juices. "So fuckin' good, I need to taste you for real."

The cowboy quickly makes his way down to your legs, kissing at your thighs and nibbling on them gently as he props your legs open and over his shoulders, wet lips and tiny love bites being imprinted on your inner thighs as he finally faces your clothed pussy, he takes in the scent, so tempting, he's the hardest he's ever been, but he tries brushing it off and focus on you, his hand moving the shorts away, but he leaves you panties in place, admiring the wet patch on them that makes the baby pink fabric slightly translucent, drawing out the outline of your folds.

"M'gonna make you feel good, pretty girl."

His voice is husky as he leans into you, pressing a soft kiss over your clothed clit, making you jolt as a shiver runs down your spine, he holds your hips down with his hands, a low laugh from him rumbling through your folds as he starts making out with your clothed cunt, tongue lapping at the fabric that sticks to you, now wet in your slickness and his spit, the feeling is enough to have you gaping, gasping for air as he pleases you over your clothes, hands reaching for his hair as you watch the windows of the van fog lightly, back arching slightly as your cheeks become reddened and eyes look glazy.

Carl decides to finally give into his own temptation, moving the panties to the side and finally tasting you fully, his tongue tracing a line up your slit before he starts lapping at your wet cunt relentlessly, making your eyes roll back as you tighten your hold on his hair, mumbling sweet nothings into the air as you whimper in a way that makes Carl almost come in his pants as he hears you, loving the way you taste on his mouth.

"C-Carl, I'm close..."

His tongue keeps moving as you say that, sucking gently on your clit, knowing that he wants to make a mess out of you, to make you come undone under his touch in such a way you will never want anyone else to do those things to you, so he quickly inserts his two fingers again, curving them up to search for your G spot, finding it easily as you almost scream the moment he presses on it, shaky hands tugging at his hair, he continues eating you out like it was his last chance to do it ever, enjoying every single second of it as he fingers you, coaxing your walls open each time you tighten around him, knowing you're about to cum in his mouth.

"C'mon pretty girl, come for me."

He whispers and quickly dips his tongue back into your folds, relishing in the feeling of your body squirming and arching under his touch as you finally come hard, a loud moan leaving your lips as you close your eyes, mind completely blank, Carl is quick to drink your juices, the ones he earned with his own mouth and fingers, he gently takes his fingers out of you and fixes your panties and shorts back to normal, smiling at how fucked out you look, so pretty because of him.

"The color of my underwear, the ones you couldn't guess, wanna find out later?"

"Bet."

He smiles at you, leaning in for a quick kiss, making you look presentable again before the others return, sitting back straight again as the rest of the little group gets back inside the van, Tara looks back at you both, smiling, "Did you guys get bored waiting? It took us longer than we thought." Carl shakes his head quickly, a satisfied smirk on his face. "What did you do to entertain yourselves?"

"A little guessing game, it can be way more entertaining than you think."

I'm dead

Tags: @crxssbowcarl @lunarnightt @carlsangel @aurasplanet @herrera2k @hiro--aoki @girlthatsinsane

[lunajay33]

Too Young

Summary: Pre Apocalypse, you’re Daryl’s secret girlfriend and you find you’re self in a predicament at a young age

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

Looking down at the positive pregnancy test my heart is racing, how could this have happened we were always so careful the few times we were together, no body knew of our relationship, too scared of what his brother and father would do, and what my family would think as they thought the Dixons were scum

Daryl always treated me like a angel from the moment we met on our first day of school and over time we grew closer than just friends and now here I am pregnant

What will he think? Will it be too much and he’ll leave? Should I just rip the bandaid off and just tell him to get it over with before my anxiety runs rampant? Yes I think that’s best

We already had a date to met at our usual spot at the dock along the lake, I get in some shorts and one of his hoodies and make my way, the pregnancy test in my pocket, feeling like a brick

As I get closer I see him stood at the end waiting for me, as he hears me approaching he turns and his face brightens immediately and it kills me this might be the reason everything will change between us, I feel my lip wobble and I wrap my arms around his waist feeling him hold me close

“Angel what’s wrong, ya okay?” I shake my head pulling back looking up at him

“I……I don’t wanna tell you, promise you won’t leave me D” he looks panicked now never seeing me like this before

“Ya know I wouldn’” he brushes my hair back and I can’t help but lean into his touch

“I thought we were careful but……I’m pregnant” he goes completely still and just stares at me

“Please say something” I suck in a sharp breath feeling faint as my knees shake

“It’ll be okay” he whispers pulling me back in, we sit in silence on the dock for an hour as he just holds me

•

“Should we tell people? Nobody even knows we are together” I say quietly still scared of I talk too much he’ll run away

“Why don’t we run away”

“We can’t Daryl, we have family and no money and I’m scared, my family will be mad at first but they’ll still help us”

“Will they after they know yer carrying a Dixon?” He lifts an eyebrows knowing how my family isn’t fond of his

I sigh placing my hand where a bump will soon be

“I don’t want you to resent me when we get older and you feel stuck to me and the baby, I don’t wanna become our parents”

“Ya never could get rid of me, we’ve been eachothers from the moment we met and this baby ain’t changin that”

“We can figure this out right?”

“It’ll be fine Angel, I love ya”

“I love you too Daryl”

•

It’s been 3 months and we still haven’t told anyone too scared of what could happen but he’s been extra sweet to me, bringing me wild flowers when we meet, extra touchy always wanting to hold my hand or just be able to have his hand somewhere on me like he was protecting me incase anything happens

I woke up this morning looking in the mirror and I’ve finally popped my bump was showing through my shirt a little more obviously a baby and not just fat

I pulled on Daryl’s hoodie again because it’s my favorite thing to wear like I always had him there with me, covering my bump as best I could I walk out into the living room and my parents and brother are sat on the couch quietly

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know why don’t you tell us?” My dad says shooting daggers at me

“I…..what?”

“Merle Dixon had a lil chat with me and told me you’ve been messing around with his brother, that right?” My brother asks and I feel like my world is starting to crumble

“I wanted to tell you guys but you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel about them, but Daryl’s nice to me he cares about me”

“Don’t be so stupid sweetie he’s only using you” my mom says condescendingly

“He’s not like Merle or his father, he’s kind you know I wouldn’t be with someone like Merle” they all laugh in my face and I can’t take it, I run to my room packing a bag and leaving running out the front door before they could stop me and going straight to Daryl’s

I get to the trailer house and knock anxiously playing with my fingers

“And what’s a fine piece of ass like ya doin here” merle answers making me scoff

“Where’s Daryl” he opens the door wider and lets me in, I make my way to his room thankful his dad isn’t here, seeing him laid on his bed, I close the door behind me and slump down next to him

“Hey sunshine what’s goin on?”

“Merle told my brother that we’re together, my parents know I can’t be there anymore” he runs his hand up and down my arm calming me

“Dumb ass, imma kill him”

“What’re we gonna do?”

“I have an aunt down south, she’ll take us for a bit she’s a nice woman”

“Are you sure” he nods packing a bag and taking my hand leading me out to his truck

“We’ll be okay, I promise”

[twd-bee3]

Peach Cobbler

Summary: Carol had asked the Dixons to bring something to the next group dinner which means that you are baking while Daryl dicks around in the kitchen.

Warnings/Tags: domestic!daryl, married pair, pure fluff, wife!reader (she/her), season seven, no use of y/n

Word count: 520

A/N: After writing a bunch of angst, which will be posted later, I needed a lighter story to write. This was inspired by a prompt from @fromdove, and I had a great time writing it. It felt good to let Daryl have a moment of peace. This is basically just him being childish and terrorizing his wife.

Inside the kitchen, you are measuring different ingredients and peeling the skin off a batch of peaches. Daryl had joined you and was admiring you as you worked. He always thought that you were cute when you focused. Things had finally calmed down in Alexandria, so it was nice to enjoy this small bit of normalcy. For whatever reason, Daryl decided to perch himself up on the counter, and he was absentmindedly swinging his feet. This earned an eye roll from you.

“Why is your dirty ass on my clean counter?”

“Ain't that dirty. I washed up yesterday.”

“Oh, that makes it so much better.”

You were being sarcastic, but you couldn't stop yourself from smiling a little at his antics. As you chopped the peaches, Daryl was taking pieces when you looked away and sneaking bites. He thought that he was being stealthy, but you quickly noticed and lightly swatted his hand away.

“Would you stop that? Ain't gonna be able to make a cobbler if you keep eatin' all the fruit.”

“Can't help it, sweetheart. They're real good.”

You were trying to be stern, but the look on his face and his simple answer made you laugh. He was right, though. These peaches came from Hilltop and they were damn good. You looked over at him and saw that he had gotten peach juice in his beard. You grabbed a nearby kitchen towel and wiped his face while playfully scolding him.

“You're fuckin' ridiculous, y'know that? Like havin' a toddler.”

Squirming, he pretended to be offended and gasped softly. “That ain't fair. I ain't nothin' like a toddler.”

“Whatever. Just stop takin' shit. Especially since you ain't even helpin' me.”

At the idea of having to bake something, Daryl groaned and dramatically slumped against the cabinet that his back had been resting on. You just rolled your eyes again and tried to stifle another laugh. Entertaining this little stunt would only encourage him further.

“See what I mean? You're like an overgrown baby.”

“Am not. Just ain't understandin' why I, the man of the house, should have to bake.”

You knew that he didn't actually believe that, and he was just teasing you, but it always riled you up. That's exactly what your man wanted. Shooting Daryl a playful glare, you softly smacked one of his legs and pointed a finger at him.

“Don't you start with that patriarchal bullshit. I ought to make you get down and bake this cobbler yourself.”

“I was just fuckin' with you, sweetheart. You ain't gotta do all that.”

Despite his protests, you grabbed Daryl's hand and pulled him off the counter. He sighed loudly, but allowed you to drag him over to where you'd been standing. You positioned him in front of the cutting board and handed him the knife.

“Get choppin', dickhead.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Daryl begrudgingly helped his wife prepare and bake the cobbler. He bitched and mumbled the whole time, but he did enjoy spending time with you. Part of him even liked baking, but his stubborn ass was would never admit that.

[wintfleur]

thinking about Daryl Dixon dating a book worm girly . . . they would meet on the Greene farm. She was a good friend of Hershel’s son Shawn, and stayed and lived with the family when the outbreak started. She would spend most of her time with Hershel and Beth or with her face in a book . . . she would like to be alone a lot, having her own spot on the farm away from the house where she could peacefully read and not have to worry about interacting with anyone, a spot that used to be her and Shawn’s . . . also a spot where Daryl decides to set up his own small camp away from everyone . . . well everyone but her. He would be hesitant at first to approach her when he gets back from another search for Sofia, seeing her leaning up against a tree with a thick book in her lap. He’d seen her around a few times in the short amount of time he’s been at the farm, only with Beth or Hershel. He’d ask her what she wants, assuming that she was waiting for him. She’d apologize, saying that she just wanted to be away from everyone, and surprising the both of them he said with a grunt she could stay as long as she didn’t touch his shit or start reading aloud. And for the first time he sees a small smile on her lips . . . but it was quickly covered when she lifted her book up from her lap.

Time-skip to after the farm falls and before they find the prison. They would become closer . . . well as close as two antisocial and closed off people could get. It was more like they found comfort in each other’s silent presence. She was so good at being quiet and finding her way around in the woods that she would often join daryl tracking/hunting. The first time daryl sees her smile since the farm is when he gives her a book he found in the trunk of an abandoned car. Since she couldn’t carry a bunch of books since they were traveling, every time she was done with a book he’d try and search for another to switch it with . . . would let her quietly mumble about the book she was reading when she couldn’t sleep and he was on watch. Would walk next to her as she walks n reads, making sure she wouldn’t trip.

When they make it to the prison, he’d bring her back multiple books whenever he goes out looking for supplies, and over time the small desk she had in her cell was cluttered with books . . . all from daryl. He would let her ramble about her books whenever they were on watch in the watch tower, him standing up and looking out while she comfortably sat on the floor with her book. He’d realize his feelings for her at the strange and unfamiliar feeling he felt in his chest as he watched her read a book to Carl and Beth who was holding Judith.

Time-skip to when they are now together, he would come back late from his shift at the look out tower in the prison and would check on her in there cell, expecting to see her sleeping since it was late . . . Instead she was curled up in her bed, technically now there bed, reading with a lit candle next to her. Not wanting to sleep without him by her side . . . and wanting to also finish another chapter. Whenever daryl would wake up from a nightmare she would quietly read to him, taking him out of his tortured mind and into the lovely world of her book. Whenever she was too focused on a book he’d surprise her with a kiss on her cheek or lips . . . completely stealing her attention. All she would have to do is bat her eyelashes and say please and daryl would fold . . . reading to her when she’s to tired to read herself, she feels so safe and warm when she’s in his arms as she listens to him read to her . . . he always kisses her forehead when he notices she fell asleep, tucking her bookmark a few pages back, knowing that she probably wouldn’t remember the last few pages he read to her.

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( take this as my application to write for twd !!! I wrote this in 20 minutes at 1am, soo it’s probably not the best I just couldn’t sleep without getting this written down. Please let me know if I should continue writing for twd . . . I’m currently rewatching the show and my love for daryl just grows stronger !!! Again please let me know what you guys think, don’t be a silent reader <333 )

main masterlist twd masterlist

[sleepyangelkami]

Can you make a part 4 for the “ perverted “ Carl grime’s story? (p.s. I love your writing so much 💜 it’s really detailed and neat)

PERVERTED IV c.grimes

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.2K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 A/N: guys i'm so sorry that I took such a huge break this took way longer than it needed, im so sorry !!

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - ever since carl showed you how good it felt to be touched, you'd been iching for more. luckily for you, carl's got one more thing up his sleeve.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, p!v, dom!carl, sub!reader, fingering, mentions of past sexual innuendos, overstimulation, dumbification, kinda public!sex, innocence kink, corruption kink, praise kink, slight coercion, creampie, unprotected sex, virginity loss, virgin!reader, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

series masterlist

ever since that night in the bedroom, you've had this god awful ache between your thighs.

carl, your 'best friend' showed you what you'd been missing out on since the beginning of time. he'd had this funny thing about him, whenever he was around you had the need to palm your hand between your thighs. and now was the worst of it, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

he wasn't your boyfriend but he'd kissed you on a number of occasions. he's not your boyfriend but he kissed below your panties too.

you didn't seem to care much about the whole 'boyfriend' title. besides, everyone in alexandria seemed to know that you were his and he was yours, perhaps they even knew before you two did.

"i'll see you two in the morning." rick grimes, carl's father stood in the doorway. lately, you couldn't seem to look him in the eye. perhaps that had something to do with the fact that last night, his son's hand was down your pants and the night before that, it was up your skirt.

it seemed like you weren't the only one who couldn't stop thinking about it, carl couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself.

"night dad." carl pretended to be uninterested, flicking about a comic book in his hands.

"goodnight, rick." you and carl's sleepovers were becoming much more of a regular thing. rick said nothing but he looked at you with this certain smirk that made you think he knew everything and that was pretty scary.

you didn't get a second to think before the door was closed.

carl was swift in his movements. he discarded the comic book within seconds, tossing it onto the beside locker as he leaned over and pressed his lips on yours.

your eyes fluttered shut with the featherlight feeling, heavy breath falling through your nose. but carl didn't stop with just a kiss, slowly, the boy lowered your body so that your back was flat against the mattress of his bed and those god awful navy bedsheets.

for a moment, your mind went foggy. the pretty kiss of carl grimes was enough to have your head spinning but the sound of distant footsteps was enough to have you spinning all the way back to reality.

"carl." you mumbled in hesitance once his kisses reached the side of your jaw. though his name came out as more of a strangled breath than a word.

"mmhph." he hummed into your neck as he placed hot wet kisses against it, he was aching to kiss you further, to suck the supple skin of your collarbones. he'd showed you what a hickey was not too long ago but he was sure not to leave the evidence on your neck, per your request. you couldn't imagine trying to explain to maggie or glenn how you'd come back from carl's with a hickey on your neck.

"carl." as good as the feeling felt, you sucked in a breath and placed your dainty hands upon his shoulders. he stopped almost immediately, leaning over you to look at your face. "your whole family's here." you absentmindedly picked at the loose thread of his shirt. "they'll hear us."

carl's lips fell into this pitiful smirk. "yeah? well by all means, sweetheart, tell me to stop." you felt his knee buck slightly, rubbing against your clothed cunt that was covered merely by your panties and your pyjama trousers.

carl knew you too well.

matter of fact, carl knew your body too well.

you felt his hot breath against your neck and his lips reattatch to your skin, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses in his wake.

you couldn't help the scratching feeling in the back of your throat, the knawing knot in your stomach that had your hands pawing at his long sleeved shirt, it was difficult to stop when he was making you feel so good.

"carl..." you were in two minds, ask him to stop or ask him to keep going. you felt one of his hands trail down, the soft feeling of his fingers working against your pyjama bottoms, lowering them but not enough to show your panties.

you decided against asking him to stop.

besides, you trusted him. carl knew what was best for the both of you.

"please." you bucked your hips forward, feeling a longing for his fingers all over again. you couldn't get rid of the knawing feeling, his fingers pounding in and out of you, his tongue lapping up your juices and his voice whispering pretty things in your ear.

"yeah? want me to keep going?" you could only nod breathlessly at his words. "tell me how badly you want it, pretty girl."

didn't carl just love to hear you beg.

he'd gotten you to a point where he could mold you to whatever way he wanted you, and hearing you beg for him instead of imagining it in his own mind was something he'd never cease to adore. "please, carl, want it so bad―need it."

"poor girl." you knew his words were nothing short of mockery but you couldn't help but nod anyway. "jus' wants to be touched huh?"

all the while, your hand had attached itself around his wrist, leading it down to where you needed him. "please, carl."

you let out a breath of relief as his hand passed your panties, fingers gently circling your clit. "you're such a good girl, aren't you, using your manners 'n all?"

you felt him kiss against your cheek but all you could think about was his hand working magic against you. "uh huh." you breathed out.

"yeah, my good girl." you felt his fingers collect the wetness from your sopping hole, gently pushing them into it and watching as you gasped and writhed. "think you need something extra special tonight, hm?"

you nodded, half humming, half whimpering.

carl's fingers felt euphoric. after he had touched you the first time, you went straight home and tried to do the same over and over again. you tried to capture the same feeling he had given you but you couldn't do it, not without his hands and his voice whispering to you. which is exactly why you came back with fustrated bed head and teary eyes.

carl was more than happy to help his poor girl out.

all he wanted was for you to feel good.

like now, as your back arched against the mattress of his bed, warm and sticky juices coated his fingers that he pumped in and out of you, palm against your clit every time he brought it back.

"feel good, huh?" your nod was enough of an answer, cheeks hot and teeth piercing your bottom lip. "you're so good." and as badly as you wanted to whimper and whine, you restrained. you were well aware of the family in the room over, you couldn't help but let out a small noise from behind your closed lips.

perhaps this was exactly where carl wanted you.

your breath stuttered. "i―nghh." you tried to force the words out. that familiar feeling in the bottom of your stomach was knotting, you found it rather difficult to tell him you were close when you also felt so ecstatic.

that was the benefits of carl knowing your body so well.

"you're close, yeah?" he knew without you having to utter a word. he was leaning over you, close as your head lay near his shoulder, your heavy breaths in his ear. "'s okay, jus' say my name, baby."

unsure, you didn't give it a thought. instead, you breathed his name passed your lips. "carl." though it was more of a quiet whine than anything else.

"again, angel." his lips kissed against the nape of your neck, hearing your breaths get heavier.

"carl, hmph, carl―" you spoke his name like a prayer against your lips. all you could feel, all you could see, all you could think. carl.

the feeling of knowing that he was the only thing on your mind... well it was enough for carl himself.

"gonna cum?" he didn't leave much room for you to shake your head. instead you nodded quickly, needily. "yeah? cum all over my hand, sweetheart, that's it."

and you did exactly what he'd told you to.

you found your lips shoved against the shoulder of his top, silencing the whimpers that left your lips as your back arched and your hips bucked into his hand. with his pumping fingers and thumb that had reached up to your clit, helping you ride out your high... well it was almost impossible not to cum.

when it passed, you laid against the bed with heavy breaths falling from your lips.

he still kissed at your neck, gently nipping at the skin as he helped pull your shirt above your head.

you felt sort of dazed, almost dumb. carl always left you feeling like this. you followed his movements, pulling his own shirt above his head while his lips reattached to your own.

carl began pulling down his jeans and your hands reached out to his hips.

before you could touch him, though, his hands stopped you. "doin' something a little different tonight, okay baby?"

your confused face looked up at him but you didn't question it. instead, you nodded and allowed him to help you discard of your own pyjama pants, allowing him to trail your soaking panties off your frame, tossing them somewhere on the ground that no doubt would be gone by morning, you'd find him with a guilty but amused face as you searched high and low for them.

he began to pull down his boxers and you held your breath.

carl was big.

though, it were true that you hadn't really seen anyone before in the way you saw carl but you knew from the mere imprint of his jeans that he was bigger than quite a lot of others. not that you ever found yourself looking...

you'd seen him many times, touched him even but every time you saw him again it was like you'd forgotten all over again. he was obviously hard, judging by the way his dick stood out. your eyes trailed back up to his face, though he was already watching you, curiously.

you were stumped.

he'd stopped your hands before, not wanting you to touch him, he was doing things 'differently' but he seemed to know an abundance more than you because you couldn't think of anything else to do other than touch each other.

"carl, what are we―"

the boy cut you off with a gentle shushing. "jus' relax baby, trust me." you felt his gentle but large hands grasp at your thighs, pushing them upwards. you felt your sensitive but needy cunt jut forward while he placed both your legs flat against his chest.

this was certainly a position you'd never been in before.

you watched as he pressed gentle kisses against your ankles, a hand gently grasping your sock-covered foot.

you watched in anticipation, confusion and excitement. carl had a way of making you feel all those three at once.

he moved his hand back down to his dick, you held your breath as he rubbed up and down his shaft lining it up with your entrance. as his cock pressed against your sensitive clit, you whimpered, moving away slightly.

carl was quick to move you back. "i know, i know, you're all sensitive but you'll feel good okay? gonna make you feel good." you nodded hesitantly. "everything okay down there, huh?" he gently tapped against your head, bringing you back to reality.

you found it difficult not to hold your breath. "nervous." is all you managed to muster up. you'd both touched each other before but he'd never had you like this.

the way he leaned over you was sort of scary but he also gave you this loving gentleness that made you feel almost protected. "don't be, angel, 's just me." you nodded as his thumb ran down your cheek softly. "yeah? not nervous?"

of course it wasn't that easy, but you nodded anyway, feeling somewhat comforted.

"c'mere, you're gonna be in control too." you felt his larger hand grasp your own. he led it downwards and placed it on his practically throbbing cock. you felt bad for carrying this out, he was probably hurting. "might hurt a little bit, bunny, okay? but just give me a few minutes, make it feel so much better."

"okay." you voiced, shakily, dumbly. his hand was wrapped around yours which was wrapped around his dick. he helped you maneuver it towards your sopping wet hole and you felt his tip insert itself inside.

you let out a noise of slight pain. "i know, baby, 's gonna take a minute." he was being oh so lovely, as gently as he could as he pushed himself inside. he was almost at the end when his two hands came to grab at yours, pulling them flat above your head against the mattress. "'s gonna feel good."

as soon as carl pushed himself completely in, he was reminded to control himself.

his eyes fluttered shut. he'd been dreaming, fantasizing about this moment for too long. it took everything in him not to take you right there and then, fuck you into the mattress until there was nothing left of you. but he couldn't. your twisted up face was a reminder that while he was excited, he must take his time.

you were getting used to his length which was... a lot.

your own eyes were fluttering shut but they opened at the feeling of his dick leaving you, pulling out but just as you felt him almost leave, he rutted his hips right back in until his dick was fully inside again.

"fuck." he let out a grunt while you squeezed your face up with a noise.

you felt him move again, ready to slide out but your mind was too focused on the pain of it all. "carl, i don't―" you were cut off with an embarrassing moan as he pushed himself back inside.

suddenly, the pain feigned itself as pleasure.

the stinging stopped and you were met with a feeling you'd never quite felt before.

"there you go." his own breath was heavy as he repeated the action, this time quicker. "good girl, see 's not so bad?"

you could only nod with a moan. your eyes shut again and you willed your mouth closed.

carl began moving his hips rather quickly. all the running he'd been doing his whole life was finally beginning to pay off, his stamina was unheard of. you found yourself writhing beneath him, mouth almost sewn shut while he pushed in and out of you, his cock filling you up completely.

you began to get nervous, though. the sounds coming out of you were only going to get louder and the last thing you wanted to do was alert anyone downstairs what you and carl had been doing in his bedroom.

but like always, carl was ten steps ahead of you.

his hand entrapped both your hands above your head but he used his free one to trail downwards. you felt his hand move over your mouth, holding it closed while he pumped his dick in and out of you, watching as your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

"oh, fuck, you're doin' so well, sweetheart." he did his best to keep up his praise, he loved watching your cheeks go pink and feeling your pussy tighten around his cock the minute the words 'good girl' left his lips. but it was hard to think of anything while being inside you.

your gummy walls kept him close, tightening around him. it was almost impossible to keep rutting in and out of you but he couldn't stop, he was like a starved man, addicted to your body. you were gushing at him, wetness creating a white creamy ring at the base of his cock.

your eyebrows were pinched, tears of only pleasure beginning to sting at your eyes.

he was leaning forward, one hand holding your wrists which so desperately wanted to throw themselves forward to paw at him. his other hand held itself tightly around your lips, your sounds were muffled against the skin but he kept his ear close, straining them to listen to the pretty sounds you could make.

you felt his entire weight on you and oddly enough, it made you impossibly more wet.

the feeling of him practically on top of you was surreal, you could feel the sheets beneath you go damp, you were making such a mess.

"'s right, angel, make a mess f'me, good girl." carl didn't seem to care. on the contrary, it was only motivating him further.

it was a sudden realization, he was fucking you. he'd been waiting for this moment for too long. it was everything he'd ever dreamed of. no, it was more.

a sharp cry from you was muffled by his hand but he knew what it meant. "someone's close again, huh?" you nodded so quickly, tears springing at your eyes while your mind seemed cloudy, blank even. you were gone completely and utterly dumb, you couldn't even think.

carl would be lying if he said he could last much longer.

he'd bathe in this feeling forever if he could but he could feel the knot in his stomach too, willing to unfold.

he was going to cum inside of you.

"fuck, that's it angel, doin' so good. wanna cum on my dick, huh?" his voice turned a little more high pitched, a neediness that you both shared, both searching for your highs. his lips quirked. "say please." he teased, knowing you couldn't utter a word.

you only whined against his hand, a whine telling him that you couldn't deal with his teasing, not now.

"come on, pretty, cum on my dick." and like every other time, you'd complied almost instantly.

he pushed his hand harshly against your mouth, roughly holding your head close to the mattress as he felt your walls squeeze against his length. you gushed, wetness pushing around his cock while he felt himself unfold at just the same time.

he fucked his cum into you as he rode out his high, curses and swears falling from his lips while your eyes rolled backwards, dumb and empty minded.

when he finished, all he could think was you.

"fuck." heavy breaths as his hands loosened against you, you took in heavy breaths as you could breathe again, his hand moving away and your wrists suddenly free. they fell on your waist, gently holding you so he could pull his dick free from your hole.

as he looked down, all he could see was both he and your cum mixing together, coating his dick and pouring out from your hole.

all he could say?

"holy fucking shit."

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[enidette]

HEAVEN BESIDE YOU

warnings :: both are 18+, no real d/s dynamics, kinda fluffy first time smut stuff, riding, unprotected sex (ill advised in an apocalypse but yolo)

carl grimes x fem!reader

carl remembers the first time he spoke to you. you lived in alexandria before he did, but had a similar backstory. you lived out there with walkers for years before you were welcomed into these walls. you caught his interest immediately, but the fact you stuck to yourself so much made it difficult for him to even learn your name.

that only piqued his interest more.

he would look for you, especially on watch shifts. he’d follow even, never getting caught. or so he’d thought. until one day he followed you out to the woods, hiding behind trees as you walked. you took a different path this time, leading him to a clearing. a large piece of land with an old, broke down car in the middle.

he watches you go further and further from his hiding spot, eventually deciding to go home when you turn around with a confused expression. your gaze finds his and he stands up straight, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights

“you’re not coming?” your voice had genuine curiosity, making him quirk a brow at you. he emerges from the trees but doesn’t try getting closer.

“what?”

you let out a short laugh, digging in your bag before tossing him a comic you’d find on one of your runs. he watches you turn back around and head towards the car, following you quickly this time.

“you think i haven’t noticed you, cowboy?” he grimaces at the nickname, looking at the comic in his hands instead of you. “i’ve noticed you like reading those.” you grab the car door that’s merely leaning on the car, moving it enough for the both of you to get in.

carl huffs, sliding into the backseat with you and moving the door back in place. “i’m surprised you noticed anything about me. you keep to yourself so much.” you nod at him, head turned facing the dusty windshield.

“i know a bit about everyone,” you turn to him a nudge him with your shoulder. “i could learn more about you if you’d let me.”

ever since, that car had become you and carl’s “spot”. somewhere you both would meet up to just be teenagers again, not ones stuck in the apocalypse. you had both grown so close so quickly, it was hard for carl to not see you in a different light.

it didn’t help that you seemed to treat him differently than everyone else. that you always wanted to know more about him. you remembered the things he liked and he’s not blind either, you’re very attractive.

he found himself testing the waters more and more. doing his best to use the little flirting he’s picked up over the years on you. it usually backfires, until one day the two of you are in the backseat of your abandoned car. you’re on one side and he’s on the other.

his comic is in front of his face but his eyes are peaking over it at you. you look focused as you read, popping candies you had both found in your mouth every once and a while. he sees how your skin is slightly glistening with sweat from the virginian summer heat.

he swallows thickly, trying to turn his focus back to his comic when he hears your laughter.

“you’re not exactly smooth, grimes,” you look up at him through your lashes with a small teasing smile. his mouth falls open a bit before turning into a flustered grin. he shakes his head and throws his comic down.

his breathing picks up a bit as he thinks about what to say next. “seemed i was every other time.” you quirk a brow at him, laying your comic down and sitting properly in front of him.

“oh no, grimes. i’ve caught you checking me out,” his face goes hot at your bold statement, embarrassed at how obvious he had been. not like he had much experience in these situations to go off of.

he doesn’t say anything, just adjusts himself in the seat so he’s shoulder to shoulder with you. his eyes avoiding yours that began shamelessly raking up and down his body. your hand goes to his thigh and he tenses up at the sudden contact, unaware of what to do next.

you pause at his reaction, “do you wanna just.. pretend this didn’t happen?” your hand starts to retract when he grabs it, just holding it in his. he looks down at your interlocked hands and just shakes his head. his eye flickers up to yours before going to your lips. he instinctively leans in a bit but stops halfway. the only sound in your ears were the nervous breaths the both of you let out.

you lean your head towards him, the tips of your noses touching. carl tenses at the unfamiliar contact, but doesn’t pull away. “do you wanna kiss me?” your question has him nodding, he didn’t even trust his voice in a situation like this.

you tilt your head up a little, leaning in all the way. your eyes flutter shut when your lips meet and it’s obvious you’re both inexperienced. you awkwardly bring a hand to the back of his head, playing with his hair as you attempt to deepen the kiss.

his hands find your waist, but the odd position has you hesitantly straddling his lap. “is this alright?” you mutter under your breath. the sudden closeness due to how pressed against him you were because of the small carapace hit him like a truck.

his eye raked over your body, mouth a little agape as he nods. you lean back in and the kiss is a little needier, messier. teeth clashing and heavy breaths mixing. an involuntary whimper slips out of his mouth when you grind against him, causing you to pull away and lean towards his ear.

“you make pretty noises, pretty boy.” he shuts his eye at the name, sucking in breaths harsher and harsher the more friction you provided. he had imagined this more times than he’d like to admit.

but it didn’t compare to how soft your lips felt against his, how perfect your skin felt on his fingertips. you’re breathing heavy, your chest rising and falling quickly. he sees how plump your lips are from your kiss, how pretty your skin looks in the rusted-window sunlight.

he pushes himself against you, chest to chest and reattaches your lips. the rocking of your hips becomes quicker and needier and his hands are digging into your hips. you pull away again, placing your hands on his chest before letting them wander. they trace down his abdomen before landing at the waistband of his jeans.

you look up at him quizzically, the two of you too embarrassed to speak. he nods and you unzip his jeans, tugging them down his legs. your impatience gets the best of you leaving you to abandon them at his mid-thighs. he huffs a laugh at your desperation, helping you pull your panties to the side and guide yourself onto his cock.

you whimper at the intrusion, going down slowly. he sucks in a breath through his teeth, throwing his head back. you can’t help but stare at him, his hair framing the art that is his face, his complex scar he’s so ashamed of hidden from your view.

all the whole carl is looking at you like a goddess, half lidded eye raking along your body. your hands are unsteady on his chest, trying your best to steady yourself and bounce on him properly.

your arms wrap around his neck and you lean down to kiss him. it’s a tad softer this time, carl wants to savor this as long as he can. his arms go around your waist, leaving you to grind on him instead. the kiss is messy, mostly heavily breathing into each others mouths trying to stay as close as possible.

carl leans back, opening his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a strangled moan. you can tell he’s close by how his hips messily snap up into yours. you stop your movements, causing carl to whine at the loss of pleasure. you lock your lips with his and bring your hand up to wrap around his cock.

you lead his hand down and his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast causing whimpers to fall from your lips. his brows furrow and his mouth falls agape while he watches your pretty hand finish him off.

your heavy breaths are the only sound that fill the car until your giggles erupt. “we should head back to alexandria and shower?” carl sighs and shakes his head, tugging your body back down into his,

“later, stay with me.”

taglist :: @carlslvr @herrera2k @hiro--aoki @carlsangel @mozzeralla-stix

[rickgrimesfever]

Daryl Dixon SFW and NSFW Headcanons

Synopsis: Daryl Dixon SFW and NSFW hcs x fem! reader.

Content: SFW and NSFW hcs. Fem! reader.

A/n: I had a lot of fun writing thisss and I realize how much longer the SFW part is than the NSFW, but I tried my best to make them equal.

SFW:

Obviously, Daryl has to trust you a lot first and probably know you for a while, before even thinking about being in a relationship with you.

Doesn't really express his feelings at all, takes him awhile to do so.

You probably gotta confess your feelings first and be super patient with Daryl.

Super protective over you and is always by your side when you're outside the walls.

He defends you 24/7, sleeping with his crossbow beside his bed.

He likes to have his arm around your waist, keeping your body close to his in case.

Daryl is afraid of losing you and that's his way of showing it, by always keeping you by his side.

Obviously, you and Dog have a good relationship and you take care of him when Daryl is gone.

PDA is a big no no, he's not comfortable with it and you're both fine with that.

Of course that doesn't mean there isn't longing gazes or flustered cheeks in public.

In private, he's different and warm and feels safe around you.

Before you really get comfortable in your relationship, you mostly have to make the first moves.

If you want to cuddle, you'll climb into Daryl's lap and he has no problem wrapping his arms around you.

The first few kisses are shy ones, you walking up to him, grabbing his face and gently pulling him towards you.

Although, Daryl is the first one to initiate a passionate kiss where your lips melt together and your grabbing at each other desperately.

He likes to grab your chin, thumb running over your jawline before you go out on a run.

His eyes are soft as they meet yours, soft quick kisses planted on your lips.

Of course, Dog sleeps in the bed with the two of you, usually cuddling with you.

Sometimes, Daryl gets this glisten of jealously in his eyes, wishing he was Dog.

If something ever happens to you, Daryl would fully lose his shit. I can imagine him throwing things around, tears in his eyes, and screaming at the top of his lungs.

Daryl is still shy with you ofc, but he'll sometime whisper how beautiful you are or how much he loves you into your ear at night.

He's not good with expressing himself, but with you, it seems a bit easier.

Ofc, you are there to hold Daryl in your arms and comfort him if needed.

When the two of you are out and dealing with walkers, you make sure to always have each other's backs.

Daryl lets you be independent and you let him be as well, but there are times when you depend on each other.

Daryl would never let someone disrespect you and immediately almost tries to start a fight every time when someone does, he usually succeeds if you don't stop him first.

When you fall asleep, Daryl usually stays up for a bit after, watching you and how your chest goes up and down with each breath.

Daryl def gets a lot more sleep with you because of how safe he feels with you.

I don't really see Daryl using petnames, but he maybe slips a honey at the end of his sentences sometimes.

He loves holding your hand and kissing it.

Motorcycle rides for life and Daryl loves it when you hold onto him tightly or rest your head on his back when riding.

NSFW:

Let's be realistic, it's going to take a while for you and Daryl to be imitate, and you're gonna wanna wait till he takes a shower in Alexandria.

Everything is tender and super slow. Honestly, probably takes a few times before Daryl is actually comfy to do anything.

You want Daryl to take his time and be comfortable as his hands run up and down the curves of your body.

You can hear his breath getting caught in his throat as his eyes rake over your figure.

Your hands are cupping his cheeks, thumb brushing over his skin to assure him that it's ok.

You both take time exploring each other's bodies for the first time and Daryl lets you be in control.

Your hot, heavy breathes are in sync the first time as you're sitting on top of him, going up and down on his cock.

Daryl is gripping onto you tightly, trying to hold himself back from letting go.

Whines and throaty grumbles escape his lips as your hands are planted on his chest, stabling you.

The first time, Daryl can't help but cum before you. The way your pussy was squeezing his dick, it felt too good.

It was embarrassed when it happened, cheeks tinted red, but you reassure him it's fine.

Your fingers run over his scars and his skin shudders from the soft, tender touch.

He doesn't mind it when you touch his scars, but you make note to not really ask or say anything about them that would make Daryl uncomfy.

Once Daryl gets comfortable, he takes taking control and boy does he love the way you act and sound.

Daryl loves it when his dick is pounding into your pussy and your moans are filling up the room.

The way your body reacts to the slightest touches and how your jaw drops open when letting out the prettiest sounds.

He doesn't talk a lot during at first, but once he's comfortable, he'll speak to you.

Daryl isn't big on degrading you (I could def see it in some situations where he's pent up) but normally, he calls you a good girl and doesn't like to degrade you because you're so precious and important to him.

Honestly, he loves it when you take control and ride him.

He likes having his hands on your waist, guiding you onto his cock and helping you.

He doesn't really ask for any sexual acts, but when he's pent up, he'll put his hand on your head, pushing you down towards his bottom half.

Daryl is very big on you feeling comfortable so as he's pushing your head down, he's cursing and asking you if it's ok, many times.

Daryl is there for you and your pleasure, so there's a lot of times where he'll just pleasure you.

When your lips are wrapped around his cock and your knees are planted into the floor, Daryl can't help it but feel so absolutely turned on.

He keeps his hand on the back of your head, trying to control himself from pushing your head.

Only if you like it will Daryl cum in your mouth, if not he won't.

He likes giving like his life depends on it. His fingers stuffed into your pussy, hearing your moany whines or his tongue focusing on your clit your hands tug on his hair.

Aftercare is super important to the two of you.

First, you'll both get cleaned up and get yourselves situated.

Daryl loves wrapping you up in his arms after it, pressing soft kisses on your forehead or cheeks.

Sometimes he'll massage your ankles after and pamper you.

You'll shower Daryl in love after, telling him what a good job he did as your fingers comb through his hair.

He smiles so big as your lips kiss his face, hands squeezing his arms assuringly.

Regardless, you make sure the both of you feel pleasure and feel good at the end of the day.

[sc3ptre]

Full house

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem! reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Genre: No plot filthy smut

Warnings: fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie

Era: season 10?

Word count: 1.3k

This just didn’t happen often. Mornings where neither of you had to hunt, lead or deal with someone else’s mess. No responsibilities, no chaos. Just you and Daryl tangled in warm sheets, the sun barely starting to stretch across the floor through thin curtains.

Still, you’d woken up early, your instincts sharp no matter how peaceful things seemed but the second you tried to shift away from him, Daryl’s hands found you, grabbing at your waist, sliding along your bare thighs and pulling you right against his chest. His lips latched onto your clavicles and neck, hungry and unrelenting, his scruffy goatee dragging over your skin in that way that made your breath hitch.

Your thighs parted instinctively when his rough fingers grazed over your slick heat, his mouth swallowing the soft gasp it pulled from you. He pushed one finger inside, slow, deep and pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes before sliding in another. Your plump lips parted to let out a quiet moan.

“Shhhh,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “We doin’ this?”

You nodded into the pillow and he kept at it, curling his fingers in just the right way, letting them be coated with your slick. His lips brushed yours, feather-light between the small, helpless sounds you couldn’t quite suppress.

“What?” you panted, chest rising fast. “Afraid you wont get your dick wet this morning?”

He gave a low, amused laugh, one only you ever got to hear. “Afraid ‘m gonna ruin more of yer underwear by cumming onto it again”

Your eyes snapped open, mouth parted in disbelief. “I’m sorry, w–what?”

He didn’t answer, just sped up, fingers thrusting into you harder, dragging a cry from your throat that he caught with a hand over your mouth as you turned onto your back, your legs parting to accommodate his hand. You still tried glaring at him as he moved himself on top of you but the pleasure wiped your brain clean as your body melted into the mattress.

Then, in one smooth practiced motion, he pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his cock, thick and full, all the way inside before you could do more than gasp. He groaned low into your neck, your walls fluttering in a pre-orgasmic way around his thickness in response.

Once the shock wore off, you pushed his hand off your mouth and hissed, “My underwear? Really?”

“I clean ‘em real good,” he muttered without a hint of shame.

“Oh yeah? What about the half that disappeared? Was it—was it Dog?”

“Mhm…Dog” he said simply.

Your jaw dropped at the repeating lie but he soon pressed a hand over your mouth again, kissing the back of it as he thrusted, slow but deep, making you lose your train of thought all over again.

”Ya wanna fuck or argue?” he grunted.

You tried to glare in a way that let him know you obviously couldn’t respond with his hand over your mouth. When he finally moved it, you took a deep breath, only for the next stroke to hit a perfect spot that left you gasping. He quickly covered it again and seconds later you nodded, for him to let go.

“Is there…” you swallowed a moan, breath catching, ”Is there a secret third option?”

“Not righ’ now, no.” 

You whimpered again, your body giving up on resistance. You clung to him as he worked you open, your walls sucking him in deeper, desperate for every inch. His smirk grew with every breathy sound you made. Soft, pathetic whines that drove him wild.

“Wha’s wrong? Gettin’ hard t’ think?”

You pulled him closer, smiling lips brushing his ear. “Probably for your own good, Dixon.”

He grunted, then shifted, hooking his arm under your leg and lifting it slightly. The angle made your eyes roll back, every thrust pressing deep and true against your cervix in a way that made you delirious. Talking stopped altogether, only gasps and moans filled the air.

You held onto him for dear life, moaning into his shoulder as you felt that high sneak up on you, your eyes widening as you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it in.

“D—Daryl…” you whimpered, the knot in your stomach coiling tighter.

Without a word, his hand came back over your mouth as his forehead met yours. You came with a cry muffled into his palm, your body trembling beneath him. The way you clenched around him pushed him over the edge, the pulsations from your sweet release caging him in. His cock throbbed inside you, filling you completely just as your pussy milked him dry.

He groaned into your shoulder. 

“I’ll get ya new underwear, I swear,” he mumbled.

You laughed breathlessly. “You blamed Dog…twice. What is wrong with you?”

He lifted himself just enough to pull out carefully, watching as the last of his release dripped from his reddened tip onto your swollen folds. He groaned at the sight.

“You,” he said, falling back down beside you and dragging you close, “you’re wha’s wrong with me”

You smiled, turning to face him and starting to press soft kisses along his jaw. “Sounds like we both owe each other an apology.”

He hummed low and you felt his cock twitch against your thigh.

“Five minutes,” he muttered.

“Five minutes” you agreed, already leaning in for another kiss until voices echoed from downstairs causing you both to turn and stare at the door.

“’S locked” he assured.

Your eyes went wide. “Daryl…what day is it?”

"Wha’ do ya—” He squinted, then groaned. “Shit. Saturday ” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” you repeated, launching yourself out of the bed.

“Yeah tha’s wha’ we were about t’ do” he mumbled.

Saturdays meant everyone was over. Lydia, Judith and RJ who lived with you but also Aaron, Maggie, their kids and Carol. All letting themselves in like the big, chaotic family they were.

As you rummaged through drawers, Daryl sat up and swung his legs off the bed. His voice soon stopped you.

“Sunshine, ya migh’ wanna…shower first” he said, eyes on your legs.

You looked down too. A thin stream of his cum was trailing down your inner thigh. “Goddamnit.”

You met his gaze, then your glance lowered to his newly half erected cock. “Stay away from my drawer.” you pointed.

Daryl simply scoffed, already getting up and walking to you. “‘M gettin’ in tha’ shower with ya. We’re already late, migh’ as well.”

After a quick shared rinse that nearly made you later, you both got dressed and headed downstairs, preparing for the worst.

“Good morning,” you greeted as you entered the kitchen. Maggie, Carol, Lydia and Aaron were already there.

“Seems that way for you two,” Carol teased from the stove, grinning over her shoulder while Daryl brushed past you toward the coffee pot.

“You heard?” You asked, mortified.

“No,” Maggie said with a smirk. “Call it an educated guess. I wanted to wake you up when I got here and you weren’t already downstairs…decided not to”

Daryl glanced around. “The kids…?” 

Aaron shook his head, setting plates down. “Outside. Been out since they woke up.”

“Thank god” You sighed in relief, your hands running over your face as Carol, Maggie and Aaron broke out in giggles.

Then Lydia blinked. “Wait…I thought Daryl lived in the basement bedroom”

The laughing stopped and everything went still. You and Daryl exchanged a sharp look before you smiled awkwardly, tight lipped “Yeah, so about that…”

Daryl raised his mug. “I ain’t havin’ that conversation with the kid. Yer the mother figure.”

“Fuck you” you said, shooting him a glare. 

He didn’t even flinch. “Go right’ ahead. Ya won’t hear me complain ‘bout it“

Lydia looked between the both of you, blinking “I’m… going to tidy up my bedroom until breakfast.”

“Great idea.” you said quickly, giving her a quick hug as she walked past you.

“Proud of ya, kid.” Daryl added, not missing a beat.

Carol chuckled, “You guys are doing a great job.”

You sighed, finally sitting down at the dining table “At traumatising kids, maybe.”

Aaron cackled and Maggie clinked her coffee mug with your empty one.

“Best parents at the end of the world,” Aaron added.

You snorted. “Yeah…by sheer lack of competition.”

[konigslittleliebling]

MY DEAR, MY DARLING ONE.

(PASS ME THAT LOVELY LITTLE GUN)

table of contents; distressing situation, you’re a captive, implications of torture, injury, violence, attempted sa, established situationship (they have those in the apocalypse too), hurt/comfort, strong language. proceed wisely!

drip drip drip.

every thirteen seconds, that drain pipe drips. you’ve timed each interval. three drops every time.

drip drip drip.

boy, that was a slow twenty-six seconds.

drip drip drip.

thirty-nine.

and you’ve kept count of every last one; you’ve been here just shy of four days.

then that scrape. that horrifically jarring scrape against the steel sheet wall.

your bones rattle, ears ringing as that familiar panic starts to seep in.

you listen out for the clinging and clanging of the shipping container door being unlocked, and on the second drip, it screeches on its rusted metal joints. you squeeze your eyes shut, preparing for the stream of daylight to flood in, but it never does. it’s dark outside.

time must have escaped you, or you’ve slept longer than you thought. you must in fact be encroaching on day five.

the night’s chill nips at the bare skin that your underwear fails to conceal, which is most of it, and you tremble from your damp corner of the large cargo tank. it creaks when someone steps inside, and you’ve since learnt that it’s best not to make eye contact with whomever approaches.

you’re a slow learner, and you’ve had to learn the hard way, but still you learn.

you’ve got two black eyes to show for it.

“gov’s on his way.” drawls a familiar southern voice. merle. “i picked up a chinese kid and his girlfriend earlier today,” he continues thickly, stooping to a crouch before you. “don’t ‘spose yer familiar with ‘em?”

glenn and maggie. your heart lurches, but you say nothing.

“only, they know my brother.” he sinks to one knee, the cool point of his blade kissing the underside of your chin when he tilts your face up. “ya look like ‘er,” he observes with a smirk, blue eyes dashing over your bruised face. “glenn’s piece’a tail, i mean.”

there’s no way he’s made that connection. you always bore a closer resemblance to your father, akin to beth; unlike maggie who resembles your late mother.

“they proposed an ultimatum,” he goes on with that raspy voice you can hardly stand. “we give ya back, they’ll tell us where yer hunkered down.”

“why are you telling me this?” you ask hoarsely, finding your voice. having not had any human interaction for a couple of days, it comes out a little croaky. you clear your throat.

“‘cause the only way gov will allow that is if ya cooperate,” he lifts his sharp prosthetic so the tip rests below your eye, tender to the touch. you wince despite his delicacy, and he eases the knife so it merely hovers in front of your face. “and we know yer not so good at that.”

“why do you care?” you spit, forgetting yourself.

merle’s eyes flash but he doesn’t strike you. he’s the only one who hasn’t.

“this might be my last chance ta get my baby brother back,” he divulges, strangely soft.

then a pair of footsteps, heavy and purposeful, crunch the gravel beneath them as they march in your direction.

merle glances over his shoulder then turns back to you, voice low. “do yerself a favour, girl, give him what he wants.” he scuffs a knuckle against your lower lip where dried blood has congealed and collected, a morsel of guilt present in his stare if you look long enough.

you narrow your gaze, eyes following him when he stands. “this’ll all be over soon.”

“she talk yet?” drones another familiar voice, one you can stand even less.

merle twists on his axis and out of your way, allowing you to see a lean silhouette in the doorway, blackened by the floodlights behind him.

“nah,” merle tells him, fiddling with the buckles of his contraption. “stubborn lil bitch, this one is, gov.”

the governor hums and from that alone you can tell he’s smirking. “so is her sister.”

your cheeks burn with a foreign rage, swollen eyes shooting daggers at where you think his own leer down at you. the hands that hug your knees to your chest tighten, fingers curling until you think your knuckles may split through the skin.

“stubborn. . . and very, very pretty.”

your jaw ticks, a red hot ache spreading over the rest of your face from the amount of times you’ve been smacked there. you’re certain you probably look like a gerbil, and you know for a fact you’re missing a few teeth.

the governor steps inside, and the light from outside finally illuminates his face when it ricochets off the back wall and onto him like a spotlight. he’s wearing that same smug expression you suspected he would be. it’s the only one he seems to have.

he manages to drag his eyes from you long enough to acknowledge merle, catching a glimpse of the man’s remaining hand. he spots the blood that smudges it, brownish from its age, not that he notices. “you beat her?”

merle’s temples ripple as he grinds his teeth. “yup,” he motions to your cowering frame with his knife-hand. “slapped her about real good, still nothin’. i can come back tomorrow—”

“that’s alright, merle,” the governor dismisses him with a half-arsed wave. “i’ll take it from here. if good looks aren’t the only thing she has in common with her sister, i might just know how to crack her.”

he snaps a finger, and another henchman you don’t recognise scuttles in with a chair, places it down in front of you, then leaves as quick as he came.

merle loiters, regarding him coolly. “she ain’t respondin’ ta force, gov. i reckon—”

“thank you, merle.” the governor cuts him off, spinning the chair around to take a seat. “why don’t you go and give our friend glenn a visit? somethin’ tells me he’s easier to scare than his lady friends.”

you’re dead wrong there, you muse.

“yes, boss.” merle gives him a curt nod, then throws you an unreadable sidelong glance on his way out.

“now, then” the governor props his arms over the back of the chair, hands clasped. “how are we?”

god, he really grinds your gears. “peachy.”

he chuckles, leg bouncing. he does that a lot. “that looks sore.” he points to the various welts and cuts that blotch your black and blue face.

no, they tickle. “had worse.”

“that be?” he grins, incredulous, tapping his heel now.

“well, the world sorta went to shit,” you answer from your defensive little ball. you must look so pathetic to him. “so did human decency, apparently.”

his facade falters ever so slightly. anyone else might not have noticed, but you’ve started to suss him out.

“though i’ve found men always lacked in moral capacity, so i guess some things never change.” you finish, suddenly confident.

something else you’ve learned during your time here is that he’s nothing without his ego. one hefty blow to that, and you might just catch him on the hop.

he blinks slowly, like a slimy little lizard, then that charming smile returns to his lips, splitting from cheek to cheek. it sends a chill rocketing down your spine and you shiver, which you hope he didn’t see.

“you can make this easier on yourself,” he motions to your battered face again, and you’re starting to grow self-conscious about it. “this is mostly on you.”

you huff out a laugh through your teeth; it pains you to do so but the way his eyes twitch make it worth while.

“somethin’ funny?”

“nope,” you let your head thump back against the wall, a provocative smirk peeling your lip up. “nothing funny here.”

thwack.

his backhand sends you flying onto your side, right onto your ribs. you hadn’t realised they might be broken until now and you let out a groan, wrapping an arm around your middle.

the scraping of the chair legs against the floor slice through your eardrums and you cringe. you always hated the sound of cutlery squeaking against a plate, and that’s the sound it reminded you of.

“no,” he says fiercely, no longer interested in the upkeep of his persona. “there isn’t.”

you whimper when he grips you by your hair, wrapping it around his fist, then flings you back into the corner the same way one might discard their litter onto the roadside.

you land awkwardly on your shoulder and let out a throaty, struggled breath. you refuse to give him the satisfaction, even if you do want nothing more than to bawl your eyes out.

you grit your teeth. don’t fucking cry.

he’s kneeling beside you now, expression overcast. then a merciless hand takes your chin in its jaws and forces you to look at him. you heave out through flared nostrils, eyes wide as you grip his wrist and squeeze it.

he doesn’t relent. if anything, his grasp tightens.

“where’s your group?” he asks you, mouth so taut you’re surprised he got his words out.

you swallow, shrinking into yourself slightly under his cold stare. there’s no shred of remorse behind those eyes. not even a little. “my daddy’s a religious man.” you begin, digging your nails into the skin of his wrist which flexes in response.

he squints at you, confused.

“i’ve always been indifferent, though. i’m not so naïve as to be a non-believer. . . but what god would allow an apocalypse? what god would create evil such as you?”

he says nothing, but his hand slips to your neck where it grips you lightly. not so hard that you can’t speak, but hard enough to warn you.

“but my dad? hard-core believer.” you clarify, still holding onto his wrist, nails biting into it a little more. “no boys, no parties, no fun. so maggie and i hatched a plan. if ever she or i had a boyfriend, we’d cover for each other. if she was the one with the boyfriend, i’d keep dad occupied so she could sneak him in, or sneak herself out. and she’d do the same for me. anyway, dad figured us out eventually and for one whole summer we were confined to the farm except for church every sunday. wanna know what i did?”

the governor regards you with dark, disinterested eyes.

“one sunday, the church was particularly full and the only room was right at the back next to this skinny boy who must’ve been new in town. out of boredom or pity or wanting to get back at my dad, i reached over, pulled the boy’s dick from his slacks, and jerked him off right there on the back pew, in the presence of god. what better way to rebel than that?”

you can tell he’s waiting for you to make your point, so you do, but not before smiling as widely as you’re able.

you lean forward so you’re nose-to-nose. “it’s. . . uncanny how much you look like that boy’s dick.”

his mouth twists into a grisly snarl and he squeezes your neck, the air catching in your throat. you gasp and claw at his hand. “last chance.”

even if you wanted to, you can’t say much with him squeezing the life out of you like this. well, if you’re going to die here, you may as well have the last laugh. with what remains of your strength, and through the sea of stars that cloud your vision, you manage to wheeze: “not for all the tea in china, pencil-dick.”

he glares at you with disgust, then with a frustrated growl he releases you, not before pushing you roughly against the container’s steel structure.

“murphy!” he bellows, summoning one of his henchmen.

a large man enters, burly and barrel-chested. “yes, boss?”

“do what you have to do, whatever makes her talk.” the governor orders him, running a hand through his hair. “if she still won’t cough anything up, kill her. if her people want her back, they can have her dead.”

murphy nods, a sick smile stretching across his face.

the governor turns to leave, then stops to say. “but save her head — it’ll look nice in my collection, and i’ve got an empty tank.”

your stomach churns. you knew there was more to this guy than what meets the eye. then to your horror, the door slams shut, plunging you into a darkness blacker than pitch.

you freeze and trap your breath in your lungs, which they don’t thank you for, and listen out for any movement. you can hear murphy’s faint breathing, but you’ve lost all bearing and have no idea where he is.

you’re bare-foot. perhaps you could try to slip past him to the door, jump out, then lock him in.

but you can’t see a fucking thing. knowing your luck, you’d walk straight into him, or miss the door entirely.

then a rough hand seizes you by your scruff and wrestles you to the floor so you’re prone, cheek pressed flush against the cool metal of it. you let out a yelp and struggle to free yourself, but another hand bends your arm back and a knee digs heavily into your lower back, pinning you down.

“gonna talk?” murphy asks, and something tells you he hopes not. “i would if i were you.”

you squirm, but it only causes you great pain and gets you absolutely nowhere. you go limp beneath him. “fuck you.”

“i’ll be doing the fucking.” he sneers with a tone so volatile that you know now why the governor left with such haste. even he was shaking in his boots.

a bile rises in you throat when his belt unbuckles and you huff, eyes closing. “go on, then.” you dare him, mind drifting to happier times. “i probably won’t even feel it.”

schwip.

there’s a whistle in the air above, a subtle gust coasting over you; followed by the weight above you going rigid.

then a loud thud lands beside you, causing you to jolt.

footsteps clatter against the floor and you hightail it on hand and foot until you reach the far corner, huddling yourself into the fetal position.

a pair of hands take hold of your shoulders and you shriek, blindly clawing and swiping and batting your hands.

“hey, hey, hey,” someone shushes, trying to reach for your face.

you whimper, still trying to fight them off, until they manhandle you out of your cubby and take your face in their hands. “hey, look at me.”

only now do you register the familiarity of their voice and their touch, and allow yourself to really look at them. you can’t see that clearly, eyes still adjusting to the bright light that spills in through the door which you hadn’t heard open.

“daryl?” you manage to croak. now that your adrenaline is wearing off, you only now realise the extent of your injuries. it feels as though every bone in your body is broken.

but the relief that surges through you soon overwhelms your pain.

“it’s me.” he whispers, stroking your hair from your face. from the way his eyes darken, it would seem he wasn’t expecting to find you in such bad shape. you feel him tense. “i’m here, i’m right here. yer okay.”

you finally succumb to your elements and collapse against him, body racked with sobs. he shushes you again and bundles you up in his arms, rocking you gently whilst he lays a tentative hand on your head. “i know, i know. s’okay.”

“gotta go.” you hear merle rasp from the door. he must’ve brought daryl to you.

“one second.” daryl snaps, tucking you further against him like he’s scared you’ll disappear. “gimme yer shirt.”

there’s a beat of silence before you hear merle hurry over, then you feel the warmth of him or daryl draping it over your shoulders. you sniffle against daryl’s neck, arms linked tightly around it.

“alright, i’ve got ya.” he says against your forehead, rising slowly to his feet. “there ya go, nice n’ easy.” one arm supports your back whilst the other locks under your knees, thumb rubbing a soft pattern against your shin.

when he turns to carry you out, you see murphy’s lifeless heap on the floor, a puddle of red oozing from each bolt that pierces him. one lodged between his eyes, and the other buried into his unzipped crotch.

“this way.” merle leads daryl away from the distant crackles and pops of gunfire.

“let’s get ya outta here.” daryl says, breaking into a steady jog. he holds you closer to him so you’re not thrashed around too much by his brisk pace. “no one will ever fuckin’ touch ya like that again.”

[writella]

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

Listed are all my stories for Daryl Dixon of The Walking Dead.

Daryl Dixon— archer, leader, brother, uncle, friend— independent, stoic, instinctual, discerning, reserved, intimidating, fiercely loyal, caring.

— “All of us, together… we’ll be their worst damn nightmare.” (8x09)

Stories:

Key— mature - ♡, sweet - ౨ৎ, suggestive - ✿— (all stories have sweetness though :)

Go to Sleep: Daryl and the reader explore a new way of trying to help you get to sleep. ♡

Working It Out: The group has been on the road for months— starving, distraught, and frankly, getting sick and tired of each other. After an argument about how to proceed, Rick decides they should split up to take a break from one another. You and Daryl go off into the woods, but what was supposed to be a silent search for food turns into a loud breaking point. ♡

— + Part Two ➳ It's Always Been Like This ♡

Trinkets; The Gifts of Gold He Gave You: A detailed record of all the special objects Daryl has found for you while hunting, riding, supply gathering, and living in the various places he has in the new world. These objects often lead to sweet moments of kindness, joy, and understanding between the two of you, deepening your connection. Although they are things others might not think much of— they were simply small gestures or trinkets after all— you believed these memories and mementos to be gifts of gold; they would shine in your mind forever onward. ౨ৎ

Before We Leave: Here’s one about you sitting all sweet on Daryl’s lap and giving you all the kisses. (Inspired by this dating headcanon by logansbaby.) ♡

A Different Kind of Ride: Reader wants to try something different with Daryl tonight. ♡

Daryl Dixon Daydreams List via Wonder with Writella

My headcanons or any short form / requested work:

It'll Be Okay: Daryl and the reader comfort and embrace each other after a stressful day. ♡

The Little Things: Daryl's acts of service through giving the reader little treasures. ౨ৎ

Rocking the Boat: A search for guns with a broken canoe that leaves Daryl and the reader soaked, holding onto each other for dear life. ♡

Nicknames: Reader teases Daryl by calling him nicknames. ♡

A Little Help: Some fun with Daryl and Rosita. ♡

Homework Break: Daryl comes home midday and you allow him to distract you from your work with kisses. ✿