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tinysunshine · 12 days ago

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━━━ ✧˖° 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍

‎ ‎ [ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

female reader, inclusive language. minors dni.

kinks: protective daryl, reader is extremely girly and feminine, fingering, very light dom/sub, fucking on a motorcycle, daryl sucks his fingers, pet names, oral sex, cum swallowing, slightly rough sex, some dirty talk, true love

warnings and triggers: age difference, reader is a former sex worker, trauma bonding, violence, death, slut shaming, bullying

word count: 13.4k

plot with porn, slight alternate universe.

you’re known as the princess of your group - soft, feminine, a girly girl who doesn’t want to get her hands dirty. despite the cruel new world you’re living in, you still hold on to whatever remnants of beauty you can find, hoping for a better tomorrow.

daryl is the opposite of everything you stand for. he’s hardened, rugged, ruthless - he’ll do whatever it takes to survive. despite your differences, you find yourselves drawn to each other in ways nobody, not even you two, can really understand. you bring softness to his strength, and in daryl you find a friend, a lover, a protector.

he’s everything you find warm and safe in this cold, scary world. you cling to him, and the best part?

daryl clings back.

“Cookies?”

The look Daryl gives you actually makes you crack a smile, and it’s a nice feeling. It’s been a long time since you smiled, now that you think about it - but it’s not like you’re keeping score.

Because if you were - you’d probably be able to count the amount of grins that’ve graced your face in the last eight months on one hand. Life has been brutal to everyone this year.

“I know it sounds weird,” you explain, crossing your legs on the rock you’re sitting on. Daryl’s supposed to be keeping watch of the camp while Rick and a few other men from the group make a run into the neighboring town for supplies. The plan was, because even the smallest things need well thought out plans in this world, that the women and children of the camp would rest, and if Daryl saw any walkers, he’d wake everyone up.

Sort of dumb, in theory, with how fast things happen when walkers are added to the equation, but it’s all this group has got.

Plans and Rick’s hope.

You’re supposed to be resting too, since yesterday was a travel day - long and exhausting. But you can’t sleep. You’ve got a headache, you’re hungry, and your sleeping bag is still a little damp from your water bottle, the plastic gone thin from having been dropped too many times, breaking while you drove from your last destination. Your tent is cold and you’re sharing it with a single woman who has a child, and their crying is really starting to bum you out.

So you decided to join Daryl keeping watch. He’s perched on a little ledge that overlooks the rest of the camp, able to see anything coming or going before anyone on the ground can. You’re not great with a gun, but since the world went to shit, you can handle yourself pretty well.

You want to help protect the camp and everyone in it, especially since you asked Rick to pick up another reusable water bottle for you while he was in town. The look on his face was so priceless it actually made you a little sad.

“Doesn’t just sound weird,” Daryl replies, shifting to get more comfortable on the grassy ground. There’s another rock for him to sit on, but it’s something you’ve noticed about him - Daryl always chooses to sit close to the ground, even if there’s a proper place for him to sit. “It is weird,” he grumbles the last part, busying himself with chucking a rock a few feet away while a squirrel scampers up a tree. He curses under his breath, no doubt pissed at himself for not securing another meal.

You’re distracting him. You should feel bad, but you don’t.

Before walkers and the end of the world as you knew it, you used to be so concerned with manners. Worried about what others thought about you more than you worried about your own well being. You’re not like that anymore. It’s a dark, although funny thought - that it took something as drastic as an apocalypse to finally rid you of your people pleasing habit.

There’s a crunching sound a few yards away that has the both of you tensing up, frozen while you listen for the sound of growling, but it never comes. Daryl visibly relaxes after a minute, which is your cue to start talking again. He just listens, although from the angle you’re sitting at, you swear you see him roll his eyes.

“You ever think about how weird it is, the stuff we miss?” You ask, but you already know he’s not going to reply. Daryl rarely replies, but you know he’s listening. You don’t have any real proof that he is - but what else would he be doing while you chat his ear off? He can stand up for himself, doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do - if he didn’t want you talking to him, he’d tell you to fuck off.

It’s a small victory you hold close to your heart - the fact that he just puts up with you. You continue. “I mean, everyone always says they miss things like hot showers, electricity, or whatever. I do, but I guess it’s not the thing I miss the most. For me, it’s cookies. But not bakery cookies. The kind of cookies you get from the store, the cheap ones. When you flatten the cookie dough yourself, and no matter what, always burn them or undercook them,” as you talk about it, you can taste the ghost of cookies past on your tongue. It waters a little, your mouth, which goes to show you just how hungry you are.

All you eat these days are protein bars and uncooked cans of whatever food the group can find. Sometimes, with your eyes closed and your breath held, you’ll try bits of squirrel or owl or whatever other animal Daryl hunts and shares with the group, but even the thought makes you nauseated. You never knew you’d be able to have preferences when the other choice is starving to death, but the difficult human spirit prevails, you suppose.

Daryl glances at you, and although it’s pretty dark, the moon shines light enough that you can see his expression. You’d expect his face to be mean, aggravated - tired. Listening to a young woman ramble about baking cookies while his body is on high alert to protect an entire fucking camp - but instead, Daryl’s expression is soft. He lets you continue, although his reaction does remind you that you’re also on guard. But aren’t you always?

The gun strapped to your hip and the knife in the pocket of your boot feel extra heavy at the reminder.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your voice low. God forbid a fucking walker kills you or anyone else in this group because you couldn’t shut up about cookies.

“Maybe it’s stupid, you know? I just,” you look down, playing with the zipper on your jacket. Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed. On the spot. Daryl probably thinks you’re a fucking idiot. Your face heats up.

But it’s not just the cookies. You leave out the part where the cookies remind you of your parents. How your mom, when she was alive, used to make them for you after a rough day. That those cookies were the staple of every sleepover you’ve ever had with your best friends. How those cookies were -

“It ain’t,” Daryl’s voice takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him, brows furrowed. You catch his eyes for only a second, before he looks away quickly, pretending to be occupied by something on the dirty ground. “It ain’t stupid,” he finishes.

You wonder that night, after Rick and the others come back to relieve you and Daryl of your duty, while you’re laid up in your sleeping bag that hardly protects you from the cold - what does Daryl miss? Sure, out of everyone in the group, he’s most equipped at living this kind of life. Knows how to hunt, can stomach raw fucking meat, isn’t scared of anything, or so he says. What reminds him of home? What thoughts comfort him?

Surely, whatever those thoughts are, they’re not as dumb as store bought cookie dough.

But what Daryl said stuck with you. Not stupid. You fall asleep, albeit with one eye open, feeling a little less cold.

Because for a moment, Daryl’s understanding?

It made the world feel a little less broken.

────

“Gross,” you mutter, blood slashing on your face. You just shot a walker in the head, and your ears are ringing from the loud noise of the gun. You’ll never get used to firing that thing. How loud it is, the way your hand shakes even minutes after you pull the trigger.

Daryl comes from behind you, and he lets out a laugh. It’s low, short - if you weren’t trained to hear the noise, you’d miss it. Because really - it’s like you’ve literally trained yourself to look for little cues that Daryl is having a good time. Or, since you doubt anyone these days is having a good time, at least that he’s alright. That he’s not annoyed at you for hanging around him or talking to him or irritated at your presence in general.

“Blood on your face grosses you out, but you’ll pick through walker guts for a bottle of nail polish,” he shakes his head, but it's not like he’s judging. In fact, Daryl actually seems a little…fond? He’s teasing you, and normally the reputation you have in this group as a girl that’s afraid to get her hands dirty, too girly to do anything for yourself - it stings.

But not when it comes from Daryl. You can tell he’s teasing, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“Didn’t dig in walker guts for that nail polish,” you remind him, even as he walks past you to lead the way. You glance at his back, the angel wings on his leather vest, and will yourself to stop the heat rushing to your face and the arousal pooling in your belly at how fucking strong he is. Big arms, muscles that look like he should be on the cover of a body building magazine instead of in these creepy woods with a crossbow. You gulp. “There was a little blood in the nail polish section when we did a run the other day. I cleaned it off the bottle I wanted. No biggie.”

Daryl scoffs, and you smile. “Yer crazy, girl,” he replies, and at that you look down at your nails. Baby pink, the same color you always used to choose when you’d get your nails done back at home. You could shiver with pleasure, just from thinking about the feeling of warm water on your hands, someone paying special attention to your cuticles - lotion, that you don't have to share with every other woman at the camp. The polish you’re wearing, painted just two days ago, is chipped and stained red with walker blood, but it’s better than nothing.

Makes you feel a little more human. A little more like a woman. A little more like yourself.

Now, if only you could find some hairspray and a razor.

You’ve been joining Daryl whenever he lets you - or, more truthfully, whenever Rick tells Daryl it’s okay for you to join him. Rick still doesn’t believe that you know what you’re doing, thinks of you as a liability, but you’re determined to prove yourself. You got to go on a run the other day, and today, Daryl went to check out the perimeter of the grassy hill the group is currently camping in, and you volunteered to go with him.

“You sure?” Rick had asked when the plan was originally made, looking at Daryl with squinted eyes. He pretended like you didn’t exist, even as you were standing right next to him. Daryl nodded. “S’okay with me. I’ll look out for her. Bring yer gun,” he told you, and you nodded, skipping after him down the trail.

Around Daryl, and maybe this is why you like him so much - it’s easy to feel like a woman. Easy to feel safe, too. Daryl just knows what he’s doing, and he’s so strong, big, can handle so much. Being around him feels good, but you know it’s all just a farce.

You’re not safe and neither is Daryl, a fact that becomes even clearer when you almost trip on a dead body by a stream you’re both passing on the way back to camp, alerting a walker that was only a few yards away. Daryl was able to kill him with an arrow, but it was a close call.

One minute, laughing and talking. The next, like you’re begging death to open the door after ringing his doorbell a few too many times.

You walk back to camp in silence, walker blood splattered on the both of you. When you get back, it’s nearly dark, and you help a few of the other women finish some laundry and keep an eye on a few restless kids. Life sucks in this world as an adult - but you can’t imagine living like this as a kid. Although, you think, watching them throw dirt at each other and believe the food their mothers are giving them really tastes just like chicken nuggets, maybe being so clueless is for the best.

After dinner, on your way to your tent, you see Rick and Daryl talking. You try to listen in, pretending that you’re just getting your sleeping bag ready for bed, but you don’t hear anything of importance. Meaning, you don’t hear either of them bring up your name. You feel like a highschooler, desperate for friends, eager to belong - hoping your crush notices you.

Because that’s what this is with Daryl, isn’t it? You’ve got a crush on him. Butterflies, wanting his attention, looking for excuses to be around him. It’s pathetic but a little beautiful, you admit - that even in a situation like this, where death surrounds every person, no matter who they are - there’s room in the human spirit for a little love.

A crush, you think again, fixing your nails in your tent. You can almost convince yourself that life isn’t so horrible, just for a minute, until the woman you share your tent with comes in for bed and complains that the smell of the polish is too strong and makes it hard for her to sleep.

Okay, bitch, you say in your head. It’s not like the walker guts and dead bodies beyond our tent smell any better. You bite your tongue and walk out of the tent, making your way to the empty clearing a little ways away from the tents. It’s so quiet, there’s no way you wouldn’t hear a walker if one was to come around you, but you have a knife on you just in case. No gun, since the noise would just draw more to you.

You think these things through. You just wish Rick, and the rest of the group, would see that too.

It’s dark, except for the moon and the stars shining pretty above you. Maybe the little fact you read online years ago about the environment is true - people are the cause of everything bad and all the pollution. A little more than half a year into the apocalypse, and there’s no smog clogging up the skies. It’s a gorgeous night.

You sit with your hands flat on the ground, waiting for your nails to dry. You get a good few minutes of silence, until the noise of footsteps has you nearly jumping out of your boots, reaching for your knife, only to realize that it’s not a walker, but Daryl coming to plop down next to you.

“Gosh, Daryl. You scared me,” you complain, letting out a whine. He doesn’t say anything, just sits next to you on the ground, although he moves so his back is facing your back. Makes sense, so you're both safe from all angles. Daryl always thinks about little things like that.

He’s quiet for long enough that you start to think of something to fill the silence. “Damnit,” you mutter, letting out a huff. “I ruined my nails.”

“Oh, quit it,” Daryl replies. “Whatcha doin’ out here all by yerself? You got a death wish, girl?” You’re mortified that Daryl is scolding you like you’re a kid, like you’re an idiot, and coming from him it just hurts even more.

You’ve always had an even temper, but in this new world, you lose it more often than you used to. It’s probably just the way life is now - the stress, the hunger, the cold and the dirt and the sweat and the lack of anything that used to bring anyone joy. It makes everyone crazy.

“Yeah, well - ‘m sure your buddy Rick hopes a walker gets to me. Know he was talking shit about me earlier.” You sniffle, but you’re not crying yet - it just really hurts, that you feel like such dead weight at this camp. You’ve never really been insecure, but you feel like nobody likes you. Nobody understands you. And yeah, surviving is more important than being miss popular with a group of people in the apocalypse, but everyone’s always talking about this group being family. Does that include you? It doesn’t feel like it these days.

Daryl is silent, as you expected. Normally you don’t mind the company, even if it’s a mute one, but tonight you’re feeling on edge. Until Daryl speaks. “Rick ain’t my friend. No one wants you to die, kid. Yer too much,” he mutters, and then you stand up, aggravated and not wanting to take it out on him.

You begin to walk away when Daryl reaches out and grabs your ankle to stop you. “Daryl,” you warn, as if you’d do anything to retaliate even if he pulled you on the ground with him. But you keep up the hard ass attitude - it feels good, you admit, being difficult for once. You don’t get to be anything but accommodating at camp.

“Rick and I were sayin’ how valuable you are to the group. How much you’ve grown,” he explains, and you roll your eyes, make a show of stomping away, knowing, loving that Daryl is right on your heels. Because there’s no reason for him to stay in that clearing - he’s not on watch tonight. He was only hanging around there for you.

Despite acting like Rick’s comment meant nothing to you, on the inside, as you walk to your tent, you fight a smile. So Rick has noticed your effort. That’s all you wanted, except -

You realize that maybe approval you wanted so badly never needed to come from Rick -

Because the approval from Daryl feels pretty damn good.

────

Daryl fixes you with a look that makes you burst out laughing.

You’ve only been at this spot in the woods for a few weeks, but so far, quality of life among the camp has improved. Almost a year in this new world, and this is the first time anyone’s ever slept with both eyes closed since before people turned into the living dead. There’s a river nearby perfect for fishing, and tonight at the campfire, you had your first taste of - what did Daryl call it?

Sushi.

“Just so you know,” you say, crossing a leg over the other on the little log you’re sitting on. The sun is going down, and the sky is a pretty shade of pink and even a little purple. You wonder if nature has always been this beautiful - you’d always just been too preoccupied to see it. You put a tiny piece of the fish Daryl caught and cooked into your mouth, surprised at the taste. You don’t have to fake your reaction. It’s not bad at all - but you wouldn’t necessarily say it’s good. Tastes better than another can of old spaghetti rings though, that’s for sure.

Still, you can’t help teasing. You finish your original statement. “Sushi tastes much better than this.”

Daryl smiles, just slightly. And not the fake kind of smile he does when he’s just trying to be polite. Like when an elderly man from the group tells a joke no one else laughs at, or when the strap of your last bra broke and you started crying until Rick promised, cheeks red, that he’d look for your size on the next run.

Right now, it seems like Daryl’s actually having a good time.

The thought makes you smile.

“Thank you,” you tell Daryl, and you swear you see him blush. “It's better than sushi, really.”

“Yeah,” Daryl says, nodding. He’s grown uncomfortable with the compliments already. “It’s the best yer gonna get.” Others from the group join you around the campfire, and then Daryl takes off, but not before giving you one last lingering gaze. He has small eyes, you’ve noticed - a little hooded, but so beautiful. He’s incredibly handsome, in a unique way. A pretty, no, beautiful man. His stare burns you, warms you up even with the chill in the air.

It’s only later, when the rest of the group clears off and you and Daryl are alone again, that he speaks. He’s sharpening a knife, leaning on the side of a camper van for support, and you’re at a makeshift sink (bucket) washing the dishes. It was your least favorite chore before this new world, and it’s still your least favorite after.

But, if you let your mind go there - something about the dynamic between Daryl cooking dinner and you cleaning the dishes up has you -

No. You’ve got to stop acting so juvenile.

On one hand, this little crush you have on Daryl is something positive that gets you through the day. Waiting to talk to him, excited to be around him - it shines light on a dark, terrible reality. On the other hand, getting attached to anyone at this camp is a bad idea. You just lost someone else a few days ago.

The reality, that death really is lurking everywhere - that something could happen to you, or Daryl…it makes your palms sweat and your breathing become erratic. The reality of this new world is just so scary and cruel.

You’re done with the dishes and you dry your hands on an old flannel that the camp uses as a dish towel. You feel Daryl watching you, and you like it.

“What are you looking at?” You tease, pushing some hair away from your face. “There a walker behind me or something?

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t look at no walker like that,” he grumbles, but then he must realize what he said - what it really means. You’re so excited you’re almost vibrating, wondering, realizing now - that maybe this crush isn’t one sided. But you still try to play it cool, even as Daryl shakes his head, says, “Wasn’t lookin’ at nuthin.’”

You don’t know what to say to that. You begin to walk away, excited to spend the rest of the night in your tent going over this interaction until you fall asleep, but what Daryl says next stops you in your tracks. You freeze.

“Gotta get you a bra on the nex’ run,” he says, and your knees feel weak. “Those things almos’ poked me in the eye. You cold or sumthin’?’”

You fast walk to your tent, nearly crying from embarrassment - but your entire body is dizzy with excitement. It’s adrenaline, but not the same kind you get when you’re running or kill a walker and make it out alive - a different kind, one you haven’t felt since maybe even before the walkers. It lights you up inside, makes it hard to breathe - and the funniest part?

Daryl has no idea your nipples are hard because you’re aroused - all from watching him sharpen a knife. What can you say? A man who can handle a weapon like that can surely handle…other things.

────

The fire crackles as you sit back, the warmth from the flames doing little to ease the chill in your bones. It’s freezing outside, but you’re under a warm blanket, and if you delude yourself enough you can almost convince yourself that this is just a toasty evening with friends and not a risky fire that could very well lead walkers directly to the camp.

But there’s nothing the group can do - it’s simply too cold to go without a fire tonight. Even Daryl, king of having his arms always showing, is in a jacket tonight. Which sucks, because you really love looking at his arms…but this is survival.

There’s hushed conversation while Rick tells a story, a few pairs to the side chattering, and you feel left out until you notice that Daryl isn’t talking to anyone either. He’s just looking at the ground, then the fire, gaze flickering to you every few minutes.

And you only notice that because your eyes can’t stay off of him. You can’t help it - it’s like you’re always looking for him. There’s something about that man, as dumb as it sounds, that makes him feel like your own security blanket. Even seeing him from across the camp, just a glimpse, can settle your nerves like nothing else.

Suddenly, a voice from next to you tries to get your attention. It’s Derek, a decent looking guy about your age - but he’s pretty useless, as far as skills go. He accompanies the rest of the men for runs into town, can kill a walker if necessary, but he’s selfish and all about himself. Won’t even take watch at night, says it interferes with his sleep. You can’t stand him.

You try to avoid his gaze and pretend to be busy, picking at your cuticles and hoping he leaves you alone, but no such luck.

“Look at you, princess,” he teases, and you cringe so hard you wonder if it’s visible. It’s embarrassing, being referred to like that - so what, that you like the color pink and happen to be attractive? You’re not hurting anyone. The clothes you’re wearing, the pink clips you have to hold your hair back, the floral printed pillow case - those were all things you had before the world went to shit.

You didn’t know the apocalypse had a dress code.

You’re sick of being teased. Of being reduced to this overly feminine character - as if you don’t keep watch just as much as the men. As if you don’t kill walkers when they get close to the camp, while the other women hide. As if you don’t cook, and clean, and -

Derek is still talking.

You sneak a glance across the campfire at Daryl, who holds your gaze for a minute before dropping it. You look back down too, play with your fingers on your lap. You’d go to your tent right now if you weren’t scared about the safety of falling asleep with no one actively on watch.

“So, what’d you all do before this?” Derek asks, leaning forward. He’s asking the group, but he’s looking at you, which means - you’re supposed to go first?

You wonder if this has anything to do with what you told Cindy, someone you used to share a tent with before she found room in another one. There’s not much to do these days when you’re not cooking or cleaning or hunting or moving - lots of time to sit and talk. The apocalypse is so much more boring than you ever anticipated. You shared a lot about your past with her, but surely she wouldn’t gossip about you to the others in the camp?

You thought girl code was still a thing, even in these trying times.

Everyone is silent, waiting for your answer. Even Daryl and Rick seem interested, which makes you feel even worse. You wanted to fit in, not be the center of attention.

You shift uncomfortably, before clearing your throat. You can feel Cindy’s eyes on you, sitting just a few people down. “Nothing special. Just,” you pause and shrug, unsure of what to say. “Whatever I had to. To survive.”

Back then, surviving was all about money, and ever since your parents died when you were a teenager, money is the one thing you never had enough of. One thing you did have though, is your beauty. So you used it, to get the things you needed, and sometimes a little more - but it all boiled down to one thing, just like it does now - to survive.

That’s all life is about, really? Take away the frills, the fun - people just want to stay alive, no matter how rough things get.

So - you had a boyfriend to pay your rent. A man that loved to take you shopping. A lonely guy who paid off your car. You’ve never lived in luxury, but you always made it. Always got by. Had the things you needed and a little bit more. Always -

“Yeah, well, we all knew you were a whore.”

The words leave Derek’s mouth and you’re frozen. Speechless - and that never happens to you. You’re so shocked at what he said that your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and it’s only then that you realize the bottle of hard liquor on his lap.

You glare at Cindy, who quickly gets up and runs to her tent, more scared of you than walkers apparently - good, you think, because she’s such a bitch for talking about you behind your back. You try to be cool about it, to laugh it off like Derek is so wrong it doesn’t even deserve a reaction, but you’re so embarrassed you feel your chest aching.

Has everyone known about your history the entire time you’ve been at camp? You shared those stories with Cindy in the beginning, one of the first nights you arrived, desperate for some comfort. Is that why everyone treats you so differently from the rest? Is that why you’re the black sheep of a fucking camp formed during the apocalypse?

Does Daryl know?

You’re ready to defend yourself, but you don’t get to. Because Daryl is around the fire so fast you don’t even have time to blink, grabbing Derek by the collar of his shirt and pounding his fists into his face.

The sound of knuckles against bone is excruciating, makes you want to hurl - but you don’t tell him to stop. You’re frozen, and anyway, Derek deserves it, doesn’t he?

It’s Rick, and a few other men that pull Daryl off of Derek, who’s sporting an eye so swollen it won’t shut and a busted lip, a cheek that’ll be purple for the next few weeks for sure. “Whore,” he spits, still able to talk, even as someone drags him away. “Man, shut up already,” one of the guys says to him, but nobody eases the sting of what he says.

Daryl wipes sweat from his brow while Rick walks off to talk to Derek, but he can’t get a word in with the shit the other man is spewing. “Fucking whore,” he keeps grumbling. “There’s no money to milk from men anymore, is there? Bet you put out for that fish Dixon caught for you. Did you do the same for that new bra? Or that water bottle Rick brought back for you? Almost died you know, getting that shit for you, maybe you can thank me with,” Rick kicks him in the ribs before he can finish and tells him to shut up in that leader voice of his.

You run off, now that the rest of the group has scattered, but you hear Daryl yell out, “Yeah, man, you should’ve died,” with a string of curse words. “All you fuckin’ people looking’ at her. Yer all whores in your own way. Useless too,” he continues, but you don’t hear it because you get into your tent and zip it up.

Great. All this drama, and now nobody is ever going to fucking like you now. You’ll be the black sheep forever, won’t you? It’s a harsh wake up call, and you’re thankful you’re alone. Your tentmate must’ve taken her daughter out to be with the other kids, away from the rowdiness at the fucking campfire. You sniffle, and climb into your sleeping bag.

A minute later, before you’ve even had time to process what’s happening, Daryl enters the tent. He’s so big, it’s hard for him to fit, but he manages - cursing and crouching in a way that would make you laugh if this wasn’t such a depressing situation.

He sits next to your sleeping bag. Knees bent, arms around his legs. He just sort of watches you. You look anywhere but his face, but you notice his knuckles are bloody red and torn, all because of you.

“Didn’t have to defend me,’ you say, instead of thank you. “I wasn’t a whore, so,” but Daryl cuts you off.

“Don’t matter what you were. He shouldn’t talk to you like that. Little prick deserves his ass kicked anyway. Can’t even shoot straight,” it’s like this moment is as uncomfortable for him as it is for you. You share a look, but you look away first, afraid of the intensity. You’ve never had someone stand up for you before - not like this. What are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to do?

You say nothing at all. A few more minutes go by, with your vision blurry as you stare at Daryl’s knuckles and he stares at the hole that shows the grassy ground in the bottom of your tent. Finally, he sighs, annoyed, and even though you’re not talking you’re still worried he’s going to leave. He’s your teddy bear after all, right? Your security blanket. Maybe you’re selfish - but you don't want him to go.

And he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl adjusts his position so he can reach into his pocket and pull something out. It’s bright pink, satin looking - you wonder if he’s going to hand you a pair of racy panties just to seal the deal that he thinks you’re a slut. A whore.

But is he wrong? The look of the muscles in his arm, at his sheer size - at the smell of him, so masculine and woodsy in this little tent it almost makes you dizzy with want.

After what just happened, how can you be thinking about sex? Maybe you are a slut. A whore. You’ve done things for money before, but -

Daryl hands the piece of pink satin to you. “S’posed to be a ribbon,” he says, shrugging. He’s embarrassed you realize, and it’s cute. “Found it on a toy, er, teddy bear, thought you might like it. If you don’t, I,” but you cut him off, scoot closer to him as you tie it around your wrist.

“Thank you, Daryl,” you say softly, sweetly - and it feels so natural to lean in and press your lips against his cheek. His body is warm, and when you grip his bicep every cell in your body is on fire with desire. He must’ve taken his jacket off after the fight. If it could even be called that, with the way Daryl jumped Derek. Fights are usually a two way street.

Your heart swells, at the fact that he protected you. Thought about you on a run. Saw something and thought of you. Men have bought you things before, of course - but never something personal like this. Never something you didn’t have to ask for beforehand, for nothing in return.

Daryl, he - he gives you feelings so fuzzy and pure in your chest that you almost forget you’re sleeping just a few feet away from a forest of dead bodies.

He doesn’t wipe his cheek when you pull away after the kiss, which is a step in the right direction. You’ve seen Daryl lose his shit over the intimacy of a simple thank you hug with someone else from camp before.

You feel special.

“Was nothin,’” he says, before pausing. He looks at you, then away again, wringing his hands before continuing. “Don’t feel any typa way about doin’ what you had to do to survive, ya hear me? I know what it’s like to do what you hav’to to live, ya know? That fucker. He doesn't have a clue about makin’ it on your own. How tough it can be. Don’ listen to the shit he’s got to say. Don’t listen to none of these people,” he won’t look at you, but you look at him, the side profile of his face so handsome you want to reach out and touch him. But you refrain.

Instead, you squeeze his arm, bicep tan and bulging. You lick your bottom lip. “Daryl,” you interrupt him and he looks at you, gaze on your eyes, then your lips, then to the pretty ribbon tied around your wrist. He visibly swallows, before looking back at your eyes. His eyes are blue, pretty. Too pretty for a man as rugged as him, but what’s the saying?

A person who is good on the inside - their beauty shines through. You think that’s true about Daryl. At this moment, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a man as beautiful as him. You breathe him in, going crazy over his pheromones - his smell. You can feel your body getting aroused at his closeness, and he’s not even doing anything sexual.

“Next time,” you say, teasing tone in your voice, “Can you bring the whole bear?”

────

“Look at us,” you say, trying not to skip beside Daryl. A mood this good feels eerie in this new world, but you can’t help the way you feel.

Daryl asked you to join him for a walk, and ever since that night when he gave you the ribbon in your tent - you’ve been closer than ever. You wear the ribbon around your wrist every single day, except for right now, when you’re wearing it to hold some of your hair back.

You’re not sure what’s going on with you and Daryl, but there’s a freedom about it that fills you with joy. Helps you exhale easier in this crazy, cruel world - because he’s safe, and you like being around him, and he obviously likes you too, right? Or he wouldn’t ask you to go for a walk every single day, wouldn’t pay special attention to you during meals, making sure you’re eating enough -

And he really wouldn’t have kissed you against a tree during his watch last week if he had any bad feelings towards you.

Things at the camp are complicated, because that stunt Derek pulled separated the group. There’s people that hate you, because they’re really mad at Daryl - but nobody can be actually mad at Daryl, since he does so much for the entire group. Catches animals for food, is one of the strongest men besides Rick. You’re not exactly his girl, not even close, but you know that the only reason you haven’t been used as walker bait is because of Daryl’s status at the camp.

When he kissed you, just a few weeks after that night in the tent - it was so much softer than you imagined. Because, yeah - you imagined what it would be like to kiss Daryl Dixon. Ever since you met him, really. He’s so tough, so crass, such a force. It’s always been an opinion of yours, that the toughest people really just need some softness. You wonder now, when he smiles shyly at you as you walk past a stream, if you’re that softness for him these days.

“Look at us, what, girlie?” He asks, and you stifle a giggle, trying to remain serious for the bit of the joke. You brush your hand against his as you walk, wondering when he’ll grab it. Wondering when, if, he’ll ever claim you. But you’re trying not to rush things. It’s easy to get worried about time, when every single day is life and death - but there's something kind of beautiful about just going with the flow of what feels good.

Living in the present, which is literally all you have now. All anyone has. And right now, your goal in the present, is to make Daryl laugh.

“You’ve got your bow,” you say, gesturing to his weapon, “And I’ve got mine.” You flip your hair, showing off the pink, satin ribbon holding your hair away from your face. Daryl chuckles and shakes his head, but it only lasts for a second.

Your face heats, pleased with yourself for making him laugh, and then your breath hitches when he grabs hold of your hand.

“Yer sumthin’ else, girl,” he says fondly, and you walk into an area dense with trees before he nudges you against the trunk of one.

You don’t know what life was like for Daryl before walkers took over the population. You’re not sure if he had a lot, or a little, experience with women before this all happened. In fact, you don’t know a lot about Daryl at all. He’s closed off, he’s a little mean sometimes, too tough for his own good -

But god, the way he kisses.

Hesitant, like he’s scared to take something he didn’t earn. You want to tell him that every single part of you, he has earned. You’ve known him for more time than your longest relationship. You’ve seen each other filthy, desperate, depraved. Covered in blood, covered in guts - starving, dirty, depressed. For a man that hardly talks, Daryl somehow knows you better than any man, maybe even any other person, ever has.

He stood up for you. He tries to take care of you. He’s a good friend, he’s -

When he slips a hand to your hip and drops his crossbow on the ground, squeezes at your skin in a way that’s so possessive it makes your breath hitch, you literally let out a cry. Against your lips, Daryl murmurs, “Quiet, ‘less you wanna have a threesum with a walker.” His tongue tastes like cigarettes, a little bit like the apple juice one of the kids at the camp wanted him to try, because he’s a good sport, even if his resting bitch face might suggest otherwise.

There’s something about him ordering you around that does it for you. You let him take charge of the kiss, but you grab his roaming hand and move it to your breast. He squeezes, but in your new bra, you don’t feel the friction you’re so desperately craving from him rubbing over your nipples. You want more, and you whine, trying not to be greedy but it’s just so damn hard.

Against the tree, Daryl slips a leg between yours, and you shamelessly bend down to try to rub your aching core against it. “Daryl,” you whine, and he laughs, pulling away to look at you, his hair that’s getting longer plastered against his forehead with sweat. Everything about him is overwhelming. His smell, intense, his lips, delicious, his strength and size, so fucking hot you just want to curl up in the pocket of his shirt and stay safe forever.

Because you don’t have a doubt in your mind - Daryl would keep you safe. You wonder, why you wasted your time with finance guys and entrepreneurs and men who’d never gotten their hands dirty, back when life was normal. Daryl, with calloused fingertips and his thick accent, a country boy through and through - he pleases you, makes you happier than anyone you’ve ever met before.

Yeah, even in the apocalypse, you can find the romance. You kiss Daryl deeper.

He moves his hand down from your breast to slip it into your pants, and he lets out a low noise in his throat at the feeling of your wetness already. Just from kissing him. You’re not ashamed - it’s been a long time since anyone touched your pussy like this, a long time since you even touched it yourself. There’s just no time alone, and you share a tent, and -

“Yer soakin,’” Daryl comments, and your entire body flushes with humiliation. But the good kind. You nod. “For you,” you whisper, and he leans his forehead against yours before capturing your lips in his again.

Just as you expected, Darly is good with his fingers. He positions one of your legs over his hip so he has better access to finger you, rough hands, the calloused pads of his thumb dragging over your clit, so swollen after so long without cumming. It’s not going to take long, you know, to completely fucking burst. You want it so bad, to come apart on his fingers, to show him just how good you can be. He’s knuckle deep inside of you while still also putting pressure on your clit when you let out a screech, thankful you opened your eyes in time to see the walker coming from behind Daryl.

You push him off of you until he curses and tries to pick up his crossbow, fingers still slick with your pussy, but you beat him to it. You grab the knife out of your boot, even though your body feels like jelly, and you slam it into the walker’s forehead as hard as you can. You huff and puff, because it takes a lot out of you, and when the walker is on the ground you slam your boot into its face a few too many times until the bottom of your shoe is covered with walker brains.

“He’s dead,” Daryl says behind you. “Don’ waste yer energy.” You roll your eyes, wiping sweat from your face with a bandana you had in your pocket.

“I know. That’s for him ruining my orgasm,” you say out loud, and behind you, Daryl lets out a low whistle. You’re really humiliated now, but what are the chances? A fucking walker trying to eat Daryl while you’re trying to get him to eat you? Some fucking luck.

There’s still blood splattering on your face, and you turn to Daryl, wiping it with your sleeve. “Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” you say sheepishly, unsure of how to read his bland expression. But just because a walker interrupted, doesn’t mean you don’t want to continue your little fingering session. Just in case, shame out the window, you reach for him. Daryl backs away slightly.

“Slow down,” he says, pulling away from you. “Don’ wanna fuck you in the forest,” and you understand, but also - where else can you have sex? Everyone’s always watching each other. When else can you get some time alone?

Daryl looks down at the bulge in his pants, and you reach down and grope him, like some kind of horny harlot. Maybe you are. He watches you, the color of your nails, your tiny hand - and he lets out a groan himself.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says, leaving you speechless and wet in the middle of the woods. He starts to walk away, but his head is turned to you and his eyes never leave you. You know it’s because he’s making sure you’re safe, watching over you, even with his dick chubbing up in his pants. He tugs his weapon up to rest on his shoulder.

If that’s not a man, you don’t know what is.

“Daryl,” you start to say, following him, about to beg him for something more, but he just throws an arm around your shoulders and tugs you along. You use the opportunity with his hand on your shoulder to tie the ribbon around his wrist, a small mark of your ownership. You wonder what he’ll say about that, if he’ll be mad -

He just squeezes your shoulder. “Not tryna deny you. I want you. Me and the little guy,” he looks down to his cock in his pants, obviously referring to that. “Yer just too pretty to do somethin’ like that in the woods. My tent, tonight?” You know that his tent mate is keeping watch tonight, so you’ll be alone for a good amount of time. Enough time to - you shiver just thinking about it.

You nod eagerly.

“You sure you’re not just disgusted at what I just did?” You phrase it like a joke, gently rubbing your lips on the healing cuts of his knuckles, but you’re serious. Maybe seeing a woman behave greedy, wanting, desperate - violent - maybe it was a huge turn off.

Daryl shakes his head and tugs you closer, presses his lips to the top of your head. “Nah,” he assures, looking back down to the bulge in his pants. It’s even more noticeable than before. He takes the hand he used to finger you and sucks the digits, covered in your slick, into his mouth. The muscles in your cunt clench, at the way his cheekbones look, the level of lust in his eyes aimed at you.

“That was fuckin’ sexy,” he assures, popping his fingers out of his mouth.

────

At dinner that night, which is squirrel - so you settle for half a protein bar and a bruised apple, Rick sits down beside you. You’re eating away from everyone else, because Daryl’s helping someone with something like he always is, but it’s alright because you’re in your own world, thinking about what’s to come later tonight with him.

You’re in a trance, remembering the way he scratched at your scalp fondly when he walked you to your tent and watched you bend down to get inside. “Don’t sprain yer wrist before tonight,” he joked, insinuating you’d be finishing yourself off. He went off with a wink, leaving you reeling - because since when did Daryl Dixon joke around?

You’ve been riding on a high for the rest of the night.

Rick sitting beside you takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him and swallow the bit of stale protein bar you’ve been chewing for probably ten minutes, quirking an eyebrow at him. He’s so serious, it’s annoying.

Don’t get it wrong - you like Rick. Appreciate everything he’s done, does for the camp - he’s just so intense, but he’s handsome in his own right too. Not your normal type, but then again - neither is Daryl. You just don’t understand a man like Rick, and he doesn’t get you. But he’s the best thing this group has, because he has everyone's interest at heart. Even someone like Daryl, well -

He puts himself, and you by extension now, maybe - first. It’s not a bad thing, in fact, you find both sides of the coin admirable in their own way.

“What’s up, Rick?” You finally ask. He looks down to his hands, before nodding behind you, and you turn and look at what he’s referring to - it’s Daryl, looking angrily at Derek, who’s by the fire drunkenly talking shit about everything while people try to calm him down. You sigh.

“You and Daryl,” Rick says, and you’re not sure what to say to that - statement? Accusation? You just nod. “What about us?” You ask, and you really don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not sure why whatever you’re doing with Daryl is any of Rick, or anyone��s, business?

You expect a lecture. Something about needing to earn your keep, to stop distracting him, to make things right with Derek. Instead, Rick just pats you on the back, literally.

“You’re good for him,” he says, before awkwardly walking off when someone calls his name. No doubt for a crisis that could easily be solved without his help. You feel sorta bad for Rick - people are so stressed, so traumatized in this new world, that they don’t want to use their brains at all. They put all their problems, no matter how small, on Rick, and that’s gotta be hard.

You want to call out some sort of acknowledgement for all he does as he walks away, but Daryl begins walking towards you before you get the chance. You’re still looking towards Rick. “You checkin’ the boss out?” Daryl jokes, with something like possessiveness or jealousy in his tone. It burns you in the best way possible - that Daryl might worry about something like that.

What can you say? You’ve always thought a possessive man was hot.

Daryl plops down beside you. You’re sitting on a log, but he’s on the ground. Typical Daryl behavior. He wraps a hand around your ankle - and suddenly you’re very glad you got a chance to shave with the razor you stole from someone’s pile of toiletries after the last run.

“That all yer eatin?’” He asks, referring to the empty wrapper in your hand. You shake your head and show off your sorry apple, but Daryl just shakes his head and scoffs. “Tha’s not enough. You can’t be picky about,” but he stops when he sees the expression on your face.

You’ve talked to him about this before. He didn’t reply, but you know he was listening. Food - it’s the only thing you can be a little picky about. Everything else, you don't have any choice over. Where the camp goes, who you share a tent with. Food and now, this thing with Daryl - that’s all the power you have. Daryl nods, like he gets it but doesn’t like it, and then changes the subject.

“Are you cold?” You ask, and Daryl laughs. As kind as he is to you, you know that he’s uncomfortable when you, or anyone, tries to show any kind of care for him. He nods his chin towards the ratty blanket you’re using. “You gon’ share with me, girlie?” You shake your head, a grin spreading across your face.

“No,” you say, tossing the blanket, the apple, and the wrapper into a duffle bag next to the log you’re sitting on. “Just thought I could warm you up in your tent.” Daryl looks like a deer caught in headlights as he peaks over your shoulder to where the rest of the group is getting ready for bed, his tent mate grabbing a gun before heading to the area where he’ll keep watch while everyone sleeps.

Daryl nods. “Yer dirty,” he grumbles, standing up, but he runs his hands up and down his bare arms like he’s feigning being cold. “C’mon then. You gunna warm me up or what?”

────

The first time Daryl fucked you, he went slow. Took his time, opening you up with his thick fingers, even though you didn’t need the extra time. You were aching, wet - desperate for him to shove his cock inside of you, because you’d been thinking about it for too long. Too much kissing, humping, friction between the two of you - all you wanted, could imagine, was how his cock would feel against your throbbing center.

When he finally thrusted inside of you, stretched you out and began to fuck into you, he didn’t let himself go like you always imagined. Insecurely, you narrowed your eyes, even as your back arched off of his sleeping bag. “When’s the last time?” You asked, referring to the last time he had sex. Daryl just let out a shaky laugh and calmed your fears with a thrust that made your toes curl and a moan escape your lips.

“Long enough, pretty girl,” he assured, all while you huffed in brat and dug your nails into his shoulders. “Jus’ wanna enjoy it. We’ve finally got the time.” And Daryl was right, but really, when is he ever wrong?

The first time you had sex you got to enjoy going slow. But the rest of the times after that - and there’s been a lot now, it’s always a quickie. A rush, because shit hit the fan at your current camp soon after the first night together. The entire group had to move, you lost people to walkers (though not Derek, unfortunately), and now getting off with Daryl only happens in quick spurts whenever you’re alone.

In a way, the drama surrounding the camp has made the two of you closer.

When the entire group has to drive down a walker infested highway, normally you’d be in a camper van with the other women and children, but Daryl has your back.

“You’re ridin’ with me,” he says, shooting Rick a look before anyone can object. As he walks off, he purposely bumps his shoulder into Derek, who scoffs and does the same to you. Daryl doesn’t notice, but Rick does, and he tells Derek off before Daryl can do anything drastic like beat his ass again.

“Hey,” he warns, shoving Derek away from you. “Watch it,” Derek grumbles, glaring at you before hopping into the back of a truck with a few of the other men. “What?” He asks mockingly, because you’re frozen, watching him in a trance while Daryl starts up his bike.

Derek just can’t leave you alone - he picks on you every single chance he gets. “You got Rick standing up for you now too, huh?” He says, shaking his head in disgust. “You let him fuck you too?”

It’s not his words that hurt so much, but it’s the fact that he’s saying them at all. You’ve never done anything to Derek, have only been nice, yet he looks at you like a target and it hurts so bad your eyes threaten to spill tears. Thankfully, Daryl comes for you, and you get on the back of his bike with ease.

“You okay?” He asks, even though it’s hard to hear with the sound of the rumble from the motorcycle. You nod, and press your face into his back. Daryl takes off down the highway, leading the way while Rick follows behind, and you selfishly let yourself doze off against him. You trust Daryl, more than you’ve ever trusted another man - and that’s a lot of pressure.

Trusting anyone these days means you’re putting your life in their hands. It’s exhausting. When you tell the women at camp you’ll watch their kids while they go to the restroom, or go for a walk - essentially what you’re saying is you’ll protect their kids if shit was going south. Even just the thought, being responsible for someone else - it makes your chest heave.

Your arms are tight around Daryl as he drives. You’re not sure how long you’re on the road for when the motorcycle stops, but you know you’re much farther ahead then the rest of the group. In another life, you imagine Daryl happy and free - driving to a city, or another town on a brand new motorcycle. Maybe working in a shop. You feel a pang of sadness, that he’ll never get that.

He deserves so much more than this shit. You all do.

Except maybe Derek.

And Cindy. Fuck that bitch.

Daryl stops the bike and you get off, stretching your legs.

“You good, dolly?” He asks, and you wrinkle your nose at the nickname. You’re pretending not to like it, when in reality, it makes you tingle all over. You nod.

“You go fast,” you say, and he laughs, steps off of the bike and walks to an empty field off to the side of the highway. “‘S the only way to go. Stay here,” he orders, before walking off. He grumbles something about taking a piss and you stifle a laugh, pretending to salute him. You see his hand twitch, like he wants to jokingly flip you off, but he stops himself.

Something about that, that he won’t play rough with you, has your knees feeling wobbly. You feel like you can breathe, without the rest of the group breathing down your back, insulting you, accusing you of doing sexual things just to be treated like a human being. You try not to think about it, because you want to have a decent day and don’t want Derek to be the cause of tears when you’ve been through worse circumstances without crying. It’s hard though.

You walk around the motorcycle, eyes on the ground. You catch a glimpse of your shoelace, pink against the black of your boot, because you used the ribbon for added flair when you gave your shoelace to someone at the camp who needed a belt.

Daryl saw you, and promised you that night with his cock buried deep in your throat, “I’ll get you some more ribbons, pretty girl,” he assured, while you gagged and spit dribbled down your chin. “Too hard to hold your hair back when yer suckin’ me off like a pro.”

That comment should’ve stung, but you know Daryl didn’t mean it like that. In fact, it was so hot that you did your best, until he spilled down your throat and you licked the mess you made off of his cock and balls and thighs.

You’re lost in your thoughts, busy giving your pussy a heartbeat when you notice a little gold, bullet shaped thing on the ground. You’re not sure what it is, but if it is a bullet, you know having extra is always good. You reach down to grab it, only then realizing that it's a lipstick.

You pop open the lid. It’s a pretty pink color, and while it’s used - you can’t even remember the last time you wore makeup. You wipe the top layer off before dabbing some with your finger and putting it on, trying to check yourself out in the mirror of the motorcycle when Daryl comes back.

“The fuck are they?” He asks, zipping his pants up. He’s so, so, so - crass sometimes that it’s endearing. You shrug, and that’s when he notices the lipstick you’re wearing. His eyes are hooded, heavy with tiredness, and it makes him look all the more handsome. “There a makeup store aroun’ here I shud know about?” He teases, and you shake your head and hold up the lipstick tube.

“Found this. How’s it look?” Daryl just nods, looking at you with a strange expression. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, until he tugs you closer to him by the wrist and tentatively presses his lips against yours.

“Don’ care about the gloss,” he comments, and you resist the urge to explain it’s not gloss, it’s lipstick. “But I don’ call you pretty girl for no reason. Always pretty,” he says shyly, and Daryl is a perfect guy, but he never opens up. Hardly ever says how he feels, or what he thinks - but he’s being clear now. That he wants you, verbally, even though his actions in everything he do is always proving that to you.

It’s crazy, the feeling of happiness bubbling in your chest, all thanks to Daryl Dixon. On the fucking highway filled with walkers probably silent in their cars, with flat tires and blood stains and ramsacked belongings, you stand on your tip toes and nudge the toe of your boots against his, grabbing hold of his handsome face and peppering kisses all over. You leave pink lipstick marks, but he doesn’t know that yet - and it makes you giggle.

Putting your mark all over Daryl - you’ve never been possessive, but wow does it feel good. When you finally pull away, Daryl looks at you like you’re crazy. Then he takes a look down the highway to make sure nobody’s coming, before bending you over the front of his motorcycle.

“Grab the handlebars,” he orders, a hand on your back before roughly pulling your pants down your ass. It’s risky, knowing that the rest of the camp could drive up at any minute, but who really cares? They already think so low of you. They already -

Your eyes shut as Daryl shoves his half hard cock inside of you, and your walls clamp down around him, so tight you feel him growing. It happened so fast he wasn’t even fully hard, but now he is, small thrusts so the both of you can get used to the feeling. Your hands are cramping where they grip the bars of his bike, so tight, until it almost starts to tip. Daryl has an idea.

He pulls out, cock in hand with his fucking pants not even pulled all the way down, and he sits himself over his bike like normal. “Take em’ off,” he says, nodding towards your pants, and you obey, stripping them off until it takes too long because of your boots and Daryl just hauls you over to him.

You almost trip as he lifts you onto the bike, bent over the handlebars, eyes on the road, before he slips his cock into you. It’s like you’re sitting on his lap, and he reaches around you, fully supporting your body while rubbing your clit.

“Can you move?” He asks roughly, and you whine, trying to go up and down on his cock but it’s too hard at the angle. Daryl presses a kiss to your head, moves some of your hair back while he takes hold of your hips and ruts you back and forth over his dick. You know he’s strong, but feeling it first hand is something else entirely. It’s like you’re a doll with the way he easily controls your body, dick so thick it feels like he’s stretching your pussy into the perfect mold just for him.

“Don’ worry,” he assures, letting out a breath of pleasure right by your ear. “I got ya. Only time yer quiet ‘s when you got my cock in you, huh?”

He’s not wrong. You wish you could see his face, but this position, your back to his front, is pretty hot too.

It’s only a minute later, when his hand slips while you try to pull your body up to do some of the work, that he nearly pinches your clit and it’s the pain that sends you over the edge. You cum, that easily against him, and you cry out his name just as you both hear the sound of an engine in the distance. Daryl curses, throws his head back at the feel of your tight pussy squeezing him, and quite literally picks you up off his cock and puts you on your feet.

“Knees,” he says quickly, and you obey, because of course you do, even though the gravel of the road is a little painful on your knees. He grabs you by your hair, and forces your mouth onto his cock where he spills his load down your throat. You swallow it down and kitten lick the head of his cock clean after, admiring the pink lipstick marks all over his perfect dick as he quickly zips tucks his dick in his pants and zips up, but not before helping you get your pants back up too.

“If we live another day,” Daryl says, helping you straighten out your pants when the other cars pull up. He snaps the band of your panties, white cotton and floral print, against your skin while the rest of the group gets out of the cars to have a meeting over some bullshit, you’re sure. “I’ll return the favor,” he finishes.

You don’t know if he’s joking or not, but you pull up his arm and cuddle into his side as he stands up, his tongue on your mind even though you just came all over his cock. You wish you could’ve had time to ride your orgasm out, but you’ll take what you can get.

Rick nods to Daryl as he gets out of his truck. He looks between the two of you, and for the first time, maybe ever, - you see him smirk a little.

“‘S your color, man,” he says, closing the car door. Daryl is confused, and takes a look at himself in the rearview mirror of his motorcycle, notices all the kiss marks and another first happens -

Daryl Dixon blushes red.

────

“I wanna come,” you say, resisting the urge to literally stomp your foot as Rick and Daryl and a few other men head out on a run.

It’s not like you actually want to go, but you can’t bear the thought of Daryl leaving without you. You know he can take care of himself, but the thought of him not returning - it literally makes you feel sick. You tug on the sleeves of your sweater while Daryl loads a bag of guns into the back of Rick’s truck, the other men exchanging glances that you know are them hoping Rick puts you in your place.

Ever since people caught on about you and Daryl, they’ve kept their mouths shut in regards to you. Which is good. You’re still ignored, like before - but at least you’ve got a little respect. You cross your arms as Rick and Daryl walk towards you.

“It’s dangerous out there,” Rick says, as if you’re an idiot who’s head has been buried in the sand for the past year. He sighs. “Look - we need you here. This is your role,” he looks like he wants to continue, but Daryl places a hand on his shoulder and gives him a look that Rick knows means let me handle this.

But you already know what Daryl is going to say to you, and you don’t want to fucking hear it. “I want to come, Daryl,” you say, trying not to whine. “I’m good with a gun, and since Derek can’t go,” you lower your voice, but Derek must’ve been slinking around. He pops up next to you, and Daryl tenses.

“You,” Daryl warns, mood gone sour just from Derek’s presence. “Fuck off.”

Derek laughs, but he’s obviously pissed. He can’t go on anymore runs, at least not for a while - he’s too scared, after a walker almost bit him the last time.

It’s only when you tense up, that Daryl realizes the other reason you don’t want to be left alone.

You don’t want to be alone with Derek. Yes, there’s other women at the camp and a few other men, but Derek is a scary, loose cannon. He’s the last person you want to be around right now. Daryl’s jaw locks, and he looks between the two of you, at the way you’re uncomfortable. Someone in Rick’s truck blares the horn, and he turns around, stressed out, not knowing what to do.

“Fuck face,” Daryl grumbles, running a hand down his face. He’s addressing Derek with a glare. He walks closer to him, chest to chest almost, backing Derek almost onto his ass. Derek can pretend to be tough all he wants - but he’s a bitch in comparison to a man like Daryl.

“Stay away from her. Don’t even look at her. If I come back and you so much as,” but Derek smirks. “If,” he emphasizes, until Daryl literally shoves him. Rick calls his name, and Daryl backs off.

You end up dropping whatever you’re saying, hating the position you’re putting Daryl in - like you’re a kid who has to have your way. Daryl is just trying to help the group, he has responsibilities - you don’t need to make his job harder than it is, so you wave him off. “I’ll be fine, Daryl. Just - come back safe.” You kiss his cheek and then he’s off.

You go to your tent to avoid Derek when the men going on the run are gone, but as you walk away you hear him speaking to you. “What’re you doing with that white trash? You might’ve been a whore, but you’re no trailer trash. You wouldn’t be with him if this was any other world.”

You stop in your tracks. “Don’t talk about Daryl like that,” you say softly, but firmly. For all Daryl does for everyone - you can’t believe Derek has the fucking nerve to talk shit. You want to flip him off, but he walks closer to you, and you freeze. You’re more scared of this man than a fucking walker, and your stomach flips with anxiety at his nearness.

“I worked in finance,” he says, like it matters. You actually have to stifle a laugh, confused at why his past matters - he’s so worthless that this is all he has to brag about? He thinks you care? Is he trying to relate to you, by putting Daryl down? He’s an idiot.

You smile sweetly, as if that’s anything to brag about. All the finance guys you knew in the city before all of this - they were horrible people. Of course that’s what Derek used to do.

“Trust me, Derek,” you say, hoping it stings. “I know.”

You walk away again, but just as you do, he grabs you by the arm. You try to pull your arm out of his grasp, but he won’t let you go. He tugs you closer to him, and you wish anyone cared about you enough to help you.

“Let go of me,” you spit, but Derek just shakes his head.

“You’re such a stupid bitch, you know that? Acting too good for any of us, treating all of us like shit. But you put out for fucking Dixon - let all of us hear you letting him fuck you in his tent and the woods. We saw you on your knees that day on the highway. I mean, it’s not a secret you’re a slut, but it’s another thing to see it. And now Rick is defending you? That why you were talking to him the other day for dinner? Offering yourself up for more rations or something? You’re sick,” Derek rants and raves, bruising your arm with his grip.

“Let me go,” you say, trying not to show how scared you are. “Or I’ll fucking scream.”

Derek actually laughs, shaking his head. You’re disturbed to know that he’s been watching you? Following you and Daryl? Because the both of you know - you only ever fooled around with Daryl when nobody could listen and see unless they were trying to. You wouldn’t do that, and neither would Daryl.

“If I’m such a stupid slut, that must make you pretty bad, huh? That I won’t even put out for you,” you hate that you even say those words, like you’d ever consider having sex with this man, but you want to hurt him. To get him to see that he's wrong about you - you want him to leave you alone.

“You fucking bitch,” Derek says, pushing you to the ground.

You let out a cry. You should’ve never told Daryl and Rick you’d be okay, you should’ve -

Suddenly Derek is off of you. You’re frozen for a second, before you hear screaming and someone calling out your name.

You’re in shock as someone helps you up. You know it’s Rick, because you notice his watch. “Damnit,” he curses, and you register the sound of Daryl’s voice. You look around for him, and when you find him, you see Derek on the ground, an arrow in his head.

He’s dead - for now. That fast. Until he turns into a walker.

Daryl walks to you, pulls you into his arms. “What happened?” He asks, and you’re worried he’s going to blame you, because you provoked him, and you stupidly left your weapons in your tent. You’re worried he’s going to think differently of you, that Rick will be mad that Derek is dead, and all these worries start swirling in your head until you can’t be strong anymore. You start crying so loud that you know you’ll be responsible for any walkers coming into camp tonight.

Rick starts to talk, but Daryl, for the first time ever, shuts him down harshly. “No, man. I ain’t sorry. He had it coming,” he says sharply, and Rick just swallows, holds his hands up like he agrees.

“Jus’ was gonna say to finish the job,” and you know he means, kill the fucker before he turns.

But you don't want Daryl to do it.

No, this is a job you can do.

Wordlessly, you pull yourself out of Daryl’s arms and walk towards Derek’s corpse. Everyone at the camp has gathered around now, too little too fucking late, but Rick tries to stop you from getting closer. You smack his hand away, and hold your palm out. It takes a minute, until Daryl finally orders Rick to give you what you want.

Rick hesitantly places a gun in your hand - and you shoot Derek in the head.

────

You’ve never killed someone who hasn’t turned yet. Derek was the first.

What scares you the most, is how little you care.

After what happened, you told Daryl everything that Derek said. You learned that night, from both Rick and Daryl, that the reason Derek was so horrible is because he wanted you - and how scary is that? What if he hurt you in another way once he had you on the ground? You’re lucky Rick forgot his gun and backpack on the run, that they had to turn around and come back to camp - the reason they got to you in time.

Rick assured you that you did the right thing. Which felt good, coming from the moral compass of the group. Everyone else was kind too, apologetic - you guess Derek scared more people into submission than you thought.

But Daryl was just pissed. More angry than you’d ever seen him. Throwing shit, breaking stuff - burning Derek the minute he dragged him a far enough distance from camp. Derek never even got a chance to turn.

Daryl threatened to leave the group with just you. It seemed like a good idea at first, until the reality that two people can’t survive on their own. No matter how resourceful, strong, and brave Daryl is.

But that meant a lot, that Daryl was trying - but the important thing is to survive.

The last few weeks, you’ve kept your head down. You clean, you help cook, you even take a few bites of whatever Daryl cooks because he pretty much forces you to - and because, secretly, you like how proud of you he looks when you try something new.

You just wish the world was different. But Daryl’s been amazing.

Rick’s been kind too. Everyone has, and maybe -

The sound of the zipper on your tent takes you out of your thoughts. You’re braiding your hair since you just washed it, but it’s proving to be a difficult task. You’re thankful for the distraction.

It’s Daryl.

“I already ate,” you tell him, worried that he’s bringing you some rodent that’s badly cooked. But you’re trying to be nice - he’s the only good thing in your world these days, so you soften your words. “Come inside and cuddle.”

Daryl squeezes inside the tent, and he leans on his side by your sleeping bag, just watching you. His head balanced on his hand, propped up on his elbow.

“Have somethin’ for you,” he says, not waiting for you to reply. In his hand is something wrapped in a tissue and you wonder what it is. He places it on your lap, and you look at him, excited but also a little upset.

“I told you to stop risking your life to get me things,” you scold, because everytime Daryl goes on a run, he finds things for you. Ribbons, hair clips, a pink toothbrush the other day. Lip gloss and lipstick (he knows the difference now), a pair of socks with little bows on them that are a size too big but still your favorite. He’s always saying how cute you are, how he thinks about you whenever he sees something pink.

It’s the best compliment ever.

You look to the other end of your sleeping bag, where a teddy bear Daryl found for you on a run a few weeks ago faces you both. It’s missing an eye, has the ribbon, the first gift he ever gave to you tied around its neck, and you love it so much that you sleep with it every night.

It’s definitely seen better days, and you don’t really know where he found it, but it’s so special to you - partly because Daryl gave it to you, and partly because it’s a little part of him that’s always with you. Part teddy bear, part security blanket - just like him.

It’s also a little scraggly. Sort of rough, dirty - but cuddly just the same. Kind of like Daryl. You move it a little closer.

Daryl groans in frustration and you almost roll your eyes at the dramatics. “Hush, lady, y’know I can take care of myself. ‘S nothing,” he nods to the thing on your lap, and you sigh and open the tissue.

It’s a cookie.

Your brows furrow, and you look at Daryl, all confused. “What,” you start, and he shrugs, sitting up. He rubs a hand down his face.

“Remembered what you said, about the cookies,” he’s sheepish, as if this isn’t the sweetest thing in the world. You gulp, trying not to cry at how touched you are, but you can’t help it. Tears brim at your waterline, and you wipe your eyes.

“Oh,” he scolds, letting out a huff. “Don’ cry. I just remembered what you said, is all. It’s probably not good anymore, but you’re my girl, and I want,” you smile even as tears run down your face.

“Your girl,” you hold that close to your heart, and Daryl nods, avoiding eye contact. You don’t care. You throw yourself into his arms.

His hug is warm, strong, and you feel the stress leave your body as he kisses your temple. He was listening, all those times you were talking.

Daryl Dixon, you think, the man that you are.

Your silence must be unexpected. He pulls away, watches your thumb brush over the most likely stale cookie he probably found on a run. You’re not really gonna eat it - but it’s the thought that counts.

“You talked about what ya miss, from before. But when I look back,” pretty blue eyes look at you. He cups your chin, presses his lips against yours.

You make a note to ask for chapstick for the both of you on the next run.

“Don’ cry, c’mon. You’re makin me soft,” he complains, even as he holds you closer. You want tell him that you can’t make him something he already is, but what he says next throws the sass right out of you. “When I look back, before I knew you,” he finishes shyly, “I just miss you, ya know?”

Daryl says that he’s not romantic, but he’s the most romantic man you've ever met. He’s a good person. He’s kind, and thoughtful, and even though he’s vague sometimes, too quiet for his own good - you know what he means.

You can’t believe there was a time you didn’t know - a time you didn’t love - this man. He’s everything to you.

And maybe, yeah - this world is hell. There’s death and decay and too much sadness to catch a break, but there’s one good thing in all of it. One thing so important to the both of you, that gives a little bit of meaning to this shitty, shitty world.

You found each other. You have each other.

You sniffle and nod, holding the cookie close, but Daryl even closer.

“Yeah,” you say, kissing his cheek softly. You feel him relax at your touch. “I’ve always missed you too, Daryl.”

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ditzydoe444 · 14 days ago

Note

Hey, it's me 🍮,

What do you think of Jason and Dick fucking the bunny reader at the same time? She's there, super stimulated being penetrated by two at once and with a cute smile on her face as she tries to formulate more than one thought. Something tells me that these two together would compete to see who can make her cum the most times.

have a good day and drink water

MDNI 18+

dick grayson x bunny! reader x jason todd smut

“takin it like such a good bunny aren’t ya?” jason grunted as he thrusted into your ass. right now you were bouncing on dick, whilst jason fucked you from behind. jason was more rough, his thrusts hard and deep whilst dick was more soothing and sensual, but equally as pleasurable. dick watched you bounce eagerly on his dick, the way your chest rose with a slight pink blush spreading down your neck, as the only thought he saw on your eyes was to come.

“m-mph! ‘s full,” you mumbled as jason gripped your waist tightly to hit deeper, the sound of skin slapping filling the room as the two moved.

your cum leaked from your puffy folds in your cunt and swollen hole in your ass when the two fucked you, painting dick’s pubes whilst a white ring formed on the base of jason’s cock.

“so fuckin’ tight bun, gonna make me fill you up again,” jason grunted as he watches your fat cheeks jiggle with his thrusts, he loved your assets, the way he could get a handful of everything whenever he wanted from a pretty girl like you was heaven.

“bet you like being filled up hm? and in both holes you lucky bun.

you nodded, a small cute smile formed on your face “ ‘m t-the luckiest girl,” you whined as you the two continued to fuck you. both of your sweet spots in both holes were being abused, as jason thrusted out, dick thrusted in giving you no time to recover.

dicks large hands squeezed your hips as you rode, his hips thrusted upwards to help you get off.

“so much,” you moaned as your eyes rolled back, jason’s thrusts getting harder and harder whilst dick’s hands travelled all over her body, grabbing her tits.

dick’s large hands cupped her tits, squishing them slightly as he pushed them up, making them even bigger. “i fucking love these,” he groaned as he watched them bounce as you rode him.

“such a man huh? making her do all the work whilst you admire her fat tits?” jason raised a brow as sweat dropped down his forehead.

his eyes darken at the insult, his hands gripping your tits slightly harder. “i can fuck her better than you can,” dick retorted as his hands slipped down to grab her hips, thrusting upwards.

“n-nngh!”

jason brushed the hair stuck to your forehead, “aren’t ya a lucky pretty little thing hm? getting all the dick you could possibly want from two men?”

dick watched as you gave a cheeky smile, your cheeks flushed and your eyes dilated and hazy, you were gone.

you’ve already came twice and judging by the sound of your moans you were going to come again.

“whose gonna make you come this time? bets it’s gonna be me hm?” jason whispered as his rubbed your clit.

dick scoffed, “nah, i’m gonna be the one to make her come and fill her up, you’re gonna wear yourself out.”

jason glared, one of his hands snaked around your neck choking you. “i’m just a man who gives to a woman, not watching her bounce and do the work.”

dick’s eyes twinkled, “yeah? wanna see how many times we can make her come and win?”

#anon 🍮#jason todd #ch: jason #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd smut #dc smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood smut #dc jason todd smut #dc jason todd #dc fanfic #dc characters #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson smut #dick grayson dc

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anakinstwinklebunny · 2 months ago

Text

PAIRING: professor!anakin x f!reader

Reminding everyone that today's the last day where you can send a request for BUNNYCEMBER

You sat across from him, your pink gel pen tapping nervously against the desk. The private study in his home--technically meant for grading and research--had become your little meeting spot for "extra help sessions". And you really did receive help, leaving all satisfied and smiling..

“Just be honest,” you pleaded, sliding the printed essay across the desk. You made sure the paper would smell faintly of your perfume, and keep the soft, bubbly handwriting in the margins to make Anakin’s lips twitch in amusement.

“Sweetheart,” he said, leaning back in his chair, the crisp button-up he wore stretching deliciously across his chest “do you really want my honest opinion?”

You nodded eagerly, gold hoops glinting under the warm lamp light.

He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair as he picked up the paper. His glasses, perched on the bridge of his nose, made him look even more like the professor fantasy that had you spiraling in the first place. Mother Nature made a walking temptation, so, how could you just ignore it?

“Well?” you leaned forward just enough for your crop top to ride up, exposing the tiniest hint of skin.

Anakin’s gaze flickered to you briefly, jaw tightening before he returned to the essay.

“It’s...unique,” he finally said, setting it down after what felt like an eternity.

“Unique?” you repeated, expression turning to a disappointed pout “That’s not a good thing, is it?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said carefully, though the smirk tugging at those swollen lips betrayed him.

You crossed your arms, huffing. “You’re lying. It’s awful, isn’t it? You think I’m dumb.”

“Dumb?” His tone shifted, sharp and disbelieving. In an instant, he was out of his chair, rounding the desk until he was standing right in front of you. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed, lower lip caught between your teeth. His hands gripped the arms of your chair, caging you in before he leaned down - face just inches away from yours.

“I don’t think you’re dumb,” voice low yet so soothing, having you already squeeze your thighs “I think you’re brilliant in your own way, and I think you know how to get what you want.”

“Besides,” he continued, eyes filling with something you knew all too well as they roamed your face, “you already have me wrapped around your little finger. If you wanted an A on this essay, all you had to do was ask.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

He grinned, thumb brushing against your cheek before trailing down to your jaw, tilting your head back.

“Really,” he murmured, lips ghosting over yours. “But I’d still make you work for it. You wouldn’t want it to be too easy, would you?”

You shook your head softly “No, Professor Skywalker.”

“Good girl,” tone dripping with approval. “Now, let me show you how you can...improve your thesis.”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez

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buck-star · 10 months ago

Text

Just one kiss | Lloyd Hansen

// Pairing //

-> DrugDealer!Lloyd Hansen x Innocent!Virgin!Female!Reader

// Summary //

-> Your best friend — Ransom Drysdale — asks you to buy special pills for him. You don’t know what he means and you didn’t know that the dealer isn’t like Ransom described the man.

// Wordcount //

-> 4.586 Words

// Warnings // Explicit Content

-> 18+, Minors DNI, dark content, Ransom is a dick, innocent!Reader (really innocent!), talking about drugs, manipulation, non/dub-con, Lloyd being Lloyd, blackmail, innocence kink, daddy kink, handjob, oral (male!receiving), cumming on the face, cum play, finger sucking, degrading, praises

// Authors Note //

-> I want to thank @bucks-babe for all those comments and for proofreading.

-> Written for the “Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza” Event hosted by @labella420 and @stargazingfangirl18.

Prompt: Blackmail + Cum play + “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it.”

// Masterlist | Lloyd Hansen Masterlist //

“Come one, please! He is so nice and I just ask you for that favor. Best friends do that for their best friends, princess,” Ransom says, pouting slightly when you still look unsure about his ask.

You play with your fingers, sliding them over the short pink skirt you’re wearing because your best friend asked you to do so. Aren’t you already a good best friend because you always wear what Ransom asks you to wear?

“Ransom, I—I don’t know. I’ve never bought something from him. And m—my parents always say to not get too close to him — to Lloyd Hansen,” you say, his name only a whisper afraid that someone could hear you.

“Princess, I wouldn’t ask when it wouldn’t really mean something to me,” he says, his hand finds its place on your bare thigh and you shiver slightly under his soft touch. “I will give you the money, please.”

“Why don’t you go there yourself?” You ask, looking at him suspiciously. He chuckles, his fingers dig into your soft skin and you hiss softly about his sudden roughness.

“Lloyd and I, uhm, we had some differences in the past and he told me to piss off,” Ransom confesses, scratching the back of his neck.

It wasn't a lie, Lloyd doesn’t really like Ransom but the actual reason he wants you to go there is because sweet, innocent girls like you get better offers than Ransom would get.

“Don’t you love me, princess?” Your best friend asks, his smile fades away and he tilts his head down, avoiding your gaze. He also removes his hand from your thigh, causing your heart to ache. You don’t like to offend your best friend, especially not to make him sad just because of something he asks you to buy.

“I do love you, Ran,” you mumble, moving closer to capture his cheeks with your hands. You lift his head so he has to look into your eyes and then you kiss his nose, smirking when he does. “I will buy it for you, what do you want me to buy?”

“Some special pills. Nothing big, just tell him that you want a small bag of special pills, then Lloyd knows what you ask for, princess,” Ransom says, his grin back on his lips. You nod, letting go of his cheeks and crawl into his lap, cuddling into him, while he wraps his arms around your small body and pulls you closer.

You’re such a good girl for him, he loves how innocent you are — his sweet girl would do everything he asks for when he just plays the right cards. He loves it, his dick loves your innocence not less. It’s growing and throbbing in his pants while you cuddle you cuddle yourself into his tall, muscular body.

“Ran! You forgot your keys in your pocket!” You complain, rolling your eyes playfully. Ransom laughs, pulling you even closer and leans down to your ear.

“That’s not my key, princess. That’s my cock,” he mumbles, causing your eyes to widen and shift slightly. No matter where you try to sit you have his cock point into your ass or back.

Every slight movement on his lap makes Ransom groan and his dick growing even more. “Why isn’t it moving to the side?”

Fuck! Your innocence makes him go crazy and he just wants to destroy your little pussy, wants to fill you with his cum and make you come and scream over his cock over and over again. Tears would stream down your cheeks but you would beg for more and he would gladly give it to you, fucking you until you’re nothing but a whimpering mess underneath him.

“Don’t you know what that is? My cock.” He asks, raising his eyebrow when you shake your head ashamed. Ransom smirks even wider, his fingers draw small circles on your back, grinning you over his hard cock. “I will explain it to you at some point but first you go to Lloyd and buy what I asked you to buy.”

Ransom brought you to Lloyd’s house, even when it’s more like a mansion. A cold shiver runs along your spine when Ransom lets you step out of the car, hurrying you to finally drive to a park slot on the side.

“What happened between you and Lloyd actually, why doesn't he want you to buy something?” You ask innocently while you don’t make a move to get out of the car.

Sweat is running his face down when he looks in all directions. Would Lloyd see him near his mansion he would probably torture him until he begs for forgiveness. “I— uhm. I accidentally shot him in his ass.”

You giggle, then you get out of the car and wave with a soft smile at Ransom before you make your way along the path to the big building. Your hands start to sweat and you press them against the skirt as an attempt to cover more of your bare legs.

Lloyd watches you already from the window, his tongue slides over his lips, while he smirks. So innocent. He groans quietly, turning around to make his way to a chair in the middle of the room. He fucking loves to see those girls all sweet standing there and asking him nicely and cute for some special pills — going to parties with them but you? You look so different, so innocent, so untouched.

His dick is growing when he’s deepening his thoughts about what he could do with you, letting you twirl for him, lifting your skirt. He wants to see you, all of you — you’re so different to all these other girls.

But his thoughts get interrupted when someone is knocking at the door, when he growls a low ‘yes’ you open the door and look at him. His hair is slicked back, mustache and white pants with a shirt — exactly how everyone describes him. He smirks at you, leaning back in his chair, his legs spread open and his hands resting on his thighs.

“Come in, little one,” he tells you. His eyes are roaming over your body and you want to make yourself even smaller. With a short movement you close the door behind you and walk further toward him.

“H—Hi,” you mumble, looking down, your shoes suddenly the most interesting thing you have ever seen. The creaking noise of the chair makes your eyes widen, hearing him walking closer to you, your body tenses and a quiet whimper leaves your lips.

“What can I do for such a sweet girl like you?” He sounds nice, not like your parents told you. His hand grasps your chin, tilting your head back so you have to look into his eyes, he is grinning down at you, while he leans closer and there are only inches between your faces.

“I— My best friend — Ransom. H—He wants me to buy some special pills for him,” you explain, body trembling under the intense gaze of the older man. Lloyd smirks, his hands finding their way to your hips and he pulls you flat against his muscular chest.

“Mhm, Ransom?” He asks, knowing exactly who he is. When you nod, his grin widens and he pulls you with him closer to the chair. You’re too focused not to just turn around and run out of the building so you don’t really realize that Lloyd leads you to the chair where he lets himself fall down and holds you still between his thick, muscular thighs. “Are you his girl, little one?”

“N—No, he is my best friend,” you mumble, looking at your hands. Even though Lloyds hands are warm and his grip is firm, you still feel uncomfortable there. The building is so big, there aren’t many people you have seen and the owner of that mansion is holding you just inches away from him by your hips.

“You’re his best friend, know your parents. Strict ones, do they know that their pretty girl is visiting me here? Do your parents know you’re here, little one?” He asks, and you shake your head slowly.

Your parents would never allow you to visit Lloyd Hansen, he is famous — famous for drugs and illegal things. “Please, don’t tell them. You won’t tell them, right?”

“Mhm— but you need to give me something for that then, can you do this?” His voice is soft and the smile on his face widens. He pulls you onto his thigh, moving your hips slowly forward and backward before he stops and lifts his one hand to grasp your chin once again. He tilts your head up, looking straight into your eyes and you feel like he can look into your soul.

“Do you want more money?” You ask, so innocently that his dick is hurting while it presses against the fabric of his white pants.

“No, can you give me something else?” He asks, fingers digging into your waist while he holds your chin still with his other hand to look into your eyes. His cock twitches when you whimper softly, thinking about something you could offer him.

“W—What do you want to have?” His grin widens, when it's even possible. He just waited for you to ask that unless you tell him what he wants to hear. But since you’re just as innocent as you look he is glad you asked him what he would like to have so he won’t tell your parents about your little visit in the Hansen mansion.

“Kiss me,” he mumbles, leaning back while he lets go of your chin and places that hand on your waist as well. Your eyes widen and you whimper, shaking your head.

“Please, I—I never kissed someone, not even sure how that works. C—Can I just give you more money?” You try but he just ignores your attempts to convince him to give him something else.

“Little one, I’m rich. I don’t need what you offer me. You have two opportunities. First; you give me what I want. Second; I take what I want,” he explains, grinding you on his thigh. A tingling feeling erupts between your legs and you try to press them together causing Lloyd to chuckle darkly. “I always get what I want, pretty girl. And look how needy you are, clenching your tights like a desperate slut.”

“I’m not a slut!” You raise your eyebrow until his grip tightens and you immediately blush. You don’t want to upset him, scared of him. Your body still trembles slightly but the pressure between your legs grows especially when he just holds you, instead of grinding you on his thigh to give you some relief.

“I know, you’re a pretty innocent girl.” He sits up, straight and your lips are suddenly so close that you can feel his warm breath on your skin. Lloyd groans when you move closer against him, your pussy rubbing over his hard cock and your eyes widen.

“I—Is that also your cock? R—Ransoms was hard too earlier,” you tell him, looking down where you just feel his hard bulge pressing against you. A low chuckle leaves his lips, causing you to look into his eyes again.

“That’s my cock, when you kiss me already you can see it. Do you want to see it?” You nod slightly, and he feels his cock twitch once again. Your innocence makes him go crazy, you’re on his lap, willing to kiss him so he won’t tell your parents that you are visiting him. And willing so you can see his throbbing cock.

Even when you would have said no, he already knew the kiss isn’t everything he wants from you. When such a sweet and innocent girl walks into his mansion and makes his cock painfully hard and throbbing he will definitely use that to fuck you or at least have you suck off his cock.

You lean slightly forward, you don’t know why but something changes inside of you and you feel comfortable around Lloyd and you really want to see his cock since Ransom wasn’t explaining it to you. So you press your lips softly against his, just a moment before you pull back and giggle softly.

“Your mustache tickles, Mr. Hansen,” you say, reaching out your hand to slide your fingers over his mustache. You're so perfect for him, so innocent but still so confident when you feel comfortable. He is sure he won’t let you go that easy; you’re his now — his little one, Lloyd's pretty girl.

“Was that a kiss, little one? Give Daddy a real kiss,” he asks, raising his eyebrow when you nod slowly. He laughs, capturing your cheeks with his hands and pulling you closer, his lips pressing on yours with such force that you gasp. You part your lips slightly, and Lloyd uses the moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan.

You press him by his chest away, his cheeks heating up, and you look down at your lap. “I’m sorry, I—I didn’t want to moan.”

“Ahh, pretty girl. Let me hear you moan again, yeah?” Before you can answer, he presses his lips against yours once again. His hands slide to your back and lower down until he grabs your ass, squeezing harshly and causing another moan to leave your lips.

When he lets you pull away, you breathe heavily, your hands resting on his muscular chest while you look into his eyes. They are a little darker than before, filled with an emotion you have seen in Ransom's eyes sometimes — mostly when his hand slid up your leg underneath your skirt until you moved away from your best friend with a questioning look.

Lloyd's hands are still capturing your cheeks. He smirks at you, his eyes roaming down your body to your chest, biting his lip before his gaze slides lower to your short skirt. “Do your parents know that you look like a little desperate slut with such short skirts?”

“N—No, Ransom asked me to wear it for him. Don’t you like it?” Lloyd chuckles, one hand making its way to your skirt, and he slips it underneath the fabric, stroking the soft skin of your thigh. He groans, his fingers moving closer to your panties, but you grasp his arm just before his fingertip is touching your pussy.

“It looks pretty, little one. Now get up so I can show you my cock. What do you think?” He asks softly before pushing you off his lap. You immediately stand up and wait in front of him while he unbuckles his belt and lets his white pants fall down his thick, muscular thighs.

In his boxers is a big bulge, and you guess that’s what he meant. What you didn’t think of was that he was going to push the fabric down as well. His weeping cock slaps against his stomach; the tip is red, and a vein is running along the underside of his huge length.

“You can touch it, pretty girl.” You shake your head, just looking at his length, before you look him in the eyes again. “Do you want me to tell your parents that you’re going out in such a slutty outfit that you were sitting on my lap and kissing me?”

“P—Please, don't tell them,” you say quietly, a small pout on your lips. Lloyd chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your lips, kissing the pout softly away. Then he places his pants between the two on the ground before he pushes you by your shoulders down until you’re on your knees, looking up at him with your innocent gaze.

“Take it in your hand. Wrap your little fingers around Daddy's huge cock. Can you do that?” He asks so softly that you nod and lift your arms, placing one on his thick thigh.

“But you’re not my daddy, Mr. Hansen,” you mumble, looking at him with your innocent and now slightly confused gaze.

“I’m your daddy now, little one. I take care of you, don’t I?” When you slightly nod he grins wide and points at his hard, leaking cock. You bring your other hand to his cock and wrap your fingers around his hard cock.

Lloyd groans, throwing his head back when your soft skin touches his cock. He then looks back down at you, waiting for you to move your hand, but you're just sitting there and staring at his cock in your hand. His dick twitches in your hand, more pre-cum leaking down his red tip when he thinks about everything he could do with you — taking your virginity and making you his — Lloyds Hansen’s pretty girl.

“Move your hand, little one.” You look up; your eyes widen when he gives you more instructions. You thought he would let you go after you kissed him, so why does he want you to move your hand around his cock?

“But you said only a kiss,” you mumble, your eyes watering — your emotions are overwhelming; you feel so embarrassed, but at the time, you don’t want Lloyd to tell your parents that you’re here. And his cock feels not bad in your hand either. He places his hand around yours, grip tightens while he moves your hand up and down his thick length.

“Good girl,” Lloyd praises, his hand tightening even more around yours and his cock, while he picks up the pace. He groans, his hips thrusting up when you move your hand at a slow pace up and down his cock. “Doin’ so well, little on. Now let's try something else: open your mouth and take my dick into your mouth.

“No, Mr. Hansen, please. I’ve never done that before; I—I don’t think I wanna do that,” you say, quietly and not looking up. Your grip around his cock loosens, and you place both of your hands on your thighs.

“You don’t want to?” He asks, his voice dangerously sweet, and you shiver lightly. When you shake your head, he grasps your hair, tugging harshly at it and making you look at him. “I don't care; you're gonna suck my cock, or I will tell your parents that you begged me to fuck you, want that? Want your parents to know that you’re nothing but a little whore?”

You don't really listen to him; your thoughts are running wild, and tears are building in your eyes, making their way slowly down your cheeks. Lloyd wipes his thumb over your cheeks to wipe the tears away; they just turn him on even more — he didn't know you could turn him on even more, but you do. His other hand is still tugging painfully at your hair.

“Then be a good girl and do what Daddy asks for. Now take it in your mouth, or I will make you take it,” he groans, waiting a moment for you to move, but you just sit there, quietly crying and staring at his cock. Lloyd sighs, pushing your head closer to his cock and wrapping his own hand around his base. He brings his cock to your lips, smearing his pre-cum over them before he pushes his tip between your lips.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he says, raising one of his eyebrows before he taps his hand softly on your cheek until you open your mouth wider and he is able to push his cock into your mouth.

Lloyd doesn’t give you much time before he shoves his cock down your throat. You immediately gag around his length, your fingers digging into his thick thighs while he holds you in place for a moment. Your eyes water, and you try to pull away, but the older man’s grin is too tight for you to move away.

“Fuck, pretty mouth feeling so good,” he growls, pulling out of you and giving you a moment to inhale deeply.

“Please, don’t; it’s so big,” you whimper, trying to push him away from you. But at your next attempt to say something, he shoves his huge length into your mouth and down your throat again. Your teeth scratch along his soft skin, causing him to buck his hips forward.

He pulls you off his cock, leaning forward until his face is next to yours. Lloyd is biting into your earlobe, causing you to yelp. “Open your mouth wider, like the good slut you are for me.”

“B—But your cock is so big, Daddy,” you whimper, tears falling down your cheeks. When he pulls you back and smirks at you, causing you to be slightly scared — he looks so soft and at the same time something dark is glistening in his eyes and expression.

“You will get used to it. Fuck— should keep you just for me; what do you think, little one?” He asks, chuckling when you try to shake your head. You open your mouth wider when he presses the tip of his cock against your lips. Lloyd shoves his cock into your mouth, smirking proudly when your teeth aren’t scratching against his huge dick. You’re once again gagging around his length; the tears are falling down your cheeks, and saliva is dripping down your mouth. “Daddy told you he gets what he wants. And when he wants to keep you, then he will! So be good and suck my dick and breathe through your nose.”

Your nails dig almost painfully into the skin of his thigh, grounding yourself. When you breathe through your nose like he told you, you don’t gag that much around his cock anymore. He thrusts every now and then his hips, resting his dick in your mouth before he pulls out to give you a moment to breathe deeply.

You look with such an innocent gaze at Lloyd that he feels like he has to come immediately. Your saliva drips down, landing on your thighs, while his whole cock is covered in it as well. Lloyd growls, fucking your mouth harshly, your tongue licking the underside of his cock, while you swallow his length down your throat — you’re the best and sweetest girl he could have imagined when you walked into his mansion earlier.

He looks down at you, meeting your innocent eyes. You look adorable with his cock down your throat. “Taking my cock like the good girl you are for me, huh?”

After a few more thrusts, he pushes out, and you look at him, confused. Maybe you did something wrong? “Did I do something wrong? Didn’t it feel good?”

Suddenly, you just want to make him feel good; you want him to praise you — calling you his good girl, and give him what he is asking for.

“You did so well for me, swallowing my cock like a good girl. But I wanna come all over your face — want to paint your face with my cum,” he tells you, smirking when you look even more confused. “Let Daddy take care of it."

You nod, looking at his length, which is covered in your saliva when he wraps his hand around it. He then moves his hand at a steady pace, his hand wiping over his tip. It looks hot when he does that, panting and fucking his hand, his cock twitching, and he almost hits your face when he thrusts forward.

His lips are parted, and the veins on his arm are poking out while he looks at you, groaning loudly. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out!”

You do as he says and stick out your tongue. He grins at you, jerking himself off over your tongue. With a loud growl and a harsh thrust into his hand, he comes all over your face. His cum shoots out of his red tip, landing on your tongue and all over your face, while he fucks himself through the orgasm.

“Looking so sexy with my cum all over your pretty face, pretty girl,” he says, letting go of his cock and reaching out to graze his fingers with his cum. He then brings them to your mouth and pushes them between your lips. “Lick them clean.”

You twirl your tongue around his fingers, cleaning his fingers and tasting his salty cum. You hum satisfied, addicted to his taste.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it,” he says, fingers still in your mouth, pushing your tongue down. He then removes them and grazes them in his cum once again, this time he licks then cleans himself, tongue curling around his digits. His other hand grasps your chin, his thumb pushing into your mouth and you immediately suck at it. “So good for Daddy, huh? I should give you a reward, don’t you think?”

Your eyes widen and you nod, not exactly knowing what he means, but it doesn’t sound bad. And even though he can be a bit rough sometimes, he is still really nice and sweet with you.

“Get up, so I can pick you up and we can continue in my bedroom,” he says softly, and you immediately obey. When you stand in front of him, he leans down, pressing his lips softly against yours before he picks you up. His hands rest underneath your ass, squeezing your cheeks while he walks out of the room.

“B—But Ransom is waiting for me outside in the car,” you mumble, pulling away from Lloyd to look into his beautiful blue eyes. You haven’t recognized the bit of green in them, but it looks beautiful, and you get lost in them for a moment.

Lloyd smirks. One of his hands lets go of you, but you hold yourself with your legs wrapped around his waist. He looks for his phone, which is placed on a small shelf. He takes it and unlocks it. Lloyd taps a few times on his phone before you hear the familiar sound when you call someone.

“Princess?” Ransom's voice comes through the loudspeaker. You giggle, placing your head on his shoulder while you wrap your arms around his neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

“Not exactly, but she is here. She is fine. Calm down. I will take care of my pretty girl, won’t I, little one?” Lloyd says, chuckling, before he squeezes your ass once again. You giggle, making Ransom gasp. “Brought me such a sweet and innocent girl; I guess I will keep her here. Make her my Mrs. Hansen.”

Before Ransom can say something, Lloyd hangs up and places his phone on the nightstand next to his bed. You haven’t noticed that you’re already in his room, but you smirk when he places you on his bed, kissing your lips before he moves down to your neck. He is sucking and biting softly on your sensitive skin.

“Now let’s get you out of your clothes and show Daddy your pretty body, all mine. Understand, you’re mine, pretty girl,” he says, looking at you. You pull him closer, pressing your lips against his, and let his tongue explore your mouth while his hands roam over your body, causing a tingling in your pussy. He grins, already thinking about the way he will claim you and make you his — his pretty girl.

He really likes you, falling slowly for you — your sweetness and innocence steal his heart from him, and he gladly gives it to you. Even though he isn’t used to take care of someone he just fucked but he gladly takes care of his pretty girl.

// Taglist //

@kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf

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poopsiesnoopy · 10 months ago

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SPY X FAMILY CHAPTER 96

Super late post but I couldn't just not draw them.

The confession. The manga panel.

UGH MY HEART I JUST CANT 🫠

Twilight's tearing up in the background because PLAN B is going swimmingly (not because he had to spend 5,000 dalcs on Anya's dress).

Yor's also scaling the walls so she could see her little babie's first dance ❤️

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blackwaves · 3 months ago

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reading into irl ichiyo higuchi and dwelling on the statement that ichiyo was bound by the structure of acceptable writing for female writers at the time — having to recreate a performance of feminity which contradicted and moved around the actual way women spoke, & which notably did not come naturally to her — but managed to make it her own + express assertiveness within it nonetheless.

anyway this is all just to say that i'm so fond of the bsd higuchi-centric chapter which says she's not naturally suited the port mafia, but that she stays and tries anyway. the way she gains respect via throwing herself into a fight she expects to lose from the motivation of her love/loyalty for akutagawa. thinking primarily of ch.77 where tachihara's suitability to the mafia is defined in his recklessness, passion, and bravery— there is something to me there about how she makes those traits her own.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #ichiyo higuchi #bsd higuchi #referencing “writing in female drag: gendered literature and a woman's voice” by rika saito btw if anyone is curious #sorry for loving higuchi! as if it's my fault!!#had to reread ch.14 for this and truly one of the chapters of all time #btw the female drag article is really good for like. specific sentiment of making an effort to reach across and convey the subtleties #of the grammar of a language with as much nuance as possible #like!! always interesting to see and equally interesting to see it commented on how intentional ichiyo was when it came to those #nuances of gendered writing

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kyouka-supremacy · 5 months ago

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I just don't think what's said about Anne's room in this chapter is very consistent with what has been previously established? Lucy and Kyouka seem to talk like Anne's Room can only make people exit (or, in case the ability is released, reappear) from the same place the ability was activated to begin with, but it's shown in other occasions that that isn't necessarily the case?

In chapter 43, Lucy activates her ability from under the water - that's how she got wet -, but when she releases the ability, both her an Atsushi are back on the jetty.

And again, in chapter 77: we aren't told where Lucy released her ability, but it's evident it couldn't be the same place where she activated it (free falling), since both her and Atsushi are still alive, and there would have been no way of saving them from there.

(Side note, this chapter Lucy and Kyouka are considering exiting from the door, but doesn't that mean they'd lose their memories of what happened inside it? Or was that a one time thing?)

#lucy maud montgomery #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd ch 118 #bsd ch 43 #bsd ch 77 #bsd ch 15 #mine #In my defense I usually pay no mind to abilities plot holes unless they're used to justify female characters lack of screentime

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cruxsims · 6 months ago

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Emilie hair

commissioned by @knifetengale! if you're interested in commissioning a hair from me you can get more info over here!

i missed working on hairs so much </3

i've also made her hat, glasses and earrings if you want to get those as well

INFO:

BGC

all LODs

hat chops

for fem frame, not locked for masc frame

24 EA Colors + 40 Puppy Crow colors + in-game hair color

[TOU]

DOWNLOAD: [PATREON] [SIMBLR.CC]

looking for more genshin cc? check out this list!

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jcinktinder · 4 months ago

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Members Of the Moonlight Alliance

18+ | mortal | faceclaims open

The Moonlight Alliance started back in the fourteenth century in Lambeth London. At first, it was nothing more than a simple band of hunters that quickly grew into what it is today - a worldwide organization. It homes many bases of operation across the globe with its home base being where the Alliance originally started in London. These days the base in Pennsylvania is starting to be the main base as the leader of the Alliance currently lives there with his family

The family who originally started the Alliance is the Murdock family. At every branch and overall position of power, a Murdock is the one leading. They all hold to the same appearance with the dark, almost black hair and blue eyes. The family head and overall leader of the Alliance is Mason Murdock. His firstborn son, Monty Murdock is the next heir to the family name.

The Alliance doesn’t only pay their hunters but supplies them with what they need in terms of weaponry, information, safe houses, and medical attention. The Alliance offers a multitude of diverse job opportunities. From a simple librarian to doctors, weaponry smiths, magical researchers, and many more. Even among hunters, there are different types who specialize in killing certain magical creatures such as vampires or werewolves. The hunters work by a ranking system that everyone within the Alliance has to work towards advancing. From highest to lowest: Master Hunter, Hunter, Beta, Junior, Apprentice. Each ranking has a crest they must carry around to identify themselves.

All members are open! Especially other hunters!

SITE LINK | DISCORD

#jcink #jcink premium #open rp #character request #mature rp #fantasy rp #fandom rp #3 years #ch: 18-24 #ch: 24-40 #ch: over 40 #ch: male #ch: female

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virmire · 4 months ago

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"I'm okay, really. It's been rough but we'll get it done"

#mass effect #me2 #meedit #gamingedit #femshep #female shepard #*edits #*gifs #ch: nora shepard #i feel like it's been a while since i made a gif

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hanasnx · 4 months ago

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MINORS DNI 18+

even when ANAKIN SKYWALKER’s dick is flaccid n soft it’s still swinging between his legs. should be classified as a weapon. a battering ram. when it’s hard it’s heavy. you feel that heft in your palm when you’re jacking it off, makes your wrist sore. he learned to be proud of it through you, through your reactions, through your sheer worshipfulness of it. when he unbuckles his belt you get that excited feeling in your chest and your cunt, acting like you’re about to get a big fat reward—and in a way you are. that big fat reward batters your insides, would bruise them if it could, and he likes how you lose yourself on it. you’re getting fucked by a rod and you’re losing yourself. you should be sobbing, you should be begging for a break, you should be telling him you’re too tight- too tight but no, you’re fucking back on it like you want it. you’re bouncing on it like you were made for it. you’re gripping on his clothes like your life depends on it while you’re letting him fuck you into the mattress with that lethal weapon. you’re swallowing every last drop of his load; you’re letting cum spray in your eyes and rubbing it in; you’re sniffing your nose up and down that pussy juice, spit, n precum mixture on his shaft and he’s watching you do it. fuck self respect, you’d do anything for him. you’re afraid of what you’ll do for him. all because of that insane dick game.

#1k #ch: anakin #anakin skywalker thought #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #reader insert

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tinysunshine · 8 days ago

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━━━ ✧˖° 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓: 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍

- a = aftercare (how he takes care of you after sex)

daryl doesn’t do the kind of ‘aftercare’ you read about in fics. bringing you a snack, talking you down from a hazy headspace, telling you everything will be alright - those things don’t happen with him. they don’t need to.

every time you have sex with daryl, it feels good. amazing. he fucks you, not just because he wants to get off, but because he wants to make you feel good too. he won’t admit it, but he likes the closeness of it. the intimacy that is sex. when you’re both done, sweaty and tired and coming down from an orgasm high, he’ll help clean you up - and if you ask, he’ll bring you some water. cuddle you extra tight, tell you how much he loves you.

of course, if kink is involved, daryl would do more to make sure you’re okay after a scene, but regular intercourse doesn’t warrant anything special after. because every moment with daryl is special. and when you’re around him, you know that he’ll take care of you and make sure you’re okay at all times.

- b = body part (his favorite body part of yours)

daryl likes boobs and ass. just as much as any other guy. but for different reasons.

he would never look at a woman and think ‘wow, she’s hot because of her huge tits’ or anything like that. while he might notice certain physical things about a woman’s body, he really could care less. daryl dixon does not let lust or his cock run his life - and in the world he lives in, that’s a good thing. he has more important things to focus on.

if you’re dating daryl, he likes your boobs because they’re yours. he likes your ass because it’s yours. he doesn’t have a type. it doesn’t matter if you’re skinny, tall, petite, thick - if you managed to get close to daryl, believe that he adores every inch of your body and everything about you.

- c = cum (anything to do with cum)

daryl will kiss you after you suck his dick and swallow his cum. he doesn’t care if your mouth still tastes salty, doesn’t mind the taste of himself. he also doesn’t necessarily think it’s hot, just - it is what it is. sex is natural. sex is dirty. that’s what daryl believes, anyway.

he loves the taste of your cum. is obsessed with the concept of squirt. he loves spending majority of foreplay, or even just for fun, going down on you and fingering you. i imagine him with the bottom part of his face slick, your inner thighs stinging from his facial hair rubbing against them, his lips looking glossy from your juices after he gave you a few orgasms. his smile from between your legs is probably shy and loopy as he licks the taste of you from his fingers.

- d = dirty secret (a dirty little secret of his)

daryl would never verbally admit this - but he loves when you call him daddy.

and not in that, who’s your daddy? kind of way, that’s a little degrading and a whole lot of powerful. daryl just loves what it stands for - that he’s taking care of you. that you trust him.

and, okay, maybe feeling like he has that power over you is a little hot. but it’s not the main reason he likes it.

when you curl up next to him and call him that name, snuggle into his side, or just tease him to ask for something using that name and a sweet voice - god, it gives him butterflies, makes him eager to do whatever he can do to make you happy. because he loves taking care of you. loves spoiling you in whatever way he can.

the name is romantic to him, but at the end of the day - also a little kinky. the fact that you trust him the way you do means everything to him.

- e = experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he’s doing?)

daryl doesn’t have a lot of experience - but that’s by choice.

people can think what they want about daryl, but women want him. because not only is he physically hot, he’s also untrained - in that dirty, masculine way every woman secretly wants a piece of. in his life, daryl has had many admirers, but just a few partners.

in fact, most of the women he’s been with sexually have probably been older than him. kind, soft, they took good care of him while he learned the ropes. maybe that’s why he’s so good with his tongue and fingers and cock - older women with more experience, who could see the appeal that the women his age maybe couldn’t back then, have taught him well.

so, yes - daryl knows what he’s doing, and he does it well.

- f = favorite position (this one goes without saying)

in the beginning, when he’s getting comfortable and more vulnerable with you, daryl is a little scared of missionary. it’s a lot of pressure, to have your pretty face looking up at him - you can see how he’s feeling, and he can see the way you’re feeling. wonders if you’re enjoying yourself, if he’s making any weird faces. he’s also a little scared to admit just how much he enjoys himself with you, no matter how silly that sounds.

daryl just wants to impress you. he just wants you to feel good.

as you get more serious in your relationship, missionary becomes his favorite because of the intimacy that looking into each other’s eyes brings. he also loves doggy, because duh, and he loves showing off his strength by holding you up against a wall and fucking you like that, just bouncing you up and down on his cock like you weigh nothing. because to a man as strong as him - you are light. no matter what your body type.

and when you ride him? god, it’s so overwhelmingly good he could just about cry. but really, any position, as long as he gets to put his dick inside of you, is perfect for him.

- g = giving (is he more of a giver, or a receiver?)

giver. daryl isn’t a sexual person unless he’s really into someone - and if he’s really into you, then his sexuality is pretty much…you. he could please you and focus on just your pleasure for hours, even if it’s at the expense of his own. whatever you want to do in the bedroom, he’ll try. even if he gives you a funny look, or teases you about it, he’ll give it a chance.

if it’s something super kinky, he might be hesitant - but ultimately daryl just wants to make you happy. seeing you turned on turns him on. definitely a giver.

‘you’re a little weird, ya know?’ he murmurs, face flushed when you ask him to dominate you a certain way, or do something dirty. but he’s a good sport - he’ll do it, whatever it is, especially when he sees how much it turns you on.

- h = hair (how well groomed is he? his thoughts on body hair, his partner’s and his own)

this might be surprising to some, but daryl is well groomed. his hair is pretty light but he keeps it trimmed, because even though he has the reputation of someone who doesn’t give a fuck, he’s actually hygienic. uses bar soap, freshens up everyday. he’s just really active and outside all the time, which is how he gets dirty so fast. and he doesn’t care what he looks like, not when the world is the way it is. but he’s not unhygienic. he smells manly, woodsy, musky in the best way possible.

as for your hair, he really doesn’t care. daryl has literally eaten raw squirrel meat just to survive. he’s rough and tough and a survivor - you think he cares about fucking body hair? he’ll go down on you no matter what your grooming situation, will cuddle next to you and touch your body no matter if you shaved yesterday or haven’t touched a razor in months.

although, if you do happen to be smooth, soft and hairless just because that’s something you prefer, he definitely notices. can’t believe someone as sweet and pretty as you even lets his rough fingertips touch your body, but overall, body hair is not a factor in his attraction towards you. not at all.

- i = intimacy (how is they during the moment? the romantic aspects)

when daryl loves you, he’s romantic all the time. without even knowing it. for some reason, he’s under the impression that he’s not romantic. maybe he thinks that romance is red roses and money and expensive dinners, things that don’t matter in the world you’re both living in. he also has a bit of a self esteem issue - he doesn’t really see himself for who he is, you know? he’s amazing, and everyone knows that. he’s the one who has a hard time believing it.

he’s so romantic. in the way he takes care of you. listens to you. he’s a sweetheart, wrapped in a tough package. when you’re having sex, he’s the same daryl he always is. intense, thoughtful, voice a little mumbled even as he tells you how tight you are, how good you are for him, how much he cares about you.

he loves you, you know that with all your heart - but acts of service, sometimes gift giving is the way he shows it. the words i love you are rarely explicitly verbalized. but he fucks you so good that it’s obvious.

giving you orgasms is an act of service and a gift at the same time, right?

- j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

daryl doesn’t just jerk off for the fuck of it. never gets horny and immediately think, ‘lemme touch myself.’ if you’re dating him, he’ll just put the moves on you, because he’d rather watch you not waste a drop of his cum then get it all over his hand. if he’s single, he definitely only gets himself off when he has to. when its been so long it’s starting to become a need, and his body is desperate for release.

god, he looks so hot laying on his back, perfect arms flexing as he jerks himself off. it’s easy to imagine. it’s also easy to imagine watching him cum all over his stomach and licking it off -

okay, maybe he lets you watch him get himself off one time. tells you to take your clothes off in front of him while he strokes himself, embarrassed, and so turned on at the way you clean up his mess with your cute, pink tongue.

- k = kink (one or more of his kinks)

daryl isn’t the kinky sex god everyone in the fandom makes him out to be. he has his moments, sure, but the only time he’d ever do something truly kinky is if you asked.

if you wanted him to spank you, or lightly choke you, or roleplay a little - he’d awkwardly do it in his own cute, grumpy way.

the way he naturally is, and the dynamic he has with you - some might think there’s elements of kink to it. he’s such a man, but he’s also sort of versatile. would let you dominate him, although not aggressively, even while he’s on top of you. he’d think it’s hot if his woman told him how to fuck her, demanded things - he definitely thinks a little bit of a brat is sexy.

there’s something very primal about sex with daryl, but it comes naturally to him. he’s a little bossy with you, even if you have him whipped. when you fuck, he takes what he wants, he’s a man about it, and that’s endlessly sexy to you.

- l = location (favorite places to fuck and mess around)

bed.

it seems boring, but having a bed and a roof is a luxury these days. there was a long time when daryl didn’t have anything to sleep on but a thin sleeping bag, and even worse, a hard fucking prison bed. fuck the tent, fuck the outdoors - you’re precious to daryl, and he wants to fuck you somewhere that’s worthy of you.

he’ll also fuck you over a couch, or in the shower. and, okay - he’ll fuck you outside or behind a tree or wherever you want if you’re desperate for it, but he definitely prefers to have you on his soft mattress, bedroom door closed, so he can give you the princess treatment you deserve and fuck you like -

the girlfriend he adores.

- m = motivation (what turns him on, gets him going)

you.

all day and all night long. anything and everything about you. he wants to please you. make you happy. take care of you. he can’t rest if you’re unhappy, can’t cum unless you’re completely satisfied. doesn’t want to even have a good time unless you’re having one too.

anything and everything you do turns him on. just by being yourself, you get that man going like nothing and nobody else. it’s kind of your superpower, you think sometimes - the effect you have on daryl dixon.

- n = no (something he wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he doesn’t want to hurt you.

even if you ask for it, tell daryl you’ll be fine and him getting rough with you turns you on - he’ll be hesitant.

i don’t think daryl would ever tell you no. he’s pretty inexperienced, but when it comes to anything kinky, you have to tell him what you want, and he might be freaked out. if you asked him to spank you, he might look at you like you’ve grown a second head. ‘you know i’m a lot stronger than you, don’t you?’ he’ll say, as if you’re literally insane, and you’ll nod and roll your eyes, telling him in your best brat voice, ‘that’s the point.’

daryl will do whatever you want, and he’ll enjoy it because making you happy turns him on - but i think anything that could hurt you scares him a little.

- o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

giving.

of course, he loves receiving head because who doesn’t? but come on. you know that man is obsessed with eating pussy. loves to get dirty and sticky and wet between your thighs, or have you sit on his face so he can feel you all over him. bonus points if you’re thick: because the weight of you on his face, your smell and your taste and just you on top of him could literally make him cum untouched if he tried hard enough.

daryl loves to give - and he’s so fucking good at it. partially from skill, but mostly because he’s so enthusiastic. will jump at any opportunity to go down on you.

- p = pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

daryl isn’t inherently rough.

but he is. he’s just so big, and kind of unaware of his strength, and when he’s enthusiastic and excited and you beg him to flip you onto your stomach and fuck you silly - he’s going to do it. he’s so strong, and anytime he puts his hands on you while he’s fucking you, it always feels a little rough. the good news is: you love it. because even when he’s rough, doesn’t realize how hard he’s gripping your hips or folding your legs into your chest so he can fuck you at a better angle, he’s still so sensual. can go so slow. make you feel so loved.

sex with daryl makes you feel like a prized possession, and when he’s inside of you, you want it to last forever.

- q = quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

daryl can get you off quickly, but it takes him a little longer to cum. his pleasure centers around your pleasure, and if you feel good - he’s satisfied, even if he doesn’t cum himself.

a quickie for daryl means quickly getting you off fast. with his fingers or mouth and tongue, or his cock, even if he tucks it back into his pants, slightly hard, and pulls his shirt over the bulge while you’re still shaking from your orgasm. as long as you’re satisfied, so is he.

he wants to savor the chase of his orgasm for longer than just a quickie while the rest of your group is momentarily occupied or you finally have some free time together during the day. if you want sex, he’ll happily oblige, but long nights with daryl are more his style.

- r = risk (is he game to experiment? does he take risks? etc.)

daryl doesn’t take risks when it comes to sex. meaning: it’s rare that he’ll fuck you somewhere where others could hear or walk by and catch you both. you’ve had a few outside romps for sure, but if there’s a bed or a couch or a roof over your head, daryl will always pick that. it’s not that he doesn’t want to have fun, he just wants to make sure you’re getting the best experience. what kind of boyfriend would he be if he let you get grass stains on the knees of your pants if he bent you over outside? he’d never put you in a degrading position like that.

unless, of course, you ask for something like that. even if he’s huffing and puffing, mumbling ‘yer crazy, girl’ under his breath about a sexual request you have - he’ll always try to please you. and honestly, he can’t deny you when you’re all over him, begging for a little risk, especially when life is more settled. how can he tell you no when you’re pulling at his sleeve and rubbing your tits against his arm, asking him to take you behind a tree even with the rest of your group close by?

with daryl, you pretty much always get what you want.

- s = stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

once daryl cums, he’s good. doesn’t see the need to go an extra round and exert himself - because he’s definitely fucking tired after giving you a pounding. when he fucks you, he uses all his strength, makes you cum so many times before he lets himself cum that you’re too exhausted to go another round even if he wanted to. he can last a long time, with foreplay and blowjobs and making you cum around his cock - which is why he’s usually beat for a few hours after he finally lets himself spill. it really doesn’t take him long to be ready again once he cums, but one round with daryl is deeply satisfying.

- t = toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?)

daryl doesn’t use toys on himself. wouldn’t even think to do that.

at first, he honestly doesn’t like the thought of you using toys. not because he’s insecure - he literally just doesn’t understand why you need a toy if you have him. or your own fingers.

but one day, he catches you using your vibrator under the covers and he sees how fucking wet it makes you, how easy it is for that little toy to take you over the edge, and then he understands. doesn’t feel like it takes away from you, or him, or what you two do together - no, he just gets a little curious, is all.

daryl enjoys, very rarely, using a vibrator while you fuck. loves to see you come apart while you ride his cock and he holds it to your clit, the way you shudder and shake on top of him, have orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

and sometimes, he asks you to hold it on his balls. or the base of his dick. lightly - just for a second. his face turns red and his dick leaks precum. when you bend down to lick it well -

he understands the appeal of toys now, okay?

- u = unfair (how much he likes to tease)

as hot as it would be, daryl doesn’t really sexually tease. he does do it verbally though, when you’re crawling on his lap after he already spent the better part of an hour between your legs, fingers almost pruning from how long they’d been inside of you as he licked at your pussy. “you ready to go again jus’ like that?’ he’ll tease, all while heat creeps into your cheeks at how easy you are for him. but even when he teases you, you never feel ashamed for sharing any need you have with daryl. he doesn’t judge.

well, he does - but he never judges you.

- v = volume (how loud he is, what sounds he makes, etc.)

he’s not loud. partially because he’s just a quiet person, but also because he’s used to constantly being around people and sharing a living space. his voice is soft even when he talks dirty, little grunts and moans leaving his mouth so quietly that sometimes the only way you know he’s having a good time is the feel of his dick rock hard inside of you.

it makes it all the more special when he does get a little louder. after a few drinks, when he’s more outwardly touchy and talkative, or when you suck him off so good he just can’t help the noises coming out of his mouth. it’s a glorious feeling, when you can actually get daryl dixon to moan in your ear, or press his forehead to yours as he lets out a breath, the walls of your pussy clenching around him so tight he doesn’t even know how to move.

‘fuck,’ he’ll whisper, the most delicious little whine leaving his lips. you savor those sounds, commit them to memory, keep them in the back of your mind in case you ever need to get yourself off when daryl’s not around.

- w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

daryl never knew how much he needed a woman in his life. someone feminine, soft, to offset his masculine energy and understand the vulnerability beneath his surface.

but when he met you, someone sweet and cute and pretty and warm - everything he never thought he wanted nor needed, your presence kind of became an addiction to him.

daryl feels his dick start to chub in his pants whenever you wear a skirt, or a dress. whenever he feels your soft thigh against his leg in bed at night, or when you fit your body, so much smaller than his, on his lap or tucked under his arm. when you freak out if you see a bug because you’re scared of spiders, but not walkers, tie his hair back with little ribbons while he’s napping - he’s so incredibly fond that it makes him sick. it turns him on, the woman you are, and it’s like his dick is half hard the entire day when you wear anything pink or floral print.

you make him crazy in the best way.

- x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

hard body. toned, every inch of him. slightly tan, skin the most beautiful bronzed color in the summer, blemish free. his cock is big, but not overly so - perfect size, perfect color. the head of his dick is sort of pink, soft. he’s too hot for his own good, too beautiful, and he doesn’t even know it. actually blushes, when you lick your lips as he gets undressed, but daryl’s naivety about his own good looks is kind of part of his charm.

- y = yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

daryl is ready to fuck and get sucked at all times. but it’s not his main goal - he’s got a lot of shit to do, a lot of people depending on him, and he can go a long time without cumming. not that he wants to - especially not when he’s with you.

whenever you want to fuck, daryl is game. if you want his cock, you’re going to get it. don’t get it wrong - he is initiating. he can tell when you want to be fucked, because you go all quiet with your eyes glassy, or the opposite, you’re loud and a little bratty, begging him to just give you some type of release that you can’t get on your own. he knows you well, and he’s got you. ‘okay, pretty girl,’ he’ll say, leading you by the hand to a private area. ‘lemme make you feel better.’

daryl has a high sex drive, but until he met you, getting off was just never a big deal to him.

- z = zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)

very fast. such a cutie. he puts his all into it when he’s fucking you - and he’s not trying to be intense, that’s just how he naturally is regarding everything about you. he’s always giving his all when it comes to you, in any situation. but there’s also the fact that - he doesn’t know how else to be?

doesn’t understand men who’d let their woman do all the work during intercourse - it makes no sense to him, and the thought actually makes him uncomfortable. because of this, he’s definitely exhausted after he cums. if he fucks you at night, he’s passing the fuck out afterwards. if it’s a quickie during the day, he’s tucking his dick back in his pants after you’re done, grumbling something about ‘never getting a chance to nap anymore’ or some shit while you stifle a giggle.

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