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multiversediaries · 3 days ago

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GIFTED

↳ DARYL DIXON X READER

Summary: You receive a gift from another man, and Daryl does not approve.

Warnings: domestic, sweet daryl! small jealousy, & cursing

Part count: 1/1

A/N: hope you all enjoy! english isn’t my first language, so please do let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes!

"What do you think?" You said, now walking back into your shared bedroom, wearing the new dress you had just been gifted. You saw Daryl lift his face, his attention no longer on his bow, staring at you with nothing but love and admiration.

You have been married to Daryl for a while now. You two had met while at the prison and ended up falling in love with one another. It was love at first sight, really, it was. Even if it took way too long for you both to even talk to one another, your love and connection was undeniable. Daryl was very conflicted, as there is an age gap between the two of you, but ultimately, he gave into what he felt for you; it being way to strong to ignore.

Daryl loved you. Hell, the word love fell extremely short. You were the love of his life, you simply were everything to the archer, and he wasn't ashamed to show it. Everybody at Alexandria knew how smitten he was with you, and how special your love was. Daryl scoffed once his eyes landed on you. He felt the air thinning as he looked as his beautiful wife. You were the most gorgeous living thing left in this world.

"Damn stunnin'." Daryl replied, his body fully turning to face you, his undivided attention now all yours. You gigged, offering him a few twirls, showing off the pretty dress. Daryl chuckled, opening his legs a bit, making space for you between them.

"C'mere." He chuckled, his hands reaching to finally meet your skin. You grinned at him, walking into his arms, now standing in between his legs, looking down at him. You heard him let out a breathy grunt, his hands beginning to follow the trace of your body in the dress. It looked amazing on you. It was like you were giving the dress a favor by wearing it, not the way around.

"Yer the prettiest." He simply said, looking up to meet your eyes. Your cheeks burned, flattered. Daryl had his way with words and actions, he truly knew how to make you feel loved and wanted. All of these years together, and you had never felt anything less than. You leaned down to meet his lips in a sweet, quick peck. The type of kisses that would make Daryl's heart swell. He grinned after the kiss, his eyes going back to admiring you in the dress.

"It's nice.. the dress." He mumbled, his roaming hands still continuing to caress this body of yours he knows best. You smiled even wider, looking down at the dress on you, agreeing.

"Right? Gabriel has good taste!" You agreed, your own hands adjusting your new dress. Daryl's mouth went dry.

"Gabriel?"

"Yeah! He got it for me." You continued, not having noticed Daryl's attitude changing. His hands stopped their roaming, feeling his blood running cold. His eyes searched for yours, finding the situation unbelievable.

"He got it for ya?" He repeated, his head leaning forward and his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. You nodded, also confused.

"Yeah? He, uh... told me he found it while on a run and it reminded him of me.." You started, Daryl interrupting you with a laugh, in disbelief.

"You kiddin' me, right?" His tone in mockery. This had to be a joke. He watched as you shook your head, and his hands gently dropped from your body, now laying in his lap, in astonishment.

"No, baby, he brought it back for me, really." You affirmed, your own hands stopping the adjustment of the dress, now noticing his demeanor. You watched as his ear grew red.

"Why the fuck is he thinkin' of my wife?" Daryl asked, raising his voice a bit. You knew he wasn't upset at you, he'd never raise his voice at you. "It reminded him of you? 'The fuck out of here." He mumbled, now turning his body back to the table, intending to get back to fixing his bow, to lower his anger somehow. Your eyes widened, playing with your own fingers in nervousness.

"I don't think he had any other intentions.." You started.

"Baby, c'mon... Of course he has other intentions." He interrupted you, turning his body back to face you. His hand ran to massage his forehead. “Who does that?” His voice softened when speaking to you. Your heart almost melted.

"I don't think so, Daryl. I think he just saw it somewhere and just... wanted to give it away, I guess."

"Then why to my wife? What's the motive here?" He questioned, letting out a big, annoyed sigh. You watched him stand up from his chair. Your hands reached out, laying on his toned stomach, to stop him, as you saw him intention to walk away.

"Where are you going?" You asked, sweetly. He almost cursed at how genuinely lovely and innocent you were. He wanted to kiss you, but his jealousy would not let him.

"To ask him. Why the hell he'd get a dress this sexy to my damn wife." He clarified, his hands just hovering over your curves, the ones which the dress accentuated.

"It's not a sexy dress." You mumbled, and Daryl chuckled, completely in disagreement.

"Y/N, look at yourself, woman." He almost begged, now beginning to sweat in both anger and jealousy. "I'd take you right here, right now in this stupid, fuckin' dress. You kiddin'?" He uttered and you wanted to laugh. You adored how honest Daryl would always get when he's all jealous and protective like this.

"Baby..." You started, a small giggle escaping your mouth. You heard him sigh at your words. "You don't have to talk to him, it was a sweet gesture."

"Oh, we ain't talkin', don't worry."

"Daryl."

He let out another big exhale, his hand running through his head. One of your hands went to softly caress his features, feeling Daryl relax under your touch. He had even closed his eyes, just wanting to feel your touch. You wrapped both your arms around his waist, your chin now resting in his chest as you looked up at him. He bit his lip, still uneasy about Gabriel, before looking down again.

"I genuinely don't think he had some secret agenda getting me this dress. I truly do believe he just found it, and it was all new, not used, and wanted to give it to someone." You started, your kind voice serving as a sweet melody to your big archer. "And who in this town loves dresses more than I do?" You continued, giggling a bit. This got out a small chuckle from him, but you could still feel his tensed muscles.

"It's just a dumb dress, baby." You said, leaving a gentle kiss in his chin. This was unfair. How could he ever do differently from what you want when you kiss him this way? When you talk, and touch him this way? You knew how to work him.

"So, let this go, and don't speak to him." You almost begged and he gave in, a loud groan leaving his throat as he nodded. His arms finally wrapped around you, hugging your frame against his. You smiled widely, now hugging your sweet husband. You felt his hands trail down to your lower waist, before his hands now found their place in your ass, his favorite place. You chuckled against the skin of his neck at his actions, Daryl gently slapping your ass in the softest way possible.

"I'll get you a better dress." He simply said, a small pout on his lips. You giggled, now breaking the lovely hug, arms still wrapped around him. ""s not even that pretty." He scoffed, trying to lie to you, and to himself. He loved the damn dress. He loved the way it looked on you. He was sure no one could ever wear it better. You laughed, throwing your head back. He smiled big, taking this new found access to place wet kisses along your neck, your perfume filling his nostrils.

"A sexier one, maybe?" He chuckled against your skin at your mockery, shaking his head. You felt his beard tickle your skin, making you smile even wider. He leaned back, looking between your eyes and your sweet lips as he spoke.

"Hell, yeah. For my eyes only." He replied, that accent of his almost making you weak to your knees. His hands squeezed gently at your ass, licking his lips. He was happy. So damn happy by your side. Being your husband had been the best thing that has ever happened to him. He plainly could not believe you loved him. He couldn't believe you had wanted him and still do. What does an old redneck have to offer such a gorgeous woman? A lot, it seems. Because he still had so much love to offer you. He needed a lifetime by your side, hell, he was living it. But he knew it could never be enough.

"My wife."

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #norman reedus

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oscengrim · 1 day ago

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Don't questions my emotional state with all the content with feelings included. Just sort of vibing along

fallin’ all in you.

negan smith x fem!reader

word count. 1.7k

synopsis. your “enemies-with-benefits” situation is turning into something more, or at least that’s what negan thinks.

notes. smut — slightly angsty sex but also kinda soft?, fingering, making out, unprotected piv, negan’s caught feelings, yearning!! (i’m so delusional)

gif by sweeetestcurse & divider by enchanthings

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

It’s a cruel thing to say in bed—or in your case, the back of his stolen RV. Left in nothing but your undergarments, your bodies were already melded with sweat and fervour, limbs entwined into a tangled frenzy. As if the way you were kissing him back was impersonal—Negan knew you wanted this just as much as he did. The patchy stains of the old leather couch and the low growls of walkers nearby didn’t seem to be obstructing factors; he was simply too engrossed in the taste of your lips, the raw scent of anticipated sex filling his lungs.

You see, your words always said one thing, but your body would say another. With one hand cupping your cheek, locking your swollen lips against his, Negan only needed to sneak his other hand beneath the soft material of your panties, run his fingers through your folds to find that you were absolutely soaked to the core.

At the evidence, he couldn’t help but let out a low, conceited chuckle, pulling away from your mouth as his warm breath feathered over the shell of your ear. “You keep tellin’ that to yourself, darlin’. But just know—” Teasingly, he grazed his two fingers against your walls, coating them with your juices. “I’m exactly what this fuckin’ pussy needs.”

His face hovered over yours as his eyes eagerly scanned your features, searching for even the slightest reaction while his deft fingers continued to stroke your clit. You’ve always tried to remain stoic upon hearing his provocative words, unfazed by his risqué nature, but he just knew you were affected by it all—be it a small shift in your stance, the way you’d swallow as if something particularly hard was going down your throat, or when he inched closer to observe your pupils dilate—the movements were subtle, but the signs were telltale.

This time, it’s when he’s stroked a particularly sensitive spot, that your mouth slightly gaped open, and you elicited a sharp inhale. Your grip on his shoulders tightened. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy under his touch, and his grin grew wider when he felt you slowly beginning to rock yourself against his fingers.

“Look at that,” Negan cooed with a triumphant smile, knowing you were begrudgingly trying to hold back a moan. He glanced down to watch the up-and-down motion of your hips, while his fingers relentlessly stimulated the wet heat between your legs. “Don’t mean anythin’, huh? You’re fucking yourself on my—”

In a sudden, unanticipated movement, your hands flew to his cheeks, pulling his gaze forward as you slammed his lips back against yours. His eyes widened, stunned that for once, you initiated the kiss, and in a heartbeat, his lips started moving in sync with yours.

But no sooner had his mouth caught up to speed than you whispered harshly against his quickening breath, and Negan then recognised it had been nothing more than an effort to silence him. “You never shut up, do you?” you panted, beads of sweat trickling down your furrowed eyebrows.

So often had he allowed himself to believe you saw him as something past an enemy, that this clandestine arrangement was not just purely transactional. It may have started as just that, but as the nights carried on, there was an undeniable, gradual shift in the atmosphere—something weighty and unspoken, maybe even akin to love-making. He found himself wondering lately if you felt this way too, that the act itself was no longer just senseless self-gratification—if feelings were becoming involved. Surely, you must’ve.

But for now, he chose to put those spiraling thoughts to rest. He’s been waiting the whole week to have you beneath him again, and he could definitely puzzle over your feelings later. Plus, with the growing friction between your communities, tensions rising to an all-time high on both sides of the war, who knows? This may very well be the last time he’ll get to have you in his arms.

Your snide remark long-forgotten, Negan dived back into your lips, devouring you once more. Too caught up in the kiss, he doesn’t realise that his movements in your clit had stopped, and his hands had moved to cradle your face, absent-mindedly stroking your jaw with his thumbs.

You must’ve expected him to move past the foreplay by now, because when he suddenly felt you buck against his bulge, a deep groan clawed from the back of his throat, and he knew it was your body’s silent, frustrated plea to speed up the tempo. You parted from his lips, and your hands hastily shifted down to palm the tent in his boxers, earning another throaty groan from Negan.

“Patience, baby,” he exhaled shakily, moving to enrapture your neck with open-mouthed kisses, then feeling you shudder when he nipped at your collarbone. Tonight just felt different—he deliberately wanted to savour your taste, sweetly caress your skin like real lovers would.

You, on the other hand, grew annoyed. “You’re taking your damn sweet time,” you chastised, eliciting a sharp breath. Too impatient and unbothered, you merely slipped your underwear halfway across your thighs, before you reached into his boxers to free his length.

Negan hissed against your skin, just as you guided the tip of his cock to your soaked entrance. Then, in one slick motion, he pushed past your folds, and hearing the soft moan you let out was always like a hard-earned reward.

“Fuck—” he cursed with a shaky breath, feeling your walls taut around him, sending his mind pooling in ecstasy. “You’re so fucking tight.”

And when he began to roll his hips forward, another pleasant whimper escaped from your lips. It spurred him on all the more, wanting to keep extracting all of your sweet noises. Your bodies started to undulate with each thrust, as Negan buried his head in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses all over your skin. Meanwhile, your hands frantically raked through his dark curls, pulling your naked chests impossibly closer.

“Negan.”

A fiery ache swirled in his chest upon hearing the adoring slip of his name from your tongue.

All these nights, it felt as if your bodily reactions were his only form of reassurance—that underneath all the hatred and contempt you harboured towards him, there was still a carnal desire, however forbidden, that only he could satisfy.

He knew what you tasted like, knew all the right ways to get you aroused, all the sensitive spots to draw out a precious mewl. Yet, it wasn’t enough. He had all he could of you, physically, but it just wasn’t enough. This had undoubtedly grown beyond the simple release of pent-up stress, the stimulating sounds of skin slapping against skin, the feeling of a blissful undoing.

Negan came to a realisation. He wanted something visceral, something intangible—something he knew was utterly impossible.

Your affection.

His rhythmic pace stopped as he stilled inside you for a moment, shifting to rest his forehead against yours, noses nudging against each other. He fiercely met your gaze, but the words came out in a gentle, uncharacteristic plea.

“Tell me you don’t hate me.”

He saw the way your eyes slightly widened in surprise, the crease between your eyebrows softening. For a second, he thought he stood a chance of hearing the words he craved for. But when your lips parted, you only responded with confusion. “Wh—what?”

“Tell me,” he punctuated with a sudden, deep thrust, moving within you once more, making your breath hitch. He shut his eyes, a fire rekindling in his abdomen, as the words became contorted with an edge of despair. “Tell me you don’t hate me. Please.”

“I…” The relentless rocking of your bodies cut short your hesitant response, releasing a string of whimpers as your pleasure intensified, and your hands moved to cling onto his shoulders.

Negan felt your walls convulsing madly around him, and in turn a fervent heat building in his pelvis. “Please,” he croaked, hearing his own voice turn hoarse. “Just say it, please.” He plunged his length in and out of you, and as if in a final, desperate act of tenderness, he showered feverish kisses all over your features—your nose, your cheeks, your jaw.

“Negan, I…” you feebly murmured, your breathing turned erratic. He knew you were on the precipice of your climax, and in tandem, he began to chase his own orgasm. But just as he gave one last thrust—his hips jerking to a halt, and a white, hot release pooled between your thighs—he heard you whisper out, “I can’t.”

Somewhere along the night, you had knocked out from all the action, but Negan had chosen to remain awake for the past few hours. He had reached for a blanket to cover the both of you while you slept, but other than that, he made minimal to no movements, even as the early traces of daylight began crawling through the window blinds.

He wasn’t a man who knew peace ever since the apocalypse, but as he gazed into the sunrise, with the feeling of you snug against his chest, maybe it had found him for once. If only this was what he woke up to every day—you cuddled in his arms, your face nuzzled into his neck as he heard the soft rise and fall of every breath. What wouldn’t he give, just to stay in this moment forever? You were sleeping so soundly beside him, as if you didn’t resent every fibre of his being, as if all the words you spoke to him weren’t intended to wound.

Hesitantly, he reached out a hand, brushing his knuckles past your cheek in a feather-light caress. When you stirred, he stiffened immediately, wincing at the thought of you waking up with a start, scrambling to put your clothes on and dashing out of the RV. But when you only nestled further into his embrace, blissfully unaware, a soft smile tugged at his features. With more courage this time, Negan planted a tender kiss on your temple, his lips lingering there for just a moment longer.

Maybe once all the fighting was over, he’d claim you for real.

notes. so.. it’s been a hot minute, but i’ve still been lurking on tumblr! if anyone’s wondering, i have been trying to write a few fics these past few months, but sadly they’ve all accumulated to incomplete drafts, and somewhere along the line i lost the motivation to finish them :’( my perfectionism and imposter syndrome hasn’t been helping either, but hey, maybe it’s all in the process of writing, which is something that’s still relatively new to me so we’re not giving up just yet!

speaking of which, this was intended to be a drabble and is actually my first attempt to write smut after a few years of avid reading. i’m happy i saw this through, and i hope this was okay! if you made it this far, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

#negan smith x reader #the walking dead #negan smith #negan x reader #negan smut #negan smith smut #twd #twd negan #twd fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan

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