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xoxo-sarah · 4 months ago

Text

My Wife

Part 2 | part 3

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

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

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Daryl Dixon masterlist

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

Part 2

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

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

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feral4daryl · 1 year ago

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masterlist || MDNI

sweet scent.

perv!daryl x fem!reader

summary: while looking for his crossbow around the house, daryl ends up finding a pile of your dirty clothes and... used panties of yours. and when no one's looking, he decides to have some fun with them.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl is in his late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18), not entirely proofread, smut, mean!daryl sort of, corruption kink, daryl being an absolute pervert, panties sniffing, daddy kink, masturbation, cussing, daryl imagining himself doing the dirtiest things to you (unprotected p-in-v, squirting, face fucking, praising, loss of virginity, cunnilingus and i think that's pretty much it)

word count: 2.8k

a/n: please proceed with caution, this piece of work portrays a few extreme or unusual fetishes, so if you're not comfortable with any of those i've listed above please do not ready this. the idea that inspired this work originally belongs to @dilfsandmartinis.

if there was something daryl absolutely hated, it was the feeling of uselessness.

since andrea had mistaken him for a walker and shot him from afar, grazing his head, useless was exactly how he felt, having to lay down on a bed the whole day and night, doing absolutely nothing but be left alone with his own thoughts. and oh, what a disgraceful fate.

everytime he wasn't focused on hunting, fighting or surviving in general, the farmer's sweet younger daughter flooded his mind. your hair, your face, your stupidly adorable sundresses, everything about you was so... distracting.

daryl wasn't ever the kind of guy to simp for a woman, but that one specific girl made him feel emotions and sensations that were hidden deep within his being for years, maybe even decades. feelings he thought had vanished from his heart a long time ago were now blooming all over again, like he was some stupid teenager looking at a playboy magazine for the first time.

there was something about your innocence, your adorable mannerisms, your sweet voice and your kindness that had awakened something in him, something he wasn't quite sure what it was.

no, he wasn't exactly a young man. and while being aware that you were very young, he couldn't help but feel so guilty for having those feelings. whenever you bended over to pick something up, he had to fight demons not to have a glimpse of your panties. he often wondered how could you be so careless by exposing yourself like that, even if you didn't do it on purpose.

and there was him again, thinking about you. it's like no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts away, they were like water, always finding a way in.

he huffed, feeling defeated. he knew he was still recovering from the incident, and that he should rest, but why was he following orders around anyways? he wasn't a damn puppy. plus, everybody else had left him there to go looking for sophia. he wanted to be able to help too. he was alive after all, and if he was alive, he believed he should be on his feet.

so that's what he did. he slowly lifted his right foot, resting it on the floor, then he did the same with his left one. his body reluctantly lifted itself up, and he immediately could feel the consequences for laying down for so long, his back killing him and his vision a bit foggy. anyways, he ignored any discomfort and started walking slowly, his head still a little dizzy.

then, he remembered he needed his trustworthy crossbow, he couldn't just leave unprotected like that. he looked around the room he was settled in but it was nowhere to be seen. he knew it was still in the house, so he left the room. he started walking down the corridor, his eyes attentively looking for any signs of his crossbow. he was even starting to think that his mates might've hidden it to force him to stay in the house when he spotted a halfway open door.

his calloused hands pulled it open, revealing a small bedroom, all pink themed and stupidly decorated. no, his crossbow wasn't likely to be there, it just looked like it belonged to one of hershel's daughters, but it was like something was calling him in.

he stepped in the room and it almost looked messy. the dressing table on the corner had lipsticks, combs, all sorts of make-up and girly stuff all piled up and... a perfume.

it was happening again, images of you flooded his mind and it was like he could almost smell you. oh, your sweet scent had the power to make him hard like nothing else. just by looking at that small bottle, just by imagining your scent, he could feel little shock waves travelling all the way down to his cock, threatening to awaken it.

he knew it was wrong, so fucking wrong thinking about a much younger girl like that. and it was even worse considering that you were the daughter of the man that provided him shelter in such difficult times. it felt ungrateful.

when he saw you for the first time, he didn't think much of you. he was actually careful, treating you like the stranger you were. and even when time passed, he never really got close to you. now and then you tried to share a word, even if just a little bit, but it seemed useless since he would reject all your attempted approaches. he didn't hate you like he tried to after acknowledging his disgusting desires for you, but he just couldn't allow himself to interact with a girl that made him sick to his stomach for all the wrong reasons.

your sweetness was almost annoying. the entire world had gone to shit, for goodness sake! dead bodies walking around and eating all the people they could find. how could you act so clueless all the time? daryl even wondered if you had ever seen a walker before, if you knew what was really happening out there. after all, it was very obvious that you were a daddy's girl, always protected under your father's wing.

but strangely enough, acknowledging that only made him protective towards you. he was always somewhat watching, always around you making sure you were safe and he barely knew why, he just felt like he should.

so he didn't stop himself from reaching over to your small perfume bottle. the design was very simple, no labels to be seen, time had probably faded it away. the cap was baby pink and heart shaped, and when he removed it, he immediately brought the bottle to his nose, giving it a gentle sniff.

fuck.

now, he was 100% sure that was your room. the fragrance was the same one that filled his nose and made him drunk in you everytime you walked by. he wondered if that was the scent he would feel if he ever hugged you, burying his face into your chest.

in that moment, he couldn't think about anything else, not rick, not carol, not his chores, not surviving, not even sophia. you were everything that he had in his fucked up mind.

he wouldn't feel so fucking guilty if his thoughts were only about your innocence and sweetness, but they were also dirty as fuck. countless were the times when daryl imagined groping you, running his hands all over your delicate body, feeling every texture, squeezing every junk and listening close to your every little whimper. he would pull your hair, gently at first, just to get it off your face and neck so he could pamper them with little wet kisses, gently scratching his teeth along them. he imagined he'd have to keep you on your feet himself, since you'd struggle to because of how weak your knees would get at all the sensations he would provide you and...

wait, no.

what was he thinking? was he out his fucking mind? he needed to stop those absolutely disgusting thoughts right away. he couldn't keep having those thoughts about you, not when you're out taking care of such important business with the others. he put the perfume bottle back on the dressing table, determined to let all that go. he knew he couldn't just let himself get so distracted like that over something so mundane and unimportant as his own sexual desires but then...

...he spotted a basket filled with clothes when he turned around to leave. his mind immediately started to rush all over again, and for the 100th time that day, he turned careless. he slowly approached it. shorts, tops, pants and so on could be seen at the top of the pile.

in that moment, he had totally forgot why he had entered that bedroom or even left his bed in the first place. he couldn't even remember the existence of his crossbow or his duties.

and then... he gets an idea. he starts going through the pile of dirty clothes and in no time, he finds your panties. they were white with a pink ribbon on the front, a clear reminder of your innocence. for a moment, he just looks at it, contemplating the possibilities. then, he remembers seeing you in it when you bended over to pick some off the floor the day before. he remembers catching a glimpse of it under your yellow sundress when you went to change his bandage.

that meant that those panties had been freshly worn.

if just your perfume ignited such vile desires in him, he couldn't even imagine what your natural scent could do to him. and he was oh so curious to find out. he still felt guilty, but that man had been sex deprived for so fucking long, he didn't even masturbate very often. he knew damn well he was about to commit a big mistake, maybe even starting something he was sure he couldn't finish, but he finally made up his mind.

he flips the small piece of cloth over, eyeing the soft-looking lining of the panties. he gulps, feeling his mouth water right away. god, what was he doing? what was right, what was wrong wasn't even important to him anymore. he just wanted to embrace his sickness.

there was a small stain on the lining, probably from you wearing it. just that sight alone was enough to get him off, and once again, he found himself having to face that tingling sensation inside his pants. he knew damn well what that meant and what was about to happen. but honestly, he couldn't give a single fuck anymore.

in one quick motion, he brought the fabric to his face, giving a long sniff while he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. that fucking scent of yours got him drunk the moment it filled his nostrils. so intense, so feminine and raw, daryl couldn't remember the last time he felt that type of pleasure, or if he had even felt anything like it before.

it made him needy like a horny teenager. he felt himself going back to puberty when all he could think about was jacking off day and night. and it was all your fucking fault.

daryl palmed himself through his denim pants, never taking your panties off his face not even for one second. the natural scent of your cunt was more than successful to make him hard as a rock, the sensation of being in his pants started to get uncomfortable as his dick grew bigger and bigger.

just palming himself wasn't enough.

he slowly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, inserting one of his hand in his briefs to catch his hard cock in it, freeing it for the first time in a while. his angry-red tip was literally pulsating while a clear and sticky liquid dropped down his length.

he wasn't able to hold a small grunt as he wrapped his calloused hand around his cock, the rough sensation of his fingers causing him to feel a jolt of pleasure so fucking delicious and guilty at the same time. the archer brought his hand to his mouth, catching some of his saliva to use as lube.

oh, how he wished you were there. he'd make sure you'd get his cock nice and wet with your spit so you could rub it up and down. and then, without warnings, he'd just shove it down your throat, forcing you to prove how much of a good girl you could be just for him.

and just for him. he wanted you all for his own. daryl never really liked to share, specially when it came to a girl like you, so princess like, so adorable looking. your plump lips looked so fucking perfect, and they would look even more wrapped around his big cock.

knowing how fragile you were, he knew you would definitely choke and gag on him, struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. he would whisper sweet encouragement words to you like “tha's it, tha's ma good girl”. he imagined how he would hold your head in place and keep a hand on your throat so he could feel his cock while he aggressively pumped it in and out, making you drool all over him. “just like tha', yeah, show daddy how fuckin' good ya are fer him”.

in his imagination, you would look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, with a mix of uncertainty and desire to make him proud. “am i doing this right, daddy?” he could almost hear your voice saying it whenever you would take him off his mouth to catch your breath for a moment, never disconnecting your small hand from his thick length.

he started pumping faster, squelching sounds were all that could be heard in that silent room, a proof of his degeneracy. the grunts and stifled moans were only getting harder and harder to hold back. he was sticking those panties to his face and sniffing on them like his life depended on it, like he was a desperate virgin.

a virgin. he wondered if you were one. you sure looked like it, your dad never let you out of sight for long enough for you to try something like that, he supposed from what he knew about your relationship. he imagined how would it feel like to be the one to pop your cherry for the first time.

oh, he would teach you so many things, everything he knows. he would guide you through it all along, teaching you where to touch, where to kiss, where to lick. he would make your virgin little cunny cum so many times it would get all puffy and red. he even wondered if he could make you squirt, stuffing you with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot over and over again until you were a quivering mess, squirting all over his skull tattoo. and yes, he would make you lick his fingers clean, your sweet little tongue dragging across them, and then, he would kneel down in front of you, not wanting to waste a single drop of your sweet release, attacking your sensitive clit and slit with his lips and tongue.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

he was so fucking eager to taste your slick, to revel in your salty taste. he imagined how fucking good the smell he was getting from your panties was from the actual source. he would lick it all, your lips, your slit, even your ass, but he would give special attention to your little clit, flicking his tongue on it, making it cum again just for him. he would never grow tired of it.

and when he felt you were finally ready for him, he would bend you over just like you used to do so absentmindedly. he would be gentle at first, but knowing himself, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for too long before absolutely railing the shit out of you, making you cry out and scream his name in pleasure and pain.

and when he flipped you over on your back, he would be able to see the bulge on your lower belly caused by his big cock inside you. just by imagining that he felt himself getting close to the edge. he would press his hand on it, making the little room inside your pussy even tighter. fuck, he imagined the sweet sounds you would make just for him.

all those dirty thoughts and your sweet scent from your panties were more than enough to make shivers run down his spine and his whole body tremble. he kept his eyes shut tight as he licked a stripe on the lining of your panties, trying to get some of your delicious taste. meanwhile, he hadn't stopped his hands not even for a second, harshly rubbing his cock up and down until it was too much.

in a strangled moan, his cock started shooting spurt after spurt of thick cum onto the floor, the dressing table and pretty much anything that was around. he couldn't remember the last time he had such an intense orgasm, the sensation making his mind completely empty except for your image.

his movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. he sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. he opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

you. standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

“u-uncle daryl?”

[PART TWO]

a/n: i know, i'm disgusting. i'm sorry. (just a quick reminder, english isn't my first language, so please excuse any grammar mistakes or awkward phrasing lmao, and tysm if you read it this far)

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corvidcrossbow · 9 months ago

Text

~•♡•~ I Like It Long

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

➳ Setting: Alexandria, post Savior war

➳ Word count: 1.4k

➳ C/W: Just smut n hair pulling

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ain't got no ‘hobo-beard’.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

❥-》》—————➣

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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heathermason6060 · 3 months ago

Text

Rick Grimes x F!Reader x Daryl Dixon Smut: And There was only One Bed

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected sex, jealous Rick, awkward inexperienced Daryl, dry humping, spooning sex, oral, handjobs (Daryl receiving), staying quiet/fear of being caught, Daryl pretending to be asleep

Summary: Rick, Daryl, and reader get caught out on a storm and take shelter in a small cabin. They're stuck there for the night, and you'll never guess what happens next. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

Notes: God this is so hot I don't care that the morals are questionable!!!! I need it more than anything I've ever needed before thank you for requesting anon

Being squished between a snoring Daryl and Rick's hard-on was not how you imagined your night going when you set out that morning.

It was supposed to be a cut and dry intel run. Scope out the new group nearby, learn a few things, maybe grab some supplies on your way back, but no, it's never that easy.

First off, you couldn't find the group. Aaron claimed they were composed of maybe forty people living in the nearby school, but the place was quiet when you'd checked it out.

Then, Rick's truck broke down. Dead battery. Daryl set out looking for one with enough juice to get you home when the first signs of a storm rolled in. Angry dark clouds and cold fat raindrops.

The only place nearby in walking distance was down a long gravel road. It was the smallest, but also the cutest, cabin you'd ever laid eyes on. It only had three rooms, one bedroom with a bathroom, and a large open living area that held a tiny kitchen and a couch with a fireplace.

“Get those windows boarded up.”

Rick was quick to spew out commands after the three of you busted through the front door, all wet and shivering. The wind was so strong it slammed the door closed behind you, blowing the curtains and causing stray paper to fly off their tables.

“Can't!” Daryl shouted. He stood behind you shielding his face from the rain shooting through the broken windows.

That's how you ended up in the bedroom. You sat shivering on the foot of the bed as Rick went through the dresser, looking for clothes to replace the soaking fabric you all wore.

Daryl slid the bedroom vanity in front of the door. He even went as far as to set the armchair on top of it.

“Can we just wait it out?” Your teeth clattered together as Rick tossed you a towel from the closet. You ruffled it in your hair and watched Daryl.

He was standing in front of the only window in the room, his arms crossed and his thumbnail between his teeth.

“Yeah, should ease up soon.” Rick sat on the bed opposite from you, drying his arms and hair with his own towel.

“Naw.” Daryl muttered. He finally turned away from the window and began drying himself. “Gonna be a few hours, at least.”

You furrowed your brows, looking down in your lap. This was quite the predicament. Stuck in a bedroom with two men, one you barely knew and were pretty sure hated you.

The other… Well, you weren't sure what Rick was to you.

Daryl wasn't right, but he wasn't wrong either. The storm did continue for a few hours, but it also didn't show any signs of stopping.

You glanced down at your watch and felt your heart drop. It was seven pm, and the sun would be setting very soon. Not that you could see much outside anyways, the clouds were thick and covered a majority of the sky.

Your voice broke the long streak of silence.

“Are we gonna have to stay here tonight?”

Rick and Daryl had known the answer to that question two hours prior. Neither of them wanted to be the ones to say it, but their lack of direct answers filled you in enough. Rick looked down at his revolver and Daryl continued staring out the window.

“Fuck.” You groaned, sitting back down on the bed. “I promised Maggie we'd watch season two of True Blood tonight.”

“That dog fucker show?” Daryl muttered around his cigarette. He was leaning against the wall next to the window, legs crossed at the ankles, cleaning under his nails with the blade of his knife.

“No Daryl, there's no dog fucking.” You sighed and he just mumbled in response, not looking up from his fingers.

Rick had made himself busy trying to prepare the room for the night.

He'd found a few hurricane lanterns and set two up on the bedside tables, and began anxiously ‘cleaning’. The room only had the bed, dresser, and bedside tables, so there wasn't much he could do besides look in the same drawers over and over.

At some point he went into the small bathroom and shut the door. He stayed there for a couple minutes, doing god knows what.

There were a few clothing items left by the previous owners. Daryl and Rick got some raggedy sweatpants, shirts full of holes that were a little too small for them. You were stuck with a massive piss yellow sweater and the ugliest pair of basketball shorts.

Anything was better than your soaking rags.

The storm had eased up a bit, but that didn't do much in terms of easing your boredom. The sun had long since set, your watch read ten-thirty, and neither man was very talkative.

“I'll take first watch.” Daryl was the first to speak in a while.

“No. I'll do it.” Rick protested. He'd been cleaning his revolver for the last thirty minutes. “I can't sleep anyway.”

“Yeah, well. Neither can I.”

You'd found a box of random items under the bed and had been looking through them while they bickered. A dead Gameboy, random PlayStation controllers, a few comic books, pieces to Monopoly, and an array of broken crayons. There was a pen and a notepad though, so you started drawing a caricature of Daryl.

Angry eyebrows, a cigarette that was half his height in his frowning mouth, and a speech bubble filled with hash tags for explicatives.

“Hey.” You nudged Rick's knee with your elbow. He sat on the bed above where you were, cross-legged on the floor next to your box of bullshit.

He looked down at the paper you showed him, and for the first time that day you saw his lips twitching up into a smirk. His eyes trailed over the paper and he grabbed it from you, bringing it up closer to his face.

“Is that Daryl?” He questioned, and you nodded, a grin splitting across your face.

“That's good.” Rick nodded, shrugging his mouth. “You got a real talent. Looks just like him.”

Daryl was too bored to hide his interest, so he stood from his spot under the bedroom window and walked over to you. He grabbed the notepad from Rick, and you could see his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out your scribbles in the dim lighting.

“Yeah?” Daryl looked up when he heard the two of you stifling giggles and laughter. “Think that's funny? Gimme that.” He snatched the pen from your hands and flipped the page, sitting down on the dresser and scribbling furiously.

The pad was tossed in your lap a minute later. Your eyes widened on the drawing.

It was obviously you. You had on the same sweater, but it went down to your feet instead of your knees, and you were standing beside a cat. The only problem was, the cat was three times taller than you, and you had the ugliest expression on your face. Your mouth hung open and you were nagging the cat about scratching up the furniture. It was based on a scenario that had happened the day before, with your cat back home, Daisy, who you had caught shredding the living room couch.

“Dude, what am I? Two inches tall?” You laughed, handing the paper to Rick. He covered his mouth to hide the smile, but you saw it through his fingers and stood to give him a shove.

“Right, sorry. Drew ya too big. Hold on.” Daryl came over and drew a new stick figure of you so small that it was the size of a real ant.

“Ooookay, fuck you.”

Daryl dogged the small notepad you'd tossed at his face, and started laughing. Actually laughing. Your smile grew softer as he and Rick began to joke. It had been a while since you'd seen either of them behave in such a lighthearted manner. It made the bare bedroom seem not so cold.

Eventually the curtains were drawn and the lanterns dimmed considerably. You'd claimed the only spot on the bed that wasn't lumpy or sunken, which just so happened to be the middle.

No other reason, promise.

For the sake of his joints, Daryl had given up trying to sit on the hard floor and joined you on the bed, claiming the side closest to the window. He'd made sure to put distance between you, so much so that he was nearly hanging off the edge.

Rick had a little more resolve than the other man and stood by the window for a bit, occasionally peeking out the heavy curtains to see the same amount of darkness as before.

“Thank god you showered this morning.” Rick grunted as he sat down on your left, knocking his boots together before he brought his legs up on the bed.

“Me?” You blurted immediately, already feeling the tiniest but of anxiety, Rick never teased you like that. He saved that for the men.

He gave a toothy grin and shook his head. “No. Him.” He pointed over your body to Daryl, who was smoking his third cigarette of the night. “Carol made him take his monthly shower after he came home covered in coyote blood.”

You giggled, glancing over at Daryl.

“Yeah. Laugh it up.” Daryl took a deep drag.

You kicked off your shoes and sat upright, taking off those god awful shorts while the two men continued to playfully insult each other.

Rick caught himself going quiet when he saw you pulling the shorts down your thighs, his mouth drying at the sight. Daryl quickly shot him a look, dragging his attention away from your now bare legs and back onto him.

You didn't notice a thing, but you wished you had. Maybe you'd have started grinding against him earlier that night.

You were the first to fall asleep, to no one's surprise. There were little things that you loved more in life than sleeping.

Curled up underneath the sheets that you'd checked twenty times for bugs, sleep came quick and easy for you.

The sweater you were wearing had become incredibly uncomfortable so you swapped it for Rick's hole ridden T-shirt, leaving him shirtless. The image of his bare chest and the muscles in his back almost gave you enough adrenaline to stay up the entire night, but Daryl's soft breathing and Rick's body heat beside you tugged you unconscious.

Rick was next to give in, he'd kicked his boots off and climbed under the sheets with you, not before sliding a pillow between your bodies, more for your consideration than his modesty. He didn't give a shit, but he was worried you might.

Daryl was last, and by complete accident. He'd meant to take the first watch but the sounds of rain on the roof, gentle thunder outside, and your soft breathing beside him had him out like a light.

Two hours went by before something woke Rick up. The feeling of pressure against his crotch.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times in a struggle to see, but the room was too dark to immediately recognize his surroundings.

Once he remembered where he was he relaxed. He closed his eyes again and almost fell back to sleep when he felt it.

A gentle nudge of something soft and plush against him, something that made him well aware of the situation in his sweatpants. He was painfully erect.

His eyes opened again, but the room was no easier to see in. He could still hear the sounds of quiet rain and wind, and the new sound of Daryl's soft snoring.

Then you whimpered.

It was quiet, barely audible, and whiny. You were squirming in your sleep, the pillow between the two of you now between your knees, separating them to prevent the annoying feeling of bone on bone.

Your ass moved back against him again. He pulled his hips back, his dick immediately complaining about the loss of contact with a slight twitch. He clenched his teeth together and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep.

Think about cold showers. You're taking a cold shower, he thought, taking deep breaths. Cold cold shower. She's in a cold shower--- raw potatoes, grub worms, rotten walker flesh, her flesh, her ass is only a few inches away, snug in those cute boyshort underwear-

Daryl let out a sudden louder snort, startling Rick out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, only closing once he heard the earlier gentle snores return.

Your movements stilled and he was able to sleep once again, not without an iron will mindset.

You weren't sure how long you'd been sleeping when you woke up. You checked your watch, seeing the green glowing hands pointed at the twelve and nine.

It was only twelve forty-five.

You sighed.

The room had grown colder as the night went on, cold air seeping through the thin cracks in the walls and floorboards.

As a result of said colder temperature, Daryl had moved closer to you, be that in his sleep or on purpose, you didn't know. All you knew was he was there on your right side, his bicep warm and pressed against your upper chest.

Rick had also moved closer. So close, in fact, that his hand was on your waist, resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Your heart sped up when you realized this, and when he pulled you closer in his sleep you almost gasped.

He was hard.

Like, really hard.

You could feel it behind his sweatpants pressed right into your ass. His breathing was slow and deep, letting you know that he was definitely asleep, not that the knowledge did much to stop the arousal filling your chest.

You couldn't stop the whimper that sounded deep in your throat. Daryl's snoring covered it, or you thought it did. Rick stirred behind you and you heard the sound of him sniffing sleepily.

He had to be awake, you were sure of it. His breathing had become quiet, much different than the sounds of someone who was deep in sleep. He made no move to pull his hand away from your hip, confusing you even further.

Maybe he wasn't awake.

A lightbulb went off. You wiggled your hips, very slightly, only a few millimeters side to side. It was enough to gain a reaction from him, which let you know that he was definitely awake.

Rick's grip tightened on your hip.

Then he pushed into you.

There was nothing you could've done to prepare yourself for that kind of response. You sucked in a breath and felt your pussy throb. It was such a faint and quick movement, but you could vividly feel the shape of his dick pressing against your ass.

You heard movement behind you, the sound of his stubble scraping across his pillow as he moved his lips to your ear, speaking barely above a whisper.

“Stay still.”

Your eyes flicked to Daryls face.

You could barely see the outline of his head illuminated in moonlight thanks to the parting clouds. His nose pointed up at the ceiling, his lips parted as he breathed.

A wave of heat traveled through your body, starting in your chest and shooting down to your core. You felt that flipping sensation in your lower stomach and you whimpered again, rubbing your thighs together.

Rick inhaled deeply through his nose at the action. His hand shifted upwards, moving over your hip and splaying over the curve of your waist. He could feel you pressed against him, even if you weren't moving, and it made him groan faintly.

The sound of him groaning sent another spark through your core. You couldn't help it, you arched your back just enough to feel friction. You were too weak willed.

“Sweetheart.” He breathed, his forehead resting against the back of your hair to try and steady himself. “You gotta stop, please.”

He hated how desperate and wrecked the whispered words came from his lips. Hated how his dick was aching in his boxer briefs.

Hated how he was just as weak willed as you, his hips moving forward in a way that betrayed his words and stomped them in the mud.

You couldn't understand why you were so unbearably aroused. You weren't a teenager going through puberty. You've had partners.

Sure, you had a little admiration-fueled crush on the two men, but the way your body was behaving was animalistic. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your chest and your pussy was soaked.

If only you had your vibrator that was back in Alexandria, you'd orgasm in five seconds, you knew that for a fucking fact.

Daryl muttered a nonsensical sentence in his sleep, his head lolling over in the direction of the window. His right arm rose to lay over his chest, and his left leg spread out in your direction.

His knee bumped against the top of your thighs, almost slipping between them.

You could've screamed.

You tried to stay still, really, you did. But the feeling of Rick pushing against you again, Daryl's knee nudging between your thighs, it was impossible. You moved your hips, intending on just pushing back against Rick but your action also succeeded in grinding down right on Daryl's knee.

Rick could feel resistance in your movement but his mind couldn't focus on anything but the feel of your plush ass pressing against his dick.

His blood ran cold at the sound of Daryl mumbling in his sleep again. He held his breath, waiting with baited breath to see if he'd stir awake.

Relief flooded his body after a moment of silence, and he pressed his face back into your hair. There was still a faint smell of shampoo or conditioner despite the earlier rain. The feminine smell made his dick twitch and he flexed his jaw.

You were caught between excitement and horror. Daryl's knee was wedged right between your thighs, and occasionally it would jerk up against you. Each time it would make you fight away a gasp, and make your clit throb.

Daryl was definitely asleep, right? If he woke up he'd roll over on his side, right? There was no way he was awake, pushing his knee right up against your pussy, right?

You reached down to grab Rick's hand, which was still resting against your waist, gripping onto his fingers for support. His fingers curled around your own and sent butterflies in your stomach at the feeling of comfort.

He hated himself for all of it, but in the moment, he felt like he didn't care. His hips rocked against yours, once, twice, the need to get relief clouding all judgment he was capable of having.

You couldn't help yourself either. Your eyes fluttered shut and you rolled your hips, soft and slow, against Rick's bulge and Daryl's knee. You'd tried several times to push it away, wiggle back further into Rick, but it was like there was a goddamn super magnet attached to your clit and his knee cap.

You bit down hard against your lip, trying to keep your voice from escaping. Everything felt so good, Rick dry humping his heart out, your clit buzzing, it all felt so overwhelmingly amazing that you hadn't even noticed Daryl's snoring was no longer present.

In the end, it wasn't enough, Rick was being too cautious. You needed more, just a little bit. You pushed back hard against him and heard his breath hitch in his throat. His hand gripped yours so tight it almost hurt, and he leaned into your ear.

“Movin’ too much. Stop.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You shook your head, your lip trembling between your teeth.

“Can't.” You breathed. You physically couldn't stop, you knew that and Rick knew that. You were both so close to relief, you'd already gotten this far, there was no point in stopping now. No going back.

Rick swallowed hard as he felt his resolve break at the way you and your body pleaded. It was all he needed. His hips moved a bit faster, a bit rougher. His hand left yours and grabbed the string of his sweatpants, fingertips pinching the ends, hesitating only for a second before he pulled.

Time seemed to literally freeze when you felt him digging his cock out behind you. Your heart stopped, your breathing stopped, and so did the grinding of your pelvis. You couldn't think. It was suddenly all too very real.

You didn't expect Rick to do something like this. The dry humping, sure. He was horny and it wasn't really that big of a deal. But this? Tugging down your underwear? Spitting on his hand and stroking his dick to get it wet for you? It felt like a dream and way too terrifying at the same time.

“Sweetheart…” His hot breath against your ear snapped you back to reality. “You… you gotta be quiet, okay? Promise?”

You'd never nodded so quickly and eagerly in your life. Your heart felt like it was literally up in your throat. The tight knot in your core became more and more taut, and it trembled when you felt the hot tip of his wet dick bump between your folds.

Rick nearly came when he felt how wet you were. It was mind blowing, you were fucking soaked. The hot lube was covering your pussy and trailing down the side of your ass, reaching his hip bone.

You inhaled deeply when you felt him start to push in. You'd think with how wet you were it would be easy, but your muscles were wound tight due to the nearly paralyzing fear of possibly waking Daryl.

There was a bit of self disgust when you felt the weight of reality sinking in. The absolute pathetic degeneracy of what you were doing with Daryl right next to you.

That self disgust faded when Rick pushed into you.

Rick swallowed a groan as his cock dug up into you, your walls hot and soft and squeezing the life out of him. He could feel how nervous you were so he slipped an arm over your side, his hand reaching for your own again.

You moaned.

His hand broke from your grip and clamped over your mouth. Neither of you moved for a solid minute.

It was the longest minute in history. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you, your clit throbbing so hard you thought it was going to have its own little heart attack.

Your thighs absentmindedly squeezed against Daryl's knee, and you were sure you'd start crying.

Finally, Rick began moving. His breathing was growing heavy behind your head, his face burying back into the mess of hair in front of him.

His movements were slow at first. Tantalizingly slow. He waited until he was sure you could stay quiet before picking up the pace.

Your eyes had adjusted a fair amount in the darkness. You looked up to Daryl, finding comfort when you saw his eyes were still closed, but he'd stopped snoring long ago.

You dismissed it and grabbed onto the wrist of the hand covering your mouth, gripping tight for support.

Your right hand slipped under the sheets to rest on your thigh, but instead landed on Daryl's lower thigh. He must've been a very heavy sleeper, because he didn't react to it beyond the muscles tensing under your palm.

The sound that escaped Rick's lips had your eyes rolling back into your head. A trembling whimper. His movements grew quicker and deeper, his dick dragging your walls against him, pulling out every drop of arousal he could and thrusting it back in.

Your mind spun as all thoughts left your brain. There was nothing going on up there anymore, just dark blackness, the feeling of Rick fucking you taking over your conscious body.

His hand grabbed yours, the one on Daryl's knee, and pulled it away from you, to the right.

When your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft, you didn't question it. You didn't even question his fingers moving yours to wrap around his dick.

Your eyes shot open.

Rick's dick was still inside you. His right hand was still on your mouth, his left on the small of your back.

Daryl's eyes were open, and looking right into yours.

You went to jerk your hand away out of reflex, but his grip was tight, forcing your fingers to stay wrapped around his thick cock. Your eyes flew over him, fighting to understand what was happening, when had he woken up? Just then? Or was he awake when he pushed his knee between your thighs?

The orgasm that came out of nowhere pushed all those questions aside.

You moaned against Rick's hand as you came, no longer trying to be quiet, no longer trying to keep your hips still. Your thighs clamped down on Daryl's knee, grinding rough and quick.

Much to Rick's absolute heart-stopping horror.

He tried to muffle your moans, forcing his hand down painfully hard on your mouth, but it did little. He bared his teeth near your ear and hissed for you to stop, the sound sharp and jarring as it came through his clenched teeth, but then his eyes landed on the scene over your body.

Daryl using your hand to stroke his dick. Daryl with his other arm bent behind his head, his face tilted to the side to watch your expressions with parted lips.

It took Rick a few seconds to recover from the near heart attack. He almost lost his boner from the heart dropping adrenaline, but your wet walls spasming around him coaxed his hips forward.

Now that you didn't need to be quiet you pulled Rick's hand off your mouth and gasped down a lungful of air. Your mouth was hot and dry, and it was hard to swallow.

You couldn't take your eyes off Daryl, his eyes, the eyes that hadn't left your face since he woke up.

God, he was unbelievably sexy. The way he was so responsive to your touch led you to believe your hand might possibly be the first hand to touch his dick other than his own.

He grunted softly, his eyes finally falling shut after you gently squeezed the base of his dick. You'd be content to get him off with one hand like you had been for the past few minutes, but you couldn't resist the urge to give him his first hand job and blowjob.

“Up.” You panted. You curled your finger at Daryl, pointing up. He happily obliged and sat upright, scooting up towards the headboard until his lap was right in front of your face.

He seemed absolutely thrilled, ecstatic even. His once heavy eyes were now wide open, watching every move you made as you shifted your upper half so your mouth could reach his dick.

Rick was still thrusting with hesitation when you moved. He watched you lick broad stripes on the underside of Daryl's dick, and he couldn't help but glance at his face to see his reaction.

Mouth hanging open, eyes clenched tightly shut, his expression almost looked pained. His hands had found their way to your hair, gripping two handfuls as he began trying to move your head for you.

You slapped his hands away and grabbed his wrists, an action that had his eyes opening and looking down at you.

“Don't.” Your hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of his tip. He pinched both his lips shut between his teeth, nodding quickly, a shaky closed-lip moan rattling in his throat.

Rick finally got ahold of himself and grabbed your hips to turn your lower half on your stomach. He kept his dick inside you as he slid on top of you, his knees spreading to rest on either side of your thighs.

You were taking Daryl's head past your lips when Rick suddenly fucked you like he'd been wanting to the entire time. Both his hands rested on the small of your back, pushing your hips down into the mattress with all his weight to keep them firmly in place.

You gasped around Daryl at the feeling of Rick pounding into you from above. It was a comically drastic change from only five minutes before when he thought Daryl was asleep.

Daryl's wrists flexed in your hands where you had them pressed against his lower stomach. You knew he was only keeping them there in your grasp because he allowed it, and not because you were somehow strong enough to keep even a single wrist of his in your fist, let alone two.

It took a lot of effort on Rick's part to actually finish. Having Daryl in the room when you fucked was one thing, but having him making all that noise just from your mouth was another.

He was honestly more surprised that Daryl actually enjoyed sex acts than the fact he was engaging in them with him in the room. With no one other than you, a girl he almost never saw him interact with.

Rick had assumed Daryl simply wasn't interested. Incorrectly assumed.

Either way, having Daryl only a few feet away from him while he had his dick inside you was something he wasn't sure he enjoyed. But the way you clenched around him every time he pulled back was enough to make him forget about it.

Daryl was struggling to keep himself together. He had no point of reference, but he thought you were incredibly talented at giving head. You were giving it your all, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. It was impressive how well you were managing to concentrate on blowing him with Rick making such a mess of your pussy.

You couldn't be happier. You knew there were so many women back in Alexandria that would kill to be in your position, lying in front of the Daryl Dixon, lying under the Rick Grimes, both of their dicks inside you.

“Wa-wait.” Daryl suddenly sputtered and ripped his wrists from your hands to cup the sides of your face, giving a few gentle slaps with the tips of his fingers.

You looked up, not taking your mouth off of him. His expression made your pussy clench around Rick and he groaned behind you, the sound raw and deep. He shifted his hips and ground down against you, quick and rough, his tip jabbing deep inside you.

The ragged moan you let out reverberated through Daryl, and the hand you had around his base gave a trembling squeeze.

“M’boutta, Jesus! Hey, oh, godfuckindamnit-” Daryl's jaw dropped and his eyes rolled back, his head tipping backwards as he made that same pained expression and came down your throat.

Your hips were roughly jerked up from the bed, shoving you back on Rick's dick, and then his hands slipped under your armpits to pull up your top half.

It was hard to stay upright, but thankfully Rick was generous enough to provide you the luxury of his hands tight against your tits, keeping your back flush against his chest.

Oh, it was a goddamn shame Daryl had just come. The sight in front of him was something he knew millions would pay- no, kill- to see. You looked breathtaking. Rick had taken your shirt off some time ago, leaving you completely bare as you kneeled in front of Daryl.

He forgot to breathe as he watched your face, slack in pleasure. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and on him, something that made his softening cock twitch. All that struggling just to look at someone like him? The hell did he deserve to have someone like you looking at him like that?

Rick deserved praise for the way he supported your weight with just his hands, keeping your entire upper half pressed against his chest while he fucked you in desperate effort to finally get off. His dick felt raw from how long he'd been at it, his balls throbbing from the delayed orgasm, it was a wonder he was able to keep himself upright, let alone you.

“Daryl.” The way you whimpered his name made his cock jump back to life, and he pushed himself up on his elbows to look up at you, eager to obey whatever it was you were about to ask.

“Yeah?” He rasped as he stared up at you.

You'd placed your hands over Rick's and moved his fingers over your nipples, which he was pinching and rolling, something he understood without you even needing to ask.

“Touch me, please.”

You didn't need to ask twice. Daryl inched down the bed and kept himself propped up on one elbow, his other arm sliding over his chest to reach your clit.

Rick decided at that moment he definitely didn't like threesomes. Feeling you twist and hearing you moan due to Daryl's thumb rubbing against you made his chest and face hot, a childish reaction considering you and Rick were not a thing, and certainly not an exclusive thing.

He just wasn't good at sharing.

The silly jealousy led to him putting his all into pleasing you. His thrusts became slower but deeper, more forceful, knocking out a gravely groan from your throat with each one. His hands left your breasts to tangle in your hair, pulling it up into a makeshift ponytail with his fist being the hair tie.

Your skin buzzed when he pressed his face into your neck to plant sloppy kisses. He bit down and you whined, arching your back against him and tilting your head to the side to provide him better access.

Unlike Rick, Daryl didn't have a care in the world. His mind was completely blank as he stared up at you above him, oblivious to the way his thumb cramped from the constant circles he rubbed into you.

“C'mere.” You breathed, wrapping your fingers in Daryl's hair to urge him up and guide his mouth to your nipples.

Daryl's eagerness to please was one of the hottest things you'd ever witnessed. He took your right nipple in his mouth and went to town like his life depended on it.

He flexed his tongue, digging the firm and wet muscle around your bud, circling it the same way his thumb now circled your clit.

Your orgasm came screeching out of nowhere.

You cried out and gripped Daryl's head tighter, pulling his mouth firm against your breast as you came.

The feeling of your walls squeezing the life out of his cock finally brought about Rick's own climax.

He wrapped his fist around the hair bundled in his grasp and tugged your head to the side, baring your neck to his itching teeth, and clamped down as he gave a rough thrust.

You'd failed to notice that at some point Daryl had grown hard again, only noticing when he let out a ragged moan into your wet chest.

Your bleary eyes found him and caught sight of his hand quickly jerking himself. There was the flash of thick cum spurting out, long ropes coating the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck.” You slurred. Now that was the new hottest thing you'd ever seen.

Rick's teeth released their grip on your neck. He pulled back and let his head droop back as he caught his breath, his shoulders heaving with deep and ragged pants. He became aware of how uncomfortably sweaty he was. His chest and back felt soaked, and he dropped your hair to pull away from you.

You heard Rick plop down on the bed behind you, the springs creaking from his sudden weight dropping on it all at once. You were too busy admiring Daryl to pay attention to it.

There was a lazy smile on your face, your eyes half lidded and glued to his face. Even though the room was dark you were sure you could see how red his cheeks were. His lips were glossy and parted as he took in deep breaths, still wet from drooling all over your tits.

He could barely keep his eyes open, and with the way you had one hand cupping his face, the other brushing back his sweaty hair, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The sweet way you were looking down at him was just too hard to look away from.

The next morning wasn't as awkward as one would think, even though it was obvious Rick was having some internal battle on the ethics of what he'd done the night before. He'd never been in a situation where he knew he really shouldn't be doing something like that, so his lack of restraint was new knowledge he'd have to ponder over.

Daryl couldn't give any less of a fuck, that morning he gave you the whole princess treatment. Grabbing your now dry clothes, your bag, your shoes, and bringing them to you. Offered you the last of his water and opened every door you came across for you. He didn't say much at all, much like Rick, but his mood was clearly the exact opposite.

It was so sweet it made your heart ache.

“Hey.” Rick pulled you aside after you finally got back home, shooting Daryl a look to give the two of you privacy.

“Hi.” You smiled. The stern look on his face was cute.

“What we did-”

“Don't.” You stopped him, giving the man a tired smile. “It was the sexiest thing I've ever done and I'm fine with it being a one time thing, but don't ruin it and tell me it was wrong.”

“I wasn't going to say that.” His gaze had softened, but he still looked down at you with his hands on his hips like a disappointed authority figure. “I just don't want you to think it's okay to bring up if we're all alone again.”

“I'm not stupid.” You snorted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Won't bring it up again.”

He sighed in frustration, trying not to roll his eyes but failing. “No, it ain't that either. Let's just- next time,” your eyes widened, “not be as spontaneous.”

You grinned. “Alright. You got it.”

Daryl was nowhere near as reserved about the experience. You could understand Rick's point of view, conservative family man, that was probably the most extreme thing he'd ever done in bed. But Daryl, oh, you'd just changed his fucking world.

“Pst.”

You stopped in front of the bathroom to see Daryl nodding you over, lighting a cigarette as he stood near the door to his room.

“Hi.” You smiled after approaching him.

“You okay?”

You beamed at the question, shifting your pile of clothes in your arms. “Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?”

He nodded as he took the first pull, turning his head to blow the smoke away from your face. “Is, uh…” He nodded his head to the front door, where Rick still stood on the porch talking to a few people. “He alright?”

“He's fine.”

“Alright. Good.” He shifted awkwardly. He cleared his throat, looking down at the cherry on his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. “That somethin' you wanna do again?”

You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the ecstatic smile that threatened to embarrass you, and nodded.

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh of relief and disbelief. There were a few seconds of silence, his eyes darting between his cigarette and your face. “With me?”

“Of course. Maybe next time just you.” You turned to head back to the bathroom but quickly turned on your heel and walked back to him. “Daryl? When did you,” you struggled to get the words out, ironic considering how bold youd been the night before, “you know, wake up?”

“Oh.” He grunted, his ears burning. “Dunno. While before.”

You felt a mix of embarrassment and relief. So he had pushed his knee between your legs on purpose. The thought had your stomach flipping and your face getting warm, so you gave a quick and polite smile before running off to the bathroom.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @jinx-nanami

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ashbye · 6 months ago

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Ok I'm sorry but if I see one more story labeled x reader and when I go to read it your fugly ass OC named 'nicole' or 'bridget' are in there IM GONNA LOSE MY FUCKING MIND! THAT IS NOT X READER! I know some of you could say "well just switch it out with your name"

NO I WILL NOT! ITS ABOUT THE PRINCIPLE OF FALSE ADVERTISING! STOP IT!

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

And if you are one of the people that does this... I will find you and it will not be pretty

No hate to you if your name is nicole or bridget those re just examples

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #lucaerys velaryon #gravity falls #geralt x you #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #spencer reid x reader #peter parker x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #Seriously please stop #im fucking SICK OF IT #legolas x reader #lord of the rings #the witcher #the walking dead

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ladymacbeth-writes-sometimes · 7 months ago

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this man knows EXACTLY what he's doing...

gifs from @rheedus

#norman reedus #norman reedus movies #im losing you 1998 #norman reedus movie #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you

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writella · 12 days ago

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Here He Is, Finally

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

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

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

A/N: He’s literally me (I’m a girl).

— With love from writella. ♡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl didn’t get any of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Obvious to say, he was noticed by all.

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

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

“Hi,” you say next to him.

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

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

He simply nods, humming as acknowledgment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

“What is your problem?”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because they hurt really bad!”

“You were being a baby.”

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

He sneered at the comment, wet.

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

“We don’t live together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, sure, can act like a tough—”

“I don’t act like anything—”

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

He takes a moment. “I just—”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

He sucks his teeth. “Be serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It's too hard to.”

“But I’ve never judged you, right? ”

He shakes his head. You haven’t.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Despite?”

“Despite.” He practically spits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It ain’t your fault.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“But I do… I do want you.”

“Then show me.”

“I don’t know how.”

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

“I picture you,” he says simply.

“You do?” Your face is immediately warm.

He laughs, “Of course I do.”

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

“Depends.”

“Pick one,” you say, almost desperately.

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

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

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

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

“Say it,” you tell him.

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

“You know we can do all that, right?”

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

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

He almost groans, “Now you do.”

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

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

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

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

“I think about you more.”

“You do?

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

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

“I wanna do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

But you nod assuredly. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

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

“Beautiful.”

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

“You sure?”

You just nod again, whining.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t want me to make you come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think those girls were right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here he is, finally.

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dixonsfawn · 5 months ago

Text

𖥔 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 𝐏 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𖥔

⊹ being a good girl and letting him use your mouth

⊹ daryl said he was handy, in more ways than one, so you tell him to prove it. he took it literally.

⊹ he comes back from a run to find you waiting for him in his cell

⊹ he loves taking you from behind, burying you deep in the couch

⊹ he loves to tease you and get you dripping wet first

⊹ he says he's inexperienced but he's always hitting the right spots

⊹ he's been away on a run all week and he’s feeling touch starved

⊹ him needing you so badly the second you're alone in alexandria

⊹ the group notice you and young!daryl missing from time to time when you’re supposed to be helping out around the farm

⊹ when the cell block is empty, daryl refuses to waste an opportunity to be inside you

⊹ you love helping him relieve tension when he comes home after a long day at the commonwealth

⊹ you sneak into daryl's cell but there's only so much you can do without risking getting pregnant

⊹ you were being extra bratty and he needed to teach you a lesson

⊹ young!bf!daryl who always sneaks into your room during the night when he needs to get away from his own house

⊹ young!daryl loves treating you like the pretty little slut you are

⊹ young!daryl loves watching you squirm as he thrusts deep into you

⊹ you’re always shocked by how good it feels when he’s inside you

#— 𝐯𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩 #— 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 ᡣ𐭩 #— 𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 .ᐟ #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon headcanon

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dixonzzgirl · 1 year ago

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imagine…

finding daryl a really cool zippo lighter and seeing him mindlessly flick it open and close throughout the day.

sitting with your feet in his lap while you both relax on the porch swing (alexandria era).

pinky linking instead of full on hand holding.

finally getting to the playful butt swat stage of your relationship + him winding up his t-shirt and chasing you around the house.

him praising you whenever you kill an animal: “nice shot, girl.” “look at you.“ “atta girl.”

reading a book with your legs crossed on his work bench as he tinkers with his bike.

getting a cold and when daryl dips down to kiss your lips, you turn your head away from him. “daryl, don’t! i don’t wanna get you sick!” and then he grabs your chin and presses a firm kiss on your lips anyway.

daryl finds a cowboy hat and drops it on your head. you let out a giggle. “what’s that saying? save a horse, ride a cowboy?” you smirk. his cheeks darken and he turns away from you. “think ya’ got tha’ backwards..” he drawls. “no? pretty sure i’m right…”

eating a lollipop and daryl walks right up and pulls it out of your mouth and puts it in his (or vise versa).

having a journal that you can both communicate in. we all know daryl isn’t the best at communicating his feelings verbally and maybe you aren’t either, so you just write back and forth to each other.

i love the journal idea because you would use it for everything. daryl has to be up early to help rick with something? he’ll scribble a quick “helping rick. come find me.” and as soon as you wake up and feel the void in bed beside you, you go right to the journal.

him getting hard as fuck when you give shane attitude (farm era).

you get into an accident on a run and ending up losing a lot of blood and you wake up later in the infirmary. “ya’ lost a lotta blood,” he says. “then i bet you did too…” you smiled groggily knowing that he gave you some of his (he’s a universal donor).

rubbing aloe vera on his sunburnt skin and he just lets out these sexy ass heavy breaths.

him watching you get visibly frustrated when someone else is helping you with something, but not doing it the way you want it done, so daryl steps in and tells them to get lost.

daryl giving you cold medicine while you’re sick and he makes you take it in front of him and open your mouth to show him that you swallowed it.

a/n: these are my favorite scenarios to imagine when I'm in class :) if you wanna use any of these ideas for a fic, tag me! i'd love to see them!

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fordaryl · 1 year ago

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REMEMBER.

minors dni. 2.6k words. smut. daryl dixon x fem!reader. protective daryl. hint of size kink. strength kink.

It's easy to forget his strength when his touch is always so gentle. When you're safe, he lets you forget everything he's capable of; the reason you've both made it this long.

Safety lets you forget.

And then—when it inevitably all it all goes to shit again—you remember.

"Get in!" he calls through the wall of bodies separating you. He keeps the attention of most of them, but there's a few stumbling in your direction—too many for you to handle alone. "Now!" he shouts as he takes another growling walker down.

It goes against every instinct you have—to leave him to fight this alone. But this was his domain. This was when you did whatever the fuck he told you to do. It was how you survived.

You drag the door of the container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the walkers. It would be if it weren't for Daryl. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.

One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.

One is fine. You can handle one.

Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on Daryl. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.

You kick the walker you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.

Locking it is another story.

You have no hope of accomplishing that.

Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Daryl keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.

Then one gets shot down. Daryl, is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Walkers you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.

They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Daryl anymore. He's either dead or hiding.

Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.

You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.

“What the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!”

Any second now... any second they'd find Daryl and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.

"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.

You hold your breath.

"Well check it out then!" another demands.

Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.

You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the walkers are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Daryl would be watching... waiting. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.

"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of your sights, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking."

You know what'll happened when they find you. It's the same thing each time. You're prey to people like these—something to hunt in a world without consequences for that kind of thing.

Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.

"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage—vulnerable. Not a threat. "I'm—I'm unarmed."

Then a bright light blinds you.

"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims. Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"

There it was. Little. Thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Daryl more time.

"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.

You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Daryl was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something.

You just had to stay alive.

"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.

You get muffled laughter in response. Guards down. Distracted.

"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."

They're flash lights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.

Five. You count five. If you kill two...

"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's younger, a little less distracted.

The rest ignore him. Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. They're hands send a wave of repulsion through your body as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their touch feels against your skin.

The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.

"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm says, clearly irritated and impatient.

"But—"

"Now."

His eyes narrow, but then he steps aside—his back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of walkers, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.

Then, only a few steps later—you're stopped. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."

You blink away the burn threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...

The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry walkers. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."

There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.

But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?

You were dying tonight if Daryl was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...

Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.

You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all.

The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.

Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.

You were nothing. Prey.

The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the head before he can get hands on his own weapon.

The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though, those moments with an enemy weapon pointed at your head always do.

But then Daryl is there, strangling the man with a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck you spot the bodies behind him.

He'd been waiting for you.

You watch him stand, hair hanging in his face and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.

Then his eyes are on you.

Then his hands.

Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky.

You nod.

"You did good," he says, that deep gravel back in his voice. "So good, sweetheart." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point to rest at your clavicle. "We gotta go," he says. "Stay close for me, yeah?"

—————

The first time after is always the same—after you're forced to remember. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legs. To the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.

His thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you.

"You like that sweetheart?" His voice is almost sweet as his lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. "Huh? You like that?"

You nod with a small whine, pressing your hips back into him—desperate.

He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entrance—a teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your slippery, spongy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.

"Fuck," he grunts. "You need me here? Huh? You all fuckin' empty?"

"Yeah," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."

His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the ground—cushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely, his warmth seeping into your skin from his calves to his hot breath on your neck.

"What do you need?" he asks. As if he doesn't know; as if he didn't always know.

"You."

"Hm?" he hums, sweet and coaxing. "How?"

You reach blindly to find his wrist, gripping it firmly. "Hold me tight," you gasp between jagged breaths. "Please... Please."

His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas.

Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he fucking knows.

He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waist—secure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on you; like he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.

Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. It's temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he'd buried himself deep; once his cock was guided safely into your throbbing cunt.

You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.

Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats. He mumbles this way as he teases; as he plays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink of desperate sobs as he guides his cockhead over your slippery, throbbing cunt... over and over.... and over...

Saying he liked you needy was an understatement.

Then, eventually, he slips inside. Just the tip.. and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.

This is when he gives you a hint of his strength. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his strong arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.

He keeps you there, just with a taste of that fullness—a taste of having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he says, simple and a little croaky.

You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily—his lips chasing yours as you attempt to catch your breath.

"Daryl," you gasp eventually. "Now. Please."

His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck.

Then he pulls you down to meet his cock, to fuck himself deep. It's hard, exactly like you need it—exactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his neck weakly as he keeps you there, stuffed full—the thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.

Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voice—like he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.

You nod weakly in response.

His fingers press into your skin moments before he's moving, fucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his messy thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.

He's got you.

His breathing is quickly transformed into uneven pants as he attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... aren't you, baby? Hm?"

One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better grip—or just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hard—never hurting.

"My girl," he grunts. "My needy little girl."

It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips and tugs you down to meet him as he uses you, each thrust a slapping of skin and punching a helpless sound from your lungs.

Strength. Everything you've been forced to remember.

"Daryl," you gasp. "Daryl, fill me. Please."

His fingers dig a little more into your skin, his hair falling over his eyes. Then his lips part, a grunt... a broken, "Fuck."

He falls over you as he floods you, his cock twitching and pumping you full—just like you asked. But even then, even as he loses himself, he catches his fall—arms landing either side of your head to cage you in. "Got you," he gasps out between desperate lung fulls of air. "I got you."

#daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon x reader #x reader #daryl imagines #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #mine: daryl dixon

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itsmeatballworld · 5 months ago

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it ends in heartbreak: part 2

wc | 370 [short and sweet sad]

pairing | daryl dixon x f!reader

a/n 2.0 | still working on part 3 (the finale) but I wrote a drabble from Daryl's POV in the meantime! no beta bc I'm sick and cannot reread to save my life <3

[ part one ] - [ part three ]

Daryl Dixon knew he fucked up the moment he opened his mouth. It was automatic the way each sentence spewed out, leaving him little time to process the garbage he was saying.

Get it through your head, girl. You ain’t mine.

He sat up night after night hoping you’d come back and scream at him for what he said. He wanted you to get mad, make him admit he fucked up. But the more the days passed, the more he knew that would never happen.

You’re just some bitch I screwed.

He winced.

He’s thought about how mean he was to you every single day. That ghastly look across your face burned into his memories, scarring the perfect image he had of you. And it was all because of him. That expression was caused by his vile words and he couldn’t live with that. Even after all the shit he said to you, the thought of you heartbroken made him sick.

This ain’t real.

You’re better off without me anyway.

But... he meant every word he said. You are better off without him. People who tend to love him either get hurt or die – and for your safety, you’d be better off never knowing him.

So as time went on he kept his distance from you.

The next few weeks turned to months and years quickly. There was a pain in your eyes that Daryl couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he’d try. If you’d glance at him for a moment, all those memories—good and bad—come flooding back.

So he ignored you. Long car rides? If he could, he’d be on his bike riding far away from you. Dinner time? Daryl was eating in his quarters alone. Need another person for a run? Anybody but you was an option. Hell he’d take Eugene first before even thinking to ask you to tag along.

It was clear to everyone including Daryl that he had a hard time admitting when he was wrong. He could say that had to do with growing up with abusive parents and a neglectful brother, but it wouldn’t change the fact that he hurt you deeply.

And there was no going back.

-xx-

taglist [this is anyone who asked to be tagged from pt 1 - if you'd like to be removed just message me!! ] @arubymachado @brokenrecorddd @love-zami @nixmhxx @just-always-tired @akasiamd @officiallyvioletz @leuriss

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #you x daryl dixon #y/n x daryl dixon #reader x daryl #reader x daryl dixon #daryl dixon x f!reader #angsty angst #daryl pov #twd drabble #twd fanfiction

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xd-m1a · 9 months ago

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I love how Norman just casually takes the HARDEST pics of himself. AND HE ALWAYS LOOKSBSO HOT INALL OF TJEM

#norman reedus #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twddaily #the walking dead #norman reedus edit #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus x you #norman reedus smut #norman reedus fanart #norman reedus fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl fanfiction #daryl x female reader #daryl dixion smut #daryl dixion x reader

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janiehellion · 6 months ago

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Healing Touch

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: When Daryl Dixon is injured and stuck in bed, he’s not exactly thrilled about the idea of being pampered by the group. But you? You’re more than ready to take care of him—and show him just what it means to be a good boy. Think Daryl Dixon’s all rough and tough? Think again...

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HANDJOB / TEASING / EDGING / ORGASM DENIAL

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.033

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S2E05—ᴄʜᴜᴘᴀᴄᴀʙʀᴀ & S2E06—ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, the Georgia sun burning down on you as you walked over to Maggie and Glenn outside of the house on Hershel's farm.

Every so often, you'd look towards the cars where a few others in the group were working, trying to make the most of the now limited supplies you all had left at the moment.

"I got a lot of corn here," Maggie said, holding up a can. "Maybe we can make some soup tonight. What do you think?"

Glenn laughed, "Soup sounds fine, I think. As long as we don’t have to eat beans again. I think I’m starting to sprout beans myself."

"Hey Maggie," you shouted over to her. "How’s everything going so far? You two need any help?"

Maggie gave you a small, but rather distracted, smile. "It’s been a quiet run, so we’re okay. We just came back a few minutes ago with some new supplies."

You nodded. "That's good. Means we won't starve anytime soon. Hey, listen, I heard Daryl’s still inside the house. Do you know how he is feeling? I really hope he is feeling better. Everything that has happened, I just... I don't know. I still can't wrap my head around it."

"Well, dad took care of him, just like he did with Carl, so I wouldn't worry too much about his condition. And if it would've worsened, dad would've told Rick already, that's for sure. But what has happened to him out there, and then the bullet? I don't know him well enough, but I think that he’s too stubborn to admit he even needed help in the first place. And that ear necklace? I'm sorry, but that was beyond creepy."

You remembered… Daryl has been out there, trying to find Sophia again. Of course, it all had to go sideways. You didn't know the details exactly, but you remembered how he had dragged himself back to the farm, looking like he’d been through hell and back. Covered in dirt and blood, and barely conscious.

Then, just when things couldn’t get any worse, Andrea took a shot at him from the roof of the RV. She’d been told to hold off by Rick, Shane, and Dale, but she fired anyway, hitting Daryl in the head, with the bullet grazing his temple.

"I’ll check on him," you now said, putting the supplies aside again. "You're right, he's too stubborn to admit it, but he needs someone to make sure he’s not pushing himself too hard. And if he could, he'd already be out there again."

As you walked towards the farmhouse, you passed by Rick, who was busy organizing and looking through different maps. He looked up at you, giving you a nod. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding rather exhausted. "Are you going to check on Daryl? Or are you going to help Beth and Lori in the kitchen?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. Daryl's been through hell while trying to find Sophia."

"Good idea. He’s definitely been through a lot, that's true. I mean, we all have. But just… be careful with him. You know how Daryl is."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know, Rick. That’s why I’m going to make sure he stays put and tied to the bed. Don't worry."

As you walked into the farmhouse, you could hear a voice coming from the kitchen, where Lori was preparing a meal with Beth together for Daryl and the rest of the group.

"Hello," Lori said and looked at you. "Are you going to see Daryl, or do you want to help us? Rick has been annoying me with me apparently needing help, even though Beth is helping me already."

You nodded, giving her a smile back. "Don't worry, Lori. I want to make sure Daryl's alright, you know, after everything that has happened lately."

She gave you a quick and thankful thumbs up before you continued heading to the room in which Daryl was in, but paused for a moment in front of the door, taking a deep breath. The thought of Daryl lying there, probably still hurt and so vulnerable, made your heart ache. He’d always been so strong, but seeing him in such a state was hard to imagine. And just as you were about to open the door, you heard a voice coming from the inside of the room.

You stopped, listening for a moment before pushing open the door to find Hershel standing by Daryl’s bedside.

"Evening, Hershel," you said as you entered the room, trying to keep your tone neutral despite the knot of nervousness in your stomach.

Hershel looked up, smiling at the sight of you. "Hey there, good to see you. I could use an extra pair of hands."

You moved closer to the bed, where Daryl lay, and Hershel continued, "Daryl’s been in and out of consciousness yesterday most of the time, but I’m hopeful he’ll recover fast if he gets the rest he needs. And if you could help changing the rest of the bandages right now, that would be great."

You nodded, taking a closer look at Daryl. "Sure, I’ll do whatever I can to help. I know he can be stubborn, but he needs to take it easy eventually."

"That’s the spirit. I’ve done what I can for now. He’ll need the rest."

You were still looking at Daryl as Hershel took a few steps back, who now moved slightly at the sound of your voice. His eyes opened just a little bit, and he looked at you with confusion.

"Hey, tough guy," you said. "How are you holding up so far?"

"Just peachy, as always," he answered rather annoyed.

You couldn’t help but smile at his answer. He certainly sounded like the Daryl Dixon that you all knew so far. "Well, I’m here now, so you’d better let me take care of you."

Hershel gave you another nod before finally walking out of the room. "Good, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, like more bandages, don’t hesitate to ask. We still got enough medical supplies left if needed."

"Thanks, Hershel," you replied, watching as he left the room.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the task ahead.

"What’re ya even doin’ here?" Daryl suddenly mumbled. "'M fine. Don’t need no babysittin’ bullshit. Ain't needin' ya 'round here either."

You gave him a smile, trying to hide how annoyed you already were with his usual behavior. "You’re obviously not fine, Daryl. You’ve been through a lot, and you know it. I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like trying to get up and do something you shouldn’t."

He grumbled in frustration, trying to turn away from you. "Yeah… whatever."

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. "Yeah... Too bad, huh? Because right now, that means letting me help you."

"Ain’t nothin’ you can do that Hershel didn’t already do," he mumbled again.

You set down the small medical kit Hershel had brought with him and pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Hershel did his part, sure, but it’s not just about the wounds. You need to rest and relax, and that’s where I come in. Also, taking off the old bandages and putting on new ones isn't that hard, but I doubt that you can do it yourself. And Hershel just left the room, so it's up to me now to change the rest of them. I don't care if you complain about it or not."

You then began to carefully take off the bandages from his side, where the crossbow bolt had pierced itself through. Daryl winced a little, but he didn’t complain so far, his pride keeping him quiet even though you could see how uncomfortable it was for him.

"You know, for someone who’s always acting so tough, you’re a real damn mess right now," you said, trying to break the ice with a bit of humor. "How’d you end up like that anyway? What even happened out there?"

Daryl smirked a bit to himself. "Ya think I’m gonna tell ya a story now? Hell, jus' get it over with."

You shook your head and laughed quietly, focusing on cleaning the wound first. "Hey, I'm not the one that looks like the wrong side of the bed became sentient and beat the ever-loving shit out of you. So you’re going to have to deal with me being the one to help you. It’s either that or I get someone else who’s less careful."

"Less careful?" Daryl asked, and he winced again as you applied antiseptic to the wound. "Sounds to me like yer enjoyin’ this."

You stopped for a moment and looked at him with a teasing smile. "You know what? Maybe I really am enjoying this. Or maybe I just want to make sure you’re not going to cause us any more trouble, even though we all appreciate what you did. Especially Carol."

"Ya think I need ya to look after me? I can handle myself jus' fine," he grumbled and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at you anymore.

You soon finished cleaning the wound and then continued with the fresh bandages. "Oh, I’m sure you can, Dixon. But that’s not even the point. The point is, you’re not in any shape to be running around and playing redneck cowboy."

Daryl moved slightly again, trying to get more comfortable. "Ain't in need to be told twice. Thank ya very much."

You stopped wrapping the bandage around him, waiting for him to get into a more comfortable position. "Stop it with the damn sarcasm, Daryl. For someone who’s always trying to play it cool, you’re really not doing a great job of hiding how much this is bothering you. You do realize that looking weak and needing help are two different things, right? You're far from being weak, and you've done much more for this group than you can probably imagine, even if you're doubting yourself and telling yourself that it's all bullshit in the end." You told him and then continued, putting on the final bandage. "But it's not. And right now, you need to let yourself be looked after, and you need to give us the chance to care about you. Even if it's only for once."

There was a moment of silence, and for a second he looked at you only to look away again, clearly struggling with giving you an honest answer about what he thinks.

You took a deep breath. "Alright, I’m done with the bandages. How about a quick check of your other injuries?"

Daryl nodded quickly, but you could see he was starting to relax a bit. "Yeah, fine. Jus'… make it quick, will ya? Ain't got no time for this bullshit."

You smiled and began checking his other wounds. "So, what’s your actual excuse for not telling us what has happened?"

"Ain't worth tellin’. Jus' 'nother day of me bein’ stupid," he grumbled back as an answer.

Soon enough, you finished checking his other wounds and stood up, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Well, now that I’ve made sure you’re all patched up, try to get some rest. We’re all counting on you to be back on your feet soon; don't forget that."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I’ll try to stay outta trouble while bein' tied to this damn bed."

You smiled and began to pack up the antiseptic and unused bandages, putting them back into the small medical kit. "That’s all I ask for. Get some sleep, Daryl. You know you need it. Something to eat will be ready soon."

As you put away the last of the bandages, you noticed how tense Daryl seemed to be. So you decided to take an extra moment to help him relax, thinking how a little extra care couldn’t hurt.

Your fingers soon massaged his side as you sat down once more, careful not to touch the wound. It was meant to ease the tense muscles around it a bit, but as your hands moved over his skin, you felt that he seemed to react differently when he gasped slightly.

"Ya really don’t have to," he started, but he stopped talking as you continued, your touch slow and feeling soothing.

You looked up, now looking into his eyes. "Why not? You’re all tense. And it’s not just about the injuries; your whole body’s been through a lot. A little extra care might help. There's nothing wrong with it."

He grunted, trying to remain tough, but his breathing grew heavier, betraying his growing discomfort, and you noticed how his body responded to your touch—a reaction he was clearly trying to hide.

His cock began to harden under the sheets. The outline of it was becoming more pronounced, and you could see the rise of the sheets with each breath he took.

You tried to ignore the current awkwardness of the situation, but it was impossible not to notice, and even more impossible not to look at it. Your fingers stopped, and you hesitated momentarily before continuing to massage his side, with Daryl’s eyes squeezed shut and another groan escaping his lips.

"Ugh... Daryl?" You asked quietly, your voice full of curiosity as you realized what was happening. "Are you… okay?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head away from you. "Yeah, jus', jus' let it be. Shit, jus' stop!"

But you couldn’t ignore the evident hardening beneath the sheets anymore. As you moved slightly in your seat to get a little bit closer to him, your hand accidentally brushed against his cock, and Daryl’s reaction was immediate—he sucked in a breath, his body tensing even more.

"Ain’t needin’ ya to… to be all handsy now, goddamn it!" Daryl's voice was trembling, his body shaking a bit, and his muscles straining, even as you didn't continue to massage him. But the sudden power you had over him was intoxicating, and you decided to take your chance and act on it.

You reached down and carefully pulled back the sheets covering his lower body. Daryl’s breathing hitched as you exposed him, and his cock was already hard, pushing against his pants. You could see it clearly now, the visible outline of it.

You smirked at him as you pulled the waistband of his pants down, just enough to pull his cock out and free it from his underwear.

As you pulled it out, Daryl's eyes widened as he watched you handle him. There was no need for words; the look on his face said it all. He felt vulnerable.

You gave him a smile, your hand now wrapped around his throbbing cock. "You look like you're about to lose it, Dixon."

He glared back at you, but there was no real anger in his eyes. "Ain’t fair, ya know…"

You leaned in close to him, your lips touching his ear. "Well, who said life was fair?" Your hand started to move, giving his cock a slow, torturous stroke that had him groaning. "But maybe… if you ask nicely…"

"God… Please," he groaned again, but it was clear he wasn’t used to begging, yet the desperation in his voice was there beyond doubt.

"Good boy," you murmured, and you could see how his eyes slowly closed as he gave in to your touch and words.

You soon picked up the pace, your hand moving faster, his hips bucking into your hand. "Shit, jus' like that," he moaned, his eyes squeezing shut even more tightly.

Fuck… How he wanted it. Your hand working his cock, making him forget about everything that has happened…

You could tell he was close already. His cock twitched in your hand, and the quiet sounds he was making were turning more desperate. "Please," he gasped again. "I… I can’t..."

"Oh? Already, huh?" You teased him, your thumb brushing over the tip of his cock, smearing the pre-cum over it that had gathered there.

You smirked, enjoying the power you had over him. "Do you like this?" You teased him further.

"Yeah, jus' like that…" He panted, his body trembling. "Please... I need ya to touch me more. Can't fuckin' take it..."

"Touch you where, Daryl? Use your words. Be a good boy and tell me exactly what you want."

"My damn dick... please, jus' touch it." You immediately switched your pace back to pump him slowly again, and each stroke of your hand made him shiver, his moans growing a little louder with every touch.

His hips bucked involuntarily, but you kept your rhythm controlled, never speeding up, not letting him get the orgasm he wanted so desperately.

"I thought you were a tough guy. But look at you—so damn needy already. Come on, Daryl," you mumbled. "You’re not done yet. Not until I say so."

He whimpered, trying to thrust into your hand, but you stopped him, keeping him on edge.

"Fuck, please…" He groaned in frustration. "Don’t stop… jus' fuckin' finish me off already!"

You laughed, your grip tightening just enough to torture him a little more. "And why would I do that? You need to learn so much more about patience."

With each stroke, you used different pressure and speed, sometimes going slower just when he thought he was about to finally cum. The feeling was almost unbearable for Daryl, and you could see it in the way his muscles tensed and relaxed again and again, his breathing only coming out in gasps.

"How does it feel, Daryl? Being held on the edge like this?" You asked, looking over at the door to listen if somebody was coming closer.

"Shit, feels so damn good…" He gasped, his voice strained. "I jus' need… I need to… Fuck!"

You smiled, leaning closer to him once more when you were sure that you'd be left alone. "Not yet, tough guy. I want to see just how much you can take."

You continued your teasing, your strokes slow and torturous. "You can take it. I know you can. You want it, don’t you? You want to make me finish you so badly, but you’re going to have to earn it," you whispered.

Daryl could only nod. "Please… Hell, I can't take much more!"

He couldn't take it anymore. The teasing—it was all too much. He wanted to cum. And he needed you to make him cum. Hell, he loved it. Your hand pumping his cock, teasing him, making him groan with need. The way you toyed with him, bringing him so close only to pull back? Shit, he was losing it… And the way your fingers wrapped around his cock, jerking it just right… It was driving him insane.

You simply grinned, feeling excited because of the power you held over him. "But that's good. Because I want you to remember this. Remember how much you wanted it and how much I made you wait."

His eyes were still squeezed shut, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought against the urge to give in.

With that, you continued to edge him, every touch, every stroke keeping him on the brink, pushing him to the limit of his own control.

And the feeling of sliding your hand back and forth along his thick shaft, the way he groaned and moaned quietly, trying to keep himself quiet just for you—it was everything you wanted...

"Fuck, please," he moaned again, his voice now breaking slightly.

His cock was pulsing in your hand and still leaking pre-cum, and you knew this was the moment he might not be able to hold back any longer. And just when he was about to finally stumble over the edge, you stopped pumping him completely, pulling your hand away from his throbbing cock.

Daryl’s eyes flew open in shock, anger, and need. "What the fuck?" He growled, his voice hoarse. "Why’d ya stop?"

You leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Because I wanted to see you beg for it, Daryl. And you’re not quite there yet."

He glared at you in need, his cheeks red, and sweat started to form on his body. "Ya can’t jus' leave me like this! Please!"

"Oh, but I can," you answered with a smirk. "And I will. Unless you really beg for it."

Daryl closed his mouth, and you could see the muscles in his jaw twitching around as he gritted his teeth, his pride and ego fighting with his desperate need. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow.

"Please, please, let me cum," he whispered and finally started to beg and whimper a little more. "Please! I can't take it anymore. Please…"

God... How much he needed you. Desperately. Your hands, your touch, everything about the way you teased and pumped him, the way you handled him… It was like you knew exactly what he wanted and what he needed, and you were giving it to him for free, if only he would beg for it...

You smiled, satisfied with his response. "That’s better. Now, let’s see how much more you can take."

You went back to your teasing, your hand moving slowly over his cock, feeling him twitch and pulse again with every touch. His moans grew a little louder, even more desperate, as you brought him to the edge again and again, only to stop just before he could finally cum.

By the time you finally decided to give him what he needed, Daryl was nothing more than a trembling and pleading mess, his hips bucking toward you again and again, his eyes now looking desperatly at you.

"Fuck, you’re such a good boy, Daryl," you whispered quietly. "Look at you, trying to keep quiet for me, trying to hold back so hard. Taking it like you should… Don't stop looking at me."

You sped up, your movements rough and fast, giving him no time to adjust to the now quick pace. His body was shaking, and you could feel he was more than ready to snap.

"Yeah, you want to cum so bad, don’t you?" You teased. "Go on, Daryl. Cum for me. Show me how much you need it. How much you want it."

With a choked groan, Daryl's body tensed. His orgasm hit him hard, his cock pulsing in your grip as he came all over your hand. You kept pumping him through it, milking every last drop out of him.

"Oh, you really are a good boy, aren't you?" You mumbled. "Let it all out. You did so well for me."

He collapsed back against the bed, completely spent and exhausted, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

You reached for a towel next to the small medical kit, wiping your hand and cleaning up carefully, making sure not to leave any evidence of what had just happened behind, before you looked down at Daryl, a wide smile on your face.

"Fuck," he panted. "That was… fuck..."

"Told you I’d take care of you," you answered him, giving him a wink.

He opened his eyes, looking at you quite exhausted. "Yeah, ya did…"

He didn’t protest as you cleaned him up; he just watched and stared at you with those intense blue eyes, still catching his breath with his mouth slightly open.

"There," you said, as you were finishing everything up. "All cleaned up again."

Daryl didn’t say anything for now, just giving you a small and a little ashamed nod as you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his sweaty face.

"Get some rest now, tough guy," you whispered, pulling back and standing up. "You’re gonna need it. Remember: Be a good boy for me."

"Yeah… I... I..." He grunted in response, unable to even finish his thoughts after hearing your words, which were still making his head spin.

You simply smirked, heading towards the door. "Anytime, Daryl. Anytime."

As you walked out of the room, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied as well. Daryl Dixon might be tough as hell, but in that moment, he was completely and totally yours.

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year ago

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Y/N, giggling: You sneeze like a girl.

Daryl: How ‘bout I pound ya like a boy?

Daryl: …

Daryl: That didn’t come out right.

Y/N: I know what you meant. Your place or mine?

Daryl: Yours.

5K notes · View notes

heathermason6060 · 3 months ago

Text

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

Gif found on Pinterest unknown credit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That simply wouldn't do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give me your hand.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Uh-huh. S'nothin.”

It went on like that for a while.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was no way you could wave him off now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want ya. Right here.”

“Want me to what?”

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

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

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

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

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

But he still hadn't cracked.

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

“Maybe some other time.”

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

There it is.

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

You forced a nod.

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

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

He looked so fed up.

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

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

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

“Don't want you to beg.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He withdrew his finger and you whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ew!” You gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-you said you had condoms.”

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

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

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

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

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

You didn't. Not one bit.

“But I know ya'aint.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thought I was gonna regret it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Get up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Point stands.”

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

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

He yanked your head to the side. You gasped.

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

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

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

“More.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was barely a love tap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The house had to be surrounded by walkers by now. There was no way it wasn't, you were crying and moaning like you were getting paid for it.

“Oh, god.” You wailed as another orgasm built up quicker than ever inside you. “Oh please, fuck, god!”

A jolt of pleasure shot through your core when Daryl's hands wrapped around your throat.

Now, Daryl was no stranger to strangling someone. He'd choked plenty of people out before.

In fights.

He was unaware there was a different type of choking for pleasure. Instead of squeezing the sides of your throat with his thumb and fingers, he wrapped both hands around your neck and fucking strangled you.

You squeezed your eyes shut so tight they ached as you came. Your orgasm had started off blinding, overwhelming every inch of your body, but Daryl's crushing grip soon muted the tail end of your climax and filled your ears with a deafening ringing.

Daryl pulled his teeth off your nipple and panted against your ear. “Lemme cum inside ya’, sweetheart.”

You could barely process what he'd said. You forced your eyes open against the pressure induced burn, trying to find his face, only to see the side of his head.

“Can't pull out.” He growled and released some of the pressure around your throat. Oxygen and blood flooded your head, leaving you dizzy and with black around the edges of your vision.

“Can't, m'sorry. Oh, huh- fuck!” His voice was strained as every muscle in his body tensed up. His hips surged forward, stuffing his dick balls deep to coat the end of your walls in his cum. “Mmm-fuck s’good. So good. Ohhh, Hah-”

He choked on his moan. He moved his head, replacing his hands around your neck with his mouth, kissing and biting at the tender skin as he spurted ropes of hot cum inside you.

Your body broiled under his crushing form. Your thighs relaxed from their clamped position, falling off his waist and dropping to the bed beneath you. Your lungs ached and your throat was raw, but your pussy buzzed so intently it felt like you had a vibrator pressed against it.

“Oh, god.” The tone was full of dread and you forced yourself to focus on Daryl.

“What?” You croaked. There was a stabbing pain in your neck from Daryl choking you out like you were a man his size.

“Yer all fucked up.” He whined. He traced his fingers across your throat. “S’bad. Oh fuck.”

“Calm down.” You sat upright after he pulled back enough for you to do so, his dick dragging out against your trembling walls in the process and making you hiss.

“It's okay. I'll just tell em a walker got the jump on me. We've all seen them grab throats. It's fine.” You pressed a kiss to his worried lips.

“Gonna tell em a walker did that too?” He pointed an exhausted finger at the bite mark on your shoulder, which was now in the early stages of a deep bruise, not to mention the blood blister in the shape of his teeth.

You laughed softly. “Fuck no. I'll just skip the tank tops for a week or two.”

That seemed to settle him enough and he nodded, moving to lay on his back.

“That was amazing.” You broke the long silence. “Seriously. You're the first man to ever… you know.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at you. “Huh? Y’never…?”

“No! I mean…” you sighed. “Never had a man make me come.”

Now he was at full attention, sitting upright and leaning back on his palms. “Nah, no shit.”

“I'm serious.”

He let out a light scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched you climb off the bed to grab your thrown panties. “Me too.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you stepped into them. “Really? You never…?”

He nodded, going back to biting his cheek.

“How'd you last so fucking long?”

A cocky grin crept across his lips at the compliment behind your words. He was worried he didn't last long enough. And you just asked him how he held on so long.

“Jerked off like, ten fuckin’ times today.”

That meant he knew he was going to fuck you today. Heat spread through your core again, despite how worn out you were. You smiled and climbed back on the bed to smother him with kisses.

“You're so fucking hot.” You mumbled against his lips, which were moving weakly against your own.

“Says the bitch that wouldn't fuck me.” He chuckled.

“Just wanted you to make the decision for me. It's a lot hotter that way.” You hummed, pulling your swollen lips away from his. “It worked.”

“Psh.” He rolled his eyes and began stuffing his soft cock back in his jeans. “Put yer clothes on. Place is probably crawlin' with walkers. Le’s get the hell outta dodge before anymore show up.”

Now that Daryl was in on your little game, you couldn't wait to play again.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

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