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magia-nera · 4 months ago

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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

#fic rec <3 #okay so i know i usually don’t reblog smut #but this was genuinely amazing #the writing is so good #twd daryl #daryl dixon #rick grimes #twd rick

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magia-nera · 4 months ago

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18+ ━━━ BLACKSMITH!DARYL DIXON and reassurance / or, he wants to make sure you’re aware of how you deserve to be treated, even with his doubts

he knew of whom you were talking of when you prefaced your opening the door with an apology if there were a few items astray, dishes and porcelain or glass.

you invited him into your home, just a simple ushering in when the two of you crossed paths on your way. he noticed his work across the grounds; that was really the reason you offered him to come inside, to assess how the place was shaping up, to poke and prod at his modesty when you spoke of them as you passed: there were the paintings hung, there was the doorknob shiny and new to your room of rest. his teeth dug into his bottom lip, blood flushing a ripe red to the cartilage shaped by jagged brunette; the air was cooler than the dizzying heat a few steps prior, though not by a great degree.

he asked if you enjoyed yourself; you admitted in a short breath that you were rather nervous. you had met him a few times before, and he seemed an alright man. a part of you wondered, however, if—no, rather, when—the tips of his fingers would linger longer after an embrace, possibly trace to your hips, his eyes leading a distracted path to the skin of your sternum, no matter the clothing covering it. it seemed he was eager to do so sooner than later.

you did not tell him the latter. regardless, he was good at reading through your response, a foreword in a low clearing of his throat. “ya deserve to be treated nice.”

weeks passed by. you came into the shop with a registerable shift in your figure, later than your usual hours. you placed a few ‘nails for a new painting’ onto the countertop; his eyes watched as your own drifted aimlessly about the products, drenched in an industrial, metallic grit with the sun gone, not meeting the curiosity melded in blue that wondered what made your posture so taut, tense.

he offered to take you home.

sitting across from one another in lazy candlelight, his glass half-full and yours half-empty, he offered to help put you at ease before he could retract the words at their entendre. you didn’t mind, if your leaning closer and nod of your head was any discourse to say otherwise.

then his chest was to your back. his hands were at the opening of your legs, one merely dragging slow along the skin of your thigh. his lips brushed along the nape of your neck, words muttered under his breath onto the skin there—“feels good?”—just barely heard from his tongue as your chest began to heave up and down, up, down.

though you felt his lips against your skin and the fabric shifted slightly from it, he did not kiss you, any part of you. that would be a seal; he was never good with what came from them, couldn’t put something he deemed ‘less than’ upon you. he knew his hands were what worked best, not a doting line from his head to his mouth, so why would he possibly rely on another part of his person? and there was a part in his mind that, despite what was uttered from a place quite the contrary as his hands wandered, phrases asking if you liked what he was doing (to which he was given breathless confirmation to), he was just not what you deserved. a kiss would surely force his mind into an overwhelming whirl. he thought of it as some form of a promise, which he did not believe could fulfill a standard you suited. he made objects for purchase, a come-and-go that mirrored him.

though he didn’t pry about the man who had also stepped foot into your home, he thought he was not something you wanted, just someone of acquaintance, of mundanity.

even still, here was another thing in your home to remember him by.

#fic rec <3 #this was like actual poetry #daryl dixon #twd daryl

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magia-nera · 4 months ago

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I hadn't seen it in the fandom yet, so I had to take matters into my own hands.

#AT THE SAME DAMN TIME #daryl dixon #rick grimes #twd

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magia-nera · 4 months ago

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#he’s so cute #it makes me wanna cry #and rip my hair out #i’m so normal abt him #norman reedus

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magia-nera · 4 months ago

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thank you everybody for the love you're giving the fic, i couldn't be more grateful <333

all wound up

── daryl dixon x fem!reader

summary: after barely escaping the outbreak, you find shelter outside of atlanta, with a group of survivors. someone catches your eye, but you don’t dare getting close.

era: season 1, at the quarry

warnings: not yet proofread!!! mentions of blood, curse words, lowkey mutual pining but more on reader’s side, implied age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and daryl’s age is canon to season 1 so late 30s-early 40s), daryl is possibly a bit ooc i hope not

word count: 2.7k

a/n: not my best work, but i just wanted to post something for daryl, i have like a ton of other ideas planned for him anyway :)

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

When the outbreak started your life did a complete 180. You were alone, away from your family, in a city you never knew while growing up, trying to navigate through life and adulthood and their ups and downs all on your own.

Every now and then you still thought about the night when the anchorman on the TV talked about this new virus spreading rapidly throughout the whole country, you remembered your ears perking up and the dinner on the stovetop being forgotten, all your attention was on the man’s words. You got scared, you thought ‘what the hell am I going to do?’, you thought about your mom and your siblings and hoped they were okay, you thought about your friend Amy and made the split second decision to head to her house. It ended up being the right thing to do, seeing as now you were sitting safe and sound in a camp on the outskirts of Atlanta, with other survivors, helping each other. Amy’s sister, Andrea, was home when the news broke out and you managed to escape with them, unscathed. The days you spent on your own made you tougher, the world you knew was long forgotten and you didn’t want to be a burden to the two sisters.

You never considered yourself weak before the outbreak – you never thought about this kind of stuff anyway, there was no point, right? But the situation unfolding required you to toughen up, so that’s what you did, what you tried doing. You helped the women with tasks at camp at first, like washing clothes and cooking for everyone, but eventually you were picked to go on runs, seeing as you were one of the few young adults in the camp. You were scared at first. Looking closely at what the men in the group did, you learnt a thing or two: you wanted to be able to survive, protect the others even. Andrea, whose presence made things easier for you, was also tasked with going on runs sometimes and you never left her side on those occasions.

There was one man in particular that caught your attention though.

Daryl couldn’t be more different from you. He was a redneck, a hunter and expert bowman, kept to himself, but wasn’t scared to speak his mind, get confrontational, even if it meant being hated. It all started as simple admiration, you strived to be worthy like him. You didn’t understand why everybody in the group barely tolerated him: sure, he could be somewhat hostile sometimes, but you could easily see the heart of gold hiding underneath the aggressive facade. He always shared the preys he hunted and he was skilled at shooting down walkers with his crossbow, defending the group on multiple occasions.

One day, while out on a run and paired together, you got swarmed by a herd. Daryl led you through endless alleys and helped you jump fences till you got to safety.

“T’was close,” he huffed, sweat beading on his forehead. You took one good look at him while he was distracted checking the surroundings: you shouldn’t have. That was the moment you noticed just how attractive he actually was, his arms were strong, his muscles flexed as he reloaded the crossbow with ease, the dust collecting on his dark shirt contrasted with his glistening skin. His scruffy look was charming. And after that day you never stopped stealing glances at him.

Your eyes found him with ease every night around the campfire, glancing at him in the dim light of the ambers, the orange hues made his features look somewhat softer. You wondered why he still wore that jackass sleeveless shirt even in the chilly October night breeze. Not that you minded.

Whenever he came back from runs on his motorcycle he looked almost like a god, the sun made his skin shine like gold, his hair tangled from the wind. His hands held the handlebar with ease, his biceps flexed when the bike came to a halt, you were mesmerised when he effortlessly slung his crossbow on one shoulder and the supply bag on the other.

Your heart jumped when, on the few occasions you did laundry, your hands found his bloodstained shirts, soaked with the smell of freshly turned earth, gasoline from his bike and cigarette smoke. You played with the fraying hem, thinking about him. Thinking about his skilled hands, the ease with which he skinned the preys he caught, the thrilled glint in his eyes after escaping walkers, how calm he looked when he was aiming his crossbow, the curve of his lips when he let a smug grin take over after getting a kill.

You never dared getting close. It wasn’t hard to understand that Daryl didn’t like people. He always kept to himself, interacting only with his older brother Merle, sometimes fighting, his tent sat distant from the rest of the group. Even when you were on runs, he barely talked, and it was only about the task at hand. It wasn’t too bad most days, but sometimes it became excruciating. But then again, Daryl was almost never at camp, always out hunting: you wouldn’t even have the time to make a move on him.

You always kept your distance, watching him attentively from afar, being careful of not getting caught. Was it twisted to want to be caught, hoping he’d take the hint and make the first move? You didn’t want to approach him first, sure that he would reject you. So watching him was the only thing you could do.

It got to the point that, whenever you got paired with Daryl to go on runs and you tried talking more, your nerves got the best of you. It was a bad habit of yours, hiding nervousness with rude remarks. You could only spit out mean words when you talked. In some sick way, you thought that riling him up would at least make him pay attention to you, which was better than being ignored while staring at him from afar.

You would bicker constantly, he would chew you out when you couldn’t fight off walkers all on your own, yet you would notice his gaze lowering from your eyes to your chest, barely covered by the lowest cut tank top you could find that day, that you purposely wore to hopefully get some reaction from him.

One time you were fiddling with some loose bullets shells, lying on the counter of a shoddy convenience store, while waiting for Daryl to break the lock that sealed the entrance to the warehouse.

“Can you just hurry up?” you whined.

“Come do it yerself if ya want it done so badly then,” he snarled back. “Don’t fuckin’ piss me off already.”

You groaned, deciding to leave it alone while mentally cursing yourself for even bringing it up. What reaction were you even expecting? He was right to be angry anyway, you were probably annoying him on top of being unhelpful.

Lost in thought, you almost didn’t even hear the loud clang that some cans made when you accidentally hit them.

“Could ya be any more stupid? Ya wanna attract a herd here or what?”

“Just shut the fuck up, it was an accident,” you bit your tongue.

The tension eased when you finally got into the warehouse and picked up enough supplies to last a week, you even managed to kill off a couple of walkers all by yourself. You secretly hoped that Daryl saw that, you wished he was impressed by your skills, but he said nothing about it. That day you left with a couple more purple hued bruises and a chest heavy with unease.

Daryl did see that though. He didn’t tell you but he thought you looked pretty damn hot too, sweaty from the Georgia heat, expertly stabbing them with your knife, without hesitation. He swears he doesn’t, but he steals glances at you from time to time. More often than he would like to admit. But he can’t help it when you look so pretty doing anything, effortlessly. In his eyes, you’re the coolest chick he’s ever met, always standing your ground, unapologetic and unafraid to speak your mind. Everyday, he wakes up hoping you’ll come to him and have something nice to say, but all he gets is snarky remarks on those rare occasions you’re with him. He starts believing you hate him, which makes things worse when he overhears him defending him from the others.

“He’s always so grumpy, like, okay we get it, you’re a lone wolf or whatever, but at least be nice about it.”

“Shut up, he’s actually kind. Maybe you just don’t deserve it,” your voice is like music to his ears. He actually blushed a little at your acknowledgment. He knew you had good judgment but this still managed to surprise him. He felt a little lighter that day, and the days following, knowing you had his back even if he didn’t ask you to.

He decided that it’s impossible that he likes you. Better yet, you don’t like him for sure, so it’s just better for him to ignore the topic at hand. That’s the only way he can get a wink of sleep at night, otherwise your face just won’t leave his thoughts. So he convinces himself that you hate his guts, and he doesn’t like you either, it’s settled. He can go back to thinking how his hunt will go tomorrow.

Until he finds himself stuck in the backseat of a tiny ass car, with you by his side and walkers snarling all around the vehicle.

It was supposed to be a quick run, scavenging a couple houses he found on his latest hunt, they looked untouched and he thought he could find supplies there. But on that day, a bunch of walkers came storming from out of the woods all around, and with the house still some yards away, your best choice was hopping in the car to come up with a plan.

You brought your knees up in front your face, hands laying on your leather boots, “so what now?”

There was — surprisingly — no irritation in your voice, you sounded more worried than anything.

“We can make a quick exit maybe,” he mumbled, “you try distractin’ ‘em and I shoot ‘em.”

“No, that’s too risky. I probably can’t even make it two inches from here before they get me,” you replied, checking the window on your side. Glancing at you, Daryl got an idea.

“Do ya think we can get them if we lower the windows jus’ a crack?”

“I mean, maybe, I guess we can try. We can roll them up if things get ugly,” you grabbed the handle. Thank God they were manual.

“On my count, ‘kay?” he shoots you a complicit look, before counting down.

The glass was painted crimson from the blood spilling at the hands of your blade. You lurched back when the walkers manage to get their fingers through the crack, feeling Daryl’s leather clothed back flush against your own.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the last walker fell down.

You turned to look at Daryl, his face mere inches from yours.

“We never speak of this again, do ya hear?” he whispered, his bated breath fanning your lips, making your blood rise up to your face. You simply nodded, too shaken by his proximity. You didn’t want him to notice the heartthrob in your voice, nor see the blush that painted your cheeks.

Some rotten wooden fence posts stood between you and the porch. The halls were quiet, except from the persistent creaking of the floorboards beneath your soles.

A few walkers lingered in the living room, but Daryl quickly took care of them. You heard the thumps of bodies hitting the furniture, lamps and other objects falling on the ground and shattering. You rushed to check on him, and your intuition was right, because he was standing there, heavy breaths shaking his shoulders, holding his wrist.

“Are you okay?” you asked, barely whispering.

“Yeah, don’t worr- ouch.”

“Here, let me see,” you extended your hand, signalling him to let you check the extent of his injury.

Your eyes widened when you saw the red gash, vibrant on his skin, “how the fuck did this happen?”

“One of ‘em fuckers had a knife,” Daryl felt his skin burn where your fingers were touching him. Your dainty hand held his arm like it was the most fragile and precious thing in the world. He liked this aspect of you, despite being so strong and fierce, you couldn’t help but be delicate with anything you did.

“Let me patch you up. There must be something here, I’ll check the bathroom,” your nerves were making you shake when you realised your hand was still holding his.

“Nah, I’m okay, don’t need ya to fix anythin’,” he muttered, barely audible over the clanking of pills bottles in the cabinet you were already rummaging through.

“Shut up and just let me take care of you,” you came back with your loot: an half empty bottle of disinfectant and some band-aids. “This is all that was left.”

The swaying of the linen curtains in the breeze was the only background noise enveloping the moment. The disinfectant stung like a bitch and Daryl even flinched a little, which made you chuckle. He could be so childlike sometimes, even in endearing ways, and he probably didn’t even realise.

“Here you go, almost as new,” you asserted proudly, inspecting your pretty decent work. Daryl took a peek at his hand, now covered in probably more band-aids he had ever used in his whole life, “thanks, I guess.”

He stood up, eyes zeroing in on yours.

“It’s okay, you know, to need a little help sometimes,” you mumbled. What the fuck had gotten into you, spitting out sappy crap like that? Get a hold of yourself, damn.

“What the hell are ya sayin’?” yeah, even Daryl was utterly confused now.

“Nothing, it’s just… you’re always on your own, I think you could ask for help sometimes, I’m here if you ever need anything,” your mind was in the gutter, you felt your brain turn into literal mush from how small the distance between you and the man was. His eyes were carefully scanning your face, but you couldn’t hold the eye contact anymore, deciding instead to stare at the room behind him.

“Why d’ya even care?” was he fucking stupid?

“Are you fucking stupid? Do I need a reason to care about a member of my group?” you immediately but your tongue, there you go again with the attitude.

The distance seemed to grow smaller, you could feel the earthy essence emanating from his skin, with a hint of blood underneath. Your eyes fused to his.

“Yer the first one to do so,” his voice was barely a whisper at this point.

“Maybe it’s cause I fucking like you?” fuck. That was the moment you realised you were totally, completely fucked. You didn’t want to confess. For a plethora of reasons, starting with the age gap, which you for sure didn’t mind, but were worried he cared about, and ending with the fact you convinced yourself that he did dislike you. How were you even going to face him after today?

“Forget it,” you scooted back, trying to get away from the awkwardness that permeated the now stuffy room.

“Say that again,” his commanding tone still managed to get you hot and bothered.

“I like you okay? But please just- forget it. Let’s get the job done and head back.”

Broken glass creaked under his soles as he took a step closer to you, eliminating the distance between your bodies. He grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this,” another feathery kiss, before letting go of your fingers, “I thought ya hated me or somethin’.”

“Yeah, I get why you’d think that,” you lowered your head, “still, I can’t believe you didn’t know I liked you, I thought it couldn’t be more obvious.”

“I had my suspicions, just couldn’t believe it, is all,” his voice was soft, joy spilling through, not even trying to hide it, “such a pretty girl like you. Couldn’t wrap my mind ‘round it.”

“Daryl,” you whispered, receiving a hum from him as a response, “can I kiss you?”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl x reader #daryl x you #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl fanfiction #daryl fic #daryl fluff #norman reedus

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