#Twd reader insert

[grudgecollector]

protective daryl is such a Must like

imagine someone’s just threatened you and he stands in front of you with one of his arms back so he can hold your hand. “you don’t talk to her” he’d growl.

after somehow sending them away he’d turn back to you and hold your face and just “you okay?” and a “i’m never gonna let anything happen to ya”

Ol' Coyote | Daryl Dixon x Reader

Tags: Swearing, smoking, protective Daryl, season 2 Daryl, light angst, mentions of past domestic violence

Words: 2.5k

A/N: I'm FERAL over protective Daryl YES GAHD

Something you'll never get from me is a non-southern reader in TWD fics.

I may have made things a little ooc with Shane, possibly just a tad more aggressive than he actually is with people confronting him. But it's for the plot of the fic.

Also I'm not sure if I really like how this turned out, but I think I've just been staring at the words too long. I hope you enjoy it either way <3

Tension was running high on the farm. A nervousness had settled over you in the last few days as you watched Shane. His erratic behavior was becoming unnerving to observe from the outside. His freshly shaved head glistened with sweat as he shook it, watching Lori practically stomp away from him after a heated conversation. 

This was what you were best at. Watching. Every move that was made within your eyesight didn’t go unnoticed, every twitch, every heavy sigh that came from the man. You always had a knack for catching things just before shit hit the fan. That was the only thing you were thankful for when it came to your ex boyfriend. 

The things Brian said and did to you during those four years were permanently ingrained in your mind. Always reminding you to keep your guard up around men who would view you as weak, feeble minded, helpless and in need of saving. Men with the kind of charm that draws you in, making you think they can protect you from the dangers of the world, when in reality they are the biggest threat to you. 

The almost sadistic glint in Shane’s eye. The way he’d suck on his teeth and laugh humorlessly. The way he watched her… It was starting to scare you a little. It wasn’t a fear you held for yourself, but for Lori, a woman tangled in a web that was impossible to escape from. 

It wasn’t hard to admit that you did not feel safe around the man anymore. That feeling started to dissipate after he proposed the idea to give up on the search for Carol’s missing daughter. He was losing his grip. Even more-so after his botched run with Otis. 

“You good?” Daryl asked, nudging his elbow into your side. 

He had something hanging from his fingers, the necklace he had gifted you a week ago. He followed your gaze as he clasped the necklace for you, fingertips guiding along your hairline softly before settling on your shoulder. 

“Yeah…” You replied quietly, turning your head to look at the man beside you, “Is it just me or is he losin’ his damn mind?” 

“Oh it ain’t just you, sweetheart.” He nodded towards Dale who was sitting atop the RV, occasionally glancing over towards Shane. 

The angered man was pacing back and forth, roughly rubbing at his chin. Whatever conversation he and Lori had seemed to have stirred him up pretty bad, you could practically see the smoke rolling off his shoulders. 

“He needs to get his shit together.” You shook your head, crossing your arms, “The way he acts just... Ugh.” 

“You can keep on hoping, but I think he’s lost his marbles a long time ago.” Daryl huffed, hand dropping down to your waist as he brought you a little closer. 

Daryl and you walked back over to his area away from the rest of the camp, your shared tent occasionally rustling under the wind. The fire Daryl built an hour ago was starting to go down, tiny flames licking pathetically towards the sky, failing to build itself back up. 

The sun was starting to set, pink and orange hues blending together with the darkening blue sky. Daryl settled next to you on the grass, his knee brushing against your thigh. 

These were the moments you cherished the most. Calm and peaceful in a world filled with unimaginable horrors. A chance to take a deep breath and forget about your worries for just a short period of time. And you couldn’t ask for anyone better to spend it with. 

Over the last few months you had spent most of your time next to Daryl. At first he didn’t seem too fond of it, occasionally glancing your way with narrowed eyes and a suspicious attitude. Like he was waiting for you to strike, trying to stay a step ahead of your nonexistent plan to rob him blind. 

In reality you just appreciated the quiet. Away from the hustle and bustle that came with such a large group of people. You wanted to keep your distance, especially when it came to the children at the camp, trying your hardest to avoid the gut wrenching feeling that came whenever you looked at Carl. Oh how innocent and naive they were in such a heartless world. 

Eventually Daryl started to warm up to your presence. Allowing you to accompany him on hunts, teaching you the basics of tracking, and how to skin animals properly. It was easy to see through him, see past his rough edges and appreciate the moments where his kindness would shine through momentarily. 

The closeness between the two of you was something you cherished deeply. Knowing that wherever you went, he wouldn’t be far behind. 

It was moments like this that you could momentarily forget the ticking time bomb that slept just a few feet away from you. The very man in question is sitting next to Rick at the group’s shared camping area, laughing almost emotionlessly at something his best friend said. 

“You’re gonna burn a hole into his head if y’keep starin’ like that.” Daryl muttered, smiling a little bit when you halfheartedly glared at him. 

“Shut up.” You grumbled, “I’m gonna head up to the house real quick, gotta use the bathroom.” 

You were quick to stand. Your fingers brushed gently through Daryl’s hair, prompting him to place a hand on the back of your calf. 

The field in front of the house was still muddy from the rain, your boots sinking in just a little with every step you made. The sound of the ground squishing beneath your feet was drowned out by laughter from the camp, Carl, Lori, and Rick huddled together in front of their own fire as they shared a can of corn. 

It made you happy to know that at least one family was able to stay together through all of this. While they may not be perfect, they were still trying to stay intact in such a hectic world, making things as normal as they could be for their child. 

“Sup lovebirds.” You greeted Glenn and Maggie as you walked up the steps to the house. Glenn rolled his eyes and gave you a tight lipped smile. He hadn’t exactly sealed the deal with Maggie just yet, the both of them tiptoeing around each other cautiously. 

“Evenin’.” Maggie smiled, nodding towards you, “Where you headed?” 

“Is it alright if I use y’alls bathroom? I promise I won’t be long.” 

Maggie tilted her head a little, “You always ask and the answers always gonna be the same.” 

You couldn't help but smile a little, “Yeah well, believe it or not my parents did teach me manners. I usually don’t like invadin’ other people’s spaces without askin’ first.” You shrugged, going to grab for the handle of the screen door. “Thanks Maggie.” 

The hinges groaned loudly as you opened it. The Greene’s home was so beautiful, a warm yellow light casting over the neatly kept rooms, picture frames of the occupying family decorated the walls. It was that sense of normalcy you had needed ever since everything started. Something reminding you that not everything had to be so terrible all the time. It made it easy to forget the reality of things. 

You walked into the bathroom and gently shut the door behind you, not bothering to glance at your reflection in the mirror. Scared of what would be staring back at you. 

By the time you opened the door again, you could hear Beth and Patricia talking in the living room. Maggie was sitting next to her sister on the couch now, Glenn must have gone back over to your group for dinner. You figured you should probably do the same thing, cook up those squirrels Daryl and you caught earlier in the morning. 

You walked back outside and unzipped the pocket to your cargo pants, a lucky find at an army supply store. The top of the crumpled red and white box flips open easily, and you pluck a half smoked cigarette out along with your lighter and begin making your trek back towards your camp. 

“Hey.” A voice stops you, Shane standing from one of the rocking chairs on the porch. 

Great…

You brought the orange filter to your lips and flicked open the zippo lighter you stole from Daryl. You didn’t bother to look at the man walking towards you for more than a second, exhaling the smoke from the corner of your mouth as he got closer. 

“Can I help you with somethin’ Shane?” You asked, annoyance present in your tone.

“I don’t know, can you? Cause you seem to be starin’ an awful lot recently.” His broad shoulders rolled back a little as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

“You feelin’ a little paranoid there? Intimidated by someone doing a little people watching?” 

“Don’t patronize me.” He shook his head, stepping closer towards you. 

An anxious feeling started to eat away at your stomach. You never liked when men started to close in on your personal space, even less when it was someone like Shane. The unpredictable and dangerous types. 

“I’d barely call it patronizing.” You shot back with a small shrug.. 

“You got a problem with me or somethin’? With how I’ve been handlin’ things?” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “I mean I got my fair share of issues with a lot of things, man.” He was starting to prick against your nerves, “Like you wanting to call off the search for Sophia? That was pretty fucked up.” 

“Not this shit again.” He shook his head, hands going to rest on his hips, “It’s bad enough I got to hear it from everyone else in the camp. Now I gotta hear it from the girl who’s too good to even grace us with her presence.” 

“Oh boo fucking hoo. Why is that such a big deal to you? Can’t someone just enjoy some alone time?” You scoffed, flicking off the flimsy ashes from your cigarette.

“Ain’t no such thing as alone time anymore. You gotta start contributing more to the group.” 

“Or what? You gonna boot my ass to the curb and call it a day? Seems like the kinda route you’ve been lovin’ lately.” You almost spat, an accusatory tone to your voice, “I’ve contributed plenty of my time to the group, helping Daryl with hunts and runs, making sure your bellies are full. I help wash clothes in the morning, I do daily perimeter checks with Glenn. Ain’t that enough for you?” You stepped a little closer this time, lowering your voice to harshly say, “Cause if you’re implying anything more, I ain’t doing personal tent calls like some street whore.” 

“You better watch your mouth.” His eyes were starting to get that wild look again, twitching a little when you smiled bitterly at him. 

“Did you hit your head or somethin’ when you went on that run with Otis? Is that what’s got you so fucked up? Some traumatic brain injury or some shit?” 

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, little girl? Cause I know it ain’t me.” He sized you up, chest puffed out as he got closer, but you stayed firmly planted, not allowing him to intimidate you. 

Not this time.  

“You’re fuckin’ losing it Shane, sure there ain’t many in the group that pick up on it but I sure do.” You shook your head, “All I’m sayin’ is you need to take a step back before you get someone else killed.” 

Clearly your wording made something snap within Shane. That littlest bit of self control he had disappeared, and suddenly his hands were clutching onto your biceps, blunt fingernails digging through the fabric of your shirt. 

“I ain’t getting anyone killed,” He growled out, “I keep this place safe, me. Not you, not Rick, or Daryl, Dale, none of you. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, girl, you’re barely smarter than a bag of fucking rocks. All talk and no bite.” His words punched into your harshly, he was practically snarling in your face as he got closer and closer. Your eyes were wide, fear striking through your heart as you stared at him. “Got any other smartass remarks, huh?” 

“Get your fuckin’ hands off of me, man!” You thrashed in his hold, quick to bring your still lit cigarette up and pressing it against his forearm. 

He flinched away, letting you go, and for a split second you almost thought he was about to rear back and slap you. He had that same exact look in his eyes your ex would get. 

Dangerous and unpredictable.

“Hey!” You heard an angered voice growl from behind you. 

Suddenly you felt hands on you again, making you flinch. But the hold was gentle, guiding you as Daryl stepped in front of you, his shoulders heaved with each heavy breath, clearly having run over to you as quickly as he possibly could. 

“The hell you think you’re doin’, huh?! Puttin’ your hands on her like that!” He was seething, but his hand was gentle as it held onto yours, squeezing softly as a way to reassure you. “You don’t fuckin’ talk to her, y’hear me?” He growled out threateningly, his hand resting on the knife secured to his belt, ready to strike at any second. “Don’t let me catch you near her again, asshole, or it’ll be hell to pay. I promise you that.” He glared at Shane, quickly turning around and guiding you past the group’s camp. 

“What the hell is going on? What’s with all the shouting?” Rick asked, catching up to the two of you. 

“Y’better get your fuckin’ boy, Rick. Ask him to explain the situation t’you.” Daryl spat, not giving him time to reply. 

You sat back down in front of the fire, staring at the yellow flames blankly. Never did you think Shane would put his hands on you like that, but the way he had talked to you, looked at you. It was too familiar, as if you were standing in front of the direct reincarnation of a man you fought so hard to forget. 

Daryl’s hands gently held your trembling ones. His index finger and thumb came up to your chin and pushed your head up so he could look into your dewy eyes. His fingers caressed your cheek, he knew that look on your face all too well, having seen it in the mirror plenty of times. 

“He ever tries anything like that again, he’s a dead man.” He stated firmly.

“I thought he was gonna hit me.” You said weakly, you hated how pathetic your voice sounded.

“I ain’t ever gonna let anything happen t’you. Not while I’m still breathing.” 

The promise would be a difficult one to fulfill, you both knew that. But the words still held weight, settling deep within your heart. You would be safe with him, you knew that.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

reader pronouns: she/her

Lydia watched Negan's expression, the sparkle in his eyes as they flickered over your face as you said goodbye. They followed your figure until you disappeared into a building down the street. "Wow. You like her," she said with a laugh. "A lot," she emphasized.

Negan pulled his ball cap off and rubbed a hand over his hair, sighing. There was an almost abashed expression on his face. "Yeah... I look at her and I just—I can't fuckin' help it—it's like when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes," he said.

Lydia gave him a strange look. "What's the Grinch?" she asked.

"Ah. Right... Uhh... Well," Negan tipped his head thoughtfully. "It's this character from a kid's book back in the day. He's an angry, mean-tempered asshole."

Lydia snorted. "Oh, that is like you."

Negan shot her a half-serious glare. "Don't you have some zombie to go hit with a stick or something?" Lydia grinned at him. "Anyway, he's a real dickbag at first but through kindness and a little whimsical Christmas magic and really irritating singing he learns to love again. Heart grows three sizes. And he becomes less of asshole and does what he can to make amends," he finished. Fuck, that was an even more appropriate comparison than he'd first realized. His eyes drifted back to where your fingers had brushed his as you'd handed him that shiny red apple. They still seemed to tingle slightly.

"Negan," Lydia said, her brow furrowing.

"Hmm?" he hummed, taking a bite and savoring the crisp sweetness.

"Are—are you in love with her?" Lydia asked, surprised, but smiling vaguely.

He looked suddenly uncomfortable, and a bit shocked, as if the idea hadn't occurred to him before. Shit. "Fuck," he murmured. "I might be, kiddo. I might be..."

Prompt: "I look at her and I just—I can't help it—it's like when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes."

[thefreakydeaky]

After the Thrill is Gone

Part Fifteen

Negan Smith x Reader

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Modern AU

Summary: From the first moment you laid eyes on Negan you were inexplicabley drawn to him. The passion between you is hot and only grows more intense the longer you see each other. There is only one problem, you're both married to other people.

Warnings: Dark Fic , Rape/Noncon, Violence, Stalking, Stalker behavior, Smuttyness, Adult Language...

You chewed on another antiacid tablet as you pulled up into the parking lot at Hunter's school. To your surprise, you received a call that morning from the Principal, Father Moser about some behavorial issues that Hunter had been having. You could not believe this was happening. Hunter was your good kid. He was a rule follower, who thrived in a structured environment. Hunter was the kid that called people sir and mam without having to be reminded to. He was the kid that helped you around the house because he simply enjoyed being helpful. You couldn't imagine what he could be doing that was bad enough to have the principal ask you to come in for a meeting. Daryl arrived nearly at the same time you did, parking his old suburban next to your midsize suv. You got out of the car. Daryl got Millie out of her car seat and the three of you headed up to the front office.

"Any idea what this is about?" He asked you as you sat waiting on a bench outside the primary office.

You shook your head.

"I don't have the slightest idea. He's been acting normal."

Daryl nodded.

"Yeah, I think so too."

"Mister and Misses Dixon." The old man's voice, held warmth in it as he greeted you. "Just the people I needed to see."

You smiled.

"Hello, Father."

Daryl shook his hand.

"Father, I just don't understand. What kind of trouble is Hunter in?"

"Why don't we talk inside my office?" Father Moser suggested. He gestured toward the big shining maple wood door.

Your husband let you be the one to go further into the office and sit in the seat closest to the window. Daryl, still holding Millie sat in the seat on your right side. Father Moser closed the door to his office. You frowned. That was a bad sign.

He went and sat on the otherside of the big expensive looking desk. He looked at you for a moment and then at Daryl. You felt he was measuring your emotional and mental state.

"There is no easy way to say this." He said folding his hands in front of him. "Hunter has gained a new vocabulary as of late. One that has piqued the interest of our other students and started a chain reaction of sorts."

Daryl's brow furrowed.

"One word in particular, the F word seems to be his favorite."

Your face heated with embarrassment.

"Father, are you sayin' that Hunter is cursin'?"

The priest nodded.

"Yes. Yes, he is and we have received complaints that other students are learning those words from him and adding them to their own vocabularies."

"Complaints? From other parents?" You asked ashamed.

"Yes, angry parents. Understandabley so."

"We are so sorry, Father. We make a point not to use that type of language. I don't know where he's learning it from, but I will find out and I will have a talk with him." Daryl replied.

"We are going to have to use a punishment to correct this behavior. Please explain to him that his suspension is a consequence of the new words he is using to express himself. We'll be happy to have him back, when he has learned not to use them on school grounds."

You nodded.

"We will talk with him." Daryl assured him.

"I am glad to hear it." He took in your expression. "Please, don't be too hard on yourselves. Hunter is a bright boy. He works hard and does well. In any case, this isn't the first time such a thing has ocurred at our school and I'm sure it won't be the last." He said good naturedly.

You smiled politely.

"Thank you, Father." Daryl said and got up and shook his hand.

You shook the priests hand and left the office right behind Daryl. You found Hunter sitting on the bench beside the front office.

"We have got a lot to talk about young man." Daryl told him.

Hunter frowned.

"You're taking me home?"

"You've been suspended." You told him.

His eyes widened.

"For what?" He asked as you walked back to the car.

"For cursing." Daryl replied.

Hunter frowned.

When you got Millie and Hunter situated in the car, Daryl shut the door to the backseat.

"I know it's you." Daryl accused, once you were alone in the parking lot.

You raised an eyebrow.

"Me?" You asked confused.

"Where he's learned that language from. It's you.

"Why would you think that?" You scoffed.

"Because, Millie learned a new word too and if it ain't me teaching them then it's you."

You couldn't help, but wince when he mentioned Millie cursing.

"I may have accidentally said one word in front of Millie. It was one time and she latched onto it. I'm sorry, but I swear it was just the one time."

Daryl shook his head.

"We'll talk about it later." He gave you a disappointed look.

You watched him get into his suburban before you got into your own car. You couldn't believe he was so upset with you. It wasn't as though you cursed in front of your children all the time. You didn't even know where Hunter could have heard that kind of language except for Millie. You sighed as you got into your car.

•••••••

"You been suspended, because you're using words you're not supposed to use." Daryl explained to his son.

Hunter ducked his head.

"What words?" He asked.

"You know which words." You said sternly.

"But Mom says them."

"Mom's not supposed to say 'em either." Daryl shot you a disapproving look. "Hunter, you can't speak that way. Not in this house and not at school."

Hunter frowned.

"But why?"

"Because it is disrespectful and not polite." You explained.

"Then why do you say them?"

"I'm not supposed to say them. It is just as bad when I do it as when you do it."

"Mom is not gonna say those words no more. Alright? And neither are you."

Hunter seemed to think about it for a second.

"What about Millie?"

"We need your help to teach Millie not to say those words either."

Hunter nodded.

"Okay. I can help."

"Alright, Thank you , Son." Daryl took away his hand held gaming device for the two days that Hunter was suspended. Hunter found this to be an awful punishment, but his respect for his father and desire to be well behaved left him no choice, but to comply.

When you laid down under your covers that night, Daryl turned to face you.

"Hunter said he heard you cursing. I'd get it if it was one slip up, but it didn't sound that way."

You turned onto your side.

"I'm sorry. I'll work on it."

You lay there in the quiet for a moment.

"What were you cursing about?"

You swallowed nervously.

"Telemarketers. They won't stop calling."

Daryl stared at you in the dark.

"Is it telemarketers or is it Him?"

You fought to keep your expression neutral.

"Uh, who?"

"Don't do that." He said your name. His tone held a note of pleading.

"Let's be honest for once.I know you're cheatin' on me."

You couldn't even react. You were in shock.

"I...I was, but I ended it. I tried to end it."

"For how long?" His voice was pained.

You took a breath.

"Four years."

"Years?"

"Yes.

"What do you mean? You tried to end it?"

"I don't know how to get rid of him. He won't leave me alone."

"Yeah, well, after four years I'm sure he had a hard time believin' you actually wanted to end it. If you really did."

"I did! I do!"

"You know, when Rick suggested I look through your phone, I was against it, but when I found out you were leavin' the kids with your Mom or with Ma a lot, more often than you ever told me about, I started to wonder where you were goin' that you couldn't take the kids with you."

"You, looked through my phone?"

Daryl sighed.

"I let Rick track your location. He told me you kept goin' to the motel off the highway. That's when I knew. I started thinkin' about what was missin' in our relationship that you went out lookin' for it somewhere else."

"That's when you told me you wanted to work on our relationship?"

He nodded.

"But even though you agreed, you kept goin' back to the motel.So, I followed you."

Your eyes widened.

"You followed me?"

"Yeah. A few months back I was out of my mind angry. I wanted to...to kill the bastard."

"Daryl!"

"I love you and it just fuckin' hurt so much."

You wanted to reach out and touch him, but you knew it wouldn't bring him comfort. You clenched your hands into fists.

"I had my gun sittin' on the seat next to me. I was just waitin' for you to leave. So, I could get him alone."

"Oh, God."

Your eyes filled with tears.

"But you came out of there before I was expectin' ya to and you had this look on your face. I got a feelin' that it was over. That someone had ended it. I just didn't know if the decision was yours or his. That snapped me out of it. I went to talk to Rick. Let him talk me down some. Then I drove around for a while to clear my head."

Tears started spilling down your cheeks.

"I watched you for signs that it was really over and I believed it was. Until Rick told me that you went to the motel again."

You shook your head.

"To talk. To convince him to leave me alone." You lied. If Daryl had been about to shoot Negan for the affair you shuddered to think of what he would do if you told him about that day, about what Negan had done to you.

"To talk? Why in a motel room?"

"I thought I was being descrete. More than anything, I wanted to keep you and the kids out of it and if I met him somewhere public, I didn't feel that would be protecting you."

"You said, you been seein' him for four years. What about Millie?" He asked nervously.

"I don't know." You wiped at the tears on your face, annoyed with yourself. "We would have to, get a paternity test."

Daryl swallowed.

"I need to know."

You nodded in understanding.

[ohstardustgirl]

No Choice At All pt 2 - Daryl Dixon x Reader

Part one is here 

TW: touching/kissing without consent

 After a few more threats to Daryl's wellbeing, you gave in and told Negan that yes, you would be his wife. There was no ceremony and no white dress or ring, and that was the only silver lining. That night you were moved into the wive's quarters with the rest of the harem. They were all friendly enough, though some were more sympathetic than others. Sherry especially didn’t have anything good to say about the situation, meanwhile the rest of the girls could only encourage you to look on the bright side - ‘at least you get to shower and eat now, and all it takes is sleeping with a hot guy every now and then’.

The thought made you sick to your stomach. You knew that consummating the marriage would be inevitable, and Negan didn’t seem to be in any rush to end your miserable wait. Your agreement to the marriage had bought Daryl a few days of safety – ‘bed and board instead of a stinking cupboard’ as Negan had put it. That was the thought that kept you sane when you tossed and turned at night.

But now a few days later, you had been summoned. The other wives had helped you scrub up and pick out a little black dress. It felt like some strange culture where the womenfolk prepared a young maiden for sacrifice to the gods for another year of good crops. 

They told you everything Negan liked and what to expect, in excruciating detail. When you saw yourself in the mirror after the other wives had finished dressing and primping you, you ran straight to the bathroom to throw up. Every cell in your body screamed at you to run, but while you were still on your knees in front of the toilet, Dwight showed up at the door and Amber knocked softly and opened the bathroom door to tell you to come out. You brushed your teeth and looked at the ghost in the mirror.

You closed your eyes and thought of Daryl and the first night you spent together, not long after the group had landed in Alexandria. Hot showers and a warm soft bed, and a big step forward in your relationship. You could just pretend it was him touching you, right? 

You had to, for his sake.

Dwight led you to Negan’s rooms. They were dark, opulent, a poor man’s idea of how he thought the rich would live. You had never been one to be impressed by possessions, even before the world ended. Nowadays it took good survival skills and a great aim to even turn your head. 

Negan did his best to be charming to a sickening degree. He plied you with food you couldn’t quite swallow and wine that made your throat burn, and even the alcohol wasn’t enough to numb your fears. He tried to make conversation, and you answered in a quiet voice. It wasn’t like you. You were no mouse, never had been. You really did try to smile at his jokes and nod your head but your heart wasn’t in it, and your mind was focused on the bed you could see in the other room. 

You pushed your food around your plate for as long as you could after Negan had finished eating, but it only worked for a while. He grabbed your hand and led you into the bedroom, and sat beside you on the edge of the bed. You curled your fingers into the silk sheets hard enough to almost tear them.

When Negan’s hands landed on your bare thigh, your blood ran cold and you stiffened. You almost gagged when he kissed you. Nothing you did could stop your muscles from seizing with every touch and kiss. You tried to think of Daryl and imagine it was him but it was all too wrong - Negan’s strong aftershave and the taste of wine on his tongue were overpowering, and his hands just weren’t the same.

After one final flinch when Negan kissed your neck, he snapped and jumped to his feet. He crossed the room and ran his hand through his slicked back hair and punched a hole in the wall.

 “You think this is what I get off on?” He snarled. “Resistance?”

“I’m trying,” you growled. “You think this is easy for me?”

“Try harder,” he spat. “You owe me, y/n. Daryl’s safe tonight but if you don’t play nice he’s not gonna stay that way.”

“You think that helps? More pressure? I don’t want to be your wife and I don’t want you to touch me. I’m only here because it’s the only way I can keep him safe.” You stood up and pulled at your hair and screamed at him.  “What fucking choice do I have, really?”

“The same choice as everyone else,” he stomped forward into your personal space and snarled.

“Like those other wives of yours?” You spat at him, not intimidated. “The ones who make fun of you, or the ones that cry themselves to sleep at night?”

Negan’s face grew red and he grabbed your wrist and pulled you from his room, out to where Simon stood guard.

“Simon, call downstairs. We’re takin’ a trip,” he said as he pulled you along and then turned to you with a wicked grin. “To see your lover-boy.”

You stumbled along as you tried to keep up with Negan’s long, angry strides and your wrist burned in his tight grip. Saviours of all levels bowed as he passed and dragged you down the stairs until you reached the ground floor where the ‘help’ lived. Dwight was already there with Daryl, and two goons held his arms behind his back. He was still dressed in that awful filthy grey tracksuit and one of his eyes was black. 

Negan shoved you in front of himself and grabbed both of your upper arms so that you were held in the same position as Daryl. His blue eyes met yours and you couldn’t help but burst into tears but you tried to hold it back for him.

“Darlin’,” Negan purred in your ear, “Why don’t you tell Daryl why he’s about to get the shit knocked out of him?”

Your tears stuck in your throat and you couldn’t speak. Negan nodded to Simon, and a vicious punch was delivered to Daryl’s stomach and he collapsed to his knees. You screamed and struggled against Negan’s grip.

“Stop, please,” you begged. “Please don’t-“

“Don’t what, darlin’?” Negan asked you as Daryl was hauled back to his feet. “I told you, tell him why he’s gettin’ the shit knocked out of him today and goin’ back in the hole.”

“I - I wouldn’t let you touch me,” you said, almost too quiet to hear, but Daryl’s eyes shot to yours and you saw nothing but admiration, so you spoke louder and more confidently. “I wouldn’t let him touch me.”

“Even though?” Negan nudged you.

“Even though I’m your wife,” you growled. “I’m sorry, Daryl, I tried but I just couldn’t let him-”

“S’alright, sweetheart,” he spoke in that gruff voice you loved so much, “I’m damned proud of you. Don’t you ever give in to that son of a -“

Simon delivered another breathtaking punch to Daryl’s gut that made him buckle again and you cried out for him, with Negan’s hands squeezing bruises into your upper arms as you struggled against him. This time Daryl didn’t get up again, and Simon and the others changed to kicking his ribs and legs. 

You begged for them to stop, but Negan just held you tighter and laughed in your ear.

“This is all on you, y/n,” he said. “You did this. I told you what your choices were, and you made the wrong one. Now, I’ve told you before, everyone is a resource. You’ve gotta be useful to me, darlin’, otherwise you’re just dead weight. Your boy here, he’s learned that. Daryl’s been nothin’ but a good little soldier since we brought you on board. Do you really wanna keep hurting him like this? Because I gotta tell ya, if it’s not him, it’ll be one of your other friends back in Alexandria. How many people you wanna hurt, y/n?”

You sobbed again. You couldn’t say the words out loud because even with Daryl suffering in front of you, you didn’t want it to be true. You didn’t want to be trapped here as Negan’s wife, or forced to let him touch you. Your stomach rolled and you thought you might throw up again.

Simon and the others stopped their assault of Daryl and stepped away, and Negan shoved you down to the ground in front of him. You reached out and touched his bloody and bruised face and his hand found yours.

“I’m so sorry,” you said to him and brushed his damp hair away from his face. “I’m sorry, I should have just let him-“

“Don’t you ever ‘pologise for that,” he said breathlessly through a groan. “You don’t let that son of a bitch do anything to ya, y’hear? I’ll take a beatin’ every day, y/n, I swear.”

“I can’t, I can’t let them do this to you,” you cried, and you took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “It’s not fair, I don’t want this.”

“What’s it gonna be, y/n?” Negan asked, his voice almost tender. “This is your choice, I can’t make it for you.”

You shot him a look that dripped with every ounce of hatred you had for him.

“It ain’t a choice to anyone with a soul, you asshole,” you spat at him, but Negan just laughed. 

“Did you hear that one, boys?” Negan chuckled along with his men. “She thinks I don’t have a soul!”

Negan crouched down behind you and you could feel his hot breath on your neck. Daryl’s grip on your hand tightened and even in his terrible battered state you thought he might pounce on Negan.

“Say goodbye for now, y/n,” your captor said to you. “I’m gonna give you a few days to cool off, maybe see if the other girls can talk a little more sense into you. ‘Cos if this happens again, your boyfriend here gets more than just a beatin’ and you’ll have to watch before the same thing happens to you, got it?”

Daryl shook his head, his blue eyes pleaded with you to not give in. But you couldn’t stand to see this happen to him again, and even though every fibre of your being protested, you nodded. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Daryl’s forehead, surprised that Negan let you, and then you were pulled to your feet. 

“Take her back to her room, and send Amber my way,” Negan commanded and pushed you towards Simon. He looked down at Daryl like he was something he had scraped off his shoe. “Throw him back in the hole tonight, boy’s not as broken in as we thought.”

You stole one last glance at Daryl as Simon grabbed your sore arms and dragged you back up the stairs to your gilded cage. 

[scftangl]

Me every time in a fanfic they villainise a female character just so there's unnecessary drama or a stupid love triangle:

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

Series masterlist

A Season 1! Daryl Dixon x wife!reader series

↝warning: angst, typical TWD stuff and lore, season 1, death, crying, blood, zombies, marriage

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6 (tba)

|| 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. ||

•2021-2025 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 do NOT give permission!]

[animasola86]

🚩 FORCED: 02+03

After "agreeing" to an "offer" you couldn't refuse, you wake up in quite the predicament, bound and gagged and blindfolded, with a lot more surprises waiting for you.

a morally gray man!your new master ✖️ female!reader

WARNING: This is a DARK FANTASY EROTICA! Beware of the following tags: Dead dove: do not eat! Explicit sexual content! Noncon! Master/servant dynamic! Bad BDSM etiquette! Predicament bondage! Gags/blindfolds/anal hook! Oral sex! Anal sex! Hurt/No comfort! Fucking machine! Double penetration! Forced orgasms! Squirting! Overstimulation! (🚩Please do not read/engage if any of these tags are triggering to you!)

WORDS: 4k 🚩 READ ON AO3!

A/N: Have the short version of my lengthy notes from chapter 1: This is dark and rough and basically a dumping ground for the most depraved kinks I could think of. Mind the tags!

And speaking of tags, yes, this is again tagged for various fandoms, even though this is not about your favorite blorbo. This is an original, "make the male lead your own blorbo" kind of story. It's also more focused on the Reader character in these chapters (who, by the way, has female genitalia and hair long enough to braid and is referred to as Doll).

For more information, check the Author's Notes on chapter 1.

Also: these are two chapters put into one post because they were so short (I uploaded them individually to AO3 though). But they are no less intense. Be warned!

Chapter 1 🔻 Chapter 2+3 🔺 Chapter 4

You woke up with a deep gasp, your body resuming the frantic attempt to get air into your lungs. Your jaw was aching, and you realized your mouth was open, a steady stream of drool dripping down your lips and your chin, gathering in a puddle beneath your head. There was something holding your lips apart, something rigid, hard, tasting of cold metal and earthy leather. Your tongue could move freely, tracing the contraption with a morbid fascination. You tried to swallow all the spit pooling in your mouth, but it hurt until you figured out to press your tongue against your gums.

Panic flooded you nonetheless as more of your body resumed its functions. You realized you were lying on your stomach, bent slightly, with your ass raised, and your head turned to the side, resting on something soft but cold, more leather, you assumed. It was dark, and it wasn't that there wasn't any light, it was something covering your eyes. A blindfold, and you felt it bound together behind your head, along with that thing that held your mouth open. Your hair seemed to be pulled back into a braid, the fray ends tickled between your shoulder blades. Of course you were still naked.

You tried moving your arms, but found yourself unable to. They were hanging off the edge of whatever furniture you were lying on, straight down, and when you moved your fingers, they brushed against something solid, and it felt as if you were held down by thick leather straps, making it impossible to move. The same was happening to your legs. Additionally, they were spread far apart, and you could feel the cool air of the room on your warm sex, exposed and vulnerable as it was.

Another flood of ice cold panic crashed through you, and you squirmed, urged out words that couldn't form with how your mouth was held open, thrashing your head, and it was then that you felt the painful sting. Freezing mid-motion, you let out a whimper when you realized there was something attached to your hair, to the end of your braid, and whenever you moved your head, that something pulled taut and made something else press hard against your insides, forcing your tight muscles apart.

You saw the hook-like metal thing before your eyes, lying on the soft velvet, with its ball-shaped bumps, and now you could feel it inside your ass, deep inside you, cold and heavy and hard, held in place by a rope attached to your braid. A fucking anal hook. You groaned, or tried to, stiffening to not cause yourself any more discomfort. It felt weird, especially since you'd never had anything up your butt before. It was wrong, and the way it was connected to your head, moving whenever you moved, made you feel sick to your already cramping stomach.

But it gave you enough leeway to rest your cheek on the soft leather, if you bent your neck just right. Breathing harder, trying to ignore the drool gathering on your tongue and pooling beneath you, you forced yourself to think through the panic clouding your mind. You were trapped, strapped to a table or bench or whatever sick kind of contraption. You were naked, spread wide open, impaled by a metal hook, gagged and blindfolded, and despite trying to see a silver lining or any possibility of escape, you couldn't find it. There was no way you could escape from this.

And now you were crying on top of anything else, big fat tears soaking into your blindfold until they were rolling down your face, dripping into your open mouth, burning on your hot skin, your throat closed up, your nose felt stuffed, it was harder and harder to breathe. This was hopeless! What did you do to deserve this? Hiccups shook your bound body, letting the hook dance in your ass, and you whined and wailed, spiraling deeper and deeper into the bottomless pit that your life had turned into.

In the midst of your despair, you suddenly heard footsteps, and the noise made you pause mid-sob, your heart racing and echoing loud in your ears. Fingertips traced along your hips, making you shiver, before you felt them lifting your head up by pulling on your braid. Breathing harder, face soaked in tears and sweat, snot and drool, your neck was angled up slightly, a strange pressure on your scalp as the rope connecting your hair to the hook in your ass was pulled tighter, and when the hands retreated, you found yourself stuck in that position, unable to move your head, and as you tried nonetheless, the thing in your ass moved, hard and unrelenting, pulling on your tense muscles.

You whined softly, trying to swallow the saliva that now pooled on your tongue. The hands were back on your shoulders, circling your face, holding your chin, wiping at the wet mess on your skin. A finger pushed into your mouth, right onto your tongue, and you flinched away, causing you to pull on the hook, coaxing another whimper out of your throat. One finger became two, and both digits moved in and out of your open mouth, slipping deeper, teasing at the back of your throat. And you couldn't move away without hurting yourself, so you held your breath, squeezing your eyes shut under the blindfold, and endured.

Or tried to, before the fingers made you gag violently as they pressed deeper into your throat. Your whole body jerked against your restraints, the hook in your ass pressing against your tight muscles, pulling at your hole, and you felt it clenching around the metal item, trying to get to terms with it. The fingers continued to probe at your throat, and you wanted to close your mouth, bite down on them, but the gag holding your jaw open kept you from doing anything. You were utterly helpless.

New tears burned under your eyelids, muffled gurgling sounds erupting from deep within you. Then the fingers were gone again, and you wanted to take a much needed breath, only to find yourself stuffed with something else. Bigger than fingers, wider and hotter, longer too as it pushed straight into your mouth, right against the back of your throat, something pulsing against your tongue, soft skin with a hardened core, and as hard as it was, it kept pushing, nudging, prodding, until you had to gag again, spit filling your mouth, when the spongy tip forced deeper into your throat.

Your head was spinning, empty and full at the same time, there was no coherent thought, just an overall panic, a need to breathe, and you got only granted a few seconds before it all happened again. In and out it went, and you knew by now it must have been a cock even though you can barely remember the last time you had one in your mouth (due to you only letting go when drunk), especially not one this big, the way it felt on your tongue, warm and throbbing, hard and also slightly soft, filling your mouth, bending, molding into the shape of your throat as it fucked your face over and over again, always pushing deep, making you gag with every attempt, until you felt too drowsy to fight the intrusion any longer.

There was a hand under your chin now, holding your head up as it got too heavy and you threatened to rip your hair out with how it pulled at the hook in your ass, but the motion continued, in and out, using your mouth like a hole whose only purpose was to be used like that. It wasn't a mouth, just a hole, with a tightly contracting throat squeezing the thing slipping into it time and time again, bulging your neck, finding space where there shouldn't be any. You felt sick, but too tired to retch any more, drool and something warm and sticky dripping from your chin, obscene gurgling and squelching sounds filling your ears.

The movements became quicker then, the hand slipped lower to grab at your throat, tightening your airways even more whenever the cock slipped particularly deep. Rough hairs tickled your nose and something firm and equally squishy pressed against your chin. Fingers squeezed your neck, squeezed around the cock in your throat, held tightly, and you couldn't do anything, couldn't fight the black spots dancing in front of your already obstructed vision, couldn't fight the urge to breathe, the vertigo, the panic, the fear.

Before you could fall over the edge into blissful nothingness, or so you hoped, you were released, and something hot and sticky hit your face, landed deep in your mouth, salty to the taste, piling up more and more, and you were too delirious to swallow, you just wanted to let it drip – if it wasn't for the hand pressed to your open mouth.

“Swallow,” came the low command, hoarse and demanding, and you let out a strangled whimper before you pressed your laden tongue to your gums and swallowed, feeling it slide down your hurting throat, the motion only adding to the overall pain you felt.

Your head was still held up by the rope connecting it to the hook, and when the hands fell away, you whined, wanting nothing more than to lie down fully and preferably just die, but then you felt the pressure easing on your braid, and without warning your head smacked down on the leather surface you were bound to, a groan escaped you, stars dancing behind your eyelids.

It numbed the pain that was now centering on your ass as the same hands that almost choked you were now playing with the metal hook, pushing it in and out, teasing your tense muscles, and it got worse when they pulled it out, slowly, so excruciatingly slow you could feel every single bump passing by your tight rim, until it was gone, leaving you aching and gaping.

For a few minutes nothing happened. You had time to relax, breathe deeply, try to ignore the soreness in your throat, and as you fought the vertigo overtaking you, you felt something nudging against your sphincter. A muffled cry escaped you, and you squirmed, pushing against your restraints as something warm and wet pushed into you. Slow little nudges, forcing your muscles away, and when it slipped in, you wailed soundlessly.

It was so much bigger than the hook, not as hard and rigid, but filling you out even more as it prodded deeper and deeper, with slow snaps of hips pressing against your rear. A sudden slap on one of your ass cheeks made you jump, a new kind of pain crashing through you, then it happened again, on the same spot, and you howled breathlessly, and the cock pressed deeper while your muscles protested, but to no avail. You were full of it now as it bottomed out, resting deep within you, before two strong hands gripped your hips, and the pressure loosened slightly when he drew back – only to slam into you again with even more force.

It was a sickening rhythm of drag, slam, whine, as he pulled out slowly, ramming back in, causing you to wail every time he seemed to rearrange your guts. Lewd slurping noises echoed in your ears as your ass grew more and more accustomed to the strange intruder, the friction was still bad, a horrible burning sensation as the cock dragged along your tense muscles, but the motion became easier to handle the faster it got.

You felt every hard thrust, and with your body strapped to whatever surface you were bound to, held in place by tight leather straps cutting into your skin, you couldn't move away, you could just take it. And take it again and again and again... until you thought you couldn't take any more, but he still gave you more, a fast rutting, a heavy pounding, slaps and stabs, bullying your muscles, pushing deep, stretching your limits, occupying every single inch of available space and beyond.

It was almost a relief when he finally stilled inside you and came, shooting thick ropes of cum into your abused depths, a strange warmth that eased the aching of your insides at least a little bit. But when he pulled out, the resulting emptiness was even worse. Cold air hit exposed flesh, making you shiver, your hole clenching in vain as his seed started dripping down your skin. You felt it and you still tasted it on your tongue, it was all around you, warm and sticky, degrading and humiliating, and you succumbed to the cold feeling of disgust, of fear and pain, of helplessness, of defeat.

Sobbing quietly, you were left alone, in the darkness, in the void of your own misery.

[READ ON AO3]

You must have fallen asleep again, because when you woke up, you were in a new position, lying on your back, legs raised and spread far apart, held in place by a new set of thick leather bands. And this time, you could see (and you almost wished you didn't), your frantic eyes searched the dark room you were in, you could make out shapes of benches and chairs, but nothing more. The light came from somewhere behind you, but you couldn't stretch your neck to be able to see it. You could barely lift your head to begin with.

There was another kind of gag in your mouth, a ball this time, something to bite down on if need be, and need was certainly there. Your arms were bound together somewhere above your head, wrists tied with thick ropes, your fingers tingling from how tight the ropes dug into your skin, slowly cutting off your circulation. Something was holding your arms up, like a metal hook that wasn't in your ass this time. There was something else in there now, you could feel it before you could see it, along with something similar poking into your cunt: two large dildos attached to some sort of machine prodded at your holes, just resting there, the tips barely penetrating you, but you were already fearing for the worst, your heart beat accelerating as you stared down between your spread legs.

They looked big and girthy, cock-like in a horrifying way, and you could already imagine the stretch and how deep they would plunge. Shuddering badly, your breaths turning into frantic little puffs that barely made it out of your nose, you watched your chest rising and falling faster, your heart thundering beyond, panic settling back into your restrained limbs.

The light got more for a moment before a large shadow fell over you. You stiffened, eyes widening, breath hitching. The man walked by, still in the fancy suit you'd first seen him in, completely ignoring you, then stepped to the machine between your legs. He didn't even look at you when he pressed a button and a whirring sound echoed through the room, followed by the rhythmic noise of the dildos pressing back and forth, and you gasped into your gag, straining and struggling, fruitlessly trying to get your hips away as the phallic items alternated between poking into your ass and poking into your pussy. In and out, a sickeningly slow rhythm, stretching you relentlessly.

The man pressed a few more buttons and the motions grew quicker, the whirring sounds louder, and the in and out got all the worse. They plunged deeper, their force relentless, poking at your soft flesh, at your tense muscles, forcing their way into you, while you wailed soundlessly, your muffled noises barely audible over the sounds of the machine. The constant in and out, drag, push, drag push, dragpush, one going into your cunt and the other moving out of your ass, out of your cunt and into your ass, back and forth, over and over again, in speeds that weren't normal, had your mind spinning and caused your stomach to tense up something awful.

A strange warmth built up inside you, filling you, expanding, urging to be released, and you groaned, squirming as best as you could with how you were bound to the bench, but you couldn't even lift your hips properly with that leather strap pushing down on your abdomen, couldn't escape even if you wanted to. And eventually, you didn't even want to. You wanted more. For them to move faster, hit different spots, drive you over the edge, but they kept their lazy rhythm, in, out, and there was no other stimulation.

Your eyes were unfocused but you still tried to throw a pleading look towards the man who stood beside you, watching you with an impassive gaze. A garbled noise escaped you that should have been a please, but of course nothing came past the gag in your mouth. Besides more drool. He moved then, and you wished he didn't after all. The dildos moved faster, no longer alternating, but pushing in at the same time, in, in, out, out, so fast the whirring noises were deafening.

You screamed through your gag, eyes rolling back, as they plunged deep and pulled and stretched your muscles, invading further than before, further than they should reach. You felt awfully full, and hot, your whole body covered in a fine sheen of sweat, as your heart beat faster and your breaths came through your nose in frantic desperation. It was all too much, and not enough at the same time. The machine pounded into you, unrelenting, unaware of your discomfort, programmed to push and pull.

Hot tears mixed with sweat and saliva as you cried helplessly, your stomach tensing even more, the heat burning within you almost unbearable. And then there was a click, and it got even worse. They moved faster, really pistoning in and out at an inhuman speed, attacking your holes with full force. Muffled screams and whines and whimpers echoed through the room, barely audible over the machine's loud whirring.

They stabbed you, and they stabbed you deep, the one in your cunt prodding at your cervix, and each time it did, which was every second or quicker it seemed, you shuddered and cried out, and that strange pain slowly turned into something else. The warmth built up, that coil in your stomach wrought so tight it was almost breaking, and then... it broke, and everything else broke loose too, and you came hard.

Your body spasmed and convulsed in its restraints, something warm and wet sprayed past the intruders, splattering to the floor, and you kept trembling, head thrashed back, mind empty and full of cotton at the same time, a million little lights dancing behind your eyelids. The machine kept going, the dildos held their insanely fast pace, loud squelching sounds mixing with the mechanical whirring, and you felt that tension building up again... and again... and you came once more, overwhelmed and unable to stop it.

You stopped counting after the fifth time it forced you to orgasm, and you were exhausted, barely able to breathe, barely able to function. You were just a body strapped to a bench with your legs held up in strange stirrups, your arms tied above your head, and a fucking machine assaulting your holes without mercy. It hurt so bad, you were sore and tired, but the spasms kept coming, and you kept coming, and you were so close to just give in, so close to the edge of the void that promised to swallow you whole.

But then it all stopped, and an eerie silence fell over you. It was just your frantic breaths, the drumming of your heart in your ears, the squeaking of the bench whenever you jerked involuntarily against your bounds. And the dildos rested inside you, all the way in, filling you, keeping you plugged up, holding you in place. You couldn't move, couldn't think. It doesn't matter. It's over. And you calmed down, head lolled to the side, eyelids fluttering shut.

A hand moved along your neck, fingers pressing against your pulse point, then came a little grunt, and a palm slapping hard against your cheek causing you to whine out loud, your eyes flying open. The man stood over you, his gaze dark.

“You are not done yet,” he told you ominously, and you frowned, trying to plead with him, but he retreated and walked back to the machine.

You couldn't fully see what he was doing, but he somehow added something to it, another arm with some sort of attachment, and you gasped into your gag when you felt it. A constant buzzing, pressed straight to your swollen clit. He clicked some more buttons and the vibrations grew in intensity, making you thrash your head and pull on the bounds of your arms, which in turn seemed to pull you further up the bench. But the strap around your stomach kept your body from moving, so you just stretched your torso, and your joints started hurting. It felt as if your shoulders would be ripped right out of their sockets, and you whined, stopped moving, tried to anyway.

“Stay still,” his low voice came to you, barely audible over the humming of the vibrator and your own heartbeat in your ears.

You sniffled, new tears spilling from your lashes, your nose clogging up badly. You could barely breathe, your lips fluttering around the ball in your mouth, jaw aching under the strain to open further, but the item between your teeth was too big to allow for air to rush past it. Your eyes widened in panic as you realized that.

He sighed, shaking his head, then fumbled with the leather strap holding the gag in place. To your growing surprise, he actually removed it, though he kept his hand like a vice on your jaw, staring down at you. You blinked, a gurgled wail escaping you. He reached for something under the bench, and a pathetic whimper slipped from your swollen lips. It was the ring gag again.

He forced the metal ring between your teeth and attached it to your head, and even though you could breathe through your mouth now, it didn't stop the drool from dripping down your chin. Turning your head to the side, he patted your cheek before stepping back. You inhaled sharply, rapid breaths to fill your aching lungs, snot and saliva mixing with your tears and sweat. You felt miserable, but never bad enough to be able to ignore the buzzing against your clit. It made your vision blur, your stomach tense up all over again, and it got even worse when he turned the machine back on.

Now it was moving in its lazy rhythm, alternating again, never leaving you empty as the dildos pushed first into your cunt and then into your ass, cunt, ass, in, out, slow and steady, with their tips always holding you open.It would have been lulling if the stimulation of your sensitive nub wouldn't still be on the forefront of your mind. It kept you alert, balancing on the edge, always too much, but also never enough. You squirmed, tried to get more out of it, but it only earned you another slap to the cheek, which was burning, pulsing heavily against the leather strap of the gag.

You sniffled, squeezing your eyes shut against the pain that slowly bled into the overwhelming pleasure building up inside you. A click and the machine moved faster while the vibrator toned down, and you whined pathetically. So close. Another kind of vibration buzzed in the air, and you saw him pulling his phone out of his suit jacket. Your mind was too clouded to understand anything, but when he walked closer to you, his hand warm and big on your jaw, you blinked into attention.

“I gotta go for a bit, doll,” he told you, and your eyes widened as you struggled frantically in your restraints. “Don't worry, I'll leave the machines on. Just for you. See you soon.”

And then he just left, and you were alone with the two large dildos fucking your holes and the vibrator thrumming against your clit, hopeless and helpless, forced to endure. Overwhelmed and exhausted, covered in sweat and tears, snot and drool, and your own juices dripping down your ass. You tried to relax into the motions, but you never could, you remained on edge, so close, but never enough.

This time, the pleasure built up slowly, just a warmth within you, with your muscles contracting lazily, your stomach tensing, thrust after thrust, buzz after buzz, and it still felt like being thrown before a bus when you tipped over the edge. Your cries were muffled, tears spilling from your eyes as you squeezed them shut, that wave of bliss pulling and pulling you up up up, the constant movement of the toys pulling you down down down, and you were tossed around like a leaf in the storm, suffocating, drowning, pulled under.

There was no end or beginning anymore, it was all the same, too much for your spasming body, your twitching limbs, your curling toes, stomach fluttering, cunt clenching, ass tightening, while the dildos pushed in and out, in and out, over and over again, keeping you afloat, fueled by the humming of the vibrator, your clit throbbing, swollen and raw, too sensitive to handle anything anymore.

Eventually, fortunately, the room fell into darkness, but the whirring of the machine followed you into the depth.

Chapter 1 🔻 Chapter 2+3 🔺 Chapter 4

End notes: Aaaand she fainted again, the poor thing. Have I mentioned this story is dark and depraved and has no comfort? Sorry, I did warn you. And it'll only get worse from here...

New chapter every Saturday at around 9pm CEST!

Thank you for braving this depravity reading!

MASTERLIST 🔻 AO3 🔻 ORIGINAL WORKS

[dreamtofus]

I just want to thank anyone and everyone who writes fanfic

like wdym this masterpiece is FREE

ps reblog ur fav fics.

[pretty-circa006]

Pie

Negan x F! Reader

summary Negan fucks you when you try to bake a pie tags slight breeding kink, unprotected p in v, vaginal fingering, pet names, pussy eating, not proofread

wc 1.4k

note just finished a little wip i had sitting around. got the idea when i was listening to stargirl interlude, so maybe you wanna listen to that while reading

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚���⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

Negan was a great cook. It wasn't a well known fact considering he was a rather busy man with leading the Saviors and all. Occasionally, he'd make dinner for his wives and those were always her favorite days. And since last night was one of those nights, she wanted to do something to return the favor. 

So here she was in the kitchen, flour dusted her classy black dress and her fingers were sticky with pie filling as she worked on rolling out the dough for the pie's crust. This pie was going to be her way of thanking Negan for being such a good husband—at least to her. 

"What's all this?" she heard him ask from the entryway. 

"I'm baking you a 'thank you' pie," she replied as she lined the pie pan with the crust. 

"Thank you pie? The hell’s a 'thank you' pie?" 

"I dunno, just my way of showing you that I lo- appreciate you." She poured some of the apple filling into the crust, hoping he didn't catch her almost mistake.

"Well aren't you a sweetheart," he said wrapping his arms around her. His salt and pepper beard tickled her neck as he pressed kisses to it, ignoring her lighthearted pleas for him to stop distracting her. As she cut the leftover dough into strips, Negan reached over and scooped some pie filling from the bowl before sucking it off his finger. 

"Mmm! This is fuckin' delicious, baby," he rasped into her ear. Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. "Glad you like it." The kisses he was leaving on her neck grew more sensual –open mouthed with nips here and there– as she did her best to lay the lattice pattern with the dough atop the pie. His hands drifted from her hips down to her upper thighs where his hands slid beneath her dress, slowly lifting it until it was bunched up at her hips. She did her best to pretend like she wasn't distracted and continue to lay the pattern on top of the pie, but really, his touches were arousing her. 

"What're you doin'?" she asked him once his fingers looped around the waistband of her panties. He was too busy kissing down her shoulder to answer, but she had the feeling he wouldn't have answered anyway. In one fell swoop he yanked her panties down before his hand wedged its way between her legs. She let out a whimper, but otherwise continued with the pie. He began rubbing tight circles over her clit as he licked and sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her breathing grew shallow as her resolve began to fade. Restrained whimpers escaped her lips, but that wasn't good enough for him. 

"I wanna hear you, doll," he ordered. Her answer came out in the form of a breathy moan once he slipped a thick finger into her soaking pussy. Her hands gripped the counter as his finger glided in and out the spongy walls of her cunt. He inserted another and the gentle stretch felt so good. His thumb rubbed quick circles on her clit as he fingered her. Her thighs squeezed his hand as her hips ground onto his hand. With his foot, he nudged her legs further apart before increasing his pace. 

“Negan, please, I’m close,” she wantonly whined between pants. He pulled away from her neck with an audible pop, leaving what she was sure would be a sizable mark. He removes his fingers from her cunt which earned a displeased pout from her. She was about to object, but was cut off when he turned her to face him. Beneath his gaze, her entire body felt like it was on fire, especially between her legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her lips for a kiss. His hands slid up her body, beneath her dress, feeling her body wherever his hands could reach. His tongue slid between her smooth lips and she tangled her fingers in his hair as sigs and moans crossed between their lips, merging into one sound in their kiss. He lifted her before setting her onto a free space on the countertop. In need of breath, he pulled away from the kiss. Instead of going back to her lips, he kissed down her jaw, to her neck, then her collarbones before unzipping the back of her dress and sliding the straps down her shoulders. He lowered himself to his knees, looking at her with a smirk on his face as he did so, and spread her thighs open. Her cunt was practically leaking, desperate to be filled by the man beneath her, and my god he thought it looked delicious. He kissed his way up her leg, starting from her ankle, until he got to her inner thighs, right in front of where she wanted him most. He nipped and sucked at the soft flesh until he had her whimpering. 

“Please, Negan, I need you!” She begged, desperate for some attention on her neglected cunt. Finally, his soft lips surround her clit, sucking it gently for a moment before he pulls away. His warm, wet tongue licked a stripe between her folds, tasting her arousal directly from the source. Her fingers weave through his greying hair, pulling him deeper into her pussy. She finally got what she wanted when his tongue entered her hole. She leaned back, supporting her weight on her arms from behind. She threw her head back in a pleasured haze as his tongue worked magic on her pussy. The warm muscle worked its way around her velvety walls and pressed against her g-spot as his lips were practically making out with her lower ones. Her cunt squeezed his tongue and nails scratched at the countertop as she reached her peak with a scream of his name. His beard was glistening with her juices when he pulled away, a wide dimpled smile plastered on his face.

“Doll, you’re so delicious I almost forgot about that goddamn pie.” She giggled, smiling at him as she slid off the countertop. She was about to wash her hands and resume fixing the pie, but Negan stopped her in her tracks. 

“Oh I’m not done with you,” he growled. 

“But what about the pie?” She asked feigning innocence, batting her eyelashes.  She didn’t really care about the pie and it was obvious by the way she was undoing his belt buckle. 

“Forget that goddamn pie and bend over, babydoll.” He eyed her bare, plump ass as he freed his hardened cock from his pants. He slid it up and down her slick folds before lining it up with her needy cunt. He slid in almost effortlessly, his large dick stretching her hole, but filling her up perfectly. 

“This pussy was made for me,” he moans. His large hands hold her hips as he thrusts roughly into her, desperately wanting to reach his own orgasm. The sound and smell of sex filled the kitchen as he plowed into her from behind. Her head hung low as she cried his name over and over, nothing else on her mind but the man filling her. Tears from overstimulation flowed down her face as pleasure overtook her. Negan’s cock twitched inside of her, his own orgasm rapidly approaching.

“God you feel so good, baby. Can’t wait to fill this pussy.” The next thing that fell from her mouth was just garbled gibberish and lewd moans, but he knew that meant she’s close. He leans down over her body and intertwines his hands with the backs of hers. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear and pressed gentle kisses to the side of her head as he shot his load into her abused cunt at the same time she reaches her second orgasm. 

“You did so good for me, angel. Such a good girl,” he cooed as he slowly softened inside of her. 

After he pulled out of her,  he helped her get redressed, but by then she was too spent to even care about the pie. 

thank you for reading! <3

[zmbiesoph]

CARL GRIMES X FEM!Y/N AESTHETIC

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi, I just read wandering Babies and I was wondering if I could maybe get a part two maybe a few months to year later, if not it's all good.

.⋆｡Stationary Family｡⋆.

Negan x plus size reader

Though he no longer had power or the fear of people around him, Negan felt like he was the top of the fucking world.

Warnings: mom!reader, I fucked with the timeline a bit (as always), pregnant!reader, fluff, mentions of the war and walkers, dad!Negan, no use of Y/N, vague mention of pegging and trying for a baby, suggestive WC: 1.6k Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Wandering Babies (part 1)

The ache in his back was getting worse by the second, but Negan was in no position to complain, at least not out loud. His hands seemed permanently caked in mud, the back of his neck perpetually sunburnt as he toiled away in the gardens of Alexandria. This was his penance, a redemption via servitude to the people he had tormented who had given him mercy at his weakest moment. 

He knew he deserved worse, so he kept his mouth firmly shut as he winched with earth painful twinge up his back.

“Daddy!” But that made it all better. Negan let out a groan of pain as he stood up, his joints screaming after being in the same position for hours. The sun hovered just above the horizon, painting the walled town in a golden light and silhouetted against the main square was the reason he kept working as hard as he did.

“Hi girls!” He called back. Immediately, the older two kids took off running, weaving their way through the rows of crops expertly all while their mother lazily trailed behind them, hand in hand with their youngest who was not yet confident enough to walk around Alexandria without one of his parent’s holding his hand.

Isabella, the faster of the twins, slammed into his open arms, her bubbly laugh instantly relieving the pain of the day. Negan’s grip was firm around his girl, breathing in the clean smell of her soap. “I wanted to hug daddy first!” Lucia wiggled her little body into the small space between his bent legs, sighing happily as she too got to wrap herself up in his warmth for the first time that day.

Though their weight pulled on his already strained back, he held them tighter still, gratefully sending out another than you to the universe for letting him keep the small family he had somehow swindled his way into. 

“Girls! Let daddy take a second to breathe before you smother him and I have to clean him up… again.” The sensually curvaceous shadow that fell over him suddenly gave the man a second wind. Arms tightening around the girls, he shot up, dragging their giggling bodies into the air and then he was stood above her— the absolute fucking love of his life.

“Now now mama, I happen to remember that you like cleaning me up. May I remind you of that wonderful jacuzzi tub with the 12 separate jets. Huh, baby?” Her lips curled into an almost vicious frown but Negan saw just how her eyes sparkled and he would bet his left fucking arm that there was a a nice little heat crawling up her neck.

“You are a dirty pervert.” She scolded as she pulled barely four year old onto her wide hip, his chunky hand clinging to the buttons of her shirt.

“What’s a pervert mama?” Lucia blurted out. Negan responded by skillfully flipping her little body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, sending her into another fit of screaming giggles. He knew he was gonna pay for that later, in more ways than one.

“And how is my favourite little man?” Tomas grinned at his father, proudly showing off his pearly whites. 

“I made buns!” Negan’s greying brow lifted as his lips turned up. She knew exactly what he wanted to say next and she was not going to indulge him. 

“And some spaghetti for dinner. The girls made the sauce.” The smile that graced her face made her glow in the last dredges of sunlight, her heart laid out plainly before him like it was the day the girls had first called him dad, the first time she let him take care of her. 

“Then c’mon, daddy’s fudging hungry!” 

——————

“Roll over.” Dinner was done, baths had and then the bathroom floor mopped, and all the children were now peacefully sleeping in their beds. Negan had all but collapsed onto the mattress, his aching muscles screaming in relief.

“Baby, you know I love you and find you sexy as shit but I don’t do the whole ‘taking it’ route.” He obeyed anyway, his face burying into the pillows on her side of the bed. “‘Sides, don’t think I could get the big guy up right now if I tried.” 

The bed dipped around his hips as a weight settled just below his ass. “Eh, more like just above average guy.” Warm hands pressed against his shoulder blades, keeping him from flipping back over in protest.

“Now that’s just fucking mean baby.” She hummed under her breath.

“Jesus, your back is like a bag of rocks.” Her thumbs dug against the sinewy muscle along his spine, drawing a strained groan from the man between her legs. Negan curled his fingers into the duvet as she hit a particularly sore spot.

“Yeah well, it’s not like I get a fucking day off.” The comforting weight of her body leveraged forwards, forcing his bare chest deeper into their mattress and the air from his lungs. The pressure was so blissfully perfect that all he could do was release a moan she had only ever heard before when it was him above her.

Her chuckle vibrated through his skin. “You’ve been working so hard, handsome. I’m sure I could get Michonne to swing a couple days to rest. I can grab a couple extra shifts on watch and in inventory to make up for it.” 

“No.” His hand landed on the soft fat of her thigh and gave it a warning squeeze. “This is my punishment. And I’m supposed to be taking care of you and the kids, especially since…” His voice trailed off. Negan turned his head, his brown eyes gazing up at the woman who had given him purpose and light.

Her smile was gentle. “Since what babe? Since we’re fucking raw every chance we get so you can get another little prince or princess to spoil?” A blush bloomed across his stubbled cheeks.

“Good lord woman, when did you get so fucking vulgar?” With one last deep press against the base of his spine, releasing the pops that had been sitting in between his vertebrae for the last five hours, she lifted herself off of him and dropped onto the bed next to him, their heads brushing each other.

“Oh that’s nothing compared to the shit you’ve said while you were inside me.” She threw a plump leg over his hips, pulling herself even closer to him in a way that he used to dream about. His arm wrapped around her waist, thanking her with a soft kiss to the tip of her nose.

A solemn expression pulled at her lips and eyebrows. “Just, don’t forget that you do have people who love you. Your redemption had already been earned and then some in our eyes, you just have to believe us.” Her fingers ran through his salt and pepper hair as a familiar comfort coiled around them in the small bubble of their bed.

Negan knew that he could break his back every day for the next century and never make up for the things he had done, the death and fear that came from his hand. In this moment, however, all he could think of was the family that had so captured him, shifted his soul so wholly that he could not even recognise his younger self. Lucia— his shy girl who grew more confident and bright with each compliment she was paid, Isabella— his competitive spirit who wanted nothing more than to make her family proud, and his sweet, curious little Tomas who was still a mama’s boy at heart, but never gave up the chance to help his father.

And their wonderful, intoxicating, stubborn, gorgeous, confusing mother who made sure to remind him every second that she could, that she had picked him, even after all the shit he had done, and that she loved him enough to risk her very life to give him another baby to love and raise with her.

“You are a fucking goddess.” Her lips fit effortlessly against his own. She sighed happily as he leaned against her, his tongue brushing against her bottom lip. The kiss deepened though it would not go any further than that, at least for that night. Negan mused briefly that maybe if he got both of them up early enough in the morning that they could take advantage of the nice big shower in the master bathroom.

“And you are a fucking sap.” She gasped for air. “Who would’ve thought that the big bad leader of the Saviours would end up living with the single mom of three who had somehow ended up in a place she shouldn’t be?” Her nails scratched his scalp, sending a pleasured tingle throughout his body.

“I did. Every night after the moment I met you, I wished and hoped for it— for this: us and the kids somewhere peaceful and safe.” She said nothing after that and he didn’t need her to. This was more than enough, to know that his kids were just a couple doors away and the woman who was something more than just a wife to him was cradled in his arms with a promise of a future he had always craved nestled somewhere in the universe.

Their goodnight was a gentle kiss and another soft smile. 

She would tell him tomorrow about the little surprise the kids had planned for him after they were told her secret after she would beg the Alexandrian council for a break for both of them. After all, they loved her babies, so they would obviously have to warm up to Negan if she had another one on the way.

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[grudgecollector]

hii queen! i saw that your requests are open, could you write something with daryl and a reader in the earlier seasons who are dating in secret? (they dont want no one to know because daryl is new to relationships and i believe he would be more reserved a little in the beggining), however the group ended up noticing how soft he is to her and how he always keep an eye on her😩 and also i just wanted to say that i read some of yours writtings and they are amazing💕💕

Gimme Shelter | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Tags: Swearing, twd typical violence, kind of slow burn, fluff, lightish angst, half proof-read

Words: 4.4k

A/N: Fank you so much nonny 💖😭 I've been really enjoying writing for Daryl, he was one of my biggest obsessions as a teenager, and that obsession will continue to prevail.

And this is such a cute request, I love secret relationship tropes so much. I decided to do Prison era!Daryl if that's okay, I assume you probably meant for like season 1 or 2, but I felt like it would be cute in the prison.

I know that a slow burn wasn't requested BUT the thoughts just kept coming the more I wrote. Also sorry this took so long to post.

Growing up people would always say you will find the one when you least expect it. Whether it’s in a grocery store, at the park, in a museum. That one person you’re bound to spend the rest of your life with will be there. As if they were waiting for you, and you for them. It was a fairytale dream, one that you lost faith in long ago. 

There were moments you had thought that maybe you finally found that person. Until disappointment would strike time and time again. Your experience with relationships had been less than ideal, never lasting longer than a year. Cheaters, liars, and worst of all abusers. Those types of men had always been the most drawn to you. Making you feel as if you were cursed somehow, unlucky. 

After a while and a slew of pity attempts, you gave up on dating for your own benefit. Deciding it would be best to focus more on yourself. Not allowing yourself to succumb to the societal pressure of getting married by twenty and popping kids out by twenty one. 

That was the dream of a delusional small town teenager, too young to think for themselves let alone plan a future family, and that had been your dream once upon a time. Maybe you read too many stories about young girls finding their prince charming and living happily ever after.

You started to value your alone time. Enjoying the feeling of not having to walk on eggshells in order to keep the other party happy. Things were smooth sailing for about two years. You changed your life around, got a new job, a new car, and a new apartment all within a few months. 

A newfound happiness was settling inside of you, you were beginning to find yourself again. You became more confident in who you were as a person, allowing yourself to actually live your life instead of just simply being alive. 

But life had a twisted sense of humor. 

Things started with frantic breaking news segments on the news. Reporters talking about the horrifying developments coming out of France. In the beginning you had hoped that things wouldn’t escalate past that, hoped that this would be an isolated incident. But things just got worse the more you watched. An unknown virus wreaking havoc across the entirety of Europe, spreading like wildfire across each country. 

After the first case of the virus was reported in Ohio, you started to worry. Things were getting too close for your liking, and with the details they were releasing it wasn’t going to get any better. With each new segment that aired your mother would call, urgently telling you to come back to live with them until this sickness blows over. You knew that it would be your best bet. 

Once the local grocery stores started getting raided, you found yourself being thankful that your family was full of survivalist nuts. Growing up hearing them praise people like Jim Baker, and other televangelist hackjobs like him that weaponized fear mongering for profit. 

Your parents home was stocked full of all the essentials thanks to your aunt Jess. First aid kits, canned food, water to last just a little over a month. It was everything you needed and more. 

“Y’always gotta be prepared, honey.” Your wine-drunk aunt had told you after a week, the both of you lounging on the sofa as you watched the news. “You don’t know how long this crap’s gonna last.” 

It all went by so quickly. The news stations eventually stopped airing not long after the first report hit Georgia, they were urging everyone to evacuate to Atlanta, leaving the streets a mess of honking and dead-stop traffic right outside of your parent’s home. 

And for a short while you had settled into this false hope that you were safe there with them. 

That was until you came back from a short trip to a ransacked Dollar General just down the street. 

The house was oddly quiet when you walked inside. The TV was muted on a flickering static screen, your dad’s recliner was empty, a blanket on the floor. The backdoor that led to the porch was ajar, the sun shining through the crack onto the wood flooring. You remembered that feeling in your stomach as you walked closer, fingers slowly curling around the doorknob. 

When you walked outside it felt as if a bucket of ice water was dumped over your head. The horrifying sight of your mother’s body being gutted by your own father and uncle, fresh blood dripped down the side of the RV next to your aunt’s already mangled corpse. Your hands were trembling fiercely, a nauseating coppery smell filling your nose. 

All you could remember was running. Packing whatever you could get your hands on before taking your mother’s minivan.  

Not long after the death of your family, you were taken in by a small group of five. They were unstable, barely hanging on by a thread, with almost nightly arguments tilting them further over the edge. 

It made things harder for you. The tension starting to make you too nervous to sleep without a knife tucked securely under your pillow. 

The self appointed leader demanded too much, wanting more than half of the rations to himself. He was a cruel hearted individual, mind diluted by the atrocities you were all forced to witness. A dangerous man who was quick tempered, and ruthless to anything or anybody you came across. 

After a month of running with them you made a mistake. You hid a portion of your findings from him. Food that he would have taken the majority of. But you were starving, at the point of hardly caring about your survival if it meant you could eat just a little bit more.

Other members had found out though, outing you quickly. As a punishment he tied you up, stole everything from you. Photo albums, your weapons, your food, bandages, it didn’t matter what it was. After beating you he left you in the supply closet of a convenient store you were temporarily camping out in. 

Part of you half expected them to come back, but you knew better than to think positively now, that could get you killed nowadays. 

The minutes blended into hours into what felt like days. The zip ties around your wrists and ankles dug harshly into your skin, biting into the raw bleeding flesh as you struggled to free yourself. Eventually it got to the point where you started slipping in and out of consciousness, your body exhausted and dehydrated. You were sure you would die there. 

But, much to your surprise, your luck hadn’t run dry just yet. 

In your haze you could hear the sound of once shuffling corpses hit against the door with a heavy thud. Hushed voices barely graced your ears through the door, two men talking to each other. 

Your voice was hoarse as you pathetically attempted to call out. Your throat was dry from the lack of water, forcing your words to come out as a croaking squeak.  

The door had been opened cautiously, the beam of a flashlight assaulting your eyes. You attempted to focus on the man crouching down above you, his blurred features obscured by the baseball hat he wore. 

“Rick!” The man called over his shoulder, another figure coming into view. He was wearing what seemed to be a police officer’s uniform. Whether it was stolen or actually his, you didn’t care, you just wanted out of this damn closet. 

Both men were quick to cut your binds and hauled you to your feet. The quick motion was all it took for you to finally pass out. A thick blanket of exhaustion pressed into you, forcing your eyes to flutter closed and your body to go completely limp. Unable to cling onto consciousness any longer

In those last moments you almost thought that they would just leave you there. Not wanting to bother helping a now passed out stranger, and you wouldn’t have blamed them if they did abandon you. 

Instead when you woke up you were laying on a couch, an older man with short white hair standing over you. 

At first you had almost believed you dreamed it all, the outbreak, the group. That you were in some sort of comatose state and the world was not overrun by flesh eating monsters. But the stinging pain deep within your wrists proved otherwise, the gashes covered by white gauze and medical tape. 

The white haired man, Hershel, ran you through your current state. Malnourishment, dehydration, feverish temperatures. It was evidently clear that you had been through the wringer, and if Glenn and Rick had not found you when they did, you would have died within the day. In fact he had said it was a miracle that Hershel himself could have saved you. 

You figured you had always been stubborn, though, you never gave up easily. 

Hershel had been kind enough to allow you to stay in his house until you got better. Providing you with enough water and food to get you back on your feet. 

The family allowed you to use their shower. When you looked at yourself in the mirror you understood why they were so insistent. A thick layer of grime and blood coated your skin, your hair was matted, your clothes ripped beyond repair. 

You couldn’t help but cry, realizing just how quickly you lost yourself out there. Your humanity has faded so much in such a short amount of time, leaving you a hollow shell of your former self. You looked like a stranger to yourself.

Over the next week Rick’s group urged you to stay. They knew you had nowhere else to go, no family to run back to. 

You were hesitant, though. You didn’t want to continue to be a burden, you were a stranger infiltrating an already close knit group. The closeness they had made you feel even more lonely than you did in your previous group, because at least when it came to them, you didn’t crave that companionship. 

Gone were the days of blind trust, knowing that everything always came with a price these days. So your knife stayed tucked beneath your pillow, fingers clutching onto the handle as you kept an eye on the zipped up entrance of the tent. 

On many sleepless nights, which were frequent, you would sit yourself in front of the dwindling fire outside of your tent. Mind wandering to everything that’s happened to you in the past three months, the things you’ve done to stay alive, the permanent scars you would carry with you for life. 

You stewed in your bitterness. Chewing ruthlessly on the skin around your fingernails. 

Your tent was further away from the rest of the group’s, tucked away in your own area. You found yourself watching the rest of them at first. Thoughts of running away while everyone slept crossed your mind more times than you could count. 

Until one night you heard a twig snap behind you, your knife quickly unsheathed and pointing towards what you thought to be a threat, 

“Geez. You’re almost as bad as Daryl.” One of the older men from Rick’s group, Dale, chuckled as he walked closer to your secluded camp, his hands up in surrender. “But I can go if you want.” He smiled softly. 

“Sorry… Bad habit.” You said quietly, setting your knife back down next to your thigh. 

He shook his head, taking a seat in front of the fire, “No need to be sorry. I can’t blame you for still being a little paranoid.” 

Dale quickly became a source of comfort for you, sporting an almost fatherly personality when talking to you. He was kind, and realistic which was exactly what you needed after everything you’ve been through. Over the course of a few nightly visits he was able to get you to open up a little, telling him about your former group, he was sympathetic and understanding. 

“The world has truly gone to hell.” He grimaced, taking his bucket hat off of his head. “But, we have good people here. Believe it or not.” His smile was reassuring. 

After a few days you started to come around more. Helping the women with laundry, listening to the stories they told about their lives before, anecdotes to keep themselves sane. 

It wasn’t hard to understand why they were so close. The tragedy of their former camp just outside of Atlanta, the C.D.C, Lori’s son getting shot, the people they’ve lost along the way. 

Slowly you felt more like yourself again.

Every so often they would mention that same name Dale did, Daryl. The only member of the group you had yet to meet personally. 

You had seen him walking around the camp, or tucked away in his own tent, further away from the group much like yours was. He was gruff looking, intimidating to the eye, and his occasional temper didn’t help much. But with how insistent he was on finding Carol’s missing daughter, you could tell there was warmth beneath his rigid exterior. 

The first time you talked to him was less than ideal. You were attempting to set up a snare trap in the woods, wanting to try and contribute a little bit more. The frustration quickly turned to embarrassment when he snuck up on you. Your feet got caught in your own trap and caused you to trip and fall. 

“Looks like y’caught somethin’.” Daryl attempted to joke, walking past you and deeper into the woods with his crossbow pointed towards the trees. 

You cut yourself free of the poorly made snare and ran to catch up with him. Choosing your words carefully. 

“Daryl, right?” All you got was a grumble in response, “Listen I know you don’t know me or anythin’... But could you teach me how to hunt?” 

“Teach yourself. I ain’t got time for babysittin’.” His response stung a little, harsher than you had hoped it would be. 

You figured you should have expected that, though, the conversation him and Shane had this morning was heated. An argument almost leading to a full on fight. The tension was growing higher and higher as the days dragged on with no signs of Sophia. 

Then the group found out about what was inside the barn.

One day when Rick was out helping Hershel, Shane took it upon himself to break the chains on the barn door. Walker after walker spilled out, being shot down ruthlessly by some members of Rick’s group, while the Greene family cried out for them to stop. Their worst nightmare coming true, as well as Carol’s. 

A little girl limped out, skin grey and beginning to rot. Her hair was matted with leaves, eyes a milky grey color, and a rasping snarl emitting from her. There was a large gash on her shoulder, a bite. It was devastating to see a child fall victim to such a death. But even more so for Carol, coming to realize that each day they restlessly searched, she had already been dead.. 

The safety that the farm provided didn’t last long after that. 

Shane was quickly losing his grip, Dale was killed by a lone walker, and eventually the fields were overrun by walkers. A massive hoard stumbling onto the property, drawn in by the frequent gunfire. 

You had lost quite a few on that night, good people that had helped you come out of your shell, people that didn’t deserve what they got. In all honesty you didn’t think you would have made it out either if it wasn’t for Andrea and Daryl. 

After the fall of the farm, you were all lost. Hershel and his family had lost their home, and the entire group was left to search. 

But you had to bury your sadness for the time being, winter was quickly approaching. The leaves were changing into a crisp orange color, and the wind had a bite to it in the mornings, leaving you shivering as you huddled closer to the fire. Daryl had been kind enough to let you borrow his poncho some nights, insisting you probably needed it more than him. 

Daryl seemed to warm up to you after a while too. He would subtly make sure you ate by leaving a half eaten can of vegetables next to you, or would occasionally sharpen your knife for you after doing his own. It was a kind gesture, letting you know that he was starting to trust you. 

Eventually it got to the point where your group finally ran out of canned food. There were no stores around, and everyone was too cold or tired to go anywhere. So Daryl decided to take you out to the woods, finally going out of his way to teach you how to hunt. 

“Y’know what you’re trackin’?” He asked one day, slowly walking beside you, following a small winding trail in the woods. 

You were quiet for a second, thinking as you analyzed the tracks next to your feet, “Could be a deer, whatever it is, it’s got hooves.” 

“Obviously.” He huffed, resisting the urge to smile when you glared at him. 

“Shut the hell up, man.” A small sigh came from you, “Could be a hog.” You crouched down and moved the leaves out of the way to get a better look, “The prints are close together, if it were a deer they’d be further apart, right?” 

Daryl just shrugged, “You tell me.” 

That’s how your hunts would usually go, Daryl providing frustrating nonanswers as you attempted to close in on your prey. He wasn’t going to babysit you, as he had originally said when you first asked, you had to figure it out yourself. You knew that was the only way you’d be able to learn, even if it was mildly annoying. 

The winter finally started to melt into spring, temperatures rising and falling occasionally until settling into an in between. And soon enough your restless searching came to an end, the high chain link fences surrounding a prison with walkers meandering the expansive field calling your names. A soon to be shelter for your group and many others. 

The fight against Woodbury had been a painful ordeal, with Maggie and Glenn getting taken hostage, and Daryl leaving with his brother. The group was briefly left in shambles, hanging on by a thread as Rick slowly faded away, losing his way after Lori’s untimely death and the birth of her daughter. 

When Daryl left it broke your heart a little. The two of you had bonded over the course of the harsh winter, often seeking each other out as a heat source. Whispering stories of your families filling the silence as the biting wind wrapped itself around you. But you could never blame him for leaving, knowing you would do the same thing if you could. 

The first attack from the Governor was when Daryl finally returned, his mouthy brother in tow. They had rescued Rick on the outskirts of the fence, luckily finding him just in time before he was overpowered. 

It made you happy to see your friend again, a hand squeezing his shoulder before pulling him into a hug. It had been a lot less awkward than you expected, his arms wrapping around your middle and squeezing softly, reassuring you that he was okay. 

“Well, ain’t that just cute.” Merle had teased, pinching his little brother on the cheek. 

But the tragedies were never ending, your group seemed to constantly be one step away from death’s doorstep. 

The Governor decided to make his way back to the prison, armed gunmen following behind him. 

They wanted to execute every last one of you no matter what it took. Your group had laid out traps, pretending to have left as requested, lulling them in with a false hope that you were gone. Until the shrill sound of the prison sirens started, smoke grenades being thrown down at their feet in the darkened hallways. 

The armed militia of men, mothers, and teenagers the Governor recruited had run away in fear, knowing that their fates would be sealed if they stayed any longer. 

As the weeks continued after the attack, things started to look up. That once forgotten positivity slowly makes its way back into your heart, along with a smile as you allow yourself to get to know the former residence of Woodbury. Your community was slowly forming, a home being made out of the prison. 

It was easy to become comfortable. 

And as your fondness grew for Daryl, you remembered what your mother used to tell you. 

“You will find the one when you least expect it.” 

Who knew that the world had to end in order for you to find him. With every soft touch, lingering whisper, and a quick stolen kiss in the shadows of your cell, it grew increasingly more obvious that your mother may have been right. 

Daryl was the only person you felt safe enough to be vulnerable around. His gentleness towards you breaking down the walls around your heart, settling himself deep within it. And you gladly let him. You both decided to keep your relationship a secret. Enjoying the thrill of sneaking around, while also avoiding any teasing remarks that would come from your group. 

You knew that this was Daryl’s first serious relationship, so you wanted to allow him the grace of warming up to the idea. You wanted him to become more comfortable with himself, taking his time with you, soothing any anxious wandering thought he may have. 

But you knew that the group would notice eventually. Hell, they already were. The small teasing remarks being thrown your way would make Daryl stiffen. He would pick at the strings on his denim jacket as he huffed and grumbled something in response. 

“You want me to slip her a note or somethin’?” Carol teased him, nudging her elbow into his side, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” She laughed quietly when he rolled his eyes, “Come on Daryl-” 

She was cut off by someone running up to him, Glenn’s frantic eyes meeting Daryl and Carol’s before quickly sputtering out your name, “I don’t know what happened but-” 

The poor boy could barely get the words out before Daryl ran off towards the cell block. 

You were laying in your cell, blood covering your shirt as your side bled profusely. Hershel was quick to try and stop the bleeding, urging everyone to give him room to work. 

“If you want her to live, get out, now!” 

The blood drained from Daryl’s face as he looked at you. Bruises were beginning to bloom on your face and arms, your nose was bleeding and there was a slash on your cheek. Your boyfriend directed his anger towards one of the new members you had taken on a run, pinning him roughly against the concrete wall with his forearm. 

“The hell happened out there?! Huh?!” Daryl shouted in the scared man’s face, shrinking in on himself as Rick and Maggie tried to pull Daryl off. “Talk!” 

“We-” The man gulped, “We got attacked by a small group…” There were tears in his eyes as he tried to explain, his swollen lip trembling. He didn’t look much better than you did honestly, his eye was almost swollen shut, and there was blood coating his hairline, “She said- said she knew them, some group she was with. I thought they were gonna k-kill us.” He swallowed harshly, “They shot her…”

Daryl swore he could see red. His shoulders heaving as he started to pace, fingers running through his hair as he tried to process what the man had said. His face was hot, body pulsing with anger as he glanced back into your cell to see you lying there motionless. 

He stalked back up towards the man, his gaze hard and threatening as he spoke in a gruff voice, “If she dies, her blood is on your hands.” He pressed his finger hard into the man’s chest, pushing him harshly back into the concrete wall before stalking towards the exit of the prison. 

It took the entire council to talk Daryl out of hunting this group down himself. Carol telling him it was a suicide mission, and he would die if he left like this. Going into a situation blinded by rage was never good for anyone, especially now, with you lying unconscious in your cell. 

Luckily for you the bullet went straight through, and all they had to do was wait for you to wake up. 

Daryl didn’t dare leave your side, a rag gently dabbing across your forehead as he whispered softly to you. Unspoken words that he had wished he had told you sooner, words that only you were allowed to hear him say, something he had never dared utter to another person. Not even his own family. 

“I love you.” 

The time seemed to drag on slowly as he waited, his watchful not leaving you for more than a few seconds. His gentle fingers traced patterns on your skin, ignoring the occasional staring that would come from someone passing by your cell. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the secrecy, not now. 

“That fuckin’ tickles.” He suddenly heard you rasp, your eyes fluttering open and glancing down at his fingers on your forearm. 

Relief washed over Daryl like cool rain on a hot summer's day. His shoulders sagged and he couldn’t help but lean his head down to rest on your arm, a long sigh being released from his lungs. 

“Daryl…” You whispered, making him look at you, “It was my old group.” 

The look on your face was similar to the one you sported when they first found you, terrified, lost, confused. You didn’t know what to do with yourself knowing that not only were they still alive, but a lot closer than you would have liked. 

“I know.” He replied, his hand holding onto yours, “You don’t have t’worry about that right now.” 

Even though you were able to find happiness in the apocalypse, tragedy never ceased to sneak up from behind every corner. And you guessed that it had become easy to forget that life had a cruel sense of humor. 

It always would.

[kisses-for-you]

ice || luke twdg

pairing: luke x fem!reader

summary: Luke has to think quickly when the ice under your feet starts breaking — literally.

w/c: 3.0k

spoiler warning: this fic is very loosely based off of season 2, episode 5 (don't even know if it counts as a spoiler at this point tbh)

══════════════════════════

Crack.

The ice beneath you cracked, leaving you standing on what felt like a ticking time bomb. Luke, Bonnie and Clem all turned in your direction, eyes widening, panic painting their expressions. You froze on the spot, unsure of what your next move was. “Y/N!” Luke called your name, already inching across the ice closer to you. Clem followed suit.

“Don’t-!” you exclaimed, “Don’t come any closer!”

Luke froze, caught between instinct and reason. “Just stay calm, alright? Don’t move,” he said, voice trembling ever so slightly.

Your legs wobbled, breath hitching in your throat as another soft crack echoed beneath your feet. The ice groaned like it was angry. “I know not to move, Luke,” you snapped, trying to keep the fear out of your voice, but your eyes flicked downward anyway. Bad idea. All you saw was a sheet of thinning ice and dark, swirling water underneath.

Bonnie grabbed Clem’s shoulder and pulled her back a bit. “We can’t all crowd her. The ice won’t hold,” she hissed, voice tight with fear.

Luke ignored her. “Y/N, look at me. Hey, hey, eyes up, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle now, like it was just the two of you again, curled up in an old cabin and not about to fall through a frozen lake. “I got you, alright? You’re not gonna fall. Just… reach out your hand, nice and slow.”

“Luke…” you whispered, voice cracking. “If I go under-”

“You’re not,” he said, still stepping forward despite your protests.

“Luke, no!” you shouted, warning him not to come any closer. You glanced at Bonnie and gave her a look, which she seemed to understand. She moved to hold Luke back, grabbing his arm. Bonnie gritted her teeth as she yanked Luke back. “Don’t be stupid, Luke! She told you not to move!” she barked.

Luke fought her grip, his eyes locked on you with desperation burning in them. “I have to get to her! I’m not just gonna stand here and watch her-”

“Luke,” you cut him off, your voice firm despite the terror boiling in your chest. “You can’t save me if we both fall in.”

And then, like a horror movie playing on fast-forward, groaning snarls erupted from behind. More walkers. Of course.

Clementine turned to look behind you. “They’re coming!”

You turned your head just slightly, enough to see silhouettes shambling onto the lake, their limbs stiff from the cold but still deadly. There were too many of them, and you were in the middle of the lake with ice thinner than tissue paper. Perfect. Your heart pounded harder. You knew what had to be done. “Bonnie,” you called. She turned to you, wide-eyed. “Buy me time. Shoot the walkers behind us. Now!”

Clem didn’t wait. She was already raising her gun, her small hands steady despite the situation. One shot cracked through the cold air, echoing across the lake as the first walker dropped. Bonnie followed suit, fumbling slightly but firing with shaky determination. Luke was yelling something, probably your name again, but you barely heard it. Because now the ice was seriously groaning, screaming, practically. And you knew you were running out of time.

You tried to shift your weight slowly, carefully moving one foot toward a thicker part of the ice, eyes flicking around for anything more solid. “Y/N, stop!” Luke’s voice came again.

“I’m not just gonna wait to die, Luke!” you shouted back.

He struggled against Bonnie again, managing to take another half-step closer.

“Luke, I swear to god,” your voice cracked again. “If you fall through, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I don’t care, Y/N!” he yelled. “I’m not losing you!”

A loud boom of a shot rang out, followed by a walker’s gurgling fall. “Three more!” Clem shouted.

You felt the ice shift beneath your foot. A web of cracks spread like lightning beneath you, and a chill that had nothing to do with the cold climbed up your spine. You had seconds. You looked at Luke for what could’ve possibly been the last time. “I love you,” you said, quiet but clear.

His face crumpled. “No, don’t say it like that. You’re gonna make it out of this.”

You gave him a half-smile, bitter and broken and laced with hope. “Then let me do this my way. Just keep them off me.”

Bonnie reloaded. Clem was already aiming at the next walker. Luke stood frozen, eyes wet, lips pressed tight, watching the person he loved on the verge of falling through a grave of ice and water.

And then the ice beneath you gave a snap like a bone breaking, and you dropped, straight into the freezing dark.

One second you were standing on a slippery miracle, the next you were in it, or rather under it. The lake swallowed you whole, dragging you down like it had been waiting all along. Ice water wrapped around your body like chains, shocking the air right out of your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t see. Everything was black and blue and blurry, like the whole world had shattered and you’d fallen straight through the pieces.

Your arms flailed upward instinctively, fighting the weight of your soaked clothes. The surface shimmered just above you, distorted and too far. You reached for it, fingers numb, chest burning. The water clawed at your skin, cutting into it like glass. The pain was instant. Unforgiving. Above, muffled voices and gunshots bled through the ice, barely audible. You heard someone scream your name. It was Luke, you knew it was Luke. And then suddenly, the blurry shimmer above you broke.

A hand plunged through the water like a lifeline sent by the universe.

Luke.

His fingers wrapped around your arm, and then both arms, and then you were yanked, violently, desperately, upward. The ice cracked further under the strain of your combined weight, but Luke didn’t let go. He refused to. His grip was iron. With a strong tug, he pulled you halfway out of the water, breath ragged. “Come on- come on, sweetheart,” he panted, locking eyes with you like he was trying to pull your soul back to the surface too. “Stay with me. Just a little more. I got you.”

Bonnie screamed something behind him. Clementine fired another shot. But none of that mattered. Not to Luke. Not right now. He hauled you out with a roar, slipping to his knees as you crashed onto the cracked ice beside him. You were coughing violently, lips blue, soaked through and shaking uncontrollably. Your vision spun like the world had tilted sideways.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I got you, I got you,” Luke repeated over and over, his arms already wrapped around you, picking you up to continue towards the house.

Your teeth chattered so hard it hurt, but you clung to him like your life depended on it because, honestly, it did. You couldn’t feel your fingers. Your soaked clothes clung to you like icy cement, and your arm was burning from where the ice had sliced into it. Luke didn’t stop moving. “Just a little farther,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, baby, I promise.” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, but he kept going.

You tried to speak, to say you were fine, but your jaw wouldn’t cooperate. Your body felt like it was shutting down, piece by piece, and the pain in your arm was making everything fuzzy.

Bonnie ran ahead, kicking open the door of the unfinished house Arvo had led you to. Luke stumbled inside with you in his arms, lowering you onto the dusty floor. His hands were almost shaking worse than yours, hovering over you like he didn’t know what to do first. You were soaked to the bone, your breaths coming in shallow, wheezy gasps. His eyes flicked from your face to your arm to your chest, and then back to your face again. “Shit. Okay. Okay. We need to warm you up. Now.”

Jane spoke, “I got it.” She disappeared, searching the house for firewood or anything else that would work.

Luke held you in his arms, wrapping them around you to give you any sort of warmth for now, not caring about the fact that he, too, was now getting soaked.

“B-babe?” you asked, voice slurred.

Luke’s head snapped down to you, eyes wide and full of panic. “I’m here. I’m right here, baby,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours like he could will your body heat back just by being close. “You’re okay. I got you. I got you.”

Your eyes fluttered, barely staying open. “So…tired…” you mumbled, and Luke was just about able to make out the words.

“No, no, no, don’t do that, sweetheart, stay with me,” Luke whispered fast, panicked, his arms tightening around you. “You gotta stay awake, alright? Please.” His voice cracked again, more desperate now, like the thought of losing you was physically tearing him apart. “Don’t close your eyes, not yet.”

Kenny was pacing like a caged animal, his boots scraping the wooden floor with every stomp. He kept glancing at you, wrapped up in Luke’s arms, your lips still blue, your body shaking uncontrollably. The silence in the room, save for your gasps and Luke whispering reassurances, was suffocating.

Then, Kenny looked at Arvo. “You son of a bitch. This is your fuckin’ fault!” Kenny accused, choosing to direct his anger at the Russian.

“Kenny. Don’t man,” Mike tried to step in and diffuse the situation.

“Don’t what?” fumed Kenny.

Mike responded, “It’s nobody’s damn fault.”

“The hell it ain’t!”

“He’s just a scared kid. This ain’t on him,” Mike defended Arvo, or rather attempted to do so.

Kenny glanced around the house. “Look at this place. Just a stack of fuckin’ toothpicks. Bet those magical ‘supplies’ are bullshit, too. What? No speaka de English?” Kenny lashed out, shoving Arvo.

You couldn’t do anything, and you could feel Luke tense up next to you at the argument unfolding before you.

Arvo was silent for a few beats, then he spoke, his brows lowering. “Fuck you.”

“You fuckin’ Commie piece of shit.” Kenny punched Arvo square in the face, causing him to drop to the floor.

“Kenny!” Mike called, trying to get him to stop, but to no avail. Those two words had been enough to push Kenny over the edge. Yet Kenny didn’t stop there.

He punched Arvo again, which led to Arvo repeating his earlier words, “Fuck you…”

Kenny paused, and then blow after blow rained down on Arvo. “You mother-” Hit. “Fucker!” Another hit. “Piece of-” Again. “Shit!”

“Stop it!” Mike yelled, trying to grab Kenny, but he shoved him off, eyes crazed with fury.

Your throat burned with every ragged gasp, your body trembling like a leaf in a storm. You could barely lift your head, but you could still hear it. Kenny's fists connecting with skin and bone, the sickening thud of each punch. The crack of knuckles. Arvo’s weak grunts of pain. Mike yelling. The whole room felt like it was spinning, and all you could think was make it stop.

Luke’s arms were still tight around you, his body heat barely cutting through the ice in your bones. His jaw was clenched so tight you thought his teeth might crack. His whole body was stiff — not just from the cold, but from the fight breaking out right in front of him, one he wasn’t getting up to stop because you were still half-conscious in his lap.

Gathering what little energy you had left in your frozen, aching body, you forced out a yell that scraped your throat raw, burning from the effort. "Kenny! Stop!" you rasped, voice louder than you'd thought possible in your state. Everything halted. Kenny’s fist hung midair, his chest heaving, blood smeared across his knuckles. Everyone in the room turned toward you. Even Arvo, blood trickling from his busted lip, blinked in disbelief.

Luke pulled you tighter into his chest. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair. “Don’t push yourself.”

The moment Kenny’s eyes met yours — your blue lips trembling, Luke cradling you like a lifeline, your whole body shivering — his shoulders slumped. “You should be resting,” he muttered.

“I’ll rest when you stop beating the life outta a kid who’s just as scared as the rest of us,” you shot back, though your words slurred from exhaustion and the cold.

The fight drained out of Kenny in one breath. He stared for a beat, fists clenched tight at his sides. Then, finally, he turned away from Arvo with a grunt, wiping the blood from his knuckles. The room stayed tense, thick with the kind of air you could cut with a knife, but the immediate storm passed. Kenny stomped away, muttering under his breath, leaving Arvo coughing weakly on the floor, blood dotting the dusty wood. Mike crouched beside the kid, checking his face for anything too bad while Bonnie hovered awkwardly near the door like she wasn’t sure whether to check on you or stay out of it.

Jane returned then, kicking the door shut with her boot and dropping a bundle of wood on the floor. “Found enough for a fire,” she announced, voice clipped. Her eyes darted to you in Luke’s arms, and even she winced a little. “We need to move fast.”

“Yeah,” Luke breathed, his arms never leaving you. “Help me get her warmed up.”

Jane crouched by the half-busted fireplace, her hands moving quickly as she started stacking a pile of wood. Clem appeared beside her with some matches, jaw set and eyes fierce like always. Luke pressed his lips to your temple, his breath shaky. “Hang in there, baby. They’re getting the fire goin’, you hear me? You’re gonna be okay.” He said it like if he repeated it enough, it’d make it true.

You barely managed a nod, your face buried against his chest. Everything hurt. Every nerve felt raw and frozen, and your arm was still bleeding sluggishly where the ice had bit into it. But you weren’t dead, and right now, that was enough.

“Luke,” Jane called, her voice a little softer now. “Bring her closer.”

He scooped you up without hesitation, carrying you over to the flickering flames Jane and Clem were coaxing to life. “Luke… I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice rough and barely there.

Luke’s head snapped down. “What? What’re you apologisin’ for?”

Your teeth chattered so hard it made your whole skull vibrate, but you still forced the words out. “I didn’t listen… should’ve waited. Should’ve trusted you.”

Luke lowered himself beside the fire with you in his lap, the glow flickering against his face, warm but not nearly enough yet. He tucked you into his chest like he was trying to shield you from everything — the cold, the fear, the guilt, even yourself. “Don’t you dare apologise, Y/N,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “You were trying to survive. You did survive. That’s all that matters.”

“I almost didn’t.” You curled your fingers weakly into his shirt, clinging like he was the only solid thing left in the world.

“But you’re here,” he whispered, his breath catching, arms curling tighter around you. “You’re here with me, and I’m not lettin’ go. Not ever.” He paused, lost in thought for a few moments then spoke, “You scared the shit outta me.”

“Yeah?” you croaked with a ghost of a smirk. “You looked like you were gonna cry.”

He let out a weak, choked laugh, brushing your wet hair back from your forehead. “I still might. Don’t push your luck.”

The fire finally caught strong, casting flickering gold across the room. Clem knelt beside you, handing Luke a rag and motioning toward your arm. “You need to clean that. Fast.”

“Right,” he said, shifting you just slightly so he could get a better look. When he pulled back your sleeve, his stomach clenched at the sight. The ice had sliced deep, raw and angry against your skin. He pressed the cloth gently to it, and you hissed, fingers twitching.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” you breathed. “You’re better than Jane’s first aid.”

“Hey,” Jane said, without looking up from the fire, but her lips twitched. Clem cracked a small smile too, just barely. Even Bonnie let out the tiniest exhale that might’ve been a laugh, though her eyes were still on Arvo, cautious.

As Luke tended to your wound, the room slowly began to stabilise again, tense but not explosive. Kenny sat stiffly in the corner, arms crossed, clearly still stewing, but silent for now. Mike stayed by Arvo, offering quiet words you couldn’t make out. And the fire kept growing, warm enough that your fingers finally started to tingle with pain from the return of circulation.

You leaned your head against Luke’s shoulder, your breath starting to even out. “Luke…”

“Yeah?”

You reached up, fingers clumsy and shaking, and brushed your knuckles along his jaw. “You didn’t have to come after me. You could’ve fallen in too.”

“I had to,” he said instantly, like it wasn’t even a question. “I wasn’t about to stand there and let the person I love drown.”

You blinked at him slowly, your heart kicking weakly in your chest, and despite the pain, despite the cold, despite everything, a tiny smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“You said it,” you whispered.

He frowned. “Said what?”

“You love me.”

Luke’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked away, somewhat sheepish. “Well… yeah. ‘Course I do. Thought that was obvious by this point.”

You let out a soft, raspy laugh and closed your eyes for a second. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so damn much.”

[thefreakydeaky]

After the Thrill is Gone

Part Twelve

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Negan Smith x Reader

Modern AU

Summary: From the first moment you laid eyes on Negan you were inexplicabley drawn to him. The passion between you is hot and only grows more intense the longer you see each other. There is only one problem, you're both married to other people.

Warnings: Dark Fic , Rape/Noncon, Violence, Stalking, Stalker behavior, Smuttyness, Adult Language...

You threw on a pair of checkered black and white leggings and a black muscle tee before you left the house. Leaving Millie in the care of your mother wasn't something you wanted to do, but Negan had left you no choice when he texted you saying you were to meet him at the Sanctuary Motel, alone to talk. You couldn't imagine what he could want to talk about. He had made it clear that he was blackmailing you. What more was there to say?

 You looked at your phone for the room number and parked. Then you walked under the awning toward the room at the end of the building. You knocked twice and the door was opened for you. You walked into the room annoyed and wanting to get back to your regular schedule.

"What? What could you possibly have to say now?" You huffed.

Negan didn't say anything to you. He simply locked the door, chain and all.

You watched him, waiting.

When his eyes met yours your blood seemed to freeze in your veins. His dark expression caused your heart to pick up speed in your chest.

"Negan?" You watched him stalk toward you. You were unnerved by his tense body language, his cold stare. "Negan?" You said again as he came to stand in front of you.

 He had always been taller than you, but this time he seemed to tower over you. He appeared larger.

As you tried to fight the panic taking over your mind his palm struck your cheek.You didn’t react quickly enough to move away. You found yourself looking at the ugly brown rug for a moment as the sharp pain went through you. You gasped in air. You couldn’t believe he had hit you.

 You peered up into his cold gaze, searching for any semblance of the rational civilized man you believed him to be and found nothing of the like. His hand shot out and grasped your throat. He squeezed and you struggled to take in breath. He forced you to walk backwards and when the backs of your knees hit the bed he didn't stop. Negan loomed over you. His hand tightening even more. Your hands pulled at his arm and hand, clawed at his skin desperate for relief. It was useless. He was so much stronger than you.

"Negan!" You tried to cry out hoping to appeal to his saner side. “Please!” You rasped.

He pulled back his arm and slapped you. The pain stung worse than your pride ever could. You felt faint. You scratched at him, at his arm, his shoulder. Your vision was clouded by black spots. Horror and disbelief filled you replacing any thoughts you might have had in what might be your final moments. Then, he let go of you.

You coughed and wheezed. Your hands went to your own throat as if to protect it. You tried to roll onto your side, but he remained above you, his knee between your legs. You felt him pulling roughly at your leggings and took in a burning breath. He whipped the stretchy material down your legs.

You shook your head, still coughing.

"No!" You wheezed.

He freed one of your ankles from your pant leg and underpants. You tried to kick at him, but he further situated himself between your legs with ease. You

pushed at his shoulders as he unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out.

"Stop it! Stop!" You demanded hoarsely.

He jammed his penis inside of you.

You cried out.

He forced his way in as far as he could fit. Seconds passed as breathing heavily he lay over you, his weight pinning you down. He moved his hips back and pushed roughly into you again. Tears began to fall from your eyes rolling down your temples and up into your hair. You hit his chest with your fists. Leaning forward on his knee, he took your wrists in his hands and held them to the bedspread. He hissed between his teeth as he drew back a few inches. Then rammed back into you.

"No! Please! Please!" You begged.

He ignored you. He made you endure the dry friction of his intrusion into your body again and again until the manipulation of your sexual organs produced the liquid previously only created by your arousal.

"You're into this, aren't ya?" He huffed out breathlessly. "I can feel how much you're loving this."

You sobbed, turning your face away from him and shutting your eyes.

He rutted into you. His heavy breathing and the slick sounds made by his actions made you nauseous.

How could this have happened? This man that you thought you knew so well, how could he hurt you this way? Despite what you had learned about him since you ended your relationship, he was a man you had trusted and at times admired. He had hit you. How could he be so cruel? He was hurting you, hurting you. Your nails dug into your palms as you clenched your hands tightly into fists.

Negan pumped into you, his thrusts picking up speed now that you were no longer dry. You groaned in your own personal agony. Your insides burned, but he didn’t care. You could see so clearly that your pain and discomfort meant less than nothing to him. He was taking what he wanted from you and putting you in your place all at once. He thrust into you once more before he came. He didn't bother to pull out, staying deep in your vagina when his cum burst out into you.

You whimpered as he pulled his cock out of you. He let go of your arms. You could hear him adjusting himself, zipping up his jeans.

"If you tell anyone about this, you know what will happen. It will cost you

everything." He warned you. "Look at me."

You didn't open your eyes.

He slapped you.

"I said, Look at me, God Damn it!"

You turned your face back toward him and opened your eyes.

"Now you know the price, for disrespecting me." 

A sob bubbled up from your chest and you covered your mouth with your hands.

"Apologize." He demanded.

You sobbed harder.

He pulled his arm back and now that you had been familiarized with the pain to come, you gasped out, "I'm sorry."

He watched you for a moment.

"I'm sorry." You said again.

"That's all you had to say." He said with a grin. "Was that so hard?" It was like night and day. Suddenly he was back to his usual chipper facade.

You shook your head.

"Now, get yourself cleaned up. You oughta get back to Camilla."

You stood on trembling legs and slowly hobbled to the bathroom to begin the work of putting yourself back together.

•••••••••••••••

You finally had the cook out you had been planning with Lori Grimes. You showed up with potato salad, macaroni and cheese, fries and a fruit salad. Wyatt carted the cooler along, Daryl and Hunter the food and you had Millie to carry. You were greeted by Carl at the door. He told you that his mom was in the kitchen and his Dad was firing up the grill. The boys headed to the back yard and you went to see if Lori needed any help in the kitchen.

"Hey," You hugged for a brief moment. "Need a hand?" You asked, setting Millie down.

Hearing your voice, Lori's daughter, Judith came to the kitchen. She hugged you and immediately took up watching Millie.

Lori asked you to slice up some onion and tomato for the burgers and you focused on the task.

For two weeks You had lived under the constant threat of Negan's fury. The bruises had been the hardest to hide. Make up could only do so much and it wasn't quite cold enough for scarves and turtle necks.You had been picking Wyatt up from practice and acting like everything was fine. It was exhausting to pretend, but what other choice did you have? You were about finished slicing the tomatoes when your phone rang. You were quick to wipe your hands on a kitchen towel and answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hello Sweetheart. How are ya?"

You cringed, but kept your voice light.

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"Missing you."

Your stomach churned. You said what you knew would please him.

"Me too."

"Well then, we should plan our next get away. Don't you think?"

You nodded. Then realized you had done it and murmurred your agreement.

"How about Tuesday morning you and Millie meet me at the park on roland and church?"

Your jaw tightened. The last thing you wanted to do was bring Millie to that monster, but there was nothing you could say that wouldn't sound suspicious to the person in the room with you.

So instead you said, "Yes, that sounds like a plan."

"Great. I'll see you then. Good bye, Doll."

"Goodbye." You said with a heavy heart and placed the phone back into your pocket.

[starshipsofstarlord]

daryl + mouth spitting

warnings. smut, mouth spitting, saliva exchanging, unprotected sex, dom!daryl, sub!reader, swearing, fluff, kinda dom!daryl

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

Rough and calloused hands gripped the edge of your jaw, as the body that they belonged to was atop of you, looming down at your submissive nature with domineering ecstasy. Daryl had driven himself inside of you, stretching the walls of your cunt with his bare cock as he leant down, his hair creating a distorted halo around his head, supporting himself on his knees.

Each speckle of cerulean colour in his eyes had darkened with a shadow of lust, much like when the ravenous sea tide rose into harmful waves beneath a grey and stormy sky. He was the storm, and he was prepared to bring a reckoning to your meek and mortal body. With maleficent intent, his hips clashed like the plates on the planet’s format against your own, as though he was creating an earthquake; your body shattered from the cruel pleasure, that felt like too much yet not enough at the same time.

It was as though a distorting cloud of fog had intercepted your brain, belittling you into nothing more than a pile of bone and flesh, completely at the mercy of the man that was leant over you. He was urged on by the erotic moans that were almost pornographic which slipped without control past your lips, and he became fixated on the way your mouth moved and curved with each sound of pleasure. To subdue the racket that you were creating with the small part of your brain that was still working, your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip, muffling each attempt at repeating his name.

Daryl frowned harshly, his eyes burning into the sight of your front teeth, admiring the small trail of drool that had cascaded past them. His heaving breaths created a warm spot on your flesh, his tone ragged and accent prominent as he spoke through his own ecstasy. “Le’ go of tha’ lip sunshine.” He tapped your chin with his forefinger, grip harshening around your jaw as his mind reeled with nervousness, although he didn’t allow it to show.

He wasn’t certain that you would like what he was about to do, and if you didn’t he vowed to himself silently that he would never do it again. But it was a primal desire that was igniting like a wildfire in his chest, and as his lips trailed over your throat, eyes boring across every inch of your skin and continually rocking into your tight cunt, and feeling how your walls gripped his cock like a succubus’ prowess, he drowned in the sounds that were making your throat soar.

“Fuck.” You moaned simultaneously, making each of you laugh gravelly and breathily from the unexpected communication that matched with each syllable. He leant in closer, running his nose across your cheek, as your eyelids fluttered from the sweet notion. Your hands gripped his shoulders, face still upturned in his grasp as you dared to make eye contact with your lover. “Open yer mouth darlin’.” It was a gentle order, and whilst confused in your blissful pleasure, legs seizing his hips in a strong hold, you did nothing but comply.

And so you opened your lips, tongue peeking out as you closed your mind and waited for whatever action ascended into Daryl. He clenched his jaw, mulling over his decision once more before he decided to proceed with it, before he leant down, tenderly stroking your chin with his thumb as he pursed his lips, allowing a string of saliva to fall and pool in your mouth. His brows rose as his hips slowed from hearing your unexpected moan; he wasn't certain on what reaction he had expected from you, but he felt the anxiety bouldering his shoulders slip away.

"Was tha' okay?" Daryl asked, his hips completely still now with his cock still sheathed inside of you. In response you wiggled your hips, needing to gain some friction from the overbearing fullness that was settled within your clenching walls, batting your lashes up at him as you rubbed your aching clit against the base of his manhood. "Need words baby." He endearingly ogled at you, wanting to do nothing more than to stutter his cock in and out of your pussy however your pleasure was his main concern. It always was, your welfare came long before his arousal, you were his priority, and as hot as it was to watch you swallow his spit and moan, he required verbal reassurance.

"Was more than okay Dar." Your voice was wispy and breathless, a sweet smile sprawled across your lips as your hands ran up and down his biceps. "If you want to be sure, you could always do it again." That was enough for him to proceed, rutting his length within your velvety and slick folds, as he continued to grasp your face in his large hands and trickle his saliva into your open and wide mouth. It was something that he had never given much thought, however from then on with each dazed gaping that you expressed, his mind reeled straight to the image of you drinking up his saliva like his own personal, thirsty whore.

[scftangl]

My face when I look up fanfics of a character I love, that I forget how underrated they are that they only have 5 fanfics that I've already read: