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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 2 years

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Happy 8th of July!

When - we’ve jumped in time to the Prison Era, during that nice interim that for reasons I am making months long.

Genre - fluffy and fun. It’s the Fourth (Eighth) of July! You and Glenn want to make it a good one for people, then you enlist Dary-bear to help. He doesn’t realize it’s to set off fireworks, though. (Was that a double entendre? Might could be...read to find out :D )

Relationships - mangy hick be admitting something big to himself and it’s a huge step for him (Daryl x reader). As always, found family and slight adherence to Bechdel also means we focus on you and the gang! In line with your character, you have yourself an adopted younger brother, now, too.

Pronouns - neutral time, y’all

Perspective - I did the 2nd person you and 3rd person him thing again

TWs - just some casual crude language

Word Count - enough to explain why setting off fireworks is in fact a great idea

Plot references - the water pistols you found in Bad things happen*, you and Daryl discussing holidays in A f----n’ great Christmas, your medical skills (friend, they are increasing), T-Dog and Daryl’s growing friendship as has been hinted at (esp in It was a pragmatic cigarette.)

There are more plot references in the story to be found in the series, so click on this here link: The Masterlist. It’s got what you want, slowpokes :) And as always, feedback is savored greatly.

“This is insane.”

“We’d drive real far away, way passed the three-mile mark—which means no kid walkies, we’ll need to use the police radio. And the booms wouldn’t attract nothing here because we’ll be settin’ them off so far.” You’ve got a whole list of reasons to convince him. “And it’ll help us and the Woodbury group and all the new survivors bond with each other more.”

“No, I meant ‘insane’ as in I love it!”

Yes! You raise your hand for a high-five, which Glenn promptly returns.

“So, which direction?” he asks.

“North.” You point out in the direction of the old radio or maybe utility tower several miles in the distance.

“Okay, I’ll see about clearing out the north guard tower so people can have a better view. Dude, the kids are gonna love this.”

“I hope it makes people smile.”

His smile then changes into an unsure kind of grimace.

“Glenn?”

“What do you think Rick will—are our asses gonna get handed to us for this?”

“No, Rick’ll love it, too!”

Nah, Glenn’s unconvinced.

“I’ll shoulder the blame when—if—it comes to it,” you’re quick to assure him, adding with a shrug, “You know I get a moderate pass when it comes to him.”

After he scrunches up his nose in hesitation, he relaxes and elbows you. “Just don’t mess up the problem shoulder again if you do.”

You check the time on Dale’s watch. “Let’s leave to set it up at 3, Eileen’s appointment will be done by then and you’ll be off-duty. That’ll leave us plenty of time to go back to that house, go to the spots, set them up, and still grab supplies. We can probably get paper goods from the Bojangles near it...”

“...And there’s an office building across the street from the Bojangles. Looked fairly un-window-smashed, should be some good supplies there.”

“That’s perfect, offices tend to have pills and other useful medical stuff in the desk drawers.” Maybe another epinephrine injector to stock up?

“And there’s that crate of soda I forgot to take out of the Chevy last time, so we’ll bring that in, too. Make us look very productive.”

After another high-five, the plan is set, and you two stare out from the guard post.

“I can fill up the water balloons at the stream if I rinse off one of the siphon hoses. Will you do the water pistols?”

“Surely can! If only we had…” your stomach grumbles almost immediately, “Hot dogs.”

“And burgers.”

“And marsh—”

“—Marshmallows!” he finishes for you. Sighs. He’s been wanting rice crispy treats since you’d first met him at the quarry. “Oh my God, I miss marshmallows. Carol told me she once made them from scratch.”

“What?”

“Dude, right? She said she’d show me how, but it uses a stand mixer.”

“Can’t you mix it by hand for her?” you playfully complain.

“It’d be worth it.”

Maggie’s voice pipes in from down the stairwell. “What’d be worth it?”

“Mixin’ homemade marshmallow batter stuff by hand,” you call back.

“It’s ‘mixture,’ Y/N,” Glenn snorts to you.

“Marshmallow batter?” Maggie repeats, now at the top of the stairs.

Glenn is over there and kissing her before you can blink. Giving them privacy (somewhat), you promptly turn your eyes back to the fence and walls around the prison’s perimeter.

“Y/N and I were talking about how Carol said she’d made homemade marshmallows before,” you hear Glenn say.

“Ah, I see.“

She joins you in staring out at the perimeter. Still beaming, her smile at him is so sweet that it’s probably got more sugar than a whole bag’s worth of marshmallows.

And you aren’t jealous by any stretch, that wouldn’t be an accurate word for it. You’re as happy as can be for them, you love them both!

You’re simply feeling that (annoying) longing to have that yourself, too. That must be you still feeling all hopeful following their wedding.

And you’re not slipping into thoughts about your redneck friend, no sir. That would be...just don’t. His friendship is a blessing, you love him as your friend, leave it at that. Besides, he doesn’t have an interest in you that way. He’s probably into Michonne if anyone; they’ve been out tracking a lot, she's gorgeous, and they're both the silent, strong badass type with an underlying softness. Or Carol, they’re buddies.

And you're not slipping into more thoughts about how wonderful his growth as a person has been from how he was when y’all first met at the quarry and how insanely attractive that is, no way.

Caleb is more likely to house an interest, to be honest, and you spend plenty of time with him training. There’s no reason for you to feel disappointed at that prospect. Caleb is a great guy and easy on the eyes, just like Dar—oops, there you go again.

“It’s too bad we haven’t done that inflatable pool idea yet,” Glenn comments, bringing you back topside.

Maggie shakes her head and grins. “We been a tad busy.”

“We got the kiddie pool. It’s passable for soakin’ your feet to cool off,” you offer.

“At least we found those water balloons.” His breath catches when he adds, “And kept that bag of mini water pistols from that day on the highway. They’re finally gonna be used.”

What a day that had been. Screw that day. Sophia, rest in peace, little one. But yeah, at least they were being used now.

Oof, you need to stretch your back and arms. Rounding your shoulders and bowing your head down, you take a deep breath as you feel the tension easing. Next, you stick out your chest and pull your arms back to stretch the other side. It is nice to not have your problem shoulder acting up.

Then, it hits you. “Oh, Mags, since you’re here, this means my shift is over!”

“Why, got big plans?” she teases.

You share a look with Glenn, then peek back at her with a tiny grin. “Might could.”

“What have y’all been up to?”

“Scheming, Mrs. Rhee,” is all you say as you sprint down the stairs and back toward the main hub.

Moses, it’s hot out today. Great for what you have planned later tonight, if the skies stay clear, but absolute torture during the day.

“Hello, Y/N!”

“Hey, Patrick!”

He’s leaning against the cool cement wall in the shade, the water bottle in his hand nearly empty. “Are you off guard duty?”

“Mm, thank goodness. Though, Glenn and I are gonna head out in about two hours for a quick supply run. What about you, y’all done with the pigs?”

“No, I still have to get them fresh water, I just n-needed some water myself.”

Yeah, you were thinking he looks a little queasy. The kid’s prone to getting heatsick.

As you step up next to him, you reach out and feel his forehead just to make sure he feels normal or cool, not too hot. Heat stroke is no joke.

Okay, he still feels damp and clammy, and as gross as that sounds, it’s a good sign.

“Let me refill this for you, you just rest here,” you tell him, having him finish the dregs in his water bottle before you take it. “I don’t want my favorite little brother passin’ out from dehydration, it ain’t fun.”

Overheated as he may be, he reddens a little more. That shy kid gets that way every time you remind him that you consider him family. Pat just looks so much like Shane did when he was a freshman in high school (tall, lanky, messy dark hair, Irish given name) that you couldn’t help but adopt him when you found him.

There are so many new faces as you make your way to the outdoor dining area that you don’t quite have the names down yet.

Well, Eileen and Sra. McLeod are easy because Eileen is pregnant and Mrs. McLeod is the only other resident of advanced age here other than Hershel.

You head to the water cooler and fill the bottle. Sasha is walking over, too, and by the looks of it just finished up clearing walkers at the fence. You reach for a fresh cup and fill it for her.

“Wanna sneak away to the stream to cool off? I’m gonna fill up the water guns in a bit.”

“Water guns?" she repeats before taking a big gulp of the water and sighing. "The stream sounds perfect—hey, thank you for the drink.” She empties her cup in seconds and wipes the sweat off her upper lip and forehead. “But if I have to see one more biter within the next hour, I’ll scream, and you know we’ll see at least one out there.”

“Shower it is, then.”

“I cannot wait. Cold water!” She refills her cup and drinks it all down just as fast. “Oof, I’m smelly, too,” she murmurs to herself when she gets a whiff of her underarms.

You scoop two spoonfuls of sugar into Patrick’s bottle, then add ¼ of a spoonful of salt, cap it, and shake it up.

“You look patriotic, Y/N.”

“It’s the Fourth of July!”

“It is?”

“Eh, the 8th. But we missed the 4th entirely and it rained the past two and a half days. Check it out,” you say, holding up your wrist so she can view the little date dial on Dale’s watch that states Jul 8. Giggling, you add, “Don’t worry, Hershel’s date book confirmed it. You know how I tend to forget to wind this thing.”

“Well, guess I gotta find me some red to put on.” She already had a white t-shirt and jeans on, so she’s ⅔ ready. “Y’all have fireworks planned or something?” she jokes, filling her cup a third time.

You don’t have a response at first. She notices.

She turns her head but keeps her eyes on you. “Y/N?”

“Fireworks would be great, wouldn’t it?”

She’s trying to look friendly but is nervous, it’s plain to see. “But it’s loud. If you set off fireworks near here, I’d whup your ass, tell you what.”

“Ah, but what if it wasn’t near here at all, but was in fact far away?”

She raises her brows. “Oh my Lord. Did you and...” Finger pointed, she figures it out quickly. “Nah, it has to be you and Glenn if it were anybody.”

Your grin must look as awkward and guilty as it feels. “...Wanna help?”

She’s shaking her head but smiling. “Now I know why your group calls you ‘troublemaker’ every so often.”

Nooo, not the nickname. Ugh. “I ain’t a troublemaker,” you mumble, half-serious. Then, taking her by the arm, you start to walk away with Pat’s refilled water bottle. “Come on, I need to get this back to Patrick. I’ll walk you to the doors on the way there.”

“And I’ll go to the stream with you after I shower and decompress a little, if you can wait maybe an hour?”

“Yeah, Eileen’s got her check-up, anyway. How’s 1:45ish?”

“I’ll meet you at our usual table.”

Once you drop her off, you see that Caleb is with Patrick. “Hey, Dr. Subs. I brought him this. Two regular spoonfuls of sugar, about ¼ teaspoon of salt, are those ratios good?”

“They’ll do great for now, he just got sick.”

“Oh, kiddo!”

“It happens, Y/N,” Patrick groans, trying to sound upbeat.

You start to rub his back, mindful of the vomit on the grass near him. “See? We both got kinda weak stomachs, Pat, runs in the family.”

“Relax in your cell for a while, okay?” Caleb instructs. “I want you to lay down for at least 30 minutes before you go back outside in the sun. Have a snack and some more to drink, too.”

“Yes, Dr. Subramanian, sir.”

Caleb snorts. “You keep calling me ‘sir.’ I’m gonna have to start saluting back, man.”

“Sorry, sir.”

The doctor blinks. You hold back a giggle.

Giving you a dry look of amusement, Caleb then reminds you that Eileen is having a checkup and to be washed up and ready for it, after which he escorts Patrick inside.

Meanwhile, you jog to your guard tower to wash up, set the egg timer so you can zone out read for 20 minutes, then pick through your growing stack of medical books. All the midwifery, prenatal development, and obstetric books you take, plus the Merck Manual and your notepad before you jog back down and across the yard to the doors.

Hershel, on his way there also, holds the door for you and for Maggie after he notices her hurrying down to join you. Carol is most likely already there, she always beats y’all to it. You personally may or may not have a minor competition going with her, but dang it if she doesn’t always seem to arrive first.

Fast forward, the check-up is boring and uneventful, just as you all want the check-ups to be; mother is good, baby seems good, all is as it should be.

And it’s 1:45. You need to fill those water guns at the stream with Sasha, grab lunch, then it’ll be time to head to the cars!

Him

Still didn’t find the bastard.

Michonne and him shared their usual disappointed sigh and choice of cuss word before turning around to head home. He lit up a cigarette, as usual. She declined his offer for a puff, as usual.

They had a good thing going, minus the part where they still hadn’t found that psycho pirate sumbitch.

Y/N came a few times a week on days when, you know, there weren’t baby checkups for the pregnant chick or Judith or other medical stuff or regular duties conflicting.

Sometimes, he felt this stupid feeling almost like jealousy when he saw them together, Y/N and the new doc. Which was dumb, because Caleb was teaching Y/N all sorts of important stuff and they’d become friends with each other in the process.

And Y/N and Daryl were good friends and had been for a while, so what was the problem?

Maybe it was more of a want-type of thing, he didn’t know. Not that he was lonely, but sometimes he felt this weird kind of…loneliness.

It’s just—he’d heard Y/N mention once that the doctor was “nice lookin’.” Sure, Caleb was a fair-looking dude, true. Seemed real decent, he’d spent some time with him, too. But...nah, ain’t nothing, I’m being dumb. With a glance up at the sky, he added T-Dog, can it.

Anyway, the days when Y/N came along or when they went on a hunt for food or to forage, those days were always nice. He enjoyed those days a lot. Less quiet, generally, but there were a lot more smiles. It was better with them.

“Why are you lookin’ all happy?” Mich asked. “I’d love a good reason to smile.”

“Just how Y/N reminded us to wear red, white, and blue.” Y/N tried to convince him to wear T-Dog’s red Dawgs shirt. He said he’d put it on it after he got back. Didn’t want to rip it or nothing.

“Well, I’m still loving rockin’ the socks Y/N tossed me.”

He had to snort a little. Yeah, Mich had on one red and one blue sock, both ankle-length and worn over her pants to show them off.

“Heard ’em say it was your favorite holiday?” she said, inspecting something on the edge of her sword-thing. ‘Cabana’ or something, right?

“Yeah, used to be.”

She sheathed it and started walking faster to the car, waving him to pick up the pace, too. “Too bad we can’t hit up the beach, light some sparklers.”

He matched her pace, feeling the disappointment kicking him in the nuts again. “That or light a firecracker up the governor’s ass.”

You

“Mischief managed, mothafucka.” He’s holding his hand up for a victory high-five.

“Mischief managed, mothafucka.” And you return it enthusiastically! “I’ll grab the police radios when I bring Mr. Greene the yarrow. I’ll drop one off with you before Daryl and I leave, yeah?”

“Cool, and Maggie and I will check out the north tower.” Glenn then awkwardly tries to follow this up with, “We’ll, um, c-clean it and stuff.”

Why did that seem a little forced...

You don’t intend to give him a look and blurt out, “Y’all gonna have sex in it, aren’t you?” but you do in fact blurt that out.

And he probably doesn’t mean to make that goofy, I-just-got-caught laugh in response before elbowing you with a very lame, “Shut up, dude.”

Yeah, so either he’s suddenly sunburned or he’s blushing.

Groaning, you call back “Just name your first baby after me!” as you go to check on Judith. She should be waking up soon. Beth has had her most of the day today, she's due for a reprieve.

Time to give baby Lori dinner and bring her to see her mom.

Him

“Nice shirt, Daryl. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you not in a cut-off button-down. You’ll get you a nice farmer’s tan.”

He turned around to wave hi when—lil’ asskicker? Shit, he needed to put out his cigarette ASAP, you can’t just smoke around a baby, that’s a trashy-ass move.

“We’re downwind, you’re cool, man. You’re still working on cuttin’ back.”

“Exactly.” He dug that thing into the dirt until the smoke was gone.

He’d been down to only five a week, ain’t that something? Then…T-Dog and Lori died, and he found his brother again, and then his brother was killed by that asshole, then so was Andrea.

He’d smoked over half a pack and had taken down almost an entire bottle of vodka before Carol and Y/N found him and brought Hershel. That was one hell of a time. Real hell of a morning after, too, fuck.

Anyway, sometimes he shared a smoke with T-Dog at his grave.

Y/N visited the graves every day. Generally, they’d bring Judith while feeding her. They’d sit and just hang out, read, or if the baby was with them they’d do that ‘tummy time’ thing and practice standing.

Carl was usually with them, too, but water balloons and water guns had appeared out of nowhere, so he was having fun with the other kids. Surprising, but good that he was acting like a kid, at least for today.

Call him soft but he loved that shit. Except for the part where seeing ’lil ass-kicker kicked into gear that weird feeling of want. And it got so much damn stronger when she was with Y/N.

Shut up, T-Dog he told the memory in his head.

“Michonne said today you found evidence of somebody havin’ camped out in a car wash?”

“Could’ve been anybody, though.”

“Could’ve been that unhinged, one-eyed sex abuser, too.”

For what he almost did to Maggie, Y/N saw red. Hell, he himself saw red about that kind of shit.

Their voice sounded gentler when they told him, “So don’t lose hope, Daryl, that ain’t like you. We got us a cell with his name on it ready to go.”

That damn feeling twisted in his stomach when they’d placed their hand on his arm.

Okay, maybe he actually did need a long drag from his smoke. He curved to the side, quickly lit up again and took a nice, long inhale…okay, he felt better.

…Actually, he didn’t feel better, he felt more nervy. He put out the cigarette and pulled the neckline of his shirt forward and back to get some damn airflow. It was balls-dripping hot outside.

Then he stole a peek over at Y/N as they began to burp Judith, regretting it almost immediately because that feeling surged through him again. He swallowed, hoping to tamp down the understanding he wasn’t sure if he could put the name to yet.

But he also wanted to talk to them. “Mich and I also checked out a liquor store. Other than peach schnapps and Natty, guess what we found?”

“Capri Suns?” flew out of Y/N’s mouth almost immediately.

He laughed. “Two shotguns and a pistol.”

Their eyebrows went up. “Where in the store were those hidin’?”

“Under the register counter.”

“All three right under the front register?”

“Plus a taser and a knife.”

Making an oo with their mouth (don’t stare at their lips, come on), Y/N tutted, “Pity the soul who tried to rob those guys.”

“Mmhm.”

When they moved to start feeding Judith again, he held out his arms to take her instead.

It’d been like three days since he fed her, and he missed it. That feeling tugged at his chest again, but he didn’t mind it so much, not when he had the little girl in his arms.

“Hey, Daryl? We need to do a thing tonight, okay?”

A thing? “What thing?”

“A late run.”

“Might as well, I guess. What d’you mean by late?”

“We should oughta leave around 8:00…”

“…Why?” Sure he was on board, but what was Y/N up to? He jiggled the bottle in Judith’s mouth to get her to start drinking again, she’d gotten distracted.

“Non-disclosure agreement. Can’t say.”

“Weirdo.”

Their first reaction was a smile, but the next second it was as if it blew away in the breeze. That had been their big brother’s nickname for them. Hearing it from somebody else got to them sometimes.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Troublemaker?”

He got a playful whine out of them for that one. Not their favorite nickname either, even though Dale had been the one to give it to them.

Maybe, maybe he’d bug them with the dumb thing he’d called them that time...“Slowpoke?”

At that one, Y/N cracked up. Leaned forward and kissed the baby’s head, even though they had to lean over him to do it. “Your Uncle Daryl’s a mangy hick.”

You

You’re almost there, you can make out the first set. You lightly shake Daryl’s shoulder and signal for him to pull over.

He stops the bike, puts the kickstand down, and turns his head back to face you as he pulls down his bandana.

“Gonna tell me what we’re doin’ in the middle of nowhere?”

You gotta take off your helmet before anything else, ugh, it’s so hot in there. Then, you click on the radio to let Glenn know you both got there safely.

“Hey, we’re good. Made it,” you murmur into it.

Then, you look up at Daryl and try to look innocent and casual as you explain, “Please drive slow for the next quarter-ish mile, then once we’re at the spot, I’ll tell where to park the bike. We need to do the thing, then head up that way,” you tell him, pointing up toward the radio tower.

Okay, and maybe you might could’ve not actually told him was going on just then, but…you don’t want him to get huffy or not help, is all.

He says nothing, only squints at you.

You copy it.

He grumbles.

And instead of copying that as well like you usually might, you bite your lip and point to the first set of fuses.

Why are you getting all nervous? He’ll be cool with it.

He squints again, but this time because he’s actually trying to see what it is. “Y/N, what is all that?”

Him

Whatever they responded, he couldn’t hear.

“Huh?”

They repeated it.

Fireworks.

Fireworks?

What the fuck. No way.

He kicks down the stand, hops off the bike and stalks over to what they’d gestured to.

Fireworks, holy damned hell. Glenn had to have been in on this, too. This had those two written all over it, hot damn…

“Y/N,” is all he said because he didn’t know what else to say as he slowly steps toward them.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat, reaches them again, and spreads his feet, hands on his hips, fully expecting (and proven correct) that they’d just stand up and mirror his stance.

“Y/N.”

“Daryl.”

And before he could say anything else, they held up their finger and stumbled their way through a whole lot of explaining.

“We’re seven miles away from the prison, so the risk to them is minimal.” They took a deep breath. “The set-ups are every 25 feet heading north, the wicks Glenn and I attached get longer the further back we go. The plan is to light the wicks, run to the next set, so on and so forth. Then, there’s a paved path that leads up to that radio tower where we’re gonna speed for when we’re done, on the bike. But the final set up of fireworks is way far away over there with super long wicks, or fuses, whatever they’re called.”

They then pointed opposite of the utility tower. “That way the final boom will get any walkers drawn towards the noise and lights to get shufflin’ in that direction, away from the tower. That way, after a spell, we,” Y/N pointed from themself to him, “can mosey on home without them following us back like baby ducklings please don’t be mad!”

Well, that was a whole lot at once. Y/N seemed out of breath, they nervous or whatever?

“Don’t be mad, friend, it-it’s your favorite holiday! And our new people need a pick-me-up, you remember how awful it was to lose the quarry, and, and the farm? They just lost their homes and loved ones, so...” Yeah, they were nervous, just look at that awkward grin they’ve got on. And that stutter.

“Ohp, he’s started smiling—hey guys, Dary-bear is smilin’!” they called out next because, yeah, he couldn’t help it. In a softer voice, they checked, “You ain’t mad?”

“I ain’t mad,” he decided to grumble. ‘Decided to grumble’ because on the inside, he was actually so fucking stoked for this, oh my God. Fireworks!

Y/N then got all excited.

That made him feel that same weird but good feeling in his chest, even though he should probably be feeling dread or worry or telling them no or something. But fuck that, it’s the 4th of July!

Well, the 8th.

“Come on, I’ll show you the route, we’ll put to rest any walkers we come across—oh, speak of the devil. I can do it, or would you like to?” There was one stumbling down the road as if on cue.

“I got it,” he said. Y/N still counts them, even after all this time, so he tried to get them first when he could.

He set up a bolt and aimed his crossbow at the geek…done.

They begin to walk to the body to get that bolt back. “Thank you.”

“So, when are we gonna start this thing?” he asked, secretly pumped completely resigned.

“When the lightning bugs come out,” they reply, closing their eyes to pull the bolt out of the skull. “We’ll need it dark enough. Won’t be too much longer.”

You

It’s getting darker and darker.

This is gonna be awesome! Minus the all bugs, and the amount of insect spray you’ve inhaled. Daryl lit up a cigarette to deter them, too.

He taps you on the arm and points. “Hey, firefly over there. We gonna start?”

You click on the police radio and hush to Glenn back at the prison. “Ready.”

That delicious sensation you get while a roller coaster approaches the first drop starts to spread through you as you pull out your matches from your satchel. “Got your lighter handy?”

He rummages through his pocket. Pulls out a Zippo.

And surprising you, he full-on giggles, “Alright, slowpoke, let’s do this!”

Him

The two of them lit the fuses, sprinted toward the next set, lit them, and kept going like that as the booms and whistles sounded from behind them. He felt like a little kid again, it was so…this was fun!

Y/N and Glenn had found a ton of fireworks. And shit, Y/N was fast, he’d forgotten just how quick they could get. He had to work to keep up the pace.

And he was having so much fun as he and Y/N sped off on the motorcycle toward the last setup, the one far in the opposite direction of the radio tower, that he almost didn’t notice their hands wrapped tightly around his waist instead of on his shoulders like they'd always done before.

But once they’d lit the final, very long fuses together and zoomed off toward the radio tower, that their arms were squeezing his middle was suddenly all he could think about.

He liked it.

A lot.

And he wasn’t good about physical touch, most people knew that pretty quick about him. But Y/N doing that didn’t feel like too much. It felt good. Safe. Natural.

T-Dog, shut up, he again thought in his head, tossing a glare up at the sky as he pressed down the kickstand and turned off the motorcycle.

You

After pushing aside this silly desire that popped into your head that told you to keep holding onto him, you hop off his bike and sprint to the radio tower stairs and climb the stairs and ladder as fast as your legs will carry you. You don’t want to miss the finale!

“Pick up the pace, dude, here I thought I was the slowpoke,” you call down to Daryl.

Rushing up the ladder only made your ‘problem’ (read: previously injured and reinjured and now permanently funky) shoulder pinch a little.

At the top, you reach back into your pocket to take out your matches and light the final firework duct-taped to the railing—but you discover that all the excitement’s rendered your hands and fingers tingly and shaking.

“There’s another?” you hear Daryl pant. He takes the last step up the ladder with a groan as he stands up and joins you.

“This one’s to let Glenn know we made it to the top okay. Just havin’ trouble here, my hands are all wobbly.”

“I got ya, let me.”

His hands are shaky, too, you notice. Must be all the excitement catching up to the two of you.

Him

The firework had a very short wick and shot up just a few seconds after he’d lit it.

With a high-pitched hee, the green flare soared before it fizzled into a small shower of sparkles.

He’s just glad he had a Zippo so he could light it in the first place; his hands were shaking.

Shaking! That shit didn’t happen to him.

If he didn’t have what T-Dog told him that time chasing around his thoughts all afternoon, he would think it must’ve been solely due to all the running around and fun.

But when Y/N took his arm and pulled him to the other side of the radio tower and stared expectantly into the distance, he couldn’t help but accept how it felt right.

They’d touched his arm before, he’d casually touched theirs, too, no big deal (anymore). They’d hugged him before. Gave him a massage, hell, he did that for them when they had migraines or when their messed-up shoulder was causing them grief. They even danced together after Glenn and Maggie got hitched.

T-Dog. This is your fault. Merle, you too.

All Merle had asked him in the woods that day was if he’d turned “All soft for the square?” And when he didn’t answer the right way, his big brother had snickered, “Shit, I guess findin’ another prude is what finally done it for you.”

But it’s what T-Dog had said to him that kept poking through his memory.

“You know what the word for it is just as much as I do, man. Now, I ain’t gonna say the word out loud, though, I think that’d be too much for ya. But I’m looking forward to the day you own up to it. Y/N is worth it. And so are you, brother.” Then he’d cracked up and added, “And obviously I’ma want your first kid named after me. Theodore, Theodora, it all works.”

So, he tried not to look at Y/N.

Not that he didn’t want to look at them, but fuck, man, it was getting real. He wasn’t gonna be able to not ignore this much longer.

He wouldn’t even want to ignore it anymore, and that was the scary part.

Until he realized that it didn’t feel scary.

Not when the finale began and Y/N squealed and flung their arm around his shoulder while doing a little victory dance. Not when they stopped jumping and relaxed, moving their arm from around his shoulder to around his back as the last of the fireworks shot up and lit the night sky. Not when his arm wrapped around their shoulder, either, as they watched the lights fizzle away.

Everything about Y/N felt safe.

Cheers began sounding through the police radio on Y/N’s belt along with a louder voice that was Glenn’s, although nothing was coming through clearly with all the background noise.

He could feel Y/N breathing heave up and down against his side, could feel them giggling as the last of the adrenaline wore off. Their head leaned against his chest for a moment, then pulled back.

They unhooked their arm from around him.

He didn’t want that, he wanted them to stay that way.

Fuck.

If he had any balls, now would be when he would kiss them.

You

If you weren’t so careful and if you thought he’d want it, now is when you’d probably kiss him. But, that’s just the adrenaline and the longing talking.

“So, good news,” you stammer, a wide smile stretching across your face. “The house Glenn and I got all that from? There’s more fireworks in there. The folk who lived there must have sold illegal fireworks on the down-low or bought in bulk to stock up or some such,” you babble. Adrenaline.

You angle your head up to see if he’s happy about it and to hear what he thinks, but he’s just looking at you. Not in the eyes, but lower, by your chin? You don’t have soot on your face, do you? You brush off your mouth and chin just in case.

Likewise, you brush away the idea that he was staring at your lips. It’s adrenaline and longing, calm down, Y/N.

“M’sorry, what’d you say?” he asks, then blinking a bunch of times and stepping back.

Oh, got it, he must not have heard you. The booms were noisy, you suppose. Must be tired, too.

When you repeat what you’d said, his eyes crinkle and he makes that shy smile you love where just one corner of his mouth peeks up. “Next year, I want in.”

“Awesome! I almost asked you to help this year, but figured a surprise was better the first time around. You, you told me it was your favorite holiday, and you’ve been havin’ a rough go of things…”

Him

His hands were still tingly. His stomach may have floated away, he wasn’t too sure. He was sure about one thing, though. Finally owning up to it in his head, at least.

That his friend that he loved and was goddamned in love with was standing there smiling and chatting away while he couldn’t seem to find any words at all.

“We can probably go home in like 10 minutes, what do you think? And do you want me to drive us back? You seem a little out of it. You’ve had a long day, I don’t blame you, and I haven’t ridden in like tow weeks, I’d be cool with it. Oh, and we gotta use the secret side entrance, I’m being silly about keepin’ Rick without concrete proof about whodunnit—don’t worry, it’s my head on the chopping block, you and Glenn are safe from the guillotine, as it were.”

After a very deep inhale and a shake of their head while they exhaled, they then apologized. “I think I’m still a little jittery from all the excitement, sorry for gabbin’ on. On that topic, when we get back, I think we should have beer. I,” they shrugged, “I hid three in my tower, one for me, two for you. You said ‘hot dogs, fireworks, and a shit ton of beer’ were what you liked about the Fourth. Two beers ain’t a lot, I know—but you know me, dude, m’kinda a square. I care about you and your liver.”

Y/N then crossed their arms and relaxed on the guardrail. He had enough brains at that moment to lean next to them, arms crossed just the same, his shoulder close to touching theirs.

“What did you and Merle do on the 4th of July? Lots of good ’ole American fun? Your Uncle Jess must’ve been there, too. What about your, um, your father?”

“What about you, with your brother and sisters, foster siblings, nieces and nephews? Must’ve been a damn powwow. Carl was prolly there, too, with Rick and Lori? Grandma Jean?”

He wanted to keep hearing them talk, to look at their smile and not need to think about anything other than Y/N.

He didn’t want anything else other than Y/N.

All the fireworks that night, and the thing that was giving him the biggest thrill was the person standing next to him.

He barely took notice when “Happy 8th of July!” got shouted particularly loud over the police radio next.

Pausing mid-sentence and still smiling bright, Y/N lifted the radio between them. “On three, yeah?”

He wondered what it would be like to kiss them right then and there.

But instead, he nodded and held up three fingers, counting down.

Three, two:

“Happy 8th of July!”

taglist: @spenciepoo338

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luqlustra · 9 months

Text

I’m still working on a bigger piece so I had to doodle Tsura’s Aasimar, Rose at the masquerade.

I love her so much she’s so funny.

#Her encounter with Daryl was like oh so cool I like ghosts #Then she got so shy #Luq art #aversol #Daryl woods #Rose Outway

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dirtydixonsgirl · 10 months

Note

Daryl gets flustered seeing y/n thong when she bends over and needs her now. Established relationship, jealousy, mostly gentle but sub reader, extra points for ass man Daryl. <3

Can you grab this for me?

A/N: love this idea❤️ thanks for requesting, love writing for you all!

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, yeah yeah yeah 18+

“Daryl!” You yell out, your voice echoing through the empty abandoned house.

You waited, arms reaching, standing on your tippy toes trying to reach a can of food in the cabinet of the house you and Daryl were searching. The counter was filled with trash and covered in dust leaving no room for you to be able to jump onto the counter in your usual manner in times like this.

“Daryl!” You call out once more, irritation lacing your tone this time.

You hear a thump from the upstairs before he comes flying down the steps to your rescue, fear suddenly coursing through him. He stops abruptly, watching you try to jump up to reach something in the cabniet, just hoping your finger tips would be able to touch it.

He couldn’t help but notice everytime you jumped your shirt rose up slightly, revealing the straps of a red thong, siting just above the hem of your jeans on your hips, his face instantly curling up into a smirk, your head snaps back to his, you were frustrated, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me or are you going to help me grab this?” You snap, wondering why a shit eating grin was covering his face.

Daryl snorts at your attitude. Suddenly feeling the blood from his cheeks rush to his lap at the thought of you bent over that counter in that very sexy red thong.

“Oh, I’ll help ya grab somethin’.” He smirks, slapping your ass and giving it a slight squeeze emitting a small yelp out of you.

“Daryl!” You swat at him.

He effortlessly reaches up grabbing the can, handing it to you. Your cheeks red at his actions. You mumble a small thank you suddenly feeling shy as you lean down, pulling your bag from beside the counter and putting the food in it.

Once again, in Daryls favor you flash him with your thong once more.

“How many times ya gonna flash me with these?” He asks, his fingers catching the string of them and letting it snap back against your skin. “You been wearin’ these all day?”

You try to stand up but his hands instantly push your back down, leaving you bent over in front of him. Your breathing hitches when a pair of warm hands catches your hips, touching the exposed skin from your shirt raising up.

“Y-yes.” You stutter suddenly feeling stupid, you didn’t even realize that you have most likely been flashing people all day,

The jealously was surging over Daryl. He kept thinking about everytime you bent over who was looking at you and who saw what was only his to see? The thought made him want to go home and beat every man at Alexandria bloody.

“M’ the only one who gets ta see this.” He rubs his hands down to your ass, smacking it again. “Ain’t that right?”

“Yes, Daryl.” You breathe. “All yours.”

Daryl knew exactly how to get you to fall apart in his hands, sometimes with a single touch. It was one of things you hated most about your relationship with him, how at anytime, anywhere, you were ready for him.

His fingertips softly ghosting your skin, he runs them over your sides to your stomach, unbuttoning your jeans.

“Daryl,” you stop him, grabbing his wrist. “What if someone sees? Rick and Michonne-“

“Don’t care.” He says unphased. “Need ya, so bad.”

You slowly let go of him with shaky hands, you shiver against his touch, revealing in it. Your eyes close as his hand dips into your jeans, his finger tips running up and down the already wet thinned cloth of your thong.

“Shit, Y/N.” He grunts. “Yer already so wet and I ain’t even done nothing to ya.”

You blush. “Always ready for you, Dar.”

You could feel his erection against your ass making you more needy. You try to wiggle onto to him but his hand stops you smacking you harshly, you whimper.

“Needy little slut ain’t ya?” He chuckles.

“I need you, please.” You pant.

Oh, he needed you more. He thought. Your clit was now throbbing, you were basically dripping, you knew by now your panties were drenched. You were aching for him in every way.

His finger dips inside your thongs, you gasp as his finger tip runs up and down your wet slit, easily moving. He’s teases your enterance making you groan in frustration.

“Don’t be a tease.” You breathe, voice hoarse and needy.

“Oh like how you been today?”

Your head falls in pleasure as he gives in, easing one thick finger inside you, stretching you out. He continuously hits your sweet spot deep inside you. Your hips buck back to him, causing him to add another finger, you moan. Your thighs start to shake as your body starts reaching your climax, not being able to hold yourself up much longer.

“Daryl, I-I’m-“ you moan, your walls convulsing around him. “Gonna cum.”

Daryl smirks, suddenly his hand come out of your pants, fingers covered in your arousal. You clench around nothing, still throbbing. Aggravation floods your body. Your body turns to face him quickly, pushing his shoulders back, he doesn’t even budge.

“What the fuck was that for?” You snap.

“Not coming unless it’s on my cock, pretty thing.” He says, pulling you back into him. “Only I can take care of ya pretty little pussy, remember that.”

Your anger fades away as his lips attack your neck, softy and gently. You quickly break the kiss to yank your pants off, he unbottons his quickly. His hands go underneath your thighs signaling you to jump which you do, he catches you with ease, backing you up against the closest wall.

Your throw your arms around his neck as he kisses your neck again, he grabs his erection putting it against your soaking wet entrance, his tip rubbing up and down your slit, you whimper, your grasp tightening on him.

“Ready?” He whispers and you nod.

He flexes his hips, his erection sliding into you, filling you up. He grunts as he bottoms out, you gasp, enjoying the feeling of him stretching you out as pleasure shoots across your body.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his rythym speeding up. “Miss ya tight little pussy so much.”

“Ah,” you moan, burying your face into his warm neck.

His hips continue to rock into you, pushing you harder up against the wall. The wet sounds filling the air. He felt amazing in you causing you to throw your head back against the wall.

“Dar,” you whimper. “You feel so g-good.”

“Yeah baby?” He says through clenched teeth.

Your legs wrap around him tighter, you could’ve sworn you felt him in your belly. His breathing labored, you clench around him, pulsing. Your hands twist in his hair causing him to groan in pleasure. You snap, your climax coating him as he releases inside you.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, breathing heavily into your neck. “Fucking hell.”

“That was,” you start, your breathing matching his. “That was amazing.”

He pulls out, leaving you empty, missing the feel of him. He sets you down and your legs wobble a bit and he catches you quickly, steadying you. You giggle as you hold onto his wrists.

“Can ya walk?” He grins, full of pride.

“What can I say, Dixon? It’s all your fault.” You smile.

You slip your pants back on, along with your thong, feeling the sweet stickiness from his climax dripping out of you, you groan, the sticky feeling between your thighs being too much.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re dripping out of me, literally.”

He laughs pulling you into him, sweetly kissing your lips and tapping your butt before releasing you.

“What can I say? It’s all your fault.”

#daryl dixon #norman reedus #daryl dixon imagine #twd #twd imagine #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon twd #rick grimes #daryl dixon x female reader #smut #daryl dixon x reader #norman reedus smut #smutty #daryldixon #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #twd smut

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gutsby · 6 months

Text

Walker Bait

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Warnings: NSFW. Protected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Hatefucking, facefucking, and lots of dirty talk, leaning heavy on the “enemies” in the enemies-to-lovers trope. Mentions of a variety of sex toys and other filthy materials, including a blueberry-flavored condom and a walker wearing nipple clamps. 6.5k words.

“All ya gotta do is suck it.”

You were eye-level with the length of it now, all but staring down the barrel of the gun, so to speak. You wetted your lips, shifted uncomfortably on your knees. Then, almost reluctantly, you looked up at Daryl.

“What if it gets in my mouth?”

“It won’t.”

Daryl gripped the base of it with a sturdy hand and guided it closer to your mouth. You made a face as if to recoil, but Daryl was adamant. Insistent. One more false start and he’d probably just shove the thing down your throat. A man of many virtues he may have been, but patience was not among them.

“If I’d known you’d take this long I would’ve done it myself,” he scoffed.

You had just begun parting your lips to allow him entry, but on hearing this, you forced them shut, frowned, and opened them again just to retort:

“Why don’t you, then?! You wanna suck this shit so bad, be my guest.” You were already wobbling back onto your feet, wiping the dirt off your jeans and watching Daryl’s face turn even redder.

“‘Cause I’m teachin’ you, dipshit,” he snapped, “Can’t even tie yer fuckin’ shoes, but I figured ya maybe could siphon gas this once. My bad.”

And there it was: smug, shitstain Daryl ready to jump down your throat with another show of superiority. You couldn’t track, couldn’t forage, couldn’t hunt, couldn’t suck the gasoline out of a car or even put the hose in your mouth. You were useless in his eyes, and he was never shy to make sure you knew it. He looked you over once and hardly seemed to see you at all—just narrowed his eyes and flung the plastic tube in your direction.

Because Rick and all the rest of them were home, and you were here, scoping out the remnants of a seedy one stoplight town miles away, Daryl felt far more at liberty to act like a dick. He would’ve rather anyone been by his side but you, and he let you know as much, but somehow, in some sick and absurd twist of fate, you had been obliged to tag along. You sensed it was because you were the newest addition to Alexandria. And, quite frankly, because you sucked at every other task you’d been given, sucking gas out of cars was all that was left for you to do.

So easy a walker with a dislodged jaw could’ve done it. But you couldn’t. And Daryl despised you for it.

“Figure it out,” he muttered, turning on his heels to stalk off.

You weren’t sure if it was the irate glint in his eyes or the air of condescension in his tone, but you were floored. He’d made two, maybe three steps in the opposite direction when he felt something strike the black leather on his back. He turned again, dropped his gaze to the ground, and saw the plastic hose at his feet. When he looked back up, you were quick to trail behind, stomping past him without a second glance.

“Suck it yourself, asshole.” And you couldn’t help it; you gave him the finger over your shoulder.

You didn’t need eyes in the back of your head to see the rancid, sullen scowl plastered flat across Daryl’s face. Didn’t need ultrasonic hearing to catch him curse beneath his breath and kick something at his feet. You just kept walking in the other direction and hoped with everything you had he wouldn’t follow.

When you’d made it a ways down the street and Daryl hadn’t bothered to chase after you, you breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could raid the mini mart and loot canned foods to his heart’s content or prove himself useful in fifty other ways, and you could just explore.

From the looks of it, you were at the heart of this defunct podunk town and had virtually every amenity at your fingertips.

A barbershop on your right and a dive bar on your left, two boutiques with their windows all busted in, an unsightly patch of grass that once passed as a park, and one lone Texaco, almost treacherous in the light of day as it stood without a single car stationed at its pumps. “NO WAY OUT” emblazoned on a makeshift placard and half a dozen bodies littering the sidewalk before you.

Nothing quite like that small town Southern charm.

Against your better judgment, you went fishing in your back pocket for a few familiar friends to lift your spirits. First, the near-spent package of Virginia Slims, then the lighter, then your Walkman and headphones. An admittedly lethal combination for any would-be survivor of the apocalypse—limiting your hearing and crippling your lungs was no way to live in a world like this, Carol always warned before she snatched both culprits from your hands—but you didn’t care today. You were most of the way down the street and turning down a side avenue; if any walkers were in the vicinity, you figured you would’ve heard them moaning and groaning and dragging their boney asses behind you long before. By all appearances, you and Daryl were totally alone.

You thumbed one miniature flame into view and brought it close to the cigarette you had clamped between your teeth. Then you deposited the lighter back in your pocket, snapped your headset over your ears, and fiddled with the portable cassette player until the strains of some archaic Molly Hatchet tune went spiraling in your ears—“Bounty Hunter,” by the sounds of it.

You were walking at an easy pace now. Took a left off Main and strolled quietly onto Sheppard Street, careful to dodge every bottle, beer can, and rotting body you could. You took a drag and ogled some of the saddest storefronts you’d ever seen. Windows all blown to bits and insides looking like shit as every place appeared to be looted.

It wasn’t until you’d walked a little longer and made your way past the epicenter of the havoc that you saw any spot worth looking at. Where it seemed every other place for food, clothes, firearms, or frozen yogurt along this stretch of road was ransacked and dilapidated, you noticed one building that wasn’t.

In fact, it stopped you dead in your tracks and warranted a triple take to ensure you were seeing things properly the first time you saw it. Blinking with disbelief in the face of this scorching Georgia heat, came your first, unfathomable, ‘What the fuck?’

Juicy Peach Pleasure Shop—Take a bite inside!

There were some sick, twisted people in this world before the turn, that was for sure.

You made a beeline for the entrance.

Admittedly, you’d seen your fair share of funky ass sex shops in your day, but this one took the cake. All shuttered up and seemingly untouched since the world first went to shit—because who in their right mind was robbing a pocket pussy emporium in the midst of the apocalypse?—the store was in surprisingly pristine condition.

The inside was probably tiny and grimy and crawling with walkers—but it was also now your only hope to make yourself useful to the Alexandria community, you thought.

You quickly came to realize that this store would allow you to supply a truckload of sex toys and offer every adult back home the opportunity at a kinkier recreational outlet. With a stockpile of vibrators, ball gags, and anal beads alike, you could finally show them you were good for something. Maybe even worth keeping around, in spite of your subpar siphoning skills and the fact that you’d scared off nearly every animal Daryl attempted to hunt.

You’d be a Juicy Peach pioneer, and one that was likely to meet with tremendous success, if you could just…get the damn door open.

You gave the handle several violent shakes and thrust your body against the door, to no avail.

The sun’s rays were relentless on your back and already bringing a sheen of sweat to your skin, try as you might to keep your cool. You fooled around a few more seconds with the knob, found it hopelessly stuck in its position, and were about ready to abandon the task altogether when you felt the glass begin to give way. Instead of pushing the door, all you had to do was pull it open.

If you were around anyone else but yourself and the dead, you probably would’ve blushed. Would’ve taken a peek at your surroundings, perhaps lifted one half of your headset off your ears and tried to listen to see if anyone had heard. But no, you forged ahead, as careless and oblivious as you were engrossed in the present song’s guitar solo.

Should you have bothered to do either, you likely would’ve heard a set of feet sprinting in your direction and seen someone reaching for you in a hurry. Would’ve caught a glimpse of the stranger’s left hand before it clamped over your mouth or the right as it closed around your own on the door handle and yanked it back. The next thing you knew, you were being hauled inside and held tight against someone’s body, all but immobile in their grip and struggling to gasp for air.

Then a breath, hot on your ear as the person pulled you closer:

“Herd. Don’t move.”

You tensed in Daryl’s arms and watched the scene unfold before you. Just outside the store’s boarded windows, a super-sized group of geeks began to descend on the street where you’d just been standing. Seeing them shuffle, stumble, groan, and hiss their way down, you shuddered to think you hadn’t heard them at all—and would have been overrun in a minute if Daryl hadn’t intervened just then.

The man’s hand remained glued to your mouth, sensing you might shriek as you watched the horde grow in size.

Slowly, he backed you away from the door and started looking around.

“Daryl, I—” you began in a whisper, turning around to face him.

Before you could continue, a half-rotted corpse rose from the floor a few feet away and started toward you and Daryl. You fought your first inclination to scream, remembering your current predicament, and opted instead for a frantic, furious wave of your arm as you pointed behind Daryl.

The man leveled his crossbow in a blink and had a bolt lodged in the walker’s skull even faster. You watched the body crumple to the ground, just before another one of its companions came rounding the corner.

This time, Daryl slipped his dagger from the sheath on his belt and in a single, swift maneuver, drove the blade through the walker’s temple. You watched with widened, paralyzed eyes as this one, too, dropped fast to the floor. But when it did, you still couldn’t bring yourself to displace your gaze, for something bizarre had snagged your attention.

“What in the everliving fuck is tha’?” Daryl breathed, eyes stuck to the same sight as yours.

That rank, decayed biter had a pair of nipple clamps fastened to its chest.

Just as your mind raced to furnish the man with an answer, Daryl took a sweeping look around the place and scrunched his nose.

“Is this—”

“Daryl, I can explain—”

You watched the anger flare in his eyes as he turned.

“You got us trapped in a sex shop?” Daryl snarled.

Though neither of you were in a position to speak too far above a whisper with the walkers outside, it was painfully obvious that your partner was yearning to yell in your face. In an instant, he got within an inch of it and stood towering over you, seething between gritted teeth:

“Risked our lives for a fuckin’ vibrator?”

“How was I supposed to know?” you whispered back, gesturing wildly to the window behind you.

Daryl’s fingers curled into fists, and for a second it seemed like one was primed to strike the nearest surface, but he stopped. Unclenched his hands and simply glared down at you.

“Ain’t you a peach,” he muttered, low and slow, “Ain’t you a goddamn useless little peach, huh?”

He took off in the other direction, probably in search of a back exit.

You stood and silently scolded yourself for feeling even the slightest inkling of arousal at the last, sarcasm-soaked insult. What the hell was wrong with you?

You hung back another minute or so and weren’t surprised in the least when you heard Daryl groan out loud, coming to find the back door barricaded all the way to the ceiling.

“Sonovabitch!”

Taking one, apprehensive look out the window, you observed the herd hadn’t budged. They were moving and milling about, to be sure, but the bulk of them hadn’t wavered from the shop’s front stoop, leaving you and Daryl prisoners within these four walls.

You flinched when one of the walkers bumped its near-fleshless head against the glass. Silently, warily, you backed away and hoped it wouldn’t stray any further.

At length, none of them did.

Nearly an hour had passed before you could tear yourself away from the window, watching each doe-eyed, groaning monster outside like your life depended on it. Then Daryl came staggering back, all but drenched in sweat and slashed every which way down his arms. He’d been prying whatever stuff he could get from the exit, only to find that the door itself had been boarded up and jammed shut. The herd hadn’t stirred.

Daryl had barely been able to look at you when he demanded you start looking—for batteries, rope, whatever the hell you could find in this “depraved place.” You’d gone searching without another word, and the pair of you had been radio silent ever since. Combing over aisles of porn flicks and cock pumps and pretending like this wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing either of you had ever had to do.

When the opportunity to slip somewhere else first presented itself, you took it.

Toward the back of the store, you found a set of changing rooms. All cluttered with boxes and other junk but nevertheless a potential treasure trove for supplies. You eased your way in.

To your relief, there were only two half-rotted walkers making their rounds amongst the wreckage. You knifed them both and went calmly about your business.

And for awhile, it was just that—business. You were ecstatic to find two pairs of boxcutters, a dozen rolls of tape, and more rope than you knew what to do with. You had loaded your arms chock-full of finds, were just about to step outside to show Daryl, when a clothes rack caught your eye.

You turned your head and stopped to take in the sight.

On a single, flimsy hanger at the center of the shelf, there dangled a baby pink lace lingerie set.

You hadn’t seen anything that tantalizing, lithe, and sheer in a long, long time. You were practically drawn to it, feeling your feet shuffle clumsily in its direction and your arms drop every last item they held. Surely, then, you embodied everything a Victoria’s Secret salesman could’ve dreamed—so singularly focused on that stupid piece of clothing that you were literally stepping over dead bodies to get there.

If Daryl could see you then, he’d probably slap you upside the head.

“This ain’t a fashion show, sweetheart, we got the dead beatin’ down our front door!” You could almost hear him now.

Almost. Any hypothetical harangue from your supply run partner and every other pressing concern, it seemed, was lost on you now. All you knew was lace embroidery and plunging necklines, satin fabrics and fuck-me mesh open gussets.

You were clothed in the garment quicker than you could say, ‘Bad idea.’ You did a spin in the mirror.

A thousand dumb ideas danced before your mind’s eye as you placed your hands on your hips, moved your shoulders in sync, gave your ass a little shake. It was ridiculous, but you just hadn’t thought of yourself that way in so long; it was like you were staring at a brand new reflection. Years in a noxious, nightmarish world like the one you currently inhabited would do that. Turn a person into a bloodless stoic, so focused on the means of survival that they couldn’t even say a simple—

“What the fuck?!”

Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw Daryl’s form appear in the corner of the mirror. You quickly covered your tits and turned back to look at him.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Daryl, I—”

“You off yer fuckin’ rocker or sumn’?” Daryl spat, striding right over to you, “We got a whole pack of walkers champin’ at the bit to get us outside, and yer in here playin’ dress up?!”

Daryl clenched his jaw and shoved the clothes rack to the side, sending it tumbling over the two dead walkers with a crash. You hugged your arms to your chest even tighter.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak again, to try and apologize once more, Daryl shoved a thick, angry finger in your face.

“If you go and get yer dumbass devoured by a dildo-wielding geek, tha’s on you. I ain’t fuckin’ comin’ ta save ya no more.”

Damn if the man didn’t have a way with words, even when he was fuming out the ears.

You glanced down and immediately wished you hadn’t. Or had, sooner. Your blue-eyed nemesis was currently sporting the largest hard-on you thought you’d ever seen.

Daryl looked down too and seemed only to grow in his anger, if that were even possible, as it appeared he was infuriated at the sight below him. Enraged with his own erection.

You almost would’ve found this predicament amusing if you weren’t still afraid Daryl might throw you over his shoulder and feed you to the herd outside. Deciding to play it safe, you kept your mouth shut and stood with your hands clasped in front of you. Eyed the outline of his dick only once. Okay, maybe twice.

When your eyes traveled back up to his face in a nervous gaze, you found that Daryl was glaring at you. A hand hovered uncertainly above his belt buckle.

“Fuck it.” You heard him say under his breath before suddenly reaching for you.

Your whole body tensed in his calloused hands as he shoved you toward the door, gripping your wrists behind your back and thrusting you ahead.

You dug your heels into the floor, uselessly, trying to stop your vicious path past the changing rooms and into the store. Your eyes widened as you saw an even larger horde amassed beyond the front door, and for several, fleeting seconds you seriously thought that Daryl might throw you out there.

“Daryl, please,” you wailed, thrashing against him, “I didn’t mean it, I was being stupid—you don’t have to do this!”

At the center of the store, Daryl stopped. Spun you around shortly to face him.

“What?”

“Don’t feed me to the herd, please, I’m begging you.” Your stomach clenched with fear.

Daryl’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. If you weren’t so goddamn terrified, you would’ve detected that tiny change was in fact amusement.

“‘M not gon’ feed you to the walkers, girl,” he grunted, all matter-of-fact. Then, just as calmly, “‘M gonna fuck you over this counter.”

Oh.

It seemed your World War Z nightmare-fantasy had taken a pornographic turn. The meaning of his words hardly registered in your brain before he shuttled you off to the cashier’s counter at the front of the store. Before you knew it, you were lying flat on a cold, glass surface and staring straight out into a sea of undead faces a few yards ahead. You swallowed.

You flinched with another grating sensation, this time at your wrists.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw Daryl binding your hands together behind your back. Where he had obtained the black BDSM rope in the time it had taken him to bring you here was beyond you.

“Not to be a Debbie Downer here or anything, but isn’t this...kind of…dangerous?” you asked, jerking your head in the direction of the walkers outside the window.

“Don’t care.” Daryl pulled the rope even tighter.

“But they can hear us if they’re right outside.”

From your vantage point, it seemed Daryl was ready to yank your hair and pound you senseless. Instead, he smiled. Gave your ass a light pat.

“Then you’d be wise to keep tha’ pretty mouth of yours shut while I’m fuckin’ ya, sunshine.”

Daryl pressed one quick kiss on your shoulder before bounding off in the other direction. You shimmied helplessly against your restraints as you tried to flip yourself over.

“You’re sick, Dixon. You’re a sick son of a bitch, I hope you know that,” you whisper-shouted after him. You doubt he heard you but had a sneaking suspicion he’d already seen the soaked-through spot between your legs to disprove it even if he had. You pressed your head to the counter and cursed your primal instincts for turning your lower half into an uncomely mess every time a man twice your age said something mean to you.

You would’ve liked to have leaned back—or, rather, forward—and said a big ‘fuck you’ to Molly Hatchet as well for getting you into this bind in the first place, were it not for the sound of Daryl’s footsteps returning.

“Listen, I learned my lesson, Dar. If you could just untie me, we would be a lot better off figuring out a way to escape this place than—”

You yelped as something smacked your ass. It wasn’t Daryl’s hand.

“Ouch!” You strained against the rope once more, only succeeding in wiggling your ass before Daryl’s pleasantly occupied eyes.

“C’mon now, it ain’t tha’ bad, honey. Stuff’s meant to feel good,” he chided. Another strike on your ass check punctuated his words.

He was right; it didn’t really hurt. Just felt strange, all bent over and exposed before him like that. You glanced back and saw the crop in his hands, the smug look on his face, and for a second, you did feel a twinge of pleasure as you imagined him doing much more.

You whimpered when he spanked you again—this time, with the flattened palm of his hand.

“Better?” Daryl quipped, grinning.

The second you nodded your head, you heard the sound of the crop clatter to the floor behind you. Daryl swiftly took your ass in both hands and started kneading the skin. Really digging his fingers into the flesh and sending shockwaves trembling all through your body.

“Rick’s the only reason yer here, y’know,” Daryl said behind you. You yelped when he smacked your ass again, and you curled your toes into the linoleum below.

The man rubbed the spot as soon as he’d struck it, palming your skin like it was the softest, smoothest thing he’d ever felt.

“Thinks you’d be an asset.” Another slap on your rear.

“I told him he don’t know wha’ the fuck he’s talkin’ ‘bout. Said you were ‘bout as useful as a one-legged man in an ass-kickin’ contest.”

You fought back a chuckle. That was pretty good.

And when he spanked your ass another time, the sting didn’t hurt as much. You propped your chin on the surface beneath you, pursed your lips, and actually suppressed the threat of a moan.

“I said ya were a liability,” Daryl continued, “Didn’t know no fuckin’ manners neither.”

At that, you were tempted to speak, almost wanting to defend yourself against his baseless accusations. But Daryl stopped that from happening, as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and arched your back up to meet his face, half-standing.

“I think ya need me ta teach ya some manners, how ‘bout tha’?” he growled in your ear.

If the warmth pooling between your legs couldn’t answer for you, you decided words would have to do. You nodded and said, “Uh-huh.”

Daryl threw you back onto the counter and gave your ass another brutal smack.

“‘Uh-huh’ don’t sound too polite to me, sugar,” he said sharply, cruelly. He didn’t soothe your backside with the pulse of his fingers and stood back from you instead.

“Yes...y-yes sir,” you stammered out, legs trembling underneath you.

Your feet were slightly raised, all but standing on tip-toes to keep your body propped up against the counter, and you were suddenly aware that your cunt was plainly exposed. The open gusset in your lacy attire seemed to have spread even further, swelling with the size of your now-engorged folds and probably displaying yourself to Daryl in all the worst ways.

The man groaned behind you.

You sensed some fabric shuffle, the clink of a belt come undone, and finally a tongue—pressed flat against you and licking a stripe up your oozing heat.

You shuddered forward on the tabletop and let out a lewd-sounding squeal. Your eyes widened at the sight ahead of you as you swore you could’ve seen a walker turn their rotted head in your direction outside. Daryl clamped a hand over your mouth.

“Now tha’s— what we’re not gonna do,” he whispered through gritted teeth, “We’re not gonna make one fuckin’ sound so the geeks out there can stay right where they are. Ya hear me?”

Daryl’s hand moved to your throat and pinched it in a vicious grip when you didn’t answer him.

“Ya hear me?”

You managed one strangled ‘Yes sir’ and left your lips parted as Daryl placed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on them. He stepped back again.

You heard some other quiet stirrings behind you as Daryl fiddled with something above your back. Frankly, you were already too lust-struck and cum-hungry to care, breathing out in soft, gentle puffs of air as you tried to rein in your reeling mind. You watched the walkers for a minute, tried to ground yourself in the unsavory reality all around you—the precarious position you were currently standing in, as one stray stumble of one of those undead shitheads might veritably mean the end of you and Daryl’s lives as you knew it—and you sighed. Scanned your eyes across the sea of wretched, fleshy heads and wanted to hurl.

At present, Daryl stroked your lower back with the tips of his fingers.

“Y’know, it’s been real tough ta find anything useful here,” he mused aloud, running his touch over your skin and sending a flurry of goosebumps in its path, “Ain’t nothin’ worth keepin’ here, really—‘cept maybe some dirty magazines.”

You internally rolled your eyes. Good for you, Daryl.

Then he lifted his hand and dragged it down a little further, causing you to clench your legs and snag your bottom lip between your teeth.

“But I got curious, see…” Daryl’s forefinger followed the contour of your ass and slid down between your cheeks, traveling lazily ‘til he reached your aching core. He sank that same finger deep between your folds and circled around in your heat, eliciting a strained whimper above as he gathered your juices.

“Daryl—” you whined.

“Don’t interrupt,” Daryl growled, slapping your pussy.

You winced and let out the smallest of moans. Daryl smirked.

“I found some stuff,” he resumed, “Might actually make this little trip worthwhile.”

You panted in your current position, hardly hearing a word he said.

When he lifted something else to your heat, you did quickly sense that his wasn’t any part of his hand, or even his cock. You squirmed in place but didn’t speak.

“Found batteries,” Daryl declared, as though it were the grandest discovery he’d ever made.

“Ya know what batteries are good for, darlin’?” You could almost hear the grin in his voice.

Before you could answer, you felt a fierce pulse at your center. A tremor, a throb, an artificial oscillation.

A vibration.

You moaned.

Daryl twirled the tip of a pink vibrator against your clit and pressed.

So overcome with that raw, potent jolt, you couldn’t help it when you cried, “Fuck, Daryl!”

Daryl didn’t cover your mouth, but he did withdraw the device from your slit for a moment, just to whisper in your ear to shut. the fuck. up. The two of you ogled the swarm of walkers once more and stood in muted suspense. Waiting for one to turn toward the glass.

Not a single set of eyes drifted in your direction.

Bent over you with a buzzing vibrator at your core, Daryl couldn’t deny the rush was...addictive. He pushed the thing a little deeper and smiled when you stifled a moan.

“Ya might’ve been right comin’ all the way out here after all,” Daryl teased, “This shit’s way more fun than suckin’ gas, don’t ya think?”

You buried your face in the glass and wanted to scream when Daryl’s fingers started sliding in and out of your hole.

You were being so good, not making a sound, eyes all but welled up with tears at the pleasure that was coursing through your body. Daryl rubbed your back with his other hand and seemed to be treating you a little gentler now.

“Aw, tha’s my girl,” he said, words ripe with condescension. He traced his palm up the length of your spine and kept fingering you quietly. You barely even noticed that the vibrator was designed to hook inside you, still punishing your clit as it quivered away at the sensitive spot within your walls.

“Who woulda thought all it would take ta shake that disobedience away was a couple’a fingers in yer cunt and a stupid little toy.”

You were far too close to your release to give a shit about his patronizing speech; you bucked your hips against his hand, his front, and gritted your teeth as a tender bubble of pleasure grew deep within your belly. Then, to your surprise, you felt Daryl clasp your fingers while they were still knotted with rope behind you and squeezed them.

“Tha’s a good girl. Cum all over me, make tha’ pussy feel nice f’me, c’mon.”

You followed his command in short order and released all over his hand, humping his fingers and humming through a muffled shriek as you came.

Daryl beamed with pride and hardly had it in him to look away, notwithstanding the growing throng of walkers close ahead of you. He uncurled his fingers, slid them out, and took a nice, long taste of his hand while he watched you writhe underneath him.

“Take it out!” you hissed, thrashing against the vibrator still buzzing within you, “Take it out, take it out, take it out!”

In truth, you’d never felt so fucking good in your life. You surprised yourself when you stood there another couple seconds and came again, clenching repeatedly over the tiny pink toy and groaning into the condensation-dampened glass.

“FUCK!” you screamed, this time with no hint of restraint.

Daryl’s eyes bulged out of his head, and he yanked the thing out of you. Gaze darting to the window in a petrified look.

One walker paused in place and craned its neck with the slowest of motions. It stared blankly at the window before it but didn’t move. Daryl saw its mouth open and close, wheezing something violent, and stared another few seconds before shuffling back to its previous path. Daryl closed his eyes.

“What did I say about—” he started to whisper down to you, but you cut him short,

“We need a safe word or something, Daryl. This is too fuckin’ risky.”

You were right about that. Daryl straightened up and tucked the vibrator in his pocket, before wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Yeah? How ‘bout ‘Walker Bait’?” he muttered, rubbing his face.

Then he was fumbling with the rope around your wrists and loosening it up. His heart was still thudding in his chest, scared half to death with the narrow miss you’d just had, though he didn’t want you to see it. He turned around as soon as you’d gotten free.

“Fine by me,” you grumbled back.

You watched Daryl disappear down a random aisle and felt obliged to cross your arms over your chest, pivoting back to the walkers with a wary gaze.

And, just when you started to wander back into the recesses of your mind, watching the swarm grow thicker and thicker and starting to doubt you’d ever escape this nightmare, you felt Daryl’s hands on you again. Squeezing your hips and turning you to face him.

“Jump,” he ordered.

You did as he said and locked your legs around his waist, welcomed by the familiar feeling of the counter behind you as Daryl pressed your bodies into it. He half-braced you against it, half-held you in his arms as he fingered something small and delicate beneath you.

Your smile widened at the sight of a condom wrapper being torn in two, and grew even bigger when you caught a glimpse of the rubber itself.

It was bright blue and littered with ridges. You laughed.

“The hell is that, Dixon?” you asked, bringing a hand to your mouth to muffle your amusement.

Daryl gingerly dragged the cobalt-colored condom over his length and made a face.

“Ain’t a single damn rubber here for normal people,” he grunted, “This one’s fuckin’ blueberry flavored.”

At the last, neither of you could contain your laughter as you both stared down at the bizarre blue condom stretching over Daryl’s cock. You scooted forward just a little.

“Never a dull moment with you, is there, Dar?” you said as you pushed his chest lightly. Telling him to step back so you could hop down and sink to the floor in front of him.

Daryl sucked in a breath as you took his shaft in your hands. He slapped a hand on the countertop and squeezed when your tongue darted past your lips.

Surely he couldn’t get a fruit-flavored condom and not expect you to give it a taste.

With the base of his cock between your fingers, you licked a long, wide line up his dick and moaned.

“Doesn’t taste much like blueberries,” you hummed, feigning disappointment as you gazed up at Daryl. He gripped the counter even harder and gritted his teeth to suppress a groan.

Regardless of the unsavory artificial flavor, you took the head of his cock between your lips and sucked. Bobbed your head up and down over his length as though trying to get a real mouthful of those so-called berry juices. You found yourself sorely dissatisfied with the taste but more than compensated for this loss in the form of Daryl’s throaty moans above you. It seemed he was letting loose on the restraints to keep quiet and finally gripping your hair, rutting into your mouth.

“Ah, honey, tha’s’it. Tha’s a good little slut,” he panted as he pushed you further down on his cock.

You tried not to gag when he grazed the back of your throat but couldn’t control the reflex. Daryl groaned even louder above you.

In a second, you were plucked off his bright blue boner and taken back into his arms, then shoved on the surface behind you.

“I ain’ fuckin’ waitin’ no more. Ya done achin’ for daddy’s cock?”

You nodded that you were. You readily accepted Daryl’s lips on your own and his tongue pushed deep in your mouth as he showered you with a string of sloppy kisses. Shifted you in his arms almost viciously, frantically, before bringing you down on his cock.

The second you were fully impaled on him, the two of you groaned. You bucked your hips and he rutted his, bouncing you up and down again and again with no time at all to adjust to his size.

All that could be heard in the deserted store was the sounds of your skin slapping against one another, punctuated every now and then with strangled moans and stifled whimpers. You steadied your hands on either one of his shoulders and stared, deeply, in Daryl’s half-hooded eyes. He panted out a breathy sigh as you clenched around him.

“Tha’s right, girl, fuckin’ take it. Take this fuckin’ cock like it’s yours,” he growled.

“It is mine, Daryl,” you bit back, grinding even harder, “Tell me it’s mine.”

Daryl’s jaw seemed to slacken just a bit, evidently aroused by the sound of you talking so dirty to him. In a blink, he was digging his nails in your sides and saying,

“It’s yours, baby. All fuckin’ yours.”

If someone had told you at the start of the day that this was how your dreaded supply run with Daryl would go, you wouldn’t have believed them. As your once-despised partner drilled you even deeper and caught your lips in a frenzied kiss, you still almost couldn’t comprehend it now. You bounced, and you writhed, and you rolled your desperate hips against him, but how in the fuck did this happen?

The moment Daryl dropped his thumb to your clit, you decided you didn’t care.

Your walls hugged him even tighter as he drew loose circles all over your swollen nub, and your head fell back. Daryl held you even tighter.

“Gonna cum again f’me? Gonna cum all over this cock?” he goaded you as your heels dug deep in his lower back.

All you could do was nod again—bring your lazy, fucked-out gaze back to Daryl and murmur in what hardly felt like words to you at all:

“Y-yes, daddy, yes.”

Daryl smiled at the sound of that word on your lips and thrusted his hips even harder, fucking you fast to build the friction on your sensitive, trembling walls.

That, paired with the flick of his thumb on your clit and the narrowing eyes holding you tight to his gaze—wordlessly coaxing you to cum for him now, make daddy proud—sent your senses spiraling into ecstasy. You released all over Daryl’s fat, throbbing cock and gripped him harder than you ever had before.

Before another scream could escape your lips, Daryl yanked you closer for a kiss and attempted to swallow every sound as his own orgasm surged inside him. You felt the man move both hands to your sides, seize them, and all but crush the bones beneath his fingers as he fucked you hard against the counter. He shot his load in the condom and groaned against your mouth.

Two former enemies, fucked out like a couple of crazed fools, stayed glued in place and blinked back at one other like you hardly understood what had just happened. Grinning nonetheless.

As Daryl leaned in for one last kiss, the pair of you froze—something rapped against the window.

The two of you turned and almost swore you could’ve felt your stomachs fall to the floor.

The herd of walkers outside, seemingly doubled in size, now stood at full attention at the storefront. Every undead, rotted head turned straight to face you.

They looked real fucking hungry.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #smut #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

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writella · 7 months

Text

Thinking about Rick and slightly innocent, touch starved, virgin, fem!reader— ♡

Just smut this time, 18+, mdni, wc: 1.8k.

“I usually just touch myself at the top,” you explain, verbalizing your actions as you rub your clit with your middle finger, your pointer and ring brushing up against either side of your lips. You’re breathless, already panting. Doing this in front of him was too much. You just couldn’t believe this was happening, that he was here watching, enjoying. “Barely even put my fingers in- I get nervous- never feels good.”

“Never?” There’s a bit of surprise in Rick’s voice, but the grin he’s hiding loves every second of you showing him how much you need something- something bigger, something or someone like him and his fingers— his cock.

You pout with a hmph, “No,” you whine, your eyes trailing desperately. “They feel like nothing when I do it. And I don’t know how to make it feel good.”

Your actions, your words, it makes his tongue peek out of the side of his mouth. It’s only just a little, but a tiny bit drool is at the edge, almost rolling down and onto his chin. He licks it away before it falls.

His eyes are dark and lustful, dazed with the sight of you in only a shirt, underwear discarded, rubbing your puffy, wet pussy so fast right in front of him. He had been talking to Daryl outside the house, came up to get you for dinner at his, but then he caught you. He didn’t mean to, but the door was just a crack open: with one eye he could see your legs dangling off the bed, nose and eyes scrunched so tightly as your fingers played with yourself, whispering his name. That’s what set him off, the sweet little “Rick… Rick, Rick,” pants that came out of your mouth. That’s what made him come in without knocking. He told you not to stop.

And now, he stands right in front of your bed. Any closer and he’d be in between your legs. He can see you staring down every inch of him, eyes so wide, hopeful yet hopeless. You’re pathetically whimpering and whining at his own— those sparkly blue and wandering ones. He’s just as invested in the sight as you are.

You look at his pink parted lips and his tongue you want so badly in your mouth, and lower too, so much lower. You see his slick, curly hair, and that scruffy beard— you wouldn’t even care if it would make your sensitive lips burn down there. You want it. So bad. Your eyes go down further, seeing the way his hands are placed low at his hips, his groin jutted forward… Fuck. You need to see what’s underneath.

You rub your clit faster with two fingers now, biting on your bottom lip, looking at his fat bulge and wondering if he’s just getting hard or if it’s always looked big like that. It makes you feel like this one of your daydreams… you don’t know if your mind is enlarging it, but wow it looks good. You’d honestly sit on him right there, jeans and all with your bare pussy. Who cares if he’s been working all day, dealing with God knows what outside these walls. You’ll take anything. You bet even the littlest bit of something from him probably feels better than when you’re alone doing this anyway. You were tired of it, you wanted to be touched; you wanted to be fucked— fucked by Rick Grimes.

Rick finally sits on the bed. His face closer to you now as he asks, “You’ve ever made yourself cum, sweetheart?”

You're hesitant to answer but you shake your head, shy and slow. You feel embarrassed.

A chronic overthinker you were sometimes, you could never be in the moment and finally get yourself over the edge. Thinking about Rick always led to thinking about how you shouldn’t be doing it. He was the leader of your group, he had a daughter and a son, ones that you were far older than, but just enough to not possibly be their mother… at least not the eldest, anyway. This was wrong, but there he was: watching, staring, gazing. It only made you more and more wet, you almost couldn’t breathe.

“Poor baby,” Rick drawls and you whimper at the phrase.

He decides to relieve you, but only just a little bit by brushing his hand on your leg, stroking your thigh as he finally sits down next to you. It makes you gasp as you continue to pleasure yourself. Reaching lower to collect wetness to put over your clit. Your back arches at the feeling of him.

The sight makes him grin, laughing endearingly. Just that— just his hand, not even on your pussy and you’re already reeling.

“Such a pretty little thing, and no one’s ever made you feel good…? Can’t even do it to yourself either?” He tisks at the thought. “It’s a shame, honestly.”

All you do is whine. You want him to do it but you’re too scared to ask. You want him to want to do it, without asking, go all in and make you his. Why won’t he? It makes your moan, mix with a groan as you think about it.

You look up as his hand moves higher to your hip and his name comes out all desperate and needy as you plead, “Rick-”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

He ignores you. “Put a finger inside yourself. Let’s try again, okay? How about that?”

You whine his name again, but you still do as he says. Your hand trails lower, inserting your middle finger into your wet hole.

“Start pumping… and how ‘bout this time you try to curl your finger upward after you go in, hm?” You try, humming in response to his voice and his hand moving back to your leg, softly rubbing up and down your thigh as he watches you.

He notices your breath hitching. “Good girl,” he coos, “add another.”

You attempt to pump yourself faster now with the two fingers inside of you, looking up at him. Your pussy twitches and you jut upwards at the sight of him licking his lips. “Just pretend it’s me,” he tells you, “And don’t stop. I wouldn’t.”

His hand rests back on your hip, fingers daring to reach your mound as they slide slowly, but he’s hesitating. He wants you to do it all by yourself, but he sees your face, sees what just his voice and his watching does to you. You were always a good listener, a team player, never skipped on doing your part when he asked it of you, but this, this new power he had over you? It was something else. He can’t help but want to see what happens when he gives you just a little more.

His fingers now lightly ghost over your lips and your eyes implore. Your gasp is shaky. You’re almost holding your breath waiting for the full press but… he doesn’t do it yet.

He’s being a fucking tease.

The cockiness is evident in his voice when he asks, “Want me to?”

“Yes,” you moan, loud and instantly. It’s pitiful, you’re a mess and you want him so bad you couldn’t help it, but the beg worked. Right after, he starts rubbing harsh circles into your clit, making you vibrate.

“Oh- ohmygod, Rick.” You try to keep pumping yourself but it becomes hard. You’ve dreamed about his hands, right there on your most intimate parts, making you feel good and showing you how it’s supposed to really feel. And finally. He’s doing it. His rough fingertips felt like heaven.

Your own fingers stutter. His hand and yours are just too much for you, especially because of how deep and fast he’s rubbing against your skin and bone. “Rick, please,” you want him to go lower, take over, and he notices how your fingers slow.

“No,” he warns. “Keep goin’.” His voice is stern, stopping you before you do, he takes your hand and helps you pump your fingers into yourself before letting go. “You’re doing that yourself. Go faster.”

Your cheek falls to the opposite side of the bed, whimpering sadly at his words, but you continue.

“You got it,” he encourages. “Put another finger in.”

“Another?” Your voice incredulous as you ask.

“Gotta train yourself with your fingers before you get mine.” He pauses. “And before you can get up to my dick… How do you think it’s gonna fit if we don’t open you up?”

You let out a moan, it’s the kind that you had only heard on tv in the past. Just the sheer thought of him insinuating that soon he would put himself inside of you sends you spiraling. You add a third finger, it feels tight, but good, especially with him there.

“There you go,” he says, stretching out the syllables. He feels his jeans tighten further as he watches you.

And you only get wetter. The squelching sounds from below are nothing you’ve ever heard from yourself before. Your pussy shakes and sucks your fingers below with Rick rubbing and pinching your clit at the top. You speak between pants, moaning again, “Rick… Rick, its too much.” You’re trying to keep up your pace but you feel your energy withering again. You close your eyes.

“That means you’re making yourself cum soon. Keep going.”

“It hurts, I can’t do it!”

“You can do it,” he nods, “and if you don’t… I’ll just leave you here.”

A quick, “No!” and a string of “mmms” come out as you whine. You don’t want him to go, so you try, you keep up.

Rick lets go of your clit and it makes you gasp sadly at the loss, but he’s pushing up your shirt, exposing your breast. He takes one hand to rub your clit again and another to roll one of your nipples. “This is the only extra help you get,” he tells you. “Now are you going to cum for me?”

You nod, “Yes, yes,” you chant, “I can do it for you, Rick.”

“Show me.”

You continue to pump fast, curling your fingers as he suggested before. You find a spongy part that makes you feel extra tingling in your lower stomach and you keep trying to push up against it with each pump of your fingers. You decide to open your eyes again to watch Rick as his eyes trail between your breasts to below, you choose to focus the way your fingers look as they go in and out of you and how his hand rubs and shakes you at the top. Indescribable noises come out at the sight. “I’m losing it,” you tell him.

“Just keep goin’,” he tells you. “See it through.”

You start panting in between your stringy moans, it’s breathy and hurried and long. You force yourself to not stop. “I’m gonna cum, Rick. I’m gonna make myself cum!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know you can. Be a good girl for me, you got it.”

And then you do. The butterflies spring. You continue to pump as you ride your high and then it’s done. You came.

Rick smiles, licking his fingers filled with your wetness. He stands up, knees making their way between your own that lay on the bed as he starts undoing his belt. As he drops his pants and his boxers you see his cock spring up. It’s glossy at the tip and although you haven’t seen many, you’re completely sure it’s longer than most.

But it gets you scared. There’s worry in your eyes. Your lip quivers despite the drool that comes out on the side. How’s it gonna fit?

“You ready?” He asks.

“But I thought you said your fingers first.”

He kisses your lips, fingers caressing your cheek as he whispers, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll go slow.”

Then he pushes himself in. Right to the hilt.

He didn’t go slow.

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x fem!reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes fic #rick grimes x reader smut #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x female reader #rick grimes x y/n smut #rick grimes x y/n #the walking dead smut #twd smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #wonders with writella #wonders with rick

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eufezco · 7 months

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SUPER SHY - JOEL MILLER x FEM!READER

SUMMARY – when Joel's keeping you company while you're showering, he sees something he wasn't supposed to.

english isn't my first language <3 // this is pure SMUT

A/N – omg it's been so long but i literally have no inspiration so if anyone has any request... also, i've been writing for the walking dead, especially daryl, but that's still in my drafts because i don't know if there's anyone interested in that. ANYWAYS, i hope this isn't so bad

He didn't mind. He truly didn't care. He was sitting on the toilet, bent forward, with his elbows on his knees and one of his legs shaking out of impatience. It was true that he'd rather be doing other things but with a bit of luck you'd be done soon and he'd leave. Although he didn't have much to do either, he was sure they needed some last-minute people to patrol.

He had been sitting on that toilet every night for at least thirty minutes every time you took a shower. Since you lacked music, you needed some other type of distraction and Joel wasn't the best for it but it was your only option.

"What was the last movie you saw?"

"I don't know. I can't remember."

"I'm sure you do remember, you are just too lazy to think. For me, it was Spiderman, my brother took me to the movies but I don't remember enjoying it. What was yours?"

"I think it was Catch Me If You Can."

"Never heard of that."

Of course not, he said to himself. The sound of falling water made your voice sound fainter so he had to readjust his position to hear you better. His back was now against the toilet, he ran his hands over his face. It was starting to get a little hot inside the bathroom as well. Joel looked in your direction, trying to understand what you were saying but quickly looked away. Joel closed his eyes tightly and then opened them wide again without knowing what to do. When he leaned back and looked in your direction, he expected nothing, only the curtain that was hiding you, but instead, he found a perfect view of your round and wet ass.

Joel swallowed nervously and shook his head, trying to erase that image from his mind, but it was so perfect and the water slid so easily down it. No, no, no, fuck he mumbled, massaging his temples. The way his teeth would sink into your skin there, and they would mark your soft skin just right.

"Are you okay?" You peeked your head through the curtain. Your brow furrowed as you saw him looking away.

He nodded.

"Can you pass me the bathrobe, then?"

Fuck, you were doing this on purpose, he thought. He stood from the toilet and you waited behind the curtains. You went out of the shower wrapped in the robe.

"I'll leave so you can change." He announced. His eyes briefly looked away and moved down to your breasts covered by your bathrobe, he could see how hard your nipples were and how the drops of water slid down your cleavage. You raised your eyebrows and Joel never looked you in the face again. He tried to get out of the bathroom, ashamed enough already, when you blocked his way with your body.

"I saw you looking at me, Joel. You won't get away so easily."

He didn't know what to say. Should he apologize? Should he leave anyway? He'd been looking after you practically since this started, since you two met in the woods, the least he could do was apologize for looking at you in such an inappropriate way.

"When was the last time you saw a naked woman?"

Your question caught him off guard. Joel shook his head and took his eyes off you, knowing beforehand what you were about to do. The bathrobe slipped off your shoulders and Joel closed his eyes, not even daring to look at your reflection in the mirror. You couldn't be doing this to him, he was not like the boys you'd been hanging out in Jackson.

"Look at me."

He shook his head. You told him again and this time his eyes laid on yours. You flashed him a smile, how innocent sweet Joel.

"I want you to look at my body, Joel."

Joel called your name, shaking his head again and swallowing nervously.

"I know you want to do it, I saw how you looked at me before. I want you too, but this isn't going to work if you can't even look at me."

His eyes shyly moved from yours to your breasts. He took a glance and closed his eyes. You smiled victorious. You guided one of his hands to caress one side of your body. Joel dared to look at the path his hand was making through your body, how soft the skin of your waist felt against his rough fingers.

You led his hand to cup one of your tits. Your nipple immediately became hard on contact with his palm and your pussy was already clenching around nothing. You'd dreamed so many times about how would his touch feel, and he was barely applying any pressure, nor squeezing it or pinching your nipple, he was just holding your tit in his hand.

Your hand pinched his chin and made him look up at you. His eyes were bright, darker than you'd ever seen them before, and his pupils were big. You fluttered your lashes, inocently and your thumb caressed his lips. You came close enough to his mouth for your breaths to become one, you could feel his beard tickling your lips. You ran your tongue over his lips and he leaned in for a kiss, his lips were so soft and gentle against yours compared to the thick hair of his beard.

You pushed his shoulders and made him sit on the toilet again. His cock was so hard and ready for you, already leaking precum against the fabric of his underwear. He was still unsure about this, not because he didn't want to do it but because you were so beautiful and he was an old man that doubled your age, and his cock was so hard and already throbbing against his stomach, it was almost embarrassing.

Joel put both of his hands on your hips when you placed one of your legs on each side of his body. You wrapped your fingers around his hard cock, giving it a couple of strokes and getting multiple groans from him. You could feel him twitching between your fingers. He was big, some black hairs like the ones on his head decorated the base of his cock and a prominent vein ran down its length, but the most important thing was, that he was thick. You could barely take it all in one hand, and you knew the stretch was going to be perfect.

You lined up his cock at your entrance, allowing only his tip to go inside you, and then you gently lowered yourself. One of your hands moved down to your clit and rub it to get used to the sensation of Joel filling you. He gave you all the time you needed but you were tight and he could feel his cock jumping inside you. Every time your fingers rubbed your clit your cunt clenched and squeezed him even harder.

"You good?" Joel asked, caressing one of your cheeks with the back of his hand. You nodded. "You sure? Oh, fuck-" He moaned when you started rolling your hips against his. Your movements were very delicate as your fingers continued working on your bundle of nerves, helping you to get even wetter and making it easy for you to take him. Joel could feel you dripping down the inside of his legs.

"Yeah, that's a good girl, fuck-" His eyes were locked on where you two connected although he could only see how his cock had completely disappeared inside your pussy. He was enjoying the way your tiny fingers played with your clit.

"Still good?" He asked again and you nodded. You suddenly stopped the movement of your hips against his and he was afraid that you'd hurt yourself. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders, getting a firm grip there to help you lift your hips from his lap. You pulled him out of you, his cock glistening with your juices, and then you dropped yourself back down onto his cock.

A sharp moan came out of Joel's throat and his fingers sank into the flesh of your ass. You repeated that again and again, finally getting used to Joel's width and to the sting of him going inside you deeper and deeper each time. Your hands moved from his shoulder to his face, cupping both of his cheeks and guiding his lips to yours, the sounds that escaped your mouths became one. His hands massaged your breasts shamelessly this time, his palms rubbed your nipples while you leaned your head back, giving him perfect access to your neck.

"I can't- I can't anymore." You cried out, your movements becoming more and more sloppy.

"It's okay. You did well." He gasped, his hands on your hips slowly guiding your movements, giving you enough time to recompose. Joel helped you to wrap your legs around his body, so that when he stood up from the toilet, he could move you with him, his dick still balls deep inside you.

Joel sat you on the sink and he splayed your legs completely open. You sat up on your elbows, looking through your eyelashes as he was admiring how your pussy sucked him. His dick slid inside you easily, his thrusts were stronger than you thought they would be and they made your whole body shake with them. Your throat felt dry and the burn in the pit of your stomach felt warmer and warmer. You dug your nails into his shoulders and pulled him to you, chest to chest.

Your hips rolled involuntarily against his, and you nodded to everything he muttered at you through gritted teeth. Yes, you were a good girl. Yes, you were his good girl. Yes, your pussy belonged to him. Yes, you were about to cum. Yes, you wanted his cum, and yes, you wanted it inside. And who was he to deny you your wishes? With a groan coming straight from his chest and your legs shaking and closing around his body, you both came seconds apart.

Joel stayed inside you, his head resting on your shoulder as you played with the hair on the back of his neck. You giggled. "Look at the shy one."

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scudslut · 1 month

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Fiending for Daryl x F!reader at the point where they're super domestic and sexually comfortable with each other. Like making jokes like "I'll do that thing you like if you take Dog for a walk ;)" and just being super teasing and playful with each other

lazy mornings w/ daryl

daryl x f!reader

wc: 1k

warnings: teasing, slight allusions to sex, mdni

a/n: omfg i adored this idea. thinking about daryl finally super comfortable with you, able to relax and just be himself is just🥹 i hope this is close to what you wanted!! i kinda got carried away in my imagination with this one lol. alsooo, i have a few other requests i’m working on, i promise i’m not skipping anyone’s i just take forever to write:,)

daryl would absolutely love to tease you. he just loved to see that little spark flash in your eyes, reminding him that you want him and he has you.

he was incredibly shy initiating anything sexual during the first couple years of your relationship. and still to this day it’s not often that he’ll outright vocalize his lust, but rather use his actions and subtle, playful remarks that’ll have you ready to pounce on him the first moment you get. the little sanctuary you call home is his favorite place in the world, and it was only ever you who got to see this goofy, mischievous side of him.

and he found he couldn’t help himself, watching you around the house, so casual and domesticated.

you’d play quiet music often on the little record player he’d found, hair tied up in some messy knot, loose shorts and a small t-shirt the only things adorning your soft skin as you read, or cooked, or whatever hobby was interesting you at the time. it brought out intense feelings inside of him, ones he never imagined he’d ever feel and it almost made him giddy. so happy he could provide that safety for you to simply be, and ravenously hungry to devour you whole any chance he got.

it must’ve been sometime in early may he figured. the sun was bright in the sky no later than 6am the past few weeks. mornings still brisk but afternoons hot and nearing swim-worthy. you both rose late that day, having spent a little extra time in bed where the light flooded through the cabin windows, glowing across fluffy sheets and warm skin, simply too soothing to move from right away. he always woke before you and always had to drink you in for a while, admiring how the sun danced through the strands of your wild hair across the pillows. your chest rose so fluently and calmly it made his own tight. he’d ingrain that picture deep in his memory; your vibrant, lively body something he’d protect till his last dying breath.

you had a leg propped outside the blankets, tossed close to his body subconsciously and he brought his fingers to the soft skin of your exposed thigh, painting invisible shapes. it only took a few minutes before you started mumbling sleepily as he dragged them upwards, towards your inner thigh.

“mmm, good morning,” you breathed softly, eyes still shut but a lazy smile gracing your features.

“mornin' sunshine,” he drawled, leaning down to press light kisses over his artwork. “sleep alright?”

“mhm, you?”

he nodded against your skin. he always slept well next to you, especially now he had you all to himself; your little hole in the woods providing much-needed peace and solitude after all the years without. just you, dog, and acres of tall green trees.

speaking of which, he noticed the door creaking open behind him as he placed more nips and kisses, paws padding across the wooden floors at the sound of your voices finally awake.

his tongue dragged up, grazing over the hem of your panties. your hips shifted beneath him as you moaned softly. “can we make it an agreement that you always wake me up like this?” you gasped when his hands joined in, massaging your plush hips with strong hands.

he snorted at that, “i already always do.”

“mm, right,” you muttered quickly distracted as your hands found purchase on his soft brown locks. your morning brain never failed to amuse him. you’d mutter nonsense half asleep, sure to barely remember when you fully came too.

his fingers were just slipping under the waistband when dog whimpered quietly behind you both. a smirk cast over his face, already hearing your whines of dismay at what he was about to do.

“think somebody needs a mornin' walk,” he pulled away with a kiss to the little bow at the hem. a low groan followed in suit just as he expected and he chuckled slightly.

“D… just a few more minutes.”

but he was already dragging his body off the mattress, grabbing a random strewn shirt and pulling it over his head.

“such a tease, dixon,” he heard from the bed, turning to see you propped up with a phony pout. the corners of his eyes crinkled in a grin at your state, hair wild from sleep, and cheeks flushed pink.

“how bout this,” he bargained, leaning back down to peck your ankle and slowly up your calf. “we take him out quickly, and then i’ll bring ya right back here and let ya have yer way with me… sound fair?”

he watched as you feigned contemplation.

“come on, look at that face,” he pointed to dog, who sat patiently at the foot of the bed, tail wagging.

“never thought i’d get cockblocked by a dog, but, alas,” you sighed, trying your best to cover the grin on your face.

daryl bent over, shielding dog's ears. “hey! he can hear ya y’know,” and there was so more hiding your grin, giggles escaping your lips in fit.

he’d never seen you move so fast after that, speedily throwing on a top that barely covered your ass and rushing to the front door.

“come on doggy boy! your dad and i have a date, we gotta make this quick,” you mused loudly through the house, dog chasing after you.

he couldn’t help but shake his head in laughter, following after his family blissfully. this was definitely his favorite place in the world.

sorry i’m so cheesy byyee❤️

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deansapplepie · 15 days

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Do I look like I wanna laugh?

Summary: In years of marriage you had never worn a sexy lingerie to your husband. What happens when you do?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: detailed description of lingerie on your body (no body description), talks about sex, smut, Dom! Daryl or a terrible tentative of, dirty talk, knife play if you squint, fingering, mirror sex, swearing, pet names, use of the word slut very affectionately, p in v, unprotected sex (use protection kids), creampie. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+.

A/N: FINALLY FINISHED IT AFTER ALMOST A MONTH WRITING! There’s a warning for knife play, but it actually isn’t, the knife is just used to cut something and it’s not reader.

You had gone on a run with Rosita and Maggie, try to find some supplies, hopefully some new clothes and that’s how you ended up with the girls looking for some lingerie. You had never had this kind of underwear, you normally wore the comfortable ones, the more practical… when you were younger you’d not have them because you were afraid if tour parents saw them they would think you were having sex. Your father would probably freak out and your mother would tease you for the rest of your life. When you left home… well then you preferred your comfort, and nothing is more comfortable than some sports bra and cotton panties.

You had a cute set on your hands, a baby blue all lacy and full of bows. It was cute and the color reminded you of his eyes. “I don’t know Rosi, I’m not used to wearing this. And it’s not practical when we are always running from walkers.” You said, Rosita and Maggie were trying to convince you to get some sets for you. They dragged you from the section you were before and were practically throwing the cute, revealing and sensual sets on you.

“You’re not supposed to use them to fight walkers. Although… I think Daryl would find it sexy if you did.” Maggie grinned, she knew how you could get all flushed and shy when the talk was about sex or any sensual thing.

“Maggie!” You reprehended your friend. “I don’t think he likes those kind of things, I mean… he never said anything or complained.”

“We know he prefer you wearing nothing. Girl, we know you’re enthusiasts, we have ears, you know?” You blushed instantly while Rosita spoke, yes, you knew they often could listen to your and The archer’s activities. Daryl made it very difficult to not be noisy. “But believe me, he’ll like it. He’s kind of a rustic man, but he’s a man after all. They like those things.”

“Ok, I’m going to take this one.” You surrendered, but Rosita wasn’t over.

“Oh not this one, it’s all sweet and cute. Daryl already know this side of you very well. Let’s get you something more sexy.” She said looking at the hangers.

“I’m no femme fatale Rosi, I’m just me… I think I’m sweet after all.”

“You can keep this one, and any other you want, but we’ll choose some for you. Daryl will be wrapped around your fingers.” Maggie said.

“We’re married in case you didn’t notice.” You observed and showed your hand as if they had never seen the ring on your finger.

They choose three for you a black one, a red one and a coral one, they said the colors would outstand more your features. You choose the baby blue one that reminded you of his eyes, a pink one as cute as the blue and a white one.

Later that day after killing 5 walkers and going back home you pondered if you’d wear one of them. What would he think? Would he like it? He liked your common underwear, would those “sexy” ones be appreciated by him?

You had chosen the black one, if anything could go wrong you obviously would go with the boldest one. The black lingerie was very different from all you had seen before. On the breasts it made a triangle around each breast and had only a strap from one side to the other covering your nipples, it had many straps embracing your body and forming geometric shapes with it. In the middle of each strap there was a little bow. The lower part was lacy and had one particularity, it was open in the middle, in the lowest part, letting your cunt uncovered.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, on one hand you thought it was beautiful how it fit in your body embracing all the perfections and all the flaws, but on the other hand you felt silly. You never wore something like this before and you never presented yourself like this to Daryl before. That was it, you were going to take it off and wear your usual underwear and your sleeping clothes. When you were about to take it out, the door to your shared room opened, you jumped startled and closed your robe faster than the Flash.

“What’s that love? Why are ya all jumpy?” Daryl, your husband, asked entering the room and walking in your direction. You didn’t turn to look at him, years of marriage and being caught in this situation still made you blush and be embarrassed.

“Nothing…” you tried. You knew he knew that when you said nothing, it indeed was something.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing to me. You’re all blushy and you were startled when I entered the room.” He wrapped his arms around you and looked at you through the mirror. “Were ya doing something wrong? Something ya shouldn’t be doing?”

“N-no…” you knew what he meant and no, you weren’t doing anything “wrong”.

“Hmm…” he inhaled your scent in your neck nuzzling his nose on it and on your ears. “Not touching yerself without me or without me saying so?”

“No!” You exclaimed, and you quickly thought saying it like this would make you more suspect. “It’s another thing.”

You closed your eyes out of embarrassment, now you couldn’t escape this situation.

“Then, what is it?” He asked again, kissing your neck, his stubble sending chills through your body.

“Do you promise you’ll not laugh about it even if it’s the most ridiculous thing?” You asked looking for his eyes in the mirror.

“I promise it, babe. I’ll not do that.” He rested his chin on your shoulder, observing you. “Now tell me…”

You took a breath and then opened your robe, you slowly opened it until you revealed the piece you were wearing under the robe. When you opened it, you quickly closed your eyes, you were afraid of what you would see in his eyes. There was a moment of silence, and you thought you had screwed everything, until you listened to his voice. “Open your eyes.” He commanded.

You slowly opened your eyes, afraid you’d see something you didn’t want on his face. But as soon as you opened them, you saw his blue eyes, black in lust and desire, the blue just a thin line on the borders. “Do I look like I wanna laugh?” He asked.

“No…” you replied weakly, gods the way his eyes were raking your reflection… that was making your legs weak.

“Hmm…” he took his arms that were wrapped around you and slipped his hands on your arms. “Where did you get it?”

“In the run. With the girls.” You replied. “They said you’d like it… but I wasn’t sure.”

“Why’s it babe?” He asked his hands running up your arms again just to end on your shoulders, his fingers grabbing your robe there.

“I never used any of it, and you never said anything.” It was difficult to keep your eyes open and looking at him through the mirror, when he looked you like that it always felt so overwhelming looking right into his eyes.

“I’d find ya sexy even if ya were wearing a sack of potatoes.” He said sliding the sleeves of the robe down your arms. “I’d rather have ya naked, but this… damn! It got me hard the moment I saw it.”

You shivered from excitement, expectation and a small breeze that you could feel now that you were completely exposed. He pulled your body against his and you could feel his hard on. “Fuck.” It let your lips spontaneously.

“Yeah… fuck…” he repeated and drank you in. “Do ya mind if I do some alterations on it?”

You shook your head, but you knew he wasn’t getting only that. “I need words babe…”

“I don’t mind, you can do anything you want.” You said almost breathless and he had done nothing he barely had touched you yet. That was what Daryl Dixon made you feel.

His hand went to his waistband and he took the knife he had there. He took it carefully to your front and then to the side of the set you were wearing. He cut one side of the strap that was covering your nipples, then he cut the other side and threw the strap to a corner of the room with the knife. Now you had your nipples completely exposed and he was practically eating you alive just with his eyes. “Now, it’s perfect.”

He embraced your body once again with his big strong arms while his mouth went straightly to your neck giving you the most sinful open mouthed kiss, immediately making you sigh. Then he stopped. “I think I shoulda go clean myself, I worked all day…”

“Don’t you dare.” He was playing games with you, you knew it. He had no intention of stopping. He just wanted to tease you, but he had already made you despaired for him. “You just fixed some cars… I-I need you!”

“Look at my sweet girl…” he embraced you tightly one of his hands cupping one of tour breasts and the other sneaking down your stomach. “… ain’t her a little slut?”

He massaged tour breast, teasing it, pinching your erected nipple. His other hand cupped your semi nude crotch. “Yours…” You breathless said.

“Mine?” He repeated on your ear, his fingers running through your impossibly wet folds. “So wet fer me… so ready fer my cock…”

“I’m…” He pressed your clit eliciting a moan from your lips. “Ugh… your slut.”

He inserted one finger on your pussy, you gasped a moan escaping your lips. He nibbled and sucked on your neck and shoulders. “Even being my little slut, yer still so sweet.” He pumped his finger on you ando looked mesmerized at your reflection on the mirror, how you face contorted in pleasure, your parted plump lips and how your lids covered your eyes so perfectly and sinfully. “Open yer eyes sweetheart, wanna you to see how beautiful yer when I fuck you so good.”

It took you a lot to open your eyes and look at your and his reflection on the mirror. “That’s it love…” his deep voice sent chills all over your body making you clench around his finger. He inserted one more pumping in and out of you, his thumb making circles on your clit. “Such a good little slut fer me…”

You bucked your hips on his hands waiting for your sweet release and aching to have his thick delicious cock inside of you. You clenched around him repeatedly, you had become a moaning mess and it was difficult to keep your eyes open, but he wanted that so you tried. For him. Everything for him. You focused on his pretty eyes, his clean eyes that were so dark right now, the intensity on them overwhelming but grounding you in the moment. “Cum fer me baby… let it go…”

You rose your arm to the back, your hand going to the back of his neck enlacing your fingers on his hair. As you’re sent to the edge you pull on his hair making him groan as you have your release on his fingers. “So, so, so sweet! So good fer me…” he said while he drove you through your high fingers still pumping on you.

“Daryl…” you weekly said, your head resting on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath.

He looked down at you, his lips brushing yours. “What’s it baby?” You didn’t answer you took his lips on yours, hungrily damn you hadn’t kissed yet since he arrived, you needed this, you loved so much his kisses and the taste of his mouth.

You both broke the kiss, breathless you looked him in his eyes. “Was that what you needed babe?”

“That too…” you answered, the tip of your fingers massaging his scalp. “But actually… I need you, inside of me.”

He tightened his embrace on you, ready to move to bed, but you stopped him with your words. “Here.”

He stopped on his tracks, looking you in the eyes. You had already made sex in many different places, but he knew you both preferred it in bed. Your words startled him and woke something in him. “Do ya think ya can stand for a little time?”

“Yeah, I’m holding on you babe…” you said tugging a little on his hair, he released you, but was ready to catch you if needed. He unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans, taking his cock out of his boxers and pumping it a little before getting a hold on you again. He needed you, and he was glad you suggested he took you right there at that moment.

He held you on his arms once again, his hands traveling on your body. One hand ended up on your neck, just getting a hold in there while the other went back to your breasts, caring them, stimulating them… giving them the attention that they deserved.

You rocked your but on his hard on. Both of you looked at your reflections, you never thought it would excite you this much. He teased your entrance with his dick making you whimper and squirm. “Oh, please… please…” you begged, the wait making you ache and burn for him.

Who was him to deny you something when you asked so sweetly? Without any warning he trusted deeply into you, you moaned almost screaming, your fingers tugging his hair a little harsher than usual. “Fuck. I. Love. Ya. So. Fucking. Much.” For each word a trust, deep, certain, at the right spot.

You wasn’t able to say anything, lost in bliss and desire the only thing that left your mouth were moans and whimpers. With your free hand you got a handful of his but pressing him deeply into you if that was even possible. You looked at both of you in the mirror, Daryl trusting his hips on you, your bodies trembling out of pleasure and glistening with sweat. You never saw anything hotter.

His hand stopped taking care of your tits going down your body just to tease your clit, stimulate it and build your pleasure. He’s main mission was to pleasure you and if he could he’d do it every single day and minute of his life.

A turmoil building on your lower stomach, his name leaving your lips. Your walls clenching around him, indicating you were close to your high, his cock twitching in a way telling you he was close too. He turned your head to the side taking your lips on his in a passionate kiss, and as he hit that spongy spot inside of you sending you to your edge, he found his shooting his seed in you as you squeezed around him. “I love you!” You said while descending from your high, finally being able to speak.

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boop-le-snoot · 9 months

Text

masterlist

dirt

sundress+no panties+daryl = uh oh...

title and soundtrack is dirt by depeche mode. you need to take depeche mode away from me tbh, I'm hung up on the exciter album writing smut when I should be making updates to my negan and ironstrange fics.

I also headcanon daryl having huge fat swinging balls for some reason and I'm so sorry you had to read that I turn into an animal when I write daryl

cw: 18+, word count 3k. a little rough (butt slaps, some bites, he calls you a "bitch in heat" and a "slut" a couple of times - lovingly of course), a little pervy (you're fucking outside and daryl eats his own come out of your pussy+breeding kink if you squint really hard).

He reaches in, fingers curling around the bunched up, patterned cotton of the dress and his mind blanks. The low growling, he realises, is coming from his own mouth.

"The fuck, girl?"

You look at Daryl over your shoulder, where the bare skin has erupted in goosebumps from his hot, humid breath. "What?"

You sound annoyed, but there's a distinctive teasing undertone to it. Your eyes are narrowed a little too much. The corners of your cherry-tinted lips are tilted upwards.

"You ripped all my damn underwear, Daryl! What did you expect?" You grouch, breaking the second of still silence. "Can't just take a stroll to Victoria's Secret anymore, can I?" Seeing his face darken even more, you hastily add, "I got a couple I wear on runs."

You sound so cute when you're annoyed, Daryl thinks, but it's overshadowed by his blood rushing in his ears, hot and fast. His cock is still pulsing in his jeans and it demands to be released.

"So you jus' walkin' 'round with allat juicy ass hangin' out fo' all da men to sniff?" Daryl feels an urge to clarify to you, what is exactly you're doing, that he's upset with. "Cuz that's exactly what all them dawgs are fuckin' doin'!" He's jealous, of course he is, but most importantly, he doesn't trust any of the men as far as he can see them.

Hell, he isn't completely sure even Rick would pass on the opportunity to get an eyeful of your soft thighs, your scrumptious ass, or your fat cunt, for that matter.

Lord knows they're the juiciest fucking things he has seen in his whole entire miserable life. Just thinking about it makes his rock hard cock twitch and release a sad dribble of pre-cum in his pants.

"Exactly, your girl!" You declare, eyeroll audible in your voice. "Nobody's seein' me without my panties 'cept you."

Daryl's only response is to hitch up the sundress higher, the movement so quick, the fabric gives a sad crack as the seams threaten to burst. Your ass is still bare, still round and smooth as ever, nobody should have this sort of curves while they're in the middle of a damn apocalypse, he thinks, and sinks to his knees and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your right ass cheek.

You yelp at the sharp pain. You squirm, your attempt at getting away, of course, futile: your hips and waist are firmly in his grasp. Rough fingertips dig into you, just shy of painful.

"There," Daryl inches back a bit, admiring the indentations left behind by his teeth. For someone who forgets to take care of himself most days, his teeth are surprisingly straight and white and strong. And he lets you feel it. "Now if any asshole decides to go nosin' where he shouldn't, there'll be a warnin'." Daryl sounds proud of himself, which is all and all - fair.

Once the initial shock subsides, your feel your cunt lips stick together even more as your arousal oozes out of them- and down your thighs, now that there isn't any fabric to contain it all. In all honesty, you did enjoy the occasional breeze that would waft up your skirt, even if it didn't offer much respite from the sweltering summer heat.

And Daryl is definitely not helping matters, either. He's like a damn furnace, pressed up against the back of your legs, all solid bulk, breathing hot and moist into your skin, every exhale going around the curve of your ass and disappearing between your legs. He knows it the moment that you shift in place, subtly trying to widen your stance even though there is nothing more you want than to rub your thighs together to provide relief to your swollen lips and throbbing clit.

He raises a hand, wide and open-palmed, and smacks your ass. "You're such a fuckin' slut," he grouses. And your first instinct is to gasp at the offense; you hide your grin in a lip bite. Yes, yes you are. And you know it. And he knows it. Your ass cheek jiggles as he gives it another well-aimed slap. "Lookit you," Daryl presses the issue, "drippin' wet." To hammer his point home, he takes a thick, fat finger and runs it along the seam of your cunt.

It glides easily. You shudder, biting back a moan. Your legs shake just a little, but Daryl notices - he always does - and his finger dips inside your lips. The rough, calloused fingertip swipes through your labia, stopping just short of your clit. You whine and he withdraws.

His numerous knives and tools clatter as he abruptly gets up.

"You wanna be fucked, huh?" Voice quiet, Daryl's front presses to your back with a malicious intent. The prominent bulge of his erection is pushing into your back. "Is that why you goin' round naked? So anybody coulda bend you over, anytime, huh?" He reaches around you, hand blindly nosing for your face. When he finds it, he wastes no time in prying your mouth open, sticking the damp finger inside.

Your own cunt, salty and tangy, blossoms on your tongue. The gesture makes you moan around his finger and him- he sticks another one in, keeping you quiet.

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl orders. The rasp in his voice makes your knees buck and your cunt weep and he knows it. His free hand moves at your back, and with the accompanying noises, you come to realise that he's opening his pants and hurrying to free his dick.

When the damp, silky tip touches the bare skin of your ass, your body reacts before you do. Your mouth wraps tighter around his fingers. Spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and onto his wrist. Your back arches into his body. He is just as scalding as the sun beaming down from the sky.

Daryl pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding them there until you gag. The motion makes your whole form spasm and shiver; his cock gives a responding jump of its own.

"Lookit you," he rasps directly into your ear, hot breath tickling the shell of it. "Like a fuckin' bitch in heat," he grabs the meat of your ass cheek, spreading you one-handed. His cockhead noses around the cleft, leaving a sticky trail behind itself. It dips near your cunt, adding your juices to the mix. "You want it so bad."

You do. You really, really do. But you know Daryl is mean. You love it when he's mean to you. When he is proud of the strength of his bulk, when his eyebrows draw tightly over his brilliant blue eyes and nothing, absolutely nothing can escape his predatory stare. You crane your neck, trying to look back at him, to plead with your eyes.

He gets it, because he always does. Daryl's fingers quickly leave your mouth, dragging a wet trail of spit down to your neck where his fingers wrap around it in a secure hold.

"You want it so bad, then fuckin' beg," he says the words and you immediately, greedily descend into the permitted depravity.

"Please, Daryl," your voice sounds hoarse, interrupted by hiccups as you struggle to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and around his fingers, "please, fuck me. I'll be good. Please."

You feel him fist his cock as it twitches; you can't help it, really, as you arch your back even more and push your ass against his rough hand. Immediately, he withdraws it, just to slap you again.

"You're a bitch in heat," he muses, but you can hear the beginnings of impatience in his voice. "Say it!"

He's never made you do that before. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, you gasp, part shock part offense, until you feel a drop of fluid roll out over the outer lip of your cunt and fall and disappear somewhere below you. Then it's just lust. The kind that tints the whole world red and narrows your field of vision.

"Fuckin' say it!" Daryl demands, patience thin.

You wouldn't put it past him to just shove himself in at this point. "I'm... I'm a bi- I'm a bitch in heat," you hiccup, feeling your face flood with heat. "I'm a bitch in heat, please fuck me!"

You feel his lips tilt up just the tiniest bit against your ear before he reaches back for his cock and aims it at your cunt in a single, precise thrust. You gasp and mewl as he suddenly stops halfway through. Your cunt ripples and flexes and squeezes. Daryl drops his forehead onto your shoulder, panting.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You're not - he knows better, he makes sure you're not before he even thinks about sticking it in - but you are. All that blood that went straight to your cunt the moment his breath caught up in his throat at the sight of your bare pussy - It's making your cunt swell all around him.

A pathetic mewl leaves your lips, your satisfaction incomplete. You wiggle, you arch, but Daryl is as unyielding as ever.

"You take what I give you," he growls, teeth bared like an animal against your ear. Nonetheless, you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Stars burst in your eyes. You are so full, practically bursting at the seam of your cunt where his fat balls rest against the stretched hole.

Slowly, Daryl withdraws, both of you hissing at the drag of his fat cock in your engorged cunt. You may be a bitch in heat but he's every bit the stud that is just as fervent and feral to breed you. His teeth creak as he pulls back completely, leaving just his weeping tip inside of you.

And then he slams home. And again. And again. And again.

With every powerful thrust of his hips, you gasp. Quiet, pleading moans is the limit of your vocal capacity. Mouth dry, the air gets trapped in the back of your throat as your lungs demand their due.

Daryl is unrelenting. His blunt fingernails drag over the skin of your throat, leaving marks in their wake, as he makes way to your mouth.

"This is what you wanted, slut?" He pants into your hair. "Be quiet. Be really fucking quiet unless you want everybody to see what kinda..." He inhales sharply, feeling your walls flutter at the flith dripping from his tongue.

And it shouldn't make you feel the way you feel. Those fucking words just add more accelerant to the fire in the pit of your stomach, spreading it from there and up, over your face. It flames. Your hand helplessly clutches the nearest surface as you attempt to brace yourself against his thrusts and the notion that anyone could see you.

Bent over something or another, dress hiked up to your waist and Daryl's hips pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace. He didn't bother undressing save for letting his pants hang freely just below his cock and balls. Heavy, fat balls, littered with coarse dark hair, that slap against your cunt and your clit with a resounding smack every time he drives his cock inside of your cunt. The squelching noise it makes is obscene.

Another whine, and your pussy squeezes him once again, blind and hungry for release. You can feel it building steadily, deep within your abdomen.

"Fuck yeah," Daryl growls, "you fuckin' like this, don't 'cha?" He's gotten the hang of it: the dirty talk, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He's a mean bastard with nothing close to dignity or self-respect. If anyone saw him, rutting into you, little more than two animals, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.

Daryl would stare them down up until his cock swelled and busted, depositing his seed inside your womb.

Your knees feel weak. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with him; seems like every pathetic whimper that leaves your lips only makes him meaner, stronger somehow. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising. Daryl effectively wears you on his cock, submerging himself into the warm depths of your pulsing cunt over and over.

"Da-Daryl..." You gasp, you moan and you plead.

He doesn't stop. He merely handles you into a different angle, the one that hits that special spot inside of you with every powerful thrust. He is mean, but he is also fair.

"Gonna cream my cock?" He barely makes sense to himself, the words that his dry mouth garbles seem to have a mind of their own. "Gonna be good, girl? C'mon."

"Ah," you want to say yes, you want to affirm, but all that comes out of your mouth are garbled, unintelligible noises of pleasure. But Daryl sees it. It's in the way your arch becomes near-painful, body overtaking your mind. Even the slightest bit of pain blends into hot-blinding pleasure. You don't know where what ends and begins.

It begins somewhere behind your cunt. The contractions start slow and aching, and every punch of his cock to your guts intensifies the feeling tenfold, until every last inch of your cunt is squeezing around him in that same arduous, suckling rhythm. It's like your pussy is nursing at his cock, attempting to suck his life out of him and deposit it into you.

The pleasure is like a wall of fire and water. Your chest blooms with it, but your extremities swarm with pinpricks. Mouth parted in a silent scream, you sway forward, managing to catch yourself on your elbows at the last moment.

The man behind you doesn't care. He's way past caring, having had started chasing his release the moment your cunt enveloped his cock in a vice grip. The meat of it is sensitive and he spends the few inches to the finish line gracelessly mashing it inside of you, accompanied by the sound of wet flesh meeting even wetter, sloppier flesh.

"Take it, fuckin' take it," you hear him gasp through your stupor before that familiar, warm rush floods your cunt. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, each forceful throb followed up by more and more seed being pumped into the depths of you.

Against your back, Daryl sags and pants out his excerption. Like a dog. His wet nose leaves sweat stains on your back where he nuzzles into you.

Your knees shake as you struggle to hold up his weight, and then your legs completely turn to mush when droplets of his cum escape your cunt as his spent cock slips out. You know you should be worried about stains in unsightly places but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

Daryl notices this, of course. His bulk slides off you; you hear him quickly shove himself back into his pants before his ass hits the ground with a loud thud. Next to you, of course, his stubbly, prickly cheek rubbing over the skin of your leg. He places a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, and then another.

You know the drill. It's hard for him to find words, sometimes, after a scene like that. It's the intensity of it, the forceful ejection of him out of his head where he spends most of the time, that renders him speechless. Daryl is forced to feel - good things. It's not something that he is used to.

Your skirt is still around your waist and the hot sun is shooting lasers directly at your ass and pussy. You've managed to get your bearings enough to feel at least a little self-conscious, a little exposed. Your combined fluid still drip from you and for a split second, you think about pulling up your panties to try and at least somewhat contain the mess.

Right, you sigh to yourself. It makes your exhausted body twitch and sag even more.

Daryl gently pushes away your hand that was attempting to pull the dress over your ass. You freeze; he smiles against your skin, a little closed-lipped grin that makes something warm and fuzzy make a nest inside your chest. That quickly turns into a startled gasp as his fingers glide through the mess of your cunt.

You're spent. Exhausted. So sensitive, his rough skin practically hurts on your hole and clit.

But Daryl gets it. You get him, and he - he gets you. His hot breath fans over your pubic hair and it's all the warning you get before he opens his mouth wide, flattens his tongue and licks. You've made a big mess and there is a lot to take care of, but if there's anything about Daryl that you know, is that he's thorough at what he does.

In no time, he's got his tongue shoved down your cunt as far as it would go, curling against your walls, lapping up his and your cum like your pussy is an all-you-can-eat-buffet and what's inside of it is sugar and spice and everything nice.

But it's not enough. It's not anywhere near your clit, or any other place that could make you produce more of the cream he's feasting on. Idly, you think about who's the real bitch in heat here, but push out your hips to meet his face nonetheless. You can be mean too. If you want to.

I don't know what to say for myself

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #female reader #twd smut #not tagging this with norman reedus bc i have posted my face before and I'm not that bold #or am I?

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