#the walking dead reader insert | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

somedaylazysomeday · 1 year

Text

Arm Candy - Part Three

Negan x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Yikes, guys. This is an extremely explicit and kinky chapter. Please mind the warnings!

Rating: Explicit, lemon, etc. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 5,200

Warnings: blunt conversations of sexual interests and needs, water play, brief mentions of fecal matter (non-kink related), enema, anal plugging, oral sex (fem receiving), anal fingering, minor voyeurism, unprotected anal sex, creampie.

Previous | Masterlist

---

Negan was back.

You didn’t even need to open your eyes to sense his presence in your room. He had left late the night before, after fulfilling every promise he had made as well as a few invented on the spot. Negan had been reluctant and slow to leave, but he had left, insisting that he had work to do. Eventually, you let him go when he told you that more work done that night would mean less the following day.

And since that was the day you finally intended to follow through on giving Negan his long-awaited anal privileges, you were eager for him to have as little work to do as possible. The sooner he could get back to you, the better.

Things seemed off to a good start so far: when you woke, you could feel a familiar form pressed up behind you. You snuggled backward into the warmth of him, letting a satisfied smile curve your lips when you felt him hard where he was pressed against the seam of your thighs. You gave a little wiggle for him, trying to make the motions something that could be happening in your sleep.

“Awake so soon?” Negan asked, voice rough from disuse.

You chuckled, rolling over slightly so you could grin at him without putting a crick in your neck. “I feel like I should be asking you that. What time did you finally finish up last night?”

“Late,” he admitted, running the backs of his fingers down your side. He was carefully avoiding anything too sensitive, but his eyes were locked on the way your nipples were budding for him. “Don’t think I got much sleep.”

“If you need to sleep, you can sleep,” you told him, stilling his hand with your own. “We can push things back if we-”

“Not a fuckin’ chance, doll,” Negan denied immediately. “You don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“I think I have some idea.” If your voice was dry, who could really blame you? Negan had asked about anal early in your relationship and, when you confessed that you were curious about it, hadn’t stopped asking about it since.

“Yeah?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Then what do ya say we move this party to the shower? You’re still wearing last night’s fun.”

That was true, though ‘wearing’ made it sound worse than it really was. Negan had fulfilled his promise to stretch you out. He had fucked you twice, fingers buried in your ass both times and most of the time between. He had urged you to use the bathroom - maybe even shower - after he left, but you had fallen into a deep, sated sleep before you’d had the chance to get out of bed.

You wanted to tell him that nothing sounded worse than leaving your warm bed to get into a wet box, but he looked so excited that you couldn’t stand to take that from him. And, honestly, by the time you were standing beneath the warm spray with him running the detachable showerhead over your body in soothing circles, you were happy to be there.

Since Negan was Negan, he ended up aiming the jet of water between your legs, streaming it through your folds. You shuddered at the steady pressure against your clit, squirmed when it teased at your entrance, and chuckled when he aimed it further back.

Then he aimed it more insistently against your rear entrance and you threw a frown over your shoulder at him. “What are you doing?”

“I think it might be a good idea to get you all clean,” he explained as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Bend over for me and spread those cheeks.”

“No,” you rejected immediately. “You don’t need an enema to have sex.”

Negan sighed, letting the showerhead fall to his side. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I convinced one of my wives to let me fuck her ass?”

You shook your head.

“The wife in question… who I will not name, for her privacy,” he interrupted, glaring as if you had asked for specific details. “Well, she let me do it. She had fun, I had fun, things were going well. We were catching our breath before I helped her to the bathroom - we both know what goes in comes back out - and she sneezed. Shot shit all across my sheets.”

Your eyes widened at the unexpected twist, though perhaps you should have expected it. Negan had strong suspicions that he couldn’t have children, suspicions supported when none of his wives had ever experienced so much as a pregnancy scare. Even so, he hated to see his cum wasted. He had a passion for seeing it end up inside of his partners, whether it was swallowed or left inside of them. You would even go so far as to say it was a kink of his. He had never let himself come on your breasts or spill on your stomach. It wasn’t a surprise he had come inside of the wife in question, and it would have done essentially what he was proposing doing with water this time, just on a smaller scale.

When you didn’t respond, Negan continued. “Now, I didn’t mind the mess. You can’t love ass as much as I do and be bothered by a little shit now and then. But she was horrified. Made me get rid of the sheets and never agreed to any ass action again. Not even a finger. I don’t wanna risk that with you.”

“So you want to make me shit in my shower instead of shitting on your sheets?” you asked with an uncomfortable laugh.

Negan was unamused. “No, I would use that.” He accompanied the explanation with a gesture to the corner, where a small plug and a bottle of lube sat. You definitely didn’t remember him bringing them in with him, so this had likely been part of his plan for some time. “We would get you nice and clean so we don’t have to worry about a mess later. Though we’ll probably use a plug afterward, too, just to keep the mess down.”

“I still don’t think this is necessary,” you told him, though you could see why he thought this was a good idea.

“I think it is,” Negan countered. “I want this, but I won’t lie to you and tell you it’s something it’s not. No tricks, no fibs, no regrets. Any time you’re thinking about doing ass stuff, there’s stuff that can feel embarrassing or weird. I want you to know that going in. Is this still something you want? You can say no. I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll get over it.”

You returned the smile he offered you with the last sentence, though yours was significantly more sickly than his. Suddenly robbed of your ability to make eye contact with him, you nodded slowly, then turned to face the bench seat built into the shower. You bent over it, reaching back to hold yourself open for him.

“Oh, doll,” Negan said warmly. “You’re not even gonna feel this, then I’ll make the rest of it feel so fuckin’ good…”

He aimed the gentle jet of water between your cheeks, finding the exact spot a moment later. The spray was the perfect temperature - you were thankful, as always, that the Sanctuary had rigged up a rudimentary water heating system - but Negan had been wrong: you could definitely feel it as the water pierced that tight ring of muscle. It didn’t help that he countered your reflexive squirm by pressing the showerhead directly against the cheeks of your ass.

When you felt you couldn’t take any more, you twitched your hips. “Negan, I…”

“Stay just like that,” he urged you. “I’m gonna get the plug. You hold as much of that in as you can.”

Letting a plug in while holding so much water was an interesting process, but you managed. Once it had settled and you relaxed, Negan sank to his knees, urging you to turn and face him.

“What are you doing?” you asked, though you knew exactly what he was doing.

“If we’re gonna do this, I want you to come as much as possible,” he explained. “It’ll make things easier later on, but I also want you to enjoy it. Now come over here.”

It was a tempting offer, you couldn’t deny that. Negan was extremely talented when it came to eating you out, both his lips and tongue proving to be as dextrous as his delicious fingers. But you shook your head anyway.

Negan frowned at you, but it was more pouty than truly disapproving. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel like I’ve got a gallon of water up my ass,” you told him with an embarrassed grin. “Plus, the sooner we finish up, the sooner you can do your work for the day and get back here.”

“Fine,” he agreed with a sigh. His knees cracked as he stood and he looked so disgruntled as he turned off the water that you couldn’t fight a laugh. That put additional pressure on the plug, though, so your mirth was short-lived.

As you climbed out of your shower and let Negan begin drying you off, you glanced down and frowned deeply. “What the fuck?”

Negan started to ask something, but cut himself off with a chuckle as you poked at your lower stomach. The difference was minimal, perhaps even imaginary, but you would swear your belly was bloated with the pressure of the water. Negan patted the roundness dry with a towel-covered hand firm enough to make you squeeze your cheeks around the base of the plug.

“Let’s get that plug out,” he said eventually, guiding you over toward the toilet. This abruptly seemed like a terrible idea and you wanted to get back into the shower, but Negan had already gripped the plug’s base and started to pull.

You weren’t thinking too closely about the way it would work, but Negan managed to remove the plug so slowly that your gripping muscles were able to keep up with the taper of it and hold everything inside. When it was gone and he had set the plug aside, your muscles cramped and you pushed at Negan’s shoulders.

“Okay, I need you to get out.”

To your horror, Negan shook his head. “I’m not here to enjoy the good stuff and leave you to do the work alone. I’m here.”

“Negan, I can’t-”

He hooked a hand around the back of your knee and pulled, leaving you sitting down on the toilet as you protested. Negan was unimpressed, setting a hand against your lower stomach and pushing until your body emptied itself.

It wasn’t as bad as you had feared, though you could safely say that it wasn’t going to turn into a new kink. When you had finished, you lifted your face from where you had buried it against Negan’s stomach and cleaned yourself up while he stepped away to rinse the plug.

You followed him to the sink to wash your hands and he stepped up beside you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart. I know this is a lot of work, but I’m gonna make it worthwhile for you.”

“I know you will,” you agreed softly, smiling at him in the mirror.

Negan smiled back, opening a drawer beside you. “Bend for me one more time.”

You groaned. “Negan, I’m a little sore from all of that.”

“I know, but we have to get you stretched before tonight,” he told you. “If we’re going to do this-”

“We’re going to do this,” you insisted. If you had gone through all of that for nothing, you were going to be furious.

“Then I need you to bend and spread ‘em,” Negan replied, giving you just as serious a look as you were giving him, despite the fact that the looks were exchanged through the mirror over your sink.

After a second of self-indulgent displeased frowning, you sighed, taking a wider stance and leaning over the counter until your chest pressed against the coolness of the flat surface.

“Good girl,” Negan murmured as he dipped a lube-slicked finger to press against your sensitive rear.

After making sure you were prepared enough, he pressed the tip of a plug to you. It wasn’t the same one he had used in the shower, you could feel that clearly. In fact, it didn’t seem like anything you had used before. Despite the lube and the preparation, you were feeling stretched almost to discomfort. You glanced up to look at Negan’s face, but his attention was focused downward. Instead, you made eye contact with yourself, sharing a glance that was almost panicked as your body struggled to relax around the widest point of the plug.

Negan seemed to pause there, pinning you on the edge of an incredible stretch before your body would be allowed to narrow once more around the plug’s stem. When you felt him move, it was only to twist the plug gently rather than allow you to step back from that edge.

“It’s big,” you grunted out, fingers digging into the countertop.

“I’m bigger,” he said, managing to sound both apologetic and proud. “We’ve got to get you used to this before tonight.”

You understood his point, but it was a lot… despite the dark, sharp pleasure you could feel steadily building inside of you. You pressed your forehead to the counter and groaned for him rather than continue arguing.

Somehow, that seemed to convince him to move on and he allowed your body to pull the plug inside, your stretched muscle settling firmly around the plug’s stem. You were breathing faster from the experience and the way the plug felt settling heavily inside of you, but you still found the air to let out a moan when Negan’s fingers parted your folds and began stroking your clit in long, gentle passes.

The pleasure was intense, heightened by the stretch in your ass and all of the new sensations your body had undergone in the past day. When Negan’s other hand wandered back to tug and twist the plug’s base, your body locked down and spasmed until you cried out Negan’s name, flattening even further against the counter.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” Negan growled, nipping at your neck while you tried to catch your breath. He patted your ass and stepped back. “Go ahead out. I’m gonna get this lube off of my hands. Maybe the long way.”

You grinned and leered as he began to tug at the hard-on that had steadily grown during the last few minutes. You kept watching as you slipped on a pair of loose pants and a tank top from your bathroom floor. With that finished, you did as Negan had suggested and left the bathroom - though he protested loudly that you would miss the show he was putting on for you.

For the second time in two days, walking presented an unexpected challenge. While the beads had been stimulating, they hadn’t been big, and you had been able to move normally after you grew used to the sensations. The plug was something entirely different. It felt like your legs were struggling to move normally around it, though you knew that was anatomically improbable.

In any case, you were less than thrilled to leave your bathroom and find Simon sitting at the small table in your room. He looked at you apologetically. “Sorry to interrupt. Negan’s wives said he was here. Wait, why are you walking like you’ve got a stick up your-? Never mind.”

The words were undercut with a gleeful tone and a mischievous look. Your face burned. There were no bathroom exhaust fans in the post-apocalyptic world, which was already far more quiet than it had been before. There were good odds that he had heard you shouting Negan’s name in the bathroom and drawn conclusions. Not to mention that he had probably caught Negan’s mid-masturbatory complaints.

Those conclusions seemed to be confirmed when you tried to sit at the table as well, but flinched noticeably when the motion jostled the plug inside of you. Simon only laughed harder.

Negan came out of the bathroom, hands behind his back and a line creased between his brows as he joined you at the table.

“I see you two were having a little fun,” Simon said, voice thick with laughter. “I can’t figure out if I should have gotten here earlier or later.”

Negan chuckled for a moment and you felt the beginnings of shame rising up in you. As a rule, you weren’t ashamed of yourself or your choices when it came to pleasure. You liked what you liked, and as long as no one got hurt, the only opinions you needed to worry about were your own or maybe those of a partner. But something about the taboo of this situation left you feeling uncomfortable, as if your privacy had been breached. You felt like you should be ashamed. It wasn’t a feeling that you liked.

Apparently, Negan agreed. In a casual move, he revealed what he had been holding behind his back: a plug. Actually, it looked too long and thick to be a plug. Maybe it was a dildo, though you had no idea why he was carrying it around.

In any case, he planted it on the surface of the table and all three of you watched, captivated, as it swayed back and forth in a manner that was slightly ridiculous to see.

“I only take opinions of people who have experience in a topic,” Negan remarked casually. “You want to talk shit, Simon? Bend over and say hello to your new best friend. If not? Shut the fuck up.”

Every trace of Simon’s mirth died instantly and he shook his head, eyes still locked on the dick on the table. “Sorry, boss. That situation from yesterday is still happening. We need you downstairs.”

“I’ll meet you down there,” Negan agreed. “Now get out.”

If Simon had left any faster, he would have tripped over his own feet.

In the silence, you asked, “That’s not what I have-”

“Fuck, no,” Negan denied, knowing what you were going to ask. “The only ass that’s ever been in is mine.”

“You-?”

Negan grinned, flashing his white teeth at you. “Be pretty shitty of me to have everyone else take it up the ass if I’ve never experienced it myself, wouldn’t it? I like ass play - giving or receiving. Giving a little more, but I don’t object to a little playtime. Everything I’m asking you to do, I’ve done myself.”

You had to admit, that raised your already high opinion of Negan a little further. And sparked some ideas for the future.

Before you could consider sharing either realization, Negan grew serious once more. “I need you to keep that plug in, doll. If you have to take it out, put it back in as soon as possible. If you can’t get it yourself, come find me. If you feel the urge to get off, do it. I want you to come as many times as possible today. Just don’t wear yourself out before I get back, okay?”

You agreed and Negan kissed you on the forehead before he left.

Since it was your day off, you didn’t have a lot going on. You read for a while, did some cleaning and sewed a hole in your Savior uniform cargo pants, but you eventually felt the need to leave your room.

Yes, it was a bit uncomfortable walking with the plug in, but you managed. Even walking normally, however, it felt as if you were waddling around the Sanctuary. You didn’t get strange looks or anything, but your stride felt… off.

You watched your movements in reflections thrown by glass and metal around the area, but saw nothing noticeable. Since you knew it was all in your head, you made a point of staying out. Besides, you had agreed to go to Negan’s room that night, and you didn’t want to wait around any longer than necessary.

As you did errands around the Sanctuary, you nodded at people you knew, including Negan himself. He waited until you had passed him almost completely before pinching your ass. The surprise of it tightened your muscles and you gasped as the plug flexed in your ass. When you turned to glare at Negan, though, he winked and licked his lips before continuing in the direction he had been going before.

Eventually, the sunlight streaming through the Sanctuary’s windows grew orange and began to dim. You went to Negan’s apartment at the top of the building, letting yourself in quietly. There didn’t seem to be much of a point in being sneaky, however. The wives - typically found sprawling around the main room - were either being incredibly quiet in their own rooms or gone from the apartment. You had no idea where they would have gone, but you couldn’t deny that you liked the idea of having the place to yourself and Negan.

When you got to Negan’s room, you did your best to make yourself comfortable… though the large bottle of lube sitting on the side table felt menacing. No position allowed for you to relax, however, and you eventually decided that your clothing was the problem. It was comfortable enough, but it would feel better if you were bare.

You undressed and ended up lying on your stomach on Negan’s bed, thighs splayed to accommodate the way your cheeks naturally gaped around the base of the plug. Negan would be there soon, you reminded yourself. Hopefully, he would be there soon. Between the plug shifting inside of you and the bottle of lube staring down at you, you couldn’t decide if you were growing ever-more eager or starting to lose your nerve.

“What a fuckin’ sight to come home to,” Negan drawled from the doorway. You glanced over your shoulder at him to find that he was unzipping his jeans as he spoke. “You look so sexy for me, doll. How’s that ass feel?”

“Full,” you told him, curving your spine and presenting your ass in a way that felt both pornographic and ridiculous. Negan groaned and his hand flew to grip himself, so you pushed away anything other than how sexy he looked and how sexy you felt. “How does it look?”

“Full,” Negan echoed as you watched the muscles in his forearm flex. “But I’m gonna fill it up even more. Are you ready for me?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. The near-constant movements of the plug had kept your attention focused on your ass, and you were almost overwhelmed with your own eagerness to have Negan take you there. “How much longer are you gonna make me wait?”

Negan’s eyes were so dark you couldn’t differentiate between iris and pupil as he climbed onto the bed. “Just a little longer. Turn over.”

You did, groaning when the plug shifted with you. Without a single bit of warning, Negan threw your legs over his shoulders and lowered his face to your core. You were so shocked by the way he dove headfirst into bringing you to orgasm that you could only clutch at his head and gape at the ceiling. He thrust his tongue into your core and you wondered vaguely if he could feel the shape of the plug through your walls. You could feel the way it shifted under his onslaught.

Then Negan did two things simultaneously that sent your world spinning: he sucked at your clit and he began gently wiggling the plug inside of you.

In only moments, your body had shattered for him, imploding and exploding at the same time as you wriggled under him and cried his name. The spasming of your muscles only increased when he slowly but inexorably pulled the plug from the depths of your body.

By the time your orgasm finally began to ebb, Negan had shifted to lean over you. “Ya feelin’ okay, doll?”

You considered that for a moment. That was the hardest you had come since you and Negan had stopped seeing each other as often. It had been far too long… but you found yourself even more desperate than you had been before. It was as if each orgasm only pushed you further, increased your desperation for him until you were seething with it.

“Fuck me, Negan,” you ordered, voice as strong as you could muster. “I need you now.”

Finally, finally, he didn’t argue with you. Instead, Negan began spreading lube on himself and you until everything reached some kind of threshold he hadn’t shared. He aligned the head of his cock with your ass and you both took a breath as he began to press inside.

The stretch was intense. More than intense, it was unfathomable. You had been left sweating and shaking after your orgasm, but those only increased as Negan pierced you with the head of his cock and slowly fed the rest of himself into you.

You couldn’t imagine how he was going to fit. Even after being stretched by three of his fingers, your rear entrance was tight and your body was protesting that there was no way it could hold all that it was being asked to… but every time you thought about asking Negan to stop, every part of you protested.

At last, Negan’s hips were pressed flush against you. He lowered his head, breath panting over your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

It took you a few tries to speak, but you croaked out, “I’m fine.”

Negan hummed skeptically. “You’re doin’ great. Feel so fuckin’ good around me, I can hardly stand it. You’re an angel, you have to be. That’s the only explanation how you’ve got heaven inside of you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Cheesy.”

Negan gaped down at you, pretending to be hurt by that. “I’m showing you my soul here and you’re tellin’ me I’m cheesy? If you’re not an angel, doll, how come I’m already thinking about the next time I can be inside of you?”

“Maybe focus on this time,” you suggested, shifting slightly beneath him. From the heat in his eyes, Negan had caught the way your breath skipped at the different angle of his cock inside of you.

“I can’t,” he told you. “If I focus too hard on this time, I won’t be able to hold myself back, and you’re too damn precious for me not to be careful with you.”

“Maybe…” your voice slowed as you gave an experimental squeeze around him. Negan groaned, head tipping back and eyes fluttering closed. “Maybe I’m ready for you not to be so careful.”

“Are you sure, doll?” Negan pressed, focusing on you again despite the concentration it took. “I’d do my best to stop if you needed me to, but I don’t know if I could once I got started. I need you to think about it for me.”

You did, but the throbbing ache taking over your entire pelvis stole a lot of your ability to think as hard as you typically did. Instead, you lifted and dropped your hips a few times, fucking yourself a fraction of an inch on his cock. “I’m sure.”

Negan took you at your word, pressing himself into you and pulling out shallowly, then deeper and deeper until every withdrawal nearly pulled his cock from you completely before thrusting back in so hard that your teeth chattered together. He was bottoming out inside of you, fingers digging into your hips as he hissed out curses and promises under his breath.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl… Lettin’ me fuck this tight ass… Gonna think about this ‘til I die… Gonna come so deep you’ll be dripping me for days…”

You were participating just as passionately as Negan was. Your legs were wrapped around his hips, urging him deeper every time he thrust into you. Your hands alternated between squeezing his ass, raking over the muscles of his back, and rubbing your own clit.

The stretch had dissipated slightly, but it never entirely went away. You were always aware of exactly where his cock was and the newness of the experience, but the sensations were just as maddening and overwhelming as when Negan was inside you in any other way. His murmured praises and bright eyes filled your senses and you found yourself meeting him compliment for compliment. He was an incredible lover, and you were happy you could share this first with him.

“Getting close,” you warned, feeling the way your muscles were beginning to tense.

Negan grabbed your hand from his shoulder and pressed it to the apex of your thighs. “Come for me, doll. Take me over the edge.”

You bit your lip and rubbed your clit, urged faster and faster as Negan picked up speed inside of you. As you felt the coil of need inside of you start to tighten, you dipped an experimental finger into your core. The feeling of Negan’s cock thrusting on the other side of your inner walls was enough to send you spiraling into orgasm.

Everything tightened almost unbearably as your body did its best to lock Negan inside of you. Every muscle pulsed. You cried out something even you didn’t understand as your vision disappeared into a burst of colors and brightness. The last thing you saw was Negan’s upper lip lifting in a determined snarl.

And then he was spearing deep into you, groaning your name as his hips thrust and twitched. You felt a flood of warmth and that filtered through your bliss-soaked mind: Negan had come. You had done it.

When everything had softened and calmed - your tension, your heart rate, the grip of your ass around Negan’s cock - he stroked a hand over the back of your thigh. “I’m about to pull out now, sweetheart.”

You nodded, giving a hastily muffled whimper at the way he felt sliding from your tired entrance. He muttered soothing nonsense, wiping his softening length and rolling back toward you with something in his hands. “Gonna put this plug in now, then we can relax.”

You groaned dramatically and he chuckled. “It’s either plug you up or take you to the bathroom right now. Which do you want?”

“The plug, I guess,” you agreed, letting him arrange your legs so that they were further apart and he had clear access to everything he needed. “But only because my knees aren’t working right now.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Negan agreed, slipping the plug into you without much of a challenge. You supposed anything would fit into you easily after the stretch of him. “Wanna just lay here for a while?”

“More than anything,” you told him honestly.

Negan chuckled, dropping a kiss onto your lips as he gathered you close, wrapping every limb around you until you fell asleep in the warm tangle of him.

---

Author's Note - To everyone who was kind enough to leave feedback on the first chapter or express interest in asks, I hope this scratched the itch to see more of these two! Thank you for reading!

I don't offer a taglist for explicit fics, but you can find more of my works on my masterlist!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2023 #fanficfebruary #the walking dead #the walking dead fic #reader insert #reader insert fic #reader insert smut #the walking dead reader insert #twd negan #negan #negan x reader #negan x you #smut #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

4 notes · View notes

kimjun · 5 months

Text

girls are like “I want a boyfriend” but reject everyone because none of them are their comfort characters

8K notes · View notes

dreamtofus · 17 days

Text

I just want to thank anyone and everyone who writes fanfic

like wdym this masterpiece is FREE

ps reblog ur fav fics.

515 notes · View notes

tinachristeen · 1 year

Text

Photos of You

Fem!Reader x Subbish!Daryl Dixon

word count: 20,498 (I hope)

NSFW.

Warnings: Explicit, full of horny, Minors DNI. Pillow humping, Sexual photographs, Vaginal sex, Oral sex, Talks of alcohol, vague talks of Daryl's child abuse. That's pretty much it, can't think of any more trigger warnings.

"Hey, look what I found!"

Daryl turned his head away from what he was currently occupied with, a box full of abandoned books in the corner of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rick had sent you and Daryl to scavenge for, well, anything useful actually. The children needed new books to read, The pantry could always use more food, And you can never have too many medical supplies in an apocalypse. you and Daryl had thought you hit the jackpot when you came across an old, rather large, thrift shop with enough clothing and books to keep Alexandria stocked for a while. Daryl even found a recliner he seemed to like. Unfortunately, the universe has decided to make your lives a billion times more difficult ( as usual) by sending a decent-sized herd in your direction. you both made it out fine, with only a few bruises and at least 50 of the undead bastards still on your tail, so you both decided to look for a place to wait them out until morning. and like a beacon of light shining in the cold, damp night air, you both stumbled across a dilapidated shack with a set of metal doors protruding from the ground beside it. thinking it was your best chance at a safe shelter for the night, Daryl quietly opened the doors and moved down the stairs to scan the room for potential threats. Once he gave the all-clear, you shut the doors tightly and not even five minutes later, heard the shifting and shambling of the rotting undead above your heads.

turning on your flashlight, you scanned the room to take in your surroundings. it looked to be a makeshift bunker of some kind. It was pretty large, walls made from some kind of metal. In the left corner of the room, there was a bunk bed with gray sheets, colorful quilts, and rather comfy looking pillows. In the right corner, a little kitchenette with various appliances and cabinets for storage. In the middle of the room there was a wooden table with two folding chairs, cards and other assorted items strewn about the surface. you had to admit, besides how cold it was

"Do you think anybody lives here?" you asked Daryl as he started rummaging through cabinets to look for spare supplies. You watched as he brought two fingers down and gave the counter a quick swipe.

"Nah. S' a lotta dust"

You moved further into the room towards the table, where a storm lantern sat, untouched for months or even years. you pulled out your metal zippo lighter and palmed it fondly for a second. Daryl had given this to you months ago and it was one of your prized possessions to date. You recalled a time when you thought he would never give you a gift, or even talk to you for that matter. When you two first met, he wouldn't even look at you and only threw you the occasional snarl, and now he was one of your closest friends. He had really grown as a person since Atlanta... And you had grown fond of him.

Snapping back to reality, you tried to focus on the task at hand, lighting the lantern. with a single flick, the lighter produced a perfect flame. The damn thing was always reliable. The lantern roared to life and gave the room a soft orange glow. You moved around the room, lighting the other three lanterns that were meticulously hung for optimal lighting. You glanced over to ask Daryl a question, but it died on your lips as your eyes found him. From where you were standing, you had a perfect side view of his face. The light hit him as it danced in flickering shadows across his features. He knelt over a chest filled with blankets on the floor, concentration painted on his knitted brow. He looked pretty like this, his bangs falling lightly over his eyes while he moved about. He stuck his tongue out in concentration, one of his many admirable idiosyncrasies, like when he fidgets with something in his fingertips, or rubs his chin with the back of his hand.

You break from your thoughts again, mentally scolding yourself for once again getting side-tracked thinking about Daryl. You decide to at least try and look around for things that could be useful, focusing on a nightstand next to the bunk beds. It was a shoddy thing, looked like it was built out of a pallet and nailed together by a blind child. It had a drawer though, so that was a start. opening it, you find quite a few... interesting things. A chain of at least 15 condoms, a really expensive looking vibrator, a polaroid camera, a few boxes of film, and some already taken photos. Upon closer inspection, the photos revealed a couple in some very compromising positions. One photo in particular was a view of a woman laid out on a bed, sweaty and tense, breasts on display for the camera with her back to the sheets. You immediately begin striding over towards where Daryl was hunched over a box with an amused look on your face.

"Hey, look what I found!"

Daryl turned his head away from what he was currently occupied with, a box full of books in the corner of the room.

"whatcha got there?"

You lower your hand, silently offering the pictures to him. He flicks his head to the side, effectively moving his bangs from his eyes for a better look. His cheeks fired up as he flipped through each picture and felt the embarrassment welling up in his chest.

"These too," you said lightly as you held up the chain of condoms and the vibrator with an amused look in your eye.

Daryl's blush spread from his cheeks to his shoulders, and his ears were comparable to the color of a ripe strawberry at that point.

"Some couple back a' Alexandria gon' enjoy 'em," He managed to utter. But oh, how he wished it was the two of you putting them to use instead.

"Oh hell no! this bad boy is mine!" you said, holding up the vibrator, "They can have the condoms though."

Daryl did NOT need that image in his head right now. Of you all laid out, that thing going between your legs, your moans filling his ears, maybe his name spilling from your lips...

The truth is, Daryl had been harboring a crush on you since the prison. He had to admit, the beginning of your relationship with him had a rough start. He was mean to you for no reason other than he was too scared to get close to you. Wasn't any easier with Merle in his ear all the time, "Tha' girl ain' gon' wantchu baby brother. you're just a lowlife." But after Merle was gone, Daryl had slowly realized that he hurt you over time. You avoided him around camp and used every excuse in the book to prevent spending any time with him. When Hershel's farm burned down and the group was on the run, Daryl would ask Rick to give him as many watch shifts as he could with you. And when the group found the prison, He did the same thing. Taking shifts with you up in the guard towers, bringing extra snacks he found on runs with him so you two could eat. Eventually, Rick started pairing the two of you up on runs, and you two made a flawless team. you both maneuvered expertly, like you were fine tuned to each other's movements and reactions. You both worked on the same brain wave, which came in handy when you needed to make quick decisions on an impulse. And eventually, the archer began to develop feelings for you. At first, he would find himself looking at you, admiring how your body moved when you took out walkers on the fence. Then he started thinking about you, finding little things on runs that reminded him of you and pondering o if you would like them or not. He didn't usually bring them back though, Merle still in his head telling him that it didn't matter how many gifts he gave you, you still would never see him like that. Eventually, the thoughts wandered. They progressed, and sometimes even followed him into the confines of his cell late at night, swirling in his head like a catchy song.

click.

The sudden sound caught him off guard. He looked up to see you chuckling to yourself with that bright smile he adored. He would do anything to see you smile like that, even if it killed him. He watched you with adoring eyes as you pulled the freshly taken picture from the slit in the camera and shook it back and forth. He felt embarrassment creeping up his neck again when you took a look at the photo and smiled. He took a deep breath to compose himself and choked out, "ya gon' lemme see the damn picture r' wha'?." He's trying his hardest to sound nonchalant, but deep down he was nervous, and sweat forming on his palms was certainly showing it.

You hand him the picture, and he replies with a scoff. "tch! I look ridiculous," He remarked while throwing the picture down on the floor.

"No, I think you look great."

He stiffened at that. Fuck! one more thing he's going to think about later when he's alone. He could already feel himself growing in his pants as he groans just low enough so you can't hear. 'Really? jus' a compliment 's giving ya' a hard on? c'mon man,' He reprimanded himself in thought. The silence thickened, as you shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot with a sad-ish look on your face. 'Oh shit, she thinks she made ya' upset. respond asshol-"

"Well, I guess we should eat," you said, cutting off his thought process.

'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,' "Sure." 'you fucking coward'.

After that, you both sat down to eat your glamorous dinner of canned pork and beans. The uncomfortable energy had faded at that point, which was another thing Daryl loved about you so much. You never dwelled on anything longer than necessary, and you always knew how to make the mood right. When you got up to go get something from the kitchenette, Daryl couldn't help but replay what you said in his mind. 'You look great,' what did you mean by that? maybe he imagined the whole thing. Yeah, that must be it. His eyes drifted down to the legs of your now empty chair in thought, where your backpack was propped. And maybe he was imagining this too, but he could swear he saw the corner of a polaroid picture sticking out of the front pocket...

That night he laid down on the bottom bunk of the bed in quiet thought, agonizing over his lack of response earlier, thinking about the picture. He wondered if you would silently resent him now because of it, or even more, he wondered if you wouldn't take his picture again. He always hated having his picture taken as a child. Once in a while, his mother would pretend to give a shit and try to take family photos to hang on the walls. He hated the pictures she took because his bruises were always visible, almost as if to taunt and humiliate him when he'd walk by the frames in the hallway. He's been sour towards pictures ever since, avoiding them like the plague. That was, until about an hour ago. He found himself hoping you would take pictures of him, even with him maybe. God, he would let you do anything to him as long as it made you smile.

His thoughts wandered again, making his cock stiffen in the tight confines on his jeans. Fuck! He couldn't do this now, you were asleep right above him! The thought of you catching him made the burning feeling in his core worse somehow, as his pants became uncomfortably snug. He flipped over on his stomach in an attempt to diffuse the situation that had been building since the two of you entered this godforsaken bunker, but failed miserably when his sensitive tip brushed against the mattress, causing him to hiss out in pleasure. Fuck, he was a goner. Just then, he noticed the flannel shirt you had left on the floor next to the bunks. He felt shame at the idea that flashed across his mind, but convinced himself that it wouldn't hurt. He was about to do something he hadn't done since he was a horny highschooler. He pulled your flannel up onto the bed by the sleeve and brought it to his nose, taking a big whiff of the area around the neckline. He groaned in satisfaction and flipped on his back as he pushed his pillow on top of his hips and placed your shirt over his face. He reached down, lifting his hips off the bed just enough so he could free his red, throbbing, cock and push it against the surface of the pillow. The contact made him dizzy with anticipation as he thought about what he was going to do. He started moving his hips up in a thrusting, grinding motion slowly so as to not wake you up, moaning a little with each pull and push.

He thought of you as he chased his pleasure, as he always did. He thought of your hips and how they swayed when you walked. He thought of your hands, and how they felt that one day you grabbed his arm to show him something. He thought about that time you insisted on putting his hair in a ponytail, and how was he going to deny you when you looked all sweet and happy? The feeling of your fingers pulling at his hair to get it in the hair tie will be forever engraved into his brain. He thought about you on top of him, riding him while he holds that vibrator to your clit and brings you to your climax.

He whimpered a little bit, pushing the shirt into his face to envelope himself in your scent. you smelled so good to him, like that lavender soap you loved and leather books. The best goddamn smell in the world, or at least he thought so. His hips started to speed up as he became dangerously close to his high. The stark contrast in temperature between his hot, twitching dick and the cool, soft pillow sent shivers down his spine. The friction, The thought of you, Your smell, Your hands, Your mouth. It was slowly becoming too much for him to handle. He needed to cum. He needed to cum to you, FOR you. Then a thought hit him, what if you kept the polaroid because you were attracted to him? what if you kept it because you wanted to... use it. What if you thought about him like this, all sweaty and desperate for you??

That was it, That thought is what made his nerve endings light up all over. His climax came in white hot flashes of pure pleasure, His thick cock spurting long streams of warm cum all over his pillow and bare stomach. He moaned wildly into your shirt as he bit down on the collar, riding out the waves of his orgasm with reckless abandon and no concern for noise.

He laid there slick with sweat and semen, his hair stuck to his face and neck, breathing heavily as he shivered through the post orgasm cooldown. He stayed there for a good minute, still giving little thrusts that made him whine with sensitivity from the overstimulation. Ridiculing himself in shame over what had just happened, He slowly placed your flannel back on the floor where it had previously been and tucked himself back into his pants. He would just clean himself later. However, When he pulled his pillow back up to his head, he realized his mistake. in all his horny desperation, he had forgotten about the fact he had just cum on his pillow with no way to clean it. 'Way ta go dumbass, ya' ruined yer only pillow.' He shook his head as he threw the pillow under the bed and laid back down. Only one slightly embarrassing thought still crossed his mind before he fell asleep, 'I wonder if she'll take more pictures of me.'

Little did he know, that's exactly what would happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning came, and aside from the shame Daryl felt deep in his gut, the day went pretty well. You returned to the store you two were at the previous day, loading everything you could fit into the storage truck (especially Daryl's chair) and heading for home. The ride home had an awkward air to it, even though you tried your best to lighten the mood with jokes and gossip about the people of Alexandria. Daryl just couldn't keep the conversation going, too busy thinking about last night.

He lit a cigarette and opened the window to get some fresh air. You took notice of how the afternoon sun made his skin shine, and how his lips wrapped around the damn thing perfectly.

click

Daryl turned to you, watching you shake out the film again and giving it a good look.

"S' this gon' be a thing now?"

"Oh, absolutely."

He let a small smirk grace his lips and heard another click to his right.

"What? I rarely see you smile," You said, defending against his scrutinizing look. You gave the photo in your hand another studious glance. God, he was pretty. from the long, brown hair that graced his forehead, down to the stubble on his chin you dreamed about rubbing on your thighs. What would it feel like to have those angular lips drag across your body with need and desire? What sensations would those rough, callused hands make you feel? You bet he's rather dexterous on account of all the whittling he does with those arrows, and the pure skill his fingers use to expertly skin a deer. You bet he's really good at applying pressure in all the right places...

"Hey! Daryl, what the hell?"

Your attention is gripped by Daryl grabbing the camera from your lap with one hand and bringing it up to his face in one swift motion. He snaps a picture of you and glances at the road while he waits for it to print.

"'S my turn, sunshine."

Was he... Trying to be playful right now? The only other time he was playful was that night when you were both up in the guard tower and you challenged him to a game of knife throwing, to which he responded with a competitive grin and a, 'You're on.' You both threw your knives at a very well made target you had drawn yourself that was taped to the pole in the middle of the tower. The rules were simple, First person to hit the bullseye would emerge victorious. After three or four throws, you landed the shot perfectly, causing Daryl to sarcastically accuse you of cheating. Those nights in the tower were some of your favorite memories. Snacks shared over mutual silence, just enjoying each other's company and occasionally talking about random stuff. Such a simpler time.

"Are you gonna let me see the damn picture or what?" You remark, mocking him about the comment last night.

"Nah, don' think so." He retorted, taking a drag from his cigarette and puffing it in your direction.

You faked an offended look, watching him stuff the picture into his back pocket. You think nothing of it as you both make your last turn towards home...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Rick took it upon himself to throw a party for the new group that had arrived at the gates. You had to hand it to Him, The idea to put signs up on the major roads and train tracks had been a huge success. Alexandria had gained quite a few new members since then, most of which were actually decent people, which was hard to come by these days.

You invited Rosita over so you two could pick out clothes and do makeup together. You enjoyed quality girl time since You didn't have any sisters growing up. Rosita always helped you piece together outfits for these events, she was the self-proclaimed best stylist in Alexandria, not that you would disagree.

You stood in front of the mirror, Feeling the fabric of the dress between your fingertips. It was cute, a red sun dress that hugged your hips and showed off a considerable amount of cleavage. She paired it with a set of black strappy heels that accentuated your calves nicely. She also insisted on you keeping your hair up with two strands down in the front to, "make your collarbones and cheeks really stick out," or whatever.

"Damn mama, You look sexy as hell in that dress, I'm jealous. Daryl's going to love it."

You threw her a sour look.

"What? you know I'm right."

Deep down, you knew she was. "I just don't think he likes me like that Rosa," You said with a sigh. You gave yourself another look in the mirror with a droopy expression.

"That's a lie. Anyone would take the chance to be with you. If I swung the other way, I would sleep with you the minute I saw you, hermosa. And I KNOW Tara would too, That girl has a looking problem."

"Rosita!" You turn back to her with a shocked laugh.

She just shrugged and continued on, "What about that thing you told me about?"

" 'Sita..."

"You saw that man on the bottom bunk of that bed, Masturbating, right underneath you! And you still don't think he has a thing for you?"

You started to feel flushed, "That probably wasn't because of me."

"you're oblivious. Wait! was it big?"

"Oh. My. God. Stop."

Rosita cocked an eyebrow at you, expecting an answer.

"I- I didn't get a good look. It was dark and I didn't want to invade his privacy like that, so I just popped my head back up."

You remembered hearing him breathing heavily and dropping your head over the side to see if he was okay, Only to be met with the sounds of moans and whines and his face covered in some sort of cloth. probably to keep himself quiet so he didn't wake you... It definitely didn't work. You hate to admit it, but you listened to him carry on for another few minutes. Hearing him whine and moan so close to you had your underwear soaked and your legs rubbing together. When he reached his climax, it took everything you had not to make any noise. He was so vocal, and you were just aching for any kind of relief.

You couldn't help but touch yourself after you were sure he had fallen asleep.

"Bor-ring." Rosita said with a disappointed look, followed by her ushering you to come closer so she could start on your makeup. "Next time, Hop down there and assist him."

You chuckled, "Unfortunately, Rosi, I don't think there will be a next time. Now hurry up so I can start on you!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl heard a knock on his front door and shuffled off his new chair and up the stairs to answer it. He was not at all surprised to see Rick on his front stoop, holding a bag in his hand.

"What'd Ya want? M' not goin' to tha' damn party, so ya' might as well stop tryin'."

Rick knew Daryl hated these parties, but had to attempt to sway him to come anyway. When Daryl walked back into the house, Rick followed in hot pursuit all the way to his room in the basement.

"Come on, brother. Just give it a chance, you might enjoy yourself," Rick said as he stepped through the doorway.

Daryl flopped down on the wooden chair that he had pulled out from his workbench to face Rick, " 'S not gon' happen."

Rick had seen the way Daryl looked at you, like a desperate puppy who couldn't breathe unless in your presence. He was about to play dirty, but this was his last resort.

"Y/N is gonna be there."

For a split fraction of a second, Rick saw a hint of excitement in his eyes. But just as quickly as it was there, it was gone.

"an' why's tha' matter?"

Rick walked towards Daryl with the bag still in hand, lowering his voice a bit.

"Wouldn't you like to look at her in person instead of staring at that picture you like so much?"

Daryl stayed silent. He couldn't trust his voice not to come out shakey.

"Here, I brought you some clothes and some other stuff."

Rick tossed the bag in Daryl's lap. Daryl opened the bag to find a pair of charcoal dress pants and a dark green button up shirt, along with what looked like hair gel.

" 'M not wearin' this shit." He said with a disgusted look on his face. "Don't even know how ta'."

"I can help you, And she'd like it. you know I'm right."

Daryl grunted in response, embarrassment welling up in his chest.

"Fine."

"Good. Now take a shower and put those on and I'll help with the rest." Rick said as he walked out of the room. "I'll be waiting out here.

Daryl drug his feet to the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom and started stripping layers. As the water started to run, he got lost in thought. If Rick could tell he liked you, did you know too? What if you saw him and laughed at him because he looked dumb? Rick better know what he's talking about. He picked up his bar of soap and got to work on his legs, scrubbing vigorously until his skin had a pink tint to it. Now he was getting a little self conscious, trying to make sure his skin and hair was clean for you. He really would do anything to see you smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I look ridiculous."

"No you don't, now sit down and hand me the comb."

Rick was a persistent son of a bitch, Daryl had to give him that.

Rick ran the comb through Daryl's wet hair, slicking it all back and adding in some gel as he went.

"Alright, looks good! Oh, just one more thing." He unbuttoned the first two buttons on Daryl's shirt, causing him to let out an uncomfortable groan.

"Never leave the top two buttoned, Girls love to see a little chest."

Daryl threw the comb in Rick's direction as Rick dodged it and laughed. "I used to do this for my little cousin, He was a few years younger than me and he loved it."

"ya well 'm glad ya had yer fun, playin' dress up like I'm a damned doll."

Rick just chuckled in response and exchanged goodbyes so he could go get dressed and ready himself.

Daryl looked in the bathroom mirror, His nerves were getting the better of him. What was he doing? pretending like he wasn't redneck trash and dressing like an idiot. If Merle could see him now, he'd be having a field day with this. How was he even going to talk to you like this? You'd probably be too busy laughing to talk.

Well, at least he would see you smiling.

He shook the thoughts away and mentally prepared himself for the shitshow this was about to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rick smiled to himself as he entered his room to change.

He was happy to help his brother with any lady issues.

He was even happier that Rosita had come to him with this idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You slowly approached the front door to the party, silently wishing Rosita had never talked you into this. "Damn Rosita! And damn rick and his stupid parties." You thought to yourself as you took a deep breath in and closed your fingers around the chilled door knob. With a deep breath, you opened the door and stepped inside.

The smell is what hit you first. Warm, home-cooked food and alcohol. A soft, upbeat tune played from somewhere deeper into the house. Before you could even process what was happening, Maggie had walked up to you, grabbed you by the hand, and pulled you into a circle of people to chat, muttering something about needing to introduce you to the new people. You met a few new folks, Including some new guy named Mitch who was an architect before the world fell apart. you two got to talking, but in all honesty, you were only half paying attention once you realized Daryl wasn't there.

As if the universe listened to your thoughts, the door slowly creaked open and in came Rick and Daryl. And he looked... wow. All thoughts escaped you as you looked him up and down. He cleaned up well, His hair slicked back and that tight-fitting shirt made your head swirl with desire. The two buttons had been popped open at the top, giving you an excellent view of his collar bones and upper chest. Then his eyes met yours, and it was like there was no one else in the room. Quite a few people turned to stare, mostly from your group, probably in surprise at how clean he was. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and decided to throw him a little wave and a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl left his house and started his stride to the party in the brisk, cold night air. "Ya really let Rick talk ya inta this huh? ya stupid bastard, she's gon' laugh atcha when she sees ya like this. swear ta god im gon' kick Rick's ass later." He approached the front door of the event, hearing the music and laughter buzz through the door. He considered going home and changing out of the stupid outfit to save himself the embarrassment, just sitting in his new chair all night and reading one of the books he found on that run last week. He had only been out for ten minutes and already missed the warmth of his bed and the comfort of his old ratty shirt. Just then, he felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around to find Rick smiling at him.

'fuck, too late now. The bastard caught me.'

"You'll be fine."

Daryl just offered a grunt in response as Rick opened the door and led them both inside.

The first thing Daryl noticed was you, it was always you. No matter if you were wearing the dirtiest rags you could find, or the most beautiful thing you owned, he would always be able to pick you out of a crowd. No matter what. The second thing he noticed was what you were wearing, and he would be damned if his heart was still beating after. He raked his eyes over every inch of you he could, taking in every agonizing detail. The black heels made your legs look strong yet delicate at the same time. his hands itched to run his fingers over your thighs while you sat on his lap, taking the pleasure you wanted from him. He longed to leave that red dress that showed the delicious swell of your breast on the floor of his room. When his eyes lifted to yours, he swore the world went quiet. your eyelashes fluttered as if you were trying to figure something out.

'Here it comes.'

But it never did. You only smiled at him and offered a small wave. And he offered one back.

Only then did he realize people were staring at him and he shrunk back into himself. He tore his eyes away from you and started walking towards the kitchen.

'Where's the alcohol?'

He made a B-line for the open liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Bourbon that would be his best friend for the night. He already felt sweaty and was thankful that cologne rick had let him borrow. He was still going to kill him later though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosita swiftly walked towards you and you were already rolling your eyes before she ushered you to an unused corner of the room.

"Tell me you just saw what I saw, because I think I just had a stroke Y/N."

"Stop."

"Girl, that man showered and dressed up for you. His hair is out of his eyes, this may be a marriage proposal."

You had to admit, you were having less than pure thoughts about him right now, specifically his chest, which you thought about on a nightly basis at this point. That shirt brought out his ocean colored eyes perfectly, and you often wondered if you dove deep enough into them, would you ever be able to swim back to the surface? Did you even want to? How would they look closed tightly underneath you in an expression of pleasure? How would his mouth look pleading for more? How would that hair of his look spread out on the floor around his head like a chocolate colored halo?

"I have to admit, He does look rather handsome in that shirt." And you meant it. you REALLY meant it.

"Oh my god! You were totally just having a sex fantasy weren't you?" She said when she saw the ever so slight tint to your cheeks.

"Keep your voice down!"

Rosita gave you a knowing look and smile before you walked away and headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water. Lord knows you could use a cooldown right now. Once at the sink, you pulled a red party cup from the stack on the counter and filled it up with the tap. Turning around, you find Daryl in the corner, sipping a glass of amber liquid.

"Hey."

He looked at you and nodded in response.

Fuck it, why not bite the bullet?

"You look nice. That shirt is a pretty color."

All right. this time his heart might have actually stopped. His body tensed and the room suddenly shot up a few degrees.

'Oh no, no this again. say sum dumbass, tell 'er she looks good'

"Ya- mm," He choked up a bit and lifted the glass in his hand to his lips to take a sip of liquid courage. "Ya look great too. 'S a nice dress."

"Thank you, Rosita lent it to me for the night, along with this tacky purse."

You gestured to the oddly shaped handbag that was draped around your shoulder. The thing was sort of ugly-cute, but it was the only bag large enough to hold the things you wanted to bring tonight. Oh! That reminded you. Somehow without Daryl noticing, you pulled your beloved polaroid camera out and prepared it for a picture. Luckily, Daryl was staring straightforward and lifting his glass for yet another sip, making it the perfect opportunity for a photo.

click

Daryl recognized the sound all too quickly and made an annoyed face. You had been terrorizing him with that camera for the past week. Snapping pictures of him while he was working on his bike or checking the snares outside the wall. You had to have at least 7 of them by now.

He shifted his eyes between you and the camera before you finally lifted the picture to your eyes and smiled.

There was that warm feeling in his chest again.

Your gaze moved from the picture, to him, and back to the picture.

"This one is definitely a keeper."

"pfft, I look ridiculous."

"You look handsome." You have absolutely no idea what just possessed you to say that. you were sure Daryl was going to leave and never come back. Why would you say some stupid shit like that? Why wasn't he saying anything back?

Well, the truth was Daryl was in shock. He must be hallucinating, because He could have sworn you just called him handsome. Were you flirting with him or just being friendly? He tried to come up with something witty to say, but all he came up with was, "Stop."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night moved like molasses in January. You talked with a few other people about upcoming events, future runs, and guard shift schedules. You introduced some of the new people to long time residents of Alexandria you thought they would get along with.

Rick approached Daryl at some point in the night and attempted to get a conversation out of him. Deciding he had enough of Rick's shit for one day, He started towards the porch to have a smoke. Grabbing the bottle of Bourbon, he stumbled a little when he took a few steps and almost fell into the door. Shit, was he really that wasted? Whatever, a little more couldn't hurt. It was a party right?

You noticed him leave the room out the corner of your eye and contemplated following him to make sure he was alright. You felt ridiculous for even thinking like that. Daryl was a grown man who could take care of himself, he didn't need you bothering him all the time. But maybe he would like some company? He never seemed to mind spending time with you, sometimes it seemed like he would even seek it out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air outside was a nice change from the stuffy atmosphere in the house. Stepping out on the porch, you immediately noticed Daryl leaning on the railing, a cigarette between his lips and a bottle of alcohol to his left. You cleared your throat to alert him of your presence and prevent him from getting startled. The moment he saw you, His face broke into a dorky grin and he dropped the cigarette into the ashtray on the banister.

"Hey, 'S you"

Was he drunk?

"Ya here ta see me?" He looked around for other people you could be there to see.

He was so drunk.

"D'ya want sum?" He slurred as he lifted the bottle towards you.

He was wasted.

His eyes looked so happy as he offered you the bottle. You had never seen him like this, it was uncharted territory in your friendship. You realized he was waiting for a response so you just smiled and shook your head no.

"How much have you had?" You said as you approached the banister and leaned on it with one arm.

He lifted the bottle and squinted his eyes at it like he was trying with all his power to see, then brought his thumb and pointer finger to the side. He looked like he was trying, and somewhat failing to measure how much had been taken from the bottle. When he was satisfied with his measurement, he held the two fingers up in your direction.

"'Bout tha' much."

You thought this was the most adorable thing you had ever seen, besides that time Judith had chocolate cake all over her face and threw some at Carl. You sat there admiring Daryl with a smirk as he picked up his cigarette and took a drag, a swig of Bourbon followed closely after.

"Daryl Dixon, you are the pinnacle of health, you know that?"

" 'anks, Got it from ma dad."

Your face drooped a little at that. You remember Daryl telling you stories about his family on one of your late-night guard tower talks. He didn't outright tell you his dad was abusive, but he gave you enough pieces to build a very depressing puzzle. It wasn't a very happy puzzle either. You recalled the story about his 13th birthday. His mom forgot what day it was and His dad passed out on the couch watching old black and white movies. But Merle? Merle tried his best to give his little brother a good day. He bought Daryl a little cake from the convenience store in town and presented it to him at the local park. Daryl always said that Merle could be mean, but he still cared for Daryl as best as he could. As best as he knew how.

You took your camera out of your bag again and Daryl looked at you in sad confusion.

"why ya' always tak'n pictures o' me?"

You sighed and began piecing together your explanation. He probably wouldn't remember any of this anyway, so why not?

"Because you are Beautiful, Everything about you is. You are strong, and capable, and when the light hits you at the right angle, it's impossible to resist saving the moment. Your facial expressions are so unique and rare that it makes me want to capture them all and hang them up for everyone to admire. I would paint murals of you if I could find enough wall space to do so."

You hesitated for a split second before bringing your fingers up to his chin.

"You are the most amazing man I have ever met and you don't even know it, do you?"

He stood perfectly still, but not tense this time. He narrowed his eyes in focus like he was trying to sober up to remember this moment.

"y-ya really think tha'?"

Instead of responding, you just moved to his side and brought the camera up to put you both in frame. You got a little closer to him so your head was almost resting on his arm

"Of course I do."

...

Click

...

You brought the camera back down, Grabbing the fresh film and shaking it to cool it down. You turned over the photo, only to realize Daryl had been staring down at you instead of into the camera. You chuckled as you turned towards him to show him the picture.

"Hey big guy, you were supposed to look a the ca-"

You stopped your sentence when you met his eyes. He was still looking down at you. It felt like he was staring into your soul with puppy eyes and nestling his way into your heart with each passing second.

In all your months of friendship, nothing could have prepared you for what happened next. You felt two arms snake around your back and a head rest on your shoulder before you realized. Daryl Dixon was hugging you. And... sniffling?

"Daryl, are you alright?" You asked, worried you might have hurt him in some way.

No response.

You pulled away from him and saw that his eyes were a little wet, so you brought your thumb up to wipe them away. Normally, you wouldn't even think about being this close because he hated when people touched him. But right now, He looked like he needed it. It hurt you to see his beautiful eyes filled with tears, no one this sweet should cry.

"No ones ever said tha' 'bout me."

Your heart broke just a little bit more.

"Well it's true. Now, I'm going to tell Rick I'm calling it a night. Wait right here so I can walk you home."

Just as you walked away, Daryl grabbed your wrist to get your attention.

"Ya don't have ta leave 'cause of me."

Even when he was drunk, he was still as considerate as ever.

"Honestly, I'm getting sick of being here. It's too hot and my feet are starting to hurt from these damn shoes." You offered with a light-hearted laugh. "I'll only be a second."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Leaving so soon?"

You loved Rick, but sometimes you were really sick of his shit.

"Yeah. I'm taking Daryl home."

He raised a playful eyebrow at you. The asshole.

You sighed with annoyance, "He drank too much and I want to make sure he gets back okay."

"Well, that's very nice of you."

"Shut up rick."

He laughed that annoying laugh and gave you the go ahead to leave while Rosita gave you a look. You swore to yourself at that moment you would never show up to one of these parties ever again for as long as you lived.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, come on." You motioned for Daryl to follow you.

He silently obliged.

"Alright, now give me your arm so I can keep you from falling down the steps."

He held his arm out for you and you wrapped your own around it. When touched him, his skin buzzed from the contact. He had never been this close to you, and his drunk brain questioned why he hadn't tried to sooner.

You successfully led him down the front deck steps and towards the road with few complications. He was still stumbling like a child trying to walk for the first time, and you found it pretty adorable how he put his hands out a little when he felt unstable. You both walked for a few moments in silence until Daryl lost his balance over a curb and fell into you, grabbing you for support, almost sending you barreling over.

“'M sorry. ya shouldn' have ta take care o' me like this.”

"I already told you, I don't mind it sweetheart."

He flushed at the pet name as he straightened up. Those goddamn pants Rick gave him were already too tight, but it was even more so now.

"Do you have your keys?"

"Hmm?"

"Your house keys bub. Do you have them? The door is locked," You asked him in as clear a voice as you could. He fumbled through his pockets as you waited patiently for him to produce them. He checked his last pocket and felt something jingle. Pulling them out, he placed them in your hand and watched you search the key ring for the correct one.

When you slotted the key into the door, you felt Daryl wrapping his arms around your waist from the back. You froze as he buried his head into the hair that fell against your neck. You heard him take in a large breath, like he was trying to smell something.

"Ya smell so good."

A heat grew in between your legs and you couldn't move. It was wrong to be turned on by Daryl when he wasn't in the right state of mind, but the way his body felt pressed against yours had your cheeks warm and your eyelids feeling heavy. You almost collapsed when his embrace got tighter.

"D-Daryl, honey, you have to get off so I can open the door."

"Mmm." He reluctantly let go of you and you shakily turned the key and opened the door.

"Can you make it from here?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind, that answered my question." You chuckled and stepped inside.

"ya have such a nice smile. Makes me happy ta see it."

"Thank you. I'm almost upset you won't remember any of this. come on big guy, let's get you settled and in bed."

By pure luck, you somehow managed to conquer the stairs to the basement with Daryl in tow. You opened the door to his room and ushered him inside to sit him on the bed.

"Hold on, I'll be right back. Change your clothes while I'm gone." The thought of him naked briefly made its way across your mind, but you shook it off and focused on getting him something to drink and eat. You entered the kitchen and made a mental note of things you would need. First off, water. You grabbed a bottle from the fridge and set it down on the counter. Next you needed something easy on the stomach. Looking in the pantry, you spotted a pack of saltine crackers. Perfect! That's what you used to eat when you had the flu. If it could work for sick ass you, it could work for drunk ass Daryl. You figured he would need something for the inevitable headache. The medicine cabinet was just over the refrigerator, you remembered from when Abraham needed antacid and the only person who had some was Daryl. It was a struggle to reach, but ultimately a small hurdle to clear. You mentally patted yourself on the back for a successful and bountiful expedition, and headed back down the stairs. You knocked on the door and heard an affirmative grunt from the other side.

"Alright, I have some water for you, some food too. and ibuprofen for the headache. Don't drink too much, you're gonna be thirsty in the morning."

Looking over at him, you noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt. Now, you knew Daryl had been through a lot during the end of the world, and most of it left scars. But some of the scars littering his torso looked old, really old. You deduced that these were most likely marks left by his father, and most of them looked like healing came rather hard. How could anyone do this to a child? Especially someone as sweet as daryl?

You realized he was looking at you, waiting for you to continue.

"I brought you some crackers too, Eat them in small amounts or you will regret it."

He stared at you as you walked towards his nightstand and placed the items there.

Months of watching you. Months of hearing your sweet voice. Months of watching your thighs peek out from your shorts, and Daryl had enough.

You were startled as you felt a rough force pulling you downwards and it took you a second to realize where you had landed. Daryl wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him, His warm lips found their way to your neck.

"D-mm." Your words were interrupted by Daryl moving his hips upward. You could feel how hard he was and it made you cry out with pleasure. He was holding on to you with pure desperation, Every inch of your body felt like it was burning up.

He moved his lips away from your neck to speak, "I need ya', please Y/N. I need ya ta take me. Y-Ya can h-have me any way ya want. I need ta feel ya." He punctuated the sentence with a thrust upwards that left your head empty and your mouth unable to function. "I-I want ya so much, sunshine. Want ya ta hold me down an-...an`." His hips bucked up wildly and He let out a grunt as his hands left trails of fire down your shoulders and arms.

"Daryl, w-we can't."

He grunted in frustration and looked up at you with big, sad eyes.

"Why? You don't want ta? With me?"

His voice wavered on the last two words and you felt terrible, but he was under the influence and you were worried he didn't really want this. You just didn't want to take advantage of him...

"You're drunk Daryl. I don't want you to regret doing this," You motioned between the two of you, "With me. You might not even remember."

"S-so ya do want ta?"

You leaned down to place your lips on his forehead.

"More than anything."

You took his hands in yours and spoke.

"I'll tell you what, If you remember this in the morning and you still want it, you come find me."

You couldn't help but frown a little as he looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes full of sadness. You brought your finger up to his forehead and ran it over his brow bone, then down his cheek and on to his bottom lip. He kissed your fingertip and you smiled.

"Tomorrow, imma come find ya."

"I'll hold you to that, love."

Daryl sighed as you wiggled out of his lap, already missing the warmth of you against him. He flopped backwards on the bed and grabbed his pillow, shoving it under his head.

You padded your way back to the front door where you had left your heels and purse, all the while thinking about what just happened a few moments ago. Daryl fucking Dixon was kissing and begging for you to take him, and you felt him... All of him. You wanted nothing more than to rip off the layers of clothes that separated the two of you to feel him even more. Tonight's events got you thinking, what if Rosita was right? What if that night in the bunker, he was thinking about you? You shouldn't get your hopes up, he was most likely just drunk and horny. You've never seen him show any sexual interest in anyone, so he was probably as pent up as could be and just relieving a little bit of the pressure. As unlikely as it was, you hoped he wanted you like you wanted him. His words were like fireworks in your mind, bright and explosive with sparks of color.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

After such a long night, your bed felt like a toasty marshmallow. Your feet were aching, your thoughts were racing, and your body was at its limit. You needed a day of rest and at least three ibuprofen, but a glass of milk and 6 hours of sleep would have to do.

Before heading to bed, you pulled out your leather bound journal and added your new pictures from that night to the pages of your choosing, along with descriptions of each. This was a new thing you started doing after the day you found the camera. You got a few of Glenn and Eugene talking about video games, one of Carl stuffing his face with cupcakes, which was definitely a keeper. Your fingers stopped when they reached the pictures you took of Daryl earlier, especially the one of him looking at you. You decided to keep them out of the book and put them in your nightstand, along with your camera, for safekeeping.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Daryl noticed was the jackhammer someone let loose in his skull. The second thing Daryl noticed was the unbearable amount of light seeping through his basement window. Seriously, who gave the sun the right to be that fucking bright? He sat up and rubbed his eyes to try and rid himself of the mount Everest sized migraine, effectively making it worse. Great, a wonderful start to the day. He figured he might as well brush his teeth to get rid of alcohol breath. He noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A bottle of water, some pills that looked suspiciously like ibuprofen and... Were those crackers? No way he would have gotten these for himself, he's never done that before, just came straight home and passed out. which means someone brought him home. Someone very considerate.

He took the ibuprofen and washed it down with some water, then ate some crackers to settle the unease in his gut. He tried to desperately remember what the hell had happened last night. He got to the party with Rick and... drank. Ah, that explained the memory loss. He remembered you, and that dress. You took a picture of him, he remembered the camera lens pointing at him, but nothing else. He felt the gel Rick had lent him still stiff in his hair, which meant he had to wash it out. No way in hell he was taking another shower, so a quick wash in the sink would work good enough. He dipped his head down and turned the water on. If he saw Rick today, He made a mental note to hit him.

He lifted his head to stare into the mirror, and his hair was back to its normal self. Perfect! time for toothpaste. He thought about you and tried to recall if he even talked with you. After all, even though he would never admit it to Rick, he DID come to that party for you. He hoped he wasn't an asshole to you, he had a habit of being like that after enough to drink. He needed to figure out what happened, and he knew that someone at that party would have answers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"yes?"

Rosita looked tired when she answered the door, eyes droopy and face turned down in a frown. Her face changed when she saw who was on her front stoop. "Well, if it isn't Romeo. Tell me, what can I do for you at 'way too early for this o' clock."

"Wha' happened a' Rick's dumb party last nigh'?"

"Straight to the point then." She motioned for Daryl to come inside, but he shook his head no.

"Jus' tell me."

"Other than you showing up looking like Al Capone? You drank a lot and Y/N... Took you home." Rosita gave him a suggestive look and if he was being honest with himself, he was shitting bricks. Did something happen with you last night? He would remember if you two... Wouldn't he? Of course he would, it was you, and you were unforgettable. His stomach was churning nonetheless though.

"Ya' didn't hear anythin' else?

"Well...''

"Jesus, jus' fuckin' tell me."

"Alright, Alright."

And she told him everything. She told him about the conversation she overheard on the porch, or at least the little portion of it she heard before she gave you two some privacy. She didn't have to say anything else though, Daryl started remembering a little. And then he remembered a lot. Then he remembered all of it. Everything.

He needed to find you.

He needed to find you NOW.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The knocking on your door grew quicker and louder with each passing second. Who the fuck woke you up and what the fuck did they want. You swore on your mother's grave that if it was Rick, you were going to beat him with your slipper.

"Y/N, are ya home?"

You cut him off mid-knock by opening the door.

"Daryl, are you okay? Is someone hurt?"

The look on your face almost broke him in two before he remembered why he was there.

"Can I come in?"

You opened the door and made a mock butler stance, bowing your head and gesturing towards inside. He walked inside and shut the door behind him rather quickly.

"Jesus, somebody is antsy-"

He got close to you, close enough that you could smell the scent of that cologne still radiating off him in waves.

"Did ya mean it? please tell me ya meant it! tell me ya want ta and we- I-. 'Ve been thinkin' 'bout this forever. dreamin'."

You looked at him in confusion, studying his hopeful features. To be fair, you had just woken up and were not firing on all cylinders. You usually needed a cup of coffee and some food in order to even see correctly. Then it hit you.

oh.

That's what he was here for.

"Yes, I meant it." You DEFINITELY meant it. You wanted him more than anything.

"Good," Was all he said before attacking your lips with his in desperation, as if you would vanish when he stopped to take a breath. His lips were surprisingly soft and warm, like a fresh meal just waiting to be devoured. Your hands threaded through his messy hair, tugging just a little. He groaned and you pulled him down so his head was level with your mouth.

"Any way I want?" You asked, mimicking his words from the previous night.

You heard his breathing stop suddenly for a moment.

"A-any way ya want."

"Follow me, beautiful."

He obeyed and trailed after you, hand in hand, up the stairs towards your room. His nerves were starting to catch up to him and he wished he was as confident as drunk ass Daryl right now. What if you didn't want to be with him and you only wanted to satisfy an urge? This time he didn't let what Merle said, or even his own overthinking, get to him though. You wanted him, you really wanted him, and nothing else in the world mattered to him right now except that. Even if you only wanted him for pleasure, he could learn to live with it. As long as he got to be close to you. He told himself that multiple times as you led him down the hall, and the truth was, it was a lie. He wanted to be with you in every sense of the word. He wanted to wrap his arms around you at night, and confide in you about his worries, and take pictures of him, and put his hair in a fucking ponytails every day so he could see the smile that lit a campfire under his heart.

You opened the door to your room and led him inside. "Everybody crashed somewhere else for the night, so don't worry about being loud. Although, you really didn't seem to care when we were in your room." You shot him a sarcastic grin but stopped when you turned to look at him. He had an embarrassed aura about him and his eyes were diverted to the left. You put your arms around the back of his neck and spoke in a low, suggestive tone, "Your little noises made me so wet, sweetheart. Couldn't stop thinking about them all night."

His cock jumped a little at your words. He was growing in his jeans, and you seemed to take notice. You turned around in a brisk stride towards your bed, and swayed your hips with each step. Daryl was quick to follow as you sat down on the edge and beckoned him.

"Undress yourself for me, sexy."

He stood in stunned shock as he tried to process what you just said. Y-you wanted him to strip for you? He'd never done that before. Well, he had never done much of anything before actually. He wasn't technically a virgin, but just barely. Despite his nerves, he was aching at the thought of being on display for you, so he slowly shucked off his vest and started working at the top button of his sleeveless flannel. No matter how hard he wanted to be sexy and keep eye contact, his brain failed him and his eyes drifted down to focus on his hands. He managed to get two buttons undone before pausing.

You knew immediately what was wrong and you stood up to take his hands in yours.

"I-"

"It's alright Daryl, I uh- I already saw last night, remember? You don't have to continue if you don't want to. You can keep your shirt on, or we can stop if that's what you want. No pressure, all you have to do is tell me. But I want you to know that you are the most breath-taking man I have ever met, and nothing can ever change that."

You rubbed his hands with your thumbs and smiled up at him, trying to tell him how much he meant to you without uttering a single word. His eyes almost welled up in tears from the onslaught of emotions you made him feel. You dropped his hands and softly grabbed his chin, waiting for his answer.

He somehow mustered up the words in his chest and spoke, "I don't want ta stop. P-please."

His little beg went straight to your core. "Then don't," You said as you sat down and leaned back on your forearms.

With each button that came undone, more of his toned chest was exposed to the chilled air in your room. He looked up to see your expression as he reached the last button, your expression looked... hungry. No one had ever stared at him like that before. He weirdly liked it. He watched your eyes rake over his torso as he shrugged out of his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He was so hot right now, so completely turned on while he stood in front of you, as vulnerable as could be. 'Slow down ya dumbass...'f she wants a show 'en giver 'er a show,' He thought to himself as he reached for his belt. He got the buckle free and pushed his hips forward ever so slightly as he slowly pulled the belt out in one tug. He felt stupid for the attempt until he saw you rub your legs together the slightest bit in arousal. He pulled his jeans down over his hips and ass, making his erection slightly more visible to you, and he saw you lick your bottom lip and pull it between your teeth. That meant you liked what you saw, right?

Sensing his question in the air, you spoke, "You are doing so good Daryl, you look amazing for me. Such a god boy."

Your words spurred a sudden confidence and arousal through him. He turned his head to he side, shutting his eyes tightly as he hooked both his thumbs into the elastic of his boxers. He hissed as he dragged the boxers down his legs, making sure his cock was pushed down until the elastic caught on the rim of his sensitive head. He stayed there for a second, making sure you got a full view of his heaving chest and veiny shaft.

"Daryl. stop."

Fuck! Fuck! you didn't like it. You thought this was stupid and he was trying too hard. You decided you didn't want to do this with him-

"Can I take a picture of you? Like this?"

Y-you wanted a picture of him? Like this? T-to keep? God, his cock was throbbing at that thought and he couldn't form words right now, so he just weakly nodded his head.

"Don't move. you look perfect just like this." The praise was making his head weak and his skin glossy with sweat.

You reached into your nightstand and pulled out the camera which was, thankfully, pre-loaded with quite a bit of film. He watched you lift the camera to your eye and speak, "Look at that, so beautiful." You could see the effect your words were having on him. "Look at that sexy chest, and that thick shaft. I bet you are going to feel amazing buried inside me Daryl." He whined a bit and moved his head to the side, most likely to hide his embarrassed flush.

*click*

"Look at me, sweet boy."

He obeyed.

*click*

"F-fuck. Y-ya love takin' pictures, don't ya?" You could hear how horny he was by his speech, and it was really starting to get you going.

"How can I resist when you look so damn tempting. I'm gonna stare at these when I miss you and get myself off to he thought of your hands on me Daryl."

"Ahhhh," He moaned as he lowered the boxers enough to let his hard cock spring upwards and bounce a bit. He just needed relief, just a little relief. He was big, bigger than average, and you knew it.

"I want it in my mouth baby, only for a second, will you let me?" He nodded furiously and already walked towards where you sat on the bed.

" 'Ve never had s-someone- not with their-"

"I'll make it feel good for you sweetheart, I promise. Just enjoy the way it feels." You said as you brought a hand to his pink tip and lightly ran it over his slit.

"G- ahh." He started whimpering lightly.

"I've barely touched you yet angel, and you're already singing for me. Are you sure you can handle more?"

He nodded in response and you closed your hand around his length and started slowly stroking. His hips were shaking a little, this poor man was so pent up it wasn't even funny. You then leaned your head down a bit and opened your mouth to drop his tip on your tongue, and his knees started to wobble when you took him into your mouth fully. Your throat was like heaven around him, hot and wet and tight, so tight. You kept eye contact with him as you worked at his cock, smiling a little when you saw his head throw back in pleasure. Your tongue traced every vein on his girthy meat until you were satisfied you had memorized and mapped out every single one, and by the time you were done, Daryl was panting for air in between moans.

"Now, what was it you told me you wanted me to do? Hold you down and..?"

The sound of his dirty words leaving your lips was the most erotic thing he had ever heard.

"Come on, big guy, use your words."

"H-hold me down an- an f-fuck me 'ntill I can' T-take it." His words were failing him and he felt stupid for not being able to say a single dumb little sentence. He wanted nothing more than to be underneath you while you used him for your pleasure, as long as he got to touch you.

"Lay down then honey,” you said, pulling his arm towards you.

He still couldn’t believe what was happening, even though it was unfolding before his eyes. All the months spent telling himself hell would freeze over before you considered him an option, and here he was, laying on your bed waiting for you to have your way with him. He watched in awe as you started removing your shirt.

“Do you want to help?” You asked him and he nodded in response. “Words baby.”

“Y-yes.”

He went to put his hands on your stomach where your shirt ended, but stopped before he could touch you.

“Are you okay Daryl?”

The genuine concern in your voice toyed with his heart strings in the worst way possible, and he was reminded of how much he actually adored you. You were so caring, understanding, and thoughtful. How was he going to tell you he didn’t know what to do? How was he going to tell you he was nervous to touch you and mess up? Luckily, you spoke up.

"You're overthinking Daryl, I can practically hear the racing thoughts. tell me what's going on in there." You lift your pointer finger and tap at his forehead.

Here goes nothing.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Daryl shakily spoke,

" 'v Jus' never done this before really with anyone and I-I jus' don' want ta mess this up because I r-remember tha' time at the prison when y-you and Rick were in the garden... t-talking 'bout your high-school days an' all the guys ya've... and..." His eyes lower from yours, and his voice softens to a whisper, "Ya' just have so much more e-experience 'an me when it comes to ta'... this."

Oh, that's what he's worried about?

You open your mouth slightly to begin your reassurance, to let him know it didn't matter to you and you want him no matter what, but he hurriedly started up again.

"I jus' want to make ya' feel good Y/N, I-I think about it all the time. when 'm alone a-at night, touching myself ta' the thought of ya'. the thought of bein' b-buried inside of ya'... I d-don't deserve ya'"

The fire that has been lit by Daryl is now burning with reckless abandon, only stroked by his breathless, heartfelt confession.

"Daryl, look at me."

His face doesn't move, still pointing towards the left of the room somewhere, obviously embarrassed.

"Look. at. me." You grab his chin softly, resting your thumb under his lip, and tilt his head towards you. When his eyes meet yours, your breath stops. You have never seen a man look more lost and full of need in your life, and it breaks your heart to see him like this.

"Daryl Dixon, there is not another man that has, is, or ever will be on this planet that I will want more than I want you." You lean down to his ear and lower your voice, "There is no man I would rather have buried inside me, experienced or not."

He moans lightly, and you feel his cock twitch under you.

"T-tell me what ta' do Y/N. T-tell what ta' do ta' make ya' F-feel good an' I'll do it. Please. I'd do anything ta' please ya'."

"Fuck, Daryl, I can't handle it when you beg like that."

"D-do ya' like it when I beg?" He looks uncertain, and you reassure him with a soft kiss on his nose. The sweet and seemingly innocent gesture makes his face warm.

"Yes, very much. Take off my shirt for me."

He obeys, hands shaking, but only slightly. His gaze burns trails of heat up and down your abdomen as he reaches out a thumb and places it over your naval, rubbing at the skin softly. He looks up at you, assumedly for permission, which you hastily grant with a controlled nod. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Daryl's hands trail up your stomach and towards your back, moving ever closer to your bra clasps.

His fingers work at the little hooks for a few moments before he turns a whole new shade of red and drops his hands to your lower back in defeat.

"Need help?" You ask quizzically.

"Y-yes... please. 'm not sure how ta' yet."

You giggle a little bit but immediately stop when you hear him groan in frustration. Oh no, you hadn't meant to make him upset. He wasn't used to a little playfulness in between the sheets. You pull the clasps of your bra and slide it down your shoulders ever so slightly, you want to leave him the pleasure of removing the garment himself. You grab his hands and pull each of them up to the bra straps hung low on your shoulders. As he pulled the bra free from your chest with a muted gasp, his eyes widened in awe. You both stayed there a moment as he studied every hill and valley on your chest. His eyes met yours in a desperate yet silent plea.

"You can touch me Daryl, go on pretty boy."

The nickname makes him involuntarily move his hips in a wave of unexpected pleasure. You take note of this and decide to stow that information away for later. Led bravely by your words, he reached his palm up and cupped it over your right breast, testing the weight of it in his large, warm palm.

"Shit, 's so...soft," he grunted, experimentally pinching your stiff nipple in between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation shot electric currents through your nerve endings and earned him a short but sharp inhale of breath from your lips. His eyes widened in horror as his hands recoiled from your skin. "S-Shit Y/N, Fuck! 'm sorry, did I hurt ya'? I told ya' I weren't no good a' this-"

Sensing the panic in his voice you cut him off without letting him finish his ramblings. "NO! No! Daryl that felt great. do it again, please. Your hands feel amazing on me." You waste no time in pulling his hands back to your chest and using his fingers to pinch your nipple again. All reluctance vanished from his features when he heard you moan in pleasure and press your still very clothed core against his very naked cock.

"Fuck Daryl. Good job, Good boy."

His cock twitches once again and he knows you felt it for sure this time. He turned his head and buried the side of his face into the pillow beneath him.

"Oh you like that, don't you? Do you like being my good boy Daryl?"

No response. He just closes his eyes tightly.

"Talk to me, sweet thing. I like it when you're vocal, It's hot."

Upon hearing you liked it, he spoke up.

"Y-Yeah. I do like it. I like being-... I like being your good boy Y/N."

You don't think his face can get any redder and the blush is now appearing over his shoulders and chest, as if his system is so overloaded it doesn't know what exactly to do.

"Don't move, keep your face right there, angel."

When the bed shifts he becomes a little suspicious but doesn't dare move after you told him to stay. He wants to be good for you. He wants to be your good boy. Daryl doesn't have to guess what you are doing for long, as you return and he notices the outline of the camera in your grasp. Fuck, you want more pictures of him.

Why does that thought turn him on so much every time?

He lifts his hands to the side of his head, gently tugging at the pillow... posing for you. He'd pose any way you wanted him to just to make you happy. He'd let you take a million photos if that's what it took.

"Somebody's eager. Do you like being my model angel? You like having yourself on display all desperate and horny for me?"

"Yes. L-Love being under ya Y/N. Love b-being yours ta look at. Never thought ya'd W-want ta-... see me like this...T-Take all the pictures ya want. P-please. Never stop. Please never S-stop."

*click*

You wiggle your hips a bit against his erection and his mouth opens as his back arches off the bed. He whines as his chest lifts towards the sky.

*click*

"So pretty. you look so good in these pictures Daryl. I may just have to put one in my wallet to carry around."

You still liked to carry your wallet around from before the world went to shit. It makes you feel normal, like it's just another work day where you forget your keys and spill coffee in your lap. You could think of no better place for some of these photos than in your back pocket, tucked away in between the leather folds...

"Ya'd really do tha?" He looks surprised.

"Oh, absolutely. Now, what do you say about getting these sweatpants off of me?"

He offered no verbal response, just the hasty movement of his once nimble fingers, now clumsy as he fiddles with the knot on the drawstring of your pants. You internally laugh a little. You had witnessed Daryl's dexterous fingers build hundreds of arrows and carve a multitude of sticks. and yet here he was, fumbling with a simple knot that, quite frankly, wasn't very tight.

It made you beam with pride that you could reduce him to this.

"What was it like, your first time?" You inquired incredulously. You were filled with curiosity as you remembered his flustered statement from earlier.

After finally loosening the knot from your pants, and resting his hands on your hips, he answered, "was alright I guess." His expression became sheepish and you knew he was being stingy with details on purpose.

"You don't have to talk about it, But I'm not not going to judge you."

He contemplated for a split second.

'welp, here goes'

"Must'a been 'bout sixteen 'n Merle, He t-took me ta some druggie's house. Druggie's sister was a' least five years older 'n me. She did some... Work on the side. Merle thought it'd be good for me, "It'll make ya a man," 's what he said. S-she-"

He paused for a second, looking up to you for what you assumed was reassurance. You had never seen him look so vulnerable. You placed your hand on his chest, just under his left collar bone. He breathed a bit and continued.

"She took me ta one of the spare rooms an' I told her I'd never done anythin' like tha' before. She told me it wouldn' be an issue and we continued... I- uh, I didn' even finish. She never breathed a word ta Merle and 'm thankful for it."

He looked uncomfortable, and you felt terrible for him. You were the first person to admit that your first time wasn't the best, when you impulsively slept with your lab partner in sophomore year and faked an orgasm to get out of there, but this was definitely worse.

"And you never tried again?"

"N-nah... never wanted ta... 'till now," He replied with a wavering tone.

At least you've had some good experiences. He hasn't had any, and that thought just made you want to give him some.

"So you've never cum inside someone before?"

He weakly shook his head.

"Well then, we'll have to fix that then, won't we pretty boy? Now, I know for a fact you can cum..." You leaned down to his ear and whispered, "especially on pillows." You felt him stiffen below you.

"Fuck! Y-ya saw tha'?"

"I saw it and heard it, sweet thing, made me so horny. I just had to touch myself that night." You punctuate your sentence with a brisk roll of your hips that Daryl mewled at. "What were you thinking about?"

"Y-you."

Your suspicions were confirmed, and it gave you a rush of confidence.

"What were you thinking about me?" You wanted to hear him stumble over his words. you wanted to hear his shameful, dirty thoughts formulate on his tongue.

"Jesus fucking s-shit y/n. I was thinking about you and how ya sound 'n s-smell. I- fuck I love tha way ya smell c-couldn't help myself from..."

Your ears perked up, "from?

He tried to look away from you, but you wouldn't let him. Raising an eyebrow, you offer him a silent challenge to defy you.

His mind was racing now, afraid you might be disgusted with his confession. He needed to learn how to keep his big fat mouth shut. He just couldn't help himself though, he wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you anything you wanted to know about him. He would do anything for you.

He would do anything for you...

He loved you.

In the next few microseconds, Daryl moved that word around in his head over and over again. It felt so right. Like the word had been on the tip of his tongue for a long time, just waiting to be spoken.

He figured now wasn't the best time to tell you though. Instead, he quieted his self deprecating thoughts and opened his now red, plush lips to answer you. He wouldn't let Merle's voice fill his head when he had your sweet one to do it instead.

A sudden wave of confidence rolled over him in ripples.

"Your shirt. Tha' green flannel tha' hugs yer chest like it was made for ya. had it pressed up against m-my face so I could smell ya all around me when I finished. Imagined if ya thought of me when ya t-touched yerself too. Wondered if maybe ya... used tha' picture ya took of me for... other things."

The smile on your face could be considered sinister from an outside perspective. "You have no fucking IDEA how hot that is Daryl. No idea at all. Jesus, Fuck, that just made me so wet. I think about you all the time when I pleasure myself, does that make you happy? Does it turn you on that I did look at that picture of you when I had three fingers stuffed inside myself to mimic two of yours?" You punctuated that sentence with a cock of your eyebrow.

Your voice almost sounded mocking.

It made your words even more erotic to him.

That was the single most arousing thing he had ever heard with his own ears. He didn't know if it was because of the current sexual context, or if it was just because they came from you.

He decided it was a combination of both, leaning more towards the latter.

You were overwhelming him and he loved every single second of it. All he smelled was you. All he saw was you. All he heard was your voice and your breathing. Everything was you. Just you. You. You. You. He needed to have you with every fiber of his being. He needed to be surrounded by you even more.

"Fuck me Y/N please. please please pleasepleaseplease. Can't- Can't stand not being inside ya anymore." He whined out the whole thing and it was almost incomprehensible.

"Whatever my good boy wants."

And with that, you put your hands on his and guided them back to the elastic at your waistline. Something about his hands in yours felt absolutely perfect, like they were made for it. That idea mixed with the feeling of his rough fingers brought a familiar swell in your chest that you often felt when you were in Daryl's presence. However, this time it was much stronger and much more warming. You wondered if it was because of the sexual contact or if it was just because of him.

You decided it was a combination of both, leaning more towards the latter.

You lifted your hips for his for a moment so Daryl could remove your sweatpants from the upper part of your waistline more easily. You pulled them the rest of the way down and removed them completely, along with your red silk panties.

Daryl's brain short circuited when your bare ass and pussy sat down just above his throbbing cock. He could feel your wetness leaking onto his stomach and the thought of tasting it crossed his mind. 'Later' he said to himself. He'd pleasure you with his mouth later if you would let him. And even though he had never eaten a girl out before, he would damn sure make up for it with enthusiasm to do so.

You looked at the soft panties in your hand and then back to Daryl, who had his eyes fixated on where your sex met his skin. He was so deep in thought he didn't even notice what you were doing right now. You could practically read his mind at this point, so you called out to him and held out your soaked panties towards his face.

"Go ahead baby. I know you want to."

He wasted no time in bringing the garment to his nose and giving a big, unashamed whiff... Then brought them to his tongue and licked a long strip of the crotch while keeping eye contact. The look on his face was like a starved man being fed a feast for four. His eyes darkened and he let out a moan of pure satisfaction before tossing them to join the other discarded clothes in the room.

You reached over to the drawer in your nightstand and pulled out a condom that you guessed was his size. Taking the wrapper between your teeth, you ripped the foil in half and pulled the condom out.

A memory from highschool flashed behind your eyes and you got a wicked idea. You made an "O" shape with your lips and suctioned the condom on them. You lowered your head to his cock and started slowly rolling the condom down the head and over the shaft, using your tongue as assistance.

You guessed by the little throb that pulsed inside your mouth that he liked it.

"Fuckin' Fuck!"

You giggled, "So eloquent."

"S-Shut up."

A Little amused sigh was shared between both of you.

This moment was so perfect, and it was about to get even better.

"Are you ready?" You asked genuinely, even though you knew the answer. You just wanted to make sure.

"Jesus Fuckin' Christ yes Y/N. F-fuck me already."

That definitely sounded like consent to you.

You gripped his shaft lightly as you positioned your hips over his in a kneeling stance, the head of his cock just barely beneath your entrance. Without warning, you started sinking him into your warm, wet heat.

Two things happened at that moment. You were overcome with pleasure and nearly collapsed all the way on top of him due to your wobbling knees, and Daryl let out a moan that could only be described as pure fucking bliss. If you were feeling pleasure, he must have been feeling heaven given the sheer volume and force the noise from his lips possessed. You didn't know if Daryl's neighbors could hear him right now, and quite frankly? You didn't give a single fuck. You wanted everyone in this whole godforsaken community to hear how good Daryl was feeling. How good you made him feel. You wanted that asshole Rick and Rosita to know that they got their wish and you were both enjoying every second of it. This spurred you even more, and despite your knees protest, you sunk down on him even slower to prolong the moment. Your eyes rolled back and you whimpered deeply as his meaty dick hit bottom and stretched you out sinfully. As soon as his cock was fully sheathed inside you, His moans turned to whines.

As his body fought for control over itself, he shivered and his hands became restless. At that moment he decided, somewhere deep down in his subconscious, that he was going to spend every second he had buried inside your wet, tight cunt. He was never going to waste another second without the feeling of you around him, whether it be your arms or your sweet pussy. The rest of his days were going to be spent with you. Of course, he didn't voice any of these thoughts. His mouth was too busy telling you how good you made him feel, even if it wasn't with words. He managed to open his eyes only to meet your piercing gaze, full of what appeared to be admiration. And if he wasn't buried inside of you, he could probably cry at your sincerity. He realized you actually cared. He realized you wanted him to enjoy himself. His whole life, no one had ever looked at him like that before you, like he was something to care for. After a moment, Daryl realized you were also searching his face for any signs of discomfort, and his heart melted at the sentiment. He gave you a slight nod and a soft, somewhat awkward smile.

A smile looked foreign on his face, given that he always seemed to be annoyed at one thing or the other. His frown was well known and well joked about between you and the other members of the group, especially Carol. You have very rarely seen even a ghost of a smirk flash across his face. While it was strange to see the happy expression on the mostly angry man, it was not unwelcome. A smile suited him, and you were determined to see it more often.

Agonizingly slowly, you lifted your hips and dropped them back down, the feeling it left resembled fire on your trembling walls. Daryl was laying back with a blissed-out look on his face like a man high on the most exquisite drug money could buy. That's what you felt like to him, a drug, Intoxicating to the point of suffocation, and he could overdose on you at any second. You altered his senses in the best ways possible until he couldn't form a single cohesive thought. Every movement of your insides that was awarded to him sent a jolt of electricity and pleasure up his spine, and he knew his right hand could never compare to this. With every passing second he spent buried inside you, he knew exactly how much you had ruined him.

Nothing could ever make him want it any other way.

You had never felt like this before with anyone.

No man had ever made you feel as empowered as Daryl was right now. Sex with most guys you knew just consisted of them trying to take what they needed from you, and then making up some lame excuse to leave. It always felt like a task for you, leaving you unsatisfied. Daryl was different in every way possible, he gave you everything. At this moment, he bared his entire soul to you, every vulnerability and insecurity on display, a sign of his complete trust. Even though he was a bit out of it, he still ran his hand up and down your back and chest, delicately pinching and caressing your breasts with fervor.

This was more than just sex to you, and it was more than just sex to him. The rhythm, the matching movements, the energy that was radiating in the air, all of it formed itself into the most delicately perfect dance, a waltz of two lovers. You couldn't imagine a better dance partner. Daryl was a masterpiece to you, an awe-striking painting that was made with billions of perfect brush strokes and a quality of paint that only true master artists possessed. He deserved to be admired. He deserved to be recognized. You wanted to paint murals of him and write songs about him, you wanted to capture his every expression in photos and fill the empty spaces of your existence with them. You wanted to be full of him in every way you could be because the laws of imperfection didn't apply to him in your eyes.

You mustered the strength in your arms to pick the camera back up from where it was resting, and bring it to your eye. You wanted to remember this moment forever, and you were going to snap as many photos as it would take for that to happen.

*click*

Daryl whimpered and bucked his hips.

Before you could realize what was happening, Daryl had a surge of coherence and used it to flip you over, keeping up the pace without a hiccup. You were surprised at how fluidly he managed the motion like he had done it a thousand times, even though you know he hadn't. You would be proud if you could muster up a thought that wasn't laced with lust and wanting, however, the rhythm of his snapping hips wouldn't allow that at the moment.

You opened your eyes to take in the sight above you, the camera still in hand. This gorgeous man's woodland brown hair was hanging from his head and swaying in the air with every thrust, and his eyes were strained shut with concentration. There was just enough space between you for you to bring the camera in front of you comfortably and snap a quick picture. His strong shoulders and forearms were flexing deliciously as he held himself above you, and the camera flash made the sweat on them sheen like he was glowing.

That one was going to look great later when you could focus.

You dropped the camera to your side and reached out your hands and placed them on his face, rubbing them over his brow bone and cupping his cheeks in your fingers. His facial tension dissipated the moment your skin came into contact with his, and he opened his eyes to greet the image below him.

"It's okay to go slow, my love. There's no rush. Just feel it. Just feel me." You stated in a husky, almost whispered voice.

He exhaled in response, and the sheer length of the breath served as a reminder of how much smaller than him you actually were.

"Wan' ya to feel good." He informed you, sounding mildly timid, yet still as confident as ever. He smirked at you and punctuated his sentence with a rather cocky roll of his hips that momentarily left you breathless.

"I feel fucking fantastic," you sighed, "I feel like you are wrapped around every piece of Me Daryl. I can feel you in my nerve endings, I can sense you in my lungs. Please don't stop. You make me feel like I am dying in the best way possible." You meant every word and so much more.

Daryl's expression changed from confident to loving in an instant, and he experimentally rolled his hips slower and softer, studying the movement of your face. He spent so long with his eyes shut from the pleasure that he barely got to see what you looked like when he buried himself inside you, and he could kick himself for wasting that time. You looked like a dream with your eyes fixed on his, that pure sexual expression painted on your features. Your hair spread itself out over your charcoal gray pillows and sheets like you were floating in a pool of water. He took notice of how your breasts were warm and sweet like softened butter, the small amount of light in the room cast shadows that contoured your figure perfectly. You looked like a goddess below him, chest heaving and long, feminine lashes blinking. Somewhere along the way, the comforter had been discarded from the bed to the floor, and the sheets had become rustled. They shaped themselves around the outline of you like a renaissance painting of a noble queen, the kind that would have men bowing at her feet.

It was his turn to take a picture.

Daryl leaned back on the balls of his feet and grabbed your thighs so he could pull your hips to meet his once again, letting his touch linger for a moment or two before grabbing that camera that you loved so damn much and charging the flash.

"Stay still." You hear him grumble out under his breath.

You gave him your best sexy pout and felt his cock jump a little inside you.

"F-Fuck," You heard him grunt out once again, "Fuck, you are so- such a-." He pulled the photo from the camera and studied it, shuddering out a breath as you clenched around him slightly. "B-Beautiful."

He dropped the camera down somewhere gently, and honestly, you couldn't care less about the fucking thing right now. All you wanted was to feel him moving inside you again. You didn't have to wait long, because he was back on top of you again in an instant, but this time it was different.

Daryl lowered himself onto his forearms and knees, making sure to bury his head in your neck and hair, keeping his chest connected to yours to the point where you could feel his heartbeat. He wanted to be able to smell your scent all around him when he finished, just like he did with your shirt in that bunker. He wanted to be surrounded by you as much as possible. He wanted to be totally overwhelmed by you. This new position allowed him access to places you didn't know someone could reach, and his moans and whines were bringing you ever closer to your end.

"Close." You struggled the words out, both a warning and a promise.

"Tell me. T-tell me where yer-." He was interrupted by an involuntary moan escaping from his throat, "Tell me where ta T-touch you. Want to help ya. Please I-I'll be good. Promise. Please please please," He trailed off.

He definitely knew how to get what he wanted.

You grabbed his hand and guided it slowly between your legs until the rough pads of his fingers found your clit and you cried out. He began carefully rubbing circles over that spot as he picked up the pace. This was absolutely devastating for you, the feeling of his fingers and his cock working in perfect tandem had you practically crying for him. Daryl's moans were becoming needier by the second. Every time he pressed down on your clit, you clenched around him tighter. You felt like wet velvet. Wet, hot velvet.

"P-Please cum fer me Y/N, want ta know 'M makin' ya feel good. 'M so c-close fer ya. Please let me feel ya cum 'round me." His voice was almost unrecognizable, filled with need. And it sent you over the edge.

Your legs wrapped around his lower back, and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, leaving streaks of red in their path. The wave of your orgasm came crashing down around you, clouding all of your senses and making your vision go white. All you could feel is pure pleasure, and Daryl's hair in your fists. He wasn't too far behind.

Your legs constricted around him like a snake ready to strike, but if this is what being poisoned felt like, then he would gladly die right here, like this. The only pain he had ever felt was filled with hate and malice, but as your fingernails raked down his back, the fire he felt made him dizzy. The pleasurable pain spurred him on even more. Your scent surrounded him as he desperately pressed open-mouthed kisses wherever he could reach on your neck and jaw before he felt your sweet pussy pulse around him. The final straw was the feeling of your fingers pulling at his hair, and the coil inside his stomach snapped. He came in thick, hot spurts that forced a small scream from his throat as he humped into you needily. He melded completely into you, and you were so close at that moment, that you didn't even feel like two people, you felt like one.

The scene looked like something out of a movie. The sheets were misplaced and wrinkled, and clothes littered the floor, thrown off in the throes of passion. Countless polaroid pictures were spread out around the bed, surrounding you and Daryl, the camera long forgotten on the floor. You both came down from your high breathing heavily, slick skin now comfortable and chilled in contrast to how feverish you both were a moment ago.

And you just lay there, reveling in each other, in the feeling of one another's presence. Your skin vibrated with the feeling of your afterglow, and you both silently agreed to spend a few moments relaxing.

....

You felt him slowly gain control of his limbs and leave some soft kisses behind your ear. If anyone told you that Daryl fucking Dixon would be so soft and emotional after sex, you would have called them crazy. But right now, as he starts to trail the kisses up your jaw and cheek, making his way to your lips, you would believe anything. When his lips finally do meet yours, it's the sweetest kiss you think you could ever receive. He's so gentle and you can tell that he poured everything he was feeling into it, that way you could feel it too.

The silence was broken by him pulling out of you slowly, and you shuddered at just how empty you felt without him. You both groaned when he left you, and he noticed how you shivered.

"Are ya cold?." He asked, and he looked genuinely concerned.

The sentiment warmed your heart.

"I-," You went to speak but he cut you off.

"Cuz I can get ya a blanket, er I could turn up the heat. Here." With that, he lifted himself off the bed in search of the comforter, covering you with it when he found it.

"Thank you, Daryl, bu-."

"Or I can get ya some food if yer hungry, sumthin ta drink?"

"No no, I'm good baby. I really appreciate it, I do. but jus' want you to come lay with me. please? Hold me? If you want to, that is." You slurred out the words due to exhaustion

"Y-yeah alrigh'."

He went to take off the condom, probably to tie it off and dispose of it, but you couldn't have that. You've been dying to know what he tasted like for way too long.

"No, stop. Let me." You demanded as you sat up, the comforter falling to your lap. "Come here, please."

He complied, walking to the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You reached out and grabbed the tip of the rubber, working it off of his softened shaft slowly.

"Ya better hurry up, or imma get hard again real soon.''

The condom came off and you held it by the top as you opened your mouth, making sure to keep heavy eye contact with Daryl. His cum flowed out of the condom in thick, creamy globs, landing on your tongue in a sizable puddle.

"Fuuucck girl, yer gonna fuckin' kill me," Daryl spoke in his delicious southern drawl.

You fully expected him to stand there and watch you until the condom was empty, but instead, he grabbed your face and pressed your warm lips to his. This utters a noise of surprise from you until you feel his tongue enter your mouth and mingle with yours.

Oh, he wanted to taste himself with you.

That was bringing some familiar feelings bubbling up in your stomach.

You returned the kiss with equal amounts of passion and an eager tongue. The kiss left you both breathless as Daryl pulled away and you drug him down to bed with you. You both laughed lightly when he landed on top of you with an 'oof'. He rolled over on his back and looked at you, waiting for you to cuddle up next to him like you promised you would.

Eventually, you got the hint and made your way under his arm, laying your head on his chest.

Even though Daryl hadn't really cuddled before, it felt natural with you, like breathing. His mind wandered a bit, wondering if you enjoyed your time with him. 'Of course she did, you retard, she was screaming underneath you a few minutes ago.' At least his internal voice was actually helpful for once. He couldn't help but wonder though... Thankfully, he didn't have to.

"I can see your mind moving, sweetheart. Ask what you want to ask."

He was really thankful you could read his mind sometimes.

"Did- Did ya... Enjoy urself?" His reluctance was obvious.

He sounded small when he spoke. You didn't like it.

"Daryl Dixon, I want you to listen to me very closely. That was the best sex I have ever had. You are the best man I have ever been with, and I would definitely like to do it again. With you. In my bed. Or maybe yours. Possibly your new recliner. Your workbench. Maybe against the bike..."

"Alright, Alright. I get it," He let out a low chuckle, his mind put at ease.

The room was silent for a little while as you just enjoyed the silence that was so rare in a world filled with the shambling dead.

...

"So the bike, huh?" Daryl asked, laced with humor.

You looked up and met his gaze, smiling deviously.

"If you like that, you would love some of my other ideas."

His interest peaked. "hmm? Tell me all 'bout 'em."

You both chuckled.

"Well, I've seen you flipping that combat knife around..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtain-covered window, it danced across the hardwood floor smoothly. Right away you noticed three things. First, Daryl isn't next to you, which made you feel a bit sad at first. Second, You smelled something absolutely delicious, and you wanted to track down the source of the scent. You noticed the third thing as you were searching for your clothes, Daryl's shirt draped across the nightstand by the bed, which meant he was probably still there. You put it on, along with your discarded sweats from the previous night, and made your way downstairs. The smell got stronger and stronger until you entered the kitchen, the source of the odor. And there he was, standing in front of the stove in a pair of pants and no shirt. Suddenly, the smell wasn't the only thing that was delicious.

Daryl was dishing out pancakes when you walked in, a plate of bacon, and a cup of black coffee sitting next to him. He noticed you immediately and smiled softly. You walked up behind him while he was pouring more coffee from the pot into a second mug, and wrapped your arms around his torso. You noticed the scratches you left on him from the night before, and leaned your cheek on his back, feeling a sense of pride.

"What's all this?" You feigned ignorance.

"'S breakfast. for us." He looked very proud of himself.

If he got any sweeter, you don't think you could handle it.

"This looks delicious, Daryl. You did an amazing job," And you meant it, "You Look pretty damn delicious too."

He chuckled and you could feel his shoulders shake with the action.

"Tell ya what, finish yer greens, and ya can have dessert.'' The last word was a little heavier than the rest of the sentence, and you understood the implications. Who knew Daryl Dixon was so playful?

Having you in such close proximity was driving him wild all over again. He had never been touched so much by someone in such a short amount of time, and feeling your warm skin on his in a domestic environment was making him hotter by the second. He peeked over his shoulder to look at you and when your eyes made contact, he felt that electric spark all over again. You were a sweet little thing, pressing your lips softly against his back and touching his chest like this. He could feel the love radiating between you two, and it was laced with a barely tamed lust.

Were you wearing his shirt?

He might just have to fulfill the promise he made to himself the night before, and get a taste of you for breakfast instead.

How would he even initiate that though? He didn't really know what to do exactly because he was still new to this, but he did know that he wanted his tongue buried inside your moist heat until he couldn't feel it anymore. Do you even like that sort of thing? Would you want that from him? No. No, he wasn't going to let himself overthink this. You liked eager, right? Well, then he was going to be eager for you. He decided that what he lacked in experience when it came to this, he was going to make up for in his desire to make you feel good.

"Daryl, are you ready to eat?"

"Hell yes, I am." He replied to you under his breath.

"What was that bab- Ooh!" The wind was taken from your lungs in surprise as he swiftly turned around, picked you up by your thighs, and set you down on a nearby countertop. The shock factor soon wore off and faded into excited giggles.

"The food is going to get cold," You whined as his palm covered your sex, catching you off guard again.

His mouth came to your ear and you shivered, feeling his breath tickle the skin there.

"Food feels warm ta me." He really hoped you would find this sexy and not stupid. Just in case, he made sure to deepen the tone of his voice just a bit.

You found it very sexy.

He pulled away and made direct eye contact.

Was he really serious about this? Did he actually want to put his mouth on you, or was he playing around? You wondered that for a moment, his eyes bore into you like a needle in some fabric.

And then he slowly sank to his knees...

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Still keeping that intense eye contact, Daryl moved forward on his knees and pulled you to the edge of the counter by your thighs, then started working on the drawstring of your sweatpants.

You had to admit, your brain was short-circuiting a little. Was this really about to happen, or were you dreaming that Daryl Dixon was pulling your pants down from the ankles? The latter was very likely, considering you had dreamed about scenarios like this before, In this kitchen, With him. And he was about to make that dream come true, whether he knew it or not.

He made quick work of discarding your sweats, and you were thankful you had decided to forgo wearing panties today. The shaky nervousness from the previous night had obviously dissipated, and you were definitely glad for it. His gaze had moved from your face down to your cunt, greedily taking in the sight of you, almost as if he was memorizing everything perfectly. You were practically soaked already, and he felt a wave of pride wash over him.

At least he knew you liked this so far.

You grabbed a handful of his hair, forcing his eyes up to look at yours. The feeling of your fingers yanking the roots of his hair was something he could get used to.

"Please Y/N, please let me eat ya out. Ya like when I beg right? 'll be good. Promise. Please? Been dreamin' 'bout how ya taste fer a long time. P-Please use me, use my face, pretty girl."

His admission made you gush. You gripped his hair tighter.

Your tone dropped lower, and your eyes became lustful.

"Open your mouth," You commanded, and he obeyed.

You pushed your hips out, presenting yourself like a five-course meal just waiting to be devoured, and pulled his head forward until his now outstretched tongue rested against your folds. You moaned softly, eyes rolling in the back of your head. His mouth was devilish, lapping up your juices like they were the best thing he had ever tasted. To him, they were.

Daryl was feeling beyond amazing, you had the most exquisite flavor he could imagine, nothing could compare. He sped up his tongue, licking from the bottom of your sweetness, all the way to the top, then flattening over your clit. Your noises got louder, and your fingers pulled him closer by his hair. You chased your pleasure by jutting out your hips, practically grinding yourself on his face. He lifted your legs over his shoulders to give you a better angle on him, to make himself more accessible to use. Every sound you uttered made him swell with even more pride, letting him know he was touching you like you needed. He pushed his tongue inside of you, wiggling it around slowly in experimentation. He noticed you gripped his hair more when he angled it up, so that's what he did. Your thighs sandwiched his head in their pillowy warmth, and it was his turn to groan, although it was muffled by the flesh of your sex. He knew what Merle meant now about eating pussy, This was fucking fantastic.

You fed off of each other's noises and touches, each becoming more eager every time. You were getting close, and Daryl could feel it in how hard your thighs clenched around his head with every movement of his tongue. It was now or never.

Daryl brought his fingers to your entrance and moved his tongue to your clit, slipping two of them inside and curling them upwards slightly like he did before. It was like he had pressed a button when he stroked that spot inside of you, and it made you see stars. Your orgasm hit you so powerfully that you almost went limp when the first wave hit. You spasmed around Daryl's fingers like you had never cum before, your vision went white momentarily and you felt something else coming from inside of you. His fingers continued their motions inside of you, coaxing you through your release. You felt yourself getting wetter, Impossibly so.

Oh shit. Did you just-?

Looking down after you gained control confirmed what you suspected.

"Fuckfuck, Y/N. Wha' the fuck was tha'?" Daryl looked mesmerized, staring down at his now-soaked arm and chest, glistening in the kitchen light.

You were still a little light-headed, so your response was staggered.

"That was-... It's called squirting. It- It happens when a woman gets really aroused." You were still a little out of breath, so all you could do was lightly run your fingers through Daryl's hair, massaging his scalp with your nails. "It means you did a very good job." You closed your eyes for a second and spoke again, "Sorry for not warning you."

...

Daryl's lack of response mildly concerned you until you looked down and he was staring at his hand in what looked like awe. His hand moved closer to his mouth and he was... tasting it? He was sucking on his fingers like his life depended on it, taking as much of your juices in as he could.

"Mmm, fuck. Ya taste better 'n ice cream," He spoke, his words muffled by his fingers.

You responded with an amused chuckle, pulling him back up to stand in between your legs. Deciding it was your turn to taste yourself in his mouth, you pulled him in for a soft kiss, tongues mingling affectionately.

"We should probably clean up a little and eat," You suggested, remembering the food that was probably ice cold by now.

Daryl offered a satisfied grunt and kissed you quickly before wandering off to look for a towel.

You couldn't be happier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The food was, in fact, ice cold by the time you got around to it. However, considering the fact that your legs wobbled a bit when you walked, you couldn't care less about how warm breakfast was. You would do it all over again.

You both talked about what the plans were for this week. Runs, weapons training, and the box of motorcycle parts Daryl found a few days ago in an old auto body shop. Somewhere during the conversation, you realized just how domestic this was, like you two were a married couple spending the morning together.

You liked it.

You loved it.

You loved him.

You both made it about halfway through your meal before you were ever so rudely interrupted by a slight knock at the front door. With an annoyed sigh, you padded your way there across the hardwood floor and unlocked the knob while twisting it. When you opened the door, Rick was standing on the porch, hands resting by his sides.

Rick took notice of your choice of clothing, specifically Daryl's shirt. He decided to play dumb anyway. He knew damn well that Daryl went to see you after he talked to Rosita because Rosita told him so.

"Can I help you with something, Rick?" You sounded mildly annoyed, which made him smile a bit.

"Have you seen Daryl 'round? 've been lookin' for 'im. Wonderin' if he maybe went out without tellin' someone again."

Before you could answer, you felt the presence of warm hands on your sides and a chin resting on your head.

"Ya found me," Daryl sounded annoyed too, "Ya need sum?"

You melted into Daryl's touch a little and cocked a questioning eyebrow at Rick. You could tell that Daryl's PDA put him off track for a second or two before that shitty grin of his returned even stronger. God, you wanted to punch him.

"I was jus' lookin' for you so we could go over the plans for the supply run in a few days," His words were filled with smarm, "But it can wait for later."

Daryl spoke before you had the chance to.

"Good, See ya later," Daryl closed the door before Rick could spout more bullshit, pulling you closer to him and sniffing your hair.

Who was this affectionate man and what had he done with the hardass you knew?

You both could hear Rick laughing as he walked off the porch, and Daryl groaned into your neck.

"'M gonna beat 'is ass later. can' believe he talked me inta goin' ta tha' damn party."

You laughed a little. "As much as I hate to say it, you should probably be thanking him. I mean. some good definitely came of it."

"Oh my god, you're right," He spoke sarcastically, fake shock playing in the undertones of his voice.

You stood there for a minute, laughing in his arms and reveling in the attention he was giving you. You had never seen him like this, so happy and loving, He seemed like a completely different person right now. Somewhere deep down, you knew this side of him would be reserved for only you, and it made the moment all the more special to you.

In truth, Daryl had never felt like this before. Of course, he felt love towards the group, but it was a familial kind of love, This was different somehow. He wanted to be your partner, your best friend, and your backup in dangerous situations. He wanted to patch up your cuts, share a beer with you, and protect you when you needed it. But most of all, he wanted to give you everything you could ever want from him. Whether that was a life of fighting and hunting or a white picket fence with a few kids, It didn't matter to him as long as it was with you.

Daryl picked you up by your legs, still giggling, and carried you deeper into the house to spend as much time as he could with you before you both had to face the life that waited for you both outside.

Neither you nor Daryl would have ever guessed that the dead would rise up and bring the apocalypse,

Neither of you ever thought you would find a family from a group along the way,

And neither of you ever guessed you would find love in a world where it was lacking.

And honestly?

Neither of you would want it any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That was a genius idea, I have to admit," Rick spoke with playful admiration.

"I told you it would work, that girl has a serious thing for formal wear... and for Daryl," Rosita stated with a hint of smarm in her voice.

Rosita, tired of her best friend's shit, came to Rick a few weeks ago and they devised a plan. Rick's job was to throw a bullshit party for the newcomers and get Daryl to shower and wear normal clothes, Which Rosita knew would be easy once he mentioned you, then all they had to do was push you two towards each other all night. The outcome of that evening may not have been what they expected, but regardless, the result was still the same. At least now Rick didn't have to witness Daryl pine for you from afar, and Rosita didn't have to deal with you talking about him all the time and never doing anything. And what better entertainment was there than matchmaking during the end of the world.

Rick, who had placed a bet that Rosita's plan wouldn't work, pulled out her winnings from his jacket pocket, placing the chocolate bar in her hand, which she received with a smug smile. He really thought it would take Daryl a bit longer to lock this down, but this is what he gets for doubting his brother, and Rosita's matchmaking skills.

"As promised," He uttered in his southern drawl. "A bet well won."

"Thank youuuu Grimes," Rosita remarked sarcastically while tearing open the wrapper.

A few short seconds of comfortable silence passed before Rick spoke up with a genuine smile instead of his usual grin.

"It's nice to see them happy, they deserve it."

Rosita finished chewing her mouthful and swallowed to reply.

"Yeah. they do.... and so do you."

"Oh no, I know where this is going." If Rosita brought up Michonne one more time, he swore to God.

"Soooooo.... Michonne?"

"Goodbye Rosita." Rick had enough of this.

"Aww, c'mon! hear me out! So, she has been complaining about the lack of toothpaste, and I was thinking..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N

sorry this took so long to write, School sucks, and yadda yadda. To be honest, I just lost the motivation to write for a long time. I have shit grammar and my spelling is a hit or miss. English is IN FACT my first language, although you wouldn't be able to tell that from my writing. No amount of Grammarly can help me at this point, Fuck formatting anyway. No beta, we die like the show's ratings after season 7. Please enjoy and be sure to point out any mistakes in the comments so I can fix them.

4K notes · View notes

celtic-crossbow · 6 months

Text

Daryl: Rules’re made ta be broken.

Rick: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.

Y/N: Uh, piñatas.

Glenn: Glow sticks.

Maggie: Karate boards.

Carol: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.

Daryl: Rules.

Rick: …

Rick: Why do I even bother?

#daryl dixon #reader insert #rick grimes #glenn rhee #maggie rhee #carol peletier #the walking dead incorrect quotes #daryl dixon incorrect quote #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x you

528 notes · View notes

forgetminot · 1 year

Text

Incorrect Quotes - The Walking Dead Edition.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Y/n: "So, Daryl is no longer allowed to take the trash out at night."

Rick: "What, Why?"

Y/n: "Because, I've caught him trying to train raccoons to fight five times in a row."

Daryl: *arms crossed and pouting* "You'll be thanking me when the third raccoon battalion saves your ass from walkers."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Rick: *walks into the room*

Y/n: "He's covered in blood again. Why is it he's always covered in blood?"

Daryl: "Well, it looks like it’s his own blood this time."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Y/n: "Not gonna lie, I'm kind of afraid of Rick..."

Daryl: As you should be.

Y/n: "No, for real, he's kind of-"

Daryl: "As. You. Should. Be."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Daryl: *whispering* "So when are we gonna tell them?"

Rick: *whispering* "Just give them a minute."

Y/n: *Pulling harshly on a door that clearly says push.*

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

1K notes · View notes

grimesgirll · 2 months

Text

you look forward to your car rides with rick.

you love your group too but sometimes a long car ride helps you unwind and recharge when your social battery is low and you just need to stare out the window at some grassy hills. besides, most days rick let you choose the soundtrack for your drive so you could DJ.

the only cds you'd had when you met up with the group were your signed cds that you couldn't part with: your parents' favorite foreigner album and taylor swift's sophomore album. after playing those albums front to back and hearing "double vision" one too many times enough to nearly ruin the song for you - and rick too probably - you set out to find some new tunes. you and daryl came back from a record store with a crate of old cds - it was a shame that you couldn't preserve the records but you had yet to run into a working record player that was worth your time. nonetheless, you found fleetwood mac albums, soft rock compilations, and music to mellow your trips.

you were itching to see him today. you’d been preoccupied mass producing buckwheat cereal and it was never a good time with him. you lavished the opportunity to spend time alone with the perpetually preoccupied rick grimes.

rick is waiting for you when you climb into the car. hickory curls frame his face which is sunburnt from all the time spent outside finishing up the harvest.

“hey,” you greet, pulling the car shut and shifting into your seat.

“hey there.” the sheriff farmer replies gruffly, hands already tensed and gripping the steering wheel.

you don’t need to ask what’s wrong because you already know: carl.

you love the boy but he wasn’t playing the part of the pacifist farm boy rick wanted him to. you don’t blame either of them. rick was right to rein carl in after he fired on that boy from woodbury as he surrendered.

that shook you up a bit too, but you remembered that carl was young and after weeks of planting, it won’t hurt to let the boy kill a walker or two on fence duty. there’s at least no reason for rick to give him shit about it.

rick’s so pent up though. it could be not just carl but the young infant going through the four month sleep regression.

settling judith for the night seemed to be a never ending battle, every battle a losing battle. you’d managed to take the little girl off of rick’s hands so he could sleep but she rarely went down for you either anymore. the baby that was once happy to fall asleep in your arms before bed was now fighting bedtime with everything she had.

your leader was saddled with stress. you can see it in the white of his knuckles against the steering wheel and how he doesn’t say anything before starting the car and pulling out of the prison, the gate being pulled behind your car by glenn and daryl.

almost forgetting to put in the new cd in your lap, your eyes are glued to the steering wheel. navigating whatever you have with rick is treacherous when just the sight of his taut hands has your breath picking up.

the two of you had no opportunity to get away lately. it’s not like you’re going to pester rick or jump him in the fields.

you’d already heard a, “later, sweetheart” earlier this week and it made you want to curl up into a ball.

waving the cd so rick can see, you ask if he likes the eagles. he shrugs. not much of a response.

“i’m gonna pop this in,” you inform him and lean over slightly to eject the cd currently residing in the media console - one of daryl’s buffalo springfield cds - to slide in an eagles’ greatest hits album.

he doesn’t pay much attention, just keeps his attention on the road and his knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel.

the sound of a guitar transitions you into the first song, which you think is aptly named. “take it easy” is exactly what rick should do but the song doesn’t seem to lighten his mood.

you two sit in silence. this isn’t unusual for you guys. sometimes you go quiet on parts of the drive.

rick breaks the silence.

“you like older stuff?”

i like older, rugged, handsome ex-cops with hands that can-

“i like all kinds of stuff.”

the older man laughs. “just wouldn’t have pegged you for an eagles girl.”

“it’s dad rock. don’t you like it?” you ask, catching his blue eyed gaze.

he slouches his shoulders. “they’re not bad. i would’ve liked if you put on that fleetwood mac cd a bit more.”

you grin. “i’ll remember to put their greatest hits cd on next.”

what you should be doing is reaching back to grab the cd booklet from the backseat but you’re fixated on rick. he’s driving, hyper focused on being aware of his surroundings again so he doesn’t notice the path your eyes take from his hands on the wheel to his pants. he doesn’t see your eyes cloud with thoughts of you two.

“pull over.”

“what?” rick questions, shooting you a skeptical look. “why?”

“i really have to go number one.”

he scoffs. “that’s why you wanna stop?” he shakes his head at you. you’re always asking him to stop on the side of the road for you to pee or find a dilapidated bathroom to go in. “next time, you gotta go before we leave.”

you nod, working overtime to conceal the early signs of victory on your lips. rick heeds your request and pulls into a rest stop parking lot, telling you to make it quick.

“be right back!” you chirp and use the bushes behind a gazebo to maintain your angle - and actually empty your bladder.

then you’re hopping back into the car and pressing the passenger side button to lock all of the doors. your hand stops rick’s when he goes to start the car, using the other to unbuckle his seatbelt. you’re in his lap by the time you’ve gotten his seat reclined by pushing down the lever.

the dark haired man is chiding your name. “what are you doin’?”

“helping you relax.”

“we gotta get on with our run.”

“i think you having fun is a bit more important.” you argue as you undo his belt. “why don’t you just relax?” you smile at him while you turn up the music slightly.

the sheriff rasps your name. “we have to stay vigilant.”

you send him a look that his him straining in his baby blue boxers. “rick, the doors are locked. we’ll hear a walker if they come up and we can drive away. just trust me and relax.”

it’s hard to argue when you’re tugging down his waistband, hands finding him and fondling him until the only sounds coming out of his mouth are pants.

opening up nice and wide, you slip him into your mouth. you smile when your tongue on the side of his length is met with a breathy moan.

one of rick’s hands are on the back of the center console and the other is pressed against the driver’s side door. between you wandering up and down his shaft with your tongue, he feels cornered. even more so when you take the opportunity to guide his hands to your hair.

it takes a few minutes but rick is no longer preoccupied with scanning the perimeter or heavy under the worry you could always sense under his skin, distracted by the curve of your ass. just leaning with his head back, basking in the soft rock playing and the woman so keen on relieving the pressure that weighed down on his reddened shoulders.

“such a good girl,” he’s gasping.

you move faster. suction your lips a little tighter. you haven’t been fooling around with rick for long but one thing is true without a doubt for him; he’s long and thick. you still haven’t mastered what must be some kind of witchcraft to fit all of him down your throat without gagging, but rick doesn’t care. as long as his dick in your mouth, he’s not complaining. especially not when you look up at him with his cock halfway down your throat.

success bubbles in your core and even with rick stuffed down your throat, you’re beaming. you’ve managed to get him to sit back and take a moment to enjoy himself - to enjoy you.

but you realize that your work is far from done when your favorite farmer cums down your throat, relishing the moment despite his still rock solid cock. he pulls your mouth off of him after you swallow, seemingly relishing the sight of you, lips in a pout in his lap.

“it’s your turn,” rick growls before fervidly dragging you to the backseat to pin your hips down and return the favor.

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #twd imagine #twd smut #rick grimes smut #the walking dead #reader insert #still getting the hang of writing smut #not beta read #established relationship #ricky dicky doo da grimes #rick x reader #grimesgirll #blowy #prison era #mild taylor swift reference

204 notes · View notes

miss-madness67 · 12 days

Text

FOR FANFICTION,

*please reblog for a bigger audience*

#fanfiction #supernatural #reader insert #harry potter #fanfic #fic #ao3 #tumblr #quotev #fanfiction.net #wattpad #fandom #stranger things #the hunger games #twilight #the walking dead #the boys

241 notes · View notes

witchthewriter · 1 year

Photo

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You had all realised how much you liked spending time together, even if it was doing your duties

・The banter was top-notch; constantly teasing each other, laughing and ultimately making life a little brighter

・On the long watches with Rosita, you learned a lot about her. How she didn’t like certain foods, especially canned, bland food (which was practically all you guys ate). Her favourite animals and favourite colour.

・Your original impression was that Rosita was a stone-cold bitch. And ... that was somewhat true, but you now knew her as a loveable stone-cold bitch.

・Michonne had so much responsibility on her shoulders that she actively sought you two out for some relief. You were always able to brighten her day.

・Rosita had a lot of insight for Michonne, and it helped her decision making

・You didn’t think anything of the relationship - the three of you saw it as a friendship

・But it wasn’t until Eugene asked if the three of you were romantically involved, that you started to see Rosita and Michonne differently

・Neither woman is super cuddly, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any affection in your relationship. Michonne likes her face to be held in her hands, a thumb gently rubbing her cheek. Rosita loves to be hugged from behind, she rests her head back against your shoulder.

・Rosita gets the most jealous. She doesn’t like when someone looks at either you or Michonne for too long. Whether that’s in a romantic way - or to size you up. She’ll be right by your side, ready to jump in and kick that person’s ass

・Michonne is very organised, she knows where important things are; hidden weapons, extra clothes, snacks, keys etc. While Rosita can find things in her messy chaos

・Wearing each other’s clothes or accessories:

“Hey, is that my- oh, okay. It looks much better on you.”

・You were the first one to say “I love you,” Michonne was the second and Rosita was last

・Everyone sees you three as this power trio. Not to be f*cked with - no one talks about you guys behind your backs. That’s how intimidating you three are.

・Although you three are daunting, women and children feel incredibly safe with any of you. And this isn’t a coincidence or by accident

・All three of you understand the troubles and dangers that women and girls experience. So you all make sure that respect and safety are priorities. If anyone makes them uncomfortable, you guys come down like a hammer. Your community is a safe haven, and that means safe for every single person.

・You guys go on feminine hygiene runs - pads, tampons etc. One time you actually hit the jackpot and found a bunch of period underwear, diva cups, baby wipes, and nappies (both baby and adult).

・In addition, on your runs you try and find birth control - condoms, the pill, and other medication (anti-depressants, anti-anxiety etc)

・Rosita likes when you play with her hair; massaging her scalp, twirling her hair around your fingers, braiding and plaiting.

・Michonne only ever lets you and Rosita see her cry

・On runs you try and find jewellery for Rosita and Michonne. Because those stores were forgotten about - they didn’t have anything important for an apocalypse, you were able to find pieces that relate to the women:

You see them as gold rather than silver. However, Michonne would be white gold.

Rosita is garnet, ruby, and diamond

While Michonne is sapphire, jade and emerald

・They both showed you how to use their weapons and vice versa

・During fights, the three of you usually fight back to back

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

The Train by James Newton Howard

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

・Soldier (Rosita) x Poet (You) x King (Michonne)

・Look At Us Wrong And We’ll Kill You x3

・Sun (Rosita) x Moon (Michonne) x Eclipse (You)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆:

Romance During An Apocolypse

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 🔞minors dni!

・Rosita loves being dominated. She’s a dominant person in her day-to-day life, so when it comes to sexual desires, she wants to be told what to do

・Michonne is a switch, but on certain nights she’s the best dominatrix

・You’re a switch, both happy to be dominated or to dominate

・There aren’t a lot of places to get lingerie or sex toys, so you all have to improvise and be creative. So this one time, Rosita found a big red shirt and cut it very short, and at the hemline, she ripped it so her cleavage was on display.

・It drove both you and Michonne crazy, because she wasn’t wearing anything else but that

・Michonne likes to tie you both up and tease you relentlessly. Slowly touching your body parts

・You like to have both of them on their knees, begging for you

212 notes · View notes

thefreakydeaky · 5 months

Text

After the Thrill is Gone

Part Eleven

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Negan Smith x Reader

Modern AU

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

Warnings: Dark Fic ,Physical acts of agression, Stalking, Stalker behavior, Smuttyness, Adult Language...

The day of Wyatt's first baseball game came and you didn't think you could stand another incident with Negan.

"I'm not feeling well. I think I'm just gonna stay here." You told Daryl as he got dressed.

"Don't do this. Don't make this about you." He said without turning to look at you.

You sniffed.

"I'm not making it about me. I'm telling you, I don't feel well-"

"This is about Coach Jackass being on your shit list. Don't tell me it isn't cause I know it is."

You gasped.

"That-that's not true-"

"It is and I'm not gonna let you do this to Wyatt. He's excited about this. As his mother you need to be there and cheer 'im on. Don't let somethin' petty get in the way of being there for your son."

You tried to blink back the tears in your eyes.

"Daryl, I-"

He said your name like he was scolding a child. "We're not leaving until your butt is in that car."

When you didn't move from the corner of the bed he threw open your side of the closet and rifled through your clothes.

You startled when he threw a dove grey loose fitting jumpsuit and a white tshirt at you.

"Get dressed." Daryl didn't often raise his voice. It frightened you to hear him speak to you that way.

Reluctantly you stood and began to dress.

••••••••••••

At the field you sat on the metal bleachers and unpacked Millie's things, her hat, her cup of juice, and a few toys. Hunter sat beside Daryl playing something on his switch. You entertained yourself with looking after Millie. You put her hat on her head. She looked adorable in the pink bucket hat. You could only bear to look up at what was going on, on the field every now and then as Negan was standing right in your line of sight. You clapped and cheered whenever Daryl and some of the other parents did, but you did not really know what was going on. When Wyatt came up to bat, you put your attention on him. You watched as he changed his stance and got ready to swing. The pitcher threw the ball and it flew fast, but Wyatt hit it. He hit it so hard it went sailing into the outfield.

You stood and watched the ball land as the other team scrambled to get to it.

Daryl whistled.

"Run, Wyatt!" You cheered.

He took off booking it past first base and making it to second before the ball made it back to the first baseman.

You clapped and sat back down to watch the next kid go up to bat. Millie began to whine, so, you picked her up to try to quiet her. You patted her back, bouncing her a little bit. Then you watched as your son stole third while another kid was running for first. You cheered.

Millie did not like your cheering one bit. She began to cry. You got off the bleachers, holding her tighter, so you wouldn't drop her. When you reached the ground, you decided what was best for Millie was a walk. You turned away from the game and started off down the sidewalk, Millie began crying louder as the people cheered again. You turned to watch Wyatt as he stepped on home base, making a home run. You smiled at him, but didn't cheer for Millie's sake. Then you continued to follow the side walk behind the bleachers and along the side of the field. You patted the baby's back and softly hummed a lullaby as you walked. You felt eyes on your back. A shiver went through you. You tried to ignore the unease in your belly and focus on your little one, but the feeling did not ebb.

When the game was finished you watched the kids line up to shake hands with the other team. You could see the glee on Wyatt's team mates faces. You shook your head. The hand shake was definitely not doing what it was intended to do.

The kids lined up and one by one were allowed to leave with their parents. Wyatt stood at the end of the line. You went to get him, Millie asleep in your arms.

Negan smiled wide at your approach.

"Did you see him out there? The boy's a natural." He boasted.

You nodded.

"Yes, he did real good." You commented.

"Some of the kids are meeting for pizza at a place on main street to celebrate. Between all of us adults, we can get all these kids fed. What do ya say?"

"Can we go? Please Mom? Please?" Wyatt begged.

"Well, we have to ask your dad-"

"Okay!" Wyatt took off toward your husband, who was talking to one of the other parents.

You winced.

"You're gonna have to learn to put on a better face than that if you want to get through this. Lots of people will be watching." Negan huffed.

"I don't want to be around you. Why should I hide that?"

"You don't want people questioning why that is, do ya?"

You frowned.

He touched Millie's cheek.

"Like it or not, I have got you over a barrel. What I say goes or else..."

"That doesn't mean I have to pretend we're friends. If anything being someone who doesn't like your fake ass nice guy persona and cocky attitude is the perfect cover." You remarked.

"Hey, I will have you know that plenty of people find me down right charming."

"Oh, I'm sure that's only because they can't see through it. They can't see the cynical, egotistical, narcissist that lies beneath it all." You said it casually. You even smiled a little so as not to draw attention.

"In case you forgot, you liked me just fine for a long time."

"I didn't know the real you, but," You forced your tone to sound cordial. "I sure know now."

He laughed, in that polite way people did in casual conversation.

"You don't know me half as well as you think you do, but don't you worry, I am gonna take care of that."

You shook your head, ready to rip him a new one.

Negan's eyes went to something behind you and you turned to see Daryl walk up.

"Good game, Coach. Good game."

They shook hands.

You took it as an out and turned away.

"Your wife says you'll be joining us for pizza. So glad to hear it." Negan said with a huge grin on his face.

You swallowed the series of curse words wanting to flow from you. So, this was to be your future? Well, Fuck.

#daryl dixon x reader #negan smith x reader #daryl x reader #negan x reader #the walking dead reader insert

9 notes · View notes

somedaylazysomeday · 1 year

Text

Arm Candy - Part Two

Negan x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

After many, many requests, here is the follow-up to Arm Candy. These two chapters are easily the dirtiest thing I've ever written. Please mind the warnings and curate your consumption.

Rating: Explicit, lemon, etc. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 7,000

Warnings: blunt conversations about sexual needs and interests, anal play, anal fingering, anal beads, mentioned anal plug, semi-public sexual acts, orgasm denial, slight restraint play, constant mentions of sex toys, implied sex, Dom vibes.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

It hadn’t been long after your session with Negan in the boardroom that you started to receive certain gifts.

First, a small bottle of lube.

Next came a strip of dots you eventually recognized as anal beads.

Finally, a modestly sized plug.

Every one of the gifts made you groan and cover your face, worried it would explode with the sudden rush of heat. Most of that heat was from embarrassment… but not all of it. You couldn’t honestly say that you hadn’t thought about taking that last step with Negan, no more than you could deny that you had thought about his fingers in your ass constantly.

If you were being really honest, you had done more than think about it. That memory had rapidly become your favorite fantasy, the thing you summoned to get yourself off when you were lying alone in your bed at night.

But that honesty was saved for yourself. Negan had asked whether you had gotten his gifts, but he hadn’t asked anything more than that, though you were sure he was dying to ask whether you had used them. You had experimented with both and enjoyed them, but you also spent more time thinking about it than was probably healthy.

The most likely reason Negan hadn’t asked for more details was that you didn’t see him very often anymore. He was around, but he was dealing with a lot lately. There was wife drama, then a breach in one of the neighboring areas that had let in far too many zombies to ignore, then an attempted coup… One thing after another had kept him away until you started to wonder if, maybe, this was the natural end to your quasi-relationship with the head Savior and you should just let things fizzle out between you.

You did an abrupt and perfect 180° turn on the first Savior mission that Negan joined in on after everything had settled. He had stationed himself in your vehicle as you went to gather some medicine from a nearby factory.

You were in the truck being driven by Simon, who had insisted that Negan get the passenger seat. That was difficult to argue, since Negan was the leader and should therefore get the better seat. That left you crammed in the truck’s minuscule back seat, bouncing and jolting with every bump in the rough pavement of the road. Simon and Negan were discussing the mission - the details of which you had already memorized - and you allowed your thoughts to drift to calculations and guesses about how much longer the pavement on the roads would last.

After Simon had finished explaining the plan to Negan, the cab of the truck fell utterly, awkwardly silent. It hadn’t taken much of the journey to fill Negan in; this was to be a short mission. The sun was still rising and you would be back at the Sanctuary before it started to set. The factory was nearby and was a known source of medicine and other necessary, desirable products. The Sanctuary simply didn’t have space to store everything, so the Saviors had set traps and extra protection around the place and went back occasionally to stock up.

“I know I haven’t been around much,” Negan said, breaking the silence. “But things are finally quiet. I’m back now.”

The statement could have been directed at Simon - and the man apparently believed it was, since he nodded and said a quick, “Good to have you back, boss,” - but you couldn’t fight the idea that Negan had meant it as an assurance for you, maybe even an apology. You hummed an agreement with Simon’s answer and watched in the side view mirror as some of the lines of tension melted from Negan’s face.

The truck fell silent once more, but this time, it was far more pleasant.

When you arrived at the factory, Negan got out of the truck and opened your door for you. You murmured your thanks and he aimed a megawatt smile in your direction, calling for Simon at the same time.

“Yeah, boss?” Simon asked, circling the truck to face you and Negan.

“I’m gonna have you run the interior section of the mission,” Negan explained. “I wanna check the traps, make sure everything is still working… and that we haven’t caught anything. I’m gonna take her with me, too.”

Simon nodded. “Sounds good to me. It’s been a while since we’ve checked everything out here. I’ve got my walkie. Channel six if you need anything.”

Negan touched his own radio to his temple. “Back at’cha.”

And then he walked away, letting you trail behind him as he navigated to the first trap.

It was empty, but some of the spikes at the bottom of the pit had slumped to the side, probably during the most recent heavy rain. Negan hopped down into the pit to fix it while you watched the surrounding forest, standing with your gun at the ready in case you received any unwelcome visitors.

It was bad practice as a Savior, but your thoughts wandered as you kept watch. Negan had seemed apologetic in the truck, but he hadn’t spoken a word directly to you. Maybe you had misinterpreted things and he wanted to break off this almost-relationship you had going. Maybe the wife drama had convinced him to cut down on the number of romantic partners he had. Maybe he had found someone new to court. There were too many possibilities to count, but you did your best as you idly watched the treeline for any signs of movement.

When Negan hopped back out of the pit - giving a grunt of effort that left things low in your gut tightening - you found him watching you with his intense dark eyes. “Is this okay with you? It’s been a while. Figured we could talk.”

“It’s perfect,” you told him with a smile, trying not to seem too relieved. After all, wanting to ‘talk’ was often slang for ‘break up’, but you were just grateful he was speaking to you. That went a fair distance in shutting down your doubts. “What did you want to talk about? Or just talk in general?”

“We’ll get to the big stuff later,” Negan decided. “For now, tell me how you’re doing. Feels like it’s been a year since we got to catch up.”

And so you chatted back and forth while you checked the traps around the factory. When minor repairs were necessary, you or Negan would make them and move along, but there were no signs of intruders - dead or otherwise.

The conversation between the two of you was awkward at first, but you soon warmed up to each other. By the time you were walking to the last trap, it felt as if no time had passed since you were just as close. Negan hadn’t mentioned anything about not seeing each other anymore… but he also hadn’t gotten to the ‘big stuff’ he had referenced.

When you finished checking the last trap and found yourselves within sight of the truck once more, you took a deep breath and said, “You mentioned there were things you wanted to talk about?”

Negan nodded slowly, lifting his radio to his lips. “Negan to Simon. We’re finished and at the truck. ETA?”

“Simon speaking,” Simon’s voice reported, crackling through the radio speakers. “We should be out in fifteen.”

“Make it twenty,” Negan told him.

“Roger.”

Negan gestured to a spot ahead that seemed to have started life as some kind of picnic area. The ground was made of woodchips - though plenty of weeds and sprouts of grass were peeking through by then - and there were a few wooden table and bench combinations that still looked fairly sturdy.

After leading you to one of those tables, Negan sat down on the attached bench and patted the wooden surface beside him in a silent invitation for you to join him. You did so, though things between you and Negan were starting to grow uncomfortable once more.

The moment you sat down, Negan had already started speaking. “Are we good, doll?”

You lifted your eyebrows automatically. “As far as I know, yeah. You’ve been busy lately… and I’ve been keeping busy, too.”

The second half of your statement came out weak and almost indignant, like you were trying to convince him you didn’t sit around and wait for him to come back when he was gone.

“I know,” he assured you. “Simon’s told me about everything you’ve been up to.”

You nodded. It was Simon’s job to keep Negan informed about everything Savior-related. You would have assumed that included you, if you’d ever stopped to consider it before. “Good. Are- Are you still good with me?”

“Yes,” Negan told you instantly, without even a moment’s pause. “In fact, being with you is what I thought about the most while I was off taking care of things.”

“You thought about me? Or my ass?” you asked. You had meant it as a joke, a teasing reference to your shared history, but it dropped like a stone into the suddenly charged silence. For a horrifying moment, you wondered if you had overplayed your hand and accidentally revealed your own intense interest in the very thing you had accused him of.

Negan, shockingly, let his gaze travel over the treeline surrounding both of you rather than hold eye contact with you. He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. You could hear the rasp of his stubble against his calloused fingers and it made your skin tingle with the need to feel it yourself. “I’ll be honest with ya, doll: both. But I know I was gone a while and you might not be ready to keep exploring the, uh… dark side of the moon, ya know? So if you want to take a break from all of that stuff-”

“No,” you refused, quickly and vehemently enough that Negan turned to look at you in shock. Your lips twisted into an uncomfortable smile. “No, I don’t want to take a break. Not from any of it.”

Negan’s brow steadily relaxed, and it roughly matched the rate of the smile spreading over his face. “That so, sweetheart? Does that mean you’ve gotten those presents I left ya?”

“You know I did,” you reminded him.

“That’s right, I did know that,” he admitted, his grin broad and dirty. “Been dreamin’ about you every second I had to spare… and some I didn’t. Missed ya, doll.”

Initiating intimacy of any kind - even a simple kiss - with Negan was risky. If he was in a good mood, he would respond in kind, maybe even enthusiastically. But if his temper had been piqued or he was feeling particularly dominant, he could treat that as an insult worthy of punishment.

Perhaps he was in a good mood that day, or he really had missed you as much as he claimed to have, because Negan accepted your kiss eagerly. In moments, he had deepened it until you were fully making out, only a scant breath away from groping like teenagers.

But before it got to that point, he pulled away from you with a reluctant smile. “Sorry, beautiful. We have a few more things to figure out before we get back to it.”

You waited for him to continue, but he only stared into the middle distance with a perturbed frown on his face. “Shit, doll, I can’t remember what any of those things are. You knocked ‘em straight outta my head. Let’s skip to my favorite one, then: When do ya wanna get started again?”

For a beat, you pretended to consider that, but you had been considering it since he had flagged Simon down and hopped into the truck with you. Your answer was ready and - while tormenting Negan was always good fun - the longer you made him wait, the longer you were making yourself wait.

And you were so tired of waiting.

You shrugged, giving him a self-deprecating smile. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Ya sure, sweetheart?” Negan asked. The solemn tone of his voice warned you that this was his consent ask. He was interested, but he was going to give you a final chance to change your mind before things got started.

“I’m sure.”

Negan’s face lit so quickly with joy that you almost flinched. “In that case… I brought some extra stuff with me today. It’s starting to get a little heavy. D’ya mind helping me carry something back to the Sanctuary?”

As he spoke, Negan was twisting the strap over his shoulder to bring something forward from its position at his back. It was a small bag, which he began rooting through. Earlier, you had noticed that he was carrying a backpack, but you hadn’t registered how strange it really was until that moment. “Yeah, why are you carrying a backpack? I’ve never seen you carry anything other than Lucille.”

“Actually, this makes a great holster for her,” Negan informed you, gesturing to the wooden handle sticking out through a partially zipped section of the pack. “But really, I needed a good way to carry this thing for you… Didn’t want anyone asking questions, ya know?”

As finished his half-explanation, Negan pulled his hand out of the pack. Dangling from his fingers was a small set of anal beads.

There were three of them, ranging from the smallest at the tip and the biggest at the base, where there was a small gap before it flared out into a base and a wide loop for easy removal. The whole thing was made of buttery silicone in a pretty royal blue color.

Hesitantly, you plucked the toy from Negan’s fingers. He had left you something similar back at the Sanctuary, though a little smaller, and you had enjoyed exploring how you felt about them. You liked to think you had given them a fair chance, but you hadn’t gotten a lot from the experience. In the end, you had chalked it up to being a toy best enjoyed with a partner and set them aside.

Now was a chance to test that theory.

Negan was watching you with patient curiosity and you realized with a start that he had no real idea how you were going to react to his invitation. With a faux-sympathetic nod, you agreed, “Those do look heavy. I would be happy to help you get them back to the Sanctuary.”

Whatever Negan had expected you to say, your easy acceptance hadn’t been it. His brows shot halfway up his forehead and he looked back into the bag. When he withdrew his hand once more, he was holding a small bottle of lube. He caught your grin and explained, “Just in case ya thought I wasn’t prepared.”

You murmured an agreement and glanced back at the factory behind you. “Do we have time to… Do we have time before Simon comes back out with the others?”

Instead of answering you directly, Negan keyed the radio. “Negan to Simon.”

“Simon.”

“Need another few minutes,” Negan said vaguely. “I’ll let you know when to join us.”

“Sure,” Simon agreed. After a moment, he asked, “Hat switch?”

“Hat switch,” Negan confirmed. “Negan out.”

You shook your head, fighting a wave of embarrassment. ‘Hat switch’ was a term the three of you had come up with to explain that you were switching between your duties as a Savior and as a prospective wife. No doubt Simon assumed you were out here getting railed by Negan… though that assumption may actually be less titillating than the truth. You just hoped it wouldn’t be awkward when he did come back out.

“We’re all good, doll,” Negan informed you, as if you hadn’t been able to hear the entire conversation. “Take off your pants and get up on the table.”

You balked, frowning at the sun-bleached and splintered wood of the picnic table. “The table? Really?”

Negan shrugged, “That or grab your ankles for me. Or we could use the bed of the truck, but there’s a better chance of being seen from the factory. I’m willing to risk it if you are-”

“The table is fine,” you interrupted hastily, face heating when Negan patted the wood and waggled his eyebrows. You followed his silent instructions and removed your pants, leaving them folded on the bench seat along with your underwear - though there was a threat of distraction when Negan saw you in the thong you were wearing and let out a low growl.

Crawling onto the worn tabletop while fully bare from the waist down was uncomfortable. You felt exposed in the extreme, a feeling that was only heightened when you glanced at the set of beads lying on the table beside your hip. You knew you would have to move again shortly afterward, but you sat down on the table rather than sit with your ass up for the world to see. The wood was rough under your ass, warmed by the sun.

“Ya still doin’ okay, sweetheart?” Negan asked, his voice a comfort to your nerves.

After taking a deep breath in an attempt to lower your heart rate, you offered him a smile. “Yeah, doing just fine.”

“Then turn over for me,” he requested. “Remind me what we’re working with.”

You ultimately opted to be on your hands and knees on the table, deciding that it gave you enough ability for movement. You wanted to feel like you were at least partially in control of this experience.

Negan groaned, a hand stroking over the curve of your ass. “I’ve missed you.”

“Again, you missed me or my ass?” you asked, feeling some of the tension dissipate as you chuckled at your own joke.

“Is it bad if I say both again?” Negan asked. You could hear the grin in his voice. He patted your ass again, his hand cupping one of your cheeks for a moment before it left again. “Need ya to open up for me and, uh… my hands are kinda full.”

You glanced at his hands, noting that the lube was in one and the beads were in the other. He did have a point, and you sighed. The table was just old, but it did look less than clean. To make this position work, you would need to press your torso and probably some of your face against the surface.

“Hang on,” Negan ordered. A moment later, he had whipped off his jacket and folded it into a makeshift pillow for you.

Gratefully, you leaned down onto it, conscious of the way the motion pushed your ass further into the air. As you pressed the side of your face into the cool leather and breathed in the familiar scent of Negan, you relaxed enough to reach back and part your cheeks for him.

A stifled groan came from behind you and you smiled again. Coolness dripped between your cheeks, startling in both temperature and suddenness, and you jolted. Negan swore. “Shit. Sorry, doll. You’re killin’ me. So fuckin’ sexy. I’m just getting you ready.”

“It’s okay, Negan,” you assured him. “I was just surprised.”

He didn’t answer you… Not with words, anyway, but the way his fingers started smoothing the lube through the crack of your ass spoke loudly enough to make up for the lack of speech.

Negan was stroking you slowly, traveling from the bottom of your tailbone to the spongy flesh of your perineum and back. Eventually, he began to zero in on the tight ring of muscle that was his ultimate focus. His touch made you relax even further. You knew these hands, knew that he wouldn’t use them to hurt you. With a press and a twist of his slick fingertip, Negan breached your ass. You groaned together at the feeling.

“Shit, doll,” Negan bit out. “You really have been playing around back here, haven’t you?”

You didn’t reply, too busy panting as his finger sank deeper and deeper inside of you until he was seated up to the knuckle. Fortunately, Negan didn’t seem to expect a reply, thrusting the finger in and out gently until you were clutching at the table so hard that your knuckles were pale.

“The beads aren’t that big,” he mused, “but I wanna see if you can…”

His finger pulled from your depths, the sliding sensation leaving your toes curling. He returned with two fingers pressed tightly together. After a moment with the twin tips pressed to your rear entrance - a moment that stretched infinitely long - he slowly impaled you on both of his long fingers.

When you could feel his knuckles braced along the inner edge of your ass cheeks, you allowed yourself a single, heartfelt, lust-filled groan.

“How are ya feelin’, sweetheart?” Negan asked. His voice was so rough that you struggled to understand him at first… or maybe you were just lost in the sensations. You must have been quiet for too long, since his voice was filled with worry instead when he repeated, “Are you doing okay?”

“Fine,” you told him, shocked at the bliss in your tone. You sounded like you were floating… felt like it, too.

He chuckled darkly, pressing his fingers a fraction deeper inside of you. Your breathing stuttered as you felt your ass stretch slightly wider around the thickest part of his fingers.

“Did ya miss this?” he asked. “I did. Missed you so fuckin’ bad… None of the others came even close to this. Thought about you every day. Sprang a hard-on every time I’d see you around the Sanctuary or pass you in the hallways. Did you see me? I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. Kinda wanted you to see, if I’m bein’ real honest. Did you think about me?”

You would have replied honestly, confirming that you had thought about him just as often as he did about you, but he had started a twisting, thrusting pattern that left your head reeling. As he asked the final question, he started to pull his fingers out of you, but paused to spread them slightly.

Your fingernails bit into the scarred wood of the table as you fought to keep back an embarrassing noise. You lost that battle when Negan’s free hand cracked over the curve of your ass. A cry of his name escaped you, echoing oddly around the clearing before Negan spoke.

“I asked if ya thought about me, doll.”

You nodded, your cheek rubbing against the leather of his jacket. “Every day. Every time I saw you and every time I didn’t. And any time I used the presents you left me.”

Negan groaned. “I want to keep this going, but I think I’m gonna explode if we don’t wrap this up. I’m gonna take my fingers out now, okay?”

After you nodded again, Negan withdrew his fingers and you trembled with the feeling of it. The next thing that touched you was far less warm and far less pliant. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you confirmed, catching your lower lip between your teeth when you felt the first bead press into you.

It had seemed so small when you were looking at it in Negan’s hand, like you would hardly be able to feel it. That wasn’t true in the slightest, and you felt your rear gape open slightly before closing around the thin silicon stalk that connected the first bead with the next.

Negan pressed the next one a little slower, letting you feel the way your entrance opened to admit the larger bead before tightly squeezing the stalk once more. You were grateful to be so well-lubricated and warmed up when the final bead pushed slowly inside of you. No, the beads were nowhere near the size of Negan’s finger - let alone two - but something about the unyielding material and the shape of them made the beads feel more weighty.

You took a breath and let it out slowly, fighting to acclimate to the unfamiliar intrusion. Abruptly, your body rebelled, trying to push the strip free. Negan’s grip on the removal loop kept that from happening, and it ended up being a futile exercise. You relaxed, accepting the strange feeling.

“Good girl,” Negan complimented lowly, stroking a hand over the curve of your ass and down the back of your thigh. “So fuckin’ sexy. Think I’m about ready to burst.”

“I know what you mean,” you agreed. The whole thing had left you ready for more. Your pussy was swollen and achy, your clit pulsing with every quickened heartbeat. You jerked when one of Negan’s fingertips grazed the bundle of nerves, a sound of desperation breaking free of your throat.

He skimmed through the furrow between your lips before pulling away with a groan of his own. With a few steps forward so you could see, he held up his glistening fingertips. “I’d say ya do know what I mean. I hate to leave you like this, but we need to start back toward the Sanctuary before the sun sets.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He had finger-fucked your ass and pushed a strip of beads inside you and now he was going to insist on leaving before getting you off? Before you could loose a truly unwise barb in his direction, your gaze traveled past him and to the sky. The sun was already at its peak and would start sinking toward the horizon soon. He was right, damn him.

“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed reluctantly, pushing yourself onto your hands once more and getting ready to swing yourself down from the tabletop.

“Hang on a second,” Negan decided, frowning at your ass before he circled back to stand behind you.

You let a small, satisfied smile spread over your face. Negan wouldn’t leave you like this, and you should have known he wouldn’t. He was a bit of a slave to his own pleasures, helpless against the need to make sure you and he were both satisfied.

And so you kept your legs spread wide as he reached between your cheeks once more. You didn’t know exactly what he had planned, but you wouldn’t say no to a quick fuck with the beads still inside of you. After all, you were certainly wet enough.

Your entire body tensed, jolting like you had been shocked when Negan grabbed the loop at the end of the beads and twisted even as he kept them fully pushed inside of you. Then he patted your ass. “Okay, you’re good.”

You were so stunned and dismayed that you turned and plopped your ass down on the table, scarcely biting back a yelp at the unfamiliar sensation of the beads pushing up inside of you. “What was that?”

“I was fixing the loop,” Negan explained. “I didn’t want it to be uncomfortable. Now it’s lined up with your asscrack. Why?”

“I thought you were going to fuck me!”

Negan blinked at you, heat slowly growing in his eyes. “Oh, doll. You know I’d love to, but I meant it: we’re short on time.”

“But I’m so close,” you reminded him, well aware that you were whining but unable to stop yourself.

“If I’m not getting off, you’re not getting off,” Negan told you with a smirk. “Better get dressed. I’m calling Simon now.”

True to his word, Negan radioed for Simon to bring everyone out as you scrambled to get your thong, pants, and boots back on before they reached you. It was a challenge, especially since you could feel the odd shifting of the beads inside of you with every move you made. It was distracting, and you found yourself pausing more than once in an attempt to chase a spontaneous orgasm.

In the end, it didn’t happen, and you stood glaring at the ground. You were achy and wet, your underwear soaked even as your ass throbbed with all of the recent activity. It grew worse when Negan clapped a hand over your ass, managing to aim it so that his palm landed directly over where the beads sat. You squeaked and turned your glare toward him instead.

Negan only laughed. “Go sit in the truck. I’ll set things up with Simon.”

If you had thought getting dressed was difficult, walking to the truck was an exercise in unexpected nerve endings. You made a variety of unfamiliar sounds as you clambered up into the backseat of the truck. By the time Negan joined you a few minutes later, you were fighting not to rock in your seat.

He swung himself into the driver’s seat, twisted the key in the ignition, and began to drive. You frowned at him and he seemed to feel it, meeting your gaze in the rearview mirror. “I told Simon to find another vehicle to get back in. Why don’t you come up here instead?”

You eyed the back of the front seat. There was no gap between the cushions, and that would leave you clambering up and over the backs of the seats. There was no use asking Negan to pull over so you could get out and use the door, either. You knew that well enough, even if just from a logical standpoint. The sun would start setting soon and you needed to get back to the Sanctuary.

“No,” you decided eventually. The backseat was cramped and uncomfortable, but the gymnastics involved in getting to the front seat simply weren’t worth it for you. “I’ll just stay back here.”

“Let me rephrase that,” Negan suggested, eyes bouncing between your face in the mirror and the road stretching out in front of the truck. “Get up here.”

“Why?” you asked, feeling petulant.

His mouth twisted into a grin. “I’m lonely.”

“Not a good enough reason.”

From your perspective in the backseat, you watched the muscles of Negan’s jaw crank tighter. You were already braced for the firm command in his voice even before you heard it. “Get your ass up here, now. I’m feeling generous, so I’ll even give you a reason besides ‘because I said so’: I need to make sure you aren’t gettin’ yourself off back there.”

You gaped at him. “I’m not going to rub one out in the back of the truck!”

“You say that now,” Negan told you, clearly fighting a grin at your crass language. “But we haven’t even hit the bad section of road yet.”

That prompted a vile curse from you. You had noted on the way to the factory that the road was rapidly falling into disrepair. It had jolted and jostled the truck for what had felt like an eternity then. It would be even less comfortable now.

With a series of inelegant movements and hissed sounds, you clambered up into the front seat and buckled yourself in. The truck was the first Savior vehicle headed back and you had been driving at a reasonably fast clip so far. Something told you Negan wouldn’t take the challenging sections slowly for you.

You were right about that. When you approached the sections of road that were in the worst shape, Negan tossed a wicked grin at you. “Hope you’re ready, doll.”

And then you hit the section. Negan had not, in fact, slowed down. If anything, he had sped up slightly and you would have been worried for the tires if you weren’t so focused on keeping yourself together. Negan hadn’t said anything about you not being allowed to come, just that you hadn’t had time for him to get you there and that he didn’t want you going for it in the truck. But if you came just from the sensation of the beads being jostled around inside of you, surely he couldn’t be upset about it?

But you fought it anyway, if for no other reason than it would be undignified.

Every bump had profoundly interesting effects on you: forcing the beads slightly deeper or leaving your muscles room to try pushing them out again in turns. The worst were when you had started to instinctively push them out but they were forced back in by the sharp collision between your ass and the seat.

By the time the road finally smoothed once more, you were a sweating, panting mess and your trembling fingers were creeping toward your core without full permission from you. One good push against anything would be enough to send you over the edge…

Negan caught your hand before you could so much as brush against the space between your legs, pinning it to your thigh as you squirmed. “Negan…”

“Other hand,” he ordered, wiggling his fingers around your wrist.

You made a noise that could have been anything from his name to a recitation of your multiplication tables, but he just kept wiggling his fingers. You watched the motion for a moment, wondering if you could come just from watching him and thinking hard about how that would feel between your legs, then realized that probably meant he had a point.

With reluctance, you moved your right hand closer, allowing him to shackle it along with your left and keep both away from anything incendiary. When you were fully locked down and the desperate need had receded to a throbbing ache in your core, you slumped back against the seat and stared blankly through the windshield.

“Are you good?” Negan asked, tossing an inscrutable look your way.

“I just got fucked by some beads,” you retorted, frustration making your voice sharp. “And now you won’t let me have even the slightest relief. I wouldn’t say I’m ‘good’.”

Negan’s eyebrows flew up and you had a split second to regret your response before they crashed down once more. He gave your wrists a warning squeeze. “There something else you wanna say to me, little girl? Or are you gonna keep being a brat? If that’s what you want, I’ll tell Simon we forgot something and go right back. So, what’s it gonna be?”

“Sorry, sir,” you apologized, your face now at least as hot as certain other parts of your body. “I won’t do it again.”

“Good,” he said firmly. “I don’t like this attitude. If it sticks around any longer, we’re gonna have a conversation about what it means to live in the Sanctuary and enjoy the privileges of being a Savior.”

You knew better than to fight him on this. When Negan’s voice took on that steely undertone, he meant business. He wasn’t dominant in any BDSM-type way, not more than it took to have a little fun, but he was the leader of the Sanctuary. As the head Savior, he expected - no, demanded - obedience.

Instead of replying, you just bowed your head and studied the way his fingers looked wrapped around your wrists. When you were only a few minutes away from the Sanctuary, Negan released you, patting the back of a hand gently.

“Ya did good, doll,” he said, voice warm and contrasting with the way he had sounded earlier. “I’m proud of you. I have a few things I need to do around the Sanctuary, but I know you’re probably ready to get rid of those beads. Give me half an hour, and I should be able to meet you in your room. If I’m not there by then, you can take ‘em out yourself. Just grab the loop and pull. Try to get them all in one motion.”

You nodded and moved to get out of the truck. Before you could, Negan stroked his fingers down the inside of your forearm. “Missed ya, sweetheart.”

Despite the emotional toll of the day, you softened for him, turning back and pressing a kiss to his lips. When he responded, you deepened the kiss, eagerly searching for an outlet for the energy that still filled you. Negan pulled away with a regretful, almost pained laugh, palming himself through his dark jeans. “Get outta here before I skip out on the stuff I have to do and get to the stuff I want to do. I’ll see you soon. Half hour starts now.”

Surely no one could blame you for the small smile playing around your lips as you slid down from the truck and started for your room.

Now that you had gotten used to the feeling of the beads shifting inside of you, the strangeness of it had disappeared. Instead, it only stoked the fire inside of you, turning every step into sweet torture. When you finally closed the door of your room behind you, you were at a loss for what to do next.

Normally, you would help with the unloading and storage process, then take a quick shower in the attached bathroom before relaxing from the day. But you had been dismissed from unloading, showering seemed wasteful given that you hadn’t worked up a sweat at all, and there was no chance of relaxing. Instead, you found yourself watching the time with a fervor that verged on fixation.

At first, you had told yourself that you would wait for Negan.

Then it got closer to thirty minutes and you decided to undress before he got there. You know, to save time. Efficiency and all of that. Besides, you needed a chance to figure out the best position. Face down, ass up seemed horribly exposed, despite the fact that your door was locked. If you were spread-eagled on your back, the reach was a little tricky.

By the time the full half-hour had passed, you were lying on your back without a stitch of clothing on. Your knees were pressed to your chest and your hand was between your legs, one finger already thrust through the silicon loop protruding from your ass.

You should wait… you wanted to wait, but the way every muscle was trembling warned that it would be impossible. You tugged experimentally at the loop, toes twitching at the feeling. Earlier, you had wanted nothing more than to be rid of the intrusion, but now it felt almost like it was part of you. Negan’s warning to pull all the beads out at once rang through your mind and you wondered vaguely if it was going to hurt. Maybe it would help that you were so incredibly wet; the wetness was literally seeping from your pussy down to your ass.

Thirty-two minutes and your inner muscles gave a half-aborted push. It felt like a warning and you said a silent apology to Negan as you pulled the loop as hard as you could.

The resistance wasn’t nearly as strong as you had built it up to be in your head and the beads slid free with little issue. The bigger impact was the one they made on your sensitive nerve endings. Your mouth fell open around a shocked gasp as the feeling of the beads leaving your body sent you over the edge of your long-teased orgasm.

It was blissful, though you suspected it would have been stronger if Negan had been there to help out. In any case, you were left sprawled inelegantly across the bed when it ended, one finger still curled through the loop at the top of the beads.

“Fuck,” you muttered, aftershocks still rocking your body.

“Fuck is right, doll,” Negan agreed.

You glanced up so quickly that your neck gave an unhappy twinge. Negan was standing just inside your door, his key to your room still in his hand. He was breathing hard and his eyes were gleaming.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, locking the door again. “I rushed, but I figured I wouldn’t make it. Can’t say I’m sorry to come in on that view, though. Got any left for-”

When Negan finally stepped close enough to the bed for you, you tossed the beads to the floor of your room and dragged him to the mattress. He flopped agreeably onto the soft surface and you straddled him, groaning when his hands moved automatically to cup and part the cheeks of your ass.

“I need you,” you informed him. “Fuck me.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Negan vowed with a wink. “Your pussy, though. You aren’t ready for anything else.”

“I think I am,” you disagreed. “I’m not on shift tomorrow. I think now’s the perfect time.”

“You aren’t ready,” Negan repeated. “Though maybe you aren’t as far off as I thought. If you’re off tomorrow and it’s not a busy day for me… how about tomorrow night?”

You considered that, excitement budding in your chest. You hadn’t actually expected him to agree, but you wouldn’t pretend that you weren’t filled with eagerness at the thought of finally doing this for real.

“Tomorrow night is perfect,” you agreed quickly.

“I’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning,” Negan warned. “We’ll do some prep work before I take care of the business I have, then I’ll come back.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you told him, letting the sincerity ring in your voice before you turned your expression into a pout. “But does that mean you’re going to make me wait until tomorrow to have you?”

Negan scoffed. “Not a chance. Not only am I gonna fuck you, I’m gonna have at least two fingers in that tight little ass for the next few hours. We’ve got to make sure you’re opened up for me, doll. Still sound good?”

You pressed another kiss to his lips, letting your actions answer for you.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I'll be back with another installment tomorrow.

I don't offer a taglist for explicit fics, but you can find other works on my masterlist!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2023 #fanficfebruary #the walking dead #the walking dead fic #the walking dead reader insert #twd negan #negan #negan x reader #negan x you #reader insert #reader insert fic #reader insert smut #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni #mind the warnings

3 notes · View notes