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twdfemmefetal · 2 months ago

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𝐀 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐎𝐟 𝐁𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦 ⋮ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔩 𝔇𝔦𝔵𝔬𝔫

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Daryl Dixon's hands were made to kill—rough, calloused, and strong. But at the CDC, with electricity, a bottle of alcohol, and your lips wrapped around his fingers, he learns what it feels like to crave his woman's touch more than survival. Hot water. Red wine. Your mouth. And the man who owns it.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ S1 Feral Daryl Dixon ⋮ Wine Play ⋮ Pussy Worship ⋮ Primal Kink ⋮ Cunnilingus ⋮ Oral Fixation ⋮ Finger Sucking ⋮ Dry Humping ⋮ Shower BJ ⋮ Teasing ⋮ Possessive Behavior ⋮ Marking ⋮ Spanking ⋮ Spit Play ⋮ Protective Violence ⋮ Language ⋮ Shane Walsh Being An Asshole

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 10.325 ⋮ 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: S01E06 ⋮ 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Fem!Reader

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋮ 𝑨𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑶𝒇 𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝑶𝒘𝒏

The CDC was so clean it almost made you feel dizzy. After days of mostly smelling decay, the sudden lack of it felt wrong—like you'd walked into another world. Even though the world you once knew hadn't ended that long ago, it felt different nonetheless.

After the doors sealed shut behind you and once the whole group was inside the building, relief went through everyone, though no one dared to say it outright. It was the kind of relief you couldn't trust anymore, not in a new world like this.

Having introduced himself by cocking a gun at first, with the words, "Anybody infected?" Dr. Edwin Jenner stood before you, explaining the rules—blood tests first with no exceptions. "You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission," he'd told you before he asked why you were here and what you wanted, to which Rick had replied that you all just wished for a chance. Just one chance to survive for at least a little time longer.

As soon as you were all underground and gave samples of your blood away, you kept your expression neutral as Dr. Jenner drew a vial of it, but Daryl, on the other hand, didn't bother hiding his obvious annoyance.

"Can't say I blame him," you said quietly to yourself, watching as Jenner approached him with the syringe in his hand.

"Ain't no one stickin' me with nothin'," Daryl growled at him, but Rick stepped in quickly.

"We're all doing it, Daryl. He's just making sure none of us are infected, alright?"

"Yeah? That so? The hell do y'all know 'bout it?" Daryl shot back, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "And what's he doin' with it after, huh? Sellin' it to the damn government? Oh wait, that shit don't exist no more, does it?"

You couldn't help but laugh a little out loud, which made Daryl glare at you, but you simply shrugged in return, biting back a grin. "Oh, come on, Daryl. Afraid of a little prick now?"

That did it. He actually let Jenner take his blood, and when it was done, the man gestured further down one of the hallways. Dinner. Finally, you were about to eat food, something you hadn't had in days.

And as you followed the group, you couldn't deny the excitement of the luxuries around you, luxuries you all still had not that long ago. Running water, electricity, and not having to look back over your shoulder all the time in case a walker was about to attack. It was surreal as you kept looking around, and the thought of some normalcy, even as small as this, seemed too good to be true.

Daryl was still standing near a wall as Dr. Jenner and the rest of the group put the drinks and food on the table in the dining area, his eyes looking around like he was the only one preparing himself for a fight.

You approached him, leaning against the wall with a smirk. "Relax, Daryl. No walkers here."

"Place don't feel right," he grunted in response, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, well, neither does eating squirrels, but look where we are now."

As soon as his eyes looked over at you, they seemed unreadable. "Ya gonna run yer damn mouth now, or what?"

"Depends. You gonna keep pouting and standing far away from everyone else like some crying kid?"

He stepped closer, his height in comparison to yours making your pulse quicken like it always did. "Careful," he grumbled with a quiet growl. "Might decide to shut ya up."

But before you could think of an answer, Daryl backed off, leaving you to follow him in silence.

The tone of his voice seemed so casual, but the way he said it sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't help but remember how it all had started in the first place before you even became a couple.

You remembered how you hadn't thought much of it at first—his hands. They were rough, dirty, and usually smeared with blood or grime. But somewhere along the way, those hands became an unholy symbol.

Maybe it was the first time you'd really noticed them, back near the quarry, when you twisted your ankle while trying to escape several walkers surrounding you. Daryl had come out of nowhere, crossbow in hand and that feral look in his eyes that made your heart race for reasons you didn't want to admit back then. The bolts flew fast, and the walkers were down before you even had a chance to scream for help.

Then he was there, pulling you up with those hands—big, calloused, and so strong they felt like they could break you in half.

"Dumbass," he'd said as he carried you back to the camp, but the way he held you so carefully told a different story.

From then on, his hands became something you couldn't stop noticing. The way his fingers gripped his crossbow, the way he carved up whatever animal he'd managed to hunt, even the way he wiped the sweat from his face after a long day of hunting. Every move of his hands seemed primal in a way, and it wasn't long before your imagination had started wandering to places it shouldn't.

The first time it happened—really happened—was during one of those rare moments you had alone together. While scavenging, you'd been holed up in a gas station just outside of Atlanta for the night, and Daryl had found you sitting on the floor, trying to reload your gun. He'd grunted something about you being useless, then sat down beside you and taken over.

It should have been boring, just another one of those simple gestures. But then his fingers touched yours as he wanted to take the gun from your hands, and without thinking, you'd brought them to your lips.

"What the hell are ya doin'?" He'd asked, both with shock and curiosity.

You hadn't been able to answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you'd let your lips part, your tongue flicking out to taste the salt and dirt on his skin. The noise he'd made, just a quiet and low growl, had sent a shiver through your body.

"Shit," he'd growled, pulling his hand away, then looking slightly disgusted. But the way his eyes stared at you, the way his breathing had slowed—he liked it. And when you'd grabbed his wrist and brought his fingers back to your mouth, he hadn't stopped you.

That was the night everything changed between you. What started as teasing and stolen moments in the dark quickly turned into something more over time.

The image of his hands had stayed with you afterward, creeping into your mind at the worst possible times. You couldn't explain it, couldn't really shake it, and you couldn't stop wondering what it would feel like if he touched you like that—not like a man helping someone up, but with need, with lust.

The worst part? He'd caught you looking one too many times, and Daryl certainly wasn't the kind of man to let something like that slide.

An actual time he'd tested you again was weeks later, after the gas station incident. You were filthy, exhausted, and too worn out to care about much of anything—until you'd felt the touch of Daryl's fingers under your chin.

"Ya been eye-fuckin' me all damn day," he'd said. "Think I didn't notice?"

You'd opened your mouth to deny it, but the words caught in your throat as his thumb slid across your bottom lip. You didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do, because all you could focus on was the way his thumb had pressed against your lip and the roughness of his skin that was making you shiver.

"Open up."

Those words made you obey without thinking, your lips opening up just enough for him to slip his thumb into your mouth. The taste of dirt was immediate, and you should've been disgusted, but all you could think about was how completely he'd owned you at that moment.

"Yeah... Knew it. Knew ya'd be like this. Thought I'd give ya what ya been beggin' for," he'd whispered as his hand still cupped your jaw. "Go on. Show me how bad ya want it."

Pulling out his thumb, he'd pressed two other fingers against your lips, his other hand now sliding down your waist to grip your hip. Your body had reacted before your mind could catch up, your mouth opening again to take him in, your tongue moving around his fingers in an instant.

"Mhm… Got ya all wound up now, don't I? Ain't even touchin' ya for real, and yer already greedy as shit," he'd said, his hips grinding against you. "Thought 'bout makin' ya gag on 'em... see how much ya can take…"

And it didn't stop from there. He used it further against you, shamelessly even, teasing you in moments when no one else was around. Those fingers, those strong hands—they became your undoing. Whether he was teasing you in the middle of the camp or in the woods, Daryl knew exactly how to mess with your head.

Sure, he was rough around the edges, a man who didn't trust easily and didn't know how to show affection in the ways most people would. But with you, he didn't have to. The looks and signs you gave each other were enough—his hands, your lips, and the way you both seemed like two different pieces that would surprisingly fit the same puzzle.

The group had caught on eventually, of course. But only due to a fight. A stupid fight that made sure everyone in the camp knew exactly what was going on between you and Daryl. Even though you weren't exactly hiding what you had, not with the way he would turn overly protective, sometimes even aggressive, whenever someone so much as looked at you wrong.

Back then, it had to be a supply run again. Of course, it had to be. Together with Shane and Glenn, you were searching for medicine and canned supplies while the rest of the group had stayed at the quarry. It should've been simple—quick in, quick out—but Shane's tendency to live out his frustration had been messing with your nerves, and you had just about enough of his bullshit when he'd decided to start running his mouth about Daryl.

"Dixon's a loose cannon," Shane had said, tossing a can of food into his bag. "Don't know why we keep that redneck asshole around. Probably gonna get us all killed."

You didn't always agree with Daryl—hell, sometimes he pissed you off more than anyone—but Shane didn't get to talk about him like that.

"He's done more for this group than you ever have so far," you shot back at Shane, making him turn around and glare at you.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," you'd answered, stepping closer. "Daryl's kept this group alive, got us food when we needed it, even after Merle was gone. What the hell have you done, huh? Other than bitching around and crying about everything at once?"

"Careful," Shane had growled back at you. "Accidents can happen all the time, you know..."

But you didn't back down. "What are you gonna do, Shane? Hurt me because you're just some sad and whiny shit that can't get his dick wet anymore? Leave me behind and get me killed because you fucked up that affair of yours? Yeah, that's right, I know. And I don't care. In fact, I couldn't even care less about you and your pathetic problems. But sure, go ahead. See what happens."

But Shane didn't get the chance to act on the thoughts that you'd put into his mind. By the time you had made it back to the quarry, Daryl already knew something had gone down. He could see it in the way your jaw clenched as you walked toward the fire, trying to act like nothing was wrong, but Shane wasn't done.

"Why don't you tell everyone else what you were saying, huh?" Shane yelled after you, loud enough to get everyone's attention. "Go ahead. You got such a damn mouth out there; let's hear it now."

You froze mid-step, eyes narrowing as you turned. "Oh, you mean the part where I said Daryl's done more for this group than your sorry ass ever has? Yeah. I said it. I'll say it again, too."

Shane's laugh was bitter. "You know what I think? I think you two deserve each other. A bitch and a backwoods freak. Makes sense."

Those words weren't even fully said yet when Daryl was on him.

It was fast—him coming at Shane with his fists. Rick shouted something, Glenn went to help, but nobody moved fast enough. Daryl had Shane by the collar, dragging him down, fists hitting him again and again.

"Ya call her that again," Daryl growled. "I'll break yer fuckin' jaw so hard ya gonna choke on yer teeth."

"What the hell's your damn problem, Dixon?!"

"You," Daryl had spat, his chest heaving as he closed the distance between them. "Got a problem with me too, ya say it to my damn face! Don't run yer goddamn mouth 'bout us behind my back!"

He quickly pushed Shane away, and then his eyes went to you. "You," he snapped, walking toward you. "With me. Now."

"What?"

But he didn't answer anymore. Daryl grabbed your wrist hard, pulling you away from the group, dragging you toward the treeline like he owned you—and maybe he already did.

"Daryl—what the hell?" You hissed, stumbling behind him.

As soon as you were out of view, his hands pinned you back against a tree, leaving them next to either side of your head, caging you in. "Ya just gotta go pickin' a fight with that asshole, don't ya?"

"I was defending you, Daryl!"

"And I don't need ya damn defendin'!"

"Maybe I do! Maybe I'm tired of letting assholes like him talk to me like I'm some whore just because I'm not scared to want you!"

That did it.

In one rough move, he grabbed your chin, tilting your face up. "Ya wanna prove somethin' to me, woman? That right? Ya got somethin' else to say to me, too?"

"Yeah," you'd snapped back at him with a snarl. "I'm sick of you acting like you don't give a shit when it's obvious that you do!"

"Ya don't know what the hell yer talkin' 'bout."

"Oh? Don't I?" You'd shot back, your voice shaking with anger. "Just admit it, Daryl! Just do it! Admit something for once in your damn life!"

For a moment, he'd said nothing, just staring at you.

Then he had kissed you.

It wasn't soft or gentle. It was rough and desperate, like he himself was trying to prove a point. His hands had slid up your sides when he finally pulled back, and his forehead was pressing against yours.

"Stand up for me like that again, woman, I swear… I'll have ya on yer damn hands and knees and show ya what happens."

And show you he did. Right there against the tree, with the camp just out of sight and everyone else wondering what the hell had happened. By the time the two of you had returned, sweaty and disheveled, it was clear to everyone that something had changed.

"Guess we know where they stand now," Dale had sighed, shaking his head, his expression half amused.

Shane had been the second to say something, leaning against the hood of the RV with a shit-eating grin and holding a rag against his bloody lip. "Yeah… Never would've thought Dixon was the type to settle down with such a loud-ass slut. Sounded more like she was screaming for help out there, not begging to get railed," he'd said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Least when she screams, it ain't 'cause she's realizin' she picked the wrong brother."

That made Shane shut up. Glenn choked on his water. Rick furrowed his brow, confused—but Lori? Lori froze.

After that, the others were less loud about you both. T-Dog seemed more confused than anything, like he was trying to figure out what you even saw in Daryl, while Andrea gave you those knowing looks that made your face heat up and your cheeks burn red.

Back at the table in the dining area of the CDC, the food was already passed around as you pulled your focus away from the memories, along with an opened bottle of wine. The laughter and conversations felt uncomfortable for you at first, but then, slowly, you turned more relaxed as the rest of the group let their guard down as well.

You sat next to Daryl, who had barely touched his plate at first. Instead, you drank the alcohol and looked around with a smile that was barely there before he started to joke around, too.

"Keep drinkin', little man. I wanna see how red your face can get!"

The group laughed at his words, and you caught the way Daryl had relaxed. Liquid courage, maybe. Or just the comfort of not being the outsider for once.

"I thought you weren't a fan of the CDC?" You teased softly so that only he could hear. "Or are you now? Just like that, huh?"

"Shut it," he answered, but there was no real anger behind his words.

As the others continued to talk and laugh, you felt it all of a sudden—a quick touch of his rough fingers against your lips. It was so fast you almost thought you imagined it, but when you glanced at Daryl, you saw the corner of his mouth turn into a smirk again.

That bastard was playing with you.

He soon did it again, under the guise of reaching for his drink. This time, your reaction was instinctive. Your lips parted, your tongue sliding out to kiss and taste the tip of his finger.

You had to bite your lip to keep from reacting further as he then leaned back, closer to you.

"Careful, woman," he whispered. "Ya keep doin' that, and I might forget where we are."

This made you remember the last time he did exactly that—forgetting where you both were since you've been in a relationship.

A run gone wrong, the two of you holed up in a building with a barricaded door and walkers outside. It had started like everything did with Daryl: tension, silence, and then frustration when you'd made some idiotic remark.

But his eyes—God, his eyes—were locked on your mouth like he had wanted to devour you alive.

"Quit staring," you'd whispered, just to piss him off a little.

Big mistake.

In one motion, he had pulled you onto his lap, his hand pressing down over your mouth.

"Shut. Up."

His other hand was shoved inside your pants, fingers sliding over your pussy with zero warning. You moved, but he'd held you down, his lips close to your ear. "Told ya I'd shut ya up. If ya make a noise, I stop."

Biting his palm to muffle your cries, you'd felt how his fingers suddenly curled inside you, rough and thick. You hadn't made a sound—not when he pushed those two fingers deeper inside you, not when his thumb touched your clit just right, and definitely not when your body jerked on his lap as if he'd shocked you.

Outside, the walkers groaned. Inside, Daryl's breath hitched as you came hard on his hand, his growl vibrating against your skin. "Knew ya could be quiet."

Indeed, he was good at shutting you up whenever he wanted you to be silent.

Coming back to your senses again, you stole another glance at Daryl as you drank your own glass of wine in silence. His fingers tapped against the table, restless even now. Those fingers had become your undoing, and he knew it all too well.

It was almost cruel, the way he had brushed them near your lips only moments before, knowing exactly how your body would react. You tried to ignore him, tried to focus on the laughter and conversation around you, but his little smirk was still there.

"You two okay over there?" Glenn's voice made your heart jump as you quickly looked away.

"Fine," Daryl grunted in response, his tone still as gruff as ever, making Glenn shrug before he turned back to his conversation with the rest of the group, leaving you and Daryl to yourselves.

"Keep it up," Daryl then grumbled under his breath at you, seemingly out of nowhere, and his voice was low enough that only you could hear. "See what happens when we're alone."

You barely had time to process that threat as Dr. Jenner stood up, with the rest of the group suddenly following him. The group's laughter had stopped as he had explained the CDC's suicides, the desperation, and how everyone had lost hope. But you weren't listening. Not really.

Your skin still burned where Daryl's fingers had brushed your lips. Your pulse still hammered in your ears, having drowned out Jenner's words. All you could focus on were the memories of how it had all started with Daryl.

But what exactly would happen when you were alone and out of sight again?

The thought consumed you so completely that you barely noticed when Jenner finally started to walk down a hallway, gesturing for you all to follow.

"Most of the facility is powered down, including housing," he said, leading you all down a hallway. "You'll have to make do here. The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like. There's a rec room down the hall—just don't plug in the video games. Or anything that draws power. The same applies... If you shower, go easy on the hot water."

"Hot water?" Glenn asked in disbelief, and T-Dog grinned in return.

"That's what the man said!"

As quick as those words about hot water had left Jenner's mouth, leaving everyone in shock and relief, the group was already splitting off to claim spaces. But you? The second he was done talking, you slipped away—further down the hallway, past the rec room next, toward a room to claim and the promise of a hot shower.

But what you didn't notice? Daryl stayed behind, his eyes locked on you like a predator tracking down prey.

You didn't look back at him.

Because you felt it—the moment he followed.

The second you slipped away, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Daryl's presence was unmistakable, even without him making a sound. He was just like that—always close enough to be in your space, but never too obvious.

And he had no intention of letting you get away so easily.

Another full bottle of wine was in his hand as he moved silently behind you, and you paused, hand resting on a door, just as you reached one of the free rooms. You were so close to washing away everything—the grime, the dirt, everything that had happened over the past few weeks.

But then, without warning, you felt one hand on your wrist, spinning you around with enough force to make your breath catch in your throat. His face was inches from yours, and you could see the same look he always got when he was ready to claim something, and you knew it wasn't going to be easy to escape this time.

Daryl's lips were on yours before you could even think to answer, rough and hard, forcing a groan out of you as he backed you into the wall of the hallway. You didn't have time to resist, not that you really wanted to. His fingers gripped your chin, tilting your head back as his tongue demanded yours.

It was a kiss that left no room for doubt before his hand was moving down your neck and over your tits next. It was reckless, almost violent, but that was Daryl. Always untamed.

You let out a breathy laugh, not that it mattered to him.

"Don't need no damn shower," he said between kisses. "Waste o' time." His hand soon slid down to your waist, fingers digging into your flesh with a roughness that only seemed to make you want him more.

You barely heard the words—too caught up in the sensation of his touch, his mouth, and his body pressing against you. It wasn't just the kiss, not just the way his touch felt—it was everything. The way Daryl made you lose control, the way he could bring you to the edge without ever needing to say anything much.

Yes, he was always like that. Rough. Raw. No apologies. And it drove you wild. You didn't know if it was the isolation of the world now or just Daryl's overwhelming presence, but you'd grown accustomed to that hunger. His hunger. And to the way it felt when he took what he wanted, no questions asked.

"Not here," you managed to gasp quietly between kisses, though you weren't even sure what you were suggesting. "We're still in the hallway, Daryl…"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. Ain't got the patience for this," he growled in return, biting your lower lip and grabbing the door handle next to you. "Rather taste ya like this—dirty, mine."

Not giving you the time to answer, he shoved the door open behind you, pushing you inside, and kicking it shut again with his boot, before Daryl pushed you back against it, the wine bottle in his other hand pressed to your throat like a warning.

"Ain't no runnin' away now. Ya gonna drink first."

You nodded before he tipped the bottle to your lips, the red wine running down your chin, before he licked it off with a groan.

"Ain't 'bout gettin' clean," he growled against your jaw, his tongue licking along your skin. "Don't needa be clean for me."

"Daryl, please… Come on, just let me take that shower!" You managed to laugh, trying to hold your ground, but your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

"Ain't no damn shower worth this," Daryl answered, his free hand grabbing your jaw roughly, forcing your gaze upward. His thumb touched your bottom lip, and that simple touch made your heart beat faster. "Ya think ya can just go?"

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

But Daryl's grip on your jaw loosened anyway as he stepped back like the war inside him had pulled him in two directions—fuck you stupid right here or let you go just long enough to drive him even crazier.

He stared at you for a moment, then dropped the wine bottle to the floor next to the couch in the room.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Go wash off, woman."

Opening the door to the shower for you, he was then standing to the side but still crowding your space, his eyes staring at your body like he was imagining you naked already.

"But ya leave that door open, y'hear?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, heart racing. "So you are gonna follow me?"

He smirked in response, tilting his head just enough to make your thighs clench. "Ain't sayin' I will. Ain't sayin' I won't."

You gave him a playful smile—half daring, half pleading.

"Daryl," you whispered, your voice breathy as your hands moved to his chest to push him away from you. "You still want me?"

"Ain't that obvious?"

You didn't answer. Instead, you turned around slowly, letting your hips move and your ass shake as you reached for your shirt. One glance back over your shoulder told you everything—he was sitting on the couch by now, legs spread wide, chest rising with every shaky breath.

Your fingers slid under the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head in one smooth motion, and the air hit your bare skin as soon as you got rid of your bra, your nipples hardening instantly.

Your pants slid down next, you shaking your ass on purpose as you stepped out of them until you were standing there fully naked, hair messy, lips swollen. And God, the way he looked at you like he was a few seconds away from fucking you right then and there…

He was sitting there, one hand grabbing the couch like restraint was the only thing keeping him from standing up again.

"Think I forgot something," you then whispered before you stepped back toward him, straddling his lap without hesitation. Your naked skin pressed to his pants as you started to grind against him slowly—agonizingly so.

Daryl's breath hitched, his hands shooting to your waist, thumbs digging into your hips as he hissed, "Ya teasin' me now?"

You didn't answer. Not with words.

Instead, you leaned down, guiding his face to your chest, and when his mouth closed around one nipple, his teeth scraped along it just enough to make you gasp. Both his tongue and lips were needy, licking and sucking as if wanting to mark bruises onto your tits like he was starved—like he didn't care about anything else but tasting you.

"Fuck, Daryl," you moaned, back arching, nails scratching down to his biceps, trying to hold on.

Then, when you knew he was ready—ready for more—you pulled back, grabbed the alcohol bottle that was still standing next to the couch, and brought it to your lips.

Red wine ran down your chin and onto your tits before you let some of it drip from your mouth into his, watching his eyes close as he tasted it and you all at once.

Daryl's deep groan hit you like a shock.

The second your wet lips let the wine drip into his mouth, you felt him twitch beneath you—his cock hardening under your pussy like it had a mind of its own. His pants pressed against your folds, the friction making your breath stutter as you ground down harder, slower.

And he felt it. God, he felt it.

His hips bucked up more, unable to stop, his cock straining so hard you rolled your hips again, dragging your soaked pussy along that thick, hard outline—once, twice, again, and again—until he was hissing loudly.

You smirked through your quick pants, teasing your clit against his bulge again with another slow grind. "Are you going to beg for it, Dixon?"

"Beg?" He smirked in response. "Ain't beggin'. Just takin'."

Daryl then snapped—grabbing a handful of your ass and lifting his hips to shove you down harder on his lap, so your pussy was pushed right along his cock again. You cried out, his pants now soaked through, his cock throbbing beneath you, twitching as hard as ever.

And he just watched you—breathing like crazy, his chest rising and falling fast as he stared at you with that wild look in his eyes, but it wasn't enough. He wanted more.

You let out another cry—half-laugh, half-gasp—as he flipped you onto your back in one rough move, his face already moving down your body. He dragged his stubbled jaw across your belly, biting your skin just hard enough to leave little stings of pain and pleasure behind. His hands pushed your thighs open, spreading you wide without an ounce of hesitation.

"Wine," he continued, and you didn't have time to ask before he grabbed the bottle, pouring a slow stream down between your tits, then down your stomach, until he was letting it drip between your thighs.

"Daryl—" You choked out, body jerking, but he didn't answer.

Not letting you argue, his mouth was on you in an instant.

He licked the wine straight off your skin, groaning low in his throat as he tasted every drop. His tongue was hot and rough, sliding over the curves of your body, to your inner thighs—closer—until he was right there.

You weren't ready. You thought you were, but the second his tongue met your clit, you arched off the couch like he'd shocked you.

"Jesus—fuck!"

Daryl growled against you, holding you down as your hips bucked helplessly. "Thought ya wanted a shower?"

His tongue moved in a punishing rhythm—quick licks that made you try to squirm away, but his strong hands were like iron fists. He shifted lower, burying his face deep, letting his tongue slide through your folds and suck hard on your clit until your back arched and your moan broke in your throat.

"Daryl, fuck, Daryl—"

That just spurred him on. His nose pressed against you, tongue working deep. He poured a little more wine, this time straight down onto your pussy, and the cold mixed with the heat of his mouth made you cry out, legs trembling.

Then he pulled back just enough to say, "Ride it."

He shoved his shoulders under your thighs, grabbed your ass, and pulled you back with him and you down onto his face. "Ya heard me. Ride it. Fuckin' use me."

You gasped—whimpered—but obeyed, rolling your hips slowly at first, grinding down onto his tongue as he groaned into you like he couldn't get enough. It was messy and wild, with wine running down your thighs and his chin, his stubble soaked with it and your wetness before he slapped your ass.

"Harder."

You obeyed.

Fingers tangling in his hair and your moans coming out uncontrolled, you rode his face like a savage. His tongue never let up—licking and sucking you with his mouth until your whole body shook.

Your back arched as he spit on your clit, then slurped it up like he'd been dying of thirst, and he didn't give a single shit. His face was soaked by now, and when you tried to move? Tried to shift away, even just an inch?

SMACK!

He slapped your ass so hard you wanted to cry out loud.

Daryl's hands weren't just holding your ass now—they were playing. One hand cupped a cheek tight, spreading you wide open while his thumb traced along between them, dangerously close, just to tease.

"Damn fuckin' view," he groaned into your cunt, spit dribbling down his chin. "Gonna fuckin' die right here, suffocated in this damn pussy."

Then—SMACK—his palm hit your other cheek, hard enough to make you yelp. "Grind harder. Rub that needy fuckin' clit all over my mouth."

You obeyed, moaning some more, your pussy soaking his tongue. His nose rubbed your clit with each thrust while his tongue slid down, licking deeper, dirtier. Then you felt it—his thumb pressing lower.

"Bet ya ain’t been touched here, huh?" He growled, his voice muffled but clear enough. "Bet not. But still beggin’ like ya want it here like the rest o' ya."

You choked on a gasp, grinding harder on his face as he groaned. "Keep ridin' like that, woman," he snarled against your skin. "Keep that damn pussy on my fuckin' face."

He kept you right where he wanted—his hands wrapped around your ass, spreading your cheeks wide, squeezing and pawing. He seemed obsessed—grunting and groaning, licking everywhere, switching between tongue-fucking you and just dragging the flat of it up and down your slit all shamelessly.

"Fucking hell, Daryl—" You whimpered, your body trembling.

But then came the wine again.

You didn't even notice him grabbing the bottle once more—you just felt the sudden chill as he tilted it up and let it pour all over your lower back, your ass, and down to your pussy. The alcohol hit your skin in streams, ran between your cheeks, and right down into his mouth in the front.

"Tastes like mine…" He groaned like you were divine. "C'mon, woman. Gimme all o' that. I know yer close."

Your head fell back, mouth open in a silent cry, your pussy dripping on his face, the mix of wine and your wetness sliding down his chin and onto the couch.

And your orgasm hit hard.

You moaned—loud, raw, shaking on top of him as your body convulsed. "F-Fuck, Daryl—!"

But he held you down, licking and sucking you through it, eyes wild beneath you like he was praying for his own religion to unfold. His mouth stayed on your clit, tongue still relentless even as your body shook, twitching with aftershocks.

And even then, he didn't stop.

He just kept going.

Your hands searched for anything to hold on to—his hair, the side of the couch, the wall—as he brought you to the edge way too fast once more. Your thighs trembled violently, your body collapsing forward onto the couch, but his arms wrapped around your hips and kept your ass and pussy in his face.

"Fuckin' perfect," he growled, licking and sucking you slower now, almost lazy, not wanting to let you fall a second time on purpose. "Can't get 'nough. Never gonna stop wantin' this sweet fuckin' pussy."

You whined, too far gone for words.

There was drool on your chin.

Tears on your cheeks.

Wine everywhere.

Finally, finally, he groaned into your pussy, gave your ass one last squeeze, and let you slide off his mouth.

You collapsed next to him on the couch, catching your breath.

Daryl just wiped his face with the back of his hand, then licked it clean with a smirk. His lips were swollen, his eyes seemed satisfied, and his stubble was soaked with wine and you.

"Now go take yer fuckin' shower," he casually said after a while. "'Fore I fuck ya face down on one of 'em cots from the storage next."

Soon stumbling toward the shower, you looked like a woman who had barely survived the possessed man that was just between your thighs.

And Daryl?

He sat back on the couch, legs still spread wide, cock hard, and his tongue running over his teeth, watching your ass sway the whole way into the bathroom.

But even as you stumbled, legs barely working, you didn't close the door, just like he had told you. After all, you knew he was watching.

So you slowed your pace at the edge of the bathroom, just enough to give him a show. You paused, leaning one arm against the wall like you needed the support, and glanced back over your shoulder.

He was still there.

Still on that couch with his legs spread wide, that cock of his tenting his pants like it was ready to rip through them, and his chest was rising and falling like he'd been running from a horde of walkers.

So you dragged your hand slowly up the wall, the other down your hip, letting your fingers move through the wine still glistening on your skin.

"Are you really just gonna sit there?" You breathed, your voice wrecked and eyes half-lidded. "Or are you that scared of a little soap?"

"Ain't scared of nothin'," he snapped back at you with a smirk. "Don't mean I gotta like it."

You arched an eyebrow, tilting your head. "Guess that means you're just gonna sit there and pretend not to be scared?"

"The hell I am," he answered as he shifted, one knee now bouncing like a fuse had just been lit.

Then—just to make it worse—you turned around fully, facing him now, flushed and sticky, and ran your fingers down between your thighs, feeling the mess he'd left behind. You brought them to your lips and sucked two fingers clean with a soft, wet pop.

"Still tastes like your dirty, fucking, nasty mouth," you whispered, letting your tongue drag along your fingers again before you smiled. "Disgusting as shit."

That was it.

His boots hit the floor hard as he stood up, his chest heaving.

"Disgusting and nasty, huh?"

Not giving him the satisfaction of an answer, right as you moved inside the bathroom and turned on the hot water of the shower, you heard how he was coming closer, taking his time just long enough to take another look at you.

That hard cock of his, still straining against his pants like it was fighting to break free, was now a problem—one he seemed pissed about. Glancing back over your shoulder, you saw the way his jaw clenched and how his eyes narrowed at you like you'd just dared him to stay uncomfortable for a moment longer.

With a grunt, Daryl stepped into the bathroom fully, the heat from the shower already fogging the mirror next to him. He stepped out of his boots as if they offended him; his pants were hitting the floor next after his hands went straight to his belt, yanking it open as fast as he could.

"Fuckin' shit," he grumbled, almost to himself, before shoving his boxers down. "This what ya wanted, huh? Fancy-ass hot water and soap?"

His cock sprang free, thick and hard, slapping up against his stomach—and God, the groan that tore from his throat when it was finally free made your pussy ache.

His shirt? He ripped that off with one rough pull, letting it drop wherever, and you watched the muscles of his chest and arms flex with every move before he turned to the door, closing it but still keeping an eye on you through the mirror. His scars were there on his back—ugly, beautiful, everything at once—and all his, just like everything else he gave you.

But Daryl caught you looking. Of course, he did.

"The fuck are ya starin' at?" He asked, voice rough, eyes dropping down to your drenched skin.

"You," you breathed quietly, backing up a step under the hot water, beckoning him in with just a tilt of your head. "Always you."

You were expecting another comment, maybe a grunt—but Daryl wasn't saying anything.

"Daryl…" You started softer this time.

He was still only staring until he was moving quickly, pushing you against the cold wall of the shower, the water pouring down on him, and his hand gripping your chin hard enough to tilt your head up and shut you up all at once.

"Don't," he growled. "Ain't gonna talk 'bout that shit."

You opened your mouth—but he kissed you instead.

No warning, no tenderness. Just claiming. Tongue and teeth and water-drenched skin pressed to yours, making you taste the wine and yourself on his lips, making you feel the way his hands trembled as they held you in place.

You didn't even try to argue.

Not when one of his hands grabbed your ass and pushed his cock against you like a warning.

And definitely not when he whispered, "Ain't scared of no damn scars. And you? Ya keep lookin' at me like that, woman, and yer gonna learn just how much I ain't scared of you either."

Still, it didn't take long for him to give in to it all. Into you. His body soon relaxed, the tension going away as he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the water run down over him and feeling the warmth of it on his skin. He wasn't used to this kind of comfort, but you could tell he was enjoying it in his own way.

Not giving him much time to lose his focus, you took one single step closer to him, the water streaming over your skin as you moved. His eyes opened when you reached for him again, but this time, your fingers slid over his flexing muscles, making him shiver under your touch.

"Shit," Daryl grunted, right before his hand shot out to stop you, his rough fingers sliding over your lips like he owned them. And you? You didn't even pretend to hesitate. Your lips parted on instinct, like they'd been waiting for his touch all along.

He watched you—those blue eyes narrowing as he slid his thumb into your mouth, slow, almost mocking you. You wrapped your lips around it and sucked, slowly, letting your tongue move around the tip of it like you wanted him to feel just how badly you needed more of him.

"That's it," he grunted as he watched you closely, that everlasting smirk returning to his lips. "Knew ya couldn't help yerself. Every damn time ya just gotta—"

He didn't even finish. It was as if the words got lost somewhere in the back of his throat before he pulled his thumb out and replaced it with two of his thick fingers. They pushed in deeper—past your lips, over your tongue, down until your jaw hurt, and you sucked on them just as greedily.

"Now actin' like ya were starvin' for it, huh?" He growled as his fingers stayed inside your throat, fucking your mouth with them. "Ain't the damn shower ya wanted. Nah. Coulda just fuckin' asked, ya know."

But you didn't wanna ask.

You never did.

Because with Daryl, it wasn't about asking—it was about taking. Anywhere. Even at a place like the CDC.

As the warm water continued to pour down, dripping off his head and running down his shoulders and chest, you looked down—truly looked down at him this time. That thick, veiny cock of his twitching, throbbing, leaking precum between his legs, and just begging to be touched.

With your hand immediately following your eyes, your fingers wrapped around his cock, and the hiss that came out of his mouth made your eyes widen.

"Fuck—" Daryl groaned out, his hips jerking forward the second you started to stroke him. It was slow at first, your fist tightening just a little near the tip to tease him a bit. "Ya tryna fuckin' kill me?"

But he didn't stop you. Didn't even want to.

Two of his fingers stayed in your mouth until you gagged lightly around them—but didn't pull away. His other hand came to grab the back of your neck, just enough to keep you there. Right where he wanted you to be.

"Look at ya… suckin' on my fingers like that while ya got yer hand on my cock... Jesus fuckin' Christ."

Drooling around Daryl's fingers by now, your lips feeling swollen from the pressure, eyes glassy as you moaned softly for him. You were grinding your thighs together again, barely breathing as you stroked him harder and faster, and he noticed—like he always did.

"Ya like that?" He asked, tilting his head as soon as he noticed how you were grinding and clenching your thighs together. "Like tastin' me while ya touchin' my cock?"

You nodded, or tried to, but his fingers pressed deeper down your throat and made your eyes water, long enough until he had you pushed down onto your knees in front of him.

Then he gripped his cock for a moment—just to line it up near your lips—and tapped the thick tip against them once. Twice. Smearing the water, his precum, and your spit across your mouth and chin.

"Open," he ordered, voice ragged. "Wanna see that mouth stretched 'round me."

Daryl looked as if he was close already. Due to need and by how your hand had felt on him, touching him like you never wanted to let go.

You parted your lips again, teasing him just a bit with the tip of your tongue.

"Hell, woman… I swear I'm gonna come just from this damn view," he growled. "Ya gonna swallow every drop I give ya?"

Biting your lower lip with a slight smile, you nodded slowly.

Your mouth opened obediently—eagerly—and your tongue moved out just to tease him once more, to taste the precum of him, and you knew he was trying hard to hold back.

He had one hand pressed against the wet wall behind you, the other in your drenched hair now, holding it tight enough to make it sting. "Bet ya been thinkin' 'bout this all damn day."

You didn't answer him anymore.

Instead, you sank your mouth down onto his cock, letting the underside of his shaft slide over your tongue until the tip pressed against the back of your throat. The groan that came out of Daryl was downright animalistic—deep, loud, and primal. He was already bucking forward before you even had all of him down.

"Shit—fuck—" He hissed, hips twitching as you sucked him in deeper.

You started to move—head bobbing, lips sucking tight, drool running down your chin as the water of the shower cleaned it away from above. Your hand worked what your throat couldn't reach, stroking the base while your tongue licked and flicked and worshipped.

"Yeah… just like that. Deep as ya can—don't stop."

His grip tightened in your hair, and he began to fuck your mouth a bit faster now, just enough to hear a few little gags.

"Got ya down on yer knees suckin' me off in a fuckin' shower like it's the only thing ya ever wanted."

You moaned around his cock—loud, needy—and the sound of it made him snarl, his other hand slapping against the wall, trying to hold himself together.

Knowing that he was right on edge already, since, after all, he'd been holding back so far, Daryl wanted to keep his focus only on what he worshipped the most. You.

But you felt it in every twitch of his cock, every groan, every grunt he couldn't bother hiding anymore, how much he wanted to let go. It made you suck harder, faster, one hand massaging his balls and the other gripping his trembling thigh.

"Shit, gonna—" He announced just as it was about to happen, shoving his cock in deep—just enough to make you gag one last time—before pulling back slightly with a strangled groan, hips jerking as he came hard, and his cum shooting onto your tongue and down your throat. But you kept sucking him, eyes looking up at him even though the water was still pouring down on you, tasting him.

Daryl's whole body shook, his chest rising and falling with quick gasps for air, with his mouth open as he stared down at you like he couldn't believe what you just did to him.

But before you could even swallow the last of his cum, he was grabbing you—pulling you back up against him with one arm around your waist, the other gripping your ass roughly. Your lips were still wet with him, so slick with drool and cum when he crashed his mouth onto yours.

He kissed you like a man starved. Tongue pushing in deep, tasting himself in your mouth, and growling like it turned him on all over again.

He didn't stop kissing you for as long as he could hold his breath, his hand sliding all over your ass again, fingers slipping between the cheeks, pressing right where you knew he loved to play and tease.

"Bet ya still want it," he then whispered against your jaw, pressing the tip of his finger deeper, not quite pushing inside, but just enough to make you whimper. "Even after takin' me down that pretty throat, ya still want it, don't ya? Wanting me…"

You moaned into Daryl's neck, clinging to him, your arms immediately wrapping around him as he held you like he was scared you might fall.

But he didn't push further. Not with your body still shivering, still breathless from how he'd handled you.

Letting go of you slowly, almost hesitantly, his eyes weren't leaving yours.

"Finish yer shower," he said after a while, that tiny smirk coming back onto his face again as he stepped out, still soaking wet, with the water dripping off him.

Not even reaching for a towel, he bent over, grunting as he took the shirt he'd ripped off earlier from the floor. It was wet, still dirty, and smelled like sweat—but that didn't stop him.

He just ran it down his arms and across his chest, barely bothering to dry himself off completely, though he didn't put it on, throwing it back onto the floor.

"Ain't closin' the door," he threw in, right before he grabbed his pants next, like anyone had asked. No boxers. He just shoved himself into his beat-up pair of pants like he hadn't just come down your throat like an animal. And then?

Then he dropped himself back on the wine-drenched couch.

Legs wide open. Shirtless. Still wet. One hand slid through his hair, the other resting between his thighs like he wasn't doing anything, but oh—he was doing everything. Just sitting there, smirking, and watching you.

Even when you thought he would maybe doze off from the heat and the exhaustion, you caught him looking from time to time—his eyes barely open, but still tracking you like you were prey.

You finished up slowly in the shower, dragging out every second just to see if he'd react once more. He didn't. But one hand did move just a little more south, his fingers resting dangerously close to where your mouth had just been.

And right when you thought he'd keep quiet, let you get that moment of silence, maybe even dry off in peace—Daryl was talking again.

"The hell are ya takin' so long in there for?" He grunted. "Ain't like ya gotta shave yer damn legs or nothin'. Who are ya tryna impress?"

"Maybe I just wanted a moment alone to clean your cum off my face, Dixon," you shot back, a towel half-wrapped around your waist as soon as you stepped out, not bothering to cover yourself much.

"Well, ya missed a spot," he grumbled, jerking his chin toward your mouth. "Right there."

Of course, you knew there wasn't anything left behind, but playing along, you licked the corner of your mouth just to taunt him and noticed how your legs were shaking again—but not from exhaustion right now.

From him.

From that man right there, sitting on a couch that smelled like sweat, wine, and you.

But you made no move to rush. No shame. No hurry. You walked toward him, still trembling, and without asking, you climbed right back onto him—straddling his lap, your thighs sliding over his pants as you sat down gently on top of him, like you were home there. His cock wasn't hard now—but it twitched under you anyway.

Daryl let out a low grunt when your ass moved into place, and one strong hand landed instinctively on your back.

"Ain't even dry yet, and yer sittin' on my lap like ya forgot how to stand straight…"

You leaned in, putting your arms loosely around his neck, brushing your nose lightly against his cheek.

"Neither are you," you whispered in return, smiling against his skin. "You'd say no?"

"Won't say 'no' to ya, woman. 'S the damn problem," Daryl answered, both his hands finding your hips now, holding you steady while you rolled them over his pants again. Then his mouth was on yours once more—brutal, with no warning, and slow, like he was trying to crawl inside you with just his tongue. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he kissed you, pulling your wet hair to tilt your head back.

And he didn't waste a second.

He bit down hard, just under your jaw, before sucking a bruise into your skin. Not a hickey—no, this was a mark. His mark. You felt your blood rush under the skin there, your pulse quickening, and the slight pain as his stubble scratched your neck and his mouth moved lower.

"Gonna wear that for me," he growled, his tongue licking over the bite. But before he could do anything further, you sat up straight, smiling, and reached for clothes of yours—wherever they'd landed earlier.

At least your shirt was within reach. Grabbing it quickly, you put it over your head as you stayed straddling him, and Daryl still watched, though he didn't speak. But those hands of his? They never stopped sliding over your body, even as you finished mostly dressing up.

Not knowing any better, you leaned into his ear and whispered, "Are you going to sit here looking like this, or are you gonna go get us another bottle?"

That got him.

"'Nother bottle o' red, huh?" He asked with an arched eyebrow. "Ya mean just like the one I poured down yer pussy while ya were all desperate for it?"

You grinned in return. "Maybe?"

He huffed—more laugh than annoyance—and smacked your thigh before pushing you off his lap. "Fine. But I ain't gettin' it just so we can talk feelings or none of that shit."

You stayed on the couch after he stood up, watching him as he went to grab his shirt again—the same one from before, dirty, soaked with some water, and wrinkled.

You half expected him to throw it aside again, but he didn't. He put it back on, scowling the whole time. "Fucked up my goddamn shirt."

"You ripped it off yourself, Daryl."

"Still counts."

He rolled his eyes—but a smile was there. Small. Tiny.

For another moment, the CDC was quiet. No walkers. No survival. Just you. Him. Another bottle of wine somewhere in the building. And the certainty that when he came back, you'd start all over again.

Then—because life clearly didn't know when to leave the both of you alone—you heard it.

A quick shout. Not far away. Muffled. Angry.

"Stay put," Daryl instantly said and walked out into the hallway.

That's when he saw him.

Shane leaned against the wall with several fresh and bleeding scratches across his face. He was clearly grumbling angrily to himself—pissed, drunk, and barely holding it together.

Daryl didn't say anything at first. He walked right past him like he wasn't even there, grabbed a new bottle from the dining area from before, and twisted the cap off to take a long sip as he walked back.

Then Shane opened his mouth.

"Dirty fucking redneck living off shit and actin' like he's got it all figured out…" He said to himself at first, right before coming at Daryl directly. "What are you looking at, Dixon?!"

"Hell, I dunno. Lookin' at some dickhead that got told ‘no' and got slapped the fuck down by someone who wouldn't piss on ya if ya were burnin'."

And just as Daryl answered, turning back to face Shane, you appeared at the end of the hallway. Barely clothed. Hair still wet. Lips swollen. And you were watching—just watching—in silence, with your arms crossed.

Shane looked you up and down—and then laughed. "That all you got, Daryl? That bitch will run away as soon as there's someone better! They're all the same!"

Daryl didn't answer right away.

He just stood there, the new wine bottle still in one hand. And his eyes? They were dead calm.

But calm on Daryl never exactly meant safe.

Then he took one long step forward. That wine bottle in his hand? He lifted it, right in front of Shane, and poured some of it onto the floor between them.

"Ya don't talk ‘bout her..."

Shane still laughed, but it was quieter now. "Jesus, what the hell's your problem?"

Daryl moved. Not his fist. No. Just got up in Shane's face until their foreheads almost touched.

"Ya wanna talk like a man? Act like one, 'cause right now? Y'ain't nothin' but an idiot that got turned down. I oughta rip yer tongue out and make ya choke on it along with yer damn teeth, just like I told ya 'fore. Ya hear me?"

One more look, and Daryl stepped away from him as if he'd already won. He walked right back toward you with that same death stare he got when he was about to kill a walker. Once in front of you, he took another long sip from the open bottle.

"C'mere…"

Daryl's fingers immediately gripped your jaw, tilting your face up as if to remind you—you're his. The kiss that followed wasn't gentle this time. He pushed your mouth open with his tongue only to spit the wine from his lips down your throat, making you swallow it all down as you grabbed his shirt, trying to keep yourself steady despite your trembling legs.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless. Drunk off him more than the wine.

But Shane? Shane still stood there, snarling like he couldn't stand to watch something he'd never have.

"Bet she tastes like regret and low standards," he said loudly, but he was too cowardly to look into Daryl's eyes anymore.

And just like that, Daryl turned back toward him, handing you the wine bottle. One last drop of it ran down his chin, but he didn't even bother wiping it off.

"Ya ask what she tastes like?" Daryl hissed, voice low. "Tastes like me. Ya want some? Ya can suck it off my fuckin' cock if ya beg hard 'nough."

You gasped—whether from the words or the way Daryl said them, you weren't sure. But your body was feeling weaker, and the wine bottle almost slipped from your fingers.

Then—only then—did Daryl step back, like he'd finished what needed finishing.

"Cop polish," he continued with a smirk, "still can't shine up a piece'a shit."

Looking you up and down slowly, Daryl took the bottle back from you like it belonged there—and so did you. His arm slid around your waist again, pulling you closer to him. And this time, when he kissed you?

It was feeling like ownership.

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twdfemmefetal · 4 months ago

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Girl’s Talk

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Word count: 8k

Fluff | Smut | Filth February Prompt 2

Daryl overhears a conversation he definitely shouldn’t have, but he acts on it anyways.

The tip of my tongue is sweet Whenever I say your name Typical conversations, the smallest feelings I keep talking about them About you

Girl’s talk Girl’s talk Girl’s talk Girl’s talk about you

“It’s not my fault!”

Daryl’s steps freeze at the sound coming from your makeshift office, your voice slightly muted by the wooden door pulled shut but still seeping through the little space which separates it from the floor.

‘It’s not my fault’?

“But it is, you idiot!”

Raising an eyebrow, he adjusts the crossbow slung over his shoulder, leaning his ear closer and trying to make out the muffled voice responding back to you. It’s wrong, he knows it is - privacy and all that shit - but, God, he wants to know everything about you.

“He gives you ‘fuck me’ eyes all the time! Ask literally anyone around here, dude. He wants to rail you.”

What?

Now that catches his attention, an undeserving flash of jealousy crashing through his body as a lump forms in his throat. His grip tightens on the strap digging into skin as he swallows it down, the thought of you with someone else making him hot with anger even though he knows you’re not his. That gnaw of privacy returns, but he wants to know who has been obvious enough that anyone can see it, and why the fuck he hasn’t noticed.

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twdfemmefetal · 4 months ago

Text

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Your honor, there are bite marks on my laptop. tags: daryl dixon's slutty little lap, no smut but def naughty, grinding, kissing, dry humping. inexperienced daryl, premature ejaculation, mentions of arachnophobia, alexandria, no use of y/n yes I know I have like 50 other wips to work on but cmonnn masterlist

It started out as innocent as can be, honest to god.

The first time, it was a run gone sideways—one that started with two cars. The Camry you drove had broken down, leaving the only option of cramming into the single bench truck cab with Rick, Glenn, and Daryl. The rain was coming down in sheets, loud enough to drown out any conversation, hammering the truck’s metal roof like an unrelenting drum. There was no choice but to pile in, no time to hesitate, so you climbed in after them, waterlogged and exhausted, and sat in the first lap by the door.

You barely had time to register anything before strong hands slid around you, stiff at first, then settling firm against his own broad thighs. You looked up, blinking between the three men, before realization hit.

You were in Daryl’s lap.

Rick and Glenn didn’t seem to mind, too preoccupied with the flooded dirt roads, but Daryl? Daryl was rigid beneath you.

All sharp edges and silence, he wasn’t the type to give much away. The most you’d ever shared were quick words on hunts, muttered confirmations on runs, but that was it. He never looked at you long enough to let you wonder if he thought of you at all.

But now… now you were in his lap, warm and close, his body solid under yours, and for the first time, you were thinking about him in an entirely new way. He was handsome, sure. Very handsome, actually. But he never seemed to give any inkling of interest in anyone, really. So you never pushed.

Then the truck hit a pothole.

Your body lurched, and before your head could hit the roof of the cab, Daryl grabbed you. Big hands, rough palms, a reflexively strong grip. The sudden pull forced you to shift against him, dragging across the solid expanse of his thighs, and the feeling of him beneath you hit your stomach like a strike of flint to steel.

He hauled you back down hard, fingers digging in before they quickly jerked away as if he’d been burned by your skin. But the movement had you suddenly very aware of his body under yours.

At first, it was just heat. The firm muscles of his thighs, his body wound tight as a steel cable. But then the truck jolted again, another deep rut in the road, and this time, it sent you rolling forward, your hands pushing up into the dash to keep yourself steady.

And that’s when you felt him.

Thick. Heavy. Hard beneath you.

A sharp breath caught in your throat. Even through layers of damp denim, even with your own clothes separating you, there was no mistaking it.

Your stomach flipped, thighs tightening instinctively, trying not to react, but your body betrayed you—your fingers twitched against the dash, a slow, creeping warmth settling between your legs.

Daryl was fighting it—you could feel that too. His fingers moved, palms rubbing against the side of his own thighs, but he didn’t push you away. His breath turned uneven, hitched like he was trying and failing to keep quiet. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head tilted back against the window, jaw clenched so tight it might crack. Every muscle in his body was locked up, like he was willing himself to stillness, willing himself to not react to the feel of your ass against him.

Another bounce knocked you forward, and when your body shot forward again, you had to push your palms flat onto the dash and into him to keep yourself steady, an unintentional drag of your hips that made his breath punched out of him. The sound he let out was barely audible over the rain–a deep, guttural noise stuck somewhere between discomfort and something far more dangerous.

A slow, unbearable heat curled in your stomach, spreading low, making your breath shaky. Your body was already acting of it's own accord, your thighs clenching on instinct, your pulse hammering so loudly you swore it would give you away. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to breathe through it, to ignore the way this felt, the way your hips itched to move just a little more, just to test—to see—

And then his lips were near your ear, his voice barely more than a gravelly rasp, thick with something like desperation.

"Quit squirmin’."

A soft, helpless little whimper slipped from your lips.

You clamped a hand over your mouth immediately, but it was too late. Daryl had heard it. You knew because his whole body jerked beneath you, his hands suddenly at your waist, squeezing so tight it almost hurt. His breath came out sharp and unsteady, his thighs twitching under yours, like every muscle in him was coiled so tight he was about to snap.

When the truck finally rolled to a stop at the gates, you bolted.

You didn’t even look at him, didn’t dare risk seeing what was in his face—shock, confusion, regret, want—whatever it was, you couldn’t face it. Your heart pounded as you threw the door open, practically jumping off his lap, ignoring the way your legs trembled when your feet hit solid ground.

But later—in the solitude of your room–you found yourself lying in the dark, breath heavy, fingers slipping between your thighs as the ghost of that feeling came back with a vengeance.

The second time it happened, it also started out innocent, thank you very much.

For someone who had survived this long into the apocalypse, you sure were damn afraid of spiders. So afraid that when you and Daryl were paired up for a run, you’d nearly died when a nest of them made themselves known. One second, you were reaching into a cupboard for an old can of green beans, the next you were screaming, stumbling back, and then—out cold on the floor.

Daryl had freaked. He’d never seen someone just faint before, not outside of blood loss or injury. He crouched down fast, tapping at your cheek, muttering your name, but you were completely gone. Before he could even process that, a sound outside made his stomach drop—low, guttural hisses, the unmistakable snarl of the dead, drawn in by the sound of your scream.

He didn’t have time to wait for you to wake up.

So, in the most awkward, uncomfortable way imaginable, he scooped you up, hauled you onto his bike, and realized real fast that an unconscious person wasn’t exactly great at holding on. You were too slack, too limp—one wrong turn and you’d slide right off.

Daryl swore under his breath, already sweating at the thought of what he was about to do.

Before he could think too hard about the repercussions of it all, he repositioned you in his lap, facing him, legs hooked around his thighs, arms lightly folded in front of you and against his stomach. His arm curled around your back, holding you upright, while his other hand gripped the handlebar. It was awkward as hell trying to steer while keeping you from slumping sideways, but he managed.

Then you started to stir.

At first, it was subtle—your fingers twitching against his chest, a faint murmur against his shoulder. He prayed you’d stay out just long enough for him to get back to camp because if you woke up like this…

But of course, that would’ve been too easy.

A slow, unconscious shift—your body adjusting, pressing closer, your hips shifting forward right against him.

Daryl tensed so hard he thought he might snap in half.

His arm around your back locked up, his grip on the handlebar nearly crushing it. He forced his focus on the road, on anything but the slow friction against his lap. But then you sighed—soft, barely there, breath warm against his neck—and fuck, he felt it. The heat of you, the lazy drag of your hips as your body instinctively sought comfort.

His jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached.

This was not happening again.

But it was.

And it was so much worse than the truck.

Because now, you were asleep. Unconscious. And your body was doing things that you weren’t even aware of, things that made him ache in ways he didn’t know how to deal with. His skin burned, his breath turned shallow, and goddammit, he was getting hard. Again.

Daryl felt like the worst person alive.

This wasn’t supposed to happen—he wasn’t supposed to react to you like this, not when you weren’t even aware of it. But every little shift, every unconscious roll of your hips, every soft breath against his neck was making him suffer.

By the time you finally started to wake up, Daryl was already gone—face burning, heart racing, his body so tense it felt like a live wire. He didn’t even realize how hard he was gripping you until you let out a small noise, your fingers flexing against his shirt as your lashes fluttered.

As you stirred, instinctively clinging to him, your arms beginning to wrap around his middle for better support, your body pressed closer. He felt your hips shifting just enough to grind against him, forcing another sharp twitch beneath his jeans.

Daryl went rigid.

Your body tensed against him as awareness settled in, your breath catching for just a second. Daryl knew the exact moment you realized where you were—what you were sitting on—because you stiffened, fingers gripping at his shirt, but you didn’t pull away.

If anything, you leaned in. His entire body locked up, his grip on the handlebar going white-knuckled as the warmth of your breath brushed against his neck. The hum of the bike beneath him did nothing to drown out the pounding in his ears, the way heat licked up his neck as your lips barely skimmed the sensitive skin on his throat. He felt you move against his lap too, a gentle rocking of your hips against him. His stomach flipped, his fingers twitched, and for a split second, he froze, completely unsure of what to do, how to stop this without making it worse.

“Stop,” he muttered, voice rough, barely above a breath.

You didn’t.

The vibration of the bike only made it worse. He was so goddamn tense, his entire body fighting against the instinct to react. He was barely breathing, just trying to focus on the road, but it was impossible with your mouth teasing at his skin, the warmth of your body curled into him, the weight of you pressing down in a way that was too much.

It was all he could do to hold you still against him.

"Stop," he said again, but this time it was louder, less like an order and more like a plea.

Your lips lingered for a second longer before you finally pulled away.

Daryl exhaled shakily, heart hammering, body strung tight, but he still didn’t push you off, didn’t pull his bike over to switch places and get you off of him. He just sat there, stiff and locked up, trying not to let his hand shake where it pressed into your back.

But then when you pulled away, finally listening to his pleas and he looked down at you for a moment, he saw the flicker in your expression—the way your gaze dropped, the way your lips pressed together, the way your hands loosened their hold on him like you suddenly weren’t sure you should be touching him at all.

His chest ached instantly, sharp and unexpected. That wasn’t what this was. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you—it was that he did. So badly it scared the hell out of him. But the way it had happened, the way he had put you in this situation. You hadn’t been fully aware, hadn’t made the choice, and the last thing he wanted was to take advantage of something your body did before your mind had caught up. And the way you hesitated now, the way you pulled back, made something in him panic.

"Sorry," you murmured, voice softer now, any sense of teasing completely washed away.

Daryl swallowed hard, but his throat felt tight, his jaw locked up so bad he thought it might snap. He wanted to say something, to explain, to tell you that this wasn’t about not wanting you.

But he couldn’t.

All he could do was keep his grip firm on the handlebar, eyes locked on the road ahead, his arm still braced against your back as he forced himself to focus on anything but the way his body ached for you to come back.

Now…the third time it happened…you couldn’t say it was all that innocent.

The Alexandria watchtower stood separate from the rest of the town, white and quiet, a lone structure overlooking the entrance. It was meant to be a defense point, a place for vigilance, for keeping the people inside safe.

Right now, it felt like a goddamn confession booth.

You sat on the window ledge taking first watch with your arms draped over your knees, the darkened treetops sway in the night breeze, pretending not to notice how tense Daryl was inside behind you up against the opposite wall. You had been up there for nearly an hour now, and he had barely said a word outside of the occasional grunt, playing with an arrow in his hands like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

You knew why.

You had been avoiding each other even worse since the bike incident—both of you too flustered, too unsure of what the hell to do with yourselves. But it wasn’t sustainable, not in a place like this, where the community was small and jobs were assigned. The universe—or more likely, Rick—had decided it was time for you to deal with it.

So here you were.

You sighed loudly, twisting around to face him.

"I'm sorry," you said, tilting your head back against the window frame, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

Daryl stilled across the small room, the moonlight catching in his hair, but his features remained shadowed, obscured in the dim glow of the lantern that sat on the floor nearby.

“Fer what?” he finally asked, twiddling the arrow between his fingers, rolling it absentmindedly.

“For everything,” you said, a humorless laugh making your shoulder shake.

His eyes finally flickered up to you, uncertain, but it was enough for you to want to keep explaining yourself. You felt stupid, so so stupid.

“I mean it,” you said, hands pushing against your cheeks, trying to scrub the redness already creeping up your skin, “It won’t happen again. Even if we get stuck in a crowded truck together, even if I faint from another god damn spider attack. I swear to you, Daryl, I will stay far away from touching you,” you glanced at him, and trying to ease the tension, you added: “Next time I’ll just sit in Rick’s lap,”

Daryl’s eyes flickered away for a long moment, something ghosting through them that he was clearly trying to push down. His gaze shifted toward the corner of the room, where nothing but overturned boxes and dust sat in the dark, like he could find the right words buried somewhere in the silence.

You let out a slow breath, thinking that was it, that he’d let the conversation die the way he always did. But then, suddenly, he spoke up.

“Don’t.”

Your brows furrowed. “Don’t what?”

His jaw tensed, fingers flexing as he set down the arrow, “Don’t sit on nobody’s lap.”

The words came out gruff, like he hadn’t meant to say them, and the way he turned his head slightly, like he was bracing himself for your reaction, made something in your chest tighten.

Silence settled between you again, heavier this time. The only sound was the wind rustling through the leaves below, the distant hum of Alexandria behind the walls until he spoke again.

“…I liked it.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Daryl shifted, uneasy, fingers finding his mouth, chewing weakly on the skin of his forefinger like he was regretting opening his mouth. “When you… did that,” he mumbled, gaze flickering toward you before dropping again. “I liked it.”

Your stomach flipped. You studied him, the way his shoulders curled inward slightly, the nervous twitch of his fingers, the pink creeping up his neck. He was avoiding your gaze, embarrassed, like he expected you to laugh, to brush it off, to tell him he was imagining things.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you pushed off the ledge, moving slowly, deliberately, making your way over to him. When you knelt down in front of him, his breath hitched, his fingers clenching, his entire body going still.

You reached out, fingers brushing over his jacket, trailing up toward his shoulder. His breath shuddered, his muscles tightening beneath your touch.

“You liked it?” you murmured.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yeah.”

You bit your lip, tilting your head. “Which part?”

Daryl’s eyes darted to yours, filled with something uncertain, something hesitant. “What do ya mean?”

“Tell me,” you said, voice softer now, a little breathless. “Which part you liked.”

He didn’t answer right away. His skin was growing pink even in the dim light of the tower, the tips of his ears burning as his fingers twitched against the floor He was looking everywhere but at you, like he was trying to will himself out of this conversation.

You took that moment to shift forward, climbing into his lap without hesitation. His breath stopped, his body going rigid beneath you, hands jerking up before he forced them back down like he didn’t know where to put them.

Your thighs bracketed his hips, your hands settling on his shoulders, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin.

“Did you like when I sat on your lap in the truck?”

Daryl felt like he wasn’t even breathing beneath you, his hands splayed beside him, fingers curling against the wooden floor as if itching to touch you. His eyes finally caught your gaze and stayed there, flickering between hesitation and something deeper, something you knew he was fighting against.

His voice was barely a murmur, thick and hoarse when he answered.

“…Yeah.”

A slow smile curled at the edge of your lips, and you leaned in, close enough for your nose to brush against his.

“What about the bike?” you whispered.

Daryl swallowed so hard you heard it. His hands finally moved, gripping your thighs where they rested against his, unsure but there, fingers flexing as if he was testing his own restraint.

“…Yeah.”

You could feel the heat of his breath against your mouth, the tension so thick it was dizzying. His body was wound so tight, his grip tightening slightly on your thighs, his entire frame burning beneath you.

“Daryl,” you breathed.

His fingers dug in slightly. His eyelids were heavy, his mouth parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t force the words out.

Then his blue eyed gaze dropped to your lips.

Something in your chest tightened, anticipation coiling low in your stomach as you leaned in, testing, waiting to see if he’d stop you again, if he’d push you away like before, tell you no in that reluctant way that left you aching even worse than before.

But this time, he didn’t.

This time, your lips brushed against his and he sucked in a sharp breath, his hands flexing hard against your thighs, fingers gripping like he was trying to ground himself. Then his lips molded to yours, hesitant at first, like he was still trying to figure this all out.

But the moment you let out a small, contented sigh against his mouth, he made up his mind.

Daryl grabbed at you, rough palms sliding from your thighs up to your hips, and pulled you into him in one desperate, instinctive movement. You gasped softly, fingers tangling into his hair as your body pressed flush against his, the warmth of him searing through the fabric between you.

The pure thickness of him beneath you, solid muscle and broad strength, sent heat rushing through your veins, and then—fuck.

You felt him. Hard, heavy, and pulsing between your legs.

Another shaky whimper slipped from your throat, muffled against his lips, and Daryl groaned at the sound. It was deep, wrecked, vibrating through his chest like he was a man starved of this for far too long. When his mouth parted, panting from the overwhelming friction, you seized the moment, sliding your tongue past his lips to meet his. The taste of cigarettes and something undeniably him flooded your senses, warm and intoxicating, making your head spin.

The friction. The push, the pull, the way his body fit against yours—it was maddening. You rocked again, just enough to feel the way he twitched beneath you, just enough to make his hands clench as they reached back to grip your ass, his hips jerking up in response. The sharp, choked noise he let out sent heat flashing down your spine, turning your thoughts into nothing but molten, aching need.

You ground down on him harder, the steady roll of your hips chasing that friction, the ache building between your legs as his hands dug into your denim clad flesh, guiding you into him like he couldn’t help himself. The obscene noises of lips and tongues and heavy, desperate breathing filled the still night air, drowned only by the distant rustling of leaves outside the tower.

Daryl was unraveling beneath you.

His lips only parted from yours to move hungrily against your neck, dragging over heated skin, sucking at the sensitive flesh beneath your jaw. Every press of his mouth sent shivers racing through you, made your fingers clench tighter in his hair as your hips rolled against the hard length straining beneath his jeans.

The brush of his scruff against your throat had you moaning, a sound that made his hands twitch where they held you, gripping tighter, pulling you down against him like he was chasing it.

You weren’t even thinking anymore.

Not about Alexandria, not about the watchtower, not about anything except how good he felt, how his hardness was aching perfectly beneath you, rubbing just right against the throbbing need building at your core.

Daryl sucked in a ragged breath, dragging his mouth back up to yours, capturing your lips again like he was ravenous for it. His tongue met yours in a messy, desperate tangle, his hands flexing against your hips as he rocked you down into him, his groans spilling into your mouth, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.

You could feel it. The way his muscles were wound tight, his hips bucking beneath yours, his breathing turning ragged, uneven. He was so close. He was overwhelmed, so overstimulated, so completely lost in the way you were moving against him that he didn’t even realize he was chasing it, rutting up against you like he needed it.

And then you rolled your hips again, slower this time, more deliberate, grinding down just right, and Daryl broke.

His whole body seized beneath you, hands clenching at your ass as his hips stuttered up into yours, a wrecked, choked noise tearing from his throat as he came apart. His muscles locked up, every part of him going rigid as the pleasure overtook him.

You pulled back just enough to watch his beautiful face scrunched up, long, greasy hair pushed back just enough for you to see everything—the deep crease in his brow, the way his mouth fell open on a desperate, shuddering groan, the sheer helplessness of it as he twitched beneath you, his release spilling warm under his jeans. His grip on you was bruising, fingers digging in so tight you knew you’d be wearing the marks of him tomorrow.

His chest heaved beneath your palms as you released his long locks from your hands, his whole body shuddering through the aftershocks as reality slowly returned to him. When his eyes finally blinked open, dazed and so beautifully wide, his sweat-slick face somehow managed to flush even redder.

“I—I’m sorry—”

You didn’t let him finish.

Your finger pressed against his lips, silencing him as you tilted your head, watching him freeze beneath you again, all flustered and wrecked, like he was seconds away from bolting if you let him. His wide, desperate blue eyes stayed locked on yours, waiting for something, bracing for the worst.

But you just grinned.

“Don’t—” you began, voice full of warmth and maybe a little teasing, “Don’t ruin the single hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my entire existence.”

Daryl didn’t find it amusing. If anything, he went even redder under your gaze, his entire body tensing as he turned his head away, looking anywhere but at you. Like if he avoided your eyes long enough, maybe the last few minutes would magically undo themselves.

“Hey,” you murmured, reaching out to grip his chin, forcing him to look at you. His skin was burning under your touch, his breath shallow, his pupils still blown from what had just happened. “I’m not done with you yet,”

Daryl swallowed hard, his jaw shifting under your fingers. “But I—”

“You just got to have your fun,” you cut him off, voice dipping lower, slower, as you leaned in, letting your mouth brush against the outline of his lips, “What about me?” You rolled your hips against his lap, slow and teasing, making him shudder beneath you. “Gonna leave me hangin’, Dixon?”

Daryl’s hands slid up, moving with more intent, his palms splaying over your ribs, fingers flexing just beneath your breasts. He wasn’t just reacting anymore—he was choosing this. He looked up at you, eyes dark, lips parted, voice just barely above a whisper.

“I wanna…” He hesitated, his brows furrowing like he was trying to find the words, trying to ask for something without knowing how. But then, his hands moved to your back, gripping you firmer, like he was realizing what he wanted even as he said it.

“I wanna make you feel good.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Daryl swallowed, his thumbs skimming over the soft skin beneath your shirt, his gaze locked onto yours, searching. “Tell me how,” he murmured, his voice raw, thick with something desperate. “Show me what you like.”

Something hot and deep coiled in your stomach at the way he said it—so eager, so earnest, his hands shaking slightly like he was aching to touch you but needed you to let him.

“You sure?” you murmured, voice barely more than a breath.

His grip tightened. “Yeah.”

You smiled, slow and wicked, leaning down to kiss him—soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. His breath hitched, and when you rolled your hips again, this time he wasn’t just taking it.

This time, he was meeting you halfway.

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twdfemmefetal · 4 months ago

Text

Crush

Summary: Wait, who has a crush on you? A confession from Maggie makes you second guess every interaction you’ve had with a certain man.

Era: Quarry, Prison

Warnings: MDNI, Fluff, Angst, Violence, Swearing, physical altercation, reader gets hurt, strangulation.

You couldn’t tell if you heard her right as you stared blankly at Maggie’s mouth moving. “What?” You asked again, as if you couldn’t process what she had just told you.

“Daryl said he likes you.” She let out with a chuckle as she looked away from you and out into the distance of the guard tower. You swallowed hard feeling your mouth suddenly run dry, trying to slow your breathing. You didn’t know what to say, you were completely thrown off with this confession.

“How do you know? Who told you?” Maggie softly gazed at you from over her shoulder, amused at your now eager tone, “Daryl told Rick, Rick told Glenn, Glenn told me.” Your hands clammed up and you felt a bit uneasy knowing Daryl’s secret was now spreading around unbeknownst to him. You had always thought Daryl was cute, attractive, handsome-honestly you really liked him, but you knew the odds of it working out were slim, especially because of the way he acted around you.

Every moment you had with him seemed to be nothing but annoying to the archer, when you would ask him questions, try to get to know him. You didn’t think Daryl had any feelings at all towards people. He was cold, distant, but hearing the sudden confession made your heart swoon and pound into your ribcage. You tried to recall every single interaction you had with him, when you could have possibly missed the signs?

⭒

You couldn't help but shiver at the night breeze, mentally cursing yourself for giving Lori your only blanket before night time. She was pregnant-you would practically be signing yourself to damnation if you didn't do something to stop her whines and shivers due to how chilly the weather was getting, especially during nightfall.

But now, you were slowly regretting the decision and would have been fine now that you think about it, going to hell. Bet it would be nice and warm there.

"Ya cold?" Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar southern drawl as you turned around and saw Daryl, leaned up against a tree, watching you. How long had he been there? With a raised eyebrow at his sudden shift of attention to you, you responded.

"No." liar.

"er', looks like ya need it more than me." Daryl grumbled softly and handed you his signature red flannel.

You muttered a quick thanks and took it, grateful for his hunter like observation skills.

As the night went on, the flannel wasn't enough, you were freezing as the temperature dropped significantly in the last few hours. Daryl eventually sighed as he got up from his seating position by the tree and started walking over to you softly.

"git' up," you looked at him with an arched brow and a puzzled expression while you got up from the ground. Daryl slumped down onto the spot and placed his back on the rock you had been leaning on.

"come er'" he grunted as he signaled for you to sit in between his legs. You couldn’t help but blush slightly as did he. Daryl’s ears were practically hot to the touch, never in his life did he think he would be doing this for anyone let alone you.

"Daryl I-"

"m' tired of hearin' yer teeth chatterin', come er' woman."His tone was laced in annoyance, instantly shutting you up. You softly positoned yourself in between his legs, feeling Daryl tense up but quickly relaxing after hearing you sigh in content after he wrapped his arms around you-- along with the big blanket he had been hoarding all to himself...bastard

⭒

The only good thing about being camped by a quarry, was having the opportunity to sun bathe and swim anytime you wanted. You knew it was the end of the world and the last thing you should probably think about was going for a swim, in a walker infested forest but you really needed some sense of normality in the world, so as part of a routine to keep some form of sanity in your life, you made it a habit of being able to sun bathe and take a quick dip in the quarry whenever you had any free time in the day.

After slipping into a black two piece swimsuit, you slowly made your way into the secluded part of the quarry that you always swam in, not wanting anyone to disturb your peace and wanting some more privacy from the others in the group, especially after you found shane watching you from his spot on top of the R.V. 'supposedly' keeping watch.

"Damn girl! wanna get out of there and put on a show for yer' ol' pal Merle?" You heard the familiar southern drawl of the older Dixon who managed to catcall you and every other woman in the group any chance he got.

While rolling your eyes, you turned around in the water and moved your hair to the left side of your body slowly ringing it out of excess water.

"Fuck you Dixon."

"girl's got a mouth on her huh' lil brotha, I bet I can shut her up real good if I shove-" Merle was cut off by the younger Dixon, before he could finish his disgusting rebuttle.

"Shut up Merle, les' go." You couldnt help but give the younger Dixon a soft smile as he gazed upon you once more before turning around, crossbow slung over his shoulder, and making sure the older one followed.

"Ill be back for your sweet ass later darlin'" You flipped off the older Dixon and popped your head back into the cool water once more.

To your suprise, just a few minutes later, you heard someone apporaching the Quarry once more and you fully expected it to be Merle until you looked up and saw Daryl.

"Hey Daryl." Your cheerful tone, and welcoming smile made him ease into your prescence. Daryl was used to always being on edge and ready to enter fight or flight mode with everyone else but you, he could practically feel all his tension dissipate from his body, once he knew you were close.

"shouldn' be er' alone ya know?" Daryl’s tone was laced with concern as he watched you swim through his harden gaze. You smirked and quirked your eyebrow at him.

"Aww Daryl, you don't need to be worried about me." You pouted at him playfully, while batting your long eyelashes. Daryl couldn't help but feel his lips tug into a smirk as he shook his head.

"Sun's settin'... ya should get out soon before ya end up bein' walker meat." You could see his face flash with concern as he looked up at the sky and around cautiously for any sort of threat. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how overbearing he was being and splashed him with some water, catching him completely off guard.

"Nope, Im good."

Daryl squinted his eyes, not feeling in the mood to play anymore, especially when he was concerned about your safety.

"M'serious girl, ain't gonna help ya later when yer ass gets attacked by the livin' dead."

"Why dont you come in here and make me."

And with that Daryl groaned waiting to call your bluff,

“Fine, ain’t my fault if ya end up bein’ dinner for em.” Daryl turned on his heels, expecting you to get out but he turned around once more and saw you swim further into the quarry and away from the shore.

Daryl groaned to himself in annoyance and started with his boots. You were the only woman he would do this for, only woman he would chase.

So when you heard the light splash of water and ripples coming from Daryl who was now fully immersed in the water and coming after you, you smirked to yourself and playfully splashed as much water towards him as you could until he was now wrapping his arms around you, pulling you towards the shore. You were now in a full belly laugh as you saw his long wet hair covering his face, but what really caught your attention was the flash of his toothy grin, and a small twinkle in his blue eyes behind the curtain of wavy brown locks.

⭒

Okay, maybe you had just been completley clueless at all the other times he had offered you some of his own dinner, water, and clothes to keep you warm, fed, and safe.

God how could you not have noticed? You couldnt help but chuckle at the thought of how clueless you had been. Daryl had never been like that with anyone else, and for that you were slightly glad about, you couldn't imagine how possesive you would have gotten if he acted kindly to every other woman in the group.

After your shift was up, and sunrise was now making the clouds cascade with red and orange hues, you felt a sudden feeling of mixed anxiety and nervousness. How should you act now that you know his secret? What do you do about it? Your mind had now been full of so many questions and thoughts that needed answers, so your feet naturally dragged you towards the only person who could give you answers. You headed toward the ward office that daryl had been occupying as his room.

You wiped your sweaty palms on your jean shorts as you raised your trembling fist preparing to softly knock on the door.

You heard some shuffling and movement along with a "com' in,” , allowing you entry. Even the sound of his grumbles made you weak to your knees.

You slowly but hesitantly twisted the door knob as you timidly made your way in the office room. Daryls eyes widen seeing you emerge from behind the doorway. He quickly got up from his laying position on the cot he was sleeping on and looked up at you more awake then ever.

"Morning Daryl, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something that's been on my mind?" Daryl swallowed hard at your timidness, never seeing you act like this before, you were confident, and energetic, this was a whole other demenour you've never carried, so he was worried.

"was' wrong?" Daryl tensed up, ready to kill someone for you if he had to.

"nothing's wrong daryl, opposite to that actually.." you couldn't help but giggle at his tone that was laced with concern over nothing.

"Do you like me?" You asked rather bluntly, catching him off guard. Daryl blinked at you with no words, not knowing how to react.

"what? nah." Tensing up and letting out a dry cough "who told ya that?" he chuckled lightheartedly, hoping to ease the tension in the room.

Your heart softly sank at how he quickly brushed it off. "Oh, no one in particular.." You shifted on another foot now feeling beyond humiliated. "alright, that answers my questions.... Im sorry to bother you, I hope I didnt make you uncomfortable." You couldn't help but stammer out, now assuming your face was probably fully flushed red.

"I's alrigh', ya didn' make me feel any sorta way.. don' lose sleep over it." Your lips formed into a thin line as you softly nodded to him.

"okay then, see you around." and with that you turned to your heels, making sure to close the door softly behind you.

Daryl sighed in dissapointment, as he laid his head back on the bed. Regretting not having the balls to admit his true feelings to you.

⭒

A few days had passed since the confrotation you had with Daryl, he avoided you like the plague. You were beyond humiliated by the whole ordeal but tried not to let it affect you. It was harder said than done, every corner you turned, as soon as Daryl's gaze connected to yours, he made sure to walk the other way, or use any excuse he had to make sure not to be in the same room as you.

Rick has asked you to go on a run with Daryl but to your suprise, Glenn was the one that showed up in his place. Your heart sank, feeling awful for how uncomfortable you might have made him feel to the point that he was willingly avoiding you any chance he had.

"Did daryl not want to come with me?" You softly asked Glenn as he looked at you through in between the shelves. His gaze turned pitiful, as he avoided eyes. "He didn't say that.. Just said he was busy." You nodded and continued with the task at hand, knowing any sort of distractions could be life or death at this point.

As you scavanged more shelves your eyes caught sight of movement just behind the register counter, you quickly drew your gun in an attempt to get the person to surrender. "Hey, come out with your arms above your head!" Glenn was quick to reach your side as he held his own gun up as your backup. You motioned your head to behind the counter and Glenn nodded, understanding that the person might be dangerous and armed, who was crouched behind it.

"Youre cornered asshole." Glenn said coming around the corner of the counter, gun raised. The quick movement alarmed the person, who quickly jumped up and tried to get the gun from Glenn.

You ran over only to be elbowed hard in the stomach from their rough tassle. "what the fuck." You were winded but the adrenaline was kicking in, and you weren't gonna sit down to catch your breath, not when Glenn was in danger.

You quickly tried to tackle the guy by putting your own gun around his neck, using it to try to suffocate him, this action only angered him as he swung his arms back, leaving a pretty shinner on your cheekbone. He took advantage of the opportunity of distraction and quickly pulled you to the ground by your shirt collar and wrapping his rough hands around your neck, choking you.

You felt tears and a burning sensation in your lungs as your vision soon clouded, almost instantly feeling the lack of oxygen get to your head. You tried to pull him off but failed miserably, before he could do more damage, you heard the bang of a gun go off followed with a splater of blood on your face. Causing the man to fall limp ontop of you.

With whatever strength you had, you managed to throw the man off of you and gasp for air, finally being able to see clearly now. "Holy shit, are you okay?" Glenn came around and helped you up, you nodded and flashed him a small smile. "Thank you, I've been better, now lets get the fuck out of here before walkers show up."

⭒

The drive back to the prison was miserable, you pulled the passenger sun visor mirror down and looked over your now bruised neck and cheekbone. Your neck looked worse than your face, seems the blow to your cheek wasnt as bad as the stranglation but, that was the closest call you’ve had to death, and you were shocked it wasn't a walker that almost took you down.

This is gonna be fun to explain

As the gates of the prison opened up and Rick and Carl were the first to approach you both, Ricks eyes flashed with concern when he saw your now purple finger markings around your neck and bruised up cheekbone. "We ran into a guy who went batshit on us but we took care of the problem." Rick's eyes softened as he looked you over, "Im good, dont worry about it." You flashed him your signature bright smile through the pain and helped unload the car of supplies.

As you were about to pick up a duffle bag, Rick intercepted,

"Ive got it, you deserve a few days off after that." Rick signaled to your neck, "Should get that checked out by hershel just in case." With a quick nod, you headed toward the prison cell block and straight to Hershel’s cell.

"So how bad is it?" you softly winced, as Hershel carefully examined your now tender neck.

"there will be swelling and bruising for a while, you might get a bit of a sore throat— seems he really got a hold on ya. Cheekbone is fine, might bruise up as well. Just take it easy on the talkin' and make sure to stay hydrated." You nodded and thanked him, softly getting up from the cot and making your way out of the cell.

Slowly walking up the stairs to your own cell, your eyes connected with Daryl's who seemed to already be fixated on you as he was on his way down from his guard room. You quickly avoided his lingering gaze and headed into your cell to relax.

Just as you were about to relax you heard a grunt at your door. You didn't have to really guess who it was, Daryl's presence was pretty much indistinguishable from others. "Come in." You said hoarsly, as the effects of the choking were now more prominent than ever.

"Heard what happen’d ,ya okay?" Daryl’s eyes flashed with concern as he quickly looked down at the marks around your neck. He inched a bit closer to you and softly brushed his knuckles to your cheek, so tenderly, as if he was afraid to hurt you. You couldn't help but instantly relax in his touch.

“I shoulda’ been there.” Daryl said just barley above a whisper.

“Im okay Daryl, plus it’s not your fault.” You couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at him blaming himself.

"You weren't even there." You chuckled once more and slowly pulled away from his touch.

Daryl looked back at you, eyes a bit watery, as if he was going to cry catching you by suprise.

"Yeah, I wasn't even there. I should'a been." He ran a hand over his face tiredly and leaned up against the wall. "Told Glenn to cover meh', didn't know how to talk to ya after the other day."

Your ears perked up, your face flushed a bit remembering the humilitating moment of trying to ask him if he liked you. "Im sorry Daryl, I seriously didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-" You couldn't finish your sentence when you felt Daryl's soft lips smash onto yours with haste.

The kiss was tender, soft and sweet. You instantly melted into his touch as you felt his rough calloused hands on your hips, pulling you closer to his embrace.

After what felt like a heavenly few minutes of passionate kissing, Daryl pulled away, gasping for air as he leaned his forehead against your own. "I love ya, was too damn scared to tell ya before but I know what I want now. I want you, and I aint losin' ya." Your lip curled up into a smirk and you leaned back in once more to capture him in a chaste kiss, eager for his lips.

“I knew it! Bastard you made me think otherwise.” Daryl chuckled while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, that managed to fall over your face.

“Seriously now who told ya I like ya?”

“Not telling you a damn thing.”

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

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twdfemmefetal · 5 months ago

Text

Yup, s’all mine

Summary: Shane, tries to make a move on reader when Lori takes Rick back, only to find out she’s already taken…by Daryl.

Era: Quarry

Warning: MDNI, Age Gap between Daryl(40) and Reader(mid 20s), possessiveness, swearing, suggestive content.

Shane couldn’t fathom the idea of Lori and Carl being reunited with Rick. He sneered at the thought of his name itself. Walking around the quarry to try to keep his head clear of the invasive thoughts of hurting rick, his mind suddenly drifted to the beauty just a few feet ahead of him.

Shane was so wrapped up in his whole affair with Lori that he had never taken the time to actually get to acknowledge you. Shane bit his lip watching you from behind one of the trees of the Georgian forest.

You were writing in a pink journal, with a pink pen, that had a silly little fluffy ball on top, which waved around every time the ink hit the paper.

He bit his lip, seeing your legs crossed over each other, exposed to the bright sun, in your short little denim skirt, which seems to compliment your curves and round ass perfectly.

He felt his pants tighten slightly when he looked over your pronounced breasts in the small white tube top that wrapped around them securely. He thanked god for the cool Georgian breeze making your nipples hard. His mouth practically watered, imaging how they would feel in between his teeth as he sucked on them.

Shane hasn’t realized how much he really started to admire you. His heart slowly increasing, as he observed more of your features. The way your wavy long hair flowed in the breeze, your glittery glossy lips puckering or forming into the shape of a thin line as you thought of what to write next. He couldn’t get enough of your beauty.

“Tha fuck ya’ think yer’ doin’ er’ Shane?!” The sound of a familiar southern drawl interrupted Shane lewd thoughts as he stalked you from afar. Shane furrowed his brows in slight anger as he was interrupted from being able to admire you.

“Honestly Daryl, it’s none of your business.” Shane then proceeded to try to walk past Daryl, but he stopped him by putting his hand on his shoulder roughly and looking at Shane, with dark eyes full of anger. “Don’ bother with er’ she’s mine.” Shane scoffed defensively and shaked Daryl’s hand off his shoulder. “Fuck off redneck, I can do what I want.” And with a sinister smirk, Shane walked back to the camp. Now feeling ever more fueled to per-sue you. What one thing Shane loved most than messing with a marriage, is chasing after someone like if was a game.

Daryl felt uneasy, at the sinister look that Shane carried in his eyes the whole time he was watching you, trying to stay hidden in the treelines.

He couldn’t help but feel so angry not even being able to think of what sinister thoughts Shane most likely was thinking as he watched you.

After the short heated exchange between the two Daryl quickly walked down the small hill and past the tree line to reach you.

Your head quickly snapped at the sound of someone’s steps emerging from beside you, causing you to quickly get up from the rock you were sitting on and pull out your hunting knife that Daryl had bought for you.

Your heart thumped when you saw the archer-your archer emerging from the tree line. The look of his stoic expressionless face causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion at what he could possibly be bumming him out.

Daryl quickly wrapped an arm around your waist, roughly pulling you closer to his chest, “what’s wrong Daryl?” You asked while softly putting your arms around his neck.

He ignored your question while his lips roughly latched onto your neck, attacking every inch of skin you had exposed, roughly sucking and bitting on it, purposely leaving sloppy hot wet kisses and hickeys on you. You threw your head back when you felt one of his hands roughly grope your ass, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

You had no idea what had gotten in to him, being used to Daryl only being able to touch and kiss you in the privacy of your tent. He wasn’t big on PDA, or showing anyone you guys were even a couple so him being this greedy with you in a big open space by the quarry left you a bit puzzled.

“S’all Mine… all fuckin’ mine.” Daryl groaned out as he softly lifted you up and layed you down on the rock you were sitting on as his lips left a trail of his sloppy kisses from your neck down to your chest, and onto your exposed stomach.

You squirmed slightly feeling more aroused at his roughness, and how eager he seemed to want to claim you.

“Daryl, fuck….” You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of his hands all over you. But you had a feeling something was up with him, and as much as you were enjoying his affection for you, you had to ask him once more.

“Daryl baby, stop.” You managed to let out with a strangled moan, to your surprise Daryl growled and quickly got up from his position on top of you, his gaze on you darkened in annoyance as you fixed your top that managed to slip a bit, almost revealing your nipples to the world. You pulled down your skirt and flattened your hair as you now stood up in front of him.

He was glaring at you, and had crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively, waiting for you to speak.

“Daryl what’s wrong?” You asked softly placing a hand on his cheek. He scoffed and quickly backed away from your touch, slightly causing you to feel a slight sting to your heart- you didn't take it personal, knowing how he used this as a defense mechanism.

“I want ya to stay away from Shane alrigh’? He’s fuckin’ weird, don’ want him around ya.” He anxiously bit the inside of his cheek and wrapped his arms across his chest, clearly uncomfortable with what he was saying. He was ready for any sort of outburst or reservations you would have against his warning against shane. Everyone in the camp idolized him like a good, but Daryl couldn't stand him and was the only one to see right through his facade. But to his shock you smiled softly at him and agreed with him.

“Okay Daryl. I’ll stay clear of him, can I ask why though?” Daryl bit his lip as he watched over your expressions.

“Since Lori is fuckin her husband again, I think that prick is desperate for some other kind of attention.”

You nodded, understanding his tension and why he was so hesitant to speak to you about the subject. Your lips curls up at how overprotective he had gotten with you, “s’my good girl.” Daryl said softly as he rubbed his knuckles on the side of your face, causing you to lean into his tender touch.

Later that day, Daryl has gone hunting, we were running low on meat for dinner. He was hesitant on leaving you alone, especially with Shane being around but had to get the job done. He offered to take you with him but you refused, you didn’t really have anything that was ‘hunting’ appropriate, which made you mentally remember to pick up better clothes for the future, you had to get out of the habit of your old lifestyle and cursing yourself for not bringing any appopriate survival clothes once you left the city. The world has changed and is all about pure survival now, not a fashion show.

As you sat in front of Daryl’s tent reading a book on a log, you heard footsteps approaching you. Not caring to look up, assuming the person was just walking by, you’re eyes widen when the person was toe to toe with you. Your eyes slowly trailed up to the figure and saw Shane staring back at you, his eyes full of lust as you looked through his darken gaze.

“Can I help you?” You asked rather rudely, catching him off guard. Causing him to scoff and give you an amusing smirk.

“What are you doing over here?” His eyes narrowed at you, “reading a book? What’s it look like?”

He rolled his eyes slightly, his lips turning up into a curl.

“Nah girl, what’s a pretty girl like you doing around Daryl Dixon? Ya know he’s not safe to be around.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment, seriously? Daryl wasn't safe to be around was he joking?

“Honestly, I dont think its any of your buisness.” After your curt response he crouched down to you until he was eye level with you. His nostrils flared as he snatched your book out of your hands.

“Shane!” You yelled out trying to grab the book from behind him. Shane maliciously then held it above his head, making you get on your tippy toes to try to snatch it back. He smirked at your failed attempts and quickly wrapped an arm around you, puling you close to him.

"What the fuck? Get off of me!" You tried your hardest to get out of his grasp but failed miserably in his strong grip.

"He's trailer park white trash darlin', wasting your time being with someone like that." You couldn't believe what he was saying and at this point, you were over him.

You raised your hand and slapped him as hard as you could, leaving a print of your handprints and nails on his cheek. He ragefully let you go with a shove, then causing you to back up as far as you could from him.

"y/n?" you turned at the voice, knowing it was your man. "Daryl." You replied softly and hurried up to his side, Daryl quickly checked you over for any sort of injuries, his features then softened when he saw the look of fear in your face. Becoming enraged, Daryl quickly flashed Shane a harden glare causing fear to emerge in his eyes as he quickly looked away and hurried out of the secluded area.

"Fucker wouldn't leave me alone, I hope that slap showed him who he's messing with." You were fuming, beyond angered at how Shane was trying to get into your pants.

"I'll kill em'"Daryl threatened with a low growl but you softly placed a hand on his bicep, stopping him from doing anything irrational. He tensed up, jaw clenched still trying to fight his urges not to go after him.

"Im all yours, he just can't seem to get the hint, maybe we should show him how serious we are huh?" You smirked thinking of a wonderful idea to get it through his thick head.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻

"Fuck! Daryl! Keep going...Dont stop baby." You moaned out loud from a part of the woods that you both knew he would be around.

Daryl kept thrusting into you from behind as he bent you over a rock.

You heard a twig snap, knowing it was Shane who was trying to see what the noise was about.

His eyes widen when he got a glimpse of Daryl, pants pooled to his ankles, and you on your tippy toes-bent over a rock as he was fucking you from behind. You were screaming Daryl's name and moaning as he fucked you mercilessly.

Shane quickly averted his eyes and looked away, feeling embarrased beyond belief. Now knowing to steer clear from you.

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

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twdfemmefetal · 5 months ago

Text

━━━ ✧˖° 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍

‎ ‎ [ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

female reader, inclusive language. minors dni.

kinks: protective daryl, reader is extremely girly and feminine, fingering, very light dom/sub, fucking on a motorcycle, daryl sucks his fingers, pet names, oral sex, cum swallowing, slightly rough sex, some dirty talk, true love

warnings and triggers: age difference, reader is a former sex worker, trauma bonding, violence, death, slut shaming, bullying

word count: 13.4k

plot with porn, slight alternate universe.

you’re known as the princess of your group - soft, feminine, a girly girl who doesn’t want to get her hands dirty. despite the cruel new world you’re living in, you still hold on to whatever remnants of beauty you can find, hoping for a better tomorrow.

daryl is the opposite of everything you stand for. he’s hardened, rugged, ruthless - he’ll do whatever it takes to survive. despite your differences, you find yourselves drawn to each other in ways nobody, not even you two, can really understand. you bring softness to his strength, and in daryl you find a friend, a lover, a protector.

he’s everything you find warm and safe in this cold, scary world. you cling to him, and the best part?

daryl clings back.

“Cookies?”

The look Daryl gives you actually makes you crack a smile, and it’s a nice feeling. It’s been a long time since you smiled, now that you think about it - but it’s not like you’re keeping score.

Because if you were - you’d probably be able to count the amount of grins that’ve graced your face in the last eight months on one hand. Life has been brutal to everyone this year.

“I know it sounds weird,” you explain, crossing your legs on the rock you’re sitting on. Daryl’s supposed to be keeping watch of the camp while Rick and a few other men from the group make a run into the neighboring town for supplies. The plan was, because even the smallest things need well thought out plans in this world, that the women and children of the camp would rest, and if Daryl saw any walkers, he’d wake everyone up.

Sort of dumb, in theory, with how fast things happen when walkers are added to the equation, but it’s all this group has got.

Plans and Rick’s hope.

You’re supposed to be resting too, since yesterday was a travel day - long and exhausting. But you can’t sleep. You’ve got a headache, you’re hungry, and your sleeping bag is still a little damp from your water bottle, the plastic gone thin from having been dropped too many times, breaking while you drove from your last destination. Your tent is cold and you’re sharing it with a single woman who has a child, and their crying is really starting to bum you out.

So you decided to join Daryl keeping watch. He’s perched on a little ledge that overlooks the rest of the camp, able to see anything coming or going before anyone on the ground can. You’re not great with a gun, but since the world went to shit, you can handle yourself pretty well.

You want to help protect the camp and everyone in it, especially since you asked Rick to pick up another reusable water bottle for you while he was in town. The look on his face was so priceless it actually made you a little sad.

“Doesn’t just sound weird,” Daryl replies, shifting to get more comfortable on the grassy ground. There’s another rock for him to sit on, but it’s something you’ve noticed about him - Daryl always chooses to sit close to the ground, even if there’s a proper place for him to sit. “It is weird,” he grumbles the last part, busying himself with chucking a rock a few feet away while a squirrel scampers up a tree. He curses under his breath, no doubt pissed at himself for not securing another meal.

You’re distracting him. You should feel bad, but you don’t.

Before walkers and the end of the world as you knew it, you used to be so concerned with manners. Worried about what others thought about you more than you worried about your own well being. You’re not like that anymore. It’s a dark, although funny thought - that it took something as drastic as an apocalypse to finally rid you of your people pleasing habit.

There’s a crunching sound a few yards away that has the both of you tensing up, frozen while you listen for the sound of growling, but it never comes. Daryl visibly relaxes after a minute, which is your cue to start talking again. He just listens, although from the angle you’re sitting at, you swear you see him roll his eyes.

“You ever think about how weird it is, the stuff we miss?” You ask, but you already know he’s not going to reply. Daryl rarely replies, but you know he’s listening. You don’t have any real proof that he is - but what else would he be doing while you chat his ear off? He can stand up for himself, doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do - if he didn’t want you talking to him, he’d tell you to fuck off.

It’s a small victory you hold close to your heart - the fact that he just puts up with you. You continue. “I mean, everyone always says they miss things like hot showers, electricity, or whatever. I do, but I guess it’s not the thing I miss the most. For me, it’s cookies. But not bakery cookies. The kind of cookies you get from the store, the cheap ones. When you flatten the cookie dough yourself, and no matter what, always burn them or undercook them,” as you talk about it, you can taste the ghost of cookies past on your tongue. It waters a little, your mouth, which goes to show you just how hungry you are.

All you eat these days are protein bars and uncooked cans of whatever food the group can find. Sometimes, with your eyes closed and your breath held, you’ll try bits of squirrel or owl or whatever other animal Daryl hunts and shares with the group, but even the thought makes you nauseated. You never knew you’d be able to have preferences when the other choice is starving to death, but the difficult human spirit prevails, you suppose.

Daryl glances at you, and although it’s pretty dark, the moon shines light enough that you can see his expression. You’d expect his face to be mean, aggravated - tired. Listening to a young woman ramble about baking cookies while his body is on high alert to protect an entire fucking camp - but instead, Daryl’s expression is soft. He lets you continue, although his reaction does remind you that you’re also on guard. But aren’t you always?

The gun strapped to your hip and the knife in the pocket of your boot feel extra heavy at the reminder.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your voice low. God forbid a fucking walker kills you or anyone else in this group because you couldn’t shut up about cookies.

“Maybe it’s stupid, you know? I just,” you look down, playing with the zipper on your jacket. Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed. On the spot. Daryl probably thinks you’re a fucking idiot. Your face heats up.

But it’s not just the cookies. You leave out the part where the cookies remind you of your parents. How your mom, when she was alive, used to make them for you after a rough day. That those cookies were the staple of every sleepover you’ve ever had with your best friends. How those cookies were -

“It ain’t,” Daryl’s voice takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him, brows furrowed. You catch his eyes for only a second, before he looks away quickly, pretending to be occupied by something on the dirty ground. “It ain’t stupid,” he finishes.

You wonder that night, after Rick and the others come back to relieve you and Daryl of your duty, while you’re laid up in your sleeping bag that hardly protects you from the cold - what does Daryl miss? Sure, out of everyone in the group, he’s most equipped at living this kind of life. Knows how to hunt, can stomach raw fucking meat, isn’t scared of anything, or so he says. What reminds him of home? What thoughts comfort him?

Surely, whatever those thoughts are, they’re not as dumb as store bought cookie dough.

But what Daryl said stuck with you. Not stupid. You fall asleep, albeit with one eye open, feeling a little less cold.

Because for a moment, Daryl’s understanding?

It made the world feel a little less broken.

────

“Gross,” you mutter, blood slashing on your face. You just shot a walker in the head, and your ears are ringing from the loud noise of the gun. You’ll never get used to firing that thing. How loud it is, the way your hand shakes even minutes after you pull the trigger.

Daryl comes from behind you, and he lets out a laugh. It’s low, short - if you weren’t trained to hear the noise, you’d miss it. Because really - it’s like you’ve literally trained yourself to look for little cues that Daryl is having a good time. Or, since you doubt anyone these days is having a good time, at least that he’s alright. That he’s not annoyed at you for hanging around him or talking to him or irritated at your presence in general.

“Blood on your face grosses you out, but you’ll pick through walker guts for a bottle of nail polish,” he shakes his head, but it's not like he’s judging. In fact, Daryl actually seems a little…fond? He’s teasing you, and normally the reputation you have in this group as a girl that’s afraid to get her hands dirty, too girly to do anything for yourself - it stings.

But not when it comes from Daryl. You can tell he’s teasing, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“Didn’t dig in walker guts for that nail polish,” you remind him, even as he walks past you to lead the way. You glance at his back, the angel wings on his leather vest, and will yourself to stop the heat rushing to your face and the arousal pooling in your belly at how fucking strong he is. Big arms, muscles that look like he should be on the cover of a body building magazine instead of in these creepy woods with a crossbow. You gulp. “There was a little blood in the nail polish section when we did a run the other day. I cleaned it off the bottle I wanted. No biggie.”

Daryl scoffs, and you smile. “Yer crazy, girl,” he replies, and at that you look down at your nails. Baby pink, the same color you always used to choose when you’d get your nails done back at home. You could shiver with pleasure, just from thinking about the feeling of warm water on your hands, someone paying special attention to your cuticles - lotion, that you don't have to share with every other woman at the camp. The polish you’re wearing, painted just two days ago, is chipped and stained red with walker blood, but it’s better than nothing.

Makes you feel a little more human. A little more like a woman. A little more like yourself.

Now, if only you could find some hairspray and a razor.

You’ve been joining Daryl whenever he lets you - or, more truthfully, whenever Rick tells Daryl it’s okay for you to join him. Rick still doesn’t believe that you know what you’re doing, thinks of you as a liability, but you’re determined to prove yourself. You got to go on a run the other day, and today, Daryl went to check out the perimeter of the grassy hill the group is currently camping in, and you volunteered to go with him.

“You sure?” Rick had asked when the plan was originally made, looking at Daryl with squinted eyes. He pretended like you didn’t exist, even as you were standing right next to him. Daryl nodded. “S’okay with me. I’ll look out for her. Bring yer gun,” he told you, and you nodded, skipping after him down the trail.

Around Daryl, and maybe this is why you like him so much - it’s easy to feel like a woman. Easy to feel safe, too. Daryl just knows what he’s doing, and he’s so strong, big, can handle so much. Being around him feels good, but you know it’s all just a farce.

You’re not safe and neither is Daryl, a fact that becomes even clearer when you almost trip on a dead body by a stream you’re both passing on the way back to camp, alerting a walker that was only a few yards away. Daryl was able to kill him with an arrow, but it was a close call.

One minute, laughing and talking. The next, like you’re begging death to open the door after ringing his doorbell a few too many times.

You walk back to camp in silence, walker blood splattered on the both of you. When you get back, it’s nearly dark, and you help a few of the other women finish some laundry and keep an eye on a few restless kids. Life sucks in this world as an adult - but you can’t imagine living like this as a kid. Although, you think, watching them throw dirt at each other and believe the food their mothers are giving them really tastes just like chicken nuggets, maybe being so clueless is for the best.

After dinner, on your way to your tent, you see Rick and Daryl talking. You try to listen in, pretending that you’re just getting your sleeping bag ready for bed, but you don’t hear anything of importance. Meaning, you don’t hear either of them bring up your name. You feel like a highschooler, desperate for friends, eager to belong - hoping your crush notices you.

Because that’s what this is with Daryl, isn’t it? You’ve got a crush on him. Butterflies, wanting his attention, looking for excuses to be around him. It’s pathetic but a little beautiful, you admit - that even in a situation like this, where death surrounds every person, no matter who they are - there’s room in the human spirit for a little love.

A crush, you think again, fixing your nails in your tent. You can almost convince yourself that life isn’t so horrible, just for a minute, until the woman you share your tent with comes in for bed and complains that the smell of the polish is too strong and makes it hard for her to sleep.

Okay, bitch, you say in your head. It’s not like the walker guts and dead bodies beyond our tent smell any better. You bite your tongue and walk out of the tent, making your way to the empty clearing a little ways away from the tents. It’s so quiet, there’s no way you wouldn’t hear a walker if one was to come around you, but you have a knife on you just in case. No gun, since the noise would just draw more to you.

You think these things through. You just wish Rick, and the rest of the group, would see that too.

It’s dark, except for the moon and the stars shining pretty above you. Maybe the little fact you read online years ago about the environment is true - people are the cause of everything bad and all the pollution. A little more than half a year into the apocalypse, and there’s no smog clogging up the skies. It’s a gorgeous night.

You sit with your hands flat on the ground, waiting for your nails to dry. You get a good few minutes of silence, until the noise of footsteps has you nearly jumping out of your boots, reaching for your knife, only to realize that it’s not a walker, but Daryl coming to plop down next to you.

“Gosh, Daryl. You scared me,” you complain, letting out a whine. He doesn’t say anything, just sits next to you on the ground, although he moves so his back is facing your back. Makes sense, so you're both safe from all angles. Daryl always thinks about little things like that.

He’s quiet for long enough that you start to think of something to fill the silence. “Damnit,” you mutter, letting out a huff. “I ruined my nails.”

“Oh, quit it,” Daryl replies. “Whatcha doin’ out here all by yerself? You got a death wish, girl?” You’re mortified that Daryl is scolding you like you’re a kid, like you’re an idiot, and coming from him it just hurts even more.

You’ve always had an even temper, but in this new world, you lose it more often than you used to. It’s probably just the way life is now - the stress, the hunger, the cold and the dirt and the sweat and the lack of anything that used to bring anyone joy. It makes everyone crazy.

“Yeah, well - ‘m sure your buddy Rick hopes a walker gets to me. Know he was talking shit about me earlier.” You sniffle, but you’re not crying yet - it just really hurts, that you feel like such dead weight at this camp. You’ve never really been insecure, but you feel like nobody likes you. Nobody understands you. And yeah, surviving is more important than being miss popular with a group of people in the apocalypse, but everyone’s always talking about this group being family. Does that include you? It doesn’t feel like it these days.

Daryl is silent, as you expected. Normally you don’t mind the company, even if it’s a mute one, but tonight you’re feeling on edge. Until Daryl speaks. “Rick ain’t my friend. No one wants you to die, kid. Yer too much,” he mutters, and then you stand up, aggravated and not wanting to take it out on him.

You begin to walk away when Daryl reaches out and grabs your ankle to stop you. “Daryl,” you warn, as if you’d do anything to retaliate even if he pulled you on the ground with him. But you keep up the hard ass attitude - it feels good, you admit, being difficult for once. You don’t get to be anything but accommodating at camp.

“Rick and I were sayin’ how valuable you are to the group. How much you’ve grown,” he explains, and you roll your eyes, make a show of stomping away, knowing, loving that Daryl is right on your heels. Because there’s no reason for him to stay in that clearing - he’s not on watch tonight. He was only hanging around there for you.

Despite acting like Rick’s comment meant nothing to you, on the inside, as you walk to your tent, you fight a smile. So Rick has noticed your effort. That’s all you wanted, except -

You realize that maybe approval you wanted so badly never needed to come from Rick -

Because the approval from Daryl feels pretty damn good.

────

Daryl fixes you with a look that makes you burst out laughing.

You’ve only been at this spot in the woods for a few weeks, but so far, quality of life among the camp has improved. Almost a year in this new world, and this is the first time anyone’s ever slept with both eyes closed since before people turned into the living dead. There’s a river nearby perfect for fishing, and tonight at the campfire, you had your first taste of - what did Daryl call it?

Sushi.

“Just so you know,” you say, crossing a leg over the other on the little log you’re sitting on. The sun is going down, and the sky is a pretty shade of pink and even a little purple. You wonder if nature has always been this beautiful - you’d always just been too preoccupied to see it. You put a tiny piece of the fish Daryl caught and cooked into your mouth, surprised at the taste. You don’t have to fake your reaction. It’s not bad at all - but you wouldn’t necessarily say it’s good. Tastes better than another can of old spaghetti rings though, that’s for sure.

Still, you can’t help teasing. You finish your original statement. “Sushi tastes much better than this.”

Daryl smiles, just slightly. And not the fake kind of smile he does when he’s just trying to be polite. Like when an elderly man from the group tells a joke no one else laughs at, or when the strap of your last bra broke and you started crying until Rick promised, cheeks red, that he’d look for your size on the next run.

Right now, it seems like Daryl’s actually having a good time.

The thought makes you smile.

“Thank you,” you tell Daryl, and you swear you see him blush. “It's better than sushi, really.”

“Yeah,” Daryl says, nodding. He’s grown uncomfortable with the compliments already. “It’s the best yer gonna get.” Others from the group join you around the campfire, and then Daryl takes off, but not before giving you one last lingering gaze. He has small eyes, you’ve noticed - a little hooded, but so beautiful. He’s incredibly handsome, in a unique way. A pretty, no, beautiful man. His stare burns you, warms you up even with the chill in the air.

It’s only later, when the rest of the group clears off and you and Daryl are alone again, that he speaks. He’s sharpening a knife, leaning on the side of a camper van for support, and you’re at a makeshift sink (bucket) washing the dishes. It was your least favorite chore before this new world, and it’s still your least favorite after.

But, if you let your mind go there - something about the dynamic between Daryl cooking dinner and you cleaning the dishes up has you -

No. You’ve got to stop acting so juvenile.

On one hand, this little crush you have on Daryl is something positive that gets you through the day. Waiting to talk to him, excited to be around him - it shines light on a dark, terrible reality. On the other hand, getting attached to anyone at this camp is a bad idea. You just lost someone else a few days ago.

The reality, that death really is lurking everywhere - that something could happen to you, or Daryl…it makes your palms sweat and your breathing become erratic. The reality of this new world is just so scary and cruel.

You’re done with the dishes and you dry your hands on an old flannel that the camp uses as a dish towel. You feel Daryl watching you, and you like it.

“What are you looking at?” You tease, pushing some hair away from your face. “There a walker behind me or something?

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t look at no walker like that,” he grumbles, but then he must realize what he said - what it really means. You’re so excited you’re almost vibrating, wondering, realizing now - that maybe this crush isn’t one sided. But you still try to play it cool, even as Daryl shakes his head, says, “Wasn’t lookin’ at nuthin.’”

You don’t know what to say to that. You begin to walk away, excited to spend the rest of the night in your tent going over this interaction until you fall asleep, but what Daryl says next stops you in your tracks. You freeze.

“Gotta get you a bra on the nex’ run,” he says, and your knees feel weak. “Those things almos’ poked me in the eye. You cold or sumthin’?’”

You fast walk to your tent, nearly crying from embarrassment - but your entire body is dizzy with excitement. It’s adrenaline, but not the same kind you get when you’re running or kill a walker and make it out alive - a different kind, one you haven’t felt since maybe even before the walkers. It lights you up inside, makes it hard to breathe - and the funniest part?

Daryl has no idea your nipples are hard because you’re aroused - all from watching him sharpen a knife. What can you say? A man who can handle a weapon like that can surely handle…other things.

────

The fire crackles as you sit back, the warmth from the flames doing little to ease the chill in your bones. It’s freezing outside, but you’re under a warm blanket, and if you delude yourself enough you can almost convince yourself that this is just a toasty evening with friends and not a risky fire that could very well lead walkers directly to the camp.

But there’s nothing the group can do - it’s simply too cold to go without a fire tonight. Even Daryl, king of having his arms always showing, is in a jacket tonight. Which sucks, because you really love looking at his arms…but this is survival.

There’s hushed conversation while Rick tells a story, a few pairs to the side chattering, and you feel left out until you notice that Daryl isn’t talking to anyone either. He’s just looking at the ground, then the fire, gaze flickering to you every few minutes.

And you only notice that because your eyes can’t stay off of him. You can’t help it - it’s like you’re always looking for him. There’s something about that man, as dumb as it sounds, that makes him feel like your own security blanket. Even seeing him from across the camp, just a glimpse, can settle your nerves like nothing else.

Suddenly, a voice from next to you tries to get your attention. It’s Derek, a decent looking guy about your age - but he’s pretty useless, as far as skills go. He accompanies the rest of the men for runs into town, can kill a walker if necessary, but he’s selfish and all about himself. Won’t even take watch at night, says it interferes with his sleep. You can’t stand him.

You try to avoid his gaze and pretend to be busy, picking at your cuticles and hoping he leaves you alone, but no such luck.

“Look at you, princess,” he teases, and you cringe so hard you wonder if it’s visible. It’s embarrassing, being referred to like that - so what, that you like the color pink and happen to be attractive? You’re not hurting anyone. The clothes you’re wearing, the pink clips you have to hold your hair back, the floral printed pillow case - those were all things you had before the world went to shit.

You didn’t know the apocalypse had a dress code.

You’re sick of being teased. Of being reduced to this overly feminine character - as if you don’t keep watch just as much as the men. As if you don’t kill walkers when they get close to the camp, while the other women hide. As if you don’t cook, and clean, and -

Derek is still talking.

You sneak a glance across the campfire at Daryl, who holds your gaze for a minute before dropping it. You look back down too, play with your fingers on your lap. You’d go to your tent right now if you weren’t scared about the safety of falling asleep with no one actively on watch.

“So, what’d you all do before this?” Derek asks, leaning forward. He’s asking the group, but he’s looking at you, which means - you’re supposed to go first?

You wonder if this has anything to do with what you told Cindy, someone you used to share a tent with before she found room in another one. There’s not much to do these days when you’re not cooking or cleaning or hunting or moving - lots of time to sit and talk. The apocalypse is so much more boring than you ever anticipated. You shared a lot about your past with her, but surely she wouldn’t gossip about you to the others in the camp?

You thought girl code was still a thing, even in these trying times.

Everyone is silent, waiting for your answer. Even Daryl and Rick seem interested, which makes you feel even worse. You wanted to fit in, not be the center of attention.

You shift uncomfortably, before clearing your throat. You can feel Cindy’s eyes on you, sitting just a few people down. “Nothing special. Just,” you pause and shrug, unsure of what to say. “Whatever I had to. To survive.”

Back then, surviving was all about money, and ever since your parents died when you were a teenager, money is the one thing you never had enough of. One thing you did have though, is your beauty. So you used it, to get the things you needed, and sometimes a little more - but it all boiled down to one thing, just like it does now - to survive.

That’s all life is about, really? Take away the frills, the fun - people just want to stay alive, no matter how rough things get.

So - you had a boyfriend to pay your rent. A man that loved to take you shopping. A lonely guy who paid off your car. You’ve never lived in luxury, but you always made it. Always got by. Had the things you needed and a little bit more. Always -

“Yeah, well, we all knew you were a whore.”

The words leave Derek’s mouth and you’re frozen. Speechless - and that never happens to you. You’re so shocked at what he said that your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and it’s only then that you realize the bottle of hard liquor on his lap.

You glare at Cindy, who quickly gets up and runs to her tent, more scared of you than walkers apparently - good, you think, because she’s such a bitch for talking about you behind your back. You try to be cool about it, to laugh it off like Derek is so wrong it doesn’t even deserve a reaction, but you’re so embarrassed you feel your chest aching.

Has everyone known about your history the entire time you’ve been at camp? You shared those stories with Cindy in the beginning, one of the first nights you arrived, desperate for some comfort. Is that why everyone treats you so differently from the rest? Is that why you’re the black sheep of a fucking camp formed during the apocalypse?

Does Daryl know?

You’re ready to defend yourself, but you don’t get to. Because Daryl is around the fire so fast you don’t even have time to blink, grabbing Derek by the collar of his shirt and pounding his fists into his face.

The sound of knuckles against bone is excruciating, makes you want to hurl - but you don’t tell him to stop. You’re frozen, and anyway, Derek deserves it, doesn’t he?

It’s Rick, and a few other men that pull Daryl off of Derek, who’s sporting an eye so swollen it won’t shut and a busted lip, a cheek that’ll be purple for the next few weeks for sure. “Whore,” he spits, still able to talk, even as someone drags him away. “Man, shut up already,” one of the guys says to him, but nobody eases the sting of what he says.

Daryl wipes sweat from his brow while Rick walks off to talk to Derek, but he can’t get a word in with the shit the other man is spewing. “Fucking whore,” he keeps grumbling. “There’s no money to milk from men anymore, is there? Bet you put out for that fish Dixon caught for you. Did you do the same for that new bra? Or that water bottle Rick brought back for you? Almost died you know, getting that shit for you, maybe you can thank me with,” Rick kicks him in the ribs before he can finish and tells him to shut up in that leader voice of his.

You run off, now that the rest of the group has scattered, but you hear Daryl yell out, “Yeah, man, you should’ve died,” with a string of curse words. “All you fuckin’ people looking’ at her. Yer all whores in your own way. Useless too,” he continues, but you don’t hear it because you get into your tent and zip it up.

Great. All this drama, and now nobody is ever going to fucking like you now. You’ll be the black sheep forever, won’t you? It’s a harsh wake up call, and you’re thankful you’re alone. Your tentmate must’ve taken her daughter out to be with the other kids, away from the rowdiness at the fucking campfire. You sniffle, and climb into your sleeping bag.

A minute later, before you’ve even had time to process what’s happening, Daryl enters the tent. He’s so big, it’s hard for him to fit, but he manages - cursing and crouching in a way that would make you laugh if this wasn’t such a depressing situation.

He sits next to your sleeping bag. Knees bent, arms around his legs. He just sort of watches you. You look anywhere but his face, but you notice his knuckles are bloody red and torn, all because of you.

“Didn’t have to defend me,’ you say, instead of thank you. “I wasn’t a whore, so,” but Daryl cuts you off.

“Don’t matter what you were. He shouldn’t talk to you like that. Little prick deserves his ass kicked anyway. Can’t even shoot straight,” it’s like this moment is as uncomfortable for him as it is for you. You share a look, but you look away first, afraid of the intensity. You’ve never had someone stand up for you before - not like this. What are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to do?

You say nothing at all. A few more minutes go by, with your vision blurry as you stare at Daryl’s knuckles and he stares at the hole that shows the grassy ground in the bottom of your tent. Finally, he sighs, annoyed, and even though you’re not talking you’re still worried he’s going to leave. He’s your teddy bear after all, right? Your security blanket. Maybe you’re selfish - but you don't want him to go.

And he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl adjusts his position so he can reach into his pocket and pull something out. It’s bright pink, satin looking - you wonder if he’s going to hand you a pair of racy panties just to seal the deal that he thinks you’re a slut. A whore.

But is he wrong? The look of the muscles in his arm, at his sheer size - at the smell of him, so masculine and woodsy in this little tent it almost makes you dizzy with want.

After what just happened, how can you be thinking about sex? Maybe you are a slut. A whore. You’ve done things for money before, but -

Daryl hands the piece of pink satin to you. “S’posed to be a ribbon,” he says, shrugging. He’s embarrassed you realize, and it’s cute. “Found it on a toy, er, teddy bear, thought you might like it. If you don’t, I,” but you cut him off, scoot closer to him as you tie it around your wrist.

“Thank you, Daryl,” you say softly, sweetly - and it feels so natural to lean in and press your lips against his cheek. His body is warm, and when you grip his bicep every cell in your body is on fire with desire. He must’ve taken his jacket off after the fight. If it could even be called that, with the way Daryl jumped Derek. Fights are usually a two way street.

Your heart swells, at the fact that he protected you. Thought about you on a run. Saw something and thought of you. Men have bought you things before, of course - but never something personal like this. Never something you didn’t have to ask for beforehand, for nothing in return.

Daryl, he - he gives you feelings so fuzzy and pure in your chest that you almost forget you’re sleeping just a few feet away from a forest of dead bodies.

He doesn’t wipe his cheek when you pull away after the kiss, which is a step in the right direction. You’ve seen Daryl lose his shit over the intimacy of a simple thank you hug with someone else from camp before.

You feel special.

“Was nothin,’” he says, before pausing. He looks at you, then away again, wringing his hands before continuing. “Don’t feel any typa way about doin’ what you had to do to survive, ya hear me? I know what it’s like to do what you hav’to to live, ya know? That fucker. He doesn't have a clue about makin’ it on your own. How tough it can be. Don’ listen to the shit he’s got to say. Don’t listen to none of these people,” he won’t look at you, but you look at him, the side profile of his face so handsome you want to reach out and touch him. But you refrain.

Instead, you squeeze his arm, bicep tan and bulging. You lick your bottom lip. “Daryl,” you interrupt him and he looks at you, gaze on your eyes, then your lips, then to the pretty ribbon tied around your wrist. He visibly swallows, before looking back at your eyes. His eyes are blue, pretty. Too pretty for a man as rugged as him, but what’s the saying?

A person who is good on the inside - their beauty shines through. You think that’s true about Daryl. At this moment, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a man as beautiful as him. You breathe him in, going crazy over his pheromones - his smell. You can feel your body getting aroused at his closeness, and he’s not even doing anything sexual.

“Next time,” you say, teasing tone in your voice, “Can you bring the whole bear?”

────

“Look at us,” you say, trying not to skip beside Daryl. A mood this good feels eerie in this new world, but you can’t help the way you feel.

Daryl asked you to join him for a walk, and ever since that night when he gave you the ribbon in your tent - you’ve been closer than ever. You wear the ribbon around your wrist every single day, except for right now, when you’re wearing it to hold some of your hair back.

You’re not sure what’s going on with you and Daryl, but there’s a freedom about it that fills you with joy. Helps you exhale easier in this crazy, cruel world - because he’s safe, and you like being around him, and he obviously likes you too, right? Or he wouldn’t ask you to go for a walk every single day, wouldn’t pay special attention to you during meals, making sure you’re eating enough -

And he really wouldn’t have kissed you against a tree during his watch last week if he had any bad feelings towards you.

Things at the camp are complicated, because that stunt Derek pulled separated the group. There’s people that hate you, because they’re really mad at Daryl - but nobody can be actually mad at Daryl, since he does so much for the entire group. Catches animals for food, is one of the strongest men besides Rick. You’re not exactly his girl, not even close, but you know that the only reason you haven’t been used as walker bait is because of Daryl’s status at the camp.

When he kissed you, just a few weeks after that night in the tent - it was so much softer than you imagined. Because, yeah - you imagined what it would be like to kiss Daryl Dixon. Ever since you met him, really. He’s so tough, so crass, such a force. It’s always been an opinion of yours, that the toughest people really just need some softness. You wonder now, when he smiles shyly at you as you walk past a stream, if you’re that softness for him these days.

“Look at us, what, girlie?” He asks, and you stifle a giggle, trying to remain serious for the bit of the joke. You brush your hand against his as you walk, wondering when he’ll grab it. Wondering when, if, he’ll ever claim you. But you’re trying not to rush things. It’s easy to get worried about time, when every single day is life and death - but there's something kind of beautiful about just going with the flow of what feels good.

Living in the present, which is literally all you have now. All anyone has. And right now, your goal in the present, is to make Daryl laugh.

“You’ve got your bow,” you say, gesturing to his weapon, “And I’ve got mine.” You flip your hair, showing off the pink, satin ribbon holding your hair away from your face. Daryl chuckles and shakes his head, but it only lasts for a second.

Your face heats, pleased with yourself for making him laugh, and then your breath hitches when he grabs hold of your hand.

“Yer sumthin’ else, girl,” he says fondly, and you walk into an area dense with trees before he nudges you against the trunk of one.

You don’t know what life was like for Daryl before walkers took over the population. You’re not sure if he had a lot, or a little, experience with women before this all happened. In fact, you don’t know a lot about Daryl at all. He’s closed off, he’s a little mean sometimes, too tough for his own good -

But god, the way he kisses.

Hesitant, like he’s scared to take something he didn’t earn. You want to tell him that every single part of you, he has earned. You’ve known him for more time than your longest relationship. You’ve seen each other filthy, desperate, depraved. Covered in blood, covered in guts - starving, dirty, depressed. For a man that hardly talks, Daryl somehow knows you better than any man, maybe even any other person, ever has.

He stood up for you. He tries to take care of you. He’s a good friend, he’s -

When he slips a hand to your hip and drops his crossbow on the ground, squeezes at your skin in a way that’s so possessive it makes your breath hitch, you literally let out a cry. Against your lips, Daryl murmurs, “Quiet, ‘less you wanna have a threesum with a walker.” His tongue tastes like cigarettes, a little bit like the apple juice one of the kids at the camp wanted him to try, because he’s a good sport, even if his resting bitch face might suggest otherwise.

There’s something about him ordering you around that does it for you. You let him take charge of the kiss, but you grab his roaming hand and move it to your breast. He squeezes, but in your new bra, you don’t feel the friction you’re so desperately craving from him rubbing over your nipples. You want more, and you whine, trying not to be greedy but it’s just so damn hard.

Against the tree, Daryl slips a leg between yours, and you shamelessly bend down to try to rub your aching core against it. “Daryl,” you whine, and he laughs, pulling away to look at you, his hair that’s getting longer plastered against his forehead with sweat. Everything about him is overwhelming. His smell, intense, his lips, delicious, his strength and size, so fucking hot you just want to curl up in the pocket of his shirt and stay safe forever.

Because you don’t have a doubt in your mind - Daryl would keep you safe. You wonder, why you wasted your time with finance guys and entrepreneurs and men who’d never gotten their hands dirty, back when life was normal. Daryl, with calloused fingertips and his thick accent, a country boy through and through - he pleases you, makes you happier than anyone you’ve ever met before.

Yeah, even in the apocalypse, you can find the romance. You kiss Daryl deeper.

He moves his hand down from your breast to slip it into your pants, and he lets out a low noise in his throat at the feeling of your wetness already. Just from kissing him. You’re not ashamed - it’s been a long time since anyone touched your pussy like this, a long time since you even touched it yourself. There’s just no time alone, and you share a tent, and -

“Yer soakin,’” Daryl comments, and your entire body flushes with humiliation. But the good kind. You nod. “For you,” you whisper, and he leans his forehead against yours before capturing your lips in his again.

Just as you expected, Darly is good with his fingers. He positions one of your legs over his hip so he has better access to finger you, rough hands, the calloused pads of his thumb dragging over your clit, so swollen after so long without cumming. It’s not going to take long, you know, to completely fucking burst. You want it so bad, to come apart on his fingers, to show him just how good you can be. He’s knuckle deep inside of you while still also putting pressure on your clit when you let out a screech, thankful you opened your eyes in time to see the walker coming from behind Daryl.

You push him off of you until he curses and tries to pick up his crossbow, fingers still slick with your pussy, but you beat him to it. You grab the knife out of your boot, even though your body feels like jelly, and you slam it into the walker’s forehead as hard as you can. You huff and puff, because it takes a lot out of you, and when the walker is on the ground you slam your boot into its face a few too many times until the bottom of your shoe is covered with walker brains.

“He’s dead,” Daryl says behind you. “Don’ waste yer energy.” You roll your eyes, wiping sweat from your face with a bandana you had in your pocket.

“I know. That’s for him ruining my orgasm,” you say out loud, and behind you, Daryl lets out a low whistle. You’re really humiliated now, but what are the chances? A fucking walker trying to eat Daryl while you’re trying to get him to eat you? Some fucking luck.

There’s still blood splattering on your face, and you turn to Daryl, wiping it with your sleeve. “Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” you say sheepishly, unsure of how to read his bland expression. But just because a walker interrupted, doesn’t mean you don’t want to continue your little fingering session. Just in case, shame out the window, you reach for him. Daryl backs away slightly.

“Slow down,” he says, pulling away from you. “Don’ wanna fuck you in the forest,” and you understand, but also - where else can you have sex? Everyone’s always watching each other. When else can you get some time alone?

Daryl looks down at the bulge in his pants, and you reach down and grope him, like some kind of horny harlot. Maybe you are. He watches you, the color of your nails, your tiny hand - and he lets out a groan himself.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says, leaving you speechless and wet in the middle of the woods. He starts to walk away, but his head is turned to you and his eyes never leave you. You know it’s because he’s making sure you’re safe, watching over you, even with his dick chubbing up in his pants. He tugs his weapon up to rest on his shoulder.

If that’s not a man, you don’t know what is.

“Daryl,” you start to say, following him, about to beg him for something more, but he just throws an arm around your shoulders and tugs you along. You use the opportunity with his hand on your shoulder to tie the ribbon around his wrist, a small mark of your ownership. You wonder what he’ll say about that, if he’ll be mad -

He just squeezes your shoulder. “Not tryna deny you. I want you. Me and the little guy,” he looks down to his cock in his pants, obviously referring to that. “Yer just too pretty to do somethin’ like that in the woods. My tent, tonight?” You know that his tent mate is keeping watch tonight, so you’ll be alone for a good amount of time. Enough time to - you shiver just thinking about it.

You nod eagerly.

“You sure you’re not just disgusted at what I just did?” You phrase it like a joke, gently rubbing your lips on the healing cuts of his knuckles, but you’re serious. Maybe seeing a woman behave greedy, wanting, desperate - violent - maybe it was a huge turn off.

Daryl shakes his head and tugs you closer, presses his lips to the top of your head. “Nah,” he assures, looking back down to the bulge in his pants. It’s even more noticeable than before. He takes the hand he used to finger you and sucks the digits, covered in your slick, into his mouth. The muscles in your cunt clench, at the way his cheekbones look, the level of lust in his eyes aimed at you.

“That was fuckin’ sexy,” he assures, popping his fingers out of his mouth.

────

At dinner that night, which is squirrel - so you settle for half a protein bar and a bruised apple, Rick sits down beside you. You’re eating away from everyone else, because Daryl’s helping someone with something like he always is, but it’s alright because you’re in your own world, thinking about what’s to come later tonight with him.

You’re in a trance, remembering the way he scratched at your scalp fondly when he walked you to your tent and watched you bend down to get inside. “Don’t sprain yer wrist before tonight,” he joked, insinuating you’d be finishing yourself off. He went off with a wink, leaving you reeling - because since when did Daryl Dixon joke around?

You’ve been riding on a high for the rest of the night.

Rick sitting beside you takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him and swallow the bit of stale protein bar you’ve been chewing for probably ten minutes, quirking an eyebrow at him. He’s so serious, it’s annoying.

Don’t get it wrong - you like Rick. Appreciate everything he’s done, does for the camp - he’s just so intense, but he’s handsome in his own right too. Not your normal type, but then again - neither is Daryl. You just don’t understand a man like Rick, and he doesn’t get you. But he’s the best thing this group has, because he has everyone's interest at heart. Even someone like Daryl, well -

He puts himself, and you by extension now, maybe - first. It’s not a bad thing, in fact, you find both sides of the coin admirable in their own way.

“What’s up, Rick?” You finally ask. He looks down to his hands, before nodding behind you, and you turn and look at what he’s referring to - it’s Daryl, looking angrily at Derek, who’s by the fire drunkenly talking shit about everything while people try to calm him down. You sigh.

“You and Daryl,” Rick says, and you’re not sure what to say to that - statement? Accusation? You just nod. “What about us?” You ask, and you really don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not sure why whatever you’re doing with Daryl is any of Rick, or anyone’s, business?

You expect a lecture. Something about needing to earn your keep, to stop distracting him, to make things right with Derek. Instead, Rick just pats you on the back, literally.

“You’re good for him,” he says, before awkwardly walking off when someone calls his name. No doubt for a crisis that could easily be solved without his help. You feel sorta bad for Rick - people are so stressed, so traumatized in this new world, that they don’t want to use their brains at all. They put all their problems, no matter how small, on Rick, and that’s gotta be hard.

You want to call out some sort of acknowledgement for all he does as he walks away, but Daryl begins walking towards you before you get the chance. You’re still looking towards Rick. “You checkin’ the boss out?” Daryl jokes, with something like possessiveness or jealousy in his tone. It burns you in the best way possible - that Daryl might worry about something like that.

What can you say? You’ve always thought a possessive man was hot.

Daryl plops down beside you. You’re sitting on a log, but he’s on the ground. Typical Daryl behavior. He wraps a hand around your ankle - and suddenly you’re very glad you got a chance to shave with the razor you stole from someone’s pile of toiletries after the last run.

“That all yer eatin?’” He asks, referring to the empty wrapper in your hand. You shake your head and show off your sorry apple, but Daryl just shakes his head and scoffs. “Tha’s not enough. You can’t be picky about,” but he stops when he sees the expression on your face.

You’ve talked to him about this before. He didn’t reply, but you know he was listening. Food - it’s the only thing you can be a little picky about. Everything else, you don't have any choice over. Where the camp goes, who you share a tent with. Food and now, this thing with Daryl - that’s all the power you have. Daryl nods, like he gets it but doesn’t like it, and then changes the subject.

“Are you cold?” You ask, and Daryl laughs. As kind as he is to you, you know that he’s uncomfortable when you, or anyone, tries to show any kind of care for him. He nods his chin towards the ratty blanket you’re using. “You gon’ share with me, girlie?” You shake your head, a grin spreading across your face.

“No,” you say, tossing the blanket, the apple, and the wrapper into a duffle bag next to the log you’re sitting on. “Just thought I could warm you up in your tent.” Daryl looks like a deer caught in headlights as he peaks over your shoulder to where the rest of the group is getting ready for bed, his tent mate grabbing a gun before heading to the area where he’ll keep watch while everyone sleeps.

Daryl nods. “Yer dirty,” he grumbles, standing up, but he runs his hands up and down his bare arms like he’s feigning being cold. “C’mon then. You gunna warm me up or what?”

────

The first time Daryl fucked you, he went slow. Took his time, opening you up with his thick fingers, even though you didn’t need the extra time. You were aching, wet - desperate for him to shove his cock inside of you, because you’d been thinking about it for too long. Too much kissing, humping, friction between the two of you - all you wanted, could imagine, was how his cock would feel against your throbbing center.

When he finally thrusted inside of you, stretched you out and began to fuck into you, he didn’t let himself go like you always imagined. Insecurely, you narrowed your eyes, even as your back arched off of his sleeping bag. “When’s the last time?” You asked, referring to the last time he had sex. Daryl just let out a shaky laugh and calmed your fears with a thrust that made your toes curl and a moan escape your lips.

“Long enough, pretty girl,” he assured, all while you huffed in brat and dug your nails into his shoulders. “Jus’ wanna enjoy it. We’ve finally got the time.” And Daryl was right, but really, when is he ever wrong?

The first time you had sex you got to enjoy going slow. But the rest of the times after that - and there’s been a lot now, it’s always a quickie. A rush, because shit hit the fan at your current camp soon after the first night together. The entire group had to move, you lost people to walkers (though not Derek, unfortunately), and now getting off with Daryl only happens in quick spurts whenever you’re alone.

In a way, the drama surrounding the camp has made the two of you closer.

When the entire group has to drive down a walker infested highway, normally you’d be in a camper van with the other women and children, but Daryl has your back.

“You’re ridin’ with me,” he says, shooting Rick a look before anyone can object. As he walks off, he purposely bumps his shoulder into Derek, who scoffs and does the same to you. Daryl doesn’t notice, but Rick does, and he tells Derek off before Daryl can do anything drastic like beat his ass again.

“Hey,” he warns, shoving Derek away from you. “Watch it,” Derek grumbles, glaring at you before hopping into the back of a truck with a few of the other men. “What?” He asks mockingly, because you’re frozen, watching him in a trance while Daryl starts up his bike.

Derek just can’t leave you alone - he picks on you every single chance he gets. “You got Rick standing up for you now too, huh?” He says, shaking his head in disgust. “You let him fuck you too?”

It’s not his words that hurt so much, but it’s the fact that he’s saying them at all. You’ve never done anything to Derek, have only been nice, yet he looks at you like a target and it hurts so bad your eyes threaten to spill tears. Thankfully, Daryl comes for you, and you get on the back of his bike with ease.

“You okay?” He asks, even though it’s hard to hear with the sound of the rumble from the motorcycle. You nod, and press your face into his back. Daryl takes off down the highway, leading the way while Rick follows behind, and you selfishly let yourself doze off against him. You trust Daryl, more than you’ve ever trusted another man - and that’s a lot of pressure.

Trusting anyone these days means you’re putting your life in their hands. It’s exhausting. When you tell the women at camp you’ll watch their kids while they go to the restroom, or go for a walk - essentially what you’re saying is you’ll protect their kids if shit was going south. Even just the thought, being responsible for someone else - it makes your chest heave.

Your arms are tight around Daryl as he drives. You’re not sure how long you’re on the road for when the motorcycle stops, but you know you’re much farther ahead then the rest of the group. In another life, you imagine Daryl happy and free - driving to a city, or another town on a brand new motorcycle. Maybe working in a shop. You feel a pang of sadness, that he’ll never get that.

He deserves so much more than this shit. You all do.

Except maybe Derek.

And Cindy. Fuck that bitch.

Daryl stops the bike and you get off, stretching your legs.

“You good, dolly?” He asks, and you wrinkle your nose at the nickname. You’re pretending not to like it, when in reality, it makes you tingle all over. You nod.

“You go fast,” you say, and he laughs, steps off of the bike and walks to an empty field off to the side of the highway. “‘S the only way to go. Stay here,” he orders, before walking off. He grumbles something about taking a piss and you stifle a laugh, pretending to salute him. You see his hand twitch, like he wants to jokingly flip you off, but he stops himself.

Something about that, that he won’t play rough with you, has your knees feeling wobbly. You feel like you can breathe, without the rest of the group breathing down your back, insulting you, accusing you of doing sexual things just to be treated like a human being. You try not to think about it, because you want to have a decent day and don’t want Derek to be the cause of tears when you’ve been through worse circumstances without crying. It’s hard though.

You walk around the motorcycle, eyes on the ground. You catch a glimpse of your shoelace, pink against the black of your boot, because you used the ribbon for added flair when you gave your shoelace to someone at the camp who needed a belt.

Daryl saw you, and promised you that night with his cock buried deep in your throat, “I’ll get you some more ribbons, pretty girl,” he assured, while you gagged and spit dribbled down your chin. “Too hard to hold your hair back when yer suckin’ me off like a pro.”

That comment should’ve stung, but you know Daryl didn’t mean it like that. In fact, it was so hot that you did your best, until he spilled down your throat and you licked the mess you made off of his cock and balls and thighs.

You’re lost in your thoughts, busy giving your pussy a heartbeat when you notice a little gold, bullet shaped thing on the ground. You’re not sure what it is, but if it is a bullet, you know having extra is always good. You reach down to grab it, only then realizing that it's a lipstick.

You pop open the lid. It’s a pretty pink color, and while it’s used - you can’t even remember the last time you wore makeup. You wipe the top layer off before dabbing some with your finger and putting it on, trying to check yourself out in the mirror of the motorcycle when Daryl comes back.

“The fuck are they?” He asks, zipping his pants up. He’s so, so, so - crass sometimes that it’s endearing. You shrug, and that’s when he notices the lipstick you’re wearing. His eyes are hooded, heavy with tiredness, and it makes him look all the more handsome. “There a makeup store aroun’ here I shud know about?” He teases, and you shake your head and hold up the lipstick tube.

“Found this. How’s it look?” Daryl just nods, looking at you with a strange expression. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, until he tugs you closer to him by the wrist and tentatively presses his lips against yours.

“Don’ care about the gloss,” he comments, and you resist the urge to explain it’s not gloss, it’s lipstick. “But I don’ call you pretty girl for no reason. Always pretty,” he says shyly, and Daryl is a perfect guy, but he never opens up. Hardly ever says how he feels, or what he thinks - but he’s being clear now. That he wants you, verbally, even though his actions in everything he do is always proving that to you.

It’s crazy, the feeling of happiness bubbling in your chest, all thanks to Daryl Dixon. On the fucking highway filled with walkers probably silent in their cars, with flat tires and blood stains and ramsacked belongings, you stand on your tip toes and nudge the toe of your boots against his, grabbing hold of his handsome face and peppering kisses all over. You leave pink lipstick marks, but he doesn’t know that yet - and it makes you giggle.

Putting your mark all over Daryl - you’ve never been possessive, but wow does it feel good. When you finally pull away, Daryl looks at you like you’re crazy. Then he takes a look down the highway to make sure nobody’s coming, before bending you over the front of his motorcycle.

“Grab the handlebars,” he orders, a hand on your back before roughly pulling your pants down your ass. It’s risky, knowing that the rest of the camp could drive up at any minute, but who really cares? They already think so low of you. They already -

Your eyes shut as Daryl shoves his half hard cock inside of you, and your walls clamp down around him, so tight you feel him growing. It happened so fast he wasn’t even fully hard, but now he is, small thrusts so the both of you can get used to the feeling. Your hands are cramping where they grip the bars of his bike, so tight, until it almost starts to tip. Daryl has an idea.

He pulls out, cock in hand with his fucking pants not even pulled all the way down, and he sits himself over his bike like normal. “Take em’ off,” he says, nodding towards your pants, and you obey, stripping them off until it takes too long because of your boots and Daryl just hauls you over to him.

You almost trip as he lifts you onto the bike, bent over the handlebars, eyes on the road, before he slips his cock into you. It’s like you’re sitting on his lap, and he reaches around you, fully supporting your body while rubbing your clit.

“Can you move?” He asks roughly, and you whine, trying to go up and down on his cock but it’s too hard at the angle. Daryl presses a kiss to your head, moves some of your hair back while he takes hold of your hips and ruts you back and forth over his dick. You know he’s strong, but feeling it first hand is something else entirely. It’s like you’re a doll with the way he easily controls your body, dick so thick it feels like he’s stretching your pussy into the perfect mold just for him.

“Don’ worry,” he assures, letting out a breath of pleasure right by your ear. “I got ya. Only time yer quiet ‘s when you got my cock in you, huh?”

He’s not wrong. You wish you could see his face, but this position, your back to his front, is pretty hot too.

It’s only a minute later, when his hand slips while you try to pull your body up to do some of the work, that he nearly pinches your clit and it’s the pain that sends you over the edge. You cum, that easily against him, and you cry out his name just as you both hear the sound of an engine in the distance. Daryl curses, throws his head back at the feel of your tight pussy squeezing him, and quite literally picks you up off his cock and puts you on your feet.

“Knees,” he says quickly, and you obey, because of course you do, even though the gravel of the road is a little painful on your knees. He grabs you by your hair, and forces your mouth onto his cock where he spills his load down your throat. You swallow it down and kitten lick the head of his cock clean after, admiring the pink lipstick marks all over his perfect dick as he quickly zips tucks his dick in his pants and zips up, but not before helping you get your pants back up too.

“If we live another day,” Daryl says, helping you straighten out your pants when the other cars pull up. He snaps the band of your panties, white cotton and floral print, against your skin while the rest of the group gets out of the cars to have a meeting over some bullshit, you’re sure. “I’ll return the favor,” he finishes.

You don’t know if he’s joking or not, but you pull up his arm and cuddle into his side as he stands up, his tongue on your mind even though you just came all over his cock. You wish you could’ve had time to ride your orgasm out, but you’ll take what you can get.

Rick nods to Daryl as he gets out of his truck. He looks between the two of you, and for the first time, maybe ever, - you see him smirk a little.

“‘S your color, man,” he says, closing the car door. Daryl is confused, and takes a look at himself in the rearview mirror of his motorcycle, notices all the kiss marks and another first happens -

Daryl Dixon blushes red.

────

“I wanna come,” you say, resisting the urge to literally stomp your foot as Rick and Daryl and a few other men head out on a run.

It’s not like you actually want to go, but you can’t bear the thought of Daryl leaving without you. You know he can take care of himself, but the thought of him not returning - it literally makes you feel sick. You tug on the sleeves of your sweater while Daryl loads a bag of guns into the back of Rick’s truck, the other men exchanging glances that you know are them hoping Rick puts you in your place.

Ever since people caught on about you and Daryl, they’ve kept their mouths shut in regards to you. Which is good. You’re still ignored, like before - but at least you’ve got a little respect. You cross your arms as Rick and Daryl walk towards you.

“It’s dangerous out there,” Rick says, as if you’re an idiot who’s head has been buried in the sand for the past year. He sighs. “Look - we need you here. This is your role,” he looks like he wants to continue, but Daryl places a hand on his shoulder and gives him a look that Rick knows means let me handle this.

But you already know what Daryl is going to say to you, and you don’t want to fucking hear it. “I want to come, Daryl,” you say, trying not to whine. “I’m good with a gun, and since Derek can’t go,” you lower your voice, but Derek must’ve been slinking around. He pops up next to you, and Daryl tenses.

“You,” Daryl warns, mood gone sour just from Derek’s presence. “Fuck off.”

Derek laughs, but he’s obviously pissed. He can’t go on anymore runs, at least not for a while - he’s too scared, after a walker almost bit him the last time.

It’s only when you tense up, that Daryl realizes the other reason you don’t want to be left alone.

You don’t want to be alone with Derek. Yes, there’s other women at the camp and a few other men, but Derek is a scary, loose cannon. He’s the last person you want to be around right now. Daryl’s jaw locks, and he looks between the two of you, at the way you’re uncomfortable. Someone in Rick’s truck blares the horn, and he turns around, stressed out, not knowing what to do.

“Fuck face,” Daryl grumbles, running a hand down his face. He’s addressing Derek with a glare. He walks closer to him, chest to chest almost, backing Derek almost onto his ass. Derek can pretend to be tough all he wants - but he’s a bitch in comparison to a man like Daryl.

“Stay away from her. Don’t even look at her. If I come back and you so much as,” but Derek smirks. “If,” he emphasizes, until Daryl literally shoves him. Rick calls his name, and Daryl backs off.

You end up dropping whatever you’re saying, hating the position you’re putting Daryl in - like you’re a kid who has to have your way. Daryl is just trying to help the group, he has responsibilities - you don’t need to make his job harder than it is, so you wave him off. “I’ll be fine, Daryl. Just - come back safe.” You kiss his cheek and then he’s off.

You go to your tent to avoid Derek when the men going on the run are gone, but as you walk away you hear him speaking to you. “What’re you doing with that white trash? You might’ve been a whore, but you’re no trailer trash. You wouldn’t be with him if this was any other world.”

You stop in your tracks. “Don’t talk about Daryl like that,” you say softly, but firmly. For all Daryl does for everyone - you can’t believe Derek has the fucking nerve to talk shit. You want to flip him off, but he walks closer to you, and you freeze. You’re more scared of this man than a fucking walker, and your stomach flips with anxiety at his nearness.

“I worked in finance,” he says, like it matters. You actually have to stifle a laugh, confused at why his past matters - he’s so worthless that this is all he has to brag about? He thinks you care? Is he trying to relate to you, by putting Daryl down? He’s an idiot.

You smile sweetly, as if that’s anything to brag about. All the finance guys you knew in the city before all of this - they were horrible people. Of course that’s what Derek used to do.

“Trust me, Derek,” you say, hoping it stings. “I know.”

You walk away again, but just as you do, he grabs you by the arm. You try to pull your arm out of his grasp, but he won’t let you go. He tugs you closer to him, and you wish anyone cared about you enough to help you.

“Let go of me,” you spit, but Derek just shakes his head.

“You’re such a stupid bitch, you know that? Acting too good for any of us, treating all of us like shit. But you put out for fucking Dixon - let all of us hear you letting him fuck you in his tent and the woods. We saw you on your knees that day on the highway. I mean, it’s not a secret you’re a slut, but it’s another thing to see it. And now Rick is defending you? That why you were talking to him the other day for dinner? Offering yourself up for more rations or something? You’re sick,” Derek rants and raves, bruising your arm with his grip.

“Let me go,” you say, trying not to show how scared you are. “Or I’ll fucking scream.”

Derek actually laughs, shaking his head. You’re disturbed to know that he’s been watching you? Following you and Daryl? Because the both of you know - you only ever fooled around with Daryl when nobody could listen and see unless they were trying to. You wouldn’t do that, and neither would Daryl.

“If I’m such a stupid slut, that must make you pretty bad, huh? That I won’t even put out for you,” you hate that you even say those words, like you’d ever consider having sex with this man, but you want to hurt him. To get him to see that he's wrong about you - you want him to leave you alone.

“You fucking bitch,” Derek says, pushing you to the ground.

You let out a cry. You should’ve never told Daryl and Rick you’d be okay, you should’ve -

Suddenly Derek is off of you. You’re frozen for a second, before you hear screaming and someone calling out your name.

You’re in shock as someone helps you up. You know it’s Rick, because you notice his watch. “Damnit,” he curses, and you register the sound of Daryl’s voice. You look around for him, and when you find him, you see Derek on the ground, an arrow in his head.

He’s dead - for now. That fast. Until he turns into a walker.

Daryl walks to you, pulls you into his arms. “What happened?” He asks, and you’re worried he’s going to blame you, because you provoked him, and you stupidly left your weapons in your tent. You’re worried he’s going to think differently of you, that Rick will be mad that Derek is dead, and all these worries start swirling in your head until you can’t be strong anymore. You start crying so loud that you know you’ll be responsible for any walkers coming into camp tonight.

Rick starts to talk, but Daryl, for the first time ever, shuts him down harshly. “No, man. I ain’t sorry. He had it coming,” he says sharply, and Rick just swallows, holds his hands up like he agrees.

“Jus’ was gonna say to finish the job,” and you know he means, kill the fucker before he turns.

But you don't want Daryl to do it.

No, this is a job you can do.

Wordlessly, you pull yourself out of Daryl’s arms and walk towards Derek’s corpse. Everyone at the camp has gathered around now, too little too fucking late, but Rick tries to stop you from getting closer. You smack his hand away, and hold your palm out. It takes a minute, until Daryl finally orders Rick to give you what you want.

Rick hesitantly places a gun in your hand - and you shoot Derek in the head.

────

You’ve never killed someone who hasn’t turned yet. Derek was the first.

What scares you the most, is how little you care.

After what happened, you told Daryl everything that Derek said. You learned that night, from both Rick and Daryl, that the reason Derek was so horrible is because he wanted you - and how scary is that? What if he hurt you in another way once he had you on the ground? You’re lucky Rick forgot his gun and backpack on the run, that they had to turn around and come back to camp - the reason they got to you in time.

Rick assured you that you did the right thing. Which felt good, coming from the moral compass of the group. Everyone else was kind too, apologetic - you guess Derek scared more people into submission than you thought.

But Daryl was just pissed. More angry than you’d ever seen him. Throwing shit, breaking stuff - burning Derek the minute he dragged him a far enough distance from camp. Derek never even got a chance to turn.

Daryl threatened to leave the group with just you. It seemed like a good idea at first, until the reality that two people can’t survive on their own. No matter how resourceful, strong, and brave Daryl is.

But that meant a lot, that Daryl was trying - but the important thing is to survive.

The last few weeks, you’ve kept your head down. You clean, you help cook, you even take a few bites of whatever Daryl cooks because he pretty much forces you to - and because, secretly, you like how proud of you he looks when you try something new.

You just wish the world was different. But Daryl’s been amazing.

Rick’s been kind too. Everyone has, and maybe -

The sound of the zipper on your tent takes you out of your thoughts. You’re braiding your hair since you just washed it, but it’s proving to be a difficult task. You’re thankful for the distraction.

It’s Daryl.

“I already ate,” you tell him, worried that he’s bringing you some rodent that’s badly cooked. But you’re trying to be nice - he’s the only good thing in your world these days, so you soften your words. “Come inside and cuddle.”

Daryl squeezes inside the tent, and he leans on his side by your sleeping bag, just watching you. His head balanced on his hand, propped up on his elbow.

“Have somethin’ for you,” he says, not waiting for you to reply. In his hand is something wrapped in a tissue and you wonder what it is. He places it on your lap, and you look at him, excited but also a little upset.

“I told you to stop risking your life to get me things,” you scold, because everytime Daryl goes on a run, he finds things for you. Ribbons, hair clips, a pink toothbrush the other day. Lip gloss and lipstick (he knows the difference now), a pair of socks with little bows on them that are a size too big but still your favorite. He’s always saying how cute you are, how he thinks about you whenever he sees something pink.

It’s the best compliment ever.

You look to the other end of your sleeping bag, where a teddy bear Daryl found for you on a run a few weeks ago faces you both. It’s missing an eye, has the ribbon, the first gift he ever gave to you tied around its neck, and you love it so much that you sleep with it every night.

It’s definitely seen better days, and you don’t really know where he found it, but it’s so special to you - partly because Daryl gave it to you, and partly because it’s a little part of him that’s always with you. Part teddy bear, part security blanket - just like him.

It’s also a little scraggly. Sort of rough, dirty - but cuddly just the same. Kind of like Daryl. You move it a little closer.

Daryl groans in frustration and you almost roll your eyes at the dramatics. “Hush, lady, y’know I can take care of myself. ‘S nothing,” he nods to the thing on your lap, and you sigh and open the tissue.

It’s a cookie.

Your brows furrow, and you look at Daryl, all confused. “What,” you start, and he shrugs, sitting up. He rubs a hand down his face.

“Remembered what you said, about the cookies,” he’s sheepish, as if this isn’t the sweetest thing in the world. You gulp, trying not to cry at how touched you are, but you can’t help it. Tears brim at your waterline, and you wipe your eyes.

“Oh,” he scolds, letting out a huff. “Don’ cry. I just remembered what you said, is all. It’s probably not good anymore, but you’re my girl, and I want,” you smile even as tears run down your face.

“Your girl,” you hold that close to your heart, and Daryl nods, avoiding eye contact. You don’t care. You throw yourself into his arms.

His hug is warm, strong, and you feel the stress leave your body as he kisses your temple. He was listening, all those times you were talking.

Daryl Dixon, you think, the man that you are.

Your silence must be unexpected. He pulls away, watches your thumb brush over the most likely stale cookie he probably found on a run. You’re not really gonna eat it - but it’s the thought that counts.

“You talked about what ya miss, from before. But when I look back,” pretty blue eyes look at you. He cups your chin, presses his lips against yours.

You make a note to ask for chapstick for the both of you on the next run.

“Don’ cry, c’mon. You’re makin me soft,” he complains, even as he holds you closer. You want tell him that you can’t make him something he already is, but what he says next throws the sass right out of you. “When I look back, before I knew you,” he finishes shyly, “I just miss you, ya know?”

Daryl says that he’s not romantic, but he’s the most romantic man you've ever met. He’s a good person. He’s kind, and thoughtful, and even though he’s vague sometimes, too quiet for his own good - you know what he means.

You can’t believe there was a time you didn’t know - a time you didn’t love - this man. He’s everything to you.

And maybe, yeah - this world is hell. There’s death and decay and too much sadness to catch a break, but there’s one good thing in all of it. One thing so important to the both of you, that gives a little bit of meaning to this shitty, shitty world.

You found each other. You have each other.

You sniffle and nod, holding the cookie close, but Daryl even closer.

“Yeah,” you say, kissing his cheek softly. You feel him relax at your touch. “I’ve always missed you too, Daryl.”

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twdfemmefetal · 6 months ago

Text

LOOK AT ME

summary 🏹 you and daryl both feel the shift in your relationship now that you are in alexandria

word count 🏹 9.8k

warnings 🏹 large age gap, both reader and daryl are very unreliable narrators, various switching povs, morally gray characters and relationships.

there hadn’t been some significant event that changed the way daryl viewed you. he actually wasn’t sure if anything different happened at all or if his altered feelings were as new as they felt.

you’d always been somebody he cared for because he cared for everybody in the group, it felt like his purpose to atleast keep you all fed if he couldn’t do anything else. but that was about where your relationship ended.

he brought you food and occasionally little trinkets of things you’d mentioned in passing and you thanked him with a soft voice and big peering eyes that could haunt him in his sleep if he thought about them too hard.

you were always looking around with those same wide eyes when you first stumbled upon the group only a few days after they arrived to hershel’s farm.

it was easy for you to slip into the fold considering they were already going through constant changes, both in scenery and with how their mindsets shifted deeper into survival with every loss.

maggie and you became close friends considering you were so close in age and your upbringing being on a farm was just another reason for you both to disappear into your own shared world constantly.

he didn’t see you much but he thought about you often and there was always a split second before he shut it off and shoved it away where things might’ve been changing, at least thats what he assumed now.

there was a handful of things that he saw in a different light now that he looked back on it, maybe deluding himself so he felt less guilty or possibly wishfully thinking.

was it always so intimate when you talked on a shared shift of night watch, not even sitting close enough to touch but whispering into the dark and telling him things he wasn’t sure anybody else knew? did he make up the way your gaze always seemed to drift in his direction while making a group decision or when something went wrong?

the years passed without anything standing out in his mind about you and the way you interacted but that shifted as soon as you entered the walls of alexandria.

daryl knew something was wrong with him and he wasn’t going to attempt to deny or confront the issues at hand, content enough with how he’d handled his abrasive language and quickness to anger. it definitely wasn’t something he was going to try and police for the sake of the people behind these giant walls.

pure bitterness was building faster than he had realized it would and there wasn’t anybody being spared from both the people of alexandria and your own group members. he’d sneer at the way rick fawned for the attention of a house wife and the den mother role play carol had taken on almost made him feel like he lost a friend.

then there was you.

maybe you were taking it as slow as him or maybe you just always seemed to mold to your surroundings up until this point but he quickly understood he wasn’t the only one feeling so out of place.

you weren’t the biggest fan of any change let alone something this drastic but you really did try your best to get used to it and give it a solid chance. it felt selfish of you that you missed how the group was back when you took the prison together despite the exhaustion and the grief tolling over you, there was nothing you wouldn’t do for each other.

then the people of woodbury arrived and suddenly you were seeing less of the friends that you had split a single can over a week span with, the ones that had found you and welcomed you into their group with barely a second thought and the ones that helped build you into a survivor through that terrible winter on the road.

they were blending into a much larger crowd and you couldn’t find their faces at the lunch tables in between all the strangers so you took up eating in the watch tower.

there you could look out beyond the gates and pretend things were still the same, listening to the sounds of daryl working on his bike below you and wondering if he was avoiding the change too.

then the prison fell and you were on your own for a long time, longer than you think you’ve ever been alone before.

eventually you were stumbling upon carol and tyreese with judith and you opened your mouth just for no sound to come out. it took a long time for you to remember how to speak or maybe gather up the courage but they were patient with you and the four of you managed to get to where the universe needed you to be.

your first sound in what felt like years only bubbled past your lips when you saw a familiar frame leaning against a tree, not even realizing you had shouted his name until he was spinning around with a jolt.

his eyes softened and his entire body seemed to sink like he was wanting to curl into himself and for a second you wondered if you had forgotten something important about your relationship with him, the same something that led to you shouting his name and meeting him halfway for a hug that rattled the breath from every part of your lungs.

you considered the fact that this could very well be your first ever time deliberately touching let alone hugging like it was a common occurrence.

he was pulling back to look at you and the tears in his eyes mirrored your own, cupping his cheek for a few breaths before you let him welcome the others approaching slowly from behind you.

there was no talk of the interaction after that outside of a curious glance or two sent your way from the red headed man standing pointedly behind rick as you greeted him with a less warm hug.

you fell quickly into the routine of being on the road and surviving day to day and now it felt like woodbury citizens in the cafeteria all over again although this time, you were the fresh face.

your first few days in alexandria were spent sitting on the roof of one of the unused houses and looking out at the neighborhood, trying to memorize which clean cut couple belonged to which copy and pasted house. nobody ever seemed to notice your surveillance and if they did then they didn’t dare say anything about it.

deanna had asked in your intake interview if you were a student before the world ended, shed taken on a sweet and motherly tone that reminded you of overly antsy guidance counselors and your mouth curled into a grimace. she seemed thrown off by the bite on your words as you responded with something snarkier than you intended.

maybe it was after that that you finally noticed daryl again, almost as if it was the first time.

he was leaning against the stark white railing of your shared housing when you arrived back from the questioning, seemingly staring out at nothing other than the large metal gate surrounding you and blocking out the rest of the world.

you felt a surge of warmth when you took in the sight of him there, every bit as dirty and rugged as he had been when you were eating unspeakable things for days on end. he didn’t look like he had access to unheard of luxuries like a warm shower and the ability to relax his tense shoulders and the familiarity was intoxicating enough that you stalked your way up towards him.

his eyes drifted towards you without any shift of expression until he realized you weren’t going to pass him and head inside.

“can’t sleep?” you felt dumb for asking the question as soon as you heard it, already well aware of his problems with ever resting.

he didn’t react like it was stupid and actually gave you a quick nod instead of the typical grunt of agreement you had come to expect from him by now.

“me neither.” your voice was soft as always and he almost wanted to lean in to hear it better, like the wind would somehow be able to take it away before it could reach him.

there was a sickness settling low in his stomach that always seemed to creep up whenever he spent too long looking at you just like he was now, fascinated by both your clean skin and the way the moonlight played off of it.

it’s been such a long time since he saw you this put together that he almost couldn’t remember what it had been like, if you always had that mole near your eye or if your hair had gotten a shade or two lighter.

“you doing okay?” you moved closer to him as you asked and he didn’t let his gaze shift from you, like he was worried you’d disappear if he did for even a moment.

“s alright.” his response was about as informative as you expected it to be but you didn’t need to hear him say it out loud for you to understand what he was feeling, the look in his eyes loud and strikingly familiar.

there was a clear show of upset beneath the sea of blue and you could almost see the walls he was building up higher and higher every passing minute spent in the pristine neighborhood. looking at daryl this closely was like staring down a trapped tiger, only if you were inside the cage with him.

you weren’t sure why your hand was coming out to land on his arm, squeezing it in what you thought might’ve been reassurance.

his blue was darkening at that and you felt like there could have been a million reasons for why. none of them were strong enough that you removed your hand and you only stopped staring at each other when the front door was opening and rick was coming out on the porch.

you didn’t realize how close you’d gotten to him or how intimate the moment might have came across until you saw the look flash across ricks face, something suspicious and prying that made you feel like you got caught committing a crime. it didn’t help that it was possible somebody would consider what you were thinking fitting in that category.

while it wasn’t actually a crime, it was still taboo enough that you were instinctively taking a few steps back from the older man.

daryl on the other hand was completely rigid now that you weren’t alone anymore, worsening when carol was following behind rick and he suddenly felt very crowded. the animosity was building back up now that he saw them in their perfectly ironed clothes with that same look he’d caught from rick a handful of times before.

he loved rick like a brother and his opinion on him mattered more than he liked to admit, more like a dogs owner than a friend hence why he felt a strong wave of insecurity and resentment as he recognized the expression. it was the same one he had back when daryl was screaming at the wind and impulsively pulling his bow up to his forehead and the same one he had when he left with merle after woodbury.

the same one he had whenever they caught eyes after daryl had watched you for too long in a room full of other people.

the two started to talk and you watched as they roped daryl into a hushed conversation about the state of things and some concerns they had moving forward, most of it was lost on you considering you were watching the side of his face more than you were paying attention and before you knew it they were leaving again.

carol lingered by the door and she turned to give you a heavy look that you only slightly understood was her telling you she wanted you to follow her inside.

you were reluctant as you took a step forward but there was something in the back of your mind that knew it wasn’t a good idea to stay, sparing one last look at him over your shoulder before you were passing back through the door.

——

there was no shortage of whispers floating around through the people of alexandria and you weren’t sure if they were terrible at whispering or if they simply had no regard to the fact you clearly could hear them.

you ignored it all for the most part because you could sympathize with them just enough to excuse it, thinking of them as children who were getting used to a new routine which wasn’t too far off from the truth considering their abilities.

it only really seemed to strike a nerve in you when you heard what they said about daryl.

nobody seemed to actually know his name as they whispered and gossiped but you could tell who they were talking about easily based off description alone. the situation with glenn and deanna’s son certainly hadn’t helped his already lacking image, having to be held back by rick like he was a rabid dog waiting to snap.

you told yourself that the building roar of their sideways glances and disapproving looks was what lead you to seek him out again, no other reason.

he was harder to find this time, abandoning his post on your porch most likely due to how exposed it was to people walking past and attempting to make excruciating small talk.

eventually you managed to find him by the back corner of the wall, tucked behind some construction equipment with his back pressed against the metal that walkers were currently clawing at like they could somehow sense him sitting on the other side. his head was bowed as he fiddled with something wooden but you could tell he knew you were approaching.

his ears were too finely tuned for you to ever truly sneak up on him and you assumed he already learned all of your individual walking patterns a long time ago.

“there you are.” you still decided to make yourself known officially as you slid down the wall to sit beside him, feeling the grate of the metal pressing into your back uncomfortably. you knew he wasn’t out here seeking comfort so you didn’t bother adjusting your position at all. “was starting to think you scaled the wall or something.”

he didn’t even look up at you when you spoke or sat down but now he was sending a glance your way and scoffing a halfway laugh at your attempt to joke around.

his shoulders seemed to tense when made eye contact and although he had initially planned to look away it was almost like his brain had different ideas.

the sun had started to set only a few minutes ago so the golden warmth was taking over your features and that familiar sick feeling was creeping back up inside of him. he still couldn’t quite place what it was sourcing from, maybe guilt at where his mind commonly went when looking at you or possibly just pure longing raking through his system.

“you found me.” his voice was as low as it always the was but for some reason it had you practically preening, his thick accent surpassing your light twang by miles and reminding you of just how backwood raised he truly was.

you wondered if there would ever come a time where it would make sense for you to tell him just how much you appreciated the slice of home you found in little things like the words he used or small gestures.

you couldn’t help but ponder further about a time you could show him just how much you liked a man who knew how to handle himself with a little dirt and grime. there was little you found more attractive than a truly southern boy but a southern man was just about as dead on as it got.

“let me find you more?” your head titled at the suggestion and his eyes squinted just enough for your lip to curl up in amusement. you thought you were smooth with the way your hand landed on his forearm like you were scolding him for the expression but both of you felt the weight of the decision to leave it resting there. “i know it’s been hard to adjust.”

“ain’t hard.” he was quick to bite back and deny the idea of him having a difficult time, something nasty settling in his chest at the thought of you finding him weak or incapable.

your eyebrows moved in a way that told him you didn’t believe him but you didn’t bother verbally disagreeing. your hand was moving lightly up his arm and stopping to cup his elbow for a few seconds, shifting it so he would put down the wood stick he was carving into an arch.

he surprised you by letting you move him and placing his knife on the ground so you could touch him easier, innocent enough with just your hand caressing up to his bicep but the look in your eyes was anything but.

“was such a shame that rick came outside last night.” your voice was almost a whisper now and he stayed silent and still as he let you speak, almost like a confessional. you didn’t need to give anymore context around the statement but you wanted to make sure there was no room for misinterpretation. “ive always liked being alone with you.”

daryl found that ironic because he couldn’t really think of a time that you had been alone together and that was something he didn’t think he would forget easily.

it was almost embarrassing how willing he was to let you touch him now when he probably would have been halfway across the neighbor by now if you’d tried this a few months ago, eyes darting around to make sure nobody had seen the two of you even conversing let alone touching.

maybe it was the loneliness you both shared while adjusting to your new world or maybe it was the fact that he was being judged already but it seemed like a door had been opened now.

“why’s that?” he knew he shouldn’t have opened it any wider with the question but he was almost aching to hear your answer, hear anything that would solidify he wasn’t alone in this.

“you look at me different when we’re alone.” you sounded so sure in your words that he figured it must be true although he might’ve believed anything you said right now, especially since your hand had been squeezing the width of his bicep while you whispered.

he should’ve felt sick at the confirmation that you had noticed what he’d been both ignoring and actively attempting to stop but instead he was stuck in a cloudy haze of willingness to do anything you asked him to.

you weren’t as bent out of shape about this as he was but you supposed there was less consequences on your end. you were the young one between you, innocent and taken advantage of if anything went wrong although you had quickly pieced together that daryl more accurately fit that role.

when rick gave that heavy look last night and the times before, it wasn’t you that he was judging and it wasn’t you that was getting the silent warning to not go through with whatever it was that would happen.

you wondered if it would matter to him to see how the two of you looked now, you slightly leaning onto the older man with a predatory look in your eye while he was nearly shaking from a light touch on his arm.

there was no response to your words and you didn’t wait around for one, relishing in how easy it was to get him to fall silent.

“do you want to know how i look at you?” your low purr was getting to him now and he almost started to think he might’ve not woken up this morning, still back at the house sleeping on the couch and imagining a world where you’d be touching him and whispering this close to his face.

he was quick to nod stiffly but you could see his eyes flash with both expectation and nervousness.

“i think you could make me feel good, better than anybody else here could at least.” you didn’t bother building up to it, wanting him to know how you felt with no more room for misinterpreting. “i look at you like you’re a pervert because i am one too.”

his chest tightened at the use of the word and the way your lips looked forming it, you knew you’d gone too far when you felt him tensing under your touch but it only brought your smile further up on your lips. it would be a lot easier if he were to just accept the fact that this was wrong yet he still wanted it and you could jumpstart that by speaking the unspoken.

daryl was furrowing his eyebrows and cocking his head like you’d wounded him and you stayed seated as he grunted before shifting so he could stand up, looking back at the houses before glancing towards you again.

he surprised you by offering you a hand up and you accepted it, letting him pull you and shamelessly stumbling into his chest.

there was no more words spoken between you and you followed him back to the neighborhood, feeling almost like you’d been scolded by his silence. it was hard for you to care completely considering your firm belief that he would let you do what you wanted regardless but it didn’t necessarily feel good to upset him.

you stayed directly behind him when you approached the house, sneakily grabbing onto his wrist and pulling it behind him so you could hold his hand. he didn’t even spare you a glance back but now the limb was dangling between your bodies and you smiled at the back of his head.

he was shocking himself by not immediately snatching his hand away when he felt your skin touching his again, now in a much more damning area where anybody could walk by and see.

he wondered if they’d possibly think something else first, maybe he was your mentor and you had a close relationship or possibly some actual relation between you. his mouth turned down in a scowl when he remembered what type of man he looked like and what people assumed about him off of a first view.

it made him sicker to realize that he was proving them all right.

you cut in front of him so you could enter the door first and he instinctively brought a hand down to your waist so you didn’t bump into each other, guiding you inside and ignoring the light giggle you let out at the contact.

he was surprised when you tended up and froze just past the doorway, his chest colliding with your back. although it wasn’t hard enough to knock you over, he still placed his other hand across from the first to steady you in place and help you get your balance.

it wasn’t until both of his hands were holding onto your hips that he realized you weren’t alone in the living room and you had frozen because of the multiple pairs of eyes on you.

rosita and tara barely looked like they processed the two of you standing there let alone cared about your usual closeness and abraham had an almost amused look in his eye at the way daryl was racing to put his hands back at his side and step backwards against the door to put some distance between you.

the fourth expression was not as forgiving and you felt a pit in your stomach as you looked at carol and her stone cold stare.

you couldn’t quite read her but you were wrestling between it being disgust or disappointment, either way she clearly wasn’t happy about whatever it was that had been slowly building up since you arrived.

would it matter if you tried to explain to her how you’d always been curious about the older man and it was driving you past the point of crazy to ignore it? could her opinion sway if you told her about the ache in your chest every time he went away for too long and how the only thing that stopped your overwhelming loneliness in this new place was how familiar he felt.

she didn’t need to know the perversion behind your every action because it was rooted in something deeper.

you didn’t just want daryl, you felt like you needed him or you atleast needed him to keep looking at you the way he did. never in your life had a man made you feel like he craved you just from a glance, putting you on a pedestal without ever actually praising you.

he was clearing his throat gruffly behind you and you could hear him going to step out from being your frame, an embarrassed heat waving through you that sent you speed walking upstairs and away from the peering eyes.

——

carol was locked in her own thoughts now as she moved through her days with a practiced smile and the faux lightness of a woman who hadn’t done the things she had.

her mind was almost too occupied to keep up her act around the alexandrians so she found herself at the house more often although the setting only made her feel more on edge.

she felt like she was reviewing years worth of catalogs and searching for hidden easter eggs that she must have missed back then due to grief, exhaustion or sheer ignorance. then again was it ignorance to trust the intentions of the people around you?

despite actively thinking back on your every interaction, she couldn’t think of a time where she had ever seen a fleeting touch or a heavy glance that made her gut sink like it had recently. she wondered if she was just placing more importance to it now that there was years worth of down time, boredom creeping up inside her for the first time since the beginning.

maybe it was possible that the gossiping housewives and lack of immediate danger was getting to her and there was no longing in the way her friend looked at you.

she figured she must be right when a few days passed without seeing you so much as speaking to daryl. even when the entire core of the group was standing close and discussing important paths and angles, she never noticed your eyes drifting in his direction like she had before.

there was no harm in you having a small crush on the older man in fact she had found it sort of cute back when she would catch you watching him a bit too heavily at the prison or the hours she’d see you pacing nervously as he went out hunting.

she’d even gone as far as to tease daryl about it on a watch shift one night, elbowing his side softly and raving about his secret admirer.

he had sent a light hearted glare her way before mumbling that she stops, tone in the air more humorous than as if he’d been caught in something. she hadn’t thought twice about it then and she felt guilt for doing so now when nothing had really changed.

carol had just begun to doubt herself enough to push the thoughts from her mind fully when she turned a street corner and suddenly saw you there.

at first it was just you, small frame and big peering eyes that always made you look even younger than you already were. you looked relaxed and almost amused, certainly not like somebody who was doing something wrong so she nearly doubled over in shock when she took a few steps further.

and there it was.

the moment clicked in her head and solidified something she’d been afraid to ever say outside of her own mind.

daryl was standing infront of you and he wasn’t touching you but the look in his eyes was more than enough, not to mention the fact he was allowing your hand to be placed on his chest with your fingers rubbing over the loose thread on the hem of his vest.

the act could’ve been innocent flirting or even just a routine show of closeness if it was between anybody else but he was staring down at you like there was nothing else in the world that mattered and she didn’t even want to picture what your gaze was saying in return.

somebody was calling her name from down the street and she turned instinctively with a warm smile, pushing down the darkness that had just hit her hard in the stomach as quickly as it came.

——

daryl didn’t seem to mind the fact that you’d been ignoring him for a handful of days and you were starting to wonder if there was anything you could do that would upset him.

hed barely reacted when you cornered him on one of the stairways as he was passing by, not seeing you sitting there just off in the shadows until he was feeling a hand wrap softly around his wrist to tug him backwards.

panic had ripped through him and his entire body squared up like he was ready to fight before he heard your soft laughter, spinning around so he could see you and ignoring the amused look you were sending him.

he knew that you knew better than to grab him out of nowhere like that but you clearly didn’t care, liking how easily he got riled up and how quickly he jumped straight to defensive.

you were pulling him in with a hand on his vest and he did nothing but watch you, holding him in place once you got him as close as you wanted. the point of your boots was touching his and you had to crane your neck to look at him, smiling when you saw he was already looking back and not avoiding your gaze.

“do i make you nervous?” your voice was quiet and you were asking it in a way that somebody could assume you meant just now with the way you had grabbed him but he knew better.

he was shaking his head swiftly and you watched his familiar habit of biting the inside of his lip. you were curious if he ever wanted to say more than he did or if he preferred the short responses that always left you prying for more.

“did you miss me?” your eyes seemed somehow wider than they already were normally and he knew right away that he was trapped in them. your hand slid under the leather of his vest and even though he still had a shirt separating your touch, it felt overly intimate. “i missed you.”

“didn’t go nowhere.” his low tone vibrated your hand on his chest and you pouted up at him, hearing him sigh softly like he wasn’t sure what he was meant to say to please you.

instead of saying anything he opted for something that came easier, bringing a hand to your lower back despite the way his heart started to beat sickeningly fast. your shirt was tight enough that it had slightly ridden up on your stomach and he could feel the bare skin above the hem of your jeans, his thumb instinctively rubbing over the smoothness.

“that’s not the point.” you knew you were whining slightly but you couldn’t bring yourself to care especially since it seemed like he almost liked it.

a door was opening and shutting somewhere nearby and you had half the mind to take a few steps back from him, smiling widely when he immediately followed you. being this close to eachother was addicting and you were glad to see he was starting to care less about being caught by somebody.

“can we talk later?” you knew your face was getting far too close to his but he couldn’t think of anything outside of your breath on his cheek and your leg almost in between his as you leaned against the wall.

“can talk now.” he was desperate for even a few more seconds with you and didn’t care if it was pathetic to be his age and practically salivating for something as simple as a tension filled talk.

“i know that.” you huffed and he was suddenly reminded of how cute you were. it was easy to forget amidst all of your lustful eyes and the low purr your voice had almost permanently taken on but there it was again. “i was thinking something a bit more private.”

private meant that you wouldn’t be looking over his shoulder like a sudden judging crowd might’ve gathered and private also meant he wouldn’t have to think twice if he wanted to do something.

he was nodding albeit hesitantly both because he wasn’t necessarily sure what he was agreeing to and because he didn’t want the conversation to end already.

you either picked up on that or you simply felt the same on your end because you were still standing there and watching him, keeping a hand on his chest but using the other one to brush some of his hair out of his face.

it felt ridiculous and extremely juvenile but he liked it and you knew he did. you were completely fascinated by the dynamic you’d taken on and you smiled at him before using your hand on his chest to push him backwards.

he allowed you to move him and he stumbled a bit over his own feet, barely collecting himself by the time you were giving him one more smile and passing him. he spun around to watch you leave and he let out a sigh when you didn’t look back.

——

your plans to talk to daryl privately were slightly pushed back by the sudden announcement of a party for your group and the towns people to mingle.

nobody else seemed as thrown off by the news so you figured it had been something that was previously mentioned and you had ignored. you had zero intentions on actually preparing for it and attending but rick gave you a knowing glare and sternly told you everybody needed to be there.

you supposed there wouldn’t be many more occasions that required you to put on a pretty dress and drink something cheap and nasty so you went.

you actually managed to trick yourself into having a good time for the first hour even though people who attempted to converse with you quickly realized your biting tone and harsh words didn’t at all match your friendly and youthful face.

it took a handful of older women walking away from you with sour expressions before your leader was approaching you.

“are you trying to scare them off?” he seemed like he was joking but you knew there was some warning to his words, sighing softly and shrugging.

“im not but it’s ridiculous. they all talk to me like im a child.” you realized how ironic it was that you were upset about such a thing while practically whining to him but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

rick gave you another stern look and you felt even more pouty now that you were being scolded, suddenly feeling extremely out of place in your tight dress and clean hair. you missed the ache in your muscles after a hard day and the exhaustion that would easily take you to sleep.

it was hard being surrounded by people who had the luxury of tossing and turning and feeling confident enough to approach a stranger at a party.

“im going to get some air.” you felt like the room around you had lost all oxygen and luckily rick seemed to preoccupied by the sight of one of the neighborhood wives and her husband to convince you to stay and try some more.

there was very little in your way from the wall you’d been leaning on to the front door but it still felt like miles before you made it outside, immediately taking a deep breath in and shaking your head at yourself.

your gaze shot up to some movement in the trees across the street and you froze when you saw his familiar frame there lurking, clearly not expecting anybody to come out and see him before he could make his escape.

you were quick to make your way down the stairs and cross the asphalt to him, stopping in the middle of the street to take off your heels with a groan. daryl watched you as you got closer and didn’t at all question why you were throwing your arms around his neck and bringing him in for a hug.

it was probably the first time you’d ever hugged so intentionally and you frowned into his neck when you noticed how clean he smelt.

“you showered?” you were pulling your head away from the warmth of his skin to look at him, faces close enough that your nose bumped against his when you spoke.

he grunted slightly like he wasn’t sure how to answer your question but you were already looking down and studying his outfit. it was everything daryl typically wore but suddenly his buttons were done all the way and his vest looked like he’d at least attempted to scrub some of the debris off.

“oh.” your mouth parted and he looked away from you in embarrassment, for the first time wishing you would let go of him and stop looking at him that way. “you look hot.”

your words were far too blunt and he scoffed out a laugh before lightly pushing you off of him, suddenly remembering you were very much visible to anybody who left the party or even looked out the front window for too long. you frowned at him but it was lighthearted, wrapping your hands around his arm and hugging it against you.

he followed you when you started to drag him forward and now the two of you were walking together with his arm pinned to your chest.

“you clean up nice dixon but i kind of miss the dirt.” you were still talking and you could almost feel him rolling his eyes, smiling at yourself and the fact he was willing to be seen with you so publicly.

not everybody was at the party and it was very likely you’d cross paths with someone on your way home but there you were, holding onto his arm and both dressed nicely like you were coming home from a date night.

you almost scowled when you heard a voice coming from one of the porches, feeling daryl immediately tense up like he had only just realized what you’d been thinking about the entire time. you squeezed his arm tighter so he wouldn’t be able to pull away and you planted a fake smile on your face as you turned to face aaron.

you’d barely heard what he was saying but you could feel daryl talking stiffly due to how close you were standing, catching on that you were being invited inside for dinner.

somehow instead of getting to be alone with daryl you were now sitting across from aaron and his boyfriend who kept sending you big awkward smiles while you tried your best not to glare at them.

you knew the man next to you had quite a reputation but the couple was thrown off by your demeanor now that they were finally actually interacting with you. it was almost cute how much you were like a disgruntled cats of sorts, making the archer seem something close to friendly in comparison.

you let the three of them talk amongst themselves while you silently ate the (admittedly delicious) spaghetti.

“how long have you been together?”

that caused your head to snap up and finally check in to the conversation, looking between the two and waiting for the punch line to roll out. you were confused when you were only greeted by an expectant silence and gentle curious gazes.

there was no disgust behind the words or hidden intentions to trap you into a confession of sorts. the pair almost seemed like the were excited by the idea of you being a couple.

“what?” daryl had stopped eating and responded before he even swallowed the noodles in his mouth, tone low and dangerous like he was daring them to repeat it.

“oh im sorry we just assumed.” aaron looked genuinely apologetic of what his boyfriend had said and your eyebrows furrowed together, nudging daryl harshly under the table. “you seem so close.”

“we are.” it was the first thing you’d said all night and all three pairs of eyes turning towards you looked surprised. “we’ve been together almost since the beginning.”

it technically wasn’t a lie considering that was when you had met and started to be together in a sense but you knew it wasn’t what they had meant. you felt a light amusement when you saw the way daryl was looking at you, pure panic behind the mask of a still face and you gripped his hand that was resting on the table to really drive the idea home.

“i think it’s wonderful. the end of the world bringing unlikely pairs together.” aarons boyfriend didn’t seem to know when to shut his mouth and you almost admired the ability. it took a sort of bravery to be so socially checked out and you winced at him while attempting to smile.

you wondered what he meant by unlikely and if he knew how insulting it sounded at first. did he say that because your obvious age difference or was it something else?

daryl cleared his throat and while anyone else would assume he was going to finally speak, you knew better and could tell he was simply feeling uncomfortable.

apparently aaron did too because he was quick to change the subject and you were once again tuning out the conversation and going back to your food, not even realizing how much time had passed until it was time to leave.

daryl didn’t argue when you grabbed his hand on the way out the door and you managed to smile and wave at the couple who came out onto the porch to watch you go.

he let you practically drag him back to the house and you were relieved to see the lights still off inside, clambering up the porch and standing still for a few seconds in the entryway in an attempt to hear if anybody was home.

silence replied back to you and you turned to look at him, once again struck by how handsome he looked dressed up for the night. you could tell he didn’t want to look like he had made an effort but you knew it was all intentional and that daryl secretly wanted to be the type of guy who attended the party.

maybe you could delude yourself into thinking he wanted to go solely because you were going to be there.

you grabbed both of his hands in yours and pulled him further into the house, bumping against the kitchen wall but still tugging until he was pressing against you.

you’d had every intention to actually speak him tonight and explain why you’d been avoiding him and what you wanted to do moving forward but it was almost like the universe was telling you to forget about everything when it put him in this outfit.

his eyes darkened when your hand went to cup his cheek, the other in his hair and running through it softly. you were glad you hadn’t turned the big lights on because he looked particularly alluring only lit by the orange dusted lamp in the corner.

“why’d you lie to aaron.” his voice was cutting through your thoughts and you paused to look over his curious expression. you felt like it was your first time hearing him speak every time you did and you wondered when that feeling would go away.

“it’s fun to pretend.” your answer was simple enough and seemed to satisfy him for now because he just hummed back at you and subconsciously leaned against your palm that was warm on his cheek. “don’t you think so?”

he didn’t say anything but you didn’t want him to and you were leaning forward until your nose was bumping his again like it had earlier.

daryl was bringing a hand to your side and your mouth parted at the feeling of him squeezing it, nodding your head in encouragement and getting dizzy over how close you were right now.

your lips ghosted over his but you didn’t kiss him just yet, reclining and soaking up the way he immediately followed your mouth forward in an attempt to keep you close. you were practically stamped against the wall and his heavy weight against you was causing a low heat to simmer in your gut.

“cmon.” the unexpected encouragement from him was all you needed to finally surge forward and bring your lips onto his.

you let out an immediate whine both at the taste of him and the fact his hands were wrapping around your lower back to tug you impossibly closer in a surge of desire now that you were finally kissing. your mouths moved together feverishly and there was no room for romance, pure desperation and built up want being let out.

your head was turning to allow him better access and he grateful took it, a low noise coming from his chest when your tongue was swiping against his bottom lip.

it was addicting to be here with him like this and you knew right away that this was going to become a real problem. you weren’t sure it was possible to ever stop kissing him let alone keep it only for the rare times you got to be alone together.

you were already risking everything by doing it in such an open place with the chance of anybody returning at any given moment now that the night was coming to an end but there was no world where you could stop to relocate.

daryl was kissing you harder and harder like he was trying to bring you back from your thoughts and you whined softly again, setting off an entirely new monster in him that he decided to deal with later on.

“don’t stop.” your voice was breathy and wanting but the sound of it made him pause, hearing the high tone and the innocence hidden under your sensual drag.

you frowned at his sudden hesitance after an entire night of finally playing along with your desire but you weren’t going to give up that easy, bringing your lips to his jaw and moaning softly at the feeling of his stubble on your tongue.

it was driving you crazy to be with somebody as manly as he was and you were once again reminded of the differences between you. your small frame was completely covered by his broad shoulders and his hands felt rough and weathered on your smooth skin, size difference alone being enough to fan the familiar heat in your stomach.

“fuck please just kiss me.” you were pulling your lips away from his hot skin to look at him and you could see the inner conflict, almost feel it coming off of him in harsh waves. “you’ve got me, right here where i know you want me. just take it.”

he was kissing you again and it was halfway just to shut you up before he couldn’t control himself anymore, attempting to simultaneously silence the guilt eating away at him.

was it as wrong if you were here begging for it like you’d die if he didn’t give you what you wanted? maybe he wasn’t as disgusting for simply doing what you asked him so nicely to do.

there was very little that could happen right now that could make you pull away from him and you were starting to think you wouldn’t care if your entire group walked in right now and caught you pinned against the wall.

he was plagued with the thoughts of this potentially being your first ever kiss and then immediately disgusted with himself when he realized he really liked that idea.

daryl was not a bad man and he’d been repeating it to himself since the moment you started wearing short shorts in the summer and lingering near him far too often. he wasn’t a bad man but he wasn’t a particularly strong one either so he gave you exactly what you wanted.

——

it hadn’t gone too far past making out with an excessive amount of heavy petting before the sounds of tipsy laughter approaching the house tore you away from eachother but you caught his eye as you fell asleep that night and fell asleep easily.

things sped up from there and daryl felt constantly overwhelmed by your presence, never getting used to the way you’d drag him around a corner to get a few kisses in or the way you’d touch his side as you passed by.

your group was settling into their new roles and he was finding himself constantly occupied by thoughts of you to the point where he couldn’t care about anything else.

he’d barely even flinched at news of a run gone slightly sour and his jaw didn’t twitch when he heard snide remarks being passed his way. nothing mattered the second your encapsulating gaze met his and it was starting to worry him.

rick must have noticed something was wrong because he started to check in on him more, firm hand on his shoulder as he asked for the dozenth time if he was actually alright. he couldn’t figure out what was bugging his friend but he knew it must be serious.

it was almost comical how he didn’t even have half an idea just how serious it really was.

he figured he possibly had gone crazy when he saw you talking to one of the men from alexandria. he didn’t know his name and it certainly didn’t matter now because all he cared about was the way you were playing up your soft giggles and peering up with those familiar big eyes.

the man was clearly younger than daryl but still far too old to be looking at you the way he was (he was aware of the irony of this thought).

it was possible you weren’t trying to flirt and just making conversation with your sweet tone that would trick anybody into thinking they were special but daryl had a front row seat to what a lonely man thought while looking down at you like that and his stomach turned.

he hadn’t felt pure rage like this in a long time, maybe ever, and it was reminiscent of some part of his genetics he had tried to kill off and bury.

did you not care he was watching you from the seat of his motorcycle? there was no way you simply were ignorant to the fact because you had to know he was always watching.

all it took to get him to swing his leg off the bike and storm his way over to you was the mans hand touching your elbow and your eyebrows furrowing slightly at the unwanted touch. daryl was pushing his way between him and you before you even processed he was there and you could see his anger from his back alone.

“back up.” his voice was the lowest you’d heard it and you froze a bit at the realization he was genuinely upset.

“woah buddy relax.” the man didn’t seem at all willing to stand down from the situation and you started to feel a flutter of panic, hand reaching forward to grab daryl’s bicep and flinching slightly when he roughly shrugged you off of him.

you were peering around the side of his large frame to see the other man clearly sizing him up with a look of disgust and amusement on his face. it was obvious he didn’t find daryl worthy of whatever connection to you he had and you started to look around you with a flustered expression.

relief surged through you when you saw rick and abraham taking notice of how close the two were standing and as soon as your leader saw your face he was quickly speed walking over to you.

“touch her again. see what happens to you.” the threat was obvious and daryl didn’t bother pretending he was above hurting the man, not even caring that rick and abe were close enough to catch what he was growling out now.

rick was pushing a hand against his chest and sending him a few steps backwards, narrowly missing you as abraham helped lightly pull out of the way. your feelings were hurt a little when he didn’t attempt to remove his friends touch like he had yours but you figured now wasn’t the time to get upset over such a small detail.

“we’re not doing this.” his voice was as strong and commanding as it always was and you felt immediately scolded when he turned to glare at you briefly.

he wasn’t quite getting the full scope of the situation but it was finally hitting him now that there was something much deeper between you and the archer than he had previously understood.

“tell her guard dog.” the man from before, almost forgotten by you in the tense moment, was eager to get another jab in and your mouth parted almost prematurely as daryl went to lunge at him with an angry grunt.

abraham was quick to grab the guy and restrain him while rick did his best to keep daryl on his side of the scuffle and your hands came up to your mouth in shock, not seeing such a blatant display of aggression from him in a long time.

rick sent you a stern look that you immediately took as an order and you swallowed harshly before moving forward and wrapping your hands around his arm again, grateful that he didn’t force you off of him again.

you almost wished he had because the frustration and hurt in his face when he turned to look at you broke your heart and he was storming off before you even had a chance to speak.

you were just as quick to follow behind him witn quiet shouts of his name, not wanting to draw anymore attention to yourselves than what you already had.

he didn’t stop walking until he was in between two of the empty houses, pacing back and forth and breathing so heavily his entire chest was heaving. you frowned seeing him in this state and you let him have a few seconds before you were approaching him again.

“daryl.” your voice was soft and his head snapped over to you immediately, seeing your concern and stepping towards you so he could hold your face in his large hands.

he was almost inspecting you like he wasn’t sure you were okay and you felt ridiculous considering nothing had actually happened to you. you’d been the one to upset him and almost get him hurt (even though you imagined he would have had that guy on his ass in seconds if rick hadn’t shown up).

“im sorry, we were just talking and he must’ve gotten the wrong idea.” truthfully you knew better and knew what you were saying wasn’t the full story. you really had been innocently talking to the man in an attempt to borrow some spare parts for daryl’s bike project but you knew what men thought of you.

“not your fault.” his voice was quiet and you felt overwhelming relief to hear him finally talking in that sweet tone he reserved just for you. “dudes a pig.”

he was still cupping your face and you had to practically push against his hands to be able to lean up and kiss him, sweetly moving your lips against his without any real heat behind it.

you smiled into the kiss when he stumbled backwards and took you with him, bumping into his chest when his back hit the wall of the house. then his hands were moving to your waist and that low heat was back tenfold.

“so sexy how you protect me.” your voice was breathy from kissing and you opened your eyes to look into his as you spoke, wanting him to see the heat in your gaze. your hand was smoothing over his stomach and you could feel him harshly inhaling. “would you have hurt him?”

he didn’t respond right away but he grabbed your face again to bring you back in for another brushing kiss and you whined softly at the sudden force behind it, moving sloppily against each other to keep up the pace.

his other hand moved from your waist down to the hem of your shorts, high on your thigh and granting him an overdosing amount of skin to grab onto when he was gripping the back of it and bringing it up to rest on his hip.

“would you have killed him for me?” your eyes looked manic when you pulled off again to question him more firmly, not letting him distract you without an answer this time around.

he felt a surge of confusion at your sudden intense line of questioning and then he noticed how quick your breath was and how you were having a hard time keeping your hips still against his, quickly realizing what it was that was happening to you.

you were actually turned on by the thought of him hurting somebody for you.

every part of him knew he should be alarmed by that and he definitely should not find it as enticing as he did but it was impossible considering he knew his answer as soon as you had asked it.

“anything.” he wasn’t a man of many words but you knew exactly what he meant and you smiled at him, nodding in approval before you were kissing him again.

he wasn’t sure if he felt relaxed knowing that he couldn’t scare you off with admitting a thing like that or if there was something wrong with him, something important that he was lacking inside himself that didn’t immediately cause him to push you off and tell you not to ask him questions like that.

the truth was that he had meant what hed said with every fiber of his being and he knew long before he accepted it that he would do absolutely anything to keep you safe, to keep you feeling good and keep you looking at him the way you did.

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twdfemmefetal · 7 months ago

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You Gotta Be Shittin Me, Right?

Daryl x Reader Smut Warning! 18+ Only! NSFW

Request: Hey, idk if this has been requested but I watched a behind the scenes thing for TWD and the director was talking about Daryl’s sexual situation and he said he thought he was a virgin bc he felt he wasn’t the type of person to get close enough w someone to have sex w them so if u have the time could u please write a smut where it’s Daryl’s first time and the reader takes his virginity and he’s like shy and nervous bc he doesn’t wanna be bad at it?

Summary: I really loved this idea. Can you imagine? Daryl is a virgin and the reader takes his virginity during a night on watch. Season 3. Prison. Season 3. Prison. This one got long, enjoy!

—–

You looked over and watched the man that was the center of all your thoughts since you had joined Rick’s group at the prison. You watched as Daryl’s strong arms pierced a steel rod swiftly through the chain linked fence and connect with walker’s face, on the other side. You stared at his determined clenched jaw and his eyes focused straight ahead at the task in front of him. He heaved his body back and then forth again, piercing another. You watched him as he worked in the steaming heat, although it never seemed to slow you him down. He was a hard-working man.

You had had feelings for Daryl since nearly the minute you had arrived at the prison. You had been rescued from some walkers by Maggie and Glenn and taken into the prison. You had only been here for a few weeks, but you had wasted no time at all getting to know people. Maggie and Glenn made sure to introduce you around to everyone and always invited you to eat with them and the others. You, yourself, were used to being a loner. But, you thought it was nice that they tried to include you.

Every meal the entire group would gather around a large table in the middle of the cell block. They would all laugh and talk merrily with each other. Maggie had told her that things had become peaceful for the group again after setting up the prison encampment. It had been a long time since any of them had a chance to relax a little and call a place home again. You had never had much of a home even in the old world, you were orphaned as a young girl and spent most of your life in the foster care system. You learned really young how to protect yourself, you had to, and this world wasn’t any different.

You looked back over at Daryl working the fence and rubbing your neck, peering at the man curiously. You had been here for nearly two weeks and the man had barely said a word to anyone. He worked his ass off and was one of the most respected from what you had gathered. You wondered why he was so silent. You wondered if he had had a similar life as you before all this. You had known kids who simply, “shut off,” after being in the system so long. He seemed like such a good guy and in this world that was rare. You smiled a little to yourself, taking him in and letting your eyes wander gratuitously up and down his gorgeous frame. He was so damn beautiful to look at. You thought to yourself as you bite your lip and roam his unsuspecting body.

“I wouldn’t go workin’ too hard on that crush of yours, Y/N.”

Your body froze, recognizing Rick’s voice. He walked up beside you and stood shoulder to shoulder with you. He stared straight ahead at Daryl and then cocked his head to the side, looking over at you with a slight grin.

You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about,” you said jokingly, dropping your eyes to the ground awkwardly.

Rick chuckles and drops his head, hands on his hips as he laughed and shook his head.

“Alright. If that’s how you wanna play it…,” he said smirking and lifting his eyes back to you.

“Just so you know, Daryl ain’t like the rest of us… He’s different,” Rick kicked his boot into the ground a time or two staring down at his actions.

“What do you mean?” you asked curiously.

Rick nodded a few times and stared back over at his best friend, “He had a hard life, even before all of this.” Rick’s hand waved around wildly for emphasis before landing back on his hip. He stares over at you seriously.

“All I’m sayin’ is if you are lookin’ to get friendly with Daryl, be prepared. He doesn’t talk easily with people. Takes him some time,” Rick stared at Daryl hard at work as he speaks to you.

You smiled over at Rick, you could tell he really cared for the man he spoke of.

You looked back over at the attractive redneck and huff to yourself. “What do you talk to a man like that about?” you asked this to yourself, nearly forgetting Rick was right beside you, lost in your thoughts.

Rick chuckled a little and kicked the ground again before looking over at you and cocking his head.

He smiled. “Don’t suppose you know anything about huntin’ squirrel?” he said laughing to himself.

You laughed a little to yourself and dropped your head, embarrassed. You looked back over at Daryl manning the fence and sighed “This is going to be tougher than I thought,” you said again to yourself.

Rick slapped your back a couple of times and said, “He is thick about certain things, sure. But, he’s still a man.” Rick looked at you smiling and cocking his eyebrow up as he continued to spoke, “Certain signals you just can’t miss if you’re catching my drift.” He wiggled his eyebrow playfully and suggestively at you. You laughed and slapped his arm.

“Rick!” you exclaimed, astonished to hear such a suggestion from the stoic cowboy.

He laughed, relaxing his whole body. He shoved his shoulder into yours, causing your body to rocket to the other side as you catch your balance. You laughed again, loving the playful side of a man you had always thought of as way too serious.

Rick continued to laugh another moment before staring back at you, his eyes still gleaming.

“Why don’t I give you and Daryl night duty tonight? Give ya a chance to get acquainted?” Rick asked, peering at you curiously, his eyes completely serious again.

Keep reading

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twdfemmefetal · 8 months ago

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

Gif found on Pinterest unknown credit

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

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

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

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

He'd started flirting with you to appease Merle, the man who'd instantly noticed how you swooned around Daryl. The younger Dixon didn't believe him, of course, but he approached you to avoid the harsh blows of Merle calling him a ‘belly-up pussy’ along with more distasteful slurs.

His way of “flirting” was a lot like Merles at first. Offensive, inappropriate, you know the rest. You'd been patient enough to politely explain that you weren't like the type of women that would fuck Merle after he called them a 'sweet piece of Georgian ass', and he took the hint.

Daryl was shockingly sweet after that. He was less verbal after learning vulgar compliments weren't the way to go, but it turned out alright for you in the end. He began looking after you like you were his full responsibility. Making sure you were fed first, bringing home clothes specifically for you, along with any other treats he thought you might like.

It was great, aside from him never making a move on you. He gawked like you were an alien when you started dressing for his gaze, Bobby Brooks shorts, pretty tank tops, even shaving your legs once in a while. But he never made a move.

That simply wouldn't do.

It was late one night and you'd slipped into his tent.

“The hell you doin'?” He cursed, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you zipped up the flap behind you.

“Can't sleep, Carl won't stop coughing.”

You'd been sharing a tent with Lori and Carl ever since you arrived with T-Dog. It wasn't a complete lie, Carl was coughing up a storm, sick with some chest cold, but that wasn't the reason for your lack of sleep.

“I got some earplugs.” He sat up and began shifting through his bags.

“No, it's okay. Can I crash here tonight?” You asked innocently, kicking off your casual flip flops that you saved for night time piss breaks or trips to get water.

Daryl tried hiding his surprise . The stutter in his voice gave him away. “Uh, sure, I guess. S’long as ya dun snore.”

You behaved for an impressive amount of time. Lying in silence, not moving an inch, waiting for him to loosen up before quietly shifting backwards until your back was pressed up against his chest.

His heart felt seconds away from collapsing in on itself when he felt you. He'd popped a semi when you'd taken off that big T-shirt he'd given you, and now it was bordering on a full on erection.

You waited until you felt his body relax, which took longer than you originally estimated, and then wiggled your hips.

The reaction was immediate. He sucked in a breath through his nose and made this choking sound. He grabbed your hips, only for a split second before yanking his hands away like he'd been burned.

You wiggled again, pushing back until the feeling of the outline of his dick against your ass was ingrained into your memory.

It didn't take long to wear him down, not at all. He let out a strangled groan and rocked into you, his self restraint long since thrown out the window.

And then you stopped.

He nearly gasped at the loss of friction. The feeling was so devastating that it sobered him, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Wha-” he panted. His fingers loosened their hold on your hips and twitched against the fabric of your pajama shorts. “Why'd ya stah- stop?”

“I'm sleepy.” You said plainly, pulling the thin sheet up to your shoulders in emphasis.

Daryl caught his breath behind you, struggling to make sense of it all through his confusion and disappointment. He grumbled something that sounded like it held an attitude, though sadly that was the extent of his protests.

You needed more. You needed him to tear your clothes off and ravish you like the animal you knew he was. The Daryl that feverishly humped you like his life depended on it was cute, but you needed the Daryl that he was in his daily life.

The only way you could think of was to force it out of him, even if it did torture the poor man in the process.

You kept up the innocent teasing for a while. You took a break after Merle went missing, you knew your limits and his. You weren't a total selfish piece of shit. Only when you arrived at the farm and he began talking to you again did you resume your game of “teasing Daryl until he cracks”.

“How's it look?” You gave a cheeky smile as you turned in a circle with your hands on your hips.

You'd put on the pair of green cargo shorts he'd found you. They weren't very practical, holding only four pockets, which was less than normal cargo shorts, but they were scandalous. The fabric hugged your ass tight enough to look damn near pornographic.

“Didn't realize they were that tiny. Christ.” Daryl muttered with pink cheeks. “Jus’ give ‘em ta Beth.

“Oh god. Can you imagine her face? That girl is still wearing pants in late summer. Her daddy would kill me.” You snorted and turned back to face him. “I'm keeping these bad boys. The fabric is soft. Wanna feel?”

“Already felt em when I took em.” Despite his words, he set down his knife to free up his hands.

“Give me your hand.”

The poor boy was so eager to feel you that he practically threw his hands in yours. When you placed his palms on the sides of your shorts he seemed to snap to life, dropping the nonchalant attitude to rub his thumbs over the fabric covering your hips and thighs.

You tried to keep the smug smirk off your face, and failed miserably. He was turning himself on just by touching the clothing that covered your pelvis.

Suddenly, you pulled away, feeling your heart lurch in your chest at the way his face dropped.

“Thanks again. I've been needing new shorts.”

“Yeah. Uh-huh. S'nothin.”

It went on like that for a while.

One night you climbed into his tent again with the ruse of being cold, and he didn't mention the fact it was a warm seventy degrees that night. You were wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties, and made sure to make Daryl aware of this when you slid your knee over his thigh.

Nothing happened that night either, nothing other than pretending to sleep while he palmed himself through his jeans.

Another time you put on those green cargo shorts and offered to tidy up his camp, an offer he was quick to accept just so he could watch you needlessly bend over to grab random objects to place somewhere else.

Once you even made out with him. Late at night in his tent, things got hot and heavy and you straddled him, wearing the same oversized T-shirt and panties, washed since then, of course.

He was nervous at first, you could tell by the way his hands trembled on their way up your sides. You kissed him slow and sweet, nothing too extreme, not until he pushed his hot tongue against your lips.

You let him in and groaned at the enthusiasm he showed. He kissed you like you were still teenagers, up in the loft of some barn hiding away from Daddy.

“Shit.” He panted against your lips. He moved his hands down to your waist and pulled you down hard, groaning when he got that first taste of friction he so desperately craved.

“Slow down.” You breathed. Your body betrayed your words, your hips rolling down gentle and slow, just enough to feel the outline of his aching cock through your clothing.

“Why?” He muttered before pressing another kiss against your lips. “Wha's stoppin’ ya? I got condoms. Glenn's got the pill. S'fine.”

You pulled up and away from his lips. He looked so pretty beneath you all desperate like that. It still wasn't what you wanted.

“I don't know, Daryl-” Your voice choked into a whine when he moved under you, the friction momentarily rendering you speechless.

“Can't ya feel what yer doin’ to me? Huh?” He snapped his hips again, forcing out another whine. “S’all for you. C'mon now.”

“Not here Daryl.” You tried to keep your voice level and firm. “Not in some tent where we have to be quick and quiet.”

“Le’s go somewhere then. Anywhere ya want, don't care. Tell me. I'll take ya.”

Truthfully, that almost made you give in. But it still wasn't the Daryl you wanted to experience. He was desperate, but not desperate enough.

“Not tonight, Daryl. It's too late and Shane's on watch. He'll have my ass if he catches us sneaking out.”

Daryl growled in frustration, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Won't get caught.”

“Yeah, sure. Let's just wait another night.” You pressed a kiss against his cheek, innocent enough, contrasting painfully with the way you ground down against him one last time before sliding off.

Part of you started doubting your plan. Daryl was too reluctant, too full of self doubt, too terrified at the aspect of losing whatever fun thing you had going on by pushing your limits. Even though you had no problem pushing his.

His patience amazed you. Any other man would've thrown you to the side after the first few times, or ignored your “wishes” and dove right in. He didn't know that's what you wanted. You couldn't blame him.

How could you tell someone like Daryl “I want you to fuck me with enough desire and aggression to give a nun a heart attack”? He'd been too gentle during foreplay, too submissive, you were beginning to think he was a virgin.

Maggie gave you a dress. You didn't know who it once belonged to, her or her sister, but it was one of the cutest things you'd ever laid eyes on. A pretty moss green that went right below your knees, laces up your stomach the same color as the dress, and thankfully, no sleeves.

The domestic look had Daryl in shambles. You looked like a farm wife from a damn magazine, it took everything he had in him not to fuck you behind the barn like he wanted.

He took you out that day. On a ‘food supply run’, as he called it. You weren't anyone's first pick for runs, which you understood, you were easily distracted. It was your biggest fault.

So when he asked you specifically, and you alone, you were barely able to contain your excitement.

The first place you stopped by was an old farmers corner store to pick up enough food so you didn't come back empty handed. A few canned goods, stale snacks and three cans of soda.

He left that in the back of the truck when the two of you stopped by a house. A very nice house, to your surprise.

“Can't believe this place hasn't been trashed.” You commented while rummaging through the kitchen. “No more food, but there's some lighter fluid.”

“Hm.” Daryl grunted. After securing the front door he found you still in the kitchen, chewing on a mouthful of gum.

You'd shoved about three long sticks in your mouth. “Want some?”

He eyed the gum wrapped in silver paper before taking it from your outstretched hand with a gruff thanks.

It was hard to focus on, his heart felt like it was in his throat, it was hard to swallow, and his jaw ached from his aggressive chewing. He'd done everything you wanted, got birth control; condoms and plan B. He found this nice house that same morning, almost immediately after seeing you walk outside in that dress. He even cleaned up the master bedroom for you, dusting off the sheets and beating the pillows, opening the windows to air out the room.

There was no way you could wave him off now.

Oh, but you found a way. It was a talent that needed to be fucking studied.

You were digging through the dresser in the upstairs bedroom when he approached you. You ignored the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him, pretending to be very interested in the contents of the bottom drawer.

His hands found your sides. Your skin tingled as he pulled you to your feet and pressed you against the dresser with his palm on your lower back.

He went to kissing the back of your neck. His lips were light and soft, contrasting the anxiety bubbling in his gut.

“Hmm.” You hummed. He brushed your hair over your right shoulder and went back to kissing your neck, peppering them all the way to the point of your left shoulder.

“Missed ya'.” He muttered, pushing his hips forward to drive home his point.

You tried not to laugh with pity at the feeling. He was already hard? Poor thing.

“We're supposed to be looking for food.” You chided playfully. You shifted your ass and earned a low grunt of appreciation for the friction.

“Then why’re ya in the bedroom?” He challenged. When you didn't respond he smirked against the skin on your neck.

His hands didn't wait for permission. He bent his knees so he could grab the bottom of your dress, gathering it in his fists and pulling it up and over your ass. He sighed at the sight, you were wearing the type of panties he'd only ever seen on a clothing rack or behind a screen. Black soft fabric, tight and with lace around the hem, hugging your curves just right.

“Daryl, come on.” You chuckled, but made no attempt to move. “They're gonna wonder where we went.”

He laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “Don't give a shit. They'll survive.”

“And what is it you wanna do so bad that's more important than feeding our people, huh?” You mused, placing your palms on the dresser he was pushing you harder up against.

“Ain't my people.” He quipped and ground into you, dying to make you feel how desperate he was for you.

You choked back a moan. “You didn't answer my question.”

“Want ya. Right here.”

“Want me to what?”

Daryl sighed and released his hold on your dress to grip your waist. “Wanna fuck ya nice an’ good. Make y’feel what y’been missin’.”

You groaned. Your grip on the dresser turned white-knuckled as he pushed against you again.

“Yeah?” Your breath trembled past your open lips. “What else?”

Daryl pressed himself closer, until his mouth was right at your ear. “Wanna feel what ya’ been keepin’ from me. Taste ya'. Shove my dick in that pretty lil’ mouth n’make ya sorry.”

His words had an obvious effect on you. Your knees trembled and your breathing was louder, more shallow.

But he still hadn't cracked.

The curiosity was eating you alive. You couldn't give in now, not when he was so fucking close. You turned to face him and gave a ghost of a smile, trying your best to look sympathetic.

“Maybe some other time.”

His eyes widened and his eyebrows scrunched tightly together. His nostrils flared as his pupils darted over your face, looking frantically for the slightest sign telling him it was a joke. He looked hurt, confused, like you just slapped him in the face and called him a slur.

There it is.

“You-” he choked out, “Y’aint serious?”

You forced a nod.

“Why?” The way he raised his voice sent a bolt of pleasure through your core, and you had to fight back a whimper. “Got everythin’ ya needed. Went through the trouble’a findin’ this place, ain't gotta be quiet, ain't gotta worry ‘bout walkers or someone hearin’, the hell else you want from me woman?”

You couldn't stop yourself from whimpering. You bit your bottom lip and tried to steady your breathing, but when you stole a glance at his face and saw the expression held there your lungs shifted into overdrive.

He looked so fed up.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You whispered.

Daryl sneered in contempt. “The hell can I do ‘bout it? Not gonna beg.”

You swallowed hard. You slowly shook your head, your chest rising and falling dramatically, your body still trapped between his arms, his hands on the dresser behind you.

“Don't want you to beg.”

You pressed a hand between his legs and he let out a strangled groan, his elbows swaying as they threatened to give out. You flexed your fingers to massage his length, and pulled away.

His eyes shot open and just as quick his hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back to his bulge and nearly breaking your fingers in the process of shoving them down the waistband of his jeans.

After unbuckling his belt he was able to cram your hand down deeper, forcing you to feel him.

You gasped when your fingertips made contact. You didn't know a dick could get that hard. It felt just as firm as any other extremity.

“Daryl.” You let out a long sigh as you gave a half assed attempt to pull your hand out. His grip on your wrist tightened.

“Hmm?” The teasing tone of his hum made your clit throb.

“We can't-” You didn't get to finish your sentence before he scoffed and picked you up. Like actually picked you up in his arms, bridal style. He threw you on the plush bed where you bounced a few times, and dove into you.

“S’enough.” He muttered. He pulled your dress up over your waist and looped his fingers through the sides of your panties. You thought he'd hesitate, take a look at the expression on your face and back off, but he didn't. He tugged them down your legs and tossed them off the bed in a random location.

“Ain't some pussy ya’ got on a leash.” His fingers snaked between your legs, beelining for your cunt. He groaned in surprise, his eyes rolling back at the feeling. You were beyond wet at this point, his aggression had your folds like a slip n slide with lube instead of water.

You bit back a moan. His fingers spread your folds, smearing your wetness around, his thumb pressing down against your clit.

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your hips instinctively shifted to the side from the overwhelming sensation, but a firm grip on your waist quickly snatched you back.

“Think y'can do whatever the hell ya’ want, and I'll jus’ sit back an’ let ya’?” He didn't give you time to answer. He pushed a finger inside you, and both of you hissed at the feeling. “Ffuck. Shit ain't like that no more, princess.”

Any other time you would've snapped at the insult, but his finger digging around inside you had your mind blank.

“Wha’s wrong? Huh?” He twisted his finger and you cried out. His voice was sickly sweet, something that should've pissed you off but only fueled your arousal. “Got nothin' to say?” His finger curled, a movement that held no thought behind it, though the way you gasped and arched your back had him repeating the action.

Then he started mocking you. “Oh no, not now, it's not right, I'm not ready!” He scoffed in disgust. “Like ya’ a lot better when ya’aint speakin’.”

Oh, god. You should be fuming. You should be spitting venom right back at him, but this is everything you'd wanted from him. It was all going according to plan.

Maybe he knew that, or maybe he didn't. Either way he was behaving just as you'd imagined countless times, rough, mean, cruel and demanding.

“C'mon, try a little bit.” He growled after leaning down to bite at your open neck. “Go on. Tell me it ain't the time. Tell me.”

You were nothing but a puddle under him. Your hands became too restless and reached up to grab at him, balling your fists in the back of his shirt.

Never in your life had a man treated you like this. No matter how bad you teased and gave subliminal signals. They would either indulge in your teasing, respect your wishes and back off when told to, or kiss and plead until you relented.

Finally someone was fucking you like you had always wanted. Or, they were about to.

The knuckle of his thumb had been digging into your clit for a good minute now, and despite how uncomfortable it could feel at times, you came quickly.

You sucked in a sharp gasp and locked your legs around his waist, trying to pull his finger in deeper, or make his knuckle grind harder.

Daryl groaned into your neck as you came around his finger. His hips jerked forward and bumped against his hand between your thighs, knocking his digit in deeper. You yelped, not expecting such a sharp sensation during your warm and soft climax.

He withdrew his finger and you whined.

“Sh-sh-sh.” You didn't think a hush could sound so condescending. “Got somethin' better. Gonna make you regret not takin’ it sooner.”

You said it before you could stop yourself. “You don't have it in you.”

His eyes flicked up to your face as he pulled his zipper down, a look on his face that sent chills across your bare legs.

There was slight amusement, slight relief, as if someone finally gave him permission to show off and prove himself. Lips parted into a breathy smirk, tongue peeking between his teeth, and one eyebrow raised.

Your eyes dropped to his pants when he pulled his cock free. It looked just as you imagined when you'd touched it only minutes ago, standing at full attention against his lower stomach.

You let out a sigh when you saw it reached his navel.

Daryl leaned down until he was level with your pussy. You heard it before you felt it, the sound of him spitting, and then warm drool dropping right on your sensitive clit.

You squealed in protest, trying to raise yourself on your elbows, but he stopped you with a hand on your chest. With his free hand he smeared his spit over your already soaking folds, even going as far as to push some inside you with his finger.

“Ew!” You gasped.

You felt a tingle. Subtle at first, you just assumed it was the salinity of his saliva, and then more prominent. You were close to panicking until you saw the wad of white gum shoot out of his mouth, landing with a smack against the hardwood floor.

At least you knew the source of the tingling. You swallowed your own gum, the same way you'd completely forgotten about.

The skin around your cunt buzzed when he slapped the tip of his dick on your clit, and you squirmed beneath him. He steadied you with the same hand on your chest.

“Wait.” You inhaled deeply. He didn't wait though, he just pushed into your clenched hole, ignoring your whines.

“Ssss-shut up.” His voice trembled. He used his free hand to wrap around the base of his dick, holding it straight as he slowly pushed in further.

“Y-you said you had condoms.”

Daryl let out a loud groan as he sank into you. His right hand on your chest increased in pressure as more and more of his upper body weight bore down on it, forcing the air from your lungs.

He was so thick, and it had been years for you. The burn was incredible, in such a pleasurable way that you should've felt ashamed to enjoy. You tried to moan, but nothing came out aside from a strained breath.

“Ain't nothin' gonna make me feel rubber instead’a this.” He grunted. He rolled his hips forward and finally pulled his hand off your chest to roll the dress up and over your body.

“F-Fuck.” His whimper was strangled in his throat. Being completely naked under someone who was fully dressed had you clenching around him, earning another whimper from said man.

“Should feel ‘shamed, keepin' all this from me.”

You didn't. Not one bit.

“But I know ya'aint.”

You furrowed your brows, momentarily stunned by his apparent mind reading abilities. He jerked his hips forward and your face fell slack, your jaw dropping and your eyelids falling shut.

His thrusts were harsh, but far too slow for you to get anywhere. You grabbed his shirt and used it to pull him down, desperate for more stimulation.

Daryl happily obliged. His breath was hot on your ear before he took the lobe between his lips, sucking and licking the flesh. You gasped as he bit down on it, and you could sense the smirk on his lips.

“Daryl?” You breathed, the name breaking on your tongue with another thrust.

“Jesus.” He groaned, thoroughly annoyed. He released your ear and pulled back to look at you, frustration evident on his face. “What?”

“Thought I was gonna regret it.”

Your words had his upper lip twitching and his eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Yeah?” He huffed. “S'gonna be like that?”

He rose from your chest, shifting until he was sitting on his boots. His hands grabbed onto your hips and yanked you down on his dick, forcing a cry from your dry throat. It took him a few seconds to position himself, leaning back just a bit, his grip on your hips tight, and then he started fucking you in a ruthless pace.

It wasn't what you were expecting. Your mouth dropped into a long gape and your eyes shot open as he pounded his pelvis against yours, driving his dick so deep it reached places your fingers never had.

Each thrust had a gasp burning in your lungs, and those gasps quickly grew to embarrassing moans. Now that you were ashamed of. If you had the ability to stop it you could, but the way he was thrusting into you rendered you utterly unable to control yourself and the sounds you made.

“Get up.”

You weren't sure why he even spoke, because he was moving your body by himself before you could process his command. He pulled you to the side of the bed and turned you over on your stomach, bending you over and shoving his dick back inside you so fast you shrieked.

Your feet flew up behind you, smacking against the back of his thighs. If you could've seen it you would've laughed.

The new angle was paralyzing. His dick was no longer tilted against the spot under your stomach, the spot that had you a drooling mess seconds ago. Now it smashed against a deeper part of you, a part that had you groaning with each frustration fueled thrust.

“Fuck.” Daryl groaned, his pace slowing to give momentary reprieve. He wasn't as young as you, and even though he was always out there doing a hundred times more labor intensive activity, he needed a second to catch his breath.

There was still an itch yet to be scratched. While he regained his bearings you fought to think of a way to say it without actually saying ‘i want you to hurt me and fuck me till I cry’. You'd already humiliated yourself enough.

When he began picking up the pace again, you reached for the hand beside your head and bit down on his knuckles. Not gently, either. You bit down so hard he could've ripped a tooth out with the way he yanked his hand away.

“The fuck?” His voice was barely below a shout. “Ya’ crazy bitch!”

There was no retaliation besides a particularly forceful thrust, to your irritation.

“You baby.” You managed to grunt out. “Barely bit you.”

“Barley bi-” he scoffed, looking down at the hand he now had splayed across your lower back. There were deep pink imprints from your teeth over his index finger knuckle, and the skin around it turned a bright red.

You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from its grip on the bed sheets. Your heart hammered quicker than his thrusts when his breath tickled your skin, and then he bit you. In the same spot you bit him.

It wasn't nearly as hard as you bit him, but you still whimpered at the ache.

“Point stands.”

Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing. His jaw set and he dropped your wrist.

The smug smirk you'd been keeping to yourself fell when your hair was suddenly twisted in the fist of his right hand. With just that leverage alone he pulled your upper body up, and his left arm snaked around your torso to keep you flush against his chest.

He yanked your head to the side. You gasped.

“This what ya’ wanted, huh sweetheart?” He breathed against your ear and drew back until his dick nearly slipped out before slamming back in.

“Mmm-oh god yes.” You blurted out between moans.

“Jus' had to ask.” He managed a chuckle.

“More.”

He furrowed his brows, but kept up the slow and deep pace. He couldn't imagine what else he could give you. He was fucking you hard enough to bruise, he was pulling your hair, what, did you want him to start beating you?

He dipped his head down to bite your shoulder, holding back just enough so that he wouldn't give you an actual wound.

You have to consider that biting someone with enough force to actually break the skin takes a lot. Skin isn't like the flesh of a fruit. It's tough, and would require chewing to break through. So for him to stop right before that point meant he was biting you so hard you got blood blisters, and the pain was all you could focus on.

Your wail of genuine pain had him pulling back like he'd been shocked. His thrusts slowed, and through ragged breaths he spoke, “Shit, m'sorry. M'so sorry.”

“No.” You gasped. Your shoulder felt like it was on fire, and your walls cleaned around him in response. “So good. Feels so good.”

Daryl let out a huff in relief. “Ya’ weird as shit, yanno that?”

“Mhmm.” You groaned, pressing your ass back tightly against him. “More.”

He took a deep breath to steady himself and pushed you back down on your stomach. He had to work himself up to it, the idea intimidating. Once his thrusts were back to their former sharp pace he raised a hand in the air.

You tilted your head to the side so your cheek was pressed against the blanket. When you saw his right hand held up, your heart leapt. You never nodded so quickly.

Daryl ground his teeth together, glancing down at your ass, your face, and back to your ass again before smacking his hand against it.

It was barely a love tap.

You groaned, wiggling your hips and earning a moan from him in response to the feeling on his dick.

He took the hint and gave another smack, harder, but still not giving that burn or satisfying ‘smack’ sound you wanted.

“Daryl, please.” You whimpered. “Hurt me. I'm not made of glass.”

You barely got the last word out before he slapped you. Open handed, fingers spread and slightly curved to mold perfectly against your asscheek. You yelped and instinctively tried scooting up the bed, held back by his left hand on your hip.

It clicked in his head then. No wonder people liked spanking so much. His palm tingled and he could see a faint handprint start to color your skin. And the way you reacted, that sound you made, your body trying to get away from him, it made his dick twitch.

“Fuck!” You cried out after another hard slap. The pain fully distracted you from the ache in your shoulder, white hot pain spreading across your ass and up your spine.

“Such a baby.” He meant it to sound patronizing, but he was still too amazed by the new turn on he'd discovered, and the words came out breathless.

Your whimper bled into another cry as he spanked you again.

And again.

Again, again, until you were on the verge of tears, sobs bubbling from your wet lips as you tried to squirm away from him.

As if you actually wanted to. Which you clearly didn't. You were practically gushing around his dick.

He rubbed his palm over the deep red skin, barely soothing the blinding burn he'd left behind. “Goddamn.”

“M'gonna cum.” You were literally drooling.

He snapped his attention away from your ass and back to you. “Whaddya want, huh?” He quickened his pace once again, jolting forward to press his body against your back. You whimpered at the way he moved, his dick pushing deeper inside you.

“More, please,” you stuttered, trying desperately to work your hand under your body, which proved to be difficult due to his weight on top of you.

Daryl noticed and lifted your hips with his hands. He shoved your eager arm out of the way and rubbed your clit with his own fingers, fast and deep in a way he assumed you'd like.

You moaned under him, arching your back, feeling him slip in further. It was as if he grew another inch every five minutes. Or you grew another inch deeper, and he was staying the same. Either way he was deeper, and it felt immaculate.

The rise to your climax was slow, but powerful. You were fully prepared to gently tip over the edge and slide down in bliss.

That was before he slapped your pussy. Then you fell down gasping.

Daryl held onto your body like you were a wild mustang, trashing and twisting under him in ecstasy. He withdrew his hand and grabbed your hips again, resuming his brutal pace, clamping his teeth down on the back of your neck to keep your bodies anchored together.

It took a while for you to come down from your high. When you did it was violent, the pure bliss smashed away by burning overstimulation.

“Fu-uck!” You heaved in deep breaths. “Daryl s’too much, can't, wait!”

“Ever since that night ya’ came in my tent, blue ballin’ me like that,” he growled against your neck, “-been dreamin’ ‘bout havin ya’ like this. Fallin’ apart. Face full’a tears. Ain't stoppin now.”

He wasn't bluffing. He didn't stop. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, ramming into your abused cunt, only slowing to shift in positions so you were on your back.

The air felt amazing against your chest. Daryl ripped that feeling away with gnashing teeth, biting your hard nipples and alternating between sucking and pinching.

The house had to be surrounded by walkers by now. There was no way it wasn't, you were crying and moaning like you were getting paid for it.

“Oh, god.” You wailed as another orgasm built up quicker than ever inside you. “Oh please, fuck, god!”

A jolt of pleasure shot through your core when Daryl's hands wrapped around your throat.

Now, Daryl was no stranger to strangling someone. He'd choked plenty of people out before.

In fights.

He was unaware there was a different type of choking for pleasure. Instead of squeezing the sides of your throat with his thumb and fingers, he wrapped both hands around your neck and fucking strangled you.

You squeezed your eyes shut so tight they ached as you came. Your orgasm had started off blinding, overwhelming every inch of your body, but Daryl's crushing grip soon muted the tail end of your climax and filled your ears with a deafening ringing.

Daryl pulled his teeth off your nipple and panted against your ear. “Lemme cum inside ya’, sweetheart.”

You could barely process what he'd said. You forced your eyes open against the pressure induced burn, trying to find his face, only to see the side of his head.

“Can't pull out.” He growled and released some of the pressure around your throat. Oxygen and blood flooded your head, leaving you dizzy and with black around the edges of your vision.

“Can't, m'sorry. Oh, huh- fuck!” His voice was strained as every muscle in his body tensed up. His hips surged forward, stuffing his dick balls deep to coat the end of your walls in his cum. “Mmm-fuck s’good. So good. Ohhh, Hah-”

He choked on his moan. He moved his head, replacing his hands around your neck with his mouth, kissing and biting at the tender skin as he spurted ropes of hot cum inside you.

Your body broiled under his crushing form. Your thighs relaxed from their clamped position, falling off his waist and dropping to the bed beneath you. Your lungs ached and your throat was raw, but your pussy buzzed so intently it felt like you had a vibrator pressed against it.

“Oh, god.” The tone was full of dread and you forced yourself to focus on Daryl.

“What?” You croaked. There was a stabbing pain in your neck from Daryl choking you out like you were a man his size.

“Yer all fucked up.” He whined. He traced his fingers across your throat. “S’bad. Oh fuck.”

“Calm down.” You sat upright after he pulled back enough for you to do so, his dick dragging out against your trembling walls in the process and making you hiss.

“It's okay. I'll just tell em a walker got the jump on me. We've all seen them grab throats. It's fine.” You pressed a kiss to his worried lips.

“Gonna tell em a walker did that too?” He pointed an exhausted finger at the bite mark on your shoulder, which was now in the early stages of a deep bruise, not to mention the blood blister in the shape of his teeth.

You laughed softly. “Fuck no. I'll just skip the tank tops for a week or two.”

That seemed to settle him enough and he nodded, moving to lay on his back.

“That was amazing.” You broke the long silence. “Seriously. You're the first man to ever… you know.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at you. “Huh? Y’never…?”

“No! I mean…” you sighed. “Never had a man make me come.”

Now he was at full attention, sitting upright and leaning back on his palms. “Nah, no shit.”

“I'm serious.”

He let out a light scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched you climb off the bed to grab your thrown panties. “Me too.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you stepped into them. “Really? You never…?”

He nodded, going back to biting his cheek.

“How'd you last so fucking long?”

A cocky grin crept across his lips at the compliment behind your words. He was worried he didn't last long enough. And you just asked him how he held on so long.

“Jerked off like, ten fuckin’ times today.”

That meant he knew he was going to fuck you today. Heat spread through your core again, despite how worn out you were. You smiled and climbed back on the bed to smother him with kisses.

“You're so fucking hot.” You mumbled against his lips, which were moving weakly against your own.

“Says the bitch that wouldn't fuck me.” He chuckled.

“Just wanted you to make the decision for me. It's a lot hotter that way.” You hummed, pulling your swollen lips away from his. “It worked.”

“Psh.” He rolled his eyes and began stuffing his soft cock back in his jeans. “Put yer clothes on. Place is probably crawlin' with walkers. Le’s get the hell outta dodge before anymore show up.”

Now that Daryl was in on your little game, you couldn't wait to play again.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

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