#the walking dead: daryl dixon fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scudslut · 2 months

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Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'.

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.”

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water.

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily.

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly.

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy.

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away.

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong.

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?”

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank.

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl imagines #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon drabbles #twd drabbles #fem!reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl smut #norman reedus smut #y/n grimes #daryl x grimes reader #twd smut #daryl twd #twd fanfiction

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rickswh0r3 · 3 months

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they reunited i can now die in peace🕯️🙏🥳

#the walking dead #rick grimes #carl grimes #michonne #richonne #twd towl #daryl dixon #andrew lincoln #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes x you #andrew lincoln smut #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x female reader

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 months

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Exhausted, Daryl plodded down the stairs into his basement space. It was somewhere in the ballpark of 1 am and the house was dark and silent. The moon was full outside and the glow was enough through the little window in his room that he easily saw your sprawled form beneath the blankets in his bed and he smiled.

He did his best to be quiet, not to wake you up, as he stowed his gear and pulled on some clean clothes, but the way you were laying it was an inevitability. He sank down on the edge of the bed and reached over to stroke his fingers lightly through your hair. You stirred against the pillow and stretched a little before opening your eyes and looking up at him with a sleepy smile.

"Hi," you said, sleep swaddling your voice.

"Hey," he drawled quietly. "Sorry to wake ya up but uhh—where 'm I s'posed to sleep."

You rolled onto your side and looked at your place in the bed—legs sprawled from one bottom corner with your body laying diagonal across the opposite corner. You laughed lightly, a sound he adored and the glow of warmth in his chest radiated outwards. "I suppose I can scoot over for you," you said, shifting onto one pillow.

"Oh, thanks," Daryl drawled, his eyes crinkling in a soft smile. "Appreciate the favor." He settled down beside you and you immediately moved in against him, resting your head on his shoulder and relishing the feeling of his arms around you. "How the hell d'ya manage to take up a bed this big by yerself?" he asked, amusement in his drawl.

You sighed contentedly. "Guess you didn't read the special skills section of my resume," you joked. He chuckled. "It's actually a strategy. If you have to wake me up to fit in the bed, you can't sneak in here, and then I always get to see you when you come home."

Daryl felt a fluttering in his chest. He had someone who waited in his bed for him to get home. It was more than he ever expected to have in this life. His arms tightened around you in a gentle squeeze. He kissed the top of your head. "I love ya, ya know..." he murmured.

You smiled to yourself, your heart bursting. "I know. I love you too," you whispered back. And the two of you were asleep the next moment.

Prompt: "How the hell do you manage to take up a bed that big by yourself?"

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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gutsby · 3 months

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Best Served Cold

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Warning: NSFW. Attempted SA. Unprotected p-in-v. I don’t condone cheating (unless it’s on abusers lol). Semi-public sex and getting caught doing it in a tent 🫣 Based on this kickass idea from @dilfsandmartinis (I'm so sorry it took this long for me to post the story) !! 💓

Your man returned to your tent that night like he did most others: slick with sweat and too tired for sex. At least not again, not with you. He would undoubtedly claim to have been checking the perimeter, standing guard like a good leader should, but any blind man in that quarry camp could’ve seen he was just boning Lori.

A lot.

You were really more offended that he thought you stupid enough to abide by his lies than the fact he was fucking someone else. That part wasn’t new—his dick never knew how to stay in one hole longer than a month or two—but in an apocalypse? With his newly-deceased best friend’s widow? That was low, even for Shane.

Which was why you felt no compunction yourself as you slipped quietly from your tent toward the water’s edge that night, pink vibrator clutched tightly in hand.

Useful little thing that it was, a six-setting suction device that worked wonders on your clit, even underwater. You figured since Shane couldn’t be bothered with you or your sexual pleasure so long as the former Mrs. Grimes was occupying his time, you’d make use of this sex toy instead and start really leaning into the “self care” you’d been craving for so long.

The water was warm all the way up to your chest, and the air around you tepid. You moved around, treaded in place, and finally reached comfortable bearings a couple yards from shore. You relished the solitude and silence.

The moment you felt the toy come to life in your hand, you couldn’t help but smile. Exhaling as you brought the tip close to your center.

“Shit.” Even the gentlest setting too harsh on your clit, you nipped your lower lip and bit back a whimper.

You swirled it lightly on your inner thigh, tried painstakingly as ever to acclimate yourself to the buzz of the rubber, but damn were you sensitive. Almost too tender to be touched, too ripe with excitement and aching for the feel of something on you, or in you, or just barely skimming the surface of your skin underwater.

A low moan escaped your lips the second the head drifted back to your clit. Your toes curled into rough, rocky terrain underfoot, and your breaths started to quicken. You made a gentle motion with your hips—a sweet, semi-circular thing you’d been doing over Shane’s lower half as long as you could remember—begging for more friction, needing more of that mechanical hum.

You pressed the button for a higher setting. The peaks of your pleasure soared to new heights.

You were helpless to the trembling of your knees and felt immensely grateful for the water’s aid in keeping you straight. You pressed the rounded tip of the toy even tighter to your core and didn’t heed a thing around you as you sighed several expletives under your breath. A jolt of bliss washed over your body.

Your eyes had just started to close in the first throes of that wild sensation, when a new sound startled you.

“Ya done pissin’ or what?”

You shot a look toward the shore and saw a slightly less-than cheery individual standing at the edge of it, the toes of his boots grazing the incoming waves.

You froze in place. You hardly knew what to say.

“Ain’t safe fer you out here ‘n you know it. Come on.” Daryl beckoned you with one hand and started to turn.

At what point was it appropriate to tell him you were naked?

You thought he could surmise from the fact you were neck-deep in the water and refusing to move that maybe something more was keeping you in. Daryl seemed clueless, however.

“I ain’t got all night, kid,” he snorted, “’f you don’t hurry, Shane an’ the rest of ‘em’ll be out and— ah.”

Ah.

At the last, he stepped on a pile of clothes folded neatly on the shoreline nearby, undergarments and all.

So this wasn’t a midnight swim or a late night piss at all, but a full-blown skinny dip. He should have known you weren’t the bikini type.

Awkwardly, almost begrudgingly, Daryl gathered what clothes of yours he could and chucked them closer to the lake. Then he turned on his heels and stalked up the beach without another word—fuming, it seemed to you. Once averted, though, Daryl’s face betrayed a look of horror. Like a parent who’d just stumbled upon a box of condoms in their daughter’s sock drawer after swearing she was still a virgin.

In the few short weeks since you’d been thrown together in this mess, Daryl had practically taken to you like family. He hated Shane ‘Shit-for-Brains’ Walsh most days, it was true, but the fact that you were you, and times were tough, and nothing seemed to occupy Daryl’s mind quite like the thought of keeping you safe, that he had to keep you close at all times. He just hadn’t imagined your proximity would turn this intimate so suddenly.

“Keep up,” he spoke more sharply than usual. Didn’t even wait for you to dry and dress completely before snagging your hand in his.

You glanced at your taut, hardened nipples poking up through the damp material of your tank top and suddenly wished you’d brought a towel. Or a bra. Your shorts, too, clung to your ass like a second skin and made you feel extra bare before Daryl’s eyes—even if he hadn’t spared a look at you once as you’d traipsed behind him through the woods.

When you tripped, he held you up; when you nearly ate shit over several rocky spots, he carried you over them. His eyes never strayed toward your body, though.

Once you’d made it to the clearing where your group had made camp, Daryl lowered you to the ground and still couldn’t find it within himself to look your way. You shuffled uncomfortably on your feet, now standing inches away from the tent you shared with Shane.

“Thanks for...that,” you said, flatly.

Daryl managed a curt nod.

Before you turned in, you decided to venture a look at Daryl’s chest, and you felt an influx of embarrassment. The taupe-colored cutoff he wore as a shirt was soaked with water. Instinctively, you brushed your fingers over the stain—as if touching it might dry the fabric, or else mask your humiliation at being the cause. You tried not to evince a hint of surprise at how sturdy he felt.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Daryl.”

You hadn’t thought any man was capable of looking more afflicted than Daryl did before, but somehow, incredibly, he appeared even more ill at ease when you touched him. You immediately retracted your hand.

“’S’okay,” he managed. He would’ve given anything not to be where he was, or who he was, at that moment.

Just when another apology leapt to your tongue—feeling even worse that you might’ve crossed a physical boundary you shouldn’t have—a twig snapped close-by.

You and Daryl jumped in your skin. You turned toward the source of the sound.

Shane was tugging his pants into place, pulling the zip up in haphazard fashion as he marched out of the woods.

He’d either been blowing Lori’s back out (again) or off to take a piss in the bushes. By the looks of his dazed and drowsy expression, you guessed it was the latter.

“Got a nice rack, doesn’t she?” Shane observed, careless as ever.

He walked past the two of you and unzipped the tent.

“I was jus—” Daryl started.

“Don’t care,” Shane cut in, “Goodnight.”

You were amazed at the level of nonchalance your fiancé exhibited. On finding you soaked to the bone and touching another man in the middle of the night, the old Shane probably would’ve laid Daryl flat on his ass.

But overprotective, possessive Shane was no more.

Before disappearing into the tent, Shane reached for your elbow. You barely got another glimpse at Daryl as you were ushered inside.

The tent was re-zipped in an instant, and you assumed Daryl would be quick to leave the scene, too.

You turned and saw Shane fumbling to unscrew the lid of his canteen. Taking several big gulps before re-fastening the top, tossing the jug to the side, and letting out a sigh.

“You get a look at the hard-on he had?” Shane chuckled.

You almost choked on your spit.

“What?”

“Pitched a tent in his pants bigger’n this,” he returned, gesturing to the polyester enclosure overhead. Then he got back to his feet, walked over to you, and kept going, in spite of your perplexed expression, “He must really wanna fuck you.”

You blinked up at him, unsure if you were more baffled by Shane’s serene demeanor or the fact that you hadn’t noticed Daryl’s boner. You decided to overlook the erection for the time being.

“And you don’t...care if he did?” Instantly chiding yourself for the twinge of indignation in your tone.

“Nuh-uh,” Shane said. His hands came to rest comfortably on your hips, and he seemed to be hearing your words without really comprehending what you meant. As usual.

If he picked up on the irritation in your voice, he didn’t show it. He just rolled the denim of your shorts between his fingers and pulled you closer.

“This,” he hummed, fingers sinking between your legs, “is not for him.”

And Shane was community dick. Made sense.

You didn’t attempt to conceal your annoyance this time as you rolled your eyes and pushed his hands away.

“Well maybe if Daryl asked nicely…” you trailed off, starting toward the bed.

Shane stopped you before you could. He took a firmer hold of your sides and showed the first real hint of jealousy in his eyes. You were almost glad to see it.

“No,” Shane said, shaking his head. Then, snaking his touch back down your legs—with the fabric of your shorts fisted in his hands this time—he continued amidst your quiet protests.

You were gripping his wrists, trying to keep them from moving any further. But Shane was insistent.

“He wouldn’t get to ask nicely, because I’d blow his fucking brains out before he ever got the—”

“Shane.” You were actively shoving his hands off now. You didn’t mind this envious side coming back to the surface, but you would not, under any circumstance, be Shane’s sloppy seconds the same hour he’d fucked Lori.

“No. You— you smell like—” you cut yourself off before the woman’s name could leave your lips.

“Like what?” Shane snapped. Suddenly intrigued to hear what you had to say.

You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but when you couldn’t, and when he pressed you again, you sputtered some nonsense about his drinking—how he reeked of booze, not Rick’s wife.

“Thought you liked it when I fucked you drunk,” Shane grinned, voice dripping with condescension, “Said it gave me stamina.”

You’d said no such thing. You groaned lightly as Shane managed to pull your panties and shorts, together, to your ankles. When he started to take them off at your feet, he hardly seemed to notice your nails dig in his shoulders, silently begging him to stop.

“Think I should invite Daryl back over? Let him watch me fuck you stupid?” Shane’s mouth was hovering close to your center, hot breaths fanning over your lower half.

In any other situation, you would’ve craved him here: on his knees, ready to suck and lick and dick you down like he always used to do. But things were different now, you had to remind yourself. Apart from the walking dead invading your world, there was no Rick in the picture, no semblance of platonic feelings between his widow and your fiancé—you felt physically sick at the thought of Shane touching you now. You tried to stand the instant he threw you on the bed.

“Shane, I don’t wanna—”

“Fuck? Yeah, I figured,” Shane shrugged as he tried to peel your shirt off your body.

“Then quit,” you hissed. You were starting to fear the fabric might tear if you held on any tighter.

When it seemed evident you weren’t going to give in on the top, Shane let go and turned to his pants instead. Pinning you down with one hand, he unbuckled his belt as you whimpered and pleaded that he stop. The sounds only made the mound in his pants more pronounced.

The two of you had dabbled in CNC before, but this was not that. No safeword, no fallback, no trace of consent between you, and to be frank, you were starting to get scared. The second Shane freed his cock from his boxers, you felt a surge of panic rise to your chest.

“Fuck— STOP!” Without thinking, you jerked your knee.

You hadn’t meant to hit his balls so hard. But you did. And he folded in half, seizing with pain, while you took that as your chance to slide off the bed, slip on your panties—and hightail it the fuck out of there.

Shane’s cries pierced the night air like a blade through rotted flesh. You stumbled, half-blind in the dark, and blazed a reckless path through the tents all around you. Weaving in and out of neighboring spaces, searching desperately for any lone, dim glow of a lantern to tell you someone was awake to hear your pleas if needed. But sadly, no tent was alight but yours, and the entrance to that was presently being torn open once more as Shane staggered out there himself.

“Y/N!” he bellowed.

In your haste, you’d tripped over Glenn’s knapsack. You scraped your knee, scrambled back to your feet, and tried with everything in you not to make a sound as you retreated further from Shane’s voice.

You probably looked feral, weaving in and out of tents with your knee leaking blood and your pupils grown wide with fear. You scampered fast across the rocky campgrounds and made a beeline for the woods.

Until Shane’s footsteps fell heavy mere feet away.

Quickly changing course, you dove for the nearest tent and ripped it open. When you slipped inside, zipped it up, and went crab-walking backward like a panic-stricken animal, you hardly saw much of anything else.

Had your pulse not been pounding in your ears and your gaze not glued to the front of the tent, you likely would’ve gotten a pretty good laugh at the sight behind you.

At the very least, a chuckle or a smile or a slightly sheepish blush would’ve been supplied in a second, seeing someone wide-eyed and holding his cock in a death grip just inches from your rear.

You’d unwittingly scrambled into the tent of a man who’d just been beating his dick off furiously to the thought of you—and there you were, sitting pretty in pure, unadulterated fear for the sight of your fiancé any second now. When you turned your head, your hand flew to your mouth.

“Dar— oh!”

Like before, your heads snapped in the direction of a new sound, quick to sense that it was Shane, and this time, you went crawling over to the archer without a second thought. Hardly noticing his pants were down, you leapt into his lap.

“Y/N—” Shane hissed as he tripped over something outside. You heard a clatter and a bang, the sound of a few curse words sputtered in vain, and a groan. Daryl’s arms snaked around your sides and pulled you closer.

“What’ve ya gone and done this time?” he whispered.

“Told him no,” you murmured back.

You pretended not to feel the singe of Daryl’s gaze boring straight through the side of your head. Then a little lower, to your near-bare lower half and shaking legs. It didn’t take long for him to piece together what had happened.

“Y/N,” Daryl started, far louder than you could bear. You shushed him swiftly, ignoring the flare of anger in his eyes that told you he was currently conjuring up fifty different ways to kill Shane and just aching to act on it.

“Don’t. Please,” you said.

“Did he—”

“No. I...kneed him in the balls before he got the chance.”

“Oh.”

Shane was pacing outside, like he knew you were somewhere close. He called your name every now and then, drew near enough to send you rigid with fear. Then Daryl would hold you tight, stroke your hair, or else just graze his lips on your shoulder to let you know he was there, and eventually, the fright would subside. You nestled yourself into that touch and felt something far kinder than fear for the first time in a long time.

You felt aroused.

Ever more inspired by the sound of Shane stewing, fuming outside within earshot and the nudge of Daryl’s member against your barely-clothed core. Well…you were tempted, to say the least. You just weren’t sure if Daryl would be on board for being your lightning-quick rebound fuck of the night.

You sighed as his hips moved gently against your own.

“You think maybe—” you started.

“Yeah?”

“—you might…tell me what you were doing before I barged in here?”

Even in the dark, you could sense a blush creeping up his neck. You loved to see a man like Daryl flustered.

“Oh, uh, that?” he said in half a chuckle. Glancing down at his groin and going back and forth between two thoughts in his mind, most likely. Tell you the truth or come up with a half-assed lie on the spot.

“Just…jerking off to you.”

He never had been any good at a bluff.

Your face visibly brightened in the dim glow of the tent. You tried not to let your elation get too far ahead of you, though, lest your voice raise above a whisper and draw Shane’s attention.

“Yeah? What about?”

Daryl never thought it possible for a woman’s enthusiasm in a question to turn him on, but yours did. He looked to your lips and swallowed, suddenly at a loss for how to answer.

“I…well…”

“You’re fucking dead to me, Y/N. If you don’t—”

Your fiancé’s voice was as close, and as terrifying, as it had ever been. You eased Daryl onto his back.

“Were you thinking of this?” you teased.

You made that soft semi-circular motion with your hips and watched a brand new face contort with pleasure. The footsteps outside hardly registered in your mind any longer, as your attention was singly focused on Daryl.

He fought a groan in his throat as you grazed your slick heat over his length.

You coated him with your arousal quicker than even you had expected. You knew you were turned on, but never had it been like that, where you were damn near dripping sweet nectar all over a man’s cock. You let a little whine leave your lips.

You couldn’t help it; your cunt rocked back and forth over Daryl’s fat, throbbing cock and made obscene sounds as you did. The archer’s hands found your hips and gently guided you up and down as his own moans struggled to break loose.

You could’ve stayed like that forever, you figured—if you hadn’t been so fucking wet that the head of his cock slipped inside of your heat the second you and Daryl bucked your hips together. An inch was quick to stretch to seven before you could think or blink or do anything else but groan in pleasure, and suddenly, he was bottoming out inside you.

“Fuck!” Daryl hissed.

“Daryl!”

“Daryl?”

Fucking Shane, of all voices you didn’t want to hear in that moment. Fortunately, he’d heard Daryl’s voice alone and not the sound of your moan, calling his name at the same time, for entirely different reasons, it seemed.

Daryl gritted his teeth as you bounced on his cock,

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking for Y/N. You seen her, brother?”

Seen you, felt you, fucked you, yeah—he had.

Daryl closed his eyes and tried not to blow his load on the spot as you squeezed around him.

“No— no, I haven’t. Not since earlier,” he grunted.

“You sure?” Shane pressed, dissatisfied, “I heard her running around this way.”

You braced your knees against the ground and rode the man beneath you even harder, taking every ounce of resentment you felt toward Shane out on Daryl’s cock. Fuck if revenge sex didn’t feel nice when the object of your ire was standing right outside the tent.

You almost wanted to moan, wanted to whimper, but were quick to think better of it the longer you spent moving up and down his length. Seeing shades of lust in his eyes like never before, you just couldn’t bear the thought of having to pry yourself off any time soon.

Daryl sank his fingers into your thighs and sighed, leaving ten perfect crescents in their wake.

“Don’t you fuckin’ stop,” he murmured.

“Could ya— could you come outside and help me look?”

‘Come the fuck on’ seemed to be the silent, shared sentiment between you and Daryl as your bodies writhed fast against each other and your highs came close into view. You braced your hands against his chest and begged him not to answer with your eyes, but you also knew Daryl couldn’t not say something to him, either.

“I…I’m sure she’s fine.” Daryl tried, weakly.

He flipped you over so you were flat on your back, hands careful not to make much noise or cause you discomfort as he did. Cock never leaving your wet, greedy hole, he found it easier than ever to resume the pace you’d made above him—now pounding you quietly into his sleeping pad.

You gripped his back and, simultaneously, bit down on his shoulder to keep from letting out a shriek when he grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you. Tried not to whine when he hit it again. And again. And again.

Shane was growing impatient. Hovered close to the front of the tent so you could see the outline of his shadow.

“You got something better to do, Dixon?” he snapped.

Yeah, fuck your fiancée, Daryl thought with a smirk. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him even deeper.

That light, airy feeling preceding ecstasy was close at hand. You wanted to give in—let the levee break and just relish the sweet sensation quick to follow—but you knew you couldn’t. Knew yourself too well to be a screamer not to hold on a little longer, until Shane had left.

But the way Daryl’s cock was pumping in and out of you at present made it hard, to say the least.

“Just…tired, ‘s’all,” Daryl groaned close to your ear.

“Tired from what?!” Shane jeered, “Wrist been hurtin’ from how hard you’ve been jerkin’ it to Y/N, huh?”

You almost burst out laughing. Daryl quickly cupped your mouth. Fucked you harder to shut you up.

And shut up you did; but not for long, you feared. The faster he pounded you, the more that coil in your stomach came to swell, and soon enough you might—

“Eat shit, Walsh.”

“Just help me out. Please.”

Daryl shook his head and fucked you harder, much to your chagrin. You didn’t want him to stop, but you needed him to, in truth, or that swollen thing inside of you just might get the better of you and burst. You pressed your hands to his chest and tried to whimper something softly, but Daryl just hushed you with his hand to your mouth and kept on at that breakneck pace. Your eyes rolled back, your legs started to shake, and if Daryl hadn’t had to tear his attention away to say something to Shane, he might have seen how close you were to blowing your cover…before it was too late.

With one more stroke inside your wet, sensitive hole, you felt a cord inside you snap and a flurry of wild, unbridled bliss take over, stronger than you’d felt in ages.

A shriek desperate to escape your throat, your teeth raked down Daryl’s flesh with the force of it, and, instinctively, the man yanked his hand away and yelped.

You hated to do it, but the feeling was just too good. Your lips parted to release one of the most lewd and obscene sex screams of your life—with Daryl’s name following over and over as you came.

Daryl’s eyes grew to half the size of his face, it seemed. Stilling inside you, feeling your sweet, hot juices flow down him in waves, he sat there and couldn’t quite decide if he was more turned on or terrified.

When Shane tore through the fabric of the tent and charged inside, he figured it out pretty quickly, though.

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

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thewalkingdilf · 3 months

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daryl loves adding praise when he’s degrading you.

he’s always adding in a tinge of sweetness to every degrading name he calls you. it’s always things like “pretty whore,” “perfect slut”

he loves how it makes you whimper as a blush of embarrassment coats your cheeks, and how you always attempt to hide your face.

he won’t settle for that though. he’ll grab your hands and pin them down, holding them away from your face as he sinks his cock deep inside of you, and he’ll just continue to whisper filth in your ear as he encourages you for being such a good little fuck doll for him.

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dixonzzgirl · 4 months

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imagine…

finding daryl a really cool zippo lighter and seeing him mindlessly flick it open and close throughout the day.

sitting with your feet in his lap while you both relax on the porch swing (alexandria era).

pinky linking instead of full on hand holding.

finally getting to the playful butt swat stage of your relationship + him winding up his t-shirt and chasing you around the house.

him praising you whenever you kill an animal: “nice shot, girl.” “look at you.“ “atta girl.”

reading a book with your legs crossed on his work bench as he tinkers with his bike.

getting a cold and when daryl dips down to kiss your lips, you turn your head away from him. “daryl, don’t! i don’t wanna get you sick!” and then he grabs your chin and presses a firm kiss on your lips anyway.

daryl finds a cowboy hat and drops it on your head. you let out a giggle. “what’s that saying? save a horse, ride a cowboy?” you smirk. his cheeks darken and he turns away from you. “think ya’ got tha’ backwards..” he drawls. “no? pretty sure i’m right…”

eating a lollipop and daryl walks right up and pulls it out of your mouth and puts it in his (or vise versa).

having a journal that you can both communicate in. we all know daryl isn’t the best at communicating his feelings verbally and maybe you aren’t either, so you just write back and forth to each other.

i love the journal idea because you would use it for everything. daryl has to be up early to help rick with something? he’ll scribble a quick “helping rick. come find me.” and as soon as you wake up and feel the void in bed beside you, you go right to the journal.

him getting hard as fuck when you give shane attitude (farm era).

you get into an accident on a run and ending up losing a lot of blood and you wake up later in the infirmary. “ya’ lost a lotta blood,” he says. “then i bet you did too…” you smiled groggily knowing that he gave you some of his (he’s a universal donor).

rubbing aloe vera on his sunburnt skin and he just lets out these sexy ass heavy breaths.

him watching you get visibly frustrated when someone else is helping you with something, but not doing it the way you want it done, so daryl steps in and tells them to get lost.

daryl giving you cold medicine while you’re sick and he makes you take it in front of him and open your mouth to show him that you swallowed it.

a/n: these are my favorite scenarios to imagine when I'm in class :) if you wanna use any of these ideas for a fic, tag me! i'd love to see them!

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writella · 4 months

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A Different Kind of Ride

Synopsis: Reader wants to ride Daryl’s bicep!

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader. Just smut, (bicep) riding, masturbation (m). I think they’re both giving switch vibes, they enjoy watching, and are obsessed with their partner’s body. Overall, lots of grinding, desperation, and Daryl wanting to panty sniff— slay. Mostly proofread. wc: 1.7k.

A/N: Literally sighing and moaning and licking my lips while thinking about this. He’s so fine. Also hi!!! I missed you all. with love, writella. ♡

The scene starts in his room. He’s laying almost slanted on the bed. His head rests near the bottom half of where the pillows reside. His shirt is off, but his pants remain. His tools and weapons were still attached to his lower hips. He was dirty. Grimey and sweaty. Small strands of his hair sticking to his face, while the rest fell effortlessly above his shoulders and onto the bed.

You, on the other hand, were clean. Dried, soft, and smelling of fresh creamy white soap in your pajamas, all ready for sleep.

You didn’t care though. That’s what you get when you want him. And you liked the rattle, and cling, and thump of his belt as you continued to bounce and grind down on the area where his cock resides. Clothed and covered under two layers but the way his bulge pressed and squished perfectly into you was more than enough. Not to mention how the seam of your shorts made its way into your folds adding an extra amount of friction that scratched your clit just perfectly.

It all felt just as good as having him inside of you, honestly. Your eyes rolled back and then closed, your mouth stays slightly open. Your top teeth come to bite your bottom lip every time you rocked forward and the feeling was just right. You start pushing deeper and harder, your hands rest of his chest for assistance as your eyes screw tight: you were focused.

“Need you, need you, want you; it feels so good; please, please,” are the thoughts that scream inside you as you quickly and tightly press down into his groin and then start to jump: imagining him thrusting into you all short and fast— it feels like a little a bounce-bounce-bounce-bounce motion, accompanied in unison by pants that make you go into a quick and breathy “hm-hm-hm-hm.”

Then you start to rock on him again, it’s like an ocean wave: pushing up as high as you can go, and then pushing all the way down and letting your clit feel him from bottom to top— “mmm, ah,” you whine.

Your eyes are scrunched so tight, giving it your all, trying your bestest like the good little girl you are; determined to make yourself come. You needed it.

And Daryl sees it. He watches. Mesmerized by the focus and determination of your entire body.

He can’t tell if he’s the one in control because of your desperation and how little you need from him to get you soaked, or if it’s you because of your position, and because of how effortlessly you have taken control to reach your high.

Either way, you’re both intoxicated by each other. You were on him almost instantly as he entered the room, after all. And he let it happen. You told him you missed him, you went to hug him, he kissed your forehead and messed up your hair, giving you a sleepy “hey,” with a bashful smile only saved for you. Then wordlessly he let you take off his vest and shirt, pushing him onto the bed— which did nothing in actuality, he was almost immovable, but as your hands pressed on his shoulders, he went down anyway. Down for the ride, enjoying the sight.

So much so that his eyes are dazed as the look upon you. Looking at how your waist contorts in unison with the rock of your hips on top of him, how your nipples harden under your shirt, how putting your hands on his chest and every time he makes one of his dark and gruffy sounds makes your pussy jerk and you moan louder.

His hands grab onto your hips, pushing you forward. He sees how the shape of your little shorts molded into your pussy lips as you grind down. He bets they’re drenched in that area now. If you come in them, he wants to suck on it, and then rip them off and eat you out when you’re done.

His hands trail higher, securing themselves onto your waist. You grab his arms then as you continue to rock, going from his forearms to his biceps, feeling the curves. You open your eyes, you don’t even catch his entrancement at the area of where your bodies meet. You focus on the divets of his arms, how strong he is, how big he is. It makes you whine frustratingly, pushing into him faster.

Suddenly, you get off of him and onto your knees, hurrying to take your shorts off.

Daryl’s eyes don’t even look at you, “Give ‘em,” he says as you reach for the hem. He looks straight at the wet and sweaty pair on you, eyeing the wet spot that has spread in the area of your mound. Truly he could see almost everything despite the cover by the way they folded into you.

The demand doesn’t even surprise you as much as it excites you. You throw them at his face. No questions.

You extend his arm on the bed, his hand sprawled flat. Stroking it, you breathlessly say, “I want this.” You're desperate but you wait for approval, but he has his other hand on his face, holding your thrown shorts over his nose and mouth like a mask, breathing you in. His breath inward is loud and it’s followed by a deep and raspy hum. It made your pussy jut, your eyes widen, your mouth gasp. You whine impatiently, inserting your finger into your hole as he moves the part with the seam to his nose, breathing it in again, and then, sucking it dry with his mouth, watching your fingers spread more wetness all over your pussy.

You moan and your body shakes with his eye contact. “Please?” You ask him with a pout.

He moves his arm you held to use both hands to undo his belt. He sees that you continue to rub your clit with a sad look on your face as you wonder what he’s going to do. He drops his pants to the ground and you watch his boxers make a tent on top of his hard cock as he places his arm back where you put it.

“Go on,” he tells you finally, giving you a nod. “Do whatever you want.”

Ecstatically, you move your knees on either side of him, lowering down, and letting your wet pussy lips open around the curves of his upper arm, taking up as much of him as they can. It’s only a little, your tiny lips can only cover so much, but it feels great. You clit presses down against his arm perfectly, getting the direct attention you desired.

You begin to rock and it feels as perfect as you expected. Your mouth opens again and your eyes flutter close, focusing on your task— riding his bicep and making yourself come. You were determined.

Daryl’s dick twitches as he watches you. His other hand comes behind his head, resting it under him to tilt his head up a bit, getting more comfortable as he gazes on your blissed out expression.

It felt great to know how attracted you were to him. That even his arms alone could have your pussy become a sopping mess. At this rate he knew you would come tonight from that alone. The thought makes precum slip from his tip and make him grunt and hum lowly; he just couldn’t get enough of watching you. Like a little horny-teenaged-babygirl discovering grinding for the first time, doing it on anything she could to feel a release.

It made him finally push down his boxers and touch himself. He spits on his hand and begins to stroke his cock. He started to pump, his grunts becoming more strangled, he couldn’t even attempt to start edging eventually. You looked so cute and pathetic, so sexy. He wanted to come with you.

You moan from your movements and from hearing his voice. It makes your eyes flutter open as your head tilts, catching a glimpse of Daryl working on himself which makes you open them all the way. Now you rock as you watch him. “Oh, Daryl,” you plead.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He asks gruffly. Giving you direct eye contact as he pumps.

“I’m making you want to touch yourself like that?” You ask sweetly, giggling as you continue to rub your clit just right against him. “Huh, Daryl?” His dick and his hand looked so veiny and angry as pumped. It made you moaned again. “Fuck, you’re so handsome.”

Daryl almost chokes on his breath. Every mean and grumpy comment he could have left him. All he has grunts and you can swear he almost growls because of your little smile and the way he watches your breasts fall out from your shirt as you take it off. He’s speechless and pumping into his hand faster, watching as your pussy tries to engulf the entirety of his arm.

You grind down faster, pushing and pushing forward and backward on his bicep until you feel a yummy hotness rise. Your clit felt like it was on fire with goodness, you finally were about to explode. You pant and moan and Daryl begins to pump himself harder. His hand slapping against his skin, his voice making a low sound every time he reaches the end of his shaft. All there is, is the sound of him and you and your voices— nonsensical, reaching your peaks.

Your breath hitches, and your hands come to the bed, your back arches and your head tilts forward as you go harder and harder, furiously pushing into him until finally— “OH!”— you come.

He isn’t far behind. He watches your eyes roll back and your mouth open wide, your moan and the feeling of his arm being drenched telling him you reached your orgasam which makes him do so as well. A strangled groan, quick and paused, erupts and is then interrupted by another more loud moan as hot spurts of white jump out onto his leg and the bed.

You look on breathlessly. Your movements now slowed but continuous as you bring yourself down from your high, his come messing up the sheets making you whine from the sight.

When you both catch your breaths and you move your thighs from his arm his hands grab you by the hips. His movements direct you to sit on his groin as you once did before.

He wants to see how you ride on his cock now.

And of course, you oblige.

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

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theteasetwrites · 7 months

Text

Begin Again

Chapter 2: Ami ou Ennemi?

❧ Media: The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon ❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: violence, scary situation ❧ Word Count: 4.8k

❧ In This Chapter: On the road west, things take a turn when the first people you and Daryl come into contact with in France turn out to be a bit less welcoming than you'd hoped they would be. Meanwhile, a watchful pair of eyes just might be what saves you.

❧ A/N: Okay so this was going to cover the whole rest of the first episode but I didn't want to cram it all into one giant chapter, so here's a smaller (kinda boring tbh) chapter! This chapter is necessary because it leads up to the kick-off of the storyline in Chapter 3, which I promise will be MUCH more interesting (and have way better Reader x Daryl interactions, of course). But for now, please enjoy this chapter! I am having so much fun writing for the spin-off ahhh

Carried by a limp and an aimless hope still lingering in your heart, you walked.

In fact, you walked for days. About five total, you were sure. Well, you couldn’t be too sure. Everything was a blur, and you’d given up keeping track with the tally marks you’d scribbled on the edge of the map. All you could bother to rely on now was the natural movement of the earth, the sun rising on one shoulder, setting on the other. Then a few hours of sleepless sleep, then walking again, through what seemed to be a once sparsely populated countryside, amongst a collage of ancient ruins.

From your navigation, you’d determined that the snow-capped mountains you walked just at the base of were those of the Pyrenees. For miles you walked along those foothills of thick green shrubbery and ever-expanding stretches of woods, through which a wide gravel road snaked and occasionally branched into small hamlets or mysterious medieval ruins you didn’t care too much to research.

As your eyes squinted hard at the map you’d come to loathe the now taunting familiarity of, you felt your steps slow to a halt, crushing the ancient gravel underneath you with a dying enthusiasm. Daryl followed behind you, himself preoccupied as well, but by the wound on his arm, which had been festering for almost two days now.

You’d been tending to it, of course. Daryl could’ve done so himself, but you hardly trusted him to be as diligent with the care of his own injuries as you were.

The good news seemed to be that the burn did not inflict a fever upon him, or have any other kind of deadly effect. Still, as Daryl put so eloquently, “It hurts like a son of a bitch.”

You turned around, approaching him as he studied the burn, in the distinctive shape of a handprint. Taking his arm in your hand, you frowned at the festering wound, still a little too raw for your liking.

It seemed to be healing a little, though, with only slight accumulations of yellowish fluid around the parts where flesh had been burnt. That was good. It meant the wound was draining properly, exuding serous liquid that would help the flesh to heal and eventually scar over. But the inflammation, the redness, worried you.

“It’s not purulent,” you said. “So that’s good.”

Daryl looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t have to speak to convey his confusion at the SAT vocabulary word.

“There’s no pus,” you clarified. “No green drainage… But we should cover it up again.”

Nearby, you settled by an abandoned car, mangled and ravaged by time. It was a good cover for the moment as you sifted through a first aid bag you’d scavenged yesterday. Thank God you had, otherwise his arm might’ve looked much worse than it had.

As he knelt beside you, you set out a roll of gauze, then uncapped your canteen of water. Daryl couldn’t complain too much about you using the water to wash his wound now, considering how much it was beginning to burn.

The sting was worse than yesterday as you poured the cool liquid over it. You yourself winced at the sound of Daryl’s hiss, knowing full well that his tolerance for pain was much higher than anyone you knew, so that burn must’ve been agonizing.

Spinning the gauze around his arm, you wrapped the burn tight. He sighed softly in temporary relief, but he could already feel the festering begin to return.

The back of your hand situated itself against his forehead, brushing back the loose hairs as you did so.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. He was warm. Daryl always ran a little warm, of course. You’d often referred to him as a human heater. But this was off for Daryl, warmer than you were used to feeling.

It terrified you.

The thought that this burn could be akin to a bite was one which haunted you the last two nights, keeping you ten times more aware of Daryl’s state at all times.

You’d seen plenty of people in the process of turning. You’d known the signs. It was hard to tell now. Daryl didn’t have enough of a fever to render him fatigued, but it was enough to worry you.

“How do you feel?” you asked, still brushing back the hairs that framed his face, as if fixing his hair could somehow improve his condition.

“Like shit.” He took a sip of water from your canteen. A small sip, of course, lest he leave you without enough water to keep you moving.

“You just need some rest,” you said, watching as he began to lift himself to his feet, with half his body weight supported by the spear that had served largely as his walking stick.

Clearly, he wasn’t going to be resting anytime soon.

“I’ll rest when the sun goes down,” he replied gruffly, while a gust of wind began to blow his hair in wild patterns across his face. You rose up, too, despite your body’s inescapable urge to sleep right there on the gravel. “We still got a few hours of sunlight… Best to keep movin’.”

With a strained grunt, he reached for his spear, pressing it into the dirt below as he started to lift himself, using the spear as leverage.

The day Daryl would listen to you when you asked him to rest was the day Hell would freeze over, but you couldn’t fight him. After all, you weren’t itching to stay put in any one place for too long. You had to keep moving, to try to find some kind of way back home.

You raised yourself to your feet alongside him, reaching into your backpack to tuck the gauze and your canteen back inside. But there was a slight tremble in your hand, and a racing of your heart as your body reacted to the intense burn of a distant stare before your mind even could.

Daryl felt it, too.

Practically in sync, both of you turned to face the direction of the stare. There was a cliff just ahead, surrounded by lush shrubbery. The distance was great enough to ease your paranoia, but still too close for comfort.

There was a figure atop the cliff, looking down. Well, you supposed so, despite not being able to make out the figure’s face. What you could see was a reddish cowl encircling their head, but the rest was simply the shape of a human, standing still, watching.

It sent a shiver down your spine, the inescapable fear of being watched suddenly taking hold over you. It was something you’d known since childhood, with frequent nightmares of a decrepit elderly man cupping his hands as he looked in through the window of your childhood bedroom, smiling wide at you. Despite your dream self’s attempts to escape, you couldn’t move, you could only cry as the man stared at you, watching you.

But of course, that man was only a figment of your imagination, a childhood fear that stuck with you all through your life. You hadn’t thought of that man in years, but now, feeling the eyes of a stranger on you, you felt it again. Only this was real. Well, perhaps it was a mirage, induced by the emptiness in your stomach and the fog in your head, but it did not matter. There was nothing you could do. Maybe that was what was so frightening about it.

“C’mon.” Daryl’s hand brushed your forearm, dislodging you from that momentary stupor. Fortunately, he seemed much less perturbed by the mysterious apparition, though he couldn’t deny the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Keep movin’.”

So you did, following behind him by just a few steps, until he stopped abruptly shortly after, examining the road sign standing before him. On its pole, a small piece of paper was plastered to it, with handmade strokes of black paint spelling out three words: DIEU VOUS AIME.

Your curiosity piqued, you quickly shrugged off one strap of your backpack, reaching back to unzip the largest pouch and grab the French-English dictionary you’d so wisely picked up back at the boat in Marseille.

Looking between the pages and the sign, you flipped through the book, until the phrase appeared among the list of D’s.

Daryl looked at you in waiting as you let out a slightly amused huff.

“God loves you,” you said.

“Pfft.”

An hour or so down the road, and the eerie light of the dying afternoon had begun its domain.

Sleep was the new objective, somewhere to hang your hats for the night that would soon be upon you.

Just ahead, beyond a desolate field of tall, green grass, was a lone building, decrepit and overgrown, with a thick, swirling layer of fog rolling over the ground at its base. Not particularly inviting, but it could be a good place for shelter.

The place was dilapidated, to the point where you could hardly tell what it had once been, but there was just enough shelter to provide some protection from the elements, and the dead. It looked as though there had once been a fire, as the walls were blackened and opened up into a courtyard through a section of destroyed wall.

As you stepped carefully, quietly, over fallen beams and overgrown twining vines, you set sight on a string tied between a bush and the wall, stretching across the walkway with rusty tin cans tied to the twine. Either someone had once called this place home, or someone still did.

Stepping over the trap, Daryl went first, with you following shortly behind, alertness as high as it possibly could be given the famished state you were in.

A rustling from your right startled you. Daryl moved somewhat quickly to peer around the edge of the wall into the open courtyard—a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, standing by an overgrown well and pouring the water from the bucket into a tin pail.

Daryl didn’t get a very detailed look at the woman nor the area, but he could tell that he didn’t want anything to do with it.

You weren’t so sure, however. People were exactly who you needed. You wouldn’t be able to get home without people, and maybe this woman knew English. She could help you, somehow.

But Daryl backed up, too fast for you to notice that he was about to activate the tripwire just behind him.

As the cans rattled together, making a loud clanging sound, you almost felt a bit of relief.

Looking back towards the woman, you began to step forward, ahead of Daryl, who followed rather reluctantly.

Unsure of what to say as you met the woman’s gaze, coming further into the pale light of the diminishing day, you raised your hands up in a gesture of peace which you hoped was universal. Daryl followed suit, moving close behind you, despite his instinctual urge to stand in front of you. It took a great deal of willpower not to, but he figured you were possibly more friendly looking than him, with the huge spear he used as a walking stick.

“Bonjour,” was the only word you could make out, the rest was a blur of very beautiful-sounding gibberish. From an archway leading further into the building behind the woman came an elderly man hobbling in on a cane. So far, the first two French people you’d met turned out to be rather unintimidating, which was a good sign.

The two of you kept moving forward, perhaps more out of confusion than curiosity, but a part of you just wanted some semblance of human interaction. As much as you loved Daryl and his company, it was a sight for sore eyes to come face-to-face with another woman, even if you couldn’t understand anything she said.

But she seemed friendly enough, raising her hand in a wave as she carried the pail across the way, coming closer, but never too close. Finally, she spoke another word you could understand: “Madame? Monsieur?”

You turned to look at Daryl, whose face looked confounded, bordering on worried.

As per usual, you’d have to be the more sociable one.

“I’m sorry,” you began speaking, despite your fear that speaking in English might be a waste of breath. “We don’t understand you.”

On the contrary, the woman seemed… excited.

“Ay!” she exclaimed, the old man now right behind her as they slowly but surely moved closer. “You Americans? And I speak English very good!” Her mouth formed into a wide smile. So far, so good. “What’s crackin’, noobs?”

Despite your slight confusion at her use of the colloquial term, one you had not heard since you were in college, you smiled back, nodding.

The woman spoke another French term, and waved her hand, gesturing for you to come closer. You did so, despite Daryl’s hesitation as he looked at you. He didn’t have to speak or even sign to indicate what he thought: I don’t trust them.

But it didn’t matter whether either of you trusted them or not. They had food. They must’ve, as they looked to be pretty settled here, at least for the night.

He followed your lead, stepping faster to match your pace as you moved closer, further into the courtyard.

“My, uh… grandfather, he hurt the ankle” the woman spoke again, carrying her pail of water to a gently roaring fire. Around it were a few bags and crates used as seats. A modest setup, but comforting nonetheless. “Only… Only small English, him.” She gestured towards her grandfather, whose eyes were covered by a black cloth wrapped around his head. Still, he waved in your general direction, then started to speak.

“Hello,” he said.

You smiled, your heart beginning to soften at the sight of the poor elderly man. You always did have a soft spot for older people, one which Daryl feared would make you a little too eager to spare your medical supplies.

“Hello,” you spoke back.

Daryl said nothing.

The woman’s face turned more serious now. “You got medical?” You did not answer, unsure of what to say. While you did have it, you weren’t so sure you’d give it away on a whim. You already had one old man to take care of—Daryl. “We trade you for apple or, um, uh… a rabbit, maybe.”

“Very good rabbit,” chimed in the old man.

Daryl heard rabbit, and suddenly he was walking past you, coming closer to the woman as he slung his backpack off his shoulders.

The man was always food-motivated, afterall.

Setting his pack on the ground, he kneeled as he rummaged for the first aid kit. For a moment, he held it up, then tossed it underhand towards the woman.

“Merci,” said the old man.

“Merci,” the woman repeated, the first aid kit now in her hands. She pointed towards a wooden crate just a few yards away. “Food there.”

Daryl did not hesitate, hurriedly crossing over to the crate as if the offer would be taken away at any second. You followed suit, coming up behind him and taking the handful of shiny, red apples that he held out to you, while he himself bit into one and chewed it hungrily.

“So,” the woman continued, but for a moment, you couldn’t hear her over the sound of your own chewing as you bit into an apple. “Where are you going to?”

This time, Daryl answered before you even had a chance to speak. The fact that they had given you food must’ve warmed him up a little bit.

“Back where we came from,” he said matter-of-factly, looking up at the woman to address her, then returning to gathering as many apples in his hands as he could.

“Across the ocean?” questioned the woman again.

“Yeah,” Daryl answered.

As he stood up, you both looked curiously at the woman, who spoke something to the old man in their native language. They appeared to be laughing, too. You wondered, in that self-conscious way the two of you shared, if they were making fun of you. Not that it mattered terribly, since the idea of someone making fun of you was nothing compared to what most people in this world would do without any hesitation. If subtle ridiculing was the worst of what you got out of these people, you’d consider yourselves lucky.

With a huff, the woman sat herself down on an upside down crate, whilst holding the skewered rabbit that had been roasting over the fire. Your mouth practically watered at the sight, which must’ve meant you were truly on the verge of starving. It took a lot for you to want to eat a rabbit.

“I’m Maribelle,” she said with a smile. Next, she pointed to her grandfather. “Um, he Guillaume. So maybe we go together, you know?”

That piqued your interest, but Daryl moved behind you, taking the apples to his pack and almost hurriedly stuffing them inside.

“Get somewhere safe, maybe?” Maribelle continued, and you wanted so much to say something, to say yes. Anything would help. Of course, you knew you couldn’t trust these people, and something about them, despite their friendliness, threw you off. Daryl must’ve felt it, too, because almost as soon as he settled in, he was ready to get out of there. “You can help us. We can help you find a way.”

Following Daryl, you knelt down beside him as he packed. You couldn’t speak much above a very hushed whisper. “They can help us get back.”

He looked up at you momentarily, a stern look in his eye. “No.”

“Hey, yankees.” Suddenly, Guillaume spoke up. You both looked his way.

Guillaume spoke more, but only in French. You turned your attention back to Maribelle, your eyes begging for translation.

She spoke with a slight laugh. “All the time he talk about World War II.”

“La résistance,” Guillaume continued, like the ramblings of your grandfather. In fact, you recalled his stories from that war, how young he was when he was stationed in England. Not quite France, but close enough. “U.S. GI’s fight together. Your country, my country. Like friends.”

Daryl did not say anything, only turned his attention back to packing his bag. You stood up slowly, managing a smile. You weren’t sure if the man could see it, but you wanted to somehow convey to him that you appreciated his ideology. Afterall, you needed friends.

But you couldn’t think of what to say. You knew Daryl was not going to budge, and it wasn’t your place to accept his offer of friendship. All you could do was think of something nice to say, but before you could, Guillaume spoke again, catching onto the silence that lingered for several moments.

“You are no friend,” he said, a tinge of vitriol in his voice.

“There ain’t no countries no more, neither,” Daryl replied.

You huffed, frustrated by his coldness. It wasn’t your favorite side of Daryl, his harshness, but you couldn’t entirely blame him—he was stressed, injured, and sad. You could tell, despite him never letting it really show. He held emotions inside, whereas you wore them on your sleeve. Still, you knew him better than anyone else, and you knew that this situation you found yourselves in was taking a greater toll on him than even he realized. You hadn’t pressed him about it much, but you knew: he missed your babies.

He missed home. He missed your friends. He missed the life he’d devoted himself to creating with you. Ultimately, he was tired.

Before you could try to talk some sense into him, though, you heard something that startled you: a distant roaring of an engine, coming closer. Fast.

Daryl stood up quickly as a rather militaristic looking jeep came through the wide archway into the courtyard. Two men were sitting in the front seat of the uncovered vehicle, both armed with guns.

Upon the hood of the vehicle was some kind of symbol painted in white that you couldn’t quite make out without taking your eyes off the two men as they stepped out, their guns seemingly locked and loaded.

Daryl kept a firm grip on his spear, you on your knife. Still, there wasn’t much you could do against a gun, especially in this open area.

As the men came forward, you took note of their appearance: each were heavily armed and wore camouflage patterns. They looked like some sort of paramilitary group, and from your history with such groups, you were not looking to make friends.

One of the men set his sights on you and Daryl, while saying something in French. All you could do was stare back at him, until he raised his gun, speaking again. This time, he spoke more commandingly.

Your heart dropped for a moment, but Maribelle spoke quickly to the man, then turned to face you both. She held her hands up, as if in surrender.

“Sit down, he said,” she said to you seriously.

Daryl exchanged a quick look with you, somewhere between reassurance and a warning of cautiousness. In situations like this, perhaps you fell into that old trap of taking the man’s lead, but Daryl had had a gun pointed at him many more times than you had, and it was true that he looked much more threatening than you, so you followed his lead, walking several steps with him over to the crates around the fire that were being used as seats. If you were going to sit down for two French assholes with guns, you were at least going to be a little bit comfortable.

Now sitting, each of you dropped your weapons, slowly raising your hands to match Maribelle. The two men seemed to trust you both much less than they did Maribelle and Guillaume, as both their guns were pointed towards you—one of you, one on Daryl. It was not quite reassuring.

One of the men began to speak to Maribelle again, going back and forth for a moment. The only word you could make out was American, which you weren’t sure was a good thing, given the way the man looked at you both suspiciously.

No, you did not like these guys one bit.

And now, after a few more rather ominous sounding words in French, he came forward, taking Maribelle by the shoulder and tugging on her jacket, pulling her away to God knows where. Though you couldn’t understand what he had said, you feared for Maribelle, knowing the kinds of things men could do, especially to women… It boiled your blood, especially as she tried to get away, yelling something at him in French and struggling against him.

The other man, meanwhile, kept his sawed-off double-barrelled shotgun pointed at Daryl, but he looked away, his eyes focused on the scene as the other man struggled to drag Maribelle away. When he became frustrated with her reluctance, he backhanded her hard, the force causing her to fall down with a thud.

And, with one look exchanged between you and Daryl, you knew it was time to do something… So much for making friends.

Daryl moved first, reaching for the knife he kept strapped to his leg and standing up to grab his spear with the other hand. He moved faster than you, and faster than the man who was supposed to be keeping an eye on you.

He used the blunt edge of his spear to first hit the man’s leg, then, as he raised his gun to defend himself, Daryl disarmed him, then dropped his spear to raise his knife and puncture his neck.

You stood up, too, sprinting towards the gun that had been dropped on the ground, while Daryl held the dying man in front of him like a meat shield. If there was one thing about Daryl, it was that he was resourceful.

But just before you could get your hands on the shotgun, the other man came towards you both, shouting in French as he held his gun out. In a matter of seconds, he fired, shooting towards Daryl.

The loud gunshot made you flinch and grab your ears as you instinctively flung yourself onto the ground, trying to dodge it. Immediately, though, you looked up, your sights setting on Daryl, himself on the ground, holding the left side of his neck and sticking out his right hand in surrender. The man did not seem so eager to show mercy, leaning down beside you to pick up the shotgun and point it towards Daryl.

“No!” you cried out rather helplessly, crawling on hands and knees to Daryl’s side. If you couldn’t sacrifice yourself for him, you’d die together. At least you’d die knowing you tried to save him.

But Maribelle moved quicker, striking the man in the back with Guillaume’s cane. The blow was so hard that he fell to the ground, allowing Daryl to quickly stand up and grab the shotgun. As he held his bleeding neck, he pointed the barrel towards the fallen man.

“Stop,” said Maribelle, coming forward with a spear. “Save the powder.” She plunged the spear into the man’s chest, causing you to wince in slight surprise.

Maribelle turned to Daryl, uttering a simple, “Merci.”

Quickly, you stood up, coming over to daryl and removing his hand from his neck to get a look at the damage. Obviously, the bullet must’ve only grazed him, because if the bullet had gone just a bit more to the right, he might not even have a head right now.

“Just a superficial graze,” you said, taking off your glove and pressing it to his face as a bandage, but of course you’d need something more suitable.

As you carefully helped him sit down on his knees, you called out to Maribelle, “Can you hand me the medical bag, please?”

All your attention, now, was on him, so much so that you didn’t notice how suspiciously silent it was, and how the two Frenchpeople did not seem eager to help.

But that was all peripheral to you, as you brushed back Daryl’s long hair to get a better look at the injury.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you said, with just a tiny curl of your lip to offer him some comfort.

And it did, his tired eyes softening as he felt your hand caress his cheek. Despite the stinging pain and the feeling of blood seeping into the glove you held tight against his wound, he couldn’t help but believe you. If there was anything in this world he truly believed in, after all, it was you.

But there was a horrible sense of suspicion growing between you, a lingering threat that became more and more apparent with each step the man behind Daryl took.

You raised your eyes, and Daryl turned to look at whatever had caught your attention—Guillaume.

His eyes were uncovered now, and beady with aggressive intent. But most startlingly, he held his wooden cane much too high for your comfort. He wielded it more like a baseball bat than a walking stick.

But he wouldn’t do what you thought he was going to do, would he?

Yes. He would.

The cane struck Daryl across the head, knocking him to the ground. Eyes wide as you started to lift yourself, you were met with the same fate: a strong hit to the head that sent you back down, reeling in pain.

You weren’t unconscious, though. Neither was Daryl, who opened his eyes despite the intense blurring that obstructed his vision. He caught sight of Guillaume, rummaging through his bag, while Maribelle got to work rifling through yours, throwing out its contents with carelessness as she seemed to be searching for something more useful than the maps and blankets you’d collected along the way from Marseille.

Notably, though, you watched the blonde Barbie doll you’d carefully tucked away in your bag get tossed behind her back like a worthless piece of junk. It almost riled you into a fit of sudden strength, but your head swam too much to allow your legs to carry you.

Your eyes became fixed on that doll, left abandoned amongst overgrown blades of faded green grass. Somewhere in your haze, as unconsciousness threatened to take over, was her voice, speaking the words she said to you before you left: “It’s okay, Mommy,” she said, her small voice echoing in the dizzied cavern of your head.

Just then, you felt a presence coming towards you, one which seemed both known and unknown.

Turning your head, your heavy eyes focused as well as they could on the approaching figure, cautiously side-stepping into the courtyard. Though you could not make out their face, you recognized one thing: a red cowl.

“We’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

A gunshot rang out, muffled by your fading consciousness. It had come from the approaching figure, and had seemingly run off Maribelle and Guillaume, which may have been either a good thing, or a bad thing.

“Maybe when you get back, Wes will know some more words.”

Your eyelids became immensely burdensome, and with each blink, you found yourself unable to keep them open for much longer.

“Yes… Robin…”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

#begin again series #begin again #the walking dead #the walking dead: daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon spin-off #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead: daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you

146 notes · View notes

feral4daryl · 5 months

Note

I would love to see a fic of Daryl with pregnant reader (bonus points if there’s a breeding kink [if you’re comfortable, I didn’t see it in the list] that results in her being that way). She’s concerned about the changes in her body and that he doesn’t find her attractive in her condition. So, Daryl gets to share his love for pregophillia. :)

masterlist || MDNI

depths of your despair.

daryl dixon x pregnant!reader

summary: after a series of misunderstandings, insecurities regarding your pregnancy start affecting your relationship with daryl. but as soon as he becomes aware of that, he makes it up to you, worshipping your pregnant body like he should've done since the beginning.

warnings: 18+ smut, pregophilia, dirty talk, pet names, praising, cunnilingus, degradation, daddy kink, creampie, impregnation, arguments, rough sex, pregnancy sex, outdoors sex, slight choking, dacryphilia, self-consciousness, manhandling (if you squint), squirting.

word count: 8.1k

a/n: tysm for your request, i really enjoyed writing this one <3 it turned out a tiny bit more angsty than i intended it to but i promised it has a happy ending!

“Tha's righ', doll” Daryl cooed against your ear, harshly gripping your hips to keep you in place while he pounded your tight cunt at a fast pace. His chest pressing on your back, making your body shake with intense pleasure at his every thrust, each one deeper than the previous. You could feel his sweat wetting your body, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Takin' daddy's cock so well like a good lil’ slut” The contrast between praising and degrading turns your brain into putty. That man knew all your weakest spots, he always knew exactly what to say to make you weak in the knees, struggling to keep yourself on your feet. You couldn't think of anything else or anyone else in that moment but him and the feeling of his big cock almost ripping your little cunny apart.

Daryl's always been the sweetest to you, always making sure you were safe, giving you all the shoulders when you cried, but when it came to sex, he was always just so eager and desperate for you that he couldn't help but be rough. He made every fucking feel like the last one, as if it was his last chance to ever lay his hands on you. He made it count, making you wonder how you were capable to have lived so many years without that man before you met him.

You tried to keep quiet, careful not to catch the attention of any of those walking dead fuckers' roaming around the woods while Daryl harshly abused you against a tree, whispering the dirtiest words into your ears. But he wasn't making it easy on you, and despite your effort, your moans and cries were getting louder and louder as you got closer to your high. He reveled in the way you bit your lips and threw your head back to rest it on his shoulder. He took the opportunity to let go of your hips and wrap his big arm around your throat, his other palm now pressing against your lips in an attempt to muffle your sounds.

“Shhh...” He shushed you. “Be nice 'n quiet fer daddy, yea?” His teasing words and a small nibble on your earlobe from him were all it took to make your legs finally fail as you sank to your knees. Instead of holding you up, he nearly finished throwing you on the dirt, laying your body flat on it. The tickling of the leaves and the rough texture of the ground could almost bother you if you weren't so lost in pleasure. He got even rougher, if that was possible, banging his hips against your ass so hard that made your moans shaky and your eyes start tearing up.

He loved whenever he gave you so much pleasure that you cried on his cock, the sight of thick tears running down your cheeks only fueling his twisted desires for you.

“Aww, wha's the matter, sunshine?” He mocked you, his voice coming out a bit louder than he expected. His piercing blue eyes looked around for a moment, searching for any threats but never stopping railing you. When he found none, he fully returned his attention to you, noticing the way your moans had practically dissipated and your had your eyes shut tight, a clear sign that you were dangerously close to cumming.

“Gunna cum fer daddy?” The volume of his groans and grunts getting harder and harder to hold back. You weren't able to speak with his hand pressed against your mouth and almost couldn't breathe with his big bicep wrapped around your throat, but you managed to nod slightly.

“Fuck, 'm gunna cum!” His needy voice filled your empty mind and you felt his hips stuttering when the rhythm of his thrusts started faltering. “Gunna fill ya up, make ya heavy w' ma babies.” You widened your eyes out, it was the first time he ever said something like that. But you were willing to give that man all he wanted, make his every wish come true like your life depended on it. You wouldn't say no to him and honestly, the thought of caring his children strangely turned you on even further. A faint smirk managed to creep on your face.

“Ya wan' tha', beautiful? Ya wan' Daddy ta make ya pregnant, hm?” How could you ever say no to him when the neediness in his voice was so obvious?

“P-please, fuck a baby into me.” The strangled sound of your voice while you begged him to fill you up was the fuse for him to finally start shooting ropes of cum into your velvety walls. Your tight pussy clenched around his cock as you weren't able to stop your own orgasm from dominating all your senses. It was like the world stopped spinning and the whole Universe contributed to make that moment perfect.

As both of you came down from your highs, Daryl gently brushed a strand of hair off your cheek, tugging it behind your ear to place a soft kiss to your temper. In that moment, the sounds of your labored breathing as you struggled to catch your breath was all that could've been heard until he let out a light chuckle.

“Can't believe we did this.” You could hear a smile in his voice while he pressed his cheek against the back of your head for a last time before adjusting his position, sitting down on the dirt and gently grabbing your arms, helping you do the same. Even though you were in the middle of the woods, you couldn't care less about it. All you wanted was to be in Daryl's strong embrace. “But I'm glad we did” You whispered, snuggling his chest.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀~4 months later~

It still felt vivid.

It's like you could still feel his love from 4 months ago, the way he groped your body and made love to you like it was the last time. How ironic, if somebody told you that was actually the last time, you would have laughed right in their face. Now, as you unwrapped the towel off your naked body and tossed it aside to stare at yourself into the mirror, you wondered if you'd made the right choice, if you really should've let the heat of the moment get the best of you.

Your belly was round and your bellybutton was puffing out, an unusual look to you but it's been your reality for the past 4 months. You didn't really know how to feel about it. You were happy to be the one having the privilege to carry Daryl's baby, but at the same time it still felt so new and strange to you. And the way he felt so distant since the day when he knocked you up was not helping you feel any better about it.

He wasn't exactly neglectful of your needs as a pregnant woman. He was always around you, making sure you were safe, helping you through the symptoms of pregnancy, holding your hair up whenever you threw up. He was there, but at the same time, he wasn't.

4 months ago Daryl used to be so eager for you, always so thirsty for you. And now, he just left you aching for his touch. Whenever you tried to initiate some intimacy, he turned you down, leaving you confused at his strange behavior. He definitely wasn't the type of guy to refuse sex, at least not after knowing you, so you started wondering if you were the problem.

The stretch marks on your belly were getting more and more obvious as the time passed, your breasts all swelled up with milk. You gained some weight, and as you leaned in closer to check on your face on the mirror, you could see how round your face was getting.

Disgust.

That's what you felt when you looked at yourself. You were so sure your looks were the reason why Daryl wanted nothing to do with your body ever since you got pregnant. As that feeling filled up your whole body, you quickly started putting some clothes on, not able to look at yourself like that not even for one more second. Maybe he didn't like you in dresses, you wondered, trying to find a reasonable motive for his absence when it came to the moments of intimacy between you two that used to be so frequent and special in your relationship. Anyways, loose dresses were all that fit your body as your belly grew bigger and bigger each day.

It just broke your heart. The feeling of helplessness took over you as thick tears ran down your face, smearing the makeup you started to put on to see if it would make him even just a little bit interested in you. But just as all your other attempts, it was useless. You brought your soft palm to your mouth to muffle your sobs, but that only reminded you of how Daryl used to do the same exact thing to muffle your moans when he loved your body. More and more tears streamed down your cheeks as you reminisced your last time together like that.

You made a decision. You didn't want to suffer like that anymore, so you decided that you were gonna try to get his attention for the last time before shutting down completely. You didn't wanna give his love up, but you were so tired of practically begging for him only for him to brush you off every time. You sighed and looked at yourself on the mirror for the last time, wiping your tears away and taking a deep breath before going about your day.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀~Later that same day~

It was dark and Daryl still hadn't come home from his run. He was out scavenging, or hunting, you weren't even sure since you didn't bother to ask much. You had promised yourself that you were going to try to be intimate with him one last time, but that day he just vanished, leaving you waiting for him all day until you gave up waiting. You weren't only disappointed, you were almost angry at him, trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. But who were you trying to fool? That didn't make you feel better at all and you weren't sure if he noticed it.

It was happening again, that one familiar knot started forming in your throat as your lips pouted and you pulled the blanket over your head, feeling embarrassed at your own vulnerability. You brought a hand to your own belly, gently stroking it. Oh, how you loved that little bundle of happiness that was growing inside you. But at the same time, you felt so strange about it. You loved your baby, that's for sure, but you felt like it was the reason why Daryl didn't want you anymore. At the same time it made you hopeful of a new beginning in life, it was reminder of the day when Daryl stopped finding you attractive, even remotely.

Once again you weren't able to hold your sobs back, but this time, you were forced to abruptly swallow them down when you heard the creak sound of the door being gently pulled open. You knew who it was, and you almost wish you didn't.

“Pumpkin'?” Daryl's quiet voice filled the room as he called you that stupid nickname he only used when he knew you were feeling down. You didn't answer.

Light footsteps could be heard getting closer and closer to the bed before you felt the weight of his body on the edge of the mattress. “Y/N, hun'?” He called for you again, but when he got no answer for the second time, he reached for you, gently touching your arm from over the blanket.

“What do you want?" Your tone sounded a bit harsher than you intended to, but you didn't care. He sighed.

“I think we need ta talk, pumpkin'” He voice, making you even more frustrated.

“Quit calling me that, alright?” The muffled sound of your voice reached his ear, and he flinched a little at your sudden aggressiveness, removing his hand from you.

He was silent for a moment, digesting your strange reaction after speaking again with an even softer tone. “Aigh'.” He sighed. “Listen, Y/N...” It's like he was struggling to form a sentence. He was never really the type of person to have the right words or to know what to say to comfort somebody, but he tried nonetheless.

“I need ta know wha's happenin' if ya wan' me ta help.” He muttered. You almost felt guilty at the way you were treating him, but you had enough.

“Ugh, Daryl.” The way you said his name had a hint of scorn, a clear reflexion of the troubled feelings in your heart. You finally pulled the blanket off your face, lifting your body up to sit down on the mattress in a quick and almost aggressive motion. “Who the fuck said I need your help? Just leave me alone, ignore me like you always do.” You spitted out, looking deep into Daryl's widened out eyes. “I don't want you here.” You continued. You knew damn well you were saying all that because you thought that's how he felt, like some sort of revenge, but your heart was broken because of him. It was his fault and you were tired of pretending everything was okay. “Why don't you go fuck some other slut out there? Maybe they're better, thinner, prettier than me!” Your tone was filled with hurt as you voiced your insecurities. “Maybe you should be with them once and for all.” You practically whispered that last line, muttering under your breath.

The truth was you started considering the possibility of Daryl having an affair behind your back ever since you got pregnant. And you just couldn't take it, you couldn't help the way your heart shattered at the thought of Daryl putting his hand on another woman, making her feel good just how he used to do when he still loved you. You were so sure he hadn't left you yet just because he wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing that he left a pregnant woman behind. You knew that was the only reason was he still bothered to even talk to you.

Daryl was so dumbfounded by your attitude, since you were usually such a sweet and caring person, that he freezed. He didn't know what to say or do, so he just sit there, looking obviously negativity affected by your harsh words, wondering what the hell did he do to deserve that kind of treatment.

“Y/N-” He started talking, but you were having none of it. You spent so long begging him attention that now you just didn't want it anymore. When he threatened to scoop closer in a final attempt to ease things out, you surprised him by pushing him away from you with your hand pressed on his chest. “Get out!" You practically yelled. That was the most shocked you've ever seen Daryl's face before. After a moment, he averted his gaze to the floor, looking lost in thought before standing up and nodding slowly, knowing better than to push you harder. He walked to the door and closed it behind him, finally leaving you alone as you wanted him to. Or at least that's what you thought.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ *One week later*

You haven't seen Daryl since your last one-sided argument. If you missed him before, now the feeling got even worse. Ever since he closed that door a week ago, you haven't even heard of him. Maybe he'd left you for good. But could you blame him? You literally kicked him out of your life like it didn't matter. But after all, he was the one that made it feel like it didn't matter. That's what you had to keep feeling yourself, trying to comfort your poor soul or make yourself feel any less guilty. It didn't really work, though.

You tried. When he was gone for the first day, you wasted no time before trying to make it up to all the time you lost longing for him. You flirted with random men and women, trying to catch a glimpse of that feeling you used to get when Daryl gave you attention, but it wasn't the same, it didn't feel remotely similar. Maybe pushing him away like that was a mistake, maybe you had really lost him.

But fuck it. You were pregnant with his baby and he still had the gut to leave you behind. You had every single right to be mad and to try to restart your life, this time away from him. Even though it had been only one week, it felt like an eternity, every second he wasn't there made you feel every cell on your body begging for him, but you couldn't give in.

Sigh.

Spencer. You noticed the way he looked at you before and after you got pregnant. His gaze didn't change, he still licked his lips and looked you up and down with that stupid smirk on his face everytime you walked by. He was often the reason for arguments between you and Daryl when you were still together, but now, there was nothing stopping you. Not that you were attracted to him exactly, to be honest, he kind of annoyed you, but you just wanted to try. You just wanted to give yourself a chance to be loved, actually loved, not only for your looks. Deep inside, you knew you were just needy to feel something, anything, but you couldn't be blamed for wanting to feel okay after such a long time of feeling neglected.

You turned your head to search for him just to notice he was already staring from afar. You turned your head to face forward again, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the way he looked at you. Now that Daryl was gone, that type of behavior wasn't unusual coming from Spencer. He got even more spunky than before, flirting with you every single time he had the opportunity to. You swallowed your pride, trying to convince yourself that you were actually into him, taking a moment to decide whether or not to approach him and try something. You knew he wouldn't reject you, you just needed to dominate your heart that was still very much in love with Daryl and move on with your life, and maybe trying something with someone new was the first step to finally get over him.

As you gathered up the nerve to walk over to Spencer, slowly turning your body, you gasped in surprise noticing that he was already standing behind you. You were so lost in thought that you didn't even hear him approaching you.

“Easy there, doll.” He uttered. It felt weird to have anyone else that wasn't Daryl calling you pet names, but you quickly shook those thoughts away, trying to focus on the present. “Hey.” You answered, sounding significantly more uninterested than you meant to.

“What's eating you?” He pondered with a hint of playfulness in his voice and that stupid grin once again when he noticed your stiffness.

“Nothing.” You faked a smile. “What you been up to?” You tried to remain polite but flirty at the same time, trying your best to cover up how much you found him annoying. It was for the best, you thought. You just needed to adapt.

“Well...” He came closer. You had to fight all the urges to step away. “You know, the usual. I was just...” His fingers brushed your cheek before tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. Too close. But you continued playing along as he resumed his speech. “... Admiring your beauty.” God, could he get any cornier than that? It's like everyone that wasn't Daryl just looked so stupid trying to get your attention. There was you again, thinking about the archer. You sighed, failing to mask your lack of interest towards Spencer, but you managed to speak either way.

“Uh... Thanks...” You scratched the back of your head, feeling uncomfortable at his advances, but you tried to remind yourself that that whole thing meant a new start.

He looked so full of himself when he puffed his chest and had the audacity to say: “Can I follow you home?” You tilted your head in confusion. “Huh?” For the first time since you acknowledged his presence, he actually had your attention.

“Cause my parents always told me to follow my dreams.” He said that as if it was the most genius thing one could say. You had to make physical effort not to throw up or burst out laughing right there and then. The hell was that supposed to mean? Were you really the type of woman to fall for corny pick-up lines? But... You didn't really had other options. You had to give him a chance, maybe he was the one.

Either way, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything, so you just stood there with a stupid fake smile on your face. Spencer must've interpreted that as an invitation, because he leaned in, his face inches away from yours. You two weren't even 3 minutes into that conversation and he was already all over you. You wondered if that whole situation was awkward just for you, because he behaved as if he had you wrapped tight around his finger.

You really, really wanted to start running right away from him, but you were paralyzed, trying to decide if you should stay or go. But before you could make up your mind, he pulled you in by the back of your head, connecting your lips together.

Ugh.

It was probably the most awkward kiss of your life, as if you just forgot how to kiss in that moment. You widened your eyes out at the uncalled situation, and as he licked, bit and kissed your lips, yours remained stiff, like he was kissing you but you weren't kissing him. You felt deeply disgusted. What were you doing? Just like your lips, your arms were rigid on your sides, but his hands were roaming all over your body. You felt assaulted, even though you were allowing him to do that.

You wondered how the hell you ended up there: pregnant, with a missing boyfriend and making out with some douchebag out of emotional deprivation. In that moment, it finally clicked, you were just trying to fill the hole Daryl's absence left in your heart, and putting up with Spencer's audacious manners was no way of dealing with grief.

You finally pushed him away, accidentally sounding too annoyed. “See you around.” You spitted out before turning around and leaving him standing there in confusion, or maybe confidence, you didn't know since you didn't bother to study his reaction before quickly entering the house you were settled in in Alexandria.

You closed the door behind you, pressing your hands on your face, fighting the urge to scream and let all that frustration out. You slowly slid your back against the wooden door until your bottom reached the floor. If one word could describe you right now, it was helpless. For the hundredth time in the past few months, you started crying. It was like it was all you knew how to do since you lost control of your life. Oh, how you regretted that one moment 4 months ago where you slipped, causing your life to be destroyed right before your eyes while not being able to do a thing about it. Now not only you felt ugly, but you felt ugly and lonely. Your sobs got louder and louder as you wrapped your arms around your legs, lowering your head to press your forehead to your knees.

Knock-knock

Suddenly, you heard a knock at the door. You abruptly interrupted your crying, feeling embarrassed at the possibility that someone's heard you like that. After a few seconds, you heard another knock. You sighed.

“Leave me alone...” You muttered loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door. You knew it was probably Carol coming to visit, maybe bringing you some cookies or something like that to make you feel better. It was so sweet of her, but you hated how everyone was treating you ever since Daryl disappeared. You just couldn't take the look in their eyes, the so obvious pity they felt. After all, you were a recently abandoned mother, and Carol along with your other group mates, just wanted to be there for you. Little did they know they were just making it worse.

When you were starting to think the person finally left, you heard a third knock on the door. Whoever was there, didn't seem to be giving up soon. You almost felt grateful for having someone give a shit about you, but deep down you just wanted to be left alone. You breathed out for a last time before standing up with difficulty due to your heavy pregnant belly and reaching for the doorknob, contemplating whether you should let them in or not. Then, you turned it and slowly pulled the door open.

Your eyes remained glued to the floor, not having the courage to look into anyone's eyes right now. Then, to your surprise, a familiar hoarse voice made its way to your ears.

“The hell was tha'?” You swiftly lifted you chin up, locking eyes with him, the man who left you when you needed him the most. He definitely had seen your pathetic attempt of feeling appreciated with Spencer. For a millisecond, you were actually relieved to see Daryl, but quickly enough anger flooded your senses once again. It's like it was all coming back to you, the same exact feeling from one week ago when you saw him for the last time making your blood boil once again. How did he dare to disappear into the world and then come back as if nothing happened?

You didn't wanna waste no more time with him and that situation anymore, it was just too nerve-wracking and you just needed a break from all that. So you aggressively pushed the door aiming to slam it on his face, but he was more cunning and placed a hand on the way, stopping it from closing all the way.

“Please, Y/N!” He almost shouted, visibly impatient. You turned your back and started walking further into the house, ignoring his calls for you.

“Can ya please just talk ta me?!” He continued, following you around. You remained trying to disconsider his presence.

“Why r ya doin' this fer, woman?!” Now, he finally yelled. It was the first time he ever raised his voice at you. In that moment, you felt like any hint of the caring man you once loved had faded away forever. The feeling hit you like a truck and you stopped your angry steps, turning around so your back was facing him. You couldn't stop your tears from falling not even if you wanted to, and suddenly, all your anger was replaced with a deep sadness. You weren't even trying to muffle your loud noises, sniffing and sobbing hard. When he saw you like that, he decided to just drop it and pretend like he hadn't seen you kissing that bastard. It felt a sacrifice to him, but he didn't want to make you feel worse than you already did.

For a few moments, Daryl gave you some space, not trying to startle you or make things worse. Then, after a while of silence and almost feeling as if you were alone in the room, you felt a warm breath hitting your ear. Shivers ran down your spine, something you hadn't felt in such a long time.

He studied your reaction, and when he felt it was okay to touch you, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back closer to his chest. That made you cry even harder, the sting in your heart getting worse. But at the same time, it felt so good to finally be in his embrace once again. You had missed his strong arms and his warmth so bad, it was a mix of confusion and relief. You wanted to push him away, yell at him, tell him to go, but the second his scent of cigarettes and wet grass filled your nose, you knew you wouldn't be able to. That's how much you missed him, though you weren't ready to asmit it just yet.

“Jus'... lemme talk to ya..." He whispered, placing a soft kiss to the skin behind your ear. And just like that, you melted in his hands. You had no idea what to say, but you were willing to listen to whatever came out of his mouth.

“I jus' wanna know wha' happened. I understand, 'm s'pposed ta know and 'm a dick fer not knowing, but... If ya don' talk ta me, I... I jus' won' know how ta make things righ'.” He was so gentle with his words, so caring. He sounded actually worried, making the situation so puzzling to you. You opened to mouth to speak, but nothing came out of it.

“Ya said sumthin' 'bout me goin' out with other women...” He spoke after a few seconds. “Wha'... Wha' was that all about? I would never...” Daryl didn't really have a way with his words, but you could see he was putting effort into talking to you and trying to fix things. The way he kept you tightly into his hug and his fingers brushed gently against your arm were actually being helpful, and your sobs slowly faded away as your tears stopped falling.

“You don't want me anymore." That's all you managed to speak before you felt tears threatening to fall once again, but you inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to keep calm. You couldn't see his face, but Daryl furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Wha'd'ya mean, hun'?” Those pet names never failed to make you weak in the knees. “I couldn't ever, ever stop wantin' ya. Ever.” He whispered the last word. As he did so, he traveled one hand down your plump belly, caressing it ever so gently. It almost made you want to cry again.

“Then where did you go? Why'd you leave me? Why'd ya even come back?” Even though you stopped crying, your voice was still unstable.

“...'Cuz ya asked me ta and I... I wanted ta respect yer choice. 'M here now 'cuz... I can't live withoutcha. I... need a second chance.” Now, he was the one with a shaky voice. Seeing him like that broke your heart.

“I told you to leave because I didn't wanna force you to be with me. I didn't...” You gulped. “I didn't wanna baby trap you or something like that, I don't know...” You sniffed. Throughout that whole conversation, you kept your arms stiff. But then, you lifted one of them to wipe your nose with back of your hand.

“...I don' get it.” He mouthed. You sighed, finally turning to look at him. After such a long time, looking into his eyes was a remedy to your infirm heart.

“Look, Daryl, I know I'm not in my best shape, alright? I know this whole 'baby' thing changed me, I know that my body ain't the same anymore. All these stretch marks, my face, my belly, I know it all deforms me and...” He just stood there with an unreadable expression. “...And you have every reason not to find me attractive anymore, and I'm just so sorry that I kept pushing you into having sex with me, I should've just given you some space, I...” Those stubborn tears you've been trying to hold back finally get the best of you. “I'm sorry that I snapped at you, I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch, you... You shouldn't see me like this, and... And I-”

Daryl interrupted your babbling nonsense, grabbing your face with both of his hands and pulling you in for what felt like your first kiss. It was probably the most gentle you've ever been kissed in your whole life. You didn't know you craved the warmth of his calloused hands against your wet cheeks that badly until you had it. Everytime a thick tear dared to run down your beautiful face, he quickly wiped it away with his thumbs. After what felt like an eternity, he slowly broke the kiss, but remained with his forehead pressed against yours.

“Yer the most beautiful woman 've ever seen.” His sweet whispers made you finally feel safe after feeling lost for so long. “N there's nuthin', nuthin' in this world tha' could ever change tha'.” You were left speechless as he contradicted you. “If only ya knew how badly I wanted ta touch ya... It's not easy seein' you walk 'round all heavy with ma babies, knowin' I was the one tha' made ya like this n not bein' able to eat you up alive... God, ya look so...” He let out a guttural grunt. “...So fuckin' hot.”

Your mind was rushing. So this whole time he didn't think you looked terrible? He actually... Liked it? In your head, it made no sense.

“If you wanted me so badly, then why did you reject me over and over again?” There was a very obvious hint of hurt in your voice, like you were trying hard to believe his words but your own insecurities were stopping you. He averted his gaze from your eyes for the first ever since you broke the kiss. For a moment, he looked in a contemplative state.

“I got scared.” He admitted. Your eyes narrowed.

“...Of what?” You asked. What could ever make Daryl, the most brave man you know, scared?

“Hurtin' ya.” You tilted your head, still not convinced of his reasons. Your silence served as a cue for him to resume speaking. “Seein' you like this... I jus' wanted ta protect you. I... I never thought I'd ever have a child of my own 'n... I don' know how ta say this, but...” His thumb brushed against your cheek once again. “...I thought ya were doin' this fer me. I thought maybe, I dunno... Maybe you felt like ya had to be there fer me, y'know, sexually...” He was stuttering and struggling to speak his mind. “I felt like if I said yes... I'd be forcin' ya.” He placed a peck on your soft lips. “But I do wan' ya. 'Ve been wantin' ta have ma way with ya fer so long...” He closed his eyes.

“Then what's stopping you?” You challenged him. You almost felt stupid for thinking he didn't want you that whole time and he was actually just trying to protect you. As those words left your mouth, his eyes snapped open, and suddenly, they had a different aura to them. They were darker.

I'm a swift motion, Daryl pulled you in for another kiss, but this time, a more needy one. Though his touch showed he was aching for you, it was still gentle. He didn't wanna hurt you, after all you were still pregnant.

He gently bit down on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before letting it snap back. His piercing gaze found yours and the way he smirked at you made your body tremble in anticipation.

His hands found the strap of your dress, slightly fidgeting with the tied bow strap over your shoulder just to tease you. And when he finally undid it, your dress slid down your body and onto the floor, revealing your semi-bareness to him.

That's when it kicked again, your self-consciousness taking a hold of you and in a flash, you felt the urge to cover yourself up. Daryl hadn't seen you naked ever since the last time you were intimate together, you two even stopped showering at the same time due to all of the previous misunderstandings. It almost felt like one of those dreams where you're completely naked in school, vulnerably standing in front of the judging eyes of everyone else, even though you were still in your underwear. As you felt your face warming up in embarrasement, you shifted your hands to your swollen breasts and your legs instinctively closed.

Your shy manners didn't go unnoticed by Daryl's attentive eyes. “Hun'...” He brought his hands to your own, softly stroking them until you eased your grasp on your breasts. “Ya can trust me.” He murmured. You took a deep breath and you finally let your hands fall to the side, fully revealing your bra to his sight. A smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth and he looked lost in your beauty.

“God, look at those tits...” He said mainly to himself. The way your breasts were all swollen, all heavy with milk awakened desires within him he didn't even know he had. He reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, removing it and tossing it aside.

He wondered how he was able to deny his attention to those beauties for so long. If he had properly talked to you about his intentions from the beginning, probably none of that misinterpretation would've happened, he thought. But that time wasn't one to mourn, but to cherish. Without warnings, he grasped one of your nipples with his mouth like a starving man while gently but firmly squeezing your other one. You let out a small squeak of pleasure, blushing at his sudden eagerness. Some of your milk leaked, and he was quick to lap at the liquid, wasting none of it. The sweet and mild taste of your essence coated his tongue, sending shock waves of ecstasy all the way down to his cock and in no time, his pants started feeling way too tight. But in that moment, he just wanted to make you feel good and appreciated, so he payed little to no mind to his forming erection.

“Ya taste so fuckin' good.” He groaned against your skin. You were too embarrassed to say anything, but you loved when he talked dirty like that to you, it made your pussy even wetter if that was even possible. He kept his attention to your breasts for a while, teasing, flicking and sucking on them until your nipples felt sore. Then, he made a trail of kisses from your under boob until his lips reached your belly button, slowly sinking down on his knees. He placed soft kisses all over your round belly.

“Look at ya, carryin' ma babies like a good girl.” He looked up at you for a moment, biting his lips at you. You gave him a shy smile, clearly affected by his sweet praising, and he found you so adorable like that. He'd been wanting to put his hands on you for so, so long and he finally had the opportunity to. You looked prettier than ever and he was determined to convince you.

“Let's get ya settled, yea?” And with that, he carefully picked you up bridal style, paying attention not to hurt you. He carried you to the couch, laying you down on it on your back, too eager to go upstairs and to your room, he wanted it there and then. Now, feeling a little more confident thanks to all his praising, your legs instinctively spread themselves out for him, revealing a wet stain on your white panties, clear sign of your arousal.

That sight made a smirk creep on his face, his hands roaming up and down your legs as he pulled them even further apart. “Is this all fer me?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer. You were so visibly surrendered to him, he could see how much you missed him because he shared the same exact longing.

His hands slowly made their way down to your core, his thumb gently rubbing your clit in circling motions over the fabric of your panties. You were so desperate to feel anything that you felt like his most subtle touch could make you cum in the same second. Still, you wanted more. You needed more.

“D-Dar...” You muttered under your breath, throwing your head back as his finger starting working your clit a bit faster and adding a little more pressure. “Wha' is it, doll, hm? Tell me what ya need.” His teasing words only made you more hungry for him. “Mmm...” You protested, struggling to put your desires into words. “C'mon, jus' say the word and I'll give it ta ya.” He encouraged you with the sweetest tone, slowing down his motions against your extremely sensitive clit just to tease you.

“Eat my fucking cunt like you mean it.” You spitted out, your voice all shaky with need, and even you were surprised at your own bold words.

“Don' need ta tell me twice.” He said before pulling your panties to the side in one swift motion and diving into your wetness, quickly starting his assault on your clit and lapping at your folds. He practically buried his face into you, eating you out like it was the last time. Your back arched in that same second and you already felt embarrassingly close to orgasming. He noticed the way you squirmed and moaned for him, grasping his hair with both hands and humping his face, smearing your slickness all over his handsome features.

And he let you use him for your pleasure however you pleased. That night was about you and about making up to all that wasted time. “D-Daryl...!” Your tone was one of warning. You were barely two minutes in but you could already feel the first orgasmic contractions forming in your lower belly. The way you said his name, he knew damn well you were about to make a mess on his face, and he was all in for it.

You threw your head back and let out a loud high-pitched moan as you coated his tongue with your wetness, and all he could do was hum against your sensitive skin, sending vibrations all over your cunt and intensifying the sensation. Despite your first signs of overstimulation, he continued enthusiastically lapping at your juices until you were a quivering mess under his tongue. You had to manually give his head a very gentle push so you could have a break from that intense pleasure. You chuckled at his excitement to please you. If you had ever felt insecure about any of that before, you couldn't remember it.

He lifted his head up, placing tender kisses on your pregnant belly once again, stroking it lovingly. “Ya want me ta fuck ya, darlin'?” He said as he crawled up your body, getting face to face with you. You wrap your arms around his neck, forcing his lips against yours in a sensual dance. “'M takin' that as a yes” He voiced with a hint of playfulness. The thought of being inside you made his cock throb even harder inside his pants, and he knew he just couldn't wait any longer. He reached for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and taking it off. Then, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pushing it down his thighs alongside with his black briefs just enough to free his cock.

Oh, you missed it so fucking badly. You two used to fuck like rabbits before, and after going 4 whole months without getting dicked down by your man, you were more than desperate to feel him. Now, you finally understood your pregnancy wasn't any type of obstacle for sharing pleasure with him.

You stared down at his now visible erection. He was girthy, and you could feel your cunt stretching out just by looking at him. A small droplet of pre-cum threatened to run down his length, from the tip all the way down to his full balls. When you averted your gaze to his face, you could see he was admiring you while you took in the sight of his cock. Your eyes got all sparkly in anticipation, sharing a knowing look with him. You didn't have to say anything and he was always brushing his tip on your slit.

He gently tapped your clit with his tip, watching closely for your reaction, his smirk not fading away not even for one second. Your pussy was so slippery with your wetness that when he pressed his cock against your slit, it went in with ease.

“Fuck.” You moaned in unison. The feeling of his cock going in for the first time was always one of your favorite parts of fucking Daryl. He tried to hold back a little, still careful not to hurt you since you were pregnant after all, but when you wrapped your legs around his waist, he couldn't help but bury his whole cock inside you in one harsh thrust, yearning loud moans from both of you.

You didn't care at all if it hurt or not, you just needed to feel him inside you. He shut his eyes tight and it was obvious that he was fighting the urge to burst right in that same second. He gritted his teeth and leaned in to press his forehead against yours, slowly starting to move his hips. He wasn't exactly thrusting, it was more like humping his cock inside you, which made you grow more and more impatient. You needed him to pound you.

“P-please, Daryl, just... just fuck me already.” The clear frustration on your voice did it for him, and in no time, he started harshly banging his hips against yours, giving you no time to adjust to the pace. Squelching sounds, your moans and the sound of your skins slapping against each other filled the room in a dirty orchestra. The intense smell of sex made you dizzy.

You were so cock-hungry you could fuck that man for days straight without breaks, and as he gently groped your pregnant belly, you knew he wanted you just as much. You couldn't hold back a smile at the sensation of his palms and fingers gently caressing you, contrasting with his hard thrusts inside your pussy.

It was your favorite whenever he treated you like that, with a mix of tenderness and an urge to absolutely rail you. “Fuck, feels so fuckin' good inside this wet cunt.” The archer almost sounded vulnerable. “'M gunna give ya even more babies, princess.” He whispered, his voice a little more high-pitched than usual. The thought of feeling his warm load inside you again made your mind rush and once again, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your high.

As the pleasure grew more intense, your tight walls clenched around Daryl's thick cock, making his legs tremble as he struggled to keep his composure. “Shit baby, if ya keep squeezin' me tight like tha' 'm not gunna last long.” He admitted through gritted teeth. “Don't hold back, give it to me.” Your encouragement words only fueled Daryl's desires even further.

You felt so full, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper, filling you up to the brim. He was still holding onto your round belly, gently not to hurt you, and when you clenched your cunt around him one last time, he moaned louder than ever before.

“Fuckin' take it!” His whole body was shaking as his orgasm coursed through his body. The sight of him like that was so sexy, so dirty and raw that you couldn't help but squirt all over his cock. You didn't even know you could do that, and Daryl looked just as surprised as you as you drenched his cock and lower belly with your arousal. He buried his length deep inside you one last time as the final spurts of his warm cum coated your insides, keeping that position.

“I love ya, Y/N. Dontcha ever forget that again, woman.” He said, placing sweet little pecks all over your face, making you giggle like a little child. “Yer stuck with me. Both of ya.” His hand never left your pregnant belly that whole time, and now, he gently brushed his thumb on it.

“I love you more.” You confessed, bringing a hand to his cheek to cup it, feeling the rough texture of his salt-and-pepper facial hair against your soft hand. As he slightly shifted his position with his cock still deep inside you, you felt how he was still rock hard and ready for you. After such a long waiting, he wasn't ready to stop just yet.

“Round two?” You asked, already predicting his answer.

“Fuck yeah.”

a/n: hi there!! just passing by to thank you for reading this. i know it's not even close to perfect but it took me 10+ hours to write, so i really appreciate you if you read it this far! as i've said before, i'm a beginner writer, so i'm still on the process of adapting and i'm really thankful for all the support you've been showing me. see ya!

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celtic-crossbow · 9 months

Text

Skin You With My Tongue

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v, fingering, oral (fem rec), brief hand job

Summary: What has gotten into Daryl? It doesn’t matter because you like it!

A/N: I haven’t been feeling great but I wanted to finish this before taking a break. Then I’ll work on my last request. Once again, I don’t think it’s great but ah well. I’m trying to just be thankful to be writing again. I hope some enjoyment comes from it!

You had no idea how you’d ended up in your current predicament: flat on your back, naked, with an equally naked Daryl Dixon devouring you like a man starved. You weren’t complaining by any stretch of the imagination. Though he had claimed to have little experience, the man deserved medals for the sounds he was wringing out of you with his tongue.

Anyway, back to the question of how did you end up here?

The day had started like any other. Your group was still new to Alexandria. While most had been given jobs, you and Daryl had not yet been set to work by Deanna. So, Rick had easily agreed to letting you both go hunt. Daryl had refused to give up his crossbow when you had first arrived in the community, but you had to sign out a weapon.

“Bullshit.” Daryl growled from where he leaned against the doorframe of the armory. You couldn’t say that you didn’t agree with him.

Regardless, you played by the rules, got your gun, strapped the weapons to the back, and climbed onto Daryl’s bike. He had decided the two of you could go further out today, not having much luck the past couple of days in the direct vicinity.

Daryl was your closest friend in your tight knit group and had been since you all had been forced to wander around in the cold before the prison. He was difficult to read and his emotional walls were high and thick. Somehow, you had been able to scale those walls, if not shatter them completely. You accepted him without question but you didn’t take any shit from him either. You weren’t afraid to call him out. In fact, the first time he had willingly come to sit next to you by the fire was just after you had asked him if he was “violating the Georgia sodomy law by having his head that far up his own ass.” You’d been close ever since.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his stomach and rested your chin on his shoulder, making kissy noises at him when he glanced back at you.

“Stop.” He grumbled before starting up the motorcycle. You simply gave his midsection a squeeze and could practically feel him roll his eyes as you headed through the gate.

The first part of the day was uneventful. Daryl stashed the bike before you walked and walked, finding nothing to track. About midday, the two of you came across a gorgeous lake. The water was clear and having only crossed two walkers on your trek there, you decided that a swim was an excellent idea after lunch. You didn’t ask Daryl, truly figuring he wouldn’t mind and that, hell, maybe he’d even join you.

You didn’t look at him as you stripped down to your bra and panties, mismatched as they were. If you had, you would have seen him comically fumble and drop the piece of dried meat in his hand.

“The blue hell ya doin’, girl?” He snapped after righting himself.

“Cooling off.” You gave him a smile over your shoulder before mimicking his frown with added exaggeration. “Maybe you should do the same, you old grump.”

He scoffed, keeping his eyes averted. “You’re bein’ careless. Careless gets ya dead.”

“I’m not going in unprotected!” You spun toward him, drawing his gaze toward you before pointing to the small knife tucked securely between your breasts. You couldn’t help but laugh when his face reddened and he looked away so quickly that you could swear you heard his neck crack. “I won’t be long.”

And you weren’t. Barely twenty minutes later, you were sitting down next to him, fully clothed albeit damp, but feeling much better.

“Ready to head out?” You asked cheerfully.

He did not share your enthusiasm, scowling as he stood and secured his crossbow to his back. “Been ready.”

“Well, aren’t you just a bucket of sunshine?” He had already stalked off by the time you gathered up everything. You had to sprint to catch up.

After a couple of hours, Daryl finally caught the trail of a deer and began tracking it. You followed quietly, watching his methods and learning everything you could. You knew how to hunt, thanks to him, but you were always eager to sharpen your skills. When the animal was finally within sight, the archer kneeled after signaling for you to stand still just beside him. He was lining up the shot when something caught his eye to the right of where you stood.

“Get down!” He whispered sharply, grabbing your arm and pulling. The sudden jerk caught you off guard and you were thrown off balance, crashing into him. He fell flat on his back with you on top, your palms on either side of his head with your chest almost directly in his face. With half a dozen walkers shuffling into the area, you couldn’t move lest you be detected.

The deer sensed the danger and ran, the group of undead following mindlessly. As they passed where you and Daryl hid, you instinctively lowered, feeling his breath against your shirt. It took several minutes for the threat to move far enough away that you felt comfortable to lift yourself up and sit back, effectively placing your ass on his stomach.

“Well, that sucks. That was a big doe.” You complained. When he didn’t comment, you looked at him. He was propped up on his elbows, looking anywhere but at you. His face and neck were flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “You okay?” You queried with general concern.

“M’fine. Can ya get offa me?”

“Oh. Right.” You stood quickly, as did he. His back was quickly turned to you.

“We’re done. Let’s go.”

Your head tilted, brow creased in confusion. “We’ve got hours of daylight left. Shouldn’t we—”

“Said we’re done.” He was already walking away, leaving you staring at his back and wondering what you’d done wrong.

The ride back was tense and silent. You even chose to just lightly place your hands below his ribs and keep some space between your bodies instead of how you would usually have a tight hold on him.

When you entered Alexandria, Daryl parked the bike and got off, leaving you there, confused and more than a little upset. He passed Rick by without a word, the former sheriff turning to look at you with an eyebrow cocked. You gave him a shrug.

“I have no idea.” Shaking your head, you grabbed the gun from where it was secured to the back and went to sign it in before returning to the home you shared with Daryl and Carol. He was nowhere to be found on the first floor, leaving you to assume he had retreated to his room in the basement. With a heavy sigh, you went upstairs to shower.

Evening was upon you before you knew it, the sun having only set a few minutes before Carol invited you to walk to the other house for dinner with the group. You weren’t feeling all that hungry so you told her you’d be there in a few minutes. It was a lie. You had no intention of leaving your room.

Turning over onto your side, you closed your eyes. You had just drifted off when there came another knock. “Ugh.” You groaned and threw back the blankets, remaining in just your tank top and underwear since you didn’t plan on leaving with her. “Carol, I really don’t—” Once the door opened, you screeched to a halt, meeting the impossibly blue eyes of your favorite bowman. “Daryl.” You blinked at him blankly.

“Hi.” He nearly whispered. “Can I, uh—?” He gave a vague motion toward the inside of your room.

“Right. Uh, yeah, right, sure.” You stammered while stepping aside. He stepped in and you turned to push the door closed, a gasp leaving your mouth when you felt him press himself against your back. “D-Daryl?”

“First, the lake. Then your tits in my face when the walkers came. An’ now—this?” His finger was tracing the outline of your panties over your hip.

“What? I didn’t—”

He growled, a low sound in his throat, as he spun you around and pressed you back against the door with his body. He grabbed your chin to force your gaze on him.

“Didn’t what? G’on. Tell me.”

“Daryl, I didn’t mean anything by any of that.” You gulped, though you weren’t afraid. Exactly the opposite. Heat and wetness was pooling at your core, your skin feeling electrified where he was touching you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t lie to him. “I really wasn’t trying to fuck with you, I swear.”

There was an instant change in his eyes and it broke your heart. He released you with a muttered “shit,” his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. The dim light of your bedside lamp was enough for you to see his face reddening and the slight tremble to his frame.

“Y/N, I—fuck—m’sorry.” He quickly attempted to sidestep you and reached for the doorknob, but you were faster and blocked his path. His head shot up, eyes wide and panicked. He had absolutely misread the day’s happenings but he wasn’t wrong on one thing.

“I wasn’t intentionally fucking with you.” You repeated, your tongue snaking out to wet your lips before you continued. “But I would have if I had known it’d end with you here like this.” His arm dropped away from the knob and you entered into his space, pressing your chest against him to hover your lips over his. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Daryl Dixon.”

And now you were here.

“Fuuuuck!” You moaned, pressing the back of your head into the pillow before raising it to look down at the man between your thighs. Your fingers twisted and tugged his hair as your hips rolled, grinding your cunt against his tongue. Daryl growled against your clit, the sound vibrating against the swollen nub. His large hands pressed down on your inner thighs, holding you open while also effectively rendering you immobile.

A whine slipped past your lips when his tongue once again pressed tightly against you, sweeping up and down before he closed his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucked. You tried to lift your hips but he pressed down harder, his nails biting into your skin. He removed his mouth from you, dark eyes glaring from just above your mound.

“Be still.”

His gravelly voice was even lower, darkened with lust and demand. You found you couldn’t help but obey. Breathing through your nose, you nodded eagerly. He kept his gaze locked on your face while his right hand lifted from your thigh, fingertips whispering over your flesh to dance down to your core. He ran a single digit through your slick once…twice, never breaking eye contact.

Your hands left his hair and fisted into the sheets of your bed, but otherwise, you remained frozen in place, panting through the pleasure of stretching around his middle finger breaching your opening. He slid in to the first knuckle, then the second, pausing only briefly before pushing in all the way. The sound that left your throat was positively sinful. You dropped your head back to the pillow and focused on not moving.

“Good girl.” He praised you, rewarding you by drawing his digit almost all the way out before sinking back inside, thus beginning a steady rhythm of which he continued. When you remained unmoving, he lowered his head once again to lavish attention onto your clit.

Who was this man? This was a completely new Daryl. In control, demanding, vocal, and positively panty-dropping. A new part of him for you to accept and adore. A part of him that, to your knowledge, only you had seen. One that you definitely hoped you would see again and again!

“Daryl, fuck!” You cried out when his index finger joined the first. You shivered almost violently when you felt him smile against your pussy.

“In a minute.” He purred, pumping into you faster.

Your hands moved from the sheets to the headboard, palms flat to keep the thrusts of his hand from pushing you upward. The moans and cries were constant, his mouth and fingers igniting a fire low in your belly. The knot was twisting tighter and tighter, and you grit your teeth when you felt the sparks of it begin to shoot down to your toes and up into your chest.

“Nngh, Daryl! I’m—” You panted, eyes screwed shut and legs trembling. He curled his fingers, driving them against that soft spot inside you mercilessly while his tongue and teeth tortured your clit. Just when you thought you might die from the pleasure of it all, that knot in your belly pulled taunt and snapped. Wave after wave of euphoria traveled through you, broken moans of his name tumbling from your lips like a mantra. You had grabbed his hair again at some point, holding him against your center with your thighs attempting to trap him there. He didn’t seem to mind, too busy eagerly lapping at the nectar you spilled while riding your high.

When you went limp against the mattress, he pulled his fingers from within you, leaving you to whine at the emptiness they left behind. You were still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pressed one last kiss against your sensitive clit before sitting up on his knees. You blinked away the haze in your vision to watch him suck on those two fingers that had just fucked you senseless, your juices still glistening on his face.

You weren’t sure what came over you but you dove forward almost clumsily while he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He caught you easily with the other arm and pulled you against his chest, your arms encircling his neck to pull his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, all tongues and teeth. The absolute need to be close to him in that moment was something you couldn’t explain. When you pulled back to look at him, your pupils blown wide and lips swollen, it was as if he understood before your sex-addled brain could form any words.

“I gotcha, girl.” Daryl said softly, a contradiction to how he had commanded you only moments prior. You nodded and let him kiss you again. It was tender this time, slow and deliberate. The archer began to lay you back. He caught himself with one arm while the other stayed behind your head to control your descent until you were once again on the pillows.

His mouth left yours and began to roam across your jaw. He nuzzled his cheek against yours in a way that you found absolutely adorable but then he was pressing open-mouthed kisses below your ear. Large hands traveled to your chest to cup both of your breasts, calloused fingers exploring the supple mounds before settling to roll your pebbled nipples between them. He kissed his way down, that sinful mouth eager to take over worshiping that part of you.

“Daryl,” you gasped, arching up into him when his mouth closed around your right nipple, “mmmm, Daryl, please!” You could feel his erection against your thigh, hot and hard and yet completely ignored. “Please—” you tried again, the plea coming out more like a pathetic whine.

“I know whatcha want.” He murmured against the skin between your breasts. He latched onto your left nipple with his teeth while his left hand took over stimulating the right. “Whatcha need.” You did the only thing you could and twisted your fingers into his hair, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth with a quiet whimper. His touch left you suddenly and you opened your eyes to find him directly above you and lowering down until his lips were just barely touching yours. “But I wantcha to say it anyway.” You felt every syllable against your mouth, the simple action enough to make your cunt clench around nothing. Goddamn, this man knew how to play your body like an instrument.

His fingers were ghosting down your left side only for his hand to maneuver between your bodies. Grasping his cock, he slid it through your folds, gathering your juices in agonizingly slow strokes. Each time the tip of him grazed your clit, your back arched from the mattress with a cry on your lips.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Daryl.” You whined, anchoring your legs around his hips. You dug your heels into the skin just below his ass in a desperate attempt to pull him into you. Too bad he was much stronger than you.

He hummed in response but only began to stroke himself, spreading your slick along his shaft. “Tell me whatcha want me to do, girl.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were going to literally combust if he wasn’t inside you at that moment. You weaved your arms underneath his and pulled at him. “Fuck me, Daryl. Please, please, fuck me!”

He chuckled. The asshole actually chuckled but you didn’t care because he then immediately entered you in one fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt. His arms nearly gave out as your wet heat welcomed him, stretching and molding to his cock as if your body was made just for him. He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder but you were too far gone to notice. The pleasurable burn of accommodating him brought you to new heights. You almost came right on the spot.

“Fuck.” He breathed against your neck, fighting to keep himself in check.

After you both had a moment, Daryl pushed himself up onto his forearms, drawing back his hips slowly before snapping forward and earning a broken moan from you. The feeling of him moving inside you was overwhelming, the push and pull driving every thought from your mind to leave only the ability to feel. And you wanted more.

You clawed at his back, each thrust forward tearing a cry from your throat. You barely registered that his mouth was on yours, but responded immediately, craving the taste of him. The smoke and pine mingled with the taste of your cunt on his tongue and you couldn’t get enough. You swallowed his delectable moan when your hips came up to meet this thrusts, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing off the walls of your room. Bringing a hand to his hair, you pulled his head back, pussy clenching when the action made him hiss between his teeth.

Teeth met his skin, biting down just above his collar bone. The salty taste brought a moan into your throat. You marked him there, sucking hard until you brought blood to the surface and then you released him. “You—feel so good.” You panted before your mouth was back on his. He pulled back suddenly and you whined at the loss of his weight but then he was sitting back on his knees, grabbing your hips and fucking into you so hard that you saw stars. It was just on the good side of painful, your cunt spasming around his cock as the familiar heat began to build in your belly.

Daryl didn’t stay that way way long. He released your hips and leaned forward to use the headboard as leverage, pounding you with such force that you again had to brace yourself with your palms. Your cries mixed with his moans and grunts and you prayed that Carol was still away. The angle was intense, each thrust had his tip pressing roughly against your sweet spot, building your pleasure at a pace you wished would slow.

“Daryl, I’m—I’m gonna—” you couldn’t get the words out between breaths and moans, but he knew from the way you tightened around him that you were nearing the precipice. And he was determined to throw you over the edge first.

He released the headboard and grabbed your arms, yanking you up while he sat back on his heels. You grabbed for his shoulders and then encircled his neck, resting one hand on the back of his head and the other on his shoulder blade. He moved his hands to your hips, helping you to bounce on him, spearing yourself on his cock and driving it deeper. Your moans became pleas and then a chant of his name, mouth hanging agape between words and breaths and eyes screwed shut.

“Cum for me.” He grunted against your jaw and that was all it took. You were almost certain you screamed but you couldn’t hear it, vision blacking out as euphoria swallowed you. You came back to yourself as the waves began to ebb, Daryl continuing to fuck you through. Your body felt heavy and uncoordinated and you pulled back a bit to clumsily seek out his mouth, greedily drinking down each sound he offered as he chased his own release. His grip on your hips would leave bruises, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

His movements grew sloppy and you could feel him beginning to twitch and pulse inside you. You pulled your mouth from his and watched him until he pulled you from his lap. You moved quickly, aware of his actions, and wrapped your hand around him, pumping him fast and hard. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your thighs while he fought to breathe through the sensation. His teeth were clenched and his eyes tightly closed, sweat shining on his skin and you were sure it was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

Half a dozen more strokes before you twisted your hand and he cried out, muscles freezing and face contorting into a grimace of pure ecstasy. He breathed out your name, hips jerking and ropes of cum painting your hand and both of your thighs. No, that was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

You pulled his mouth to yours before he could come all the way down, relishing each twitch of his muscles. When you pulled away, he finally opened his eyes and swayed on the spot. He seemed dazed but when his gaze met yours, he leaned forward to kiss you. It was gentle, almost hesitant. As if he didn’t know whether or not you’d welcome it.

“That was amazing.” You whispered, finally catching your breath.

“Yeah.” He replied quietly.

You brought a hand to the side of his face, watching all the courage melt away. His already flushed face was growing impossibly redder. You couldn’t help but smile. He had been dominant and commanding only to morph right back into the Daryl you had fallen in love with.

Your eyes widened.

Shit.

You were in love with him.

You were actually in love with Daryl.

You didn’t move when he got up to grab a towel, slipping on his boxers while he was at it. You still didn’t move as he cleaned you up, his mouth moving once he was done but no sound registering. He snapped his fingers in front of your face and you flinched.

“What’d you say?”

“Ya okay?” His brow was drawn inward in concern. He looked so, so nervous and you just wanted to pull him onto the bed and hold him.

“Yeah, I’m great.” You beamed.

He nodded and worried his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing over at his clothes. “Guess I should go.”

Your face fell as he reached for his pants. “Why?” Daryl froze and looked at you, head tilted. “You could stay. Here. With me.” You offered, your own face reddening. He stayed in the awkward position of halfway reaching toward his shirt but was obviously considering your words.

“Ya want me to stay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” You smiled sincerely. He nodded and straightened, coming back around to the other side of the bed. He sat stiffly against the headboard, chewing his lip again. You started to lean against him when there came a soft knock at the door. You both looked up and then at one another.

Busted.

You both scrambled to get dressed and it would have been comical had you not been thinking of who could be on the other side of the door. Carol. Rick. Michonne. Oh god, Carl! You looked back at him just as he pulled his shirt over his head, an apologetic expression on your face. Turning the knob and pulling the door open, you smiled innocently at—

No one.

“What the—” You leaned out and looked down each hall to find them empty. However, at your feet were two wrapped plates of food. One with a note addressed to Daryl and the other to you. In Carol’s handwriting.

You looked around for the woman once more while picking up the plates and stepped back into the room, kicking the door shut. Eyebrows raised, you crossed the space to hand Daryl his and then placed yours on the bed, removing the note and unfolding it.

“Good for you. Now tell him that you love him.”

You almost laughed but held it, simply folding your note and putting it in your bedside drawer. Daryl was looking at his own with a raised brow before he folded it and put it in his pocket.

“M’starvin’.” He announced, plopping onto your bed while unwrapping his food. He watched you smile and follow suit, gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

His note?

“Don’t be stupid, Pookie. She loves you too.”

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frost-queen · 5 months

Text

Bodyguarded (Reader!Grimes x Daryl Dixon)

Requested by: Anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: Reader is Rick's younger sister. You're very sweet with a sharp tongue which Shane doesn't seem to like. Shane keeps bothering you as he finds you cocky. To your surprise is Daryl always around to keep Shane away from you eventhough he doesn't like you, right? [ read part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 ]

A basket got dropped beside you. It made you look up from your crouched position. – “Seriously?” – you called out at Shane. – “You couldn’t have dropped this ten minutes ago? We are almost finished.” – you went on. Shane exhaled loud wiping his hand down his mouth. – “Why do you always have to open your big mouth.” – he replied with a soft glare. You slapped the shirt in your hand down in the water as some water splashed up. Getting all worked up by how he threated you.

Shane watched as you got up but before you could do anything had Carol jumped up with you. Moving her hands in front of you to hold you back. One look of her was enough to make you settle down. – “Just do as you are told!” – he ordered finding himself amusing. You clenched your jaw, pushing with your body against Carol’s arms as they kept you in place. Shane scoffed funnily before walking off. Sighing loud lowered Carol her arms from around her.

“Come on Y/n.” – she said softly with a gentle nod. You took another deep breath squatting down again. – “I just don’t understand why he brought this now. He knew he had laundry ten minutes ago, didn’t he.” – you spoke trying to understand why he would taunt you like this. Carol took out a shirt, splashing it into the water. – “Let’s finish this up together.”

Carol and you washed the rest of Shane’s clothing. Obeying to what you have been told. When you were done you went back with Carol to the camp. You went over to Glenn handing him his clothes back. – “Aw sweet Y/n!” – he said bowing to you as a thank you. It made you smile back. You then went over to the campfire where Daryl sat munching on some meat. You gestured in silence to his clothing, moving them up in your hands.

Daryl gave you a brief glance before continue to ignore you. You wanted to place it down as Daryl suddenly pointed at his tent. You nodded back making your way over to his tent to lay it down in the front. You barely got up when you felt two arms wrap tightly around you. It startled you making you squeak loudly. Recognizing the arms around you, you eased up.

“Do that again sweetheart I like the way you sound.” – you heard Carol’s husband comment at you. Daryl spitted on the ground turning his gaze towards him in a tight clench. You turned around glaring at him for even saying such a thing in front of Carl. Carl was still hugging you as you held your hands against his back.

Carol gave you a look of sympathy wishing she could do something against her husband’s behaviour. You turned your attention down to your nephew. You led him away from everyone. – “Stay close with him!” – you heard Shane call out to you. You looked briefly over your shoulder seeing him stand by the car, elbow leaning against the open door. You simply turned back to the front as Shane scoffed. Finding you very cocky and thinking you were full of attitude when you honestly weren’t.

You just never understood why Shane was like this towards you. Carl and you made your way towards the woods a bit drifting away from the others. – “Auntie Y/n.” – Carl said as you hummed loud as a reply. Carl jumped on top of a log balancing his way across. You remained by his side in case he lost his balance. Carl hopped off joining your side. He picked up a stick, swaying it around. – “Do you still think about dad?” – he asked as it made you stop shocked. Then you turned around to him with a sweet smile.

“Everyday little one.” – you answered stroking his cheek. Your motion slowed down feeling a sudden wave of sadness. Thinking back about your brother Rick made you emotional. Carl noticed how glossy your eyes had become. – “Sorry auntie Y/n… I didn’t mean to make you sad.” – he said feeling guilty of ever asking it. You sniffed loud, blinking your tears away. – “Don’t worry about it Carl.” – you told him with a laugh.

You straightened your posture pulling him close to your body for a hug. – “If you ever want to talk about your dad and feel like you have no one to turn to, you come to me.” – you said hugging him tightly. Some twigs snapped as it didn’t make you respond quickly enough. Before you knew it had someone grabbed your elbow, pulling you away from Carl. – “I told you to stay close!” – it was Shane who yelled at you. Holding you roughly by the elbow.

“Do you want to put Carl in danger?” – he continued shaking at your elbow. – “Do you think you can save Carl from any walkers?” – he laughed once mockingly. – “Let her go!” – Carl called out running up to Shane to pound his fists against his chest. – “Go to your mother Carl!” – Shane made clear pushing Carl off him. – “Don’t talk to him like that!” – you answered loudly.

Shane’s face contracted with anger. He grabbed you by your neck, pushing your head down. – “I am so done with your attitude Y/n!” – he responded pulling you with him. – “No! leave her alone!” – Carl shouted at him. – “Go to your mother Carl!” – Shane roared out. Carl turned around taking a run for it while wiping his tears away.

“Shane let me go!” – you screamed trying to get his grip from on your neck. He puffed loud pushing you down onto the ground. Body hitting the ground and rolling a bit over. – “I’ve had it with you Y/n!” – he made clear pacing around. Wiping his chin. Breezing around like a hungry wolf. – “I don’t want you near him anymore. You are a bad influence.” – he spoke rubbing his hand over his head. You scoffed shockingly with an amusing undertone. – “I’m sorry. Boss!” – you snapped at him sarcastically.

Shane puffed his chest up slightly raising his hand till he stopped. Eyes widening at the feeling at the back of his head. – “You raise that hand of yours and I’ll shoot.” – you heard come from behind him. Leaning a bit to the side, you saw Daryl stand behind Shane with his crossbow against the back of his head. Shane lowered his hand again with a grunt.

Daryl moved his crossbow slightly to the side, right over his shoulder. An arrow fired. With a zap it found it’s target. Seconds later the sound of a corpse dropping. You had gasped looking over your shoulder to see the last of a walker drop down. – “Next one will be through your head.” – Daryl whispered to Shane. Shane moved storming off.

Daryl lowered his crossbow stepping over to you. He lowered his hand to you, looking away. Hesitantly you took it allowing him to pull you back up to your feet. – “Tha-“ – you started cut off by Daryl walking off. Taking a few deep breaths, you returned afterwards back to camp. Lori looked at you concerned holding Carl against her side. You simply smiled faintly at her to show her it was all right. You didn’t want her to worry. You took refuge in your tent needing time alone.

At nightfall some were sitting around the campfire. You sat near Glenn laughing silently at some funny things he said. You stopped laughing seeing Shane seemingly make his way over to you. He neared and before he could take another step had Daryl gotten up from his seat near you. His gaze stern, posture grand. Carol watched Daryl pressing her lips amusingly together.

Shane puffed with a shake of his head, turning back around. You were looking at Daryl, questionable when your eyes locked as he looked back at you. The contact was brief as Daryl seated himself back down as if nothing had occurred. Shyly smiling at yourself you couldn’t help but feel special that Daryl seemingly did seem to care for you. Otherwise he wouldn’t step in and just let Shane do whatever he likes around you.

Daryl noticed you were staring all smiley at him, making him shift his posture more away from you. You smiled looking down making briefly eye contact with Carol across the fire. Instantly you snorted knowing she was probably thinking the same. Glenn went on to talk to you as if nothing had happened.

After a few days you started to notice Daryl was more around you. Always near to keep a close eye on Shane. Whenever he even made the slightest movement towards you, he made one little movement to let Shane know if he even tried he’d be face to face with him. One day you decided to tease him about it. You were in the woods with Carol, Lori and Carl further down as you made your way over to Daryl who was keeping a watchful eye on you all.

Daryl looked uncomfortable away when you neared. – “Daryl.” – you said to greet him. – “Y/n.” – he mumbled back, looking around as if searching for walkers. You weren’t getting much out of him further so you decided to prank him. Suddenly you gasped loud as if startled. It made Daryl turn his head concerned to you. – “Is that Shane?” – you called out making Daryl turn his head again to look in the direction you were looking.

He immediately took a defensive pose before you, almost grabbing for his crossbow. When he noticed he was looking at nothing, he sighed loud. – “Damn it Y/n!” – he grunted out. – “Do you think this is funny?” – he asked looking your way. – “I do when you get so protective over me.” – you responded with a smile. Daryl rolled with his eyes. – “Like hell I care.” – he outed sounding annoyed.

You kept looking all smiley at him making it almost impossible for him to keep himself from looking back at you. – “I think you do care. Otherwise you wouldn’t keep Shane away from me.” – you told him. Daryl puffed loud. – “Maybe I just don’t like him.” – he responded with half a shrug. – “Or you just very much like me?” – you teased grabbing him by his shirt.

Daryl swallowed nervously when your noses almost touched. Daryl’s expression softened around you. His breathing tickling your lips. His expression made you blink surprised seeing the lovey dovey’s in his eyes. He moved his hand to your cheek letting it brush against it. Before he knew it he closed the gap between your lips, kissing you hard. You hummed loud, pulling away. - "So not caring are you?" - you chuckled out. - "Shut up." - Daryl answered before shutting you up with another kiss.

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