lavenderwatercolor

Latest Posts by lavenderwatercolor

Rick Grimes x F!Reader x Daryl Dixon Smut: And There was only One Bed

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected sex, jealous Rick, awkward inexperienced Daryl, dry humping, spooning sex, oral, handjobs (Daryl receiving), staying quiet/fear of being caught, Daryl pretending to be asleep

Summary: Rick, Daryl, and reader get caught out on a storm and take shelter in a small cabin. They're stuck there for the night, and you'll never guess what happens next. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

Notes: God this is so hot I don't care that the morals are questionable!!!! I need it more than anything I've ever needed before thank you for requesting anon

Being squished between a snoring Daryl and Rick's hard-on was not how you imagined your night going when you set out that morning.

It was supposed to be a cut and dry intel run. Scope out the new group nearby, learn a few things, maybe grab some supplies on your way back, but no, it's never that easy.

First off, you couldn't find the group. Aaron claimed they were composed of maybe forty people living in the nearby school, but the place was quiet when you'd checked it out.

Then, Rick's truck broke down. Dead battery. Daryl set out looking for one with enough juice to get you home when the first signs of a storm rolled in. Angry dark clouds and cold fat raindrops.

The only place nearby in walking distance was down a long gravel road. It was the smallest, but also the cutest, cabin you'd ever laid eyes on. It only had three rooms, one bedroom with a bathroom, and a large open living area that held a tiny kitchen and a couch with a fireplace.

“Get those windows boarded up.”

Rick was quick to spew out commands after the three of you busted through the front door, all wet and shivering. The wind was so strong it slammed the door closed behind you, blowing the curtains and causing stray paper to fly off their tables.

“Can't!” Daryl shouted. He stood behind you shielding his face from the rain shooting through the broken windows.

That's how you ended up in the bedroom. You sat shivering on the foot of the bed as Rick went through the dresser, looking for clothes to replace the soaking fabric you all wore.

Daryl slid the bedroom vanity in front of the door. He even went as far as to set the armchair on top of it.

“Can we just wait it out?” Your teeth clattered together as Rick tossed you a towel from the closet. You ruffled it in your hair and watched Daryl.

He was standing in front of the only window in the room, his arms crossed and his thumbnail between his teeth.

“Yeah, should ease up soon.” Rick sat on the bed opposite from you, drying his arms and hair with his own towel.

“Naw.” Daryl muttered. He finally turned away from the window and began drying himself. “Gonna be a few hours, at least.”

You furrowed your brows, looking down in your lap. This was quite the predicament. Stuck in a bedroom with two men, one you barely knew and were pretty sure hated you.

The other… Well, you weren't sure what Rick was to you.

Daryl wasn't right, but he wasn't wrong either. The storm did continue for a few hours, but it also didn't show any signs of stopping.

You glanced down at your watch and felt your heart drop. It was seven pm, and the sun would be setting very soon. Not that you could see much outside anyways, the clouds were thick and covered a majority of the sky.

Your voice broke the long streak of silence.

“Are we gonna have to stay here tonight?”

Rick and Daryl had known the answer to that question two hours prior. Neither of them wanted to be the ones to say it, but their lack of direct answers filled you in enough. Rick looked down at his revolver and Daryl continued staring out the window.

“Fuck.” You groaned, sitting back down on the bed. “I promised Maggie we'd watch season two of True Blood tonight.”

“That dog fucker show?” Daryl muttered around his cigarette. He was leaning against the wall next to the window, legs crossed at the ankles, cleaning under his nails with the blade of his knife.

“No Daryl, there's no dog fucking.” You sighed and he just mumbled in response, not looking up from his fingers.

Rick had made himself busy trying to prepare the room for the night.

He'd found a few hurricane lanterns and set two up on the bedside tables, and began anxiously ‘cleaning’. The room only had the bed, dresser, and bedside tables, so there wasn't much he could do besides look in the same drawers over and over.

At some point he went into the small bathroom and shut the door. He stayed there for a couple minutes, doing god knows what.

There were a few clothing items left by the previous owners. Daryl and Rick got some raggedy sweatpants, shirts full of holes that were a little too small for them. You were stuck with a massive piss yellow sweater and the ugliest pair of basketball shorts.

Anything was better than your soaking rags.

The storm had eased up a bit, but that didn't do much in terms of easing your boredom. The sun had long since set, your watch read ten-thirty, and neither man was very talkative.

“I'll take first watch.” Daryl was the first to speak in a while.

“No. I'll do it.” Rick protested. He'd been cleaning his revolver for the last thirty minutes. “I can't sleep anyway.”

“Yeah, well. Neither can I.”

You'd found a box of random items under the bed and had been looking through them while they bickered. A dead Gameboy, random PlayStation controllers, a few comic books, pieces to Monopoly, and an array of broken crayons. There was a pen and a notepad though, so you started drawing a caricature of Daryl.

Angry eyebrows, a cigarette that was half his height in his frowning mouth, and a speech bubble filled with hash tags for explicatives.

“Hey.” You nudged Rick's knee with your elbow. He sat on the bed above where you were, cross-legged on the floor next to your box of bullshit.

He looked down at the paper you showed him, and for the first time that day you saw his lips twitching up into a smirk. His eyes trailed over the paper and he grabbed it from you, bringing it up closer to his face.

“Is that Daryl?” He questioned, and you nodded, a grin splitting across your face.

“That's good.” Rick nodded, shrugging his mouth. “You got a real talent. Looks just like him.”

Daryl was too bored to hide his interest, so he stood from his spot under the bedroom window and walked over to you. He grabbed the notepad from Rick, and you could see his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out your scribbles in the dim lighting.

“Yeah?” Daryl looked up when he heard the two of you stifling giggles and laughter. “Think that's funny? Gimme that.” He snatched the pen from your hands and flipped the page, sitting down on the dresser and scribbling furiously.

The pad was tossed in your lap a minute later. Your eyes widened on the drawing.

It was obviously you. You had on the same sweater, but it went down to your feet instead of your knees, and you were standing beside a cat. The only problem was, the cat was three times taller than you, and you had the ugliest expression on your face. Your mouth hung open and you were nagging the cat about scratching up the furniture. It was based on a scenario that had happened the day before, with your cat back home, Daisy, who you had caught shredding the living room couch.

“Dude, what am I? Two inches tall?” You laughed, handing the paper to Rick. He covered his mouth to hide the smile, but you saw it through his fingers and stood to give him a shove.

“Right, sorry. Drew ya too big. Hold on.” Daryl came over and drew a new stick figure of you so small that it was the size of a real ant.

“Ooookay, fuck you.”

Daryl dogged the small notepad you'd tossed at his face, and started laughing. Actually laughing. Your smile grew softer as he and Rick began to joke. It had been a while since you'd seen either of them behave in such a lighthearted manner. It made the bare bedroom seem not so cold.

Eventually the curtains were drawn and the lanterns dimmed considerably. You'd claimed the only spot on the bed that wasn't lumpy or sunken, which just so happened to be the middle.

No other reason, promise.

For the sake of his joints, Daryl had given up trying to sit on the hard floor and joined you on the bed, claiming the side closest to the window. He'd made sure to put distance between you, so much so that he was nearly hanging off the edge.

Rick had a little more resolve than the other man and stood by the window for a bit, occasionally peeking out the heavy curtains to see the same amount of darkness as before.

“Thank god you showered this morning.” Rick grunted as he sat down on your left, knocking his boots together before he brought his legs up on the bed.

“Me?” You blurted immediately, already feeling the tiniest but of anxiety, Rick never teased you like that. He saved that for the men.

He gave a toothy grin and shook his head. “No. Him.” He pointed over your body to Daryl, who was smoking his third cigarette of the night. “Carol made him take his monthly shower after he came home covered in coyote blood.”

You giggled, glancing over at Daryl.

“Yeah. Laugh it up.” Daryl took a deep drag.

You kicked off your shoes and sat upright, taking off those god awful shorts while the two men continued to playfully insult each other.

Rick caught himself going quiet when he saw you pulling the shorts down your thighs, his mouth drying at the sight. Daryl quickly shot him a look, dragging his attention away from your now bare legs and back onto him.

You didn't notice a thing, but you wished you had. Maybe you'd have started grinding against him earlier that night.

You were the first to fall asleep, to no one's surprise. There were little things that you loved more in life than sleeping.

Curled up underneath the sheets that you'd checked twenty times for bugs, sleep came quick and easy for you.

The sweater you were wearing had become incredibly uncomfortable so you swapped it for Rick's hole ridden T-shirt, leaving him shirtless. The image of his bare chest and the muscles in his back almost gave you enough adrenaline to stay up the entire night, but Daryl's soft breathing and Rick's body heat beside you tugged you unconscious.

Rick was next to give in, he'd kicked his boots off and climbed under the sheets with you, not before sliding a pillow between your bodies, more for your consideration than his modesty. He didn't give a shit, but he was worried you might.

Daryl was last, and by complete accident. He'd meant to take the first watch but the sounds of rain on the roof, gentle thunder outside, and your soft breathing beside him had him out like a light.

Two hours went by before something woke Rick up. The feeling of pressure against his crotch.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times in a struggle to see, but the room was too dark to immediately recognize his surroundings.

Once he remembered where he was he relaxed. He closed his eyes again and almost fell back to sleep when he felt it.

A gentle nudge of something soft and plush against him, something that made him well aware of the situation in his sweatpants. He was painfully erect.

His eyes opened again, but the room was no easier to see in. He could still hear the sounds of quiet rain and wind, and the new sound of Daryl's soft snoring.

Then you whimpered.

It was quiet, barely audible, and whiny. You were squirming in your sleep, the pillow between the two of you now between your knees, separating them to prevent the annoying feeling of bone on bone.

Your ass moved back against him again. He pulled his hips back, his dick immediately complaining about the loss of contact with a slight twitch. He clenched his teeth together and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep.

Think about cold showers. You're taking a cold shower, he thought, taking deep breaths. Cold cold shower. She's in a cold shower--- raw potatoes, grub worms, rotten walker flesh, her flesh, her ass is only a few inches away, snug in those cute boyshort underwear-

Daryl let out a sudden louder snort, startling Rick out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, only closing once he heard the earlier gentle snores return.

Your movements stilled and he was able to sleep once again, not without an iron will mindset.

You weren't sure how long you'd been sleeping when you woke up. You checked your watch, seeing the green glowing hands pointed at the twelve and nine.

It was only twelve forty-five.

You sighed.

The room had grown colder as the night went on, cold air seeping through the thin cracks in the walls and floorboards.

As a result of said colder temperature, Daryl had moved closer to you, be that in his sleep or on purpose, you didn't know. All you knew was he was there on your right side, his bicep warm and pressed against your upper chest.

Rick had also moved closer. So close, in fact, that his hand was on your waist, resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Your heart sped up when you realized this, and when he pulled you closer in his sleep you almost gasped.

He was hard.

Like, really hard.

You could feel it behind his sweatpants pressed right into your ass. His breathing was slow and deep, letting you know that he was definitely asleep, not that the knowledge did much to stop the arousal filling your chest.

You couldn't stop the whimper that sounded deep in your throat. Daryl's snoring covered it, or you thought it did. Rick stirred behind you and you heard the sound of him sniffing sleepily.

He had to be awake, you were sure of it. His breathing had become quiet, much different than the sounds of someone who was deep in sleep. He made no move to pull his hand away from your hip, confusing you even further.

Maybe he wasn't awake.

A lightbulb went off. You wiggled your hips, very slightly, only a few millimeters side to side. It was enough to gain a reaction from him, which let you know that he was definitely awake.

Rick's grip tightened on your hip.

Then he pushed into you.

There was nothing you could've done to prepare yourself for that kind of response. You sucked in a breath and felt your pussy throb. It was such a faint and quick movement, but you could vividly feel the shape of his dick pressing against your ass.

You heard movement behind you, the sound of his stubble scraping across his pillow as he moved his lips to your ear, speaking barely above a whisper.

“Stay still.”

Your eyes flicked to Daryls face.

You could barely see the outline of his head illuminated in moonlight thanks to the parting clouds. His nose pointed up at the ceiling, his lips parted as he breathed.

A wave of heat traveled through your body, starting in your chest and shooting down to your core. You felt that flipping sensation in your lower stomach and you whimpered again, rubbing your thighs together.

Rick inhaled deeply through his nose at the action. His hand shifted upwards, moving over your hip and splaying over the curve of your waist. He could feel you pressed against him, even if you weren't moving, and it made him groan faintly.

The sound of him groaning sent another spark through your core. You couldn't help it, you arched your back just enough to feel friction. You were too weak willed.

“Sweetheart.” He breathed, his forehead resting against the back of your hair to try and steady himself. “You gotta stop, please.”

He hated how desperate and wrecked the whispered words came from his lips. Hated how his dick was aching in his boxer briefs.

Hated how he was just as weak willed as you, his hips moving forward in a way that betrayed his words and stomped them in the mud.

You couldn't understand why you were so unbearably aroused. You weren't a teenager going through puberty. You've had partners.

Sure, you had a little admiration-fueled crush on the two men, but the way your body was behaving was animalistic. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your chest and your pussy was soaked.

If only you had your vibrator that was back in Alexandria, you'd orgasm in five seconds, you knew that for a fucking fact.

Daryl muttered a nonsensical sentence in his sleep, his head lolling over in the direction of the window. His right arm rose to lay over his chest, and his left leg spread out in your direction.

His knee bumped against the top of your thighs, almost slipping between them.

You could've screamed.

You tried to stay still, really, you did. But the feeling of Rick pushing against you again, Daryl's knee nudging between your thighs, it was impossible. You moved your hips, intending on just pushing back against Rick but your action also succeeded in grinding down right on Daryl's knee.

Rick could feel resistance in your movement but his mind couldn't focus on anything but the feel of your plush ass pressing against his dick.

His blood ran cold at the sound of Daryl mumbling in his sleep again. He held his breath, waiting with baited breath to see if he'd stir awake.

Relief flooded his body after a moment of silence, and he pressed his face back into your hair. There was still a faint smell of shampoo or conditioner despite the earlier rain. The feminine smell made his dick twitch and he flexed his jaw.

You were caught between excitement and horror. Daryl's knee was wedged right between your thighs, and occasionally it would jerk up against you. Each time it would make you fight away a gasp, and make your clit throb.

Daryl was definitely asleep, right? If he woke up he'd roll over on his side, right? There was no way he was awake, pushing his knee right up against your pussy, right?

You reached down to grab Rick's hand, which was still resting against your waist, gripping onto his fingers for support. His fingers curled around your own and sent butterflies in your stomach at the feeling of comfort.

He hated himself for all of it, but in the moment, he felt like he didn't care. His hips rocked against yours, once, twice, the need to get relief clouding all judgment he was capable of having.

You couldn't help yourself either. Your eyes fluttered shut and you rolled your hips, soft and slow, against Rick's bulge and Daryl's knee. You'd tried several times to push it away, wiggle back further into Rick, but it was like there was a goddamn super magnet attached to your clit and his knee cap.

You bit down hard against your lip, trying to keep your voice from escaping. Everything felt so good, Rick dry humping his heart out, your clit buzzing, it all felt so overwhelmingly amazing that you hadn't even noticed Daryl's snoring was no longer present.

In the end, it wasn't enough, Rick was being too cautious. You needed more, just a little bit. You pushed back hard against him and heard his breath hitch in his throat. His hand gripped yours so tight it almost hurt, and he leaned into your ear.

“Movin’ too much. Stop.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You shook your head, your lip trembling between your teeth.

“Can't.” You breathed. You physically couldn't stop, you knew that and Rick knew that. You were both so close to relief, you'd already gotten this far, there was no point in stopping now. No going back.

Rick swallowed hard as he felt his resolve break at the way you and your body pleaded. It was all he needed. His hips moved a bit faster, a bit rougher. His hand left yours and grabbed the string of his sweatpants, fingertips pinching the ends, hesitating only for a second before he pulled.

Time seemed to literally freeze when you felt him digging his cock out behind you. Your heart stopped, your breathing stopped, and so did the grinding of your pelvis. You couldn't think. It was suddenly all too very real.

You didn't expect Rick to do something like this. The dry humping, sure. He was horny and it wasn't really that big of a deal. But this? Tugging down your underwear? Spitting on his hand and stroking his dick to get it wet for you? It felt like a dream and way too terrifying at the same time.

“Sweetheart…” His hot breath against your ear snapped you back to reality. “You… you gotta be quiet, okay? Promise?”

You'd never nodded so quickly and eagerly in your life. Your heart felt like it was literally up in your throat. The tight knot in your core became more and more taut, and it trembled when you felt the hot tip of his wet dick bump between your folds.

Rick nearly came when he felt how wet you were. It was mind blowing, you were fucking soaked. The hot lube was covering your pussy and trailing down the side of your ass, reaching his hip bone.

You inhaled deeply when you felt him start to push in. You'd think with how wet you were it would be easy, but your muscles were wound tight due to the nearly paralyzing fear of possibly waking Daryl.

There was a bit of self disgust when you felt the weight of reality sinking in. The absolute pathetic degeneracy of what you were doing with Daryl right next to you.

That self disgust faded when Rick pushed into you.

Rick swallowed a groan as his cock dug up into you, your walls hot and soft and squeezing the life out of him. He could feel how nervous you were so he slipped an arm over your side, his hand reaching for your own again.

You moaned.

His hand broke from your grip and clamped over your mouth. Neither of you moved for a solid minute.

It was the longest minute in history. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you, your clit throbbing so hard you thought it was going to have its own little heart attack.

Your thighs absentmindedly squeezed against Daryl's knee, and you were sure you'd start crying.

Finally, Rick began moving. His breathing was growing heavy behind your head, his face burying back into the mess of hair in front of him.

His movements were slow at first. Tantalizingly slow. He waited until he was sure you could stay quiet before picking up the pace.

Your eyes had adjusted a fair amount in the darkness. You looked up to Daryl, finding comfort when you saw his eyes were still closed, but he'd stopped snoring long ago.

You dismissed it and grabbed onto the wrist of the hand covering your mouth, gripping tight for support.

Your right hand slipped under the sheets to rest on your thigh, but instead landed on Daryl's lower thigh. He must've been a very heavy sleeper, because he didn't react to it beyond the muscles tensing under your palm.

The sound that escaped Rick's lips had your eyes rolling back into your head. A trembling whimper. His movements grew quicker and deeper, his dick dragging your walls against him, pulling out every drop of arousal he could and thrusting it back in.

Your mind spun as all thoughts left your brain. There was nothing going on up there anymore, just dark blackness, the feeling of Rick fucking you taking over your conscious body.

His hand grabbed yours, the one on Daryl's knee, and pulled it away from you, to the right.

When your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft, you didn't question it. You didn't even question his fingers moving yours to wrap around his dick.

Your eyes shot open.

Rick's dick was still inside you. His right hand was still on your mouth, his left on the small of your back.

Daryl's eyes were open, and looking right into yours.

You went to jerk your hand away out of reflex, but his grip was tight, forcing your fingers to stay wrapped around his thick cock. Your eyes flew over him, fighting to understand what was happening, when had he woken up? Just then? Or was he awake when he pushed his knee between your thighs?

The orgasm that came out of nowhere pushed all those questions aside.

You moaned against Rick's hand as you came, no longer trying to be quiet, no longer trying to keep your hips still. Your thighs clamped down on Daryl's knee, grinding rough and quick.

Much to Rick's absolute heart-stopping horror.

He tried to muffle your moans, forcing his hand down painfully hard on your mouth, but it did little. He bared his teeth near your ear and hissed for you to stop, the sound sharp and jarring as it came through his clenched teeth, but then his eyes landed on the scene over your body.

Daryl using your hand to stroke his dick. Daryl with his other arm bent behind his head, his face tilted to the side to watch your expressions with parted lips.

It took Rick a few seconds to recover from the near heart attack. He almost lost his boner from the heart dropping adrenaline, but your wet walls spasming around him coaxed his hips forward.

Now that you didn't need to be quiet you pulled Rick's hand off your mouth and gasped down a lungful of air. Your mouth was hot and dry, and it was hard to swallow.

You couldn't take your eyes off Daryl, his eyes, the eyes that hadn't left your face since he woke up.

God, he was unbelievably sexy. The way he was so responsive to your touch led you to believe your hand might possibly be the first hand to touch his dick other than his own.

He grunted softly, his eyes finally falling shut after you gently squeezed the base of his dick. You'd be content to get him off with one hand like you had been for the past few minutes, but you couldn't resist the urge to give him his first hand job and blowjob.

“Up.” You panted. You curled your finger at Daryl, pointing up. He happily obliged and sat upright, scooting up towards the headboard until his lap was right in front of your face.

He seemed absolutely thrilled, ecstatic even. His once heavy eyes were now wide open, watching every move you made as you shifted your upper half so your mouth could reach his dick.

Rick was still thrusting with hesitation when you moved. He watched you lick broad stripes on the underside of Daryl's dick, and he couldn't help but glance at his face to see his reaction.

Mouth hanging open, eyes clenched tightly shut, his expression almost looked pained. His hands had found their way to your hair, gripping two handfuls as he began trying to move your head for you.

You slapped his hands away and grabbed his wrists, an action that had his eyes opening and looking down at you.

“Don't.” Your hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of his tip. He pinched both his lips shut between his teeth, nodding quickly, a shaky closed-lip moan rattling in his throat.

Rick finally got ahold of himself and grabbed your hips to turn your lower half on your stomach. He kept his dick inside you as he slid on top of you, his knees spreading to rest on either side of your thighs.

You were taking Daryl's head past your lips when Rick suddenly fucked you like he'd been wanting to the entire time. Both his hands rested on the small of your back, pushing your hips down into the mattress with all his weight to keep them firmly in place.

You gasped around Daryl at the feeling of Rick pounding into you from above. It was a comically drastic change from only five minutes before when he thought Daryl was asleep.

Daryl's wrists flexed in your hands where you had them pressed against his lower stomach. You knew he was only keeping them there in your grasp because he allowed it, and not because you were somehow strong enough to keep even a single wrist of his in your fist, let alone two.

It took a lot of effort on Rick's part to actually finish. Having Daryl in the room when you fucked was one thing, but having him making all that noise just from your mouth was another.

He was honestly more surprised that Daryl actually enjoyed sex acts than the fact he was engaging in them with him in the room. With no one other than you, a girl he almost never saw him interact with.

Rick had assumed Daryl simply wasn't interested. Incorrectly assumed.

Either way, having Daryl only a few feet away from him while he had his dick inside you was something he wasn't sure he enjoyed. But the way you clenched around him every time he pulled back was enough to make him forget about it.

Daryl was struggling to keep himself together. He had no point of reference, but he thought you were incredibly talented at giving head. You were giving it your all, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. It was impressive how well you were managing to concentrate on blowing him with Rick making such a mess of your pussy.

You couldn't be happier. You knew there were so many women back in Alexandria that would kill to be in your position, lying in front of the Daryl Dixon, lying under the Rick Grimes, both of their dicks inside you.

“Wa-wait.” Daryl suddenly sputtered and ripped his wrists from your hands to cup the sides of your face, giving a few gentle slaps with the tips of his fingers.

You looked up, not taking your mouth off of him. His expression made your pussy clench around Rick and he groaned behind you, the sound raw and deep. He shifted his hips and ground down against you, quick and rough, his tip jabbing deep inside you.

The ragged moan you let out reverberated through Daryl, and the hand you had around his base gave a trembling squeeze.

“M’boutta, Jesus! Hey, oh, godfuckindamnit-” Daryl's jaw dropped and his eyes rolled back, his head tipping backwards as he made that same pained expression and came down your throat.

Your hips were roughly jerked up from the bed, shoving you back on Rick's dick, and then his hands slipped under your armpits to pull up your top half.

It was hard to stay upright, but thankfully Rick was generous enough to provide you the luxury of his hands tight against your tits, keeping your back flush against his chest.

Oh, it was a goddamn shame Daryl had just come. The sight in front of him was something he knew millions would pay- no, kill- to see. You looked breathtaking. Rick had taken your shirt off some time ago, leaving you completely bare as you kneeled in front of Daryl.

He forgot to breathe as he watched your face, slack in pleasure. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and on him, something that made his softening cock twitch. All that struggling just to look at someone like him? The hell did he deserve to have someone like you looking at him like that?

Rick deserved praise for the way he supported your weight with just his hands, keeping your entire upper half pressed against his chest while he fucked you in desperate effort to finally get off. His dick felt raw from how long he'd been at it, his balls throbbing from the delayed orgasm, it was a wonder he was able to keep himself upright, let alone you.

“Daryl.” The way you whimpered his name made his cock jump back to life, and he pushed himself up on his elbows to look up at you, eager to obey whatever it was you were about to ask.

“Yeah?” He rasped as he stared up at you.

You'd placed your hands over Rick's and moved his fingers over your nipples, which he was pinching and rolling, something he understood without you even needing to ask.

“Touch me, please.”

You didn't need to ask twice. Daryl inched down the bed and kept himself propped up on one elbow, his other arm sliding over his chest to reach your clit.

Rick decided at that moment he definitely didn't like threesomes. Feeling you twist and hearing you moan due to Daryl's thumb rubbing against you made his chest and face hot, a childish reaction considering you and Rick were not a thing, and certainly not an exclusive thing.

He just wasn't good at sharing.

The silly jealousy led to him putting his all into pleasing you. His thrusts became slower but deeper, more forceful, knocking out a gravely groan from your throat with each one. His hands left your breasts to tangle in your hair, pulling it up into a makeshift ponytail with his fist being the hair tie.

Your skin buzzed when he pressed his face into your neck to plant sloppy kisses. He bit down and you whined, arching your back against him and tilting your head to the side to provide him better access.

Unlike Rick, Daryl didn't have a care in the world. His mind was completely blank as he stared up at you above him, oblivious to the way his thumb cramped from the constant circles he rubbed into you.

“C'mere.” You breathed, wrapping your fingers in Daryl's hair to urge him up and guide his mouth to your nipples.

Daryl's eagerness to please was one of the hottest things you'd ever witnessed. He took your right nipple in his mouth and went to town like his life depended on it.

He flexed his tongue, digging the firm and wet muscle around your bud, circling it the same way his thumb now circled your clit.

Your orgasm came screeching out of nowhere.

You cried out and gripped Daryl's head tighter, pulling his mouth firm against your breast as you came.

The feeling of your walls squeezing the life out of his cock finally brought about Rick's own climax.

He wrapped his fist around the hair bundled in his grasp and tugged your head to the side, baring your neck to his itching teeth, and clamped down as he gave a rough thrust.

You'd failed to notice that at some point Daryl had grown hard again, only noticing when he let out a ragged moan into your wet chest.

Your bleary eyes found him and caught sight of his hand quickly jerking himself. There was the flash of thick cum spurting out, long ropes coating the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck.” You slurred. Now that was the new hottest thing you'd ever seen.

Rick's teeth released their grip on your neck. He pulled back and let his head droop back as he caught his breath, his shoulders heaving with deep and ragged pants. He became aware of how uncomfortably sweaty he was. His chest and back felt soaked, and he dropped your hair to pull away from you.

You heard Rick plop down on the bed behind you, the springs creaking from his sudden weight dropping on it all at once. You were too busy admiring Daryl to pay attention to it.

There was a lazy smile on your face, your eyes half lidded and glued to his face. Even though the room was dark you were sure you could see how red his cheeks were. His lips were glossy and parted as he took in deep breaths, still wet from drooling all over your tits.

He could barely keep his eyes open, and with the way you had one hand cupping his face, the other brushing back his sweaty hair, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The sweet way you were looking down at him was just too hard to look away from.

The next morning wasn't as awkward as one would think, even though it was obvious Rick was having some internal battle on the ethics of what he'd done the night before. He'd never been in a situation where he knew he really shouldn't be doing something like that, so his lack of restraint was new knowledge he'd have to ponder over.

Daryl couldn't give any less of a fuck, that morning he gave you the whole princess treatment. Grabbing your now dry clothes, your bag, your shoes, and bringing them to you. Offered you the last of his water and opened every door you came across for you. He didn't say much at all, much like Rick, but his mood was clearly the exact opposite.

It was so sweet it made your heart ache.

“Hey.” Rick pulled you aside after you finally got back home, shooting Daryl a look to give the two of you privacy.

“Hi.” You smiled. The stern look on his face was cute.

“What we did-”

“Don't.” You stopped him, giving the man a tired smile. “It was the sexiest thing I've ever done and I'm fine with it being a one time thing, but don't ruin it and tell me it was wrong.”

“I wasn't going to say that.” His gaze had softened, but he still looked down at you with his hands on his hips like a disappointed authority figure. “I just don't want you to think it's okay to bring up if we're all alone again.”

“I'm not stupid.” You snorted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Won't bring it up again.”

He sighed in frustration, trying not to roll his eyes but failing. “No, it ain't that either. Let's just- next time,” your eyes widened, “not be as spontaneous.”

You grinned. “Alright. You got it.”

Daryl was nowhere near as reserved about the experience. You could understand Rick's point of view, conservative family man, that was probably the most extreme thing he'd ever done in bed. But Daryl, oh, you'd just changed his fucking world.

“Pst.”

You stopped in front of the bathroom to see Daryl nodding you over, lighting a cigarette as he stood near the door to his room.

“Hi.” You smiled after approaching him.

“You okay?”

You beamed at the question, shifting your pile of clothes in your arms. “Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?”

He nodded as he took the first pull, turning his head to blow the smoke away from your face. “Is, uh…” He nodded his head to the front door, where Rick still stood on the porch talking to a few people. “He alright?”

“He's fine.”

“Alright. Good.” He shifted awkwardly. He cleared his throat, looking down at the cherry on his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. “That somethin' you wanna do again?”

You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the ecstatic smile that threatened to embarrass you, and nodded.

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh of relief and disbelief. There were a few seconds of silence, his eyes darting between his cigarette and your face. “With me?”

“Of course. Maybe next time just you.” You turned to head back to the bathroom but quickly turned on your heel and walked back to him. “Daryl? When did you,” you struggled to get the words out, ironic considering how bold youd been the night before, “you know, wake up?”

“Oh.” He grunted, his ears burning. “Dunno. While before.”

You felt a mix of embarrassment and relief. So he had pushed his knee between your legs on purpose. The thought had your stomach flipping and your face getting warm, so you gave a quick and polite smile before running off to the bathroom.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @jinx-nanami

Do you have any more Daryl Dixon!Serial killer but now he's like in love with you and he is very very codependent

I could totally do that I love clingy and codependent @heathermason6060

SCREAMING RN

Hi, my lovlies. I'm back again to give you some very passionate Norman content. From the movie Tough Luck (2007), which was actually fun to watch. It's a heist movie, I'd say give it a try for Norman.

And this is from the good ol' days (or low budget production) when not everything needed music as a background and you can hear all sorts of sounds.

If someone wants to make gifs and such feel free to dm me, I'll share the clip or the whole thing.

P.S. yes I included the freaking dialog cause I'm a sucker for that smile

MDNI 18+ and all that

And pop in the earbuds

@daryltwdixon @lavenderwatercolor @alphabetically-deranged here you go darlings

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut: Teasing will get you Somewhere

Gif found on Pinterest unknown credit

Warnings/Mentions: Blue balls, Dark/Rough!Daryl, sexual teasing (Daryl receiving) rough sex, spitting, choking, manhandling, biting, blood blisters, spanking, bruising, it might smell like dubcon but it's not

Summary: Reader wants to see Daryl at his breaking point, teasing and depriving him of release until he gets there. 

Notes: I loved writing this so much. While trying to think of a plot for dark!Daryl I remembered this idea/prompt someone had like 5 years ago where the reader teases a guy until he cracks and just goes crazy. I think it was a fanfiction, but I looked through my bookmarks and ao3 history and couldn't find anything like this so if you know what I'm talking about please let me know!!

All you wanted from the start was to see Daryl snap. He was such an aggressive loudmouthed man, but not in the way you wanted him to be. 

He'd started flirting with you to appease Merle, the man who'd instantly noticed how you swooned around Daryl. The younger Dixon didn't believe him, of course, but he approached you to avoid the harsh blows of Merle calling him a ‘belly-up pussy’ along with more distasteful slurs. 

His way of “flirting” was a lot like Merles at first. Offensive, inappropriate, you know the rest. You'd been patient enough to politely explain that you weren't like the type of women that would fuck Merle after he called them a 'sweet piece of Georgian ass', and he took the hint. 

Daryl was shockingly sweet after that. He was less verbal after learning vulgar compliments weren't the way to go, but it turned out alright for you in the end. He began looking after you like you were his full responsibility. Making sure you were fed first, bringing home clothes specifically for you, along with any other treats he thought you might like. 

It was great, aside from him never making a move on you. He gawked like you were an alien when you started dressing for his gaze, Bobby Brooks shorts, pretty tank tops, even shaving your legs once in a while. But he never made a move. 

That simply wouldn't do. 

It was late one night and you'd slipped into his tent. 

“The hell you doin'?” He cursed, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you zipped up the flap behind you. 

“Can't sleep, Carl won't stop coughing.” 

You'd been sharing a tent with Lori and Carl ever since you arrived with T-Dog. It wasn't a complete lie, Carl was coughing up a storm, sick with some chest cold, but that wasn't the reason for your lack of sleep.

“I got some earplugs.” He sat up and began shifting through his bags. 

“No, it's okay. Can I crash here tonight?” You asked innocently, kicking off your casual flip flops that you saved for night time piss breaks or trips to get water. 

Daryl tried hiding his surprise . The stutter in his voice gave him away. “Uh, sure, I guess. S’long as ya dun snore.”

You behaved for an impressive amount of time. Lying in silence, not moving an inch, waiting for him to loosen up before quietly shifting backwards until your back was pressed up against his chest. 

His heart felt seconds away from collapsing in on itself when he felt you. He'd popped a semi when you'd taken off that big T-shirt he'd given you, and now it was bordering on a full on erection.

You waited until you felt his body relax, which took longer than you originally estimated, and then wiggled your hips. 

The reaction was immediate. He sucked in a breath through his nose and made this choking sound. He grabbed your hips, only for a split second before yanking his hands away like he'd been burned. 

You wiggled again, pushing back until the feeling of the outline of his dick against your ass was ingrained into your memory. 

It didn't take long to wear him down, not at all. He let out a strangled groan and rocked into you, his self restraint long since thrown out the window.

And then you stopped.

He nearly gasped at the loss of friction. The feeling was so devastating that it sobered him, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

“Wha-” he panted. His fingers loosened their hold on your hips and twitched against the fabric of your pajama shorts. “Why'd ya stah- stop?”

“I'm sleepy.” You said plainly, pulling the thin sheet up to your shoulders in emphasis. 

Daryl caught his breath behind you, struggling to make sense of it all through his confusion and disappointment. He grumbled something that sounded like it held an attitude, though sadly that was the extent of his protests. 

You needed more. You needed him to tear your clothes off and ravish you like the animal you knew he was. The Daryl that feverishly humped you like his life depended on it was cute, but you needed the Daryl that he was in his daily life. 

The only way you could think of was to force it out of him, even if it did torture the poor man in the process. 

You kept up the innocent teasing for a while. You took a break after Merle went missing, you knew your limits and his. You weren't a total selfish piece of shit. Only when you arrived at the farm and he began talking to you again did you resume your game of “teasing Daryl until he cracks”.

“How's it look?” You gave a cheeky smile as you turned in a circle with your hands on your hips. 

You'd put on the pair of green cargo shorts he'd found you. They weren't very practical, holding only four pockets, which was less than normal cargo shorts, but they were scandalous. The fabric hugged your ass tight enough to look damn near pornographic. 

“Didn't realize they were that tiny. Christ.” Daryl muttered with pink cheeks. “Jus’ give ‘em ta Beth. 

“Oh god. Can you imagine her face? That girl is still wearing pants in late summer. Her daddy would kill me.” You snorted and turned back to face him. “I'm keeping these bad boys. The fabric is soft. Wanna feel?” 

“Already felt em when I took em.” Despite his words, he set down his knife to free up his hands. 

“Give me your hand.” 

The poor boy was so eager to feel you that he practically threw his hands in yours. When you placed his palms on the sides of your shorts he seemed to snap to life, dropping the nonchalant attitude to rub his thumbs over the fabric covering your hips and thighs. 

You tried to keep the smug smirk off your face, and failed miserably. He was turning himself on just by touching the clothing that covered your pelvis. 

Suddenly, you pulled away, feeling your heart lurch in your chest at the way his face dropped.

“Thanks again. I've been needing new shorts.” 

“Yeah. Uh-huh. S'nothin.”

It went on like that for a while. 

One night you climbed into his tent again with the ruse of being cold, and he didn't mention the fact it was a warm seventy degrees that night. You were wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties, and made sure to make Daryl aware of this when you slid your knee over his thigh. 

Nothing happened that night either, nothing other than pretending to sleep while he palmed himself through his jeans. 

Another time you put on those green cargo shorts and offered to tidy up his camp, an offer he was quick to accept just so he could watch you needlessly bend over to grab random objects to place somewhere else. 

Once you even made out with him. Late at night in his tent, things got hot and heavy and you straddled him, wearing the same oversized T-shirt and panties, washed since then, of course. 

He was nervous at first, you could tell by the way his hands trembled on their way up your sides. You kissed him slow and sweet, nothing too extreme, not until he pushed his hot tongue against your lips. 

You let him in and groaned at the enthusiasm he showed. He kissed you like you were still teenagers, up in the loft of some barn hiding away from Daddy. 

“Shit.” He panted against your lips. He moved his hands down to your waist and pulled you down hard, groaning when he got that first taste of friction he so desperately craved.

“Slow down.” You breathed. Your body betrayed your words, your hips rolling down gentle and slow, just enough to feel the outline of his aching cock through your clothing. 

“Why?” He muttered before pressing another kiss against your lips. “Wha's stoppin’ ya? I got condoms. Glenn's got the pill. S'fine.” 

You pulled up and away from his lips. He looked so pretty beneath you all desperate like that. It still wasn't what you wanted. 

“I don't know, Daryl-” Your voice choked into a whine when he moved under you, the friction momentarily rendering you speechless. 

“Can't ya feel what yer doin’ to me? Huh?” He snapped his hips again, forcing out another whine. “S’all for you. C'mon now.”

“Not here Daryl.” You tried to keep your voice level and firm. “Not in some tent where we have to be quick and quiet.” 

“Le’s go somewhere then. Anywhere ya want, don't care. Tell me. I'll take ya.” 

Truthfully, that almost made you give in. But it still wasn't the Daryl you wanted to experience. He was desperate, but not desperate enough. 

“Not tonight, Daryl. It's too late and Shane's on watch. He'll have my ass if he catches us sneaking out.” 

Daryl growled in frustration, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Won't get caught.”

“Yeah, sure. Let's just wait another night.” You pressed a kiss against his cheek, innocent enough, contrasting painfully with the way you ground down against him one last time before sliding off.

Part of you started doubting your plan. Daryl was too reluctant, too full of self doubt, too terrified at the aspect of losing whatever fun thing you had going on by pushing your limits. Even though you had no problem pushing his. 

His patience amazed you. Any other man would've thrown you to the side after the first few times, or ignored your “wishes” and dove right in. He didn't know that's what you wanted. You couldn't blame him. 

How could you tell someone like Daryl “I want you to fuck me with enough desire and aggression to give a nun a heart attack”? He'd been too gentle during foreplay, too submissive, you were beginning to think he was a virgin. 

Maggie gave you a dress. You didn't know who it once belonged to, her or her sister, but it was one of the cutest things you'd ever laid eyes on. A pretty moss green that went right below your knees, laces up your stomach the same color as the dress, and thankfully, no sleeves. 

The domestic look had Daryl in shambles. You looked like a farm wife from a damn magazine, it took everything he had in him not to fuck you behind the barn like he wanted. 

He took you out that day. On a ‘food supply run’, as he called it. You weren't anyone's first pick for runs, which you understood, you were easily distracted. It was your biggest fault.

So when he asked you specifically, and you alone, you were barely able to contain your excitement. 

The first place you stopped by was an old farmers corner store to pick up enough food so you didn't come back empty handed. A few canned goods, stale snacks and three cans of soda. 

He left that in the back of the truck when the two of you stopped by a house. A very nice house, to your surprise. 

“Can't believe this place hasn't been trashed.” You commented while rummaging through the kitchen. “No more food, but there's some lighter fluid.”

“Hm.” Daryl grunted. After securing the front door he found you still in the kitchen, chewing on a mouthful of gum. 

You'd shoved about three long sticks in your mouth. “Want some?”

He eyed the gum wrapped in silver paper before taking it from your outstretched hand with a gruff thanks. 

It was hard to focus on, his heart felt like it was in his throat, it was hard to swallow, and his jaw ached from his aggressive chewing. He'd done everything you wanted, got birth control; condoms and plan B. He found this nice house that same morning, almost immediately after seeing you walk outside in that dress. He even cleaned up the master bedroom for you, dusting off the sheets and beating the pillows, opening the windows to air out the room. 

There was no way you could wave him off now.

Oh, but you found a way. It was a talent that needed to be fucking studied. 

You were digging through the dresser in the upstairs bedroom when he approached you. You ignored the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him, pretending to be very interested in the contents of the bottom drawer. 

His hands found your sides. Your skin tingled as he pulled you to your feet and pressed you against the dresser with his palm on your lower back.

He went to kissing the back of your neck. His lips were light and soft, contrasting the anxiety bubbling in his gut. 

“Hmm.” You hummed. He brushed your hair over your right shoulder and went back to kissing your neck, peppering them all the way to the point of your left shoulder. 

“Missed ya'.” He muttered, pushing his hips forward to drive home his point. 

You tried not to laugh with pity at the feeling. He was already hard? Poor thing. 

“We're supposed to be looking for food.” You chided playfully. You shifted your ass and earned a low grunt of appreciation for the friction. 

“Then why’re ya in the bedroom?” He challenged. When you didn't respond he smirked against the skin on your neck. 

His hands didn't wait for permission. He bent his knees so he could grab the bottom of your dress, gathering it in his fists and pulling it up and over your ass. He sighed at the sight, you were wearing the type of panties he'd only ever seen on a clothing rack or behind a screen. Black soft fabric, tight and with lace around the hem, hugging your curves just right. 

“Daryl, come on.” You chuckled, but made no attempt to move. “They're gonna wonder where we went.”

He laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “Don't give a shit. They'll survive.” 

“And what is it you wanna do so bad that's more important than feeding our people, huh?” You mused, placing your palms on the dresser he was pushing you harder up against. 

“Ain't my people.” He quipped and ground into you, dying to make you feel how desperate he was for you. 

You choked back a moan. “You didn't answer my question.” 

“Want ya. Right here.”

“Want me to what?” 

Daryl sighed and released his hold on your dress to grip your waist. “Wanna fuck ya nice an’ good. Make y’feel what y’been missin’.”

You groaned. Your grip on the dresser turned white-knuckled as he pushed against you again. 

“Yeah?” Your breath trembled past your open lips. “What else?”

Daryl pressed himself closer, until his mouth was right at your ear. “Wanna feel what ya’ been keepin’ from me. Taste ya'. Shove my dick in that pretty lil’ mouth n’make ya sorry.” 

His words had an obvious effect on you. Your knees trembled and your breathing was louder, more shallow. 

But he still hadn't cracked. 

The curiosity was eating you alive. You couldn't give in now, not when he was so fucking close. You turned to face him and gave a ghost of a smile, trying your best to look sympathetic.

“Maybe some other time.” 

His eyes widened and his eyebrows scrunched tightly together. His nostrils flared as his pupils darted over your face, looking frantically for the slightest sign telling him it was a joke. He looked hurt, confused, like you just slapped him in the face and called him a slur.

There it is. 

“You-” he choked out, “Y’aint serious?” 

You forced a nod. 

“Why?” The way he raised his voice sent a bolt of pleasure through your core, and you had to fight back a whimper. “Got everythin’ ya needed. Went through the trouble’a findin’ this place, ain't gotta be quiet, ain't gotta worry ‘bout walkers or someone hearin’, the hell else you want from me woman?” 

You couldn't stop yourself from whimpering. You bit your bottom lip and tried to steady your breathing, but when you stole a glance at his face and saw the expression held there your lungs shifted into overdrive. 

He looked so fed up. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” You whispered. 

Daryl sneered in contempt. “The hell can I do ‘bout it? Not gonna beg.”

You swallowed hard. You slowly shook your head, your chest rising and falling dramatically, your body still trapped between his arms, his hands on the dresser behind you. 

“Don't want you to beg.” 

You pressed a hand between his legs and he let out a strangled groan, his elbows swaying as they threatened to give out. You flexed your fingers to massage his length, and pulled away. 

His eyes shot open and just as quick his hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back to his bulge and nearly breaking your fingers in the process of shoving them down the waistband of his jeans. 

After unbuckling his belt he was able to cram your hand down deeper, forcing you to feel him. 

You gasped when your fingertips made contact. You didn't know a dick could get that hard. It felt just as firm as any other extremity. 

“Daryl.” You let out a long sigh as you gave a half assed attempt to pull your hand out. His grip on your wrist tightened. 

“Hmm?” The teasing tone of his hum made your clit throb. 

“We can't-” You didn't get to finish your sentence before he scoffed and picked you up. Like actually picked you up in his arms, bridal style. He threw you on the plush bed where you bounced a few times, and dove into you.

“S’enough.” He muttered. He pulled your dress up over your waist and looped his fingers through the sides of your panties. You thought he'd hesitate, take a look at the expression on your face and back off, but he didn't. He tugged them down your legs and tossed them off the bed in a random location. 

“Ain't some pussy ya’ got on a leash.” His fingers snaked between your legs, beelining for your cunt. He groaned in surprise, his eyes rolling back at the feeling. You were beyond wet at this point, his aggression had your folds like a slip n slide with lube instead of water. 

You bit back a moan. His fingers spread your folds, smearing your wetness around, his thumb pressing down against your clit. 

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your hips instinctively shifted to the side from the overwhelming sensation, but a firm grip on your waist quickly snatched you back. 

“Think y'can do whatever the hell ya’ want, and I'll jus’ sit back an’ let ya’?” He didn't give you time to answer. He pushed a finger inside you, and both of you hissed at the feeling. “Ffuck. Shit ain't like that no more, princess.” 

Any other time you would've snapped at the insult, but his finger digging around inside you had your mind blank. 

“Wha’s wrong? Huh?” He twisted his finger and you cried out. His voice was sickly sweet, something that should've pissed you off but only fueled your arousal. “Got nothin' to say?” His finger curled, a movement that held no thought behind it, though the way you gasped and arched your back had him repeating the action. 

Then he started mocking you. “Oh no, not now, it's not right, I'm not ready!” He scoffed in disgust. “Like ya’ a lot better when ya’aint speakin’.” 

Oh, god. You should be fuming. You should be spitting venom right back at him, but this is everything you'd wanted from him. It was all going according to plan. 

Maybe he knew that, or maybe he didn't. Either way he was behaving just as you'd imagined countless times, rough, mean, cruel and demanding. 

“C'mon, try a little bit.” He growled after leaning down to bite at your open neck. “Go on. Tell me it ain't the time. Tell me.”

You were nothing but a puddle under him. Your hands became too restless and reached up to grab at him, balling your fists in the back of his shirt.

Never in your life had a man treated you like this. No matter how bad you teased and gave subliminal signals. They would either indulge in your teasing, respect your wishes and back off when told to, or kiss and plead until you relented. 

Finally someone was fucking you like you had always wanted. Or, they were about to. 

The knuckle of his thumb had been digging into your clit for a good minute now, and despite how uncomfortable it could feel at times, you came quickly. 

You sucked in a sharp gasp and locked your legs around his waist, trying to pull his finger in deeper, or make his knuckle grind harder. 

Daryl groaned into your neck as you came around his finger. His hips jerked forward and bumped against his hand between your thighs, knocking his digit in deeper. You yelped, not expecting such a sharp sensation during your warm and soft climax. 

He withdrew his finger and you whined. 

“Sh-sh-sh.” You didn't think a hush could sound so condescending. “Got somethin' better. Gonna make you regret not takin’ it sooner.”

You said it before you could stop yourself. “You don't have it in you.” 

His eyes flicked up to your face as he pulled his zipper down, a look on his face that sent chills across your bare legs.

There was slight amusement, slight relief, as if someone finally gave him permission to show off and prove himself. Lips parted into a breathy smirk, tongue peeking between his teeth, and one eyebrow raised. 

Your eyes dropped to his pants when he pulled his cock free. It looked just as you imagined when you'd touched it only minutes ago, standing at full attention against his lower stomach.

You let out a sigh when you saw it reached his navel. 

Daryl leaned down until he was level with your pussy. You heard it before you felt it, the sound of him spitting, and then warm drool dropping right on your sensitive clit.

You squealed in protest, trying to raise yourself on your elbows, but he stopped you with a hand on your chest. With his free hand he smeared his spit over your already soaking folds, even going as far as to push some inside you with his finger. 

“Ew!” You gasped. 

You felt a tingle. Subtle at first, you just assumed it was the salinity of his saliva, and then more prominent. You were close to panicking until you saw the wad of white gum shoot out of his mouth, landing with a smack against the hardwood floor. 

At least you knew the source of the tingling. You swallowed your own gum, the same way you'd completely forgotten about.

The skin around your cunt buzzed when he slapped the tip of his dick on your clit, and you squirmed beneath him. He steadied you with the same hand on your chest. 

“Wait.” You inhaled deeply. He didn't wait though, he just pushed into your clenched hole, ignoring your whines.

“Ssss-shut up.” His voice trembled. He used his free hand to wrap around the base of his dick, holding it straight as he slowly pushed in further. 

“Y-you said you had condoms.” 

Daryl let out a loud groan as he sank into you. His right hand on your chest increased in pressure as more and more of his upper body weight bore down on it, forcing the air from your lungs. 

He was so thick, and it had been years for you. The burn was incredible, in such a pleasurable way that you should've felt ashamed to enjoy. You tried to moan, but nothing came out aside from a strained breath. 

“Ain't nothin' gonna make me feel rubber instead’a this.” He grunted. He rolled his hips forward and finally pulled his hand off your chest to roll the dress up and over your body. 

“F-Fuck.” His whimper was strangled in his throat. Being completely naked under someone who was fully dressed had you clenching around him, earning another whimper from said man. 

“Should feel ‘shamed, keepin' all this from me.” 

You didn't. Not one bit. 

“But I know ya'aint.” 

You furrowed your brows, momentarily stunned by his apparent mind reading abilities. He jerked his hips forward and your face fell slack, your jaw dropping and your eyelids falling shut. 

His thrusts were harsh, but far too slow for you to get anywhere. You grabbed his shirt and used it to pull him down, desperate for more stimulation. 

Daryl happily obliged. His breath was hot on your ear before he took the lobe between his lips, sucking and licking the flesh. You gasped as he bit down on it, and you could sense the smirk on his lips. 

“Daryl?” You breathed, the name breaking on your tongue with another thrust. 

“Jesus.” He groaned, thoroughly annoyed. He released your ear and pulled back to look at you, frustration evident on his face. “What?”

“Thought I was gonna regret it.”

Your words had his upper lip twitching and his eyes widening ever so slightly. 

“Yeah?” He huffed. “S'gonna be like that?”

He rose from your chest, shifting until he was sitting on his boots. His hands grabbed onto your hips and yanked you down on his dick, forcing a cry from your dry throat. It took him a few seconds to position himself, leaning back just a bit, his grip on your hips tight, and then he started fucking you in a ruthless pace. 

It wasn't what you were expecting. Your mouth dropped into a long gape and your eyes shot open as he pounded his pelvis against yours, driving his dick so deep it reached places your fingers never had. 

Each thrust had a gasp burning in your lungs, and those gasps quickly grew to embarrassing moans. Now that you were ashamed of. If you had the ability to stop it you could, but the way he was thrusting into you rendered you utterly unable to control yourself and the sounds you made. 

“Get up.” 

You weren't sure why he even spoke, because he was moving your body by himself before you could process his command. He pulled you to the side of the bed and turned you over on your stomach, bending you over and shoving his dick back inside you so fast you shrieked. 

Your feet flew up behind you, smacking against the back of his thighs. If you could've seen it you would've laughed. 

The new angle was paralyzing. His dick was no longer tilted against the spot under your stomach, the spot that had you a drooling mess seconds ago. Now it smashed against a deeper part of you, a part that had you groaning with each frustration fueled thrust. 

“Fuck.” Daryl groaned, his pace slowing to give momentary reprieve. He wasn't as young as you, and even though he was always out there doing a hundred times more labor intensive activity, he needed a second to catch his breath. 

There was still an itch yet to be scratched. While he regained his bearings you fought to think of a way to say it without actually saying ‘i want you to hurt me and fuck me till I cry’. You'd already humiliated yourself enough. 

When he began picking up the pace again, you reached for the hand beside your head and bit down on his knuckles. Not gently, either. You bit down so hard he could've ripped a tooth out with the way he yanked his hand away.

“The fuck?” His voice was barely below a shout. “Ya’ crazy bitch!” 

There was no retaliation besides a particularly forceful thrust, to your irritation. 

“You baby.” You managed to grunt out. “Barely bit you.” 

“Barley bi-” he scoffed, looking down at the hand he now had splayed across your lower back. There were deep pink imprints from your teeth over his index finger knuckle, and the skin around it turned a bright red. 

You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from its grip on the bed sheets. Your heart hammered quicker than his thrusts when his breath tickled your skin, and then he bit you. In the same spot you bit him.

It wasn't nearly as hard as you bit him, but you still whimpered at the ache. 

“Point stands.” 

Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing. His jaw set and he dropped your wrist. 

The smug smirk you'd been keeping to yourself fell when your hair was suddenly twisted in the fist of his right hand. With just that leverage alone he pulled your upper body up, and his left arm snaked around your torso to keep you flush against his chest. 

He yanked your head to the side. You gasped. 

“This what ya’ wanted, huh sweetheart?” He breathed against your ear and drew back until his dick nearly slipped out before slamming back in.  

“Mmm-oh god yes.” You blurted out between moans. 

“Jus' had to ask.” He managed a chuckle. 

“More.” 

He furrowed his brows, but kept up the slow and deep pace. He couldn't imagine what else he could give you. He was fucking you hard enough to bruise, he was pulling your hair, what, did you want him to start beating you? 

He dipped his head down to bite your shoulder, holding back just enough so that he wouldn't give you an actual wound. 

You have to consider that biting someone with enough force to actually break the skin takes a lot. Skin isn't like the flesh of a fruit. It's tough, and would require chewing to break through. So for him to stop right before that point meant he was biting you so hard you got blood blisters, and the pain was all you could focus on. 

Your wail of genuine pain had him pulling back like he'd been shocked. His thrusts slowed, and through ragged breaths he spoke, “Shit, m'sorry. M'so sorry.” 

“No.” You gasped. Your shoulder felt like it was on fire, and your walls cleaned around him in response. “So good. Feels so good.”

Daryl let out a huff in relief. “Ya’ weird as shit, yanno that?” 

“Mhmm.” You groaned, pressing your ass back tightly against him. “More.” 

He took a deep breath to steady himself and pushed you back down on your stomach. He had to work himself up to it, the idea intimidating. Once his thrusts were back to their former sharp pace he raised a hand in the air. 

You tilted your head to the side so your cheek was pressed against the blanket. When you saw his right hand held up, your heart leapt. You never nodded so quickly. 

Daryl ground his teeth together, glancing down at your ass, your face, and back to your ass again before smacking his hand against it. 

It was barely a love tap. 

You groaned, wiggling your hips and earning a moan from him in response to the feeling on his dick. 

He took the hint and gave another smack, harder, but still not giving that burn or satisfying ‘smack’ sound you wanted.

“Daryl, please.” You whimpered. “Hurt me. I'm not made of glass.” 

You barely got the last word out before he slapped you. Open handed, fingers spread and slightly curved to mold perfectly against your asscheek. You yelped and instinctively tried scooting up the bed, held back by his left hand on your hip. 

It clicked in his head then. No wonder people liked spanking so much. His palm tingled and he could see a faint handprint start to color your skin. And the way you reacted, that sound you made, your body trying to get away from him, it made his dick twitch. 

“Fuck!” You cried out after another hard slap. The pain fully distracted you from the ache in your shoulder, white hot pain spreading across your ass and up your spine. 

“Such a baby.” He meant it to sound patronizing, but he was still too amazed by the new turn on he'd discovered, and the words came out breathless. 

Your whimper bled into another cry as he spanked you again. 

And again. 

Again, again, until you were on the verge of tears, sobs bubbling from your wet lips as you tried to squirm away from him. 

As if you actually wanted to. Which you clearly didn't. You were practically gushing around his dick. 

He rubbed his palm over the deep red skin, barely soothing the blinding burn he'd left behind. “Goddamn.” 

“M'gonna cum.” You were literally drooling. 

He snapped his attention away from your ass and back to you. “Whaddya want, huh?” He quickened his pace once again, jolting forward to press his body against your back. You whimpered at the way he moved, his dick pushing deeper inside you. 

“More, please,” you stuttered, trying desperately to work your hand under your body, which proved to be difficult due to his weight on top of you. 

Daryl noticed and lifted your hips with his hands. He shoved your eager arm out of the way and rubbed your clit with his own fingers, fast and deep in a way he assumed you'd like. 

You moaned under him, arching your back, feeling him slip in further. It was as if he grew another inch every five minutes. Or you grew another inch deeper, and he was staying the same. Either way he was deeper, and it felt immaculate. 

The rise to your climax was slow, but powerful. You were fully prepared to gently tip over the edge and slide down in bliss. 

That was before he slapped your pussy. Then you fell down gasping. 

Daryl held onto your body like you were a wild mustang, trashing and twisting under him in ecstasy. He withdrew his hand and grabbed your hips again, resuming his brutal pace, clamping his teeth down on the back of your neck to keep your bodies anchored together. 

It took a while for you to come down from your high. When you did it was violent, the pure bliss smashed away by burning overstimulation. 

“Fu-uck!” You heaved in deep breaths. “Daryl s’too much, can't, wait!”

“Ever since that night ya’ came in my tent, blue ballin’ me like that,” he growled against your neck, “-been dreamin’ ‘bout havin ya’ like this. Fallin’ apart. Face full’a tears. Ain't stoppin now.” 

He wasn't bluffing. He didn't stop. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, ramming into your abused cunt, only slowing to shift in positions so you were on your back. 

The air felt amazing against your chest. Daryl ripped that feeling away with gnashing teeth, biting your hard nipples and alternating between sucking and pinching.

The house had to be surrounded by walkers by now. There was no way it wasn't, you were crying and moaning like you were getting paid for it. 

“Oh, god.” You wailed as another orgasm built up quicker than ever inside you. “Oh please, fuck, god!”

A jolt of pleasure shot through your core when Daryl's hands wrapped around your throat. 

Now, Daryl was no stranger to strangling someone. He'd choked plenty of people out before.

In fights.

He was unaware there was a different type of choking for pleasure. Instead of squeezing the sides of your throat with his thumb and fingers, he wrapped both hands around your neck and fucking strangled you. 

You squeezed your eyes shut so tight they ached as you came. Your orgasm had started off blinding, overwhelming every inch of your body, but Daryl's crushing grip soon muted the tail end of your climax and filled your ears with a deafening ringing. 

Daryl pulled his teeth off your nipple and panted against your ear. “Lemme cum inside ya’, sweetheart.”

You could barely process what he'd said. You forced your eyes open against the pressure induced burn, trying to find his face, only to see the side of his head. 

“Can't pull out.” He growled and released some of the pressure around your throat. Oxygen and blood flooded your head, leaving you dizzy and with black around the edges of your vision. 

“Can't, m'sorry. Oh, huh-  fuck!” His voice was strained as every muscle in his body tensed up. His hips surged forward, stuffing his dick balls deep to coat the end of your walls in his cum. “Mmm-fuck s’good. So good. Ohhh, Hah-” 

He choked on his moan. He moved his head, replacing his hands around your neck with his mouth, kissing and biting at the tender skin as he spurted ropes of hot cum inside you. 

Your body broiled under his crushing form. Your thighs relaxed from their clamped position, falling off his waist and dropping to the bed beneath you. Your lungs ached and your throat was raw, but your pussy buzzed so intently it felt like you had a vibrator pressed against it. 

“Oh, god.” The tone was full of dread and you forced yourself to focus on Daryl. 

“What?” You croaked. There was a stabbing pain in your neck from Daryl choking you out like you were a man his size. 

“Yer all fucked up.” He whined. He traced his fingers across your throat. “S’bad. Oh fuck.”

“Calm down.” You sat upright after he pulled back enough for you to do so, his dick dragging out against your trembling walls in the process and making you hiss.

“It's okay. I'll just tell em a walker got the jump on me. We've all seen them grab throats. It's fine.” You pressed a kiss to his worried lips. 

“Gonna tell em a walker did that too?” He pointed an exhausted finger at the bite mark on your shoulder, which was now in the early stages of a deep bruise, not to mention the blood blister in the shape of his teeth.

You laughed softly. “Fuck no. I'll just skip the tank tops for a week or two.”

That seemed to settle him enough and he nodded, moving to lay on his back. 

“That was amazing.” You broke the long silence. “Seriously. You're the first man to ever… you know.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at you. “Huh? Y’never…?”

“No! I mean…” you sighed. “Never had a man make me come.”

Now he was at full attention, sitting upright and leaning back on his palms. “Nah, no shit.”

“I'm serious.”

He let out a light scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched you climb off the bed to grab your thrown panties. “Me too.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you stepped into them. “Really? You never…?”

He nodded, going back to biting his cheek. 

“How'd you last so fucking long?”

A cocky grin crept across his lips at the compliment behind your words. He was worried he didn't last long enough. And you just asked him how he held on so long.

“Jerked off like, ten fuckin’ times today.” 

That meant he knew he was going to fuck you today. Heat spread through your core again, despite how worn out you were. You smiled and climbed back on the bed to smother him with kisses. 

“You're so fucking hot.” You mumbled against his lips, which were moving weakly against your own. 

“Says the bitch that wouldn't fuck me.” He chuckled. 

“Just wanted you to make the decision for me. It's a lot hotter that way.” You hummed, pulling your swollen lips away from his. “It worked.” 

“Psh.” He rolled his eyes and began stuffing his soft cock back in his jeans. “Put yer clothes on. Place is probably crawlin' with walkers. Le’s get the hell outta dodge before anymore show up.”

Now that Daryl was in on your little game, you couldn't wait to play again. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

Dream Walking ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: you catch rick having a wet dream about you. you both try to move on from it, but with it stuck in each of your minds, it's near impossible to just go back to the way things were.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, dub-con, age gap (20s, late 30s), wet dreams, somnophilia

word count: 5.4k

Since the prison fell, you’ve had time to think about what it is you miss most. The security of the fences was nice, so was the comfort of the thin mattresses. There were also the routines everyone had fallen into that filled your days with a sliver of how life felt before everything went wrong. However, the piece you missed most, the thing you craved on nights like these, was the privacy of your cell.

You took those months for granted at the time. The ability to retire to your own space once the sun set was long gone. Now you lie with the rest of the group on the floor of this barn, sleeping all together like a pack of wolves in a den.

It wasn’t that it was horrible. You felt safe with everyone so close. You also didn’t have to worry about anything going wrong in the night without your knowledge. It just wasn’t as pleasant as getting to be alone at the end of the day when both your mind and body are tired. How you craved the sound of the steel bars shutting and the feeling of the lumpy pillow against your head.

But all that lies underneath a pile of rubble now. There was no use wishing for another time you’d never get back.

You sigh and roll onto your side. The thunder and rain outside was keeping you up. Your eyes scan the dark room to try and find another open pair, any one of your friends who would be able to suffer along with you. You don’t find any, which is a good thing you suppose, but now you’re left to lay all alone in hopes of sleep calling your name sometime soon.

You were in the corner of the barn with your jacket tucked under your head. That’s the spot you’d taken up as soon as people were picking where to sleep. You liked having walls to your back. It was less space for something to hide or attack from. Some of your friends like Abraham and Daryl lie along the walls like you while others like Carl and Michonne rest near the center, wanting to be close to any potential threat.

Rick sleeps a foot or two from you. He’s on his back, one arm behind his head while the other is draped over his abdomen. You can hear the deep and even rhythm of his breath, and you know that he’s out cold at least for the time being.

After a little while he rolls onto his side like you had, and you think that you’ve found someone to share your struggles with. When you look over at him though, his eyes are still shut, his lips are still parted, and his body is still limp. 

Your lips purse with disappointment, but your eyes soften. He needed the rest. He’d been stretching himself to the limit ever since your group had barely made it out of Terminus alive. You understood why. The group needed somewhere stable to call home. You just wished he wouldn’t put that responsibility entirely on himself.

You always liked Rick. He’d taken you in a couple months after the outbreak when you were scared and alone, shaking and covered in blood on the side of the highway. You’d just seen the final members of your previous group fall victim to the dead. On the verge of giving up and letting a herd claim you too, you saw him dash by. He was looking for a missing little girl. Instead he’d found you.

Even on the farm when everyone was fighting over everything all the time, you admired him like you did now. It was almost weird to think of him now compared to back then. The clean-cut officer friendly you’d met a couple years ago now sported shaggy hair and a beard along with eyes always scanning for danger.

The crush you harbored for him was as strong as ever though. Not one thing about that had changed. Unlike his hair, you hadn't grown out of it in the slightest.

You continue watching him while the wind and rain team up to beat against the wooden slats of the barn walls. Interrupting your study of his features, he grunts. It’s quiet; so much so that you almost miss it amongst the other noise. It seems ordinary enough, but he does it again. And then again as he rolls further to his side so that he’s nearly on his stomach.

“Mmmm…” he sighs, “Fuck.”

Your eyes widen a little at that, but you smile, wondering what was frustrating him in the world of his dreams. His lips smack idly against one another for a moment before he speaks again.

“Just like that, baby. Atta girl,” he murmurs.

And now you’re really interested. 

Your hand flies to your mouth to stifle your reaction. You didn’t know whether to laugh or try to wake him. You knew that waking him up would be the right thing to do… but you didn’t want to just yet. He rolls his hips against the hard ground he’s sleeping on, which you know can’t feel that good. But he does it again. And he looks like a divine being as he does so, everything about him enrapturing you.

Another low groan seeps from his mouth, and a couple incoherent words follow. You bite your lip and look around again to make sure no one else is watching you. You couldn’t help wondering who he was dreaming of. Maybe Lori still crossed his mind every once in a while or possibly he harbored some secret desire for someone in the group. Perhaps it was just a plain old sex dream and he was envisioning some woman he liked before the world changed.

“Fuck…” he grunts again, “Such a good girl.”

Warmth simmers to life in your belly, and you find your thighs rubbing against one another. Those two words were a weak spot of yours, so of course he'd have to rasp them out like that. You'd be lying if you said you'd never imagined them falling from his lips but hearing it in reality was so much sweeter.

His arms shift around as he continues trying to find some relief against the dirt. By this point, a bulge has formed at the front of his pants, and the sight is enough to make your mouth water. You know this is wrong, perving on him like this, but you swear to yourself that you're gonna wake him up. Just a few more seconds. Though before you get the chance, he moans again.

Among some expletives and praise, your name floats into the night. The syllables leak out in a hushed manner, but they send a jolt through you regardless. Your eyes widen and the heat in your tummy creeps up through your neck into your cheeks.

"Just a little deeper, dolly," he slurs, "That's it."

This time you're unable to repress the laughter that bubbles in your chest. The sound is soft, but it's enough to rouse him.

His eyes flutter open, his pupils still laden with sleep. It takes him a few seconds to register all that's going on.

"What're you gigglin' about?" he grumbles as he sits up and rubs his face.

But as soon as he moves, he becomes conscious of what was so amusing to you. He feels it rock hard against his thigh and flashes of his dream run through his mind. You can see it on his face, the embarrassment over the fact that he'd been caught having a wet dream. Caught by the very person it starred.

"Sorry," you simper.

He tries to maintain his usual stern temperament, but you see his humility in the flush of his cheeks. He can't look you in the eyes right now. His mind struggles to grasp the words that would make this better.

"Grow up," he mumbles as he starts to roll the other direction, "You've never had one of those? How old are you?"

"Old enough for you to dream about apparently," you say with another little laugh as you go to lay down yourself.

"Shut up," he mutters before closing his eyes again.

A few days went by before either of you addressed it. That was Rick's doing since he pretty much avoided you as best he could after it happened. It made you a little sad, but it was understandable. You probably would've done the same if the roles were reversed.

The group had left the shack from that night in search of more food and water. The bunch of you stagger in factions as you walk along some train tracks through the woods. Maggie, Glenn, and Tara lead at the front while Michonne with Carl carrying Judith linger a little behind them. You're trekking along with Sasha and Rosita before letting yourself fall back so you can be besides Rick.

"Are you mad at me?" you ask.

He glances over at you. "No, I'm not mad at you," he states matter of factly. 

"It seems like you are."

"Why's that?" he asks.

"Cause you've been avoiding me," you say with a coy smile.

"I haven't been avoidin' you," he denies.

"Mhm," you respond, "C'mon, it's not that big of a deal. Things don't have to be weird now."

His eyes remain on you as if trying to analyze your intentions. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything," he says.

"The only thing making me uncomfortable is how awkward you are around me now," you say with a little feigned pout, "Seriously, I don't care. It was just a dream. People can't control dreams. It's not like I caught you jerkin’ off to a picture of me."

"Keep your voice down," he says, eyes flitting ahead to make sure no one had heard the topic of your conversation. He then sighs and runs a hand over his sweaty hair.

"C'mon, Rick," you say. You give his arm a little shove but do make a point to lower your volume. "I'm sorry for laughing at you."

"No you're not," he says and for the first time in days, he cracks a small smile.

Your face reflects his expression like a mirror. "Well... it was funny. But I still didn't mean to make you feel bad. It doesn't bother me or anything. I know dreams don't reflect real life," you reassure him.

He nods and remains quiet for a moment as the two of you continue down the tracks. You were slightly hoping he'd tell you his dream was based in reality. That he did want you while awake just as much as he did while he slept. But that was a wilder dream than the one that had caused all this. 

He finally speaks and looks over at you again. "I appreciate you keeping it to yourself and not making a thing out of it."

"Of course," you beam at him, "I'm a good girl, remember?"

He gives you an unamused stare in response before lightly shoving the back of your head, guiding you back towards the rest of the group. Despite his outward annoyance, you could see the fondness return to his eyes.

It only took you a few weeks to make Rick regret his leniency in regards to your jokes. You still hadn't told anyone directly about his dream which he was grateful for, but people would probably find out soon enough with all your teasing and hinting.

At first, it seemed like you truly wanted to move on from it; leave what you'd witnessed in the past and forever wonder if the dream spawned from a place of true desire or just his brain fucking with him. Things were stressful enough for everyone during that week, especially Rick. The group had nearly succumbed to dehydration one day and struggled to find shelter for the next few.

But then you all had been invited to Alexandria. You and the others had been welcomed with open arms into a slice of the old world. Everything seemed to settle down for the most part. Your people were still on edge, Rick was ready for conflict at any moment, but no longer were you constantly worried about if you'd be able to find food or water.

And with things simmering down, Rick was pretty sure you decided that it'd be ok for you to turn the heat up.

It was after a week or so of being there that the jokes started back up. You'd reference the "good girl" part of it the most, but occasionally you'd mix it up and go for a "just like this, right Rick?"

Each little remark, every time your smug smile rose on your lips, the way you pranced around the community as if you knew a dirty little secret; it all compounded, a new stone being thrown at the glass that housed Rick's resolve.

Tonight he can't sleep. Everyone else in your group is passed out, exhausted from a long day. But he's wide awake. He feels restless. He shifts around on the sofa and sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Since joining Alexandria, everyone had begun easing up about sleeping arrangements. The first week, you all piled into one house and slept around the living room as if it was one of the sheds you'd been bouncing between before. But after some time went by, people began to spread out.

Everyone had basically claimed a house as their own by now, some sharing their's with a few other group members. Rick kept the one everyone had started off in. Carl and Judith slept peacefully in bedrooms of their own upstairs while he took the couch. Even though this place seemed like a paradise, he couldn't bring himself to trust it yet. He couldn't sleep in the master bedroom that was tucked away in the back of the second floor. It was the farthest from the stairs and all the doors. He'd never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn't in the position to protect his children.

Though they weren't the only ones in the house with him now. Peering down the hallway in front of him, he could see you. Despite how much you loved acting tough and teasing, underneath you were still vulnerable, and Rick wasn't blind to how you looked to him for comfort. When you came to him in the evening and asked to stay as everyone was heading off to their own beds, he couldn't say no. You could make all the bratty jokes and innuendos in the world, and he still couldn't stomach the thought of you feeling unsafe.

You were still sleeping on the floor against the wall. As much as you had missed your bed from the prison, you found yourself not ready to transition back to a mattress again when the time came. Rick understood. It felt weird going from the hard ground where you could spring to action in seconds to a comfy bed that cradled your form and kept you drowsy and unaware. At least in your place in the hall, you slept on some chair cushions he offered you so your body wasn't bare against the hardwood.

He watches you, taking in your sleeping form amidst the quiet of the house. A thin blanket covered most of your body, but he could still admire other parts of you from a distance. He could see the precious way your fingers curled around the edge of the fuzzy material draped over you. Your face looked so soft and delicate in its completely relaxed state. Your cute, plush lips were parted ever so slightly.

As his eyes raked over you, he felt something stir within himself. Instead of hearing your gentle breathing, the sounds his mind had created as you moaning in his dream played through his head. He tries to shake them away and think of other things, but you are all his brain wants to think about. If it's not you moaning or writhing in pleasure beneath him, it's how you giggle after telling one of your stupid jokes. It's the way your eyes widen with amusement when he growls "keep it down."

And if it's not that, earlier memories flicker through his internal vision. He can still remember the day he met you like it was last week. You standing there, bloody and shaking. Your eyes wide and darting around. So different from the you he saw today.

He sits up and scratches his jaw, feeling the skin that was now smooth from his recent shave. He still couldn't tear his eyes away from you. You had rolled over now, taking some of the blanket with you. He could see slivers of your legs and the roundness of your ass peeking from below the border of the blanket. Sighing, he leans back into the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He had it bad for you, and he knew it. He just didn't like thinking about that fact or being cognizant of how pathetic he could be for you. Like having a wet dream. He hadn't had one of those in well over a decade before this last time. It was ridiculous.

It wasn't so much that he thought you didn't reciprocate. You were all but a petulant schoolgirl pulling her crush's hair for attention. Rather it was just that you were quite a bit younger than him, and it made him feel like shit. He supposed it didn't matter, being the end of the world and all. Things weren't the same as they used to be. It was a miracle to find anyone you could feel this way about now. But that didn't stop guilt from tying his intestines into knots every time he imagined anything more with you.

You didn't ease that feeling by toying with him so much either. Day in and day out, you practically begged for more out loud every time he came around you. His mind swirls with all the instances of your temptation, and in this moment, he really starts to feel that his guilt is unnecessary. It would probably return in full force tomorrow, but for right now, while he thinks of all the things you put him through, he feels like he deserves a little something for his troubles.

He stands up, and finds himself walking towards the area you sleep at the end of the hall. Any other man left in this world would have staked their claim on you by now. A pretty girl flagrantly throwing herself at the object of her affection. His honor held him back, but it wasn't like this was something so serious, right? Didn't he deserve to let go once in a while?

He crouches down next to you. At first, he only stares, but soon enough his hand follows. It starts on your shoulder, rubbing in a small circle. His palm then slides up and down your side. He can feel your muscles molding to his touch. Your body recognizes your need for him even when unconscious.

He maneuvers himself closer to you, sliding behind you on the cushions so that his chest is against your back. His hand stays on your body, continuing its slow, rhythmic movements. He keeps it over your shirt at first before slipping it beneath, exploring the skin of your midriff.

You let out a little sigh and shift a bit in your sleep. You still don't wake up though. He nestles his face against the back of your neck, taking a breath of your scent. He imagines what would happen if you woke up right now. He's positive you'd be startled, but he'd bet his life you wouldn't push him away.

He'd only ever been this close to you one time before. It was a couple days after the prison fell. Like right now, it was also at night. It wasn't sensual like he was trying to make this moment though. That time you'd had a nightmare. You woke up in tears, shivering in the pitch black of the random house you were shacked up in with him and Carl. It hadn't taken any words. He knew what you needed. He held you close like right now until you'd returned to the safe embrace of sleep. Unlike his wet dream, the two of you had never spoken about that since.

Testing the waters, his fingers dip below the hem of your shorts. They glide over your hip bone, pressing a tender massage into the skin. You like that. He can tell from the way you lean into it. You roll onto your back to be closer to him.

He really goes for it now. His hand slides to the front of you to cup your sex over your panties. He positions his face in the crook of your neck and lays a few soft pecks on your throat. His digits then start to move slowly.

They caress your pussy over the soft fabric shielding it from his raw touch. But even with the thin barrier, he can tell you feel the sparks of pleasure. Your hips wiggle a little bit. Your mind can't discern what exactly the sensation is right now. All you know is that it's starting to disturb your slumber.

You whine, the tender noise garbled and half-hearted.

"Shh-shh, sweet girl," he coos in your ear.

Upon hearing his voice, he sees your eyelids twitch as if they want to open. His middle finger slots itself between your lips and strokes with more precision. He can feel slick starting to soak through the garment. You whimper again. There's still a chance this could go so wrong, but that's part of what has his blood pumping down South to his building erection.

Your thighs part, your subconscious desire shining through. He chuckles against your neck and swirls the pad of his finger over your little bud.

"There you go. Let me in, honey," he praises.

Him speaking again is what finally draws you back into the waking world. Your eyes crack open. You're confused by what's happening; the warmth to your left side, the tingling between your legs, the raspy voice in your ears.

The moment reality clicks in your head is visible to Rick. Your eyes widen, as much as they can while your lashes are still heavy with drowsiness. Your head turns to connect your gaze with him. As he expected, the situation was jarring to you but not in a way that was completely bad. His movements slow, but they don't come to a full stop.

"Rick, what are you-"

He cuts you off by leaning in and putting his lips on yours. It felt different than you'd imagined. You'd become so used to seeing him with a beard that your daydreams always had his kisses feeling scratchy. You didn't update your ideas when he'd shaven clean. There's no scratch at all now. Nothing but his lips on yours.

His heart pounds violently within his ribcage. He pulls back, ready for your final verdict. He feels your thighs squeezing around his wrist.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice soft and hazy like you had asked if you were still dreaming.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he responds, "I'm givin' you what you want." 

"Are you sure it's not what you want?" you ask.

Of course you'd still try to tease. Even when he so clearly had the upper hand.

"Oh I'm sure. You're not a mystery, sweetheart," he says quietly. He pauses for a moment but decides to to continue. "It took me having a wet dream for you to figure out you might have a chance, but I've known you've wanted me for a long time now just from how you look at me. Like you have little hearts in your eyes."

You bite your lip, both to suppress the moan bubbling in your esophagus and out of an embarrassment at how dead on he was. His finger works at you faster, sliding around in your arousal as he nips at your earlobe.

"You may as well have written 'fuck me' across your forehead, babydoll. Would've given me the same impression," he whispers.

You whine, and god, he can't get enough of how it feels to be the one teasing. For once, he's doling out the humiliation to you. You're the one with the shame boiling in your tummy and heat melting rational thought away in your brain. Your hips start to rock against his hand.

"Was this what your dream was about?" you whimper.

"No," he answers, smiling at your whiny tone, "That night you caught me I was dreaming about you sucking me off."

The mere suggestion makes your back arch and shaky breath exit your lungs. Once you're settled on the cushions again, Rick resumes filling in the details you hadn't been privy to.

"That's what got me. You were on your knees, looking up at me with those sweet eyes, pretty mouth full of cock. You were moanin', droolin' on it. You just couldn't get enough," he recalls as if talking about a memory, "I bet you love having a dick in your mouth, don't you? Lips like those were made for it."

You mewl again before nodding weakly. "I would've done it for you if you asked."

"I'm sure you would have," he smirks.

He leans in to give you more kisses as his fingers keep playing with your pussy. You keep rolling yourself into the touches. He's guessing you're getting close from the way your pace is picking up. He pulls back for a small break to catch his breath.

"Isn't this so much more fun when you're not being such a smartass?" he teases.

You pout at him as a reply. Your bottom lip wobbles as you struggle to maintain the expression. It was hard pretending to be upset when he was giving you everything you wanted.

"Don't look at me like that," he chuckles, "You're still a sweet girl. You just need the brattiness fucked out of you sometimes."

That wipes the pout away clean. Your lips part as you let out a tiny moan.

"Good girl," he croons.

But despite his praise, only a few moments later, he retracts his hand from your panties. You whine, and your eyes look up at him with a desperate urgency. He couldn't leave you like this. It would be deserved revenge for all your antics. 

"Nuh uh, none of that," he murmurs as his hand goes to push down his sweats instead, "So spoiled, and I haven't even started with you yet."

You quiet down, just relieved he's not leaving. You boost your hips to push your shorts and underwear down. He watches with satisfied eyes at your attempt to match him.

"I want you cummin' on my cock before anything else, sweet thing. Think you can do that for me?"

"Mhm," you hum softly.

Your stomach flutters and your clit throbs when his cock is finally in view. Just seeing it makes your mouth water. It's hard all for you, angry veins spanning down the shaft to the swollen head. You reach for it, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist.

"You don't get to touch it just yet. It's going inside you first. Then if you're good, I might let you play with it later," he says. 

In truth, this was the first bit of action Rick was getting in a while. Under no circumstances would he give you more ammunition for jokes by blowing his load from a handjob and then not getting it back up to fuck you proper.

You kick your bottoms all the way off as he rolls on top of you. He gives himself a few strokes of preparation before swiping his tip through your folds. A groan vibrates in his chest as the feeling of the warm, sticky fluid coating him. He lines himself up and sinks in. His hands move to the back of your knees, pushing your legs up to either side of your abdomen.

"Fuck, baby. You're tight," he grunts as he works himself between your walls.

You nod simply, still adjusting to the feeling of him stretching you out. Your walls flutter around him as if happy to finally have what you'd been craving for what feels like forever. He grunts again and tightens his grip on your legs.

A little bit more, and he's all the way in. He takes a moment to just feel it, your warm, wet, cunt sucking him in, embracing him like it was made to be his.

His forehead drops to press against yours as he begins to move. He thrusts at a moderate pace, but he makes sure to strike deep every time. Both of you are taking care to be somewhat quiet since it was the dead of night, but the sensations are strong with or without the noise.

"This what you been wantin', dolly?'” he breathes as the skin of his pelvis connects with your ass.

"Yeah, been wanting it everyday," you whimper, "I was hoping you'd have another dream."

"Oh yeah?" he asks, chuckling lowly between pants, "And you'd have been ready to help me out if it happened again, right?"

"Yeah. I needed it so bad. You don't understand," you whine. One of your hands rises up and tugs on his brown curls.

That draws a growl from him and makes him fuck into you harder.

"I do understand, pretty girl. Every time you ran that cute little mouth, I wanted to bend you over, spank that sweet cunt raw and then fuck it full," he mumbles.

Your eyes screw shut at the image he puts in your head. Your arms wrap around his neck and keep him close as can be. His hips rut into you with passion you'd never felt from anyone else before.

"That's all I wanted," you whine, clamping down around his length.

"You're gonna get it right now," he says and pounds against your hips harder.

They had morning after pills here. He'd seen a few packs in the infirmary. Cumming inside you one time would be fine. That's what his lust-driven mind told him anyways. He'd make sure to get some condoms before next time, because there would be a next time.

You wrap your legs around him and squeeze. He lets out a moan himself and slides his head over to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"Fuck, baby. You ready?" he asks.

You nod eagerly as you approach the edge yourself. You slide one hand down to your clit, giving it a few strokes to make sure you could get there with him.

His nails dig into the flesh of your hips when he cums. His jaw clenches, and he grits his teeth, using everything in him to stay quiet. And you cum seconds later. The way you pulse around him milks him dry. He spurts rope after rope of pent up release into your wanting cunt.

You tremble and whimper beneath him, your eyes unable to decide if they wanna roll back or close tight. He gently rocks his hips against you the whole time until you're both sated. Once both of your bodies are ready to give out, he pulls out of you. He drops back onto his side like he had been before and puts himself back together.

You reach down and pull your clothes back into place. He wasn't sure what was gonna happen next until you turned to look at him. Once he has a look at your expression, he can see the part of you that loves to rile him up and tease is gone right now. The vulnerable one that lurks beneath the surface has the reins right now. 

You curl up to his chest. You wanna cuddle and kiss as you come down, and he gives you that. He gives it to you until you drift off to sleep again. He's not far behind you. You'd tired him out enough that he felt he could pass out too.

He scoops you up and brings you back to the couch with him, imagining this would look better than the both of you crumpled up on the floor together in a pile of disheveled blankets. Having you tucked to his side like this was all he needed right now. He'd done more than let go tonight. He was letting you in.

But those were thoughts for tomorrow. Right now, he's content to doze off with you into a dreamless sleep. There was no need for dreams now that he had the real thing in his arms.

You Own Me

Pairing: Scud x Female Reader

Word count: 2,2k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, terribly written smut, p-in-v sex, creampie (the reader is on pills), sub!Scud, dom!reader, dirty talk, vouyeurism, degradation, praising, pet names, Scud calling reader a mistress, alcohol consuming, mentions of pot smoking, profanity, bad English (not my first language).

It was a late, lonely evening in your apartment. You were tipsy from alcohol that had been consumed before. Sitting on the couch, your head laying on the throw pillows, eyes closed. Some music was humming in the background. You needed to vent, and that was the maximum you could afford.

You secretly wanted some fling with him. That damn stoner was as hot as fuck. And if you hadn't known the details of how he was saved by Blade, you would try something long-term, but no, no, and no. So you were quite cold with him and bitchy. To your surprise, it worked the opposite way for him. 

That had been a stressful working day with Scud, who was flirting the whole day while you were trying to focus on new explosives for Blade’s next mission. It wasn’t so unusual about his flirty and touchy nature. He always tried to fill your space with his presence. Sometimes, he just sits silently in his chair, smoking and observing every move from you. Or traps you between him and a wall when you meet in a corridor. But this time, he almost crossed the line. Scud’s hands were accidentally brushing your butt when he walked by. He was trying to help you with explosives, standing behind you with an obvious boner poking between your ass cheeks. Or saying some pieces of advice in your ear with his sweet and relaxed voice, which sounded dubious. Damn, perv.

So, this teasing game at work today made you lose focus, and that damn lab could have been almost destroyed to the ground, but it ended with a local fire that you both knocked out. It was an understatement how Blade was furious, as it was quite luxurious to lose all the tech and valuable staff. After that incident, Josh was staying flirty, and you just sent him off and went home furious. 

You were almost falling asleep out of stress, tiredness, and the volume of alcohol in your blood system when you got a message from Scud. The display on your phone was showing a voice message. Not a usual behavior from him but still. Is it an apology message? Expecting him to tell some stupid jokes after smoking pot as an apology, you tiredly played it. 

Your eyes widened almost immediately upon hearing him whimpering; there were some squelching sounds in the background. He was whispering in a shaky voice. 

“Ah! Want you so badly. Just bend you over the table and fuck you stupidly till you can’t walk.”

JEESUS! The blood pulsating in your temples was almost hurting, and a sheer layer of sweat appeared on your forehead. Damn, that stupid stoner probably mispressed the recipient. But that didn't stop you from replaying it several times until you found yourself fantasizing and relieving your sexual tension. 

However, it didn’t let you fall asleep until the early morning. Being tired, worn out, and angry, you were preparing for work. You were craving an explanation from him, so you decided to wear the sluttiest outfit you had in your closet just in case your guesses were true that that damn message was addressed to you. Wearing a top with no bra underneath and a mini skirt, you went to work.

You came to the warehouse a bit later than Scud, who was already smoking and welding some parts. He turned around to greet you with a smirk on his face but froze, seeing you in a skimpy look. Tits with no bra evidently bounced under the top every time you made a step. Your legs seemed even longer with the help of the mini. 

“Morning,” he mumbled through the joint between his mouth. You silently sat down on the chair next to him. 

“Wanna get some explanations from you.” You were angry as fuck, but you were doing your best to hide it. “Yesterday evening, I got one interesting message from you…” 

“An interesting message?” He puffed out the smoke, playing dumb. 

“I can explain,” but he was trapped with your foot placed between his legs, applying a slight pressure to his hardness and balls. 

“Shit, no way he doesn’t remember anything; he is playing with me. A stud.” You silently took out your phone from your pocket and played that cursed message. His skin reddened in seconds, his lower lip was trapped between his teeth, his chest was heaving, and a smirk was forming. He shifted in his seat to stand up.

“Son of a bitch, you’ve even got aroused already,” you thought. “Then explain.” 

He gasped, his throat seeking air. He licked his lips, feeling dizzy, and that stupid smirk never left his face. 

“I was just… I smoked a lot, and… I’m really sorry; I barely remember it.” He was acting, clearly enjoying the setting. 

Your foot added some pressure to his arousal, now evidently visible to you. He whimpered, bucked his hips to your foot, and held onto the table so his fingers became white. You tilted your head to the side, your darkened eyes boring into his. 

“You, working almost in oblivion, are telling me now that you smoked too much?” He didn't reply; he just breathed heavily, being dark red. What a whore! You put off your leg and stood up, seeing him doing the same, but you just pushed him down back to the chair. 

“So, will you try to explain again?” 

“Sit down.” You took a plastic cable tie from the table you had laid your eyes on before and walked behind him. You aggressively grabbed his hands behind him and tied them. But surprisingly to you, he obeyed, and it pissed you off even more. “Damn, he literally craves my attention.” You walked back to your chair and sat down. 

He breathed heavier and more rapidly. “Okay, it was on purpose. Just tired of dancing around and stuff. You know what I want from you.” He licked his dry lips, observing you with a hungry look and already undressing you mentally, if not fucking you like an animal. 

“And you won’t get it,” you replied in a cold tone.

“Why?” He pouted playfully and shifted in the seat as if trying to free himself from the plastic tie. 

“I wanna show you how it is to be a tease. Wanna make you beg.” You spread your legs and shifted your underwear aside, letting your fingers glide over your arousal and smearing it over your clit. 

“Holly shit,” his eyes were glued to your movement.

You gasped and rolled your head back, back curved, with the other hand placed on the chair for stability. He licked his lips and bit them down with anticipation. His boner was painfully restrained in his jeans. 

You whispered, playing with yourself, lost in pleasure. “You like the view?” And you inserted two fingers inside your pussy earning a lewd moan from yourself. You heard him breathing rapidly, almost panting. 

“I want you, Y/N. Pleeease.” He was squirming, trying to find any friction in his jeans, but it failed. His cock was painfully trapped and leaking with pre-cum appearing as a wet spot on the fabric. 

“Who told you if you beg, you get what you want?” Your fingers moved back and forth inside you. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered, which made you laugh deviously and move your fingers faster, which made you clench, and you understood you wouldn't last long. 

“Please. Want you to use me. Wanna be your fuck toy. Just let me feel you.” His whining sent a jolt of pleasure. Understanding it was your approaching orgasm, you did the impossible and stopped yourself. You put your fingers out when you saw him opening his mouth, slightly hinting to taste you. You stood up in front of him and shoved your fingers in his mouth, which he started to suck eagerly momentarily. He was moaning while sucking your fingers, whispering in between.

“Mmmph, you taste so good, girl. I want more. I want all of you, please.”

“Think you deserve it?” Despite your cold demeanor, you were enjoying the view, which made you even more aroused. 

“Yes, please. I wanna take all of you. Wanna feel you tight around me. Please, Y/N.” He hummed and sucked your fingers. 

“My needy little slut”

“Yours and only. Just let me dive into your sweet pussy, please. I will do anything for you.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah, anything,” he whimpered needily. “Just fuck me already.”

These words made you clench around nothing, so you put off your fingers, seeing his hungry and desperate gaze, and decided to finally do what you wanted for so long. 

“Hips up!” You commanded, unbuttoning his jeans, and he obeyed with no hesitation. You pulled his jeans and boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free, hard and throbbing. 

“Ah, finally,” he gasped with relief when you suddenly grabbed his jaw in your hand. 

“Finally? How come those little needy brains thought I would fuck you, huh?” Your other hand grabbed his cock, smearing pre-cum over his tip, and started stroking it teasingly slowly. He shivered and exhaled shakily, his mouth agape.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Thought you're gonna show your sympathy towards me.” He let out a whine, his cock twitching. “I’m all yours, Y/N. Just sit on me, ride me, use me.” You started to stroke him faster, seeing his cock almost ready to cum while Scud was squirming, whimpering, and almost crying out of pleasure. And you suddenly stopped hearing a bitter whine from him and whispering, “Please, please, please.”

You pulled up your skirt a bit and stood closer, ready to sit down on his leaking length. You were lowering above his cock, shifting your underwear aside, and finally sank on his tip, letting out a soft gasp. Meanwhile, Scud was babbling yeses and other stuff you didn't pay attention to as you slid down his above-average shaft. When you finally consumed him whole and were adjusting to his size, he whined more. 

“Ohhh, please!”

You felt a sudden wave of hunger and tugged his hair on the back of his head, making him gasp and open his mouth. 

“Shut up, Josh!” You closed the distance between your faces and kissed him aggressively, though passionately, shoving your tongue in his mouth. And you both moaned sweetly, finally getting what you both craved. You started rolling your hips, slowly teasing both of you. Scud whispered between kisses. 

“You feel so good, baby,” and at this moment you knew you were damn lost, tugging his hair more than before and riding him in a fast rhythm. 

Panting, moans, whimpers, groans, skin slapping, and lips smacking were making an obscene symphony filling the space of the warehouse. You rode him furiously as if you were a nymphomaniac chasing your high, enjoying every moment. 

Scud was even more lost in pleasure. Totally fucked out, falling apart, his eyes half closed, his mouth babbling sweet nothings. The image was so beautiful, it almost looked like a piece of art. 

“You are using me so well. Want my cock to belong only to you, mistress. Want you to ride me forever.” You clenched around him involuntarily, earning moans from both of you. 

“Mistress, huh?” You smirked deviously and leaned to his ear, saying in a lower and silent voice. “And you are nothing more than a fuck toy.”

“Fuck!” He panted and rolled his head back, his eyes threatening to close. You grabbed his choker, pulling him closer to your face, and took a handful of his hair again while riding him. 

“Eyes on me!” he ignored as he was in a haze, obviously enjoying every second of the intimacy. “EYES.ON.ME.” You slowed your movements until he opened his eyes, drunk with sex. 

“Fuck!” You whimpered, feeling your pussy clenching as this view made you closer to your approaching orgasm. Just a couple of frictions, and you are done. You whispered, lips inching from his mouth. 

“Wanna cum inside? I’m on pills.” You exhaled deeply and choked on your pleasure, riding yourself slowly through your orgasm, and this was the last straw for him.

“Ah, fuck!” He groaned, moaning, his eyes rolling back, his body jolting. You felt him pulsing inside you, spilling his warmth. Scud’s panting, mixed with cries of satisfaction, echoed in the building. 

After some moments, he tiredly looked at you, and you placed a gentle and slow kiss on his lips, which he eagerly reciprocated. You leaned back after a while and said silently. 

“Hope you liked it.” You smirked a little and took scissors from the table to free his tied hands, earning a tight hug from him and hungry kisses mixed with moans. Then he pulled away a bit to admire your face.

“Me? Liked it?” He chuckled tiredly. “Gonna send you more voice messages from now on.”

“Dork.” You tried to stand up from him but were tugged back to him, earning a gasp from you and a confused look.

“Now your personal dork, mistress. You own me,” he smirked. You smirked too and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, letting yourself get lost in him. 

popping on to say i want money so if anyone is interested i’ll write a short personal/requested 500-1000 word rick or daryl drabble/fic for like a $5 tip 🫣

Daryl Dixion x f!Reader Nsfw: Fingers in your Mouth

Warnings/Mentions: Oral, Daryl gets you off with his boot, gagging, throat fucking, he forces your mouth open

Summary: Your attitude and snarky remarks earns you a red face and watery eyes after Daryl accepts your challenge.

Notes: I love rough Daryl I love rough Daryl

Your attitude was going to get you killed, or worse. Or better. 

Yeah, this was a lot better. 

You weren't really a ‘brat’ per se, but there were times when people were acting so dramatic and over the top that it drove you to catching an attitude. 

Like back at the farm where Shane, Lori and Rick were having their melodramatic soap opera. You called them out on it, and got a lot of shitty looks. 

Or when Daryl would get overly grumpy and start pulling away from everyone. You called him out on that too. What you didn't know was that he was looking for a reason to go off, and you calling him a cliche lone wolf that needed to get laid was the perfect reason. 

“Need to get laid, huh? S'that what you think?” He laughed in your face, throwing his hands up for emphasis. 

You mocked him, tossing your arm like you were throwing a basketball in a hoop. “Nah, I know it. I know your type. Sleezy redneck who'd fuck any bitch that would give him the honor. Shit ain't so easy out here, and that's why you're treating me like a goddamn mosquito buzzin’ all up in your face.”

He watched you, his eyes following your hands as if he expected you to pull out a gun and start waving it around. He hung his crossbow over his shoulder and folded his arms as you spoke, nodding like he was actually paying attention.

“Ya' done?”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Go get your dick sucked. Better yet, go fuck that redhead that lives across the street.” You referred to the Alexandrian resident, the one who had been drooling over Rick, Daryl, and Abraham the day you all arrived. 

“I got a better idea.” 

He snickered at that, and started unbuckling his belt.

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head, your hands immediately going to rest on your hips. “What? Gonna go on a week-long hunting trip and come back even more of an asshole? Speak to the trees?”

Your eyes widened. 

“Woah, dude.” The laugh that came from your mouth was dry and anxious. You held your hands in front of you, palms out in surrender. “Wasn't serious.”

“Nah, I think you were.” He slipped the leather through the buckle, and began walking towards you. “Melissa's at home. Don't feel like walkin’ all that much for a shitty blow job from that dumb bitch.”

“So you'll walk three feet for a shitty blow job from a not dumb bitch?” You swallowed hard, glancing over your shoulder at the outer walls behind you.

Maybe you shouldn't have followed Daryl out of Alexandria to bitch at him for leaving the shower a muddy mess. 

Now he was in front of you, working on the button of his jeans. 

You didn't want to seem like some desperate whore, but fuck, it had been a real long time for you too. Last time you saw a dick was when you caught Merle pissing on the side of the prison while you were on watchtower duty. That was... what, seven months ago? You had no fucking idea. 

“C'mon then. Make me feel better.” His voice was low then, the same tone he'd use when challenging someone. Daring someone. 

You shifted your feet, watching as he didn't go any further than unzipping his jeans. 

Oh.

Your heart sped up when you came to the realization that he was fucking with you, he didn't actually expect you to suck his dick. He was trying to make you uncomfortable, get you off his back so he could go back to brooding in the woods. 

Your lips spread into a smile, and you took one last glance over your shoulder before bending your knees and kneeling in front of him. 

You grabbed onto the hem of his boxers and pulled them down, watching as his dick, semi hard, rolled out. 

Above you he grunted, obviously taken aback by your actions. He was stiff, almost paralyzed in shock as you grabbed onto his dick and gave him a few long strokes. 

You looked up at him, a shit eating grin on your lips. “Look at that.” His dick was already hard as a rock. All it took was a few lazy strokes. “Didn't think you'd be so easy.”

You wiped the grin from his face the second you got your tongue on him. He choked on his own breath, grabbing your hair as he fought to keep standing. 

Finally he reacted, his eyebrows raising and a grin of disbelief on his face. You knew what he was thinking. ‘Says you’. Says the one about to suck his dick five seconds after he jokingly told you to. 

When you started taking his dick in your mouth, he lost the fight. He pulled away and walked a few steps backwards until he bumped into a tree, and only then did he finally slump towards the ground. 

He raised a shaky hand and beckoned you forward with a curled finger. 

Your heart leapt up into your throat and you had to force yourself to walk forward calmly, and not trip over the numerous branches and twigs littering the forest floor. 

It was hard to act calm seeing Daryl slumped against the base of a tree with his cock out. And he had this look on his face, rather, his eyes. Slightly narrowed with his head tilted back, watching you through his lashes as you approached him. 

They were the sexiest bedroom eyes you'd seen in your entire life. 

You crouched in front of him between his spread knees and reached out to grab his cock again. All the confidence you had a few moments earlier was completely gone, drained from your body the second he looked at you with that darkened expression. 

His knee jerked ever so slightly when you hunched over to take him in your mouth. It was cute, the way he was so responsive to you. If you weren't so turned on (and intimidated) you'd find it endearing. 

You did your best to make him squirm and moan, sucking the tip of his dick with as much pressure as you could manage, swirling your tongue around the head, using your other hand to massage his balls, and it worked.

Confidence was slowly building back up inside you the more you heard him sigh and gasp. That was until you saw his right leg slide up, and felt the tip of his boot between your thighs. 

You gasped through your nose, your jaw quivering around him. 

“Easy, hmm?” He breathed, a hand reaching down to push your hair from his face. The boot thing was unintentional, just an accident. But now that he'd seen you react to it, it was his top priority before cumming down your throat. 

Making you squirm and moan.

You tried to clench your thighs shut, maybe slide down onto your stomach, but that was foolish. A stupid idea. He was wearing steel toed boots and he simply nudged your knees apart, the tip once again sliding against your jean covered cunt. 

The moan that vibrated around his length was filthy, you couldn't help it. You also couldn't help pushing your hips down, and the second moan that came after the feeling of pressure against your clit. 

Suddenly, his boot applied a little too much pressure. You gasped through your nose again, and without even meaning to, grazed your teeth along the head of his dick. 

He cursed, his body jerking up and his hands balling up fistfuls of your hair. 

You popped your mouth off of him, shooting him a glare. “I didn't mean to. You were being too rough.”

“Don't, don't fuckin’ do that.” He hissed, using the grip he had on your hair to give you a rough yank. His version of punishment. 

His eyebrows raised, and his thumb gathered the bit of drool you had on your bottom lip. “You never stop bitchin’, even with a dick in your mouth.”

You scoffed, and did something you shouldn't have. 

You lowered your head back down, and grazed your teeth along his shaft, pulling your lips back in a playful sneer.

He didn't like that, and he sat up straighter. 

His thumb went from your bottom lip to your mouth, shoving all the way back to your molars. He shifted it sideways and slanted, forcing your mouth to stay open, and slipped his dick back in your mouth. 

With his other hand he tightened his grip on your hair and began moving your entire head up and down his length.

You wanted to pull off of him, call him a fucking asshole and tell him to jerk himself off, but his boot was rubbing against you again and much more gently than before. 

The grip he had on your hair wasn't something you could get out of, even if you really wanted to. 

He was considerate at first, moving your head slow and not too low. Just enough to tease the back of your tongue. You'd gotten used to it, finding ways to make it more comfortable, even with his fingers prying your mouth open. 

Just as you'd worked up a routine, he snatched it away from you with a thrust of his pelvis. His tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged, your hands flying up to grab onto his hips to steady yourself. 

He allowed you a moment to breathe, and accept your fate, make any adjustments you might need to before he carried on.

“Like the sound of that.” He grunted, thrusting up and down your throat again. Spit dribbled out the sides of your mouth, bubbles bursting and tears forming in your eyes. “Lot better than your goddamn yappin'.”

You gagged again, feeling his dick slip dangerously deep down your throat. You inhaled deeply through your nose, trying to steady yourself, but his thrusts were relentless. 

“Wha’? Got nothin' to say? Not gonna bite me again? Go on, make my day.”

You weren't sure where this persona came from. It was extremely uncharacteristic of him, but truthfully, you didn't really know Daryl. And no one knew what he was like in bed. No one besides you, now. 

Maybe he was just on edge with all the drama happening in Alexandria. All the deaths and constant fighting. Maybe you were right and he did need his dick sucked, and maybe he already knew that. 

As if he thought you'd actually try to bite him again, he crammed in his index finger, sliding it beside his thumb to force your mouth open even wider. Your jaw ached, and so did your tongue, but there wasn't much you could do. You made your bed. 

The gagging got worse and more frequent the longer it went on. His grip on your hair was brutal, holding your head up in the air, hovering over his pelvis so he could fuck up into your mouth like it was his own fist, and not an actual human. The thought had your stomach flipping, and a muffled moan vibrated around his dick again. 

He groaned long and deep at the feeling. His boot snapped back to life, rubbing up and down against your jeans until your hips took over, grinding down on him to the point he didn't have to move it anymore. 

You were embarrassingly close already. It was mostly due to the fact that you were getting off on Daryl's fucking shoe, but also due to how rough and filthy he was being. 

You'd always thought he'd be the shy stoic kind of man when it came to sex, the same way he was normally. Not whatever sinful monster he was now. 

When you came, you gripped the belt loops of his pants and held on for dear life. Your orgasm was brutal, bulldozing out of your core and sending shockwaves up your torso, buzzing down to your sore clit. You groaned around his dick, grinding your hips down like an animal in heat, not even noticing the way Daryl had stopped moving completely. 

You took a moment to gasp, nearly choking on your spot, and once your shivers stopped, Daryl pulled your head back down, cramming his entire dick down your throat. 

You gagged around him, your throat spasming and clenching when you felt his cum dribble down it. You were both thankful you'd missed lunch, because that exact moment would've had the contents of your stomach on display all over his pants. 

The noises that came from his mouth made up for it. Good lord, they were beautiful. Breathy moans on the way up, and then a drawn out whine that caught in his throat, and he had to swallow hard, panting heavily before letting out that last trembling whimper. 

He drug his fingers out from between your teeth, leaving a thick drizzle of spit slapping against your chin and falling onto the crotch of his jeans. You practically yanked your head away from him, gasping for air and whimpering at the exhaustion shaking through your body. You were fucking shivering from the constant gagging, your abdomen having spasms of their own from fighting the urge to vomit bile. 

You'd never forget the sound of that. 

He looked almost guilty, looking at your poor face. Wet swollen lips, tears running down your red cheeks, your hair a complete mess and your mouth turned into an unintentional frown. 

“Shit.” He breathed, stuffing his dick back in his pants before taking a handkerchief from the pocket of his shirt to wipe your tears, and then the drool. “M'sorry, christ.”

“No, s’okay.” You slurred, your lips twitching into a lazy and satisfied grin. “Was hot. Really hot.”

“Yeah?” He raised his brows, his eyes narrowed in cautious hesitance. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, turning your head to the side as he wiped your jawline. 

He was silent as he took care of you, fixing your hair and offering you water. You could tell he still felt bad, which tugged at your heart. He'd done a complete one eighty after coming, it was sort of sweet. 

Your suggestion worked, that was for sure. 

You glanced down the end of the hall before looking at her, fighting away a smirk. You raised your hand, made a circle with your fingers and moved it towards your mouth in the unmistakable ‘blowjob’ movement. 

He didn't sulk so much the next few days. He actually had dinner with you and the others, which wasn't unusual, but the way he contributed to small talk was. He stayed in Alexandria for a week straight, not even going out to hunt. He was satisfied sticking around and helping out within the walls. 

“What'd you do?” Maggie whispered, her hand still on your wrist from pulling you aside after seeing Daryl laugh. Like, a genuine Daryl laugh. 

Her eyes widened and a laugh burst from her lips. Then her smile faded. “You're serious?”

“Yes.”

The two of you erupted into giggles, and she punched your shoulder playfully. You had to pretend that it didn't hurt. Heavy handed farmer's daughter. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @iloverocks @jinx-nanami

Serial Killer!Rick Grimes x f!Reader Smut: Trophies

Warnings/Mentions: Murder, use of alcohol, Rough sex, choking, slapping, biting, hair pulling, spitting, overstimulation, Rick is a sadist in bed and gift giving is his love language, but also just likes to see you wearing belongings of people he's killed

Summary: Rick gets tired of putting his kill trophies in a box, so he puts them on you instead. Then you fuck.

Notes: I finally got around to finishing this yippee! There's 2 smut scenes, first is kind of short and tame, and the one at the end is a few pages long and contains the more aggressive parts. Somewhat proofread!!

There were many routines in your life, and the lives of the people around you. 

Rick was no exception. 

Any time he'd leave the prison he'd go through the checklist in his mind; revolver, ammunition, his machete, water and a little bit of food. 

And his cassette player, with that single tape. 

Every note of the unnamed female's voice was engraved deep into his brain. He knew every hum and breath, every strum of her gentle fingers across her guitar. 

It was just some tape he'd found. Didn't have a sentimental meaning to it from life before, wasn't some artist he was a fan of. He found it in that old rundown music store the two of you spent a night in back in Atlanta, and he took it. 

You'd seen him with it plenty of times but you'd never actually seen him listen to it. You never gave it a second thought until you were on a run together, driving in silence down the long winding back roads.

You asked if he wanted to play his tape on the car stereo, and his friendly calm demeanor was instantly replaced with that look you'd only seen very few times. 

“No.” The look on his face was enough to change your entire mood for the day. 

His later attempts at cheering you up were only met with feigned smiles and laughter, something he was quick to pick up on. 

“Why don't we go see that river you told me about, long time ago.” He looked over at you in the passenger seat, giving you that trademark Rick Grimes smile. 

“Oh, if it's not out of the way, yeah.” You shrugged. It was clear you were still feeling unnerved by the ice thrown in your direction for seemingly no reason.

“If there's as many fish as you said there were, then it don't matter.” 

“Okay, yeah, should be fun.”

Rick grinned when he could sense your attitude reaching a more positive level. “Alright. River first thing in the morning. Know of any place around here we can camp out for the night?”

“There's some old camping grounds a few miles up from the entrance point to the river. They used to set up tents near this fishing shed, tents are probably gone but the shed won't be. There's a few larger cabins up the same road but I have a feeling they're probably occupied. Was a real nice place.”

Rick nodded and continued driving. 

He said, come wander, with me, love

Rick closed his eyes as he sat in the front room in the largest cabin. If his timing was right, they should be walking up the steps now. 

Now at the door. Now opening the door. Now walking in. Now they saw him. 

It was careless, what he was doing. Careless. You were asleep down the road in that little fishing shed, you could wake up at any minute and find the bedroll next to you cold and empty. Get worried, wait a few minutes, then get out your gun and come looking for him. It was stupid. 

He just couldn't help himself. It'd been so long. 

He opened his eyes.

One woman, three men. The first man was scrawny, easy. Rick could take him out with little to no effort. The woman was a bit chubby, but very short. She looked horrified already, she'd be easy too. 

The other two men would be a bit of a challenge. Tall and well built.

Their mouths moved as they stared at the strange man sitting in their house. He could make out a few ‘what’s but that was about it. 

He caught them off guard by walking right up to them. 

First big man caught a knife to the head. The other pulled his gun and shot, barely missing Rick's shoulder. 

Rick yanked the knife free and grabbed a wrist, pinning it against the front door, smashing over and over against the wood until his grip spasmed, and the gun fell with a clatter. 

The woman was pulling at him like a sick dog. He reared back and elbowed her in the face, breaking her nose and knocking her unconscious. She fell to the floor with a thud, and the scrawny man dropped to check on her. 

Rick turned back to the man he had pinned against the wall. He was angry, cursing, little white bubbles of foamy spit spraying from his lips. A trembling hand reached up, desperate to poke an eye or anything that could potentially stun Rick, only succeeding in ripping out the buds in the older man's ears.

He set his jaw as his heart began to race. Now it would get sloppy. 

Rick reared back, and slammed his head forward so hard he felt the bridge of his nose instantly crack against his forehead. Blood spewed from his nose down his face, spraying Rick in the process. 

The man reeled before collapsing. The hard part was over. The easier ones were more of a chore.

Rick stood back and admired his work. 

The woman had a plastic bag over her head, but it was still obvious she'd been bludgeoned. Poor thing, didn't even wake up before she'd been so brutally slaughtered. 

The scrawny man had his neck snapped. It was by complete accident, Rick didn't expect him to be so… fragile. He laid in the living room next to the woman and the first man he'd stabbed. 

Rick looked down at the dog tags in his hand. They were fake, he could tell that much. Ordered at some flea market from cheap metal. The back had worn away to copper.

He balled up the rest of his rope and stuffed it in his duffle bag before finally leaving, the pleads and begging falling on deaf ears.

It took their people three days to find them.

“You, that's the man that killed Javier. I saw you leaving the same night we found him.” 

That didn't alarm you. You knew Rick had killed people before. The words that followed soon after were a different story.

It was the third day of your scavenging run. The first day you spent on the road looking for a spot. The second day you spent on the river, mostly fishing and picking out places on a crinkled old map to go on the third day. 

You'd just woken up, eyes still foggy with sleep as you walked out of the fishing shed to see Rick standing in front of a small group of people.

“Your man was a threat to my people.” Rick used the barrel of his revolver as he spoke like some sort of pointer rod, making the three strangers flinch each time it aimed at one of them. 

“No. You tied him up like a skinned deer, was he still alive when you cut his stomach open?” Their leader's questioning was cut off with a quick gunshot to the head. 

You gasped, not expecting that, and brought your hand to cover your mouth. 

“No!” A blonde woman shrieked and fell to her knees beside her lover's limp body. She looked up to Rick then, venom in her spit as she spoke. “You're worse than the dead ones!”

Rick killed her just as well as the silent man behind her. Then it was just you and him, and now you were the mute.

You weren't thinking, really. Your eyes were still wide and burning from not blinking, staring into the pile of bodies that had been alive only seconds ago. 

“Hey, you alright?” His voice was back to normal and you blinked, seeing he was now knelt beside you with that familiar look of compassion. That was the Rick you knew, not that cold thing that used his body only minutes before. 

“Yeah, just, I wasn't expecting that.” You breathed. Your lips and fingers felt numb, despite it being a warm October day. 

Rick nodded, looking down at the dirt between his feet. He chewed on the inside of his cheek before speaking.

“I keep forgetting you're not as… seasoned as the rest of us.” 

No. That wasn't it.

You were no stranger to killing, but the people you killed were in self defense. 

What Rick just did was cold blooded murder. And the way he made it seem like the most normal thing a man could do had your chest feeling tight.

“I'm hungry.” It was all you could think to say. 

He snorted at that, taken aback by your words. “Hungry? Okay. You okay staying here for a few? I can go search that old country store down the road.”

You nodded, glancing at the bodies only a few feet away. He followed your gaze and squeezed your knee to redirect your attention back to him. 

“Keep your radio on. I'll just be a little while, okay?” He smiled when you nodded. “Don't use your gun unless you have to.”

You were thankful he drug the bodies away before he left. 

Come wander with me. 

Rick took a deep breath.

It had been two weeks, his self control was slowly slipping. He'd gone a year without killing once, when Carl was born. At the time it was easy. 

The old brown house, threatening to crumble at any moment from the massive amounts of dry rot and termites, was a perfect place to look for people out on their own. They loved staying in the inconspicuous hole in the walls, places that you would never notice unless you were desperate and terrified. 

He moved out of the shadows and dug his knife into the base of a skull. They died in his arms and he held them there, closing his eyes as the struggles grew weaker and weaker, until they finally stopped all at once.

He opened his heavy lids to see a woman screaming, her hands covering her mouth from the opposite side of the small living room.  The buds in his ears prevented him from hearing most of it. 

Rick let the lifeless body slide from his arms, and stood. He was quick as he walked towards her, grabbing her by her hair and letting out a disappointed ‘tsk’ at her state of shock. She could have easily escaped but she chose to stay there and wail.

He came from the sunset, he came from the sea.

Rick held her against his chest as she squirmed in his arms, pounding her fists against his chest, her movements futile, weak from starvation and dehydration. He closed his eyes again as he held her there, dragging his knife up the base of her spine. He could hear her screams now, they'd transformed from anger to terror, dry screeches as she pleaded for her life.

Rick found his thoughts drifting to you, and now it was your voice humming in his ears, replacing the unknown feminine voice he'd grown so accustomed to. 

You truly were a sight to behold. Even if it was just in his mind. 

A sharp kick to his knee snapped the image of you out of his mind, and sent him into a state of anger. He opened his eyes and gritted his teeth before yanking her head to the side, looking down at her soft tanned skin. 

A mother Mary coin sat at the base of her throat, dangling on a thin chain, only for a second before Rick gently took it off. 

She jerked against him as she realized she was bleeding, streams of warm blood gushing down her neck and chest. 

Her already weak movements became weaker as she bled out, only managing to give a last ditch attempt of escape when his knife was removed from her throat. Her jerking against him stilled, and he pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes glued to hers as he watched her blue eyes turn glossy.

Rick took the earbuds from his ears and put them in the back pocket of his jeans, along with the necklace. 

He wouldn't need to put his trophies in a box anymore.

You smiled in surprise as you looked at the jewelry in your open palm. 

“Do I seem the religious type?” You mused, running your finger over the gold oval. Mother Mary. You didn't expect Rick to think of you when seeing something like that. 

“No.” He hummed, a soft smile on his lips. He looked so sweet then, the orange reflections of the campfire dancing across his face. 

You wanted to question him, ask him where he found it and why he decided you were fit to wear it, but your lips closed when he moved to put it around your neck. 

He was gentle, gentle as he moved your hair over your shoulder, and gentle as he closed the clasp and brushed your hair back in its original position.

“Thanks Rick. It's really pretty.” Your fingers stroked the charm at your neck, the metal warm from being in his back pocket. You decided then you didn't care to know about the where or the why, the hows or why there was dried blood on the back of it. 

“Dinners ready. Go get Daryl and come eat.” He brushed your hair behind your ear and smiled. He was looking at you, but not really looking at you. 

“Okay.”

You managed to drag Daryl down from the watchtower for dinner without much complaining. But to your confusion, the group only stayed around the table for about ten minutes to chat, eat their roasted trout and canned asparagus, and then they left. Not one at a time either. 

When you finished the last few bites of your dinner, Rick took you into the warden's office, a nice secluded space with comfortable chairs and a pretty brown desk table.

You looked up from the table to see Rick walking back with a bottle of wine in hand, a sly smile on his face.

You raised a brow and smirked as he poured it into two plastic cups, setting yours in front of you before sitting down. 

“This what I think it is?” You teased, taking a sip of wine to cool your nerves. You were anxious as hell, although your calm and amused exterior didn't show it. 

Was Rick Grimes, leader of your group, seriously flirting with you? Beyond the usual innocent playfulness? 

“Depends on what you think it is. Date? Yes. Work conference? No.” He took a sip. 

“So, you just tell them all to stay away from here? They know?” You suddenly blushed at the idea of the group knowing Rick was sweet on you. It felt like dating the cool kid in school all over again. 

“Well, not exactly that, but yeah, they know.” He looked at you then in a way that made you nervous. It was the way he used to look at Lori. All soft eyed and smiles.

You barely knew him, like really knew him, you hung around Carol, Carl and Glenn more than anyone else, it just felt too out of place for you to hang out with Rick or Daryl. That role was better suited for Maggie or Michonne. 

When he had asked you to go out on that run a few days ago with him, just him, you were stunned. And now here he was, serving you dinner and fancy wine like you were his wife. 

“Why? I mean, why me?” 

He furrowed his brows and looked at you thoughtfully, as if he didn't quite know the answer himself. He took another sip of wine before answering. 

“I don't know why. I just know I like you.” 

You grinned a bit at that. “You like me, huh? It's cause of my Kardashian looks isn't it?”

Rick laughed and shook his head. “Kardashian looks huh? Yeah, sure.” 

The tension from your end quickly faded the more you talked. 

You couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of guilt the more Rick flirted with you. Lori had died not too long ago, and even though he seemed completely fine, you worried it was him finding unhealthy ways to cope. 

You didn't know he already had a lifelong coping mechanism, and you were another thing entirely. 

Murder was always common in the apocalypse. You'd seen more victims of humans than you could count. 

Moving into Alexandria though, it seemed like almost every time you went outside the walls you'd find a new dead body a few miles away, obviously done by a human and not the dead.

“Jesus.” Daryl muttered, using a stick to move a dead man's head to the side, showcasing the dramatic knife wound to his cheek. 

“They're getting closer to home.” You muttered, looking down at the body near your feet as Daryl poked at it. 

“Yeah.” He agreed. He dropped his stick and stood up, shaking his head. “Sorry sonvabitch that did this better hope he don't come any closer.” 

That night Rick gave you another piece of jewelry. A silver thumb ring, long but not visually remarkable. 

“This is actually really pretty.” You said as you slipped it on your thumb, opposite hand of the other ring Rick gave you in the past. 

“Yeah?” Rick grinned, looking over his shoulder as he took the dishes from dinner to his sink.

He'd invited you over for dinner. You appreciated it, it had been a while since you had time alone with the man. You'd begun to miss him and his daring flirtation. 

“Yeah, don't need to worry about it snagging on anything either. Can wear it when I go out.” Your fingers continued fidgeting with the ring, spinning it around your thumb as you watched him clean up. 

He dried his hands and walked over to you, offering out a hand, an act that made your stomach do flips. “I'm glad you like it.”

You took his hand, warm, his fingers so large and thick they made yours look like they belonged to a pianist in comparison. 

He led you from your seat at the dining room table to his living room, leaving you on the couch while he went to dig through a basket.

You watched him from your spot on the couch as he put a DVD in the player under the living room tv. You wondered then, would they be gone all night? Carl, Michonne, Daryl? Did he tell them to find somewhere else to sleep for the night? 

You blushed wildly at the idea of everyone in Alexandria knowing Rick was trying to have sex with you. 

“How long will they be gone?” You blurted.

Rick turned to you after turning on the TV, a brow raised. “Couple hours. Why?” 

“Well, if it's gonna be a sleepover I gotta get my stuff.” You laughed nervously, cursing yourself for sounding so awkward and timid. 

“I didn't plan on it, but,” he groaned dramatically as he plopped down onto the cushy couch next to you, “-the idea is tempting.” 

You realized you were wrong in your assumption that he was trying to get laid. Fuck. That was embarrassing.

He seemed open to it though, right? Or were you just so touch deprived that you were fooling yourself into reading him the wrong way?

You watched the first Twilight movie and laughed most of the time, but you caught Rick watching intently at the baseball scene. 

“I'm so pissed the outbreak had to happen when it did. We were two months away from the sequel. Two months! That means they finished it and it's on some hard drive somewhere, never to be seen.”

Rick smiled at your complaining, that same look of strange admiration on your face. 

You still didn't know how to react to it, on one hand, it was extremely flattering and you were starting to get turned on, but on the second hand it rationally was a little off-putting. Maybe he really did just have a thing for you, maybe it was just as simple as that. 

His gaze should've made you blush and swoon, and it definitely did, but… there was something about it that set your teeth on edge. Far too intimidating.

“Maybe we'll find it one day.”

“That would be the day we have a real slumber party. Popcorn, sodas, everything.”

“Yeah? Gonna braid each other's hair too?” He teased.

You scoffed and playfully punched his shoulder. The man didn't even budge, like he was made of stone. “Can you braid?”

“Damn good at it.”

You gaped at him in amused disbelief. “No shot!” 

“C'mere.” Rick's knees spread and he tapped his shoe on the floor between his feet. 

You gulped some wine before quickly shrugging, and got on the floor, your feet tucked neatly under your butt. 

His hands felt illegally good. He brushed your hair over your shoulders and ran his fingers through it, from your roots down to the ends. Each time his fingertips ran down your scalp you were given a fresh wave of goosebumps, and when they brushed against the back of your neck you visibly shivered. 

Rick wasn't lying. He managed to give you a beautiful braid, working with what was given to make something you'd be happy to wear on a fancy date. You ran your fingers over the braid and scoffed in shock. 

“It's so pretty.” You admired the way the necklace he had given you back at the prison was on full view, no longer hidden or covered by your hair. It sat right at your collarbone, and the neckline of your black and red dress framed it perfectly.

When Rick said ‘wear something nice’ for dinner you immediately panicked and went to Rosita. She picked out a beautiful dress for you, it was classy but not over the top, pretty to look at but also comfortable to lay around in. 

You looked at him in the mirror in front of you. He was looking at you again, but different this time. 

Less wholesome admiration, more… desire. He had little readable expression but the bit you could read had your lower stomach flipping with excitement. 

You turned to face him and took a second to appreciate the way the black button up shirt hugged his muscles just so slightly. It wasn't the cover of some smutty werewolf or vampire novel, but fuck, it had your knees feeling weak. 

“Told you.” 

It took you a moment to process what he meant, but when you did, you smiled and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you did. Where'd you learn to braid like this?”

“Same place they taught me how to pick up women.” He winked. You both laughed. 

You ended up back on the couch with a different movie put in. Neither of you were paying any attention to it though, your focus slowly shifting to each other.

“Think they'll be back soon?” You had the courage to flirt all of a sudden. 

Maybe it was the wine that had loosened you up, or maybe it was the fact he looked so hot in that shirt and smelled like sandalwood and jasmine. 

“Hm, maybe.” He flirted back, an edge of tauntful tease to his voice. “Why?”

“Well, usually after a date goes this well…” You trailed off and wiggled your eyebrows. Your boldness surprised the both of you, and he couldn't help but chuckle. 

“Yeah? What's that?” He hummed, his smile slowly fading when he looked from your eyes to your lips. 

“Girl shows the guy a good time.”

“That right?” He leaned in, and you could smell his cologne stronger than before. You closed your eyes and bit back a sigh. 

“Maybe, I don't know. Never been on a date this good.” You leaned in, mirroring his movements, looking down to his lips. 

“How about the guy shows the girl a good time, huh? How about that?” His voice was breathy then, warm and smelling like expensive wine. 

You nodded and he smiled, breaking past the last few inches to kiss you. 

He was so soft. His hands cupped your cheeks with a featherlight caress, and his lips were equally as gentle. He moved them against yours, his tongue slipping out to trace along your wine stained lips. You parted your lips and moaned at the feeling of his tongue in your mouth. 

Rick guided you on your back, just as gentle as every man you'd seen on all those romance movies you pretended to cringe at. His hand under the small of your back had a wave of wetness seeping out of you, you had underestimated how truly touch starved you were. 

It wasn't long before he had led you up to his bedroom. You were astonished at how neat everything was. Bed was made, sheets looked fresh out of the wash. 

He had his revolver laid out on his dresser along with a few other melee weapons, his machete, axe, and a long dagger. Everything was perfectly organized. 

And there, in the duffel bag peeking out from under his bed, sat his cassette player. 

Once the door was closed behind him he wasted no time in undressing you, popping open the buttons on the back of your dress. He moved slow and meticulously, brushing the sleeves off your shoulders to plant a few kisses on the warm skin there. 

You sighed at his touch and pressed your back against his chest, aching to feel him envelop you in his warmth. 

He took his hands away from your sides to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt but you turned and placed your hand on top of his. He looked at you curiously and you returned a sheepish smile. 

“You look really good in these clothes.” 

He grinned when he realized your intentions and he left his shirt buttoned, save for the three at the top. 

Rick looked unbelievably sexy then, a few golden curls of chest hair visible from the slit in his shirt, his hair slightly ruffled from your hands, and a face so blown with lust that you could touch yourself to it for more than one orgasm. 

Then he had you on his bed sprawled out for him, your arms lying above your head as you watched him unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. When he pulled the zipper down, and pulled his cock out, you literally whimpered at the sight. It was beautiful, like the picture perfect example of a male penis. Perfect girth, perfect length, even the mess of brown and blonde pubes were stunning. 

You could go on forever about Rick Grimes’ dick. 

He gave a smug smirk as he moved to take his place over you, pulling down your dress the rest of the way and immediately planting his smug little face between your legs. 

You gasped and threw your head back against the mattress. He nuzzled your clothed clit with his nose, inhaling your scent and sneakily stroking his dick with his right hand. With the other he held onto your left thigh, fingers digging into the skin there.

He took his time working you up, licking and sucking and even once nipping your clit through the fabric of your panties. 

You were a whimpering mess by the time he pulled his head away and went to take your panties off. 

He stopped your hand and you looked up at him, brows furrowed. 

“These look really good on you.” He smirked. 

Your head fell back into the mattress when he pulled your panties to the side. Thank GOD you took the cute panties Rosita offered you. If you were wearing one of your practical sets of underwear you would've died from embarrassment.

He rubbed his finger through your folds, gathering your slick to rub across your clit. You let out a pathetic whine and grabbed fistfuls of cotton sheets beside your head. 

He took his time. He slipped in his middle finger up to the knuckle, curling it painfully slowly. Bless Lori, or whoever the fuck taught him that. You were definitely coming tonight. 

“Rick, ah, mmm, god.” A hot puff of air from your lips blew a stray lock of hair from your face, a result from your braid having become messy. 

He tsked once and drew his finger back, wiping the wetness off on the head of his cock. 

You were basically on the edge of your seat at this point, leaning up on your elbows to watch every move he made. 

He ran his hands over your torso, ignoring your breasts which made you whine in disappointment. 

His eyes flicked up to you, and you were filled with an unexplainable sense of anxiety. Like there was something in you, dating way back to when you needed instincts to survive. Your instincts were telling you that you needed to leave, now. You were in danger. 

Every hair on your arms, thighs, the back of your neck, they all prickled. Your upper lip twitched, as if it wanted to pull back and show him your teeth.

“You just tell me to stop, and I will, okay?” His voice was low. 

Your blood ran cold.

“What?” You whispered, your bottom lip trembled, and you found breathing became a difficult task. 

He repeated himself, his voice still just as low, that same dangerous look on his face. He moved quickly. 

He was inside you before you had time to adjust, his hand covering your mouth to muffle the pained noises you made. He groaned into your neck and buried himself deeper inside you, his dick twitching as your walls spasmed around him. He pulled out slowly, savoring the tight drag of your hot cunt, before plunging back in. 

Rick was rough, rougher than you could have ever predicted. It was so strange, earlier he was so soft and gentle. He fucked you hard and rough like that for a few long minutes before flipping you over on your stomach. 

His hands were on your hips. His fingers digging painfully into your soft skin. He used his upper body weight to render your lower half helpless beneath his open palms. 

He groaned as he watched his dick disappear back into you, his eyebrows knitted tightly together and his mouth hanging open. 

“Je-jesus christ.” Your moan was strangled in your throat as his hands closed around your neck. 

You didn't have time to take a preparation breath, he squeezed quick and hard, immediately cutting off all blood and air flow to your brain. You tried to pry his fingers away and off of you but he didn't relent, only squeezing harder. 

Your vision blurred and your head swam with thick panic, you dug your fingernails into the back of his hand until his grip loosened.

The lungful of air you sucked in felt fresher than any breath you'd ever taken. You didn't have long before his fist was in your hair, yanking your head to the side to stuff your discarded panties into your mouth. 

You whimpered in protest but he just shoved your face into his pillows and plowed deeper into you. 

It wasn’t quick at all, quite the opposite. 

He fucked you like that for what felt like hours. It was realistically maybe twenty minutes, but that was still a long time to get fucked. 

Your body trembled underneath him from the exhaustion of back to back orgasms. He had already came inside you once, and you felt a small sense of relief, but he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. He just moaned into your neck and continued battering your insides.

You were spent. Every part of your body ached, your pussy felt raw and your clit throbbed painfully. Your stomach and chest chafed against his comforter, and right before it got too much he flipped you over.

Rick looked down at you like you were a painting he finally finished after months of perfecting.

He slid his warm rough hands over your chest, pinching your sore nipples, squeezing your red breasts. 

His eyes found your necklace and he rolled his hips, earning a muffled whine in response. Then they found the ring on your middle finger, and rolled into you again. The thumb ring on your other hand. Your body shivered when he slammed his pelvis forward.

You couldn’t respond in any way, you pulled your panties from your dry mouth and panted, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

He changed completely after he finished. He peppered kisses all over you, sweet and soft against your cheeks, down your neck and chest, tender and soft on your nipples. 

He took care of you after, he cleaned you with a cool rag and brought you one of his white t shirts to change into. He silently asked you to stay the night with more gentle kisses after you attempted to leave.

You shouldn't have been snooping, you knew it was wrong.

The song felt chilling after what you’d witnessed throughout your time in knowing him, and the night you'd shared. 

You sat at the foot of his bed and listened, unaware of the way your fingers had begun to twitch around the tape player. 

Something about it felt wrong, like you were listening to Gloomy Sunday after hearing the legend surrounding it as a child again. Your heart raced as the song finished and you put the cassette player back where you found it, in his duffle bag at the foot of his bed. 

You made it down the stairs before you rounded the corner and smacked right into a large chest. 

“Jesus woman.” 

You let out a breath when you saw it was Daryl. Covered in dirt and smelling like cigarettes and gasoline, a familiar sight that sets you at ease. 

“Shit, sorry.”

He'd been slightly annoyed at the way you startled him, but something had caught his eye and his irritation faded. 

“Y'alright?” He grunted, looking at you with a raised brow. 

“Yeah, I'm okay.” You nodded. He eyed you suspiciously before leaving without a goodbye, heading up the stairs to Rick's room. 

“He's not here.” 

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look down at you. “Where's he at then?”

“I don't know.”

You found out the reason for his staring when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror. You'd need to wear turtlenecks for the next few days. 

Rick was thrown off his game without his music. He was more aggressive, sloppy, and hateful in the way he killed. 

“Please!” His voice sounded pathetic. It made Rick curl his top lip in disgust as he watched him squirm against his restraints, the bodies of his loved ones littering the ground next to him. 

“Don't leave me here.” He begged as the chill of night crept through the thick trees they found themselves in. It carried the smell of rain, rotten leaves and cigarette butts. 

“Give me one good reason.” Rick held his bloodied machete as he observed the man. 

Young, maybe early twenties. Black hair, a black ‘beard’, which was too patchy to really qualify as one, and an orange sweater. The sweater had been mostly stained a reddish brown from his blood, and the blood of his friends, which all had the mercy of a better fate than what awaited him.

His body sagged as he twisted against the pine, his wrists burning and bruising from the frayed rope. 

“I'm a good man. Never done anything wrong. Never killed, never raped anyone-”

“Aw, well, ain't that nice of you?” Rick sneered, slipping the machete in the back of his belt. “How gracious.”

“I got a dog, man, please.”

Rick chewed on the inside of his cheek before taking his machete back out again. 

The man erupted into more begging and crying as Rick approached him. He let out a short lived scream before looking down to see his hands were now freed and in front of him. 

“Wh-”

“Ten seconds.” Rick's revolver felt firm in his grip. “Ten,”

The man stood stunned for a moment, holding his aching wrists, his eyes darting from Rick to the bodies at their feet. 

“Nine.” Rick's voice was louder then, like a father giving his child one last warning to start acting straight. 

“Eight!” 

The man took off through the woods, and there was no reason to count any longer. 

You ran your fingers over the cold metal in your hands. It was stunning, something you never would've dreamed of holding before the outbreak. A gold chain, thin but strong. Not dainty enough that it could be broken off with a snag.

Small red beads dangled from the chain, twelve rubies spread out along the length. They looked like little drops of wine.

“Where did you get this?”

It was the first time you'd asked him a question before thanking him for his gifts. 

He silently took the bracelet from your hands and clasped it around your wrist, his fingertips ghosting over the veins of your arms.

“In a jewelry box. That neighborhood I stopped at last week.”

You watched his fingers part from your wrist and the dangling rubies sway. You knew it was a lie. 

“You ever get stuff like this for anyone else?” 

He chuckled and leaned back on the couch, his eyes never leaving your form. “No.”

You looked over your shoulder at him and sighed, unable to keep the smirk from spreading on your face when you saw the way he was looking at you. “You know, I really like sweets too.” 

He raised a brow and broke into a grin. “Sweets, of course,right. What, chocolates? Candy?”

“Mhmm. Dark chocolate with sea salt. Or, chocolate with raspberries.” Your mouth watered as you recalled the old luxuries you'd once taken for granted. 

“Alright. Noted.” 

Being alone with Rick in his house was something that should've scared you. Especially considering what you'd seen in the past, and the darker side of him in bed. 

But looking at him in his form fitting white tee-shirt, the fireplace covering him in a warm orange glow, your degenerate lust filled brain made none of that matter. 

“C'mere.” His hand beckoned you to him from its spot on the back of the couch. 

You hesitated for appearances, not wanting to come off too eager, before eventually giving in and leaning back. 

His arm slipped from the couch above you and wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace. 

You rested your cheek on his chest and inhaled the smell of his cologne. It was deep and dark, you recognized it as his bottle of  “Leather and Embers”, whatever the hell that meant. As you savored the smell he pressed his face into your scalp and soaked in your smells, rose and eucalyptus shampoo, wisteria lotion. It was so light and feminine and so utterly you that just the smell made his dick twitch in his jeans. 

“Gonna go on a supply run with a few others tomorrow. Need some ammo. You wanna join me?”

“Depends.” You pretended to think about it for a second, a playful smirk on your lips. “Who’s all going?”

Rick hummed and squinted, playing along with your thoughtful act. “Me, Carol, Aaron, Glenn, Maggie. Daryl might come, hasn’t decided yet.” You snorted at the idea of Daryl ever turning down work. 

“All of us gonna fit in that itty-bitty car?”

“Taking separate cars. Cover more area that way.” His hand gave your shoulder a slight squeeze and you looked up to see him leaning in for a kiss. You met him halfway and smiled against his lips as his other arm wrapped around you.

You grinned, full of pride, as you walked through the gap between two small houses to find Rick, holding two ammunition boxes. One was half full of buckshot shells, the other completely full of 9mm ammo.

He started searching the first house on the block, so he should be at the third right about-

You froze in the doorway as you took in the scene in front of you. 

You could see the back of Rick standing in the center of the dining room, the bodies of one man and two women laid across the long table in front of him. 

He was taking earbuds out from his ears and putting them into his back pocket, his hands so covered in blood that his fingers seemed to melt together. 

You must've made a noise because he turned around. 

What was once a look of serenity instantly turned like the tides of an ocean. His eyes no longer resembled a warm blue sky, instead a clash of dark and stormy gray.  

His lips moved in the form of your name, but you didn't react. 

You looked from body to body, taking in the gruesome ways they'd been killed. One woman had her throat slit with so much force that you could see bone. 

Another had countless stab wounds in her chest and a few on her neck. It looked angry, and much more violent than anything you'd ever been unfortunate enough to see.

 The man had been gutted, his organs sloshing out of him to lay between his body and what you assumed to be the body of his wife.

Your body didn't react when his hands grabbed your shoulders. You didn't even notice that he'd approached you, his hands raised, his knees slightly bent to make himself appear smaller, less of a threat.

When he turned you around to lead you out of the house you caught a glimpse of three chocolate bars in a plastic bag sitting at the front door. 

“I need you to look at me.”

You blinked and took in your new surroundings. You were sitting on the hood of your car, his bloodied hands on your knees. The contrast of deep red against your skin had a groan catching in your throat. 

Rick's voice snapped your name and you looked to his face. He looked prepared, as if he'd imagined this scenario countless times before. 

“What you just saw-”

“I know.”

“No, you don't. I had to, I-”

“Rick.” The coldness of your voice had him forgetting the way he'd been frustrated at you for interrupting him again. “You don't lie to me. Not me.” 

His face softened, but he felt an uncomfortable tightening in his throat and chest. He nodded, his eyes falling away from yours to look at your knees. 

When he saw the blood he drew his hands away as if he'd been stung. 

“You killed them and you liked it.”

As quick as a snake his hand shot out and grabbed the base of your throat. His eyes were back on yours now, freezing you with a cold stare. “It’d be in your best interest to forget what you saw here.” 

Your body didn't react the way either of you expected it to. You grabbed at his wrist and let out a whimper, your thighs clenching together so hard they trembled. 

His grip loosened as he saw your form tremble under him, not from fear, but arousal. He furrowed his brows and looked back to your eyes, studying each and every flicker in them. 

It was an unsteady standoff, neither of you knowing which move to make next. He experimented and tightened his hand again, earning another whimper from your lips. 

He took it a step further and with his other bloodied hand, he slipped his fingers between your knees, gently spreading them apart. 

With your thighs spread he filled the gap with his waist. He hooked two fingers in the belt loops of your shorts and tugged you down the hood closer to him, your pelvis bumping against the semi he had growing in his jeans. 

Rick groaned at the contact and leaned in to plant his face in the crook of your neck, his hand departing from your throat to trail down your chest. He toyed with the gold coin of your necklace, rubbing his fingertips over the warm metal. 

“Rick-”

“No, shh-shh-shh, you were being so good.” He groaned, his jeans rubbing your thighs as he softly pushed against you.

“I just, a shower, let's wait-” 

He growled in your ear and squeezed your thighs so tightly you let out a yelp. “No, think I'll have you right here.” 

His words sent a shiver down your spine and before you could react, he pushed you flat on your back. 

You were finally there, your muscles relaxing and your eyes closing, ready to surrender to Rick and let him have his way. But as always, something had to go wrong. 

The gurgling sound of a walker snapped you from your daze. 

Rick pulled away from you and used the machete from his belt to take out the first two. 

“Rick!” You called in a nervous voice, your eyes locked on the group of walkers behind the car. 

“Shit. Alright, get in.” He cursed and opened the passenger door for you. You slid into the seat, pulling your knees back just in time to avoid the heavy metal door being slammed after you. 

Your eyes followed Rick round the front of the car. Then, as if he was playing some weird joke, he took his hand back from the door handle and ran back into the house.

“Fuck.” You whispered, watching three walkers follow him to the door. You had your hand on the car door handle, ready to jump out after him and help, but before you could dig out your knife he reappeared in the doorway.

You shook your head when he finally sat down beside you and started the car. 

He plopped the bag in your lap and you stared down at it. 

The three chocolate bars. 

“I know you said dark chocolate, salt and raspberries n’whatnot. But this is all I could find.” He said it like he was apologizing, like he was dissatisfied with his findings. 

“Rick, I haven't had chocolate in so long that it could be some nasty rainbow white chocolate with sprinkles and I'd love it. Fuck.” You unwrapped the first bar and snapped off a small square. 

As soon as it hit your tongue you moaned, completely forgetting the scene from earlier. It was your favorite type, something you hadn't had in God knows how long. 

Rick smiled fondly as you swirled the chocolate around your tongue, looking at you the same way he'd looked at you at dinner, the same way he used to look at Lori. 

You were blissfully unaware, your eyes closed as you savored the flavor.

He bit his bottom lip and looked back to the road ahead, slowing down as he passed the road that the others had gone down. 

He raised a hand out the open window to Glenn, who'd returned a thumbs up, going inside to gather the others to head back home.

“Want a bite?” 

You smiled sweetly as he looked back to you and the open Butterfinger that was in your left hand, your favorite chocolate in your right. 

“Indulging ourselves, are we?” He smirked playfully as he took the Butterfinger from you and took a heaping bite. It was so big he'd taken half the bar and you scoffed, smacking his shoulder. 

“Geeze! Talk about being indulgent!” You teased and snatched the chocolate back, finishing it off with three more bites. 

 You ate your sweets in silence, and soon it had turned from a comfortable silence to a thick cloud of tension when you pulled up to the gates of Alexandria.

He called your name and you forced yourself to look at him. 

Rick's expression was hard to gauge. 

It almost seemed like a mask, now that you'd seen what he was capable of doing, it felt like you were sitting beside a stranger. Your heart sped up, you were suddenly scared of saying or doing the wrong thing, sending him into aggression or something worse. 

“Yeah?” Your voice sounded foreign to you. Almost as foreign as the way Rick was looking at you. 

He waited a few painfully long moments before the essence of a smirk formed on his lips that were still speckled with blood. “I'm making dinner tonight. You should come.”

You blew out a lungful of air and nodded. “Okay, yeah, I will.”

“Wear somethin’ nice.” His voice was barely a whisper. You didn't have time to ask him to clarify before the gates opened and he drove you in. 

You felt a bit ridiculous in your dark blue dress. It was extremely snug, almost uncomfortable, ending right at your knees, drawing attention to the curve and dip of your hips and waist. There was no one else for dinner, thank god, because you felt seconds away from a panic attack.

Fettuccine noodles with Carol's homemade alfredo sauce. Despite your painful anxiety you wolfed the creamy noodles down, along with a heaping glass of dark red wine. 

It was painfully tense. You found yourself wondering how the car ride home had been completely fine, it hadn't been awkward at all, not until you pulled up to the gates. It might have been the adrenaline and shock. 

Now it had worn off and you were finishing your second glass of wine, praying for the buzz to kick in so you wouldn’t feel like you were on the verge of an anxiety attack anymore. 

“Can we talk?” His voice made you jump. You looked up from your empty plate to his face, which had been thoroughly cleaned of the blood from earlier.

You didn't respond verbally. You gave a small nod and he inhaled deeply, his eyes falling from your face to the table. 

After a moment he looked back up to you. 

“I need to know you won't… you won't tell anyone. Things are still pretty tense here, these people already see me as someone to watch out for. I don't need them fearing me.”

“Fear could be a good thing.” You don't know why you said it. 

He managed a slight smile, clasping his hands together in front of his chin. “Yeah. It can be. But not this type of fear.”

“So what are you? Jack the ripper of the apocalypse?”

Rick cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest, his fingers tapping on his biceps, covered in a thick black sweater. 

“Alright. Nevermind.” You sighed. You finished off your wine and scratched your chin absentmindedly, still looking at his face. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Long time.”

You managed to hide your shock, and nodded. “Before the outbreak?”

He nodded, his eyes not leaving the silverware crossed over his empty plate. 

He didn't look guilty or ashamed like one logically should be. A bit uncomfortable, uncertain, a hint of worry and dread. You knew he was praying this conversation would go well and he wouldn't have to do anything devastating to secure keeping his position in the group as the fearless, honorable leader. 

“Did Lori know?”

Now he looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “No.” Of course she wouldn't have, what a stupid question. 

“Okay.” It was quiet until you finally gained the courage to address the elephant in the room. “Rick, are any of us in danger?”

Your question caused a drastic change in his demeanor. He leaned forward with an expression that was a mix of hurt and assurance, and you already knew the answer. 

“No, of course not.” He breathed, his hands tentatively crossing the table. “I would never hurt any of you people. You're my family. All of you. Even those,” he waved a hand over his shoulder, “stuck up pricks Deanna led.”

You wanted to believe him. You had no choice, honestly, you had no other option. You knew Rick was a good leader, even if he made rash and emotional decisions. He always listened to the opinions and advice of others, he always took their says into account. If he hadn't done it this far, there was no reason to believe he'd start doing it now that you knew. 

You weren't justifying it by any means. What he did was vile, monstrous, egregious. Nothing would ever change that. It just wasn't the old world anymore, you had bigger problems to worry about, as ironic as it sounded. 

“Okay.” 

You closed your eyes as he rounded the table and put his hands on your shoulders. You wished you could just turn your brain off, wipe your memory and forget, and your stomach churned with nausea. Not at the memory or knowledge of his little weekend hobby, but at the realization that it didn't bother you as much as it should've.

“Can I make it up to you?” His breath warmed your ear as his palms slid up and down your biceps. 

God, you were sick. You were disgusting. 

“Yeah.”

Carl was home, and so were Carol, Michonne and Daryl, so you led him back to your house across the street. 

Your house was almost an exact mirror image of his, same porch, same paint, same layout and everything. In fact, your bedroom window was a straight shot across from his. 

You shivered, remembering the times you'd play with him through your window, randomly flipping him off or giving him a thumbs down for no reason at all. It was so innocent.

A tingle spread through your core knowing the man who'd make silly gestures and faces at you through his window at night just to see you laugh was the same man who had gutted humans for kicks. 

You stood in your room, looking at his black window across the street as his hands worked to free you from your tight dress. He chuckled at the sight of your ass stuffed in the fabric, running his hands down your waist to grab the bottom of your dress and pull up. 

“Where'd you get this thing?” He mused, attempting to fix your hair from the battle of pulling it over your head. 

“Tara. She found it on a run, said the color suited me.” You snorted.

His arms wrapped around your now bare body, hands cupping the soft flesh of your breasts and kneading. 

“Hmm.” His face nuzzled in the back of your hair, inhaling your clean scent and enjoying the way it felt against his skin. You were just his polar opposite, so soft, sweet, where he was hard and rugged. So kind, patient, his pretty feminine contrast. 

You were trying so hard to hold it together and not beg him to fuck you the same way he'd fucked you the other night. You craved it. 

Ever since he had you that night you craved it. Craved the raw pain and utter helplessness. You craved more.

“Rick.” You whispered, placing your hands over his, their position still tender and gentle over your chest. 

“Hmm?” The sudden feeling of his knee between your thighs made you moan. He pressed it up higher, pushing firm against your panties, the soft gray pair that was far too tiny to wear in any other scenario. 

He grinned against the back of your neck at the realization, you'd put these on just for him.

“Speak, sweetheart.” He breathed, parting your hair to kiss your neck. 

Rick was doing a good job of making it hard to remember what you were planning on saying in the first place. He kissed down your neck, his hands sliding down your torso to rest on your hips to guide you forward towards your bed. 

“Got you something.” He muttered into your neck before he pulled back to push you on the bed. 

He dipped his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a folded napkin. He glanced up at you, his eyes almost looking hesitant. 

You swallowed hard and watched him unfold the napkin, his movements slow, until he knelt on the floor in front of you and showed you his gift. 

“Oh.” You couldn't think of what to say. Earrings, small orbs that were a deep red color. On either side of the orb sat two diamonds, much smaller than the rubies.

“You like ‘em?” He urged, looking up at you, eager, desperate for your approval. Like his life depended on you putting them on. 

“Of course I do.” You nodded, and took them from the napkin in his open hands. 

His lips bloomed into a smile as you put them on. His eyes followed each move you made. 

The second you put the last one on he was on you, his lips on yours, a hand on your throat giving a gentle squeeze that sent excitement fluttering in your stomach.

You groaned, tilting your head back to give him better access. Wordlessly begging him to squeeze harder. 

He didn't get the hint, only dipping his head down to kiss the bottom of your chin. 

“Rick.” You drawled, your head dizzy and light from his touches and kisses. 

“Hmm.”

“You know how,” you sucked in a sharp breath as he nipped the skin below your ear, immediately going to kiss the reddening spot in an apology. “The other night you- you were rough?”

He pulled back, his hand relaxing around your throat, his fingers unfolding to simply press against the side of your neck. 

There was a look of sympathy, regret maybe. He nodded, his eyes soft and locked on yours. “I shouldn't have, I'm sorry. You're just…” he sighed, the sound coming out with a shudder. “Was it too much?”

“No.” You immediately answered, shaking your head. “I liked it.” Your words had an obvious affect on him. The sympathy was gone, completely replaced with building excitement. 

“I want that again.” 

He closed his eyes. His fingers twitched against the side of your neck before slowly bending back into a firm grip around your throat. 

“Don't, don't hold back this time, please.” 

When his eyes opened you got that same shock of fear you felt the first time, but unlike the first time there was no uncertainty. 

You whimpered when you felt his hold on your neck loosen. “I can take it.”

He took his bottom lip between his teeth, his jaw flexing as he bit down. Putting on a good show, pretending he had to think about it. Pretending he was cautious. He knew what he would look like if he dove right in without hesitation. He'd look like the selfish, self indulgent man he truly was when it came to sex. 

He raised his eyes to yours, his lips splitting into a grin. You mirrored his expression, your heart hammering against your chest, grinning as he slid on top of you and onto the bed. 

“Tell me to stop an’ I will.” He reminded. 

“Not gonna happen.”

He chuckled, low and deep in his chest. His lips found their place back on your neck, and his hips between your thighs. 

You groaned the second you felt his dick through his jeans pressed up against you. The sensation was rough, almost painful the way he ground against your thin panties. 

The feeling of your nipples being pinched had you squeaking in surprise, your back arching. There'd been no warm up, just an immediate burning pinch.

Then a twist. 

“Oh, god!” You groaned deeply, your eyes clenching shut. The pain radiated much further than just your nipples, shooting down your breast tissue, almost all the way over your entire chest. 

“Sounds so good.” He muttered, planting his feverish lips against the cheeks of your scrunched up face. “Such pretty noises.” 

You put on a brave face, keeping your mouth tightly shut as he tested your limits, switching between pinching and twisting your sore buds. 

He was impressed. You whined and groaned, but you never told him to stop. He released them and you sucked in a breath, your back relaxing back into the mattress. 

“You have no fuckin’ clue,” Rick spoke, kissing down your chest. “How sexy you are. How sexy that was.” 

You wrapped your fingers in his curls as he kissed your sides, clenching his hair in your fists when he opened his mouth and gave a hard bite on your waist right below your ribs. 

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your legs instinctively bent at the knees, clenching around his torso under his armpits. 

“Too much?” He hummed, releasing you from his teeth. He rubbed a finger along the bite mark and you winced, but shook your head. 

Rick couldn't help but chuckle at the look on your poor pretty face. “Don't feel like you've got to impress me, sweetheart.” 

“No.” You shook your head again, quicker this time. “Not that.”

“Good.” He went back to working you over, planting kisses down to your thighs. 

Your body was beginning to relax at the gentle touches of his lips on you. But true to his nature, Rick ripped that feeling away, sending electricity through your heart and heat through your core when he sunk his teeth into the inside of your upper thigh. 

Right below your panties he bit, over and over, sometimes just a nip, then a rough, teeth-gritting bite on the other thigh. 

You were unbelievably wet. Your hole burned, desperate to have something inside it, anything.

His fingers grabbed your panties and tugged them down, and you got exactly what you'd prayed for. 

The middle finger, his longest, slipped into you and pulled out a moan from your lips. He watched your face as he curled it, each curl and drag making you come more and more undone. 

He'd be content to finger you for hours. Watching the glint of red on your ears when you'd turn your head, or the glimmer of gold under your collarbone when you'd arch your back. He almost came when he saw your fingers wrap around the golden pendant.

You were having the time of your life, squirming on your bed as he knelt between your knees and made you come. 

“Oh, fuck, Rick!” You gasped, bending your knees again, wanting to wrap your legs around something, a waist, a head, but they were empty and you just slammed your knees together when the cord in your belly snapped. 

“Shit.” Rick cursed, watching your face as you came. The faces you made, it made his chest tighten and the smallest, faintest, tiniest lump form in his throat. You were too beautiful. Too perfect, covered in his trophies, his trophy. All his work in the last year perfectly laid on your naked body. 

You moaned behind closed lips, your eyes finally opening as your orgasm died down.

Your stomach flipped at the sight of Rick sitting there, staring at you. His eyes flicked up to yours when he saw them open. His shoulders rose and fell heavily, his nostrils ever so slightly flared. 

“Rick?” You breathed his name, blinking away the fog in your eyes. 

The image of him spreading your knees with his hands, those beautiful big hands, and crawling up your body set your core on fire again. You felt more wetness leaking out of you as he pushed his hips back between yours, forcing a soft moan from your throat. 

He fumbled with his belt, leaving it through the loops, knowing you liked the clinking sound it made when he fucked you. 

Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw the first flash of his dick. It looked much darker in the dim lighting of your room and the sight of his thick pubes made your stomach flip again. It was so masculine, so primal, it drove you insane. 

“C'mere.” Rick huffed before kissing you again, tearing your gaze away from his dick. 

You hummed into his lips, wrapping your fingers back in his cold hair. You'd succeed in making his slicked back hair messy, and thick curls fell down his forehead and tickled yours. 

He smelt so good, his shampoo and his cologne. His breath as well, which led you to believe he'd brushed his teeth when he used your bathroom. With your toothbrush. 

Even though he was sliding the tip of his dick around your slippery pussy, the thought of him using your toothbrush made you blush. 

“Mmm, hah-” He grunted as he pushed into you, spewing out a string of curses as your walls squeezed him the way he'd squeezed your neck. 

You felt a bit of pride at his reaction, and bit back a smile when he pressed his forehead against your shoulder to steady himself.

The feeling of his heavy cock sitting unmoving inside you finally sets your mind into a blank state. You breathed through your lips, slow and deep, trying to control your racing heart. The anticipation was killing you. 

“Did you mean it?” He spoke, the sound of his low voice startling you. 

When you didn't immediately answer he rolled his hips, and you moaned. 

“When you said you can take it?” He continued, his hands moving from their place on your hips up your sides. 

“Yes.” You answered with an eager nod. 

He breathed out, and grinned, looking down at you with a sleazy and cocky expression. “Should've fucked you a long time ago.”

Before you could agree he pulled out an inch, and slowly pushed back in. You whimpered and tilted your hips upwards, already becoming greedy and impatient. 

He teased you like that for a while, barely pulling out, slowly pushing back in, and it soon had you a whiny mess.

“Harder.” You whined, your fingers curling repeatedly around a lock of his hair. 

“Yeah?” He hummed with a smile, pulling back out a little further, but still pushing back in just as slow. He pulled back out and caught you off guard by slamming back into you, making you see stars and birds. 

“You like that? Huh?” He drawled, pulling back out even further, fucking his dick into you with another brutal thrust. "This what you want?"

You didn't respond with words, only nodding and moaning. 

The quick and rough snatch of your chin in his fingers had you sobering up real quick. He forced you to look at him, his pupils blown, his open lips in a breathy smile. “Asked you a question.”

“Yes. I love it. I love it Rick.” You babbled, nodding faster. “Please don't stop.”

He dug his thumbnail into your chin, holding your face in place as he thrusted into you. His index finger slipped between your lips and forced your mouth open. Before you could react he was spitting on your tongue, and using his finger to slide down the back of it. 

You gagged, a short and easy gag that wasn't uncomfortable. You could feel his dick twitch inside you at the sight and sound of you gagging on his finger. 

He fucked you normally for a minute, his pace rough and deep, but still not fast enough for your liking. 

“Sit up.” He grunted. You don't know why he even told you to because he was already moving you for him, grabbing you by your hips and moving until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the floor and you in his lap. 

The new angle had his dick much deeper. If he was only a few millimeters longer it would've been unbearable, but the pain was sharp and you loved it. 

“So pretty. Pretty girl.” He cooed, squeezing the flesh of your hips as he rolled his hips up against you. 

The image of him still fully dressed and you completely naked on his lap brought you closer to orgasm. As much as you loved it he was getting hot, and he had to take his jacket off and throw it behind you. 

The white T-shirt that was a little too small was just as hot. 

You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt so you wouldn't fall backwards and moved on him, lazily raising your hips in a way that complimented his own movements. 

Each time you moved back down he'd move up, forcing himself as deep as possible, deep bolts of pleasure shooting through your core each time you sank back down. 

Oh, finally, finally.

He picked up the pace. 

He gripped your hips and started moving you on his own, bouncing you up and down on his length. 

“Oh, god.” You blurted, tightening your grip on the front of his shirt. His rough mound of pubes dragged against your clit each time he tugged you down against him, and you were close. 

“Gonna -”

He quickly cut you off. “Gonna cum for me?” He breathed, and one hand left your hip. He dropped you down on his dick and started using the strength in his thighs and core to fuck up into you. 

You didn't have time to wonder where his hands went before his left one was in your hair, and his right was around your throat. 

He squeezed, much harder than before. Your face immediately felt tight and hot, and you had to fully open your mouth to gasp down air. Thankfully he was only cutting off blood flow, and you could still breathe. 

Not that it mattered much, because he quickly took your breath away with a slap to your face. 

You came hard and with a sharp cry, your thighs squeezing his waist as your hips jerked in his lap.

“That's right.” Rick hissed, and wrapped your hair around his fist and yanked. 

You didn't think it was impossible to reach a second high in the same orgasm, but you did. Your head spun as your body trembled against him. You couldn't process much of what happened, your mind was too fuzzy, your body buzzing to the point of shivering, twitching, and he slapped you again. 

You cried out, your eyes snapping open to find his face. 

He looked so beautiful. Face red in the dim lighting, that sexy stubble, his eyes dark with dilation. He looked just as ruined as you, but he was holding it together far better. 

“S’it okay?” He slurred, his movements slowing as he took a moment to rub your red cheek.

You never in your entire fucking life thought you'd enjoy being slapped on the face. And certainly not by a man. But you didn't just enjoy it, you loved it, you loved the feeling of Rick hurting you and getting turned on by it. You loved his wide hand making your cheek burn. 

“Stings a little.” You admitted, your voice raw from your vocal orgasm. “But, I liked it.”

“It stings?” He grinned lazily, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “Was being gentle.”

You groaned, jerking your hips forward and earning a low grunt from Rick. 

“Told you not to be gentle.” 

“You're right.” He leaned in and kissed you, deep and firm. He pulled back, but not before catching your bottom lip in his teeth and pulling you back with him. 

He rolled you over on your stomach and pushed back into you, taking a moment to kiss your shoulders and neck before getting back to screwing your brains out. 

You pushed your ass into him, eager to feel him as deep as you had when you were in his lap. It worked, the tip of his dick slipped past the curve of your walls and rubbed against the soft spot inside you. 

You should've pissed before sex, but it was too late for that now. You'd have to wait. Besides, the feeling was a guilty pleasure, something you'd feel embarrassed to admit, feeling him fuck into you when you needed to pee made each thrust feel ten times more intense. 

He wrapped your hair around his fist again, his movements extremely deliberate and precise, the same precision as braiding your hair. 

Rick used the grip on your hair to yank your head to the side. You let out a little yelp, and his other hand slid under you, finding your throat again. 

“How's it feel?” he lowered himself down to your ear. He held your head in place with your hair, his grip tightening and pulling every so often, bringing sharp tingles down your scalp and neck. 

“Having my hand around your throat.” He breathed. He kissed around the back of your neck, the tips of your shoulders, his hips slamming down against your upturned ass. 

“Feels so good.” You rasped, pushing yourself back into him to prove your point. You shoved your pillow to the side so your nose wasn't covered anymore, enjoying the feeling of air on the side of your hot face. 

“Is that right?” His teeth dug into the skin above your shoulder blades. "Love these hands?"

You couldn't answer. He'd tightened his grip around your throat and it wasn't just blood cut off from your brain anymore. 

“You know what I've done with these hands?” He groaned after you clenched down around him at his words. The feeling you got and the reaction you gave to his words was morally reprehensible. It was fucking disgusting. 

“Know how many?”

You should've felt ashamed that you came after that. But you didn't. Not at that moment, at least. Your walls squeezed around him and you tried to moan, but it was strangled out of you. 

It felt like seeing God, or something holy and ethereal. Your vision was flashes of white and black, flickering like strobe lights, your head felt like it was about to explode with pressure. Your eyes burned, but your pussy felt amazing. 

All you could do was grip onto the sheets beside your head and enjoy it, and pray you didn't pass out and miss the best post-orgasm glow of your life. 

Rick let out this strangled groan behind your head, his brutal bulldozing of your spasming cunt growing sloppy. He squeezed your throat harder as he came into you, fucking each drop back up inside you as he fell down from his high. He drew out every single wave of pleasure, even to the point of it becoming uncomfortable for him, his dick burning and tingling with overstimulation. 

His hand left your throat, and your head throbbed as the blood and oxygen rushed back up into it. You groaned, soft and pained, pressing your forehead into the mattress in an attempt to minimize the pain.

You couldn't really focus on it, thankfully, because the feeling of his dick dragging down and out of your trembling walls was too jarring. 

“Fuck.” You grunted, your waist moving to the side to get his dick away from where he had it sitting against your pussy. 

If you thought he was sweet after the first time, then he’s a bonafide angel this time. 

He turned you over and sat you up, brushing your damp hair away from your sweaty face. 

“Hey.” His palms smoothed down the sides of your head, fixing your wild hair. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” You managed a very weak and crooked grin. 

He smiled in relief, and swiped his tongue under your nose, wiping away the small drop of blood that peeked out. 

After cleaning you up and helping you to the bathroom he slipped your favorite night dress over your head, not bothering with underwear. 

The post orgasm clarity was trying its damndest to make you feel like an awful piece of shit. Knowing what Rick had done to people who didn't deserve it. It was something you could never be okay with, but his lips kissing over every bite and bruise he'd given you did a good job taking your mind off it. 

“Beautiful.” He whispered against the bite marks on your neck and chest, planting another kiss on the next mark. “Look at you.” 

You knew you probably looked like you'd just crawled out of a car wreck. Your hair was still messy even though he'd tried to fix it, and your neck was a whole new problem. Bruises from his teeth and hands. Blood blisters from where he'd bitten down way too hard in some spots. Even though no vessels had burst in your eyes they were still red, and that wouldn't go away overnight. There were more turtlenecks in your future.

It was like art to Rick. You looked like art. He kissed your rings. His hands holding yours felt like they belonged to a completely different person, so gentle and light, as if you'd suddenly turned into glass and the slightest pressure would break you. 

He kissed your throat, the bottom of your chin, and your swollen lips. There was the faintest twinge of purple on your bottom lip, a line fitting the exact measurement of his top left incisor. 

“First time I've ever been fucked like that.” 

Rick chuckled, raising his head from your lips to look down at your blissed out face. 

“First time I've fucked like that.” He kissed your cheek before finally laying down beside you. 

It surprised you, even though it shouldn't have. You were the first person he'd fucked since Lori, and she seemed like the type to blanch over simple restraints like fuzzy handcuffs, no disrespect intended. 

“Is that what you think about?” You whispered, feeling your already burning cheeks get hotter. “When you're… Solo…” 

He let out a gruff chuckle. “Yeah.” He laid out his arm for you to move into him, and you did. You pressed against his side and rested your head on his chest, inhaling the scent of his deep sweat and the remnants of his cologne. 

“Is that all?” You asked, trying to sound confident. “Or, was there more?”

“More I wanted to try?” He humored you. You knew he was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, but the urge to know more was gnawing at you. When you nodded, he tilted his head to look up at the ceiling, which was now black from the lights being turned off. 

“Yeah. There's more.” He finally answered. 

You forced yourself to stop asking questions. You nodded against his chest and pressed yourself tighter against his side, nuzzling your head in an attempt to get more comfortable. 

“Can talk about it later, if you want.”

You smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @adribarbie @my1fx @jinx-nanami

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch. 6

(Hes sitting next to you in this pic :D)

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst, SMUT Summary: You search for Daryl after Negan's lineup. You didn't understand the trauma he went through, and eventually you decide enough is enough, and you leave. Notes: The last chapter! Somewhat proofread. Filled with tensions overflowing and then some sex. I had a lot of fun writing this and want to thank @louifaith again for allowing me to write out her idea. It's also pretty long because I didn't want to break it into two chapters, it didn't really make sense that way. Longish read, but longish smut at the end if you're just here for sex and want to skip ahead.

When you found out he left on some halfcocked revenge mission, you were pissed. And then you learned nearly everyone else had gone too, you were pissed and confused. 

The rare presence of the others had become more common than the familiar presence of Daryl. He was gone more often than not now, either out with Aaron or off with Rick. Even when he was home, he was never really there. He didn't laugh at your crude insults about others anymore, he didn't want to spend all day with you out hunting in the woods. It looked like was also making an effort to smoke less, often declining your outstretched cigarette. He was the one who got you to smoke once. You used to hate it, but eventually associated the smell of tobacco with him, and you grew to love it.

You couldn't read him like a book like you once did. He'd become overly serious, distant, and uncharacteristically concerned with the well-being of others. 

You had half a mind to just leave. The only reason you hadn't left months ago was Daryl, but the way he was treating you felt like a slap in the face. It hurt. For the first time in so long you hurt. You felt utterly and completely alone, leading you to once again close yourself off from the others, spending all your time hunting or scavenging for substances in the city that could make you feel better. You scored an unopened bottle of painkillers, something you once hated, and drowned your sorrows with a stuffed nose and a foul post nasal drip. 

The savior issue never really seemed like a big deal to you when it first arose. Some asshole raiders trying to make a point, you didn't give a shit. Rick and Daryl would handle it like they always did. 

You took a deep drag from your cigarette as you watched the front gates being opened, two heavy duffle bags over each of your shoulders. You’d come to terms with it, you were leaving, and that was it. You weren't some obedient housewife that didn’t mind the absence of Daryl, you were his best friend and you couldn’t put up with the dramatic emotions anymore. You were fully prepared for the conversations that would ensue, a list of reasons you should stay, maybe some light pleading, so when you saw what came from those gates you froze. 

The muscles in your jaw throbbed as you listened to Rick's pitiful attempt at retelling you what happened, his eyes red and puffy, his hair wet and matted to his forehead. He couldn't, so he gave up, and drug his feet into the house, moving in a way that closely resembled the dead. Carl followed, and you realized Maggie was missing too. Your heart dropped. 

“What the fuck is wrong with him? What happened?” You gaped, looking from face to face, searching desperately for an answer, only to be met with the ghosts of their former selves. You spotted Aaron and realized he was almost never out without Daryl, and your confusion snapped violently to panic. Michonne was really the only one who wasn't too shocked to speak. She told you everything in great detail, her words cold and harsh as she made her anger towards your insensitive behavior well known. Each word she spoke felt like a curse, spitting at you with such venom you'd never had directed towards you before. You deserved it. 

You weren't a good person like them. The deaths of Glenn and Abraham didn't make you cry, go through all the stages of grief and have a mental crisis, in the moment she told you they just felt like problems you’d deal with later, you didn’t have the time. Not when you still had no idea where Daryl was. 

Despite not being a good person, you reacted to the news in a way that was very impressive by your standards. You didn't scream at anyone, or punch Gabriel in the face, you just threw your already packed bags in the car and set off. 

You chain-smoked an entire pack of cigarettes the first hour of searching. You never did find the saviors home, even though you didn't stop searching to sleep the first few days. You found the location of the massacre, a few shredded pieces of clothing and blood stained dirt. You were brought to furious tears at the thought of the scenario where you were in Daryl's position, and him yours. Your first assumption was that he would've already tracked you down by then, him and his one man army breaking you out and taking you far away from the entire state. Then the second, and more daunting assumption, would he even look? Would he be too busy taking care of Rick and the others, the task of rescuing you put on a back burner? 

You told yourself maybe you were just impulsive and stupid, maybe Daryl in that scenario was just being smart and careful, you were just a guns blazing idiot who didn't think far into the future. 

It felt like you'd been out there for weeks, living off a diet of cigarettes and various illegal substances. You nearly stuck a knife in the face of  a woman who was unlucky enough to walk into the same store you were in. 

“No, please, don't.” She sniveled pathetically, her hands raised to the sides of her head in surrender. “I don't have anything. Please. I can take you to my camp, we've got food and water and medicine-”

“Dude, shut up. Just thought you were a walker. Goddamn.” You sheathed your knife and stood back, the tip of your tongue held between your teeth in thought. “But I'm hungry as fuck!”

She took you back to her camp, which was extremely impressive. And just in time, too, your stomach growled noisily and you felt the small waves of hunger nausea begin. 

“Put your gun away, please.” She pleaded in a hush whisper as you stood in front of the wooden gates. 

You looked to her with furrowed eyebrows, your cheeks hollowed out as you pulled on your twentieth cigarette that day. You really needed to cut back. “No.” You muttered around the cigarette, eventually sighing and slinging your rifle over your shoulder with a dramatic eye roll. 

The sight of Rick and Maggie chatting outside with a small group of others felt like you'd been slapped in the face. They looked just as stunned as you were, pausing their conversation. You stood there for about ten solid seconds before the silence finally broke. 

Rick opened his mouth to speak but you raised your hand, stopping him. “Don't have time. Just gonna eat and leave.” 

“Daryl's here.” The sound of Maggie's harsh voice halted your route to the front of the mansion. You couldn't hide the look on your face, an intense ‘this better not be a lie’ mix of anger and disbelief. She pointed up to your previous destination with raised eyebrows and you took off. 

He almost punched you in the face when you jumped him. He was still wet from a shower, littered in various sized bandages and bruises, wearing a fresh set of clothes. He smelled like laundry detergent and cheap flowery shampoos. 

“Holy shit I thought they killed you. Holy shit. Mother fucker.” You babbled into his chest as he squeezed you so hard your back cracked. 

It felt indescribable being in his arms again. It also felt incredibly different. You'd hugged him hundreds of times but something about this particular hug stood out. It was desperate and deep, you didn’t worry about coming off as soft or being too much. Your fingers dug into the sleeves of his shirt around his biceps, your face buried into his chest, and his hands were all over you. He couldn't decide where to touch you, your arms, your face, your hair, your back, they would move from place to place as he cemented into his mind that you were really there, there in his arms, holding and petting him like you'd always done before. His mind flashed with images of him back in that cell and his throat tightened, the slightest whisper of a whimper sounding in the back of his mouth. He held you tighter and kissed the top of your head, rocking you in his arms for a few silent moments as you pulled yourself together. 

“Where the hell you been? Rick said ya left with all your shit.” His voice was tight, the way it would get when he would try not to cry, along with raising in pitch a little. 

You looked up and smiled softly, seeing him through a sheen of wet tears. “Doesn't matter.” You hummed as you stroked his cheek. “Really. It doesn’t. I've been looking for you, only reason I'm here is because some bitch thought I was robbing her and told me about this place. Couldn't keep looking if I was starving.” You buried your face back in the fabric of his shirt and sighed deeply. 

“Told ya, I ain't leavin'. I ain't dyin’ neither.” His warm words in that deep rumble resulted in your racing heart finally slowing its pace. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” You pulled back from his chest to look up at his face. He looked miserable, it broke your heart. He looked away from your gaze, unable to keep eye contact, which was something he never struggled with before when it came to you. “Daryl?”

His head immediately dropped and his forehead collided with your shoulder. Your heart banged against your ribcage and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, stroking the back of his neck and kissing the side of his head while he stifled his soft sobs.

“Let's leave. C'mon.” You parted from him, only to be pulled back by his grip on your wrist. 

“Y’jus’ got here.” Daryl furrowed his brows, his eyes wet with tears that he quickly blinked away.

“Yeah, to eat so I could keep looking for you. I've found you, so let's go.”

“Go where?” 

You gritted your teeth as his grip on you loosened. “Anywhere else, I don't care.” You said through clenched teeth, your gaze intensifying. “We're done with this shit. Not our problem anymore. Let's go. I'm not letting these people get you hurt again. Never, Daryl.”

Daryl had never been the reason you cried, at least, that's what he thought. So when you started cracking at his rejection, his heart shattered. Every bone in his body yearned for him to hold you, bring you back into his arms and make the pain stop. It hurt even more to see that you weren't just upset, you were pissed, disgusted at the fact that you were showing such weakness in front of the same person who made you cry. 

“I gotta. ‘Jus need to do this.” He attempted to comfort you after your rage at your perceived betrayal faded into tears of defeat. “M’doin’ it for us. Ya gotta trust me on this.” 

There was a small glimmer of hope then, and you allowed yourself to feel it. You were desperate to believe him, and desperate to believe everything would turn out alright. Rick and everyone else would deal with Negan, you'd scratch that burning itch for revenge, and everything would be okay. 

Rick did deal with it, that much came true. At the cost of his son's life, he defeated the saviors.

You were more than willing to fight. You’d been dying for a purpose, and being a soldier in the war against Negan was exactly what you needed. You looked like a cheesy action movie protagonist with two long arm guns on your back and two pistols in each hand. You used more ammo that day than you had in your entire life. God. You wished Merle had been there to see you and Daryl. 

You didn't get the revenge you so desperately craved. You absolutely lost it when Negan was defeated. After Daryl decided against killing Dwight, you lunged at the man like a rabid fox, fully prepared to end his life with just your teeth and hands, only to end up clawing and wriggling in Daryl's grasp. You could've gotten over that eventually, it would take a really long time, sure, Dwight was a brainwashed cult member and did what he did because he was told to. And he'd get his, even if you had to restrain yourself. Fine. It’s fine.

But Rick sparing Negan? 

No. Your reaction to that earned you the reputation of the group's feral animal. You shared the same reaction as Maggie, but unlike her giving up after a while of being held back, you ended up earning a matching set of rope bracelets and anklets.

“You'll have to kill me.” Your throat burned as Daryl tossed you in the back of a blue Toyota camry. He nearly had to force Dwight into the passenger seat at gunpoint, the terror in the backseat scaring him more than the thought of death. 

Your spit was red and thick as it smacked onto Dwight's battered face, blending with the blood that made him unrecognizable. He was barely able to get to his feet after Daryl's threat of death if he was to return, blindly picking up the car keys in the mess of blood spattered leaves. 

The relationship between you and Maggie quickly became a deep friendship as you plotted to kill Negan. Neither of you were allowed to see him in his cell without someone to stand guard, but Maggie even moreso. With enough time you were able to get down there alone, gun in hand, only to be stopped by Michonne, who had apparently come for the same reason. 

“I haven't seen you much before. What's your name.” Negan's eyes followed you as you paced back and forth in front of his cell, seething from the fact that Michonne wouldn't let you kill him yet. She had her own unknown motives, which didn't really matter to you, but all this talking was driving you insane. 

“You don't need to know my name.” You muttered, cutting your eyes at the man. “You look so much smaller than I remembered you looking in that field.”

He winced at your words, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Oh, sweetheart. That hurts. Actually, I've been told I'm pretty impressive.”

He watched you as you continued pacing, your hands sweaty and your eyes wild with rage, confusion, and confliction. A smirk spread on his face. “Look at you. Like a lion in a cage. Well, I’m the one in the cage, but. Coulda used a psycho bitch like you. If you were on my side that day, phew!”

You pulled your gun from your waistband and pulled the trigger. Negan raised hands and jumped. Your heart dropped when you were met with an empty click. You inhaled sharply through your nose and pulled out the clip, which was completely empty. 

Daryl. He dragged you out of the basement, thankful he’d unloaded your guns the night before. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what you were planning. He didn't care that you were pissed, Rick wanted Negan alive, so that's what he was going to stay, even if he did want the prick dead.

It didn't take long for you to pick up on Daryl's trauma. He was good at hiding it from others, nothing much had changed aside from him being quieter. But once your selfish rage had settled you noticed small differences. He slept closer to you at night, no longer on the other side of the mattress, and his nightmares became more violent. He'd thrash in his sleep, tossing and turning and sweating, you found yourself waking him up more times than you could count. Each time he'd get real quiet, maybe from shame, and walk outside to smoke a cigarette. You'd follow him each time and sit quietly on the porch steps, not caring that he didn't offer you a hit. He looked like he needed all he could get. 

You saw him crying with Carol once. His head dipped down and his forehead pressed against her shoulder. If it had been long ago you would've felt hot at the sight, assuming he obviously must've felt closer to her since he hadn't cried like that with you since his capture, but you weren't as shallow and selfish as you once were. Your heart ached for him, wishing he would open up and tell you what happened, you could comfort him too, you wished you could tell him that. 

“Wanna go hunting?” You asked one day, picking up your new hunting rifle, a Savage model 99 that you'd replaced your broken bow with. Daryl shrugged from his spot on the chair beside your bedroom table, not looking up from his work. He was almost always making new bolts in his free time then. He had a pile of twenty-two sitting next to him. 

“Come on, I'm craving venison.” 

He inhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging. 

“Seriously, we haven't hung out in forever man.”

“Hang out?” He said it like you asked him for a ‘playdate’. “What're ya, twelve?”

“No, I'm an adult who misses you, jackass.” You muttered, kicking one of his boots across the floor closer to him. “You've made two hundred arrows in the past week man. I think you can take a break. Yeah, don't look at me like that. I've counted.”

It was when you were alone in the woods that he broke down. You hadn't even asked, he just told you after you took down a buck. He didn't cry at first, he gave a vague retelling, it was only when he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders from behind that he cried. His head hung low as his chest shook with quiet sobs, his hands laying idle and nervous in his lap, his eyes looking down at the stump he sat on. You rested your head in the crook of his neck and held him for a while, your fingers occasionally giving his biceps a reassuring squeeze if his breathing grew too ragged. 

“I'll kill him. I promise. I'll find a way.”

When you were fifteen you skipped school for the first time. Your freshman year, Daryl's too. It was one of the only times you hung out that wasn't just the right time, right place. He was the one who talked you into it, since the two of you shared a history class. He brought cigarettes and a wild assortment of drugs, no doubt nabbed from Merle. 

“We should do this more.” Daryl had said as you walked the power line trails in the woods behind the school. He shrugged when you looked at him, his gaze falling to the grass in front of him. “Hang out, I mean.” 

“Yeah, we should.” You flashed a rare smile, earning one from him as well, the purple skin around his eye wrinkling. 

You never did. You were too busy with school work and getting beat on by your withdrawing mother. Daryl wasn't really busy, in fact, he was alone most of his teenage years. Always alone out in the woods. Sometimes he'd miss school for a week, living in his father's tent deep in the forest, spending his time learning to live on his own. His father never noticed, not until the school called and he got one of the worst beatings he'd ever gotten. You saw him at school a few days after that, one of his last days before he dropped out. 

He looked awful. Busted lips, bruises all over his arms, light purple handprints on his neck, and deep purple blotches around his eyes and jaw. The school called the police, but nothing ever happened. Daryl told them it was from a fight with some kid, and they happily accepted that answer, eager to miss out on the paperwork. 

“We should just leave.” You said after he pulled the cigarette back away from your lips to take a drag of his own. 

“I would.” He muttered as he held the smoke in his lungs, watching the kids in the far off soccer field chasing the ball. His legs dangled off the edge of the school roof, occasionally swinging a bit. 

“I would too.” You wouldn't. Not until you got your brother back. You looked at him, feeling an unfamiliar twist in your heart when you saw the way he flinched under your sudden gaze. “I'd kill him if I could.” 

You truly meant it. Even though Daryl was barely an acquaintance at that point, you would have killed his father if you got the chance. Daryl didn't mean much to you to be brutally honest, you didn't care to form a deep friendship with anyone, but you shared the bond of trauma from parental abuse and that was deeper than any normal friendship. He could leave, never see you again, and you wouldn't be upset, but if you ever had to witness his father touch him it would shatter your soul. 

You promised yourself you'd kill anyone who ever hurt him after that. You almost murdered Andrea when you found out she shot him. You risked being eaten alive by walkers just to make sure the Governor was really dead. You beat Dwight until Daryl dragged you off, if he hadn't done that you would've killed him. 

Things got a lot worse after the day of your failed assassination attempt. Daryl was never home anymore, either at Hilltop or Ezekiel's kingdom. You had reached the point of considering leaving again. The emotional rollercoaster you were going through was taking a heavy toll on your already fucked mental health.

He could see the effect his absence had on you, and it made him feel like shit. There wasn’t much he could do, he had so many responsibilities and he would never ask you to come with him and Rick every time they packed up and went on long trips every five seconds. It felt selfish to him, he didn’t know that you’d be more than happy to accompany him. 

His hands on your tense shoulders as you sat on the edge of your bed did wonders to loosen you up. You set your gun down beside you and looked up to him, forcing a smile. 

“C'mon sweetheart. Wanna show you somethin’.”

He took you on a long walk in the woods to a secluded pond that once belonged to a fisherman, obvious by the raggedy dock and small wooden shack filled with all sorts of fishing tools. There was still homemade canned fish in his cupboards. 

“Gonna stay here for a few days. Jus’ you an’ me.” 

You watched him over your can of trout, chewing slowly. “Really?”

Daryl shrugged and stabbed his fork into his own can. “Yeah. Ya need it.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “We need it.”

Your heart swelled with warm joy, a smile spread on your face and you tried your best to contain the satisfaction his gift had given you. You missed your best friend more than anyone you’d ever missed before after your baby brother. You’d come to terms with the more than likely possibility that he was dead, and so were your parents. It took a long time and many different weeks spent searching when you were back in Georgia. 

You had a fantastic time with him. You fished all morning, talked all afternoon, and ate your fill of fresh and canned fish. It wasn't long before you set up your bedrolls in the middle of the shack and blew out your candles. It felt amazing to sleep next to him again, you couldn't properly put into words how much you missed him. The feeling of his large warm body next to yours as you fell asleep had you thinking that it was all worth it. He was making an effort to spend time with you again, and with that effort came the sparks of hope, hope that you were getting your best friend back.

You woke up the first night spent with him in the fishing shack to see moonlight seeping through the holes in the tin roof. You rubbed your blurry eyes and sat up, propping yourself up with an elbow on the floor. 

“Daryl?” You murmured sleepily as your eyes came to focus in the dim light. His bedroll was still beside yours, albeit empty. You waited a few minutes before walking outside, assuming he just had to go piss or something. 

Ten minutes passed before you walked back into the shack, now carrying a small candle to light the room, cursing when the wax dripped down your knuckles. The amber glow illuminated his bedroll, bringing attention to a small white square. You leaned down and picked up the piece of paper, squinting in effort to read his handwriting. 

The pain in your chest was deep and dark. Growing up you had grown used to being disappointed by your parents and people around you. It never surprised you. Even now you didn’t expect much from people, but Daryl was that exception. So when you read his little apology, claiming Rick called on him through his walkie to request his help in the Kingdom, you decided you’d had enough.

He had been in the Kingdom for about two weeks until you heard from Rick that they were back.

“We're leaving.” You seethed the moment you stepped into your new shared bedroom with Daryl. It was upstairs in one of the apartments in Alexandria, no longer the basement in Rick's house. You had a nice king sized bed, lots of dressers and shelves, a big ass tv, and even a gaming console that once belonged to Carl. Daryl had only slept in that bed three times since you moved in months ago.

He sighed your name and stood from his seat at the table, setting down the disassembled gun he'd been cleaning. “No we ain't. Cut that shit out.” 

“I can't be here anymore. I can't. I can't.” You began hyperventilating as you ripped the dresser drawer fully out, falling to your knees and quickly grabbing the clothes that spilled out. 

“Stop.” When you didn't comply he made you stop, grabbing your wrists and forcing you to look at him. He spoke in that serious tone that felt like a stab to the chest, his eyes burning holes into yours. “I'm not leavin'.” 

You froze at his words. Your mouth opened and your lips trembled, your breath catching in your throat. The words never came to you. You just stared at him with wide eyes and a horrified look of disbelief.

Daryl didn't speak either. He stood his ground, maintaining a firm gaze, his grip on your wrists slowly loosening. 

It hurt. And that made you angry. 

“Who even are you anymore?” You hissed, tearing your hands away from him and shooting up on your feet. “I never see you anymore, you're cold, distant.” He got to his feet, accepting each blow of your words with this calm face that turned your anger into lividness. 

“You promised me you'd never leave me. You promised you'd always be the one thing Daryl, the one thing that wouldn't change, wouldn't leave, wouldn't hurt me, I kept my promise!” Your finger hammered against your own chest in reference. “You say you're never leaving but you already left! I can see it in your eyes, don't look at me like you have no idea what I'm talking about.” Your face burned. “I can see it. The pity, the disdain. The only reason you haven't just kicked me out is cause you feel like you're obligated to me now, or maybe you're scared I'm some loose canon and I'll burn this fucking house down-”

Daryl had heard enough, he lurched forward until he was inches away from you, his nostrils flared due to his increasingly heavy breathing. “You're fuckin’ delusional!” He spat. “You don't think this is hard on me too? Don't think I'd rather be out there livin’ in some cabin with you? That shit ain't happenin’, these people are family. I ain't leavin' ‘em neither. Shit don't mean I don't care ‘bout ya anymore. We ain't in Atlanta, ‘ts not like that anymore. Ain't just me you ‘n Merle.”

“We should've just left. We should've just left.” You repeated in a breathy whisper, your glazed over eyes locked on his chest. 

“Yeah? Well, we didn't, now we can't. Now I won't.” The purposeful enunciation of the last word was the straw that broke the camel's back, and he immediately regretted it as soon as your eyes squeezed shut. “G’damnit.” 

“Fine.” Your breath was shaky, and you resumed packing. 

He found it impossible to stop you, impossible to move. In reality all it would take from him was a simple request for you to stay, but he couldn't even manage that. It felt like watching a fire you started get out of control, he knew he still had the power to stop it, but he was too stunned to move. 

You zipped up the same second duffle bag you'd packed with the same intention on leaving, just as you'd done before. This time though, it wasn't the same. It felt too final. You knew it would be the last time. Daryl did too, and he still didn’t stop you.

You’d set up camp deep in the woods down a dirt road that led to a pond. You slept in your car with your campfire a few feet away, a pot of wild carrots and rabbit simmering over the coals. It smelt amazing due to your stolen beef bouillon cubes, but you didn’t really have the motivation to eat. You flicked away the first cigarette of your last pack and stared into the red hot coals, watching them ebb and glow until the flash of something large and dark caught your eye. 

You stared in disbelief as you watched his figure move through the thick trees, making his way over to your little camp beside the car you'd stolen from Alexandria. He had a heavy bag with him. 

He plopped his bag down next to your fire and sat down, helping himself to a bowl of your stew. He said nothing, not even looking up at you as he finished your supper.

“The hell are you doing here?” 

He looked up at you and sucked the grease from his fingertips, the empty bowl now discarded at his side. You had no idea how he’d managed to get his fingers coated in rabbit fat, it was fucking soup and he used a spoon. “Ts’it look like?”

You couldn't move, your feet glued to the debris of the forest floor. Your mind spun with questions. If he was actually willing to leave with you, leave all those people behind, why had he shut you out? Why had he changed? What changed? 

“I don't want you here. It's an obvious act of charity.” You finally spoke, watching as he lit a wrinkled cigarette. “You told me yourself-”

“Will ya shut up?” He squinted up at you through the burn of smoke. “Jus’ walked six  damn days to find ya. M’not leavin'.” 

You sat on the opposite side of the fire in silence. He scooted around to sit next to you, and held his cigarette up to your lips. You took a weak pull and sighed. After a while of not speaking, you broke the silence. 

“You're so different. Changed so much”

He nodded at your words, his head tilted down to stare at the leaves between his legs. “Had to.”

“Why?” The question burst from your lips so quickly that it surprised you. 

“You.” He took a deep pull off his cigarette and blew it out the opposite side of his mouth to avoid blowing it directly in your face. “This ain't the kind of life you deserve. Tryin’ to get that for ya. That little house ya dreamed of living in, one with a screened in porch for plants ‘n shit. Life that ya ain't spendin’ hungry, cold, scared.”

He paused for a moment, taking another long drag. “Wanted me to be better too. The kinda man to pick ya flowers, take ya on dates, all that stupid shit.” He flicked the spent cigarette into the fire and leaned back against your car door. 

If it was possible, you were feeling every emotion all at once, in such a rapid and disorienting fashion that it looped back around and made you too shocked to feel. 

He delved deeper, explaining that he felt you deserved better than who he once was, Merle’s echo, a loud and angry asshole, then turned into a cold and traumatized shell, never allowing himself to feel vulnerable with you again. When he finally broke out of it and realized exactly what he wanted, he worked on himself in a determined attempt to be the man you dreamed of marrying as a kid.He worked on your surroundings as well, making sure to eliminate any possible threat in every colony that had even the slightest chance of risking your livelihood. But more importantly, he wanted to be yours. The type of husband you described when you were thirteen years old, cleaning the blood from his swollen ear one of the nights he slept on your back porch. 

“I'm not gonna be like my mom.” You had said firmly, tossing away the bloody tissue paper. “I'm gonna get a good husband and I'm not gonna mess it all up like she did.”

“A good husband?” He questioned curiously, wincing as you dabbed his ear with rubbing alcohol. 

“Yeah, like…. He'll take me on dates, open doors for me, buy me cool stuff, uh….” You trailed off in thought. “He's gonna build me a house too. With a screen porch that I can put a hundred plants in, and he won't be allowed to smoke in it. Oh, he won't smoke, actually. Or drink, or do drugs. He'll never hit me or yell at me like my mom did to my dad, and to me. He'll be handsome too. And smart.”

You were brought to the present with a jolt as Daryl’s hand touched your knee, making you jump. You didn't notice your eyes had started watering and you quickly went to discreetly dab them dry. 

“Guess I fucked up. M’sorry. Was a real piece of shit.”

“No,” your voice broke as you stopped him, grabbing his hand on your knee and giving it a squeeze. “Complete opposite of a piece of shit. I had the wrong idea, I should be the one apologizing.”

“Tsh. Nah.” Daryl waved you off and shook his head. “Should’a told ya. Wasn't thinkin' right.” 

The two of you sat in thoughtful silence until the embers began to grow dim. The forest was thick, so even though the sun was visible as it sank lower and lower, it soon became too dark to see properly. 

“My…” you broke the silence, searching for the right word. “Aspirations have changed since then.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Several seconds of silence.

“How'so?”

“Well, I don't care if he smokes, or does drugs, or curses or can't take me out on a date. He doesn't have to build me a house, but that's still an option.” Daryl snorted, and you went on. “But he does have to own a crossbow, ride a motorcycle without a helmet even though I tell him to, and he definitely needs this,” your finger tapped on the skull tattoo on the back of his hand before sliding up his arm to stroke a line down his back, “and these tattoos. And this.” You touched the mole over his upper lip. “And he definitely has to slur all his words together because of his accent.” 

“That's all, huh?” He joked softly, watching you draw your hand away from his face. “Y’got some low standards for a husband.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. He also has to go back to his family, because that's where he belongs.” There was a quick flash of hurt on his face, his lips parting and his eyes narrowing, so you continued. “And because that's where my dream house is going to be built.” 

In all your years knowing Daryl Dixon, you'd never been sexually intimate. You'd never had sex, flirtation only being reserved for playful teasing banter, you'd never really kissed, aside from that one night at the Greene farm. You'd laid with each other multiple times, more often than not sleeping curled up together in the woods or on the floor of some house. Despite never being sexually intimate there was an unspoken mutual understanding of your relationship, you were together, but not in the traditional standard sense. Neither of you ever had interest in a relationship with anyone, that was simply out of the question. Why have a partner when your best friend is everything you need? 

He became your partner at some point, maybe that's why it caused so much anguish to the both of you when you left. But it was only that night that you solidified it. And the next morning, and in the back of the car on your way back, and on the hood of the car, and after your shower back home, and after dinner, on your bed, on the floor, a second time after that, right before bed, and again the moment you woke up. 

It started with a kiss, which just so happened to be his second ever kiss, the first being you in the back of Dale’s RV. You wouldn't have ever guessed, the way he kissed with so much passion and vigor felt akin to a man kissing the same pair of lips he'd kissed his entire life. And you would have never guessed he was a virgin. 

Each touch was as if he was handling precious glassware. He never took off any of your clothes, he'd just gently tug at your shirt until you got the hint and undressed yourself. 

At some point you moved to the back of the car, he laid you down and closed the door behind him. Your soft pants and gasps quickly led to the windows fogging over, and by the end of it there were beads of precipitation dribbling down the glass. 

He led graciously. His fingers were gentle but firm against your clit through your panties, working hard and with determination to give you the orgasm you deserved. He obeyed your requests for ‘circles, ah, softer, to the left, more’, and before long he was a master in the art of making you come. 

Daryl wanted to give you oral, but you quickly pulled him back up, shaking your head as you gasped for air. “N-no, please. You. Need you.” 

It was shocking that he didn't feel embarrassed when he came early. You'd reached down to stroke his cock, only getting in a few strokes before he pulled away with a strangled gasp, spilling his hot cum on your bare stomach. He didn't have time to feel embarrassed because only seconds later you were taking him in your desperate mouth, giving it your all to make him hard again. 

He didn't take long. After stiffening in your mouth he eased your head away, maneuvering you on your back in such an effortless way that it made you look like you weighed nothing. Due to your wetness and unimaginable arousal it didn't hurt at all when he finally pushed in after rubbing his cock all over your desperate slick flesh. 

You cried out anyway. Your jaw dropped and your eyes rolled back, clutching at his bare shoulders when you felt his pelvis fully connect with you. 

“F-fuck.” You groaned as your eyes rolled back, digging your fingers deeper into his skin.

He let out a moan then, a light and vulnerable sound. You could feel him shaking on top of you as he fought not to finish again. It broke your heart, knowing he wanted to have sex with you so badly, to please you like you had him. 

You stayed as still as humanly possible while you waited for him to move. 

Daryl’s breath slowed and he moved, finally. He fucked you slow at first, slow and deep thrusts that managed to bury his dick further and further inside you each time. With each thrust he let out either a shaky whimper or a deep grunt, and soon he was picking up the pace, fucking a moan out of you each time he drove his throbbing cock back inside. 

When his hand connected with the warm skin of your torso you whimpered, tossing your head back against the car seat. His hands stroked your sides, rough and dirty fingers scraping against your nipples and breasts. He gave one a firm squeeze, eliciting a sharp moan from you, one that he eagerly swallowed down with his hungry mouth, kissing you deeply and feverishly. He was breathing heavy through his nose, hot puffs of air sending waves of heat across your upper lip and cheeks.

A rough slam of his pelvis against yours sent the tip of his cock so deep it was almost painful, your gasp choked in your tight throat, your thighs squeezing the life out of his torso. He groaned at how responsive you were, his hot wet lips sliding down your face to start kissing your neck. 

Daryl was quiet in the sense that he didn't say much. He groaned and whimpered, sure, but he hadn’t said a word since entering you. Which was totally fine by you, but you were a sucker for dirty talk. It was one of your favorite parts of sex.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You whined, hoping to get a response. He just grunted, a possible returned compliment, his head not moving from the crook of your neck. 

A noticeable increase in his pacing had all thoughts vanishing from your mind in a puff of smoke. You could feel the side of his jaw clenching against your neck, the skin hot and prickly with stubble, the friction eventually becoming uncomfortable. As if he could read your mind he raised his head and looked down at you, the tip of his tongue peeking between his teeth, looking like a man in deep, oh, deep, concentration. 

“Fu-uh-uck-” You babbled, your heavy eyelids shutting against the brutal force of his thrusts. You grabbed onto his biceps again and held on for dear life, giving them a squeeze each time he gave a really deep thrust. 

“That’s it.” Your heart jumped in your chest at the sound of his voice, it was gravely and sounded from the base of his throat. You felt your lower stomach do that delicious flip sensation, your clit throbbing in response to his voice. 

“Mmm’god.”

“I know. I know.” He breathed, taking a second to readjust himself between your legs before going back to his artistic thrusting. He was grinding against you then, barely pulling out, using the full weight of his hips to force himself as deep as possible while he ground into you. You couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, it was a miracle that a virgin could fuck like that. He was a savant at something he’d never done before. You came hard around his throbbing dick, your walls clenching down so hard that it ripped his orgasm straight out of his body. 

You gasped, your fingers tightening around his flexed biceps as your orgasm shook through you in violent waves. You moved your hips on your own, grinding up and against his pelvis to draw your pleasure  out for  as long as possible. 

Daryl wasn't expecting it, he just came. His jaw dropped and he held onto the nearest body part, which just so happened to be your neck. He didn’t choke you, which came as a slight dismissible disappointment, he just held onto you with his large hands as he finished. It was so sudden and unexpected that he couldn’t control the sounds he made, better for you, he let out this beautiful high moan that sent flashes of Daryl in Atlanta behind your closed eyes. His body shuttered and jerked as every single rope of his cum flooded your insides, coating your vice like walls like spilled paint. 

You didn’t give him time to recuperate. You squirmed under him, swapping your positions, and took his softening cock in your mouth. He groaned under you, grabbing you by your hair to pull you away, only to shudder when he felt his cock growing hard again. You smirked against the tip as he gently pulled you back down.

Halfway through he tugged you off of him, the two of you switching spots once again. You whined when you felt his lips connect with your puffy clit, your mind swirling as he used the flexed tip of his tongue to drift between your slick folds. 

“Oh god, daryl.” You panted and ran your fingers through your sweaty hair to push it back over your head. You were either extremely sensitive due to the two orgasms, or he was an extremely skilled pussy eater. Either way you came fast, clenching your thighs around his head to clamp his mouth tight against you. He didn’t ease up as you came, his tongue and lips pulling tricks you didn’t think possible, drawing out your orgasm longer than any time previously. 

He slid up between your legs, planting kisses from your wet mess up your stomach to your chest. He suddenly bit down on one of your nipples, gentle at first, but the moan that came from your lips had him tightening his teeth.

You were under the impression that he would ease you down from your high with light kisses and soft touches, but apparently, he had other plans. His cock plunged back into you before you had any idea what was happening, and he quickly set a fast and intense pace. His hands slipped around both of your wrists and pulled, using the leverage to both fuck you deeper and keep you firmly in place.

If you could’ve seen the state you were in, you’d be a red hot embarrassed bitch. Your mouth was hanging open, your eyes fluttering between open and closed, sounds coming from your throat that envied any moan and whine to ever come out of a woman's mouth. Your hair kept falling back in your face each time his hips slammed into yours, no matter how many times you hastily pushed it away or tucked it behind your ears. You looked at him for as long as you could, but you were too stimulated, it was too hot, he was too beautiful, you had to let them fall shut as you came again.

As cliche as it sounds, your final orgasm, for that night at least, was world shattering. You didn’t care how loud you were or what types of faces you were making. Your body was completely out of your control, your brain on pause as it struggled to deal with the flood of dopamine and oxytocin. 

Daryl wasn’t looking any better, he’d ran miles before and came out looking more put together. He huffed as he came inside you yet again, his dick twitching with each spurt of cum. He braced himself on his elbows on either side of your body, his head drooping down as he managed a few sloppy thrusts. He muttered something then, something you were too fucked up to make out through his thick and slurred accent.

When he finally drew his red and tender dick out of you his heart seemed to skip a beat. The two loads spilled out the second he withdrew, trickling down your folds and over the swollen head of his dick. That was a sight he’d remember till the day he died.  

You fought to catch your breath after he all but collapsed on top of you. It was pure bliss for a few moments, and then it was too hot and too close. Before you could say anything he lifted himself off of you, still waging his own war against his lungs. 

“Getting old there, huh?” You teased, sliding up into a sitting position after grabbing your panties. Yeah, he's old, it's not the fact you just did the same amount of exercise as swimming across the atlantic ocean.

“Shut up.” He breathed as he wiped his damp hair from his face. 

After a few moments of silence, apart from the sounds of your breathing, you dressed yourselves and began loading all your shit into your car. 

“You really walked six days? No bike, no car?” You questioned as he plopped down into the driver's seat, the flame of his lighter illuminating his face. The smell of cigarette smoke had you leaning over and he pressed the filter against your lips. 

“No bike.”

“That’s kind of stupid.”

“Huh. Rich.” He smirked around the cigarette at you before glancing over his shoulder to watch the dirt road as he reversed.

“Yeah, true.”

Your life wasn’t magically fixed after that night, and neither was Daryls, but it did get a lot easier. You zipped up your coat but your shoes were still full of snow, that kind of better. A lot of shit happened, you had your arguments, but no fights. After RIck died you ran off together looking for his body, for Daryl’s closure, living off in the woods somewhere with a dog that liked to growl at you. He was over possessive of Daryl, and so were you, so the two of you were butting heads often.

He never did build you that house, but you moved into one of the newly built homes in Alexandria. He did build you a back porch, which looked great for someone who’d never built an entire screened in porch before, even if it did look a little raggedy in some spots. He even brought home pots for you to plant ‘shit’ in, as he said. 

Daryl wasn’t home often, which didn't bother you anymore, because you were out there with him. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @louifaith @my1fx @jinx-nanami

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.5

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: You and Daryl grow closer due to feeling out of place in Alexandria. Just when you think you have the old Daryl back, he leaves.

Notes: I think the chapter after this one will be the last chapter, and finally have some cheesy old fashion love making :D Sorry Daryl vanishes at the end tho ):

It never seemed to end for him. In front of everyone else he was silent, emotionless, an empty body on autopilot. But when you'd walk off into the trees to search for water, it always hit him, no matter how many times he'd thought he'd cried out all out and was done with it. 

He clung to you after her death like never before, constantly walking in your shadow and wordlessly begging for some sort of comfort, reassurance, anything. You did the best you could, which ended up being more than either of you expected. You seamlessly morphed into the familiar elder sister role, mirroring the ways you would comfort your bruised baby brother. 

He put a cigarette out on his hand the one time he went off by himself, and not following him was something you came to regret. 

“Daryl,” the whisper of your voice had him cringing, the sound too empathetic and full of concern, he had to fight to keep himself from cracking when your comfort washed over him. 

“I know… I'm not good with words, or shit like this.” You sighed, maintaining a quiet tone, low enough for the sound of rain and the crackle of fire to cover. 

Daryl remained silent as you spoke. He picked at the skin around his fingers, looking down at his hands in his lap, and the sight of your smaller hand lightly touching his wrist makes him jerk. 

“I can't take away your pain, God knows I'd kill every goddamn piece of shit alive to make you feel better.” Your voice turned shaky, and the urge to cry was becoming overwhelming for the both of you. “But... I can promise you, you'll never have to worry about losing me. I just want you to know, I'm that one thing you don't need to worry about. I always will be.” 

Daryl slowly inhaled through his stuffy nose and nodded, the noise dry and shaky, his eyes burning and unblinking from their gaze on your hand. 

“I know.” He finally spoke and nodded again, as if that would magically set it in stone. “Me too.”

Slipping back into your place in the group dynamic was unpleasant after being alone with Gabriel for that long. It wasn't just one person you had to make an effort for anymore, and deep down you despised it. It was almost comparable to going back to school after summer break. You had to play by the rules again, fit into their perfect perception or risk repercussions. 

The discovery of Eugenes lies was all but a surprise to you. You didn't have some wild sense of intuition, you were just a pessimistic person. Although you kept your opinions to yourself, you didn't predict the extent of how deep his lies had been. The cure was a given, obviously, but the fact he lied about being a scientist as well? Lied about the safe place in Washington too? It took everything you had in you not to cave his face in when you saw the look of disappointment on Daryl's face. That's another reason why you hated being in a group. People didn't deserve to be able to let you down, and sure as hell not the one person you gave a shit about. 

People love to parrot that same ‘it has to get worse before it can get better’ bullshit you'd been told by concerned and empathetic authority figures all throughout your childhood. Safe to say it had lost its meaning to you, even when Daryl tried to lift your spirits. 

Well, it sure got better for everyone else. 

You weren't alone in your suspicions about Aaron. For once Rick and you agreed on something, it was a bad idea to go to Alexandria. But the group convinced him to take a chance, that the rewards greatly outweigh the risks, and you watched with a disapproving glare as Aaron led you all past the gates. 

“I'm just going to ask you a few simple questions, get to know you. You don't mind if I record this, do you?” 

You had a feeling your answer wouldn't make any difference, no matter what you said. You shook your head as you watched Deanna turn her video camera on, the big black lens feeling like an intimidating pit waiting to swallow you up if you gave an answer she didn't like. She rounded the couch and sat down, a tight and professional smile on her lips. 

“Let's start with your name.”

You told her your name, trying to behave despite your stomach growling and the sudden awareness that you smelled and looked awful. 

“Where are you from,” She repeated your name. 

“Georgia. Up North.” 

“Did you work?”

“No.”

“What were you before the outbreak?” When you didn't answer, she elaborated. “Were you a student in school, staying at home, traveling…?”

“After high school I stayed home for a couple years. Took care of my mom.” 

“I understand you're close with Daryl, is that right?” 

You must've visibly reacted to that question, because even after you answered, she pressed for more information.

“Did you grow up together?”

“Kind of, we weren't really friends or anything. He lived nearby and I'd see him around.”

Deanna nodded as if she was your therapist listening to some deep-seated trauma. 

“Did you ask anyone else these questions?” You scratched the back of your arm, beginning to feel uncomfortable. 

“I ask everyone all kinds of questions. I want to get to know you all, it's not an interrogation. You don't need to answer any that you don't want to.”

She finally changed the subject to your relationship with Rick's group. Not that you were eager to talk about it, but at least she wasn't grilling you on Daryl anymore. 

“I've been here since before Rick came and took over. Back in Atlanta. Daryl and his brother Merle came to get me when it happened. I thought maybe they were having some bad trip or somethin'. Ran into my house yelling about dead folks coming back to life and eating people. If it wasn't for them, I'd probably be dead too, but, I think they mainly came to get me because they knew my mom had a stash of cigarettes and drugs.” You were chuckling as you spoke, not realizing you had given up so much information without her even asking. You instantly shut up, the amused smile leaving your face. 

“How do you get along with other members of your group?”

You cringed at the phrasing. They weren't your group, they were Daryl's people, you were just a temporary guest without a set time to leave. 

“Fine. Haven't heard any complaints. Have you?”

“No. But I have heard you don't work well with others.” 

You shrugged. 

“Do you want to be here?” The way she would use your name at the end of every few sentences was starting to get under your skin. 

“I'm kinda stuck with wherever Daryl wants to be.” 

Deanna ended the interview after a handful of other unimportant questions and you were allowed to leave, led to your new house by one of her son's. 

You took the longest and hottest shower of your life, only getting out when Abraham started pounding on the door. It brought back that same feeling of anxiety you'd get when your mother would bang on your locked door in a fit of anger. You nearly ran him over when you burst out of the bathroom, making him drop his change of clothes and call out a disgruntled complaint. 

“Who the hell is this?” 

Daryl looked up from his bag to see you looking down at him, a teasing grin on your fresh face. The image of you being all cleaned up had him momentarily stunned. It had been a while since either of you had seen each other clean like that. 

“Daryl? No way, where's your grease?” You toyed with his damp hair before sitting next to him on the floor near the fireplace, where he'd decided to sleep for the night. 

“Nah, I don't know you. Ya don't smell like bloody rabbits.” He retorted, leaning in to dramatically sniff at you. “The hell is that? Shampoo?”

“Uh, it's shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotion, and toothpaste.” You replied, giving an exaggerated smile to show your clean teeth. 

You shared a few chuckles and jokes as the rest of the group cleaned up and prepared for bed. Even though you couldn't stand the place or the new people in it, the prospect of having your own room with an actual bed had you buzzing with excitement. 

Sleeping next to Daryl wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you. It was an arrangement that happened more nights than not. But sleeping next to Daryl in a safe house, wrapped in clean clothes, soft blankets, and not even the slightest whiff of the outdoors? It was overwhelming. 

You turned on your side to face him, watching as he stared up at the ceiling, the dark room filled with the familiar ambiance of gentle snoring and breathing. Daryl always slept after everyone else, and that night was no exception. 

Despite your instincts telling you not to, you wiggled on the blanket to move closer to him, nuzzling your face in his nearly dry hair, closing your eyes as you inhaled his clean scent. 

He stiffened at first, an automatic reaction which soon faded and he relaxed, tilting his head until his cheek rested against your forehead. He could barely feel the warm tickle of your breath under his jaw, the feeling soliciting a subliminal relaxation. His eyes closed then, and he listened to the barely audible whistle of your nose. He listened as the whistle got softer, slower, and nearly disappeared altogether as you fell asleep. 

Daryl made sure to untangle himself from you the next morning, before anyone else had the chance to wake up and witness your private bond. No one deserved to see that part of him or you, it was intended for the two of you alone, something deeper and more personal than anyone would understand. 

Adjusting to being around people was a challenge that went all the way back to school. Even in Atlanta you struggled with it, going from being a hermit with your sick mother to an adult in a large group of people, it felt like your first day of school all over again. 

That was all nothing compared to being in Alexandria. Not only were you surrounded by people that annoyed you, but another larger group of people you knew absolutely nothing about. 

They bestowed heavy responsibilities on you as well. It wasn't just scraping by washing clothes and hunting, it was work. Hard work. Wall building, gardening, work inside Alexandria, work outside their walls, near constant supply runs, and cooking. 

Parties. Pasta for dinner. A seemingly limitless flow of sparkling amber champagne. Some kid was walking their fucking pet dog on the sidewalk. 

It felt insulting. Their first impression on you firmly implemented your personal views towards them. Spoiled, weak, wearing faces of false persona, wives chittering like hens with warm knowing smirks. Husbands and men who always smiled like the sun, going out of their way to do things they considered nice for you, then putting on a somber and humble face if anyone had praised their hard work, dedication, and sacrifices. Sacrifices that basically ensued going to the grocery store. 

You hated it. You hated them, you hated their kids, you hated their houses that looked like mansions to you, and you hated the way Rick's group treated it like they'd walked through the bright pearly gates and not the glorified pretentious prison that it was. 

To your relief Daryl didn't quite like it either. 

“They invited us to what?” You didn't believe him when he said it to you as he stared around your new room. 

“Said it was a welcoming party.” He grunted, fingers picking at the edges of a tacky poster of a puppy on the wall. 

“A party? What do you mean a party?” 

“Dunno.” He sighed, throwing his hands up in muted exasperation. “S’jus what she said.” She being Deanna, the same woman who took away your guns, which yours had grown to be quite the impressive collection. But you being your hardened and sneaky self, you'd managed to smuggle two of your handguns into your room. Daryl got to keep his crossbow, of course, and you your own recurve bow, it was the bare minimum aside from your knives, which the others were allowed to keep as well. Sadly, you'd end up breaking that bow a few days later by slinging it at Pete's head.

“And everyone's going?” You pressed on from your seat on the bedroom dresser. 

“Dunno. Goddamn, told you what she told me, you know s’much as I do.” 

You went to the party. Of fucking course you would, they had full on meals with all the food groups, they had alcohol, they had little appetizers and finger foods you'd only ever seen on tv and in magazines, you'd be an idiot not to. The only con was the house was stuffed with people. You could barely make it two steps without bumping into a new face. 

You didn't stay long at all, leaving the second your stomach felt full, and you had a decent buzz going on. You snuck out the back door and snagged the half empty bottle of champagne on your way out. 

“Ya went?” Daryl was surprised to see you walking down the sidewalk in new clothes. The black button up hung a little loose on you, the sleeves bunched up around your elbows, the hem falling all the way past your ass. 

“I may not like those people, but they make some damn good casserole.” You snickered, popping out the metal reusable cork and taking a deep drink. 

Daryl grabbed the bottle from your outstretched hand and downed nearly the whole damn thing in three gulps. 

“Yeah yeah. Go on, help yourself.” 

He gave a weak grin at your playful scoff before handing the bottle back to you. 

“You remember what I said back in Atlanta.”

You looked to your side at Daryl as the two of you walked down the dimly lit path back to your new residence. “Gotta be more specific.” 

“Bout takin’ their shit an’ hauling ass outta there.” 

“Yeah. One of my biggest regrets is talking you out of it.” You sighed, your tone no longer playful and lighthearted. “We could be all the way across the country by now. Would still have Merle bitching out ears off and ranting about some racist conspiracy theory.” 

Daryl suddenly chuckled. “You ‘member that time he was tryin’ to come up with slurs for walkers?” His amused grin spread further when you erupted into laughter at the memory. “What was it he called ‘em? Rotters? Pus-suckers?”

“Yeah, those were some of the tamer ones.” At the time you'd been annoyed by Merle's constant need to remind you that the three of you were better and more superior than anything and anyone around you, but all this time without him and his humorous outlook on life, you missed it. You even missed when he'd belittle you, at the end of the day he still was sexist, despite the obvious care he held for you. 

“Why'd you ask though?” 

“Dunno.”

“Daryl.”

“Everyone's safe now, ain't gotta worry about ‘em anymore.” 

You kept quiet as he fought for the words to convey his thoughts. It was obvious he felt like the odd man out again, it was impossible not to, in a place as nice as Alexandria. The rest of the group had effortlessly slipped into their places in the new environment, if you were an onlooker, it would look as if time had frozen in place for the small neighborhood and its citizens. 

But Daryl, and you, it wasn't easy like that. You never had a normal life like this, so you had no default state to regress to. Daryl had only changed a little since the start, and you hadn't changed much at all. Your skin felt like it was burning with electricity at the insinuation in his words. 

“I'll go wherever you go, you know that.” You nodded firmly. “Just say the word.”

He ended up going to Carol with his vague plan, and then Rick. You don't know what they said to him, but the next morning he told you he wanted to give it a few days before he made his decision.

You should've just made the decision for him. You should have grabbed your stuff, packed your bags, and stole one of their cars and left. Because a few days turned into a hell of a lot longer. 

It wasn't all bad, the two of you grew even closer due to his feelings of being an outcast once again surfacing. It was the same for you, which caused you to cling onto him tighter than before. You slept on the same ratty mattress in your room, sometimes cuddling, but most of the time on separate ends.

You watched more people die around you, which was something you'd become bitterly accustomed to. Aiden, one of Deanna’s sons, and Noah, who you'd never spoken to before. Rick made some trouble for himself getting wrapped up in the wife of the town surgeon, and all hell broke loose after that. Pete lost his shit and accidentally killed Deanna's husband, and Rick killed Pete. As if there hadn't been enough blood shed, a hoard of walkers became an issue just as things started to calm down. 

You didn't like the role that'd been assigned to you. You were being seen and tasked as a protector, sent out by Rick with Abraham and a handful of others to build strategic walls for his master plan of relocating the hoard. 

Another thing you didn't like was the way people's views towards you changed. People who once never even spared you a second thought were speaking to you, making an effort to get to know you, and it was just as unsettling as that time Rick invited you over for dinner. 

“Too pretty to be so sad all the time.” Abraham had said once as you dug a hole for the wooden pillar. 

“I'm not sad.” You muttered, stepping back as three men lifted the wood into the hole. You poured in the instant concrete and took your gloves off to get a drink of water.

“So you just always have that sour look on your face then, huh?” 

“Only when I'm around people I don't know.” Or like, you thought to yourself. 

“I've known you for how long now? Course you know me. And Sasha, and Rosita, and-”

“You're people I'm stuck with. Doesn't mean I know you.” 

“Tsh.” He snorted, folding his massive arms across his equally massive chest. “So you're just a bitch then?” 

“Yeah.” 

One would think that conversation would've been enough to get the point across. No, sadly, it only made things worse. Rick ended up giving you jobs with more people, and you quickly caught onto the convenient way Daryl was almost never in those assigned groups. 

Rick was in charge, that was undebatable, but he wasn't in charge of your free will. You did your work as he asked, most of the time faster than expected, and spent every second of your free time with Daryl, even if it meant pulling four different jobs a day. 

It worked like that for a while, and eventually you did begin to change. Not you exactly, moreso your attitude had changed. You became less closed off, no longer baring teeth and claws as a constant warning. You actually enjoyed spending time with Abraham, as he was one of the only people that called you out for being shitty, he wasn't scared of your mean mug or the harsh bite of your words. It wasn't just Abraham you started to like. Maggie, Carol, Rosita, Michonne, and sometimes Tara, the small group shifted from strangers to acquaintances, some would call you their friend. They'd eventually worn down your hard exterior and you experimented a little with conversation and generosity. Carol was the exception, it was you who had to pursue her. Trying to become genuine friends with her was hard, it made you realize how hard everyone else had been trying with you. 

You even started decorating your room a bit. Nothing fancy, just a few homemade shelves and displays for your numerous weapons. You made a special one above your futon, the only object it held was the small gold tinted shell of a used bullet. 

All good things must come to an end. 

You sat alone in your shared room for the third night in a row, silent on your lumpy mattress, your eyes burning in effort to hold back tears. 

He hadn't even told you he was leaving. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.1

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Summary: The little boy you patched up in the trailer park grows up, your paths finally aligning to bring you together. The man who was once only a rare source of comfort becomes your other half, only to pull back when you need him the most.

Notes: Based off of this post. Basically an angsty story detailing your relationship with Daryl and the group over the years, and when Daryl starts to grow distant from you.

Growing up was hard. Growing up without your loving father was even harder. 

You accepted the cigarette pressed in front of your lips from his hand and took a deep pull, holding it in your lungs until you felt your heart finally slow from its painful pace. He took his hand away from your face and took an equally long drag. 

“When's Merle getting out?” You asked as you absentmindedly scratched the dry blood off your fingernails, your nose still throbbing from your mother's fist. 

“Next week.” 

You were young then. God, way too young to be smoking cigarettes. Most kids your age stole them from their parents, bringing them into the eighth grade classrooms to sell or trade. 

Merle did come back the next week, but not for long. He eventually abandoned the two of you for the military, something his younger brother was really torn up about. After Merle left, said younger brother spent a lot of nights on your back porch couch. Your mother didn't mind, in reality she didn't give a shit at all, normally too high to care, or going through withdrawals so bad she only wanted to beat on you and blame you for your father's disappearance. 

You began to deeply miss Merle and the comfort he would bring, mostly in the form of alcohol or illegal substances. He'd always make you promise not to tell anyone, and you'd always say you weren't a fucking idiot. You were lucky you'd grown up on the same street as the Dixon brothers, it had inadvertently caused the older to view you as an estranged little sibling, sparing you from his foul advances. 

The Dixon brothers eventually became a rare sight. You all were just too busy with your own bullshit. You had a little brother to look after, and you did your best to shield him from your mother's antics, but one day the teacher saw that big bruise on his back and CPS took him away. You really missed Merle then, because at least he had the decency to sell you drugs instead of asking to trade for sexual favors. That made a substance induced escape a lot harder, forcing you to go into the city to find a decent dealer. 

You were sitting on your back porch crying with blood all over your face when you saw them again. 

They were frantic, tearing into your driveway with their dad's truck, shouting at you to get your shit and get in. Your mother was too doped up to understand what was happening, slumped on your dirty living room sofa with a bloody straw still on her lap. Merle had tried to get her to get up and come, shouting about ‘goddamn dead people eating everyone’(using a less kind word than people), but in your post-beating rage you left without her, leaving her on your couch to succumb to either an overdose, or whatever the hell the Dixons were warning her about. 

You begged Merle to go by the foster home to look for your brother. Begged, cried, and eventually screamed, and he screamed right back at you. Daryl barely managed to calm the two of you down with a hopeful explanation that the building that housed your brother was the safest place he could be. That didn't stop you from trying to steal their truck later that night though, which only ended up in another screaming match and a bloody spat with the undead. 

“Turn left here. Left, here!” 

“Well shit, give me more than a goddamn two second warning fucktard!” It was a wonder Merle hadn't lost his voice from the near constant shouting, at Daryl and you. This time it was the former, attempting at giving his brother directions to the safe zone in Atlanta, reading off a dirty crumpled map with text made for ants to read. 

You rubbed between your eyebrows and continued looking out your window as Merle turned around in the middle of the road to take the left into the highway. 

The sound of your name being called had you internally groaning. “Hey,” Merle snapped again, looking over at you in the passenger seat. “I said get my bag.”

You all but slung his plastic baggie into his lap. He took out a pill bottle with the label ripped off and fished out three pills, dropping them into his green pill grinder as he drove with his knees. 

“Just let me drive, man.” Daryl complained after having to correct the wheel for the elder brother. 

“Ay! Keep your stupid fucking hands off my wheel before you lose ‘em.” 

Most of the drive was like that. And it was even worse when after seeing Atlanta fucking napalmed. You were all close to losing it, and thankfully right before your Mexican standoff ensued, you found a group. 

You couldn't stand most of them. Most were too soft, too nice, too stupid or too weak. The strongest men were pieces of shit, and the men that weren't despicable were either weak or insane. Glenn didn't bother you too much, especially after you witnessed his weasel-like skills. He was like a roach, always surviving, even when a building fell on him. 

The majority of your time was spent hunting. 

The first day you went out with your recurve bow, which had once belonged to your father, Shane had questioned you. 

“You know how to use that thing?” He asked as he watched you flip your raggedy leather quiver over your shoulder.

You bent down to tie your boots and nodded. 

“You ever use one of those before?”

“Yes. You got a light?” 

Shane took a second before fishing out a lighter from his back pocket, moving intentionally slow as if to show you he was your superior. You snatched the green bic from his hand and lit your cigarette, shoving it back out towards him. 

“Dixons are already out hunting. Left this morning. Why don't you just stay here and help out? We could really use the hands. Women of the camp are sometimes more important-”

You walked off into the woods before he could continue. 

It was satisfying bringing your doe back to camp, even though dragging the thing back was a cruel and grueling process. You asked T-Dog and Ed to help you string it up, making sure to be as noisy as you could, a thick middle finger to Shane. You drained and gutted the carcass, making sure to ask Shane with a smug smile what he wanted to do with the intestines.

“Take it away from camp.” He spoke with his fingers a lot, rough pointing in an aggressive manner. “That shits gonna draw those things near.”

“Makes good bait for fish.”

Andrea and her sister Amy backed you up, even though they cringed and grimaced taking their share down to the quarry. 

Merle and Daryl had finally settled down after a while in camp. Merle wasn't seconds away from murder anymore, and Daryl found peace in his hunting. Eventually Glenn got you your own tent, which you were ecstatic about, no longer having to share one with the two men. 

Merle called your name through a mouthful of stewed deer meat. “Sweetie, hand me a beer why don't ya.” 

Lori looked up over her bowl. “Would it kill you to say please?”

You tossed the warm bottle to Merle, not acknowledging her attempt at sticking up for you. He didn't bother you, his insults or disrespect never did, growing up with someone like that sort of makes you blind to it, especially when you were used to so much worse from your mother. 

“Would it kill you to suck my nuts?” 

Shane stepped in and you groaned, rolling your eyes and taking your stew back to your tent. 

After Daryl's mother passed you saw him more and more. You were about eleven when it happened, you remembered the house fire and the day they moved into the trailer closer to yours. Daryl was almost constantly covered in bruises then. Always a black eye, always a purple bicep, always dried blood under his nails. He didn't smoke with you much after that, his mother having died from a cigarette induced house fire. That was when Merle had left, but your memory of the timeline was foggy. It had been so long ago and so much was constantly happening that you might've misremembered a lot of it. 

“Sleep good?” Your groggy voice caused Daryl to look up from his task of sharpening his knife.

“Nah. You?”

You yawned and sat next to him in front of the fire, stretching your sleepy limbs and taking a sip of his water. “Now that Merle's farting and snoring aren't waking me up every ten minutes, yes. Thought he would shit himself with how bad that tent stank.”

Daryl let out a knowing chuckle and tossed his whetstone in the open flap of his tent. He slipped his blade back in its holster on his belt before grabbing a crooked cigarette from his shirt pocket. 

“Fuckin' hate this place.” He muttered around the filter as he cupped his hand around the flame of his lighter. He snapped his zippo shut and put it back in his jeans pocket. “Me and Merle been talkin’.”

“About what?” You began crunching on a handful of almonds you stole from Lori the night prior. 

“These people, they're… they're fuckin’ idiots.” He sighed as he blew out a stream of smoke, waving his hand around for enunciation. He held it to your lips for you to take a drag, watching as you pulled in a lungful before he took it away. “We should just leave 'em. They probably want us gone anyway.”

You observed him, not responding, chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

“Well? You comin’?”

“Course I am. But I don't think we should leave.”

“Why the hell not? You hear the shit they say about us?” He scoffed, his brows furrowed. “Inbred hicks with their ‘trailer trash whore’. Y’know, they think we all fuck each other when we go off huntin’. Good for nothin' bastards. Should just rob ‘em and leave.”

“I don't give a shit what they think. I give a shit about my odds of survival, which are higher with guns.”

“We got guns. N’we can jus’ take theirs.” He argued, referencing the duffle bag of stolen guns in the hidden compartment of their truck. “Besides, chances are we're safer on our own than these dumb shits, catching frogs with the kids in the damn quarry.” 

“Hey, I'll come if you leave. I couldn't care less about these people. But they keep that RV locked up real tight. It's gonna be a bitch to get into, especially with the rifleman wannabe on top and his gun slingin’ daughter, or whoever the fuck she is to him. Shane's already watching us too much. Let's just wait a while till he stops following me around like I'm some sort of violent nutcase.”

You had unknowingly sealed the fate of many lives with your argument. 

“Gonna go in the city.” Merle said as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, jumping out of his truck bed, careful to not knock over his bike in the process. “Y'all need anything? Tampons?” 

“No.”

“Was askin’ Darlene.”

“Shut the hell up man.” Daryl grumbled and finished preparing his crossbow for his hunt. “An’ no, don't need a damn thing.”

“Get some SlimJims.” Your favorite low cost snack. Growing up in a trailer park gave you a superior taste in snacks, SlimJims and Funyuns being your favorite. 

“Why you want that when I got all the meat sticks you need sugar?” Merle laughed crudely, nearly bumping you over with a sloppy kiss goodbye to your cheek. You smirked and playfully pushed him off, watching as he left with the rest of the supply group. 

“C'mon. Let's go before all the damn squirrels get eaten.” Daryl put his crossbow on his back and you picked up your weapons before following him off into the woods. 

You had good luck that day. Daryl had a rope full of squirrels and you were tracking down a deer he'd sunk a few arrows into. 

“Not gonna need SlimJims no more.” Daryl breathed as the two of you crept silently through the woods, following the trail of bubbly blood. 

“As much as I love your roasted squirrel, it just doesn't have the same kick to it.”

“Never heard you complainin’.”

“Yeah, it's ‘cause I'm not a bitch.”

“You? Not a bitch?”

“Only to people who deserve a good bitchin’.”

“Seems like everyone these days needs a little of that.”

“Hah, yeah. We better get that deer before the dead do, Merle's gonna be hungry as fuck when he gets back.”

You didn't react when Rick Grimes told you he'd cuffed Merle to a roof. You didn't react when it was revealed T-Dog, one of the only people you liked in Shanes group, had dropped the key and left him up there. He'd profusely apologized and you just stared at him, doing everything in your power not to punch him in the throat. 

You did react when you saw Merle's hand on that roof, his body nowhere to be seen. You cursed and shoved Rick so hard he hit the metal side of the fire escape with a bang, and Daryl, eager to jump in, ran to your side with blazing eyes. If it wasn't for the other people there and the guns they held,  you would've killed him that day. Mauled him like the animal you were and left him there just as he did Merle. 

In the absence of his brother, you found Daryl had seemed to subliminally put you in his place, a figure to follow and learn from. Not that you had too much to teach him, but knowing you were the eldest sibling in your family had you fitting into place with him perfectly. 

You guessed you could call Daryl your friend now. You never had many friends, only in elementary school, sticking to yourself most of the time. The kid going to school smelling like cigarettes with the same clothes they wore the day before was never a popular choice for companionship. You never minded it though. The abuse you suffered at the hands of your mother had turned you into a cold and calloused human. Daryl was simply an object of mutual benefit for you back then, a source of company, cigarettes, alcohol. Whatever he could get his hands on. And he was easier to relate to than Merle, who had a good ten years on you. 

But now, he was the only person you had left. Your mother was gone, your precious baby brother God knows where, and your male mentor was still missing, out there with one hand, his state of existence unknown to you. He was most likely dead. Shane's group had quickly become “Rick's group”, and you still held no fondness for any of them. Andrea had formed an odd one sided relationship with you, she craved your status. The group saw you as on level with the men, you never needed gun training like the rest of them, you got to keep your own gun, and no one ever tried to prevent you from doing something you wanted to do. 

It was clear though, none of them really liked you all that much. They treated you like more of an outsider than they had Merle. You couldn't blame them, you wouldn't like someone like you. You were a mean and cold bitch, always keeping to yourself and only viewing them as a transactional business. They provided safety in numbers and you provided fresh kill and a gun. 

One of the only times you behaved like a friendly human being was when you arrived at the CDC. It was hard to recognize you after you showered and cleaned up, washed your clothes and didn't smell like cigarettes or blood anymore. While your clothes were washing you had to borrow some from the former employees, a deep purple sweater and black slacks that somehow fit you perfectly. You caught Shane watching you walk down the hall, and you quickly responded with a snotty face of disgust. 

A stomach full of hot seasoned food and wine loosened you up a bit. You sat next to Daryl and smiled, even laughed a few times, much to the shock of the others. 

“C'mon, one more glass.” Daryl grinned as he filled your cup with more wine before you could object. “Don't be a baby.” 

“Sure thing Darlene.” You snorted as you took a sip, earning an eye roll and a scoff from Daryl. 

“Yeah, keep it up.” He feigned aggression as he downed his third glass. “Won't be so funny when you got teeth in your throat.”

“Not before I lose my boot up your ass.” 

The banter was refreshing. The trip out of the quarry had been exhausting. It felt like you were admitting to failure when you were forced to give up your search for Merle, and oftentimes you debated on stealing his bike out of the back of your truck and going back to find him. But there was always something stopping you, every single time. 

Sleeping on an actual mattress felt amazing. You'd offered to take the couch as a joke, and when Daryl made his way to the bed you dove into the sheets before he could plop down on it. 

“You really are a goddamn bitch.” He slurred and slung his bag at the foot of the couch, falling back dramatically.

“Drink some water before you get a hangover.” You tossed him a fresh bottle from the room fridge, and he begrudgingly downed it. You turned the light off and climbed into bed, groaning at the feeling of the soft and dry mattress.

“You think Merle’s alive?”

You blinked, opening your eyes and looking towards the couch. It was dark, you'd assumed he'd been asleep by then, there had been several long minutes of silence. 

“Yeah. I know he is.” You were surprised by his question. Daryl had always been the one reassuring you of Merle's status, claiming he was impossible to kill, and that he could feel in his bones that his brother was alive. It also made you a bit uncomfortable, you'd never comforted anyone before that wasn't your little brother. Let alone Daryl. The most you'd done for him was offer him sanctuary on your porch and cleaned his wounds if they were bad. 

“Go to sleep Daryl.” 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams (wasnt sure if you guys wanted to be tagged since its eventual smut but here u go)

Showing 'Excitement' in Writing

Eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Bouncing on the balls of their feet.

Clapping hands together in delight.

Speaking in a high-pitched, rapid tone.

Grinning from ear to ear.

Jumping up and down with joy.

Hugging others spontaneously.

Cheeks flushed with enthusiasm.

Widening eyes and raised eyebrows.

Waving hands animatedly while talking.

Giggling or laughing uncontrollably.

Unable to sit still, shifting in their seat.

Heart racing with exhilaration.

Feet tapping or legs jiggling.

Practically vibrating with energy.

Exclaiming, "I can't believe it!" repeatedly.

Reaching out to touch or grab someone’s hand.

Dancing or spinning around.

Clutching their chest as if to contain the excitement.

Practicing or rehearsing what they’ll say or do.

Serial Killer!Daryl Dixon x Reader Smut: Teeth and Pearl earrings PT.2

Warnings: Serial killer Daryl, Daryl kills two men who tried to hurt you, rough smut, human hunting, hunting reader through woods, Daryl is mean cause killer (but soft after) NO noncon

Summary: Part two to the killer!Daryl fic. Reader finds out about Daryl's favorite pastime, and he hunts her down after she runs off.

Notes: Sorry this took so long I didn't have my adhd meds and I couldn't focus on it for more than five minutes at a time. Again, I tried to keep him as in character as possible.

Daryl was surprised, and a little annoyed by the fact his obsession with you had only grown after that. He'd hoped that he'd just fuck you and get over it, get back to his usual self and only occasionally need to go out and hunt. But you only made it worse, he found himself needing to go out hunting multiple times a week.

No one was complaining about his frequent outings though, each time he'd always come back with fresh kills and that was more food in their stomachs. Carol did make a comment about the fact she was cooking deer for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but he just retorted with some playful insult and she'd shoot him one right back. 

You had become scarce after that night, and over time Daryl seriously grew worried. Even though you were currently the object of his obsession, he still viewed you as someone important to him, despite the way you made him go insane. 

What was once an occasional late-night dick jerking session became an every night type deal, sometimes twice a night. The way you had acted like nothing ever happened between the two of you made it so much worse. 

He'd expected you to get attached after that, constantly trying to get him to follow you off into the woods again, but you were just your old self, sweet and friendly but reserved. 

Daryl fucking hated that. 

His frustration started making him sloppy, and desperate. He picked up his old habit of stalking you, always out of sight but always right behind you. He knew you were unaware, he'd taken every single precaution to avoid giving you even the slightest suspicion you were being watched. 

There was one day he had followed you into the small town down the road. He'd stick one street over, behind buildings and in deep alleys, only keeping you in his sight long enough to see which turn you'd make. 

It turned out his annoyance at your stupidity was warranted. You'd run into trouble, two men who'd been scavenging an old department store and saw you walking by. They'd followed you, just as he did, bewildered by your obliviousness, just as he was. 

He knew they had the worst intentions. Rob you, kidnap, assault, or even all three, but thankfully he never had to find out. Because apparently, you were smarter than you looked, or just very fucking lucky, because you'd lost them between a group of small shops. 

He watched as they tried to find you, stumped at you seeming to vanish in thin air, and he began hunting them instead. 

They were more aware of their surroundings than you had been with Daryl. They could sense him, even though they hadn't seen or heard him, they knew he was there. They quickly switched from predator to prey as they felt his presence, constantly looking over their shoulders and making attempts at getting away through alleys. 

He could practically taste their fear. Their whale eyes flashed around the street, looking at every shop window, every door, every trash can, and in their disoriented fear driven state they ran right into him. 

Daryl moved quickly, his hands grabbing a fistful of greasy brown hair and slamming it against the brick wall next to him. As the man fell over the second whirled to face him, ending up falling right onto Daryl's knife, a shout bursting from his horrified mouth. 

Drawing the blade from his stomach he drove it into his throat, muting any further screams. He then used his elbow to slide the man off his knife.

He watched as the man fell into shock, his hands grasping his throat in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Daryl simply watched, his eyes never leaving his face, soaking in the sensation of his hunger being satiated.

Once his legs finally gave out and he fell to his knees, Daryl turned his attention to the first man, who was slowly regaining consciousness. 

He bent down into a squat and slapped the flat of his blade against the man's cheek, forcing him back to his senses. 

The confusion in his narrowed eyes turned to wide unbridled anger. His lips pulled away from his teeth and he tried to sit upright, only to get a heavy boot to his chest, sending him smacking against the concrete. 

He didn't say anything, which was unusual for Daryl. They'd usually start with threats, insults, rage as they denied accepting the weight of their situation. Then they'd start trying to bargain with him, offer him food, guns, weapons, sometimes cars. And when Daryl wouldn't give them any type of response, only unnerving eye contact, they'd start begging. 

This man hadn’t said a damn word. He kept trying to get up, he'd scoot back away a few feet before Daryl's boot kicked him in the chest and sent him flailing down on his back again. 

“What do you want?” He finally broke the silent struggle, submitting and remaining on the concrete. 

Daryl looked down at the man with that same expressionless look on his face. After a few seconds of this he reached for the pack of cigarettes in his front shirt pocket, making the man beneath him dramatically flinch. 

As he lit the cigarette the man sputtered, trying to speak but unable to find the words. Daryl shoved the pack back in his pocket and took a deep pull, watching as he gave another attempt at getting away. 

This time he got a kick to the face. 

The pain from that alone sent the man into fight or flight. After he scrambled to his feet Daryl decided he'd had enough, and after grabbing the back of his shirt he plunged the knife into his back, drew it out, and sunk it back in in a different spot. 

Over and over he did this.

He left the man rolling on his back on the ground, his once gray tank top soon turning a dark red. 

In the hopes of maybe holding his urges off for longer, Daryl gave a few more stabs to the chest before swiping his knife clean on the dying man's jeans. He slipped it back in his belt and wiped his face with the back of his hand, only making the blood smear worse.

Daryl left the men there and made his way back to Alexandria, taking a deep and satisfying pull from his cigarette before the sight of your red sweater caught his eye.

He stopped in his tracks when his brain processed the image of you, his hand holding his cigarette a few inches from his lips. He felt like someone just pointed a remote at him and pressed pause, the only movement being the smoke curling up and away from his face.

You looked about the same. 

You had a look of shock on your face, but not the type you'd expect someone to have after witnessing a murder like that. You'd seen your fair share of people being killed, you'd had to do it yourself a few times before, but that was always a kill or be killed scenario. 

Those two men weren't trying to kill Daryl. 

You'd caught sight of them in the reflection of a store window and knew they were sneaking up on you, so you'd darted behind an old coffee shop and climbed up the ladder. Once you were sure you'd lost them you climbed down, walked past two shops and around a corner just in time to see Daryl repeatedly kicking the man to the ground, behaving like more of a leopard playing with mice. 

You'd watched the entire thing stretch on for what felt like hours, your eyes following every plunge of the knife, stabbing everywhere but the one place that would instantly dispatch that man. 

Neither of you moved for a few moments. You only finally reacted when a chunk of ash fell from Daryl's cigarettes, watching it as it floated to the ground, looking back up to his face when it landed with a puff on the sidewalk. 

“What was that?”

The innocent tone of your voice felt like he was the one who got stabbed in the chest. 

Daryl always had a perfect way of killing. He'd play his role as some dumbass redneck who looked super easy to take advantage of, and they fell for it every time. They'd try to rob him or attack him and only then did he react, grappling them with movements he'd perfected to the point of it being an art. He'd always made sure that if there was the slightest chance of Rick, Carol, or anyone in his group somehow seeing, it could be read as necessary self defense. 

But there was no way to explain away what he'd just done right out in the open, in broad daylight. Part of him wished it was Rick who'd seen him, not you, 

Rick was no stranger to the deep satisfaction killing bad people brought. But you? He remembered once back at the prison you'd been torn up for days after having to kill someone who'd been attacking you. And that was a quick bullet to the head to a man who wanted you dead. 

Finally, he took the cigarette back to his lips and took a pull before speaking. “They were gonna do worse to you.” 

You knew he wasn't lying. But by the look on your face you didn't accept that, that wasn't the real reason why. 

You inhaled deeply through your nose and looked off into the distance somewhere, Daryl could see the wheels turning behind your furrowed brow. He tried to remember all the excuses he used to think of when he was in the shower, running down every worst case scenario. 

“How many times have you done that?” Your unspecified question had him unsure of how to respond. You blinked in frustration before elaborating. “Killed someone you didn't need to like that. All emotionless.” 

“Lost count.” The boldness of his answer made you scoff.  He stepped forward till he was inches away, maintaining steadily intense eye contact. “You gonna do somethin’ bout it?” 

You weren't expecting him to challenge you so blatantly like that. Your jaw dropped as if you were about to speak, go off on him or lose your shit, but suddenly, it just didn't matter anymore. Maybe it was your brain trying to gaslight you into just moving away from the tense situation, but you closed your mouth and nodded once before turning on your heel. 

Daryl prepared himself for some speech about morals in the apocalypse but you spoke before he had the chance.

“We should get back, Carol's making soup for dinner.”

That night you had successfully rationalized what you'd seen Daryl doing(gaslit yourself). Those men were evil, if they had the upper hand or maybe more numbers they would've done worse than what Daryl did. Even though it wasn't a quick death, it was nothing compared to what they would've done to you. 

In the back of your mind though, you knew that wasn't the main reason for what he did to them. He'd shifted into a completely different being then, it wasn't human, or animal. He had become almost soulless, his actions so mechanical it looked like a set of commands he'd been wired to do. The way every single move was so calculated, the way he knew what they'd do before they did it, down to the way he cleaned the blood from his knife on their clothes. 

Your blood ran cold when you remembered that first night in the woods with Abraham and the others. The way you felt his presence behind you even though you never heard or saw him. That must have been what those men felt, the primal instinct that they were being watched. 

You felt stupid for thinking he was following you that night because he had a thing for you. You really didn't want to believe he was capable of hurting you, but that was hard when you could vividly remember how tight he squeezed your neck and the way he looked into your eyes when he did it. 

If you didn't have a good reason to avoid him before, you sure as hell did now. 

But you really didn't want to. 

Every night you'd think about it again, the specific details becoming blurry as you imagined him doing it differently. Your heart would speed up when you'd imagine yourself in their place, walking through the woods and becoming aware that you were being watched, your fear only growing worse when you'd look around and wouldn't see anyone, but the feeling of him drawing closer persisting nonetheless-

Your stomach dropped when you realized your body had reacted differently to the idea of that then you had normally. Your heart rate was fast, like usual, but instead of anxiety spreading in your chest you felt a deep flipping sensation in your core. 

It had been a few days since you saw him. You knew he was always there, inciting a deep and unsettling paranoia in you. 

Rick invited the inner group over for dinner and drinks. 

You smiled as he handed you a glass of red wine, that same sly smirk he always had for you on his face. You were standing against the wall of his living room while the later arrivals finished their meal in the dining room. 

“You've been quiet.” Rick's voice had once been enough to soothe any anxiety that you might've had. But now it did little, akin to the background humming of indifferent frogs and crickets. 

His voice called your name and you forced yourself to look up to his face, nearly crying at the sight. You wished you could tell him everything, weep into his arms and have him shush away your worries, explain it all away and go back to the way things were. 

His expression grew serious then. “You okay?”

“Have you ever…” You glanced around to make sure there were no eyes on you. Everyone was minding their own business, chattering happily as they enjoyed Rick's spaghetti and wine. 

“Killed someone you didn't have to kill?” Your quiet voice had his posture stiffening. He shifted his feet as he nodded, mulling over your words before he spoke. 

“We've all done things we're ashamed of. If it's in the past, let it rot there. Nothin' you can do to change it.”

“Have you?”

It took him a while to answer. He inhaled deeply through his nose before leaning in closer to you, his tone darker. “Why are you asking me?”

“Someone here did that. Two men. They were bad men, but… they were trying to run away.”

“Then they did the right thing. Those men could've easily come back with more people.”

You sighed, shifting closer to him. By now you were only inches away from each other, and you could smell the cologne he'd put on before dinner. “He looked like he liked doing it. It wasn't… quick.”

Rick eyed you for a few silent moments. 

“Daryl.” It wasn't a question, he already knew the answer. You looked up to him, your eyes wide and worried now, but he settled you with a firm glare. 

“Sometimes a man does things that you don't need to worry about.” He spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “All you need to know is he protects you, and keeps your belly full. Alright?” 

You didn't know how to feel about learning that Rick knew. He didn't know the full extent, no one did, no one knew about the trophies and the hunting, or the meticulous planning that went into Daryl's killing. 

“Alright.” For some reason, it sets you at ease. If your leader said it was fine, then it had to be fine with you.

Rick's expression softened and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder to give you a comforting squeeze. You melted into his touch and closed your eyes, trying your best to ignore the burning on the side of your face from the hunter in the corner of the room.

The air was unusually cold.

You tried to steady your breathing as you walked through the familiar forest outside Alexandria. 

You couldn't feel him yet, but in your bones you could sense it, almost like he had a tracking tag on him that would make your heart race faster and faster as he drew closer. 

If you concentrated hard enough you could imagine him in real time, right about now he'd just be getting into the woods, picking up your tail-

The bolt of anxiety that went through your chest at the image had you picking up your pace, walking faster down the familiar path that eventually led to a river. 

It wasn't long before you felt it. You looked over your shoulder at the scene behind you. The forest floor, covered in dead leaves, the thin trees with gray bark that were randomly spaced out, and nothing else. Your eyes burned as you tried to see as far off into the distance as possible. Nothing. You couldn't even hear the normal wildlife, no birds, crickets, cicadas. 

You turned back around and pulled the sleeves of your black turtleneck down over your cold wrists. 

The feeling grew stronger as you walked on. The sun was setting, the normal bright yellow light fading into a gentler orange. 

It started with the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You'd turn around and see the same nothingness as before, only this time not being able to see as far due to the setting sun. 

The overwhelming urge to run overcame you and you looked over your shoulder again, your stomach falling ten stories when you saw nothing. That was worse than seeing him lurking behind. At least if you could see him, you'd know where he was. He could be anywhere. Your breath trembled and you resisted the screaming in your body to run, but the sound of a stick cracking had you breaking into a jog. 

He was close now, you could feel it. You didn't turn around anymore, you couldn't, if you once again were met with nothing you'd start losing your sanity. 

Soon it would be too dark to see. The idea of trying to hide from him in the pitch black forest had you running, and you didn't stop until it was too dark for you to do so without tripping. 

You caught your breath behind a large oak and waited. The silence was starting to get to you. Where the hell were all the birds? The cicadas that are always screaming this time of year? 

Where the hell were the walkers?

It was dark now. You looked ahead of you and felt like you'd fallen into a deep freezing cold lake, your vision had dramatically decreased to around five yards in front of you. It was getting dark so fast, the silence only seemed to be growing louder, you began to doubt yourself, you were way in over your head, what were you thinking? You were the only person alive who saw Daryl Dixon stab a man to death, a man that was actively trying to escape, just because of what he might have done, and YOU thought it was a good idea to play hide and seek in the woods with him? 

You waited too long. By the time you heard the distinct sound of featherlight footsteps it was too dark, you couldn't see anything. When you looked up you couldn't even see the moon or any stars, were the trees too thick? You didn't see any clouds that day, your head spun and you tripped over your feet the second you tried to step forward. 

Adrenaline surged through your body at the animalistic fear of being vulnerable around an unseen danger. You scrambled to your feet and froze, your eyes as wide as they could be in hopes of being able to see better. 

To your left you could barely see the backdrop of the dark blue sky behind the trees. You turned in a circle, and tried to look back to the sky, but in your turning you'd completely disoriented yourself. The way you'd come was just as lost as what was once your left. 

You felt a coldness run deep in your bones when you realized you had no idea which way Daryl was. 

If this was some innocent game of hide and seek you'd complain about the unfair advantage he had over you, most of his life he'd spent out in woods just like these. 

In a last ditch effort of self preservation you remained still, kept your eyes open and unblinking, and listened. 

Nothing. You couldn't hear a single fucking thing. If not for the sound of your own breathing you'd wonder if you'd gone deaf without even realizing it. You raised your hand in front of your face and blinked hard a few times, trying to will your eyes to become as good as Daryl's. 

Time ticked by no matter what you did. Without anything for you to hear or see it became harder to keep your balance, and your arms slowly lifted from your side to steady yourself. 

Your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft. You felt a brief tingle of confusion before all at once your heart leapt into your throat and your stomach dropped to your feet when you came to the horrifying realization of what you just touched.

Fingers. 

You snatched your hand away like you'd been stung, and with how fast you did it, you spun and fell to your knees. Your body couldn't react quick enough, you could hear leaves from what sounded like every direction, and you froze. 

Was that even Daryl?

You hadn't even seen him for sure, you had no proof whatsoever, not even a hint to go by, those could be walkers. For all you knew, Daryl could be back in Alexandria skinning a deer for dinner, clueless to your absence. 

You felt a different kind of fear as your mind dug yourself deeper and deeper. All you had on you was a comically small machete and a pathetic little flashlight. You'd imagined this going very differently, which was your own damn fault. You should've learned by now you couldn't predict anything about Daryl. He'd shown you that time and time again. 

You were too busy thinking about how stupid you were to notice the silence was back. But once you did, you forced yourself to your feet, and pushed on. Your arms reached out blindly in front of you as you took baby steps, trying not to gasp each time your fingertips grazed a tree. 

It took everything in you not to scream when you felt it again. A hand, but instead of reaching out to meet your outstretched hand, it ghosted up the small of your back. You whirled around and reached out, desperately trying to grab a sleeve, a finger, anything to pull yourself to, like the ladder in a swimming pool. 

Being met with empty black air almost brought you to tears. You lurched forward, trying to predict his position, but just as silently as he arrived he had sunk out of reach. 

You were ready to beg. You were wrong, you didn't want this, you were so fucking scared.

Just as you began to work up the courage to speak, your feet flew out from under you as you were shoved in the chest, hard. A dull pain shot through your ass and you kicked your feet in the dirt in front of you, pushing yourself away from his direction. But he was five steps ahead, his fingers grazing the top of your scalp. 

You yelped, spinning around to get up on your knees, not even managing to get one foot on the ground before you were shoved back in the dirt again. 

Something about that final push set you into fight or flight, so you got to your feet and ran. 

Daryl was right about your ridiculous luck. You made it pretty far before you ran into a tree, smacking into it with the edge of your shoulder so hard it spun you around again. Once again you had no idea which direction he was in so you got up, and tried again. 

Apparently he'd grown tired of toying with you. You'd managed to run about twelve feet when your only information of his location was the sound of heavy footsteps running after you. 

The realization he was fucking chasing you, full on running, terrified you so badly you found yourself unable to form thoughts anymore, your brain turned off as your body did everything possible to survive. 

You managed to surprise him. Instead of continuing straight you veered to the left, which would have been a very impressive feat had you not run into another tree. This one was huge, and thankfully you had slowed down enough that you didn't hurt yourself running into it, but it did scare the fuck out of you. 

You used your hands on the trunk to guide you, shimmying around the edge until you were pressed on the other side, your back flush against it.  You held your breath and waited, not daring to make a single sound. 

That feeling happened again. He was looking at you, but you didn't know where. Your eyes were utterly useless but you still looked frantically in every direction, only being met with utter blackness. 

There was nothing you could do. A small part of you felt relieved, at least you didn't have to try so hard anymore. Slowly, you let out your lungful of air, trying to be quiet. But it wasn't getting out fast enough and your lips opened against your will, causing you to shudder out a terrified breath. 

He had been two feet in front of you for a while now. His eyes, although not superhuman, had over time adjusted enough to find his way through dark woods like these. He could see the outline of nearby trees, and the figure of your body pressed up against one. 

The silence had quickly become something the two of you were extremely used to. So when there was a sudden shift in the air followed by wind shifting the leaves of trees above you, it startled you both. 

The sound of leaves moving right in front of you sets you off again. You prepare to make a break to the left, but unbeknownst to you, Daryl could see the way you angled your body, your right leg braced behind you. 

He smirked and threw out his foot right as you bolted forward. Your legs flew out from under you and you landed hard on your stomach, the air being knocked from your lungs. 

Daryl watched as you tried unsuccessfully to breathe again, your lungs spasming before finally snapping back to normal. You greedily gulped in air and weakly attempted to roll over on your side. 

He crouched next to you and reached out, using the back of his knuckle to brush hair from your forehead. You jerked violently, your hands flying up to try and fight him away. That made him chuckle, and you felt a whole new rage of emotions after having his identity confirmed. 

It really was Daryl. If that was a good thing or a bad thing you weren't sure of yet, but at least you knew for sure it was him. 

“What'd you think was gonna happen, huh?” He muttered, his hand grabbing your wrist and yanking it from your face. “Go off in the woods alone again, start runnin’ in the dark, ain't nobody tell you runnin’ just makes things wanna chase you?”

The more he spoke the more aggressive he became, his other hand latching onto your other wrist to hold you firmly in place. It didn't stop you from struggling, which only made his prey drive even more active. 

“What are you gonna do?” Your voice and the way it trembled made his upper lip twitch. He stared down at your face, another sick grin forming when he saw you grow more and more terrified the longer the silence stretched on. 

“Daryl, please.” 

The grin fell from his face then, something about the way you sounded like you were about to cry setting his teeth on edge. He let go of your wrists and ran the back of his knuckles down the side of your face, his touch tender. He saw you relax a little at that and he leaned down, brushing his lips so lightly against yours you could've mistaken it for the wind.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You breathed and nodded softly; the fear of dying being replaced by a delicious different kind of terror. This could easily become an addiction.

His gentle actions slowly hardened as his fingertips trailed down from your cheek to your jaw, the pressure increasing until he reached your throat, where his hand slipped into that perfect fit around your neck. 

“I think you need a little wakeup call princess, you don't get to tease me like this and change your mind cause you get scared.” He said the last word like an insult, as if it was a ridiculous fuck up on your end. 

“Shit don't work like that anymore.” His tone took this edge of meanness, something that made your lower stomach flip. 

Your chest fluttered with your shaky breathing, and you nodded, filling him with a deep satisfaction. He squeezed his hand around your neck with no warning, no slow increase in pressure, just an immediate white knuckled squeeze. 

Right as you saw little flashes of white at the edges of your vision he relaxed his hand, but he kept it there like some kind of warning. 

He released his hand and replaced it with something cold, your mouth dried instantly when you realized it was his knife. 

“Get up.” 

You slowly stood with him, making sure to let him guide where your head went, not wanting to risk getting nicked. 

Then it was like he disappeared. 

You waited a few moments, your eyes flickering around the different shades of black. 

A bright orange glow had your pupils dilating painfully. After being in pitch black darkness for so long the small flame from his lighter felt like staring into the sun. 

He looked terrifying then. His cigarette between his lips and his cheeks dipped in as he pulled in to help the tobacco light. His eyes flicked up to you for less than a second before he snapped the lighter closed and you were left with an orange dot where his face once was. 

You stood in the same spot, not daring to breathe, your eyes locked on the orange dot as it moved from his lips to down at his side. You weren't sure what he was expecting of you, so you remained standing as long as he felt like torturing you. 

A minute later the orange orb vanished with a hiss as he put it out on his boot. You heard the light tap of it falling in the dirt, where he proceeded to grind it with his shoe. You deeply missed that orange dot, it gave you something to focus on in the black void. 

His hands were rough as he grabbed your shoulders and turned you around. You gasped at the sudden roughness, your heart jumping after standing in silent nothingness for so long. The knife was back on your throat, his other hand slipping up under your turtleneck. 

“What you saw the other day,” His breath was hot against the shell of your ear as his hand groped and squeezed your sides, growing more firm as he slid it up to your breasts. “Can't have anyone knowin’ ‘bout it.” 

Your first instinct was to nod, but the blade against the side of your throat made you think twice. “Mhm. I know.” You hummed out your anxious promise, your hands clinging onto his forearm for dear life. 

“I don't think you do.” His voice was calm and steady, the opposite of the angry way he pinched your nipple. Your whine caught in your throat and you clenched your teeth, baring them in a pained grimace, much like a submissive animal.

“You're a stupid bitch,” Those words held so much fiery emotion despite how cool and collected he sounded. You swallowed a whimper as he went on, “but you ain't dumb enough to go and open your mouth.” 

He didn't appreciate your lack of response, you'd been frozen from the way his hand had dipped under the waistband of your jeans, fingers barely grazing your panties. 

“Makin’ me think I might be wrong.” He growled and pressed the knife firmer against your neck, and you immediately snapped out of it.

“You're not. I won't, I promise.” Your ass moved against the hard dick beneath his jeans, making him hiss out a curse. 

In this game the two of you played, he had a level of excitement and vigor that was previously unknown to him. He rested his forehead on the back of your head and inhaled deeply, holding the flowery scent of your shampoo in his lungs like it’d get him high.

He loved the way you played this role so perfectly. Growing up watching slasher movies through puberty wasn't the sole reason for his degeneracy, but it played a large role. Drifting around selling drugs with Merle to unsavory people added to it too. 

Daryl finally dipped his fingers under your panties, taking his sweet time rubbing circles in the skin all the way down to your slit. When he felt how wet you were he sucked in a gasp before he could stop himself. You'd been working that up for a while. By the way your panties were soaked, he'd guess you got all worked up the second you slipped out of Alexandria.

Your grip on his forehead tightened as he stroked your clit, swirling his finger around a few times before dipping down through your folds. 

Without meaning to you held your breath in anticipation, begging to any higher power to have him go easy on you. You couldn't take another night like before, especially not in the middle of the woods. You strongly believed that when he finished with you and saw the state you were in, he'd just leave you to find your own way back when you stopped being a pathetic mess. 

Your prayers were answered and he angled his hand in a way that allowed him to push his middle finger inside you, your walls greedily squeezing around him. Now that you were pretty sure he wouldn't actually kill you, you allowed yourself to enjoy every drop of pleasure he'd give you. 

You moaned shamelessly when he shocked you by not just driving it in and out, but he fucking curled his finger.

“You bring any walkers over here and I'll leave your ass in the dark.” His tone held a venomous bite, but you were fairly certain he wouldn't actually do that. You weren't taking any chances though so you pressed your lips tightly together and tried to steady your breathing through your nose.

His head bumped gently against yours as he moved his attention to the top of your ear, his lips warm against the cold skin there. You nearly crumpled in his arms at the feeling, and when his tongue traced the tip of your ear you physically shuddered against his chest. He trailed a few kisses from your ear to the back of your neck, giving into his impulsives and sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder. 

It took every ounce of concentration to remain quiet. He couldn't tease you like this, do every little trick in the foreplay handbook, and expect you to keep quiet? 

His finger curled again the second time, sending a jolt through your core and down your legs. When he felt your nails dig into his forearm he nudged your head again with his, tilting you so he could press his cheek against yours. 

If not for his hand down the front of your jeans and the knife he had on your neck, you would've passed for a sappy couple posing for pictures. 

Just as you'd relaxed against his chest, your head tilting back to rest against his collarbone, he started curling his finger at a consistent pace. You whined deep in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut against the frustration of pleasure, but not enough. 

His hand pulled out from your jeans so suddenly you actually made a genuine whiney noise, already frustrated and impatient. The knife returned to its former deep pressure, immediately setting you straight. 

He popped open the buttons on your pants and pulled down one side, bending his knees to pull them down over your ass, making you awkwardly twist and bend with him. 

Your body reacted subliminally to the sound of his buckle clinking as he unbuckled his belt, your back arching to press yourself closer against him. His breathing had ever so slightly gotten heavier while he worked to take his dick out, his mouth sending hot puffs of air against your ear. Your pussy throbbed at the feeling, and even more so when you felt his swollen tip bob between your legs after he freed it from his pants. 

You were lucky Daryl wasn't in the mood to take longer than necessary to fuck you. It was a bit selfish on his part, he no longer cared about your pleasure, instead choosing to solely make himself cum with your pussy. Made no difference to him if you came or not. The wind carried the faint smell of rain and he could hear the beginning rumble of thunder in the distance. 

He spit on his fingertips and slathered it over his tip, tugging on his dick a few times before guiding himself to your hole. Just as greedy as before, he pushed inside you, slapping his hand over your mouth to muffle your whines of discomfort.

Daryl's downstairs department was nothing to make light of, he was blessed with a heavy dick that was the perfect length to fill you completely so not a single millimeter of space was untouched. 

But Christ, the girth, he didn't have the type of dick he could just slide in you without giving you a stretch that burned. Unfortunately for you, he didn't really care that much, it went away after a minute and didn't feel like a big deal to him. 

You groaned into his palm, your eyes rolling back into your head when he immediately set a rough pace. The angle he fucked you in, standing upright with your ass stuck out for him, it had his tip slamming into that perfect spot every single thrust. 

The knife suddenly fell from his fingers, landing on your boot with a thump, but before you could react his hand quickly replaced it. His left arm wrapped around your waist, using it to keep your hips angled in towards him. With his right hand he squeezed your neck, gradually increasing pressure until he felt your hands on his arm start to loosen their grip. 

He released the pressure, the oxygen and blood returning to your brain to give you an amazing head rush. He waited until he felt your nails dig back into his skin before squeezing again, repeatedly bringing you to the brink of unconsciousness before letting you come crashing back down to earth. 

With the arm he had around your waist he moved his fingers over your lower stomach, feeling around for a moment before pressing the flat of his hand down right where he felt his dick. 

You sucked in a sharp gasp at the feeling, wondering where the hell he learned that, you knew he hadn't fucked anyone ever since you'd known him. And with the way he was when you first met him in Atlanta, you seriously doubt he was experienced enough to know how to do something like that. 

Daryl was a lot more simple than you were trying to figure out, he just liked the way he could feel his dick moving if he pressed down hard enough and fucked you deep enough.  The fact it felt amazing was just a lucky side effect for you. 

The next time he started choking you he squeezed a little tighter, the feeling of your throat shifting under his palm had him growling curses into the crook of your neck. Your back arched harder, your body desperate to feel him deeper. Him fucking you fast and hard, coupled with the way his grip on your neck kept cutting off blood to your head, suddenly became way too much and you came around his dick, your walls squeezing and holding onto his length with all its might. 

Daryl felt his eyes roll back in his head and his dick twitch at the feeling. “That's it girl.” He muttered out encouragement, knowing he needed you to hold out a few more minutes. If you got all whiney and weak like last time he'd have to stuff his shirt in your mouth. He was already lucky enough that somehow there were no walkers nearby, he couldn't take the chance to try and push his luck. 

His encouragement worked, your body melting against him as you soaked in the rare praise. 

“Yeah, that's it. Atta girl.” His voice was so low and deep you could feel it vibrate in his chest against the top of your back, sending little sparks of pleasure through your core. 

He picked up the pace, his hand falling from your neck to grab both sides of your hips. Carefully, and slowly, he guided you down to your knees, keeping his dick inside you as you both knelt in the dirt. He put his hands on your upper back and pushed, forcing your arms out from under you so the side of your face was on the ground. 

The feeling of his large rough hands pushing your back down had your stomach tightening again, and it only got worse when he shifted your ass higher up against his pelvis. He was back to his earlier pace in no time, thrusting hard and fast, one hand still pushing down on your back while the other did the same to the side of your head. 

It got harder to keep quiet the longer he went on. When he suddenly grabbed your ass and held it tight against him, forcing his dick in deeper, you came unexpectedly, breathing so hard it sent the dirt next to your face poofing away. You clenched down on him again, your back arching obscenely, and rode the dizzy waves of your orgasm, quickly forcing him to have one of his own. 

Daryl spit out a growl and slammed into you a few last times before he came, his grip on your hips keeping you immobile as he emptied himself inside you. Even after you twitched from the last bit of your orgasm and started moving to get up, he grabbed hold of your hair and smashed your head back down. Maybe it was a power move, because he held you down like that for a while, his dick buried so deep inside you his cum wasn't able to trickle out yet. 

You waited what felt like five minutes before you spoke up, your voice hoarse from all the heavy mouth breathing. “Daryl?”

He barely let you finish the L in his name before he cut you off. “Shut the hell up.” He muttered, his heavy hand still pressed against your face and the other holding your hips tightly against his. 

He would've been content to stay like that for a while, just to torture you some more, maybe keep you there under him until his dick got hard again. But the rumble of thunder was getting closer, and he didn't feel like getting caught out in a storm. 

When he finally released his grip on your hair and waist you sighed in relief, lifting your face from the ground to brush the dirt from your cheek. He pulled his softened dick from you and groaned when he felt the cool air on his sensitive skin. 

You were dreading getting up and the walk home when you heard the familiar hissing and groaning of a nearby walker. You pulled up your pants as slowly and quietly as humanly possible, your eyes still trying with all their might to see in the dark forest. 

Daryl clicked on a flashlight for a split second, just long enough to catch the location of the walker.

In a bright white flash you saw three of them about ten yards out. Your moaning must've attracted them, and your stomach twisted when you remembered Daryl threatening to leave you there if you drew any walkers over. 

A large warm hand slipped into yours and he helped you to your feet. It was so kind that you were almost more concerned with the action than the fact you were in pitch black darkness with three walkers heading your way. 

He slung his crossbow over from his back and clicked the flashlight on again, only for a split second. They weren't much closer. He took them out, clicked the light again, and saw a handful more far, far back. You could definitely outwalk them. You sighed in relief and wiped the dirt from your palms and face. 

“Can you walk?” He whispered as he slung his weapon back over his shoulder, slipping his flashlight in his front jean pocket. 

“Yeah, I'm fine.” You whispered in return and took his hand again, trying not to let silly childish emotions start clouding your mind. You weren't some teen girl with her first real boyfriend, you were a woman holding the hand of a cold man who killed for pleasure, a man that just hunted you through the woods like you were some fox or cougar. And he was freakishly good at it. 

He led you back to Alexandria in a way that harshly contrasted his normal exterior. His hand was gentle but firm and he didn't rush you, not once. Even when you snuck back through the back wall he stayed with you, albeit letting go of your hand. He took you to your house, made sure you got in safe, and did something at the door that had your heart pounding even more than when he chased you. 

Daryl looked at you for a moment, uncertainty clear on his face. You could tell he was thinking of hundreds of different things at once, and it kind of looked like he was nervous. 

He leaned in and placed his open hand at the base of your neck. Not squeezing, not grabbing or clenching, he just barely cupped your skin, his thumb tracing against the red and purple marks from his hands and teeth. You'd covered the last ones up with makeup, you could do the same with these. 

You opened your mouth to reassure him of this but he leaned in, and kissed your forehead. 

Then he pressed his forehead against yours. Your heart was racing painfully at this point. You watched as he looked into your eyes for a second before he closed them. You followed suit and closed your eyes, savoring the intense affection. It was so strange to you. You couldn't remember the last man or woman you'd been like this with. And the fact it was Daryl Dixon pressing his forehead against yours, right in the doorframe of your front door…

You decided then you didn't give a shit what he did for fun. You didn't give a shit if he felt the same way either. Maybe you could delude yourself into thinking that one day. You decided right then you'd walk through hell and back to get just a taste of this feeling again. 

The feeling of his hand unfolding hours had you opening your weary eyes. You looked down and blinked, seeing a small white dot in the palm of your hand. He drew away from you then, muttering a quick ‘found this earlier’ before fading down the stairs and up the street to his house. 

You rubbed your finger over your pearl earring and smiled. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial

Isolation Starters

"Your friends are a bad influence on you."

"Why do you even need anyone else when you have me?"

"Your family doesn’t really care about you."

"You should spend more time with me instead."

"They’re just jealous of us."

"I don’t like it when you hang out with them."

"You don’t need them in your life."

"They don’t understand you like I do."

"Why are you always with them and not with me?"

"They’re just trying to come between us."

"You’re better off without them."

"I’m the only one who truly loves you."

"They’re talking behind your back."

"Why do you trust them over me?"

"I don’t want you to see them anymore."

"They don’t have your best interests at heart."

"They’re trying to ruin our relationship."

"You’re not allowed to see them."

"I’m all you need."

"They don’t appreciate you like I do."

Serial Killer!Daryl Dixon x Reader Smut: Teeth and Pearl earrings

Warnings: serial killer daryl, rough smut, inconsiderate smut, no noncon, stalking, stealing, mentions of killing

Summary: Daryl can't decide if he wants to kill you, or fuck you. Switches between Daryl's and Readers POV.

Notes: SO SORRY ITS LONG This was really fun but really challenging to write, I tried to keep him as in character as possible, but that's hard when making him a serial killer lol! I'm making this a two pt, with the reader finding out in the next part.

Some days Daryl thought his luck might run out. He'd been lucky for too long. As far as he knew, no one suspected a thing. Every time he'd go out “hunting”, no matter how long he was gone for, he'd always managed to bring back something. Deer, rabbits, squirrels when prey was scarce. 

It was easier now that the world had ended to keep it a secret. No threat of cops catching on, no more cameras on every street corner, no need to try to erase every possible trace.

The only thing he found to prove difficult had been finding a place to keep his trophies. He didn't really have a preference, hair, a tooth, or a piece of clothing, it was something he didn't understand the meaning of but something he did each time. He kept it in his room in the vent above his bed, behind a few boxes of books. The week prior he took it down to put the wedding ring of a man who tried attacking Rick out on their supply run, he’d had to restrain himself and keep the stabbing to a minimum because of Rick's presence. 

He found himself growing uncomfortably interested in you. A revelation that he really, really didn't like. You were off limits, you were one of Rick's closest friends, you'd been there way too long. And you clearly hadn't done anything deserving of the things he daydreamed about doing to you, unlike the victims he’d killed before..

The more he tried to push those thoughts away, the stronger they came back. His hands around your throat, the way your eyes would tear up as you struggled against him and the fact someone you trusted so much was the one ending your life. 

His eyes followed you over the flames of the campfire as you took your plates and went inside. Aaron had hosted a little get together in his yard in Alexandria, cooking dinner for everyone in celebration of the newest addition to the town. Some nobody he found out there on their own, who jumped at the idea of joining a large group of people. 

If Daryl had to kill you, he’d keep a lock of your hair. 

He couldn't stop staring at it as you went inside. His mind flooded with flashes of pictures of it, his hand in it, stroking your soft locks before grabbing a fistful and putting a knife to your throat. The way you'd squeal and beg, squirm against him as he presses the edge firmer into your skin. 

He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away after you disappeared in the house you shared with Maggie and a few others. 

It was like you were practically begging him to follow you. 

Five different times that week you'd gone out on your own to ‘clear your head’, whatever the hell that meant. 

First time he heard Glenn mention to someone that you'd just gone out beyond the walls, he wanted to follow you. The idea was far too tempting. But he didn't, he knew damn well he couldn't trust himself with you all alone, no one to hear you scream. 

The fantasies he had begun to form disgusted him. He didn't just go out and kill any random human he felt like, he had to have some sort of rules or else things would get out of hand real fast. If he were to get caught, it needed to be someone Rick wouldn't think twice about him killing. Some raider, or any kind of piece of shit who'd be a threat to their group. He needed to have a fallback, worst case scenario one of Alexandria caught him. 

Second rule, none of his people. Ever. His morals were questionable, if he had it his way he'd go out and hunt down any human he came across outside those walls.

But never his people. In a hypocritical way he did care about them, in the same way that any normal sane human being would care about their family. He could never even dream about hurting any of them, he’d rather die. But they had to earn that place in his heart. 

It was a wonder you hadn't been killed by anyone else yet. The way you walked through the woods with your light pink sweater, leaving tracks in the leaves that a blind man could follow, and that fucking humming. He could easily track you with his eyes closed for miles with the way you kept humming. 

You'd gone into an old shack in the backyard of an abandoned trailer.

A part of him felt angry then, how were you so stupid? If it had been someone else following you, and not Daryl, who knows what they'd do to you? And you'd have no idea until it was too late. 

He paused at the thought. If he wasn't careful, that's exactly what would happen. 

He followed you home about half a mile behind the entire time. When you were at the road that led to the gates he turned back, deciding it was the perfect time to go hunting. 

The crossbow on his back weighed heavier than it normally did as he slunk down into the underbrush at the forest's edge. He hadn't decided on what animal yet, but the frustration and confusion alone caused by you made it pretty easy to guess. 

He wiped the blood from the molar before he tucked it in the box in his vent, and decided to pay Maggie and Glenn a visit.

The house was completely empty, so he let his curiosity get the better of him.

Your room was pretty. 

Your bed, a whopping full size mattress, made his pull out look like a military cot. You had an array of paintings on your walls, he remembered some of them. As soon as you got your own room in Alexandria you went out on runs with Glenn and Maggie just so you could decorate it. 

His eyes went from painting to painting, then to your dresser. You kept it unexpectedly neat for someone who behaved so sloppily in the woods. Your journal, a small glass box you kept your sentimental jewelry in, a few makeup products. What drew his attention was the jewelry box, he could see the pair of pearl earrings you used to constantly wear. You never took them out back then, not even to sleep. 

Orange bled into a dark purple against his face and he blinked, coming back to himself in front of your bedroom window. A strange confusion twisted in his gut when he realized he'd just been standing there, staring out your window for so long the sun had set.

You weren't stupid, or blind. 

You'd have to be a fool to not notice the way Daryl had been taking interest in you. 

There'd been several times in Alexandria where you'd be busy doing something, turn around and see him standing off in the distance, staring at you like fuckin’ Michael Myers. 

If you'd go on runs and he came with you, you'd often glance at him to see him already looking. He'd always look away, pull out a cigarette and act like he wasn't just burning holes in the back of your head. 

You'd come to the obvious conclusion that he had a crush on you. 

What else could it be? You'd always thought he was really hot, men like that were hard to come by. Quiet, observant, strong as hell, he’d do anything for the people he loved and he wasn't an annoying pervert who'd suddenly turn into an asshole if you rejected him. Not that you'd ever reject him. 

Each time you caught him staring your heart would race and you'd try to give a friendly smile, but apparently he was too shy for that. Which sucked, because of all the men you could have the hots for, Daryl was the most unapproachable and intimidating. 

“Hey, have you guys seen an earring laying around anywhere?” You asked at dinner, glancing around the table. Carol had invited the inner group over for dinner, she'd made pasta and cookies. 

You could never get enough of Carol's cookies. 

“What's it look like?” Maggie asked beside Glenn, the two of them looking at you thoughtfully from across the table. 

“Just a pearl earring. The one's I always used to wear.” You took a sip of your sweet tea, looking at the other faces to see if any of them had a split second look of recognition. 

“Not that I can remember.” Glenn cleared his throat and shook his head after swallowing a heavy mouthful of alfredo pasta. 

“I'll keep an eye out for it.” Rick tipped his head to you, nodding slightly before continuing eating. You smiled in return, knowing if anyone was likely to find it, it’d be him. 

He'd grown very fond of you recently, the image of you had shifted in his head from another person he was responsible for, to a dear friend he could trust with his life. Mostly due to the way you were still Carl, always doing your best to be a figure of comfort to him. Not as close as he'd grown to Michonne, but more of a young aunt who takes too much interest in art and jewelry.

“I haven't seen you wear those in a while.” Carl spoke up. 

You sighed when no one had any leads. “Yeah, I know. Just been worried about losing them, they're pretty important.” You took the last bite of your cookie, dusting your hands together before speaking again. “It's really weird, they were both in my jewelry box last time I checked, but this morning there was only one.” 

“You think someone stole one?” Carol's voice held a tight tone of suspicion, her eyes narrowing so slightly you could've missed it if you blinked. 

“No, I mean, no one goes in our house besides you all. And I know none of you care about a single earring.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek in deep thought. 

You felt that familiar sensation of warmth on your cheek, like someone had a hot iron near you. 

You turned your head to your left, met with Daryl's eyes from his spot at the end of the other side of the table. 

To your surprise he didn't look away like he usually did. He kept his gaze steady, his elbows propped on the table and his hands clasped together in front of his mouth. 

You didn't feel butterflies like usual, and your cheeks burned for a different reason. For the first time you were the one to look away. 

Rick had put together a group to scout out further into town for more resources. The usual suspects, Aaron, Sasha, Rosita, Abraham, Daryl and of course, you.

He hadn't made up his mind on if he was glad or not. He'd been stupid, feeding the sparks of his mild obsession, and that pretty little pearl earring he kept in his jeans pocket felt like twenty pounds of red-hot metal.

They'd set up camp for the night in the woods right on the outskirts of town. Abraham had set up mediocre sound traps around the small clearing, and Daryl couldn't help but snort when you walked right into one and the cans failed to clash together. 

Fire was a dumb idea too. 

Daryl had started to remember why he preferred being alone. Aaron was too used to the safety of the Alexandria walls. 

Abraham told him he'd better put it out after dark, also throwing in a passive aggressive insult, and Aaron stuttered out an agreement. 

It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes off you. He sat across the fire from you, watching you smile and laugh and joke with Rosita like you were two young girls in summer camp.

As the flames of his fixation on you grew, so did his confliction. 

He had no problems with you. He'd barely even paid attention to you before you'd arrived at Alexandria, you were just another background character in his story that wouldn't make a difference if you died or not. But you'd grown close to Rick and Maggie, two people he cared about. So by extension, he cared about you too. 

He wasn't sure when it started. It kind of just happened over time.

He was always an outside observer, keeping details of each person he knew on a list in his mind. 

But you, he couldn't think of any reason you'd be so special. It was obvious you were smoking hot, he wasn't blind. But he'd seen his share of beautiful women. Maybe it was the fact you seemed to always have luck on your side, you could go out singing in the woods and never run into any trouble. 

If the two of you weren't careful, that luck might change tonight. 

Abraham and Aaron were busy looking at a map of the town and figuring out what pathing they'd take in the morning. Sasha and Rosita were sitting on their bedrolls cleaning their guns and talking about meaningless things, he didn't care enough to listen. 

You were the odd man out. Just like him. 

Sitting in the dirt on the other side of the fire, fidgeting with a stick in front of you while you thought. 

He could tell you knew he was staring at you again. And judging by the way you were forcing yourself to keep your eyes on the stick you were drawing circles in the dirt with, you were trying your best not to look up. 

He didn't expect you to look up. He almost let the confusion show on his face, caught off guard by his incorrect prediction. He saw the way your cheeks flushed even though the light of the fire made your face glow orange. He flared his nostrils at the sight, why'd you have to make it so damn hard?

His heart dropped when you suddenly stood and walked off into the woods. 

No one had even noticed, too wrapped up in their conversations. Another thing that succeeded in his self restraint slipping away. 

Daryl followed after counting three minutes in his head. He'd really hoped you'd come back before then, praying you'd be lucky enough to slip back through the trees before he got to his feet. 

It was dark in the woods away from the campfire. 

He could hear you a few yards ahead, your boots crunching lightly on leaves despite your attempts at being quiet. 

He kept his distance, just following the sounds of your footsteps and the slight silhouette of your body, the moonlight seeping through the treetops barely grazing your hair and shoulders. 

This was way too natural to him. 

Now out here you were just like any other victim, but it brought him comfort knowing there'd be no way he could hurt you and get away with it. The two of you disappear off into the woods at night and only Daryl comes back? He might think the people around the fire made stupid decisions sometimes, but they weren't stupid enough to not be suspicious of him. 

Maybe he could say walkers got you. 

He clenched his jaw when he realized he was at such a desperate point that an idea that stupid even crossed his mind. 

“Daryl?”

The sound of your sweet voice made him physically recoil, his hand falling from the knife in his belt that he didn't realize he'd been gripping. 

He could barely make out your figure in front of him. You were facing him, maybe six feet away, standing underneath a large pine tree. 

There was no use in hiding. Your eyes would've adjusted enough by now to see the shape of him. 

Finally, he answered, his voice coming out in more of a growl than a human speaking. “Shouldn't be out here alone.” 

There was silence before you filled it with the crunching of your footsteps moving towards him. 

His body tensed as you drew closer, now able to make out the pretty features of your face. An image of you flashed in his head, blood running down your nose and lips, tears in your eyes, your fingernails raking down his wrist. 

“I just needed a minute to clear my head.” You said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you weren't out in the dead of night stomping around loud enough for any walkers within a five mile radius to hear. 

Daryl said nothing, his eyes fixed on your face as you slowly crept near. Although he hated not being able to read your expressions, he was thankful for it, because he was hanging on by a thread and if you even showed the slightest hint of fear, he'd snap. He wouldn't be able to resist if your lips trembled, or if your eyes widened and you stuttered a single apprehensive syllable. 

But as his eyes adjusted even further, his mouth ran dry and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. That would've been less of a stun than the look you were giving him, standing only a few inches away from him. 

Your plan had worked. You'd been plotting it ever since Rick paired you up in that group, the silent attention Daryl had been giving you ended up driving you mad. You found it absurd that all it took was a few stares to make you feel like he was some A list celebrity giving you special treatment.

Maybe it was a little stupid the way you went about it, but the curiosity eating you up inside didn't have you thinking straight. Walking off into the woods was one thing, but at night? In woods so thick you could barely see your hand outstretched in front of you? Blindly trekking through the leaves in the mere hope that he'd follow you and make a move? 

You hadn't had sex in way too long. 

Yeah, that was it.

That's why you were making the decisions of a dumb bitch in a horror movie. But at least it was Daryl you were after, you knew you'd be fine if you ran into trouble. 

You thought you'd be fine.

Emboldened by the darkness and privacy you'd secured for yourself, you approached him. Your heart hammered against your chest, and you had to bite your lip to keep from panicking, the fear of rejection or a humiliating scolding almost made you change your mind. 

Your eyes strained in the dark to make out the features of his face. 

He looked almost expressionless, but there was something in his eyes, something that had your steady breathing turning into shuddering breaths coming from your mouth. His gaze looked like a textbook example of ‘dark’. Your heart felt like it was literally about to explode, and when you saw his upper lip barely twitch, you let out an accidental sigh, too exhilarated to feel embarrassed with yourself. 

He was right in front of you then. You'd crossed every single inch of ground that separated you, and you could smell his signature scent of cigarettes, smoke, those spicy little mint leaves he'd chew on for his oral fixation. There was a hint of male musk as well, just barely there after a day walking outside in the woods. 

You could see his chest rising and falling more dramatically now. 

He was still dead silent, his eyes never leaving yours, even as you looked over every inch of him. You'd been biting your lip so hard it started to ache, and so you released it, your mouth opening to speak, you yourself unaware of what you planned to say.

The sound of Abraham’s whistle signal breaking through the thick silence had you feeling like you fell out of a plane. You sucked in a gasp and pulled your hand back from where it hung inches away from Daryl's chest. 

Daryl's posture snapped into something so different it gave you whiplash. He was Daryl Dixon again, the sight so drastic you couldn't help but feel unnerved. 

He whistled back before looking at you once more. It was still too dark to tell if he looked relieved or disappointed. “C'mon.” 

Keeping his distance from people had never been a problem for Daryl. But what you did that night had permanently altered something inside him. 

He didn't know if he wanted to fuck you or kill you. Maybe both. 

You became his new favorite pastime. 

When everyone fell asleep that night, he sat with his back against the same tree he'd been sitting under for hours, his eyes keeping their unwavering stance on your sleeping form. All the while he imagined hundreds of different things to do to you. 

His mind kept going between strangling the life out of you, watching it bleed from your eyes. Or the other one, the image where he was burying his face between your legs with his tongue and teeth sucking and nipping, licking till it became too much and you begged him to stop.

He carefully planned out his next encounter with you over the course of days. He acted it out the night of a “party” at Aaron and Eric’s house, so focused on his plan he didn't even know what they were having a party for.

Daryl didn't care if you caught him staring anymore. That night in the woods he could practically smell how bad you wanted it, it didn't matter to him anymore if he disregarded all basic manners.

The last time there was a party in Alexandria was when Rick's group joined. Daryl hadn't gone to that one, the feeling of being an outdoor cat watching indoor cats eating their fancy wet food too much for him. 

But he'd do anything to continue this little game with you. It was new, and there were no rules. 

For the most part he was his usual self, sticking to the side and keeping enough casual conversation to blend in. The perfect balance between himself, and the part of him that imagined in great detail all the sounds you'd make. 

He took a sip of the beer Aaron forced in his hands, his eyes looking back to you. 

You looked like a fresh cut of meat just waiting for him to sink his teeth into. 

The dress you wore hugged every single piece of your body, fitting you in a way that was almost poetic, but it was modest enough that it didn't draw unwanted attention. You were beside Rick most of the night, happily chatting and drinking champagne in a way that oozed confidence. 

Every now and then you'd look at him, and he'd savor all the details of the way your confidence faded into something he didn't have a word for. You looked nervous, but hungry, like someone reaching out a hesitant hand to stroke the pelt of a tamed predator. 

Daryl wanted to bite that hand, hold it in his harsh jaws while your other one stroked his fur. 

You played your part well, after most of the formal greetings and casual conversation had been taken care of you slipped out the back door. 

He counted three minutes in his head before making his exit, which was stopped by Carol.

“Leaving already, huh?” She gave him a knowing smirk, unaware that her assumption he was just bored was incorrect. He'd never been more entertained. 

“Yeah, shit ain't for me anyway.” He played along with a nonchalant shrug, pulling a lone cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Done enough already just by comin’.” 

Carol nodded, that smirk still on her face as she looked at the people standing around making friendly conversation. “Don't get into any trouble. Don't wanna help you hide bodies again.”

Daryl snorted, the cigarette bobbing between his lips. If there was anyone he'd come to for help hiding bodies it definitely would've been her. “Yeah yeah. Night Carol.” He gave her a pat on her shoulder before turning sideways to fit through the cracked door. 

He hadn't expected you to be so good at this. He'd been prepared to walk down the steps of the porch and see you standing down the sidewalk, waiting for him like he was your prom date. 

You weren't too good, though. He found you rather easily. The bottom of your heels left slight little indents in the dirt, leading between the houses, down the street, and right up to the sidewalk in front of your house. 

His heart rate sped up a little when he remembered that house was completely empty, all but you.

Or so he thought.

You weren't anywhere to be seen. He checked every room, growing increasingly irritated when each one turned up nothing. He was about to give up and just head home when he checked your room one last time. 

Something caught his eye, a blade of grass, his eyes followed the bits of grass to see those black heels sitting under your dresser, taking the place of your boots.

You tried to keep from anxiously picking at your fingernails as you stood behind the thick underbrush at the woodline, watching for any sign of movement along the outside walls. 

There was a spot at the back wall near a platform no one really watched anymore, which is where the both of you had gone to leave without being seen. 

You were beginning to think maybe you'd read him wrong. Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered that look he gave you at the party, it was impossible to describe. He was lacking any sort of expression, but in his eyes held this darkness that made swallowing your champagne hard when you'd seen it. The way he leaned against the wall near a group of people, his eyes steady and fixed on you, you could only decipher that as a look of craving for something he'd been wanting for a long time.

If you hadn't been looking at the Alexandrian walls, you would've missed it. For a split second you saw a flash of dark clothing, even darker hair, and you darted from your position behind the thickets.

Thankfully it wasn't as dark as that one night. 

The sun had dipped down below the trees and out of sight, but it left just enough light for the sky to be a dark blue. The full moon made it even brighter, and soon you were in one of the houses right outside Alexandria. 

You stood in the living room and waited. You'd already checked the house for walkers before this, not keen on the idea of a growling monstrosity of green and purple flesh ruining whatever might happen there when Daryl arrived. 

If he arrived. 

You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't coming. The heavy front door was open just a few inches, you'd wanted to be able to see him approach the house, to take him by surprise, maybe giving him the same fright he'd given you countless times.

Suddenly, the air grew heavy. You felt that feeling again, like you were in danger, the feeling you might get being stalked by a large cat. 

There was a breeze behind you, and you recognized it as a draft from the back window being opened. 

Although it was happening behind you, your mind raced as you played out the scene. His hands bracing against the walls on either side of the window, his first leg dipping over like a spider emerging from its tunnel. 

The tap of a boot meeting the wood floor under the window, so light and careful you almost didn't hear it. A second foot, he was in the house, only across the room from you. You held your breath as the footsteps drew near, slow, deliberate, you could tell just by the timing of his steps he was approaching you like a leopard closing in on a wounded deer. Confident, patient, nearly sadistic.

The feeling of his breath on your bare shoulder sent chills through your body and goosebumps down your arms. It was cold and barely there, you felt like if you turned around you'd be met with an empty house.

His fingers were just as light as his breath, tracing the thin dress strap over your shoulder, down and to the middle of your spine. 

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Daryl could be this confident in this way. He acted like every antagonist in a romance novel, dark and self-assured with every move he made. 

You felt yourself relaxing as you leaned your back against his chest, feeling the leather of his vest on your skin, as well as the buttons on his black shirt. 

The feeling of his hand snaking over your shoulder and up to your neck succeeded in sending every last drop of blood in your body down between your legs. You were fully prepared for the best slow, deep, mind-blowing sex of your life, but that quickly changed when his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

It wasn't a firm and sexy squeeze, it was a ‘wait that's actually way too tight’ squeeze. 

Your eyes shot back open but you tried to keep your cool, your hands instinctively reaching up to grab at his wrist.

Apparently, Daryl didn't like that. 

He suddenly had your back pressed against the wall of the living room with movements so quick and precise it made your head spin. You looked up at his face, lit with a dim blue light from the windows, searching for any signs that would be cause for panic. 

He decided to give you that reason you were looking for, and wrapped his hand around your neck again.

For once, Daryl wasn't fighting some internal battle on if he should kill you or not. 

He'd made the decision as soon as he crept in the window and saw you standing in the living room, facing the front door and biting at your nails. 

That decision wasn't final, though, you had the power in your hands to change his mind. 

Hopefully you'd be as lucky as you always were. 

He looked down at your face as he kept his one handed grip on your throat, burning the image in his mind. Your eyes were wide and full of this otherworldly beautiful fear, so much uncertainty it made his already hard cock twitch. 

Your hands were still on his wrist, as if it gave you some sort of control, something he found endearing. You still trusted him, you still thought you had a chance to regain the control you thought you had this whole time.

“This what you wanted?” He breathed, looking from your eyes to your lips. Your face had turned a shade darker from his grip, your lips turning a pretty hue of red. “Wanted me to hunt you down, and then what? Huh?”

He watched for your reaction, waiting to see how you'd play the hand you'd been dealt, and to his pleasant surprise you managed to nod. 

Daryl's hand loosened just enough to send the blood back to your head and you sucked in a deep breath, before letting out a trembling whimper. 

His lips twitched into a soft smirk, and he dipped his head down to press his lips against yours. You kissed him hungrily, swallowing the growl from his throat as your bare knee pressed against the aching bulge in his jeans. You moved it in firm circles, and he decided that earned a returned gesture.

He used his knee to roughly spread your thighs before giving you the same treatment. The whine that drew from your lips, and the way your eyes rolled back in your head, had him letting out a deep groan. He ground his knee up between your legs, long enough to feel the wetness seeping from your panties and through his jeans. 

You didn't get a chance to tell him about the bed you'd cleaned upstairs for this. Which was unfortunate, given you'd gone out of your way to do so, not that he would've cared anyway. 

He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, fingers finding the zipper of your dress and unceremoniously pulling it down to your ass. Your heavy breathing fueled his desire and he grabbed a fistful of your hair before yanking your dress down with his other hand so fast it burned. 

With the grip he had in your hair he forcefully guided you onto the floor, releasing you only to settle between your thighs and slide his hands up your bare chest to his favorite part of you. 

You got that look on your face again. Lust blown pupils, breathing softly through your mouth. You still hadn't figured it out yet, that you could very easily be in danger. 

This time he used both hands. 

A yelp got choked from your throat as he squeezed, allowing himself a few seconds to please himself. The white of your eyes turned a light pink at the edges, a few beads of tears forming there as well, the sight making his dick throb. 

He released your neck and you gasped, sucking down lungfuls of air as your head spun. You felt like you were on a carousel the way you got so dizzy. 

While you regained your bearings he unbuckled his belt and took out his dick, his right hand wasting no time in giving himself relief. You took the opportunity to slide off your panties, and when he saw the glistening of your wet folds in the deep blue lighting he growled. The sinful sound earned a whimper from you, and he refocused on your face to see a pitiful look of impatience.

Daryl switched to stroking himself with his left hand, and guided the tip up through your slick folds. He savored the way you looked then, biting your bottom lip as you prepared yourself. 

Instead of giving the satisfaction he pulled his tip back and carried on fucking his hand. As soon as your eyes opened and you went to protest, his free hand went right back to your neck.

He loved the way you looked then, desperate and pathetic, so full of frustration it leaked out through tears in your eyes. He squeezed hard, completely cutting off blood and air to your brain, tugging his dick faster as you squirmed.

Daryl lifted up his knee to pin one of your thighs to the floor in an effort to keep you still. He took his hand away from his cock and spit in his palm, wasting no time in getting back to touching himself. 

He could've easily come right there. If he wanted to, he could keep squeezing just a few more moments, and your squirming would've stopped. He could spill his load on your stomach and effortlessly slip into his cleanup routine, but aside from the fact that part of him didn't really want to kill you, the way you orgasmed had him fucking frozen.

He hadn't even touched you, but you came. 

Your eyebrows scrunched together and the leg he didn't have pinned down wrapped around his waist, your hips rolling in a desperate attempt to get friction against your clit. He relaxed his hand from your throat and you let out this bubbly whimpering sound that made his hips instinctively jerk forward. 

Daryl watched you, holding his breath without realizing it. She just came from you chokin’ her. The words repeated over and over in his mind as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm. 

He had to snatch his hand away from his dick to keep his own orgasm at bay. Not yet, not a chance in hell, not after you just did that. You deserved something for showing him the hottest thing he never would've thought possible.

His body went on autopilot. He slid down from your body, planting kisses in a trail from your neck to your naval, down to your thighs, then back up again. He buried his face between your legs, not giving you a moment's notice or time to recover. He swirled his tongue around your clit, grazing his teeth against it before sucking it between his lips.

You bucked against him like a wild horse, the stimulation so much your body didn't know how to react. It was desperate, finally getting some stimulation, but you'd just had a world shattering orgasm only seconds before. He wrapped his arms under your thighs and pulled you down against his mouth again, his grip tight to keep you from squirming away again. 

The only control you had was your ability to choose what to do with your hands. Your fingers wrapped around clumps of his hair, winding up so tight it made his scalp burn. 

He growled in response and took your clit between his teeth, holding it there as a stern warning, only letting it go when you stopped pulling so damn hard.

If he had the power to freeze time for everything but the two of you, he would've eaten your pussy for hours. But he settled on just long enough to pull another orgasm from you, sliding the tip of his tongue from your throbbing clit to the new trail of slick cum dripping out of you. 

Daryl didn't give you time to recover from that one either. As soon as your cry faded out he flipped you on your back, ignoring the yelp of protest you made when your hip bones dug into the hard floor beneath you. 

The only warning he gave you before shoving his cock into you was a quick slide of his swollen tip between your puffy folds. Just right enough to lubricate the head, and then he drove it in.

The way you groaned in pain from the stretch almost made him cum right there. He stilled inside you, not for you to adjust but for him to fall back away from the edge. The benefit to you was just lucky. 

“Fuck.” It was the first time in a while that he'd spoken, and it was solely due to the way your hot plush walls squeezed his dick like a fist. 

He should've known you'd feel like that, he hadn't seen you with a man the entire time he'd known you. His chest shuddered with his ragged breaths, and once he was ready he put both hands flat on your upper back. He put his weight there, keeping him upright so he could lift his hips and fuck his dick into you with all his weight.

Your arms slid out in front of you, your hands grasping for something, anything, you needed something to hold onto.

He wouldn't grant you that kindness either. He rested his knees back on the floor on either side of your thighs and grabbed your arms, bending them painfully behind you. When he held your wrists together at the base of your spine he started fucking you again. 

Each rough snap of his hips drove a whiney moan from you. He liked that a lot, it sounded similar to a different type of crying, and he slowed down to keep his dick from getting friction burns. While you used the opportunity to squirm under him in an attempt to get more comfortable he spit on his fingers, letting it drip onto the base of his cock before changing positions once again.

He moved your arms up over your head and laid down on top of you, the weight of him pressing down on your back pushing all the air from your lungs. 

Your check rubbed against the floor as he started thrusting again, this time settling on a new pace, rough and fast despite the fact he barely drew his dick out. If he wasnt fucking you so roughly, the feeling of his head resting against yours would’ve given you butterflies. You became acutely aware of the closeness, there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies, and every grunt and groan he made had his lips brushing up against the side of your ear.

He used his hips to grind his dick inside you, the new motion drawing filthy gasps and whines from you from the way his tip seemed to roll and dig into each and every crevice inside you. You'd never felt anything like that before, so used to the normal thrusting. He only pulled back about an inch, rolling his hips in a way that had you shamelessly moaning. 

Daryl moved your hair from the back of your neck, pushing it up and away before leaning down to dig his teeth into the skin right at the base of your neck. He bit hard, something you didn't expect, and you cried out in pain, your body jerking under him. 

It was hard for you to breathe with his full weight on your back. The heat of his body gave you uncomfortable hot flashes, adding to the sweat you'd already made. Your hair stuck to your forehead and you made an attempt to push it off, which was made difficult when he changed paces once again.

He started drawing out further now, but he'd just drive back in harder, faster, causing your body to grind roughly against the wood floor. The skin over your hip bones started to burn as well as your nipples, something you found almost agonizing but shamefully pleasurable at the same time. 

He fucked you like that until you came for the third time, now around his dick. He pushed himself off your back and used his hands on your shoulders to keep you pinned down, watching as he breathed through his mouth at the way his cock disappeared inside you. 

You were lucky he felt like a new position. 

He waited until you stopped writhing under him from your orgasm before grabbing your thigh to turn you on your back. 

Relief washed over you as the pain in your hip bones faded, only to have that relief taken from you when he grabbed your waist and yanked you up and off the floor. 

Your feet didn't even touch the ground, your body swaying as you tried to get a sense of gravity, Daryl's hands tight on your sides as he took you to the couch. 

All you could do at that point was relax and let him move your body for you, your hands shaking against your chest as he sat you on the arm of the couch. You let him push you down on your back, your ass and legs dangling over the arm for a few dizzying seconds before he grabbed your legs and held them around his waist. 

Daryl pushed his dick back in your abused pussy and groaned, gripping your thighs tighter so he could pull you closer to him.

Your back arched almost uncomfortably, your hips angled up against his pelvis, the only part of your back that touched the cushions of the couch ended up being your shoulders. You were thankful you could at least breathe now. 

Daryl was skilled at taking small bits of relief like that away. 

He leaned down and bit your already sore nipple so hard and so suddenly you nearly shouted. Your hands instinctively went to grab his hair for support, but he leaned back and your fingers fell from his face. 

He was proud of the new angle. Your pelvis tilted up and him fucking down into you sent him as deep as possible, and soon he began fucking you rough enough that it bordered closely on too painful. 

Lucky for you, you liked it. Your walls burned pleasurably from the dragging of his dick, and he started speaking again. 

“Look at you, dirty little whore.” He teased as he looked down at your abused body with a grin. Your nipples and hips were red from him fucking you into the floor, your neck equally as red from the force of his hands. 

Your sweet, sweet pretty face, twisted up in a mix of pleasure and pain, your cheeks red, your lips swollen, streaks of black makeup running down your face. The sight made him seriously consider picking up drawing, because that look was, without a doubt, the best thing he'd seen in his entire life. 

“Daryl,” You finally plucked the courage to speak to him and he raised a brow, impressed, he'd gotten used to you taking it so well without any complaints. “Too much.” Your voice broke as you whined, another orgasm bringing you to shambles. 

He snorted as he watched you come around his dick yet again, your words asking for mercy but your body clearly asking him otherwise. 

“You can take a little more, yeah?” Even he was becoming spent, his heart banging in his chest so hard he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his hands down your sweaty chest to your breasts, his dick twitching inside you at the way you cried when he pinched that same sore nipple. 

“I don't know,” Another wave of shivers overcame you, eliciting exhausted, long and shaky whines. Your body couldn't process going a little under two years with little to no sexual activity, and then suddenly being mind numbingly overstimulated with the most exhilarating sex you'd ever had in your life. Each time you thought you'd gotten used to it he'd pull the rug out from under you, either by causing pain or giving you more pleasure that you knew what to do with. 

As if on cue you felt his flattened hand smack the side of your face, demanding your focus. Your eyes struggled to find him, your vision fuzzy and wobbly, but when you looked up and saw him your heart fluttered. 

“Look at me. C'mon.” He didn't want you passing out on him, that took all the fun away. 

Despite the obvious fact he had a clear disregard for your comfort or discomfort, the way he was looking down at you sent butterflies through your stomach and chest. His pupils were so blown with lust that you couldn't see the pretty color of his eyes, and his eyelids were heavy with the approach of his orgasm. His lips, glistening from the way his tongue had darted out to wet them, parted as he huffed in ragged breaths. 

You could tell if he had a picture of you like this, he'd be reacting the same way with just his hand. The thought had a moan bubbling past your lips. 

“C'mon.” His hips snapped forward roughly, jerking in a break from his steady aggressive rhythm. You cried out from that, your hands finding the sides of his dangling belt to grab onto like the reins of a horse.

He'd held back his orgasm as long as he could, but the sight of you shaking and trembling under him, exhausted and overstimulated, he couldn't last much longer. Your face twisted in discomfort as he fucked you faster again, your hips suddenly doing their best to wiggle up and away from the frenzy of his dick. 

You'd managed to get a few short moments of relief, sliding backwards until his dick nearly slid out.

His upper lip curled in disbelief, and he shook his head, scoffing at you. “Don't be a baby, you can take it.” You were yanked back down on his dick, the sensation of being forced back into overstimulation had you moaning in distress. 

You nodded your head feverishly, setting your jaw as you looked up at the ceiling, trying your best to keep it together. But each time his hips would ram into yours it made his crotch slam against your clit, and it got too much, your breathing sped up as the panic of overstimulation set in. You really tried then, actually tried to wiggle away, and to your surprise, and much needed relief, he stilled his hips. 

You were expecting him to maybe find a better way to restrain you, or put you in a position you couldn't move from, but he just used the moment to catch his breath before his demeanor changed completely.

“Hey, hey, shh.” The sweetness in his tone made you whimper, your eyes falling closed as he comforted you. It felt so fucking good, you found yourself willing to do anything and everything to feel that tenderness some more. “Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” He cooed as your breathing slowed and your fingers stopped shaking.

Daryl released your thighs and with unexpected ease, he slipped his hands under the arch in your back, picking you up and moving so he could sit down on the couch, keeping you stuck on his cock the entire time. 

The new position of being on top sent a fresh wave of pleasure flipping in the bottom of your stomach, the tip of his dick pressed right at the end of your walls.

It wasn't painful like you'd felt before when your cervix was accidentally hit too hard, quite the opposite, the feeling of pressure was so strangely good you found yourself pushing down with all your weight, desperate to feel more. 

Daryl tossed his head back with a grunt at the feeling, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting it. His hands took their place on your hips, his fingers digging deep into the soft skin there. 

He'd only switched to this position because his legs were getting unsteady, but the way you looked above him was something he didn't expect to enjoy as much as he did. 

He took a second to catch his breath before he planted his boots firmly on the floor, pressing his back against the couch, and when he was perfectly leveraged he used his hands to keep your waist hovering above him, using the angle to fuck his dick up into you so hard you immediately came again. 

The way you came for the fourth time made his jaw drop. 

He watched you through heavy lidded eyes, taking in every second of it as he breathed through his open mouth. The way your face tensed up in twisted concentration, and then the way it dropped as you fell apart, your mouth falling open with a guttural moan that put every single goddamn porn video he'd seen to shame. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your mouth hung open in such a beautiful ‘O’, he broke. 

He let go of your waist so your full weight would slam down on his cock and he came, his head tilted back against the couch, his dark hair falling away from his face. 

You watched his face the same way he'd watched yours, rolling your hips down against him as you drew out every wave of the strongest orgasm you'd ever had. He looked fucking beautiful. You'd do everything in your power to get him like this again, but this time with your camera. 

His orgasm literally shook him. He clenched the skin over your hips in a tight grip, using it to keep you as tight as possible against him. In those few seconds his mind went blank, almost devolving him into an animal. Those instincts wanted to keep you there on top of him, so he did, rolling his pelvis to fuck his cum deeper into you. 

Daryl held you there until way after he came down from his high, only releasing his grip on your skin when he felt his dick grow soft. 

You couldn't move off him if you tried. Your legs felt like you'd lost all muscle mass, same with your arms. Your body slumped forward and you fell against his chest, your nipples burning as they rubbed against his shirt and vest. 

His arms wrapped around your torso, squeezing your body tight against his, his hips giving a few last weak rolls up against you. 

It took you both a while to catch your breath, the mouth breathing leaving the two of you uncomfortably thirsty. 

He made the first move when he realized you couldn't, and he slid your body off of his into the seat beside him. He sat there for a few more seconds before he carefully put his tender dick back in his pants. 

His belt buckle clinked noisily as he fastened it, his fingers shaky and inaccurate.  He watched as you slowly rose to your feet and grabbed your panties, the rising and falling of his chest gradually slowing. 

The sight of you struggling to climb into your dress had him feeling a smug sense of satisfaction. He chewed on the skin around his thumb, watching you slip your feet into your boots before you leaned against the wall next to the front door. 

You looked at it and faltered, realizing that the two of you had been pretty loud. When you looked back to him with a concerned expression you were just met with an uncaring smirk, the man now on his feet and wiping the sweat from his face with the top of his shirt. He grabbed his crossbow from the floor and flung it over his shoulder before leading you back home.

@ophelialaufey

warning for discord users

If you're on the app, immediately go to your dms and then "add friends". After the latest update they allow your contacts to find you and have that option turned on by default, so make sure it's unchecked!

This is very obviously not great for a multitude of reasons, but especially for people in vulnerable positions who do not want people in their contacts to see who they are on discord and/or know they have discord in the first place. I've also tried finding out if this is a thing on desktop but haven't been able to find any mention of it, so either it's not a "feature" (yet) or they've hidden it. Either way, stay safe, and turn off finding friends via contacts!

[ID: three screenshots from the discord app with circles around the buttons to press to get to this "feature". 1: the messages/DM button, 2: the "add friends button", 3: in the add friends page, the "allow contacts to add me" checkbox. /END ID]

Arthur x reader where ur Godzilla

It was a quiet night in Japan. You were finishing up your last touches on your special painting, when a knock came at your door.

"Hello, is this godzilla?" A soft and unsure voice sounded from the other side of your snappy apartment door. You set down your paintbrush and opened the door to see a skinny ass man, holding a paper bag that was full of something so greasy that the bottom of the bag was close to falling out.

"Uh, yeah, what's up?" You blushed and wiped some of the red paint from your cheeks off onto the back of your hand.

"Well, this might be weird, but I've admired you from afar for a while. And, i Just thought, maybe, this

☀️

This is why I don't drive.

I saw a clip of Adam driver smiling and well, um, just got carried away! Soft boi Ben Solo sometimes gives in to his wife’s request to roleplay his former persona lol. [x] 

saccharine 

Thank God for skirts, Kylo thinks as he sinks to his knees, as he rubs his nose against the curve of Rey’s lower belly and feels her shiver, as he lets his dark eyes flick up to hers, looking so filthy between her legs that Rey lets out a gasp before he even touches her.

“What are you doing?” she had asked, when he had first reached for her, had first grabbed the cheeks of her arse and pulled her toward him in the atrium of their shared flat.

“Kissing you.” he said, his dark eyes flicking pointedly above them.

Keep reading

🚨ATTENTION🚨

All Writers Published on Ao3:

This app, "Fanfic Pocket Archive Library", is lifting all public content from Ao3 and making it available through a service they profit from.

Your work has been stolen and is being used to make money for a third party.

^above are the ways in which the app makes money off of Ao3 content. The developer is called Simple Soft Alliance. Here's the app's Terms and Conditions.

Any fanfiction that can be accessed without a password on Ao3 is already available in this app. Yours, mine, every fan creator's. Whether this is illegal I do not know, but it is certainly unethical and needs to be fought. Ao3 is a site of unparalleled integrity and shows the utmost respect to creators, so this content grab is an even bigger slap in the face for that reason.

🚨Please flag/report this app in your app store. 🚨

🚩Google Playstore link

🚩Apple Store link (download app, then go to report it here )

Feel free to contact Ao3 as well to alert them to this issue. Let's take em down, folks. In the meantime, you can put your Ao3 in private mode to prevent any more data theft.

Please reblog and tag your writer friends. Signal boost this.

Kylo Ren’s Spy (Kylo Ren x Reader Smut)

Summary: You're a spy for the First Order, and Kylo Ren isn't pleased with your progress.

Warnings: Cursing, smut, dub-con smut. 

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader 

Your day had been unbearably long. All of your hours of daylight had been spent faking everything from emotions to information, you were exhausted. You’d planned on having a relaxing evening, you had a bath, bought a new nightdress, and settled down on the couch in front of your fireplace. You were working on your second glass of wine when you were rudely snapped out of your relaxed daze.

“Do you have it?”

Working as a spy for Kylo Ren wasn't an easy job. Not when he would harass you constantly, showing up in your bedroom every night to fuss at you for not getting the information he needed quickly enough. It takes time to gain the trust of people, and he couldn't seem to understand that.

At this point, you were beginning to become angry. Had he no sense of privacy? Did he not respect you enough for that? You didn’t bother moving from the couch, not even looking away from the fire. He didn’t deserve it. If he couldn’t respect your privacy you wouldn’t give him common decency.

“I’ll send word when I do.” You answered dryly, taking the last sip of wine from your cup.

“I don’t pay you to sit around all day.”

“You think I’m sitting around all day?” You scoffed, a bit insulted. You’d spend all fucking day being his rat. And now he had the nerve to call you lazy. “I’m doing my job.”

“Maybe I should redact your pay, maybe that will give you the motivation you need.” After that, he took his helmet off, something he had a habit of doing when he planned on taunting you.

“And what good will that do you?” You looked up at him and shook your head, sneering. “Calm down. I’ll get your information.”

The muscles in his jaws flexed and for a split second, he looked like a spoiled little boy. But he relaxed, so quickly it disturbed you.

“You don’t need to come every day. I don’t need to be watched. I’ll get your information.” You felt like a broken record at that point and you reached over to the small wooden table beside your chair, grabbing the fancy glass bottle of wine and refilling your cup. “You could use some as well.” You muttered and took a sip, nearly choking when it was thrown from your hand.

You’d had enough. You stood up and got so close to him you could feel his breath on your face. “What is wrong with you? I’m doing the job you’re paying me for. It takes time, Kylo, I can’t get the information you need in a day! You need to control your temper!”

Kylo grabbed your throat, turning the both of you and slamming you against the wall next to your fireplace. You looked at him with wide eyes, instantly regretting your decision. What the hell were you thinking? Did you think you were invincible? You were a spy, not a soldier!

“Watch your tone with me.” He hissed, eyes scanning over your face. You were so close, if it wasn’t Kylo’s hand around your throat you would have been aroused. His upper lip curled in what looked like disgust. “I can read your thoughts, I suggest you stop thinking so filthy.”

Your heart jumped to your throat and you swallowed hard, looking anywhere but his eyes. “Please,” It was becoming hard to breathe.

“You say that word often. Do you beg for other men as well?” How dare he? You bared your teeth and grabbed at his hand, fighting to get him off of you. He knew just the right buttons to push. “Do you? I bet you do. I bet you sound sinful when you beg.”

What the hell was he doing? You couldn’t pinpoint his motive until you felt the hand that wasn’t choking you reach under your nightgown. You gasped and fought harder against him, kicking and shoving, but it was no use.

“You’re still fighting me?” He mused darkly and you felt his gloved hand run up your bare thigh, his breath hot and humid against your cheek. “I can feel what you feel, don’t forget that. I know how lonely you are. How long it’s been.”

“Kylo,” You warned, and you tried to deny it, you tried to pretend he was wrong, but from the moment he had grabbed your throat you’d been set ablaze. And now with his hand between your legs, it was impossible to block him from your thoughts.

“You’re weak.” He spat, his hand retreating from your legs only for him to pull his leather glove off with his teeth. Oh god. How did he look so irresistible doing that?

Then he was squeezing the inside of your thigh so hard you thought he’d pull your skin off, his hand hot against your flesh. “And too defiant. You need to learn to respect me.”

And he thought this was the way to earn your respect? Normally, you were quick to retort, but with his fingers around your neck and his hand bruising your thigh, you couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. You wanted to kill him right then and there, but at the same time, he was right. You had been so lonely and it had been so long. Years since you’d been with someone. And humans had their needs.

He snorted at your thoughts and released his grip on your thigh, his hand reaching up to your panties. You sucked in another gasp and felt your legs grow weak when his fingers looped through the hem of your fabric. “Stop it, let go of me, don’t touch me!” You choked out the words but he ignored them, moving his hand from your neck to grab a fistful of your hair. You were turned around and slammed back against the wall by his grip alone, your cheekbone hitting the hard surface.

“I’ve been lonely too.” He breathed on the back of your neck, using the force to hold you in place as he pulled down your panties. “Stop lying to yourself, you want it just as badly as I do.” His voice was barely a whisper now, needy and rushed, his hands pulling up your nightgown to your hips. He sounded much more genuine, his mocking had come to an end for the moment.

“I don’t, I don’t want you.” You gritted your teeth, still keeping up the lie. He had worked you into a mess with his aggression, you’d never been treated like this, and you fucking loved it. You wanted him to fuck you against that wall. You wanted him to choke you and bite you so hard you’d be left with blood blisters on your skin.

“Your thoughts say otherwise.” His hands left you for a moment, only long enough to free himself from his uniform. “Keep denying it. We both know the truth, why won’t you give in? Let yourself feel good.” His words calmed you slightly, but only for a few seconds. Then you felt his cock rest against your inner thigh, hot, heavy and the tip of it sticky with arousal.

A bolt of electricity went through your body, and if not for the Force holding you in place, you’d be climbing up the wall to get away from him. You gave one last attempt, straining so hard against the Force before giving up.

Why fight? You wanted it. He was right. Just give in.

You relaxed and slumped against the wall, closing your eyes and letting him push inside you. Kylo shuddered and swallowed, his mouth incredibly dry. “(Y/N).” He breathed out, the puff of air from his lungs blowing a lock of hair off of your shoulder.

He had to go in slow, for his sake and yours. It had been so long for you, the only thing that had been inside you for years being your fingers. You were so damn tight.

You both moaned together, sounding sinfully beautiful, Kylo’s forehead resting on the top of your head as he tried to regain his bearings. He pushed in deeper, stretching you impossibly wide, the sensation of you squeezing the life out of his cock almost too much. He groaned, long and drawn out, his lips trembling when he was fully inside you.

“Oh, yes, oh my, Kylo,” You slurred, bracing your hands against the wall. He was no longer using the Force to hold you in place, you were willingly staying in place and letting him fuck you. He would have said something snarky about it, but you had left him breathless.

Kylo hadn’t expected to react to you this way, he thought he would have more control over himself. At this point, you could do anything you wanted to him. And he would beg for it.

He stilled for a moment, getting used to the tightness and allowing you to get used to the size of him. The room was quiet and still, save for the sound of your breathing. Both of you. Soft little gasps and sighs.

It made you uncomfortable.

“Fuck me,” You spat, getting impatient. “If you’re going to do it, fucking do it, or I’ll-”

Kylo cut your sentence short and grabbed your hair again, at the same time withdrawing and slamming back into you at a brutal pace. You cried out and felt your knees give in to their growing weakness, causing your body to fall down onto his cock. Kylo gasped sharply at the sensation of being completely inside you, then groaned and pulled your hair harder.

The pain of your weight forcing his tip against your cervix caused you to scream and you shot back upright, only for him to slap his other hand on your mouth and pull you back down on him.

He fucked into you fast, pulling you tight against his body by the grip in your hair and his hand over your mouth. Your back arched almost painfully in that position, your ass pressed into his hips with no space between your skin.

You came fast. And as soon as you did, you were angry again.

Gritting your teeth, you caught him off guard by whirling around and shoving him backward, causing him to trip over a chair and onto the floor. He hadn’t expected you to fight back anymore.

“I’m the weak one?” You were on him in a second, darting forward towards him before he could move.

You relished the look on his face. He gazed up at you with wide eyes and parted lips, completely at your mercy. You crawled on his lap and used your hand to push him flat on his back, slowly sliding your palm up his chest, over his dark clothes to wrap around his throat. “Look at you,” You hissed with a smug grin and rolled your hips down against his cock, hot and wet with your cum, feeling his length slide between your slick folds. “ Commander. ”

The sound Kylo let out was animalistic. He groaned deeply and let his head fall back against the marble floor, his hips thrusting up against your own in hopes of slipping back into your warmth.

He looked beautiful. His face flushed, his eyes blown with lust, his black curls sticking to his sweaty face and neck. “I’d make you beg for it, but I’m not patient.” You reached between the two of you and grabbed his cock, giving him a firm squeeze and making him grunt before you angled him at your entrance.

Ever so slowly you sank down on his length and sighed, tilting your head back and closing your eyes, feeling his abdominal muscles tense through his clothing under your flattened palms. It felt amazing having him fill you back up again, and at this angle it was phenomenal.

You’d never hate fucked anyone in your life, but if this is what it was like, you could definitely get used to it.

His eyes fluttered shut when he was back inside you. You slowly rose and fell, feeling his head rub against that perfect spot in your walls. He let you set the pace for a few strokes before taking control again, grabbing your hips and holding you in place while he fucked you. His thrusts were the same as before, hard, fast, and rough, demanding and merciless, making your hair bounce around your head and your moans come out as choppy ‘oh, oh, oh’s.

Since he was supporting your body you used both of your hands to squeeze around his throat.

Oh. He liked that. Being the one choked was something completely new to Kylo Ren.

He tried not to let on to the fact that he loved the feeling, especially when you were choking his cock as well. But it was painfully obvious because as soon as your fingers tightened around his throat you felt his cock twitch excitedly. He fought to breathe as you used your upper body weight to press down on his neck, still thrusting up into you with that aggressive pace.

“How do you like it?” You panted as your body was bounced on his cock. His eyes fluttered open and his attention was on your face as you spoke, flickering from your lips to your eyes. “How do you like the feeling of blood being cut off from your brain? The pressure in your head, Commander ?” Each time you teased him with his title, he came closer and closer to his climax.

With the help of your words, his orgasm came fast, swelling inside him before he let out a deep groan and sat up, looping his arms around your back to pull you down onto him. He held you firmly in place as his hips rolled against yours, spilling all of his cum into you.

He was panting hard now, gulping in fast and shallow breaths.

The feeling of your clit being pressed down so tightly on his skin set off your second orgasm and you sank your teeth into his neck, biting down hard as you rode out your waves of pleasure. The streams of white-hot bliss surged through your body, from your clit to your organs, all the way to the surface of your skin.

Fuck. What had you done?

You came down from your high and swallowed hard, opening your eyes. Kylo was still holding you tight against him so you couldn’t see his face. What was he thinking? You could feel his heart thumping against your chest, just as fast as your own, his heavy breathing rocking your bodies.

You glanced down at the damp skin of his neck under your lips, seeing that you had been the one to leave blood blisters. A deep red mark in the shape of your teeth stood out angrily against his pale skin, the bruise harsh and prominent, raised up slightly. That would be there for weeks.

No words were said for a while. The silence was finally broken when you slid off of him, out of his lap, the cum inside of you immediately leaking out of you. You placed your hand between your legs to stop the flow, but it still trickled around your fingers and down your thighs.

“You know,” You panted, walking to your panties that had been left on the floor near your fireplace. Once you slipped them back on you turned to see he had pulled himself together and was leaning against the couch. “If you fuck me like that every time you come to get information, I won’t mind you coming every night.”

Kylo Ren x Reader Slowburn

Hi guys! It would mean the world to me if you would check out my Kylo Ren x Reader slow-burn, it’s on Ao3 and Wattpad. It’s my first Star Wars fanfiction so there will probably be lots of inaccuracies, so please let me know if you see any! I’ve been working really hard on it for the past few months, so it would seriously make me very very happy if you would take the time to read and leave a like or a comment. Really, anything helps! 

Archive:

Wattpad:

GOOD BOY (Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader)

Summary: When seeing you shout at General Hux, Kylo can’t help but get turned on. 

Masterlist

Warning: smut, sub!kylo ren, swearing, vulgar language and actions. kylo cums when you slap him in the face lmfao, this shits is degrading

Kylo’s cock was harder than it had ever been. He was sure of that. As he sat in the briefing room, all he could do was watch from beneath his helmet as you talked down to General Hux’s. You ridiculed him for lack of listening skills and loyalty to Kylo once Snoke had been killed. Truly, seeing you briefly shout at the man, seeing that anger flow through you before you closed your eyes, took a calming breath, and threatened him with a straight face, made Kylo’s black pants tighten up ever so slightly.

He couldn’t stop imagining that anger focused on himself, having you shout at him, degrade him, put him down, call him a brainless fucking idiot instead. Fuck, Kylo needs to get out of this meeting now. Like right now. Though you’re now seated, he can’t stop staring at you. He can’t stop staring at your hands, clenched, resting on the black table. They’re the same hands he wishes were around his throat right now. Or maybe around his throbbing -

“I believe that is all for now, Supreme Leader.” Comes General Hux’s weary voice, as he stands with hands clasped behind his back. The sudden outburst from you had his self-esteem crushed, and when Kylo nods, Hux is quick to exit the room.

Keep reading

Words: 1.7k

Plot: Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is confined to a board meeting. But as long as he’s still Force Bonded with you: there’s no place or propriety to stop you absolutely ravishing him. Even if it means him falling apart in front of his top generals.

A/N: Forgive me for everything. I know now what I do. I live in a land of absolute debauchery and sin - it is a lawless place where Kylo Ren is still Supreme Leader and oh boy, he fucks.

Keep reading

Me beginning first episode of The Mandalorian:

Me at the end of episode: