Digital circus' biggest problem is that it was written to be a niche show aimed at weird analytical queers with actual media literacy and it accidentally blew tf up and hit the mainstream and a bunch of people who have never had a second thought about anything got into it
prompt: getting locked in a room by mistake with your run partner daryl.
setting: prison era
warnings: fighting, name calling, blowjob, dom!daryl, kinda sub! fem reader (barely)
unedited work
word count: 3110
reminder, you are responsible for the media you consume! (+18 content)
4 hours and counting.
the lock on the damn door had been jammed for 4 hours, still not budging as you try to pull on it with all your might; ignoring the pain in your palms and fingers as you continued on.
"stupid lock," you mumble, "stupid door," annoyed, "stupid fucking pointless supply run." the rage consumed you as you slammed the lock against the door and walked away into the room you had found yourself trapped in, racking your fingers through your hair in frustration. you kicked a stray desk chair and watched as it spun to the opposite side of the room, not caring for the walkers that banged against the door at the sudden noise.
what was supposed to be a simple run to a veterinary clinic for medical supplies turned into a disaster, one wrong door leading to a flood of walkers chasing you and your partner, daryl, into an abandoned break room. the only thing that you had was a padlock to close the doors to prevent the dead corpses from making you their dinner. it was a spur of the moment decision that you thought would be a good one, but the rust inside the mechanism came back to bite you in the ass. big time.
"there ain't no point in loosin' your shit like that woman." daryl's raspy voice uttered out from the far corner of the room as his body leaned against one of the tables, irritation settling in as he eyed you down. it was as a surprise to him, seeing you like this, drastically different from the calm and mature woman you usually are. but something about your rage-induced state lit a fire in the pit of his stomach, seeing a side he never knew you had.
and though he was growing irritated, he couldn't help but imagine how hot it would be to get you to shut up with him in your mouth. the raised voice of banter seizing to be heard, instead being replaced by the sounds of your gags, the sounds of you taking him deep in your throat. but just as quick as he thought about that situation, he let it go, quickly covering the blush on his face by turning towards the boarded up window.
"well what am i meant to do?" you question, voice laced with anger. you didn't understand how the man before you could keep his cool. you're patience started running thin at the 2 hour mark. "the damn lock isn't budging and we've been fucking stuck for god knows how long, son of a bitch." you kicked the ground, watching as a cloud of dirt lifted off the tile and dispersed into the air.
"just relax until help comes," his response could've made your blood boil hotter than hell, like he wanted to piss you off —and maybe he did— but in a half-assed attempt to not explode on him you just rolled your eyes and plopped heavily down on the dusty ground with your arms crossed and stared at the cursed door. "there isn't anything we can do right now, unless you have a pair of bolt cutters?" he added. the way he was so calm was starting to piss you off more and he could definitely sense it.
"yeah, clearly," you rolled your eyes heavily and made sure he seen it, "like anyone would come anyways daryl, and yeah let me pull them outta my ass." with a voice laced with attitude, you pulled out your hunting knife and began cleaning it with the bottom of your tattered, rotten-blood soaked, tee. anything to pass the never-ending time. your every being was completely miserable, wanting nothing more than to summon the strength from somewhere to just break the door off the hinges.
"way-ta be positive." as your eyes shot towards him, squinted in a glare, you watch as he began to clean his crossbow. his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, hair falling in front of his eyes, and his bicep muscles on full display, but even that bothered you. something about him just pissed you off today, made you want to fight with him. maybe even fuck him too just to get him to shut up, unbeknownst to you he wanted to do the same.
"there isn't anything positive about this situation." you mumble, face turning red as your anger —and now sexual frustration— grew more. all you wanted to do was gain a reaction from him, that's how bored you were. there was no reason to continue this conversation with daryl, however you couldn't get over the fact that he was so calm and collected. you wanted him to be just as miserable as you were.
"well maybe you shoulda been more careful," if looks could kill, daryl would be dead. "we wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for you." you're eyes were now sending daggers towards him as you suddenly stood to your feet and stomped closer to the man, stopping right in front of him. he could feel the heat radiating off your body, beckoning him to draw nearer. to push you to the ground and shut you up like he thought earlier.
"if it weren't for me? nah we'd be chewed apart by those undead fucks, dixon," his last name rolled off your tongue with venom, using your pointer finger to poke his chest harshly, "don't you dare point the blame at me." your voice progressively got louder, attracting more walkers to bang on the door. as if daryl's arguing wasn't enough to get you going, with all the pent up frustration you could kill every single one of the undead members beyond the door.
"so you want me to lie?" he questions, "i'm tryna be optimistic, tryna pass the time and all you wanna do is argue and get your damn panties in a twist!" you could tell from the way he spoke, with a new found sense of bubbling anger and the way his tone rose to almost a yell, that you were getting what you suddenly wanted. however, with this new found emotion that you beckoned out of him, you found your neediness for him growing in between your legs.
daryl on the other hand couldn't help but to become more frustrated as you continued on and wouldn't drop the subject. the thought of being stuck in the room with you for another few hours seemed impossible now, growing to know that you won't give it up until you're out of here and back at the prison. how annoying.
he would just need to make his daydream of you on your knees a reality.
"i'm not saying for you to lie, but don't point the blame on someone who saved your ass!" you scowl, seething from between clenched teeth. if this was a cartoon, the smoke would be shooting out of your ears. despite the way you are feeling down south, you couldn't shake the vexation.
the gull that the redneck had to blame you after you saved the two of you without a second thought. yeah you opened the door without checking first, that was right. but how could anyone have known that many walkers would've been behind? in the end, however, you did save both your life and daryl's life. you would think he would be more proactive at helping you find a way out of this damn room, be more thankful too while he's at it.
"and you know, instead of sitting on your ass and cleaning that stupid bow, you could help me find a goddamn way out of here." the words fell from your mouth in a fit of rage, instantly gaining a reaction from daryl. his face set in a deadpanned glare, turning red as he slammed his crossbow down on the desk harshly. the sudden movement made you flinch, but the glare never faltered. how hot was this, the sight before you?
"you know i've had enough of your bratty ass attitude," his voice now seethed out, his face inches from yours. you hid a smirk as you were finally satisfied with his reaction. fucking miserable. fed up with you, just like you felt about him with his 'optimism'. "why don't you stop acting like a bitch, just shut the hell up and sit your ass down!" you couldn't deny that the way he spoke to you made you want to jump him even more than a few minutes ago, watching as the veins pop out in his neck just right. pathetic.
but little did you know that he felt bad. even though he didn't show it. he knew better than to talk to a woman like that, but he couldn't help it. the attitude that you had gained towards him over a situation he didn't even get the two of you in was intense. it was a drastic difference from the person he knew you as and what pissed him off the most was that he was amorous, wanting nothing more but to put his imagination to work. how you raged, like an animal in a cage. the way your chest fell up and down, how he could've sworn to hear your heart beating from within your slightly exposed chest was enough for him.
"if i'm a bitch what does that make you then? sitting there name calling at me like i did fuck-all to you!" you fire back immaturely, knowing that it'll only add fuel to his fiery rage. pressing his buttons was something that you never had done before, but you certainly would put yourself in this position again. the way his face was so red, the way his whole body tensed up, the way he even slammed his bow down aggressively just moments ago. fuck.
"nah, ya' just got me trapped in'ere with the likes of you." he spat coldly, not being able to help himself as his face got closer to yours. the air suddenly felt hot, too hot. his words should've stung, should've broke your little heart, but they didn't and he gathered it fairly quickly. instead they sent bone-rattling, spine tingling, shivers throughout your entire body. you felt yourself inhale sharply without warning and shuffle your feet as if you were growing inpatient.
"i'm sorry that i make you so miserable," you began, not genuinely meaning the apology, "but if you want me to shut up, than make me." you try your best to sound threatening —to sound daring— though the way he had you melting before him made it hard. you could feel yourself shaking at the knees, though you fought hard to keep your composure as you used your hands to brace yourself against the table that was now behind you. the metal was cold against your palms, a nice change from the heat that radiated everywhere else.
"the walkers out there should be enough for you to shut up, don't go demanding me," his voice was eerily calm and his tone low to almost a whisper, yet held so much tension. the way he took a step forward, pressing you against the table further as his threatening demeanour increased and his face grew inches away from yours. enough to make your brain go empty, despite the dirty thoughts that were rampaging through it. "but i think i got an idea."
your heart rate increased more if that was even possible, your body temperature going up with it as he wraps his fingers in the hair that lay innocently at the back of your head. he pushed you forward into him, his lips against yours in an instant; as if he was letting all of his anger out into the kiss. there was nothing gentle about the way he was working you through, more so teeth and tongue than anything else and it made you react with a moan into his mouth.
your hands let go of the table behind you to grip daryl's collar, causing you to crash into it harshly. the loud screeching of metal against tile flooring was enough to gain further attention from the walkers but you could care less. if anything it edged you on further as you ran your hands down the front of his torso, down to his belt buckle. you were growing even more impatient as your core began aching with the need of him.
but before you could even get the buckle undone his free hand grabbed yours and pushed it away, an animalistic growl omitting from deep within his throat as if he was warning you without any words. but you still persisted, moving your hands back to the buckle. as if your defiance against him wasn't done from earlier. and maybe it wasn't, maybe you still wanted to pick a fight. the reaction it withdrew from him was too good, the yelling and slamming going straight to your dripping core.
to your dismay he pulled away from the sultry kiss, lips shinning and puffy, "you still wanna try an'fight even now?" his voice was firm, anger visibly coming back as his eyebrows furrow and his neck muscles tighten as he clenches his jaw. his breathing was unsteady, chest rising and falling as he fought to catch his breath.
"what if i did?" you asked, tone matching his. you tried your best to steady your breathing as well, focusing on pressing your legs together for some sort of friction as your ache grows with each passing minute.
"hmm," he hums as he untangles his thick digits from your hair and uses them to grab your cheeks, squeezing lightly as you gave him your best doe eyes, "i guess i'll have to give ya a reason not to, give ya somethin' that'll zip tha' bratty mouth a'yours." his words, like music to your ears, drew a moan from your throat. one that resembled need and want.
"like what?" your voice was sultry, smooth like butter. but the question was not needed, you knew what he was talking about; what he was going to do. and you were all for it.
"get on your knees an'i'll show ya." and you knew exactly what it was, right away.
without hesitation, without any fight, a smirk found its way upon your lips as you got down to your knees; now eye level with the erection in daryl's pants. you licked your lips greedily and stared up at him as his hands moved quickly to undo his belt, quickly discarding his clothes from the waist down.
a light moan escapes your lips as your hand moves up, gripping the base of his cock and stroking it gently; earning you a throaty moan as daryl bucks his hips involuntarily. the feeling of your hand on him alone was enough to nearly send him over the edge, he was only imagining what your mouth could do. but that wasn't for long, as you parted your lips and licked from his base to his tip, beginning to suck gently on it.
"fuck..." he mumbles, dragging the word out as his head falls back and his eyes close. his thick fingers tangled into your hair, pulling gently with much restraint.
his reaction encourages you, drawing you in as you take more of him in your mouth until you couldn't take anymore. your hand pumps whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth as you begin picking up the pace, using your tongue to swirl around the thick vein on the back of his cock. his moans and hisses of pleasure were like music to your ears as you felt him push and pull your head against him.
"that's it darlin', finally shuttin' up with this cock in your mouth," voice sultry, tone low, daryl's words went straight to your pulsing clit. "couldn't stop thinkin' about this, about you zippin' that mouth with me..." you moan against him, the vibration making his knees nearly buckle. he only pushes your head further down on him, making you gag as your eyes watered.
"like music to my ears." he growled, pulling against your hair once again.
to think that daryl had been thinking about this was indeed something. something that made you proud inside, the meant that you got under his skin and into his mind. maybe towards his dick too. but right now, as your knees burned against the dirt covered tile, as your scalp pulsed with every pull of your hair, and as his tip kept hitting the back of your throat with force, you couldn't be happier.
maybe this needed to happen, maybe your future self was rewarding you for putting the two of you in this situation. and you thanked her, over and over and over again. each drip of saliva down your chin, each squelching sound that came from between your lips and his cock, each throb of your clit, you were thanking her for.
"fuck, where did you learn this from? gonna make me cum already darlin'." his voice pulled you out of you thoughts as you looked up at him, only to find him looking down at you. watching you as if you were the world to him right now, and you hoped that deep down you would find yourself in this predicament more.
but as you felt him twitch inside your mouth you began to go faster, tightening your grip on him and hollowing your cheeks out more; earning a tight pull against your hair and the sight of daryl's mouth gapping open, eye brows furrowing, eyes squeezing shut as he finally released— cumming hard enough for you to swallow immediately as you kept going, riding out his high.
"holy fuck." he breathed out as you finally pulled away, using your thumb to catch anything that spilt from your lips and down your chin— sucking it clean afterwards as if you couldn't get enough.
"maybe i should argue with you more often." you smirked up at him, watching as he catches his breath.
but before he could say anything more you hear the sudden sound of familiar voices calling out to you and daryl followed by bodies hitting the ground and the whizz of silenced rounds being shot off. you immediately stood to your feet and brushed off your knees and shins, staring at your partner as he dresses himself with a smug look on his face.
"what'd i tell ya?"
—
hey guys! it’s be a long time, had this one in the drafts for a while and figured i had the time to finish it. kinda rushed the ending but i think it’s alright!
your fingers gently skimmed through the plethora of cd's that you had in your home in alexandria, a glass of whiskey held loosely in your free hand. it was a night after a harsh run and all you've been wanting to do was relax, wind down, drink, and listen to good music. and that's exactly what you did as soon as your fingers stopped on a three days grace cd. you had listened to them long before the outbreak, something your parents used to listen to while they drank and played pool with family friends.
you popped the disk in the cd player that had been in your home since you've claimed it, the guitar sending euphoric signals to your brain as you sipped lightly on the liquor. the familiarity of the rhythm brought you back to your roots, brought you back to the times you spent with your parents before the world had gone to shit. it was a happy feeling, despite the grief and sorrow you had felt deep down. but that didn't matter as you turned up the music and began to drink faster until you were no longer tipsy. drowning everything out as your vision blurred and your mind switched off.
you got carried away, like a piece of paper in the wind, as you swayed your hips and raised your arms in the air. your feet moved in sync with your head, swinging up and down; back and forth in a dizzying motion. your hair was flowing in every which way, drink spilling down your arm without you noticing. on any other occasion you would be embarrassed to dance this way, but in the privacy of your home with -seemingly- no one around you were having fun. something so rare nowadays.
as you went to take another swig of your drink you had realized it was empty, making you frown and turn to go and poor yourself another one. but instead of seeing an empty room, a figure was seen leaning against the wall by the front door. it made you jump out of your skin, nearly dropping the glass in your hand. you turned back around and lowered the volume of your radio all while your heart raced and thumped against your chest. you breathe in deeply, letting out a mumbled train of curse words under your breath. goddammit dixon.
"what in the fuck are you doing daryl!?" you exclaim, suddenly feeling a bit more sober. the fear that daryl had instilled in you for the brief moment was enough to do so. annoying. all the work you put in to wind down and now it was slowly slipping through your fingers.
"well i was knockin', you didn't answer so i helped myself in." he answered nonchalantly, holding up the spare key you had given him. though he scared the absolute shit out of you, you did say he was welcomed to come in whenever he wanted. he was your best friend for crying out loud, since you're days at the prison.
"well next time say something, asshole," you began, continuing on with your mission to get more alcohol in your bloodstream. "you scared the fuck out of me, i'm nearly sober by now." you added, slightly annoyed that your time of relaxation was abruptly ended even if it was for a short time.
"my bad, but honestly it was quite entertaining." the gruff man let out a low chuckle, making his way over towards you and helping himself to a glass of whiskey. you gave him a curious look, eyebrow raised and a small smile upon your lips. though you wanted to feel embarrassed that he caught you the way you had just been, dancing like a madwoman, you couldn't help but let it go as the liquor still flowed through your bloodstream.
"well, did you need something or are you just here to indulge in my stash?" you questioned, pointing towards him as he placed your whiskey bottle back down on the counter and took a slow sip. you watched as his eyes closed and he let out a low growl, pleasure evident on his features. it made you feel some type of way, heat rising to your core as you took another sip of your drink and eyed him from the rim of your glass. the only thing on your mind was how hot he was as he tilted his head back, watching his adam's apple move up and down.
"couldn't sleep, thought i'd see what you were up to." taking another sip from his drink, daryl grabbed the bottle once more and made his way over to the couch. he had no problem making himself at home in your house, finding comfort in you more than others. he felt as though he could be himself around you and that made you beyond content, though you weren't sure what it was about yourself that made him feel that way.
you shook your head to yourself, following suit with him and taking a seat on the coffee table across from him. you reached behind you and turned the music up as one of your favourite songs began to play. a song that everytime it was played, you would wrestle with your dad. the memory made you want to do it once more, however your dad was no longer around and it made you pout. nights like these are when you wish the world hadn't gone to shit.
daryl sent you a questioning stare, his eyebrow raising as he was about to ask you what was wrong. but before he could you raised a hand and motioned for him to stop, "i'm glad you came over, though you did interrupt my dance party." you let out a laugh and took another sip, feeling the burning loosen up as your drunken high started to return, "me and my dad would wrestle to this song, though i do have to admit i did kick his ass." it was cocky of you to say, but nonetheless you knew your dad loved when you bragged about it. he enjoyed seeing his daughter confident even though he would let you win majority of the time.
daryl didn't say much though, instead he stood up and pushed the couch back. you watched with amusement as he cleared the area. "well stand yer'ass up." he uses his hand to motion you to move and you obey like a dog, standing up instantly and watching him as he pushed the coffee table out of the way as well. once the living room was clear he swigged the rest of his drink and quickly poured himself another, taking it back like a champ again before standing in the middle of the now empty room.
"what did you do this for?" you asked, finishing the rest of your drink and instead of pouring more into your glass you gave up and began drinking out of the bottle. you planned on finishing it tonight anyways, so what's the harm?
"wrestle wi'me." he urged, bending his knees and holding his arms out like he was ready for you to pounce.
"you're kidding?" you laugh out, loudly. placing the bottle down and turning the radio up a bit more as you made your way over to him.
"dead serious. show me whatcha got." he motioned for you to come at him with his fingers, watching as he pulled them back and forth quickly. the amusement never left your mind, finding this night to be getting better and better by the minute.
"okay, but if you could talk with my dad right now he'd tell you that you best be careful, you'll get your ass kicked." though you were unstable on your feet, you could still manage to get into the same stance as daryl before lunging forward and trying to tackle him the ground by his waist. but instead of him falling to the ground, it was like your body hit a brick wall. you groaned out as you stumbled backwards, a shocked expression on your face as your cheeks flush red.
blame it on the alcohol.
"what was that about him saying you'd kick my ass?" he questioned, voice low as he let out a cackle to match. you ignored his taunting voice and instead went to lunge at him again, this time aiming for his legs. you laughed loudly as you watched him tumble to his ass, a low growl leaving his throat as he quickly recovered as to not allow you to pin him down.
"spoke too soon dixon." with an eyebrow raised you took a clumsy step closer to him again, making his arms go up into a defensive position. without hesitation you extended your arms and laid a powerful punch to his forearms, hearing his voice catch in his throat as he tried to hide the pain as he stumbled backwards. the small noise was enough to make you falter, the sound of it was enough to make that familiar heat rise to your core even more than it already was from earlier.
however, the falter was your demise; giving daryl the opportunity to kick your legs from beneath you in a mimic to what you had previously done to him. you hit the ground hard and let out a puff of air as you seethed the pain out from between your teeth and let out a strangled chuckle. all he did was let out a laugh, just like you did when you had him in the same position. however in his state of distraction, you manage to reach up and pull him by his shirt so he was now tumbling to the ground beside you.
in the heat of the moment, the much bulkier man was able to roll overtop of you. he had pinned your arms above your head and used his thighs to squeeze yours in place between them. "spoke too soon? what d'you mean? it seems like i won." his words didn't register in your head as you were too busy focusing on how he had you under him. how his face was close to yours, too close. how his grip on your wrists was just tight enough, how your legs were squeezed tightly between his so you couldn't move.
it made you feel helpless, like he could chose to do anything to you in the moment. and hell, you'd let him. you felt yourself throb from between your legs, the wetness pooling in your panties as your body began to intensely crave him. maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the underlying feelings you had towards him. you would never know unless he made the first move, you knew that much. daryl wasn't one to really show feelings this way, especially not to someone young like yourself. since you've known him he'd never been with anyone, however he always seemed to stick close to you.
"fine. you win." you whisper out too quick, not sure how your voice would carry if you spoke any louder. the feeling you felt towards the man on top of you had you nearly speechless and through your foggy mind and glazed-over eyes you could barely even look at him without feeling like jumping his bones. fuck.
"s'that easy? you ain't gonna put up a fight?" he questioned, his own voice getting low as he stared into your eyes, though it felt like your soul. but how could you put up a fight? with him pinning you like this, the only fight you wanted to be put up against was him making you orgasm over and over and over again. the thought made you moan, the sound never leaving the back of your throat as you tried to stifle it.
all you could do was nod as you felt a flush of red creep upon your cheeks once again, this time it wasn't the alcohol making the natural blush form. it was daryl. you weren't sure if he noticed or if he didn't, but the tension -whatever it was- was eating away at your every being. it caused you to wriggle under him, any friction was welcomed as the throbbing began to grow unbearable.
"what's the matter with you girl?" daryl spoke low, an eyebrow raised in curiosity as his eyes took in every inch of your red face. trying to catch your eyes, searching for an answer behind your eyes simultaneously. he was clueless.
"am i hurtin' you?" his voice suddenly filled with concern as he lets his grip loosen on your wrists. the sudden release made you groan out in annoyance. he wasn't hurting you, he was turning you on. like your drunken brain was taking everything he was doing and sending it straight to your clit.
as you finally gained the courage to look at him, you shook your head as your mind drew blanks. no thoughts ran through your head, except for the one that made you want to make a move. it was more like you needed to, needing the pressure between your legs to be extinguished by him and only him. hell if he didn't do anything, you wouldn't even touch yourself after. you wanted to save it for him to take care of.
your mind came back into focus when daryl suddenly used a hand to grip your face, squishing your cheeks slightly as he shook your head gently side to side, "cat got your tongue or what? you gonna answer me?" his voice demanding, dripping with dominance. something that you just couldn't help but be obedient to, listening just ask quick as someone could snap their fingers.
"you aren't hurting me." you felt so small as you mumbled the words out, relishing in the feeling of his hand and wishing he would just move it down to your throat and whisper in your ear how you were a good girl for answering him.
"so then what is it? you gonna use your words?" there he goes, voice demanding again. you could've sworn he knew what he was doing, the sight of his eyes growing darker as his pupils dilate and nearly send you over the edge.
but as you rack your brain to come up with an excuse for your sudden shift in mood, he suddenly shifts his legs to release yours and lets go of your wrists. he seemed like he was moving to get off of you and that was far from what you wanted. you cursed the older man for making you feel so flustered. and as if your body spoke for itself, without your brain having time to think of your actions, you find yourself reaching up and grabbing daryl's collar. you pull him back to his position on top of you. nice and close just how you wanted. "don't," you begin, voice full of plead. "just stay right here."
you squeezed your eyes shit tightly as the words sent a shiver down your spine, how could you be so dumb? practically begging him to stay on top of you simply because you're getting off to it? how come it was so hard to just tell him what you want even if you were drunk? he would for sure hate you after, or at least feel weird being around you. the thought made your heart ache, but you pushed it down with the liquor that mixed in your blood stream and took a deep and shaky breath in.
"y/n?" your voice leaving his lips was like music to your ears, better than any three days grace song. it made you're skin crawl with pleasure, "hey, open your damn eyes would ya?"
you couldn't respond, however his command made your eyes shoot open. the sheer fact that your body wouldn't let you disobey him made your legs weak and your hold on his collar tighten as your eyes met his. so blue, but so dark. like something had shifted beyond them, like his whole demeanour had changed from the once playful orbs you had witnessed moments ago to an almost sinful -burning- stare.
"i know what it is now, princess." the nickname had you a mess under him, as if you weren't already melting into the rug that was beneath your back. you stifle a small moan and couldn't help but arch your back slightly, at this point the friction that you craved from him was painfully obvious and you knew there was no getting out of it. his grip on your wrists tightened even more, the feeling of your hands loosing circulation turned you on more than you could imagine.
"if i knew that it would make you feel this way, i would've done it a long time ago woman." his words hit you hard, making you groan out as your back arched fully up into him and your legs moved together to try to gain friction once again. he reached down to grab your hands from their spot on his shirt, throwing them above your head and held you once more the way you liked. his eyes burned hard into you as he watched you nearly come undone beneath him.
"but you need to tell me what you want," he started, shifting to push your legs open with his own and pushing his knee up into your wet core. it made you gasp rather loudly, making his breath hitch in his throat. he could feel your heat through his jeans, and god did he think you were so hot beneath him. so ready for him. he was sure a majority came from the alcohol that you had consumed, but damn he wasn't complaining.
"i want you," you're voice was barely above a whisper as the feeling of his leg between yours was so intense, getting the friction that you had longed for since he had you pinned in this position. as if your body spoke for you, you bucked your hips upwards to grind on him. it earned you another hitch of his breath, the sound making you do it again.
"ah ah," daryl clicked his tongue, causing you to halt your movements. "what was that? i couldn't hear you."
"fuck daryl, i want you, just give me something. anything." you were practically begging him at this point. everything was too much, the throbbing you felt from your clit drove you mad. and despite his condescending tone that made you stop grinding against him, you couldn't help but do it again. it felt too good.
"thats ma'girl." he whispers, finally closing the rest of the distance that was between the two of you, crashing his lips against yours. there was nothing gentle about the kiss. it was filled with releasing tension, with a deep need. like the two of you couldn't control yourselves anymore.
you felt as his tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring as you reciprocated the motion. his grip on your wrists was becoming one that would leave bruises, but you didn't care. you liked it, feeling like he could just do anything to you and you'd let him. you wanted him to take full advantage of you, use every inch of your body to fulfill his every need. he could use you like a ragdoll for all you cared, fucking into you silly.
"fuck y/n." he breathed heavily, speaking against your lips, "can feel ya through my jeans, wet like that just for me." his words dripped with filth, and you liked it. you really fucking liked it. it made you moan against him loudly, rolling your body against his as you began to sweat lightly. the intense pleasure mixed with the whiskey was nothing you've ever experienced with anyone in the past.
"hmm, need more dar, need more of you." you whimpered out, the grinding not cutting it for you anymore. you needed something, whether it was his rock hard cock that you could feel rubbing against your thigh, or his hot and glistening lips that had been kissing your lips so good. hell even if he wrapped his hand around your throat, you just needed more.
"what do you need princess?" he asked, wanting you to tell him what to do. he would do anything you wanted, he was yours. as long as he got the words, the confirmation, he would do it. like he was mouldable putty from above you, though he just couldn't wait to get the words from you to be able to push his cock into your soaking cunt and do you until your screaming. the words he's been craving since he laid eyes on you.
"need your hand 'round my throat," you mumbled out, catching daryl by suprise. "need you to just use me. i'll be a good girl, take whatever you want, do whatever you want." his brain went blank, like he didn't know how to process all the emotion he was feeling. but fuck, how cute you were begging him to do anything to you. it made his heart swell and his dick twitch painfully. he needed release, but he was having too much fun with you to be over and done with the night.
he fulfilled your request and removed his grip from your wrists, moving his hand to your throat and relishing in how beautiful you looked in this position. how submissive you looked as his grip tightened, how your lips parted as a moan slipped through, how you never stopped grinding against his knee. goddamn. the man could barely catch his breath.
"you like that huh?" he asked, voice dripping with lust. you didn't respond right away though, too focused on the pressure building up in your clit, ready to burst at any minute. he hummed lightly to get your attention, leaning down and laying a chaste kiss on your lips. it was as if he was trying to bring you back to reality.
"love it, need more." how goddamn needy he thought you were, him fulfilling your wish not being enough for you. it made his mind run wild with possibility.
"patience. let me make you feel good, so goddamn fucking needy." he scowled, causing you to pout because you simply couldn't wait. you truly did need more of him, the evidence in how you've soaked through your underwear and spandex shorts; straight through to his jeans.
"only for you." you're voice was pure seduction to his ears, making his eyes light up with a new found sense of satisfaction. he was happy that he was the only one that made you feel this way, and he hoped that you were happy that you were the only one who could possibly ever get him so riled up that he couldn't contain himself.
he couldn't lie, this is what he wanted. daryl wanted nothing but to have you in this position for a long while now, just never knowing how you would feel about it. but when he came here tonight, it wasn't because he couldn't sleep, it was because he just wanted to see your beautiful fucking face. and when he opened the door, hearing the music omitting from within, watching as your hips swayed in your little shorts and baggy hoodie fit you just right, he almost couldn't help himself then and there.
without another thought and against your bratty little whines, daryl let you go and lifted himself off of you. when he finally sat up and took you in, your face so red, finger marks on your throat from his tight grip, how your chest fell up and down heavily, the small bit of drool that spilled from the corner of your mouth, it made his breath hitch as a small gasp escaped his lips.
"holy fuck," he smirked, deviously, "fuckin' beautiful, looking like this all for someone like me." his hands were put to work as he pulled your underwear and shorts down your legs, taking in the wet mark on them from your dripping pussy. "soakin' wet, ready for my cock. what a good little girl." a loud moan escaped your lips as you felt him stare you down, eyes locked with his as he placed sloppy kisses against your exposed stomach.
the gasp that omitted from your lips when you finally felt the archer's fingers on you was so loud that you could've sworn the neighbours could hear it clear as day. the feeling of his thick digits as they ran up and down your slick folds was something that you could only dream about until now, the pleasure was everything you thought it would be as he began circling your swollen clit.
"jesus christ," you breathed sharply through clenched teeth, throwing your head back and pushing your hips down for more pressure. "just like that." you praise as his fingers hit the right spot, causing you to suddenly feel like you'd explode. daryl hummed as he licked his lips, the scene before him was something from heaven itself. drawing him in, hyper focusing on the task at hand like never before.
with his spare hand you felt as he pushed a single finger inside you, earning a throaty, porn-like, squeal from you. the sound made his dick drip inside his pants, his need to just be inside you growing with every moment. the fuel of your beautiful sounds made him push another finger inside almost instantly, pumping in and out slowly. just enough to tease you and fuck was it working so damn good.
"feel like i'm gonna cum, can i? i've been so good for you daryl." your voice was laced with so much plead, moaning out each word as your breathing picked up so heavy that you felt like your lungs would collapse. as you glanced down at the man between your legs you felt like every inch of your body was on fire, the question meaning nothing as you knew you would hit your high regardless as he hooked his fingers upwards to hit that perfect spot.
"of course ya can princess, be a good girl and cum all over my fingers." with his confirmation and words of encouragement you finally felt everything release, the intense pleasure making your body convulse as your walls close around his digits that were still pumping inside of you. your vision was covered in black and white spots, mouth hung open as strangled breaths try to make their way to your lungs.
before you could even start to recover from the intense orgasm that daryl instilled upon you, he began to strip his boxers and jeans off. he couldn't wait anymore, didn't bother asking for confirmation. he just needed to feel what his fingers felt around his cock, to be able to release deep inside of you as you moan his name to the high heavens. loud enough for all of alexandria to hear. goddamn.
"gonna fuck you now, can't wait anymore." he warns you before gripping your hips to slide you towards him, lining himself up to you entrance.
"please." you whined in response, giving him the last bit of confirmation he needed before he began pushing inside of you slowly until he couldn't anymore.
"shit." the gruff man cursed, moaning quietly as he finally felt you around him. everything he's always wanted, right in his grasp, consuming his every sense and deeming him a wreck as he pulled all the way out and slid back into you a little faster. continuing the motions until the pace was fast and the sound of slapping skin was heard over your screams of pleasure, losing control as he dug his finger tips into your hips harshly. but that's not where you wanted his hands to be, causing you to reach down and grab his wrist.
you placed his hand around your throat once again as your body arches off the ground once more, feeling as daryl hit so deep inside of you that it sent a jolt through your whole body. "fuck daryl!" you scream out, one hand flying up the wrist of the hand around your neck while the other gripped and clawed at his bicep. you're whole body was tensed, jerking back and forth as his forceful thrusts started becoming unbearable.
"that's it baby, taking me so good. just a little longer," daryl seethes out in his own pleasure, picking up the speed even further, practically pounding you to the ground. all the built up tension finally bursting at the seams as he could feel you tightening around him even more, your second orgasm ready to knock you out. "such a good girl, feel so good." he commends, relishing in the sight below him before it was all over.
"can't take it anymore, please daryl, need to cum again." you choke out the beg, tears forming at the corner of your eyes as the jolts of pleasurable pain grow more intense. growing to the point where it's overwhelming you're entire being, tears beginning to spill as your breaths become shaky and deep.
"fuck woman," daryl's grip around your throat tightened even more as he felt the weight of your words, his movements suddenly shifting to sloppy thrusts, slow and deep, until he finally let out a loud grunt-like moan.
"cum for me, be a fucking good girl and cum around my cock." he demanded, voice raised as his vision became blurred. the intensity of his release bubbling to the surface as he felt you come undone around him. the feeling was enough to make him burst, finally spilling deep within your soaking pussy. his body felt so tense that he nearly collapsed on top of you, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as his mouth hung open, riding out the rest of his high as he felt himself spill from you.
"holy fuck daryl," you breathed out, "so good, so fucking good."
summary: olderboyfriend!daryl who leaves his horny girlfriend as he goes on a hunting trip, making her promise that she won't disobey his only order for her before he leaves.
warnings: olderboyfriend!daryl, younger!reader, dom!daryl, sub!reader, fem!masturbation, dirty talk, praise, chocking, fingering, spanking, mentions of bruising, unprotected p in v, mating press, oral (m!receiving) and (f!receiving), cream!pie, cum play (if you squint). probably more
setting: alexandria, no specific timeline.
word count: 5k+
PT.1 ✮ PT.2 ✮ PT.3
note: we have officially reached the end of the hunting trip series, thank you for sticking around and reading all 4 🙂↕️✨👏🏻
when you got home you didn't start right away. after all, it had been hours since you'd last spoke to him and it seems to you that he won't be home tonight anyways.
you happily made yourself some dinner, lounged around and read a book, had a nice warm shower, grabbed a snack even and put on a record so you had something to listen to. you also couldn't help but think about what could be running through daryl's mind after what you had told him.
it made your stomach flutter with anxiety, but also a fair mix of excitement. you were about to do something you've never done, and that was blatantly disobey your boyfriend.
was he thinking of ways to punish you? thinking of ways he would make you crawl for him inevitably? ways to make you bow down to his every command until you were so spent that you couldn't speak? the thoughts made you shiver so hard that your ear drums shook.
however, the thoughts also only caused a heavier thump, thump, thump to your clit as you whimpered slightly. god you just couldn't wait anymore. the past three days he was gone were hell for you and your poor cunt. fluttering around nothing for nearly 72 hours.
totally unfair in your books.
so without anymore stalling, your heart skipped a beat with thrill and you decided that you would finally get what you wanted. no— needed. you didn't even want to wait until you were in your bedroom, your brain going blank as you strip from daryl's track pants and your panties before laying on the love seat.
"finally..." you whisper to yourself as you guide a shaky hand to your mouth, sucking too fingers and coating them with salivary lube. you then trail them down your chin, over your chest, between the mounds of your breast and past your stomach until you land on the one thing that has been giving you the most trouble.
with a heavy whimper, you began to slowly circle around your clit— savouring the way that it felt as long as possible. you weren't sure if you'd last long, quite embarrassingly, but you knew that you'd try your hardest.
might as well make the punishment worth it.
the feeling of stimulation made you begin to pant, a sheer layer of sweat forming across your forehead. you picked up the pace of your fingers, circling faster and faster before suddenly stopping to move your fingers down between your slick-covered folds.
you've hardly ever fingered yourself, always leaving that to daryl before. god his fingers felt divine compared to yours. but right now, you couldn't help yourself. you needed to feel something inside you, wether it was him or not.
though it didn't feel the same, you still moaned out pornographically as you began fucking yourself with your own two digits. the sound of your pussy squelching with your own wetness so obscene, contrasting harshly with the faint melody of tool playing on the record player.
"you're such a dirty girl, disobeying your elders." you chuckled to yourself, voice hushed as if there was someone who could possibly hear it even though your were painfully alone. you were doing everything daryl would, dirty talking about how much younger you were. how much older he was. it only made your pussy clench around your fingers.
"gonna cum without him, gonna enjoy the punishment after." the venom that dripped from your tongue towards your own self made you feel the coil build up tightly in your lower abdomen. your mind was off in another dimension as you worked yourself through.
to help yourself out some more you brought your free hand up to your breast, squeezing it harshly before using your thumb and index finger to roll and pinch at your hardened nipple. the feeling alone made your back arch off of the couch cushion, neck tensing as your legs grew tingly with pleasure.
"s-shit— fuuuck." sweet curses fell from your mouth as you finally felt the coil snap, hips lifting from the cushion of the couch and jerking as you came hard around your own fingers. your vision went blurry and patchy with stars, head feeling heavy with pleasure, and the sweet— oh so sweet— feel of your honey dripping down to the cushions below.
when the euphoria wore thin, you finally relaxed your body onto the couch and removed your fingers from your puffy and sopping cunt. you could've sworn that your body had been lifted to heaven as your ears began ringing and your vision began to clear.
"did ya have yer fun?"
your heart dropped to your ass at the sudden boom of a southern drawl, jumping from the couch to your feet as you squealed and felt the blood rush from your head to toes. when you finally came to, after nearly having a heart attack, you seen daryl standing idly by the front door.
his chest was heaving up and down quickly, looking like he was going to snap at any moment.
you must've been so deep in pleasure that you didn't hear him come in, and the only thing you could think about as you watched him carefully was how absolutely, undeniably, screwed you were going to be. literally and physically.
"fuck daryl, you scared me!" you yell, trying to cover up how nervous you had gotten in the span of seconds.
"oh i'm so sorry, angel," he spat, clearly sounding so angry that you could feel it radiating off of his entire being. "did i ruin yer pleasure?" a hint of sarcasm too.
fuck.
you couldn't find the words to answer him, all you could do was look into his steel blue's and try not to give in to the dominance behind his glare. you were so adamant on staying strong this whole time as you fucked yourself, so you couldn't possibly submit now. right?
"what? cat got yer tongue now? talking such a big fucking game over that walkie, fucking yerself and disobeyin' me while i watched?" the loud thud of his crossbow hitting the floor, along with his backpack, made you jump slightly. watching as he slowly takes a few steps towards you.
"didn't even know i was here, just kept goin' and goin' until ya made a damn mess of our couch," daryl let out a low chuckle, one that sent shivers down your spine as he was now mere inches away from you. "you've been a bad girl angel, what happened to bein' so sweet and good?"
"what happened to the promise i pounded into ya 'fore i left?"
your brain couldn't think about anything, couldn't come up with a solid response to anything he was saying or asking. you were in disbelief that he had actually returned to you as you requested, that he was here in front of you. the anticipation was eating at you, causing your pussy to grow wet again and for the guilt to settle in.
"ya don't got anythin' to say at all?"
"i'm glad your home?" was all your brain could sputter out as you felt yourself slowly grow smaller and smaller in his wake. the answer made his eyes darken and his chest rise and fall so hard that it made you quiver.
"don't get all smart with me, use yer damn words." with a sudden motion, he had you flipped and bent over the arm rest of the couch; ass up and face down, purposefully into the wet spot you had created on the cushion.
you could only let out a pathetic moan, inhaling your own sent not by choice.
"i tried— fuck.. i tried so hard to be so good for you, couldn't take it anymore. it hurt; so needy for you that it hurt." with a whimper and a slight sob you could only attempt to just point back at your once again aching cunt. the feeling of your slick dripping down your legs made you moan again.
"all ya had to do was wait, a couple more hours angel. i got that buck, dragged it back here. but now," he laughed lightly as he bent over your back, already hardened cock rubbing against your ass through his cargos, "i'll have my way with ya, make ya my pretty little play thing. don't matter how many times ya cum on my cock, ya'll learn to listen next time."
"i tried daryl, i couldn't wait any longer. i was going strong i promise. please, forgive me." you weren't against him using you as his own personal pocket pussy, but you did want him to forgive how you acted out. the first sign in his books that he was slowly gaining control over you again. even just the slightly higher tone of voice gave it away.
"ah, ah, ah—" he clicks his tongue, "that's not how ya refer t'me angel, let me hear it now." you knew then and there that you were totally under his control once again, and who were you kidding to even try not to be? your brain went blank, body relaxing under him, and you are sure that your pupils are so dilated that your eyes looked black.
"m'sorry sir, please forgive me." your soft voice was like music to daryl's ears, as one of the names that he loves rolls off your tongue so delicately that he felt like he could die.
"see if ya can take what i'm about to give ya and then we will talk about forgiveness angel." with that he laid an open handed smack to your left asscheek, eliciting a yelp-like moan from your soft and plump lips. on instinct your pussy clenches around nothing again and the want for him grows as you push back into his clothed dick.
"yes sir." you answer, allowing him to begin the punishment that you were so secretly excited for. you loved when he was rough with you, had his way with you, thriving off of being his little sex slave. even if it's not as often as you'd prefer.
"good girl— ya know the safe word. not that it'll help ya much right now." a shiver coursed through you from head to toe, knowing that this will be so bad in such a good way. you gulped hard as you caved in to him, letting him slap your ass three more times in the same spot before his calloused hand traveled down south.
"look at that, my angel is so wet just for this cock. ya'll get it, and ya'll get it good." pure malice dripped with every word that fell out of his mouth as he coated his fingers with your slick, pushing two inside at once. not allowing you to adjust before he's roughing pumping them in and out of you.
you gripped onto the couch anywhere your hands could as you moaned so loud you could swear the neighbours would hear. his fingers curling up and grazing the soft, sponge-like, material of your cervix.
"fuck— god it feels so g-" before you could finish your sentence he slapped your ass again, making you cry out in painful pleasure. you're sure you had a welt the size of daryl's hand growing in multiple different angles, red and angry and bruised.
"i don't wanna hear words right now angel, all i wan' are those pretty, slutty, noises."
god you were in for such a treat, he hasn't been this angry ever with you.
"yes sir." you answer again with a pant, knowing that it'll be the last words that fall from your lips until given the permission. instead, you moan and whine and mewl as his fingers go faster and faster until suddenly you could feel the return of the oh so familiar coil that was tightening so tight and so fast that you felt you were going to explode.
"yer close angel, can feel ya squeezing my fingers. don't want 'em out of this tight pussy," his leaned forward even more, crushing you between his chest and the arm rest of the couch. lips grazing your shoulders, and his other hand traveling up and around your throat, he whispers into your ear— "clearly yer fingers weren't right, only mine can make ya scream."
his voice, ever so husky and raspy in your ear, is what sent you spiralling. you fought so hard not to scream his name as you came hard on his fingers, body shaking and legs nearly collapsing. the only sound coming from you was the strain of a moan so loud it was boarding a scream as his hand gripped your throat tighter.
"that's it, sounds so pretty." he praised, gripping your arm harshly and flipping you around so you were facing him.
daryl's pupils blew wide, covering the blue that you loved so much with a black void as he takes in your state. face red, marked by the couch where your cheek had been pushed down, hair a mess, a light line of drool dripping down your chin, and your eyes brimmed with tears.
"wish i could take a picture of ya right now, this fucked out just from my fingers." he smiled almost evilly at you, leaning in to give you a sloppy and heated kiss. the angle of his head made it so that he was able to smell your juices that you had been pushed into on the cushion, that made your face damp.
"hmm— fuck ya smell so good, can't wait to taste ya anymore." he rasped, breaking the kiss only to seal it again moments later. he broke the kiss again, pushing you down so your back was nearly onto the same cushion your face was pressed into.
the crack and pop of your spine was audible as your hips were now on the arm rest of the love seat, pussy in the air as daryl dropped to his knees and threw your legs over his shoulders. he roughly pulled you towards him, the sudden feeling of his tongue licking a strip up your folds made you jolt back in pleasure. another whimper leaving your mouth.
you could've sworn that he would literally eat you up, how hard and fast he was eating you out. it drove you crazy, hand reaching down to tangle in his hair for more only to earn you a harsh smack to your glistening pussy. you mewled at the feeling, wanting his hot mouth back on you.
"hands to yerself angel, do i need to tie them or can ya listen this time?" his words were a jab to the fact that you didn't listen to him about touching yourself in the first place, making you whine but nod nonetheless. "good girl."
he continued to lick up and down your folds, grazing over your clit so deliciously that it left you craving more. the feeling of his tongue sliding so effortlessly down to your hole, puncturing it so good, made you arch your back impossibly more than it already was in the awkward position.
in order to keep your hands busy you brought them up to hold your tits, hoping that he would let it slide because fuck you needed something to brace yourself. you felt like you would sink into the couch, into a melting puddle of pure bliss as his dragged his tongue back to your clit and sucked it into his mouth. your eyes rolled back and your mouth fell open though no sound came out, body too tense from the pleasure to allow it.
you couldn't even get a gasp of air in, just the chocked sounds of you suffocating on the bliss of the moment. too wrapped up in the feeling of your release tiptoeing on the surface, you knew you wouldn't last another couple of seconds if he kept sucking and nibbling your bundle of nerves.
"breathe baby, breathe, let me hear ya cum again." daryl raised a hand up around your thighs and pressed on your diaphragm, causing you to gasp in a breath and finally release a squeal-like pornographic groan from deep within your chest as you came for the third time in nearly an hour.
your vision was teetering on the verge of black, chest rising and falling like you had just ran a marathon, thighs clenched so tight around daryl's head that even he let out a strangled moan. he made quick work of lapping at your release before prying your legs apart and standing back on his feet.
"seriously angel, wish ya could see yerself. fucking gorgeous when i ruin ya." his compliments made you blush though you're sure he couldn't even tell, face so hot that you knew deep down it was already red as a tomato.
daryl grabbed you by your bicep, pulling you up too fast. your vision goes dark and you see stars once again, raising a free arm to brace yourself against his solid chest. you're whole body felt like it was on fire, pleasure seeping through every pore. this is what you wanted, what you deserved tonight.
and the worst part is; you knew it wasn't even near over.
"since ya won't be needin' that pretty mouth for talkin', might as well put it to use elsewhere." his voice vibrated through your body as you're vision started to clear, pushing yourself up to look at him with those doe eyes that he loved so much. "get up now angel, on them knees."
at his command you stood to your feet, still bracing yourself against his chest as your legs wobbled. it felt like you were gonna fall over at any moment, body feeling so weak from the back to back orgasms. but it didn't matter, this was your punishment. and deep down you loved it.
he guided you to the couch, taking a seat while you not-so-gracefully fall to your knees in front of him— too horny to be embarrassed about it. with his hands fallen slack at his sides he allows you to unbuckle his belt and discard of his pants and boxers, cock springing free from its painful restraints.
once you were able to fully look at what you wanted to badly your mouth watered, drool already beginning to flow down your chin again as you're brain continued on in it’s fuzzy emptiness. the way he looked, cock hard as a rock, red, veins so thick that you could already feel him inside you. your cunt once again pulses with heat and lust, craving him more than ever.
hand reaching up, you take him in your smaller hand and give one pump to his length before leaning forward to place a kiss to his leaking tip. you lick the pre off your lips and whimper at the taste before finally taking him in your mouth, moaning at the way he felt.
you swore that you enjoyed it more than him right now as you could practically feel yourself dripping again, despite the fact that you'd already been strung out. the more you take of him, the more your body reacts until you finally have him all the way; nose touching his lower abdomen.
"shit— there ya go, so good." daryl's raspy voice is what you focused on, relishing in his pleasure. all you ever wanted to do was make him feel good, wether it's with your mouth or your body. as long as he was satisfied you could give less of a shit.
"hmm," you moan against him, starting to move your head up and down. using your hand to grasp whatever couldn't fit as you moved quicker, swirling your tongue along the vein that ran along the back of his cock. at the feeling he jolted up in bliss, throwing his head back against the backrest of the couch.
"god i love when ya do that angel, keep goin'." and listen you did, applying more pressure with your tongue and continuing the circular motions whilst bobbing your head with watered eyes. your body moved back and forth, grinding on nothing as you continued your ministration.
feeling every twitch of him in your mouth you whined, knowing that he was close already. especially when he snaked a hand through your hair and began pulling your head up and down, fucking your mouth so hard that you could feel him in your throat. his grunts and low moans filled the house along with your gags and muffled cries.
the way he was using you made you nearly cum for the fourth time, pussy pulsing so much that it drove you crazy.
daryl drove you crazy.
"gonna fill yer mouth angel, gonna fill ya up so good. fuck—" one more agonizing thrust into your mouth and daryl finally came, hot ropes of white spilling down the back of your tongue and throat. he kept his cock in your mouth until he was sure that you swallowed every drop of his release before pulling out with a hiss.
pulling you back to your feet with him, daryl pulled you in for another kiss. sloppy, harsh, all teeth and tongue, tasting himself on your tongue. fuck it made you want to touch yourself once again just to feel the pressure release that you felt down south. it felt so strong that you couldn't help but whimper and sob before him, body trembling as tears break free.
he pulled away from the kiss, bringing his hands up to your cheeks and wiping the tears away. "yer being so good angel, nearly forgive ya. need to be in that perfect little cunt before i make the final decision." leaning in, daryl places a chaste kiss to your forehead before laying you onto the couch.
he stared at you intently, taking in how your hair sprawled out messily on the cushion below, lips red and wet with saliva, how you're eyes dart all over his face; so wild and so crazy, yet so filled with love and lust. he couldn't help but wonder how he landed someone like you, someone who would allow him to do this.
writhing and rubbing your thighs together, you couldn't help but whimper and raise a hand to tug at his shirt to gain his attention. you didn't care if you'd get lectured or spanked, you cared about wanting his attention all on you. for him to help you and make you feel good once again, although you were in an active punishment and he was more than likely doing this for himself.
"look at ya, so damn desperate. came three times and still want more?" he coos, reaching down to tuck a strand of hair back behind your ear. shamelessly wanting to see how the flush on your face traveled down your neck and behind the shell of your ear, the sight made his cock twitch. "speak."
as soon as the command hit your eardrums, you moaned out, "yes sir, so desperate. please, i need you. i need you to teach your little angel a lesson so bad." your sultry words were music to his ears, "please use me, use me until i've learned."
your words draw a low rumble-like moan from deep within daryl's chest, his eyes darkening with obsession. he looks at you with something boarding a starved man, like what he had already taken from you wasn't even close to enough to quench whatever rummaged through him. it made you whimper, tears threatening to spill again as the ache in your core was growing to be too much.
"such a good girl f'me, listenin' so good now," his fingers skim across the bottom hem of his black button up shirt, not bothering with the hassle of undoing each one and just lifting it over his head. your eyes immediately travel from his face, down to his neck, then his chest, and toned abdomen. the sight of him made your mouth water. "now let's see how much more ya can handle."
daryl crawls on top of you, pulling your legs over his shoulders right away with a light grunt. you were already a moaning mess before he could even push his tip in, but once he did and once you felt the stretch of his length entering your pussy all you could do was lose control of everything.
your hands gripped at your chest again, your head tensed back against the cushion. your sounds of pure pleasure seeped through every crack and crevasse in the house as every inch of daryl was felt along your pussy walls, clenching around him as if you wanted to lock him there. as if you wanted his tip to stay permanently against the spongy walls of your cervix.
without giving you any time to adjust, he began a relentless pace. boarding the speed of rabbits, balls slapping against your ass as he bent down to hover inches from your face. he knew that picking a young partner had its perks, bending you down into a mating press was very easy. and it’s just the way he liked it.
it made you scream out, throat beginning to hurt with how loud you had become underneath him. his name leaving your lips as if you didn’t know what to refer to him as, “daryl, sir, daryl, sir.” each name in rhythm with his hips snapping his cock into you. you were lucky that he was already being relentless, his actual name would’ve earned you another slap somewhere— wether it’s your ass or your pussy.
“that’s it angel, take it,” he grunted, chest heaving in exertion, “fucking take it like the bad girl you are.” his words made you clench around his cock, “couldn’t fucking wait a few more hours. had to disobey me. had to be punished.”
your fully submitted to him, brain empty, the only thing you could focus on was the building tension in your stomach and the need to be used until you passed out or until he was done with you. your eyebrows furrowed, raising your head to look at daryl. beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he concentrated all of his attention into his dick as it abused your hole.
every inch of your body felt like it would explode, his tip hitting your cervix over and over and over again. he knew it would bruise, but he didn’t care. you could use the safe word, but you didn’t want to. you felt like you deserved this in the state you were in. and because of that you felt yourself clench around him once again.
“ya gonna cum again huh? already? yeah that’s right.” he grinned as his pace picked up, the obscene sounds of your pussy squelching around him pushing him on. the way you fluttered, the way your pupils had blown wide, the way your body was reacting to him by trying to push up to meet his thrusts. he knew you were gonna break again.
and that you did, head once again thrown back as you arch your back so hard that it hurt. you ignored it, the pleasure erupting in your sopping cunt too strong. you gushed around him, a stentorian moan ripping from your lungs as you felt the air leave them. you’d never had an orgasm this intense, never experienced what it was to be in heaven while your heart was still beating.
but despite how tense your body had become from the orgasm that was still ripping through you down to your soul, daryl kept pounding you into the couch. true to his word, he wasn’t going to stop until you either used the word that you had mutually agreed on in a way that concerned him— or until he was through with you. you found it hard to find your breath as you tried to recover, but it only made your clit thrum again.
you couldn’t tell if he was close yet or not, and the overstimulation brought a fresh set of tears to your eyes as you writhed beneath him. you knew that it was no use, muscles strong from years of slaying walkers and hunting. you were helpless beneath him and you fucking loved it.
“look at that, crying from how good i’m fuckin’ this tight cunt.” steel blue eyes bore into your own, an devilish grin falling upon his features. you knew he was thriving off of your reactions. “can feel myself bottoming out, fits perfectly angel. wish ya could see how my cock is abusing ya.” words like poison.
you whimpered and cried and grabbed your tits harder, babbling randomly. his name? his name for you? daryl wasn’t sure, but what he was sure of was the fact he felt his own release forming dee within himself finally. brought on by your quivering cunt, the shake in your body, the jerk of your hips as your previous orgasm sent aftershocks throughout.
“beg me. beg me to fucking forgive you, let me hear it baby.” his face comes closer than before, pressing his weight further into you. the new angle made you shake harder as he continued to bruise your insides further, hitting your g-spot tenfold now.
“please sir— fuck, please— please forgive me,” you felt the spring build up too quickly again as your words spew out like you were drunk, “shit! please! i beg of you, forgive me, i promise to never do it again.” though you could barely speak, you managed to sound somewhat coherent and that was enough for daryl.
his hips slap harshly against yours, going impossibly faster as he chased his high. you couldn’t even moan anymore on the contrary, all you could do was cry as you were officially overstimulated and sore. but that didn’t stop you from feeling another orgasm about to snap.
“aweh fuck angel, that’s it. gonna fill ya up now, fill ya ‘til you can’t take anymore,” with a raspy moan, daryl felt like he was right there as his pace grew relentlessly sloppy and deep. a telltale sign to you that he was about to blow his load. “ya’ll feel me dripping from this cunt for days.”
and just as you predicted, the feeling of daryl’s warmth filling you and the sound of his strangled moans made your final orgasm tear through your every being. the combination of his thick ropes shooting into your womb and the feeling of squirting around his dick made your vision go black as you slumped down into the couch, body sore from tensing so much.
“good girl, such a good girl for me.” you could barely hear the praise through the ringing in your ears and you couldn’t move, even as he pulled his softening cock from your overly sensitive and abused cunt. not even when he used two fingers to push his cum back within your hole as it dripped down your ass and onto the couch.
if he was angry about you ruining the cushion earlier, than he should be livid and boiling now.
“ya there angel?” he released your legs, gently putting them down and around his waist. he knew that they were numb.
“mhmm, m’here sir, do you forgive me?” was all you could mumble out in your fucked out state, brain still trying to reboot as your head lolled back and forth. “i can give you more if you don’t.”
any normal—rational— human being wouldn’t have said those words to someone who just ruined their pussy and made them orgasm 4 times back to back, but you weren’t rational and you certainly weren’t normal.
“my sweet girl, i forgave ya ‘fore i even got home.” he chuckled with another devilish smile on his face.
summary: usually the dead don’t protect humans, or so we thought.
warnings: zombie!reader, kinda angst, mentions of killing, established relationship, intentional age!gap though not mentioned, no use of y/n, unedited., physical violence, arguing, desperate!reader, yearning!reader, eventual smut as the fic goes on.
setting: alexandria (post-whisperers)
word count: 4.4k+
notes: i’m sorry if this actually sucks ass, i really wanted to get a chapter out for you guys and it’s currently 11pm right after my shift at work 😭. please don’t hate me for the scattered updates, striking is not fun.
credits: @tophollands inspired me to do this as they have a zombie!leon fic and we’ve established this theme would work well in twd. they were inspired by @quackysprouts zombie!leon art as well.
divider credit: @solitary-serendipity
ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ
since the incident in the woods and back at home, daryl had kept his distance from you. it had been three days now, and every one of them had felt longer than the last— he didn't know what to do or say, or even how to think around you anymore. every time his mind drifted back to that night, guilt twisted in his stomach.
he felt embarrassed, ashamed even.
he felt as though he had taken advantage of you in your state without ever laying an implied hand upon your body.
how dare he?
how dare he take such care of you and do what was right by you, only to go ahead and jerk off to the picture of your dead naked body that had been engraved into his mind? his brain clearly hadn't been thinking before his dick and the realization ate away at him constantly.
it lingered when he brought you your clothes that night. it lingered when he helped slide his shirt over your head and your little spandex pajama shorts up your plush thighs. hell; it lingered every time he looked at you and remembered exactly what he'd done afterward.
he felt perverted in a way, never thinking this would've been an issue until then. the guilt settled heavily in his chest, making it difficult to separate his feelings for you from the shame he felt toward himself.
no matter how much he tried to justify it, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd crossed some invisible line, even if you were his girl.
so he left you alone.
it was the only way he knew how to handle the situation right now, or at least until his emotions were back in check.
he had even gone as far as telling michonne to keep more of an eye on you in his absence, convincing himself that it was what was best for both of you. but something deep inside him twisted like a serrated knife every hour that passed without seeing you.
every update he didn't receive left him restless.
every moment away from you felt wrong. but nonetheless, he powered through and got ready to leave with aaron to recruit new members for the community. it was his quote-unquote job, after all.
he tried to treat it like any other run, tried to act like nothing had happened— like you didn't exist, like you hadn't survived the whisperers, like he wasn't hiding one of the biggest secrets alexandria had ever seen.
all in the name of keeping you safe.
he had vowed to himself—and to you—that he would do anything in his power to keep you alive. but unfortunately, while daryl threw himself into work and distractions, you were left behind with nothing but your thoughts.
and without him, it felt like you were dying.
your emotions were out of sorts as you paced the small floor space of your cell, michonne staring at you the way a stressed mother looked at a child acting out.
you couldn't take it anymore.
cold hands reached up into your hair, tugging lightly at the roots as you groaned out in annoyance.
"you know, maybe it's good that you have a break. it's healthy." she tried to sound optimistic— you gave her credit for that, but it just wasn't helping. it felt as though a part of you was missing and your brain couldn't stop cycling through the same possibilities.
daryl: unsafe, hurt, alone.
you swore your heart was breaking. in response, you deadpanned at her and dropped your arms back to your sides.
"i know it's not what you want to hear, but it's what you'll have to learn to understand. he's safe. he's with aaron. you know aaron." she chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.
michonne didn't know how to handle you the way daryl did. she wasn't used to navigating the complicated mess of emotions and instincts that made up your current state.
so all she could do was rely on her better judgment, even if it was failing her miserably right now. you ignored her and resumed pacing as the thoughts only grew louder.
daryl. unsafe. need to protect.
protect.
protect.
and there was one glaring issue, aaron wasn't you. you couldn't watch daryl's back from inside this cell, you couldn't be his hero, you couldn't keep him safe. the frustration climbed steadily until it felt unbearable.
"i can see the gears moving in your head through your eyes. relax. he'll be fine." she wasn't entirely wrong because the gears were moving, just not in the way she thought.
while she believed you were worrying yourself sick, you were actually trying to form a plan.
getting out of here was considerably harder in your walker-fied state, but eventually an idea began to take shape. to any normal person, it would've seemed full of holes.
but desperation rarely cared about logic.
and you were so, so desperate for daryl's attention that you would've gone to any lengths to get to him. the thought rooted itself deep in your mind until it became the only thing you could focus on— daryl wouldn't be fine unless you were out of your cage and by his side.
and that realization pissed you off the most. the thought rooted itself deep in your mind until it became the only thing you could focus on.
michonne could see it happening in real time.
she watched your hands begin to shake. watched your pacing come to an abrupt halt. watched the way your expression seemed to tighten as your thoughts spiraled further and further away from reason.
she didn't know what to do, she didn't know what to say. every attempt she'd made to calm you had only seemed to make things worse. before she could think of another approach, you started moving.
slowly at first, but then with purpose as you crossed the small distance toward the cell door and wrapped pale fingers around the metal bars. the moment your grip tightened, michonne's stomach sank.
you pulled, hard.
the entire door rattled beneath the force.
you wanted so badly to scream, to tell her exactly what was wrong, to explain that daryl was out there and vulnerable and needed you. but the words simply wouldn't come— they never did anymore.
all that escaped your throat were frustrated groans and distressed moans as you yanked harder on the bars, metal clanging loudly through the room. again and again and again.
your distress was obvious, your pain was obvious, and worst of all, your panic was turning into anger. yet even through the haze clouding your mind, one thing remained crystal clear. this was the only way. unfortunately, michonne seemed to realize exactly where your head was at.
"you're not coming out. daryl and i made that very clear." her voice lost some of its earlier sympathy as she pushed herself off the stool— the stool daryl practically lived on these days.
she approached the cell with long, determined strides. "it's not safe for you right now. people will find out." she stopped in front of the bars.
"and trust me, you don't want that." you shot her a glare, eyes narrowing as your jaw clenched tightly. the warning only made your frustration worse, face growing hot as your vision began to tunnel.
you were losing yourself— slipping further into that familiar haze where instinct became louder than thought. and there was nothing anyone besides daryl had ever been able to do about it.
your hands tightened around the bars, pulling again but this time harder— the hinges squealing and the metal rattling violently. the noise echoed through the room loudly enough that michonne glanced nervously toward the door. if anyone outside heard this...
everything would fall apart.
"stop that." she hissed the words and almost immediately her hand settled on the handle of her katana. the movement aggravated you even more as your eyes flicked down to the weapon.
how dare she? how dare she look at you like some threat when all you wanted was to protect daryl? how was that so difficult for everyone to understand? you shook your head.
no.
your vocalizations grew louder and more desperate, more frantic. the ache in your chest had become unbearable and your stomach twisted painfully as you continued pulling against the bars— every word michonne spoke seemed to slide right past you. for every passing minute, daryl could be getting hurt. for every passing minute, he could be alone. for every passing minute, he could need you.
and apparently michonne's emotions were beginning to get the better of her too, watching as her hand moved away from her sword and toward the ring of keys hanging from her belt loop. immediately, you stepped back and your muscles tensed; your hands flexing the same way you did while attacking the walker yesterday, the feeling itself all too familiar.
your body preparing itself before your brain could catch up, eyes remaining narrowed as you watched her approach and she slid a key into the lock, the click echoed loudly between you.
"now listen here." her voice rose as frustration finally broke through.
"i need to do what's right for my people. i cannot have you throwing a tantrum because daryl isn't here." the door swung open and you instinctively retreated another step, and then another as michonne stepped inside.
and this time she wasn't carrying a katana, she was drawing the knife from her leg holster. your eyes immediately locked onto it, every instinct inside you screamed danger.
"now since you won't listen to me, i'm going to have to take matters into my own hands." she exhaled sharply and her hands were shaking. whether from fear or guilt, you couldn't tell.
"daryl will forgive me later." she advanced slowly and carefully trying not to provoke you. unfortunately, it was already too late.
"we don't need an uproar in alexandria because a dead girl can't stay away from her boyfriend."
the words hurt. they hurt more than they should have, but the sting barely had time to settle before instinct took over. despite the haze clouding your mind, you immediately understood the danger. you saw the way she raised the knife, saw the blunt end aimed toward your skull.
and you knew exactly what was coming; she was trying to knock you out but you reacted before she could and the second she swung, you moved. the weapon missed and suddenly everything happened at once.
if you'd been in your right mind, maybe you'd have been shocked, maybe you'd have questioned how things had escalated this far, maybe you'd have stopped to wonder how your friend had become an opponent. but none of that mattered now. all you knew was that something stood between you and daryl and it needed to move.
you lunged forward, your hands grabbing her by waist and using your momentum, you dragged her down with you. the impact knocked the air from her lungs. before she could recover, you were already straddling her torso.
too fast, far too fast for michonne's liking.
one hand immediately locked around her wrist— the wrist holding the knife. you slammed it against the floor.
once, twice, three times.
again, again, and again until the blade finally slipped free— metal clattering across the concrete. your other hand found her throat and squeezed, hard.
michonne's eyes widened as she grabbed at your arm and fought against your grasp, struggling and thrashing in the process. but it wasn't enough, she hadn't seen what you were capable of yet, she hadn't watched you tear through walkers— hadn't seen what happened when your instincts took over.
and right now, your instincts were entirely focused on reaching daryl, finding daryl, protecting daryl. everything else came second.
despite the position she was in, michonne still fought hard beneath you. she was lucky, lucky that you weren't in the mindset to kill her.
"s-stop!" the word barely escaped her as your grip tightened harder.
"you d-don't know w-what you're doing!" her voice grew weaker, more strained, and her vision began to blur. little did she know that you believed the exact opposite. you knew exactly what you were doing, you were finding your way back to the person holding you together— the person keeping you anchored, keeping the haze at bay.
you could feel her pulse weakening beneath your palm, feel her movements slowing, feel the fight leaving her body. and eventually, her struggles stopped altogether as her body went limp.
the room fell silent for several seconds as you simply stared, waiting and watching to make sure she wasn’t going to get back up and stop you. but when she didn’t move, you finally released her and stood slowly to your wobbly feet— your chest still heaving and your hands still shaking while your thoughts were still consumed by a single objective.
daryl.
you stepped over michonne's unconscious body and moved toward the open door. somewhere deep in your memory, you recalled the hidden route daryl used when he got you beyond the walls not so long ago. it kept you unseen and the route kept you safe.
without another glance behind you, you shuffled into the hallway carefully and quietly with a newfound determination; because no one could have the chance to stop you now, and no one was going to keep you from getting to him.
that gut feeling you had turned out to be justified.
while you were sneaking your way out of alexandria, daryl was having a hard time convincing himself everything was fine.
he wished he had you with him, wished he hadn't spent the last day avoiding you, wished he could stop thinking about you long enough to focus on the task at hand. but unfortunately, the world rarely cared about what people wished for.
while him and aaron were searching a small two-level strip mall a few miles out, a horde had eventually passed through. a big one. far too big for two men to comfortably handle.
what started as a simple supply run quickly became a fight to stay alive and somewhere during the scramble for safety, daryl had fucked up his foot. he still wasn't entirely sure how it happened, one second he had been running and the next he had caught his boot on a piece of loose wiring hanging from the collapsed ceiling.
pain exploded through his leg as he stumbled and nearly went down— only barely managing to catch himself before the walkers behind him closed the distance.
now, limping through the abandoned building, he cursed himself for the mistake— but a part of him blamed the distraction on you. not because you had done anything wrong (because you hadn't, you weren't even there) but somehow you occupied every corner of his mind even when the task at hand was risky.
the further he got from alexandria, the worse it became, his thoughts constantly circled back to you. were you okay? were you improving? were you upset with him? did his absence hurt you as much as it hurt him?
the questions never stopped and the worst part was that he couldn't talk about any of it. not with aaron. not with anyone. nobody besides himself and michonne knew the truth, nobody knew you were still alive or at least as alive as someone in your condition could be. and daryl intended to keep it that way.
"how long d'ya think it'll be before they clear out?" aaron's voice finally broke through his thoughts, causing daryl to blink in realization— forcing himself back into the present.
his gaze shifted toward the other man standing by the door. "dunno." his answer was short and simple.
"could be hours. could be days."
"very reassuring, dixon." aaron chuckled nervously, his good hand rubbing the back of his neck before peeking outside once more.
daryl simply shrugged. "could be worse." with that, he lowered himself onto the dirty vinyl floor— before sitting though, he'd checked the door himself. the walkers had spread out some, not enough, but more than before. it should've been comforting: instead, the silence only made his thoughts louder.
a minute passed, then another. nothing but distant groans and the ringing in his ears. daryl huffed in annoyance. he felt like he needed something to focus on, anything besides you. but that was proving harder than expected because despite everything, all he wanted was to have you beside him. hell- being trapped in this shitty store wouldn't seem so bad if you were here too.
"daryl?" aaron's voice pulled him back again. "how're you holding up? after... y'know. everything." the question immediately put him on edge, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"m'fine." it came out quicker than intended, more defensive than he would've liked.
aaron visibly hesitated, carefully choosing his next words. "you know it's okay if you're not." he looked down briefly, “after losing eric, i still don't know what to do with myself sometimes."
guilt twisted sharply in daryl's chest, because aaron wasn't wrong. he was trying to help, trying to connect. trying to relate to the grief daryl was supposed to be feeling, but daryl wasn't grieving a death. he was hiding a miracle and somehow that felt even harder.
"yeah." he looked away and his voice lowered, "i get it."
"it is what it is. m'surviving." the lie tasted bitter, but thankfully aaron didn't push.
"well, if you ever need somebody to talk to, i'm your guy."
"yeah, okay—” a sudden snarl cut him off. both men's heads snapped toward the door. immediately, daryl was on his feet— his stomach dropping with an intense force. they'd found them again.
he grabbed his gear, his crossbow, and anything he could carry. "we need t'move.”, his voice hardened.
"they're headin' straight for us."
aaron didn't argue, but panic was already written across his face.
"we got enough space right now." daryl moved toward the door with a sense of precision, "we run for it."
the moment they stepped outside, everything went wrong though. another cluster of walkers had appeared directly in the path they needed to take.
"daryl!" aaron froze.
"what do we do?"
"fuck." for once, daryl genuinely didn't know. his eyes darted around, calculating, searching, thinking. then he spotted it, a staircase leading to the roof and on a dime an idea immediately formed. it was dangerous, and it was stupid, but possible and right now possible was all they had.
"you hide there." he pointed toward a kiosk.
"i'll lead 'em upstairs." aaron's eyes widened.
"daryl—"
"then you make a run for it." he continued, already planning three steps ahead.
"i'll use the rope in my bag."
"if you don't see me in twenty minutes, go home."
"i'm not leaving you."
"wasn't askin'." their eyes locked, the tension between them stretched for a moment before reality forced the decision. the walkers were getting closer and they didn't have time to argue anymore.
finally, aaron nodded. "fine."
the second he disappeared toward the kiosk, daryl moved— he yelled and clapped and drew every pair of dead eyes toward himself. dozens of walkers turned in his direction as one thought surfaced above all the others.
you.
if he died today what would happen to you? who would protect you? who would make sure nobody hurt you? who would understand you?
the thought nearly stopped him in his tracks, but there wasn't time, so he ran straight toward the roof access and straight toward the next disaster waiting for him.
by the time daryl finally limped around the building minutes later, his leg was screaming. the jump had been worse than expected. without the rope he'd thought he packed, he'd been forced to take the risk and now every step felt like fire shooting through his bones.
still he kept moving because aaron should've been waiting, because they needed to get home, because he needed to get back to you.
the moment he rounded the corner, relief was the first thing he expected to feel. instead, dread hit him like a freight train as he stopped dead in his tracks. his heart dropped and his entire body went cold.
carol stood several yards away, gun raised and aimed directly at—
you.
for a moment, daryl genuinely couldn't process what he was seeing. aaron had you restrained tightly in his arms as you were struggling and thrashing and growling, desperation evident in your sounds.
and carol was aiming a gun at your head.
everything seemed to tilt sideways, first the run, then his foot, then the jump, and now this. how had you even gotten here? how had you escaped?how had you found him?
questions flooded his brain faster than he could process them, but none of them mattered the second he saw carol cock the gun. panic slammed into him, pure, raw, absolute panic.
"no, don’t!" the scream ripped from his throat, every head turned toward him— yours included. and the second your eyes found him, some of the panic left your body— not all of it, but enough.
daryl was alive, he'd made it, and you found him. for a brief moment, everything else faded into the background. the gun, aaron's hold, carol's shouting. all of it. your entire focus narrowed to daryl— he was hurt, even from this distance you could see it. the way he favored one leg, the way his shoulders were tense, the way pain was etched across every line of his face.
your chest tightened painfully and somehow, that frightened you more than the gun pointed at your head.
"why not, daryl?" carol shouted, her voice snapped everyone's attention back to the situation at hand.
"she's a walker!" the gun trembled slightly in her grip. whether from anger, fear, or uncertainty, nobody could tell. but nonetheless daryl's heart hammered against his ribs. he knew carol, knew exactly how she thought. to her, this wasn't personal. this was survival, this was mercy.
this was putting down something she believed was already gone, but she was wrong. god, she was so fucking wrong.
"because she's still there!" daryl yelled back, his voice cracking with desperation. "she's in there!"
every word felt like a plea, not just for you, but for himself. for the secret he'd spent weeks protecting, for the impossible hope he'd refused to let die. "please." his breathing hitched.
"i'm beggin' ya, don't kill her." the words stunned everyone into silence, even carol because in all the years she'd known daryl she'd rarely ever heard him beg. and certainly not like this.
your eyes immediately locked onto him, his voice, his fear, his pain. it all crashed into you at once. you didn't fully understand the words, didn't fully understand the conversation happening around you, but you understood one thing.
daryl was scared and that alone made your own panic rise.
"how?" carol demanded, her eyes never leavinf you. "look at her, daryl." she gestured toward you with the gun as sadness crept into her voice.
"i'm sorry, but this is the right thing." she took a cautious step forward, "she's suffering."
"no she ain't!" daryl immediately fired back. his leg nearly gave out as he pushed himself forward. "she ain't like them!"
his hand reached for the crossbow strapped across his back, but pain shot through his injured leg. he hissed through clenched teeth but still, he kept moving. "she protected me!"
the confession slipped out before he could stop it and everyone froze. aaron, carol, even you.
"what?" aaron breathed but daryl ignored him as his eyes never left yours.
"she kills walkers." his voice shook, "she protects people." he swallowed hard.
"just let her go." for the first time, uncertainty flashed across carol's face because daryl believed what he was saying, he truly believed it. and that made the situation far more complicated than she'd first thought.
but before anyone could respond, another sound reached your ears. a sharp grunt, your head snapped toward daryl. he'd put weight on his injured leg. too much. pain flashed across his features and his balance faltered. the sight hit you like a punch to the chest.
everything else disappeared. the gun disappeared, the people disappeared, the arguments disappeared. all you could see was daryl hurting and it caused your breathing to became uneven, heavy, and erratic. the same feeling that had consumed you back in the cell began rising again.
your hands trembled, your vision narrowed, your chest felt impossibly tight, and then daryl cried out again. the sound tore through you and something snapped in complete.
your body reacted before your mind could. with a violent jerk, you threw your head backward, the back of your skull connected with aaron's face. hard enough that a sickening crack echoed through the air as aaron immediately released you with a yell— both hands flying to his nose.
you didn't hesitate; the second his grip loosened, you were moving. carol barely even had time to react because one moment the gun was aimed at your forehead and the next, your hand wrapped around the weapon as you ripped it free— using her own momentum against her, you yanked her downward.
carol stumbled and her eyes widened as you snarled; a deep, guttural sound that made everyone freeze. for one terrifying second, nobody knew what you were going to do.
not even daryl, but then— instead of turning the gun on anyone— you threw it, the weapon skidded across the pavement straight toward daryl.
everyone stared in confusion, as if they were stunned too. because that wasn't what a walker would do— you weren't trying to attack, weren't trying to kill, you were in fact protecting.
your eyes immediately returned to daryl, making sure he was okay, making sure he could defend himself, making sure nobody could hurt him.
the realization settled heavily over the group.
especially carol.
especially aaron.
slowly, painfully, daryl pushed himself upright, using his crossbow as a makeshift crutch. his chest rose and fell rapidly as the adrenaline still coursed through him.
but despite everything— the chaos and the danger, despite the fact that his entire secret had just exploded in front of two people he trusted—
relief washed through him.
because you were alive, you weren't hurt, and carol hadn't pulled the trigger. but then reality came crashing back as his eyes shifted between carol and aaron.
both of them staring at you, both of them staring at him as if waiting and as if they were silently demanding answers.
and daryl immediately knew one thing.
now that the cat was out of the bag, they had a whole new problem on their hands.
T A G L I S T: @whore4fictionalmen19 @zamadness @clussysposts @magz3strikes @holdmytesseract @leslierabbit
You work at a paranormal podcast studio and become convinced SAMCRO is secretly involved in supernatural activity because Juice keeps accidentally saying suspicious things.
The first time you met Juice Ortiz, you became convinced he was involved in something deeply, profoundly supernatural.
Not criminal.
Not illegal.
Supernatural.
And honestly?
You felt pretty justified.
Because normal people did not say the things he said.
You worked for a paranormal investigation podcast called Midnight Frequency, a surprisingly successful show based out of a converted warehouse in Charming.
The place looked exactly how people imagined a paranormal podcast studio would look.
Old brick walls.
Dim lighting.
Vintage recording equipment.
Shelves lined with allegedly haunted objects.
Boxes of investigation gear.
Spirit boxes.
EMF readers.
Infrared cameras.
And enough conspiracy theories floating around the office to qualify as their own religion.
You weren't one of the hosts.
You were the producer.
The person who actually kept everything running.
Scheduling.
Editing.
Research.
Equipment maintenance.
Making sure your two hosts didn't accidentally get themselves arrested while trespassing in abandoned hospitals.
Again.
You were practical.
Logical.
Reasonable.
The kind of person who spent entire episodes fact-checking ghost stories before they went live.
You didn't blindly believe in everything.
You just liked the possibility that weird things existed.
Which was why the biker showed up and ruined your life.
The first time Juice came into the studio, he was carrying a box.
Just a box.
Nothing unusual.
The problem was the sentence that came out of his mouth.
You'd been unloading equipment when he walked through the door.
"Hey," he said cheerfully.
You glanced up.
"Hey."
He set the box down.
"No idea what's in it."
"Then why are you delivering it?"
"Tig told me not to open it."
That should have been your first warning.
You looked at him.
He looked at you.
Then he added:
"Last time somebody opened one they got cursed."
You froze.
"What?"
Juice blinked.
"What?"
"You said cursed."
"Oh."
He scratched his head.
"Yeah."
"Explain."
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"People don't get cursed by nothing."
"Sure they do."
Then he smiled awkwardly and walked away.
That should have been the end.
Instead it became the beginning.
Because once you noticed Juice saying weird things—
You couldn't stop noticing.
Two weeks later he dropped off another package.
You signed for it.
Juice looked exhausted.
Like he hadn't slept in days.
You asked if he was okay.
His answer?
"The screaming kept me awake."
You slowly lowered your clipboard.
"The what?"
"The screaming."
You stared.
Juice stared.
Then realization crossed his face.
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"Wrong answer."
"What screaming?"
"No screaming."
"You literally just said—"
"Nope."
"There is no version of reality where—"
"Have a good day."
Then he practically ran from the building.
You stood there.
Silent.
Thinking.
Processing.
That night you started a document.
A private document.
For research.
Obviously.
The title:
SUSPICIOUS THINGS JUICE ORTIZ HAS SAID
The list grew alarmingly fast.
"The body wasn't there yesterday."
"Don't touch that. It bites."
"Sometimes they follow you home."
"It only smells like sulfur when it's angry."
"Most people can't see them."
"Trust me, you don't want to know what's under there."
"We're trying not to wake it up."
Every single time you questioned him—
He immediately panicked.
Changed the subject.
Or fled.
Which somehow made everything worse.
By month three you had developed an entire theory.
A genuinely comprehensive theory.
Complete with evidence.
Charts.
Timelines.
Photographs.
Cross references.
Maps.
According to your research:
SAMCRO was secretly protecting Charming from supernatural threats.
It explained everything.
The weird hours.
The secrecy.
The random injuries.
The disappearances.
The cryptic statements.
The strange things people claimed to see near club property.
You had forty-seven pages of evidence.
Then Juice accidentally gave you page forty-eight.
It happened during a coffee run.
You were sitting outside the café when he joined you.
For some reason he'd started doing that.
Showing up.
Talking.
Lingering.
Finding excuses.
You tried not to notice.
Mostly because he was annoyingly cute.
That day he sat beside you.
Looked exhausted.
Took a sip of coffee.
And said:
"We buried three of them this week."
You nearly dropped your drink.
"What."
Juice immediately closed his eyes.
Like he'd just realized he'd stepped on a landmine.
Slowly.
Painfully.
He opened one eye.
"You didn't hear that."
"I absolutely heard that."
"You imagined it."
"Three of WHAT?"
His entire soul appeared to leave his body.
You leaned forward.
"Juice."
"No."
"Juice."
"No."
"Juice."
"No."
He groaned.
Actually groaned.
Like existence itself had become difficult.
And suddenly you realized something.
He wasn't acting like somebody hiding supernatural secrets.
He was acting like somebody trying desperately not to accidentally reveal something.
Which was somehow even more suspicious.
By then you'd become friends.
Actual friends.
You texted.
You shared memes.
He brought you coffee.
You fixed his laptop every time he broke it.
Which happened far more often than any adult should reasonably allow.
And somewhere along the way—
You started liking him.
A lot.
The problem was that every time you got close to thinking about asking him out—
He'd say something insane.
Like:
"Sometimes they come back."
Or:
"The older ones are harder to kill."
Or:
"We got lucky this time."
You weren't sure if he was secretly a monster hunter or clinically incapable of speaking like a normal person.
Possibly both.
Then came the warehouse incident.
The moment your entire theory exploded.
It was nearly midnight.
You were leaving the studio.
The parking lot was empty.
Quiet.
Dark.
Then you heard voices.
Shouting.
Angry shouting.
Coming from an abandoned warehouse nearby.
Normally you would've ignored it.
Instead you recognized Juice's voice.
And because your survival instincts occasionally took vacations—
You followed it.
You slipped through a side entrance.
Moved quietly.
And immediately found yourself staring at half of SAMCRO.
Jax.
Tig.
Chibs.
Happy.
Juice.
Several others.
All gathered around something.
Your heart started pounding.
This was it.
Proof.
Finally.
After months.
You were about to uncover the supernatural conspiracy.
You crept closer.
And heard:
"Where's the body?"
Your eyes widened.
Body.
Of course.
Then:
"We need to move it before morning."
Your stomach dropped.
Then:
"Get the truck."
Silence.
You blinked.
Wait.
Truck?
Body?
Move it?
Slowly.
Very slowly.
The horrifying reality began assembling itself inside your brain.
Not ghosts.
Not demons.
Not monsters.
Crime.
Just crime.
Lots of crime.
So much crime.
A truly concerning amount of crime.
"Oh my God."
The words escaped before you could stop them.
Every head turned.
Every single head.
The warehouse became completely silent.
You stood frozen.
Juice's face went white.
Jax looked confused.
Tig looked delighted.
Happy looked mildly interested in murder.
And Juice whispered:
"Oh no."
You pointed dramatically.
At all of them.
"You aren't fighting demons."
Silence.
"You are criminals."
More silence.
Tig started laughing so hard he nearly fell over.
"You thought WHAT?" he wheezed.
You rounded on Juice.
"YOU SAID THEY FOLLOW YOU HOME."
"I WAS TALKING ABOUT FEDS."
"YOU SAID THE OLDER ONES ARE HARDER TO KILL."
"OLDER HARLEYS."
"YOU SAID WE BURIED THREE OF THEM."
"THREE MOTORCYCLES."
The entire warehouse erupted.
Men doubled over laughing.
Actually crying.
Falling against walls.
You wanted the concrete floor to open and swallow you whole.
Months.
MONTHS.
You had spent months building a supernatural conspiracy theory.
Meanwhile these idiots had simply been talking about motorcycles, law enforcement, rival gangs and criminal activity.
Juice looked like he wanted to die.
"You thought we hunted monsters?"
You pointed at him.
"YOU TALK LIKE A CURSED PIRATE."
That somehow made everyone laugh harder.
Especially Jax.
Especially Tig.
And most annoyingly—
Especially Juice.
Because once he started laughing—
Really laughing—
You couldn't stay embarrassed.
You just stood there.
Mortified.
Watching him grin.
And realizing for the first time how much you'd missed that smile whenever he wasn't around.
The realization hit hard.
Hard enough that you forgot the embarrassment.
Hard enough that you forgot the warehouse.
Hard enough that when his laughter faded and he looked at you—
The world suddenly felt very small.
Very quiet.
Very focused.
Just him.
Just those stupid brown eyes.
Just that smile.
Just Juice.
His expression softened.
And something shifted.
Because maybe he'd been looking at you the same way for a while.
Maybe every coffee.
Every text.
Every excuse.
Every delivery.
Every conversation.
Maybe none of it had been accidental.
The warehouse suddenly became very aware of what was happening.
Which meant every single biker immediately started making things worse.
"Oh, there it is."
"About damn time."
"Thought we'd die first."
"Five bucks says he passes out."
Juice turned bright red.
You laughed.
Then looked at him.
And said quietly:
"So."
"So?"
"Want to explain why you kept finding excuses to come see me?"
His face somehow got even redder.
Which honestly seemed medically impossible.
"I..."
The entire club leaned forward.
You could feel it.
A collective audience.
Watching.
Waiting.
Juice glared at them.
Then looked back at you.
And finally smiled.
A genuine smile.
The kind that reached his eyes.
"Maybe because I liked you."
Your heart flipped.
"Maybe?"
"Definitely."
You smiled.
"Good."
"Good?"
"Because I definitely like you too."
The grin that spread across his face could have powered half of California.
The warehouse exploded again.
Cheers.
Shouting.
Swearing.
Someone lost money.
Someone won money.
Tig appeared to be crying.
You never found out who started the chant.
Only that it spread instantly.
And that Juice looked horrified.
Until you grabbed the front of his shirt.
Pulled him toward you.
And kissed him.
The cheering somehow got louder.
When you finally pulled back—
Juice looked completely stunned.
Like he'd forgotten how gravity worked.
You smiled.
"So."
He blinked.
"So?"
"Next time you accidentally imply you're fighting demons—"
He groaned immediately.
You laughed.
"—I'm assuming crime first."
His forehead dropped against yours.
"That's probably smart."
And for the first time since you'd met him—
The mystery was finally solved.
No ghosts.
No monsters.
No demons.
No ancient curses.
Just one sweet, chaotic biker who accidentally sounded like the protagonist of a supernatural horror novel every time he opened his mouth.
And somehow, despite all the misunderstandings, conspiracy boards, evidence folders, embarrassing discoveries, and one spectacularly incorrect paranormal investigation—
You ended up exactly where you were supposed to be.
With Juice laughing against your shoulder.
His hand tangled with yours.
And the certainty that whatever strange things waited in the future—
You'd face them together.
Even if he kept sounding suspicious as hell the entire time.
Sitting on Juice's lap.
It starts because there's no where else to sit. It's a bit awkward at first and then over the course of the evening it becomes comfortable.
Eventually, over months, you start sitting on Juice's lap all the time, even when there are seats available. The Samcro boys give you guys so much shit.
Which wouldn't be a problem if only he wasn't so damn in love with you.
The first time you sat on Juice's lap, it was entirely accidental.
Which was probably why it ruined both your lives.
Friday nights at the SAMCRO clubhouse were chaos incarnate.
Music too loud. Beer spilling everywhere. Half the guys yelling over each other while some old rock song rattled the walls hard enough to shake dust from the ceiling beams. The scent of grease, whiskey, cigarettes, leather, and engine oil hung thick in the air like permanent atmosphere.
You’d only stopped by to drop off food.
That had been your first mistake.
Your second mistake had been staying.
“C’mon,” Jax had said, waving a beer in your direction. “You bring homemade food, you’re obligated to hang around.”
“Pretty sure that’s not a law.”
“It is here.”
And unfortunately, everyone in SAMCRO had decided they liked you.
So suddenly you were trapped between loud bikers playing cards and arguing over bullshit while someone shoved a drink into your hand.
The clubhouse was packed wall-to-wall that night.
Every chair occupied.
Every couch crowded.
You stood awkwardly near the bar trying not to look uncomfortable about having nowhere to sit.
That was when Juice looked up from where he sat in one of the armchairs near the pool table.
“Hey,” he called over the noise. “You can sit here.”
You blinked. “Where?”
He patted his thigh casually.
Your face heated instantly.
The guys around him immediately started making sounds like a pack of hyenas.
“Oooooh.”
“Ortiz got game.”
“Little quick there, brother.”
Juice looked horrified almost immediately after saying it.
“No—I mean—shit, not like that,” he stammered. “I just meant there’s no chairs and—fuck, that sounded weird.”
You laughed despite yourself.
Because he looked genuinely panicked.
And because Juice Ortiz was kind.
Dangerous, sure. A biker. A criminal. A man with tattoos and scars and a gun tucked into the back of his jeans.
But kind.
You’d noticed that immediately.
“You sure?” you asked.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
The room waited.
You hesitated only a second before carefully lowering yourself onto his lap.
The second your weight settled against him, Juice stopped breathing.
You felt it instantly.
How rigid he went.
How his hands hovered awkwardly at his sides like he had no idea where to put them.
The guys burst into immediate laughter.
“Oh, he’s SWEATIN’.”
“Juice about to pass out.”
“Someone get this man a cigarette.”
“Shut up,” Juice muttered, ears bright red.
You tried not to laugh as you adjusted carefully, hyperaware of the warmth of him beneath you. He was solid. Warm. One arm of the chair wrapped around both of you, forcing you closer than expected.
“This okay?” you asked softly.
Juice looked at you like you’d asked whether he wanted oxygen.
“Yeah,” he croaked.
It should’ve ended there.
One awkward moment.
One crowded night.
Instead, somehow, it became a thing.
The next week, the clubhouse was crowded again.
You walked in carrying takeout containers and immediately saw there were no open seats.
Juice looked up from the couch.
You looked at him.
He looked at his lap.
Everyone around him started grinning.
“Oh no,” Tig said immediately. “Not again.”
You laughed.
Juice looked simultaneously hopeful and terrified.
So you walked over and sat on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The cheering was deafening.
Juice nearly choked on his beer.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered while everyone lost their minds around him.
But this time?
His arm settled around your waist automatically.
Like instinct.
Like it belonged there.
And honestly, that should’ve been your warning sign.
After that, it just… kept happening.
At first only when seats were full.
Then when there were technically seats available, but they were far away from Juice.
Then eventually because it felt strange not to.
Nobody ever acknowledged when the habit officially formed.
One day you just walked into the clubhouse, saw Juice sitting alone in a chair, and immediately crossed the room to climb into his lap without a word.
Like muscle memory.
Like home.
The silence that followed was catastrophic.
Every biker in the room stared.
Juice froze mid-sentence.
You blinked around at everyone. “What?”
Chibs grinned around a cigarette. “Nothin’. This is adorable.”
“It is NOT adorable,” Juice snapped instantly.
You tilted your head up at him. “You want me to move?”
His answer came so fast it almost overlapped your question.
“No.”
The room exploded.
“OH MY GOD.”
“He said it so fast!”
“Brother starving.”
Juice buried his face in his hands while you laughed hard enough your shoulders shook against his chest.
That became dangerous too.
Because Juice started associating your laughter with warmth.
With your body leaning into his.
With your head tucked beneath his chin while everyone around you blurred into background noise.
And God help him, he was already too far gone.
By month three, sitting in Juice’s lap had become completely normal to both of you.
Normal enough that you didn’t even think before doing it.
Normal enough that his hands automatically found your waist.
Normal enough that you leaned back against his chest during movie nights.
Normal enough that sometimes he’d absentmindedly rub circles into your hip while talking to the guys.
That one nearly killed him the first time he realized he was doing it.
You hadn’t seemed to mind though.
If anything, you’d leaned closer.
Which made everything so much worse.
Because Juice was hopelessly, painfully in love with you.
And you apparently had no idea.
“You gotta tell her eventually.”
Juice glanced up from cleaning a gun in the garage office.
Jax leaned against the doorway watching him with the exhausted expression of a man witnessing another man destroy himself slowly.
“Tell who what?”
Jax stared.
“Really?”
Juice went back to cleaning.
“There’s nothin’ to tell.”
Jax barked out a laugh. “Brother, she sits in your lap like she pays rent there.”
“That don’t mean anything.”
“She literally played with your hair for twenty minutes yesterday.”
Juice’s hands stopped moving.
Because yeah.
You had.
Absentmindedly.
While listening to Tig tell some insane story, your fingers had started brushing through the limited hair at the nape of Juice’s neck.
Juice had nearly fucking ascended.
“She’s affectionate with everybody,” he muttered weakly.
Jax looked unconvinced. “Not like that.”
Juice didn’t answer.
Because if he admitted the truth out loud, he might actually lose his mind.
The truth being:
Every time you sat on his lap, he had to actively remember how to function.
Every time you smiled at him, his stomach flipped.
Every time you curled against his chest during late nights at the clubhouse, he imagined what it would feel like if you were actually his.
And every single time another man flirted with you, something ugly and possessive twisted in his ribs.
He was in so deep it was embarrassing.
The worst part was how comfortable you were with him.
Trusting.
Careless in a way people only became when they felt safe.
You’d steal bites from his plate.
Wear his hoodies when you got cold.
Fall asleep against him during long nights at the clubhouse.
Once, during a movie marathon, you’d climbed into his lap half-awake and mumbled, “You’re comfy.”
Comfy.
Juice had stared at the ceiling for two straight hours afterward.
Because what the fuck was he supposed to do with that?
The breaking point came on a rainy Tuesday night.
Most of the guys were out handling club business, leaving the clubhouse quieter than usual.
You and Juice sat alone on the couch watching some terrible reality show while rain hammered against the windows.
As usual, you sat curled in his lap beneath a blanket.
At some point your fingers found his tattooed forearm, tracing patterns absentmindedly while you watched TV.
Juice wasn’t paying attention to the television at all.
He was paying attention to you.
To your legs draped over his.
To the scent of your shampoo.
To the warmth of your back against his chest.
To the fact that he was absolutely, catastrophically in love with you.
And then—
Without thinking—
You tilted your head back against his shoulder and kissed his jaw.
Soft.
Absentminded.
Affectionate.
Like it was natural.
Juice stopped breathing.
You froze too.
The room went dead silent except for the rain.
Slowly, you looked up at him.
“Oh my God,” you whispered.
Juice’s heart slammed violently against his ribs.
Because suddenly you looked panicked.
“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, starting to move. “I didn’t even think, I just—”
His arm tightened around your waist instinctively.
“Don’t move.”
Your eyes widened slightly.
Juice swallowed hard.
“You kissed me.”
Your face turned pink immediately. “I know.”
“Why?”
The question came out rougher than intended.
You stared at him for a long moment.
Then laughed nervously.
“Honestly?”
“Please.”
Your fingers tightened slightly against his arm.
“Because somewhere along the line,” you admitted softly, “this started feeling less like sitting in a friend’s lap and more like…” You trailed off.
Juice’s pulse thundered.
“More like what?”
Your eyes met his.
“Like being where I belong.”
Fuck.
Actually fuck.
Juice kissed you before he could think better of it.
One hand cupped your jaw while the other held your waist tight enough to keep you close but gentle enough not to scare you. His lips crashed against yours with months of restrained longing behind them.
You made the softest startled sound before immediately kissing him back.
And that—
That nearly destroyed him.
Because you kissed him like you’d wanted this too.
Like every lingering touch and every shared glance and every moment curled in his lap had been leading here.
When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard.
You stared at each other for a second.
Then burst into laughter simultaneously.
“We are so stupid,” you said.
Juice grinned helplessly. “Yeah.”
“How long have you been in love with me?”
His eyes widened. “Whoa, that’s a crazy sentence.”
“Juice.”
He groaned dramatically, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “Since, like… the third lap sit.”
You laughed so hard you nearly fell off him.
“THE THIRD?”
“You played with my hair! That’s intimate!”
“It is not!”
“It IS for me!”
Still laughing, you kissed him again.
Softer this time.
Certain.
And when the clubhouse doors opened an hour later to reveal the rest of SAMCRO returning home, they found you exactly where everyone secretly knew you belonged:
Curled in Juice Ortiz’s lap.
Only now his mouth was swollen pink from kissing you.
Your fingers rested around his neck.
And the look on his face when he glanced at you—
Completely gone.
Tig took one look and groaned loudly.
“Oh, I am NEVER hearing the end of this.”
Happy smirked. “Called it months ago.”
Jax just shook his head. “Bout damn time.”
Juice flipped them off without even looking away from you.
You smiled against his mouth as he kissed you again.
And this time, when you settled deeper into his lap, nobody pretended it was because there weren’t enough seats anymore.
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