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@cherryno1
Saw this and screamed
A woman again
HEY! so this is my first ever fan fic, I'm shit nervous so please be kind but criticism is welcome. I defo have plans for a smutty angsty part 2 (yum) so maybe you'll enjoy. Anyway, luvs ya xx
I also am very new to tumblr so bare with me. P.S i forgot which characters live in Alexandria so if i got things wrong SUE ME. let a bitch have some fun.
2.3k words
tw: swearing and mean!Daryl
summery: reader goes out for a run for beauty supplies and Daryl gets pissed.
Alexandria had been buzzing for days over Deanna’s stupid party idea. Most people were excited for it; a chance to pretend things were normal again. To wear fancy clothes. To laugh without checking over their shoulder every five seconds.
You thought it was ridiculous at first.
Then you remembered what it felt like to be a woman before the world ended.
Perfume. Lip gloss. Soft skin. Pretty dresses. The little things that used to make you feel human.
So you went on a run.
A dangerous one.
Alone.
You’d practically had to beg Rick to let you take one of the cars, swearing you’d stay close and be back before dark. The entire drive, you kept telling yourself it was stupid, risking your life for makeup and nail polish. But every time you found another unopened bottle of perfume or untouched makeup palette, you couldn’t stop smiling. For once, it wasn’t about survival. It was about feeling alive.
The gates of Alexandria groaned open just as the sun started dipping low.
The second your tires rolled through, you spotted Daryl storming across the street toward you.
Oh, great.
His crossbow hung over his shoulder, jaw tight enough to crack teeth. The second you climbed out of the car, he started yelling.
“Where the fuck ya been?” he snapped in that thick southern drawl. “Ya outta ya damn mind? Does Rick know ya went out there alone?”
You shuddered in hate.
You slammed the car door harder than necessary. “Jesus Christ, Daryl, shut up. S’none of your business where I went.”
“The hell it ain’t!”
“It’s handled, okay? I’m back alive.”
“Barely, probably.”
You rolled your eyes and reached into the backseat for the bags, but Daryl snatched one straight out of your hands before you could stop him.
“What the- give it back.”
He looked inside. His face darkened instantly.
Boxes of makeup. Fake lashes. Nail polish. Perfume bottles wrapped carefully in cloth.
For a second he just stared. Then started breathing heavy through his nose in fury.
Then he looked at you like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Are ya fuckin’ serious?” he barked. “Ya almost got yerself killed for this shit?”
You folded your arms defensively. “It matters to us.”
“To who?”
“To the women here! To me!”
Daryl scoffed, angry in the way he only got when he was scared.
“All this so ya can look pretty for some asshole at a party?”
Your expression hardened.
“Excuse me?”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice, rough and mean.
“Really are a stupid slut sometimes, y’know that? Riskin’ your neck just to get laid. For a dick to suck. Pathetic.”
The words hit harder than you expected. You have always butted heads with Daryl ever since Rick saw something in you and kept you safe at the prison. But this… Daryl took this too far this time.
For a second, you just stared at him.
Dumbfounded. The words knocked the air clean outta your lungs. Then your face twisted into something cold and furious and something in you snapped.
“A slut?” you repeated quietly.
Daryl’s jaw tightened, but you kept going before he could say anything else.
“You think that’s what this is about?” You laughed once — sharp and humorless. “Jesus Christ.”
The words came out venomous before you could stop them. “God forbid women wanna feel good about themselves just because we do. Maybe if someone actually touched your dick once in a while you wouldn’t be so damn miserable all the time.”
Something in Daryl’s expression hardened fast.
“Funny,” he said coldly. “Comin’ from someone so pathetic and desperate to be looked at, she’ll risk dyin’ for some lipstick.”
You ripped the bag from his hands so hard a bottle inside clinked loudly.
“You know what’s pathetic, Daryl? The fact that the world ends and somehow it’s still a man’s fucking world.”
His eyes like steel not backing down.
You stepped closer, voice shaking with anger now.
“You all get to keep yourselves. Rick gets to be a leader. You get to be the tracker, the hunter, the survivor.” You pointed toward the bag. “And the second women wanna feel like themselves again, it’s stupid? Dangerous? Slutty?”
“That ain’t what I—”
“No, that is exactly what you meant, asshole.” You shoved his chest in frustration. You knew he was stronger than you but he stumbled a step back anyway. Like he was weak.
Your eyes burned into his.
“We spend every damn day covered in blood and dirt, scared outta our minds, trying not to die. We don’t get mirrors. We don’t get softness. We don’t get to feel pretty or normal or human unless we fight for it.”
Daryl looked away for half a second, guilt creeping across his face, but you were too angry to stop now.
“I didn’t do this for men,” you spat. “I did it because I’m tired of surviving like I’m already dead.”
Silence settled heavy between you.
The wind shifted through the street.
“You know what?” you said quietly. “Fuck you, Daryl.”
You nudged his shoulder as you walked away with the bags.
And for once, Daryl Dixon had absolutely nothing to say.
You turned the corner fast, trying to outwalk the sting burning behind your eyes.
Your grip tightened around the bags in your arms hard enough to crinkle the plastic. The sound of the party preparations drifting through Alexandria suddenly felt ridiculous now — music, laughter, people pretending things were normal while your chest felt like it’d been ripped open.
“Hey!”
Maggie hurried after you, boots skidding on the pavement.
You didn’t stop walking.
“Hey, slow down,” she said softer this time, finally catching up beside you. “ you okay?”
You laughed bitterly under your breath. “Do I look okay?”
Maggie glanced back toward the street where Daryl still stood near the gate.
“Damn,” she muttered. “That looked intense.”
“That’s one word for it.”
You shoved open your garden gate harder than necessary, climbing the steps while Maggie followed close behind.
“He called me a slut, Maggie.”
Her face dropped instantly.
“He what?”
“All because I went out for this stuff.” You held the bags up angrily. “Like God forbid women wanna feel like themselves for five damn minutes without it bein’ about men.”
Maggie stayed quiet, letting you vent.
“He acts like wanting makeup or perfume is stupid because it doesn’t help you survive.” You scoffed, fumbling for your keys with shaking hands. “Like surviving’s the only thing we’re allowed to care about anymore.”
“What a douchebag?!” Maggie huffed.
She helped you with the bags and set them on the sofa.
Maggie blinked.
Inside were makeup palettes still sealed in plastic. Bottles of perfume. Hair products. Nail polish in every color you could find. Face masks. Lipsticks. Brushes.
For a second she just stared.
“Oh my God…”
You pulled another bag open.
Fake lashes. Jewelry. Skincare. A curling iron you prayed still worked with Alexandria’s power.
Maggie’s mouth actually fell open a little.
“You found all this?”
You shrugged, trying to stay angry instead of emotional. “Drug store outside Richmond. Most of it was untouched.”
Maggie carefully picked up a small bottle of perfume, turning it over in her hand like it was made of gold.
Then she laughed softly, completely stunned.
“Carol’s gonna freak.”
Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth twitched.
“She better.”
Maggie looked back into the bags again, eyes wide now as the reality hit her.
“You did all this for us?”
You swallowed.
“I just…” Your voice softened slightly. “I wanted one night where the women here could feel normal again. So I can feel me again” you admitted quietly. “Even if it is fake.”
Maggie’s expression softened immediately.
“It ain’t fake,” she said. “Wantin’ pieces of yourself back after everything? That’s human.”
Your eyes stung again at that.
“Ya know, I don’t think Daryl meant all that. Maybe you scared him.” she said rubbing your shoulder
“Well, he still said it.” you sighed. She knew there wasn't much she could say to comfort you so she gave up on the idea of trying.
Instead, she set the perfume down carefully and looked back up at you with a grin slowly spreading across her face.
“Well,” she said, already examining the products, “we are absolutely not wastin’ this.”
You finally let out a real laugh — small, exhausted, but real.
“Maggie.”
“Hm?”
“Rally the women.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“All of ‘em?”
“All of ‘em,” you repeated. “Tell ‘em to come to my house before the party.”
Maggie’s grin widened instantly.
“Oh, this is gonna be chaos.”
“Exactly.”
Your house was loud for the first time since the world ended. Not panicked loud. Not screaming loud.
Happy loud.
Music crackled through the old boom box sitting on the kitchen counter, the cassette tape warbling every few seconds while laughter bounced off the walls. Somebody had found wine somewhere. Somebody else was already tipsy.
The entire downstairs smelled like hairspray, perfume, and burnt hair from the curling iron currently plugged into the bathroom outlet. And somehow the power actually held.
“Oh my God, hold still!” Rosita laughed, yanking Tara back toward a chair while trying to fix her eyeliner. “You move one more time and I’m makin’ you look possessed.”
“I already look possessed,” Tara snorted.
Carol sat near the couch with a tiny compact mirror in one hand and lipstick in the other, looking genuinely stunned.
“I forgot how weird this feels,” she admitted quietly.
Maggie appeared behind her immediately. “Good weird or bad weird?”
Carol smiled softly at her reflection.
“Good weird.”
Across the room, Sasha was helping braid Enid’s hair while Rosita argued loudly that everyone needed winged eyeliner “for morale.”
“You are not touchin’ my face with that tiny weapon,” Michonne warned from the armchair.
“You survived Terminus but eyeliner scares you?”
“Yes.”
You laughed from the bathroom doorway, curling iron in hand. The sound felt foreign coming out of you after the fight with Daryl. For a while, you’d almost forgotten about it.
Almost.
“Okay, who’s next?” you asked.
“Me!” Tara yelled instantly.
“No offense,” Rosita said, “but I’m going first. My hair is a hate crime right now.”
“RUDE.”
The room erupted into laughter again. Music played louder as someone turned the volume knob up. Maggie immediately grabbed your hand, dragging you toward the middle of the living room.
“Nope. Absolutely not. You are participating.”
“Maggie-”
“You started this.”
Before you could argue, she shoved a hairbrush into your hand while Carol held up a dress she’d found in your bedroom.
Your jaw dropped.
“Carol!”
“What?” she asked innocently. “You’re wearin’ it.”
“I can’t wear that.”
“You absolutely can,” Rosita cut in immediately.
“You’ll look hot,” Tara added helpfully.
Michonne looked up from painting her nails. “You kinda have to now. Democracy.”
You groaned while everybody started talking over each other. And for the first time in years, it felt less like surviving. More like a sleepover. Like being women again.
Daryl sat alone on the porch steps outside Aaron’s house, cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.
He hadn’t moved in almost an hour.
The sounds drifting across Alexandria made his jaw tighten every time another burst of laughter carried from your street
Women yelling over each other.
The warped sound of some old cassette tape.
Your laugh.
He stared out into the dark, expression hard.
Truth was, you and him had been fightin’ since the day you met. Back on the road, before Alexandria, before any of this almost-normal bullshit.
You thought he was an asshole.
He thought you were spoiled.
First argument happened because you complained about mud ruining your boots.
Second because he caught you trying to wash blood outta your hair with their last clean water.
Third because he nearly got bit dragging your stubborn ass outta a department store after you stopped to grab a stupid denim jacket.
And somehow after that… the bickering never stopped.
You mocked his grunting and his attitude.
He mocked your “princess bullshit.”
You stole his cigarettes once just to piss him off.
He replaced your favorite knife after you lost it and never admitted it was him.
Half the time, neither of you even remembered what the arguments were about.
But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like hate.
Which honestly just made it worse.
Because Daryl knew exactly when things changed.
It was the prison. You’d gotten sick.
Fever so bad you could barely stand, still trying to help clear walkers off the fence because you were too damn stubborn to rest.
He remembered screaming at you for it. You screamed back. Then passed out twenty minutes later.
After that, he started watching you without meaning to.
Fixing things around your cell block. Leaving extra food near your spot. Checking if you came back from runs. And every single time he almost admitted he gave a shit, you’d say something smartass and ruin it.
Or he would.
Probably both.
Daryl took another drag from the cigarette, jaw tightening.
"Maybe if someone actually touched your dick once in a while you wouldn’t be so damn miserable all the time."
He shut his eyes briefly.
Yeah.
That one stung.
But not half as much as seeing your face after he called you a slut.
Because he didn’t really think that.
Not even close.
Truth was, when he saw those bags full of makeup and perfume, all he could think was how you almost died.
Again.
Over something he didn’t understand.
And fear always came out mean with him. Always had.
From down the street, another wave of laughter drifted through Alexandria.
Then music.
Then your voice yelling something over everybody else.
Daryl’s mouth twitched despite himself.
Still loud as hell.
Still drivin’ him insane.
Still the first person he looked for every time a gate opened.
he deserved that smack for slaughtering that irish accent aha
na but its sexy tho
Just to let everyone here know, when I'm reading Daryl Dixon fanfics, "I'm your man" by Leonard Cohen is playing in my head on loop.
Has anyone tried reality shifting in TWD universe?? Please tell me what it was like, the story, how you did it, anything. I’m so curious!!
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗
Please let me know what yall think. Hopefully I did an okay job. Either way I feel pretty solid about it.
Inspired by these two headcanons: part 1, part 2
MDNI, 18+ only please. Smut ♥︎
Wc: 5,742
TW: super brief mention of past physical abuse (usual Daryl backstory shit), NSFW, smut, mean Daryl Dixon, manipulation, choking, fingering, p in v intercourse, unprotected sex, female anatomy, possessive Daryl, degradation/praise, sex outdoors,
If I forgot anything please let me know
Daryl knew that everyone in the group didn’t want you to cling to him. That the group disapproved of how he acted towards you. The way he was often cruel and crude towards you. It didn’t help that you were easy as hell to make fun of, to tease, to hurt. You just let it happen. Standing there all dumb and doe eyed blinking up at him. There was still a softness in you that had long since died in the world. Back when the dead first rose from the dirt. Your soft, innocent, gentle demeanor is what set you apart from everyone else.
It’s what caught Daryl’s eye initially. That part of the old world which was so rare to see in others now. But Daryl was a man who adapted with the times and he had lost that innocent softness the day he had been born into this fucked up world. To a Daddy that beat him, to a brother that always belittled him, and to society that kept rejecting him. But you, you are the complete opposite of him in every way and he hated that. Kind, gentle, always looking out for those around you. Skills and qualities that used to be admired and reveared. But now in a world gone mad where the rules were flipped Daryl Dixon is the top dog in society. He could hunt, track, scavenge, and most importantly he could kill. And you… Well you’re useless. At least in Daryl’s eyes you are.
Daryl knew that he didn’t need you, but you needed him. You couldn’t make it out in the woods without the rest of the camp. And most of the camp wouldn’t survive without the Dixon brothers. Which really ment that you just needed him. It didn’t matter that everyone seemed to want to take care of you. That people wanted to protect you, well less you and more protect that old world thinking that people still thought ment something. Either way they couldn’t keep you safe the way he could. And to Daryl that ment he could treat you however he wants and there wasn’t a fucking thing you could do about it.
Merle really had been the one that started it. “Where’s the lil’ brat at?” Merle would look out over the camp. His voice full of a joy that made a person’s skin crawl. “Ya’ll keep treatin’ her like she’s glass, ‘m sure she’ll start to believe it.” And to a certain degree Merle was right. You were just so fucking helpless because everyone treated you like you couldn’t handle it so nobody ever let you try any of it. You were trapped in a cycle of coddling and smothering isolation. No purpose, no power, just a pretty little thing everyone wanted to keep uncorrupted.
The Dixons noticed how lost you were without direction. You just weren’t built for this type of life, you constantly looked out of place in the camp, crying when Merle dropped a dead rabbit in your lap, in the woods, laying in the dirt with Daryl hovering over you. So Daryl decided it was his job to provide you that direction. He didn’t give a shit if people thought you were too good to be damned by the hands of a Dixon. You needed to learn that you weren’t untouchable. And you so eager to please, soaking up any sort of praise or validation you stumbled after Daryl like some sort of love sick puppy constantly afraid he’d leave you behind.
He realized early on how rough he could be with you if he also gave you what you wanted at the same time. Like how he could call you a stupid needy little bitch if he held your hand. Or how he could push you to the ground. His hands on either side of your head, one of his knees firmly lodged between your legs, his face inches away from yours as he caged you in, and you’d let him if he told you that you looked pretty like this.
The thing that pisses him off the most is that he fucking means it. He thinks you’re pretty when you’re looking up at him with big teary eyes, your face flushed, watching the muscles your throat constrict as you try to cut off the needy little whimpers. He means it when he calls you a needy little bitch but loves it how you reach for his hand. He doesn’t understand it, doesn’t try to understand it he just keeps pushing your buttons waiting for you to break.
“Daryl please slow down!” Your voice cuts through the quiet underbrush of the forest sending the birds flying and any game that was close by running. He can feel the muscle in his jaw twitch, hear his teeth grinding together as he comes to an abrupt stop. He was supposed to be hunting with Merle but the fucking bastard had gone into the city leaving him to figure out dinner for the group while also trying to balance you. For some god forsaken reason you had woken up especially needy today.
At first Daryl had enjoyed it. You had woken up from some sort of nightmare early in the morning, mist still rolling over the camp, the coals of last nights fire chalky white tendrils of wispy smoke reach out towards the sky as you snuck by hesitating in front of Daryl’s tent. You knew he was still sleeping, could hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, it wasn’t too late to turn back around. But the snap of a twig and the chattering of an animal in the distance pushed you forward through the tent flap.
“Daryl…” you whisper getting no response. You creep in until you’re standing next to his cot and suddenly your nightmare vanishes into thin air. You feel your mouth go dry, heat in your cheeks, dampness pooling in your panties as Daryl lays sprawled out a blanket haphazardly over his near naked form. His chest lean but strong rises and falls, an arm with muscles defined and taunt slung across his face covering his eyes. You can see the tattoos that are scattered over his body. Some more crude and jagged than others. Sometimes if he was in a particularly good mood he’d let you trace your fingers over them.
“Ya just gonna keep fuckin’ starin’?” His voice an octave lower than usual sounding like he was gargling grave as he rasped at you. You swallowed the small needy whimper that threatened to escape from your lips. He hadn’t moved his arm from over his face. You shook your head quickly the silence falling over the two of you causing him to shift his arm so he could glare at you. “You’re actin’ shy now? For fucks sake, should’ve throw you out to the walkers.” He grunts scooting over slightly. As you go to climb into and curl into the tiny space he had made for you he sucked his teeth. “Nah Angel ya know the rules.” You pause looking at him finally able to see his face as he shifted pushing himself up partially in the bed as he stared expectantly at you.
He knew you liked it when he called you pet names. Made you dumber in the head than you already were, compliant, made it that much easier to take what he needed from you. He saw you hesitate. “Come on now, you’re the one that snuck into my tent starin’ at me like a pervert.” You fell for the bait hook, line, and sinker. Your lips pressing into a pout, hands balling the hem of your oversized night shirt and a small stamp of your foot. “Not a pervert, I had a nightmare…” Daryl just raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Coulda’ fooled me. Now are ya comin’ in or gettin’ the hell out?”
That was all it took for you to grab the hem of your shirt pulling it up over your head discarding it before crawling under the covers next to him. “Atta girl…” He hummed a smirk on his face as the rough skin of his palms moved across your sides guiding you to settle back against him. You shivered partially from the chill of the cool air on your newly exposed skin and partially from Daryl’s wandering hands. Moving lazily he mapped the dips and curves of your body. He curled around you. His face pressed into the side of your neck, legs tangling together, each move possessive.
He could feel the goosebumps rising on your skin, knew that you were hyper aware of where his hands were on you. As he dragged a hand over your side allowing it to travel down lower trailing over your stomach he paused a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he heard your sharp intake of breath, felt the muscles of your stomach contract sharply, your whole body stiff and tense as he hooked a finger around the waist band of your panties tugging them gently. “What? Ya havin’ another nightmare?”
When you didn’t answer Daryl scoffed giving the soft delicate fabric a harsh tug. “Bet ya didn’t even have a nightmare. Probably had a dirty dream and didn’t know what to do with yourself when ya woke up. Just wanted an excuse to end up in my bed.” He didn’t wait for you to answer, the hand that wasn’t plastered against your stomach coming around you. His arm outstretched his palm heavy against your throat as his fingers curled around your neck. Whether it was a warning or a promise you weren’t sure.
“Ain’t that right? You’re just a horny slut that don’t know how to ask for help.” Daryl hissed into your ear, feeling your pulse hammer against his fingers, the way your throat presses upwards into his palm as you swallowed thickly waiting for what would happen next. “Don’t worry Baby I’ll help ya.” Daryl ducked his head pressing soft teasing kisses behind your ear, the chapped skin of his lips, the slight tickle of his facial hair as he trailed his lips down your neck caused you to squirm. Instantly you felt pressure around your throat, your back arching as your lower body is pushed back by his hand on your belly.
“Quit squirmin.”He grumbled applying more pressure to your stomach to deepen the arch in your back. You swallowed thickly as the swell of your ass met the hard bulge in his boxers. Small whines of embarrassment fell from you as Daryl rutted up against you. Warm puffs of breath tickle the back of your neck. You could feel his cock twitching and swelling as he moved against you chasing the pressure. His hand moves dragging over your stomach to your hip. He clamps down fingers pressing hard into your tender flesh as he drags you back to meet his thrusts. “Fuck yeah Angel, c’mon.“ He grunts head dropping into the crook of your neck.
His fingers hook into the waist band of your panties pulling harshly you hear the ripping of threads, feel the fabric suddenly shift, cutting into you, pressing so deliciously against your clit your hips stutter forward. “More! Please need more.” Your voice comes out choked and desperate. You feel wet sticky fluids seep out of your cunt wetting your panties and starting to leave damp patches on the fabric of Daryl’s boxers as he continues grinding against you.
The fingers that had hooked around your panties slid away trailing under the waistband pausing to swipe at your clit. He continued, fingers making little half circles ment to tease and taunt making your brain turn to mush as you bucked up trying to chase the feeling. The pads of his fingers rough with calloused skin. Uneven, grooved, textured from his time handling that crossbow. Each time the pressure in your stomach began to build, your muscles tingling, your skin too tight his fingers pulled away leaving the ghost of a feeling that was too much and not enough at the same time.
Tears you didn’t even notice rolled down your cheeks as a stream of nonsensical noises fell from your parted lips. “Need to hear ya say it. Come on say it or are ya too dumb to remember how to consent?” You shook your head immediately recognizing your mistake as Daryl shifted. The light taunting touch of his fingers on your throat vanished only to be replaced by corded muscles, your throat nestling into crook of his elbow. Your eyes widened realizing what was about to happen.
“Daryl! Wa-“ you never got to finish your sentence as Daryl bent his arm tightening around your throat cutting off your air way. “No what? Ya don’t want me to touch ya or No you’re not too dumb to consent?”
You choked out a sob. Your hands grabbing at his arm trying to pull it away. Your nails digging into his bicep as he flexed, the muscle bulging crushing your airway causing panic to fill you.
The words are caught in your throat raspy little noises that sound like cat scratches as your lungs burn desperate to expand. Drool puddles on Daryl’s forearm as you start to feel your body go slack, your vision becoming darker. For a second you wonder if you’re going to slip into unconsciousness when suddenly the chokehold Daryl had you in is released. You let him grab you, pushing you so you’re flat on your back as he hovers over you. “Speak. What’d ya want. Now.” His voice has dropped an octave the growl that seems to resonate in his throat turns his voice to gravel. It triggers some primitive part of your brain as you gasp for air. “You. Want you to make me feel good. Want to be yours.”
As you try to blink away the dark spots in your vision Daryl smirks “There ya go, see that’s all ya had to say.” He doesn’t wait for you to reply or snap back at him before he’s pulling your panties down your legs discarding them somewhere off the cot before shoving fingers deep into you. Your back pulls off the cot, your leg involuntarily kicking out. Daryl easily wraps his hand around your ankle to keep you steady as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. “Yeah, you’re wet enough….” He murmurs more to himself than to you as he withdraws his fingers and drops your leg. His hands frantically shoving down his boxers his cock springing free.
He spits into his palm giving his cock a few tugs before he’s back on you. Iron grip wrapping around one of your ankles as he drags you towards him. “Don’t forget to breathe” he grunts. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust or ask him to go slowly as he sinks into your cunt. As the head of his cock pushes past the first wall of tightened muscles he feels his eyes flutter shut. “Fuck you’re tight as shit.” He hisses through gritted teeth, releasing a heavy breath from his nose as he fights to adjust to the way your warm wet insides clamp down on his cock.
After a second he moves your leg to be over his shoulder and he rolls his hip forward, tentative, testing seeing if your muscles will resist. He lets out a small huff of pleasure when he sinks deeper into you. “That’s my girl. My stupid, needy, lil brat.” His voice tightens when he feels your muscles contract at his claim over you. He takes it as a sign that you’re ready for him to move. He draws back slightly before snapping his hips forward, adjusting your leg on his shoulder before he pulls back and plunges forward pushing deep into you fully sheathing himself in you.
He sets a brutal pace. Sloppy, wet, squelching sounds coming from the tent as Daryl drills into you. Your needy little whimpers, whines of desire, and moans of pleasure push him to go faster, harder, deeper. He’s sure he’s gripping your hips so tightly that you’ll have little bruises scattered over the fat that settles there. Good. It’ll remind you who you need in this fucked up world. Right as the thought passed he hit the soft spongey part deep inside of you that never failed to make you whole body constrict.
Hands flying up grappling to find purchase on Daryl’s shoulders. Your nails biting into his skin leaving red angry raised welts in their wake. Your leg still hooked shaking trying to slide lower down wanting to wrap around his waist. A desperate plea to anchor yourself from the orgasm that was rapidly approaching. Daryl’s hand shot out his hand clamping around your jaw. Your chin settled into the dip between his thumb and pointer finger as he held your head in place forcing you to stare at him.
“Who do ya come to when ya need somethin’?”
“You.”
“Who takes care of ya when you’re needy as shit?”
“You.”
Daryl’s grip tightened his fingers digging into your cheeks almost painfully. He leaned down, foreheads almost touching as he whispered. “Whose girl are ya?”
“Daryl’s.”
The acknowledgment is what sent Daryl over the edge. The idea that you were his, that you wanted him, that you’d come to him over anybody else for help, no matter how mean he was, how much he pushed you away, you’d always be his girl. That’s what caused the strangled curse to fall from his lips as he pulled out of you and spilt all over your tits and stomach. Despite the facade he tried to keep up, the mask he wore to match Merle, to be the man his Daddy had expected of him, deep down Daryl prayed, desired, craved, the need to be wanted, to be picked, to be someone’s safe space. You fueled that desire and it was an addiction he fell head first into every single day.
He’d let you stay for about half an hour after he was finished with you. Held you in those strong arms that had nearly put you under. Let you babble about your nightmare only occasionally scoffing and grumbling about how stupid it was. He let you stay until he heard the chirps of birds and felt how the Georgia sun started to warm the inside of his tent. When that happened he slid out of bed, shoving his legs into whatever cleanish pants he can find.
He leans down, grabbing your large sleeping shirt roughly throwing it to you. “Ya gotta go. Got better things to do this mornin’ than coddlin’ and feedin’ into your nightmares.” Out of his peripheral he sees you hesitate, he knows you’re waiting for him to throw you your panties. Instead he turns to face you. Head tilted slightly, eyebrow raised, arms crossed as he stares down at you. “Did I stutter?” His voice is flat, cold, it’s a statement rather than a question and it kicks you into gear as you pull on your shirt and slink out of his tent your cheeks burning.
That had been this morning when he thought that he wouldn’t see you until later this evening. When he would come back from hunting with Merle, between the two of them there was often enough food for dinner. But no Merle had decided to join the group who were heading back into the city. Daryl had argued with him. Told him he was being a stupid greedy bastard but Merle had just grinned at him.
“What’s wrong baby brother? Thought you’d appreciate me givin’ ya the opportunity to have some private time with your lady.” Daryl could feel the heat crawl up his neck and knew Merle saw it from the way the corner of his lip twitched and the gleam in his eye. He rested a heavy hand on Daryl’s shoulder “Ya should be thankin’ old Merle. Maybe ya can teach ‘er a trick or two out there yeah?” As he walked off he turned his grin crooked as he cupped his hands calling back to Daryl. “A huntin’ trick baby brother not a whore trick!” Merle’s laugh echoed, bouncing off the cliffs of the ravine.
Now he was here, in the woods, trying to hunt which was turning out to be an impossible feat due to your clumsy, loud, and completely useless presence. You had scared away all of the game pushing you both deeper and deeper into the woods. It didn’t help that you jumped at every little noise, your head swiveling to look at nothing while ignoring the path in front of you. It was grating away the last of the little patience he had left. He stopped abruptly his whole body pulled taunt. His knuckles white from how hard he was gripping his crossbow. His head bowed as he tried to steady his breathing intuitively knowing that you were approaching behind him on his left side. He heard your intake of breath and the last of his sanity snapped.
He rounded on you. “Not a fuckin’ word.” He snarled stepping into your space the two of you nearly chest to chest as he got in your face. “I swear I’ll fuckin’ leave ya out here for the walkers to find if ya don’t shut it.” He saw the way your eyes widened how you froze up when he postured at you. Got in your space only a few inches separating you. Saw the way you flinched, how your knees buckled slightly, the way your breath caught in your throat. He knew the threat of leaving you hit a nerve. It always did but for the first time he was considering carrying it out.
“Should’ve never brought ya. Can’t send ya back ‘cause you’d get lost then ate by walkers. Fuckin’ useless.” He turns his back to you as he spits on the ground in frustration. “Didn’t sign up to be your fuckin’ babysitter.” His words are bitter, biting through the small sense of confidence you had as you shrink back. “Ain’t that right? You’re dumb enough to follow anybody to your death as long as they give ya a shred of attention on the way.” His words stung and you could feel the lump forming in your throat desperate to defend yourself from his verbal tirade. “Stop it. That’s not true and you know it.” You hate the way your voice cracks coming out too quiet. But it gets Daryl’s attention.
He whips around eyes narrowed. You never defend yourself, or when you do it’s normally pleading for him and Merle to stop teasing you while fighting back tears. But this seems different, you seemed angry, frustrated, sick of being treated like the precious little thing you were. Daryl Dixon was suddenly interested because for once you weren’t laying down and taking it. You were actually showing those tiny claws and teeth that he’d been itching to see. The ones the group refused to acknowledge you had because they’d prefer to keep you gentle and innocent. “You just say somethin’?” He tilted his head his voice flat but cold. Waiting to see if you’d bite back again.
“I don’t need a babysitter. Nobody ever gives me a chance to try anything!” You snap at him your fingers curling into fists your voice still shaky but suddenly has heat attached. “So stop calling me useless and actually teach me something!” The words explode from you before you can stop them. A waterfall of feelings that you’ve tried to ignore pushed to the surface because the one person who actually treated you like a person (albeit in his own fucked up way) was suddenly starting to treat you like everyone else.
“Oh yeah?” Daryl moves stomping back towards you but for the first time ever you don’t cower away. You brace yourself as you come chest to chest with him. He leans down and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face, and although everything about his body language says he’s pissed there’s a glint in his clear blue eyes. A hunger that you haven’t quite seen before. “What’re gonna do about it Baby?” Daryl sneers the nickname driving home exactly what he and everyone thought about you. It became too much and without thinking your hands shot out and shoved him away. Well you tried. Daryl was as moveable as a stone wall and he didn’t even have the decency to look annoyed when you shoved him. He just stared down at you with an eyebrow raised and the corner of his lip twitching in amusement.
“Fuck you Daryl. I’m going back to camp. Alone.” You muttered turning on your heel to stomp away. You were fairly certain you could get back to camp and the idea of asking for help now was too humiliating. You expected Daryl to stop you but he didn’t he watched as you started walking away. “Ya know, you’re goin’ the wrong way.” He called to you casually but you didn’t care. Didn’t want to admit defeat so you kept walking, and Daryl silently followed. He was more than happy to let you pout, let this streak of independence continue on until you eventually realized you were out of your element and came scampering back to him. He’d be there like he always was. Be there to help, to keep you safe, to show you that your best still wasn’t good enough, and that you still needed him.
And you sure as shit did. Daryl’s hand shot out grabbing your upper arm and yanking you back towards him with all his strength. As you stumbled he moved pushing his chest against your back to pin you up against the jagged rock face. “Walker.” He breathed in your ear his hand clamping down on your chin moving your head so you could see. You felt your brief streak of rebellion vanish replaced by the cold chill of terror when you realized that you were about to step out not too far away from a shuffling herd of walkers.
“Maybe this’ll teach ya a lesson on how to listen.”Your whole body stiffened as you processed his words. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he lets go of your face. His fingers brushed over the waist of your jeans fingers popping open the button. Your hands fly down clamping on his wrist to try and stop his movements. “What’re you doing?!” You whisper frantic trying to have Daryl understand that you wanted to get away from the walkers not stay and observe them. “‘M gonna teach ya the importance of keepin’ your mouth shut.”
It was the final straw, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. Earnestly crying not the few quite tears that escaped from the corners of your eyes. But big true tears that flowed down your cheeks. The mixture of frustration, fear, humiliation, and desperate desire to be treated like an equal poured out of you. “Awe com’n now didn’t ya say ya wanted be my girl this mornin’?” Daryl cooed turning you around your back still against the jagged rock as you stared up at him. “Yeah?” You nodded dumbly leaning in as Daryl cupped your cheek you eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Daryl swiped his thumb over your bottom lip gently as he leaned in. “Then shut up and fuckin’ act like my girl.”
Daryl watched your face crumple and just as he predicted you scampered back to him. You let him unbutton your jeans, undoing your belt not caring as they fell pooling at your feet. You raised your arms opening them and Daryl smirked easily picking you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “There’s my girl. I’ll keep ya safe.” He hummed as he held you up with one arm, the other was busy unbuttoning his own pants.
He should’ve known you weren’t going to be wet but he’s still annoyed when his fingers dip down to pull your panties to the side. He watches you wince as he pushes a finger past your entrance. He can hear the whines of discomfort before you even make them He gives you a look and you mouth the word sorry. He rolls his eyes before he suddenly is pressing his lips against yours biting at your bottom lip gently. The second you open your mouth you feel his tongue sweeping over your teeth as he swallows the noises that crawl up your throat.
A wave of triumph fills him as his fingers begin to be coated with your sticky fluids. He continues to work you open with his fingers until he can’t take it anymore. He swallows your gasp as he pulls his fingers out. He wipes them over his cock letting your juices coat the top of his shaft as he lines himself up. Then he slowly, pushes into you. He’s more aware of the stretch and after a minute his hips make shallow thrusts, trying to stay quiet out in the woods. He sends a silent prayer that the soft pants of breath and the wet squelch of his cock lazily pulling out of you is too faint for the walkers to hear.
Finally you relax, your inner muscles that had been squeezing him to the point of no return finally loosening and adjusting to him. He picks up the pace his hands shifting to grab the fat of your ass tilting you slightly back against the rock so he can get the perfect angle to push himself deeper into you. The strangled noise that is pulled from him would have been embarrassing if not for the shocking fact that your hand, soft, warm, and delicate slammed over Daryl’s mouth startling him. He glared at your tiny smirk bucking his hips up in such a way that it causes your eyes to widen, sees the air get stolen from your lungs, and watches in satisfaction as you bit down on your lip to shut yourself up.
He drives into you, fucking the fear, the anger, and the resentment straight out of you. The head of his cock repeatedly bulling that spot deep inside of you that causes your body to convulse. You let your head gently bounce against the rock as you try to keep your breathing quiet but it seems impossible with the way Daryl is drilling into you. How his mouth is attached to your neck leaving bruises that you’ll have a hell of a time trying to explain to Lori. But as you start to feel the spring deep inside you coil heat in your belly spreading your eyelids flutter and thighs start to tremble.
Daryl knows you’re close. He’s fucked you enough now to know your tells, and he knows just how loud you can be when you’re about to cum. You feel his hand clamp onto the back of your head causing your eyes to snap open. He’s pulling you forward and you realize what he’s trying to signal you to do. So you press your face against his shoulder and bite down into the salty, dirty, flesh of Daryl Dixon. It’s just enough to stifle the moan of pleasure as your orgasm slams into you. Your walls fluttering, spasming around Daryl’s cock as he holds you tighter, his thrusts becoming sharper, harder, sloppier as he fucks you through your orgasm and chases his own. It’s too much all at once and Daryl can’t get away squeezing his eyes shut, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you feel a flood of something wet and warm fill you realizing a second too late that Daryl came.
It was stupid, he knew it, you knew it but it had happened and he wasn’t willing to talk about it. Not when you were still so warm and wet and pliant in his arms. So he held you. Kept you pinned against the rock until you both could breathe again. He waited for you to yell, to cry, hell he waited for you to hit him but it never happened. Instead you silently wrapped your arms around his shoulder and kept your face hidden. “Are they all gone?” You asked after several minutes of silence. Daryl just nodded and you let out a shaky little sigh unwrapping your legs as he gently set you on the ground. His hands lingering on your hips as he watched your legs tremble.
You both were quiet redressing, Daryl watching as you fumbled with your belt. “Need me to carry ya?” It was the best olive branch Daryl could extend. Both an apology for what he had done and a way to show that in his own special way he cared for you. But to his surprise you shook your head. “No I can walk… but maybe if we find a squirrel on the way home I can use that to shoot it?” You gestured to the crossbow slung on Daryl’s back your voice having a hopeful tilt that drew a genuine laugh from Daryl. “Angel ya need to learn how to aim it first before ya shoot. But I guess that’s something I can teach ya.”
The smile you gave him made his chest feel funny. But he didn’t have time to think about it before he grabbed your hand and hauled you back towards camp. You both knew that to the group you were an odd pairing but you both needed eachother to survive in this fucked up world. You needed Daryl because he could provide for you, keep you safe, and teach you how to adapt and grow. Daryl didn’t want to admit it but he needed you to keep himself from slipping into a role that had been set out before him. You with all your gentle innocence kept him from becoming his daddy, from becoming Merle, from becoming something he found far worse than a walker. Turns out Daryl might need you more than you need him.
you my little sparkle
touch me till i vomit
you’re so smooth
@tankhall
been smiling a little too hard at pics of older men lately
He is my kink 🩸🦷🫀🥀
alcoholic trashy bf norman is canon guys 💞💞💞
i see a man on a motorcycle and immediately start maladaptive daydreaming about daryl dixon