“Ugh, what the hell babe, why are you so cold.” Daryl complains once you get into the bed and cling onto him like a koala, putting your feet in between his thighs and your hands underneath his shirt, right on his tummy. As winter came, the prison became a sort of refrigerator, the cement walls containing all of the winter freezing air inside, making it colder inside than outside.
“Baby, warm me, it’s really cold…” you giggle, teasing him. Daryl always ran hot, he was like an oven even in the cold temperatures, so you always took advantage of it, stealing his warm sweaters and being very close to him at all times, in bed and outside.
“It’s you who’s wearing a tiny top and thong. If you’re so cold, dress warmer.” He teases you. You know he’s joking and loves it when you wear almost nothing to bed with him.
“I know you love it silly.” You say, kissing his lips.
“You know me so well. I can warm you up in other ways…” Daryl jokes, not really, tucking your face into his neck, feeling you inhale his motor oil and cigarette smell. Meanwhile he has your hair up in his nose, your smell intoxicating him. “You smell so good, I want you.” He says, pushing his hand down to your ass, moving it towards his dick, groaning when you start to rub your barely clothed cunt on his soft, starting to grow, bulge.
“Oh, why so soft huh?” You joke. “Can’t get it up, you old man?” You say giggling after feeling a sharp slap on your ass.
“I’ll show you how old I am.” He says, squeezing your ass hard and slamming his face into yours, tongues intertwining, interchanging saliva. He tastes like cigarettes and you love it. “You have to be quiet baby, can’t have others hear us.” He says into your mouth, knowing damn well everyone has already heard you fucking so many times that they moved you to the furthest and most isolated cell of the block. “Will you be quiet for me?”
“Mmhh...” You mumble an affirmative response into his mouth.
“Say it, baby.” He demands, separating himself from you, leaving an empty and cold space.
“Yes.” You say, whining from the loss of contact.
“That’s my girl.” He says, laying on his back. “Ride me baby, since you’re so cold, work for it.” He smirks, putting his hands behind his head, flexing those muscles you love so much.
You whine but get on top of him. He’s rock hard underneath you, making a mess in his boxers.
You push yourself down on his covered bulge, both of you moaning at the much needed contact, and start rocking back and forth.
“That’s it my girl, doing so well for daddy.” He says, shoving his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, wetting them and then placing them on your ass to play with your thong string, pulling it to the side to reveal your asshole. His wet fingers find that little tight spot and press on it.
“Oh…” you whine. You quickly pull off him to see a wet patch on his grey boxers, not knowing if it’s his or your wetness on there, maybe both. You pull his boxers down and pull your panties to the side.
“Spit.” You demand Daryl, who obliges and spits into your open hand. You rub his spit on his cock and line yourself on him. Pushing down, your head and eyes roll back from pleasure. “Yes, so big.” You say, trying to bounce faster.
“You’re doing to well baby.” He says, helping you by holding onto your ass cheeks and pushing you up and down. Meanwhile, his fingers re-find that tight hole and start pushing in. “This ok?” He asks, pushing his finger deeper into you, you nod.
“Feels so good, daddy.” You say, drool falling onto his chest while you speak.
His finger goes all the way in, a second one following.
“Yes, yes…” you moan, going faster.
Daryl pulls your tank top down, revealing your tits, and buries his face in them, sucking one and then another while his other hand plays slightly with your clit and that’s when you come. The orgasm so hard your vision goes blank and you’re squirting.
“Such a good baby, you’re doing so well.” He praises you once you’ve come down from your high. As you look down, you see his lower part being covered in all types of bodily fluids. You instantly blush and hide in his neck. “Don’t you dare hide from me now, I’ve seen and touched all of you. That was the hottest thing you’ve ever done. We should do this more often.” He says and you giggle.
“Now I’m all warmed up thanks to you.” You say and kiss him on the mouth.
Daryl x pregnant reader he’s obsessed with her knew curves and cannot keep his hands to himself lol
Okay, but like, you're so right. You're out here complaining because your pants won't button around your bump anymore? Daryl would damn near rip them in half in his excitement to get you out of them. This man sees one (1) singular stretch mark? He's pulling you away to the most private place he can find so he can get under your shirt to stare at it. You suddenly realize you have an ass like an old-style Cadillac? So has he. He's doing a very bad job at being normal about it. Pregnancy hormones making you horny? Fantastic. Because poor Daryl has been hard since he realized you put on an extra layer of fat when you got pregnant.
The rest of the group would literally start walking around with the same awareness that they had before y'all settled. Only now it has nothing to do with walkers. They're afraid they're going to happen upon Daryl feeling you up and panting all pathetic like because he literally cannot control himself. It would be a very long 9 months for all involved, honestly.
Needy husband Daryl needs to sleep touching you at all times! If you move even an inch away from him he will pull you back into his arms and bury his face into your neck or hair.
Needy husband Daryl who always has his hands on you. His favourite places to place his hands are your thighs and your ass.
Needy husband Daryl who can’t help himself but stare at your ass and tits all the time. Once summer started, the prison had been so hot during all times of day and night, so your only dress code was shorts and a small tank top, with no bra. He loved staring at your tits bouncing up and down, nipples staring at him through the tank. Ass looking amazing in those tiny shorts that showed the top of your lacy panties when you bent down.
Needy husband Daryl who pulls you by the belt buckle of your jean shorts. You get hot when he does that.
Needy husband Daryl who stares at your ring finger wearing his ring. He feels possessive towards you.
Needy husband Daryl who has to fuck you before and after his runs. It’s his ritual. Even if he has little time before leaving, he still finds a few minutes for a quick fuck with you.
Needy husband Daryl who loves when you beg him to choke you with his big arms while fucking you from behind. He loves to feel you squeezing him hard, drooling all over his elbow. He knows you get the best orgasms ever from that position, so whenever he can, which is always, he will fuck you in that position.
Needy husband Daryl who begs you to let him eat you out while on a run alone. Imagine him being all needy from seeing you kill walkers, that he needs to beg to eat you out when you arrive to your scavenging destination.
Can we get season 1 Daryl and Fem reader on a run who are CONSTANTLY arguing and fighting especially since she has a smart ass mouth and they have to hide out in like a grocery store or something because the car they took blew a tire and it’s pouring outside and they end up hooking up ⁉️😏
Keep quiet and cum
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader
⟡ Main Index | ⟡ Archive for Earth-1114
Classification and content warnings: rough standing sex, unprotected p-in-v, ass smacking, hair pulling, dirty talk/shit talking during sex, creampie while on birth control and squirting
Temporal setting: Season 1
Word count: 0.9k
The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed overhead, casting a sterile, flickering glow over the aisles of stale chips and canned soup but the atmosphere between you and Daryl was anything but cold. It was caustic, the air was thick with the residue of a three-hour screaming match over a shredded tire and Daryl’s stubborn refusal to admit he’d botched the patch job. That frustration had curdled into a desperate, aggressive hunger and now, the only sound filling the store was the rhythmic, wet slap of skin hitting skin.
You were bent over the checkout counter, your palms pressed flat against the cold Formica, your pants and underwear pooled around your ankles. Daryl was behind you, chest heaving against your back as his calloused hands gripped your hips with bruising intensity. He was fucking you with a raw, punishing cadence, driving his thick cock deep into your pussy with every thrust, as if he were trying to drive himself right through you.
Even now, with your vision blurring and your breath hitching, you couldn’t shut your mouth.
"This...the only thing you're good at, Dixon?" you gasped, your voice strained and shaky. "Since you can't...oh fuck! fix a damn tire... you just...ah! fuck things dumb?"
The response was instantaneous. Daryl’s hand flew up, palm connecting with your right butt cheek in a loud, stinging smack that echoed through the empty store. The shock of the pain sent a jolt straight to your clit and you let out a loud pathetic moan, head tossing back.
"Watch yer damn mouth," he rasped, his voice a low, dangerous growl near your ear.
He didn't slow down, if anything, the insult fueled him. He reached forward, winding his fingers deep into your hair and yanking your head back sharply. The sudden tension in your scalp forced your throat open, leaving you exposed as he hammered into you. You rolled your eyes back in sheer pleasure, the sensation of being dominated and filled to the brim making your brain feel like it was melting.
The friction was intense, a searing heat that built with every plunge. You could feel the walls of your pussy stretching, gripping him tight as the wet sounds of your lubrication splashed against his thighs. You were being fucked dumb, the cognitive part of your brain shutting down until there was nothing left but the feeling of his cock hitting your cervix and the stinging heat on your skin.
"You're so...goddamn desperate," you teased, a breathless laugh escaping you. "Mmm angh! Can't handle...a little criticism...so w-what? have to just...shove it in?"
Daryl groaned, a sound of pure animal frustration and accelerated. He began to jackhammer into you, his thrusts becoming short, fast and punishing. You were shaking, fingers clawing at the counter as the pleasure became too much, forcing a tidal wave to crash over you.
You felt your internal muscles seize, pulsing rhythmically around him as a forceful orgasm ripped through you. You screamed, the sound echoing off the linoleum floors, body shuddering under the weight of the climax but as the waves began to subside, Daryl didn't stop. He kept grinding into you, breath hot and ragged against your neck and cock still hard and insistent.
You panted, head hanging low and voice returning in a needy, blabbering whine. "Don’t fucking stop, ’m gonna cum again, fuckkkk agh! You wanna break me?" You shifted your hips, feeling the lingering sensitivity. "D-Daryl…If you actually...make me go again... I'll be quiet...all the fucking way back to the quarry. I swear."
Daryl tightened his grip on your waist until it hurt. He leaned in, lips brushing your ear with a gravelly, ruined whisper.
"That’s even if ya can still walk by then," he rasped.
The sheer arrogance of it, the promise of the wreckage he intended to leave you in, sent a fresh surge of arousal crashing through you. Your pussy clamped down on him in a sudden, involuntary spasm and the intensity triggered a violent reaction. You felt a hot, gushing release as you began squirting, the fluid spraying down and soaking your thighs as you wailed, body arching back into him.
Daryl let out a choked sound, his own control finally snapping. He let out a guttural groan, body stiffening as he drove himself in one last time, burying his cock as deep as it could possibly go. You felt the hot, thick jets of his cum erupting inside you, filling you to the brim, pulsing against your walls in heavy waves.
He stayed there for a moment, panting, forehead pressed against your shoulder, before he slowly pulled out. The sound of him sliding out of your drenched pussy was wet and loud and as he stepped back, he delivered one final, sharp smack to your sore ass.
"Now keep yer damn word and shut yer mouth fer once," he commanded, voice returning to that stubborn, gruff tone.
You collapsed forward onto the counter, limbs trembling and quaking, breath coming in shallow sobs of exhaustion. You felt completely undone, mind now a blank slate of pleasure and fatigue. As you slowly pushed off the counter and straightened, you felt a warm, viscous stream of his cum leaking down your inner thigh, dripping onto your panties.
You leaned back against the nearest shelving, staring up at the ceiling, body still humming with it. You thought about the birth control pills you had tucked away, enough for the next six months.
You wondered, with a dazed half-smile, just how many times he could possibly cum inside you before those pills stopped working. Looking at him, still flushed and dominant, you suspected he was more than capable of testing the limit.
Summary: Daryl Dixon never imagined marriage would mean anything to him after the world ended. Then he found you.
The ring sat in Daryl’s pocket for six straight days.
Six.
Every morning he told himself he was being stupid. Every night he touched the small velvet box hidden inside his jacket and thought about you anyway.
It had happened during a supply run outside Alexandria. It was just like any other day. Just another abandoned house slowly being swallowed by time and nature. Broken windows, collapsed furniture, dust coating every surface.
Daryl had only entered because Aaron wanted canned food from the kitchen cupboards.
Instead, Daryl found the ring upstairs. A tiny velvet box hidden inside a bedside table drawer.
He almost ignored it completely, but then he opened it.
And there it was.
A simple ring with a small diamond that still caught the afternoon sunlight somehow despite years of dust and ruin. Daryl stared at it for a long moment. The old world felt strange sometimes. He found ghosts everywhere.
People who once loved each other enough to promise forever. Most days Daryl thought forever was a dangerous thing to believe in.
Then he thought about you.
About your sleepy smile every morning when he returned from runs. About the way you automatically reached for him. About sitting on the porch together after dark while you rested your head on his shoulder, fingers interwined. About how Alexandria finally felt like home because you were there. And suddenly the thought appeared so naturally it nearly stole the air from him.
Marry her.
Daryl immediately shut the box again.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself.
Yet somehow the ring still ended up in his pocket. The problem was that once the idea existed in his mind, it refused to leave him alone.
By the second day, Carol noticed something was going on with him. Mostly because Daryl kept absentmindedly checking his pocket every five minutes.
“You’re acting weird,” Carol Peletier observed casually while chopping vegetables.
“Ain’t.”
“You nearly walked into a wall earlier.”
Daryl grunted and Carol narrowed her eyes.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You’re going to ask her to marry you.”
He looked genuinely horrified.
“Keep your damn voice down!”
Carol gasped dramatically.
“You are!”
“Shut up.”
“You found a ring, didn’t you?”
Daryl stared at her silently, Carol placed a hand over her heart.
“This is the best day of my life.”
“It ain’t even like that.”
“You have carried around that expression for three days straight, Daryl. You look like a frightened raccoon.”
“A what?” He scowled deeply.
“You heard me.”
Carol spent the next several days being completely unbearable. Every time you walked into a room she smirked at Daryl like she knew a secret.
Which she did.
Daryl considered throwing himself off Alexandria’s walls at least twice.
Meanwhile you remained blissfully unaware, mostly because Daryl still acted normal around you.
Well.
Mostly normal.
You noticed the increased staring and the fact he kept opening his mouth like he wanted to say something before changing his mind. One evening while sitting together on the porch outside your house, you finally nudged his shoulder lightly.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothin’.”
“You’re terrible at lying.”
“Said I’m fine.”
You studied him carefully, he looked nervous, which almost never happened unless something truly mattered to him. You reached over and took his hand gently.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Daryl’s chest tightened painfully, that was exactly the problem, because he loved you so much it genuinely frightened him sometimes.
That night he barely slept, and by morning he had decided two things.
First, he was absolutely going to ask you.
Second, he might actually die from the anxiety beforehand.
The opportunity arrived unexpectedly later that afternoon, most of Alexandria gathered near the centre of the street helping repair fencing after a recent storm.
You stood nearby sorting tools while laughing at something Glenn said.
And Daryl suddenly thought, If I don’t ask now, I never will.
His heart hammered violently.
“Hey,” he muttered.
You looked over immediately, smiling the second you saw him.
There it is, Daryl thought helplessly.
That damn smile.
“You alright?”
“Yeah.”
He absolutely was not. Daryl rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms against his trousers before glancing around.
Too many people.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
“Can ya come with me a sec?”
You tilted your head curiously but followed him without question, Daryl led you behind one of the quieter houses near the edge of Alexandria where the noise from the others faded into the background.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, worried, you have never seen Daryl like this before. Daryl turned towards you. Then immediately forgot every single sentence he had prepared.
Brilliant.
“Daryl?”
He swallowed hard, his fingers fumbled nervously inside his jacket pocket before pulling out the small velvet box. Your eyes widened instantly.
“Oh.”
Daryl stared firmly at the ground, he was too afraid to look at you in the eyes.
“Found it on a run.”
You looked down at the ring before looking back at him, he was still staring at the ground.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah.”
Daryl’s heart pounded so hard he genuinely thought he might throw up, finally he forced himself to continue but he still couldn’t look at you.
“Been carryin’ it around.”
“Why?”
Daryl finally looked up at you then, his blue eyes were full of something so open and vulnerable it made your chest ache.
“Cause I kept thinkin’ about you.”
Daryl rubbed a hand nervously over the back of his neck.
“Ain’t got some big speech planned or nothin’,” he admitted roughly. “Don’t really know how ta do this right.”
“You’re doing fine,” you whispered, he laughed a little under his breath.
“Nah. Prob’ly not.” Then his expression turned serious again. “But I know I wanna wake up next ta you every day I got left.”
Tears immediately filled your eyes Daryl stepped closer.
“Know the world’s all messed up now. Maybe rings don’t mean much anymore.”
“They do,” you whispered shakily as his thumb brushed nervously against the edge of the box.
“You make this place feel good.” His voice cracked slightly. “Make me feel good.”
Your heart completely melted.
“And I…” He exhaled shakily. “Hell.”
“Take your time.” You smiled, you could only imagine how difficult this was for him. He was never a man of many words. Daryl looked at you with so much love it nearly hurt.
“Will you be my wife?”
Silence.
Daryl’s entire body tensed immediately. Then you started crying, his eyes widened in panic.
“Oh God. Was that bad?”
“No!” You laughed through your tears instantly.
“You cryin’ seemed bad!”
You grabbed his jacket quickly before he could spiral further.
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes!”
Relief hit his face so hard it almost looked painful, you were sure a huge weight fell off his shoulders just then.
“Oh thank Christ.”
You burst into laughter while he shakily slid the ring onto your finger. It fit surprisingly well.
“There,” Daryl muttered softly, staring down at your hand like he could not believe it. “Mine.”
Your entire chest warmed.
“Your wife,” you corrected gently.
Daryl looked absolutely wrecked emotionally by those words.
Then he kissed you, with overwhelmingly tenderness.
One hand cradled your face while the other settled firmly against your waist like he needed to keep you close.
When you finally pulled apart, both of you were smiling helplessly. Unfortunately, neither of you realised Carol had followed him.
“Oh my God!”
You jumped, Daryl groaned. Carol stood nearby looking ready to explode with excitement.
“I knew it! I knew it!”
“You were spying on us?!” Daryl snapped.
“Yes,” Carol replied easily. “And I regret nothing, that was so cute.”
Then she spotted the ring on your hand and immediately screamed loud enough to alert half of Alexandria. Within seconds, people started appearing around the corner.
Glenn looked delighted, Maggie gasped happily, Rick blinked once before grinning.
The entire street erupted into celebration, yet through all the noise, Daryl only looked at you. Still staring at the ring on your finger like he could barely believe this was real.
“You happy?” you whispered, Daryl looked back up immediately, then he cupped your face gently.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Got everythin’ I ever wanted.”
Probably thought I forgot about this. Nope I’ve been slowly working on it. My brain has just been consumed by the stripper reader x Daryl fanfic I’m making which hopefully will be out soon!
Part 1, Daryl’s POV
Smut ♥︎ MDNI 18+
TW: dry humping, masterbation. P in v smut, riding, praise.
🦷“Here put him in my room!” Your offer is automatic. Hershel shoots you a look but you ignore it as you slip by rushing up the stairs showing Rick to your room.
🦷Daryl, covered in dirt and bleeding from all parts of his body looks out of place in the soft colors, fluffy fabrics, and general coziness of your bedroom.
🦷You tend to Daryl every day. At first under the watchful eye of Hershel but eventually by yourself. Sit with him longer than most people. Watching with wide curious eyes because for the first time he isn’t filthy and he actually looks peaceful.
🦷Daryl who gets his wish. Waking up to your pretty face and soft touches. For a second he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. He stares at you like a newborn blinking stupidly. He watches as you continue to peel the bandage off of his side too engrossed with your task to notice that he’s conscious.
🦷 “How’d you die?” His voice is raspy from not using it, his head feels like cotton, Every part of his fucking body and head hurt like hell and yet all he can focus on is you.
🦷You freeze eyes snapping up, your breathing hitched and for a second there’s silence before you’re standing up moving faster than lightning towards your bedroom door screaming down the stairs. “DADDY COME QUICK! MAGGIE GET RICK! DARYL’S AWAKE!”
🦷You come running back to him the biggest smile on your face. Tears of joy pricking the corners of your eyes as you sink to your knees leaning against the bed. Your hand reaches out to tenderly touch his shoulder.
🦷Then he realizes he’s shirtless he immediately bristles. Shame, embarrassment, and fear fill him. Have you seen his back? He doesn’t want you to touch the raised skin. Doesn’t want to see the shocked look that turns into a sad sort of pity.
🦷 So he reacts. Reflexively pushing your hand away. “Stop fussin’ over me like a fuckin’ child.” The words are unnecessarily cruel and hit you deep. It’s ment to hurt. Ment to put you back at arms length where you’re safe. Safe from him.
🦷Daryl who watches your expression falter your hand freeze before you pull away. Before he gets the chance to explain the door bursts open and Rick, Glenn, Hershel, and Andrea all come in and you slip away.
🦷He doesn’t see you the rest of the day. Nor the next day. But he can’t escape you. He’s in your room after all. Whether he wants to or not he gets to know you.
🦷Gets to know you by the art of your walls, the trinkets on the shelves, the titles of the shitty romance books on your bedside table. At night he swears he can smell your shampoo on the pillow, hear your voice through the wind chimes, feel your skin against the cotton sheets.
🦷When you finally show up it’s with dinner. A bowl of soup and some bread. You move quickly, quietly, eyes downcast as you set down the tray. Turning to leave without so much as a glance or a word. The ache in his chest is unbearable. He can’t let you get away.
🦷Daryl who catches your wrist when you turn to leave. “Stay?” If you hadn’t held your breath you weren’t sure if you would’ve heard the plea. You swallow hard and nod.
🦷Daryl who finally works up the courage to kiss you. Soft, gentle, his hand carefully cradling the back of your head. His fingers tangle in your hair when you take control and deepen the kiss.
🦷 The kiss is anything but clean. Teeth and tongue. Whimpers and whines. Breathy moans between pants. When both finally come up for air you’re still connected by a string of saliva. Your lips are swollen bitten pink. He chews on his bottom lip nervously.
🦷 “shut the door.” You don’t have to be told twice. You nearly lose your footing as you scramble towards the door. Lifting the handle and moving it slowly in just the way that you know it won’t squeak.
🦷 “But your wounds!” You protest as one hand wraps around your wrist and the other grips your waist. You squeal as he hauls you into the bed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah wounds heal ‘n shit.” He grumbled as he hauls you up onto the bed. “Ain’t you ever heard of sexual healin’?”
🦷You hadn’t but Daryl was more than willing to teach you. His hands heavy on your waist as he helps you perch on top of him. Gently he pulls your hips forward before dragging them back. Guiding you into a clumsy rhythm.
🦷Your face flushes as you feel him harden under you. A needy whimper falling from your lips as you look down at him. Met with half lidded eyes and red tipped ears. You roll your hips experimentally. Rewarded by feeling his fingers press harder into your hips as he tries to restrain himself.
🦷Within minutes your panties are a sticky mess, Daryl is damn near whining underneath you his hips bucking up to meet the frantic little thrusts of your hips. You stead yourself on his chest desperate for more and Daryl is all too eager to comply.
🦷Both of you are out of clothes in a heart beat. Daryl’s hands trailing up your body. Quick possessive movements that cause goosebumps to rise to your skin. You sit perched slightly below his pelvis your mouth going dry when you see his cock.
🦷He can’t help but smirk watching your face flush. “Ya can touch it ya know.” He teases gently his hand wrapping around yours as he guides your trembling hand towards him.
🦷The moment he feels your fingers shyly wrap around his cock his brain short circuits. His cock twitches and you involuntarily tighten your grip. He can’t help but thrust upwards fucking into your hand.
🦷You who’s sat frozen watching mesmerized until you’re pulled back to the present by the pressure of his hand wrapping around yours. It’s a silent plea but you understand.
🦷You let Daryl teach you how to touch him. The rhythm, the slight twist of the wrist when you reach the tip, the way each stroke made his cock jump. A pearly bead of precum oozing out.
🦷The second Daryl trails his hand over your thighs. His fingers dipping down between your folds feeling how wet and warm you are he can’t help but push a finger in. The little gasp you give is so sweet.
🦷He knows he’s teasing you. With every swipe, every push, every curl of his finger your hand on his cock falters. When he slips a second finger in you abandon the rhythm all together chasing your own pleasure.
🦷Neither of you can take it anymore evident by Daryl’s red leaking cock and the sticky white fluids that cling to Daryl’s fingers, webbing as he pulls them apart. He greedily shoving the fingers in his mouth sucking them clean watching with hooded eyes how you stiffen.
🦷It was agonizing for both of you. A slow descent into madness as you lowered yourself inch by inch. The walls of your pussy fluttering as you adjusted to his size. “Just like that pretty. Fuck feel so good.” He’s panting trying his best to stay still but you make it so hard. His knuckles are white from how tight he’s holding onto you. Your palms press flat against the center of his chest as you try to steady yourself.
🦷When your pussy finally takes all of him you’re a mess. Your cheeks are red, mouth open as you try to catch your breath, your thighs are already trembling on either side of him from how full you feel. It’s too much and not enough all at once. “Fuck, you’re tight. Ya need to relax pretty.”
🦷Daryl who experimentally rolls his hips. His eyes never leaving your face watching as your face scrunches trying to adjust. Finally you start to relax your own body matching the tentative thrusts. You look so beautiful like this on top of him.
🦷 “M-more. Please more.” You moan out not entirely sure what you’re asking for but Daryl understands and he picks up the pace. The tip of his cock kissing your cervix as his hands pull you down to meet him. It’s heavenly and for once Daryl lets himself get lost in something he wants. Something he needs.
🦷Your pussy drools all over him with each bounce. His gaze trailing from your parted lips that he wants to push his fingers past. To the way your nipples are pebbled so perfectly he wants to sit up and suck one, abuse the flesh between his teeth just to see what sounds you make. Finally his gaze lands on where you two are connected.
🦷Slick and fluids a ring of creamy white forming around the base of his cock nearly causing him to cum. He picks up the pace sweat starting to form on his chest, his arms, down his neck as he moves you up and down along his length.
🦷 The way your pussy clenches around him. Wet, velvet walls that suck his cock right back. He’s fucking you deeply reaching places your fingers have never felt. The way you’re looking down at him face flushed, chest heaving, a deep rooted need on your face and Daryl is nothing if not a provider.
🦷 “I’ve got ya.” His voice is wrecked as he tries to reassure you. One of his hands finally releases your hip moving down over your tummy. His thumb pressing hard against your clit as he rubs little circles watching as your whole body reacts. Fighting off the inevitable.
🦷You fall first. A wail of pleasure passing through your lips as your head falls back. Your hips stutter but Daryl is there to catch you. Fucking you through your orgasm. One hand clamped on your waist the other has the rough pad of this thumb still working frantically over your clit. He feels you gush over him, his lap becoming wet with your release and that’s all it takes before the muscles low in his abdomen coil and snap.
🦷You both fall asleep entangled in the sheets. A mess of limbs curling around each other as Daryl keeps your face tucked against his chest. The moon moves across the sky and the birds slowly start to sing as the sun climbs in the sky. Neither of you hear the floor boards groan from down the hall. Neither of you stir when your door squeaks as it’s opened. Neither of you see the shocked expression of Maggie eyes widen, body tense, jaw dropped as she stares at you.
🦷What’s worse is neither of you see Hershel behind Maggie. His face flat, brows furrowed, his expression unreadable. A few seconds pass before he turns with swift steps leaving Maggie to quietly shut the door and deal with the fall out. A desperate attempt to give the two of you a few more moments of peace before all hell brakes loose.
the heat from the road rose in shimmering waves, but it was nothing compared to the sweltering, suffocating silence hanging between the two of you on the bike.
the asphalt gave way to cracked dirt and overgrown weeds as the motorcycle tore down the old logging trail. the canopy of oak and pine closed in overhead, blocking out the harsh midday sun and swallowing the both of you in shifting, green-tinted shadows. every bump in the road was a deliberate torment. each time the bike hit a rut, your body was thrown hard against daryl’s back, your breasts flattening against his spine, your thighs tightening around his hips to keep your balance. under your palms, daryl’s stomach muscles were hard as iron, flexing and rippling with every micro-adjustment he made to the handlebars. he wasn't easing up on the throttle. he was riding fast, reckless, driven by a raw kinetic energy that felt less like traveling and more like running away from the edge of a cliff.
you leaned your cheek against his shoulder blade, inhaling deeply. the scent of the lye soap was fading, giving way to the heat of his skin, the familiar musk of stale tobacco, and the hot grease of the engine. he felt immovable beneath you, an unyielding wall of heat that seemed to vibrate in sync with the roaring machine between your legs.
after endless miles, the trees broke. daryl killed the engine, coasting the bike into the dense brush behind a collapsed barn. the sudden silence of the woods was deafening, save for the ticking of the cooling exhaust.
for a long moment, neither of you moved. you were still wrapped around him, your chest rising and falling against his back. daryl sat with his hands still gripping the handlebars, his knuckles white, his head bowed. his breathing was deep, his shoulders rising and falling in uneven cycles.
"get off," he muttered, his voice so thick and gravelly it sounded like it had been dragged through the dirt.
you let your arms drop, sliding off the back of the seat. the moment your boots hit the ground, your knees felt weak, the residual vibration of the bike still humming through your thighs, keeping the deep, throbbing ache between your legs intensely alive.
daryl swung his leg over the bike and stood up, refusing to look at you. he immediately reached for his crossbow, slinging it over his shoulder.
"pharmacy is just through that tree line," he said, his voice tight, his southern drawl cutting sharp through the quiet air. "we do this quick. we do it right. keep your eyes on the tree line while i get the bag. understand?"
"daryl," you said softly, stepping into his space.
"i said, keep watch," he snapped, finally spinning around to face you. his eyes were dark, bloodshot from lack of sleep. the fake composure he’d maintained in front of rick was gone, replaced by a raw, feral frustration. "don't start. not out here. i'm tryin' to keep us alive, and you're—" he choked on his own words, his gaze dropping involuntarily to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. "just do what i tell ya."
you stood your ground for a second, the heat radiating off him nearly enough to push you back, before you finally nodded and turned toward the thick wall of pines. you kept your eyes on the shadows of the tree line, your ears straining for the sound of snapping twigs or the wet, dragging footsteps of the dead. behind you, you heard the rough canvas of his duffel bag rustling, the thud of his boots against the dirt, and the frantic, shallow rhythm of his breathing. he was working too fast, his usual meticulous tracking discipline shot to hell by the sheer proximity of your body.
"alright," he grunted after a few minutes, the leather of his vest creaking as he stepped up behind you. "move out. stay on my heel."
he bypassed the main road entirely, cutting through a rusted section of chain-link fence behind the small-town pharmacy. the glass on the back door was intact but caked in decades of grime, looking dark and ominous. daryl didn't hesitate. he jammed the blade of his hunting knife into the old lock mechanism, giving it a fierce, sharp twist until the ancient brass gave way with a loud, echoing crack that made you both freeze.
he waited, counting the seconds in the dead silence, before pushing the door open and slipping inside.
the air inside the pharmacy was cool, smelling of damp paper, old dust, and stale plastic. it was a small independent clinic, the shelves half-ransacked but mostly intact. daryl moved with his usual lethal efficiency, clearing the two short aisles with his knife drawn, his boots making no sound on the linoleum. once he satisfied himself that the place was empty, he sheathed his knife and ripped the list from his pocket, his eyes scanning the crumpled paper with a fierce, almost frantic focus—anything to keep from looking at you.
"start on that side," he grunted, nodding toward the shelves labeled ailments & pain relief. "look for the amoxicillin. anything in a sealed bottle."
you nodded, stepping into the narrow aisle. the space was incredibly tight. when daryl moved past you to check the back counter, his broad shoulder brushed against yours, a sharp, deliberate friction that sent a spike of heat straight down your spine. you both froze for a fraction of a second, the air between you turning thick and heavy, before he ripped himself away, his boots scuffing hard against the floor.
you tried to focus on the bottles, your fingers trembling slightly as you moved them aside, but your eyes kept tracking him. he was tossing bottles into his duffel bag with too much force, his breathing shallow and loud in the quiet store.
then, you saw him stop dead in front of a small, rotating display right next to the pharmacy register.
through the dusty plastic dividers, the bold lettering of the condom boxes practically screamed in the dim light. daryl stared at them. his entire back went dead silent, his broad shoulders locking up. from behind, you watched the tips of his ears turn a deep, furious crimson.
he stood there for five agonizing seconds, his head bowed, fighting a war with himself. with a sudden, sharp jerk, he reached out, his thick, grease-stained fingers wrapping around a couple of boxes. he didn't look at the labels, didn't check the sizes—he just snatched them off the hooks and shoved them deep into the bottom of his duffel bag, throwing a handful of gauze rolls over them to bury them out of sight.
he let out a sharp, shallow breath, his jaw working as he spun around, finally catching you watching him. his dark eyes flared with a wild, cornered heat, his chest heaving under his vest.
"got what we need," he snapped, his voice dropping into a harsh, warning whisper that cut through the aisle. "let's go. now."
the short ride from the pharmacy to the abandoned house was a blur of raw nerves. by the time you reached the house, the woods had darkened into late evening gold.
daryl was a total mess on the bike. he took the turns too hard, his boots skimming the dirt as he navigated the final stretch of the old trail. his mind was spinning. the memory of what he had done in that dark hallway just twenty-four hours prior—the rough way he had gripped himself, the noises he’d made while panting into the dust—was flashing behind his eyelids in agonizing detail. his skin felt like it was on fire under his leather vest.
more than that, a deep, clawing anxiety was eating at his stomach. what if you hated the house? what if you thought he was crazy for dragging you out here? he was a tracker, a redneck drift-away who slept on dirt and lived off grease; he didn't know anything about romance or what a woman like you wanted. the thought that he might look foolish, or worse, that his clumsy attempt at giving you something nice would make you pull away, had his heart hammering against his ribs.
when the motorcycle finally idled down in the overgrown driveway of the secluded craftsman home, daryl killed the ignition and sat dead still. his hands were shaking so badly he had to keep them balled into fists against the handlebars.
"it's... it's up here," he muttered, his voice a low, strained rasp. he got off the bike, grabbing the duffel bag, keeping his eyes locked on the porch steps, his broad back rigid as he led the way inside.
the front door creaked open, and the preserved silence of the house swallowed you both. the air smelled of decay mixed with old cedar, candle smoke, and a faint hint of mildew. daryl walked down the narrow corridor, his eyes deliberately avoiding the dark hallway where he’d lost his mind the day before, though his neck flushed a deep, telltale red as he passed it. he pushed open the bedroom door and stepped aside, his breath catching in his throat as he waited for your reaction.
you stepped into the room, and the breath left your lungs. the setting sun filtered softly through the delicate, dusty lace curtains draped over the antler mount on the wall. dust motes danced in the shafts of light, disturbed by your movement. the deep mahogany of the bed and dresser set looked rich and dark in the dim light, the faded lace doilies and clusters of burnt candles giving the space a holy, untouched atmosphere. a few faded family photos sat on the mantle, turned face down. it was beautiful. it was safe.
you let out a soft, breathless sound of absolute wonder, walking over to the bed, your hand reaching out to trace the smooth, dark wood of the footboard before you sat down on the edge of the mattress. "it’s... it’s perfect. you found this for me?"
hearing the genuine sweetness in your voice, the sheer relief that washed over daryl was so physical his shoulders dropped. he let out a long, shuddering breath, his head shaking slightly as he tried to process that he hadn’t screwed it up, setting the duffel bag down with a thud.
"yeah," he muttered, his voice thick and rough. "thought... thought you'd like it."
to cover the overwhelming wave of vulnerability crashing over him, daryl immediately reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. his hands were still trembling slightly as he struck his plastic lighter, the small flame illuminating the sharp, nervous angles of his face. he took a deep, dragging pull, the blue smoke curling around his messy fringe as he leaned his hip against the heavy mahogany dresser.
before dropping the lighter, he kept the flame sparked. with a tense energy, he moved across the room, using that exact same lighter to bring the room to life. one by one, he touched the flame to the clusters of candles gathered on the dresser, watching the small wicks catch and cast a warm glow, candle wax dripping softly onto the old wood. then he stepped over to the nightstand, leaning down to light the remaining candles there. the small, golden flames flickered into existence, bathing the dark wood in warm light and illuminating the soft curve of your throat. he blew out a stream of smoke, his dark eyes locking onto yours through the haze as he finally snapped the lighter shut and set it down.
as you sat on the edge of the mattress, your eyes drifted to the dresser drawers. poking out from the top seam of the dark wood was a sliver of white fabric. curiosity pulling at you, you stood up and walked over, sliding the drawer open. an old perfume smell, trapped in the drawer for years, wafted out as your fingers pulled out a vintage, white lace nightgown. it was delicate, completely sheer, and beautifully preserved.
you looked up at him, a sudden spark of courage cutting through your nerves. "i'm going to wash up," you murmured, holding the lace against your chest. "and put this on."
daryl choked on his smoke, coughing as his eyes locked onto the fabric in your hands, his face turning an instant, burning crimson again. he couldn't even form a coherent word, merely nodding as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.
he cleared his throat, looking away. "i’m gon’ clear the rest of the house."
in the small, adjoining bathroom, you used a clean rag and a basin of water to wash the grime of the road from your skin. you could tell daryl had already done the exact same thing before he brought you here. slipping the nightgown over your head, the sheer material fell softly against your skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
the room went humid with tension. you stood in front of the large mirror attached to the mahogany dresser, the candles daryl had just lit casting a warm, golden glow across your skin and illuminating your reflection. the sheer fabric showed every curve of your body, the tight, dark peaks of your nipples clearly visible beneath the lace.
a floorboard creaked behind you. daryl had approached silently, but the sight of you in the mirror made him stop dead. his chest rose and fell in deep, uneven cycles.
he didn't have his cigarette in his mouth anymore; he had set it smoldering on a porcelain dish to keep his face completely free for you. slowly, he closed the distance until he was towering right behind you, his heat enveloping your bare shoulders. he looked at your reflection, his dark eyes wide and consumed. he reached up, his rough hands coming down to rest on your waist. his thumbs dragged against your hip bones, his fingers trembling under the weight of his own conscience. his skin still smelled faintly of gasoline and grease, even after washing.
"ain't right..." he trailed off, his voice dropping into a register so low and gravelly it vibrated straight through your skin. he stared at your reflection, his jaw tight. "wantin ya. shouldn't be thinkin' 'bout you like this."
you turned your head slightly, looking back at him through the glass, a sudden, fierce certainty anchoring your voice. "why? i know what i want."
daryl let out a sharp, ragged hitch of a breath. his large hands instantly gripped tighter on your hips, pulling your lower body back against his denim-clad thighs with possessive suddenness.
"and what i want is you," you added softly, your eyes locked onto his in the mirror.
his grip remained solid, anchoring you to his chest, but the finality of your words seemed to throw him completely off-balance. his breathing was shallow and hot against your neck as he leaned down, his forehead dropping against your bare shoulder blade for a split second.
his jaw flexed, his eyes darting away before he rasped out, "gon’ be clumsy."
his bare lips finally found your skin, beginning to pepper slow, sharp kisses along your jawline.
"it’s okay," you whimpered back, your eyes closing as his lips pressed into your neck.
hearing your shaky, nervous confirmation seemed to snap the last thread of his restraint. daryl let out a low, defeated growl, reaching for his clothes with a frustrated, impatient urgency. first, he yanked his leather vest down with a rough jerk, shrugging it off his shoulders and tossing it to the floorboards. next, he grabbed the hem of his sleeveless shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift, sharp motion, his messy fringe catching briefly on the collar before falling wildly into his eyes. the shifting candlelight caught the pale, heavily scarred skin of his back and the corded muscle of his torso. he was completely shirtless, his chest heaving, but he still had his heavy denim pants and boots on.
he turned you around, his grip moving from your hips to your waist, and effortlessly lifted you onto the high mattress. the old wood groaned and the bedframe tapped softly against the wall under his weight as he climbed up after you, his movements driven by a frantic desperation to touch you everywhere at once.
shifting his weight, daryl pressed his clothed knee right up against your core, the rugged denim of his jeans creating a blunt, grounding pressure against your panties through the sheer fabric of the nightgown. the solid weight of his knee anchored you to the mattress, and he immediately leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his mouth was wet and completely uncoordinated as he began to leave frantic kisses along your collarbone and up to your jawline, his rough chin scratching your soft skin. at the same time, his thick, grease-stained hands came up to your chest. his thumbs began to lightly circle your nipples over the thin white lace of the nightgown, the friction making the peaks harden instantly beneath his palms.
the pressure of his denim-clad knee against your core was overwhelming. instinctively, your hips tilted upward, and you began grinding against his leg, seeking relief from the agonizing ache building between your thighs.
the moment your body began grinding against his leg, it absolutely killed him. daryl let out a sharp, broken groan, his whole body locked, hips jerking involuntarily. he stopped dead, burying his face hard in your shoulder as he fiercely fought his own anatomy. he was breathing like he’d been hunted, his chest heaving against yours.
he paused, he went rigid for a second. a sudden look of severe self-consciousness flashed across his face, his eyes searching yours with a raw, panicked vulnerability. he misread your breathlessness, assuming he had overstepped or hurt you.
"i... i'm sorry," he choked out, his voice a ruined scrape into your skin as he started to pull back. "pushed too hard. i didn't mean to—"
"daryl, no," you interrupted, reaching up to clasp his face, pulling him back down. "you didn't. don't stop."
relief washed over his features, though his jaw remained tight. "damn it," he gasped, his forehead resting against yours for a brief second. "hold up... just hold up. i ain't..."
knowing he was right on the brink and wanting to make it good for you first, daryl forced himself to shift down. he lowered himself down the mattress, his hands sliding down your thighs to gently pull the sheer lace nightgown up, bunching the white fabric around your waist. he leaned down, pressing a string of kisses down the center of your tummy, his breathing hot and shallow against your skin.
he moved lower until his lips reached the damp cotton of your panties. resting his jaw heavily against your inner thigh, he paused, his dark eyes looking up at you through his messy fringe, wide and completely intense in the candlelight.
"gotta tell me if it's right," he rasped, his voice dropping into a low, rough growl that shook with raw nerves. "if it hurts. any of it. don't go hidin' it from me."
you nodded breathlessly, your fingers clutching the old quilt beneath you.
daryl didn't waste another second. he hooked his thick fingers into the elastic of your panties, sliding them down your legs and tossing them onto the floorboards before parting your knees wide. he slid down between your thighs, his denim pants frictioning against your skin while his boots remained securely on, dangling off the foot of the bed. he buried his face directly between your legs.
"you’re soppin’," he growled, the unfiltered observation slipping out of him before he ate you out with a fierce hunger. his tongue lapped at you with a messy desperation before finding a steady, relentless rhythm against your sweet spot. his hands dug hard into your hips, anchoring your lower body to his mouth as he worked.
he didn't rush it.
"good?" he choked out, the word muffled and breathless against your clit.
"so good," you cried out, your hands shooting directly into his messy hair, holding him close.
he stayed down there for minutes on end, entirely focused on the way your body responded to him. he listened to the gradual shift in your breathing, waiting out the slow, steady build of heat and moisture as your body climbed. he tracked every tiny twitch of your thighs, keeping a constant, wet pressure on your core until the tension in your hips became completely coiled. he didn't stop until your breath caught in a high, sobbing gasp and your body began to shake, your core throwing off a wave of intense heat as you finally broke, finishing completely against his mouth.
daryl drank in your high, shattering release, his jaw slick with you as he finally slid back up your body. his chest was heaving, his dark eyes completely pitch-black as he hovered over your trembling form.
his hands were shaking so badly he could barely control them. he leaned over the edge of the high mattress, practically diving into the canvas duffel bag resting on the floor. his large hands frantically fumbled through the supply of medical gear, knocking pill bottles and gauze rolls aside as he desperately rummaged through the dark bottom of the bag to find the boxes of condoms he had snatched from the pharmacy. he pulled one out, squinting hard at the tiny lettering on the box in the dim, flickering candlelight, his brow furrowing with a severe, almost comical intensity as he tried to figure out what the hell it said.
watching his fiercely focused expression over something so domestic, a soft, involuntary giggle bubbled up from your chest, breaking the heavy tension in the room.
daryl’s head snapped up. a deep flush bloomed across his cheeks and rushed down his neck. a rare, genuinely light smile tugged at the corner of his lips, softening the hard, gritty lines of his face in a way you'd almost never seen.
"quit," he muttered, his voice a quiet, embarrassed huff as he shook his head and looked your way, tossing the box aside into the blanket to grab a loose wrapper instead.
still kneeling over you with his boots dangling off the mattress, he reached down to his waist. he didn't take his jeans off entirely—he just popped the metal button, his belt buckle catching briefly on the quilt with a dull metallic clink as he violently jerked the heavy denim and his underwear down past his hips, keeping them bunched around his upper thighs so he wouldn't have to deal with kicking his heavy boots off. he tore open the foil wrapper with his teeth, his jaw tight and a lingering, fond warmth creeping up his neck as he fumbled to unroll the protection over his length, his breath hitching in a harsh rattle of pure concentration.
when he settled back between your legs, the weight of his heat pressing against your core, he paused one last time.
"get your legs 'round me," he commanded softly, the gravel in his voice dropping into a deep, possessive register. "hold on."
you instinctively brought your knees up, wrapping your thighs tightly around his thick waist. he let out a broken, tortured sound at the contact, his forehead dropping against your neck as he slowly, deliberately pushed himself inside you.
as he drove in deep, his large, heavy palm flattened right back over your lower tummy. he pushed down firmly against your stomach, anchoring your hips to the high mattress with a dominant pressure that forced you to feel the absolute fullness of him inside you. the hard, grounding weight of his hand against your abdomen sent an electric spike of pleasure straight to your core, making you gasp loudly against his shoulder.
the sudden, stretching fullness made your body stiffen under his weight. he forced himself into slower strokes for a minute, jaw tight with concentration, his frame tightened like iron, his hand still pressing firmly against your tummy. "hurt ya?" he choked out.
"no, no," you breathed, your hips making a small, upward adjustment against his palm to welcome him deeper. "don't stop. just stay still for a second."
he listened, suppressing every primal instinct inside him just to give your body time to adjust. only when you began to move against him in a slow, inviting rhythm, did he allow his hips to shift, beginning a deep, agonizingly deliberate pace, his palm keeping a steady pressure on your stomach with every stroke.
the friction built to a shattering crescendo. "fuck... please," you sobbed out, your head rolling back against the pillow as the wave of your release began to crest.
suddenly, a sharp, distinct *creak* echoed from the floorboards directly down the narrow corridor outside the bedroom. it wasn't an aimless scrape. it was a heavy shifting of weight inside the house.
daryl froze instantly, buried deep inside you. the weight of his body turned to solid stone, his chest completely still as he held his breath.
his head snapped toward the open bedroom door. before a panicked gasp could escape your wet lips, his large, rough palm collapsed firmly over your mouth, sealing it completely.
his other arm wrapped like a steel band around your waist, pinning your lower body flush against his hard hips, anchoring you so deeply beneath him that you couldn't move an inch.
"shut up," he breathed against the crown of your head.
the dynamic was instant, unexpected, and entirely intoxicating. the sheer force of his hand pressing you flat into the mattress while he remained buried inside you sent an electric shock straight to your system. blind panic and scorching arousal fused together.
desperate for an anchor, your hand flew upward, your fingers raking blindly against the dark mahogany headboard. your hand vanished against the wood, your fingers clamping tightly around a heavy wooden rosary that had been wrapped around one of the bedposts. you pulled on it with a wild, trembling force.
the old twine snapped.
the silence shattered as dozens of wooden beads spilled free, bouncing and rattling across the hardwood floorboards like a handful of gravel.
daryl’s eyes flared with a wild, dangerous heat. his grip on your mouth tightened, his jaw stone-rigid as he stared out into the pitch-black hallway, his ears straining so hard for any reaction to the noise that the veins on his neck were bulging. he held his lower body completely still inside yours, ensuring the old mattress springs didn't make a single peep.
beneath his heavy palm, your breath hitched sharply. the absolute vulnerability of the moment made your pulse race. your lips parted slightly against the calloused meat of his hand, tasting the faint salt of his skin, your hips hitching up involuntarily against his frozen length in a desperate, silent plea for him to move faster.
he felt the tight, twitching squeeze of your body around him. his eyes cracked down to yours, catching the wide, eager dark of your pupils. a sudden heat flared in his own chest. he didn't pull out; instead, he subtly leaned his hips harder into yours, a silent warning to stay still that only made the ache between your legs flare hotter.
another long silence stretched through the house.
a small, frantic scratching sound echoed from the kitchen down the hall, followed by the tiny thud of a raccoon dropping from a broken window pane.
a long, slow, chest-heaving breath finally escaped his lungs. the rigid, lethal tension in his shoulders eased. slowly, tentatively, his fingers slid away from your mouth. his rough thumb lingered on your lower lip, dragging across the wetness left by your breath, pressing down just hard enough to make you whimper in the quiet room.
his jaw flexed as he looked down at you, the dark heat in his eyes tightening. "told ya to stay quiet."
"no," you gasped out, your voice trembling as you arched up against his leg. "i need it. daryl, please."
his jaw flexed hard. “damn right,” he growled, the praise low, rough, and thick with his heavy accent.
he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his movements becoming rough, hurried, and fueled by a desperation he could no longer contain. he drove into you with a fierce, frantic urgency, his heavy denim bunched around his thighs as he anchored himself to you, his large hand pressing down hard against your tummy to drive himself as deep as possible. he hit your sweet spot again and again, his strokes heavy and relentless until you sobbed aloud against his neck, your body scrambling as the release finally broke over you. seeing the complete surrender in your eyes, he let out a broken, ruined sound as he came, the intense release racking his shoulders, his hips stuttering forward against yours as he spilled himself completely into the protection, holding you so tight against his chest you could barely draw a breath.
the silence of the room returned slowly, filled only by the frantic, synchronized rhythm of your heavy breathing and the quiet ticking of the candles on the nightstand. he didn't roll away immediately. he lay buried in your shoulder, his heart thumping hard against your ribs, his large hands still securely locked around your waist.
after a long, quiet moment, he carefully withdrew and disposed of the protection, finally working his clothes back up over his hips and buttoning them. before settling back down, he stood up on trembling legs, walking quietly to the window to peer through a slit in the lace curtains, scanning the overgrown yard one more time to ensure your safety.
satisfied, he returned to the bed and slid onto his side on the mattress, keeping you pulled securely against his chest. he reached down, pulling the dusty, faded quilt up over both of your flushed bodies, shielding you from the cooling air of the room, and reached out to adjust the pillow beneath your head.
his fingers gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his dark eyes, soft now, finally clear of the anxiety that had tortured him all day, searched yours in the fading candlelight. he shifted closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his rough, unshaven chin scraping lightly against your skin as he let his whole weight settle into your side. his thumb moved slow against your hip beneath the blanket while the old mattress creaked softly beneath the both of you. outside, the world still groaned and clawed at the fences, but in that small room, with his heartbeat steady against your chest, daryl was at peace.
non-apocalyptic world where everything's alright and there's no nasty walkers around. where daryl lives in a little creaky cabin with his younger, sweetheart girlfriend in the middle of nowhere ngghhh.
you wake up before him almost every morning, and quietly pull one of his button-downs over your tiny pink sleep shorts before padding barefoot across the creaky floorboards to make coffee. and then he'll slowly wake up after you and go smoke a cigarette beside you through the cracked kitchen window. and its always cold in that damp woodsy way, so he'll grab a blanket or a big jacket and wrap it around you as the morning fog rolls in.
the age difference is obvious in the strangest little ways. you're always leaving old magazines and sweet lip balms all over the cabin while he leaves hunting knives on counters and muddy boots by the door. and there's always animals wandering by, like possums and deer!
and you're constantly horny, always feining over daryl in some way. you're in a tiny lace camisole while he's gutting fish, and you're just watching, rubbing your thighs at his focused expression. or maybe when he's shaving in the bathroom and you're sitting on the tiny countertop swinging your legs back and forth, tugging him closer once he's finished.
sometimes you'll be in the woods, probably barefoot, wandering with daryl and you get extremely needy out of nowhere. and he just eyes you before pushing you up against a tree and shoving your cami up above your tits and attaching his mouth to one while you wrap your legs around his waist with soft moans, only the birds and bugs able to hear.
