crusty in a hot way

I'm like a divorced middle aged dad but in the body of a woman in her 20s xoxo I need ✨ sedating ✨

[hicktrashspit]

Howdy y'all! Ao3 Daryl Dixon They Were all in Love with Dying - ch1 ch2 ch3 Merle Dixon Made for each other - ch1 ch2

A Game of Wolf and Rabbit - ch1 ch2 Requests are open! I mainly write for the Dixon brothers but I'm open to other characters if you think they'd fit my writing. Been replaying some red dead this past month and have been cooking up some ideas so stay tuned if that's also ya thing. 🌲🐻🪵🦬 🎣

[hicktrashspit]

Babe you're very quiet is everything okay?

Hi friend, sorry for the lack of updates, gonna use this ask as a lil quick update.

Yes I’m all good! I’m not dead!

Honestly I’m a little guilty to say that I’ve just been very busy socially lately, summer is always a busy time for me. Been on trips away with friends, done a lot fishing, drinking in the sun and all that other good stuff. I’m on a weekend beach trip right now but after that I’ve got a couple weeks where things are a bit more slow so I’ll be more active here and on Ao3.

Chapter 19 of they were all in love with dying will be out very soon and I’ll get back to working on the tumblr requests I’ve got on the backlog.

Thank you for checking in anon, that’s very sweet, and thank you for everyone else for being so patient, hope y’all are having a great summer too <3 Those damn Dixon boys will forever be on my mind!

[hicktrashspit]

They Were all in Love with Dying, They Were Doing it in Georgia - Daryl Dixon / reader Chapter 4

Originally posted on Ao3 Chapter 3 here

Summary: Merle Dixon was, is and always would be a cruel man. He was like a disease, a dark decaying stain that would rot anything it came into contact with. Anyone who stuck around long enough would end up being dragged down to Merle’s sodden level, until whatever good they had left in them was entirely snuffed out.

Daryl knew this. He’d seen it his entire life. Just like he'd seen it happen to you.

How long could Daryl just sit by and watch Merle destroy another life?

-Set before The Walking Dead series from Daryl's POV-

Tags / CW: 18+, noncon, referenced / implied noncon, domestic abuse, domestic violence, physical and emotional abuse, voyeurism, accidental voyeurism, masturbation, referenced childhood abuse, toxic relationships, unhealthy power imbalance, misogyny, eventual smut, angst, hurt / comfort, hurt / no comfort, young Daryl Dixon, slow burn, Merle is a waning himself

AN: I wish I could explain how much this damn site confuses the hell out of me. Anyway, here is chapter 4, just a note to say that from this point on the narrative will get progressively darker. Daryl gets thrown deep into torment and self loathing. For those caught up on ao3, chapter 19 should be ready start of next week. Enjoy! Chapter 3 - Healing Hands

It wasn’t until nearly two months of you living there that the reality of his feelings struck him like a ton of bricks.

Daryl was sick, really fucking sick. 

The thick cut slices of bacon he’d fried up that morning had seemed… past their best, to put it lightly. You weren't awake by the time he was up and craving breakfast, otherwise he was pretty sure you would have swooped in and stopped him, scolding him for even attempting to eat the slimy meat. 

But nah, waste not want not he’d thought and lord knows he was paying for it now. 

He was lay in bed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his pale and clammy skin, breath coming out uneven and shallow before the nausea hit him in a sickening wave.  He’d barely made it to the bathroom before he was hunched over the toilet, emptying his guts in violent shuddering heaves. 

He stayed like that for fuck knows how long, clutching the bowl, gasping and whimpering as he spilled out the contents of his stomach until he was left spitting nothing but bile. 

A knock on the bathroom door had him flinching, his ears ringing as he turned back to slur out “Fuck off, Merle, ‘m busy.”

“Daryl?” your voice cut through the thick fog in his brain “You ok?” 

Shit. He didn’t even want Merle to see him like this, let alone you.

“Go away…. ‘M fine. ' he groaned, burying his face against the toilet seat. 

“You sure as hell don’t sound fine,” concern was evident in your voice “what’s going on?”

He tried to respond before a fresh wave of nausea hit him and he dry heaved, coughing and sputtering more bile into the toilet. 

“Ok that’s it, I’m coming in.” Before he could object, he heard the doorknob twisting as you let yourself in. Daryl shut his eyes, trying to block out your presence and pretend you weren’t real as you pushed the door shut behind you. 

“Jesus, Daryl,” you breathed “what the hell happened?” 

He whimpered as his stomach clenched painfully and he fought the urge to gag again. “I uh– I ate - I ate–” he stuttered as realization dawned on you. 

“Fuck! You didn’t eat the bacon, did you?” Exasperated, you slapped a hand to your forehead. “Idiot! I was saving that shit for bait!” He could only groan in response, letting out another shuddering breath. 

“Oh, Daryl.” You knelt by his side and all of a sudden you felt way too close, your voice tortuously soft as claustrophobia overwhelmed him.  “Let me get you cleaned up, take care of you, yeah?”

He wanted to protest, his eyes still screwed shut as he shook his head back and forth, flinching when you rested a gentle hand on his damp burning shoulder. 

“Don’t need no damn help, ‘m fine-” but his breath hitched, words dying in his throat as you started rubbing slow soothing circles into the hard muscle of his skin. Daryl sighed, the tension starting to leave his body. Your touch felt… nice. Real nice.

“Come on,” you murmured, “let’s get you to bed. Can you stand?” 

With some difficulty you were able to help him to his feet, his long broad arm draped over your shoulder as you led him to his room.  You staggered most of the way, trying to maintain your balance as he leaned most of his weight on you while you manoeuvred him through the cramped hallway. 

You sighed in relief as you finally reached his cluttered messy room, depositing him on his bed with a strained grunt.  Daryl writhed on his mattress, long limbs tangling in the mess of scratchy blankets and skinned fur pelts littering his sheets.  He was hot. Way too hot. Getting comfortable felt impossible. 

He felt your hand rest on his forehead briefly as you checked his temperature, the contrast of your colder body temperature on his burning hot skin soothed him greatly. 

“I’m gonna get some water. I’ll be back soon just stay put.” He merely grunted in response, suppressing a whine as he already missed the absence of your touch.

He tried to stay still as he focused on his breathing, willing away the frequent bursts of nausea while he waited for your return, heart hammering in his chest and pulse pounding in his ears. He was burning up, bad.

The sound of your sweet humming announced your arrival as you set down a tub of warm soapy water on the bed next to him, disappearing briefly before reappearing with a cold glass of water. 

“Here,” you handed him the glass, your other arm helping to prop him up against his headboard, “Drink this.”

He took the glass from you with trembling fingers, immediately bringing it to his lips as he started to take long needy gulps, groaning with relief, throat raw from his excessive puking.   Your hands shot up, curling round his own as you guided him “Easy, slowly slowly..” he slowed down, taking tentative sips “Small sips, Daryl, you don’t want this coming back up”.

As he sipped from his glass, you brought the tub of water toward you and into your lap, dipping in a soft rag which you lifted up towards Daryl’s face.  Soft tender fingers glided up to his cheek, your eyes catching his as you silently searched for any sign of resistance, any sign of discomfort.  When you sensed he was ok with you touching him like this, your other hand began gently dragging the wet cloth over his forehead, wiping his sweat away. 

Daryl had set the now empty glass down, his eyes closing as he leaned his head back against the wall with a deep content sigh.  He had to force himself not to nuzzle into the palm cradling his face, kissing up your palm and wrist, hands wrapping around your curvy soft waist as he pulled you into his lap and- 

“This ok?” Your voice jerked him out of his wandering feverish thoughts.  His only response was a small nod as he instead tried to refocus his attention on the feeling of the slow drag of the washcloth over his brow, calm and soothing. 

You continued to wash him, cloth gliding down to his neck, over his shoulders and all the way down his arms to his fingertips. 

You were talking to him as you cleaned him, idle chatter about home remedies he could try to make himself feel better, what he could and could not eat, what liquids he should avoid - yes he wasn’t to have any booze for at least 24 hours.  You even mentioned cycling to the store yourself to buy saltine crackers for him, but he was barely able to focus on your words, the soft scrubbing on his skin far too hypnotic.  Your words blurred into one pleasant symphony and his brain felt like hot oatmeal as he blindly nodded along like a fool.  

He was only brought out of his stupor by you saying his name. 

“Hmmm?” He hummed lazily, eyes still closed in bliss. 

“I said ‘can you take off your shirt’ please?” 

You may as well have dumped the whole damn tub of water on him by the way he reacted as he instantly stiffened up, pulse quickening at your words. 

He swallowed hard, head dipping down and away from you as he refused to answer.  He really didn’t wanna open that can of worms right now. 

But you persisted, seemingly unaware of the turmoil running freely through his brain.  Maybe you thought he was just a little self conscious or something, hell he gave off that impression compared to Merle’s cocky brazen demeanor, so you pushed on carefully. 

“It’s alright, I ain’t gonna judge” your tone was lighthearted, coaxing almost - like the way you’d talk to a cornered animal “You’ve soaked right through your shirt, honey, I’ve gotta clean you up.” 

The pet name alone had heat rushing up the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning pink, yet still he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip.  You were being so nice, he didn’t wanna ruin it. Have you look at him with pity or judgement or, worse, disgust.

But you were still by his side watching him, waiting patiently for some kind of response, not rushing him, just waiting, wanting to help, to understand.  You were always so patient with him.

He sucked in a sharp breath before he quickly yanked his damp shirt off in one quick motion - like ripping a bandaid off before he could second guess himself. 

His shoulders curled in on themselves out of pure instinct as he averted his gaze.  He couldn’t bear to face your expression as your eyes flickered over the marred skin on his back. He felt you physically pause, breathing in sharply and he braced himself for the revulsion that was sure to come. 

Your hesitation was only brief before you were back to dragging the washcloth over his skin, rubbing gentler when you felt him flinch as you resumed your passive chatter. 

You weren’t disgusted. You weren’t pitying. You weren’t acting all superior or high and mighty. In fact you weren’t treating him any different than you had been five minutes ago.  You weren’t acting like he was some kind of damaged headcase. It was still the same. You were still the same.

With some difficulty, Daryl tried to allow himself to relax again, telling himself that you didn’t see him any different now, that he was more than the echoes of his daddy’s temper.  It was ok. He was ok. Nothing had changed. You didn’t hate him. He repeated those thoughts like a mantra as he focused again on the remedying motions of the cloth on his skin, on your serene voice complimenting the tattoo on his back, on the hand that rested on his thigh, thumb rubbing reassuring circles on denim.

Daryl felt like he was high, completely blissed out by your touch. 

He ain’t ever had someone touch him with such care before and it was driving him insane.  It was intoxicating, addictive.  He felt like he couldn't get enough and he selfishly hoped you’d never stop.

Once you were finished with his back, your hand slid round to his chest, dragging the cloth over his pectoral muscles. 

He let his head fall back, biting his lip hard to stifle the groan caught in his throat, sucking in a harsh breath as you skimmed the cloth over one of his nipples. “Sorry” you chuckled quietly, a little guilty, but still you didn’t stop the stroking soothing motions on his chest. 

Daryl was damn near panting now, heavy breaths heaving in and out through his nose like a bull. 

It was all too much, the cloth gliding down his front, shifting lower and lower, your other arm wrapped around his back, hand kneading his shoulder, soft and encouraging, and your voice - your fucking voice - kind and comforting and right in his fucking ear as you talked to him about what kinda soups you could make him once he got his appetite back. 

It was when he shifted his hips that he realized how goddamn hard he was, throbbing and painful in his pants. 

An intense dizzying rush of shame and arousal hit him all at once and he felt lightheaded, on the verge of passing out.  You were by his side caring for him, trying to make him feel better and he was on the verge of cumming in his pants like some kind of schoolboy perv. 

It was pathetic. 

Yet he couldn’t help the heady lust he felt as your hand shifted lower and lower, rubbing the cloth in firm circular motions on his lower abdomen, right above his crotch.  A low whine slipped from his mouth, his hand grabbing at your wrist hard as he tried to stop his hips from stuttering upward, desperately seeking some kind of friction. 

“What’s wrong?” your voice was so sweet, so attentive, so concerned. 

Daryl wasn’t sure he'd ever had someone treat him like this, with such care and such tenderness, and he could feel tears welling up on his waterline, slipping from the corner of his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.  The cloying overpowering mix of his fever, arousal and shame completely overwhelmed him as he choked back a sob. 

Delicate pacifying hands reached up to cup his face, thumbs stroking away the streaks of tears that had fallen.  His eyelids fluttered open and met your big, worried eyes as you searched his face.  “Daryl, what’s wrong?” you repeated. 

He let out a shuddering sigh and finally found his voice, wanting to tell you what he  so badly needed. “I-I can’t… ’s - too much - too much, it hurts” he barely recognised his own voice, broken, needy and desperate, he felt humiliated. “Please - please, I want - I need - ”

He didn’t even know what he was begging for, he was out of his goddamn mind. He just needed you there, to tend to him, to make the ache go away.

Your eyes lingered on his, trying to make sense of what he meant before your attention shifted to the cloth lay on his abdomen, where you’d been rubbing soft circles mere moments ago. Your eyes went wide.

“Oh shit, Daryl, ’m sorry your stomach’s gotta be sore, right?” Slightly panicked and guilt-stricken you swiftly removed your hands from his face “I was pressin’ too rough, ’m sorry.”

Oh. You’d misunderstood him. 

All he could do was watch through a foggy haze as you quickly collected yourself off his bed. “Let me go see if Merle’s got some tylenol or something. I’ll be right back.” and just like that you were out of his room in an instant, leaving him stewing in a heavy silence combined with the painful physical feeling of something similar to a knife twisting in his gut. 

Right. Merle.  The sole fucking reason you were even there in the first place. 

Daryl was disgusted at himself. 

He knew Merle. Knew what he would do if he found you even sat in Daryl’s room, let alone caring for him, touching him, holding him.  His brother’s ego was way too fragile to be ok with that kinda shit.  Daryl knew this but let you do it anyway, even got fucking HARD over it. 

Selfish, selfish stupid asshole. 

He threw an arm over his eyes and let out a long frustrated hiss.  A storm of self loathing was clouding his thoughts as he stewed in his own stupidity, desperately willing his boner away.

His attention was drawn to your soft footsteps as you padded back into the room. He listened to the quiet sound of you setting a fresh glass of water and a half empty bottle of pills on his side table as you settled next to him on the mattress again, not too far from where his head lay. 

“I’m sorry… if i hurt you or made you feel worse.” You muttered after a long pause. “I wasn’t really thinking, just wanted to help, y’know?”  He didn’t say anything so you sighed, shaking your head.

“Used to like taking care of my siblings when we were all little. Guess I found something comforting in that…” You trailed off, lost in thought and Daryl couldn’t help but wonder what had happened for someone like you to end up completely alone, content to mother a pair of filthy rednecks. 

You openly accepted all the shit Merle put you through, taking it on the chin like you ain’t worth more and apologising daily for simply trying to help. For simply existing.

Daryl wanted to ask about your past, about who you were before Merle came crashing into your life and ruined any chance you had to be something good.  But he couldn’t manage it, his shame overwhelming him once again as he could still feel his arousal hard and heavy between his legs.

“I got carried away though, I often do.” You continued  “Merle’s the same… doesn’t like when I get too… too girly, I guess, that’s what he calls it. Says I get too fussy and worried about things. That I should let it be.” You stayed still, wallowing in his silence and hoping for a response that would never come. 

You nodded your head with a tired defeated smile.

“Alright… take two of these every four hours.” You smoothed your hands over your legs and stood up, quick and fleeting. “If you need anything just give me a holler.” 

It was when he felt you move to leave that Daryl, against his better judgment, reached out with the arm not covering his face, fingers enclosing around your wrist and halting your movements. 

There was a heavy pause before he spoke, inner conflict gnawing at him.

“Stay?” He cleared his throat as his voice broke around the word “Jus’ for a while. Please.” 

He moved the arm blocking his vision but couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye.  His eyes darted about his shitty room, on anything but you, as he felt you settle back down on the bed beside him. The relief shared between the both of you was tangible.

You wrapped your arm around his shoulders as your other hand traced your nails up and down his arm affectionately - touch feather light and barely there - but it had Daryl shuddering all the same. 

You pulled him close against you so his temple rested flush against your shoulder and Daryl closed his eyes as he sighed with a bone-deep contentment.

It was selfish, so fucking selfish.  He was a selfish asshole creep putting you in this position, making you touch him like this while he was hard as a fucking rock and, above all else, it was pathetic.  He hated how whiny, how vulnerable you made him. He felt weak. You made him act in ways he’d never seen in himself before and, if he was honest with himself, it terrified him. 

But, fuck, he was in too deep.  He needed this. He needed your care, your touch. He needed you. 

Just this one moment, he told himself, just until he was better, until this memory was enough and he could push down what he had been denying this whole time, been denying since the day Merle first lured you into his pickup truck.  He was sure this softness, this tenderness, would last him a lifetime. Just this one moment, and nothing else needed to matter.

He lifted a shaking hand up to the healing hand stroking down his arm, fingers lacing with yours, clinging to you like you were a lifeline.

You began humming, gently rocking him back and forth, hand never leaving his as you patiently waited for sleep to envelop him in a warm comforting embrace. 

-

Daryl woke to find the sun had already set and you were long gone. 

His bed suddenly felt incredibly cold and empty with the absence of you, but hey, at least he no longer had the urge to puke.

He ran a clammy hand over his face while his other arm blindly reached out to grab the glass of water you’d left on his rickety nightstand, chugging down the remnants.  He was trying to cement himself in reality, brain still foggy from his feverish sleep, when he’d heard it. 

A bump against the wall followed by a muffled shout. 

Daryl paused, listening out as his ears strained to make sense of what he was hearing.  More yelling ensued; angry, gruff and mean. Merle.

He couldn’t work out what the hell he was saying but Merle sounded pissed. Really pissed.

He flinched when a loud thump thump thump sound accompanied more harsh hollering.  Daryl recognized the noise as Merle punching his wall. Always in bursts of three and in the same damn spot. 

A cold chill settled on the back of his neck as he prayed Merle was in there on his own, ranting and raving to himself like he often did after he tweaked out on some bad shit he’d picked up for cheap. 

He was about to slam on his wall and tell Merle to shut the fuck up when he had heard you. 

Much quieter than Merle’s voice, you sounded panicked, hushing and trying to placate him. You were talking quickly, tone pleading as you attempted to calm him down.  But Merle's shouts only grew in violent rage, escalating in volume until a sharp SMACK shattered the air like a gunshot and everything went quiet. 

Daryl lay there in silence, staring at the dark ceiling above him, his heart beating fast. 

He prayed his dark ugly suspicions weren’t true, that he’d misheard or something as his mind blindly scrambled to come up with other explanations.  Maybe Merle had just broken another glass, angrily throwing it against the wall and that’s what had shut you up so quick. Nothing else.  Hell, he hoped Merle had slapped himself out of frustration or, fuck, that YOU had slapped him - lord knows that son of a bitch deserved it.

But he knew he was kidding himself. He knew what that sound was. He knew what he’d heard.

Merle had hit you. Merle. Had. Hit. You.  He was hurting you and who knows for how long he’d been doing it for. 

His thoughts buzzed round his head like he’d kicked a hornet’s nest for what felt like hours until he heard another sound - one he was all too familiar with. 

The sickening lilt of Merle’s gruff voice sweet talking you and the rhythmic squeaking of bed springs had bile rushing into Daryl's mouth. 

He turned onto his side, away from the wall he shared with Merle and bit down hard on the skin of his thumbnail. Not now, please not now. Not after today, not after everything he had just heard.

The first whimper you let out had Daryl’s cock jumping in his pants. 

Deep waves of shame flooded over him as he squeezed a hand over his crotch, willing himself to not be affected.  But it was too late, the soft dulcet tones of your exhilarating moans had him hard in a matter of seconds.  He bit his lip, rocking into the palm of his hand, the ghost of your touch from earlier that day making him more sensitive than usual. 

He tried to think of anything else to calm himself down, but your sweet syrupy voice and the memories of your hands on his skin made it impossible. He bucked into his hand, pressing hard against it as he let out a loud keening moan, grinding against his sweaty palm as he added more of that delicious pressure he so badly needed. 

He wouldn’t last long. 

He blocked out the sounds of Merle’s obscene grunts and zeroed in on the sounds of you. 

He imagined it was him on top of you, fucking into you as you clutched onto his back, your hot panting breath tickling against his ear like it had been today. 

You’d run your hands over his rippling shoulder-blades, not turned-off or disgusted by the scars littering his back, your delicate fingers tracing loving patterns over them. Healing them, soothing them, giving them new meaning. 

He’d fuck you however you wanted. 

He wouldn’t be selfish and aggressive like Merle, just using you to chase his own climax, just taking and not giving.  He’d be gentle, like you were gentle with him, he’d give you the pleasure you deserved. Would do anything you wanted. Make you feel good like you did for him.

God, he’d worship you. 

Give you everything you needed while you cried out for him and you’d reward him, oh, you’d reward him. 

You’d tell him how good he is, how good he makes you feel, praising his efforts as you pushed him down to his knees, pulling his waiting needy mouth against your sweet sugary core, dripping like honey.  Your hands would tangle in his hair as you ground against his suckling desperate mouth, guiding him patiently as you called him a good boy, tell him what a great job he was doing as he rutted his weeping cock against the smooth soft skin of your shin and -

Daryl let out a strangled curse as he came, biting down hard on his fist as long hot ropes of sticky cum flooded the inside of his pants.  He lay there gasping and panting, completely spent as he continued to palm his softening sensitive cock, whimpering in the aftershock of his orgasm.

Clarity hit him hard like a freight train and he had to choke back a sob at the realization of what he’d just done. 

You’d helped him today, cared for him, worried for him and, instead of thanking you, he’d cum to the sound of Merle fucking you.  Merle.  Merle who had brought you here. Merle who tormented you. Merle who wouldn’t let you leave. Merle who was most likely hurting you. 

Dirty dirty ugly dirty. 

Everything about this house was ugly.  Pure filth made especially for scum like Daryl and his brother.  He could never say he was any better than Merle. He was just as angry, just as perverted, just as guilty. 

Daryl hit the side of his head once, twice, fingers weaving their way into his hair and tugging hard on his scalp, biting back the tears that threatened to fall. 

Merle was a disease, but was Daryl any different? 

That thought echoed round his head as he laid back in bed, hollow eyes staring at the molding ceiling above him.  He didn’t attempt to sleep, knew he couldn’t, not after what he’d done that night. Instead he let his guilt infest his mind as his hands clung to the still damp wash cloth you’d left in his bed. 

[hicktrashspit]

Hi!! I was wondering if you know the song Western Nights by Ethel Cain? For some reason it reminds me so much of Merle and you honestly write him better than anyone else so I thought I should ask in case you don’t know it and it gives you some inspo 💗

Thank you so much for this anon! The hicktrashspit household is a big Ethel Cain fan, saw her live once and she was incredible <3 this is a big compliment 🖤 I reference a lot of music and songs I like in most of my writing so I always wonder if people pick up on that

[hicktrashspit]

Thankssss for that incredible Halloween story I cant wait to more Merle fics from you.

You’re so welcome, friend! I’ve got some really great requests and ideas I’ve got saved that I can’t wait to write, so stay tuned <3

[hicktrashspit]

A Game of Wolf and Rabbit - Merle Dixon / reader Chapter 2

Crossposted on Ao3

Chapter 1 here Summary: Holidays were always a busy time for Merle Dixon and Halloween was no exception. It was one of the few times of year uppity smartmouth college kids used mommy and daddy's money to let loose and actually enjoy life. Waiting to make his last deal he didn't expect his final client of the day to be a vision plucked straight from his sordid dreams. Dressed like a rabbit, and scaring just as easy, Merle keeps pushing and prodding seeing just how far it takes for you to break and admit he's exactly the kind of man who could give you what you wanted. Based on this request here Tags / CW: 18+, degradation, praise kink, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dacryphilia, throat training, gagging, deep throating, drug use, sex under the influence, dom / sub dynamic, bad BDSM etiquette, no aftercare, no safeword, sub training, manhandling, choking, age gap, bunny girl costume, petnames, Merle calls reader bunny, dirty talk, it's sleazy, Merle's mean but reader's into it

AN: So here's chapter 2... I don't really know what happened, I can't be chill when I write Merle apparently. I just know that man would fuck mean and nasty. If you're new here and haven't read my other Merle works please be warned it's a little gross and as usual there's a lot of fluids. Ok back to writing gutwrenching angst. Enjoy!

Merle moved into position with practiced ease, leaning back on his haunches and releasing the arm around your neck, shifting so his hand lay between your shoulderblades, pushing your face back down into the dirty floor, his other hand hiking your hip up so your ass was raised up in the air. “Stay like that, darlin’,” he hummed approvingly, “I like ya on all fours for me.” He added another firm tap to your already sore backside that had you flinching in reaction. When you did as you were told and remained in position Merle didn’t hesitate to dive right in, barely giving you a chance to recover from his manhandling, he was done taking his time with you. His fingers were rough when they grabbed at the silky satin of your bunny-suit, roughly yanking the fabric covering your crotch to one side, instantly exposing your glistening folds. He wanted to keep you in that absurd little costume, those heels, those stockings, that tight little leotard, he wanted you in it all while he played with you. You shuddered, your whole body twitching when your hot needy core was exposed to the open air, embarrassment and something carnal painting you pink. Merle whistled low and impressed, his eyes drinking in the sight of you before he was dragging a calloused finger up your slit, smirking when you jolted at the contact. “Ya soaked,” he muttered observingly, rubbing the slick he’d collected between two fingertips, “how long ya been like this?” When you didn’t respond, he delivered a quick sharp slap to your clit, his dick twitching when you let out a startled yelp. “Answer me.” His tone was full of authority, discipline always came easy to a man like Merle Dixon. “When I- on- on the couch.” You choked out, whole body tense with anticipation. ‘H-hurry up.” “Patience, needy thing” Merle tutted, but couldn’t hide the smile behind his voice that even when you were acting all high and mighty you’d been wet from his words alone. “I got ya all worked up, didn’ I? Bet ya couldn’ stop thinkin’ bout my cock.” Your face flushed with shame at his words, but you were nodding, agreeing, submitting, just desperate to get him to properly touch you, to act on all those big filthy promises he’d made. “Y-yeah. Please. Want it.” You mewled, any dignity you had snuffed out like a used matchstick. Merle was grinning from ear to ear, entirely satisfied with his handiwork, with you, with how easy he’d been able to get that shy nervous uptight thing absolutely begging for his cock from just a few words and touches. It was while he was admiring your begging and squirming that a delicious, wicked idea popped into his twisted lust-driven mind. Well, you had come all that way to see the lovely lady molly after all. Merle needed to give you something quicker though, something that would hit while he was on the verge of driving you insane with desire. By sheer luck he had just the thing tucked away in his back pocket, a small little baggie he retrieved and held up in the air triumphantly. “Ya lookin’ real fine like that, sweetheart, so I got somethin’ nice for ya, a real special treat.” He drawled, shaking the baggie for emphasis. You were looking up at him from over your shoulder, skepticism and trepidation clouding your features despite how flushed and desperate you looked. “What’s-” you started all unsure but Merle was quick to jump in, quelling your worries.

“It’s good stuff, honey, will get ya feelin’ real good.” He brushed off your concern as he dipped the finger still covered in your slick into the fine white powder, the substance clinging to your fluid, before he was reaching forward, towards your lips, waiting expectantly for you to open your mouth and accept his offering. Your hesitation was louder than gunfire, he could see the inner conflict running wild in your eyes, screaming at you that this was an awful terrible idea. That shit like that was how women ended up shoved into a ditch on an empty highway, that it was mundane monotony that kept people alive, that kept them safe. But being a good girl had never been no fun, had it? Your lips parted and Merle was pushing his index finger into your mouth, your tongue instantly trying to curl round it, to lap at his powder covered finger, but he was one step ahead of you, pushing up into your gums to get it in your system quicker. Well damn, Merle never thought he’d see it snowing in Georgia that time of year. He rubbed his finger back and forth, massaging it into your firm gums, smiling down at you approvingly. Your mouth was grimacing slightly at the unpleasant bitter chemical flavor, but your eyes were half lidded, all hazy and looking up at him after he’d knocked you right into submission. “That’s it, sweetheart, bein’ real good for me, aincha?” He praised, pushing his finger down to press on your tongue once it was clean, watching with delight as you suckled from it obediently, your tongue wrapping round the tip in a way that had his mind running a mile a minute with depravity. He pushed his finger in further, testing the waters, but he’d barely gotten half way, hadn’t even reached the knuckle, before you gagged, tears springing in your eyes as they widened slightly. Ah. A weak gag reflex. A very weak gag reflex. You hadn’t spat him out at least which he very much appreciated, but he would have to fix that little issue, ain’t no way Merle Dixon was gonna fool around with a chick who couldn’t take more than a couple inches That could wait though, first he had to make good on all those promises he’d made you and show you what rewards fucking old and dirty would get you. He retracted his finger from your mouth, giving your cheek a firm reassuring pat for good measure before he was placing one hand on the small of your back while the other started lazily running his middle and ring finger up your slick slippery slit.

You sighed at the contact, pushing your hips up further, obviously expecting some light teasing and petting before he played with your clit like it was as fragile as glass. God, you really had no idea who you were dealing with, Merle thought with great amusement before he was pushing both index and ring finger straight into your tight wet cunt, all the way up to the knuckle. You stiffened, clearly not expecting such a sudden intrusion, but before you could even voice a reaction he was pulling out and pushing in. Again, and again and again, until he was setting a ruthless punishing speed, finger fucking you hard and fast. Your mouth was hanging open, cheek pressed to the floor as your breath caught on a choked gasp. Merle didn’t let up, didn’t slow down or stop, just kept railing you with his fingers, enjoying the obscene wet squelching noise your drenched hole was making, holding back a groan at how your inner walls hugged him so tight, greedily sucking him in like your mouth had done only mere moments ago. “Pussy so hungry for me, bunny, sucking me in so good. Wait ‘til she gets a real feedin’.” Merle leered down at you, near breathless from the white hot high of arousal pulsing through his veins. You had found your breath and were now panting, your eyes squeezed shut as you took his ruthless treatment like you knew he wanted, bending to his will and forcing yourself to lay still all submissive. He was satisfied with your compliance despite how you so obviously wanted to squirm away, to suggest a gentler pace, wanting to prove to him that you could take it hard and good. That you could handle a real man.

Real men weren’t soft, real men weren’t gentle. Real men fucked fast, real men fucked rough, real men fucked hard. So you sure as hell were gonna take it. His eyes were trained down on where his fingers were disappearing in and out of you, your juices drenching them soaked, making it easy to slip in another finger, forcing another ragged gasp to tumble from your pretty red lips. He didn’t miss when your asshole twitched as he added another finger, and he laughed, a loud barking sound that had you jumping at the same time the thumb on the hand fucking you pressed teasingly against your puckered hole. “Ever been fucked here, sweetheart?” He snickered, his thumb pressing against your tight pink entrance like a warning, humming when you shook your head back and forth “No? Didn’ think so, bunny.” Lord, he would have given half his stash of crystal to sink balls deep into that tight ring of muscle but he knew he had to be patient, he had to work you up to that shit. One hole at a time Merle thought, chastising himself for his overeagerness. He withdrew his thumb, focusing on making a complete mess of your pussy, his relentless fingers now reaching new purpose as he curled them upwards, massaging your insides as he searched for that- The long drawn out moan that ended on a choked cry told Merle he had found exactly what he was looking for. “There she is.” Merle purred, giving another hard thrust of his fingers, relishing when you moaned again, louder and higher this time. “Feel that, baby? That’s God's gift to women.” Having found that sweet spot that was sure to have your toes curling Merle abused it, curling his fingers deep within you while he rubbed at you firm and steady, massaging you from the inside as he kept hitting it over and over and over. You were a writhing mess, your whole body squirming and contorting despite the bruising grip on your hip that tried to keep you still. Your hips were both pushing back against his fingers, desperately chasing that intense deep shock of pleasure coursing through your body while simultaneously trying to squirm away, your ecstasy both too much yet not enough at all.

Merle didn’t let up though, his fingers continuing to massage that sweet labyrinth of nerves that lay deep inside you, smirking when your walls fluttered around his persistent probing fingers. He hadn’t even gone near your clit yet and you were a goddamn drooling mess, each breath you took ending in a husky little moan as your nails clawed at the flaw beneath you, desperate to hold onto something while you teetered on the edge of release. Merle could tell you were close by the way you were pulsing around all three fingers, your body both sucking him in while also trying to push him out, so he picked up his pace, targeting that spot over and over and over, spurred on by your high keening cries. “Oooh, baby, there ya go, that’s it.” He purred, praising you real good as he coaxed you to your edge. “Such a messy fuckin’ pussy, takin’ me so good, sugar, I could just eat ya up.” You whined at the praise, a sweet high desperate sound, your eyes screwed shut as you bit at your lip so hard Merle wouldn’t be surprised if you broke the skin. The sight of you barely holding on was absolutely hypnotic and Merle had to pat himself on the back for not just pulling his dick out and cramming it deep into that tight slippery hole that was absolutely soaked from his rough treatment of you. He wished that dumbass college boy Mike had come with you that night, Merle could have made him watch, show him what a real fuck looked like, show him how to finger a bitch so good she couldn’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure. That was how chicks liked it, rough and hard and downright dirty. A choked sob brought him out of his little fantasy while his fingers kept rub rub rubbing at that sensitive used spot. Merle realized you were talking, mumbling incoherently as you desperately rocked your hips back against his movements. “What’s that, bunny?” He too was breathless but there was a smug undertone to his words, satisfied that he got you so fucked out already. “C’mon, use ya words, sweet thing, lemme hear ya.” Your eyes were fluttering open, peering up at him, wet with tears from overstimulation you were desperately willing not to fall. “ ‘m gonna- gonna,” your voice was thick and heavy with drool as you struggled to get the words out, like you were about to say the most sinful slur imaginable, “gonna cum.” You finally choked out, your cheeks flushing with a new wave of shame Merle felt his head swelling with pride and he growled, a deep guttural possessive sound as his hand entangled in your hair, holding you still and forcing your head into the floor as he finger fucked you with incredible speed, spurred on by those sweet syrupy words and the insatiable need to see you cum. “Yeah? That feel good, slut?” He snarled, voice rough but there was an affection under his deep growl. You were just too damn cute. “Ya gonna cum for me? Ya gonna cum on ma fingers?”

You were whimpering, nodding your head eagerly, your whole body trembling from exertion as your muscles tensed in wake of your approaching climax, all while Merle spat a slurry of filth at you. “Betcha wish it was my cock, huh? My fat fuckin’ cock stretchin’ ya out so good, fillin’ ya nice and deep.” He was panting hard, his hand forcing your head down onto the floor releasing you and grabbing at your wrist, guiding it behind you. You shuddered when your hand came into contact with the thick hard appendage between his legs, your fingers squeezing on instinct, making Merle hiss through his teeth. “Feel that? Feel that, whore? That’s your reward. Cum all pretty for me and I’ll think ‘bout givin’ it to ya.” Your hand was trying to rub him through his jeans, the angle awkward and your movements clumsy, sure as hell wasn’t the best groping Merle had received but he wasn’t gonna stop you from having your fun. A for effort when you were on the verge of cumming all over his fingers. His free hand was gripping you by the hip, his thumb rubbing at your soft skin in grounding firm circles as he guided you to your release, coaxing you while you whimpered, and whined and sobbed, all overwhelmed. “C’mon, baby, that’s it. Bein’ so good for me, jus’ a lil more, c’mon, girl, cum for me.” He was whispering sweet filthy praise to you, noting that you clenched down even harder from his rewarding words. Merle grinned, Oh. You liked that shit, huh? He sped up his thick rough fingers that were massaging you so deep and good, adding a renewed vigor as he pushed you closer to release. “Good girl, lookin’ so pretty, all for me, huh?” He husked, grinning at you lazily as he twisted his fingers up inside you just right, followed by a gruff command of “Cum for Merle.” The orgasm that rippled through your entire body stole your breath clean away, air catching in your throat as your whole body seized up, your lips parted in a silent scream of pure unfiltered ecstasy. The feeling of you clenching round his fingers, your warm tight walls pulsing and fluttering round him had blood pooling in his groin, his brain running wild imagining how his dick would feel sunk deep inside you while your quivering lips milked him dry. Goddamn. Merle thought, his hand stroking the skin of your hip before he was internally smiling, knowing full well he wasn’t done with you. Your body was shuddering, your eyes squeezed shut as pleasure rolled through you wave after wave after wave, the pulsing of your overworked pussy not yet ceasing. You were too exhausted to react to the firm slap delivered to your sore reddened rear, Merle squeezing at the supple flesh and husking out a raspy “atta girl, did so good sweet thing.” You were smiling all delirious, pleased you’d done a good job, pleased you’d been able to take him, but it was a short-lived moment of bliss before his fingers were picking up pace once more, having not yet left your sopping hole, probing you good and deep again. You jolted, your slack body immediately tensing up a second time, your eyes going wild as you looked up at him in sheer disbelief.

“Ah- what-” You squeaked but were immediately cut off when he brought his other hand between your legs, cupping the front of your pussy as the large pad of his thumb got to work rubbing firm fast circles on your clit, the area that had been neglected for so long, now swollen and sensitive and begging for stimulation. The noise you let out didn’t sound far off from a woman being tortured, a high drawn out wail as your back arched, your whole body shuddering. Merle chuckled at your reaction, hungry greedy eyes raking over the length of your body, enjoying the helplessness in your voice. “Think I was gonna let ya get away with jus one?” He drawled, all lazy and cocky like he wasn’t absolutely obliterating you. “I don’ think so, darlin’, ya got more in ya I can tell.” Your head was shaking back and forth from where it lay in a puddle of drool, now babbling incoherently, short little gasps of too much too much, but your body was betraying you, your hips thrusting back against his hands frantically, almost in a frenzy, desperate to keep chasing that overwhelming pleasure, to reach that sweet sweet release. “Oh… oh…” You were moaning, your mind blank with pleasure, all you could seemingly focus on were the two hands wrecking your cunt. Merle kept up a fast and ruthless pace, his fingers deep inside you massaging your g-spot and his thumb rubbing firm little circles on your clit in a delicious combination that had your body reeling with euphoria. You were clenching down so hard on him, you almost pushed him out a couple times, but he was a stubborn persistent man, easily fucking his fingers back into you in a rythm that had your eyes rolling back. “Easy, girl, that’s it.” His voice was little more than a hot whispered murmur. “C’mon, baby, give Merle another one.” He could tell you were close, your twitching folds tensing as your second orgasm started building, still trembling from the aftershocks of the previous one, his rough hands making a complete mess of your pussy. The whole thing was obscene, slick fluids covering every inch of his fingers as the room was filled with the sounds of wet sloppy squelching, your high moans and his ragged panting breaths. Yeah. This was what you needed, bet no man before him had ever treat you so downright filthy, and that thought had Merle’s chest swelling with pride. He had claimed you, marked you as his, ain’t no way any fella would get you lookin’ like this after him, you’d remember this fuck for life. That thought had him smug as all hell and to mark his territory he spat, directly on your asshole, a petty symbol of marking what he thought was his. He may as well have pissed all over you. “Look at me.” Merle barked. “Ya gonna look at me when ya cum, bitch.” Your eyes fluttered open, blindly searching for his, absolutely fucked out of your mind and Merle felt his insides curling with pleasure when your blownout pupils met his. Well, shit, the blow sure as hell had kicked in.

He smiled down at you, all pleased with himself, knowing you were flying high and about to cum for him once again really made his brain tick. “There she is.” Merle cooed before he was pinching your clit, hard. You weren’t quiet through your second orgasm, you practically screamed as you came hard and fast, slick fluids gushing around his fingers as he kept fucking you through it, rubbing you hard and fast at that same punishing speed. Your whole body was twitching, your muscles spasming and your limbs like jelly. When Merle withdrew both hands from you, leaving your sopping hole suddenly so empty, your knees finally gave out, your whole body collapsing as you crumpled to the floor, a panting sweating mess. There was a brief moment of relief, a moment of pure bliss when Merle let you just breathe as you tried to recover, your overstimulated cunt still twitching, but you were grateful for relief from the onslaught of rough fingers on your sensitive nerves. You thought he was done with you, that surely that was enough, that there was no possible way you could keep going. You were done, your body was exhausted, your damn pussy couldn’t take no more. But daddy never raised no quitter in Merle so he sure as hell wasn’t gonna show you any mercy. His strong hands were grabbing at your shoulders, hauling your lip body up to your knees, pressing your back up against his chest and holding you firm. Your head lolled to the side, resting on his shoulder as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, trying to catch your breath. It was cute, you thought he was gonna cuddle you real sweet like some kind of aftercare bullshit and for a second Merle almost felt bad, almost, but he had never really been one for sympathy. He hooked an arm across your waist, pulling you flush against him, grunting when the firm swell of your ass made direct contact with his crotch, holding you firm to keep you upright. His free hand gave your flushed pink cheek a little pinch, cooing at you softly before that same hand was dipping down, two firm fingers instantly making contact with your sore overused clit, rubbing circles with that same incessant urgency. Your body seized up like you’d been shocked, limbs locking tight as you whined out a long wailing “Noooooo” drawing out the word before it trailed off with a choked sob. “Shh, shhh.” Merle hushed at you, burying his nose in your hair and giving you sweet reassuring kisses. “C’mon, baby, one more. Jus’ one more.” His fingers were relentless, a stark contrast to the hushed whispered words he was soothing you with. You were writhing in his strong grip, his arm refusing to budge, as you tried to wriggle away from him, your head shaking back and forth frantically. “Can’t, can’t.” Your words were slurred, tears streaming down your face, fingers gripping and clawing at his thighs, your pointed nails threatening to tear through the fabric of his jeans. “Sure ya can, bunny, c’mon.” He murmured right by your ear. “Ain’t this what ya wanted? Ain’t this what ya begged for?” You were whimpering, head thrown back over his shoulder as you grit your teeth, your breath releasing in rapid little hisses, your clit pulsing in time with your pounding heartbeat and your hole clenching and fluttering around nothing, begging to be filled once again despite how spent you were.

He could tell  you were close to breaking, your body and mind in complete war with each other but then Merle felt it, he felt the moment your body won that heated battle when your hips shifted and suddenly you were thrusting forward, rolling your hips up to meet his quick skilled fingers. The deep grind of your hips forcing your ass back against Merle from how close he had you held so tight against him had something inside him snapping. The arm holding you across your hip reached up fast, his fingers closing round your neck, gripping tight and squeezing hard. Your eyes instantly went wide, your mouth dropping open, but Merle could feel the way your body shuddered as his fingers braced like a vice round your throat. “Yeah, that’s it.” Merle growled, his voice rough and mean as he ground his hips up against yours, meeting your movements, blindly rutting his aching cock against you in a frenzied rhythm. “Knew ya wanted it. Such a needy messy slut, ain’t that right.” He was panting, the thrumming ache of his groin suddenly almost too much to bear, he needed to get you cumming or he was gonna cream his pants just from grinding against you alone, humping you like a dog in heat. Both your bodies were writhing against each other, an animalistic rolling rhythm that had the two of you gasping, both of you damn near delirious with want and need and the desperate desire for release. Your hands were moving all over him, grabbing and clawing at whatever you could find, unable to settle on one spot as you frantically tried to hold onto something stable while Merle sent you hurtling towards your final climax. You were letting out the most filthy primal sounds, a low dulcet “uh uh uh uh” that matched the rhythm of your canting rolling hips. “C’mon, bunny, one more time.” Merle husked out, his voice strained as the fingers round your neck squeezed tighter, just enough to cut off your airflow, letting you reach that floaty delirious heady feeling, all while he whispered filthy praise to you, breath hot and heavy. “That’s it, almost there, such a good fuckin’ slut, c’mon, cum for Merle.” He kept squeezing at your throat, holding you real tight as those devilish unmerciful fingers were strumming you harder, faster, meaner feeling you pulse and clench and writhe from his touch. Almost there…

He could feel your pulse fluttering, the lack of air making you lightheaded and just when you were on the verge of passing out, your jaw going slack and your eyes rolling back, Merle released his vice like grip and bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to mark you. The sudden breath of air filling your lungs combined with the brutal sting of his teeth sinking into your flesh was sharp, an intense contrast to the warm haze he’d had you in, everything bursting into vivid focus, the immediate shift causing you to cum with a hoarse deafening wail. Your whole body arched, the bolt of pleasure coursing through you far too much to handle as Merle kept rubbing you through it, not letting up. “There ya go, girl, easy now.” He purred, his balls clenching with the need for his own release as you squirmed and writhed in his grip. “Keep cummin’ slut that’s it.”

It was with complete utter disbelief that Merle watched as a thin stream of clear fluid gushed from the tired aching lips of your overused pussy, coating his hand and the floor beneath you, your chest deflating with a long drawn out shuddering sigh. Well, shit. Goddamn, he’d made you squirt. He was so stunned, so out of his mind with arousal, that he couldn’t even think of a snarky comment to boast about what he’d just done. He just wordlessly lifted his hand up before his eyes, admiring the way your fluids clung to his skin, absolutely drenching his fingers, sticky and clear and oh so tempting. You were completely limp, exhaustion making you all floppy like a ragdoll and if it wasn’t for the arm now wrapped across your shoulders keeping you up, Merle was pretty sure you would have collapsed. You were breathing heavy ragged breaths, letting out little mewling whimpers as the aftershock of your orgasm still sizzled through your system. Merle brought his fingers up to your lips, prodding at you to open up, smiling when he was met with no resistance, too fucked out of your mind to care. “Bet no one’s made ya do that before, hmm, sweetheart?” He grinned, finally finding his voice again, nothing could shut Merle Dixon up for too long. You didn’t even react, just kept blinking all slow and sleepy while you suckled on his fingers, warm wet tongue lapping at the fluids covering each digit. He hummed at you, pleased, content to watch you suck on his fingers like they were a damn popsicle, inching them in further and further to get you to clean them up, but when he pushed too far and you gagged, a wet sticky sound, that had the beast inside merle stirring, awakening something anew. He was instantly moving, barely giving you a chance to react as he pulled his fingers from your mouth, raising to his feet behind you and letting you flop down onto your knees. Before you could fully collapse his hand was on your shoulder, firm and commanding. “Stay like that,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing along the smooth skin of your shoulder, “that’s right, on your knees, sugar, keep ya hands down in front of ya.” He was slow and confident in his movements as he walked to stand in front of you, looking down at you with hungry simmering eyes. You looked like a goddamn mess. You were looking up at him with hazy half lidded eyes, your pupils blown from the drugs and arousal coursing through your veins. Thick black streaks of mascara ran from your teary red rimmed eyes, all the way down to meet at the bottom of your chin. Your hair was a mess, all mussed up from his manhandling, those pointy black rabbit ears skewed at a funny angle. You were drenched in sweat, droplets that dripped from your neck and collected in the plump swell of your chest that was still heaving with deep gasping breaths. Merle couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a finer sight. His dick was pulsing at the sight of you, anticipation making him feel all hot and giddy as he just cooed at you all sweet and pleased, both hands reaching out to cup the sides of your face, giving your cheeks a little squish. “Is my lil bunny all worn out?” He pouted, looking all sad and sympathetic. You nodded hesitantly, peering up at him under wet lashes with a look of cautious wariness, sensing that he wasn’t quite done with you if the straining bulge in the front of his pants was anything to go by. Smart girl. “Ya can’t give up yet, girl,” he leered down at you, his thumbs reaching up to wipe away some of the mascara trails your tears had left, “I got somethin’ else for ya, a real treat.”

His hands were leaving your face to fumble with the buckle of his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping before he was reaching into the front of his pants to pull himself out. “Got a nice big carrot for my good lil bunny.” His voice was raspy, hissing in relief when his cock was released from its tight confines. You couldn’t even process the corny joke he’d just made as you just stared at his cock he held in one hand with wide anxious eyes, like you couldn’t quite believe what you were seeing. Merle just smirked at you. Wasn’t the first time a chick had that kind of reaction to the size of mini Merle. “What’s wrong, sugar?” He drawled, giving himself a few lazy tugs, getting off on intimidating you further. “Never given head before?” You just kept staring, your mouth opening to speak but no words coming out, eyes trained on the length of him like he was pointing a damn gun at you. “Hello? You there, bunny?” Merle whistled, waving his other hand in front of your face “Have. You. Ever. Sucked. Dick.” He sounded out each word like you were stupid and that snapped you out of it. You looked up at him with a scowl. “yes I have, of course I have.” You huffed, your voice a little hoarse from how loud you’d been screaming for it earlier, pissed off with his attitude. But through your scowling Merle could see how your gaze kept flitting to the head of his cock, eyes following his hand that was slowly jacking up the length of it. Merle’s smile was nothing but sleazy before his other hand gripped at your chin, gently craning your head back further. “I bet ya ain’t seen ‘nother pecker like this though, have ya, darlin’?” He whispered the words to you, satisfied when your eyes were dropping to the floor in embarrassment. “No…” You breathed, shame coating your words. Merle hummed at you, hand squeezing at your chin to get you to look back up at him. “I’ll show ya how to take it, girl,” His voice was dripping with lust, his thumb on your chin pulling down, parting your lips, “jus’ do what I tell ya.” His thump kept pushing down, forcing your lips open wider while his other hand guided the tip of his dick towards your waiting willing mouth. He paused, tapping the head on your lips, once twice, not missing when you winced, before settling just at the entrance of your mouth. “But ya best believe I’m fuckin’ ya throat.” He drawled with a real smug smile before he was pushing into you. Merle didn’t wanna waste time with some drawn out blowjob foreplay, he didn’t need any kitten licks on the head, little suckles to his balls and gentle kisses up his shaft. Nah. He needed to fuck something, and he needed to fuck something fast, all that time he’d spent playing with you had his dick so hard and balls so full that it damn well hurt.

So he wasted no time as he pushed into your mouth, his breath hitching when your lips so easily wrapped around the tip of his dick, showing you were ready to take him. Well good, you’d passed the first hurdle. Was sure as hell gonna be a lot harder from there on out. He eased his way into your mouth, inching his hips forward one little bit at a time, but he had barely gotten even near halfway before you were gagging, your head jerking to immediately pull back. Merle was quick to stop you, one hand tangling in your hair to hold you still at the back of your head, halting your retreat. “Stay.” He grunted, a low commanding order. “Keep it there.” You were breathing quick and heavy through your nose, the corners of your lips twitching as you forced yourself to stay still. He could feel your throat contracting, the muscles spasming as you fought back another gag. Shit, Merle had been right, you had the gag reflex of a damn ammature. He’d have to go a little slower than he preferred, he’d be balls deep in you already if he had any say, and as tempting as it was to just thrust himself fully down you, the tight seam of your lips on his cock not cooling his burning desire to get off, he didn’t exactly wanna have to wash puke out his pubes after all this was done. He held you firm and still, watching with an observant eye, waiting until the muscles in your throat seemed to relax and your breathing slowed to a less panicked pace. Alright, little bit more. “Jus’ breathe for me, bunny.” He hushed as reassuringly as he could despite the fact his voice was rougher than sandpaper, his other hand cupping at your cheek, squeezing firm, before he was moving his hips again, sliding in further. He had barely moved before you gagged again, harder this time, looking up at him through teary eyes as you made a noise of protest, a low whine, the vibrations of which had Merle’s jaw clenching and testing his self restraint to the limit. “Breathe, breathe.” He hissed, actively restraining himself from just thrusting all the way in. “That’s it, baby, jus’ keep breathing.” He kept up that routine, a little push in then holding you there, waiting for you to adjust and stop gagging around the intruding thick length of his dick. After he’d pushed in just over halfway, the spongy head of his cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged so hard little droplets of spit leaked from the edge of your mouth.

Shit. Your throat was so tight, too tight, so clenched up and tense he couldn’t push further. Merle was panting, his balls twitching for release, tugging on your hair being the only thing able to ground him in that moment as his whole head was cloudy with lust. “Gotta- gotta relax ya throat, sweetheart.” He wheezed out, his voice a new level of strained. “Can’t push in no more.” You tried to talk despite the fact your mouth was crammed full of dick, muffled noises of complaint but Merle interrupted you quick, the vibrations of your voice on his cock almost breaking his resolve. “Ya can, ya can,” he insisted through strained panting, “just gotta keep breathin, girl, that’s it, nice and deep.” You did as you were told, your chest rising as you tried to breathe as slow and deep as you could through your nose, your eyes still looking up at Merle, the faintest desire for praise swimming in those irises. “That’s it, sweet thing, good girl.” Merle petted at your hair clumsily as he waited for you to relax once again. He felt it when the muscles of your throat loosened slightly, right where the head of his dick was trying to breach through, not by a lot, but it sure as hell was enough. Merle held his breath, swallowing down a dry lump in his throat, before he was thrusting forward, pushing the rest of the way down your throat right up to the hilt. The moan he let out was long, deep and husky as he let his head drop back, eyes closed in pure bliss at the feeling of being balls deep sunk snug in your throat. Your nose was flushed against his greasy mess of tangled pubes, the puffs of air from your nose tickling his skin, your throat constricting around his length, the muscles fluttering to try and accommodate the sudden intrusion, but he was in too deep that you couldn’t gag around him, forced to just take him in. Merle just held you there, relishing the tight warmth of your throat, sighing in relief as he finally got what he wanted. “That’s good… That’s good…” He breathed, talking more to himself than you before he was looking back down at you. You were peering up at him with coy innocent looking eyes, awaiting your next instruction, while your plump red lips were stretched around the wide girth of the base of his cock. Damn, Merle was gonna have to commit that sight to memory, it wasn’t something he ever wanted to forget. “Ya look real good like that, baby, all stretched out on me.” He drawled, smiling real pleased at your efforts, his fingers stroking at your hair approvingly. “Such a good lil bunny, aincha? Ya like ya treat-” But before Merle could utter a single word you swallowed, the tight warm muscles of your throat clenching down on him hard and his brain blanked as he just about lost it. “Fuck.” He was pulling back then roughly pushing back in before he even knew what he was doing, both hands gripping the back of your head as he started fucking your throat, fast and relentless, a similar speed and vigor to how he played with your cunt.

Your eyes widened, a surprised high sound vibrating the head of his dick as he fucked into your mouth like a man possessed. Your hands darted up, reaching to grab at his legs to stabilise yourself but he stopped that shit, barking out a gruff “hands down” and you instantly retreated, hands planted on the floor in front of you, your nails scratching at the grimy surface. You had your eyes squeezed shut then, just taking it, letting him use your throat like it was his own personal pocket pussy, so desperate to please. Merle’s eyes were intense and unblinking, solely focused on you, satisfied by your obedient compliance. “Yeah, that’s it, slut, take it.” He sneered down at you, the patient man trying to coax you onto his length long gone as he chased his own pleasure in a crazed daze. “Takin’ me so good.” His hips had picked up speed, his huge cock fucking into your throat over and over, which had you releasing the most obscene wet gurgles as drool dripped down your chin in thick heavy droplets. His grip on the back of your head was bruising, both hands holding you tight and still as he just fucked your mouth deep and hard and fast like it was nothing. Merle was rapidly approaching release, being so goddamn turned on for so long getting him all worked as he felt his balls clenching, the warm coil in his gut only curling tighter. “Gonna cum in that whore mouth.” He ground out through a clenched jaw, barely holding on and hissing when you moaned in response. “Yeah? Ya like that? Wanna swallow my cum, bunny?” His hips were snapping forward in a clumsy unsteady rhythm, stuttering as he neared climax, his balls slapping against your chin adding to the sordid crescendo of your gurgling moans and Merle’s heavy grunts. It was all too fucking good, the feel of your tight throat swallowing him down, the sounds of your wet cloying gags as you let him use you, the sight of those bunny ears swinging back and forth with each rough thrust to your mouth, it was a miracle Merle had lasted as long as he did. However it was the sight of red on his dick, deep streaks of crimson from your girly lipstick staining his dick, that sent Merle straight over the edge. “Don’ swallow yet-” was all he was able to get out before he was pulling back just enough in your mouth and cumming with a choked off groan, gasping for air as his hips slowed to a few stuttered shallow thrusts. He held you there against him, his head thrown back, panting and breathing hard as his orgasm flooded his body with an electric static warmth that had him close to seeing stars. “Goddamn.” He breathed, absolutely spent and feeling like he’d run a thousand miles. He didn’t know how long he stood like that, just relishing the afterglow of his climax and the feeling of your wet warm mouth wrapped around him, his hands absentmindedly rubbing little circles in your scalp, before you were making a questioning high noise.

He looked down at you, seeing you still on his dick with a mouth full of cum. Oh, right. He pulled himself out of your mouth with much reluctance, his hand gripping at your chin, keeping your mouth open and tilting your head back. “Tongue out. Show me.” He grunted, pleased when you complied and carefully stuck your tongue out for him. A thick viscous puddle of his spend lay on your tongue. Merle thought that was a truly beautiful sight. Something was missing though, and he didn’t hesitate to spit directly onto your tongue, his saliva joining the sticky mess. Before you could protest, he was pushing your mouth closed, his fingers trailing down to lightly run over the column of your throat. “Swallow.” He murmured, smiling when you did so, his fingers feeling your throat moving as you swallowed down his essence. Shit, you were good. A real cute obedient little thing, you hadn’t even attempted to move out of your position from the floor. Oh Merle couldn’t wait to play with you again. What could he have you do next? Your ass had looked real tempting and he had a buttplug under his bed with your name on it. He grinned at you, one hand pinching at your cheek as he thought about all the shit he wanted to do to you. “Well, damn, bunny, that was real somethin’.” He drawled, back to his usual cocky teasing. “Y’all a quick learner, girl, maybe y’aint as shy as you seem.” He winked at you, before he was reaching into the pocket of his pants to retrieve a pack of smokes and a lighter. You wrinkled your nose in disgust when he offered you one muttering something about not smoking. “Suit ya’self.” He shrugged before lighting one up and taking a long drag, enjoying that sweet post-sex nicotine high. “I dunno how I’m meant to party after this…” You had slumped down fully onto your ass, looking over yourself and the mess Merle had left you in, hell, even your bodysuit was still shoved to the side, your cunt still on display for anyone to see. “What did I tell ya?” Merle snorted. “Stop hangin’ round those boys, darlin’, it's a waste of goddamn time.” You ignored him, instead choosing to pick yourself up off the floor, but as soon as you got to your feet you wobbled, both from exhaustion and those cursed heels. Merle caught you before you dropped, both hands holding you up, trying to steady you. “Woah, girl, easy now.” He chucked when you collapsed into his hold, just giving up, your body at its limit. “Ya like a newborn foal.” But then something shifted in you as he held you there against him. You were chewing on your lip like you wanted to say something, looking away in thought, and for a second Merle was worried you were gonna ask for some aftercare bullshit. He wasn’t into all that soppy after sex cuddling and talking about feelings and shit, sex was sex, just a way for a fucker to get his rocks off, didn’t have to get all sentimental about it. Besides, he’d already offered his aftercare to you, you’d just denied it, wasn’t his fault you were too prissy to smoke.

He did figure he should maybe offer you some water or something… but that thought was swiftly interrupted by a loud BANG coming from the front door. Neither of you had noticed the sound of a bike engine pulling up out front but the loud crash on the other side of the door certainly let you both know you weren’t alone. “Shit!” Merle hissed, as another loud bang rang out through the air, making you jump out your skin. He was quickly shoving you to the couch, barking at you to “sit there and clean ya’self up.” You were wiping at your face with the back of your hands, looking all confused and nervous as you tried to fix your makeup the best you could, sliding your leotard back into place to cover your modesty. Merle had just about finished stubbing out his smoke and tucking his cock back into his pants when a couple more loud bangs sounded out. One. Two. Followed by the sound of splintered wood cracking as the door flew off its hinges when his baby brother successfully kicked the door down and busted the deadbolt. “Merle?! The hell ya playin’ at?” Daryl’s usual gruff voice carried through from down the hall, but it had that high whiny tone it often adopted when he was especially pissed off. “Why’d ya lock the damn door-” Daryl stopped dead in his tracks, immediately cut off when he appeared in the doorway and took in the sight of you. He was stood stiff by the open door, unable to take another step, one hand clutching a grease stained brown paper bag and another holding two vhs tapes. Guess the trip into town went well. There was a look of absolute profound shock on his baby brother’s face and, although it wasn’t common for the Dixons to have company, Merle was pretty sure an unexpected guest wasn’t the reason Daryl’s jaw was basically on the floor. His eyes were skimming over you, over your flushed sweaty face, remnants of makeup you’d barely been able to fully wipe off, your disheveled hair and the very obvious bitemark on your left shoulder. Merle didn’t miss when Daryl’s cheeks darkened a beet red at just how obscene you looked from your costume alone, let alone how fucked out you clearly were. But then those wide blue eyes were narrowing into slits as he eyed Merle accusingly, his expression deepening into a fierce scowl. If the room didn’t absolutely reek of the tell-tale strong scent of sex, and you didn’t look the way you did, if Merle’s shit-eating grin was anything to go by it was glaringly obvious what you had just done. Daryl was glaring at his big brother disapprovingly, his expression screaming too young. Way way way too young for you. But Merle ignored it, brushing him off as he strolled up to Daryl all unbothered. “Daryl, ya home, good to see ya boy!” Merle was all smiles as he clasped a hand on Daryl’s shoulder in greeting, a hand that hadn’t been washed.

Both brothers seemingly came to the realization at the same time as Daryl recoiled in disgust, swatting Merle’s hand away while the older Dixon couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “The hell you thinkin’?” Daryl snarled, hackles risen as he seethed at his brother before he was storming to the kitchenette to dump the bag of takeout on the side. “Oh, now, don’ be like that Darleena, y’all bein’ awful rude to our guest.” Merle called out after him, trying to hide his blatant amusement. It was always hilarious when he wound Daryl up. “Come say hello, show ya manners, boy.” You were sat on the couch like you had a stick up your ass, bolt upright and stiff as you forced a polite smile, even though Merle was damn sure you probably wanted to crawl into a hole and die at the thought of being caught post sex with Merle of all people. “Alright, Daryl, this is- er…” Merle had to pause when he realized he’d forgotten your name. Shit. He couldn’t exactly call you bunny in front of his brother. “...a friend, and darlin’? That cheerful fella is my baby brother.” “Hi!” Your voice was bright and friendly despite the fact you were riddled with humiliation, raising your hand in an awkward half wave to where Daryl was now leaning against the wall glowering at his brother. He just ignored you, not even looking your way, refusing to break the murderous glare he was shooting right at Merle. “Thought we was watchin’ movies.” Daryl muttered, his voice all low and sulky like it always was when he got all butthurt. Merle rolled his eyes. Was that really why he was so mad? Jesus his brother could be a real whiny bitch sometimes. “We are we are, stop that pouting, boy.” Merle marched over to Daryl to grab him by his scruff, jostling him like he used to do when he was a kid. “Our little friend’s gonna head on her way, don’ think she’d like ya taste in entertainment, brother.” Merle peered at the tapes still clutched in Daryl’s hand. “What’d ya get?” “The one where the chick gets cut in half with a chainsaw.” Daryl answered, a little sheepish as he tried to hide a smile tugging at his lips. Fucking hell, Merle felt like he was in a room with two damn teenagers. “Alright, darlin’, how ‘bout ya head on home?” His attention was drawn back to where you were still sat all rigid on the couch. “Gettin’ kinda late, ain’t ya got a party to be at.” “Oh.. right yeah…” You seemed a little bewildered by the interaction between the two brothers as you cautiously lifted yourself from the couch, Merle internally wincing when you stumbled like Bambi on ice. You were taking too much damn time and Merle wanted you the hell out of there before you said anything that would let slip to Daryl just how much of a sick fuck his big brother was. Not that he didn’t already have some idea. He was moving up behind you, hand on your lower back as he started guiding you out the room, nice and quick. “Alright, Daryl, say goodbye to the nice lady, bye-bye.” Merle said as he was pushing you past his brother, but then his ears caught the snide jab Daryl muttered at Merle’s expense.

“Wastin’ our damn money on jailbait.” He grumbled under his breath. Merle paused. “Hey! She ain’t no-” but then he was looking at you, at the smears of makeup across your face, at the state of your costume, at the dried dribble of cum just below the corner of your lips, “Goddamnit, forget it.” Merle had nearly pushed you out into the hall before you were looking back over your shoulder and calling out “hey, wait!” Daryl stiffened when he realized you were talking to him, looking at you as if you’d lost your mind. Merle internally cringed. What the hell did you think you were doing? “Daryl, right?” You fully turned to face him, pulling away from Merle’s prodding to get you out of the damn house, swatting him away when he reached for you again. Daryl said nothing, just continued watching you from the corner of his eye like he always did around strangers, thinking, silently analyzing you, his expression unreadable. “I-I came here to get molly.” You were a little shy but so unlike that timid thing that had first turned up earlier that night. Merle had to force himself not to slap a hand to his face, knowing full well where this was going. “So?” Daryl finally spoke, the first word he’d said to you since he’d kicked the front door in. “So… I was wondering how much? For a couple pills I mean.” Your tone was hopeful, finally getting what you came for. Daryl’s brow furrowed and his eyes quickly darted to where Merle was trying to look as innocent as possible before settling back on you. “The hell ya askin’ me for?” Daryl snorted. “I ain’t no dealer, that’s his job.” He nodded at Merle with a jut of his chin. Your face dropped instantly in pure disbelief and Merle's hand was quickly back on you, firmer this time as he practically forced you down the hall. “Alright, Missy, say goodbye now!” Merle said all cheery as if he wasn’t practically dragging you to the front door that was now just a hole in the wall thanks to Daryl. You pulled away, roughly turning to face him, anger clear as day in your eyes “I can’t believe you lied-” “Oh come off it.” Merle shut you down, not in the mood to be lectured “Ya jus’ had my dick in ya throat, honey, get off that high horse.” You flushed red, your hands bunched into fists by your sides but you didn’t argue back, just glared up at him with rage and disgust. Merle sighed, before he was reaching into his back pocket, producing the baggie of snow he’d used on you earlier. “Here, take this.” He held it out to you. “Hell of a lot better than molly, if that’ll stop ya bitchin’.” You didn’t hesitate to take the bag from his hand, muttering a little reluctant “thanks” before stuffing it in the front of your bodysuit. Merle smirked, for a prissy shy bitch you could be a real nasty slut. You didn’t bother with a farewell before you marched down the steps without another word, something you probably should have done when he first opened the door to you, heading out towards where Merle figured you’d parked your car, watching the sway of your hips with hungry eyes. When you were a good distance away Merle called out to you. “Hey, bunny!” He yelled, although you didn’t stop walking he knew you’d heard him. “If any of ya girly friends need some molly make sure to send ‘em my way.” He chuckled when your only response was to flip him off, not even looking back at him. Yeah, he’d been right about you. You had real potential, you just needed the right man to break you in. He had no doubt you’d be back.

[hicktrashspit]

A Game of Wolf and Rabbit - Merle Dixon / reader

Crossposted on Ao3

Chapter 2 here Summary: Holidays were always a busy time for Merle Dixon and Halloween was no exception. It was one of the few times of year uppity smartmouth college kids used mommy and daddy's money to let loose and actually enjoy life. Waiting to make his last deal he didn't expect his final client of the day to be a vision plucked straight from his sordid dreams. Dressed like a rabbit, and scaring just as easy, Merle keeps pushing and prodding seeing just how far it takes for you to break and admit he's exactly the kind of man who could give you what you wanted.

Based on this request here

Tags / CW: 18+, degradation, praise kink, dry humping, spanking, dom / sub dynamic, bad BDSM etiquette, sub training, manhandling, chokehold, age gap, bunny girl costume, petnames, Merle calls reader bunny, dirty talk, it's sleazy, mentions of drugs and drug use, coercion, Merle's a creep but reader's into it AN: Thank you to the wonderful anon who sent in the request, I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you enjoy it! This is gonna be a two chapter fic, part two is pretty much finished just gotta edit so I'll try and get that up in a day or two. As far as my other Merle fics go I'd say this starts out pretty tame (??) but it’ll get messy don't you worry. Also Merle has a big dick and he'd be an absolute jackass about it, you can't convince me otherwise. Enjoy! It was dark out by the time Merle Dixon had sprawled out on the stained ratty couch he shared with Daryl, chugging back what would no doubt be the first of many beers he’d knock back that night.

He was beat. He’d been busting his ass all day doing deal after deal and, sure, he liked the extra cash this time of year brought in, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t bitch about what a pain in the ass it was having to wait around while some kid counted out the right notes for a bag.

Holidays were always a busy time for Merle - no time like a celebration with friends and family to fry the ever loving shit out of your brain with something strong and deadly - and Halloween sure as hell wasn’t any different.

It was one of the few times of year all the privileged uppity college kids used mommy and daddy’s money to get all high and wasted and actually enjoy life, before going back to their mundane bootlicking routine with a tail between their legs, studying to be cops and crooks and lawyers.

Whenever Merle dealt with any of those yuppies they looked at him like he was the embodiment of sin, like even being near him would soil their cleancut lifestyle, but he didn’t really give a shit what they thought about him - had never given a shit about what anyone thought about him - and money was money so he put on his best business man smile and would try not to snicker when they flinched if he moved too fast.

He had one more deal to do that night, but this time he’d told the kid to come to his house. Normally he wouldn’t risk dealing from home but the guy was some pale-faced finance cuck, Mike or Mark or something, so Merle knew he wouldn’t give him any trouble.

Besides, he wanted to settle down and unwind while he waited for Daryl to return. His baby brother was out in town picking up some takeout for the two brothers. They rarely splurged on that kind of thing but it had become a yearly tradition every Halloween; they’d chow down on junk food while binge watching a bunch of shitty horror movies Daryl rented at the video store.

The Dixons weren’t ever a family to celebrate holidays but Merle had started up this little routine when Daryl was a little kid and he’d tried to calm his little brother down from crying after Daddy had hollered and beat on him for asking why the other kids at school got Halloween candy and he didn’t. Now it was something Merle kind of looked forward to, not that he’d ever admit it, and he chuckled to himself when he thought about the kind of movies Daryl would rent; he liked them real gory and nasty, blood and guts and all, his baby brother could be a real sick son of a bitch when he wanted to.

A rapid knock on the screen door snapped Merle to attention.

He glanced at the clock half hanging off the wall above the TV set. 7:20 pm. What the hell? He’d told that Mark (Mike? whatever.) guy 8:00pm, so who the hell was bothering him at that time.

The knock was way too light to be a cop and Merle would be damned if he was gonna get bothered by some kids looking for candy, they shouldn’t even be out that far.

“Fuck off.” Merle barked, loud enough so that whoever was outside daring to disturb his peace would be able to hear him.

There was a pause, a very obvious drawn out hesitation before he heard that same quick hurried knocking, though it was slightly quieter that time.

Motherfucker.

He was up and storming towards the front door all hotheaded, ready to completely chew out whoever the fuck was bothering him.

“The hell did I just say-” he spat out as he swung the front door open, irritation spiking his pulse, but whatever anger he felt instantly dissipated when he saw who, or what, was stood on his front porch.

You looked like you’d been plucked straight out of Hugh Hefner’s mansion, a vision of absolute debauched temptation. You were dressed just like a Playboy bunny, a silky black leotard hugging your curves and leaving absolutely no room to the imagination, the tight fabric pushing your breasts up towards each other giving you a generous amount of cleavage Merle bet would feel real good with his dick sliding through it. You had on a pair of cute matching ears that sat all crooked on your head, your hair pulled up into a tight high ponytail, a silky black choker wrapped around your neck and your long slender legs finishing in a pair of bright red heels that had you shifting uncomfortably, clearly not used to wearing shoes that high. But it was the stockings that really got Merle going, black sheer lacy things that reached your soft creamy thighs he could imagine would look real pretty wrapped around the sides of his head.

He hadn’t said a word, just openly ogling you, completely speechless at the filthy little thing knocking on his door that late at night. He briefly wondered if he’d called up a lot-lizard he’d forgotten about last time he blacked out and was now about to blow all the cash he’d made that day for a quickie out on the porch.

But then his eyes were lifting to your face and, nope, no way were you a working woman.

You looked like a deer in the headlights, wide pretty doe eyes looking at him all fearful, your shoulders stiff and slightly raised as you wrung your hands in front of you.

You looked nervous, real nervous, so tense and unsure as you shifted from one foot to the other, trying your best not to wobble in those damn absurd heels. You pretended to ignore his blatant staring at your chest, wanting to avoid that confrontation, but you still tugged at the neckline of your costume, pulling it as far over your plunging cleavage as it would allow, suddenly well aware of how much of your skin was exposed.

But then those bright red painted lips were parting, and you briefly built up the courage to look Merle in the eye, before your gaze flitted off to the side and you lost your nerve.

“H-hi, um…” You squeaked, your voice a shy timid little thing despite the fact you were trying your best to hide how nervous you were. “Sorry, I um, sorry, I’ve not-” You were stuttering, finding it hard to find your words as the grizzled burly man in front of you  just kept staring at you in disbelief.

“Are- are you Merle?” You finally blurted out, fast and in one breath like you wanted this whole exchange to be done as quick as possible.

As soon as you said his name Merle was instantly grinning, his surprise slowly ebbing away into fullblown amusement as he leaned against the doorframe, openly leering at you, all pleased and confident.

Well goddamn, you were just about the cutest thing he’d seen in a hot minute.

You were so shy and sweet yet dressed like an absolute whore, it was hilarious to Merle, you were truly a sight for sore eyes but were acting like a skittish little rabbit. Your costume was fitting. He couldn’t help but continue to check you out, his eyes openly raking over your body while you shifted awkwardly under his stare.

He had no clue how the hell a pretty thing like you had wound up on his doorstep - flat tire on the way to a Halloween party maybe? - but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining, he was gonna keep enjoying the view, yessir.

“Indeed I am, sugar. Now what do I owe the pleasure, honeybun?” He drawled, smirking when you bristled at the petname.

You smiled awkwardly, wanting to remain polite, manners most likely drilled into you for years by your mama, manners the Dixons certainly lacked.

“Mike said… Mike sent me to…” Merle watched you struggle to find your wording, not wanting to even utter the evil word drugs before his eyes nearly bulged out his head when your fingers were digging into the front of your cleavage, pulling out a wad of crumpled bills. “I’ve got cash!” You held up the money like it was a trophy all while Merle just gawked at you.

It took everything in him not to just burst out laughing there and then. Oh you were just too much, sweet little thing all nervous for her first drug deal, but he didn’t wanna offend you by laughing at you. Oh no. He wanted to get you wrapped around his little finger, all pliant and willing, until you were begging him to play with you like he was so desperate to.

He had dealt with shy girls before, often inexperienced and always younger, thinking a boring fuck from a guy who buys her flowers and candy was all there was to sex. But no. Girls like you needed to let loose, to play around with someone who knew what they were doing, with someone who didn’t mind getting down and dirty and doing all the things you were too ashamed to admit outloud.

But Merle also knew that girls like you needed to be dealt with a more gentle hand at first, coax the doe into the trap before the hacksaw comes out. He had to be a bit patient with you, he couldn’t just tell you to bend over right there on the porch and he’d give you whatever drugs you wanted for free. He had to get you loosened up first, show you what you’d been missing, what you so badly needed, before he pounced like a wolf on prey.

“I can see that.” Merle nodded at the wad of cash clutched in those dainty little fingers, his grin never faltering. “Where’d ya get a big sum like that darlin’?”

Daddy’s money he thought, trying not to roll his eyes.

“I work..” you muttered, constantly shifting from side to side in those uncomfortable heels, clearly not anticipating the small talk as you itched to just grab the drugs and go. “I’m a waitress." And there were those practiced manners, keeping up the conversation despite the fact you sure as hell looked like you wanted to be anywhere else, talking to him politely like he was one of your customers.

“Waitress, huh?” He smirked, god you were making this way too easy. “Bet a pretty lil thing like you gets lots of tips, ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks flushed and you ducked your head down, shaking it back and forth, all embarrassed at his less than subtle flirting.

“So what’s it you want, honey?” He kept the conversation going, needing your attention on him so he could slowly lure you where he wanted you. “What were you and Mike after?”

“Molly.” You murmured like it was some forbidden slur. “Just a couple pills. I-if that’s ok?”

You were just so utterly hopeless Merle wanted to wrap you up in a big strong hug, kiss you all gentle on the nose before he sank his sharp ravenous teeth into you. So an idea came to mind, he was always a quick thinker, a cunning mean little idea that was sure as hell gonna get him what he wanted.

“Oh, darlin’, ‘fraid I got some bad news…” He acted real sorrowful, like he felt bad about what he was about to tell you, getting you all buttered up so you thought he wanted to help you out. “Ya too early, told ya lil friend to come at eight, so ma brother ain’t back yet and he’s the one who deals molly,” a lie “I only sell grass,” another lie “don’ touch the hard stuff.” Merle Dixon deserved an award for how quick and easy lying came to him.

Merle didn’t miss the way your face fell, looking all sheepish and embarrassed as you just helplessly looked around like you weren’t too sure what to do now.

“O-oh…” You were trying to hide your blatant disappointment as you bit at your lip while you thought, Merle’s greedy eye trained on the plump flesh tucked underneath your pearly teeth. “I, um…” You trailed off, looking off to the side awkwardly.

Time for good ol’ Merle Dixon to save the day.

“Real sorry ‘bout that, darlin’,” he put the charm on real thick, sounding as kind and sympathetic as a man like him could possibly fake, “but I’ll tell ya what, why don’ ya come inside and get nice and warm, bet ya must be freezin’ out there. Then I’ll call ma baby brother up, get him to come back and get ya those pills.”

He smiled at you real warm and genuine in what he hoped would reassure you some. “Ya can wait inside ‘til he gets here.”

He saw you hesitating, obviously clued up enough to know not to just go into a strange man’s home, especially a man who looked like Merle, but he could also see how you were considering his offer. You had your arms crossed across your chest, your hands rubbing at your arms that were covered in goosebumps, suddenly well aware of how revealing your clothing was and how it did nothing to combat the chilled late October air.

“I dunno…” You hesitated and he could see how you were eyeing him properly for the first time, trying to read him while not being able to hide how intimidating you clearly found him. “I got a couple friends I need to pick up from town, I said I wouldn’t be long…”

Merle knew he was an imposing man, that he intimidated even the most hardened folk and, although women often loved a tough man, he knew a sweet thing like you would be wary of the likes of him, horror stories hammered into you by your mama of brutal violent men who would just tear up a delicate creature like you.

He had to be careful about this, gentle and coaxing, lest he send you bolting.

“Ma brother won’ be long, sugar, honest.” He spoke all casual and easy, like he wasn’t itching to feel you up and show you the good time he bet you hadn’t ever experienced. “He drives real fast, ya might have seen him drivin’ round town lookin’ all serious.” Merle mimicked the way Daryl looked whenever he rode, his arms high up on the bike that was too big for him, his eyebrows all furrowed when he concentrated.

You giggled at that, a quiet but genuine sound as you seemed to slightly relax, your shoulders easing in tension.

“I dunno…” You repeated, still a little wary but there was a small smile on those pretty red lips, humored by Merle’s charm. He could tell you were close, so so close to giving in, just another nudge and you’d be exactly where he wanted you.

“C’mon, honey, it’s freezin’ out here, promise I don’t bite,” another lie he hid behind a toothy smile he hoped didn’t look like the snarl of a wolf baring its teeth, “been muzzle and house trained since I’ve been a pup.”

You were put at ease with his joking, disarming yourself as you allowed yourself to relax that little bit more.

“Ok, sure.” You were nodding, smiling all polite and grateful at him and Merle had to hide the look of satisfaction that tugged at his features.

“Atta girl,” he praised, barely hiding the purr in his voice, “C’mon in, girly, it's nice and warm in here.”

He stepped back in the doorway, gesturing wide with his arm as he made room for you to walk by, “after you.” He smiled, all charming and pleasant.

You nodded, awkwardly bobbing your head as you squeezed past him, not noticing how he was so obviously eyeing you up and down.

He bit his lip as you walked past him and he got a good view of your ass, the underside or each cheek barely covered by the skimpy costume as your long slender legs wobbled with each step in those ludicrous heels. Merle had to stifle a groan when he saw that your costume had a fluffy white pompom tail right above your butt that bounced with each of your unsteady steps.

He was gonna eat you alive, devour you until you were nothing but a needy begging mess.

“Make yaself at home in the room down the hall, darlin’.” He called after you as he shut the front door behind him before sliding the deadbolt shut, something he didn’t do all too often, but it would help slow down Daryl if he came home early. “I’ll go call ma baby brother.”

Merle made his way into his bedroom, counted a couple seconds, imagining the dial tone of a phone, before launching into his practiced speech, loud enough that he knew you’d be able to hear.

“Hey there, Darleena, how’s it goin’? Uhuh. Yeah ‘bout that we got someone here pickin’ up early. Hmm, yeah. How soon can ya get here, boy? ….. Said she’s happy to wait. Uhuh. Alright. Bye.” Merle would have made a fine career as an actor if he didn’t think that shit was for pansies.

Not only had Daryl never done a deal in his life, his brother didn’t touch half the stuff Merle dabbled in, neither brother even owned a cell. Even if they did, there wouldn’t be any point, as if they’d ever get any signal that far out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. But you didn’t need to know that, you could just keep thinking in that pretty head of yours that Daryl was on its way, which in all honesty he could be, just bearing greasy food and slasher flicks rather than sweet sweet molly.

When he entered the main room he found you stood there, still in that awkward stance you’d adopted since he first opened the door to you, looking entirely out of place in the cramped dingy space. You looked up at him hopefully, a silent question on your face as Merle sighed in mock disappointment.

“Gonna be at least twenty mins, honey, he’s on another deal.” He looked at you with fake sympathy, hoping you’d buy it.

“Oh… ok.” Your shoulders sagged as you tried to hide the disappointment that you’d have to wait another twenty minutes. Merle could see the cogs turning in your head as you debated whether the drugs were even worth it.

Merle was quick to shut that thought down.

“Why don’ ya make yaself comfy, sugar, sit on down and relax. Take a load off.” He gestured to the couch as he made his way to the fridge in the conjoined kitchen unit.

You were eyeing the couch, eyes skimming over the faded discolored patches littering the worn fabric. Merle was well aware the couch was pretty damn nasty, covered in years of unidentifiable stains, it was probably a biohazard at that point. However, not wanting to come across as rude, he watched in delight while you slowly lowered yourself down, perching on the edge of a cushion as you sat bolt upright with your hands clasped in front of you. You looked like you were waiting to be interrogated by FBI, not sat on some sleazy dealer’s couch.

He swung the fridge door open, grabbing two bottles of beer before sauntering back to where you sat stiff on the couch, lazily holding out a bottle in your direction.

“Here ya are, sweetheart, have a drink and make yaself comfortable.” He smiled at you, gesturing with the bottle.

You looked a little surprised at first but then very wary. Huh. You were more guarded than Merle thought, he was really gonna have to take his time with you.

“Oh.. no, that’s ok.” You had your hands up, shaking your head as you politely declined his offer.

But Merle was never a man to give up easy.

“C’mon, honey, it’s Halloween! The night’s young, let ya hair down and have some fun.” He playfully jiggled the bottle in your direction. “I’ll tell ya, molly goes down a lot smoother with a lil beer.”

He watched you curiously as you chewed on your bottom lip in thought, that responsible good girl side of you trying to win, while the thought of letting loose flirted with you.

“Sure, why not?” Merle was surprised when you so quickly changed your tune and accepted the bottle from his hand, perhaps there was a little party in you, something filthy he could lure out of you with the right words.

But then you stiffened up instantly when he plopped himself down right next to you, all heavy grunts and large limbs as he carelessly sprawled himself out on the couch, taking up most of the space. His legs were spread wide and domineering, how he always sat, the side of his leg almost touching yours. He let the hand holding his beer rest by his side while his other strong muscled arm lay on the backrest behind you, not touching but enough to crowd your space, dominant and deliberate.

He couldn’t help but notice the obvious differences between the two of you and thought about how comical the sight of you both sat on the couch together must have looked. There you were, a prim and proper thing, all neat makeup and freshly washed hair, your skin scrubbed clean and smelling of some flowery girly perfume you had spritzed all over yourself earlier that evening. Then right next to you was Merle, a layer of grease staining his jeans and wifebeater, a vest that had once been white and was now a faded yellow, while the only smells he was emitting were from smokes, sweat and motor oil. He couldn’t wait to get his filth all over you. “You, um, you got a bottle opener?” You asked, the nerves in your voice clear as day as you tried to distract yourself from the fast rhythm of your heart Merle was sure must have been pounding. “Nah, no need.” Merle winked at you before he was plucking the bottle from your pretty long fingers and uncapping it with its teeth, spitting the cap out onto the floor in front of him before doing the same with his own beer. You looked both disgusted and in awe of him as he wordlessly handed your bottle back to you. “Thanks,” you laughed, albeit a little awkward, “cool trick.” Merle just hummed in response and he took a big greedy gulp of his beer, sighing in satisfaction as the cool fizzy liquid quenched his parched throat. He didn’t make it obvious but he was watching you, silently observing you from the corner of his eye, content to let the silence between you draw out while your nervous anticipation only grew stronger. One of your knees was bouncing up and down nervously as you sipped at your beer, the movement causing the rabbit ears on your headband to jiggle back and forth until Merle couldn’t take it no more, couldn’t help himself. He swatted at the ears playfully, like a cat might do with a toy, not quite yet revealing he had the claws of a mountain lion, chuckling when you startled in reaction, your whole body jumping. “Ya got a name, sweetheart?” He asked, genuine affection bleeding into his words. You frowned slightly, but there wasn’t much anger in your eyes as you adjusted your headband, saying your name like it was a secret, like you were revealing a deeply intimate part of yourself. “Mmm pretty,” Merle hummed, not missing when your cheeks flushed pink, “and where ya off to dressed up all like that? A party? Or did Hugh lose himself a bunny?” “A party, yeah.” You were avoiding eye contact, as you continued to sip at your beer, something to keep your hands busy. “Somethin’ my friends invited me to, I dunno, could be fun.” But you hardly sounded convinced, maybe that’s why you were banking on the molly to get you through the night.

Merle was really enjoying watching you. God you were young, so young and clueless about the world, it was incredibly amusing to see. You didn’t know shit about partying or life or the big no-no of not accepting a drink from a damn drug dealer. You were lucky Merle wasn’t a monster, that he considered himself a real ladies man, or you could have been in some real hot shit.

“Real bold of ya to dress like that, darlin'. Ya plannin’ on catchin’ a fella?” He winked at you, voice tainted with a leer.

You flushed bright red, but it wasn’t from a compliment this time as your eyes darted to his, suddenly annoyed by what he was implying.

“No. It’s not like that.” You were all sullen, suddenly sulky like a petulant child. “Wasn’t even my idea…” You added in a low grumble.

“That right? Who’s idea was it then?” Merle didn’t stop his teasing, barely getting started and knowing full well he could really get under your skin if he wanted to.

“My friends.” You jutted your chin in the air like what you were saying was somehow important, putting him down and making him look stupid. He could have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t trying so damn hard to get in your panties. “It’s a group costume kinda thing, I didn’t wanna wear this.”

“Well, I ain’t complainin’, sugar.” He had switched up his tone in an instant, doing a complete 180 as he dropped his voice into a sultry low purr, his eyes suddenly intense and ravenous as they hungrily fed off the image of your body.

You were taken aback, that flash of petty flight instantly leaving you as that nervousness consumed your features once again, that nervousness and something else, something new, something different, something curious.

Your eyes were darting between his, back and forth as he leaned in close, not quite yet touching you, not wanting to breach that barrier yet, but enough to crowd your space, to consume your entire attention.

“Ya got a man, sweetheart? Got a man to undress ya all pretty later?” He whispered to you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips.

You looked utterly scandalized by his words, sheer disbelief etched all over your face, like you couldn’t believe a strange man - an older strange man - would so openly flirt with you like it was nothing. However, Merle felt his insides coiling with satisfaction when you didn’t pull away from him, when he noticed the flicker of curiosity behind those seemingly innocent eyes.

Gotcha.

“No...” You breathed out and he could tell you were dancing on the fine line of leaning into what he was giving you or turning tail and bolting out of there, your mind screaming at you to cuss out such a blatant display of sleaze while your body whispered dirty little fantasies to you.

“Why’s that then? Too good for those boys that follow ya ‘round like a lost puppy? Want a fella to show ya what a real ride is?” Merle all but purred, his head cocking as he internally smiled when your breath hitched.

“N-no, I’m not-” You licked at your lips nervously, your eyes constantly flitting all over his intense intimidating face, unsure where to settle while he refused to break his focus on you. “ ‘m not interested in somethin’ like that.”

The smile that slowly pulled at the corners of Merle’s lips was mean and downright condescending.

“Don’ tell me ya savin ya cunt for marriage.” He said lazily before he was leaning back away from you, putting distance between the two of you as he settled back into his spot on the couch, taking a good swig from his beer.

That was his technique. Lean in and out, give and take, like reeling a fish or slowing a startled horse. It all took practice, patience, a specific routine, skittish things like you took time but he knew you’d sure as hell be worth it.

You were gawking at him, shocked speechless by his crude words and he figured he’d hit a nerve, cuz then you were stuttering, stumbling over your own words as you tried your best at a clumsy retort.

“W-well what about you then?” If you thought your voice was anything but a petty warble you were dead wrong. “Since you’re so sure of yourself, where’s Mrs Merle then?”

Merle was just eyeing you from the corner of his eye, amused, nursing his beer and taking his sweet time getting you all riled up.

“Ain’t got a misses.” He shrugged, knowing you’d initially take that as a win.

“Why?” You dropped your voice, drawing out each word in what Merle assumed was an attempt to mimic his heavy southern twang and he fought the urge to slap those bunny ears off your head for it. “Savin’ ya’self f’ marriage?”

“Ya really think a man like me ain’t had ma fair share of female company?” He said it so casually, conversational, as he nonchalantly picked at a suspicious looking stain on the couch that could have very well been from one of his previous exploits. “I jus’ end up movin’ on, sugar,” he had his head laid back against the backrest of the couch before he lazily turned to face you, “ain’t found a lady who can keep up with me yet.” Your eyebrows were furrowed as you watched him with those cautious eyes but he caught the moment your throat bobbed as you swallowed a thick lump in your throat. Fuck, he was so close to getting to you. Just keep push push pushing. He let you stew in your thoughts, let his words sink in, pretending to be mellowed out, all relaxed as he finished the contents of his beer before letting the empty bottle roll to the floor forgotten. He was the picture of relaxed indifference, as if he wasn’t silently watching your every move, gauging your reactions to his prodding. Your delicate fingers were tapping at the edge of the bottle you’d barely touch, peeling at the beer label as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, all while your knee kept bouncing in that jittery way that gave your nerves away. The silence between you was thick and heavy, thicker than the sticky syrupy heat of a summer afternoon, which Merle was all too happy to simmer in, happy to let the tension build and build until it reached boiling point. He could tell it was making you uncomfortable, your fingers furiously picking at the bottle with increasing agitation as you mulled over his words in your mind over and over and over. He knew a creature like you wouldn’t be able to take a man like him all at once, you were like a new horse he’d have to break in, to take his time with you and get you all trained up to take it good and hard. But he’d let you think that you could take him, he’d let you want to take this challenge, want to be the woman who could finally satisfy the lustful beast that was Merle Dixon. He wondered if you were imagining it, imagining all the sordid things he’d do to you, things boys your age could only dream of trying to pull off. He caught the little sneaky bite of your lip and had to stop himself from pouncing on you there and then. “How much?” You finished your question with a deep needy gulp from the bottle in your hands, finally deciding the silence was too much for you. “For the molly.” You clarified when Merle quirked a brow at you. “That’s somethin’ ya need to talk ‘bout with ma baby brother, girly, that’s his job.” Merle tried not to laugh at the thought of Daryl having the brains or balls to deal with the Dixons finances.

“But ya might make it hard for him, darlin’,” Merle continued, his voice dropping ever so slightly as he relaxed further into the couch, his large thighs spreading even further, dominating the space you both shared, his leg so close to touching yours. “He ain’t ever been much of a talker, ain’t good with the ladies, and with y’all dressed like this-” His hand that had been resting on the couch just behind you slowly trailed down towards your neck, before lightly settling on the silky black choker wrapped around your throat. “Ya gonna get him real worked up, honey.” You flinched as soon as his hand made contact with you, a sharp sudden movement that dissolved into a rippling shudder that flooded your entire body. His touch was light but firm enough that you could feel it, hard calloused fingers rubbing along the soft delicate fabric, back and forth back and forth, almost soothingly as your body continued to tremble. He was watching you closely, analyzing every jolt in your body and twitch of your face, searching for any resistance, the first sign of displeasure being his cue to pull away. You were stiffer than a virgin’s pecker at a strip club, whole body tense while your eyes were glued on the bottle you were white knuckling in in your tight grip, that same knee always bounce bounce bouncing. But you didn’t pull away and Merle had to bite his lip when he saw the subtle shift as you squeezed your thighs together. Sweet lord, this was gonna be easier than he thought.

He kept rubbing at your choker, his eyes openly moving over your body and he felt like salivating over the sweet thing he was gonna ruin.

“Ya real somethin’ aincha, sweetheart?” He hummed approvingly, laying it on nice and thick. “Lookit ya all dressed up like that, like candy on the eye, ain’t that right?”

“Stop…” You mumbled, your face all flushed, but unable to resist leaning into his touch when the fingers on your choker stroked up to rub little soothing circles through your hair.

“Sorry, gorgeous, I jus’ need ya to help me understand how a pretty thing like ya ain’t got no man.” His voice was a husky drawl as his other hand reached up to hook under your chin, tilting your head up and towards him, bringing you in real close. Your eyes darted over his face, unsure where to look as he pulled you in closer, holding you still and unmoving until those pretty little irises met steel unflinching gray.

“I know ya ain’t no priss, sugar, ain’t been savin’ yaself for no husband,” he was whispering so low and hushed like you were sharing a filthy secret together, “know ya got some thrill in ya, somethin’ dirty, somethin’ bad.”

You were looking up at him with wide eyes like you were simultaneously absolutely terrified of him and like he was spreading the gospel to you, like he held the key to something you had been yearning for, untold secrets of pleasure and carnal desire that had escaped you all those years you’d fraternized with boys your age.

“Bet ya mama warned ya ‘bout men like me, hmm?” He leered at you, his grip on you tightening, not missing how your thighs had started to tremble. “Told ya ‘bout all the things they’d do to a pretty thing like you. But ya still followed me inside, didn’t ya, sweetheart?”

He grinned when your cheeks darkened in shame at his low taunting words, how he was so easily able to read you like an open book. Oh he so nearly had you where he needed you, just had to push a couple more buttons, and he’d be drinking you up all sweet like root beer.

“Yeah, ya like the thrill, the danger, don’t ya.” His thumb tucked under your chin moved to the plump flesh of your bottom lip, barely touching as he ghosted over the skin, humming with content when your lips slightly parted as if on instinct. “Why else would ya come out here all alone?”

Your eyelids had almost fluttered completely closed and you looked like you were in a daze, captivated by his sinful incessant whispering as he opened you up and exposed you like the pelt of a hunted animal.

“Mike asked me to…” Your voice was barely audible and it sounded like you were more trying to convince yourself than you were trying to convince Merle.

“That right, baby?” Merle purred, grinning unashamed. “Who’s this Mike then? He not your man?” He tilted his head slowly, smirking as your half lidded eyes watched his every move.

“N-no.” You whispered, trying to cling on to any shred of sense you had left to get up and walk away. “A friend, he’s just a friend-” but before you had even finished your sentence Merle was withdrawing both hands from you, leaning away and effectively immediately breaking the tension. He barked out a loud laugh, relishing your expression of bewildered confusion as you blinked at him like you were stunned, the sudden change in tone giving you whiplash.

“Oh, sweetheart, ya gotta keep better male company.” He wheezed, only laughing further at the look of irritated confusion you shot him. “Fella’s too scared of a deal himself so he sends a chick instead and he’s too much of a pussy to fuck her. Who is this guy?”

Your nostrils flared as you got all pissy with him, clearly trying to hide the fact your cheeks were still flushed and your thighs had been damn close to rubbing against each other, slamming your bottle on the floor and crossing your arms.

“H-hey! The hell is wrong with you?” You sounded pissed but he could detect the slight dejected whine behind your tone. “Not that it’s any of your business but he can’t come pickup. His dad’s a cop-”

“Oh that’s even better.” Merle snorted “What? Son of a pig is a damn coward and ya wanna do molly with this fucker? Ya even know what ya playin’ with, girl?”

“We ain’t kids.” You insisted, sneering at him all indignant as if you hadn’t been shaking with nerves around him since he first opened the door on you.

Merle just laughed in your face, knowing he was pushing your buttons and still so close to getting what he wanted.

“May as well be.” Merle met your sneer with his own but it was far more mean and intimidating than your attempt. “Like a bunch of damn teenagers, ain’t got no clue.”

Merle made a point of looking you up and down, acting unimpressed by what he saw. “Y’all don’ know how to drink, y’all don’ know how to get high.” Merle leaned in close to you again, his nose almost touching yours as he held your gaze. “Bet y’all don’ even know how to fuck.”

You scoffed, outraged, deciding enough is enough. The molly wasn’t worth it.

You sprung to your feet, taking one confident step forward to make a scene and storm the hell out of there, but those stupid damn heels would be the end of you and before you knew it your ankle was rolling on the uneven carpet, causing you to lose your footing and send you sprawling face first to the floor.

Merle was on you instantly. He was quick to move into action, moving off the couch and dropping to his knees behind you. One hand was immediately on your hip, keeping it raised, before the other was on the nape of your neck, pushing down until your head was pressed against the floor. His touch wasn’t forceful but it was firm, grounding, a message of power, of control: I'm here and I’ve got you right where I want you.

“Looks like I snared maself a lil bunny rabbit, ain’t I lucky.” He murmured, smug but keeping his voice low enough to not completely rile you up and cause you to bolt again. “What d’ya say? Ya gonna let the big bad man have a taste, bunny?”

He let you breathe, let you adjust to the position you were in, adjust to how quickly he had subdued you, adjust to his hands on your body. He let your mind catch up on itself before he committed to finally absolutely ruining the sweet little critter that had so willingly hopped into his lair.

You were incredibly tense in his grip, a slight tremor pulsing through the entirety of your body as you just lay there still, subdued in his grip, your harsh panting breathing filling the silent space between the two of you, your eyes wide with shock and something else, something Merle knew all too well.

He just held you there, silently, watching and waiting, waiting for that moment he knew he had complete control, that he could finally show you what you so clearly needed.

He felt it in the shift of your hips, when you forced your whole body to relax beneath him, almost going slack, while you let out a long shuddering breath.

He smiled, pleased. Good girl.

He leaned down, his whole body hunched over you as he swamped your smaller form with his broad chest, his mouth so close to your ear he could have easily licked up the shell of your ear.

“I could show ya.” He breathed, not missing when you shivered at his words, his hot breath relentless against your skin. “Drinkin, and drugs and fuckin’.” He squeezed down on the nape of your neck on that last word, delighted at the soft breathy sound that drew from you. “I could show ya it all. I could make ya feel so good, sweet thing, so good ya forget ya own name. Only name ya’ll need to know is Merle Dixon.”

He withdrew slightly, leaning back on his haunches to look down on you, his grip remaining firm and unyielding on you.

“Would ya like that, baby?” He cooed down at you, smiling at the position he had you in.

You were breathing hard and fast, your head reeling from the sudden shift in atmosphere, at how quick he was able to subdue you, at how quick you’d gone from being royally pissed off, from him winding you up, to laying face down, ass up and breathless, all while he whispered filthy little promises. Filthy little promises he knew were starting to wear down your resolve.

It was there, he could see it so clearly, that desperate curiosity to take what he was putting down, to let him use you and pleasure you like no man had before. An older cruel filthy man, one that would fuck you like you were something downright dirty.

“Tell me, girl, the boys ya know,” his hand that was on your neck slowly started to trail down your back, over your smooth bare skin before reaching the fabric of your bodysuit, pleased when you didn’t attempt to lift your head off the floor, “the boys ya let in your bed. The ones that touch, and kiss and fuck ya.” He paused, his fingers toying with the zip on the back of your leotard, smirking when your breath hitched. “They good at it?”

You didn’t reply, just grit your teeth as your body kept trembling, yet still remained pliant in his hold.

But Merle didn’t let up.

He let his hand continue travelling down the length of your spine, never stopping that damn mouth of his, whispering to you filthy delicious secrets that had you arching beneath him.

“They know to make ya beg and scream ‘til ya can’t take no more? They know how to keep ya cummin’ ‘til your pussy’s beggin’ for mercy?” You let out a sharp gasp when his hand circled down the flesh off your ass before roughly grabbing you between the legs, grinding his parm hard against your clothed cunt. “They know how to play with this thing?”

He was leering at you, at the way you were squirming beneath him as he kept grinding firm circular motions against you, at the ridiculous slutty outfit that was exposing so much of you, his own cock hard and aching and twitching with each high little whine you made.

“No? Oh you poor thing.” Merle cooed down at you in mock sympathy, pouting. “Nah, I bet they don’. Bet they’re too much of a sissy to give ya what ya need, too worried ‘bout roughin’ ya up. Bet they leave ya all hung up to dry, all frustrated and needy and desperate for a good hard fuck. Ain’t that right, babygirl?”

He pointed his middle and ring finger, rubbing firm fast circles on where he knew your clit lay beneath that damn costume, relishing the little yelp you let out as he rubbed you deep. Merle could feel how soaked you were even though the fabric, all worked up and gushing for him from just a few simple touches and the words flowing freely from his wicked tongue.

“Nah. Merle knows what ya need.” He snickered before biting his lip, thoroughly satisfied when he noticed the small shift in your hips as you tried to subtly grind back against his fingers, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Ya need a real fuck from a real man, not some limp dick boy,” he pinched you firmly through your clothes, humming when you jolted and let out a cry of surprise, “and if ya ask me real sweet, darlin’, I’ll fuckin’ give it to ya.”

You didn’t reply, just kept trying to grind back against those rough strong fingers he knew were rubbing you so good.

Well that was no good.

He was quick to retract them, biting back a laugh when you whined so high and needy at the lack of contact, your hips shifting back, still trying to seek friction he wouldn’t grant you.

“Wait-” you started to lift your head but he was quick to push you back down, back into position and back into submission.

“Ya want it, baby, ya gotta ask for it.” His voice was a satisfied rumble, he knew he already had you wrapped around his little finger.

You were chewing on your bottom lip, your hands curling and uncurling where they were pressed into the floor just in front of you as your thighs continued to quiver. You were clearly at war with yourself, wanting so bad to give in but that smaller stubborn part of you didn’t want to admit that you needed a man like Merle, that you needed someone like him to show you just how depraved pleasure could be, men you had spent your whole life running from but so desperately craved.

Merle was long past losing his patience with you but he knew how to get you talking.

He’d spent enough time toying with you and needed to get you begging for him, he didn’t exactly have all the time in the world. He’d been lying when he said he knew what time Daryl was getting back, but Merle figured it was true that he didn’t have long, and lord almighty he’d be damned if he didn’t get to play with that sweet cunt of yours because his baby brother cock blocked him.

The hand firmly gripping your hip was sliding over the swell of your ass, right down to your covered crotch, but instead of touching where he knew you so badly wanted, where he knew you needed, he simply started playing with the rest of you, fingers stroking and tracing over your inner thighs, the edge of your folds, your pubic bone, all avoiding the delicious bundle of nerves that lay hidden beneath silky satin. He toyed with you, his fingers tracing torturous gentle patterns all over your intimate area in a way that had goosebumps breaking out all over your skin.

You whimpered with frustration, your hips trying to shift and move into his touch, to guide his hand to where you wanted it, but he didn’t give in, just touching you anywhere and everywhere besides the one spot that would give you relief.

“C’mon, bunny, say it.” He whispered, voice heavy from the coiling lust that was tight in his gut at the sight of you laid out underneath him like that. “Tell Merle what you need.”

You tried to lift your head again but he was quick to push you back down, the hand toying with you giving your rear a firm tap, chuckling when the pompom bunny tail jiggled with the movement.

Oh. Now that was just too darn adorable.

So he slapped you again, harder this time, a firm slap to your rear that had you gasping outloud, your thighs tensing from the impact, all as that cute little tail kept bouncing away. He spanked you over and over, alternating between each cheek until you were a shaking quivering mess.

Perhaps the tenth slap he delivered to your ass had you crying out sharp, a high little ‘ah’ sound, tears welling in your eyes at the prickling stinging sensation. His eyes were drawn from the bunny tail up to your face, where your wet teary doe eyes were looking up at him all sad and coy.

“Hurts…” You sniffled, making Merle want to mount you and sink his teeth into your soft skin from your pathetic expression alone.

Instead he just grinned, his self control once again coming to save him, highly amused by what a mess you were from just a couple of spanks. Man, those college boys really didn’t know how to get a lil rough.

“Well, now, sugar, y’all go ‘head and tell me what ya want or I’ll jus’ keep playin’ with ya ma way,” he finished his sentence with another rough spank to your asscheek, the keening whine you let out like music to his ears, “ain’t a mind reader.”

You had your teeth grit, fists clenched beside you as you did your best to take the pain, your eyes locked onto Merle were surprisingly steady considering the sniffling shaking mess he had you in. But it was with a jolt that Merle realized you weren’t looking at his face, no, his eyes slowly lowered to where your gaze was fixated.

Ain’t no goddamn way.

You were staring at the far from subtle bulge straining the denim of his jeans, staring at it like it was both fascinating and fucking terrifying.

Shit, Merle fucking loved college chicks. Always so easily impressed. After all, no man with a big enough dick was insecure enough to blow a bunch of bucks on some fancy damn college education.

He grinned at you, a real genuine toothy grin as he fought the urge to just straight up burst out laughing at how you were practically gawking at the hard outline of his cock.

“Yeah? See somethin’ ya like, honey?” He drawled, moaning all exaggerated when you bit your lip as he palmed himself through the front of his pants, lazily running a hand over his thick hard erection. “Ask for it real sweet now, and I’ll give it to ya, baby, I’ll give it to ya good.”

To drive his point home he suddenly gripped at your hips with both large hands, his fingers squeezing your soft curves, before he was pressing his groin right up against the curve of your ass.

Your breath hitched, the sudden pressure of his hard cock pressed right up against your rear - right up against your needy desperate core - was as thrilling as it was intimidating, the thin layer of your bodysuit hardly providing an adequate barrier and leaving little to no imagination at just how big he was.

He ground against you with a slow rolling thrust of his hips, pulling you by the waist so you were pressed flush against his aching crotch. His movements weren't rushed, a deep grinding pressure that had you gasping, your hips angling up as you tried to rub your needy little sensitive clit up against him.

Merle allowed it, content to watch you squirm and writhe beneath him, shamelessly rutting back on him as you desperately sought out friction. He told himself he was doing it for you, to get you all worked up and needy so you couldn’t do anything but beg for his cock, but deep down he knew a tight perky ass rubbing up against a dick never hurt no man and he couldn’t help but bite the inside of his cheek at the moan that threatened to spill out from the feeling of you grinding against him.

He felt his balls tighten when a particularly harsh thrust of his hips had you whinnying like a mare and your hips tried to pick up a clumsier faster rhythm.

“Yeah, ya want it don’t ya, bitch.” He breathed, his tone all mean at your pathetic display of neediness and how you were still refusing to beg. “Ain’t felt anythin’ like it, have ya? A real dick from a real man.”

One of his hands quickly left the soft curve of your hips to tangle round your high ponytail, wrapping the strands round his hand as he yanked back, harsh, wrangling you into position and forcing your head to crane back and look at him.

His other hand gripped you hard by the hip, his own hips instantly stilling as he held you firm, refusing to move.

You whined, a pitiful noise at the loss of grinding fiction, your bottom lip trembling like a spoilt child told no.

“Say it.” He grit out through a clenched jaw. “I want ya to say it. Say ya want it.”

You were staring at him all wide eyed, that flighty nervousness never quite leaving you, but the blatant want was absolutely palpable, he could practically taste it, like a gator smelling fresh blood in deep murky water.

“P-please…” Your voice was so damn quiet Merle was pretty sure if he hadn’t been looking at those pretty red lips of yours he wouldn’t have heard you. That, and the way you tried to shift your hips in his bruising hold, trying to grind back against him, that was the final straw.

Merle decided he’d had enough.

The hand on your hair was releasing you, completely unexpected, causing your head to drop to the floor with a satisfying thud as you let out a little huff of pain.

Before you even had time to recover Merle was mounting you, his fist back in your hair as he leant his entire body over you, his other arm snaking around your neck to manhandle you into a chokehold he kept you held tight in, his entire body weight pinning you down.

He held you like that as you tried to steady your breathing, keeping a firm pressure at your throat, not enough to cut off air, but enough to show you that he was the one in control, that he called the shots.

He brought his lips to your ear, delighting in the way you were shuddering in his hold, both alarmed and intrigued by his sudden brute display of dominance, whispering sordid nasty little things that wormed their way into your brain.

“I ain’t one of those boys who’ll fuck ya like a mattress, sweetheart.” He breathed, hot breath tickling your ear and making you shiver. “I ain’t jus’ gonna fuck a pretty face for the hell of it. Ya gotta earn that shit, bunny, ya gotta do what Merle says and I promise,” he paused to graze his teeth at the shell of your ear, itching to bite down hard, “it’ll be worth ya while.”

You were breathing hard, your eyes fluttering in that way they had earlier, clearly overwhelmed and new to being roughed about, to being manhandled and talked to in such a callous unashamed way. It was new, it was jarring, but Merle could tell it excited you.

He kept talking, whispering those sinful little promises to you, making sure you knew this was just the beginning, that he was gonna make you reach new peaks of pleasure you didn’t even know existed.

“Ain’t ya curious, sweet thing? Don’ ya wanna know what a real hard good fuck feels like?” He murmured, his voice like the low growl of a wolf. “I see ya, bunny, I see what ya want. Ya ain’t foolin’ no one actin’ like ya don’ want it. Y’aint no fragile thing. Ya don’ wanna be treated like a lady.”

The forearm braced around your throat squeezed tight, hard enough that your mouth was dropping open in a silent gasp as your eyes rolled back, eyelids sliding shut.

“Ya wanna be fucked like a damn whore.” Then Merle did bite down, hard, right on your earlobe.

And that was enough to make you lose it, your whole body slumping as you fully submitted and told him what he wanted to hear, what you both knew was true the minute you had set foot through his door.

“Y-yes. Yes, I want it, need it please, please.” You were begging, tears of humiliation rolling down your cheeks as you gave up all pretense and dignity while you pleaded at him to show you that sweet delicious hedonism you’d been trying to avoid a whole lifetime. “Wanna- want you to fuck me. Please. Want it so bad, w-want you.”

Merle smiled, a smug lecherous thing as you broke down in front of him. He knew it. He’d known it all along. He was gonna have a real good time breaking you in.

“Now was that so hard?” He hushed, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, the final gentle gesture he’d indulge you with before he absolutely ruined you.

Merle had never been good at keeping his toys clean, after all

[hicktrashspit]

Howdy,

I’m finally back from my trip away so I’ll be back to writing this week, I’ll try and keep updates as regular as I can.

Now that I’ve been posting on tumblr more I’ve been getting quite a few requests! I see them all and I love the ideas you guys have, you really get what I’m putting down.

However, just wanted to say that if I’m slow to get to your request I apologize, I ain’t ignoring you I’ve just got other life shit on - you know how it is.

Please feel free to keep sending any requests and asks, y’all have great ideas, I love seeing them <3

As always, thank you for reading!

[hicktrashspit]

you have no ideia how obsessed i am with your daryl fanfic on Ao3🥲

Thank you, this means a lot!

I remember when I first started writing it was purely a vent piece for me and I was like there’s no way anyone’s gonna like this, but I just published it for the sake of it. Turns out my readers are incredibly sweet <3

[divinityofsin]

Computer, more Merle Dixon x Reader where he is nothing but awful and smelly and terrible but he is an unfortunately good fuck…Quickest route, no mischaracterization....COMPUTER! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!

@hicktrashspit this is an appreciation post for you in particular btw, I adore your writing.

[hicktrashspit]

Y’all are so cute I can’t

[hicktrashspit]

Damn, I’m absolutely crazy about your Merle fics. I’d love for you to hear my plea and write a story with him Idk where, maybe a college girl wants to buy drugs for a Halloween party at night, nervous cause she’s never done it before, but things take a different turn when Merle ends up convincing her to stop fucking with the guys her age and try something new, something more intense something like him

Well shit, anon, did you crawl into my brain and pull this one out? Requests are on a bit of a back burner rn cuz I’m finishing an ongoing series but this one was just too good to pass up.

I’m on a trip outta town currently but I’ve been cooking up ideas, peep back next week for some Merle filth

[hicktrashspit]

They Were all in Love with Dying, They Were Doing it in Georgia - Daryl Dixon / reader Chapter 3

Originally posted on ao3 Chapter two here

Summary: Merle Dixon was, is and always would be a cruel man. He was like a disease, a dark decaying stain that would rot anything it came into contact with. Anyone who stuck around long enough would end up being dragged down to Merle’s sodden level, until whatever good they had left in them was entirely snuffed out.

Daryl knew this. He’d seen it his entire life. Just like he'd seen it happen to you.

How long could Daryl just sit by and watch Merle destroy another life?

-Set before The Walking Dead series from Daryl's POV- Tags / CW: 18+, noncon, referenced / implied noncon, alcoholism, drug abuse, domestic abuse, domestic violence, physical and emotional abuse, referenced childhood abuse, sex under the influence, voyeurism, accidental voyeurism, toxic relationships, unhealthy power imbalance, misogyny, eventual smut, angst, hurt / comfort, hurt / no comfort, young Daryl Dixon, slow burn, Merle is a waning himself AN: As usual please mind the tags! Thank you for the support on here for this fic, it's been kinda strange posting it on tumblr when I've been posting on ao3 since february (I think.) I'm gonna try and work out a better system for formatting chapters cuz the whole fic is currently at 18 chapters and is still going, but I'm real bad at this shit so bear with me!

Chapter 3 - A Woman's Touch

By the time the truck pulled up to the rundown shack Merle called home, you had begun to stir slightly. You were twitching and muttering incoherently, as you held a shaking clammy hand to your forehead, groaning. Your head was clearly fucking killing you. Merle was first outta the truck, wasting no time and eager to kick-start the rest of his night. He grabbed your duffel from the trunk and slung it over his shoulder, whistling nonchalantly as he made his way back to his side of the truck with slow deliberate footsteps. He leaned in, dominating the interior of the car as his eyes raked over your squirming body, large hands circling round your waist. “...we here?” you mumbled as you rubbed at your tired bleary eyes. “That’s right, sweetheart,” Merle hushed at you, all affectionate “Let’s getcha to bed, hmm?” As he dragged you towards him, he looked up briefly and met Daryl’s stare. The dark storm that raged behind his brother’s eyes was undeniable but Merle only smirked, completely unphased, before he hoisted you up into arms, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as he held you bridal style. He kicked the truck door shut behind him calling out “Have a good night, baby brother!” as he headed inside their home. The silence that followed was deafening. Daryl sat stewing in the lingering quiet - the only sound he could focus on was the roaring scream of his blood rushing through his ears. He stared at the rundown bungalow, at the front door that had been slammed shut, locking you inside. He kept staring and staring, nerves twitching on high alert as he tried to work up the courage to take the plunge and do what he knew he had to do, what he should do . He exhaled a sharp breath and threw open the truck door all in one action, marching towards the house on what he hoped weren't shaky legs. But as he reached the front door he paused, all fight leaving his already shot nervous system. Uncertainty crawled through his mind like a parasite, doubt making him question himself.

Could he really do this? What was he meant to do? Storm in and yank Merle off you, play the big hero in what would 100% end with Daryl getting the ever-loving shit beaten out of him? Would it even help or just make things worse? Would him barging in on Merle just aggravate him, add fuel to fire? Would he hurt you as punishment? Do something worse to you that he already had planned? Was Daryl even strong enough to challenge Merle like that? Shame flooded his system at that last question. He ducked his head down as he choked back his shame, his hands that were clenched into fists shook violently and he swallowed, hard. He turned and slowly walked back to the pickup truck with a grim newfound sense of helpless acceptance. He couldn’t do it. The realization made him sick. He couldn’t fucking do it.

Not only could he not stand up to Merle, but he was now choosing to cower away in the truck, unable to face what he could have stopped. He couldn’t stand being in that godforsaken house listening to what Merle was gonna do to you, sharing a wall knowing you were on the otherside with such a vile cruel man. That thought alone made Daryl wonder if he was just as bad as his older brother. He opened the truck door and crept inside, hoping that if he stayed quiet enough it would make all of this less real, that he could pretend he didn’t even exist - he was just a part of the forest around him. He kicked his feet up on the dashboard in an attempt to recline in his seat, hoping he was drunk and exhausted enough to just pass out and avoid the guilt that was threatening to smother him. 

His seated position sent chills up his spine as he was reminded of your earlier actions that day, the way you’d rested your feet against the windscreen in a similar way to how he was now reclined. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get some sleep. He focused on the sounds coming from outside, the sounds of the forest, sounds he was so used to, breathing deeply in an effort to ground himself. He breathed in and out, in and out as he desperately ignored the quiet coward coward coward that repeated like a drone in the back of his mind. -

Daryl woke up the next morning to the sun blaring through the front windscreen and the truck feeling hotter than the depths of hell. The awkward position he had slept in had his back feeling like the time his old man had tried to kick his spine in for stealing some of his smokes. To top it all off, his head was pounding and he was sweating like a goddamn pig at a slaughterhouse. All in all he felt like hogshit. He groaned, kicked open the trunk door and stretched his joints out, each one popping as he extended his limbs. His mouth felt drier than a country club carpet as he realized he was in desperate need of some water. He huffed, hauled himself out of the truck, wincing at how his sweat sodden shirt clung to his back. He peeled it off, pulling it over his head and using it as a makeshift rag to mop at his forehead. Shirt in hand, he made his way towards that doomed crumbling shack, intent on getting some water and then getting the hell on out of there. He was sure you’d be long gone by now - most of the girls Merle had over left way before the sun came up. Whether from shame or the fact he couldn’t afford another hour, it didn’t really make much of a difference; the girls fucked by Merle Dixon never stuck around. But even though he was sure you’d be gone, Daryl didn’t want to hang around the house today. He didn’t want to have to look Merle in the eye that morning, not after knowing what his brother had done - what Daryl had allowed to happen. He didn’t think he could handle the guilt. He pushed through the front door, never locked of course - no one would ever dare try and break into the Dixon household - and froze in his tracks as soon as he was through the doorway. From the tiny crusty kitchenette he and Merle barely used he could hear someone moving about, cutlery and dishes clanging together combined with the mouthwatering smell of sizzling food. His stomach growled. The hell? Had Merle suddenly had an epiphany and decided nutrition was important? Or had he managed to deal his way into enough money to hire some kinda help? What truly stunned Daryl was the gentle melodic humming that accompanied the ambient kitchen clatterings. Sure as shit didn’t sound like Merle. Bewildered, he slowly walked towards the kitchen, apprehensive and unsure as he lingered in the open doorway. He took a deep breath before he poked his head in to find out for himself what the hell was going on. The smell of greasy fried meat caught his nose alongside the bitter stench of coffee, a completely new experience for that filthy kitchen. He wasn’t even sure how to turn on their grease-caked stove, let alone have the decent standard of living to brew a cup of coffee. But what really caught him off guard, what truly shook his entire core, was the sight of you, clad in one of his mama’s aprons she never used, washing up dishes in the sink and softly humming to yourself. He stood there in a daze, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Had Merle spiked him too? Were you just some fucked up drug fueled hallucination? Or had his brain well and truly snapped and he’d finally lost his goddamn mind? He wasn’t sure how long he stood there gawking at you before you finally noticed, peering over your shoulder as your face broke out into a smile. “Mornin’!” Your voice was as bright and cheery as the moment he’d first met you. “How’d you sleep?” Daryl just blinked at you, brain going blank. You brushed past him to grab a couple cracked coffee mugs from a dusty shelf. “Hope ya don’t mind but thought I’d make you boys some breakfast, as a thanks for helping me out, y’know?” You continued your spew of pleasantries as you poured thick syrupy coffee from a cooking pot into dingy stained mugs. 

“I found some cornmeal in a cupboard and an ol’ can of meat so…. Had to improvise but hope you like grits with fried spam!” You gestured to the grimy stovetop with a halfhearted, slightly sheepish pride, but Daryl’s eyes were on the large blooming hickey on the column of your neck as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“The coffee’s from me though, can’t travel without it, always gotta keep some on me - oh, but feel free to have as much as you like, I don’t mind sharin’.” You winked at him. You continued bustling about the kitchen, chatting happily about the breakfast you’d been making, throwing questions in Daryl’s direction that he could barely acknowledge, acting like he didn’t look like he’d seen a goddamn ghost. Nope. Not a hallucination. Real very much real. Very much real and talking to him. As Daryl's eyes followed you around the kitchen, he couldn’t help but wonder how the hell this was all happening? Why were you acting like this? So calm, so relaxed, so cheerful.

You didn’t seem upset like he thought you’d be, all confused and anxious and questioning what had happened last night. You seemed ok. Better than ok. 

He didn’t think he’d be seeing you at all that morning but on the off chance you’d slept late in Merle’s bed he at least expected a quiet quivering mess. But you seemed fine… more than fine, you seemed happy. Were you really that ok with what Merle had done? Daryl had heard about women who enjoyed illicit one night stands, women who liked to be tied down and treated rough. Was that what you liked? Had you played into his brother’s game deliberately? Sought out his attention so you could chase some kinda high?  Or had he misjudged Merle? Maybe he had just taken you to bed, let you lie down while he gently held you as he lulled you to sleep. Maybe all he genuinely wanted was for you to have a safe place to sleep while you sobered up. That thought almost made Daryl snort outloud. Yeah, right. He knew his brother way better than to entertain that fantasy. As Daryl attempted to figure you out he tried to ignore the comment you said to him yesterday at the dive bar; the comment that had his stomach twisting with doubt as you cheerfully flitted about that tiny kitchenette, unbothered: Been on my own for a damn long time. “You want me to wash that for you?” you pulled him right out of his thoughts, cocking your head and directing his attention to the balled up shirt in his hand. “Uh… huh?” Was all he could stutter, still in shock at the whole scene playing out before him. 

Daryl was pretty sure he’d never seen a woman cooking in that kitchen, not even his mama. It was surreal, it was like a hallucination, it felt wrong.

“Your shirt, want me to wash it? I gotta lot of clothes myself that need doin’ so I could do some laundry or somethin’, you guys got a tub?” It was only then that Daryl remembered he was shirtless. 

A flood of embarrassment hit him in waves and he hurriedly yanked the sweat stained shirt back over his head. 

“ ‘m fine, don’ worry about it.” He muttered. 

“Alright, suit yourself.” You shrugged and instead gestured to the old rickety garden furniture in the centre of the room “Well sit your ass down then, boy! Almost got breakfast ready.” Hesitantly Daryl lowered himself into a rusty metal chair as you set a mug of coffee down in front of him. He cleared his throat before asking the question that had been plaguing his mind since he’d first seen you that morning. “You…. er… y’alright?” He peered at you from the corner of his eye awkwardly, waiting. Your back was to him and you were busy spooning grits into a bowl when he saw you freeze for the briefest of moments, shoulders tensing as your entire body went rigid. 

A beat passed. Daryl’s body was alight with anticipation but as quick as it happened, you relaxed again and turned round to greet him with a bright smile. “I’m alright! Little hungover is all but don’t think I'm as bad as Merle.” You laughed, oblivious as Daryl internally flinched at the mention of his brother’s name. “Speakin’ of, he said it’s ok for me to hang around here for a couple days, if that’s cool with you? I need a place to stay while I figure out where to sell around here, yknow, gives me a base while I get back on my feet.” You placed the bowl of grits in front of him offering a kind smile that almost reached your eyes, almost. 

“Besides,” you sauntered back to the stove to retrieve the greasy sizzling slices of processed meat “Merle said this place could use a woman’s touch!” 

- Daryl knew what a couple days meant: you wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. Once Merle got his hands on something, he wasn’t one to let it go easy. 

He was possessive and controlling over what he saw as his property and the problem was Merle liked you - really liked you - that much was very clear. 

Daryl saw it in the way Merle’s eyes would follow you round the house as you did your little housewife duties, fetching him beer, picking up his shit after him, cleaning his pipe and hopelessly rustling up any kind of homecooked meal you could scrounge from their non-existent pantry. Merle would watch all of this with a sick look of smug satisfaction slapped across his face, pleased with your obedience and willingness to please him. 

Daryl was almost sure that watching a pretty little thing like you follow his every order got Merle’s rocks off. So, sure enough, days became weeks and weeks soon turned into a month. Merle had been able to sweet talk you out of any dreams you’d had of selling your art on the road, promising to provide for you, keep you safe under his roof cuz he loved you baby - really he did - all he asked was that you do a lil cleaning every once in a while then bend over and take it hard and fast whenever he wanted. In the first few weeks you started living with the Dixons, Daryl kept a wide berth from you. He didn’t want to risk getting attached. It was damn near pointless to feel any kind of pity for you as he waited for Merle to drain the remaining good out of your life as he eventually wore you down. He avoided you like a rabies shot, barely acknowledging you round the house and spending hours upon hours in the woods hunting. That shack had never seen so much fresh game; slings of squirrels and rabbit that he’d dump on the counter with a dismissive grunt, ready for you to skin and stew up for their supper. The bizarre domesticity of your role in their home made Daryl sick. He couldn’t understand why you were so content playing house for such a scumbag like his brother. It was better for his own peace of mind to just pretend like you weren’t there, that the woman Merle had drugged up and forced himself on wasn’t throwing her entire life away, acting like their living environment wasn’t anything but fucked. 

However, unfortunately for Daryl, you didn't make it easy for him to avoid you. 

You’d often linger by him when he was loading up his bike for another hunting trip, asking him about the different bolts he’d use for his crossbow, about tracking, fishing; anything you thought would get him talking. 

It had royally pissed him off at first. He figured you were just bored, perhaps a little lonely, as Merle spent most of the day either passed out or high out of his mind and Daryl was the only other form of company in their isolated home. If he was being honest with himself, he had started to fucking resent you. You weren’t born a Dixon, you weren’t branded with his family name and given a life-sentence of being a no-good waste of space like him and his brother. You were actively choosing this lifestyle, could have gotten out when you still could, actually done something with your life, but instead you were stuck playing wife dress-up for Merle. Daryl didn’t get it. You didn’t seem that stupid, were you just that damn naive, that lonely? 

Was that it? You needed attention that bad? 

Yeah. That was probably it. You were just a dumb lil girl wanting entertainment from the first couple of rednecks who’d looked your way.

But no matter how hard Daryl tried to avoid you, it seemed near impossible. You were persistent, unbearably so, as you kept at it; asking him about his day, his recent hunt, even about his childhood - a topic of conversation Daryl would swiftly shut down. He couldn’t pin you down or figure you out. It wasn’t like you were just talking to him for the sake of company, it was like you were actually interested and all he could think was… why? Surely this wasn’t the kind of shit girls wanted to talk about.  

But yet you wouldn’t let it go; question after question, patiently waiting for his guarded responses and you’d remember, you actually remembered, what he’d tell you - the small little details as you absorbed his every word - you seemed genuinely engrossed in what he had to say. He would never forget the day he walked into the kitchen early one morning, hungover as shit, to find you already up and unpacking groceries. 

You’d rode Daryl’s old pushbike into town, perhaps an hour and a bit cycle, using whatever loose change you had cobbled together out of Merle’s stash to try and replenish their cupboards. 

He’d initially responded to your idle chatter like he normally did, with non-commital grunts and single word answers until you were handing him a package of greaseproof paper. 

He had stared at it, confused and slightly dubious. “Whut’s this?” his voice was still rough from sleep and dehydration. “Chicken livers,” you smiled “butcher gave me a good deal cuz they’re gonna go bad. You said you’d seen some big catfish down by the lake, right?” Daryl was stunned. You remembered him talking about the fish, remembered him saying which bait worked best for them, greasy meaty and stinky he’d said. You’d gone out of your way to look for some suitable meat for him, knowing the bait he’d been using hadn’t been landing him any luck. It was a simple gesture, small really, but he couldn’t deny the way it made his cheeks feel warm and his heart swell. He felt listened to, heard, something he certainly wasn’t used to. He felt like someone actually cared about what he had to say. An unfamiliar, dangerous feeling. 

“Thanks.” He’d croaked out and he meant it, he really did. He wanted you to know that he appreciated it, appreciated you and what you did to try and make their house a home, but like usual his words failed him.

You just winked at him and gave him a pinch on the cheek that he swatted away, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

It was like the roles reversed after that. 

Daryl found himself wanting to spend more time with you. 

Hanging around the kitchen while you cooked and cleaned, offering to help you out with gutting the catches he’d bring home, letting you watch as he walked you through the process of skinning an entire buck. 

He often didn’t talk much during his interactions with you. He was never much of a talker to begin with, finding it especially hard to talk to girls. He wasn’t like his brother, a sweet-talker full of smarmy pride and confidence. He was quiet, withdrawn and contemplative, years of distrust silencing him. So he’d let you lead the conversations, content with letting you guide the interactions with one another. You didn’t seem to mind, his silence didn’t bother you like it did with so many others. You were sweet like that, kind, caring and unjudgemental. Daryl wondered what he had done to be given a second chance. To be shown that there were still good people left in this piss sodden world. He knew he was in trouble though, he wasn’t completely deluded. 

He knew he was in trouble by the way he craved your smile and laughter, seeking out your praise and words of encouragement at his hunting successes. 

Knew he was in trouble in the way he’d hold his breath and try not to lean into your touch as you wiped dirt and dried blood from his sweat slickened skin after a long stint in the woods. 

Knew he was in trouble when his eyes remained glued to you, following your every move, even with Merle around.

He tried to tell himself it was nothing, that he just enjoyed the extra company. 

That it was nice to talk to someone who wouldn’t belittle him every goddamn chance they’d get.

You were a friend, that’s all, and Daryl hadn’t really had many of those, so it made a nice change. 

That’s what he told himself when he lay awake each night listening to you and Merle in the room next door. 

The mattress squeaking under your combined weight, headboard slamming rhythmically against the wall while Merle grunted and panted as he fucked into you. 

Daryl would lie there in the dark, stomach twisting as he gnawed on his thumbnail, willing for it to be over. 

He’d heard Merle screwing chicks since he was a kid, his brother wasn’t exactly quiet about it, subtlety was never his strong suit. 

Although the sounds of Merle getting his dick wet grossed him out, it had never bothered Daryl this much before. 

The fact Merle had you in there under him changed it completely. 

He’d feel cold nauseating dread churning in the pit of his gut as he tried to shut out the fucked up shit his brother was groaning out.

But then he’d hear you, your voice ringing out over the crass stream of obscenities Merle was spewing at you. 

Your voice was soft, sweet and needy, almost melodic. 

Your gasps and moans would grow higher in pitch until Daryl would feel himself hardening in his pants. 

The shame would overwhelm him as he tried to block out the sounds of your pleasure, gripping his hard weeping cock and squeezing his eyes shut as he desperately waited for the eventual sounds of Merle’s snoring to signal it was finally over. Yep. You were just a friend. Totally normal.

Just a friend, as if images of you naked and writhing, moaning out for him, didn’t haunt his dreams. Just a friend, as if his heart wouldn’t clench in agony whenever he witnessed Merle touching you, kissing you, holding you.

Just a friend as if Daryl wouldn’t hang the damn moon for you. 

Like you weren’t the only person who actually listened to him, made him feel good about himself, as if the shit he did was actually worth something. 

Like you weren’t the only person to make him feel whole. But you weren’t his. You were Merle’s.

So Daryl shoved any lingering feelings far back into the dusty recesses of his mind, refusing to recognize or even acknowledge them. It was fine. It was normal.

Just a friend. You were just a friend.

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HIII im so in love with your daryl x reader fic i swear that fic is in my top fav now i cant wait for the next chapter on ao3 i just want them to be happy😭😭

Thank you lovely anon! Honestly this fic has been consuming my brain for so long so all the kind comments are healing me ! I apologize for the most recent bleak chapters I know they’re rough… but stay tuned friend, things are happening 🫶

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holy cow…ur Merle fics, I’m literally screaming. Your imagination is so good in the best way possible! 10/10 cross the boards!!

Thank you, friend! I just know that if this man was real I would absolutely despise him but unfortunately his flirting would definitely work on me… and I hate myself for that! What is it about sleazy men?

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They Were all in Love with Dying, They Were Doing it in Georgia - Daryl Dixon / reader Chapter 2

Originally posted on ao3 Chapter one here Summary: Merle Dixon was, is and always would be a cruel man. He was like a disease, a dark decaying stain that would rot anything it came into contact with. Anyone who stuck around long enough would end up being dragged down to Merle’s sodden level, until whatever good they had left in them was entirely snuffed out.

Daryl knew this. He’d seen it his entire life. Just like he'd seen it happen to you.

How long could Daryl just sit by and watch Merle destroy another life?

-Set before The Walking Dead series from Daryl's POV- Tags / CW: 18+, noncon, referenced / implied noncon, drink spiking, alcoholism, drug abuse, domestic abuse, domestic violence, physical and emotional abuse, referenced childhood abuse, sex under the influence, toxic relationships, unhealthy power imbalance, misogyny, eventual smut, angst, hurt / comfort, hurt / no comfort, young Daryl Dixon, slow burn, Merle is a waning himself AN: I'm trying to figure out an upload schedule for tumblr that's not irritating af while also trying to figure out the layout of my account. I am HOPELESS when it comes to social media! I grew up on a farm! Please always mind the tags and thank you for reading, friends.

Chapter 2 - Nothin’ like Family

Daryl sat opposite you and Merle, eyeing the both of you wearily as he shifted on the uncomfortable tattered bar stool. He took a deep long swig of his tepid piss-tasting beer, grimacing at the taste. There wasn’t enough booze in the world to drown out the everpresent dread in the pit of his stomach. Merle had successfully gotten you absolutely wasted. Making you keep up pace with both Dixon brothers - men double your size - was just damn right mean. But he was hardly surprised, Merle never played fair. You were six beers deep and clearly feeling the effects of it, stuttering and slurring over your words. That wasn’t even counting the flask of goddamn moonshine Merle had in his boot which he kept pressing to your lips, encouraging you to take a sip, his arm wrapped tightly round your waist, holding you close. You had at first been reluctant to drink so much, let alone take a swig of the flask, complaining that you weren’t much of a drinker. Famous last words Daryl had thought morbidly. Admitting to Merle that you were a lightweight was basically a death wish. He knew his brother wouldn’t drop it until he’d seen you sink at least a couple of beers, loosening you up. Now you were a giggling tipsy mess, no longer stiff and awkward or trying to brush off Merle’s wandering hands as he let them slide and rest on your back, your hips, your thighs… patting and squeezing your curves in all the places he knew Merle liked. Daryl had pretty much stayed silent during their arduous trip to the bar, just hoping to get through it as quick as possible before the inevitable happened. Not that it was hard to stay quiet, any attention you directed towards him was quickly shut down by Merle, wanting your attention solely for himself; offering to buy you another drink, paying you compliments, asking with so much sincerity about your travels. Daryl told himself it was better that way, best not to get attached to the girls Merle ruined - a grim and bleak thought that numbed his brain as he watched you take another hit from Merle’s flask.

By the time Merle left to take a piss, Daryl was just about ready to blow his brains out, the guilt of what was unfolding in front of him was almost too much to bear. Neither of you spoke after Merle left, conversation immediately dying down as Daryl focused his entire attention on the beer bottle in his hand, sloshing the liquid back and forth, stewing in the awkward silence. He spared a glance at you from the corner of his eye and was surprised to see your mood had shifted. You stared into space, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you seemed lost in thought. He wondered briefly if the booze had hit you harder than you anticipated, maybe you were concentrating on trying not to puke or something. Your silence unnerved him though and he couldn’t help himself by clearing his throat, grabbing your attention. Your eyes slid to his own, catching him watching you and like muscle memory your wide smile slotted back into place easily, as if on instinct. “Your brother’s so funny,” You half yelled over the bar’s blasting speakers, leaning over the table for him to better hear you. “Can’t believe this is the only bar that’ll serve him,” you laughed. “Yeh, well.” Daryl only muttered. He didn’t think you’d find it so funny if Merle had told you the REAL reason the Dixons couldn’t show their faces at half the establishments in town, not the cool sugar-coated bad boy bullshit Merle had fed you. “Don’t s’pose you get in much trouble yourself?” You smiled at him, teasing. Daryl’s face flushed and he ducked his face down, not offering you any kind of response. He felt bad, you were just trying to be nice, make conversation despite the fact he was sure you could pick up on his shy unease at being left to talk to you. 

He preferred when you were talking with Merle, a flirty messy girl who hung on his brother’s every word. That version of you was easier to ignore, easier to hate, drowning out the roaring stream of guilt that pulsed through his veins at what his own flesh and blood was capable of doing to girls like you. “I wanted to thank you again. You both really helped me out today.” Daryl winced as you continued talking, trying to coax a conversation out of him. “I don’t - I mean- I don’t have many people to rely on y’know? It was a relief to see some friendly faces for once. It’s good you two are so close.” You were opening up to him, tongue loose from the alcohol, and he had no clue what to fucking do. He kept silent, didn't say anything, COULDN’T say anything. It was too much. Having you talk to him so honestly, confide in him while he just sat there knowing the deep shit you’d got yourself in. “It’s nice seeing family be there for each other, knowing that you’ve got each other’s backs.” Daryl wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you roughly, yell in your face that Merle was a goddamn manipulative liar that had you wrapped around his little finger with his tough protective older brother act. His hands clench around the bottle he was holding, fingers twitching, itching to shake some damn sense into you as he tried to refocus his breathing. “Feels like it’s been a long time since I’ve relied on anyone for anything. Been drifting for the past couple years.” You hummed, deep in thought as you spilled your thoughts, baring all to Daryl. “It always feels good to make friends, connections. Been on my own for a damn long time.” That. That was it. The admission that you were alone. Those few words were going to be your death sentence. Daryl had a horrible suspicion that you were alone in life when he’d seen you by the side of the road earlier that day. A solitary drifter that wouldn’t be missed or wouldn’t have anyone to help if things ever went south. But he had hoped - foolishly optimistically hoped - that you were just some spoiled runaway whose mommy and daddy would whisk away home at the first sign of trouble. Or that you were some college chick with a group of friends who’d be out looking for you, expecting to see you selling your crafts by the side of the road, waiting for you at your next location. But no. You had no one. That made you vulnerable, that made you unprotected, that made you easy prey - which in turn made you very VERY desirable to a man like Merle. He couldn’t know. Merle. Couldn’t. Know. “Daryl,” He jumped out of his skin, stiffening as one of your hands came to rest on the one white-knuckling his beer “you ok?”. Blue eyes darted to meet yours, his heart twisting in his chest as you smiled softly up at him. “You really don’t talk much, huh?” It wasn’t mean, just a quiet observation. An acknowledgement that you didn’t mind his silence, if that’s what made him comfortable. Your name leaving his lips surprised the both of you, but he pushed on before he could hesitate - before his confidence died down like it always did, scurrying away to lay dormant in the back of his moral compass. “Ya need t’ leave.” His voice was hushed, hurried and urgent. “I can get ya shit from the truck, just get outta here.” You were confused, leaning away as worried eyes searched his, trying to make sense of him. “What? What are you sayin’? You don’t want me here?” You removed your hands from his but he reached out suddenly, halting your movements as his hands enclosed back around yours. Clutching tight and serious. “We ain’t got the time. Jus’ leave, now.” He was painfully aware Merle could return at any second. He just had to get you out of there. He swallowed down the nerves that spiked at being in such close proximity to you and looked you dead in the eye. 

“Promise it’s for the best, jus’ trust me. Please” He pleaded with you, tried so hard to get you to understand him, to see reason. But you were drunk. Really, really drunk and confused. He was just making you nervous as your eyes darted round the bar, looking for Merle. “Jus’ listen to me, it’s better this way.” He squeezed his hands over yours for emphasis “Ya can sneak on right through that door, Merle don’t need to know-” “Well look at you gettin’ all friendly with lil Darleena over ‘ere!” Merle’s voice was like ice in his veins as Daryl’s expression paled, immediately yanking his hands from you. “What wassit you two was talkin’ ‘bout, all cuddled up and snug over here?” Daryl could feel the hard threatening stare of his brother’s glare directed toward him but he kept his head down, unable to meet his loathsome accusatory gaze. You were still bewildered and slightly unnerved by Daryl’s sudden shift in mood, by his raw intensity, as you struggled to find your words, seemingly relieved that Merle had returned. “Family.” you eventually said, smiling up at Merle.  “Jus’ talkin’ about family.” Daryl was relieved you hadn’t just ratted him out to Merle for acting all weird, but it was a shortfelt relief as Merle was already establishing his dominance, leering at you possessively. “Family, huh?” Merle grunted. “Well ain’t that sweet.” He settled on his stool next to you, once again wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close against him. He eyed Daryl with a look that read Back off. Mine. “Can’t survive with no family now, hmm? Ain't nothin' like it.” He grinned at you as you hummed in agreement. Daryl chugged the rest of his beer before stalking outside for a well needed smoke. As he headed out front he spared another glance over his shoulder at you, where you were nuzzled into the crook of Merle’s neck, laughing at one of his jokes.

He was already mourning that sweet smile of yours, his own lips pressed firm with the grim acceptance that you were already lost. 

-

By the time Merle called it a night you could barely stand straight. He had you under one arm, whole body leaning against him as you clutched onto his filthy vest for balance. You stumbled in his grip, legs wobbling and crossing in front of one another as you tried to maintain your balance. “Woah, darlin’, easy now.” He laughed, squeezing you against him, “We’d best be getting you to bed.”  “I don’t… I ain’t got no place to stay… need ta figure it out.” You mumbled, words tangling and slurring together. “Well, sweetheart, that ain’t no problem. Ya can stay with us - free of charge.” He winked at you. Daryl watched as your brow furrowed, the gears in your head slowly turning through the thick fog of cheap beer and lethal moonshine. “I dunno… I’m not… I don’t-” You could barely string a sentence together. “Dunno tha’s a good idea…” You were suddenly unsure of yourself, squirming under Merle’s firm hold on you as you attempted to pull away from him. He anticipated your desire to bolt and was quick to tighten his grip, bringing his other hand to cup the side of your face, his thumb rubbing slow reassuring circles on your cheek. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, sweetheart, it’s alright.” he hushed you, planting a soft kiss to your temple that had Daryl turning away in disgust. “We just wanna make sure you got some place to rest your pretty lil head, sugar. Lotta bad men out there.” The irony of his words wasn’t lost on Daryl as he listened to his brother continue to coax you down from your uncertainty. He was soothing your nerves, voice soft and docile, so unlike Merle’s usual rough spew of obscenities. Daryl’s head spun, nerves buzzing as you eventually mumbled something that sounded like resigned acceptance, nodding in agreement. Merle grinned with satisfaction as he started hauling you towards the exit while Daryl followed silently behind. “We got a real cozy couch, honey, you’ll be sleepin’ like a baby soon” he whispered to you, raising his voice as he barked over his shoulder in Daryl’s direction “Or you could always take Darleena’s bed. He don’ mind the floor.” -                                                                                                                           

The drive back was silent to begin with. It was way after sunset as they drove quietly through the now dark dirt roads. You had initially protested when you realized Merle’d be driving, clearly not used to the Dixon tradition of driving wasted, but the dizziness and desperate need for a bed soon clouded any clear judgement you may have had. You were squeezed between the two brothers once again, but this time you were fast asleep. Daryl sat tense and rigid as your entire body leaned against his strong arm, head resting on his shoulder. He could feel your warm soft breaths against his skin as you breathed deep and heavy in your sleep. He clenched his jaw when he felt you nuzzle into his skin, seeking warmth and comfort in your pacified state. He kept his gaze focused out the window as Merle concentrated on the road, sometimes veering off course before correcting himself with a muttered curse. He was way too drunk to be driving this fast. When Merle hit a dip in the road, the whole truck lurched, jostling your position which caused you to slip forward, head falling into Daryl's lap and landing with a muffled sleepy groan. Your change in position had his thighs going rigid, whole body alight with adrenaline before he forced himself to settle. He dared to peek down at you, at your head resting in his lap, dyed hair fanning out over his thighs. Daryl had been avoiding looking at you too long the whole night and, whenever he stole a glance toward you, was immediately distracted by your shitty dye job and shining nose ring. So Daryl looked at you this time, really looked, eyes raking over your features and soaking in every detail. You were young, that much was clear. Silky, smooth features not yet marred from time, besides the small creased lines around your eyes caused from years of smiling. You were pretty, he realized, real pretty. Delicate long lashes kissing your skin, sweet plump lips that were parted open in sleep, pinched apple cheeks flushed and rosy from booze. Everything about you was so soft, lovely and feminine, a complete contrast to the nightmare who had hauled you into his truck and was driving you further and further away from hope. Merle caught Daryl looking, a wicked grin alighting his features. “Now what’s on ma baby brother’s dirty mind, I wonder?” he smirked. “Ya wanna have a taste of her, that it?” Daryl didn’t break his gaze away from you, watching your chest slowly rising and falling with each peaceful breath you took - unaware of where you were. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. “She don’ got a choice where she sleeps, does she?” His voice was quiet.

“Think she made that choice by clingin’ to ol’ Merle all night” Merle grinned, all smug and cocky. “So what? You put somethin’ in her drink? Get her all liquored up and make her need ya?” Daryl could feel his cheeks growing hot as his temper peaked, venom lacing his voice. “The hell you sayin’, brother?!” Daryl could tell he was pushing his luck, that Merle was close to snapping, but, hell, he had to at least try. “I’m sayin’ I think ya should leave her be ‘til she’s sober enough to know her own damn name” he spat. Merle laughed once, a humorless, bored laugh. “What? Ya think I’m forcin’ her?” He shook his head in disbelief. “That bitch knew what was comin’ the minute she stepped foot in ma truck. Fuckin’ actin’ all innocent, while walkin’ around dressed like that, showin’ off what her damn mama gave her. Chicks like that live to be fucked, baby brother. Hell, I’m sure she’d even spread ‘em for you if you asked, Darleena-” “She’s DRUNK!” Daryl yelled, the vehemence in his voice shutting Merle up instantly. “She jus’ wanted help, man, and ya got her fuckin’ shitfaced. She can’ t even stand. If you do somethin’ to her now, you ain’t no better than dad. Jus’ let her sleep. Please.” He hadn’t meant for his plea to come out so desperate, but Merle had caught it, caught him in his weakness. Of course he had.

He slammed on the brakes, the truck coming to an abrupt halt. Before Daryl could react Merle had his head shoved back against the window, fingers weaving into his hair as he pulled hard, locking Daryl into place. You stirred beneath them at the sudden harsh movement, sighing softly in your sleep - in complete blissful ignorance. Daryl winced as Merle tugged on his hair rough and unrelenting, his scalp on fire, forcing himself to meet Merle’s furious eyes.

“You some kinda saint now, huh?” Merle's voice was mean, face pushed up against Daryl’s own, his rancid breath fanning across his skin. “Little brave Darleena wanna rescue some road whore, hmm? Wanna tell her how you saved her from big bad ol’ Merle so she gets on her knees and sucks your cock? That it?” Daryl was breathing in shallow panicked breaths as Merle tightened the grip on his hair, shoving him further into the window pane. He wanted to speak, to spit in Merle’s face, call him a disgusting sleazy pervert but his throat was clamming up, tightening around nothing and all he could do was swallow thickly, gasping out in pain at the pressure of his temple pressed against glass. Merle breathed out a cruel laugh. “Always knew you had a thing for pathetic lil girls.” Daryl closed his eyes, anger, humiliation and fear coursing through his veins. He was soberly and painfully aware of the situation he was in. Aware of his brother’s fingers tugging on his hair. Aware of the woman lay sleeping in his lap, aware of the help she needed from him, aware that he had let you walk into Merle’s little game with no warning. Aware that he could have got you out if he had just tried damn harder. But that scared little boy, the one who grew up terrified of his daddy which later bled into a deep rooted fear of Merle, left him paralyzed. “Look at me.” Merle shook Daryl’s head, forcing him to crack open his eyes, bright blue meeting steely grey. “You know how things work, lil brother. I’m the one who ever gets us any money and I’m the one who owns that damn house. I let you live under my fuckin’ roof, and all I ask for in return is that you keep your damn mouth shut and do as your told.” He pressed even further into Daryl, noses almost touching. “So if i want to fuck a nice piece of ass, I’ll damn right do so and you’ll keep quiet.” He paused before a sick laugh escaped his mouth “Hell if I told you to fuck her yourself, you’d best fuckin’ do it. You understand, baby brother?” Daryl’s eyes flickered down to you still sleeping in his lap, blissfully unaware of what was unfolding mere inches above you. He said a silent prayer for forgiveness, hoping that you wouldn’t hate him for the rest of your life as he gave in to Merle. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded stiffly. Merle smiled and released Daryl’s head, reclining back in his seat. “Good.” he breathed, pleased with himself “Glad we understand each other.” Before he started the truck back up, Merle rested a hand on your thigh, squeezing hard to drive home the fact that you were his property. He slid his calloused fingers up your leg, towards your stomach before he reached your breast which he gave a firm squeeze, eyes catching Daryl’s as he rubbed a thumb over your nipple. Daryl tore his gaze away, huffing out an angered shame fueled breath as he tried to drown out the sound of Merle’s cackles as his brother revved the engine back to life, peeling down dirt roads. Daryl closed his eyes as he steadied his breathing. He tried to tell himself it was alright. He didn’t know you. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. You were like any other barfly that Merle picked up. You came in the truck willingly, his brother wasn't a monster, you’d have fun. It was alright. It was alright. But the more his thoughts spiraled the more the pit in his stomach grew tighter and tighter until he thought he was gonna throw up again. He knew he was fucking kidding himself. He looked down at you once more, at your peaceful sleeping face and had to bite his lip to stop himself from screaming out in red hot anger. Instead he let his hand rest on the hair that lay splayed across his thigh. He ran his fingers through the choppy strands, softly, soothingly as he repeated in his head It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s gonna be alright. You’ll be alright.

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hiiii, when's the next chapter of ur daryl × reader fic? TvT I've become quite addicted to it

Trust me it’s on the way! This fic takes up so much of my brain, I’ve been writing it for months, but now it’s summer I’ve been spending most my time outside or seeing friends 🌲 whenever I mention this fic to anyone I know they’re like we don’t care lol

I’ve got most of the next chapter written but it’s goddamn horrid and sad (as if the others haven’t been already) so working on it has been a doozyyyyy

I plan on getting it out mid next week so stay tuned! Thank you for reading, friend! I appreciate you <3

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New chapter is UP on ao3! For my few tumblr readers 🫶 I don’t think it’s an update y’all want tho…. I’m sorry

[grimesarchive-deactivated202607]

norman reedus

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The Daryl in my fics looks a little like this