。 🧷ׄ ⠀ ❛ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧. . . piv. language. idfk sub daryl?. my first attempt at writing something like this, this randomly came to my mind while i was watching the show. please be nice, i will literally throw up.
{💭} 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓. . . him managing to fuck himself into a pussy haze isn’t an odd occurrence, he even babbles at you mindlessly. your cunt is so warm and wet, how could he not. you felt like pure heaven to him, one that allowed respite away from the harsh realities of an apocalyptic world.
“o-oh fuck, s’ tight,” he moans, his voice sounding like gravel as he keeps a sloppy rhythm. his gaze focused on where your tits bounce with every thrust, nipples slick with spit. daryl’s head spins, cock throbbing inside your gummy walls trying to fight off his release. he wants—needs—you to cum before he does, ladies first always. “you close?” he’ll offer you, like his balls aren’t on the verge of emptying in you. his fingers clutch at your hips like a lifeline, never wanting to be far from you.
daryl who prattles, “fuckin’ obsessed with your pussy,” his eyes just as glassy as yours. It's like he can’t control the words leaving his mouth, saying things he wouldn’t normally say. his cock buried to the hilt, stuffing you full of him as your cunt practically strangles him. “please, baby, please cum,” he whines, pressing his face into your neck—his skin heated and sweaty from his relentless strokes. an almost pathetic whimper falling from his lips when he spills his load in you before you finish.
I’m a little high rn and all I can think about is mean manipulative Daryl…. So enjoy.
Also I’m writing a bite sized for gentle reader rn too cause Mean Daryl is on the brain. (Spoiler it is no longer gonna be a bite sized and is going into oneshots)
Also I’m high so no editing, if parts aren’t making sense that’s why.
Smut ♥︎. Dark ✄ (for dub con)
TW: NSFW, smut, female sex organs, unprotected sex, mean dom Daryl, gagging, manipulative behaviors, dacryphilia, dubious consent. Read at own risk.
🦷Daryl will purposely talk over you, undermine you, and scoff when you try to share your ideas watching as you slowly lose confidence in yourself.
🦷Daryl who will go into your tent to try and find things he can use against you to keep you embarrassed. Lucky for him he’s seen you write in that stupid diary of yours.
🦷He’s purposely leaving your tent a mess as he digs through your duffle bag. Clothes, books, photographs, all your things are strewn about your room. He wants you to know he was here.
🦷Of course you’re dumb enough to put your journal in your top drawer. The same drawer as your panties. You won’t notice if one pair go missing right?
🦷Daryl who reads your diary and grins when he reads about himself. How you write about how mean he is, how he makes you nervous, how you just wished he was nice to you sometimes. Daryl was being “nice” to you. Maybe you just needed to see how mean he could get to appreciate it.
🦷Daryl finds you, stalking towards you until you back up. His body crowding you. His arms bulky with thick muscles. “So, ya don’t think I’m nice….” he murmurs in your ear before pulling back relishing how you look up at him with huge shocked eyes. How your lips are parted, glistening from when you licked them nervously. How your chest brushed his as it rose and fell rapidly feeling your nipples pebble. All that and the combination of the pretty flush on your cheeks is what gets him hard.
🦷 Daryl who drags you after him not caring how you’re tripping over yourself and the uneven ground. He ignore the fact that you’re begging him to slow down. “Don’t give a shit. ‘M not nice remember?” He sneers at you before pushing you into his tent enjoying how your skirt rides up when you hit the floor.
🦷Daryl who feels powerful looming over you. Watching you like a predator as you scramble backwards still laying in the dirt. “Where’d you think you’re goin’?” He drops to the ground next to you his hand wrapping around your ankle as he drags you back towards him. His eyes trailing down your body unabashedly checking you out as he makes his way down. He’s opens his mouth to say something but the words die on is tongue.
🦷 There’s a wet spot on your panties as your arousal seeps through the cloth. He freezes, you freeze, and for a second nobody breaths. Then slowly his eyes move up hesitating to watch your tits rise and fall with your rapid breathing before settling on your big tear filled eyes. A slow grin spreads across his face. “You’re into this shit ain’t ya?”
🦷That slight hesitation is all Daryl needs before he’s lunging forward. He’s got you pinned to the ground. His big calloused hands all over your soft smooth skin. He doesn’t care if he’s being too rough you deserve it for being so fucking dumb. “Yeah ya want this cock you ungrateful lil’ slut? Say it say ya want it.” Daryl pants against your lips before he’s biting and bruising your neck.
🦷Daryl’s got you on your stomach in an instant. Skirt flipped up as he pulls your panties to the side. You squeak jerking forward as he pushes a finger in. You hear the clink of his belt buckle, the hiss of his breath coming between his teeth, and the wet sound of his hand tugging his cock.
🦷Suddenly Daryl has got a hand on your back pushing your face forward and your ass up before he’s sinking his cock deep into you. Groaning at how tight you are. “Take it baby, come on ya gotta be good for somethin’. Too soft to kill a walker, too stupid to be on ya own, ain’t ya good at anythin’?” He rasps out his words intentionally cruel hoping it jumpstarts your desperate need for validation.
🦷Daryl who moans as he feels your pussy clench around him. Sucking his cock in deeper. He doesn’t care if you feel good and if your pussy is trying to pull him in then that must mean it’s adjusted. Daryl gives you a second before he draws his hips back and snaps them forward with a brutal motion.
🦷Daryl who doesn’t care about your scream, or the way your body jerks forward as you claw at the ground. All he can focus on is how tight and wet and warm you are. Squeezing his cock so perfectly. He gasps his hands flying to your hips to keep you there as he ruts into you.
🦷Daryl slaps a hand over your mouth because you’re so fucking loud. The whimpers, moans, and babbling is nonstop while he drills into you. “Such a whore. Ya tryin’ to let the whole camp know I’m fuckin’ ya?” He growls as he pulls your hips back watching as his cock disappears in you.
🦷He doesn’t like how much noise you’re making so he pulls away and reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the pair of panties he stole from you. “Open. Now.” He feels your jaw drop and with a smirk he shoves the fabric in your mouth gagging you. As he does his fingers come in contact with the hot tears running down your cheeks and something in Daryl snaps.
🦷You let out a muffled yell as Daryl releases the hand on your back only to pull your legs out from under you. He’s rolling you onto your back pulling almost fully out before slamming back in. Punching the air from your lungs causing your back to bend till you think you’re going to snap.
🦷 “c’mon let me see that stupid face. See ya choking on your own panties.” His fingers dig into the fat of your face as he holds you there. The rest of your body jolting with the force of his thrusts. Your tits bouncing as he drills into you. Tears welling in your eyes both from overstimulation and pain. His grip gets tighter and he gets in your face. “Awe ya gonna cry about it?” He mocks you his hips moving erratically as the first tear falls.
🦷Daryl looks down at you. Takes in how your tits are spilling out of your flimsy bra and thin tank top. Nipples pebbled and rubbed raw as each thrust causes them to chafe against the fabric. How your neck is a colorful blend of bite marks, hickies, and unblemished skin. How your own spit soaked panties were shoved in between your pretty lip muffling all your stupid noises. But the main thing he focuses on are the tears forming in your big doe eyes. The way they wobble and spill over your dark lashes. How the travel down your flushed cheeks leaving a glistening path on the way.
🦷That’s what has him come undone. He barely has enough time to pull himself out of you. His cock twitching as a thick creamy spurt of cum hits your clothes body. A stain forming on your black tank top as it trails over your chest. Dripping off your tits and down your neck as you lay in shock.
🦷You close your eyes waiting for Daryl to yell at you. Tease, mock, maybe even smack you. But nothing happens. In fact it’s one of the rare times that Daryl becomes kind to you. One may even say Daryl Dixon is even being nice.
🦷The tender grip he has on you. The way he’s pulling your sore and spent body up into his arms before settling you down on his cot. How he runs his fingers through your hair. “Well found what ya good at.” There’s no cruelty in that jab, although your confused overstimulated brain takes it as a compliment.
🦷Daryl waits staying with you, being nice to you, soft with you until your eyelids become too heavy and you fall into a satisfied slumber. You miss the calculated smirk that crosses Daryl’s face as he watches your drift off.
🦷You are a gentle creature after all. He doesn’t want to break his favorite toy.
I’m imagining season one Daryl terrorizing an innocent reader. Someone who still has a gentleness from the old world that most people have abandoned.
Suggestive ✿
TW: mean manipulative Daryl
Here’s pt 2
🦷 Daryl who immediately sees you as an easy target and can’t help but gang up on you with Merle. Calling you all sorts of names and teasing you until you cry.
🦷He’ll never admit to how fucking cute he thinks you look when your eyes start to well with tears. How you nervously pick at your nails. Your lower lip jutting out as you pout. How when you whimper for him to stop it his cock twitches.
🦷 Daryl who can’t help but sneak up behind you his hands grabbing your waist moving higher. Feeling you up under the guise of scaring you.
🦷 “Jeeze I was just playin’ no need to be all sensitive ‘n shit.” He’d smirk at you when you’d get upset stomping your foot in the dust. He’d raise an eyebrow a grin breaking out over his face. “Oh I’m shakin’ in my boots sweetheart.”
🦷Daryl who knows that if you can’t sleep and are too scared you’ll tip toe over to his tent. Begging him to let you sleep next to him for the night.
🦷He’ll make a big show of grumbling, calling you a scaredy cat, telling you that you’re annoying as he raises his blanket secretly delighted by how you dive in next to him.
🦷Daryl who will pull your body closer to his. One hand on your hip so he can pull your ass back against his hard cock as he rocks his hips against you. The other snaking under your shirt so he can feel up your chest.
🦷“Bet you ain’t even scared. Just some dumb horny slut that don’t know how to ask for help.” He sneers at you when you squirm your face heating up at his words as you shake your head. “Don’t worry baby I’ll help ya.”
🦷He loves to drag you out into the woods with him just to watch you struggle. Watch as you call for him to help you down off a fallen log or to beg him to help you up a steep ravine.
🦷His hands linger for too long after helping you. Giving the soft parts of you a little squeeze as he sets you down on the ground.
🦷He absolutely gets a kick out of threatening to leave you out in the woods by yourself. Sometimes he’ll even pretend to walk away and see how panicked you get. The best part is how he tucks you under his arm or carries you against his chest back to camp when you’re too upset.
summary: Daryl sees you in revealing clothes for the first time in when the heat of the summer comes, you catch him trying to hide his arousal
tropes: age gap (just because), touch deprived Daryl, sex on a (kind of) public space, unprotected sex
word count: 1.6k
a/n: I'm actually surprised how the twd community of fic readers/writers is THRIVING still in 2026, I'm really glad there's people to see my stories, that's really a great scape from the real world, thank you for reading and interacting!
You joined the group during winter, your go to outfits for every occasion were not revealing at all. You walked around covered in layers of clothes, sometimes leather jackets or thick puffer ones, covering your skin completely for months.
The heat came in like a wave, as you helped people with crops sweat dripped down your neck to your chest, pooling under your boobs.
Daryl wasn't one to consider himself to really care about sex, or feel needy often. In fact, since then break out he couldn't really picture one single time he had gave in to attraction, he thought of himself as someone who's mind fully controlled his body.
Until now.
He couldn't even pinpoint the exact moment. Carol asked him to bring you a lemonade she made since she figured you might enjoy it after working so long under the flaming hot sun. Daryl mindlessly carried the cup your way, only realizing he had been staring at you for god knows how long when your voice woke him up from his thoughts, standing in front of you holding the cup that was already starting to warm up too.
"Daryl? Heey is anyone there?" you shook your hand playfully in front of his face an he snapped out of his trance. Daryl felt caught. Staring. He realized just now he'd never really seen your body like that. Your shorter outfit clung in all right places, he felt dirty from not being able to look away. She's to young for you. He only hoped you'd assume his rosy cheeks were only due the temperature. "Where was your head at?". You. "Nowhere." he mumbled, almost shoving the lemonade cup into your hands.
"For me?" you take the cup happily in your hands "Thank you, Dixon." you boop his nose playfully and walk back to your task. That's what you did. You touched his nose. She touched you.
Daryl couldn't feel more ridiculous, he could feel his heart race and his blood pressure rise, only then he realized. What the fuck?. The redneck couldn't control it, he placed his hands in front of his body, thankfully already out of your sight, and ran to the nearest place with a door to shut behind him. "Shit, shit, shit! What are you? Thirteen?" he mumbled embarrassed with himself. His member looked like he tried fought his way out if Daryl's pants, and Dixon was loosing, he tried desperately to hide it, stroke it a little bit to make it disappear. Nothing. It felt like all these years of being untouched suddenly reached for him. And it seemed like a punishment.
He felt like a pervert, thirsting over a much younger girl, you just wore something shorter around him and he was already getting all worked up. Daryl was to lost is his thoughts trying to picture anything but your wet sweaty body he didn't hear the other door of the warehouse open right in front of him, revealing the owner of his current dirty daydreams.
"Daryl? Are you o-" you couldn't finish your sentence as your attention was diverted to the bulk in his pants that was literally hard to miss. "Oh- Sorry I- I was jus- Did that- Are you like..." you couldn't seem to process the scene right, you were ready to make your turn and leave like it never happened, if it wasn't from the way he looked at you, needy and unwittingly staring at your exposed skin, you knew.
The second your mind clicked to it your confused face turned to a playfull naughty smirk "Did I do this to you, Daryl?" you use his name on purpose, using your sweetest voice to really get to him.
"Nah I- you couldn't I'm not uh-" the man became lost in his words when in a single move, you removed your shirt, standing now even closer to him, his eyes were drawn straight to your now even less covered body, only your tiny shorts stopped you from being totally exposed to him.
"You like what you see, Dixon? Is this where your mind was at when you got like this?" Your voice was nothing but a whisper, close to him now, he could feel his legs tremble and his cock pulsed like it could explode any minute. He stared at you, unable to move, like if he made any sudden changes you'd realize this was crazy and walk out. "It's rude to leave a lady waiting, Daryl. It's this what you want or not?" He nods slightly with his head, unable to answer. "Use your words."
"Y-yeah." as you provoked him he brushed his hands almost instinctively on his crotch, you pick up his hands and place them on your boobs, using yours above his to make him squeeze them. It's like on that second you could se his eyes light up, his brain came back to earth and he realized you were ~really~ there. And down to fuck him.
"You like it, Dixon."
"Fuck yeah." he finally managed to get back to his senses, massaging your breasts and occasionally piercing your nipples between his fingers, amused with the sight. "Yer gorgeous."
You finally reach in for his cheeks, pulling him closer to you to put your lips to his. Daryl moaned from only this touch. You guided your hands to his dick slowly, taking your time tracing the muscles of his arms to your own pleasure. Suddenly, you stop. Daryl looked like he had just got shot, maybe even worse. You laugh at his desperate face. "Relax, I'm just locking the doors, don't want anyone coming in here for the next part." You walk towards both doors, locking them from the inside and proceeding to guide Daryl to an old armchair you kept in one corner, when you meant to read without any disruption.
Daryl plops gladly on the seat, smiling at the thought he was allowing himself to be manhandled by a girl half his size.
Before you straddle his lap, you unzip his jeans quickly, with his help, you lower them enough to free his throbbing cock, dripping precum, you felt your own folds wet at the sight alone. Fuck, he was hot.
Once you were on top of him, you start pumping his member and nibbling his ears with a wide smile on your face. "I've been wanting to do this for weeks." he only groans in response "Didn't take me as your type tho." he places his hands on your lower back, pushing down your shorts enough to free your pussy where his hands placed small circles around your clit. "I'm fucking glad I am." you completed, melting to his touch, placing your hands in his shoulders for balance as your legs trembled already. He had amazing hands.
"How could'ya not be anyone's type?" he asks admiring you as your face changed expressions in seconds of growing pleasure "Fuckin' gorgeous like that." he pressed harder into your core, making your fully curl towards him in a whine. "Daryl I'm- I'm gonna- fuck." you try uselessly to make any sense of your words "S'right babygirl, let it all out." he guides you as you come undone on his fingers. Still with trembling legs, you manage to get yourself up to fully get your shorts out, straddling him again and lowering yourself to allow him to fill you up hole.
He felt like your missing piece, filling you perfectly as you slowly lowered in his encounter. Daryl instinctively grinded his hips higher to meet yours with a clasp, unable to wait a second more to fuck you numb.
You let him dig his fingers on your flesh as he kept his movements, strong and steady, making a rhythmic noise fill up the room along with your low moans. Daryl occasionally covered your mouth not to call out your friends attention to what was happening inside of that warehouse.
He kept thrusting into you until you, meeting your own movements on a perfect pace. You felt yourself reaching your limit for the second time that day, melting on top of him as he rested his hands on your back, holding you steady as he kept his rhythm until he reached his own nirvana, resting his damp forehead on your equals sweaty shoulders.
You let out a small laugh of amusement, letting the last moments sink in before moving yourself off from him. You slowly get yourself up from his lap, letting un unsatisfied groan from the lack of him physically. As you move, Daryl only watches you in awe, silently. You grab some tissues from a shelf and hand him some "Clean up." you command "Thanks.".
He watches you get dressed still not processing what you just did. You pick up on his staring, smiling to yourself "A picture would last longer, Dixon."
"Shut up."
You walk out of the warehouse witg Daryl just behing you, Maggie passed by, spotting you and cluelessly walking towards the door "Just who I was looking for!" her smile turns into a confused expression when she also spotted Daryl just behind you, that added to the fact you both looked a mess. Your ponytail could no longer really be called that, Daryl's belt still hung unbuckled on his pants. Once she did the math she let out a snort "Oh my god! You two!" she pointed between you, watching his ears turn bright red "Well-" she added still smiling "if you allow me I have to borrow y/n for a second, Daryl." she blinked playfully at him, who only groaned in response.
Daryl always keeps two polaroids with him at all times.
In the first one, you appear smiling, sitting on the porch of your Alexandria home. He loves this picture because you are smiling at him and he loves that smile, his favorite. Daryl keeps this one in his vest front pocket, always checking it and giving it kisses here and there, saying “I’ll be back soon, my love,”.
The second picture has you on the bed, legs wide open, panties to the side revealing your pussy, glistening with your arousal. Your tits are bare, sweat and cum clinging to them. You are smiling but your eyes are closed, tired from the way he destroyed you just a few moments earlier, before taking the picture. He keeps this one deep in his backpack, no one allowed to see it. At night, under the faint light of the fire or candle, he jerks off at its sight, imagining it’s you touching him.
I want a latte with white chocolate 32oz with a crepe and and a croissant. (7 and 13) 🥹✌️
32oz white chocolate latte w/ crepes & a croissant .ᐟ
in which you and daryl never got along, until you went looking for him. now, it seems even disdain can’t override lust.
word count: 3.9k
themes: dom!daryl, gn!reader, enemies to lovers? hate sex, arguing, slapping, spanking, choking, degradation, use of a gag, a little silly.
a/n: one of my favorite fics i’ve ever written. thank u anon. i hope it is to your liking. <3
back in atlanta, you and daryl never got along. you were constantly butting heads, bickering, challenging each other. everyone else in the group knew it was because you were too similar—both stubborn, hard-headed, guarded.
in the prison, things got worse. tensions high, everyone on edge, you were at each other's throats constantly. you felt one way, daryl felt another.
of course, then came alexandria. the safe-zone. a real, gated community. you had finally gotten somewhere truly safe—a place where you could settle down.
once again, you disagreed on things. you acclimated nicely, adjusted fast. daryl rebelled, isolated, his walls went up higher. it got so bad, he fled. he only told a couple of people—rick, carol. it was a hard decision, but one he had to make. he was going stir-crazy in those walls, expected to make friends with the neighbors, join them for dinner. it wasn’t him.
you’d said “good riddance,” but felt this weird stinging in your chest when he left. almost like hurt.
only after he was gone did you recognize why you felt this grief, this emptiness. even fighting, yelling, shoving, you and daryl had something. maybe it wasn’t the healthiest relationship, but it was raw and real and yours. you missed him.
it took real digging from rick and carol to figure out where the hell to look. you’d known it’d be difficult—he never left with the intention of being found, but had left clues along the way. for emergencies.
after a few months of his absence, you set off looking for him. it was summertime, warm and humid as you trekked through the thick woods. you eventually stumbled upon a cabin, in a small clearing, old and rickety and definitely daryl’s. of course, you couldn’t be certain, so your knife was held tightly in your hand as you circled the home. you peeked inside, not seeing anybody. perhaps this was false hope. your stomach dropped at the thought.
moving back to the front of the house, you finally gained the courage to knock on the door. knock, knock, knock.
you waited, anxiously pacing the porch. no answer. you knocked again, louder. there had to be someone in there.
still, nothing. you kicked the porch railing in anger, “fuck! just fucking come out here, asshole!” you growled.
“i’m already out here, jesus,” daryl’s voice came from behind you.
you spun around, eyes wide, lips parted. daryl stood with a brow raised, two dead squirrels in his fist. “y’kicked my porch.”
you scoffed, shaking your head in frustration and bewilderment. “you left. without saying a goddamn word.”
shoving past you, daryl walked up the porch steps and opened the door. you thought he might slam it in your face, leave you there without a single answer. he didn’t. instead, he turned, halfway facing you, and jerked his head for you to follow. slowly, you stepped inside, scanning the setup inside.
daryl set his game on the kitchen counter with a thump before turning to face you. he leaned back, arms folded in front of him.
“yeah, i left. last person i figured’d care ‘s you,” he grumbled. “rick send y’after me?”
“does it matter?” you spat back, frowning deeply. “you left everybody. we were finally settling in, and you abandoned it.”
daryl let out a huff, “ain’t nobody missin’ me that bad.”
“is that what you think?”
“s’what i know.”
you stood straighter, chin tilting upward in a grim understanding. the man didn’t even know how valuable he was to the group. “can’t believe you,” you muttered, turning to glance around the cabin. “you really sit here all day, sulking because you think you don’t deserve to be in alexandria.”
“the hell i do,” daryl stomped over, hand on your shoulder. “you think you know me? you dunno shit. i ain’t come here to sulk. came here to clear my head. to… to have some space. ‘s that a crime?”
“people are worried about you!” you shot back, shoving his hand off. “wondering if you’re okay! i’m… wondering if you’re okay.”
your anger fizzled, coming to almost a pout. realizing what you’d said, your cheeks tinted pink, and you stepped back. you looked down. “okay? fuck, i… know we never got along, but i… kinda liked it. i-i don’t get to spit venom at anybody else like you an’ i do, yunno?” your arms folded over your chest, almost cradling yourself.
daryl blinked. huh? it made no sense. you hated him. he hated you. that’s the way shit was. now, you were making it all complicated and weird.
“dun’ do that,” he replied.
“don’t do what?”
“say all tha’ like… like we ain’t at each other's throats all the time. like it’s some game.”
“isn’t it?”
there was a heavy silence, where neither of you knew what to say. you were humiliated, daryl was in disbelief. could there be a world where you and daryl bickered because you… liked each other?
“nah,” daryl threw his arm out, walking back to the kitchen. “nah, it… this ain’t…”
the man groaned, arms over his head, stretching his biceps. fucking asshole, didn’t even recognize how hot that was.
“are you seriously gonna act like you weren’t adding fuel to the fire?” you argued, stomping towards him. “you didn’t come here to ‘clear your head.’ you can do that anywhere. just tell me why you came out here.”
“nothin’s ever good enough for ya, is it?” daryl fired back, shaking his head with a deep scowl. “i’m a grown ass man, i don’t need yer permission to walk away.”
“i didn’t say you did, jackass, i just wanna know why you left!”
“don’t you fuckin’ yell at me,” daryl snarled, shoving you back. “the fuck’s it matter to you, anyway?”
“because, there is shit goin’ on at home that we need you for!”
“like what?”
“fuckin’… renovations, watch shifts, morale!”
daryl snorted, “nobody needin’ me for morale, trust me.”
“you’re pathetic, daryl.”
he paused, lip twitching, eyeing you for a moment. then, he stormed over, grabbed you buy the throat, and slammed you against the nearest wall. “say it again,” he rumbled, low in his chest. “say it, motherfucker, tell me what i am.”
you scrabbled at the wall, your sharp glare faltering slightly, though you refused to back down entirely. “fuckin’… prick! let me go,” you wheezed. “knock it off!”
“you wanna talk shit, you gotta pay the price, bitch, say it again.”
“fuck you! you’re a pathetic fucking loser,” you spat, kneeing him in the stomach.
daryl’s grip on your neck fell, and you shoved him back. he was only down for a second before he tackled you again, sending you both to the cabin floor. daryl’s hands went for your throat again, and you gripped his wrists to hold him back. “you fucking freak!” you barked, voice cracking. “get the hell off me!”
“why’d you come here, huh?! tell me,” daryl saw red, holding you down with his body weight. “the fuck d’ya want?”
your fingers slipped, and he was choking you again. you gasped and coughed, eyes watering. “daryl… stop!”
“tell me why!”
“because—fuck—because i fuckin’ missed you, asshole!” you hacked.
he let go. his hands remained on your throat, but were no longer squeezing. you caught your breath with a wet inhale, eyes fluttering.
“the hell do ya mean?” daryl continued interrogating you.
“the fuck—i just told you!” you smacked his chest. “i missed you, damnit, god. you want me to say it in chinese? i liked it. i liked the fighting, the… this.”
daryl shook his head, baffled by your confession. he sat back, still on top of you, but far enough to let you prop yourself on your elbows.
bruises were beginning to form on your neck already.
“fuck,” you rubbed your throat. “you’re a dick, yunno that? thought i was bein’ obvious, didn’t know you were that dumb.”
“ain’t fuckin’ dumb,” daryl shoved you lightly, sending you back on the floor. “shut up. you started it.”
“i did not,” you scoffed. “you’re the little pansy with his feelings hurt.”
“don’t start,” he warned, hands hitting the floor beside your head. “gon’ get mean again.”
“you’re never not mean.”
“this time, it’s gon’ be worse.”
“really?”
“yup.”
daryl grabbed you by the hair, tugging so your head tilted up, so he could smother you in a messy, angry kiss. it wasn’t romantic, or poised in any way. this was feral and sloppy and uncoordinated. you could taste ash and blood.
“daryl—” you squeaked, hands coming up to his chest. “stop!”
he pulled away, flushed, with heavy breaths. “stop? yer sendin’ mixed signals here.”
“i said i missed you, not ‘kiss me.’ yuck,” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.
daryl took your wrist and pinned it to the hardwood. “tell me straight. you want this, or not? ain’t no maybe, or ‘i dunno.’ say it.”
you squirmed, brows knit together in a frown, but your cheeks were burning. “fuck you,” you muttered.
“huh?” he leaned in, tilting his head. “come on, say it. tell me you hate me, that you want me to get off. why’d you come here, ah? to tell me i’m pathetic?”
“stop,” you whined, trying to wriggle away.
“i’m talkin’ to you, don’t fuckin’ look away,” he gripped your chin with the hand not holding you down, forcing you to face him. “tell me what you want. don’t pout, you did this to yourself.”
you let out a huff of irritable air, staring him down, as if trying to burn him with your eyes. this was, however, undeniably hot. you said nothing.
“now who’s pathetic?” daryl lightly smacked your cheek.
“fuck you,” you grunted, smacking him back harder.
your eyes widened at your own actions, knowing what you’d just done. your lips pursed, and you tried to melt into the floor. daryl gave you no time to apologize, just ripped you around, shoving you on your stomach. one hand held the back of your head, forcing it down, while the other shoved your pants down with a growl. “fuckin’ bitch. always so fuckin’ sure of yourself.”
SMACK! you yelped from the impact of his palm on your bare ass. you wouldn’t apologize.
SMACK! you squealed, legs helplessly kicking.
“go on then, whore, tell me how ya really feel!” daryl goaded. “you hate me? say it loud, go on!”
“fuck… s-stop!” you cried. “stop it!”
“nah, you get to sit there and take it,” he chuckled angrily, landing another spank without warning. “tell me you hate me. c’mon.”
“argh—h-hate you!” you groaned. “f-fuck… fuck you…”
“again,” daryl grabbed your hair again. “tell me you fuckin’ hate me.”
“i hate you!” you screamed.
daryl let out a feral grunt, dropping your head, and unbuckling his belt. “uh-huh,” the ghost of a smirk on his face, he tossed his belt aside. “gon’ hate me real bad when i finally fuck yer brains out.”
leaning back on his heels, daryl pulled you up by your hips, forcing you on your hands and knees. with his index and middle finger, daryl slid his digits along your sex, gathering the sweet honey you’d left him, and humming with satisfaction. he brought those same digits around to your lips, shoving them past. “taste it. how much you hate me. suck ‘em clean,” he sneered.
mouth full of yourself, you whined and writhed, that same pout still painting your pretty face. still, it’s not like you’d refuse. daryl was very convincing. he pumped his fingers into your mouth, feeling your tongue sliding along his skin. his cock twitched, aching to feel that same tongue.
“had enough?” he taunted, gripping your chin with his free hand. “or you wanna keep bein’ a fuckin’ brat?”
a small gurgle left your throat. daryl triumphantly pulled his digits past your lips, slick with drool, and wiped them along your cheek. “nothin’ to say now, huh? funny how fast you shut up like this.”
“come on,” you groaned, arching your back to further present yourself. “are you even gonna fuck me, er is your old man dick too limp?”
daryl’s brow twitched. he let out a huff, and adjusted himself behind you, gazing upon your skin, before landing a sharp smack to your ass. “maybe you’re right. maybe i’m too old an’ limp. could always leave you like this.”
“fucker,” you snarled, looking back at him with a sharp glare. “don’t.”
“don’t?” he scoffed, tilting his head antagonizingly. “so you want me to fuck you, that it?”
before you could reply, his hand was cupping your ass, squeezing, before spreading your cheeks, and circling your entrance.
you keened, thighs twitching as he teased your hole, “don’t, come on, stop teasin’ me.”
“say please,” daryl replied, never giving you the pressure you needed. “come on. tell me what ya want, doll. what you came all this way for.”
your jaw tight, nails digging into hardwood, you let out a primal growl of defeat. damnit, he was good. “f-fine! please… shit, daryl, just put ‘em—”
in. daryl sunk in, suddenly knuckle deep with his two fingers. he let out a satisfied breath, adoring the way your whining collapsed into a gasp. “there we go. you shut up real quick for that,” he chuckled. “this is why you really went lookin’ fer me, ain’t it? filthy fuckin’ pervert, achin’ fer me.”
mouth open, your face went to the floor as daryl curled his digits, massaging that spongy spot inside you. he watched with a twisted pride as you squirmed, panting heavily as his fingers pumped in and out. he curled and scissored, stretching you open, his hungry eyes feasting on the sight.
“god, fuck,” you spat through clenched teeth.
“yeah? feel good? bet yer fingers ain’t feel this good, ah?” he growled back. “too small, can’t get nearly as deep. jus’ wait fer my cock. gonna make you regret bitchin’ an whinin’.”
you didn’t even realize you were pressing back against his thrusts, seeking more pressure. “fuck, fuck, can take it, dar, please,” you moaned.
“can you? i dunno, shakin’ already.”
“i can, fuck face.”
a pleased smirk, and daryl pulled his fingers out. another sharp crack on your rear, eliciting a tiny yelp. “fuckin’ greedy little bitch, ain’tcha?” he snickered. “coulda told me you were hungry, woulda fed you a lot sooner.”
pants down, boxers off, daryl’s dick sprung free, heavy and dripping. you looked back, eyes blowing wide at the sight. “you…”
“dun’ make it weird,” he grunted, grabbing you by the hips and spinning you around onto your back. “jus’ open up fer me.”
you slowly, hesitantly, spread your legs, hands up at your chest. daryl’s palms hit the floor, straddling you. with his teeth, he pulled your shirt up and over your chest. goosebumps ran up your skin. flattening his tongue, he slid it along your skin, down towards your navel. you shuddered, hips jutting upward slightly. it didn’t feel romantic.
“ready?” he asked.
you nodded.
daryl positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock pushing in achingly slow. he heard the drawn out groan, could practically feel your teeth grinding. he reached into the back pocket of his discarded jeans, grabbing a bandana. suddenly, dirty cloth was shoved between your lips. “bite down on that,” he demanded.
you were protesting, words muffled, when he pushed all the way in. when his hips met yours, you cried into the bandana, feeling the burn of his thick cock inside you. “there we go,” daryl sighed. “fuck, you’re tight. fuck…”
he let you adjust, fully seated inside you, letting you squirm a little. when you tried to get up, though, his hand pushed you by the back of the neck, holding you down. “the fuck you think yer goin’? you stay down,” he smacked your ass with his free hand.
you whined, writhing under him. while apart of him felt a little twinge of guilt, daryl couldn’t help the stir in his gut at watching you struggle.
“move, asshole,” you grumbled, words messy from drooling into the bandana. “the fuck’r you doing?”
“hm,” daryl exhaled sharply through his nose. “cute. ya still think you can boss me around.”
he pulled almost all the way out, bulbous head catching, before slamming back into you with a huff. “fuckin’ dumbass. always runnin’ yer mouth.”
another sharp thrust, and you moaned into the rag, spit dribbling down your chin. his dick hit that spot nearly every time, driving you up a fucking wall.
“yeah? ya fuckin’ like that? whore. stupid whore,” the words kept spilling out, his mouth moving before his brain could stop it. each time he fucked into you, he was making a statement, punishing you. he didn’t exactly know what for, but he couldn’t stop.
your whines drove him deeper, and soon, daryl was pounding you relentlessly. with a snarl, he yanked the cloth out of your mouth, prying your mouth open with his fingers pulling your jaw down. “you hate me, huh? think i’m fuckin’ pathetic? who’s the greedy whore gettin’ backshots from some guy you hate?”
a croak escaped you, and it sounded an awful lot like ‘me,’ but he couldn’t be sure with his digits pushing your tongue down flat. daryl’s rhythm slowed, but the aggression never faded.
“agh,” you grunted, smacking the floor, mindlessly begging.
as quickly as they came, daryl’s fingers slipped free, before taking his drool-soaked hand and smacking your cheek. “use your words,” he snapped. “come on. say it. say you hate me. know you wanna.”
“s-shut up!” you pleaded, tears pricking your eyes. “you fucking asshole just… fuck, just…”
“what?” he sneered. “just what? fuckin’ say it, don’t be a little bitch about it. you wanna cum, that it? need me to go faster so you can get off an’ then bitch an’ moan about how pathetic i am some more?”
“stop!” you sobbed, head falling back to the floor.
“you love it,” daryl rumbled, letting himself lay atop your back. “admit it, an’ i’ll let you cum. you came here ‘cause you missed me, right? i’m jus’ makin’ sure you get yer fill.”
your breaths came out as sharp gasps and wheezes, his dick grinding deep into you over and over. he could feel you clenching around his length, knew he wasn’t gonna last much longer.
“c’mon, doll. tell me,” he purred. “wanna hear your pretty voice.”
“y-you…” the words slipped out, your hands scrabbling at the floor. “fuck, okay… w-want it, daryl, please stop f-fucking with me…”
daryl chuckled low in his chest, and leaned back. “uh-huh. little brat, talkin’ shit till you want somethin’. lucky you make me hard, ‘cause otherwise, you’d be fuckin’ lunchmeat for the dead.”
his hands grasped your hips, nails digging in as he adjusted on his knees. you felt his dick twitching within you, stirring with need. a small noise fell from your mouth, before daryl began fucking you fast and hard. he held you like a toy, like it was nothing, pulling you into him. the sound you made drove him further, his own ragged groans vibrating. just when you felt the pleasure rise to a boiling point, he stopped cold.
“w…what?” you swung your head back, cheeks burning, eyes wide with confusion. “what the fuck?”
“oh, shut up,” daryl scoffed, pulling out and flipping you onto your back. “wanna watch your stupid fuckin’ face when i make you cum. you can wait a sec, i promise.”
you scowled, feeling his eyes wandering across your body. laying his dick on your abdomen, he let pre drip, landing on your skin, making you twitch.
“yeah… gonna hate me worse after this,” he muttered.
daryl grabbed the base of his dick, tugging for a couple seconds before lining back up with your hole. you braced, biting your bottom lip raw. he let out a grunt, and pressed back in.
“fuuuck, yeah…”
your head fell back as he figured out the right angle, pulling you up by your ass, and using you once again to gain more momentum. “so… fuckin’... good,” he clenched his jaw, vein in his neck popping.
“daryl,” you gasped, clawing his back. “fucking fuck, don’t… don’t stop…”
“look at me,” he commanded, gripping your chin with one hand, the other still holding you up slightly. “wanna see you lookin’ at me.”
you nodded, frantic, so close to orgasm. your eyes locked, daryl’s head eventually falling, forehead landing on yours. he couldn’t pull away.
“gonna cum soon,” he confessed, breathing heavier. “you close?”
“mhm,” you replied, hands tangling into his hair. “yeah… yeah, don’t stop.”
“god,” he groaned, face scrunching up as he buried his cock as deep as he could into you. “fuckin’... wanted this… fer so long…”
“no,” you breathed, shaking your head in disbelief. “stop…”
“serious. dun’ get me wrong… fuck… i hate yer guts. doesn’t mean i don’ wanna rearrange ‘em, too…”
that line did it. your back arched, which in turn pushed daryl’s dick inside you further as you came hard. eyes screwed shut, you let out a sound loud enough for walkers to hear. daryl wasn’t far behind, huffing and puffing as he let you ride out your orgasm.
one, two, three more thrusts, and he pulled out, his load splattering onto your stomach and chest. “fuck… fuck…”
your arm moved over your eyes as you caught your breath. daryl fell back, lying beside you. for a moment, it was just your breathing, the hum of the house, and the sex in the air.
that’s when you realized daryl had been staring the entire time. you scoffed, “hate me all you want, you can’t stop lookin’ at me,” you grumbled.
“among other things,” he replied.
you shook your head, rolled your eyes, and sat up. your gaze quickly fell to the mess on your skin, now dripping down. a frown painted your face. daryl laughed gently, getting up. “relax, i’ll getcha a rag,” he mumbled.
as he walked away, there was a brief moment of panic in your chest. the line you had just crossed, the boundaries pushed… what did this mean for you two?
before you had time to wonder too much, daryl was back, kneeling down and wiping you clean. he was gentle, a stark contrast to how he had just treated you moments ago. you let a short smile show, and daryl looked away shyly. chucking the rag, he leaned his back against the couch, arms resting on his knees. “sorry,” is all he said.
“for what?” you tilted your head.
he shrugged, “makin’ a mess of ya. bein’... a dick.”
you shoved him with your foot, “don’t get cocky, jackass.”
the two of you shared a chuckle that faded to comfortable silence.
“hey,” daryl spoke up, reaching out and brushing your arm. “i… kinda missed you, too, i guess. an’ i know you’re pissed at me, cause i left. ain’t ready to go back yet, but… wouldn’t be mad if ya stayed.”
you didn’t answer right away, looking down at the part of your arm he had touched. stay? with dixon? usually, that was a no brainer, but for some reason, you kind of wanted to.
You don’t even remember the first time it happened. Just that one day the prison yard was packed, people crowding around the tables, arguing over rations and watch shifts. You were tired, your legs aching after a long run, and Daryl Dixon was sitting there, quiet as ever—
You walk straight over.
He looks up at you, squinting. “What?”
“No seats,” you say simply.
And you just… sat on his lap.
Like it was the most normal thing in the world.
He froze.
Completely.
“Uh,” he starts. “…What’re you doin’?”
You get comfortable, shifting slightly, leaning back against his chest. “You’re not using it.”
“My—” he cuts himself off, clearly recalculating something. “…lap.”
“Correct.”
“Resting,” you said simply, settling in.
He didn’t move you.
Didn’t push you off.
Just sat there, stiff as a board for a solid thirty seconds before very carefully relaxing—like he’d decided this was happening whether he understood it or not.
After that?
It just… became a thing.
You’d drop into his lap at the fire.
Lean back against his chest without asking.
Sometimes you’d be mid-conversation with someone else while perched there like it was your designated seat.
People noticed.
Of course they did.
You ignored them.
So did he.
Mostly.
(There was the occasional grumble. A muttered “Ain’t a chair” under his breath. But he never actually stopped you.)
If anything—
He adjusted.
A hand resting automatically at your hip so you didn’t slip.
His legs shifting slightly to make it more comfortable.
Like he just… accepted it.
Accepted you.
By the time Alexandria happens, people notice.
They definitely notice.
“You know,” Glenn says one afternoon, watching you casually drop onto Daryl’s lap mid-conversation, “most people would call that a relationship.”
You glance over your shoulder. “Most people are wrong.”
Daryl snorts quietly behind you, like he agrees.
And that’s the thing—
Neither of you ever define it.
It just… is.
Which is why it throws you so completely when you see him with her.
Her name is—honestly, you don’t care enough to remember it.
She’s one of the Alexandria women. Soft-spoken, neat, always hovering just a little too close to Daryl whenever he’s back from a run.
You notice it before you mean to.
The way she lingers.
The way she smiles at him.
The way he doesn’t immediately walk away.
And yeah—he’s not exactly encouraging it.
But he’s not shutting it down either.
That’s what gets to you.
Daryl—who usually avoids conversations like this—is actually… staying.
Listening.
Your stomach twists.
Weird.
Unpleasant.
You don’t like it.
“…Oh,” you murmur under your breath.
Maybe that’s it.
Maybe that’s what he wants.
Someone normal.
Someone who doesn’t treat him like a piece of furniture and sit on him whenever they feel like it.
You huff quietly, crossing your arms.
“Good for him,” you mutter, even though it doesn’t feel good at all.
So you stop.
Not all at once.
Not dramatically.
You just… stop sitting on his lap.
Stop leaning into him.
Stop taking up that space like it’s yours.
Daryl notices.
Of course he does.
He notices everything about you.
The first time you choose a spot across the fire instead of next to him, his eyes linger.
The second time, his shoulders tense.
By the third—
He’s staring.
You pretend not to see it.
“Somethin’ wrong with you?” he mutters one night, catching you as you try to pass by him without stopping.
You shrug, casual. “Nope.”
“You ain’t been—” he gestures vaguely, like he doesn’t have the words for it.
“Been what?”
He frowns. “Y’know.”
You tilt your head innocently. “I really don’t.”
His jaw tightens.
“…Forget it.”
You almost do.
Almost convince yourself it doesn’t matter.
Until the day it finally snaps.
You’re in the middle of the street when it happens.
A few people gathered around, talking, trading, trying to build something normal out of what’s left.
You’re half-listening.
Until you see her again.
Standing close to Daryl.
Too close.
Laughing softly at something he said—something you didn’t even hear.
And he’s—
He’s not laughing.
But he’s not walking away either.
Something in your chest twists.
Fine, you think.
Fine.
You turn, ready to leave, to give them space, to pretend this doesn’t bother you nearly as much as it does—
“Hey.”
His eyes are on you.
Tracking.
Waiting.
You hesitate.
Just for a second.
And that’s all it takes.
“C’mere,” he calls.
You blink.
“…What?”
He jerks his chin toward himself.
“C’mere.”
The woman looks between you both, confused.
You glance at her.
Then back at him.
“…You’re busy.”
“Ain’t,” he says immediately.
She opens her mouth like she might argue that.
Daryl doesn’t even look at her.
“C’mere,” he repeats.
There’s something in his voice this time.
Not a request.
Not quite a command.
Just… certain.
Your feet move before your brain catches up.
You walk over slowly, aware of the woman watching, of the shift in the air.
“Daryl—” you start.
And then—
He grabs your wrist.
Not rough.
Just firm.
And pulls.
It’s so sudden you don’t even process it at first.
Until you realize where you are.
How close.
His arm locked firmly around your waist, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
Not casual.
Not absent-minded.
Deliberate.
Right there.
In front of her.
Like it’s nothing.
The woman goes quiet.
You can feel it without even looking.
Feel the shift in the air.
The message.
Your breath catches.
“…Daryl.”
His gaze flicks down to you for half a second.
Softens.
His hand tightens slightly at your side.
A silent stay.
Like you belong there.
“Hey,” he says, quieter now.
You stare at him.
“Hi,” you manage.
There’s a beat.
Then you remember—
Oh.
Right.
You glance at the woman.
She’s staring.
Openly.
A little stunned.
A little… put off.
“Oh,” you say, suddenly feeling awkward. “Sorry, I didn’t—”
“You didn’t nothin’,” Daryl cuts in.
You blink.
The woman clears her throat.
“I, uh… didn’t realize you two were—”
“We ain’t,” Daryl says.
Your stomach drops.
Of course.
You knew that.
Still—
His arm tightens slightly around you.
“But she’s mine,” he adds.
Your brain short-circuits.
“…What?”
He doesn’t look at you.
Still watching the woman.
Steady. Unapologetic.
“She sits here,” he continues, like he’s explaining something obvious. “She stays close. That’s just how it is.”
Silence.
The woman shifts awkwardly.
“Right,” she says after a second. “I—I should go.”
“Yeah,” Daryl replies easily.
She doesn’t need telling twice.
You watch her leave.
Then slowly turn back to him.
You swallow. “…So.”
He looks at you again.
Really looks this time.
“Thought you didn’t wanna sit here no more.”
There’s something rough in his voice.
Something quieter underneath.
You frown slightly. “I didn’t think you—” you stop yourself.
Didn’t think you wanted me to.
His eyes narrow. “Didn’t think I what?”
You shake your head. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
You huff a small laugh, shaking your head again. “You had options.”
“Options?” he repeats, like the word offends him.
You gesture vaguely in the direction the woman left. “Her, for one.”
Daryl goes very still.
Up close like this, you can see it—
The faint tension.
The way he’s bracing, just a little.
Then—
“Don’t want her.”
The words come out immediate. Firm.
Like there was never a question.
Your breath catches.
“…You don’t?”
He stares at you like you’ve just said the dumbest thing he’s ever heard.
“Been sittin’ on my lap for months,” he mutters. “Thought that meant somethin’.”
Your heart stutters.
“It did,” you say quietly. “I just didn’t know if it meant the same thing to you.”
His expression shifts.
Softens in a way that feels almost dangerous.
“Only ever meant one thing to me.”
Your heart stutters.
“…Daryl.”
He exhales, like he’s already said too much.
But he doesn’t stop.
“Don’t like it,” he mutters. “You thinkin’ I—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Ain’t her.”
Your breath catches.
“Oh.”
Silence settles between you.
You shift slightly in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you are.
“How long?” you ask quietly.
He shrugs one shoulder.
“While.”
You huff a soft laugh.
“Great. And you didn’t think to mention that?”
He looks almost offended.
“Thought it was obvious.”
You stare at him.
“…Daryl.”
“What?” he mutters.
“I sit on your lap.”
“Yeah.”
“That does not automatically equal ‘I’m yours.’”
He frowns.
“…Should.”
You laugh—actually laugh, a little breathless.
“You’re unbelievable.”
He huffs, but there’s something softer in his expression now.
“Yeah.”
A beat.
Then, quieter—
“…You don’t gotta stop.”
You blink.
“Stop what?”
He gestures vaguely—between you, your position, all of it.
“This.”
Your heart does something stupid again.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” you admit.
That tension in him eases.
Just a little.
“Good.”
You study him for a second longer.
Then smile—slow, a little teasing, a little something more.
“…So this is mine now?” you ask, shifting slightly in his lap.
He snorts.
“Always was.”
Your smile softens.
“Good,” you murmur, settling more comfortably against him. “Because I wasn’t planning on giving up my seat permanently.”
You're found hiding from Walkers in a cupboard by Daryl while he's on a run.
He takes you back to the prison with him. You refuse to leave his side.
Daryl is roughly 37–41, reader is mid 20s.
The first thing you hear is the breathing.
Not yours.
Too rough. Too close.
You press yourself deeper into the cupboard, hand clamped over your mouth so hard your jaw aches. The wood digs into your back, your knees pulled tight to your chest, every muscle screaming at you to run—but there’s nowhere to go.
The door rattles.
A low, guttural groan follows.
Walker.
Right outside.
Tears blur your vision as you squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to disappear. You’ve been in here for hours—maybe longer. Time stopped meaning anything after the first few bodies shuffled past the house.
You don’t know how much longer you can stay quiet.
The handle jerks.
You flinch violently, a strangled sound almost slipping free before you bite it back.
Another groan.
Then—
Footsteps.
Different.
Heavier. Faster.
Alive.
Your eyes snap open.
Voices. Muffled. Low.
Then a sharp thud, a wet sound, and silence.
Your heart pounds so loud you’re sure it’ll give you away.
The cupboard door rips open.
Light floods in.
You scream.
“Hey—HEY—!”
A rough voice cuts through your panic, hands coming up but not touching you. “Easy! Ain’t gonna hurt ya!”
You scramble back instinctively, hitting the wall with nowhere left to go, chest heaving.
He’s crouched in front of you.
Crossbow slung over his shoulder. Dirty. Tired. Eyes sharp but not cruel.
Alive.
“Please—” your voice breaks. “Please don’t—”
“I ain’t,” he interrupts, softer now, like he’s trying not to spook you further. “You’re alright.”
You stare at him, trembling.
“You bit?” he asks bluntly.
You shake your head immediately. “N-no.”
He studies you for a second—like he’s weighing it.
Then he nods once.
“Alright.”
Silence stretches.
You don’t move.
Neither does he.
“…you plannin’ on stayin’ in there forever?” he asks after a moment, eyebrow lifting slightly.
Your grip tightens on your knees.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you whisper.
Something shifts in his expression.
Not pity.
Something quieter.
He exhales through his nose, pushing himself up and offering you a hand.
“C’mon,” he says. “Ain’t safe here.”
You stare at his hand.
At him.
At the open world beyond the cupboard.
It feels like stepping off a cliff.
“…I can’t,” you whisper.
His jaw tightens just slightly.
“Yeah, you can.”
You shake your head, panic rising again. “There’s more out there—”
“I’ll handle ‘em.”
It’s not arrogance.
It’s fact.
You hesitate.
Then—slowly, like you’re moving through water—you reach for him.
His hand closes around yours.
Warm. Solid.
Real.
And just like that—
You leave the cupboard.
You don’t let go of him.
Not outside.
Not when he leads you through the trees.
Not when he takes down two walkers without breaking stride, barely even looking at them.
Not when he glances back at you, noticing.
“…you gonna keep holdin’ on like that?” he mutters.
Your fingers tighten instinctively.
“Yes.”
He huffs, something almost amused under his breath.
“Alright.”
But he doesn’t pull away.
The prison is the last place you expect.
High fences. Guard towers. People.
So many people.
You freeze just inside the gates, overwhelmed instantly.
“They’re safe,” he says shortly, noticing. “My people.”
My people.
You cling a little closer.
Someone approaches—a man with a sheriff’s hat, asking questions, assessing you.
You don’t answer.
You just—
Stay behind him.
“…she always this quiet?” the man asks.
Daryl shrugs. “Found her hidin’ in a cupboard. Scared outta her mind.”
“Fair enough,” the man says gently.
You barely hear him.
Because you’re too focused on one thing.
Daryl stepping away.
Even just a little.
Your panic spikes instantly.
You grab his arm.
Hard.
He pauses, glancing down at your hand.
“…hey,” he says, softer now. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Your grip doesn’t loosen.
“…promise?” you whisper.
Something in his face shifts again.
He nods once.
“Yeah.”
You become his shadow.
It’s not intentional.
It’s instinct.
You follow him everywhere—yard, watch shifts, even just sitting on the steps outside the cell block. If he moves, you move.
At first, people notice.
They whisper.
Ask questions.
Daryl shrugs it off.
“She’s fine.”
That’s all he says.
And somehow—
That’s enough.
He doesn’t push you.
Doesn’t force conversation.
Doesn’t demand anything you’re not ready to give.
He just… lets you exist near him.
And slowly—
You start to breathe again.
“Y’can’t keep hidin’ behind me forever,” he says one afternoon, handing you a canteen.
You take it, fingers brushing his.
“I’m not hiding,” you mumble.
He raises an eyebrow.
You huff slightly. “Okay. Maybe a little.”
He snorts.
“Thought so.”
But there’s no judgment in it.
Days turn into weeks.
Weeks into months.
You start talking more.
Small things at first.
Then bigger ones.
You learn the way he moves, the way he watches everything, the way he pretends not to care when he clearly does.
He learns you.
Your tells. Your fears. The way your hand still reaches for him when something startles you.
And he lets you.
Every time.
It shifts slowly.
So slowly neither of you notices at first.
The way his hand lingers when he helps you up.
The way you lean into him without thinking.
The way he starts checking for you before anything else when he gets back from runs.
“You good?” becomes his first question.
Always.
One night, it finally breaks.
You’re sitting outside, back against the wall, knees pulled in.
He drops down beside you, quieter than usual.
“You alright?” he asks.
You nod. “Yeah.”
A beat.
“…you ever gonna stop lookin’ at me like that?” he mutters.
You blink. “Like what?”
“Like I hung the damn moon or somethin’.”
Heat creeps up your neck.
“I don’t—”
“Yeah, you do.”
Silence.
You fidget with your hands.
“I just…” you trail off.
“What?”
You swallow.
“You found me,” you say quietly. “When no one else did.”
He shifts beside you, uncomfortable.
“Ain’t that big a deal.”
“It is to me.”
That lands.
He exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“…you ain’t gotta stick to me ‘cause of that,” he says. “You’re safe here now.”
You shake your head immediately.
“It’s not just that.”
He looks at you then.
Really looks.
“Then what?”
Your heart pounds.
But you don’t look away.
“It’s you,” you admit.
Silence.
Heavy.
Daryl goes very still.
“…me?” he repeats.
You nod, breath shaky. “I feel safe with you. Not just here. Not just because of the walls or the people.”
You shift closer, just slightly.
“With you.”
His jaw tightens.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you interrupt softly.
That stops him.
“You think I don’t see it?” you continue. “The way you look out for me. The way you never leave me behind.”
His voice is rough when he answers.
“‘Cause you need it.”
“I needed it,” you correct gently. “Now I just… want you.”
That hits harder.
You can see it.
The way something cracks open behind his guarded expression.
“Don’t,” he says quietly. “Don’t say stuff like that if you don’t mean it.”
“I mean it.”
Your hand finds his.
This time—
He doesn’t pull away.
“You don’t have to take care of me anymore,” you whisper. “But I still want to stay.”
summary: daryl is your safe person. you always felt the need to be touching him somehow— or to be involved in everything he was doing. but he enjoyed his space, and you pushed it to the limit unknowingly as tensions are high in camp.
warnings: fluff, hurt, mildly suggestive content
setting: post-hershel’s farm-ish
word count: 2k+
𝖘𝖋𝖜
you always knew daryl needed space the same way fire needed air. he craved it, since even before the dead started rising. he was a man built from silence, rough edges, old scars, and habits formed long before you ever stepped into his life. it's what made him the way he was.
he wasn't cruel—far from it actually—but affection still sat awkwardly on his shoulders. he could fight walkers with one hand, track deer through rain-soaked woods, and survive damn near anything: but when it came to you wrapping around him like ivy does to a wall?
that was harder.
you knew that you were clingy, but not because you meant to be. not because you were childish or needy— but because in a world where everything could be ripped away in an instant, you held tight to the few things that felt safe.
and it just so happens that daryl makes you feel safe. safer than you've ever felt since the day you were born.
daryl was the only one that gave you attention and wanted you around, like somehow deep down you were his safe thing too. you like to tell yourself that that's why he allowed himself to fall for you and for you to fall for him.
but that came with sacrificing his space that he always felt he needed, hell— even wanted.
you followed him through camp while he made his rounds on watch. sat beside him while he sharpened knives and bolts. curled into his side every night while he slept like your body knew exactly where it belonged. you reached for his hand constantly, tugged at his sleeve for attention, pressed yourself into his back while he cooked.
at first, he tolerated it with grunts and eye-rolls.
then he softened up, just a tad.
then he started leaning back into you and reciprocating your feelings. offering you small pecks on the lips when you were being too inseparable, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours every time you pouted in his direction.
however, like always, stress had a way of souring even good things. and hell was it stressful now that hershel's farm had been a bust: food was low, tempers were high, two supply runs had gone bad, and everyone was exhausted. especially daryl, who had been constantly hunting and scavenging for food and supply.
and you, sweet as ever, kept hovering.
"daryl," you said one afternoon, trailing after him through the peaceful stretch of woods. he had begged you to stay behind, where you'd be safe. but you didn't listen, will never listen to him if he tells you to stay anywhere that he isn't.
"you haven't eaten today." the concern laced in your voice made his eye twitch unintentionally. he knew that you meant the world when you spoke to him, but right now the stakes of survival were too high. and now he had to worry about you being out of safety with him.
"m'fine." he grumbled out lowly, wanting to focus on any danger that could be lurking.
"you said that yesterday too." you pointed out, annoyingly. he ignored you though, eyes still focused on the vast greenery that surrounded him and was supposed to make him feel better.
you stepped closer, slipping your arms around his waist from behind, cheek pressing between his shoulder blades. "sit with me for five minutes, take a break. you deserve it you know."
his whole body went rigid instead of relaxing. your body could practically predict what was going to happen as he pulled away from your touch, the force of it nearly knocking you down in front of him.
"can ya stop?" he muttered, voice beginning to twist into one laced with the annoyance he had been trying to suppress for your sake.
however, you just blinked at him. "stop what?"
"always bein' on me."
the words hit harder than they should have, causing your shoulders to slump in defeat immediately. "i was just—"
"i know what you were just doin'." he spun around, frustration burning across his face. now you knew just how ticked off he truly was. all because you cared about his well being.
"can't breathe half the damn time with you hangin' off me every second." the forest that seemed so loud with life two seconds ago had now gone quiet as your mind began to process his words, heart beating so fast that you swore you could hear it from outside your chest.
the air felt sharp. like it was stabbing you in the lungs, but at the sight of your face falling so quickly at his words made his anger die on impact. immediate regret flashed behind his steel blues.
"i didn't know i was bothering you," you said quietly, like you had shrunk down to nothing but an ant in his sharp gaze. "i just care about you."
he opened his mouth, but the damage was done. you're shaky voice had ripped the air from his lungs, but he couldn't move. he knew he fucked up in the snap of a finger.
daryl watched as you stepped back, swallowing hard. he knew you were going to walk away now, but didn't know if he should follow you. he just knew that when he returned later tonight, that you'll be there waiting for him and maybe then the tension would have cleared.
"sorry." just as he predicted, you walked back to camp on your own. his worry about your safety being undermined by the new onset of damage he had caused. his mind clouded by the anxiety that had erupted within his chest at the possibility of losing you.
the idiot he was. the whole time he was out in the woods, his second home, he couldn't concentrate. he just needed to go back to camp and figure things out.
when he arrived back at the makeshift camp that the group had set up the air still felt thick. later that night, you didn't come find him or curl into his sleeping bag like he predicted you would— didn't brush against him for warmth as the night air sent chills throughout your body. hell: you didn't even smile at him from across the fire that burned a little too cold now.
and daryl realized something ugly: the thing he thought annoyed him most was the thing he missed worst. your absence was louder than any noise you'd ever made.
and that night, he barely slept.
by morning, he found you a little bit aways from everyone else. he knew all too well that you had been isolating yourself. the position you had placed yourself in, knees tucked up to your chest with your arms wrapped tightly around them— staring out into the green abyss of trees, that you were growing depressed.
you looked tired too.
small.
something finally snapped in him as he seen the impact he had on you, he wanted to fix things. wether or not you'd take him back, he couldn't stand seeing you like that. seeing you with such a blank and numb expression, your posture failing you, like you had the weight of the world crushing your body into the cold, wet dirt.
but when he approached, you shifted like you meant to stand and leave. confirming his suspicions that you no longer wanted him around. a drastic difference in less than 24 hours.
"don't," he said quickly, before you could evade.
you froze.
daryl stood there awkwardly, hands flexing at his sides. the great hunter, tracker, fighter—utterly useless in front of one wounded girl. it was almost comical.
"i was mad— things are tense between everyone right now, " he muttered, catching you off guard but you said nothing in response. your words couldn't come to fruition even if you tried. "ain't an excuse."
you still said nothing, but you took in every single one of the words that spilt from his mouth.
he took a heavy stepped closer to you, as if you would run away if he spoke any further. however, he swallowed heavily and continued.
"truth is..." he scrubbed a hand over his face. "i ain't used to havin' someone care that much." your eyes flicked up, finally showing him that you were fully paying attention to what he had to say.
he swallowed hard once again, like the words he was about to stupidly say would make him melt into a puddle of emotional mush. "makes me mean sometimes. makes me scared."
"scared of what?" your voice was nothing but a whisper, but your words meant everything, held emotions that daryl couldn't wrap his head around.
his voice dropped rough and honest, "needin' it."
that cracked something open between you, the oxygen being sucked from your lungs proving it as you gasp lowly to yourself. you hadn't realized that this was how he felt, how deep down he felt like he wasn't worthy of being cared for. like his past effected his present and perhaps future, defining what he deserved.
you stood slowly, cautiously even. "daryl..." you wanted to reach out to him, but decided to let him make that move. you were still uneasy from yesterday's argument.
"i didn't mean none of it," he said, stepping closer until you had to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. "maybe i get overwhelmed. maybe i'm an ass. but i don't want ya thinkin' i don't want ya near me."
his hand then lifted, hesitant, brushing your jaw with a surprising gentleness. you immediately melted and stepped closer, barely any gaps left between your two bodies. "because I do."
your breath caught hard, making your chest rise but not fall.
"i want your hands on me. want you followin' me around. want you in my bed. want you botherin' me 'til i'm old and mean and gray." his confession was everything that you never thought you needed. it drew a watery laugh from deep within your chest, nose burning and eyes blurring with tears.
his thumb stroked your cheek. "missed ya like hell in one damn night." a light smile crossed his face. even if it was just for a moment, you cherished it.
you looked at him carefully though, not wanting to bring the mood down but needing to get how you felt off your chest. "you really hurt me."
"i know."
"and if you snap like that again?"
"then ya tell me i'm bein' stupid, slap me, punch me, knock some damn sense into me."
You smirked. "that all?"
"mah." he breathed out as his mouth twitched. "then i spend the rest'a the day makin' it up to ya."
heat curled low in your stomach at his words.
"oh?" you whispered, curious as to what he truly meant. the devious look that replaced the one of sadness caused butterflies to suddenly erupt in your stomach.
he stepped forward until your back met the hard bark of a treet, body crowding yours in that slow, dangerous way only he could manage. one hand braced beside your head, the other sliding to your waist with such care that you could melt.
"yeah," his lips hovered just above yours. "startin' now."
daryl then closed the finale distance that lingered too long between you, pressing his lips firmly to yours. the kiss was deep and apologetic all at once—slow at first, then hungry. like he'd truly starved himself overnight.
on instinct you tangled your fingers in his vest, pulling him closer by the collar.
"there she is," he murmured against your mouth. "my clingy girl."
you laughed breathlessly. "still on your nerves?" the sound of you making jokes again solidified that you had forgiven him and truthfully he was the happiest he has been in a long while.
"mm." he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the pulse in your neck. "drives me crazy." it was his turn to joke around with you— his hand sliding to the back of your thigh, lifting it around his hip.
"but i think i'm addicted to it." his voice raspy and sultry, whispering perfectly into your ear as he continued kissing everywhere but your lips. you shivered, whole body shaking beneath his hold.
"good," you whispered. he looked up, eyes dark and warm.
"why's that?"
you wrapped both arms around his neck and held tight.
c.w ⠀ⵗ⠀ heavy make out session , semi-public , sexual tension , risk of getting caught , suggestive content , grinding , groping w.c : 0.7k
notes ꗃ i’m in love with this scenario. ( wrote it in my notebook at college lol )
daryl is the worst person to be making out with in a place where you could easily get caught. not because he’s bad at it —quite the opposite— but because he is always too fucking paranoid. that man hears a leaf crunch from two blocks away and he’s already jerking back from your lips, muttering “someone’s comin’, hold on,” even though literally nobody is coming. and it’s because he’s spent his whole entire life hiding —from his father, from walkers, from danger, from people, from being seen— that the simple thought of being caught while being so intimately loving with his girl makes him flinch.
but now he’s got you pinned against the supply closet door in the armory hallway, kissing you like a starving man, fighting the urge to devour you whole, though every couple of seconds he stiffens like a spooked animal because “what if rick comes lookin’ f’ me” or “carol’s prolly nearby,” as if carol hasn’t already accepted she’ll find the two of you tangled together in your own mess eventually.
but the thing is, when he does kiss you? when he remembers nobody is around and the doors are shut and it’s just his breath mixing with yours? something snaps loose in him. his mouth gets rougher, hungrier. he cups your jaw and suddenly he’s kissing you with that messy desperation of his. and oh, he’s so painfully aware of the sounds he makes—the low little grunts he doesn’t realize slip out when your teeth catch his lip, the way his breathing goes ragged when your fingers slide under his vest, the way he sights when his tongue meets yours. he hates that anyone could hear it, and hates even more how you make him lose control enough that he can’t stay quiet. he’s always been loud in fights but quiet in wanting —almost afraid of it— affection is foreign to him, intimacy even more so; and when you get needy like this, he really, really needs privacy.
meanwhile, he’s all awkward and hesitant until you tug him closer by the collar of his shirt. from then on, his restraint just breaks—he presses his hips into yours without meaning to, swallows your gasps with lots of kisses, and lets his calloused hands slide down to your waist in his clumsy, greedy way. and in his desperate frenzy, you’ll feel his fingers shake the moment he grips your thigh to lift it around his hip. the reason? he’s never had someone let him touch them like this—slow and deliberate. wanted. not some bar hookup merle shoved him toward. not some body he didn’t even remember the name of. this is you. soft and warm and real and actually wanting him.
and then there’s the way the risk messes him up. he’ll pant against your mouth: “we shouldn’t… fuck, we shouldn’t be doin’ this here,” but he’s already sliding his hand up under your shirt, rough fingertips tracing your ribs like he’s memorizing you. he says you should stop, but his thumb is brushing the underside of your breast, and he’s groaning quietly when you roll your hips against him. he buries his face in your neck, breathing you in with this shaky exhale like he’s been deprived of this kind of touch his whole damn life. he kisses down your throat, slow and messy, leaving warm, damp little trails that make your knees go weak, and every time you make the tiniest sound he shudders with pleasure.
and just like that he’s all calloused hands gripping your waist too tight, rough breathing against your skin, and soft noises he’s embarrassed to make but can’t swallow down. he keeps whispering “we gotta stop,” even as he grinds against you, even as his mouth finds yours again with more hunger than before, even as he bites your lip and pulls back just to see the way you look at him. and he hates himself for wanting it so bad, for wanting you so bad, but the second you whisper his name he’s kissing you again like he hasn’t tasted anyone in years—because he hasn’t. because he’s been starving. because you’re the first thing he’s ever let himself have without feeling like he’s stealing it.
and even though every instinct tells him someone could open that hallway door and see the two of you flushed and pressed together, he still keeps coming back to your mouth like an addict.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’ve been scavenging and trying to survive the war against Negan and the Saviors—but lately, it’s hard to tell if you and Daryl are left fighting for more than just your lives.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Smut ⋮ Angst ⋮ Car Sex ⋮ Breeding ⋮ Hurt/Comfort ⋮ Established Relationship ⋮ Cigarettes After Sex ~ Young & Dumb
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.631 ⋮ 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: late S7 & early S8 ⋮ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Fem!Reader
You and Daryl had been together for quite a while now, though it didn't feel like it anymore. Not really.
Both of you had your walls built high at first, but over time, things changed. The feelings between you grew, as did the undeniable desire. It wasn't soft or tender; it was raw and real. When you weren't scavenging for supplies, you were stealing moments with him—rough, sloppy kisses and even harder fucks, the kind that left you both breathless and craving more.
But lately, it hadn't been that easy.
Daryl had grown distant.
The world had gone to hell, and somehow, the quiet had become the loudest thing about your relationship.
It had been days since the war against Negan and his Saviors started. Everyone seemed scared—no one knew when the next fight would happen or if it would even be a fight and not the end. But you had your role.
Scavenging.
You were good at it, or at least, that's what you'd tell yourself when you were on a run. You were good at finding what no one else could, but your choices? Well, Daryl didn't always appreciate them.
You'd found bullets, medical supplies, tools, and even weapons on occasion. But you had a thing for bringing back things he called 'useless bullshit.'
While Daryl's always been practical—focused on things that kept the group alive—your mind wandered to… other things. Things that didn't make sense during the war against Negan, like a book, a mirror you found at a broken-down store, or some postcards you scavenged last week.
It wasn't like you planned it. It was a distraction. The communities were falling apart, and if you could find something that made you feel a bit more human, even just for a minute, you grabbed it. But Daryl? He couldn't understand. You could see it in his eyes whenever he found out you came back with something that didn't make any sense, he'd growl and shake his head. And you hated how that felt. Especially since he'd escaped the Sanctuary only days ago and you were so happy to have him back by your side.
Sure, he'd fuck you when you asked, but it was always that quick, no feelings but routine kind of fuck. And even then, it didn't feel like it was enough.
Maybe it was the tension from the war with the Saviors; maybe it was the ever-present danger—but the way he looked at you lately… it was just so different. Frustrated. Annoyed.
But it didn't matter to you. You were bored with scavenging for the same shit over and over again. It was easier, and it felt like your own little rebellion against the monotony.
Daryl's silence and his glares were enough. But still, you kept doing it—finding things that served no purpose, hoping it would get under his skin. And it did.
The store you chose for the supply run was quiet except for Daryl's grumbling from a few aisles over. It wasn't much different from the last stores you'd scavenged. No walkers, empty shelves, old signs thrown everywhere, and the reminder of a world that used to make sense.
"Grab somethin' useful, would ya?" Daryl's voice came through the silence, and you could hear how annoyed he already was. He'd been in a mood since you set foot out of Alexandria, and he wasn't bothering to hide it.
"Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, not wanting to look up as you searched through a box on the counter. Daryl's idea of usefulness was a wrench, a roll of duct tape, or maybe a box of nails if you were lucky enough to find one. Your idea? Not so much.
You turned over a cassette tape, smirking as the name caught your eye—Cigarettes After Sex. The world had gone to hell, and here you were looking through its ashes, scavenging a tape that probably hadn't been played in a while. Useless as hell. Exactly the kind of thing that you wanted and needed.
And then there was the other find—a pink lace lingerie set shoved to the back of a dusty rack of mismatched clothes. It was ridiculous. Completely impractical. Which made it perfect.
You went into the tiny bathroom at the back of the store to try it on, biting your lip to keep from laughing at yourself as you adjusted the straps. The mirror was cracked, the lighting awful, but the sight of you standing there, wearing something so out of place in a world like this? It was too good. If Daryl saw it… well, that was the point, wasn't it?
Slipping back out of the bathroom, you walked over to another shelf, pretending to search for something useful during the supply run, and Daryl was still focused as you took a glance at him. He wasn't in the mood to talk, not that he ever was these days.
"Got everything we might need?" You asked, keeping your voice light and playful, knowing full well that he wasn't in the mood for any of it.
"Yeah, and yer jus' wastin' time, s'usual," he grumbled quietly, turning around to face you.
You rolled your eyes, moving to another aisle before you heard him exhale loudly, and it was clear that his patience was already going away. That was just how things were now. The world had changed, and so had your relationship.
But it wasn't long before Daryl caught you with something else. A hairbrush.
"Seriously?" He snapped, the tone in his voice rather harsh. "Ya can't help yerself, can ya? We're in the middle of a damn war, and yer scavengin' shit like it's a goddamn mall run!"
You shot him a look, biting back a scowl. "Life's gotta feel normal sometimes, Daryl," you said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "It's not all about the damn war."
He gritted his teeth, slamming the tools he'd found into his bag with more force than necessary. "Ya don't get it," he growled. "Yer actin' as if everythin's still the same like we're not fightin' for our lives."
You couldn't help yourself, and you refused to back down. "You really think all we need to focus on is to fight? Do you think that's enough? We're still alive, Daryl. We're still here. We need to feel… something."
He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "Don't know what ya want from me," he growled, almost to himself. "Ya need t'grow the hell up."
The words hurt more than you wanted to admit. But you wouldn't let him get away with it. "And you need to loosen up," you snapped back just a bit too loud.
Daryl was about to say something, but you didn't wait to hear it. You turned around, making your way toward the exit, feeling the fire of his stare burning into your back.
"Thought we were lookin' for actual supplies," he grumbled as you stepped into the sunlight outside and he walked past you. The bags over his shoulder looked ready to burst with everything you hadn't bothered to help him find. "Ya even find somethin' useful, or ya jus' wastin' time again?"
"I found stuff, Daryl," you shot back. "Might not be practical, but at least it's not boring."
"Yeah, s'great. Let's throw a damn party while we're at it."
"Maybe we should," you said. "Wouldn't kill us to relax for once."
He stopped walking, so suddenly you almost ran into him. "Ain't 'bout relaxin'," he said, his voice only a whisper. "Ain't been 'bout relaxin' in a long time."
You stared at him, your heart racing. "Maybe that's the problem," you said softly, but the words only seemed to push him further away.
By the time you reached the car, the silence between you felt suffocating. He threw his bags into the trunk, then leaned against the side of the car, lighting a cigarette.
"What'd ya even find?" He finally growled, throwing his bag into the backseat.
"Stuff," you said simply, throwing your own bag in after his. "Like I said."
"Stuff," he repeated, his tone sounding rather biting. "Right."
You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "Maybe not everything has to be about the war, Daryl. Ever think about that?"
"Yeah, maybe it don't. But that ain't the world we're livin' in."
"Oh, so this is about you giving a shit all of a sudden?" You shot back before you could stop it.
His jaw twitched, and for a second, you thought he might yell, but he didn't. Instead, he opened the driver's side door and climbed in, slamming it shut behind him. You stood there for a long moment, staring at him through the window, your heart pounding in your chest.
When you finally got in, he didn't even look your way, throwing out the cigarette before turning the engine on, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.
"What's your problem, Daryl?"
He didn't answer right away. Just stared straight ahead, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Maybe this," he said finally, "ain't workin' no more."
The words hit you harder than you expected. For a moment, all you could do was sit there, staring at him, trying to make sense of what he'd just said.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
He didn't answer, and the look on his face made it worse. It wasn't anger, but something else entirely.
"Say it," you pressed, leaning forward, your voice trembling despite yourself.
He shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead. "Ain't got nothin' to say to ya no more."
You wanted to slap him, shake him, kiss him—anything to break through that damn wall he kept building.
A while later, you slumped against the passenger door, staring out at the trees rushing past. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out the cassette tape you'd scavenged earlier, but you hesitated for a while, glancing at Daryl, but his focus was fully on the road.
"Fuck it," you whispered, more to yourself than to him, and slid the tape into the car's stereo.
The opening of 'Young & Dumb' filled the silence with the kind of sound that wrapped around you like smoke. You leaned back in your seat, closing your eyes as the music played. The lyrics came out of the speakers, which now felt bittersweet, and without thinking, you started to hum along. By the second verse, you were singing softly in a shaky attempt to drown out the pain in your heart.
...wearing black lipstick, bleaching your hair blonde…
...put on your socks...
...cut-offs or jean shorts, vampire fangs and your...
...'I Love New York' shirt…
Your voice cracked slightly, but you kept going. Anything to distract from the growing knot in your stomach, the one that had been there since Daryl's cold words outside the store. You could feel his eyes on you now, looking over at you like a blade pressed against your throat. But you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt; you wanted to hide it.
"Turn that shit off."
You ignored him, letting the song pull you further in with a melody that you just needed to listen to right now.
...well, I know full well...
...that you are the patron saint of sucking cock...
...señorita, you're a cheater...
...well, so am I…
"Jesus fuckin' Christ." Daryl's hand shot out, turning the volume down, though the music still played in the background. "What the hell is this shit?"
"Music," you shot back, but you didn't look at him, keeping your eyes on the passing trees. "Something you clearly forgot exists."
Daryl just snorted in response. "Yeah, 'cause what we need right now's a fuckin' sing-along. So damn useless."
You clenched your fists in your lap. "Sorry if I'm not looking through shit for duct tape," you snapped. "Didn't realize music was illegal now."
"It ain't 'bout music; s'bout survival!" His voice rose, the frustration boiling over as he slammed his hand on the steering wheel.
You didn't respond. Again. What was the point? Every word felt like throwing gasoline on a fire you couldn't control. Instead, you turned your attention back to the tape, singing the words of the next verse.
...you wanna go...
...where the girls are young and dumb...
...and hot as fuck...
You didn't stop. No. You turned toward him and leaned closer, moving slightly to the beat. Your fingers tapped against your thigh in time with the music, and you kept singing just a little louder.
God, he was so easy to rile up when you wanted to. Weeks of quick fucks and rushed moments between runs had left you frustrated and aching for more—more attention, more sex, more him.
"What? Don't like my singing? Or are you mad that I'm not as sad and devastated as you want me to be? Want me to break down and cry painfully in the car?"
His eyes looked toward you again, and you saw the fire in them this time—the way they stayed on the curves of your body, watching every move you made.
But you licked with your tongue across your bottom lip and sang further along with the song. "Where they're dancing in the streets... With nothing on..."
"S'nough!" Daryl snapped out of nowhere, yanking the car to the side of the road so abruptly the tires kicked up a cloud of dust. The engine growled before going silent, leaving nothing but the music from the cassette tape and the pounding of your heart.
He turned to you, his face unreadable. "What the fuck is wrong with ya, huh?!"
You stared back at him, wide-eyed, your breath stopping in your throat. "Me? What the fuck is wrong with you!?" The words came out before you could stop them. "You're the one acting like—like I'm some kind of burden! Like you can't stand to be around me anymore!"
Daryl didn't answer.
"You might as well say it," you continued, your voice breaking. "If you don't want me around anymore, just fucking say it! Do it, Dary! Just fucking do it! Let this be over!"
"Don't," he said, his voice only a whisper.
"Don't what?" You demanded, your voice rising. "Care about you?! Love you!?"
You didn't mean to say it. The words just came out of you all desperately, and you saw the way they hit him. He still stared at you, his hand gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from slapping you across the face.
For a moment, you thought he might actually do it. Then something changed. His gaze dropped, looking at the skin of your collarbone, where the neckline of your shirt had slipped just enough to reveal a bit of the lingerie.
"The hell's that?" He growled, trying not to blink even once.
You froze, your heart racing in your chest. "Nothing!" You said quickly, but the lie wasn't convincing enough, and Daryl's eyes narrowed.
Without warning, he leaned forward, his fingers grabbing the collar of your shirt to pull it down just enough to confirm what he already suspected. The sight of the lingerie seemed to shock him for a moment, his breath hitching as his eyes widened.
"Ya gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled, though his voice had lost some of its earlier anger. It was quieter now, almost trembling, like he was fighting something he didn't want to admit.
"Don't start," you warned, though your voice came out weaker than you intended.
But his reaction alone was worth every ounce of trouble you were about to get into.
"Yer outta yer damn mind," he said, his voice rougher now, like he was barely holding himself back. "Gonna fuckin' kill ya..."
And the way he leaned toward you, his hands now gripping his knees like he was about to break, told you he was feeling something else entirely. Was it anger? Lust? Both? "Puttin' on some shitty slow music, draggin' useless shit back as always like we ain't got a damn war t'fight?"
"Well, if you didn't spend so much time worrying about everything," you said in defiance, "you might actually see that sometimes, we need to calm down a little. Got any problem with that, Daryl?"
The muscles in his neck flexed as he turned towards you fully. "To calm down?"
You couldn't tell if you were mad or if you were just doing this to get a reaction out of him—but you could feel the rage between the two of you like a storm that was brewing.
"Ya think this—" He motioned to the car, to you, to everything around you. "—this s'a damn spa trip? That I can jus' keep watchin' ya act like everythin's fine? Like it's all gonna work out without ya dyin' in the end?"
"Shut up, Daryl, I get it! I've been getting it since day fucking one, weeks ago! But it feels like we've been stuck in this shit for months!"
There was no way to hide from the look in his eyes. He saw everything—everything you'd been trying to keep buried. The way you didn't try to give a shit about the war, the way you needed something to feel in a world that had stripped you again of every little thing you didn't want to lose. And this—this was your rebellion. The lingerie was just a part of it, a pitiful attempt in the face of everything going wrong.
He shook his head like he couldn't believe you were this reckless. "S'a damn waste. Yer a damn waste..."
You clenched your jaw, feeling the tears in your eyes and fighting them back, completely trying to focus on the music.
But despite the fight, despite the anger, you couldn't help but want it. Want him.
And Daryl didn't wait for an answer. His hands shot out again, this time grabbing you by the waist and yanking you over with force. He pulled you onto his lap, your knees awkwardly pressing into the car's seat, your thighs straddling his. The steering wheel pushed into your back as his hands dug into your hips, his grip bruising and possessive, and his eyes, dark and wild, held yours in place.
"Could really fuckin' kill ya…"
His fingers moved fast, pulling off your jacket and tearing at your shirt without hesitation before ripping it off. You barely had time to react before he was yanking at your pants. Soon, he got them down just enough, pushing them away like they offended him.
And then, there it was—the lingerie you'd scavenged, fully visible, old, and a little worn. It wasn't perfect, but it had been enough to make you feel human for just a moment. Now, under his gaze, it felt both ridiculous and utterly electric at the same time.
Daryl scoffed as his eyes looked you up and down. "This what ya wanted, huh?" His fingers slid over the lace, touching it in a way that betrayed his anger. "To piss me off so I'd fuck ya?"
You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out but a choked sob.
"Fuckin' dumb," he mumbled, but his hands didn't stop. They wandered, moving along your thigh where the lace garter was before pushing you down against the bulge in his pants.
The feeling made you whimper, and you couldn't stop the way your body arched toward him, desperate for more. His smirk was almost cruel as he watched your reaction, his hands moving over your thighs, squeezing, teasing, but never giving you exactly what you wanted.
Not yet.
You swallowed hard, the heat in his eyes making it impossible to look away. "I wanted to see if you still cared…" You admitted, your voice shaking slightly, but you didn't break eye contact, even as a tear rolled down your cheek.
"Ya think I don't care?"
You gasped, your fingers clutching his shoulders as his hands slid lower, gripping your ass, pulling you even closer against him until you could feel every inch of his cock pressing against you through his pants.
"Ya really think I don't care?" He asked again as his grip tightened, and he pulled you closer, his lips kissing your tears away as he spoke.
"I care," he whispered against your wet skin. "I care too much…"
And you believed him. Every word.
Meanwhile, the lingerie didn't stand a chance; it gave way under his fingers, leaving you half naked as quickly as he could get you out of it.
He worked his pants open right after and the sight of him made your heart race—his cock, thick and already leaking, sprang free, throbbing and unapologetically hard. Your mouth watered, but before you could even think about reaching for it, his hands were on you again.
"C'mon… I need ya so damn much…"
He pushed one hand under your thigh, guiding you up just enough to position himself. His other hand slid between your legs, his thumb brushing over your clit in a way that made you jerk, your nails digging into his shoulders.
You trembled as the head of his cock pressed against you, the feeling almost overwhelming. But he moved slowly, pushing you down inch by inch. The stretch was intense, almost too much, and your fingers clutched at him as a broken moan and another sob escaped you.
"Feel that? I want ya… Always."
You couldn't respond, couldn't think, your body trembling as he pushed deeper. The fullness was maddening, his cock stretching you to your limit. He didn't stop until your hips were against his, your thighs trembling against his own and making you feel every inch of him.
Your forehead dropped to his shoulder, your breathing uneven as you tried to adjust. He didn't move, didn't thrust, just held you there, his hands keeping you in place.
"Look at me," he whispered against your ear as soon as he moved. When you bit into his shoulder in desperation to hold your tears back, he grabbed your jaw, forcing your eyes to look into his. "Don't cry…"
Your mouth opened, but no words came out again, just a broken whimper as he changed his angle, hitting the right spot inside you which made you tighten around him.
Daryl's thrusts were deep and torturously slow like he wanted to see every second of watching you fall apart on top of him. He let out a quiet groan as you moved against him, your body desperate for more even as he made you work for it. One of his hands slid up your back, holding your neck before pulling your face forward, his teeth biting softly along the sensitive skin of it.
"Ya feel that, too?" He mumbled over the sound of your uneven moans. "That's me. M' still me…"
The car was rocking slightly with each movement as he buried himself inside you, over and over. His grip was controlling, and every deep grind of his hips made your vision blur. When your body trembled harder, your thighs beginning to shake with the effort, he slowed down just a bit.
"I care…" His hands guided you, forcing you to grind down onto him, his cock pushing against every sensitive spot until you were moaning his name in broken sobs and whimpers, and his lips kissed your cheek as he continued. "I want ya to feel me…"
When his hips pushed up on purpose, driving his cock impossibly deeper, you cried out, your body tightening around him hard. Daryl grunted in shock, but you didn't care. All you could focus on was the way his cock stretched you, filled you, and claimed you back with every movement.
"Mine," he growled, his teeth now sinking lightly into your bottom lip as he thrust into you. "All mine..."
He kept his hands on you, one still gripping your waist, to guide you down onto him. The other soon moved over your body again, squeezing one of your tits, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple.
"That's it," he growled. "Jus' let yerself feel me. Don't stop."
His words spurred you on, your thighs trembling as you rode him, the feeling of his cock inside you just perfect. You threw your head back as it overtook you, moaning loudly, but Daryl wasn't having it. One hand was back on your jaw in an instant, forcing your eyes down to meet his.
"Eyes on me…"
You simply obeyed, looking into his eyes all helpless.
"Don't ya look away," he groaned, teasing your lips softly with his. His thrusts became faster, his other hand gripping you so tightly you knew you'd have bruises tomorrow. But you didn't care. You wanted it, loved the way he was making sure you're all his.
"Daryl, please," you suddenly whispered, your voice trembling as the need in you burned hotter. "I—fuck—I need more. Harder, faster… please!"
"God, look at ya," he groaned further. "Shakin' for me, beggin', lovin' me…"
"Yes," you choked out, your nails digging into his shoulders as another deep thrust pushed you closer to the edge. "Please, Daryl—Fuck, I'm so close…"
Before you could finish, he slammed into you, the force of it pushing out the breath from your lungs as he hit the right spot again, making you cry out with this hard, punishing thrust, and it was enough to send you over the edge.
Your pussy tightened around his cock, a strangled but loud moan escaping you as your orgasm finally overtook you, and every cry muffled when he crushed his lips against yours, swallowing your desperate sounds.
And even as your body shook with the force of your orgasm, he didn't stop. His thrusts remained deep and hard, drawing out every second of it until you were trembling in his arms. But Daryl's control was breaking with each thrust like he couldn't hold back anymore himself.
Each time he slammed you down onto him, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock filling you so completely it left you gasping and wanting him all over again. His eyes were now closed, his forehead pressing against yours as he growled. "That's all me—every inch. Takin' what's mine..."
With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing as his orgasm hit. His growl turned into a loud groan, his body tensing up beneath you as he filled you up and made sure you felt every drop.
As soon as he was done, he slumped back against the seat, holding you in his arms while you were both drenched in sweat and neither of you moving just yet.
"Ya should…" He started, his voice hoarse, while he moved his head to look at you. "Ya should never put that song and 'em clothes on again if ya don't want this to happen more than jus' once…"
Your laugh came out breathless and shaky as you let the moment sink in. "And what if I do?"
He snorted, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as his lips pressed a kiss to your temple. "Jus' to let ya know… yer lucky I didn't already fuck ya in that store."
He moved slightly, his cock softening as he slipped out of you, and your legs felt weak as you slid off his lap, your thighs still sticky. You tried to move carefully, your fingers fumbling to quickly adjust your clothes, but there was no hiding the cum between your legs. Every little movement made you wince, reminding you of how deep he'd been inside of you—and how much he'd wanted you.
Daryl didn't say a word at first. His breathing was still heavy, his chest rising and falling like he'd just run a marathon. You saw his hands tremble as he zipped himself up, and for a man who always seemed so silent, it was rare to see him like this—wrecked, raw, and a little out of breath.
Reaching for the seatbelt to get a better grip as you made your way back into the passenger seat, you hesitated, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His expression wasn't angry anymore or frustrated. If anything, it looked softer now—like he was finally letting himself breathe after holding it in too long.
Before you could settle back, his hand shot out, grabbing you by the wrist. You froze, heart racing, as he pulled you back toward him. His free hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before he kissed you.
This wasn't like before. There was no anger to it, no frustration coming through. His lips were warm and gentle, moving against yours like he was trying to tell you everything he hadn't said.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours once more. "Ya gotta clean yerself up 'fore we head back. Can't have ya sittin' in this seat, drippin' everywhere."
Your cheeks burned, and you shoved him back lightly, but he didn't let go. If anything, his grip only tightened, his hand sliding down to your thigh as he looked at you.
"Hell, maybe I'll help. Or…" He let you go, nodding toward the glove box. "There's some clean rags in there."
You rolled your eyes but did as he said, grabbing a few and making a half-hearted attempt to clean yourself up. His cum was thick and sticky, and no matter how much you wiped, it felt like there was no getting rid of it, as if it just kept coming.
Daryl watched you the whole time, smiling a little like he was enjoying the show more than he should. "Missed a spot," he said, leaning over to slide his thumb against the inside of your thigh. He brought it to his mouth without hesitation, his eyes looking into yours as he sucked it clean.
"Oh my God! What the hell are you doing?" You asked in surprise, barely holding back a laugh.
He just smirked at you. "Ya can jus' call me Daryl, ya know? But 'God' 's fine s' well."
You just laughed again, but your cheeks turned red as you tried to focus on buttoning your pants, and he let you finish this time until you finally settled back into the passenger seat.
Soon, he turned the engine on, but before he pulled back onto the road, his hand was finding your thigh. He gave it a quick squeeze and left it there, which was saying more than words could.
You smiled despite yourself, leaning your head back against the seat as the car started moving. Whatever had been between you, it was gone now. For the first time in a while, it felt like you were both on the same page again.
Meanwhile, the song that you had listened to earlier on the cassette tape started all over where it had left off, and before you could stop yourself, you found yourself singing along again.
"We'll drive your car to the beach with the song on repeat…" You sang softly as you closed your eyes for a second, but this time without any feeling of sadness or hurt. "You showed me..."
Daryl didn't say anything for a few minutes, but his eyes were looking from the road to you ever so often, as if he couldn't bring himself to look away, fearing that you might be not there anymore, by his very side, even though he held so tightly onto you with his fingers.
"Ya know," he then finally said, breaking the silence between the two of you, "we might jus' do that." His words were quiet, but they were a promise, a suggestion of something simpler—something outside of the war, outside of everything.
That was what you needed. Something real, something between the two of you that wasn't starting to break by the constant threat of danger, something more than just scavenging or fighting for survival. A moment where it was just you and Daryl. Together.
As you began to put your jacket back on, Daryl's hand moved out to stop you. He tugged at it, pulling it off your shoulders gently.
"Hell of a thing to find," he said with a smirk before he reached over, turning the volume up of the stereo.
"Thought you hated all this 'useless' stuff," you teased, running your fingers over the lingerie, or rather, what was left of it.
"Stuff... Yeah, I guess I jus' never really understood why ya did all that," he confessed, his voice quiet, like it took everything in him to say the words. "But I get it now. I do."
It was some kind of understanding that maybe the war wouldn't ever truly go away, but there was still something worth holding onto.
Daryl moved in his seat, his hand never leaving your thigh. "We gonna drive to that beach," he murmured, his voice so tender it almost seemed out of place for a man like him. "And we'll figure the rest out as we go."
Sure, the beach wasn't an actual destination—you both knew that. The final war against Negan was still about to happen. And, of course, Daryl wasn't saying everything, but he didn't need to. He never had to. With him, it was the little things—moments like this, where everything felt just a bit more certain and safer.
In this moment, the world outside the car didn't matter. The war, the fear, the uncertainty of what lay ahead—it all went away, leaving only the two of you.
And right now, with his hand on your thigh and the music drowning out everything else, it felt like maybe, for just a little while longer, the world didn't have to exist beyond the both of you.
I hope to improve as I keep writing, thanks for the support!
Killer Within
Words: 1,123
Daryl Dixon x Rick Grimes Sibling (implied)
Fluffy, Hurt/Comfort
Prison Era , 3x4 Aftermath
Whatever this unspoken thing between you and Daryl was, it didn't matter, it was important to you and frankly, it was the only thing keeping your head above water.
❤︎
There was a short set of stairs that led out of the cell block, it was the perfect place for a smoke. The short time you’d been at the prison, it’d become a place both you and Daryl would frequent. Tonight though you hoped maybe he wouldn’t come, you wanted some alone time, or did you.
Little ass kicker, as Daryl called her, had finally come into the world but at no spare of expense to you and your family. Lori was gone and Rick was on the fritz, the worst part was that you had nothing to say to their son Carl. For God’s sake, you couldn’t even look at baby Judith, let alone hold her, and it made it worse that Daryl could.
Watching his face soften while holding her in his strong arms, so delicately, it drove you crazy for so many reasons. In any other scenario, in any other world you would’ve been sure you’d get over it eventually. But not in this world, not this timeline, it all felt so definite, all the pain.
So, you’d escaped outside and sat on the stairs where you lit up your first of what would probably be many cigarettes, and before long you began to cry. It wasn’t a good cry, there wasn’t much that could come out. You’d grown so numb after living in a world like this, but the loss was still real and you’d have to mourn it like one.
Just as the first few tears fell, you heard the door creak open behind you. You wiped the tears gently from your own face with your free hand, in no hurry to make a scene. You already knew who it was, you could sense his presence. You watched his shadow cross the wall across from you before he sat down at your side. You looked at him, trying subtly to hide your tear stained face behind your hair.
Daryl knew you’d been crying but he wouldn’t dare mention it, he knew better than to do that to you. He knew better because he paid attention to you, too much attention he sometimes thought.
“Hey” he said softly
“Hey.” you replied
You let the silence fall between you, offering Daryl the pack of cigarettes. His hand brushed yours as he took it from you, in that brief moment it felt like your humanity was restored. You’d always forgotten how important it was just to be with people. Of course your first reaction to something difficult being to self isolate. Daryl knew that, besides, he was the same way.
Your sudden awareness of your ignorance to just how much Daryl Dixon paid attention to your behavior made you roll your eyes silently, and then smile.
“You alright?” He asked, you could tell he was dying to ask.
You looked over at him with a blank face, unsure of how to answer him, honestly or sugarcoated. You knew what Daryl would prefer but you weren’t quite in the mood for vulnerability.
“Yeah” you replied faintly, before turning your head away from him again.
“You were close.” He stated.
It took you a moment to realize he was referring to you and Lori. It made your heart sink and melt at the same time. Maybe you hadn’t expected Daryl to care enough to ask.
“We were.” You said in defeat.
Silence fell between you again and Daryl could tell you were already exhausted by the conversation. But he wanted so badly to get to the bottom of this, to stop you from spiraling. Daryl knew all too well what it felt like to lose someone, a sibling too.
“He’s gonna be just fine...your brother.” He said. You could feel his eyes barring a hole into the side of your face as you continued to look ahead at the yard.
“I can’t even hold her.” You said, almost in a whisper, the shame and disbelief apparent in your voice.
It took Daryl a moment to understand. Then he took the last puff of his cigarette before putting it out. He wanted to approach this as delicately as possible, but he didn’t exactly know how.
“You got no reason to feel bad. You need time…so does Rick.”
You looked at him suddenly, with a little annoyance but then with consideration. You swore everytime Daryl was nice to you it felt like he was joking. Your face softened as you reasoned with yourself, and here you thought Daryl was the one with his walls up. You smiled slightly, not able to conjure anything in response.
You put out your cigarette with the bottom of your boot and settled your head against your arms, wrapped around your knees. Moments passed as you took in the silence and the chilled night air on your face, you began to relax into yourself. Daryl's presence of course being the main source of your comfort. It was starting to worry you, the amount you relied on him.
Eventually you spoke, “This might be the only way I sleep.” You said jokingly.
You heard Daryl put out the last of his cigarette and after a long pause, “Let me help” He said. You could tell by the tone of his voice, he wasn’t asking.
You looked back to see him motioning for you to come closer. You didn’t give it much thought before leaning back into his arms. Carefully you settled into him, your head meeting the inside of his shoulder first. You both adjusted your bodies to come closer together and Daryl wrapped his arm around you.
The moment you were settled, neither of you dared move. For the first few moments the tension was palpable, but as you both relaxed you began to melt into each other. There was that silent understanding between the two of you and you sat there comfortably for a while together.
“Fall asleep, I'll have to carry you inside” Daryl said jokingly, though it almost sounded like he was suggesting it.
“In your dreams.” You said with a smile that Daryl could almost hear.
He pulled you closer, and you tried to soak in the momentary peace you felt. With Daryl your troubles seemed so far away, so you relaxed, closing your eyes.
❤︎
Light poured over your face and you awoke, realizing where you were. I guess Daryl was right, he had carried you to your cell afterall. That was the first thing you’d thought of this morning, not about your troubles but about Daryl. That’s when you knew you were in trouble.
pairing; no apocalypse au! Daryl x f! best friend! reader
summary; Merle's being an asshole and Daryl has some pent up feelings.
warnings; NSFW, minors do not interact , spanking, rough sex, penetration, oral, mdom to msub, fsub to fdom, verbal abuse (usage of words like slut, whore bitch), little sprinkle of angst, friends to… something delicious and complicated
word count; 3,320 - I’m so sorry I got into this one so it is long.
authors note; I told you I was craving some daryl smut- also whiny daryl is so hot 🥰🥰 ALSO this gif oh my god
You curled up on the pullout in the trailer, watching as the Dixon brothers and Merle’s strange pals chatted away at the table.
A blockade of empty beer cans were scattered across the floor, rattling with each tap of Merle’s foot.
You sighed, the trailer was heating up like a tin can in the summer sun.
“What’s the matter?” Daryl asked, leaning back in his chair and looking over to you.
“It’s fuckin’ hot.” You wiped the sweat from your forehead.
He huffed as a response, getting up from the chair and opening the trailer door.
“Better?”
“Not really.” You shot back, flicking to another page in your book.
“Are you taking orders from this bitch now?” Merle drawled, smoke curling out of his mouth as he leaned back in his chair.
“Shut up Merle.” Daryl grunted, flicking his lighter once, then twice before the cigarette caught light.
“You gotta give the orders baby brother,” He leaned forward, elbows on the tables. “Go on, tell her. Get me another beer, bitch. Ain't that how it works?”
Daryl took a slow drag of his cigarette, like he hadn't heard him.
“C’mon boy - or what, she got you trained already?.” Merle jeered, knocking Daryl’s shoulder with his fist.
Daryl’s jaw tightened, smoke slipping out through his nose as he avoided your eyes.
“C’mon. Y’cant say that to your precious girl, that it?” Merle spat “she’s just another slut, Daryl.”
“Shut it, Merle.” Daryl spat back, still not looking at you “Leave her out of it.”
Merle grinned at that, like he’d hit something soft. “Aw, look at you.” He leaned back, dragging it out. “All worked up over a piece of ass.” Then, louder. “You’re a quiverin’ puss, little brother.”
Your jaw tightened.
“Hey,” Merle snapped his fingers at you, turning his attention fully your way. “C’mere, doll. Get us a beer.”
“Drop dead, Merle” you shot back, standing up from your perch on the pullout.
He laughed, loud and ugly.
“Ohhh, she’s got teeth now, huh slut.” Merle laughed and shot a look over to Daryl “Well look, she's got bigger balls than you.”
“Merle-“ Daryl interjected, finally glancing up - but it was too late.
“I’m outta here.” You turned for the door, pushing past Merle.
You barely made it to the step before a fist tangled in your hair, yanking you backwards.
“Y’heard what I said. Merle growled, leaning in to sniff the back of your neck. “Get us a beer, bitch.” He spat, causing white hot rage to course through your body.
You looked over to Daryl and he didn't move.
You drove your knee back hard into Merle’s shin. He cursed, grip loosening just enough for you to wrench free.
You didn’t look at him again. Didn’t look at either of them.
“Thanks a ton, Daryl” you spat, slamming the trailer door behind you.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏
You started to walk up the dirt path, making your way towards your trailer.
“Hold up!” You heard Daryl shout from behind you, the tin trailer door shutting behind him.
“Fuck off.” You shouted behind you
“Stop.” He muttered, catching up to you.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“What did I fuckin’ do?” He muttered keeping up with you as you picked up your pace.
“Just fuck off.”
“Hey- what’s yer fuckin’ problem, you’re acting like a bitch” he blurted out, his brow furrowing in frustration.
You spun on your heel to face him, your ears steaming.
“You’re not Merle, Daryl. Fucks sake what the hell is your problem?”
“My problem? You’re the one fuckin’ stormin’ out and shit!” He shouted back at you
“I stormed out ‘cos you guys are fuckin’ dicks.” You spat
“We’re having a laugh-“ he began before you cut him off.
“You know that’s not true. Your drugged up loser of a brother is an asshole. He’s a sex pest, an abuser, a racist-“
“That’s Merle.” Daryl cut you off, like nothing you said was a problem.
“Exactly. I’m not hanging around you when you’re actin’ like that.”
“You think you’re so above us.” He spat
“Above you? Daryl, look where we are?” You gestured to the trailer park.
“You’re not like us, you’re not some redneck bum. That’s what you think of us isn’t it?” he shouted, his face red and his eyes glassy.
“Daryl-“ you were cut off by the feeling of his hand on your wrist.
“Fuckin’ bitch, my brother thinks I’m fuckin’ pussy whipped cause of you.”
You furrowed your brow, growing a little confused as he closed the space between you.
“You’re fuckin’ with my head woman.”his voice dropped, rawer now, less like he was trying to win and more like he didnt know what to do with himself.
“Daryl-“
“Don’t.” His grip on your wrist tightened for a second, then loosened just as quick - like he caught himself. His eyes flicked over your face, searching and angry - but something else hidden underneath it. “You don’t get it. You don’t-” He cut himself off, jaw clenching.
You swallowed, your voice softer now. “Then tell me.”
He let out a sharp breath like it had been trapped there for a while. “Ain’t that easy.”
There was a pause, thick and heavy. The kind that made your chest tighten, your palms sweat. You should’ve pulled away, stropped off, telling him to go fuck himself. Part of you was screaming to. But you didn't.
“If I'm such a bitch, why’d you come out here?” You bit back, the softness in your voice retreating. You pulled your arm away from his and stepped back.
His eyes snapped back to yours. That did it
For a second he just stared at you, breathing hard like he was trying to make his mind up. Then his hand came back to your wrist - not as rough as before, but still there.
“You don’t know what you’re askin’.” He whispered, his eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips.
A surge of courage rose in your chest.
“Then don't make it a question.” You bit your lip, the heat between your thighs beginning to pool in your underwear.
Silence, again - but different now. Like electricity surged in the air.
“You’re such a tease. You’re fuckin’ using me like your little boyfriend, well I ain’t.” He lashed out his eyes small slits, his nose mere centimetres away.
“If I’m such a fuckin’ slut then fuck me.” You spat back, looking dead into his eyes. He exhaled, hard.
“Fuck~” he closed his eyes momentarily.
You thought maybe that was it. That he’d walk off.
“Don’t say shit like that if you don't mean it.” he said, voice coarse, but no bite behind it.
“I mean it.” You blurted out, surprising yourself.
Another moment passed. His hand came up - hesitated - then settled, cupping your jaw. First soft, giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t and that was all the answer he needed.
When he kissed you it was messy, like all the frustration had nowhere else to go. He smashed his lips into yours, holding your jaw firm, but not tight.
Your hands found his shirt, gripping tight and pulling him deeper into the kiss.
He made a quiet sound against your mouth, his other hand moving to your arm, rubbing up and down before adjusting his grip.
“Inside. Now.” He breathed, pulling you towards your trailer.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏
You unlocked the door without thinking and he pushed you inside, slamming the door behind you.
The air was hot in your quaint tin can, the beads hiding your bedroom jangling as he pushed you back through them, your back hitting the bed.
“You’re such a-” he cut himself off under his breath. His hand reaching for your jaw again, slower this time.
“You want this?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
He wanted permission, your permission.
His grip tightened, ever so slightly, “Say it.”
“I want you, Daryl.” You whispered, keeping your eyes on his.
That broke something in him.
“Fuck~ fuck you-“ he muttered, his hands running through his hair, his shirt riding up and showing that beautiful line of hair that trialed up his stomach. “You fuckin’ tease.” He repeated, moving his hands to the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up over his head. His body was covered in scars and tattoos, his chest hot and red with sweat. “You talk too much.” he muttered as his hand slid from your jaw to your neck, holding it a little harder than he needed to.
When he kissed you it was still hard and messy, but not careless. He paused between breaths like he was listening for you, waiting for you to say no.
You sat up and pulled your T-shirt off, revealing your chest to him and he swore under his breath.
“I’m gonna fuck you.” He stated, although it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself
“Do it then.” You whispered. Butterflies swarming in your stomach, your breathing deep and heavy, your eyes drinking in the image of him.
He crawled on top of you, raising your hands above your head and holding them with one hand as he spread kisses down your neck, your collarbone and stopped just above the cup of your bra.
He looked up at you, removing his hand from your wrist to pull down your bra, letting your breast bounce free. He groaned, his hips bucking against the edge of your bed as he leaned down to take your breast in his mouth.
You moaned at the contact, his warm tongue circling your nipple, as you writhed on the bed.
Your legs wrapped around him instinctually, pulling him into you and grinding. He whimpered, a cute little noise from such a big man.
“Fuck you~” he groaned, clearly trying to show he was still in charge, beyond the pathetic whimpers he had been making.
You moaned as he pressed a kiss to your mouth. Your hands going to his hair, pulling him further into the kiss, further onto the bed until he was on all fours on top of you.
“I’m gonna take what I want.” He whispered. His hands drifting down to your denim shorts and undoing the top button, pulling the zip down slowly.
“Take me~ please” you whined, knowing just how to rile him up. His eyes rolled back for a second before he crawled backwards, leaving your shorts on but unfastened.
He pulled his cock out of his boxers, rubbing it a few times as he stepped backwards through the curtain and into the kitchenette. You tilted your head as he did so, hopping off the bed and following him.
“Knees. Now.” He barked, still stroking his leaking cock.
His girth was bigger than you’d thought it’d be, his tip red and oozing creamy white. You got down on the floor, squeezing your thighs together.
You looked up at him as he stroked his cock. You shuddered at the thought of him taking you, glad it was finally happening after years of wanting.
He pointed his tip towards your mouth, letting your hands take over as he threaded his fingers through his hair. His cock was pulsing as you put your mouth on the tip, swirling your tongue over its leaking slit.
Daryl threw his head back, grunting as he gently pulled your hair.
You took more of his cock in, sliding it back and forth slowly, looking up at him as you hollowed your cheeks. You moaned into it as you sucked, the image of him moaning and grunting above you as he thrusted into your throat.
“Shit~” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut “you’re so good at that.”
You smiled, your lips still wrapped around his cock and thrust it deeper. His head fell back in bliss, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
“Fuck, you dirty slut~” he moaned out
You don’t look away, leaning into it, taking him fully - and that's what undoes him.
“Fuck-” he choked out, voice breaking. “I can’t-”
You pulled back slowly, letting his cock slip from your lips, your hand replacing your mouth as you looked up at him. You didn’t rush him, just waited. Watched.
“What?” you said, soft but steady. “Too much?”
He shook his head immediately, like he didn't even know what he was saying.
“I want-” He swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling, heart pounding against his rib cage, “I want you.”
A small smile tugged at your lips.
“You’ve got me, baby.” You cooed, standing up and shifting closer, just enough to close that space again. Your hand still wrapped around his ruined cock. Stroking, but slowly, in control.
“Just don't fall apart on me” You took your other hand and gently stroked his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes.
You laughed, softly. “Look at you. All talk, huh?”
His jaw tightened, but he didn't pull away - didn't argue. Surprisingly, he leaned into it.
You brushed your thumb over his tip
and his breath hitched involuntarily. There it was.
You tilted your head, studying him like a puzzle, figuring him out piece by piece.
“Thought you were gonna take what you wanted?” you added a quiet smirk on your face. “What happened baby?”
“Don’t-” he started, but it came out broken.
You didn't stop, but you didn't speed up either, just kept that same controlled pace, his wet cock oozing as it moved up and down in your hand, forcing him to feel every second of it.
“Use your words.” You said softly, one hand still stroking him softly.
That snapped something.
His hand came back to your hair, not controlled this time, desperate - fingers tightening like he needed something to hold onto.
“I said don’t-” he tried again but his voice broke halfway.
You leaned in slightly, close enough to hold him by the chin, forcing him to look in your eyes.
“Or what?”
Silence.
His breathing was all over the place now, chest rising fast. His eyes darker than before, overwhelmed.
“Dont-” his voice rough and uneven “Don’t start that.”
You didn't stop, didn't acknowledge what he was saying. Instead, you picked up the pace, milking his cock, squeezing it tighter, watching the way his expression shifted - how his jaw clenched, his eyes rolled.
“Start what, hun?” you asked, innocently.
He huffed out a breath, “Y’know what you’re doin’.”
A small smile tugged at your lips watching him all flustered.
“Yeah.” you said simply.
That answer hit harder than anything. Mixed with the pressure of your hand on his cock he had no choice but to tip his head back again, shoulders tense.
“Fuck~” He breathed “You’re-” He didnt finish. He didn't need to.
You shifted closer, enough to pull his focus back, forcing his eyes to stay on you and only you.
“Use your words baby.”
His expression twisted, he was growing frustrated.
“I said I want you, okay?” He snapped. It came out strained, almost pleading.
“I know.” you said, holding his gaze.
Your hand slowed again, just enough to make him notice. You wanted to drive him over the edge, tease him until he head to take you, punish you.
His grip on your hair yanked your head backwards as he pushed his head into your neck.
“You’re messin’ with me.” he whined, his eyes tinged with a sadness
“Yeah.” you replied again, knowing he was going to explode soon. And you didn't stop, your hand squeezed his tip causing him to whimper into your neck.
“Fuck~ you’re killin’ me, please”
“Thought you could handle it” you smiled, just a little more and you'd get what you wanted.
His jaw clenched, his teeth gritting together. “I can.” he shot back, the anger back in his tone.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
That did it. With one hand still in your hair, the other grabbed your wrist, squeezing until you let go of his aching cock.
“You want to be a cock tease. Fine.” He muttered, pushing you.
Your breath hitched as he spun you, his hand in your hair,pulling you so your back was pressed flush against his chest. His other hand, still on your wrist which was now twisted, slightly painfully, behind your back.
He pushed you back towards the bed. Pushing you face first down into it, your ass in the air.
Daryl kept one hand on your wrist, forcing you into the bed as he pulled your shorts down with the other hand.
“Think you’re funny huh?” he added, voice low. “I’ll show you just how funny you are.”
With that you felt his hand come down strong on your ass and you yelped. The skin stung, you could tell it was raised and red already.
“You like that? huh?” he demanded, bringing his hand down again, and again.
“Y-yes~” you moaned, sticking your ass up for him. He swore under his breath.
“Let’s feel that pussy baby.” He said, pushing his hand forcefully between your legs to your slick heat.
You gasped and he chuckled softly.
“Fuckin’ tease, riling yourself up.” he stuck a finger in with no mercy, his thick digit sliding into your wet heat. You cried out, writhing into the bed. But he held you still with your hand still twisted behind your back. “You like that?”
You nodded, letting out a little whimper to affirm.
“Uh uh slut, use your words.” He threw your words back at you.
“Yes- yes please.”
“Thought you had more in you than that, baby doll.” That nickname had you wetter than you’d like to admit.
“Daryl~” you whispered
“What, pretty girls don't beg?” His voice was deep, but you knew he needed this soon. He was breaking.
“Please~ please just~ fuck me baby.” You tried your hardest to sound good for him, softening your voice, turning your head to look at him with your sweetest eyes.
And it worked.
He wrapped his hand around his cock, pushing it up against your dripping lips and slipped it in. You moaned loudly, your eyes squeezing shut.
“Come on baby doll~” He teased, his hips fucking into you with a delicious ‘plap’ everytime they collided with your ass.
You fucked back into him as he forced you down in the bed, moving his hand from your wrist to your ass and fucking you relentlessly.
“Shit~ im not gonna last long.” He said, his hips plowing into you. “Need you so bad.”
“Don’t stop~” you moaned out, your eyes rolling back with every thrust.
“I won't. Don't worry.”
He kept the pace - plap plap plap plap - his finger digging into your ass and thighs causing little bruises as he held you in place.
“Fuck you’re so good, you feel so~” he grunted, lowering his head as he picked up the pace.
“Daryl~ I want it.” You moaned out, your body giving way to his weight as he pushed into you. He knew exactly what you meant.
“Don’t worry baby doll, I’m gonna fuck it into you.” He groaned again, swearing under his breath. “You want that?” His southern drawl nearly tipping you over the edge, your thighs covered in slick.
“Fill me~” You blurted out, surprising you both “Fuck i want it.”
With that he blew his load straight into you, loud and hard. You yelled out, your body collapsing under him as he let go, both your bodies shivering as you came.
The aftershocks were fantastic, and your thighs had never been so soaked in your life
His grip loosened first. Not all at once, but gradually, like he was remembering where he was.
He swore under his breath, almost inaudibly. He was spent.
You didn't say anything, just crawled up into the bed, beckoning him to follow.
The tension hadn't gone, it had just changed.
He curled up next to you, his hand hovering like he wasn't entirely sure what to do next.
For a second it just stayed there, then slowly, it settled.
And for now, neither of you had the upper hand.
Felt exhausted after writing this one i cant even lie.
incase anyone writes daryl smut and needs any ideas. idek these are just random thing i just thought of [smut with minimal plot possessivemeandomferal daryl x subyounger bratty reader| reader and daryl get into a fight | reader is sad/mad after and reader makes daryl jealous on purpose | darly trying to fight the man reader uses to make him a jealous |angst into angry “your mine” sex with spanking and choking with his arm or bicep around readers neck | daryl has crying kink breeding kink marking kink | making up in the end| daryl making reader go back out in public and basically show off all the marks he left on her making her walk around with his cum dripping from her maybe ]. the gif’s just help with the imagination of it i suppose
snowghoul
izzy806
vaporwave
gamechangershow
titsay
2087
