Serial Killer!Daryl Dixon X F!Reader Smut: Teeth And Pearl Earrings PT.2
Serial Killer!Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Teeth and Pearl earrings PT.2
Warnings: Serial killer Daryl, Daryl kills two men who tried to hurt you, rough smut, human hunting, hunting reader through woods, Daryl is mean cause killer (but soft after) soft dubcon but NO noncon
Summary: Part two to the killer!Daryl fic. Reader finds out about Daryl's favorite pastime, and he hunts her down after she runs off.
Notes: Sorry this took so long I didn't have my adhd meds and I couldn't focus on it for more than five minutes at a time. Again, I tried to keep him as in character as possible.
Daryl was surprised, and a little annoyed by the fact his obsession with you had only grown after that. He'd hoped that he'd just fuck you and get over it, get back to his usual self and only occasionally need to go out and hunt. But you only made it worse, he found himself needing to go out hunting multiple times a week.
No one was complaining about his frequent outings though, each time he'd always come back with fresh kills and that was more food in their stomachs. Carol did make a comment about the fact she was cooking deer for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but he just retorted with some playful insult, and she'd shoot him one right back.
Your presence had become scarce after that night, and over time Daryl seriously grew worried. Even though you were currently the object of his obsession, he still viewed you as someone important to him, despite the way you made him go insane.
What was once an occasional late-night dick jerking session became an every night type deal, sometimes twice a night. The way you had acted like nothing ever happened between the two of you made it so much worse.
He'd expected you to get attached after that, constantly trying to get him to follow you off into the woods again, but you were just your old self, sweet and friendly but reserved.
Daryl fucking hated that.
His frustration started making him sloppy, and desperate. He picked up his old habit of stalking you, always out of sight but always right behind you. He knew you were unaware, he'd taken every single precaution to avoid giving you even the slightest suspicion you were being watched.
There was one day he had followed you into the small town down the road. He'd stick one street over, behind buildings and in deep alleys, only keeping you in his sight long enough to see which turn you'd make.
It turned out his annoyance at your stupidity was warranted. You'd run into trouble, two men who'd been scavenging an old department store and saw you walking by. They'd followed you, just as he did, bewildered by your obliviousness, just as he was.
He knew they had the worst intentions. Rob you, kidnap, assault, or even all three, but thankfully he never had to find out. Because apparently, you were smarter than you looked, or just very fucking lucky, because you'd lost them between a group of small shops.
He watched as they tried to find you, stumped at you seeming to vanish in thin air, and he began hunting them instead.
They were more aware of their surroundings than you had been with Daryl. They could sense him, even though they hadn't seen or heard him, they knew he was there. They quickly switched from predator to prey as they felt his presence, constantly looking over their shoulders and making attempts at getting away through alleys.
He could practically taste their fear. Their whale eyes flashed around the street, looking at every shop window, every door, every trash can, and in their disoriented fear driven state they ran right into him.
Daryl moved quickly, his hands grabbing a fistful of greasy brown hair and slamming it against the brick wall next to him. As the man fell over the second whirled to face him, ending up falling right onto Daryl's knife, a shout bursting from his horrified mouth.
Drawing the blade from his stomach he drove it into his throat, muting any further screams. He then used his elbow to slide the man off his knife.
He watched as the man fell into shock, his hands grasping his throat in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Daryl simply watched, his eyes never leaving his face, soaking in the sensation of his hunger being satiated.
Once his legs finally gave out and he fell to his knees, Daryl turned his attention to the first man, who was slowly regaining consciousness.
He bent down into a squat and slapped the flat of his blade against the man's cheek, forcing him back to his senses.
The confusion in his narrowed eyes turned to wide unbridled anger. His lips pulled away from his teeth and he tried to sit upright, only to get a heavy boot to his chest, sending him smacking against the concrete.
He didn't say anything, which was unusual for Daryl. They'd usually start with threats, insults, rage as they denied accepting the weight of their situation. Then they'd start trying to bargain with him, offer him food, guns, weapons, sometimes cars. And when Daryl wouldn't give them any type of response, only unnerving eye contact, they'd start begging.
This man hadn’t said a damn word. He kept trying to get up, he'd scoot back away a few feet before Daryl's boot kicked him in the chest and sent him flailing down on his back again.
“What do you want?” He finally broke the silent struggle, submitting and remaining on the concrete.
Daryl looked down at the man with that same expressionless look on his face. After a few seconds of this he reached for the pack of cigarettes in his front shirt pocket, making the man beneath him dramatically flinch.
As he lit the cigarette the man sputtered, trying to speak but unable to find the words. Daryl shoved the pack back in his pocket and took a deep pull, watching as he gave another attempt at getting away.
This time he got a kick to the face.
The pain from that alone sent the man into fight or flight. After he scrambled to his feet Daryl decided he'd had enough, and after grabbing the back of his shirt he plunged the knife into his back, drew it out, and sunk it back in in a different spot.
Over and over he did this.
He left the man rolling on his back on the ground, his once gray tank top soon turning a dark red.
In the hopes of maybe holding his urges off for longer, Daryl gave a few more stabs to the chest before swiping his knife clean on the dying man's jeans. He slipped it back in his belt and wiped his face with the back of his hand, only making the blood smear worse.
Daryl left the men there and made his way back to Alexandria, taking a deep and satisfying pull from his cigarette before the sight of your red sweater caught his eye.
He stopped in his tracks when his brain processed the image of you, his hand holding his cigarette a few inches from his lips. He felt like someone just pointed a remote at him and pressed pause, the only movement being the smoke curling up and away from his face.
You looked about the same.
You had a look of shock on your face, but not the type you'd expect someone to have after witnessing a murder like that. You'd seen your fair share of people being killed, you'd had to do it yourself a few times before, but that was always a kill or be killed scenario.
Those two men weren't trying to kill Daryl.
You'd caught sight of them in the reflection of a store window and knew they were sneaking up on you, so you'd darted behind an old coffee shop and climbed up the ladder. Once you were sure you'd lost them you climbed down, walked past two shops and around a corner just in time to see Daryl repeatedly kicking the man to the ground, behaving like more of a leopard playing with mice.
You'd watched the entire thing stretch on for what felt like hours, your eyes following every plunge of the knife, stabbing everywhere but the one place that would instantly dispatch that man.
Neither of you moved for a few moments. You only finally reacted when a chunk of ash fell from Daryl's cigarettes, watching it as it floated to the ground, looking back up to his face when it landed with a puff on the sidewalk.
“What was that?”
The innocent tone of your voice felt like he was the one who got stabbed in the chest.
Daryl always had a perfect way of killing. He'd play his role as some dumbass redneck who looked super easy to take advantage of, and they fell for it every time. They'd try to rob him or attack him and only then did he react, grappling them with movements he'd perfected to the point of it being an art. He'd always made sure that if there was the slightest chance of Rick, Carol, or anyone in his group somehow seeing, it could be read as necessary self defense.
But there was no way to explain away what he'd just done right out in the open, in broad daylight. Part of him wished it was Rick who'd seen him, not you,
Rick was no stranger to the deep satisfaction killing bad people brought. But you? He remembered once back at the prison you'd been torn up for days after having to kill someone who'd been attacking you. And that was a quick bullet to the head to a man who wanted you dead.
Finally, he took the cigarette back to his lips and took a pull before speaking. “They were gonna do worse to you.”
You knew he wasn't lying. But by the look on your face you didn't accept that, that wasn't the real reason why.
You inhaled deeply through your nose and looked off into the distance somewhere, Daryl could see the wheels turning behind your furrowed brow. He tried to remember all the excuses he used to think of when he was in the shower, running down every worst case scenario.
“How many times have you done that?” Your unspecified question had him unsure of how to respond. You blinked in frustration before elaborating. “Killed someone you didn't need to like that. All emotionless.”
“Lost count.” The boldness of his answer made you scoff. He stepped forward till he was inches away, maintaining steadily intense eye contact. “You gonna do somethin’ bout it?”
You weren't expecting him to challenge you so blatantly like that. Your jaw dropped as if you were about to speak, go off on him or lose your shit, but suddenly, it just didn't matter anymore. Maybe it was your brain trying to gaslight you into just moving away from the tense situation, but you closed your mouth and nodded once before turning on your heel.
Daryl prepared himself for some speech about morals in the apocalypse but you spoke before he had the chance.
“We should get back, Carol's making soup for dinner.”
That night you had successfully rationalized what you'd seen Daryl doing(gaslit yourself). Those men were evil, if they had the upper hand or maybe more numbers they would've done worse than what Daryl did. Even though it wasn't a quick death, it was nothing compared to what they would've done to you.
In the back of your mind though, you knew that wasn't the main reason for what he did to them. He'd shifted into a completely different being then, it wasn't human, or animal. He had become almost soulless, his actions so mechanical it looked like a set of commands he'd been wired to do. The way every single move was so calculated, the way he knew what they'd do before they did it, down to the way he cleaned the blood from his knife on their clothes.
Your blood ran cold when you remembered that first night in the woods with Abraham and the others. The way you felt his presence behind you even though you never heard or saw him. That must have been what those men felt, the primal instinct that they were being watched.
You felt stupid for thinking he was following you that night because he had a thing for you. You really didn't want to believe he was capable of hurting you, but that was hard when you could vividly remember how tight he squeezed your neck and the way he looked into your eyes when he did it.
If you didn't have a good reason to avoid him before, you sure as hell did now.
But you really didn't want to.
Every night you'd think about it again, the specific details becoming blurry as you imagined him doing it differently. Your heart would speed up when you'd imagine yourself in their place, walking through the woods and becoming aware that you were being watched, your fear only growing worse when you'd look around and wouldn't see anyone, but the feeling of him drawing closer persisting nonetheless-
Your stomach dropped when you realized your body had reacted differently to the idea of that then you had normally. Your heart rate was fast, like usual, but instead of anxiety spreading in your chest you felt a deep flipping sensation in your core.
It had been a few days since you saw him. You knew he was always there, inciting a deep and unsettling paranoia in you.
Rick invited the inner group over for dinner and drinks.
You smiled as he handed you a glass of red wine, that same sly smirk he always had for you on his face. You were standing against the wall of his living room while the later arrivals finished their meal in the dining room.
“You've been quiet.” Rick's voice had once been enough to soothe any anxiety that you might've had. But now it did little, akin to the background humming of indifferent frogs and crickets.
His voice called your name and you forced yourself to look up to his face, nearly crying at the sight. You wished you could tell him everything, weep into his arms and have him shush away your worries, explain it all away and go back to the way things were.
His expression grew serious then. “You okay?”
“Have you ever…” You glanced around to make sure there were no eyes on you. Everyone was minding their own business, chattering happily as they enjoyed Rick's spaghetti and wine.
“Killed someone you didn't have to kill?” Your quiet voice had his posture stiffening. He shifted his feet as he nodded, mulling over your words before he spoke.
“We've all done things we're ashamed of. If it's in the past, let it rot there. Nothin' you can do to change it.”
“Have you?”
It took him a while to answer. He inhaled deeply through his nose before leaning in closer to you, his tone darker. “Why are you asking me?”
“Someone here did that. Two men. They were bad men, but… they were trying to run away.”
“Then they did the right thing. Those men could've easily come back with more people.”
You sighed, shifting closer to him. By now you were only inches away from each other, and you could smell the cologne he'd put on before dinner. “He looked like he liked doing it. It wasn't… quick.”
Rick eyed you for a few silent moments.
“Daryl.” It wasn't a question, he already knew the answer. You looked up to him, your eyes wide and worried now, but he settled you with a firm glare.
“Sometimes a man does things that you don't need to worry about.” He spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “All you need to know is he protects you, and keeps your belly full. Alright?”
You didn't know how to feel about learning that Rick knew. He didn't know the full extent, no one did, no one knew about the trophies and the hunting, or the meticulous planning that went into Daryl's killing.
“Alright.” For some reason, it sets you at ease. If your leader said it was fine, then it had to be fine with you.
Rick's expression softened and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder to give you a comforting squeeze. You melted into his touch and closed your eyes, trying your best to ignore the burning on the side of your face from the hunter in the corner of the room.
The air was unusually cold.
You tried to steady your breathing as you walked through the familiar forest outside Alexandria.
You couldn't feel him yet, but in your bones you could sense it, almost like he had a tracking tag on him that would make your heart race faster and faster as he drew closer.
If you concentrated hard enough you could imagine him in real time, right about now he'd just be getting into the woods, picking up your tail-
The bolt of anxiety that went through your chest at the image had you picking up your pace, walking faster down the familiar path that eventually led to a river.
It wasn't long before you felt it. You looked over your shoulder at the scene behind you. The forest floor, covered in dead leaves, the thin trees with gray bark that were randomly spaced out, and nothing else. Your eyes burned as you tried to see as far off into the distance as possible. Nothing. You couldn't even hear the normal wildlife, no birds, crickets, cicadas.
You turned back around and pulled the sleeves of your black turtleneck down over your cold wrists.
The feeling grew stronger as you walked on. The sun was setting, the normal bright yellow light fading into a gentler orange.
It started with the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You'd turn around and see the same nothingness as before, only this time not being able to see as far due to the setting sun.
The overwhelming urge to run overcame you and you looked over your shoulder again, your stomach falling ten stories when you saw nothing. That was worse than seeing him lurking behind. At least if you could see him, you'd know where he was. He could be anywhere. Your breath trembled and you resisted the screaming in your body to run, but the sound of a stick cracking had you breaking into a jog.
He was close now, you could feel it. You didn't turn around anymore, you couldn't, if you once again were met with nothing you'd start losing your sanity.
Soon it would be too dark to see. The idea of trying to hide from him in the pitch black forest had you running, and you didn't stop until it was too dark for you to do so without tripping.
You caught your breath behind a large oak and waited. The silence was starting to get to you. Where the hell were all the birds? The cicadas that are always screaming this time of year?
Where the hell were the walkers?
It was dark now. You looked ahead of you and felt like you'd fallen into a deep freezing cold lake, your vision had dramatically decreased to around five yards in front of you. It was getting dark so fast, the silence only seemed to be growing louder, you began to doubt yourself, you were way in over your head, what were you thinking? You were the only person alive who saw Daryl Dixon stab a man to death, a man that was actively trying to escape, just because of what he might have done, and YOU thought it was a good idea to play hide and seek in the woods with him?
You waited too long. By the time you heard the distinct sound of featherlight footsteps it was too dark, you couldn't see anything. When you looked up you couldn't even see the moon or any stars, were the trees too thick? You didn't see any clouds that day, your head spun and you tripped over your feet the second you tried to step forward.
Adrenaline surged through your body at the animalistic fear of being vulnerable around an unseen danger. You scrambled to your feet and froze, your eyes as wide as they could be in hopes of being able to see better.
To your left you could barely see the backdrop of the dark blue sky behind the trees. You turned in a circle, and tried to look back to the sky, but in your turning you'd completely disoriented yourself. The way you'd come was just as lost as what was once your left.
You felt a coldness run deep in your bones when you realized you had no idea which way Daryl was.
If this was some innocent game of hide and seek you'd complain about the unfair advantage he had over you, most of his life he'd spent out in woods just like these.
In a last ditch effort of self preservation you remained still, kept your eyes open and unblinking, and listened.
Nothing. You couldn't hear a single fucking thing. If not for the sound of your own breathing you'd wonder if you'd gone deaf without even realizing it. You raised your hand in front of your face and blinked hard a few times, trying to will your eyes to become as good as Daryl's.
Time ticked by no matter what you did. Without anything for you to hear or see it became harder to keep your balance, and your arms slowly lifted from your side to steady yourself.
Your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft. You felt a brief tingle of confusion before all at once your heart leapt into your throat and your stomach dropped to your feet when you came to the horrifying realization of what you just touched.
Fingers.
You snatched your hand away like you'd been stung, and with how fast you did it, you spun and fell to your knees. Your body couldn't react quick enough, you could hear leaves from what sounded like every direction, and you froze.
Was that even Daryl?
You hadn't even seen him for sure, you had no proof whatsoever, not even a hint to go by, those could be walkers. For all you knew, Daryl could be back in Alexandria skinning a deer for dinner, clueless to your absence.
You felt a different kind of fear as your mind dug yourself deeper and deeper. All you had on you was a comically small machete and a pathetic little flashlight. You'd imagined this going very differently, which was your own damn fault. You should've learned by now you couldn't predict anything about Daryl. He'd shown you that time and time again.
You were too busy thinking about how stupid you were to notice the silence was back. But once you did, you forced yourself to your feet, and pushed on. Your arms reached out blindly in front of you as you took baby steps, trying not to gasp each time your fingertips grazed a tree.
It took everything in you not to scream when you felt it again. A hand, but instead of reaching out to meet your outstretched hand, it ghosted up the small of your back. You whirled around and reached out, desperately trying to grab a sleeve, a finger, anything to pull yourself to, like the ladder in a swimming pool.
Being met with empty black air almost brought you to tears. You lurched forward, trying to predict his position, but just as silently as he arrived he had sunk out of reach.
You were ready to beg. You were wrong, you didn't want this, you were so fucking scared.
Just as you began to work up the courage to speak, your feet flew out from under you as you were shoved in the chest, hard. A dull pain shot through your ass and you kicked your feet in the dirt in front of you, pushing yourself away from his direction. But he was five steps ahead, his fingers grazing the top of your scalp.
You yelped, spinning around to get up on your knees, not even managing to get one foot on the ground before you were shoved back in the dirt again.
Something about that final push set you into fight or flight, so you got to your feet and ran.
Daryl was right about your ridiculous luck. You made it pretty far before you ran into a tree, smacking into it with the edge of your shoulder so hard it spun you around again. Once again you had no idea which direction he was in so you got up, and tried again.
Apparently he'd grown tired of toying with you. You'd managed to run about twelve feet when your only information of his location was the sound of heavy footsteps running after you.
The realization he was fucking chasing you, full on running, terrified you so badly you found yourself unable to form thoughts anymore, your brain turned off as your body did everything possible to survive.
You managed to surprise him. Instead of continuing straight you veered to the left, which would have been a very impressive feat had you not run into another tree. This one was huge, and thankfully you had slowed down enough that you didn't hurt yourself running into it, but it did scare the fuck out of you.
You used your hands on the trunk to guide you, shimmying around the edge until you were pressed on the other side, your back flush against it. You held your breath and waited, not daring to make a single sound.
That feeling happened again. He was looking at you, but you didn't know where. Your eyes were utterly useless but you still looked frantically in every direction, only being met with utter blackness.
There was nothing you could do. A small part of you felt relieved, at least you didn't have to try so hard anymore. Slowly, you let out your lungful of air, trying to be quiet. But it wasn't getting out fast enough and your lips opened against your will, causing you to shudder out a terrified breath.
He had been two feet in front of you for a while now. His eyes, although not superhuman, had over time adjusted enough to find his way through dark woods like these. He could see the outline of nearby trees, and the figure of your body pressed up against one.
The silence had quickly become something the two of you were extremely used to. So when there was a sudden shift in the air followed by wind shifting the leaves of trees above you, it startled you both.
The sound of leaves moving right in front of you sets you off again. You prepare to make a break to the left, but unbeknownst to you, Daryl could see the way you angled your body, your right leg braced behind you.
He smirked and threw out his foot right as you bolted forward. Your legs flew out from under you and you landed hard on your stomach, the air being knocked from your lungs.
Daryl watched as you tried unsuccessfully to breathe again, your lungs spasming before finally snapping back to normal. You greedily gulped in air and weakly attempted to roll over on your side.
He crouched next to you and reached out, using the back of his knuckle to brush hair from your forehead. You jerked violently, your hands flying up to try and fight him away. That made him chuckle, and you felt a whole new rage of emotions after having his identity confirmed.
It really was Daryl. If that was a good thing or a bad thing you weren't sure of yet, but at least you knew for sure it was him.
“What'd you think was gonna happen, huh?” He muttered, his hand grabbing your wrist and yanking it from your face. “Go off in the woods alone again, start runnin’ in the dark, ain't nobody tell you runnin’ just makes things wanna chase you?”
The more he spoke the more aggressive he became, his other hand latching onto your other wrist to hold you firmly in place. It didn't stop you from struggling, which only made his prey drive even more active.
“What are you gonna do?” Your voice and the way it trembled made his upper lip twitch. He stared down at your face, another sick grin forming when he saw you grow more and more terrified the longer the silence stretched on.
“Daryl, please.”
The grin fell from his face then, something about the way you sounded like you were about to cry setting his teeth on edge. He let go of your wrists and ran the back of his knuckles down the side of your face, his touch tender. He saw you relax a little at that and he leaned down, brushing his lips so lightly against yours you could've mistaken it for the wind.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." You breathed and nodded softly; the fear of dying being replaced by a delicious different kind of terror. This could easily become an addiction.
His gentle actions slowly hardened as his fingertips trailed down from your cheek to your jaw, the pressure increasing until he reached your throat, where his hand slipped into that perfect fit around your neck.
“I think you need a little wakeup call princess, you don't get to tease me like this and change your mind cause you get scared.” He said the last word like an insult, as if it was a ridiculous fuck up on your end.
“Shit don't work like that anymore.” His tone took this edge of meanness, something that made your lower stomach flip.
Your chest fluttered with your shaky breathing, and you nodded, filling him with a deep satisfaction. He squeezed his hand around your neck with no warning, no slow increase in pressure, just an immediate white knuckled squeeze.
Right as you saw little flashes of white at the edges of your vision he relaxed his hand, but he kept it there like some kind of warning.
He released his hand and replaced it with something cold, your mouth dried instantly when you realized it was his knife.
“Get up.”
You slowly stood with him, making sure to let him guide where your head went, not wanting to risk getting nicked.
Then it was like he disappeared.
You waited a few moments, your eyes flickering around the different shades of black.
A bright orange glow had your pupils dilating painfully. After being in pitch black darkness for so long the small flame from his lighter felt like staring into the sun.
He looked terrifying then. His cigarette between his lips and his cheeks dipped in as he pulled in to help the tobacco light. His eyes flicked up to you for less than a second before he snapped the lighter closed and you were left with an orange dot where his face once was.
You stood in the same spot, not daring to breathe, your eyes locked on the orange dot as it moved from his lips to down at his side. You weren't sure what he was expecting of you, so you remained standing as long as he felt like torturing you.
A minute later the orange orb vanished with a hiss as he put it out on his boot. You heard the light tap of it falling in the dirt, where he proceeded to grind it with his shoe. You deeply missed that orange dot, it gave you something to focus on in the black void.
His hands were rough as he grabbed your shoulders and turned you around. You gasped at the sudden roughness, your heart jumping after standing in silent nothingness for so long. The knife was back on your throat, his other hand slipping up under your turtleneck.
“What you saw the other day,” His breath was hot against the shell of your ear as his hand groped and squeezed your sides, growing more firm as he slid it up to your breasts. “Can't have anyone knowin’ ‘bout it.”
Your first instinct was to nod, but the blade against the side of your throat made you think twice. “Mhm. I know.” You hummed out your anxious promise, your hands clinging onto his forearm for dear life.
“I don't think you do.” His voice was calm and steady, the opposite of the angry way he pinched your nipple. Your whine caught in your throat and you clenched your teeth, baring them in a pained grimace, much like a submissive animal.
“You're a stupid bitch,” Those words held so much fiery emotion despite how cool and collected he sounded. You swallowed a whimper as he went on, “but you ain't dumb enough to go and open your mouth.”
He didn't appreciate your lack of response, you'd been frozen from the way his hand had dipped under the waistband of your jeans, fingers barely grazing your panties.
“Makin’ me think I might be wrong.” He growled and pressed the knife firmer against your neck, and you immediately snapped out of it.
“You're not. I won't, I promise.” Your ass moved against the hard dick beneath his jeans, making him hiss out a curse.
In this game the two of you played, he had a level of excitement and vigor that was previously unknown to him. He rested his forehead on the back of your head and inhaled deeply, holding the flowery scent of your shampoo in his lungs like it’d get him high.
He loved the way you played this role so perfectly. Growing up watching slasher movies through puberty wasn't the sole reason for his degeneracy, but it played a large role. Drifting around selling drugs with Merle to unsavory people added to it too.
Daryl finally dipped his fingers under your panties, taking his sweet time rubbing circles in the skin all the way down to your slit. When he felt how wet you were he sucked in a gasp before he could stop himself. You'd been working that up for a while. By the way your panties were soaked, he'd guess you got all worked up the second you slipped out of Alexandria.
Your grip on his forearm tightened as he stroked your clit, swirling his finger around a few times before dipping down through your folds.
Without meaning to you held your breath in anticipation, begging to any higher power to have him go easy on you. You couldn't take another night like before, especially not in the middle of the woods. You strongly believed that when he finished with you and saw the state you were in, he'd just leave you to find your own way back when you stopped being a pathetic mess.
Your prayers were answered and he angled his hand in a way that allowed him to push his middle finger inside you, your walls greedily squeezing around him. Now that you were pretty sure he wouldn't actually kill you, you allowed yourself to enjoy every drop of pleasure he'd give you.
You moaned shamelessly when he shocked you by not just driving it in and out, but he fucking curled his finger.
“You bring any walkers over here and I'll leave your ass in the dark.” His tone held a venomous bite, but you were fairly certain he wouldn't actually do that. You weren't taking any chances though so you pressed your lips tightly together and tried to steady your breathing through your nose.
His head bumped gently against yours as he moved his attention to the top of your ear, his lips warm against the cold skin there. You nearly crumpled in his arms at the feeling, and when his tongue traced the tip of your ear you physically shuddered against his chest. He trailed a few kisses from your ear to the back of your neck, giving into his impulsives and sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder.
It took every ounce of concentration to remain quiet. He couldn't tease you like this, do every little trick in the foreplay handbook, and expect you to keep quiet?
His finger curled again the second time, sending a jolt through your core and down your legs. When he felt your nails dig into his forearm he nudged your head again with his, tilting you so he could press his cheek against yours.
If not for his hand down the front of your jeans and the knife he had on your neck, you would've passed for a sappy couple posing for pictures.
Just as you'd relaxed against his chest, your head tilting back to rest against his collarbone, he started curling his finger at a consistent pace. You whined deep in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut against the frustration of pleasure, but not enough.
His hand pulled out from your jeans so suddenly you actually made a genuine whiney noise, already frustrated and impatient. The knife returned to its former deep pressure, immediately setting you straight.
He popped open the buttons on your pants and pulled down one side, bending his knees to pull them down over your ass, making you awkwardly twist and bend with him.
Your body reacted subliminally to the sound of his buckle clinking as he unbuckled his belt, your back arching to press yourself closer against him. His breathing had ever so slightly gotten heavier while he worked to take his dick out, his mouth sending hot puffs of air against your ear. Your pussy throbbed at the feeling, and even more so when you felt his swollen tip bob between your legs after he freed it from his pants.
You were lucky Daryl wasn't in the mood to take longer than necessary to fuck you. It was a bit selfish on his part, he no longer cared about your pleasure, instead choosing to solely make himself cum with your pussy. Made no difference to him if you came or not. The wind carried the faint smell of rain and he could hear the beginning rumble of thunder in the distance.
He spit on his fingertips and slathered it over his tip, tugging on his dick a few times before guiding himself to your hole. Just as greedy as before, he pushed inside you, slapping his hand over your mouth to muffle your whines of discomfort.
Daryl's downstairs department was nothing to make light of, he was blessed with a heavy dick that was the perfect length to fill you completely so not a single millimeter of space was untouched.
But Christ, the girth, he didn't have the type of dick he could just slide in you without giving you a stretch that burned. Unfortunately for you, he didn't really care that much, it went away after a minute and didn't feel like a big deal to him.
You groaned into his palm, your eyes rolling back into your head when he immediately set a rough pace. The angle he fucked you in, standing upright with your ass stuck out for him, it had his tip slamming into that perfect spot every single thrust.
The knife suddenly fell from his fingers, landing on your boot with a thump, but before you could react his hand quickly replaced it. His left arm wrapped around your waist, using it to keep your hips angled in towards him. With his right hand he squeezed your neck, gradually increasing pressure until he felt your hands on his arm start to loosen their grip.
He released the pressure, the oxygen and blood returning to your brain to give you an amazing head rush. He waited until he felt your nails dig back into his skin before squeezing again, repeatedly bringing you to the brink of unconsciousness before letting you come crashing back down to earth.
With the arm he had around your waist he moved his fingers over your lower stomach, feeling around for a moment before pressing the flat of his hand down right where he felt his dick.
You sucked in a sharp gasp at the feeling, wondering where the hell he learned that, you knew he hadn't fucked anyone ever since you'd known him. And with the way he was when you first met him in Atlanta, you seriously doubt he was experienced enough to know how to do something like that.
Daryl was a lot more simple than you were trying to figure out, he just liked the way he could feel his dick moving if he pressed down hard enough and fucked you deep enough. The fact it felt amazing was just a lucky side effect for you.
The next time he started choking you he squeezed a little tighter, the feeling of your throat shifting under his palm had him growling curses into the crook of your neck. Your back arched harder, your body desperate to feel him deeper. Him fucking you fast and hard, coupled with the way his grip on your neck kept cutting off blood to your head, suddenly became way too much and you came around his dick, your walls squeezing and holding onto his length with all its might.
Daryl felt his eyes roll back in his head and his dick twitch at the feeling. “That's it girl.” He muttered out encouragement, knowing he needed you to hold out a few more minutes. If you got all whiney and weak like last time he'd have to stuff his shirt in your mouth. He was already lucky enough that somehow there were no walkers nearby, he couldn't take the chance to try and push his luck.
His encouragement worked, your body melting against him as you soaked in the rare praise.
“Yeah, that's it. Atta girl.” His voice was so low and deep you could feel it vibrate in his chest against the top of your back, sending little sparks of pleasure through your core.
He picked up the pace, his hand falling from your neck to grab both sides of your hips. Carefully, and slowly, he guided you down to your knees, keeping his dick inside you as you both knelt in the dirt. He put his hands on your upper back and pushed, forcing your arms out from under you so the side of your face was on the ground.
The feeling of his large rough hands pushing your back down had your stomach tightening again, and it only got worse when he shifted your ass higher up against his pelvis. He was back to his earlier pace in no time, thrusting hard and fast, one hand still pushing down on your back while the other did the same to the side of your head.
It got harder to keep quiet the longer he went on. When he suddenly grabbed your ass and held it tight against him, forcing his dick in deeper, you came unexpectedly, breathing so hard it sent the dirt next to your face poofing away. You clenched down on him again, your back arching obscenely, and rode the dizzy waves of your orgasm, quickly forcing him to have one of his own.
Daryl spit out a growl and slammed into you a few last times before he came, his grip on your hips keeping you immobile as he emptied himself inside you. Even after you twitched from the last bit of your orgasm and started moving to get up, he grabbed hold of your hair and smashed your head back down. Maybe it was a power move, because he held you down like that for a while, his dick buried so deep inside you his cum wasn't able to trickle out yet.
You waited what felt like five minutes before you spoke up, your voice hoarse from all the heavy mouth breathing. “Daryl?”
He barely let you finish the L in his name before he cut you off. “Shut the hell up.” He muttered, his heavy hand still pressed against your face and the other holding your hips tightly against his.
He would've been content to stay like that for a while, just to torture you some more, maybe keep you there under him until his dick got hard again. But the rumble of thunder was getting closer, and he didn't feel like getting caught out in a storm.
When he finally released his grip on your hair and waist you sighed in relief, lifting your face from the ground to brush the dirt from your cheek. He pulled his softened dick from you and groaned when he felt the cool air on his sensitive skin.
You were dreading getting up and the walk home when you heard the familiar hissing and groaning of a nearby walker. You pulled up your pants as slowly and quietly as humanly possible, your eyes still trying with all their might to see in the dark forest.
Daryl clicked on a flashlight for a split second, just long enough to catch the location of the walker.
In a bright white flash you saw three of them about ten yards out. Your moaning must've attracted them, and your stomach twisted when you remembered Daryl threatening to leave you there if you drew any walkers over.
A large warm hand slipped into yours and he helped you to your feet. It was so kind that you were almost more concerned with the action than the fact you were in pitch black darkness with three walkers heading your way.
He slung his crossbow over from his back and clicked the flashlight on again, only for a split second. They weren't much closer. He took them out, clicked the light again, and saw a handful more far, far back. You could definitely outwalk them. You sighed in relief and wiped the dirt from your palms and face.
“Can you walk?” He whispered as he slung his weapon back over his shoulder, slipping his flashlight in his front jean pocket.
“Yeah, I'm fine.” You whispered in return and took his hand again, trying not to let silly childish emotions start clouding your mind. You weren't some teen girl with her first real boyfriend, you were a woman holding the hand of a cold man who killed for pleasure, a man that just hunted you through the woods like you were some fox or cougar. And he was freakishly good at it.
He led you back to Alexandria in a way that harshly contrasted his normal exterior. His hand was gentle but firm and he didn't rush you, not once. Even when you snuck back through the back wall he stayed with you, albeit letting go of your hand. He took you to your house, made sure you got in safe, and did something at the door that had your heart pounding even more than when he chased you.
Daryl looked at you for a moment, uncertainty clear on his face. You could tell he was thinking of hundreds of different things at once, and it kind of looked like he was nervous.
He leaned in and placed his open hand at the base of your neck. Not squeezing, not grabbing or clenching, he just barely cupped your skin, his thumb tracing against the red and purple marks from his hands and teeth. You'd covered the last ones up with makeup, you could do the same with these.
You opened your mouth to reassure him of this but he leaned in, and kissed your forehead.
Then he pressed his forehead against yours. Your heart was racing painfully at this point. You watched as he looked into your eyes for a second before he closed them. You followed suit and closed your eyes, savoring the intense affection. It was so strange to you. You couldn't remember the last man or woman you'd been like this with. And the fact it was Daryl Dixon pressing his forehead against yours, right in the doorframe of your front door…
You decided then you didn't give a shit what he did for fun. You didn't give a shit if he felt the same way either. Maybe you could delude yourself into thinking that one day. You decided right then you'd walk through hell and back to get just a taste of this feeling again.
The feeling of his hand unfolding yours had you opening your weary eyes. You looked down and blinked, seeing a small white dot in the palm of your hand. He drew away from you then, muttering a quick ‘found this earlier’ before fading down the stairs and up the street to his house.
You rubbed your finger over your pearl earring and smiled.
@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial
More Posts from Heathermason6060 and Others
HEATHERMASON6060!!!!!!! YOUR AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED FIC WAS FREAK NASTAY IN THE BEST WAY WOWOWOWOWOWOWOW 😵💫👏👏
FUCK YEAH!!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!! I LOVE FREAK NASTAY
I love Pinterest because one second you'll be looking at the best pictures of Daryl that exist on the Internet like these
And then literally 2 clicks later it's full of images made in 2012 by the horniest middle aged women
LIKE WHAT IS THIS PLEASE where are the people making these I need to talk to them 13 years later
HELLO????? WHAT???????????????
THINKING ABOUT BEST FRIEND!LEON.
best friend!leon who’s been your best friend for as long as you could remember. he’s been at every birthday party and almost every family cookout.
best friend!leon who your mom secretly hopes you end up marrying.
best friend!leon who’s always been a bit of a goody two shoes. perfectly grades, clean record. every time you’d tease him about him about it he’d crossed his arms and frown.
best friend!leon who your grandma and aunties are very much fond of.
best friend!leon who always shares his things with you—his airpods, fries, hoodies—you name it.
best friend!leon who your father approves of.
best friend!leon who has a dislike for trouble and shenanigans, always seems to be pulled into your little mischievous ‘adventures’.
best friend!leon who seems to be…caught up in one of those ‘adventures’ as of right now.
“if you’re gonna move, move.” his voice is slightly muffled because his hands are on his face, hiding the fact that his eyes are damn near rolling into the back of his skull.
“what was that? i can’t hear you, lee.”
you hum happily as you lean forward and move them away from his face, revealing those gorgeous baby blues of his. his lips are slightly red and puffy from the intense makeout session you both had earlier prior to…this.
you look at him, flashing the sweetest most innocent smile as if you aren’t straddling his lap, all of his inches currently buried deep in you—taking a mental note of how flustered he is, purposely avoiding eye contact, skin semi clammy, chest heaving up and down…the poor boy is a wreck.
and you’re enjoying every second of it.
“i said,” he speaks slowly, voice a little raspy. “if you’re gonna move, move. you’re killing me here, sweetheart.”
sweetheart. he’s been calling you that for the longest of time-but every time he does, butterflies attack your stomach. it just…does something to you.
his eyes are back on you now, practically begging and pleading you to do something-anything.
you tilt your head and give him a fake confused look causing him to let out an annoyed scoff.
“seriously, just move already! what’s the whole point in even doing this, this is literally a torture tactic-why are you even doing this to me? it’s not fair and y—ahhhh—fuck!”
“you talk too much.” you roll your eyes as roll your hips, yours rocking into his as you perform a slow and steady circular motion and rhythm. your gaze falls upon leon, who’s eyes are squeezed shut as he hungrily grips the fat of your hips as you move. you place a teasing kiss on his cheek, getting a whiff of his cologne as you do; something icy and cool, mixed with the scent of his laundry detergent. a crisp clean smell that silently drove you crazy.
“keep going, please d-don’t stop! so good, sweetheart. sooo good.” whiny babbles and fucked out praises leave his wet lips as you continue to move against him but you can’t help but to suddenly get a little…sadistic idea.
your hips come to sudden halt earning an agitated groan from the boy in front of you. his eyes fly open, dark brows knitting together in annoyance. “you stopped. again. why?”
“seems like you were having a little too much fun,” you offer a simple shrug. “wanted to tease you a little more before i get you there.”
leon’s jaw clenches and you laugh—but it’s cut short when you suddenly feel his warm strong hand grab ahold of your waist and starts bouncing you up and down him.
“ah—leon!”
“you teased me enough,” he grunts keeping his eyes on you as you hold on to his shoulders, squeals and whines escaping your lips. “now it’s my fucking turn, sweetheart.”
Daryl Dixon x Reader
warnings: smutttttt
notes: daryl has 0 game, 0 experience, and is eager to please. I thought about this as I was falling asleep last night and couldn't wait to write it for you. Inspired by Norman saying if Daryl ever got down and dirty there would be premature ejaculation
She/her pronouns, foreplay only, gets straight to it
The invitation had been innocent enough, though Daryl had found a way to make it a minefield in his head. Dinner at her house. Nothing fancy, she’d said. Just them, some canned spaghetti, and maybe a drink.
He’d almost said no, but the way she’d looked at him—smiling soft and easy, like she wanted him there more than anyone else—made him mutter, “Yeah, alright.”
Now, he’s sitting on her couch, shoulders stiff, his crossbow propped awkwardly by the door. She hums in the kitchen, clinking dishes together. He wonders if it’s too late to leave.
“Don’t sit too quiet in there,” she calls, teasing. “You’ll scare the furniture.”
Daryl huffs a laugh through his nose. “Furniture don’t need me to make it nervous.”
She steps into the room, carrying two mismatched bowls. “You kidding? You’re terrifying. Real menace, Dixon.” She hands him a bowl, sitting close enough for her thigh to press against his.
Daryl shifts, his grip tightening on the bowl. “S’not what people usually say.”
She gives him a sidelong glance, lips quirking. “What do they say?”
He doesn’t answer, staring into the spaghetti like it’s gonna save him. She leans in, the bare skin of her arm brushing his, and he forgets how to breathe.
“You’re not used to this, huh?” Her tone is light, but her eyes are searching.
He shrugs. “Dunno what ‘this’ is.”
“Someone flirting with you,” she says, blunt as ever, setting her bowl aside. “How’s that feel, by the way?”
He almost chokes. “Ain’t what you’re doin’.”
“It’s exactly what I’m doing.”
His ears burn, and he fights the urge to stand up and bolt. “Y/N—”
She cuts him off, leaning closer, her voice dropping to something softer. “If I haven't made it abundantly clear lately: I like you. A lot.”
The words hit him harder than any walker ever could. He swallows, glancing at her, then quickly away. “Ain’t right.”
“Why not?”
“I’m… too old.” He shifts again, looking anywhere but her face. “You could do better.”
Her laugh is quiet, almost disbelieving. “You really think that?”
He nods, his jaw tightening. “Don’t got think ‘bout it. It’s true.”
She tilts her head, watching him for a long moment. Then, setting her hand lightly on his knee, she asks, “When’s the last time someone told you you’re wrong?”
He tenses under her touch but doesn’t pull away. “Not wrong—”
“Daryl,” she interrupts gently. “You’ve got this whole big, twisted idea in your head about what you deserve. And it’s bullshit.”
He stiffens. “Ain’t—”
“Bullshit,” she says again, firmer this time. “And I’m gonna prove it.”
She stands, setting her bowl aside, then his, and turns to face him. Her hands are on her hips, her gaze steady as she looks down at him. “Can I ask you something personal?”
He frowns but nods hesitantly.
“Have you ever… been with someone?”
His face flushes crimson, and he drops his gaze to the floor.
“That’s a no, then.” Her voice is warm, not teasing, but it makes him flinch anyway.
“Don’t mean nothin’,” he mumbles, fidgeting where he sits.
“It means everything,” she counters, stepping closer. “Because if no one’s shown you what it feels like to be wanted, how’re you supposed to know?”
His heart hammers against his ribs as she moves between his knees, crouching down and resting her hands lightly on his shins. He stares at her like a deer caught in headlights. “What’re you doin’?”
She smiles, tilting her head. “Only what you want me to. But you have to tell me if you do.”
He swallows hard, his hands gripping the edge of the couch. “I...I dunno.”
“It’s okay to want, Daryl,” she murmurs, moving her legs up and onto his lap with a slow, deliberate movement so she's straddling him, her hands now resting delicately on his shoulders.
His breath catches, and he freezes, his hands hovering uselessly in the air, "Okay," he breathes.
Her voice drops lower, softer. “You don’t even know where to put your hands, do you?”
“I— I can’t—”
She gently lifts his wrists, guiding his hands to the curve of her hips. “Start here.”
He stares at her, wide-eyed, his fingers twitching against her waist. “You sure ‘bout this?”
“I’ve never been more sure.” She says, her hand coming up to cup his jaw, the touch sending electricity into his skin, “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing. Only if you want me to.”
His grip tightens slightly, a shuddering breath escaping him. “Yeah. I want it. I want you.”
Daryl barely has time to process anything before she tilts his chin up, forcing his gaze to meet hers. Her hands are steady, her expression soft but laced with something deeper-desire, maybe? His throat goes dry.
"First things first," she murmurs, brushing her thumb along the line of his jaw. "You ever kissed anyone before?"
He shakes his head, his breathing becoming irregular.
Her smile softens as it spreads across her face, endearing and non judgmental. She leans in, her breath warm against his lips. "Then let me teach you."
Her mouth brushes his softly, testing, like she's giving him the chance to pull away. He doesn't. Instead, his hands tighten on her hips as she deepens the kiss, her lips moving against his in a way that makes his head spin.
"Relax," she whispers against his mouth, pulling back just enough to guide him. He exhales shakily, his shoulders dropping slightly. When she kisses him again, he leans into it this time, his lips parting hesitantly.
She hums in approval, her hands threading into his hair, tugging gently to encourage him. He nearly lets out an inhuman noise at the feeling of her fingers curling in his hair, but he swallows it down, instead focusing on her soft lips on his.
"That's it," she breathes, her voice low and sultry. "Just follow me."
Her tongue traces the seam of his lips, and he jerks slightly, his breath hitching. She pulls back, laughing softly. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he rasps, his face burning. "Just... wasn't expectin' that."
"Well, get used to it," she teases, leaning in again. This time, when her tongue slides tentatively into his mouth, he meets her halfway, mimicking her movements as best as he can. It's clumsy, but she doesn't seem to mind, her soft moans sending heat straight through him. It suddenly occurs to him that she might be enjoying this just as much as hime.
As the kiss deepens, her hips begin to move, rolling slowly against his lap. Daryl tenses, his fingers twitching against her sides as she grinds against him, finally drawing a low, shaky groan from his throat.
Her lips brushing against his stubble and eventually against the shell of his ear where she whispers, "You like that?"
"Yeah. Feels-feels good." he nods, swallowing hard.
She smiles, pressing a kiss to his jaw before pulling back just enough to grab the hem of her shirt. Slowly, she lifts it over her head, tossing it aside to reveal bare skin and soft curves that leave him staring, wide-eyed and trozen.
"You're beautiful," he mutters before he can stop himself, the words tumbling out unfiltered.
Her smile softens, and she cups his face in her hands, searching his eyes. "Could say the same about you. Touch me, Daryl."
His hands flex nervously on her hips, now pressing into bare skin that feels hot to the touch. "Don't wanna mess it up."
"You won't." She reaches for his hands again, guiding them upward until his calloused fingers brush the swell of her breasts. He sucks in a sharp breath, his touch featherlight and hesitant.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice rough with uncertainty.
"It's perfect," she murmurs, arching into his touch. "Here, let me show you."
She places her hands over his, guiding his fingers to knead and explore, her soft sighs of pleasure encouraging him. He grows bolder with each movement, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, drawing a gasp from her lips.
"Like that," she breathes, her hips grinding down harder against him. "You're doing so good, Daryl."
Her praise sends a jolt of heat through him, and he pulls her closer, burying his face against her neck as his confidence grows.
"Never done nothin' like this before," he admits, his voice muffled, his lips tracing the column of her neck and moving down to her shoulders, onto her clavicle and chest.
"You're a fast learner," she says breathlessly, tugging his hair gently to make him look at her. Her lips find his again, hungrier this time, and he responds with a desperation that surprises even him.
His hands continue their kneading of her breasts, traveling around her to hug her tight against him, the swell of them pressing into his clothed chest, his hips beginning to move instinctively beneath her. The thought occurs to him that he hates clothes.
She gasps against his mouth, breaking the kiss to press her forehead to his.
"You're incredible," she whispers, her voice breathy. "I've wanted this for so long."
Daryl swallows hard, his chest heaving.
"Don't know what you see in me, but... I don't wanna stop."
"Then don't," she murmurs, kissing him again. "I'll take care of you. Just let me."
With newfound confidence—or maybe just desperation—Daryl leans forward, pressing his lips against the soft skin of her chest. He works his way down, his kisses slow and clumsy, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her breath hitches when his mouth brushes between the swells of her breasts, and when he kisses the top, then the underside, he swears she arches into him on purpose, trying to drive him out of his damn mind.
Then, tentatively, he takes her nipple into his mouth. The sound she makes—low and ragged—has his cock straining so hard against his jeans he thinks he might lose it right there. Her hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging lightly as his tongue flicks out, testing, tasting her. She gasps, and that sound drives a hunger in him he’s never felt before.
His hips shift beneath her as she continues grinding against him, her movements deliberate and unrelenting. The friction is almost too much, the ache in his lap unbearable. He grips her hips hard, trying to slow her down. “You’re gonna drive me crazy,” he mutters, his voice rough, lips brushing against her neck.
She exhales a shaky laugh, a smile teasing her lips. “That’s kinda the point.”
Before he can respond, she leans back slightly, her hands moving to the waistband of her jeans. “Here,” she says, popping the button open with practiced ease. His breath catches as she begins to slide the zipper down, revealing the curve of her hip.
His mind races. He’s never had a woman like this before—so wanting for him, so sure of herself. His chest tightens at the thought of messing this up, of not being enough for her. But at the same time, his heart pounds with anticipation. God, he’s thought about her like this more times than he can admit. What her skin would feel like. What her lips would taste like. And now, it’s happening, and he feels so far out of his depth he doesn’t know where to begin.
She must notice his wide eyed stare, because her other hand tilts his chin up then, catching his gaze, "Only if you want to," she says again.
His throat is suddenly very dry, and all he can do is nod.
She smiles, and his chest tightens. She guides his hand beneath the waistband of her jeans, the soft skin of her pubic bone brushing his fingers first. The light tuft of hair there is the only thing rougher than her skin, and when his fingers graze lower, they slide easily over the slick heat of her center.
A growl rumbles in his chest, unbidden, as he realizes how wet she is. For him. His head spins, his blood roaring in his ears. When his fingers dip lower, pressing into her, her walls clench around them greedily. She moans—loud, uninhibited—and the sound nearly undoes him.
"Yes, Daryl, that's it," she breathes. "Curl them, baby."
He does as she says, his fingers pressing into her, finding that soft, spongy spot that makes her cry out and buck against him. His palm brushes against the swollen nub at the apex of her sex, and the way she moves against him, grinding against his hand, has him gripping her hip with his free hand to ground himself.
“Goddamn,” he mutters, his voice raw as he watches her, awestruck.
She’s beautiful—blissed out and needy, her body moving with his like they’ve done this a hundred times before. He can’t take it anymore. His free hand comes up, fingers curling lightly around the back of her neck as he pulls her down to kiss him. The kiss is desperate, hungry, and the little sounds she makes against his lips make his body tighten unbearably.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps against his mouth, her voice trembling. “I’m so close.”
Her words send a jolt through him, and he groans low in his throat, the tension in his core mounting to an unbearable peak as he groans against her lips, gasping for breath as his high flushes through him. Before he can stop it, his release hits him hard and stars break against his vision. Her whimpers rise to full on ragged moans as she presses into his hand then one last time, his fingers knuckle deep inside her as they press against her spongey walls as she tightens around them, sucking his digits further into her as the climax breaks over her.
His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, her kisses trailing down his jaw and neck as her hips slow, her ragged breaths giving way to soft, contented sighs.
When she pulls back, her cheeks flushed and her eyes hooded with lust, she looks down at him and smiles. “Did you just…?” she asks, her gaze dropping to his lap.
His face burns as he remembers himself, the wetness in his pants prominent as they both look down. Slowly, he pulls his hand from her, the loss of contact making her frown slightly. He bows his head, shame tightening his chest as he presses his hands into his lap.
“That is so hot,” she murmurs, her voice rich and warm, not even a hint of laughter behind it.
Daryl’s head jerks up, his breath catching in his throat. “Hot?” he rasps, his voice cracking slightly.
She nods, her smile soft and utterly disarming as her fingers trail along his jaw. “Yeah. You’re so worked up just from me, Daryl. That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her words make his head spin. She’s serious—dead serious—and it hits him like a freight train. She isn’t mocking him, isn’t annoyed or disappointed. She likes him. Wants him. And not just in some passing way.
“You really mean that?” he mumbles, his hands twitching where they return to rest awkwardly against her hips.
Her brow furrows slightly, her expression turning tender. “Of course I mean it. You have no idea how crazy you drive me, do you?”
He stares at her, stunned silent, his heart hammering in his chest. He doesn’t understand it—can’t wrap his head around why someone like her would want someone like him—but the look in her eyes leaves no room for doubt.
Her lips brush against his, slow and teasing. “Wanna go again?” she whispers, her voice like honey. “I’ve got a few more things I can teach you.”
His heart stutters, and he swears the heat in her gaze alone could undo him all over again. She’s not just enjoying herself—she’s reveling in it, like she’s been waiting for this moment as long as he has.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, rough and hoarse. He swallows hard, his body stirring again despite the lingering haze of his release. “Yeah, okay.”
Her smile widens, and it’s nothing short of radiant. She leans in, her mouth covering his in a kiss that feels deeper this time, more confident. He lets himself relax, his hands finding her waist, and for the first time, he lets himself believe this is real—that she’s here, wanting him, and not judging him for a second.
Her hips roll against him again, slow and deliberate, and his fingers tighten instinctively on her waist. When she breaks the kiss, her lips curve into a smirk, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. “Good. ‘Cause we’re just getting started.”
I WANT YOUR VIDEO
college baseball player!leon x f!reader word count: 3,836 warnings: sex tape, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex with seemingly creampie, hint of corruption kink, leon's kind of an fboy if you squint, brief spanking synopsis: you've just gotten a brand new video camera and leon intends to use it properly...
“Shit, shit, shit!”
She curses through gritted teeth as she repeatedly jabs her finger against the record button, sliding her hand through the handle on the side of the small device, hastily bringing the viewfinder to her right eye. She quickly finds Leon where he stands in his ready position at third base just in time, as the batter swings and hits a ground ball that heads straight for him.
She gasps and her breath hitches, and she holds it in her throat as the scene seems to unravel in slow motion. Leon scoops the ball into his glove and shuffles into his throwing motion, her camcorder follows the ball as it soars through the air towards the first baseman and into his glove.
The runner only hits first base a second after the ball hits the glove.
Leon’s won the game.
She moves the viewfinder away from her eye to throw both hands in the air, her cheer emitting more as a shrill scream as the bleachers erupt into an uproar of applause. She watches Leon as his face splits into a grin, jumping in the air and pumping his fist in the air as his teammates crowd around him, banging their fists on his back, their palms on the top of his head.
She laughs and aims the camera back down to them, watching through the viewfinder as Leon disappears behind a wall of cheering baseball players. The wall crumbles only for a moment as two men dump the contents of a water cooler over Leon’s head, his dark blonde hair flattening against his forehead and beads of water drip down his face as he lifts his head and hollers.
People begin to make their way down from the stands and towards the field, which she takes as her cue to cut the recording to make her own way down to the dugout. She does her best to slither her way past the sea of bodies before her and she rolls onto the tips of her toes, searching for Leon between heads. She huffs, pursing her lips as she decides to just wait for him to find her until she feels a pair of hands on her waist and she shrieks as she’s lifted up into the air.
Someone hollers behind her and she kicks out with her feet, squirming to try and get a glimpse over her shoulder.
“Leon!” She whines as she’s finally set onto the ground and spun around, a hand on the small of her back drawing her into his chest. A mixture of water and sweat drops from Leon Kennedy’s forehead to the tip of her nose and she wrinkles it, reaching up with her free hand to wipe it away. “Gross. You’re all sticky and sweaty.”
In a sea of dark blue, there seems to be a reflection of a star, one she’s become all too familiar with. She narrows her eyes at the mischievous gleam in his eyes as he scrunches his nose, nudging her forehead with his.
“Don’t give me that,” he whispers, drawing his mouth to hers. “You know you love it,” he says against her lips and she rolls her eyes, locking her arms around his neck. “You wish, Leon Kennedy,” she mutters back, unable to help the curving of her lips as Leon practically swallows them with his, groaning into her mouth.
The sheer force of Leon’s kiss nearly makes her drop the camera and after only a fleeting moment, she pulls away, hyper aware of the fact that they were most definitely not alone.
“You almost made me drop my brand new camera,” she complains, unraveling her arms from around his neck to fuss with her camera, willing the blood in her cheeks to cool down. Leon moans against the crown of her head, pressing a kiss to her skin.
“Wouldn’t want that,” he murmurs, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Their eyes meet again and her bottom lip quivers against his fingers because suddenly she knows what that roguish glint in his eyes earlier means. He leans in closer until their noses almost touch, “haven’t even gotten to put it to good use yet.”
They barely made it through the door of Leon’s dorm before he was already tearing her shirt off.
“Leon!” She moans as his kisses trail down her lips and to that delicate patch of skin on her neck that always has her knees wobbling. Her hands find his shoulders and fists a handful of his fresh, clean shirt as he backpedals towards his bedroom, kicking a foot behind him to open the door. He tugs her inside and kicks it back closed behind her, his teeth marking her neck, his forefinger lifting the strap of her bag away from her shoulder.
However, before he can absentmindedly toss it to the floor, he blinks, pulling away from her altogether. Her skin is warm and her vision has begun to blur but she blinks throughout, her brows knit as she watches him sift through the contents of her bag.
“What are you doing?” She pants and she watches as he finally fishes out what he’d been looking for. “A-ha!” He grins, holding up her brand new video camera. He begins trying to navigate all the different buttons and her spine stiffens at the sight— somehow, in her lust-drunken haze, she’d forgotten all about Leon’s intentions for tonight.
She’s not sure if the idea either turns her on more or makes her want to vomit.
Either way, there’s an ache between her legs and she swallows, trying to resist the urge to press her thighs together to quell it.
“Leon, you’re not seriously…?” She trails off as he finally finds the record button, pressing down on it, sliding his hand through the strap on the side, and holding the camcorder up to face her. She freezes when she realizes she’s being recorded and draws her brows together. “Leon!”
She lunges, reaching for the camera but he backs away and she can see his toothy, little grin peeking out from the side of the folded-out screen. With the camera aimed at her face, reaches out to cup her cheek, drawing her in for another kiss.
“What? Isn’t this what cameras are used for?” He murmurs against her lips and she rolls her eyes, peeking towards the camera from corners of her vision. Leon’s tongue swirls her mouth and she hums into his kiss, already feeling her opposition begin to fade. She pulls away just enough to whisper, “you’re a menace, Leon Kennedy.”
Her eyes flutter open to find he’s already staring, drawing her further into that dark, lustrous ocean of his that never fails to make liquid of her insides. His breath looms over her face like rolling smoke and she’s sinking with her head below his surface. Her gaze drops to his lips as they curve into a roguish, crooked grin.
“And you love it,” he mutters before her lips are enveloped with his again. She moans into his mouth as she cups either side of his face, bringing him in even closer to her orbit.
It's primal, the way he kisses her and she matches with equal fervor, fingers gripping locks of hair at the nape of his neck, pulling hard enough to make him groan into her mouth. His hand not preoccupied with the camcorder finds her hip, palming the flesh through her little denim shorts, grounding his bulge into her front. She mewls at the delicious friction as a flame kindles at her core and she pulls away, chest heaving with the weight of her breaths.
Leon watches through the viewfinder of the camera as she sinks to her knees before him, fingers hooking over the hem of his sweats. His entire body reacts when his cock springs free from his boxers as they, along with his pants, pool at his ankles. He watches through the little fold-out screen as she blinks up at him, as if she’s a saint, as if she’s nothing short of innocent.
She has to know what she’s doing. Leon still remembers that day a few months back in the batting cage, remembers the nervous, stuttering mess of a girl she was then.
It was back when she was just a silly girl with a silly little crush— she didn’t ever truly expect anything to come from it. She’d had little to no experience with sex or relationships for that matter, so she learned to keep her fantasies private, her feelings locked away inside a vault.
Or so she thought.
Until Leon stopped her after chemistry one day to ask for help. Everyone knew she was top of the class, and he’d seen the way she looked at him, sneaking glances when she thought he wouldn’t notice. But to find that she’d been writing his name in the very notebook she lent him?
He knew he had to have her.
And now he does, and now he’s got her on her knees before him, fist wrapped around his cock with a camera practically in her face. It was no secret that she’d changed over the course of the past few months they’d been together, and Leon took great pride in having done the honors of breaking the good girl.
Now she was his good girl, conditioned to suck cock like her life depended on it, and fuck, he could come just from that thought alone.
“Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath as he watches her lick a long stripe from his sack, up his length, all the way to his tip through the viewfinder. She stares at him— or rather, the camcorder— through her lashes, even as she parts her lips wide enough to take in just the head, the tip of her tongue circling around the slit at the top. Leon’s breath stutters in his chest and he gasps, a gravelly “oh” slipping from his lips.
“Spit on it for me,” he rasps and she complies, gathering saliva on the tip of her tongue, spewing it onto the head. Her fist pumps up and down, coating the entire length with her spit and it’s pornographic, the way Leon throws his head back with a moan.
“The whole thing?” She asks, absentmindedly pumping her fist from the base of his dick to just below the head, tilting her head and blinking up at him as if she wasn’t trying to wring his release out of him. He has to sink his teeth into his bottom lip to control himself, snaking his hand not holding the camera around to the back of her head, taking a fistful of her hair between his fingers.
“You’re a fuckin’ minx, you know that?” He practically growls and her lips curve against the head of his cock, just before she dips her chin.
“You love it,” she uses his own words against him and then her lips part to wrap around him and oh, he’s already overcome with bliss. He has to pray somewhere in the back of his mind that the camcorder is still focused on her because he lolls his head backwards, squeezing his eyelids closed as she slowly takes him into her mouth.
He can feel every inch of him being drawn between her lips, all the way until he feels his tip brush the back of her throat and he can feel the way it tightens around him.
A filthy, rather embarrassing noise sounds from her efforts and her cheeks warm but Leon doesn’t care, if anything, it only turns him on more. She lifts her head up until just the tip is in her mouth and Leon grants her this one moment to gasp for breath before he’s guiding her back down his length, panting as every single inch of his cock sheaths inside her throat.
“Fuck!” He groans, peering back down at her through the camcorder’s screen. He can see her hand raise to wrap around his base just below it and she squeezes, pumping while she swirls her tongue against his tip, bobbing her head up and down as much of the length as she can take.
“Shit, that’s it,” he groans, watching as she takes him deeper, her nose against the little, coarse hairs around his base. “Just like that, pretty girl.”
She whines around him and comes up for air, lips glistening with spit, streams of tears spilling from over the side of her lids. She blinks back the water in her eyes as she gasps for breath and Leon, with his fingers still tangled in her hair, tug her back down into his cock. There’s a knot building in his sack that’s making him start to see white, his release so close he can practically taste it.
He almost loses himself in his bliss before he comes to his senses, pulling her mouth off of his cock by the grip in her hair, his cock twitching and slit crying with precum. He pants, cursing beneath his breath as she rocks back on her heels, a string of spit hanging from her bottom lip that she wipes away with the back of her hand.
It’s all so filthy and provocative yet so damn erotic. It seems fitting now that they were recording— this is exactly the type of shit you see in the porn videos.
She blinks up at him from her spot on the floor and he leans down, kissing her just so he can taste her, humming at the mixture of saliva and precum in her mouth. He pulls away, a bridge of spit stringing between their lips, and turns, stepping out of his boxers and sweats before walking towards his dresser.
She eyes him curiously, still panting as she watches him place the camcorder down on the top of his dresser, adjusting the position until he’s certain the lens faces the bed. Blood bites her cheeks and lava oozes at her apex as Leon makes his back towards her, tugging his shirt over his head during the journey.
“Off,” his voice drips with authority and he gestures with his chin towards her clothes. His shirt falls to the floor and he’s left naked, save for the silver chain that dangles just above his chest and she swallows at the sight before her, pressing her thighs together as she rises from her place on the ground.
Their gazes meet and lock as she grabs the bottom of her shirt— the one she always wears to his games that has his name and number on the back— and Leon greedily takes in the sight before him as she pulls the material over her head. Her denim shorts are the next to go and he, admittedly, watches her breasts over the top of her bra as she bends over to step out of her bottoms, tossing them aside.
She’s left in her underwear and her eyes boldly meet his once again, her lids heavy against them, a refulgent white flame in the backdrops of her pupils. Her hands reach around to her back to unclasp her bra and she watches as Leon eyes the way the straps slip down her shoulders, the length of her arms until her breasts are finally on full display. His breath hitches as the lace falls down to the floor and she hooks her fingers tauntingly around the hem of her panties, lifting it up and sliding her fingers back and forth of the expanse of them before at last, she pulls them down her legs until they’re both standing before each other, nude and burning like two stars in supernova.
She makes her way back towards Leon, wrapping her hands around the back of his head, drawing herself in until they were close, yet not close enough.
“What’s next?” She asks, a corner of her mouth curved in a smirk and Leon’s eyes narrow, the center of his stormy sea expanding until nearly his entire iris is veiled by shadow.
“You’ve had your fun,” he says before pushing her towards the bed. She lands with a huff on her stomach and her brows draw together as she peers at him from over her shoulder. “Now I wanna see you on all fours.”
Again, her core aches at the mere fact of how dominant he is and she can feel her arousal as it drips down her slit as she complies, lifting herself up until she’s on her knees and elbows. It’s a rather embarrassing position, if not risqué, at the least. Knowing she’s being recorded in this position only further makes her skin burn, as well as it makes insides melt, hot magma oozing straight down to her center.
The bed dips behind her and she mewls as Leon’s palm slams down onto one side of her ass with a loud smack, the sting deliciously lingering on her flesh. The nearness of him behind her makes her bones rattle and spine erupt in shivers as he runs his palm up and down the expanse of her back. She can feel the head of his cock against her ass, teasing her, taunting her.
“Leon…” she whimpers, wiggling her hips backwards in hopes of some sort of friction. Another slap against the other side of her ass makes her body quake and she yelps, balling her fists against the sheets. She catches a glimpse of him over her shoulder as he takes his cock in one hand, slowly pumping up and down his length, a quiet curse slipping from his lips.
“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He purrs, reaching forward to trace the line of her jaw with his forefinger. He hunches over her body to press a soft kiss to the side of her mouth and she hums, feeling herself turn into a ball of malleable putty in the palm of his hands.
“Yeah?” She says and he chuckles softly, nodding, his nose against her cheek. “Yeah. So, so pretty,” he whispers and she hums again as he pulls away from her face, palm once again soothing over her back. His right hand rests on the left side of her ass and for a moment, it’s peaceful, for a moment, it’s quiet.
Then Leon bucks his hips forward and with one thrust, she’s full to the brim. Her lips part to make way for a loud gasp that fully permeates his bedroom and lingers, balling her fists so hard against the sheets, she could feel her nails digging into her palms.
“And so, so damn tempting,” he grunts as he pulls back his hips just to piston them back into her again. “A fuckin’ vixen is what you are.”
Bolts of ecstasy half her ability to make words as Leon sets his pace, his thrusts hard, forceful and fast. It’s truly pornographic— again, making it all too fitting that they’re being recorded— the way he fucks her. He’s like an animal and all this energy has been pent up inside of him for so long, too long. You would have no idea he just played a nearly three hour long baseball game.
He’s on a high— from making the last out of the game to being so lucky to have a girl like her on his arm— and he’s pouring every single ounce of that energy into her, into each and every single one of his thrusts. She has to dig her nails into the sheets to keep her body from being driven too far up the bed away from him.
His hands find her hips and he uses them as leverage to fuck into her harder, deeper. The sound of their skin slapping together permeates the bedroom, her eyes rolling into the back of her head and her toes curl as the tip of his cock repeatedly hits that spongy spot deep inside of her deliciously. Over and over and over and over again does he find that spot and it’s sooner rather than later that she feels herself burning, that kindling that had once been a small flame at the pit of her belly now fully blossomed into a wildfire, wreaking havoc across her ovaries.
“Le… Lee… Leon!” She cries, feeling tears brim and sting the outline of her lids as he mutters curses underneath his breath, making it his sole mission to utterly destroy her with his cock. “Slow down or I’m gonna… I’m gonna…! Oh, fuck!”
She hears him laugh behind her, bending over her body— all whilst maintaining his speed— to press a tender kiss to the center of her spine.
“That’s kind of the point,” he says against her back, lips curved into an impish grin against her skin. She can feel drool fall from her mouth down to her chin and she prays that the camcorder can’t pick this embarrassing detail up as she clenches around him, his dick having coaxed her so close to her peak.
Leon lifts away from her back and barks a curse when she tightens around him, his hips stuttering. “Gonna take me down with you, huh?” He growls, bucking his hips harder and harder and harder into her until she begins to crack like the shell of an egg, her orgasm spilling through the jagged lines like the yolk.
She succumbs to blinding white, hot bliss and she shudders, Leon leaning over her to wrap his arms around her waist as he, too, is overtaken by the sheer power of his release. “Leon!” She moans, either of their noises echoing off the four walls of his room and she hopes somewhere in the back of her mind that his roommate, Carlos, is not home to further be exposed to their coition.
Leon’s hips finally still and he simply holds her through either of their orgasms, his chest flush to her back. She can feel his dick twitch inside of her and she mewls, feeling his fingers brush through her hair, his lips finding her ear.
He presses a kiss to the shell before he whispers, “okay?”
It’s hard to speak through her panting but she manages to nod, her eyelids feeling heavy as they fall over her eyes. “Okay,” she replies and she simply lays there on her stomach, Leon on her back. The room smells of sex and perspiration but at its core, it smells like Leon, like home. His warmth is like the fire in a hearth on a cold winter's day and she hums as fatigue washes over her, lulling her towards a temporary slumber.
Leon groans from behind her and she feels him lift off of the bed, albeit reluctantly. Her nose wrinkles in displeasure but she does not lift her head, does not even open her eyes. She’s simply too tired, but before she drifts away to sleep, she hears a string of curses being said beneath Leon’s breath.
“Shit, shit, shit! How the fuck do you turn this thing off?”
a/n; teehee i'm so happy so many of you enjoyed the first baseball player leon fic, so here's a treat! wrote this up while freezing my tits off in the bathtub 😘
📹 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the entire world to me 🫶
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We all love and remember the Matchmaker fanfic but hear me out! Imagine like a second part that happens at CDC.
I'm actually writing that now!! I think someone mentioned it in the notes, and I thought it would be one of the only times you could fuck showered Daryl on a clean bed
The image this gave me is sending me into a deep hole 😔 I need this man
I love this video
“It’s really not”
cw. selfish eating out.
re4!leon kennedy is impatient. especially when he gets home, eyes hooded. he doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure. only for his. he’ll just walk in, you with a pretty smile sat in your desk chair, greeting him. but leon’s already on his knees, pulling your legs apart as he doesn’t pay mind to your surprised hitch of breath. your pants and panties are already pulled away and tossed, before one of his hands are rested on your stomach to stop you from moving so much. he doesn’t say a word as he harshly widens yours legs even more, leaning in, and licking straight up your already weeping pussy. no matter how much you squirm leon won’t be stopping, lapping at your cunt until all you can say is babbled murmurs. his body begins to relax the more he eats you out, lifting your legs to rest over his shoulders as he sucks and nibbles on your clit, making your thighs shake. leon doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure. he’s selfish when he’s tense. so, when you’ve reached your first orgasm his tongue isn’t slowing, now beginning to thrust into your hole, as you try and breath through the overstimulation, pushing at his head to leave your poor cunt. “l-leon—i can’t—“ “jus’ stay quiet.” he murmurs lowly into your pussy as he pushes his head even further between your legs making your chest heave. one after the other. your orgasms never end, and your mind is mush. leon kisses your pussy lips, sucks on your clit and devours all of your arousal. and it’s all for his benefit alone.
part two
obsession
series masterlist .. taglist .. masterlist
warnings: profanity, stalking/following, paranoia, mean!Daryl, aggressive Daryl, Daryl’s past, toxic relationship vibes, obsessive behavior, predator vs prey vibes
the role of the fox
You were suddenly aware of the weight of your footsteps as you carefully treaded over crunching leaves and dry twigs. Thankfully your vision adjusted to the low light after some time, but not before you got a few scrapes and bruises. In the dark, it was hard to avoid smacking your face on the low hanging branches, or tripping over the messy system of roots protruding from the earth.
Needless to say, it wasn’t long before Daryl caught wind of his uninvited tagalong. You were loud. He let you keep up the sneaky act for some time, though. Mostly, he just couldn’t figure out why you’d follow him in the first place. He wasn’t doing anything special. He had originally snuck off for a cigarette, but when he realized you were clumsily lurking in the background, he decided to just keep walking to see what you’d do. Eventually, he managed to evade you, backtracking a bit and circling back to sneak up behind you.
By then, you’d realized you lost his trail and you were just blindly feeling in front of you for the next tree to support yourself. He followed you like this for a while, just observing, thinking of the past. It reminded him of hunting with his father when he was a boy, trying to keep quiet, out of the way. Dad would often bring his old friend Bo out with them so they could drink and shoot while Daryl fetched the kills. One time, Bo brought a rabbit trap with a bunny he’d caught in his wife’s garden, eating up all her greens. When Daryl, a boy of just six or seven, asked what the bunny was for, the old man just grinned and crouched down to the boy’s level.
“Foxes.” The geezer gleamed, breathing his whiskey-hot breath all over Daryl’s face.
“Foxes?” Daryl repeated as he tilted his head.
“Yup.” Bo affirmed with a proud nod. “See, when we get on down by the creek, there’s a few dens. I seen em last week. Foxes. We let the rabbit go, the foxes’ll follow.”
“Then we shoot ‘em?” Daryl queried.
“Exactly, it’s a trap.”
So, back to you. You were clumsy, as previously stated. You stepped to loudly, not careful enough with the underbrush. Had you been hunting for food, you’d have disturbed any tracks that could have led you to a meal. You were also careless. You stumbled around blindly without a single care for whatever may have crossed your path, be it a walker or anything else. You weren’t in tune with your surroundings at all. Hell, you didn’t even notice him stalking so closely behind you. You were out of your element, but he was right where he belonged. He kind of liked it that way, too. He was good at it. It reminded him of the animal documentaries he’d seen before; he was the lion and you were the gazelle. He reigned superior.
Back at camp, he often felt the opposite around you. With so many watchful eyes, he hated the vulnerable feeling he got when you were near. He was used to the criticism of others. He already didn’t trust anyone there. He barely trusted his brother, the last of his kin. He was a loner. But you had the kind of eyes that seemed to pierce right through him, tethering him to reality he didn’t wanna face. He liked being in his bubble, closed off from the others so he could avoid unnecessary attachments. You forcibly reminded him of the humanity of others when he much preferred to consider them colleagues at best.
The more he watched you, the more he realized how peeved he was to be affected so largely by something so small; so puny and defenseless. He’d watched you enough to know you were no survivalist. Even the gazelles in the grasslands had a sense for danger when the lions were prowling nearby. You lacked their innate instinct to survive. You were more like a bunny, which inevitably meant he played the role of the fox.
Adrift in a sea of thought, Daryl didn’t notice right away how alert you’d become. You’d begun to sense the danger of being watched. Your pace quickened, you jumped at the sounds of the night. It sparked something in him. He knew he was scaring you. He could tell you were trying to get away. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Not a bone in his body felt the urge to step out of the shadows and declare his presence to be his. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t embarrassment that held him back, that much he did know. You followed him first, after all. Why was this so different? He was glued to your trail, unable to resist, regardless of whatever potential consequences awaited him. This must have been how those foxes felt, he thought. Back then he thought the foxes silly for falling for Bo’s tricks time and time again. Now he understood just how cruel this trap really was.
After trying to ignore it, you were finally sure you were being followed. The signs were subtle, but real. Even worse, you had no clue where you were. You figured the easy solution would have been to turn around and go back the way you came, as you were sure you hadn’t taken many twists or turns. It should’ve led you straight back to camp. The issue with that plan was the fact that you were sure someone was back there, and you weren’t ready to face that reality quite yet. You’d hoped you could just keep going, and whatever or whoever it was would lose interest, but you’d given up on that idea about forty paces back.
You guessed your only option was to run. Maybe you could lose them. With little time to second guess yourself, your adrenaline took over and kicked your legs into gear. You broke into a full sprint, unfazed when your shoulders smacked into passing trees. Daryl was caught off guard when you ran, but like a hungry beast, he chased after you. It was like you triggered his prey drive. His primal instincts had taken over.
Your voice began to betray you as you panted, winded from the chase already. Panic rattled your breaths. Your movements lost all fluidity. Eventually you lost your grounding and slid down the edge of a shallow basin. It wasn’t a bad drop — maybe three or four feet — but the roots and jagged layers of rock and dirt still tattered your top and scraped up the flesh beneath. Things were quiet at the bottom. You didn’t even hear any crickets as you sat there and caught your breath.
When you glanced up at where you fell from, no one was there. But, when you focused your attention to the other side of the basin, you saw him there. A tall, dark, burly figure. You didn’t recognize him at first, not until he stepped out into the light of the moon. You pushed yourself up to your feet in disbelief.
“You?” You whispered as he stepped toward you cautiously. “You chased me.”
He shrugged and felt around in his pocket for a moment, pulling a worn pack of cigarettes from within. He popped the skinny thing in his mouth and held it with his lips as he flipped open his zippo and took a long drag from the flame. A cloud of smoke shrouded around him as he exhaled. He took a step closer.
“What are you doing?” You demanded. He stepped closer. “Why’d you chase me?” You pressed on. He took a step closer. “I’ll scream.” You warned. He raised his eyebrows, amused.
“Nah. No point in that. It’s like ringin’ a dinner bell these days.” He rasped coolly.
“So then why’d you chase me?” You reiterated.
“Why’d ya follow me?” He shot back. You faltered, chewing at your lip.
“Well, why’d you come out here so late?” You wondered. He held the cigarette up. “All this for a cigarette?”
“Nah. Didn’t plan on comin’ out this far.” He admitted. “Just didn’t know what to think when I heard someone followin’ me.” He shot you an accusatory glare. You gulped and rubbed your arm in an attempt to soothe your racing pulse. You could sense his irritation. You wondered what he’d do to you for invading his privacy and following him. Surely, no good intentions could have led him to chase you so far away from the others before he finally confronted you for sneaking around. He took a final step towards you, shrinking the gap between you to about a foot of space.
You didn’t know what to say. He didn’t either. He didn’t even know why he said anything at all. He didn’t owe you shit, especially not an explanation. He should have turned around when you fell and left you to find your own way home. It would’ve served you right for creeping after him like you did.
“It’d do ya good to mind the business that pays you.” He warned, flicking ash away before taking another drag. “And, last I checked, I didn’t have you on my fuckin’ payroll.”
“I’m sorry.” You uttered quickly.
“The fuck does sorry do for me?” He scoffed. He looked down fiddled with the cigarette in his hand before he held it up in front of your face. “Here. Have some.” He offered.
“I don’t smoke.” You denied.
“I wasn’t askin’.” He whispered. You slowly reached for the nasty thing, pinching it between your fingers. The sickeningly sweet smell drifted up your nostrils. Your throat felt tight. Still, you managed a meek thanks. “My treat.” He said sarcastically.
You wrapped your lips around the dirty brown filter and took it in, exhaling smoothly.
“Pretty easy for someone who’s never smoked.” He commented.
“Didn’t say never. Just said I don’t.” You clarified. He huffed.
“You sure ya wanna be smart with me?” He asked.
“I’m not even sure I want to be alone out here with you.” You blurted.
“Just when I don’t know you’re there, right?” He retorted.
“I wasn’t trying to scare you, I just—“
A rough hand cupped your jaw and cut you off. His flared nostrils washed heavy breaths over your face. His fingers dug into your skin with a bruising force as he scowled down at you. Struggling was futile.
“Let me make one thing clear to you.” He growled. “I ain’t scared of nothin.” He spat, releasing your face harshly before he stormed away.
Tears welled up in your eyes as you rubbed over your sore cheeks and watched him disappear into the night. His chest was pounding with rage. How dare you accuse him of being afraid? Of you? Of anyone? Had he not proven himself fearless in the face of violence? His thoughts raced around his mind and consumed him. He wanted so badly to write you off as a little nuisance, nothing more. He couldn’t, though. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not that night, nor for days to come. You relentlessly invaded his thoughts at any given time. He didn’t even realize it then, just how comical it all really was. Not only were you the bunny — and he the fox — but he was also the hunter who set the bunny free. He walked right into his own trap.
tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix @superbowlisgay @liizzygrant @eddiemunsonsupremecy @raeraegoaway @ophelialaufey @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfsalltheway @negansbestie @mfnqueen1
Ur writing is crazy hot
thank you so goddamn much anon it means a lot I'm glad people like it
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