Daryl Dixion X F!Reader Nsfw: Fingers In Your Mouth

EEEEEEEEEE THE END HAS ME KICKING MY FEET/GIGGLING/SMILING AT MY PHONE EEEEEEEEEE I love sheepish bashful Daryl awwwwweee

Hi! I saw your request for some drabbles and was wondering if you could do a fluff Daryl x Fem Reader set in S2 Ep7 where she comes to Daryl's defense (maybe a slap to the face 😆) after Shane's rant about how Sophia would run away if she saw him.

Daryl x Reader requested

author's notes: helloooo!! I loved this and I was cracking up rewatching the scene. Thank you for the request!!

Not much of a sweet fluff but still a fun fluff

"We can't just sweep this under the rug," Andrea's voice is insistent as Shane paces, pushing his hat harshly onto his head. The blue brim shades his angry eyes as he steels over the group. The sun beats down on all of you as you stand in front of the large dilapidated barn. Snarling echoes in the barn ahead, making your skin crawl. Glenn had been acting antsy all morning, finally announcing to the group that Hershel and his family have walkers locked in their barn like they’re just sick relatives waiting to get better.

"It ain't right," T-Dog says flippantly, crossing his arms. "Not remotely."

"Okay," Shane sighs, loud and impatient. "We either gotta go in there, we gotta make things right, or we just gotta go." He adjusts the brim of his hat as he looks at Rick. "Now, we’ve been talkin’ about Fort Banning for a long time."

You roll your eyes. Shane had been running his mouth about Fort Banning since the second you met him, and it was exhausting. He just would not shut the hell up.

"We can't go," Rick hisses, holding up a hand to silence Shane, but of course, Shane doesn’t stop.

"Why, Rick? Why?"

Carol’s small voice trembles as she steps up. "’Cause my daughter’s still out there."

Shane’s face shifts, softening into a strained mask of patience. His eyes close for a brief second, like he’s trying to summon every ounce of strength before speaking again. "Okay," he sighs, dragging a hand over his face. "Carol, I think it’s time we all start considerin’ the other possibility."

"Shane—" you bark, but Rick cuts you off.

"We’re not leavin’ Sophia behind," he says firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

Daryl, still battered from his fall down the ravine, steps forward. His voice is rough, but there’s conviction in every word. "I’m close to findin’ this girl. I just found her damn doll two days ago!"

"You found her doll, Daryl, that's what you did. You found a doll." Shane says incredulously.

There’s a beat of silence before Daryl’s voice rises to a roar, his arms swinging out as if daring Shane to keep going. "Man, you don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about!"

"Look, I’m just sayin’ what needs to be said!" Shane shouts back, voice booming. "You get a good lead, it’s in the first 48 hours—after that—"

"Shane, shut up!" you shout, your frustration boiling over, the barn of walkers becoming more and more riled as voices continue to climb.

"Let me tell you somethin' else, man!" Shane barks with a humorless laugh, "If she was alive out there and she saw you comin'—all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction, man!" he says, pointing across the farm.

Rick is in between them in an instant, Daryl lunging at Shane, his arms swinging in anger, but it's your temper that gets the better of you, and no one stops you as you stalk over in front of Shane.

A loud smack rents the air, your palm stinging on impact as it hits Shane's face. Suddenly, everyone goes still and very, very quiet.

"You," you hiss, jabbing a finger into Shane’s chest. "You shut your damn mouth, asshole. If you’d done half the work Daryl’s done for that little girl, we might’ve actually found her by now. But instead, you’re worried about what, exactly? Fort Banning? Give it a rest. We’re not leavin’ without Sophia. End of. Until you’ve got something useful to say, keep your damn mouth shut."

Your seething breaths come out heavy and hot as you look at the man whose skin is hot pink where you slapped him across his face.

The barn seems quieter now, the walkers’ snarls muffled compared to the buzzing tension in the group. Shane stands dumbfounded, but there's anger and disbelief rising behind his eyes as he takes you in.

You feel a hand on your shoulder from behind you—gentle, trying to ground you—but you shove it off and turn on your heel, storming away toward the camp.

જ⁀➴

Later, you’re at the campfire, your temper still simmering like the embers in front of you. You hold a stick of spam over the flame, your grip tense. Most of the others have scattered to chores or hushed conversations, but the sound of boots crunching on dirt draws your attention.

Daryl approaches, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "Hey," he mutters, his voice rough and low.

You grunt in greeting, not trusting yourself to speak yet without snapping.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The fire crackles between you, and Daryl shifts his weight, chewing on his bottom lip as he fiddles with an arrow in his hands. You steal a glance at him—his bruised face contemplative—and something softens in your chest. You hand't really gotten to know Daryl in the past few weeks you'd come to know the rest of them. He had a temper, much like you, and wasn't necessarily the most friendly of the bunch. He kept to himself, especially since his brother went missing and you didn't want to bother him, knowing how easily he could be set off these days. But there was something about him, you had to admit to yourself when you glanced at him now. He was handsome, under all the ruggedness and sweaty dirt-smudged skin. He had a tender heart too, and that was something that surprised you most when Sophia had first gone missing. He was the leader of every search party, spent almost every day out looking for her or coming up with plans, and you felt like he deserved so much more recognition than he got. The others chalked him up to a dirty, no good redneck. But you see more than that, especially now. He’s the only one who’s been fighting as hard as you for Sophia, and it feels like no one else recognizes it.

“Didn’t have t’ do that,” he says finally, his southern accent thick as he mumbles.

“Do what?” you ask, though you already know.

He shrugs one shoulder, his eyes still locked on the flames. “Smack ‘im like that. Standin’ up for me.”

You roll your eyes. “Shane pisses me off, that’s all. Asshole thinks he runs the place.”

Daryl nods faintly, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a smile. “Still,” he says, glancing at you briefly before looking away again. “Kinda hot.”

The words catch you completely off guard. Your cheeks heat instantly, and you finally turn to face him, blinking and startled. “Hot?” you repeat, your voice incredulous.

He doesn’t look at you, his mouth tugging into a sheepish smirk as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Ain’t no one ever done somethin’ like that for me before.”

You stare at him for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head as you look away. “You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, though a small, embarrassed smile tugs at your lips.

Daryl shrugs again, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Guess I owe ya."

“Nah,” you say, the grin lingering on your face despite yourself. “Just... keep doin’ what you’re doin’. That’s enough.”

He hesitates, looking down at the arrow in his hands before glancing back at you. “Come with me next time,” he offers, his voice softer now, like gravel under tires, “I’ll show ya how...to track n' all.”

Your smile widens, a shy warmth blooming between you as you nod. “Alright,” you agree, the tension easing into something lighter. 

He nods, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips as the two of you settle into a companionable silence by the fire.

🫣 I’m not sure how everyone feels about this but would you be open to making a Beth x Daryl smut ending to the scene when they were drinking together in the cabin ?

I'm sorry but I don't do character x character! Only x reader or character x reader x character

thinking about amnesia eric from season 4… he was so softtt

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

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.

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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Why is the "I accidentally took a sex drug and desperately need your help" plot so hot and why is there not something in real life

Cause how am I going to implement this in the walking dead universe they don't have potions or spells or mad scientists like resident evil? And how would I get Daryl of all people to be exposed to sex drug ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.1

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Summary: The little boy you patched up in the trailer park grows up, your paths finally aligning to bring you together. The man who was once only a rare source of comfort becomes your other half, only to pull back when you need him the most.

Notes: Based off of this post. Basically an angsty story detailing your relationship with Daryl and the group over the years, and when Daryl starts to grow distant from you.

Growing up was hard. Growing up without your loving father was even harder. 

You accepted the cigarette pressed in front of your lips from his hand and took a deep pull, holding it in your lungs until you felt your heart finally slow from its painful pace. He took his hand away from your face and took an equally long drag. 

“When's Merle getting out?” You asked as you absentmindedly scratched the dry blood off your fingernails, your nose still throbbing from your mother's fist. 

“Next week.” 

You were young then. God, way too young to be smoking cigarettes. Most kids your age stole them from their parents, bringing them into the eighth grade classrooms to sell or trade. 

Merle did come back the next week, but not for long. He eventually abandoned the two of you for the military, something his younger brother was really torn up about. After Merle left, said younger brother spent a lot of nights on your back porch couch. Your mother didn't mind, in reality she didn't give a shit at all, normally too high to care, or going through withdrawals so bad she only wanted to beat on you and blame you for your father's disappearance. 

You began to deeply miss Merle and the comfort he would bring, mostly in the form of alcohol or illegal substances. He'd always make you promise not to tell anyone, and you'd always say you weren't a fucking idiot. You were lucky you'd grown up on the same street as the Dixon brothers, it had inadvertently caused the older to view you as an estranged little sibling, sparing you from his foul advances. 

The Dixon brothers eventually became a rare sight. You all were just too busy with your own bullshit. You had a little brother to look after, and you did your best to shield him from your mother's antics, but one day the teacher saw that big bruise on his back and CPS took him away. You really missed Merle then, because at least he had the decency to sell you drugs instead of asking to trade for sexual favors. That made a substance induced escape a lot harder, forcing you to go into the city to find a decent dealer. 

You were sitting on your back porch crying with blood all over your face when you saw them again. 

They were frantic, tearing into your driveway with their dad's truck, shouting at you to get your shit and get in. Your mother was too doped up to understand what was happening, slumped on your dirty living room sofa with a bloody straw still on her lap. Merle had tried to get her to get up and come, shouting about ‘goddamn dead people eating everyone’(using a less kind word than people), but in your post-beating rage you left without her, leaving her on your couch to succumb to either an overdose, or whatever the hell the Dixons were warning her about. 

You begged Merle to go by the foster home to look for your brother. Begged, cried, and eventually screamed, and he screamed right back at you. Daryl barely managed to calm the two of you down with a hopeful explanation that the building that housed your brother was the safest place he could be. That didn't stop you from trying to steal their truck later that night though, which only ended up in another screaming match and a bloody spat with the undead. 

“Turn left here. Left, here!” 

“Well shit, give me more than a goddamn two second warning fucktard!” It was a wonder Merle hadn't lost his voice from the near constant shouting, at Daryl and you. This time it was the former, attempting at giving his brother directions to the safe zone in Atlanta, reading off a dirty crumpled map with text made for ants to read. 

You rubbed between your eyebrows and continued looking out your window as Merle turned around in the middle of the road to take the left into the highway. 

The sound of your name being called had you internally groaning. “Hey,” Merle snapped again, looking over at you in the passenger seat. “I said get my bag.”

You all but slung his plastic baggie into his lap. He took out a pill bottle with the label ripped off and fished out three pills, dropping them into his green pill grinder as he drove with his knees. 

“Just let me drive, man.” Daryl complained after having to correct the wheel for the elder brother. 

“Ay! Keep your stupid fucking hands off my wheel before you lose ‘em.” 

Most of the drive was like that. And it was even worse when after seeing Atlanta fucking napalmed. You were all close to losing it, and thankfully right before your Mexican standoff ensued, you found a group. 

You couldn't stand most of them. Most were too soft, too nice, too stupid or too weak. The strongest men were pieces of shit, and the men that weren't despicable were either weak or insane. Glenn didn't bother you too much, especially after you witnessed his weasel-like skills. He was like a roach, always surviving, even when a building fell on him. 

The majority of your time was spent hunting. 

The first day you went out with your recurve bow, which had once belonged to your father, Shane had questioned you. 

“You know how to use that thing?” He asked as he watched you flip your raggedy leather quiver over your shoulder.

You bent down to tie your boots and nodded. 

“You ever use one of those before?”

“Yes. You got a light?” 

Shane took a second before fishing out a lighter from his back pocket, moving intentionally slow as if to show you he was your superior. You snatched the green bic from his hand and lit your cigarette, shoving it back out towards him. 

“Dixons are already out hunting. Left this morning. Why don't you just stay here and help out? We could really use the hands. Women of the camp are sometimes more important-”

You walked off into the woods before he could continue. 

It was satisfying bringing your doe back to camp, even though dragging the thing back was a cruel and grueling process. You asked T-Dog and Ed to help you string it up, making sure to be as noisy as you could, a thick middle finger to Shane. You drained and gutted the carcass, making sure to ask Shane with a smug smile what he wanted to do with the intestines.

“Take it away from camp.” He spoke with his fingers a lot, rough pointing in an aggressive manner. “That shits gonna draw those things near.”

“Makes good bait for fish.”

Andrea and her sister Amy backed you up, even though they cringed and grimaced taking their share down to the quarry. 

Merle and Daryl had finally settled down after a while in camp. Merle wasn't seconds away from murder anymore, and Daryl found peace in his hunting. Eventually Glenn got you your own tent, which you were ecstatic about, no longer having to share one with the two men. 

Merle called your name through a mouthful of stewed deer meat. “Sweetie, hand me a beer why don't ya.” 

Lori looked up over her bowl. “Would it kill you to say please?”

You tossed the warm bottle to Merle, not acknowledging her attempt at sticking up for you. He didn't bother you, his insults or disrespect never did, growing up with someone like that sort of makes you blind to it, especially when you were used to so much worse from your mother. 

“Would it kill you to suck my nuts?” 

Shane stepped in and you groaned, rolling your eyes and taking your stew back to your tent. 

After Daryl's mother passed you saw him more and more. You were about eleven when it happened, you remembered the house fire and the day they moved into the trailer closer to yours. Daryl was almost constantly covered in bruises then. Always a black eye, always a purple bicep, always dried blood under his nails. He didn't smoke with you much after that, his mother having died from a cigarette induced house fire. That was when Merle had left, but your memory of the timeline was foggy. It had been so long ago and so much was constantly happening that you might've misremembered a lot of it. 

“Sleep good?” Your groggy voice caused Daryl to look up from his task of sharpening his knife.

“Nah. You?”

You yawned and sat next to him in front of the fire, stretching your sleepy limbs and taking a sip of his water. “Now that Merle's farting and snoring aren't waking me up every ten minutes, yes. Thought he would shit himself with how bad that tent stank.”

Daryl let out a knowing chuckle and tossed his whetstone in the open flap of his tent. He slipped his blade back in its holster on his belt before grabbing a crooked cigarette from his shirt pocket. 

“Fuckin' hate this place.” He muttered around the filter as he cupped his hand around the flame of his lighter. He snapped his zippo shut and put it back in his jeans pocket. “Me and Merle been talkin’.”

“About what?” You began crunching on a handful of almonds you stole from Lori the night prior. 

“These people, they're… they're fuckin’ idiots.” He sighed as he blew out a stream of smoke, waving his hand around for enunciation. He held it to your lips for you to take a drag, watching as you pulled in a lungful before he took it away. “We should just leave 'em. They probably want us gone anyway.”

You observed him, not responding, chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

“Well? You comin’?”

“Course I am. But I don't think we should leave.”

“Why the hell not? You hear the shit they say about us?” He scoffed, his brows furrowed. “Inbred hicks with their ‘trailer trash whore’. Y’know, they think we all fuck each other when we go off huntin’. Good for nothin' bastards. Should just rob ‘em and leave.”

“I don't give a shit what they think. I give a shit about my odds of survival, which are higher with guns.”

“We got guns. N’we can jus’ take theirs.” He argued, referencing the duffle bag of stolen guns in the hidden compartment of their truck. “Besides, chances are we're safer on our own than these dumb shits, catching frogs with the kids in the damn quarry.” 

“Hey, I'll come if you leave. I couldn't care less about these people. But they keep that RV locked up real tight. It's gonna be a bitch to get into, especially with the rifleman wannabe on top and his gun slingin’ daughter, or whoever the fuck she is to him. Shane's already watching us too much. Let's just wait a while till he stops following me around like I'm some sort of violent nutcase.”

You had unknowingly sealed the fate of many lives with your argument. 

“Gonna go in the city.” Merle said as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, jumping out of his truck bed, careful to not knock over his bike in the process. “Y'all need anything? Tampons?” 

“No.”

“Was askin’ Darlene.”

“Shut the hell up man.” Daryl grumbled and finished preparing his crossbow for his hunt. “An’ no, don't need a damn thing.”

“Get some SlimJims.” Your favorite low cost snack. Growing up in a trailer park gave you a superior taste in snacks, SlimJims and Funyuns being your favorite. 

“Why you want that when I got all the meat sticks you need sugar?” Merle laughed crudely, nearly bumping you over with a sloppy kiss goodbye to your cheek. You smirked and playfully pushed him off, watching as he left with the rest of the supply group. 

“C'mon. Let's go before all the damn squirrels get eaten.” Daryl put his crossbow on his back and you picked up your weapons before following him off into the woods. 

You had good luck that day. Daryl had a rope full of squirrels and you were tracking down a deer he'd sunk a few arrows into. 

“Not gonna need SlimJims no more.” Daryl breathed as the two of you crept silently through the woods, following the trail of bubbly blood. 

“As much as I love your roasted squirrel, it just doesn't have the same kick to it.”

“Never heard you complainin’.”

“Yeah, it's ‘cause I'm not a bitch.”

“You? Not a bitch?”

“Only to people who deserve a good bitchin’.”

“Seems like everyone these days needs a little of that.”

“Hah, yeah. We better get that deer before the dead do, Merle's gonna be hungry as fuck when he gets back.”

You didn't react when Rick Grimes told you he'd cuffed Merle to a roof. You didn't react when it was revealed T-Dog, one of the only people you liked in Shanes group, had dropped the key and left him up there. He'd profusely apologized and you just stared at him, doing everything in your power not to punch him in the throat. 

You did react when you saw Merle's hand on that roof, his body nowhere to be seen. You cursed and shoved Rick so hard he hit the metal side of the fire escape with a bang, and Daryl, eager to jump in, ran to your side with blazing eyes. If it wasn't for the other people there and the guns they held,  you would've killed him that day. Mauled him like the animal you were and left him there just as he did Merle. 

In the absence of his brother, you found Daryl had seemed to subliminally put you in his place, a figure to follow and learn from. Not that you had too much to teach him, but knowing you were the eldest sibling in your family had you fitting into place with him perfectly. 

You guessed you could call Daryl your friend now. You never had many friends, only in elementary school, sticking to yourself most of the time. The kid going to school smelling like cigarettes with the same clothes they wore the day before was never a popular choice for companionship. You never minded it though. The abuse you suffered at the hands of your mother had turned you into a cold and calloused human. Daryl was simply an object of mutual benefit for you back then, a source of company, cigarettes, alcohol. Whatever he could get his hands on. And he was easier to relate to than Merle, who had a good ten years on you. 

But now, he was the only person you had left. Your mother was gone, your precious baby brother God knows where, and your male mentor was still missing, out there with one hand, his state of existence unknown to you. He was most likely dead. Shane's group had quickly become “Rick's group”, and you still held no fondness for any of them. Andrea had formed an odd one sided relationship with you, she craved your status. The group saw you as on level with the men, you never needed gun training like the rest of them, you got to keep your own gun, and no one ever tried to prevent you from doing something you wanted to do. 

It was clear though, none of them really liked you all that much. They treated you like more of an outsider than they had Merle. You couldn't blame them, you wouldn't like someone like you. You were a mean and cold bitch, always keeping to yourself and only viewing them as a transactional business. They provided safety in numbers and you provided fresh kill and a gun. 

One of the only times you behaved like a friendly human being was when you arrived at the CDC. It was hard to recognize you after you showered and cleaned up, washed your clothes and didn't smell like cigarettes or blood anymore. While your clothes were washing you had to borrow some from the former employees, a deep purple sweater and black slacks that somehow fit you perfectly. You caught Shane watching you walk down the hall, and you quickly responded with a snotty face of disgust. 

A stomach full of hot seasoned food and wine loosened you up a bit. You sat next to Daryl and smiled, even laughed a few times, much to the shock of the others. 

“C'mon, one more glass.” Daryl grinned as he filled your cup with more wine before you could object. “Don't be a baby.” 

“Sure thing Darlene.” You snorted as you took a sip, earning an eye roll and a scoff from Daryl. 

“Yeah, keep it up.” He feigned aggression as he downed his third glass. “Won't be so funny when you got teeth in your throat.”

“Not before I lose my boot up your ass.” 

The banter was refreshing. The trip out of the quarry had been exhausting. It felt like you were admitting to failure when you were forced to give up your search for Merle, and oftentimes you debated on stealing his bike out of the back of your truck and going back to find him. But there was always something stopping you, every single time. 

Sleeping on an actual mattress felt amazing. You'd offered to take the couch as a joke, and when Daryl made his way to the bed you dove into the sheets before he could plop down on it. 

“You really are a goddamn bitch.” He slurred and slung his bag at the foot of the couch, falling back dramatically.

“Drink some water before you get a hangover.” You tossed him a fresh bottle from the room fridge, and he begrudgingly downed it. You turned the light off and climbed into bed, groaning at the feeling of the soft and dry mattress.

“You think Merle’s alive?”

You blinked, opening your eyes and looking towards the couch. It was dark, you'd assumed he'd been asleep by then, there had been several long minutes of silence. 

“Yeah. I know he is.” You were surprised by his question. Daryl had always been the one reassuring you of Merle's status, claiming he was impossible to kill, and that he could feel in his bones that his brother was alive. It also made you a bit uncomfortable, you'd never comforted anyone before that wasn't your little brother. Let alone Daryl. The most you'd done for him was offer him sanctuary on your porch and cleaned his wounds if they were bad. 

“Go to sleep Daryl.” 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams (wasn't sure if you guys wanted to be tagged since its eventual smut but here u go)

@hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @10hrs26mn @adribarbie (those who asked to be tagged if someone wrote this in the original post)

Daryl’s Photographer

he pretends like he doesn’t see you taking pictures of him

(images from pinterest, not mine)

Stars in The Dark part 2?👀

Yes 🖐️ Send me more details on what you're imagining 👏

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut: Three-hour Drive in Two

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, cursing, overstimulation,

Summary: You call Daryl over the radio and tell him you're tired of the games, and want to finally have sex. Daryl drops everything he's doing to get to you. 

Notes: The idea of Daryl wanting to have sex with someone so badly that he literally just gets on his bike and rides hours to do it????? It's just so hot????

There was the sound of creaking, shuffling, paper or boxes. You're breathing louder, and closer to the mic, he could almost feel your warm breath tickling his ear if he closed his eyes. 

“I wanna talk to you.” A soft and breathy tone, it sent a freezing chill down his spine. He knew what that sound meant. 

He raised his eyes from his fingers in his lap, glancing around the room. No one was paying him any attention. Maggie still looking out the window, Glenn still upstairs, and Michonne digging around in the kitchen.

“Yeah?” He responded, his voice coming out much lower than he intended. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, and he could hear the same creaking sound. You were in a chair, moving around, restless, he could hear that now. “As hot as this is, what we've been doing…” 

You and Daryl had been playing this game for a few months. 

It started with caught glances, red cheeks, and then all of a sudden you were showing off for each other. Subtle, but obvious to anyone who'd caught sight of it. 

You would be walking around Alexandria in those Bobbie Brooks shorts you and Daryl loved. Daryl started dressing nicer, swapping those long sleeved shirts for his older cutoff button ups, his biceps as eye-catching as a big red circle, a handful of arrows lit up with little gold neon lights, blinking and flickering ‘hey, look at me, all for you, look, please’. 

Then came the flirting. Daryl was absolutely awful at it. You seemed like a professional compared to him, with your bedroom eyes and lip biting, that sweet sly grin you'd have after teasing him. 

Daryl started with what made him hard when he'd catch you'd do it, which was staring shamelessly. He'd go out of his way to check out your ass when you'd walk in the other direction and give a simple smile when you'd look over your shoulder and catch him. 

You always looked to see if he looked, and he always did. 

“Daryl?” 

He cleared his throat, blinking away the memory of your ass in those sinful jean shorts. He turned down the volume on his radio and raised it closer to his face. “Hmm. M’here.”

“How fast do you think you can get back?” 

The question and what it alluded to had his dick twitching in his jeans. “Three hours.” He answered immediately, avoiding the curious look Maggie gave him from across the room.

“Think anyone's on this channel?” The sound of you humming was accompanied by footsteps, boots against the hardwood floor of your house. 

“Shouldn't be.” He muttered, picking up his gun and bag and making his way to the front door. 

“Everything okay?” Maggie asked, watching Daryl as she kept a lookout through the downstairs windows. They were on a supply run, going further out than usual, most places near Alexandria had been wiped clean. 

“Yeah. S'fine. Got somethin’ to take care of. How much longer y'all gonna be?” Daryl slipped his shoulder through the strap on his crossbow, his radio still clutched tightly in his other hand.

“Gonna check a few other houses down this road, then the factory.” Maggie nodded. “We'll be back before sunset.”

Daryl offered a returned nod, unable to meet her eyes, the excitement of knowing he was about to have his dick in you making him jumpy. 

He thought he was gonna have to be the one to ask, you'd always seemed so composed and patient, content with blue balling him and leaving your panties in his room. 

“Be safe.” She called out after him as he walked down the concrete pathway, and he raised a hand in acknowledgment.

“You still there?” Even though he turned down the volume he could still hear you over the sound of his heavy boots over the concrete, and he raised his radio back to his face. 

“Yeah. M’on my way.” He couldn't remember a time he'd felt so excited about something. No fear, no anxiety, no dread, just heart hammering anticipation. 

His mouth watered as he fished out the keys to his bike from his pocket. 

“Don't get a speeding ticket.” 

Daryl chuckled, and got on his bike. 

If cops were still a thing, he'd get a lot more than a ticket for the way he drove back home. He and the others took three hours to get to that town from Alexandria, and he made it back there in two. He hadn't had a ride like that since he was young, maybe back at the Greene farm or in Atlanta. He drove like he had a helmet, hell, like he had a full suit of armor, and gas was readily available at any of the gas stations he passed by. 

You were standing in your closest when he finally tried to reach you.  Standing completely still, biting your bottom lip to keep from giggling. 

“Where?” You had to turn down the volume to keep from being found. 

“You gotta find me.” You breathed, your cheeks aching from the smile on your face. He'd come through your room twice already, the second time confused, and now he was no doubt checking his room. 

“Gotta find you?” He repeated, the image of his bewildered face was easy to imagine. 

“Mhm. See if you can find me before I come.” You whispered, your smile fading the lower your hand slipped down the front of your shorts. 

“Oh, shit.” You mumbled. Your fingertips grazed against your clit, finding that you were already soaking. You hadn't touched yourself before then, but it felt like you'd been going at it for hours. 

Daryl's muffled grunt came through the radio, either annoyance or something else. Maybe hearing you make those noises was enough to get him hard. You didn't know he'd been hard off and on since he got on his bike. 

“I don't, I don't think you've got a lot of time-”

Heavy boots sounded coming up the stairs again, quicker than your racing heartbeat. The sound sent a bolt of excitement through your chest, knowing he was ready to start flipping over tables just to find you, just to touch you. 

“Warmer.” You stifled your moan, moving your fingers quicker against your clit. He paused for a second, you could hear him at the end of the hall. He walked into Michonne's bedroom and you had to fight away the laugh that threatened to give you away. 

“Cold.”

His footsteps echoed down the hall as he came back to your room once again. You held your breath and slowed your movements, watching through the cracks in the closet door. 

God, the sight of him standing in your doorway looking for you was enough to come to. He looked so… dedicated, fueled by the motivation to get you in his hands and make you regret teasing him like that.

“Hot.” Your voice was barely a whisper as you watched, your wide eyes illuminated by the daylight through the lines in the door. He walked into your room, looking under the bed, getting on his knees. 

He stood, flicking his head to get the hair from his face. 

He flipped the comforter of your bed and it almost made you giggle that he thought you could somehow be hiding under it. 

Your heart stopped when he turned his head to look at the closet door. The only other place you could be.

His boots sounded like they were weighed down with bricks as he approached the door, each step sending your heart racing faster and faster. You pulled your hands from your shorts and unbuttoned them, the sound making him let out the scoff of a man very pleased with himself. 

You turned off the radio as he slid the doors open, greeting you with a lopsided grin.

“I win.” His proclamation was almost innocent, proud of himself and eager to make his accomplishment known. 

“Yeah.” Your fingers worked to unbuckle his belt as you grinned up at him. “What happened to three hours?”

“Light traffic.” 

You laughed as he went back to shut and lock your door, turning on your speaker in the process.  He didn't want to risk anyone hearing the sounds he intended on dragging out of you, and ruining the moment. It was a sweet gesture. 

He was back in front of you in a few short seconds to continue the game of undressing each other, something that could've been done quicker if you just did it to yourselves. That would be a lot less fun. 

His hands on your face caught you off guard. Gentle fingertips graced your lips, the scent of hand soap filling your nose, and you smiled. He'd washed his fucking hands. 

“God.” You shook your head in disbelief, unzipping his pants as you slowly walked him backwards to your bed. “You're something else.”

He snorted, slipping his thumb between your lips. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. You washed your hands.” 

“Course I did.” 

He sat down on the bottom of your bed, his hands moving from your face to slide down your sides, resting at your hips. “Been wantin’ to feel you inside. Ain't gonna do that with dirt and blood on my fingers.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, from his words and the feel of said hands tugging your shorts down your thighs. “Somethin’ else.” You repeated. 

Although Daryl looked absolutely breathtaking covered in blood, you were grateful he'd been so thoughtful. UTIs in the apocalypse were no joke. 

You worked on the buttons of your shirt as he pushed his pants down, and you'd be lying if the sight of him pulling his cock out didn't make you swoon.

His hands were clean, but he still looked like he'd been through hell and back. He was sweaty, his biceps gleaming, the crevices of his muscles made darker from the dirt and whatever else he'd been rolling in out there. His hair messy and ruffled from driving god knows how fast on that motorcycle. 

The feeling of his hot breath on your bare stomach had you sniffing in surprise. You opened your eyes and looked down, letting out a soft whimper at the sight of the top of his head. He planted a kiss between your ribs, keeping his hands on your sides to keep you steady as he worked his way down your stomach, every other kiss his tongue would slip out of his lips and trace deep circles in your skin. 

You watched him bury his face in the front of your panties, nuzzling his nose against the fabric before breathing in like he was smelling flowers. You couldn't help but grin at the comparison, your fingers now in his hair and brushing the tangles out. 

“Smell-” he muttered through kisses to the fabric, “-so good.” He kissed up to the waistband, moving from the front to the side where your hip bones sat. He opened his mouth and bit down, his teeth grinding your skin between them, causing you to let out a rather loud whine of surprise. 

“C'mere.” He didn't wait for you to respond or even acknowledge him before grabbing hold of your ass in his hands, lifting you and bringing you into his lap. 

Being manhandled like that was another thing that drove you crazy. You whimpered and shifted in his lap, sucking in a sharp breath when you felt his heavy cock brushing against the crotch of your panties. 

He groaned, the sound muffled from the way he grits his teeth. He must've been caught off guard by how embarrassingly wet you were, he could feel all of it against his bare dick. Warm and wet, fabric catching and grinding on his length, he had to focus on his breathing to avoid coming right there and then. 

“Here.” He muttered, his fingers looping in the sides of your panties and urging you to maneuver your legs so he could pull them off of you. Once he did he shuddered, the breath vibrating in his chest. 

The sight of you, wet and on partial display, sitting right on his dick, it could've killed him. He pulled himself together and moved his hands between your thighs, wasting no time in touching you like he'd dreamed of for months. 

“Hmm.” He grunted, his jaw visibly flexing from how hard he was clenching down. 

You could barely keep your eyes open. It was a lot. He moved his fingers the same way they felt, rough and forceful. He tried to be smart, circling your clit, lightly pinching it, but he lost his patience fairly quickly and began moving all four of his fingers in flat circles over your entire pussy. 

“Mmmm, god.” You shuddered, grabbing onto his shoulders which felt massive under your hands. He was being sloppy and impatient, but god it felt amazing. He was enjoying touching you like this almost as much as you were receiving it. 

He looked up at you and you lost it. Seeing those eyes on your face had you gasping, trembling, your thighs trying to close around his hand but his waist prevented it. You forced yourself to look at him, your eyes flickering from his eyes, wide and attentive, doing the same thing yours were, to his parted lips. His fingers were relentless on your slippery cunt, growing more rough and fast, sliding over your clit and quickly overstimulating you. 

You tried to crawl off of him and get away from his hands, but he kept you in place with his free hand and dipped a slick finger inside you. 

“Nn-” you gasped, your hips jerking in his lap. He held you tight against him, his finger too thick and too hot, it was too much, you tossed your head back and whined like you'd been stabbed. 

“Fuck.” Daryl whispered, his eyes still on your face, filled with awe at the sight in front of him. His dick twitched under you and his hand, precum oozing from the slit in his tip. Your cheeks looked like you'd been slapped, red and hot, and tears beaded at the corners of your wet eyes, which couldn't decide if they wanted to stay closed or look back at him in something akin to horror. 

He curled his finger, a simple experiment, and the way your hips ground down against him led him to continue, his middle finger digging deeper and deeper inside you, curling and twisting until you actually begged him to stop. His thumb rubbing quick and deep circles against your clit was more intense than anything you could ever dream of doing to yourself.

“Stop, s’too much.” You slurred, pushing on his shoulders. 

“Alright, alright, shh.” He cooed, drawing his fingers from between your legs and wiping them against your trembling lips.

“Gonna,” you shivered against his chest, fighting to catch your breath. “Gonna show you what that's like.” 

He grinned and nodded. 

Once you gave him the nod to continue, he grabbed onto your waist and laid you down on your back. The cool air felt amazing against your throbbing cunt, but that relief was soon replaced by Daryl's hot mouth. 

“Oh, god, Daryl, wait.” You laughed, a mix of nervousness and excitement. If he was as sloppy and eager as he was with his fingers then you'd be in for the filthiest oral of your life. 

“Shh, c'mon.” He breathed, his breath tickling your clit. “Lemme taste.” His eyes flicked up to you and chills ran down your entire body. “Jus' a taste.”

You breathed, looking down at him over your torso. The image of him between your thighs had a tired smile spreading on your lips and you nodded, earning a wicked grin from Daryl. He was a whore for winning, that was for sure.

He lowered his mouth back on you, keeping his eyes on your face as he tried different movements. His gaze had you fucking stunlocked. You couldn't look away, couldn't close your eyes or move from your position, propped up on your elbows, watching him watch you. 

You were right, he was just as primal as he was with his fingers. He licked you like you were the inside of a chip bag, digging his tongue into every crevice and fold, determined on making you cum on his lips.

He was doing a damn good job at it. 

You groaned and took in a trembling breath. Your eyelids grew heavy and it became hard to watch him. 

“Oh my god.” You wailed weakly. Your thighs started twitching, bumping against the sides of his head. You tried to sit still, but your orgasm came and your hips took on a life of their own, bucking and grinding up against his fervid mouth. 

He grunted, grinding his own hips into the mattress. He panted as he watched you cum, having lost his breath giving you the best head of your fucking life. 

“Like the way you do that.” He crawled up your body, leaving wet kisses up your torso, giving special attention to the nipples he neglected earlier. “Never seen somethin' like that b‘fore.” 

You moaned in response, grabbing his hair. Your heart was breaking a goddamn record, it had to be, it never raced like this even when running from walkers in the woods. 

He took a nipple between his teeth, rolling and biting the same way he bit your hip. You whimpered and gasped, trying to regain your bearings, but he made it so, so hard. Especially when he tortured your nipples like he was trying to pierce them with his teeth. 

“Never thought you'd be so…” You were cut off with a yelp when your other nipple was pinched, making you suddenly extremely grateful that he didn't pinch your clit like that. 

“What?” He muttered, his teeth still clamped around your nipple, and rolled his hips against you. His bare dick pushed through your folds, quickly becoming soaked. 

You groaned, low and deep. 

“Aggressive.” You finished. 

“Wan’ me to stop?” He pulled his mouth off of you momentarily, now looking down at your poor messy face. It made him feel proud, knowing he was the reason you looked like such a mess. Hair already wild and frazzled, eyes still wet and cheeks even darker in color. 

“I can be gentle.” He drawled with a sick grin, and ground his pelvis into you again. 

Another groan dragged through your raw throat. “Nnn, no.” 

He snorted, and snaked his hand down between your bodies. 

You drew in a deep breath. You felt the tip of him drag through your folds again, just as much of a tease as his voice, up to your raw clit and your aching hole. 

Now Daryl was the one shuddering against you. You could hear his teeth grinding together as he lined himself up with you, his shoulders heaving above you, and finally, he pushed in. 

He was too rushed and too forceful, so his head just slipped back up your folds and drove against your clit. You whimpered at the sharp tingles, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth to muffle the noises.

Daryl muttered a curse and lined himself up again, learning from his mistake, and pushed in slower. 

Your body trembled. Your back arched, your jaw dropped, and your eyes rolled back into your head. It was indescribable. He was so thick and you were so sensitive, one would think all the foreplay would've made it easy for him to slip inside, but your walls pushed against him in desperate protest. You tried to relax but it was all so much, your cunt was spent and fought against you and his dick.

He won, again, and bottomed out in the first thrust. 

The sounds that left both of your mouths were ten times better than any song your stereo could play. Daryl choked on a gasp, the sweet sound melting into your name. 

You could've sobbed. You almost did, your moan bubbling against your lips, low and whiny. 

Again your name was whimpered, and you responded with a strangled whimper of your own, your fists curled around his leather vest with all the strength left in your hands. 

You could tell he was trying his best to treat you right after the torture he put you through, dragging his dick out slow and gentle, but each time he pushed back into you his exhale came out ragged and raw. 

It was funny, how you were begging him to ease up on you earlier but now you were about to beg him to fuck you until you couldn't breathe. You supposed that's what your body wanted the entire time, his mouth and fingers were amazing, but your greedy walls wanted his cock more than anything. 

“More, Daryl, please-” 

You barely got the words out before he was obliging, snapping his hips forward like he'd been waiting for your permission. The blunt force of the thrust knocked a crude moan from you. 

You got what you wanted, he started fucking you until you literally couldn't breathe. His chest had fallen against yours, and his arms slipped under your back to hold you tight against him. 

He buried his face in your neck, his teeth and lips making the skin there wet and red. It was incredibly hot how much he enjoyed biting, it was so animalistic and primal, something he didn't think too deeply into before doing it. It wasn't that he wanted to mark you, claim you, he just wanted to bite, bite, and bite. 

The way your moans changed to sobs of ecstasy sent a jolt of pleasure through his dick. With a deep growl, he pulled your hips up hard, pelvis rolling down to meet you with a swift and forceful motion, sending a surge of pleasure through your walls and lower stomach. 

You moaned something, a mix of about seven different words, your core fluttering and flipping each time he rammed his hips into you, forcing his dick as deep as possible. 

He clamped his teeth around the skin where neck meets shoulder, another way to keep you in place, as if his arms and legs weren't doing a good enough job. He'd twisted his legs around your ankles, something you couldn't picture or comprehend, but your feet were rendered immobile by his thighs and it was sexy enough for you not to question it. 

“Fuck!” He growled, slamming his pelvis into you hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. 

“God oh, hnn-Daryl!” You whimpered with your eyes squeezed shut. He was hammering into you like you were paying a goddamn debt, knocking your headboard into the wall so hard you were sure Carol or Rick would burst in with their guns drawn, thinking a walker had you fighting for your life. 

“Shit.” He choked, and came without any further warning, his hands moving from your back to grip your hips and yank you up on his cock. You cried out, wriggling your feet free from his legs to twist around his waist. 

He blurted your name into your neck, gasping and panting. He rolled his hips with quick and frantic movements, fucking his cum deep inside you. He ground down into you until his body shook, and then his muscles relaxed. 

“Turn over.” You breathed, and he did. 

He was expecting you to climb off, maybe fall down beside him and share the mutual blissful exhaustion. 

You kept his softening dick inside you as you settled on top of him, managing a weak smirk when you saw the sleepy confusion on his face.

Your hips rolled, and he whimpered.

You savored the way confusion bled to regret, his eyebrows relaxing and his lips parting. 

His hands grabbed onto your hips, wanting to hold you in place and prevent your walls from dragging up his sensitive dick, but he knew he deserved it. You told him you'd show him what it was like. 

“How's it feel, hmm.” You moved your hips back and forth in his lap, biting your lip at the many stages of guilt and pleasure that went through his sweaty face. 

He couldn't speak, so he just settled on a nod, his eyes falling closed as his throat bobbed with a dry swallow. 

You went on for another minute before you physically couldn't anymore. You gave one last roll of your hips, making sure to clench down on him, and lifted up until his dick was dragged out of you. 

“Goddamn.” He mumbled. 

It felt amazing to be empty and bare, it was enough to make you moan, your body falling to the side to lay next to him. The silence was welcome.

"Daryl?" You breathed, using the back of your hand to push your hair from your face.

"Hm?" The sound was gravelly and sleepy, he was clearly only seconds away from sleep.

"You ever drive like that again and I'll tell Carol."

"Not my fault ya' decided ya' wanted to fuck me now."

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami