While We Untangle

while we untangle

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader (implied Marc Spector x F!Reader) Wordcount: 2.9K Warnings: Explicit AF. SMUT. DID. Wounds. Oral. CUM eating. Sry. Summary: Things happen to Steven. He ends up with dates he doesn’t remember making. He finds his fridge full and fishes with two fins. There is an attractive woman inches from him and he should just shut up and take it as a sign from God or Gods. Whatever. A/N: wow i wrote this instead of working on wys because i hate myself. title from Rufus Du Sol's No Place. i know vague shiz about moon knight but this is my current headcanon of marc being aware of steven and steven just doing his best (lmao). idk if this is really spoilery.

Steven doesn’t quite recall when he started dating you. He does not remember how it happened. You just appear and he simply goes with it because you’re soft and warm and you call him by his name.

It’s a little like magic. He falls asleep and wakes up and you’re there.

“Hi,” you murmur by the side of his bed. His body is aching. His shoulder is screaming. He feels his bones bunching up against the thin shell of his skin.

“What?” He shakes his head. “Who-?”

Their first conversation (that he remembers) is just fragments of words. It is a series of cut-off questions.

Who? What? Where?

You lean forward so quickly he nearly misses it. A flash of your hair and your eyes glittering like fish scales in the blue dawn light. You touch his jaw and use your other hand to comb his sweat-damp curls back from his brow. He wants to say something because he feels naked in front of you - this stranger in his sweats and one of his t-shirts.

Who are you? Who are you?

Instead, he says: “I’m sorry…I didn’t expect guests. I would have cleaned…”

He would have. He would have made an effort. You smile at him and that’s when he notices the gash at your hairline. The strange bruising along your collarbone.

“Did we…?” he finally asks because why else would a girl be in his apartment - at his bedside. Your lips quirk and you shake your head.

“I’m - do we know each other?”

He really shouldn’t press his luck. Things happen to Steven. He ends up with dates he doesn’t remember making. He finds his fridge full and fishes with two fins. There is an attractive woman inches from him and he should just shut up and take it as a sign from God or Gods. Whatever.

“In a way,” you hum as you stretch your arms above your head. Your joints crack and that cut on your forehead beads with blood. A few hours later, he will notice that it’s gone. He will notice that marks on you never last longer than a day.

“In a way?” he echoes. He is lost in this conversation just as he is lost in most conversations. Everyone seems about five feet ahead of him at all times.

“Yes - in a way, but,” You shoot your hand out and grasp his own tightly. He notices his palm is covered in raven-black grease and you don’t seem to mind. “I suppose we should meet formally.”

You tell him your name and he repeats it - rolls it around over his tongue like a smooth marble. His accent is thick and often too chewy in his mouth. He doesn’t know why he even uses the term “accent” because shouldn’t it just be his voice? His tone. His.

He feels like he’s trying to shove himself through a narrow hole. Nothing fits.

***

He starts waking up with you - coming to with you - in weird places. One time, he’s restocking mugs etched with incorrect hieroglyphics and the next thing he knows he’s coughing up blood on a rain-soaked street. It’s thundering. The clouds spiderweb with lightning. There’s the smell of wet leaves and garbage and a neon Exit sign is blinking above him.

“Marc! Help me out here.” You’re a few feet away punching the hell out of a man in back. There’s a splash of blood. It splatters over your nose and chin. You’re in this tight suit that shimmers grey-blue in the rain. Weird. When your eyes meet his, you suddenly grimace. Your expression flits between seemingly concerned and incredibly irritated.

“Who’s Marc?” He rubs his forehead. His teeth feel loose in his mouth. “Wait - where are we?”

Wait. Wait. Wait. He’s always colliding into a disaster or conflict before he can confirm what it is. Where - when - what -

“Fuck,” you growl and then the man you’re fighting socks you right in the temple. You stumble to your knees. Steven doesn’t really think - he doesn’t have to - he rushes forward in some hopeless attempt at protecting you and - well - everything goes black again.

***

He wakes to the tinkling music of a Carnival. He’s got his hands wrapped around a pole with chipped gold paint. There’s a thousand colors blurring into a mosaic of blues and pinks and purples and reds. Yellow as buttered popcorn. Green and copper as scarab beetles. He can taste sugar on his tongue. Cotton candy. His stomach aches.

He looks down and sees the white mane of a wood worse. It’s uncomfortable between his legs. He blinks. He shakes his head.

“You okay?”

He turns to find you sitting - riding - next to him. You’re straddling a unicorn, which oddly seems fitting since he’s about 67% certain you don’t exist. There’s an unreadable expression on your face. A strange transformation. You go from cheerful to anxious and he feels as if he has interrupted something. You bite your lip and reach for his hand. You thread your fingers together as the carousel picks up speed - as it circles and whirs like a cyclone.

That terrifying, obnoxious jingle of music.

“Hi Steven,” you tell him, which he doesn’t understand. Why are you greeting him when you’ve obviously been with him for a while. Are they on a date? This must be a date. Did he drink? He swears it was 4 PM last he checked, but the sky is black-navy. Violet and midnight.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters as he clings to the pole with one hand as you hold onto the other. He leans his too-hot temple against the wet-cold surface of it. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know what else to say.

***

His eyes flutter open and it’s day again. The midafternoon sun peeks through his heavy blinds. You’re sitting next to him - hunched over like a curled C. One of his heavy mythology books in your lap. You’re reading about Isis and Osiris and he wonders if all his pieces are scattered over the Earth. It would make sense. It would honestly be a relief. An explanation.

There’s a white bandage around your arm with old blood staining half of it. It’s practically brown. He sniffs a metallic tang in the air along with the harsh scent of antiseptic.

He lifts himself up gingerly. More soreness. More agony in his back and the constant headache that thumps at the center of his forehead. He leans into you out of reflex, his chest brushing your shoulder. He touches your arm - drags his finger down the bandage.

“I didn’t do that did I?” He can’t trust himself. He doesn’t know anything. He loses days and nights and you are the only constant in his life. The one unmoved variable.

You twist around to look at him. You’re visibly exhausted. He wonders when you sleep because he’s never seen you do it.

“No,” you assure him. They’re so close that your breath fans over his lower lip. They’re dating and they aren’t. “Dating” is the only word he has for it because he wakes up and you’re in his room or literally in his bed. Sometimes you haul him to a restaurant or coffee shop.

Eat, Steven. You’re very pale.

They’ve never kissed though. They’ve never done anything beyond you looping your arm through his as you take him around London. He hadn’t realized it until now, but every errand they go on has been for his benefit.

You need more shampoo. You need another jacket. You need to get your haircut. Do you want another fish so he has a friend?

You let him talk to you. You let him vomit his words all over you because he has no one else. His mum’s voicemail. His mirror. His mind. One minute, he’s spilling his guts to a living statue and the next he’s spilling his guts to you.

And you respond. You nod and agree or disagree or drop your chin into your hand and listen intently. You laugh when he says something he actually meant to be funny.

“You’re such a weirdo,” you tease in between sips of coffee. It makes his lungs expand to the point he can finally get a full breath in. He is wide awake.

He shifts on the bed. The springs squeak. His sheets are scratchy and he notices there are granules of sand in the folds of linen. Bloody hell and all that.

There’s a wrinkle between your brows as you watch him watch you. You don’t avert your gaze like so many others do when he makes them uncomfortable. He can’t help it. He forgets himself sometimes. You’re different. You meet his stare straight-on.

His voice is low and urgent when he finally asks: “Why do you take care of me?”

You suck your lower lip between your teeth. It turns a color and he has to stop himself from swiping it with his tongue - from digging his thumb into the flesh. “I promised someone I would.”

He should question that. Who?

You know who.

The voices have returned. Swelling and shivering at the back of his head. They distract him. Solid. Tempting.

You know her mouth. You’ve tasted it before just not as you. You’ve had her. You’ve felt her. She’s ours.

He doesn't know what to do. He’s aware of his own awkwardness. He’s aware that he often misses social cues even though a large part of him seems to understand them. He just can’t get there.

“Steven,” you whisper like a secret - like their secret - every fucking letter deliberate and compassionate.

He wants to feel this.

He surges forward and kisses you. His body does it before his brain even catches up. He grips the hinge of your jaw and crushes his mouth to yours. You squeak in surprise before relaxing - before allowing him to cradle your cheeks between his hands and continue.

It feels familiar.

His lips move against your lips. His tongue traces your tongue - teasing and caressing and it subtly changes from sweet and careful to frantic and dirty. Your hand is on his chest - right where his heart thumps. He scrapes his teeth over your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. He makes a demanding sound and pulls you closer.

He senses that he’s been at this threshold a thousand times previously. He has to move forward. He knows the steps. He needs to take you - plant himself inside you where he’d be safe. He’s been safe.

His hand palms the crown of your skull. He tilts your head to deepen the kiss. You respond gracefully - your own fingers now locked in his t-shirt. They trade kisses in his dusty room with all of his old books and white-noise sound machines and cheap cutlery. You sigh into his mouth - your breasts crushed against his chest. Your heart. His heart. Pound for pound. Sharing a rhythm. How much would they weigh? The bandage on your arm chafes the inside of his bicep.

You shiver and it surprises him - the fact that he’s capable of arousing such a sensation out of you. He wants to go further.

He wedges himself between your legs. He doesn’t know entirely what he’s doing and yet he does. He’s had to have done something like this before. Maybe, at school. His twenties? He should know though no distinctive memories come to mind. No images of teenage lust in a backseat or fumblings in a dark theater.

Still - he appears to be getting it. Gestures before thoughts. It’s like the act itself is already written on his bones - taped somewhere in his mind with instruction.

At some point, they get naked.

You are spread out on his pillows and he uses his hands to open your thighs. He watches your cunt - shiny and pretty in the afternoon light. There are bruises on your hips - along your ribs. He wants to ask, but doesn’t.

You already know, Steven. You saw her get them last night. Fighting. You have some too.

That voice that’s like his voice, but not.

He slips his fingers against the seam of your folds - nudging between them and watching the effect it has on you. He thrusts to the knuckle before twisting his hand so he can press his thumb to the peak of your sex. You’re so wet and hot and each jerk of his fingers makes you tighter. The repetitive clench of your walls as he eases you through it. The push of slick more erotic than anything he’s ever even dreamt of.

“Oh,” you moan softly. “Oh - shit.”

“I-I think - is that alright?” he stammers - his chest tight - his cock so hard that it juts against his stomach.

You nod furiously. You open your arms to him - come come come - be with me. He goes - capturing your mouth - tongue warm as it slides over yours in a desperate, messy tangle. Your hand circles his cock, grasping him tenderly. You stroke him slow as he fucks into your palm. He kisses you. He kisses your throat - your breasts - your cheeks. You lead him - let him in - and then the head of his cock is rubbing right up against your pussy. It’s furiously hot - making slick sounds as it slips through the seam of swollen flesh.

You stare up at him, lips twitching and kiss-bruised. He keeps his eyes fastened to your face as he sinks in too quickly. You stretch around him - nails digging into his shoulders. Your mouth parting. Oh - it’s like this.

You feel like home. You feel like him. He knows this. He knows the wet clutch of your sex around him. Vice-like. Murderous. He rocks down and you glide with him. He draws back until he’s nearly out of you before snapping forward - punching a moan from your lungs. A push and pull. He tilts his hips and you follow - knowing the ebb and flow of his movements like you’ve done this before. You fist a hand into his curls as you nip his jaw. There is the loud liquid suck of your body greedily accepting his cock again and again. It’s so crude that he can’t quite believe it.

“Steven - fuck,” and now he is acting without thought. He is allowing the insides of himself to take over. It’s like a dance that he is watching from a step away, but oh he feels every second of it. He savors the soaked clasp of your cunt. The smell of your sweat and your hair and your lush skin as it slaps against his.

You shove him away and he groans as he rears back on his heels. His pleasure is dismantled. It is interrupted. You rise up on your knees and kiss him hungrily - nearly swallowing his tongue before you turn around. You get on all fours - your grip taut around the bed frame. His gaze traces the lines of your body - the curve of your ass that hitches into his hip bones and fitting snug.

You know what to do. You’ve done it before. Our girl likes it like this.

Ours. Ours. Ours.

That voice unbearably deep and vibrating with power. It’s like heartburn in his chest - bubbling up his throat.

This is for you, Steven. Trust us. Trust us.

He takes himself in hand and guides it back into your spread, dripping cunt. He bottoms out and you respond beautifully - a fragile wisp of a sob as you blossom around the length of him. You bury your forehead into his pillow. You bite the blanket.

Steven has never been able to keep quiet, but now he is out of words. He grunts low, rumbling noises and sometimes: oh god - fuck - so good -

He hopes that it’s enough for you to realize that this is everything he’s ever wanted. This true connection when he’s always felt like he’s living behind glass. He’s grateful.

He reaches around to pluck at your clit - something he wouldn’t have known to do or hadn’t done before and yet he does. It’s imprinted. The second he touches the swollen nub of it, you seize up like you’ve been electrocuted - pleasure ringing through your veins and limbs and he meets it by grinding deeper into you and there are filthy words flying from your lips in heaving, breathless whimpers and Steven blushes bright red because he can’t quite believe he’s done this with you - even as his cock spits inside you - even as he fills you to the brim without wasting a drop. When he eases himself out, there is his own pearly seed sliding down the backs of your thighs. It seeps between your swollen folds, dripping onto his comforter, which he will never wash again -

He touches it with his fingers - mesmerized. The voice in his head is throaty and smug: do it, Steven. I know you want to. She’ll love it.

He listens. He flips you onto your back - mouthing at your throat and tits before he travels downward. He forces your knees apart and buries his face between your legs - lapping and sucking and devouring what he has done to you. You arch up - hips jerking against his face. His nose hooked enough to deliberately scrape against your clit as he licks from your fucked-open pussy.

You cry out, yanking at his curls until it stings and he’s sure he’s missing patches of hair. He won’t let up. He latches and remains there - his hands now under your ass as he lifts the bowl of your pelvis up - like a platter - like an offering to the Gods - overflowing with nectar - a ritual -

He’ll repeat it. Day in and day out. He will perform this.

His skin burns with arousal. A fever. You know it’s him doing what he’s doing as he feasts - as he suckles his own come from your sex. He does not know this and yet he does. Another lifetime perhaps. Another yesterday. All of his memories are wrapped in plastic and yellowed with age. Opaque. Potentially not his. But this is clear. This he is sure to remember.

He knows. He knows. He knows this and there aren’t any lost hours between them. It is one long day and one long night of this tryst where he doesn’t wake up with a broken jaw or bleeding gums. He does not question your presence or why his fish die or why you care enough to keep him alive when no one else seems to notice him. He’s Steven and you call him by that name.

POKER

Steven Grant x Reader x Marc Spector

word count: 3.7k

genre: angst, dark-ish themes, fluff, suggestive themes

warnings: implied smut, angst, mentions of stalking, everyone just being a mess, especially marc, obsessive behavior

summary: Your relationship with Steven is constantly strained by the presence of Marc's disdain for you.

author’s note: I tried to be careful to be conscious of the presence of DID on this property, but if I wrote anything that is offensive or ignorant, please please please let me know.

The restaurant’s staff did a poor job at masking that they were sending you looks of pity every so often. Much like you, they were wondering when you were going to give up and shamefully admit that you had been stood up. You twiddled with your freshly polished fingers and checked your phone often as you nibbled on cold appetizers. It kept you busy since you had already tried calling thirteen times. Yet, it took the tenth couple eyeing you with concern on their way out for the embarrassment to finally make a bed under your skin. You ordered the first thing you could pronounce, and afterward, left the restaurant gripping your to-go plate as you looked at your phone one last time.

This experience wasn’t new, but you were already tired of having to find a restaurant that hadn’t seen what you looked like when you were in denial. It’s not like Steven didn’t want to come. It was the fact that he and Marc’s schedule clashed, and you were always at the receiving end of Marc’s negligence—you considered it forgetfulness to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Your journey home was entirely suffocated by unrelenting silence until you went walking into the elevator of your building just to see Marc there, looking just as tired as you were. He saw you coming from where he stood, but no matter how many times his fingers pressed the button, the elevator kept them open as a punishment. He was forced to witness the way your body clung to the dress you wore and how the ends of the skirt grazed over your smooth skin to mock him.

“Hi, Marc,” you said. You could tell by the way he clenched his jaw that it wasn’t Steven.

“Hi.”

The ride up had never been so long and you weren’t sure how to bring it up until you just spoke. “Hey, um, could you let Steven know he missed our date? I’m not sure if he tells you about them—”

“Yeah, something came up for me.” He hadn’t noticed, but his shoulders were tight as he kept his attention forward until the doors opened.

You followed after him with your shoes following the path he made and finally noticed how he held his side on his way to his flat. “Are you okay? Do you want me to—”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” you murmured.

Your first mistake was thinking you could put your warm hand on his chilling, broad shoulders and not cause him to nearly leap out of his own body. You had touched Steven countless times. However, it was the first time Marc had ever gotten a sense of what it felt like for himself.

Still, he didn’t wish to savor it in the slightest. “Pretending to worry is what you do with Steven. Not me.” He recoiled from the heat so harshly that he was already at his door and into his humble home before you could take your keys out.

Marc never got to see the way your face fell or how you clutched your keychain and shoved the metal key into your door. You disappeared into your home, begging your tears to give you time to close the door before they got it all over your dress. All this was while Marc was eyeing a photo of you by the fish tank that you had given to Steven while he took off his shoes.

As he pretended to look over persimmons, Marc watched you from a distance as your soft lips mouthed the lyrics of a song while your fingers glided over the peaches. You made it too easy sometimes and for that, he was thankful. He could spend his weekend researching—that was the word he liked to use— while you were unaware.

You glided through the other aisles, and he was careful to keep his head low and stay a few steps behind you while watching the way you smiled at a store employee while asking a question. Your shining teeth made him frown even deeper as he gripped his shopping cart.

His frustration kept on building throughout the day as he watched you carry through your laundry list of errands. Everywhere you went, he was a step behind with enough distance to go unannounced but close enough to slip your wallet back into your tote bag while you left it in your cart to have a look at some home décor. You really should have been more cautious of pick pocketers.

Landing a punch to a stranger wasn’t how he liked to spend his Sundays. Neither was lying on his bed while you were showering at home. The cardigan you had left with Steven on accident was under his nose as he brought the fragrance into his lungs. He had your Sunday schedule memorized to a point where he was used to the feeling of wanting to resist snaking his hands into his tight pants as he thought about how your hands were rubbing your thighs while he was playing with a Rubik’s Cube. For Marc, hell was Sunday afternoons at 3 PM.

For you, hell was the bus ride home looking at your phone and all the piling missed calls and texts from Steven? You deliberately avoided opening the voicemails and the messages in hopes that you’d have more time to think about what you wanted to do. Your plan was to speak to him on Monday when you felt better, or at least when you could fake it better.

Your walk to the elevator was less eventful than the day prior, but that didn’t keep you from reliving the day before, especially when you saw Steven sitting crisscrossed next to your door while he read a book with a sand-colored cover. You would have ignored him while playing Marc’s words on repeat if he hadn’t met you at your door.

“Hey, Steven.” You were hoping to keep it short and sweet so you could send him on his way gently with a promise that you’d talk to him when you weren’t so fatigued.

“Hey.” He was already rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants with the book abandoned on the floor as he got up. “I tried to call you but—is your phone okay?” You were always so good at answering your phone. “Sorry,” he shook his head. “Sorry. I mean, ‘are you okay?’”

“I couldn’t answer, Steven. I was at work, sorry.”

You didn’t usually work on Saturdays, but that was the least of Steven’s concerns. “B-But what about dinner? We said we’d meet each other there. And I went—And I went and you weren’t there.” He was doing that thing where he was speaking much too fast to figure it out himself and in any other circumstance you would have thought it was endearing, but the crack of his voice nearly pressed your heart so hard it would have stopped beating.

“Yeah,” you let out a sigh while you dug through your purse to find your keys. “I went yesterday and didn’t see you. I figured Marc lost track of time or something.”

“Today’s not Saturday, is it?” he asked while he licked his lips anxiously.

You were pleased that fishing for your key gave you a distraction, since you couldn’t bear to see his face fall again while he experienced a crushing realization that he had already gone through two times before.

“I’m afraid it’s not,” you looked up at him with an evident crease between your brows.. “I’m sorry you were there alone. Marc didn’t leave you a sticky note by the tank telling you?”

“No-no, no, he didn’t.” He looked back at his apartment at the end of the hall like he could see through walls. “At least, I don’t think so.”

You bitterly laughed to yourself to shrug off the hurt that was making room for itself in your pensive thoughts. “I don’t think he likes me very much.” What you said out loud was really meant for yourself.

“No, no, that can’t be—He likes you.”

“Steven, don’t lie to me,” you tried to keep your tone light hearted, but your façade was slipping.

“I’m not.” His wide eyes were becoming glassy, and his lips tightened into a line as he tried to fix the damage. “I swear.”

You nodded while unlocking the door. “I’m gonna head in, okay? I’m a little tired.”

“Wait,” he took your hand and made you notice how his clammy arms were desperately shaking. “I’m sorry.”

Steven saw the way your face relaxed, and the corner of your lift lifted lightly for a moment. He watched you come close to then give him an electric kiss on his cheek that made his ears too hot for comfort.

“Please, get some sleep tonight.” You watched him close his eyes as he felt your hands hold his visage tenderly. Your thumbs carefully moved back and forth over his cheek. “You look pale.” You examined his face as you saw his frown deepen and chose to ignore it. “And tell Marc to take it easy.”

“Why do I get the weird feeling you don’t want to do this anymore? Like be with me. It’s on your face. Are you upset with me? I get it if you want to go into your flat and avoid me for the rest of your life—”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that. Just give me some time to sort this all out mentally first.” You were referring to your thoughts as your finger slipped into his dark hair to calm him down, but it only sent a shudder pouring down his spine like cold water while his knees almost gave in.

“Is this a break? Or a breakup? Bloody hell, are we breaking up?—”

You gave him another kiss, but on his lips. Your warm skin was on his mouth while your hand fondly stroked his neck. It nearly caused him to become entirely lightheaded. His eyes were blown open the entire time from the moment he felt your kiss. You pulled away to get one last look at him.

“No, we’re not.” You placed your forehead onto his as you tried to have him matched your breathing. “I just want some time, maybe one or two days, to think. I’m telling you this because I enjoy being honest with you. Just give me some time to think over some things, okay?”

Steven nodded fervently at your words.

“Alright,” you smiled. His face got warmer. “See you later, gator.”

“Laters, gators,” he whispered as he felt your hand slip out of his.

If Steven could properly chew out Marc, he would, but instead he was stuck yelling at a mirror while a disinterested Marc was asking him to surrender his body so he could start off his soon-to-be long night.

“No, you don’t get to ask me that without answering me first!” Steven pointed.

“Good, God, Steven. Calm down.” Marc looked as uninterested as ever.

“You did this!” Now Steven was pacing. “I don’t get it. You have so many photos of her like a bloody creep,” he grabbed one of the many in the bathroom drawer to wave around. “But you’re the one giving her a hard time?” Steven never figured out what was said when he was gone, but with the way you spoke about Marc and the way Marc spoke about you, it didn’t take much afterward.

“What does this have to do with me not telling you that I made you miss your date?”

“Everything!” His fingers combed through his hair as he tried to imitate what you did to him to calm him down. “For once in my life, I got the courage to ask someone to date me and you’re pissing all over it. You’re just as obsessed with her, but you don’t want to admit it.”

Why would Marc want to admit? That would mean that he’d have to also confess to how sour he was about Steven getting to you first. It didn’t make sense. He was under the impression that he’d get you and Steven would just have to follow along, as always. So while he looked at you sleeping with the white noise machine on, he gripped the spare key of your flat that was meant for Steven. He had found a way to forcibly turn his jealousy into a lack of trust that you had good intentions with Steven.

What was supposed to be no more than two days thinking about your relationship and Marc’s choice words turned into a seven. You had been so consumed by Marc’s accusation that you stewed in your thoughts for so long that you feared seeing Steven in passing on your way to work. You rose early and returned home extremely late. All the while, Steven spent his days at the gift shop anxiously checking his phone while typing and deleting messages that he hoped to have enough courage to send.

This brought him back full circle on Sunday, knocking on your door. Your brief look through the peephole wasn’t enough to prepare you to see him again. When you opened the door, you were met with a nervously still Steven wearing a suit that he seemed to be drowning in.

He must have not expected you to actually answer the door because once he saw you were still in your work clothes, he panicked.

“Bollocks.” He quickly pulled out the card that you didn’t know he was holding. “I falafel about what happened.” His eyes followed the Hallmark card’s words. “I’m sorry.”

He practically shoved a bouquet of flowers into your hands when he nearly tripped over his shoes trying to hand it to you. Your bewildered expression must have frightened him even further, since he was already reaching into his bag to pull out a box of chocolate. Another small box fell out in the process as he fumbled to give you the heart-shaped chocolate box. In utter panic, he brought himself to his knees to pick it up, but he stayed on his knees to give it to you while you were trying to balance the things he had already given you.

“Wait-Wait, Steven, honey, are you trying to propose?” you asked calmly as you tried to mask your panic.

“W-What?” he looked up at you from where he was on his knees with his once combed hair now disheveled. “No-no!”

You nodded.

“Do you want me to?” he asked.

“Jesus, no,” you giggled.

“It’s just a pin of a scarab,” he said as he opened the box. “for your tote bag,” he whispered the last part as he placed the box in your hand.

“I can’t accept all this.”

“But I haven’t even given you the peaches, yet.”

“Steven,” you tried to hold back your laughter while you placed the gifts on your kitchen counter as he waited at the door with bated breath. You returned to him and decided to cut him some slack instead of refusing his gifts. “Thank you. I—”

He looked at the palm of his hand, at the poorly scribbled checklist he had made just in case he forgot something.

“Have dinner with me, please,” he asked. “It’s at my place. New Gus will be there too. Nothing too serious—unless you want it to be.”

You took his hand and stroked them as you tried to calm him down from what he no doubt had rehearsed many times over. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed, since you’re looking so dapper.”

“I hope this all didn’t cost too much,” you spoke as you looked at the giant stuffed crocodile in the corner. Steven was more focused on how your lips moved with red lipstick painted over them that he hadn’t heard a word that came out of your mouth. “Steven?”

“Yeah?” he was still frazzled.

“Please, don’t tell me that Donna took the stuffed animal out of your paycheck.”

“I won’t,” he nodded.

“Steven!”

“This is our apology to you.”

“Our?”

“I’m hoping Marc is going to apologize, too. Eventually…” he looked off into space briefly. “Honestly, whenever. I’m still kind of lost with how this works.”

“Have you fed New Gus?” He didn’t even notice how swiftly you changed the conversation.

“Oh, no.”

“Poor thing is watching us eat while you haven’t fed him,” you began walking to the tank to retrieve the fish food but when it wasn’t in sight, you were already heading toward Steven’s bed to get it off of his nightstand. By the time you returned, there was a silence that filled the room that made you uncomfortable as you fed Gus. You could feel a firm set of eyes that let you know that Marc was staring.

“Hey, Marc.” You tried to keep your voice level.

“Hey.”

You turned to see him eyeing the takeout food that you had spent twenty minutes assuring Steven was delicious.

“He told me you wanted to say something.” Even as you returned to your seat to face him, he still hadn’t said a word, and you knew he wouldn’t if you didn’t speak up.

“Yeah,” he was struck by your scent since your perfume was scrambling his thoughts until he went completely silent for much too long.

“Look, if it’s gonna kill you, it’s fine. You don’t have to be here. I’m sure Steven can keep me entertained for the rest of the night.” You couldn’t even stand to look at him, so you were already heading back to New Gus—you really needed to pick a better name for him. Steven and Marc’s hands were the same, yet when he took you by your wrist, he felt colder.

“Entertain?” he whispered with a sickly smirk.

“That’s not what I meant—Look if you’re setting out to make me the bad guy—”

“You’re making it really easy to.”

“You’re the one being difficult. All I’ve ever been is kind to you.” He was pushing you over the precipice.

"I don’t need your pity.”

Your weeks of frustration and denying he was likely keeping Steven away from the dinners you planned were pouring over the fire and causing billowing smoke. “Why don’t you fucking trust me like Steven does?”

“I just can’t seem to get why you accepted his advances so eagerly.” He hadn’t gotten as loud as you were, but he was so, so close.

“For starters,” you tore his grip from your wrist. “He’s much nicer.”

“I can be nice,” he said as he got closer. He didn’t sound sincere, but rather like he was being challenged. “I-I can be nicer… funnier, better.”

“Marc, what are you going on about?” your eyes feverishly danced over his face in confusion. “Can we just go back to how it was before?”

“Like when we were just neighbors and Steven was following you like some lap dog,” he hissed so strongly you felt the wind on your nose.

“No, when I’d drop first aid supplies and pretended not to see the photos you have of me on your mirror,” you spat.

You should have seen it coming when he had gotten so close with his towering stance. But when Marc kissed you, it sent you walking back to catch your balance, and you were stunned. It was enough to have you pull back to have a look at him to see if it was actually Steven. Yet he wasn’t. You could tell by the look in his eyes and by the way he went in for another kiss. His lips took over yours as you still were trying to catch your bearings and remedy your confusion. His teeth eventually moved from your mouth to your neck as he held your head about by his jaw.

Marc could hear the shake in your breaths as you gripped the sleeves of his suit and bunched the cotton fabric into your fist. His sloppy kisses littered your neck and chest like acid rain and made you wonder how you had already made it to the kitchen counter. He went from holding your face by its jaw to running his hands along your arms, as he was already trying to venture to where your skirt and thighs met.

He went back to kissing your red lips and swallowing the whimpers that came from your mouth. He was only going deeper as you gripped the edge of the kitchen counter to keep you grounded and stop the spinning.

Calloused hands started climbing up your dress and toying with your underwear before you had to catch him by his wrist and practically plead with your eyes. You didn’t want to go further and just wanted to talk to him, but he must have taken the hesitation for something else because he was already jumping to his own conclusions.

Just as quickly as it all started, his body slowly became stiff until his kisses decrescendoed into nothing but a whisper when his lips called out your name.

“Steven?” you pulled away. You felt the change in his posture and how quickly his hands tore from your body.

“S-Sorry.” He was taken aback by the position he had you in and cleared his throat as he peeled his hands from your body and tucked it into his pockets.

You climbed down from where you were and fixed your dress while he desperately tried to ask what had happened.

“Nothing you have to worry about,” you lightly dismissed as you grabbed your things. “It went fine. Thank you for the wonderful evening, but I’ve got to head in early since I’m taking Benny’s shift tomorrow.”

“Hey, don’t forget this.” He was practically sprinting to meet you at the door with the stuffed crocodile while you made sure the smile on your face was still there.

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Night.” he awkwardly drew closer to kiss your forehead before you left and slipped into your room down the hall.

Marc had you reeling the entire night until the sun swallowed the moon as you thought about the way your body quaked while he was devouring your neck and left wet hickeys in his wake. In another bed, Steven was toying with the Rubik’s cube as he thought about how he was going to fix things once more. Marc had made it seem like the only option was to love one when you had always wanted to try to love both.

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Valentine's Day (Aaron Hotchner x Reader)

Summary: You and Aaron are celebrating your first Valentine's Day together. Or, at least, you're trying to.

Chapter TW: Spicy (16+), mention of a sick kid, wine

Word Count: 1204

Masterlist

You anxiously wait outside Aaron’s apartment. You have a bottle of wine and lingerie set with some well-placed hearts to make sure that today is perfect. You care more about your first Valentine’s Day with Aaron than you care to admit. Standing in the hall is certainly not helping your nerves.

Luckily, Aaron lets you in quickly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

“Oh! Aaron!” you gasp, looking around the room. “When did you have time to do this?”

He blushes before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

Taking the wine from you, he leads you to the kitchen. “And you’re not getting one.”

You roll your eyes before sitting on the counter. “You seem to have a whole evening planned.”

“Well, I had planned on you spending the whole evening with me.”

“And the morning?” you tease.

He smiles, turning his attention to the stove. “I’d love to keep you here all weekend.”

“I’d love to be kept here all weekend.” You glance at what he’s cooking. “Though, not if you’re planning on cooking.”

He wants to be insulted, but looking at the monstrosity he’s made, he can’t help but laugh. “I can order in.”

You hop off the counter. “Don’t bother.” You twist his tie between your fingers. “I’d rather just get right to dessert.”

“Yeah?”

Biting your lip, you answer, “Yeah.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Ever practical, he turns off the stove, moving the pan to another burner, before pushing you back against the counter. His arms cage you in. “Tell me, my love, how long did you spend picking out what to wear,” he groans, kissing your neck. “Did you plan this entire outfit around your new set, or-” he starts unzipping your dress “-did you know that whatever you wore would be ruined in a matter of seconds, so you wore nothing?”

He slides your skirt up, revealing the barely-there panties. His fingers trace the embroidery. “Well then, pretty girl, why don’t you show me my present?”

You waste no time sliding out of the dress. Watching his eyes unabashedly roam your body gives you a bit more confidence. You give him a little show, holding your arms out and giving him a slow spin. “What do you think?”

“I think I am the luckiest guy in the world,” he answers. He loops his fingers in the waistband of your panties. “And that I am never learning how to cook.”

You let out a loud laugh. “We’ll have to work on that last one.”

He shrugs but smiles nonetheless.

“Should we take this to the bedroom?”

“I have a better idea,” he answers, moving toward the fridge. It doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for. Unfortunately, before he can show you what it is, his phone rings. With a groan, he closes the fridge before answering.

His tone immediately softens. “Yeah, of course. Send him over. It’s fine.” Hanging up, he turns to you. “I’m sorry. Jack must’ve caught some sort of stomach bug, and-”

“No, no,” you cut him off. “I get it.” You’re already sliding your dress back on. “Just, promise me you’ll show me what you were planning.”

He smiles, pulling you in for another kiss. “Mhm. As long as you promise to wear that set again.”

“Deal,” you mutter against his lips. “I can’t wait.”

The two of you lose track of time, and your dress is nearly off again when Jess knocks on the door. The two of you jump apart, and you feel like a teenager again. Aaron quickly pulls himself together, while you try to make it look like you weren’t just about to have Aaron break your back.

“Hi, buddy, not feeling well?” Aaron asks, answering the door.

Jack shakes his head, falling against his dad’s legs.

“Let’s tell Aunt Jessica goodbye, and then we’ll get you into bed.”

Jack nods sleepily, giving his aunt a small goodbye, before following his dad into the apartment.

You’ve only seen Jack a handful of times, so you (and Aaron, though he’d never tell you that) are understandably stressed about still being in the apartment. Luckily, Jack barely seems to notice that you’re there, solely focused on getting to bed.

You clean up the dishes from when you were supposed to have dinner, while Aaron puts his son to bed.

“Thanks,” Aaron says, walking into the kitchen. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

“It’s fine. How’s Jack?”

He shrugs. “I think he just worked himself up. He should be fine once he wakes up.”

You nod. “Well, I better get going. Thank you, for tonight.”

“I really am sorry. I just wanted tonight to be perfect.”

“It was.”

Looking down, he retorts, “It was until my sick son showed up.”

“Aaron, what’s wrong?”

He sighs. “This just made me realize what you’re getting into. What this relationship is going to be.”

“Aaron-”

“No, no you were expecting a sexy, romantic evening, and I had to wreck that for you.”

“Aaron.”

“And, it’s what I wanted, too, but we-I, I can’t have that. There’ll always be my son and my job and-”

“Aaron!” you cut him off. “I know you’re a master profiler, but can I tell you what I think?”

He nods timidly.

“Yeah, of course, I wanted a ‘sexy, romantic evening’. Who doesn’t? But, I only want that with you. Look, I know everything that comes with you. It’s been what six months and we’ve had to reschedule how many dates? If I were going to leave when things got tough, I would’ve left a while ago.” You grab his hand. “Look, Aaron, I love you, and if you think some job or sick kid is going to scare me off, then-”

He cuts you off with a kiss. Pulling away, he holds your face in his hands. “I love you, too. Stay the night, please?”

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling widely. “Yeah.”

“Good. He’ll be feeling better tomorrow, and then we can actually celebrate.”

“I can’t wait.”

He pulls you in for another kiss. “But, you’re going to have to change.”

You giggle. “Of course. I’ll change, you check on your son, then we can watch a movie?”

“Perfect.”

You’re curled up on the couch when Aaron comes back out. To your surprise, Jack is following him.

“He couldn’t sleep,” Aaron explains.

Jack climbs onto the couch, settling himself just far enough away from you for Aaron to sit between the two of you.

“Well then,” you reply, “I think we should let him pick a movie.”

“Can we watch Aladdin?” Jack asks.

“Sure, buddy,” Aaron answers. “I think it’s still in there from last time.” He hits play on the remote, and sure enough, the title screen comes up.

“(Y/N), do you like Aladdin?” Jack pipes up, curling into his father’s side.

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites.”

“My daddy likes it too. He says that he wanted to make you feel like Jasmine tonight.”

You glance over at a blushing Aaron. “He certainly made me feel like a princess tonight.”

Jack goes quiet and is asleep by the twenty-minute mark.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you whisper.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

A future

Daryl Dixon x female!reader

Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, slight Breeding kink? (Minors dni)

Words: 2.3k

Season: 9

Summary: Daryl sees you caring for Lydia and the other children and realises he's ready for his future with you

Hope you enjoy! Wrote this at 1am hope it's good! - mads :))

Part 2

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Snowflakes melted on your coat and lingered in the air as you walked through the incoming snowstorm to get the kingdom safe at Hilltop. Your hands were frozen, having given your gloves to Lydia. Since Daryl introduced you to her, your heart ached. The need to show her affection and love just like you did with him after you accidentally saw his own scars. “Ya gloves- where they at?” Daryl spoke from beside you, he had noticed your fingertips becoming red, your failed attempts at pulling your sleeves over your hands. “Lydia needed them more” you replied, looking towards his face. You shot him a small smile, the snow had also littered his hair, his nose and cheeks were starting to turn red from the frozen flakes falling on them. “What ya smiling at?” He chuckled, his eyebrows crinkling with confusion. “You're cute with snow in your hair,” you laughed. He gave you a playful glare before shaking his head at the snowflakes being released. You laughed harder at his futile attempts of getting rid of them, but daryl's plan had worked. He just wanted to hear you laugh. “How come she's got them?” He asked again. You sighed “she needed them, I couldn't find the spares” you shrugged. Daryl glanced at his own hands, both of them gloved. He slowly took them off before handing them to. “Take mine, if I get cold I'll come back and get em” he said, you smiled and took them from him. Your hands immediately thanking you from the new warmth that he granted you. “Thank you”

He didn't reply only nodded before walking further ahead to the front. You however slowed down to walk at Lydia's pace.

The girl looked at you with a concerned face, she knew you weren't a threat, she was always confused as to why you showed her kindness and love. “You doing alright?” You asked her, she glanced at you again before slowly nodding. “Why are you kind to me?” She asked. You looked at her face, it was laced with confusion like she was battling with herself. You knew Henry's death hit her hard, you knew she felt like it was her fault. “Your parents actions don't define you” you stated before looking back towards the front. “What do you mean” she questioned. “It's what I told Daryl, you aren't your parents. You've done nothing wrong.” You smiled at her. She gave a small one back, but stayed silent, thinking about what you had said to her.

Daryl glanced back at you, and his heart fluttered at the sight of you again with Lydia. He wasn't sure why, he never wanted kids. But seeing you with her, guiding the young girl's grief, like you did with him after Beth. “I know that look” Michonne said, speaking from besides him. “What look” he asked. “The I realised I want a child with them look” she laughed. His eyes widened with shock, was it that obvious? “I had the same look according to Rick, he said everything I looked at him, it was like that's all I wanted” she added. Daryl pondered. You both had been together for years, he thought about it watching you interact with Judith, helping the girl. And now again with Lydia. “It's not the best time now is it?” He stated, he wasn't even sure why he was entertaining her with the idea he even wanted one. She laughed loudly causing him to glare at her. “When is the right time? You don't plan for theses things. The idea is the seed being planted. I assure you she would want the same. You'll be there to protect her” she said. He smiled softly to himself, he'd die for you now, adding a child into the mix not only would he get what he always wanted but never thought he could have.

It wasn't long until you all reached the Sanctuary or what was left of it. Setting up small fires for people to huddle around, cook small amounts of food as the brunt of the storm hit against the glass. Daryl sat by his own fire with Lydia, Carol and michonne. Watching you care for the others with Jerry, making sure everyone was warm enough and had enough food or water. He loved your caring nature and couldn't stop thinking about back at home, his desire to have you bearing with his child growing stronger. It wasn't long until you wandered back to the fire, sitting in between his legs and sinking back into his embrace. You patted your leg looking at the small girl, “sleep up, michonne will vouch my thigh is better than the floor” you laughed. The girl nodded before gingerly laying her head on your thigh. You gazed into the fire, whilst behind you Daryl's heart and brain was just exploding at the sight of you sitting in between his legs caring for this girl like she was your own. Michonne and Carol only smiled at him as your eyes began to drift off, his fingers playing with the ends of your hairs subconsciously.

Once you had made it home safely, he was more determined to convince you than ever, coming home you had fallen over in a struggle with a walker hidden beneath the snow. He almost had a heart attack watching you collapse on the ground with a yelp that was followed by a groan, he quickly killed the walker before checking you were fine. You blushed at his protectiveness and how gentle he was scanning your body for an injury. But his mind was truest made up when they walked through the gates of their home, being tackled by the children in a snow fight, the sounds of their laughter and your own as they buried you with snow. Your pretend screams as Aaron joined in the burying, calling for your knight in shining armour to come and save you from the gremlins as you put it. This sight alone made him realise he needed this future, a child so he could see this constantly in his everyday life. A child that would trust him and let him keep them safe, someone that would be there for the both of you. He needed it, in fact now he craved it. After everything he has been through, he needed this.

Late at night he watched you strip your body of the wet, icy clothes. Your thighs burning bright red from the cold, goosebumps littered your skin, as the small breeze was coming in from outside. The fire barely doing anything to keep you warm. You watched Daryl through your eyelashes, watched how he scanned every moment, each item coming off your body. His eyes were hungry, lustful but also filled with adoration and love. It's what you loved about him, how he melted around you, how you had broken all of his walls to make him this natural born leader that kept everyone safe. That kept you safe. You wanted children but didn't want to overstep a boundary by asking for it. Thinking he had enough on his mind with Rick's death and now the whisperers. Unsure when the man that was in front of you was ready, you were happy with it without one. If you had him you were content, but your heart sought it, then you needed to see him hold a child so delicate like he did at the prison with Judith's.

“Penny for your thoughts ?” You asked. Sitting next to him wrapping yourself in a blanket. He stared at you for a moment, wondering if it was the right thing to ask, his head had been flooded with the idea all day yet he hadn't thought about how he was actually going to tell you. “I..I want a child, with you I mean” he said quickly, his head quickly turning to the fire in front of of him as he chewed on his fingers nervously. Your eyes lit up with hope, a chuckle left your lips. He turned back to you with a worried yet questioning look. “Me too” was all you said. He took a moment to process what you had said, before his mouth forming a large grin, larger than you had every seen before. The man you had first met at the quarry was here no longer, no longer tainted by his brother's choices or his horrid past with his father. A man that grew up, started to care for others helping them survive along with him until the very end, that never gave up until he got a solution or answer.

You loosened your grip on the blanket, leaning in to bring his face to yours. Your lips performing a familiar dance that you both knew so well. His hands weaving their way into your hair as he pulled you closer, the kiss becoming heated and needy. He pulled you on top of his lap, the blanket now forgotten on the floor. You pushed him against the back of the sofa, grinding again his clothed lap. Groaning and moaning for him, needy and desperate for him. Wanting nothing more than his love. He gripped the back of your thighs, never once breaking the kiss. He effortlessly lifted you up taking you over to the bed in long fast strides. He gently laid you back on the bed before clambering on top of you. Your body's becoming flushed against each other, your nipples becoming erect from the coldness of his shirt against them. He detached himself from your mouth, drawn to your breasts, kneading them. Gripping them firmly as he kissed and sucked on them releasing whimpers from your mouth.

He looked up at you, your face painted with pleasure. This encouraged him further, needing to give you more. He had never been good with words, so he shows his love for you in intimate moments like this. And oh it screams loudly how much he loves you. Your hips started to thrust upwards, craving attention in that area. Daryl bought a hand down, lightly feathering the area, before pushing your underwear aside and gently rubbing your clit, using the wetness you had already formed for him as lube. His fingers rubbed and tweaked at it causing loud whimpers and moans to leave your lips. His mouth is working on your nipple again. Your hands weaved their way into his hair, tugging it. Your body clenching bracing itself for a climax. “I need you Daryl, please” you cried. “You got me, cum for me. Be a good girl and I'll give what ya need” he groaned. You nodded your breath hitching in your throat as you rode out your high. He began working on the rest of the clothing on both you and him, quickly removing it. You sat up towards the headboard, watching him undress, his cock twitching no longer contained in the fabric prison. “Been thinking bout this, bout our child” he groaned, giving his lengths a few tugs before making his way to you. “How ya look with my child, how caring you would be” he groaned placing himself in between your legs. His tip placed at the entrance. “I want it and need it to Daryl” you pleaded. Staring at he length that was place so close to your throbbing core.

Daryl looked at you, bringing you in for another soft yet firm kiss, before fully entering you. Starting off at a slow pace, so he can enjoy the view of your faces, your swollen lips being taken in between your teeth as you try to suppress your whimpers. “Let me hear em” he groaned, picking up his face. Your legs spread wider, he gently lifted them over his shoulders allowing him to go deeper. He needed to. Your moans were like music to him, spurring him to go faster, breathless moans started to leave your lips as you core tightened around him, getting ready for another climax but Daryl ignore it, his desire for his own release was too strong. He needed it get what he wanted, what you both wanted. It was the finale piece to the evening, the one that could change your life forever. It was near, he powered through your climax. Your body becoming very sensitive but still enjoying his determination to get what you both wanted. His thrusts became harder and faster, his angle changing to reach the even better spot you had. You quickly became a groaning mess, closing into your ext orgasm whilst he still fought for his own. Your walls clenched his, finally sending him over the edge as he thrust deeper than he was going or ever dreamed of going, your climax milking it out of him as your walls squeezed it.

You both laid there panting, as he stayed inside of you for a moment. You placed a soft kiss on his forehead, before he lifted his head to look at you. Tears dried in the corners of your eyes, you lips red and swollen, yet to him you have never looked better. Aftercare was quick, him cleaning you up. Before he pulled you in against his chest, holding you tightly as you both laid there. Silently praying it worked and you would be blessed with a child. “I want it to be a girl, if we have one”you whispered. Daryl tensed he forgot about genders, the fear slowly creeping in again. Would he be like his dad? His thoughts being to pull at threads he knew deep down weren't true. “You ain't him, you never will be” you muttered before placing kisses in the crook of his neck. He held you tighter, knowing no matter what happened he'd have you. He'd do anything to just have to forever. You curled into him closer, falling into a gentle sleep before you heard him say “I want a girl too”

A soft smile spread across your lips, knowing no matter what you had him to protect you and the child, and suddenly the world seemed safer for one. With him you could finally have the Future you both dreamed of.

Soft Spot

Part 2

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT, swearing, violence, Merle being a creep ❧ Word Count: 6.4k

❧ Requested by @deathishereditary (this request—this is the second part)

❧ Summary: Adjusting to life in Daryl’s camp, you have a less than enjoyable interaction with Merle when he is caught spying on you changing in your tent. Daryl leaps into protective mode, and you just admit, it awakens something in you.

❧ A/N: Here it is! The smutty sequel to Soft Spot. I really love this Daryl x Reader couple, they're so cute! I honestly don't even care if this Daryl is OOC (in my opinion, he isn't OOC... I could genuinely see him being this soft/cutesy with his SO, but maybe that's just me lol). Also I came so close to adding a daddy kink but I restrained myself.

Daryl watched with a sharp, alert gaze as you dipped yourself in the water, nude and vulnerable in the middle of walker-infested woods, but you insisted upon him taking you further out, away from the prying eyes of the group at the quarry, who still were amazed by your presence, even after a week had passed since Daryl found you. 

“A nice bath,” you had said. “I need a nice bath, Daryl. Please?”

As usual, he relented, taking you out to a pond nestled amongst the trees in the forest just outside the camp. It was perfect for privacy, it being shrouded in trees and bushy overgrowth, but his main concern was walkers, as usual. That, and you were still recovering from your two-day-old injury, walking with a slight limp that sent a sharp pang of hurt through his own body. If you needed to run away, he was sure he’d have to carry you, but what you wanted was what you would get, as far as he was concerned.

“Don’t go too far now!” he hollered to you. “Best to stay close, shallow end.”

You smiled and shook your head. “You should come in! The water feels so good… And you’re filthy, Daryl.”

He scoffed. “‘M fine.” Of course, the water did look inviting, and so did you, with your breasts bobbing ever so slightly in the weak current. His drawn out stare brought a blush to your cheeks, and you subconsciously covered your breasts, despite knowing he’d seen them many times before.

“Can’t you just come in for a little bit, pumpkin?” you asked sweetly, playing on his weakness for you. Of course, you always used your power for good; he could never say no to you, and you used that to get him to do things that you were sure would be good for him. This time, you were determined to get him clean. For his own good. “For me?”

He chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip, fiddling with his crossbow as he leaned back on the tree he’d been dutifully standing guard at. He had to admit, he was filthy, caked in dirt and blood and sweat and God knows what else. Probably tree sap, which made him slightly flammable. He was sure he’d brushed up against some poison oak, too, and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with, on top of everything else going on.

“What about the walkers?” he asked you. “Someone’s gotta keep watch.”

“You can keep watch in here,” you laughed. “Please, sweetheart?”

A flash of your wide, batting eyes was enough to push him over the edge. He stripped himself of his clothes rather quickly, hoping to get the whole ordeal over with so he could go back to watching out for walkers again, then marched towards the edge of the pond with his crossbow and knife in hand, naked.

You found yourself beaming at the image of him stripped bare, dipping himself in the pond while he rather reluctantly set his weapons on a rock for ease of reach. “I ain’t gonna be in here long,” he said. “We should get back soon, anyway. Sun’s gonna start goin’ down in an hour or so. Gotta put some more ointment on your wound.”

You sighed and waded closer to him, your feet barely stepping on the ground below the water. Ignoring his rambling about safety, you reached for your washcloth and raised it above his head to wring the water out over his hair. The light, ashy brown strands stuck adorably to the sides of his face and his forehead, while his face scrunched up tight in reaction.

“We’re going to get you clean, mister,” you said with a smile. “Nice and clean… I just wish we had soap.”

He rolled his eyes, though his quivering lips that curled into an ever so slight, barely detectable smile betrayed him. You began scrubbing his bare chest with your washcloth, though your touch was so light and delicate that you feared you’d have trouble really scraping off all that caked-on dirt and gore. 

Your tongue stuck out between your lips just a sliver as you concentrated on getting bits of sticky tree sap out of the sparse forest of short, wiry hairs on his broad chest, the same one you fell asleep on every night. It was good to know it would once again be clean for tonight.

“How did you get tree sap in your chest hairs?” you giggled sweetly.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” he replied, with his usual scoff thrown in. If you hadn’t known him so well, you might’ve thought he was serious, but he was joking with you, you could tell. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse for you to wash me, though…”

“Mhm, sure…” Your smile seemed to fade as you watched the water drip down his chest, suddenly reminding you of how different everything had become, how the world would never be like it was before. Most of all, that intrusive thought snuck up on you again, as it often had at the most inconvenient of times: Do I belong here?

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and managing a small smile. “Just thinking…”

“‘Bout what?”

You scoffed and shook your head to throw him off your trail, but he only lowered his gaze and looked more seriously at you, trying to draw the anxiety from your mind out into the open. That intense, blue-eyed gaze was nothing short of immensely powerful. 

“I miss our apartment,” you finally said. Your gaze moved downward as you scrubbed his abdomen, trying not to look him in the eyes with the shame you felt in admitting your sadness. “I miss my family. Going to work… Never thought I’d miss that. I think I even miss that stupid squeaky floorboard in the living room, and the overflowing toilet that drove you crazy. I was just thinking about all that.”

He smirked at the memory of your apartment’s terrible plumbing system, and how much you shivered underneath the stream of cold water from the old shower. The water heater was always so fickle, no matter how many times Daryl tried to fix it. The only solution was to get in the shower with you in an attempt to shield you from the direct assault of icy cold water, and to try to keep you warm with his body heat. 

“This is better than that damn shower, though,” he said, trying to lift your spirits. 

“I suppose,” you laughed. “And at least we have each other, right?”

“Right.” He leaned forward to peck your lips, his eyes fluttering to meet your gaze as his lips gently pulled away, but not too far, as he wasn’t quite willing to leave your lips completely. “Ya know I’d never let anything or anyone hurt you, right?”

You nodded vehemently. If there was anything you knew, you knew that. “Of course,” you said. “You’re my hero.”

“I am?” he asked with a smirk. 

“You know you are… Always making me feel safe. You’re so good to me, and I’m such a wimp.”

“Ya know I hate it when you say that.” His hand raised to graze your cheek, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, a touch you were so desperate for, as always. “You ain’t a wimp. You’re perfect. I don’t blame ya for bein’ scared, for missing things. Everyone’s scared… Maybe I’m a little scared, too. Scared of losing you.”

You smiled sadly, though you tried to lighten the mood just to keep yourself from crying. “Merle, too?”

He scoffed. “Merle? Pfft, he’s all right, but he ain’t you… My bunny.”

He elicited a soft whimper of surprise from you when he grabbed you by your waist, pulling you against his chest and causing you to drop the washcloth into the water with a splash. 

His lips crashed onto yours, sweetly and yet with so much hunger, as he hadn’t been this intimate with you since before you were separated a little over a week ago. For the two days you were at his camp, he’d only touch you to hold you or kiss your cheek, as he knew you were still recovering from your injury. Still, he hadn’t been immune to his desire for you, his innate need to be with you in the way only he could. 

He needed your soft, sweet body beneath his, letting him guide you as he drew you closer and closer to abject pleasure. He needed to hear your little moans and whimpers of uncontrollable, carnal bliss as he hit deep into you, gently and with the utmost care, but also with so much passion you swore you saw his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

For fear of hurting your leg, he had been holding back the heat that was rising in him, but with you naked, soaking wet, no less, he couldn’t keep pretending he wasn’t desperate for physical intimacy. The privacy helped, too, of course. Sharing a tent with Merle wasn’t the most ideal situation, you’d be the first to admit.

His hand reached below water to take a handful of your ass, the pressure of which sent your core careening into his where you felt his hardening. All the while, his tongue slipped into your gaping mouth to taste you, wriggling it around too fast for your tongue to keep up.

His hand moved around to cup your groin, where he put immense, sudden pressure on your clit. You whimpered into his mouth and trembled in his arms, the way he loved. He loved how you reacted to him, how sensitive you always were. It made him want to be more delicate with you, yet at the same time, he wanted to devour you, to elicit the most lascivious noises from your sweet mouth.

“Daryl,” you laughed against his cheek when he finally removed his lips from yours. His tongue tickled your ear playfully, while his hand rubbed more feverishly at your clit until you gasped and clinged harder to his back. “Daryl! Oh!”

The feeling of his finger gently entering you caused you to open your eyes in shock, and immediately your gaze was drawn to a lumbering figure slowly, but steadily, approaching, coming closer to the pond as it moved between the trees in the summery golden hour.

“Oh, Daryl,” you moaned, somewhere between pleasure and fear. You dug your chin into his shoulder and tapped harshly on his soaking wet back. “Daryl!” you cried out a little louder now, as the walker surely could see the two of you now. “Look!”

He grunted as you hit his back once more. “What?” 

His peripheral vision drew him to the sight of the walker getting dangerously close to the pond. “Ah, shit!”

He waded swiftly through the water, back to the edge of the pond to retrieve his crossbow.

He lifted himself up and out of the small reservoir, naked and dripping wet, to lift his weapon and aim it directly at the creature’s rotting head. He shot the thing down, and you breathed a sigh of relief. 

He huffed and looked around, now noticing sundown was fast approaching. “Let’s get back,” he said to you, then held out his hand to help you out of the pond. “Could be more comin’.”

The idea frightened you, and yet, you couldn’t help but smile as he wrapped a bath towel around you, rubbing your arms up and down to cry you off. “What’re you smilin’ about, huh?” 

You shrugged and watched him tie his own towel around his waist. “Just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone shoot a crossbow naked before… Kind of alluring.”

He smirked and shook his head, slightly bashfully, and yet with a hint of mischief. “Let’s get back,” he said again. “We got unfinished business, bunny.”

“What about your brother?” you asked.

He shrugged. “He can sleep outside tonight.”

Night fell not long after returning to camp, and you found yourself brushing through your damp hair as you sat upon the cot you shared with Daryl in his tent. He’d left momentarily to retrieve some MREs from the center of camp, leaving you alone in only your towel, slightly exhausted but eager for Daryl to make love to you as he promised.

You recalled how much Daryl loved when you wore his shirts, how they covered you almost like a short nightgown, and how in the morning after sleeping in them, his shirts would carry your scents reminding him of you.

Stripping the towel from your body, you slowly rose to cross the tent and dig through Daryl’s small pile of clothes. His cleanest shirt at the moment was his old yellow plaid flannel with the sleeves cut off (as he had a habit of doing), so you laid it out on the cot before you, then crossed over again to rummage through the pile of undergarments Daryl had found for you just the day before.

It felt wonderful to slip on that clean pair of panties, and before slipping into Daryl’s shirt, you bundled it up in your hands and held it up to your nose, taking a deep breath as you took in his scent of tobacco and pine. The subtle tickle of the fabric against your bare breasts was exhilarating, and caused you to giggle a little to yourself, though the sound was muffled by the soft shirt held against your lips. 

Merle’s beady, sharp blue eyes peeked through the slight crevice of the flaps opening up to your tent. They followed your body’s every move, every heave of your chest as you took in another whiff of Daryl’s comforting scent. You might’ve been able to feel a perverse pair of eyes on you if you weren’t so enraptured, but you couldn’t feel a thing other than the cotton grazing your now clean, bare skin.

He watched you intently, almost suspiciously, as if you knew you were putting on a little show for him, teasing him. When you pulled the shirt away from your chest, revealing your breasts once again, his breath hitched and his smile curled into a cruel smirk. It wasn’t that he was particularly interested in you had you not been with Daryl, but the fact that you were was almost like an overt challenge to his masculinity, and his superiority as the older brother. His younger brother with a woman, while Merle was facing the end of the world on his own? It annoyed him, and so seeing you half-nude was a rather amusing thought to him, and you had a hell of a rack, he thought.

“What the hell are you doin’?!”

Daryl’s voice bellowed and echoed throughout the camp. You flinched, quickly pulling on Daryl’s shirt before buttoning it in a haste. Throwing aside the flaps of the tent, you were met with the image of Daryl ferociously attacking Merle to the ground, the both of them nearly rolling into the flames of the bonfire. 

“Get off me!” Merle shouted, though his words were slurred as Daryl’s hand squished his face against the ground. Merle spat before kneeing Daryl in the groin, and he quickly moved to get the upper hand, standing above Daryl, who writhed in pain for just a moment. His anger was enough to get him back up. 

He scooted himself back and launched himself up to clasp his hands around Merle’s neck, then pushed him steadily backwards until the older brother’s back was firmly pressed against the nearest tree. His hands tightened around his throat as he snarled, with a low growl punctuating his words: “I’ll fuckin’ kill you, Merle,” he said. “I will… You never, ever watch ‘er, you hear me?”

“Pfft,” he laughed. “You’d kill your own brother for that little slut? Boy, it’s time you grew a pair of balls and stop thinkin’ about hooch all the damn time!”

“Oh, yeah?! That why you were watchin’ ‘er change?! You fuckin’ creep!”

Your legs almost gave out where you stood, and suddenly you felt alien in your own body, ashamed of yourself for not noticing the peeping Tom outside your tent. 

Dizziness took over, taking you back into the tent and flinging you onto Daryl’s cot, where you buried your head in his pillow and let loose tears of embarrassment.

Outside, you heard more yelling, more arguing between the two brothers, as well as heavy rustling and hitting that must’ve been indicative of violence.

You only hoped Daryl wasn’t hurt, but judging by the fact that he was the one yelling, you supposed it was him delivering most of the blows.

“You so much as look at my woman again,” you heard him say, “I will gouge your eyes out, Merle. I ain’t fuckin’ joking.”

Your breathing became ragged with fear now, having never seen or heard Daryl acting with such rage. You had seen him angry, but never like this. Never violent towards his own brother, and yet, in a strange way, you found it somewhat endearing. He was protecting your honor, so to speak, even if he was doing it in a rather… unorthodox way.

The fear was intoxicating, exciting, you hated to admit. You knew he would never hurt you, or anyone who didn’t deserve it, but his uncontrollable, impulsive nature filled you with a sense of uncertainty that intrigued you. It was different from the Daryl who made you feel safe and secure. Of course, you still felt that, but slightly more on edge. It was terribly alluring.

“Hey,” he said, much more softly now, though still a little heated from his anger. “You all right?”

He sat himself on the edge of the cot, one hand coming into contact with your back as he rubbed it, the warm, heavy hand soothing you almost immediately.

“Mhm,” you mumbled with a sniffle against the pillow. “I didn’t know he was watching me… I can’t believe he saw me naked, Daryl. How am I going to live that down? I’m so embarrassed.”

He huffed and laid himself down beside you, immediately scooping you into his arms and aligning your body with his. You felt one hand smoothing out your hair, and the other holding yours.

“He brings it up again and I’ll set him straight,” he said. “Promise. Won’t let him bother you.”

You smiled and tugged tighter on his hand before bringing it to your lips to kiss his palm. “You scare me sometimes, Daryl Dixon,” you muttered against his hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that angry.”

He frowned, knowing how much you hated the sound of yelling, how sensitive you were to violence. He’d always tried to never let the side of him come out in front of you, since you preferred his softness, but Merle’s act of perversion and invasion of privacy had driven him over the edge. Ever since you arrived, Merle had a chip on his shoulder, hurling crass comments your way and insulting Daryl for how “pussy whipped” he was. The eavesdropping was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Sorry,” he said, burying his face into your hair and tightening his body against yours. “Couldn’t help it. He shoulda known better. He’s lucky he got away with just a bloody nose.”

You squirmed in his arms, somewhere between slight fear and lustful restlessness. His body pressed up to yours did little to distract you from your arousal, but all Daryl felt was your trembling. He felt like a monster, no better than that walker who’d interrupted your bath that evening, or even Merle himself.

“Do I really scare ya, sweetheart?” he asked. “‘Cause I don’t wanna scare ya, not at all… And I’d never, ever hurt you.”

You turned to sit up straight and face him. He stared up at you seriously, with a hint of sadness in his eyes. Even the thought of hurting you was too much to bear. Scaring you was almost just as bad. Someone so sweet and sensitive as you deserved to be protected, not terrified.

“I know that,” you said. “I said you scare me sometimes, not all the time… And besides, I didn’t say I don’t like it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What d’ya mean by that?” he asked in genuine curiosity. “Thought you hate bein’ scared.”

“I do,” you sighed. “But… I don’t know.”

He sat up beside you, reaching his hand out to sweep back a chunk of hair that hung over the side of your face. “Talk to me, sweet girl. Can’t always just sit there lookin’ pretty. I know you got a lot goin’ on in there.” He tapped the side of your head gently with his index finger, eliciting a giggle from you.

“Well, it’s no big deal,” you said with a shrug. “I just thought it was kind of… nice.”

“Thought what was nice?” he asked, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he started understanding what you meant. 

You bit your lip and raised your head to meet his gaze, sharp yet soft, cool yet warm. The man was a walking contradiction, in the best possible way. He could be so cruel and mean, and so sweet and kind, all at once. In any case, he was sensitive. Soft, even. Everything he did was out of softness. Even his anger was born of his love for you.

“You know, how you, um… Stood up for me, I guess.”

But that wasn’t the half of it. It wasn’t just “nice,” it was intoxicatingly attractive.

“In fact,” you continued, “it was… thrilling.”

“Thrilling?”

“Mhm… Exhilarating. Maybe a little too exhilarating.”

You giggled as you thought to yourself about the sound of Daryl’s anger, how much it reminded you of his familiar grunts and groans. The redness and protruding veins all about his face were also reminiscent of a scene you often replayed in your dreams.

He caught on quickly, moving behind you and cradling your body between his legs, which enclosed around you tight. His hands grabbed your waist and scooted you backwards until your ass sat snug with his crotch. You simply had no choice but to be turned on now, damn the embarrassment of Merle seeing you half-naked. All that mattered now was Daryl. 

“I got you excited, huh?” he asked, his lips tickling your ear as he whispered. “You got a dirty mind, bunny?”

“No,” you laughed. “I’m as pure as the driven snow. You’re the one who corrupts me… By the way, you promised you’d take care of me tonight.”

He knew from two years of experience that “take care of” was your polite little euphemism for sex. He loved it, though. Taking care of you was perhaps his favorite thing to do.

His hand gently caressed your sides, lifting up his worn flannel shirt you’d taken for yourself with each pass, just enough so he could see your panties, and lick his lips at the sight. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. “Don’t I always take care of you, princess?”

“Mmm, yes,” you giggled as his fingertips tickled your sides. “You take such good care of me, Daryl…”

His hands rose to cup your breasts, kneading them slowly as his cheek rubbed against yours, his scruff tickling your soft skin. 

“You put this on just for me?” he asked. “‘Cause ya know I love it when you wear my shirts… Love wearin’ it knowin’ you were in it. You’re such a sexy little thing…”

You blushed as he reached up to yank open the top button of the shirt, then the next few until he could slip his hand beneath to tweak at your nipple.

“Daryl!” you giggled. 

He groaned hoarsely, almost animalistically, against your ear, and trailed his lips down your neck to leave traces of his saliva.

“I’m gonna make you squirm,” he said. “Gonna make your pussy twitch real nice… You’re gonna whimper just for me.”

“Yes…”

His hand slipped down to grab your clothed crotch, sending you jolting in his arms. Your back arched as you thrusted instinctually against his hand, which held steadfast and strong.

“Horny bunny,” he laughed. “So cute… Let’s get these panties off, sweetheart.”

You nodded and reached down to strip off the dainty fabric, Daryl watching with hazy eyes as your core was revealed to him. He immediately parted your legs, which went limp upon feeling his touch. You anchored your feet to the surface of the cot, ready to feel Daryl’s hand pleasuring you.

The abrupt pressure of his palm nearly sent your legs closing in shock and surprise pleasure, but you quickly melted into his touch as he swirled circles around your clit.

His mouth breathed heavily against your ear, your head thrown back and resting upon his broad shoulder. His fingers moved deftly on your clit, while his other hand kept one of your trembling legs open, pressing firmly on your thigh.

“You’re shakin’,” he said. “I got you, (Y/N). Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

“I—I can’t help it,” you sighed. “It feels so good…”

His fingers let loose for a moment before he flattened his palm and rubbed it up and down your slit. Your teeth clenched as you let out a strained gasp at the feeling, then his fingers stretched to tickle your entrance before his index slipped inside.

Another finger slipped in, and your pussy desperately tightened to feel as much of the girth of his two fingers as you could. When his fingers pulled out, he held them to your mouth, dancing his fingertips over your slightly agape lips.

“Open,” he rasped in a whisper.

You should’ve seen that coming, knowing how much he loved to watch you suck on his fingers.

Your lips opened to greet his fingers, and they closed around them to happily suck, licking the taste of yourself off them all the while.

“Good girl,” he said, holding his forehead tenderly against yours as he watched you obey him. He gently tapped your chin, instructing you to release his fingers. “Let me taste.”

He took his own fingers into his mouth now, and groaned in abject pleasure at the taste of your arousal. “Mmm,” he moaned. “So sweet. You’re such a good girl.”

His kiss took you by surprise, and his tongue filled your mouth to the brim, wriggling around wildly as your own tongue tried to keep up. The vigor of his mouth distracted you for a moment from the movements of his hand, now crazily swirling in tight, hard circles over your circle, digging into your core with each thrust.

“Oh!” you moaned into his mouth. “Oh, yes!”

You bucked your hips to meet his hand until he held it tight against you. His movement stopped so all he could feel was your body rutting desperately against him.

“Please don’t stop!” you begged, panting in exhaustion and need. “Oh, Daryl, please…”

“Sorry, bunny,” he said. “Just wanted to watch you for a sec. You’re my beautiful girl. Just perfect.” 

You groaned and smiled deliriously, once again sinking your head onto his shoulder as his hand continued moving. “Right there…”

You grasped at his thighs on either side of you, holding on for dear life as your body climbed to the imminent peak of your pleasure. His rubbing became more vigorous, more sloppy and yet somehow more precise as he gauged exactly where you needed his attention. 

Beneath you, his own need for attention was growing, and so was his cock, begging for release from the confines of his pants. You felt him harden, exciting you even more. His hand was wonderful, but his cock was magical.

As your body began to shake and squirm more and more, your ass circling and rutting against his cock, he had to keep himself from coming in his pants, but he was determined to pump himself inside you before his orgasm. 

“My cock wants ya so bad,” he huffed. “Can’t wait to be inside you, sweet thing.”

“D-Daryl…” You let loose one of his thighs to grab his hair, combing your hand through it desperately. “I’m almost there,” you said.

He smiled as he kissed your cheek, so innocently, despite the context. Only he could make you feel so pure and light, yet so sexual and, for lack of a better word, dirty.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

Your face strained as you tried to move your body with more pressure against his hand, with only the goal of reaching the orgasm that threatened to close in all around you. 

“Oh, oh… Oh, God!”

Every thrust you made threatened to bring you to the edge, but you weren’t quite there yet. It was like your own body was teasing you, holding you on the brink of abject pleasure just for the fun of it.

“Come on…” you muttered through gritted teeth. “Daryl…”

He rubbed harder, swirling faster and with as much pressure as he could manage. “Almost there,” he encouraged. “Good girl… You’re doin’ so good.”

Finally, you felt the knot in your core release, and with a series of strained whimpers and moans, you felt a cascade of warm, tingling pulses envelop you with each uncontrollable twitch.

“I’m coming…” you sighed as you broke out into a delirious grin, your head rocking back and forth on his shoulder. You could feel his eyes on you, watching your face contorted in pleasure with each pulse of your orgasm.

Beneath the palm of his hand, he felt the twitching of your pussy as he slipped one finger in, just to feel your convulsing walls clenching around him.

“Good girl,” he said again. 

His lips attacked the skin under your ear, sucking and licking in appreciation. 

Once your twitching stopped, and your ragged breathing became more regular, he wasted no time in unbuttoning the rest of your shirt, then tossing it somewhere in the darkness of the tent.

He then folded his legs underneath him and used his body to pin you to the bed, his entire body weight now above you. 

Your body was limp, pliable and ready to be maneuvered however he saw fit. As he lifted his body, he tugged off his shirt, rustling up his hair. All you could hear was his soft groans and deep, guttural pants, and then the clatter of his belt buckle and jeans on the canvas floor of the tent. 

His strong hands maneuvered you, lifting your hips and spreading apart your legs as they bent underneath you. With his grip on your waist, you felt the sopping wet tickle of his tongue slowly licking up your spine, causing you to tremble and gasp in your increased state of sensitivity.

His lips stopped at the base of your neck, and his cock slid up your lower back, just above your bottom. 

“I’m gonna go inside now,” he said. “Lick my fingers.”

He brought his hand up to your mouth, and you did as he asked, being sure to coat his hand in a thick layer of your saliva. He brought his hand back down to his cock, rubbing the spit all over his shaft before dipping his tip gently into you.

His face buried in your hair, he dug deeper, pulling out just a centimeter or so every few moments.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, that intense southern accent so shaky as he began to lose control of himself. Every inch he moved deeper inside of you threatened his ability to hold back his jagged, aggressive movements. Still, he had to be gentle with you. He knew you liked it gentle, soft, and sweet, and he liked it that way, too, but he still had that aggressive streak, the one you apparently found to be “exciting.”

He wondered if he could go a little harder on you tonight, since you seemed to like his rough tendencies.

He didn’t have to wonder much longer. “Harder,” you whimpered. “Please, Daryl? A little harder?”

His eyes widened as he continued gently thrusting into you, as he usually did. “You sure, sweetheart?” he asked. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” you said. “Just a little rougher on me, please.”

You wanted to feel him hit hard into you, to hear his animalistic grunts and groans as he neared his orgasm. And yet, you still wanted his softness, his loving touch. You knew he could somehow master both at once.

“Okay.”

He pulled you down closer to his core, sending his cock as far as it could possibly go inside your pussy. You yelped in surprise, but soon you were overtaken with pleasure as his thrusting became slightly more heavy and deliberate, with fewer intervals in between.

You could feel his hot breath on your shoulder, his lips suctioning to your skin as his hands came down to squeeze your breasts, tender and sensitive. 

“Oh!” you cried out. “Yes! Daryl!”

“You like that, bunny?” he asked. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

“Oh, it feels so good… Please don’t stop.”

One hand left your breast to paw at your throbbing clit, offering more stimulation as he was determined to have you come around his cock.

“Come for me again,” he panted against your ear. “Come for your man like a good girl… Good bunny.”

Your body twitched and writhed with the overstimulation of his hand and his cock pounding harder than usual, yet still so tenderly and with the utmost care. 

His hand applied more pressure to your clit, fingertips circling feverishly and demanding you to come. He needed to feel your walls closing in all around his shaft, milking him until he leaked precum inside of you.

Between his harsh, guttural panting and grunts, and the incessant squeaking of the cot, you could hardly hear anything, senses becoming dull as your body focused on that one point of pleasure, where Daryl’s cock hit your most sensitive spot inside you.

“Ooo,” you sighed. “Right there.”

He hit harder once again, determined to stimulate you even more. All the while, his cock pulsed and throbbed inside you, only sending you into further fits of pleasure.

“Daryl…” you whimpered shakily, almost sounding frightened. “I’m… gonna… come.”

His hand continued to pleasure you, while the other arm wrapped around your torso, keeping you snug tight against him. “I got ya,” he whispered. “I’m right here. Come for me, girl.”

You nodded vehemently, and as his cock continued thrusting, and his hand continued rubbing, you crossed the threshold into bliss once more, writhing and shaking as a string of whimpers and sultry moans slipped from your tender lips.

“Oh, yes!” you cried out. “Yes!”

He laughed deliriously as he felt your soaking wet pussy twitching all around him, strangling his cock in the best possible way. 

“Good girl,” he praised against your ear. “Squeeze my cock… That’s it… You’re gonna make me come, too, sweet little thing.”

Your hand shot back as you demanded he hold it, and he did just that, bringing it to his lips to sloppily kiss your palm. 

“Oh… I love you…” you sighed dreamily, the shocks of your orgasm calming down. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he said. “So much, princess.”

With his hands on your hips again, he flipped you around until you lay on your back, legs split open and ready to receive him once more.

His cock teased you, sliding up and down your wet slit. Globs of your arousal dotted his length, causing it to glisten in the faint light of the dying lantern. 

“Look at that cock,” he said. “You got me all messy… I gotta get you messy now.”

He entered you swiftly, filling you up more than ever before as his cock swelled to its thickest, longest state, reddened and so close to expelling his cum.

With just a few hard, deep thrusts, and some guttural whimpers of his own, he began leaking inside of you just before he tugged himself out.

“Shit,” he grunted, pulling on his cock with great speed until he spurted his cum all over your stomach. His eyes clenched shut, his lips agape, and his chest huffing and puffing, white strings of liquid expelled from his tip, sprinkling your abdomen and breasts in hot, cloudy globs of semen. 

He pumped his hand king after there wasn’t anymore to come out, but he still felt the need to touch himself, especially with the image of you below him, messy and covered in his cum.

“That feel good?” he panted.

“Mhm,” you mumbled with a giggle. “So good…”

Despite how lovely it looked on you, he quickly wiped the mess off your belly, then covered you with blankets (even some he’d stolen from Merle’s bed) to keep you warm. 

His arms held you tight, your head resting happily on his chest as his hand absentmindedly stroked your hair. Soon the lantern died out, and you fell into darkness with him, but you weren’t scared. In fact, you were the least scared you’d been in a long time. You felt safe, cared for, loved.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

“No,” you replied with a giggle. “I told you, it didn’t hurt. You couldn’t even hurt me if you tried, pumpkin.”

He rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t pretend he didn’t love his special pet name. Oh, you made him so, so soft. 

“How’s your foot?” he asked, suddenly remembering your injury. “Shit, I gotta change the bandage.”

He sat up briefly, preparing to rise to his feet to fetch the first aid kit, but your hand upon his chest quickly stopped him. Soft as your touch was, it was strong in that you could control him with just a simple graze of your fingertips.

“It’s fine,” you said. “You can do it in the morning. Hold me.”

His lips quirked sweetly. “That’s what I do best,” he said, and pressed a short, sweet kiss to your forehead, causing your eyelids to flutter in appreciation. “Love you, bunny… My sweet bunny.”

Your heart skipped a beat, as it usually did when he spoke to you like that, so gentle and kind. As much as you found his aggressive nature exciting, it was his soft side that really got you in the end.

“Love you, too, Daryl.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Ficrecs

Check out my own fics here

Slow Hands (Bucky version) by @heli0s-writes Male masturbation

In the Embers by @wkemeup Bucky finds his burdens weigh a little less when he’s with you

Electric by @buckys-darling Flirtationship has a different meaning with Bucky, and his patience doesn’t last long when it comes to you.

The Push and the Pull by @delaber

There’s nothing Bucky wants more than to be with you - and for that reason alone, he has to break both your hearts

Little Lion Man by @wkemeup Sent on an assignment back to 1943, you encounter a drastically different version of the man you know

Here's Lookin' at you Kid by @boxofbonesfic Kitchens are loud and hot, but you’ve never minded that. Never minded the burnt fingers, and cut hands. What you do mind is Chef Barnes, the cocky talent that put Black Adder Brewery on the map. You’re even less used to hating someone quite this much, but you’re sure, somehow, you’ll manage—if you don’t stab him first.

Savage Love by @tumblin-theworldaway sleeping around, angst, implied smut

Answered Ask by @angrythingstarlight There is a scene [in 10 things I Hate about you] where the girl gets drunk and tries to kiss the guy. But he doesn't let her, tells her we should do this another time.

Understudy by @wkemeup Bucky knew after he’d ended things, you’d eventually move on. But when he’s confronted with the reality of you with another man, he’s certain it will tear him apart

The Things we Carry with us by @pellucid-constellations You were injured on a mission and didn’t tell anyone, leaving your already rocky relationship with Bucky crumbling. Was it really hate he harbored for you, or was it something else?

Play Pretend, Part 1 and Part 2 by @wkemeup When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help

Sunrise Masterlist by @wkemeup After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is discharged from active duty and sent back to civilian life. Left with a storm of unchecked guilt, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU)

The Mess I Made by @wkemeup you may not be on the best terms with Bucky Barnes, but it doesn’t stop you from coming to his defense

Wait 'til I give you a Sign by @ambrosiase Inspiration: “you do make me hard, but she makes me weak” — be my mistake by the 1975

Baby Fever by @jurassicbarnes In which Bucky can’t figure out why he feels so restless when everything is perfect in his life… until he does.

Just Wanna Feel Your Lips by @ambrosiase Inspiration: “and i promised myself, i wouldn’t let you complete me” — is there somewhere by halsey

How She Loves by @cupidsbarnes Sometimes Bucky will catch glimpses of who he used to be in the mirror. They’re like silent movies that play as he stares at his reflection. A boy with bright eyes and even brighter smiles that can only see the good in the world. He’s struck with how warm he used to be when these memories play. Then he blinks and they’re gone, all that’s left is a cold man staring back at him whose eyes appear empty and smiles have almost disappeared.

Fireworks by @wkemeup Bucky Barnes doesn’t do crowds. He certainly doesn’t do fireworks. But he’d follow you just about anywhere.

Lavender by @wkemeup Not every nightmare is the same and Bucky doesn’t always wake up as the man you know.

Metanoia by @gogolucky13 In the last stages of his recovery, Bucky goes on a spiritual retreat where he meets you, and finds more of himself along the way.

Pride and Privacy Masterlist by @adrinktostopyourthirst Bucky works on himself as he gets used to a roommate. Turns out, she has a much better room than him and he crossed the line.

The Other Side of the Door by @wkemeup Bucky would do anything to keep you safe. Even if it meant sacrificing himself. Even if it took him to the bottom of the ocean.

Anonymous Ask by @writerlyhabits Not to be horny on main, but do you think Bucky would be good at eating 🐈🐱???

Anonymous Ask by @becca-e-barnes Thinking about being Buckys ex but both of you love each other . You have kept a friendly relationship with one another and you’re talking at a party , sitting in front of each other , and you’re looking so deep into each other’s eyes and you realize how stupid you’ve been for letting each other go

Mean it by @gogolucky13 You and Bucky get trapped overnight in the safe house after a mission. Everything should be okay, except he’s your ex and thanks to his carelessness, the situation gets a little more complicated.

Graveyard Masterlist by @buckyownsmylife The one where you’re Steve’s girl but he likes to watch you and Bucky fuck like he’s not there.

A Little Help by @captainsimagines Bucky’s been having difficulties in a certain… department. He’s at a loss, completely ready to give up until he starts theorizing. If you have the ability to heal people, maybe you can help him out. Maybe you’ll be able to fix him.

Sanctified by @sergeantxrogers Bucky Barnes’ holy grail and safe haven are your body and soul, and after getting a taste of them, he finally knows what it means to be a sinner.

Anonymous Ask by @howdoyousleep3 Bucky learning to touch

And the High Won't Fade Here by @charnelhouse She saves Bucky. She saves Rick. There’s always a cost though.

Wicked Games Masterlist by @summerofsnowflakes You need to give him up, but it’s just too good to stop

Honey and Chamomile by @wkemeup Four cups of tea, four distinct moments in time, and each pulls you in closer beyond the walls surrounding Bucky’s heart

Satisfied by @adrinktostopyourthirst Drunk sex with Bucky

What I Hate About You by @sidepartskinnyjeans When Bucky comes back from Wakanda Steve has a girlfriend and Bucky hates her. But hate is a very strong word.

Snow Masterlist by @delaber

Tired of your constant bickering, Sam sends you and Bucky on a mission alone. When the worst possible outcome happens and you’re forced to spend several days together in a small cabin, you finally get to see a different, more pleasurable side to the man whose flesh you’ve always had a thorn in