Daryl Dixon has a praise kink, and I am abusing it. Also, I might come back and edit this at some point. Enjoy!
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Warnings: Smut (18+), sub!daryl, inexperienced!daryl, loss of virginity implied, soft dom!reader, female reader, praise kink, use of 'good boy', unsafe sex (please use protection irl friends), crying during sex, very light overstim
“Ain't gonna be good at this,” Daryl mumbled, already hovering over the top of you, shirtless and sweaty. The flush you’d thought looked so pretty on him spread distractingly down his chest.
"No, no, you're doing—fuck—you're doing great. So good, baby,” you panted. Reaching up, you pried his hand away from the blanket he'd been white-knuckling, running it down your body until it rested between your legs. You rolled your hips slowly, allowing him to feel the gathering wetness. His eyelids fluttered lightly at the contact.
"Hell, woman, you're tryin' to kill me," he said. His voice cracked. Nerves or anticipation, you couldn't tell. You smiled anyway, soft and warm. This was further than you'd ever gotten without him clamming up or cumming in his pants before you could get them off. Honestly, you were proud of him.
"Feel how wet I am?" you continued as though he'd said nothing at all. "It's all because of you, Daryl. Because you're making me feel so good."
"Fuck, really?" he rasped, hips canting helplessly.
"C'mere," you said, tugging him gently by his belt loops. He shuffled closer, awkward but enthusiastic, moving on unsteady limbs.
"Now we get your pants off," you said.
"Right, yeah, lemme—” He fumbled with the button of his pants, barely managing to pop it open and having even less luck with the zipper. You very nearly laughed before forcing it down.
The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were laughing at him. You weren't. Not really. There was just something so charming about this big, gruff man who you'd watched take down walkers and game alike without so much as a blink, blush and pant like a teenager all because of you. Little old you. God, you were lucky. When you were sure the threat of your laughter had passed, you took his hands gently in your own and pushed them aside. You could feel the hitch in his breathing more than you could hear it as you pulled the zipper open and tucked your fingers into the waistband of his underwear.
"This okay?" you asked, looking up at him. Part of you was waiting for him to pull away, overwhelmed and shy for one reason or another. Instead, you found him staring back, intense, with a puppy-like desperation to please.
"Fuckin' great, just—just...please," he said, voice going quiet and whiny. A little thrill shot up your spine.
"Jesus, Daryl, you're trying to kill me," you breathed.
With that, you pulled his underwear down and let his cock spring out. Nearly identical small, punched-out sounds left both of you. Equal parts relief and excitement. Hitching your legs up around his hips, you pulled him even closer, guiding his tip to your entrance. The wet slide made you both moan. Suddenly, he was curling against you, dropping his burning face onto your shoulder.
"Ahhhh, FUCK! I can't—shit—m'sorry," he whined, bucking his hips, cock sliding against your folds, catching your clit with every thrust.
"Shh," you hushed shakily. Petting his hair, you fought to rein in your scrambled thoughts as pleasure coursed through you. One of you needed to be in control, and it wasn't about to be him.
"Ain't gonna last," he said.
"I ain't. Fuck, m'sorry!" The slick sound of his own erratic thrusts and your shaky moans only seemed to spur him on.
"You will. You wanna keep making me feel good, right?" you asked. He nodded, hair tickling your face.
"Then I need you to be a good boy for me and wait. Can you do that for me, baby?" you asked, keeping your voice sweet but firm. A pathetic sound clawed its way out of his chest, the kind you didn't think he was capable of making, but his hips slowed.
"Yeah, m'good. I'll be good," he panted.
"I know you will," you said, reaching between your bodies to grip his cock again. He shuddered, but held still while you guided him back to your entrance.
"Can I move?" he asked. Painfully sweet insecurity bled through his question, as if he were at a total loss for what to do.
You tightened your leg across the small of his back, drawing him into you with a wicked little smile.
As he pushed into you, you decided then and there that all other men were ruined for you. No one ever had or ever would measure up to Daryl Dixon. Not for his prowess, but for this. The mix of his broken, heady groan and palpable desire for you and only you was enchanting. Intoxicating. Bordering on a religious experience. You pressed messy kisses to his scarred shoulder and hoped he could feel the praise in each one. When he finally burried himself to the hilt, he held himself there, quaking in your arms.
"There you go," you whispered between kisses.
"How's that feel, baby?" you asked. He let out a half-delirious little sob.
"Feels—oh shit you're tight—feels...I dunno," he babbled. You knew exactly how he felt.
"God, your cock is perfect. Filling me just right," you said, breathless. Squeezing around him, you moaned quietly in his ear.
"Shit, don't! Ain't gonna last if you keep doin' that," he warned.
"Don't need you to last now, baby. Just need you to fuck me," you said, soothingly, stroking his hair.
Whatever thread had been holding his last scrap of control together snapped. Wrapping himself around you, he practically pinned your arms to your sides, driving into you like a man unhinged. No rhythm. No set pace. Just chasing pleasure in a primal way that made your stomach flip. Whining, he mouthed at your neck, teeth scraping a little too roughly, but you were too close to care. The feeling snuck up on you dizzyingly fast. The telltale coiling in your stomach. You clamped down around his cock, throwing your head back.
"Squeezin' me so damn tight. Oh fuck, are you cummin'?" Daryl asked. His genuine, reverent awe tipped you over the edge.
Pleasure ripped through you with blinding intensity as your pussy fluttered in odd little patterns. You howled, heels digging into the small of his back as you thrashed and bowed your way through a seemingly endless orgasm. You weren't sure you'd ever stop cumming, even as your limbs went a little numb and your thoughts evaporated. The world around you disappeared save for Daryl's wild thrusts and needy babbling you couldn't make sense of in your fuzzy mind. Though after a minute, your orgasm ebbed and you forced yourself to focus on his words.
"'M I doin' it right?" he asked.
Turning your head, you burried your face in his sweat-damp hair, nuzzling softly at his ear. It was as much as you could give him with your arms pinned to your sides. You scraped your teeth against his earlobe, trying to find words in your muddled brain as his cock pounded in your hypersensitive pussy. Delicious overstimulation prickled over your heated skin, high moans pouring out of your mouth instead of the words you'd meant to say.
"Please talk to me. Like it when you talk to me," he said. Some half-door in your brain opened for him, and finally your brain reconnected with your mouth.
"Good boy," you whispered shakily.
"Yeah, 'm your good boy," he whined.
"I'm so proud of you, baby. Lasted so long for me," you said. He sobbed, arms tightening around you. He was close. You knew without him having to say it. Tears ran in hot trails down the side of your neck as he fucked into you hard enough to scoot you both up the bed. You cried out with every thrust, though your voice was overshadowed by Daryl's high ah-ah-ah's.
"Gonna cum. Can I? Please? Inside?" he begged.
"That's it. Go on. Cum in me, baby. Be a good boy and fill me up," you said, verging on begging yourself.
He went silent. For a split second, you were worried that something was wrong. Then his mouth opened against your shoulder, a strangled gasp tumbling out as his body locked up and a sudden heat flooded you. He was cumming with stiff, uneven jerks of his hips until you could feel his head loll like it was over. Slowly, he started to pull out of you, and you relaxed against him, rubbing your nose into the space where his neck met his shoulder.
Your body spasmed at the unexpected motion. A new wave of pleasure washed over you. Too intense. Too sharp. Too much. The sound that burst out of you was high and animal. You sunk your teeth into the meat of his shoulder without meaning to, looking for a way to deal with the new onslaught of sensation. Daryl made a sound that was half delirious panic and half sobbing. He fucked into you like he couldn't help it, hiccuping like he was in pain.
"'M sorry. Can’t stop," he whimpered.
"Don't," you gasped, "Don't stop."
"Too much—shit—’s too much!" His body said otherwise. Another cry tore from his chest as he sped up impossibly. The wet, heavy slapping where your bodies met was obscene. So loud you wondered if people could hear you outside.
"Good boy. Fuckin' me so good," you said.
Another orgasm was building quickly. You felt like you were on fire, something molten racing through your veins that made your back arch. Daryl was right. It was too much. And you loved every second of it. Twitching, you fought unsuccessfully to pry your arms out of his grasp so you could hold onto him. You needed something to ground you. There was nothing. Just Daryl's endless pounding and sharp spikes of pleasure.
"Gonna cum again," Daryl panted.
"Fuck, please. Wanna feel it. Bein' so good f'you."
Suddenly, you were cumming again. Blood rushed in your ears, your abused pussy clenched around Daryl's cock, and you lost all connection with your limbs as they writhed and twitched. A flood of heat filled you for the second time, and you knew somewhere in your dim thoughts that Daryl was cumming too. Both of you rocked through the aftershocks, neither quite all there in the wake of your orgasms.
"Holy shit, Daryl," you said when you finally remembered how to use your mouth.
"Yeah," you laughed, "Mmm, to you too."
"Was that—did ya—was that good?" he asked, insecurity lacing every word. You heard the underlying question. The real one.
Wiggling your arms out of his lax grip, you pulled him the rest of the way down beside you. He went easily. Gentle shifting brought him into a comfortable position with his cheek smooshed against your chest. You carded your fingers through his hair, smiling at his red, tear-streaked face.
"You were perfect, Daryl," you said, cupping his cheek gently.
"Well, uh, good. That's real good," he said, cutting his eyes away and leaning his head into your hold.
"Really," you insisted, "That was the best sex I think I've ever had."
"Shuddup. Don't go blowin' smoke up my ass," he said. For all his grumbling, you could feel the smile he was trying to hide curve against your palm.
"Daryl, if you can make me cum twice, talking about 'ain't gonna be good at this', I can't fucking wait to see what you think good is supposed to be," you giggled. He snorted, nudging you with his knee.
"Yeah, yeah, don't go gettin' your hopes up," he said, snuggling up to you. You laughed, settling in with him, letting your tired body fully relax.
”Too late, baby. They're sky high. But you’ll be good for me then too, right?” you teased. The last thing you heard before dozing off was Daryl’s cute sputtering as he burried his face back into your shoulder.
