dirty rough sex w/daryl after hunting i lost the ask i’m so sorry this isn’t proof read kinda just drabble ily tho whoever asked for it
you butt heads, both stubborn, sharp tongued and ruthless. hunting for days on end, god, it’s tiring. you’re both gross, covered in dirt, blood and sweat.
“wouldn’a been so long if you’d just stuck to the trail—“ you spat, slapping your hat onto the table.
“don’t you fuckin’ blame me,” daryl’s quick to bite back. “ain’t my fault you damn near got yourself killed an’ threw us off course.”
you scoff, “oh, this is not my fault, you prick.”
arguing tended to go from verbal to physical. just… not in the way you’d assume with two people like this. both hardened, both brute, tough.
you’re shoving your finger in his chest, barking about how he was getting sloppy. daryl was seconds away from shoving you onto the wood floor.
“coulda done more by myself, yunno that?” he was practically daring you to take it further.
you get quiet, jaw clenched. daryl can tell where this is going. you see it in his eyes.
that’s how you end up against the kitchen counter, pants shoved halfway down, daryl’s lips on your neck. he’s grabbing at your hips, snarling in your ear, grinding his arousal up against you guiltlessly.
“that what you want, huh?” he grunts, unbuckling his belt with one hand. “to get fucked? that what’ll make you behave?”
“nothin’ll get me to behave, an’ you know it,” you snicker.
you don’t get far before daryl’s flipping you onto your stomach, pressing down on the small of your back, bending you in half like a doll.
“shut the fuck up, goddamnit,” he barks. “you never shut up.”
“please, don’ act like you don’t love it.”
he’s sliding his cock along your cunt, getting it wet before shoving himself inside you without warning. you suck in through your teeth, feeling that stretch, but don’t dare whimper. don’t dare admit to the slight sting.
“aha,” daryl growls, grinning wickedly as he bottoms out. “feel ya tensin’ up. don’t fuckin’ move.”
he smacks your ass. you gasp, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from whining.
his thrusts are brutal, no mercy. he gets you moaning in no time, his rhythm purely for his benefit.
“now you’re all quiet, ah?” he taunts you. “can’t talk much with my dick inside ya. pathetic.”
“fuck… you, dixon,” you snarl, your back arching traitorously.
“ain’t i doin’ that? what, not enough?” he mutters in your ear, groping your ass before spanking it again.
he pounds you into the counter, dragging you up by your hair and grunting like an animal as he drives himself closer to the edge.
“should i cum in you?” he sneers, breathless. “i could… could fuckin’ make you regret ever bitchin’ at me. could make you real quiet, all full and stupid.”
“fuckin’ hate you,” you croak, voice hoarse. “shut the fuck up.”
