to get daryl into a comfortable enough headspace to even consider letting go of control, is no easy feat. getting a dixon to open up is like trying to break a brick wall with a plastic spoon. he’s hard-headed, stubborn and cold. so why do you have the feeling he’s a whimpering mess underneath it all?

it started on accident. you were looking for someone else, and frankly, daryl was the last man you wanted to run into. but on your hunt, you stumbled across daryl, leaning against a tree. a hand clasped over his mouth, muffling the whines as his other hand pumped his cock, leaking pre-cum all over the forest floor. what a mess, you thought. there’s no way that’s…

but oh, yes it was. daryl dixon, eyes watery and fluttering, hips bucking like a wild animal. shit, you’d never seen him so desperate. hell, you’d never seen him expressive at all, let alone gasping and moaning like a total man-whore.

of course, the show was short lived, as daryl came minutes after you found him. spurts of hot, white load spill onto the grass, and daryl’s soon huffing, puffing, flushed and guilty.

the image haunted you for weeks, plaguing your mind like a sick disease. of course, you let no one know what you saw. because hell, you’d be called a pervert for it, despite daryl being the one jerking it in the woods.

but it’s not an easy thing to get over. when you saw him wandering away from the crowd next, you had to follow. curious.

back against the tree, eyes fluttering, zipper pulled down. daryl was at it again, like a dog in heat. you didn’t know what to think, what might’ve gotten into him that made his libido spike—you weren’t even sure he could get it up before now—but something had him whipped.

which was all fine and dandy until you slipped and hit your face on a rock. blood pooled, spilling from your nose with a groan, one that had daryl pulling his pants up, stuffing his aching dick away as he saw you struggling.

“jesus H. christ,” daryl growled, before marching over. “the hell y’doin’?!”

you blinked, a goofy, messy grin on your face. “totally not watching you jack it,” you said bluntly.

daryl scowled, ready to rip you a new one. “oughta leave y’here to rot,” he grumbled.

“you oughta,” you spat, grass and dirt coming out of your mouth as you stood. “but you won’t.”

“says who?” the man snapped, glaring accusatorially.

“says the boner in your pants,” you replied with a shit-eating grin. “you ain’t just gonna leave yourself hangin’, are ya?”

daryl debating smashing your face into a tree. but lord knows he ain’t one to start something he can’t finish. instead, he stared at you with a beet red face, trying to process what just happened.

“are ya?” you repeated, taking a step closer.

daryl meant to move back, to lean away from you, but he was frozen. “shuddup,” he spat.

“nah,” you snickered, cupping his chin. “y’know what i think? heh… i think you wanna keep going. think you’d like an audience, someone to push you while you desperately try t’cum.”

daryl grumpily moved his head out of your hold, but felt his pants tighten further. goddamn, where did this side of you come from?

“c’mon, dar,” you cooed, smirking something fierce as you stepped even closer. “you know how irritable you’d be if you just… walked away? how pent up and stiff?”

you let your hand rub up and down his arm, feeling him shudder against your touch. damn, this man was a mess—a broken wreck who’d never been given an ounce of love in his life.

“i could help you,” you breathed, brushing your nose against his ear. “c’mon, jus’ lean up against the tree… let me help…”

you pushed him until his back hit the wood, and your fingers danced around his belt, mocking him. the man wanted nothing more than to bash your head in, to scream at you, call you a sick pervert and fuck off somewhere for the rest of the day.

unfortunately, he couldn't seem to move. he stood frozen, allowing your hands to undo his belt, unzip his fly. "damn," you snickered. "still hard as a rock, doll."

"don't fuckin' do that," daryl grumbled, looking away with a flushed face.

"why?" you cooed, licking a stripe up his neck as your hand wrapped around his aching cock slowly. "can't take it?"

"ain't no doll," the man spat.

you couldn't hold back a laugh. it was adorable, how shy he got like this. you never knew him to be hesitant, to be nervous. but here, now, with his cock in your hand, slowly stroking him... god, he was a wreck.

it was inevitable that he'd start giving in. soon, daryl's hips were bucking into your hand, nails digging into the bark, breath heavy. your hand moved faster, but not fast enough to give him what he needed. curse you and your taunting ways.

"fucker," daryl snarled, still unable to make direct eye contact.

"oh, c'mon," you purred, leaning in close. "you can do it, baby, c'mon. cum."

daryl shook his head. not because he didn't want to finish, but because christ, he was humiliated. and that fact only got him closer.

"f-fuck off," he growled.

you scoffed, hand slowing until it came to a stop. "heh. okay," you replied, letting go of his swollen dick.

daryl huffed in frustration, suddenly looking you dead in the eye, a hint of desperation hidden beneath the anger and irritation. "what..." he panted.

"you said to fuck off," you smirked, stepping back. "so... i'll go."

daryl let his head fall back against the tree, catching his breath. his dick was throbbing, twitching, uncomfortable in the cold air without a hand to grasp it, to keep it warm. daryl knew this game. he was going to have to admit it. kill me now, he thought.

"please..." he muttered under his breath, looking down in defeat.

"hmmm?" you leaned back in, mocking him with your expression. "what?"

daryl groaned, wiping his face and debating whether or not to go through with this. his own hand grasped his cock, desperately attempting to relieve that tension. but he knew what he wanted.

"please," he repeated more firmly. "jus'... fuckin'..."

he grunted, stroking faster. he had to. he couldn't stop now.

"you want... hm?" you tilted your head, eyes glazed over with lust as your hands traced his sides. "ohhh... you wanna cum, huh?"

"fuckin' please," daryl roared, heart pounding. "don' care anymore, just fuckin' do it, god, fuck-"

"shhh," your face moved into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. "relax, baby. let me take care of you..."

daryl sighed, a breath of relief, as you replaced his hand. slowly, you matched his pace, your grip god-sent. it was humiliating, horrendous and gut wrenching, being degraded like this. and yet, he was letting you do it.

“you got it,” you praised, squeezing him just right, letting your thumb swipe across the tip. “jus’ drippin’ for me, ain’t ya?”

daryl whined, nails digging into the tree bark. he felt his stomach churning, that familiar coiling. he almost wanted to draw it out, to feel your hand forever. but god, he needed to cum. his hips thrusted involuntarily, eliciting a snicker from your lips. he glared up at you through wet lashes, but you only went faster. he tensed, panting and gasping like a pathetic dog.

“gonna cum?” you breathed, biting his neck gently.

daryl only nodded.

“got it,” you smirked, moving at the perfect pace, just enough pressure. “go ‘head. cum for me.”

daryl’s head fell back, scraping his scalp on the rough wood of the tree. he didn’t even feel the sting, just the pounding in his chest and his balls tightening. “fuck, fuckin’, fuck, i’m–“

his words were cut off by a strangled snarl, something deep and primal as he let go. your hand slowed, but didn’t stop as you milked his orgasm out. he spilled onto the forest floor, tainting it with his seed as he wheezed, breathless.

“ohhh, there ya go,” you cooed. “so good for me, doll. so good. such a good boy.”

soon, your hand left his cock, and daryl nearly collapsed. his legs were jelly, mind blank. you looked over his disheveled appearance, how the sweat stuck strands of hair to his forehead. he looked utterly wrecked. it was beautiful.

daryl finally looked up at you, flushed and spent. “fuck… fuck you,” he grunted.

“you would,” was your only response.