Summary: F! Reader can’t help but cry during sex with Daryl
Warnings: Smut with no plot, reader is crying (not bawling just tears up), pet names (baby)
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“S’alright, baby… jus’ breathe… I got you.”
His voice was low, hoarse—like he was barely holding himself together. But all he cared about was you—the way your pretty eyes brimmed with tears, lip trembling as your body shuddered under his.
“D-Daryl—” your voice cracked, tears sliding down your cheeks as another wave hit you, your thighs trembling around his waist. “I can’t feels too good..”
That broke him. He stilled deep inside you, chest heaving as he cupped your face, thumb swiping away your tears so gently it almost hurt.
“Shh… y’can, baby… I know it’s a lot, but you’re takin’ me so good. So fuckin’ good. Look at me, yeah?”
You forced your watery gaze up, and Daryl’s heart damn near stopped. “Ain’t never seen anything so pretty, cryin’ for me like that…” he whispered, pressing kisses against your cheeks tasting those sweet, desperate tears.
“I ain’t hurtin’ ya, am I?” he asked. You shook your head fast, choking out,
“No… jus’ feels so good…”
His breath caught. Rough hands cupped the back of your head, “Fuck… y’don’t even know what that does to me princess…”
Slow, deep thrusts now, lips on yours like he was trying to kiss every sob out of your throat. “I got you… always. Let it out baby… I’m right here.”
Having experienced both, I gotta say the difference between men’s bathroom and women’s bathroom in bars is hilarious. Like the girls are there borrowing lipstick from some lady they just met and having a full-on three-to-one therapy session for someone crying on the floor. That none of them have met before just now, either.
In the men’s bathroom it’s full Dark Forest Theory. It’s quiet as hell in there, nobody’s going to look at you for long enough to contemplate whether you should be there, to avoid the risk that you might look back, catch eye contact and take it as him wanting to fight you. They’re just as scared of you as you are of them.
