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Daryl Dixon was on a run when he found it. A battery-operated dildo that vibrated. He threw it in the junk to bring to Alexandria. There were plenty of people who’d like it. All the women in town were pent up. In fact, he only had good intentions when he found the box. But halfway to the truck, he put it in his bag, not for himself, of course, but he didn’twant it making its way into the inventory to be fought over.
He was unloading into the inventory storage room early morning when they got back. He was half in a box when Eudora came in. She was a little older than he was, and if he hated anyone in this town? It was her.
He’d tried- like Rick wanted him to, but the bitch was refusing any kindness or happiness. Everyone else could see it too; it wasn’t like it was just him. She was just a cranky old hag.
She had short black hair, that she styled about two decades older than her, and she always wore that old dress. She looked straight out of an old black and white film.
He was all for understanding when someone was upset- or just felt wronged by the world. Hell, he felt the same way; the world was shit, and sometimes it was hard not to reflect it. But he drew the line when people were mean to kids. Andsince all the kids called her "Cranky Dora," it’s safe to say she never showed them any kindness either.
"Good morning," She said stiffly as she went to a box to organize things on the shelves. It was her job more than it was his, but he liked to let Aaron run off and see Gracie first thing, so it was falling more on him lately.
"Mornin’," Daryl mumbled, not paying her any mind. It was early still, and he was tired, not really in the mood for her nagging.
"You’re putting the socks next to the shoes?" Eudora said, "I don’t know why you insist on doing a job you’re not capable of."
She hip bumped him out of the way, and Daryl stumbled away. "Seriously?" He scoffed, "Shoes and socks are practically married to each other."
She sent him an odd look. "Items cannot marry."
"Obviously- it’s an expression, alright? Just tell me where they go, I don’t need an explanation."
She kicked the box toward him. "Socks go next to the underwear in the front."
Daryl picked up the box and took it to the front. He took his time, too, placing each sock one by one. She wanted him to do it her way? Fine. He made sure all the socks were lying flat next to each other, like she had already placed them. Eventhough a box of rolled-up socks was far more convenient to grab and go.
He took the empty box and walked to the back. He sat down and started pulling out jeans into a singular box; he knew that was a category. Once he got most of them, he picked them up to haul to the front, but she grabbed his arm.
"Where do you think you’re going with that?"
"Clothes are in the front, ain’t they?" Daryl asked, annoyed.
She furrowed her brows and took the box away. "That’s not how this is organized- if you’re going to be a nuisance, I’drather wait for Aaron."
Daryl tsked and turned on his heel. He was going to take her up on her offer. That is, until he remembered Rick saying she was just lonely.
He didn’t understand why naggy bitches got an excuse, but he did understand that if someone went hunting with him and started messing shit up without listening, that put them in the wrong. He supposed he could try.
He turned back around, just as she set the box of jeans down next to a different shelf.
"Alright," Daryl said, taking a breath, "Tell me yer system I ain’t gonna shit on it,"
She scrunched up her nose. "Well, for one, stop being so crude; there’s no need."
Daryl resisted an eye roll, and she continued with a satisfied nod. "The jeans and shoes aren’t something most people replace or need daily. Socks and underwear? Lost in the abyss in this town, so they go in the front,"
He supposed the made sense, the more common items their town replaced or needed were the easiest accessible. Henodded, "Makes sense."
She smiled- and to be honest, it looked good on her. She should do it more. Though out of experience he knew not to tell women that… but he could handle a slap today.
"You should smile more. Looks good on you,"
She didn’t react like most would, with that immediate grimace or disgust. Not even that awkward smile where they just didn’t want to deal with you.
She tucked a non-existent strand of hair behind her ear and turned away. "Oh,"
Daryl stood there, more confused than anything, and decided to just get back to work. She continued to nag him, but he was a little more tolerant now that he knew the system of the shelves. It felt less like she was complaining about everything he did just because he was doing it. Her nagging had dialed back, but it wasn’t gone. Every so often, she’d toss out a comment about how he folded the towels wrong or stacked a box too sloppily. Daryl bit his tongue, focusing on the task, but her voice still grated on him like sandpaper. She was less vicious today, though. Progress, maybe.
"These children," Eudora mumbled under her breath as she folded the disarrayed children’s shirts, "They do it on purpose, I swear," She muttered.
Daryl rolled his eyes. She was toeing at that line again, one he didn’t feel like anyone was allowed to cross. Kids were little shits, sure, but cursing at them to get off your lawn always felt like an asshole move.
"You should only get plain shirts for them, then they wouldn’t tear through my piles," Eudora said in a clipped tone.
"Definitely," Daryl said, "While I’m fighting off walkers, I’ll make sure only to grab grey uniforms like yours. Make sure to dull those little lights,"
Eduora shot him a glare. "You know what I mean."
Daryl scoffed lightly, still folding towels in the ‘correct way’. "Do I? These kids barely got toys, they can have a shirt with some comic character on it,"
Eudora looked away from him with a huff, still fixing the piles.
"You know they call ya Cranky Dora for a reason." Daryl said, "You could try being nice for once, a lot more fun than being a bitch,"
Her face flushed, lips pursing tight as her glare shot daggers at him. "That’s a horrible thing to say. I’m not a bitch. Ijust… people do everything wrong. If I could do it all myself, things would be better."
He rolled his eyes, tossing a folded towel onto the stack. "Fine, not a bitch then. Just cranky." He drawled the word, letting it drip with mockery.
Eudora’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t bite back as hard as usual. "I’m not cranky," she mumbled, her voice quieter, almost defensive. "People are just… incompetent. If they’d listen, things would run smoothly."
"Sure, Dora," Daryl snorted,
"It’s Eudora," She corrected, her tone shooting back to sharp.
Daryl shook his head as he grabbed another box to unpack. He didn’t have the energy to argue her logic. She’d always have an excuse, always some reason the world was wrong and she was right. They worked quietly for a while, only talking to point out what he was doing wrong or to nag him that he wasn’t doing it well enough.
As they finished up, Daryl grabbed his pack by the door and remembered the box that he had shoved in there before the run. The dildo. He grabbed it, intending to give it to Rick and Michonne or something- but he had no idea how the hell he’d bring that sort of thing up. Probably anonymously in the room, he didn’t want to. Rick and Michonne rarely got luxuries other than first dibs on toothpaste. They felt like it wasn’t fair to the group.
Even if that was still true… he glanced at Eduora. Maybe it’d shut her up, or at least give her something else to focus on. He pulled it out, the batteries taped to the side. Without overthinking it, he tossed it onto the table between them, the box landing with a dull thud.
"Maybe this’ll help you be less cranky," he said, already half turning.
Her eyes widened, with shock and fury finding a home across her face. "What in the world, Daryl?" she snapped, her cheeks burning. "You’re disgusting. Get that thing out of here." She gestured to flick it away, but didn’t touch the box as if it was dirty.
He shrugged, already heading for the door. "Suit yourself. Just thought you could use it." He didn’t look back, leaving her standing there, fuming, the box still on the table.
————————————
Eudora’s heart pounded as she glared at the obscene picture of a woman moaning and a small picture of the disgusting item on the box. Her hands shook with anger and humiliation, maybe, or worse, curiosity.
Daryl was a crude, infuriating buffoon, always pushing her buttons, always acting like he knew better. She wanted to chuck the damn thing in the trash. But her fingers hesitated as she reached for it. She glanced at the door, half-expecting him to barge back in, laughing at her. He didn’t.
She snatched the box, shoving it into her bag with a huff. No way was she leaving it here for someone else to find. Shestormed out of the storage room, telling herself that’s all it was. She couldn’t have those tornadoes of children running in here and finding it after all.
By the time she reached her small house on the edge of Alexandria, her anger had cooled slightly, but that heat lingered, low in her belly. She practically ran to her bedroom, locking the door and double-checking the bolt. She drew the curtains tight, ensuring no one could see inside, and lit a candle to see. Finally, she sat down on the edge of her bed with the box sitting on the nightstand. She watched it for a long moment, as if it were a bomb.
She shouldn’t even be considering this. It was vulgar, shameful. She didn’t have time for nonsense like this. But the ache between her legs was undeniable, a nagging pulse that had been there for weeks, maybe months. And Daryl’s stupid face kept creeping into her mind. His rough hands, she could still feel on her shoulder when he pushed her out of the way like an oaf. His gravelly voice is complaining. About whatever he managed to complain about, the way he’d called her Dora just to get under her skin.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm the flush creeping up her neck. "Get a grip," she muttered to herself, but her eyes kept darting to the box. She tore it open, the plastic crinkling so loudly she felt for sure people across town would hear her.
She rid the thing of its plastic prison, added the batteries, and held it in her hand. The dildo was heavier than she expected, smooth and sleek, with a small button on the base. She pressed it, and it buzzed to life, the vibration making her jump. Her cheeks burned, but she couldn’t look away.
She’s on her knees in front of Daryl, his rough hands tangled in her hair, guiding her head as she takes him into her mouth. His cock is thick, hot, stretching her lips as he thrusts shallowly, his voice a low growl. "That’s it, Dora," he taunts, knowing the nickname pisses her off. "Suck it like you mean it." She glares up at him, but her pussy throbs, slick with want, as he fucks her mouth harder, his grip unrelenting. He pulls her off, yanking her to her feet, and bends her over the table, ripping her dress up to her hips. His fingers find her soaked, and he laughs, rough and mean. "Knew you were wet for me, you cranky bitch." He slams into her, his cock filling her pussy in one brutal thrust, making her cry out.
She gasped, shaking her head to clear the image. "Stop it," she whispered in a shaky voice. But her body wasn’t listening. Her panties were already damp, her thighs pressing together as she sat there, the dildo still buzzing in her hand. She stood and walked to the bathroom; she would have to wash it first.
After she cleaned both her hands and the toy with soap, she stripped off her dress, letting it fall to the bathroom floor. Shewalked briskly to her bed and covered herself with her blanket.
She tried to remind herself that her door was locked, her curtains drawn. No one but she could see her in this moment.
Slowly, she peeled the blanket away and lay back on her bed, the dildo still in her hand. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she guided it lower. The vibrations of the toy started up when she pressed the button, and she pressed it tentatively against her neglected clit.
He’s got her pinned beneath him now, her wrists trapped in one of his calloused hands above her head. His other hand grips her thigh, spreading her wide as he fucks up into her ruthlessly. "Fuck, Dora, you feel so fuckin’ good," he growls, his hips snapping against hers, his cock hitting deep, making her moan. She’s helpless under him, her body arching, begging for more. He leans down, biting her neck, his voice rough in her ear. "You’re mine, you know that?" She comes undone, screaming his name as her pussy clenches around him, her orgasm ripping through her.
She jerked the toy away from her clit, denying her the finish line. Oh, how disgusting a mind can be when under the influence of pleasure.
"Back to reality," she panted, her chest heaving. The shame was still there, but it was drowned out by the need coursing through her. She slid the dildo down, closer to her leaking pussy. She bit her lip, stifling a moan, and eased it in, her slickness making it glide inside easily. It wasn’t Daryl, but god, she could pretend. She worked it slowly at first, then faster, her hips bucking as she imagined his rough hands, his dirty talk, his cock stretching her open.
He was an asshole, and she didn’t like him at all. He was so mean even in her imagination. Everyone in this town was mean to her. She didn’t know why doing things the correct way was so difficult for them. But then she remembered she was the one with power here, in her bedroom with no one around.
She could pretend all she wanted,
She’s straddling Daryl on her bed, the same one she’s in right now. His hands were gentle on her hips, not the rough grip she had imagined before. His eyes, usually sharp with mockery, are soft, fixed on her face as she moves above him. "Fuck, Eudora, that smile," he murmurs, his voice low and warm, not a hint of his usual taunt. "So damn pretty when you smile like that." His fingers trace up her sides slowly, tickling, as he thrusts up into her, steady but not harsh, his cock filling her perfectly. She gasps, her pussy clenching around him, and he groans, his hands cupping her face now, thumbs brushing her lips. "Keep smilin’ for me, darlin’, keep bouncin’ on my cock,"
Even in her mind, she shivers at his vulgar words.
His hips are rolling in a rhythm that makes her tremble, her body melting under his praise. Somehow she’s sitting on top of him, but he’s the one in charge. The one guiding the rhythm that is her toy, but in her mind, it’s all him. He’s not mean, not in here, just worshipful, every thrust and touch telling her she’s beautiful, wanted, perfect.
Eudora’s entire body tightened as her pussy fluttered around the buzzing gift of a toy. The orgasm hit so perfectly, like years of pent-up being washed away, her body convulsing, a loud moan tearing from her throat. She rode it out, the dildo buried deep, until she collapsed, trembling, sweat slicking her skin.
She lay there, panting, the dildo discarded beside her. The constant irritation that usually gnawed at her was gone, replaced by a strange, buzzing calm. Maybe Daryl’s stupid gift wasn’t such a bad idea. She almost laughed at the thought.
A sharp knock on her door snapped her out of it, her heart lurching. She bolted upright, panic flooding her as she stared at the door and flew to cover herself with the blanket. Another knock, louder, more insistent. She scrambled, shoving the dildo under her pillow, her cheeks still flushed from her release.
"Who’s there?" she called, her voice was unsteady and cracking. Who could it be? Who in the world would have worse timing?
Daryl’s voice was on the other side, "Eduora?"