#Daryl Peach

[mikesfilmtalk]

Revenge Tour: Splendid Ode to Theatre of Blood?

Revenge Tour seems like a splendid ode to Theatre of Blood. To those unaware, Theatre of Blood features Vincent Price. He plays a Shakespearean actor that critics have thrashed for years. Dame Diana Rigg is his daughter. The two enact very bloody, camp deaths for the insults. It is a comedy horror film that I adore. The Story Someone is killing film judges in the world of independent cinema.…

[the-dixon-effect]

Ain’t gonna have yer first drink be no damned peach schnapps.

[myhappylittlesideblog]

This is my favorite thing ever THIS IS MY FAVORITE THING I LOVE THIS I love every single piece of this you have HEALED ME WITH THIS peach peach peachhhhhhhhhh I have no words just screams this is the BEST

thinking about daryl giving you a nickname…

18+, mdni

AN: this was a midnight brain worm while i was working on something else, so just walk with me ok!

daryl wasn't really one for nicknames.

he'd never had one coming up, always just "daryl" or "merle's brother" or something else sneered and distasteful. that was fine with him. to daryl, nicknames were rooted in sarcasm and mean jokes.

it hadn't started any differently with you.

that day in the quarry way back, the morning after the walkers had attacked their people. daryl was already aggravated, sweaty and thinking about merle (alone and hurt and alone), and he didn't much like these fucking people anyway, so when you stood with glenn, insisting on a burial over burning, dried tear tracks on your face (those people were your people too. you were mourning with the rest of them), he didn't hold back, sneering "well ain't you just a fuckin' peach," and watching your face harden in the wake of his words.

daryl didn't mean for it to stick, but he found himself defaulting to the silly name anyway. first when he was annoyed at you. you were soft, unfit for the grime of this new world, then when he was poking fun, and eventually... something else.

in the cdc, with a hangover keeping you slumped over the table, "shoulda stayed out the bottle if ya couldn't handle it, peach."

over the long winter on the road, with barely any food or water, "keep up, peach, i ain’t gon’ carry you.”

in the prison, sharing shifts up in the watchtower (because you were sort of friends now) (because daryl felt almost rewarded when your eyes lit up at your nickname), "don't need to teach you on the bow, peach. you're just fine with a knife."

trapped in the train car in terminus, fussing over his injuries even though you could barely map him out in the dark, "peach. peach. quit it, ‘m alright."

the road to alexandria was long and brutal. 'peach' turned into your name and your name turned into silence. daryl was grieving, you were grieving, and the space between you felt like a chasm, dark and wide. finding that community was a blessing in disguise, not just for the group, but for you and daryl specifically. you came back together behind the walls, both unwilling to acclimate, but knowing you needed to try.

‘peach’ made its way back into circulation slowly and then so frequently that even the alexandrians began to catch on.

when daryl had to leave with aaron for a run, “later, peach. i’ll find ya after your shift.”

laughing over your assigned job, “the hell you know about gardenin’, peach? they shoulda put ya in the tower.”

inevitably your relationship shifted into something more intimate. it wasn’t a secret, hell, the group had seen it coming long ago.

‘peach’ stopped being a nickname and became a term of endearment. something daryl reserved for tender moments.

startling awake when daryl joined you in bed, late after a long run, “just me, peach, go back to sleep.”

when you came back from a run that turned dicey, a little worse for wear, “lemme see it, peach, i got ya.”

and in… other moments as well.

your body pressed firmly against daryl's, his lips a breath from yours, whispering, “tell me what ya need, peach. you know i’ll give it to ya.”

daryl laid between your legs, two fingers curling cruelly against your g-spot while you rode out your orgasm above him, “there ya go, peach, so fuckin’ good.”

daryl had never been one for nicknames, this fact held up even after the world ended. your own family was rarely on the receiving end of a playful moniker. but to him, ‘peach’ was easy as breathing and, to you, it sounded like “i love you” every time.

[dixons-sunshine]

Just Because | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

“What’s this?”

You shrugged at your partner’s question, a small, excited smile painted across your features. You kept the wrapped box extended towards him. “I don’t know. Why don’t you open it and find out?”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed at your ominous tone of voice, but he still reluctantly took the box from your hands. “There ain’t some spider in here that’s gon’ pop out and crawl all over me, s’there?” he questioned slowly, turning the box over in his hands a few times. “‘Cause if there is, m’gon’ catch it and then m’throwin’ it down yer shirt.”

You laughed and shook your head at him. “I promise there’s no living thing in there.”

Daryl’s eyebrow cocked at that. “So s’the head of a walker, s’it? Since it ain’t a livin’ thing?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “It’s an object, not something that’s alive or used to be alive. Trust me.”

Daryl hummed, sent you one last scrutinizing look and reluctantly opened the gift. When he peeled back the wrapping paper and opened the box, he couldn’t help the look of surprise that flickered across his face. He looked at you, a disbelieving look on his face. “S’that—”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a smile, walking forward to peer into the box. “It is.”

Daryl couldn’t believe his eyes. There was no way it was real. He gingerly reached into the box and pulled out the item—the one vital piece he needed to fix his bike. A piece he had struggled to find for weeks at that point in time. “Why?” he finally spoke up after a few moments of silence.

You instantly knew what he meant. Why did you do that for him. It amazed you that, even after five years together, the archer still struggled to comprehend that you did things for him just because. However, when it came to the man you loved, you’d remain patient for as long as he needed. You were aware of the fact that he hadn’t experienced much love in his life, and over the course of your relationship, you had been correcting that wrong.

“Just because,” you replied to his question, a smile on your face. “I had to pull some strings with the blacksmiths at the Hilltop, but I pulled it off. Now you have what you need for your bike. Now you can get your true love up and running again,” you joked.

Daryl chuckled at your joke. He shook his head, his hair framing his face in a way that thankfully hid the blush on his face. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? It was just you. He didn’t have to be nervous around you. However, his racing heart seriously contradicted his line of thought. “Yeah? Didn’t realize there was somethin’ ‘bout ya that needed fixin’.”

You chuckled fondly. “Touche, Dixon.” You looked up at him questioningly. “So I’m guessing you love it?”

Daryl nodded and placed the part down on the table, before moving forward and capturing you in a hug. “I do. S’amazin’. Seriously, jus’... thank ya.”

You wrapped your arms around him and placed a kiss to the side of his head. “Of course. Anything for you.”

A few beats of silence passed where the two of you simply stayed in one another’s embrace. That was, until Daryl muttered something into your ear. “How did I get so lucky with ya?”

You giggled and shrugged. “Must’ve cast a spell on me or something.”

Daryl chuckled. “Yeah, s’prolly it.” Another beat of silence passed. “I love ya, Peach.”

“I love you, Daryl. So, so much.”

[dix0nspretty]

Knives, Bikes, and Stitches, Oh My!

Summary: Daryl is working on his motorcycle and you watch. Too bad you can't keep your focus.

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader, 1.3k words

Era: Prison (again) because he's just so yummy...

TW: Mention of blood and stitches. Maybe chronic horniness?

Y'all loved my first story and I hope this one whets your appetites just as well! I have no idea how motorcycles or vehicles of literally any kind work, so please feel free to educate me in the comments.

You put the fear of God in Daryl every time he sees you with a knife.

It’s not that you can’t use one. On the contrary, you’re a force to be reckoned with when you’re fighting. Sometimes all that can be seen of you in a fight is the shine of blood-tinged metal as you slash and stab at whatever is attacking with your twin blades. No, your knives are comfortable and at home in your grip. Maybe too comfortable.

“How many times I got to tell ya to stop eatin’ off yer damn knife?” Daryl’s rough accent sounds out in the empty courtyard. His head is bowed low as he works on his bike, not looking up as he speaks.

I’m perched on the tabletop of one of the prison’s picnic tables eating a can of peaches. Daryl, for some reason unknown to me, had elected to start taking his bike apart and putting it back together and I followed along to watch the process. I don’t know shit about vehicles, much less motorcycles, but I like spending time with the grumpy man.

“It’s fine, I’m not gonna cut myself.” I tell him as I tilt my head down to drag a slice of peach off the blade. Daryl’s eyes don’t move from the work in front of him, but I can feel him watching me. I pull the chunk into my mouth and lick the blade clean of the sticky juice.

“Told ya to cut it out.” I’m eating the canned fruit haphazardly, not paying any attention to how close I am to the edge. Daryl shakes his head. He knows it’s a matter of time before I cut my lip or tongue.

At his repeated command, I roll my eyes but pull away from the edge of my knife. I set the can of peaches down and watch him. His brown hair is getting longer now and it’s sliding down into his eyes, shielding most of his face from my watchful gaze.

“What are you doing, anyways?” I ask. I scoot myself closer to the edge of the table and peer down over his shoulder. He has one of his tools in his hand and some pieces of metal I can’t identify. It is roughly the size of my fist and cylindrical. Whatever it is, it looks important.

Daryl glances over his shoulder, feeling my curious eyes looking down. He huffs and continues his task. “Workin’.”

“No shit. Working on what?” I’m playing with my knife in my fingers, absentmindedly twisting and flipping it. Daryl looks up at me through his hair, squinting one eye against the sunlight. My breath catches in my throat, and I try to play it cool.

“Do ya really want to know or are ya jus’ bored?” He asks in his gruff voice. I don’t answer for a second. He looks so pretty. Get a grip, Y/N, I think to myself.

“Really want to know. Come on, I don’t know anything about bikes. Teach me something.” Daryl squints at me for several seconds longer and I’m convinced he’s going to send me inside to bother someone else, but he slowly starts talking.

“’M cleanin’ the carburetor.” He tilts his hand up to show me the same piece I was looking at earlier. “It’s startin’ to get clogged.”

“Oooookay. What’s that do?”

“It keeps the engine runnin’ smooth, basically. Don’t keep it clear and that can fuck up the bike, make it stall or overheat. Gotta take it apart and clean it every few months.”

Daryl lets me watch over his shoulder as he points out different parts of the carburetor and how to clean them. After a few minutes, his gruff voice starts to fade out and my mind begins to wander.

He just looks so good. His hands are greasy and dirty from all of his work today and his biceps are sweaty from the Georgia heat. He’s wearing one of his simple black shirts that already fit him so well and the sweat is only making him look more delicious. I’m watching his hands work over the small brass jets when I feel burning heat in my palm and look down.

I’d been messing with my knife the entire time and cut myself. I instinctively let go of the blade and it hits the concrete with a harsh clang. Daryl’s head lifts at the noise and he spins around right as I rush to tuck both hands behind my back. I look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar and I’m trying to hide the chocolatey evidence. Except this time, it’s blood.

Daryl’s eyes run over me for a second, then flick down to my knife as it sits on the dirty floor. He slowly bends down and picks it up. “Y/N.” He starts, a low warning in his tone.

“It’s fine! I’m fine, I just dropped it.” My voice rambles out. There’s a high, nervous note to it and I’m hoping to God he doesn’t notice.

He raises an eyebrow. “If yer fine, why’s the knife got fresh blood on it?” Fuck.

“Uhhhhh.” I look around the courtyard, trying to find an excuse. I, naturally, see nothing. “Magic?”

Daryl huffs and crosses his arms. “Let me see your hands.”

I wince. I don’t want to get in trouble, but I can feel the blood dripping off my hand, and it stings. The longer I hold off showing him the angrier he’ll get.

“Y/N. Hand, now.” Daryl’s voice leaves no room for arguments.

“Jus’, don’t be mad?” I ask. He says nothing and I sigh, then slowly move my hands back in front of me. The blood is quickly evident on my skin.

“God damn it, girl. Why can’t ya ever listen to me?” Despite his rough tone, his hands are gentle as he takes my wrist and tilts my hand, inspecting the damage. I risk a glance at my hand. There’s a slash across my entire palm and more blood than there should be. It’s going to need stitches.

“Ya need stitches.” Told you.

 Daryl looks up from my hand but doesn’t let go of my wrist. His eyes lock with mine and he gives me a warm look. There’s exasperation and concern and I don’t know what to do with it. He takes a surprisingly clean rag from his pocket and ties it around my bleeding palm, firmly but not enough to hurt.

I can’t help but be surprised by just how gentle he’s being with me. I was expecting a pop in the side of the head and a banishment to Hershel’s cell. I look up at him through my lashes, waiting for my verbal lashing. After almost a minute, I realize there is none.

“Does this mean I gotta go in now?” I try to keep the potential disappointment from my voice and don’t entirely succeed.

“Yeah, yer going to go get those stitches. Ya weren’t listenin’ anyways.” He grumbles at me. “The hell were you doin’?”

I look away from him. I do not want to explain that I was too busy being horny over him to notice that I gouged my palm open. I risk a glance at him and I’m caught by those ocean-blue eyes.

“I was watching your hands…”

Daryl pauses, then snorts. “Maybe instead of watchin’ my hands ya should’ve been watching yours. Go get your damn stitches and I’ll show ya somethin’ else.”

[norman-fucking-reedus]

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

TRYING THESE GIFS AGAIN BECAUSE I HATE THIS DRABBLE WITHOUT THEM THEY ARE SO FUCKING YUMMY TUMBLR PLS JUST KEEP THEM UP

This is literally Daryl Dixon in his ELEMENT I CANT

These gifs just SCREAMM desperation, but not as desperate as the way that Daryl’s eager but gentle hands move to pin you down against the mattress, dropping his head down to taste you.

Oh, how badly he wanted to taste you.

He kissed and nibbled at your shoulder, climbing his way up to your pulse, dragging his tongue slowly across and feeling the way your heart pounded quickly. He dragged his tongue along the underside of your jaw, running down your throat and leaving a few hickies in his trail. Daryl made his way to your collarbones and ran the wet muscle over them, feeling the dips underneath before trailing down your chest, licking the space between your tits before running his tongue over one of the soft mounds, taking a moment to suck the pert nipple.

Daryl made his way over to your other nipple, giving it the same attention before running his tongue down your ribcage, feeling your bumpy bones underneath before gliding across the smooth skin of your stomach. He dragged his tongue down, kissing, sucking and marking the skin. You were like rich honey melting on his tastebuds, damn if he couldn’t get enough. He needed so much more, needed to taste so much more.

As he continued to decorate the pane of your stomach in mixed berry bruises, his hands needily groped at your waist as they ran down to the curve of your hip, hooking his fingers and tugging down your pants, only enough so that your V-line was exposed, which was in fact not enough. Daryl doesn’t stop himself from dragging his tongue along the sensitive skin there, licking and kissing along your waistline as he yanked at your pants.

When he leaned back and swiftly pulled them off, seeing the wet spot in your panties, something primal de-rails in his head.

Daryl feels like a starving predator who just got blessed with their next meal, gripping your hips as he buried his face right in your clothed cunt, groaning at the wetness before deeply inhaling your smell. He couldn’t wait for a taste, moving to hook his teeth over the hem of your underwear and dragging them down your long legs, the delicate fabric dangling from his mouth once they were off.

You move you grab them, but he dodged your hand, grabbing them with one of his one and moving to undo his pants, smiling pervertedly while taking his cock out and wrapping your wet spot right onto his tip, dropping back down between your thighs with a smirk before running a warm strip up your cunt, eyes almost rolling to the back of his skull as he tasted your pure sweetness drip on his tastebuds.

He slowly and firmly stroked the head of his cock as he swirled his tongue around your clit, bringing the bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucking hard, hardening his tongue as he rubbed in time with the quickening pace of his hand. His groans vibrated your core as your finger tangled in his hair, tugging and pull as you threw your head back moaning, “Fuck baby you use your tongue so well” Daryl pulled off your clit with an audible ‘pop’ and a small smile, “Only the best fer my woman” He whispered before dragging his tongue down your folds and slipping it into your entrance.

You clenched around him at the sudden intrusion, however he couldn’t stop himself from curling the muscle upwards, feeling and tasting the soft spot inside you.

He was nose deep in your cunt as he plunged his tongue as far as he could into you, stroking himself base to tip as he ate you out hungrily, needily lapping up your juices as he dare not to waste a single drop. You were the sweetest peach he had bitten into, and he simply couldn’t get enough, hand speeding up as his head only filled with the intoxicating taste of your body.

You were so close, with the way he dragged his tongue along the inside of your walls, curling and applying pressure in all the right spots, “M’so fucking close, Dar” He pulled his tongue out, but before you could complain, two thick digits slid carefully into you, quickly resuming the work of his tongue which he now dragged across your clit as if licking a lollipop. “Cum with me darlin’, please?” He panted breathlessly as he curled his fingers the best he could in time with his hand, practically jerking himself to the idea of watching you cum.

When he moved to continue licking your clit, his gaze flickered to your fingers trailing down and sliding down to your own slickness, gasping as you rubbed your puffy clit. Daryl thrusted his fingers in and out of you skillfully, dropping his head down onto your pelvis as he gripped the head of his cock tightly and timed his strokes with your fingers, not being able to stop himself as he stuck his tongue out and gave your clit small kitten-licks.

You gripped his hair a lot harsher than intended as your hips jerked uncontrollably, orgasm burning hot in your gut before exploding, sparks of euphoria coursing through you. Daryl happily let you shove his face into your pussy, moaning as he stroked himself empty into your panties.

When you scold him for cumming in your last pair of clean underwear, he only smiles cheekily at you, “Why don’t ya jus’ put ‘em on fer me, pretty girl?”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

[lunajay33]

Finding You🩵

Summary: The group has been split up since the prison feel and you’ve been all alone with Judith until you come across a terrible group of men

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warning: This story might have some uncomfortable parts for some readers, nothing fully happens just some harassment

•Masterlist•

Things were going good, we had our crops and the community was coming together with the people who came from Woodbury but then….the sickness spread through the prison taking out a lot of people thankfully Daryl was smart to keep me away from anyone with signs and then to top it of the governor came back, he came back and killed Hershel right in front of us which broke out into a full battle field

I lost track of where Daryl was, I ran out of the prison with a quick to go bag finding Judith still in her bed, taking some more food for her and I ran out through the opening in the back of the prison

That’s how I got here, wandering the woods hoping just praying to come across anyone from the prison, Maggie Beth Rick anyone, if I ever found Daryl again I’d be the luckiest person on earth but it’s been what feels like two weeks, along the way I found a house got a blanket and tied it around myself making a makeshift baby holder for Judith so she wasn’t as difficult to carry

I was sat on these train tracks feeding Judith a can of peaches when suddenly I was surrounded by a group of dirty men, I held her close to my body scared of what might happen but I’ll be damned if I won’t fight tooth and nail to protect her

“Well well well, look what we got here, sweet lil thing like ya, might have some fun” this one guy with longer dark hair said as he ran his hand across my cheek but I flinched away

“Don’t touch me” I said trying to find away out of this circle

“You’re with us now darlin ya ain’t going anywhere” the older man said and now I was at the back of the group walking along the tracks just waiting to find a moment to escape

We eventually ventured off the tracks onto a road where we saw a man sitting in the middle of the road and my heart skipped a beat, I ran up ahead of the group careful not to upset Judith

The closer I got the clearer that winged vest became, the one person I needed to find the most and here he was

“Daryl” I said kneeling in front of him, he looked dirty and exhausted and……..broken

But when he looked at me I saw that hope in his eyes like when we first found the prison

“Are ya real?” He asked squeezing my arm

“I’m here D, I’m real”

He pulled me into a tight hug until Judith gave out a little whine

“Ya got lil asskicker?”

“Yeah, I lost track of you during the fight I saw Judith and I had to get out…..I’m sorry”

“Ya got out that’s what matters and ya found me”

“There’s something else I need to tell you”

I was cut off before I got to finish

“He yours? Ya claiming him?” Joe asked as the surrounded us

“Yes he’s mine” I looked back at Daryl and he looked defense and for good reason these people were dangerous

“Okay we’ll stop here for the night” Joe said as people started picking cars to sleep in

“Guess we can take the floor” I said sitting down farther from the others as Daryl tried to make himself comfortable laying on his garbage bag

I looked down at him my heart swelled with so much love and appreciation that I was able to find him again

“What’re ya lookin at” he asked with a slight smile

“I really thought I’d never see you again, thought I’d be alone out here just me and Judith forever and this ba…….but then I saw you again” I still haven’t gotten to tell him the news I found out that I was meant to tell him the day the governor destroyed our home

“What were ya meaning to tell me earlier” he asked as he leaned up on his arm

I sighed looking down at little Judith fast asleep in my arms

“I meant to tell you but then you know……..the governor came………I’m pregnant” he was silent for a long time he just looked down to my stomach where a little bulge was showing, it was early so it was only noticeable if you knew about it

“How’d this happen” he asked his eyebrows furrowing

“Are you mad?” I asked feeling my heart pump harder, I know this isn’t ideal but it’s done now and there’s nothing I can do

“Nah just……scared, for you, I can’t lose ya like Lori”

“Lori had a c-section with Carl, that’s why she died, I’m sure I’ll be fine D”

He motioned for me to lay on his chest, holding me close

“I love ya” he whispered

“I love you too Daryl”

Should I do a part 2?

[junebug2108]

Imagine Daryl Dixon being the brattiest brat-tamer ever. Like, this man literally has the sass for it.

•Oh, you want to tease him in front of Rick?? Awesome, he’ll tease you right back, maybe even call you out on it only to make sure you know what’s happening later.

•You wanted to wear his shirt- and only his shirt when you wake up?? Bitch, what makes you think that you’re gonna move for the rest of damn day?? Especially when you looked that good when you wanted to make him breakfast ’for working oh so hard’?? LMAO YOU THOUGHT-

•To be honest though he does genuinely loves you, maybe not so much your lil attitude. Definitely claps back- literally- whenever you make dumbass comments or when you’re being a smartass.

•100% tugs on your hair, pinches you, pokes you, prods you, anything to get you to whine and get all mouthy. Riles him up, I can tell you that.

•Can, will, and has left you high and dry before for being a brat and teasing him all day, one hundred percent will not condone such behavior from his little peach.

Again, Daryl Dixon is a bratty brat-tamer.

@elmolovesw33d (first time writing something like this please bear with me)

[star-wrote]

Georgia Peach

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader | Farm Era

A/N: this is for @ghostboneswrites2 summer challenge!! my first time ever participating in a challenge, and i had so much fun! i obviously chose the peachy prompt hehe. daryl writers! you should join this here! deadline is august 31st :)

Warnings: slightly suggestive, reader has a southern accent, suggestively eating a peach?, mentions of walkers, mentions of death by walkers.

Word Count: 760

(peach divider from @strangergraphics )

The Georgia sun was known to create a wet heat that sticks to your skin if you go outside for more than a second. Your mama always said that the sun is fond of the softest skin. The amount of times you’ve gotten sunburnt growing up proved your mother’s words to be true.

A lot has changed since last summer. The part you miss the most was your mama rubbing aloe on your sunburnt cheeks. She wasn’t around anymore. None of your family was. You blame the biters for that.

You had to run from your farmhouse when it got taken over by the freaks. Luckily, your friend Maggie and her father, Hershel took you in on their farm. You had to work to earn your keep, but it was the amount of chores you were used to at your old home.

Another thing that has changed since last summer is the amount of people you live with. A new group had come looking for refuge on the farm a couple of days ago, and the front yard was scattered with tents of strangers.

Strangers were conflicting to you. Your daddy had the idea that you could never be too cautious around strangers, but your mother always treated strangers with kindness and warmth. Well, you always have been your mother’s daughter.

The first morning with the group, you had woken up at sunrise to go pick fresh peaches for everyone. You knew that they had spent some time on the road and had probably gone without the taste of a fresh Georgia peach for some time. Seeing the smiles on their faces after they bit into the ripe fruit made a sense of pride swell up in your chest. You made it a habit to bring them peaches every morning.

There was one man who had yet to take one of your peaches. Daryl, you heard someone call him. He seemed to be on the same schedule as you; running off into the woods every morning while you were out picking peaches. He always comes back home around dusk and goes straight to his tent, (which was further from the rest) skipping on socializing with the group.

You asked a woman named Carol about him. She told you that no matter what the group says about him, she knows that he’s a good man since he spends every day looking for her daughter. When you asked what the group says about him, she just shook her head and said “all kinds of nasty things.”

You took that as a hint to be weary around the mysterious man… but that didn’t mean he didn’t need one of your peaches.

This morning, you had decided to wake up before Daryl in order to catch him before his search. Hearing the song that the birds were singing, you started humming as you filled your basket with the juicy fruit. You saw Daryl in the distance, coming out of his tent with his crossbow slung over his shoulder, so you made your way over to him.

He eyed you as you approached him and stopped about five feet away from him.

“You’ve been missin’ out on my peaches.” You say to him with a smile.

He didn’t say anything as he took in the lacy dress and hair bows that you were wearing.

“Well?” You held the basket up. “Do ya want one?”

He stayed put as he gestured to your appearance. “Ya always go out here in that? Ain’t exactly practical.”

You bring the basket back down to your side and smirk while looking at his exposed arms that were starting to sweat in the morning heat. “Don’t exactly need practical when I’ve got big, strong men around here.”

He looks at the ground and brings his thumb up to his teeth to chew on the skin there.

“Look,” you start, “I’m just doin’ my part around here and making sure y’all have somethin’ sweet.”

He meets your eyes again and drops his thumb from his mouth. Daryl walks up to you, only stopping when you’re face to face. “Well ain’t you just a peach.”

He grabs a peach from your basket and bites into it in front of you. Some of the orange colored juices start to drip down his chin, but he wipes them with his fingers and sucks them clean.

As he walks away, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. Daryl Dixon was going to become a problem that you just can’t resist.

[ghostboneswrites2]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　One Shots　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

a masterlist

Bit - You we’re bitten before he found you.

The Girl in the Shack - Daryl and Aaron find you in bad shape.

Can’t Ruin That - Daryl gets you a gift.

Girl of Your Dreams - You’re his annoying little sidekick. (Part 1) (Part 2 - 18+) (Part 3 - 18+)

From the Devil Himself - No one has ever annoyed him as much as you do.

Virgin (18+) - You were a virgin, he might as well have been.

You Ran - Daryl tried to get you out of an abusive situation. // Part 2: You were Found - Daryl brings you home.

Safer (18+ TW) - Daryl cares for you after a brutal assault.

I Won’t Tell if You Don’t - Daryl stumbles across you smoking in the gazebo.

Maybe, Possibly, One Day - All the years it took Daryl to realize you loved him.

Daryl x Librarian Reader - An innocent pre-apoc fling with the local librarian.

Small Spaces - 5 times you wound up trapped in a small space with Daryl.

My Boyfriend’s Gonna Kill You - Daryl comes after you when you’re taken captive.

The Siren - Lost at sea, Daryl meets an unlikely companion.

Crush - An angsty story about a reader with trouble regulating emotions vs an emotionally unavailable Daryl. (pt.2)

Songbird - Daryl falls for the girl who sings at the bar.

Fruit themed drabbles ~

Young Daryl X Strawberry Reader

Daryl x Peach Reader

[xoxo-sarah]

Reckless

↝a/n: reader is indeed a badass in this. A dumb one- but a badass nonetheless.

↝pairing:Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

↝warning: death, murder, weird guys, set after Negan shows up, Alexandria, fear of losing a loved one (Daryl and reader, separately),, reader endangers herself, pigs (men),cursing, slightly proofread, idk it's kinda graphic ngl, reader is kinda crazy but who isn't in twd universe?

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 8.16.24

Note: Kate is reader's friend

“You ain't goin' out there.” Daryl said nonchalantly, bringing the lighter up to light the cigarette hanging between his cracked lips.

Taken aback, you could only stare at him. Watching as he leaned against the porch railing, looking at you with a calm look in his eye.

It's almost like he believed you wouldn't walk outside the gate of Alexandria. Like you would listen to him. You weren't about to argue about what you can and can't do, especially when a man is on the other side.

Huffing, you stomped past him, back into the house.

After Daryl finished the cigarette, he stood to his full height, turning to open the door. He grunted when the door wouldn't open.

“Seriously?”

You heard him on the other side, but didn't care. Kate was out there. Who was Daryl to tell you to stay in the safe zone, to not look for someone who would be out in the woods looking for you the second they heard you were missing? You knew it was dangerous, but that was the chance you were willing to take for a friend.

“Open the door.” Hiding the last bit of supplies, you twisted the lock, letting him open the door. Ignoring the glare he was sending you, you made your way to the bedroom, exiting with a blanket and pillow. “Are ya kiddin'? What, 'm I in the doghouse?”

“No,” you scoffed, throwing the blanket on the couch, and began to make it comfortable. “I'm not sleeping in the same bed as someone who thinks I can't take care of myself.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You implied it.” With that, you finally looked him in the eye, daring him to say another word.

Huffing, he made his way to the bedroom, slamming the door.

You stood in the darkness for a moment, thinking everything through, whilst also listening as he walked around the room, before the mattress springs creaked, letting you know he flopped on the bed. You give it 20-30 minutes before he gets up and tries to apologize, like he always did. You'd turn him down, of course, and he'd finally leave you alone for the night. Then you'd make your run for it.

Sticks and leaves crunched under your feet, the quiet of the night having the hair on your arms stand straight up. Light illuminated ahead of you, the flashlight held tightly in your grip, knife in the other hand. The backpack you were quick to pack only had a few things, but they were important. A pistol you stored with you at all times sat on your belt (only for emergencies), small first aid kit–in the hindsight you do find Kate– but she's hurt, a can of whatever was out on the kitchen counter that you didn't get the time to actually look at-it was probably a can of peaches or something-, water, and the thin blanket you kept sprawled across the back of the couch.

Hearing voices from the distance, you quickly cut your light, catching the smell of a fire, along with the sound of the crackle of wood and drunken laughter. You took your chance with your surroundings, putting your trust in what was blindly in front of you.

You managed to sneak closer, now being able to see the group from between the trees. They sat around the fire, cackling about God knows what, blood and grime coating their skin in a thick layer. They passed a bottle around the circle, taking a big swig to numb their reality. Looking around them, they set up an alarm type thing with empty cans connected to wire and string, something your group has done many times, especially when you were without a stable housing system.

Stained tents were close together, nearly side by side with how small the alarm system was. “She's a beauty.” One man snarled, standing to wobble toward one tent, unzipping it, bending over, and reaching into it.

He struggled for a minute, nearly losing his footing, before he straightened up, dragging the body over to the other guys. They whooped and hollered, passing the bottle around again.

The guy who pulled Kate out of the tent started playing with her matted hair, a nasty grin on his face. Your nails dug into your hand. There were 4 of them, all of which had an advantage for having Kate. Even if you were to attack them, they would probably kill her without a second thought.

She snarled, pulling at the rope that bound her hands behind her back. “Ain't she?” He bent down, closer to her ear. She pulled a disgusted face.

One guy cackled, loving her reactions for a sickly reason.

The handle of the knife nearly left a permanent indention on your palm, the skin beginning to sting.

Maybe if you brought something like a bow you could catch them off guard. But you didn't, alright?

You have a knife and a pistol.

“I think it's time to turn in, fellas.” Another guy stood, stretching his long, skinny limbs. The other guys mumbled an agreement, beginning to retreat.

Kate was dragged toward the fire by the original guy, “can't let you out of my sight, can I, pretty girl?”

Kate uttered a 'fuck you'.

The guy stood back from snuffing the fire pit with dirt, moving to lean over her. His hand caressed her cheek, dirt smearing. “ You have a mouth on ya, doncha?"

The knife slid across his throat in one quick motion, a garbled sound was put to an end as the knife punctured his skull quickly after. You laid his body down gently, glancing at the tents as you moved to Kate.

She silently watched you with wide eyes. To her, you just appeared out of the darkness, leaping over the wire and taking her and the guy by surprise. If anything, she didn't recognize you at first. You looked scary, crazed, even. Your eyes held a fiery she'd only seen a handful of times since the apocalypse started.

Finally untying her hands, where rope was tied in a tight knot, leaving her wrist red and raw, you heard rustling came from one of the tents, followed by, “I gotta take a leak.” Kate quickly scanned the dead body, taking the knife off his person.

You quietly blended in to the woods, running as fast as your limbs would let you. You could hear cursing from the tents. Far enough away, you slowed down, coming out of the woods. Kate heaved, rubbing at her wrist.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Rosita came back from the supply run, and she said you were taken.” The two of them had gone out early that morning, in search of something-anything to satisfy Negan.

“That was dangerous. Those were Negan's men.”

“They're disgusting.”

She couldn't disagree. You didn't see what they did before, or hear what they said. She was thankful for that. If she were to tell you, you'd turn around and go slaughter every one of them.

Coming to an abandoned, dead car, you settled in the driver's seat, helping her wrap her wrist and any small cuts she had on her body.

You offered her the can of peaches, opening it up with your knife for her. She took it, her stomach growling as soon as you uttered the word 'food'. She chugged the water. You watched.

You had known her before the apocalypse. She had it made, never having to starve or wait all day to eat, always having the comfortable bank account to just be able to buy whatever she was feeling at the moment. You had watched first hand as her life flipped upside down. Reckon she thought the same about you. Deep down, you knew she would've gone looking for you if the roles were reversed.

“They took everything we found, which wasn't much but still. I was going to drink that alcohol.” She broke the silence, slightly pouting her busted lip out. Your lip twitched, not quite finding the amusement in your body. “Surprised Daryl didn't come with you.”

“He didn't want me coming.” She nodded, understanding where he was coming from. “They were going to look for you in the morning, but a lot could happen between now and then. I couldn't risk it.”

“You're reckless.”

“You could've died,” you countered. Maybe you were reckless and stubborn, you didn't care at that moment.

The door suddenly swung open, a gun cocking as soon as the cold metal touched your temple. Kate yelped as she got dragged out, falling out on the broken asphalt. “You think you could do that shit and get away with it?” Alcohol wafted in your nostrils, hot breath fanning across your ear and neck. “Get out.” A harsh hand gripped your arm, pulling you out. He grabbed your knife, pocketing it before you had the time to use it. You could only see two out of the three surviving men from before. The other one was probably still at their camp, keeping an eye out.

The grip on your arm tightened.

Daryl stumbled out of the woods, hearing commotion on the old, worn down road. He saw the car, the men, your silhouette.

He saw the man in front of you, getting in your face. The darkness of the night didn't do anything to show your facial expression. But Daryl knew you, knew how you were holding your ground.

He loaded his bow, watching as a punch landed to your left cheek.

You fell to the floor, quickly shuffling closer to the car. You grabbed the jagged metal of the old can of peaches you had mindlessly discarded, swinging around and dragging it across his face, nicking your palm in the process, but you didn't care.

Daryl jogged closer, arrow ready to shoot, now aimed at the man holding Kate.

Before he could release the arrow, you grabbed the gun that was recently pointed at your head, swirling around to shoot the other guy right in the face, despite his scared protest, before aiming it at the man holding his face at your feet, cursing you, belittling you.

Daryl stood, stunned.

In the span of a minute and a half, you had killed two men without flinching.

—

The door to your bedroom creaked, Daryl stumbled out of it. He stood behind the couch, shirtless, his pants hanging low on his hips. His face was set in a scowl, his distaste about having to apologize evident on his face. “Ya know you're a badass. Ain't no secret. Didn't mean it like that, ya know that.” You grunted, giving him a taste of his own medicine. You were turned away from him, laid out across the couch as you glared at the wall through the darkness. The backpack laid under the couch, everything ready.

“Say somethin'.”

You turned on your back, looking up at him. You knew he was leaned across the back of the furniture, searching for your face in the darkness, you did the same. “Fine.” Your words held no truth to them, only evident annoyance.

He sighed, straightening his back. “It's dang-”

“It's dangerous, yeah, I know. Which is exactly why we need to look for her. There's no telling what has already happened to her, especially with Negan's men out there.”

“A group is goin' in the mornin'. First thing.”

You stayed silent. At least they were trying, and being smart about it. But you weren't using your brain, only your heart. She means too much to you to lose her. She's all you have left of the normal life, before all this.

“You gonna come to bed?”

Maybe you were being unreasonable.

“No.”

Daryl shuffled back to the bedroom, letting the door shut harshly behind him.

Three minutes later, you were quietly opening the back door and wiggling out. You blended into the night, walking around Alexandria without anyone noticing. You ran by the people on watch, making your escape. You ventured into the woods, Daryl's words in your head. You were a badass. Maybe not a smart one when it comes down to being rational, but a badass nonetheless.

Daryl shuffled out of bed, his throat feeling dry. His feet patted against the cold floor, hand coming up to rub at his eyes.

He stopped when he caught sight of the couch. You were probably asleep. Anger wore you out easily, he had noted very early on.

“Look, I know you're pissed at me, but I'm just tryin' to keep ya safe. I can't lose ya.”

The vulnerability was evident in his voice. Usually, you would comfort him, knowing he doesn't show his emotional state to just anyone.

It was true, he couldn't lose you. He fears he might actually go insane without you.

Ever since you two moved into the house of Alexandria, a fire burned in Daryl.

A fire that told him he could lose you at any moment, but also told him that he had to make it where he couldn't lose you. To try everything to keep you safe.

Negan was out there, in the shadows, waiting. He was waiting for one little slip up. He wasn't one to be merciful. Yet another threat on your head.

Daryl leaned forward, bringing his hand to find your body warmth, something to soothe him before he spirals. “Honey?”

He was met with cold silence.

—

“Well shit.”

You swirled around, gun aimed to kill. Daryl dropped his arm that held the bow, raising his other in surrender. A grin tugged at his lips, pure pride at seeing you take care of yourself like that.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Hunters Ink

Tattoo artist!Daryl Dixon x Reader

One tattoo leads to many more when you fall head over heels with the artist.

You made your way into the shop, quickly engulfed in old rock music and the buzz of machines. The place was packed.

An older bald man welcomed you, a bright smile on his face after he had notified his client. "What can I help ya with, sweetheart?"

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to go about things. "I'd like to get a tattoo."

The man gave you a soft laugh. "Well tha's a given, why else walk into our shop, huh? Now, you got a picture withya, or do ya need sum time to look around fer inspiration?" He motioned around and pointed at the walls adorned with designs.

"I brought something" You fished in your bag for the piece of paper that held the print of a dog's paw.

The man took in the print and called someone else over.

"Daryl! C'mere, this one's yer business." When he turned back to you his voice went softer. "Mah brother does what ya want, my style ain't good fer the lil' details. He'll take over, yeah?"

He handed your paper over to his brother, who looked it over. "Where d'ya wan' it?" You went over all the basic details, where, how big and if you had any other tattoos already. You shared the reasons behind the pawprint and got a couple of placement suggestions before deciding you wanted the piece on your lower arm.

The appointment was quickly made and you left with Daryl's artist card and a warm feeling inside.

The day of the appointment came up quick and you made sure to follow the advice you were given. You had a good meal beforehand and brought some sugary sweets and drinks with you.

"C'mon over, cutie. Got yer paw ready for ya." Daryl came to collect you after you hadn't moved when he called you.

"I got the whole day for ya, so we'll go at your pace, yeah?" His gravely voice was so calming, it really helped with the first tattoo nerves.

"Thanks, really appriciate it." You gave him a sweet smile as you watched him cut different sizes of your tattoo and asked for your hand. "Let's see which size looks best."

Daryl held the guessed sizes to the chosen spot on your arm. "I think the second one?" He took it and held it to your arm once again at your decision and after taking it in you decided it was good.

"Aight, go sit and I'll get it ready for ya." You followed his every move as he talked through the whole stencil making process and came back to you.

With minimal peach fuzz removal and proper cleaning the stencil was on your arm and you were admiring the idea of what it would look like when it was done.

You were ready to go.

Daryl's touches were featherlight, so precise and focused you were almost scared to speak from the moment he held tour wrist to place your arm on the stand beside the chair.

"M'gonna start, do a lil' line ta see how ya handle it." He rubbed something on the stenciled skin and moved the buzzing, inked up machine to your skin, keeping and eye on you as well but you barely gave a kick when he drew the first line.

Daryl gave you a proud smile and went to work. "Ya can ask ta tap out anytime, need ta keep ya as comforable as possible."

You watched his hands work your skin. The way the muscles in his arms tensed at every precise movement and the way his hair was tied back for the work was hypnotising to see. The outline was done before you knew it with how distracted you were by his own large collection of ink.

"How'r ya holdin' up? S'not so bad ain't it?" He came back with a glass of soda for you to give you both a little break.

You admired your arm, the skin all red from the scraping but it didn't hurt that bad. "I'm good." You started, giving yourself a moment to form a sentence. "You're so.. so much softer than you look?" God what were you saying? That was nowhere near a compliment.

"Ya thought we're all as loud as Merle? Loud music, loud angry mouth?" You shyly nodded as his correct assumption. He was being so sweet to you, making sure you were still good every few moments and it warmed your heart to know such kind people were still around. You just didn't think they looked like that.

With the way his heavy boots stomped through the room and the chains on his pants jingled with each step you'd expected short, snappy answers and the all black attire didn't feel welcoming at all before.

But now as you stared at him while he was answering a phone call you couldn't help but let your mind wander off.

You were mesmerised with the ink covering his throat, the wings that followed the natural lines of his body almost perfectly, and every other piece that disappeared into the neckline of his shirt. Even the nude lady laying over the top end of a knife on his lower arm was pretty to you, and you never though the silouhette of roadkill would hold your attention like it did.

"Didn't your mama ever teach ya it's rude ta stare?" You were so deep in thought you hadn't heard the door bell jingle when Merle came waltzing in. His voice pulled you from your daydreaming so fast you got embarrassed. With your head ducked down you glanced over at Daryl who was still on the phone, but he did look back at you with a smile and winked at you. He flipped off his brother with his free hand and went back to writing on a scrap piece of paper and ending the call.

"Ya see me on the phone from outside the window and ya still come in like tha'?"

Merle only laughed and went over to his station to set up for the day. Their back and forth bickering kept up for a bit but it didn't bother you with Daryl smiling through all of his comebacks.

"Darlene, when will ya learn it's still mah own shop, so I can do whatever the hell I want." Merle was at the printer, reading his client's designs while Daryl wiped the excess ink off your skin. "Your shop? Aight how 'bout ya start doin' all the supply orders too, then. Watch ya run outta paper towels halfway into a client's piece."

Merle only yammered some insult in return and went back to working in silence.

Now that his brother was finally quiet again Daryl could continue working without interuptions, having constatly removed the machine from your skin as he replied to the conversation.

A couple of times you thought he was done when he went to move away, but eaxh time it was small top ups and detailing, making sure all the small lines of fur were copied over from the stamped pawprint of your dearest friend were copied over onto your body.

"Ya still like me after today?" He was cleaning up his station while you were admiring his work in the mirror and saw him smile at you in a way that had your stomach do a flip in the best way, already thinking up a next piece so you could come back.

"Ofcourse I still like you! You got me exactly what I wanted, thankyou." You were back at his station, letting him clean your arm for the last time with his gentle touches, but not without a soft "Sorry." before wiping away the excess fluids and wrapping it up for you.

"I'll give ya this, tells ya how ta care fer new ink. And this, on the house." You accepted the paper and aftercare creme and made your payment before you shared goodbyes and you went on your way.

As planned you came back to the shop four weeks later to show the healed piece, not needing any touch ups and getting compliments on taking good care of it.

Instead of heading out immedately you stuck around, looking at the walls until Daryl's voice caught your attention. "Ya wanna ask somethin'?"

You looked at him before averting your gaze again, somehow feeling it was wrong to already ask for a new tattoo. You heard Daryl chuckle. "Ya want somethin' new, dontcha? Tell me whatya got in mind."

He had stopped to lean over the front counter and gave you a knowing smile. "Ya were starin' at the animals, want one o'them?" He looked over and pointed at the frame that held a part of his flash designs and you carefully mentioned liking the rabbit, but not the overall dark theme of the collection.

"Lemme draw ya a pretty bunny and i'll send ya the picture, 'kay?" You immediately loved the idea. The way Daryl's animal desings held so much emotion had you excited he was designing one just for you. "Yeah, that would be amazing. A softer, maybe less dead bunny." You smiled whe he slid over a piece of paper that held your info he copied from your previous appointment, but the phone number section still open. "Fill tha' in for me? Fer the books."

Maybe it wasn't the smoothest way to ask for your number, but he had it now along with a reason to text you.

Not long after you got your bunny, then came some flowers added around it and eventually you were getting custom pieces drawn by Daryl every time you had some money to spend.

Ofcourse it wasn't all you. Daryl had figured out where you worked and made sure to leave you very generous tips to add to your tattoo funds, just so Merle wouldn't figure out you weren't paying full price anymore now that you were getting so close.

"No way he just left you that much--" your work bestie squinted at you as your gaze followed Daryl out the door after he had paid way too much and headed out. "Is he your boyfriend?" You looked at her with a frown and swatted her arm. "Shut up, oh my god we're just friends.."

The truth was, you were both too scared to ask the other out, so seeing each other at the shop and the lunch place was what kept you both close for now.

A/N: This took so much longer than I planned, I hope the hype for this one hasn't left yet!!

[boop-le-snoot]

rickyl x reader blurb for @sinsandsweetness

cw: facesitting, human disaster rick grimes, teasing. 18+

without further ado,

Daryl's groan echoes throughout his room in the basement and bounces off the bare walls. The next noise is identical, but muffled. The fabric of her skirt rustles as he pushes it out of the way, tucking it sloppily into the waistband of her underwear- those, he doesn't bother removing. Just pushes the damp gusset to the side, fingers twitching from the hiss she releases as cool air meets the flushed lips of her cunt.

He doesn't waste precious seconds, just dives in. Nose smushed into the short tuft of her pubic hair, mouth enveloping both of her fat outer lips, nursing the essence off her like he would be sucking at the flesh of an overripe peach. Daryl hates those things - he's from Georgia, for fuck's sake, where everything is fucking peach flavoured - but she is just so sweet, so soft and sticky, he has problems with keeping his mouth off her most days. The meat of her ass plump under his rough palms.

He pushes at it, dragging her inner labia and clit along the seam of his mouth and she keens. The field of view is narrow - he can just about see the folded fabric of her top and the mounds of her heaving breasts, nipples poking through the cotton - but he can imagine. Her head thrown back, her bottom lip between her teeth. They've got the mostest privacy in the apocalypse in his basement but she is still so conscious of the noises she makes.

The noises he makes her make. Daryl flattens his tongue against her hard nub, flicking it with intent and precision. He wants, no, he needs to hear what she has been forced to hold back. His grip on her hips is bruising but it only eggs her on; experimentally, she rolls her hips over his mouth. Once, twice... he isn't sure who makes the low humming noise. Coulda be both of them, feeding off each other's desire.

“Baby, fuck, don't stop,” she pants through shallow breaths, the roll of her hips becoming a purposeful grind.

Daryl feels her skin protest to the drag of his coarse stubble. He'd gotten back from a long run just yesterday, had barely enough energy to rinse off the blood and grime and scarf down whatever stew that she had made with the Grimes' kids before he crashed down, hard. He is fully intent on making up for it, starting now.

Her hips stutter above him as more weight presses down on his chin; sticky cunt juice is pooling deep in his throat. He's drinking her straight from the source, swallowing her cunt with eager, too eager, gulps. If it sticks to the roof of his mouth, he'll suck it off his teeth just fine later. She grinds on him and he growls straight into her cunt, wraps his lips around her clit and sucks. Sweat gathers under his palms and in the spaces between her cunt and legs.

Her face must be flushed. Sweat dripping from her hair, clear droplets running down her face that he would stick out his tongue and lick, like a parched dog, whenever he gets to fuck her. The thought of her snug cunt enveloping his aching cock makes it pitifully twitch and release a dribble of precum into his boxers.

She's close. Daryl knows it because that's just who he is. Attentive, a hunter, a tracker. He tracks her upcoming release through the fluttering of the entrance to her cunt, through the pulsing blood rushing to her clit. The nub is hard in his mouth, he flicks it easily and with abandon. His neglected cock twitches in sympathy.

Suddenly, there is a creak. There are footsteps, wide, unhurried. Daryl knows those footsteps, is deeply familiar with them, and their sudden presence makes him pause. Somewhat stupidly - his nose is brushing her clit with every single inhale as quiet tremors run through her body. Made that much more obvious by how still he'd gotten under her.

“Listen, Dar-” Rick ends his speech as soon as it begins.

She shuffles in place, leaning on the back of the couch. From Rick's position near the entrance, she knows Rick can't see Daryl face-deep in her cunt. Rick can't see anything at all in the near-darkness, just her still-clothed chest and her stiff nipples.

“Where's Daryl?” Rick, while frowning, seems incredulous.

A silent chuff wafts over her cunt; Daryl's exasperation makes out in the form of a muted chuckle.

“Busy,” she replies without thinking, aware of the hoarseness of her own voice.

“Well I need 'em for a thing,” Rick shrugs and looks around again, as if Daryl would suddenly appear from one of the dark corners in the single, wide room. No luck for Rick, though: the object of his inquiry stays still and doesn't even try to hide his smile as he presses his wet mouth into the inside of her thigh.

She frowns. “Is it urgent?”

“Sorta,” Rick begins to eye her with suspicion. The cogs are turning in his head but the picture doesn't seem to be adding up. It is comical to see his eyebrows draw tight over his eyes. “So where is he?”

Before she has the chance to react, Daryl's strong hands make quick work of dragging her down his chest. He sits up, just enough to poke his head from behind the couch, his face shining wet even in the settling twilight. There is a wet spot lower now, too, on his stomach, where he so ungracefully dragged her sensitive cunt.

Rick's eyes bulge.

“Wha?” Daryl makes an attempt to wipe his mouth and unstick some of the unruly bangs from the mess but it just ends up making him look even more fucked. “Wha's so urgent dat ya had ta barge in here like dat?”

“Uh,” Rick replies eloquently, eyes stuck to the sheen on Daryl's face. Unconsciously, the sheriff licks his lips, and immediately looks away. “S'nothin', it can wait,” he finally says, yet makes no moves to leave.

She snorts. Quietly, under her breath, but the two men are just that good. Both are looking at her now, one embarrassed, one incredulous.

“Well then go or join in, I was just about to cum,” she rolls her eyes, letting the annoyance bubble up and pop on the surface. She was close, until someone so rudely interrupted her beeline for pleasure. She didn't push down and get on Daryl's face for nothin', after all.

It's Daryl's turn to snort. He does so as he's laying back down and adjusting his grip on her hips, ready to pull her back in. “Naw, Rick ain't like dat. He's ol-fashioned,” and it's just friendly banter, all bark and no bite in Daryl's voice, but Rick begins to walk before Daryl's even through with it. In his defense, Daryl seems only mildly perplexed.

Mostly, he's amused. And then his expression is obscured by her body as he drags her cunt back up to his face and begins slurping. Noisily. On fucking purpose.

“Oh,” she gasps, at nothing in particular. At the feel of Daryl's wet hot tongue gathering what's left of her arousal. At Rick's red lips tilting into a haughty smirk. At Rick's finger dragging along her lips.

His hands taste of motor oil, metal and gunpowder. She wraps her tongue around, applies gentle suction to the tip of his thumb. The flavour combination is known to her, by Daryl's own hand, but current configuration is vastly unfamiliar. She meets Rick's eyes and grinds down on Daryl's mouth, her weeping cunt doing exactly nada to silence his satisfied groan.

[ddamm]

Sleep and cuddles – Daryl Dixon headcanons

(ᵍⁱᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳˢ ᵈᵉᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ - ˢᵒ ᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵗˢ ⁂)

Warnings: lots of fluff, some insecure/not worthy feelings, mentions of nightmares, (following my friend's @dixons-sunshine design cause I have no idea what I'm doing yet. SORRY KRYS 😅)

Word count: 819 (not counting symbols, emojis or ending A/N)

A/N: HEEEEY! So, huh. This is the first time I ever posted on Tumblr or done smt like this (I'm familiar with writing short fics, fics and one-shots, but not headcanons) so idk what the outcome may be... but I'll try to have fun since this is just a way to pass time and write down some kinda random stuff I had in my head! With that said, let's head on to it!

Song: ONLY - Leehi

(play b4 you begin reading)

(cute cloud gif divider from @graphicstorage, in this post)

☽‧₊˚ Daryl wouldn't be the one asking for cuddles. It's more like you felt like it late at night. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ Daryl would look at you questioning why you want cuddles out of nowhere, but he would comply with a small smile nonetheless. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ Daryl would allow you to cuddle his arm if you guys are still with other people. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ The first time he laid down with you in a bed (way long ago), he was paralysed and didn't know what to do when your body moved closer to him seeking comfort and warmth. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ Daryl at first is super shy to even hold you, not to talk about cuddling you. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ Even when you occasionally hugged him out of fear/anxiety after a dangerous situation back then, his body would stiffen, and he would barely move (the poor man being too conflicted in his own mind to mind how you were doing yourself). ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ Daryl frequently thought it was wrong for you to hug him or seek comfort from him because of how broken he felt he was. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ As you grow closer, he will begin to feel more comfortable with physical contact with you. ONLY you. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ Don't get him wrong, just because he stands you better than the others, doesn't mean he is gonna behave all sunshine with everyone ‧₊˚ (He is like a little stray animal who has trust issues and doesn't know how to act towards kindness 🥺😭❤️‍🩹)

☽‧₊˚ Daryl is straightforward and will tell you when he is not in the mood for hugs, cuddles and such. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ That will make you feel a little disappointed, but he would gently kiss the pout out of your face. ‧₊˚ (🤭)

☽‧₊˚ "Maybe next time, peach. Dudn't  wanna spoil yer mood with ma shit." ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ He likes couch cuddles. You are more of bed cuddles. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ He "secretly" loves the cuddles with you sitting in his lap and resting your head on his chest. ‧₊˚ (don't tell him I told ya 🤫)

☽‧₊˚ He has memorised your cuddling patterns and discovered you have a cuddling setting time. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ It is a rule for Daryl now that he will wrap you with his arm and hold you closer on cold nights or when he feels you're distressed. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ "'S aight peach, 'm here with ya." ‧₊˚ (he would def whisper that in your ear with his raspy voice 🤭😆😆)

☽‧₊˚ Sometimes, cuddle times (anytime from 10 pm to midnight) end up in conversations that worry/tire you (mainly after an event has occurred), which is why Daryl prefers not to talk much and just hold you between his arms. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ Other times, you guys plan things together like what to look for in the next run, things you'd like to do or want him to teach you or just joke and enjoy each other's presence. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ When you are too worried, Daryl passes his hand through your hair and massages your temple. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ He often kisses your head or forehead when you fall asleep first (which is sincerely always lmao). ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ Daryl gets grumpy/worried when he wakes up in the morning and you're not by his side, but he masks it well. ‧₊˚ (to the others tho 👀)

☽‧₊˚ On the contrary, if he wakes first and still finds you sleeping, he will watch over you lovingly and maybe place a kiss or two to wake you up. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ You both like to intertwine your hands as you cuddle. Daryl often kisses your knuckles when you do. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ He will big-spoon you to eternity unless he is angry, or distressed. ‧₊˚ (so you might be the one big-spooning lol or maybe just giving him some space)

☽‧₊˚ During difficult times or when you're most agitated/anxious, Daryl reverts into thinking he isn't worth enough to be with you or hold you like he does. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ You never take it on him when he doesn't know how to console you, instead, sometimes you are the one consoling him, because you know he needs it as well. He appreciates it. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ Daryl has had nightmares previously revolving around his past, his family, his brother, and occasionally even you. You are always there to reassure him that you love him, and you are not going anywhere without him with kisses. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ If you ever fight/argue, cuddle time is not interrupted. Daryl would take the coach and you'd take the bed, though in the middle of the night, you (who couldn't fall asleep after the argument and without Daryl by your side) would feel some weight on the bed and next thing is, Daryl's apologising for acting like that, expressing his mind more openly and calmed, and asking you to not stay angry at him for longer. You (or more like me haha) can't stay angry with him for that long, so you'd have gone to meet him for the same thing. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ After a fight comes reconciliation, and with it comes reconciliation cuddles and quality time together. ‧₊˚

☽‧₊˚ He adores hugging you from behind (softly or firmly) whenever you're cooking or doing something. It will surely be accompanied by some cheek and neck kisses. ‧₊˚ (😆😆)

Alright, that's all I could come up with in the past 2 hours or so (I think...).

I decided to do this basically because... I was feeling sleepy and just felt like having cuddles- 😶 And with my not-so-sudden Daryl Dixon rise concerning stuff about him on Tumblr, and discovering a new page of Daryl's content (fic, hdcs and series) I absolutely adored, I said to myself (in my sleepy state ofc) why don't I make one too? I mean, it could be nice and cute to do short (hopefully, cause this ain't short at all 😭) content about the fandoms and more that I like.

And so here we are! 🙂 Lmk in the comments what you think plsss, so I'll know if to make another similar one in the future!

Also, this is kinda an inspiration/mention to a few Daryl-based pages that make some awesome sauce content. Pls check them out cause they are all amazing! @dixons-sunshine @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @darylsdelts @littlegodzilla @daryl-fucking-dixon @daryl-dixon-daydreams @lazyneonrabbitt

Thanks to y'all cuties for reading, hope to see ya soon~

Take care and God bless!~

𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

[dixons-sunshine]

“Hey, Peach. Ya alrigh'?”

The gruff, deep voice of your husband drew your attention away from the treeline you were focused on. You sent him a small, tender smile, your hand rubbing small circles over your small bump. “Yeah, I'm okay,” you confirmed, leaning back against the car on the highway you and the others had founded yourself on. “Just got hit by a rush of memories, and not the fun ones.”

Daryl hummed and moved to lean against the car as well, right next to you. He dropped his bag on the ground. “Penny for yer thoughts?”

You sighed and leaned into his side, smiling softly when Daryl instantly wrapped his arms around you. “It's just... This reminds me of that highway we were on after the CDC. The one we...” you trailed off, a lump forming in your throat at the mere thought of what had transpired all those years ago.

Daryl simply sighed. He couldn't bring himself to finish your sentence. Even all these years later, little Sophia Peletier's death still weighed heavily on his mind. She had disappeared from a highway just like the one your group currently was on, because of a situation pretty similar to the one that had transpired a mere hour ago.

Your group's vehicle had broken down on the highway, flooded by cars, and had to hide from a herd passing through, just like way back when. The only differences this time around was that the herd wasn't nearly as big as the one that had passed through back then, a little kid didn't go missing in the woods, and the two of you were married; back then, you had been in a relationship with Shane. The most notable difference, though, was definitely that back then, you weren't pregnant with his baby. The two of you weren't about to start a family. Hell, he convinced himself back then that he hated you. He had wanted nothing to do with you.

However, as he held you tightly against his side, the wedding ring on your left hand glinting in the hot summer sun, his own matching wedding band resting snugly on his left hand, he supposed his younger self couldn't have been more wrong about his feelings towards you.

“Yeah,” Daryl began softly, a deep sigh leaving him as he finally broke the silence. “Yeah, those weren't the best times.”

“Not at all,” you agreed with a nod, a quiet sigh leaving your chest.

The two of you fell into silence. The only things that could be heard were the distant chatter of your group members, and the sound of birds chirping above you. Daryl could see the small frown on your face as your hands lightly gripped the edge of your—well, technically his—shirt, right above the life that fluttered beyond your skin. Thinking of that time with Sophia clearly made you worry of your own abilities to take care of your unborn child. Daryl knew that he wouldn't be able to ease your worries overnight, so he instead opted for something else.

You needed a distraction.

“I found some things I think ya might like, if ya wanna check 'em out?” Daryl finally broke the silence.

You looked at him with curiosity, your eyes following his hand as he gestured towards his bag that rested next to him on the ground. “What do you have?” The archer simply bent down and opened his bag. However, when he pulled out an article of clothing, you gasped in delight. “Is that...?”

Daryl smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Baby clothes. Found a bunch of 'em in one'a the cars.” You reached out to grab the small, pale yellow onesie, marvelling at the softness of the fabric, making Daryl smile. He reached down and picked up the bag, placing it down on the bonnet of the car, before beginning to grab other things as well. “Found a bunch'a toys, too,” he told you, showing you the little stuffed duck he had found. “Oh, and somethin' Michonne told me ya'd need for when ya, uh... for when ya need to store some of yer milk for our lil' one.” He placed a manual breast pump down on the bonnet. He kept his eyes focused on the stuffed animal in his hand, shy to meet your gaze. “I found more, but I put it in the RV 'cause my bag ain't that big. I prolly went a bit overboard, but I jus' thought, y'know, if we take a bunch'a stuff now, we won't need to worry 'bout it in the future. I ain't—”

You effectively cut him off by wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you,” you whispered to him. “It's perfect. You're perfect. Our baby and I are so lucky to have you.”

Daryl wrapped his arms around you. “Nah, m'the lucky one. M'the luckiest man under the sun. Still can't believe yer actually willin' to do this with me. Start a family.”

“With you, I'm willing to do anything. I love you, Daryl Dixon.”

“I love ya more, Y/N Dixon. So fuckin' much.”

[dixonsgirl93]

Pet names I think TWD men would use for you

I’m gonna use them in a sentence too, just for funsies

NSFWish

Daryl Dixon

“Come on, trouble.”

“It’s gonna be okay, hun.”

“I got you babygirl, it’s gonna be okay.”

“Aww, bunny, you’re blushin’.”

“What’s up, pink cheeks?” (Slight Bakugo reference here)

Negan Smith

“Come on, darling, don’t be like that.”

“Rest up, sugar, I ain’t done with you yet.”

“Aww, sweetheart.” (derogatory)

“Relax, Princess. You know you’re my number one.”

“Well, look at you. You’re as pretty as a peach.”

Rick Grimes

“Sweet thing.”

“Come on, sunshine. We gotta go.”

“You? A fighter? More like a kitten. Oh? That makes ya blush?”

“Shh, come on now, love. It’s okay. I got ya.”

“G’morning, Pudding.”

Merle Dixon

“Come on, Sugar. I was only jokin’.”

“My Queen is awake. Good mornin’!”

“Y’okay there, baby?”

“You know, honey bun, you’d probably sleep a lot better with me by ya side.”

“I got you, little lady. I got you.”