#daryl dixion imagines

[s9fti3]

younger!daryl vs. older!daryl nsfw masterlist.

Younger;

He is 100% sloppy when it comes down to having sex, let’s just be real. he got most of his educational on it from Merle and porn, so he honestly has no clue on how to be gentle or just have “love making”. ya know?

“Shut up, huh?” He mutters against your ear, grabbing your leg and placing it on his shoulder to get at a deeper angle. Your pornographic moans and his grunts filled the empty room in the cdc, the bed beneath you squeaking from the combined weight.

He shoved his fingers in your mouth, shutting you up as you gently sucked and moaned around them. As fast as they were in your mouth, he brought them down to your clit, making rough and heavy circular motions that had you at your peak in seconds.

Older;

After being with you for a while, he has learned that sex isn’t all just chasing one’s high and getting over it. He sees it as an act of love, one that should only be shared with someone he really cares for.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered as he pressed his lips to yours, muffling the sweet moans that left your lips from his slow, yet powerful thrusts. Your hands rested on his shoulders, occasionally adding pressure and leaving crescent shape marks on his bare skin.

He pulled away, taking a look at your face as he see you nearing your end. He thought to himself, how did he get so lucky with you. “Let go, I’ve got you.” He says to you as he speeds up a bit, taking your one hand off of his shoulder and interlocking your hands together.

@thewalkingdilf @daryltwdixon

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

Part 2 | part 3

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

|| 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. ||

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Daryl Dixon masterlist

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

Part 2

•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!]

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ I Like It Long

➳ Summary: While out on a run, you and Michonne start lightly teasing Daryl for having his hair grown out. But there's a hidden reason as to why he won't cut it. (Daryl x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Alexandria, post Savior war

➳ Word count: 1.4k

➳ C/W: Just smut n hair pulling

➳ A/N: This spawned from me writing the context plot of another fic and I was like… wait (And thank yall for the attention on that Mother's Day post??? Yall are so sweet 😭🫶)

My hair is really similar to Daryl's when it's partially or almost dry and it's actually my favorite thing about myself like xbsosjdjdneisnsiasjebeiisjabajissn

You loudly banged your forearm against the glass door of a long abandoned drug store, not hearing any noise inside. Vines and weeds had grown through cracks in the concrete, winding up the sides of the building.

“Sounds pretty clear,” You shrugged, holstering your bow and opting for hand-held blades as Michonne pulled open the handle. You, her, and Daryl were clearing through a nearby town while out on a supply run, opting to make quick work of the task in favor of getting home.

You three entered the building, keeping your guard up in case of any straggling walkers that weren't roused by the initial attempts to lure them towards you. The interior wasn't large, so you could comfortably split off from each other and still be close.

“Seems mostly ransacked. Not much left,” Michonne commented, katana lowered but out in front of her. This had begun to grow repetitive and boring, energy matching the grayness of the lighting.

She took a pair of hair cutting shears off the shelf in front of her, holding them up to your gaze a few isles over. “Think he could use these?” She asked as a smile played the edges of her mouth, nodding back towards Daryl, looking for mischief. His hair had grown quite long over the course of the last two years, the tawny blond darkening into a rich brown, accompanied by a shaggy cut.

“Oh definitely. Jus’ gotta determine which onna us can hold him down long enough to cut it,” You replied with a chuckle, eyes following hers to where the archer stood at the endcap of another lane.

“Shuddup, will ya?” Daryl scoffed, shaking his head with grunt. His gaze didn't break from the advertisement in front of him, trying to ignore your antics. “Ts'fine.”

“Gotta make use of whatever supplies we find, no?” You continued your teasing, trying to hide the grin on your face at his reaction. “You were sweatin’ like a pig all summer, hair tangled all over yer face ‘n what not. When was the last time you cut it?”

“Don’ kno’, don’ care,” He grumbled, and you eyed Michonne again. It's definitely been since the prison, at least. He moved on from the stand. “Plus, winter up ‘ere's gon be colder. Will keep me warm.”

“Daryl, you're ‘bout the only one who didn't freshen up since we got to Alexandria. Don't you at least want a trim?” Michonne pestered, raising her eyebrows at him and shifting her weight to one leg. “You remember Rick's whole hobo-beard.”

“Ain't got no ‘hobo-beard’.”

“But you do look like the only ‘scissors’ you know is the recently searched on your go to porn site,” Michonne chaffed, barely able to contain herself.

Daryl froze for just a second, face flushing as his head whipped to stare back at her. And you two burst out laughing, to which his expression soured.

“Give it up, alrigh’?! Ain't nothin’ wrong with mah hair!” He snapped, accent thick with embarrassment, bowing his head slightly in an effort to obscure it. He readjusted his hold on his crossbow. “Gon shoot tha botha ya.”

“Ay, ay! Jus’ sayin’. Rick scrapped the beard and… maybe you'll finally get some play too,” She winked, followed by a lighthearted snicker.

Daryl groaned again and rolled his eyes, beginning to walk off, but caught your gaze for just a second.

It's not that he didn't want to cut his hair - he didn't care about it – but he wasn't really allowed to either way. There was one major, sexy, moaning reason he didn't cut his hair.

❥-》》—————➣

“Oh, god, Daryl! Fuck! Don't stop… god don't stop,” You cried out, hands clutching his shoulders as your nails began to dig into his flesh. His grip on your hips was bruising, keeping you steady as he pounded up into you at a relentless pace. That grip was the sole thing grounding you in the reality of the present moment.

“Ain't gon stop,” He affirmed, voice gravelly. You moaned wildly, head weakly falling to his chest with exacerbated breaths, his own heaving against your temple. He leaned closer when he could, harshly sucking at your clavicle and boobs, leaving behind a litter of hickeys and little bites that colored you in reds and purples.

The springs of the bed beneath you sounded like they were gonna fold in on themselves, headboard sporadically banging against the wall as Daryl shifted down a little to hit into you at an angle, your clit brushing against him with each thrust. Your back arched overtop of him, shoving his dick into your belly.

“Baby, please… fhuuuckkkk.” You couldn't even think, every thought consumed by the feeling of him. The way he just destroyed you like it's an art he'd mastered, tip brushing against every sweet and sensitive spot inside you, walls desperately trying to cling on, balls hitting up against you, clit grinding on him, slickness coating his pelvis and your inner thighs, his clutch on you just so fucking strong.

You pulled yourself together, lifting your head to see him. His long hair was dark and dampened with sweat, matting up as it stuck to his forehead, obscuring part of his vision. But he was too focused on using you to fix it, didn't dare to remove his hands unless God willed him to.

You moved up, swiping it away, and his blue eyes instantly connected with yours, pupils blown with lust. He (somehow) sped up, starting to slam your hips up and down to meet him instead of just keeping them stationary, now just beating your cunt.

“Tha's it girl. Jus’ keep takin��� me good like tha’.”

His words made you shiver, and you partially fell forward again, nestling your face beside his and snaking an arm behind his head. Your fingers weaved through his messy hair, tangling at the scalp, then tugging harshly as another wave of pleasure ripped through you.

And he whined. There it is. His breathy gasps and grunts mingled with strained whines, and whimpers, as you pulled tighter and tighter at the roots of his locks. His face contorted, eyes nearly squeezing shut, that one vein bulging from his neck, directly on the verge of so much.

“Daryl… inside.., Dar-” You panted, cut off as everything went white and you hit your peak. Your whole body felt electrified, tensing, twitching, walls spasming, toes curling and claws clinging to his frame.

Daryl tipped over the edge almost immediately after, having just been waiting for you to cum first. He desperately pumped into you a few more times, before curving up once more and simultaneously ramming you down as he came deep in you, the warmth of his release spreading through your core, and he threw his head back with ragged breaths.

You were both left a sweaty mess, gasping for oxygen, feeling full and satisfied. Your muscles couldn't keep you up, and you collapsed onto him, loosening your hold at his scalp, his hold on your hips doing the same.

He recovered a bit quicker than you, bringing a hand up and brushing your own messy hair away the second he had the energy to do so.

“Ya alrigh’, sunshine?” He asked between hitches, hoping he hadn't been too rough. He soothingly rubbed his palm over the curve of your body where bruises were sure to form.

You nodded faintly, moving your head so you could breathe better, and you could feel him relax beneath you from the reassurance. He held you tenderly for a while, giving you time to regain your composure. Your eyes were closed in bliss. Few things beat the feeling of Daryl under you, rising and falling with his torso, hearing his low humming as he steadied himself – his softening cock still buried deep inside you, cum ever so surely beginning to dribble down.

You lazily remained in his arms, not wanting to deal with getting up, or the shower you two definitely needed. You took a strand of his hair, affectionately curling it around your finger like a tendril, then letting it go and repeating.

“Ya actually want me tah cut ma hair?” He eventually asked, thinking back to your light mocking from earlier, how you'd laughed as Michonne layered it on. It didn't matter much to him, he'd do whatever pleased you.

“Fuck no. Was just messin’ with you, Dixon,” You replied, kissing the skin of his collarbone right below you, and moving up to find his lips. “You know I like it long.”

The long hair suited him, he looked good with it. You loved to wash and play with it, brush and braid it while he laid in your lap. But mainly, it was easy to grab at, pull on – and close to nothing in existence sounded better than those whines and whimpers every time you did so.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[daddydixonscrossbow]

It was early in the morning. You hear the door open a few second after Dog jumped down off the bed.

That meant one thing - Daryl was finally home.

He had been on a run for the last two days, and you missed him like crazy. You pulled yourself out of bed, padding over to the door and walking down the steps.

Daryl looks up at you while scratching Dog’s head, “Didn’t wake ya, did i?”

You shake your head, “No. I haven’t been sleeping well since you left.”

He quietly tells Dog to get down before walking over to you, pressing his lips to his, “M’home now, go get some sleep, baby.”

You nod, yawning as you turn back around, “C’mon, Dog.”

“Go get mom. I’ll be in in a minute, boy.” Daryl motions for Dog to follow you and he does. He stands at the top of the steps, waiting for you to reach them before running in and jumping on the bed.

A little bit later, you heard the bedroom door push open and close quietly. Daryl chuckles as he sees Dog laid up under your arm and slowly climbs into the bed behind you.

“Ya asleep?” Daryl whispers as he moves to press his body against yours, his arm laying over your waist. You let out a sigh, “No, but I will be here soon.”

He plants a kiss on the back of your head, “I love you.”

You smile, turning your head so you can get a real kiss, “I love you. M’glad you’re home safe.” He nods, reaching up to brush his hand over your hair, “Me too.”

Here’s a kiss for likin’ and rebloggin’💋

[xd-m1a]

I love how Norman just casually takes the HARDEST pics of himself. AND HE ALWAYS LOOKSBSO HOT INALL OF TJEM

[dixonzzgirl]

imagine… 

finding daryl a really cool zippo lighter and seeing him mindlessly flick it open and close throughout the day.

sitting with your feet in his lap while you both relax on the porch swing (alexandria era).

pinky linking instead of full on hand holding. 

finally getting to the playful butt swat stage of your relationship + him winding up his t-shirt and chasing you around the house. 

him praising you whenever you kill an animal: “nice shot, girl.” “look at you.“ “atta girl.” 

reading a book with your legs crossed on his work bench as he tinkers with his bike.

getting a cold and when daryl dips down to kiss your lips, you turn your head away from him. “daryl, don’t! i don’t wanna get you sick!” and then he grabs your chin and presses a firm kiss on your lips anyway.

daryl finds a cowboy hat and drops it on your head. you let out a giggle. “what’s that saying? save a horse, ride a cowboy?” you smirk. his cheeks darken and he turns away from you. “think ya’ got tha’ backwards..” he drawls. “no? pretty sure i’m right…”

eating a lollipop and daryl walks right up and pulls it out of your mouth and puts it in his (or vise versa).

having a journal that you can both communicate in. we all know daryl isn’t the best at communicating his feelings verbally and maybe you aren’t either, so you just write back and forth to each other.

i love the journal idea because you would use it for everything. daryl has to be up early to help rick with something? he’ll scribble a quick “helping rick. come find me.” and as soon as you wake up and feel the void in bed beside you, you go right to the journal.

him getting hard as fuck when you give shane attitude (farm era).

you get into an accident on a run and ending up losing a lot of blood and you wake up later in the infirmary. “ya’ lost a lotta blood,” he says. “then i bet you did too…” you smiled groggily knowing that he gave you some of his (he’s a universal donor).

rubbing aloe vera on his sunburnt skin and he just lets out these sexy ass heavy breaths.

him watching you get visibly frustrated when someone else is helping you with something, but not doing it the way you want it done, so daryl steps in and tells them to get lost.

daryl giving you cold medicine while you’re sick and he makes you take it in front of him and open your mouth to show him that you swallowed it.

a/n: these are my favorite scenarios to imagine when I'm in class :) if you wanna use any of these ideas for a fic, tag me! i'd love to see them!

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Stars in the Dark

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected p in v, emergency contraceptives, slight alcohol consumption, reader is strong (minor description)

Summary: You're a former farm hand at the Greene Farm. You swoon over the new hunter, and he notices.

Notes: This was one of the first requests I got and I'm so sorry it took me this long to put it out! I hope you're still around anon, and you enjoy.

It was an unusually cool day. 

You sat on the front porch of the Greene house, watching as the strangers that were slowly becoming friends did their daily chores. Carol sat in the center of their camp, scrubbing clothes in a bucket next to Lori, who was hanging them up to dry. Andrea sat on the top of the RV, switching between her gun scope and her binoculars to observe the tree line. There was a man beside her, the one that was with Otis when he died, was his name Shawn? Shane?

It was hard to remember their names, there were so many of them.

But you didn't have trouble remembering Daryl’s name. Especially considering how often you would whimper it into your pillow at night. 

You felt your cheeks heat up at the idea of him, your legs switching from being crossed at your ankles to your knees, the rocking chair beneath you swaying slightly. 

Your eyes drifted to the man you'd been thinking of, watching as he walked back to the camp for lunch after spending the morning hunting. You'd been seeing more of him, especially after the whole incident with the walkers in the barn, something not even you had known about. You knew they were there, sure, but you had no idea the little girl they were looking for had been in there the whole time. 

The Greene family had kept it from you for a while. You had gone to school with Maggie, Hershel's daughter, and she was able to get you a spring job working at her farm with the horses and cattle. They were even kind enough to let you have their spare bedroom downstairs near the back door. It was tiny, but it was free lodging, and you loved it. 

That spring job turned into a summer job once the infection started. Hershel had done a pretty good job convincing you of his beliefs. You had little medical experience, mostly just patching up animals at the farm, especially the barn cat PeePoe, but you liked to believe Hershel knew what he was talking about. Even if it seemed a little farfetched. So, you kept their secret and minded your own business. 

You were sort of glad Shane forced the whole thing to happen. The walkers in the barn were starting to really creep you out, especially with how much they began to rot over time. 

The movement of two people sneaking around to the back of the house caught your eye and you saw Maggie and Glenn, something you'd grown accustomed to. She had a big smile, full of excitement and nervousness, and Glenn just looked thrilled to be there. You watched as they disappeared to the back workshop and felt envy bubble in your stomach. 

The sound of that familiar gruff voice that you'd gotten really good at imagining at night startled you. You looked up and away from beside you, your mouth slightly open in surprise, not having heard him walk up on the porch. 

“Hi?” You looked up at him, awkward and embarrassed from your earlier thoughts. You weren't used to seeing him so up close. He smelled like cigarettes and something else, something artificial, and when you saw him chewing something you realized it was the very faint scent of bubblegum. 

“Patricia said you knew the shops in town. Can't find Glenn, and we need supplies for dinner tonight.” His eyes held little emotion, a bit of annoyance maybe. Annoyance at having to ask you, or annoyance at having to go into town instead of Glenn, you weren't sure. 

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded slowly, trying to keep the filthy thoughts from your head as your eyes raked over his face and upper body, catching yourself and quickly looking back up at his face. 

“Good. C'mon.” He didn't ask, he just slung his crossbow over his bloody ripped shirt, which you assumed was from the deer he had bagged that morning. 

Patricia had mentioned to you in passing about wanting to have another group dinner that night, you didn't expect it to actually happen, given how awkward the last one had been at first. With the weather slowly fading into autumn and the crops dying from age, you figured it was necessary to get some supplies from town. 

You didn't leave often. You didn't have a desire, or a need to, but the idea of being alone with Daryl had you almost skipping to his bike. 

As much as you wanted to push Daryl against the wall of the corner store and kiss him till he passed out, you didn't feel like getting humiliated from rejection. You settled for just watching him as he moved, picking up cans and turning them over before stuffing them in his burlap potato sack. 

The sight of his eyes flickering up over the aisle and landing right on yours snapped you out of your dirty daydream. You quickly looked down to your shelf, picking up a can of corn and pretending to be interested in the ingredients in it. Hmm, yes, Corn. 

He eyed you through suspicious slits, having a hard time deciding between being concerned or annoyed.

Daryl didn't know much about you at all. He knew your name, he knew you were younger than Maggie but older than Beth and that you were a newer farmhand. The only people that ever talked about you never really spoke to him.

He did know that you were way too hot to be working on a farm shoveling horse shit. You belonged in a fuckin magazine, one of those that fashion ones Amy used to read back at their first camp in Atlanta. You were fit, you had to be for your job, what you looked like before all the labor-intensive work, he didn't know or care. 

He'd never seen someone as hot as you in person. He couldn't even think of the words to describe you. You looked so out of place at that farm, it was like taking a supermodel and putting her in a gas station. He watched as you put food in your bag, trying not to get hard as his thoughts swiftly changed from admiring your beauty to imagining how you'd look when you came. 

Daryl thought about that way too much already. He thought about it so much that he was confident he was spot on with the image of you he created in his mind. Alone in his far-off tent at night, not having to worry about getting caught, rubbing his dick raw to the thought of you naked, drooling and crying from pleasure under him. 

“Okay, my bag’s full.” Your voice ripped him from his trance and he blinked a few times, realizing he'd been staring at the same can of peas for the past two minutes. 

“Yeah. Alright.” He swept his arm across his shelf, knocking several cans into his bag and two on the floor. You jumped at the sound and he cursed, his brain still not working right with all the blood that went to his dick. 

You peeked over the shelf to see two cans on the floor, one perfectly fine and the other surrounded in a gross pile of butter beans. No loss to you. Daryl snatched the can of diced tomatoes from the floor and put it in his bag, twisting it a few times before slinging it over the shoulder that didn't have the crossbow on it. 

“How the hell are we gonna get these back?” You asked as you walked out the front door, trying not to fall head over heels when he stuck back to hold the door open for you. You thought he was being chivalrous, he just wanted to stare at your ass in those Bobbie Brooks as you walked to his bike. 

“We'll figure it out.” 

And you did, sort of, but it was incredibly awkward with a bag pressed between the two of you on the bike, and the other tied to your torso so it sat behind you. Thankfully, he drove thoughtfully slowly, and you were able to get back to the farm without incident. 

You were happy to let the other women do the cooking, trying to pay attention to the rant Andrea was currently going on about how Lori loved her social norms. 

The wind had grown a bit cooler, sending goosebumps over the back of your neck as the breeze blew through your hair. 

“You ever cook?” Andrea said suddenly, a cautious edge to her voice as if she suddenly realized she had no idea how you felt about gender roles. “Or, like it, I mean?”

“Was more of an outdoor kind of girl.” You chuckled, leaning back in the plastic lawn chair around the fire you sat at. 

Daryl was chopping wood, something you'd never been so interested in before. Andreas' conversation was getting real, real boring. 

“Yeah. I liked fishing myself.” She grew silent after that, and you looked away from Daryl to see she had a far out look in her eyes.

“You okay?” You asked in a gentle voice, only earning a silent nod from her. You took that as your leave and gave her a comforting shoulder squeeze before heading inside. The sun would set in a few hours, and you wanted to change into warmer clothes before dinner. 

You didn't expect to have Daryl sit beside you at dinner. 

You didn't really expect him to come, let alone eat with the group. Last time he’d been stuck in the bed upstairs since he’d been shot by Andrea. You basically froze when you saw the seating arrangements.

 It wasn't really his choice, honestly, everyone sat down so fast, the only two seats that were open were right beside each other. Looked like no one wanted to sit next to Shane. And from the look on his face, you didn't really want to either.

Relief flooded through you when Daryl sat down next to Shane. You took your seat beside Daryl, Andrea on your right. You smiled at Patricia in front of you, only getting a small one in return. 

It wasn't as quiet or awkward as the last dinner. Spirits were a bit higher, although tense with the whole “prisoner in the barn” fiasco. You couldn't recall the name of the man that was currently chained up, but you did know Dale made a scene of fixing him a plate, much to Shane's objection. 

You tried to distract yourself from their bickering by looking at Daryl. A quick bolt of subdued adrenaline coursed through you when you saw he was already looking at you. You looked away almost immediately out of reflex, and deciding against your better judgment, you looked back. He was still looking at you. 

Daryl couldn't figure you out. If he had a bullet for how many times he caught you looking at him, he'd be able to kill every damn walker on earth. 

It never even crossed his mind you were into him before that night. It seemed so farfetched, you were too fuckin pretty to be looking at him like that. Your features were so soft, even after all the work that had toughened your muscles, your face was still so… 

Cute.

 He didn't notice the tugging that had pulled at the corner of his mouth until it was a full-fledged smirk. He was about to look away when he realized how creepy he probably looked, staring down at you smirking without speaking, but the feeling of your knee bumping against his had his eyes locked to yours. 

His smirk slowly faded, being replaced by a more serious expression, until he saw the soft smile on your lips. 

Nah, she's just friendly. He found himself trying to explain away your actions, but a large part of him desperately wanted him to be wrong. Having such a sweet girl look up at him like that was uncharted territory, and his mind slowly drifted away to the idea of your uncharted territory. He would've snorted at the pun if not for the feel of your thigh pressing against his and staying there this time. 

Neither of you had noticed, but the bickering had finally died down, and a different and lighter conversation was taking place. 

Your silent interaction wasn't as private as it felt, the burn of Rick's eyes on his face had Daryl dragging his eyes to the leader of the group, holding so much cold annoyance towards the nosey man that it could've frozen hell. 

Rick just grinned, happy to see at least some people weren't so miserable with how things were going and went back to picking at his plate with his fork, silently chuckling. 

“Do you drink?” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts, he looked back over to you, his expression softening when he saw you. He couldn't decide if he wanted to take you out back and fuck you in the grass like an animal, or take you to your bed and kiss every inch of your body. 

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, his voice low and quiet amongst the chatter of the table. “Why?”

You shrugged in return, popping an apple slice in your mouth and crunching it before swallowing and speaking. “I found a bottle of wine today at the store. I don't really drink much anymore but wanted to find a reason to.” 

Your open-ended words had him overthinking once again, over analyzing what you meant. Was he the reason to drink? Or did you have one already? Before he could leave you in more silence your thigh moved against his again, bringing his attention back to you. 

“What're you askin’ me?” He needed to hear you clearly state your intentions, not wanting to humiliate himself by accepting a nonexistent request. 

“If you'll join me.” Your voice was quiet, almost too quiet, and it took him a few seconds to process what you'd said. 

He looked you over, his eyes narrowing as he searched your face for any sign of a trick. You smiled nervously, your eyes flickering to and fro, only settling on his eyes for a second a time. Something about you being unable to keep eye contact stirred something in him, something he was painfully unfamiliar with. He wanted to grab your chin and make you look up at him, make you speak up, make you tremble under his touch-

“You can say no.” He snapped out of it to see your smile had faded to fear of rejection. 

“No. I want to.” He answered immediately, nodding and earning another smile from you. 

You met him in the front field, holding your bundled up blanket with the wine bottle inside. You were originally going to bring glasses, but said fuck it, you could drink from the bottle. You did forget to bring a bottle opener, though, something Daryl was happy to help with. 

He took the bottle from you and sat down on the blanket beside you, pulling a switchblade from his back pocket and beginning to work it into the cork.

“Hershel said something about moving you guys inside soon.” You commented as he blew a few chunks of broken cork from his blade. 

“I'll pass.” He grunted, digging the blade back into the cork. 

You looked away, your heart dropping at his words. 

“Can't stop thinking about it.” 

“Huh?” 

“About winter.” You thought you might've just been imagining it, but you swore you saw his face drop in disappointment at your answer. 

Finally, you heard the pop of the cork finally coming out, and he took the first swig, spitting out the few pieces of cork that had fallen in after he demolished the poor thing. 

He handed it back to you and you took a deep swig, trying to get as much courage as possible. You didn't know how to act around Daryl. He was so unpredictable, nothing like the other men you'd crushed on before. They were all easy, quick to accept your subliminal hints. 

But Daryl? You could tell him you wanted to suck his dick till he couldn't breathe, and he'd probably laugh, thinking you were just joking, and go off and hunt or whatever it was he did all day. 

It was easy for your mind to wander in the silence. You handed the bottle back to Daryl as you slowly undressed him in your head, imagining him taking your clothes off, his lips all over your neck, switching between your different fantasies. Rough, violent and painful, sweet, slow and deep, or quick, needy and dirty. You wondered what he would be like, was he experienced? Would he be able to make you cum just with his fingers? Or was he the opposite? Either way you wanted him, so unreasonably bad, you'd never felt this way about a man before. If someone told you a witch put a lust spell on you strictly for him, you'd believe it in a heartbeat. You didn't even know his favorite color. Or what type of music he listened to. 

“Shit, get down.” His hand on your chest pushing you to your back had your heart in your throat. You tilted your head back to see Maggie and Glenn, sneaking away once again. Daryl relaxed at the realization that it was just them and drew his hand away from you. 

“Lucky them.” You grumbled, taking the bottle from him and taking a sip. You were happily buzzed at this point, eager to make conversation but not at the point where you'd make a fool of yourself. 

“Hmm. Yeah.” He agreed, watching as they slipped behind the stables. “Lucky.”

With your newfound courage, you decided to test the waters in a way that you felt seemed completely unsuspecting and not suspicious at all. 

“Must be nice to have someone like that to take your mind off things for a while.” You commented casually, your gaze now back at the stars. 

“Wouldn't know.” His gruff reply gave you motivation to push on. 

“Yeah, me neither.” You couldn't think of the words that wouldn't possibly spook him off. Little did you know, Daryl wasn't some cornered frightful animal, he was thinking of the same things and worse than you. He'd been looking at you, his chest rising and falling in short quick breaths, his eyes all over your body beside him. 

“Those stars look better laying down.” He felt like an obviously desperate teenager after saying that, but when you immediately laid down on the blanket he smirked a bit. Maybe it wasn't such a stupid suggestion. 

He took a deep sip of wine and looked over you, noticing you'd changed back into your jean shorts after dinner. It was odd, he thought, considering the chill in the air, but he wasn't complaining. The way he looked at your bare legs was akin to someone on a diet looking at a plate of fresh, hot salty fries. His mouth watered, not from the idea of fries, but from the idea of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thighs so hard you'd be littered with bruises. 

Daryl wanted to touch you so goddamn bad. But being him, he was too disgusted by the idea of getting the nerve to reach out and touch your thigh and having you pull away, shout at him, storm off and never talk to him again. 

And you being you, you were too terrified at the idea of making the first move and getting a similar reaction. 

So you stared up at the stars, forcing yourself to concentrate, before that last bit of wine spread through your body and gave you enough confidence to look at him. 

A buzzed smile spread on your lips when you saw he was already looking at you. And not your face either, but your thighs, and to gauge his reaction you trailed your hand down your torso to casually rest at the bottom of your shorts. You toyed with it, a bit, pretending you had an itch under the fabric and slipping your fingers under the hem. 

He looked at your face then. 

“You look real good.” He blurted, and froze at his words, ready to get up and bolt if you reacted the wrong way. 

“You look really pretty.” You responded without thinking, earning a look of confusion from him. “I mean, in a good way, like you could model in one of those underground fashion shows-” You cut yourself off before you could humiliate yourself further, but the grin on his face put you at ease. And made you a little tiny bit bolder. 

Neither of you knew what to say. He suddenly grabbed the wine and took an exceptionally impressive sip, leaving the bottle half empty. 

It was a few moments before either of you spoke again. 

“What did you do before this?” You asked, trying to ease the tension enough to relax the both of you. 

He snorted at that question, shaking his head and looking away from you. “Same as everyone else. Lived. Paid for food.”

You took that as the best answer you'd get from him and decided to use the boldness you'd earned from the alcohol. 

“Did you have a girlfriend?” 

He must've found your question amusing, because he snorted. “Psh. No. You got a boyfriend?” 

You noticed his question was in the present tense, not past like yours. “No.” 

He grunted and shifted in his spot so his forearms rested on his knees. He toyed with the grass for a bit, snapping off blades and picking them apart into little green confetti pieces. 

Daryl gave up on talking. He looked down at you again, seeing you were looking at the stars again, but not really seeing them. With the wine induced confidence he wasn't sure if he was thankful for yet, he reached out for you, his fingertips ghosting your knee. His eyes flickered to your face, and when he saw the expression it held there, he decided he was very grateful for the wine.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your lips parted and your eyebrows a bit furrowed. It was funny, with that look you'd think he had slipped his hands in your shorts. And when his hand fully pressed down on your thigh you closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, your body giving a billion silent ‘finally, finally, yes, yes, yes’. 

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for a while.” His gravelly voice sent chills through your entire body. 

“I can't stop thinking about it.” You admitted. 

“Yeah?” Your confession had him spinning, his hand now in the pocket of your shorts, two of his fingers dipping in to pull the two of you closer together. 

You found it hard to speak, so you settled on a whiny and desperate ‘Uh-huh’. 

He smirked down at you, his fingers back at your inner thigh. His touch was lazy, but deliberate, his rough fingers slipping up your thigh to the top of your shorts again. He ached to tease you, watch you whimper and squirm under you, but it was getting progressively harder. He glanced over his shoulder at the house, seeing all the windows dark besides Beth's bedroom. He then looked over the moonlit field, concerned for a moment about walkers, but when he saw the fence he felt all concern melt away. 

Daryl's hand continued roaming over your body, relishing in each little whimper being pulled from your throat. The thought that he was doing this to you, it was him making you into this needy little mess, it gave him a new sense of pride he hadn't felt in a long time. 

“You look real damn good.” He repeated his earlier compliment. The way you looked laying down beside him, your long sleeve shirt pushed up around your stomach, your chest rising and falling sharply, had his heart racing despite the buzz he had going on. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, sending a shiver through him at the sound of it. Your body arched into his touch, desperate to have his hand move from your stomach either up or down. 

“You feel real damn good too.” He muttered, loving the way your body was responding to his touch. 

“God. So do you.” You breathed out a long exhale, looking up at him like he was the prettiest thing above you, not the stars. 

“Yeah?” His voice had taken on a higher pitch, a bit teasing, making you involuntarily whimper at the sound of it. He suddenly took it up ten notches, sliding his hand up your shirt to your breast. You had to bite back the moan that you knew would either call walkers or humans if you made it. While he played with your nipple, rougher than you expected, his other hand popped open the button on your shorts. 

You didn't have time to be impressed before his hand shoved its way through your tight shorts to your panties, catching you completely off guard with how suddenly forward it was. A strangled groan and the sight of your eyes squeezing shut had him teasing you again. “S’been a while, huh?” 

You nodded frantically, biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your legs trembled, moving apart so he could move his hand easier. He eagerly took advantage of the new space and moved his fingers through the sides of your panties, beelining for your clit. You weren't sure if it was experience, or if he just wasn't stupid, but the way he rubbed your embarrassingly slick clit had your head reeling. 

“You want me to take care of this little ache you got goin’ on?” The fact his southern drawl had gotten much stronger was almost enough to make you cum. Coupled with the dirty words he was saying, which was something you didn't expect from Daryl at all, your face burned with embarrassment. 

“Please.” You choked out, your hands gripping onto the blanket under you, having no idea what to do with your hands. 

He put more weight on his hands as he shuffled so close that he was basically on top of you. His middle finger slid into you, and the feigned cockiness quickly left his body when he felt you. He didn't know if he'd last more than ten seconds inside you. You were unbearably hot and wet. And just by the way you squeezed his finger, he couldn't imagine how that would feel on something bigger like his dick. 

Your worries were right, your orgasm came so fast you were humiliated. He'd barely curled his fingers inside you a few times, something you had to teach him through your haze, and you groaned, low and guttural.

His eyes widened when he realized what was happening, your orgasm catching him off guard. He took his hand that was busy pinching your incredibly sore nipples and clamped it firmly over your mouth, muffling your cries, even though they were enough to give him enough material to jerk his dick to for months. 

He'd need to find somewhere he could let you scream in peace. But for now, he'd have you right here, keep his hand over your mouth and fuck you into the grass. 

Daryl watched you come undone under his fingers like it would be the last time he'd ever see it. Memorizing the way your hips rolled up into his hand, the way they pulled away when you arched your back. The way your eyebrows pulled tightly together, then the way they relaxed as you rode out your high, your eyes fluttering like they couldn't decide on opening or staying closed. 

“Jesus Christ woman.” He breathed, his eyes dark and wild, like he'd just watched a miracle being performed in front of him. To Daryl it was. He felt an unbridled sense of satisfaction knowing he was the one who did that to you. 

You relaxed fully, your hips pulling away from his rough fingers and thumb, which were still stroking your clit. 

“Ain't done with you yet.” He pulled his hand from your shorts, leaving a trail of shimmering wetness on your stomach. 

“God. You're so pretty.” You said breathlessly, looking up at him again with that damn look on your face as you struggled to sit up to take your clothes off.

“You think I'm pretty? Yeah? C'mon then, show me.” He grabbed your hands, bringing them to his chest, forcing you to touch him. Your mind spun, still recovering from the first orgasm you'd had in god knows how long, trying to take over control as he used your hands to unbutton his plaid button up, not caring if you saw him shirtless because of how dark it was. The red one with the sleeves torn off,  it was your favorite. It was almost a loss to see him remove it, that was until he brought your hands back to touch his chest again. 

You decided you liked his direction, and let him move your hands down his chest to his jeans. Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle, messing up one too many times. He unbuckled it for you, deciding he was too impatient to wait on you, undoing his jeans and tugging them down just enough to get his cock out. 

When he finally tugged it out you tried your best to memorize every single detail about it. The glint of the moon on the bead of precum at the slit, the way the tip was darker than the pale base, the way his unruly pubes looked exactly like you'd imagined. 

Your hands reached out to grab the length of his cock and he sucked in a sharp breath, his head tipping back as he muttered out a string of curses you couldn't understand through his thick accent. 

He was so fucking glad he jerked off in his tent before he came out to meet you. Or else just that touch alone would've had him busting in your hands. 

The sound of him spitting into his hand made your core do that flip and you let out a shaky breath, watching as he rubbed his palm over the tip of his cock. 

He said nothing as he manhandled you, pushing your shorts right down your thighs, ignoring your little sound of surprise. He pulled you into his lap, and the way he took full control of your body like you were a puppet had you growing wetter than you thought possible. He moved you like you weighed nothing, one hand holding your side in a firm grip to keep you hovering over his dick. He was going to spit again, but you sank down against him and he felt how wet you were, he sputtered out a groan and swallowed his spit. 

He reached down between you and grabbed his dick, trying to guide it to the right spot in the confusion of his lust clouded brain and how wet and hot everything felt. You grabbed his hand and aimed it right at your soaking entrance, and sank your hips down. 

His head barely nudged against your entrance before it slid away, up through your lips and bumping your sensitive clit roughly. You hissed at the feeling and he grunted in irritation. 

“Here-” You pulled back from him, which he objected to for a split second, the idea of you separating from him not an option he wanted to consider. But when you started laying down on your back he moved forward on top of you, grabbing your thigh to hike it up over his waist. 

The new angle made things much easier, although your tightness still proved to be a slight inconvenience. You cursed yourself for being so sexually inactive, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt the burn of his tip slowly pushing inside you. 

His mouth found your neck as he lowered his body flat on yours, his weight nearly crushing your chest under his. He kissed your neck as he felt the resistance finally give, his head popping inside you and the rest of his dick pushing forward easier. 

You still saw stars when you closed your eyes, your body freezing from the mind numbing pleasure at the feeling of him filling you in a way you'd either never experienced, or had long forgotten. When the burn of the intrusion finally gave away and melted into complete bliss you relaxed under him, your hips angling up to drive him deeper. 

Daryl groaned in your neck, the sound stuttered as he fought to gain his bearings. His hand tugging his dick to the thought of you was something he never thought he'd top. The feeling of you wrapped around it was something he knew he'd never top. 

The tension between you broke and he finally began moving, dragging his dick out painfully slowly before plunging it back in, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle he'd been working on his whole life. 

He let out a low groan, sinking his teeth into the meat of your neck and bringing a high pitched cry from your mouth. 

“Nuh-uh.” He panted, his hips picking up a faster pace as he pulled away from your neck. “You gotta be quiet, sweetheart.” 

“Mhmm!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to look at him above you. His eyes dark, his mouth open as he breathed heavily, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. The sight had you arching your back, making him groan at the feeling of you squeezing and pulling on his dick. He really did look so fucking pretty. 

Daryl looked down at you, eyes tracing over your face twisted in pleasure, and he felt you grow wetter around him. The way your body responded to him had him trembling. He couldn't get enough of you. He needed more. He grabbed your hips, his grip firm enough to keep you in place as he sped up. 

The quickening of his rough thrusts had your head lolling to the side, each thrust knocking a breathless moan from your lips. They were quiet, to be heard by him alone, which was more than enough for him. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he fought to keep his composure, the last bit of him that he had under control worried about possibly hurting you. 

But that concern quickly went out the window when you started begging. 

“Please.” Your words bubbled from your chest, hot and desperate. “Please!”

“Please what?” He hissed, his brows furrowed in confusion as he fucked deep into you. “Use your words, tell me whatcha want. I'll give it to you.” 

“More, please, I don't know.” You babbled under him, trying your best to stay quiet. “Harder, more, I don't-” 

He moved on you, suddenly putting all the weight of his upper body into his grip on your hips, right before he started fucking you so hard you lost the ability to speak. 

Each thrust sent a bolt of sharp and deep pleasure through your pussy, up your body and ending with a tingle on your scalp. You couldn't moan, even if you wanted to, his movements were so rough it felt like each snap of his hips knocked the air from your lungs. You knew there'd be a deep imprint of your ass in the dirt tomorrow from how much weight he was boring down on you, and the sensation of that alone made your head spin. 

Your sharp gasps that were in sync with his thrusts neared a dangerous volume, and he slowed his hips, using the opportunity to catch his breath. 

“Ya gotta be quiet. M’serious.” He whispered, his thumbs pressing down on the sides of your stomach when your whimpers had yet to cease. “Gonna have to stop.”

You spewed out a soft stream of no’s, your hands wrapping around his wrists as if you had the strength to keep him there. “I will, sorry.”

He nodded in response and carried back on with quicker thrusts, his mouth open as he sucked in shaky breaths. Daryl couldn't take his eyes off you. He wished he had met you a year ago, before all this happened, so he could fuck you without worrying about walkers, getting caught, he wanted desperately to hear every sound he earned from you. He was the reason you were a broken mess; he deserved to hear and have all of you. 

Your right hand let go of his wrist to snake under his stomach, your flat fingers rubbing firm massages on your greedy clit. The sight had a choked moan sounding from his throat and you whined in response, the sound sending long bolts of pleasure through your core. 

“Daryl, so close.” You whispered, your toes curling from their spot at the base of his spine. 

He understood your meaning and set a steadier pace, not too rough or fast, but deep and steady enough to guarantee your final orgasm, since his first with you was approaching. 

Daryl wasn't stupid, he meant to pull out, truly, but when you came and squeezed his cock like a fist, he couldn't help it. His body trembled and he choked, gasping and whimpering as he came with you. 

Your jaw dropped and you saw more than stars, you saw the whole damn galaxy. Daryl quickly pressed his hand over your mouth to muffle your obscene moans, his hips stuttering as he finished the last drop in his orgasm. 

“My God. My God. Oh my God.” You panted after he removed his hand, your eyes bleary and wet, your body vibrating with exhausted shakes as your ecstasy slowly faded away. Your hands and feet felt cold and numb, and when he pulled away it felt like someone had taken something from you. You whimpered in a soft objection as his wrist left your grip. 

“Goddamn.” He sat back to stuff his raw dick back in his jeans, twitching when he felt the uncomfortable friction from his boxers, it was too stimulating. 

It took you some time to put your clothes back on, when you were finally dressed you were too exhausted to do anything but lay there on the blanket and catch your breath. 

Neither of you spoke for a while, sitting in silence to regain your bearings and enjoy the final moments of buzz from sex. As soon as he came down from his high, he grabbed the abandoned bottle of wine and drank nearly the rest of it. 

“I'm gonna go shower.” You breathed, sitting upright to find your shoes and put them back on. 

“G’night.” He muttered between swigs.

“Goodnight Daryl. That was amazing.” You thanked him with a quick kiss that seemed to startle him.

He sucked his teeth in embarrassment, waving you off as if to say, ‘it's nothing'. He watched you walk away, scratching the backs of your arms, itching from the grass. Daryl turned back to the woods and finished the bottle before chucking it into the field, eventually leaving for his tent, bringing your blanket with him. 

You took the best bath you could manage with your supplies; it wasn't as satisfying as a hot shower with your old fancy soaps and shampoos, but you were too exhausted to do more than just clean yourself. You barely even wrapped your hair with a towel before tripping into your room and falling on your bed. 

You yelped when you felt something hard like at your back and you leaned up on your elbow to see a small box with a note. 

From Lori. Use these next time. -Maggie

You sighed in relief when you saw it was emergency contraceptives and a pack of condoms, despite the pit in your stomach from knowing Maggie had seen you. It was something you should have already planned for yourself, the condoms, but it was hard to think straight when you were horny over Daryl Dixon. 

SHANE JUMPSCAPRE

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

[darylbae]

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡🩰

i think daryl would definitely not realize it at first, in fact i think the group would notice it before him. rick would see the way daryl's gaze would linger onto you when he'd talk about a risky supply run. rick would of course tell michonne, who would poke a little fun at him. "you like her!" "shut up, i do not!" and it wasn't until he'd laid down for the night, that he had realized it. he'd think about your eyes, and how bright they were when you'd be talking to anybody. he'd think about the nervous tells you had, like bouncing your leg, chewing on your lip and looking around the room. he'd think about how, sometimes annoyingly, bubbly you were no matter what. it would typically bother him how happy you were mid-apocalypse, but he lets it slide more often than not. he would not pick up on this stuff if he didn't have a crush. he'd be hyper-aware of how he acts around you, after admitting to himself he had a crush on you. he'd glance at you, then quickly glance away, but always end up looking back over at you. he'd study your lips and how they moved, wanting nothing more than to feel them on his. most of all, he'd keep it to himself. because the last thing he needs is everyone finding this out. and making your friendship with him tense. carol could see through daryl almost too easily, so she's the only one who can get away with poking the bear. besides you. "you like her, huh?" carol would ask, and daryl would just roll his eyes. "so what?" "do something about it!" daryl had no understanding of 'doing something about it', despite his moody, careless attitude, he cared deeply about your friendship and wanted nothing to ruin that. rick was playing matchmaker and suggested the two of you to go out on a run, much to daryl's dismay. now he'd have to deal with his constant reminder of his crush on you, as well as you. there you were, sat sweetly on the hood of a car waiting for him, a smile plastered onto your face as you spotted him. "ready to go?" you asked, your voice smooth as honey and it had sent shivers up his neck. "get in." he'd mumble. "yes, sir." let's not talk about your use of the word sir, and what it does to him. he couldn't explain it, the authority of the word sir, just hit him in his sweet spot. he'd constantly look out for you on runs, even when going along with others, he'd volunteer to split up but stick with you. it wasn't like you were a nuisance, not all the time anyway, he just loved being there for you. he'd walk behind you, trying to be a gentleman and stop himself from gazing across your body as you walked. you were the total personification of sex. "can i bring this back?" you'd ask, picking up something stupidly unnecessary, this time it was a small, pink, glittery cowboy hat attached to a pink headband. "will it help us?" he'd respond, not even looking your way, but still having to keep you entertained. "no." you'd respond, glum face as you look down at it back on the shelf. "then i think we found our answer." daryl was always a bummer, but you had gotten used to it. you knew how deeply he cared for his people, so what was a little grumpiness. but you'd always return back, and find whatever stupid thing you'd found on a run, sitting on your bed by the end of the day.

[lunajay33]

@deansapplepie @azanoni @writer-ann-artist @ghostboneswrites2 @daryldixmedown

[dixonrising]

We're Together

pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

summary: After someone else try's to get with you Daryl makes it known your his.

"Im goin' on a run with Glenn" Daryl said as he entered your cell, "Be back before dark."

You nodded turning to him," Be safe," you smiled at the man before you. You stepped closer placing a kiss to his cheek before he turned to leave.

You and Daryl never defined what you were but, there is a mutual understanding that you were more than friends.

-

"Hey, Ronnie!" You said as you took the seat next to him.

"I’m glad you're on watch," He smiled. Your face looked questioning as you spoke again, "Why is that?"

"I have been meaning to ask you something," He spoke nervously as he turned to face you even more.

"I noticed it's just you in your cell, I was wondering if maybe, you wanted to maybe," he paused taking your hand in his," maybe, try us? like together?" He questioned.

You nearly laughed," Ronnie, that's sweet but, I’m not interested," You spoke softly, moving your hand from his, "Daryl, is well," You paused unsure of how to continue, "I'm not sure what Daryl would call us." You laughed.

"Dixon?" He questioned,” Doesn’t seem like the type to settle down.”  

“Like I said I am not sure what we are?” You said, genuinely feeling as though you and Daryl might never become anything.

“Well you know where to find me, if that cell of yours is still empty’” He said laughing.

“You got it, Ronnie.” You smiled knowing that would never be happening any time soon.

Little did you know though Daryl had heard that whole interaction between the pair of you.

-

"How, was your shift?" Maggie asked as you entered the prison.

"Terrible," You nearly laughed," Ronnie, asked me out.” She joined in the laughter barely believing what you had said.

"Well, we're on duty together tomorrow," She smiled.

You were more than happy with that. "Alright, Mags, I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow, I'm beat." You smiled at the girl before heading to your cell.

You were confused to see bags, outside of the door and a mattress being pulled into the cell. You headed to the door hearing a rather loud groan.

"Daryl?" You questioned stepping into the cell," What are you doing?"

"Nothin'" He said, lifting his mattress onto the top bunk. He moved past you bringing his bags into the room.

"So this is a thing now?" You questioned sitting on the bed.

"You don't want me in here?" He asked sitting next to you.

"I am more than fine with you being in here." You smiled, "But, why the sudden want?"

"I over heard that douche, Ronnie, hittin' on ya," He said looking down twiddling with his fingers.

You smiled, "Jealous?" You questioned.

"No." Daryl responded now looking at you.

"You crazy, you know that right?" You asked.

He smiled shaking his head.

"Just don't bring anything you catch in here," You smiled laying back on the bed," And I guess you can stay."

He laughed laying back next to you, "If you don't want me in 'ere, I can go," He laughed as you snuggled into his side. His arm moving behind your head.

“oh no, your staying,” You laughed into his chest.

-

Thank you all so much for reading!! Request are open! Please share and comment I love to hear your thoughts!!

[shrenvents]

Guard Dog

Warnings: Part one of two (is smut), stalkerish lol, fluff, mentions of death, mutual pining

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x you

Summary: Set after joining Alexandria, Daryl's overtly having issues settling in, and even more problems leaving you alone.

Word count: 1.8k

...

You and Daryl have known each other for years. Through thick and thin, your found-family has each other's backs. But your group has been wearing thin. From Beth to Tyreese, now in Alexandria, a strange and new environment— it's safe to say, Daryl’s been on edge. He was losing his nerve, and that somehow entailed keeping you close, very close.

Every and any second you're alone, he appears, determined to invade your space, and it's becoming difficult to keep your feelings at bay, because you’ve been in love with him since your time at the prison. Even then, when shit hit the fan, he raced to get you out. Though you feared your affections for him made such a delusion — one that posed he would think to save you first— his recent clingy behaviour has made you believe in said delusion.

Today, he's back at it. You’re alone gathering food for dinner, for less than 10 minutes, before he marches into the garage. Bearing in mind that he has no reason to be here, and spent most of his time hidden from the locals, his appearance would be considered unusual.

You let Daryl silently stand there, patrolling the entrance for a few seconds, till your heart gives out.

“Is something the matter?” You utter, shifting your eyes to his dark ones, and they snap to you, slightly taken aback. “Nothin,” is all he grumbles before looking outwards to your surroundings, observing and scanning like the hunter he is.

“Daryl, we’ve been here for weeks," huffing, "we’re alive, and well,” you state, swallowing quietly. “You can relax you know.” You turn to lift a basket of supplies. When heading for the exit, Daryl swiftly steps in front of you.

“I ain’t doin' nothin' but standing,” he rumbles defensively.

“Standing in front of me, might I add,” you retort, smiling, trying to ease the strange tension, but his face remains stoic. Daryl stares directly into you, and a shiver rolls down your spine. His intense gaze doesn’t last long, as he chooses to walk off without a goodbye. Your shoulders instantly deflate, and you exhale, closing your eyes.

“Now what was that?” Sasha’s voice makes you flinch, popping your eyes open to peer at her. “You tell me,” you sigh and she laughs.

“I’ll be damned if I ever try to read that caveman's mind,” she grins, “You're better off leaving that question for Carol.” Her smirk tells a different story, one that says she knows something more, and you can’t help the second shiver that racks through your body.

...

Desperate to figure out Dixon, you go to Carol’s, asking for her assistance with dinner as a cover.

As you both cook, it takes little time for her to notice your incessant gawking. She pronounces your name, and your eyes snap back to the sizzling food. “Cmon, you can talk to me,” she assures.

When you decidedly stay hushed, she releases a sigh that eases into a snicker. “You should speak soon before Daryl finds us, or you, rather,” she mentions, attempting to contain her humour. You spin to face her. “What do you mean by that?” You question far too quickly, that the words practically jumble together. “Exactly what it seems,” she smiles pleasantly, ignoring your eager tone. “You’ve got yourself a lifelong, loyal guard dog.”

“Why? I mean, Daryl’s protective of everybody? But why does he only follow me?” You ramble, “Doesn’t he trust me to not end up dead, in a friendly, gated community?” You pout and Carol laughs again.

“That isn’t quite why,” she dwindles.

“Please just spell it out for me, I can't take it anymore.” Now square to her, you drop the stirring utensil, and tug your apron over your head. She watches you move, absorbed in her thoughts, as you jump to sit on the edge of the kitchen island. “He’s making you uncomfortable?” She asks warily.

“Yes,” you pause, “and no.” Your head lowers in embarrassment.

After a moment, you look at Carol, while she refocuses on adding more ingredients, to the dish you abandoned. “Why does he do it?”

Her moving actions falter, and she pivots to face you. “It isn’t for me to say, but being around you, knowing you’re safe, clearly calms him." Though you don’t truly get it, you nod slowly so Carol goes back to finishing the meal.

Just as she puts meat in the oven, Daryl waltzes through the door, without so much as knocking or giving some sort of warning. You yelp when you spot him. When you lock eyes, you refuse to hold it, so you turn your head over your shoulder quickly, with a grimace, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Daryl.

“What? Somethin' happen?” His hoarse voice sounds almost panicked. As you swivel your neck to soothe Daryl’s unnecessary worry with a "No," he suddenly grips your wrist, far too roughly. You squeak as he grabs your full attention.

You assess how he stands motionless in front of your knees, eyes widened, regarding his hand as it holds your wrist. He looks kind of appalled, as if he couldn’t believe he touched you. He then briskly lets go of your arm, like it burned him, retracing into himself.

You gulp and your bottom lip trembles. 'Was he disgusted? Did he see you as a child? What had you done to warrant this behaviour?' You think anxiously.

You look between Carol and Daryl now, as they share a lengthy stare. You swear under your breath, then push Daryl's chest with your fists, shocking both of them.

“I’m leaving, do not, follow me.” You order, with a vexed, yet hurt look. His mouth gaps with a soundless word, and you leave.

...

Sitting alone in your home, your empty stomach growls, and you start to seriously regret what you did earlier, which left you too ashamed to stay for dinner.

As your thoughts run wild, a quiet knock at the door diminishes them. You stay still, almost wondering if the noise is no more than a tree branch, moved by wind, but he bellows your name.

"Daryl?" You respond, and his voice simply calls your name again, almost like a plea. You turn the lock and knob, opening to find Daryl, fidgeting on his feet uncomfortably at your doorstep. "Um, come in?" You allow meekly, and he enters, faintly brushing your side.

Picking up his musky, pine scent, you bite your lip examining him, slowly leaning back on the closing door. He looks around agitatedly, seeming completely out of place, and somewhat flustered.

Growing stiff, you can't bear the awkward silence for much longer.

"I'm sorry," you mumble an apology for something, you're not sure what, and clearly, neither is he. He whirls towards you, stepping into your space. "For what?"

"I was rude earlier and-"

"Not rude, just, confusing." He interjects, brows furrowing in tune with his sentence. You scowl, "Well, if I'm being honest, I wouldn't say I'm the 'confusing' one here." Your remark reminds you of your previous feelings, and they bubble to the surface.

When he says nothing, you continue. "I'm safe here Daryl, and pretty happy, all things considered," you breathe out in exasperation. "Is there some danger that I should know of? Is someone here out to get me?"

"No-"

"So why do you keep chasing me around?" You just about shout, interrupting him. Daryl flinches and looks as though he wants to be anywhere but here, with you. He fixates on the door behind you. "I ain't doin' nothin-"

"Daryl! Please just," you cut yourself short as your voice escalates. "Please be honest with me, after everything we've been through, you owe me that," you beg.

His tense frame withers in defeat. "I just can't leave your side," he grumbles, his words barely understandable. "Why?"

"Don't wanna lose ya," Daryl's voice trails off as his head wheels to the side. "You won't, and I can take care of myself, just like the others, who you don't follow around." You fail to hide your ignominy, visibly disappointed that he believes you need special attention, over the rest of the group. "Can't," he mumbles.

"'Can't' what?" You inquire, now stepping into his space, voice rising.

"I can't, 'cause I don' wanna lose you," he exclaims again in a burst. Your face twists further in ignorance. "Christ woman," he runs his hand down his tormented expression. "Daryl, please stop dancing around what you mean." You cry out, "'Lose me?' Tell me what you mea-"

Abruptly, he grips your shoulders. "I want ya." He states, baring his teeth as if it were a threat. "I want you, I want you to live."

"You 'want' me... To live...?" You ask slowly and his eyes roll back in frustration. "No, not just to live-"

"Because I love you," you blurt and immediately try to pry your shoulders from his clutch. He stills with you firmly in his grasp, so close that his nose nearly grazes yours. His hold increases its strength, and he shakes his head to himself, seemingly battling his own thoughts. "Daryl?" You whisper.

"How can you?" He utters so quietly it's barely audible, so quiet you don't think he expected to say it out loud.

While his eyes squeeze shut, you snake your arms around his waist, and his entire build clamps up. Now afraid of a possible rejection, you loosen your embrace. But his hands move from your shoulders to your upper back, arms drawing you to him, fully caging you in. You take in his broad chest as it presses against your less impressive one. Your fingers seize his leather vest, aching to know how it feels in your palms.

His heavy breathing fans your nape, and you swear he sniffs your hair, as his nose and scruff tickle the skin behind your ear. His fingertips tease the ends of your hair, and you take this as an opportunity to breathe him in. Just as you do, he pulls away, moving you to an arm's length. You blush.

"Sorry," he mutters and your brows crease. "I smell bad, I know," he murmurs and goes fairly red himself. "I don't mind," you say sweetly with a smile, ignoring the urge to tell him you like it.

Finally getting a chance to gaze into his eyes properly. You virtually melt when his pupils appear glassy. You've only seen him cry once, after losing Beth. 'So would he really be brought to tears over a confession? From you no less?'

"Daryl?" He peeks up from behind his fringe. "Do you 'want' me, or like me, like I like you?" You ask, trying to minimize the pressure he may feel to admit any feelings, but you so desperately want to know —how desperately you want him to hold you again.

"Both," he rasps.

You nod and smile sheepishly, "I can work with that."

When a comfortable silence envelops the room, your stomach growls loudly. A modest smile takes shape on Daryl's face. "I put some food aside for you, back at Carol's." He emits, gesturing to the door behind you, wordlessly asking you to go over there, with him. You nod a yes and your heart pounds, swooning at his thoughtfulness. "Thank you."

You reach your hand out, and he very hesitantly holds it, after wiping his twice down his thigh. You beam, heading out the door.

Part two

[s9fti3]

@daryltwdixon

Mannnn, idk, something about Daryl and head has just been on my mind. Like, him coming back from a run that didn’t do so well. The place was already ransacked and there way nothing left. Than once finding things they could take back to Alexandria, him and Rick got chased off by a heard, leaving the good behind. Everything on top of that, he dropped his favorite and best knife while running.

So, barley even home for 10 minutes and he is already grabbing your ankle and dragging you down to the bed. He is eating you like he hasn’t had the taste of food in dayyssss. It’s downright disgusting, but he honestly couldn’t give a damn.

All he knew was, 1. You felt good 2. You tasted amazing 3. You couldn’t stop making sounds and tugging on his hair and 4. Your thighs made great earmuffs

[nervoushottee]

it happened quiet | daryl dixon x fem!reader

Summary: [1.5k] What you and Daryl have is a soft quiet love.

Big Bald Ass Note: I’ve always had a love for Daryl Dixon. He was one of the first “older man” crushes I ever had many years ago. I’ve always loved his character and the way Norman Reedus has and still does portray this character is like no other. My favorite thing about him that I didn’t understand when I watched twd when I was young but grew into adulthood was his introverted character. And how his care for others was soft, quiet and subtle yet strong and profound all at the same time. As a person who has a quiet love, personally prefers it and deeply cherishes that quiet love. I had the sudden urge to write this. I’ve been getting back into my Daryl Dixon phase recently and I just couldn’t get this out of my head. Thank you to @moonpascal for giving me that little push I needed to just go for it while the juices were flowing despite my other fic waiting outside waving her hands hoping to be seen, This is a long author’s note but this piece is truly something that means a lot to me. Which is funny because this is literally fanfiction but it's still writing and it's still art and it's mine. 

Enjoy.

Daryl wasn’t an affectionate person. It’s never been something that just came easy to him. He never received it as a child and didn’t think anything of it once he got older. 

There was one time when he was really really young. He was waiting for Merle after school, his older brother’s school building a few blocks away, and he watched his classmates greet their parents. He saw the parents with bright eyes and wide smiles. Mothers kissing their sons on the cheeks and fathers rubbing the top of their heads.

 A strong deep feeling within his belly grew from the sight of it and it got bigger and bigger as the two Dixon brothers walked back home.

And when they got to their home, Daryl saw their mom had been exactly in the same spot where the two boys had left her. Face down into the pillow, an arm hanging off the side of the bed where a spilled bottle of Jack Daniels had stained seeped into the carpet. 

Daryl cried for the first time ever. He cried for something he never had. 

He didn’t cry when he saw kids on the streets with new bikes and scooters. Didn’t cry when his mom and dad would yell until the sun went down. But he cried for this. That deep strong feeling that he couldn’t name poured out of him and he cried. Standing in the hallway as he watched his mother sleep. 

Merle, barely a teen and was bitching about spilled liquor, thought he was crying because mom looked too still. His older brother checked her pulse and felt the faint thump, thump, thump. “She’s jus sleepin’ Daryl.”, he explained to him. But Daryl didn’t stop crying. He hunched over, clutched his chest like his heart had been twisted and shoved down into his stomach and cried.

When Merle finally found out why he was crying, the older brother placed his hands on each of Daryl’s shoulders, stooped to his level and looked directly into his eyes. 

“Dixons don’t cry. Not over that or anything else. We just weren’t made for that stuff.” 

Daryl never cried or wanted it again. 

Until now. 

Until you. 

When the world’s gone to shit and the dead are walking. You gotta learn how to start trusting the living. Well,  to learn how to trust your group. They don’t just become a group of people you survive with. They become your family whether you like it or not. 

And in the beginning, Daryl sure as hell didn’t like it. 

He tried to force it away. To keep himself on the outside like he’s always done. Still did even when his brother went missing when they went back for him on that roof. But when time goes on and people die you build something, you find something and you learn something. He warmed into being more into the group. To being something of importance to Rick and the others. More than just Merle’s younger brother.  

He remembers Carol telling him that he was meant for a leadership role but he’s never thought that about himself. And never will.

And getting closer to them came with affection. Came with a bond. With awkward hugs from Carol when he had spent day and night looking for Sophia. Her cropped hair pressed against his bandaged ear. It came with pats on the back from Rick and looks that meant something a lot more brotherly than he’s ever felt with Merle. With you and your small smiles and lingering eyes. 

He had to learn to accept it. To learn that it was okay and wasn’t out of pity. That it was something he was actually allowed to have. It took him a long time to and he still only takes it in doses. Giving Carol a Cherokee Rose or the brief massage of her sore shoulder. Patting Rick’s shoulder,  hoping he knows how much his brotherly bond means to him through it. Nodding his head at you with the tip of his ears a bit red as he turns his head away from you. 

You’ve been a part of the group for as long as he could remember. And the two of you didn’t become something immediately. Daryl was an ass to you when all of this first started. He was an ass to everyone. But when he would small smiles from the courtyard, he would feel something that had never stirred inside of him before.

You were a touchy person. 

Always within arms reach of someone. Giving Lori a reassuring squeeze of the hand or hug when she seemed like she would just break down in tears from the stress of being pregnant in this world. Kissing the top of Beth's head when she came to you with her anxieties over the group's safety. Or playfully slapping T-Dog’s shoulder when he used to make you laugh.

But when it came to Daryl you never touched him. And he felt off about it. Thankful but off.

 When the two of you were starting to become something more, he had subtly brought it up when the two of you were on watch. It felt like pulling teeth when he asked you. And he would rather have done that with a rusted wrench than do this.

“I know you Daryl.” you said to him with a shrug. 

That was the only thing that you said to him when he had asked but it was all that he needed. As your eyes never left his, he watched you smile softly. The moon giving your skin a light glow. You knew that he doesn’t respond well to physical affection. To hugs or kisses on the cheek (except from Carol who does it despite the awkwardness she laughs through). You knew it was something he just wasn’t used to. Or even maybe never had.  It was only four words but it meant more to Darly than he could even say in a lifetime. 

And if you ever told anyone that he was the one that made the first move and kissed you at the top of the prison tower. He will lie until he’s blue in the face and say he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. 

After that you became more affectionate with each other. More touchy than before. Not touchy like Glenn and Maggie. Kissing each other goodbye when the other would go on a run or a quick kiss good morning. Or hugging after a run gone bad and they almost lost the other. Public display of affection to his partner, to you, is something Daryl could never really get on with. 

But what the two of you had was a quiet love. A word Daryl still had a hard time saying and rarely ever said but knew deep in his heart that he felt it whenever he looked at you. 

It was a quiet love filled with small glances and innocent touches. His hand against the small of your back or a quick tap on your arm or thigh. Your small smile to greet him and the nods that greets you.  Holding his hand underneath the table. Feeling his calloused thumb rub against your hand once or twice. Checking on eachother during the other’s watch shift. Him adding some of his food on your plate as he walks past you. You giving him a snack of whatever random thing you have on hand in the evening. Placing your head on his shoulder very briefly when there's not many people around. A mutual meaning of a hug when it's late at night and you won’t see him for a while.   

It was a silent bond the others knew about by name(ish) and feeling  but not as much by action. Those actions were yours and yours alone. And you both preferred it that way. 

Tender kisses and tight hugs. Soft caresses on the cheek and tracing fingers across bare chests. Whispered stories of childhood that turn into bedtime stories throughout the night. Expressing moments of doubt, fear or anger. Tears that would fall on your face and the feeling of his lips pressed against the top of your head.  

Even in moments when you were sleeping next to him. Your head on top of his chest or his arm curled around your stomach. Daryl would feel your wrist, his thumb against your pulse to make sure it's still beating. Or hold as still as he can like he’s tracking a buck in the forest to feel the up and down of your body to ensure you’re breathing. 

You became a big part of his life. This group (his family)  became a big part of his life. Who knew that it would only take the end of the world for him to feel something more than just anger for the first time in his entire life.  

Daryl wasn’t an affectionate person. But he learned how to be. For the good of the group, for himself and for you. 

dividers by @saradika

[bambidixon]

Just listen to me for one second and imagine this

You messed up. Big time. Not because it was a simple mistake, but because you didn’t listen. Again. You did what you thought was best, but it wasn’t. You almost got yourself and your team killed. Now everyone’s pissed—voices raised, scolding you like a damn child. Daryl knows you deserve it. Knows you screwed up. But still—he ain’t about to just stand there and watch them tear into you. No one gets to do that but him. So he steps in, shoving past them, eyes dark with something between anger and protectiveness. "Back the hell off," he snaps, voice like gravel, and before you can react, he grabs your arm—harder than he means to—and pulls you out of there.

The second you’re alone, he lets go, but only to start pacing. He’s fuming. Shoulders tight, jaw clenched. Then he turns on you. "What the hell were you thinkin'?" His voice is rough, edged with frustration. "You ain't invincible. You keep pullin’ shit like that, one day you ain't comin’ back."

His words hit like a slap, and before you can stop yourself, you fire back. "I was trying to help!"

"Yeah? Well, you didn’t!" He steps closer, voice rising. "You don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want ‘cause you ‘think it’ll work.’ You ain't out there alone. You got people countin’ on you."

It stings. Not just his words but the way he’s looking at you—disappointed, pissed, tired. Like he doesn’t even know what to do with you.

Your throat tightens, and you try to hold it together, but your voice cracks. You barely hear your own choked sob before you feel him freeze. Then, just like that, all that anger drains out of him.

Daryl exhales, rough and shaky. His hands twitch at his sides, like he don’t know what the hell to do— but then he just moves. Closes the space between you, pulls you in, holds you tight. You press your face into his chest, your fists gripping his vest.

He doesn’t say it, but the way his arms stay locked around you says enough. "Don’t do that again," he mutters, "Ain’t losin’ you."

[daddydixonscrossbow]

Just thinking about Daryl would react after not seeing you for more than a week.

You were at Oceanside, helping train a few of the new and upcoming fighters. Daryl was back home at Alexandria, and it’s been almost a week since you’ve seen each other.

“That’s right, step back, find your footing, and stab.” You say before demonstrating, “Now sometimes, you’re not going to have that time to get your footing, so another key thing to remember is to always, always have as good of a grip on your knife as you can.”

You hold out your hand, “You’re going to want to place it into your hand like so, the longer you use it, the more comfort you’ll find in it.”

“Hey, y/n.” One of the girls point, “Isn’t that Daryl?”

You turn your head, a smile spreading over your face as you see him walking across the beach, lifting his hand to wave to you, “Perfect, everyone take a break, we’ll get back to it in a little bit.”

You tuck your knife back into the holder before starting your trek down over the bank.

You run towards him, and he holds his arm out, “C’mere.” He groans as you jump into his arms, “There’s my girl.” He wraps his arms around you as tight as yours are around him, “You missed me that bad, huh?”

“Six days is far, too long.” You lean back, pressing your lips to his, “I thought you were coming tomorrow or whatever?” He shrugs, still holding you in his arms, “We got done early, figured I’d come by and watch you in action.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Fuck, I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life.”

“Yeah, tell me’bout it.” He rubs your back, “Dog misses you too. Slept in your spot every damn night.”

“Awe.” You pout, “I miss him.”

“We’ll get’cha back home soon enough.” He leans in to kiss your head, “What are ya teachin’em today?” You look up at him, “Knife skills.”

“You’re good with a knife.” He flicks his brows up and you laugh, “Saved your ass a few times with one didn’t I?” He sighs, “Hey now, no need to bring that up, alright, I just got here.” He slides his hand down, tucking it into your back pocket and squeezing, “Now get your ass back to work.”

Here’s a kiss for likin’ and rebloggin’ 💋

[daryltwdixon]

Teach You IV

Summary: Daryl can’t seem to get ahold of himself after the night you spent together. For days, you're all he can think about—your voice, your touch, the way you've unleashed a part of him he never knew existed. Nothing else matters, nothing else feels right, and when he sees you now, he knows he’s coming back for more. Always.

warnings: smut, MDNI, dirty talk, Daryl is a man possessed, pinv, oral, fingering, Daryl's POV

a/n: the amount of messages I've gotten about this fills my little heart with so much joy, you guys!!! thank you for loving what I do :')

not super proofread! sorry! will check later

The late afternoon bathes the room in golden light, casting soft shadows as Daryl watches her. She’s standing there, completely absorbed in some meaningless task—folding laundry, shifting supplies, something so mundane he can’t understand how she’s focused on it when he’s right here. She’s been taking up all the space in his mind, all the air in his lungs, and she has no idea.

Well, maybe she does. She’s the one who did this to him. The one who made him feel insatiable, so utterly out of control over his own thoughts and body.

Daryl leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, but it’s just to steady himself. His blood is running too hot, his heart pounding too fast, and it’s all because of her. His gaze drags over her, over the way her shirt clings to her back, the soft curve of her hips, the little furrow in her brow as she concentrates. She’s so calm, so collected, like she hasn’t absolutely ruined him.

Ever since that first night—hell, every night since—she’s been all he can think about. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees her. Feels her. The way she looked at him, the way she touched him, the way she felt under him—warm and soft and his. His cock has never been this hard, not at midnight, not first thing in the morning, and definitely not all goddamn day. And it’s all because of her.

His jaw clenches as the memories flood back: her taste, sweet and heady on his tongue. The way she whispered his name, gasping and desperate, like he was the only man in the world who could make her feel that way. Taking her for the first time, the way her body shifted and shivered beneath him as he rocked into her. It was like a switch he didn’t even know existed had flipped inside him, and now he’s nothing but want, need—fucking hunger.

His hands twitch at his sides. He tries to rein it in, to give her space, but it’s useless. His thoughts are wild and untamed, like he’s been starved his whole damn life and she’s the only thing that can satisfy him. He wants to feel her again, taste her again, bury himself so deep inside her that neither of them knows where one ends and the other begins.

And she’s just standing there, so calm, so unbothered. How can she not feel it? Doesn’t she know what she’s done to him?

“Alright,” he growls, the sound low and guttural as he finally pushes off the doorframe, done with just standing by and watching her as he unravels.

Her head snaps up, her hands pausing mid-motion. “Daryl?” she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion at the intensity in his voice.

But he doesn’t answer. He can’t. Words won’t do it, won’t scratch the itch clawing at him, the fire burning through his veins. He crosses the room in a few quick strides, his movements rough and purposeful. His hands grip her waist before she can react, lifting her clean off the floor and tossing her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing.

“Daryl!” she squeals, her fists playfully tapping at his back, though there’s laughter in her voice. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

He doesn’t bother answering, doesn’t stop. He’s already heading for the nearest surface—the couch, the bed, the table, he doesn’t fucking care. All that matters is her, laid out for him, ready for him to take her apart.

When he reaches the couch, he lowers her just enough to drop her onto the cushions, her legs still dangling over the edge as he looms over her. She looks up at him, her chest rising and falling as she takes him in, her eyes widening slightly at the look on his face.

“You’ve ruined me,” he growls, his voice like gravel as his hands cage her in on either side. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. About how you feel. About how you taste. I can’t think straight, can’t sleep. You’ve fucked me up, woman.”

Her eyes widen, her lips parting as she looks up at him, her breath catching in her throat. She’s not used to this—him talking so much, his words spilling out in a frantic, unfiltered rush. He knows it too. Knows he can be a little aloof, a bit of a dick when it comes to talking about what’s on his mind. But she’d broken him, shattered whatever walls he’d kept so carefully constructed, and now he couldn’t stop the rambling, couldn’t stop the truth from pouring out of him.

His hands travel up her body, sliding over her sides, his rough fingertips grazing her skin, skimming over her stomach. He slots his hips between her legs, pressing her further into the couch as her thighs fall open for him.

“I—” she starts, but he cuts her off, his hands finding her waist, his touch rough but trembling.

“Please,” he mutters, his voice low and desperate, almost trembling with the weight of his need. His hands glide over her sides, brushing against her ribs, feeling the heat of her skin through her thin shirt. “I need you. Every inch of you. Right fuckin’ now. Tell me yes. Please, say yes.”

Her cheeks flush even deeper, the red blooming across her neck and chest as she stares up at him. And then, slowly, her hands lift, sliding up to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice a soft, breathless sigh. “Yes, Daryl. Always yes.”

It’s all he needs. An inhuman noise rumbles deep in his chest, primal and desperate, as his lips crash against hers, needy and unrelenting. His hands grip her thighs, pulling her flush against him as he kisses her like a man possessed, all teeth and tongue and sheer, insatiable hunger.

"Goddamn," he mutters against her lips, his voice shaking as he pulls back just enough to look at her. His hands slide further up her legs, gripping her ass, his thumbs imprinting into the soft curves of her skin. "You've got me so fucked up. I can't think about anything else. Just you. Just this.'

His lips trail down her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse point as his fingers hook into her shorts. He doesn't wait for permission this time; he knows she's all in, knows she's just as wanton as he is. He tugs them down in one rough motion, taking her panties with them, leaving her bare and spread out before him.

His gaze drops to her center, and he groans, his head tipping back for a moment as he fights to keep himself together. "Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and reverent,"So fuckin' beautiful. So goddamn perfect." His hands grip her knees then, spreading her wider as he lowers himself between her legs.

His breath is hot against her skin, his mouth trailing hot, open kisses along the inside of her thighs, inching closer and closer to where she wants him most. Her sex glistens for him already, the sheen of slick luring him in.

"Daryl," she whines breathlessly, her fingers tangling in his hair as her hips lift off the couch.

He doesn't answer. Instead, he dives in, his tongue pressing flat against her slick heat, dragging up to circle her clit with slow, deliberate precision. The taste of her hits him like a drug, and he groans, his hands tightening on her thighs as he pulls her closer, needing more. 

"You taste so fuckin' sweet," he mutters against her, his voice muffled but filled with awe.

Her cries spur him on, her thighs trembling against his shoulders as he works her over, his mouth relentless and hungry. He licks and sucks and nips at her, devouring her like she's the only thing keeping him alive, like her pussy is the last source of water in a barren desert. He still didn’t know how to do this right, not really, but he knew what her gasps meant, knew what the shiver in her thighs told him. And God, he just wanted to keep making her feel that way. His tongue falters for a moment, unsure if he’s going too fast or too slow, but then her hips roll against him, and he takes that as a sign to keep going.

"Daryl," she whimpers, her voice trembling as her fingers tug harder at his hair. "Oh, fuck-don't stop. Please, don't stop."

Her pleading only fuels him, his tongue moving faster, his lips sealing around her clit as he slides two fingers inside her. Her body arches off the couch, her moans turning into desperate, breathless cries as he curls his fingers, stroking her exactly where she needs him. Her body responds instinctively, her words no longer coherent as her hips buck against him, riding the wave of her climax as it crashes over her.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow. His mouth and fingers work her through every shudder, every breathless gasp, coaxing every ounce of pleasure out of her until she’s trembling beneath him, her chest heaving as she collapses back onto the cushions.

But he’s far from done.

She’s still shaking when his pace begins to slow, his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to her slick heat as if to soothe her overstimulated body. Her breath comes in sharp, uneven bursts, her fingers gripping the cushions beneath her, but before she can catch her breath, his fingers curl again, pressing against that spongy spot inside her.

A sharp cry tears from her throat, her hips jerking involuntarily as the sensation sends a jolt of electricity through her.

“Daryl—” she starts, her voice trembling, but he just hums against her, his tongue dragging over her clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“Want another,” he mutters, his voice muffled against her skin, his words punctuated by the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers working her over. “Want more. Gotta see you like this again.”

Her head tips back, her body arching as overstimulation teeters dangerously close to overwhelming. “I—Daryl, it’s too much—” she gasps, but the words are lost in another moan as his fingers curl deeper, stroking that spot inside her with an almost maddening precision. If there was anything Daryl learned from their first time together, it was that he needed to know every single nook and crevice of her that made her come undone. Either with his mouth, his fingers, his cock. He was determined to learn her body inside and out. 

“You can take it,” he growls as his lips seal around her clit again. His tongue flicks against her, faster now, relentless, as if her pleasure is the only thing that matters. “You’re so good for me, baby.”

Her body tightens beneath him, her nails clawing at the cushions as her thighs tremble around his head. She’s teetering on the edge again, the line between pleasure and too much blurring as his words and his touch send her spiraling. The second always comes so much faster than the first, it’s like a domino falling inside her lower belly.

She was falling apart because of him. He couldn’t believe it—still didn’t really know what he was doing—but her gasps, her moans, they told him he was doing something right.

“Cum for me,” he mutters, his voice hoarse but commanding. “Wanna feel you again. Wanna hear you,”

Her body responds before her mind can catch up, her hips bucking against his mouth as another wave crashes over her. She cries out, her voice raw and broken, her walls clenching around his fingers as she tumbles over the edge for the second time.

He groans against her, his tongue slowing as he works her through it, coaxing every last shudder and gasp from her trembling frame. When she finally collapses fully against the couch, her body spent and trembling, he presses one last kiss to her inner thigh, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile.

As he moves to kneel between her legs again, her hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as her legs wrap around his waist, anchoring him to her. She’s still trembling from her release, her body pliant and warm beneath him, but she reaches up to capture his lips in hers, tasting herself on his now swollen, wet lips.

“Please, Daryl,” she says against his lips–now it was her begging him, and God if it didn’t take every last drop of restraint to wait for him to hear what she wanted next. How the hell did she look like that, sound like that, just because of him? He didn’t understand it, didn’t feel like he deserved it, but he was desperate to be worthy of her. He’d give her anything. Anything. 

“What is it, baby? What do you want? Tell me,” he groans against her, his hips rutting into her, the wetness of her center staining his jeans where his bugle meets her clit. “Need you,” she whines, gasping when he drags his hips against her harder, “Please. Fuck me, Daryl.”

That’s all he needs. His hands fumble at his waistband, his urgency making his movements clumsy as he shoves his pants and briefs down just enough to free himself. His cock is already hard, throbbing and aching with need as he grips the base, positioning himself at her entrance.

He pauses, his breath ragged as he meets her gaze again, his forehead pressing against hers. “Tell me if I’m hurtin’ you,” he murmurs, his voice low and shaky.

“You won’t,” she reassures him, her hands sliding down to rest on his arms, her touch grounding him. “I trust you.”

The words send a wave of warmth through him, his chest tightening as he pushes forward, the tip of him sliding into her with an agonizing slowness. He groans, low and guttural, as the heat of her surrounds him, and her gasp mirrors his, her nails digging lightly into his skin. 

This is all he’s thought about for days—taking her on the nearest surface, spreading her open, and burying himself deep inside her. The way she’d feel wrapped around him, her body clenching tight, pulling him in. But no amount of imagination, no desperate strokes of his own hand, could have prepared him for the way the real thing feels.

“God,” he mutters, his voice breaking as he sinks deeper, his hands trembling against her hips. “You’re so—fuck, you’re so tight.”

Her walls flutter around him, pulling a low groan from his throat. He can barely hold himself together, the heat and wetness of her stealing every coherent thought from his mind.

She moans softly, her hips tilting to take him in further, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “It’s too—too much, too big—” she breathes, her voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and something he can’t quite place.

His movements falter, his body stiffening as a rush of panic washes over him. He freezes, afraid of hurting her, afraid of pushing too far. His hips still as her words echo in his head, his hands trembling where they grip her hips. “Am I hurtin’ ya?” he asks, his voice tight with worry, his brow furrowing as he looks down at her.

Her hands slide up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his scruff. Her breath is shaky, her cheeks flushed, but there’s no fear in her eyes—only heat, only need.

“No,” she breathes, her voice trembling but steady. “It’s not that. I just—” She pauses, her lips parting as her head tilts back slightly. “I’ve never—never had someone so goddamn big.” Her voice breaks, her hands tightening on his arms as her hips shift beneath him. “You stretch me so good, Daryl. It’s just… overwhelming. In the best way.”

Her words send a bolt of heat straight through him, his cock twitching inside her as a low groan escapes his lips. “Jesus,” he mutters, his forehead pressing against hers. “You can’t say shit like that, woman. Gonna make me lose my mind,”

She laughs softly, the sound breathy and full of affection, and leans up to kiss him, her lips warm and teasing. “Then let me take over,” she whispers against his mouth, her fingers sliding down to his chest. “Let me show you how good you make me feel.”

He hesitates for a moment, his hands flexing against her hips. “You sure?” he asks, his voice low and rough, his gaze searching hers.

She nods, her smile widening as she cups his face again. “I’m sure,” she murmurs.

Reluctantly, he pulls back, his arms steadying her as she shifts beneath him. When his cock slips out of her, both of them hiss at the sudden loss of warmth, but she gently pushes at his chest to move up. And he moves with her, settling back against the cushions as she straddles his hips.

The sight of her above him, her body glowing in the soft afternoon light, takes his breath away. Her hands rest on his chest for balance, her legs bracketing his sides as she sinks down slowly, taking him back inside her inch by inch.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hands finding her thighs, his fingers pressing into her soft skin as his head tips back. 

Her moans match his, her body adjusting to the stretch, the fullness of him. “You feel so good,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she begins to move, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. “So good, Daryl.”

His hands slide to her waist under the hem of her shirt, steadying her as she sets the pace, her movements growing bolder with every passing second. The rhythm she creates is intoxicating, her body rising and falling above him, her warmth enveloping him completely.

“Let me see you,” he mutters, his voice low and reverent as his hands slide up her sides, his thumbs brushing over her ribs, his touch deliberate and worshipful. “Let me see these incredible tits, hunny.”

Her smile widens, her lips parting as her hands slide up her body, grazing over where his own rest on her waist. She takes her time, teasing, before finally gripping the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head. The discarded fabric lands somewhere behind the couch, forgotten, as her bare skin is revealed to him.

He doesn’t wait, doesn’t hesitate. His head leans forward like he’s being pulled by some gravitational force he could never—would never—ignore. His lips find her breast, his mouth latching onto a nipple with a low, guttural groan.

His tongue flicks over the hardened peak before drawing it into his mouth, sucking softly. Hands tightening on her waist, his thumbs brush over the curve of her ribs as he holds her steady while her hips continue to rock over him. 

She gasps, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as her hips grind against his. “Daryl,” she breathes, her voice trembling with pleasure. “God, yes, yes, yes,”

Her words spur him on, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud before his mouth moves to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. His tongue swirls, his lips pressing kisses along the soft swell of her skin, as though he’s worshipping every inch of her.

“You’re incredible,” he mutters between kisses, his voice hoarse and thick with awe. “Fuckin’ incredible.”

Her head tips back, her moans spilling from her lips as her hips roll against him, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through them both. “You’re the one making me feel this good,” she whispers, her voice thick and breathy. Her hands slide down to his shoulders, her nails grazing his skin as she pulls him closer. “This is all you, Daryl.”

Her words ignite something primal in him, his hands sliding down to grip her hips, guiding her movements as she rides him. The pace quickens, their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, their breaths mingling as the tension builds between them.

“You’re all I want,” he mutters, his voice breaking as he looks up at her, his gaze dark and full of need. “All I fuckin’ think about.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” she sighs, kissing him between breaths, “You’re all I ever think about, Daryl,” you shift your hips and panting, add: “Only man I want, that I need.”

And then it happens. The control he’s been clinging to, the restraint he’s forced himself to maintain, snaps like a taut string stretched too far. Something wild and unhinged breaks free inside him, the monster he’s tried to keep buried roaring to the surface.

Before she can even register the shift, his arms are wrapping around her, pulling her down against him so her stomach is flush to his chest, her breasts pressed into his face. She lets out a surprised yelp, her hands scrambling for purchase against his shoulders, but it’s quickly overtaken by a sharp, guttural moan as he buries himself deeper inside her.

“Daryl!” she gasps, her voice trembling as her hands cling to him, the couch, anything she can grab to stay steady.

He holds her tight, his muscles flexing as his arms cage her in, his body taking over completely. His hips snap up into her, relentless and unyielding, each thrust harder and faster than the last. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with her cries and his ragged groans, creating a symphony of raw, primal need.

Her head falls back, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she screams his name, her voice hoarse and broken with pleasure. And if she wasn’t moaning loud enough to disturb the neighborhood before, she sure as shit was now. The sheer force of his movements has her teetering on the edge of oblivion, her body trembling and she takes everything he’s giving, not able to form words or coherent thoughts anymore.

“That’s right, baby.” he growls, his voice raw and unrecognizable, his hands gripping her hips so tightly he knows he’ll leave marks. “Take that fucking cock, you’re so good, so perfect for it. Like your sweet pussy was made for me,”

The words pour out of him without thought, his mouth brushing against her chest, her neck, her collarbone, anywhere he can reach. He’s barely aware of what he’s saying, barely aware of anything except the overwhelming need to take her, to claim her, to lose himself completely in the heat and softness of her. He’s never known anything like this, where the words are even coming from, where this monster in his chest has escaped from.

Her body arches against him, her moans turning into desperate, breathless cries as she clings to him, her nails digging into his scalp, pulling his hair, “Daryl—I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it,” he growls, his hips driving up into her harder, deeper, his cock swelling as his own release builds. “Wanna feel you. Wanna hear you scream my fuckin’ name.”

And she does. Her body tenses, her thighs trembling as her release slams into her like a tidal wave. She cries out, her voice raw and ragged as her walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, her pleasure washing over her in uncontrollable waves.

The way she tightens around him, the way her body shakes and shudders in his arms, is enough to send him spiraling after her. He groans, his head tipping back as his hips jerk erratically, his cock pulsing as he spills into her, filling her completely.

His chest heaves as he holds her against him, his body trembling from the force of his release. They stay like that for a long moment, tangled together, their breaths mingling as the intensity of what just happened sinks in.

When he finally loosens his grip, his hands slide to her back, stroking her soothingly as her head rests against his shoulder. “You okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, his lips brushing against her ear.

She nods, a breathless laugh escaping her as she lifts her head to meet his gaze. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair sticking to her damp skin, but her smile is soft and curious, a hint of awe in her expression.

“I’m more than okay,” she whispers, her voice trembling with a mix of lingering pleasure and surprise. Her fingers trail lightly over his chest, and her lips curve into a teasing grin. “But… I feel like I unleashed something in you I didn’t know was there.”

His brows furrow slightly, the flush on his cheeks deepening as he looks away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well…” he mutters, his voice rough with embarrassment. “Ain’t never felt like this before. Never had—never been like this with anyone.” His gaze flickers back to hers, unsure but steady. “Guess you… bring somethin’ out in me.”

Her eyes soften, her fingers tracing along his jaw as she tilts his face back toward her. “Something incredible,” she says softly, her smile widening. “I like it. A lot.”

His lips twitch into a small, lopsided grin, his hand coming up to cup her face as his thumb brushes over her cheek. “You… you’re somethin’ else,” he mutters, his voice low and full of affection. “Don’t even feel like the same person I was before you.”

Her heart swells at his words, her chest tightening as she leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. When she pulls back, her smile is full of warmth. “Guess I ruined you in the best way, huh?”

He huffs a laugh, his forehead pressing against hers as his arms tighten around her. “Yeah,” he says, his voice soft but sure. “Guess you did.”

“S’okay,” she murmurs, her fingers trailing lightly over his shoulder. “Think you’ve ruined me too.”

The words hit him like a punch to the chest, his breath stuttering as his grip on her tightens. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice rough and low, like he doesn’t quite believe her but wants to more than anything.

“Yeah,” she whispers back, her lips curving into a soft smile as she breathes in, her forehead still against his, “Never thought I could feel like this—this full, this… complete. It’s all you, Daryl. You’ve changed everything.”

For a moment, he can’t speak, his throat too tight, his chest too full. Instead, he presses his lips to hers again, the kiss deep and slow, filled with everything he can’t quite say.