twd-bee3

[twd-bee3]

Daryl Dixon NSFW Alphabet

Warnings/Tags: porn with no plot, oral (f&m receiving), bondage, begging, switch!daryl, mdni, brief mentions of trauma/abuse, established relationship, female reader (she/her), no use of y/n

Word count: 2.1k words

A/N: These are just a bunch of my nasty headcanons for Daryl. I'm not saying that they're entirely accurate, but I love thinking about them. I did get a bit carried away, so this is extremely detailed for a NSFW alphabet. For those worried that I'm only going to be posting smut: I promise that I am writing different kinds of pieces. These posts are just an easy way for me to stay in the groove of creating. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

A: Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Since I believe that it takes a lot of trust and love for Daryl to be comfortable having sex, he takes aftercare very seriously. He cleans you up before he even thinks about his own comfort. As he does so, he murmurs praise and reassurances. The man cannot stop telling you how well you did and how beautiful you are. Even though, resources are limited in the early days of the apocalypse, he would still make sure that you were fed and hydrated after sex.

B: Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

Early on in both the show and your guys' relationship, he would be very insecure. Daryl didn't grow up receiving compliments, and he likely wouldn't have believed them anyway. He does become more confident as time goes on, and you play a large role in that. You always praise him and make sure he knows just much you love his body. His favorite part of his body would definitely be his arms. I mean, look at his fucking biceps and forearms!!

I don't believe he would have a type, so his favorite part of your body would rely on a variety of factors. If you were a bigger girl, he would be obsessed with your stomach and thighs. Daryl Dixon is a sucker for rolls. He does prefer tits to ass, but it has nothing to do with size. He just can't get enough of feeling your chest. Height doesn't matter to him, either.

C: Cum (anything to do with it)

This would depend on what stage of life he's in. When he's younger and in the early seasons of the show, he pulls out every single time. There's no way in hell that Daryl is risking an unexpected pregnancy. He'd much rather come on your tits. When the group first arrives in Alexandria, he's more willing to entertain the idea of kids, but it's not something either of you are trying for. Once he feels more secure in his life and/or home, he'd be okay with starting a family.

D: Dirty secret (literally just a dirty secret of theirs)

Daryl would never admit it to anyone outside your relationship, but he loves being submissive. Don't get me wrong, he gets off on being in power, but he'd trust you enough to relinquish control. You'd have to gently ease him into it at first, but he'd end up loving it. I'm not sure if this counts as a dirty secret, though.

E: Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

I wholeheartedly believe that Daryl is unexperienced when he first meets you. Maybe not a virgin, but he has minimal experience. This wasn't because women weren't interested in him - they definitely were. The main thing holding him back was his lack of confidence and the idea of being vulnerable. Obviously, this stems from his trauma. Once he gets the hang of things, he recognizes his strengths and fully embraces them.

F: Favorite Position (this goes without saying)

As long as it's with you, he doesn't care. Your comfort is his top priority, so he'd likely follow your lead. He doesn't have a favorite, but here are two that I think he'd like:

Missionary - Daryl loves the eye contact and intimacy that comes with this. He has an easy view of both your beautiful face and the body that he adores. It also allows him to have more control without having to be completely dominant.

Cowgirl - This gives you control and he absolutely loves it. You get to choose the pace and intensity, which allows him to turn his brain off. Similar to missionary, it permits him to have easy access to all of his favorite parts. If you have rolls, you best believe that his hands are all over them. It also gives him the opportunity to palm your tits.

G: Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they more humorous?etc.)

While he has no problem messing around with you in day-to-day life, he takes sex very seriously. He is fully focused on your pleasure and making sure that you feel comfortable with everything taking place. This man is the definition of locked in when the two of you are making love.

H: Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Let's remember that this entire show takes place during a zombie apocalypse. There is no fucking chance that he's going out of his way to groom himself. Norman has said it himself that this is the reason that Daryl doesn't cut his hair. Even in the later stages of the apocalypse, he could not be bothered to groom. The carpet most definitely matches the drapes.

Before the outbreak, I still stand by the fact that he wouldn't be trimming or shaving any of his body hair. Looking put together just isn't a priority of his.

I: Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect?)

Since sex requires a lot of trust for him, he takes intimacy very seriously. I've seen quite a few people suggest that Daryl's not romantic, and I could not agree less. Maybe in the early seasons he'd be less romantic, but I think that would have to do with his lack of experience. I believe that he is romantic, just not in a traditional sense. He's not going to be performing grand gestures or anything. There wouldn't be candles or rose petals, but you would be taken care of.

Daryl would go out of his way to praise you and remind you just how much he loves you. There would be little moments of intimacy; such as forehead kisses and stroking your hair. Again, he wouldn't be doing anything dramatic.

J: Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Maybe it's just me, but I don't think Daryl enjoys masturbating often. He'd much rather be pleased by or take his time pleasing you. There would be some exceptions, though. He might resort to it if he's separated from you for extended periods of time. I also think that he would be into mutual masturbation, but I'll elaborate more in the next section.

K: Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

These are very much inspired by the various smut fics that I have read and/or written. Here's three that I think that Daryl would enjoy the most. They're also separated into a dominant and submissive category. Disclaimer: similar to his absolute no's when it comes to sex, these can be traced back to his childhood trauma. He grew up lacking control, and these kinks reflect that. Overall, he'd need lots of encouragement and reassurances to feel comfortable engaging in all kinds of sex, but especially acts involving kink.

Begging: If he's being dominant, Daryl cannot get enough of seeing you beg for his cock. It permits him to be in control without using violence or degradation. He's really into it, but he won't make you beg for too long. Seeing you come is much more rewarding. If he's in a submissive space, he does have to be encouraged to beg. He trusts you, so it's easier for him to feel safe enough to let you be in control.

Mutual masturbation: This one would be a turn on for him, regardless of his headspace. You're giving him the opportunity to watch you get yourself off? It's a miracle he doesn't come in his pants. Being able to join you would excite him even more. This is a more vulnerable experience, but it allows you to both remain in control.

Bondage: While it may take you reassuring him that you're consenting, he would definitely enjoy it. This may even become one of his guilty pleasures. Similar to begging, he gets to be in power without inflicting fear or pain on you. I do, however, think he would be uncomfortable being restrained during sex. That could just be me, though.

L: Location (favorite places to do the do)

When it comes to location, I think that Daryl is pretty vanilla. The idea of either him or you being seen in a vulnerable position makes him uncomfortable. He'd definitely prefer having sex within your guys' home or a private space. A car would be perfectly acceptable, though

M: Motivation (what turns them on/gets them going)

He is so incredibly attracted to you that he would get turned on by nearly everything that you do. This could also depend on the headspace that he's in. If he's being more submissive, seeing you assert or handle yourself in various situations would always turn him on. In a dominant mindset, you coming to him for guidance wouldn't fail to make him horny. For example: if you were to need help with something he's experienced in, like hunting, he would be obsessed with the way that you listened and did what you were told.

N: No (something they wouldn't do)

He wouldn't do anything violent or degrading. This man experienced horrific abuse as a child, and it damaged his self-esteem. Daryl wouldn't feel comfortable inflicting physical or psychological pain on you. It wouldn't matter whether it was consensual or not, it triggers his brain all the same.

O: Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He knows what he is doing and is incredibly talented when it comes to his tongue. This man fucking devours you. He likes receiving, like most people do, but he prefers giving. There have also been more than one occasion where he has come from eating you out.

P: Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This would depend on his mood and headspace. I do believe that he would rather take his time and focus on your pleasure. Similar to a few of the other answers on this list, he would be willing to go with whatever you wanted. You want it fast and rough? No problem.

Q: Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

While he would prefer to take his time, Daryl can't get enough of you and would be more than willing to have a quickie. It's not his first choice, though. They were more convenient during the early seasons of the show, and would sometimes be the only option.

R: Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Depends on the kind of risk, but I think he'd be willing based on your enjoyment and with some encouragement. He would be eager to please you and would be open to trying most things. I'm not sure if he'd be into all of them, but he loves you enough to experiment. Obviously, his strict turn-offs would be things he wouldn't compromise on.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Let's be real, he is not a young man. I don't think that he would last very long, but he'd definitely be able to go more than one round. This would also depend on the day he's had. If he's exhausted from patrol or fighting walkers, he wouldn't be able to go as long.

T: Toys (do they own toys? do they use them on a partner or themselves?)

Honestly, I am not sure about this one. It's not that I don't think he'd be into it, but I do question the accessibility of sex toys in the apocalypse. I'm probably taking this too literally, though. He'd definitely be down to use toys on a partner if it was a viable option.

U: Unfair (how much they like to tease)

There would be some teasing involved, but he'd give into your desires fairly quickly. He's all about pleasing you and ensuring that you're enjoying yourself. If you were to explicitly tell him that you enjoy teasing, then he'd lean into that.

V: Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This totally depends on your location and what headspace he is in. If he's feeling dominant, there would be lots of grunting, moaning, and growling. In a submissive state, I believe this is when he'd be the most vocal, and there would be lots of whimpering and whining. These noises would primarily be made once the two of you have your own space. On the farm (season two) or locations that would involve being in close quarters of the group, he would be very careful to not get too loud.

W: Wild card (a random headcanon)

Daryl Dixon fucking loves a bush. I have no explanation for why I think this one other than the fact that I like it lmao.

X: X-ray (let's see what's going on beneath those clothes)

Don't come for me, but I don't think he's HUGE. Is he slightly above average, like 6–7 inches? Yes! Google says that the average erect penis size in the US is 5.1 to 5.5 inches, so that's what I'm basing this on. While he may not be exceptionally large, he is thick and his dick definitely curves to the left. I don't have an explanation for why I think his dick leans that way lmao. As for the rest of his body, this man is thick and muscular. He was thinner in the earlier seasons, but not by too much.

Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Even though he's older, Daryl's sex drive is as high as it's always been. He trusts you enough to be vulnerable, and would take every opportunity to show you his devotion. This made would absolutely worship you.

Z: Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep after)

As long as he's made sure that you're taken care of and cleaned up, Daryl is OUT. This man is a hard worker and would definitely be tired after having sex. He's also getting up there in age, and I don't think it would be realistic for him to have an exceptionally high stamina.

Please forgive me for how long and detailed this is. Again, I had a great time and I ended up going absolutely feral while creating these. I may believe these with all of my being, but I have no problem hearing other people's opinions and writing pieces that don't align with these.

[twd-bee3]

This immediately went to the favorites folder on my phone!!

𖧧 … 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒 𓏻 d.dixon ֶָ֢ ᐟ

summary: In the eyes of others, your relationship with Daryl might be seen as strange, clingy or childish in ways they don’t understand. but it’s yours, and it’s more than perfect.

pairing: daryl dixon x fem!reader — requested !

content warning: ddlg undertones. protectiveness. soft dom!daryl. bratty reader. slightly suggestive themes. typical daryl grumpiness. no explicit smut but spicy hints (?).

setting: alexandria arc, season six.

wc: 1.2 k words

It’s not that Daryl hated Alexandria. It’s just that he’d never actually been anywhere remotely like this in his entire life. He had spent his childhood in a running-down cabin on the outskirts of Georgia. His adulthood in crappy apartments with Merle. And the last few days before the world went to hell, in even crappier neighbourhoods.

So yeah, for Daryl, the walls of Alexandria were too perfect and pretty to be true. Too clean. Too normal. Too fake. He didn’t trust them, didn’t trust the people inside who smiled bright and wide, acting like the world wasn’t rotten just past the gates.

The whole place made him feel suffocated. Trapped. Like a bird in a golden cage. But if being here meant you had a roof over your head, a full meal on your plate, and a real bed to rest in, he’d kept his mouth shut and crossbow near, of course, just in case.

Besides, having you by his side already made all of this a little bit more bearable.

You didn’t make it easy, though.

“Daryl,” you mumbled, dragging out his name as you tugged at his sleeve. “Help me...” You leaned your chin against his shoulder, watching him fiddle with bike parts. “M’bored,” you whined, just low enough for him to hear.

He grunted something unintelligible, —probably an “ain’t my problem”—, as he tried to focus on the wrench in his hand. “Go help Carol with the pantry or sumthin’.”

You huffed and swayed softly against him, pressing your face between his shoulder blades like you were trying to glue yourself there. “Nuh-huh. Wanna stay with you.”

Daryl’s jaw worked, but his eyes softened when he glanced at you. “Ya act like a damn kid sometimes,” his voice sounded tired—almost frustrated, though the way he shifted, letting you crowd him without shoving you off, told another story.

“So are you going to do something to entertain me or not?” Your eyes locked onhis, glinting with mischief.

“Ain’t here t’entertain ya,” he slipped out of your embrace and walked over his motorcycle, crouching down to check something on the tire.

You pouted, crossing your arms like a spoiled kid who was denied a candy bar. “Then what good are you?”

That earned you a sharp look, though he kept working on his bike. “Ya know I don’t let ya talk t’me like that.”

Your lips curved into a smug little smirk. “Yeah, but you never really stop me either.”

His nostrils flared as he set the wrench down. He grabbed the red rag from the seat and wiped his hands. “Yer a pain in my ass,” he muttered. But when you wandered closer again, and dropped down beside him, clinging to his arm, he didn’t shove you off.

Later, you walked through Alexandria’s streets together. You arm was looped through his, head tilted against his shoulder, eyes bright and wide as you rambled on about Carol’s cookies, and a funny dream you had had.

Most people would’ve told you to shut up by now, or shaken you off. But Daryl never did. He walked steady beside you, listening in his own quiet way. Occasionally giving low grunts that let you know he was paying attention. And when your boot caught the edge of the curb, his arm tightened around yours, steadying you before you could stumble.

People stared at you both as you passed by. Not because of his crossbow, or the fact that he was still filthy as hell from his early run, —though that earned looks too—, but because of the way you clung to his arm, acting like he was the only man who existed in your world.

Because if we’re being honest, he was.

Tobin walked past, lifting a hand in greeting. You beamed and waved back with an excited, “Hi hi, Tobin!” while Daryl only gave him a curt nod.

But as Tobin’s eyes flicked between the two of you, his brows pulled together in confusion. His mouth twitched, like he was on the verge of asking a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

In the end, he just kept walking.

“Saw that?” you whispered, biting back a giggle. “He probably thinks we’re weird.”

“Well, we are weird,” Daryl muttered, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

That wasn’t the only look you got that day. Not even close. Things got even worse at dinner, where everybody was sitting at Rick’s table.

You were squeezed in right beside him, too close for the narrow chair, your knees brushing his under the table. You picked at your food with no real interest—strange, considering just weeks ago you’d eaten dog meat on the road without complaint, but well, you were literally starving back then. Daryl noticed, as always, the way you weren’t really eating, sneaking subtle glances at his plate instead.

Without hesitation, he slid his plate in front of you and took yours. Your eyes lit up instantly, and you hummed in delight as you dug in. “Thanks, daddy,” you whispered just for him to hear.

Daryl’s fork paused mid-air. His ears went bright red as he gave you a side-eye sharp enough to cut glass. “Behave,” he growled low, so no one else could hear.

You smirked and leaned into him. “Or what?” The way his eyes lingered on you after those particular words, sent a shiver straight through your core.

Rick raised an eyebrow from across the table, like he was watching something he didn’t want to see. Michonne just bit back a smile behind her glass.

After dinner, back in the dark safety of your shared room where the walls muffled the laughter from the rest of the community, Daryl finally cornered you, stepping between your knees. Rough palms gripped your thighs as you sat on the edge of the bed. His face was close, hair falling into his face, eyes blazing low and frustrated.

“Ya like makin’ people think sumthin’s wrong with us, huh?” he rasped. “Pushin’ my buttons, teasin’ me ‘till everybody will look at us like we’re sick in the head. Ya like that, dontcha?”

You blinked up at him innocently, curling your fingers into the worn leather of his vest. “Maybe. I like when you get all growly.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, but his hands tightened. His mouth brushed your ear when he muttered, “Keep it up and m’gonna put ya over my knee. See if yer still smilin’ then.”

Your breath hitched, heat curling low in your belly. His voice was low, dangerous, but it wasn’t real anger. It was that feral, possessive edge you’d learned to tug out of him, and it made you smile even as your pulse raced. “You wouldn’t.”

“Test me.”

The silence hung hot and heavy between you. But then he sighed, eyes softening. His hand came up to stroke your hair, tugging you against his chest. “Yer trouble,” he muttered again, pressing his chin to the top of your head.

You smiled into his shirt, nuzzling softly against his tummy as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “Your trouble.”

A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk formed in his lips, “yep, my trouble.”

Outside those walls, people might squint, tilt their heads, and wonder what the hell was going on between you and Dixon, because something seemed to be off.

And maybe it was. Sweet, bratty, heated, and strange.

But it was yours, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

⭑𓂃 heaven ✶ written in the language of the starts ✶ love ˚ ᵎᵎ

𔓘 main masterlist. 𖧧 navigation. 𖧧 join my taglist here.

ᯓ 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐭��𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⊹ @tamakiamajikisgf @whsschuu @dixonsdarkelf @dixons-sunshine @holdmytesseract @astermwah @my-name-is-heartache @pr3ttygrlz @miss0giarra @imadisneyprincessiswear @xakilicious

ᯓ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 : by me.

ᯓ𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : I don’t know how to write ddlg, I’m so sorry if this was not good. 😭 I tried to do my best, but I’m not satisfied at all with this. I’d modified and edited it like ten times, I swear, and each time I couldn’t come up with something good to make it better. 😞 At least I hope you liked it, dear annon. 🥺

[twd-bee3]

Tied Up (smut)

Summary: You and Daryl experiment with rope in the bedroom.

Warnings/Tags: porn with no plot, bondage, ropes, soft-dom!daryl, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season five, no use of y/n

Word count: 291 words

A/N: This is just a quick blurb because I had the idea and immediately had to write it lmao. The ending is incomplete, which is part of the reason that I'm not counting this as a oneshot. I will, however, be open to expanding and writing a oneshot for this if y'all are into it. Enjoy this, you little freak (the freak is me).

“You sure you're okay with this, baby?”

“I'm sure.”

Of course, you were sure, this was your idea after all. The way that Daryl could be both dominant and gentle at the same time never failed to turn you on. You smiled softly as he carefully lifted your arms above your head and used the rope to tether your hands. His large, calloused hands moved with confidence as he joined the two ends of the rope. You don't live the kind of life that Daryl Dixon has and not learn how to tie a good knot.

Pulling on one end, he made sure that the knot was secure and leaned forward to place a kiss to your forehead. He searched your expression for any hint of hesitation, and sighed contentedly when he found none.

“You're bein' such a good girl for me, darlin'. Ain't movin' 'round or nothin'.”

Daryl's soft praise was music to your ears, and your smile grew even wider. This was exactly what you'd been craving when you brought up the idea of bondage. You'd never trusted a partner enough to completely relinquish control like this before. Judging by the way his hard length was pressed against you, he was equally excited. You couldn't help, but thank him for giving you this experience.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Are you ready for me? You always take me so well.”

Eagerly nodding, you squirmed in anticipation and parted your legs without having to be asked. This pleased Daryl to no end, and he slowly buried himself into your core. Feeling your warmth and slickness, he let out a small moan. He started pressing searing kisses to the side of your neck and murmured praises between gasps.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”

[twd-bee3]

Daryl sitting with Shiva after visiting Carol in her self-imposed exile is such perfect storytelling symbolism.

***

Exhibit A: Carol surrounded by bars, horizontal behind her, vertical in the foreground

Exhibit B: She turns around but there are more prohibitive/protective bars in the bookshelf behind her

Exhibit C: Fencing around her cabin that applies equally to the alive and the unalive

Exhibit D (that's what she said): Framed by the doorway, unable to move beyond the porch

Exhibit E: Cages within cages, the pergola and lattice giving a visual representation of Carol's mind? She almost turns to follow him here but stops herself, making clear that her captivity is of her own making.

Exhibit F: They literally cut from this

to this, illustrating how Carol is imprisoning her deadly and instinctive might and power.

Exhibit G: Daryl in front of the bars (inside the cage)

and behind them (outside the cage).

and, let us not forget Exhibit H: Carol nuzzling Daryl in goodbye (as he nuzzles her)

and Shiva nuzzling him in goodbye.

We could also talk about the mythical implications of Shiva (the Destroyer) as related to Carol's arc. We could talk about how Carol unapologetically turns away a bunch of people right before Daryl shows up. And how, when he does, her resolve instantly crumbles and there's absolutely no question that he'll gain entry to her cage/sanctuary. We could talk about Morgan noting how good Daryl is with Shiva (as he is with Carol). And we should probably mention the smile on Daryl's face when he exits after having a candlelit dinner with his beloved bestie.

(That's about as smiley and giddy as Daryl gets....until he realises, she isn't following him).

I rest my case.

[twd-bee3]

Hello hello! I love the way and style you write, its honestly so tasty, especially the angst. I would love to write angst personally but I'm never really sure where to start or how to go about it. Do you have any certain inspirations or tips for when you write it?

First off, you are so sweet omg!! I know that angst is difficult for other people to write, but I’ve never really had a problem with it. The main reason for that is that I exclusively read angst when I was younger and I was able to pick up on a variety of different things. One tip that I have is to focus on the emotions of the characters. I try to use as much descriptive, emotional language as possible. As for inspiration, I would say reading lots of angst fics and watching angsty movies/shows. I’ve always preferred media that makes me feel, so writing angst comes easy to me. This answer is looking kind of rambly so hopefully it’s helpful lmao

[twd-bee3]

Ok I'm gonna tell you cuz no body In my family is interested 🫠 I just finished season 2 yesterday. And let me just say Dale's death, totally didn't expect it neither did I Shane but less sad about that jack ass. I'm vaguely aware of the story going forward. Aware of how most of them die and how the writing goes downhill after season 6😮‍💨 But still super excited to continue even tho I know what happens to Lori in the 3rd season😶. But I also know that Daryl doesn't die cuz he gets his spin off so yay! (I am also vaguely aware of what gonna happen to him, and I'm so not prepared. Somthing about easy street and him being tortured 🤷‍♀️ idk)

Omg I remember being so shocked by both Dale and Shane’s deaths. I also had Lori’s situation spoiled so I definitely expected that one lmao. A lot of people say that the writing goes downhill and I agree when it comes to the storyline and certain characters. I really enjoy the later seasons, though. As for what happens to Daryl… all I can say is good luck🙏🏻

[twd-bee3]

hiii!! do you have any prompt lists you like the look of that we can pick from?

wait this is such a good idea but i’m not sure where to find these. anon and anyone else, feel free to send me some!!

[twd-bee3]

Life Update & Send Requests

Hello, lovelies!! In my pinned introduction post, I mentioned being chronically ill and I am currently dealing with some health issues. At the moment, I have a UTI and a kidney stone. I’ve been absolutely miserable, but we keep pushing. The only positive is that I have a lot more time to write. Please keep sending requests/asks and entertain me🙏🏻

[twd-bee3]

First Touch

Summary: Both you and Daryl sustained minor injuries while on a run. You guys take turns patching each other up, and the moment is surprisingly intimate.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, description of a minor injury, wound care, touch-starved, slight reference to child abuse, slow-burn relationship, female reader (she/her), season three, no use of y/n

Word count: 625 words

A/N: This is a shorter piece, but it's been sitting in my drafts for a while, and I like it. It was one of the first things that I wrote when I began writing fanfiction again, so if it's not the same quality as my other works, that's why. This was supposed to be posted a few days ago but my reception was worse than I anticipated. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this one <3

As the antiseptic met the small laceration on Daryl's bicep, he felt the sting and grimaced slightly. You used a small scrap of fabric and a cleaning solution to treat the wound. You kept going and mumbled an apology. He had insisted that he was fine, but you wanted to help him. Besides, he was known for forgetting to take care of his wounds properly. It wasn't because he didn't know how - the countless years of living under his father's roof had caused him to grow accustomed to that, Daryl just didn't pay attention when it came to his health. He was more concerned with the people he loves' well-being.

“You ain't need to be doin' all this. I coulda handled it myself.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn't entertain his protests. He squirmed a little, and you groaned softly. Why was he making this so difficult? You knew that he wasn't bothered by the pain, so it had to be something else. What you didn't know was that Daryl was getting worked up over how close you were to him. As he sat on the prison cot, you were standing between his legs and focusing on your task.

He moved again, and you finally had to say something, “Would you hold still? You're drivin' me crazy?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Looking a little sheepish, he stiffened and gave you a quick nod. Your proximity was driving him crazy. Daryl would never admit that, though. You kept making eye contact, but he continually looked away. You always furrowed your brows and slightly scrunched your nose when you focused. It was oddly endearing, but he didn't want to stare. He looked away again and took a sudden interest in the concrete floor.

Finally finished disinfecting the area, you wrapped a bandage around his arm and checked that it was secure. His gaze lifted, and he met your eyes again. Daryl looked over your face and noticed the cut on your cheek. It wasn't deep, and it likely wouldn't scar, but he was concerned nonetheless.

“Let me take a look at that.”

Daryl's voice was gruff, and he leaned in a little closer to get a look at the wound. Getting a better view of your face, his suspicions were confirmed, and he knew that the cut needed to be cleaned. He leaned over and grabbed a fresh cloth from the makeshift bedside table. Wetting it, he raised it to your face and paused, silently asking for permission.

Despite your initial urge to be stubborn, you gave in and nodded. Daryl's touch was surprisingly gentle as he brought the cloth to your cheek and started wiping away the dirt. His movements were careful, but his hands were ever-so slightly shaking. Was it the adrenaline from the fight finally leaving his body? Maybe it was something else entirely.

“I'm okay. You know that, right? We're good.” Your voice was soft, and it was obvious that you had picked up on his tension.

Daryl was subconsciously clenching his jaw, and he struggled to meet your eyes again. “Yeah, I know. We're fine.”

The problem wasn't that he was anxious; he was struggling with desire. Letting himself fall for you would complicate things and open him up to losing another person.

After a beat of silence, you guys finally made eye contact. The breath caught in both of your throats, and Daryl realized that he'd been resting his hand on your cheek. He made no effort to move, though. The cut had been properly treated, and there was no reason for him to keep touching you, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away.

Seeing that you had also stayed in place, he took an unsteady breath and spoke quietly. “That better?”

[twd-bee3]

Going on Another Trip

July seems to be the month of vacations, so my account will be more inactive than usual. You can expect a post tonight, but it will be my last one for a while. I will still be interacting and catching up on my moots posts. As always, here's another one of my favorite Norman photos!!

[twd-bee3]

sorry for breaking y’all’s hearts like always lmao

also, i got internet a little earlier than expected so i am trying to catch up on reading all of my moots posts🙏🏻

Knife's Edge

Summary: After a tough run that resulted in the loss of a group member, you wake up to realize just how much Daryl has been carrying.

Warnings/Tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, suicidal ideation, references to self-harm (doesn't occur in the fic), depression, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season two, no use of y/n

Word count: 1.1k words

A/N: As someone who deals with mental health issues and has struggled with the themes of this piece, writing this meant a lot to me. It's heavily implied that Daryl is passively suicidal, and it can be seen in the earlier seasons of the show where he has little regard for his safety. I can't remember the exact episode or season, but there's a scene where he doesn't hesitate to stay in a locked car surrounded by walkers so that Aaron can get out. This can be interpreted as him being sacrificial, but I've always thought that it was him not caring whether or not he made it out. Anyway, there's a major trigger warning for self-harm and ideation in this fic. If you find yourself in a mental health crisis and you live in the US, call or text 988.

Feeling the absence of Daryl's warmth, you stirred from your slumber and rolled over. He wasn't in the bed, which wasn't usually concerning, but something felt off. There was no way to explain what you were feeling - maybe it was gut instinct. The lamp was on, and it took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the soft light.

You looked over at the corner of the tent and saw Daryl sitting there. He was cleaning one of his hunting knives, and he had a far-away look in his eyes. His hands trembled slightly, and his gaze lingered on the blade for a beat too long. You sat up on the cot and spoke softly so you wouldn't startle him.

“Daryl, baby, what's goin' on?”

He flinched and looked up at you with a stunned look on his face. Daryl didn't drop the knife; if anything, his grip tightened. “Ain't gonna do nothin'.”

Picking up on what he was implying, you stood up and walked over to him. You'd been in the same place he was, and you knew how dangerous this line of thinking could be. You crouched in front of him and held your hand out.

“Please give me that.”

Daryl hesitated and turned his head to avoid your gaze. You weren't going to stop, though.

“Daryl, please.”

Taking a shaky breath, he nodded and slowly handed you the knife. You laid it to the side and sat down beside him. He was anxiously fumbling with the hem of his shirt, and you could tell that he was trying not to look at your face.

“What's goin' on in your head?”

For a moment, Daryl hesitated again before speaking quietly. His voice wavered, and his tone was much more timid than you were used to.

“Somethin' ain't right with me. Can't sleep or stop thinkin'. It should've been me, y'know?”

The group had lost someone on this last run, and Daryl took it harder than expected. Your heart broke hearing what he had said, and you reached over to gently grab his hand. Initially, he tensed, but then he softened into your touch. Your fingers interlaced, and you did your best to stay calm. Panicking or making him feel guilty would only make things worse.

“I know it might feel that way, but I'm really glad that it wasn't you. You mean a great deal to me, and I wouldn't be the same if I lost you.”

Even though he was refusing to make eye contact, you watched as his eyes filled with tears and he quickly tried to blink them away. Watching him struggle felt sickeningly familiar, and it made your chest ache.

“I wasn't actually gonna do nothin' - was just thinkin' 'bout it. I'm real tired, sweetheart. Maybe things would be easier if everythin' just stopped.”

“Your pain might've been gone, but you would've just passed it on to me.”

You weren't saying this to shame him; it was simply the truth. You would be lost without him, and it was devastating to see him like this. You controlled your reaction, though.

To your surprise, your words got through to him, and that's when he broke down. He was crying, but it wasn't dramatic, loud weeping. This was his body finally releasing what it had been holding. His shoulders shook with silent sobs, and his hands instinctively covered his face. As a child, he'd been taught not to show emotion in front of others, but you were different. You were safe.

Without saying anything, you pulled him closer and held him through it. Daryl's body shook against yours, and his hands were still shielding his face. You regulated your breathing in an attempt to encourage him to match it and carefully ran your fingers through his hair.

“I've got you, baby. Ain't goin' nowhere.”

Usually, he wouldn't let anyone hold him like this, but he allowed it. His breathing was starting to even out, and his tears had slowed down. Daryl removed his hands from his face and lay his head in your lap. Seeking out your comfort like this made him feel weak, but he couldn't help it.

You continued stroking his hair, and you used your fingernails to lightly scratch his scalp. This sometimes helped him sleep, and you hoped that it would soothe him. He was still taking measured breaths, but he was calming down. After a moment, he broke the silence and turned his head to look up at you through damp eyelashes.

“I'm sorry for breakin' down on you like I'm some kind of pussy. Ain't s'posed to get like this.”

“Don't ever apologize for bein' human, baby. I'd rather see you like this than have to bury another person that I love.”

Trying not to get emotional again, he nodded and dragged his calloused palm over his face to clear his tears. Your words were comforting, and your touch helped in ways that he couldn't even begin to describe. He felt a wave of gratitude wash over him, and he couldn't help the small smile that pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Thank you for bein' here with me, darlin'. It helps more than you could ever know. I hope that I ain't scare you or nothin'.”

“You didn't scare me at all, my love. I've been in your position - I used to try to bleed out all the bad in my life. It doesn't help, though.”

Hearing that hurt his heart, but he was thankful that you were being honest. Daryl didn't want you to feel the same darkness that he did, but he appreciated you sharing that with him. He knew how hard it was for you to be open about your mental health.

“I'm sorry that you felt that way. Do you ever get that urge now?”

“Sometimes, but I've got good people around me and reasons to stay. Just like you do. I know it's hard to see that, though.”

”I feel it, but it ain't somethin' that I'm used to. I'm not sure that I even deserve it.”

“You deserve everythin', baby. Let me help you carry this.”

Relaxing into your touch again, he felt himself getting drowsy, and he nodded against your lap. If you kept this up, he would be asleep in a few minutes. You used your free hand to trace the features of his face, and smiled softly as you watched his shoulders fully drop.

“You wanna move back to the bed or stay here?”

“Can we just lie like this? It feels good.”

You watched Daryl cringe a little at the neediness in his voice, but you didn't stop your movements. You continued what you were doing and nodded.

“Of course, my love.”

Within minutes, his eyes fluttered shut, and his body sagged against you. Daryl was fast asleep, and you allowed yourself to rest. The two of you slept like this - your back against the tent wall and him sprawled across your lap until the early morning.

[twd-bee3]

Knife's Edge

Summary: After a tough run that resulted in the loss of a group member, you wake up to realize just how much Daryl has been carrying.

Warnings/Tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, suicidal ideation, references to self-harm (doesn't occur in the fic), depression, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season two, no use of y/n

Word count: 1.1k words

A/N: As someone who deals with mental health issues and has struggled with the themes of this piece, writing this meant a lot to me. It's heavily implied that Daryl is passively suicidal, and it can be seen in the earlier seasons of the show where he has little regard for his safety. I can't remember the exact episode or season, but there's a scene where he doesn't hesitate to stay in a locked car surrounded by walkers so that Aaron can get out. This can be interpreted as him being sacrificial, but I've always thought that it was him not caring whether or not he made it out. Anyway, there's a major trigger warning for self-harm and ideation in this fic. If you find yourself in a mental health crisis and you live in the US, call or text 988.

Feeling the absence of Daryl's warmth, you stirred from your slumber and rolled over. He wasn't in the bed, which wasn't usually concerning, but something felt off. There was no way to explain what you were feeling - maybe it was gut instinct. The lamp was on, and it took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the soft light.

You looked over at the corner of the tent and saw Daryl sitting there. He was cleaning one of his hunting knives, and he had a far-away look in his eyes. His hands trembled slightly, and his gaze lingered on the blade for a beat too long. You sat up on the cot and spoke softly so you wouldn't startle him.

“Daryl, baby, what's goin' on?”

He flinched and looked up at you with a stunned look on his face. Daryl didn't drop the knife; if anything, his grip tightened. “Ain't gonna do nothin'.”

Picking up on what he was implying, you stood up and walked over to him. You'd been in the same place he was, and you knew how dangerous this line of thinking could be. You crouched in front of him and held your hand out.

“Please give me that.”

Daryl hesitated and turned his head to avoid your gaze. You weren't going to stop, though.

“Daryl, please.”

Taking a shaky breath, he nodded and slowly handed you the knife. You laid it to the side and sat down beside him. He was anxiously fumbling with the hem of his shirt, and you could tell that he was trying not to look at your face.

“What's goin' on in your head?”

For a moment, Daryl hesitated again before speaking quietly. His voice wavered, and his tone was much more timid than you were used to.

“Somethin' ain't right with me. Can't sleep or stop thinkin'. It should've been me, y'know?”

The group had lost someone on this last run, and Daryl took it harder than expected. Your heart broke hearing what he had said, and you reached over to gently grab his hand. Initially, he tensed, but then he softened into your touch. Your fingers interlaced, and you did your best to stay calm. Panicking or making him feel guilty would only make things worse.

“I know it might feel that way, but I'm really glad that it wasn't you. You mean a great deal to me, and I wouldn't be the same if I lost you.”

Even though he was refusing to make eye contact, you watched as his eyes filled with tears and he quickly tried to blink them away. Watching him struggle felt sickeningly familiar, and it made your chest ache.

“I wasn't actually gonna do nothin' - was just thinkin' 'bout it. I'm real tired, sweetheart. Maybe things would be easier if everythin' just stopped.”

“Your pain might've been gone, but you would've just passed it on to me.”

You weren't saying this to shame him; it was simply the truth. You would be lost without him, and it was devastating to see him like this. You controlled your reaction, though.

To your surprise, your words got through to him, and that's when he broke down. He was crying, but it wasn't dramatic, loud weeping. This was his body finally releasing what it had been holding. His shoulders shook with silent sobs, and his hands instinctively covered his face. As a child, he'd been taught not to show emotion in front of others, but you were different. You were safe.

Without saying anything, you pulled him closer and held him through it. Daryl's body shook against yours, and his hands were still shielding his face. You regulated your breathing in an attempt to encourage him to match it and carefully ran your fingers through his hair.

“I've got you, baby. Ain't goin' nowhere.”

Usually, he wouldn't let anyone hold him like this, but he allowed it. His breathing was starting to even out, and his tears had slowed down. Daryl removed his hands from his face and lay his head in your lap. Seeking out your comfort like this made him feel weak, but he couldn't help it.

You continued stroking his hair, and you used your fingernails to lightly scratch his scalp. This sometimes helped him sleep, and you hoped that it would soothe him. He was still taking measured breaths, but he was calming down. After a moment, he broke the silence and turned his head to look up at you through damp eyelashes.

“I'm sorry for breakin' down on you like I'm some kind of pussy. Ain't s'posed to get like this.”

“Don't ever apologize for bein' human, baby. I'd rather see you like this than have to bury another person that I love.”

Trying not to get emotional again, he nodded and dragged his calloused palm over his face to clear his tears. Your words were comforting, and your touch helped in ways that he couldn't even begin to describe. He felt a wave of gratitude wash over him, and he couldn't help the small smile that pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Thank you for bein' here with me, darlin'. It helps more than you could ever know. I hope that I ain't scare you or nothin'.”

“You didn't scare me at all, my love. I've been in your position - I used to try to bleed out all the bad in my life. It doesn't help, though.”

Hearing that hurt his heart, but he was thankful that you were being honest. Daryl didn't want you to feel the same darkness that he did, but he appreciated you sharing that with him. He knew how hard it was for you to be open about your mental health.

“I'm sorry that you felt that way. Do you ever get that urge now?”

“Sometimes, but I've got good people around me and reasons to stay. Just like you do. I know it's hard to see that, though.”

”I feel it, but it ain't somethin' that I'm used to. I'm not sure that I even deserve it.”

“You deserve everythin', baby. Let me help you carry this.”

Relaxing into your touch again, he felt himself getting drowsy, and he nodded against your lap. If you kept this up, he would be asleep in a few minutes. You used your free hand to trace the features of his face, and smiled softly as you watched his shoulders fully drop.

“You wanna move back to the bed or stay here?”

“Can we just lie like this? It feels good.”

You watched Daryl cringe a little at the neediness in his voice, but you didn't stop your movements. You continued what you were doing and nodded.

“Of course, my love.”

Within minutes, his eyes fluttered shut, and his body sagged against you. Daryl was fast asleep, and you allowed yourself to rest. The two of you slept like this - your back against the tent wall and him sprawled across your lap until the early morning.

[twd-bee3]

Inactive Until Monday

I'm going to be going camping and will not have internet for the next several days. There will be a new post later tonight, but that will be it for a while. Can't wait to read more when I get back!! Anyway, here's another one of my favorite Norman Reedus pics <3

[twd-bee3]

fell to my knees reading this

hello to my favorite writer on tumblr!! totally understand if you don't this cause it's a little freaky... and also ik you have a lot of requests rn so no worries/pressure trust me i get it queen🩷🩷

anyways my idea involves daryl and c*ckwarming... like reader being to tired to have sex but complaining to daryl about feeling empty and he just puts it in to make her feel better/full and they just fall asleep UGHHH it'd be so sweet. and hey maybe that's not even that freaky but anyways

again your such a great writer and remember to be kind to yourself/give yourself a break if you need to!! <3

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Empty

⌇daryl dixon x reader

summary⌇cockwarming with daryl :3

warnings⌇cockwarming but no actual 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 stuff

word count⌇0.9k

a/n⌇first off I LOVE YOU ANON THANK YOU MY LOVE 🫰🫰 this isn’t too 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 if anything this is one of the most TAME things i’ve written! second—i totally forgot i wrote this i just opened google docs to start something else and it opened to this omg here guys enjoy and like and subscribe for more

The bed was too big without him.

The sheets were warm, freshly tossed from his side of the mattress, but the weight was gone. You curled your knees toward your chest, burying your face in the pillow he’d just slept on. It still smelled like him—something only he carried. Your eyes burned.

You weren’t sad. Not really. Just… tired.

Empty.

Nothing in you wanted to cry or scream or even move. You just laid there, blinking slow, like a machine that hadn’t powered off properly.

The door creaked open. His footsteps were quiet—always were—but your body still twitched at the familiar sound.

You didn’t lift your head. Just sighed softly into the pillow. “You showered?”

“Yeah.” His voice was low, raspy. “Didn’t mean t’wake ya.”

You shook your head lazily, still not looking at him. “Wasn’t asleep.”

There was a pause. Then the mattress dipped behind you and you felt his palm slide across your waist as he leaned close.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he murmured.

You swallowed hard. You didn’t mean to say it—didn’t even plan to—but your voice cracked on instinct, low,

“I just feel empty.”

His hand stopped. Stayed right there, holding you like he was afraid to let go.

You heard him exhale through his nose. Then he kissed your shoulder, soft and slow.

“You ain’t gotta do nothin’, alright? Don’t gotta talk. Don’t gotta explain.”

“Just lemme hold you.”

You finally turned your head. Your eyes met his. The softness in them nearly broke you. There wasn’t pity, there was only care.

He kissed your cheek. Brushed your hair back. Let his fingers linger a little longer along your jaw, then whispered:

“Y’wanna feel close, baby? Jus’ need me to stay?”

You blinked back warmth. Nod. “I just… don’t want to feel like this anymore. Just for tonight.”

He nodded too. “Yeah? I gotcha. C’mere.”

Daryl pulled you into him, tugging the sheets down, the quiet of the night swallowing the space between your bodies. He undressed you gently—not like he wanted to fuck you, not like he was rushing. Just carefully. Like undressing a wound.

He slid off his own boxers, slow and quiet. His hands were warm when they moved across your hips, guiding you into his lap. You straddled him, breath catching just a little as he lined himself up.

There was no fanfare. No foreplay. Just… connection.

The stretch was warm and easy, your body already so used to his. You sank down with a sigh that caught in your throat, pressing your chest to his as you slid him all the way inside. And once he was there,deep and still, you exhaled like you had just remembered how to.

“That better?” he whispered, pressing his lips to your temple.

You nodded against his neck. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders. He held you tighter.

Neither of you moved.

You weren’t doing this to get off.

You were doing this to feel full.

To feel held.

To let someone else carry the weight for a while.

He ran his fingers up and down your spine, whispering praise that wasn’t even meant to arouse—it was just the truth.

“So warm like this…”

“Ain’t never felt anythin’ like you…”

“You’re safe, baby. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Just let me hold you. That’s all y’gotta do tonight.”

Your legs softened around his hips. His hands spread wide across your back like he was trying to protect every inch of you. You blinked slow. His heartbeat thudded under your ear like a lullaby.

“M’gonna fall asleep like this,” you mumbled, already drifting.

He chuckled so softly, rubbing slow circles into your hips.

“That’s alright. I’ll be right here. Jus’ sleep, sweetheart.”

And so you did.

Wrapped in him.

Filled by him.

Safe.

You didn’t feel empty anymore.

tag list! @xx-lostgirl-xx @darylsdelts @ye-ooo @t-folklore13 @madyb17 @dead-sirens @theskinniestjackson-denny @littlelovingideas @angelically-yours

[twd-bee3]

i’ve been thinking about this so much lately that i actually wrote a piece about it. i’ll post it eventually!!

posted it

Daryl told Beth he had never cut his wrists looking for attention as if that was the first thing he needed to make clear. Like it stuck with him. Like he could never quite get it out of his mind. Because he couldn’t understand how a girl like her with all her light, with all her supposed privilege could carry the same kind of darkness he did.

I wonder how many times he thought about it while sharpening his knives.

Beth was a mirror of everything in him that scared the hell out of him kindness, vulnerability, grief that you can’t just bury beneath silence or rage.

When Carol told him he had to let himself feel the loss, and he started self-harming after Beth died it said everything. He’s never known how to cope with pain that isn’t physical. That’s all he's ever understood: wounds you can see, ones you can patch up or bleed out from.

I wonder what he did when Merle died.

[twd-bee3]

Peach Cobbler

Summary: Carol had asked the Dixons to bring something to the next group dinner which means that you are baking while Daryl dicks around in the kitchen.

Warnings/Tags: domestic!daryl, married pair, pure fluff, wife!reader (she/her), season seven, no use of y/n

Word count: 520

A/N: After writing a bunch of angst, which will be posted later, I needed a lighter story to write. This was inspired by a prompt from @fromdove, and I had a great time writing it. It felt good to let Daryl have a moment of peace. This is basically just him being childish and terrorizing his wife.

Inside the kitchen, you are measuring different ingredients and peeling the skin off a batch of peaches. Daryl had joined you and was admiring you as you worked. He always thought that you were cute when you focused. Things had finally calmed down in Alexandria, so it was nice to enjoy this small bit of normalcy. For whatever reason, Daryl decided to perch himself up on the counter, and he was absentmindedly swinging his feet. This earned an eye roll from you.

“Why is your dirty ass on my clean counter?”

“Ain't that dirty. I washed up yesterday.”

“Oh, that makes it so much better.”

You were being sarcastic, but you couldn't stop yourself from smiling a little at his antics. As you chopped the peaches, Daryl was taking pieces when you looked away and sneaking bites. He thought that he was being stealthy, but you quickly noticed and lightly swatted his hand away.

“Would you stop that? Ain't gonna be able to make a cobbler if you keep eatin' all the fruit.”

“Can't help it, sweetheart. They're real good.”

You were trying to be stern, but the look on his face and his simple answer made you laugh. He was right, though. These peaches came from Hilltop and they were damn good. You looked over at him and saw that he had gotten peach juice in his beard. You grabbed a nearby kitchen towel and wiped his face while playfully scolding him.

“You're fuckin' ridiculous, y'know that? Like havin' a toddler.”

Squirming, he pretended to be offended and gasped softly. “That ain't fair. I ain't nothin' like a toddler.”

“Whatever. Just stop takin' shit. Especially since you ain't even helpin' me.”

At the idea of having to bake something, Daryl groaned and dramatically slumped against the cabinet that his back had been resting on. You just rolled your eyes again and tried to stifle another laugh. Entertaining this little stunt would only encourage him further.

“See what I mean? You're like an overgrown baby.”

“Am not. Just ain't understandin' why I, the man of the house, should have to bake.”

You knew that he didn't actually believe that, and he was just teasing you, but it always riled you up. That's exactly what your man wanted. Shooting Daryl a playful glare, you softly smacked one of his legs and pointed a finger at him.

“Don't you start with that patriarchal bullshit. I ought to make you get down and bake this cobbler yourself.”

“I was just fuckin' with you, sweetheart. You ain't gotta do all that.”

Despite his protests, you grabbed Daryl's hand and pulled him off the counter. He sighed loudly, but allowed you to drag him over to where you'd been standing. You positioned him in front of the cutting board and handed him the knife.

“Get choppin', dickhead.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Daryl begrudgingly helped his wife prepare and bake the cobbler. He bitched and mumbled the whole time, but he did enjoy spending time with you. Part of him even liked baking, but his stubborn ass was would never admit that.