#daryl dixon x you

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 28

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Pregnancy stuff - bodily fluids, etc.

A/N: Still worried about Daryl's character in this, but I guess I will probably continue to do that since this is a situation we haven't seen him in during these seasons. Anyway, game on.

Two days. Three centimeters. Nothing really new other than a few small, quick contractions that were nothing more than a tightening of your belly. Daryl stayed close, mainly venturing outside only to smoke or relieve himself, and, of course, he accompanied you when you needed to go. At that very moment, you were lying propped up on a mountain of pillows that everyone had given you. Daryl was sitting cross-legged by your feet, sharpening his knife.

“Do you think something’s wrong?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. The archer looked up and studied you, looking back down at the whetstone before shaking his head. The sound of the blade sliding against it made your skin crawl. “Can you—stop that please?” He sighed but sheathed the knife and tossed the whetstone onto the top of the things in his bag. He hadn’t been speaking much which concerned you. You watched him scrub a hand over his face before keeping it there and propping his elbow on his thigh. “Daryl, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” His voice was gravelly, tired even, but not unkind. You knew he had slept, or had at least been lying down with you while you did. “Ya hurtin’ or anythin’?” He still had his face covered.

“Mm-mm. Thumper’s awake though. It’s Cirque du Soleil in there.” His hand finally moved to smooth back over his hair, leaving the shorter pieces askew. “Hey.” His eyes met yours again, worry evident and overflowing. “Come over here?” His left hand clenched into a fist but then flexed open again. Daryl got to his feet, taking a single step toward you before bending down to press a kiss into your hair. 

“Gonna have a smoke. Right outside if ya need anythin’.”

You watched him go and sighed, turning your attention to your stomach. “I think you’re scaring your daddy, Thumps. Me too, a little bit, if I’m being honest.” The baby hadn’t been as active over the last 24 hours, but Hershel had reassured that it was normal for movement to decrease in the last part of pregnancy. “I don’t know how good of a mom I’m gonna be. I didn’t exactly have a shining example. And your daddy—he’s gonna really need our patience, kiddo. Shit, we’re both gonna need patience.” There was the smallest ripple beneath your palm. “We’re flying blind here.”

Sounds of a scuffle on the porch had you sitting up straight in a flash, eyes wide and darting. 

“Daryl?”

He staggered in the door—walker blood on his arm and his knife—before gaining his footing and bending to grab your boots. “Gotta go!” He was calling for the others while helping you get ready and grabbing up what blankets he could to stuff into the second bag. You could hear the moans and scratches and thumps just outside the wall. “C’mon, just leave the rest. We gotta move.”

You nodded, leaving the remaining blankets, pillows, and your sweatpants. It would be freezing in just your leggings but as long as you were alive, then you couldn’t really complain. 

Daryl threw one of the bags on his back—along with his crossbow—while you shouldered the other bag. Knife in one hand, he took yours in the other and was pulling, the first of the herd of corpses tumbling into the house, slimy fingers grasping so closely that you felt the tug on your hood before they seemed to have lost their grip. 

Everyone was sprinting out the back, Rick waiting until you and Daryl had passed to follow and pull the door closed behind him. The truck was blessedly close. Daryl was pulling the bag from your shoulder and opening the door simultaneously, letting you climb inside while he tossed both packs into the back and rounded to the drivers side. You had the key ready and in the ignition, your heart rate slowing the moment his foot hit the gas. 

“Y’okay?” 

Catching your breath—winded by fear and exertion and well, the extra weight of the human growing inside your belly—you looked over just in time to see him take his right hand off the wheel, flex his fingers as they moved just the slightest distance toward you, and then place it right back where it started. 

“Yeah.” You answered breathlessly, swallowing and nodding. “Yeah, we’re okay.” He relaxed a little. His next question would have been about Thumper, so why not ease his mind quickly? “Are you okay? The one outside, before you—”

“M’alright. Ain’t bit or nothin’.” He mumbled, dragging his left thumb over his bottom lip before he began chewing on the skin there, thickened from all the scarred wounds he had given himself, small as they were. He was anxious. He had every right to be. You could go into labor at any moment and another temporary home had been overrun. It had been months of this shit. Run, run, run, and—for a change of pace—run again. 

Hand steadying your belly, you twisted in the seat to look behind the truck for the headlights of the van. When you didn’t see them, you swiveled back to check the side mirror, finding it easier to watch in that position. There was nothing but the soft red glow of the truck’s tail lights. “I don’t see them.”

“They’ll show an’ we’ll pull off. Come up with somethin’.” His eyes slid over to you and back. “Can’t keep ya out on the road.”

You couldn’t disagree. You could feel your ankles swelling inside your boots. Your pelvis and hips ached, your lower back felt strained. Your stomach was tightening in a small contraction. You were just highly uncomfortable and more than a little tired. Your head fell back against the headrest, eyes closed. You must have dozed because when you opened your eyes, the truck was still and Daryl was gone. 

“Daryl?” You quavered, grabbing the dashboard as you slid to the edge of the seat to be able to survey the surroundings. It was too dark. You could barely see inside the cab itself. “Daryl!” Just as you grabbed for the door handle, the driver’s side door opened at full tilt and the archer peered inside.

“M’right here. Y’okay?”

You exhaled sharply, not even realizing you’d been holding your breath. “What’s going on? Why’re you out there? Are the others here?” 

Daryl looked over his shoulder, tapping his fingers against the top of the door before turning back toward you, looking at the seat instead of meeting your eyes. “Nah, they ain’t here. Ain’t seen no sign’a ‘em.” You could see the same worry you were feeling reflected in his posture. 

“What will we do if they—” You couldn’t say it. You just couldn’t. Why did the world just insist on taking everything? 

“Do whatever we gotta do.” Daryl sniffed, looking over his shoulder again. He was thinking the same thing you were. Neither of you knew the first thing about childbirth. You turned to get out of the truck, an ache in your lower back while your stomach tightened in a contraction making you wince, your fingers wrapped around the door handle. “Stay in the truck.” Your hand fell away but the pain remained. It wasn’t unbearable and after a moment, your muscles loosened. The pain in your back remained but lessened.  “Y’alright?”

“Mhm.” You answered quickly. Laying back against the seat, you blew upward to move an unruly hair from your face. You were so tired but you couldn’t sleep, not while your partner was standing outside the truck alone and keeping watch. It wouldn’t even do much good to try when there was no comfortable position you could find with your back twinging. Still, you found your eyelids drooping. When the truck rocked the slightest bit, you didn’t startle. A warm hand wrapped around your shoulders and pulled, and you let yourself be guided to lie on Daryl’s thigh.

“Get some sleep.”

With a hum, you turned to face his stomach so your own could rest upon the seat. His hand settled on your ribs. 

“I love you.” You mumbled, already halfway gone into slumber. The last thing you felt was his fingertips graze along your jaw.

It was daylight when you next opened your eyes, the taut skin of your stomach pulling uncomfortably tight while your back spasmed. The contractions themselves were merely annoying while the pain in your back was constant, made worse when your muscles tensed. Grimacing, you glowered at your belly. “Good morning to you, too.” You were no longer pillowed on Daryl’s thigh, actually alone in the cab. You made it up to an elbow when you heard voices. Familiar voice.

“You sure you’re alright? Y/N alright?"

“She’s sleepin’.”

You had to grab the steering wheel to haul yourself upright, opting for the passenger door. Carol was the first to see you and sprinted in your direction. You stood still and let her come to you, your ankles just too swollen and sore to move more than necessary. Once reaching you, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders with a little less enthusiasm so as not to jar you. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay. When we didn’t see the truck—”

“I know. I was freaking out when I couldn’t see the van.” 

She brushed your hair away from your face once she let you go. “We had to go around the herd and then figure out which direction you two went.” You smiled, but it was a weak attempt. Your back was still aching. “Are you okay?” Behind her, Daryl was watching you. You wondered if he was hearing anything Rick was saying.

You waved her off. “Yeah, I’m fine. So, what’s the plan?”

“Heading South, I guess? I’m not sure. I mean, the main thing is to find somewhere safe enough for you to have that baby. Lori won’t be far behind. A few weeks, at most.” Her eyes dropped to where your hand rested on your stomach and then back again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Go see what’s going on. I don’t really feel like walking over there. I”m just gonna wait in the truck.” After a moment, Carol acquiesced, calling over her shoulder for you to yell if you needed anything. You waved your hand over your head and let it fall to your back, pressing in on where the ache continued. Maybe it was time to tell Daryl something else was happening. Opening the door, you lifted your foot from the ground when you felt something gush from your opening, wetting your underwear and leggings. “Oh, great. And now I pissed myself. Way to go, Y/N!” 

You left the door open and stepped back so you could reach into the truck bed for your bag. You’d have to change but you really really did not want to tell Daryl that had just happened. He was your partner and you were pregnant, so he’d understand but you were sure to get a ya did what now and that would just make you feel more embarrassed. Maybe you could call Carol over and she could help you out of the soiled clothes and hide them until they could be washed. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you grabbed the soft handle of your bag when it happened again. Less of a gush, but a noticeable flow. That’s when reality roundhouse kicked you in the teeth.

Oh shit.

“Hey, Daryl.” You kept your tone even, unalarmed even if you were being absolutely ravaged by panic inside. You left the bag and lowered back down to be flat on your feet. Daryl’s boots were loud on the pavement but at a slow stride. Good. You hadn’t terrified him. 

Yet.

“Yeah?” He noticed where you were standing and glanced into the truck bed. “Need your bag?”

“Well, yes and no.” Your abdomen tightened again, still painless, but aggravating the cramping in your back to a new level. With a hiss through your teeth, you knew you had his full attention without even looking at him.

“S’wrong?” 

You were staring at your feet, expression pinched with pain and concentration while you persevered through the episode. Why the fuck did your back hurt? All too soon, Daryl’s boots were right in front of yours. “I—I think my water broke.” When you could finally think past the throb that was slowly ebbing away into the continuous ache, you raised your head to find him staring at the ground. And then your pants. “What?”

“Ain’t there supposed to be—I dunno—a lot?”

“How the hell should I know? You think I give birth on a regular basis?” You snapped, immediately murmuring an apology. 

“Ya sure ya didn’t just—”

“No, I didn’t piss myself.” More fluid trickled from within you, a miniscule amount but enough to be noticed. “At least I think I didn’t? I mean, I was expecting more of a whoosh. Like Noah’s Ark level of liquid, you know?” And then you were silent. And so was he. You stared at one another, each waiting for the other to say something.

Daryl cleared his throat. “M’gonna—gonna get Hershel.” He turned but barely managed a step before he stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Or I can stay here? Do ya need me here?”

“Just get Hershel. I’ll be fine for now. Can you get Carol too, please?” You watched him nod, noticed the tick in his clenched jaw, the way he was tapping each fingertip of his right hand against his thumb rhythmically. He was freaking out. And as you felt more liquid soaking into the fabric of your underwear and leggings, so were you. You were wet all the way down past your knees. 

“Daryl said you needed me.” Carol’s voice brought your head up, your expression triggering the worry that took over her own. “What’s wrong?”

“I think—I either really had to pee or my water broke.” You shifted from foot to foot, carefully keeping your thighs apart. You had never felt so humiliated in your entire life. If your father could see you now—well, honestly he’d probably be laughing and saying take it easy, peanut, it’s just some wet pants. 

“It’s okay.” Carol soothed, encircling her arms around your shoulders. “Anything else going on? Contractions?” You nodded. “How often?”

“I don’t know. Like maybe every half hour but my back is killing me. It just—it hasn’t stopped hurting since it started last night.” She was listening so intently that it made you nervous. “The contractions don’t hurt, but man, they make the back pain fucking horrible.”

Carol smoothed your hair and took your face in her hands, giving you that sweet Carol smile. “Sweetheart, I think that your water did break and that you’re in labor.” You felt your eyes widen and your breaths coming quicker. “It’s okay, just breathe. Daryl’s on his way over with Hershel.”

Daryl came straight to you, the nervousness surrounding him so strongly that it made your chest tighten further. He didn’t say anything as he usually did when you floundered over your responses. When Hershel asked permission to examine you then and there, you began to fidget. 

“I guess there’s not much of a choice, is there?” You lamented, looking to your partner. His head was down and he was trembling. You’d have to talk to him later when there was no one else around. 

“I’m afraid not.” Hershel could see you were anxious. His soft spoken words were proof enough of that. 

Daryl climbed into the cab first and helped you in, letting you rest your head on his thigh while Carol pulled off your sodden leggings and underwear. The examination was quick, much to your relief. 

“As far as I can tell, it was indeed your water breaking. We have no litmus paper for confirmation, but the source of the fluid appears to be from the vaginal opening and not the urethra.” You knew this would happen eventually but that made it no less terrifying. “You can likely expect the contractions to become more intense, closer together as you dilate. They may or may not be painful as we talked about. Daryl, you’ll need to time them.”

“Okay.” Was all he said, quiet and contemplative. Hands at your shoulder blades, he helped you to sit up.

“Rick,” the vet called out, “we need to find somewhere safe and fast.” The deputy jogged over, looking quizzically between all the faces. Carol quickly occupied the old man’s place with fresh clothing from your bag, covering your lower half from view. “Y/N will be giving birth soon and needs a quiet, safe enough place to deliver.”

“These are likely to get wet too, but you can’t ride around in soaked clothing. Beth and Maggie had some pads, so I thought maybe they could help, too.” You nodded robotically. This should be the happiest experience of your life and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of foreboding. What if you screamed during the birth and brought down a herd? What if the baby cried too loud? What if something went wrong? What if? What if? What if?

Carol helped you get dressed and situated in the truck while Daryl looked over a map with the others. You watched him from the side mirror, smiling when you saw that he could barely focus, continuously glancing toward the truck. You could feel the beginnings of another contraction, the twitching inside before your stomach would tighten and you’d need to breathe through the pain in your back. It still wasn’t unbearable but it was enough to coax a whimper from your lips. Right in the middle of the episode, there was a gentle tap on the window. Lori was looking through the glass sympathetically, waiting patiently until you could use the window crank.

“How’re you holding up?” She asked, reaching in to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You saw no reason to lie. “I’m terrified.” Wringing your hands over your belly, you sniffled in an attempt to hold back the tears. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. “I don’t know what to expect. The pain, you know. What if I cause someone to get hurt because I can’t take it? What if something’s wrong with Thumper? What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Her hand landed gently on your shoulder and you lost the battle with the tears that were demanding to fall. “Everything you’re feeling is normal. Well, as normal as it can be in a world full of the walking dead. It’s all going to be fine. All things considered, you’ve handled this pregnancy like a warrior. I have no doubt that you’ll get through bringing that baby into the world just fine.”

You wiped at your face almost angrily. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiled, looking as if she were going to say something else but her eyes moved to somewhere behind you. She squeezed your shoulder. “It’ll all be okay. We’re going to be leaving soon. We’ll find a safe place.” Another glance behind you and, holding her smile, she walked away. 

You were rolling up the window when the driver’s door opened and Daryl climbed in, shutting the door behind him. “Ya doin’ okay?” His voice was just as shaky as he was.

“I’m okay.” You kept your expression soft and reached for his hand. He let you take it. “Are you okay?” 

“Mhm.” He squeezed your fingers and pulled his hand back to start the engine and take hold of the shifter but he didn’t move it.

“Daryl?”

“M’scared shitless.” You blinked for a moment before quickly dismissing the shock from your expression. “Dunno what m’doin’. Dunno how—what m’s’posed to do to help you.” He was staring straight ahead, carefully avoiding your gaze. It was obvious that wasn’t easy for him to admit. 

“Hey.” He ducked his head but he didn’t look at you. “We’re both lost here, but we’ve made it this far.” With a noise of effort and discomfort, you scooted across the seat. The movement had him looking your way with a quick turn of his head.

“What—quit it ‘fore ya—”

“Shut up.” You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. It was difficult to hold the position you found yourself in, your back singing with pain, but you both needed the comfort, the closeness. When you separated, you kept the hold on his neck and pressed your forehead to his. “We’re in this together. ‘We’ll handle it’, remember?” Clearing his throat, he waited a moment before he nodded, his forehead bumping yours. 

The van pulled up alongside the truck. With a last kiss to his forehead, you slid back across the seat and slouched to take some of the pressure off your back. Daryl nodded to Rick and then pulled off the roadside and followed behind the others.

“That one actually hurt.” You breathed, rubbing a hand over your belly as the pain faded. You’d been on the road for about three hours, stopping at two homes, both with too many dead wandering too close by. Daryl glanced up at you and then back to the watch he had balanced on top of the steering wheel.

“Last one was ‘bout 21 minutes ago, this’un was ‘bout 52 seconds.” He sat the watch on the seat by his leg and switched hands on the wheel, resting his left elbow on the window panel so he could rub his thumb back and forth across his lip while he obviously chewed the inside of his cheek.

“So they’re lasting about the same amount of time but they’re definitely getting closer together.” Shifting in the seat a little, you hissed at the twinge of pain in your back. “God, my back is the worst part right now, but if it doesn’t get any worse than this, I’ll be golden.” You were very doubtful you’d be that lucky but one could dream, right?

“M’sorry.” Daryl mumbled from behind his thumb.

Your brow furrowed, your head shaking back and forth in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

“M’the reason you’re goin’ through this.” He cleared his throat sharply, biting into the side of his thumb with more vigor than you’d ever seen before.

“Last time I checked, I was a willing participant in the creation of this tiny human.” You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. There was a dense fog of tension building inside the cab, one you intended to disperse as quickly as possible before it could soak into either one of you. “This is our baby, Daryl. We decided to do this together.” You started to reach for him but thought better of it for the moment. “We’re going to do this together.”

He looked over at you, glancing back at the road every few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You shook your head and smiled fondly. “If the baby is as quiet as you are when they’re upset, then we won’t need to worry about them attracting walkers.” You had meant it as a joke but the archer immediately blanched. “No, Daryl, I just—shit, that was the worst. I’m sorry.”

“Babies cry. How—what—”

“We’ll deal with it when we have to deal with it. Right now, let’s just focus on actually having a baby, okay?” That was enough to at least have him lapse into silence with a nod. You watched the sky darken, knowing two things: there would be no shelter before dark and the vehicles would soon need fuel. Daryl must have been thinking the same, his eyes darting down toward the dashboard. His thumb was hovering in front of his mouth, a smear of blood on each.

“Gonna have to camp tonight.” He swallowed so hard that you saw his throat working. “They’re gonna hafta go lookin’ for fuel.”

“You’re not—”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” The conviction in his tone filled your chest with warmth, even if he didn’t look at you. You couldn’t express your appreciation before another contraction began to build.

“Fuck.” You breathed, holding the side of your belly with one hand while the other reached for the dash. Daryl didn’t need clarification, just reached to pick up the watch. Your back screamed while your stomach tightened and cramped, pulling a whimper from within you that you couldn’t seem to stifle. Breathe, idiot, you told yourself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It wasn’t the worst pain you’d ever felt, but it still fucking hurt. Seconds felt like hours but soon enough, you could feel the pain ebbing away, your body relaxing. “Christ.” You fell back against the seat, completely wrung out. 

Daryl was still holding the watch, glancing between it, you, and the road. “Minute an' four seconds, last'un was 19 minutes ago.” Before you could comment, the truck sputtered and jerked. The archer was barely able to get it onto the side of the road before it died. He flashed the lights to signal the van, the brake lights illuminating the road ahead as Rick turned around. Daryl’s hands dropped to his lap, his head bowed to stare at them. “Gettin’ closer together.” He almost whispered.

“Yeah.” It was all you could think of to say. “I am not having this baby on the side of the road.” Even as the words left your mouth, you didn’t believe a single syllable.

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[dixons-sunshine]

I Never Lived For The Applause | Daryl Dixon x Former!Celebrity!Fem!Reader

Summary: Before the world quite literally ended, you were a famously known singer. However, your celebrity status didn't do you much good in the apocalypse, despite most people in your group giving you privileges that you didn't want. Thankfully, a certain redneck archer treated you like a normal person, unwillingly becoming the guy who caught your attention.

Genre: Angst, fluff.

Era: The quarry; the farm; the prison.

Warnings: Swearing, usual TWD warnings, suggestive themes.

Word count: 3.9k.

A/n: Okay but the former!celebrity!reader x Daryl was such a unique idea that an anon requested! I never would've thought about that on my own. I thought that this idea would be great combined with a few other requests, and this was born. There's a few time jumps and this is honestly not the best. I scrapped over 1500 words and this is all over the place, and it was supposed to be smut, and I don't really like this, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Before the apocalypse came to be, you were a famous singer and songwriter. You had multiple hit singles that made the charts and your concerts always sold out. It seemed like wherever you would turn, there would be someone there who would want an autograph or a picture. It seemed like you could never escape the spotlight.

Not even now, when the dead started rising and the world came to an end.

“Amy, I told you, I'm fine. I don't want your food. You need it more than I do.”

Amy shook her head defiantly, practically shoving the paper plate into your hands. “I insist. You're my idol, and I'll be damned if I let my idol go hungry when I have food I can give her.”

You sighed and reluctantly accepted the plate. “This is unnecessary. I already had my share, sweetheart. You don't have to give me yours when you also have to eat.”

“I'm fine. Rather me than you.”

Before you could protest, Andrea called Amy's name. Amy gave you an apologetic smile and bid you farewell, walking over to her sister and leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sighed and turned around, heading over to the tent you shared with your daughter. You opened the flap and stepped inside, seeing your twelve year old daughter, Nicolette, busy sketching in her sketchbook.

She looked up when she heard you step inside, sending you a smile. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, Nic,” you greeted her, sitting down on your cot opposite hers. “Why aren't you outside with the other kids?”

Nicolette shook her head, closing her sketchbook and sitting up in her cot. “Most of them treat me funny. They keep asking me if I can sing or if I can write songs, and if I got free stuff because you were famous. Only Carl and Sophia treat me like I'm a normal kid, but they're with their mom's right now.”

You sighed, guilt gnawing at you from the inside. Never once did you regret having your daughter, but sometimes you regretted having to raise her while you were in the spotlight. The paparazzi were relentless, and your daughter more often than not had to pay the price for that. It was unfair, and you wished that you could've just faded from the spotlight to raise your daughter in peace.

“I'm sorry, baby. If I knew back then what my fame could do to you, I never would have signed on with that record label. I wish I could take it back.”

Nicolette shook her head. She got up from her cot and sat down next to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her, placing a tender kiss on her head.

“It's not your fault, Mom. I don't blame you. You shouldn't, either.”

You shook your head. “That's easier said than done,” you replied, before adopting a more lighthearted tone. “But let's not talk about that. I've got some more food for you if you're hungry.”

Nicolette smiled at you and nodded eagerly. “I'm starving. Thanks, Mom.”

You smiled at her. However, before you could respond, a ruckus could be heard outside your tent. Both yours and your daughter's heads snapped in the direction of the two voices, instantly going quiet to hear what was happening.

“M'tellin ya, man. S'a fuckin' waste of time. We should jus' cut our losses here and scram. Take a few guns and food fer the road.”

“Merle, fer the last fuckin' time, we can't leave righ' now. It's too dangerous. We should wait 'til the heat dies down 'fore we go.”

“Wha' m'hearin' s'tha' yer a pussy. Wha's the matter, Darylina? Scared the geeks will get ya? 'Cause yer too incompetent to handle 'em?”

“Fuck off, Merle! It ain't like tha'. I jus' dun' wanna risk our lives if we dun' need to.”

“Whatever, man. M'goin' back to the tent.”

The man who's name you had learnt to be Merle left, his retreating footsteps growing fainter until you couldn't hear them anymore. However, you could clearly see the silhouette of the other man still outside your tent. You could hear him quietly muttering to himself.

Turning to Nicolette, you gently placed the plate with the food—cooked squirrel with some beans—onto her lap and stood up. You turned to her and leaned down to place a sweet kiss to her forehead.

“Eat up and get ready for bed. I'll be right back and then we'll continue reading that book.”

Nicolette nodded, and with that, you exited your tent. The man stood with his back to you, but a simple slight twitch of his head in your direction showed that he had heard you. His body stiffened visibly, and you frowned at that.

“Hey. You're Daryl, right?” you asked him, prompting the man to turn around.

However, he didn't meet your gaze, finding great interest in the ground below. He simply grunted his acknowledgement, a slight upwards nudge of his nose confirming your question.

“I'm Y/n. It's nice to officially meet you,” you introduced yourself, extending your hand to his for a handshake. Daryl made no move to shake it, however, making you awkwardly retract your hand. “I, uh, just wanted to say that you were right.”

“Wha'?” Daryl asked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. He hadn't meant for the question to slip from his lips, trying to just remain quiet until you got the message that he was in no mood to socialise, but he failed.

“That argument you had with your brother. You were right. It's way too dangerous to wander off on your own right now. Personally I feel like you shouldn't be wanting to go at all because it's safer with a group, but that's not my call to make. Just thought I'd let you know that your instincts are right. Don't listen to your brother.”

Daryl was confused by your niceness. He was even more confused by the fact that you agreed with him. He was so used to women taking Merle's side instead of his all the time, so this was something entirely new for him.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he replied awkwardly, nervously chewing on his lower lip.

You smiled at him before nodding. “Okay, well, just wanted to tell you that. Oh, and to ask you not to argue in front of my tent again. I have a twelve year old in there who doesn't need to hear all of that.”

Daryl ducked his head, an embarrassed blush flushing over his face. “Sorry.”

“I guess I can let it slide this time,” you said with a smile. “And thanks for the squirrel. Thanks to you, my daughter doesn't have to go to bed hungry tonight. Never thought we'd have to resort to eating squirrel, but it's not that bad. It's actually kinda delicious. It's way better than—” Realising that you were busy rambling, you shook your head and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Just, thank you.”

Daryl didn't know why, but he felt an unexplainable pull to you. Maybe it was the way you showed him kindness without even knowing him, or maybe it was the fact that you were the only one who seemed to actually appreciate the food he brought back from his hunts, even if it was squirrels. Despite their hunger, everyone else mostly refused to eat anything he brought back if it wasn't deer. Yet there you were, thanking him for bringing back something as mediocre as squirrel.

And it certainly didn't help that he found you absolutely radiant.

“S'nothin',” he finally responded. “M'jus' glad yer lil' girl can eat tonigh'.”

“You're the one who brought back the squirrels?”

At the sound of a small voice, both you and Daryl turned around to face your daughter. Nicolette walked up to your side and beamed brightly up at Daryl, catching him off guard. The other kids in the camp were terrified of him and wouldn't even glance in his direction, yet this kid was not only looking at him, but willingly talking to him.

“Yes, he is,” you confirmed, smiling fondly down at your daughter.

Nicolette looked up at Daryl, realisation dawning on her. ��You're the man with the crossbow! And the vest with the angel wings! You're so cool, sir. Do you think I could maybe shoot your crossbow one time? It's okay if you say no, but can I maybe see how you shoot it so that when I get my own crossbow one day, I know how to use it? Or—”

Daryl's lips subconsciously twitched up into a smile. Her rambling was so similar to yours. Like mother, like daughter, he thought to himself as he looked between the two of you. There were over a dozen similarities between you and Nicolette. She looked just like you.

You placed a hand on Nicolette's shoulder, halting her rambling. You turned to Daryl, giving him a smile. “We should probably get ready for bed. Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night, Daryl!” Nicolette greeted him enthusiastically, following you into the tent.

“Night,” he whispered.

“Oh, and by the way, don't be a stranger. I'd love to see more of you.”

Daryl blushed and ducked his head. He hummed, not trusting his voice at that moment in time.

You smiled and finally entered the tent, zipping the tent closed behind you. He stood there for a couple of moments before turning and walking back to his own shared tent with Merle.

Daryl couldn't explain it, but for some reason, in that short conversation, he felt drawn to you. It was unnerving, but felt nice at the same time. And your daughter was downright an angel, your exact copy.

“Wha' were ya doin', sniffin' 'round tha' popstar?” Merle asked when Daryl entered the tent, catching him off guard. Daryl had assumed that Merle would've been passed out by now, high off of whatever drug he was using that night.

“Popstar? Wha' the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?” Daryl questioned, plopping himself down on his cot.

“Tha' woman ya were talkin' to, she was a singer 'fore all this. Real famous, too. Used to see her on TV and in magazine's all the time.”

Daryl's mind swarmed with questions. You were a famous singer? How the hell did you end up there, with a bunch of nobodies? And why had you thanked him for bringing back something as simple as a squirrel? If you were famous, you had probably eaten banquets of the richest, most delicious food out there, yet you enjoyed squirrel? And to top it off, why would you willingly want to hang out with him of all people?

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Daryl, oh my god.”

At the sound of your panicked voice, Daryl slowly sat upright in the bed in the guest bedroom. He looked up and locked eyes with you, seeing the worry written all over your face. You hurriedly sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and gingerly reached out to touch the bandage around his side, careful not to add too much pressure and hurt him.

“M'fine, sunshine. Dun' have to worry 'bout me,” he replied, waving off your concern and gently grabbing your hand to push it away from the bandage.

You scoffed in disbelief and shook your head. “You're my friend, Daryl. Of course I'm going to worry about you. I care about you, and you expect me to not worry?” you asked, bringing your hand up to gently caress his cheek.

Friend. That word reminded Daryl of how you viewed him. It had been two months since your first interaction at the quarry and his affection and attraction to you had only grown stronger. However, it seemed to him like his feelings weren't reciprocated, so he settled on being your friend.

Little did he know that you felt the exact same way. You just didn't know it yet.

“Heard ya punched Andrea fer shootin' me. Any truth to those rumours?” Daryl asked, diverting the attention away from his now pounding heart as your fingers gently pushed his hair back.

You smiled sheepishly. “My hand slipped?” you tried, shrugging your shoulders.

Daryl smirked slightly and shook his head. “Sure. Whatever ya say, sunshine.”

You let out a sigh, reluctantly drawing your hand back from his hair. “She had it coming. We told her not to shoot and she didn't listen, trying to boost her own ego instead. She almost killed you, Daryl. That's not something she should be allowed to get away with, but Rick and Shane aren't gonna do anything, so I took matters into my own hands.”

Daryl smiled softly. “Not bad fer a popstar.”

You giggled. “Hey, I got into a couple of fights before my career took off. I know my stuff. I know how to shoot a gun, too, but that's a discussion for another day.”

Daryl chuckled and nodded. He shifted back against the headboard and gazed at you, simply admiring your beauty for a moment. It amazed him that a beautiful, kind, caring, smart woman like you would ever wanna be associated with the likes of him. You were perfect and he was, well, him. It didn't make sense, but he dared not to question it.

“Can I ask ya somethin' personal?” he blurted out before he could think about it.

You nodded at him. “Sure.”

“When ya talk 'bout yer career, it sounds like ya hated it. Why'd ya become a singer if ya hated it so much?”

You remained silent for a minute. Daryl feared that he had asked the wrong thing and was about to apologise, but you spoke up.

“I was nineteen when I signed with my first record label. I didn't want to be in the spotlight because singing was more of a hobby to me, but my parents forced me to. Growing up, there wasn't ever really any money around and my parents made it out like it was my fault. They made me feel like I owed them for everything they did for me, and they forced me to sign with that record label. My parents were my managers and all the money I earned for the songs I wrote and sang basically went to them. That went on for a couple of years until I met Nic's father. He was a bass player in a band I was collaborating with. I fell in love way too quickly, jumped into bed with him when he made an advancement and ended up pregnant. The guy didn't want kids and bolted, leaving me a single mom. My parents hated that and basically disowned me.”

“M'sorry to hear tha',” Daryl replied sympathetically. He didn't really know how to respond; he never knew that about you. You chose to keep your life before you had Nicolette private, and he respected that. He had his own demons he preferred to keep quiet.

“It's okay,” you reassured him, shaking your head. “He was an asshole. And I was better off without my parents. I managed to sign with a decent enough record label and the rest was history. I got a ton of backlash from haters for being a single mom. There were even rumours that I had cheated and that's why the guy left me, but that wasn't true. But none of that matters anymore. My reputation doesn't matter anymore. All that matters now is keeping my daughter safe and keeping the people I care about alive. People like you.”

“Ya shouldn't care 'bout me. S'a bad idea.”

“Well, bad idea or not, I care about you. And so does Nic.”

As if being summoned, Nicolette knocked on the door and hesitantly stepped inside. Daryl adjusted the covers over his body and sent her a tight-lipped smile. Nicolette gave him a small smile back but he could clearly tell it was strained. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying.

“Are you okay?” Nicolette asked, crossing her arms over her chest as if to make herself appear smaller.

“M'fine, kiddo. Dun' worry 'bout me,” he reassured her. “Hershel fixed me righ' up. I'll be outta here in no time.”

Nicolette looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded. “He's right. He'll be fine. Some antibiotics and he'll be up and at it in three days. You'll see.”

“Okay,” she nodded, her eyes flickering between you and Daryl. “I'm glad you're not dead, Daryl.”

Daryl chuckled at the girls forwardness. “M'glad m'not dead, too.”

You smiled at the small interaction between Daryl and Nicolette, your heart swelling with fondness. You stood up from the bed and motioned for Nicolette to follow you.

“C'mon, baby. Let's leave Daryl to get some rest, okay?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could maybe stay?” she asked timidly, nervously fiddling with her hands. “It's just... I wanna stay.”

You looked at Daryl, and he shrugged nonchalantly. Despite his nonchalance, Daryl's heart swelled with fondness. This little girl, who owed him nothing, wanted to stay with him. He couldn't believe it.

“Okay, you can stay for a while. I'll be back later, okay?” you relented.

She nodded and sat down on the chair. You gave Daryl's hand one last squeeze before heading out, sparing one last look at the two. Nicolette was starting to retell some of the events of what her and Carl had gotten up to that day, and Daryl hummed in acknowledgement before looking up and locking eyes with you.

With one last parting smile, you headed out and made your way back to the tents. On your way there, a startling realisation hit you like a ton of bricks, one that would change the way you saw Daryl forever. Despite the fact that he could be snappy at times, and that he was known for being grumpy, he treated you with respect. He didn't care about who you were before the end of the world. He didn't care about your mistakes, about if you were famous or not. That didn't matter to him. He only saw you, the person behind the old tabloids, and he had become close with your daughter. He even took the time out of his day to teach her how to use his crossbow, even if she was a slow learner. And in that moment, you realised something:

You had feelings for him.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Y'know, m'glad Nic didn't have to meet her father. She's better off.”

You turned your head to Daryl, a look of confusion spreading across your features. “I agree with you, but why do you say that? You didn't know the man.”

Daryl shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from you. “Ya said back at Hershel's tha' he never wanted kids. If he had stuck 'round, god knows wha' he would've done to her.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, turning your attention back to the darkness ahead of you. “She is better off.”

The night was relatively quiet, save for the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the prison's fences.  Daryl was on watch that night in the guard tower, and you had taken the initiative to join the archer that night. Everyone else had retreated into the prison for the night, leaving only you and Daryl awake.

“So are we gon' tell Nic 'bout us or not?” Daryl broke the silence, taking the last drag from his cigarette before putting it out next to him. “S'been over a month now. She deserves to know.”

Unbidden, flashes of that night a month ago arose in your mind. The feeling of his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body and the way he felt pressed against you. The feeling of your bodies becoming one was one that you wouldn't forget anytime soon, but the one memory you'd hold with you forever was the confession from the man next to you. After the heated, pleasurable moment you'd spent together, feelings were revealed, and you and the archer had unofficially started your relationship. You had both agreed to keep it a secret, but Nicolette was starting to get suspicious about the two of you.

“I'm okay with telling her tomorrow. She deserves to finally have confirmation on her suspicions,” you told him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “She already sees you as her dad, anyways.”

Daryl couldn't argue with that. Flashes of his own arose in his mind. A couple of days ago, he had returned from a run, battered and bruised. He could barely walk and both you and Nicolette were distraught. However, after he was patched up and resting in his cell and you were up in the guard tower for your shift, Nicolette had come to him in tears. He had hugged her tightly to his chest, acutely aware that she was transported back to that day on the farm when he had been shot. That night was the night Nicolette had confirmed that she saw Daryl as a father figure.

“Please don't leave. My mom needs you. I need you. We both need you in our lives. Please, Daryl.”

In that moment, even though she didn't know yet that you and Daryl were together, he knew that he wouldn't be able to live without either of you. You both were his entire world. Nicolette was his little girl. You were his partner, and there was no way he was letting either of you go.

“Dun' worry, Nic. I ain't goin' nowhere. I promise ya tha'.”

Shaken from his thoughts by your lips on his exposed shoulder, he turned his head to you, coming face to face with a mischievous smirk. He instantly knew what that smirk meant, and he helped you climb onto his lap.

“But,” you began, pulling his attention back to your previous discussion. “Let's worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, it's just me and you.”

Daryl smirked and attached his lips to yours. You may have been a popstar before the apocalypse, a celebrity living in a mansion, but in that moment, you were simply you. The woman Daryl cared for deeply, the woman Daryl was never gonna let go of.

Because in that moment, you were nothing but his.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐ #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl x y/n #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #the walking dead #daryl dixon imagine #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

[starshipsofstarlord]

locked away

summary. whilst hiding out from walkers in a closet, you grow extremely bored. the only thing to do is daryl, but you have to make sure he stays quiet

warnings. smut, handjob, sub!daryl, dom!reader, praising, mentions of gagging, crying

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

The aroma of cigarette smoke that clung addictively to his clothes filled your nostrils as you hid in union together, avoiding the stream of deadly walkers that marched in their haphazard staggering through the wide hallway. There had been worse that you survived through, so as long as you didn’t alert the parasites that filled the decayed human bodies of your presence, you would be fine.

Boredom struck you after the first hour of leaning all of your weight against the chipped brick wall, listening without consent to the groans and growls of the dangerous passers-by. If you had a nickel for each time you expressively rolled your eyes that had adjusted to the shadows which conjured a graphite colouring to which you could see, you would be astoundingly rich in a world without cash currency.

You had an impulse to blabber out the most random thoughts that appeared intrusively in your mind, although you were sure if you dared to your beloved Daryl would gag your mouth with that dirty red rag and tell you to shut up; and it wouldn’t be a first time for that. Your shoulders slumped defeatedly as the pressing circumstances of the long and drawn out waiting game refused to come to an end.

How many goddamn walkers were out there? Actually that was an answer you’d rather not find out whilst you were contained in a narrow closet which was consumed with lacklustre silence. Daryl wouldn’t even meet your eyes in the dark space, sternly pent up from your antics during the run that had lead you into being entrapped by your own free will and vigilance to live another day. He was pissed, and worst of all in this circumstance; turned on.

His pools of pitiful blue distinctly avoided your gaze, trying his darnest to focus on the stakes that were against you both. But he was pursued by a cloaking of consuming lust, his shoulders rigid as he thought repeatedly of your earlier words. If you’re a good boy, then maybe we’ll have some fun before we get home. It wasn’t likely to happen now, the bowman thought intuitively, sharply discarding the sweet images of pleasing you from his brain.

These walkers were preying risk to more than just his life, he felt like he could explode from the overbearing desire to feel your hands rake upon his entire body, and he mentally cursed as he felt his cock spring to life at just the the sinful thought. He grunted in solitary longing, pacing with light and feline like steps as much as he could in the limited ground that was cemented in the storage room.

“Something wrong?” You almost inaudibly spoke, cocking your head as the corners of your mouth twitched in mocking amusement, and he would have whined in response if there wasn’t the threat of the passing walkers merely inches away. “Come here, let me help you baby.” His head was lowered in a submissive bow as he followed your command, creeping towards you until your chests were all but touching.

It was something you adored, to see Daryl in such a state, and it made you feel powerful without any limits. The flow of your bloodstream began to pound with revelations with what you could make your obedient man disperse himself to. It was like he was a buffet of possibilities, however his arousal was rubbing against your thigh, making you recall his desperation, and it would be satire and cruel for you to allow him to suffer without your amorous caregiving.

You shuffled, keeping a balance on your body weight so that you didn’t accidentally stagger backwards into the buckets or moulding mops that were leant against the wall to your left, as you lowered your hands to his wide hips, giving him an affectionate squeeze before you turned him in your embrace so that his back was facing your front.

Admittedly there were times where you loved to listen to him beg and cry for lustrous attention, but now was not the time; neither one of you could make so much as a speck of noise, it was going to be difficult as often times Daryl would draw out long and pathetically attractive moans each time you held contact with his cock in any manner, but he would just have to be quiet somehow, and if he couldn’t control himself, you had ideas of how to make him.

“Be a good boy.” You whispered with sultry warning in his ear as you reached further around him, slowly and tantalisingly unweaving his belt, pulling the strip of leather through the flimsy loops which granted you access to undo the button and fly of his trousers. With swift motions you did so, carefully shoving them down his sides as his cock was released from its containment. It was leaking defiantly with precum, and he resorted to calming breaths as he steadied his own self into being relaxed despite the nearby danger.

He inhaled immediately as he felt one of your hands wrap perfectly around his achingly hard length, gliding up and down the taught and erect flesh which made him throw his long locked head back in pleasure. His eyelids twitched as he fought against his desire to let you know how utterly amazing you were making him feel, as he bit his own bottom lip over and over. You dared to increase the pace in which you were stroking him, and a shattered gasp tumbled past his bared teeth.

Without so much as a thought, you smothered his mouth with your hand, pinching his nose a couple of times between your thumb and forefinger to restrain the oxygen he was permitted for a few seconds. A vibration riveted against your palm, as a quiet moan was silenced by your restriction. His whole body was rattling, as he began to rut his hips so that his cock was moving in the grasp of your soft hand.

“Such a good baby.” Your breath hit his ear as you forbade yourself from saying anything else, knowing that it would be obscenely dangerous, and the hoard of vacantly minded walkers were more than capable of pushing through the locked door. Your thumb rubbed expertly against his tip, as tears began to fill Daryl’s eyes, however he continued to jerk into your grip, and soon they fled from his tear ducts. His salt water, pleasure filled tears rolled onto your hand, weaving across your flesh as his tongue rolled pathetically around your palm, losing any grounding to reality that he had.

It drove you on farther, moving your hand at a quicker pace to make him spill over the edge, and with one last tough tug, he expelled his seed from his balls, it shooting directly in the air for a moment, and landing vividly on the ground. Daryl continued to shake like a leaf, breathing a kind kiss to your palm as he held your hand against his mouth for a while longer. This was definitely an interesting tale, however you would never tell anybody else. Everyone else thought Daryl was the being of all dominance in your relationship, and it made you inwardly cackle at how wrong you were.

He was as submissive as a human could come (pun intended), and he stood there idly and cautiously as you aided him in tucking his cock back into his confines. You grappled his belt, pulling it back around into its holding as you pulled it tightly around his waist, your eyes glowing with the satisfaction that you could make him so easily crumble. With one last pat to his sensitive bulge, you waited a while longer, until the coast was clear and it was only a few stragglers of the herd to take out in order to make your unruly escape.

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon fluff #norman reedus smut #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus imagine

[xoxo-sarah]

Ms. Perfect

↝a/n: this is an old idea that I had in the back of my notes app. Oops.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

↝warning: death, widow!Reader, apocalypse, mean! Daryl, swearing, not proofread

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

↝⎙ 4.23.24

Daryl wasn't sure why he hated you so much. You were nice to everyone around you, even understanding. But the sight of you makes the blood in his veins boil.

It became a routine; you and him sniping at each other, digging up trauma neither of you really wanted to. He just got under your skin. Like now.

“Sorry, in case you haven' noticed, the world ain't all rainbows and sunshine anymore. We don't shit money to buy the newest thing. Life is different, Doll. Get used to it.” He drawled, his eyebrows scrunched together.

There he goes again.

You weren't even talking to or about him, but he had heard you. That had been enough for him to butt in, apparently.

Ever since you had stumbled your way into Daryl's group early on, Daryl had had it out for you. At the creek, he would be pointing out how your hair had to have been done recently. Your jewelry, clothes, how smooth your skin looked from the expensive moisturizers and night creams you had to use, your newly manicured nails- ignoring the dirt and blood underneath-, and the shine in your eyes. You didn't have the shine at first, but when you would hang out with Carol, you would smile, and the recent glazed look was gone.

Your eyes shone brightly like the stars in the countryside. Not that you would know. You probably never had the chance to see how bright the stars shone in the city.

You were unbothered by the people at the campsite, keeping to yourself. You didn't have to worry about anything when the world was built for your liking and convenience.

Daryl despised you and that god-awful rock on your finger that could feed him for probably 6 months to a year. He glared at the ring every chance he got—so much so that you eventually yanked it off, throwing it in the murky pond.

Even after leaving the campsite, you stayed with the group, arguing with Daryl along the way.

“I get it, you're used to having people do everything for you, but we're not always going to be with you, Princess. Sorry life now is so much different from your perfect life before.” For a quiet guy, he always had so much to say to you. All negative.

You bit your cheek, glancing from Maggie—who you were originally talking to—to the dirty man in front of you. "Yeah-I had the perfect life. I had the fiancé that I couldn't wait to marry. I had the apartment that I had the luxury to design with my mother, gushing about the difference wallpapers." You smiled at the memory. Your mother had been so happy for you. "I had the fluffy dog that had its own room. I had the dad who would always talk about playing catch with his future grandchild. I had the money where I didn't have to worry about anything in life." You didn't falter as you felt behind your eyes begin to burn. " I did, alright? I had the life that almost every little girl dreams about. But it was yanked out of my hands, like everyone else's. One day, I didn't wake up to my fiancé kissing me, or the smell of burnt toast-- cause he didn't know how to cook. I woke up to him nowhere in sight. Instead, I heard yelling outside the door, car horns honking outside of the windows. When I opened the door, I saw my neighbors with white eyes, growling and clawing at the skin of the man I was going to marry and grow old with. His screams will haunt me 'til the day I die. But you will not ever hear me feeling bad for myself. I did have the perfect life, but that doesn't matter now. So, get over -yourself-, cause I am just trying to survive just like you."

Daryl watched your eyes gloss over, your nostrils flare. You were rightfully pissed. And right. He hadn't heard you weep for your past-- ever. You had jumped right into survival mode as soon as he laid eyes on you. You had held your own too- most people called you a badass, Daryl wouldn't let himself verbally agree. With that, you turned and walked away. Maggie shuffled awkwardly, glancing from you to Daryl. She wore a disappointed frown.

Weeks. You ignored his existence for weeks, 2 weeks to be exact. Everytime he would go up to you, you would walk away. Even if you were in the middle to a conversation. The person you were talking to wouldn't mind, really. They would've known about your bitter back-and-forth. They wouldn't think anything of it.

Daryl just wishes you would give him a chance to at least try to apologize. After you had let your walls down and told him about what the end of the world was like for you, he felt bad - pathetic, even. He was so jealous about how you lived before the outbreak, he didn't care about how it had affected you. He should've.

The moonlight led him towards your house, his hands fidgeting. The streets were silent, everyone already in bed. He hadn't been able to sleep. The thought of you kept him up in a different way than before.

His knuckles hovered over your door. You had to be in bed. Was it worth it? You would probably be too tired to yell at him. He knocked.

It took a minute for the door to open. You stood, rubbing sleep from your eyes, a sleep frown on your face. At the sight in front of you, your hand dropped, your sleepy eyes immediately rolling in annoyance. "Oh my god-" You tried to close the door, but his boot caught it before it could close all the way. "Move your foot, Dixon."

"Listen." His eyes were pleading, something you weren't used to. You kept the door open when he reluctantly moved his boot. " 'm sorry."

You scoffed, Sure, you are."

" 'm serious. " He looked at the floor as he brought his hand up, turning it and showing his hand. "Not sure why I kept it." At the sight of your ring, tears bordered your eyes. Your head pressed against the side of the door as your body shook with a silent sob. Daryl didn't look at you. He let you grieve for whatever you wanted to in that moment. He let you have that moment. After your sobs died down, his calloused hand took yours, opening your hand and dropping the ring into your palm.

"You're a dick." You hiccupped.

"I know." 

•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!]

#xoxo-sarah 🩷 #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #twd imagines #twd fanfic #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead angst #the walking dead x you #🐿️

[darylmydix]

730 DAYS | daryl dixon [coming soon]

“we protect our people. we’ll protect you–i’ll protect you.”

“don’t make promises you can’t keep, daryl dixon.”

summary: 2 years since you’ve been trapped with the saviors as one of negan’s many wives, and 2 weeks since you’ve made your escape into the world of the living dead, anticipating whatever fate awaits you; but when you meet unlikely hero, daryl dixon, he saves you and brings you to alexandria. it’s a paradise you’ve longed for, but how long will this freedom last until negan finds you?

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, sexual assault, mentions of noncon, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, murder, slow burn-ish, strong language, torture, decapitation, s6-11, 18+, minors dni.

author’s note: so i started watching twd again, which i haven’t watched in years but now that i’m a grown woman i’ve been feigning for daryl lmao, he’s so fine idcidcidc.

000

#daryl x reader #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead #negan smith #negan x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixion smut #daryl dixon angst #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl fluff #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon fluff #daryl angst #daryl smut #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fic

[lunajay33]

Change Part.4

•🩰🎀🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

Part.3

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since Daryl had gifted me these Ballerina slippers, I couldn’t take them off at home, I had practiced the swan dance with them it made me feel really special like he actually cared about me and my interests, then there was a knock at my door it was really late at night so I didn’t know who it was, I left my room walking out to the front door opening up the door and Daryl was there hunched over bloody and groaning

I was the only one home so I didn’t have to worry about Jackson or my parents coming out and making a scene, I wrapped my arm around his waist and steadied him with my other hand against his chest, leading him inside into the bathroom so he could sit on the floor, I rummaged through my cabinet looking for a first aid kit completely panicking

I grabbed it as I saw it tucked back in the corner, grabbing a cool wet cloth and sitting infront of him

“Daryl, what happened?” I asked as my voice shock, he was busted and blue all over and he couldn’t even look me in the eyes, I gently patted the cool cloth over his forehead swooping his hair back

I didn’t push him obviously he just wanted to sit in silence, whatever happened it was brutal and if I were him I wouldn’t wanna be in a chatty mood either, I continued to wash away the blood on his face and arms, sanitizing any cut I came across placing bandaids over the deeper ones wishing I could do something about his bruising

“Is there anywhere else I can help?” I asked just above a whisper as to not spook him wanting to keep him relaxed

He turned his back to me and slowly reached back and lifted his shirt up to his to his shoulders revealing some old deep welted scars and some fresh bleeding ones, so deep it hurt to think how he got them, I rinsed out my cloth and soaked it again since it was already filled with blood, cleaning and sanitizing having to cover them in bandages due to the size of them, my heart bleed for him, who would hurt Daryl he was the sweetest person in the world he deserved all the happiness it offered

“One sec” I threw the cloth in the sink and left to my room finding a oversized black shirt I had for sleeping and some bigger sweatpants, and a pair of boxers I had got once thinking they were pj shorts, bringing them back to the washroom

“Here you can change into these when you’re ready I’ll just be right outside the door if you need help” I said hearing him grunt as I closed the door

I heard shuffling around until the door opened and we made eye contact, I didn’t move and neither did he until……….his arms were wrapped around my and his face buried in my shoulder, I softly wrapped my arms around his waist

“I’m here for you Daryl, always”

He pulled back looking down at me with such dread in his eyes

“Can…..can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course, I told you before you’re welcome to stay with me whenever you need, come on” I lead him to the kitchen getting him a glass of water and making a quick sandwich for him just incase he hadn’t had supper, I say with him in silence as he finished up

“Thanks”

“No problem” I placed the dishes in the washer holding my hand out to him he quickly took it and we went back to my room

“You can get in bed I gotta get in pjs too” I said smiling as he plopped down on the bed

As I was picking out some clothes he spoke up

“Yer wearing em” I looked back seeing he was looking at my feet, the slippers

“Oh ya, I was…….. “practicing” when you came, I love them” I smiled as I took them off and laid them on my cabinet

I quickly changed and laid in bed next to him, still leaving some space since we’ve never done this before

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“Nah Angel, ya did more than enough” he smiled weakly

“Do you wanna talk about it yet?”

“I ain’t ever told anyone…….its my old man, mean prick” he said breaking eye contact

“You’re staying here from now on, or atleast when you feel you need a break” I said placing my hand in his under the blankets between us

“Wish I could stay with ya just me and you”

“Maybe one day, we could start over together and actually be happy” I said thinking about what that life would look like what we could be

“We can……….we will”

•12 Years Later🩷

“Daryl Come on you’re going to be late for work!” I yelled out as I pored some coffee into two thermos’

Daryl came rushing out of the washroom buttoning up his plaid shirt huffing and puffing

“Sorry just real tired from work” he said as he leaned in kissing me gently still as gentle as he was when we shared our first kiss so many years ago

“Well since tomorrow is Saturday and we’re both off how about we have a special day together, I’m all your Mr Dixon” I winked handing him over his coffee

“Can’t wait Mrs Dixon” he smirked

As I was at work grading papers I kept thinking about all the moments that lead to my life now, Daryl and I assigned as partners, becoming friends, then that night he came over injured from his demon of a father, after that things kind of snowballed we continued to hang out, he stayed over more nights growing our relationship stronger, eventually he asked me to and I quote “be his girl” obviously excepting, after graduation with both our save money we were able to get a little apartment in Atlanta while I studied to become a teacher and he worked at an auto body shop, once my schooling I was done we found a little cabin like house in the woods around the outskirts of our home town, sure it was conflicting but now that my family had moved away and it was only Merle around sometimes it felt more comfortable to be where we met and set our roots, the day we moved in and it was just the two of us he proposed with a little silver ring he made himself

•Flashback

“Hey Angel can ya get me that box on the counter?” Daryl asked pointing to a little green box laid amongst the clutter from the days move

“Sure!” As I picked it up and turned to hand it to him he was down on one knee rubbing his hands together his way of showing his nerves

“Baby?”

“Angel, the day ya stepped into my life I knew it was gonna change, my lil ballerina, never thought I’d be so lucky ta get a woman as sweet as ya but I wanna spend the rest of this life with you, will ya marry me Angel?”

•

We got married down at town hall, I wore a knee length canvas colors woven dress as he wore his nicest plaid that matched my dress and that night…….well it was a night to remember forever, I got a job at the school I grew up in and he got another job fixing motorcycles at a shop and that leads to now, I was incredibly happy with our lives I only wished I got to become a ballerina, Daryl use to watch me dance in my room sometimes helping me stretch and help with certain moves and still bought me anything ballerina or swan lake related, I even had a little collection in the spare room of our house but maybe………..maybe this little baby girl would like dance aswell I thought as I rubbed my little bump

Daryl and I didn’t really talk about kids much but here I am, 3 months pregnant and Daryl was more excited than I thought he’d be, even more gentle with me, treating me like glass it was adorable though, over the years I noticed he got more harsh with people I know deep down it’s because of his past but he was never like that with me and we always had talks when he was ready about things that happened to him, but every part of this man I love with my whole heart he changed my life for the better

I was broken out of my thought when one of my students called out to me

“Mrs Dixon what are those people doing out there?” Little Melanie asked pointing out the window

I got up and glanced outside to where the supposed problem was and what I saw caught my breath, people limping around ripping and biting into the flesh of others

“What the hell”

Please lmk what you think and what you’d like to see in the story going forward, any notes or advice is appreciated 🩷🎀

Taglist: @pinchofthetwd @bigbaldheadname @strawberrykiwisdogog @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @l0kilaufeys0n7 @welcumetomyescape @severelykinky @tesfayera @daryldixmedown @secretsicanthideanymore @lettersfromyourlove @mordilwen-of-mirkwood @secretsicanthideanymore @superbowlisgay @pollito-chicken

#twd fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #daryl dixon #twd x reader #twd fluff #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon series #twd #the walking dead series

[storywriter12]

You and daryl getting hot in the bedroom

You: have you got protection?

Daryl:yeah never leave home without it (pulls out a knife)

You:no... Daryl I ment a condom

Daryl:oh.... Oh no I don't have one on me

You:🤦

#the walking dead #zombie apocalypse #Getting spicy #Hot in the bedroom #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon #mine #twd incorrect quotes #norman reedus #Cute isn't he? #I could never see him have sex but oh well

[minervadashwood]

Daryl Dixon x NB!Reader (afab, plus-size) 🏹 Daryl x Reader x Rick 🛡️

The Cop and the Criminal - Chapter 32

~~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist

~~~~~~~~

Summary: It's been a week or so since Glenn and T-Dog saved Rick. Now, your pack is getting settled in new place. Word count: 3K This chapter contains: Nesting, going into heat, firearms, smut.

Author's note: I am a little behind on posting chapters to tumblr. So I'll be trying to fix that in the next few days.

==

Nest.

It was all you could think about as you took water and soap to every surface in the kitchen. The other rooms had been cleaned, from top to bottom, including the loft and the basement. The loft had a low ceiling, but Ro and Merle had made their bed up there, using an air mattress and sleeping bags. Carl slept on the main floor, closest to the wood stove, while you, Rick, and Daryl had a makeshift bed in the basement. It was a far cry from your house, a home filled with Daryl’s handiwork, not to mention modern furniture. All that remained were some old, hand-made chairs and a small kitchen table.

This cabin, like the others around it, was old, from the 1850s, you’d guessed, based on the structure and style. In more recent years the land had been repossessed then abandoned. Before then, generations of Dixons had lived here, in their own version of Walton’s mountain, before the Great Depression.

Despite the bedding downstairs in the basement of this old, cozy cabin, your omega was desperate for safety, seclusion, and comfort.

As you cleaned, you were also looking after Carl. He sat at the table, still and focused as he drew pictures to give Lori and Shane when they arrived. He’d grown quiet over the last few days, since you left home.

You hoped, for his sake, that Lori and Shane would get here soon.

The past few days remained a chaotic whirlwind, made all the worse by your biological imperative. Soon after you met Glenn and T-Dog, your mates decided it was time to get out of town, before things got worse.

The next morning, you packed what you could: clothes, food, and supplies. When it came time to pack up the pillows and blankets from your nest, you sat frozen in your nest, trying not to cry. That’s how Daryl found you when it was almost time to go.

“C’mon, Bubbie,” he said, clearing space so he could sit next to you. “You’ll make a new one.”

“You built this for me,” you replied gesturing at the bed, then running your hand along the shelves behind it. “You made this a home. For us.”

Daryl gathered you in his arms. “Yer the one who made it a home. ‘Sides we’ll come back when it dies down.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think we will. The way Glenn describes the city…I don’t think this will be safe for a long time if the dead are migrating here.” You took a deep breath. “I know we have to go.”

“Don’ mean it’s easy,” he said, hugging you. After a moment, he got off the bed and opened one of the cherry wood chests he’d made for your nesting materials. He dumped out all the unused, pillows and blankets, still in their plastic wrapping.

What to take was your decision, but Daryl helped you, arranging everything in the chest, and packing it tightly.

Later, when it was time to go, Rick reassured you, too. “We’ll get you a place for your nest in time.”

“What if we have to move again, while I’m in heat?” you asked. “It will be soon.”

“I know. We both do. That’s why we’re goin’ now. And it’s why we need to stick together. Not just us, but the new guys, too.”

You nodded. Rick wrapped you up in a tight hug.

“We owe them. I owe them,” you said. “They brought you back to me.” Even in the short time you’d known Glenn and T, you knew them to be good people. T-Dog, an alpha, kept his distance from you; he must have known you were close to your heat, but you’d gotten to know Glenn a little. He had strategic way of thinking, and you thought maybe he was some sort of weekend warrior. But no, just a delivery driver.

Now, in the cabin, you gripped the edge of the sink, panic rising. Trying to control your breathing, you glanced at the wooden chest sitting by the basement door. Then, you stared at Carl’s back, as a sudden, unwelcome wave of frustration came over you. Your omega didn’t want him near your nest. In fact, it didn’t even want your mates near it, not yet.

Outside, Merle and Ro kept watch while your mates were clearing out other cabins, making them livable. T and Glenn took one, next to yours. You bristled at having strangers so close by when your heat was imminent, but you owed them.

The front door swung open, and you flinched, letting out a whimper of surprise. Despite the gust of cold wind from the door, you were too hot to even notice, but Carl shivered.

Daryl stepped in, quickly closing the door, and going to add logs to the wood stove.

He took one look at you, and whether it was your bond or Daryl’s keen eye, he seemed to know exactly what you needed. Jutting his chin toward the basement, he sat down next to Carl, distracting the boy while you went to make your nest.

The chest was too heavy for you to carry, and through your bond you felt Daryl’s impulse to help you. Rejecting it and putting up a mental wall, you grabbed armfuls of your blankets and pillows, making a few trips up and down the basement stairs. When you were done, you locked the door at the top of the steps and got to work.

The padded mats you cleaned earlier had dried. One still held hints of Daryl’s musk, pine, so you put it in the center foundation of your nest and started arranging everything around it. Nestled in the corner of the room, the nest began to grow. Releasing your perfume, you set about making the entire area yours. Blankets were piled on top of each other, pillows lined the walls. After hours of work, you were almost satisfied and crept back up the stairs to find the house empty except for Daryl and Rick, who were both pacing in the open-spaced living room and kitchen.

“Carl?” you said, still on edge, but in control of your anxiety for the moment.

“With Jesus.” Rick assured you.

“Whaddaya need from us, Bubbie?” Daryl asked, his voice low and soft.

“I need your clothes, something,” you said, your voice almost whiny. Your first heat had been so perfect. But this heat was different. You couldn’t be sure your pack would even be safe here, or how long you could stay in one place. Especially with Rick and Daryl unable to protect everyone like they had been.

Wasn’t it selfish of you to need them like you did? Not just one, but both? Yet how could you choose? Yes, you were more in sync with Daryl, but he’d claimed you and been with you for half a year now. You cared just as much for Rick, and soon you’d be bonded with him, too.

Daryl started striding across the room, but you backed away, shaking your head.

“Not yet.”

Rick shrugged out of his fur-lined deputy’s coat and untucked his shirt, unbuttoning it as you watched. His bare chest gleamed with sweat, his soft dusting of hair enticing. Your stomach clenched and all you wanted was to lay on top of him and let him ease the growing ache in your belly.

Meanwhile, Daryl froze in place, and, although it took you a moment, you finally realized what you’d inadvertently asked of him. Quickly, you opened your suitcase and started pulling out unwrapped Christmas presents. What a simpler time that had been, when your most pressing worry was dropped stitches and miscounted rows.

Setting some things on the kitchen table, you approached Daryl with his poncho, it was hooded, with two layers of thick wool.

“Trade for your coat?” you asked him.

He took it and brought it to his nose, sniffing deeply.

“Ya make this? Fer me?”

You nodded. “I did some research and it’s supposed to keep you warm while you use your crossbow.”

Your mate’s face was red, and he was blinking quickly as he stared down at the gift.

“Merry Christmas,” you said quietly. Daryl nodded without looking up, refusing to meet your eyes or Rick’s.

“I-I-I have more,” you stammered, unnerved by Daryl’s reaction. Why would he cry over a poncho? You gave Rick his wide scarf and matching gloves. Daryl had a pair of gloves, too, fingerless with rubber grips sewn on the underside—for driving his motorcycle.

“Bunny,” Rick breathed, still shirtless and sniffing his scarf. “These are amazing. And your scent is all over them.”

Daryl grunted, and got out of his coat, handing it to you, and putting on his poncho.

“’S real nice, ‘mega,” he said, adjusting the poncho on his shoulders then grabbing his crossbow from where it sat nearby.

Clutching Daryl’s coat and then grabbing Rick’s shirt, you said. “Soon. But --”

Daryl looked up. “Ya dun wan’ anyone in ‘ere but us.”

You nodded.

Rick said, “While your finishin’ up, we’ll get Carl settled in with Jesus. Already talked to him about your heat.”

“You did?”

“Carl knows that you’ll need me— us -- for a few days.”

Of course, children knew, vaguely what an omega in heat entailed. Not the actual mating, but the privacy, the duty of alphas to care for their partners.

“And the others?” you asked.

“Merle swore off drinkin’ an’ Ro’s good with the kid. Glenn and T helpin’ with keepin’ watch.”

Their reassurances consoled you. Besides, the betas in your pack knew what they needed to do, and you trusted them. But Carl…he had been taken from his mom and now his dad, too.

You pointed to two crocheted Woobles on the table. “These are for Carl.” Both were dinosaurs from his favorite cartoon.

“I’ll make sure he gets them,” Rick said.

“Go’n now,” Daryl told you, jutting his chin at the basement door. “Be dark soon, an’ cold.”

You nodded, renewed determination compelling you to tweak your nest until it was perfect and cozy for your alphas, for yourself, and for the days that followed.

*

Finally, your nest was as close to perfect as it was going to get. Surveying the pile of blankets and pillows, your omega was finally happy to have a place to share with your mates.

Despite the stress of the past few days, a glimmer of happiness bloomed. Rick could claim you. Daryl would make love to you. And the world outside would fall away.

Skin still hot, you left the basement in search of your men. You’d been cramping steadily for the past hour, nothing unmanageable but growing more intense as time went on.

Outside, you heard the rumble of engines, and a wave of tension hit you. Not your own, but Daryl’s

Grabbing your coat, you ran outside, finding Daryl on the porch and Rick standing in the worn path near the house. A little behind Rick were Merle and Ro; Merle with a shotgun pointed at the winding path that led to the cabins.

In the distance, three vehicles approached, a Jeep, a Cherokee, and an RV.

“That’s Shane and Lori,” Rick said, but his hand was on the butt of his revolver, you noticed.

You approached Daryl, standing next to him as he held his crossbow, lowered, but seemingly ready to aim at a moment’s notice.

“You said it was just them two,” Merle shouted. “Then explain the rest of ‘em.”

The cars continued to approach, Rick glanced around, his eyes landing on Merle, who had his rifle raised.

“Put that down, Merle,” Rick ordered.

“Ya gonna make me?”

Daryl gruffly shouted, “Merle!”

Merle shrugged his shoulders. “Fine. If y’all wanna risk it, but don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

Glenn, from across the way, spoke up. “It’s all good. More people, yeah? Safer that way.”

You agreed with Glenn and Rick, at least on principle. Yet, right now, on the verge of your heat, the thought of strangers being near you or your nest, felt like a threat on your pack’s territory.

Just then, Carl ran out of the cabin next door, without a coat on. Merle lowered his gun even more at the sight of the pup, but you could still see the tension in his shoulders. Next to him, Ro was quiet and still, his hand at his side holding a gun.

The red Jeep barely came to a stop before Lori appeared, throwing herself out of the passenger side door and running to Carl. Shane got out, too, and you relaxed at that. If Rick trusted Shane enough to tell him about this place, then the people with Shane had to be trustworthy, too, right?

Shane’s scent didn’t alarm you, not like it had the first time you’d met him, but there were more alphas’ scents emanating as other people emerged from their vehicles. One alpha’s odor burnt in your nostrils; when a balding, scowling man looked your way, you knew it was him. In the same car were a thin woman and a cowering little girl, who was around Carl’s age.

The alpha stared at you, his eyes bulging, it seemed, making you gasp and hide behind Daryl. Daryl squared his shoulders and adjusted his grip on the crossbow as Rick took an intimidating step toward the strange alpha.

Still, the frightening man didn’t look away.

Rick’s voice sliced through your fog. “Inside. Now.”

Not a command, and not directed at you.

Daryl said, “Holler if—”

“I will,” Rick replied, keeping his eyes on the strangers.

Daryl took you by the arm and guided you back into the cabin. Inside the warm living room, you took off your outerwear as quickly as you donned it moments ago. Your body was at war with your mind. Cramps of need swept through your middle, beginning the incessant pulsing at your core. You reached for the kitchen table to steady yourself, but Daryl caught you, holding you tightly against him, your backside pressing against his front. Slick moistened your underwear, and Daryl’s reaction was nearly instantaneous as you felt him grow hard against you.

Glancing out the windows to see Rick shaking hands with the strangers, you trembled as Daryl let out a possessive growl and rubbed his scent on you. Melting against him with a whimper, you let your instincts take over, ignoring the activity outside. With a huff, Daryl let go of you for just a moment to shoulder his crossbow, then he practically shoved you to the basement door. Eagerly you obeyed, flying down the stairs and burrowing on top of your nest.

“Daryl,” you whined, stripping off your layers of warm clothing and gazing up at him.

He locked the door, and after placing his weapon nearby, Daryl laid next to you, pulling you against him and running his teeth along your neck.

“Fuck, Bubbie,” he groaned, and began kissing his mark. With his hand on your hip, he pulled you to him and threw a leg over you, kissing and fondling you onto your back. Ridding himself quickly of his clothes, Daryl lowered himself above you, his bare skin on yours as he settled between your legs and kissed you again.

Your core throbbed, clenching and unclenching, demanding more than kisses from the alpha on top of you. Daryl started pressing his cock to the apex of your thighs, just slowly grinding his hips against you as his mouth and hands worked you to a fever pitch. You grabbed at him, too, sinking your nails into his back, squeezing his upper arms, reaching for his ass to urge him closer. Daryl was frantic and somehow still gentle, knowing all your favorite places for his mouth and hands. The scent of your arousal only grew stronger, and Daryl groaned in response. Fumbling, he rearranged himself so he rested on one forearm while his other hand cupped your mound. Taking one breast into his mouth, Daryl sucked and nipped at your sensitive bud as he slipped a finger inside you.

“Yer so wet, ‘mega’” he told you, “Jus’ lettin’ me right in. Feel so good on my hand.”

Your belly fluttered at his praise. Raising your hips to meet his hand you moved slowly, then with more intensity as he added another finger. His hand knew just how to make you come unraveled.

“Yes, Daryl, please .” you begged, getting close.

Suddenly, Daryl’s fingers left you, and you cried out in protest. He silenced you with a kiss on your mouth, immediately breaching the seam of your lips with his tongue. At the same time, his cock slipped through your folds and found its home in your soaking, needy pussy.

“Ye-e-e-sss,” you moaned. His cock was so big and perfect, stretching you and filling you. When he started moving you hung onto him for dear life, savoring the feel of him inside you, of his mouth on yours, of his entire body caging you in.

In your soul, you felt Daryl too, his passion and his desire, crashing into you the more he worked your body. He paused his kisses and locked eyes with you, holding your face in his hands as he thrust, the steady movement of his cock inside you sending you over the edge.

“I love you, Daryl,” you moaned, pulsing around him and holding his gaze. His knot notched into place, and he came, filling you even more. Nuzzling your gland and his mark, Daryl kissed you gently, then his mouth moved, lightly kissing your jaw then your mouth. He collapsed on top of you then rolled you over so you could lay on his chest, his knot holding you together. Reaching beside you, you found one of your favorite knitted blankets and covered you both.

Still breathing heavily, Daryl cradled you in his arms, teeth teasing your earlobe as you sighed against him.

“I love ya, too, Bubbie,” he whispered, speaking the words aloud for the first time.

You wondered if he felt the fullness of your heart through the bond. He must have because he sighed and relaxed, whispering more sweet words in your ear.

“So perfect, my omega, so strong.”

Almost nothing else existed as Daryl held you in your makeshift nest. Only one piece was missing, and as you nestled into Daryl’s chest, you hoped that Rick would join you soon.

==

To be continued.

==

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#mdop #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd #twd fanfic #plus size #plus size reader #plus size fanfic #minerva writes #the cop and the criminal #omegaverse #alpha beta omega dynamics #a/b/o #nonbinary reader #enby reader #rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #daryl dixon x reader x rick grimes #rick grimes x reader x daryl dixon #6739

[sundrop-writes]

Announcing my new fic: Heaven's Gate

Heaven's Gate is a long oneshot starring Daryl Dixon and a gender neutral reader character, featuring angst, hurt and comfort, and some fluff.

In this fic, you and Daryl get separated when the prison is attacked by the Governor, and though you both believe the other person is dead, you two end up finding each other at the most unexpected time. This fic is about hope, the human connection, and how love is about more than romance - it's about how people take pieces of each other and grow with them, never truly able to forget each other.

This fic is going to be a longer oneshot that is currently about 15k long - and will likely be longer by the time it has gone through editing. It is 80% of the way done in my drafts (not including editing), and I hope to have it posted by April 30th - which is a tentative date that may change. If you want to know for certain when the fic is posted, you can follow me here and turn on notifcations or you can subscribe to me on AO3 to get an email notification when the fic is posted. I am really excited to share this fic with all of you 💖.

Below is a short preview of the fic - so if you wanna get a better sense for the upcoming fic you can read it. If you enjoy this preview and you're excited for what the fic holds, please let me know!

Also an important note: with my gender neutral reader fics, I don't use any references to gender whatsoever (this is not a 'GN afab' fic). And in this fic in particular, I didn't use any pronouns (other than you/yours) or gendered terms for the reader - and at points where the terms they/them were used, I made it purposefully vague so that the dialogue could be referring to the whole group as 'they' or just the reader. I want my gender neutral fics to be enjoyed by everyone - cis women, cis men, gender non conforming people, trans people - every kind of fanfiction reader.

I am making this post for two major reasons - one, I want to generate as much excitement for oneshots as there is for series. Especially for oneshots that are longer than 10k because those take a lot of time and effort. If a series is like a TV show, then long oneshots are like a feature film. And two - nobody seems to read my pinned post where I announce new upcoming fics anyway, so I might as well make posts like these so that people can know what to expect from me. And hopefully you guys will get excited about my upcoming fics this way. And when I tag these posts with the relevant tags, people interested in those topics can follow me to anticipate the fic if they want to read it.

Heaven's Gate (Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader) - Preview

Preview Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: no pronouns used for the reader other than you/yours; there are major plot spoilers for The Walking Dead if you are watching the show for the first time - spoilers for Season 2 all the way up through Season 5; typical warnings for TWD - mentions of death, emotional despair; all of these themes and emotions are expanded upon in the full fic.

...

“Daryl!” 

You called out his name as you jogged up toward the stables, and he stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to catch up with him. 

“Daryl, hey.” You greeted him with a small smile. “Rick told me you’d be up here.” 

He grunted in reply. “Yeah. ‘m gonna take a horse out. Make better ground t’ look for the girl.” 

Your stomach clenched at him mentioning her. 

The group was supposed to be headed out towards Fort Bennet - supposed to be finding refuge at the hopefully safe military base. Instead, you were all setting up camp at the very reluctant Hershel Greene’s farm, not straying too far from where you had lost one of your own in the hopes of finding her. 

But that was why you had come to talk to Daryl in the first place. 

Sophia had become like a sister to you in the few short months that you had known her, and though it was unlikely, you were hopeful that she was alive - that she would be found. And you did believe that Daryl would be the one to find her. 

“How’s the trail?” You asked. “Do you think you know which way she headed? You - you can be honest with me.” 

You hesitated on the last part. But you did want his honesty more than anything. And you knew that he was never one to sugar-coat things. Even if you hadn’t told him that, he would have given you the truth anyway. 

“Trail’s a little muddy.” He said, doling out that honesty. “‘m gon follow the river. It’s her biggest landmark out there, so she’ll probably be somewhere around it.” 

You smiled at him. And then, you remembered - 

“I brought you something.” You noted, reaching for the back pocket of your jeans. 

Daryl watched with quiet curiosity as you pulled out a piece of paper - when you showed it to him, he quickly realized that it was a half-used set of stickers. 

“These are some of the stickers that I got for Sophia,” You explained. “My mom always used to tell me that cardinals are good luck.” 

You peeled off a sticker of a bright red bird - as much of a nature man as he was, Daryl was never one for bird watching. He didn’t care about identifying certain species of birds unless he could shoot and eat them. But he quickly reasoned that this must be the cardinal that you spoke of. 

“Give me your bow.” You said, shoving the rest of the sticker sheet into your back pocket again and holding out your hand expectantly. 

“I don’t need no luck.” He replied, voice full of snark. 

“Just give it.” You replied - equally snarky, equally stubborn. 

Daryl sighed and tugged his bow’s strap over his head, presenting it to you. You placed the sticker on the bow’s handle, in one of the places where it wasn’t as worn down from him holding it. 

“There,” You said, giving it back to him with a smile. “Now you’re all set.” 

It was more for you than it was for him - a token of good faith and protection. The idea that you could do something to bring Sophia home when you felt so powerless. 

Daryl let out a harsh sound - somewhere between a laugh and a sarcastic snort as he walked away. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” You replied brightly, edging on sarcastic once again. 

… 

When the prison was attacked, Daryl got out with Beth. 

He almost couldn’t stand her bright eyes, big eyes staring at him, waiting for answers - her chirpy little voice, prodding at him, demanding that they ‘follow the trail’ and go look for everyone else. Telling him that he was a tracker, that he could find them. As if it was his damn responsibility just because he had the skills to get it done. 

It was all too reminiscent of you, telling him that he could find Sophia. That it wasn’t an ‘if’ - it was a ‘when’. 

Perhaps that was what got him off his ass and doing what he did best - reading the dirt. 

“What’re you doin’?” He asked, staring at the girl curiously as she went to one of the bushes and rushed to pick berries from branches. Had she not gotten enough to eat that morning? 

“They’ll be hungry when we find them.” Beth told him confidently. 

Of course. That undefeatable streak of optimism. 

Daryl knew that blueberries weren’t your favorite - but he should have something to give you. He would be too busy tracking the footprints to properly hunt for squirrels or rabbits and clean them for you. So, he found himself pulling a large bandana from his back pocket and offering it to Beth - something to hold the berries in to keep them safe as an offering for you. 

“Here.” He grunted at her. 

Beth smiled at him. 

It was one of the last smiles she gave him for a long time. 

When they came across those bodies splayed out beside the tracks - any sense of hope was crushed inside of him. The picture you had gifted him was heavy inside his breast pocket, and he hated that tears threatened his eyes - even if he knew that none of those bodies belonged to you. There was no trace of you there. 

The days started to blur into each other, and Daryl couldn’t get you off his mind. 

One hazy evening, as they both stared into the fire with dead looks on their faces, he took the drawing out of his pocket and unfolded it. 

For good luck. 

He didn’t believe in luck - because it didn’t exist. The world was fucked. Nobody was lucky. You and your good luck were dead. 

He tossed the drawing into the fire, and it was only a moment, when the corner of it had barely caught, when Beth snatched it out. She stomped on it with her boot, successfully saving it. 

“Don’t do that.” She hissed at him. 

Daryl snatched it from her, and crumbled it up, tossing it aside. He let out a grunt, but refused to look at her. 

“That was from Y/N, wasn’t it?” She posed. 

He could feel her imposing stare as she waited for an answer. 

He didn’t give her one. 

“You can’t burn them just because you think they’re dead.” Beth sighed. “You can’t burn up memories. We’re gonna find them. Y/N, and Maggie, and Michonne, and - and everyone.” 

Daryl scoffed. “Yeah. Cause that’s gon’ happen.” 

Beth rolled her eyes, but didn’t speak any further on the subject. 

After she had fallen asleep - when the fire was dull, Daryl picked up the crumbled ball and smoothed it out again. The charred corner hadn’t even touched your bird. He felt like a fool doing it, just as much of a fool as he accused you of being, but he folded it neatly - well, as neatly as he could - and then put it back into his breast pocket again. 

But that was the thing - Daryl wished that he could. He wished he could burn up those memories. 

That you would stop haunting him. Then he wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore.

… 

“Can I see it again?” Beth asked, suddenly changing the subject. 

Again, this was a confusing little whip for Daryl - something that clearly only made sense to Beth in her own drunken mind. 

“See what?” Daryl replied. 

“The picture.” Beth answered. “The one you tried to burn.” 

Daryl felt a pinch of guilt surge over him at the thought. Oddly enough, this was the one time he would be willing to admit that Beth was right - you can’t burn up memories. 

“It was Y/N, wasn’t it? That drew it.” Beth added on, her words slurring slightly - she lifted the mason jar of booze to her lips again and Daryl was tempted to snatch it away from her. 

Instead, he found his hand drifting to his breast pocket and reaching to take the picture out. He presented it to Beth, who put down her drink to unfold it - she stared at the picture fondly under the brightness of the moonlight, tracing a finger over the slightly faded details. 

“You know… my daddy used to tell me that a cardinal is like an angel.” Beth said, recognizing the bird from her father’s teachings on the farm. “Someone - someone you loved who passed away, watching over you from heaven.” 

“Y/N said they was good luck.” Daryl replied. 

Beth shrugged. “Same thing.” 

It was this thought that kept Daryl going for a long time. The idea that even if you were dead, you were watching over him somehow. He sure as hell didn’t believe that someone like Merle would be an angel - but you, you definitely were. And even if it was a waste of your eternal life, you would be determined to watch over Daryl - to make sure that he was safe, well-guided. 

You would make sure that he was lucky. 

That thought alone carried him through the long journey to D.C. 

It was something that lingered in his mind as the group hunkered down in a random barn - as he spotted something carved into one of the wooden beams holding the place up. Even though it wasn’t colored, he could have sworn that the long tail and pointed head of the silhouette indicated that the carving was meant to be cardinal. Of course. 

Who knows who had stayed in the barn before them - if it had been left there by a weary traveler, or even put there by someone who had used the barn before the turn. But Daryl could have sworn that you - your ghost, your angelic hand - had led him to this very spot. 

It was a thought that gave him strength as he held the doors up - helped to keep them from caving in while the storm raged outside. 

Your luck, and your damn bird - you would keep him safe. 

When they reached Alexandria, and they were forced to give up their weapons - Daryl spotted your bird perched on the fence. Bright red, with its pointy head cocked sideways at him. All too knowing, staring at him like it wanted to say something. Just like it had been when he had fallen off the cliff out in the woods when he had been looking for Sophia. 

Oddly enough, it made him feel safe giving up his crossbow - perching it on top of the fully loaded cart of weapons before the awkward, bespeckled woman wheeled it away. 

Rick was still weary of this new place after Terminus, and Daryl understood. He followed Rick’s lead. Especially because he couldn’t tell Rick that he had a good feeling about this place because he saw a damn bird. 

But even if it was just in spirit, he felt you there. He knew that it was the home you had chosen for them.

#sundrop speaks #sundrop writes #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x gn reader #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n

[feral4daryl]

masterlist || MDNI

sweet scent.

perv!daryl x fem!reader

summary: while looking for his crossbow around the house, daryl ends up finding a pile of your dirty clothes and... used panties of yours. and when no one's looking, he decides to have some fun with them.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl is in his late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18), not entirely proofread, smut, mean!daryl sort of, corruption kink, daryl being an absolute pervert, panties sniffing, daddy kink, masturbation, cussing, daryl imagining himself doing the dirtiest things to you (unprotected p-in-v, squirting, face fucking, praising, loss of virginity, cunnilingus and i think that's pretty much it)

word count: 2.8k

a/n: please proceed with caution, this piece of work portrays a few extreme or unusual fetishes, so if you're not comfortable with any of those i've listed above please do not ready this. the idea that inspired this work originally belongs to @dilfsandmartinis.

if there was something daryl absolutely hated, it was the feeling of uselessness.

since andrea had mistaken him for a walker and shot him from afar, grazing his head, useless was exactly how he felt, having to lay down on a bed the whole day and night, doing absolutely nothing but be left alone with his own thoughts. and oh, what a disgraceful fate.

everytime he wasn't focused on hunting, fighting or surviving in general, the farmer's sweet younger daughter flooded his mind. your hair, your face, your stupidly adorable sundresses, everything about you was so... distracting.

daryl wasn't ever the kind of guy to simp for a woman, but that one specific girl made him feel emotions and sensations that were hidden deep within his being for years, maybe even decades. feelings he thought had vanished from his heart a long time ago were now blooming all over again, like he was some stupid teenager looking at a playboy magazine for the first time.

there was something about your innocence, your adorable mannerisms, your sweet voice and your kindness that had awakened something in him, something he wasn't quite sure what it was.

no, he wasn't exactly a young man. and while being aware that you were very young, he couldn't help but feel so guilty for having those feelings. whenever you bended over to pick something up, he had to fight demons not to have a glimpse of your panties. he often wondered how could you be so careless by exposing yourself like that, even if you didn't do it on purpose.

and there was him again, thinking about you. it's like no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts away, they were like water, always finding a way in.

he huffed, feeling defeated. he knew he was still recovering from the incident, and that he should rest, but why was he following orders around anyways? he wasn't a damn puppy. plus, everybody else had left him there to go looking for sophia. he wanted to be able to help too. he was alive after all, and if he was alive, he believed he should be on his feet.

so that's what he did. he slowly lifted his right foot, resting it on the floor, then he did the same with his left one. his body reluctantly lifted itself up, and he immediately could feel the consequences for laying down for so long, his back killing him and his vision a bit foggy. anyways, he ignored any discomfort and started walking slowly, his head still a little dizzy.

then, he remembered he needed his trustworthy crossbow, he couldn't just leave unprotected like that. he looked around the room he was settled in but it was nowhere to be seen. he knew it was still in the house, so he left the room. he started walking down the corridor, his eyes attentively looking for any signs of his crossbow. he was even starting to think that his mates might've hidden it to force him to stay in the house when he spotted a halfway open door.

his calloused hands pulled it open, revealing a small bedroom, all pink themed and stupidly decorated. no, his crossbow wasn't likely to be there, it just looked like it belonged to one of hershel's daughters, but it was like something was calling him in.

he stepped in the room and it almost looked messy. the dressing table on the corner had lipsticks, combs, all sorts of make-up and girly stuff all piled up and... a perfume.

it was happening again, images of you flooded his mind and it was like he could almost smell you. oh, your sweet scent had the power to make him hard like nothing else. just by looking at that small bottle, just by imagining your scent, he could feel little shock waves travelling all the way down to his cock, threatening to awaken it.

he knew it was wrong, so fucking wrong thinking about a much younger girl like that. and it was even worse considering that you were the daughter of the man that provided him shelter in such difficult times. it felt ungrateful.

when he saw you for the first time, he didn't think much of you. he was actually careful, treating you like the stranger you were. and even when time passed, he never really got close to you. now and then you tried to share a word, even if just a little bit, but it seemed useless since he would reject all your attempted approaches. he didn't hate you like he tried to after acknowledging his disgusting desires for you, but he just couldn't allow himself to interact with a girl that made him sick to his stomach for all the wrong reasons.

your sweetness was almost annoying. the entire world had gone to shit, for goodness sake! dead bodies walking around and eating all the people they could find. how could you act so clueless all the time? daryl even wondered if you had ever seen a walker before, if you knew what was really happening out there. after all, it was very obvious that you were a daddy's girl, always protected under your father's wing.

but strangely enough, acknowledging that only made him protective towards you. he was always somewhat watching, always around you making sure you were safe and he barely knew why, he just felt like he should.

so he didn't stop himself from reaching over to your small perfume bottle. the design was very simple, no labels to be seen, time had probably faded it away. the cap was baby pink and heart shaped, and when he removed it, he immediately brought the bottle to his nose, giving it a gentle sniff.

fuck.

now, he was 100% sure that was your room. the fragrance was the same one that filled his nose and made him drunk in you everytime you walked by. he wondered if that was the scent he would feel if he ever hugged you, burying his face into your chest.

in that moment, he couldn't think about anything else, not rick, not carol, not his chores, not surviving, not even sophia. you were everything that he had in his fucked up mind.

he wouldn't feel so fucking guilty if his thoughts were only about your innocence and sweetness, but they were also dirty as fuck. countless were the times when daryl imagined groping you, running his hands all over your delicate body, feeling every texture, squeezing every junk and listening close to your every little whimper. he would pull your hair, gently at first, just to get it off your face and neck so he could pamper them with little wet kisses, gently scratching his teeth along them. he imagined he'd have to keep you on your feet himself, since you'd struggle to because of how weak your knees would get at all the sensations he would provide you and...

wait, no.

what was he thinking? was he out his fucking mind? he needed to stop those absolutely disgusting thoughts right away. he couldn't keep having those thoughts about you, not when you're out taking care of such important business with the others. he put the perfume bottle back on the dressing table, determined to let all that go. he knew he couldn't just let himself get so distracted like that over something so mundane and unimportant as his own sexual desires but then...

...he spotted a basket filled with clothes when he turned around to leave. his mind immediately started to rush all over again, and for the 100th time that day, he turned careless. he slowly approached it. shorts, tops, pants and so on could be seen at the top of the pile.

in that moment, he had totally forgot why he had entered that bedroom or even left his bed in the first place. he couldn't even remember the existence of his crossbow or his duties.

and then... he gets an idea. he starts going through the pile of dirty clothes and in no time, he finds your panties. they were white with a pink ribbon on the front, a clear reminder of your innocence. for a moment, he just looks at it, contemplating the possibilities. then, he remembers seeing you in it when you bended over to pick some off the floor the day before. he remembers catching a glimpse of it under your yellow sundress when you went to change his bandage.

that meant that those panties had been freshly worn.

if just your perfume ignited such vile desires in him, he couldn't even imagine what your natural scent could do to him. and he was oh so curious to find out. he still felt guilty, but that man had been sex deprived for so fucking long, he didn't even masturbate very often. he knew damn well he was about to commit a big mistake, maybe even starting something he was sure he couldn't finish, but he finally made up his mind.

he flips the small piece of cloth over, eyeing the soft-looking lining of the panties. he gulps, feeling his mouth water right away. god, what was he doing? what was right, what was wrong wasn't even important to him anymore. he just wanted to embrace his sickness.

there was a small stain on the lining, probably from you wearing it. just that sight alone was enough to get him off, and once again, he found himself having to face that tingling sensation inside his pants. he knew damn well what that meant and what was about to happen. but honestly, he couldn't give a single fuck anymore.

in one quick motion, he brought the fabric to his face, giving a long sniff while he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. that fucking scent of yours got him drunk the moment it filled his nostrils. so intense, so feminine and raw, daryl couldn't remember the last time he felt that type of pleasure, or if he had even felt anything like it before.

it made him needy like a horny teenager. he felt himself going back to puberty when all he could think about was jacking off day and night. and it was all your fucking fault.

daryl palmed himself through his denim pants, never taking your panties off his face not even for one second. the natural scent of your cunt was more than successful to make him hard as a rock, the sensation of being in his pants started to get uncomfortable as his dick grew bigger and bigger.

just palming himself wasn't enough.

he slowly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, inserting one of his hand in his briefs to catch his hard cock in it, freeing it for the first time in a while. his angry-red tip was literally pulsating while a clear and sticky liquid dropped down his length.

he wasn't able to hold a small grunt as he wrapped his calloused hand around his cock, the rough sensation of his fingers causing him to feel a jolt of pleasure so fucking delicious and guilty at the same time. the archer brought his hand to his mouth, catching some of his saliva to use as lube.

oh, how he wished you were there. he'd make sure you'd get his cock nice and wet with your spit so you could rub it up and down. and then, without warnings, he'd just shove it down your throat, forcing you to prove how much of a good girl you could be just for him.

and just for him. he wanted you all for his own. daryl never really liked to share, specially when it came to a girl like you, so princess like, so adorable looking. your plump lips looked so fucking perfect, and they would look even more wrapped around his big cock.

knowing how fragile you were, he knew you would definitely choke and gag on him, struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. he would whisper sweet encouragement words to you like “tha's it, tha's ma good girl”. he imagined how he would hold your head in place and keep a hand on your throat so he could feel his cock while he aggressively pumped it in and out, making you drool all over him. “just like tha', yeah, show daddy how fuckin' good ya are fer him”.

in his imagination, you would look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, with a mix of uncertainty and desire to make him proud. “am i doing this right, daddy?” he could almost hear your voice saying it whenever you would take him off his mouth to catch your breath for a moment, never disconnecting your small hand from his thick length.

he started pumping faster, squelching sounds were all that could be heard in that silent room, a proof of his degeneracy. the grunts and stifled moans were only getting harder and harder to hold back. he was sticking those panties to his face and sniffing on them like his life depended on it, like he was a desperate virgin.

a virgin. he wondered if you were one. you sure looked like it, your dad never let you out of sight for long enough for you to try something like that, he supposed from what he knew about your relationship. he imagined how would it feel like to be the one to pop your cherry for the first time.

oh, he would teach you so many things, everything he knows. he would guide you through it all along, teaching you where to touch, where to kiss, where to lick. he would make your virgin little cunny cum so many times it would get all puffy and red. he even wondered if he could make you squirt, stuffing you with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot over and over again until you were a quivering mess, squirting all over his skull tattoo. and yes, he would make you lick his fingers clean, your sweet little tongue dragging across them, and then, he would kneel down in front of you, not wanting to waste a single drop of your sweet release, attacking your sensitive clit and slit with his lips and tongue.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

he was so fucking eager to taste your slick, to revel in your salty taste. he imagined how fucking good the smell he was getting from your panties was from the actual source. he would lick it all, your lips, your slit, even your ass, but he would give special attention to your little clit, flicking his tongue on it, making it cum again just for him. he would never grow tired of it.

and when he felt you were finally ready for him, he would bend you over just like you used to do so absentmindedly. he would be gentle at first, but knowing himself, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for too long before absolutely railing the shit out of you, making you cry out and scream his name in pleasure and pain.

and when he flipped you over on your back, he would be able to see the bulge on your lower belly caused by his big cock inside you. just by imagining that he felt himself getting close to the edge. he would press his hand on it, making the little room inside your pussy even tighter. fuck, he imagined the sweet sounds you would make just for him.

all those dirty thoughts and your sweet scent from your panties were more than enough to make shivers run down his spine and his whole body tremble. he kept his eyes shut tight as he licked a stripe on the lining of your panties, trying to get some of your delicious taste. meanwhile, he hadn't stopped his hands not even for a second, harshly rubbing his cock up and down until it was too much.

in a strangled moan, his cock started shooting spurt after spurt of thick cum onto the floor, the dressing table and pretty much anything that was around. he couldn't remember the last time he had such an intense orgasm, the sensation making his mind completely empty except for your image.

his movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. he sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. he opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

you. standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

“u-uncle daryl?”

[PART TWO]

a/n: i know, i'm disgusting. i'm sorry. (just a quick reminder, english isn't my first language, so please excuse any grammar mistakes or awkward phrasing lmao, and tysm if you read it this far)

#daryl dixon #norman reedus #the walking dead #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd #daryl twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x yn #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl oneshot #norman reedus x reader #twd smut #daryl smut #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl drabbles #daryl dixon fanfics #daryl fluff #daryl angst #daryl x fem!reader #daryl dixon x yn #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x fem!reader

[fordaryl]

REMEMBER.

minors dni. 2.6k words. smut. daryl dixon x fem!reader. protective daryl. hint of size kink. strength kink.

It's easy to forget his strength when his touch is always so gentle. When you're safe, he lets you forget everything he's capable of; the reason you've both made it this long.

Safety lets you forget.

And then—when it inevitably all it all goes to shit again—you remember.

"Get in!" he calls through the wall of bodies separating you. He keeps the attention of most of them, but there's a few stumbling in your direction—too many for you to handle alone. "Now!" he shouts as he takes another growling walker down.

It goes against every instinct you have—to leave him to fight this alone. But this was his domain. This was when you did whatever the fuck he told you to do. It was how you survived.

You drag the door of the container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the walkers. It would be if it weren't for Daryl. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.

One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.

One is fine. You can handle one.

Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on Daryl. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.

You kick the walker you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.

Locking it is another story.

You have no hope of accomplishing that.

Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Daryl keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.

Then one gets shot down. Daryl, is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Walkers you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.

They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Daryl anymore. He's either dead or hiding.

Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.

You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.

“What the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!”

Any second now... any second they'd find Daryl and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.

"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.

You hold your breath.

"Well check it out then!" another demands.

Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.

You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the walkers are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Daryl would be watching... waiting. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.

"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of your sights, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking."

You know what'll happened when they find you. It's the same thing each time. You're prey to people like these—something to hunt in a world without consequences for that kind of thing.

Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.

"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage—vulnerable. Not a threat. "I'm—I'm unarmed."

Then a bright light blinds you.

"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims. Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"

There it was. Little. Thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Daryl more time.

"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.

You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Daryl was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something.

You just had to stay alive.

"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.

You get muffled laughter in response. Guards down. Distracted.

"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."

They're flash lights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.

Five. You count five. If you kill two...

"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's younger, a little less distracted.

The rest ignore him. Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. They're hands send a wave of repulsion through your body as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their touch feels against your skin.

The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.

"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm says, clearly irritated and impatient.

"But—"

"Now."

His eyes narrow, but then he steps aside—his back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of walkers, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.

Then, only a few steps later—you're stopped. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."

You blink away the burn threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...

The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry walkers. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."

There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.

But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?

You were dying tonight if Daryl was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...

Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.

You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all.

The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.

Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.

You were nothing. Prey.

The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the head before he can get hands on his own weapon.

The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though, those moments with an enemy weapon pointed at your head always do.

But then Daryl is there, strangling the man with a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck you spot the bodies behind him.

He'd been waiting for you.

You watch him stand, hair hanging in his face and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.

Then his eyes are on you.

Then his hands.

Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky.

You nod.

"You did good," he says, that deep gravel back in his voice. "So good, sweetheart." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point to rest at your clavicle. "We gotta go," he says. "Stay close for me, yeah?"

—————

The first time after is always the same—after you're forced to remember. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legs. To the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.

His thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you.

"You like that sweetheart?" His voice is almost sweet as his lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. "Huh? You like that?"

You nod with a small whine, pressing your hips back into him—desperate.

He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entrance—a teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your slippery, spongy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.

"Fuck," he grunts. "You need me here? Huh? You all fuckin' empty?"

"Yeah," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."

His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the ground—cushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely, his warmth seeping into your skin from his calves to his hot breath on your neck.

"What do you need?" he asks. As if he doesn't know; as if he didn't always know.

"You."

"Hm?" he hums, sweet and coaxing. "How?"

You reach blindly to find his wrist, gripping it firmly. "Hold me tight," you gasp between jagged breaths. "Please... Please."

His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas.

Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he fucking knows.

He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waist—secure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on you; like he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.

Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. It's temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he'd buried himself deep; once his cock was guided safely into your throbbing cunt.

You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.

Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats. He mumbles this way as he teases; as he plays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink of desperate sobs as he guides his cockhead over your slippery, throbbing cunt... over and over.... and over...

Saying he liked you needy was an understatement.

Then, eventually, he slips inside. Just the tip.. and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.

This is when he gives you a hint of his strength. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his strong arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.

He keeps you there, just with a taste of that fullness—a taste of having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he says, simple and a little croaky.

You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily—his lips chasing yours as you attempt to catch your breath.

"Daryl," you gasp eventually. "Now. Please."

His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck.

Then he pulls you down to meet his cock, to fuck himself deep. It's hard, exactly like you need it—exactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his neck weakly as he keeps you there, stuffed full—the thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.

Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voice—like he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.

You nod weakly in response.

His fingers press into your skin moments before he's moving, fucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his messy thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.

He's got you.

His breathing is quickly transformed into uneven pants as he attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... aren't you, baby? Hm?"

One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better grip—or just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hard—never hurting.

"My girl," he grunts. "My needy little girl."

It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips and tugs you down to meet him as he uses you, each thrust a slapping of skin and punching a helpless sound from your lungs.

Strength. Everything you've been forced to remember.

"Daryl," you gasp. "Daryl, fill me. Please."

His fingers dig a little more into your skin, his hair falling over his eyes. Then his lips part, a grunt... a broken, "Fuck."

He falls over you as he floods you, his cock twitching and pumping you full—just like you asked. But even then, even as he loses himself, he catches his fall—arms landing either side of your head to cage you in. "Got you," he gasps out between desperate lung fulls of air. "I got you."

#daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon x reader #x reader #daryl imagines #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n

[celtic-crossbow]

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Rick: Why is Y/N crying?

Carol: She’s drunk.

Rick: And?

Carol: She saw a picture of Daryl's wife.

Rick: But she’s Daryl's wife.

Carol: I know.

Rick: Where’s Daryl?

Carol: She kicked him out for cheating.

Carol, whispering: He went hunting.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #generated + original #daryl dixon incorrect quotes #daryl incorrect quotes #twd incorrect quotes #the walking dead incorrect quotes #rick grimes #carol peletier #daryl dixon humor #daryl humor #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead

[dixons-sunshine]

hi I just wanted to start with I really love your writing its just so good. I do have a request and if your not interested its okay it is angst but with a possible happy ending.

so its a daryl x reader where before the apocalypse r and daryl were together and they ended things right before everything went to shit and then when the group gets to Alexandria r is there and she has kid/s (maybe twins?? boy and girl??) so turns out r found out she was pregnant right when everything started happening so daryl didn't know and idk he like puts two and two together yk? and if you're okay with it can she be hispanic/ latin (maybe that can be one of the reasons they broke up bc yk merl is an ass to POC)

anyways sorry if that was a lot or didn't make sense

anyways have a good day/night much love <3

Two Plus Two Makes Four | Daryl Dixon x Hispanic!Fem!Reader

Summary: A week before the apocalypse, Daryl was forced to break up with you by Merle, leaving you heartbroken, but not alone—soon after he left, you found out you were pregnant. Now, two years later, you come face to face again with the man that broke your heart, and he finds out something shocking.

Genre: Angst, some fluff towards the end.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth.

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: Sorry this took so long to finish. I hope this is good enough to make up for the wait! Please note that I used Google translate for this, so the translations may be incorrect or awkward! Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes! (Translations will be at the bottom.)

—

“Kids?! Ya were pregnant and ya didn't fuckin' tell me?!” Daryl bellowed angrily, grabbing your arm to halt you from walking away from him.

You ripped your hand from his grip. “¡No me toques!” You spun around, furiously pointing a finger in your ex boyfriend's direction. “Don't you even dare put this on me, Dixon! You left. You walked out because you cared more about your brother's opinion than you did me! I'm sorry I wasn't gonna baby trap a man who didn't wanna be with me!”

“I deserved to know! I missed two years of their lives 'cause ya didn't tell me! I could of been there fer 'em, for ya, but ya chose to keep it from me!” Daryl exclaimed angrily, following you as you walked into your kitchen. “How could ya keep tha' from me?!”

“You chose to run to your brother the first chance you got! Four years down the drain in an instant for that racist asshole. I didn't owe you anything after that, maldito idiota!”

Daryl stopped in his tracks, instantly regretting starting up this particular argument. You spoke nothing but the truth. You didn't owe him anything. After all, it was him who walked out on you. He chose to let Merle's judgement get to him and influence his relationship. Hell, if it weren't for Merle, he would have proposed to you. He already had a ring picked out and everything back then, but he let Merle ruin everything. It was his own stupidity that cost him two years of his children's lives.

“Mama?”

At the sound of a small, timid voice coming from behind you, both you and Daryl turned and came face to face with your kids, your two year old twins. Your son, Luka, was nervously looking up at you and Daryl while your daughter, Camilla, was standing behind him, holding his hand.

Daryl was struck by the similarities both children shared with him. They both had his eyes, and his hair colour. They were spitting images of him. There was no doubt in his mind that these two children were his. He wasn't blind. He could see they were.

“Everything's fine, amores. I'm just having a conversation with Mr Dixon.”

Camilla stepped forward, her eyes lighting up with wonder. She looked up at Daryl, a smile spreading across her chubby cheeks. “Dixon?” she asked, pointing up at him. “Papa?”

Daryl was surprised. He looked up at you in confusion, silently asking for an explanation. You sent him a strained smile, forcing a relaxed look in front of your children.

“I always talk about you. They deserve to know who their father is. Well, who he was before he left me,” you explained, looking back down at Camilla and Luka.

“Papa?” Luka asked as he stepped forward, his blue eyes that reflected Daryl's sparkling with wonder. “Our papa?”

Daryl looked at you for permission, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. You nodded, silently giving him permission. He was their dad, after all, and he had just as much right to have a relationship with them as you, even if he did leave you. However, that was between him and you, and your children didn't deserve to be denied a relationship with their dad because of it.

The archer bent down, looking between Luka and Camilla as they stared at him in wonder. “Yeah, m'yer papa. M'sorry I wasn't here before, but m'here now. I ain't goin' nowhere.”

Daryl wasn't sure how much of his speech they understood, if they understood anything at all, but it didn't matter. The speech was mainly meant for you. It was to let you know that he wanted to be a part of their lives, and there was just about nothing that could stop him from that.

Camilla and Luka, as if having some sort of twin power, both simultaneously rushed forward and into his arms. Daryl wasted no time in hugging them back, somehow managing to pick them both up and rest them comfortably in his arms. It was relatively late, nearly eight at night and well past their bed times, so they rested their heads on his shoulders, making Daryl's heart swell with fondness. They didn't even know him, only having heard of him through the stories you told them, but they already trusted him. And even though he just found out he had kids, he would kill for them.

“We need to talk, sunshine. This ain't somethin' we can just sweep under the rug,” he told you, allowing you to take Luka from his arms to lighten the load. He adjusted his hold on Camilla, letting out a fond chuckle when he heard her yawn and nuzzle her face deeper into his shoulder.

You let out a sigh and nodded. “I know. But let's get these dormilones to bed first.”

Approximately half an hour later, the twins were tucked into bed and asleep. You and Daryl were back in the kitchen, both having a glass of wine in your hands—liquid courage for the conversation you were about to have.

“M'sorry fer leavin' ya,” Daryl broke the silence first, nervously sloshing the liquid around in his glass. “I dun' even know why I did. Merle's opinions should've never influenced our relationship. I loved ya. I still do. I regret leavin' ya more than anythin' else in my life.”

You inhaled deeply, willing the tears away. For two years you had wanted an explanation, and now you were finally getting one. However, hearing him admit that he still loved you, that you weren't stupid for still loving the man who broke your heart, was both relieving and hurtful.

“You hurt me, Daryl,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I get that Merle was your brother, but you should've never let him influence you like that. I had to go through everything alone. Do you know how hard it was being pregnant and fighting for my life against the dead out there? Do you know how terrified I was? I was lucky enough to find Alexandria a couple of days before I gave birth. If I didn't, I would've given birth out there with the walkers. I probably would've died. Camilla and Luka too.”

Daryl felt the guilt gnawing at his insides. He really hated himself at that moment. “M'sorry, sweetheart. I really fuckin' am. I promise I won't leave again. I dun' expect you to give me a second chance. God knows I dun' deserve it, but I promise I'll be here fer ya and the lil ones. I ain't ever gon' let ya down again, I promise.”

You gave him a small smile, reaching over to take his hand in yours. You rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, something you always did whenever the two of you had a serious talk. “Give me some time, Daryl. I still love you, but I need some time to adjust to the idea of 'us' again. It's been just me and the twins for two years. As far as I knew before today, I thought I wouldn't see you ever again. Just focus on the kids for now, okay? They deserve to know their daddy.”

Daryl's lips twitched up into a smile, and he nodded. “I'll wait as long as ya need me to. I ain't ever gon' let anyone influence us ever again, I can assure ya of tha'. And I ain't ever gon' leave ya to raise 'em alone, never.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

¡No me toques!: Don't touch me!

Translations (May be incorrect! Please feel free to correct me if they are!):

maldito idiota!: fucking idiot!

amores: loves.

dormilones: sleepyheads.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐ #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

[starshipsofstarlord]

honey suckle

summary. daryl gets lost in eating his favourite meal between your legs

warnings. smut, oral (female reader receiving), fingering, squirting, swearing, pet names (babydoll, darlin’), some and implied aftercare

divider credits. @cafekitsune

It was one of those excruciatingly delicious nights when Daryl had returned home from a long run with Aaron, he was ravenous to be as close as possible to you, and so here he was, large hands splayed on your thighs as his head lay between your legs. His hair was tousled to a haphazard degree, the waved brunette locks splaying in every direction as your fingers sunk into their roots, tugging at the strands in your grip, which only egged him further on.

His face was practically buried in your centre, tongue sliding relentlessly through your folds and swirling with educated concentration around your throbbing clit. You were sure his cheeks were smothered in your aroused essence, however you couldn’t see as he didn’t lift his head once, caring not for breath, his only priority was to taste you for as long as you could handle it.

If he had all the options that rotated the planet at his hands, he would never let up, he would die a happy and breathless man from suffocating himself in your addictive cunt. But even then, after he was a corpse from being delirious to be drowned in your sweet juices, you would be angry at him, needing more from his chapped lips and sinful tongue. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The fall was enclosing at your dispense, your heightened pitch indicated so, as did the clenching of your walls that his tongue thrusted in and out of.

Each of his taste buds were consumed with your aroused honey, and even as you came, he lapped without hesitancy, cleaning up your wetness only to create more to flee from your slick entrance. Your mouth was agape in sensational and pure distress as you thrashed your legs around like a maniac, until you wrapped them around his head, feet locking at the back of his neck.

“Need one more from ya babydoll.” His gruff voice that carried the dry lustre from his smoking habits vibrated against your lower lips, causing you to release an elongated squeal. You weren’t entirely sure if you had one more in you, this felt like it had been going on for hours, and although you were never complain about such circumstances, your body was growing exhausted.

But you would do it for him; one more couldn’t hurt, so as he settled three fingers into your walls, your hips bucked at the intrusion. He’d only been using his tongue the entire time, although it seemed you were drenched enough for them to slide in without much effort, he held them still so that you could adjust to the full feeling, peppering languid and wide kisses against the heated skin of your thighs.

His kisses moved left, closer to your stuffed mound, as he began to rotate his fingers inside of you, twisting his wrist as your eyelashes involuntarily fluttered, and deep mewls of pleasure surpassed from your bitten lips. Until finally, his mouth transcended you to another planet, far beyond the reality that you had harshly adapted to, as his lips suckled around your clit, his fingers scissoring in and out of you.

You were hypnotised in the sensations that were floating from your head to your curling toes, you were starting to feel dizzy, a heavy feeling that left you practically unconscious, as you faded in and out of your surroundings. Even when you opened your eyes, straining them to do so, the bedroom was blurry to your sights, and you bit at the air, failing to warn Daryl of the pressure that was growing by the second.

“Ah fuck.” Daryl groaned as a gushing stream that you hadn’t been aware was on its route to escape from your aching cunt, the liquid bursting in Daryl’s direction and coating his face. However he didn’t let up, even as he removed his fingers, leaving your walls clenching from the empty feeling, as he stroked his tongue in long lines up and down your pussy. “Gotta clean yer up.” He muttered almost to himself, as he dared not waste a drop.

You just laid there, breathless and cross eyed even as he finally removed himself, leaning up to stroke your face. “Yer did real good darlin’, so fucking good for me.” The starving man spoke, licking his lips as he started down into your eyes. He reached down, grasping your hips that had invisibly restrained themselves against the bed, as he picked you up, treating you like porcelain as he carried you in his big arms to the shower. He turned the water on, grasping a cotton rag from the side as he sturdied your weight against his, your back facing his front as he began to clean you up whilst the water was warming up.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fic #daryl Dixon reader insert #norman reedus smut #norman reedus imagine #norman reedus x reader

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

please please please PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

#norman reedus #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus smut #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut

[thewalkingdilf]

daryl loves adding praise when he’s degrading you.

he’s always adding in a tinge of sweetness to every degrading name he calls you. it’s always things like “pretty whore,” “perfect slut”

he loves how it makes you whimper as a blush of embarrassment coats your cheeks, and how you always attempt to hide your face.

he won’t settle for that though. he’ll grab your hands and pin them down, holding them away from your face as he sinks his cock deep inside of you, and he’ll just continue to whisper filth in your ear as he encourages you for being such a good little fuck doll for him.

#daryl dixon #twd #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon drabble #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon blurb #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl #daryl dixion x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl smut #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you