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dirtydixonsgirl · 9 months

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Daryl gets flustered seeing y/n thong when she bends over and needs her now. Established relationship, jealousy, mostly gentle but sub reader, extra points for ass man Daryl. <3

Can you grab this for me?

A/N: love this idea❤️ thanks for requesting, love writing for you all!

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, yeah yeah yeah 18+

“Daryl!” You yell out, your voice echoing through the empty abandoned house.

You waited, arms reaching, standing on your tippy toes trying to reach a can of food in the cabinet of the house you and Daryl were searching. The counter was filled with trash and covered in dust leaving no room for you to be able to jump onto the counter in your usual manner in times like this.

“Daryl!” You call out once more, irritation lacing your tone this time.

You hear a thump from the upstairs before he comes flying down the steps to your rescue, fear suddenly coursing through him. He stops abruptly, watching you try to jump up to reach something in the cabniet, just hoping your finger tips would be able to touch it.

He couldn’t help but notice everytime you jumped your shirt rose up slightly, revealing the straps of a red thong, siting just above the hem of your jeans on your hips, his face instantly curling up into a smirk, your head snaps back to his, you were frustrated, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me or are you going to help me grab this?” You snap, wondering why a shit eating grin was covering his face.

Daryl snorts at your attitude. Suddenly feeling the blood from his cheeks rush to his lap at the thought of you bent over that counter in that very sexy red thong.

“Oh, I’ll help ya grab somethin’.” He smirks, slapping your ass and giving it a slight squeeze emitting a small yelp out of you.

“Daryl!” You swat at him.

He effortlessly reaches up grabbing the can, handing it to you. Your cheeks red at his actions. You mumble a small thank you suddenly feeling shy as you lean down, pulling your bag from beside the counter and putting the food in it.

Once again, in Daryls favor you flash him with your thong once more.

“How many times ya gonna flash me with these?” He asks, his fingers catching the string of them and letting it snap back against your skin. “You been wearin’ these all day?”

You try to stand up but his hands instantly push your back down, leaving you bent over in front of him. Your breathing hitches when a pair of warm hands catches your hips, touching the exposed skin from your shirt raising up.

“Y-yes.” You stutter suddenly feeling stupid, you didn’t even realize that you have most likely been flashing people all day,

The jealously was surging over Daryl. He kept thinking about everytime you bent over who was looking at you and who saw what was only his to see? The thought made him want to go home and beat every man at Alexandria bloody.

“M’ the only one who gets ta see this.” He rubs his hands down to your ass, smacking it again. “Ain’t that right?”

“Yes, Daryl.” You breathe. “All yours.”

Daryl knew exactly how to get you to fall apart in his hands, sometimes with a single touch. It was one of things you hated most about your relationship with him, how at anytime, anywhere, you were ready for him.

His fingertips softly ghosting your skin, he runs them over your sides to your stomach, unbuttoning your jeans.

“Daryl,” you stop him, grabbing his wrist. “What if someone sees? Rick and Michonne-“

“Don’t care.” He says unphased. “Need ya, so bad.”

You slowly let go of him with shaky hands, you shiver against his touch, revealing in it. Your eyes close as his hand dips into your jeans, his finger tips running up and down the already wet thinned cloth of your thong.

“Shit, Y/N.” He grunts. “Yer already so wet and I ain’t even done nothing to ya.”

You blush. “Always ready for you, Dar.”

You could feel his erection against your ass making you more needy. You try to wiggle onto to him but his hand stops you smacking you harshly, you whimper.

“Needy little slut ain’t ya?” He chuckles.

“I need you, please.” You pant.

Oh, he needed you more. He thought. Your clit was now throbbing, you were basically dripping, you knew by now your panties were drenched. You were aching for him in every way.

His finger dips inside your thongs, you gasp as his finger tip runs up and down your wet slit, easily moving. He’s teases your enterance making you groan in frustration.

“Don’t be a tease.” You breathe, voice hoarse and needy.

“Oh like how you been today?”

Your head falls in pleasure as he gives in, easing one thick finger inside you, stretching you out. He continuously hits your sweet spot deep inside you. Your hips buck back to him, causing him to add another finger, you moan. Your thighs start to shake as your body starts reaching your climax, not being able to hold yourself up much longer.

“Daryl, I-I’m-“ you moan, your walls convulsing around him. “Gonna cum.”

Daryl smirks, suddenly his hand come out of your pants, fingers covered in your arousal. You clench around nothing, still throbbing. Aggravation floods your body. Your body turns to face him quickly, pushing his shoulders back, he doesn’t even budge.

“What the fuck was that for?” You snap.

“Not coming unless it’s on my cock, pretty thing.” He says, pulling you back into him. “Only I can take care of ya pretty little pussy, remember that.”

Your anger fades away as his lips attack your neck, softy and gently. You quickly break the kiss to yank your pants off, he unbottons his quickly. His hands go underneath your thighs signaling you to jump which you do, he catches you with ease, backing you up against the closest wall.

Your throw your arms around his neck as he kisses your neck again, he grabs his erection putting it against your soaking wet entrance, his tip rubbing up and down your slit, you whimper, your grasp tightening on him.

“Ready?” He whispers and you nod.

He flexes his hips, his erection sliding into you, filling you up. He grunts as he bottoms out, you gasp, enjoying the feeling of him stretching you out as pleasure shoots across your body.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his rythym speeding up. “Miss ya tight little pussy so much.”

“Ah,” you moan, burying your face into his warm neck.

His hips continue to rock into you, pushing you harder up against the wall. The wet sounds filling the air. He felt amazing in you causing you to throw your head back against the wall.

“Dar,” you whimper. “You feel so g-good.”

“Yeah baby?” He says through clenched teeth.

Your legs wrap around him tighter, you could’ve sworn you felt him in your belly. His breathing labored, you clench around him, pulsing. Your hands twist in his hair causing him to groan in pleasure. You snap, your climax coating him as he releases inside you.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, breathing heavily into your neck. “Fucking hell.”

“That was,” you start, your breathing matching his. “That was amazing.”

He pulls out, leaving you empty, missing the feel of him. He sets you down and your legs wobble a bit and he catches you quickly, steadying you. You giggle as you hold onto his wrists.

“Can ya walk?” He grins, full of pride.

“What can I say, Dixon? It’s all your fault.” You smile.

You slip your pants back on, along with your thong, feeling the sweet stickiness from his climax dripping out of you, you groan, the sticky feeling between your thighs being too much.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re dripping out of me, literally.”

He laughs pulling you into him, sweetly kissing your lips and tapping your butt before releasing you.

“What can I say? It’s all your fault.”

#daryl dixon #norman reedus #daryl dixon imagine #twd #twd imagine #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon twd #rick grimes #daryl dixon x female reader #smut #daryl dixon x reader #norman reedus smut #smutty #daryldixon #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #twd smut

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twdxtrevor · 3 months

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That look just gets me EVERY time . .

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thewalkingdilf · 4 months

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his arms!! holy SHITTTTTT gimme

#pls choke me #normanreedus #norman reedus #twd #the walking dead #thewalkingdead #daryl dixon #daryldixon #twddaryl #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl

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darylsgarden · 10 months

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Daryl fucking you in matting press because he saw some guy in alexandria flirting with you, and you've got tears streaming down your cheeks, cum painted on your skin(especially your tits), Daryl pounding into you to prove who you belong to. But it's okay because he'll always clean you up and give you sweet lil kisses to make up for the bruising 😇

Fucking love this!!

"What was his name"

"I don'ttt..knoww..... Daryllll " you managed to stutter as he mercilessly rammed into you

This was your third round, he had already come on you face and tits , yet he continued at a relentless pace, you had never seen him this mad before.

His hand reached your throat, grasping it. His other hand pushed your thigh apart even more as he fucked you deeper and harder. Your cunt was getting sore but he was showing no signs of slowing down. Your tits were already sore and red from how he had twisted and pulled on your sensitive nips,so much that they were stinging in pain. Your hips had bruises from his fingers, where he had gripped you so hard while pounding into you. You were covered in hickies, your neck, your underboob, your thighs....everywhere.

"Well ya tell that bastard that I will fuckin cut his tongue out ,if he even tries talking to ya"

"Daryl you know that I only belong to you baby, all of me"with that you closed your legs around his waist, pulling him even more close "cum in me Daryl"

"I'm sorry , I was too harsh" he said planting soft kisses on your bruises

"Well I won't be able to walk today, but this is how I want it every day "

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon #the walking dead #norman reedus #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #daryldixon #norman reedus smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #mac red canyon #breeding toy

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 9 months

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have to touch myself to pretend you're there.

#lana del ray #burning desire #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x you #norman reedus #daryl dixon smut #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon blurb #daryl dixon headcanon #daryldixon

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darylsdelts · 3 months

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More Vincent Harris appreciation please! He’s so beautiful baby boy

#daryldixon #norman reedus #vincent Harris #the walking dead

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rite4fun · 9 months

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long hair, don’t care

rewatching twd series again and i’ve made it to the negan arc and i don’t think i’ll ever get over the “pee pee city” line 😭

with that said, enjoy some fluffy fluff 🤭

••

the lamp casted a yellow hue in the room, the only noise being the light sounds of your footsteps as you got ready for bed and the running water coming from the bathroom.

you’re just settling into bed, a large shirt covering your frame when the door opens and daryl is walking out, towel drying his hair before shaking it out messily.

you admire his glistening broad shoulders and the dip of his waist as he walks to the closet, disappearing for a few seconds before reappearing with just his briefs on. he makes his rounds, checking the door, the window and then the door again before standing near the end of the bed, stretching his arms out and up as he attempts to crack his back. he rolls his shoulders, wincing and grabbing one to massage the sting away.

you frown, lifting the blankets up as you crawl towards him, “come here”

he listens as he sits on the edge, back facing you as you settle onto your knees behind him before resting on your haunches, shuffling closer until his warm body was between your thighs. your fingers dance up his back before pressing down over his shoulders.

you listen to the soft grunts he lets out at your ministrations, rubbing out the tight spots of his body, knowing it will help him sleep better. his hair tickles at your fingers and your eyes take in the wet strands of the back of his head- thinking just how much he hair has grown as the ends are beginning to flip out.

“hairs getting long..” you say it offhandedly, a pure observation of your thoughts but his body tenses in your hands.

“i can get ‘t cut” his voice is timid, insecurity heavy in his tone which only confuses you more.

“i like it” your fingers ruffle the curly strands, your compliment brushed off as he scoffs, “what?” he only shakes his head before dropping it heavily, finding his lap to be more interesting as you scoot more to his side; hoping to get a clue on his change of mood by his facial expression but all you can see is more hair that had fallen into his face at his new position. you reach out, tucking it behind his ear, “what is it?”

he shrugs, a flush high on his cheeks in embarrassment as he purses his lips, opening his mouth before shutting it again; seemingly stuck in some internal battle of lying or telling you just what was on his mind. you wait patiently, hand rubbing soothingly over his back as you scoot closer to him and pressing a reassuring kiss to his arm. leaning away, you catch a glimpse of the soft smile he attempts to bite back before it’s gone and he is back to chewing on his lips.

you don’t bother pushing anymore, prepared for him to get up and finish getting ready for bed but then he takes a deep breath, “merle..” he shakes his head again, “he used ta make fun of me- would say i looked.. gay”

it’s takes you a second to think of a response, knowing that if you took too long, he’d read too much into it and shy away again at opening himself up to you, “hm.. you like it long?” instead of focusing on the negative- you decide to redirect, hoping he’d voice his honest opinion on the matter but all you get is another shrug, “well i think you look very sexy with long hair”

he finally looks to you, fully expecting you to be making a joke of him but you only smile softly with a hint of mischief, “stop”

“i do!” you defend yourself with a soft laugh as he dismisses your flirting. you lean closer to his face, hand going back into his locks to playfully tug at it, “can get a nice.. good.. grip when i want too, especially when you-“

“tha’s ‘nough” his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into him as you giggle into his chest.

“i wasn’t finished!” you squeal as he lifts your body into his arms, tossing you lightly back onto the bed before climbing over you; his heavy warm body pressing yours further into the mattress. his hair drapes like a curtain over both your faces and you reach up, twirling a piece along your finger, “i mean it. i like it long. short too.. whatever you want, i’ll still love you” the sentiment is sweet and daryl softens at it, “it might take time to get used too but if you wanted to shave your head-“

“alrigh’” he rolls his eyes, shoving his face into your neck and biting playfully at your collarbone; the tickling of his scruffy chin against your soft skin, sending you into a fit of giggles.

he smiles at the sound before pressing kisses along the area, gratitude filling him to his core at being so lucky to be with someone like you.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader fic #norman reedus #the walking dead #twd x reader #daryldixon #fluff #rite4fun

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virtualreader · 10 months

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tracking love

daryldixonxfem!reader

summary: Daryl is reluctant to admit his pretty much obvious feelings for you, so you decide it is time to give him a little push.

word count: 2,4k.

warnings: jealousy, past trauma, walkers, a bit of gore (what's to expect from a twd fanfic?), etc. (not proofread, yeah, again, sorry :/)

requested: by @matilda4eve, hope you like it, lovely!

As you ran your fingers over the rough skin and traced the shape of the marks on Daryl's back, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for him. You knew that those scars would always be a reminder to him of the pain and suffering he had endured during his childhood. The physical marks may have healed, but the emotional wounds they represented were still raw and painful.

Being able to see the most intimate part of him made you feel special as if he trusted you with a part of himself that he doesn't usually share with others. You knew that Daryl was not one to let other people stir his past memories, so his vulnerability with you made you feel even more honored.

You caught him pulling his shirt off his torso over his head. He didn't mean for you to discover what his clothes hid, but he had forgotten to close the door. It didn't bother him that you now knew the harshest fragments of his past, unearthing the wounds he had concealed for so long. In fact, you were the only one he didn't mind seeing him like this.

The day you met Daryl, a few months ago, you were not in the cheerful and beaming mood he usually finds you in whenever he spots you somewhere in Alexandria. Time had passed over your clothes, leaving them worn-out and mucky.

You knew better than to trust a stranger. You knew better than to go with a man you didn’t know to a place you couldn’t prove existent. He promised a safe place, food, clean clothes… damn, he even promised hot water, so your eagerness to survive took over your sensible judgment. If your parents were still walking between the living, they would surely be disappointed on you for accepting his proposal.

"Who did this to you?" you asked the man, gently approaching him as you returned to the present moment.

You sat on the bed beside him, close enough to feel his body heat but at an acceptable distance so as not to make him feel more vulnerable than he already was.

“Not everyone has a loving father,” his head down as he confessed, hair falling over his face. “It was Merle before he went away from home, and then…” his words faded in the air.

As he uttered those words, the message he was trying to convey became crystal clear. The unspoken implications behind his statement were evident and left no room for doubt. His body language, tone of voice, and choice of words all pointed to a deeper meaning that was waiting to be uncovered.

“Stop creeping up on her and go talk to her, Dixon,” Carol spoke, startling Daryl who had been staring at you for a while.

The archer let out a grunt in response. It was evident from the way he tightened his grip on the crossbow strap that he was deep in thought and going through a myriad of emotions.

"What's the point? I ain’t got nothing to tell her,” he said, his voice laced with frustration and self-doubt.

The scene in front of Daryl had recently become the norm. You stood at ease next to Spencer, whose jokes made you giggle foolishly. As you leaned in to fix Spencer's jacket, your fingers brushed against his chest while he ogled you.

Daryl felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him, but he couldn't quite understand why. After you placed the flower Spencer gave you in his shirt pocket, Daryl knew he had to do something, but he couldn’t find the courage to act.

He thought back to the times when he had stood by and watched as others took what he wanted. He remembered the time when Merle had stolen his last can of food, and he had silently accepted it because he couldn't bring himself to stand up for himself. He didn't want to make the same mistake again, but he didn't know how to go about it either.

"Morning, Daryl," you greeted your friend as you passed by him after saying goodbye to the son of the Alexandria leader.

Daryl hummed in response, nodding his head in greeting. He watched as you walked away, feeling a mix of emotions. He felt happy to have seen you, but at the same time, he was disappointed with himself for not being able to talk to you. He knew he had to do something soon before he lost the chance to be with you forever.

"God, you're a lost cause," Carol said as she walked away, leaving Daryl alone with his thoughts.

As you crouched down to examine the tracks on the muck, you couldn't help but feel the weight of the warm sun on your back. The sun's intensity was beautifully diminished by the swaying leaves of the trees above, creating a picturesque scene.

You and Daryl, your trusty guide, were trying to follow the trail left behind by an animal, most likely a deer, as Daryl stated the moment he saw the marks. The task at hand required your careful attention to detail, as you scrutinized every inch of the muddy ground before you, scanning for any sign of the animal's presence.

Even thought you were not lacking in food in Alexandria, fresh, newly hunted meat tasted way better than the canned pigswill you had survived on for months before the archer found you.

Daryl was known to be a solitary hunter, preferring to venture into the wilderness on his own. However, this time, he had extended an invitation for you to join him on his hunting excursion. It was an unexpected offer, especially since you weren't exactly the best hunter out there. But you had learned a thing or two from Daryl, and that was enough to convince him to take you along.

You had always been fascinated by Daryl's hunting skills. He seemed to have a natural instinct for tracking and had a keen eye for detail. You had watched him in action on several occasions, observing his every move and trying to learn as much as you could. It was evident that he enjoyed the solitude that came with hunting, but he had never turned down your requests to tag along.

As you made your way through the woods, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. The rustling leaves underfoot, the chirping birds overhead, and the fresh scent of nature all around you added to the thrill of the hunt. You felt a sense of gratitude for this opportunity to learn from Daryl and experience the wilderness in a way you never had before.

Despite your lack of experience, you felt confident under Daryl's guidance. He was patient with you, taking the time to explain the intricacies of tracking and spotting signs of animal activity. You were amazed by his ability to read the environment and anticipate the movements of the creatures around you.

This was not your first time hunting with Daryl, and each time you went out, you learned something new. You were grateful for his willingness to teach you and his patience with your mistakes. It was clear that he enjoyed sharing his knowledge with you, and that made the experience even more special.

"Ya see that?" Daryl asked, pointing to the ground where the deer had passed.

You looked down, trying to figure out what he was referring to. As you examined the tracks more closely, you noticed that they were becoming progressively closer to one another. It seemed as though the deer was moving slower, perhaps grazing on vegetation nearby. You both crouched down to get a better look and to study the tracks more closely. You began to notice other signs as well, such as broken twigs and trampled bushes, just as Daryl had thaught you, indicating that the deer had been in the area for some time.

Daryl whispered, "The damn beast's gotta be close, grazin’ somewhere near here."

You both continued to follow the tracks, scanning the surrounding area for any signs of the deer. The anticipation grew with each step as you both wondered if you were getting closer to your prey or if it had somehow eluded you.

As you were about to propose going back to Alexandria seeing as the trip seemed unavailing, you heard a rustling in the bushes nearby, causing you both to freeze in your tracks. You could feel your heart racing as you waited for the deer to reveal itself.

With lightning speed, Daryl raised his crossbow and aimed it in the direction of the sound. You held your breath, waiting for the shot to ring out. After a few moments of silence, Daryl lowered his weapon and turned to you with a subtle yet blissful smile on his face.

"We got 'em," he said, his voice a mix of excitement and pride.

You both made your way over to the bushes where the deer had been hiding. As you approached, you could see the animal's head peeking out from behind the leaves. Daryl approached the deer slowly, his crossbow still at the ready. With a quick and precise shot, he took down the animal, ending its life almost instantly.

“Watch out!” the archer’s hasty, blaring voice startled you.

You pivoted on your feet abruptly, your heart pounding with fear and concern. You felt a hard bump as you collided with a rotter, whose face was only a few centimeters away from yours. You could see the flaps of putrescent skin hanging off its face, and its teeth were bared in a menacing manner, as it chased after your un-decayed flesh. The sound of the walker's rasping breath and the stench of its decaying flesh filled your nostrils.

Daryl moved quickly, his hand flying to the roamer's head. With his other hand, he grabbed the roamer's neck and swiftly stabbed its skull with his hunting knife. The lifeless and putrid body collided with the ground straight away, and the sound of the impact reverberated through the dense woods.

In that moment, Daryl's hand shot out and gripped your biceps, pulling you along as he ran away from the swarm of walkers that were quickly closing in on your position. The frenzied sound of your yelling had caught their attention, drawing them towards you like moths to a flame. With your heart pounding in your chest, you had no choice but to run alongside Daryl, his steady grip on your arm providing a sense of reassurance in the midst of the chaos.

Once he considered that you were far enough away from the danger, he pushed both of you inside the void core of a broad chestnut oak. Not even once had you been this close to the archer, your bodies rubbing against each other as you struggled to fit within the hollow trunk. Although Daryl appeared relaxed, he was as uneasy as you were - what with the proximity of your bodies and the mildly oppressive atmosphere that had settled around you both since your friendship with Spencer began.

Daryl’s gaze, which had previously been analyzing your surrounding looking for any indicators of the walkers’ presence, drifted towards your face, slighty lowering his head to make eye contact. His hand remained on your upper arm, his rough yet delicate touch sending electricity sparks through your skin. Emboldened by your unexpected proximity, Daryl decided to voice the question that had lately been swirling in his mind.

“What’s with that Spencer guy?” Daryl asked, his eyes still fixed on you, a barely perceptive trace of disdain decorating his speech. “Ya’re always laughin’ with him and fixin’ his damn jacket.”

You raised an eyebrow at Daryl, a smirk playing on your lips. “Are you jealous, Dixon?”

“Nah,” Daryl huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “I ain’t jealous.”

“Sure seems like you are.”

He avoided your gaze, and the spark of courage he experienced that had seemed so convenient dissipated. The excessive amount of time you spend with Deanna’s son had a purpose, and the plan had successfully fulfilled your expectations, as it led to daryl’s emotions rising to the surface from the deep ocean of mysteries that flooded his mind.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You’re so blind, Daryl. Can’t you see it?”

“See what?” Daryl asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That you’re the one I want,” you said. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move.”

As you gazed into Daryl's eyes, your heart beat rapidly in your chest. The words had escaped your lips before you could even give them a second thought. But as soon as they were out, you knew that you meant every single one of them.

Daryl's eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, you were worried that you had overstepped your boundaries. But then, a flicker of hope crossed his face, and he leaned in closer to you. Your bodies were already pressed tightly together, but somehow, he managed to get even closer.

In that moment, it felt like time had slowed down, and the world around you two had faded away, leaving just the two of you standing there, lost in each other's eyes. You could feel his breath on your skin, and the warmth of his body as he leaned in even closer, making you feel safe and protected.

"Ya mean it?" he whispered, barely above a whisper, his eyes filled with hope and vulnerability.

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion. "I do. I've been waiting for you, Daryl. I knew you liked me for a long time, even before Carol snitched on you."

Daryl looked down, fidgeting with the crossbow strap. “I didn’t know...I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

You stepped closer, reaching out to tilt his chin up so that you could see his eyes. “You won't ruin anything, Daryl. Our friendship means the world to me, and I know we can make this work. Just tell me how you feel.”

Daryl took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. “I love ya, Y/N. I can't imagine my life without ya in it. Every time I see ya with Spencer, I get this weird feelin’ in mah chest, and I know ya can be with whoever ya want and that this feelin’ is unfounded and it makes no sense…”

“It makes perfect sense to me,” you smiled, embracing him tightly. “I love you too, Daryl.”

#twd #amc #the walking dead #twd x reader #twdxreader #daryldixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryldixonxreader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl fanfiction #thewalkingdead

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kilibaggins · 4 months

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Promise | Daryl Dixon

Daryl Dixon x Reader

A/N: I've loved daryl dixon since middle school and now i feel like i should try to write him! this was not requested but i really felt like writing for him so here i am.

Summary: Ever since things started slowing down at the prison, and more people started to join the group, Daryl started... Distancing himself from you. You've had enough.

my requests are very much open just so you know! go ahead and request something just read my rules first (its linked in pinned)

Word Count: 1100

The prison has been without incident for two weeks now. A couple weeks ago a fight broke out, and before that, it had been a case of theft… Things that remind you of the old world. Small things compared to some of the big ones you've experienced.

Things seem… Nice. People are starting to flourish, people are starting to grow. You've made new friends, new fellow survivors who you share your days with. It's comforting to know that after everything you have somewhere safe to be, even if only for now.

The only thing is that… Daryl never talks to you.

See, to many people this might be normal. He's Mr. Macho. He's the one that stays secluded and isolated and never talks unless he has to but… This is different. He's always been different with you. You've always been the one who tries your best to check on him, to care for him, even when he's pushing himself away.

Even back on Hershel's farm, when he kept his tent far away, you walked out there every day to check on him and keep him company. When Andrea accidentally shot him and he seemed to be on death's door you were the one to help him through that.

Once the farm got overrun, and you all started frantically trying to find a new place to be, you two had gotten even closer. He'd watch your back, and you'd try to watch his, it was as great as a new friendship could be in a world that has ended.

But after the prison got up and running and after things calmed down he started to… Disappear. When you'd go to find him for hunts he wouldn't be there, or he'd already be gone. When you'd try to do anything with him he'd practically push you into a different group.

You have to admit, it hurts. You thought things were going well, but all of a sudden he's completely cold-shouldering you.

It's been a long day, and in your frustration, you realize that all you want is the man you had once thought of as your best friend. Daryl. You huff and climb on the long stairs of the prison up to the back where Daryl put his cell. Pretty much as far away from everyone as possible, in true Daryl fashion.

“Hey…” You say, leaning against the entranceway to the cell. The cell door is only half closed and you see he's cleaning his bow.

“What?” He asks, instead of saying hello back. You roll your eyes.

“Just wanted to talk for a minute.” You say, trying to smile at him.

“Then talk.” He says, his voice frustrated. You feel the emotion pool up in your chest.

“I just- How have you been? We haven't talked much lately, but-”

“Ya got anything important to say or are ya just here to bug me?” Daryl asks, finally looking up at you. You tear up and turn away, taking a few steps away from the cell.

“Whatever…” You say. Before you make it to the stairs though you pause. You turn around and march to the door. “You know you don't have to be such a jerk.”

“'Scuse me?” Daryl asks, his eyes piercing as he puts down his crossbow.

“You heard me. What is your problem?” You ask, angry. You're done having him ignore you like this. “All I want to do is talk to my best friend for more than ten minutes-”

“Best friend? Please, ya can't be serious.” Daryl snaps. He stands up and throws his arms out. “I ain't yer best friend. Go talk to someone else.”

“What happened to us being close, huh? You used to like being around me.” You say, your voice raising.

“I did like bein’ around ya. But things change.” Daryl says, turning around and picking up his jacket. He always has to be fidgeting with something.

“Why?” You ask, your voice breaking a bit. You cough and shake your head. “Why do things have to change? What did I do wrong?”

“Ya didn't do nothing. Just… Just go be with someone else. I got issues I gotta take care of.” He says. He isn't looking at you, head looking down at the small patch on his jacket that you added.

“… I don't want to be with someone else.” You say.

“Well, ya should!” Daryl suddenly yells. “Go be with someone actually worth somethin’.”

Your heart breaks. You finally step into his cell and walk up to him. He's purposefully avoiding eye contact with you and you reach out and touch his arm. He moves away only for a second before letting you touch him.

“Daryl… You're my best friend. I'm gonna be honest, you're probably more than that, you mean the world to me. You're who I want to be around… Don't tell me you've been pushing me away because of that.”

Daryl doesn't say anything and frowns. He looks at you before looking back down.

“Don't want ya findin' out ya wasted yer time on me,” Daryl says. You reach up and gently tuck his hair behind his ear. He flinches slightly and you frown.

“Let me make that choice, okay?” You say gently.

“But-”

“Let me make my own choices. I want to be around you. I want to talk to you and hang out with you. You're it for me, whether you want it to be romantic or platonic, I want you in my life.” You say. You reach down and straighten his shirt. “Everyone else here doesn't get what we've been through. You do. Do you want me around?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then you’re stuck with me.” You say, smiling at him.

"M'sorry." He says, as he tries to look away to hide his smile but you catch it anyways.

“There you are.” You say, grinning.

“Stop.” He mumbles, trying to turn away again, his smile getting bigger. You grab his hands turn him back to you and smile widely at him. You love his smile. “Said stop, punk.”

You laugh and lean up to kiss his cheek. You can feel how warm it is.

“Don’t leave me, okay?” You ask, looking up at him. Your smile is gone now, and he can tell you’re serious. “Don’t push me away. Please.”

“A’right. Promise.” He says, shrugging, but he still has that genuine look in his eyes.

“Pinky promise?” You ask, holding out your pinky. He rolls his eyes.

“What're ya, six?”

“Shut up and pinky promise me, Dixon.” You say, laughing. He scoffs and his pinky interlocks with yours.

“Promise.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead imagine #my fanfic #twd #thewalkingdead #daryldixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n

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haruhey · 4 months

Text

Wish I Never Met You

check out my masterlist!

Word count: 4k

Fluff | Angst | Thank you @weretheones and @normanplusdaryl for betaing <3

You’re part of Daryl’s past, but you could also be his future.

A bad day leads the two of you to each other.

Whoever said it’s better to love and lose Never loved and lost you

Daryl barely made it through sophomore year.

In all honesty, he was impressed he even got to junior year. When Merle left at the tail end of spring, he - in all of his younger brother naïveté - thought he would come back before the semester ended, taking him from the dump they called a house and from that asshole they had the unfortunate pleasure of calling their old man.

But July came and went, then August, and by the time the new school year rolled around, Daryl stopped waiting for him - just shouldered his backpack and went to school because where the fuck else was he supposed to go?

He gave the whole school thing two weeks. It was enough time to mark off attendance - to lay low before he traded his backpack for his crossbow and started hunting for that weird butcher shop three blocks down to make some money - and he had intended on following it.

Intended, being the right word, because the plan went to shit the second Mr. American History started pairing people up for those dumb, mandatory, biweekly collaborative projects.

Intended, because it just had to be you he was paired with, didn't it? His stupid classroom crush he tried so hard to stop thinking about?

He remembers seeing you for the first time in some math class in sophomore year, and he’d, in his hormone-ruled, bored-out-of-his-mind teenage brain, spent the better half of the period just looking at you. He never worked up the courage to say anything about it to anyone, but you were the prettiest thing he’d seen in his 16 years on Earth, and he hated the way you made his hands all clammy.

Even years later, he looks back on the months he spent being your friend, and he still feels that crushingly familiar clench of his chest.

Maybe it wormed its way almost permanently into him those weeks he first sat next to you in American History. It was a compulory course and both you and he hated it. The teacher - Durand, but Daryl took to calling him Dickhead and Deranged just to see which would make you roll your eyes the hardest - was a notorious douchebag, round glasses over a nose that was entirely too big to stay on his face and three strands of gray hair that seemed to be holding onto his head by spite alone.

He never seemed to take Daryl seriously, even though Daryl knew more than double the amount of history you did. You could pick his brain for hours about the pirates and the Sumerians and the Cherokee and their legends, and he’d let you, despite the glare that marked over his face for anyone else.

In exchange, you let him pick your brain, too. Over the piece of apple pie the two of you would share on the rare occasion you’d both scraped together enough to figure it would be worth buying, he asked about your future. He tried picturing himself with you through it all despite knowing there was nothing for him outside of this shithole town, and he listened to you talk.

He could listen to you talk for hours.

You had big dreams, considering you came from the same place he did, but he had faith you could do it. He knew you could, and even looped his pinky with yours, your thumb pressed up against his while he promised to make it to graduation. He had to watch you toss your cap and flip the bird at 4 years of hell, didn’t he?

But then winter came, and with the Christmas break rounding the corner, Merle came back too, peeling into the dirt road in front of the Dixon dump and taking Daryl along with him. You remember coming back when the second semester started, the same room that had once been used for History now a Government class, and you had hoped to suffer through it together.

You made it through one school week until you’d started asking around.

Nobody got themselves involved with the Dixons - with their surly tempers and their permanent scowls, but you’d gotten into the habit of ignoring those words when you were with Daryl - so when no answers turned up, you weren’t really surprised.

You figured he must have finally gotten his out from his old man.

It was only at graduation that you’d found out what happened to him, overhearing one of the principals talking about how both of Will Dixon’s sons had run away from home and how he’d drunkenly bragged about finally beating sense into them, and, though you knew it was selfish, as the ceremony ticked on, you still hoped Daryl would come back in time to watch your cap toss.

He never did.

When he finally did come back to Georgia, it was a little over a full year later. The old lady that ran the diner the two of you hung around after school had told him that you got a scholarship offer in May - some bigshot school out west - and that you’d packed your bags and left in August.

You weren’t set to come back until the year ended in April, and he wasn’t planning on staying.

He wasn’t planning on making staying anywhere a habit, and, in the blink of an eye, twenty years passed.

A second blink and the world fell.

Everything changed so quickly that it truly did feel like an instant as minuscule as a blink - the dinosaurs had the meteor, and life before them had the ice age - and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a breath before a new age flooded in.

It seems like everything he thought about was about the future. Some of it he would have considered trivial before - when the next meal would come, when the next time he’s going to fill his canteen is and where the next source of freshwater is - but, in this blip of time, he hesitates to call it that.

Sometimes, when he went out on his bike or shouldered his crossbow and slipped his knives into his holsters, he thought about how Li’l Asskicker and Carl would grow up - how they would never really get to be kids in the same way Rick probably wanted them to be - and almost nothing he did felt trivial anymore.

It scared him, he guesses - how much he cared about those kids and how much everyone else did, too.

He wished someone cared about him like that when he was younger.

It was good, though, this pressure. Daryl was never really one to half-ass anything in the first place, but with the intake of Woodbury and the Council’s decision to start bringing people in, there was a new drive to care. It rippled through the prison, and he liked it, being a part of something bigger than himself.

He felt like someone new.

Someone that mattered - that did good - instead of being some asshole with a bigger asshole for a brother.

At least, he did until he saw you.

Two weeks after taking in the people of Woodbury - with one week spent out recruiting and another spent in the infirmary because they’d met some less than friendly people who definitely did not fit the recruitment criteria - he saw you from around the corner, an all too familiar face helping Carol with meal prep in the courtyard.

He didn’t eat lunch that day, and to say he avoided you was an understatement.

There was something about you that brought back feelings he would have rather left in the past. You reminded him of when he was a teenager, stuck in his shitty hometown with his piece of shit old man and no way out. But at the same time, you reminded him of those nights spent down at the creek, skipping stones and staring at the stars, that comforting lack of second-guessing because he knew he was, for the first time in his life, in the company of someone who actually wanted to spend time with him.

You reminded him of that diner with the warm apple pie, and he never could forget the first time his heart ever beat against his ribs like it was too big for his chest.

But, most of all, you reminded him of first love and his broken promise - of a future he could never have had.

Daryl hated it, being confronted with his past like that.

So yeah, maybe he did revert back to his old ways of hiding and just trying not to think about his problems, and yeah, maybe he did take one too many runs back to back so he wouldn’t have to keep fighting the urge to look for you despite simultaneously being scared shitless at the thought of talking to you, but it was successful in staying away from you, and that’s all he cared about.

Or, well, he thought it was.

Because, though it’s been nearly two decades since you’d thought about high school - with it long since becoming college, and college into adulthood - it’s crossed your mind more than you’d liked to admit lately. It’s an odd feeling, an ill-fitting nostalgia creeping through the holes of your blanket-covered cell bars, but it was oddly comforting. You never thought you’d ever think of that place as comforting, but maybe it wasn’t high school that you found yourself chasing in the dead of night.

It was him.

Daryl never really knew how popular he was - here, and back then, when those minutes before and after gym class divulged into shushed remarks about his looks and half-serious confessions of crushes muttered to the secrecy of the changeroom’s four walls - but you did. You were always on the other side of it, silent in your agreement.

Woodbury - or, well, ex-Woodbury - was no different.

He’s a far cry from that scrawny little kid you split your lunch with all those years ago, but there's still the linger of boyish handsomeness to him that made your cheeks heat when you thought about him too long. There was no mistaking him for anyone else, but that subdued, ultraviolet warmth you’d grown familiar with was gone from his eyes.

He’s not seventeen anymore, flipping his uncut hair from his face as he taught you how to skip stones and catch fireflies, but you wanted to talk to him all the same. There’s not much left from the old world - let alone much that you could have considered good, or wanted to remember - but he’s one of the few things you’d cared enough about to keep safe from the pulling tide that faded your memories.

He made that shitty town more bearable, even if it was for those few months. Gritting your teeth and enduring had become tiring until he’d grimaced at that first History Inquiry project and made you laugh with the annoyed upturn of his lip.

You’d planned on thanking him at graduation, but he’d left months before then.

You’d planned on a lot of things to be frank, but there’s no reason to linger in the past when now is a shell of what then was.

There’s even less of a reason when now feels heavier than then ever was.

Today would have marked ten days without incident, a first foray into the monumental double digits until the sun had set behind the return of the run crew’s RV and Beth was forced to flip the number back to zero.

It’s been four hours since they came back - a quarter of the group gone from the unfriendlies they’d met, another dealing with the aftermaths of the encounter and one more made up from those the crew’s recruited - and it’s the first time in those four hours that you’ve left the dingy wing of the infirmary.

You didn’t hate it in there. Far from it, actually, with Hershel and the others being half-decent company and seeing the work you did benefiting people, but the infirmary, especially on days when the crews rounded back, meant the stinging smell of blood and death lingered no matter how much you scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. It stuck to every crevice on your body, and it permeated. Guilted you for not trying hard enough and not knowing enough.

On days like this, everywhere you went seemed too small and too unforgiving, and you’re not sure if you can stand tossing and turning in your bunk. The night sky is a friendlier sight than your ceiling, and the view from the abandoned watchtower is a hell of a lot better than the tiny, barred-up window at the corner of your cell.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe sleep will steal you for a couple of hours before the sun comes up. At least enough to make it through the next day.

You have faith it will - you can already feel the first wave of exhaustion pull at your bones.

Taking a breath, you press your hands into your pockets after pushing the door to the Prison open and slipping out. Autumn is beginning to seep through the cracks of summer and the nights are starting to get colder, but your jacket should be enough until you climb up and find sanctuary in the sleeping bag you’d left there three days ago.

It doesn’t take long to reach the door - if you jig the knob to the right before twisting and skip the third step from the top, the trek upwards is close to silent - but when you open it, the creak yields, at first, an expletive before the annoyed voice tears through the quiet.

“I already told ya I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout-”

The volume of him makes you take a step back, the sound of a man making your body lock up for just a second before you recognize the mess of hair atop his head and the wings stitched on the back of his vest, and you make quick work getting to him, crossing the platform in a single stride.

“Daryl?”

And he’s quick to realize the person speaking to him isn’t Carol like he’d thought. Though he really really really hopes it’s not you, the familiarity of your voice leaves little room for speculation, even before he turns his head and - for the first time in a long time - really, really looks at you.

“Oh.”

His heart beats in his ears and locks his throat before he can muster up anything else to say, and for a second, you wonder if you should introduce yourself to him.

“Sorry, I, uh, wasn’t expectin’ no one to be here.”

But the knowing upturn of his eyebrows - his apology, and the way he scoots himself over to make room for you the same way he did in those library reading nooks - tells you you don’t need to, and your shoes slide against the concrete as you drop down to a sit.

He remembers you, too, the sweat of his hands too obvious with the fact, even though he wishes he didn’t.

He wishes there wasn’t a familiarity in the way you sidle your body against his, swinging your legs underneath the railing and over the balcony, and he wishes he couldn’t feel the heat coming off of you.

He wishes it didn’t wrap him up like the warm rays of sun, and he fights down a smile at the fact that you always were so bright. He wishes he didn’t remember you like that - glossed over in a blinding, yellow hue.

Daryl wishes he never remembered you like sunshine - he wishes he didn’t still.

Picking up the glass next to him - just to occupy himself and bide the time until his nervousness hopefully washes away into general apathy - he takes a sip before setting it down and taking a pull of the cigarette in his other hand.

The smoke is slow to fill his lungs, but he welcomes it anyways, holding it there as the nicotine-drawn buzz settles in his brain, and then he breathes it out, angling his head up and away from you.

You never liked it, the Malboros he’d swiped from his old man that he’d keep tucked in the smallest pocket of his worn-down backpack, but you’d told him one night, not unlike the one you’re both trying to find solace in right now, that you were scared of what his father might do if he found out.

Then you slipped in the obviousness of his health, just to break the tension of vulnerability, but it hit Daryl like a truck, the fact that he’d never had someone think about him like that before - like they actually cared.

“Heard your brain cells can rot if you do that.”

He raises an eyebrow at you only to be met with a small smile playing at your lips and the slightest bit of a sparkle in your eye, and the taste still lingering on his tongue reminds him of what he’s been doing. The glass is half full with the room-temperature whiskey he’d tried to make himself feel better with after stitching up his own wounds, and there’s ash from his smoking gathered beside one of the railing's poles, and despite the knowing you’re probably right, he sighs, waving your concern away.

“Ain’t worried. Don’t got a lotta them anyways.”

The cigarette between his fingers is lit still, and he takes another drag before the grayed end of it crumbles to the floor, fighting the upward tug of his cheeks at the sound of your amused huff and your quick response.

“That’s why you gotta take care of the ones you still have, Daryl.”

Scoffing, he tilts the edge of the glass towards you, holding it out for you until you take it from him, and he tries not to think about how the tips of his fingers burn when they brush up against yours. It’s not as sweet, the innocence of a teenage crush long since faded into the dull pang of expired love and loss, but it rushes through him all the same.

He would have offered you a cigarette, too, but you’ve never been one to pick up habits that bad.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you then, the sky offering a serenity the two of you are less than strangers to, and you wince from the liquor when you finally take a sip. It’s nothing like the moonshine he’d smuggled from his dad’s stash - it went down a hell of a lot smoother than you remember that shit going - but your tolerance has taken a nosedive since weekends unwinding and inter-departmental parties had ended.

Besides, the only places you could get alcohol back in Woodbury were way above your paygrade.

Placing the cup back onto the concrete, you steal a glance at Daryl, spending just a second studying the curve of his nose and the jut of his cheekbone. He’s more handsome than he’s ever been, and you can feel the heat rush up your neck before you blink away the thought.

Get a hold of yourself.

But you can’t, not when he’s so close, and you’re not sure if it’s wholly unselfish, what makes you drop your eyes down from his face, but you do, and you realize why he was so on edge when he heard the door open.

He’s fidgeting. Ever since he put out his cigarette, he’s restless and can’t quite figure out what to do with his hands in the same way he was when you’d asked him why he never wanted to go home back in the school library, and it sends you back, too, a familiar pit growing in your stomach. It’s like he’s that kid again, scared of telling you - or, well, people - things that hurt because his stupid brother and dad drilled into him that he’s less of a man for even feeling hurt in the first place, and it’s equal parts infuriating and concerning.

You can tell that the gears are turning in your head as you try to piece him together; a run crew came back just today, and you haven't seen him in a little while. It doesn’t take a genius to make the connection - especially with everyone’s propensity to talk about how Daryl brought them in - and though you might regret it, you decide to pry.

Not pry, just ask.

Conversation used to flow so easily between the two of you. Were you naïve to hope it would again?

“Bad day?”

It’s small, your voice, teetering in the air with its uncertainty, but Daryl doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he glances down at the space between you, wrapping his fingers around the highball before meeting your gaze, and he bites the inside of his cheek, weighing the option of telling you or not.

“Jus’ tired is all.”

And though he hesitates those first few words, your eyes are so kind - so genuinely caring - that he can’t stop himself from saying more.

That was what he was scared of.

Why hasn’t he let you go?

“Sick’a fuckin’ losin’ people.”

The frustration when he speaks is palpable, and you’re not sure if it’s bravery or stupidity that makes you move - maybe it’s both, culminating in your own desire that someone would finally see through your crippling bravado and offer you a hug or something - but your hand snakes out to grab his before you even think, shaking it slightly in the strength of your squeeze.

Then he freezes, and for a second, you think you must have overstepped - that he’s going to push you away and yell at you and leave - but he doesn’t. He just takes a breath, the heft of it rising his shoulders then dropping it as he squeezes your hand back harder, a silent thank you in the press of his fingers against yours.

But still, he lets go, afraid the warmth in his chest might make him do something he regrets, and you chew at the dried skin of your lip, thinking about the right thing to say.

Fuck, you could never navigate things like this - it got better as you got older, sure, but words always seemed to fall short when it came to you and him - and when you finally settle on something, half of you wonders if it was just because you thought it better than nothing.

“I feel you.”

Because what else are you supposed to say? That it’s going to be alright and that he shouldn’t blame himself because it's so blatant he is? It’s thin ice you’re walking on, the fear of sounding patronizing drowning out the spark of hope you want to light him with, because you remember the man he was. He’s never had anyone fighting in his corner, and you’re not callow enough to think he thinks of you as something - someone - different.

But he does. He does think of you as someone different, and he wants to say more, but he doesn't know where he stands with you, or with himself. If he says what he’s thinking - that he feels like it is his fault and that he’s not sure if he could ever stop feeling like that. That he’s scared shitless and like it’s some big joke that people actually look up to him for things - wouldn’t that make it feel too real?

So he doesn’t. He just tips the lip of the glass against his and takes another sip to make sure his mouth is occupied, staring down at the bottom ridge of it until you speak again, and he’s helpless to do anything but look at you.

“At least it’s beautiful out tonight.”

He’s sent back to twenty years ago then - the scrawny redneck you’d somehow deemed good enough to be your friend forcing his old habits back to the him of the present - and he can’t help the squeaked little noise of a response. Words have always been hard for him, too. They’re hard for him to think of and even harder for him to form, and it’s made worse by the fact it’s almost like he’s back at 16, convinced that you’re too pretty to talk to.

“Yeah.”

And though you hear his hum of agreement, he never looks away from you, admiring the curve of your familiar smile and the rise of your cheekbones.

The lurch of his heart comes back then - the same beat against his ribs that he hated all those decades ago - and it’s stark then, the realization you’ve never really left him.

“Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it.”

Pressing his lip to the edge of the glass once more, he welcomes the burn of whiskey when you smile at the moonlit horizon, and he watches as you lean your chin against your arms.

You’re beautiful - more beautiful than all the colours in the star-speckled sky - and he could stare for hours.

#haruwrites #daryldixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon angst #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead oneshot #twd

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dirtydixonsgirl · 10 months

Text

Stay still

A/N: anything daryl makes me horny tbh should i say more? if you guys have suggestions lmk! you guys are sooo appreciated btw 🫶🏻

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, fingering, grinding, etc. 18+

You couldnt sleep. Daryl was well aware of that. Fighting against unwanted thoughts of worry and stress about the winter blizzard right outside your doors was causing your mind to race late at night. Your group had found a cabin way out in the woods to sleep at for the next coming days hoping the blizzard would blow over, it was your first night and honestly the weather was getting worse by the minute. You and Daryl shared a sleeping bag, he insisted worrying about the fact that there was other men near that he felt was trying to get into his best friends sleeping bag for other reasons besides the cold. You hesitantly agreed, worrying about the awkwardness that would come with sleeping with Daryl.

The fire crackling pulled you out of thoughts, staring into the red and orange flames that flickered from the fire place. It was keeping the place decently warm, the wind howling in the windows. Daryl had gotten too hot, losing his shirt and comfortably adjusting himself in the sleeping bag with his back against yours, as much as he wanted to turn over and wrap his big arms around you and keep you nice and warm, he opted against it. He didn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. His body was resting against yours, helping him sleep peacefully for the first time in a very long time, but when his body shifted from his back against yours to his chest against your back you froze.

The sleeping bag was very tight around both of, keeping you well restricted against each other. Your heart fluttered at the soft sounds of his breath in your ear, his body was relaxed, his body heat radiating off of him while his legs were losely tangled with your legs. You knew very well he wasn’t aware of how closely he was pushed up against you due to his sleep, but selfishly you enjoyed the contact. You knew this was the first time you’ve heard Daryl sleep so soundly since you’ve met him, so you were sure not to wake him up.

Once you reassured yourself he was sleep, your mind sunk back into your thoughts again. The cabin was dark besides the fire lighting up a few areas, the sounds of people breathing, all spaced out. The wind was louder then normal, startling you every so often. You had wished at this point Daryl was awake, he seemed to keep you grounded in most situations like this.

“Y/N,” Daryl spoke in a hushed tone, grunting. “Stop squirmin’.”

You flushed. “Sorry.”

Your body stopped instantly, your heart race increasing. You hadn’t realized. His body shifted slightly and soft breathing in your ear notified he was now sleeping again. Your body felt trapped against his, he was still too unconscious to realize how he was laying against you.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was ever going to pass, even if it did, the roads would be blocked off. The thought of going back out in the ice chattering cold and almost getting frost bit again made you internally groan.

“Y/N,” Daryl groaned in your ear once more. “Stop movin.”

That’s when you felt it. Him. His bulge pressed up against your ass. Your cheeks heated up instantly spreading throughout your body. That’s normal right? All guys do that when they’re sleeping? Although it doesn’t help when someone is pressed up against them squirming. You weren’t sure if Daryl was aware his little issue but the fact that it was pressing up against you was hard for you to ignore, your thighs pressed together, and the sleeping bag suddenly became too hot.

He was enjoying your movements for a while, but the aching feeling in his boxers were too much to handle, knocking him in and out of consciousness every so often.

“Daryl,” you whispered. No response. “Daryl?”

You could feel his breathing quicken alerting you that was now awake.

“Y/N? Wha’s wrong? Somethin-“

He felt it.

“Fuck,” he groaned pulling his body from yours, you couldn’t help but feel empty at the feeling of him pulling away, “y/n, I’m so sorry, i-“

“Daryl it’s okay.” You reassure him quietly. “It happens to all men when they’re sleeping sometimes.”

The foreign feeling was already lightening inside you, you flushed at the fact that your best friend was making you feel this way, although you’ve found him attractive for a long time you had never felt sexually for him, but now it was hitting you all at once. The thought of him inside you was making your breathing quicken, your walls suddenly clenching around nothing as the throbbing feeling between your legs grew.

Daryl on the other hand, he always thought about you in a loving way and a way that he could take you over his motorcycle and have you sputtering incoherent words after he was done with you. All of his wet dreams and fantasy’s coming out to play. He couldn’t help the embarrassment he felt knowing you felt him poking you all because you couldn’t lay still, his aching tent already missing the friction you were proving him innocently without noticing.

“Ya alright’?” He drawls, noticing your breathing change.

You looked up at him, the dark outline of his concerned eyes looking into yours. You blinked at him. You couldn’t tell him how bad you were starting to want him in every way while there was people amongst you sleeping. His hot breath close enough to your lips, you almost wanted to whimper, it was pathetic, you have never had a man so close to you, making you feel this way.

You press your lips against his in a haste, without thinking catching him by total surprise. Your hands move their way up into his hair, pulling him closer and twisting it in the process, his tongue sinking into your mouth, you softly whimpered into his mouth, keeping yourself quiet, the sound set him off, his hips bucking into yours to find some kind of relief, you lifted your leg over his hip inviting him in. That’s when you felt the wave of pleasure wash over you, something you had never felt before, something your fingers didn’t provide you. His bulge pressing up against your clit, grinding against you, your head now spinning at the new found pleasure.

“D-Daryl,” you whimpered into his mouth. “Oh, O-oh, right there.”

His smirk against your mouth made it well aware of how good this felt for you, your hips lifting to meet his as he grinds into you pushing you harder against him. His erection aching at the hushed sounds falling from your lips. His hand placing its self on your lower back pulling you closer to him.

“Feel good?” He murmurs against your lips.

You nod, gasping at the feeling. You were now squirming and panting feeling so desperate for him. The heat spreading in your belly like you’ve never felt before, your breathing quickening.

“D-Dar, I feel f-funny.” You pant, whispering quietly, your actions speeding up.

He abruptly stops, disconnecting your bodies, you whine softly at the loss of feeling the heat in your belly suddenly dissolving while you were aching between your legs. His hand reaches up, brushing your hair from your face, you’re alert now, brought back down to reality as your breathing returns almost to normal.

“Y/N,” he whispers softly. “This your first time?”

You were silent for a moment. How does he know? Your face flushes once again, the heat radiating throughout your body. You wanted to lie, to tell him you’re not a virgin but he would know. Daryl already did know, he sensed it from the moment you kissed him, realizing your kiss was good but not experienced and how desperately you wanted him, he took note on how you didn’t understand you were about to have an orgasm because you have never experienced one, But the thought of him being the only person to ever touch you, to ever make you feel like this, well it turned him on even more.

“I-i,” you started.

“It’s okay.” He soothed, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “You want to do this?”

The excitement travels through you once again. Yes. You screamed mentally.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Daryl, I want you.”

His hand finds it’s way between your legs, slipping his fingers into your panties, his breathing quickens when he feels just how wet you are for him. His fingers find your clit rubbing softly, you gasp electric jolting through your body. You wanted him badly, even in spite of all the people laying near you.

“Takin’ all my self control not to fuck the shit out of ya.” He breathes. “So wet. Ya drippin’ Y/N. I did that to ya?”

You nod. It was hard to keep up with all the emotions running through your body, his fingers dip sliding in and out of you effortlessly, the warm feeling in your belly heating up again. You bury your face in his neck to control your whimpers, riding his fingers at this point. He chuckles at the desperation of your hips moving quickly against his fingers, you feel the knot in your belly release, shuddering against his shoulder. Your thighs began to shake, your insides feeling completely relaxed.

“You ain’t never?”

“No.” You whispered. “Never.”

He smirks. “Glad to be ya first, sunshine.”

You could still feel his problem poking into you. Your nerves were back, eating away at you. As much as you wanted to suggest something you were scared, you weren’t experienced and was worried you’d fuck up leaving you embarrassed.

“Do you want to, you know?” You suggested quietly.

“You know there’s people around right?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

“You want me that bad, baby?”

The nickname made butterflies erupt in your stomach. The feeling between your legs was coming back in a more frustrated feeling, begging, aching, needing for more. Daryl had been dreaming of this moment since crawling into this sleeping bag with you, he kept his sexual feelings at bay but now they were here and he couldn’t be happy enough to take you right here right now in this sleeping bag even with people around.

“Mhm.” You bit your lip.

In a sudden move he was on top on you, his arms caging you in while he works his lips against your neck.

“Gotta be fast.” He whispers in your ear, the hot breath tickling you.

“And quiet.”

He undoes his jeans he was set on sleeping in since he didn’t want to change into pajamas, being slow with his actions making you want to whine for him. The friction of his jeans making his erection twitch. He fumbles with your panties getting them down your legs quickly, glancing around for anyone but everyone still seemed to be asleep. You both thanked god that it was very much dark in this room or else someone would’ve definitely saw you both.

“Ready?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

His tip achingly prodding at your opening. You were very wet making it easy enough for him to slip inside you slowly. The pain was mixed with pleasure, easing perfectly into you as your walls hugged him tightly, you clenched around him making his hips stutter.

“Fuck,” he whimpered. “Don’t do tha, gonna make me cum.”

Your hands found their way around his neck, that pain suddenly morphing into pleasure, his lips connect with yours, hiding all the moans and whimpers. Daryl could say that he was in heaven, every move making him gasp at how wet you were, how tight you felt around him. Pleasure he’s never felt before, he was somewhere between earth and fantasy. He continued his rhythm, your breathing was becoming more scattered. His hand instinctively comes up to your mouth covering it.

“Quiet,” he whispers harshly.

“I-I can’t.” You mumble into his skin.

His hips speed up, chasing his high. He could tell you were close from how you were clenching around him, making him want to moan. The warm feeling traveling through your belly makes another appearance, his hand tightening across your mouth as you lift you pelvis up to meet his, he was suddenly hitting every sweet spot in your body making your eyes roll back as your head tilts back, orgasming on his cock. The sudden wetness and clenching sending him into his own orgasm, spilling his warmth inside you.

He pulls out, your legs shaking as you both lay there panting quietly. Unable to believe what had just happened. You were instantly pulled into sleepiness, your thoughts and worries melting away. You thought about doing this more when you were worried or anxious, your mind being pulled into a blissful state.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” You whisper lazily, turning your head to meet his eyes.

“No, everyone is wore out from the travel.” He explains. “You feelin’ better? No more squirmin’ against my dick while I’m tryin’ to sleep?”

You blush. “We should do this more often. It helps.”

He chuckles quietly, kissing your forehead. “I’m down for that.”

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