m1nda0

[m1nda0]

knots

daryl dixon x fem!reader. bondage, brief role reversal, dom/sub dynamics, penetrarive sex, sex with feelings

word count: 1.6k

“Damnit, girl! Untie me!” Daryl grits out, biceps flexing as he tries to wrench himself free of the binds.

You hesitate for just a moment, studying his face. He keeps his gaze on you; his eyes are sharp, his lips a thin line, his chest heaving slightly with the effort of pulling against the rope. His expression is unwavering, and you know you’re good to continue. He’d make it clear if he really wanted to stop. You both love a power struggle.

“I don’t think I will.” You say with a grin, your cunt pulsing at the quiet growl he lets out. “Y’angry you didn’t think to tie me up first?”

“Nah,” he says cooly, eyes tracking you as you move to straddle his lap, hands resting on his strong chest. His voice is a low rumble. “I don’t need to tie you up, doll face. I tell you to stay still an’ you stay still.”

You can’t deny the way his words make your blood rush south. Memories flood your head of him ordering you around and you listening without question; him manhandling you into the position he wants and you trembling with the effort to maintain it. Before you can even think about making a retort, he keeps talking.

“You do what I say, cause you’re my good girl, ain’t that right?” His voice has changed— softened to a rasp that’s almost akin to a coo. “So why don’t you untie me?”

Your hands shift against his chest without your permission, itching to carry out his request. Your face hardens.

“That’s not gonna work.” You say firmly.

“Ain’t it?” He glances down at your hands, the tiniest of smirks pulling at his lips. “Felt you twitch, girl. Think y’might be starting to break.”

“‘M not breaking,” you insist, glaring at him. “And I’m not just gonna do what you say.”

“No?” He taunts. "Last chance."

You shake your head, brows furrowing.

“That’s a shame.” He pulls his hands out from behind his back, holding them up, the rope abandoned on the ground behind him. You’re pretty sure your heart stops. “Cause you can’t tie a knot for shit.”

"Crap," you breathe out, taking your hands off Daryl's chest. He scoffs.

"Yeah, girl." You shift backwards as he speaks, moving off his lap. "Yer in for it now."

Before you can make to scramble away Daryl's grabbing you by your forearms. You whine at his firm grip and he flips you over swiftly; all the breath is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the mattress. Your tongue nervously darts out to swipe across your lips.

His narrowed eyes stare down at your widened ones as he grabs your wrists, bringing them together at your chest. He loops the rope around them swiftly, the course material chafing against your skin, and pulls them to form a strong hold. You whine at the rough treatment.

"That's how you tie a fuckin' knot, sweetheart."

You scowl at him, trying to rotate your wrists and feeling almost no mobility. His expression barely changes, but you can tell he's smug.

He maneuvers your hands above your head and gives them a squeeze as he pushes them down into the pillow. "Keep 'em there."

Part of you wants to disobey to stand by your earlier point, but you can tell Daryl is already het up, and you decide that pushing him further is probably not in your best interest. You let out a huff of discontentment but your hands stay put.

Daryl’s fingers delve past the waistband of your shorts and underwear, hastily yanking them down your body, letting out a grunt to tell you to bend your legs so he can get them off and toss them aside.

Once you’re bare he shoves your thighs apart. His eyes are trained on your pussy, on the full thatch of hair that leads down to folds that are already slick with moisture.

He works open the fly of his own pants now, undoing the button, pulling down the zipper. The worn black briefs he has on are tented in a prominent bulge that he palms at.

“Maybe I shoulda tied you up sooner,” he mumbles, eyes trailing up from your pussy over your clothed torso and landing on your face. His unwavering gaze makes your face warm slightly. “Look so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

He pulls his underwear down to free his cock, fully hard and already leaking precum. You open your legs wider, desperate to feel him inside you, and Daryl appreciatively murmurs “attagirl.”

He grips himself at his base and drags his cock up your slit a couple times. On one pass he lets his tip catch your entrance and he slides inside you, his low groan echoing your breathy moan.

Your eyes roll back as he starts up a slow, deep pace. He’s thick, his shaft stretching you out and dragging against your walls in a way that makes you shudder. Your cunt clenched around him needily.

“Y’take my cock so well,” he says lowly as he braces himself above you, hands on either side of your head, his biceps visible in your peripherals when you look up at him.

Your bound hands come down to reach for his arm, fingers grappling at his skin, desperately wanting to grip on tight like you always do. Daryl narrows his eyes and grabs your wrists with one hand to shove them back above your head.

“Told you not to move ‘em.” He growls. You look up at him woefully.

“Wanna touch you,” you whine in a tone that usually has him rushing to sate you. This time he seems unmoved. He shakes his head.

“Yer gonna stay just like that till ‘m done.” He murmurs, still thrusting into you. You gasp at the feeling of his cock hitting your g-spot, fingers flexing as you fight the urge to reach for him again. “Gotta prove ya can be good f’me.”

“I can be good,” you whimper.

“Show me.”

You bite your lip, staring into his hard, expectant eyes. Eventually you offer him a shaky nod and still your fidgeting digits.

“That’s it.” He praises softly. "Jus' gotta lay there 'n lemme fuck you. Ain't so hard, huh?"

You huff, looking up at him with a stubborn pout, lips pursed. He scoffs, muttering "needy fuckin' thing"-- but he lets some softness show when he leans down to indulge you with a kiss.

He doesn't let it last long. It's more than a peck, enough time for you to open your mouth and feel his tongue swipe against yours, but then he's pulling away and continuing to fuck into you brutally.

You let out a long moan, legs shifting against the bed as you squirm at the pleasure. Daryl grunts and moves his knees to the outside of your legs, using his calves to pin yours in place against the mattress.

You whine at having your movement restricted, but part of you is happy to have the physical contact in lieu of your usual tight hold on his forearms. With your orgasm approaching, pleasure warming your belly like red hot coals, having him pressed against you is grounding.

It isn’t much longer until you’re unraveling beneath him. A few more thrusts against your g-spot along with a roll of his hips that has his pelvis grinding against your clit sends you hurtling over the edge. Your cunt spasms around his cock, your toes curl, your head tilts back as you arch against the mattress.

“Attagirl,” Daryl grits out, his pace speeding up as the tight pulses of your orgasm leave him chasing his own. “Cum on my dick. Tha’s a good girl.”

Stars are still dancing across your vision when he gives his final, stuttering thrust. His head collapses against your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck, and he tears himself from your pussy just in time to shoot ropes across your stomach with a long, low groan.

Then you’re both still, the room silent save for the soft panting of your breaths. Slowly your heartrate returns to normal. Daryl’s lips find your neck to pepper kisses against your balmy skin. You let out a tired, content sigh.

Daryl moves upright after a few moments, runs his hands up and down your sides as he kneels between your legs.

“Hands,” he rasps, signaling you to bring them down to him with two crooks of his fingers. You lower them obediently, watching as he expertly unities the rope.

“You were so good f’me,” he murmurs, his eyes on your hands. Calloused fingers encircle your freed wrists, thumbs massaging the tender skin, rubbing away the ache. His eyes move up to meet yours as he brings his lips to your palm and places a gentle kiss there. You smile, heart fluttering.

“Y’make me want to,” you say softly, “make me wanna be good.”

Though his face is unmoved emotion floods his eyes and he crawls back over you, giving you a long, deep kiss that makes both your chests tight. When he pulls away he does so reluctantly. Your gaze follows him as he moves off the bed.

“Gonna get you cleaned up,” his voice is gruff. He crosses the room in search of a tattered washcloth. “‘N tomorrow I’m gonna teach you how to tie a damn knot.”

[m1nda0]

Dust Bowl

Summary: With Merle in the slammer and Daryl left to fend for himself in his father’s house, old promises resurface as he heads down a dangerous path. || smut MDNI 18+, angst, hurt / comfort, DDDNE only because of dark themes! Bad things don’t happen but please heed tags if you’re uncomfortable with any of these do not read!!! Blood, Drug use, mentions of heavy drugs (implied), unsafe alcohol consumption, abusive households, conversations about death, death pact, references to suicide, childhood friends, trailerpark!daryl, young!daryl, artist!reader, pinv, one moment of painful sex, rough oral, f!receiving oral, rough!daryl, inexperienced!daryl, praise, riding, car sex || a/n: *taps mic* is this thing on? are my daryl girls still in the building? Hope the Norman girls enjoy a cameo by another cutie in this

“You gotta say it three times for it to be real,” he told you, voice low. The fringe of his dirty blond hair clung to his brow, damp where the heat of the night had glued it down. You could smell the summer on him, all sweat and dry grass and the faint tang of gasoline clinging to his skin. The smell of his brother’s stolen axe deodorant was pungent and his sneakers were falling apart at the toes, black canvas fraying to white threads, one lace knotted where it had snapped weeks ago.

You nodded, holding up your palm. In the center, the thin meat of your skin, blood beaded thick and syrup dark in the low light, clinging to the crease of your hand before slipping slow toward your wrist.

“If I go—” he began.

“—I go,” you said, the words steady even as your heart thudded sharply in your chest.

He pressed his hand to yours. The first touch was a slide, a wet shift of skin against skin, and then the grip tightened, sealing the mess between you. There was a strange hum in the air as the cicadas, the crickets all quieted, as if your pulse had braided itself with his.

“If I go—” you said this time, voice quiet.

“I go,” he answered, and now there was something alight in his eyes, a small and fierce brightness that caught and held you.

His fingers slipped into the spaces between yours, forcing your palms tighter. The blood trapped there had gone tacky, but still slick in places, and you could feel the slide when either of you moved. It stung where the cuts met, sharp enough to draw breath through your teeth.

“Don’t be a baby,” Daryl muttered, impatient.

“I’m not,” you whispered back petulantly, molars grinding in your mouth, “Jus–just say it.”

“If I go—”

“Then I go.”

Ten Years Later

The trailer was quiet except for the hum of the box fan in the window, its steady spin ruffling the papers spread out on your desk in your small, albeit comfortable bedroom. A chipped ceramic mug sat half full of lukewarm coffee beside you, the ring it left on the wood overlapping three others. You were bent over a sheet of sketch paper, the sound of pencil filling your ears like white noise. Time often blurred in the hours bent over a drawing, shading until the lines began to form shape and your hand cramped. The air smelled faintly of pencil lead and the cheap Bath and Body Works candle you’d been burning down to the wick. Outside, cicadas buzzed in the hot afternoon, their chorus rising and falling in the pauses between your pencil strokes.

Your phone buzzed on the desk, skittering with vibration, and you frowned at the name flashing on the screen.

You hesitated, dropping your pencil and letting your finger hover over the screen before you finally swiped to answer and held the phone to your ear.

 “Josh?”

“Hey, beautiful, sorry to bug ya,” came the reply, his voice carrying a lazy ease you could picture across his face, “An’ can ya quit callin’ me by the government name? Gives me the heebie jeebies.”

“Sorry, Scud.” You switched the phone to your other ear with a small smile, grabbing your pencil to erase out a stray line, the side of your hand brushing the rubber remnants away before turning the pencil back and sketching the curve again. “What’s up?”

“I just got done hookin’ Dixon up with some goods and, uh… well…” He trailed off, sucking air through his teeth.

Your pencil stilled in your hand. “What? What is it?”

“I dunno. He—he was askin’ for the hard stuff. Said his brother got booked and…” Scud let out a breath. “Well, I don’t carry that kinda shit, you know that. Ain’t healthy. I’m all herbal, baby, ya know?”

“Fuck,” you muttered, already pushing back from the table. Your drawing slid to the side as you started gathering your things. You slammed your notebook closed, stacked your supplies in a haphazard pile and grabbed your sweatshirt and keys on the way to the door. “I’m heading to him now. Was he at his place?”

“Nah. Quarry.”

Double fuck. You stopped in the doorway, your graphite stained palm pressing to your forehead while you thought through your next move. “Okay, I’ll call you later,” you said into the phone. “And Scud?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you sighed, “For callin’ me.”

“No prob, sweets,” he said easily. “Hope he’s okay.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, hanging up and muttering, “Me too.”

The gravel rattled beneath your truck tires, the sound dragging through the valley as you pushed it up the dirt track. Heat poured through the windshield, the air shimmering above the hood. By the time you jerked the gear into park, you were already swinging your door open, canvas shoes hitting dirt before the engine even coughed quiet.

There was a clattering of glass, a grunt of something, and you saw him up ahead.

“Daryl,” you exhaled to yourself, more relief than greeting.

He was down by the lip of the quarry, his faded tank falling across his chest, the red plaid shirt around his waist twisting with the motion as he stalked back and forth. There was a mess of busted bottles scattered around his feet, his backpack ripped wide, guts of it spilled in the dirt. And as he moved about kicking up dust, his arms jerked loose like he could shake something off, a half-drained bottle of Tito’s dangling from his hand. 

“What are you doin’?” you asked as you approached, voice sharper now.

He flinched at the sound of your voice and took in the sight of you, but covered it quickly, a dismissive snort cutting out of him as he pitched a rock into the water, “Who told ya?” His words were already coiled, defensive, like barbed wire.

“Does it matter?” you shot back, closing the distance. “Dare, what the hell are you doin’?”

“Go home,” he said flatly, voice scraped raw like the gravel under your tires.

You planted yourself in place, arms crossed. “How drunk are you?”

“Not even tipsy.” A lie and you knew it. “Get the hell outta here.” he added.

“No.”

He spun on you then, wild-eyed, hair clinging damp to his forehead as his lip curled into a snarl. “I don’t want you here!”

The heat pressed down heavy for a long pause, the stink of vodka sharp in the air. You could taste the anger between you, bitter and old. He was nasty with his temper, always knew how to poke your deepest wounds. An animal backed into a corner, lashing out at anything that came too close.

“Daryl, you’re acting like an idiot,” you snapped, unable to contain your own snippy tone. “What happened?”

He barked a laugh that wasn’t a laugh at all. “What happened? Fuckin’ Merle happened. Ain’t nothin’ new. Got himself locked up and now—and now I’m—goddammit—” His words cracked apart as he swore and threw the bottle back, head tipping, throat working hard.

Something in you snapped. Rage and hurt swelled hot in your chest and you lunged, yanking the bottle from his hand. Before he could grab it back you threw it to your mouth, drinking deep. The burn was immediate, brutal, spilling down your chin, soaking into your shirt.

“Would you quit it?” Daryl barked, rolling his eyes like you were just a nuisance. But when you didn’t stop, when you tipped the bottle further and choked another mouthful down, he lunged, snatching at your wrist. “I said quit it!”

You stumbled back, jerking it out of reach. “If you’re gonna be this fucking stupid, I might as well be too.” 

He stood, frozen in place as his chest heaved with breath.

“You go, I go.” you spat, eyes stinging now as you heaved in sharp lungfuls, the awful taste on your tongue strong enough to make your stomach churn and threaten, “Remember? That’s what we swore. So if you’re dead set on shooting up and drinking yourself into the grave, I’ll meet you there!”

You watched as his face broke in stages—anger, disbelief, something desperate beneath it.

“Stop,” he said again, but it was different this time. Low and serious, a warning and a plea tangled together as his eyes burned a hole through yours.

Your hand dropped, the bottle swinging loose from your fingertips. The alcohol scalded in your throat, your stomach roiled, and for a second you thought you might collapse with it.

“Just talk to me,” you begged in a whisper.

He looked out at the water, its shimmering stillness reflecting the blue of the sky, then back at you, his eyes the same shade, his chest rising too fast. 

Finally, he marched off a few paces and dropped onto a dirt mound under the cool shade of the lone tree.

You followed slowly, your converse crunching glass, but before you sat he muttered—Wait—and he tugged his plaid shirt from around his waist, shook it out, and laid it on the ground. You whispered back your thanks and sank down beside him, exhaling the breath you’d been holding in your lungs the whole drive over.

The world went quiet around you. Other than your shared breath, there was only the low rush of the quarry, a bird somewhere calling out. Cars passed far off in the valley across the water.

“I hate him.” His voice was small, broken open.

No you don’t. “I know.”

Daryl’s face twisted, and he looked away, his arms stretched long over his knees, back curling as he slumped over them, “How could—how…?” His words tangled, then cut off in a choked sound. He sniffled, quick and sharp, and before you could think better of it, you reached, your hand settling against the other side of his head, fingers in his dirty blonde hair, coaxing him down against you until his temple rested against your chest.

He didn’t cry, but he clung. One arm locked around your back, the other heavy across your legs.

“He left me with ‘em,” he whispered finally, voice muffled into your skin, the skin of his thumb between his teeth.

“I know.” You pressed your lips to his hair, closing your eyes, thinking of Daryl being alone in his house with his angry father. “We’ll get through it, Dare. We always do. You always do. And then…” you looked out at the water, its surface flashing orange in the lowering sun, “...then we’ll get away from here. Find some house out in the middle of nowhere. Live off the land, hunt, fish, do whatever the hell we want.”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning over in your lap now, eyes up to you, head still resting in your lap, but facing you now. Your hand dropped from his head to lay across his chest, the other arm now cradling the back of his head in the crook of your elbow.

“Yeah.” you echoed with a small smile.

He smiled back, just a little, as he said: “I want a dog.”

“We can totally get a dog.” you said with a quiet laugh, looking down at him. He was so damn pretty, even now, the sharpness in him carved by years that had hardened what once was soft. But beneath it, you could still see the boy you’d made that deal with. The one with holes in his sneakers, sun-bleached hair hanging in his eyes, a boy who’d never really gone away.

Daryl’s face went very serious for a moment, and brought his hand up to push your hair back, "I'm only goin if you are.” 

You caught his hand, pressed your lips to the scar etched across his palm. “You go, I go.”

He stared at where your mouth met his skin for a long beat, and you felt the air shift, only slightly, like the ground beneath you had tilted. You set his hand down carefully, your stomach buzzing with vodka and nerves both.

“Scud said you got somethin’ today?” you asked, avoiding whatever was stirring between the two of you, “Still got it?”

“Oh, so he’s the snitch,” Daryl muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, he’s a good guy,” you said, swatting gently at him. “He was worried about you.”

His eye-roll deepened, but he was already fishing into his back pocket. He pulled out a little white paper joint, flicking it between his fingers, one brow cocked at you.

You grinned, tugging your lighter free from your own pocket. He leaned in close enough that you could smell the mix of motor oil and sweat on him, the sharp tang of vodka still clinging to his breath. You cupped your hand around the flame against the hot evening wind, and he dipped the tip into it, lips around the paper. The burn flared, orange against his face, and he inhaled slowly, letting the embers pull.

When he exhaled, taking it from his mouth, he sat up so his palm pressed into the dirt just beside your thigh, his body still leaning across your legs. The joint dangled from his fingers before he brought it back to his lips, then passed it to you. 

You took it from him and inhaled the sweet stick, the smell making your brain a little fuzzy and light. You handed it back to Daryl, and he inhaled deep, then tilted his head toward you as he held his breath. You leaned in, a familiar ease to this part, the closest either of you ever let yourselves get, and let the smoke roll into your mouth, hot and sweet and dizzying.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you caught the smoke, lips parted. His face was right there, the heat of him brushing your skin, his hair falling forward. When you closed your mouth around his exhale, your lips grazed his—barely, the lightest brush, but enough to stop your heart cold.

Daryl jerked back like he’d touched fire. His cheeks flushed pink as he forced his eyes away. He acted like nothing had happened, and he was good at it too—always had been. He’d grown up learning how to bury every flicker of feeling, how to swallow weakness before it showed. That was survival in the Dixon house: hide it, choke it down, or take the beating that came with letting anything that resembled feelings show.

He passed the joint back to you with a hand that wasn’t entirely steady. You took it, holding his gaze this time, your lips closing slowly around the paper. Smoke curled in your lungs, and when you exhaled, you tilted toward him, giving it back. He leaned in, cautious at first, his mouth opening to catch the haze. His lashes lowered, long and dark against his skin as he watched you, so close his breath mixed with yours.

But you didn’t stop there. You have to be brave now. You told yourself. So you closed the gap, pressing your lips to his as the last of the smoke slipped away.

Daryl froze. For a second he was a statue, every muscle locked, as though the earth itself had gone silent beneath him. But then something broke loose as his hand came up, cupping your cheek, and he kissed you back. Everything happened quickly from there, clumsy at first, then rougher, mouth parting against yours. The taste of smoke and vodka and his own dry, cotton tongued breath filled you.

His tongue slid against yours, new and wet, and you opened for him. Your teeth clicked once in the rush of it, and you both let out these little desperate noises—his low in his chest, yours muffled into his mouth. The kiss wasn’t neat or careful. Spit slicked your bottom lip, his tongue sweeping messily until you couldn’t tell which breath was his and which was yours.

One of his hands was still planted in the dirt by your thigh, and you brought yours up, throwing the joint somewhere into the dirt as you kissed him harder. He groaned into your mouth at that, the sound vibrating straight through you.

Your noses bumped, your lips slipped wetly apart only to find each other again, the noises coming from you louder now—little gasps and grunts, the sloppy noises of spit-slick mouths trying to take in too much at once. When his tongue slid deeper, clashing against yours, you moaned right into him, and his answering breath caught like it had shocked him to hear it.

“Car,” he breathed against your mouth.

“Car,” you echoed, scrambling to get up. He smiled as you stood looking at each other, the world glittering and waving behind him, the cotton feeling of your brain making you smile wider as you took his hand. 

You swung the truck door open and climbed onto the bench seat, but before you could slide all the way in, his hands were on your hips, rough and insistent. He dragged you forward until your legs hooked around his waist, his body crowding into the cradle of your thighs. His mouth found yours again, harder this time, a hungry clash of lips and tongue, kissing you like he couldn’t get enough.

The air was thick with a buzzing in your ears, the scrape of denim, the wet smack of mouths. You shoved at his shirt until it came free, pulling it over his head, and his hands fumbled with yours, tugging clumsily at your clothes like he couldn’t work fast enough. His lips trailed sloppily across your skin, hot and wet against the corner of your mouth, your chin, your throat. You felt him at your pulse, mouthing, sucking, nipping, his breath ragged as your hands slid over his back.

“You feel so–” he murmured between kisses, “so good, so warm,”

“So do you,” you sighed, kissing his bare shoulder, and as your hands traveled down his spine, you felt the old scars, marred where a belt had slashed his back, his father’s ire always present, no matter if you were nearly naked in each other arms, miles from home. 

You stilled, your heart breaking even as your body ached for more.

Daryl froze too, lifting his head, eyes dark and uncertain.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your palms cupping his face, stroking over the sharp line of his cheekbone with your thumb. “It’s okay.”

He searched you for something, and you weren’t sure what it was—doubt? pity?—but when he didn’t find it, he kissed you again, rougher, needier, until your breath was stolen in his mouth. His hesitation gave way to frenzy, and in the next second he was pushing your back down onto the bench seat, denim scraping against your skin as he tugged at your shorts, greedy hands yanking them down with no patience.

“Dare—take it easy, Jesus—” you gasped, bum slipping on the sticky leather as he wrestled you free of the fabric. His hands were everywhere at once, fevered, desperate, like if he didn’t get closer he might burn up from the inside out.

His mouth was back on yours, teeth knocking, spit stringing between you when he finally tore away to drop down your body. His hands tugged your thighs open, greedy, almost rough, the seat pulling against your skin until he had you bared on the cracked leather bench.

“Daryl—” you started, but then his mouth was on you.

It wasn’t careful. His tongue was hot and messy, just like his kiss, dragging where it wanted, his lips sucking at your sensitive center too hard, his teeth grazing the softest parts until you gasped at the sharp edge of it. He was clumsy, unpracticed, but relentless. Every lick, every nip came with this raw desperation, like he was trying to prove something—trying to devour all the doubt that had ever been beaten into him.

Your fingers found his hair, tugging, guiding, but he was greedy, shaking his head like he couldn’t get enough. The scrape of his stubble, the wet sounds he was making—it was too much and not enough all at once. Pain and pleasure tangled tight in your belly, winding you up until your thighs trembled against his ears.

You came hard, sudden, the world going white as your voice cracked out of you, and still he didn’t stop. His mouth kept working, tongue pushing, lips dragging, like he was determined to wring every last drop from you.

“Daryl—ah, fuck, stop, stop—” you gasped, shoving at his hair, your hips jerking from the overstimulation. Your whole body was twitching, too raw, too much. “Stop!”

He lifted his head finally, mouth slick, eyes wild and almost panicked, like he thought he’d broken something, ruined something.

You cupped his face at once, thumbs brushing the damp heat of his cheeks. “Hey, hey,” you soothed, voice steady where his wasn’t. His chest heaved, frantic, but you stroked him calm, sitting up to kiss his lips. He tasted like you, heady and honey and salt. “Take this slow, okay? You don’t have to prove a damn thing to me. You know that.”

He blinked at you, shoulders drawn tight as a bowstring, his breath catching in his throat.

“I already want you,” you whispered, leaning close so he couldn’t mistake it, couldn’t mistake you. “Always have. That’s never been the question.”

Something in him faltered then, the fight bleeding out of his body, leaving him raw and uncertain beneath your hands. You guided him up with you, coaxing him back into the truck, settling him on the bench. He let you, like a colt finally brought to halter, restless but yielding to your touch.

You tugged at his jeans, pushing them down as you climbed over him, straddling his lap. He was thick and throbbing for contact, but he shivered when you kissed him again—slower this time, steady, your lips working against his until his rough breaths eased into yours. His hands hovered at your hips before finally settling there, not pulling or grasping, just holding.

“It’s alright,” you murmured against his mouth, your tongue brushing his top lip where they parted. “I’m going to show you…how good it is. How good you are. Nothing to prove to me. Okay?”

“Yeah—” his voice cracked like he was young again, just that kid in the field and blood tacky between each other’s palms, and he swallowed before trying again, “yeah, alright.”

Your gaze dropped, fingers trailing delicately down his stomach until you traced the flushed head of him. He twitched beneath your touch, a hiss escaping his teeth as he watched your hand close around him.

“You’re so big, Dare. Fuck,” you breathed, stroking him slow, savoring the weight of him in your palm.

Color rushed high across his cheekbones, his hands gripping tighter at your hips, his fingers denting into your flesh. “Please,” he rasped, near begging, “please, do somethin’, yer killin’ me.”

“Alright, alright,” you teased softly, leaning in to brush your nose against his, “patience. I’m just admirin’.”

He let out a shaky laugh, huffing it against your mouth, and when you sat back to look at him, you thought your heart might give out. His eyes were wide and open in a way you’d never seen, full of softness and trust and something that might have been love.

You kissed him again, deep and sure, as you shifted your hips and lined him up with your slick entrance.

His head fell back against the headrest the moment you pressed down, the tip of him nudging inside. You pressed open, wet kisses to the scruff at his jaw, both of you moaning loud, ragged sounds that tangled together as you sank slow, inch by inch. The stretch burned, pleasure and sting all wound tight, your body clenching around the thick intrusion. You fisted his hair, grounding yourself, while his cock throbbed and pulsed inside you until your hips were flush against his, the sensitive flesh of his balls snug against the curve of your ass.

You sat there, still, the weight of him filling you to the hilt. He was trembling under you, his chest heaving, his fingers kneading into your hips.

“Holy fuckin’—” his voice broke into a strangled groan. “Fuck.”

“I know,” you whispered, kissing his jaw again, up to his ear, soothing, steadying. “I know.”

You felt yourself twitching, pulsing around him, your body adjusting to the fullness, while his cock beat inside you with every frantic rush of his blood.

You stayed seated on him, your breath stuttering out in little gasps as your body tried to adjust, the stretch of him so deep you could feel every hard twitch of him inside you. His hands gripped your hips so tightly they shook, thumbs pressing hard into the soft flesh.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, head tipping back, throat working as he swallowed.

“Yer—fuck—you’re squeezin’ me so tight.”

You bent to kiss his mouth again, swallowing the curse off his lips. “That’s ‘cause you’re huge, Dare,” you whispered in praise, dragging your tongue into his mouth, tasting him. His moan shuddered right into you, vibrating through your chest.

When you rocked forward the first time, it was almost too much—you felt the thick ridge of him drag against your walls, every vein catching, and you gasped right into his open mouth. His hands scrambled higher, up your waist, his breath breaking into a ragged growl.

“Goddamn, I can’t—” he hissed, “feels too—”

The truck creaked beneath you as you started to move, small rolls of your hips at first, then a slow lift before you sank back down on him. The squelch of your arousal meeting his length filled the cab, obscene and wet, and the sound alone had him biting down on a groan, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip until it went white.

You found his hair again, curling your fingers into it, tugging his head back enough to kiss him hard. The kiss was sloppy, spit slick and desperate all over again, teeth and tongues and moans as your body took him deeper, grinding yourself down until you were stuffed full to the hilt.

He tried to buck up into you, clumsy, too hard too fast, and you gasped at the sudden sharp sting of him bottoming out. “Oh my god,” you breathed against his mouth.

His chest heaved, nostrils flaring as he tried to match your rhythm. “S’okay,” he said, “Y’can take it, take me.”

The sounds coming from him were raw—half-choked moans, breathy curses, little guttural noises that slipped free every time you sank down on him. Both of your thighs trembled, too intense of being stuffed full. His fingers flexed and kneaded at your hips, needy and suddenly pulling and pushing, but he stayed with you, following your lead.

“Fuck, you’re…you’re takin’ me so good,” he gasped, lips curling back in a little snarl. Different now, more intense, not angry. His words came out broken, like he was shocked by them, like he hadn’t meant to say it.

“And you’re so deep,” you sighed, your own voice shaking now. He filled you so completely it was dizzying, stretching you in a way no one ever had.

You rocked harder then, chasing the drag of him, the wet slap of skin on skin getting louder, filthier in the small space of the truck cab. Every sound felt amplified, the creak of leather under your knees, the wet squelch every time you slid down on him, the hungry tangle of your mouths when you couldn’t stop kissing him.

He broke then, thrusting up into you, messy and frantic, his breath ragged against your cheek. You held his face in your hands, murmuring, “It’s okay, Dare, just feel me—just be with me,” even as you gasped at the way he filled you, thick and heavy and hitting places you hadn’t known existed.

The pleasure rolled through you sharp and fast, a hot rush building low in your belly, and your moans turned high, needy, as you clung to him, grinding down harder, desperate for that sweet spot. He felt it too, his body tensing, the muscles in his stomach seizing as his moans grew louder, rougher.

When you came apart around him, it was sudden and earth shattering. You clenched down on him so hard he shouted, a deep, broken sound that filled the truck. You buried your face against his neck, gasping his name, while he held you tight, still fucking up into you like he couldn’t stop.

The world outside the truck might as well have burned down to nothing; all that existed was the slap of your bodies, the wet drag of his cock inside you, the heat and noise of two friends turned lovers, finally giving in.

And when the tremors ran out of you and his hips slowed, the silence rushed in like a wave. His chest heaved against yours, damp with sweat, the cab fogged with the smell of sex and smoke. He swallowed hard, throat working as though he wanted to speak but didn’t trust himself with words.

You lifted your head, still breathless, your hair sticking to your damp face. A giggle breathed out of you softly, startling in its relief, “God, Dare,” you managed between little bubbles of laughter, “that was… insane.”

He blinked at you, droopy eyed, then huffed something like a laugh of his own as his eyes fluttered open, his blue eyes shining in the lowering sun. “Reckon I didn’t…fuck…reckon I didn’t do too bad, huh?” His voice was rough, cracking on the words, but there was a boyishness to it that made you laugh harder, pressing your forehead to his.

“You were perfect,” you whispered, thumb smoothing over the heat of his cheek.

His grin spread slow, uneven, and you both dissolved into quiet laughter, the sound shaky and warm as it filled the small cab. It felt ridiculous and perfect. Just two people in love, tangled up in sweat and slick and something so much bigger than either of you wanted to name yet.

And when his laughter finally died down, he kissed you again, quick and crooked, as though he couldn’t help himself.

[m1nda0]

.*༄ cry wolf masterlist

content warnings: explicit behaviour, sexual content, trauma, ptsd and more. dni if minor and proceed with caution.

set: season 7 onwards.

pairing: daryl dixon x reader!slow burn!

synopsis

You discovered the saviors when you had hit rock bottom, alongside your sister, in hopes of salvation. However, you found yourself to be a caged animal, within the clutches of a snarling beast. You was promised a plethora of goods and fortune in exchange for your body and mind. The leader wanted a loyal mutt at his side. Negan loved his dog, and he'd use you to seduce men to conjure war plans. You obeyed always, never batting an eye at the man's demands.

Of course, your sister's life was collateral for the leader. Jean, your sister, was in the palm of the man's grimy hands. Until he offered something you could never refuse. A chance at freedom. All you needed to do was seduce your way into a community. The devil himself came up with a plan, to help free his caged beast. Daryl Dixon. All you needed to do was gain the trust of an already withering man. In hopes to unveil all their war

It was a game of chess to you... you’d only priorities your family. That's all that mattered. No matter how deep you fell...

CHAPTER INDEX!

000. DEAL WITH THE DEVIL.

001. SILENT TREATMENT.

002. THE BIGGER PICTURE.

more coming soon...

[m1nda0]

Could you see Daryl calling reader Mommy or Ma'am in bed, and if so, could you please write it?? 🙏 💕

Why yes.... I can see that 😝

hear me out though i can only see this happening when like.... the reader is a mommy. Just trust me on this one....

Mama? Daryl Dixon x fem! reader

Warnings: Pregnancy sex, mommy kink, slight breeding kink (😝), aftercare, pregnancy stuff, lactation kink? Subby Daryl, very brief use of 'daddy', some plot. Not proofread, I lowkey don't like this but enjoy 💀

The magazine was doing a terrible job as a fan, but you weren’t about to admit it. You dragged the folded pages across your flushed face, pacing the length of the bedroom in lazy circuits, your hair piled up in the kind of messy bun that was more function than style. The night air streaming in through the open window was cool enough that you could feel goosebumps prickle your arms, but to you, it still felt like midsummer in Georgia. Five months pregnant, and your body had decided personal climate control was no longer an option.

You huffed and tugged at the waistband of your borrowed boxer briefs, the elastic stretched snug beneath the swell of your bump. The bra you had on did little to help with the heat, but at least it kept you from sweating through a t-shirt.

The door creaked and you glanced up to see Daryl shuffling in, barefoot and in his own boxers, his hair rumpled like he’d just rolled out of bed. He had a mug in his hand—ice chips clinking against porcelain.

“Figured ya’d be runnin’ laps,” he muttered, setting the mug on the dresser before leaning against it himself, arms folded, eyes tracking you like he thought you might run off in an instant.

You slowed your pacing only to snatch up a chip and pop it in your mouth, sighing at the cold. “It’s either this or combust spontaneously.”

“Could sit down. Cool off that way.”

You fanned yourself with the magazine, arching a brow. “Nope. Gotta get my steps in. It’s good for me or... something-- I never pay attention to Siddiq.”

He made a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a laugh. “Whatever ya say, mama.”

Your lips twitched around the ice chip. You pretended not to melt at the name, but he caught it anyway—the way your smile gave you away. He didn’t call you out, though. Just pushed off the dresser and came up behind you, big hands sliding carefully around your waist before circling the curve of your bump.

Without warning, he lifted—just a little, just enough to take the weight of it from your hips and back. The moan that tore out of you was nothing short of obscene.

“Oh, my God,” you groaned, head falling back against his shoulder. “Marry me again.”

He huffed a laugh against your temple, his chin settling heavy on your shoulder. “Don’t tempt me.”

You sagged into him, magazine slipping from your hand to the floor, all your determination to keep pacing dissolving under the sheer relief of him holding you up like that. The pressure eased, the ache soothed, and for a moment, you could almost forget how heavy you felt.

“You do anything today?” you murmured after a bit, tracing idle shapes on his forearm.

“Fixed them rails by the south wall. Went out with Aaron. Nothin’ much.” His voice had gone softer, sleepier, like he was winding down.

You tilted your head enough to glance at him. “You sound half-asleep already.”

“M’fine.”

“You’re exhausted. Bed, now.”

He kissed your hair, stubborn silence his answer until finally, finally, he sighed. “Alright. But only if you go ta bed too.”

You smiled, eyes drifting closed as you leaned heavier into him. “Deal.”

By the time he finally let go of your stomach, the weight settled back on your hips like a sack of bricks, and you groaned your protest as he guided you toward the bed. He sat first, elbows on his knees, rubbing a hand down his face like he could wipe away the fatigue clinging to him.

You stood there a moment, just looking at him. The way his shoulders sloped with the day’s work, the way his hair fell into his eyes in loose, tired strands. His chest rose and fell slow, steady, and your heart gave that dangerous lurch you’d started to recognize—part affection, part hunger, part something far more primal.

Pregnancy cravings came in waves. Sometimes it was pickles. Sometimes it was ice. And sometimes… it was him.

Before he could look up, your hands were sliding into his hair, fingers combing through the tangles, scratching lightly at his scalp. His breath caught and his eyes lifted to yours, suspicious, wary.

“Thought we was goin’ ta bed,” he muttered, voice low, rough.

“We are,” you said simply, your lips twitching at the corner as you tilted his head back with your touch.

His gaze darkened instantly, but he didn’t move, didn’t stop you when you climbed into his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs, your stomach brushing against his chest as you settled down onto him. The look he gave you—equal parts stunned and undone—made your pulse thrum hard in your throat.

You climbed onto his lap, and his hands automatically settled at your hips, thumbs rubbing lazy circles like he was trying to pretend he wasn’t already half-gone for you. His eyes dragged slowly over you, taking in the sight of your messy bun, the waistband of your boxers riding low against the curve of your bump, the bra, too small for you now, clinging to skin flushed from the heat.

His mouth quirked into that half-smirk, half-grimace he wore whenever he was both shy and trying not to show it. “Ya want somethin’, mama?” he drawled, cocky enough to make your stomach flip.

You didn’t even answer him. Instead, your hands slid behind your back, unhooking your bra in one practiced motion. The straps slipped off your shoulders, the cups sagging before you pushed them down.

His breath caught sharp, almost like you’d punched the air from his lungs. His eyes went wide, snapping to your chest, and for a beat he didn’t move at all. Just stared. His jaw clenched, his throat bobbed, and you could see the war waging in his head—want clashing with reverence, hunger colliding with hesitation.

The stillness broke in a rush. His hands came up fast, almost too fast, fingers fumbling against the cups as if he couldn’t get them out of the way quickly enough. A rough sound tumbled out of him—half-groan, half-whine—and then his mouth was on you, hot and eager, sealing around your breast like he’d been starving.

You gasped, arching instantly, the wet heat of his tongue dragging over you before he sucked you deep into his mouth. The pull of it went straight to your core, stealing the air from your chest. Your hand flew up to the back of his head, fingers sinking into his hair, holding him there while your own breath stuttered.

The sound he made as he fed from you—low, guttural, desperate—lit you up from the inside. You could feel it in the way he clutched your waist, in the way his shoulders tensed like he couldn’t get close enough. Every flick of his tongue, every greedy suck made your stomach clench, made you bite down on a sharp, breathless laugh because holy hell, he was into it.

And all you could think was that this was Daryl Dixon—gruff, stoic, always trying not to want too much—absolutely losing himself in you, like nothing else in the world mattered but the taste of your skin. He was growing rock hard beneath you, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, a broken gasp spilling out as he groaned against you, the vibrations making your whole body jolt. It was too much—so much more than it should���ve been—and you realized belatedly that your body wasn’t the same as it had been before. Every nerve was turned up to eleven, hypersensitive, and the way he suckled at you was like a lightning rod straight down to your core.

“Daryl—” you panted, your laugh dissolving into a whimper. “Baby, gentle—oh God—”

But he didn’t stop. He pulled back just long enough to mutter, voice wrecked and hoarse, “Can’t. Can’t get enough,” before sealing his mouth back over your nipple and sucking harder. His teeth grazed, his tongue swirled, and your back arched helplessly, your thighs pressing together as heat bloomed low and fast.

It was insane, ridiculous—you’d never gotten close from this alone—but your body didn’t care. Every tug of his mouth sent another sharp rush of pleasure coiling tighter in your stomach, another wave dragging you closer to the edge.

Your hand smacked his shoulder weakly, not really to stop him but because you didn’t know what else to do. “Daryl, I—I can’t—fuck—”

He groaned again, long and broken, like he was drowning in you, and that sound tipped you right over. The orgasm hit hard and sudden, crashing through you in a rush so violent it stole the breath from your lungs. Your hips jolted, your thighs shook, and a cry tore out of you as you convulsed against him, pleasure spilling out in hot waves that left you trembling all over.

He felt it—he must’ve felt it—because he clutched you tighter, groaning into your breast like the taste of you unraveling in his arms was enough to undo him too.

When you finally collapsed forward, shuddering, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His lips were wet, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide and stunned like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

“You—” his voice cracked, rough with disbelief. “Ya just… from that?”

You nodded weakly, still catching your breath, a shaky laugh bubbling up as you tucked your face against his hair. “Guess I'm easier to please now.”

His mouth twitched, torn between smirking and gaping. He kissed your chest again, slower this time. “Ain’t complainin’,” he muttered, voice wrecked but warm.

Your laugh was still warm on your lips when you slid off his lap, fingers fumbling at the waistband of your boxers. The movement wasn’t graceful—you grunted, bracing your balance against his shoulder as you tried to bend, already annoyed at the strain in your back.

Before you could get far, his hand covered yours, stopping you dead. The calloused weight of it made you look up, and his eyes were already on you—quiet, steady, full of something that wasn’t lust so much as… reverence.

His fingers hooked into the elastic for you, tugging slowly, carefully down the curve of your hips. He didn’t look away once, not even when the fabric slipped down your thighs. The way he did it wasn’t rushed or careless, but deliberate, like he couldn’t stand the thought of you straining to bend for him.

The boxers hit the floor with a dull slap, and only then did his composure crack—he shoved them aside with a huff, impatience breaking through tenderness. His hands came back to your hips, sure and grounding, and he eased you back toward him, guiding you until you were straddling him once more, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of him. His eyes were already half-lidded, mouth parted like he couldn’t decide whether to groan or grin when your hand slid down between you.

The second your fingers slipped into his boxers, wrapping around him, he jolted. “Jesus—slow down, mama.” His voice came out a strangled rasp, his hips twitching helplessly up into your palm. “You’ll get what ya want, just—”

“When,” you cut in, your lips ghosting against his jaw as you stroked him, slow but deliberate, “have you ever known me to be patient?”

That earned you the smallest huff of a laugh, his hands gripping at your thighs like he needed the anchor. But when you tilted your head and kissed him—deep, hungry, sliding your tongue against his—he melted into it, groaning into your mouth like you’d pulled the floor out from under him.

It was messy, intoxicating, both of you breathing hard by the time you pulled back just enough to guide him into position. You broke the kiss, forehead pressing to his, and with your hand steadying him, you pushed down—slow, torturous, taking him inch by inch.

The sound that tore out of him wasn’t a moan. It was raw, ripped straight from his chest, guttural enough to rattle against your lips. His head dropped forward, burying into your shoulder like the weight of it was too much to carry.

“Fuck—” His breath came hot and broken against your skin, his hair brushing your neck as he panted. He clutched at your hips like he was afraid you’d vanish if he didn’t hold on.

You smoothed your hand over the back of his head, threading your fingers through the strands, stroking him gently. “Shh,” you soothed, your lips brushing his temple, your voice a shaky whisper even as your own body trembled around him. “Breathe, baby.”

You rocked experimentally, and he groaned, muffled against your shoulder, every muscle in his body trembling like the stretch of you around him was almost too much.

Your own breath came ragged, your lips curling into a dazed grin. “Feels good, mama?” he rasped finally, voice frayed at the edges.

The name landed hot, sparking low in your belly, but all you could do was laugh weakly, the sound cracking with pleasure. “You even gotta ask?” You arched your brows, jabbing a finger toward the swell of your bump. “How d’you think this happened?”

That finally coaxed a laugh out of him, low and wrecked, vibrating through his chest. He nuzzled further into your shoulder, still catching his breath, like the joke was all the reminder he needed that you’d drive him under every time.

His hands tightened on your hips as you began to find a rhythm, your body moving instinctively—slow at first, then deeper, rolling your hips to drag every inch of him against you. Every time you dropped down, he let out this strangled noise, torn between groan and growl, like he couldn’t believe you were really giving him this.

The bed beneath you squeaked with every shift, the air hot and humid between your bodies. Your thighs began to burn, your palms slipping slightly against his shoulders as sweat dampened your skin. But the ache only seemed to feed the need spiraling higher, each grind sending sparks down your spine.

You clung to the rhythm as long as you could, biting your lip, chasing the swell of pleasure in your belly. But soon the weight of your bump pressed down heavy, tugging at your lower back with every movement. The dull pull sharpened the longer you kept going, breaking through the haze.

You faltered mid-thrust, breath hitching. “Fuck,” you muttered, frustration bleeding through your voice as your thighs trembled with the effort. You tried to push through it, shifting your hips again, but the strain was clear in the way your breath stuttered, the way your shoulders hunched slightly instead of relaxing into the motion.

Daryl’s hands slid up your sides, steadying you. His eyes searched your face, his chest still heaving, but there was something sharper cutting through the haze of lust now. “Ya okay?” he rasped, his voice low but edged with concern.

You hesitated, lips parted, caught between the heat still licking through you and the ache dragging at your body.

Daryl’s hands steadied at your hips, his thumbs brushing slow circles that felt almost too careful compared to the desperate grip he’d had before. His eyes flicked up, catching the way your breath stuttered, the faint wince tugging at your mouth even as you tried to keep moving.

You shook your head fast, hair sticking to your damp temples. “No, I—I’m fine, just—”

“Don’t bullshit me.” His grip firmed, stilling your hips despite the way you tried to grind down again. He tipped his head forward, forehead brushing your collarbone, chest still heaving. “C’mon. Lay back.”

Before you could argue, his hands guided you—gentle but unyielding—easing you off his lap. The loss of him made you whimper, but he hushed you with a quick kiss to your belly, then another against your lips. “Hold on, I gotcha.”

The mattress dipped as he followed you down, his body braced over yours for just a second before he rolled you onto your side with a care that made your chest ache. His arm curved beneath your bump, lifting the weight just enough to make you sigh in relief.

And then—slow, steady—he slid back into you from behind, his chest warm and solid at your back, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear.

Both of you groaned at once, the sound muffled and tangled together, your body instantly melting into his.

“There we go,” he whispered against your neck, voice breaking on the words, and he let out a sigh that sounded like he was holding in all day. His hips rocked slow, steady, measured—like he was determined to give you everything without asking for a single ounce more from your body than it could give. His arm under your belly shifted, holding you like he was bearing the weight for you.

You exhaled a shuddering breath, the ache easing into something sweeter, deeper, with him curled around you like that. For the first time since climbing onto his lap, your body truly relaxed, every nerve still burning but grounded now by the way he moved with you, for you, slow as the world outside your window.

Your whole body eased back into him, like it had been waiting for him to take over. The mattress cradled you, his arm anchored around your middle, and his hips rolled in a rhythm so patient it almost drove you insane. Every inch of him pressed against you—chest to back, thighs tucked to yours, breath ghosting across your shoulder as he moved.

You swallowed hard, the sound breaking when he shifted just right inside you. “God, Daryl…”

His lips brushed your ear, the corner of his mouth twitching against your skin. “Yeah, that’s it. Feels better now, don’t it?” His voice was soft, lazy, but with that rough little edge he couldn’t shake, the one that made heat pool low in your stomach.

You hummed, letting your eyes flutter closed, your hand curling around his forearm where it held your belly up with steady strength. “Mmhm. So... so much better.”

He kissed the side of your neck, slow and lingering, then scraped his teeth gently over the spot just below your ear. “God, I missed ya today.” Another lazy thrust, another groan he swallowed into your skin. “Fuck, ya ready for another one mama?”

The nickname hit harder like this—murmured in your ear, his breath warm, his hand resting against the swell of your stomach. It made you shiver. “You like callin’ me that, don’t you?” you teased, your voice still shaky.

“Mm,” he grunted, the sound vibrating against your shoulder. His hips pressed deeper, slower, and then his hand slid up from your belly to cup your breast, thumb brushing your nipple with aching care. “Can’t help it. Look at ya.” His mouth moved against your skin with each word, like he was tasting them as much as saying them. “Carryin’ ma kid, lettin’ me fuck ya slow like this… don’t think I ever wanted nothin’ more in my whole life.”

Your breath caught, half from the words and half from the deliberate drag of his hips. You arched back into him, your hand sliding up to bury in his hair. “Daryl…”

He groaned, low and shaky, pressing his mouth harder to your neck as if he couldn’t stand the distance. “So good ta me,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin.

The rhythm never faltered, never rushed. It was steady, endless, like he was trying to stretch the moment into forever—his hips rolling, his hand caressing your bump, his mouth kissing your shoulder, your jaw, your temple. Every little detail built until your body trembled from more than just the stretch of him—it was from the weight of his devotion, the raw need threaded through every word and every touch.

“Oh fuck, baby,” you whined, your voice cracking. “I think I’m bout to cum, I can’t—ffuuuck.”

It hit before you could even finish the words. The ache in your back, the tension in your belly—gone, swallowed whole by the rush that exploded through you. It was sudden and overwhelming, your body clenching tight around him as heat tore down your spine. You bit your lip, muffling the cry that still tore free, trembling as wave after wave shook you apart.

Daryl groaned with you, long and broken, the sound of a man being dragged under. His hips stuttered but never stopped, grinding deeper like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

You slumped into the mattress, boneless, chest heaving, sweat dampening your temples. But the smirk curling your lips told a different story. “Well, I’m out,” you teased, smug as hell despite the tremor in your voice. “Guess you’re on your own now, Dixon.”

His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breath hot, ragged. “Don’t—” he rasped, hips rolling again, slower but deeper, like his whole body shook with the need. “Don’t say that. Need ya.”

You hummed, sly and knowing, tilting your head back to bare your throat. “What? Can’t finish without me?”

That earned a guttural groan, his teeth catching at your skin like he wanted to bite the smugness right out of you. “Ya know I can’t,” he breathed, desperate, every thrust rougher, less controlled. “Ain’t—fuck—ain’t fair.”

"What's not fair is me carrying your huge Dixon baby around," your laugh spilled out, low and breathless, sharp as a blade. “Oh, sweetie… you’re really that far gone?”

You let yourself go limp, relaxed in his arms, making him do all the work, making him chase it. And God, did he—hips snapping forward, groans spilling raw from his chest, his restraint unraveling until he didn’t sound like Daryl anymore, just some poor man coming undone.

You guided his hand tighter around your breast, your palm over his, coaxing him. “C’mon, baby,” you whispered, sweet as honey and just as cruel. “Go on. Use me. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Just a knocked-up girl, already full of you, letting you take what you need.”

“Shit,” he gasped, broken, guttural. His mouth dragged against your shoulder, trying to kiss, to beg, not knowing which. “Please—need it, need ya so bad—”

“Mm, I know,” you crooned, nails dragging down his arm, your smirk never fading. “Can’t stop thinking about it, huh? How you made me a mama. How I’m all full ‘cause of you.” You rolled your hips just enough to make him whimper. “Can’t wait to be a daddy, can you?”

His answering groan was so guttural it rattled through your bones. His thrusts turned erratic, his voice breaking against your skin.

“Yeah, that’s it,” you urged, voice softer now, coaxing him higher. “Gonna give me more, baby? Wanna fill me again, even like this?”

That was it—the unraveling. His whole body tightened around you, his rhythm gone, hips jerking as he lost it completely, spilling into your cunt with ragged curses and broken groans. He clutched you so hard it almost hurt, burying himself inside like he never wanted to come out.

You stayed boneless in his arms, smiling smug as you kissed his temple. “Knew you couldn’t hold out,” you murmured, stroking through his damp hair as he panted against your neck.

The sound he made—half-groan, half-whine—told you he’d never live this down.

He was still shaking when the last of it left him, his forehead pressed hard into your shoulder, his breath ragged like he’d just run ten miles with a pack on his back. His hips twitched a final time, shallow, helpless, before he stilled, slumping against you like every bone had been stripped out of him.

You couldn’t stop smiling. The smug curve on your lips softened into something gentler, your hand sliding up into his damp hair, combing it back from his temple. He was hot all over, his chest sticky against your back, his stubble scraping your neck as he groaned, low and half-embarrassed.

“Spent yourself good, didn’t you?” you cooed, voice warm as you tilted your head to brush a kiss against his hairline.

He let out a noise that was definitely not dignified—something between a grunt and a whine—burying his face even harder into your shoulder like if he couldn’t see you, you couldn’t tease him.

“Oh, don’t go shy on me now,” you teased softly, your fingertips scratching lightly through his hair. “You just rocked my world and now you got nothin' to say, daddy?”

“Stop,” he muttered into your skin, his voice muffled and rough, but his arm tightened around you, holding you closer, like he didn’t mean a word of it.

“Don’t wanna,” you sang back, kissing the shell of his ear before nuzzling it. “You’re too cute when you’re all tuckered out. My big bad hunter, worn out by a pregnant lady…”

“M’gonna regret ever callin’ ya mama,” he groaned, but the flush in his cheeks betrayed him, the way his lips brushed clumsy against your shoulder between words.

You chuckled, shifting just enough to rub soothing circles on the arm locked over your bump. “Oh, definitely. But it's a great time for me.”

“Yer evil,” he mumbled, but his voice was quieter now, the fight draining out of him as his body melted heavier against yours.

You kissed his temple again, lingering there, whispering into his hair. “Yeah. But you love me anyway.”

For a long while, he didn’t answer, just breathed against you, his chest rising and falling slower, calmer, like he was already halfway to sleep.

Daryl was heavy on you, all sweat and heat and the faint smell of pine soap clinging to his skin, and for a moment you didn’t mind it — didn’t mind being pinned under the weight of him, limp and undone, his face buried against your shoulder like he could hide from the world there.

But he stirred before you did, shifting just enough to press a kiss to your collarbone. “Hold up, mama,” he muttered, voice rough and wrecked. With slow, careful hands, he rolled off you, bracing his weight so he didn’t jostle your bump, and guided you down into the mattress.

“Daryl—” you started, but he hushed you with a brush of his lips against your temple. He reached for the rag on the nightstand, wiping you down in soft, unhurried strokes. His touch was clumsy with exhaustion, but tender all the same, like every drag of the cloth was more about making sure you were cared for than about cleaning anything away.

You sighed, sinking into the pillow, your body too heavy and too warm to fight him on it. He finished quickly, tossed the rag aside, and slid back in beside you. This time he was the one tugging the sheet up, tucking it around you both before pulling you close into the curve of his body.

His arm slid around you, palm coming to rest over the swell of your belly like it always did, thumb tracing lazy circles as though to soothe both you and the little one inside.

You let yourself lean into him fully, cheek pressed against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall as he settled. The weight of his hand over your bump, the press of his lips against your hairline, the way he curled around you like he could shield you from the world—it all wrapped around you like a blanket.

“Better?” you murmured, half-asleep already.

“Mhm.” His lips brushed your hair again, clumsy but sure.

Your throat tightened, heart flipping, and you laid your hand over his, anchoring him to your belly. “Sweet dreams, daddy,” you whispered.

He hummed low in his chest, and that was the last thing you heard before the silence pulled you under, wrapped in the rhythm of his heartbeat and the unshakable way he held you.

[m1nda0]

𖧧 … 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒 𓏻 d.dixon ֶָ֢ ᐟ

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

pairing: daryl dixon x fem!reader — requested !

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

setting: alexandria arc, season six.

wc: 1.2 k words

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

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

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

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

You didn’t make it easy, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because if we’re being honest, he was.

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

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

In the end, he just kept walking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Test me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ᯓ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 : by me.

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

[m1nda0]

Ykw Daryl’s arms are the thing I notice most in the show AND HOLY GYATT ARE THEY BEEFY

Like he would totally and maybe only in the later seasons, rail you in a headlock and gently kiss your head to quietly remind you that he loves you

Also if this sounds crazy it’s cause it’s 3am💔

nsfw mentions durr,,, never question how crazy you sound anon i am shoving this idea down my throat and running away,,,,, OURGH UR SO RIGHT need his beefy arms having me in a headlock ur so smart anon,,,, when will it be my time to get headlocked by big beefy arms,,, </3 this was a peak idea ough i need mroe so yummy

daryl had jokingly grabbed you into a headlock when he saw you, he expected nothing to come out of it besides you getting jokingly angry with him. the feeling of his big arm wrapping around your neck, squishing your cheeks together, it gave you a rush.

you were silent for a bit, daryl thought he had hurt you somehow. he quickly let go sheepishly apologizing. you snapped out of your daze making sure he knew he had just surprised you. your mind was running wild with ideas you couldn't keep contained.

you didn't know how to bring up your thoughts with daryl, sure he would manhandle you a bit during sex but he always seemed too soft for it.

"daryl..." you voice interrupted his train of thought as he turned to look at you. "you remember that headlock you put me in before right?" you could see the cogs turning in his brain, a look of guilt flashed on his face for a second.

he thought you were going to tell him something bad, that you hated that he'd done that, that you thought he was mean and rude for it. "could you do it again..."

"what?"

"never mind."

"i can do it, i just don't want to hurt you." all aryl cared about was your health, but if you wanted him to shove your head between his arm he was more than happy to oblige.

"you won't hurt me, i promise." daryl nodded his head, he still wasn't sure but if it was what you wanted.

he started off slower than usual, trying to get his bearings before going in too deep. "there we go..." he started to pick up his pace a little, his dick sliding in and out of your hole.

slowly his arm moved forward linking around your neck. that feeling of pressure on your neck and face gave you the rush you needed.

"are you alright?" daryl needed to know you were okay.

"yeah..." you were in such a daze, loving the feeling his actions were giving you. daryl continued to speed up his pace, from the sweet moans leaving your mouth he knew you were enjoying yourself. daryl leaned forward his face right next to yours.

"if it gets to be to much, tell me." he whispered, his breath hitting your face as he continued to slam in and out of you.

he couldn't help but think of how cute you looked with your face all smushed in his arm. daryl loved this, he hoped you enjoyed it just so he could see you like this again.

"so cute..." his lips moved over to your forehead, giving it a quick peck. he couldn't stop himself, he wanted to smother you with affection while he had this hold on you.

he was used to your turning away whenever he tried to overwhelm you with his sloppy kisses, this was a much needed time for him. ever part of your face daryl could reach he kissed, your forehead, your cheek, your nose even your chin wasn't safe from his lips.

"fuck, you look perfect." he didn't care if your face became wet because of him. he just love seeing you like this, so drunk off of the feeling. "i love you so much..."

you were able to muster out a soft "i love you too." before going straight back to your drunken haze.

you were absolutely going to ask him to do this again.

[m1nda0]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Series Masterlist: Seasons 1-7

❧ Media: The Walking Dead ❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Seasons 1-7 ❧ Reader Pronouns: she/her ❧ Status: COMPLETE

❧ Synopsis: You find yourself in the middle of the end of the world, a world that you’re pretty sure you’re not meant for. Still, you try to keep your spirits up and survive by any means possible. It isn’t until a certain crossbow-wielding redneck comes into your life that you find what’s worth surviving for.

❧ Series Disclaimer: The reader insert in this series is essentially an OC, as she has her own detailed backstory and is even related to a character in the show. Nevertheless, I like the second person format and the concept of not describing her physical appearance, so that's what I did. Despite being related to a character in the show, I am not trying to imply that she has to be any race or look any certain way. Please feel free to use your imagination and see the reader insert as whoever you want to be.

❧ Spotify Playlist

❤️‍🔥 = smut (18+)

❧ Chapter 1: In the Dark ❧ Chapter 2: Destroying Angel ❧ Chapter 3: The World Now ❧ Chapter 4: Sticks and Stones ❧ Chapter 5: How To Kill a Man ❧ Chapter 6: Time To Waste ❧ Chapter 7: Remember ❧ Chapter 8: Extinction Event ❧ Season 1 Moodboard

❧ Chapter 9: Homestead ❧ Chapter 10: Written In the Scars ❧ Chapter 11: Ghosts ❧ Chapter 12: A Little Piece of Heaven ❤️‍🔥 ❧ Chapter 13: Don't Ever Be Afraid ❧ Chapter 14: Paradise Lost ❧ Season 2 Moodboard

❧ Chapter 15: Soybeans ❧ Chapter 16: Behind Bars ❧ Chapter 17: Close Quarters ❤️‍🔥 ❧ Chapter 18: A Mother's Blood ❧ Chapter 19: Thicker Than Water ❧ Chapter 20: To Know Him Is To Love Him ❧ Chapter 21: Sleeping With the Enemy ❤️‍🔥 ❧ Chapter 22: Fairytale ❧ Season 3 Moodboard

❧ Chapter 23: Knife's Edge ❧ Chapter 24: The Killing Moon ❧ Chapter 25: From Bad To Worse ❧ Chapter 26: Death Row ❧ Chapter 27: You'll Never Walk Alone ❤️‍🔥 ❧ Chapter 28: City of Woe ❧ Season 4 Moodboard

❧ Chapter 29: Try, Try, Try ❧ Chapter 30: The Study of Grief ❧ Chapter 31: Before I Sleep ❧ Chapter 32: Some Sunny Day ❧ Chapter 33: Interview ❧ Chapter 34: Suburban Home ❧ Chapter 35: Everything You Wanted ❤️‍🔥 ❧ Chapter 36: Pick and Choose ❧ Chapter 37: The Last Frontier ❧ Season 5 Moodboard

❧ Chapter 38: Death On Our Doorstep ❧ Chapter 39: Dark Is Bright as Fire ❧ Chapter 40: This World and the Next ❤️‍🔥 ❧ Chapter 41: A Hill To Die On ❧ Chapter 42: Means To an End ❧ Chapter 43: For Whom the Whistle Blows ❧ Season 6 Moodboard

❧ Chapter 44: Every Ugly Thing ❧ Chapter 45: What God Has Done ❧ Chapter 46: Abnormal Psychology ❧ Chapter 47: When Life Gives You Lemons ❧ Chapter 48: Retrouvailles ❧ Chapter 49: Sex, Age, and Death ❤️‍🔥 ❧ Chapter 50: Thy Kingdom Come ❧ Season 7 Moodboard

Seasons 8-11 Masterlist Oneshots Masterlist Main Masterlist

[m1nda0]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon [m.list]

❝i looked for you…at the start. why’d you leave without sayin’ goodbye?❞

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you’re forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you’re left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

playlist: keep holding on - avril lavigne | already gone - kelly clarkson | hanging on - emilee moore | through the trees - low shoulder | skin - zola jesus | obstacles - syd matters | home to you - fka twigs | words - skylar grey | two is better than one - boys like girls | back to december - taylor swift | how to save a life - the fray | for the love of a daughter - demi lovato | confessions of a broken heart (daughter to father) - lindsay lohan | all my dreaming - emma russack | souvenir - boygenius | heaven i know - gordi | afraid of nothing - sharon van etten | halley’s comet (outro)/halley’s comet (outro slowed) - billie eilish | santa monica dream - angus and julia stone | here with me - d4vd | dark side - kelly clarkson | rush - lewis capaldi | hold me while you wait - lewis capaldi | war of hearts - ruelle | medicine - daughter | reader’s theme song - leslie stevens.

©darylmydix. please do not repost.

000 | 001 | 002 | 003 | 004

[m1nda0]

norman reesus +au. +characters rec list!

masterlist. socials. recs.

headcanons |

He’ll go down first by @pinkandblueblurb Scars by @letterstotheflr

fics & imagines |

Perfect to us by @kdogreads - Daryl and his wife, y/n, enjoy a quiet evening with with their little family before spending some nice time alone. Been awhile by @eclipseiz - A quick run is never really quick with Daryl. Your ivy grows by @letterstotheflr - It's his fault. daryl knows that. he should've realised sooner that he knew exactly what those mushroom's would do to you once you ate them. Love on the brain by @ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused - Daryl knew jealousy was ridiculous, but it was as if there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to you or for you. Secrets I have held in my heart by @ssa-montgomer - Daryl misreads laughing and joking with Rick as flirting which leads to a fight between the pair where Daryl's hidden feelings are revealed. Little does he know, she's felt the same way the whole time. In the woods somewhere by @ssa-montgomery - You don't know what kind of life is waiting for you at Alexandria, but you certainly aren't expecting the complicated relationship developed with Daryl. Teach me by @onlydarylnormanfic - Almost getting bit on a run and Daryl is furious with her. They get back to the prison and she asks him to teach her a thing or two about self-defense against walkers and people. Fate by @lu-vin-it - Daryl and Y/N are split at the beginning of the apocalypse. When a new group comes to the farm, maybe fate will be on your side. In my imagination, you're waitin' lyin' on your side by @ssa-montgomery - Sexual frustration over Daryl gets the best of her and she takes things into her own hands, but what she wasn't counting on was Daryl seeking her out mid-session. Knots by @pinkandblueblurb

series/multi part |

I love you, and I don't say it enough by @frenziedslashers - Daryl returning to Alexandria after escaping from Negan. Go get him by @theteasetwrite - You've known Daryl for a long time, and you've flirted with him for a long time, too. Today's the day you finally take things to the next level and show him just how much you want him.

disclamer! none of these are my works all credit to the authors. I just loved them so much figured I'd give them a shoutout!

[m1nda0]

A moment alone.

S1! Daryl Dixon x reader.

Warnings: oral!f receiving, smut, idk what else it’s literally just him eating you out😞 no words bc Daryl’s too busy eating you out😛

Inside the rusted-out sedan, parked well away from the main camp, every breath felt like a shout, every rustle of worn fabric a thunderclap.

Weeks.

Weeks of the constant press of bodies, the watchful eyes, the shared meals, the endless patrols.

Weeks of stolen glances, of brushing hands that lingered too long, of the simmering, desperate need for privacy that had become a physical ache.

Now, finally, miraculously, you had found a sliver of it.

Daryl’s hand, calloused and rough, slid up your thigh, bunching the worn denim of your jeans.

He didn’t ask, didn’t hesitate.

There was no need for words between you two, not after all this time.

You’d shed the jeans on your own, the flimsy barrier peeled away in the cramped space, your legs already lifting, instinctual.

He moved between your knees, the dim moonlight barely piercing the grime on the windows, casting shadows that danced like hungry ghosts.

His head dipped, and the first touch of his mouth was a shock, a jolt that went straight to your core. It wasn’t gentle.

It couldn't be.

This was the release of weeks of tension, of unspoken desire, of a primal need that had been starved, neglected, pushed down under the weight of survival.

He ate you like a man starved. His tongue was a hot, relentless force, his lips claiming, sucking, devouring.

It was immediate, intense, and utterly consuming.

You felt the subtle rasp of his stubble as he moved, the damp heat of his breath, the insistent pressure of his mouth.

He wasn't just tasting, he was claiming.

Every lap, every suck, every deep, guttural sound he made against your skin, echoed the desperate hunger in his eyes, in the fierce grip of his hands on your hips.

Like his last meal.

He plunged his tongue deep, then drew back, only to return with a renewed ferocity that made your back arch involuntarily, your breath catching in your throat.

Your hands shot upwards, finding purchase in the thin, slightly damp strands of his hair. You tugged, hard, a desperate plea for more, for deeper, for everything he had.

Your fingers tangled, pulling at the roots, a silent scream of pleasure and need.

You could feel the rigid line of his shoulders, the tension in his neck, the single-minded focus that was so uniquely Daryl.

The car was small, your legs already pushed against the door opening, but still, you fought to keep them spread wide for him.

Your thighs trembled, wanting to clench, to pull away from the overwhelming sensation, but a deeper part of you craved it, demanded that you stay open, vulnerable, utterly exposed to his ravenous attention.

A low moan ripped from your throat, muffled by the close confines of the car, as he found a new rhythm, faster, more insistent, teasing the very edge of your sanity.

Every nerve ending was alight. You were nothing but sensation, a quivering mass of bone and muscle, melting under his skilled assault.

The tight space of the car, the lingering scent of stale sweat and gunpowder, the distant whispers of the night outside – it all faded into a blur.

There was only Daryl, only this raw, primal act, only the desperate release of weeks of pent-up need.

And then, as your body shuddered, bucking against his mouth, a wave of incandescent pleasure broke over you, violent and complete, leaving you gasping, utterly spent, and finally, blessedly, quiet.

Daryl remained, his breath hot against your skin, his body a heavy, solid weight between your trembling legs.

A moment of shared stillness, of quiet understanding, before the world— and the group — would demand your attention once more.

For now, in this small, dark space, you were both, finally, fed.

[m1nda0]

Fade Into You

Daryl Dixon x Reader

You are woken up by your boyfriend, Daryl, who just got done with a hunt. He missed you… a lot.

Hi! This is my first published fanfic so I really hope it’s good! The Daryl brainrot has gotten so bad that I had to channel it into writing haha. Anyway I think I’ll be posting more fanfics on here, as I have some others that I’m writing as well! Please lmk if you like this! Thank you!

Cw: Smut, Vaginal fingering, dirty talk, D/S (I suppose?)

You slowly blink your eyes open as you feel the bed dip next to you.

“Relax girl, it’s jus’ me.”

You sigh. It’s just your boyfriend, Daryl.

He sighs and begins to untie his boots, sitting on the bed with his back to you. You, still sleepy, wrap your arms around his waist, feeling his strong muscles under his shirt.

“How was hunting?” You whisper to him.

“Was alrigh’. Got a few squirrels, rabbits. Was hopin’ for a deer, though.” He begins to unbutton his shirt.

His big hand softly pats yours, which are wrapped around his waist. You move them for a second so he can take off his shirt.

You watch as his back comes into view. This certainly isn’t the first time you’ve seen his scares, and he’s slowly gotten more used to it. You softly touch his back muscles and his bird tattoo on his shoulder blades, then kiss the bird’s head.

You hear him let out a deep sigh again as he moves to lay down, pulling you into his chest. He moves your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead.

“How was my girl today? Hm?”

You smile and nuzzle your head against him.

“Was good. Missed you.”

He hums softly and moves his hand so it’s under your shirt., raking his nails over your lower back.

“Missed ya too. I uh… I found some flowers. Thought ya might like ‘em. Put ‘em on the table downstairs.”

You smile. He was always so thoughtful, constantly bringing you back little gifts when he went out. Stealing CDs from cars for your little CD player, little trinkets that made him think of you. He kisses your forehead again.

“I’m sure they’re beautiful,” you respond to him

He nods and reaches for your hips and pulls you fully on top of him, still scratching your back. You can finally see his face now. His pupils are blown wide from the dark. His face is a little dirty, but really when is it not. He licks his lips.

You lean in and kiss him softly. He eagerly kisses back and one hand goes to the back of your head. You pull away and smile at him.

“You smell good,” you whisper.

He looks confused. “What? I’m sure I smell like sweat and the woods. And cigarettes.”

You giggle.

“Smells good.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your forehead again. “Crazy girl. Hell am I gonna do with ya?”

He pulls back and sighs, smiling fondly at you.

“You tired?” You ask.

He shrugs. “A bit. Huntin’ took a lot outta me, but seeing you gave me a second wind.” He smiles. “Why? Ya tired?”

You sigh. “A little. I was kinda asleep when you got here.”

The tips of Daryl’s ears turn pink, but it’s barely visible in the low light. “Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to wake ya.”

You kiss his scruffy cheek. “It’s ok. I don’t mind. I got cuddles out of it.”

He gets a bit redder. He would’ve wanted to cuddle anyway. Truth be told, he couldn’t sleep without you anymore. When you’re away on a run overnight he doesn’t sleep, his arms feel painfully empty.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, a weird habit you’ve picked up. Daryl smiles, secretly enjoying how affectionate you are.

You kiss his cheek again, then pull away just slightly, close enough that your nose is still touching his face. You move down towards the area below his ear and give him another kiss there, then another on his neck.

You pull back and look at him. His eyes are glazed over slightly.

He licks his lips and grabs the back of your neck gently and pulls you in for another kiss, pressing his lips softly against yours. You can feel his hand that was scratching your back move to your hip. You kiss for a moment before pulling away, slightly breathless.

“Yeah?” He asks. You nod. He always knows exactly what you want.

“Atta girl.”

He moves to kiss you again, his hand on your hip moving to grasp your ass. He pulls you against him, and you can feel his bulge press against you.

You moan softly into the kiss. Daryl pulls away slightly.

“Shhh… shhh, ‘s ok, sweetheart.”

You blush, slightly embarrassed how worked up he can make you just from kissing.

He begins to kiss your neck and down to your collarbones, moving your shirt down.

“‘S this my shirt?”

You blush darker. “Maybe?”

“‘S cute. Ya look better in ‘em than I do.”

He reaches for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re just wearin’ panties.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s more comfortable to sleep like that!”

He cracks a small smile. “I ain’t complainin’.”

His hands go to your panties and touches the outside. He leans in and whispers to you.

“You’re drippin’ sweetheart. Lil thing missed me, huh?�� His smile widens as you blush more.

“Oh, I know. I know, baby. Shhh…”

Pulling your panties to the side, his fingers go to your clit and pinch it slightly. When you gasp he takes it as a sigh to move one of his thick fingers down to your weeping hole. He presses his middle finger in slowly, smiling as you whine. His other hand gives your ass a little encouraging pat.

“There ya go. Takin’ me so well.”

He slowly pumps his finger in and out.

“Think ya can take another?”

You weakly nod.

“‘Course ya can.”

He pushes his ring finger in alongside his middle finger.

“Takin’ me so well. Ya always do. This body’s made for me, ain’t it.”

You nod again, burying your face in his chest.

He continues pumping his fingers in and out. You watch as he looks down at where his fingers disappear inside you, almost mesmerized.

“Jesus Christ, girl…”

You look up. “Something wrong?”

“Nah,” he replies. “‘S just… the way ya look… I like it…”

You blush. “Oh…” You feel his fingers curl slightly and hit your spot.

“Mmh… Daryl…”

He cracks another small smile. “Yeah? Right there?”

You just nod in response, biting your lip and digging your fingers into his shoulders.

You feel him move his thumb to press down on your clit. He takes his other hand and places it on the back of your head, pulling you in to kiss your forehead before pushing your face against his chest.

You whine against his chest. He smells so good and his hands are so gentle. It’s just not fair.

“Daryl…”

He shushes you.

“I know sweetheart. Cum for me, sweet girl. I gotcha.”

You whine louder, gripping him tighter, your vision going white.

He continues to move his fingers inside you, working you through your orgasm.

You slump against his chest and whine, slightly overstimulated.

The sleepiness hits you right away. You feel him pull his fingers out. Still cradling your head, he pulls back slightly and looks down at you, smiling when he sees your face.

He holds his fingers up to your mouth, covered in your slick. He raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking.

You move closer to take them in your mouth and suck on his fingers, moaning at the taste.

He moves his hand cradling your head to ruffle your hair.

“Atta girl.” He pulls his fingers back, your mouth making a “pop” noise. He smiles, watching as a strand of saliva connects your mouth and his fingers.

“Ya tired now girl?”

You frown.

“What about you?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m ok. You need your rest. Plus, we have all day tomorrow for you to help me.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“I thought Rick wanted you to go hunting again tomorrow.”

“Rather spend the day with you. Fuck ‘em.”

He pauses.

“On second thought, it won’t be him I’m fuckin’ tomorrow now will it?”

You scoff.

“How can you be so shy then say stuff like that?”

Daryl shrugs.

“Don’t think ‘bout it too hard, girl. Now get some sleep. You’ll need your energy for the morning.” He smirks.

You sigh.

“When did you get so sassy?”

He laughs.

“Ya rub off on me.”

[m1nda0]

D.D. | Shane's Girl Masterlist

Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Merle Dixon and Shane Walsh are the worst possible men in the world

Part One: Tempers Flare

Part Two: A Promise Broken, An Offer Made

Part Three: A Lesson Learned

Part Four: Cowboy Killer

Part Five: Jealousy, Jealousy

Part Six: A Better Man

Part Seven: Two Sides, Same Coin

Part Eight: An Olive Branch

Part Nine: Reunions & Resurrections

Part Ten: Like An Oath

Part Eleven: The New World

Part Twelve: An Unlikely Alliance

Part Thirteen: Hell On Earth

Part Fourteen: The Aftermath

[m1nda0]

࣪𖤐.ᐟ I’ll keep on adding as I write.

Fluff—❤️ | Angst—💔 | Suggestive—👀 | Smut—🔥 | Platonic—💜

navigation. taglist. ao3.

Summary: While on a run, you and Daryl got captured by a group that took you both to their community named “Sunny Meadows”. Despite the name, you could quickly note that the people were not as sunny. You two needed to escape, for both your lives and for your unborn child’s. However, that was easier said than done.

Overall warnings: Swearing, blood, death, attempted sexual assault, torture, pregnancy (although it isn’t a main plot point).

Chapter One ❤️💔

Chapter Two 💔

Chapter Three 💔

Chapter Four 💔

Chapter Five 💔

Chapter Six 💔

Chapter Seven...loading

[m1nda0]

Unfortunate Timing [Part 1]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.7k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, smut, reference to abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Pre Apocalypse

You had moved to a small town in Georgia to get away from your parents. Your Aunt Mary had a little boutique and offered a job. Your parents didn’t like you weren’t married yet, not even dating either. So they have been shoving men at you for the last few years. They thought by your age you should have been married with kids. They wanted grandkids. Your brother was married but him and his wife struggled with fertility. The final straw was trying to get you into an arranged marriage with one of your father’s business buddies kid. You had only just turned 30.

It had freaked you out how your parents made it seem like you didn’t have a choice. So you packed your bags, your mother pleaded for you to not go. You broke the lease to your apartment and left without telling them where.

You like the simple life you were leading now. Helping your Aunt's business. You lived with her because she was a widow with no kids and wanted the company. You had some interesting neighbors across the street. You had just driven into the driveway taking notice of a man fixing his truck. It was hot outside and his arms were covered in grease.

You walked into the kitchen where your Aunt was doing dishes. You decided to help making idle talk about how the shop was until you looked out the window to still see the sleeveless man. Your Aunt caught you looking, "Thought you came here to get away from boys?" You smile shyly at being caught, looking back down and handing her a wet plate to be dried. "Never said that... Just the one my parents choose. Didn't have time to look for a date when men were thrown at me randomly by them." Your Aunt was amused to say the least. "That's Daryl Dixon, him and his brother live there. You have to watch yourself with a Dixon. But Daryl has helped me with a few things that broke around the house. He replaced the battery's in the fire alarms for me a week before you came."

You gave her a sideways look, "You trying to set me up now to?" Mary laughs, "Fine fine, granted I do bake something for him every time he does something for me. Could just have a sweet tooth." You look back out the window, ‘Daryl huh?’

It was a week later that you got a call from your brother. You went on a walk to take the call. He was anger that your father was on him for a kid because you had disappeared. The pressure had turned to his wife who was already having a hard time with infertility. It was when you were walking back to the house did the conversation get heated.

"Grow a back bone and yell at them Mathew! Why are you coming at me for!?" He responded with his own venom, "Why couldn't you just do what they asked! But go ahead die alone for all I care!" He ended the call abruptly after. You clenched your teeth tight and closed your eyes trying to compose yourself. A voice called from across the street, "Ya doin alright over there?" You turned to see Daryl beer in hand with the hood of his car open. You sighed shoulders sagging, "Sorry for the yelling." Daryl pick up another beer showing it off to you, "Sounds like ya could use one of these." You put your hands to your hips before deciding to walk over. You grab the beer he handed you with a smile, "Thanks..."

You cracked the can open taking a sip. Daryl stare at you for a second before saying something, “Yer boyfriend causing you trouble?” You chuckled at the thought, making a small face of disgust at it even, “No, that was just my brother being an ass.” Daryl took mental note of that ‘single’. He huffed and looked back down into his trucks hood. “Oh trust me I know how that is.” You look at him as he refocused his attention to his car, ‘That’s right, that’s what your Aunt had said.’ You lean against the truck. “Your Daryl right? I’m Y/N” Daryl looked back up at the mention of you knowing his name, “Oh so ya heard bout us.” He sounded a bit disappointed at the thought. You lean to look inside the car, smiling over to him, “Only the things my Aunt said.” He perked a brow at that, “Who’s yer Aunt? What she say about us?”

“Mary.” You pointed over your shoulder to the house, “And she mentioned you might have a sweet tooth.” Daryl looked over to the house of the lady he often did things for, her niece chiming in again. “Always see you fixing this truck across the street.” He pulled a red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands, “Ya damn thing always seems to be breakin.” He took notice of the girl fully now. You took slow sips of the beer he gave you while starring into the hood. “Well if I have any trouble with my car I know who to ask.” You looked up to him with a shy smile. “I’m useless when it comes to knowing anything about cars.”

That’s how they both started talking. You watching him fix a couple spark plugs while talking about things. Getting to know each other a little. Like how you were helping Mary with her shop. “Ah, so you just moved here.” You nodded, “Mmm about a month. Have no clue where anything is and have no friends so…” you shrug. A breeze started as evening was setting in. Daryl hesitated before saying, “I could show you some local spots.” He bit the side of his thumb nail waiting for an answer. You had bit your bottom lip looking up at him and smiled, “Sounds like fun to me.”

He was worried for a second he messed up, “There’s a bar that everyone knows, real popular on Fridays.” You nodded while looking at him staring down at your watch seeing you had been talking for about a hour. It was getting late so you slowly started to walk backwards to your house. You smile with a glint in your eye, “Sounds like a Date… see you Friday!” You waved and all he could do was look on with wide eyes. Did you just- “Pick you up at 8!” He yelled. He was in slight disbelief at the out come. Had you been flirting with him the whole time?

You had handed him a tool before he could even ask. You had known how to do it all along and played stupid to talk with him. He smiled down as he closed his hood. ‘Oh you were trouble.’

When Friday came he was kicking himself. This was unlike him to go on dates. But he wouldn’t deny he liked you. You were also looking forward to a date for the first time in a while. Preferring it more than being tricked on to one with some guy your parents liked. Daryl probably didn’t fit that kind a guy they would. Oh but your kind definitely. Your Aunt watched you try on an outfit before deciding to go with a floral casual dress that went to your knees. She gave you a smug look and you only rolled your eyes. You had a long black jacket over you, knowing it was already cool outside.

Daryl knocked on the door and off you went in his truck to this bar. He was slightly nervous when he saw you dolled yourself up, and for him? He had lied to Merle where he was going and doing. He was desperately trying not to blow this, “Ya look pretty…” he had said it at a stop light looking over to you. It’s everything a girl wants to hear, and it sure made you smile.

When they got to the bar the bartender seemed confused to see Daryl with a girl. He was normally there with his brother. Mostly to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid he had noticed. “Well if it isn’t a Dixon, tell your brother he still owes me for the glass he broke.” Daryl cringed at the mention of his brother. You just simply took a seat on a stool. “What can I get you two.”

You had a few drinks you’ll admit. You tried a classic drink that the locals had. You were grossed out at the drink causing you and Daryl to laugh. He only had a drink with the need to drive you both home. You had tried to play pool but decided you were a little to inebriated at how many times you missed the ball entirely. You were standing in a corner of the bustling bar talking. You held a bow empty cup dying laughing at a story had told you about his childhood. Sometimes kids dumb actions, like jumping off a shed in a hero outfit, were just funny. You had lost a little balance at your laughing and place a hand onto Daryl’s chest. He only looked down to you putting a hand to your waist to steady you. You had tears of laughter in you eye, you fanning your face to no ruining your make up. He was definitely enjoying this more than he wanted to.

You had been at the bar for about 4 hours with Daryl. You now walked leaning into him in the parking lot. He had an arm around your shoulder leading you to the car door. He started the car and looked over to you, “Should have told me ya were a lightweight.” You gasped offendly, “Lightweight! I’ll have you know I’m just tipsy.” He looked at you questioningly humming. You relaxed into the car seat, “Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while- might be a little rusty on the drinking game.”

You both continued to joke around until getting to the neighborhood. He back up in your drive way to later drive into his own. Him doing that thing with his arm as he back up. You bit your lip at the sight. When he parked and looked at you you spoke, “Thank you for this Daryl, I had fun.” He nodded, “Was my pleasure…” you had slowly moved closer crossing the middle seat. He looked down at your flushed face, mostly done by the alcohol. That liquid courage probably giving you the strength to grab him by the chin and slowly kiss him. He leaned into it grabbing your hip. You pulled back with a bashful smile,

“Same time next week?”

He had fully smiled at that, “Ya bet your sweet ass. Now get out of here miss ‘tipsy’.” You giggle wiggling your way out of the car. Waving goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. He felt his heart skip a beat, ‘oh he was real screwed…’

That night he even thought back to how you were looking at him on the way back. He had caught you leaned against the window with hooded eye. When he looked at you, you tried to fight a smile. Oh and how could he not think of the kiss. His hands dragged down his face at the thought.

This went on for a little over a month. You would see each other throughout the week but Fridays you would go out. Small touch’s and kisses here and there. It wasn’t until you ended up back at that bar that things changed. You were only 2 drinks in. You sat in a booth with Daryl. Head on his shoulder and hands intertwined under the table. You pulled away getting up, “I’m going to get another drink and you a beer. Then I’ll wipe your ass in a game of pool!” Daryl chuckled, “Let’s hope you can hit the ball with your cue this time.” You stuck out your tongue at him while walking to the bar. You had only been waiting for your drinks when a man slide up next to you.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing with a Dixon? He blackmailing you?” The man held a sleazy smirk. You only look at him with disgust ignoring him. It was when he put his hand to your arm pulling you closer did you talk to him, “Hey back off!” The man’s grip tightened, “What you a hooker or something? Only way a Dixon could get some pipe is by paying for a slut.” You had yanked your arm from him, you falling back a little before landing against someone behind you. A arm rapping around you, you recognized it instantly, Daryl. His voice growling and rumbling against you, “Back off my girl.”

The man who was bothering you only rolled his eyes, “Maybe keep your slut on a leash-“ You had felt Daryl lean forward behind you before you even saw him sock the guy in the face. You had gasped and turned to push Daryl back from the guy. He stumbled and held his nose. You whispered to Daryl, “Ok it’s time to go…” You tried to push him closer to the door but the jackass decided to spit out another comment, “Ya let your bitch drag you away pussy!” You felt Daryl lean forward and resisted you leading him backwards but you spoke softly up to him, “Please…” His eyes briefly met yours. He looked back up to the guy who was probably drunk but, Daryl’s blood was boiling with rage. He relented at your plea and walked out the exit.

He was quiet as he walked back to the truck. Walking a little faster ahead of you. When he got into the drivers seat you had said his name but he wasn’t listening. He put the key in the ignition, turning it on but your hand rested onto his arm and you said his name again, “Daryl…”. He slumped a little and turned the car back off. He slowly turned to look at you. You scooted closer into him. You closed your hands around his face so he would look at you. You gave a small smile, “Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck before leaning back to look at him.

He signed and placed his forehead to yours talking a moment. He thought maybe he was gonna scary you off at the out burst. He whispered, “Hope I didn’t scare ya.” You chuckled shaking your head, “They opposite really. I was scared of that guy and then you came and I felt ok again.” He inhaled a breath before I closing his arms around you. He pulled you into him more and you rapped an arm around his back. You sat there for a moment before you spoke, “Soooo, Your girl huh?”

Daryl froze in place. Didn’t even register he said it in the moment. He pulled back from you, mouth agape, stuttering before he gave up at trying to say anything. You placed a hand into his hair playing with a strand of hair, “I’m your girl?” You had almost whispered it. Daryl cleared his throat, “Will you be?” You let out a breathy sigh,

“Yeah, thought you’d never ask.”

That is when you officially started dating. Sat in the truck, in the parking lot, making out for a good 10 minutes.

You were enjoying the new found established relationship. Over the next week was filled with your Aunt seeing you cuddle on the couch watching a movie. You had even managed to give him a small haircut in his bathroom, “Hmm, I think you would look good with long hair.” Sometime you would find yourself in Daryl’s room laying on his bed just talking when Merle was away.

Speaking of Merle he had later found out when at the bar that his baby brother started a fight over his girlfriend. He had thought nothing of it until he asked his brother if it was true. When it was confirmed he laid hurtful comments at him. ‘No one can love someone like us!’ ‘Like you really?’ It was a definite damage to his ego. But some of the things he said about you rubbed him the wrong way. It made him defensive, ‘She a good lay?’ ‘got you pussy whipped.’ They had yet to even cross that line.

You know understood why Daryl had not wanted you to met his brother at first. He made rude and sexually comments to you. Often either being sexist or racist any time near him. You mostly tried to say clear of him.

Then there came the drama that followed from your parents. Apparently your Aunt let it slip to your brother you were with her. He told your parents and now here you were getting a call from her shop. You picked up the business phone and before you could even spit out your prepared greeting you heard your father’s voice boom over the phone. “Now you listen to me little lady you’re coming back home!” You pause shocked. “Your little tantrum is done and you will do as you’re told!” You could hear your mother in the back telling him to calm down. You to in a breath and replied calmly, “Dad, I will do no such thing.”

He was yelling more. You had caught something about a wedding date and some name before your mother took the phone from him. “Honey, you need to come back home ok?” You really couldn’t understand why, “No Mama I like it here.” She went to go on, “We are just doing what we think is best for you. We just want you to be happy with a husband.” You had enough snapping at them for the first time, “You want what’s best for you. If you wanted me happy you would have listened to me! I’ll have you know with the time I’ve been gone I finally feel free. I even got a boyfriend!”

Your mother gasped, “In the town you’re in! What redneck white trash could you possibly find out there!” You were surprised at the way your mother spoke. But you were also mad at it. You angrily replied, “His name is Daryl Dixon! Fuck you! Never call me again!” You hung up seething. You had closed the shop a little early.

After the call from your parents you walked to the bar. The bartender seemed surprised seeing you without Daryl before asking, “Your usual?” You nodded with an appreciative smile. While waiting for the drink you noticed Daryl’s brother with a few other people. You ignored him deciding you would have the one drink and go home, not really in the mood to deal with Merle.

You had just finished your drink when you heard a commotion behind you. Merle and another were arguing. It was getting really heated. You had stood about ready to leave when the other guy threatened Merle, “I’ll kill you for this!” When you had turned Merle was smug looking and unaware of the knife being pulled from behind the man’s pants. You had yelled, “Merle!” In a panic you lobbed your glass at the man. It shattered over his head sending him to crumple to the side on a table. The knife slipping from his hand and landing in front of him. Merle looked down at the knife before looking up to where the glass came from, spotting you. You were shocked with your mouth open looking at the man holding his head in pain, before looking back to Merle. The few other men that were sitting with them getting up displeased.

Merle realizing he was out numbered started to run toward you. He had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him to the exit. The bartender yelled as you got dragged away. “Hey!” You had yelled back before the door closed, “Sorry Lawrence I’ll pay you back later!” Merle was still dragging you along to his motorcycle. The door had swung open and the angry men started to pursue you both. Merle had yelled at you when you pause to look at the door, “Get the fuck on!”

You had hopped over the seat and sat behind him. Not having a moment to hold on before he started to speed off. It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that you started telling him off.

Daryl had heard Merle’s motorcycle pull in but he wasn’t expecting to hear you yelling right after it. “Goddamn I’m already having a shit day!” When he walked out the front door to see you telling Merle off as he just sat there on his bike silently taking it. He had never seen his brother not throwing words back at someone. “Are you an idiot!” Not even that got a reaction from him. Daryl knew that would normally get replied by violence. It wasn’t until he spoke did you turn at his voice, “The hell is goin on?” Your anger soon crumpled into tears, you were overwhelmed and maybe a bit scared still body pumping with adrenaline. Daryl almost got whiplash at the sudden mood shift.

That didn’t stop him from hugging you as you started to cry. He shot a look to his brother who still sat on his bike. Merle looking weirded out at the sudden tears. "The hell you do ta her?!” Merle rubbed the back of his neck, "May have got into a bit of a fight at the bar with some folks. She kinda stopped me from being stabbed." He had felt you shaking in his grasp now. He knew you hated conflict, told him about the pit that would form in your stomach. But you stopping Merle from being stabbed? "How she do that?" Merle chuckled, "Threw her glass across the room! Knocked him clean on his sorry ass." He seemed almost impressed by you.

Daryl started leading you back toward your home. Daryl turning to yell back to his brother, "Whatever man piss off." He had gotten you into your house before you spoke, "My Aunt went on her Cabo trip with her book club friends. She'll be gone a week... stay?" He gulped, "If ya really want me to." You nodded, "I don't wanna be alone." He saw you were scared.

He lay next to you in your bed after you calmed down and ate dinner. "Want to talk bout it?" You moved closer to him leading him to put a arm over you. You sighed into him, "I was at the bar because I had a rough conversation with my parents. Somethings were said. Their the reason I moved here, to get away from. I saw Merle and then the knife- then all those men chased us." Your hand rose to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Just been a- a shit day." You move to look up to Daryl's blue eyes a smirk rising to your lips at the worried and tight look he was giving you. He relax a little at your attention. He dragged a hand up your arm to your face, "Merle seems to think your a badass now." He himself was a little proud to hear what you did. You grunted into his chest, "He'd better. Saved his dumbass."

You were talking for a while after that. Seeing the clock blinking 1am now. You were sleepy but enjoyed talking to him to much to fall asleep. Sleep was pulling at your eyes and a question that should have been a inside thought slipped out, "Why haven't we had sex yet?" Daryl was a little taken back but not to shocked at the question, he hummed, "Honestly not a clue, I like you to much to mess anything up." Maybe the tired feeling was making his lips a little loose to. He paused before continued, "I've only had meaningless sex. Nothing with feeling behind it." He smirked down to your hazy eyes, "Why? You tryin to get in my pants?" You chuckled adding a little shrug, "Perhaps. Take me out to dinner and we'll see how the night goes from there." That made Daryl's heart beat a little harder. Of course he has thought about it before just didn't know how to act on it with you. He held you a little tighter to him, goofy smile to his face, "Yes Ma'am."

Take you out to dinner he did. Nothing to fancy but by the end of that night you offered him to follow you inside. You were laughing while bumping backwards into things as you both kissed. You stripping buttons down his shirt when he paused face looking uncomfortable. You stopped at the look. He sighed squeezing his eyes tight. Reminding himself it was you. "Uh sorry, just forgot to mention- just look fer yourself..." You softly pulled the shirt down off of him. Revealing scars along his body.

You dragged a finger along one. You look up at him with round eyes. He looked away before saying, “M’ Daddy was a drunk.” You intake air and release it at the information. You leaned down and kissed the scar you touched. Everything turned slow from that point, more sensual. He rolled into you at a pace he never had before. He was used to chasing a feeling, getting it over with. But every time he would push into you he couldn’t help but love the groans you made. You sure loved the noises subconsciously coming out of him as well. You would move up into him. The slow motion had sent you crazy. Leading you to claw at him begging for more. He didn’t go faster but harder.

Your moans filled your bedroom. Daryl was sucking on your neck while rutting into you. He was huffing out air and grunting in exertion. The tight clench he felt around him damn near knocked the wind out of him. He had pulled out and rested his head on your chest while trying to catch his breath. You dug your hands into the back of his hair.

That night lead to many more like it. Which is what lead you to the current situation going on. You were in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Not just one but three. You sat on the floor contemplating, 'How did this happen?' 'Do I keep it?' 'How do I tell Daryl?' You and Daryl had been only officially dating for 3 and a half months now. The first test had you in denial, the second had you begging. The third had you close to acceptance. At least you weren't ugly crying anymore. Before anything you needed to tell Daryl. So you called him over saying it was urgent.

He opened the front door and jogged to your room seeing you crisscross on the bed looking distraught. He kneeled down at the front of your bed looking up at you. You took in a nervous breath before talking, "If you need a moment after I tell you this, its okay, I wont be mad." Daryl's heart dropped to his ass, 'were you about to end stuff between them?'

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes slowly widened and he looked down to your stomach then back to you. He abruptly stood up then paused again. His mind moving a mile a minute but also not at all. The one thing to click was "A father? ME?' He slowly walked out the room. You sat there with tears burning in your eyes watching him leave the room. He paced back and forth hand running into his hair. The fight or flight in him was telling him to run, he was overwhelmed. Then he heard a small sniffle come from the room he had just come from. That stopped him in his tracks. He thinks he loves you. You both hadn't gotten to saying it out loud to each other. He didn't know what love felt like but this was what he imagined it to be. He hated to see you cry. Made him feel like maybe he would to if he didn't fix your tears. When he heard you he slowly made his way back into the room. Realizing you were most likely as terrifies as him, more so even.

You felt his arms around you making you cry harder. You had run the possibility of him leaving in your mind. Fully aware of his lack of a good father in his life. When you pulled away to look at him he also had tears going down his face. It was the first you have seen him cry. You had now put your arms around his middle and pulled him down to now lay on top of you. You had a tight hold on him and he you. You both calmed down and you knew he wasn't leaving, then he also whispered into you, "I've got ya. Both of ya."

It was rough that first day. It didn't feel real. You told Daryl how you were going to make a appointment in the morning. You asked if he was wanting to go with. He had slowly nodded deep in thought. You had said they could talk about everything in time.

You both had time.

You had an appointment in a week, the receptionist suggesting you go and buy prenatal vitamins before then. You also broke the news to your Aunt, she was supportive. Saying she would love to help with anything you needed. You and her walked a few blocks to a small store connected to a pharmacy. You looked to the shelves of pills. You held two big bottles, different brands, of prenatal vitamins. The sound of screaming alerting you to a disturbance in the store. You turn to your Aunt with a questioning look. You both peaked around the aisle spotting someone on top of the other, a fight perhaps?

Gun shots to your left making you jump. You turned seeing a man backing down the aisle beside you shooting rounds into a woman approaching him. You witnessed the women not even flinch to each shot. Your Aunt pulled you by the shoulder backwards down the lane. Another person who was pale with foggy eyes rounded the corner. It grabbed your Aunt and before you could blink took a bit out of her neck. You watch in horror as she dropped to the ground with that person on top of her. Blood from her throat being ripped out had splattered across your face. You screamed terrified. The lady the man had been shooting at now turned the corner from the aisle they were in. Now she was covered in blood though. You look down to your Aunt who had stopped moving. The thing taking notice of you. So you ran.

You had just seen your Aunt being brutally murdered. You ran out the door of the building pill bottle still in hand. You saw people running, cars crashing. Others getting hit by cars. It was a nightmare but you felt like you need to keep moving. You ran down the road back to your house. Dodging anyone covered in blood.

Daryl had kicked the door open to your house. Merle was packing stuff into the truck across the road. He screamed your name looking for you anywhere. When he couldn’t find you he ran back to the car, “I can’t find her!” Merle rolled his eyes, “Forget about her! She probably died someone where let’s get are asses out of here!” Daryl yelled back at him with rage. “THE IS NO WAY IN HELL IM GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT HER!” The yell had shocked Merle. Daryl had never talk to him like that. “We can find you a new lady we gotta go!” Then Daryl did something more unexpected. He shoved Merle back. He had hit the side door of the truck, Merle was about to hit him when he yelled, “She’s pregnant man!”

Daryl had a panicked and pained expression on his face. He started to stuttered out, “I-I gotta go look—“ The sound of his name being yelled from a distance made him turn in the direction. He was relieved to see you running full speed toward him. His relief flooded by panic at the sight of blood painted across your face and cloths. He ran the rest of the way to you. Crashing into each other in an embrace. You struggled to regain breath after how long you were running. Daryl had held your face seeing were the blood came from. Tears forming in your eyes, “It’s not mine…” Merle’s voice cutting in, “Come on love birds we gotta go now!”

Daryl lead you to the car opening the door and making you jump in, “Stay here I’m going to get some of your stuff.” He ran off back to your house and Merle started tightening the cables to the bike in the back. He sat down in the driver seat and looked over to you. You had two pill bottles on your lap and you stared at your hands shaking. He then noticed all the blood on you and decided to keep his mouth shut. Daryl ran back throwing a duffel bag in the back before going to the passenger side. You sat in the middle still a little stunned. Like a bird who flew into glass.

Daryl’s arm went behind your head resting on your shoulders. You leaned into him. Merle had started to peel out of the space driving off into a direction. You heard little of the talk between them. Choosing a quarry they know to get away from the towns and head into the woods.

All you knew was the world was changing.

Part 2

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Sorry for mistakes I to eepy its 2 am. I'm dyslexic and struggle with it and normally reread 10 times to fix mistakes but this is so long I wanna go to bed.

[m1nda0]

honeymoon -> daryl dixon/tradwife!reader

omg… degen writes real smut again???

warnings: breeding kink, straight missionary sex. Lol that’s all i tried to be sweet but nasty with this

during a particularly quiet, slow day, one that allowed you lots of free time to day dream and reminisce- your fingers nervously ticked and tapped along the spine of the book you were nose-deep in, but finished long ago. building up the courage to voice the thought that was growing, suffocating, bouncing in your head:

“daryl, dear,” your voice was meek but your head was held strong and shoulders tense. he looked your way, placing his hand on your wrist and gently held you, almost encouragingly. “i’ve been… have you ever… i’m not sure how to…”

“spit it out then, jus’ me you’re talkin’ to.” he eyed you curiously. you were never one to stumble over words or hold back on him.

“well, just been thinkin’- we’ve never got to have a proper honeymoon.”

a sly little smirk tugged at daryl’s lips, eyes narrowing in on you, giving your wrist a gentle squeeze.

“really? that’s what you been dreamin’ about all day?”

“i wouldn’t say all day.” you tried to hide behind your book again, rolling your eyes in a rare moment of embarrassment.

“and how’s our perfect honeymoon go on in your lil’ head, hon?” he slides his hand up your arm to give you goosebumps, then back down to hold your hand, interlocking fingers like the day of your wedding.

it was a joyous day, bright shining georgia sun and a glittering lake. it wasn’t huge by any means, any remaining members of you and daryl’s respective families made it at least. his doomed brother, merle, was already day-drunk before the ceremony even began. your sister nearly drag him out by his ears, she’d be damned if he ruined this moment for you two. everything was perfect and pure and holy.

no living human was to blame for walkers to stampede through the crowd, tearing down the decorations and guests, leaving a rotted stench behind. daryl, always so quick and ever in charge, started swinging on the ones coming up your aisle with a chair while his brother ran to get a gun from the truck. threw you the shotgun, and without a beat, husband and wife through thick and thin, sickness and in health, defended your commitment from the stand until you kicked off your heels and started running, hand in hand.

“however you’d like it to go,” you wiggled your feet around beneath you. “i wouldn’t know much about it anyways.”

“don’t gotta know nothin’ to want somethin’. ain’t that how i got you?”

the sentiment had you smiling like a girl again, perking your flushed cheeks and fanning yourself. “oh daryl, i just know it would’ve been perfect…” you brought conjoined hands to your mouth, pressing a soft kiss to his scarred knuckles.

“i’d want a big, soft bed, all princess-like, with the canopy draped,”

daryl hummed while you spoke, thumbing over the small scar on your nose you got from the ceremony, planting his own kiss, more blush blooming across your face.

“some conway, maybe montgomery, playing on the radio-”

“don’t need to be hearin’ some other man when i got you under me.” he pecked your lips to cut you off, then made a path further down- chin, jaw, down to your neck. he slowly rose, pulling you up gently by your hand then swooped you into his big strong arms.

dainty fingers ran over the scruff of his beard and throat, rubbing the muscles of his neck and shoulders as he carried you up to the bedroom. your legs dangled and kicked around excitedly. it was happening. not like it hadn’t happened before, but now daryl was going out of his way to make more of your dreams come true. you were getting antsy back on the couch, now you wouldn’t be surprised if your underwear was completely soaked through.

“wait daryl!” you latched onto the hallway closet, and he stood firm in place. letting you open it and lifted you up to the top shelf, you retrieved a dusty old box that preserved your veil and small tiara, passed down from your family. he did the honors of placing it on top of your head, the transparent fabric flowing behind you like a picture-perfect memory.

shared giggles and smooches filled the air, the world stilling when daryl gently laid you on the bed, his hands on either side of your waist and yours on his chest. he took you all in; drank in the soft glow of your skin, spirals of your hair around the plain sheet, your carved-by-god angelic face barely concealed by the wedding veil. if only he could have you in your gown again, to be the one to dutifully remove your garter and kiss up your thigh.

your husband slowly lifted the sheer cloth to reveal your doe eyes, looking up at him so deeply, your caress pulled him into you, warm body against warmer. his fingers brushed along the back of your thighs, pulling them up to wrap around his torso, ghosting up the length of your body to cup your face.

“y’know what else?” his voice was soft and trembled right over your lips. you nearly burst from anticipation, bringing your chest up to meet his, pushing impossibly closer. “never even finished our vows. got right to the end, before…”

“i do,” you exclaimed just as gentle as he had, just for his ears to hear.

“i do.”

“forever?”

“forever.”

with promises and lips now eternally sealed, instantly all over each other like you were starved. daryl was your true love, made for each other, and god you needed him inside you like he was the cure.

his beard scratched your chin up as he kissed you, progressively getting more ravenous, open mouthed, drooly and hot and heavy and eager. a true make out session that hadn’t happened since a drive-in theater date years ago. your arms loosened just enough for him to hike up your sky blue night gown, feeling you up underneath. cupping, grabbing, squeezing- anything to get to feel you everywhere every possible way.

pulling apart the loosely tied string at your neckline, daryl kissed down your throat to collarbones and barely concealed cleavage. a surge shocked you straight to your core when he pushed back the ruffles, fully exposing your breasts for him to admire and hold. his thumbs drew circles around your nipples, feeling his breath fan across your sternum before he brought them to his mouth.

you writhed into your man, mewling to his attention, gripping at his hair. you could feel his moan vibrate into your heart, more kisses and licks down your front, stopping at your belly button for a moment.

“what’re you doin’ there? huh?” you cooed, cradling his jaw and wiping the spit from his mouth. he only looked at you with a strange longing gaze, akin to innocence, but you had a feeling his idea wasn’t just that.

“baby,” he nipped at your flesh, bunching up the ends of your dress to examine further. you wore a pair of specially preserved cotton panties, pink like love and enveloped in your heat. “ain’t never seen you wear these before. you love plannin’ these things out, don’t ya?”

you shrugged coyly, spreading your legs apart further. his eyes close as he works his magic up and down your thighs, settling against you and kneeling on the floor before muttering: “this okay?”

“oh, yes please. you’re being so-” and daryl loved to interrupt you, cutting you off again by pulling you by your hips right against his face. he inhaled your scent, holding you back from closing your thighs around his head.

“don’t be shy now, you’re my woman, all of you.” reaching a hand around, he slid your pristine panty to the side and carefully licked at your pussy- he knew you needed a little time to get used to it. he had all the time in the world.

your grip on his hair only tightened when the flat of his tongue lapped at you, getting you even wetter- if possible. you held your head up trying watch him devour you, he just looked so sexy, completely focused on you and working so hard to please you. that came easy to him, knew you inside out. you were already falling apart and back into the sheets, a finger gingerly gliding against your slick opening. you rolled your hips, pushing him a little further, holding him against you harder.

moaning his name like a prayer, he gave in to your desire and pressed his finger inside you. he grunted in pride, suckling on your clit and nodding along to your noises like they were encouragement. the way you began to squirm around, helplessly locking him in between your thighs and suctioned to your pussy, told daryl enough. “gonna cum f’me? all over me, baby, go ‘head.”

chest heaving and stomach twitching, one last buck of your hips and you were cumming, undone and breathless. daryl’s tongue gave one last long stripe to your dripping cunt, sucking up the sweet sticky mess you made, evident on his glistening beard. he gave you a moment to gather yourself- watching you contently, prideful and accomplished. you were suddenly pulling him up towards you for another deep kiss, didn’t care to catch your breath or that you could taste yourself.

“goodness daryl,” your voice was syrupy and made him cling to your every word. wiping his hair from his face and scooping up the fluid dripping down his jaw, another messy kiss. “you’re so- that was- god, so amazing!”

he pressed against you, weight holding down your belly as his belt clattered to the floor and dark jeans crumpled along with it. you grinned, raising your eyebrows in excitement, holding the sides of his face. “i can do you, if you’d let me, would you like that?”

daryl shook his head curtly. “no time for that. you ready for me?”

“yes, dear.”

“gonna take all of me?”

“yes, daryl,” you licked your lips, hungered again. “i’ll take it all for you.”

“gonna get you-” he fell silent as he pressed the fat tip of his cock inside you, rocking gently back and forth to ease in. you caught your bottom lip into your teeth, fingertips wrapping around the base of his neck and gripping onto his shoulder. you two shared a moan when he slipped inside, your mouth fell into an open ‘o’ shape.

daryl’s eyes were hooded, yet fixed on your glorious expression, taking advantage of how your jaw slacked to place his thumb on your tongue. he could only smirk in delight when that got you to focus again, immediately wrapping your lips around the digit. “there’s my girl. yer’ doing real good.”

his head dropped slightly to watch his dick disappear into you, sliding more of his length into your walls, warm and sucking him in. nails dug into the muscles of his neck and shoulders, scratching across his back then down his arms as he stretched you out slowly- teasingly, cruelly, slow.

you could only whine and tremble beneath him when he bottomed out inside you, filling your empty tummy to the brim.

“doing okay, baby?” he pressed a kiss to your nodding forehead as he held himself still above you, mirroring your smile as you settled and adjusted yourself beneath him. he brushed back a strand of hair behind your ear, placing a kiss there too, why the hell not. “so pretty like this.”

you sighed, high and breathy, when daryl pulled his hips back and forth a few times. his palm found its place against your throat- not squeezing or choking, just holding you there, feeling the pulse against his own. the invisible connecting threads of spit and sweat broke away as he pulled himself up, holding your hip to thrust faster. your toes curled tight and eyes screwed shut, moaning at every motion.

what a sight you were. silky nightgown accentuated the curves and the thin sheen across the expanse of your body, tits bouncing at the force of your husband’s command, tiara incrementally slipping from its adornment on the top of your head. daryl just smiled. you were perfect, his perfect wife.

he propped a dangling leg on his shoulder, kissing your calf and hitting a new, deeper angle. the way your eyes popped open and clutched at his forearms told him he was brushing against a sweet spot.

daryl held you down, drilling faster and faster into you. he was a man and would make you cum a second time before his own. he was a man with desires. passion and dreams. he knew he could tell you anything, and when you were like this, maybe you’d agree.

“stay still and lemme put a baby inside you.” made sure his voice was loud and clear, wanted it to be more of a question but it came out like a command. maybe it wasn’t right, and now he was getting in his own head, pace faltering.

you wrapped your legs around him, strong, managed to hold yourself up on your elbows long enough to tell him: “don’t fucking stop, give it to me!”

daryl’s heart pounds in his ears as hard as he’s giving it to you and your little pussy, a man possessed. he can’t hold back anymore, and it all spills from his thoughts out his mouth.

“feel how deep i am?” you’re nodding again, moving your hips to meet the beat of his. “gonna cum so deep into this pretty pussy,” his thumb rubs deep circles into your clit again, pulsing around his cock, he knew. “you ain’t gonna have a choice but to make me a baby.”

“but i want it!” your all whiny and inconsolable, trying to stop your eyes rolling back to keep looking daryl in his. you’re shaking with another orgasm ripping through you, keening, “want it so bad- s’all i ever wanted- give, give me, all of it-”

daryl lets out a choked grunt, pushing his dick so far into you there’s no way he didn’t shoot his load straight through your cervix. your limbs and gummy walls wrap around him like a vice, unwilling to let go, feeling him throb and squeezing out every last drop.

he realizes he’s been laying on top of you too long, worried he’s suffocating you and rolls off to lay next to you. “sorry,” is the first thing he says.

your laugh fills the steamy bedroom, he rubs the inside of your thighs as your body twitches, unmoving.

“don’t be sorry honey, that was…” your shaking your head up at the ceiling in disbelief. daryl is terrified when you start crying, sitting up and pulling you to his chest, apologizing profusely.

“no, it’s okay, it felt so good!” you try to comfort him through your tears, but it doesn’t look any better to him. “it was perfect daryl, i’ve wanted us to try for so long!”

his heart managed to shatter yet swell at the same time. grateful you wanted a child just as much, glad he gave you a perfect moment, but sad and guilty that he waited so long.

he rocks you in his arms and kisses your face all over as you recover, careful to hold your legs up so no seed goes to waste. “you’re serious? bout all this?” he has to ask.

“god how many times i’ve gotta say it!?” your eyebrows furrow and you finally open your eyes, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. he chuckles now, you’re starting to sound like him.

“alright, good then.” he hums and lays back, sprawling you out across him and holding you tight.

“thats all you’ve got to say? anything else you’ve been holding back on me?”

“nah,” you poke that little smile still on his face. “just can’t wait to see him.”

[m1nda0]

Omg they KNEWWW what they were doing with these close up clips of his eyes omgomgomg

[m1nda0]

The Boondock Saints (1999) |

Norman Reedus as Murphy MacManus