We’re all infected

Link to my masterlists and all the stories

Smoke...

     This is the beginning of season 9, and since I'm still watching it (for the very first time ^-^), the events might seem a bit strange, but I believe it's on point. I hope you enjoy it, and my sincere thanks to @dixondisease for the idea, I urgently needed one to start adding our lovely Daryl to my masterlist, you're amazing💗.

    Lust is a funny thing to feel, and it was a thousand times more intense when you barely had time to think, after all it seemed like the end of the world, but that didn't stop you from continuing to feel it, and it got worse after you met Daryl, a man with a big heart and little ambition, something you could describe as a wild animal trying to adapt to human law, to become domesticated.

It was difficult to get close to him, even from the beginning, when his bastard brother, Merle, was always around, bringing out the worst in the redneck, but after a while being alone with him became a huge challenge for you not to feel attracted to him, after all he's handsome, quiet, loyal to the group even with all the hardships, and it got worse when you saw him smoke: the way his lips adorned the newly lit cigarette, it seemed too hot to bear.

      Around that time, Alexandria was going through even worse things to rebuild itself after the fall of Negan's empire and the communities' hatred of having them as survival partners. Did you know that Daryl was furious—rightfully so—with Rick for having to share food with the Sanctuary workers? He thought it was ridiculous that after everything, he himself would still have to command.

This would take effect the next day, and he was apprehensive. He had never even taken control of anything before, let alone commanding almost an army of defeated people?

It was too much, even if Rick, who is a natural leader, could handle it. You kept believing he could do it, but it would be unfair not to remember that that place had already been part of one of the biggest torments of his life, so he was right not to want to stay there.

       Today, in particular, you were helping with replanting in the Kingdom, where Daryl had been for a while since it seemed closer to the Sanctuary than Alexandria. Your gaze went straight to him in front of the dining area, making you sigh as you watched him take a cigarette from the pack, put it to his thin, pink lips, light it, and take a drag... and, God, what a sight from hell, his lips, somewhat dry, adorned the cigarette, making you want to wet them.

       Was it wrong to think about sex after all that, or was it just a result of everyone needing peace and quiet?

      — You're cutting the tomato instead of removing the dead parts from the leaf.- Jesus' voice reaches you, making you blink and wipe the corner of your lips with the back of your glove. How pathetic, you were practically drooling.

       — Oh, yes... I am. Sorry, I thought something was wrong.

        — With Daryl?

        — No, no, something's behind him.

Gimme all your Daryl Dixon sex headcanons. I'm curious. And I wanna see what y'all think and what we all agree upon, lol. 🤭

Hit me up, pls!

Most parts of his body is on the bigger side and it makes him unsure while navigating sex cause he doesn't feel as big on the inside as he is on the outside which shows through his movements and how he acts during it.

Pairing: Daryl x Reader

Genre: mutual pining, fluff

Inspired by the @dixondisease fic idea! 🩵

Daryl felt his face contort into a grimace as he noticed the words that had slipped from his own mouth.

​"I love you."

​He had said it. He, who never believed that love existed and that he could feel it for someone. His eyes scanned every inch of your face, clueless as to what you were thinking. Daryl felt sweat trickle down his neck and his heart pounding in his chest. Why the hell ain't she sayin' nothin', just lookin' at me with an idiotic expression? He thought to himself.

​That old, blind frustration began to take hold of him. Daryl turned his back to you, his heavy steps crushing the dry leaves as he began to pace back and forth, both hands pulling at his own hair, elbows raised. He looked exactly like the Daryl of years ago, in those first weeks on the road: a cornered animal, huffing, mentally cursing himself for being so stupid as to let his guard down. He was already ready to march into the woods and disappear among the trees.

​"Daryl," you call out, your soft voice cutting through his turmoil.

​The sound of his name on your lips makes his gears lock. Daryl turns abruptly toward you, his eyes narrowed and his chest rising and falling forcefully. Before you can formulate the sentence that would make sense of that silence, he simply gives in to the impulse.

​He closes the space between you and unleashes all that anxiety on you. Daryl cups your face with his rough hands and crashes his lips against yours in a desperate, almost brutal clash. It was a hungry, clumsy kiss, tasting of tobacco mixed with the urgency of a man trying to silence the world —and his own mind by force. He presses you against his body as if he were holding onto a rope in the middle of a storm, using the heat of your mouth to erase the words he should never have said.

​When he finally pulls away, his lips separate from yours with a wet smack, both of you gasping for air. Daryl takes a shaky step back, unable to hold your gaze, his cheeks flushed as he quickly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to regain his tough-guy pose.

​"Forget it. Forget I said that shit," he spits the words, his voice hoarse and hurried, turning his back again to try and escape. "I shouldn't've..."

​"Daryl, stop!" you step forward, grabbing his arm before he disappears. Letting out a soft, emotional laugh, you say what the silence had been holding back: "I love you too, you idiot."

​The words hang in the air, and their effect is instantaneous. The tension that stiffened Daryl's shoulders vanishes all at once. He freezes in place, looking at your hand that still holds his arm, then slowly raises his eyes to your face, blinking as if trying to process if he heard correctly. His mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out. For the first time in his life, Daryl Dixon didn't seem to want to run away; he seemed to have finally found his way home.

​This time, when his lips touch yours again, the urgency is still there, but now there's a touch of certainty.

​"Better not change your mind, woman," his voice comes out hoarse, panting, trying to fight the smile forming on his face.

​Your eyes shine, gripping his arms tightly.

Plot: inspired by a fanfic idea posted by @dixondisease

Daryl has been used and abused by almost everyone and now he has you, he can quite believe it. It’s like he’s waiting for something to go wrong and doesn’t truly believe you’re real. (Established relationship, no specific era. No descriptions of reader, no use of y/n)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Fluff and Smut. Touching. Oral (female receiving). Body worship/exploration.

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Had part of this idea brewing for a while but the fic idea gave me the rest I needed!

Daryl this time!!! Inspired by an @dixondisease fan fic idea!

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

idea by @dixondisease !!

ꕥ Summary: quick little smutty piece abt reader getting into an argument with daryl who doesn't rlly know how to be a good bf yet so he makes it up to her.

ꕥ Warnings: cursing, smut, mention of gore

ꕥ Word Count: 1.3k

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿

Your breath calms as you watch the puffy, white clouds wash over each other in the blue sky. Your skin is itchy from the patch of scutch-grass that cradles your back. But, you don’t care, you wouldn’t trade this for anything even if every piece of you was in pain. Well, if you were presented with the choice of returning to your life before the outbreak over this, honestly you weren’t sure what you would choose. Going back would mean not feeling his fingers trace the back of your hand or the warmth of his breath against your neck on days like today where you and Daryl would disappear into the large field near Alexandria, sometimes spending hours pointing out the different shapes in the clouds and laughing. On others, he pins you to the grass, leaving you trapped under his weight as he kisses every square inch of your body. It’s good to feel understood, to have someone who ruthlessly adores you. You never had that, not even from your parents, and especially not from your father. Something tells you Daryl didn’t either, and by the way he flinches whenever you try to peel his shirt off his back, you know that whatever he endured was way worse. You don’t always talk, Daryl is known for being the quiet type since losing Merle, but on days when he does it never feels forced. 

Today is different, though. Neither of you wishes to speak, the result of a particularly nasty argument that started after breakfast.

You were cleaning up and running your mouth, pissed about something Rick said to you the day prior. You remember the way Daryl mumbled to himself as your soapy hands passed him dishes to dry off. “You wouldn’t know a bad day if it slapped you in the face.” 

He didn’t realize you heard him until you haphazardly dropped the plate you were scrubbing into the sink and stormed off down the hallway. All you could think about in that moment was your sister’s face before she took her last breath in your arms, or the way your mom’s entrails dangled from a walker’s mouth when your camp got overrun. He had no right to say that, and sadness quickly turned into anger when hot tears began streaming down your face. 

“C’mon, girl. Don’t be like that. Y’know I didn’t mean it.” He caught up to you in the hallway, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

At his touch, you turn promptly, spitting as you yelled back. “Fuck you!” It wasn’t the first time he made an offhanded comment like that, but it was the first time you decided you had more than enough of it.

“It’s the damn truth!” He was up in your face, throwing his arms around hysterically in a way that scared you as anger swallowed him whole. 

You didn’t reply, instead shrinking into your room to grab a few things before darting past him through the hall and out the front door. You’ve seen him angry before, but never has that anger been directed towards you. 

“Where ya goin’ girl?” He yelled from the balcony, pacing anxiously as he watched your silhouette walk down the street and towards the gate.

“Don’t fuckin’ follow me.” You yelled over your shoulder before signalling to Eugene to open the gate.

Eventually, Daryl found you lying on your back with tears streaming down your face at your secret spot in the field. A place where you both learned to love and promised to each other to never fight.

Instead of telling him to go away, you stayed still, quietly watching the clouds go by. He lies next to you and doesn’t dare speak out of fear of losing everything he’s worked so hard to build with you.

“You’re an asshole.” You finally whisper. 

He lays there contemplating before replying. “You’re right. I’m sorry – you shouldn’t let anyone talk to you like that, it ain’t right.” You can hear his voice break. “I don’t deserve you.” A sob escapes him and tears begin streaming down his face. You’ve never seen him cry like this in front of you.

You sit up, rolling over and stretching your arm on top of him. You brush a few fingers through his tangled hair and wipe a tear escaping the corner of his eye. He smiles, grabbing a hold of your head and pressing his lips against yours. 

“I’m so lucky to have you. Shouldn’t have to deal with me. I’m a dick.” He sighs.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so you think I shouldn’t forgive you so easily?” You plant a kiss on his forehead. “Think I should be harder on you?” You look down at him, fire lighting your eyes. “Well… if you wanna work for it, I know how you can make it up to me…”

He kisses you again, this time harder and his tongue slips between the crack between your lips as you smile. 

“You’re bad.” He chuckles, his face still wet from crying.

“And you’re an asshole. I’d say we’re made for each other.” You tease.

He forces you on your back, pinning your arms over your head with one hand as he kisses you deeply and spreads your thighs with his knee. You moan into his mouth, riding the pressure building between your legs from the friction of his blue jeans. His other hand comes down to unbutton your shorts and you cry into his mouth. Yes, god please keep going. His fingers dive under the soaken fabric of your underwear and swirl around your swollen clit. You squirm under his touch, whimpering into his mouth as the pressure grows unbearable. He pulls his head back and smiles down at you before kissing the tender skin between your earlobe and collarbone. 

“Yes, baby. Lemme show you what you deserve.” He growls into your ear. 

He pulls your underwear and shorts down completely and tosses them to the side before spreading your legs apart with his strong hands, leaving you exposed in the middle of this field. He nudges his nose against your aching core, and you try your best not to cry out of fear of attracting any walkers. He licks a thick stripe over your pussy and buries a finger inside as his tongue draws circles over your clit. Your back arches, and you bite down on the palm of your hand to keep yourself from screaming out his name. As his wrist begins to pump you faster, tears form in your eyes. You look up to the sky and watch it turn into a watercolour mess of blues and whites. It’s almost too much, but you knew better than to fight Daryl about this. The last time you did, he stopped completely, forcing you to finish the job as he sat back and watched. 

Before you know it every muscle in your body spasms and you cry out, whimpering his name as he pulls a long orgasm from you. You lay there for a while, contemplating rotting away completely in this field. Neither of you wish to go back but the midday heat becomes unbearable. As the sun reaches its peak you get dressed and start to make your way back to Alexandria with Daryl. Once you reach the gate, he unexpectedly takes you in his arms and carries you princess style into town. 

“Y’all aren’t fighting, are you?” Eugene can barely hide the confusion and concern on his face. “Cause when y’all left I thought someone wasn't comin’ back alive.”

“All good now.” You laugh, nuzzling your face into Daryl’s shoulder to hide your embarrassment. 

“Spaghetti tonight.” Daryl nods at Eugene. "Don't forget the booze.” 

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

idea creds to @dixondisease. just a little something i wrote out of boredom

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝

It’s not fucking fair. 

The way he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, that smug smirk that spreads across his face every time he catches you staring. It’s mockery, watching the way he talks to the other girls at the camp who seriously couldn’t care less about him when you spend every moment of every waking hour fighting to suppress that feeling that blooms in your belly whenever he flexes his biceps a certain way to fire his crossbow or grins his teeth over the squelch of his knife tearing into a walker’s skull. It’s an uphill battle, one that you always end up losing by rubbing your thighs together to stop that agonizing pull between your legs whenever he’s around. 

Today, however, was exceptionally awful. 

Today, Rick decided that the group would split up and raid a town down the road. 

Well, everyone except for you and Daryl. 

Instead, you got tasked with patrolling the perimeter, ensuring that neither the dead nor the living could ambush the group. So, from sunrise to sundown, you stood at a lookout together, taking turns scanning the treeline with a pair of binoculars. You almost screamed when his pinky grazed yours the first time he handed them over, and that anxiousness in your chest stayed even as the sun began to set in front of your eyes.

Those hours had passed slowly, until Daryl was decidedly bored enough to pluck a loose cigarette from his shirt pocket and light it between his fingers and lips. Between the adrenaline pulsing through your veins and the cloud of smoke that engulfed you both, your mind blurred and judgement fogged until you just couldn’t take it anymore. Giving in to his torment, you desperately burned your fingers on the cigarette hanging from his mouth before throwing it aside and kissing him deeply until the taste of nicotine spread to your mouth. 

You jumped when he kissed you back, wrapping both his arms around you and pulling you closer. He kissed you like he was starving. 

It was rhythmic, messy, and with every minute you spent not watching the road, the more that sensation grew in your core. Selfishly, you grinded softly into his thigh, letting out a dull whimper into his mouth and squeezed a hand around his toned bicep.

“Jesus, girl. We’re s’posed to be watchin’.” He suppressed a nervous laugh. “Rick’d kill us both if he saw us right now.”

“Don’t care. Need you. Now.” You replied breathlessly.