thinking about virgin!daryl befoe he gets with you. and all he knows is you make his dick hard, and his body is burning up.
before you offically get together though… oh pray for his right hand. every time you pull that gun on a walker, or a bruise that turns your skin just the right color shows….
he feels guilty but does that stop him? no. he jerks all eight inches of him, slow at first and by the end hes got an ache in his wrist.
when you finally start dating… my goodness. hes never been with a woman that heats up his heart and body like you do. but just like him, youve been horny.
so of course now that youre together you start dragging your fingers over his chest, hips, biceps, cock. really anything you can get your hands on.
the day you finally let the lust bubble over is when you walk in on him cleaning his cross bow. arms bulging, thighs tight in his jeans… cigarette in between his lips, hair all in his eyes. and the veins over his hands, as they move meticulously.
you step into his cell, snapping the curtain shut before saying a word. he looks up all slow and nonchalant, eyes dragging slowly from his crossbow to you,
your heart is beatng, and theres this burning in your cunt. and you just have to have him.
you take 3 quick strides and pull the bow from his hands.
you show him exactly what it means to fuck. and i mean TRULY fuck.
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You were looking for Daryl after having just returned back from the Hilltop literally moments ago. You stopped at your shared house only to look for him, and having found it empty, left your bag there and took off in search of him. Carol said that he was here, as he was helping fix up the wall only an hour ago. So he was around here somewhere.
A trickle of sweat dripped down your chest as the hot sun beamed down on you relentlessly, making you need to squint your eyes to see who was approaching you.
"Hey, you're back!" Spencer grins as he gets closer.
"Yeah, thankfully. Couldn't stand one more minute of Gregory," you chuckle. You typically try to avoid Spencer for two reasons: one, he's annoying; and two, Daryl thinks he has a thing for you. You aren't too sure but regardless, out of respect for Daryl, you keep interactions to a minimum whenever possible.
"You're looking for Daryl, right?" He asks, and you smile sheepishly.
"You seen him?"
"Actually yeah, right there." He nods his head off toward the north end of the wall and sure enough, there is Daryl, sitting on the curb, watching the two of you.
"Thanks, Spencer," you smile and head over toward him.
All the while, Daryl had been watching the interaction. Annoyed with Spencer, but happy with you. He knew that you tried to keep your distance from him to make him for more comfortable, although he never asked you to and you never outright said it. He still felt the twinge of insecurity sometimes, but you always reassured him with your actions. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you leave Spencer hastily and walk over to him.
The last three days without you felt like torture, constantly worrying if you were okay, missing you. Watching you walk toward him felt like a piece of him returning, and he hated himself for feeling so completely whipped, but he couldn't help it. He loved you so much.
"Hey, you okay?" you call out as you approach Daryl where he sat on the curb, leaning on his knees. He squints up at you, an unreadable expression on his face. He doesn't look mad, or happy. Just thoughtful. "Sorry about him. Thankfully he didn't try to keep talking to me." You roll your eyes, shifting your body so that your shadow cast over him and blocked the sun from his eyes.
Daryl notices the subtle gesture and his solemn look makes something inside of you stir like a schoolgirl with a crush. He loved how you were always thinking about him - doing little things like that for him.
"Well? Are you gonna give me a hug or do I have to beg?" you tease, nudging the archer with your sneaker. "I've missed you like crazy," you continue, admiring how handsome he looks in his typical Daryl outfit. His hair blows slightly in the light breeze, cooling you off ever so slightly.
Finally, he stands up, still not having said a word, and pulls you into his chest. You feel like something is off, but say nothing and return his hug. His arms are tight arounds your shoulders and you wrap your arms snug around his belly, breathing in his scent - outdoorsy and like cigarette - but to you, smelled like home. He doesn't make any move to pull away like he usually would when you are outdoors (he isn't into pda), but instead kisses the top of your head, his scratchy beard tickling you.
You pull your head back from his chest just enough to look up into his eyes, furrowing your brows. "You okay, hun?" You ask, worried. "Did something happen?"
"Nah," his first word. "I just love ya, s'all," his lips twitch up into a brief smile, rubbing his thumb on your cheek. Your cheek heat up into a blaze and you grin uncontrollably.
"I love you too, Daryl. So much," you smile shyly. He nods slightly and bites his lip. "You sure you're okay?" throws his one arm over your shoulder loosely, starting to guide you back toward the house. "
"C'mon, 'm sure yer exhausted," he says.
"I am. You wanna rub my feet?" you tease, grinning up at him. He scoffs playfully and you wrap your left arm around his torso as you walk.
daryl dixon eating you out like a starved caveman?
SWEET AS HONEY d.dixon
☆ WORD COUNT - 1.4K
DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER
☆ SUMMARY - daryl finally gets his mouth right where he wants it and he'll tolerate nothing but obedience.
☆ WARNINGS - smut, porn without plot, pussy eating, cum eating, fingering, overstimulation, dom!daryl, sub!reader, praise kink, dacryphilia, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷
some would define heaven as a makeshift world on top of the clouds, perhaps religion was involved, the very god of their world standing in front of them.
daryl dixon would describe heaven as his head between your thighs, your sickly sweet wetness dripping down your cunt and coating his lips.
you'd lost count, by now, how many rounds it'd been.
once daryl had you laid against your back, head between your thighs, it was over for you. you could squirm all you wanted but you wouldn't be done until daryl said you were done. even if you were quivering against him, tears glossing over your eyes.
"stop fuckin' squirming." gruff voice against your swelling cunt as his lips moved, working wonders against you.
he'd undressed you down so you were merely clad in a baby pink bra, your panties long removed and your pretty white socks against your feet. "daryl!" your voice was bleak though it was but a scream. "c-can't!" back arching against the mattress beneath you.
his face slowly rose from your aching pussy, fingers plunging in and out of you mercilessly. "can't take what, huh?" you tried to focus on his words though your eyes were rolling, the feeling of his fingers becoming too much. "can't take my mouth, that it, sweetheart?"
you nodded dumbly, truthfully with no idea of what he was speaking about. all you knew was that all the pleasure was going straight to your cunt.
the man let out the smallest of chuckles, his head finding it's way between your legs once more. your cheeks were flushed pink, the feeling of his tongue grazing across your clit. everything was so messy, filthy even. your juiced slid right onto his fingers, creating a type of white circle as his tongue lapped you up.
this was his favourite place to be.
when his face was between your legs, tasting your tangy juices that slipped onto his tongue, fucking you dumb with his fingers. well, he couldn't quite move his mind to anything else.
the pretty moans that left your strained lungs, face all pink and flushed, embarrassed of the pornographic sounds that you couldn't keep contained.
though, daryl liked you loud.
it was like music to his ears. he was a downright animal unable to be contained. he quickly pulled his fingers out of you earning a long whine from your lips. it was quickly replaced with another moan as his hands moved to push your thighs backwards, shoving his face into your pussy.
you practically squealed.
the high pitched noise caused his lips to perk, gentle chuckle falling from his lips sending vibrations throughout your entire body.
his two palms were set on your thighs, pushing them back as far as he could while his tongue lapped up your juices, coating your pussy in his wet saliva.
you whined and moaned, your hips moving against his face as he lapped and licked at your cunt. "so good." he mumbled, returning his face against you. "s' sweet."
sweet as honey.
a familiar tension built up in your stomach, whining as tears coated your eyes in pleasure. "'mmnnh― daryl!"
"good girl." he mumbled, doing his best to keep his mouth against you. it deemed near impossible, he just loved running his mouth when he got you like this. "let go f'me."
you barely registered his words, thighs shaking and pulling away from him. his large palms kept you grounded, holding you in the position you were in, lips suckling against your clit and lapping you up.
finally, the tension in your stomach broke.
you let out a string of moans, trying your hardest to keep them quiet. that was impossible as his tongue kept moving against you, letting you ride out your high in his mouth, juices falling onto his tongue.
his mouth moved, practically making out with your cunt as he took in every single bit you had to offer, wetness coating his chin and his lips. he didn't care for any mess that you'd make, knowing he'd clean it up with his tongue, had you asked.
your chest rose and fell as his mouth moved away from your cunt, eyes looking down at you.
you'd gone so many rounds, eyes low and heavy, red even. you were tired, that was for sure. your swollen pussy feeling almost cold without his mouth against you.
you watched as he lifted a hand to wipe his mouth, softly gazing down at you.
no words were spoken, all you could feel were his fingers gently tracing up your body, finding your clit. "can you do another?" the whisper more of a command.
you shook your head, tears instantly filling your desperate eyes. "c-can't, daryl― 's too―" cutting yourself off with a moan as his fingers slipped into your sopping hole.
"gonna be a good girl 'n take another?" rephrasing the question, knowing you'd rephrase your answer. "c'mon, sweetheart, know you can take another one. 's a good girl."
you could take another one. perhaps you'd only whined and mouthed about it because you longed to hear that sweet gentle voice, coaxing you into it as his fingers slipped into you.
even so, you found yourself clenching around his fingers as soon as they entered your little hole. your pussy was red raw, swollen. it was sopping, shaking even. "d-daryl." voice quivering as tears coated your eyes.
daryl brought his free hand up, quickly wiping away the little tears staining your pretty pink cheeks. "'s a good girl, you can take it." his lips found your neck, gentle kisses pressing against your skin as his fingers slowly pumped into you. "you gon' take it."
it was as if a band inside of him had broke.
daryl mercilessly pumped his fingers in an out of you, scissoring them against your gummy walls and allowing you to squirm in on yourself, moans louder than ever.
your eyes kept rolling, fluttering shut and opening again. your hands pawed at his arms and shoulders, trying to keep yourself grounded on anything you could.
his scent.
his touch.
his everything.
he filled you so completely, having you reeling at the feeling of his fingers inside of you.
he did it often, never did it feel the same.
you screamed in pleasure, chanting his name like a prayer and struggling to breathe.
his fingers didn't stop the momentum, rapidly fucking you silly as you tried your hardest to keep yourself in the moment, mind reeling. the wetness of his tongue from before along with the juices from your many orgasms had squelching noises bouncing off the walls. "hear that, baby?" his voice high pitched, cooing at you. "hear how good 'm makin' you feel?"
you nodded dumbly once more, not a notion of the words leaving his mouth. your cheeks flushed at the realisation of the sounds, the wet squelching from your aching pussy. you were embarrassed, shy as you tried your best to keep the heat from your cheeks.
"'s.. 's so good." the mumbles that left your lips were that of nervousness, eyes looking to find the same electric blues you'd longed to see so much.
his face was covered by little hair, gazing down at you as though you were a doll, one for his pleasure.
"yeah?" questioning you as if you could speak. "daryl makin' you feel good, huh?"
a nod from you as your eyes fluttered shut, whining and whimpering at the feeling of his fingers, the palm of his hand slapping against your clit with every pump, having all the stimulation you could ever need.
his tattooed hand grasped your chin between two fingers, shoving it his way and causing your eyes to open, still heavy. "eyes on me, baby." a whisper of his voice. "wanna watch you cum."
his words did it for you.
the band snapped again, yet another orgasm falling over you again. your eyes rolled back, hands pawing at the man who steadied you, watching your whole body shake. he liked taking notice, noting exactly how your body twitched and moved.
"good girl, that's it, s' good." mumbling the sweet praises as you fell apart in his hands for what felt like the hundredth time that night. "yeah, baby, that's it." your whimpers filling his ears.
main directory daryl x reader directory garden archive
summary: since the start of the apocalypse, you'd never taken a moment to relax, always preparing for what could come next in the form of staying up late on watch and never taking a single sip of alcohol. now, the group had arrived at alexandria, giving everyone an opportunity to unwind--including you.
pairing: daryl dixon x fem!reader
era: alexandria, pre-saviors
genre: fluff
word count: 1k this started as a drabble but I can never stfu so here we are lol)
warnings: swearing, drinking, reader is in her mid-20s at least, reader isn't blackout drunk but she's drunk enough to not give af about how goofy she's being
author's note: this is just a little something i came up with after they continually played mr. brightside at the gym a few times. this wasn’t originally supposed to be the next thing on the docket, but i couldn’t get it out of my head, so i had to make it happen. reader is tipsy enough that she doesn’t care that she’s acting like a goof, but she’s not drunk enough that she’s slurring or stumbling over her words, if that makes sense. apologies for not really being around lately. life has been life-ing & i’m doing my best. any asks, messages, tagged content, etc. will be answered soon. thank you for being here 🖤
“It started out with a kiss! How did it end up like this?”
Your voice carried through your open living room window, tipsy lyrics standing out against the infamous vocals of Brandon Flowers. A few passerbys stopped to stare, some snickering to themselves and continuing on their way, while others stuck around, eyebrows cocked and looking uncertain. Soon, a few turned into several, then several turned into a small crowd. And that caught the archer’s attention.
“T’hell’s goin’ on?” he mumbled, kicking up dirt as he picked up the pace to a speed walk. The group forming outside your home didn’t mean anything good, as far as he was concerned. He could barely make out what you were saying, your words blending into a cacophony of chaos.
“It was only a kiss! It was only a kiss!”
As he got closer, the loud barrage of noises morphed into coherent vocals, and the joy in your voice was enough to provide him some relief. At least you weren’t in trouble.
“But she’s touching his chest now! He takes off her dress now!”
“S’a damn play-by-play?” He clambered up the steps of your front porch, now able to make out the music underneath your singing. He watched you move back and forth between the gap in the curtain like you were running in circles.
What the hell were you getting up to?
He swung the front door open, the handle hitting the wall with a ‘thud’ before bouncing off. Peering into the living room, he spotted Maggie and Michonne on the couch, leaning back with goofy smiles on their faces and watching you put on the performance of a lifetime. You were traipsing around the open space, alternating between various arm twirls, silly little kicks, and swinging your hips to the beat. His baby blues drifted from you to an open bottle of merlot on the coffee table.
Ah, yes. There was the answer to your unbridled chaos.
The floorboards creaked under his boots, pulling the ladies’ attention away from their evening entertainment. “What’s she—“
“She’s all yours,” Maggie interrupted, resting her glass next to the now-empty bottle.
As they stood up, his gaze darted back and forth between them, then to you, then back to them. “When’d this start?” he asked, nodding in your direction.
“About twenty minutes ago,” Michonne explained. The trio watched you prance in circles, balancing the glass in your hand and managing not to spill a drop despite your inebriated state. “First, it was Jolene, then the Cupid Shuffle—twice. Now it’s Mr. Brightside. She’s been belting it since the song started.”
“Could hear ‘er halfway down the damn street,” Daryl scoffed, a hint of laughter laced throughout.
You spun close to the record player in the corner, your hand almost colliding with its wooden plinth. “‘Cause I just can’t look! It’s killing me!”
“Good luck, Dixon,” Maggie teased, following Michonne to the front door. “You’re gonna need it.”
He rolled his eyes playfully, scoffing again. “The hell ya think got me this far?”
As the two women let themselves out, you danced toward him, taking another sip from your glass. A small drop dribbled out of the corner of your mouth and down your jaw to your neck. You were unfazed, though, looking up at him with the biggest grin he’d ever seen on you and a twinkle in your eye that gave the stars some hefty competition.
“Ya been drinkin’, Peach?” he asked, pretending he didn’t already know the answer. He wiped away the stray drop with his thumb, his calloused skin heaven against yours.
“Ssssh.” You pressed a finger to his lips, tapping it a few times like that would emphasize your point. “You’re interrupting my song.”
The look on his face was the perfect mix between fond and flabbergasted. “Gotta lotta damn nerve there, sweetheart.”
You continued your impromptu karaoke session, ignoring his attitude. “Jealousy! Turning saints into the sea!”
“Jus’ gun’…” He carefully plucked the glass from your fingers, ensuring your grip didn’t tighten around the bowl before pulling it away and setting it down next to Maggie’s. But not before swigging the last of it back for himself.
For your sake, of course. You were cut off for the evening.
“Swimming through sick lullabies!” You swayed before him, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other with a light bounce in your step. You looked at him expectedly, hoping he would join you, even though you knew he wouldn’t. “Choking on your alibi!”
As much as Daryl wanted to scoop you up, carry you off to bed, and prepare to help you nurse tomorrow’s impending hangover, he didn’t move. Didn’t dare take a single step from the sight of you before him, giggly and flushed and at ease–something he’d never seen before. The smile on his lips was small, barely noticeable, but it reflected a wide, toothy grin in his eyes.
From the day you met Daryl back at the quarry camp, you’d been on edge, wary of every person you came in contact with and ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. Since arriving at Alexandria a few days prior, you’d been very high-strung—more than normal, somehow. You’d barely taken a deep breath since stepping within the sanctity of the walls and refused to touch anything other than water. Hell, you barely touched that.
Alert at all times, you’d been saying for months. No distractions. Gotta be ready for anything at any moment.
Now here you were, loose and carefree, like there weren’t hundreds of walkers outside. Like you hadn’t been walking around as a complete anxious mess since the outbreak started. Like things were stable. Like you were stable.
Watching you finally relax and unwind, having one of the simplest human experiences–drinking a little too much and singing a little too loud–was everything.
“Least ya havin’ fun,” he mused, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms, propping one foot up behind him. His boot would surely leave a dark print behind, but that was future Daryl’s problem.
“But it’s just the price I pay! Destiny is calling me!”
His chuckle was sickly sweet. “Oh yeah? What’s it sayin’?”
“Open up my eager eyes!” you sang through a fit of giggles, disregarding his question. For your grand finale, you lunged into his arms, dipping yourself for extra dramatic effect. “'Cause I’m Mr. Brightside!”
Daryl couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and hearty as you threw your head back. “Ya sure are, sunshine.”
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Warnings: Emotions++ Angst++ and obviously a bit of fluff.
Sleep eluded you, a relentless unease gripping your heart. Emotions churned within you, a chaotic whirlwind of anger, anxiety, and an overwhelming urge to scream and weep. Nothing could calm the storm inside; you paced the room, fists clenched, as hot tears scorched your cheeks.
Daryl had always been your anchor, urging you to seek him out whenever darkness loomed. Now, standing at his door, your heart hammered against your ribcage, the pulse throbbing in your ears, a searing tightness in your throat. You nudged the door open, the moonlight spilling over Daryl’s slumbering form—bare-chested, the duvet resting at his hips, one arm tucked beneath his head.
“Daryl,” you whispered, your voice a fractured whimper. Climbing onto the bed, you straddled him, stirring him from sleep. A flicker of panic crossed his features before recognition dawned, and his arms enveloped you, pulling you into a seated embrace, your legs encircling his waist.
“What’s t'matter, sunshine?” His voice was laced with concern. Words failed you; only sobs broke through as you buried your face in his chest. Daryl’s soothing hush, the gentle sway of his embrace, and the tender strokes on your head helped to calm you.
“Let it al'out, girl. I’m here; you’re going to be okay.” His reassurance was a lifeline, your emotions fading away in the safety of his hold. He clung to you, a protective cocoon, and that embrace was the last thing you remembered before waking up, still cradled in his arms as morning light crept in.
Summary: Daryl isn't so good with the words, but you get some from him anyway. And more besides.
"What do you see when you look at me?" I demanded, staring at the herd instead of at him. "Just another person who needs saving?"
Beside me, he shifted, shoulder shrugging as he tugged at the strap of his crossbow. We sat on the roof, both of us perched on the edge of the abyss and trying not to fall.
That was me, at least, I thought as I watched the river below. I didn't know what he thought. I never knew what he thought. So quiet, so close-mouthed, as he called himself. Made him easy to talk to. Not so easy to understand.
"You don't need savin'," he said quietly. "Never have."
"Bullshit, but thanks, I guess." We sat in silence until I gestured, frustrated. "So? What do you see?"
He huffed like he was annoyed. Like the question was stupid. "See you, dumbass.. What you think I see?"
"I don't know, or I wouldn't be asking. Quiet is fine. I like being around you. But sometimes, you have to open your mouth and tell people what you think of them."
He stared at me. "Why? Show ya, don't I?"
I blinked, groaned, and shook my head. "Never mind. Forget I asked."
I swung my legs in, climbing to my feet. I crossed the roof, halfway to the door, when his voice stilled my feet.
"See a survivor. See a fighter. See the most- most interestin' person left on this damn rock. See someone who looks at me and don't see trash. See my best friend. I see… shit. How the hell am I supposed to use words to say it?"
He sounded pissed off, but that was just Daryl. I turned slowly, hardly breathing, to find him stalking soundlessly toward me. I felt pinned in place, prey before the hunter. He stopped, so close I wondered if he could hear my pulse thundering in my veins.
"Cain't say it," he whispered. "Cause there ain't words. But if I ain't showin' it, I guess I'll try harder."
He took my face in his hands, crushing his mouth to mind in a move that froze and burned all at the same time. I fell into it, into his lips and the faint cigarette taste; into his arms as my knees went weak and the only thing holding me up was his hands on my cheeks and his body now pressed against mine.
"I see you," he whispered against my lips. "Ain't that enough?"
