Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Warnings/tags: 18+, oral sex (f! receiving), pinv, fingering, alcohol use, missionary, nipple play, praise, prone bone, established relationship, multiple orgasms
Summary: Daryl thought you were dead, you were supposed to be dead, but stumbling across a campsite one night has proved his suspicions wrong.
a/n: iâve been rewatching twd and i got the sudden urge to write about my bbg daryl.
Daryl thought the day couldn't get any worse, after all the bullshit that's happened to him, between the tension and bickering within the group, the walkers that seem to just keep multiplying while slowly closing in on them wherever they go and his plan to go hunt getting interrupted by meaningless chores, he really thought he could at least catch some sort of break. But when has Daryl Dixon ever been that lucky?
While tracking the buck that could've given him and his group something good to fill their stomachs with and keep them running on something that isn't empty fumes and barely a couple bites of some squirrel, it starts to rain, hard.
The rain barely starts off with a light drizzle, refreshing against his sweaty skin at first with the Georgia sun beating down on him even through the trees, but mother nature decides she doesn't even want to wait another two seconds before starting to pour rain all over, drenching his hair and clothes.
A grunt leaves Daryl's lips, a sarcastic great in that silent language of his. The rain pelts against his skin, but being the determined man he is, he keeps searching for the buck. He puts all his focus into this one task, wanting to get this kill and head back to the others, get out of this damn rain, and maybe warm up and put some fresh clothes on, but the cruel universe had other sick plans for him.
A curse leaves his lips as he loses the trail, hell, he can barely even see properly two feet in front of him with the horrible downpour and the sun starting to set. He needs to get out of this damn rain, and fast.
He tracks through the woods, keeping his eye out for any kind of shelter to get out of this godforsaken rain. He walks for what feels like an eternity, his body slowly starting to feel weighed down from carrying his crossbow and backpack.
Just before Daryl can lose all of his hope of finding somewhere to lie low, he spots a campsite in the distance, no obvious movement of anybody or anything within the site. The weather mixed with the shitty day he's had has him not even considering to second guess the situation before slowly making his way towards the campsite.
He lifts his crossbow, second nature to him by now in a world so cruel as he sweeps the area. It seems almost too good to be true. A fairly sized tent, barely holding against the rain but still fighting nonetheless. Some cans of food, mostly peaches, and some half-empty packs of ammo scattered like somebody left in a hurry.
A harsh clap of thunder is heard through the woods, the weather growing angrier and more violent as time goes by.
As much as Daryl wants to make sure this place is truly abandoned and that there's zero chance anybody will come back, he really just wants to dry off and rest, needing a peaceful moment to himselfâ as peaceful as he can get in a situation as fucked as this.
He snags a can of peaches and unzips the tent before slipping inside, nothing inside but a worn sleeping bag, if you could even call it that now with how ratty it is. A small sigh of relief leaves Daryl's lips, feeling as at ease as he can be now that he's out of the unforgiving weather.
He decides he'll wait until it passes, try hunting for some more game for the others when he deems it safe, not wanting to return empty handed when he promised a meal. The crossbow rests in his lap, finger still hovering near the trigger just in case. He doesn't know if somebody is going to return, or if walkers will decide to look for their next meal near the campsite.
The knife in his hand stabs into the can as he works it open, taking a long sip of the sugary syrup inside before digging in, practically inhaling the surprisingly juicy peaches. He doesn't bother using his knife to bring the food to his eager mouth, instead choosing to eat with his bare hands, slurping at the syrup and finishing the can off.
Daryl tosses the can to the side, not bothering with properly picking up after himself. Why would it matter if he was out here all alone in the rain? Not like anybody is here to complain about it.
The rain powers on for what seems like forever, seeming like it's never going to let up it's weeping fury against the land. Now having food in his belly and his damp clothes slowly drying, Daryl finds himself feeling more exhausted than he would ever admit to anyone, not even himself.
The pounding of the raindrops against the tent is oddly relaxing in its own harsh inconvenient way. The tense muscles within Daryl's body start to sag, the sounds of nature doing its thing starting to lull him into a peaceful sleep he can no longer fight against, letting himself have a moment of peace for himself, feeling as if he deserved it after the day he had been put through when all he wanted was to find something to eat.
Daryl all but jolts awake as he hears a rustle outside of the tent. The rain has let up, the woods now engulfed by the eerily beautiful darkness of the stars and moon. All he is able to make out within the darkness is a faint glare of a flashlight, a shadow approaching with an occasional grunt, the sound of dragging being heard outside of the tent.
With one quick movement Daryl is suddenly wide awake, grabbing his crossbow and getting it adjusted, ready to defend himself if the situation calls for it. He hopes it's a walker, but what walker is wandering through the woods carrying a damn flashlight?
The footsteps get closer and he hears the familiar click of a gun getting ready to be used. Fuck. Daryl thinks to himself. He could be fucked, so unbelievably fucked right now. He doesn't know if it's just the one person or if a whole group has come back to find their camp defiled, but he doubts it considering the lack of belongings scattered around.
Daryl notices the rustle of the flap of the tent, the familiar hiss of the zipper being pulled, whoever showed up opening the tent, about to get a clear sight of the intruder known as Daryl who just wanted to get out of the rain and find something for his group to eat.
Before either of them could fully react or process the situation, the tent flap opens and Daryl pulls the trigger of his crossbow, causing a sharp sound to leave the other person before they strike.
The tent rustles against the frantic fighting, punches getting thrown and curses leaving lips, weapons forgotten for a moment as they fight almost blindly against the darkness of the night.
Based on the sounds leaving the lips of the other survivor, Daryl notices she's a woman. The revelation causes him to hesitate for a moment, giving the woman the perfect opportunity to get a good swing in, taking her chance before pinning him down, pistol pointed at his forehead.
The two of them pant harshly as the woman roughly presses the barrel of the gun against his forehead. "Christâ I surrender" Daryl coughs out as he tries to make out the face of the woman above him, only able to make out one of his arrows hanging in her arm.
The woman pauses for a moment at the sound of his gruff voice. "Don't move." the woman huffs out, gun still raised and pointed at him with her finger against the trigger. Daryl doesn't move, clearly not in a position to argue.
"The hell are you doin'?" the woman huffs out, wanting to know why daryl just so happened to be hiding out inside of her tent. It takes his mind a moment to process but it slowly realizes that it knows that voice belonging to the woman, a voice he hasn't heard in so long.
He says your name with a different kind of roughness within his voice. A beat of silence passes and the gun goes slightly slack against his forehead, taking in a good look at his face.
"Daryl?" you barely manage to speak, after taking a deeper look at the man you're currently pointing a gun at while the bolt of his crossbow is still in your arm, confirming that it is you who's camp he just made himself all cozy inside of. His fiancé, the only woman to ever make it through his gruff exterior, the same woman he thought he lost years ago.
A beat of silence passes between you two as your brains begin to catch up with the fact that you're in front of each other after all of the lonely nights and grieving. You slowly lower the gun, slowly climbing off of him and letting out a wince at the feeling of the arrow still in your arm.
You and Daryl have been together for years, knowing each other as kids in the trailer park, slowly growing into a relationship that led to him asking you to marry him, no doubt in his mind that you were the only girl for him, but the chance to make the marriage official was interrupted by the outbreak.
You were working a shift at that dead end diner, counting the tip jar as the quiet hum of the radio kept your ears occupied in the otherwise silent space. The radio cuts out from some old-school country song as an emergency news broadcast came over the radio, startling you slightly and causing you to drop a penny.
Everything else after that was a blur, not knowing what to do or where to go. Daryl searched for you in the beginning, never leaving even a pebble unturned if it could've told him anything about where you could've been. He searched until his body ached and his voice turned hoarse, until Merle had to actually shake him out of it before he drove himself crazy.
Now here you are, right in front of him with a wound that he inflicted onto you, even if it was before he knew it was you and he was just defending himself. The woman he loves more than life, so much so that he convinced himself you were dead so it was easier to cope with the fact that he wasn't going to see you again.
Instead of a happy reunion with kisses and hugging like most couple would do after being separated for so long, Daryl immediately goes into nurse mode, attending to your wound.
"This is gonna hurt like a bitch" he gruffly warns as he firmly grabs onto the arrow. You take a deep breath to calm yourself for what's about to happen, shoving a bandana in your mouth to muffle the scream you know is leaving your lips with zero doubt once he pulls it out.
You brace yourself as much as you can before you feel the sickening tug of the arrow getting pulled out of your bicep. The bandana does little to muffle the sound you let out, Daryl wincing even though he's the one inflicting the pain upon you.
He quickly removes it, grumbling under his breath in that quiet concerned way he always does. He disinfects the wound the best he can before dressing it. It isn't a pretty job, but it's enough to keep you from bleeding out or getting a gnarly infection for now.
The both of you continue to slightly pant, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. For a moment the both of you stay silent, eyes locked onto each other like neither of you can believe that you're sitting right in front of each other.
After what feels like an eternity Daryl lets out a rough sound before gently dropping his head against your uninjured shoulder, strong arms wrapping around your waist. Your hand instantly moves up to cup the back of his head, feeling those dark strands you love so much. The two of you hold each other, just staying together in this quiet moment.
The fire crackles as the two of you start to fill your stomaches. The buck Daryl lost while tracking earlier was found by you, explaining the grunting he heard when you first returned to your makeshift home. Hunting is one of the many skills daryl has tried to teach you, not because he ever thought you'd need the skill, just sharing his interests with you in a way to show his love.
You stand up once you finish your portion of the meat, wandering into your tent for a moment before reappearing.
"look what I got" You say with a small giggle as you hold up a bottle of almost full whiskey, some random brand you found when you stumbled across a liquor store while looking for more supplies.
"Well i'll be damned" Daryl lets out that quiet rough chuckle of his and reaches out to grab the bottle, examining the label like it was something made of gold, which isn't very far off in today's world.
Without asking Daryl pops off the cap and takes a long swig of the amber liquid, his shoulders visibly relaxing like you remember seeing the many years ya'll have been together.
Taking a seat on the log next to him he hands the bottle over without comment. A soft sigh leaves your lips before you take a swig, praying it'll help with the ache in your left bicep. The adrenaline worn off now, causing a persistent pain and ache where he shot you.
The conversation flows easy like its only been a day without seeing each other, compared to how long it's actually been.
The two of you continue to drink until the bottle is almost empty. Daryl always loved that you could keep up with him and his drinking, a bonding ritual the two of you have came to love since you were both sixteen and hiding in your bedroom while your parents argued.
With whiskey flowing through the both of your veins the mood shifts. Alcohol has always made Daryl horny, you not any better.
His eyes look at you, taking you in with that same admiring yet lustful stare of his. Unable to take it anymore he decides to close the distance, with all the boldness a drunk man can have as he leans in and kisses you.
The kiss barely starts off gentle before his lips start to move with a hunger that can only come from missing somebody every damn day.
You let out a soft moan into the kiss, your hand raising from your lap to cup his cheek. His tongue slides against yours in that familiar way, the way he kisses always making your cunt start off with its dull ache of need that never fully leaves around him.
His hands roam your body as if he's remembering every inch of you that has kept him awake more nights than he can count. A rough groan leaves his lips as you instinctually press into the feeling of his rough hands, silent permission for him to touch.
The more you kiss the more the two of you realize that it isn't enough, months of pent up need mixed with a reunion of lovers has the two of you hot in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol.
Daryl wraps his arms around your waist and stands with a gently tug. Your legs instantly wrap around him as he walks towards the tent, being careful with you and your injury despite the need coursing through his veins.
He lowers you down gently onto that well-loved sleeping bag of yours without breaking the kiss, his hands roaming your body before gently starting to knead at your breasts through the fabric of your shirt.
A drunken and breathless moan leaves your lips at the feeling, hands moving to your shirt to tug it off, but before you even get it past your navel he gently stills your hands with his own, muttering a small 'lemme do it, baby' as he gently works the shirt up and off of your body.
Your chest slightly heaves as you lay there in your worn jeans and bra, Daryl making quick work to remove the fabric so he can admire your breasts properly.
With a gentle tug at the fabric, your bra falls away, revealing your breasts and your rosy nipples pebbled in the dark of the tent.
Without hesitation, Daryl kisses from your jaw down to the valley between your breasts before catching one nipple between his eager lips. He teasingly flicks his tongue against the tight peak while gently twisting and pinching at the other.
You're easily reduced to a mess of moans with every tug and suck. The lack of touch throughout the months, the alcohol, and him making you embarrassingly wet already. Soft mewls leave your lips as you squirm under him, feeling as if you could have an orgasm from him only playing with your nipples.
A rough sound leaves Daryl's lips, vibrating against your nipple and causing your back to arch. He can tell how needy you are, the flush of your cheeks and the sounds leaving your lips giving him the clear signs he knows how to look for.
Daryl pulls away from your nipple with a soft pop sound, teasingly blowing cold air onto it just to watch you flinch before kissing his way down your torso towards the waistband of your jeans with open-mouth kisses, his kisses needy and reverent.
His hands make quick work of the button of your jeans, popping them open and undoing the zipper with his teeth as he tugs them down your legs. You raise your legs to help him, the fabric quickly getting thrown aside.
"Christâ so wet and I ain't even touched ya proper" he says with an almost mocking tone as he takes in the sight of your damp panties; already so wet just from him playing with your nipples.
You're too drunk to come up with the usual rebuttal that usually rolls off your tongue around him, the only sound leaving your lips is an almost pathetic whine.
Daryl reaches down with those big hands of his and gently pries your thighs open, kissing at the sensitive skin as he makes his way towards where you're dripping for him, his stubble rough against the soft skin of your thighs.
He buries his nose into your cunt, a rough groan leaving his lips at the scent of you that he's addicted to. He teasingly nuzzles into your folds through your panties, nose catching on your clit for a moment, causing your thighs to twitch and a sudden surprised moan that leaves your lips.
Daryl's lips move to attack your thighs in kisses as he tugs those damp cotton panties down. He takes in the sight of your cunt, reaching out to gently spread your folds so he can admire all of you.
"This all for me?" he asks as he takes in the sight of arousal practically dripping from your hole, your little clit now swollen and peeking out from beneath its hood like it's silently begging for attention.
"Haven't showered-" you softly warn after a moment, knowing this is about to lead to him burying his face into your cunt, unable to wash up proper due to the conditions of the world, but Daryl couldn't care less.
He lets out a sound, almost annoyed at the warning, he doesn't care, daryl would eat you out any day, any time of the month, the feeling of you coming undone against his tongue being one of his favorite things.
With a firmer spread of your folds, Daryl presses a teasing kiss to your clit, causing your hips to buck as a sharp gasp leaves your lips. That shit-eating smirk of his forms on his lips before he fully dives in, tongue running through and lapping at your slit, taking in the taste of you he's been missing.
His tongue gently swirls around your clit but it feels like he's relentlessly sucking due to how sensitive you are after the lack of orgasms recently. Your hips squirm against his face as soft mewls leave your lips, but he firmly presses down on your hips, holding you still as he catches your clit between his lips, giving firm sucks while teasingly flicking his tongue.
You sound almost fucked out already, those beautiful sounds he's addicted to hearing leaves your lips as he continues to lap at your clit.
After a moment he gives you some mercy, time to catch your breath, but it's not long before he slides his tongue inside of your weeping hole, fucking you with the wet muscle. Your thighs instinctively move to clamp around his head but he just pries them back open with a grunt.
"Quit runnin' from it or I'll quit" he warns after pulling away from your cunt and then diving back in. You know he's serious, unable to count the amount of times Daryl has stopped until you calmed down, not wanting you to fight him, wanting you to lie there and take it like the good girl he knows you can be for him.
A broken whine leaves your lips at the warning, but you listen, trying your best to hold yourself open for him as he continues to feast on your cunt like it's his last meal on earth.
He teasingly kisses his way back up to your clit, suckling at it as an almost pathetic whimper falls from your pretty lips.
As he continues his assault on your clit he brushes two of his thick fingers against your fluttering entrance, teasingly circling just to hear you whine before easing the digits inside of you.
Your head tilts back against the flat pillow on your sleeping bag as he suckles at your clit, his fingers scissoring inside of you to prepare to take something much bigger than his fingers.
You're growing close to an orgasm embarrassingly quick, whining and fluttering around his relentless fingers while giving your clit teasing sucks and pulls.
Daryl can tell you're close, accustomed to the tells of your body by now. "It's alright, baby. Just lemme make you feel good" he mutters against your clit, his fingers crooking inside of you to toy with that spongy spot inside that you always used to love.
You try to fight it, wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as you can, but you can't. His words of encouragement mixed with the touch that you've been craving from the man you missed sent you over the edge.
Your orgasm rips through you with a loud broken sound. Your body tenses as your back arches off of the ground.
Daryl continues to work you through it, a rough groan vibrates around your clit as he feels the way your eager cunt flutters around his fingers.
An overstimulated whine leaves your lips as you squirm beneath him, unable to take the pleasure anymore. Your hand reaches down and gently pushes his head away, his face covered in your juices as he slips his fingers out of you.
Daryl doesn't seem happy that you stopped his feast, but he relents anyway, kissing at your now closed thighs as you harshly pant, thighs twitching from the earth-shattering orgasm he just ripped out of you.
"Did so good for me" he mutters and kisses his way back up your body before catching your lips in a desperate kiss.
You let out a soft moan into the kiss, your lips meeting the movements of his almost instantly. Daryl's tongue firmly pries your lips open before gently brushing into your mouth.
The kiss grows heated fast, his hands feeling up your body as your own gently tug at his belt in a silent request for him to strip as well, you can feel yourself quickly getting worked up once more, wanting his cock inside of you.
Daryl obliged with your silent demand and starts to unbuckle his belt, making quick work of the leather before discarding the rest of his clothing.
His hard cock springs out, aching and leaking precum from the tip. You let out a soft gasp as you take in the sight of him you've missed so much, the girth of his cock that has always stretched you oh so deliciously, the wild coarse hairs at the base of his cock that you always used to bury your nose into when sucking him off, and the prominent vein on the underside that leads to his tip.
Daryl smirks as he sees you taking in the sight of him, he knows what you're thinking, it's written clear as day on your face.
He doesn't keep you waiting much longer, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your temple as he rubs the head of his cock through your folds, wetting himself before poking at your entrance.
His eyes flicker to yours, checking to make sure you're still wanting this, but he says nothing but admiration and pure filthy need. Then without warning he starts to press his girthy cock inside of you.
Your eyes squeeze shut and a whimper leaves your lips at the stretch, the feeling painful at first, but you power through, eyes squeezing shut as he gets his tip inside.
"Shh, I know, baby." Daryl gently shushes at the sound of your whimper. He pauses a moment, not attempting to press deeper inside of you yet, instead, he gently starts to fuck you with the tip to open you up for him.
The pain quickly turns into pleasure as he fucks you with only the tip, your whimpers turning into soft moans with every small drag of him.
Once Daryl noticed you've relaxed some he starts to press deeper inside with every thrust, about half of his length inside of you now, cunt more open and giving way with every thrust of his cock.
Your moans turn into soft whines, feeling full of him even when he isn't fully inside yet. Daryl notices, of course he does.
"Why ya whinin', baby? Ain't even bottomed out yet" he teases with that smug look of his. You can only respond with a whine of protest at his teasing, but you both know how much you love it when he teases.
Your cunt flutters around him, a rough groan leaving Daryl at the feeling, grunting out a small 'fuck' as he continues to press his cock inside of you.
It doesn't take much longer until he's fully inside, causing the two of you to shudder. He pauses for a moment, feeling as if he could paint your insides white already with how tight your cunt is squeezing him.
"Daryl- need you" you softly whine after a moment with a needy squirm of hips, wanting him to thrust, wanting to feel him moving inside of you.
He doesn't even think to protest the idea, the second he realizes what you want he starts to move his hips, gentle at first, letting you get used to being filled after so long.
The gentle pace doesn't last very long, his pace picking up as you get more whiny, ever drag of his cock punches a moan out of you, hands gripping his shoulders as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.
"None o' that, wanna see ya" Daryl says with a gruff chuckle and kisses the side of your head, prying you away from his neck, wanting to watch the expressions you make as he pleasures you.
The pace of his thrusts picks up, causing almost pathetic sounds to leave you, growing louder in pitch with every movement.
Each drag of him inside of you causes his tip to kiss your cervix, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling.
Your moans grow loud, too loud in these quiet woods. Daryl's hand slides over your mouth, shushing you as his thrusts pick up the pace, wanting to make you feel good without attracting every walker lurking in these woods.
"Gotta be quiet, breathe through your nose" he says as you protest the feeling of his big hand over your mouth for a moment, adjusting at his command, breathing through your nose as those pretty sounds continue to leave your lips.
Daryl looks down at how pretty you look, your flushed skin, half-lidded eyes, breasts bouncing with every thrust.
Daryl can feel your cunt fluttering around his cock, a groan leaving him at the squeeze of you, feeling like he could finish already, but wanting to draw it out.
Before you can fully process it Daryl pulls out and flips you onto your stomach, his hand leaving your mouth to let you bury your face into the pillow instead.
You whine at the loss of his cock but it doesn't take long before he's easing his way back in, thrusts instantly picking up and causing a loud moan to leave your lips, barely muffled by the pillow on the sleeping bag.
His hips practically slam against yours, sounds of his cock dragging through your wet cunt fill the tent and you whine in embarrassment, but Daryl loves it, a rough groan leaving his lips at the sound.
"Missed you too" he teases through a rough grunt. You can tell that he's getting close, the sounds he's making, how tense his body is, and you're not far off yourself.
Your body tenses as you gasp, orgasm crashing over you as you tremble, with the sounds you're making and the way your cunt is fluttering around him it doesn't take much longer until Daryl spills inside of you with a harsh grunt.
He gives a few more lazy thrusts before pulling out and rolling off of you, a soft hiss leaving your lips as his cock leaves your tender fucked-out hole.
"Jesus, made a mess of ya" he says with that small smile of his, watching as his seed drips out of your hole and onto the sleeping bag. He scoops it up with his fingers and gently presses it back inside, causing you to squirm and reach behind you to swat his hand away.
Daryl just chuckles and slides his fingers out of you, lying back down on his back and catching his breath.
You roll over and scoot closer to him, resting your head on his muscular bicep, the two of you just lying there, catching your breath after the intense moment between you.
After a moment, Daryl speaks up. "Got a group, can come back with me in the mornin'." he offers, wanting to bring you back with him, not daring to let you out of his sight now that he has you back.
"Yeah, of course." you mutter and lean forward slightly, planting a kiss on his cheek that causes a flush to form behind his stubble, he hopes you can't see it in the dim tent lighting.
After the two of you catch your breath he cleans you up the best that he can considering the lack of supplies, the two of you putting your clothes back on.
You squeeze into the sleeping bag with him, pressed into his side as you drift off to sleep.
The next morning you pack up your campsite with the help of Daryl, cooking some of the venison for breakfast before starting the journey to his camp.
The walk through the woods is long and tiring, especially on your sore body from the sex, cursing daryl for making it hurt to sit down, yet loving the reminder that he was there.
You make it to his group, pushing through the trees and finding a prison, his group standing at the gates. Your eyes furrow slightly at the sight, not seeing many people since the whole outbreak, making more friends with walkers than you have humans as of late.
Daryl grabs your wrist and tugs you in with him, muttering a quick 'she's with me'. The two of you head inside, he leads you to the cell block where they've been staying, sitting his pack down to take out all of his supplies.
"Brought dinner" is all he says and tosses the meat from the buck onto the table, wrapped in cloth. Grabbing your wrist once more and dragging you towards a cell without sparing a second glance to the other survivors, planning to make up for some more lost time with you.
this work is also posted on my ao3!!
divider by: @/strangergraphics
a/n: i didnât really proofread nglđ donât mind mistakes!
