Daryl Dixon X F!Reader Smut: Three-hour Drive In Two

Rick finding out ur into choking which leads to rough sex? 🤭

18+ mdni

“You like that?”

Rick scoffs, referring to the hold he had around your neck— courtesy of you.

You grabbed his arm and allowed him to wrap his fingers around you and dig his fingernails into your skin.

You loved it.

How you could see the cocky smirk on his face, you loved that he had the power and could do whatever he wanted. It only made the arousal between your legs grow and leak onto the bed.

Meekly nodding, you tighten your grip around the man’s wrist, a sign for him to continue and go harder.

He did. Squeezing his fingers around your neck, that combined with his rough pounding made you see stars.

“Mmgh, Rick!”

The man chuckled coyly, a stupid smirk on his face, “You’re pathetic, baby.” He cooed, his thumb reaching up to tauntingly stroke at your soft cheek.

By now your face was turning a shade of crimson due to his harsh hold, fat tears forming in your eyes and begging to drip.

Rick's thrust only speed up, getting more aroused at the sight of you— laid beneath him, completely at his mercy, his hand around your throat and those big eyes that stared into his. God, he loved you.

hiiii Kenny! here to request re6 Leon taking you out to dinner while controlling the vibrator you’re wearing. him just calling you princess and good girl because you’re trying so hard to keep a straight face while he makes you come repeatedly. then maybe he fucks you in the bathroom because neither of you can wait until you get home? 🤭🤭🤭

pairing: sugar daddy!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon figures your dinner date is a good a time as any to test out the new toy he bought you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, vibrating panties, public sex, slight exhibitionism, daddy kink, age gap (20s, 36), mirror sex

word count: 3.8k

a/n: yippie thank you so much for the request! it was right up my alley. i changed it to be sugar daddy leon cause that's what i was feeling. i hope you and everyone else enjoy <33

The points of your heels click against the hard ground as you traverse across the restaurant and find the seat waiting for you. It was in the back corner of the dining room. The same table as always. You pull out the chair and sit down, slinging your small handbag over the right corner.

"Hi, daddy. Sorry I'm late," you say with a grin.

The federal agent sitting across from you doesn't share your look of amusement. He puts the menu down and his hard eyes cast upon your face before drifting down your body. You knew he had a hard time being irritated with you when you got all dolled up for him. Your hair was styled just the way he liked it, your makeup applied with a precise hand, and your dress was the best part of all. It was his favorite color to see on you, shimmering in the dim lighting. It hinted at your figure while still leaving his mouth watering with the desire to rip it off.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that in public?" he mutters.

"Keeping it a secret won't make you feel less icky about liking it," you tease.

Leon chooses to ignore your remark and instead takes your hand. His thumb rubs up and down your fingers, feeling the soft skin. His gaze traces over every little line on your unblemished knuckles. Your hands were always clean, never littered with callouses, cuts, or bruises. Your nails were pretty too, pointy and painted. His money well-spent.

"Why were you late?" he asks and returns his eyes to you.

"Traffic," you offer and shrug, sipping the drink he'd ordered for you before you arrived.

"That's not what Devon told me," he says, "He said you took an extra fifteen minutes to get ready."

Your eyes reach the ceiling with how hard you roll them. Devon is the driver Leon has take you almost everywhere. 

"He's such a snitch," you mumble. You go to retract your hand from his grasp, but he doesn't let you.

"You're not in trouble, baby," he chuckles, "I just wanna know what you were doing."

You stare at him for a moment before sighing. "If you must know, I was putting on the present you sent me," you answer, "It just was a little confusing at first so it took me a minute."

"Confusing?" he asks, the confession bringing out that smile he hid most of the time.

"Yes, confusing. It didn't come with any directions," you say like it's obvious. You quiet down further to explain the next part. "I didn't know if the vibrator was already inside or not, but then it fell out and it took me a minute to slide it back in."

"Alright," he chuckles, "That makes sense. And that's all you had to say. No need to be so defensive."

You smile, and you're starting to relax into the rhythm of how your outings with him typically go. Putting your drink down, you scan over the menu to try and decide what you want. He lets go of your hand and gives you a minute to look over the options.

"What do you think you're gonna get?" you ask.

Upon receiving no response, you look up at him. You find his attention focused elsewhere as he's looking down, fidgeting with his phone.

"It's no fair that I can't go on my phone when I'm with you, but you can go on yours when you're with me," you huff.

He still doesn't say anything which irritates you further. Sure, he was older than you, but he wasn't at the age where texting takes up one's entire mental capacity and renders them silent.

"If you're texting some other girl, I can just give you some privacy because-" you start to tease. You're cut off when the device between your legs whirs to life. You bring your hand up to cover your mouth, trying to conceal your initial reaction.

Leon simply smirks at you. His thumb moves in slow circles on the screen of his phone, similar to how he'd move the digit if it was on your clit.

"So cagey tonight," he teases lowly as he watches you squirm and adjust to the thrumming sensation. "And you know, if I say it's fair, it's fair. All I ask for is your time and your affection. If I let you go on your phone, you couldn't give me your affection, and my time would be wasted."

Even from behind your hand, he can hear the little pants you're letting out. His thumb slows down further, dropping the vibrations to a lower level. He taps the screen quickly and slides it under the table to rest on his thigh. The stimulation was constant on that teasing setting, no longer requiring him to manually operate it.

"I know," you breathe, finally able to remove your hand from your mouth. You grip the edge of the table though. The toy may not have had you screaming, but the consistent buzzing against your most sensitive spot definitely had you a little off balance.

"Good girl," he says with a look that felt almost as good to you as the vibrator did.

There's a brief silence between the two of you. You're simply trying to hold in your soft whimpers while he watches on in amusement. Taking your lip between your teeth, you decide that a distraction would be the best way to avoid humiliating yourself.

"So... how was your last mission? Seems like you weren't gone as long as usual," you say.

"It was fine, honey. Don't worry your pretty little head about that stuff," he says.

His hand slides under the table, and his fingers flick a few more controls. The vibrations evolve to a stronger rumble, killing any further questions before they could even make the leap from thoughts to words. Your eyes screw shut for a moment. Your head's natural inclination is to tilt backwards, but you force it the other way, stretching your hand across your eyes.

"There you go, princess. That's my girl," he coos, "All you need to worry about is keeping yourself under control. You don't have to think about anything else."

He can hear your breaths getting sharper. To anyone else, you probably looked like you had a headache. Or maybe like you'd just heard some bad news. That would've been the case if he didn't have this little toy handy. Instead he gets to adore you from across the table, admire the beauty that seeps from every pore and orifice on your body.

To Leon, that was the beauty of your relationship. He cared for you deeply. He'd take a bullet for you without a second thought, stop his own pulse if that's what it took for yours to continue. But he still didn't call you his girlfriend. You were his baby, his darling, his princess, the only one he longed to be with, yet he didn't officially claim you.

It didn't bother you so much since he spoiled you rotten and treated you as if you were his in every way that mattered, but the state of limbo he held you in weighed on him. He craved more with you; letting you move in, buying you a ring instead of another set of lingerie, cumming deep inside of you rather than on your stomach. 

But with a girlfriend came obligation. He'd have to tell his girlfriend he'd been having nightmares since he came home from this last assignment. He'd have to let his girlfriend know he had an ache in his shoulder that wouldn't go away. He'd have to watch your face fill with worry while his heart sank with the guilt of roping you into his bullshit.

For now, this was better. Watching you ascend to paradise in the middle of this restaurant while everyone around you remained ignorant would suffice for the time being.

He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he'd missed the signs that you were fast approaching the edge. Your chest was puffing more frequently while it looked like the table might snap under the pressure of your iron grip. Reaching over to you, he takes your hand back into his. Your fingers clasp around his own just as tightly as they had held the table. He swears he can feel the vibrations from between your thighs emanating through your blood and pulsing against your skin.

"Look at you, baby. Such a pretty girl," he whispers, "Think you can cum before the waiter gets here? Or are you gonna try to be stubborn and hold it?"

You're honestly unsure whether you can speak without it turning into a moan, but you force yourself to spit the words out.

"Gonna cum."

Shudders overtake you, and he can see the way you fight to maintain your posture. Your body wants to convulse and explode, to let everyone in this place know just how good you're feeling. Your hand is locked on his now. He doesn't think a crow bar could pry you off in this state.

"That's it, sweetheart. Just cum for daddy," he croons quietly, "Let it all out. Such a good girl staying so quiet. I'm so proud of you."

The words make your eyes roll back behind the lids. Your thighs squeeze against one another, only intensifying the power of the vibe. He's shifting in his seat too at this point. He'd been able to stave off his boner so far, but seeing you come undone in front of him was too far. There was no way to prevent his blood from flowing South and stiffening up his length.

"My baby, so precious," he says, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, "I know that felt so good for you, princess."

You lazily nod as you float back down to reality. Your breathing becomes deeper as the high of the orgasm fades into the blissful haze of the afterglow. He even gives you a tiny break and puts the vibrator back on the lower setting.

"Thank you, daddy," you whimper. It was a reflex at this point. Thanking Leon for letting you cum was like day turning to night. One naturally followed the other.

"Don't worry about it, sweet girl. This is what I bought those panties for," he says.

As your body begins to calm down, your hand covers your mouth and your eyes stay locked on the table. The waiter comes by only a minute or two later. You still don't look up because you know Leon will handle this for you.

And he does. He orders for himself and then for you too. As soon as the waiter's pen scrapes across his notepad for the final time and he heads away, you peer up at Leon through your lashes.

"You ok, baby?" he chuckles.

You nod which only amplifies the smug look on his face.

"Good. I think you're ready for some more then," he says.

"Don't-" you start to protest. But before the rest of your statement can come out, he's already boosted the buzz to the higher setting it was at minutes ago. The only difference is that this time the rhythm is pulsating. It's more random. It won't make you cum as fast, but it will get you squirming all the same.

"What was that?" he mocks.

"Shut up," you whimper.

Each wave of pulsating pleasure made you tighten up and press your thighs together which in turn pushed the device harder against your cunt. It was a vicious cycle that had your mind spinning, unable to break out.

"Shut up? That's not very nice, princess," he taunts, "I'm just making you feel good. Think you should be saying thank you instead."

"I can't stay quiet again," you whine. It comes out strained. He can hear the will you have to exert to not give in to the heavenly thrumming on your center.

"Yes you can," he reassures. He takes your jaw in his hand, pulling on your bottom lip with his thumb before rubbing your chin. "I know you can. You're my good girl. You always make daddy so proud."

Your eyes flutter and a shaky breath expels from your lungs.

"I- I wanna make you proud, but... it feels so good," you say, your voice trailing off into a quiet whine.

"Oh I know it does, baby," he coos, speaking as if you were made of glass, "But you can handle it. You can handle getting your cute little pussy played with in front of all these people."

"Stop... you're making it harder," you pout.

"You're making me harder, angel," he jokes before kissing your lips gently. He then lets your chin go, but his eyes stay locked with yours. "You're doing great. This is what a little doll like you is made for, hm? To be played with."

You grit your teeth, but you still can barely restrain the mewl rising in your throat. Your head hangs forward. You use everything you have to stop yourself from melting into a puddle in your seat. You're close to cumming for the second time, and both you and him know it.

His hand goes for his phone yet again, and with a few more taps, the vibe is no longer pulsing. It's strong and constant. You didn't know how it wasn't rattling the chair beneath you. Your hands claw at the wood of the table.

"Fuck Leon," you whisper. Your legs quiver violently, and you're just grateful at this point that you were sitting down.

"Who?" he teases, grinning as you cling to your last sliver of composure.

"Daddy, sorry, mmph-" you squeak as your hips roll against the toy.

"Good girl," he purrs, "C'mon, baby. You can do it. Let yourself cum again. Just stay quiet and cum again."

It's easy to give into release again. The difficult part is staying quiet. Your face contorts in all kinds of ways to try and rein in the lewd noises that wanted to erupt from your mouth. Turning your head, you look at the wall to conceal your expressions from everyone else in the room.

"Hiding that pretty face from me, sweetheart?" he teases, "That's ok. You're being such a good girl by keeping it down. No one's even looking over here, princess. You're doing perfect for me."

The praise is enough to carry you through the high and bring you down without a sound. A light sweat is breaking out on your forehead, and you're breathing a little harder. Other than that though, nothing seems amiss. As you feel the vibrations fading away, you look up at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Still with me, dollface?" he asks mockingly.

Your head bobs up and down in a nod, but it's clear your head is still up in the clouds for the time being.

You're so precious all blissed out like this. It drives him absolutely wild. The strain of his cock against his zipper is becoming noticeably uncomfortable now, and he's eager to get rid of the tension in his pants.

His eyes flit around the room, strategizing routes for the plan that was forming in his head. Quick as a viper, he grabs your arm and pulls you to your feet. He drags you around the corner to the restroom and ducks inside. You stumble behind him, blinking in surprise at his sudden movements.

Your lips are on his as soon as the door is shut and secured. He holds you close in a deep kiss, one arm around your waist, the other cradling your head. He doesn't waste time with niceties and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip for entrance. The two of you engage in a full make out as he walks you over to the sink and flips you around.

His lips attack your neck next. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat to your exposed shoulder. You watch in the mirror the entire time, your eyes still hazy from your previous releases.

"Couldn't wait, pretty baby," he murmurs, "Need my dessert before dinner."

You sigh pleasurably and let your head fall back against his shoulder. His hands sweep up and down your sides, squeezing your waist and groping your hips. As much as he wants to savor you and experience every inch of your body, he knows he can do that later tonight. Right now, he had to be quick.

He shimmies up the fabric of your dress to bunch around your waist and pushes your upper half forward. You brace yourself on the smooth countertop as he crouches down to be level with your throbbing cunt.

Before indulging in the luxury that was your pussy, he teases the lacy outline of the panties and gently kisses up your inner thighs.

"Sweet, sweet baby. Gonna have to buy you a pair of these for every day of the week. Don't think I'll want you wearing anything else ever again," he mumbles.

Finally, he pulls them down and stands up again. His fingers slide through the slick that had gathered between your thighs. You were practically dripping from all the time you had with the vibrator pressed to your sex.

More kisses land on your shoulder and neck while he fumbles with the buttons on his pants and frees himself. Your hand returns to cover your mouth in preparation of him entering you. He lines up and nudges the tip against your entrance.

"You ready, baby?" he coos and rubs your back, "Think you got one more in you?"

"Mhm," you hum from beneath your palm. The sound quickly escalates into a needy whine as the thickness of his cock penetrates you.

It slides in with ease, going all the way to the hilt in a matter of seconds. Your eyes roll back at first but drop back into place to stare at yourself and him in the mirror. His hands migrate to your hips and hold you steady as he begins to pump himself in and out of you.

You're a little more relaxed about your noises now given that you're in the privacy of an isolated room, but you still make an effort to muffle them. He watches you, finding all your little reactions endearing. Leaning down, he nuzzles the side of your head while thrusting.

"It's so cute that you're trying to be quiet," he coos, "You think what we're doing is a secret, baby? You think people don't know what I'm doing to you in here? They saw how wobbly your legs were, they saw the look in your eyes."

You whine at the tease, knowing the two of you hadn't made the most discreet exit. Still, you shake your head defiantly. He laughs at the gesture.

"You're lucky all I have to do to get us out of it is flash my badge or some cash. Small price to pay to take care of my slutty little girl," he taunts.

Your body rocks back and forth with his momentum. You arch your back on top of the sleek marble, gripping the clean edge harder with your free hand. The sight before you in the mirror pulls you closer to the edge with every ragged breath or hushed grunt from him. You just press your own hand harder against your lips in a weak effort to contain yourself.

"You could be completely silent, darling. That's not gonna stop anyone from seeing you dripping down your legs when we go back to the table," he says, "And you know, by the time we head out to the car, I'm sure you'll have soaked through your dress too."

His fingers dig deeper into the plump of your hips. He's squeezing so hard that his knuckles have gone white. All he's focused on is holding you in place so he can keep rutting into your warm cunt without incident. His head tilts back, and he lets out a deep groan.

"You're being louder than me," you whimper.

He chuckles at your comment and responds with a smack to your ass. It echoes throughout the bathroom and makes your face boil at the idea that someone passing by could've heard. To make matters worse, the tantalizing sting draws an audible moan from you. You have to renew your hand's strength on your mouth to keep any others in.

"That's not for you to worry about, sweetheart," he chides, "You worry about yourself. Daddy'll handle everything else."

His hips continue smacking into your ass as he fucks into you. He kneads the flesh, letting his eyes flutter shut to lose himself in the feeling of you for a few moments. You're tight and soft. Warm and wet. Taking each inch of him like it's all you ever wanted to do. He could feel the beginning of the end simmering in his belly, and it only makes him thrust harder.

Your head drops forward, the allure of the mirror no longer enough to keep you upright. Your hand falls from your face with the movement and comes down to further support your weight against the counter. Drool drips from your lips along with the soft noises spilling out unrestrained now.

"Daddy..." you mumble, "Think I'm gonna cum again."

Leon grins at the words and ups his efforts to get you there faster.

"Think? If you don't know then maybe I'm not going hard enough," he teases breathily.

"I- no.... I know it. I just... I just wanna cum," you pout. Defense or reason was too difficult to conjure in this state of mind. You wanted what you wanted and that was the priority right now.

"Go ahead then, babydoll. Daddy's right behind you," he says with a quick pinch to your ass.

For the third time tonight, your eyes close, your body goes taut, and your cunt gushes with ecstasy. You squeeze around his cock and let out a long, euphoric whine. He truly is right behind you, and his pleasure heightens with each second of that high pitched noise. It's no time till the pulsing down below intensifies and he's pushing himself all the way into your wanting pussy. He lets himself cum inside you this time. The both of you deserve it.

Rope after rope spurts into you. It satisfies him deeper than expected, sating him in a way shooting onto your skin never did. He pants behind your ear. Nothing else matters but the feeling of you connected with him in this moment.

After he's had his fill, he slowly pulls out. He takes his time not to make too much of a mess. You stand up straight and stretch out your limbs. He watches you to make sure you don't lose your footing. Then he tucks himself back into his pants. You pull your panties up and fix your dress. The both of you turn to the other, doing a quick once over to make sure nothing was too obvious.

Before heading back out, he pulls you against him again and kisses your nose.

"My perfect girl. Let's go back out there and finish dinner. I'll even let you eat in peace since you were so good for me," he teases.

"Lucky me," you reply with a lazy smile.

He brushes his nose against yours before giving you a quick swat on the ass and following you back out there. Despite the both of you feeling satisfied, he knew the night was only just beginning.

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Stars in the Dark

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected p in v, emergency contraceptives, slight alcohol consumption, reader is strong (minor description)

Summary: You're a former farm hand at the Greene Farm. You swoon over the new hunter, and he notices.

Notes: This was one of the first requests I got and I'm so sorry it took me this long to put it out! I hope you're still around anon, and you enjoy.

It was an unusually cool day. 

You sat on the front porch of the Greene house, watching as the strangers that were slowly becoming friends did their daily chores. Carol sat in the center of their camp, scrubbing clothes in a bucket next to Lori, who was hanging them up to dry. Andrea sat on the top of the RV, switching between her gun scope and her binoculars to observe the tree line. There was a man beside her, the one that was with Otis when he died, was his name Shawn? Shane?

It was hard to remember their names, there were so many of them.

But you didn't have trouble remembering Daryl’s name. Especially considering how often you would whimper it into your pillow at night. 

You felt your cheeks heat up at the idea of him, your legs switching from being crossed at your ankles to your knees, the rocking chair beneath you swaying slightly. 

Your eyes drifted to the man you'd been thinking of, watching as he walked back to the camp for lunch after spending the morning hunting. You'd been seeing more of him, especially after the whole incident with the walkers in the barn, something not even you had known about. You knew they were there, sure, but you had no idea the little girl they were looking for had been in there the whole time. 

The Greene family had kept it from you for a while. You had gone to school with Maggie, Hershel's daughter, and she was able to get you a spring job working at her farm with the horses and cattle. They were even kind enough to let you have their spare bedroom downstairs near the back door. It was tiny, but it was free lodging, and you loved it. 

That spring job turned into a summer job once the infection started. Hershel had done a pretty good job convincing you of his beliefs. You had little medical experience, mostly just patching up animals at the farm, especially the barn cat PeePoe, but you liked to believe Hershel knew what he was talking about. Even if it seemed a little farfetched. So, you kept their secret and minded your own business. 

You were sort of glad Shane forced the whole thing to happen. The walkers in the barn were starting to really creep you out, especially with how much they began to rot over time. 

The movement of two people sneaking around to the back of the house caught your eye and you saw Maggie and Glenn, something you'd grown accustomed to. She had a big smile, full of excitement and nervousness, and Glenn just looked thrilled to be there. You watched as they disappeared to the back workshop and felt envy bubble in your stomach. 

The sound of that familiar gruff voice that you'd gotten really good at imagining at night startled you. You looked up and away from beside you, your mouth slightly open in surprise, not having heard him walk up on the porch. 

“Hi?” You looked up at him, awkward and embarrassed from your earlier thoughts. You weren't used to seeing him so up close. He smelled like cigarettes and something else, something artificial, and when you saw him chewing something you realized it was the very faint scent of bubblegum. 

“Patricia said you knew the shops in town. Can't find Glenn, and we need supplies for dinner tonight.” His eyes held little emotion, a bit of annoyance maybe. Annoyance at having to ask you, or annoyance at having to go into town instead of Glenn, you weren't sure. 

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded slowly, trying to keep the filthy thoughts from your head as your eyes raked over his face and upper body, catching yourself and quickly looking back up at his face. 

“Good. C'mon.” He didn't ask, he just slung his crossbow over his bloody ripped shirt, which you assumed was from the deer he had bagged that morning. 

Patricia had mentioned to you in passing about wanting to have another group dinner that night, you didn't expect it to actually happen, given how awkward the last one had been at first. With the weather slowly fading into autumn and the crops dying from age, you figured it was necessary to get some supplies from town. 

You didn't leave often. You didn't have a desire, or a need to, but the idea of being alone with Daryl had you almost skipping to his bike. 

As much as you wanted to push Daryl against the wall of the corner store and kiss him till he passed out, you didn't feel like getting humiliated from rejection. You settled for just watching him as he moved, picking up cans and turning them over before stuffing them in his burlap potato sack. 

The sight of his eyes flickering up over the aisle and landing right on yours snapped you out of your dirty daydream. You quickly looked down to your shelf, picking up a can of corn and pretending to be interested in the ingredients in it. Hmm, yes, Corn. 

He eyed you through suspicious slits, having a hard time deciding between being concerned or annoyed.

Daryl didn't know much about you at all. He knew your name, he knew you were younger than Maggie but older than Beth and that you were a newer farmhand. The only people that ever talked about you never really spoke to him.

He did know that you were way too hot to be working on a farm shoveling horse shit. You belonged in a fuckin magazine, one of those that fashion ones Amy used to read back at their first camp in Atlanta. You were fit, you had to be for your job, what you looked like before all the labor-intensive work, he didn't know or care. 

He'd never seen someone as hot as you in person. He couldn't even think of the words to describe you. You looked so out of place at that farm, it was like taking a supermodel and putting her in a gas station. He watched as you put food in your bag, trying not to get hard as his thoughts swiftly changed from admiring your beauty to imagining how you'd look when you came. 

Daryl thought about that way too much already. He thought about it so much that he was confident he was spot on with the image of you he created in his mind. Alone in his far-off tent at night, not having to worry about getting caught, rubbing his dick raw to the thought of you naked, drooling and crying from pleasure under him. 

“Okay, my bag’s full.” Your voice ripped him from his trance and he blinked a few times, realizing he'd been staring at the same can of peas for the past two minutes. 

“Yeah. Alright.” He swept his arm across his shelf, knocking several cans into his bag and two on the floor. You jumped at the sound and he cursed, his brain still not working right with all the blood that went to his dick. 

You peeked over the shelf to see two cans on the floor, one perfectly fine and the other surrounded in a gross pile of butter beans. No loss to you. Daryl snatched the can of diced tomatoes from the floor and put it in his bag, twisting it a few times before slinging it over the shoulder that didn't have the crossbow on it. 

“How the hell are we gonna get these back?” You asked as you walked out the front door, trying not to fall head over heels when he stuck back to hold the door open for you. You thought he was being chivalrous, he just wanted to stare at your ass in those Bobbie Brooks as you walked to his bike. 

“We'll figure it out.” 

And you did, sort of, but it was incredibly awkward with a bag pressed between the two of you on the bike, and the other tied to your torso so it sat behind you. Thankfully, he drove thoughtfully slowly, and you were able to get back to the farm without incident. 

You were happy to let the other women do the cooking, trying to pay attention to the rant Andrea was currently going on about how Lori loved her social norms. 

The wind had grown a bit cooler, sending goosebumps over the back of your neck as the breeze blew through your hair. 

“You ever cook?” Andrea said suddenly, a cautious edge to her voice as if she suddenly realized she had no idea how you felt about gender roles. “Or, like it, I mean?”

“Was more of an outdoor kind of girl.” You chuckled, leaning back in the plastic lawn chair around the fire you sat at. 

Daryl was chopping wood, something you'd never been so interested in before. Andreas' conversation was getting real, real boring. 

“Yeah. I liked fishing myself.” She grew silent after that, and you looked away from Daryl to see she had a far out look in her eyes.

“You okay?” You asked in a gentle voice, only earning a silent nod from her. You took that as your leave and gave her a comforting shoulder squeeze before heading inside. The sun would set in a few hours, and you wanted to change into warmer clothes before dinner. 

You didn't expect to have Daryl sit beside you at dinner. 

You didn't really expect him to come, let alone eat with the group. Last time he’d been stuck in the bed upstairs since he’d been shot by Andrea. You basically froze when you saw the seating arrangements.

 It wasn't really his choice, honestly, everyone sat down so fast, the only two seats that were open were right beside each other. Looked like no one wanted to sit next to Shane. And from the look on his face, you didn't really want to either.

Relief flooded through you when Daryl sat down next to Shane. You took your seat beside Daryl, Andrea on your right. You smiled at Patricia in front of you, only getting a small one in return. 

It wasn't as quiet or awkward as the last dinner. Spirits were a bit higher, although tense with the whole “prisoner in the barn” fiasco. You couldn't recall the name of the man that was currently chained up, but you did know Dale made a scene of fixing him a plate, much to Shane's objection. 

You tried to distract yourself from their bickering by looking at Daryl. A quick bolt of subdued adrenaline coursed through you when you saw he was already looking at you. You looked away almost immediately out of reflex, and deciding against your better judgment, you looked back. He was still looking at you. 

Daryl couldn't figure you out. If he had a bullet for how many times he caught you looking at him, he'd be able to kill every damn walker on earth. 

It never even crossed his mind you were into him before that night. It seemed so farfetched, you were too fuckin pretty to be looking at him like that. Your features were so soft, even after all the work that had toughened your muscles, your face was still so… 

Cute.

 He didn't notice the tugging that had pulled at the corner of his mouth until it was a full-fledged smirk. He was about to look away when he realized how creepy he probably looked, staring down at you smirking without speaking, but the feeling of your knee bumping against his had his eyes locked to yours. 

His smirk slowly faded, being replaced by a more serious expression, until he saw the soft smile on your lips. 

Nah, she's just friendly. He found himself trying to explain away your actions, but a large part of him desperately wanted him to be wrong. Having such a sweet girl look up at him like that was uncharted territory, and his mind slowly drifted away to the idea of your uncharted territory. He would've snorted at the pun if not for the feel of your thigh pressing against his and staying there this time. 

Neither of you had noticed, but the bickering had finally died down, and a different and lighter conversation was taking place. 

Your silent interaction wasn't as private as it felt, the burn of Rick's eyes on his face had Daryl dragging his eyes to the leader of the group, holding so much cold annoyance towards the nosey man that it could've frozen hell. 

Rick just grinned, happy to see at least some people weren't so miserable with how things were going and went back to picking at his plate with his fork, silently chuckling. 

“Do you drink?” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts, he looked back over to you, his expression softening when he saw you. He couldn't decide if he wanted to take you out back and fuck you in the grass like an animal, or take you to your bed and kiss every inch of your body. 

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, his voice low and quiet amongst the chatter of the table. “Why?”

You shrugged in return, popping an apple slice in your mouth and crunching it before swallowing and speaking. “I found a bottle of wine today at the store. I don't really drink much anymore but wanted to find a reason to.” 

Your open-ended words had him overthinking once again, over analyzing what you meant. Was he the reason to drink? Or did you have one already? Before he could leave you in more silence your thigh moved against his again, bringing his attention back to you. 

“What're you askin’ me?” He needed to hear you clearly state your intentions, not wanting to humiliate himself by accepting a nonexistent request. 

“If you'll join me.” Your voice was quiet, almost too quiet, and it took him a few seconds to process what you'd said. 

He looked you over, his eyes narrowing as he searched your face for any sign of a trick. You smiled nervously, your eyes flickering to and fro, only settling on his eyes for a second a time. Something about you being unable to keep eye contact stirred something in him, something he was painfully unfamiliar with. He wanted to grab your chin and make you look up at him, make you speak up, make you tremble under his touch-

“You can say no.” He snapped out of it to see your smile had faded to fear of rejection. 

“No. I want to.” He answered immediately, nodding and earning another smile from you. 

You met him in the front field, holding your bundled up blanket with the wine bottle inside. You were originally going to bring glasses, but said fuck it, you could drink from the bottle. You did forget to bring a bottle opener, though, something Daryl was happy to help with. 

He took the bottle from you and sat down on the blanket beside you, pulling a switchblade from his back pocket and beginning to work it into the cork.

“Hershel said something about moving you guys inside soon.” You commented as he blew a few chunks of broken cork from his blade. 

“I'll pass.” He grunted, digging the blade back into the cork. 

You looked away, your heart dropping at his words. 

“Can't stop thinking about it.” 

“Huh?” 

“About winter.” You thought you might've just been imagining it, but you swore you saw his face drop in disappointment at your answer. 

Finally, you heard the pop of the cork finally coming out, and he took the first swig, spitting out the few pieces of cork that had fallen in after he demolished the poor thing. 

He handed it back to you and you took a deep swig, trying to get as much courage as possible. You didn't know how to act around Daryl. He was so unpredictable, nothing like the other men you'd crushed on before. They were all easy, quick to accept your subliminal hints. 

But Daryl? You could tell him you wanted to suck his dick till he couldn't breathe, and he'd probably laugh, thinking you were just joking, and go off and hunt or whatever it was he did all day. 

It was easy for your mind to wander in the silence. You handed the bottle back to Daryl as you slowly undressed him in your head, imagining him taking your clothes off, his lips all over your neck, switching between your different fantasies. Rough, violent and painful, sweet, slow and deep, or quick, needy and dirty. You wondered what he would be like, was he experienced? Would he be able to make you cum just with his fingers? Or was he the opposite? Either way you wanted him, so unreasonably bad, you'd never felt this way about a man before. If someone told you a witch put a lust spell on you strictly for him, you'd believe it in a heartbeat. You didn't even know his favorite color. Or what type of music he listened to. 

“Shit, get down.” His hand on your chest pushing you to your back had your heart in your throat. You tilted your head back to see Maggie and Glenn, sneaking away once again. Daryl relaxed at the realization that it was just them and drew his hand away from you. 

“Lucky them.” You grumbled, taking the bottle from him and taking a sip. You were happily buzzed at this point, eager to make conversation but not at the point where you'd make a fool of yourself. 

“Hmm. Yeah.” He agreed, watching as they slipped behind the stables. “Lucky.”

With your newfound courage, you decided to test the waters in a way that you felt seemed completely unsuspecting and not suspicious at all. 

“Must be nice to have someone like that to take your mind off things for a while.” You commented casually, your gaze now back at the stars. 

“Wouldn't know.” His gruff reply gave you motivation to push on. 

“Yeah, me neither.” You couldn't think of the words that wouldn't possibly spook him off. Little did you know, Daryl wasn't some cornered frightful animal, he was thinking of the same things and worse than you. He'd been looking at you, his chest rising and falling in short quick breaths, his eyes all over your body beside him. 

“Those stars look better laying down.” He felt like an obviously desperate teenager after saying that, but when you immediately laid down on the blanket he smirked a bit. Maybe it wasn't such a stupid suggestion. 

He took a deep sip of wine and looked over you, noticing you'd changed back into your jean shorts after dinner. It was odd, he thought, considering the chill in the air, but he wasn't complaining. The way he looked at your bare legs was akin to someone on a diet looking at a plate of fresh, hot salty fries. His mouth watered, not from the idea of fries, but from the idea of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thighs so hard you'd be littered with bruises. 

Daryl wanted to touch you so goddamn bad. But being him, he was too disgusted by the idea of getting the nerve to reach out and touch your thigh and having you pull away, shout at him, storm off and never talk to him again. 

And you being you, you were too terrified at the idea of making the first move and getting a similar reaction. 

So you stared up at the stars, forcing yourself to concentrate, before that last bit of wine spread through your body and gave you enough confidence to look at him. 

A buzzed smile spread on your lips when you saw he was already looking at you. And not your face either, but your thighs, and to gauge his reaction you trailed your hand down your torso to casually rest at the bottom of your shorts. You toyed with it, a bit, pretending you had an itch under the fabric and slipping your fingers under the hem. 

He looked at your face then. 

“You look real good.” He blurted, and froze at his words, ready to get up and bolt if you reacted the wrong way. 

“You look really pretty.” You responded without thinking, earning a look of confusion from him. “I mean, in a good way, like you could model in one of those underground fashion shows-” You cut yourself off before you could humiliate yourself further, but the grin on his face put you at ease. And made you a little tiny bit bolder. 

Neither of you knew what to say. He suddenly grabbed the wine and took an exceptionally impressive sip, leaving the bottle half empty. 

It was a few moments before either of you spoke again. 

“What did you do before this?” You asked, trying to ease the tension enough to relax the both of you. 

He snorted at that question, shaking his head and looking away from you. “Same as everyone else. Lived. Paid for food.”

You took that as the best answer you'd get from him and decided to use the boldness you'd earned from the alcohol. 

“Did you have a girlfriend?” 

He must've found your question amusing, because he snorted. “Psh. No. You got a boyfriend?” 

You noticed his question was in the present tense, not past like yours. “No.” 

He grunted and shifted in his spot so his forearms rested on his knees. He toyed with the grass for a bit, snapping off blades and picking them apart into little green confetti pieces. 

Daryl gave up on talking. He looked down at you again, seeing you were looking at the stars again, but not really seeing them. With the wine induced confidence he wasn't sure if he was thankful for yet, he reached out for you, his fingertips ghosting your knee. His eyes flickered to your face, and when he saw the expression it held there, he decided he was very grateful for the wine.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your lips parted and your eyebrows a bit furrowed. It was funny, with that look you'd think he had slipped his hands in your shorts. And when his hand fully pressed down on your thigh you closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, your body giving a billion silent ‘finally, finally, yes, yes, yes’. 

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for a while.” His gravelly voice sent chills through your entire body. 

“I can't stop thinking about it.” You admitted. 

“Yeah?” Your confession had him spinning, his hand now in the pocket of your shorts, two of his fingers dipping in to pull the two of you closer together. 

You found it hard to speak, so you settled on a whiny and desperate ‘Uh-huh’. 

He smirked down at you, his fingers back at your inner thigh. His touch was lazy, but deliberate, his rough fingers slipping up your thigh to the top of your shorts again. He ached to tease you, watch you whimper and squirm under you, but it was getting progressively harder. He glanced over his shoulder at the house, seeing all the windows dark besides Beth's bedroom. He then looked over the moonlit field, concerned for a moment about walkers, but when he saw the fence he felt all concern melt away. 

Daryl's hand continued roaming over your body, relishing in each little whimper being pulled from your throat. The thought that he was doing this to you, it was him making you into this needy little mess, it gave him a new sense of pride he hadn't felt in a long time. 

“You look real damn good.” He repeated his earlier compliment. The way you looked laying down beside him, your long sleeve shirt pushed up around your stomach, your chest rising and falling sharply, had his heart racing despite the buzz he had going on. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, sending a shiver through him at the sound of it. Your body arched into his touch, desperate to have his hand move from your stomach either up or down. 

“You feel real damn good too.” He muttered, loving the way your body was responding to his touch. 

“God. So do you.” You breathed out a long exhale, looking up at him like he was the prettiest thing above you, not the stars. 

“Yeah?” His voice had taken on a higher pitch, a bit teasing, making you involuntarily whimper at the sound of it. He suddenly took it up ten notches, sliding his hand up your shirt to your breast. You had to bite back the moan that you knew would either call walkers or humans if you made it. While he played with your nipple, rougher than you expected, his other hand popped open the button on your shorts. 

You didn't have time to be impressed before his hand shoved its way through your tight shorts to your panties, catching you completely off guard with how suddenly forward it was. A strangled groan and the sight of your eyes squeezing shut had him teasing you again. “S’been a while, huh?” 

You nodded frantically, biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your legs trembled, moving apart so he could move his hand easier. He eagerly took advantage of the new space and moved his fingers through the sides of your panties, beelining for your clit. You weren't sure if it was experience, or if he just wasn't stupid, but the way he rubbed your embarrassingly slick clit had your head reeling. 

“You want me to take care of this little ache you got goin’ on?” The fact his southern drawl had gotten much stronger was almost enough to make you cum. Coupled with the dirty words he was saying, which was something you didn't expect from Daryl at all, your face burned with embarrassment. 

“Please.” You choked out, your hands gripping onto the blanket under you, having no idea what to do with your hands. 

He put more weight on his hands as he shuffled so close that he was basically on top of you. His middle finger slid into you, and the feigned cockiness quickly left his body when he felt you. He didn't know if he'd last more than ten seconds inside you. You were unbearably hot and wet. And just by the way you squeezed his finger, he couldn't imagine how that would feel on something bigger like his dick. 

Your worries were right, your orgasm came so fast you were humiliated. He'd barely curled his fingers inside you a few times, something you had to teach him through your haze, and you groaned, low and guttural.

His eyes widened when he realized what was happening, your orgasm catching him off guard. He took his hand that was busy pinching your incredibly sore nipples and clamped it firmly over your mouth, muffling your cries, even though they were enough to give him enough material to jerk his dick to for months. 

He'd need to find somewhere he could let you scream in peace. But for now, he'd have you right here, keep his hand over your mouth and fuck you into the grass. 

Daryl watched you come undone under his fingers like it would be the last time he'd ever see it. Memorizing the way your hips rolled up into his hand, the way they pulled away when you arched your back. The way your eyebrows pulled tightly together, then the way they relaxed as you rode out your high, your eyes fluttering like they couldn't decide on opening or staying closed. 

“Jesus Christ woman.” He breathed, his eyes dark and wild, like he'd just watched a miracle being performed in front of him. To Daryl it was. He felt an unbridled sense of satisfaction knowing he was the one who did that to you. 

You relaxed fully, your hips pulling away from his rough fingers and thumb, which were still stroking your clit. 

“Ain't done with you yet.” He pulled his hand from your shorts, leaving a trail of shimmering wetness on your stomach. 

“God. You're so pretty.” You said breathlessly, looking up at him again with that damn look on your face as you struggled to sit up to take your clothes off.

“You think I'm pretty? Yeah? C'mon then, show me.” He grabbed your hands, bringing them to his chest, forcing you to touch him. Your mind spun, still recovering from the first orgasm you'd had in god knows how long, trying to take over control as he used your hands to unbutton his plaid button up, not caring if you saw him shirtless because of how dark it was. The red one with the sleeves torn off,  it was your favorite. It was almost a loss to see him remove it, that was until he brought your hands back to touch his chest again. 

You decided you liked his direction, and let him move your hands down his chest to his jeans. Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle, messing up one too many times. He unbuckled it for you, deciding he was too impatient to wait on you, undoing his jeans and tugging them down just enough to get his cock out. 

When he finally tugged it out you tried your best to memorize every single detail about it. The glint of the moon on the bead of precum at the slit, the way the tip was darker than the pale base, the way his unruly pubes looked exactly like you'd imagined. 

Your hands reached out to grab the length of his cock and he sucked in a sharp breath, his head tipping back as he muttered out a string of curses you couldn't understand through his thick accent. 

He was so fucking glad he jerked off in his tent before he came out to meet you. Or else just that touch alone would've had him busting in your hands. 

The sound of him spitting into his hand made your core do that flip and you let out a shaky breath, watching as he rubbed his palm over the tip of his cock. 

He said nothing as he manhandled you, pushing your shorts right down your thighs, ignoring your little sound of surprise. He pulled you into his lap, and the way he took full control of your body like you were a puppet had you growing wetter than you thought possible. He moved you like you weighed nothing, one hand holding your side in a firm grip to keep you hovering over his dick. He was going to spit again, but you sank down against him and he felt how wet you were, he sputtered out a groan and swallowed his spit. 

He reached down between you and grabbed his dick, trying to guide it to the right spot in the confusion of his lust clouded brain and how wet and hot everything felt. You grabbed his hand and aimed it right at your soaking entrance, and sank your hips down. 

His head barely nudged against your entrance before it slid away, up through your lips and bumping your sensitive clit roughly. You hissed at the feeling and he grunted in irritation. 

“Here-” You pulled back from him, which he objected to for a split second, the idea of you separating from him not an option he wanted to consider. But when you started laying down on your back he moved forward on top of you, grabbing your thigh to hike it up over his waist. 

The new angle made things much easier, although your tightness still proved to be a slight inconvenience. You cursed yourself for being so sexually inactive, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt the burn of his tip slowly pushing inside you. 

His mouth found your neck as he lowered his body flat on yours, his weight nearly crushing your chest under his. He kissed your neck as he felt the resistance finally give, his head popping inside you and the rest of his dick pushing forward easier. 

You still saw stars when you closed your eyes, your body freezing from the mind numbing pleasure at the feeling of him filling you in a way you'd either never experienced, or had long forgotten. When the burn of the intrusion finally gave away and melted into complete bliss you relaxed under him, your hips angling up to drive him deeper. 

Daryl groaned in your neck, the sound stuttered as he fought to gain his bearings. His hand tugging his dick to the thought of you was something he never thought he'd top. The feeling of you wrapped around it was something he knew he'd never top. 

The tension between you broke and he finally began moving, dragging his dick out painfully slowly before plunging it back in, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle he'd been working on his whole life. 

He let out a low groan, sinking his teeth into the meat of your neck and bringing a high pitched cry from your mouth. 

“Nuh-uh.” He panted, his hips picking up a faster pace as he pulled away from your neck. “You gotta be quiet, sweetheart.” 

“Mhmm!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to look at him above you. His eyes dark, his mouth open as he breathed heavily, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. The sight had you arching your back, making him groan at the feeling of you squeezing and pulling on his dick. He really did look so fucking pretty. 

Daryl looked down at you, eyes tracing over your face twisted in pleasure, and he felt you grow wetter around him. The way your body responded to him had him trembling. He couldn't get enough of you. He needed more. He grabbed your hips, his grip firm enough to keep you in place as he sped up. 

The quickening of his rough thrusts had your head lolling to the side, each thrust knocking a breathless moan from your lips. They were quiet, to be heard by him alone, which was more than enough for him. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he fought to keep his composure, the last bit of him that he had under control worried about possibly hurting you. 

But that concern quickly went out the window when you started begging. 

“Please.” Your words bubbled from your chest, hot and desperate. “Please!”

“Please what?” He hissed, his brows furrowed in confusion as he fucked deep into you. “Use your words, tell me whatcha want. I'll give it to you.” 

“More, please, I don't know.” You babbled under him, trying your best to stay quiet. “Harder, more, I don't-” 

He moved on you, suddenly putting all the weight of his upper body into his grip on your hips, right before he started fucking you so hard you lost the ability to speak. 

Each thrust sent a bolt of sharp and deep pleasure through your pussy, up your body and ending with a tingle on your scalp. You couldn't moan, even if you wanted to, his movements were so rough it felt like each snap of his hips knocked the air from your lungs. You knew there'd be a deep imprint of your ass in the dirt tomorrow from how much weight he was boring down on you, and the sensation of that alone made your head spin. 

Your sharp gasps that were in sync with his thrusts neared a dangerous volume, and he slowed his hips, using the opportunity to catch his breath. 

“Ya gotta be quiet. M’serious.” He whispered, his thumbs pressing down on the sides of your stomach when your whimpers had yet to cease. “Gonna have to stop.”

You spewed out a soft stream of no’s, your hands wrapping around his wrists as if you had the strength to keep him there. “I will, sorry.”

He nodded in response and carried back on with quicker thrusts, his mouth open as he sucked in shaky breaths. Daryl couldn't take his eyes off you. He wished he had met you a year ago, before all this happened, so he could fuck you without worrying about walkers, getting caught, he wanted desperately to hear every sound he earned from you. He was the reason you were a broken mess; he deserved to hear and have all of you. 

Your right hand let go of his wrist to snake under his stomach, your flat fingers rubbing firm massages on your greedy clit. The sight had a choked moan sounding from his throat and you whined in response, the sound sending long bolts of pleasure through your core. 

“Daryl, so close.” You whispered, your toes curling from their spot at the base of his spine. 

He understood your meaning and set a steadier pace, not too rough or fast, but deep and steady enough to guarantee your final orgasm, since his first with you was approaching. 

Daryl wasn't stupid, he meant to pull out, truly, but when you came and squeezed his cock like a fist, he couldn't help it. His body trembled and he choked, gasping and whimpering as he came with you. 

Your jaw dropped and you saw more than stars, you saw the whole damn galaxy. Daryl quickly pressed his hand over your mouth to muffle your obscene moans, his hips stuttering as he finished the last drop in his orgasm. 

“My God. My God. Oh my God.” You panted after he removed his hand, your eyes bleary and wet, your body vibrating with exhausted shakes as your ecstasy slowly faded away. Your hands and feet felt cold and numb, and when he pulled away it felt like someone had taken something from you. You whimpered in a soft objection as his wrist left your grip. 

“Goddamn.” He sat back to stuff his raw dick back in his jeans, twitching when he felt the uncomfortable friction from his boxers, it was too stimulating. 

It took you some time to put your clothes back on, when you were finally dressed you were too exhausted to do anything but lay there on the blanket and catch your breath. 

Neither of you spoke for a while, sitting in silence to regain your bearings and enjoy the final moments of buzz from sex. As soon as he came down from his high, he grabbed the abandoned bottle of wine and drank nearly the rest of it. 

“I'm gonna go shower.” You breathed, sitting upright to find your shoes and put them back on. 

“G’night.” He muttered between swigs.

“Goodnight Daryl. That was amazing.” You thanked him with a quick kiss that seemed to startle him.

He sucked his teeth in embarrassment, waving you off as if to say, ‘it's nothing'. He watched you walk away, scratching the backs of your arms, itching from the grass. Daryl turned back to the woods and finished the bottle before chucking it into the field, eventually leaving for his tent, bringing your blanket with him. 

You took the best bath you could manage with your supplies; it wasn't as satisfying as a hot shower with your old fancy soaps and shampoos, but you were too exhausted to do more than just clean yourself. You barely even wrapped your hair with a towel before tripping into your room and falling on your bed. 

You yelped when you felt something hard like at your back and you leaned up on your elbow to see a small box with a note. 

From Lori. Use these next time. -Maggie

You sighed in relief when you saw it was emergency contraceptives and a pack of condoms, despite the pit in your stomach from knowing Maggie had seen you. It was something you should have already planned for yourself, the condoms, but it was hard to think straight when you were horny over Daryl Dixon. 

SHANE JUMPSCAPRE

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

Daryl’s Photographer

he pretends like he doesn’t see you taking pictures of him

(images from pinterest, not mine)

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: God Bless the Horny French

(Pic from fitjackets)

Warnings/Mentions: Unprotected sex, extreme aphrodisiac, rushed sex, creampies, uncomfortable wetness at end

Summary: Daryl is accidentally exposed to an experimental extreme aphrodisiac while on a run. He tries to hold himself back, but eventually gives in and begs the reader to help him.

Notes: Chat what I gotta do to get this 🙏 God I hope I fixed all the typos

It happened fast. You almost didn't see it. A quick glimmer of clear liquid splashing on the archer after he backed right into a shelf, sending broken shards of glass clattering across the tile floor. Multiple other bottles fell alongside him. He barely managed to avoid any of those busting on his head.

“Jesus, you okay?” Andrea was looking him over despite his aggressive insistence that he was fine. 

“We need to split up.” Rick decided after pacing around the room with his hands on his hips. 

“This place is huge man. There's no way-”

Rick cut Shane off. “Exactly why we need to split up. Daryl, how's your leg?”

You straightened your back out after finally catching your breath. Daryl’s leg wasn't in the best shape, he'd twisted his ankle after missing a step on the staircase. 

Going to another government facility after the CDC incident wasn't the best idea Rick had come up with. The area of the building you were in appeared to be some sort of pharmaceutical manufacturer, judging by the rooms you'd gone through holding lab coats and shelves of all sorts of different pills. The room you were currently using as a safe room had several shelves of glass bottles, and Daryl had just gotten god knows what spilled all over his skin. 

“S'fine. Nothin' I ain't never dealt with.” Daryl tried to prove his point by pushing himself off the wall he leaned on, but the stumble and grimace on his face proved otherwise. 

Shane rolled his eyes and groaned, hands reaching up to hold the back of his head. “Alright. Alright. Rick. C'mere.” 

The two of them had a quiet discussion near the exit of the room, Shane glancing over at Daryl several times. You tried not to stare at them as they spoke, forcing yourself to look at Daryl instead. 

He didn't look too hot. He was leaning against the counter now, palms on the surface behind him and his twisted ankle resting limply on the floor. His face looked red, and the longer you watched him, the more you swore you could see about a million different expressions on his face. 

His eyes flashed up and caught you staring. Your heart dropped ten stories and you quickly looked away with burning cheeks. You could feel him staring you down for a few long seconds before he finally looked away. 

“Here's the plan.” Rick waved everyone over. “You four are gonna clear a way back to the ground floor. You two, take the top floor and do a quick sweep, just in case there's something useful. Daryl, you're gonna stay here until we come back to get you.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you watched Daryl immediately argue. It lasted a while, to your surprise, until eventually Rick shut him up with a good ole “you'll just slow us down, we need to get back to the folks on the highway”, and they left. 

You'd chosen to stay behind with Daryl, for obvious reasons. One, you really liked the guy and wanted to make sure he wouldn't die to some lab made poison, and two, you wanted to be able to help if walkers got in the room and there were too many for him to take care of with his crossbow.

“Your skin isn't melting yet, so that's good.” You chuckled as you squatted next to the shards of broken glass that he busted. You picked at the pieces carefully, eventually finding a chunk with the label still on. 

“Wha’s it say?” He grunted from his spot. He was sitting on a counter near the door you'd come in, fiddling with his crossbow, loading and unloading the same bolt. 

He was clearly very uncomfortable, frequently shifting around and making faces. 

“Uhhh…” you squinted at the label. Whatever liquid inside the bottle had caused the ink to smudge, but you wouldn't have been able to understand it either way. “I don't know. I think it's in French.” 

“Look over there.” You glanced at Daryl as he spoke, seeing him tip his head towards the back door of the room where the others had left. “Saw a few journals on that table. Might be somethin’ in there.”

“Okay. Cross your fingers there's an antidote or something.” You crossed your own fingers and stood up. 

Deciding to start with the journal on top, you flipped through the pages. They were all in English, thankfully. Most of the information was on things you knew nothing about, and it felt like you might as well have been reading French. You got through ten papers when you heard Daryl let out a groan.

Thinking he was in pain, you dropped the journal back on the table and rushed to his side. He was propped up against the counter now, no longer sitting on it, biting his bottom lip. 

“Are you okay?” You reached out for his shoulder and he slunk away from you. It was like touching a dog that had been beaten its whole life. “What's going on, talk to me.”

Daryl shook his head and swallowed another groan. “Nothin'. M'fine.” He said after a moment, and straightened himself out. “S'fine. Keep lookin'.”

“Are you sure?” You didn't want to push it, but if he was beginning to feel side effects from whatever it was that spilled on him, you needed to know. 

“Yeah. Go on.” He tipped his head towards the table again and you nodded, watching him for a few seconds before going back to searching. 

After a while, maybe four minutes, Daryl sat down on the floor in front of his counter. He'd let out occasional whimpers, clearing his throat after every one as if he was embarrassed. 

Worry was eating away at you at this point, and your eyes scanned across the pages as fast as possible. Finally, your eyes landed upon the familiar French words. Your heart rate quickened and you forced yourself to read even faster, your eyes catching the words “pheromones”, “aphrodisiac”, and “primitive and primal behavior”.

Glancing over at Daryl on the floor, you nearly gasped when you saw him.

He had a thin sheen of sweat on his face, his bottom lip swollen from him biting and chewing on it. His eyes looked foggy, and he was struggling to keep them open. There was also a very noticable bulge in his pants, one that he was trying his damnedest to keep his hands off of.

You found yourself asking why the fuck someone would make something like this as you flipped the page. It seemed like some sort of experimental drug, something to boost sex drive in men and women, but according to the notes you read, the effects were much more intense than planned. 

There'd only been three tests done before the outbreak happened, and they were only done on women. 

‘When exposed to the mixture, females initially had no response. Amount of exposure seems to have no significance. No response until ten minutes, first reactions include sensitivity to genitals and sweating.’

You swallowed hard and looked back to Daryl. His eyes were closed now, and his breathing had become much more noticeable, his chests rising and falling with heavy breaths. 

‘After five minutes, subjects begin to make noises of discomfort, having to sit or lie down. Ten minutes after the initial complaints, subjects are unable to keep their hands off themselves, having to stroke and rub their arms, legs, and stomach. Shortly after this touching begins, it deviates to self pleasure. The drug wears off after three orgasms for females.’

At the end of the notes, there was a final bullet. ‘Will test on males next week and record results.’

You pursed your lips and looked over at Daryl again. He looked miserable. How long had it been since he started whining? He was clenching his fists and letting out quiet grunts, shifting uncomfortably on the ground. 

You picked up the journal and walked over to him, taking long but quiet steps, not wanting to startle him. His eyes were still closed when you were only a few feet in front of him. 

“I have good news.” You started. 

At the sound of your voice Daryl forced his eyes open and looked up at you, his pupils blown and his cheeks red. His eyes were half lidded, eyebrows raised in the middle like he was in great pain. 

“Can you tell me what you're feeling first? So I know this is the same thing?”

Daryl's head rolled to the side against the counter behind him, and he sighed. His right hand slid up his arm, and he began stroking his bicep. Your eyes followed the movement of his fingers and you found it impossible to look away. “So goddamn sensitive. Everythin’ is.” 

His eyes flicked up to you and you could tell he was debating on saying something. After a few seconds of silence he looked away. “Feels like I took a whole damn bottle of Viagra.”

You kneeled down next to him and reached out to touch his knee in an attempt at comfort, forgetting for a moment what he'd been exposed to. He choked on a moan and yanked his knee away from you, his hand quickly replacing yours and squeezing his knee. 

“Don't touch me.” He grumbled and moved his hand up to squeeze his thigh. “Jus' tell me what it is.”

“See for yourself.” You handed him the open journal, and he weakly took it from your hands. 

His eyes widened and his nostrils flared as he read, glancing up at you over the page multiple times. 

It was so quiet. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. 

“If a subject is not allowed to relieve themselves…” Daryl trailed off as he read and groaned. 

“What?”

“Intense cramping, nausea, vomiting, and migraines will occur for the following three to five hours.” After reading the words aloud he thumped his head against the counter again. If the situation wasn't so serious, you would've been amused at the sound of his thick southern accent speaking in full and technical words.

“So, what, you just need to jerk off?” You shrugged your mouth and looked back at Daryl from the paper. “That's easy.”

You were trying your best to sound as nonchalant as possible considering how embarrassed he was. 

“I'll be fine.” He scoffed and tossed the journal back at you. You barely caught it and set it down on the floor beside him before rising to your feet. “I'll wait it out. Barely got any of the shit on me anyway.”

You knew he'd eventually give in, but you didn't want to make this any worse for him. So you started walking around the room, pretending to take interest in the numerous bottles and files. 

Maybe Daryl was right, maybe he could push through it. You'd seen him do things you couldn't imagine trying to do yourself. He had the stamina and the iron will to get through it. If anyone could, Daryl could. 

You snuck a peek at him through a shelf, your eyes landing on him between a bottle of suspicious green liquid and a disgusting jar full of a brown substance. 

“Oh god.” You breathed. 

Daryl was palming himself through his jeans, his head leaning against the counter, eyes closed, and sweat trickling down his neck. 

He looked absolutely irresistible. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, no matter how bad you felt watching. 

He whimpered out your name and you almost busted your head on the shelf from standing upright so quickly. 

“Yeah?” Your voice cracked and you ran a hand through your hair to sweep it back out of your face. 

“C'mere.”

You walked out from behind the shelf and approached him slowly, trying to hide your surprise when he hadn't stopped what he was doing. He barely looked up at you, his face red with embarrassment and shame. 

“Read more.” He kicked his leg out, sending the journal he'd thrown at you sliding across the floor to your feet. “Find somethin’. S’gotta be a way to reverse it. Or some shit. Dunno, jus’ stop starin’ at me and do somethin’.”

You sighed and sat down on the floor in front of him after grabbing the journal. You knew already that there was no antidote, there was no cure, only a solution, and he was already halfway there. 

You humored him though, and opened it up back to the page you'd marked. Any information on that specific drug ended right at the last note, the next page was on another experimental drug, this one for a more efficient stimulant for soldiers. 

“Find anythin’?” He huffed and you looked back up to him from the page. He looked no better than the last time you'd looked at him, maybe even a little worse. He had stopped touching himself through his jeans though, apparently strong enough to deny his body what it so desperately craved. 

“No. I'm sorry.” You whispered and his face twisted at your words. “Seriously Daryl, just jerk off or something. I'll go stand in the hall.”

“Y’ain't goin’ out there alone.” He shook his head as another bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. 

“Okay, then I'll stand in the corner and plug my ears. But you really need to just get it over with. It's bad enough you twisted your ankle, we'll all be fucked if you've got all those other side effects. Do you know how bad a migraine really is, Daryl? You won't be able to do anything.”

Daryl finally looked at you with a grimace. He only managed a few seconds of eye contact before his eyes traveled lower, down to your chest. His pupils dilated further when he saw down your shirt from the angle you were in, cross legged and slightly leaned over towards him. 

The sight had him groaning again and he tossed his head back to thump against the wooden counters. 

“Get.” He hissed through clenched teeth and flicked his head to the corner. “Go on. Get.”

You got up and walked to the corner, putting your fingers in your ears and humming. You played it cool, like this was a normal day for you, but you were dying inside. 

Dying knowing Daryl fucking Dixon was behind you, touching himself, his dick, probably moaning, his head tilted back, mouth hanging open…

The mental image had wetness pooling between your legs.

At that exact moment you realized you could see him in the reflection of the window you were looking out of.

He looked incredible. His dick in his hand, his free hand squeezing his thigh. His head was tilted back, and his mouth was hanging open. Just like you'd imagined.

It was hard to see his dick in the reflection, though with what little you could see, it looked perfect. In every way. It would fit you perfectly.

You were starting to wonder if you'd been exposed to the drug as well, because it was getting harder and harder to keep your hands off yourself. You had picked up the shards a few minutes ago and they were still wet. You'd wiped your fingers off immediately afterwards, but maybe that wasn't enough.

You quickly reached down between your legs and roughly pressed your fingers against your jeans, right over your clit, sighing softly at the desperately needed friction. You brought your hand back up to plug your ear again, not before hearing him moan.

Oh god. He sounded so fucking good. Your finger froze right outside your ear hole, and it took a lot to actually start plugging your ear again.

Then you heard him call your name.

You whirled around so fast you nearly fell over. “Uh-huh? Yes?”

Seeing it for yourself and not through a reflection sent a pleasurable flip through your lower stomach and you bit back a moan.

“C'mere…” he croaked.

You were in front of him in seconds, kneeling on the floor before his feet with your sweaty palms pressed against your knees.

“It ain't workin’.” He panted. You looked down to see his dick, red from his furious strokes and covered in a shocking amount of precum. “Can't- I can't. Dunno, jus’, I can't-”

“I'm so sorry.” You wanted to reach out and comfort him, he really did look like he was in agony. It broke your heart.

“Can ya’...”

Your eyes widened as he trailed off. His strokes were growing slower, although he hadn't stopped completely, and his breathing had grown more ragged. His eyes were on your face and you felt violent chills run down your spine at the intensity in his gaze.

“Can I what?” You whispered.

“Help.” His upper lip curled in what looked like disgust. He forced himself to look away and sucked in a shaky breath. “It hurts like hell an’-”

“Oh, Daryl, I don't know.” Your voice trembled and you looked towards the door they'd all left from. “They might be back soon.”

“Then quit your cryin’ an’ help.” He snapped. The hardness of his tone had your eyes flashing back to his face. Your immediate reaction was to snap back at him like you always did when he got smart with you. The pitiful expression he held made your heart soften, so you held back your words.

“But isn't this like…” you chose your words carefully. “Like… not very ethical?”

Daryl groaned and thumped his head against the wood again in annoyance. “Ain't the first time I jerked off to ya. S'that what ya’ wanna hear?”

The heat you felt moments ago flooded back to your core at full force and you nodded.

You took one last glance at the exit door and crawled forward. You waited for him to stop touching himself, and after a few seconds of that not happening you reached out and wrapped your hand around the tip.

Daryl immediately threw his head back again and let out a string of moans. The sound was almost enough to make you tear your clothes off and fuck him right then and there.

He thrusted up into your fist, desperate and needy.

“Hey, I need you to say least try to control yourself.” You placed a firm hand on his lower stomach, holding his body against the surface behind him.

“Fuck. M'sorry. Sorry.” Apologies bubbled out from his mouth and he closed his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing tightly together. “Jus' get it over with,” he added much softer, “please.”

There was a part of you that enjoyed seeing him like this. Squirming, sweating, begging, it was something that would've been adorably pathetic if not for the extreme aphrodisiac.

“God. You poor thing.” You hummed and continued what you were doing. You pulled your hand back long enough to spit into your open palm. He groaned at the loss of contact, the same groan turning to a desperate moan when your wet hand returned to his swollen cock.

When you tightened your fist and started twisting your hand at the tip he gasped, bending a leg at the knee like he was trying to stand.

“Uh-uh.” You grabbed him by his collar and dragged him down hard, forcing him to fall back flat against the cool tile floor. “Stay still.”

“Sorry.” He sounded like he was close to crying. He couldn't take much more of this, that was obvious. With your free hand you massaged his balls, trying not to drool when you felt how tight they already were.

“Ain't workin'. Need ya’.”

You looked back up to his face and swallowed a whimper. He was looking right at you, panting heavily with his lips parted.

“Daryl, I'm not gonna fuck you.” You hissed and glanced towards the door again. “What if they walk in, huh? What if those walkers back there bust right through that front door?”

Daryl opened his mouth to argue right as your walkie made a sharp noise of static.

It was Rick, calling your name. You pulled one hand away from him to answer, your other hand still stroking his cock.

“What?”

“Y'all okay?”

You looked over Daryl again and sighed. “Yeah. What's up?”

“It's pretty rough up here. We got most back in the cars, but there's a big group of walkers by the staircase. Gonna be another ten minutes, at least.”

“Okay. Thank you for checking in.”

“Of course. Hang in there Daryl.”

The second you took your finger off the button he was on you.

It all happened so fast you couldn't really process it. All you knew is you were the one with your back on the floor.

Daryl loomed over you for a moment, taking in the way you looked under him. He dipped down and kissed you roughly, moaning into your mouth and kicking your knees apart with his knee. His bare cock ground against your pants like an animal in heat, and the friction made him grunt.

He broke away from your mouth and licked your spit off his bottom lip. “Got ‘nough time. C'mon.” He lowered his head again and nipped at your neck, humping pathetically against you between your thighs.

“Fuck, just wait a second, let me think.” Your eyes were wide in shock as you struggled to process what was happening.

His fingers dug past the waistband of your jeans, tugging on them so hard your body scooted a few inches down the floor. He grunted with irritation and went for your button, fighting to get it undone before unzipping your pants and yanking them down your thighs before you could protest.

“Jesus Christ Daryl.” You sputtered, but didn't object. You lifted your hips off the floor to aid his mission, and soon enough he made quick work in shimmying your pants off your legs.

Your panties came off with your pants, thankfully, you didn't want him to see you in your apocalypse underwear. Gray and covered in holes.

He was back between your thighs the moment your legs were free, grinding his dick against your cunt as if he was too impatient to take the few seconds to insert himself, needing the friction again that badly.

His dick was absolutely soaked, with his own precum and your spit. You were slick as well, so all he needed was to rub himself between your folds a few times to coat the both of you in enough lubricant.

Daryl let out a deep groan and bit his bottom lip, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your scent, the smell of sweat, stale shampoo, and campfire smoke better than any perfume he'd ever smelled on a woman.

You were busy enjoying the feeling of his dick slipping between your folds and grinding against your clit, not noticing that he'd wrapped his hand around the base of himself.

Without any sort of warning he pushed himself past your tight ring of muscles, sending a jolt of stabbing pain through your core and down your legs. The action took your breath away and you were momentarily stunned, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as you sucked in a deep gasp.

“Fuck!” You squealed. You grabbed his shoulders and tried to push yourself up along the floor and away from him.

“No, no no-” Daryl groaned and grabbed your hips, pulling you back down on his pelvis, “M'sorry, please.” He peppered the side of your face with messy kisses, much like a pet that knows they did something worthy of punishment. “Fuck, m’so sorry. Don't. Don't.” His upper body laid on top of you, trapping you between the hard floor and his chest. “S'okay. Yer okay.”

You nodded quickly and swallowed the painful lump in your throat. Despite his demanding actions he hadn't moved once fully inside you, allowing you a few seconds to adjust before he was back to his impatient behavior.

Being filled by Daryl Dixon was indescribable. You weren't sure if he was always that thick, or if it was just the effects of the drug, much like the way it had made him produce copious amounts of precum. He stretched you so much it could very easily be uncomfortable if there hadn't been so much lubricant from the two of you.

He pulled out and thrusted back in, slow but deep, and all that original pain melted into equally deep pleasure.

You let your head rest against the tile and tried to ignore the pain of your body being pressed so tightly against the floor.

As hot as floor sex was, your bones were screaming beneath you. As Daryl continued his deep and steady pace you glanced around the room for anything that could help alleviate the uncomfortableness.

“Daryl-” your word broke into a long moan when he suddenly began fucking you much, much faster, his hips slamming forward so quick and rough that your body began sliding up the floor again.

That annoyed Daryl, and he let out a deep growl of annoyance.

“Look.” You nodded your head towards a mat, one that was similar to the ones they'd have in gymnasiums. It was placed on top of one of the back tables, an item that was suspiciously out of place for the type of room you were in.

Daryl lifted your head from your neck. He looked at you for a second before his eyes rose from your face to follow your gaze. He nodded and reluctantly pulled himself out of you. The moment his dick was out he wrapped his fingers around it, pumping himself so fast you were sure he'd give himself a friction burn.

You crossed the room as fast as you could without running, grabbing the suspicious mat and bringing it back over to him.

It wasn't very thick or comfortable, but your bones cried out in relief when you laid down on it. If Daryl wasn't so focused on cramming his dick back inside you he would've appreciated the feeling on his knees as well.

You tossed your head back against the mat as he buried himself inside you with one powerful thrust. Daryl groaned beside your ear as he picked up a slow, but very deep pace. The way he held your hips a few inches above the ground made sure he'd damn near hit your cervix with every thrust.

After a few seconds of trying to adjust yourself so his thrusts wouldn't be too uncomfortable, you were finally able to relax. That only lasted a second, and then you felt something cold and wet on your bottom lip.

Your tongue darted out and licked the liquid, something you surmised to be instinct. You opened your eyes to see Daryl rubbing his forefinger across your lip, the skin of his fingers slightly glistening with wetness.

“What?” You breathed out with furrowed brows.

“Sh-sh-sh.” His shushing only fueled your confusion and you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows.

Daryl simply pushed you back down on your back with an arm across your chest. “S'okay. It'll make it better, promise.”

Your eyes widened with realization. “Why'd you do that?” Your words ended with a groan when he began kissing the base of your jaw, right under your ear. “You didn't need-”

“Feels so good. Trust me.” He nipped your skin with harsh teeth and you squealed behind pursed lips, your eyes squeezing shut.

“Gonna feel so good. Never gonna wanna stop.” He pulled you down harder on his cock and started rolling his hips up into you faster. Your moans increased in volume, hopefully going unheard by anyone else in the building.

Something about the noises you made had Daryl groaning into your skin. They were so primal, your noises of ecstasy completely unfiltered, and he found himself pounding harder into your slick cunt in response.

“Oh god Daryl!” You gasped and clenched around him.

He was certainly right. The drug smeared across your lips had heightened all your senses. You could feel the shape of his tip diving deep inside you, you could feel the enlarged veins on his length, his unruly pubes brushing against your clit.

You could smell all of him, his sweat, his pheromones, his manly musk that had your walls tightening around him.

Daryl's jaw dropped and he snapped his hips forward. “J-jesus!” He gasped. He raised his head from your neck just enough to smash his lips against yours, not giving warning before shoving his thick wet tongue between your lips.

“Gonna cum.” You whimpered into his greedy mouth. He just nodded, not breaking the kiss, and continued fucking you into the gym mat.

“Oh I'm gonna fuckin’ fill this pussy.” He suddenly groaned. The words, something you knew he'd never say without being all sex drugged, had your orgasm bulldozing a moan from your throat. You didn't give a shit that the dirty talk was drug induced, your body wanted him to do exactly that and it was going to ensure he did so.

“Mmm-oh god yes please.” You cried out as your orgasm shook through your body. It was like nothing you'd ever experienced before. Not a single vibrator or toy you'd ever used in your life had made you climax that hard.

Your toes curled until not only your feet cramped but your calves as well. You balled your hands up in the plaid button up over his shoulders, pulling him as tight as possible against your chest.

The noise that left Daryl's mouth had your orgasmic tremors continuing a few more seconds. He pressed his lips against yours again, making you swallow the long and gravelly groan he let out.

His hands squeezed the flesh around your hips and yanked you down on his cock, at the same time thrusting forward as hard as his body would allow. He held your hips tightly in place as he emptied himself within you, letting out occasional groans and growls as he came.

Your head spun as your violent orgasm finally began to subside. You didn't realize you'd been holding your breath, and when you did, you had to break away from his wet mouth to blow out a lungful of hot air.

“Fuck.” He growled. He was still weakly humping between your legs. The room was filled with obscene wet sound, and when you came to your senses, you gasped.

Daryl had come a lot.

So much so that it had spilled out around his cock to pool under your ass on the sweaty mat. You could feel it everywhere, between your folds, coating the raw walls inside you, and all in the crack of your ass.

The wet sticky feeling suddenly became extremely uncomfortable. You let out a weak whimper and tried to wiggle out from under him, but his body was heavy and his grip on your hips was tight.

“Hold on, I gotcha.” He whispered in response to your whimpers. He gave a few more quick kisses of comfort on your sweaty neck, his tongue darting out to lick at the beads dripping down your skin.

The feeling of his hot tongue only made your overstimulation much worse and you groaned, scrunching up your nose and eyebrows and wiggling some more.

“Daryl, they're gonna be back any second now.” You whined.

His movements had stopped by now, thankfully, but your sensitive walls could feel his cock throbbing inside you and you whimpered.

“Jus' a few more seconds.”

You took the time to catch your breath. Before you knew it, Daryl was slowly pulling out.

There was still a lot of cum inside you. When he pulled back most of it gushed out, joining the impressive puddle beneath your ass.

Daryl's jaw dropped when he saw the scene before him. Such a large amount of his cum coating you and still trickling out of your hole, it was enough to make him stop and stare.

“Get me a rag or something.” You reached up to wipe the sweat from your forehead.

The sound of heavy boots coming down the hall let you know there wouldn't be time for any of that.

While you scrambled to get your panties and jeans back on, Daryl stuffed his dick back in his pants and flipped the mat over to hide the massive puddle of semen.

You barely jumped into your shoes when the door was flung open, revealing a panting Rick Grimes and a sweaty Shane.

“Come on. It's clear.” Rick called out and you grabbed your bag from the counter behind you. Daryl snatched up his crossbow and half-jogged half-limped after you.

“You okay?” Andrea asked as you all made your way down the stairs. “You look like you were the one out here fighting the dead.”

“Yeah.” You quickly nodded. “Just, you know, trying not to kill that asshole.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes, clearly buying your poor excuse. “Oh, tell me about it.” She snorted.

You ended up having to wrap a jacket around your waist. When you'd jumped up to put your pants back on, cum practically soaked your thighs and ass and you had no time to even attempt to clean it off. It left you with a massive dark spot on your jeans, and a very uncomfortable feeling the entire drive back to the highway.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @daryldove

His breathy grunts holy shit I can literally hear every molecule of carbon dioxide leaving his lungs

THANK you for taking the effort to not only FIND the download, but watch the entire movie and cut this clip for tumblr, you're the best

So my dear fandom. After going on a mission to the depth of internet and DHT exchange. Here I am presenting to you premium HD quality of Norman saying "you dirty little whore"

@heathermason6060 it wouldn't be here without you 😉

MNDI (18+ sexual content)

For others, dim your screens and pop in the earbuds

IM FUCKING SCREAMING???

The way you sent this with no words just pictures no explanation 😭 when did you send this I'm crying????

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.4

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: Daryl starts changing, and Beth brings up the embarrassing memory of your kiss with Daryl back at the farm. The Governer has his final attack, and you crash at a church.

Notes: Starts with Beth at the prison, flashback to super awkward kiss with Daryl, ends with Beth at the hospital. ):

The change was subtle at first, but that doesn't mean you didn't notice it. You just ignored it in the desperate hopes that it wouldn't get any worse.

You had quite a few months of peace. Maybe half a year? You couldn't be sure at that point, but you did know that spring had turned to fall, and with it the idea of permanently residing in the prison becoming something you were content with. You still kept to yourself and Daryl, but you did pick up some extra chores. Instead of the bare minimum you chose jobs you could do outside, or jobs Daryl had taken. If you weren't tending to the gardens, you were with him in the woods, hunting or scavenging, even foraging on the occasion when prey was scarce. 

“Are you and Daryl together?’ Beth had asked so bluntly that you didn't have the mental capability to laugh or curse her out. You stopped picking cherry tomatoes and furrowed your brows in confusion. 

“Why would you ask me that?” 

Beth had a tight and timid smile, shrugging her shoulders and placing another cucumber in her basket. “You two are always around each other, that's all.” 

You shook off the feeling of vulnerability and sucked your teeth. “No. He's just the only one around here who I can stand.”

“Can you stand me?”

You looked at her over the row of chest high plants, seeing her hesitant expression. “Yes. I wouldn't’ve let you join me if that wasn't the case.” It wasn't a lie, you didn't mind being around Beth, even if you think she was the one of the weakest and most naive. Eventually you'd come to the realization that you had her all wrong, in fact, she was stronger than you. At least in the sense of emotional capability. 

Later that week she would end up giving you unwanted advice. She claimed that building walls and keeping everyone out besides yourself would kill you one day, much like the real world, you needed to allow yourself to rely on and trust others. You'd grow angry at her then, lashing out and telling her to mind her own business, you didn't need a therapist. She soon managed to turn into the first person you would apologize to and seek forgiveness from. 

Her questioning of the relationship between you and Daryl had your mind wandering to that night back at her fathers farm.

It was late. Daryl was still recovering from his gunshot wound but he wanted out of that damn house, so he settled for the next best thing to his tent, the back of the RV. Carol insisted he stay nearby, which you agreed to silently, and he begrudgingly accepted. 

You brought him a plate of dinner and sat in the chair next to him, sliding it over before taking one of the small boiled potatoes and popping it in your mouth.

“The hell you wearin’?” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Both pairs of pants were dirty and i didnt feel like walking around camp with my ass out.” You glanced down at the modest dress you’d been leant. You didn't mind it all that much, it was scratchy and tight, but it was kind of pretty. It was a warm yellow dress that ended below your knees with little white flowers and dots. You never really got to wear dresses growing up. 

“Huh.” Daryl muttered and raised an eyebrow at the imagery, raising his fork of chicken and carrots to his mouth. “Yeah. Don’t need another reason to knock Shane on his ass.”

“Shane? He hates me.” You snorted. “Would probably put a bullet in my skull if he could get away with it.”

“He’s still a man. Don’t matter how you feel about a woman, s’all the same seein’ her naked.”

“Ew, Daryl.” 

“S’true.”

“Yeah? What about you? You wouldn’t see me that way.”

Daryl’s eyes shot up from his plate. He was silent, and that alone had your heart racing, your lips parting, your mind swimming in hundreds of different thoughts. He opened his mouth to speak. 

“I ain’t no pillow biter.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“Means I’m not a homosexual. Course I’d… can ya jus’ shut up?”

“I wasn't even speaking.” You tried not to laugh at the way Daryl said the word homosexual, like it was some exotic foreign mystery to him. It wasn’t hateful or disgusted in the way his brother would refer to them. 

It was quiet for a moment before you noticed he was wincing when he’d chew. 

“You hurting?” You asked, already reaching in your side pouch for the small baggie of painkillers Hershel had given you to give to Daryl when needed. 

“Nah. M’fine. Quit worryin’ so much.”

You scooted around the table until you could squeeze in beside him. He grunted in annoyance and slid over to give you more room, his eyes on the hem of your dress at your knees.

“Surprised you haven't scratched that thing off already.” You snorted and reached out to gently peel the bottom of his bandage up after he gave you a nod of approval. “Lookin’ good. Another surprise.”

“Ain’t no damn dog, haven’t been touchin’ it.” He rolled his eyes, trying not to feel uncomfortable  with the way your thigh pressed against his. After all these years of knowing you, feeling perfectly comfortable snuggled all up with you in the same tent, now was the time his body chose to acknowledge the fact that you were a woman?

He begrudgingly took the two small white pills from your hand and crunched them up in his mouth. He was eager for the painkillers to hopefully kill what little libido he had in him. 

It did its job, taking away the aching and throbbing from his skull, warming his body and reminding him why Merle used to love those things. He was suddenly optimistic, relaxed, filled with a fuzzy warm feeling of euphoria. Daryl cleared his throat and drug his eyes up to your face, watching as you snuck a stolen blueberry past your lips.

He acted without thinking and kissed you. It was clumsy, weird, awkward, all the things you’d expect from a boy's first kiss. You didn't move at first, your eyes wide and your hand hanging midair. You were too stunned to move. 

Daryl pulled back as if he’d been slapped. He muttered something, his face hot and red, waving his hand to signal you to leave. You were still too stunned to move. It took him raising his voice for you to snap out of it, dozens of thoughts and emotions flooding you all at once, fear, regret, hope, a stomach full of butterflies and your heart stuck in your tight throat. You muttered an apology before leaving.

Life loves giving you the shit end of the stick. 

That was another one of your problems, due to your near constant state of being a real victim growing up. Life had groomed you into an unhealthy behavior of always thinking you were the one who had it the worst, no matter what.  In reality you had it pretty good. After the Governors final attack you weren't one of the unlucky many that went through further trauma. You found a church after a while of being by yourself and broke into it. 

It was just your luck that the only human inside of it was a cowardly priest. He was thrilled to have someone like you with him after being alone so long, even though he didn't show it, you were a skilled hunter and offered food and protection in exchange for secure shelter. He also appreciated that you didn't speak much, and never questioned the suspicious markings and scratches around the exterior of all the windows. 

He'd complained once about your use of language in the church, and you responded by a snarky middle finger. 

You could've used a good wake up call, as sick as it was to say. Maybe if you'd been in Daryl's place, growing close to a girl such as Beth and then losing her, maybe you would've changed. Or if you were in Michonne's place, forced to watch the boy you'd come to love dance a hair away from one of the worst fates possible. Shit, maybe even Maggie, maybe if you were the one who had to go through hell and back to find your husband, maybe then you'd go through the emotional torture you so desperately needed for positive character growth. 

Life didn't work that way though, and you had it easy. So easy that the boredom was quick to become your hardship. 

“You got any booze here?” You asked as you laid on your back beside him in the pews, sharpening your clip point knife on Daryl's borrowed whetstone. 

“No.” He answered quickly, not looking up from the Bible in his hands. 

“Cigarettes? I'll be out soon.”

“I don't smoke.”

“Any of your old prescriptions? I know your type, I bet your bathroom cabinet was full of valium.” You took a jab at his timid and nervous personality.

“I'm sorry, no… I don't like taking pills. I don't even take Advil for headaches-”

“Do you have anything here that'll keep me from blowing my brains out?” 

Gabriel looked up then, holding a look of surprise and distaste that he didn't even try to hide. “I… I may have some games from the children's Sunday school classes.”

To the shock of both of you, you nodded after thinking it over for a moment. Gabriel hadn't expected that answer, but he got up and led you to the room anyway.

Neither of you believed that night would be the night that you started to like each other. The boredom had grown so unbearable that those stupid little games he had seemed like playing San Andreas on your father's PlayStation 2 for the first time all over again. It wasn't just the first time Gabriel saw you laugh, it was the first time you'd actually laughed in a long time, and it wasn't at the expense of others, you genuinely had fun. 

“I could teach you.” He had said after you made a joke about going to the darkest depths of hell after smoking and swearing in church. 

“Teach me what?” You snorted, flicking ash from your cigarette.

“About the Bible. How to change.” 

You laughed then, shaking your head. “I don't know, father. Don't think so. But, if you'll let me, I can teach you how to make meth.”

His eyes widened. “W-what? You know how to do that? No, I- no, what?”

“Just a joke. I'd hate to see you on crystal. You're already so jittery and anxious.” 

He grinned sheepishly then and you had a good night. A great night. 

All it took was reuniting with Daryl to snap you back to reality. 

You'd searched for him as long as you had daylight every single day since arriving at the church. Even though the first few days most of your time outside was spent hunting, searching for signs of Daryl or his group was your main priority. Catching rabbits and squirrels was just lucky for Gabriel. 

It was off putting having Gabriel return with nearly the entire inner group on your doorstep. Your arms were covered in squirrel blood and you had twigs all in your hair, swinging open the church doors with your boot, a cigarette hanging between your lips. The skinned squirrel dropped from your grasp as you saw them, over a dozen faces all turned to you, all at once. 

Daryl hugged you with an exhausted yet relieved grin on his lips. You remained frozen, too confused and shocked by their sudden arrival. He ended up having to move your body out of the doorway so everyone could enter. 

“Was starting to think I lost you for good.” You commented as you stabbed a plastic fork into your hot can of peaches, stretching your legs in front of the campfire. 

“Nah. I told ya, I ain't leavin’.” 

“So, what happened? You all get on the bus and leave my sorry ass?” You teased, enjoying the sweet taste of fruit, even if it was canned. 

Daryl gave you the rundown, about Beth, the group he stuck with, going to Terminus, and the new members who claimed their guy was a big shot fancy scientist who had a cure.

“That's bullshit if I've ever heard it.” You tried to ignore the gnawing in your chest at the information that Beth had been taken. That was just another sick and uncomfortable reminder that Daryl was truly it for you. Everyone would leave, but not Daryl. Never Daryl.

“I dunno. Seems pretty legit.” Daryl grunted, finishing one of the squirrels you'd caught earlier that day. “So what happened?”

“What happened?”

“Yeah, after the shit show. What happened?”

You sighed, impaling your last peach slice. “I walked for a real long time looking for you. Found the church and busted in, this guy was cowering in the back with his ass half way through the floorboards.” You pointed over your shoulder at Gabriel, who was so nervous speaking to Rick you could see his fingers twitching. 

“And I never left. Used it as a place to sleep without bugs crawling up my nose or walkers nibbling my feet.”

Daryl snorted, staring off into the flames of the campfire before asking another question. “You look for me?”

“I tried.” You chose to leave out the part where you ‘tried’ twelve hours a day, seven days a week. “Couldn't find a damn thing. No human tracks besides ole boy. Needs a little less Bible preaching and a little more stealth training.” You paused then, looking at Daryl, who was still staring  off into the flames. “Did you look for me?”

“For a while, yeah. Me and Beth.” It took him a moment before he went on. “Lotta shit happened after that. But I kept lookin’. Was lucky we ran into your friend there surrounded by walkers. Made lookin' a lot easier.” He chuckled dryly and you nodded. You suddenly thought about Daryl back in Atlanta, back at the farm. The way he looked for Sophia, day and night, subconsciously using her as his redemption for not being able to find Merle. Did he look for you the same way? Or was it a more of a ‘keep an eye out’ type of search? 

Deep down you knew the answer. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. 

You didn't have Daryl back long before he was gone again. He came back a while later with yet another new human, some scrawny kid claiming he knew where Beth was. 

It was surprising to you that Rick didn't suggest you just stay back at the church. He actually insisted you accompany them on their search for Beth. That was until you realized Carl and Judith would both be left behind with Gabriel, which would have left you as one of the only adults. That pissed you off a little, giving you the impression that he thought of you as some psychotic loose cannon, or that you weren't capable of protecting them. After you cooled down you accepted the fact that you wouldn't trust someone like you either to watch your only two children, the last thing he had of his late wife. 

Rick had come to slightly regret bringing you when you tormented one of the ‘cops’ they were keeping hostage, blowing cigarette smoke in his face while he was immobile and randomly smacking a handkerchief against his face to annoy him. Rick must've said something to Daryl because instead of thinking your antics were absolutely hilarious, he discreetly pulled you aside and told you to ‘leave the damn man alone’. 

Blowing a little smoke in someone's face was nothing compared to what you wanted to do when you watched Beth get shot in front of you. 

It had only hit you that day when you finally saw your sweet pain in the ass again, you felt optimistic, relieved, her positive attitude was something you deeply needed. It was quickly replaced by feral anger, hissing, spitting, biting, clawing, the feeling of arms belonging to Tyreese wrapping around your torso to drag you away from the bloody mess you'd made of the nearest cop. 

You were grateful for your rage, it was so strong and numbing that you weren't able to cry. 

Oh, but how Daryl cried. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.3

Warnings/Mentions: Merle being Merle, History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: You reminisce on the old days spent with Merle and Daryl.

Notes: This is mostly flashbacks to life growing up with Daryl and Merle, the good ole days :D Merle says some homophobic and probably racist stuff, cause he's Merle

“Dude, just go apologize, holy shit. You're worse than the teenage girls I went to school with.”

“Mind your own goddamn business. S’between me and Merle.” 

“He's got a point. You're acting shifty as hell. What happened to leaving? Huh? We've got Merle back, nothing's changed, these people still see us as redneck trash, can we just go already?”

“Said mind your business.”

Hindsight is a bitch.

You were five years old when you met Daryl and Merle for the first time. Unless your memory served you wrong, it was the fourth of July, and the trailer park was getting together to set off a bunch of illegal fireworks. You were sitting with your family as your neighbors got everything ready, a few of them grilling hotdogs and hamburgers. Your father had brought your mother a burger, which she split with you.

Your father was the only black sheep in your lives at that point in time. Anyone could tell just by looking at him that he didn't belong there, in a dingy trailer covered in blotches of mildew and rust. He was always clean shaven, no tattoos, perfect white teeth. He never smoked, never did drugs, never even drank. Even his name stood out among the Tammys, the Justins, Tuckers, Mandys, the Brandons and the Krystals. He was a Sebastian. He always wore clean clothes, and it was a stark contrast to your mother, who was the whole reason he was there in the first place. 

She was nothing like him. She had a beautiful face, sure, but that was about the only thing beautiful about her. Most of her teeth were yellow from cigarettes and drugs, some of them missing, and the molars in the back had eventually all turned black. She was never seen without a cigarette in her fingers, her nails a different bright color everyday. Her clothes always stank of cigarettes and BO, but despite all of that, she wasn’t all that much of a terrible human. Not until later on.

Your mother loved your father, and he loved her. She loved you too, even if she was mean most of the time, she never hit or screamed at you until he left. After that she took a dark turn, becoming a woman you grew to despise. She blamed you for him leaving, but  you knew the truth, she was the reason. She’d relapsed one too many times and he had enough, he left and he took you with him, but CPS ultimately dragged you kicking and screaming from your grandmother's house back to the prison that was your trailer.

That fourth of July was one of the last good memories you had with your parents. Your mother had been clean for seven months, and she looked stunning that night in her pink sundress and purple nail polish. She brought you a freeze pop and you ate it like it was a gourmet dessert, sitting beside her on the grass as you watched your neighbors set up the fireworks. 

When you finished eating you went to play with the group of kids, they would end up becoming your last resemblance of a friend group, a pair of girls your age and a handful of boys. One of the older boys made a rude comment about the DIxon brothers, and you decided to introduce yourself. 

Merle was about sixteen then, maybe seventeen, but he treated you and Daryl like you were the same age, something you deeply admired about him. You threw rocks at beer bottles behind their trailer, and you smoked your first cigarette there, hacking your lungs out, much to their amusement. Merle bragged and showed off his father's gun and crossbow collection, and soon after that their mother shooed you all out of the house like stray cats. 

You wished you could say the three of you became thick as thieves after that, but truthfully you didn't have many memories with them. To echo the point, you weren’t really friends. Just people with similar situations that lived near each other.

You took a deep drag of Daryl's cigarette and pulled away from him, holding it in your lungs. 

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. You sat in silence, your legs hanging off the bridge you sat upon, sharing one of your last cigarettes. 

You turned a spent shell casing over in your fingers as Daryl flicked the butt into the river below. It was Merle's bullet casing, you knew that, the three of you had been on that bridge a few days prior when he let off a few shots into a small group of walkers. It was small, from the little .22 pistol that he’d borrowed from you. He’d never given it back, and it pained you to assume it was most likely still in his waistband, stuck to his rotting corpse until some other survivor came along and took it. 

“C’mon. Let's get back.” Daryl grunted as he hopped off the ledge and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. This was the only thing he said to you for the rest of the day, and for a while after that. 

Once you had said that your odds of survival were higher when there were more people around. World views change fast, apparently, because when the prison group took in the Woodbury citizens, you felt more at risk than when it had been a group of ten. 

Though you always despised the word ‘outcast’, it was the only word good enough to describe your place in the prison. 

It was easier when Merle had been there. It was only a few days but it was nice, you found yourself making an effort to hang out with him more, something he secretly appreciated. There wasn't anyone in his life anymore that enjoyed spending time with him, aside from Daryl. But some days it felt like not even his baby brother wanted to be around him. 

“You know how to fish?” You had asked him one evening as the two of you walked back from a supply run mostly empty handed. 

“Do you know who you're talkin' to sweetheart? Course I know how to fish.” 

You sat on the riverbank as he dumped his fourth trout into your bucket of water. You had caught one small catfish, and that seemed to do wonders for his pride, it gave him another thing to brag about doing better than anyone else in camp. 

“Little asskickers gonna have her first taste of good ole American fish tonight.” Merle laughed proudly, wiping his hands on his pants. 

“I don't think babies can eat fish. I don't think they can eat anything but formula.” You commented and stood from your spot, pulling in your makeshift fishing line. 

“A lil’ fish can't hurt.”

“No, seriously. I don't think she can have any.”

“Psh.” He muttered and picked up the bucket. “Useless fuckers. Can't eat, can't speak, can't walk, hell.”

Before the outbreak, you'd spent the most time with the eldest Dixon brother. Only to buy or trade drugs, occasionally getting high together, but it was still time spent in each other's presence. He very much enjoyed doing speed and teaching you things, normally how to shoot different types of guns, or just sitting in some random person's house listening to his rants about racism, homophobia, whatever he felt passionate about that day. 

“It just ain't natural, and I said, you couldn't pay me a cold million to touch one of you shitlickers. Yessir.” He was laughing then, amused in his retelling of some high school escapade that you weren't really paying attention to. Merle could be tasteless at times, and it was of no interest to you, you were enjoying your expensive high and there was no way in hell you were going to ruin it by getting into an argument with someone like him. 

You must've dozed off, because the long, drawn-out yell of your name had your heavy head lolling back up to see Merle a foot away from you. A grin split onto his face and he slapped your shoulder. “C'mon. Got a hot date, wouldn't look too good bringin’ your ass around. Get up. C'mon now!” 

Maybe you should've stuck around, cause he ended up getting a nasty case of gonorrhea from her. About a week later you found out from the man himself, standing in front of the coolers in your local gas station. They didn't sell gas anymore, too expensive, but they didn't lose any customers. 

“Should'a known a bitch that ugly would be crawlin’ with it.” He cursed, hiking up a six pack of beer on his shoulder as he followed you to checkout, his little shadow following behind.

“Told ya. Just didn't listen.” Daryl muttered, swiping a pack of cigarettes to slip into his back pocket. 

“Yeah, well, that's cause you don't know jack shit about women. The hell would I listen to you for?” 

“Even I could've told you that.” You spoke around the SlimJims between your lips as you handed the cashier a crumpled up ten dollar bill. She said nothing about you obviously being underaged and buying a cheap bottle of wine, everyone in town knew about your mother. “That's what you get for being a dick to that poor kid.”

“You talkin' about that-” The noisy chime of the bells above the front door covered his derogatory choice of words. 

“Those men, yeah. Don't know why it's so hard for you to leave people alone.”

“Cause it's America sweetheart, ain't no place for that kind of degeneracy here.” 

You bit back your quip concerning the women he surrounded himself with and looked to Daryl, who was too busy flipping through an obscene magazine to notice.

You weren't the model student after your father left. Most days were spent by yourself in the surrounding woods, fucking around until the buses prepared to leave. On the rare occasion that you had company, it was usually the senior you bought drugs from. He was weird, overly gentle with a very soft voice, something about him extremely off putting. 

Maybe things would've been different if you had been friends with Daryl back in school. He had only gone for a little while, using any and every excuse to get out of that house, even if it did include going from one prison to another. You weren't sure when he dropped out (technically he didn't drop out, he just stopped showing up), but it was right around the time Merle was out of prison. 

They left their father then, moving from couch to couch, and eventually ended up staying with another dealer you were vaguely familiar with. 

“Holy shit, look at you!” Merle whistled playfully after realizing it was you that had just come through the door. 

“The fuck? Merle?” You could barely recognize him. He looked so different from the last time you saw him, hardened by the months in prison. Daryl looked different too, he'd started growing some facial hair and looked a bit larger as well. It had been about a year or two since your last encounter, so it was to be expected. They stood up from the couch they sat on to greet you, Merle offering you a hit from his glass pipe, which you declined. 

“Nah, you know I never liked that shit.”

Merle snickered and held his lighter flame under the glass orb. “Right, right. Forgot you were too classy for crystal. Only the,” he tapped the side of his nostril, “for you.”

You caught up in the dealer's living room, some guy named Jesse, and enjoyed your purchases. You were happy then, for a few reasons. Jesse's shit was a lot better than what you were used to, so you found yourself a new reliable source, but also because you got to see Daryl again. You got to see him laughing, joking, no black eyes or busted lips. You got time with them as they were, before the world changed. 

You found yourself missing that time, watching as Daryl flung dirt over his shoulder into the grass behind him. It was the present, and you were sitting beside the hole he dug, too hungry to help. You'd forgotten to eat breakfast that morning and it was too early for lunch to be ready, whatever it was Carol or Beth had fixed up for the prison members. 

“What do you think Jesse's up to?” 

Daryl squinted against the sun to focus on you, momentarily pausing his digging. “Who?”

“That dealer you guys used to stay with. Beanie guy.” 

“Oh, yeah. Shit.” He grunted and stretched his back, happy for a break from grave digging. “Hell, I don't know. Probably dead.”

“You think? He seemed pretty tough to me.”

Daryl laughed abruptly at that. “Guy was a prick, but he wasn't no ‘tough guy’. Would go straight to usin’ guns instead of fightin’ like a real man.” 

You would never discover the fate of Jesse, but the decision to bring Daryl's mind back to wander in the past did wonders for bringing the two of you closer once again. 

To everyone's surprise, including you, Daryl dealt with his brother's death far better than you had. You'd expected he'd want to leave after that, go live alone and shut out everyone else. He didn't though, he cried a few times, sure, he got distant and chose to only keep you as company, but while you were still angry and grieving, he was laughing and forming bonds with the new group members. 

You weren't too sure why Merle's death had devastated you that much, the two of you weren't exactly best friends. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was one of the only two things keeping you connected to your past life, even though it was awful, it was better than the constant looming threat of being eaten by dead people. As shitty as your mundane life was, it would have gotten better, one day you would've been stronger than your mother and you would've stood up for yourself, put an end to the physical abuse, and if you were lucky you could've been able to leave and find your father and brother. 

Now Daryl truly was the only bit that remained, not counting material possessions. 

The same went for Daryl as well. The difference between you and him though was that the loss of his brother turned into a good thing. He was no longer a shadow of another human, no longer basing his ideals and opinions on said human. While you dealt with the pain by using Daryl as a crutch, he used it to find out who the unbiased Daryl was, abandoning the ‘Merle Dixon’s kid brother' persona. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

We all love and remember the Matchmaker fanfic but hear me out! Imagine like a second part that happens at CDC.

I'm actually writing that now!! I think someone mentioned it in the notes, and I thought it would be one of the only times you could fuck showered Daryl on a clean bed