fictional-lvr

[fictional-lvr]

Tease

Summary: The meeting has been going on for a lot longer than expected, so Daryl helps alleviate your boredom.

Paring: Daryl x reader (gender neutral)

Genre: Suggestive?? I guess?? (like it's not smut but it almost is)

Word count: 666 (😈)

A/N: I've had this idea in brain for at least a month I NEEDED to write it down (I have a thing for being publicly teased) ((I'm finally getting some motivation to write again!))

~~~~~

You leaned your chin against your palm and glanced out a far window, and sighed softly, half listening to Hershel’s concerns about the prison. He had summoned you along with Daryl, Carol, Sasha, and Glenn to a council meeting. There was talk of future supply runs, watch schedules, tending to weapons, and just general upkeep of the prison and its inhabitants. You did genuinely care about the prison and wanted to keep it safe for as long as you could, but frankly, you were bored. This meeting had been going on for over an hour at this point.  

Your gradually dulling eyes looked over to your boyfriend, Daryl. He returned the kind look with his shimmering ocean blues and rubbed your shoulder as reassurance, kind of as a way to say, 'I’m sure it’ll be over soon.'

Heshel and Glenn were sitting on one side, Sasha and Carol were sitting at both ends, and you and your redneck were seated on the other side. Everyone was so wrapped up in their respective conversations. It was as if you and Daryl weren’t even there. So he used that to his advantage.

Daryl suddenly stopped leaning on his fist, moved a stray hair out of his eyes, and slowly moved it underneath the table. It started with him rubbing his hand on your knee. You tilted your head lovingly and side eyed him with a smile.

After about a minute of this loving motion, without any warning, he snaked his calloused hand under your long, black skirt and placed it on your thigh. You suddenly sat up, now not thinking about anything Hershel just said about how to properly clean a revolver. He kept running his palm up and down your smooth thigh, his fingers getting tantalizingly closer to the edge of your panties. 

You were keeping your composure despite his teasing, until he fucking squeezed. You gasped a bit through your nose, biting the inside of your lip and clasping your hands together on top of the table, not even daring to glance at Daryl, because you know that there is a small but devious smirk on his face. He’s even engaging and chiming in to the current conversation. That motherfucker. He did it again, but harder this time. His large hand was engulfing most of your thigh and squeezing so hard that there most definitely were bruises blossoming. But you didn’t mind. You wanted to be marked, wanted people to know that you were his. 

The archer finally looked over at you, his ocean blue eyes now darker from the lust consuming him. With a raise of his eyebrows and a smirk, he mouthed, ‘Don’t fuckin’ react.’ 

He fucking knows that you were being tortured. He could feel you slightly squirming underneath his hand and had to hold in a chuckle. He finally released you from the torture when Hershel announced that the same meeting would be happening at the same time next week, signalling that it was over. Daryl ended the torment by running his finger under the waistband of your panties, releasing it with a small snap. You were breathing heavily now that everyone was out of the room, your now heavy head resting on Daryl’s shoulder. “I fucking hate you.” You breathed, resting your hands on his bicep. He snickered deceitfully and kissed the top of your head as an apology. “Sorry, sunshine. Just love yer reactions.” He gently guided your chin upwards with his free hand, your eyes finding his. “I wanted to help with yer boredom. You should be thankin’ me.”  

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes to the back of your head and looked away from the archer. He could see right through you, though. You wished the meeting had lasted longer just to see what else he’d do. 

“Can you do that again later?” You sheepishly asked while looking back at him with a soft grin.

“O’ course. Love markin’ ya. But I’ll use mah teeth this time.”

[fictional-lvr]

Guard Dog II

Part one

Warning: minors dni, fluff, smut, fingering, penetration, no protection, language

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x you

Summary: You and Daryl have started seeing each other, but not much has changed between you two. Yet, all you can think about is how much you need it to —need him to touch you, but he hasn’t made a move. Thus, you take charge.

Word count: 1.6k

…

Though it hasn't been said, flat out, you and Daryl are dating. And although nothing about your dynamic has altered, you’re still fairly certain, you're dating now.

But, the routine is just the same. You go somewhere, Daryl follows. However, nowadays you talk regularly, and he's visibly more comfortable. The others even started to notice your relationship and the changes in Daryl as well. One of which is, according to Eugene, is he seems happier, lighter, like a weight has lifted from his shoulders.

So, how is it that you feel something missing? You guessed a relationship with Daryl would be nothing less than this. But deep down, you expected him to at least touch you. And all you really wanted, was a kiss.

Sometimes, when he's close enough, you feel his warmth radiate over your very being. Sometimes, you sense his touch from when he grabbed your wrist, and held you in his arms weeks ago.

It left you craving more. Perhaps it did for him too...

Various times you swore his hand would hover over your skin, debating whether to reach out to you or not. Other times, he follows you to your house, but never steps foot inside, not since that day. He continuously stops short at your front deck, giving you a prolonged nod for a goodbye.

You’re shy in many ways, as is he, so if things were to change, you figure you have to be the one to take the reins. After all, he did admit to "wanting" you, so what did you have to lose?

…

Sighing, you open your door, squinting to welcome the blazing sun.

As of late, your mornings consist of this smouldering summer shine, and a mouthwatering, sleeveless Daryl Dixon, leaning against the pillar upholding your porch, waiting for you to wake.

"Morning!" You greet cheerfully. Daryl looks at you, and his scowl instantly softens. "I'm thinking we should do something today, together," you boast, trudging off the porch. "You know, switch up our usual routine somehow." Pausing thoughtfully, you notice how patiently Daryl observes you, waiting for your word, without any interruptions. It almost shocks you how docile he truly is, beneath that dim, tough exterior.

Your eyes explore Alexandria's landscape, catching areas with dull greenery. Your mouth opens in 'ah!'

Daryl appears disquiet and you holler, "Gardening!"

"No," he contradicts, quickly shutting down your idea. You huff, hindering a small smile. "Oh please, it would be fun!" You persuade, "This place needs more character, it's too-" desperately searching for a word, you make Daryl smirk a bit. "Colourless right now," you proclaim.

"And adding some flowers, will make this place look less like a 'dump'?" He mocks plainly.

"I don't think it's a 'dump,' it just needs some," once more, you seek the appropriate word, and Daryl expels a breathy chuckle. "Sprucing," you finish, and he nods with a tiny shake in disbelief. "Let's go!" You shout, heading to a plain field of grass.

"Yes ma'am," Daryl grumbles behind you, and you giggle.

...

The both of you spend hours outside, digging up weeds, replanting flowers, and spreading plant seeds across the lot. The whole ordeal left you both filthy, decorated in dirt. Though it's nothing new for Daryl, you feel pretty disgusting, not to mention 'hideous.'

Engrossed in your obsessive thoughts, you miss the way Daryl longingly watches you. That’s until you feel a plant stem, tuck your hair behind your ear. You spy Daryl’s calloused fingers, gently placing a pink flower there. His pinkie lightly coasts down your locks, to your shoulder.

You peer into his eyes, struck by his tenderness. His dilated pupils hold so much depth, that you get lost in them. So absentmindedly, you shift closer to Daryl.

His eyes roam your face, down to your lips, focusing on them.

A short breath escapes you, heart dropping, and he stands up. Now on his feet, Daryl brushes the grime on his hands in a clap, then lends one out to you. “You’re covered in dirt,” his throat bobs, “Let’s call it a day,” he heaves you upright, “take a shower.” You nod in agreement, kind of discombobulated.

Hand in hand, you silently walk to your house. Once you get there, he retracts his palm from yours and scratches his crown awkwardly. “You’re not coming?” You mumble shyly, and his wide eyes shoot to yours.

You fight to remain calm, staring at him. He licks his lips, once again, looking at your parted ones. “Separate showers, or...?” He asks airily.

“Whatever you want,” replying in a whisper, you slowly back up your steps, intently watching him. He refuses to break eye contact as he follows you inside.

When the door clicks shut, the only audible sound is his breathing, which is more like panting.

“You sure about…?” He trails off, delicately admiring your face. When you faintly mouth a 'yes,' his eyes train to your figure. You leisurely stride towards him.

“You’re so,” before he finishes, you peck his lips. He jerks his jaw moderately, and his gaze struggles to decide, whether to look at your eyes, or your body.

“Touch me,” you practically beg, nudging his abdomen with your knuckles. His sharp breath fans your face, and his expression distorts right before he instinctively, crashes his mouth into yours. Tongues mingling together, he grunts quietly, and you hum a whine in return.

Bodies pressing hard against each other, his hands tangle into your tresses, cupping your head. He rolls his hips rather harshly and you whine louder.

Breaking away with his name on your tongue, you clutch his hand and haul him upstairs.

Reaching the top of the staircase, he hugs you from behind and buries his face into your neck, breathing in like you're his lifeline.

“Daryl,” you sigh then gasp when he suddenly lifts you up. Your toes drag on the floorboards while he sucks on your nape. “Bathroom,” he rasps.

“To your left,” you huff in response, pushing your backside atop his crotch. Daryl just about growls, hastily carrying you into the bathroom.

Putting you down nicely, he forcibly tugs the shower curtain to the side. You spin to look at him and see him surveying you, staring down at your frame like he's in heat. You bite your lip, raising a hand to push away the black hair blocking his eyes.

“Can I?” He asks politely, gesturing to your clothes.

“Yes,” you nearly moan.

Together, you remove each other’s garments, one by one, piece by piece. Eyes equally wandering, to every newly revealed section of flesh. Daryl adorns your naked body and his lip tilts. You lean towards him to turn the shower knob.

The shower head roars, and Daryl tenses when the tips of your breasts graze his chest. “God,” he groans then takes your dome in his hands again, yanking your mouth upwards.

Your fronts fix together, and he palms your ass, reddening the skin there. His hard-on rubs your cunt, and he ambles you both under the flowing stream of water.

“Fuck,” you moan wildly when your spine hits the cool wall.

“Ya feel amazing,” he resounds into your ear, kissing it with a swipe of his tongue. You grind onto him. “Like that baby, again,” he instructs hoarsely, almost pained.

Moving in sync with each other, his cock continuously moves over your clit. You whine his name over and over and scratch your nails down his lower back. You moan out appraisals and smooch a trail from his chin to chest.

His hushed tone chants your name, trying to get your attention. But, when he gets tired of you ignoring him, his digits abruptly slip into you. You instantly cry out, then move in rhythm with his fingers, riding them. He begins to elicit an orgasm, so you pull away from his aggressive kiss. “Wait, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Good,” he groans with a smirk, trying to capture your mouth again.

“No, no, I wanna cum with you,” you plea, whispering, "on you," barely coherent. His fingers immediately slow and withdraw, at once, replaced by his girthy cock.

You scream a yelp and Daryl releases a lengthy, unreserved, animalistic groan. “So, tight,” his dark voice grates your ears. He cups your breast, playing with its nipple, and you sob while he mutters how badly he needs this.

After a moment of adjusting, Daryl starts thrusting. "Harder!" You express, and his hips lunge into you, untamed and vigorous.

Though his bottom half ruthlessly takes you, his hands and mouth are kind and attentive. His palms glide over your torso, holding you securely, and he kisses your features.

“Daryl, I love it,” you exclaim, then repeat yourself.

“Y-yeah?” He stammers, pinning his forehead to the side of your skull, and you grip his muscular biceps. “Yes, you’re so good.”

He growls your name, pumping even faster, evidently getting closer to his climax.

His hands move to squeeze and spread your ass, and ever-so-slightly, his finger sweeps across your unfilled hole, circling it teasingly. You squeal and huddle into him, and he murmurs something so quietly, that you can hardly hear it.

“What?” You gasp, craning your neck back.

“-fucking love you,” Daryl moans roughly, hoisting up your leg by its thigh.

“Shit.” Pushing into you one last time, he pulls out to cum on your stomach.

Daryl's confession strikes such a cord, that you also cum when he removes himself.

Blanking, you aimlessly watch him stroke himself, and he grits his teeth at the sight of you flushed, and wet.

Eventually, his meaty arms embrace your trembling form, snaking around your curves firmly. And after a short while, you hug him too, burying your face in his sternum.

“Can you, say that again?” You ask meekly, and as if he can hear your smile, he chuckles. “Later,” he pauses to kiss your scalp, “Lemme catch my breath first baby.”

[fictional-lvr]

HOT DAMN

JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN : dilf at a bar in The Good Wife

[fictional-lvr]

the subtle nose scrunches, the squinting, the tongue at the corner of his mouth…. this man is a slut and he knows it. there’s NO way he does this and doesn’t know… it’s in his mannerisms, it’s in his voice, it’s in the way he talks, it’s just him. like it’s on purpose. it has to be.

[fictional-lvr]

Wrote this imagine at 3am cause I'm feral. This is for all my girlies who don't/can't relate to the whole "being a geyser" thing, which is hot still so keep writing y'all, but for whatever reason that may be some of us can't be that! We all have different journeys with it, and why's, and idk I just wanted to write this scene.

Never wrote anything smutty before but enjoy???

Minors DNI!

~~~~~~~~~

Imagine Bucky's on his knees in front of you, taking his sweet time eating you out, your leg over his shoulder as his metal fingers curl into you. Your body grinding hard into him while he gets you closer and closer to screaming his name, coating his tongue and fingers with all you had to give.

But before you could cum you stopped him, making him furrow his brows.

You told him about how you can't get wet really after you come once, so it's hard to fuck afterwards. You told him you could come later, together. But all he does is smirk before his hand reached across you waist to hold you down. You couldn't even protest before his tongue was assaulting you again, spearing into and on you with renewed vigor. You came hard and fast with that, your body shaking as his mouth took every last drop of you.

When he let go of you, you frowned. "I told you, I can't -"

"Oh don't worry. I'll make sure you're plenty wet for me when I take you doll." He reached over to open his drawer, pulling out a bottle. "Over. And over again."

Fuck.

"I'm gonna fucking drench your pussy." He whispered dropping a handful of lube onto his cock - a slick, squelch sound coming from his hand as he slowly coated his hard length. "I'm gonna soak that pretty pussy, make you take my cum so you can stay nice and wet for me all night. You want that?"

He'd tease his tip at your entrance, barely having to make a move before his tip would 'accidentally' slide in. You both moaned, how easy it was for him, your body relaxed as you felt his soaked cock ease into you.

"See how -fuck- well you take me? Don't worry about anything baby, I'll take care of you."

[fictional-lvr]

mdni

wanna know a bucky trope that sends me spiralling? bucky filming you all drunk on his cock.

imagine your thighs all sticky with cum, the three orgasms bucky’s pulled from you painted across the soft flesh like paint on a canvas. bucky can’t stop tracing his throbbing pink tip over your filthy thighs; his own white seed mixes with yours and you whine at the sound.

“never get tired of this, doll.” bucky’s sultry tone washes over you, your mind scrambled with need. “seeing you all sticky, covered in our cum -fuck- i- i gotta film this, sweets, let me film you, huh?”

a desperate moan falls from your swollen lips when the super soldier pulls away from you, the warmth of his tip no longer pressed into your thighs. in want of your boyfriend, you reach out for him, but he’s already on the other side of the room.

“bucky…” your voice is high and needy, “bucky, baby, come back. i need you.”

his usual arrogant chuckle greets your ears, forcing your thighs closer together to ease the fresh wave of heat flooding your core. you know that laugh, it’s the one he makes whenever you’re drunk on his cock.

bucky crawls back on the bad, hovering over your sweat-sheen body, and brings his phone over your face.

“smile for me, doll.” he orders, the command drawing your brows together in pleasure. you look up at him through your lashes, lids half shut before you focus on the camera.

“there she is.” bucky hums when you grin, albeit tiredly, up at the lens. “tell me how many times i’ve made that sweet little pussy cum, baby. tell the camera.”

“five.” you whine. you watch bucky lower the camera to your dripping cunt as he speaks and start trying to close your legs.

bucky taps your thigh harshly, tutting. “come on, sweets, show your sarge what a mess i’ve made of you.”

his rough palm slides down to your knees and slowly pries them apart, a growl rippling from the base of his throat as you bare yourself to him in submission.

“good girl.”

you keen beneath the camera, pussy throbbing at the praise. a smirk tugs at bucky’s lips while you writhe under him, he knows he’ll enjoy watching that back when he’s on a mission with his hand wrapped around his length.

holding the phone in his vibranium hand, bucky reaches down to run a calloused finger through your glistening folds, the swollen petals quivering at his touch.

“aw, is my sweet princess all sensitive after all those orgasms? huh?”

you claw at his flesh hand, nodding so fast you make yourself even more dizzy than you already are.

“m’so sensitive, sarge, please- pl- oh my god.”

your eyes are rolling to the back of your head before you can finish your sentence as bucky slides a finger into your tight hole. he prays to god that the camera picked up on the squelch of yours and his cum when he pushes inside you.

“fuck, sweets, you’re so goddamn wet, gonna make me nut all over the sheets.” bucky moans, hips rutting against the soft cotton duvet while he works your sex.

sinful sounds echo across the room, bucky’s phone capturing every single thrust of his hand. he adds a second finger, earning a squeal of contest from you.

“no- bucky, i can’t, i cant, it’s too much, please, just one, please.”

your broken pleas do nothing to slow the grind of bucky’s hips against the bed, your whiny voice merely encouraging him to play with his cunt even more.

“yes you can, and you will. you’ve been so good for your sarge so far, haven’t you, princess? tell me how good you’ve been for me.”

you open your mouth to reply, suddenly interrupted by a third finger stretching the walls of your pussy. a gasp falls from your swollen lips and it morphs into a cry of intense pleasure.

“bucky!!!” you scream, accompanied by the sloppy noises of bucky’s palm slapping your wet clit.

“i’m waiting, sweets.”

releasing a small whine, you look down at your boyfriend to find his eyes already on yours.

“i’ve been so good, sarge. just wanted to be a good girl for you, give you all- fuck- all my cum, be your best girl, all drunk on my sarge’s cock and fingers a-and mouth, oh”

his fingers keep curling and hitting that one stop that’s making you see stars and you begin heaving your chest up and down, desperately searching for a breath that would satisfy your needs. bucky turns the camera to your face so he can look back on your writhing body.

“cock’s so hard for you, princess. you’re so fucking beautiful like this, gonna make you cream all over my fingers again and then stuff you full o’ me”

“please sarge, please- ugh- i’m gonna cum!”

“let go sweets, cover me in your sweet juices”

and then you cum and then he cums against the sheets and then he fucks you and the he eats you out and then you clean up his cock with your tongue and then he cleans you up with a cloth and then he runs you a bath and then he holds you till you fall asleep and then a week later on a mission bucky fucks his fist while watching the video and then he cums to it and then he cums to it again and then an hour later he cums to it again and then-

[fictional-lvr]

HOLY FUCKING SHIT WOWZA

🖕🖕🩸🩸

#the walking dead #twd #twd fanart #the walking dead fanart #negan #jeffrey dean morgan

[fictional-lvr]

hi babies no fics for the foreseeable future on account of i have a brain inflammation condition 😭

#oops

[fictional-lvr]

My Princess

Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: when you act like a brat Eddie knows how to make you his sweet angel again. Even if he has to make you cry.

CW: mean!dom!eddie, crybaby!reader, daddy kink, dacryphilia, face slapping, thigh riding, degradation, and spit kink.

You walk into the house slamming the door behind you, even though Eddie is right behind you. He pushes the door open. “Don’t slam the fucking door” he growls. “Whatever” you sigh, plopping down on the couch. Eddie comes up beside you sitting down. You reach for the remote but he smacks your hand away. “Bad girls don’t get to watch tv” he tells you. You huff and cross your arms. He lets out a dark chuckle, “it’s that how you want to be? A bitch?” He asks. “Shut up” you mumble, a little too loud. “What did you just say?” He questions. “Take off your panties and get on my lap. Now” he demands. You gulp, regretting your decision to be a brat. You nod and take off your panties leaving you in your skirt and cropped tank top.

You straddle his thigh, your slick coating his denim fabric. His hands rest on each side of your hips. “What wrong? Why are you acting like this?” Eddie asks his voice soft as he rubs your inner thighs. “Want attention, a-and you were giving it to N-Nancy” you whine. “So instead of using your words, you act like a whiny bitch?” He spits at you. You throw your head back and groan. He lands a harsh slap on your face. Making you gasp, “stop whining” he tells you grabbing you face. Squishing your cheeks together. “Such a slut” he states kissing your neck, leaving hickeys along your collarbone. You moan grinding your hips on his thigh. The feeing of his rough denim on your clit, “don’t think about cumming, got it” he demands making you whimper at him bouncing his leg up and down. “Gonna behave?” He asks and you shake your head ‘no’. He gives you a smug smile. “Open” he tells you. You do as he says. He spits in your mouth and you swallow immediately. “Filthy whore, always so needy” he mutters and he takes your shirt off. He takes off you bra freeing, your tits. He cups them in his hands his icy rings sending a shock through your body. “Pretty tits” he coos, he gives them wet kiss making you whine his name. He gives them a slap and twist your nipples making you cry out. Tears well in your eyes form the pain. He knows your on the verge of breaking. He lets go and slaps your face again. Making your tears fall down. You start grinding your hips on his lap. He bring his hands to your hips guiding them to go faster. “You done being a brat?” He questions. “Yes daddy! Fuck!” You yelp. “Just a dumb little princess, isn’t that right?” He teases. You nod, “ M’ daddy’s d-dumb little princess” you say in a broken moan. “My pretty princess” he mumbles as he latches onto your neck. “Daddy s-so s-sorry” you whine rolling you hips hard on his thigh feeling a knot building in your core. “It okay baby, you just needed some attention. Daddy’s gonna give it to you” Eddie says as he strokes your cheek. “G-Gonna cum d-daddy please” you beg. Legs becoming shaky and your breathing intensifies. “Go ahead baby, cum all over daddy’s leg” he encourages you. And with that your orgasm crashes over you, you feel pure euphoria. You hold onto Eddie as your body shakes. “Daddy! D-Daddy!” You cry out as he helps you ride out your orgasm. Once you snap out of the haze your orgasm gave you. You snuggle into Eddie’s chest.

“My pretty baby, feel better?” He asks running his hands through your hair. You nod giving his neck and jaw a soft wet kiss. “Thank you daddy” you tell him. “You’re welcome princess”



[fictional-lvr]

Joel would def make crybaby!reader beg for what she wants.

He can tell when she needs him to get rougher with her. She starts whimpering and leaves rough bites on his neck, trying to egg him on but he wants to hear her say it.

“Come on darling, use your big girl words and tell me what you want,” She grunts stiffly “you know what I want.”

“I do, but good girls only get what they want by asking, so it you don't tell me now you ain't getting shit” You start crying knowing that he's just gonna embarrass you. “Please Joel, I want you to spank my pussy”

He just laughs which turns you on even more. He leaves a harsh slap on your pussy, you gasp and start crying more. Joel groans and continues slapping “go on princess cry like a little baby for me. I've got you” ❤️

[fictional-lvr]

GOOD GOLLY GOSH THIS IS SO GOOD

daryl doodles <3

#foaming at the mouth #twd #the walking dead #twd fanart #the walking dead fanart #daryl dixon #norman reedus #amc #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x reader

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daryl dixon x autistic!reader perchance?

A/N: I LOVED THIS REQ!!!! HE'S SO CUTE WAHHHHHHHHH

Daryl Dixon x Autistic!Reader

Daryl watched as you went up to Rick and discreetly said something to him. Rick nodded before you walked away towards a quiet creek, shaking your hands out as you went. Daryl furrowed his brow and decided to follow you, finding you sitting on the fallen leaves by the creek, ripping them apart in your hands. "Hey." You jumped at the unexpected sound of Daryls gruff voice. You huffed out a laugh as you turned and saw him. "You scared the shit out of me, hi." You told him, earning a chuckle from him. Daryl grunted as he moved to sit down next to you, mirroring your leaf-ripping. You turned to him with your head cocked to the side and asked "Whatcha doin'?" Daryl shrugged without looking up, "Jus' came to check on ya. Saw you talkin' to Rick. Wanted to make sure you were aight." You smiled and rocked back and forth a bit with your hands in your lap. "It just gets hard to be around so many people, yknow? Especially with all that noise, I can't stand it." You explained, Daryl nodded and leaned back to lay on the leaves with his hands behind his head. You hesitated for a moment before deciding to go for it. "I'm...autistic, so I get overwhelmed by the noise pretty easily. Rick knows, so I tell him when I go to a safer space just in case." You fiddle with your hands, nervously awaiting a reaction from Daryl, instead, you feel a warm hand gently tugging at your arm for you to lay with him, wrapping an arm around you when you do. He hugs you close, rubbing your shoulder affectionately. "Yknow, I had an autistic friend when I was a kid." You turned to him, your faces inches apart. "Really?" You ask with wide eyes and a hopeful voice, Daryl nods and gives you a faint smile. "Yeah. Merle gave me all kinds 'a shit for it, but I didn' care. He had this uh- necklace he wore, dinosaur shaped, n' he would always have that thing in his mouth." Daryl chuckled as he reminiced. You smiled wide and nodded. "Yeah! Lots of autistic people stim orally, so they might chew or suck on something a lot." You explained happily, Daryl nodded along, still carressing your shoulder, his expression hardened slightly as he became more serious. "You let me know if you need extra support, mkay? Don't give a shit what anyone else says to ya, you come to me." You were a bit shocked by his acceptance and willingness to accommodate you, you smiled and draped your arm over his chest to give him a hug. Daryl stiffened for a quick moment before squeezing you back, pressing a tentative kiss to your head. He whispered into your hair, "Let me know when you're ready to get headed back, hon."

#daryl dixon #twd #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #x autistic reader #twd fluff #twd x reader #the walking dead fanfic #x reader #x reader fic

[fictional-lvr]

daryl dixon requests? 🤲

#reqs open #daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fluff #maybe even daryl dixon angst #cmon send a req #everyones doing it #cmonnnn #sorry ill stop peer pressuring you

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"my kid is better than your kid" kind of dads

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Daryl Dixon’s Favourite Colour is Orange

It reminds him of the bolts on his very first crossbow.

It reminds him of the pregnant alley cat he used to feed twice a week when his dad kicked him out.

It reminds him of his mom’s old, tacky earrings she used to wear.

It reminds him of the colour his ex girlfriend painted his nails whenever she was bored.

It reminds him of the sunsets he used to watch with you, at the prison.

It reminds him of the odd, mismatched socks you wore around the house in Alexandria.

It reminds him of the carrot cake muffins Carol taught him to make.

It reminds him of the rubber bands wrapped around slingshots he made with Judith and RJ.

It reminds him of the fires he would hold your hand around.

It reminds him of the lipstick a young Judith and Gracie put on him and Aaron while playing dress up.

It reminds him of the dog toy you brought home on a run for Dog.

Daryl Dixon’s favourite colour is orange, because it reminds him of happiness.

[fictional-lvr]

WICKED (d.d)

a/n: note to self, stop taking tumblr breaks!!!

pairing: daryl dixon x fem!reader

summary: you were sensitive, daryl was hot headed. daryl often carried anger in his voice to protect you, never did you think he'd use it against you.

warnings: yelling, argument, sensitive!reader, blood, gore, fighting walkers, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 💞

words: 2,136

the prison had fallen, tensions were rising. it was just you and daryl on the roads now, attempting to find your group again. you should have noticed the way he shook his head earlier or the way he sighed loudly and squeezed his eyes shut.

you cursed yourself for not knowing sooner.

daryl dixon was never a man that anyone could say was overly patient. but when it came to you, he’d wait years for you to utter a mere sentence. he was suddenly as patient as they come. but that didn’t change his true nature.

you’d been separated from the group for quite a while now. it was just the two of you on the roads.

at first, you’d been silent as a mouse, wondering if everyone was okay.

soon after, you realised that it was daryl who was also just as silent. you began speaking, in hopes of raising his mood. you assured him, the group had found their way back to them hundreds of times before, this would undoubtedly be no different.

but daryl didn’t so much as glance at you, barely letting out a grunt before turning his head. obviously, your plan in trying to lift his mood only dampened it.

however, you didn’t stop there.

and you should have, you really should have.

perhaps if you’d spent less time talking and waffling on, he wouldn’t be as angry as he was. perhaps if you’d just listened to him and nodded with your head bent, he wouldn’t have snapped.

albeit everything was happening so quickly.

you hadn’t even registered the infected make their way out. it took only moments before your life practically flashed before your eyes.

daryl’s back was against yours, his own knife out as he plunged it into walkers heads. in return, you attempted to do the same, holding the knife at it’s base with shaky hands. but you weren’t strong nor brave like daryl was. when fighting, it was obvious just how different the two of you were, how different you’ve always been. and you couldn’t lie as to say it wasn’t throwing you off your game.

not that you ever really had game.

a walker grabbed at your shoulders causing you to let out a fearful whimper. you used the time you had to plunge the knife into it’s head. your eyes widened as you missed the brain, blood spurted out into your face and onto your clothes. you took the knife out and tried again, this time the walker fell limp at your feet. 

before you could so much as try and attempt to take out another walker, one practically lurched onto you from the side.

daryl felt you hit against his back and cursed you. you were so damn clumsy and usually, he was okay with it. more often than not he’d smile at you, kiss your hurt forehead and tell you that you must begin looking where you’re going but now, he was anything but comforting. if anything, it took everything in him not to spin around and yell at you then and there.

but he didn’t, merely because he was too preoccupied with killing the walker in his hands. he plunged the knife forward, hitting two walkers and piercing straight through their heads. with a separate hand, he shoved the knife into another.

he couldn’t deny the relief that flooded his veins as he took out every last walker on his side.

he rolled his eyes before readying his arms, beginning to spin around and just knowing you’d need help. 

his eyes widened at the sight of you on the ground.

foot pushing up against a walker, you attempted to get it away. while another was crawling on you, you could have let out a whimper, knowing your knife had been tossed away from you.

there were too many.

as if the ‘big man in the sky’ had answered your prayers, you closed your eyes shut at the feeling of blood spurting out onto your face. finally, you peeled them open upon the sound of groaning and gargling coming to a stop. the sight of daryl dixon came into view, he’d taken out every last walker.

and he did not look pleased.

“daryl―” you couldn’t so much as get a word out. before you could even try to defend your cause, he was speaking. 

“are you fuckin’ stupid?!” daryl was an angry man, through and through. he channelled that anger, using it for things like this, taking out walkers or any other said enemy. never, had you been on the receiving end of his bellowing voice. “you ain’ gonna fucking make it out here if you need me watching your back every other second!” 

you could feel your eyes sting, pathetically.

you didn’t want to cry nor did you want to let daryl see you cry, not like this. he’d wiped your tears a thousand times over, even if it was because someone was yelling at you. you’d claim that it’s no big deal, that you were being dramatic and he’d always swoop in, telling you that it’s not dramatic and nobody should yell at a ‘flower like you’. you wondered what changed. “i was trying.” you uttered out pathetically once more, voice all broken.

“wasn’t tryin’ enough!” his hand roughly grabbed yours, practically hoisting you up from the ground. you let out the smallest of whimpers. not because it hurt but because you’d never seen him this angry at you. “are you hurt?” but his voice was anything but caring. it seemed as though you were just another burden to him.

instead of replying, you merely shook your head, it was bent down so he couldn’t see your watery eyes.

but he took it as a well enough response, because he cleared his throat, pocketing his knife. “we have to keep moving.” you wondered if he’d fallen guilty after his words spat you in the face, you guessed he did because for the duration of the walk, he kept glancing back at you, as if to see if you were still so upset.

and you were.

perhaps it really was a silly thing to be upset about. but daryl knew how much you hated yelling. he was well aware of all the baggage it came from, the flashbacks it may have caused. he knew you better than anyone, he’d been the one to wipe your tears from the same thing many times ago. 

deep down you knew he was only yelling because the emotions were high. he was worried about the kids of the prison, everyone else. he was worried about rick and carl, carol and judith, everyone there was to worry about, he was doing the worrying. he got in his head like that a lot.

but that didn’t change the fact that he’d yelled at you so easily, as if he’d been dying to all day. 

and could you so much as blame him anymore? you had been talking his ear off. no doubt, because you thought you were doing the right thing but you tried to put yourself in his shoes. you’d get annoyed too, right? 

the difference between you both?

you never would have so much as dreamed about talking to him the way he spoke to you. 

“there’s a cabin around here, we’ll hole up for the night.” he received no response, so he turned his head. “y’ listening?” 

once again, you didn’t speak, merely nodding. he sighed before turning his head and squeezing his eyes shut. he didn’t apologise, stubborn to the end. he didn’t often apologise to you, probably because he never found himself in a position where he had to but you were the complete opposite, always apologising profoundly for everything you did, even if it hadn’t been your fault.

you wondered if he wasn’t apologising because he wasn’t actually sorry.

he used his hand to beat down on the door, waiting to hear groans and gurgles. when he didn’t, he opened the door, peering inside. it was safe.

he let you go, watching as you practically scurried inside, ready to get away from the horrid outside world. maybe you were ready to get away from him. he found guilt eating at his insides, like a walker biting into flesh. the thought of you being angry with him was worse than the thought of getting bit right about now.

but he knew you, knew you more than anyone. and he knew you weren’t angry with him, you were merely upset.

stubborn as he was, he needed to make it better for he shouldn’t have yelled at you, as annoyed as he was.

after lighting a fire, he made his way towards the kitchen, where he somehow knew you’d be. as if he could sense your presence and everywhere it loomed. he could have spotted the back of your head from a mile away. there you were, stood in the kitchen in front of the sink, you must have been checking if they had running water. surprise, surprise, they didn’t. 

he leaned his body against the door frame, head gently landing on it as he watched you. you were yet to notice his presence, your hands scrubbing dryly at the other. there was blood coating all over your hands, not your own, walker blood. you needed it off and you needed it off now.

daryl knew how you got, always fussing over getting dirty as it was but when it came to walkers, you didn’t want any of it on you. it was always a challenge when the group was willingly putting walker guts all over their coats to disguise themselves.

he’d had enough of watching you, opting to walk inside the room. “c’mere, angel.” you heard his words, freezing up and he could only feel guilt eat at his bones. he carried a cloth, slightly damp. you allowed him to take your hands in his own, cloth gently working against the dirtied skin. “y’alright?” you didn’t respond, nodding.

you hadn’t so much as opened his mouth since he’d yelled at you. 

“baby…” and then he heard it, the mere sniffle that had you turning your head. 

“‘m okay.” voice cracking showing that you were not, in fact, okay. 

he could only frown at you. he felt you try to move away but his hands kept you still, grasping your own and keeping you in place. he waited in silence until you were ready to look up at him. when you did, he almost wished you’d hadn’t. your eyes were red rimmed and watery. you’d been crying. no longer was there that judgemental piece in his eyes. instead, you could only catch the guilt swarming in them.

“‘m sorry.” was the words that you practically clung to, that left his mouth. “‘m so sorry, baby, c’mere.” you felt his arms wrap you up.

you were too upset to argue.

so instead, you allowed him to take you into an embrace, hell you threw your arms around his neck to hold him impossibly closer. there was that gentle feeling again, the one you’d longed for so much. but you couldn’t have asked, no. how could you ask for comfort from the same person that’d hurt you in the first place?

thankfully, daryl made most of your decisions for you.

“‘m sorry.” you croaked out. “i wasn’t looking and then the walker just came out of nowhere and i swear i tried―”

daryl was quick to cut you off.

your head was held in his own dirty hands. though you hated the dirt on yourself, there was almost a comforting feeling to the dirt on him. perhaps it was the familiarity. “you ain’ got nothin’ to be sorry for, alright? nobody should yell at you, ‘specially not me.” 

you didn’t know whether to agree or not.

“you did what you could ‘n i’m proud of you, y’know that?” you felt your eyes begin to get watery again, god you wished you could stop crying. as if he could read your mind, he spoke, “‘n it’s okay to cry, i was bein’ an asshole.” 

you sniffled before giggling slightly. “you were.” 

he couldn’t help the way his lips turned up at the sound he’d missed so dearly. “yeah, i was, wasn’t i? ‘m just… worried, y’know? for everyone. not everyone has a flower like you in their group.” 

you shook your head with a sniffle, ignoring his words directed to you. “they’re gonna be fine, we’ll find ‘em.”

“yeah, we will.” he nodded, as if whatever came from your mouth, he could suddenly believe. you had that effect on him that he’d never tell. “but right now, i jus’ care about you, alright? c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

and how could you deny hands once so angry, now so gentle?

main masterlist/daryl's masterlist

a/n: rahhhh (this was horrible.)

[fictional-lvr]

daryl dixon is such a little cutie patootie

#daryl dixon #twd