Born 1986. This blog is 18+ only 🔞 - if you’re a minor please leave!
I write erotica and erotic fan fiction as well as creepy pasta style horror and paranormal which you can find here.
Below the cut is a current list of everyone I've written for and links to their imagine lists.
╰┈➤ Tag List [updated 25 April 2025]
+ Please remember that likes are awesome but reblogging is AMAZING and helps spread my work further! +
If you ever want to be tagged in a specific character or genre please drop me a message.
Inbox/ask box is always open. Anon is on; don’t abuse it. I take requests so feel free to send them in.
divider by @unowakot
Click a link below to head over to the page for that muse.
Also please check out the Mixed Subject for muses I don't regularly write for OR currently have no plans to write for again.
A blue link means I’ve updated the link to the new format and it won’t open in a browser if you’re using the mobile app.
These lists are currently all up to date and as I add imagines in the future I will add a date beside them to denote their last update.
So let me know if this may be of interest to you but I have a lot of medical bills and expenses these past few weeks that are legit killing me so I was wondering if personalized edits with a fic or making a ship x reader drabbles would be something people would be interested in. I’d set it up somewhere like Venmo or if anyone has a better method we can do that. This is an idea inspired by @wendichester ‘s astrology readings and I’d be happy to do supernatural or any other fandom I have knowledge in. I can try other ones but I don’t want to disappoint if I don’t know all the lore or the character LOL. You can either dm me with the ideas you’d like to see or submit it through asks. Maybe I’ll even make a google survey link, whatever is easiest. I’d charge maybe between $3-5 depending on how complicated or long it turns out. Hope this isn’t stupid as we all are struggling rn I’m sure ❤️ lots of love y’all just thought this was a cute idea!!
'Mandalorian and Grogu' Cast Answer The 50 Most Searched Star Wars & Mandalorian Questions | WIRED (27 May 2026)
WIRED tasks Pedro Pascal (The Mandalorian), Sigourney Weaver (Colonel Ward), Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni from Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu to answer the 50 most searched questions about The Mandalorian and Grogu.
would you ever write something with daryl proposing to reader? i know he probably wouldnt get down on one knee and instead would do something in his own daryl dixon way of being, like making her a ring and just putting on her finger while she sleeps
⌖hopin’ with ya.
daryl dixon x reader
➶➴ tags: tags: daryl dixon fluff, marriage proposal, established relationship, soft apocalypse domesticity, happy ending.
➶➴ wc: ~2.4k
the wood of the porch swing groaned under your combined weight, a steady, rhythmic creak that had long since become the soundtrack to your quietest evenings. around you, the garden was a wild tangle of overgrown green, a casualty of the world's ruin, but right at the edge of the steps, a neat row of marigolds thrived that you had planted.
daryl stared down at his dirt-stained boots, his calloused thumbs mindlessly rubbing against the thick fabric of his pocket. inside, a small, heavy weight had been resting for months—a constant, physical reminder of the day he’d finally understood you.
it had happened nearly half a year ago, back at the old safehouse before you’d moved here. you had been cleaning out a cluttered drawer and pulled out a rusted, tarnished metal band. you’d held it with a kind of quiet reverence, your voice soft as you murmured something about how strange it was that people used to promise themselves to one another forever.
daryl, exhausted from a three-day scout and hardened by a decade of ash and blood, hadn’t even looked up from cleaning his crossbow. “ain't strange. just pointless,” he’d muttered, his tone clipped and dismissive. “a piece of metal and a scrap of paper don't stop a walker from tearing your throat out. don't keep the winter from freezing ya. it's just old-world nonsense that didn't save nobody.”
he’d known the exact second the words left his mouth that he’d butchered it. he hadn't meant to be cruel—he was just stating what he thought was an obvious, survivalist fact. but when he finally looked up, your face had completely fallen. you hadn't argued. you hadn't yelled. you’d just quietly set the rusted band down, swallowed hard, and said, “right. of course.”
it had festered in daryl’s chest. for weeks, he couldn't shake the memory of how quickly you’d shrunk back into yourself. he realized, in the slow, agonizing way he processed things, that you weren't naive. you didn't think a piece of metal had magical protective powers. you just refused to let the world strip away every single piece of beauty, tradition, and human sanctity it had stolen.
it was two months after that argument. daryl had been scavenging an abandoned, collapsed property three towns over. he’d cleared the walkers in the kitchen, swept the perimeter, and ended up in an upstairs bedroom that smelled of damp wood and forgotten time. he pulled open a dust-covered dresser drawer, looking for ammunition or thick socks.
instead, sitting right beside a stack of faded, handmade quilts, was a small velvet box.
he opened it, and the vintage, art deco engagement ring inside seemed to stare back at him. the platinum was tarnished, but the geometric diamond still caught the dim light filtering through the cracked window—stubborn, sharp, and bright.
standing in that quiet, dead room, daryl had stared at it for a long time. his jaw tightened as your face flashed in his mind. “it’s just old-world nonsense,” he’d told you. but looking at this ring, preserved in a house where the inhabitants had long since turned to dust, he finally got it.
he thought about every single goddamn marriage he’d ever witnessed growing up in the suffocating georgia dirt, and how every single one of them had been complete and utter shit. to him, marriage wasn't a holy vow; it was a prison sentence. it was a piece of paper that trapped miserable, broken people in a cycle of hatred, making them think they had to stay together just because of a couple of cheap bands on their fingers. he’d grown up believing a ring was just a shackle you couldn't unlock.
but looking at this ring, he finally saw the other side of it. the people who lived in this farmhouse hadn't built a prison. they had built a life. they had chosen to give this little piece of metal a weight that outlived the end of the world.
you didn't want a ring because you thought it would save you, and you certainly didn't want the toxic, broken version of love he’d been raised on. you wanted it because you believed some things were still worth holding onto.
without really understanding the full weight of what he was doing, daryl had reached out, picked up the ring, and shoved it deep into his vest pocket. it hadn't left his side since.
"hey," daryl muttered, his voice rougher than usual, cutting through the twilight and bringing him back to the present.
you looked up from your hands, tilting your head. "yeah?"
he didn't look at you. instead, he reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the tarnished platinum before he pulled it out, holding it out between his thumb and forefinger. it sat there, a tiny piece of the old world resting in your scarred, dirty palm.
"found it. a while back," he said, the words jerking out of him. "in that house by the creek. the one with the quilts ya liked."
you breathed in sharply, your eyes fixating on the geometric lines of the diamond. you didn't reach for it, but your chest hitched, the memory of his harsh words from months ago hanging invisibly in the air between you.
daryl shifted his boots, his ears burning hot in the dimming light. he looked out toward the tree line, his grip tightening on the metal band.
"if ya changed your mind... i can throw this thing as far as i can chuck it," he said, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with a vulnerability that clearly terrified him. "i just... i want to do right by ya. that's all."
it was a confession. he swallowed hard, the collar of his vest suddenly feeling suffocatingly tight.
"i know what i said before. about it bein' pointless," he started, his voice halting, awkward, scraping the bottom of his throat. "i was wrong. i grew up watchin' people use it like a weapon, ya know? it was always just ugly. made me think the whole thing was a lie."
he finally turned his head to look at you, and the raw, quiet vulnerability in your eyes almost made him choke on his next breath.
"but i still think a piece of paper don't mean thin' out here. if the walls fall tomorrow, or a herd comes through... a ring ain't gonna stop it. don't change what we are. don't make me love ya any more than i already do. but i was thinkin'... maybe that ain't the point. the world's gone to hell. it takes everything. it takes people, it takes houses, it takes the way things used to be. but you... you don't let it take everything."
he gestured vaguely toward the marigolds by the steps.
"you plant stuff. you fix things up. you keep lookin' forward, even when it's stupid to. you give things meaning just 'cause you choose to. and..." he cleared his throat, his eyes burning. "i think maybe that's what i love most about ya. that you don't give up on the good stuff. i shouldn't have tried to take that from ya just 'cause my own life was messy."
he’d meant for this to be a conversation. he’d planned to just lay it out there, to see your reaction, to see if a ring was something you still even wanted after he’d bungled it so badly the first time.
but as he watched a single, silent tear slip down your cheek, something shifted in his chest. the heavy, stubborn knot he’d carried his whole life just... unraveled. the defensiveness melted away, leaving him entirely exposed. he didn't need to check if you'd changed your mind. he didn't need to throw it away. he already knew. he’d made up his mind the second he took it from that dresser drawer.
daryl stood up from the swing. the sudden movement made the wood groan loudly.
he took two nervous, heavy steps away, his boots thudding against the porch. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, took a ragged breath, and turned back around to face you.
then, for the first time in his life, daryl dixon willingly dropped to one knee.
he looked entirely out of his element. his frame was too big, his leather vest creaked, and his hands were trembling as he held the ring out toward you. a tear had tracked through the dirt on his own cheek, though he’d die before admitting it.
"i'm a pain in the ass," he choked out.
his mouth twitched, the corner pulling tight as he tried to anchor himself against the sheer panic of being this exposed.
"but i wanna keep hopin’ with ya."
he swallowed, his blue eyes fiercely, devastatingly earnest beneath his messy dark hair.
"wanna put up with me till the end of our days?"
you instantly nodded, tears spilling over. he reached out, his big, rough hand blindly grabbing for yours. his fingers were shaking so badly he didn't even notice which hand he took, his focus entirely consumed by the look on your face. through the heavy tears blurring your vision, a sudden, wet giggle slipped past your lips when you realized what he was doing—he had grabbed your right hand and was entirely focused on trying to guide the tarnished platinum onto your right ring finger.
the sound of your giggle made his shoulders stiffen immediately. he stopped, his brows furrowing as he looked from the ring up to your face, completely flustered.
you let out another breathless, watery laugh, your free left hand coming up to gently touch his knuckles, guiding his hands over to the correct side. "other hand, daryl," you whispered, your voice thick with crying but light with a sudden, overwhelming warmth.
daryl blinked, staring down at your left hand, and a dark, burning flush immediately flooded his neck and ears. "shit," he muttered, a rough, self-deprecating chuckle ripping from his chest as he shifted the ring to the correct hand. "told ya i'd mess it up."
he slid the vintage band into place, his other thumb catching a stray tear before it could hit your chin.
