🦷

𝕭𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚

[carnivorousbites]

𝕹𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Hi you call can call me Nibbles. Welcome to my blog. Feel free to stay and have a bite or a meal.

🦷𝕬𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝕸𝖊

🦷𝕬𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖌

🦷𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘

🦷𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖘

🦷𝕭𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌

Talk to me, send requests, leave comments I don’t bite…much.

All images are from Pinterest.

[carnivorousbites]

Guys I’m filling in as a temporary supervisor at my job….. if I had known being a supervisor would be a combination of babysitting, begging people to cover shifts, and working way longer hours I would have told them to respectfully and kindly either compensated me far more or told them to fuck off.

That’s it that’s my venting. Hopefully I’ll get the stripper fic out this week but who knows.

-Nibbles 🦷

[hollowhuntress]

thinkin’ about daryl in the morning.

pale gold ribbons of sunlight flood the room like warm honey, turning floating dust motes into drifting stars. everything feels blurred around the edges, suspended in that hazy space right between a dream and waking up. daryl is buried under blankets on the mattress, but when his arm sweeps across the sheets and finds your side cold, his eyes blink open, slow and weighted, tracing the quiet until he hears the faint rustle of fabric.

through heavy eyelids, he finds you standing beside the dresser, holding a portable cd player in one hand while the wire from your headphones disappears beneath the collar of his vest. your own clothes are hanging on the clothesline outside, leaving you to steal the first thing you could find. his vest hangs loose on your frame, the worn, cracked leather nearly swallowing you whole against your bare skin and thin cotton underwear. completely oblivious, you fold laundry to a silent melody only you can hear, carrying the cd player with you every time you move across the sun-warmed floorboards, swaying lazily as the leather brushes your thighs. daryl doesn’t move, too content to break the spell, watching through tired squinted eyes.

then, you turn toward the window.

the sunlight catches the back of the vest dead-on, exploding into a bright halo around you. the faded angel wings stitched into the fabric look almost luminous, stretching wide across your bare shoulders. he watches, too tired to move, until the floorboard beneath your foot creaks.

you glance over your shoulder and freeze, suspended in the sunbeam with the cd player loose in your hand. there he is, stretched out beneath the blankets with his dark hair sticking up, squinting with an expression somewhere between amused and completely smitten. heat creeps into your cheeks as you pull one side of the headphones away from your ear.

“what?”

his gaze drops briefly to the vest, to the wings on your shoulders, and then back to you. his morning voice is a low, velvety rasp when it finally cuts through the quiet.

“c’mere, angel.”

you blink. “angel?”

the ghost of a smirk touches his lips, lazy and soft, completely melting the usual tension in his face as he looks at you like you’re the only thing left real in the world.

“got my wings on, don’t ya?”

[carnivorousbites]

Omfg stop. The ending just made my heart flutter

[carnivorousbites]

hey! i think it would be cool if u did a story based on the headcanon of early vs. later daryl, where the reader meets daryl at the beginning and is used to this one version of him. something might happen where they lose touch and eventually stay away from each other for a long period, and when the reader meets daryl again (already in the later version), the reader found it strange to see him so different from what he was used to be, having to disconnect from a version of daryl that no longer exists.

perhaps their relationship could have been abusive in some way, or perhaps there was something the reader could do that might bring back some traces of the old daryl? idk!!! i just love the way u write and think it will be fun to have more content about early vs. later daryl 😼

Hello! Thank you so much for the compliment it means so much that you enjoy my writing. I definitely am intrigued by this and am more than willing to take a shot at it. I’m already thinking season 1 early Daryl. Split up at the end of season 2 when the farm falls. Reconnect at season 5/6 when they are settled in Alexandria.

I don’t think it will be flat out abusive. But I do think that it will fall into misogynistic, sexist, and aggressive behaviors that Daryl learned and adopted that will change and shift over time as he spends less time with folks who have that same mentality like Merle, Ed, and Shane to people who enforce nonabusive behaviors like Glenn, Rick, Carol. (similarly to how Daryl changes in the show).

I can totally bring some old Daryl back up cause the end of my original post I think he says the fact he lashes out is because he’s not vulnerable and as time progresses he becomes vulnerable through actions and slowly through words. Reader probably has some big feelings about how she was treated.

I will definitely write this. It may be a minute cause I’m still working on the stripper fic and I’m slowly wading through my other works I’m writing! But thank you for the request!

-Nibbles 🦷

[aurorarpresources]

reblog this if you're fine with your mutuals sending you asks unprompted

[carnivorousbites]

Yesss always love interacting with my moots ♥️

[drizzledrawings]

Respectfully

[carnivorousbites]

Cowbians!!!

[evilscheme]

A belly can be a "slut waist" too. If you're not a fearful little freak

[carnivorousbites]

Love me some belly, tummy, love handles

[thescudster-deactivated20150601]

[hollowhuntress]

ain't right, wantin' ya.

⌖part two⌖

daryl dixon x fem!reader

➶➴ summary: somewhere between meetings and stolen glances across the courtyard, daryl finds himself unravelin' over a girl he knows he shouldn't want.

➶➴ tags: nsfw/mdni/18+, prison era, slow burn, age gap, jealous daryl, protective daryl, mutual pining, forbidden romance, sexual tension, apocalypse romance, emotionally repressed daryl, inexperienced daryl / reader

wc: ~ 1,332

⌖part one⌖

the heat from the road rose in shimmering waves, but it was nothing compared to the sweltering, suffocating silence hanging between the two of you on the bike.

the asphalt gave way to cracked dirt and overgrown weeds as the motorcycle tore down the old logging trail. the canopy of oak and pine closed in overhead, blocking out the harsh midday sun and swallowing the both of you in shifting, green-tinted shadows. every bump in the road was a deliberate torment. each time the bike hit a rut, your body was thrown hard against daryl’s back, your breasts flattening against his spine, your thighs tightening around his hips to keep your balance. under your palms, daryl’s stomach muscles were hard as iron, flexing and rippling with every micro-adjustment he made to the handlebars. he wasn't easing up on the throttle. he was riding fast, reckless, driven by a raw kinetic energy that felt less like traveling and more like running away from the edge of a cliff.

you leaned your cheek against his shoulder blade, inhaling deeply. the scent of the lye soap was fading, giving way to the heat of his skin, the familiar musk of stale tobacco, and the hot grease of the engine. he felt immovable beneath you, an unyielding wall of heat that seemed to vibrate in sync with the roaring machine between your legs.

after endless miles, the trees broke. daryl killed the engine, coasting the bike into the dense brush behind a collapsed barn. the sudden silence of the woods was deafening, save for the ticking of the cooling exhaust.

for a long moment, neither of you moved. you were still wrapped around him, your chest rising and falling against his back. daryl sat with his hands still gripping the handlebars, his knuckles white, his head bowed. his breathing was deep, his shoulders rising and falling in uneven cycles.

"get off," he muttered, his voice so thick and gravelly it sounded like it had been dragged through the dirt.

you let your arms drop, sliding off the back of the seat. the moment your boots hit the ground, your knees felt weak, the residual vibration of the bike still humming through your thighs, keeping the deep, throbbing ache between your legs intensely alive.

daryl swung his leg over the bike and stood up, refusing to look at you. he immediately reached for his crossbow, slinging it over his shoulder.

"pharmacy is just through that tree line," he said, his voice tight, his southern drawl cutting sharp through the quiet air. "we do this quick. we do it right. keep your eyes on the tree line while i get the bag. understand?"

"daryl," you said softly, stepping into his space.

"i said, keep watch," he snapped, finally spinning around to face you. his eyes were dark, bloodshot from lack of sleep. the fake composure he’d maintained in front of rick was gone, replaced by a raw, feral frustration. "don't start. not out here. i'm tryin' to keep us alive, and you're—" he choked on his own words, his gaze dropping involuntarily to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. "just do what i tell ya."

you stood your ground for a second, the heat radiating off him nearly enough to push you back, before you finally nodded and turned toward the thick wall of pines. you kept your eyes on the shadows of the tree line, your ears straining for the sound of snapping twigs or the wet, dragging footsteps of the dead. behind you, you heard the rough canvas of his duffel bag rustling, the thud of his boots against the dirt, and the frantic, shallow rhythm of his breathing. he was working too fast, his usual meticulous tracking discipline shot to hell by the sheer proximity of your body.

"alright," he grunted after a few minutes, the leather of his vest creaking as he stepped up behind you. "move out. stay on my heel."

he bypassed the main road entirely, cutting through a rusted section of chain-link fence behind the small-town pharmacy. the glass on the back door was intact but caked in decades of grime, looking dark and ominous. daryl didn't hesitate. he jammed the blade of his hunting knife into the old lock mechanism, giving it a fierce, sharp twist until the ancient brass gave way with a loud, echoing crack that made you both freeze.

he waited, counting the seconds in the dead silence, before pushing the door open and slipping inside.

the air inside the pharmacy was cool, smelling of damp paper, old dust, and stale plastic. it was a small independent clinic, the shelves half-ransacked but mostly intact. daryl moved with his usual lethal efficiency, clearing the two short aisles with his knife drawn, his boots making no sound on the linoleum. once he satisfied himself that the place was empty, he sheathed his knife and ripped the list from his pocket, his eyes scanning the crumpled paper with a fierce, almost frantic focus—anything to keep from looking at you.

"start on that side," he grunted, nodding toward the shelves labeled ailments & pain relief. "look for the amoxicillin. anything in a sealed bottle."

you nodded, stepping into the narrow aisle. the space was incredibly tight. when daryl moved past you to check the back counter, his broad shoulder brushed against yours, a sharp, deliberate friction that sent a spike of heat straight down your spine. you both froze for a fraction of a second, the air between you turning thick and heavy, before he ripped himself away, his boots scuffing hard against the floor.

you tried to focus on the bottles, your fingers trembling slightly as you moved them aside, but your eyes kept tracking him. he was tossing bottles into his duffel bag with too much force, his breathing shallow and loud in the quiet store.

then, you saw him stop dead in front of a small, rotating display right next to the pharmacy register.

through the dusty plastic dividers, the bold lettering of the condom boxes practically screamed in the dim light. daryl stared at them. his entire back went dead silent, his broad shoulders locking up. from behind, you watched the tips of his ears turn a deep, furious crimson.

he stood there for five agonizing seconds, his head bowed, fighting a war with himself. with a sudden, sharp jerk, he reached out, his thick, grease-stained fingers wrapping around a couple of boxes. he didn't look at the labels, didn't check the sizes—he just snatched them off the hooks and shoved them deep into the bottom of his duffel bag, throwing a handful of gauze rolls over them to bury them out of sight.

he let out a sharp, shallow breath, his jaw working as he spun around, finally catching you watching him. his dark eyes flared with a wild, cornered heat, his chest heaving under his vest.

"got what we need," he snapped, his voice dropping into a harsh, warning whisper that cut through the aisle. "let's go. now."

the short ride from the pharmacy to the abandoned house was a blur of raw nerves. by the time you reached the house, the woods had darkened into late evening gold.

daryl was a total mess on the bike. he took the turns too hard, his boots skimming the dirt as he navigated the final stretch of the old trail. his mind was spinning. the memory of what he had done in that dark hallway just twenty-four hours prior—the rough way he had gripped himself, the noises he’d made while panting into the dust—was flashing behind his eyelids in agonizing detail. his skin felt like it was on fire under his leather vest.

more than that, a deep, clawing anxiety was eating at his stomach. what if you hated the house? what if you thought he was crazy for dragging you out here? he was a tracker, a redneck drift-away who slept on dirt and lived off grease; he didn't know anything about romance or what a woman like you wanted. the thought that he might look foolish, or worse, that his clumsy attempt at giving you something nice would make you pull away, had his heart hammering against his ribs.

when the motorcycle finally idled down in the overgrown driveway of the secluded craftsman home, daryl killed the ignition and sat dead still. his hands were shaking so badly he had to keep them balled into fists against the handlebars.

"it's... it's up here," he muttered, his voice a low, strained rasp. he got off the bike, grabbing the duffel bag, keeping his eyes locked on the porch steps, his broad back rigid as he led the way inside.

the front door creaked open, and the preserved silence of the house swallowed you both. the air smelled of decay mixed with old cedar, candle smoke, and a faint hint of mildew. daryl walked down the narrow corridor, his eyes deliberately avoiding the dark hallway where he’d lost his mind the day before, though his neck flushed a deep, telltale red as he passed it. he pushed open the bedroom door and stepped aside, his breath catching in his throat as he waited for your reaction.

you stepped into the room, and the breath left your lungs. the setting sun filtered softly through the delicate, dusty lace curtains draped over the antler mount on the wall. dust motes danced in the shafts of light, disturbed by your movement. the deep mahogany of the bed and dresser set looked rich and dark in the dim light, the faded lace doilies and clusters of burnt candles giving the space a holy, untouched atmosphere. a few faded family photos sat on the mantle, turned face down. it was beautiful. it was safe.

you let out a soft, breathless sound of absolute wonder, walking over to the bed, your hand reaching out to trace the smooth, dark wood of the footboard before you sat down on the edge of the mattress. "it’s... it’s perfect. you found this for me?"

hearing the genuine sweetness in your voice, the sheer relief that washed over daryl was so physical his shoulders dropped. he let out a long, shuddering breath, his head shaking slightly as he tried to process that he hadn’t screwed it up, setting the duffel bag down with a thud.

"yeah," he muttered, his voice thick and rough. "thought... thought you'd like it."

to cover the overwhelming wave of vulnerability crashing over him, daryl immediately reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. his hands were still trembling slightly as he struck his plastic lighter, the small flame illuminating the sharp, nervous angles of his face. he took a deep, dragging pull, the blue smoke curling around his messy fringe as he leaned his hip against the heavy mahogany dresser.

before dropping the lighter, he kept the flame sparked. with a tense energy, he moved across the room, using that exact same lighter to bring the room to life. one by one, he touched the flame to the clusters of candles gathered on the dresser, watching the small wicks catch and cast a warm glow, candle wax dripping softly onto the old wood. then he stepped over to the nightstand, leaning down to light the remaining candles there. the small, golden flames flickered into existence, bathing the dark wood in warm light and illuminating the soft curve of your throat. he blew out a stream of smoke, his dark eyes locking onto yours through the haze as he finally snapped the lighter shut and set it down.

as you sat on the edge of the mattress, your eyes drifted to the dresser drawers. poking out from the top seam of the dark wood was a sliver of white fabric. curiosity pulling at you, you stood up and walked over, sliding the drawer open. an old perfume smell, trapped in the drawer for years, wafted out as your fingers pulled out a vintage, white lace nightgown. it was delicate, completely sheer, and beautifully preserved.

you looked up at him, a sudden spark of courage cutting through your nerves. "i'm going to wash up," you murmured, holding the lace against your chest. "and put this on."

daryl choked on his smoke, coughing as his eyes locked onto the fabric in your hands, his face turning an instant, burning crimson again. he couldn't even form a coherent word, merely nodding as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

he cleared his throat, looking away. "i’m gon’ clear the rest of the house."

in the small, adjoining bathroom, you used a clean rag and a basin of water to wash the grime of the road from your skin. you could tell daryl had already done the exact same thing before he brought you here. slipping the nightgown over your head, the sheer material fell softly against your skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

the room went humid with tension. you stood in front of the large mirror attached to the mahogany dresser, the candles daryl had just lit casting a warm, golden glow across your skin and illuminating your reflection. the sheer fabric showed every curve of your body, the tight, dark peaks of your nipples clearly visible beneath the lace.

a floorboard creaked behind you. daryl had approached silently, but the sight of you in the mirror made him stop dead. his chest rose and fell in deep, uneven cycles.

he didn't have his cigarette in his mouth anymore; he had set it smoldering on a porcelain dish to keep his face completely free for you. slowly, he closed the distance until he was towering right behind you, his heat enveloping your bare shoulders. he looked at your reflection, his dark eyes wide and consumed. he reached up, his rough hands coming down to rest on your waist. his thumbs dragged against your hip bones, his fingers trembling under the weight of his own conscience. his skin still smelled faintly of gasoline and grease, even after washing.

"ain't right..." he trailed off, his voice dropping into a register so low and gravelly it vibrated straight through your skin. he stared at your reflection, his jaw tight. "wantin ya. shouldn't be thinkin' 'bout you like this."

you turned your head slightly, looking back at him through the glass, a sudden, fierce certainty anchoring your voice. "why? i know what i want."

daryl let out a sharp, ragged hitch of a breath. his large hands instantly gripped tighter on your hips, pulling your lower body back against his denim-clad thighs with possessive suddenness.

"and what i want is you," you added softly, your eyes locked onto his in the mirror.

his grip remained solid, anchoring you to his chest, but the finality of your words seemed to throw him completely off-balance. his breathing was shallow and hot against your neck as he leaned down, his forehead dropping against your bare shoulder blade for a split second.

his jaw flexed, his eyes darting away before he rasped out, "gon’ be clumsy."

his bare lips finally found your skin, beginning to pepper slow, sharp kisses along your jawline.

"it’s okay," you whimpered back, your eyes closing as his lips pressed into your neck.

hearing your shaky, nervous confirmation seemed to snap the last thread of his restraint. daryl let out a low, defeated growl, reaching for his clothes with a frustrated, impatient urgency. first, he yanked his leather vest down with a rough jerk, shrugging it off his shoulders and tossing it to the floorboards. next, he grabbed the hem of his sleeveless shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift, sharp motion, his messy fringe catching briefly on the collar before falling wildly into his eyes. the shifting candlelight caught the pale, heavily scarred skin of his back and the corded muscle of his torso. he was completely shirtless, his chest heaving, but he still had his heavy denim pants and boots on.

he turned you around, his grip moving from your hips to your waist, and effortlessly lifted you onto the high mattress. the old wood groaned and the bedframe tapped softly against the wall under his weight as he climbed up after you, his movements driven by a frantic desperation to touch you everywhere at once.

shifting his weight, daryl pressed his clothed knee right up against your core, the rugged denim of his jeans creating a blunt, grounding pressure against your panties through the sheer fabric of the nightgown. the solid weight of his knee anchored you to the mattress, and he immediately leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his mouth was wet and completely uncoordinated as he began to leave frantic kisses along your collarbone and up to your jawline, his rough chin scratching your soft skin. at the same time, his thick, grease-stained hands came up to your chest. his thumbs began to lightly circle your nipples over the thin white lace of the nightgown, the friction making the peaks harden instantly beneath his palms.

the pressure of his denim-clad knee against your core was overwhelming. instinctively, your hips tilted upward, and you began grinding against his leg, seeking relief from the agonizing ache building between your thighs.

the moment your body began grinding against his leg, it absolutely killed him. daryl let out a sharp, broken groan, his whole body locked, hips jerking involuntarily. he stopped dead, burying his face hard in your shoulder as he fiercely fought his own anatomy. he was breathing like he’d been hunted, his chest heaving against yours.

he paused, he went rigid for a second. a sudden look of severe self-consciousness flashed across his face, his eyes searching yours with a raw, panicked vulnerability. he misread your breathlessness, assuming he had overstepped or hurt you.

"i... i'm sorry," he choked out, his voice a ruined scrape into your skin as he started to pull back. "pushed too hard. i didn't mean to—"

"daryl, no," you interrupted, reaching up to clasp his face, pulling him back down. "you didn't. don't stop."

relief washed over his features, though his jaw remained tight. "damn it," he gasped, his forehead resting against yours for a brief second. "hold up... just hold up. i ain't..."

knowing he was right on the brink and wanting to make it good for you first, daryl forced himself to shift down. he lowered himself down the mattress, his hands sliding down your thighs to gently pull the sheer lace nightgown up, bunching the white fabric around your waist. he leaned down, pressing a string of kisses down the center of your tummy, his breathing hot and shallow against your skin.

he moved lower until his lips reached the damp cotton of your panties. resting his jaw heavily against your inner thigh, he paused, his dark eyes looking up at you through his messy fringe, wide and completely intense in the candlelight.

"gotta tell me if it's right," he rasped, his voice dropping into a low, rough growl that shook with raw nerves. "if it hurts. any of it. don't go hidin' it from me."

you nodded breathlessly, your fingers clutching the old quilt beneath you.

daryl didn't waste another second. he hooked his thick fingers into the elastic of your panties, sliding them down your legs and tossing them onto the floorboards before parting your knees wide. he slid down between your thighs, his denim pants frictioning against your skin while his boots remained securely on, dangling off the foot of the bed. he buried his face directly between your legs.

"you’re soppin’," he growled, the unfiltered observation slipping out of him before he ate you out with a fierce hunger. his tongue lapped at you with a messy desperation before finding a steady, relentless rhythm against your sweet spot. his hands dug hard into your hips, anchoring your lower body to his mouth as he worked.

he didn't rush it.

"good?" he choked out, the word muffled and breathless against your clit.

"so good," you cried out, your hands shooting directly into his messy hair, holding him close.

he stayed down there for minutes on end, entirely focused on the way your body responded to him. he listened to the gradual shift in your breathing, waiting out the slow, steady build of heat and moisture as your body climbed. he tracked every tiny twitch of your thighs, keeping a constant, wet pressure on your core until the tension in your hips became completely coiled. he didn't stop until your breath caught in a high, sobbing gasp and your body began to shake, your core throwing off a wave of intense heat as you finally broke, finishing completely against his mouth.

daryl drank in your high, shattering release, his jaw slick with you as he finally slid back up your body. his chest was heaving, his dark eyes completely pitch-black as he hovered over your trembling form.

his hands were shaking so badly he could barely control them. he leaned over the edge of the high mattress, practically diving into the canvas duffel bag resting on the floor. his large hands frantically fumbled through the supply of medical gear, knocking pill bottles and gauze rolls aside as he desperately rummaged through the dark bottom of the bag to find the boxes of condoms he had snatched from the pharmacy. he pulled one out, squinting hard at the tiny lettering on the box in the dim, flickering candlelight, his brow furrowing with a severe, almost comical intensity as he tried to figure out what the hell it said.

watching his fiercely focused expression over something so domestic, a soft, involuntary giggle bubbled up from your chest, breaking the heavy tension in the room.

daryl’s head snapped up. a deep flush bloomed across his cheeks and rushed down his neck. a rare, genuinely light smile tugged at the corner of his lips, softening the hard, gritty lines of his face in a way you'd almost never seen.

"quit," he muttered, his voice a quiet, embarrassed huff as he shook his head and looked your way, tossing the box aside into the blanket to grab a loose wrapper instead.

still kneeling over you with his boots dangling off the mattress, he reached down to his waist. he didn't take his jeans off entirely—he just popped the metal button, his belt buckle catching briefly on the quilt with a dull metallic clink as he violently jerked the heavy denim and his underwear down past his hips, keeping them bunched around his upper thighs so he wouldn't have to deal with kicking his heavy boots off. he tore open the foil wrapper with his teeth, his jaw tight and a lingering, fond warmth creeping up his neck as he fumbled to unroll the protection over his length, his breath hitching in a harsh rattle of pure concentration.

when he settled back between your legs, the weight of his heat pressing against your core, he paused one last time.

"get your legs 'round me," he commanded softly, the gravel in his voice dropping into a deep, possessive register. "hold on."

you instinctively brought your knees up, wrapping your thighs tightly around his thick waist. he let out a broken, tortured sound at the contact, his forehead dropping against your neck as he slowly, deliberately pushed himself inside you.

as he drove in deep, his large, heavy palm flattened right back over your lower tummy. he pushed down firmly against your stomach, anchoring your hips to the high mattress with a dominant pressure that forced you to feel the absolute fullness of him inside you. the hard, grounding weight of his hand against your abdomen sent an electric spike of pleasure straight to your core, making you gasp loudly against his shoulder.

the sudden, stretching fullness made your body stiffen under his weight. he forced himself into slower strokes for a minute, jaw tight with concentration, his frame tightened like iron, his hand still pressing firmly against your tummy. "hurt ya?" he choked out.

"no, no," you breathed, your hips making a small, upward adjustment against his palm to welcome him deeper. "don't stop. just stay still for a second."

he listened, suppressing every primal instinct inside him just to give your body time to adjust. only when you began to move against him in a slow, inviting rhythm, did he allow his hips to shift, beginning a deep, agonizingly deliberate pace, his palm keeping a steady pressure on your stomach with every stroke.

the friction built to a shattering crescendo. "fuck... please," you sobbed out, your head rolling back against the pillow as the wave of your release began to crest.

suddenly, a sharp, distinct *creak* echoed from the floorboards directly down the narrow corridor outside the bedroom. it wasn't an aimless scrape. it was a heavy shifting of weight inside the house.

daryl froze instantly, buried deep inside you. the weight of his body turned to solid stone, his chest completely still as he held his breath.

his head snapped toward the open bedroom door. before a panicked gasp could escape your wet lips, his large, rough palm collapsed firmly over your mouth, sealing it completely.

his other arm wrapped like a steel band around your waist, pinning your lower body flush against his hard hips, anchoring you so deeply beneath him that you couldn't move an inch.

"shut up," he breathed against the crown of your head.

the dynamic was instant, unexpected, and entirely intoxicating. the sheer force of his hand pressing you flat into the mattress while he remained buried inside you sent an electric shock straight to your system. blind panic and scorching arousal fused together.

desperate for an anchor, your hand flew upward, your fingers raking blindly against the dark mahogany headboard. your hand vanished against the wood, your fingers clamping tightly around a heavy wooden rosary that had been wrapped around one of the bedposts. you pulled on it with a wild, trembling force.

the old twine snapped.

the silence shattered as dozens of wooden beads spilled free, bouncing and rattling across the hardwood floorboards like a handful of gravel.

daryl’s eyes flared with a wild, dangerous heat. his grip on your mouth tightened, his jaw stone-rigid as he stared out into the pitch-black hallway, his ears straining so hard for any reaction to the noise that the veins on his neck were bulging. he held his lower body completely still inside yours, ensuring the old mattress springs didn't make a single peep.

beneath his heavy palm, your breath hitched sharply. the absolute vulnerability of the moment made your pulse race. your lips parted slightly against the calloused meat of his hand, tasting the faint salt of his skin, your hips hitching up involuntarily against his frozen length in a desperate, silent plea for him to move faster.

he felt the tight, twitching squeeze of your body around him. his eyes cracked down to yours, catching the wide, eager dark of your pupils. a sudden heat flared in his own chest. he didn't pull out; instead, he subtly leaned his hips harder into yours, a silent warning to stay still that only made the ache between your legs flare hotter.

another long silence stretched through the house.

a small, frantic scratching sound echoed from the kitchen down the hall, followed by the tiny thud of a raccoon dropping from a broken window pane.

a long, slow, chest-heaving breath finally escaped his lungs. the rigid, lethal tension in his shoulders eased. slowly, tentatively, his fingers slid away from your mouth. his rough thumb lingered on your lower lip, dragging across the wetness left by your breath, pressing down just hard enough to make you whimper in the quiet room.

his jaw flexed as he looked down at you, the dark heat in his eyes tightening. "told ya to stay quiet."

"no," you gasped out, your voice trembling as you arched up against his leg. "i need it. daryl, please."

his jaw flexed hard. “damn right,” he growled, the praise low, rough, and thick with his heavy accent.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his movements becoming rough, hurried, and fueled by a desperation he could no longer contain. he drove into you with a fierce, frantic urgency, his heavy denim bunched around his thighs as he anchored himself to you, his large hand pressing down hard against your tummy to drive himself as deep as possible. he hit your sweet spot again and again, his strokes heavy and relentless until you sobbed aloud against his neck, your body scrambling as the release finally broke over you. seeing the complete surrender in your eyes, he let out a broken, ruined sound as he came, the intense release racking his shoulders, his hips stuttering forward against yours as he spilled himself completely into the protection, holding you so tight against his chest you could barely draw a breath.

the silence of the room returned slowly, filled only by the frantic, synchronized rhythm of your heavy breathing and the quiet ticking of the candles on the nightstand. he didn't roll away immediately. he lay buried in your shoulder, his heart thumping hard against your ribs, his large hands still securely locked around your waist.

after a long, quiet moment, he carefully withdrew and disposed of the protection, finally working his clothes back up over his hips and buttoning them. before settling back down, he stood up on trembling legs, walking quietly to the window to peer through a slit in the lace curtains, scanning the overgrown yard one more time to ensure your safety.

satisfied, he returned to the bed and slid onto his side on the mattress, keeping you pulled securely against his chest. he reached down, pulling the dusty, faded quilt up over both of your flushed bodies, shielding you from the cooling air of the room, and reached out to adjust the pillow beneath your head.

his fingers gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his dark eyes, soft now, finally clear of the anxiety that had tortured him all day, searched yours in the fading candlelight. he shifted closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his rough, unshaven chin scraping lightly against your skin as he let his whole weight settle into your side. his thumb moved slow against your hip beneath the blanket while the old mattress creaked softly beneath the both of you. outside, the world still groaned and clawed at the fences, but in that small room, with his heartbeat steady against your chest, daryl was at peace.

[carnivorousbites]

Fucking take me out back and let me die happy with this being the last thing I read. (You know the fic is good when you end up like this)

[carnivorousbites]

𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖑’𝖘 𝕯𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕻𝕿 2

Probably thought I forgot about this. Nope I’ve been slowly working on it. My brain has just been consumed by the stripper reader x Daryl fanfic I’m making which hopefully will be out soon!

Part 1, Daryl’s POV

Smut ♥︎ MDNI 18+

TW: dry humping, masterbation. P in v smut, riding, praise.

🦷“Here put him in my room!” Your offer is automatic. Hershel shoots you a look but you ignore it as you slip by rushing up the stairs showing Rick to your room.

🦷Daryl, covered in dirt and bleeding from all parts of his body looks out of place in the soft colors, fluffy fabrics, and general coziness of your bedroom.

🦷You tend to Daryl every day. At first under the watchful eye of Hershel but eventually by yourself. Sit with him longer than most people. Watching with wide curious eyes because for the first time he isn’t filthy and he actually looks peaceful.

🦷Daryl who gets his wish. Waking up to your pretty face and soft touches. For a second he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. He stares at you like a newborn blinking stupidly. He watches as you continue to peel the bandage off of his side too engrossed with your task to notice that he’s conscious.

🦷 “How’d you die?” His voice is raspy from not using it, his head feels like cotton, Every part of his fucking body and head hurt like hell and yet all he can focus on is you.

🦷You freeze eyes snapping up, your breathing hitched and for a second there’s silence before you’re standing up moving faster than lightning towards your bedroom door screaming down the stairs. “DADDY COME QUICK! MAGGIE GET RICK! DARYL’S AWAKE!”

🦷You come running back to him the biggest smile on your face. Tears of joy pricking the corners of your eyes as you sink to your knees leaning against the bed. Your hand reaches out to tenderly touch his shoulder.

🦷Then he realizes he’s shirtless he immediately bristles. Shame, embarrassment, and fear fill him. Have you seen his back? He doesn’t want you to touch the raised skin. Doesn’t want to see the shocked look that turns into a sad sort of pity.

🦷 So he reacts. Reflexively pushing your hand away. “Stop fussin’ over me like a fuckin’ child.” The words are unnecessarily cruel and hit you deep. It’s ment to hurt. Ment to put you back at arms length where you’re safe. Safe from him.

🦷Daryl who watches your expression falter your hand freeze before you pull away. Before he gets the chance to explain the door bursts open and Rick, Glenn, Hershel, and Andrea all come in and you slip away.

🦷He doesn’t see you the rest of the day. Nor the next day. But he can’t escape you. He’s in your room after all. Whether he wants to or not he gets to know you.

🦷Gets to know you by the art of your walls, the trinkets on the shelves, the titles of the shitty romance books on your bedside table. At night he swears he can smell your shampoo on the pillow, hear your voice through the wind chimes, feel your skin against the cotton sheets.

🦷When you finally show up it’s with dinner. A bowl of soup and some bread. You move quickly, quietly, eyes downcast as you set down the tray. Turning to leave without so much as a glance or a word. The ache in his chest is unbearable. He can’t let you get away.

🦷Daryl who catches your wrist when you turn to leave. “Stay?” If you hadn’t held your breath you weren’t sure if you would’ve heard the plea. You swallow hard and nod.

🦷Daryl who finally works up the courage to kiss you. Soft, gentle, his hand carefully cradling the back of your head. His fingers tangle in your hair when you take control and deepen the kiss.

🦷 The kiss is anything but clean. Teeth and tongue. Whimpers and whines. Breathy moans between pants. When both finally come up for air you’re still connected by a string of saliva. Your lips are swollen bitten pink. He chews on his bottom lip nervously.

🦷 “shut the door.” You don’t have to be told twice. You nearly lose your footing as you scramble towards the door. Lifting the handle and moving it slowly in just the way that you know it won’t squeak.

🦷 “But your wounds!” You protest as one hand wraps around your wrist and the other grips your waist. You squeal as he hauls you into the bed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah wounds heal ‘n shit.” He grumbled as he hauls you up onto the bed. “Ain’t you ever heard of sexual healin’?”

🦷You hadn’t but Daryl was more than willing to teach you. His hands heavy on your waist as he helps you perch on top of him. Gently he pulls your hips forward before dragging them back. Guiding you into a clumsy rhythm.

🦷Your face flushes as you feel him harden under you. A needy whimper falling from your lips as you look down at him. Met with half lidded eyes and red tipped ears. You roll your hips experimentally. Rewarded by feeling his fingers press harder into your hips as he tries to restrain himself.

🦷Within minutes your panties are a sticky mess, Daryl is damn near whining underneath you his hips bucking up to meet the frantic little thrusts of your hips. You stead yourself on his chest desperate for more and Daryl is all too eager to comply.

🦷Both of you are out of clothes in a heart beat. Daryl’s hands trailing up your body. Quick possessive movements that cause goosebumps to rise to your skin. You sit perched slightly below his pelvis your mouth going dry when you see his cock.

🦷He can’t help but smirk watching your face flush. “Ya can touch it ya know.” He teases gently his hand wrapping around yours as he guides your trembling hand towards him.

🦷The moment he feels your fingers shyly wrap around his cock his brain short circuits. His cock twitches and you involuntarily tighten your grip. He can’t help but thrust upwards fucking into your hand.

🦷You who’s sat frozen watching mesmerized until you’re pulled back to the present by the pressure of his hand wrapping around yours. It’s a silent plea but you understand.

🦷You let Daryl teach you how to touch him. The rhythm, the slight twist of the wrist when you reach the tip, the way each stroke made his cock jump. A pearly bead of precum oozing out.

🦷The second Daryl trails his hand over your thighs. His fingers dipping down between your folds feeling how wet and warm you are he can’t help but push a finger in. The little gasp you give is so sweet.

🦷He knows he’s teasing you. With every swipe, every push, every curl of his finger your hand on his cock falters. When he slips a second finger in you abandon the rhythm all together chasing your own pleasure.

🦷Neither of you can take it anymore evident by Daryl’s red leaking cock and the sticky white fluids that cling to Daryl’s fingers, webbing as he pulls them apart. He greedily shoving the fingers in his mouth sucking them clean watching with hooded eyes how you stiffen.

🦷It was agonizing for both of you. A slow descent into madness as you lowered yourself inch by inch. The walls of your pussy fluttering as you adjusted to his size. “Just like that pretty. Fuck feel so good.” He’s panting trying his best to stay still but you make it so hard. His knuckles are white from how tight he’s holding onto you. Your palms press flat against the center of his chest as you try to steady yourself.

🦷When your pussy finally takes all of him you’re a mess. Your cheeks are red, mouth open as you try to catch your breath, your thighs are already trembling on either side of him from how full you feel. It’s too much and not enough all at once. “Fuck, you’re tight. Ya need to relax pretty.”

🦷Daryl who experimentally rolls his hips. His eyes never leaving your face watching as your face scrunches trying to adjust. Finally you start to relax your own body matching the tentative thrusts. You look so beautiful like this on top of him.

🦷 “M-more. Please more.” You moan out not entirely sure what you’re asking for but Daryl understands and he picks up the pace. The tip of his cock kissing your cervix as his hands pull you down to meet him. It’s heavenly and for once Daryl lets himself get lost in something he wants. Something he needs.

🦷Your pussy drools all over him with each bounce. His gaze trailing from your parted lips that he wants to push his fingers past. To the way your nipples are pebbled so perfectly he wants to sit up and suck one, abuse the flesh between his teeth just to see what sounds you make. Finally his gaze lands on where you two are connected.

🦷Slick and fluids a ring of creamy white forming around the base of his cock nearly causing him to cum. He picks up the pace sweat starting to form on his chest, his arms, down his neck as he moves you up and down along his length.

🦷 The way your pussy clenches around him. Wet, velvet walls that suck his cock right back. He’s fucking you deeply reaching places your fingers have never felt. The way you’re looking down at him face flushed, chest heaving, a deep rooted need on your face and Daryl is nothing if not a provider.

🦷 “I’ve got ya.” His voice is wrecked as he tries to reassure you. One of his hands finally releases your hip moving down over your tummy. His thumb pressing hard against your clit as he rubs little circles watching as your whole body reacts. Fighting off the inevitable.

🦷You fall first. A wail of pleasure passing through your lips as your head falls back. Your hips stutter but Daryl is there to catch you. Fucking you through your orgasm. One hand clamped on your waist the other has the rough pad of this thumb still working frantically over your clit. He feels you gush over him, his lap becoming wet with your release and that’s all it takes before the muscles low in his abdomen coil and snap.

🦷You both fall asleep entangled in the sheets. A mess of limbs curling around each other as Daryl keeps your face tucked against his chest. The moon moves across the sky and the birds slowly start to sing as the sun climbs in the sky. Neither of you hear the floor boards groan from down the hall. Neither of you stir when your door squeaks as it’s opened. Neither of you see the shocked expression of Maggie eyes widen, body tense, jaw dropped as she stares at you.

🦷What’s worse is neither of you see Hershel behind Maggie. His face flat, brows furrowed, his expression unreadable. A few seconds pass before he turns with swift steps leaving Maggie to quietly shut the door and deal with the fall out. A desperate attempt to give the two of you a few more moments of peace before all hell brakes loose.

[saifaq]

ну, почти традишка. почти

[carnivorousbites]

My American son :(

[slowpokegamer]

*looking at myself in the mirror*

Fanfiction is supposed to be cringy. You're allowed to write bad. You're allowed to be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be self indulgent. You're allowed to be cringe. Let yourself be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be fun. Stop putting arbitrary rules on yourself and be free.

[carnivorousbites]

Literally the whole reason I started this blog is because folks on tumblr are free in a way I crave.

[drizzledrawings]

Trigger warning: the walking dead enjoyer

[carnivorousbites]

In awe of this art style

[aronyflo]

[carnivorousbites]

Loml Michonne the woman that you are

[hollowhuntress]

ain’t right, wantin’ ya.

⌖part one⌖

daryl dixon x fem!reader

➶➴ summary: somewhere between meetings and stolen glances across the courtyard, daryl finds himself unravelin’ over a girl he knows he shouldn’t want.

➶➴ tags : nsfw/mdni/18+, prison era, slow burn, age gap, jealous daryl, protective daryl, mutual pining, forbidden romance, sexual tension, apocalypse romance, emotionally repressed daryl, inexperienced daryl / reader

wc : ~11.8k

the cellblock was quietest right before dawn, when the concrete floors held the night cold and the only sound was the rhythmic hum of walkers pressing against the outer fences. you slipped out of your cell with your boots in one hand, the stone biting into your socks, moving with the silence you’d perfected over the last four months.

every step felt heavy. it was a slow burn that had started with glances over the campfire and shifted into something suffocating. you found yourself tracking him across the courtyard during the day, caught by the authority of his movements, his knowledge of the woods, and the efficiency with which he moved through the prison. he was a survivalist in his prime, hardened and real.

and daryl, though he’d never admit it, watched how you navigated the place. he noticed the intelligence in your eyes and the grace you maintained despite everything. the years between you formed a dangerous friction—the world-weary tracker and the independent woman whose innocence he felt a fierce, desperate need to protect, even from himself. the unsaid thoughts of what it would be like to finally have your way with each other hung in the air like humidity.

you found him in a secluded corner of the catwalk, right by the broken emergency door that led to the observation tower. it was private up here, tucked away from the sightlines of the lower tier, where shadows swallowed everything. he was sitting on an upturned crate, a grease-stained rag in his hands as he meticulously cleaned the bolts of his crossbow. a beam of moonlight cut through a high, cracked window, illuminating the angles of his face, casting long shadows across the floor. he didn't look up right away, but the slight shifting of his shoulders told you he’d heard you three steps back.

"you’re late," he muttered, his voice a low rasp that barely carried past his collar.

"avoiding carl," you whispered back, sliding down the wall until you were sitting on the floor right beside his boots. "he was tossing and turning."

daryl didn't say anything to that. he just kept working the cloth against the metal, his knuckles scarred and dark with grease. but he shifted his leg slightly, just enough so that the rough denim of his jeans brushed against your bare knee. it was a tiny, imperceptible movement, but to you, it felt like a jolt of electricity.

this was how it had been for weeks—stolen moments in the shadows where nobody could ask questions. daryl was terrified of the group finding out. the thought of carl or glenn cracking jokes made his blood boil, but deeper than that, the years between you weighed heavily on his conscience. he was a weathered man who felt every year of his life in his aching joints, and he couldn't fathom the look on rick’s face if they were caught. he was supposed to be the muscle, the protector—not a man sneaking around corridors like a teenager.

"brought you this," you murmured, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small, bruised apple you'd saved from the ration stash.

he glanced down at it, his eyes softening beneath the fringe of his hair. "should've eaten that yourself," he said softly, his voice rough but gentle as he looked from the fruit up to your eyes.

"i wanted you to have it."

daryl set the crossbow bolt down, his calloused hand reaching out to take the fruit. his fingers brushed yours, lingering under the soft glow of the moon. his hand was rough, stained with oil and dirt, but his touch was incredibly gentle. for all his bluster, he was entirely out of his depth. he’d told you once, in a rare moment of late-night vulnerability, that his only past experiences were drunken, nameless hookups in dark dive bars before the world ended. he didn't know how to do this—how to be gentle, how to navigate actual intimacy. he was deeply embarrassed by his own awkwardness, terrified that his clumsy hands would scare you off.

tonight the tension finally spilled over. when he reached out to set the apple down on the crate, you leaned in, your hand coming up to rest on his inner thigh, letting him know exactly what you wanted.

daryl stiffened, his breath hitching sharply. "hey," he warned, though his voice lacked any real bite. "don't."

"daryl," you breathed, moving closer until you were kneeling between his legs, making it clear you weren't backing down. you looked up at him, eyes wide and eager. you leaned up, pressing your lips against the stubble of his jaw, tracing your fingers up his thick neck.

a low, tortured sound tore from his throat. he caught your wrists, his grip firm but careful not to hurt you. his restraint was a physical thing, his chest heaving under his vest, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles jumped.

"stop," he choked out, gently but firmly pushing you back by your shoulders. his breathing was ragged, his eyes dark with a wild heat. "i can't. not tonight. got an early run tomorrow. need my head straight."

the rejection stung sharply, a cold ache blooming in your chest that made your lip tremble. you nodded, pulling back, the sudden distance between your bodies feeling wider than an ocean. he looked at you, a flash of deep regret crossing his face, but he just gathered his crossbow, muttered a faint, "'get some sleep," and disappeared into the shadows of the lower block, leaving you cold in the moonlight.

the next morning, the heat on the road was brutal, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning inside daryl’s chest as he rode out on his own.

when he stopped to check a small cluster of houses, daryl slipped into an abandoned home, the air inside thick with dust and old memories. he stumbled into a dark, narrow hallway, away from the windows, his back hitting the wallpaper with a heavy thud. his breathing was already shallow. his fingers trembled against the button of his jeans—he was hesitant, even completely alone in the dark. a wave of familiar shame washed over him, the old habits of a lifetime telling him he didn't deserve this, that a man like him shouldn't be consumed by something so soft. he felt clumsy, awkward, and hyper-aware of his own boots on the floorboards.

but the ache was too deep. he unzipped his jeans, his rough hand sliding inside to grip himself, and the moment his skin made contact, his head fell back against the wall and his eyes closed.

he saw the way you had looked up at him on the catwalk, the precise way the moonlight had illuminated the curve of your throat and the neediness in your eyes. he remembered the pressure of your small hand resting high on his thigh. *“daryl,”* your voice echoed in his head, a breathless, eager prayer.

he began to move his hand, his stroke rough and hurried, fueled by a desperation he couldn't control. he imagined it was your hand instead of his own scarred knuckles. he pictured pushing your knees apart, burying his face in your neck, feeling your body shake under his weight. he choked out a broken, ragged breath in the empty hallway, his hips stuttering forward against his own hand as the friction built. with a final, deep, guttural growl that scraped against the walls of the house, he came, the intense release racking his large frame as he spilled against his fingers, thinking of your name and nothing else until his pulse finally began to slow.

panting heavily, he zipped up his jeans, his hands still trembling slightly as the adrenaline began to fade. his eyes adjusted back to the dim hallway, and suddenly, a cold dread pooled in his stomach. he looked down the corridor, his ears straining for any sound of shifting weight or dragging feet.

he hadn't even cleared the house first.

the realization made his stomach turn. he had walked into an unknown, unsearched structure in the middle of an apocalypse and immediately dropped his guard because he was too busy aching for a girl. if a walker had been lurking in the shadows of the kitchen, if a scavenger had been waiting in one of the rooms, he would’ve been caught completely defenseless. a wave of sharp, furious anger at himself crashed over him. he gripped the handle of his hunting knife, his knuckles white. he was supposed to be a survivalist, the one who kept his head on straight, but you were completely overriding his instincts.

pissed off at his own vulnerability, he began to aggressively clear the rest of the house to look for supplies, his legs still slightly heavy from the release. he realized the place was relatively untouched. walking down the narrow corridor, he pushed open the door to one of the bedrooms, and his breath caught in his throat.

the room had an antler mount secured to the wall, a delicate, dusty lace curtain draped over the tines. the bed and dresser set were made of a deep, heavy mahogany wood, the dark surfaces adorned with faded lace doilies and a cluster of burnt-down candles. the atmosphere was heavy, romantic, and completely frozen in time. daryl stared at the bed, his heart suddenly racing violently against his ribs. the thought of them being intimate here—of bringing you to this room, laying you down on that dark wood bed, and sharing that terrifyingly foreign intimacy for the very first time—made his blood run scorching hot.

he took a steadying breath, marking the location in his mind, and finally packed up his gear to head back.

when his motorcycle roared through the prison gates just before noon, he looked exhausted, his face caked in dust and sweat.

usually, daryl wouldn't even glance your way in public. he was a master at ignoring you, keeping his eyes locked on his boots or the horizon whenever anyone else was around. his eyes scanned the yard and locked right onto you.

you were standing by the garden beds, laughing. next to you was one of the newer arrivals from the woodbury group—a guy named zach, who was much closer to your age, clean-shaven, and entirely too charming. zach was leaning against a wooden post, flashing a bright grin as he handed you a basket of tomatoes, his hand lingering on yours just a second too long.

daryl’s entire demeanor shifted instantly. his jaw went completely rigid, the skin tightening across his cheekbones. his knuckles turned white as his grip on the motorcycle handlebars tightened so fiercely the metal looked ready to snap.

rick walked up to him, stopping him right there on his bike as the engine idled down. "good haul, daryl? think we should both hit up that pharmacy tomorrow?"

"no," daryl snapped, getting off the bike, his voice carrying a sharp edge that made rick lift his eyebrows in surprise. daryl shot the comment down quicker and meaner than he ever normally would, his eyes never leaving you and zach. "roads are blocked. ain't going back there. figure it out yourself."

you noticed. you noticed every single tense line of his body, the jealous fury radiating off him in waves. and instead of backing away, a small, wicked thrill flared up in your chest, a response to the pain of his rejection from the night before. you turned back to zach, tossing your hair over your shoulder, laughing a little louder at something he said, and leaning in just close enough to make it look intentional. from across the yard, daryl let out a sharp, angry breath, turned on his heel, and stormed into the cellblock without another word.

that night, there was no gentle waiting.

you were walking back from the washrooms in the dark when a heavy hand suddenly gripped your upper arm, pulling you backward into the shadows of a secluded, unused storage room under the stairs. the door slammed shut behind you, plunging you both into near-total darkness, saved only by the faint moonlight filtering through a high, barred window.

daryl pressed you flat against the concrete wall, his body crowding yours, hot and breathing hard. he looked furious, his eyes dark and dangerous.

"think you're real funny, don'tcha?" he growled, his voice a low, threatening hiss. "flirting around with that woodbury punk right in front of everybody. smiling at him. letting him touch ya. you think i'm blind? you think i'm just gonna sit back and watch you play games?"

he was lecturing you, his chest heaving against yours, but you weren't even listening to the words. your eyes were glued to his arms. the moonlight caught the sharp outline of his biceps, the thick, corded muscle flexing as he held his hands planted against the wall on either side of your head. you were completely daydreaming, your eyes wide as you stared at the sheer, masculine strength of him.

"are you even listenin’ to me?" he snapped, his voice dropping an octave, frustrated by your silence.

you didn't answer. you just reached up, your fingers wrapping around his thick biceps, feeling the hard, trembling muscle beneath the thin fabric of his sleeveless shirt, pulling him down toward you.

daryl froze, feeling the clear, unspoken invitation in your touch. the anger in his eyes suddenly melted into something much hotter, much hungrier. he let out a low, defeated growl, all his carefully built restraint snapping like a dry twig as he gave in to what you both wanted.

he lunged forward, slamming his mouth against yours.

it was messy, sloppy, and completely uncoordinated, but filled with a desperate, crushing passion. his lips were rough and chapped, tasting of iron and salt, crashing against yours with an urgency that made your head spin. it was so new to him, so entirely foreign, but the overwhelming need to claim his girl—to completely wash the memory of that other man out of your mind—drove him forward.

the thought of zach touching you flashed through his mind again, and daryl let out a deep, possessive sound. his hand flew down, his large, rough palm gripping your ass firmly, squeezing tight through your jeans.

you gasped into the kiss, the sudden heat of his touch sending a shiver straight down your spine.

before you could even process it, daryl hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly off the floor, slamming you back against the concrete wall. you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, burying your hands in his messy hair as his mouth continued to devour yours, deeper and harder than before.

he pulled back just an inch, his hot breath fanning across your wet lips, his nose brushing yours in the dark.

"i've never done this," you timidly admitted, your voice trembling, breathless and small against the massive expanse of his chest.

the words hit him like a physical blow. the heat inside him surged, but the sheer gravity of your confession, combined with the ghost of his own insecurities, made him freeze. his chest wound tighter, a fierce, protective, and completely possessive ache expanding in his lungs. he groaned deeper, a low, guttural vibration that rumbled against your ribs as he pressed his forehead against yours, his grip on you tightening until there was absolutely no space left between you.

he couldn't do this here. not in a dusty, cramped storage closet where anyone could walk past, not for your first time. you deserved more than a dark corner of a prison. his mind flashed instantly back to the mahogany bed, the lace curtains over the antlers, and the quiet sanctity of the house from his run.

slowly, with immense effort, daryl let your feet slide back down to the cold concrete floor, though he kept his hands firmly on your hips, anchoring you to him. his eyes were dark, serious, and entirely focused on yours.

he cleared his throat, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that barely cut through the quiet of the room.

"ain't doin' this here," he muttered, his thumb digging rough into your hip, pressing just hard enough to make you ache. "found a place out on the road today. clean. got a real bed... whole thing. i'm takin' you out there tomorrow. just us. away from the rest of 'em."

he stopped, his chest heaving against yours, his mind racing as he sorted through the logistics, his gaze dark and completely fixed on your face.

"rick wants me to check out a pharmacy tomorrow," he continued, the gravel in his voice dropping to a harsh whisper against your ear. "i'll tell 'em i need another set of eyes. tell 'em i'm takin' you."

he shifted his weight, crowding you back against the wall, his jaw tightening as the reality of the prison and the group's watchful eyes settled back over him.

"we ain't even talked to each other before. not in front of 'em," he muttered, his voice rough and tight with a sharp edge. "gotta look right. can't have 'em lookin' at us funny."

he looked down at you, his thumb dragging heavy over your skin one last time before his hands finally dropped from your waist, leaving a lingering, burning cold where his palms had just been.

"i'll fix it," daryl muttered, his dark eyes boring into yours in the moonlight. "just meet me outside at noon. we're goin'."

when daryl let you go and slipped back out into the corridor, the sudden lack of his heat left you shivering in the dark closet. you waited a full five minutes, listening to the silence of the prison, before you crept back to your own cell tier.

but sleep wouldn't come. for both of you, the night became a long, agonizing torment of tossing and turning against thin mattresses and coarse blankets. lines were crossed, promises were made, and the sheer gravity of what was going to happen at noon hung over the dark prison like a heavy weight.

out in the courtyard, daryl lay flat on his back on his cot in the open cellblock common area, completely refusing to lock himself inside one of those iron cages like a trapped animal. he wasn't a prisoner, and he sure as hell wasn't going to sleep behind bars. but the open air didn't bring him any peace tonight. his skin felt too tight for his body. every time he closed his eyes, he felt the heavy press of your thighs wrapped around his waist, the wet, desperate slickness of your mouth against his lips. he rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in his leather vest, growling low into his thin pillow.

inside the cellblock tier, you were suffering through the exact same haunting. the air in your cell felt thick, suffocatingly hot, and your skin was absolutely on fire. you rolled from your side to your back, pulling the blanket up, then kicking it off, utterly consumed by the memory of his rough, calloused hands lifting you against the wall. you could still feel the phantom imprint of his large palm squeezing your ass, the weight of his chest crushing your breasts.

the ache became too much, a heavy throbbing between your legs that demanded to be answered.

your fingers trembled against the button of your jeans—you were hesitant, even completely alone in the dark privacy of your cell. a wave of familiar, nervous heat washed over you, your heart hammering hard against your ribs as you slid your hand down into your underwear. the moment your skin made contact, your head fell back against the thin pillow and your eyes clamped shut.

you saw the way he had looked down at you in the closet, the precise way the moonlight had caught the sharp outline of his biceps, the thick, corded muscle flexing as he pinned you to the concrete. you remembered the exact gravelly timbre of his voice rasping against your ear, claiming you, promising that bedroom out on the road. *“i’m takin' you out there tomorrow... just us.”* his words echoed in your head.

you began to move your fingers, your stroke hurried and frantic, fueled by a desperation you couldn't control. you imagined it was his hand instead of your own—imagined his scarred, rough knuckles parting you, his heavy boots on the floorboards as he took exactly what he wanted. the thought of his world-weary experience, his absolute power over you, and the intoxicating weight of the years between you made your blood run like liquid fire. you choked out a broken, ragged breath into the empty cell, your hips stuttering upward against your own hand as the friction built. with a final, deep, breathless gasp that barely escaped your lips, you came, the intense release racking your frame as you spilled against your fingers, thinking of his name and nothing else until your pulse finally began to slow.

daryl was up long before the first light of dawn cracked over the trees, slipping off his cot before the rest of the prison even stirred. the nerves inside him were a living thing, clawing at his throat, making him hyper-aware of his own rough edges. he wanted this to be good for you. he wanted it to be right, and the sheer weight of his own anxiety was driving him crazy. he was completely terrified of his own clumsy hands, of the dirt caked under his fingernails, of looking like the unwashed drift-away he always felt he was.

down in the quiet, damp washhouse, daryl did something he hadn't done in months: he tried to groom himself. he found a small, ragged piece of lye soap and a bucket of cold water, giving himself a meticulous sponge bath. he scrubbed the sweat, dried blood, and road grit from his neck, his chest, and his arms, rubbing until his skin was raw and red from the friction. he even found a discarded toothbrush and vigorously brushed his teeth, spitting into the rusty drain, trying desperately to mask the stale scent of tobacco and grease. when he leaned into the cracked mirror, he still looked filthy—the dark circles under his eyes were prominent from lack of sleep, his hair was still a messy, greasy fringe, and the permanent oil under his fingernails wouldn't budge—but he had tried. he had tried harder than he ever had in his life, his heart thumping hard against his ribs as he checked the sun’s position through the high windows.

it was a little before noon when daryl finally spotted rick near the guard tower, leaning against the chain-link fence with a clipboard in hand, checking over the watch schedule. daryl cleared his throat, his heavy boots kicking at the gravel as he approached, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets to hide the slight tremor in his fingers.

"rick," daryl muttered, his voice a low, gravelly scrape that carried an unnatural stiffness.

rick looked up, squinting through the midday heat. his blue eyes scanned daryl’s uncharacteristically scrubbed neck, tracking the tight, defensive line of the tracker's shoulders. "hey. you look over the map?"

daryl swallowed hard, his throat entirely dry. the lie was sitting heavy in his chest, and just saying it aloud made his lungs tighten up so fierce he could barely draw a proper breath. "yeah. looked at it. small place. easy enough. thought... thought i'd take the girl with me. train her up."

rick shifted his weight, his brow furrowing as he fixed daryl with a sharp, calculating stare. the clipboard went completely still against his thigh. "the girl? daryl, yesterday you threw a fit when i suggested the pharmacy. said the roads were blocked, told me to figure it out myself. now you're headin' right out there?"

daryl's jaw went stone-rigid. his eyes darted away, his boots grinding a piece of gravel into the dirt. "found a bypass," he muttered, his voice tight, scraping out of his throat like rusted iron. "cut across the old logging trail behind the ridge. thinkin’ the bike'll squeeze through just fine. ain't gonna waste the trip."

rick didn't look entirely convinced. his eyes narrowed, lingering on the way daryl's knuckles were whitening inside his pockets. "and you're taking her? she hasn't been out on a run like that. it's risky. we usually keep the newer folks in the yard for a bit."

"she came to me," daryl lied, the words cutting right through his chest, making his pulse hammer. saying it out loud—putting the image of you approaching him into rick's head—made his throat close up. "asking for more experience. sayin' she wants to learn how to track, how to hold her own out there. figure it's a good time to get more people trained up. pharmacy run's light. clear it out, get the stuff, come back. i'll keep her behind me. she'll be fine."

rick stood in silence for a long, agonizing moment, his gaze boring right into daryl's face, searching for whatever was making his most reliable tracker look so completely unraveled. daryl’s front was slipping bad; his posture was wound up like a tight spring, his breathing shallow. he felt entirely naked under rick's stare, terrified that his leader could see right through the story, straight to the memory of the dark closet and your hands on his skin.

ultimately, rick sighed, though the suspicion never quite left his eyes. he tapped the clipboard against his thigh. "alright. if she came to you and you think she's ready to learn. but keep your eyes open, daryl. don't let her out of your sight."

by this point, you were already heading their direction across the hot gravel courtyard. daryl’s chest caught sharply as he saw your figure cutting through the midday haze, stepping right into the space between them.

rick turned back to daryl, handing him a folded piece of paper from the clipboard. "here's the list of medications hershel needs. prenatal vitamins for lori, antibiotics, whatever's left on the shelves. make sure you bring it all back."

daryl snatched the paper, shoving it deep into his vest pocket without a word, his mind entirely short-circuiting as you stepped up to them. he felt the panic and heat radiating off his own skin, convinced rick could see the phantom sweat of his nerves.

but the moment you arrived, you put on a perfect front. you looked at rick with an expression of quiet, eager readiness, your voice steady, professional, and entirely regular as you greeted him. you flawlessly covered up for the crumbling composure daryl was struggling to hold onto, keeping your eyes entirely off his freshly washed neck and tense jaw.

"ready when you are, daryl," you said smoothly, your face completely blank of the dark heat from the night before.

"yeah," daryl muttered, his voice a rough, tight bark as he turned on his heel to avoid rick's lingering, heavy stare. "let's go."

he walked over to his motorcycle, his heavy boots crushing the gravel. he kicked the starter, and the engine roared to life with a loud, vibrating rumble that shook the hot air around the courtyard. he swung his leg over the seat, his back broad and tense, his vest straining against the corded muscle of his shoulders.

you walked up behind him and hopped on the bike, sliding your legs onto the pegs.

the moment your body made contact with the machine, the deep, heavy vibration of the engine sent a sudden shockwave of sparks straight through your body, pooling instantly into the ache you’d been nursing all night in your cell. you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his thick waist, your chest pressing flush against the hard, weathered expanse of his back.

the close proximity was utterly intoxicating. daryl stiffened the second your hands locked over his stomach, his breathing hitching sharply above the roar of the exhaust. he could smell the clean scent of your skin, and you could smell the sharp, deliberate scent of the soap he’d used to clean himself up for you, mixed with the familiar, heavy tang of leather and motor oil. his large frame was entirely rigid, but he didn't pull away. instead, he twisted the throttle hard, the motorcycle lurching forward through the opening prison gates, carrying you both out onto the empty, sun-baked road toward the pharmacy.

⌖part two will be posted on 5/27⌖

[carnivorousbites]

Fic made me so feral I had to take a fucking lap.

[drizzledrawings]

Bros of all time

[carnivorousbites]

My boys ♥️

[carnivorousbites]

𝕭𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕸𝖊

Based off of this follow up request.

Prologue

MDNI, 18+ pls and thank you Smut ♥︎

WC: 3,213

Y’all I’m way happier with how this turned out. But I’m most excited for the final part of this series. Enjoy

TW: biting, marking, smut p in v, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, pet names, blood, unprotected sex

“What crawled up your ass?” Maggie’s voice cuts through the haze of anger clouding your brain. You normally were pretty good at keeping a straight face but not today. You had been walking towards the main cell block when you noticed it. Out by the fence there was a new crew from Woodbury training with Rick and Daryl. Basic self defense, showing them how to keep the fence clear with a little bit of gun safety mixed in. That wasn’t what bothered you. What bothered you was the fact that one of the new comers couldn’t seem to keep her fucking hands off Daryl.

At first it wasn’t an issue just some simple touches, help on how to hold and position the knife. You paused watching how Daryl stood his arms poised, each muscle defined, and you couldn’t stop the way your stomach flips and how heat curls low in your stomach. Your gaze moves traveling to the group only to notice that one of the women. She has a soft flush to her face and you know it’s not due to the Georgia sun.

You narrow your eyes, Tash if you remembered her name correctly, seemed less like she was paying attention to Daryl’s directions and more like she was gauking at your…. Well in all honesty you weren’t sure what you and Daryl were.

Sure you both had started as strangers who butted heads, that formed into a reluctant friendship, and after things settled slightly you both found comfort in one another. Then you had bitten him and everything changed. You both shared a secret which planted a seed of trust that flourished. It eventually led to the two of you fooling around. Both a way to pass the time but to also explore this weird little kink that you both shared without the judgement of others. It wasn’t like Daryl was your boyfriend or anything but he for sure wasn’t just your friend.

“Nothing, I’m just watching the newbies try to figure out how to fight.” You say without looking away. Maggie shifts her hip jutting out as she scans the group. She follows your gaze landing on Tash and Daryl and a knowing smirk crosses her face. “Really just watching the newbies? Or are you just watching Daryl?” Her gentle teasing causes you to look down. A lump forming in your throat as you shrug not willing to admit that you’re jealous over a man who isn’t even officially yours. Just as you were about to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling that bubbled in your gut you saw it. Tash’s well manicured hand running up his arm pausing on the bicep to give it a light squeeze.

Your jaw drops, eyes damn near bugging out of your head. You hear Maggie let out a small gasp of surprise at the woman’s boldness. “There’s no fucking way she just did that.” Maggie’s voice is breathy full of disbelief as if what she was witnessing was a dream. You don’t look away your eyes locked on Daryl who just tilts his head listening to whatever she has to say and the fact that he seems completely unbothered by the fact that Tash’s hand is trailing down his arm.

“Tell me that this is a joke.” You grumble trying to calm yourself looking over at Rick in hopes that he’ll step in. Instead of the reassurance you were looking for Rick’s also staring at Daryl brows furrowed as if he’s trying to process what’s happening. “Why isn’t he pulling away?” You’re not expecting Maggie to answer as you both stare. Several minutes pass and you start to calm down as the group switches over to the guns Rick brought down.

Just as you think that it couldn’t get any worse you see Tash holding the gun and Daryl shake his head before moving up snugly behind her. His hand wrapping around her wrist as he helps her steady the gun. Anger rises in you, uncontrollable and all consuming. You’re stomping down the hill towards the group before you process Maggie calling after you. You don’t care that the entire training group has stopped, don’t care that you have other things to do today, don’t care at the way Rick’s lips twitch as suppresses a smile as you stake your claim.

What you do care about is how Tash’s eyes widen. She steps forward creating space between herself and Daryl as you approach. It would have been satisfying if Daryl hadn’t been looking at you with pure confusion on his face. It only served to flame the fire of jealousy that consumed you. “Rick, I need Daryl. You good to manage the rest of this on your own?” You phrase it as a question but it’s anything but one. You don’t even wait before you grab Daryl’s wrist tugging hard as you whip around pulling him after you. He stumbles after you a grunt of surprise falling from his lips. The grass and weeds are smashed under your heavy foot falls as you drag Daryl away.

You drag him through the cell block, head bowed, mind racing. At a glance you just seem pissed, irritated, maybe even a bit embarrassed. It wasn’t uncommon that you’d turn to Daryl for help. But to those who knew the two of you a bit better it was clear that things were coming to a head. They saw the way Daryl slunk into your cell at night, saw the bite marks that multipled across his skin, and witnessed the way you both clung to one another in a way that was almost primitive. You didn’t stop until you were safely tucked into your cell. The blanket drawn across the barred door to give you the illusion of privacy. You immediately drop his wrist whipping around stepping into his personal space.

“What the hell was that?” You hiss tilting your head back to glare up at him. Daryl’s brows furrow, eye twitches, his jaw sets in annoyance as he looks down at you. He doesn’t back up, no he stays right where he is letting you posture at him. A failed attempt at intimidation that he swiftly and silently calls out. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” His voice is firm not a single hint of playfulness in his tone. It only angers you further. He may be dense but he’s not dumb. You’re not entirely sure of his past sexual history before meeting you but you refuse to believe that he was oblivious to what had happened out in the field.

You scoff not caring that your shoulder bumps into Daryl’s chest as you turn putting a bit of space between the two of you. “Really Daryl? You really have no idea on why I’m upset?” Your voice is flat expecting him to at least have the decency to be honest with you. As you wait for an answer your mind moves a mile a minute. Insidious thoughts of him leaving you behind, not speaking to you again, or worse saying it wasn’t a big deal fill your head causing your heart to slam in your chest. But he doesn’t snap back, instead he shakes his head. “Nah I told ya I don’t know what I did.”

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you. I don’t know what I did. His words bounce around in your head as you stare at him, slowly the fight drains out of you as you mull it over. What I did. A lump forms in your throat as you try to swallow. “You really have no idea why I’m upset?” You hate the way your voice cracks when you ask. Embarrassment coloring your cheeks forcing you to look away. You hear him move towards you, see the shadow that falls over you, feel the way he gently cups your jaw to coax you into looking at him. He’s soft for you, with you, around you. It’s not a conscious decision just something that happens naturally.

“Ya gonna tell me or am I gonna have to guess?” His voice is soft a hint of humor that’s so distinctly Daryl you can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. “Tash…” you start unsure of how to admit your jealousy when you see a look of pure confusion cross Daryl’s face. “Who?” Now that makes you laugh. Whether it’s at yourself for being so possessive or at him for genuinely being so clueless you’re not sure. “That girl that was basically drooling over you. You know the one you were helping with aiming the gun.” Daryl snorts “droolin’ over me? She was just askin’ for help.” You can’t stop the groan that leaves you pushing him slightly as you pace. Trying to relieve some of the frustration that creeps back over you. “Dixon, come on. You can’t be that dense it was so obvious that she was hoping you’d take her for a ride, and I’m not talking about on your motorcycle.” Now it’s his turn to laugh as he shakes his head. “Nah ‘s all in your head baby.”

That did it. If he wasn’t going to listen you were just going to have to show him. Without another word you step forward, your whole demeanor softening as you crowd him. “Oh, you’re so right. I must have been imagining everything.” Your voice is gentle as you bat your lashes. “Thanks Daryl.” Your voice is a breathy whisper as you bring your hand up running it over the sunkissed skin. Your nails lightly raking over his forearm. You can’t stop the smug smirk that flashes across your face as you see goosebumps erupt across his arm. Your movement settles, hand resting on his bicep. “I appreciate the help.” As you speak you give the muscle a squeeze, tilting your head slightly as you smile at him.

The air is thick as the tension shifts to one of desire. Daryl’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. His pupils have dilated blown out so wide that the blue of his eye is nearly nonexistent. The flush that creeps up his neck past the vest coloring his ears and cheeks as he clears his throat. “Oh.” That’s all he can say because what the fuck else is he supposed to say? His brain was short circuiting trying to connect the dots and suddenly it all made sense

“You’re jealous.” It’s a statement and the way you recoil he knows he struck a nerve. Daryl steps forward watching as you take one backwards. “My pretty girl ‘s all jealous, worked up ‘cause someone made a pass at me. That it sweetheart?” He hums enjoying the deep flush of your embarrassment as he continues to push forward. He doesn’t stop until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. He watches you wobble before stabilizing yourself. “Well why don’t I put your mind at ease?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he lightly pushes you watching as you land on the bed with a little bounce. He sinks to the ground hands shooting out to grab your calves pulling you towards him. He makes quick work of your shoes and shorts. Chapped lips press a simple kiss against your knee, moving to place an identical kiss on the other side. There’s a pause before you feel the scratch of his facial hair against your inner leg as he continues to press kisses along your skin the softness is a dizzying contrast to the tight grip he has on your calves.

His tongue moves up the inside of your thigh causing you to shiver at the sensation when suddenly your small subtle puffs of pleasure turned into a shriek of surprise and pinching pain. As you bolt upright you look down and the man between your legs. Daryl stares up at you, pupils blown wide, his lips shiny from his saliva, his cheek pressed up against the plushness of your thigh. The tender flesh blooming pink from where he sunk his teeth into you. “What ‘m not allowed to bite ya back?”

You try to snap your thighs closed but he doesn’t let you. His rough hands travel up your legs letting your calves go so he can grab at the fat of your thighs keeping you spread for him. He tsks gently under his breath as he squeezes you. The skin of your inner thighs is so soft compared to his callous skin. It makes him shiver turning his cheek into you as he gently bites down. Pulling away licking the indentation and pressing one last final kiss against your skin before he adjusts his grip. Dragging you to the edge of the bed as he presses forward his tongue lapping at your cunt. “We just started and you’re already this wet?” His chuckle vibrating through you as he continues to push his tongue deeper into you. The wet slippery intrusion of his tongue making you moan softly that is until he pulls out and attaches his mouth to your clit.

The gasp that is ripped from you makes him dizzy. Alternating between little licks and suckling at your clit. The prickly texture of his facial hair adding to your overwhelming pleasure as your hands tangle in his hair pulling hard. He lets go of one of your thighs his head coming up. You whine at the loss of sensations. Daryl quickly shuts you up shoving his arm into your open mouth.

“Bite.” It’s all he has to say before you’re clamping down on the salty skin of his arm a grunt of pain ripped from him as your teeth puncture through the flesh. The warm taste of iron starts to trickle into your mouth and you’re not sure if you want to escape or fall deeper into the feeling but just as you start to come back to reality he pushes two thick fingers into you. Pushing deeper than his tongue could reach. He’s watching how you react to his touches. “Ya gonna cum for me baby?” His voice is strained, lower than usual and full of a hunger that makes your toes curl.

He pushes his arm deeper into your mouth causing your jaw to stretch and you let go. A whimper of protest falling from you as you see the small trickle of blood drip down his arm. His eyes usually so bright are dark with desire watches as he curls his fingers deep into you. Pressing against that spongey spot that has your back arching off the bed as your hands scramble against the sheets for purchase.

“Daryl!” Your whiny voice is music to his ears encouraging him to press further. He wants to watch you come undone around his fingers on, on his face. His head dips back down his tongue pressing against your dripping folds. His nose bumping against your clit causing you to kick out. He can tell you’re overstimulated. Too many feelings and sensations at once so he pulls back, but not before licking a broad stripe up your slit. He hums gently savoring the taste of you on his tongue.

He flicks over your swollen clit and you feel yourself trying to pull away. Your chest heaves as you fight against his hands desperate to lock your legs around his neck. “Daryl enough please! Just fuck me!” Your begging plea for release causes him to smirk as he pulls back. “Course sweetheart. All ya had to do was ask.” You don’t get to reply before he’s on top of you. Kicking away his pants your hands flying up to hastily unbutton his vest, he gently pulls you up so he can pull your shirt off. He’s got you laying on the bed spread naked before him as he leans down. You taste yourself on his tongue as he devours you. You can’t help yourself but bite down on his lip and he lets out a breathy moan as you pull away.

He presses his cock into you. Slow, teasing, maddening in a way you’ve never felt before and you tangle your hands at the hair on the base of his neck trying to ground yourself. Your mouth attaches to his neck. Teeth and tongue attacking the flesh. New wounds appear raw and red only to be soothed by soft kisses and kitten licks. It’s a poor attempt to silence the moans of pleasure that are being pulling out of you. No doubt echoing through the concrete halls of the prison but you don’t care. Daryl’s hips which were originally rolling against you in a slow lazy rhythm picks up speed. His cock dragging against your walls causing him to groan and mumble soft praises against your skin as he buries his face in your neck. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know he’s close. You can tell it in the way his hips falter, his breathing becomes erratic, and instead of going in for a kiss you mirror his position as you press your face against the juncture between his shoulder and neck and bite as hard as you can.

You faintly hear Daryl’s cry of pleasure boarding on pain, the blood rushing in your ears as you finally let yourself go. At the same time Daryl thrusts into you one last time. Completely sheathing himself inside of you as he feels his cock twitch and balls tighten. It’s too late to pull out so he tries not to think about the potential consequences of his actions and just lets go. Your cunt clamping down around his cock milking him dry as he fills you up. You both are wet with sweat, blood, and fluids when you eventually pull away.

“Fuck woman, should get ya jealous more often.” He hums gathering you against his chest when you swat at him attempting to get away. You let him hold you, let him nuzzle his face into your hair breathing the scent of you in deeply. Eventually you both fall asleep entangled and satisfied. The next day nobody mentions the moans they heard echoing down the hall. Only Hershel raises an eyebrow at Daryl when he comes strolling into the common space asking to be patched up. “What happened to you son?” Hershel asks as he gently hands Daryl a few basic medical supplies. His gaze falls to Daryl’s arm. “Almost looks like you’ve been bit.” Daryl snorts giving Hershel a pat on the back as he stands “Ya could say that. Ain’t nothin’ to worry ‘bout. Wasn’t no Walker.” That got Maggie and Rick’s attention both their heads snapping around as they both put the pieces of the puzzle together in their heads. Maggie stifled a giggle and Rick rolled his eyes but Daryl didn’t pay them any mind. Didn’t pay Tash any mind either when he walked past her. His mouth twitching into a smile when he saw her expression shift from happy to horrified as her gaze dropped to his arm. A lovely patchwork of bite marks covering his biceps.