❜ 𝓚𝐈𝐒𝐒, 𝓚𝐈𝐒𝐒, 𝓚𝑰𝑺𝑺 ★
pairing 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 & fem!reader !
c.w ⠀ⵗ⠀ heavy make out session , semi-public , sexual tension , risk of getting caught , suggestive content , grinding , groping w.c : 0.7k
notes ꗃ i’m in love with this scenario. ( wrote it in my notebook at college lol )
daryl is the worst person to be making out with in a place where you could easily get caught. not because he’s bad at it —quite the opposite— but because he is always too fucking paranoid. that man hears a leaf crunch from two blocks away and he’s already jerking back from your lips, muttering “someone’s comin’, hold on,” even though literally nobody is coming. and it’s because he’s spent his whole entire life hiding —from his father, from walkers, from danger, from people, from being seen— that the simple thought of being caught while being so intimately loving with his girl makes him flinch.
but now he’s got you pinned against the supply closet door in the armory hallway, kissing you like a starving man, fighting the urge to devour you whole, though every couple of seconds he stiffens like a spooked animal because “what if rick comes lookin’ f’ me” or “carol’s prolly nearby,” as if carol hasn’t already accepted she’ll find the two of you tangled together in your own mess eventually.
but the thing is, when he does kiss you? when he remembers nobody is around and the doors are shut and it’s just his breath mixing with yours? something snaps loose in him. his mouth gets rougher, hungrier. he cups your jaw and suddenly he’s kissing you with that messy desperation of his. and oh, he’s so painfully aware of the sounds he makes—the low little grunts he doesn’t realize slip out when your teeth catch his lip, the way his breathing goes ragged when your fingers slide under his vest, the way he sights when his tongue meets yours. he hates that anyone could hear it, and hates even more how you make him lose control enough that he can’t stay quiet. he’s always been loud in fights but quiet in wanting —almost afraid of it— affection is foreign to him, intimacy even more so; and when you get needy like this, he really, really needs privacy.
meanwhile, he’s all awkward and hesitant until you tug him closer by the collar of his shirt. from then on, his restraint just breaks—he presses his hips into yours without meaning to, swallows your gasps with lots of kisses, and lets his calloused hands slide down to your waist in his clumsy, greedy way. and in his desperate frenzy, you’ll feel his fingers shake the moment he grips your thigh to lift it around his hip. the reason? he’s never had someone let him touch them like this—slow and deliberate. wanted. not some bar hookup merle shoved him toward. not some body he didn’t even remember the name of. this is you. soft and warm and real and actually wanting him.
and then there’s the way the risk messes him up. he’ll pant against your mouth: “we shouldn’t… fuck, we shouldn’t be doin’ this here,” but he’s already sliding his hand up under your shirt, rough fingertips tracing your ribs like he’s memorizing you. he says you should stop, but his thumb is brushing the underside of your breast, and he’s groaning quietly when you roll your hips against him. he buries his face in your neck, breathing you in with this shaky exhale like he’s been deprived of this kind of touch his whole damn life. he kisses down your throat, slow and messy, leaving warm, damp little trails that make your knees go weak, and every time you make the tiniest sound he shudders with pleasure.
and just like that he’s all calloused hands gripping your waist too tight, rough breathing against your skin, and soft noises he’s embarrassed to make but can’t swallow down. he keeps whispering “we gotta stop,” even as he grinds against you, even as his mouth finds yours again with more hunger than before, even as he bites your lip and pulls back just to see the way you look at him. and he hates himself for wanting it so bad, for wanting you so bad, but the second you whisper his name he’s kissing you again like he hasn’t tasted anyone in years—because he hasn’t. because he’s been starving. because you’re the first thing he’s ever let himself have without feeling like he’s stealing it.
and even though every instinct tells him someone could open that hallway door and see the two of you flushed and pressed together, he still keeps coming back to your mouth like an addict.
© written by ﹫ 𝐯𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 !
𓂁 looking for .ᐣ navigation⠀ⵗ⠀mlist⠀ⵗ⠀taglist⠀ⵗ⠀rules ᰋ ׅ
