Hoooooooleeeeeey ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙ "thought I Wasn't Gonna Do Anything?" Yhnnnnnhssjsjsjwksksk

Why is the "I accidentally took a sex drug and desperately need your help" plot so hot and why is there not something in real life

Cause how am I going to implement this in the walking dead universe they don't have potions or spells or mad scientists like resident evil? And how would I get Daryl of all people to be exposed to sex drug ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ

It is time for spooky Halloween themed Daryl. I am taking this man trick or treating. The treats are blow jobs

hai I saw ur taking requests an was wondering if you could do something with season one daryl? where the reader used to know merle before the outbreak and merle tries to set you up with daryl? so his “baby brother” can finally lose his v card? thank you so much if you do xD

Yes! Got this a while ago so will probably wrap it up tonight or tomorrow.

HEATHERMASON6060!!!!!!! YOUR AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED FIC WAS FREAK NASTAY IN THE BEST WAY WOWOWOWOWOWOWOW 😵‍💫👏👏

FUCK YEAH!!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!! I LOVE FREAK NASTAY

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

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

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

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

It was an unusually cool day. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We'll figure it out.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked away, your heart dropping at his words. 

“Can't stop thinking about it.” 

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked at your face then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you have a girlfriend?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“G’night.” He muttered between swigs.

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

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

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

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

From Lori. Use these next time. -Maggie

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

SHANE JUMPSCAPRE

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

SEX EDUCATION

re2!leon kennedy x afab!reader // 2.5k words

summary: You tell him that you need to practice a certain set of skills, and he's more than happy to oblige. His lack of experience is simply a... bonus of the arrangement.

warnings: 18+ only. heavy corruption and praise kink. reader is a weirdo but everything is explicity consensual.

+

You sink to your knees before the couch, between the wide spread of Leon's legs, and a ruddy blush blooms out along his cheeks. Timid and tender, the color of ripe cherries painted beneath the skin. You know he would taste just as sweet.

“You've really never done this before?” you ask, question absent of accusation, fingers massaging his upper thighs through the fabric of his jeans. A simple up and down, thumbs digging into the muscle.

He shakes his head, eyes glassy and reverent, hands white-knuckling the edge of the cushion. Hasn't even pulled his cock out and he's already trembling, hips twitching when your touch wanders too close to the crease of his thighs. You do it on purpose, again and again, just to watch him squirm.

The rush of power triggers something dark and miasmic inside your brain. A lurking, infectious thing with its heart set on ruining the man before you, feeding on his innocence. It opens its maw and gnashes its teeth as you palm him through his unzipped pants, mouth watering at the hardness beneath your teasing fingers.

(”You've done more than I have,” he huffs, pointedly ignoring the weight of your curious gaze. “Not sure if dry humping on your girlfriend's couch even counts.”)

Poor, needy thing.

You've had this sickness in your gut for a while, an infectious miasma that grew and grew alongside your relationship with Leon. An infatuation years in the making, brought to climax when you shared your troubles regarding a non-existent sex life.

He gasps a stuttering breath, eyes fluttering shut when you slip a hand beneath his underwear. Already, the tip slicks wet with precum. Twitches heavy against your hand, seeking, a primal plea rooted deep in his DNA.

(”Haven't sucked a dick in so long I think I've forgotten how.” Catalystic words, grumbled on the same couch he's spread out on. A simple act of testing the waters, splashing your feet around to get a feel of the temperature.

He looks over at you all wide-eyed, an eagerness stamped down by his fear of rejection, the neck of a fresh beer strangled beneath his fingers. Condensation drips down the glass, a perfect circle wetting the thigh of his jeans.

You can think of a better reason for those fingers of his.)

His cock springs up when you tug down his underwear, and a long moment passes of shuffling before his pants wind around his ankles, stuck on his sneakers. You sit back, hands resting on the inside of his knees, a steadfast, calming pressure as you take him in. Muscular legs dusted in fine blond hair, thickening as you close in on his groin. The pretty curve of his cock, the flush-pink head. You swallow down a rush of spit that fills your mouth, already anticipating the taste of him on your tongue.

The sudden sound of him clearing his throat stops your starting.

“Ready?” you ask, leaning in close, nuzzling at his lower belly through his shirt. He smells good, like the fresh pine of body wash and clean, flower-pressed clothes.

How sweet of him.

“Yeah.” His voice breaks on the word, hips twitching forward on the cushion.

Cute cute cute cute—

“Stay still for me, okay?” A test to see how well he follows directions, your smile soft, tender at its seam.

His little mutter of, “Yeah,” ignites a wave of heat down to the pit of your gut. So obedient, driven by hindbrain desperation. Fit to burst down the middle.

You start out slow—a trail of loving pecks up the underside of his cock. Ghosting your lips over the skin, depriving yourself of your urges to taste him. To sate your appetite. In turn, whatever resolve he managed to collect shatters at your touch. He gasps like he's been stabbed, hips locking at the last second to avoid disobeying your request.

Spit pools in your mouth, settles in the little divot your tongue makes when you curl it, only to be spread over the vein that runs underside his length. It pulses against your touch, jerks toward his belly when you circle over his frenulum.

“Where you going?” you ask, lips spread into a teasing smile.

A second passes before he breaks into a laugh, head collapsing against the back of the couch, and all the tension is vacuumed from the room. Easy to pretend that this arrangement is long-followed routine, more for his sake than yours.

When the giggles have settled, you take him into the wet heat of your mouth. You hum at the taste of him, the salt-musk of precum, the cleanliness of his skin—

The beast settles, bares its belly from within the cage of your chest.

“Oh, fuck.” Leon reaches up to grip your shoulders, fingers fisting in your shirt when you hollow out your cheeks and swallow him down. “Shit—please—”

He babbles as you work him over, languid bobs of your head that leave him shivering, each inhale a shaky gasp. A lightning-strike fire of unused nerves, impossibly sensitive.

Each reaction from his body licks over your ego, whispers to it sweet nothings, strokes you between the legs with a timid finger. You knew he would be good (so, so good for you) but you never could've imagined this. A sweet little thing, fully ripe, tasty. Skin and all.

When your nose meets his groin, cockhead lodged in the sheath of your throat, he cums without warning—hips grinding against your face, knees locking against your shoulders to keep you in place; the poor thing reduced to basal instinct, rationale fried by orgasm. He attempts some semblance of one, a pitiful whine that dies in his throat, but it doesn't bother you.

You swallow it all anyway.

A tinge of sadness curls in your belly. If only you could have tasted him.

You pull away from him with a wet pop, eyes darting up to his face. You're no better than him. No less a kneeling dog, hungry for validation.

It was good, right? Didn't I do good?

He dips his chin toward his heaving chest and meets your gaze, eyes lidded and watery, cheeks flushed. Pretty. So so pretty.

“That was… fast. I'm—”

“Don't. I liked it.” You crawl up next to him on the couch, hand soothing the skin of his thigh. “And besides, we can always work on it.”

He blinks at you, sluggish in his haze. Can only say, “That was… Jesus. Good.”

Inside, you preen. “Guess I didn't need the practice after all.”

“Fuck no.”

He dissolves into a fit of giggles. Exhales a deep, relaxed sigh. Turns his head to grin at you, and your heart swells to the point of sickly-sweet pain.

Yeah, you can work with this.

.

.

.

He looks at a wet pussy for the first time and forgets how to act.

Sat on his knees before the couch, your legs spread out atop the cushions, he flushes red from the tops of his cheeks down to the neckline of his shirt, eyes alert and searching.

(”Can you teach me how to… ya know?”

You don't know, but then his eyes dart to your lap, a nod of his head following.

Oh. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Quite the opposite given the well of heat that rises in your belly.

“Are you sure?” you ask. “I don't want you to feel like you have to—”

“No, I want to.” His cheeks redden, a shy smile stretching his lips. “A lot.”)

You bite back a smile, adjusting your hips to balance on the edge. “You can touch me, ya know.”

He gives your face a glance, shoulders unfurling from around his ears at whatever expression he sees (no doubt one of anticipation, expectancy). Curls his fingers around your hips, touch gentle, almost wary in the way his thumbs soothe a path over your skin.

His lips twitch into a wincing smile. “I don't really know where to start.”

Something black and viscous twists in your belly. The source of your wickedness—why your insides clench at the plight of his innocence; why you fight the urge to grin at the smallness of his voice.

“Just give it a little kiss. Try different things.” You brush a hand through the silk of his hair, smile loose on your lips. “There's no rush, okay?”

He nods, and a warm breath of air washes over the slick of your cunt. Relief at your relaxation. You reach down and part your inner labia with fore and middle finger, your other hand stretching over the crown of his head to coax him closer.

When his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, your muscles clench around emptiness, a gnawing ache that pangs in your belly. A great chasm of need begging to be stated.

Baby steps. Patience stretched thin for the end reward.

“Have you ever seen a pussy up close?”

He shakes his head, hums his dissent as his eyes dissect you between the legs. You must look a needy mess, slicked up and spread open for him, ready for feasting.

“What do I—” He cuts himself off with a thick swallow, a blink, before the wet muscle of his tongue licks a slow path from hole to clit.

Poor, lost baby. So ready to please, to make you feel good in spite of his inexperience. But you'll teach him. Show him how to properly eat a pussy.

Your hips jolt, a low moan punched from your chest. On instinct, your fingers twist in the silk of his hair, fist a steady weight against the back of his head. He shifts, hands moving to grasp the back of each thigh, opening you up as his tongue licks over your cunt.

He lacks rhythm and just misses your clit on each upstroke, but you applaud his tenacity. The wet squelch each time his tongue dips into your hole, a tease that makes your hips jolt.

When you catch his gaze (his eyes so pretty as they look up at you, puppy-doggish, the blue swallowed by a central sea of black just begging for praise), your teeth catch on your lower lip.

“How's it taste?” you ask, free hand rising to pluck at a nipple.

He sighs against you, pulls away a moment to groan, “Good,” before diving back in.

For all his eagerness, you refuse to cave easily. He needs to earn your pleasure, learn for himself what makes you feel good. But he's observant, malleable. Internalizes your reactions, files each of them away until he hits his mark. Unfortunately, he doesn't understand the importance of consistency just yet.

His desperation keeps you engaged, indefinitely on edge. An anxious bird flitting between trees, never settling in one place—the nest is right there, swollen and sticky and so so sensitive, and if he'd just touch it—

You end his torment by grabbing his face, palms cupping his jaw, a cooing voice that says, “Here, baby.” A finger ghosting over your clit, a map for his tongue to follow.

A jolt shocks your spine when his lips seal around your clit, fingers dimpling the fat of your thighs, and he sucks. Mouth impossibly hot, drooling down the seam of your cunt. The hum of his groan leaves you fisting his hair between your fingers, pulling him closer.

You trap him there with both hands on either side of his head, orgasm unraveling from the base of your spine, a slow spill of sticky molasses. A long-played game of accidental edging wore down your resolve.

He whines against you, suckling in uneven spurts that, in any other circumstance, would leave you groaning in frustration, but his eyes stare up at you all wide and wet. Pleading. Starving for it.

(what a sweet, pitiful thing he is; how could you not wish to keep him?)

The dark miasma of your need rears its ugly head, a steady purr vibrating your ribs—

You cum with a sharp jerk of your thighs, a tightening of your abdomen, and everything burns white-hot in the blackhole darkness behind your eyelids. He grips you hard enough to hurt in an effort to tug you closer, and pleasure-pain grinds your hips against his face.

And then everything stops. You sag against the couch with a heaving sigh as he licks his tongue over your cunt, cleaning you much like a dog would a wound.

Your very own obedient little puppy.

“Good boy,” you sigh, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. “So, so good.”

Behind him, you swear you see a ghostly tail begin to wag.

.

.

.

The following weekend, he lets you fuck him. You only ask the question once, phrase it as polite as possible lest his brain leak out through his ears—

(”Ya know, you're missing out on the whole sex thing.”

“Is it really that good?”

“Yeah. I can show you, if you want.”)

You seat yourself on his cock and admire the honey-silk stretch, the tautness of his belly beneath your fingers, the shine of his eyes as he stares up at you. His hands suspended in air next to your waist, body frozen as all rationale drains from his brain down to the pinpoint pleasure of velvety heat.

He cums after the fourth bounce of your hips—long, languid pumps that swallow him from root to tip. The squelch from your cunt overwhelms the hush of your bedroom, following each involuntary clench of your muscles.

It took nothing to get you wet for him: the mere thought of being his first, a bit of kissing, his fumbling touches beneath your shirt. A tangible devotion. A need to impress.

How pretty he looks spread out on your bed is just a bonus.

It's the cutest thing you've ever seen. How he reaches for your hand (he needs the comfort you suppose), bucks up into you, moans high-pitched and whiny. Head pressed back into the pillow, blushed neck on full display. You wish to sink your teeth into the thrumming pulse, taste blood in the back of your throat. A gift for the occasion.

But you don't. Can't scare him away just yet—not when you've made so much progress.

You stay seated until his breathing evens out and his eyes flutter open, and then you catch them in the reflection of lamp light: a line of tears that disappear into his hairline.

“Ohhhh, poor baby. It's okay.” Your hand cups his jaw, lips pressing soft to his forehead. “You did so well.”

“I didn't last,” he whines pitifully against your shoulder.

And yet you still ache. A bottomless pit of need, the thing inside you more ravenous than ever. An ache so great you could cry, too.

But you have plenty of time to get yours.

“Then we'll have to do it again, won't we?”

He grunts in response, big hands grabbing your hips. The air thickens as if your bedroom holds its breath, waiting on a decision.

When he rolls you onto your back and crawls down the bed, your legs part on instinct.

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

pairing: sugar daddy!leon kennedy x fem!reader

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

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

word count: 3.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gonna cum."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You ok, baby?" he chuckles.

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

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

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

"What was that?" he mocks.

"Shut up," you whimper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl Dixion x f!Reader Nsfw: Fingers in your Mouth

Warnings/Mentions: Oral, Daryl gets you off with his boot, gagging, throat fucking, he forces your mouth open

Summary: Your attitude and snarky remarks earns you a red face and watery eyes after Daryl accepts your challenge.

Notes: I love rough Daryl I love rough Daryl

Your attitude was going to get you killed, or worse. Or better. 

Yeah, this was a lot better. 

You weren't really a ‘brat’ per se, but there were times when people were acting so dramatic and over the top that it drove you to catching an attitude. 

Like back at the farm where Shane, Lori and Rick were having their melodramatic soap opera. You called them out on it, and got a lot of shitty looks. 

Or when Daryl would get overly grumpy and start pulling away from everyone. You called him out on that too. What you didn't know was that he was looking for a reason to go off, and you calling him a cliche lone wolf that needed to get laid was the perfect reason. 

“Need to get laid, huh? S'that what you think?” He laughed in your face, throwing his hands up for emphasis. 

You mocked him, tossing your arm like you were throwing a basketball in a hoop. “Nah, I know it. I know your type. Sleezy redneck who'd fuck any bitch that would give him the honor. Shit ain't so easy out here, and that's why you're treating me like a goddamn mosquito buzzin’ all up in your face.”

He watched you, his eyes following your hands as if he expected you to pull out a gun and start waving it around. He hung his crossbow over his shoulder and folded his arms as you spoke, nodding like he was actually paying attention.

“Ya' done?”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Go get your dick sucked. Better yet, go fuck that redhead that lives across the street.” You referred to the Alexandrian resident, the one who had been drooling over Rick, Daryl, and Abraham the day you all arrived. 

“I got a better idea.” 

He snickered at that, and started unbuckling his belt.

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head, your hands immediately going to rest on your hips. “What? Gonna go on a week-long hunting trip and come back even more of an asshole? Speak to the trees?”

Your eyes widened. 

“Woah, dude.” The laugh that came from your mouth was dry and anxious. You held your hands in front of you, palms out in surrender. “Wasn't serious.”

“Nah, I think you were.” He slipped the leather through the buckle, and began walking towards you. “Melissa's at home. Don't feel like walkin’ all that much for a shitty blow job from that dumb bitch.”

“So you'll walk three feet for a shitty blow job from a not dumb bitch?” You swallowed hard, glancing over your shoulder at the outer walls behind you.

Maybe you shouldn't have followed Daryl out of Alexandria to bitch at him for leaving the shower a muddy mess. 

Now he was in front of you, working on the button of his jeans. 

You didn't want to seem like some desperate whore, but fuck, it had been a real long time for you too. Last time you saw a dick was when you caught Merle pissing on the side of the prison while you were on watchtower duty. That was... what, seven months ago? You had no fucking idea. 

“C'mon then. Make me feel better.” His voice was low then, the same tone he'd use when challenging someone. Daring someone. 

You shifted your feet, watching as he didn't go any further than unzipping his jeans. 

Oh.

Your heart sped up when you came to the realization that he was fucking with you, he didn't actually expect you to suck his dick. He was trying to make you uncomfortable, get you off his back so he could go back to brooding in the woods. 

Your lips spread into a smile, and you took one last glance over your shoulder before bending your knees and kneeling in front of him. 

You grabbed onto the hem of his boxers and pulled them down, watching as his dick, semi hard, rolled out. 

Above you he grunted, obviously taken aback by your actions. He was stiff, almost paralyzed in shock as you grabbed onto his dick and gave him a few long strokes. 

You looked up at him, a shit eating grin on your lips. “Look at that.” His dick was already hard as a rock. All it took was a few lazy strokes. “Didn't think you'd be so easy.”

You wiped the grin from his face the second you got your tongue on him. He choked on his own breath, grabbing your hair as he fought to keep standing. 

Finally he reacted, his eyebrows raising and a grin of disbelief on his face. You knew what he was thinking. ‘Says you’. Says the one about to suck his dick five seconds after he jokingly told you to. 

When you started taking his dick in your mouth, he lost the fight. He pulled away and walked a few steps backwards until he bumped into a tree, and only then did he finally slump towards the ground. 

He raised a shaky hand and beckoned you forward with a curled finger. 

Your heart leapt up into your throat and you had to force yourself to walk forward calmly, and not trip over the numerous branches and twigs littering the forest floor. 

It was hard to act calm seeing Daryl slumped against the base of a tree with his cock out. And he had this look on his face, rather, his eyes. Slightly narrowed with his head tilted back, watching you through his lashes as you approached him. 

They were the sexiest bedroom eyes you'd seen in your entire life. 

You crouched in front of him between his spread knees and reached out to grab his cock again. All the confidence you had a few moments earlier was completely gone, drained from your body the second he looked at you with that darkened expression. 

His knee jerked ever so slightly when you hunched over to take him in your mouth. It was cute, the way he was so responsive to you. If you weren't so turned on (and intimidated) you'd find it endearing. 

You did your best to make him squirm and moan, sucking the tip of his dick with as much pressure as you could manage, swirling your tongue around the head, using your other hand to massage his balls, and it worked.

Confidence was slowly building back up inside you the more you heard him sigh and gasp. That was until you saw his right leg slide up, and felt the tip of his boot between your thighs. 

You gasped through your nose, your jaw quivering around him. 

“Easy, hmm?” He breathed, a hand reaching down to push your hair from his face. The boot thing was unintentional, just an accident. But now that he'd seen you react to it, it was his top priority before cumming down your throat. 

Making you squirm and moan.

You tried to clench your thighs shut, maybe slide down onto your stomach, but that was foolish. A stupid idea. He was wearing steel toed boots and he simply nudged your knees apart, the tip once again sliding against your jean covered cunt. 

The moan that vibrated around his length was filthy, you couldn't help it. You also couldn't help pushing your hips down, and the second moan that came after the feeling of pressure against your clit. 

Suddenly, his boot applied a little too much pressure. You gasped through your nose again, and without even meaning to, grazed your teeth along the head of his dick. 

He cursed, his body jerking up and his hands balling up fistfuls of your hair. 

You popped your mouth off of him, shooting him a glare. “I didn't mean to. You were being too rough.”

“Don't, don't fuckin’ do that.” He hissed, using the grip he had on your hair to give you a rough yank. His version of punishment. 

His eyebrows raised, and his thumb gathered the bit of drool you had on your bottom lip. “You never stop bitchin’, even with a dick in your mouth.”

You scoffed, and did something you shouldn't have. 

You lowered your head back down, and grazed your teeth along his shaft, pulling your lips back in a playful sneer.

He didn't like that, and he sat up straighter. 

His thumb went from your bottom lip to your mouth, shoving all the way back to your molars. He shifted it sideways and slanted, forcing your mouth to stay open, and slipped his dick back in your mouth. 

With his other hand he tightened his grip on your hair and began moving your entire head up and down his length.

You wanted to pull off of him, call him a fucking asshole and tell him to jerk himself off, but his boot was rubbing against you again and much more gently than before. 

The grip he had on your hair wasn't something you could get out of, even if you really wanted to. 

He was considerate at first, moving your head slow and not too low. Just enough to tease the back of your tongue. You'd gotten used to it, finding ways to make it more comfortable, even with his fingers prying your mouth open. 

Just as you'd worked up a routine, he snatched it away from you with a thrust of his pelvis. His tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged, your hands flying up to grab onto his hips to steady yourself. 

He allowed you a moment to breathe, and accept your fate, make any adjustments you might need to before he carried on.

“Like the sound of that.” He grunted, thrusting up and down your throat again. Spit dribbled out the sides of your mouth, bubbles bursting and tears forming in your eyes. “Lot better than your goddamn yappin'.”

You gagged again, feeling his dick slip dangerously deep down your throat. You inhaled deeply through your nose, trying to steady yourself, but his thrusts were relentless. 

“Wha’? Got nothin' to say? Not gonna bite me again? Go on, make my day.”

You weren't sure where this persona came from. It was extremely uncharacteristic of him, but truthfully, you didn't really know Daryl. And no one knew what he was like in bed. No one besides you, now. 

Maybe he was just on edge with all the drama happening in Alexandria. All the deaths and constant fighting. Maybe you were right and he did need his dick sucked, and maybe he already knew that. 

As if he thought you'd actually try to bite him again, he crammed in his index finger, sliding it beside his thumb to force your mouth open even wider. Your jaw ached, and so did your tongue, but there wasn't much you could do. You made your bed. 

The gagging got worse and more frequent the longer it went on. His grip on your hair was brutal, holding your head up in the air, hovering over his pelvis so he could fuck up into your mouth like it was his own fist, and not an actual human. The thought had your stomach flipping, and a muffled moan vibrated around his dick again. 

He groaned long and deep at the feeling. His boot snapped back to life, rubbing up and down against your jeans until your hips took over, grinding down on him to the point he didn't have to move it anymore. 

You were embarrassingly close already. It was mostly due to the fact that you were getting off on Daryl's fucking shoe, but also due to how rough and filthy he was being. 

You'd always thought he'd be the shy stoic kind of man when it came to sex, the same way he was normally. Not whatever sinful monster he was now. 

When you came, you gripped the belt loops of his pants and held on for dear life. Your orgasm was brutal, bulldozing out of your core and sending shockwaves up your torso, buzzing down to your sore clit. You groaned around his dick, grinding your hips down like an animal in heat, not even noticing the way Daryl had stopped moving completely. 

You took a moment to gasp, nearly choking on your spot, and once your shivers stopped, Daryl pulled your head back down, cramming his entire dick down your throat. 

You gagged around him, your throat spasming and clenching when you felt his cum dribble down it. You were both thankful you'd missed lunch, because that exact moment would've had the contents of your stomach on display all over his pants. 

The noises that came from his mouth made up for it. Good lord, they were beautiful. Breathy moans on the way up, and then a drawn out whine that caught in his throat, and he had to swallow hard, panting heavily before letting out that last trembling whimper. 

He drug his fingers out from between your teeth, leaving a thick drizzle of spit slapping against your chin and falling onto the crotch of his jeans. You practically yanked your head away from him, gasping for air and whimpering at the exhaustion shaking through your body. You were fucking shivering from the constant gagging, your abdomen having spasms of their own from fighting the urge to vomit bile. 

You'd never forget the sound of that. 

He looked almost guilty, looking at your poor face. Wet swollen lips, tears running down your red cheeks, your hair a complete mess and your mouth turned into an unintentional frown. 

“Shit.” He breathed, stuffing his dick back in his pants before taking a handkerchief from the pocket of his shirt to wipe your tears, and then the drool. “M'sorry, christ.”

“No, s’okay.” You slurred, your lips twitching into a lazy and satisfied grin. “Was hot. Really hot.”

“Yeah?” He raised his brows, his eyes narrowed in cautious hesitance. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, turning your head to the side as he wiped your jawline. 

He was silent as he took care of you, fixing your hair and offering you water. You could tell he still felt bad, which tugged at your heart. He'd done a complete one eighty after coming, it was sort of sweet. 

Your suggestion worked, that was for sure. 

You glanced down the end of the hall before looking at her, fighting away a smirk. You raised your hand, made a circle with your fingers and moved it towards your mouth in the unmistakable ‘blowjob’ movement. 

He didn't sulk so much the next few days. He actually had dinner with you and the others, which wasn't unusual, but the way he contributed to small talk was. He stayed in Alexandria for a week straight, not even going out to hunt. He was satisfied sticking around and helping out within the walls. 

“What'd you do?” Maggie whispered, her hand still on your wrist from pulling you aside after seeing Daryl laugh. Like, a genuine Daryl laugh. 

Her eyes widened and a laugh burst from her lips. Then her smile faded. “You're serious?”

“Yes.”

The two of you erupted into giggles, and she punched your shoulder playfully. You had to pretend that it didn't hurt. Heavy handed farmer's daughter. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @iloverocks @jinx-nanami

Ddlg Chris, this, ddlg Leon that... They're good, but mommy Ada is what im looking forrrrrrr (I already KNOW you'll get me kennykins)

mhm i'm picking up what you're putting down hehe

ada wong x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, mommy kink, thigh riding

tags: @nexysworld @d10nyx @pupthepokemonenthusiast

"Come closer for me, babydoll," Ada purrs as she guides you across the couch into her lap.

Her plush lips meet yours in a series of soft kisses. Soft fingertips glide over your thighs to your hips. The swell of her chest pushes against yours. She's all you can smell, and it's absolutely intoxicating.

The two of you had been lounging around the house, both not wearing much to start with. Fortunate for you, only wearing panties on your lower half makes the rush of pleasure that much more intense when you roll your hips down on her leg.

She huffs out a laugh and pulls back a bit, taking in the sight of your swollen, wet lips.

"Greedy girl," she coos teasingly, coasting her thumb under your chin, "Wanting more already?"

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you nod.

"Yeah? You'll need to use your words for me then, baby," she says.

"I want more," you say softly, eyes timid as they connect with hers.

"I already know you want more," she taunts. Her hand sweeps back down to squeeze your waist in tandem with her other one. "You can beg for me better than that."

A whine falls from your lips, but that doesn't cut it. "P-please," you begin, "I wanna feel good."

Her smile grows, but she doesn't say anything to imply you've satisfied her command.

"I wanna be good for you. However you want. Please?" you continue.

"Please what?" she asks in response to your pathetic display.

How could you have forgotten the magic word?

"Please mommy?" you whimper.

"My smart girl," she says, her voice low and seductive.

She pulls you closer on her lap and adjust you so only one of her thighs is slotted between your legs. You get a few more kisses as she pulls you down on it.

"I think I need to teach you some self-sufficiency so I don't have to coax everything out of you," she whispers against your mouth, "I want you to make yourself cum."

Your eyes blink open. You whine softly and reach for her hand, wanting her to make you cum instead.

"Ah ah," she tuts, "Maybe later if you put on a good show for me."

The promise of her hands on you later was enough to convince you to start rolling your hips like you'd been doing before. You grind yourself down against her thigh, letting your clit drag against her.

"C'mon. You're a big girl. You can do better," she teases and leans back. Her hands remain on your hips, giving you little guidance. "I can feel how wet you are. I know you want to move faster."

So you do. As was typical in your relationship with Ada, she spoke it and you obeyed her words as if they were enchanted. Your hips rut against her, displaying an accurate representation of the passion inside her. You moan and your head tilts back as the pleasure blooms within you.

"There you go," she coos, "Such a good girl for mommy, doing what your told. I suppose this is pretty natural for you. Like a needy puppy in heat."

You gasp, feeling your face heat up. In your present condition, words weren't an option. Your mind had been reduced down to a haze of need and desire. All you can do is lean forward and bury yourself in the crook of her neck. Your hips keep rocking the whole time.

"My baby," she chuckles. Her hands slide around to your back and rub it soothingly as if trying to calm you down. You pant against her smooth skin, nuzzling it like an affectionate puppy.

"Feels so good," you whimper, practically drooling on her throat.

"I can tell," she says.

Her palms leave your back and snake between your two bodies to fondle your breasts. The sensation draws more mewls from you and makes you hump her leg faster, chasing that blissful edge that was just in reach.

"Mommy," you whine, "Can I cum soon?"

"Look at you, actually remembering to ask for permission," she praises and plants a kiss on the side of your head.

"Can I?" you whine again with desperation. You had asked in advanced because you knew she would draw this out, but the brink of ecstasy was still quickly approaching.

"Look me in the eyes when you ask," she says.

You force yourself up and look into her eyes.

"Mommy, can I please cum?" you say, making sure to include any words she could tack on to make you ask again.

"Can I?" she mocks.

"May I? Fuck," you whimper. Your hips sputter as your release is impending.

"Yes," she says with a small laugh, finally permitting you to topple over the edge.

You come apart on top of her, bucking your hips wildly as euphoria crashes over you. Your head returns to its spot against her neck. You ride out the pleasure until it dwindles down to a fizzle.

When you're done, she guides you to look up at her, rubbing her thumb across your lips.

"Such a good girl," she coos. She then smriks, briefly dipping her thumb between your lips. "I think I offered you something if you put on a good show."

Her other hand dips into your panties.

"I'd say you've earned it."