Getting a sweet pet nice and high to help them relax.. watching them slip deeper and deeper into comfort and bliss as they get higher and higher, all their anxiety melting away. Softly cooing over them as I lay their body over my lap, keeping my voice quiet and gentle so I don’t overwhelm their poor tired brain… gently spreading their thighs… petting and squeezing them before dipping my fingers into their tight heat… thrusting slowly as I listen to their beautiful noises. So good for me 🖤
day six [ intoxication
.. trick or treat! harvey dent ,
'' word count : 2.8k
before cam use . 18 + , smut , f!wife!reader , alcohol use , drunk sex , degrading , slapping ( subtle impact play ) , unprotected sex , spit exchange , rough sex
You know, Cobblepot had a club like no other, you could give the stub of a man that.
Lounging in the Iceberg Lounge and nursing a dirty margarita was a great pastime after a day at the Attorney's office - nobody said being the DA was easy, but after your husband Harvey had been hit by the acid attack and gone rogue? This was the only thing you could think of to ease both yourself and him.
Sure, he was a bit..hard to get through to at times considering you now weren't just married to Harvey, but also the other personality that would practically force Harvey to distance from you.
It was stressful and just as hurtful, but you couldn't do anything to ease it.
But after weeks of trying to get some bonding time- any type of time with your lover, you finally had. It may be in a setting not suitable for any heart to heart conversation, but it was a setting you'd hope Harvey would allow himself to settle into - you're sure he would, considering all he ever was really familiar with were guns, drinks, drugs..whatever he may get into as Two-Face.
Two-Face, an anomaly that had taken your heart and even your freedom too.
The satin of the pearl, strapped open back mini dress, a glittering black, hugged your figure tight, the flashy lights bringing the material to life while you sipped on your drink; Harvey had gotten it for you as a birthday gift last year, and yet this was your first time wearing it.
Nothing but nervousness filled you at every passing second - where was he? Had something come up last minute again? Was he okay?
Or did he just not find pleasure in your company anymore.
Your lashes fluttered while you bit the inside of your cheek, swallowing the storm of emotions brewing as you grabbed your purse - stupid for you to think Harvey cared about you enough to come.
Just as you reached for your wallet, a hand slid down your back and rested on the low of it. Tensing, you turned around prepared to slap your purse or flee but quickly stopped. Familiar brown and red eyes gazed into your own, and you were faced with the planes of Harvey, and his scarred face.
"Sorry I.." Harvey started, his tone rather apologetic, "I had a run in, I tried to get here as fast as I could."
Though, that tone quickly changed when a rough laugh left Harvey yet again, "Oh please, you know you tried to stall as much as you could. Wanted to see if your doll would indulge in another man." The other side spoke with nothing but malice.
You frowned, though Harvey's good side quickly had a wide eye, "What? No! No I- shit.." He sighed, "No, baby. I would never think of you that way, wouldn't even dream of it," he murmured as he leaned in and softly kissed your cheek.
Hesitation was obvious on your features but you knew it can't be helped; Harvey didn't ask to be this way.
"..It's okay," you spoke softly, "I'm just glad you're here."
Harvey nodded, taking a seat next to you by the bar before looking you up and down openly, "You're wearing the dress I bought," he was clearly in awe, "you make it look even more beautiful."
A smile graced your lips, eyes softening, "Thanks Harv."
He chuckled softly, "Of course." He glanced at the bartender, "Um..can I get Glenlivet 18? On the rocks." He turned to you, "You want another?" He questioned, and you nodded, your done nails tapping against the surface of the bar, "Yeah, I'll take a glass of '42 please."
The bartender noted, proceeding to make the drinks while Harvey hummed, "What'd you do to today?" He asked - he knew he hadn't been seeing you much, and he felt horrible about it. He loved you, he really did but he'd gone down a path that he couldn't exactly just not stop paying attention to.
You thought about it, before answering, "Just..regular paperwork at the office. Nothing special."
Harvey nodded, before the other side quickly snickered, "Pathetic. I'm sure it's all you're capable of anyway."
That flash of hurt in your eyes didn't go unnoticed as Harvey grunted, "Fuck- no, no that's not true." He weakly saved, and you couldn't help how bad you felt; he was trying, you knew he was and even if it was hard to hear words like that, you knew it wasn't Harvey.
"Harv, it's fine," You reassured while the clink of your drinks being placed by your guys' hand echoed slightly, "you don't have to apologize. I know it's not you, and that it's not easy either."
Harvey only looked away, the guilt palpable, "You..shouldn't have to deal with this, with me." He muttered, his tone bitter. It made your heart hurt, and you moved to grasp his hand, "Don't say that. I love you, scars and..and issues and all."
He looked at you, the gaze in his good eye pitiful, "Even with who I am? Are you proud to be Two-Face's wife?" He asked, subtle scorn.
You paused, not wanting to come off as reluctant as you spoke, "..I'm proud to be Harvey Dent's wife." You answered gently.
Harvey gave you silence in return, processing the sentence before he sighed deeply, "I don't know what I'd do without you..maybe I'd run myself into a ditch."
This made you giggle a little, "Oh come on." You nudged his shoulder, and he smiled weakly, grasping his glass and taking a swig, "Let's forget about that then, hm? Just us and..drinks."
Taking ahold of your own drink, you nodded, "sounds like a plan babe."
With that agreement, you two flowed into an easy wave of conversations that you both hadn't had in months - it was a breath of fresh air with every laugh either of you took out of eachother, every experience you two spoke of, and every new thing you planned to do.
It felt liberating, especially with the lack of outbursts that'd go on throughout the time you two spent downing drinks and enjoying each other's presence.
It felt like you had your husband back again.
Four shots down for the both of you, and things were starting to float. You two were definitely loose now, considering you guys hadn't been drinking anything light.
Harvey was fairly dizzy, and he grasped your wrist carefully, "You know we haven't, had it this easy in sooo..long." He slurred a little, and it only made your alcohol riddle mind cheer, "Mm, yeah?" You giggled, "We should go somewhere, make things even easier."
This made the man before you grin wildly, "Perfect, let's get outta 'ere..Penguin's ha'n't ever been gozy.." The c in cozy came out a bit disoriented, but neither of you cared.
Rushed and stumbled movements made it to the ride Harvey had come in, driven by one of his men while you two ushered into the backseat.
Harvey was holding you tight to him by the waist, a slurred laugh, "Gonna have so much fun together," He managed in a broken sentence, and you hummed, "Mhm! Gonna be fun."
You couldn't help it, your swimming mind was focused on something else. A cheeky hand moved to unbutton Harvey's pants, and just as you reached in, his hand snatched your wrist, "Ah, ah," came the voice of the other side, "..be patient naughty girl." It hissed.
It made something in you sink, but what did you know drunk off your mind?
"Hm, 'm not haughty," You frowned, mistaking the two identical words. The other side chuckled deeply, something that made your stomach stir with heat while he tutted, "Naughty. I said naughty. You're not naughty, are you?"
You batted your eyes at him, and shook your head, "No. I'm not naughty."
The other side nodded, "Just what I thought. Behave." He ordered, letting go of your wrist.
The car ride continued on in silence, though glances were exchanged between you and Harvey, the tension increasing in the vehicle with every moment - it was suffocating.
After ages of the two of you growing more impatient and more tempted to have at it right in the car, the sound of tires screeching against pavement sounded. Your eyes flitted outside the window to the sight of the mansion you and Harvey lived in together.
Money pays, whether it's from blood or sweat.
It was like watching two animals fight for the finish when you two scrambled out of the car without a word and ran to the front door.
Once the lock clicked into place, Harvey had smashed his lips right into yours and wrapped his arms around your waist, grabbing a handful of your ass and making you squeak out a sound, your arms flying to wrap around his neck.
It was animalistic the way you two moved towards the stairs, eating at each other's face with prominent groans and moans from both of your mouths.
Teeth, tongue and gasps made the heavy makeout while Harvey guided you to the stairs, albeit the stumbles and close falls every few steps. The electricity in every touch only amplified every emotion in you, making you even needier for the man.
Harvey fumbled with the handle to your guys' room before he opened it, shoving the door open and closing it just as fast while guiding you back to the king sized bed behind you. He shoved you onto it, ridding himself of every article of clothing he wore, kicking his shoes off and leaving his boxers on, the tent evident.
You could've whined - he was teasing you and you knew it.
Though that thought quickly evaporated when Harvey unzipped your dress with trembling hands, the high off the liquor only boosting whatever adrenaline he'd had prior before he practically tore your dress of and threw it somewhere.
"You're gorgeous baby," Harvey rasped, his tone shaky from how badly he needed you, his hands kissing at your cleavage and massaging your hips before he grasped your ass again, toying with your panties, "never seen anything as pretty as you. Never will."
You moaned when you felt Harvey move your bra with his teeth, latching onto a nipple and licking at the bud. You clenched your thighs, a shaky exhale.
Everything was suddenly much more amplified, every touch much stronger than it usually was.
He worked quick fast, rushed as he yanked your panties off, opting to keep your bra on while he continued to feel along your body.
It was a spiral of colours, the feelings you got with Harvey - even if those times were limited often.
Harvey grabbed his cock out of his boxers, guiding it to your needy cunt, "We..we should really.." he tried to say, but you shook your head, "No, just- just put it in..please. Can't take it, much l-longer." You croaked out, and Harvey growled; you were going to fucking kill him.
Pressing the reddened tip to your folds, he slid it up and down before he carefully began pushing into the ring of muscles, eliciting a disoriented whine from you as Harvey continued to slide into you, making you feel every single part of this long cock.
"H-harv!" You whimpered, and his hand grasped the back of your neck, "Got it in baby, almost got it."
With closed eyes, Harvey made one fierce movement to bottom out in you, making you sob out.
Panting heavily and giving you time to adjust while maintaining his own semblance of control, he hummed, "Dear God.."
That's when a grunt sounded, and the grip on the back of your neck grew harsh, "Nh- hey!" You pouted a little, and that's when the sultry yet dark tone of the other side spoke, "Treatin' you like a princess ain't gonna cut it," he muttered, "a little slut like you needs to really feel it."
You could tell it wasn't Harvey, you could settle for Big Bad Harv immaturely, but you simply thought of it as the other side.
No name - evil like such wasn't deserving of a name.
Before you knew it, the other side's arm was planted firmly against you while the other hand was still grasping the back of your neck in a tight grip, before he forced you to look down at Harvey's intruding cock, nestled deep inside.
He then, began thrusting in harsh, deep strokes, "Watch right there," he demanded, "watch as I stretch this greedy pussy'a yours wide open."
Loud, startled moans left you in high notes as Harvey pounded into every single nerve you had, making your legs shake profusely and tears rapidly collect at the corners of your eyes.
This wasn't Harvey, not the good man you knew but the alcohol in you didn't care.
It craved that fantasy you kept hidden for the alcohol to unravel - the desire to see not how Harvey did you, but the bad side of him.
The side that had Gotham cowering, the side that wasn't reasonable, wasn't playing in the name of justice and instead speaking for the devil's game.
You wanted the roughness the side that couldn't love could offer you, something your sweet Harvey couldn't.
Wet slaps were one of the many sounds gathering in a symphony of erotic sounds as Harvey kept on pistoning into you, and that oh so pitiful voice came through, "F-fuck! I'm, I'm sorry I just.." his voice grew strained because despite his apologies, he was getting off on this, and the liquor made every single thing rational.
He held onto your thighs, pushing them back to your chest and suddenly - the head of his cock was kissing your cervix.
A silent scream, or maybe a scream did leave; you couldn't tell anymore because all your mind swam with was the feeling of Harvey's cock stretching you open and making you feel a rush you didn't know was possible.
Harvey heaved, sweat coating his face while he desperately tried to war with himself. He was being too rough, maybe he should-
No.
Scrunching his eyes, he quickened and put all his effort once he felt the heat began to tighten in his groin, "'M sorry baby.I really am b..but, fuck..you feel s-so fuc'in- good!" He hoarsed, slamming into you with a force that had you arching your back.
You were going in and out of reality, too brainfucked and intoxicated to really fathom anything but the ecstasy - until a tight slap was delivered to your face, making you gasp and your eyes flutter open in surprise.
The other side clearly wasn't intoxicated - an immunity that served as a blessing and a curse to you, "Don't fuckin' listen to that. You're a whore, I mean who's pussy get's wet when they're getting split open like a toy? That's right, you." He practically snarled, delivering a hard slap to your ass and making you whine.
"Open that filthy mouth," He demanded, and you obliged pathetically. He grabbed your jaw with the hand behind your neck, keeping you open and spitting right into your mouth, "Swallow. Come on, sluts listen and take whatever, don't they?"
Moaning with delirious pleasure in every thrum of your body, you swallowed and fuck, you liked it.
You hated how you only got wetter, making the way Harvey slid in so much easier, so much more quicker to hit your every crevice.
The other side leaned in close to your face, his breath on yours, "Come on. Who's fuckin' whore are ya? Tell me with that mouth of yours, drooling and taking my spit like a cocksleeve," He demanded, "Huh? Say it."
And your mushed brain couldn't miss the chance, "I-I'm your whore!" You parroted, and the other side grinned, "Yeah? Is this tight pussy enjoying what it deserves?" He rasped, and you nodded rapidly, "Uh huh! D..deserves it so bad!" You slurred, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth as your eyes grew half lidded.
The heat in your stomach began to expand and push downwards at the base of your spine, "C-cumming!" You wailed, and just at the last second, Harvey snapped right back, "That's it baby," he cooed through his own drunken tone, "cum for me. Don't cum for anybody else."
With one forceful thrust, you both were coming simultaneously, groans and moans a flurry mix as he came right inside you, filling you to the brim.
You were spent, your consciousness threatening to leave you while Harvey laid on top of you, though he was weary of not crushing you even in his abbreviated state.
Harvey trailed lazy kisses along your cleavage, "Love you.." He murmured, and you could only hum.
Because now, all you could imagine was how you'd love to do it again - but only after the hangover in the morning faded.
*
kinktober list , requests here , masterlist , intro ( navigation )
✮⋆˙Summary: based on S4E12 of twd titled "Still".
You and Daryl come across an old cabin in the woods, bringing up sour memories and the hope of some protection. Due to a night of drinking crystal clear moonshine and a game of Never Have I Ever on the decaying floorboards, you two open up when you dare Daryl to be blindfolded for the rest of the game.
✮⋆˙a/n: welcome to my first installment of Kinktober 2025! i chose a few of the themes from this first week that i loved, including intoxication, blindfolds, and coming untouched! the first time i watched this scene i knew i had to rewrite it with my own horny twist ;)
It had been a while since you’ve properly relaxed. After the prison fell, all you could focus on was the likelihood of being eaten by walkers and picking up tracking skills from Daryl out in what felt like purgatory. It was hard not knowing what all happened, who made it out, and who didn’t. Fear overpowered every aspect of your life, and worry was an invisible mass forming in your stomach.
So when you and Daryl stumbled across a shitty cabin in the woods, you felt a light sense of relief. Never in your life did you think you would ever be so grateful to see four walls and a roof. Daryl, on the other hand, was hesitant. Part of you knew a spot like this would probably bring up some old memories from his past, things similar to what Merle had briefly mentioned to you in the prison. Teasing you, doing anything he could to steer you away from his brother. Nevertheless, there was something about Daryl that always intrigued you. He was a puzzle that couldn’t be solved, because you have all the pieces. And the way he worked with a crossbow, quickly, effortlessly, made you feel some type of way. It was selfish, but you were secretly ecstatic that you had escaped the prison with him. Maybe now would be your chance to see a side of him that was hidden behind the motorcycles and leather.
The house reeked of piss and cigarettes. Home sweet home You thought.
“Shit.” Daryl chuckled from the other side of the living room. He knelt down beside the torn recliner.
You turn your gaze from the stack of newspapers sat on the wooden bookshelf, noticing the mason jar in his hands. “What’s up?”
He straightened his back, facing you. “This fucker has moonshine. Shoulda known.” He explained.
“Jesus. Can’t you go blind from that or something?”
He smirked before locking his blue eyes with yours. “Nah. It’s all horseshit.” He tossed the jar to you. Frantically, you clumsily caught it midair before hitting the floor. You turned it over in your hands, looking for any type of indication of what it was. And yet, Daryl recognized the stuff in an instant. Maybe this would be a good way to loosen-up a bit? Get to spend some time with Daryl? You thought.
You chuckled. “Well… Should we try some, Dixon?” You replied.
“Right now?” He said, surprised.
You took a step over to him, closing the gap slightly. You could feel the heat blooming in your face. “Got nothin’ better to do.”
The room was heavy. You sat across from him, legs crossed on the floor with another mason jar half-full of the crystal liquor. He was at the foot of a beat-up leather couch, hugging his knees to his chest, eyes locked on the floor. You could feel a cool line of sweat fall down the centre of your back in anticipation, a rush setting off your senses the same way a rustling bush would. This was the first time you weren’t together fighting for your lives, instead having to face a real conversation. Something you both avoided until now. You rarely ever seen Daryl like this. Unsure, avoidant. You had to do something. You had to take control.
“Let’s play Never Have I Ever.” You insisted.
“Huh?” He said, blankly.
“You know. Like… I say something I’ve never done and if you have, you drink. If you haven’t, then I drink. And we just go back and forth.”
“Sounds easy ‘nough.” He shrugged.
“Okay. I’ll go first then.”
“Sure.”
“Never have I ever… Shot a crossbow. So now you drink.” You explain.
Sure enough, he tilted the glass and took a swig of the booze, making a sour face.
“Okay, fine then. I’ve never…” He paused for a second, thinking of a prompt. “Worn a dress.”
You rolled your eyes before taking your first sip. It tasted like poison, burning your throat as it melt into your stomach. At this rate, it would take you years to actually get to know each other.
“Let’s make this more interesting.” You giggled. “How about if the other person hasn’t done it, they have to dare you to do something.”
“Like what?” He said, looking at the floor.
“Anything.”
His face tilted up, looking at you intrigued. “Anythin’?”
“Yes. Anything.” You stated.
“M’kay, sure. Let’s do it.” He snarled. It was obvious that he was hesitant to the idea given how little he had looked at you this whole time. Hopefully, this would help him come out of his shell.
“Okay, my turn. Never have I ever been stopped by the cops.”
“Damn.” He sighed, taking a long drink from his glass. “It was one time, m’kay?”
“Seriously? For what?” You asked.
He shook his head. “Somethin’ dumb.”
“No, really, tell —”
“Never have I ever…” He started, ignoring what you just said. “Been outta Georgia.”
You stared at him in silence. In all your years on this planet you truly never left the state. You had planned to after college with your friends to celebrate graduating. Instead, the thought of leaving was bitter, a tender memory of what life used to be.
“Really?” He looked at you puzzled.
“What? Like you’re the only one in the whole state who’s stayed?”
He looked uncomfortable, shifting in his spot. Silenced by the overwhelming guilt of touching a nerve. “Well, I just. A girl like you usually leaves to see places like they write about in them books.” You could see the regret in his puppy dog eyes.
You took a moment, finding a spot on the floor to focus on instead of crying, rearranging your legs to sit more comfortably. “I just… I just never got to, is all.”
Great. Now this was awkward. Definitely the last thing you needed tonight. You couldn’t bear to see the sadness in his gaze. It reminded you of your own pain, prompting you to think about what else you had lost. Your family, your friends, the hopes and dreams you once had. It was all gone.
But you couldn’t think about that right now. Instead, you needed to loosen up. You straightened your back and took a long drink from your cup before pulling it from your lips.
“You know… Now I have to give you a dare.” You said.
“Fine.” He looked back up to you, questioning what exactly it was you would make him do.
You knew what would help you more forward. “I dare you to play the rest of the game blindfolded.”
He shook his head, smiling to himself shyly. “Are you serious right now?” He said, his voice cracking.
“Do I look like I’m serious right now, Dixon?” You said blankly.
“M’kay, fine.” He drew a black piece of fabric from his pocket, holding it out in front of you for assistance. “Gon’ need some help here.” His voice was squeaky with defeat.
“My pleasure.” You teased before grabbing the fabric. You swung your legs under yourself and got up before walking over to his side of the table. Once you were standing over him you squatted down, gently wrapping the cloth around his eyes and securing it behind his head with a knot. His hair smelled like blood and wind, further intoxicating your senses.
Before another second could pass, you got back up and resumed your spot on the floor. Despite being blindfolded, he was calm, trusting you in this moment.
“So it’s my turn I guess.” You gulped, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Never have I ever… Been in love.” You blushed.
He was quiet. “Nope.” He said dryly.
“It looks like we’re both losers then.” You laughed.
“Looks like it.” He smiled. “I, uh… I have to give you a dare now, right?” He was nervous.
“Those are the rules.”
From under the blindfold you could see redness spread across his face. “Okay then. I dare you to… Let me touch your hair.”
“My hair?” You moved your hand back, feeling the loose braid hanging between your shoulders. It was the only way to keep your hair from getting matted.
“Yeah, I guess. Those are the rules, right?” He said.
“I guess so.” You replied.
Slowly, you got up from your spot, making your way over to him and sitting down on his left side, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough to be met by the same faint scent of cherry red blood.
You took the braid in your hands, patiently unweaving the strands holding it in place and brushing your fingers through your hair, allowing it to fall over your shoulders. Revealing yourself to him, the pieces tucked away since this all started.
He leaned in closer, whispering to you gently. “Is this okay?”
You leaned in, meeting his tone. “Yes, Daryl. It’s okay.” You confirmed quietly.
Timidly, he reached a hand to the pieces falling beside your face, touching them lightly, being careful to not pull too hard to hurt you.
A breath escaped you, enjoying the feeling of being touched for the first time in months. Hell, it’s been years. In response, his fingers froze in fear, scared that he hurt you.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
“Yeah. Sorry, it’s just been so long since I’ve felt like this.” You giggled. “This feels so nice, Daryl.”
He let out a sigh of relief, air he was holding in while waiting for you to answer.
Something felt different between you. Your head felt lighter and the air was sweet. Maybe it was the booze, sure, but there was more to it. You liked getting to know him like this, so intimately, so relaxed. His touch was so gentle, nurturing you and silencing all the bad thoughts that have been circling your mind for so long.
“Never have I ever…” He started. “Been to college.” He said, fingers still running through your hair.
“Nice one, Dixon.” You teased before taking another drink. Your heart was beating fast, pounding with every stroke he ran down your hair. It was dizzying, clouding your thoughts and hurting your eyes. The alcohol made your lips tingle, begging for relief.
“My turn.” You said, turning towards him to whisper in his ear. “I’ve never kissed someone who’s been blindfolded before.” Your voice trailed off, pressing for a response.
His hand left your hair, darting back down to rest on his knee. You could see the way his ears turned red under his dark hair. He shifted in place, taking in what you just said, unsure of what to say. Instead, he laughed nervously, shaking his head as a reply.
“I want you, Daryl.” You said breathlessly.
“You drank too much.” He exclaimed nervously.
And in that second, you took control, pressing the palm of your right hand behind his shoulder and angling your face down to him, touching his soft lips to yours. He tasted like moonshine. Bitter, cold, but addictive. At first, he sat there frozen, before leaning into you, bringing his hand to the back of your head, digging his fingers into your hair, deepening the kiss.
You reached your other arm across him, fingers finding purchase on the side of his neck, pulling him in until he pushed himself up and turned his body to face you to face you, his figure forcing you between him and the foot of the couch. Your mouth parted, allowing his tongue to frantically brush over yours, tasting you. You couldn’t get enough, he was so gentle with you, running his hands down your hair and kissing you with so much patience, being sure to do it right.
Your breath grew heavy, gasping for air between every kiss, unable to control your heartbeat to the point where you thought it might explode out of your body. You reached a hand to your head, taking one of his hands in yours and placing it on your chest, begging him to feel just how much his touch fucked with you. But you needed more, needed him to touch you, to make you feel a way you haven’t in years. Slowly, you dragged his hand onto your right breast, dragging his palm over your hardened nipple straining through your shirt.
Daryl gasped at the feeling, unable to control his breath, tightening his grip on your hair to brace himself. Concern brushed over your body, hoping you didn’t take it too far and scared him away. He pulled back, prompting your eyes to open. This was quite the scene. Your legs were parted, laying on either side of him, opening your body up to him. He was kneeling between your thighs, the blindfold damp with sweat and beads of moisture falling from his neck.
“Fuck.” He sputtered. “Fuck me.” He said, tilting his head down.
“What is it?” You asked, mouth wet and swollen.
“Nothin’. Just… Just gimme a sec. Ah, shit.” He was flustered, lips reddened from kissing you. He reached his hands up, untying the fabric covering his eyes. It fell between you, revealing the worry in his face and an expression that almost read as embarrassment.
He was paralysed, looking down to the wet spot dotting the crotch of his pants.
He came. Daryl Dixon was covered in his own fucking cum from kissing you. You didn’t even have to touch him and it happened. Your heart was still racing, but now it was at the realization that you were the reason for this. You made Daryl Dixon cum.
His eyes tilted back up to look at you, widened at the sight and scared of the fact that you had pieced together what had happened. Terrified that he fucked this all up. Panic took over, pushing him to stare at you blankly, doing his best to decode what was going on inside your head. Was it all over?
Instead, you bat your eyes at him, cheeks blushing from excitement.
“All this for me, Dixon?” You teased, leaning over and planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. You spoke to him slowly, making sure he heard every word you said. “Just… Make sure you return the favour next time.” Because there would definitely be a next time.
Pairings: Sam Winchester x Female Reader (Established Relationship)
Summary: Drunk and desperate for Sam, you push hard against his ironclad rule: no drunk sex. He refuses to break it, even when your persistence tests his resolve to the limit.
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Alcohol intoxication, consensual sexual tension/frustration, clothed grinding, erection mention, strong sexual tension, unresolved arousal, fluff/angst.
Also any mistakes are my own, please do not repost my work anywhere however reblogs are fine and welcome :)
If you love it, please comment and/or reblog. Let me know your thoughts! :)
**IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT DON’T READ IT**
A/N: here is the Sam version of no drunk sex!
Read part 2 here: “Sober Mornings”
The stale beer-and-sawdust smell of the bar clung to your clothes and hair as Sam half-guided, half-carried you through the bunker’s garage door. Your head swam pleasantly, the world tilting on a soft axis. All you could focus on was the solid warmth of Sam beside you, the way his arm muscles bunched under his flannel as he kept you upright. God, he smelled good – like leather and woodsmoke and Sam.
“S’home,” you mumbled, leaning heavily against him, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. You nuzzled the worn fabric, inhaling deeply. “Mmm. You smell so good, Sammy.”
Sam chuckled, a low rumble you felt against your skin. “Yeah, and you smell like you bathed in cheap whiskey, sweetheart. C’mon, let’s get you horizontal.” His voice was warm, patient, but firm. The voice that always anchored you, even when the room was spinning.
But the alcohol had melted away every inhibition. All you could think about was the strength in those arms, the rumble of his voice in his chest, the way his lips would feel everywhere. “Don’ wanna be horizontal,” you protested, your words thick and slurred. “Wanna be… vertical. With you. Against a wall? The map table?” You giggled, the image delightfully scandalous in your fuzzy mind.
Sam gently steered you towards the bedroom corridor. “Tempting offer,” he murmured, his tone laced with an amusement that only made you want him more. “But no. Rule number one, remember? No drunk sex.” He said it softly, but the finality was there. Like bedrock.
You pouted dramatically as he guided you into your shared bedroom. The dim light from the hallway silhouetted his broad frame as he closed the door. “But Sammy,” you whined, stumbling slightly. “I want you. Right now. So much.” The alcohol amplified the ache between your legs into a persistent throb.
He sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. The movement pulled his flannel shirt taut across his chest. “I know you do, baby. And I want you too. Always.” His eyes, even in the dimness, were dark pools of warmth and something else… something hungry held tightly in check. “But not like this. Not when you’re like this.”
He turned away from you, facing the dresser. “Let’s just get you into bed.” He gripped the hem of his flannel and pulled it off over his head in one smooth motion.
The sight hit you like a physical blow. His bare back was a landscape of lean muscle and faded scars in the low light, tapering down to the waistband of his jeans. The urge to touch him, to feel that warm skin under your palms, became overwhelming. The alcohol screamed now.
Fueled by pure drunken impulse and desperate desire, your fingers fumbled with the buttons of your own top. Then your jeans. Shucking them off with clumsy urgency until you stood before him in nothing but a flimsy black lace thong. The cool bunker air raised goosebumps on your skin, but the fire inside you burned hotter.
He hadn’t turned around yet. Heart hammering against your ribs, you stepped forward silently on unsteady feet. You pressed yourself against his bare back, wrapping your arms around his waist. Your breasts flattened against the hard planes of muscle. You nuzzled the warm skin between his shoulder blades, inhaling his scent deeply.
“Please, Sammy,” you whispered against his skin, your voice thick with need. You tried to make it sound cute and sexy, rubbing your cheek against him like an affectionate cat. “I’m okay, I promise. I know what I want. It’s you. Only you.” You pressed a soft kiss to his spine.
Sam stiffened for a second, a sharp intake of breath hissing between his teeth. Then, slowly, deliberately, he turned in your arms. His expression was a heartbreaking mix of affection and profound conflict. His gaze swept over your near-naked body – a flicker of raw heat flaring in his eyes so intensely it stole your breath – before settling on your face.
He cupped your cheek with one large, warm hand, his thumb stroking gently over your flushed skin. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. It was achingly sweet.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice deeper now, rougher around the edges. “Listen to me. I know you think you want it right now. But this… it doesn’t feel right to me.” He searched your eyes. “It makes me feel… wrong. Like I’m taking advantage. Even if you say it’s okay tonight, I won’t feel okay about it tomorrow.” His thumb traced your lower lip. “You mean too much to me for that.”
The genuine conviction in his voice cut through some of the alcohol haze, leaving a pang of disappointment mixed with a deeper warmth. You understood his rule, respected it even through the fog, but your body was screaming for relief. “But Sammy…” you started, your lower lip trembling slightly.
“Bed,” he said softly but firmly, guiding you towards it. “Come on.”
You crawled under the covers, the sheets cool against your heated skin. He stripped down to his boxers and slid in beside you, maintaining a careful few inches of space. It felt like miles. The warmth radiating from him was maddening.
You weren't ready to give up. Rolling onto your side to face him, you pressed closer. You peppered kisses along his stubbled jawline, down the strong column of his throat. You felt the hard jump of his pulse under your lips. “Just kiss me?” you breathed against his skin. “Please? Just for a minute?”
Sam groaned softly, a sound of pure torment mixed with desire. His resolve visibly wavered. He turned his head and captured your lips in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened into something hungry and desperate. His tongue swept against yours, hot and demanding. One large hand tangled in your hair, the other slid possessively down your spine to cup your ass through the thin lace of your thong, pulling you flush against him.
For a few dizzying moments, the world dissolved into heat and taste and the overwhelming sensation of Sam Winchester wanting you. You moaned into his mouth, arching against him, grinding your hips instinctively against the hard ridge of his erection straining against his boxers. He was huge, rock-solid with need.
“Sammy…” you gasped against his lips, rocking against him again. “See? You want it too…”
He kissed you harder, his hand gripping your hip almost painfully tight, holding you firmly against his throbbing cock as you moved. His breathing was ragged against your skin. He was losing himself in it, in you.
Then, abruptly, with a harsh groan that sounded torn from his chest, he broke the kiss and pushed himself away. He sat up on the edge of the bed, running both hands through his hair, his broad back tense, shoulders hunched.
“No,” he rasped, the word thick with frustration and lingering desire. “No, sweetheart. We can’t.” He took several deep, shuddering breaths.
You pushed yourself up on your elbows, frustration bubbling over. “But why? Look at you!” Your gaze dropped pointedly to the very prominent tent in his grey boxers. “You want me! I want you! Please, Sammy?”
Sam stood up, putting physical distance between you that felt like a chasm. He paced a couple of steps towards the door before stopping, hands braced on his hips, head bowed. The muscles in his back flexed.
“I do want you,” he admitted hoarsely, not turning around. His voice was strained tight. “God, you have no idea how much I want you right now.” He finally turned to face you, his expression raw with conflicted desire. His eyes were dark and dilated, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The evidence of his arousal was impossible to ignore. “But I won’t do this. Not tonight. It can wait until tomorrow.” He forced a shaky breath. “When you’re sober.”
Tears of sheer frustration pricked your eyes. You flopped back onto the pillows with a petulant huff, turning onto your side away from him. The thong felt suddenly silly and pointless against your throbbing need. “Stupid rule,” you muttered thickly.
You heard him sigh again, heavy and weary this time. After a moment, the bed dipped behind you. His warm body molded against your back, one strong arm sliding around your waist to pull you snugly against him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply despite the lingering bar scent.
“I know it feels stupid right now,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and soothing now, though still rough-edged with unslaked lust. His thumb stroked gentle circles on your stomach above the lace of your thong. “But it’s important to me.” He kissed your shoulder blade softly. “Trust me?”
You snuggled back against him despite yourself, seeking his warmth and solidity. His erection pressed insistently against the small of your back – a constant, frustrating reminder of what wasn’t happening – but his embrace was safe and comforting.
“Mmph,” you grumbled noncommittally.
Sam shifted slightly. His free hand came up to cradle your head. Long fingers began to gently comb through your hair, starting at your temples and working back in slow, rhythmic strokes. It was incredibly soothing. He started whispering then, soft words lost against your hair and skin – nonsense syllables mostly, interspersed with quiet promises.
“Gonna take such good care of you tomorrow… show you how much I missed you tonight… make it so good for you, baby… so sweet… just relax now… that’s it…”
His deep voice was a hypnotic lullaby combined with the mesmerizing rhythm of his fingers in your hair. The tension slowly bled out of your body. The sharp edge of frustrated desire softened into a warm ache, soothed by his tenderness and the relentless pull of exhaustion amplified by the alcohol.
Your eyelids grew impossibly heavy. The persistent throb between your legs faded to a background hum under the wave of drowsiness he was conjuring with his touch and his voice.
“Stupid… Sammy… rule…” you slurred one last time as consciousness began to slip away.
You felt his lips curve into a smile against the nape of your neck as he held you close. His fingers never stopped their gentle journey through your hair.
“Sleep now,” he whispered, pressing one final kiss to your hairline as darkness claimed you.
The bunker bedroom is quiet now except for your soft breathing and the low hum of the ventilation system. Sam remains awake beside you, holding you protectively close even as his own body still hums with frustrated arousal. The scent of whiskey mingles with the clean smell of his skin and the faint musk of desire hanging heavy in the air.
