saralee24

[saralee24]

Only Mine

find my masterlist here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 2.4k

[cw]: 18+ only, smut, jealous overprotective Jax, angst, short fight scene (if you can even call it that), car sex, oral f receiving, teasing, unfinished sex

[authors note]: I had this idea floating around for awhile and then this request inspired the rest! thank you!

“I’m sure you say that to all the ladies.” 

You were along the bar, chin in palm, blinking your lashes at the man sitting beside you. He smiled back wryly. He was pretty perfect. Clean cut, slightly muscular, no tats covering him from top to bottom, no bike sitting in the parking lot. He was a little cocky, aware of his good looks, and in all honesty, any other day he’d be the type of guy you’d usually find pretty boring. But for tonight, he’d be a welcome distraction. 

“So you’re really here alone?” the man asked, looking around as he took a sip from the glass in front of him. 

You smiled back, twisting a strand of hair into your fingers as you sipped your beer, “that surprise you?” 

“Someone like you doesn’t come around here often. Can't imagine you haven’t been snatched up yet.” 

Technically, he was right. Jax and you hadn’t spoken in days, and although the mutual silence was a regular occurrence, you somehow always found a way back to each other. It never had been made ‘official’, but it never really needed to be. You both stuck to each other like the end poles of magnets, impossible to keep apart yet impossible to stay together. You and Jax were a burning flame amongst a sea of trees condemned to an endless drought. Your love was toxic and infuriating, and it pained you both how hurtful you could be to one another. Yet for some reason, you always went back. You’d reconnect, one of you would fuck up, and then it was back to square one all over again. 

“Haven’t found the one yet”, you teased. 

He gestured to the bartender with his hand, “can I buy you another beer?” 

You smiled politely back at him, “you can buy me as many as you want.”

You picked up your drink and pulled his hand with your other as you led him to one of the quiet booths settled at the back of the bar. You spent the next hour cosying up to your stranger, soaking in the attention he gave you. He was overly attentive and extremely polite, almost a little too nice for your liking. No roughness on the edges, no fight in him. Just a gentleman through and through. You sat inches from each other, tension building as the drinks continued to appear. 

“Can I kiss you?” The man asked as he leaned in, hovering above your face. It wasn’t often you were asked to be kissed. You stared into his eyes through your long lashes, nodding in approval.

He smiled shyly into your lips as they pressed against his. He was gentle, his hands slowly moving to your waist, never straying further. 

He laid back into the bench, taking a sip from his beer. “You know I never did catch your name.” 

You didn’t want to share anything with this stranger, the anonymity bringing less questions and expectations. 

“Later.” 

You cupped his face in your hand, grazing his jaw with your fingertips as you brought his mouth to yours again.

He was nice, but the longer you spent kissing your gentle stranger, the more you yearned to be in the hands of your depraved biker. Jax was urgent and desperate for you each time you were in his arms. There was a mutual desire that turned you both into crazed maniacs when you were together. It was something you’d searched for every time you were with someone else, because nobody you’d ever come across had given you that same feeling. 

Jax had a way of turning you into the only girl in the world. Until he was fucking the next croweater who threw themselves at him the following day. 

Tonight, you were going to allow yourself to enjoy the gentlemen in front of you. You leaned back into the bench, trying to edge him on top of you as you sunk into the bench against his lips.

You were so entangled in your stranger that you never even noticed him arrive with half of The Club. It wasn’t until you were interrupted by the break in your lips as he was pulling the man off you by his shirt, forcing him to the floor as he was knocked flat on his back. 

“Jax!”

“Dude! What the fu-“ he tried to stand up, but Jax placed his shoe directly on his chest, crushing him to the ground. The man grunted under the weight, failing to pry the shoe off of him. “What the fuck are you doing!?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He pressed down into the man’s chest harder, restraining himself from crushing his rib cage all together. 

The stranger looked at you with wide eyes, trying to speak through the force compounding his lungs, “she said she was alone!” 

Jax smiled at him as he laid spread out on the dirty bar floor. 

“I don’t give shit what she said. Your time is up, pretty boy.”  

You were ashamed to admit that you thoroughly enjoyed watching Jax furious with envy over you, but you did feel bad for the innocent guy beneath his sneaker. 

“Get the fuck off him, Jax.” 

He glanced up at you, taking a long look at your flushed pink cheeks and swollen lips.

The crowded bar was now zoned in on your table, watching and entertained by the drama unfolding. Chibs, Juice and Bobby guarded the table, ensuring no onlookers got in the way of Jax’s jealous fuelled rage. 

He picked the man up by his collar, pulling him to his feet as he threw him against the wall. Jax gripped at his jaw, lifting his chin to force his eyes towards you at the bench. “I suggest you apologise for bothering my girl.” 

“Jax don’t be ridiculous-“ 

He ignored you, glaring at the man in his grasp, tightening the grip on his collar. 

“I’m sorry, okay!” 

“Not to me, asshole. To her.” 

You rolled your eyes, watching as he tormented the innocent stranger you had set yourself upon.

“I’m sorry I bothered you.” His voice cracked from the hold Jax had on his collar, draining the circulation from his neck.

Jax shoved the man off the wall, releasing him as he was once again flown across the laminate. He stumbled to regain his balance before he started running, bolting for the exit. He disappeared at the speed of light, chuckles from Juice and Chibs echoing through the bar as he ran. 

You stood up from the bench, storming off in anger for the door. 

Jax followed you into the empty, dark car park outside the bar. His hands stuffed into his pockets as he watched you slump against the brick wall, sliding down to sit on the pavement. You put a cigarette to your mouth as you searched for a lighter in your bag. You hadn’t felt tipsy until the air hit you, realising your head was spinning.

He paced over to you, crouching forward with his lighter, igniting the cigarette between your lips. 

“You’re such a prick sometimes, you know that?” 

Jax slid down the wall beside you, his legs bent slightly at the knees as he sighed to himself, lighting his own cigarette. “Not gonna argue with that.” 

He exhaled a large cloud of smoke as he spoke, “but you were basically fucking that guy in an open bar, y/n.” 

“First of all, no I wasn’t.” 

He chuckled, amused by your irritation. 

“And second of all, what the fuck has that got to do with you? You’re the one who decided to get knee deep in Ima last week, again.” 

“I told you I was drunk.” 

“And now I’m drunk too”, you protested.

He shook his head as smoke escaped his lips, fingers twirling the silver lighter in his hands. “That isn’t going to happen again.”

Your head fell back as you groaned at his promise, leaning against the hard brick behind you. “Yeah, ‘cause I haven’t heard that one before.” 

He smiled, nudging your leg with his playfully. “You know I mean it. Doesn’t matter who I’m inside, there's only one face I see.” 

You turned your head towards him, leaning your face on his shoulder. “I’m tired of this, Jax. You and your mommy issues are giving me whiplash.” 

“Yeah, well your baggage ain’t so easy to handle either.” He placed a hand over the back of your head, stroking your hair as he spoke.

You responded with a punch to his knee, swaying his leg. “You can’t just keep beating men up because they’re interested in me. That guy was actually sweet.” 

He threw his cigarette across the pavement before he grasped his hands into your hair, entangling his fingers between the strands. He crushed his lips against yours, his tongue lapping into your mouth. His fingers smoothed against your face, the feeling of his cold rings brushing against your cheek. Your foreheads connected as your eyes closed, resting silently along each other. “I can be sweet too.” 

You chuckled, playfully biting his lip. “You’re a sweet, jealous prick, Teller.”

He pulled into you once more, pecking your lips slowly before escalating into your lips, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him there in the lot, surrounded by empty parked cars in the dead of night. His hands gripped at your waist, pulling your body tighter to him, the feeling of his erection pressing into your jeans. Your hands twisted into his hair, holding his head against yours. He smirked against your lips, trailing his hands lower to your ass, as he secured his hands in your back pockets. He stroked your cheek with his nose, kissing the pink tinted skin.

“I just don’t like sharing what’s mine.” 

Your mouth found his as you raised your eyebrows, mumbling into his lips, “then take what's yours.”

He grinned, lifting you in one swift motion from his lap, standing you up against him. He pulled you across the parking lot as you stumbled drunk, trying to keep up. He led you to your car, opened the back door and pushed you flat against the back seat. 

Jax laid above you, planting himself between your legs. He angled himself between the seats, crushing his mouth against yours. His touch was ravenous, ripping the buttons from your jeans waistband as he pulled the denim from your ass. You giggled as he struggled to get them off entirely between the leather of the flat seat. You lifted yourself up, helping as he removed them. He pulled at your shirt, lifting it higher to expose the skin around your stomach as he leaned into you, gnawing at the skin in short pecks from your navel to your now exposed panties. You grasped at his hair as he claimed you with his warm mouth, suffocating himself into the fabric that covered your mound. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking soaked for me.” He groaned at the taste of your slick pooling into the cotton, pulling your panties to the side. He circled his tongue against your clit, watching you, utterly mesmerised as you whimpered at the sensation. He rolled his thumb against your dripping fold, “this pretty cunt is mine.” 

Vibrations filled your entire being as he nuzzled into your mound, lapping his tongue repeatedly against your slick, his hands lifting your ass to push deeper into you. You tugged at the roots of his blonde hair, drunken moans of his name filling the car park as you struggled to keep quiet. He pulled away, his face glistening from your juices as he smirked at you, caressing his fingers against your pussy. “You want your sweet guy to finish you off?”

Your head fell back at the taunt, “c’mon Jax, don’t- stop-”

He pulled your panties down your ass, exposing your cunt entirely. His tongue stroked you, prodding at your swollen nub, before hesitating again. “Tell me you’re mine.” 

“Fuck, Jax- I’m- yours. I’m only yours.” The words trailed slowly from your gritted teeth, your head swirling from the feeling and the beer. You chased for his mouth, drawing your hips up closer to his face.

“Look at me when you tell me.”

You used all your might to lift your head from the seat, finding his eyes staring into yours, fire blazing within them. You spoke between your sharpened breaths, trying to form a coherent sentence. “I said- I’m yours.”

“I can’t hear you, darlin’. You’re only what?” 

Your head collapsed into the leather seat, cries escaping your lips as you squirmed your hips higher to find his mouth again. “I’m yours- Jax- shit-”

“That’s my pretty girl.” 

He stoked his tongue against your clit, enjoying every moment as you pleaded through your moans for him to take you to your climax. He was revelling in your anguish as he teased at your cunt. He played with your folds again, his fingers caressing the soaking skin. 

“No other man comes near my pussy, isn’t that right?”

You groaned in response, his claim on you sending you further into spiral. “No- no one else.”

His lips reconnected to your cunt, whimpers of desperation pouring from your lips. His fingers finally found your entrance, rewarding you as he slid into your seam, pushing you towards your release. 

He muttered into your mound, “you only cum for me.”

Your body exploded at his instruction, collapsing onto his fingers as they curled against your sweet spot, his mouth soaking in your orgasm. He delighted at your unravelling, his hands travelling your body as he found your breasts, kneading into the soft skin.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Let go for me.” Your thighs shook around his face uncontrollably, squeezing his head into your cunt.

He released his hand from your mound, hovering over you as his lips laid flush against yours. He danced around your mouth, forcing you to taste your slick that covered his tongue. Jax straddled over your hips, holding himself up against the headrest of the seat as his throbbing cock found your entrance. He positioned himself, sliding between the folds, a squeal escaping your throat as he filled you entirely. 

Before he could fuck you senseless, a loud repeated bang was heard against the hood of the car, startling you both.

“Jackie boy! We gotta go!”

Jax collapsed against you, groaning in frustration. If you weren’t so drunk from Jax and the beer, you would’ve been furious. Instead you giggled, amused by the interruption, “Chib’s and his impeccable timing.” He sighed, his head resting against your chest. 

He pulled out from you, as you rushed to put your underwear back in its place. He smirked against your mouth as he kissed you one last time, parting your lips between his, "guess I’ll just have to finish claiming you later.”

read part two here

[saralee24]

"Dean—"

He looked up to see you standing in the doorway, already in your pajamas which just happened to be one of his old t-shirts. Sam had gone to bed hours ago.

"Aren't you coming to bed?" you asked him, your forehead creased a little.

"I'm not tired," Dean sighed. "I'll be fine. I should keep working on this."

You stepped farther into the room. The floor was cold on your bare feet and the gentle padding sound of your steps echoed softly. "But if you don't," you said, stopping behind him and looping your arms around his neck, "I'll be so lonely without you. Come lay with me so I can feel whole again and fall asleep," you murmured. Your body leaned in against his and you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

Dean sighed and his eyes closed, but he couldn't help smiling. His hand rested lightly on your forearm. "Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns?" he chuckled.

"Maybe," you hummed, kissing his neck. "Is it working?"

Dean laughed again. "Yes. Yes, it is."

"Oh, good," you breathed against his skin, and Dean could hear that you were smiling.

"Question..." Dean said softly. "You wearing anything else under that Metallica t-shirt?"

Now, it was your turn to laugh. "Why don't you come to bed and find out?"

"Oh, I'm definitely finding out," he said, pushing back from the table and turning just in time to see you scampering away toward the bedroom, biting your bottom lip.

[saralee24]

i’m so wet

[saralee24]

BEDROOM HYMNS BY PROSEOVER-BROS

FANDOM: The Walking Dead

TITLE: Bedroom Hymns

STATUS: Complete

ERA: Season 7

PAIRING: Negan Smith x Female Reader (No Use of “Y/N”)

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

SUMMARY: On the night of the line-up, Negan took one look at you and knew that he had to have you. What you never anticipated was just how desperately you would end up wanting him back.

RATING: Mature (Minors DNI)

WARNINGS: Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Language, Sexual Situations, Dirty Talk, Begging, Praising, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Teeny Bit of Fluff

A/N: I don’t think it’s a surprise to anyone that I love Negan just as much as I love Daryl. Needless to say, seeing JDM’s sexy ass on my screen again every week was just the inspiration I needed for this smut-fest. Hope you enjoy! If so, comments/likes/reblogs would mean the world!

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[saralee24]

Ok ! Soulmate au for The one the only JDM

The hot and cold game you feel hot when you are close to them and clod when your car away from them so imagine the reader and JDM always feeling cold until one day when he is doing a convention/panel and for the first time ever he feels warm same with the reader she needs to stand up to ask him a question……and everything falls into place

Love at First Sight

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, NSFW, assume Jeffrey is single, p in v, sexual tension, flirty texting with jdm, sex in his car, poorly written smut

"Are we pissing our pants yet?" I watch him walk out onto the stage with Lucille resting on his shoulder as he arrogantly chews his gum.

The sight of him in person lights my skin on fire and I feel like the walls around me could burst into flames.

I push my sleeves up a little, regretting my decision to wear a sweater even though it's the middle of December. I'm always cold, so I thought I'd play it safe and bundle up. Clearly that's not working out for me. I subtly wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand before wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans.

"Boy do I have a feeling we're getting close." His voice distracts me from my overthinking and I look up at him again. That signature "Jeffrey" smile stretches across his handsome face as women around me scream at the top of their lungs.

Should've worn earmuffs too, I might be deaf after this.

When he finally sits down, his eyes scan the crowd and I restrain myself from joining in with the screaming, keeping my cool and not wanting to draw attention to myself.. yet.

I study him closely for the next few minutes.. watching his body language and the way he fidgets with his hands on the table in front of him. The way his Adam's apple moves up and down when he gulps his water... The way he stares at the floor like he's on another planet when his costars are talking.

I wonder what he's thinking about.

All of a sudden, his eyes dart up, immediately colliding with mine. His expression doesn't change as he stares at me with unreadable hazel eyes.

When he realizes I'm not going to be the first one to look away, his serious face slowly turns into a knowing grin before he winks at me.

My face reddens and I subtly glance around to make sure he's looking at me and not someone else.

When I look back at him, he softly shakes his head before tipping it towards me. "You." He mouths silently.

My jaw drops faintly before I compose myself, bringing it back up into a smile before biting my bottom lip embarrassingly. My head drops, watching my sweaty hands fidget in my lap.

"Alright, next question." The host announces.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I raise my hand. Another employee hands me a mic and I stand up nervously, locking eyes with Jeff again to find that he's watching me curiously. He's casually leaned back in his chair with his hands resting on his stomach as he tilts his head at me with amusement.

I look down at my feet and try to breathe. "Um, my question is.. for.. Norman." I change my mind at the last minute, not having the nerve to ask Jeffrey what I had planned. My eyes roam up, finding Norman's. "What do you and Jeffrey like to do together when you hang out off set?"

Norman's smile widens as he looks to Jeffrey. "Should we tell her, man?" The crowd laughs at Norman's teasing before he looks back at me. "We make out." He says with a serious expression. Everyone laughs again before he answers my question seriously this time. "Nah, um.. we ride our bikes. Talk about hot chicks. Watch baseball." He pauses, still thinking.

"Then we make out." Jeffrey chimes in and the crowd bursts into laughter. He smiles proudly at himself as he stares at me.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Jeffrey asks, reverting my attention back to him.

"Y/n." I say into the mic.

"Y/n." He repeats. "Pretty name. Any more questions for us?"

Here it goes. "Um, yes. Actually, one for you."

He raises his eyebrows playfully at me. "Let's hear it."

I look around nervously and try to mentally prepare myself for the embarrassment I'm about to put myself through.

"Y/n, look at me." He demands and I turn my attention towards him again. "Just me and you right now. Ask me."

He stares at me like we're actually the only ones in the room and my legs grow weak.

"Um.. can I.. can I take you out?" I bite my lip and try not to cringe at myself, bracing myself for rejection. But, the worst thing he can do is say no.

Wrong - the worst thing he can do is humiliate you in front of a room of people and crush your hopes and dreams.

I try my best to push the thought out of my head as I wait for his answer.

"Wow, I love the confidence." He grins. "But, no, you can't take me out."

My heart drops and I feel like I'm gonna puke.

"I'll be the one taking you out." He clarifies and my heart drops again, this time with excitement. "Come here, sweetheart."

My eyes widen and I can't believe this is actually happening right now. I walk to the front of the stage and he meets me at the edge before smoothly hopping down.

Good god, he's even taller in person.

He smirks down at me, pulling his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it, and handing it to me with a dial screen pulled up.

My fingers shake as I type my number in and hand it back to him. He hugs me tightly as the crowd woos and screams.

"Don't be nervous. You are adorable." He whispers in my ear, sending chills throughout me before we both make our way to our seats.

Andy is in the middle of answering a question when my phone vibrates softly in my lap. I pick it up and see a text from an unsaved number. I click on it and my heart somersaults in my chest at the words on my screen.

Don't look at Andy. Look at me.

I look up and find Jeffrey smiling and gazing up at me through his eyebrows. My lips twist into a smirk before replying.

Maybe I'm a Rick girl.

I try not to laugh at myself as I look back up at him. He reads my text under the table before glaring at me teasingly, squinting his eyes. My phone vibrates again.

I could change that.

I silently giggle but when I don't respond, a few minutes go by before he sends me another.

Have we met somewhere before?

No. Why?

Feels like I know you from somewhere. Hmm. Maybe from your dreams. ;)

Oh you'll definitely be in my dreams now, doll.

My heart flutters and we spend the rest of the panel flirting and eye fucking each other from across the room. When the host announces that the time is up, my phone vibrates again.

Where are you staying? I'll pick you up at 8pm.

I smile giddily as I type out the address of the hotel I'm staying in. I drove two hours from home just to come ask that man a question, and holy shit was it worth it.

7:55pm...

Maybe this was a stupid idea.

I hyperventilate in front of the bathroom mirror for a good 5 minutes before I force myself to get it the fuck together.

This is what you wanted. I remind myself, taking a mini shot of alcohol to ease my nerves.

I smooth my silky blue dress down my body and apply some lip gloss before a my phone buzzes on the counter.

You ready, beautiful?

Jeffrey Dean Morgan thinks I’m beautiful.

My heart hammers in my chest as I grab my jacket and not-so-calmly rush to the elevator. I expect him to be waiting in his car for me out front, but when the elevator doors open, I’m stunned to see him standing in the lobby, holding a bouquet of red roses.

He looks up and grins from ear to ear when he sees me. My heels click against the floor as I make my way over to him, checking him out in the process. His dark grey slacks outline him perfectly and I restrain myself from staring too long, letting my eyes roam upwards towards the peppery chest hair peeking through his silky black button down. His sleeves are rolled up a few inches and his hair is perfectly gelled in place. He looks stunning.

When I finally approach him, he hands me the roses and I smile giddily.

“Wow, a true romantic.” I pretend to fake cry and he laughs, rolling his eyes. I think I even see see a little redness in his cheeks.

“These are lovely.” I thank him seriously now and he nods his head once before letting his eyes roam over me.

“You look.. absolutely incredible.”

I blush at his words as he holds his arm out for me to hold onto it. Such a gentleman. My arm slips into his as he leads me towards his black mustang parked right out front. He opens the door and I carefully slide in, shivering from the cold. The entire interior is a leather brick red and it smells like faint cigarettes and strong, expensive cologne.

When he gets in on the other side, he takes my roses and places them in the backseat before turning to face me. I take my jacket off and place it next to them, feeling warm all of a sudden.

“Hi.” He says, smiling at me playfully.

“Hi.” I giggle and my hands hide between my exposed legs. I don’t miss the way his eyes flash towards my thighs as I shift in the seat.

“You are so fucking cute." He reaches his hand out and laces his fingers through mine as we drive off.

"So.. where are we going?"

"Can't ruin the surprise, doll?"

I shrug. "I don't like surprises."

He glances at me with a smirk tugging at his mouth. "I think you'll like this one." His hand squeezes lightly around my thigh.

My legs barely part at the sensation and I look at Jeffrey, noticing the way his jaw ticks when he glances at my thighs.

"So why did you ask me out, sweetheart? Gotta admit, first time anyone's had the balls to do that."

"Why not? The worst you could've done is say no."

"And what if I had said no? Would you still like me?"

"....Probably not." I answer truthfully.

He snickers and I lay my head back on the seat, letting myself admire his beauty.

"It's rude to stare, ya know?" He teases.

"Yeah, I know." I blatantly continue staring.

"Keep eye fucking me and we won't make it to your surprise, doll."

I smile at that challenge, not taking my eyes off of him.

"What am I gonna do with you, y/n?" He shakes his head a little.

"I dunno. What are you gonna do?" I tease him and confidently place my hand on top of his on my thigh, moving it closer towards my aching center.

I look at Jeffrey and see his eyes study the rearview mirror before slowly bringing the car to the side of the road and shutting off the engine.

"You want me so bad, huh? Come get it." Is all he says before we're both unbuckling and I'm climbing on top of him.

My lips connect with his the second I'm settled into his lap. Our desperate moans fill the car, mixing with the sounds of other cars driving by.

"I want you to know something first." He breathes into my mouth.

"Hm?" I ask, not taking my lips off his.

"I don't do stuff like this, y/n. But there's something special about you. Fuck, I.. I feel like I know you from somewhere."

"Maybe we were an old married couple in another life." I tease, bringing my lips down to his jawline, then his neck before sucking at his cologne-coated skin softly.

I reach for his pants and unbutton him, puling out his swollen cock and stroking it in my hand while hovering above him.

"Fuck, I don't have a condom." He announces.

"I'm clean.. I promise. Are you?" I don't care, I'm desperate to have him in me.

"Yes, I'll pull out... Put me inside you, baby."

I line him up with my entrance and slowly slide down his full length, moaning at the fullness. He looks up at me with lust-filled eyes as I grind on his cock.

"I wanna know more about you." He whispers, his voice raspy and deep.

"Right now? What do you wanna know?" I ask in between my moans.

"Everything." He says seriously as I bounce on him, arms wrapped around his neck to steady myself.

"Uh, okay.. I love the color y/f/c. I like to read.. mmm, fuck." I moan, trying to concentrate and list the things about myself. "I can't cook to save my life."

"Keep going." He smiles looking up at me and the streetlights make his hazel eyes sparkle.

"My dog's name is y/d/n. I love music... My celebrity crush? Andy Lincoln." I tease, smiling widely while bringing my hands to rest on his knees, so I can angle myself better and ride him faster.

He smacks a hand to my ass. "Try again."

"...Jeffrey.." I moan and my head falls back when his thumb meets my clit, rubbing slow circles on it. "Dean… Morgan." I moan out on purpose before holding my head back up to look at him.

He chuckles. "Yeah? What do you like about him?"

"What's not to like?" I breathe out as I study his face. "His eyes. His hair. His beard." My gaze travels south. "His tattoos. His body."

"What else, baby?" His thumb rubs faster against my clit and my mouth gapes open.

"His attitude. His voice.... His.. his cock."

"Fuck, baby." He says and pushes his hand against my lower back, bringing me closer to him and pulling my dress down until my braless tits pop out. He takes a nipple into his mouth, making us both groan.

"Jeffrey.. I'm gonna -"

His head falls back against the seat, my nipple popping out of his mouth. "Yeah? Cum on my cock, baby."

We look into each other's eyes as I come undone, moaning his name loudly and pathetically.

"Fuuuck." He quickly lifts me up, pulling his cock from me and stroking it in his hand before his cum shoots all over my stomach.

And by stomach I mean dress. Fuck.

I laugh as we both come down from our high, looking at my cum stained dress and the puddle of my wetness on his pants.

"Guess you're coming back to my hotel, doll. Can't go anywhere like this."

I frown at him, pouting my lower lip out. "What was the surprise gonna be?"

He presses his smirking lips to mine and squeezes my ass. "Wouldn’t you love to know."

[saralee24]

JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN as NEGAN & MAHINA NAPOLEON as Ginny

The Walking Dead: Dead City ▪︎ S01E03 - People Are a Resource

[saralee24]

Soft Cowboy!Negan

THE WALKING DEAD: DEAD CITY

S1E03 ▫️ People Are a Resource

[saralee24]

JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN Don't Read The Comments | Men's Health

"I wonder how similar Negan is to Jeffrey."

[saralee24]

THE WALKING DEAD: DEAD CITY 1.02 ⚡ Who's There?

[saralee24]

i want jeffrey dean morgan to fill me up like a twinkie

[saralee24]

Imagine...Puppy-sitting

Pairing: Dean x reader

______

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[saralee24]

Spit

Read Part II

Characters: Negan x Alexandrian F!Reader, Maggie, Gabriel, Elijah

Summary: Negan and you were split from the rest of the group, and when he decides the mission is a lost cause, a fight ensues. Set in the events of S11 E5.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Warnings: NSFW - Rough vaginal sex, spitting, mild choking, very mild blood play, hate fuck, dom Negan, mortal enemies, humiliation, xtra DILFy S11 Negan, filthiest shit I've ever written tbh

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, I needed to write some Negan angst. And I'm tempted to write a part two? 😫

Negan trailed behind you as you pushed open the door to the place you knew the group would attempt to regroup at, your gun raised vigilantly in order to scan your surroundings. When you saw nothing of concern you slipped your pistol back into your holster, settling down a little knowing you'd have to spend a considerable amount of time here. Until the sound of a familiar voice put tension in the air.

"So, what? We hang around here with our fingers up our asses just hoping that the others are alive, letting those assholes catch up to us?" Negan broke the silence, and you already hoped he had never said anything in the first place.

You, Negan, Maggie, Alden, Gabriel, Daryl and whoever else may be left had been split, and unfortunately, you ended up with Negan. You'd ended up taking the same cover in a fire fight, and he pulled you with him when the two of you made a run for it.

"I'm not abandoning my friends, but I wouldn't expect you to understand that." You bit back, glaring at him with cold narrowed eyes.

Alike Maggie, you'd never really forgiven Negan for what he did that one dark night, taking two of your family like that. Abraham and Glenn were good men, more than that, and they didn't deserve to be put down in that way. It made you sick to have to visually reflect upon it, so much of that night was a blur, yet vivid in the worst of parts.

"You know what, yeah, I don't. We've got some supplies, and we don't even know if the others are alive, why not take the win now? Get ahead of those shitdicks, and not wait around here to die like sitting ducks for people that are probably already dead."

What was left of your patience thinned out and crumbled, for it was never really all that durable when it came to Negan anyway.

"Just shut up! Fuck you, Negan. They're alive, and they'll be coming here, and we're gonna wait for them whether you like it or not. So sit, down." The venom in your words couldn't be anymore potent, clear as day as you snapped and raised your voice at him.

You caught him clenching his jaw, suppressing the urge to turn this into a screaming match, and it fell silent again. Having figured the matter had been resolved or somewhat stifled you headed over to your bag and sifted through your things, making sure you still had all of your belongings, until you heard shuffling. When you looked up to investigate the source of the sound Negan was packing, gathering his bags and some of the supplies that we'd scavenged. Things people had risked and lost their lives for.

"What do you think you're doing?" You began to interrogate him, approaching him to stand with your arms crossed against your chest completely stand-offish.

"I'm leaving." He answered bluntly, a short response meant to minimise your frustration, but it only worsened.

"Not with those supplies." You reaffirmed just as bluntly, leading Negan to sigh in response.

"I'm taking 'em back to Alexandria." Negan replied plainly, every offhanded response from him fuelling the fire of your rage more and more.

"You don't just get to cop out like this, there are responsibilities. This mission isn't over."

There was no guarantee that those supplies would make it back to Alexandria in his hands, and you wouldn't let his self-pitiful attitude go unnoticed.

"It is for me."

For him, for him? It was always about what Negan needed, what Negan wanted. What about what your people wanted, what Alexandria needs? His selfish tendencies were the final step in urging you over breaking point, and so you succumbed to your irritation, albeit in a very high school way. You snatched the handle of the bag he was holding from his hand and tossed it aside, giving him a hard shove that sent him stumbling back a few steps. He responded rather hastily by seizing your forearms, attempting to dissuade you from attacking him any further. You only thrashed against his grip, grunting your frustration inbetween your attempts to pull your arms from his hold. With all the momentum the two of you began to turn, heading in an entirely different direction as Negan furrowed his brows and attempted to snap you of it.

"Stop it!" Negan belted out, his gravelly voice booming from having raised his voice at you.

It didn't deter you though, and you continued to struggle until you eventually freed yourself, slamming your hands hard against his chest and leaving him attempting to find balanced footing again. With the force of that final push a space had formed between the two of you, both of you cautious as to whether one or the other would be the first to close it, to continue fighting one another. But you did neither, just stared at one another. That dark look in his eye was swirling again, a murderous stare that you knew all too well, and you were sure you were doing the same. You were panting from loss of breath due to how much energy you had just expended, but Negan stood untempered. Negan was the first to move, beginning a slow approach that had you stepping back from him further and further. Though he moved in small steps distance was closing fast, and you felt the internal panic when you felt a hard solid wall press up against your back, having backed yourself into the hypothetical corner.

"Shit." You muttered quietly, Negan taking his final few steps until he was directly opposite you, your chest practically pressed against his. He said nothing, and his stare remained unintelligible, simply looming over you without one word.

"Fuck you." Unashamed you made one last dig at him, and alarmingly enough, Negan smiled at you.

"If it'd shut you up for good, happily." He spoke lowly, his husky words right by your ear.

The response from him so sincere and unabashed you could feel your blood boiling, and you settled with the first thing that came to mind. Gathering some of the saliva in your mouth you parted your lips slightly and then quickly closed them, spitting right in his face. He groaned as he felt the wetness hit his cheek, reaching up and wiping his face dry with the back of his fingerless gloves, never once breaking eye contact with you. To your misfortune the saliva you'd kindly deposited onto his face was not enough to humiliate him entirely, but had some of the desired effect you had wanted. Negan looked riled, though he had tried to remain complacent the faint squint of his eyes gave him away, and the subtle clench to his jaw as he stared you down. Wordlessly, he flattened his palms against the wall either side of your head, entrapping you in the position you'd incidentally put yourself in.

"Open your mouth." Negan demanded bitterly, and you felt your cheeks fill with heat, utterly stupefied by what he had just asked you to do.

"Hell no." You bit back, earning a dangerous warning stare from Negan.

"Open your damn mouth."

You stared at him firm in your decision not to, and he waited a few moments before realising you wouldn't budge, and decided to handle you accordingly. With unanticipated rapid movements one of the palms Negan had flattened against the wall he'd snatched back and used to grip your jaw, applying pressure at the sides so hard and in such a way it began to force your mouth open. Forcibly Negan parted your lips, and you whined against his pressurised touch, restrained into anticipating his next move. Gathering the fluids best he could Negan brought all of his spit to the front of his tongue and leaned in enough to the point where he knew it would land on your tongue, spitting hard into your open mouth. You coughed a little from the shock of Negan's spit flying into your mouth, some of it escaping down your throat, only earning an approving chuckle from him.

"You liked that, didn't you, me spitting in your pretty little mouth? Be honest with me, I'll know if you're not."

The fact that Negan had recognised the shift in your expression before you even knew yourself startled you, like he could see through any deception or emotions you may have. Disturbingly enough, you'd enjoyed it to some extent. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from having taken out some of your frustrations on him, and spitting in his face after telling him to go fuck himself, but other feelings had began to surface. Urges that you couldn't quite distinguish.

"In your dreams." You remonstrated, not quite as firmly as you had hoped when you sounded it out in your head.

Negan grinned in response to your obvious dismay of the way that being manhandled by him made you feel, coming to terms with his own enjoyment of treating you like this.

"Oh don't worry, you're a goddamn nightmare."

Negan slammed his lips against yours, and it was like a floodgate had been opened, emotions and chemical reactions amongst other things consuming you entirely. You moved your lips back against his, attempting to keep up with the roughness. His stubble skimmed across your skin as you decided to nip his lip a little, drawing blood and causing him to groan into your mouth.

"Shit, should've known you'd be a freaky one." Negan commented as he swiped his thumb across his lip, gathering some of the blood there and smearing it across your own.

You kissed again, a hard and rough movement of one another's mouths, smearing his blood across both of your lips. In hungry movements Negan began to gather the fabric of your shirt in his hands, putting adequate tension on the material before yanking it hard. You gasped as you felt cool air hit your skin, he'd ripped your damn shirt open, the buttons flying onto the ground beneath you and pinging against the wood floor to reveal your tight fitting tank top underneath.

"Negan!" You exasperated, swatting him on the arm from the shock of what he had done.

He only snickered from having exposed you in such a way, closing his hand around the wrist of the hand you'd used to swat him with a firm grip and slamming it back against the wall, your knuckles faintly stinging from the impact of the collision.

"Oh c'mon, you can have mine." Negan suggested, not giving you time to respond as you felt his lips again.

Negan's fingers hooked in the hem of your tank top and began to hike the fabric up, pulling back momentarily only to help yank the top over your head. He threw it carelessly onto the floor, and you decided to return the favour. Unlike him, you unbuttoned his wrinkled blue shirt from bottom to top. Meticulously sliding your fingers beneath the material at the top of his shoulders and pushing it down his arms. The moment his shirt had gathered at his wrists you reached around and pulled from the back, tossing it into an area somewhere around yours. The moments to come were spent removing your clothes as fast as you could, a desire brewing deep within your body, a vile way to feel for him. It made you sick. With your panties dangling loosely around one of your ankles, your tank top hiked up your chest just enough to expose your breasts, Negan hoisted you up. He'd discarded the light grey tshirt he wore beneath his blue one, chest now bare to expose his generously hairy chest and the beaded necklace hanging just below his collarbone. With hands gripping the skin beneath your thighs he wedged himself in the space between them, using the way he'd mushed you between the wall and himself to support you whilst he worked at the zipper of his jeans, pushing it down until it came slack at his calves. He was left in nothing but boxers.

"I've always wondered what you looked like beneath those clothes, and your body is smokin'." Negan knew that subtle tease would piss you off, and you responded by glaring at him, wrapping your arms around his neck for support.

"Don't speak, at least not right now, just fuck me. Hopefully you can prove useful for once." You rebuked, and Negan raised his brows to feign offense.

"Ohh is that so? We'll see about that."

During your back and forth snapping he'd pushed his boxers down and lined himself up with you, slamming upward without warning. His hands returned to the underside of your thighs whilst you cried out in pain, him not even bothering to ease you into it. He didn't wait for you to adjust either, moving his hips as he groaned from the feeling of being inside you. The pain eased off rather fluidly, and you were left with the most reprehensible satisfaction. Negan ground into you, totally unbridled thrusts that had you whining so pathetically you were sure you'd attract a horde, or be heard for miles.

"That's what I fucking thought, do you like this baby? You like being used huh?"

Overwhelmed with your conflicting feelings for him you unwrapped one of your arms from his neck and slapped him, a harsh hit that had Negan grumbling from the sharp pain in his cheek. He groaned and took one of his hands from your thigh, placing it on your throat with the faintest pressure, it was more an injunction.

"Keep your hands to yourself or I'll tie 'em, do you want me to stop?"

You were quick to admonish him from stopping, a hint of desperation in your tone that had you realise you were damn near begging him not to.

"No no, Negan don't stop. Please..."

He grinned at your plead, his half lidded eyes haughty with arrogance. He'd leaned forward now, his forehead tipped against yours whilst his hand remained around your throat, noses brushing as you exchanged air panting hot breath into one another's mouths. This was filthy, sinful even. The dirty feeling of being so full, full of him, the pleasure he filled you with subduing you into this breathy mess. You couldn't think about anything other than his hard and fast thrusts, your hips connecting with every unconstrained movement. The group could return at any moment, walk in on Negan bottoming you out against the wall of an abandoned house, but you weren't entirely sure either of you cared. To finally give each other something worth giving, to put all the burning hatred and distaste you had for one another to use was addicting. Intoxicating.

"Holy shit." You fell into a string of curses, your one way of vocalising the feeling of knotting in your abdomen, trembles working their way through your legs.

Fuelled by your approaching release you moved your hands down from the nape of his neck to the back of his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin and clawing your way down his back making Negan grit his teeth. Negan was agonisingly close too, his face buried in the crook of your neck and occasionally sucking marks into the skin there. When he knew he was about to tip you over the edge he moved his head back, his face coming back to lie in front of yours again. Strands of hair had fallen from his impromptu slick, cascading over his sweat beaded skin and leaving him totally disheveled. Knowing that you caused this, made him look like that was a confidence boost to say the least, and it only helped to fuel your impending orgasm. Frantically the hand he'd left resting against your throat moved up to hold your jaw, less harshly than he had before, but firm. He was holding your head to leave you with no choice but to face him directly, meeting his eye with the utmost devout attention.

"That's it baby, I wanna see you, I want to remember how you looked when I gave you the best fucking of your life." He murmured, mesmerised by the look of pleasure etched across your features.

Unsurprisingly you came undone, wholly ruined as one of the most intense orgasms you had ever felt ripped through you. Your mewls filled the room, and you squeezed your eyes shut, head aching to tip back but unable to due to his touch. He watched with unashamed inclination, basking in it as he reached his own release. With appropriate haste he removed himself from you and emptied his release onto the floor, coarse groans joining your own faded whimpers. Subsequently riding out both of your vehement highs you remained holding one another. Your legs wrapped loosely around his waist and your hair messy, the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing stabilised becoming gradually softer. Your head was resting against his chest, and he started running his fingers through your hair, wordlessly sharing this earnest moment with one another. Every part of you still hated him, wanted to hurt him for all the pain he'd caused you and the people you cared for, but you could see through your own blinding hatred for the first time in years. The feeling was only temporary, but you savored it for what you could. To be at peace.

"We need to get dressed, can you help me?" You were faintly embarrassed to ask, but your legs were still too shaky to stand on unsupported, and the adrenaline hadn't subsided much either.

"Alright." He whispered, planting a meek kiss at the top of your head.

Neither of you thought too much of it, and Negan helped you dress presentable again. He rolled your tank top down your body and helped slip his blue shirt on you, buttoning a few of the buttons and practically resembling the way he usually wore it. Then he guided your panties back up your legs and hauled your jeans up past your thighs, your palms resting against his shoulders as he bent down to assist you in order to allow you the support you needed to maintain balance. By time he'd helped you dress you were feeling a little better, doing your best to ignore the sure soreness you'd feel in your crotch soon enough. Negan pulled his pants and boxers up from his ankles, pulling his grey tee over his head and dusting off any dust and residue it'd gathered from the floor. His arms were exposed now, but it'd have to do until you found something else for you to cover up with. He was the one who caused this issue in the first place, so rightly he paid the consequences. Now fully dressed you stood opposite one another, gazing in an untold way that only the two of you would ever know the reason behind, and the door opened. Startled you turned to watch the door and had your hand readied over your pistol, Negan too readily raising his crowbar. Relieved both of you lowered your weapons and wary demeanours when Maggie and Elijah supporting a worse for wear Gabriel walked through the door, and you sighed, a smile spreading across your face. You hurried over and threw your arms around Maggie, which she more than happily returned.

"You made it." Maggie leaned back to get a good look at you, sharing a moment with you whilst Gabriel closed the door behind them.

When she noticed the change of shirt, most noticeably the fact that you were wearing Negan's, she glanced over at him, looking back and forth between the two of you.

"What the hell happened to you two?" Maggie exclaimed, both intrigued and concerned.

You opened your mouth to speak and stumbled over your words a little, causing Negan to chime in.

"One of those reaper assholes got the jump on her, and her shirt got messed up. I gave her mine." Negan explained from the other side of the room, the two of you exchanging glances as you silently thanked him for his excuse.

It wasn't a total lie, but he had bent the truth, that was for sure. There had been a tussle with a reaper in question, but you won it indefinitely, and you took cover as a gunshot flew past your head just afterwards. That's when your paths had crossed. Maggie nodded and held your face in her hands, your eyebrow and cheek had gotten busted, and Negan was worse for wear too. You supposed a rough fuck after the chaos you and Negan had gotten out of wasn't the brightest idea, your bones achy and brittle now.

"Let's rest up a little, gather our strength." She suggested and you nodded in agreement.

Maggie went on to explain to you the both fates and unknown whereabouts of the others scattered in the surrounding area, and how those presumably alive were still out there. And so you spoke simply, a sincere suggestion that you were sure everybody but Negan shared a desire to uphold.

"So we wait."

You briefly turned to look at Negan, and you could see how his eyes were faintly narrowed with his disapproval of the idea, but you could care less. And he knew you did too. You were back at each other's throats again, and you couldn't have loved it more.

[saralee24]

Hi, are u still open for request? Cause I need season 11 Negan x reader story, well maybe some smut too 😬

[Hiii! I'm so, so sorry I haven't written sooner for your request. But here it is, set somewhere between season 10 and 11. I hope you like it.]

Summary: Negan helps out Y/N to get rid of an unwanted admirer. Surprisingly for both of them, things take an interesting turn.

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, unprotected sex

"Ugh, not him again", she whispered to herself while walking the streets of Alexandria. Most people were busy repairing all the recent damages, building new homes, so she figured she would find somewhere to help. But with Robert just a few feet away from her, she wanted to disappear somewhere. Robert was fairly new to the community, he joined Alexandria a few months ago. He seemed to be a nice guy, Y/N thought at first, though he had tried several times to hit on her unsuccessfully and seemed to not accept a simple no. She was frustrated to say the least. He hadn't harassed her in any other way, although he was persistent to ask her out and she wasn't in the mood to test his patience, so she avoided him as best as she could.

But now her luck seemed to thin out. With no other option nearby, she made quick steps towards the little shack where all the tools were stored. Just as she closed the door behind her, Y/N registered she wasn't alone.

"Well, well, hello Y/N."

Negan's deep voice shook her to the core, she wasn't expecting him to be in here.

"Hi", she stammered, half-whispering.

"Are you hiding or something?" Negan asked amused.

"Matter-of-factly I am. Now could you please lower your voice?", she whispered back.

Negan smiled at her, carefully putting down the hammer onto the shelf next to him. With his arms crossed in front of his body, he looked at her.

"So, whom are we hiding from?" he whispered back.

Even if Negan wasn't a favorite among the Alexandrian people, she kind of liked him. He was hard-working and despite his past, he was friendly towards her, so she figured she could tell him. "Robert, the new one. He asked me out a couple of times, I'm not interested and he knows. Though he always keeps on pressuring me into spending time with him. I just don't want to see him", Y/N explained in a low voice, leaning against the work bench behind her, a few steps opposite from Negan.

His face turned serious for a brief second, then they could hear footsteps in front of the shack, coming nearer. With no windows - luckily or not - Negan took a look through one of the gaps between the wooden boards of the shack.

"It's him, isn't it? Fuck, he saw me", Y/N breathed.

Negan nodded, but smiled at her. "I have a plan. Do you trust me?"

Y/N just stared at him, calcuating her response. When she nodded curtly, Negan shamelessly began to moan in front of her - with that damn grin of his reaching from ear to ear. He wasn't even blinking when he upped his game with some dirty talk. "Baby, you feel so good around my dick."

He motioned for her with his fingers to take part in their little play pretend to make it more believable. Y/N gulped visibly, embarrassed to moan in front of Negan. That plan of his was insane.

"Don't go all shy on me now, Y/N, you weren't when you sucked my dick like a damn pro."

The footsteps seemed to have stopped a few feet away, at least none of them could hear them anymore.

She looked at him with big eyes, mouth agape. The balls he had to just do that with no shame made her body tingle. Just for one moment she imagined what it would feel to actually have him buried deep inside of her. This thought alone made her press her thighs together.

"I want to hear you", he added as another invitation for her to join the game, voice raspy.

"Negan", she finally breathed, testing the feel of his name on her tongue. She liked it - a lot. With hot cheeks she moaned lighty, followed by a richer one, her eyes drifting to the floor.

"That's it, show me how fucking good I make you feel. I don't care who hears us, let them all know you are mine."

Negan didn't sound so far away anymore and as his boots came into her view, she knew why.

Her eyes darted upwards, lips parted. She could smell him at this distance, a mix of hard work and his own unique scent.

She moaned again, this time because her body betrayed her, his presence too intoxicating to not indulge.

His gaze was fixed on her lips and as they continued their little play, the air between them shifted.

His knuckles lightly grazed her cheek before he looked from her lips up to her eyes, silently asking for permission.

There wasn't any second thought for Y/N, she nodded instantly and was greeted by his lips crashing onto hers. His body drove her farther into the work bench, his hands grasping her face to deepen the kiss.

Her hands clawed at his blue shirt while his kisses made her go insane with lust.

Without wasting anymore time, Negan's hands undid the button and fly of her jeans, hastily pulling it down together with her underwear. Y/N let out a shriek when he grasped her hips with both hands and positioned her on the bench. He then opened his own trousers to pull out his solid length.

"Haven't done this in a while, excuse the lack of foreplay, but I can't fucking wait to feel you", he explained while he traced his length through her folds.

"Damn baby, you're so wet for me. Did my dirty talk turn you on?"

"What do you think?" she quipped back, as impatient as Negan.

"That mouth on you." Negan laughed while he slowly sank into her.

Hungry kisses drowned their shared moaning at the feel of each other. Y/N hadn't done this lately either, she felt like being pulled up to heaven by the feel of his dick inside of her.

"Fuuuck me, you do feel so good around me", he complimented her while he moved in and out of her at a moderate pace.

"Is he still out there?" Y/N tried to make out the footsteps they heard before but the only thing she could hear was Negan's heavy breathing against her neck.

"The fuck do you care?" Negan hissed, not silencing the moans spilling out of his mouth. "They could all watch, we would give them a show they would never forget."

His boldness made her laugh nervously which bled into a rich moan with the first deeper thrust he delivered.

"Shit, Negan", she moaned in earnest now, clawing at his back while his thrusts got harder.

"There she fucking is", he exclaimed with a shit-eating grin. "That's how you should sound while being fucked."

One of his hands went into her hair at the nape of her neck while the finger of his other hand dug into her hip, so he could drive himself over and over again into her.

Forehead pressed against forehead, they groaned with every forceful push and pull. The work bench squeaked with their movements, everyone walking by would definitely know about what happened inside.

"Negan, I'm close..."

"Don't worry baby, I got ya", he moaned while he let go of her hip to draw tight circles on her clit.

The added pressure together with the insanely fucking he gifted her with drove her into unknown heights. She nearly screamed his name as she came, brain foggy with pleasure.

"Goddammit, Y/N", Negan groaned out loud before he pulled out and spilled onto her thighs.

They both tried to catch their breaths and laughed heartily at what they had just done.

Negan whiped her clean with a spare shirt he kept in his backpack near the door.

"Thank you", Y/N smiled at him.

"You're very welcome, baby. Here, let me help you down."

"I never want to come down from this high", she laughed, pulling her underwear up again, then her jeans.

"Well, then let me cook for you, make up for the lack of conversation and foreplay we had."

With an amused shake of her head she watched him also getting dressed again. "You can cook?"

"Of fucking course I can cook. I make a hell of a good pasta sauce. When we're not as short of supplies as we are now, I will make the most delicious dinner for you."

Y/N went on her tiptoes to kiss Negan. "Helping me out, making me come and also cooking for me? Who would've thought you're this talented?"

"Don't you ever underestimate me, baby. It's true what they say out there, I'm not a good man. But I'm very good with my hands."

With a hearty laugh, Y/N took Negan's hands into hers, inspecting them intently.

"I do believe you, I like your hands. And I would love for you to cook for me."

"Can't fucking wait." Negan kissed her knuckles, shouldered his backpack and, with a wink, went outside first.

His signature grin was plastered all over his face and he hoped he would see Robert just to rub the truth right into his face. And the faces of everyone else in Alexandria that despised him.

---

Taglist: @iluvneganandjamie @murphslass @negans-attagirl @you-a-southpaw-doll

[saralee24]

John Winchester dropping some time this week.

[saralee24]

One for the Road

Summary: You both want it. Who's gonna act on it first?

Pairing: John Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Language. Smut. Female receiving oral. Fingering. Light daddy kink. Age Gap (reader is 21+) Mentions of death.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Shoutout to young Whitney who liked John more than his sons. Who knew over a decade later I'd be able to write this.

You meet at a bar.

Ha. Bullshit. If only that'd been how this started. Then, John wouldn't have thought twice about you. Could've enjoyed a beer in peace and quiet.

No, this story starts with you not knowing your limits.

In the sunless city of Tacoma, a forgotten town in Washington, there's a grizzly string of murders. High School kids being hacked at a quarry. All the victims are under the influence. There's also a local urban legend of a young woman who was struck by one of the drunk high schoolers now haunts the quarry and all who drink. It's a cautionary tale about underage drinking.

Turns out it's real.

Yellow tape maps out the area, police surrounding the scene. John's here as Special Agent Dunbar and you're here as Special Agent who-gives-a-shit. The dumbass cops buy your gambit, but John ain't fooled.

“A little young to be in the field, kid,” he says, bursting the bubble that's protecting you. A flicker of your gaze goes from him and back to the blood splattered autumn leaves. A glint of light still remains in them – they're not snuff out like John's. Not yet. Whatever's got you on this path, it hasn't been enough to break you yet.

You take a sip from your Starbucks. John can smell the overwhelming amount of cinnamon and spice in it. Why couldn't people just order a regular coffee? Did everything need to be ruined by know-nothing yuppies wanting to reinvent the wheel?

“And a little too busy listen to your cheap pick up lines,” you say, tone reading-a-phone-book flat.

“Funny,” he says, “That's one helluva ego you've got there.”

“Stay out of my way.”

That's all he needs to hear. John minds his business.

And beats you to solving the case. Figures out where the corpse of the ghost is buried. Salts and burns it. A simple open and shut hunt.

As destiny would have it, you run into him again.

Different case, different state. A poltergeist in Nowhere, Idaho. It's your first time in this great state. You hate it.

“Hi honey,” you say, giving your best enthusiastic greeting. Joining John and a realtor who's conducting a house tour, you slip your hand in John's. His grip tightens to a burning vice, but you play it cool, smiling sweetly. “Sorry for being late, yoga ran a little over. These hips aren't going to unlock themself, amirite?”

The schmucky laughter between you and the realtor is enough for John to pull his hand from yours. “Give us a few minutes to feel out the house, yeah?”

The realtor nods, giving you and John some alone time. With the sound of the door closing behind him, your facades drop, entangled in a silence that would make most women uncomfortable. The grown man before you takes up enough space with his energy alone. Makes your insides wriggle. Eyes so dark they appear pitless, he's a looming figure. Hard weathered and worn. Ground by mortar and pestle. One of those man's man type. Full of misogyny and antiquated ideals.

...Handsome.

In a battle of alphas, you don't break contact nor speak first.

When he finally does talk, it's with a sigh.

“It's a-”

“Poltergeist,” you interrupt. You already know.

“Buried in the basement,” John finishes, scratching a beard with more gray in it than black. “Make that your last time cutting me off.”

“Thought I told you to stay out of my way,” you say, “you're kind of doing the opposite.”

He finds the stairs leading to the damp-aired basement. You wait for him to open the door, but that doesn't happen. He leans his body against the door. “You're in over your head, kid.”

“Kid. Please. I'm old enough where someone would think we're together,” you say, “it's a little insulting. Not because of the age thing, but because I'm way out of your league.”

“This life is bleak. A one way road with an ending already carved out for anyone dumb enough to travel it. Here's an out. Take it. Turn around and go back to home.”

You add ageist to the list of traits men like him have. Hunters are few and far between, even rarer are women. The concern would be sweet if you knew he wouldn't share the same reaction had you been a man.

It's better to placate. Belly up. Be harmless. You can tell just by the smoky smell of his cologne and the stern punch of his words that he's not going to listen to you.

“Wow,” you say, “wow, you're absolutely right. What am I doing here? Thanks!”

The dummy buys it.

Nightfall comes and you burn the corpse. This time before John gets to it.

In a bar, he sits alone with a drink. You see him before he sees you, which surprises you a bit. With a lonely beer trying to keep him company, John's somewhere lost in thought. Not in the moment with the chatter of the bar or the dated music playing, but in a distant memory. You know the look, have caught yourself contemplating loved ones lost more than you'd like to admit.

You slide a chair up his way.

“We've gotta stop meeting like this, John.” You've done your homework and know who you've been playing tag with. “If first time's shame on you, and second time's shame on me, what about the third time?”

He bites. “Third time, we're all fucked.”

“I'm beginning to think this may be preternatural or designed by fate's hand. Lemme guess,” you purse your lips, tapping a finger against them while you pretend to think deeply. A lightbulb pops over your head and you snap your fingers. “Wendigo case over in Monticello?”

He hates to admit it, but you're right. Doesn't tell you that though. “Lucky for us, I don't believe in fate.”

“What do you believe in? Demons? Ghosts?”

“And the salt of the earth that can send them back to hell.”

“What about isolation? Believe in that too? Because from my vantage point, I'd say if it weren't for me sitting here, you'd be pretty lonely right about now.”

“Less annoyed.”

“But still lonely.”

“Hurry up and ask me what you came over here for so I can tell you no.”

“In the market for a partner?”

He swigs from an iced glass bottle. “No.”

“It's easier than us running into each other. Cheaper. Not to mention safer.”

“You don't know what the hell you're asking for.”

“So what if I don't?”

“Then that means either you're stupid or childish. I can't afford to figure out which.”

“Orrrrrr that I trust you.”

“That was an easy revelation,” he smirks, “you're stupid.”

“Tell me we're not after the same demon and I'll leave.”

“There ain't a we in this, kid.”

“Yes, there is. The way I see it, we're both two stray dogs chasing after the same car. Fire on the ceiling, slitted eyes like a dragon, but you feel like you're staring into the sun,” you say, “Ringing any bells?”

That sardonic smirk of his fades and hardens to a granite line. For the first time in your encounters, John's taking you seriously. “Yellow eyes.”

You toss money on the table. Covers his tab. “Meet you back here at sunrise.”

John smiles to himself as you leave him to his lonesome. He stands corrected, had you first met at a bar, he may've entertained you.

“What's this?”

You're in the passenger seat of his car that's barreling ungodly speeds down Route 66. John, you've come to learn, on top of having road rage, is a speed demon. Oh, and he has a small collection of music he rotates through.

“It's music,” he says, “music I'd like to listen to without anyone talking.”

Ignoring his snide ways, you elaborate. “Yeah, but who?”

“You don't know the Stones?”

“The who?”

“No, not The Who,” he says, “The Rolling Stones.”

Bluesy music croons in the car and you listen intently, really digesting the sound before you give John an answer. “Didn't know they existed until now.”

He's never felt older.

“But I like them.” Your body sways along to the song. John tries keeping his focus on the road and on the hunt.

“Why do my clothes smell like this?” He sniffs the pit of his flannel. It's fresh, citrusy scent clinging to the fabric. “What did you do?”

You're reading a through his journal. It's homework. When you're not on a hunt, eating, sleeping, or training, you're reading. It's discipline day in and out for you. “I washed them.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” He furrows his brow. “Why?”

“Because they stunk. And normally when clothes smell one washes them to eliminate the putrescent odor. ”

“I didn't ask you to eliminate the putrescent odor.”

“Not verbally, no. You know, John, you've got some decent handwriting. I was expecting chicken scratch.” The man you're hunting with is kind of legendary. You're not sure he knows it, but his journal feels like a guide to future hunters down the line once he's six feet under. “Sometimes the answer is in plain sight. Kind of like the demon in Kent. It was the babysitter all along. She dropped clues that we should've picked up on at the start. So do you.”

“I can wash my own clothes.”

“You're welcome.”

“What's your stock in all this?”

John's gaze catches yours through the bathroom mirror - a little red toothbrush scrubs furiously in your mouth. With a garbled mouthful of minty toothpaste, you answer, “whutdyamean?”

“Yellow eyes,” he says. You spit froth into a sink and reach under the faucet to rinse your mouth. “A woman like you, a number of years ahead of you to make something out of yourself, doesn't give up that potential for this line of work. Not unless revenge is being served.”

Somewhere down the line you transitioned from kid to woman. You don't ask questions.

Wiping your lips on the neckline of your ratty Rolling Stones band tee (found it in a thrift shop and had to buy it) you shrug. “Sounds like you're trying to know me, John.”

“Glad to know your ears work,” he says, unlacing his boots that're stained with the night's charades. “Now you can answer my question.”

On your way walking by his bed, you snatch the remote. You're controlling the TV tonight. You're sick of sports and CNN. “Took my pops.”

“Explains it,” he says, not being able to stop his oncoming lament. “Daddy issues.”

It's not like John means so say it definitively. He doesn't mean to say it aloud at all. Just him grumbling his thoughts. The boys, they'd fuck with him about this habit. Mary, too. Always needing to say what's on his mind.

Your eyes are on him. Even with his back turned, he can feel 'em. Yup, they're lasering right at the back of his head, trying to burn a hole until you can see through his skull. He removes the other boot, not bothering to retract his statement or slide you an apology. He meant it, no need to apologize for his truth.

“When you're right, you're right.” Ain't no denying the hurt in your voice. Jesus, did women need to get so affected by every little thing? It's not that serious for the argument he knows is about to play out. If you can't control your emotions, it could cost you your life in the future.

Ignoring you, the mattress responds as he lifts himself to head for the bathroom. He prays to god you left at least 4 minutes worth of hot water. He's too tired for anything other than a shower.

But your words are a tommy gun, spraying with a ferocious onslaught. “Didn't know you got your Ph.D from the University of Abusive Fathers and Failed Husbands.”

A stray bullet strikes him in the chest.

He turns to you, ready for the war, because somewhere along the way you forgot your rank. It may be unfair, cruel, abusive, whatever, but you don't have the privilege of talking to him like how he can you. Not when it's easy to rip your head off, chew you out, make you cry, whatever he wants. Not when you're the subordinate. He's seconds from it actually, tearing you a new one. Emotions may make you weak, but you need to know your place.

It's skin to skin contact when he pivots to verbally spar you. Oh how he forgets how light you are on your feet. Bodies meeting, your skin is still damp from the shower and he can smell the 99 cent bar soap against you. It shouldn't smell so fucking good. And here you go, taking your pristine body and getting sullied by the collateral he's covered in.

There's an anger in your eyes, one that John shouldn't like the sight of so much. It's primitive of him, scratching an itch he didn't know he's had. Just one off-comment can twist you up inside and makes him wonder what you may be really feeling, beneath the false pretense of anger. How wet your must be in this moment.

“What?” you pout, standing on tiptoes and closing the distance between your lips. The hem of your shirt rides up your bare thighs on your way to him. He has to control his gaze. “Got something you wanna say, daddy?”

Temptation is a wicked s.o.b. and John knows better than to give in. It's all up to him, what happens and what doesn't. It's always been that way.

But you're damn pretty, even more so when you think you're mad. When you feel like you're right and have conviction behind those words. You're too young to know anything, but you try. He figures it's because you want to prove yourself to him. A flattering thought, especially when he knows he's not worth dog shit.

He could give you what you want. What he wants. Fuck you. Bend you over the sink, make you watch yourself call him daddy – only this time you'd be screaming it.

“We leave at six,” he says, heading for the bathroom.

“That's what I thought,” you chide, “don't think about me too much while you're in there.”

How could he? You left him no hot water, asshole.

You both don't say much after that. Life's funny, at one point John wished you'd keep that mouth of yours closed, but now, dealing with the actual silence, it bothers him. Months together and now you have nothing to say. Still mad at him, over a dumb fly away comment.

He doesn't need this shit. Soothing the ego of a fucking adult.

He caves.

“Found a diner that serves breakfast all day,” he says, eyeing you in the passenger seat. You've got on headphones connecting to a walkman you found on your travels. Hopefully he's not talking to himself right now. “That's your thing, right, eating scrambled eggs and hash browns at eleven at night?”

Take the olive branch, honey, call it a day. He can't afford to hunt with someone who's mad at him.

“If you want me to not be mad, then you apologize.”

“It's been three days-”

“If you want me to not be mad, then you apologize,” you reiterate. “Why do you owe me one? I'm glad you asked. You manipulated me. Lied about wanting to get to know me. Then said I had daddy issues while talking about my dead father.”

“-the apology horse left the stable when you mentioned my wife. Put your big girl panties on, swallow that shit down, and move on.”

“But what if I'm not wearing panties, John?”

Wait. What?

The sputtering of his mind can't handle your question. It was a sniper of a comment, hitting him with him not realizing what the fuck happened until it's too late. You beat him in the verbal sparring. And now your tone is rising until you're at a full blown scream, anger reemerging like it never left.

“Now either you apologize or you shut the fuck up.”

Well you're not getting shit now.

John cranks the volume up to the radio until it's all either of you can hear. Even with your headphones on, his shitty music plays.

He takes you to that diner anyway, hoping a little late night breakfast will cure the anger. You order a pot pie out of spite.

John drinks alone at the bar. Almost five days of coiled silence that he doesn't understand why it bothers him so much. He forgoes the beer and drinks something with a bit more bite. Dark and chilled. Straight, no chaser.

Across the bar, you dance with some random bar hopper. Your bodies move in sync to a fucking song that he showed you. The sight ain't something he's used to – you being a woman, a beautiful woman at that, lusted after by a man. Hands not John's, feeling along the length of your body. With eyes shut, you have him ensnared. Under a trance.

Sure, John's seen men flirt with you on many-a-case, he's just never seen you engage in it. And he's definitely never watched you all but fuck a man with your clothes still on like a whore.

Dark eyes heavy with alcohol and envy, he shoots back his drink and makes an exit. You don't notice.

2:32am reads the red numbers of the clock. The door opens with a slow, guilty sigh. You try drunkenly tiptoeing in, careful not to wake the old dumb dog.

You take a shower, washing off the inebriation and stilling your mind on tomorrow's... today's case. What the shit are you hunting again? You remember John mentioning but wasn't actively listening. Fuck.

The mattress, as rock hard and small as it is, feels so damn good once you lay in it. You've been on your feet all day, maybe dancing to stupid rock songs you feel corny for knowing wasn't the best idea.

“It's late,” a harsh whisper prods the black of the motel. John's voice slides into your ear so fully, it consumes the space in your head. His voice becomes your internal thought. You realize you've accidentally slid into the wrong bed. “We're taking out a Wendigo tomorrow. Where've you been.”

Wendigo! That's what he was droning on about.

“Stayed at the bar, John. Wanted to have fun,” you breathe, “didn't know I had a curfew.”

“And that asshole, the one you were dancing on-”

“Julio. And he's not an asshole.”

“Excuse me, Julio,” John says. As if that makes it any better. “Was he fun?”

“John, there are nights where you are gone and I don't see you until the Sun is up. I don't ask questions, I don't pry. You shouldn't either.”

“Right,” he says. You think it's the first time he's ever verbally agreed with you one something. You'll take it.

Body pushing to head back to your bed and not take up space in his, your attempt is in vein when his arm snakes around your waist to lock you in place. Beneath the curl of his bicep, he pulls himself closer to you, bodies fitting each other's just the right places. Your ass presses nice and good into him and you hear him groan in your ear.

“John,” you breathe, core tight and adrenaline licking at your pulse. “What are you-”

“Y'feel that?” It's a simple question pounding inside your mind. Throbbing at your temples. He doesn't explain and he doesn't have to. He's hard against you, a delicious warning of all he could give you and more.

“Mhm.”

“I bet you do,” he chuckles, “want me to say sorry?”

His fingers press between your legs, and delves into the heat of your thighs. It hitches a breath at the edge of your throat, prods a tiny squeak between your parted lips that you pray he doesn't catch. Pressure dips against the janky material of your panties. Sweet pressure that spins the room.

“I asked you a question, honey,” he says, “want that apology you've been looking for?”

You swallow the inferno inside you. “Yeah.”

“Good.” His hand disappears. “Take this shit off.”

Holy shit, this is really happening. You've thought of what this may've been like, but didn't think it would ever be a reality. Not with how stern he is with you. Not with the line you hunters walk. You don't waste a moment, working to pull off your panties. It's not to his satisfaction. Not fast enough. Never good enough for him. John's yanking them off without care of being soft. It forces your legs open for him face to push exactly where he wants to be.

No kisses, no time to ready yourself, he goes in to devour you. It rips his name from your lips. A gasp of submission and a shock of pleasure. You can feel it against every piece of you, in your veins, flowing in your bloodstream. In the dark matter of the ceiling you stare at. He tongue pushes and lightning strikes. Fuck.

He's groaning, deep and rumbling like thunder. Must know you liked whatever it is he just did because he does it again, and again, and again. The next time pushing two fingers in you to see how you respond. It's with a dirty mouth. Foul and obscene.

You come with hands over your mouth. Shamed to admit he's damn good at eating pussy. How many women has he been with where he can make you come like this without knowing your body. How long has he been wanting to do this?

“Turn over,” he commands softly. It breaks the loose string of thoughts in your mind.

“Okay,” you sigh all dumb and out of it. He takes a pillow, pushes beneath your stomach and reaches for another one. This one he stuffs between the headboard of the bed and the wall it rests against. You clench at what that means for you. At what's in store.

Teeth clenched. Unbearably so.

“I want you.” It's so beautiful in your head. Makes you delirious to hear him say. Low and needy. He can't hide it.

“Then take me.”

His hand gently slides down the length of your spine and you shiver as he pulls off.

Slow to start, he guides himself in you sweetly.

“Ohmygod.”

“I know,” he coos. Running a hand over your waist, you think it's to tell you it's alright. Nah. It's to keep you from running. He knows how big he is. You're going to, too. “I know.”

Even with his tongue having been inside you, he's shocked by how tight you are. Siphoning and wet, he's choking noises from him he's ashamed to have you hear. Fuck, he can't stop himself. “Push back on me.”

You do as you're told, ass meeting his every thrust greedily wanting to take it all.

“There you go,” he praises, “good girl. Just like that.”

He knows just how to make your brain turn to mush. Son-of-a-bitch knows you've only wanted to hear him give you an appreciative word. Could save his life, solve a case, and he gives you nothing. This. It makes you work twice as hard to hear his adornments some more. Makes you shake involuntarily, tell him you're going to come and not to stop.

Molded by primal compulsions, every push of his hips, every snap of the bed, the croak of the mattress, his grunts smearing your skin, it's driving you mad.

He pulls your body pulled into the undertow, down amongst the black where he dwells, and he uses you up. It's the closest you've felt to salvation, crying for him to tear you a part.

It's not until morning, where neither of you have the guts to break the silence, that you wonder if maybe you've made a mistake.

[saralee24]

Gamblin' Man

Summary: He’s not going to let it drop, not until he gets what he wants.

Prompt: John Winchester, in church, vibrating panties

Pairing: John Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: 3924

Warnings: sexual wagering, smut, sex toys/vibrating panties, inappropriate public behavior (in a church, and other places), teasing, edging, unprotected smut, exceptionally brief anal play, begging, dirty talk/degrading language, fluff (sorta), slight Daddy kink, age gap (reader is around Dean’s age), hunting (canon-level violence and gore).

Dedicated to @impala-dreamer who always encourages dirty John thoughts.

AO3 Link

The wet thud of the werewolf’s head on the ground was more satisfying than it probably should have been, but you and John had been tracking the pack for over a week now, so it was a good feeling to finally put them down. They had left a trail of carnage across the Midwest, leading you on a hell of a chase; you hadn’t even been sure how many of them there were.

A gunshot made you turn just as the last werewolf dropped from the silver bullet, revealing John standing behind him. You grinned, lifting up your machete triumphantly. “And you said I wouldn’t need this.”

He chuckled, walking over to the decapitated monster, putting a single silver round in his chest just to make sure. “You lost,” he pointed out.

The comment made you frown. “Huh?”

“You said it was four at most.”

“Really?” you asked pointedly. “You’re holding me to that.”

“Bet your sweet ass I am,” he smirked. “We shook on it.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“Well I wasn’t.”

With a groan, you turned away, surveying the scene. There had been six werewolves altogether. The other four were inside the house, and you knew there was no leaving until the two on the lawn were inside with them, and the whole building was torched. Luckily, the farmhouse was miles away from town, so the fire wouldn’t be noticed quickly.

John didn’t press the subject of the bet while you covered up the slaughter, and by the time you were in the truck on the way back to the motel, you could barely keep your eyes open. He waited, of course, until you were inside, closing the door and locking it.

“About my winnings,” he started.

You grunted, turning your head to look at him in disbelief. “Seriously. It was a joke, we didn’t even say how much.”

“I’m not after money.”

The way he said it gave you pause, but you were far too tired to continue with any bartering. It was nearing dawn, and you needed a few hours of sleep before getting into conversations about supposed bets. Not that he’d let it go even when you woke up.

“John, I’m exhausted. If I agree you won, can we just go to bed?”

His smirk widened. “Fine. As long as you agree to whatever I want.”

“Whatever,” you yawned, barely managing to get your pants off before you tumbled into the covers, “just lemme sleep.”

It took only a few minutes for you to doze off, just long enough for you to feel the dip of the bed as he climbed in behind you, one strong arm encircling your waist. You smiled and slipped into unconsciousness, forgetting all about the bet.

His warmth was gone the next morning when you woke to the sound of the door closing. You sat up and yawned, smiling sleepily as John as he approached with a drink in one hand and a bag with a cartoon bagel on it in the other. “Breakfast,” he offered, handing it over.

You opened the bag, inhaling the deliciously warm scent from inside. “Mmm, thank you.” Eating in bed only seemed uncomfortable, and you needed to pee anyway, so you got out, dropping your food and drink onto the table before heading for the bathroom. When you came out, John was at the table waiting, sipping his usual black coffee.

“Where are we heading today?” you asked, pulling out your breakfast.

He tapped a folded paper next to his unwrapped sandwich. “Duluth. Got a lead on something. Flimsy but it’s enough.”

Biting into your bagel, you groaned at the taste, chewing slowly to enjoy it. “These are almost as good as the ones in that little deli we found - where was it?”

“Colorado. Brent’s Bagels.”

“Yeah. We haven’t been to Colorado in ages.”

He chuckled, watching you as you ate, a pensive expression on his face like he was waiting to say something. You didn’t pay much attention to it, too hungry to think beyond filling your stomach. Once the last bite was gone, you licked your fingers clean, then looked at him properly, smiling brightly.

“You haven’t forgotten what we talked about last night?” he murmured, leaning back with one hand on the table.

You rolled your eyes, picking up your drink. “No,” you replied.

“Good. Because I decided what I want.”

The way he said it made you guess that whatever he wanted was sexual in nature and you weren’t surprised. Despite his stoic outward attitude, in private John had the capability to be incredibly kinky, and there wasn’t much you’d let him do that you didn’t enjoy. No doubt he’d thought about what he wanted a lot, and you knew when he got up to go for his bag, that he had definitely thought ahead.

He pulled something from the duffel, turning around and returning to drop it on the table. It was a rectangular box with a female model on the front, showcasing the contents - a single pair of black panties. You picked them up, reading the box, realizing quickly that they were vibrating panties.

Looking up at him, your eyebrows lifted. “Really? You want me to wear these?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Right now?”

“Twenty-four hours.”

“John -”

“I can pick something else if you like,” he interrupted, the leer on his face getting a little wider. “And I got plenty of ideas, sweetheart.”

The expression on his handsome features spoke volumes - this was probably the least of the ideas he’d come up with, and John Winchester was not short on imagination where it came to sex. You swallowed, looking at the box again, still thinking of excuses.

“I can’t wear these if we’re on a case,” you stuttered. “What if we get into a fight with something?”

He chuckled, pulling the remote out of his pocket. “It’ll only go off as long as I’m holding the button,” he explained. “You won’t even notice them.” Pulling the panties from the box, you ran your fingers over the soft material. “See,” he prompted, “inconspicuous.”

You sniffed, your hesitation clear. “How loud are they?”

“Baby girl,” he chided. “I’m a little more subtle than that.”

Fixing your gaze on him, you pulled a face, remembering just how subtle he’d been when he’d fucked you in the parking lot of a Denny’s, right over the back of his truck. “Not always.”

“I promise,” he reached out to take your hand, “no one will know except you and me.”

He wasn’t wrong about how discreet the panties were. Before you’d put them on, you’d asked him to turn them on, just to see how loud they were, and you had to admit, for how powerful the vibration was, they were fairly quiet. Once you had them on, you found them to be comfortable and soft, and though you could feel the pad of the vibrating insert pressed up against you, it was no worse than a sanitary towel.

Of course, John had to test them out. The sudden vibration had shocked you, and after only a few seconds, you felt flustered and aroused, and John chuckled as he turned them off and pocketed the remote.

A four-hour drive only provided him with more “testing” time. He’d tried every setting, taking great pleasure in watching you writhe in the passenger seat of his truck, trying to catch you off guard with it. By the time you reached Duluth, your pussy was aching, desperate to be filled by something, anything, so you could cum.

“How are you feeling?” John asked, pulling the truck into the parking lot of the latest motel you’d call home.

“I hate you,” you shivered, still panting from his last round of torture.

He laughed, and you scowled, folding your arms across your chest and ignoring him as he got out of the truck. You waited while he checked in, and when he returned with the key, he was still smirking. “Let’s go,” he ordered, grabbing his bag from the back seat.

“What’s our first stop?” you asked, still slightly bitter as you climbed out of the truck.

“All three victims were members of a local church group. I figure we start there.”

“Great.”

You hated wearing the fed suit, and having vibrating panties on underneath them didn’t make it any better, but John didn’t set them off again. Working a case made distraction easy, and you’d almost forgotten about your kinky underwear when you followed him into the church where a choir was practicing loudly. He took the lead, engaging with a priest by the name of Father Teddy, introducing himself as Agent May and you as Agent Taylor.

“Apologies for the noise,” Father Teddy said, leading you away, but not far enough that you couldn’t hear them. “Unfortunately, the good acoustics in here mean that the sound is inescapable.”

“Ah, it’s not a problem,” John drawled, all charm. His hand snaked into his pocket, and you went still, hoping he wasn’t going to -

The panties buzzed to life. You tried to keep your composure, focusing on the questions that John was asking, but after a few minutes, you were feeling the heat in your face and the wetness the vibration was provoking. There was a pew behind you, and you took a slight step back to grab it, hoping to stave off the quivering in your thighs. John’s eyes slid to you, the curve of his lips turning gleeful as you shuddered from head to toe.

Your action caught Father Teddy’s attention, the absolute last thing you wanted to happen when you could feel the buzzing get stronger, your pussy gushing in response.

“Are you alright, Miss?” the priest asked softly, reaching out one hand to you when you gripped the pew tightly to balance yourself. “You look a little flushed.”

The choir rose to a louder volume on the final chorus and you fixed a shaky grin on the elderly gentleman. “I think I need a little air,” you gasped, turning your attention to John with an urgent look. “Agent May?”

John was barely containing his smirk, and the vibration at your core ceased as he pulled his hand out of his pocket. “Thanks for your help, Father.”

The priest nodded, though he seemed thoroughly concerned with your disheveled state. “Of course, Agent. If there’s anything else I can help with, please let me know.” His head turned to you again. “I hope you feel better soon, Agent Taylor.”

Your smile was tight and you couldn’t get out of there fast enough now your composure was returning. You hurried down the carpeted walkway, bursting out of the huge oak doors with John hot on your tail, his mirth bubbling to the surface once you were outside. Whirling on him, you slapped at his shoulder, scowling when he only laughed harder.

“You’re an ass.”

“What?” he snorted through his laughter. “He didn’t know what was going on!”

“We were in a church,” you seethed, almost hissing at him. “Ugh, you’re such a pig.”

“Didn’t seem like you weren’t enjoying it,” he retorted, voice turning to a low rumble that had exactly the effect on you that he was expecting. With a strained groan, you turned away, striding to the car with the intent of ignoring him, but you’d forgotten one thing.

He still had the remote.

The panties buzzed to life, and the shock of it made you gasp and trip; the truck door broke your fall, palms holding your weight against the sun-warmed window as John turned the vibration up to max. You sucked in oxygen, the arousal you’d felt moments before in the church returning ten-fold.

John approached slowly, and you saw him look around in the glass reflection in front of you before he pressed up against your back, running the hand not on the remote down your side and over your hip. “Tell me how wet you are now, baby girl.”

Your breath fogged against the glass. “J-John -”

“Uh-uh,” he scolded, letting his hand slide around to your front, holding steady right over where the panties were driving you crazy. “You said you’d play the game, princess, and I’m not done yet.”

You moaned, unable to stop your hips rutting back against him. Even though it was broad daylight and outside a church, you would have given anything to have him take you right there. His name left your lips again, needier this time, a higher pitch to reflect the want in your core.

“You still got eighteen hours,” he reminded you, and you exhaled a shaky cry as the vibration stopped, but John didn’t move away. “How about a new deal?”

You didn’t move. “What?”

He chuckled again, grazing his lips over the back of your neck. “I bet you can’t last the whole twenty four hours,” he taunted. “I bet, you break before it’s even dark, and beg me to fuck that pretty little pussy until you can’t see straight.”

A lump formed in your throat, a mixture of your desire to get fucked and your reluctance to let him “win”. “W-what do I get if I win?”

“What do you want?”

You had no idea, scrambling to think of something, anything. “Uh -”

“Why don’t you think on it?” he murmured, lips against the shell of your ear now. “We still got witnesses to interview anyway.”

“John,” you whispered desperately.

“What?”

“Please don’t use it when we’re talking to people,” you begged, turning in his hold when he gave you the space. You looked up at him pleadingly. “I can’t… I can’t think straight when I’m horny. It’s dangerous.”

His smile dropped away, genuine concern on his handsome face. He lifted his hand, caressing your jaw gently. “I promise, baby girl. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” You smiled, placing your hand against his chest and leaning into him. “Can’t say it wasn’t adorable to see you all flustered like that though.”

You groaned, ducking out of his hold to walk around the truck to your side. “You’re an asshole.”

It took around four hours for you to realize you weren’t going to win. He’d behaved around the witnesses, though you couldn’t say the same for the trip to the morgue, after which you’d decided you needed a break, and persuaded him to let you go to the grocery store while he checked out the town’s history. The hunt was most likely a spirit, and no one had died yet, so the need to find whatever or whoever it was wasn’t as pressing.

Your hour alone was blissful, and you picked up enough supplies for a few days, finishing up way before John was supposed to pick you up. There was a bench outside, far enough away from the entrance that no one would bother you, so you took advantage of the pleasant afternoon sunshine to wait for him.

Around five minutes after you had sat down, the vibrator in your panties began to buzz lightly. Your head shot up, eyes scanning the lot for his truck, but there were too many larger vehicles obstructing others to be sure he wasn’t there. Maybe the damn thing was malfunctioning.

The buzzing got stronger, and you tried to ignore it, gritting your teeth as you clutched the edge of the bench, still looking for him. It had to be him, and he was fucking with you again, probably watching you gleefully. You wanted to get up and go look for him, but you couldn’t focus, panting heavily as the vibration only grew more intense.

Grabbing your phone, you couldn’t help the whine that left your lips, drawing a curious stare from an employee wheeling carts back to the store. You could barely type a message out, telling him to stop, and you were relieved when only a second later, the panties stopped, except your whole body was still electrified from the stimulation. Looking up, you spotted his truck, pulling out from behind a large white van; he was on the phone, smirking at you infuriatingly as he drove closer.

“Thanks, Bobby,” was all you heard as he rolled to a stop and hung up. “You look a little flustered, princess. This thing’s got good range, huh?”

You glared at him, dumping the groceries in the back before climbing in without a word. He only laughed, pulling away from the curb as you stewed beside him.

The back roads were quiet. You stared out of the window, feeling your irritation fading. John hummed along to the radio, both hands on the wheel where you could see them. After a while, he looked at you, a hint of concern in his voice when he spoke. “You know,” he began softly. “If this is really that bad, we can stop. It’s not exactly fun if you’re not enjoying it.”

You clenched your jaw then relaxed it. “I don’t wanna stop,” you muttered, twisting in your seat. “I just wanna cum.”

His eyes widened, then a smile spread across his face. “That’s why you’re all grumpy?” 

“I’m not grumpy,” you growled. “I’m horny. If I’d known it was gonna be this bad, I’d have… fuck…” You threw your head back against the seat, groaning loudly at your own stubbornness. It wouldn’t be hard to just let him win, let him fuck you, to just beg for him like he wanted.

“All you gotta do is ask,” John drawled casually, reaching into his pocket. “If you think about it, you’re torturing yourself.”

The panties came to life, buzzing against your sensitive sex. You cried out, grabbing for the door as if it would ground you, even though it did nothing as he turned the vibration up. “John!”

“Say the magic words, baby, and I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

“You’re an -” You grunted when he turned them up to the highest level. “ -aaaaass.” The word turned into a low moan, and you ground yourself into the seat, fruitlessly seeking more friction. 

He wasn’t even watching you, keeping his attention on the road. “Now I just wanna see if you can get off like this,” he murmured. “But I gotta admit,” he shifted in his seat, “I’m starting to get uncomfortable.”

Speaking felt impossible. Your whole body was alight with desire, and you could taste your orgasm, within reach. The truck moved to the left onto a bumpier road, which only added to your torment.

“John,” you groaned, too far gone to even consider holding your ground. “Oh, Jesus, fuck, John…”

“Got something you wanna ask, baby girl?”

You cried out, nodding as the truck came to a stop. “Fuck me, please, I can’t -” The buzzing stopped. “Oh -”

He was out of the driver’s seat in the next second, and you barely had time to realize what was happening before your door was flung open, and his strong hands were hauling you from the seat. You ended up on your front, legs dangling out of the truck, hips pressed against the edge as John pulled your pants and the panties down to your ankles.

The sudden realization of where you were made you panic. “John, wait, where -”

“No one can see,” he promised, shoving you down when you tried to lift up. The sound of his zipper lowering made you shudder, and you looked over your shoulder as he fisted his cock, drawing it free from his pants. “I need that tight little cunt wrapped around my dick.”

He didn’t waste time, stroking two thick digits through your slick folds and sinking them into you, groaning when he felt how wet you were. You gasped and then whined, clinging to the seat as he twisted his fingers inside you. “J-John!”

“Fuck, princess, you’re soaked,” he chuckled, working his hand back and forth. “Gonna make you cum on Daddy’s cock.” Pulling his hand free, he slapped your bare ass, then pressed the thick blunt tip to your dripping hole.

You weren’t sure if it was the constant arousal or just him, but it felt bigger than usual, the stretch of accommodating him making you struggle to think straight. He stopped when his cock met slight resistance, pulling back to coat himself in your juices a little more before trying again. This time, he penetrated you completely, and you cried out when his groin met your ass, whimpering as he held himself as deep as possible with a sigh of relief.

“You feel fucking fantastic,” he groaned, rubbing one hand over your ass. “Should get you strung out more often. You’re so tight around me, gonna milk me dry. You want that, baby girl? Wanna be my horny little cockslut?”

It was hard to talk with the pressure in your belly, the pleasure of being so filled making your train of thought completely derail. All you could manage was a grunt of a “yes”, and he laughed in return, rutting against you.

“Look at you,” he purred, beginning to pull back a little more, thrusting lightly. “All cockdrunk, ready to be used, huh?”

You nodded listlessly, hovering on the edge of your climax, sure you’d fall apart any second. John started to move faster, holding you down with one hand when he leaned back to look down and watch your body take him over and over. The sound of how wet you were filtered through the blood rushing in your ears, and you couldn’t stop your eyes rolling back.

“Lemme feel it,” he murmured, tugging his shirt up when it got in his way. “Lemme feel you squeeze me, princess.”

His strokes got harder, almost forcing you across the seat. You cried out over and over, unable and unwilling to do anything but let him use you, and within seconds, your pussy was fluttering around him, the pleasure curling into an almost unbearable throb in your core.

“That’s it,” he praised, grazing his thumb across your asshole.

The dam inside you broke. Your cries turned silent, body shuddering from head to toe as you came, feeling the upholstery underneath you grow damp. John groaned, tipping his head back, fucking into you harder and harder, leaving you dazed as he used you. Finally, he slammed into you, his grunts stuttering as you felt his cum fill you to overflowing, dripping down your thighs.

He slumped forward, panting out a laugh against your back. “Fuck,” he groaned.

“Uh-huh,” you managed, mouth slack against the seat. There was a ringing in your ears and your heart was pounding; if you were honest, you wanted nothing more than to sleep.

With a groan, he moved, withdrawing and leaving you where you were hanging. You were exposed and ruined, and despite the somewhat open area he’d chosen to take you in, it was hard to get yourself to move.

“I guess we should get on with this case,” he said, buttoning up his pants as you pulled yourself off of the seat, trying to fix your pants.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, yawning as you attempted to make yourself look like you hadn’t just gotten yourself fucked in a picnic area. Failing, you stumbled back, using the truck for some stability when your head swam. “Fuck, I don’t think my legs work anymore.”

John laughed, coming closer and leaning in to kiss you. “Guess I’m doing the digging.”

“You bet your ass you are,” you grumbled.

He grinned. “You sure you wanna be making more bets, sweetheart? I mean, I’m a gamblin’ man -”

You groaned and hauled yourself into the truck. “Never again.”

Let me know what you think ☺ thanks for reading!

[saralee24]

MELISSA MCBRIDE and NORMAN REEDUS have the most fun in THE WALKING DEAD s11 Blooper Real (via tvTWD)