Summary: Negan likes to see just what it takes to wake you up sometimes.
CW: Somno, light cnc, Daddy kink. No pronouns are used for the reader, but they do have afab anatomy.
___ ___ ___ ___ ___
Negan knows, technically- that this is wrong. Technically, he shouldn’t want to put his fingers inside you while you’re sleeping and unaware. Technically, he shouldn’t want to push his thick cock inside you and see how long he can hold out and keep you asleep before you wake up and cum all over him.
God, he shouldn’t want it. And yet, here he is, standing over your peaceful form, groping at his very hard cock and inching the blankets off you. He almost chuckles at the way you instinctively curl up a little tighter to combat the cold.
He trails one finger down over your hip and over the line of your panties. You sigh in your sleep, snuggling closer into the pillow. He grins wolfishly and trails that finger underneath the edge of your panties to play at your folds.
“Oh, darling-” he whispers to himself. “Are you having naughty dreams about me?”
His finger slides up and down through your crease, collecting wetness as he goes. You let out a little noise in your sleep, brows furrowing down. It’s when his finger rubs against your clit ever so softly that your mouth pops open, a little panting whimper escaping you that makes Negan’s cock twitch.
He continues to rub at you for another minute or so, just until you start to wake up and then he stops again. He does this several times, working you up and then stopping and waiting until you settle back down again. Every time you were worked a little closer to the edge your sleep grew a little more restless and Negan loved to see it.
Eventually, he slides one finger inside you, pushing inside with little resistance. Clenching around him, he appreciatively gazes over the way you whimper and subconsciously grind yourself back against him. He slides a second in, pausing when you make a sound dangerously close to consciousness. Negan holds his breath, waiting to see if you’ll settle back down again. He’s already pushed the limits of the depth of your sleep.
Once you relax, he starts to pump them inside you. He’s not close to caring if you wake any more, and arches his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that he knows you love so much. Oh, the amount of times he’s made you squirt from attention to that spot. Your whining grows louder, hips beginning to wiggle before you finally open your eyes, letting out a yelp that mixes overwhelming pleasure and shock.
Your instinct is to kick him off and get him away from you. But Negan knows this and knows exactly how to stop that plan right in its tracks.
“Oh, what’s the matter, doll?” Negan laughs, pressing his free hand into your thigh to keep your legs from closing. He clambers onto the bed between your legs, situating himself comfortably. You cry out, head falling back as he thrusts his fingers into a particularly good spot. “Cat got your tongue, huh?”
“Oh, fuck- Negan- what are you doing?” You pant, thighs quivering. Your jaw drops open as he shoves a third finger inside, stretching you so nicely it’s all you can do not to melt completely into the bed.
“What does it look like?” He replies, pressing a sharp and painful bite into your knee. You whine and try to knee him. He catches the rogue knee and bites down into the flesh of your thigh painfully. You chuckle out a moan and he crooks his fingers up. The man knows what he’s doing, that is for sure.
Negan presses kisses down your thigh until he reaches between your legs, his beard scratching at your soft skin. He flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit and laughs at the way you gasp, bringing your hands up to tug at his hair.
“Now, now,” he tuts disapprovingly. “Don’t be rude, baby. Daddy’s workin’.”
You groan in frustration, but it doesn’t take long before he’s flicking his tongue over your clit like he’s praying to God (aka, your pussy) and fucking into you with his fingers at the same time. He knows exactly which spots to make you come undone, and exactly which letters to trace over your clit with his tongue to make you shake around him. You’re sure whatever he’s tracing into you are absolutely filthy words, but he’s never actually told you the prayer he carves with his tongue into your pussy. You doubt he ever will.
You cum like that, on his fingers and on his tongue. And he works you through it, licking up every drop of your cum. You grow restless with the overstimulation, whining and bucking beneath him. He holds you down and forces another one, and then a third orgasm out of you.
You’re a sweaty and exhausted mess by the time he's done. Muscles twitch and your legs ache like nothing else. Negan collapses on the bed beside you and pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You grin, and capture him in a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this with you, and it wouldn’t be the last.
The both of you had acquired taste, but that’s just what made you so perfect for each other.
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Warnings: A very large age difference and of course, smut
Arriving at Negan's, I am somewhat surprised by his interior. The house is really much more unassuming than I had imagined, but I don't have much time to look around. Immediately, he grabs my upper arm and pulls me back towards him to kiss me. Without letting go of me, he slowly guides me towards the hallway. My heart is pounding like crazy in my chest. I had never had sex with a man like him before, and the whole situation is completely new to me. But I want it, and every moment feels so incredibly good. As he shows me the way, I take off his jacket and let it fall carelessly to the floor, then I start to unbutton the small buttons of his shirt with slightly trembling fingers.
With a grin, he opens the door behind me "Here we are..." he says contentedly and switches on the light switch, which is located to the right of the door.
I feel his hands wandering to my thighs and slowly pulling my dress over my butt. His right hand briefly leaves my butt and he makes a quick movement to knock something over that is on the dresser behind me. Probably a photo of his wife. In the corner of my eye, I had seen a picture frame there. What an asshole! But I don't give it any further thought, all that matters now is how incredibly his skin feels against mine.
He pulls away from my lips and looks at me intently, then he pushes a strand of hair away from my face and asks, "How do you like to be fucked, come on, tell me, little one. Do you like it from behind, or do you prefer to be on top?"
"I...I...don't know..." I say with a slightly trembling voice.
Negan laughs mockingly, "I absolutely don't believe you, sweetie."
With a skilled movement, he turns me around and with a flat hand, presses my upper body onto his bed, so that I automatically stick out my butt, which is only covered by a black thong. Then he slides his hand directly between my legs, while the other still presses me onto the bed. Two of his fingers slide over my panties and make me moan softly. He presses firmly against my vaginal entrance, which is only covered by the thin fabric. Immediately, everything tightens in my lower abdomen. I need him so desperately inside me.
"Damn, your panties are soaking wet! Would you like it if I took you from behind right now?"
"Yes!" I say convincingly, because I finally need to feel him. He gives me a slap on my butt and then turns me around so that I am sitting in front of him and looking directly at him again. My whole body feels like it's on fire and about to explode at any moment.
"But I promised you that I would spoil you first..." he says, as he grabs my thong at the side and slowly pulls it down. I lift my butt so that he can easily pull it off completely.
He grins satisfactorily, "Come on, spread your legs for me..."
I immediately do as he says. Determined, I slide a bit further onto the bed and open my legs, without breaking eye contact with him, while he quickly unbuttons his shirt and exposes his slim upper body. His dark chest hair and tattoos make him look even hotter, although I thought it was hardly possible. I watch him as I lie on my forearms in front of him and when I see him open his pants and finally stand there in just his boxers, I bite my lower lip.
"Come on, baby, a little more..." he commands, and I spread my legs even further. But I would probably do everything he tells me to do right now.
With the words, "Look at yourself, so damn perfect..." he kneels between my legs.
His beard scratches against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, and when I feel his warm breath against my most intimate area, I feel like I could climax just from that sensation alone. Still leaning on my forearms, I watch eagerly every movement of the attractive man. But when his soft lips press gently against my labia for the first time, the feeling is so intense that I completely collapse onto my back. What he does with his mouth makes me moan his name loudly. With his tongue, he skillfully traces eights and briefly touches every spot that sends shivers down my spine. But always just long enough for me to feel like I'm on the verge of orgasm. He knows exactly what he's doing. And this rollercoaster of emotions makes my body tremble.
I can't take it anymore and beg him, "Please Negan, please let me come.." as I grab his hair and press his head even harder between my legs. Finally, he focuses solely on my swollen clitoris. Quickly and with slight pressure, he repeatedly runs his tongue over the most sensitive point of my body. I feel everything tighten inside me. I arch my back and come so intensely that it feels like I can barely handle it. He immediately climbs up to my level and lies down next to me on the bed. He looks incredibly good. His dark eyes sparkle with lust as he looks at me, and his lips are moist with my wetness. Just as I am about to kiss him, he stops me by placing his thumb on my chin.
"Wait, sweetie, first I want you to sit on my face with your perfect pussy..."
I look at him in surprise. Just moments ago, I had experienced an incredible orgasm, I am breathing heavily, and my heart is racing as if I had just run a marathon.
"I...I can't do that...it's too much..." I stammer, breathing heavily.
Negan just grins at me, "Oh, baby, you can do it...Go ahead, hold onto the bed frame and just let go..."
He moves up a bit until he's lying at the head of the bed. I watch him and consider what to do, but he doesn't need any more convincing. I immediately climb onto him and slowly kneel over his face. I timidly push my hips towards him. Every touch feels so sensitive that I fear I may not be able to handle his caresses.
"Not so shy, I promise you'll enjoy it..." With those words, he grips my hips and presses me firmly onto his mouth. The bed frame was a good hint, because otherwise, I probably would have completely lost my balance. I hold onto the cool bars tightly and feel his tongue penetrating me. He gently sucks up the moisture and touches my incredibly sensitive clitoris very gently. I never thought the feeling from earlier could be surpassed.
"Yes, just like that!" I moan unabashedly, letting my head fall back. My second climax hits me unexpectedly, making my legs tremble.
I am so exhausted that I would love to just collapse into bed. But Negan naturally has other plans.
"Sit on my cock, sweetie. I want to see you push it deep inside you! But first, take off that damn dress..."
Completely out of breath, I slide further down and sit on his thighs. Then I pull my dress over my head and now sit completely naked on him. Determined, I pull down his boxers, and he helps me to completely free him from them.
I look at his erect penis intently, and the sight makes everything tighten inside me again. He is so big and rock hard. His glistening tip is moist with precum. And his shaft is covered with thick veins. Just the thought of how it will feel when it rubs deep inside me against my vaginal walls makes me moan softly. I would love to take him in my mouth right now. I don't really like blowjobs, but the thought of running my tongue over him, tasting and pleasuring him, excites me even more.
But there must be time for that later.
Determined, I grasp his penis with my hand. Oh man, he feels fantastic. I lift my hips and kneel directly over him. Then I press him against my wet vaginal entrance and slowly let myself glide onto him. I feel him stretching me more and more, enjoying every inch thoroughly. It's so intense that I close my eyes and bite my lip. Yet, I can't suppress my moans.
"No, don't close your eyes. Look at me..." he says, breathing heavily.
I immediately react to his demand, and when his gaze meets mine directly, the whole feeling inside me intensifies even more.
"Do you like it?" he asks confidently.
"I love it!" I whisper slightly louder than intended, which makes him grin contentedly. He then grips my hips and presses me completely onto him. I need a moment to get used to his size, then I start to slowly rotate my hips. I lean back, supporting myself on his thighs with my hands. Negan's hands move further up to my breasts, which feel incredibly heavy with excitement. My nipples are sensitive, and his deliberate touches make them even harder.
Now I change my position and squat properly on him. This way, I can move up and down even better. He watches appreciatively as his penis repeatedly slides deep into me.
"This sight is insane, little one...Your sweet pussy is getting everything wet...Come on, spread your legs even more...Let me see everything in detail..." he demands, and I immediately comply. My moans, his heavy breathing, and the sound of our bodies colliding fill the room.
After a short while, he grabs my upper arm and pulls me abruptly towards him. Our kiss is so stormy that our teeth clatter together. Negan turns me over with a swift movement. It happens so quickly that I only realize he is suddenly lying on top of me.
With his right hand propped up next to my head on the mattress, he uses his left hand to grab my knee and push my leg up against my body. In this position, he enters me at a completely different angle and feels even deeper inside me. I startle, fearing he might hurt me with how far he is inside me, and instinctively push my hands against his hips.
Surprised, he stops his movement and looks at me with concern. "Are you okay?"
I nod frantically and say, "Yes, yes, really...it's just...I've never been fucked so well, it's all so intense!"
He smiles satisfactorily at me and then slowly and cautiously goes even further into me. Then he rests his burning hot forehead against mine and whispers, "Relax, baby. Focus entirely on the feeling in your perfect pussy now..."
I nod slightly and his movements become even slower and more targeted. He almost completely withdraws from me repeatedly, only to slide back in with his full length.
"It's good like this... Let's come together. I want to feel my cock bring you to climax...can it do that?"
"Oh yes!" I breathe completely breathless, feeling him achieve what I never thought possible. My lower abdomen tightens in waves faster and faster.
"That's it..." he says before groaning loudly, and I feel his warm sperm shooting deep inside me. This feeling is so overwhelming that I climax intensely again.
The next morning, I wake up and have to realize where I am. My gaze sweeps through his bedroom, feeling his naked body pressed firmly against mine. Thoughts of the incredible sex from the night before rush through my mind, sending a warm feeling through me. His steady breath warms my neck. Suddenly, my heart almost stops. Hanging over the back of a chair is a training jacket with the logo of my future school. What does this mean? I quickly turn to him. "Negan, hey..." I wake him quite abruptly.
"What's wrong?" he mumbles sleepily.
"The jacket, what does it mean?" I ask excitedly, pointing to it.
He lifts his upper body wearily to see what I mean. "Why are you getting so worked up? It's just a training jacket from my damn school!"
"What do you mean? Your school??"
"The school where I am a teacher..?" he says gently, kissing my naked shoulder. Before I abruptly clap my hands over my head and push him away.
"Please let this not be true, say it's not true..." I whisper more to myself.
Negan props himself up on his forearm and looks at me in surprise. "What the fucking hell do you mean? What shouldn't be true?"
I cover my face with my palms, hoping to simply disappear.
"I think I have something to confess to you..." I whisper with a trembling voice.
Negan Smith-
-Setting an example (summery)
-Coffee and conflicts - coming soon
Neggie-
-The 5 times Maggie came to Negan for help and the one time Negan came to Maggie - (summery)
Jeffrey Dean Morgan-
-The Affair - multichapter (summery and chapter 1) and the other chapters with tumblr posts (9) (10) (12) (13) (14)
-Rock & Roll - coming soon
Denny Duquette-
-Heartfelt (summery)
John Winchester-
-Mr. Winchester (summery)
-Local Hero Takes an Unexpected Hit (summery)
-Beneath the Armor of Duty (summery) Chapters: (1)
Charlie Peters (shameless's unsung hero)-
-The Boss - coming soon
not jeffrey dean morgan fics below the cut:
General Acacius-
-The 5 Times He Stood by Her Side, and the 1 Time He Couldn’t - (summery) Chapters: (1+2) (3+4+5)
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Summary: History had never been wrong about the lengths human beings would go for survival, for pride, for love… Tory Miller never thought she would see it unfold with her own eyes, not after the end of an era, but she could understand. Now, their war was being fought in all fronts. Negan’s was for pride, Rick’s was for survival, both of them were unstoppable forces. And her war? Tory’s war was for love.
Warnings: SLOW BURN, angst, swearing, death, violence, fluff, hurt/comfort, child endangerment, general trauma, drama, mentions of infidelity and polygamy, general lack or morals, mentions of nudity, graphic sexual scenes (nsfw), mentions of blood, apocalyptic world. As always, I don’t want to give the story away in the tags, read at your own risk.
Author’s note: I know I’ve been absent for a while, because life got super hard and shit just keeps happening. Anyway, I’m not abandoning this story, ever. We’re super close to the end, I can almost see it. If you’re still around, thank you, if you are new, thank you. Let’s get this chapter!
••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •••
The Sanctuary, VA
A week and two days
Negan had been enraged to discover Gabriel was back without Dr. Carson.
One of his men apologized for the incident, he’d shot the fucking doctor when the man had jumped him, trying to escape again.
His first instinct had been to hide the information from his soulmate, she’d find out eventually, as Gabriel was back in the infirmary to get whatever attention he needed, but Negan had already planned the ‘punishment’ for the creepy, nosy priest.
The leader of the Saviors had the suspicion that maybe…just maybe, Eugene had something to do with the escape, but he also had a need from Eugene. His talent and brains were behind the whole bullet making business that Negan had in mind.
He’d pondered what to do, over and over again.
So here he was, in the dark, thinking how to proceed. He needed Eugene’s talent and Tory was in charge of his infirmary for the time being, as much as she called herself a lousy nurse, the decision as practically made for him, but it didn’t meant Negan liked it much.
“I’m disappointed Eugene, this crap was supposed to be behind us, two flushes and out the pipe.” He growled. “My doctor and that creepy ass priest jumped ship without anybody knowing about it,” Negan recalled, trying to ease his tone. “Now we have no doctor and we gained ourselves another sick soul to cure, Carson was never one of us, he was a weasel, like his weasel brother,” with a light sigh, Negan smirked. “I’m gonna get the truth out of Gaby’s ass if need be…one way or another, yes I will,” He noticed the little gulp Eugene took before speaking, though he didn’t flinch, doctor smarty pants did have a back bone, then?
“And Alexandria? What went down there?” Eugene asked with a slight waver in his voice. Negan closed his eyes for a few seconds, suppressing a groan, almost biting his tongue for it.
“Do you care?” he asked coldly, channeling his murderous persona made it all easier. Eugene looked into his eyes in silence, holding Negan’s gaze as he leaned into the table, his fingers entwined so he didn’t grab Lucille. “Do., You., Care., Eugene?” with a sneer, Negan bit out his words. “After they tried to blow you out of the face of this earth?”
Without moving, Eugene backed down. “Your message is stamped in received, and very much appreciated,”
Smiling, Negan breathed in.
“Oh well, good! You see, I got some news for you, Eugene. You, are gonna be in charge of your very own outpost,” the mulleted coward said nothing. “You see, I need my bullet maker, making bullets. Cutting a path through the dead took a toll on our reserves, so you get the honor of providing me with the bang-bang to settle this whole thing with Rick, for good,”
Eugene nodded. “All about people being resources and whatnot?”
An involuntary chuckle left Negan.
“Bullets are a last resort, Lucille here gets first dibs,” feeling calmer, Negan leaned back on his chair. “If Rick and his merry band of pricks decide to pull some shit, we gotta pull somethin’ right back that we rather not… That’ll be on them. Not you, not me,”
It took a great effort on Negan’s part, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that reminded him of what Tory had told him, that their goals were blurred after so much blood and dead and shit. The leader of the Saviors went on, telling Eugene where he was going to set him up, with whom; Negan had no need for Frankie or Tanya anymore.
And Eugene only asked for wine.
Perfect.
••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •••
After a sleepless night of ignoring the sting of hurt in her chest, Tory had decided to go to the infirmary anyway, as Harlan hadn’t given any signs of existence, not that she was expecting him to. He was supposed to be at Hilltop, as Eugene had planned.
Seeing Gabriel in the infirmary was a bit of a shock, and the flood of emotions threatened for a few seconds. Gabriel was from home, he knew Carl…
Damn it all.
Unflinching, the young woman went on her way, and started checking the priest’s health, he seemed better and his fever had broken at some point of his failed escape, he was saying something about some pills and Harlan saying he’d be saved.
“Can you see that?” Tory asked, moving the light as Harlan had taught her. Gabriel shook his head no, making the grey-eyed girl take note and sigh.
“You mentioned you took some antibiotics; do you remember what they were?”
Gabriel shook his head again.
“Harlan didn’t mention the chemicals,” the father hesitated, making Tory stop as she looked in the medicine cabinet.
“Harlan’s back? Is he in the cells?” she asked hopefully.
“No one’s told you?” Gabriel asked, his voice so little that Tory had to turn around to actually listen.
“What happened?”
“When they found us…the doctor tried to escape and-,” Tory put her hand up to stop Gabriel, feeling her eyes fill with tears, of course he couldn’t see her gesture. “he was shot by one of them-”
“I get it, Gabe, don’t… I don’t need to know more,”
“You do need to know, Victoria. We found a place, it was full of meds,” the father argued, catching her attention.
“Where is this place?” Tory asked, as imperiously as she could with her voice being swallowed by tears.
“We were on our way to the Hilltop…”
••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •••
A week and a day
It was late in the afternoon and Tory was feeling tired already.
She’d stayed the night in the infirmary with Gabriel after he’d broken down over Carson’s death, having a breakdown of her own. Her mind had fleeting thoughts about Dr. Rhodes, but she would never hurt Doveport like that, or the poor doctor. And she suspected Charlotte would never forgive her that.
Tory was unable to lie to herself, however. She stayed in the infirmary so she wouldn’t have to stay with Negan and tell him why her eyes were red rimmed and puffy, but she’d sent a message to him with Vera, that she had to monitor Gabriel and might not make it to bed. Her friend hadn’t asked for reasons, preferring the safe space of plausible deniability. Tory could definitely sympathize with that.
Whatever Negan was plotting, it had kept him away from the infirmary for the time being, and as such, it kept him away from Gabriel and Tory.
“Have you told him?” Gabriel asked, his gaze unfocused, probably unseeing, Tory wasn’t sure, but the lack of response from Gabriel’s eyes wasn’t going away.
“Who? About what?”
“Negan, about your child,” God’s man on earth indeed, seeing good in people who were not exactly good.
“No, I haven’t. It’s not…I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Tory sighed and combed her hair with her fingers to tie it in a ponytail.
“He should know. Every man should know about his child,” Gabriel continued softly, closing his eyes. “I would do something good for Negan. Knowing he’ll be a…father,”
Tory giggled at Gabriel’s sour expression.
“You sound as sure of yourself as I’m sure I don’t want him to know,” Tory sighed. “I-
The door was suddenly slammed open and Negan swaggered inside, followed by Lucas and Gary.
“Gabriel, Gabe, Gaby!” Tory flinched a Negan’s booming voice, it made her brain thump uncomfortably. “Are you ready to go into some new…accommodations?”
“What?” the word burst out of her mouth before Tory could stop it. “S-sorry, he can’t leave, Negan,”
Negan’s flat expression made her shudder when he turned to look at her.
“And why is that, wife?” he drawled, stalking up to her.
“His infection hasn’t healed, his eyes are unresponsive to stimulus, I’m worried he’ll go blind,” Tory said everything without stuttering, making herself proud, even under Negan’s narrowing gaze.
“His hands work?” her husband asked.
“Uhm…yeah, he can use them, but-”
“So, he can go help somewhere, we need the beds here free,”
“But…-” Negan lifted his gloved hand, silencing Tory immediately.
“You’ll do as you’re told, Gary, Lucas, help me take my cargo away.”
Asshole.
••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •••
Eugene seemed to like the idea of working with Gabriel as much as Negan anticipated he would. He didn’t care.
What caught his attention was the part where Eugene wasn’t going to be able to keep up with The Sanctuary’s demand of ammunition.
“See, Eugene…that’s simply not gonna work for me,” he growled, uncaring of who witnessed his loss of control.
Eugene swallowed hard.
“I think a more biblical approach for maximum fright might be in order,” the questioning tint of his words disappeared as Negan relaxed his hold on Lucille. “We could rig several medieval-style catapults, start launching arms, torsos, legs and, you know, big piles of guts over their defenses,”
Negan smiled.
“Pure psycho-ops, I mean there are some pretty traumatic theatrics there,”
“Thank you,” Negan said softly, feeling the tingling of a very good idea in the back of his head, not exactly what Eugene suggested, but…enough. “I do believe a rose just sprung from that pile of shit.”
••• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••• •••
A week.
Tory was still seething when Negan came back the night before, but instead of giving him the cold shoulder, she sank on his bed to wait for him.
She failed to wait up, still in her dress, feeling grimy despite the long shower she’d taken in the middle of the day. Her hormones were wreaking havoc within her body, and Tory wondered why, she didn’t remember these many symptoms from her previous pregnancy…then again, she had been pretty numb to everything during that time, and most of the people who’d known her back then were dead or Negan’s enemies.
For a few seconds, Tory wished that even Deanna could guide her, not to think about her dad, who knew her so…much.
Her dad.
Sure, Tory considered Tom her dad, but she did still have a father, a father who’d seen Tory’s mother through her pregnancy. Groggily, the brunette got out of the bed and into her shoes, leaving the room in haste, caring only not to wake Lucas, who was guarding outside her door.
She wasn’t sure, but Tory made her way into Roy Miller’s room so fast it almost gave her whiplash. With a couple of fast, tight knocks, the young woman waited for her father to open the door.
“Do you have any idea what-” Roy growled until he saw her arch a brow. “Did something happen?”
“I need to talk to you, Roy,” Tory demanded coldly, feeling her hopes deflate a bit.
“Oh, now you want to talk, young lady? Trying to get a fix?” Roy asked sarcastically.
Feeling her temper rise, Tory pushed her biological father back into his room and closed the door behind herself, making sure to lock it as she narrowed her eyes at him.
“First of all, fuck you for thinking I can’t manage my addiction,” he was right, but she wasn’t going to tell him. “Second, I want you to tell me something about Mom,”
Hurt flashed in Roy’s eyes at that and Tory might have felt a bit of guilt, but it was quickly stomped on.
“What is it?” he asked gruffly.
“How hard was it for mom, when…when she was pregnant with me?” the sudden shyness of her voice bothered her, but at least she had gotten the question out.
Roy sat heavily on his cot and passed a hand through his short hair in a familiar gesture that Tory ignored consciously.
“Erin…Well, she had a hard time during the first trimester, a bit into the second… why do you want to know now? It was…It was almost twenty-five years ago, Victoria,” Roy blinked blearily at her, as if he couldn’t believe how fast time had gone by.
Tory looked at the tips of her shoes before going to sit beside her father, taking his hand in hers and placing it over the hard but almost unnoticeable bump in her lower abdomen, his dark eyes widened when he caught her meaning, but Tory still said it out loud.
Summary: The reader and John live together, but when he leaves to go on a hunt, you have the apartment to yourself. During an intense wind storm, you get a surprise visitor
Pairing: John x Reader
Warnings / Rating: 18+ only please. Smut. Fluff. Possible burglar? Teasing. Extra fluffy and sexy John
Word Count: 4,171
A/N: I know John is not fluffy in canon. I just like to fantasize about a caring, fluffy John Winchester. I hope you do, too!
Beta’d by the lovely @bobasheebaby
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The couch was beginning to form an indent in the shape of your behind when you finally decided to get up and make yourself something to eat. You hummed the theme song to Dexter as you dragged your slippered feet across the tile floors of the kitchen. When you opened the fridge, you saw a post-it note stuck to the two-liter bottle of Diet Pepsi. He must have known that was the first thing you were going to reach for.
You smiled to yourself, ripping the yellow note from the plastic bottle. “Y/N,” the note was written sloppily. You could tell it was rushed, but also thoughtful. “Please don’t forget to eat while I’m gone. Something that doesn’t come in a package. I’ll be back as soon as I can. John.”
You bit your lip and chuckled to yourself, bringing the sticky note to your bra-lass chest, knowing that he really cared for you.
When you finally heated up a Lean Cuisine, even though John specifically asked you to eat a real meal, you scurried back to the couch. You set the glass of diet Pepsi on the end table, along with the steaming plastic bowl of low-fat chicken alfredo. When you sat down, you covered yourself
with the blanket that you threw to the other side of the couch. It was still warm, thank God because your living room couldn’t seem to warm up.
It didn’t take long for your dinner to cool-off, and as you ate, you flicked through Netflix to find something to watch. You’ve watched the entire first season of Dexter, you needed a break, seeing as how this was the second time you’ve watched the show. How I Met Your Mother popped up, and you decided to put that on. You needed something mindless.
A few episodes in, the wind began to howl and the tree in front of the window was quaking against the glass. You hated wind, especially when you were home alone. When you were a child, wind and thunder terrified you and that fear followed you into adulthood. You thought back to your childhood home, waking your parents up out of a sound sleep because you swore you heard a scary noise. Your mother would tell you that it was “just the wind” but you never believed her.
Now, the floors in your old apartment would creek with the smallest bit of wind. When the furnace would kick on, or the ice machine would whir, you always got scared. That was the great part about having John around. You scared easily, and he was always there to comfort you. Right now, though, you wished he wasn’t out on a hunt. It was ironic that your entire life your parents told you that there was no such thing as ghosts, or boogeymen, and now you were dating someone who hunted those things you were told didn’t exist.
You weren’t interested in hunting. You were interested in the lore, though. So you were the brains and John was the brawn. He would tell you if something came up, something strange, and you would do research on the case. Even though John was a seasoned hunter, he enjoyed the help. Usually he would sip on his beer at the kitchen table and watch you on the other side of the table with your nose buried in your MacBook.
You thought back to the first time the two of you figured out how your system would work. He was tired, he just got done hunting a Rugaru outside of Denver. Exhausted was an understatement for how he was feeling that night. He was still covered in blood and dirt, but he was gone for a few days. He wanted to stay up and spend some time with you.
The brightness of your laptop shadowed your face, the reflection of the website you were on reflected in your eyes. John smirked his perfect white teeth, and licked his lips before bringing the bottle of Bud Light to his freshly moistened lips. You noticed his smile, and looked up at him without lifting your head at all.
You cleared your throat, and looked back down to the computer screen. “Something funny, Winchester?” He smiled once more, somewhat wider this time, his dimples sinking in but barely noticeable. They had been almost completely covered by his salt and pepper beard. “No, nothing’s funny sweetheart.” You raised one of your eyebrows, puzzled by what he could possibly be smiling about. He just got back from hunting a Rugaru, alone, and now he was looking for a nest of vampires. You thought he should have been more on edge. Not John though. He always kept it calm, cool and collected.
“Just,” he paused, trying to find the right words to say, “just thinking about how we should make this a thing.” He took another sip of Bud Light.
That night was the first time the two of you made love. And it was so good, that the two of you didn’t want anyone else. It was just the two of you. You were a team.
Now though, you were lonely. Snuggling with your blanket, listening to the howling of the winds that were now getting stronger. The windows in your place were creaking, and the weather app on your phone said that the wind gusts were expected to go up to 75 miles per hour.
Your eyes widened when you saw the time. It was almost midnight. “Shit.” You paused the episode of How I Met Your Mother, got up and locked the door, turned the lights and TV off, and moved into your bedroom. You pulled the comforter of your queen sized bed to the side and slid in. You reached for your Roku remote on the nightstand as you covered yourself up with the comforter. The episode of How I Met Your Mother resumed, and about five minutes in, you drifted into sleep.
You dreamt of John for what seemed like hours before the loud crackles of thunder and bright flashes of lightning flashed through the blinds of your bedroom. You couldn’t have been asleep that long because Netflix was still playing. It hadn’t asked if you were still watching. You reached over for your phone, but it was dead because you had forgotten to plug it in before falling asleep.
You sighed and pulled the blankets off, plugged your phone in, and walked to the living room to check the clock on the cable box. 1:36 a.m.
The rain and branches were tapping against the glass. The lightning was getting brighter, and the thunder was getting louder. There was no chance in hell that you were falling back asleep, so you put on a pot of coffee and came to grips with the fact that going back to dreaming of your man was out of the question.
You missed him. You thought of him as you sipped your coffee on the couch. You didn’t care to watch any more TV, so you just sat with your legs tucked underneath you, watching as the rain drops covered the windows.
It didn’t take long for your coffee to cause pressure on your bladder, so you set the mug down on the end table and got up to use the restroom. The porcelain was cold against the flesh of your ass, so you made it as quick as possible. You turned the light off to the bathroom and made your way back to the couch until you heard a rustling at your apartment door. Panic struck and you quickly, yet quietly, ran to your bedroom, locking the door behind you.
John told you to always keep something for protection close by. He offered to give you one of his guns, but you didn’t trust yourself with a firearm. So, you made do with a baseball bat, a wooden Louisville Slugger. It was heavy in your hands when you retrieved it from your closet, and even though you had to swing it with both hands, you held it with one, grabbing your still dead phone with the other. You cursed at it, throwing it on the unmade bed. You wanted to call John, but you had no means to do so.
You had to protect yourself.
You heard footsteps through the living room, through the hall, and finally approaching your bedroom. The door knob slowly turned and whoever it was attempted to open the door but was stopped by the lock. The door shook as they tried to enter, and then you heard a deep, familiar voice.
“Princess?”
“John?!” You quickly ran to unlock the door, still holding the bat in your hand. The lock disengaged, and he swung it open as soon as he heard the lock switch.
When you saw him, dirty leather jacket and muddy lace up boots still on, you threw the bat onto the hardwood floor with a clunk, and jumped in his arms. “John.” He held you tightly as you breathed in the smell of leather and cigarettes. “You scared me,” you squeezed him tighter, gripping on to the rough leather, “I didn’t know you were going to be home.”
He set you down, but you still gripped on the lapels of his unzipped jacket, breathing in his scent. “I texted you, and called you,” he cupped the right side of your face with his palm and you nuzzled in closer to his hand. “I figured you were sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you.”
You closed your eyes and tucked your lips in. “I’m an idiot,” you said, looking down, realizing that your phone had been dead and John tried reaching you.
He chuckled, his smile slightly upturned to one side. He reached out to hold your arms and walked backwards towards your bed, gently pulling you with him. He sat down on the edge of the bed, spreading his knees to you can stand in between his legs. “Why weren’t you sleeping, princess?” He asked as he lightly ran his fingers up and down your arms, sending shivers up your spine. You didn’t respond, you just nodded your head towards the window, lightning still flashing through the blinds. “I figured,” he stopped caressing your arms and shook his jacket off his shoulders, throwing it to the ground. “That’s why I decided to drive home tonight, and not tomorrow morning,” he kicked his boots off and laid down on the bed, pulling you next to him.
You giggled when he pulled you next to him with ease. “I know how much you hate storms,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Come here, sweets,” he pulled you closer. “Let’s get you to sleep.” You didn’t want him to fall asleep before you, so you nuzzled in his neck, peppering light kisses under his ear, and along his jaw.
“John,” you whispered.
He opened the eye that was closer to you, keeping the other one closed while looking down at you lazily. “What baby?” He said quietly with a sigh, pretending to be annoyed, but you could see a smile start to form. He closed his eyes once more, one arm around you, and the other was above him with his hand under his messy-haired head.
You nudged him, wiggling your body closer into him, and he chuckled loudly causing vibrations to fill your body. “Y/N,” he said warningly, “you know you’re going to get more than you bargained for.”
You looked up at him, causing him to turn his head and open both of his eyes. His pupils dilated when he met your gaze, as did yours. “God, Y/N,” he brought the arm that was under his head over to your face, swiping back to entangle his fingers in your hair. You were both now facing each other and your heart was beating out of your chest. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He paused and you didn’t respond, you just stared at his lust-filled hazel eyes. “How perfect you are?”
You closed your eyes, and hid your face in the pillows. John hated when you hid your face, when you tried to deflect his compliments. “Woah, woah,” he leaned up on his elbow, and took his free hand to guide your face away from the pillow. “You know I don’t like that,” he said, and you stared at him blankly, shrugging your shoulders.
Your eyes were getting heavy as John held you close. The sound of his breathing and the feel of his heartbeat was like a lullaby to you. You closed your eyes, succumbing to your exhaustion. John lightly hummed the tune of a song that was familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was.
The deep, throaty humming was making your eyes even more heavy. He watched as you drifted off to sleep. “Y/N,” he said quietly, but still the depth of his voice carried through the bedroom.
“Hm?” You responded sleepily.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered quietly in your ear, not letting you ignore his compliments.
“Thank...” and you were finally asleep before you could finish your thank you.
***************************
You woke up as the light entered your blinds. The wind had stopped, as did the thunder and lightning. The ground was still wet from the rain, but the sun was finally making its way through the clouds.
Your eyes were still closed, reaching for John but you were greeted only with the sheets and pillows. When you realized he was no longer next you, you opened your eyes and quickly got out of bed. You walked down the hall to the bathroom, the door was closed and you heard the shower running, and John quietly singing. You smiled as he sang Fleetwood Mac.
Quietly opening the door, you bit your lip, trying to surprise him. Once you entered the steam filled bathroom, you shut the door, hoping he didn’t hear the click of the latch. The deepness of John’s voice as he sang The Chain brought comfort to you, but it also brought a tightness to your core. That was one of the things that turned you on about John - his voice. He could turn you on with just one word.
Once your were naked, you wanted to look at yourself, but you were unable to see much through the steam that covered the mirror.
You quickly pulled back the shower curtain, and John immediately stopped singing.
“Keep going, I love it,” you said, stepping into the shower behind John.
He was rinsing the shampoo out of his salt and pepper hair when he gripped your waist, pulling you tight and planting a long, hard kiss on your lips. “Good morning, sweet pea.” He broke the kiss and pulled you under the hot water, letting your hair get wet. “Good morning, hot stuff.” Once your hair was saturated with water, you reached for the bottle of shampoo that was on the ledge of the tub.
“Let me,” John said as he took the shampoo bottle out of your hands, squeezing some into the palm of his hands. You didn’t say anything, you just turned your back to him and tilted your head back to give him more access to your head. Once his hands were covered in shampoo, he gently massaged it into your scalp. His fingers worked in circular motions, letting it lather in your hair. You moaned when he hit certain spots on your scalp, behind your ears particularly. John smiled in fulfilment, knowing he was giving you pleasure when you closed your eyes and moaned deeper.
Water trickled down your breasts when you rinsed the shampoo out of you hair, and John watched as your nipples hardened underneath the cascade of water. You lifted your arms to put conditioner on your freshly washed hair and he took the opportunity to kneel down before you to take your exposed nipples in his warm mouth.
“John,” you gasped his name sharply and ran your fingers through his wet hair. He didn’t say anything, he just continued flicking your nipple with his tongue, and gently grazing them between his teeth. “Fuck, John,” you said his name once more, and he stopped this time, lifting you up with ease and pushing you against the wet wall of the shower. Once he had a good grip, and knew you were flush with the wall, he lifted your legs around his shoulders one at a time. If you had been any taller, your head would have been touching the ceiling.
You moaned when your legs opened around his broad shoulders, his hands on your hips so you didn’t fall. You held on to his head as he nuzzled his nose along your folds. “Baby girl, you smell so fucking good.”
“Please, John,” you closed your eyes and submitted to his touch. He opened your folds with his tongue, his hands were occupied by holding you up, and took your swollen clit in his mouth the same way he did with your nipples.
You gasped when your nub was welcomed by his warm, wet mouth. He alternated between sucking your clit, and lapping his tongue from your pussy and back up to your clit. You moaned loudly when his tongue covered your sex, up and down, over and over again. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, he would start sucking your clit once more. He removed one hand from your hip, momentarily making you lose balance, but quickly finding it when he wrapped his arm around your back, gaining control over your hips once more. Still sucking and flicking your clit, he entered one long finger into your dripping core.
“Fuck, baby,” you felt your orgasm form in the pit of your stomach, causing your cunt to tighten around his finger. John stopped sucking for a moment to look up at you and smile, entering a second finger. You looked down to meet his gaze, returning a quick smile before your eyes rolled back and your mouth opened wide as you got closer to your release. John quickly went back to working your clit with his mouth, fucking you with two fingers when he saw the need in your eyes.
Your pussy clenched tighter around his thick fingers, and your orgasm formed in the pit of your stomach. Every nerve ending tingled, and you released all over John’s fingers, covering them with your juices. “That’s it baby,” he continued fucking you with his finger as you climaxed. “Good girl.” He set you down on your feet once the aftershocks ceased. He grabbed your face and kissed you hard, opening his mouth to wiggle his tongue with yours. Your taste lingered on his tongue, and you moaned when you tasted the salty-sweetness of your own pussy.
“Don’t you taste so fucking good, princess?” He broke the kiss, and quickly reached behind him to turn the water off. After pulling back the shower curtain, he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his wet body, kissing him and moaning into his mouth. Your bodies were slippery with water, causing you to adjust and hoist yourself up against John as he carried you to the bedroom.
There was a trail of wet footprints on the hardwood floors that went to your bed. He threw you down on the bed roughly, but not rough enough to hurt you, just enough to show you that he’s in charge now. When you landed on your stomach, you went to turn around so you were on your back, but he stopped you as you attempted to turn. “No baby,” he grabbed your hips and pulled them so your ass was higher in the air. You body was cold as the warmth of the water disappeared, and goosebumps permeated your skin. His large, warm hands caressed up the back of your legs to bring warmth, and he delivered a quick slap to your right ass cheek.
“Let’s warm you up, yeah baby?” He asked as he took his bulging length in his fist, stroking himself as precum formed along the tip. “Fuck, you are just so sexy,” he leaned over you, biting down on your neck, your shoulder, and kissing down your back. When his lips reached your ass, he bit that as well, making you shriek and giggle. He stopped stroking himself to push your legs open by your knees.
Lightly tracing his fingers along your folds, you wiggled your hips, trying to get him to deliver a firmer touch. “John,” you whimpered. “Please.”
His cock was still in his fist when he ran the velvety tip from your ass, down to your clit, and back up again. “Fuck, fuck,” your breathing was picking up, and you didn’t know how much longer you could take the teasing.
“Tell me what you want, baby girl,” John said, his voice was rough and sultry. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was smiling.
“Fuck me,” you said weakly and desperate. You turned your head to your shoulder, trying to get a visual of him in your peripheral. “Please John.”
And finally he buried his long thick cock deep into your dripping cunt with one thrust. You shrieked loudly as he hit your g-spot. He quickly withdrew his cock completely, running his hand up your spine. Once he reached your scalp, he took a handful of your hair, pulling your head back. Without releasing his grip of your hair, he buried himself inside you once more.
“John,” you said with a loud moan. “Please, please fuck me faster.”
He didn’t thrust, he didn’t move. He just kept his cock inside you, and it felt like he was in your stomach. “You want me to fuck you fast, Y/N?” He thrusted, but he was moving painfully slow.
“Yes!” You shouted, but he didn’t pick up the pace. “Please!”
“You’re going to have to ask nicer than that, baby girl,” he said, still moving at the same pace.
You moaned, grinding your hips up and down, trying to find some relief. John withdrew again, pulling your hair harder and delivering a hard slap to your ass. “I said ask nicely, Y/N.” You gasped in pain and pleasure as his grip on your hair got tighter.
“John,” you breathed in loudly. “Please, please fuck me,” he ran the head of his cock up and down your sex again, enjoying every minute of his teasing.
“That’s more like it.” He submerged his cock deep into your core again, this time thrusting harder, faster and deeper. He hit your g-spot with each thrust, and he let out a croaky grunt when you squeezed around his shaft.
The ramming of his length became too much to handle, and you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t moan. All you could do was clutch the sheets with white knuckles.
He didn’t stop fucking you when you went silent; he knew this was a sign that you were getting close to climax. “Don’t cum yet, baby.” You moaned out in frustration. You were just about to ask permission to cum.
You pressed your body closer to him, allowing him to bury himself deeper inside you. “Fuck, Y/N, your pussy is dripping.” He grunted, fucking you faster now. “You are so fucking close, huh?”
“Yes!” You cried out as he fucked you. “Please!”
“Okay baby,” his thrusts were rapid, and you moaned, almost screaming. “Cum with me.”
Within seconds your pussy convulsed in another orgasm. You moaned, screamed and cried out in pleasure and then you felt his warm seed pool in the small of your back.
He didn’t say anything, he just lightly tapped on your butt before walking away to get you a towel and a warm washcloth. John wiped the pool of his cum off your back with the dry towel, and gently wiped your folds and thighs with the warm washcloth.
Once you were both cleaned up, he grabbed a pair of boxers out of your dresser, and laid down next to you. You were facing him, laying naked on your side and he gently ran his fingers up and down your back.
He smiled when you smiled at him, leaning in to kiss you gently. “You really are stunning, Y/N,” John said quietly, almost a whisper. “You’re never going to change my mind.”
You rolled your eyes and nuzzled into him, breathing in his scent of body wash and sweat. You loved the way he smelled. Even when he smelled like whiskey, or cigarettes. He was home to you, and every time you smelled him, you were warm, happy and content.
“I love you, John.”
He closed his eyes, because he loved you too, sometimes so much it hurt. He kissed your lips deeply and lovingly. “I love you too, honey.” He gently pushed your chin up so you were looking in each others eyes. “More than you’ll ever know.”
A/N- I had this dream and I thought it would be great for a fic. So here it is. It was written on the span of 3 hours at 2 in the morning. It is garbage. Like me.
Summary- You're on a road trip and just happen to stop at a hotel at the wrong time. You weren't expecting it to be under attack or to meet the man of your dreams.
Warning- murder, blood, cursing.
A/N- this will most likely be a series. Idk how long.
@tbhimprobablylost1613
Something was immediately off. You felt it in the air around you. The men in all black with ear pieces in and carrying huge bags. It wasn't right.
Looking around the hotel lobby, there were more and more entering through the front doors, and you noticed a few guns placed in their belts. As soon as you saw a man take out a large piece of metal and stuck it through the door handles, you pulled out your phone, dialing 911.
Explaining what was going on, you quickly exited through a door, leading down a hallway, shoving your phone deep in your bra. You start to run as fast as you could towards the back exit, hoping to get out, but not such luck.
As you make a bealine around a corner, you run into a large man, tumbling down on your ass. "Mph..fuck." looking up, your met with a tall man wrapped in leather and a salt and pepper beard. Looking into those hazel, eyes, your heart leapt to your throat. "Oh my god." You gently breath out, "You're JDM." Mentally smacking yourself, you rush to your feet and he places his hands on your elbows to help while chuckling.
"Yeah, that's me, Darlin'. Whatcha' runnin' for?" Asking as he licks his bottom lip, you quickly remember what's happening. The look of pure horror and panick washes over your face and Jeffrey notices by the way his eyebrows twitch.
"I-um..." Y/N, this is not a time for stuttering! Your brain screams at you. Letting your brian take over, you kick away your nerves as best as you can. "The hotel is about to be under attack. The police are on the way. We need to leave now."
Obviously a little confused, he blinks a few times, "What?"
Rolling your eyes, you sigh angrily, "There's men in the lobby who just blocked the door and have large bags. They have ear pieces and it's fishy. I called the fucking cops and we need to fucking leave before we get stuck in this shit!" Finishing off with no more breath, you grab him by his leather coated arm, pulling him down the hallway.
Having no idea what Jeffrey is saying, you almost reach the door before he pulls against you, making you turn around, "Hey, hey!" He yells "I need you to calm the fuck down and explain better!"
"Look, man! They have fucking guns and the front door is blocked. We. Need. To. Fucking. Go." Gritting your teeth together you look him dead in the eye, jumping when gun shots and screams rang out. "We need to leave. Now." Your voice was deeper, more serious as you spoke, and recognition appeared on his face
Swallowing, he nodded, "Okay. Just stay behind me." Latching onto your hand, he grips it tightly and it takes all the strength in you to not melt in a puddle by how warm and large his hands are.
You both reach the door and Jeffery tries pushing it open, but something is holding it in place, "Son of a bitch." His hand tightened slightly around yours as he thought for a moment. "Stay back." He pushes gently on your sromach and you step back. More gun shots are fired, and you jump at the noise. Watching as his leg went up, about to kick the door down, your whimpering voice stopped him.
You knew what it was when it pressed to the back of your skull, the cool metal poking your skin. "Jeffrey..." your voice came out weak and scared, a little shakey. The moment he heard your voice, he turned on his heel, now facing you with a gun to your head.
"Don't you fuckin' touch her." He growls, eyes becoming darker as each moment passes.
"Oh, don't worry, I won't touch a hair on her pretty little head." The man behind you bites back, running a hand down your side, "but that won't stop me from touching other things." His hand goes to your ass and your anger finally kicks in, saying 'fuck you' to fear.
Jeffery's body was tence. Chest heaving and hands clenched. He wasn't happy and you knew it, but you looked him in his eyes, gently nodding, letting him know you had it under control. Your eyes roamed over to the wall where a fire alarm was, in a glass box. If you could just get him over there, you could break it and get away.
Jeffery seemed to follow your eyes and he gave you a nod, letting you know he was on board with whatever plan you had.
You move your body to the right, trying to get out of his grip, which you do a little, managing to only get so far until he pushes you against the wall right beside of the fire alarm. You bite your lip at the force of impact, groaning a little as your head aches. The man cackles out a laugh and both you and Jeffrey grimace.
"Bad girl." He smirks, putting the gun into his belt. He now uses both hands to grip your hips and keeping you still. In a matter of seconds, youre taking your thumbs and pushing them into his eyes, pressing as hard as you can and blood trickles down his face. He snatches his hands away to grab at yours, crying out in pain when he grips your wrists. Pulling one hand away, you break the glass with your fist, grabbing whatever piece you can find, clenching it hard.
There was only a few places you could actually stab him with the glass and you weren't about to be some stupid bitch in a movie who stabs him in the leg. It wouldn't go in his side because of the thick jacket he was wearing. So the only possible place would be the chest, stomach, or neck. Either way, this dude was going to most likely die.
Gripping with all your strength, you slam it into his chest, and the glass slices your palm open wide. Jeffrey is by your side in an instant, pulling him away and pushing him to the ground, kicking him in his face, knocking him out. Jeffery grabs the guys gun, tucking it in the back of his pants.
You lean your head back on the wall, sliding down, falling once again on your ass. Your legs are spread in front of you and you don't even care if Jeffrey can see up your short skirt. Your hand is burning intensely and blood is still flowing out of it, so you clench your hand back into a fist.
Jeffrey is busy patting the man down, finding another gun and a pocket knife. You take the short moment to take in his form. Mentally laughing about how all the times you read about this exact moment in fan fiction. But you eyes land on his thighs in the black denim, squatted down. He stashed the knife in his boot and slides the gun over to you, still keeping his back turned. You pick it up, giggling at how it was like a scene from a movie. You do the same as him, tucking it in the back of your skirt, happy it was a little too tight around your waist, making the gun fit smoothly.
When he turns around, his hazel eyes soften when they land on you. You look down, noticing how blood has now dripped onto your legs, and is probably now everywhere else. You gently smile at him and he smiles back, moving to sit on his knees between your legs. He cupps your cheek in his hand, checking your face for anything. You can't help but smile at him when his thumb brushes a tear that slips down your cheek.
He smiles down at and places a kiss on your head. "I never caught your name." He says with the slightest since of humor, handing you a bandanna, wrapping it around your hand. You wince at the pain, but tell him to continue.
"It's Y/N Y/L/N. And will you take a picture with me?" You ask, tilting your head to the side, a little laugh coming from your lips.
"Why the hell not?" Jeffrey chuckles and you pull your phone free from your bra. "Here. Let me." He takes your phone from you and swipes over to the camera. When he holds it up, you can't help but cringe at your appearance. Blood had splattered on your face, but your makeup was still intact. You both smile as he snaps the picture, handing you back your phone, letting you stuff it back in your bra.
"You okay?" He asks, concern clear in his voice, but not pressing too hard.
"I mean, I just jabbed a dudes eye balls out and Stabbed him, so, as okay as I'm gonna be." You glance over at his lifeless form, feeling a bit ill ass you now actually take in the fact that there is a dead man infront of you and you're covered in his blood. You knock off the feeling, clearing your throat, "I think we should leave. They'll be coming soon to clear the area."
Jeffery helps you up, making sure your steady, keeping a hand on your waist. "I think for right now, i's gonna' be tough, but yah gotta keep them feelin's away, Y/N. I don't fuckin' know what kinda shit we're gonna' have to do." His voice is sincere and rough all at the same time, and it makes your heart melt, but it's not the time for that, but you just nod, mumbling "I know."
You know he's right. Who know's what's gonna happen, who know's what you're gonna have to do to survive. You nod your head as you talk in your mind, pushing away your feelings. "Let's do this shit." You grunt, reaching into your skirt, getting your pistol, cocking it.
"You know how to shoot?" He asks, pointing at your gun.
"I know enough." You shrugg.
"Look." Stepping behind you, he wrapps his arms around you, placing your hands where they need to be, "thumb here, pointers here. When you shoot, keep your knees shoulder length apart and elbows locked, like this." He pressed onto your body with his chest, using his foot to kick apart your legs. "There yah go. Keep your thumbs out of the way. Where ever your thumbs are, that's what you're pointin' at." Letting go of you, he squeezes your shoulder.
"What's your favorite tv show?" Jeffrey questions, and you giggle at the question.
"The Walking Dead." He chuckles as well.
"Who's your favorite character?"
"Negan."
"What would Negan do?"
"He'd kick some fucking ass."
"Then let's kick some fucking ass."
Both of you feeling the electric buzz of adrenaline, you nod at eachother. Jeffrey takes out his gun as well, and you both round a corner. He points to the left and you point to the right. No one to be found, you stand side by side, taking a left turn, heading to the lobby. Reaching it, he holds up his hand to stop you, and he walks closer to the end of the hallway, peeping his head out just a little to see.
Turning back around, he reaches you, mumbling a "about 30". Following him, he leads you down the hallway. When you near the elevators, you find a map. "All of the doors are gonna be blocked. We need a different way." You point up at the ceiling to the air vents, "we gotta do it like the movies. Let's John McClane this bitch."
Finding a confrence room, there was a vent in the middle of the room, right above the large table. The vent looked to be big ebough that both you and Jeffrey could get in. "I'll hoist yah up." He suggests, helping you on the table, climbing in after you.
He holds is hands out for you to stand on them, and he lifts you into the air. You hook your fingers onto the vent and loosen the bults, letting it open, but still being connected. "Higher" pushing you up higher, you stick your arms through the opening, trying to pull yourself up, struggling a little, so Jeffrey gives you a push, and you slide right in. "Alright, come on." Looking back down at him, he jumps, grabbing ahold of the edge, pulling himself up.
Sweat had coated his skin and was glistening in the low lighting of the air vents, and you pryed your eyes away from him. You pull the vent back up, putting the bolts back on. "You got a lighter?" Digging into his pocket, he flicks open his zappo, lighting it before handing it over. "I'll go first." Getting onto all fours, he follows after you. You work your way through the vents, until reaching the end and coming to a turn, "left or right?" You ask
"Go left."
"Okie dokie."
Taking a left you go to the end, asking the same question, this time getting a right. Then again, but this time you could see what looked to be sunlight, "we got sun!" You announce, picking up the pace the best you could. When you get to it, you look through, finding that you were at the side of the building, but you could see all of the caution tape and police cars, including swat team and news reporters. "This is our way out. It's a little bit of a jump."
Closing his lighter, you hand it back to him. "You gotta go first on this one." Looking over at him and the tight air vent, you don't know how it's possible. But Jeffrey lays dow on his back
"Here, crawl over me." He motions to his body, and you can't fight the bubbles in your tummy.
"Don't look up my skirt." Straddling his lower legs, your legs don't have enough room to fit between him and the vent wall. "Okay, well um, I have to slide over you. Mah legs don't fit."
"Whatever yah gotta do, Doll." He chuckles. There it is! You pratically scream with joy when he says the pet name that you've been waiting for. The one he always says in fanfics. "We ain't got all day." Tapping your thigh with his finger, you clear your throat.
"Y-yeah." You pull your skirt up so it's now at the bottom of your ass, not on your thighs, that way you can move them more. You have just enogh room to slide up and starddle his stomach a little, so you do so, leaning foward so your hands are above his head. Looking down at him, he has a smirk pressed on his features, "you owe me a drink." Sliding up a little more, you pick up one of your legs, stretching just enough that you get your leg over his shoulder. Moving the other one, you are now pratically straddling his face and quickly move foward, feeling your cheeks redden.
Jeffrey slides foward to where his feet are touching the vent. Leaning up on his hands, be kicks it once, twice, then it falls open. It's a little high jump down, so that's why you made him go first, and he lands pretty good. "Come on, sweetheart. Go feet first. I'll catch yah." Doing as he says, you dangle your legs over the edge, slowly sliding until you slip out, and Jeffrey catches you in his big strong arms.
He sits you down on your feet, arms still around your waist, bodies still pressed together, and you can't help but smile brightly at him "we made it." You chirp, batting your eye lashes a little "
"That we fucking did. How bout' we go get that pretty little face cleaned up and I grab yah that drink?" Smirking, he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.
"Sounds good. But we gotto go explain to those cops about what happened and that'll probably take all day. But after that, sure."
"Alright, smart ass. Let's go." Chuckling, he keeps an arm around your waist as you walk, "and cute panties by the way."
Stupid mid track, you smile and slap his chest, "Jeffrey Dean Morgan! I told you to not look!"
"Oh, as if yah care."
"Shut up."
