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ami- she/her - 30s - call-me-ami on AO3 - following from @amiwritesthings - reading reblogs @ami-reads

[call-me-ami]

Welcome!

hi everyone, ami here.

this is my side blog for all reader insert writing! main is @amiwritesthings .

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[call-me-ami]

Is For Us going to be a series?

hey hi, thanks so much for reaching out! as of now, i am loosely plotting (smutting? lol) part two but i have no timeline as to when it would be done!

[call-me-ami]

Summary: Tonight is the night to fulfill your and your husband's hottest fantasies.

Pairing: Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Reader, Jensen Ackles/Reader/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Danneel Harris/Jared Padalecki

Rating: E/18+

Tags/Advertisement: Open Marriage, Open Relationship, Sex Club, Public Sex, Voyeurism, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex (m and f receiving), Spitroasting, Double Penetration (p in v, p in a), Multiple orgasms (it's pwp okay, pure pwp)

AO3 Link

for the @spnkinkevents Kink Bingo square: Spitroasting

You take a deep breath as you pull open the heavy door. The air inside is warm but still you shiver, naked as you are, save for the intricate black mask covering the top half of your face. The thumping beat of the music vibrates through you, making the soles of your feet tingle. Still, it’s not loud enough to drown out the sounds of sex all around you: the slapping of flesh, guttural groans, moans and sighs and screams.  

You furtively glance back at your husband who you know has entered the room just after you. Jeff nods to you, eyes sparkling, before he walks by you and over to where they are serving drinks.  

Your stomach flutters with nerves as you survey the room. While you had agreed to this, it’s still a little unnerving to be here, naked and exposed. You can feel people’s eyes on you, strangers’ eyes, roving over you top to bottom, and you barely resist the urge to cover yourself as you move deeper into the room. There are people fucking on every available surface, and probably just as many lounging around and watching, and you clench your thighs against that first tingle of arousal as you hear a woman to your left moan brokenly as she’s bounced in someone’s lap. That could be you. Probably is going to be you in the not-too-distant future. Fuck. 

You jump when a finger softly trails down your arm, a warm body pressing in close behind you. It’s not your husband—you’d know him anywhere. This is—someone else. You will your pounding heart to calm down as you turn around to face the stranger.  

He’s tall and half of his face is obscured by a black mask just like yours. He has a nice mouth, though, plush lips, a strong jawline, stubble. Your lips pull into a small smile when you notice a cluster of freckles at the base of his throat. It’s a small detail to focus on but it makes it feel more familiar; this isn’t something you’d know about a random stranger.  

He takes your hand, thumbs at the wedding band on your ring finger. “You gonna get me in trouble?” he asks, and you shiver at the sound of his voice, low and teasing.  

You swallow dryly, then shake your head. This is as much for your husband as it is for you.  

His lips pull into a grin, and you gasp when he easily spins you back around. You can feel him against the small of your back, hard and—God, big, and he palms your tits as his mouth latches onto your neck. It’s really happening.  

You groan in anticipation when one big palm skirts down your stomach while he nudges your legs wider with his foot at the inside of yours. All your muscles tense as you wait for him to touch you, right here in front of all these strangers.  

Your head tips back onto his shoulder with a soft whine and he chuckles into your ear as his hand slides between your legs, barely grazing your clit as his fingers go straight between your folds, a fingertip resting teasingly against your entrance. You are getting more aroused by the second, your heartbeat pulsing in your clit.  

His finger briefly dips into you before sliding up to your clit, spreading your wetness and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until you clench your thighs around his fingers.  

“Ah ah, none of that,” he chides as his foot kicks your legs wider, exposing you to the view of everyone in front of you.  

It’s exhilarating, thinking about all these strangers watching you, seeing you like this, naked and vulnerable and so, so aroused. You make a noise of protest when his hand disappears and it morphs into a groan when he sucks his finger into his mouth, tasting you. He hums into your ear, says, “Delicious,” as he grinds himself against your ass, your skin already sticky with his precome. You wonder if he’s going to take you right here, like this, if he’ll hitch up your leg and— 

He releases you with a pinch of your nipple and a slap to your ass. “Come,” he says, guiding you along with a hand on the small of your back to the open bed just a few feet away. He urges you to lie down and as you do, you see Jeff from the corner of your eyes as he settles in an open spot across, idly stroking himself as he watches you settle in the middle of the bed, legs spread wide.  

Wide palms smoothing up your thighs draw your attention back to Freckles. His eyes are sparkling mischievously behind his mask as he grips your hips and pulls you forward. The new position leaves you utterly exposed with his hands tilting your hips up and your legs falling wide, and you bite your lip when your eyes meet your husband’s, his gaze half-lidded as he groans softly. You can’t hear over the noise, but you know; you can see his lips part and his hand speed up on his cock.  

You smile, entirely unprepared for the sensation of a mouth on your pussy. Your hips jump and an arm comes down over them to hold you down as he licks you taint to clit. You can’t help a moan at the wet heat on your pussy, the teasing tongue, the toe-curling suction. Your fingers twist into Freckles’ hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away, and his lips curve into a smile against your flesh.  

Your back arches when two fingers enter you without warning, squelching through your wetness, as he attacks your clit again. You do hear Jeff’s moan this time and echo it, loud and unashamed, hips bucking as much as they can under the restriction.  

Your orgasm is building fast, curling tight in your belly, tingling up your spine. His fingers speed up, relentlessly hitting your g-spot as he continues to devour your pussy. You scream your pleasure a moment later, the intensity overwhelming, your muscles locking, pussy clenching around the fingers still slowly stroking into you.  

You whimper when he sucks at your clit again, the feeling almost too much. You ease your grip on his hair and he noses into the crease of your thigh instead, stubble bristling at the inside of your thigh, fingers still inside of you, as you try to catch your breath.  

You are still reeling from your orgasm when the fingers start to move again, slowly, before a third presses in. Just like that, you’re teetering on the edge again, that first flutter of another orgasm starting deep in your belly. You mewl in frustration when he withdraws his fingers a second before you can crash over the edge. He laughs, slaps your pussy, before three fingers drive back into you hard and fast only to leave you hanging right on the precipice again, muscles fluttering around the sudden emptiness.  

“Fuck,” you cry breathlessly, jerking for his hot breath on your sensitized flesh, the kiss he sucks to your clit.  

Freckles hauls you upright, takes your place on the bed before he pulls you into his lap. You go easily, your legs like jelly as you straddle him and rub yourself along the length of his hard dick, your core aching in anticipation. His hands go to your hips, guiding you, and his head tips back, mouth open in a pant. It’s a gorgeous sight.  

Feeling bold, you lean forward, suck and nibble on the cluster of freckles, lick up his throat and suck on his Adam’s apple. His moan vibrates under your lips as his grip tightens on your hips. You sit back, brace yourself on his chest with one hand as you shift up onto your knees, using your other hand to guide his cock to your entrance.  

Your gaze flickers to Jeff, who is watching you as you sink down, taking just the flared head. You gasp, and your husband licks his lips, strokes his cock, his eyes fixed between your legs.  

Freckles’ hands flexing on your hips have you tearing your eyes away and refocusing on the cock working its way into you. It’s thick, just the way you like it, and you are panting a little harder the lower you work yourself. There are more people watching you, men and women alike getting off to the sight of you fucking this stranger, and you close your eyes, stutter out a breath as you sink down the last inch. You moan at the fullness, your fingers curling into Freckles’ chest as he starts thrusting up into you, ratcheting your pleasure right up to the edge again. Just a little more— 

You gasp in surprise at the sudden pressure on your clit, at the presence of a third, new hand touching your body. You can’t see who it belongs to but it’s big and its touch is sending you flying almost immediately, clenching hard around the cock buried deep inside of you as you tip over the edge again, your thighs shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.  

You slump forward with a moan, only to have those big hands slide up your body and palm your tits, hauling you upright again, keeping you bouncing on Freckles’ cock. It’s almost too much, the stimulation too intense, and you throw your head back on a keen when your nipples get pinched, rolled, pulled. 

Freckles laughs breathlessly as he slows his pace, his gaze somewhere over your shoulder. He nods, and the hands leave your tits, grab your hips and lift—lift you off Freckles’ cock with a wet squelch that makes your cheeks heat, your pussy clenching on nothing. 

Freckles shifts back and onto his knees, grinning, and you don’t have the time to question what he knows that you don’t before the big guy holding you drops you onto the bed, rearranging you onto your hands and knees.  

Freckles brushes your hair out of your face, slaps his hard cock against your lips, smears precome and your own juices onto your skin. You shiver, your mind reeling with the overwhelming intensity of the situation. “C’mon,” he urges quietly, and you wet your lips before placing a kiss on the weeping tip, teasing him just a little. He growls, a deep, rumbly sound that whispers down your spine, and you open your mouth and let him push in on a shallow thrust, and your combined tastes burst on your tongue salty-bitter, making you groan.  

“Go easy,” Freckles says, and you don’t understand until—until you feel the pressure of a cock against your entrance, and it enters you easily, almost too smoothly, with the slick squelch of—lube, you think, and you pant around the cock in your mouth as you try to process the dual sensations.  

Your hands curl into the bed when you are starting to feel full. But Big Guy, he keeps pushing, going deeper, and you tense, your eyes going wide as you look up at Freckles. He cups your cheek, thumbs at your earlobe, says, “I know it’s a lot, sweetie, just a little more, promise it’s worth it,” before he languidly rolls his hips, slides his cock over your tongue and to the back of your mouth.  

You make a soft noise in your throat, your body trembling as it tries to adjust. Freckles keeps fucking into your mouth in shallow strokes, rubbing himself over your tongue, his hand resting lightly on top of your head, guiding, angling, but not forcing.  

Behind you Big Guy moans as he finally bottoms out and you gasp, the air stolen from your lungs with how deep inside of you he feels. His first thrust sends you scampering forward, onto the cock in your mouth, and you cough when it hits the back of your throat too quickly. Big Guy pulls you back, his hands holding you tight as he feeds his cock back in balls deep, making you whimper and moan.  

It takes a few moments for the intense fullness to turn into pleasure, but when it does you arch your back and press back into the feeling. Big Guy laughs and slaps your ass for it, right and left, while Freckles is relentlessly working your throat open with little thrusts that send him a fraction deeper into you on every one.  

That first full push into your throat still makes you gag, your whole body going tight and making Big Guy curse under his breath for the clench of your cunt.  

Your eyes water and your cheeks heat. You can do this, have done this for Jeff, but with the two cocks working you into a frenzy and your skin prickling under the gaze of God only knows how many strangers, you can’t focus enough to put your best efforts forward.  

Big Guy slows his movements, palms your ass, spreads your cheeks, but it’s Freckles drawing your attention with a tug on your hair as his hips rolls forward again to bury his cock into your mouth and throat. You suck in a breath through your nose before he sinks himself in all the way, and you swallow against the intrusion, drawing a groan.  

You wish you could see your husband right now, see how much he enjoys seeing you like this, get some reassurance. But you can’t move enough to see him, not like this.  

You gasp when Freckles pulls back and gives you a moment to breathe. At the same time, Big Guy settles into an easy rhythm—too easy, almost teasing, you think—and then you feel a thumb circling your ass, slick and teasing, pulsing against your hole, and for a moment you think you can’t take any more, can’t take another sensation added to the mix.  

You whine softly when the finger presses in at the same time as Big Guy pushes himself deep again.  

“Fuck, yeah,” Freckles chuckles breathlessly, “you think you can take us both, sweetie?”  

His thumb strokes the hollow of your cheek, almost gentle, and you are torn between nodding and shaking your head, your mind reeling at the sheer possibility of—  

“Yeah, I think you can,” Freckles drawls in that deep voice and you close your eyes for a second, overwhelmed with the stimulation, with the deep pressure of a cock in your pussy, the pleasurable tingle of a finger fucking your ass, the hot weight of a cock on your tongue. Overwhelmed with the thought of having one of them fuck your ass instead.  

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere on Big Guy’s next stroke in, shuddering through you in waves, your body trembling in their hold. Big Guy fucks you right through it, though the tight clutch of your muscles on his cock, his slick skin hitting yours on every thrust as he sneaks a second finger into your ass.  

You make a strangled noise, somewhere between a moan and a whimper as you keep shivering through the last tremors of your pleasure.  

“She ready?” you hear Freckles ask through the fog in your brain, and Big Guy’s fingers plunge into your ass a couple more times, scissoring on the way out.  

“Yeah, you’re ready, aren’t you sweetie?” Freckles asks as he pulls out of your mouth, his spit-shiny cock bobbing right in front of your face when you look up at him to nod.  

Big Guy hauls you upright again, those big hands cupping your tits and you gasp for how deep it sends him. You look over to your husband, his eyes on you and only you despite the redhead on her knees sucking his cock, his lip caught between his teeth, his hands flexing restlessly on the girl’s head. You know it’s all because of you, not her. 

“Hey,” Freckles says, as he grabs your chin and makes you look at him again. For a second you wonder if he’s going to kiss you, but then his gaze darts over your shoulder again and he nods as he pats your cheek.  

“Fuck,” you whine as Big Guy withdraws slowly, leaving you quivering, achingly empty, his fingers rolling your nipples as he keeps holding you upright, making you watch Freckles lie back and lube his cock, leaving no doubt about what’s going to happen.  

You swallow, tasting the remnants of Freckles in your mouth, as Big Guy mouths on your neck, his breath hot-damp on your skin.  

“Go on,” Big Guy murmurs against your ear as he lets you go, his voice smooth and silky.  

Freckles holds his hand out to you and you take it, letting him pull you towards him. His hand is sticky with lube, leaving your skin sticky as well as he manhandles you into his lap, your back to his chest.  

It brings you face to face with Big Guy for the first time; your eyes wandering up his body, from that long, thick cock up over chiseled abs and a defined chest to a strong jaw, over the plain black mask to shaggy brown hair, his skin glistening with sweat. Good God. Your eyes drop back down again, and you wonder how in the hell you even managed to fit him into your body.  

He grins at you as though he knows where your thoughts have gone.  

You are distracted again by Freckles circling your clit as he slaps his slicked-up cock against your cunt a few times. It’s Big Guy who knees closer, though, and guides Freckles’ cock to your ass.  

Freckles groans, the sound vibrating against your back as he mindlessly strokes the back of your thighs, holding you open. There’s only pressure and you try your best to relax, your lips parting in a breathless gasp when the tip pops in.  

Freckles pants into your ear, his grip on your legs tightening as he slowly circles his hips up, sliding himself deeper.  

“Oh my God,” you cry out when Big Guy drives three fingers into your cunt at the same time and presses down. Freckles’ hips stutter, his voice shaky as he curses colorfully into your ear. Your back arches when Big Guy fingerfucks you hard, making you shake and moan as he drags another orgasm out of you.  

“C’mon, stop playing,” Freckles rasps, his hands splaying over your stomach as Big Guy moves in close enough to keep your legs from closing. You stop breathing for the moment he breaches you again, for the incredible fullness of two cocks inside of you.  

You catch one last glimpse of Jeff with his head thrown back, hips lifting to fuck into the redhead’s throat as he comes, before your vision is filled with Big Guy as he buries himself deep inside your pussy again.  

“Fuck,” you whine weakly, sandwiched between these two strangers, filled so deeply it feels like you can’t breathe.  

Freckles coos breathless little nothings from beneath you as they settle into a maddening rhythm that has you scrambling for purchase, your fingernails digging into Big Guy’s shoulders as you try to hang on. 

It seems impossible to come again, but against all odds you can feel the pleasure curling tight in your belly again.  

“Fuck, I can feel you, Jay, that’s so fucking hot,” Freckles pants as his hand presses down low on your belly, before he grabs one of your hands and makes you feel it, too.  

Big Guy—Jay, you suppose—pulls back and buries himself to the hilt again. You feel it inside and out, and when Freckles presses down on your hand, the pleasure sparks up another notch. You whimper, too overwhelmed to form words, your body tensing in anticipation of the inevitable.  

You are going to come again. You can feel it building with each push and pull and Jay grabs your chin, makes you look at him as he fucks you hard and fast.  

“C’mon, one more,” he urges.  

Freckles presses down on your belly again, mouths at your neck, his breath hot as he says right against your ear, “Give us one more, sweetie. Wanna feel you come all over our cocks, c’mon.”  

It’s his fingertip on your clit that sends you into an earth-shattering fifth orgasm a moment later and they fuck you through it, rhythms finally faltering as they follow you over the edge, both of them holding deep as they come inside of you, groaning their release. 

You ride the last waves of pleasure, the tension starting to leave your body. Their hands are still stroking your body, soft and gentle now, their breaths on your overheated skin making you shiver. You feel exhausted now that the fog in your mind is clearing, the little pains and aches starting to set in.  

Jay thumbs at your jawline, shifting your focus back to him. “You good?” he asks and you nod shakily and lick your dry lips.  

“Yeah,” you say, your voice cracking on the one syllable. He smiles at you, wide, all teeth, his hand skimming down your side as he starts to pull out.  

Another shiver wrecks your body for the slow drag of his cock and you gasp when he pops free, leaving you so empty. He drags two fingers through your folds, traces your entrance and then down lower to where Freckles is still buried inside you, and you can’t help a soft mewl. You are not sure how much more you can take.  

Freckles shushes you, runs a soothing hand over your ribs. Your eyes dart to your husband who looks just as fucked out as you feel, his mouth curving into a lazy smile. You sigh in satisfaction, happy that you both got what you wanted tonight.  

Jay’s big hands settle on your hips and carefully lift you off of Freckles’ cock and you can’t help a soft whine at the loss and the emptiness, the slow trickle of cum down the inside of your thigh. He sets you down on your feet, rushing to steady you when your legs wobble.  

There are still so many eyes on you, even now, and for the first time, it feels a little intrusive. All you want now is Jeff, to be held and to kiss him and feel his warm, reassuring presence.  

Jay slowly lets you go, the redhead who sucked Jeff’s cock sliding in against your side instead, her arm going around your waist. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” she says, and you nod before you glance back at Freckles sitting up on the edge of the mattress, then up and up and up at Jay—God, he’s so tall, taller than your husband even. The words thank you hover on the tip of your tongue but you don’t need to say them for them to know.  

“Come,” the redhead says, guiding you away from the scene of the crime and back the way you came, past the locker area into what you realize are communal showers.  

At the far end, two women are lazily making out in the spray and you glance at the redhead again who is gently steering you under the warm spray of a shower.  

You let it rush over your body for a moment before you take off your mask and lazily run your hands through your tousled hair, then down your body.  

“I’m Danni,” she says as she lathers up some body wash in her hands, then gently scrubs them down your back.  

“Y/N,” you sigh.  

When you turn around, her mask is on the floor with yours and you look at her for a moment. She’s pretty. You wait for the inevitable flare of jealousy at knowing she had her mouth on your husband’s dick but it doesn’t come.  

She smiles at you as if she knows, then slides her slick hands over your hips to the outside of your thigh. “You’re gonna be sore tomorrow.” she says quietly before handing you a damp washcloth.  

You gingerly run it between your legs and down the inside of your thighs, cleaning away the evidence of your debauchery.  

“You’re with—”  

You feel stupid calling them the nicknames you gave them in your head to her face, so you just say, “—them?”  

She nods, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Yeah, we are—a thing.”  

You nod before tilting your head back into the spray, letting the warm water run over your face. When you bring your head down again, Danni is wrapped in a towel and holding one out for you.  

You take it gladly, wrap yourself up in the fluffy cotton before following her back to the locker room. You blink at the harsh lights and wander over to locker 17 and put in the combination to unlock it.  

“Hey sweetheart.”  

You smile as an arm slides around your shoulder from behind, Jeff’s warm body pressing against your back, his beard bristling at the side of your neck as he noses at your jaw.  

You melt back into his embrace, let his familiar scent and the low rumble of his voice wash over you.  

“That was fucking hot,” he rasps into your ear, and although he is already dressed again, he can’t resist a slow roll of his hips against your ass.  

You hum in response, basking in the warmth of his body and the knowledge that despite having sex with other people tonight, your marriage is absolutely fine.  

“Take your time. I’ll wait for you outside, sweetheart,” he says after a while, and he kisses the side of your neck before he lets you go.  

You miss his warmth immediately. Still, you take your time getting dressed, letting your muscles dictate how fast you move. At last, you take a big gulp of the bottle of water you brought with you and scrounge your hair up into a messy ponytail before you take your purse and leave the locker room.  

You can still hear the thump-thump of the music as you pass by the heavy wooden doors. Your cheeks heat when you think about what happened on the other side of them.  

You go outside, the night air cool on your skin. From the outside, you’d never be able to tell what is going on inside.  

You make your way to your car where Jeff is waiting for you. He holds out his hand to you and you take it, let yourself be pulled in.  

“Hey,” he says, and you smile, saying, “Hey,” back before you lean in and kiss him, long and slow.  

You only part when there’s movement behind you, and you turn, tuck yourself against Jeff’s side, your face flaming when you recognize Danni and—you can finally see their faces now and they are both so handsome. 

You watch as Freckles fist-bumps Jeff like they are old buddies. They probably are, you realize. You hadn’t even given it much thought what it exactly Jeff had meant when he said he had arranged for this evening. 

Freckles shoots you a grin as he runs his hand through his hair. “Jensen,” he says easily, “this is Jared, and you already know Danni.” Jared lifts his hand in a little awkward wave while Danni flashes you a smile.  

“Y/N,” you say, ducking your head. It’s a little hard to look at them when a highlight reel of the two of them fucking you six ways to Sunday in front of your husband is still playing in your mind in high definition.  

Jensen chuckles and drags his knuckles down your cheek, lifting your chin. “No need to be shy, sweetie,” he says and you release a nervous breath as Jeff squeezes your hip reassuringly, giving you something to focus on.  

“You know, when Jeff suggested this, I wasn’t sure how this was gonna go, but—” he trails off, glances at his partners. They both nod. “If you ever feel like doing this again in a more private setting, give us a call.”   

Fuck. You are a little mortified but at the same time just the thought makes you clench your thighs.  

He leans in and places a kiss on your cheek before he side-hugs Jeff. “Think about it,” he says with a grin and you watch him throw an arm around Danni’s shoulder before the three of them take off.  

“No pressure,” Jeff mutters as he kisses your temple, his hand squeezing your ass. You already know he will make you feel like a queen once you get home, taking care of your every need.  

You hum softly and lean up to kiss your husband before saying, “I love you.”

He thumbs at your cheekbone and steals another kiss. “I love you, too. Thank you for tonight.” 

And you know you won’t even have to think about it. You know you’re going to call them.  

For you and for Jeff.  

thanks for reading, lemme know if you enjoyed!!!

[call-me-ami]

Summary: Tonight is the night to fulfill your and your husband's hottest fantasies.

Pairing: Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Reader, Jensen Ackles/Reader/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Danneel Harris/Jared Padalecki

Rating: E/18+

Tags/Advertisement: Open Marriage, Open Relationship, Sex Club, Public Sex, Voyeurism, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex (m and f receiving), Spitroasting, Double Penetration (p in v, p in a), Multiple orgasms (it's pwp okay, pure pwp)

AO3 Link

for the @spnkinkevents Kink Bingo square: Spitroasting

You take a deep breath as you pull open the heavy door. The air inside is warm but still you shiver, naked as you are, save for the intricate black mask covering the top half of your face. The thumping beat of the music vibrates through you, making the soles of your feet tingle. Still, it’s not loud enough to drown out the sounds of sex all around you: the slapping of flesh, guttural groans, moans and sighs and screams.  

You furtively glance back at your husband who you know has entered the room just after you. Jeff nods to you, eyes sparkling, before he walks by you and over to where they are serving drinks.  

Your stomach flutters with nerves as you survey the room. While you had agreed to this, it’s still a little unnerving to be here, naked and exposed. You can feel people’s eyes on you, strangers’ eyes, roving over you top to bottom, and you barely resist the urge to cover yourself as you move deeper into the room. There are people fucking on every available surface, and probably just as many lounging around and watching, and you clench your thighs against that first tingle of arousal as you hear a woman to your left moan brokenly as she’s bounced in someone’s lap. That could be you. Probably is going to be you in the not-too-distant future. Fuck. 

You jump when a finger softly trails down your arm, a warm body pressing in close behind you. It’s not your husband—you’d know him anywhere. This is—someone else. You will your pounding heart to calm down as you turn around to face the stranger.  

He’s tall and half of his face is obscured by a black mask just like yours. He has a nice mouth, though, plush lips, a strong jawline, stubble. Your lips pull into a small smile when you notice a cluster of freckles at the base of his throat. It’s a small detail to focus on but it makes it feel more familiar; this isn’t something you’d know about a random stranger.  

He takes your hand, thumbs at the wedding band on your ring finger. “You gonna get me in trouble?” he asks, and you shiver at the sound of his voice, low and teasing.  

You swallow dryly, then shake your head. This is as much for your husband as it is for you.  

His lips pull into a grin, and you gasp when he easily spins you back around. You can feel him against the small of your back, hard and—God, big, and he palms your tits as his mouth latches onto your neck. It’s really happening.  

You groan in anticipation when one big palm skirts down your stomach while he nudges your legs wider with his foot at the inside of yours. All your muscles tense as you wait for him to touch you, right here in front of all these strangers.  

Your head tips back onto his shoulder with a soft whine and he chuckles into your ear as his hand slides between your legs, barely grazing your clit as his fingers go straight between your folds, a fingertip resting teasingly against your entrance. You are getting more aroused by the second, your heartbeat pulsing in your clit.  

His finger briefly dips into you before sliding up to your clit, spreading your wetness and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until you clench your thighs around his fingers.  

“Ah ah, none of that,” he chides as his foot kicks your legs wider, exposing you to the view of everyone in front of you.  

It’s exhilarating, thinking about all these strangers watching you, seeing you like this, naked and vulnerable and so, so aroused. You make a noise of protest when his hand disappears and it morphs into a groan when he sucks his finger into his mouth, tasting you. He hums into your ear, says, “Delicious,” as he grinds himself against your ass, your skin already sticky with his precome. You wonder if he’s going to take you right here, like this, if he’ll hitch up your leg and— 

He releases you with a pinch of your nipple and a slap to your ass. “Come,” he says, guiding you along with a hand on the small of your back to the open bed just a few feet away. He urges you to lie down and as you do, you see Jeff from the corner of your eyes as he settles in an open spot across, idly stroking himself as he watches you settle in the middle of the bed, legs spread wide.  

Wide palms smoothing up your thighs draw your attention back to Freckles. His eyes are sparkling mischievously behind his mask as he grips your hips and pulls you forward. The new position leaves you utterly exposed with his hands tilting your hips up and your legs falling wide, and you bite your lip when your eyes meet your husband’s, his gaze half-lidded as he groans softly. You can’t hear over the noise, but you know; you can see his lips part and his hand speed up on his cock.  

You smile, entirely unprepared for the sensation of a mouth on your pussy. Your hips jump and an arm comes down over them to hold you down as he licks you taint to clit. You can’t help a moan at the wet heat on your pussy, the teasing tongue, the toe-curling suction. Your fingers twist into Freckles’ hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away, and his lips curve into a smile against your flesh.  

Your back arches when two fingers enter you without warning, squelching through your wetness, as he attacks your clit again. You do hear Jeff’s moan this time and echo it, loud and unashamed, hips bucking as much as they can under the restriction.  

Your orgasm is building fast, curling tight in your belly, tingling up your spine. His fingers speed up, relentlessly hitting your g-spot as he continues to devour your pussy. You scream your pleasure a moment later, the intensity overwhelming, your muscles locking, pussy clenching around the fingers still slowly stroking into you.  

You whimper when he sucks at your clit again, the feeling almost too much. You ease your grip on his hair and he noses into the crease of your thigh instead, stubble bristling at the inside of your thigh, fingers still inside of you, as you try to catch your breath.  

You are still reeling from your orgasm when the fingers start to move again, slowly, before a third presses in. Just like that, you’re teetering on the edge again, that first flutter of another orgasm starting deep in your belly. You mewl in frustration when he withdraws his fingers a second before you can crash over the edge. He laughs, slaps your pussy, before three fingers drive back into you hard and fast only to leave you hanging right on the precipice again, muscles fluttering around the sudden emptiness.  

“Fuck,” you cry breathlessly, jerking for his hot breath on your sensitized flesh, the kiss he sucks to your clit.  

Freckles hauls you upright, takes your place on the bed before he pulls you into his lap. You go easily, your legs like jelly as you straddle him and rub yourself along the length of his hard dick, your core aching in anticipation. His hands go to your hips, guiding you, and his head tips back, mouth open in a pant. It’s a gorgeous sight.  

Feeling bold, you lean forward, suck and nibble on the cluster of freckles, lick up his throat and suck on his Adam’s apple. His moan vibrates under your lips as his grip tightens on your hips. You sit back, brace yourself on his chest with one hand as you shift up onto your knees, using your other hand to guide his cock to your entrance.  

Your gaze flickers to Jeff, who is watching you as you sink down, taking just the flared head. You gasp, and your husband licks his lips, strokes his cock, his eyes fixed between your legs.  

Freckles’ hands flexing on your hips have you tearing your eyes away and refocusing on the cock working its way into you. It’s thick, just the way you like it, and you are panting a little harder the lower you work yourself. There are more people watching you, men and women alike getting off to the sight of you fucking this stranger, and you close your eyes, stutter out a breath as you sink down the last inch. You moan at the fullness, your fingers curling into Freckles’ chest as he starts thrusting up into you, ratcheting your pleasure right up to the edge again. Just a little more— 

You gasp in surprise at the sudden pressure on your clit, at the presence of a third, new hand touching your body. You can’t see who it belongs to but it’s big and its touch is sending you flying almost immediately, clenching hard around the cock buried deep inside of you as you tip over the edge again, your thighs shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.  

You slump forward with a moan, only to have those big hands slide up your body and palm your tits, hauling you upright again, keeping you bouncing on Freckles’ cock. It’s almost too much, the stimulation too intense, and you throw your head back on a keen when your nipples get pinched, rolled, pulled. 

Freckles laughs breathlessly as he slows his pace, his gaze somewhere over your shoulder. He nods, and the hands leave your tits, grab your hips and lift—lift you off Freckles’ cock with a wet squelch that makes your cheeks heat, your pussy clenching on nothing. 

Freckles shifts back and onto his knees, grinning, and you don’t have the time to question what he knows that you don’t before the big guy holding you drops you onto the bed, rearranging you onto your hands and knees.  

Freckles brushes your hair out of your face, slaps his hard cock against your lips, smears precome and your own juices onto your skin. You shiver, your mind reeling with the overwhelming intensity of the situation. “C’mon,” he urges quietly, and you wet your lips before placing a kiss on the weeping tip, teasing him just a little. He growls, a deep, rumbly sound that whispers down your spine, and you open your mouth and let him push in on a shallow thrust, and your combined tastes burst on your tongue salty-bitter, making you groan.  

“Go easy,” Freckles says, and you don’t understand until—until you feel the pressure of a cock against your entrance, and it enters you easily, almost too smoothly, with the slick squelch of—lube, you think, and you pant around the cock in your mouth as you try to process the dual sensations.  

Your hands curl into the bed when you are starting to feel full. But Big Guy, he keeps pushing, going deeper, and you tense, your eyes going wide as you look up at Freckles. He cups your cheek, thumbs at your earlobe, says, “I know it’s a lot, sweetie, just a little more, promise it’s worth it,” before he languidly rolls his hips, slides his cock over your tongue and to the back of your mouth.  

You make a soft noise in your throat, your body trembling as it tries to adjust. Freckles keeps fucking into your mouth in shallow strokes, rubbing himself over your tongue, his hand resting lightly on top of your head, guiding, angling, but not forcing.  

Behind you Big Guy moans as he finally bottoms out and you gasp, the air stolen from your lungs with how deep inside of you he feels. His first thrust sends you scampering forward, onto the cock in your mouth, and you cough when it hits the back of your throat too quickly. Big Guy pulls you back, his hands holding you tight as he feeds his cock back in balls deep, making you whimper and moan.  

It takes a few moments for the intense fullness to turn into pleasure, but when it does you arch your back and press back into the feeling. Big Guy laughs and slaps your ass for it, right and left, while Freckles is relentlessly working your throat open with little thrusts that send him a fraction deeper into you on every one.  

That first full push into your throat still makes you gag, your whole body going tight and making Big Guy curse under his breath for the clench of your cunt.  

Your eyes water and your cheeks heat. You can do this, have done this for Jeff, but with the two cocks working you into a frenzy and your skin prickling under the gaze of God only knows how many strangers, you can’t focus enough to put your best efforts forward.  

Big Guy slows his movements, palms your ass, spreads your cheeks, but it’s Freckles drawing your attention with a tug on your hair as his hips rolls forward again to bury his cock into your mouth and throat. You suck in a breath through your nose before he sinks himself in all the way, and you swallow against the intrusion, drawing a groan.  

You wish you could see your husband right now, see how much he enjoys seeing you like this, get some reassurance. But you can’t move enough to see him, not like this.  

You gasp when Freckles pulls back and gives you a moment to breathe. At the same time, Big Guy settles into an easy rhythm—too easy, almost teasing, you think—and then you feel a thumb circling your ass, slick and teasing, pulsing against your hole, and for a moment you think you can’t take any more, can’t take another sensation added to the mix.  

You whine softly when the finger presses in at the same time as Big Guy pushes himself deep again.  

“Fuck, yeah,” Freckles chuckles breathlessly, “you think you can take us both, sweetie?”  

His thumb strokes the hollow of your cheek, almost gentle, and you are torn between nodding and shaking your head, your mind reeling at the sheer possibility of—  

“Yeah, I think you can,” Freckles drawls in that deep voice and you close your eyes for a second, overwhelmed with the stimulation, with the deep pressure of a cock in your pussy, the pleasurable tingle of a finger fucking your ass, the hot weight of a cock on your tongue. Overwhelmed with the thought of having one of them fuck your ass instead.  

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere on Big Guy’s next stroke in, shuddering through you in waves, your body trembling in their hold. Big Guy fucks you right through it, though the tight clutch of your muscles on his cock, his slick skin hitting yours on every thrust as he sneaks a second finger into your ass.  

You make a strangled noise, somewhere between a moan and a whimper as you keep shivering through the last tremors of your pleasure.  

“She ready?” you hear Freckles ask through the fog in your brain, and Big Guy’s fingers plunge into your ass a couple more times, scissoring on the way out.  

“Yeah, you’re ready, aren’t you sweetie?” Freckles asks as he pulls out of your mouth, his spit-shiny cock bobbing right in front of your face when you look up at him to nod.  

Big Guy hauls you upright again, those big hands cupping your tits and you gasp for how deep it sends him. You look over to your husband, his eyes on you and only you despite the redhead on her knees sucking his cock, his lip caught between his teeth, his hands flexing restlessly on the girl’s head. You know it’s all because of you, not her. 

“Hey,” Freckles says, as he grabs your chin and makes you look at him again. For a second you wonder if he’s going to kiss you, but then his gaze darts over your shoulder again and he nods as he pats your cheek.  

“Fuck,” you whine as Big Guy withdraws slowly, leaving you quivering, achingly empty, his fingers rolling your nipples as he keeps holding you upright, making you watch Freckles lie back and lube his cock, leaving no doubt about what’s going to happen.  

You swallow, tasting the remnants of Freckles in your mouth, as Big Guy mouths on your neck, his breath hot-damp on your skin.  

“Go on,” Big Guy murmurs against your ear as he lets you go, his voice smooth and silky.  

Freckles holds his hand out to you and you take it, letting him pull you towards him. His hand is sticky with lube, leaving your skin sticky as well as he manhandles you into his lap, your back to his chest.  

It brings you face to face with Big Guy for the first time; your eyes wandering up his body, from that long, thick cock up over chiseled abs and a defined chest to a strong jaw, over the plain black mask to shaggy brown hair, his skin glistening with sweat. Good God. Your eyes drop back down again, and you wonder how in the hell you even managed to fit him into your body.  

He grins at you as though he knows where your thoughts have gone.  

You are distracted again by Freckles circling your clit as he slaps his slicked-up cock against your cunt a few times. It’s Big Guy who knees closer, though, and guides Freckles’ cock to your ass.  

Freckles groans, the sound vibrating against your back as he mindlessly strokes the back of your thighs, holding you open. There’s only pressure and you try your best to relax, your lips parting in a breathless gasp when the tip pops in.  

Freckles pants into your ear, his grip on your legs tightening as he slowly circles his hips up, sliding himself deeper.  

“Oh my God,” you cry out when Big Guy drives three fingers into your cunt at the same time and presses down. Freckles’ hips stutter, his voice shaky as he curses colorfully into your ear. Your back arches when Big Guy fingerfucks you hard, making you shake and moan as he drags another orgasm out of you.  

“C’mon, stop playing,” Freckles rasps, his hands splaying over your stomach as Big Guy moves in close enough to keep your legs from closing. You stop breathing for the moment he breaches you again, for the incredible fullness of two cocks inside of you.  

You catch one last glimpse of Jeff with his head thrown back, hips lifting to fuck into the redhead’s throat as he comes, before your vision is filled with Big Guy as he buries himself deep inside your pussy again.  

“Fuck,” you whine weakly, sandwiched between these two strangers, filled so deeply it feels like you can’t breathe.  

Freckles coos breathless little nothings from beneath you as they settle into a maddening rhythm that has you scrambling for purchase, your fingernails digging into Big Guy’s shoulders as you try to hang on. 

It seems impossible to come again, but against all odds you can feel the pleasure curling tight in your belly again.  

“Fuck, I can feel you, Jay, that’s so fucking hot,” Freckles pants as his hand presses down low on your belly, before he grabs one of your hands and makes you feel it, too.  

Big Guy—Jay, you suppose—pulls back and buries himself to the hilt again. You feel it inside and out, and when Freckles presses down on your hand, the pleasure sparks up another notch. You whimper, too overwhelmed to form words, your body tensing in anticipation of the inevitable.  

You are going to come again. You can feel it building with each push and pull and Jay grabs your chin, makes you look at him as he fucks you hard and fast.  

“C’mon, one more,” he urges.  

Freckles presses down on your belly again, mouths at your neck, his breath hot as he says right against your ear, “Give us one more, sweetie. Wanna feel you come all over our cocks, c’mon.”  

It’s his fingertip on your clit that sends you into an earth-shattering fifth orgasm a moment later and they fuck you through it, rhythms finally faltering as they follow you over the edge, both of them holding deep as they come inside of you, groaning their release. 

You ride the last waves of pleasure, the tension starting to leave your body. Their hands are still stroking your body, soft and gentle now, their breaths on your overheated skin making you shiver. You feel exhausted now that the fog in your mind is clearing, the little pains and aches starting to set in.  

Jay thumbs at your jawline, shifting your focus back to him. “You good?” he asks and you nod shakily and lick your dry lips.  

“Yeah,” you say, your voice cracking on the one syllable. He smiles at you, wide, all teeth, his hand skimming down your side as he starts to pull out.  

Another shiver wrecks your body for the slow drag of his cock and you gasp when he pops free, leaving you so empty. He drags two fingers through your folds, traces your entrance and then down lower to where Freckles is still buried inside you, and you can’t help a soft mewl. You are not sure how much more you can take.  

Freckles shushes you, runs a soothing hand over your ribs. Your eyes dart to your husband who looks just as fucked out as you feel, his mouth curving into a lazy smile. You sigh in satisfaction, happy that you both got what you wanted tonight.  

Jay’s big hands settle on your hips and carefully lift you off of Freckles’ cock and you can’t help a soft whine at the loss and the emptiness, the slow trickle of cum down the inside of your thigh. He sets you down on your feet, rushing to steady you when your legs wobble.  

There are still so many eyes on you, even now, and for the first time, it feels a little intrusive. All you want now is Jeff, to be held and to kiss him and feel his warm, reassuring presence.  

Jay slowly lets you go, the redhead who sucked Jeff’s cock sliding in against your side instead, her arm going around your waist. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” she says, and you nod before you glance back at Freckles sitting up on the edge of the mattress, then up and up and up at Jay—God, he’s so tall, taller than your husband even. The words thank you hover on the tip of your tongue but you don’t need to say them for them to know.  

“Come,” the redhead says, guiding you away from the scene of the crime and back the way you came, past the locker area into what you realize are communal showers.  

At the far end, two women are lazily making out in the spray and you glance at the redhead again who is gently steering you under the warm spray of a shower.  

You let it rush over your body for a moment before you take off your mask and lazily run your hands through your tousled hair, then down your body.  

“I’m Danni,” she says as she lathers up some body wash in her hands, then gently scrubs them down your back.  

“Y/N,” you sigh.  

When you turn around, her mask is on the floor with yours and you look at her for a moment. She’s pretty. You wait for the inevitable flare of jealousy at knowing she had her mouth on your husband’s dick but it doesn’t come.  

She smiles at you as if she knows, then slides her slick hands over your hips to the outside of your thigh. “You’re gonna be sore tomorrow.” she says quietly before handing you a damp washcloth.  

You gingerly run it between your legs and down the inside of your thighs, cleaning away the evidence of your debauchery.  

“You’re with—”  

You feel stupid calling them the nicknames you gave them in your head to her face, so you just say, “—them?”  

She nods, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Yeah, we are—a thing.”  

You nod before tilting your head back into the spray, letting the warm water run over your face. When you bring your head down again, Danni is wrapped in a towel and holding one out for you.  

You take it gladly, wrap yourself up in the fluffy cotton before following her back to the locker room. You blink at the harsh lights and wander over to locker 17 and put in the combination to unlock it.  

“Hey sweetheart.”  

You smile as an arm slides around your shoulder from behind, Jeff’s warm body pressing against your back, his beard bristling at the side of your neck as he noses at your jaw.  

You melt back into his embrace, let his familiar scent and the low rumble of his voice wash over you.  

“That was fucking hot,” he rasps into your ear, and although he is already dressed again, he can’t resist a slow roll of his hips against your ass.  

You hum in response, basking in the warmth of his body and the knowledge that despite having sex with other people tonight, your marriage is absolutely fine.  

“Take your time. I’ll wait for you outside, sweetheart,” he says after a while, and he kisses the side of your neck before he lets you go.  

You miss his warmth immediately. Still, you take your time getting dressed, letting your muscles dictate how fast you move. At last, you take a big gulp of the bottle of water you brought with you and scrounge your hair up into a messy ponytail before you take your purse and leave the locker room.  

You can still hear the thump-thump of the music as you pass by the heavy wooden doors. Your cheeks heat when you think about what happened on the other side of them.  

You go outside, the night air cool on your skin. From the outside, you’d never be able to tell what is going on inside.  

You make your way to your car where Jeff is waiting for you. He holds out his hand to you and you take it, let yourself be pulled in.  

“Hey,” he says, and you smile, saying, “Hey,” back before you lean in and kiss him, long and slow.  

You only part when there’s movement behind you, and you turn, tuck yourself against Jeff’s side, your face flaming when you recognize Danni and—you can finally see their faces now and they are both so handsome. 

You watch as Freckles fist-bumps Jeff like they are old buddies. They probably are, you realize. You hadn’t even given it much thought what it exactly Jeff had meant when he said he had arranged for this evening. 

Freckles shoots you a grin as he runs his hand through his hair. “Jensen,” he says easily, “this is Jared, and you already know Danni.” Jared lifts his hand in a little awkward wave while Danni flashes you a smile.  

“Y/N,” you say, ducking your head. It’s a little hard to look at them when a highlight reel of the two of them fucking you six ways to Sunday in front of your husband is still playing in your mind in high definition.  

Jensen chuckles and drags his knuckles down your cheek, lifting your chin. “No need to be shy, sweetie,” he says and you release a nervous breath as Jeff squeezes your hip reassuringly, giving you something to focus on.  

“You know, when Jeff suggested this, I wasn’t sure how this was gonna go, but—” he trails off, glances at his partners. They both nod. “If you ever feel like doing this again in a more private setting, give us a call.”   

Fuck. You are a little mortified but at the same time just the thought makes you clench your thighs.  

He leans in and places a kiss on your cheek before he side-hugs Jeff. “Think about it,” he says with a grin and you watch him throw an arm around Danni’s shoulder before the three of them take off.  

“No pressure,” Jeff mutters as he kisses your temple, his hand squeezing your ass. You already know he will make you feel like a queen once you get home, taking care of your every need.  

You hum softly and lean up to kiss your husband before saying, “I love you.”

He thumbs at your cheekbone and steals another kiss. “I love you, too. Thank you for tonight.” 

And you know you won’t even have to think about it. You know you’re going to call them.  

For you and for Jeff.  

thanks for reading, lemme know if you enjoyed!!!

[call-me-ami]

crawling back to you (negan x reader)

title: crawling back to you

rating: E / 18+

pairing: negan x f!reader

warnings/tags/advertising: power dynamics, daddy kink, orgasm control, brief breathplay, masturbation, fingering, oral sex (m and f rec), p in v, unprotected sex, bit of angst, bit of fluff, lots of smut

word count: 3,978

A/N: for @hswrites for enabling this insanity and finally making me write something for negan. fair warning, i haven’t watched twd in ages but i do very much love jdm, so that should balance itself out. this fills the square “orgasm control” @anyfandomkinkbingo . also available on ao3 if you prefer.

Summary: After disappearing from the Sanctuary in a fit of jealousy, you finally find your way back home.

In hindsight, it hadn’t been your brightest idea to sneak back into the Sanctuary. You struggle fruitlessly against the hands encircling your upper arms as you are marched down a corridor. Stupid. You should have figured he would have guards on your escape hatch after you had disappeared. Alas.

You stumble as you are pushed forward without warning, and you manage to catch yourself before you fall. You find yourself faced with a broad chest in white cotton framed by black leather. Fuck. Stubbornly setting your jaw, you force yourself to look up, into Negan’s grinning, smug face.

“Well fuck me. Look what the cat dragged back in,” he drawls as his fingers grip either side of your chin, tipping your head back further. You scowl at him, but it only makes his grin widen. It’s all for show, though, you know. The stony look in his eyes says it all. “Wanna tell me where the fuck you’ve been, doll?”

Keep reading

[hswrites]

I wanna start by apologizing for my lateness! I read this (and loved it) Sunday but you know I’m an analytical commenter and I didn’t have the time throughout the week with work and new job stuff. But I digress. Here we goooooo:

I have to say that, yet again, I thoroughly enjoyed reading this because of your writing style. You write so vividly, really putting the reader in the story. And let me tell you, the reader running away bc of jealousy was spot on for me LOL. I don’t ever mention Negan’s wives in my fic bc I don’t like to share. I dumped and then bullied my first grade boyfriend for daring to ask me if he could date me and another girl at the same time. If I’m not your one and only I don’t want you!!

But if I have to compromise for Daddy, I guess I will 😩 Could never stay away from him too long.

Keep reading

[call-me-ami]

please never apologize for being busy with rl, i absolutely get that!!

and i am so happy you enjoyed it and that you like the writing style. i am still kinda trying to re-adapt my usual writing style to reader inserts/second person pov so this is a wonderful compliment!!

and yay for emotional whiplash lmao, can't have all that hotness without a little soft!!

thanks for reading and for leaving this wonderful comment!!

[firefly-graphics]

Purple & Black Flower Dividers

Please like and reblog if you use or save.

Requested by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

Dividers List

[call-me-ami]

crawling back to you (negan x reader)

title: crawling back to you

rating: E / 18+

pairing: negan x f!reader

warnings/tags/advertising: power dynamics, daddy kink, orgasm control, brief breathplay, masturbation, fingering, oral sex (m and f rec), p in v, unprotected sex, bit of angst, bit of fluff, lots of smut

word count: 3,978

A/N: for @hswrites for enabling this insanity and finally making me write something for negan. fair warning, i haven't watched twd in ages but i do very much love jdm, so that should balance itself out. this fills the square "orgasm control" @anyfandomkinkbingo . also available on ao3 if you prefer.

Summary: After disappearing from the Sanctuary in a fit of jealousy, you finally find your way back home.

In hindsight, it hadn’t been your brightest idea to sneak back into the Sanctuary. You struggle fruitlessly against the hands encircling your upper arms as you are marched down a corridor. Stupid. You should have figured he would have guards on your escape hatch after you had disappeared. Alas.

You stumble as you are pushed forward without warning, and you manage to catch yourself before you fall. You find yourself faced with a broad chest in white cotton framed by black leather. Fuck. Stubbornly setting your jaw, you force yourself to look up, into Negan’s grinning, smug face.

“Well fuck me. Look what the cat dragged back in,” he drawls as his fingers grip either side of your chin, tipping your head back further. You scowl at him, but it only makes his grin widen. It’s all for show, though, you know. The stony look in his eyes says it all. “Wanna tell me where the fuck you’ve been, doll?”

The “Out,” is on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back. After catching Negan all up in the newest piece of ass that had wandered in off the street—again— you had taken off the ring he had given you, left it on your nightstand and taken off in a fit of jealousy and spite.

Only it had turned out that no matter where you went, as soon as someone just caught as much as a whiff of Negan or Sanctuary on you, you were treated as a pariah. Which was why, after almost two months of debating, you had swallowed your pride and snuck back into the Sanctuary through one of the lesser-known escape routes. You would rather be stuck here with Negan than stuck outside running from the dead as well as the living.

“Scavenging,” you eventually reply and Negan scoffs. You both know it’s a lie. “Oh yeah? You find anything worth scavenging, sweetheart?”

You don’t answer but keep eye contact the whole time. He’s not going to bulldoze you, not in front of his men. You can be just as stubborn as him if you set your mind to it.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Negan finally acquiesces, and you jerk out of his grip the second it loosens. “Get her fucking cleaned up and take her to my quarters. She is not to leave. Post a fucking guard,” he orders with a nod to the two men still hovering behind you.

You bristle when one of them grabs your arm again, and you elbow him in the gut before you can think better of it. “You touch me again, you lose a finger,” you hiss, and Negan barks a laugh as he walks away, amused by your attitude towards his men.

And maybe, just maybe, you had come back because you had missed that crazy, womanizing bastard after all.

Negan’s quarters are just as you remember. Utilitarian, uncluttered, the big bed dominating the space. You take a breath as you sink down onto the edge of the bed, fully expecting a lingering scent of something feminine. To your surprise, you only smell leather and laundry detergent and—Negan. You don’t dare to hope. They probably just changed the sheets recently.

You pick at a loose thread at the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. They hadn’t even let you get dressed in your own clothes after that much needed shower and had just handed you a pair of briefs and a white cotton shirt. Negan staking his claim again before he even lays a hand on you, the cocky bastard.

The minutes tick by and you fall back onto the bed with a sigh. The mattress is soft, heaven to your back after spending so many nights cramped in abandoned cars or on the floor of whatever empty house you had found. Still, you don’t dare to close your eyes, settle for counting the fine cracks in the ceiling instead. You are going to be awake when Negan gets here, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Someone brings you food and water. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you fly upright the second the door opens, your heart pounding in your chest at the thought it might be Negan. You deflate as soon as you recognize one of the men who had manhandled you earlier, but you accept the tacky tray anyway. Your stomach growls at the smell and you scarf down the bland, unseasoned food. It’s still better than anything you had managed to scrounge up in the last few weeks.

Outside, behind the barred window, the sun is setting in pretty reds and yellows. You watch the day slip into night and still no sign of Negan. And yeah, you probably deserve that, the waiting, the not knowing. It’s only a fraction of what you had put him through.

You scramble to your feet when the door finally creaks open, the moon already high up in the sky.  The only source of light is the small bedside lamp, casting the room in shapes and shadows, but you don’t need light to recognize Negan; you’d know his frame anywhere, the broad of his shoulders, the cocky jut of his hip, the long, lean legs.

“Baby,” you breathe, in an effort to mend fences, but he sharply shakes his head, the door closing behind him with a dull thud. He leans back against the faded wood, his eyes burning into yours. You self-consciously toy with the hem of your shirt—his shirt—and his gaze drops to follow the movement.

Negan wordlessly jerks his chin at you, and you hesitate for a moment, prompting a raised eyebrow. You shuffle forward a step before you shrug out of the t-shirt and let it drop to your feet. Your nipples pebble in the cool air and you are acutely aware of his eyes on you, can feel his gaze as intensely as you would his touch. On your face, down your neck, settling on your breasts rising and falling rapidly with each breath.

You can tell the exact moment he clocks the fading bruise on your ribs, his lips twisting into a sour grimace. He doesn’t need to know a walker had almost gotten you a week back. You take a small step forward, but Negan brings his hand up in a gesture for you to stop. He nods to the briefs riding low on your hips and you swallow thickly as you slide your fingers under the elastic to push them down.

You fight the urge to cover up as you step out of the briefs, leaving them on the floor with the shirt. Negan crooks his finger, beckons you closer and you take another step towards him. It makes you feel too exposed, standing there naked with Negan still fully dressed. He lets his gaze wander over your body, head to toe, again and again. You try not to squirm under the scrutiny.

He finally pushes off the door and saunters over to you. You can feel the heat of his body on your skin, even though he still isn’t close enough to touch you. You look up at him, take in his squared jaw, the fire in his eyes. Shit, he is still pissed.

“I’m sor—,” you start, trying to placate him, but Negan places his finger against your lips to shush you and you fall silent again, your heart beating a mile a minute. The two of you had had fights before, but never quite like this, and you’re not sure what he’s going to do.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, drags his knuckles down your cheek. It’s too brief to lean into the touch. Negan traces a finger down your neck, over your collarbone and down your sternum, feather light touches down your body, until he stops to lightly stroke the soft of your lower belly. You tremble under the caress but make a conscious effort not to move a muscle otherwise.

His palm slides back up your body, only stopping to toy with a nipple, making you gasp. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly at the noise, runs his hand all the way up till his thumb presses in just underneath your jaw, his long fingers splaying possessively over your throat, tipping your head back. Your breath hitches and your pulse thunders in your ears. You know he can feel it, your heartbeat rabbiting against his palm.

“Who d’you belong to, sweetheart?” he rasps quietly, and you lick your dry lips, your body thrumming with dread. Anticipation. Both. “Y-you,” you stutter out. His grip tightens and your eyes widen. It’s not enough to cut off your air supply but you are starting to feel the resistance with each breath. “What was that?” His eyes are sparkling at you, part anger, part—something else. Oh.

“Only you, daddy,” you hurry to correct your answer. Negan hums in response, a low sound in this throat, and his grip eases. You suck in a deep breath on instinct, trying to ignore the low throb that is starting between your legs.

Negan steps closer to you, right up in your space, as he brings his lips to your ear, murmurs right against the shell, “That’s right, baby girl. Now. Get on the bed,” his hand trails down your body, pushes between your thighs without preamble, “and spread ‘em for me.”

You shiver, the muscles in your thighs clenching against his palm, so close to your pussy but not quite touching you, the ghost of it making your skin tingle. “Go ahead, doll. On your back,” he urges, and you nod, shuffle backwards till the mattress hits the back of your legs.

You scoot on the bed till your head hits the pillow, and you stretch out on the big bed, let your legs fall open. “Wider,” comes the instant demand, and you spread your legs a little wider. Negan’s growl sends a shiver down your spine as he comes closer, leans in to push your legs wide, the calluses on his hands dragging against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The stretch in your muscles is delicious, just this side of too much.

“Hmm, there we go. Touch yourself, get that little pussy all nice and wet for Daddy,” he rumbles, and you feel a blush chasing up your cheeks. It’s one thing to touch yourself when you’re alone but it feels—different, doing it in front of someone else. In front of Negan.

You tentatively skate a hand down your body and between your legs, teasing yourself with light, soft touches along the crease of your thigh. Your breath hitches when you finally circle your clit, the pressure of your fingers sending a wave of pleasure through your body, hips hitching into the touch, eyes fluttering close.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he orders, voice rough, and you force your eyes open, looking at Negan as he keeps looking at your pussy, watching you run your finger down your slit to gather some slick before rubbing at your clit again. He shifts, reaches down to adjust himself, and you grin as you redouble your efforts and curl a finger into your entrance. Your hips come up to meet the intrusion and you sneak in a second, pump your fingers faster and faster with that obscene little schlick-schlick-schlick, teasing your clit with the other hand. You are so close, the beginnings of an orgasm already coiling in your belly, body tensing in anticipation of the final stroke to send you over the edge. Negan licks his lips, groans softly, before— “Enough.”

You still your hands, your breath coming rapidly, and you whine as you pull your free fingers free. So close. And he knows, can read your body like an open book.

“You think you fucking deserve to come?” he asks as he takes off his jacket. Yes, you think through the hazy fog of pleasure in your brain. He knees onto the bed between your open legs, smacks your thigh and you jolt. “Do you, Y/N?”

“No, Daddy,” you shudder out, and he hums, pleased. “Damn right, you don’t. Hands above your head, doll. And don’t move.”

You reluctantly stretch your arms up, holding on to your own wrist, as Negan moves in closer to you. He bites the inside of your thigh without warning, and you keen at the sharp of his teeth, the bristle of his beard against your skin. Your back arches and he pins you to the bed with an arm across your hips as he licks at your clit, then softly blows on it. You feel yourself clench on air and he chuckles, the sound vibrating right through you with how close he is.

“This pussy is mine, got that, sweetheart?” You bite your lip, nod, his breath fanning hotly over your sensitive flesh with every exhale. He licks your slit, hole to clit, and your hips jerk against his hold; the sweet suction of his lips closing around your most sensitive part sending your arousal ramping up high again.

“Jesus,” you breathe as he moves lower to tongue at your entrance, sucking at it, before pushing in with two long fingers without warning, making your toes curl with pleasure. “Hm, missed that sweet taste,” he says with a smack of his lips, the vibrations of his voice rippling over your skin, the rasp of his beard against your labia making you squirm.

You whimper as his fingers pump, curl, relentlessly, teasing against your g-spot as his lips seal around your clit again. In no time at all you are at the brink again, so close you can almost taste it, but just as you are about to peak, Negan pulls away. Fingers gone; mouth gone. You mewl in frustration as he sits back onto his heels with a shit-eating grin, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Not yet, sweetheart, we’re not done,” he drawls, teasing, enjoying your misery. And God, you could kill him right now, your pleasure ebbing away from the edge oh-so-slowly with the sudden lack of stimulation, your pussy fluttering around nothing.

He pushes to stand, takes off his shirt and you let your eyes roam his naked chest, take in the scabbed-over cut on his left pec. That’s new. Your face briefly dips into a frown, but then you spot the necklace around his neck, your ring glittering at you in the soft light and your heart melts a little despite the games he’s playing. He had found it, kept it, and close to his heart at that. Suddenly, it seems ridiculously easy to forgi—

“C’mon, up,” he orders, and just like that the moment is gone.

You shift to sit at the edge of the bed as he undoes his belt with a clink, opens his pants.

You push to stand on shaky legs, reaching out to get your hand on his dick.

“Ah, ah, on your knees, sweetheart, Daddy wants to see if your little mouth is still as warm and wet as he remembers.” Jesus, your pussy clenches just at the thought of having him in your mouth. You sink to your knees in front of him, the bed against your back and he strokes himself as he steps closer. “Open up, doll.”

You do, drop your jaw, stick your tongue out, like you know he likes. He slaps the weeping tip against your tongue a couple of times, his salty-bitter flavor bursting in your mouth. You tease against the underside, and he groans softly before his hands twist into your hair, and he slides himself onto your tongue.

You do your best to get him nice and wet, knowing it will make things easier when—you gag as he hits the back of your throat too soon and he eases up for a moment before pushing in again.

“Let me, c’mon, know you can,” he mutters, more to himself than to you and you concentrate on relaxing, let him slide over your tongue, against your soft palate and into your throat. You suck in a harsh breath through your nose, the familiar smell of his musk filling your nostrils, as you swallow reflexively around the dick invading your throat, hands curled around the back of his thighs.

You sputter when Negan pulls back, only long enough for you to gulp in a breath, two, before he fucks back in. It’s messy and sloppy-wet and the sounds Negan pulls out of your throat with every shove of his hips are obscenely loud, your whole world reduced to the drag of his dick over your tongue and the pulsing throb between your legs.

You shift, clench your thighs as you swallow around him again, and he softly slaps your cheek, pushes his boot between your knees to keep you from getting any friction on your aching clit.

“None of that,” he chastises, his breathing ragged, and you groan softly around him as you are denied any relief once again. He pulls out a little just to jerk back in deep, letting your throat muscles massage the sensitive head. Your eyes start to water as you suck in desperate breaths through your nose.

“Jesus fuck, your mouth, doll,” he praises as he pulls out, a string of spit keeping your lip and his dick connected. You cough, swallow to clear your throat, taste the bitter precum on your tongue, your lips. “What do you say when Daddy gives you a compliment?”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you say, your voice raspy and raw and he cradles your jaw in one big hand, wipes the spit from your lips with his thumb. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Negan helps you up, steadies you as you sway in place. He tips your face up with a finger under your chin, his eyes searching yours. For a moment, you think, dare to hope, that he’s about to kiss you with how he leans into you. He doesn’t. Instead, you are being manhandled back onto the bed, arranged to his liking on your hands and knees. The thunk of his boots on the floor, the rustle of clothes as he gets out of his pants. You tremble in anticipation.

You collapse to your elbows when two fingers sink back into your pussy without preamble, pumping once, twice before leaving you achingly empty again, your thighs trembling.

“Still soaked for me, huh, sweetheart? You wanna come?”

You swallow thickly at the thought. “God, yes, please daddy,” you mumble into the sheets, and he chuckles behind you.

“Hm, maybe later, yeah?” You jerk when the tip of his hard dick teases between your folds and his free hand curves over your hip to hold you still. His groan echoes yours as he presses into you, slow, making you feel every inch. The stretch is delicious, your body blooming open for him as if it remembers him.

You bite your own wrist to keep in the embarrassing noise that’s bubbling up in your throat when he brushes your g-spot before bottoming out, his fingers flexing on your hips.

You feel like your whole body is quivering with pent-up arousal, pussy rippling over Negan’s dick as you accommodate the stretch. He makes a pleased noise behind you, runs a hand down your back, before bringing his open palm down on your ass.

“Like a fuckin glove,” he breathes reverently, sex-drunk, and you clench around him, drawing a groan. God, you want to come so bad. He sets a languid pace that lets you feel every ridge, every vein, rubbing against your most sensitive spots.

“Daddy,” you whine as he sinks himself in deep. He grunts in reply, allows himself a couple more thrusts before he stills, staying buried deep inside you. You rest your forehead against the mattress beneath you and take a few steadying breaths. It feels like you are vibrating out of your skin with need, your nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body tingling, the touch of Negan’s hands on your hips red-hot.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes, right before indulging in another balls-deep stroke into you that sends you scrambling forward. He pulls you back by your hips, and the noise that escapes your lips has Negan chuckling breathlessly. “So close, aren’t you?” Your fingers curl into the sheets when he pulls almost all the way out, teasing your entrance with the thick head of his dick, popping in and out of you a few times.

“Please, Negan,” you plead, giving up all pretense, your entire body trembling when he pulls out, leaving you achingly empty.

“Alright, sweetheart, alright.” He pats your thigh, softly, and you collapse onto your front, before he turns you over with ease. He’s a sight, fully naked, his dick hard, glistening with your slick, and your head tips back on a moan as he palms himself, the slick slide of skin on skin echoing loudly in the room.

“Please,” you breathe, your legs falling open to make space for him as he stretches over you, his hands next to your head. You slide your palms up his chest, let them curve over his shoulders to the back of his neck.

“Ne— oh fuck,” you choke out as he chooses that moment to re-enter you, fucking into you in one long stroke.

“Yeah,” he agrees mindlessly, and you can’t help yourself. You let your hand follow the chain around his neck, let your fingers twist around it just above your ring. He follows easily when you tug, pulling him close enough that your lips are almost touching, breath mingling between you as he settles into a torturously slow rhythm, Negan's forehead dropping to yours.

“I need—,” you start, the low pull of pleasure in your belly building in ever-increasing waves with every drag of his dick against your oversensitive walls, muscles clenching around him uncontrollably.

“Yeah, Y/N, fuck, can feel you sucking me in, such a greedy, little—” You tug him down the last inch to crush your lips together, forcing him onto his elbows, caging you in under his body. It tastes and feels like home.

You last two more erratic thrusts before your pleasure finally peaks, crashing over you in an overwhelming rush that has your vision whiting out for a moment with its intensity, your lips parting in a gasp against Negan’s, breaking the connection. He ruts into you, through the spasming muscles making you impossibly tight, and he grunts, groans lowly into your ear, beard rasping against your cheek, as he spills into you.

“Fuck me,” you laugh breathlessly once your heart has stopped hammering so hard in your chest, your hand running into the sweaty hair at the back of Negan’s neck. He snorts a laugh into your shoulder before pressing a kiss there. “Shit, gimme a fuckin’ minute, sweetheart.”

It’s only when your breathing has evened out, his body still heavy on yours, softening dick still nestled inside you that you dare to whisper a soft, “I’m sorry,” into his neck. Thinking about it now, the punishment of disappearing on him hadn’t really fit his crime of flirting a bit too aggressively with that new tramp. Unfortunately, your temper hadn’t made that distinction then.

He hums softly, pulls back just far enough to brush a strand of hair out of your eyes, his big hands framing your face. “You’re forgiven.” You hiccup a relieved little laugh, let him drag his thumb over your lower lip, pull it down a little. “But you ever pull a fuckin’ stunt like that again, sweetheart, I will fuckin’ hunt you down and make you regret it, are we understood?”

You nod shakily, giddily, steal another kiss. You have absolutely no doubt that he means it.

feedback and likes (or kudos) are very much appreciated!!

tags: @starry-night-20

[call-me-ami]

crawling back to you (negan x reader)

title: crawling back to you

rating: E / 18+

pairing: negan x f!reader

warnings/tags/advertising: power dynamics, daddy kink, orgasm control, brief breathplay, masturbation, fingering, oral sex (m and f rec), p in v, unprotected sex, bit of angst, bit of fluff, lots of smut

word count: 3,978

A/N: for @hswrites for enabling this insanity and finally making me write something for negan. fair warning, i haven't watched twd in ages but i do very much love jdm, so that should balance itself out. this fills the square "orgasm control" @anyfandomkinkbingo . also available on ao3 if you prefer.

Summary: After disappearing from the Sanctuary in a fit of jealousy, you finally find your way back home.

In hindsight, it hadn’t been your brightest idea to sneak back into the Sanctuary. You struggle fruitlessly against the hands encircling your upper arms as you are marched down a corridor. Stupid. You should have figured he would have guards on your escape hatch after you had disappeared. Alas.

You stumble as you are pushed forward without warning, and you manage to catch yourself before you fall. You find yourself faced with a broad chest in white cotton framed by black leather. Fuck. Stubbornly setting your jaw, you force yourself to look up, into Negan’s grinning, smug face.

“Well fuck me. Look what the cat dragged back in,” he drawls as his fingers grip either side of your chin, tipping your head back further. You scowl at him, but it only makes his grin widen. It’s all for show, though, you know. The stony look in his eyes says it all. “Wanna tell me where the fuck you’ve been, doll?”

The “Out,” is on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back. After catching Negan all up in the newest piece of ass that had wandered in off the street—again— you had taken off the ring he had given you, left it on your nightstand and taken off in a fit of jealousy and spite.

Only it had turned out that no matter where you went, as soon as someone just caught as much as a whiff of Negan or Sanctuary on you, you were treated as a pariah. Which was why, after almost two months of debating, you had swallowed your pride and snuck back into the Sanctuary through one of the lesser-known escape routes. You would rather be stuck here with Negan than stuck outside running from the dead as well as the living.

“Scavenging,” you eventually reply and Negan scoffs. You both know it’s a lie. “Oh yeah? You find anything worth scavenging, sweetheart?”

You don’t answer but keep eye contact the whole time. He’s not going to bulldoze you, not in front of his men. You can be just as stubborn as him if you set your mind to it.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Negan finally acquiesces, and you jerk out of his grip the second it loosens. “Get her fucking cleaned up and take her to my quarters. She is not to leave. Post a fucking guard,” he orders with a nod to the two men still hovering behind you.

You bristle when one of them grabs your arm again, and you elbow him in the gut before you can think better of it. “You touch me again, you lose a finger,” you hiss, and Negan barks a laugh as he walks away, amused by your attitude towards his men.

And maybe, just maybe, you had come back because you had missed that crazy, womanizing bastard after all.

Negan’s quarters are just as you remember. Utilitarian, uncluttered, the big bed dominating the space. You take a breath as you sink down onto the edge of the bed, fully expecting a lingering scent of something feminine. To your surprise, you only smell leather and laundry detergent and—Negan. You don’t dare to hope. They probably just changed the sheets recently.

You pick at a loose thread at the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. They hadn’t even let you get dressed in your own clothes after that much needed shower and had just handed you a pair of briefs and a white cotton shirt. Negan staking his claim again before he even lays a hand on you, the cocky bastard.

The minutes tick by and you fall back onto the bed with a sigh. The mattress is soft, heaven to your back after spending so many nights cramped in abandoned cars or on the floor of whatever empty house you had found. Still, you don’t dare to close your eyes, settle for counting the fine cracks in the ceiling instead. You are going to be awake when Negan gets here, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Someone brings you food and water. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you fly upright the second the door opens, your heart pounding in your chest at the thought it might be Negan. You deflate as soon as you recognize one of the men who had manhandled you earlier, but you accept the tacky tray anyway. Your stomach growls at the smell and you scarf down the bland, unseasoned food. It’s still better than anything you had managed to scrounge up in the last few weeks.

Outside, behind the barred window, the sun is setting in pretty reds and yellows. You watch the day slip into night and still no sign of Negan. And yeah, you probably deserve that, the waiting, the not knowing. It’s only a fraction of what you had put him through.

You scramble to your feet when the door finally creaks open, the moon already high up in the sky.  The only source of light is the small bedside lamp, casting the room in shapes and shadows, but you don’t need light to recognize Negan; you’d know his frame anywhere, the broad of his shoulders, the cocky jut of his hip, the long, lean legs.

“Baby,” you breathe, in an effort to mend fences, but he sharply shakes his head, the door closing behind him with a dull thud. He leans back against the faded wood, his eyes burning into yours. You self-consciously toy with the hem of your shirt—his shirt—and his gaze drops to follow the movement.

Negan wordlessly jerks his chin at you, and you hesitate for a moment, prompting a raised eyebrow. You shuffle forward a step before you shrug out of the t-shirt and let it drop to your feet. Your nipples pebble in the cool air and you are acutely aware of his eyes on you, can feel his gaze as intensely as you would his touch. On your face, down your neck, settling on your breasts rising and falling rapidly with each breath.

You can tell the exact moment he clocks the fading bruise on your ribs, his lips twisting into a sour grimace. He doesn’t need to know a walker had almost gotten you a week back. You take a small step forward, but Negan brings his hand up in a gesture for you to stop. He nods to the briefs riding low on your hips and you swallow thickly as you slide your fingers under the elastic to push them down.

You fight the urge to cover up as you step out of the briefs, leaving them on the floor with the shirt. Negan crooks his finger, beckons you closer and you take another step towards him. It makes you feel too exposed, standing there naked with Negan still fully dressed. He lets his gaze wander over your body, head to toe, again and again. You try not to squirm under the scrutiny.

He finally pushes off the door and saunters over to you. You can feel the heat of his body on your skin, even though he still isn’t close enough to touch you. You look up at him, take in his squared jaw, the fire in his eyes. Shit, he is still pissed.

“I’m sor—,” you start, trying to placate him, but Negan places his finger against your lips to shush you and you fall silent again, your heart beating a mile a minute. The two of you had had fights before, but never quite like this, and you’re not sure what he’s going to do.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, drags his knuckles down your cheek. It’s too brief to lean into the touch. Negan traces a finger down your neck, over your collarbone and down your sternum, feather light touches down your body, until he stops to lightly stroke the soft of your lower belly. You tremble under the caress but make a conscious effort not to move a muscle otherwise.

His palm slides back up your body, only stopping to toy with a nipple, making you gasp. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly at the noise, runs his hand all the way up till his thumb presses in just underneath your jaw, his long fingers splaying possessively over your throat, tipping your head back. Your breath hitches and your pulse thunders in your ears. You know he can feel it, your heartbeat rabbiting against his palm.

“Who d’you belong to, sweetheart?” he rasps quietly, and you lick your dry lips, your body thrumming with dread. Anticipation. Both. “Y-you,” you stutter out. His grip tightens and your eyes widen. It’s not enough to cut off your air supply but you are starting to feel the resistance with each breath. “What was that?” His eyes are sparkling at you, part anger, part—something else. Oh.

“Only you, daddy,” you hurry to correct your answer. Negan hums in response, a low sound in this throat, and his grip eases. You suck in a deep breath on instinct, trying to ignore the low throb that is starting between your legs.

Negan steps closer to you, right up in your space, as he brings his lips to your ear, murmurs right against the shell, “That’s right, baby girl. Now. Get on the bed,” his hand trails down your body, pushes between your thighs without preamble, “and spread ‘em for me.”

You shiver, the muscles in your thighs clenching against his palm, so close to your pussy but not quite touching you, the ghost of it making your skin tingle. “Go ahead, doll. On your back,” he urges, and you nod, shuffle backwards till the mattress hits the back of your legs.

You scoot on the bed till your head hits the pillow, and you stretch out on the big bed, let your legs fall open. “Wider,” comes the instant demand, and you spread your legs a little wider. Negan’s growl sends a shiver down your spine as he comes closer, leans in to push your legs wide, the calluses on his hands dragging against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The stretch in your muscles is delicious, just this side of too much.

“Hmm, there we go. Touch yourself, get that little pussy all nice and wet for Daddy,” he rumbles, and you feel a blush chasing up your cheeks. It’s one thing to touch yourself when you’re alone but it feels—different, doing it in front of someone else. In front of Negan.

You tentatively skate a hand down your body and between your legs, teasing yourself with light, soft touches along the crease of your thigh. Your breath hitches when you finally circle your clit, the pressure of your fingers sending a wave of pleasure through your body, hips hitching into the touch, eyes fluttering close.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he orders, voice rough, and you force your eyes open, looking at Negan as he keeps looking at your pussy, watching you run your finger down your slit to gather some slick before rubbing at your clit again. He shifts, reaches down to adjust himself, and you grin as you redouble your efforts and curl a finger into your entrance. Your hips come up to meet the intrusion and you sneak in a second, pump your fingers faster and faster with that obscene little schlick-schlick-schlick, teasing your clit with the other hand. You are so close, the beginnings of an orgasm already coiling in your belly, body tensing in anticipation of the final stroke to send you over the edge. Negan licks his lips, groans softly, before— “Enough.”

You still your hands, your breath coming rapidly, and you whine as you pull your free fingers free. So close. And he knows, can read your body like an open book.

“You think you fucking deserve to come?” he asks as he takes off his jacket. Yes, you think through the hazy fog of pleasure in your brain. He knees onto the bed between your open legs, smacks your thigh and you jolt. “Do you, Y/N?”

“No, Daddy,” you shudder out, and he hums, pleased. “Damn right, you don’t. Hands above your head, doll. And don’t move.”

You reluctantly stretch your arms up, holding on to your own wrist, as Negan moves in closer to you. He bites the inside of your thigh without warning, and you keen at the sharp of his teeth, the bristle of his beard against your skin. Your back arches and he pins you to the bed with an arm across your hips as he licks at your clit, then softly blows on it. You feel yourself clench on air and he chuckles, the sound vibrating right through you with how close he is.

“This pussy is mine, got that, sweetheart?” You bite your lip, nod, his breath fanning hotly over your sensitive flesh with every exhale. He licks your slit, hole to clit, and your hips jerk against his hold; the sweet suction of his lips closing around your most sensitive part sending your arousal ramping up high again.

“Jesus,” you breathe as he moves lower to tongue at your entrance, sucking at it, before pushing in with two long fingers without warning, making your toes curl with pleasure. “Hm, missed that sweet taste,” he says with a smack of his lips, the vibrations of his voice rippling over your skin, the rasp of his beard against your labia making you squirm.

You whimper as his fingers pump, curl, relentlessly, teasing against your g-spot as his lips seal around your clit again. In no time at all you are at the brink again, so close you can almost taste it, but just as you are about to peak, Negan pulls away. Fingers gone; mouth gone. You mewl in frustration as he sits back onto his heels with a shit-eating grin, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Not yet, sweetheart, we’re not done,” he drawls, teasing, enjoying your misery. And God, you could kill him right now, your pleasure ebbing away from the edge oh-so-slowly with the sudden lack of stimulation, your pussy fluttering around nothing.

He pushes to stand, takes off his shirt and you let your eyes roam his naked chest, take in the scabbed-over cut on his left pec. That’s new. Your face briefly dips into a frown, but then you spot the necklace around his neck, your ring glittering at you in the soft light and your heart melts a little despite the games he’s playing. He had found it, kept it, and close to his heart at that. Suddenly, it seems ridiculously easy to forgi—

“C’mon, up,” he orders, and just like that the moment is gone.

You shift to sit at the edge of the bed as he undoes his belt with a clink, opens his pants.

You push to stand on shaky legs, reaching out to get your hand on his dick.

“Ah, ah, on your knees, sweetheart, Daddy wants to see if your little mouth is still as warm and wet as he remembers.” Jesus, your pussy clenches just at the thought of having him in your mouth. You sink to your knees in front of him, the bed against your back and he strokes himself as he steps closer. “Open up, doll.”

You do, drop your jaw, stick your tongue out, like you know he likes. He slaps the weeping tip against your tongue a couple of times, his salty-bitter flavor bursting in your mouth. You tease against the underside, and he groans softly before his hands twist into your hair, and he slides himself onto your tongue.

You do your best to get him nice and wet, knowing it will make things easier when—you gag as he hits the back of your throat too soon and he eases up for a moment before pushing in again.

“Let me, c’mon, know you can,” he mutters, more to himself than to you and you concentrate on relaxing, let him slide over your tongue, against your soft palate and into your throat. You suck in a harsh breath through your nose, the familiar smell of his musk filling your nostrils, as you swallow reflexively around the dick invading your throat, hands curled around the back of his thighs.

You sputter when Negan pulls back, only long enough for you to gulp in a breath, two, before he fucks back in. It’s messy and sloppy-wet and the sounds Negan pulls out of your throat with every shove of his hips are obscenely loud, your whole world reduced to the drag of his dick over your tongue and the pulsing throb between your legs.

You shift, clench your thighs as you swallow around him again, and he softly slaps your cheek, pushes his boot between your knees to keep you from getting any friction on your aching clit.

“None of that,” he chastises, his breathing ragged, and you groan softly around him as you are denied any relief once again. He pulls out a little just to jerk back in deep, letting your throat muscles massage the sensitive head. Your eyes start to water as you suck in desperate breaths through your nose.

“Jesus fuck, your mouth, doll,” he praises as he pulls out, a string of spit keeping your lip and his dick connected. You cough, swallow to clear your throat, taste the bitter precum on your tongue, your lips. “What do you say when Daddy gives you a compliment?”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you say, your voice raspy and raw and he cradles your jaw in one big hand, wipes the spit from your lips with his thumb. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Negan helps you up, steadies you as you sway in place. He tips your face up with a finger under your chin, his eyes searching yours. For a moment, you think, dare to hope, that he’s about to kiss you with how he leans into you. He doesn’t. Instead, you are being manhandled back onto the bed, arranged to his liking on your hands and knees. The thunk of his boots on the floor, the rustle of clothes as he gets out of his pants. You tremble in anticipation.

You collapse to your elbows when two fingers sink back into your pussy without preamble, pumping once, twice before leaving you achingly empty again, your thighs trembling.

“Still soaked for me, huh, sweetheart? You wanna come?”

You swallow thickly at the thought. “God, yes, please daddy,” you mumble into the sheets, and he chuckles behind you.

“Hm, maybe later, yeah?” You jerk when the tip of his hard dick teases between your folds and his free hand curves over your hip to hold you still. His groan echoes yours as he presses into you, slow, making you feel every inch. The stretch is delicious, your body blooming open for him as if it remembers him.

You bite your own wrist to keep in the embarrassing noise that’s bubbling up in your throat when he brushes your g-spot before bottoming out, his fingers flexing on your hips.

You feel like your whole body is quivering with pent-up arousal, pussy rippling over Negan’s dick as you accommodate the stretch. He makes a pleased noise behind you, runs a hand down your back, before bringing his open palm down on your ass.

“Like a fuckin glove,” he breathes reverently, sex-drunk, and you clench around him, drawing a groan. God, you want to come so bad. He sets a languid pace that lets you feel every ridge, every vein, rubbing against your most sensitive spots.

“Daddy,” you whine as he sinks himself in deep. He grunts in reply, allows himself a couple more thrusts before he stills, staying buried deep inside you. You rest your forehead against the mattress beneath you and take a few steadying breaths. It feels like you are vibrating out of your skin with need, your nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body tingling, the touch of Negan’s hands on your hips red-hot.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes, right before indulging in another balls-deep stroke into you that sends you scrambling forward. He pulls you back by your hips, and the noise that escapes your lips has Negan chuckling breathlessly. “So close, aren’t you?” Your fingers curl into the sheets when he pulls almost all the way out, teasing your entrance with the thick head of his dick, popping in and out of you a few times.

“Please, Negan,” you plead, giving up all pretense, your entire body trembling when he pulls out, leaving you achingly empty.

“Alright, sweetheart, alright.” He pats your thigh, softly, and you collapse onto your front, before he turns you over with ease. He’s a sight, fully naked, his dick hard, glistening with your slick, and your head tips back on a moan as he palms himself, the slick slide of skin on skin echoing loudly in the room.

“Please,” you breathe, your legs falling open to make space for him as he stretches over you, his hands next to your head. You slide your palms up his chest, let them curve over his shoulders to the back of his neck.

“Ne— oh fuck,” you choke out as he chooses that moment to re-enter you, fucking into you in one long stroke.

“Yeah,” he agrees mindlessly, and you can’t help yourself. You let your hand follow the chain around his neck, let your fingers twist around it just above your ring. He follows easily when you tug, pulling him close enough that your lips are almost touching, breath mingling between you as he settles into a torturously slow rhythm, Negan's forehead dropping to yours.

“I need—,” you start, the low pull of pleasure in your belly building in ever-increasing waves with every drag of his dick against your oversensitive walls, muscles clenching around him uncontrollably.

“Yeah, Y/N, fuck, can feel you sucking me in, such a greedy, little—” You tug him down the last inch to crush your lips together, forcing him onto his elbows, caging you in under his body. It tastes and feels like home.

You last two more erratic thrusts before your pleasure finally peaks, crashing over you in an overwhelming rush that has your vision whiting out for a moment with its intensity, your lips parting in a gasp against Negan’s, breaking the connection. He ruts into you, through the spasming muscles making you impossibly tight, and he grunts, groans lowly into your ear, beard rasping against your cheek, as he spills into you.

“Fuck me,” you laugh breathlessly once your heart has stopped hammering so hard in your chest, your hand running into the sweaty hair at the back of Negan’s neck. He snorts a laugh into your shoulder before pressing a kiss there. “Shit, gimme a fuckin’ minute, sweetheart.”

It’s only when your breathing has evened out, his body still heavy on yours, softening dick still nestled inside you that you dare to whisper a soft, “I’m sorry,” into his neck. Thinking about it now, the punishment of disappearing on him hadn’t really fit his crime of flirting a bit too aggressively with that new tramp. Unfortunately, your temper hadn’t made that distinction then.

He hums softly, pulls back just far enough to brush a strand of hair out of your eyes, his big hands framing your face. “You’re forgiven.” You hiccup a relieved little laugh, let him drag his thumb over your lower lip, pull it down a little. “But you ever pull a fuckin’ stunt like that again, sweetheart, I will fuckin’ hunt you down and make you regret it, are we understood?”

You nod shakily, giddily, steal another kiss. You have absolutely no doubt that he means it.

feedback and likes (or kudos) are very much appreciated!!

tags: @starry-night-20

[call-me-ami]

Guess who finally has some free time!!!

🎵

Can’t wait to see what your come up with 😁

okay, so the song is crawling back to you by daughtry but since i am unable to write ficlets and this has spiralled into almost 4k, i will post this for you in a separate tomorrow!!!

[call-me-ami]

teaser - crawling back to you - coming soon

Pairing: Negan x f!Reader

Summary: After disappearing from the Sanctuary in a fit of jealousy, you finally find your way back home.

A/N: all your fault btw @hswrites

::

In hindsight, it hadn’t been your brightest idea to sneak back into the Sanctuary. You struggle fruitlessly against the hands encircling your upper arms as you are marched down a corridor. Stupid. You should have figured he would have guards on your escape hatch after you had disappeared. Alas.

You stumble as you are pushed forward without warning, and you manage to catch yourself before you fall. You find yourself faced with a broad chest in white cotton framed by black leather. Fuck. Stubbornly setting your jaw, you force yourself to look up, into Negan’s grinning, smug face.

“Well fuck me. Look what the cat dragged back in,” he drawls as his fingers grip either side of your chin, tipping your head back further. You scowl at him, but it only makes his grin widen. It’s all for show, though, you know. The stony look in his eyes says it all. “Wanna tell me where the fuck you’ve been, doll?”

[call-me-ami]

COMING SUNDAY 02/06/22

[call-me-ami]

Title: Closer to you

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader (she/her/you)

Rating: E/18+

Word Count: 1,846

Square Filled: Missionary @anyfandomfluffbingo

Warnings/Advertising: fluff, smut, pwp, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), fingering, p in v

A/N: I haven't written reader inserts in almost 15 years and I'm still trying to fit my current writing style to this genre. Feedback much appreciated.

Summary: Sometimes the best thing about date night is how it ends.

You giggle as your back hits the mattress with a bounce. Dean grins at you from the foot of the bed, hands working to undo his pants as he lets his eyes rove over your body.

“Jesus, look at you,” he says appreciatively and you can feel your cheeks heat as you shift up onto your elbows.

“Not so bad yourself,” you quip as you take in the broad expanse of his naked chest, the dark ink on his pec, the smooth planes of his stomach, right down to where his pants are barely hiding his arousal.

You are itching to touch, get your hands on him, as you have been all evening.

Going out for date night had seemed like a good idea in theory, but once you and Dean had been separated by a table and the only point of contact had been your fingers (and the foot you had cheekily rubbed up and up and up his leg under the table), you couldn’t wait for the meal to be over.

Which had led you here, a dinner and a leisurely stroll later, spread out naked on Dean’s bed, with the man towering over you like some kind of god.

You lick your lips when his pants finally drop, the outline of his erection clearly visible through the cotton of his briefs. He teases a finger into the waistband, and you flop back onto the mattress with a groan when he decides to make a show of removing the last piece of clothing.

“C’mon sweetie, eyes on me,” he laughs and you bring your eyes back to where he’s finally peeling off his briefs. You groan in unison when his erection is freed, and he palms himself for a moment, stroking himself slowly as his eyes keep roaming your body.

The mattress dips when he knees onto the bed, his calloused hand drifting up from your ankle to your thigh, softly rubbing circles with his thumb as he splays his hand on your inner thigh, tipping your leg open.

You exhale shakily, bring your hand up to cup your breast, pinch the nipple. Dean groans softly as he mirrors your actions, softly kneads the supple flesh, his eyes never leaving yours.

“So gorgeous,” Dean breathes as he drags his flat palm down your body and you arch into the touch, chasing the feeling of his hand on your skin.

“Kiss me,” you demand breathlessly, as you try to close your thighs for just a little bit of friction on your throbbing clit.

“Yeah?” he asks teasingly, preventing your thighs from closing with a little pressure from his fingers.

“Yeah, please, Dean, just-,” you trail off into a moan as his thumb brushes your clit, once, twice, circling softly, before sliding between your folds, teasing lightly at your entrance.

You can’t stop your hips from bucking into the touch, chasing the sensation, and he chuckles above you as he sucks his thumb between his lips, tasting you, before leaning in and dipping down to press his lips to yours.

He tastes like whiskey and apple pie and you as he tangles his tongue with yours for a brief moment before pulling back with a kiss to the side of your mouth.

Your body thrums with arousal, pulsing through you with every heartbeat, and having Dean so close, almost on top of you, is sending your body into overdrive.

“Gonna let me taste you for real?” he husks into your ear and you squirm beneath him at the mere thought, your pussy clenching on nothing, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

You bury your face in his neck with a sighed, “yes,” the graze of your teeth against his jaw making him shiver.

He kisses you again, deep and hungry, before sliding back down your body, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your sternum, your stomach. You suck in a breath when he spreads you open to his gaze with big hands on both thighs, his breath ghosting wet-hot over your sensitive flesh.

Your head tips back into the pillow at the first touch of tongue against your clit, the pleasure sparking up your spine and spilling from your parted lips in a pitchy moan. You bite your lip hard to keep from making more embarrassing sounds, only giving a small whimper when Dean flattens his tongue to lick a broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit.

“Don’t hold back, lemme hear you,” he says, and you can hear the smug grin in his voice even if you can’t see it. Your hands fly to his head, twist into the short strands of his hair, when his lips close around your clit and he sucks gently.

He doesn’t need your guidance; his flickering tongue and the soft suction driving you higher and higher with every passing moment, your moans getting louder and louder.

You mewl in protest when he pulls off with a wet pop way too soon, leaving you hanging on the edge. You release his head with a frustrated noise, fling your arms up to cover your eyes.

“You wanna come for me, sweetie?” he teases. Your reply dies on your lips when two fingers sink into you without warning, curling in and up and sending your hips flying, his tongue flicking mercilessly at your clit.

You can feel the quiver in your thighs, the low pull of pleasure in your belly, building and building, until it peaks and you clench around his fingers with a cry of his name as your orgasm ripples through you, your back bowing.

You tremble with an aftershock as he gently pulls his fingers from you, tongues at your entrance to taste more of you. He hums against you, the vibration making you shiver, before he sits back on his heels, strokes his soaked fingers over his straining dick as his other hands runs soothingly up your side.

“I want you inside me,” you say breathily as you drop your arms, run your fingers through your hair, allow yourself to take in the sight of him: his chin and fingers and dick all glistening with your slick, his pupils blown, his hips hitching into his own touch on every other stroke. It’s enough to ramp up your arousal again, send a fresh wave of desire straight to you core, and you crook a finger at him, beckoning him closer.

You groan softly when Dean knees closer, stretching out over your body with his hands planted either side of your head, the thick head of his dick nudging through your folds. You pull him in for a kiss, run your fingers into the short buzz of his hair at the base of his skull, as you cant your hips up impatiently.

“Please, baby, I need you,” you whisper as you mouth up his jawline, suck his earlobe between your lips. He drops to his elbows with a groan, his dick catching against your opening as his hips rock forward.

You tip your hips up just the tiniest bit on the next roll of his hips and your breath catches in your throat when he enters you with a low growl, working you soft and open with every little push forward. You can feel your muscles flutter around the intrusion and from the way Dean’s breath stutters against your lips, you think he can feel it, too.

“Fuck,” he chokes out and you hiccup a breathless laugh in agreement as he sinks in the rest of the way.

You arch up, pressing your breasts closer to the muscled body caging you in, your hands falling limply to the mattress. Dean groans into your ear, a soft, low sound that you can feel reverberate all the way down your spine.

His hips flex, pushing himself deeper into your hot-wet heat clenching around his aching dick.

“Damn, you feel amazing, sweetheart,” he rasps, interlacing his fingers with yours on either side of your head. You whimper in response, strain up to bring your lips together. Dean nips at your lip, soothes the sting with his tongue, before pressing his full lips to yours.

You moan into the kiss when he churns his hips, pushes impossibly deeper. This close, all you can see, feel, smell is Dean and it’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

“C’mon,” you urge when he stills, pulls away from your lips to mouth hotly down your neck. Your body tingles with every suck and lick, with the rasp of his stubble against your sensitive skin. You clench around his hard length and his hips stutter, a loud groan spilling from his lips. “Fuck, do that again.”

You do, and Dean gives a thrust, pushing into the tightness of your quivering muscles. He hides his face into your shoulder and you wish so much your hands were free, wish you could twist your fingers into the short strands of his hair, rake your nails down his back. As it is, all you can do is arch up, tilt your hips just right to get some delicious friction against your clit.

“Please, De, I need-” you plead breathlessly as you hook your legs over his, entwining your bodies further. He rolls his hips forward, the angle just right to drag up against your g-spot and you keen at the surge of pleasure, your heart racing in your chest.

“What d’you need, sweetheart?”

You can only groan in response when Dean pulls out half-way and snaps back in hard. His skin is sticky-hot with sweat, rubbing deliciously at your nipples with each slide of his chest against yours.

“More,” you exhale on a shaky groan as your head tips back and Dean latches onto your neck, lips and teeth and scratchy stubble, and it’s going to leave a mark, you just know.

You can feel the first tremors of another orgasm starting, making your thighs quake against Dean’s sides, your toes curl. He ruts into you, ratcheting the pleasure higher with every thrust, until it peaks in an overwhelming rush that makes your body tense, holding him tight inside your body, muscles rippling over his hot length.

“Christ, Y/N,” Dean groans, hips stuttering out of rhythm, and he buries his face into your shoulder as he comes, pulsing inside of you, filling you.

You shudder beneath him with a drawn-out moan, clench around him with an aftershock that sends him surging deeper into you, through the hot-slick mess of your combined releases.

Dean's breathing is ragged in your ear, fanning hotly over your skin, raising goosebumps all over.

He finally lets go of your hands, brushes a matted-down strand of hair out of your face. It takes a moment for your breathing to slow, for your eyes to open.

“Hey,” Dean says softly before he gently presses his lips to yours.

“Hey,” you echo with a smile, carding your fingers through his sweaty hair, even if your muscles feel like jelly.

And being this close, so intertwined, so intimate, is by far your favorite part of date night.

[hswrites]

First of all I need you to know that I grinned from ear to ear the entire time I read this bc I’m so impressed with your writing. Your diction is thoughtful and everything flows so nicely. You not only painted a vivid picture, but I loved the way you showed the chemistry!!! Fluffy smut is my weakness.

Secondly, I’m adding a cut bc I will be rambling.

Your A/N shocks me after reading this piece bc you did it so well, okay!! I don’t know anything about your writing from all those years ago, but I can still assure you that you haven’t lost your touch at all.

I am so, so looking forward to more from you, especially with Negan 🤤

Favorite lines:

He tastes like whiskey and apple pie and you

Your body thrums with arousal, pulsing through you with every heartbeat

… he spreads you open to his gaze…

Your reply dies on your lips

All examples of the beautiful, evocative way you put words together

Your body tingles with every suck and lick, with the rasp of his stubble against your sensitive skin. You clench around his hard length and his hips stutter, a loud groan spilling from his lips. “Fuck, do that again.”

Something about “the rasp of his stubble” has really stuck out to me. And don’t get me started on his dialogue 🥴

“More,” you exhale on a shaky groan as your head tips back and Dean latches onto your neck, lips and teeth and scratchy stubble, and it’s going to leave a mark, you just know.

You can feel the first tremors of another orgasm starting, making your thighs quake against Dean’s sides, your toes curl. He ruts into you, ratcheting the pleasure higher with every thrust, until it peaks in an overwhelming rush that makes your body tense, holding him tight inside your body, muscles rippling over his hot length.

The way you blend the things we can easily picture and the sensations felt in moments like this… whew. It’s taken me 3 reads over like 2 weeks to recover enough to put together coherent thoughts LOL

[call-me-ami]

babes....

thank you so much for that wonderful comment omg. ❤️

personally, i live for softness. it doesn't even have to be fluffy but just- soft. i'm a very emotional writer so it's always a bit on the feelingsy side even if it costs me readers sometimes lmao

and be assured, i am working on negan now but the tiny little music snippet somehow has spiraled into 2,5k that i'm still not done with sooooo....

[call-me-ami]

🌹 because I need moooooorreee!!!!

look, i'm not done yet but....

You scramble to your feet when the door finally creaks open, the moon already high up in the sky. The only source of light is the small bedside lamp, casting the room in shapes and shadows, but you don’t need light to recognize Negan; you’d know his frame anywhere, the broad of his shoulders, the cocky jut of his hip, the long, lean legs.

“Baby,” you breathe, in an effort to mend fences but he sharply shakes his head, the door closing behind him with a dull thud.

[call-me-ami]

teaser - crawling back to you - coming soon

Pairing: Negan x f!Reader

Summary: After disappearing from the Sanctuary in a fit of jealousy, you finally find your way back home.

A/N: all your fault btw @hswrites

::

In hindsight, it hadn’t been your brightest idea to sneak back into the Sanctuary. You struggle fruitlessly against the hands encircling your upper arms as you are marched down a corridor. Stupid. You should have figured he would have guards on your escape hatch after you had disappeared. Alas.

You stumble as you are pushed forward without warning, and you manage to catch yourself before you fall. You find yourself faced with a broad chest in white cotton framed by black leather. Fuck. Stubbornly setting your jaw, you force yourself to look up, into Negan’s grinning, smug face.

“Well fuck me. Look what the cat dragged back in,” he drawls as his fingers grip either side of your chin, tipping your head back further. You scowl at him, but it only makes his grin widen. It’s all for show, though, you know. The stony look in his eyes says it all. “Wanna tell me where the fuck you’ve been, doll?”

[firefly-graphics]

Hey.I've been looking for transparent dividers that are not flashy and tacky for so long. I was hoping if you could please make some generic dividers like simple swirls that give a kind of regal, aesthetically pleasing look. I can't find transparent dividers like that. I would really appreciate if you could make some. I love your graphics. Especially your spn ones. I want these dividers for some fanfiction I write. and these kind of dividers work with all text. you don't have to. Thank you, love

Hello! Thank you for your request and your kind words about my graphics - hope you like these (if you’d like them in a different colour then just let me know in a comment).

Please like and reblog if you use or save

Dividers List

[call-me-ami]

Kink Bingo Masterlist

Orgasm Control - crawling back to you - negan x reader - explicit

[call-me-ami]

Title: blackout

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader (she/her/you)

Rating: E/18+

Word Count: 3,179

Square Filled: Drunken Sex @anyfandomangstbingo

Warnings/Advertising: angst, drunk sex, rough oral sex (m rec), fingering, public sex

Summary: You wake up hungover and try to puzzle together the pieces of the night before.

Everything is fuzzy when you open your eyes and blink against the brightness. Your mouth is dry, your throat is sore, your head is pounding. It’s the hangover from hell.

You shift on the bed to sit up, stop when the movement makes your stomach churn for a moment. The wave of nausea subsides and for the first time since waking up you focus on where you are.

The room is small, reeks of old pizza, beer, sex and stale smoke. There’s a flag on the wall behind the bed, some clothes on the floor. None of them yours.

It’s only then you realize you’re naked and another wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere. You stumble out of bed and to the door you hope leads to a bathroom.

Thankfully it does and you barely manage to make it to the toilet before your stomach rebels. Last night’s tequila doesn’t taste any better on the way out than it did on the way in, and you sink down onto the floor when you’re done, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Your head is still spinning but at least your stomach feels better now. You push to stand on shaky legs, run the tap at the sink and rinse your mouth a few times. You find a bottle of mouth in the small cabinet above the sink, tag a swig. It stings in your mouth, the back of your throat, and you spit, rivulets of blue dribbling down the cracked porcelain and into the drain.

You straighten, run a hand through your tangled hair to no avail. Your body aches, and there’s bruises forming on the side of your thigh, finger-shaped over your hip. It makes your stomach roil again but you swallow against the rising bile.

You catch sight of yourself in the mirror on the bathroom door on your way back into the bedroom and you groan. Your hair is a mess, your mascara smeared around your eyes and streaked in tracks down your cheeks. You try to wipe at it, but it only makes it worse.

You bend with a wince to pick up a shirt from the floor, just to get something to cover yourself. You slip it on and it hangs long on your frame, hitting you mid-thigh. It has an emblem on the front, a reaper, and ah yes. The biker.

You had just meant to pick up a bottle of clear from the store in this little nowhere town you were passing through when he had come swaggering in, buying a pack of cigarettes and charming the cashier. Charming you as you had waited for him to finish paying. Joining him for a ‘little party’ had sounded like a good idea when the other option was going to a house party two towns over with all your couple friends and fifth-wheeling the night away.

The rest of the night is still a blur, though.

Your toe snags on something, a scrap of fabric. Your panties, you realize after a quick glance. Or what’s left of them. The shame hits you out of nowhere. Panty-ripping sex that left you aching still in the morning – early afternoon? – and you can’t even remember because you’d been out of your mind with too much tequila. Fuck.

You knuckle at your eyes, itchy with sleep and dried mascara, then make for the door. It leads into a hallway and you peak left and right before padding out of the room. The floor is sticky beneath your bare feet and you wrinkle your nose at the smell of stale beer and smoke that seems to permeate everything.

There’s some noise, movement, up ahead and you follow it, feet slapping loudly with every step on the cold floor. The hallway opens into the main room of the club house and there’s bikers passed out everywhere, on the couch, on the floor, on the bar, facedown on the pool table.

“Mornin’, lassie.”

You startle at the words, wheel around to face the biker leaning casually in the doorway to - you don’t remember, a kitchen, perhaps? - with his hands curled around a coffee mug.

His eyes travel your body, from your face down the shirt and to your bare legs. You self-consciously tug at the hem of the shirt and he huffs a laugh.

“Don’t worry, luv, nothin’ we ‘aven’t already seen last night.” His accent is thick, Irish, you think. You’re not sure.

You duck your head to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks as you hover uncertainly before him. You can still feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze where the shirt hits your thighs.

You force yourself to look up, look the man straight in the eyes. He takes a sip of his coffee, his lips curling into a smirk as he sets the mug down somewhere behind him and pushes up straight.

“Jacky-Boy,” he hollers and you flinch at the loudness. Behind you there’s grumbled protest at the noise from the pool table and your cheeks heat even more when you catch a glimpse of the pink lace the guy’s face is smooched into. God, what the hell did you do last night?

“Hey, darlin',” comes the drawl in your ear before a hand skirts up your bare thigh and under the hem of the shirt, a warm body pressing up behind you. Your first instinct is to flinch away but there’s something about the tone of his voice that makes his body crowding yours feel less predatory. You try to recall a name. Jacky, the other man had yelled. Jack, maybe?

You shiver as he presses a kiss to your neck. Jax. Yeah, that feels right.

“Hey,” you say, your voice breaking on the one syllable, and you clear your throat. Jax chuckles behind you, runs a hand up your body till his warm palm spans your neck, covers your throat. “Sore?” His breath fans hotly over your ear, his lips brushing the shell.

You inhale sharply as images flood your mind, and for a moment you think you might be sick again. Holy shit.

The room is loud, filled with music and raucous laughter, yelled conversation. You are buzzing with the alcohol in your system, one too many tequilas making your body feel warm, tingly, languid. And God, Jax's lips on your neck feel amazing, the soft rasp of his beard against your sensitive skin.

*

You sigh, shift in his lap where you are both seated on the ratty old couch. His hands palm your ass, pull you closer, up against where he’s hard in his jeans. You grind down onto him and he groans, the soft rumble vibrating through you.

His hands skirt up your body, under the flimsy top you’re wearing and you pull back, lift your arms, let him drag it over your head and toss it away. He cups your breasts over the hot pink lace of your bra, leans down to mouth at your nipple through the fabric.

You pull back just far enough to cradle his face in your hands and bring your lips together in a searing kiss that’s messy, uncoordinated, all lips and tongues.

Your head tips back on a breathy sigh and he hums against you, messily kissing up to your neck as his hands skate to your back and deftly undo your bra. He flings it behind you and someone wolf whistles.

You don’t have time to feel embarrassed, though, as he pulls you in for another kiss, open-mouthed, dirty, his other hand going back to play with your nipple again. You gasp into the kiss when he pinches it and you press closer, putting more pressure on his dick.

He grinds up, palms your ass again, fingers splayed, and you give a pitchy moan at the feeling of his hot, hard length pressing against your core, the rough denim against the delicate lace of your panties. You can feel yourself getting wet with the delicious friction, the feel of the lean, strong body beneath you.

Jax laughs breathlessly against your lips when you worm your fingers between your bodies, clumsily undo the button of his jeans, draw down the zipper. He hisses through his teeth when you cup the bulge of his dick and you can’t help a grin.

“Want your mouth, darlin’,” he growls and there’s just the briefest moment of hesitation, at the public setting, the people all around you.

But then his fingertips ghost over your panties, just a bit of pressure against your entrance and up against your clit, his teeth nipping at your lip, and you find yourself shifting back and onto the floor before you can think better of it.

His hips lift to help you get his jeans and boxers down and off as he toes out of his sneakers, and you groan softly at the sight of his hard dick, bobbing heavily in the open v of his legs.

You moan softly as you curl your fingers around it in an underhanded grip, stroking him root to tip. His head tips back against the couch on a groan as his hands twist into your hair.

“C’mon,” he encourages and you lick your lips, bolstering his dick with a hand to the base before leaning in to kiss the tip.

His hips hitch, and the grip on your hair tightens. Your scalp stings with it and you dart your tongue out to lick away the drop of precome pearling at the head.

You hum at the salty-bitter taste, and finally open your lips to take him in. You let the head slide over your bottom lip, let it rest on your tongue for a moment.

Jax groans above you, and you tease him a bit longer, little kitten-licks at the underside, a swirl of tongue just below the head. He thrusts up with a growl, shallow, sliding himself deeper and you suck, hollow your cheeks.

“That’s it, darlin’, yeah,” he drawls, sex-drunk, as his hips lift impatiently.

You pull back, suck sloppily at the head, until his grip on your hair tightens almost painfully. “C’mon, enough teasing.”

You let him slide himself deeper, right up to the soft palate, your hand stroking what you can’t fit into your mouth. And God, maybe it’s the alcohol, but you love the way he stretches your lips wide, the weight of him on your tongue.

You pull off against the resistance of his hand to suck in a breath, and his hold on you gentles for a second. You tongue at his slit as a distraction, and get rewarded with another pulse of precome.

You lick a stripe up his length before taking him back in, his fingers twisting, pulling on your hair and you bob your head, building up to taking him deeper.

You are dimly aware of the whistles and cat calls from all around you, from the people watching you. You can’t bring yourself to care.

“Jesus Christ, there you go,” he praises and you look up at him, eyes watering, mouth stretched wide. You hum softly and his eyes flutter shut at the sensation, hips canting up to press impossibly deeper.

Someone slaps your ass as they pass and you jerk forward, gagging a little when it sends Jax deeper than before. He groans, a sound ripped from somewhere deep in his chest, eases off for a moment before his hips snap up again. You try to relax, breathe through your nose, as his dick works open your throat with little thrusts until he finally sinks in.

You pull off with a cough when his grip eases, and you stroke him a couple times, dick sloppy-wet with spit and precome.

You look up at him this time as you take him back in, no playing around, a straight slide over your swollen lip, your tongue, right into the soft vice of your throat.

Your eyes sting with tears, with running mascara, and the noises he pulls out of you with every wet slide of his dick down your throat are downright obscene, even to your own ears.

“Fuck, yes, Y/N,” he growls, hands twisting tight again, holding you in place as he strokes into you.

You don’t have a choice but to ride it out when his rhythm finally falters and he’s pushing impossibly deep with little hitching thrusts as his back bows.

Your nails dig into his thighs and your body fights the intrusion, the lack of oxygen, as he comes down your throat, pulls back for a brief moment, only to push deep again.

Your pulse is beating loudly in your ears, and someone slaps your ass again as Jax finally allows you to draw back with a splutter. You heave in a deep breath, wet and shaky, and it makes you cough.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and his spent dick twitches when you curl your tongue around his finger and suck.

“Fuck,” you rasp, back of your throat raw and stinging, and Jax thumbs at your bottom lip, drags the flesh down, pushes the digit onto your tongue.

“Jesus,” he breathes, high on endorphins. You manage a grin, let his thumb go with a wet pop.

“C’mere,” he says as he pulls you up again with a hand on your wrist. Your body protests the sudden motion, the stretch in your thighs, the ache in your knees when he pulls you back into his lap.

Jax doesn’t waste any time, his fingers pushing up your short skirt and under the lace of your panties without hesitation. You moan when a calloused fingertip runs down your slit and back up to circle your clit, spreading your wetness. “Like getting your mouth fucked, huh? You’re fuckin’ soaked, darlin'.”

You whimper in reply, writhing against his hand when he dips one, two fingers into you, the heel of his hand pressing up against your throbbing clit.

It only takes a minute for you to shake apart in his lap, with his fingers curled into you and his teeth in your shoulder. You slump into him with a moan, tremble through an aftershock when he pulls his fingers from you.

Some assholes are applauding and whistling behind you. You are too out of it to care.

You nod against his shoulder and you can feel his sticky fingers on your ass as he rises, lifting you with him with ease.

“Time to take this somewhere more private, what d’you say, darlin’?”

*

“Yeah,” you manage to croak out. You can feel your face flame, with shame, embarrassment.

You are still not entirely sure what had happened after, but judging from the ripped panties, the finger-shaped bruises on her hips and the deep ache between her legs, he had given you one hell of a ride, more than once.

You twist out of his hold, uselessly tug at the shirt again. His eyes are dancing with amusement as he regards you. “Don’t be embarrassed, darlin’, we had a good time.”

“I’ll say,” the other one mutters before pushing past the both of you and you can feel the tips of your ears burning.

“I-,” you start, then stop again. “Jax, right?”

He gives an amused nod.

You feel strangely vulnerable now in this room full of men and scantily clad girls, passed out as they might be, without the liquid courage of bottom shelf tequila.

“Look, Jax, I’m sure last night was- fun and all, but I just need to find my clothes and my bag and get back to my car.”

You watch as he saunters over to the pool table, shoves the guy sprawled out on it just enough to extract your bra from under him. “This what you’re looking for?” He dangles your bra from his finger by the strap and you snatch it from him the second he’s close enough. What you really want is your purse, your phone, but the bra was expensive enough so you hold on to it anyway. “Not sure where the rest is, but you’re welcome to keep the shirt.”

Shit. You are really going to have to leave here in just a t-shirt, you realize, and you nervously lick your lips, try to swallow around the ball of shame forming in your throat.

“I- my purse?” you manage to ask and he ducks into the kitchen, pulls open a cabinet. The relief when he holds out your purse to you a moment later must show on your face because his lips quirk into a smirk. “We’re not savages, darlin’, stop worrying.”

You nod shakily as you clutch your purse to your chest.

“The prospect’s gonna give you a ride back to your car,” he says before stepping right back into your personal space.

His fingers grip your chin, tilt your head up, and you barely manage not to flinch. His lips are soft, almost gentle, when they press to yours and he licks his lips as he pulls away, as if chasing your taste on his skin.

“Stop by the next time you’re in town, we can have some more fun.”

You blink at him for a moment before you drop your eyes, murmur a “yeah, sure,” then make for the door in what you hope is leisurely speed even if every part of you is itching to get out of there as fast as humanly possible.

The sun is blindingly bright when you step outside and you bring up your hand to shield your eyes. There’s a young guy leaning against a tow truck, waving you over, and you climb up into the driver’s cabin, tugging at the shirt to cover as much of your bare legs as you can. You rest your forehead against the cool pane of the passenger side window, avoid to look at your own reflection in the side mirror. Thankfully, the young guy doesn’t talk, only sneaks the occasional glance at you.

You breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls into the parking lot of a store some time later and you see your car. You rummage through your purse for the keys, shoot the young guy a smile and a “thank you” as you climb out of the tow truck.

He gives you a smile and a little wave and you scurry to your car, sink into the driver’s seat, take a moment to just breathe.

God, what had you been thinking, getting on a stranger’s bike and just leaving for somewhere, in a town where nobody knows you? You could have just as easily ended up in a ditch somewhere with no-one any wiser. You shudder out a breath, bite back the tears you can feel well up.

You turn the key in the ignition, throw the car in reverse and peel out of the parking lot with screeching tires.

It’s only when you see the sign ‘Now leaving Charming’ that you finally feel your shoulders relax as you leave the town and the night in your review mirror.

[call-me-ami]

Title: Closer to you

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader (she/her/you)

Rating: E/18+

Word Count: 1,846

Square Filled: Missionary @anyfandomfluffbingo

Warnings/Advertising: fluff, smut, pwp, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), fingering, p in v

A/N: I haven't written reader inserts in almost 15 years and I'm still trying to fit my current writing style to this genre. Feedback much appreciated.

Summary: Sometimes the best thing about date night is how it ends.

You giggle as your back hits the mattress with a bounce. Dean grins at you from the foot of the bed, hands working to undo his pants as he lets his eyes rove over your body.

“Jesus, look at you,” he says appreciatively and you can feel your cheeks heat as you shift up onto your elbows.

“Not so bad yourself,” you quip as you take in the broad expanse of his naked chest, the dark ink on his pec, the smooth planes of his stomach, right down to where his pants are barely hiding his arousal.

You are itching to touch, get your hands on him, as you have been all evening.

Going out for date night had seemed like a good idea in theory, but once you and Dean had been separated by a table and the only point of contact had been your fingers (and the foot you had cheekily rubbed up and up and up his leg under the table), you couldn’t wait for the meal to be over.

Which had led you here, a dinner and a leisurely stroll later, spread out naked on Dean’s bed, with the man towering over you like some kind of god.

You lick your lips when his pants finally drop, the outline of his erection clearly visible through the cotton of his briefs. He teases a finger into the waistband, and you flop back onto the mattress with a groan when he decides to make a show of removing the last piece of clothing.

“C’mon sweetie, eyes on me,” he laughs and you bring your eyes back to where he’s finally peeling off his briefs. You groan in unison when his erection is freed, and he palms himself for a moment, stroking himself slowly as his eyes keep roaming your body.

The mattress dips when he knees onto the bed, his calloused hand drifting up from your ankle to your thigh, softly rubbing circles with his thumb as he splays his hand on your inner thigh, tipping your leg open.

You exhale shakily, bring your hand up to cup your breast, pinch the nipple. Dean groans softly as he mirrors your actions, softly kneads the supple flesh, his eyes never leaving yours.

“So gorgeous,” Dean breathes as he drags his flat palm down your body and you arch into the touch, chasing the feeling of his hand on your skin.

“Kiss me,” you demand breathlessly, as you try to close your thighs for just a little bit of friction on your throbbing clit.

“Yeah?” he asks teasingly, preventing your thighs from closing with a little pressure from his fingers.

“Yeah, please, Dean, just-,” you trail off into a moan as his thumb brushes your clit, once, twice, circling softly, before sliding between your folds, teasing lightly at your entrance.

You can’t stop your hips from bucking into the touch, chasing the sensation, and he chuckles above you as he sucks his thumb between his lips, tasting you, before leaning in and dipping down to press his lips to yours.

He tastes like whiskey and apple pie and you as he tangles his tongue with yours for a brief moment before pulling back with a kiss to the side of your mouth.

Your body thrums with arousal, pulsing through you with every heartbeat, and having Dean so close, almost on top of you, is sending your body into overdrive.

“Gonna let me taste you for real?” he husks into your ear and you squirm beneath him at the mere thought, your pussy clenching on nothing, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

You bury your face in his neck with a sighed, “yes,” the graze of your teeth against his jaw making him shiver.

He kisses you again, deep and hungry, before sliding back down your body, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your sternum, your stomach. You suck in a breath when he spreads you open to his gaze with big hands on both thighs, his breath ghosting wet-hot over your sensitive flesh.

Your head tips back into the pillow at the first touch of tongue against your clit, the pleasure sparking up your spine and spilling from your parted lips in a pitchy moan. You bite your lip hard to keep from making more embarrassing sounds, only giving a small whimper when Dean flattens his tongue to lick a broad stripe from your entrance up to your clit.

“Don’t hold back, lemme hear you,” he says, and you can hear the smug grin in his voice even if you can’t see it. Your hands fly to his head, twist into the short strands of his hair, when his lips close around your clit and he sucks gently.

He doesn’t need your guidance; his flickering tongue and the soft suction driving you higher and higher with every passing moment, your moans getting louder and louder.

You mewl in protest when he pulls off with a wet pop way too soon, leaving you hanging on the edge. You release his head with a frustrated noise, fling your arms up to cover your eyes.

“You wanna come for me, sweetie?” he teases. Your reply dies on your lips when two fingers sink into you without warning, curling in and up and sending your hips flying, his tongue flicking mercilessly at your clit.

You can feel the quiver in your thighs, the low pull of pleasure in your belly, building and building, until it peaks and you clench around his fingers with a cry of his name as your orgasm ripples through you, your back bowing.

You tremble with an aftershock as he gently pulls his fingers from you, tongues at your entrance to taste more of you. He hums against you, the vibration making you shiver, before he sits back on his heels, strokes his soaked fingers over his straining dick as his other hands runs soothingly up your side.

“I want you inside me,” you say breathily as you drop your arms, run your fingers through your hair, allow yourself to take in the sight of him: his chin and fingers and dick all glistening with your slick, his pupils blown, his hips hitching into his own touch on every other stroke. It’s enough to ramp up your arousal again, send a fresh wave of desire straight to you core, and you crook a finger at him, beckoning him closer.

You groan softly when Dean knees closer, stretching out over your body with his hands planted either side of your head, the thick head of his dick nudging through your folds. You pull him in for a kiss, run your fingers into the short buzz of his hair at the base of his skull, as you cant your hips up impatiently.

“Please, baby, I need you,” you whisper as you mouth up his jawline, suck his earlobe between your lips. He drops to his elbows with a groan, his dick catching against your opening as his hips rock forward.

You tip your hips up just the tiniest bit on the next roll of his hips and your breath catches in your throat when he enters you with a low growl, working you soft and open with every little push forward. You can feel your muscles flutter around the intrusion and from the way Dean’s breath stutters against your lips, you think he can feel it, too.

“Fuck,” he chokes out and you hiccup a breathless laugh in agreement as he sinks in the rest of the way.

You arch up, pressing your breasts closer to the muscled body caging you in, your hands falling limply to the mattress. Dean groans into your ear, a soft, low sound that you can feel reverberate all the way down your spine.

His hips flex, pushing himself deeper into your hot-wet heat clenching around his aching dick.

“Damn, you feel amazing, sweetheart,” he rasps, interlacing his fingers with yours on either side of your head. You whimper in response, strain up to bring your lips together. Dean nips at your lip, soothes the sting with his tongue, before pressing his full lips to yours.

You moan into the kiss when he churns his hips, pushes impossibly deeper. This close, all you can see, feel, smell is Dean and it’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

“C’mon,” you urge when he stills, pulls away from your lips to mouth hotly down your neck. Your body tingles with every suck and lick, with the rasp of his stubble against your sensitive skin. You clench around his hard length and his hips stutter, a loud groan spilling from his lips. “Fuck, do that again.”

You do, and Dean gives a thrust, pushing into the tightness of your quivering muscles. He hides his face into your shoulder and you wish so much your hands were free, wish you could twist your fingers into the short strands of his hair, rake your nails down his back. As it is, all you can do is arch up, tilt your hips just right to get some delicious friction against your clit.

“Please, De, I need-” you plead breathlessly as you hook your legs over his, entwining your bodies further. He rolls his hips forward, the angle just right to drag up against your g-spot and you keen at the surge of pleasure, your heart racing in your chest.

“What d’you need, sweetheart?”

You can only groan in response when Dean pulls out half-way and snaps back in hard. His skin is sticky-hot with sweat, rubbing deliciously at your nipples with each slide of his chest against yours.

“More,” you exhale on a shaky groan as your head tips back and Dean latches onto your neck, lips and teeth and scratchy stubble, and it’s going to leave a mark, you just know.

You can feel the first tremors of another orgasm starting, making your thighs quake against Dean’s sides, your toes curl. He ruts into you, ratcheting the pleasure higher with every thrust, until it peaks in an overwhelming rush that makes your body tense, holding him tight inside your body, muscles rippling over his hot length.

“Christ, Y/N,” Dean groans, hips stuttering out of rhythm, and he buries his face into your shoulder as he comes, pulsing inside of you, filling you.

You shudder beneath him with a drawn-out moan, clench around him with an aftershock that sends him surging deeper into you, through the hot-slick mess of your combined releases.

Dean's breathing is ragged in your ear, fanning hotly over your skin, raising goosebumps all over.

He finally lets go of your hands, brushes a matted-down strand of hair out of your face. It takes a moment for your breathing to slow, for your eyes to open.

“Hey,” Dean says softly before he gently presses his lips to yours.

“Hey,” you echo with a smile, carding your fingers through his sweaty hair, even if your muscles feel like jelly.

And being this close, so intertwined, so intimate, is by far your favorite part of date night.

[colereads]

Ohhhh I love it! It's so hot and sweet! Not bad for being out of the reader insert game for 15 years.

[call-me-ami]

Thank you, Cole 🥰