#negan smith fic

[writella]

Pookie, more Negan x reader to celebrate 1k?🤭

for you? well ofc! ♡

cw: negan x fem!reader, smut, light somnophilia, fingering, rubbing, wc- under 1k.

His sleeping beauty rests one floor above the wives’ quarters.

Alone.

Yeah, yeah, call it special treatment, favoritism.

It is.

The time on his watch reads 10:55 am. It’s a Sunday.

He should have come to you earlier. Slipped in your bed while he was still in his nightwear. Pretend you two are a regular couple for just an hour at least, hold you close, have morning sex.

But he’s late and he hates it. This is the one day of the week where he can be late for everyone else, but of course one of his guys just had to have a fight with a couple of workers already throwing off the entire schedule for the day and he had to manage it.

It doesn’t matter now though, because as he opens the door he sees just as he suspects— you’re sleeping in.

His beautiful girl in his room he reserved just for you. So silent and serene and away from everyone else that he can kneel down on the floor near your bed and unabashedly admire you. Take comfort in your softness. Treat you in a way no one expects.

As he takes you in, he sees the lace and flowers of your nightgown peek through from an arm that is placed over your blanket, exposing your shoulder. Admiring the sight, he takes his hand and wisps the backs of his fingers to swipe bits of your ruffled hair out of your face. He tries as gently as he can but already he sees your eyes fluttering. You breathe in, eyes almost lifting to an open until you settle. You breathe out and dig your head into your pillow on one side.

Negan kisses your shoulder and then slides the hand farthest from your face inside your blanket. His fingers slip down the cotton of your gown until he finds your mound, then your lips, and pushes his fingers inward, starting to rub. He draws gentle circles, and instantly you’re rustling. Your lower body jerks, only once, involuntarily. One hand lightly goes to hold onto his wrist as you find it and your head turns to his direction. With hazy sleep in your squinted eyes and a sweet scratchy voice you let out a croaked whisper, “Negan?”

“Yes, baby,” he answers in a deep, dark alto voice; like flowing chocolate; he still had his morning voice.

Negan’s fingers slide down your leg and under your gown, sliding back up to the now exposed skin to him and he slots his fingers between your lips again. He loves how you never wear panties at night. You make it so easy for him.

He feels a slight slick around your hole and works at your clit again to make you wetter. Your pussy lightly pushes up into him and your eyes stay closed. He takes his hand closest to your face and rests it on your breast and you take both of your hands to hold that one. You squeeze his hand just as your squeeze around nothing down below— his fingerings bringing heat to your body everywhere.

“N- mm- uh- Negan,” you moan out. It’s small, a little whiny, and choked out, but your eyes and nose are scrunched up. You’re still sleepy.

He keeps rubbing circles as your keep trying to push yourself up and down, left or right onto his finger tips and then he slides down, your wetness growing just as he wanted it to, and he slides a finger in. He works it in and out— not too slow, nor too fast.

He takes his hand from in between yours and places his forearm over your pillow so he can get closer to you, kissing your lips and swallowing your whines as he continues to pump with the over hand down below.

“Feels good, baby?” He asks, looking over your swollen morning features and your head that slightly shakes from side to side at the feeling on him working on you.

“Oh, yes!” You answer, light and breathy, in a princess voice. “Mmmm,” you sigh, “would feel even better if you did this,” to which you demonstrate with your hands going under your blanket and back onto his wrist. You take his palm and place it on your puffed clit and rub down and inward as he continues to pump you as best as he can with his fingers. “Oh, yes,” you nod, “mhm”loving the feeling of pressure from top to end, “like that Negan.”

He smiles, fast and lust filled as he rests his head on the bed, continuing to watch your expressions of sleepy awe and pleasure as you both work on getting you to your high.

God, you looked so heavenly with your mouth wide open like that, always ready for those pretty little moans to roll out on that slick tongue. He started imagining his cock choked up in there. It made his semi-hard on stir into a full. “Fuck,” he draws out.

He starts kissing the corner of your mouth, and a cheek, and neck, whispering with that dark chocolate rasp in your ear how, “You’re being such a good girl, baby. Getting so wet for me this fast. I think you’re ready, huh?” To which you whine and nod in response, your back already arching as you try to push his palm into you deeper and deeper. “Mmhm. I know you are. Such a pretty little slut for me. I’m about to make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

[vilentia]

Sweet Surrender

Negan Smith x reader

Negan was always a man who knew what he wanted, and he wasn't afraid to take it. As the leader of the Saviors, he had an air of confidence and swagger that drew people to him, whether they liked it or not. And when he met you, he knew that he wanted you.

You were different than the other women he had encountered in the post-apocalyptic world. There was a strength and independence about you that he found irresistible. And though you resisted his advances at first, he was persistent in his pursuit.

He would find excuses to be near you, engaging you in conversation, trying to make you laugh. He would invite you to sit with him at meals, offering you the best of what the Sanctuary had to offer. And as much as you tried to resist, you found yourself drawn to him, unable to deny the attraction that simmered between you.

One night, as the two of you were alone in his room, he reached out and took your hand, pulling you closer to him. His eyes met yours, a smoldering intensity that sent shivers down your spine. And then his lips were on yours, fierce and demanding, taking what he wanted without apology.

You tried to pull away, to resist, but he was too strong, too determined. And slowly, you found yourself giving in to the heat that radiated from him, responding to his touch with equal fervor. He pressed you back onto the bed, his hands roaming over your body, igniting a fire that burned hot and bright.

It was as if he were pouring sugar on you, sweet and irresistible, and you couldn't get enough. And as the night wore on, you found yourself surrendering to him completely, swept away by the passion that consumed you both.

In the days that followed, you found yourself drawn back to him time and time again, unable to resist his magnetic pull. And though you knew that it was dangerous to be with him, that he was a man who demanded loyalty and obedience, you couldn't help but crave him.

For Negan, you were his sweetest addiction, the one thing that he couldn't get enough of. And as he held you in his arms, he knew that he would do anything to keep you by his side, no matter the cost.

[drewmorg4n]

Perhaps a soft and somewhat smutty transmasc insert x negan fic where he’s heavily focused on the readers surgery scars, just tracing them with his fingers and kissing them cause I just know that man has a scar kink

(Also this is just a fully self indulgent req)

Glass Scars

pairing: negan smith x trans male reader

wc: 4,621

tags: smut, fluff but it’s negan so you know, scar kink, oral (reader receiving), only masculine terms used

an: (this is such a basic fic title but my mind blanked out and i couldn’t come up with anything else) i know this literally took forever for me to finish but i think it’s worth it? maybe? idk but i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoy reading :)

dni: cis/fem people…it’s self explanatory

(i tried to add in a really sexy gif here but i’m stupid and it didn’t work so </3)

“Jesus christ, that was a fucking shit show.” Negan exhales heavily. He’s currently hunched over, hands on his knees, completely out of breath.

After running into a small horde of walkers, you and Negan had to basically fight your way through them. There was nowhere to simply stay put and wait it out as they came at you from all directions and quickly boxed you in. Honestly, you were sure you were about to kick the bucket right then and there, but luckily Negan kept an eye on you and stepped in to help you as needed. You truly don’t know what you would do without that man. Die, probably.

“Yeah.” You agree softly, panting. Your pants and tee are basically drenched in blood and some small bits of guts, sticking uncomfortably to your skin. You have to stop yourself from gagging a few times as the smell of it all finally hits you. “We’re going back, right? I really need a shower.” You mention tersely, grimacing at your current state.

Negan sighs. “Fuck, babe. C’mon, you look so hot covered in blood.” He exasperates, slowly striding over to you and enveloping you by your waist, gently pulling you close.

You roll your eyes, though the small smirk attempting to cross your lips eventually betrays you. “Negan, please. This shit smells awful and feels disgusting.” You whine softly, starting to pull out of Negan’s grip even though you really don’t want to.

Negan kisses your cheek before you get too far away from him, his lips tinted red after. “Well, I think we’ve gathered enough supplies.” He mentions, glancing at the few duffel bags that you’d both dropped when the horde approached. “Yeah, let’s go back. This shit does feel fuckin’ disgusting.” He agrees, his form suddenly stiff and uncomfortable.

You nod in response, feeling relieved about Negan’s decision. After tucking away your knife and checking yourself over - making sure you didn’t drop anything - you make your way over to the bags and haul one up, resting heavily on your shoulder. As you move to grab another, Negan moves in the corner of your eye, catching your attention. You glance over and watch him for a moment; he slowly peels off his leather jacket, seemingly in a bit of pain. His white tee underneath is damp with blood, the fabric clinging to his skin. He may be in pain but he also looks extremely attractive like this. You can’t help the way your eyes skim up and down his upper body, taking notice of his hard nipples protruding his tee.

Just as he turns his head to look at you, you also turn, attention back on the bags. You repeat your previous movement with another bag, though luckily this one is a bit lighter. Still, the strain of them on each of your shoulders is definitely gonna hit you later.

As you try to make the weight as bearable as you can, Negan comes over and gathers the rest of the bags; three in total. Negan then leads the way, walking a short distance back to the truck. It was honestly a stupid idea to leave it, but the spot you guys were trying to get to wasn’t accessible by the road as it had been blocked off, which really left no other choice but to walk. You definitely wouldn’t be coming this way again without a few more men.

Just a few minutes later you’re piling the bags into the bed of the truck and soon after making yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. The drive back to the sanctuary shouldn’t take too long, but things aren’t always set in stone out here. You guys could stumble upon another horde or maybe even some people. All you can do is just sit back and wait.

You drift in and out of sleep throughout the whole ride, Negan’s hand a comforting warmth on your thigh. He laughs at you every time your head bobs forward, on the brink of sleep. You only have enough energy to groan softly, exhausted from your previous exertion.

Eventually you’re home, parked in the small parking lot beside the sanctuary. Negan squeezes your thigh a few times, getting your attention. “C’mon.” He says, nodding his head in the direction of the building. “Let’s get cleaned up, hm?” He offers softly, though his voice is deep and husky.

“Mhm.” You hum slowly, still half asleep and feeling very groggy. You manage to get out and step onto the gravel, hearing it crunch beneath your boots. The sound brings a wave of comfort over you, knowing that just an hour ago you were on the verge of death. The slam of Negan’s door rattles you from your thoughts, bringing you back to reality. You take a moment to gather your bearings and close your door, then you slowly make your way to the back of the truck towards Negan.

“I told the guys to get the shit in the back. I’m dying for a shower.” He sighs dramatically, waiting until you’re close enough so he can take your hand in his. He then leads the way, entering through one of the side doors and ascending a few flights of stairs before stopping at the third floor.

He trails down the long hallway, stopping at the door to his room. He lets go of your hand and enters his room, immediately chucking his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. You stand in the doorway for a moment, just watching him. He’s absolutely ridiculous but you love it.

Following him inside, you close the door behind you and lock it as usual. When you turn back around the only piece of clothing left on Negan is his boxers, which happen to also have a few spots of blood on them, probably from the thick liquid seeping through his pants. Lastly, he removes his boxers, sighing in relief.

You’ve seen Negan naked hundreds of times now but each time always feels like the first, sending a shock up your spine and a shiver throughout your entire body. He’s just so alluring and gorgeous, no matter how many times you’ve seen his body; he’s perfect.

You eventually begin to follow Negan’s lead, undressing. You move extremely slow as you’re still very exhausted, but Negan seems to notice this and is quick to step in and help. He unbuckles your belt and unzips your pants, undoing the button and letting your jeans fall down your legs. You hold onto his shoulder as you step out of them and kick them aside. The same movement is done when removing your boxers.

Negan’s hands are on your waist in an instant, skimming them up and down your sides, lightly scratching his nails against your skin. You have to bite back a moan, though it’s not from arousal; Negan’s hands just feel incredibly good and cause you to become even more tired.

“C’mon. I’m gonna fall asleep if we don’t shower soon.” You warn slowly, smiling softly as your eyes begin to close unwillingly.

Negan chuckles deeply, the sound rumbling in his throat. “Alright, alright.” He concedes, his hands coming to a halt. “I just love touching you.” He whispers, lips gracing the shell of your ear. He then plants a few gentle kisses along your neck, ending with a quick nip.

“Yeah, well, you can do that in the shower, y’know.” You point out teasingly, earning another chuckle from Negan.

“You fuckin’ bet I will.” He growls lowly, leaning in for one last nip to your neck.

From there, he finally obeys and leads you to the bathroom, quickly turning on the shower. You both idle for a minute or two as the water begins to warm up, eventually shivering a bit from the cool air touching your skin.

Negan steps in the shower a moment later, pulling you along. The warm water rains down on your head, running down your body and effectively warming you. Before you know it Negan’s massaging shampoo into your hair, the sudden touch startling you a bit. You quickly relax into it, though, tilting your head back and closing your eyes.

A good minute of massaging and Negan’s maneuvering you around the shower, letting the spray of water hit you directly. He gently rinses out the shampoo, placing a kiss to your temple afterwards.

“Thank you.” You say softly, warming even more at Negan’s lips against you. “Let me do you, too.” You offer, moving to reach for the bottle of shampoo and pouring some out onto your hand. After lathering up your hands you reach up and run your fingers through Negan’s hair. He smiles at the feeling, dipping his head down a bit so it’s less of a reach for you.

Once his hair has been thoroughly washed, you help him rinse out the shampoo, wiping away any suds that get too close to his eyes. You give him a quick, chaste kiss after, amused when he furrows his brows and pleads with his eyes for more.

“Later.” You counter, though you’re not even sure if you’ll be awake later. With the way you feel currently, you assume you won’t be, but who knows.

“Why do you always play hard to get?” He chides lowly, swooping in close and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You roll your eyes, offering a soft smile. “Negan, we’re both covered in blood and I’m fucking exhausted. I just wanna shower in peace.” You explain a bit firmly, though the smile covering your lips has yet to drop.

“Well, I can surely be of service.” He assures with a wink, immediately moving to grab your washcloth. After rinsing it out he grabs the bar of soap and lathers up the cloth. He then starts cleaning you up, rubbing the cloth against your skin to get rid of the dry bits of blood. Continuing on, he does the rest of your upper body and then your lower, humming pleasantly once he’s done and sees that you’re clean.

After he rinses out the washcloth and hangs it back up, he again grabs the bar of soap and lathers his hands this time. While you watch him, you immediately know what he’s about to do.

Negan settles himself behind you and slips a hand around your waist, resting gently against your lower stomach. His other hand follows but rests on your groin, soon moving down and slipping your cock between his fingers. The motion makes you gasp, feeling arousal start to build in your gut. When his fingers move down just a bit then back up, you can’t help the moan that slips past your lips.

You honestly thought you were way too tired to get worked up, but clearly you were very wrong about that. You know Negan is still just cleaning you up, but of course his movements are painfully slow - most likely on purpose - which isn’t helping your increasing arousal.

Eventually his movement concludes, removing his hand. You sigh at the lack of touch, somewhat wishing Negan would put his hand back even though you’re still exhausted.

You take a moment to gather yourself before you copy Negan’s actions, offering to wash him off. He lets you do as you please, ridding his body of sticky blood. When your eyes manage to drift down, you’re sort of surprised he’s not hard. With the way he was touching you, you fully expected him to be.

As you finish up, Negan’s hands rest on your chest, trailing down and stopping right above your diaphragm. “Couldn’t see your scars when you were covered in blood.” He comments softly, eyeing your chest. His thumbs glide along them, from edge to edge.

You’re quiet for a long moment, unsure of what to even say to such a comment. His thumbs continue to trace your scars, side to side. “That feels good.” You say, lifting your head to look up at him. He looks totally entranced, eyes following the movement of one of his thumbs.

“Do you know how much I truly adore your scars?” He asks gently, eyes unmoving from your chest.

“Well, I could guess.” You chuckle softly. A smirk creeps onto Negan’s face in return, eyes finally looking up to meet your own. He dips his head down and places kiss after kiss along your neck, trailing them down to your collarbone; each kiss elicits a warm flush throughout your entire body.

Eventually, you completely lose track of time, though; the water runs colder and colder and soon you’re almost shivering.

“Negan, c’mon. We used all the hot water.” You note, slowly pulling yourself out of his grasp. He practically whines at the movement, hands moving quickly to pull you back into him, though you refuse and step back, turning off the water. “I’m freezing.” You grunt softly, looking up at him with annoyance.

“You know I’m a fuckin’ human furnace, babe.” He winks, his usual sly smirk covering his lips. He moves to push aside the shower curtain, stepping out after. He grabs one of the towels set on the counter and unfolds it, holding it up in front of him. “C’mere, let me warm you up.” He offers, softer than before.

You reluctantly step out, quickly wrapped up in the towel with firm, warm arms surrounding you. Negan first dries off your hair, ruffling it with the towel until it’s just damp, then moves onto your body. He’s quick but gentle, working up then down, making sure you’re all dry. Now, without cold droplets of water covering your skin, you’re much warmer but you still feel a deep need for actual heat.

Right as you’re about to head out of the bathroom, aiming to find something warm to wear, Negan stops you with a gentle grip on your forearm.

“Wait. Don’t get dressed.” He requests quickly, loosening his grip on your arm.

You furrow your brows. “Why?” You question curiously, confused.

Negan doesn’t respond for a moment which just manages to confuse you even more, but the light pink blush tinting his cheeks distracts you until he does. “I just like seeing you; your scars, the rest of your body. I love it.” He admits softly, his voice trailing off into a whisper. His cheeks are now red rather than pink, which tells you he was probably nervous to confess such a thing.

Negan’s statement has you at a loss for words, though. Of course he’s not necessarily the softest person, he’s always sarcastic and vulgar, causing him to usually say all the wrong things, but throughout the time you’ve been together, his soft side peeks out more and more each day.

“Oh.” You sigh, trying to muster up the right words to say. “Thank you. I-I-“ You stutter, quickly stopping yourself from continuing. You can’t believe the second you’re vulnerable you immediately start stuttering. Although it’s somewhat expected, it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.

Negan smiles, holding back a soft chuckle. “It’s alright, baby.” He assures, noticing the nervous expression etched onto your face and wanting to bring you some comfort. “I’m gonna dry off. Just go wait for me.” He nods, quickly kissing your cheek.

You give him a soft smile and then you’re turning around, heading out of the bathroom once again. You end up following through with Negan’s request, ditching your clothes completely. You’re not even that cold anymore, the embarrassment and slightest bit of adrenaline warming you. Once you slide onto the bed, making yourself comfortable on top of the silk sheets, you finally relax. After today, you definitely need a break from beyond the walls. Knowing Negan, he’ll probably be hesitant to let you out again unless he’s by your side, but you’ll worry about that when it happens. For now, you let your limbs go limp and sink into the soft mattress as you wait for Negan.

A few short minutes later the bathroom door squeaks open, revealing a naked Negan. He wastes no time getting into bed; he pushes apart your legs and settles himself between them, his chest against your stomach. He really is a human furnace.

Soon enough you feel his lips against you, kissing up and down your chest, your nipples, your scars. He hums contentedly as he kisses along each scar, from one edge to the other; he doesn’t miss a single spot.

You work your hands into his hair, combing it back as he continues his relentless kissing. After a few minutes, you realize you could definitely fall asleep like this; Negan’s lips grazing your chest. You’re already exhausted, so why not? You let yourself slowly drift off, eyes feeling heavier and heavier as each second passes.

“You’re so perfect, baby. So handsome.” Negan mumbles deeply, his throat and lips vibrating against you.

His soft words cause your eyes to pop open, feeling overwhelmed with affection and love. You somehow still haven’t gotten used to Negan’s praises; each time he says something even remotely good about you, your stomach flips and twists with the strongest feeling of appreciation. You’ve never felt so loved in your entire life.

“Kiss me.” You plead softly, almost whispering. He makes a noise similar to a hum but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. You pull on his hair gently but he resists, ignoring it and continuing his kisses along your chest. “Negan, please.” You groan, tugging on his hair again, though a bit harder this time.

He releases a throaty moan at the harsh pull of his hair, finally relenting and moving up your body, coming face to face with you. His usual sly grin is smeared across his lips, cockiness clearly flowing through him as he idles in front of your face, not making any attempts at moving closer and kissing you.

Feeling annoyed, you hurriedly grab the nape of his neck and pull him close, crashing your lips together. He chuckles at your gesture and struggles to kiss you back for a moment, but rather quickly he settles down and starts moving his lips against your own.

The movement of your lips started off fast but is beginning to slow and match Negan’s pace, which you really don’t mind. As long as you’re kissing him you have nothing to complain about.

Negan’s tongue dips into your mouth slowly, licking past your lips and grazing your teeth with his tongue. The moan that slips out of you is purely accidental but Negan certainly finds the noise pleasurable as his lips curl up into a small smirk.

His hands then skim up your body, stopping below your pecs. Once again he begins to smooth over your scars, each of his thumbs moving back and forth. You have no clue why he seems to be so obsessed with them, but it’s honestly a very relieving feeling knowing that your scars don’t bother him.

Suddenly Negan bites your lip, not hard but the gesture somewhat surprises you. As you relax into it, it feels good, almost intoxicating. Again you moan, wishing he would bite just a little bit harder. As if Negan is capable of reading your mind, he bites down harder a short moment later, eliciting yet another moan from you.

Fuck, his teeth feel so good latched onto your bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. The sensation of it is almost overwhelming. An immeasurable amount of pressure and heat builds within your groin, quickly becoming unbearable. You grind your hips up, coming into contact with Negan’s cock, his warmth pressed against you lightly.

“Please.” You ground out after pulling out of the kiss, panting. Honestly, you’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this point, you just want to be pleasured, touched. Anything.

Negan hums lowly, smirking as usual. “What do you want? Hm?” He inquires deep but soft. He begins placing kisses to your neck and slowly trails them down to your nipples, kissing each one wetly as his thumbs continue to caress your scars. “What does my pretty boy want?” He murmurs into your skin, his lips vibrating against you softly.

Unwillingly, your hips buck, connecting with Negan’s lower chest. He chuckles against you, lips around one of your nipples. You open your mouth to speak but find that you simply can’t. Instead of words coming out of your mouth, a loud moan slips past your lips. Without even thinking you grab Negan's hair, both hands twined into bundles of strands. You pull up, even though that’s not the direction you want him to go in, you just desperately need to tug on something.

Negan groans softly at the pull of his hair, humming lowly after. Before he kisses down the rest of your torso, his tongue darts out and ever so slowly licks across each of your scars, making you shiver.

“Jesus.” You gasp softly, a bit shocked. Negan must really have a thing for scars. Either way, his tongue feels good on you, tracing side to side.

Once he seems to have his fill of your scars, he kisses down your stomach all the way to your groin. You whine as you feel his lips getting closer and closer to such a sensitive area, resisting the urge to roll your hips. He places feather light kisses to the inside of your thigh, trailing them up and down. He’s kissing everywhere you don’t want him to; not that it doesn’t feel good but you’re so pent up with arousal that it’s starting to hurt.

Tightening your grip on his hair, you quickly tug, his head now hovering right above your cock. His eyes flick up to yours, dark and teasing, his usual sly smirk covering his lips.

“Are you gonna tell me what you want now?” Negan asks lowly, feigning curiosity. “Cause I’ve got no fuckin’ clue.” He chuckles soft and deep, resuming his kisses; he’s so full of shit it’s painful.

Negan’s lips are now incredibly close to your dick and you want nothing more than for him to finally put his mouth to work on you. When his kissing doesn’t stop, you finally obey and voice your needs.

“Suck me off.” You whine softly, voice barely reaching a whisper. Your hips roll involuntarily, crotch brushing against Negan’s scruffy chin. Even that slightest bit of friction has you moaning again, just hoping Negan will put a stop to his teasing and finally give you what you want.

Negan laughs darkly, eyes half lidded as he looks up at you. His tongue darts out and skims across his lips, biting it softly as he slowly puts it back in his mouth. “I can’t decide if I should make you beg for it or not.” He teases, smirk never faltering. His fingers rub along your hip, digging in just slightly.

You tighten your hand in Negan’s hair, pulling on it. “Please.” You whimper softly, desperation filling your voice.

Your begging causes Negan’s smirk to grow even wider, his teeth gleaming at you. He’s clearly enjoying this but you’re not sure how much more you can take. You’re so pent up with sexual desire it’s unfathomable.

Negan then begins to plant kiss after kiss to your groin, leading down to your sensitive cock. The second his lips come into contact with your dick you can’t help but buck your hips. Negan’s fingers are quick to dig into your hips and hold you down, though his kissing never stops.

The slight sting coming from Negan’s nails digging into you isn’t unpleasant, it’s actually extremely endearing and only turns you on even more. You’re quickly pulled from the sensation by Negan’s tongue gliding along your cock. You almost scream at how good it feels, though it’s more of a choked moan which is honestly a little embarrassing.

Your embarrassment is very quickly disregarded once Negan’s lips close around you, gently sucking what he can into his mouth. Your grip on Negan’s hair tightens immensely, fearing you may rip out chunks of it, though you know he really wouldn’t mind which would definitely be comical in another situation.

Negan continues his gentle sucking, slightly bobbing his head. You’re still rolling your hips though there’s not a lot of movement since Negan is keeping you in a steady hold.

After about a minute or so, Negan begins to suck harder along with digging his nails deeper into your hip. Both sensations mixed together have you going crazy, heading towards the edge. Whimpers begin to flood your mouth, dripping out like liquid. You simply can’t stop yourself, nor do you want to. Your own moans almost accentuate your pleasure, which is odd but you’ll gladly take it.

Negan then hums while he continues his incessant sucking - almost as if he’s also moaning - sending ripples of vibration through your groin, intensifying your pleasure even more.

“Jesus christ, Negan.” You pant, arching your back off the bed completely. You can feel the way your legs are trembling, indicating your climax is approaching. Practically your entire body is covered in a layer of sweat, droplets running down your face and chest. You’re about to burst at any moment.

You can’t even control the movement of your hips, it simply has a mind of its own, bucking hard and fast into Negan’s mouth, though he’s still holding you down as best as he can. Eventually, though, he relents and let’s go, giving you free range. Holding onto the back of his head, you fuck into his mouth repeatedly.

He’s happy to let you use him until you finally come, hips stuttering and shaking as you continue to roll them. It’s such an intense, overstimulating feeling, but at the same time it feels like pure heaven.

Your whimpering only gets louder and louder as you ride out your orgasm, body trembling with pleasure. “Fuck.” You whine, voice hoarse and wavering.

Negan chuckles, which sends another vibration through you. It’s too much, though. You’re officially overstimulated. You yank Negan’s head off of you by his hair, freeing yourself from his mouth.

“Shit.” You pant, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm roll through you. Negan looks up at you with half lidded eyes, smiling softly. There’s a single string of saliva leading from his lips to your dick, which elicits a small chuckle from your throat. Using your thumb, you gently wipe it away.

“Thanks.” Negan chuckles, resting his head on your lower stomach.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, smiling. “C’mere, let me return the favor.” You decide, smoothing your hands along his upper back.

Negan yawns. “I already came.” He states, looking back up at you. “You’re just so fuckin’ sexy when your cock is in my mouth, making all those pretty noises. Only had to grind against the bed for like, two fuckin’ seconds before I came.” He explains easily, feeling his cock twitch as he thinks about the noises you were making.

“Oh.” You mumble softly, extremely flustered from Negan’s admission. “So, you ruined the sheets?” You question, yanking his chain.

Negan huffs a laugh. “Probably.” He agrees, chuckling. He slowly crawls up your body and places a gentle kiss to your lips before laying down beside you. He’s quick to pull you into his side, arms wrapped around you.

You sigh and relax into his hold, resting your head atop his chest; the hair there manages to tickle your nose every now and then, but you really don’t mind - you wouldn’t change it.

As you listen to the sound of Negan’s heartbeat, you quickly find yourself drifting off into sleep, body and mind completely exhausted. You refuse to fight it and eventually you slip into a deep sleep, cradled by the only man you’ve ever wanted.

[captainkelseyx]

I don’t even think I have the audience to be writing this post, but...

Maybe I do? I don't know... If the messages about that Negan fic—the one I left on a cliffhanger last year—is anything to go by. (You know the one. The boot related one...) For a while, I thought that would be the end of it. I wasn’t sure I could come up with something worthy of the existing piece, let alone actually write it.

But here’s the thing: I finally got to it. Inspiration hit out of nowhere, and for the first time in months, I’m excited to dive back into this story. I have a plan, well sort of, and it feels like the words might actually cooperate with me for once.

It’s still a little weird to think this particular fic is what people know me for, especially considering... the content. (Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting that part of my brain to resonate so loudly.) But the love you’ve all shown it—and me—has made it impossible not to give this the proper continuation it deserves.

So, part two is officially in progress. I don’t have a release estimate yet cause I just started, but it’s happening, and it's coming together. Thank you for being patient, for sticking around, and for making me feel like this is something worth coming back to. And most importantly, for warming my heart by loving it enough to engage with it. 🖤

[driedpeanuts69]

HEY GUYS!!!

um i don’t use tumblr that much but i am currently 44 chapters deep into a negan fic called: Eleanor,

and i’m wondering if anyone would read it! it’s on wattpad but i don’t mind moving it on here or any other platform <3

account is called: lluc1ferr (i haven’t published it yet but i will soon okay i published it)

if anyone’s interested, do the poll by here :D

[lanaispunk]

negan smith fics recs?? 👀

[janiehellion]

The Fine Line

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: He's everything you should fear, yet somehow everything you crave. One night. One decision. And no turning back.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: NEGAN SMITH X VIRGIN!FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: AGE GAP / LOSS OF VIRGINITY / SMUT / LANGUAGE / ANGST / CUNNILINGUS / UNPROTECTED P-IN-V SEX / POSSIBLE GRAMMATICAL ERROS

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.975

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: @severesandwichparadise

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: It's been way too long since I’ve written anything about Negan—who makes a heart race and the thoughts dirty. This one’s been a long time coming, and I really hope you like it.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You hadn’t seen him before, not like this. The way he walked into Alexandria, like he owned the place with that grin that made you gulp in a way you hated to admit. Negan. The man who’d haunted your nightmares, the man who had killed Glenn, Abraham—friends who mattered. You had heard of it, of course. Everyone had—the infamous Negan—the man who controlled the Saviors.

And he didn’t come alone. Of course, he didn’t. His Saviors stood right behind him, all armed and ready to kill whenever he told them to.

Rick was already waiting near the gate of Alexandria, looking more than just nervous while trying to act like he wasn’t following Negan’s orders. But you could see it in his eyes—the way his body was tense like he was trying to remember how to breathe around this man who had broken him several times by now.

And that was it. The first time you laid eyes on Negan.

He went over to Rick immediately while the rest of the group watched silently, and you couldn’t help but watch too, unable to look away.

"Negan," Rick greeted, in a way like he was trying to hold on to some dignity. "What do you want this time?"

"Oh, Rick, Rick, Rick," Negan said, clicking his tongue. "Always so goddamn polite." He let out a laugh, stepping toward him. "I’m here for my shit, as usual. You know how it goes. Supplies, gas, and food. Everything you can manage. And you sure as shit can manage that, right?"

Negan looked around then, his eyes looking over the rest of the group. He seemed amused as he watched the faces, and when he caught your eye, you felt it. That feeling. That weird moment where it felt like the entire community was watching. It was short, but it was enough to make your heart race.

And then he was back to Rick, giving him a pat on the shoulder that made him visibly flinch.

"You’ve done well, Rick," Negan said as if Rick were some dog that had finally learned to roll over. "Now, if you’ve got any more of my stuff, we can end this real quick, and I’ll be on my way. You sure as shit don’t mind a little bonus, do you?"

You hated the way Rick flinched and how he didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

Then Negan’s eyes were back on you, and this time he didn’t look away, while that grin of his turned into something a little less mocking and a little more… calculating. There was something about the way he looked at you—like he was trying to figure you out, or maybe just taking his time with the show.

He straightened up fast, pushing Rick aside as he moved closer to you. "What’s your name, sweetheart?"

"None of your damn business," you shot back, unable to stop the hate in your voice.

Negan raised an eyebrow, amused. "So aggressive… I like that. But you’re still not going to tell me, young lady?"

You didn’t answer.

With a final smirk, Negan turned his attention back to Rick, shaking his head as he moved on to collect his supplies.

"Now, Rick, I’m going to need some more supplies, or we’re going to have a problem. And you don’t want that."

You stood there, watching. And it wasn’t just Negan’s words that stuck with you—it was the way he had looked at you. That quick second where you felt something. Something dangerous.

Negan Smith sure as hell was trouble—the kind you didn’t need, but the kind of trouble you wanted to know more about.

Over the next few weeks, you couldn’t avoid him. No matter how hard you tried to stick to your routine or slip away from Alexandria, Negan always seemed to cross your path.

It started small—little things, like looking into his eyes again. It wasn’t just the way he looked back at you; it was the way he began to size you up—like he knew you inside out. He wasn’t just playing with you—at least not in the way you thought. He seemed interested.

You’d be working with the others, repairing gear, or doing your usual chores, and he’d just appear, like some bad dream, some nightmare that wouldn’t leave.

"Well, well, look who it is," he’d said, standing a little too close. "What’s it like, huh? Living in this boring-ass little town?"

"Don’t you have something else to do, Negan?" You didn’t even try to hide the annoyance and the irritation in your voice. But you hated how easily he made your heart race, how every word out of his mouth felt like a game, one that you weren’t sure you wanted to play.

"Oh, I do have something to do," he said, smirking at you. "But I can always make time for you." He leaned in, just enough to make you feel trapped.

You stiffened, swallowing back the urge to snap at him and tell him to go fuck himself. But before you could say anything, one of the Saviors—Simon, you thought—approached.

"Negan," Simon called out. "We’ve got the supplies loaded. We're ready to go!"

Negan looked over his shoulder, nodding slowly. "Alright." Then, with a wink, he'd turned back to you and said, "I’ll catch you later, sweetheart."

The next few times he showed up were no different. You’d be working or standing around with some of the others, and you’d feel his eyes on you, always there—always on you. Every time you caught him, it was as if he was trying to break you open, piece by piece.

And he wasn’t afraid to cross the line. Not once.

"Hey, doll," Negan called out one afternoon when you were walking toward his truck, your arms full of supplies. "You know, Rick’s got himself a real tough girl on his hands. Bet he doesn’t know how to handle someone like you. Or does he handle you quite well?"

You could feel the heat in your face, your cheeks turning red just a little. You knew what he was doing—trying to get under your skin, trying to make you react. But the more he did it, the more you found yourself struggling to hide the fact that you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Even when you told yourself to stay cool and not let him get to you, it was somehow impossible.

"Keep it up, Negan," you shot back. "I’m not impressed. Try harder."

Negan’s grin only widened. "Oh, but I sure as hell think you are. Why, do you like it hard?"

But before you could answer him, a voice cut you off.

"Hey!" Rick shouted from a few feet away. "Leave her alone!"

Negan looked at him, laughing out loud. "Oh, Rick, Rick, Rick," he said, shaking his head, still eyeing you. "Don’t worry, your little girl here can take it. And she likes it hard. I can tell."

Rick stepped forward, but Simon and the other Saviors moved in quickly, creating a barrier between the both of them. It was a warning to everyone: stay in your place.

"Fuck off, Negan," you whispered, trying to push past him, but he didn't let you.

He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. "Oh, I will. But first, tell me something, doll," he said, leaning in close. "How about you stop pretending you don’t like the attention?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because the truth—that truth—was something you didn’t want to admit.

Not yet.

You didn’t have time to process it. Rick was already pulling you aside, his face looking angry.

"Listen," he growled, gripping your arm a little too tightly, which made you wince. "You need to keep your fucking distance from him. I’ve warned you about Negan, about the Saviors. Told you what they did, what he did."

"I can handle myself just fine," you snapped back, ripping your arm free from his grip.

Rick’s eyes narrowed. "You’re not seeing things clearly. He’s a monster. Don’t let him get in your head, alright?"

You scoffed, shaking your head. "I’m not some helpless little girl, Rick. I might still be young in your eyes, but you don’t need to babysit me. I'm not a damn child! Not anymore!"

"You think I’m babysitting you?" Rick hissed. "I’m trying to keep you safe, trying to keep all of us safe. You can’t fuck around with him, and you sure as hell can’t challenge him like that in front of the rest of the Saviors. Do you know what you’re doing? It’s dangerous."

Dangerous? The thought was gnawing at you. You hadn’t challenged Negan—at least, you didn’t think you had.

The days passed again after Negan’s last visit, and you found yourself constantly wondering when he’d show up again, what he’d say, and what he’d do. You told yourself you hated him—what he represented, the way he treated Rick and the others in your group—but the truth was you couldn’t deny that he made you feel something.

Then it happened again. Negan rolled into Alexandria, and you were standing off to the side, as usual, trying to stay out of his way, but your eyes couldn’t help but follow him.

Then, everything went to shit.

Carl soon was on his knees, Lucille raised high above his head. The sudden sound of the bat against the ground sent a shiver down your spine. Rick was scared, just like the others—defeated, sobbing, begging.

"Do you see what happens when you don’t follow the damn rules, Rick?" Negan's voice was cold. "Your little boy here gets a taste of what happens when his Daddy doesn’t play nice and doesn't give me what is mine."

You clenched your fists, your body trembling. Rick was a wreck, barely holding it together as he watched his son kneel in front of Negan like a lamb ready for slaughter.

"Please," Rick whispered as he tried to reason, "just… just let him go. I’ll do anything. Just don’t kill him! I swear, there must've been a misunderstanding while loading up the supplies the last time! We gave you everything we could! I promise!"

"Excuses… excuses. Bullshit. I warned you to not fuck with me. Do not make me tell you twice, Rick. You know I’m going to do it if you don’t get me what I want. Now, what’s it going to be? I could end this little bastard right here, right now."

Rick’s face was pale, his eyes all red and swollen, and Negan smiled, loving every second of it. "You’ll do anything, huh? Well, I’ve got an idea. Now, you see, I can’t kill this little piece of shit—not yet. That’d be too easy. But I could take something else from you. I’ll let him go… but I need her."

Everything inside you froze as he pointed Lucille straight at you.

But you didn’t hesitate, not because you wanted to go with him, but because you knew—if you didn’t—Carl was dead.

"Fine. Take me." It somehow was the hardest thing you’d ever said. You hated that you had to do it, but for Carl’s life, for Rick’s sake, and everyone else, there was no other choice.

Rick's words died in his throat as he tried to keep it together. "No, no, no, no, you don’t have to—"

"I do," you interrupted, stepping forward. You wouldn’t let the Saviors take Carl’s life. "I’ll go with him."

Negan’s grin widened as he nodded, and without another word, he pulled you toward him and he began leading you to the truck. You could hear Rick’s desperate voice calling after you, but it didn’t matter anymore. This was happening.

The ride to the Sanctuary felt endless. Your mind was spinning with a dozen thoughts, none of them making sense. Once you got inside the Sanctuary, the Saviors separated you from the rest of Negan’s people, and you were brought to a small, actually cozy room.

You just stood there, trying to gather your thoughts. You couldn’t look at him—Negan—who had just played with a life like a prize.

Meanwhile, he was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. "This is one hell of a nice room, huh? I thought you’d appreciate it. After all, you’re a guest now."

"I’m not your fucking guest," you snapped, finally looking at him, unable to keep the anger at bay. "You think this is some kind of joke? You’re the reason I’m here! You’re the one that made me choose between Carl’s life and my fucking dignity!"

Negan didn’t flinch. He just stared at you. "No, no. You’re here because you made the right choice. You chose life. You chose Carl’s life. And that’s what I like about you."

You stepped forward, fists clenched, heart racing in your chest. "You’re a monster. And you—you just walk around like you own every single person that crosses your way like you have the right to decide who lives and who dies!"

Negan pushed himself off the doorframe. "You think I like doing that?" His voice was colder now, but still, he seemed strangely calm. "You think I enjoy seeing my people get hurt? To watch my people die? No. I do what I gotta do. And what I did? Hell, ask Ricky-boy about the real reason why I… attacked. This world doesn’t give a damn about feelings, doll. It’s survival."

"It’s not survival to make people suffer, Negan. It’s not."

There was a pause, a long one, where Negan looked at you again, his jaw tightening as though he were processing something.

And then, before you could say another word, his lips were on yours, pressing against you and leaving you breathless. You froze, shocked, but his kiss wasn’t hard or punishing like everything else about him—it was tender, almost gentle, even though you could feel the force of it.

When he pulled back, he let out a soft sigh and turned, walking toward the door again. "You’re still not ready for the real world as it is now, even though you've survived it since the beginning," he said, more to himself than you. "But I think you will be."

Soon enough, it again had been a few days since you were brought to the Sanctuary, and each day felt like an eternity. The walls seemed to close in, and inside of them were shadows of people who whispered their secrets when they were alone.

You had the room to yourself, which you hated and appreciated at the same time. At least you weren’t forced to be together with the rest of the Saviors—most of whom still looked at you like you were some sort of prize to be claimed.

Negan had kept his distance after that kiss, which left you feeling like you were constantly on the edge of something threatening. You felt how your body betrayed you, how every time you heard his voice or saw his grin, something inside you changed. It was fucked up, and you knew it.

You were pacing in your room one late evening, trying to get your mind off the curiosity and disgust you felt when you heard a quick knock at your door. Quiet, but loud enough for you to notice. You opened it cautiously, only to see Dwight standing there.

"Hey," he said quietly, almost a little too nervous. "I… uh, just wanted to thank you."

You blinked at him, confused. "Thank me for what? What are you talking about?"

"For doing what you did. For agreeing to stay here. For… for keeping Negan off our backs."

You still didn’t know what he was talking about. "What the hell are you thanking me for, Dwight?" You asked, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

He let out a slow breath, his eyes looking down to the floor. "For the women," he whispered. "Negan’s been leaving them alone ever since you… Well, ever since you caught his interest, I'd say."

You’d been hearing rumors of the women, those who lived in the Sanctuary with Negan as his wives, but you hadn’t understood how deep it went. "What do you mean… leaving them alone?"

Dwight’s eyes met yours again. "The women… his wives," he said. "He hasn’t touched any of them since he saw you."

Your mind struggled to process it. "You’re telling me there’s a bunch of women just waiting around for him?"

"It’s not like that. Not anymore. He used to call on them whenever he wanted to—" He continued, but trailed off. "When he saw you, he stopped. He hasn’t touched any of them since, and I… we just wanted to thank you for that."

You were quiet for a long moment, his words sinking in. Your mind wandered to those women. It wasn’t disgust you felt—it was a strange kind of curiosity, the kind of curiosity you couldn’t ignore. He hadn’t touched them, but why? What did that mean for you? What was it about you that made him stop?

But you didn’t say any of that to Dwight. You just stood there and didn’t ask him about the women or what they’d gone through.

Instead, you looked at him and said quietly, "You don’t need to thank me."

Dwight stared at you, and then he finally nodded. "Well, I do. And I’m not blind, and I know that, as fucked up as this place is, it’s better for them. Better for her… Even if you don’t want to hear it."

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the Sanctuary. You shut the door slowly, your mind racing. You couldn’t get the thought of the women out of your head. And you sure as hell couldn’t stop wondering what would happen to you now that you were here.

In this place, with him.

You didn’t know. But the question—oh, it burned itself into your mind.

It was confusing. On one hand, you knew Negan was a monster. And yet, here you were. You were drawn to him, to the dangerous pull he had over you.

You tried to push it all away; you tried to tell yourself you were just looking for a way to survive. You weren’t one of those women. You wouldn’t be. He wasn’t going to control you like that.

But still, there was that pull. The way his eyes watched you when he thought no one else was looking, the way his voice changed when he spoke near you.

You were now sitting on your bed, head spinning, when you heard the familiar footsteps outside your door. You didn’t have to look to know it was him. That presence—his presence—it was unmistakable.

He knocked once, hard and loud, before pushing the door open, his grin already in place.

"Well, well," he said. "I see you’ve been keeping yourself busy by talking to Dwight."

You didn’t speak right away; your eyes were staring at him, fighting the need to look down. "I’m not interested in small talk, Negan, and not in an interrogation either," you shot back.

"Of course you’re not." He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyeing you like he was taking inventory. "You know, you can talk to me in a normal way, right? My attention's all on you right now, doll, but your attention isn't on me."

You scoffed, trying to hide the blush on your face. "Normal? Right. Why don't you go and beg for attention elsewhere?"

"Because I don’t beg."

Negan didn’t seem to care about any response. Slowly, he moved into the room, stepping closer, making you instinctively slide back on your bed, though there was no escape, so you stood up, standing in front of him.

"You know," he said quietly, now looking down at you. "I’ve been thinking about you. A lot."

You swallowed hard, your throat dry, unable to find the words to answer. He was so close now… You could smell him—sweat, leather—and something else you couldn’t quite place.

"I’m not gonna lie to you," he continued. "I don’t wanna fuck this up."

"And I don’t want you to want me," you said before you could stop yourself.

He laughed in response as if he enjoyed seeing you stumble over your own words. "Then why the fuck are you standing so goddamn fucking close to me, huh?"

You didn’t have an answer for that.

You wanted him, but you were scared. Scared of the person he was. Scared of being another name on his list. But you couldn’t deny it. Your body, your mind—they craved him. It was like a hunger you couldn’t ignore.

"Maybe that’s why I’m here," you whispered, looking up at him. "Maybe I’m only curious."

"Curious, huh?" His fingers moved slowly up your arm. "Curious about what, exactly?"

You took a shaky breath, fighting the urge to close the space between the two of you. "About what it’d be like."

His smile disappeared, and for a moment, it seemed like he was holding his breath. Then, without a second thought, he stepped back. "I think that’s a conversation for another time."

You didn’t even think; the words just came out. "What is this even to you?" You growled, watching his smirk come back as he leaned against the wall with that irritating look of his. "So what if I haven't… I mean, since the world ended, I haven’t been with anyone. I mean, before it all went down neither, but… Just… Not once, okay. But, I mean—"

That caught his attention, though he tried to hide it. He raised an eyebrow, and for once, he looked like he might take you seriously.

"Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me," he started, "that in all this time, you haven’t felt the need to… fuck?"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you shot back, "Why do you even care, Negan? You've got your… supply of it at all times, don't you?" The words came out more bitter than you’d meant, but you were fed up.

Negan blinked several times, looking thrown off. But it only lasted a second, though this time his usual grin looked more like a mask. "Well, that’s the damn thing, doll. Haven’t been with any of them, not in a while. Guess I had my eye on something else."

"While I don’t know what I want," you suddenly whispered. "I don’t even know if I should want this—with you. I feel horrible. Fucking horrible."

One of his hands came up, fingers brushing along your jaw and down your neck. "Shit, I get it," he said. "But this isn’t some game, alright? You want this? I’m going to give it to you. But if you’re not all in, you better tell me right fucking now."

"Yes, I… I'm sure."

He watched you carefully. "You sure, sweetheart? Not just saying it 'cause you think it’s what I wanna hear?"

"No, I’m sure."

"Alright," he mumbled. "Then we do this slowly. No rushing, no stupid bullshit."

You finally leaned forward, your lips pressing against his in a kiss that was soft at first, hesitant. But then his arms wrapped around you, and the kiss turned rougher as he pulled you closer, hands now moving down your back, pulling you against him while kicking the door of your room shut.

"Hell," he breathed against your lips, "didn’t realize you’d be this damn sweet."

His fingers moved to the hem of your shirt as he broke the kiss. "Last chance to change your mind, darling," he whispered, though, with a bit of restraint. But you shook your head, pulling him closer again, your teeth biting his neck, feeling the shiver that went through him.

Negan let out a growl, and his hands moved quickly under your shirt. "Been wanting to touch you like this for some time now."

You could see him smile—that provocative, arrogant grin that only made you want him more. His hands soon moved to your pants and undid them teasingly, drawing it out until you were almost trembling.

He took his time, his knuckles pressing against your hips as he slid the waistband of your pants down, along with your panties. You swallowed hard, but it wasn’t from fear. It was pure lust—the way he made you feel like the most important thing in the world just by looking at you.

"Relax," he whispered, "I’m not in any damn hurry."

You closed your eyes, letting yourself fall into the moment, letting yourself get lost in the touch of his hands, his lips, and the way he held you like you were something precious, something worth cherishing. You’d expected roughness, maybe even cruelty, but this—this was different.

"You… you’re being so… gentle."

Negan froze. "Of course I am. Why? This isn’t just about me, you know. I want this to feel good for us—for you. Just trust me," he mumbled as he pulled your shirt over your head and undid your bra. "Damn, look at you…"

Heat rushed to your face, and you ducked your head, only for him to gently lift your chin. "Don’t hide from me," he said softly. "Let me see you, all of you."

Negan's hands moved to your tits, his fingers brushing over your nipples until they hardened under his touch, before he leaned down, his mouth following where his hands had been. "Now, just tell me if anything is too much, alright?"

You nodded breathlessly, and he rewarded you with his lips sucking on your nipple, his hand quickly finding its way between your thighs, fingers moving over your clit, rubbing softly until your hips bucked, wanting more.

Somehow, you managed to push one of your hands down between you both, squeezing his cock through his pants. He let out a groan, but you felt clumsy, even unsure, and fumbling a bit as you tried to stroke him the way you thought he’d like.

He laughed a little, grabbing your hand with his own. "Slow down, sweetheart," he said, grinning as he helped you to open up his pants and let them fall with his boxers. "Take your damn time."

But even though you felt uncertain, Negan's reaction told you that you were doing something right, his breathing stopping from time to time and his hands grabbing you harder as you continued. His groan was almost a growl as he finally stepped out of his pants, quickly getting rid of his shirt before pulling you up and pushing you down onto your bed.

"Think you’re ready for this? Might hurt a little, but that's nothing to worry about. Just tell me if you feel uncomfortable, okay?"

You nodded, your heart racing as he lined himself up with your pussy, one hand steadying you while the other was pushing his cock inside you.

The stretch was intense, your body trying to adjust to him, and he paused every inch or so, letting you get used to the feel of his cock, making sure you weren’t in any pain. As he pushed further, his other hand found yours, both your fingers intertwining to keep you from getting lost in the slightly uncomfortable pressure at first.

"You’re alright, sweetheart. Just breathe," he mumbled, kissing your cheek, waiting until you gave him a signal to keep going.

Negan’s forehead rested against yours as he pushed further inside. "You’re doing so well for me. So damn good."

Each inch he gave you felt thicker, the pressure hard but not painful. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I’m good."

"That's a good girl," he whispered. "Let me know if it’s too much, and I’ll stop. I mean it."

Finally, he was fully inside, filling you up in a way that felt overwhelming—almost too much.

But Negan didn’t move right away. He stayed there, deep inside you, as you both caught your breath. His free hand moved down, sliding up your thigh as if to calm you. "You’re taking me so damn good, doll. Feels like you were made for me."

You tightened your legs around his hips, clinging to him as if letting go would somehow destroy the magic of the moment.

"How’s that feel, huh?" he asked as he started to move. "Don’t hold back, baby. I wanna hear you. Bet it feels so fucking good."

Between moans, your free hand found his shoulder, nails scratching his skin as you held on. You could feel how he was holding himself back from losing control, but now and then, a loud groan slipped out, followed by a deeper and quicker thrust.

You swallowed hard, your voice trembling. "It’s—oh fuck—it’s so good, Negan!"

That was all he wanted to hear from you. "Fuck, you’re so tight," he growled, starting to rub slow circles over your clit.

And the feeling of his cock, the fullness, was maddening, each faster thrust of him making you hold harder onto him.

Tears started to appear in your eyes, but not from pain. Negan noticed immediately as he untangled his hand from yours and cupped your cheek. "Hey, hey… You okay? Tell me if this is too much."

You shook your head quickly, blinking back the tears. "It’s not that—it’s just… I didn’t know it could feel like this."

"But you deserve this," he said quietly. "Deserve to be treated right. To be fucked right."

And it didn't take long until a new, even stranger pressure built itself inside you—something new but irresistible like you were on the edge of something intense, or maybe even embarrassing, but you couldn’t reach it, and he didn't let you.

You rolled your hips against him, searching for more—the need for something harder, something faster. Both your hands now gripped his shoulders tightly while you whimpered in frustration.

"Negan… more," you begged with urgency, only to make him stop.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. "Oh, you want more, huh?" He asked, teasing you.

You nodded, arching your back to meet his next thrust. "Please," you gasped, your thighs tightening around his hips as you tried to pull him deeper.

"Easy, sweetheart," he said, his hands gripping your hips firmly, pushing you back down. "You’ll get what you need, but you’re gonna take it slow."

He thrust into you again, painfully slow, his cock pushing against your sensitive spot inside you. You tried again to lift your hips, but his grip tightened, holding you still and him thrusting harder.

"You feel that?" He growled. "How good I make you feel when you let me take my time?"

"Negan, I think… I think I need to… pee." You could barely get the words out, too caught up in the feeling and your sudden shame, until you felt like you might burst.

"You think you need to piss? Nah, that’s just me fuckin’ you so goddamn good."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the overwhelming feeling between your legs pushed it away.

"Let it go, baby. Let me make you lose it." As if on cue, he thrust faster, burying himself in your pussy just right, over and over again, until your whole body stiffened. "That’s it," Negan groaned, watching with fascination. "Fucking perfect."

Suddenly, without warning, your pussy clenched tightly around his cock as you came, your entire body trembling.

"Oh… yes, yes, yes!" You moaned out loud, your nails scratching down his whole back and grabbing his ass, trying to push him deeper again. "That feels so fucking good! Don't stop! Don't stop! Don't—"

Negan ate your moans and whimpers up like a man starved. "Goddamn, baby, next time you're gonna be squirting all over me," he groaned, not slowing down. "Could feel you coming like this all the time."

It was like everything went black, your orgasm shooting so intensely through you in a way that left you breathless, with you clinging so tightly to him as your body shuddered, moaning his name in pure need.

Watching you come so hard around him had done something to Negan, something he wasn’t expecting so fast. That look on your face, the way your body was shaking, the way you’d gasped his name—hell, he wanted to keep that image burned into his mind forever.

He slowed his movements just enough to not come too soon. His eyes never left your face, watching you ride out your orgasm, writhing against him and wanting more, given that blissed-out expression on your face. He was right there, on the edge himself, and for another moment, he let himself get lost in the way you squirmed, all desperate, a sight simply too good for words.

Just before Negan came, he quickly pulled out, but your hand grabbed his wrist. "Negan, please," you begged, your thighs trembling as you reached for him. "I want you to come inside me."

He froze, staring down at you in disbelief. "Fuck, doll," he said, his hand stroking his cock as he positioned himself over you. "Believe me, I sure as hell would."

"Then do it," you demanded as your hips moved toward him, trying to push him back inside.

But Negan shook his head, his grin returning as he leaned down, his lips kissing yours. "Not gonna happen. Can’t let you get knocked up… just yet."

He was squeezing his cock and pumping a few more strokes until he finally exploded, his cum shooting all over your stomach and tits. It was everything he loved about moments like this. The sight of you, the feeling of his cock pulsing in his hand and marking you with his load… everything.

"Shit... You know, that might just be my new favorite view," he soon smirked, letting out a shaky laugh.

You blushed, suddenly very aware of his cum all over you and the ache that you still felt between your legs.

You were sprawled out on the bed, your body still trembling, your legs twitching slightly as if they couldn’t handle the sudden emptiness.

"Fuckin’ hell," he continued, as he now knelt at the edge of the bed, his hands spreading your thighs apart again. "Look at this, sweetheart. Look at how bad your pussy still wants me."

Before you could process what was happening, he leaned in, his tongue licking over your oversensitive clit. You screamed, and Negan’s strong hands pinned you down as his mouth tasted you, his tongue teasing you like he had all the time in the world.

"Negan—fuck, it’s too much," you whined, trying to squirm away, but his grip tightened.

"Nah, sweetheart," he growled, pulling back just long enough to smirk up at you. "You can take it."

His tongue moved lower, teasing your folds, and when he finally slid it inside, you let out a loud cry. He groaned against you as he took his time tasting you and eating you out, his nose bumping against your clit.

It didn’t take long before you were coming again as you sobbed his name, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer even as your body begged for a break.

When he finally pulled away, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smirked at you. "Hell, I think you’re my new favorite meal. You look like a goddamn masterpiece."

You groaned, half-embarrassed, half-needy, and gave him a weak push on the chest with one leg. "Well, don’t just sit there and stare."

"Bossy already, huh?" He laughed, shaking his head as he stood up. He yanked open one of the drawers, rummaging through until he found an old rag.

"Hold still, sweetheart," he said, kneeling back over you and wiping away the cum. "Can’t have you goin’ around lookin’ like that. Might make people think I’ve got myself a favorite," he winked, his grin looking just a tiny bit arrogant.

But as he leaned over you, moving the rag over tits and cleaning them, his thumb brushed over one of your nipples, and you let out a soft moan.

Negan just smiled. "Guess I did a damn good job."

Before you could respond, his lips sucked on the same nipple he’d just touched. He sucked gently, his tongue switching from one to the other, squeezing and massaging your tits.

"Can’t help myself, darling. These tits deserve some extra love."

Once he was done, he tossed the rag aside, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, his mouth all tender against your skin.

"You did so good. Real damn good,” he whispered like he wanted you to feel every word as he moved next to you again, putting an arm around you and pulling you close against him.

You let out a sigh, the exhaustion quickly starting to catch up to you as you cuddled up to him, feeling safe, even here, even with him. "I… didn't bleed down there, right? Or did I?"

"No, you didn't; don't worry. Not every woman does. But don’t you go getting used to this," he teased. "Next time, I’ll just have to make sure I don’t leave you so damn worn out. Can’t have you fallin’ asleep on me every time."

You mumbled something he couldn't make out, half asleep already, but he just held you tighter.

"Alright, alright, get some sleep then, sweetheart," he whispered, his hand brushing through your hair. "I’ll be right here, don’t you worry. Just sleep. That was your first time, after all."

And you did, soon drifting off, strangely feeling safer than you had in a long time, to the sound of his heartbeat that stayed with you even as you slipped into sleep.

But the next morning slammed into you like a brick to the face. Your eyes blinked open to the sight of Negan’s chest and the scratch of his beard against you. The rest of the day before came back quick—too quick—every moment of his hands on your body, his mouth… him so deep inside of you.

You flinched away, heart racing as you pushed yourself out and away from under his arm. Every bit of you wanted to scream with shame and anger. This was Negan—the man who’d terrorized everyone you cared about, and here you were with him, completely naked.

You grabbed the first thing you could reach—a glass on the nightstand—and threw it at the wall. A pillow went flying, then a chair.

You saw him waking up, but you couldn’t stop. It was a need—this craving to let it all out. That man had you wrapped around his finger without you even realizing it—and now you wanted out. It was impossible, but right now, nothing was making sense; nothing felt real. And you were scared.

"Hey, hey, calm the hell down, would you?" Negan’s voice came from behind you. You ignored him, anger rising again as you grabbed for anything else you could throw, maybe even at him.

"Get away from me!" You snapped, turning to look at him, fists clenched at your sides. "I can't—you're… This is all so fucked, Negan! Do you even get that?" You shoved him back, but he grabbed your wrists tightly.

"Oh, I get it, alright," he smirked, his grin widening as he held your wrists. "Seems like someone’s a little sore, huh? Confused, even?"

"Let go of me!" You struggled, trying to move away, but he didn’t let go. The more you fought, the tighter he grabbed, his eyes watching you with amusement.

"Think I’m going to let you throw shit around and just walk away?" He asked, pulling you closer.

"Negan, let me go!" You shouted again, your voice cracking as he turned you around, holding you close against his chest from behind, both of his arms wrapping around your body. You tried to fight, legs kicking, elbows shoving, but it was no use.

"Keep fighting, doll. You’re just making this more fun."

He pressed his mouth against your neck, kissing and biting down just enough to make you moan for him. It only made you angrier and more desperate to get away, but he held on to keep you exactly where he wanted.

"Why are you doing this?" You hissed, still struggling, but your strength was fading. "What do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" He loosened his hold just enough to spin you around to face him again, one hand keeping you close, the other tilting up your chin softly. "Shit, maybe I just like the way how sexy you look when you’re all riled up and pissed."

Adrenaline was still rushing through you, but now it was also confusion—and a feeling you could hardly even name. But you knew better. You just didn't want to acknowledge it.

And as Negan finally let go of you, letting you step back, neither of you spoke. You couldn't look at him as he took his sweet time reaching for his clothes across the floor. He didn’t seem the slightest bit worried by your outburst, your fury, or any of it. He just slid on his pants, putting on his shirt, and the leather jacket slung over one shoulder as he walked back to you.

And he stopped right in front of you, tilting his head with a smirk that now seemed almost cruel like he knew exactly what you were going through.

"You see, there’s a certain fine line, baby," he whispered, his voice sounding like gravel against silk. He leaned in close, his breath touching your ear. "Between everything we thought we hated… and everything we can’t seem to stop craving."

Then, just as casually as he’d fucked you, he moved his lips to yours, teasing you with a kiss and watching your reaction closely before pulling back, letting you stand there while he grabbed Lucille from the ground.

Negan wasn't looking back at you as he stepped out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and the fine line he’d just cut straight through you.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

maybe some fluff and smut w negan where reader has scars/self harm scars and reader is like looking at them thinking about the past and negan cheers her up😋 also he’s like aggresive in bed but is sweet outside all that. also maybe some aftercare included too

thank you so so much for requesting (and for your patience!) I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Post Whisperer War Negan x f!reader

Tags: mentions of self harm, mentions of suicidal thoughts, cunnilingus, rough sex, pet names, swearing, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.5k

The voices around you blend into a monotonous rhythm. At this point in the community meeting, they shouldn’t be surprised people are beginning to zone out as they rehash the same talking points over and over again. 

You try to force yourself to focus but it’s a losing battle. The gist of it, as Negan so eloquently said to you the other day is “At this rate, the only thing that’ll be on the menu is regret, served with a big glass of desperation… but hey, if we gotta start cannibalising each other, I have no problem eating you out”. 

That last part earned him a scoff and quick slap to the arm.

Gathering in the heart of what was once the thriving community of Alexandria, the aftermath of the Whisperer's rampage is visible everywhere. Ruined homes, scattered debris of what was once vibrant greenhouses and the scarcity of resources cast a shadow of uncertainty over everyone.

“Gabriel is already working on the vegetable patches,” Rosita takes over “but we need food. Now. So I say we raid the old military base not too far from here. We can round some people up and scavenge through there in a few days time. Daryl’s out there now, seeing if it’s worth it”.

You sit quietly on the porch steps to one of the only houses left habitable, staring down at the scars that map your hands and lead up one of your forearms.

It’s been a while since you’ve truly stopped and studied each one, every line acting as a reminder of a time when pain felt like the only answer. 

You trace the lines with your fingertips, the blurry memories of these desperate moments slowly coming back to you. Back then, it was a release and the only way to stop the chaos swirling inside your mind. You remember the fleeting relief that followed, how it dulled the aching inside, if only for a moment. 

In a twisted way, it’s quite funny. You’ve fought so hard to stay alive since the dead began to rise and yet you would still do this, still hurt yourself.

How ironic.

You let out a small sigh, shifting your gaze up to watch Rosita again and pretend like you’re listening. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve self harmed or even had those thoughts. It feels dangerous to think about though, as if thinking back to those memories is like walking a tightrope of temptation. 

“If you’re interested in going to the military base, talk to me or Carol about it,” Rosita begins to finally wrap up the meeting “if not, then go speak to Gabriel or Aaron about helping with the rebuild. We gotta all work on this, no slacking. That’s the only way Alexandria can survive”. You nod vaguely to her words and thankfully, the meeting ends. 

As everyone disperses, you stay seated on the porch steps. Your mind feels foggy as it struggles to fully return to the present moment.

Thoughts of the past continue to tug at your consciousness, lingering like a bad smell. A sigh escapes your lips as you run a hand down your face, your eyes immediately going back to the scars that litter your arm. 

“You buffering or something?” The question completely catches you off guard, the deep voice coming from behind you. 

You already know who it is, of course you do, especially since you’re one of the only people he ever approaches— mainly because he knows you won’t tell him to fuck off… without good reason.

“I can’t just sit and enjoy the view?” you bat back, your prior feelings instantly getting masked with a facade of sass. 

Negan leaves the safety of the doorway now that it’s just the two of you. He grunts softly as he sits beside you, looking out at the remains of Alexandria.

 “... what view?” he asks dryly.

You roll your eyes. “Jackass” you curse him playfully.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a few moments, silently debating how to go about this. “You catch everything that was said in the meeting?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

Negan doesn’t exactly understand why but he always finds himself drifting over to you, his gaze flickering between you and whatever he’s supposed to be paying attention to. And the past few minutes of the meeting has been a very obvious case of depressive daydreaming, something he’s seen you slip into every once in a while.

“Hm? Yeah,” you shrug casually, glancing over at him.

He waits, wondering if you’ll crack and open up on your own. When you don’t, he tries again.

“You got notes written out on the lines on your arm?” Negan gestures to your scars, being as blunt as possible about it. 

Automatically covering your arm with your other hand, you shoot him a glare. Negan has always somehow toed the line, knowing how direct he can be without upsetting you too much. 

He doesn't push; he simply tests the waters before backing down and letting you take the lead. Negan quickly put his hands up in surrender. He knew there was no easy way of mentioning your scars but the sooner he addresses it, the sooner you’ll talk. 

He’s expecting a slap or to be cussed out for mentioning it but instead, you stand and march into the house.

It’s your natural reaction to flee the second someone mentions your scars, something you’ve done even when others simply looked in the direction of your arm.

He groans out your name, instantly standing to follow. “Don’t just walk off,” he follows you inside, silently thankful that the house is empty, everyone else out working for the day “you know I didn’t mean it like that… well, you know I didn’t mean to offend ya”.

You pause, debating with yourself on what to do. You opt to look down at the floor, unsure how to feel about the sudden confrontation.

"Listen, I get it. I saw ya eyeballin’ your arm for half the meeting and not to get all mushy and shit, but those scars don’t define you” Negan's expression shifts, giving way to something more sincere. He steps closer, his tone dropping to a softer register.

“They’re not a mark of weakness or worthlessness or whatever bullshit you tell yourself. They show you survived. You’ve got grit and I admire that more than anything.” He reaches out, gently grasping your chin to tilt your face toward his.

Despite every inch of you wanting to run again, you look up. The warmth in his eyes is undeniable and as much as you want to sink further into your defences, you can feel them slowly melt away.

You've always been a fortress in life, sturdy and unyielding. Every brick laid was a lesson learned, or another wound healed. 

You've perfected the art of keeping people at arm's length, never letting them see the cracks that run beneath the surface. In today’s world, vulnerability feels like a foreign language and one you've continuously avoided speaking.

“And if you ever need to remind yourself just how strong you are,” Negan continues, dropping his hand back down to his side “I’m right here, darlin’” 

You smile at his valiant offer and before you can stop it, you slowly open up “I just… sometimes, even when I don’t want to do those things again, I still think back to it. It’s like I’m reminiscing… and it can be hard to decipher whether my brain is thinking back because I want to be back there again or because I’m relieved I’m not…”. 

You brace for the impact, scanning for the possible retreat in Negan’s eyes but instead, you see nothing but understanding.

“You don’t think I feel like that now that I’m a supposed free man?” He asks softly “Even now, there’s still days —usually when I get the hundredth dose of stink eye thrown towards me— that I wonder if I’d be better off disappearing back into that cage. Even though I fuckin’ hated being in there!”. 

A strange sensation almost overwhelms you. The tension in your shoulders strangely ease and for the first time in ages, you're both not just survivors forced to endure; you're simply you and Negan is simply Negan.

Both of you flawed, real, and human. In his presence, vulnerability seems like less of a burden and more of a shared strength.

The air crackles with unspoken words and electric energy. You can almost taste the bittersweet mix of apprehension and desire. It's suffocating and you know you need an escape… but not by running away. 

As you look into his eyes, something shifts within you. The world outside fades and all that matters is in this room. Right now, you want to cast aside any doubts and just embrace the thrill. 

In a quick move, you step closer to him, invading his personal space. The sombre glint in Negan’s eyes transforms into something deeper.

Without thinking, you reach for him, fingers brushing against his arm and igniting a spark that sends a shiver through you both. Surprise flickers past his face before that signature grin breaks through, wide and knowing. 

You lean in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “This has all been… a lot…” you begin, unsure how exactly you’re about to say this “and I think… I think I might just need—“

Negan doesn’t give you time to finish that sentence, your urge towards him telling him all he needs to know.

In one swift motion, he pulls you flush against him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that ignites a wildfire of emotion. It’s a blend of urgency and tenderness, a collision of passion that leaves you breathless. 

It’s dizzying, the way he makes you feel seen, even if it’s just for this heartbeat in time. You let yourself be swept away, surrendering to the connection that pulls you both together.

“Oh I know exactly what you need“ Negan mutters against your lips.

You pull him into another bruising kiss before egging him on further “Then show me”.

That’s all Negan needs, your request allowing him to let loose. Capturing your lips in another kiss, he slowly begins moving forward, forcing you back until you hit against a table. He grabs your waist and lifts you up onto it, his hands immediately going for the zip of your pants.

He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “You just sit back,” he instructs, pleased as you lift your hips and let him tug down your jeans, not stopping until they’re on the floor beside him “let me take care of everything, baby”.

In an instant, Negan is kneeling between your thighs, pressing soft kisses along both legs. You can feel the warmth gather at your core, immediately wanting to welcome every inch of him.

“Ready to turn off your brain for a bit? Hmm?” Looking up at you through his eyelashes, Negan places a gentle kiss on your clothed pussy. 

He tries not to smirk as he feels your pussy pulsing desperately for him. Letting out a whimper, you nod.

“Ah ah ah,” Negan tuts, his tone as soft as it can be despite his scolding words “you made me wait a long fuckin’ time to show you a good time, you damn well know I’m not going to dig in until I hear you say it”. 

“Fuck– Negan, yes,” you say breathlessly, glancing at the door as you do “please, I want you”. Even with how exposed you are, your mind is too hazy to care about the possibility of someone walking in. All your attention is on Negan’s breath that’s only a mere few centimetres away from your soaked pussy.

Kissing you through your panties again, Negan hooks a finger around the fabric and slowly pulls it to the side, carefully revealing his gift.

Without a second thought, he buries his face between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly to keep you from squirming away. 

You gasp loudly, not expecting so much contact so quickly. You bite your lip to quieten your moans but it’s no use.

He looks up at you with his mouth full of your pussy, his eyes gleaming with desire. He sucks harder, his tongue flicking rapidly against your clit. 

He releases his hands from your hips to rub your ass, pulling you against his face. Mumbling against your most sensitive area, a shiver runs up your spine as he compliments “Mmm, best fuckin’ meal I’ve had in years.”

Your legs quiver as you get closer to the edge, your core helplessly clenching around nothing as he eats you out. He’s determined, you’ll give him that. And the one thing Negan wants now more than anything is to taste your release on his tongue.  

“Come for me, doll” he growls encouraging, his stubble scratching your inner thighs. 

With a series of whines and moans for more, you let go.

He keeps his face between your thighs, lapping up your essence as you come undone. Negan waits until you've stopped convulsing before he lifts his head up, wiping your gleaming juices away from his mouth with the back of his hand.

He grins up at you, happy with his work. “Well, you wanted me…” he trails off purposefully, taking a moment to plant a kiss on your leg before giving a slight tug at your panties that are still pushed out of the way “so now you’re gonna get me”.

Negan hurriedly unbuckles his pants as he stands, freeing his hard cock and giving himself a few strokes, precum already dripping from the tip. Working in tandem, you yank down your panties and drop them next to your jeans. 

Before your panties have time to hit the floor, Negan’s kissing you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist, both of you as impatient at the other.

“This what you wanted, huh?” Negan continues to talk, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick entrance, “this the distraction you were looking for?”.

You speak only in moans, going wild at the sensation of his cock being so close to your centre and yet still so far away from actually being inside of you. 

He cups your chin, making you maintain eye contact as he presses you for an answer “I can’t hear you, sweetness”.

“Please, just do it” you pant, still not over your initial high.

He grins wider at your compliance and slowly pushes into you, his eyes locked onto yours. Your body tenses as he stretches you out in a way that borders on painful. “Negan,” his name leaves your mouth as a haggard breath.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, you know you’re ready for it, you can take it” he coos, pushing all the way in before he stops to give you time to adjust.

He groans as he fully sheaths himself inside you, his hips flush against yours. Attempting to be a gentleman, Negan starts slow.

His eyes leave yours, watching as he gradually pulls out. He grunts satisfactorily, filling you to the hilt again. 

“Please,” you whimper “don’t tease”.

Negan chuckles, though his restraint is weakening “Patience is a virtue, darlin’”.

You tilt your head back, the slow force of Negan inside of you making your brain melt. All you want is already inside of you but it’s not enough. This isn’t a time for sweet love making. 

You want to be fucked, plain and simple.

“Yeah and you’re a vice so fuck me already,” you nudge the heel your foot against his ass, trying to make him speed up. Negan smirks again, his ego adoring your words.

The table creaks under you when he picks up the pace, the wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room. 

"You can take it, can’t you? Fuck yeah, I know you can" He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he continues to pound into you. 

You nod desperately, wanting to prove to him that you can take all he’s got to give. He hooks his arms under your knees, spreading you wider and increasing his depth.

His movements become harder and faster, making sure you can feel every inch of him. You yearn it, trying desperately to shimmy your hips on the table to meet each thrust.

Negan pistons into you like a man on a mission, burying his face in by your neck as his hands frantically begin to explore your body. Negan knows he won’t last much longer, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take this opportunity to finally see your tits. 

His hands push up your shirt, hiking it up in a hurry as your bra comes into view. “Wanna introduce me to the girls?” He suggests, his breath coming out in hot pants against your neck.

At this moment, you want everything just as much as he does. Reaching down, you lift up your bra just enough for your breasts to come free.

Even though there’s no rush, it feels as though you don’t have the time to take off your bra properly, feeling that coil tighten in your lower stomach.

His eyes drop to your chest, and he licks his lips hungrily. “Goddamn, just when I thought you couldn’t get any better” Negan cups your breasts roughly, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he continues to fuck into you. He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Oh my fucking—” you groan out, interupting yourself with another moan. You grip the edge of the table enough to turn your knuckles white, your whole body feeling overwhelmed.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop and straightens up, his thumb trailing down to your swollen clit.

“C’mon darlin’, I need to feel ya clench around me,” Negan slams into you, his rhythm erratic as he nears his own release “one more time, baby, come for me”. 

Your body convulses as it hits you. Gasps morph into a wave of quick, sharp pants as you clutch Negan any way you can. Feeling your pussy clamp down on his shaft, Negan’s hips sputter to a stop as the contractions send him over the edge with you.

It takes all of Negan’s willpower not to stay exactly how he is; with his dick buried deep inside of you. 

But he knows better and quickly pulls out, releasing his load onto your inner thigh instead. He has to nuzzle his face in by your neck, silencing himself the best he can. The last thing either of you need is Negan to get loud and attract people from outside.

The sound of your mixed breaths fill the room as you both come back to your senses. You look down at the mess on your thigh, wondering how much longer you both have until someone comes looking for one of you. 

“You know what?” Negan breaks the silence, a sheen of sweat across his forehead as he moves to look at you “I think I like it when you open up”. He nudges your legs, a deep chuckling escaping him.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes “and get me a towel or something”. He licks his lips, his mind already wondering what your next session will be like, subtly noting how much he likes hearing you order him around. 

He nods “Yes ma’am”.

Leaning down, Negan searches the back pockets of his pants before pulling out a small handkerchief.

“Now,” he announces as he gently wipes his cum off of your thigh “my cum rag can become ours”.

“Negan!” You exclaim, your hands busy yanking your bra and shirt back down to push the rag away from you “Don’t use your dirty cum rag on me!!”. 

Negan chuckles, his smile alone keeping your annoyance at bay. “I’m just fucking with ya, it ain’t a cum rag,” he wipes the last drop of himself off your leg “but now that we’ve christened it as a cum rag, I guess that means we'll have to use it again”. 

Negan winks as if you don’t get the obvious insinuation and before you can object, he kisses you. You’re quick to reciprocate, knowing that there’s no way you’d turn down an opportunity like this again.

A faint smirk graces his face as Negan pulls back, pleased with the fact that you returned his kiss.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Negan clears his throat “But seriously, next time you need to talk to somebody, or open up them legs, I’m your man”. 

You smile at the sincerity of his words, knowing he’s completely and utterly serious about both offers. 

Thinking for a moment, you agree “I will”. 

He holds up his pinky “Promise? And then I’ll help you into your jeans?”. 

You scoff as if he’s inconveniencing you by making you a pinky promise but you both know you appreciate the gesture. Lifting your pinky up to his, they hook together.

“Promise”.

And with that, Negan steals one more kiss before helping you back into your jeans.

[loves4yukio]

Unspoken Desires

Negan x F!Reader

Summary : You consistently rejected Negan's romantic advances because you didn't wish to become another one of his conquests. You avoid him as much as you could, but things became more intricate when he revealed his sole interest in you and no one else.

Warnings (18+) : SMUT, age gap (you are in your 20's and Negan is in his mid-late 40's), swearing, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!Negan, secret relationship, no use of y/n, mentions of sex (?) — I'm not sure what to put, so if you have any advice, I'll take it.

Word count : 5k6

You endured what felt like the most draining day of your existence. Your time outdoors alongside Simon, engaging in a lengthy run, exceeded the usual duration, leads you to return later than anticipated to the Sanctuary — where you seek solace in the privacy of your bedroom. Shedding your work attire, you exchanged it for the comfort of shorts and a cozy sweater, an outfit suited for rest. Seated at your desk, you embarked upon the task of drafting the expedition report, as mandated by Negan.

You toil in silence, engrossed in the task, driven by your yearning to assimilate into the community and meet Negan's expectations. When you're at last content with the outcome, you glance up from your desk, eyeing the time displayed on the clock. 'It's getting late, I need a break,' you muse. The alluring temptation of watching a movie, an idea often suggested by Negan, tempted you irresistibly.

As a recent addition to the Saviors, you had caught Negan's profound interest, the reasons for which remained a mystery to you. On numerous occasions, you found his intense gaze fixed upon you, his signature smile accompanying his playful, suggestive banter. The effect it had on you was undeniable, stirring an internal storm you couldn't easily dismiss.

Occasionally, you yielded to his allure, but it always left you in self-reproach, retreating into seclusion and creating distance. Negan always persisted, unwilling to swiftly relinquish his grasp on you. He was resolute, refusing to let you go to another.

Negan was known for his ladies' man side. He already had six wives by his side. Negan being Negan, he had proposed you become one of them, but you persistently declined, knowing it wouldn’t bring you joy. Yet, here you found yourself, part of his inner circle and laboring under his directives. This didn't deter him from the amusement of seducing you, sending your senses spinning — a pleasure he relished, especially the moments when you'd bite your lip each time he whispered something dirty in your ear.

Satisfied with the task's completion, you left your chambers, strolling silently through the corridor of the floor designated for Negan and his wives. You had the liberty to wander there at will, given your residence on that floor — Negan had made it clear that the floor was as much your abode as his and his wives'.

As you lingered in the room's alcove, the soft hum of the television reached your ears. Despite the dimness, the silhouettes on the couch were distinguishable. For a fleeting moment, you observed Negan and a few of his wives holding each other tenderly, their forms intertwined in a embrace.

This simple yet profound sight stirred a tumult of emotions within you. While relieved not to be entangled in Negan's romantic affairs, you couldn't stifle the growing pangs of jealousy. Negan embodied the epitome of your ideal man : handsome, funny, sociable and seemingly damn good at sex. Some nights, the sounds of their cries of pleasures echoed through the corridors upstairs, teasing a tale of their intimate rendezvous.

With the utmost care, you glided across the floor, your steps hushed to avoid disrupting their tranquility. Neither of them caught a glimpse of your passing silhouette ; such was your stealth. Arriving in the kitchen, you prepared a light snack, allowing the gentle whir of the refrigerator to fill the space.

Within the serene hush of the living room, where the dimmed lights cast the room in a veil of darkness, an aged cowboy movie flickered on the screen. Negan slumped on the generous couch, a soft sigh escaping him as Frankie sought solace against his shoulder. A fleeting moment of quiet ensued until one of them decided to shatter the silence.

“Has she returned from work ?” Sherry inquired on your behalf, arching an eyebrow, her attention diverted from the movie flickering on the television.

Shifting his gaze toward her, Negan emitted a noncommittal sound, almost an 'I dunno,' just before ensnaring her in a kiss filled with such fervor that it deterred her from pursuing the topic. Using it as a diversion, he let his hand slide down her back, the touch lingering on the black fabric of her dress, seeking more intimate contact.

“I'll be back, I'll fetch us some snacks. I'm feeling a bit peckish,” Amber murmured, beginning to withdraw from the group. However, Negan's hand swiftly seized her thigh, wordlessly commanding her to remain where she was.

“You're not fucking going anywhere, darling. I've got this covered, ladies,” Negan declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a final surreptitious kiss, seizing Frankie's jaw for a change, he rose to make his way towards the kitchen, where he finds you. Unnoticed by you, he seized the chance to gaze at you, slyly running his tongue over his lips.

Deep in thought, you positioned the containers on the kitchen counter. When you eventually faced him, you briefly glanced away, continuing your preparations ; as if focusing on the task could banish the persistent memories clouding your mind. Negan picked up on your deliberate actions, earning one of his trademark, smug smiles.

“How long have you been here, sweetheart ?” His question sliced through the air, his tone betraying no notice of the tension that crept into your body upon hearing his voice.

“Not too long. I just came down,” you responded, daring to meet his gaze once more.

Observing him move around the central cabinet, selecting a variety of nuts to fill a small dish, he paused in his desire to approach the refrigerator, positioning himself behind you. He pressed your form gently against the counter, allowing his weight to meld with yours. His warm breath danced across the curve of your neck as his lips drew close to your ear.

“Aren't you joining us ?” he inquired, planting tender kisses against your soft skin, echoing a familiarity from moments when you were alone.

Your gaze remained evasive, yet inwardly, you pondered the wisdom of joining them in the living room. The situation was already taut with tension, and you hesitated to further complicate matters. On one hand, the desire to spend time with them lingered, but on the other, an apprehension loomed — an uncertainty of what might unfold, beyond your control.

“I'm not sure that's wise, Negan,” you murmured softly, breathlessly.

“Smart enough to handle it, darlin',” Negan replied with a sly smirk, dismissing your concern.

He remained silent, his hazel eyes fixed upon you in quiet contemplation. Your body tingled under his fleeting touch, heightening the feverish sensation as he grazed against you. Carefully tearing open a bag of chips, you delicately poured a portion into a bowl, then turned to present it to him.

“Here. I wouldn't want you to miss the movie because of me,” you said, offering an innocent smile.

The warmth and tenderness of your presence felt soothing, as though it seamlessly melded with his, an indelible union. With each step, he sought to intoxicate himself within this fleeting moment, wishing it could linger a little longer. Ceasing the intimate connection by turning towards him brought a sense of discomfort to Negan, especially when he was reveling in the closeness.

His hands mirrored your actions as you turned to face him, his countenance etched with seriousness, his unwavering gaze fixed upon you. Lifting the bowl of chips you'd prepared, he wordlessly returned it to the counter, observing you as if something unusual was unfolding. His scrutiny delved deep, as though attempting to decipher the depths of your soul.

“Then go to your room,” his words sliced the air, unexpectedly severe, nearly cutting.

His stare posed a challenge, urging you to venture beyond the ordinary. It was no longer just about the movie, and you were acutely aware of this shift. He was testing you.

Your brow arched in response to his intense scrutiny, granting him permission to draw nearer. You felt defenseless, adrift, and utterly powerless. His husky voice only added to your sense of unease. It was absurd how effortlessly you seemed to be losing your self-possession, akin to a fragile leaf that could be easily crumpled in his grasp. The very notion made your heart race within your chest.

Enveloped by the weight of his penetrating gaze, you hesitated to even reach out to touch him. You found yourself silently studying him, attempting to decipher the cryptic undertone of his words. Tilting your head ever so slightly, you cast a swift, cautious glance around, ensuring no prying eyes were upon you, before returning your focus to him.

He stood before you, a commanding presence, his unwavering, intense gaze fixed upon you. Was it even your place to be standing alongside them ? You blinked, releasing a breath as you succumbed to the overwhelming closeness. It might have appeared peculiar, perhaps even self-centered, but you would have preferred if his wives were absent. It could have been the attraction you felt toward Negan… or for some undisclosed reason.

“Must I, really ?” you blurted in a voice barely louder than a whisper, surrendering to the game. “Seems to me like you're eager for my company. Don't you ?”

“Oh, you think so, huh ? You don't have a damn clue about the game you're playing, sweetheart.”

His lips, once momentarily dry, became moistened by a subtle lick, accentuating his wolfish grin. Your hips were gently pressed against the counter's edge, his eyes traversing your form, observing your casual attire. Despite the room's darkness, his gaze fixated upon you, brimming with unwavering attention.

Within moments, you leaned against the nearby furniture, settling there while maintaining an unbroken gaze with him. Negan briefly scanned the kitchen's entrance before redirecting his focus back to you. Ensnared under his intense scrutiny, you found yourself entranced, incapable of averting your eyes from the fervor of his. Each step he took toward you sent shivers down your spine, accelerating the rhythm of your heart. Your breaths grew shallower, the atmosphere thick with an electric charge.

“Don't start something that you can't finish,” he moved a step nearer.

“Who said I couldn't see it through ?” you retorted mischievously.

Negan moved with a predator's intent, every step bringing him closer to you until he stood mere inches away. In that suspended moment, it felt as though time had halted, the world vanishing to leave only the confined space that separated the two of you. The passing seconds dragged by, laden with anticipation, until he loomed over you, finally capturing your face in a firm yet gentle hold, drawing it close to his. His intense gaze traced every curve of your eyes and lips, as if they beckoned to him.

As his fingers secured your face, a soft moan escaped your lips, lost amidst the hollow of his kiss. The ensuing embrace was fervent, ablaze with passion, and you responded with the entirety of the longing you held for him. However, Negan aimed to tantalize you, so he permitted the kiss to endure for just a few moments, kindling a flame within you and intensifying your longing for more. Releasing a frustrated sigh, you felt an intense longing — an unquenched fire that left you parched.

“Now there's a spot on the couch waiting for your pretty ass,” he remarked, letting you go. With a bottle of liquor and the two snack bowls in hand, he strode away, leaving you behind.

Returning to the living room, the movie played on, and he seamlessly carried on watching it, feigning normalcy by exchanging a kiss with one of his wives. It was disquieting to witness the charade of his role as the perfect husband with them, all the while engaging in infidelity with you.

“Screw me…” you muttered under your breath before exiting the room, carrying your tray toward the living area.

Sherry arched a curious eyebrow upon witnessing you arrange the appetizers on the coffee table, casually taking a few pistachios as she passed by. Unaware of your true intent, she observed you taking a seat on the sofa — pretending to concentrate fully on the movie playing on the television. It was then that she realized you intended to join them in watching the film.

With a glass of whiskey in hand, Negan slipped off his shoes and stretched out along the couch, observing your approach without quite meeting your gaze. Amber perched at the edge of the sofa, indulging in the snacks from the bowls.

Leaning behind Amber — careful not to touch her, Negan reached out with his leather-clad hand toward you. His fingers delicately slipped under your sweater, making direct contact with your skin, absentmindedly caressing it without averting his eyes from the television. You attempted to divert your attention to the screen, as though nothing had transpired. Nevertheless, your body responded intensely to his tender caresses, the sensation mingling with the remnants of his previous kiss, drawing you closer, yearning for more contact.

With every delicate rise of his fingers, it was as if you were engulfed in an irresistible yet tormenting inferno. Despite the turmoil within, an appearance of composure had to be maintained, a guise of indifference. His actions appeared effortless, his focus fixed on the screen, while his touch crept higher and higher, only to smoothly readjust as Amber settled in between you on the couch. He cleared his throat, flashing his characteristic shit-eating grin.

The movie merely served as a facade, concealing the true currents swirling in the room. The tension became almost suffocating, an unspoken magnetism pulling at your souls, yet no one acknowledged the brewing tempest, recklessly dancing with fire. The intensity between you both had swelled to an almost tangible thickness, enough to be sliced through with the sharpest blade. You cast a feverish glance toward Frankie, prompting her to sit upright, sensing the charged atmosphere.

“I think I'm ready for bed,” Frankie whispered a little suddenly.

“Same, I'm getting really sleepy,” Amber added.

“Mhm, I'm heading off too. Try not to stay up too late, guys,” Sherry said as she followed the other two women.

“Sleep tight, ladies,” Negan's parting was sealed with a tender kiss to each of the women, yet his unwavering gaze remained locked with yours. He was aware of your watchful gaze and took the opportunity to playfully tease you.

They dispersed into the solace of their individual chambers, melting into the shadows. While maintaining a facade of attention towards the television, he covertly tracked their movements until he was certain of your seclusion. Then, he turned toward you, a silent entreaty woven into the language of his gaze, beckoning you closer as if the very essence of his being yearned for your nearness.

“Come here,” he murmurs, gesturing with his raised arm to offer you space beside him.

You edged closer to his inviting warmth, shifting on the couch to draw nearer. The instant you nestled against him, his embrace enveloped you. His fingertips ventured down your back, making tender contact with your skin, a delicate dance of caresses. Nestled comfortably against him, your head found a cozy perch upon his shoulder, basking in the tenderness of his touch. His actions lulled you, evoking a melting sensation within.

“What's runnin' through that head of yours, darlin' ?” he murmurs in your direction.

The gentle strokes ceased. His hand settled on the curve of your lower back, doing nothing more but imprinting an imperceptible memory of his tender touch upon your skin. Negan's actions seemed deliberate, as if he sought to ignite a response within you, desiring to witness your own initiative, rather than taking the lead himself. In his ideal scenario, your body would have already be over his, seeking warmth. He harbored vivid images of it, yearning for what he'd envisioned on countless evenings.

“I don't know,” you exhaled, your words barely audible, your gaze unwaveringly locked with his. “About everything, and nothing at all.”

“I'll be damned, sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice a velvety rasp, “Uncertainty can be a wicked thing, can't it ? Everything and yet nothin', all wrapped up in one pretty package.”

The TV volume remained low, affording him the chance to catch any stray sounds. He was vigilant, ever mindful of his wives who, despite retiring to their rooms, could unexpectedly intrude at any instant. Negan wasn't particularly concerned about being caught in a passionate liaison with a woman ; if it were solely up to him, he'd fuck you right there on the balcony in front of everyone, demonstrating to all that you belonged to him. But it was more for your sake that he wished to avoid it — he knew you probably wouldn't want to be seen sharing sex with him.

A hush settled in the room as you rose, resting your hand on his chest. Your heart stubbornly refused to slow down while the background movie appeared to have lost its significance. Your gaze fixated on Negan's figure, captivated by the intensity of his dark, engulfing eyes.

“You need to stop giving me that look, Negan,” you stated.

“I can't help it if you bring out that look in me, sweetheart,” he replied, his lips curved in a smirk.

Slowly, your eyes traced his features, observing every detail from his lashes to the salt and pepper shade of his beard. Perching up on your knees, you take a careful glance around the room to make sure there was no one there. Assured of the privacy, you descended slowly, draping a leg over his, finally settling atop him, your breaths growing unsteady.

“You look like you're about to devour me on the spot,” you exhaled, sensing his body tensing beneath you.

“Well, babydoll, can't blame you for feeling a little nervous with ol' Negan here.”

His gaze narrowed, intensifying as curiosity and amusement danced within his eyes. Eager to discover the path of your actions, he deliberately halted even the subtlest of gestures toward you. And his anticipation was met. You placed your hands on each side of his shoulders, the contact of your pelvis against his eliciting a gasp of your mouth.

“Negan, I— Oh, for fuck's sake…” you blurt out, leaning in, nearly pressing against him.

“Seems cat's got someone's tongue, huh,” Negan chuckles, softly grazing your chin with his gloved hand.

Flushed with heat, you gently traced your fingers along his pristine white t-shirt, tucking the edges to sense his warmth against your fingers. Surprisingly, your boldness seemed to gratify him. Without delay, his hands found their way to your thighs, embracing your skin before gliding down to your hips, drawing you nearer. He bent his legs, pulling you close as possible, as if ensnaring you within his desires.

“Mhmm, that's it, keep it up, sweetheart. Just. Like. That.” his raspy voice growled.

The tension between you amplified with the gentle touch of his fingers caressing your skin, accompanied by his satisfied, teasing smile. Swiftly, he seizes your face, drawing you in for a direct and passionate kiss. Your lips eagerly met his, an urgent yearning manifesting as if they had craved this union for an eternity.

Enthralled by the passion conveyed in that kiss, he reasserted his hold on your hips, drawing the weight of your pelvis closer to his in an almost covetous manner. Every inch of your body responded to the fervor. Suppressing his profound yearnings for so long, he yielded, allowing his hands to trail along your curves. A sigh slipped from your lips at the sensation. His touch ventured beneath the fabric of your shorts, grasping your ass firmly. His action was almost too abrupt, considering how controlled it had been until now.

You were no longer the master of your actions, a mere observer of your own surrender. Unable to resist any longer, you yielded to the urge, shedding your suffocating sweater in a desperate attempt to ease the fire consuming your body. It seemed unbelievable that such a scene was unfolding, you that fighting valiantly against the tide of temptation, determined not to succumb.

Your breath mirrored his, swift and erratic, as your hands slipped beneath his t-shirt. Your fingers, curious and explorative, roamed across his skin, entwining in the few hairs as if seeking to uncover every secret of this uncharted territory.

Your lips sought out his cheek, trailing a series of kisses along the contour of his jaw. A soft sigh escaped you at the tantalizing touch of his beard against your lips, and you closed your eyes, imagining the sensation of it grazing between your thighs. The journey of kisses halted upon reaching the hollow of his neck. Gazing up at him, your eyes deepened with a smoldering intensity, betraying the fervent desire coursing through you.

“Doll, staring at me like that makes me as hard as a rock,” Negan teases, a sly grin dancing on his face.

“Oh, hush.”

Your tongue lazely passed over your lips as your sweater cascaded to the wayside. An almost involuntary movement drew your pelvis toward a search for friction, yearning to stoke the burgeoning flame deep within. Negan's hand clasped your jaw, a means of asserting dominance. He seized your lips in an intense kiss as you sought another after removing your sweater — an interlude far too fleeting for his taste to let it end there.

Having severed the kiss, having imbued it with the bittersweet flavor of his longing, he gently drew you back, his hand anchored to your face. In the subdued room, his gaze nearly disclosed a hint of regret for not being able to explore the contour of your chest more intimately. He indulged in the delight of relishing a closer sensation by letting his fingers glide from your neck to the delicate curve of one of your breasts, tenderly caressing it.

"Damn, babydoll, look at you. So damn sexy," Negan rumbled in a husky tone, his words carrying a mix of admiration and appreciation for what he was seeing — what he was feeling.

In the pursuit of evoking a reaction from your body, he persisted in his caress, his index finger accompanied by his middle finger captivating the tip of your mound to make it harden further. Allowing his lips to envelop your flesh button, he began to gently suckle, his hand cupping and kneading your second breast while his other hand glided down your back, drawing you nearer to him, as if such closeness were even possible. Simultaneously, he urged you to continue the friction that your pelvis created against his, while beneath the thick fabric of his gray trousers, his growing member was already palpable.

You sensed your heart pounding against your chest, sending tremors through your entire being. The passion ignited such a fervor, inducing a wetness between your thighs that heightened with each subtle motion against his bulge. As he worked on the first reddened mound, he shifted his attention to the second, prolonging the intimacy without breaking away. His hand, departing from the comforting warmth of your skin, ventured further, becoming more invasive as it found its place between your thighs.

You let out a soft sigh as his hands grazed your fevered skin. In touch with the cloth of your shorts, he effortlessly detected your moisture with a gentle, deliberate press. His smile brushed against your skin, teasing your hardening bud as he intensified the caress of his fingers against your welcoming depths, eliciting you a moan that sent shivers down his spine.

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs huskily, his words brushing against your skin.

Each shift of your body against his made you acutely aware of his hardness pressing against your lower abdomen, igniting vivid, consuming thoughts. His words and the sensations from his hands evoked a swarm of butterflies in your chest.

Passionate, moist kisses lingered on your lips, easing your sighs into delicate moans. Struggling to keep your responses in check, aiming not to draw the attention of his wives — who, you prayed, were sound asleep in their chambers, only served to heighten your fevered state. As the kisses deepened, you glanced down to witness the unfolding intimacy between you. The sensation was wet and intoxicating, a feeling you adored, yet it failed to satiate your longing ; you craved more, like an ache that consumed you.

Once more, your hands ventured under his t-shirt, gradually raising it to uncover his tonic abdomen amidst the subdued light of the television. As your hands glided around him, ascending his back to help disrobe him, your hips resumed their movement, driven by the burgeoning passion stirring within you.

You let out a hiss as your thighs quivered around him, feeling the discomfort of your shorts. Using your fingertips, you eventually made it to the edge of his pants, playfully tugging them down intermittently while seeking his approval through eye contact.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Negan exhaled deeply, smirking against your jaw.

He snarled and moved aside your damp underwear. Your desires were explicit, needing no further communication for him to comprehend your needs. He grazed his finger along your sensitive areas, savoring the sounds escaping your lips. Sensing your hands clutching his shoulders, he starts tracing circular motions around your nerve bundle, causing you to writhe on top of him.

“W-Wait,” you managed to say, widening your eyes, a surge of pleasure building as he persisted.

“Shh, let me take care of you. Cum for me,” he responded, prompting your release against his hand. “You're doing so well, sweetheart,” he praised you.

He lapped at your juices greedily on his fingers, revealing in the taste of your arousal. Encircling his arm around your delicate form, he effortlessly maneuvered to switch your positions, laying you on your side. You yielded without protest, sinking into the cushioned comfort of the sofa.

Leaning against the cushions with one arm, he stood tall above you and leaned in for a passionate kiss, his other hand swiftly pulling away the last garment covering your body, exposing you to the open air. Without needing assistance, he tore away your panties and eager to remove his own pants and boxers, freeing himself.

As you shared a kiss, he momentarily paused to collect saliva on his hand, which he used to moisten himself, locking eyes with you intensely. There was no turning back for both of you.

“Negan,” you gasp, a fervent ache consuming you.

“Use your words, darling. I want to hear you beg me,” he demands.

“Negan, please… I want you so bad,” you murmur in a quivering, warm tone near his ear, your eyes growing heavier as your bodies press together.

Grasping his girth, he glides it along your folds, teasing before exerting pressure to breach your intimacy. A guttural sound escapes his throat as he leans back, relishing the feeling of penetrating you. Despite the discomfort, you tremble, releasing a stifled moan as he tantalizes your wetness with his thumb. Retracting, he positions himself on his knees, guiding his member with a few deliberate movements.

Clasping your thighs firmly, he drew you nearer by lifting your knees towards his chest, seeking better access to your intimacy. His thumb moistened your entrance with your own secretions before he tease you with the head of his cock. He shifted above you, covering your lips with his own to stifle your sounds as he smoothly entered you, his pelvis slamming against yours.

Your chest rose and fell in sync with your racing heartbeat as your fingers gently wandered through the tangle of his dark locks at the back of his head. The tension surrounding you was so consuming that you lost awareness of your surroundings and any potential consequences of your actions.

When you sensed his entrance, your body instinctively arched and stiffened. Your face tensed as you tried to adjust to this new sensation. Gradually, you acclimated to his presence, and in a suggestive move, you raised your hips, wrapping your legs around his waist, signaling your desire for him to continue.

Gripping the sofa, he lifted your face abruptly, stifling a deep groan that resonated in his throat. The way your body arched upon his possession, the tightening of your flesh around him, heightened the rush of blood in his veins. Slowly, he eased into a series of gentle pelvic movements.

It was a captivating sight, leaving you breathless as you finally sensed his motion inside you. A thin film of sweat adorned your skin, and the heat brought a flush to your face, framed by damp strands of hair. Negan couldn't help but marvel at how perfect you looked in that moment — like a goddess who had descended from the heavens just for him.

His movements were restrained, as he aimed to find more space, all the while displaying a sense of self-control. This tenderness was not typical of his character. However, when Negan lifted his gaze to study your expressions and the fervor they revealed, he permitted himself to quicken his pace. Beginning softly and then progressively intensifying, causing your body to shift beneath him. His hand turned to silence your mouth, and his grunts intensified in your ear.

“You feel so good,” he moaned between a few strokes.

The manner in which his pelvis met yours left no room for evasion. This subtle motion that swept you along drove you to the edge, even though it was merely the start. You ultimately found the delight, the one veiled within your unspoken desires, beneath your garments, in the recesses of your intimacy. Each of your cries was subdued, to avoid raising any doubts and the movie, its credits scrolling on the screen, was no longer a cover for you.

“Tell me. Tell me you fucking belong to me, dollface,” he murmured, planting kisses along your collarbone before biting your earlobe, leaning in as he demanded, “Say it.”

“Fuck—,” you muttered, turning your face to meet his gaze.

You found yourself laughing nervously at every motion, electrified by the exquisite sensations that regularly coursed through you. Your legs clung to him while your hands had sought solace on his back. Your body quivered and molded around his larger frame.

“Say it,” he insisted, picking up his speed, surpassing the intensity he'd shown before.

“Yours. Only yours !” you gasped as you sensed him accelerating, feeling your muscles tightening around him.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. All mine,” he snarled, his voice dripping like honey.

A hush enveloped the surroundings, broken only by the rhythmic sounds of flesh meeting and the partially muted expressions of pleasure that conveyed the intense experience shared between you — and the need to stifle the impending cries pulsating within you nearly propelled you over the edge. Consumed by the moment, you disregarded any concerns about potential listeners, focusing solely on the overwhelming sensation that enveloped you.

A knot formed within you as a distant door creaked open, signifying the departure of one of Negan's wives from her room. The mere idea prompted you to stiffen. But Negan firmly held your hips, intensifying his pace, propelling you closer to the brink of climax.

“Hold on, there's somebody,” you gasp, confused by Negan's apparent indifference.

“It ain't an issue if there's company,” he declares, forcefully driving his hips against you.

“Negan I'm—,” you cursed, your hips rising to enhance the skin-to-skin connection. Your head arched backward, immersing you in a profound trance.

“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, his voice husky with desire. “Show me how much you want it.”

Intense pleasure courses through your veins, compelling you to grasp his hair and arch your hips to meet his movements. His hold on your hips tightens like that of a ravenous creature, and you knew you would be bruised the next day, but in that moment, it doesn't matter.

Negan glided a hand down, teasing and stimulating your most sensitive spot with his thumb, propelling you closer to your next climax. The noises coming out of your throat as you came were the sexiest sounds he had ever heard and damn, it driving him wild. It's with one last powerful push, he poured himself into you, your bodies entwined in a dance of passion and desire.

“Fuck fuck fuuuck,” he spat, shutting his eyes.

He fell onto you, utterly drained. You both remained intertwined, allowing your still-warm bodies to linger in a comfortable silence. As you slowly regained awareness, the sound of the door closing snapped you out of your daze, and you were suddenly struck by the reality of the situation. Sensing your movement beneath him, Negan slowly rose, propping himself up with one arm.

“Did you just— ?” you halted, sensing a chilling atmosphere enveloping your core when Negan withdrew from you, appearing as bewildered as you felt.

“I didn't mean to. You made it hard for me with all this damn mess,” he breath. He seemed to hold himself responsible, hoping this error hadn't disrupted the beginning of your relationship. Truth be told, sleeping with you was a significant move in his plan to have you entirely for himself.

You fall into a moment of silence, still slightly affected by the intensity of your lovemaking. As you both prepare to dress, Negan, clad only in his boxers, catches your attempt to glance around the room. Interrupting, he requests you an another, gentler kiss. You find yourself smiling in the midst of this tender moment, momentarily forgetting your worries. Eventually, you begin to reassess your choice about joining his group of wives…

Maybe you should think about it again.

A/N : Thanks for reading ! And sorry for any grammatical or other mistakes, English is not my first language. If you have any fanfic requests regarding Jeffrey's characters, please feel free to ask — I'd be happy to write them for you <3

[writella]

Negan Smith Masterlist

Listed are all my stories for Negan Smith of The Walking Dead.

Negan Smith— ex-leader of the Saviors, villain of everyone’s story, anti-hero of his own, husband, enemy, friend— charismatic, quick-witted, hilarious, terrifying, murderous, clever, ardent, wicked.

— “Common enemy, common goal.” “Or facing evil brings good people together.” “Same thing. It’s just that no one ever thinks that they’re the evil one.” (9x16)

Stories:

Key— mature - ♡, sweet - ౨ৎ, suggestive - ✿— (all stories have sweetness though :)

Screwed Up and Brilliant: Negan is ready for you. Daryl isn’t; and maybe he’ll never be. Negan makes that clear to you tonight. ♡

Fuckin' Favorite: Oh Lord, does Negan love his fuckin’ favorite wife! ♡

Negan Smith Daydreams via Wonder with Writella

My headcanons or any short form / requested work:

Lock and Key Daydreams: Negan's imagination runs wild for you, the gardener girl, who gives him his meals on Fridays. ♡

Sleeping Beauty: Negan wakes up his favorite wife with something a little stronger than a kiss. ♡

[drewmorg4n]

chapter 22 is up…

[godsandmonsters505]

Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

[fanfictilltheend]

You should see me in a crown - Chapter 7 (Y/N Grimes/Negan Smith)

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Chapter 6 // Chapter 8

A/n: Ask and you shall receive!! Hope you guys like this chapter. Have plans for the eighth chapter too. LMK what you would like to see. Feedback is always appreciated strongly and idk how I feel about this chapter so any thoughts would be amazing! Also you can follow and request things from me here on tumblr or on AO3. Y/N is like 20 in this and Negan is whatever age he is in season 7 so if that’s too much of an age gap please turn back!

Warnings: 18+ smut do not interact if not 18+ afab!you, daddy kink, age difference, abusive!Rick Grimes, protective Negan, sexual touching, oral sex, blow jobs, orgasm denial, choking

Summary: Y/N sees Daryl and makes Negan let him come back to Alexandria for a homecoming dinner to be orchestrated by Negan of course. In order to get that though Y/N has to give something to Negan in return...

My time at the Sanctuary is going well so far. I get my own room and the wives are even nice to me. I think it’s because Negan spends most of his time fucking me which takes the heat off of them, but I don’t mind. I imagined them being like high-school mean girls or something, but I have nothing but good things to say about them. But then something dawns on me the day after Rick leaves and I feel guilty about not thinking of him until now.

“Negan,” I say when he gets back from a supply run. “Take me to see Daryl.”

Negan, who is polishing Lucille in his living room, looks up at me a bit guiltily.

“You don’t wanna see him, sweetheart, trust me.”

“The fuck are you doing to him?” I yell. My heart drops. “That man is important to me! He’s like my fucking uncle. Are you torturing him?”

“I need to break him,” Negan explains, an eyebrow raised. “He’s Rick’s right-hand man. Think about things from my perspective for a goddamn minute, why don’t you? I can’t just give him a fucking hotel room.”

“He can’t be broken, Negan. He’s practically the strongest man I know,” I impress. “There are other ways to mess with Rick.”

“I thought I was the strongest man you know,” Negan smirks.  

“Stop fucking around, this is serious!” I shout.

“Damn, okay, Y/N. You know when you get assertive it gets me worked up. But what do I get in return if I were to let my enemy’s second in command go free, baby? I’m assuming that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I’m going to get,” I inform him, pressing a finger into his leather-jacket-covered chest.

“Is that so?” Negan grins, grabbing my hand. “Well, go on. You know you got me wrapped and I can hardly say ‘no’ to you, but I want something in return.”

“You can’t take anything more from Alexandria because we’re practically starving over there, but maybe you let Daryl go and you take me and him back to Alexandria and I…will personally announce my free-willed devotion to you and it will fuck with the whole town and especially Rick’s head.”

Negan thinks about it.

“Hmm, I like that. And we could have a family Welcome Home dinner,” he agrees, his grin getting wider. “Everyone will be there for the show. Carl, Rick, Michonne, Daryl, and baby sister, and you and me. I’ll even cook goddamn spaghetti free of charge. I make a mean tomato sauce.”

“You want a fucking family dinner, you freak?” I snicker.

“Trust me it will be worth it to see the looks on their faces. Especially Rick’s. But you know what? I need a little something right now to tide me over. What’s that gonna be, baby?” He smiles wide.

“First, you take me to Daryl right this instant and you stop whatever horrid torture techniques you’ve been doing to him. And then I’ll give you the best blow job of your life. How does that sound?” 

“Sounds like you think you’re going to be the one in control of that blow job, but I can assure you, sweetheart, it’s going to be the other way around. Gonna have you absolutely choking on my cock, baby girl. No mercy.”

I swallow.

“Fine,” I say like it’s no big deal and I’m not a little nervous. “Take me to Daryl.”

***

Negan walks me down through the bowels of the sanctuary to where they keep the cells. I hope what I said is true and that Daryl didn’t break. I pray it. We walk until we reach a single tiny room with some stupid pop song playing on repeat inside it.

Negan opens the door.

“Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour!” he booms, holding up Lucille to remind Daryl not to try anything, the music increasing in volume as we enter.

Daryl is crouched down in a filthy sweatsuit, covering his ears from the annoying music.

“Y/N?” he asks slowly in a raspy voice, looking up cautiously. “That really you?” “It’s me, Uncle Daryl,” I say rushing over to him, grabbing onto his dirty hands. “Turn off that fucking music, Negan.”

And Negan actually does.

“The hell you doin’ down here?” Daryl asks in concern. “You ain’t a prisoner too, are you?”

“No, it’s not like that,” I explain. “I’m here to get you out. Tomorrow you’re coming back to Alexandria, okay?”

I try to hug him, but he flinches at my touch. My heart sinks.

“You are quite popular, ‘Uncle Daryl,’” Negan smirks down at him, unable to not insert himself into the conversation. “Y/N won’t shut up about you. You must have at least been decent to her unlike Rick the Prick. I, for one, did not wanna let you go, but Y/N is going to convince me in more ways than one if you catch my drift.” He winks and does that lean thing he’s always doing. “And tomorrow,” he continues, stamping his foot for emphasis. “When you go back home to your quaint little town, you will make it clear that it was Y/N who saved you, is that understood?”

Daryl says nothing, so Negan takes Lucille and makes like he’s going to strike him with her, but he stops the bat just before it would have collided with Daryl’s face. Daryl does not even flinch.

“Shit, you do not scare easily. I like that!” Negan grins gleefully.

“Stop it, Negan,” I snap. “We get it. Your dick is the biggest.”

“Goddamn right it is,” he chuckles and I roll my eyes.

“Y/N,” Daryl mumbles quietly, turning to me. “If he’s making you do stuff that…you don’t wanna do, I’m not worth that.”

“Trust me, Rick’s Little Bitch, she wants it,” Negan announces. “Could even give you a goddamn preview if you w–”

“Shut up!” I yell at Negan. “For once in your life, please shut the fuck up! I’m fine, Daryl. I promise.”

“You and he?” Daryl asks in his way of little words, gesturing between the two of you.

“Something like that,” you nod. “Give him some proper food, Negan, and some real clothes, and let him shower. Those are the conditions.”

“You know, I am a decent man and benevolent ruler, so I’ll allow those. I’ll tell Davey to get on that right away, princess. See? I am a man of my word. See ya tomorrow, Daryl. It's your big goddamn homecoming day! Now let’s go, Y/N, you’ve got something to give me.”

***

We return to Negan’s bedroom. I’m silent the whole way back.

“You mad at me, princess?” Negan asks, taking off his jacket. “‘Cause of how I treated him?”

“Honestly, yeah,” I reply, sitting down on his bed. 

“Try to think of it from my perspective, honey, it’s not personal.”

“I know that, but you could at least be humane,” I point out.

“Think about if Alexandria had gotten ahold of Simon or Dwight–”

“We wouldn’t have tortured them. Plus, you already ironed off Dwight’s face. How can it get worse?” 

“And do you know why I did that?” Negan asks. 

I shake my head ‘No.’

“He ran away with Sherry and got Sherry’s sister, Tina, killed and my men had to save their sorry asses.”

I hadn’t known that.

“I’m cruel, sure, but I have reasons for doing shit, baby,” Negan assures me. “Cruel but not unusual if you know what I mean. For example, you know I’d never make you do shit you didn’t wanna do. If you’re too mad at me to blow me, you don’t have to. But I know the thought of it makes you so fucking wet.”

He’s not wrong. I want to say ‘no’ to spite him, but the things he says make sense even if I wish they didn’t. And I…I feel something really strong for him that I can’t even explain. He makes me feel so good and safe. He has rules that make sense, which is different from my life back at Alexandria with Rick where any second he could lose it on me and I always have to be on my guard. With Negan I know what I’m getting and if I say stop, he’ll listen. There’s something powerful about that. I want to make him feel good despite every instinct in my brain. I want him to hold and comfort me too. 

“Fine,” I say. “But you fuck with Daryl again and I will personally end your life. Now sit down on the goddamn bed.”

“Damn, baby.” Negan grins. “So hot when you threaten me and boss me around.”

“We’ll have to explore that another time,” I smirk. “Shit, did that make you hard?”

“Just being around you makes me hard, baby. But yeah.” He sits down on the bed and palms the bulge at his crotch. “Bet you’re already wet though too.”

He’s not wrong. 

I put my hair up and bend down between his legs.

“Take your pants off,” I insist. 

“This isn’t for your pleasure, you little slut,” he smirks. “Maybe if you earn it.”

I roll my eyes and reach for his belt buckle, but he slaps my hand away.

“Did I tell you to?”

“No, Daddy,” I reply obediently.  

“There’s my good girl. Now you may.”

Control freak. I undo the leather belt and remove it, then I unbutton and unzip his grey khakis and pull out his half-hard cock and balls.

My mouth waters.

“Now strip,” he orders.

I do slowly, pulling my shirt over my head to expose my breasts and I unhitch the bra and Negan swears. Then I pull off my pants and my underwear and shiver from the cold.

“Damn, baby. You look so good. Now, take me and get me all the way hard,” he orders. “In your mouth.”

And I do. I take his long, girthy dick and kiss the swelling head to tease and Negan groans. Then I take as much of him as I can down my throat.

Negan lets out a small moan as I suck and use my hands on the girth that doesn’t fit in my mouth. This goes on for a few minutes and Negan is fully erect in my mouth and it makes me so wet. I reach down to touch myself, but Negan slaps my hand away.

“This is isn’t for your pleasure, you little harlot. How many times do I gotta fucking say it, baby?”

“Sorry, Daddy,” I reply, looking right in his eyes. “You just make me so wet is all.”

Negan groans and squeezes the base of his cock. 

“Tonight is for me, isn’t it, Y/N?” He growls, grabbing a handful of my hair.

“Yes, Daddy,” I reply disappointedly. “Ow!”

“Too much, kid?” Negan asks seriously. 

“No, it hurt good,” I tell him, liking the pain.

“You little freak! You know, I think we need a safe word. How about ‘walker?’”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Daddy’s gonna fuck your mouth now, baby.” Negan tells me, looking down into my eyes. “It’s gonna be rough, but I know you can take it.” 

“Do your worst,” I challenge and Negan snickers.

“God, I love that." He pulls on my hair again roughly, “Get to work, slut,” he growls, and with that, he shoves his fat cock far down my throat and I gag.

Then he holds the back of my head and fucks my mouth with vigor, not holding back. I have to grab onto his waist to keep from being knocked over by the force. Goddamn.

He fucks me so hard each time it makes a gluck sound that is so filthy I am soaking against my thighs. My throat feels raw and sore, but he keeps going. Then he pulls my head down all the way on his cock and I choke, my nose smashing against the salt and pepper pubic hair at the base of his prick. He holds me down for what feels like forever and I can’t breathe! Oxygen is all I can think about and the throbbing pleasure between my legs. Fuck!

Finally, he pulls off of me, and I think he’s done so I move to get up.

“Ah, ah, ah, Not yet, baby girl,” Negan sneers. “Aw, you thought I was finished? Nice fucking try.”

And then he’s grabbing the back of my head and forcing me back all the way down on his cock and I’m gagging and choking and tears are streaming down my face. My brain begins to get foggy from the lack of oxygen and my pussy drips further down my thighs as saliva and precum dribble down my chin.

“Damn, baby. Taking it like you were fucking born for it. What a perfect little slut,” he groans. He tastes so good. His precum is perfectly salty. “I’m close, angel. Fuck! Look how wet you are. Tell ya what: I’ll hold you down on me for ten more seconds and if you’re a good girl and don’t touch your aching, dripping little pussy, I’ll give you a reward.”

“Yes, please, Negan,” I moan, so desperate to cum.

“Is that what you call me?” he snaps.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whine. “Come on, please. Just do it. I’ll be so good for you.”

And with that, Negan sticks his cock back down my throat. 

“One…” Negan begins with his usual snarky grin. “Fuck.” He groans in pleasure as his attractive face relaxes in bliss. “Two…Three...”

I start to struggle a little reflexively, my nose pressed against the patch of salt and pepper hair at the base of Negan’s prick, just below his hairy tummy, but he only grabs my head harder and holds me in place more tightly, which my pussy seems to like a lot.

“Be good for me now, Y/N,” Negan reminds me condescendingly, stroking the back of my head gently despite his firm grip, his voice low. “Four...Five…”

I can’t breathe! My brain screams out for air. I try to whimper, but only make a sad, strangled sound against him. Fuck, it feels so good. 

“Six...Seven…Stay fucking still, baby!” he growls. 

To stop me from trying to move, Negan wraps his large hand around my neck, and I moan, throbbing between my legs, pleasure buzzing inside me, aching to touch myself.

“Oh, shit, you really like that don’t you?” he smirks. “Eight…”

He squeezes his hand down around my throat and I see black spots around the edges of my vision. Fear pumps through my blood, but my spiking arousal is all I really care about as I hump against nothing but air. Negan smirks at my dancing, itching fingers.

“Nnnghhm!--” I try to moan desperately, my lower body shaking and spasming, staring up at him.

“Nine…Are you gonna fucking cum just from this!?” he exclaims. “You little whore!”

I cannot breathe! I cannot fucking breathe! I am going to fucking pass out! Or cum! Or both! Holy fuck!

“Ten…” Negan groans, and finally pulls out of my throat, loosening his grip on my neck, as my body twitches.

“Such a good little slut for me!” Negan exclaims enthusiastically, his voice so low it is almost a growl. “Now what do you say?”

“Thank you, Daddy,” I whine softly, my throat sore from overuse.

“Fuck, baby, I just slid my dick down your throat, and you thanked me for it!” he booms excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah asshole, sure–” I start to say.

But then he cuts me off by slapping my face with his dick and I can’t help but giggle. 

He snickers too, looking down at my legs. 

“Holy shit! You’re goddamn Niagra Falls down there, sweetheart. Want Daddy’s help with that?”

“Please,” I beg. “I am so horny for you, Daddy.”

“Touch yourself for me, baby. But do not cum!”

He pats the bed and I get up and sit on it next to him and start rubbing my pussy desperately. I let out a low moan as my fingers meet my clit. Negan stares at me and strokes his cock, cursing under his breath.

After a few steamy minutes of this, I insert and curl my fingers inside myself and begin shaking with the need to cum.

“Daddy,” I whine in a wrecked voice. “I’m close.”

“Holy fuck, here it comes!” Negan growls and he cums all over my chest with a shout.

“Would’ve swallowed it,” I tell him disappointedly, as he exhales deeply.

“You look amazing like that, baby. Holy moley, you look good!” he pants, wiping his brow. “Jesus.”

“Do I ever get to cum?” I practically yell, my face flushed with how horny I am, his cum dripping down my tits. 

“Not tonight,” he informs me and I deflate. “You cum when I tell you you can. And if you touch yourself before I allow you to you will fucking regret it. You won’t cum for a week. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whine. “But I mean are you sure I can’t cum on your fingers?”

“I have a surprise planned for tomorrow, angel, don’t worry,” he says surprisingly gently.

“Okay,” I nod. “Can we cuddle though?”

“Of course, baby girl. You were very good for me. Let me clean you up though first.”

He leads me into his bathroom and pats the counter for me to sit. I do and he wets a towel with warm water and cleans off my chest very gently. It feels nice. I yawn sleepily. 

“Ready for bed?” he smirks. “You were so good for me, angel, truly.”

“You sure I can’t cum?” I beg. “Why is it my fault that you’re so hot?”

He laughs, his face scrunching up. 

“You tempt me, kid, you really do, but I want you extra excited for my plan tomorrow. You’ll thank me later.”

I doubt that, but I let it slide for now.

We brush our teeth and then get into bed. I become the little spoon and he the big one. 

“What if I just came from rubbing on your thigh? That’s not easy.” I try one last time.

“Shut up,” Negan snorts. “Go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow. You made goddamn sure of that…”

A/n: Who's hyped for the Alexandria dinner? PLEASE give feedback I would highly appreciate it and I wonder if you guys are liking the direction of the story?????

Masterlist

Chapter 6 // Chapter 8

[driedpeanuts69]

writers block is NO joke because i am struggling to finish a chapter of Eleanor

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Acquired Tastes

Negan x GN!Reader

18+ ONLY / Requests are OPEN

Summary: Negan likes to see just what it takes to wake you up sometimes.

CW: Somno, light cnc, Daddy kink. No pronouns are used for the reader, but they do have afab anatomy.

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Negan knows, technically- that this is wrong. Technically, he shouldn’t want to put his fingers inside you while you’re sleeping and unaware. Technically, he shouldn’t want to push his thick cock inside you and see how long he can hold out and keep you asleep before you wake up and cum all over him. 

God, he shouldn’t want it. And yet, here he is, standing over your peaceful form, groping at his very hard cock and inching the blankets off you. He almost chuckles at the way you instinctively curl up a little tighter to combat the cold. 

He trails one finger down over your hip and over the line of your panties. You sigh in your sleep, snuggling closer into the pillow. He grins wolfishly and trails that finger underneath the edge of your panties to play at your folds. 

“Oh, darling-” he whispers to himself. “Are you having naughty dreams about me?” 

His finger slides up and down through your crease, collecting wetness as he goes. You let out a little noise in your sleep, brows furrowing down. It’s when his finger rubs against your clit ever so softly that your mouth pops open, a little panting whimper escaping you that makes Negan’s cock twitch.

He continues to rub at you for another minute or so, just until you start to wake up and then he stops again. He does this several times, working you up and then stopping and waiting until you settle back down again. Every time you were worked a little closer to the edge your sleep grew a little more restless and Negan loved to see it.

Eventually, he slides one finger inside you, pushing inside with little resistance. Clenching around him, he appreciatively gazes over the way you whimper and subconsciously grind yourself back against him. He slides a second in, pausing when you make a sound dangerously close to consciousness. Negan holds his breath, waiting to see if you’ll settle back down again. He’s already pushed the limits of the depth of your sleep.

Once you relax, he starts to pump them inside you. He’s not close to caring if you wake any more, and arches his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that he knows you love so much. Oh, the amount of times he’s made you squirt from attention to that spot. Your whining grows louder, hips beginning to wiggle before you finally open your eyes, letting out a yelp that mixes overwhelming pleasure and shock. 

Your instinct is to kick him off and get him away from you. But Negan knows this and knows exactly how to stop that plan right in its tracks. 

“Oh, what’s the matter, doll?” Negan laughs, pressing his free hand into your thigh to keep your legs from closing. He clambers onto the bed between your legs, situating himself comfortably. You cry out, head falling back as he thrusts his fingers into a particularly good spot. “Cat got your tongue, huh?” 

“Oh, fuck- Negan- what are you doing?” You pant, thighs quivering. Your jaw drops open as he shoves a third finger inside, stretching you so nicely it’s all you can do not to melt completely into the bed. 

“What does it look like?” He replies, pressing a sharp and painful bite into your knee. You whine and try to knee him. He catches the rogue knee and bites down into the flesh of your thigh painfully. You chuckle out a moan and he crooks his fingers up. The man knows what he’s doing, that is for sure. 

Negan presses kisses down your thigh until he reaches between your legs, his beard scratching at your soft skin. He flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit and laughs at the way you gasp, bringing your hands up to tug at his hair. 

“Now, now,” he tuts disapprovingly. “Don’t be rude, baby. Daddy’s workin’.”

You groan in frustration, but it doesn’t take long before he’s flicking his tongue over your clit like he’s praying to God (aka, your pussy) and fucking into you with his fingers at the same time. He knows exactly which spots to make you come undone, and exactly which letters to trace over your clit with his tongue to make you shake around him. You’re sure whatever he’s tracing into you are absolutely filthy words, but he’s never actually told you the prayer he carves with his tongue into your pussy. You doubt he ever will. 

You cum like that, on his fingers and on his tongue. And he works you through it, licking up every drop of your cum. You grow restless with the overstimulation, whining and bucking beneath him. He holds you down and forces another one, and then a third orgasm out of you. 

You’re a sweaty and exhausted mess by the time he's done. Muscles twitch and your legs ache like nothing else. Negan collapses on the bed beside you and pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You grin, and capture him in a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this with you, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

The both of you had acquired taste, but that’s just what made you so perfect for each other. 

“Now, how about a shower?”

[bluemerakis]

┌── ˚*❀*̥˚ ─── ˚*̥❀*˚ ──┐

✐ᝰ bluemerakis

┗━━• ❃ ° •° ❀ °• ° ❃ •━━┛

❝ nothing left to lose ❞

⤷ Word count: 5.2k

It’s that time of the month (yippeee) and my hormones are all over the place. And then I found this gif and I just need this man to hold me this way because I feel like it could solve a world crisis. Thank you.

═════════════════

PAIRINGS:

S7!Negan x fem!reader

WARNINGS:

Cussing, fluff, mentions of reader on her period, tame cutesie stuff

SYNOPSIS:

It had been another fairly quiet day as you lounged about the Sanctuary, your mood only dampened by the first day of your period. You were perfectly content to dwell in your bed and rot away for the remainder of the week, not so eager to do much else when the twisting and contracting of your stomach was so prominent, but those plans are set awry when Negan makes a stop at your room with his usual request for a good time.

When you enlighten him on your situation, he decides he’d like to stay regardless and indulge in your company, revealing a side to him you weren’t aware he had.

═════════════════

It had been roughly a month since a group of saviours had scavenged you from your pathetic life of living off the woods. You’d been practically half-starved when the saviours had found you, a pitiful amalgamation of skin and bones that served no purpose other than to earn their ridicule. They’d have put you down and served you up as walker deterrent for their borders had it not been for one of the men recognising your face.

You’d been tracking the Sanctuary’s dealings for quite some time then, successfully managing to map out their routines and planning sparse trips to steal a few supplies from the pick up points. You’d had a few close calls, but even then you were like a goddamn shadow, in and out quicker than a blink. The men had never managed to catch you—up until that day, at least. The man had insisted you be dragged back to the Sanctuary, where Negan would hear of your actions and decide the best manner to make you atone for them.

Much to everybody’s surprise, though, he’d been oddly impressed with your skill—despite it being a massive leech on their supplies. His anger was more directed at the inability for his men to contain your posed threat, especially since you were no more than ‘a ghost of a woman’. You’d decided to ignore the implied misogyny in his words, instead focusing on the relief in his decision to spare your life—tied to the condition that you become his wife, of course. You’d reluctantly obliged, acutely aware of how the title would come to violate your own morals at some point, but he’d promised good treatment and up until now, he’d been nothing but true to his word.

The murmur of a light rain trailed through the crack of your partially opened window, infusing the atmosphere of your dim room with a further sense of serenity. You were curled up between the sheets of your bed, lounging on your aching stomach as you paged through your book of the week—a one thousand-paged hardcover on the tragedy of wars. It didn’t play into your usual tastes—it was far from it, actually, but there were so few options available that you couldn’t afford to be picky. It was amazing, really, what things you could convince yourself to indulge in when you were burdened with nothing but free time.

When you’d decidedly punished your stomach—and your mind—enough, you sluggishly rolled onto your side with a groan, flipping the book closed in the process. You didn’t think you could endure another mention of forced cannibalism, and you were only two hundred-odd pages into the historical hell. You doubted you’d find the strength to power through this pick, never having been much of a history fan to begin with.

Your back was turned on the book now, and there it stayed out of sight and out of mind as your eyes fluttered closed around a pressing series of cramps. You instinctively tucked into the foetal position, as though it would somehow lovingly cradle your stomach cramps and encourage it to ease off its painful hold. When the sensation didn’t budge, you opted for resting your eyes, allowing darkness to consume you as you fried to focus on the pattering of the rain against your window. In a way, nature had always been a mother, the rain her very own gentle lullaby that encouraged warmth and a long, peaceful sleep. You’d never get tired of that particular song.

A string of impatient knocks booted your door. You’d barely managed to open your eyes and give permission to enter before you heard the wood creek open, heavy footsteps striking the floor for only a few moments before silence re-emerged. Your head remained pressed against your pillow, your eyes squinting against the dim air as you managed to make out the tall figure of Simon. His arms were crossed against his chest as he glared at you motionlessly through the haze. You didn’t offer the courtesy of sitting up to greet him, which is as much as he’d offered by not waiting for your answer at the door.

“What?” You demanded, the echo of your voice damped by the downfall of rain.

“You know what,” Simon answered bluntly with that coarse annoyance edging his tone. “I don’t make a habit of visiting you for fun. If I’m here, it’s cause Negan’s in the mood for your goods.”

“God,” you groaned, finally lifting your head to properly glare at Simon. “Don’t ever say that again.” You settled for turning onto your back, your head upturned to face the white ceiling. There was a brief moment of silence before you sighed and said, “tell Negan that I’ll be unavailable for the next week.”

“Unavailable?” Simon echoed with a scoff. “You got some other plans we don’t know about?”

“Just my period, dipshit,” you responded thinly before lifting your hand in a shooing gesture. “Now scoot.”

Much to your dismay, Simon’s footsteps seemed to grow closer instead of further, and moments later his silhouette appeared at the foot of your bed. You felt a spark of annoyance at his insistence—the blood that quite literally poured from your insides left you little patience for social interactions.

“You think a little blood’s gonna deter Negan?” The man asked you, his tone mocking at the idea that you could be so stupid. “You’ve seen the guy, he can’t go a single day without that shit smeared all over him. Matters little to him how the blood is obtained—you know?”

You did. Murder and women, the two things Negan couldn’t absolutely ever have his fill of. But you also knew that you’d never been the one to frolic around while on your period, a fact that Negan would have to make peace with. Not only did you find it unappealing, but needlessly messy, too, and you’d rather not spend the aftermath of it all wringing your sheets out. No, your answer was final.

“You’re ruining my peace,” you told Simon pointedly, your eyes still studying the beams that reached between the walls of your room and upheld your pointed ceiling. When he didn’t seem to falter from his position, you sat yourself up with a huff, your fingers clutching your propped up knees. “Tell Negan that I politely decline his request—that is, if you have the balls to. Clearly you’ve got some reservations since you’re still loitering in my room after my many invitations for you to take your leave.”

Simon ignored your jest, running his hand across his hair to tame rogue strands. “He ain’t gon’ take nicely to your answer, sweetheart,” he said.

The pet name made your stomach curl beyond the cramps. “He’ll get over it when he gets on-top of the next wife.”

“Nah,” the man disagreed, rubbing a hand across his moustache. “You know he’s got some special obsession with you. You’ve been here for what—less than a month? Yet you’ve already left quite a mark on the boss-man.” He paused as his gaze lowered across you. “Can’t say I get the charm beyond your beckoning tits and ass.”

You glowered at his crudeness. “Gross, Simon. This is why you’re going to die alone, and the only hint of action you’ll ever experience is the caress of that explosion of bad taste stuck beneath your nose.”

Simon looked briefly offended by your dig at his stash, his jaw evidently clenched around his reckless temper, but he didn’t dare to unleash his fist or tongue. One of the few perks of being Negan’s wife was that you were awarded the opportunities to condescend his men time and time again, yet they were completely helpless in returning the sentiment—that is if they wanted to remain in goodwill at Negan’s side as opposed to being plastered along Lucille’s length.

“I’ll let Negan know,” was all that Simon offered before he departed your room, clearly eager to preserve what little dignity he had left. He made a point to slam the door behind him, which only made you chuckle.

Oh men and their fragile egos.

You could hardly believe they’d been made to rule the earth when their entire masculinity could so easily collapse at their rejected cock. You eased yourself back against the mattress, unable to help the faint smirk spread across your lips as your eyes fluttered closed once more. You were prepared for your second attempt at a nap, the rain growing progressively louder beyond a light drizzle. You remembered seeing the swath of grey clouds stretched across the horizon like an impending doom when you’d opened your windows this morning. It seemed that they’d finally arrived to deliver their promise of a heavy downpour.

It wasn’t long before the hum of the rain became distorted by your amassing fatigue, sleep arriving hastily to claim what remnants of your consciousness remained. You had surrendered all control, so eager to melt into the peaceful expanse of black where you could leave behind your mortal pain. You’d barely been gifted half an hour of that haven before Negan’s voice tethered you and withdrew you from the dark breaches of your mind, your eyes flickering open. You hadn’t even even heard him enter the bedroom.

“Holdin’ up there, sweetheart?”

The second greeting of his presence came at the menacing outline of Lucille, remarkably propped along his broad shoulder as he idled a few steps from the foot of your bed. You drew a clumsy palm across your tired eyes, attempting to chase away the drowsiness that clung heavily to your lids.

“Did something get lost in translation?” You managed to say, your voice slightly abraded by grogginess.

“Not the warm greeting a man expects to hear from his wife after a long and shit-filled day,” Negan said with a sultry gruffness, moving to take up a seat beside your torso.

The mattress dipped beside you, prompting you to turn your head and glance at him. “I’m sure one of the other girls can pick up my slack,” you suggested bluntly.

Your disinterest only seemed to earn that all-knowing smirk from Negan. “Goddammit, woman, you’ve got balls,” he remarked though that wide grin, his head slightly cocked to properly glimpse your face. He lowered Lucille from his shoulder, his hands propping onto the hilt as he planted the bat against the ground and leaned his weight onto it. “And that’s exactly why you’re my favourite wife. Hell, you even got me to walk the extra mile just to come and see you.”

“Not on purpose,” you sighed dejectedly, your eyes wandering along the glinting folds of his leather jacket. He did look good in that jacket—not that you’d ever milk his ego by admitting it. “If Simon truly had the nerve to refer my answer, you’d know that coming here was a waste of time. You’re going to have to fill your blood quota elsewhere.”

“Ah, come on,” he drawled, his gaze unrelenting through those darn hypnotising eyes of his. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but ain’t a good poking of the colons a great way to relieve some of the pain?” He asked pointedly. “In other words, you ought to let me fuck those asshole cramps right outta you. What’s a little blood, anyways?”

At that statement, you couldn’t help the flit of your eyes toward Lucille, the object always so menacing even when benched on the sidelines. You dragged your attention back to Negan’s expectant expression with a beleaguered sigh. “I don’t care what you get off on, Negan,” you told him. “Have your bloody fill of it anywhere else, but not here. I said no, and I meant it.”

You half expected him to further knead at the angle he was currently working, eventually wearing you down to a state that could almost be called consent—what more could you expect from a sadistic, murderous fanatic? A sudden cramp displaced that particular trail of thought, causing you to discreetly tense your lower half, inside of your lip taken into bite as an instinctual coping mechanism.

Negan’s head tilted back slightly with a trace of a chuckle, his tongue then poking through to glide along his lower lip as he gazed at you through narrowly thoughtful eyes. “All right,” he relented—much to your surprise. Had somebody knocked Negan out cold on the way here and taken his place? “If you’re going to deny my very eager balls a pleasurable time, the least you can do is entertain me with a conversation.”

You challenged the weight of his stare—ever so flirtatious regardless of the circumstances. “You’ve literally enslaved an entire selection of women,” you pointed out crassly. “Go bother one of them instead.”

“Enslaved?” He repeated, his eyebrows perched on a look of incredulity. “I didn’t enslave any one of those women. I’m a fair man—I believe in free will and I always honour my word. I weigh the options, I offer a choice—” he lifted one hand to gesture to himself, “—and they made their choice.”

“After you coerced them,” you said around a thick yawn, blinking away the moisture along your eyes as you focused your growing alertness on him. You sat yourself up with a muffled grunt, ignoring the sharp pains that struck your stomach with the movements. “You’re not a democrat. You’re just a bully with an unhealthy attachment to a bat. It’s like Negan’s version of Bonnie and Clyde.”

Negan fixated you with a long look, his expression ever so unrelenting on what thoughts were passing through that tainted mind of his. “You’ve got an awful lotta spunk for somebody actin’ like she’s on her deathbed,” he deflected, a short moment of silence following shortly after. “What about you—girl who knows what she wants and doesn’t take shit from the next gapin’ asshole?”

“What about me?”

“Did I coerce you, too?” He inquired huskily, his eyes narrowing in an almost dare for you to answer honestly.

You hadn’t ever needed much convincing to speak your mind. “Absolutely,” you answered simply, then paused before adding, “have you honestly managed to convince yourself that either one of your wives want to be here?” Your head was slightly tilted out of sheer curiosity, amazed at how painfully naive he appeared to be—for once.

Negan’s lips were spread thin with a smirk, parting as he said, “I appreciate your honesty. Although I’d be lying if I said I ain’t a tad bit hurt.”

A severe cramp seized your stomach, causing you to throw your face into your pillow. “Oh, you don’t know hurt, Negan,” you groaned. “If you truly had the capacity to feel, please be so kind as to spare me your company so that I can rot away in peace.”

He straightened up from the Lucille’s prop, his expression becoming inquisitive. “All right, I’ll leave,” he eased off, attention dropping to his lap, where he carefully rested the bat and stroked suggestively at her barbwire-infused wooden length. “And I guess I’ll be takin’ these with me,” he added, one hand dipping into his leather jacket to pull out a small, plastic cylinder labelled ibuprofen.

Your eyes practically bulged at the offering. Pain medication was strictly reserved for post-surgical cases and the physically wounded—those marred by gunshot wounds, blades, or even brute fists—you name it. That was Negan’s self-imposed rule. In this dying world, pain medication certainly wasn’t a medical luxury extended to lesser problems like a woman’s period pains—despite the entire gender technically being a victim of the repeated assault of severe period cramps. For at least a week of every month. For at least five decades of their lives.

“The fuck?” You murmured, hand reaching for the medication as though needing to feel it’s physical form to believe it’s existence.

Negan plucked it out of reach with a shit-eating grin. “You want it?” He taunted, propping his elbow onto his knee as he rattled the container between his fingers.

Your hand hesitated mid-air, expression becoming bleary as you hesitantly asked, “what’s it gonna cost me?”

“Question of the century,” he answered vaguely, intense stare beating down on you. He looked almost scheming, and that wasn’t a strange mask to wear—not for Negan Smith. But for once, his actions surprised you in a way that wasn’t coupled by repulsion. “Y’know, you’re a pain in my ass, ‘cause I can’t help but have a soft spot for girls like you—all feisty and opinionated and sure as hell ready to give my big balls a real good talking to.” The hand which clutched the medication gravitated toward you, offering it up without the tether of debt. “On the house, since I’m the boss man around here callin’ all the big, bloody shots.”

Your eyes narrowed cautiously, your hand slowly reaching to acquire your personal saving grace. You half expected Negan to yank it away as a feat of ridicule, but his hand remained steadfast, his expression eerily intense as he overlooked your internal war with a light undertone of amusement quirking the corner of his lips.

“Ya want it, or not?”

You took it from his grasp, bringing it closer to examine the legitimacy of the label. “I’m the only thorn in your foot because everybody else is scared of you,” you said distractedly, eyes then flickering from the medication to meet his idling stare.

Negan adjusted his torso to appear taller, Lucille slipping between his thighs to prod the floor under his guiding grip. “But not you,” he reaffirmed.

“I used to be.”

“Yeah?” He husked, eyes narrowed interestedly, tongue momentarily poking through his grin—as it so often did. “The hell’s changed? Real world toughen you up? Ya got a pair o’ steel down there now?”

You brushed aside his snark. “Nothing’s changed, really,” you admitted, attention drifting as you popped open the lid of the container. “But I’ve got nothing left to lose, and the worst you could do is make jam out of my brains.” You dispensed a tablet into your palm, then clicked the lid closed. “But you won’t,” you stated, meeting his gaze boldly.

Negan’s head tilted with a far too entertained air. “Why’s that?”

“Same reason you’re here. I’m your favourite wife, apparently—and what’s a man like you to do without his wife? You might just implode without a place to stick it,” you jabbed. “I’m always the one you come running to with all your shit—god knows why.”

“I gotta say, that’s mighty cocky of you,” he drawled through a grin, hand moving to whisk across his bearded jaw. “And that’s comin’ from me.”

You offered him the ibuprofen, a ghost of a cheeky-lipped grin setting in. “Force of habit when I’m obliged to be at your side every other hour of the day. Honestly, you only have yourself to blame.”

His grin widened, eyes leering you over before dipping to the container you re-offered him. “Nah,” he murmured. “Keep it. And not a word ‘bout it—I ain’t got time for ants up my ass when the other gals get wind of the shit I ain’t doin’ for them.”

“That supposed to make me feel special?” You jested. “Or just a threat?”

Negan’s lip hitched with a smirk—silent ambiguity, and reached a hand into his pocket to procure a fresh orange, bottled water and a packet of chips—your favourite chips. “That shit’ll put ya in a grave on an empty stomach,” he averted, chin jutting to the pill in your palm. He leaned over to place the snacks on the bedside table, offering you a sidelong glance. “I know your panties get all hot for this stale sack of shit,” he said, beckoning to your chips, then added, “and the orange will keep up that energy of yours—y’know, boost the spirit and fuel that friskiness o’ yours.”

You scowled indignantly as he took a swipe at your taste in chips. “Those aren’t my favourite chips,” you lied defensively, moving to place the pill beside your newly acquired snacks. “It’s practically the only brand that’s left in the midst of this dying world—so none of us can afford to be picky, can we?”

Honestly, you’d have to admit it to yourself that the chips being spared even in the midst of the apocalypse didn’t bode well for your case, but why go down without a meaningless fight?

Negan chuckled all-knowingly, settling Lucille onto the ground before he leaned his elbow onto the mattress beside you and brought his lips into the proximity of your face. “Tasteless or not, I’m willin’ to bet my dick that you’ll be back asking for more,” he murmured, hazel eyes glazed with that bedroom sex-haze as he delicately searched between your eyes.

Your attention flickered between him and the flashy, grit teeth poking through the lips you’d tasted countless times, his words so open-ended for interpretation—because Negan Smith loved playing games. “Are we still talking about the chips?” You asked softly, eyebrow hitched expectantly.

“We can talk about whatever you goddamn want,” he grumbled huskily, lips making an advance for yours, but you brought your hand up to press an index finger into the divot of his chin.

“I told you,” you began, “not happening—not today. So, off you scamper to the next wife for a good tickle.”

“Cut that crap,” Negan chided levelly, then reached for your hand and pried it from his chin. “The others can wait, let’s just get you up and runnin’ because it’s been a goddamn buzzkill on my dick.”

“Oh, how terrible for you,” you sniped, brows furrowing at his nerve.

He seized your hand in a tight grip to place a kiss to your knuckles, his eyes narrowed around an intense gaze as he maintained eye contact throughout the gesture. You fought the urge to yank your hand free out of spite. Once his lips retracted from your skin, he tucked your hand between your bodies as he leant down to place a kiss on your forehead instead. It was a rather gentle touch—the most intimate one he’s ever bestowed on you, but it didn’t linger long before he pulled back and released your hand.

“Jesus, burnin’ up all for me?” He remarked, pressing the backside of his fingers to your forehead before they caressed the expanse and moved to push back the loose strands of hair that cascaded around your view. “You’re hot as shit.”

“I am, thank you,” you said suggestively, adding more earnestly, “it happens sometimes—I think my body is literally trying to kill me.”

He pulled back his hand from your hair, finger trailing down the angle of your jaw before he withdrew his touch entirely. “Yeah, well, you’re tough as nails, so tell the biological bitch to dial it down a notch.”

“Duly noted,” you murmured, reaching for the orange atop the bedside stand, your attention deliberately downturned to the fruit in clutch as you began to peel it while simultaneously reflecting on the situation presented before you.

You were thankful for the medication, but it felt odd to hold a sense of gratitude for a man like Negan, and you had not the slightest idea on how to handle the foreign phenomenon. Even a month ago, when he’d quite literally plucked you from death’s claws, there was no gratitude to behold—his motives in sparing you had always been selfish. But this instance? This was an action you thought beyond his emotional capacity.

You’d thought his better conscious had been so far lost to a history of bad and reckless decisions that there was not a slither of DNA left still capable of holding regard for others—but this act of his prompted you to reconsider that notion. After all, he owed you nothing, and you owed him everything, yet it was him that had come to settle.

A manipulative tactic? Possibly. You weren’t all that naive to allow this instance alone to so easily sway your opinion on him. He was still of questionable character—and that moral debate could ricochet for an endless amount of hours.

You spared yourself the turmoil and brought yourself to it, lifting your head to meet his stare once more. He’d been watching you enigmatically, without his usual running commentary to fill the void—it felt uncomfortable to have a silence so long settle between the two of you.

You decided to settle for a simple, “thanks, by the way,” as you set aside the discarded orange peels and began to thumb at the centre to separate the slices. “For the medication,” you clarified, popping a slice into your mouth. The first bite was an explosion of sultry sweetness, a true pleasure to behold.

Negan gave somewhat of an accomplished smirk. “I got ya,” he answered, his gaze lingering incoherently on you before he blinked away the haze and straightened himself from the bed with a grunt. “Take a hot bath—” he suggested, hoisting up Lucille from her position on the ground, “—hopefully that Lady Uterus o’ yours will let loose for a bit.”

He strung the bat across his shoulder—the rightful queen atop her throne, and turned to begin his amble toward the door.

“Are you going to draw it for me?” You asked him hopefully, which made him halt and partially turn his torso to face you.

He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “What’re you, ten?” He jested.

“If only,” you retorted wistfully. “The only stomach ache ten year old me ever got was because of one too many bags of chips.” You caught yourself at the mention of chips, then felt the need to clarify, “the good kind, not these ones.”

Negan lips spread with amusement. “What a goddamn time to be alive,” he stated.

“I’ll say,” you murmured, then turned your attention back to your diminishing orange. “Anyway, if you’re done bothering me now, I’ll draw that bath.”

“Damn, I stick my neck out for you and I don’t even get to stay for the show?”

“You’re always getting a show,” you retorted. “Let a girl have some alone time, for once. Besides, there’s no such thing as you sticking your neck out, seeing as you’re the one usually holding the guillotine.”

Negan chuckled, his eyes holding a mischievous glint. “Touché,” was all he offered. “I’ll draw you that bath.”

You perked with surprise, the last orange slice popped between your lips. “Only enough water for one,” you mumbled around the sweet, stringy flesh, brows lifted with implication. “Just in case you were getting any ideas.”

“Oh, I got ideas,” he hummed, scheming grin on his lips. “The meds I got ya? On the house. This? This’ll cost ya a little something. And once you’re feeling right as rain, I’ll come and collect.”

You gave a slight flicker of your eyes. “Okay, tax man,” you said, reaching for the bottled water and pill. “Whatever Negan wants.”

“Atta girl,” he praised, hand raised to point an index finger in your direction. “Now you’re startin’ to sound like a commendable wife—almost enough to make good ol’ Lucille here jealous.”

“Leave your weird bat out of this,” you said before splitting open the seam of the sealed bottle and taking an eager swig at the liquid. You popped the pill into your mouth shortly after and gave a hard swallow, your expression furrowing in disgust when it momentarily lodged itself against your tongue with the kiss of a bitter tang. After another gulp of water, it slid down uninterrupted.

“Somebody’s parched,” Negan remarked. “Never seen you take my seed that eagerly.”

You gave him a hearty middle finger, to which he scoffed amusedly and disappeared a short distance into your offside en-suite. “How hot?” He called back to you. “Three quarters to the hottest?”

“Sounds right,” you called back to him. “And add the bath oils, too!”

“Useless shit.”

“Let a girl indulge, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, settling against the mattress while you listened to the sound of the drawing bath. You noted the calm of the weather beyond the window, where a barely perceptible drizzle thrummed down gently.

It wasn’t long before Negan reappeared at your side, Lucille carefully discarded onto the foot of the bed before he inched his way onto the mattress and you felt his frame curl around your backside. Heat radiated from his body and flushed your back with a sense of comfort, his lips then finding the nape of your neck. He pressed a kiss there, his hand gently curling around your abdomen, as though he knew to take precaution around your sensitive area.

You shifted your neck away from his teasing lips, casting him a glance over your shoulder. “Why are you doing this?” You felt compelled to ask—this tender facade of his was disconcerting.

Negan’s held your stare levelly. “You’re my wife,” he stated simply. “A real man takes care of his wife.”

“Yeah, but that’s not real,” you said. “None of this is real—it’s all a made up, a twisted way for you to pass time. Us wives? We’re nothing but entertainment to you—so why all this effort?”

There was a brief pause from his side before he answered you with a sense of solemnity that you’d never truly seen him possess. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” He asked. “Hell, I know what desperation feels like. She’s a stone cold bitch, and you were nothin’ more than a husk of a person when we picked you up in those woods. You’re a fighter—death ain’t got a fuckin’ lead on you. I mean, shit, that deserves some respect—and I give that only where it’s due. So, call it respect, call it whatever you’d like, but just take the goddamn win, won’t ya?”

You listened intently, an emotion of something other than annoyance settling within your chest at his somewhat glorified image of you. For the first time ever, you didn’t know how to respond. It was easy to strike back when most of the conversation shared between the two of you was shallow, bitter banter, but as of this moment, this situation-ship was starting to feel as though the foundation was being built on something other than debt, and that thought was daunting.

“Bath should be drawn by now,” you said eventually, settling your head back into the pillow, glad to displace the view of Negan’s face.

The hand at your abdomen slid away as he lifted himself up with a grunt of effort. “Then you best go and dip your toes,” he said.

You took a moment to heave a breath before rolling over and sitting yourself up from the bed, to which Negan stepped a pace back to allow you the room to stand up. You straightened from the mattress that had held you captive for the entirety of the morning, offering Negan a long stare, who returned it with a grin that felt as though your thoughts were transparent to him.

You shouldn’t, but you wanted to. Fuck it, you would—you’d said it yourself, nothing left to lose, right? You brushed past him and hoisted a beckoning hand over your shoulder, followed by a sparse, cheeky glance.

“Come with me,” you told him.

“I like the sound of that,” Negan chuckled, trailing after you with a confident charisma. “Looks like I’m gettin’ that show after all.”

“Shut up about it.”

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